[
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Jens Sadowski (based on page scans provided\nby The Internet Archive)\nA GENERAL\nHISTORY\nOF THE\nPYRATES,\nFROM\nTheir first RISE and SETTLEMENT in the Island of\n_Providence_, to the present Time.\nWith the remarkable Actions and Adventures of the two Female Pyrates\nMary Read and Anne Bonny;\nContain'd in the following Chapters,\nIntroduction.\nChap. I. Of Capt. _Avery_.\nII. Of Capt. _Martel_.\nIII. Of Capt. _Teach_.\nIV. Of Capt. _Bonnet_.\nV. Of Capt. _England_.\nVI. Of Capt. _Vane_.\nVII. Of Capt. _Rackam_.\nVIII. Of Capt. _Davis_.\nIX. Of Capt. _Roberts_.\nX. Of Capt. _Anstis_.\nXI. Of Capt. _Worley_.\nXII. Of Capt. _Lowther_.\nXIII. Of Capt. _Low_.\nXIV. Of Capt. _Evans_.\nXV. Of Capt. _Phillips_.\nXVI. Of Capt. _Spriggs_.\nAnd their several Crews.\nTo which is added.\nA short ABSTRACT of the Statute and Civil\nLaw, in Relation to Pyracy.\nThe second EDITION, with considerable ADDITIONS\nBy Captain Charles Johnson.\n_LONDON_:\nPrinted for, and sold by _T. Warner_, at the _Black-Boy_ in\n_Pater-Noster-Row_, 1724.\nTHE PREFACE.\nH_AVING taken more than ordinary Pains in collecting the Materials\nwhich compose the following History, we could not be satisfied with our\nselves, if any Thing were wanting to it, which might render it entirely\nsatisfactory to the Publick: It is for this Reason we have subjoined to the\nWork, a short Abstract of the Laws now in Force against Pyrates, and made\nChoice of some particular Cases, (the most curious we could meet with)\nwhich have been heretofore tried, by which it will appear what Actions\nhave, and what have not been adjudged Pyracy._\n_It is possible this Book may fall into the Hands of some Masters of Ships,\nand other honest Mariners, who frequently, by contrary Winds or Tempests,\nor other Accidents incident to long Voyages, find themselves reduced to\ngreat Distresses, either through Scarcity of Provisions, or Want of Stores.\nI say, it may be a Direction to such as those, what Lengths they may\nventure to go, without violating the Law of Nations, in Case they should\nmeet other Ships at Sea, or be cast on some inhospitable Shore, which\nshould refuse to trade with them for such Things as are absolutely\nnecessary for the Preservation of their Lives, or the Safety of the Ship\nand Cargoe._\n_We have given a few Instances in the Course of this History of the\nInducements Men have to engage themselves headlong in a Life of so much\nPeril to themselves, and so destructive to the Navigation of the trading\nWorld; to remedy which Evil there seems to be but two Ways, either to find\nEmployment for the great Numbers of Seamen turn'd adrift at the Conclusion\nof a War, and thereby prevent their running into such Undertakings, or to\nguard sufficiently the Coast of _Africa_, the _West-Indies_, and other\nPlaces whereto Pyrates resort._\n_I cannot but take Notice in this Place, that during this long Peace, I\nhave not so much as heard of a _Dutch_ Pyrate: It is not that I take them\nto be honester than their Neighbours; but when we account for it, it will,\nperhaps, be a Reproach to our selves for our want of Industry: The Reason I\ntake to be, that after a War, when the _Dutch_ Ships are laid up, they have\na Fishery, where their Seamen find immediate Business, and as comfortable\nBread as they had before. Had ours the same Recourse in their Necessities,\nI'm certain we should find the same Effect from it; for a Fishery is a\nTrade that cannot be overstock'd; the Sea is wide enough for us all, we\nneed not quarrel for Elbow-room: Its Stores are infinite, and will ever\nreward the Labourer. Besides, our own Coast, for the most Part, supply the\n_Dutch_, who employ several hundred Sail constantly in the Trade, and so\nsell to us our own Fish. I call it our own, for the Sovereignty of the\n_British Seas_, are to this Day acknowledged us by the _Dutch_, and all the\nneighbouring Nations; wherefore, if there was a publick Spirit among us, it\nwould be well worth our while to establish a National Fishery, which would\nbe the best Means in the World to prevent Pyracy, employ a Number of the\nPoor, and ease the Nation of a great Burthen, by lowering the Price of\nProvision in general, as well as of several other Commodities._\n_I need not bring any Proofs of what I advance, _viz._ that there are\nMultitudes of Seamen at this Day unemploy'd; it is but too evident by their\nstraggling, and begging all over the Kingdom. Nor is it so much their\nInclination to Idleness, as their own hard Fate, in being cast off after\ntheir Work is done, to starve or steal. I have not known a Man of War\ncommission'd for several Years past, but three times her Compliment of Men\nhave offer'd themselves in _24_ Hours; the Merchants take their Advantage\nof this, lessen their Wages, and those few who are in Business are poorly\npaid, and but poorly fed; such Usage breeds Discontents amongst them, and\nmakes them eager for any Change._\n_I shall not repeat what I have said in the History concerning the\nPrivateers of the _West-Indies_, where I have taken Notice they live upon\nSpoil; and as Custom is a second Nature, it is no Wonder that, when an\nhonest Livlyhood is not easily had, they run into one so like their own; so\nthat it may be said, that Privateers in Time of War are a Nursery for\nPyrates against a Peace._\n_Now we have accounted for their Rise and Beginning, it will be natural to\nenquire why they are not taken and destroy'd, before they come to any Head,\nseeing that they are seldom less than twelve Men of War stationed in our\nAmerican Plantations, even in Time of Peace; a Force sufficient to contend\nwith a powerful Enemy. This Enquiry, perhaps, will not turn much to the\nHonour of those concern'd in that Service; however, I hope I may be\nexcus'd, if what I hint is with a Design of serving the Publick._\n_I say, 'tis strange that a few Pyrates should ravage the Seas for Years,\nwithout ever being light upon, by any of our Ships of War; when in the mean\nTime, they (the Pyrates) shall take Fleets of Ships; it looks as if one was\nmuch more diligent in their Affairs, than the other. _Roberts_ and his\nCrew, alone, took 400 Sail, before he was destroy'd._\n_This Matter, I may probably set right another Time, and only observe for\nthe present, that the Pyrates at Sea, have the same Sagacity with Robbers\nat Land; as the latter understand what Roads are most frequented, and where\nit is most likely to meet with Booty, so the former know what Latitude to\nlie in, in order to intercept Ships; and as the Pyrates happen to be in\nwant of Provisions, Stores, or any particular Lading, they cruise\naccordingly for such Ships, and are morally certain of meeting with them;\nand by the same Reason, if the Men of War cruise in those Latitudes, they\nmight be as sure of finding the Pyrates, as the Pyrates are to find the\nMerchant Ships; and if the Pyrates are not to be met with by the Men of War\nin such a Latitude, then surely down the same Latitude may the Merchant\nShips arrive safely to their Port._\n_To make this a little plainer to my Country Readers, I must observe that\nall our outward bound Ships, sometime after they leave the Land, steer into\nthe Latitude of the Place they are bound to; if to the _West-India_\nIslands, or any Part of the Main of _America_, as _New-York_,\n_New-England_, _Virginia_, _&c._ because the Latitude is the only Certainty\nin those Voyages to be found, and then they sail due West, till they come\nto their Port, without altering their Course. In this West Way lie the\nPyrates, whether it be to _Virginia_, _&c._ or _Nevis_, _St. Christophers_,\n_Montserat_, _Jamaica_, _&c._ so that if the Merchant Ships bound thither,\ndo not fall a Prey to them one Day, they must another: Therefore I say, if\nthe Men of War take the same Track, the Pyrates must unavoidably fall into\ntheir Mouths, or be frighted away, for where the Game is, there will the\nVermin be; if the latter should be the Case, the trading Ships, as I said\nbefore, will pass unmolested and safe, and the Pyrates be reduced to take\nRefuge in some of their lurking Holes about the uninhabited Islands, where\ntheir Fate would be like that of the Fox in his Den, if they should venture\nout, they would be hunted and taken, and if they stay within they must\nstarve._\n_I must observe another Thing, that the Pyrates generally shift their\nRovings, according to the Season of the Year; in the Summer they cruise\nmostly along the Coast of the Continent of _America_, but the Winters\nthere, being a little too cold for them, they follow the Sun, and go\ntowards the Islands, at the approach of cold Weather. Every Man who has\nused the _West-India_ Trade, knows this to be true; therefore, since we are\nso well acquainted with all their Motions, I cannot see why our Men of War\nunder a proper Regulation, may not go to the Southward, instead of lying up\nall the Winter useless: But I shall proceed too far in this Enquiry, I\nshall therefore quit it, and say something of the following Sheets, which\nthe Author may venture to assure the Reader that they have one Thing to\nrecommend them, which is Truth; those Facts which he himself was not an\nEye-Witness of, he had from the authentick Relations of the Persons\nconcern'd in taking the Pyrates, as well as from the Mouths of the Pyrates\nthemselves, after they were taken, and he conceives no Man can produce\nbetter Testimonies to support the Credit of any History._\n_It will be observed, that the Account of the Actions of _Roberts_ runs\ninto a greater Length, than that of any other Pyrate, for which we can\nassign two Reasons, first, because he ravaged the Seas longer than the\nrest, and of Consequence there must be a greater Scene of Business in his\nLife: Secondly, being resolved not to weary the Reader, with tiresome\nRepetitions: When we found the Circumstances in _Roberts_'s Live, and other\nPyrates, either as to pyratical Articles, or any Thing else, to be the\nsame, we thought it best to give them but once, and chose _Roberts_'s Life\nfor that Purpose, he having made more Noise in the World, than some\nothers._\n_As to the Lives of our two female Pyrates, we must confess they may appear\na little Extravagant, yet they are never the less true for seeming so, but\nas they were publickly try'd for their Pyracies, there are living Witnesses\nenough to justify what we have laid down concerning them; it is certain, we\nhave produced some Particulars which were not so publickly known, the\nReason is, we were more inquisitive into the Circumstances of their past\nLives, than other People, who had no other Design, than that of gratifying\ntheir own private Curiosity: If there are some Incidents and Turns in their\nStories, which may give them a little the Air of a _Novel_, they are not\ninvented or contrived for that Purpose, it is a Kind of Reading this Author\nis but little acquainted with, but as he himself was exceedingly diverted\nwith them, when they were related to him, he thought they might have the\nsame Effect upon the Reader._\n_I presume we need make no Apology for giving the Name of a History to the\nfollowing Sheets, though they contain nothing but the Actions of a Parcel\nof Robbers. It is Bravery and Stratagem in War which make Actions worthy of\nRecord; in which Sense the Adventures, here related will be thought\ndeserving that Name. _Plutarch_ is very circumstantial in relating the\nActions of _Spartacus_, the Slave, and makes the Conquest of him, one of\nthe greatest Glories of _Marcus Crassus_; and it is probable, if this Slave\nhad liv'd a little longer, _Plutarch_ would have given us his Life at\nlarge. _Rome_, the Misstress of the World, was no more at first than a\nRefuge for Thieves and Outlaws; and if the Progress of our Pyrates had been\nequal to their Beginning; had they all united, and settled in some of those\nIslands, they might, by this Time, have been honoured with the Name of a\nCommonwealth, and no Power in those Parts of the World could have been able\nto dispute it with them._\n_If we have seem'd to glance, with some Freedom, at the Behaviour of some\nGovernors of Provinces abroad, it has been with Caution; and, perhaps, we\nhave, not declar'd as much as we knew: However, we hope those Gentlemen in\nthe same Station, who have never given Occasion for the like Censure, will\ntake no Offence, tho' the Word Governor is sometimes made use of._\nP. S. _It will be necessary to add a Word or two to this Preface, in order\nto inform the Reader, that there are several material Additions made to\nthis second Impression, which swelling the Book in Bulk, must of\nConsequence add a small Matter to its Price._\n_The first Impression having been received with so much Success by the\nPublick, occasioned a very earnest Demand for a second: In the mean Time,\nseveral Persons who had been taken by the Pyrates, as well as others who\nhad been concerned in taking of them, have been so kind to communicate\nseveral Facts and Circumstances to us, which had escaped us in the first\nImpression. This occasioned some Delay, therefore if we have not brought it\nout, as soon as wish'd, it was to render it the more compleat._\n_We shall not enter into a Detail of all the new Matter inserted here, but\nthe Description of the Islands _St. Thome_, _&c._ and that of _Brasil_ are\nnot to be passed by, without a little Notice. It must be observed, that our\nspeculative Mathematicians and Geographers, who are, no doubt, Men of the\ngreatest Learning, seldom travel farther than their Closets for their\nKnowledge, _&c._ are therefore unqualified to give us a good Description of\nCountries: It is for this Reason that all our Maps and Atlasses are so\nmonstrously faulty, for these Gentlemen are obliged to take their Accounts\nfrom the Reports of illiterate Men._\n_It must be noted also, that when the Masters of Ships make Discoveries\nthis Way, they are not fond of communicating them; a Man's knowing this or\nthat Coast, better than others, recommends him in his Business, and makes\nhim more useful, and he'll no more discover it than a Tradesman will the\nMystery of his Trade._\n_The Gentleman who has taken the Pains to make these Observations, is _Mr.\nAtkins_, a Surgeon, an ingenious Man in his own Profession, and one who is\nnot ty'd down by any narrow Considerations from doing a Service to the\nPublick, and has been pleased generously to communicate them for the good\nof others. I don't doubt, but his Observations will be found curious and\nvery serviceable to such as Trade to those Parts, besides a Method of Trade\nis here laid down with the _Portuguese_, which may prove of great Profit to\nsome of our Countrymen, if followed according to his Plan._\n_It is hoped these Things will satisfy the Publick, that the Author of the\nfollowing Sheets considered nothing so much as making the Book\nuseful;--tho' he has been informed, that some Gentlemen have rais'd an\nObjection against the Truth of its Contents, _viz._ that it seems\ncalculated to entertain and divert.--If the Facts are related with some\nAgreeableness and Life, we hope it will not be imputed as a Fault; but as\nto its Credit, we can assure them that the Sea-faring Men, that is all that\nknow the Nature of these Things, have not been able to make the least\nObjection to its Credit:--And he will be bold to affirm, that there is not\na Fact or Circumstance in the whole Book, but he is able to prove by\ncredible Witnesses._\n_There have been some other Pyrates, besides those whose History are here\nrelated, such as are hereafter named, and their Adventures are as\nextravagant and full of Mischief, as those who are the Subject of this\nBook.--The Author has already begun to digest them into Method, and as\nsoon, as he receives some Materials to make them compleat, (which he\nshortly expects from the _West-Indies_). If the Publick gives him\nEncouragement he intends to venture upon a second Volume._\nTHE CONTENTS.\nINTRODUCTION.\nT_HE Danger of Commonwealths from an Increase of Pyrates_, 17.\n_Pyrates in the Times of_ Marius _and_ Sylla, 18. _Takes_ Julius C\u00e6sar, 19.\n_The Barbarity of those Pyrates_, ib. _They spare_ C\u00e6sar, _and why_, ib.\n_His Behaviour amongst them_, ib. C\u00e6sar _obtains his Liberty for a Ransom_,\nib. _Attacks and takes the Pyrates_, 20. _Hangs them at_ Troy, ib. _They\nincrease again to a prodigious Strength_, ib. _Plunder at the Gates of_\nRome, 21. _The mock Homage they paid the_ Romans, ib. Pompey _the Great,\nappointed General against them_, 22. _A prodigious Fleet and Army assign'd\nhim_, ib. _His Conduct and good Fortune_, ib, _The Gallantry of those\nPyracies_, 23. _Receive an Overthrow_, ib. Barbarouse, _a Pyrate, his\nBeginning_, ib. _His great Strength_, 24. Selim Eutemi, _King of_ Algiers,\n_courts his Friendship_, ib. _Makes himself King, and how_, ib. _The King\nof_ Tunis _overthrown by him_, ib. _Leaves the Inheritance to his Brother_,\nib. _The_ West-Indies _commodious for Pyrates, and why_, 24, 25. _The\nExplanation of the Word_ Keys, 25. _The Pyrates conceal their Booty on\nthem_, ib. _The Pyrates Security in those Parts_, 26. _The Rise of Pyrates\nsince the Peace of_ Utrecht _accounted for_, 26, 27. _An Expedition from_\nJamaica, _to plunder the_ Spaniards, 28. _The_ Spaniards _sue for Justice\nto the Government of_ Jamaica, ib. _The Plunderers turn Pyrates_, 29. _The_\nSpaniards _make Reprisals_, ib. _The Names of Ships taken by them_, ib.\n_The plunder'd Seamen join the Pyrates_, ib. Providence _fixed on as a\nPlace of Retreat by them_, 30. _That Island described_, ib. _The Lords\nAddress to her late Majesty for securing_ Providence, ib. _An Order of\nCouncil in this Reign to the same Purpose_, 31. _A List of Men of War\nemploy'd for the Defence of the Plantations_, 32. _Captain_ Woods Rogers\n_made Governor of_ Providence, ib. _The King's Proclamation for suppressing\nPyrates_, 33, 34. _How the Pyrates used the Proclamation_, 34. _Great\nDivisions amongst them_, 35. _How made quiet_, ib. _Several of the Pyrates\nsurrender to the Governor of_ Bermudas, ib. _The Fate of the rest_, ib.\nWoods Rogers _his Arrival at_ Providence, ib. Vane'_s Behaviour_, 36. Woods\nRogers _employs the pardon'd Pyrates_, ib. _Their Conduct_, ib. _Some of\nthem hang'd for new Pyracies_, 37. _Their strange Behaviour at the Place of\nExecution_, ib. _Some Proceedings betwixt the_ English _and_ Spaniards, 38.\n_The_ Spaniards _surprize the_ Greyhound _Man of War, and how_, ib. _Quit\nher_, 39. _The Crew of a_ Spanish Guarda del Costa _hang'd at_ Jamaica,\n_and why_, ib. _Sir_ Nicholas Laws _his Letter to the_ Alcaldes _of_\nTrinidado, 39, 40. _Mr._ Joseph Laws, _Lieutenant of the_ Happy Snow _his\nLetter to the_ Alcaldes _of_ Trinidado, 41. _The_ Alcaldes _Answer to the\nLieutenant's Letter_, 41, 42. _The Lieutenant's Reply to the_ Alcaldes\n_Answer_, 42, 43. _The_ Alcaldes _Answer again_, 43. _Some Account of_\nRichard Holland, ib. _Prizes taken by him_, 44.\nCHAP. I. Of Captain AVERY, and his CREW.\nR_Omantick Reports of his Greatness_, 45, 46. _His Birth_, 46. _Is\nMate of a_ Bristol _Man_, 47, _For what Voyage design'd_, ib. _Tampers with\nthe Seamen_, ib. _Forms a Plot for carrying off the Ship_, 47, 48.\n_Executes it, and how_, ib. _The Pyrates take a rich Ship belonging to the_\nGreat Mogul, 50. _The_ Great Mogul _threaten the_ English _Settlements_,\n51. _The Pyrates steer their Course back for_ Madagascar, 52. _Call a\nCouncil. Put all the Treasure on Board of_ Avery'_s Ship_, ib. Avery _and\nhis Crew treacherously leaves his Confederates; go to the Isle of_\nProvidence _in the_ West-Indies, 53. _Sell the Ship, go to_ North-America\n_in a Sloop_, 54. _They disperse_, Avery _goes to_ New-England, ib. _From\nthence to_ Ireland, ib. Avery _afraid to expose his Diamonds to sale. Goes\nover to_ England, ib. _Puts his Wealth into Merchants Hands, of_ Bristol,\n55. _Changes his Name. Lives at_ Biddiford, ib. _The Merchants send him no\nSupplies_, ib. _Importunes them. Goes privately to_ Bristol, _they threaten\nto discover him_, ib. _Goes over to_ Ireland, _sollicites them from\nthence_, 56. _Is very poor, works his Passage over to_ Plymouth, _walks to_\nBiddiford. _Dies a Beggar_, ib. _An Account of_ Avery'_s Confederates_, ib.\n_Their Settlement at_ Madagascar, 57. _They meet other Pyrates; an Account\nof them_, ib. _The Pyrates arrive to great Power. The Inhabitants\ndescribed_, 58. _Their Policy, Government_, &c. _Places describ'd_, 59.\n_The Arrival of Captain_ Woods Rogers _at that Part of the Island_, 61.\n_Their Design of surprizing his Ship_, 62. _One of these Princes formerly a\nWaterman on the_ Thames, 63. _Their Secretaries, Men of no Learning. Could\nneither write nor read_, ib.\nCHAP. II. Of Captain MARTEL, and his CREW.\nW_AY to suppress Pyrates_, 64. _The Increase of Pyrates accounted\nfor_, 65. _Where_ Martel _learned his Trade_, ib. _The Names of several\nPrizes taken, by him_, 65, 66, 67. _His Strength at_ Sancta Cruz, 67. _His\nManner of fortifying himself there_, ib. _Is attack'd by the_ Scarborough\n_Man of War_, 68. _His defence by Land and Sea_, ib. _His desperate\nEscape_, 69. _His miserable End_, ib.\nCHAP. III. Of Captain TEACH, alias BLACK-BEARD.\nH_IS Beginning_, 70. _His Confederacy with_ Hornygold, ib. _The\nConfederacy broke_, 71. _Takes a large_ Guiney _Man_, ib. _Engages the_\nScarborough _Man of War_, ib. _His Alliance with Major_ Stede Bonnet, ib.\n_Deposes his new Ally_, ib. _His Advice to the Major_, ib. _His Progress\nand Success_, 72. _Takes Prizes in Sight of_ Charles-Town, 73. _Sends\nAmbassadors to the Governor of_ Carolina, _upon an impudent Demand_, ib.\n_Runs his Ship aground designedly_, 74. _His Cruelty to some of his own\nCompanions. Surrenders to the King's Proclamation_, 75. _The Governor of_\nNorth-Carolina'_s exceeding Generosity to him_, ib. _He marries_, ib. _The\nNumber of his Wives then living_, ib. _His conjugal Virtues_, 75, 76.\n_Makes a second Excursion in the Way of pyrating_, 76. _Some State\nLegerdemain betwixt him and the Governor_, ib. _His modest Behaviour in the\nRiver_, 77. _His Frolicks on Shore_, ib. _The Merchants apply for a Force\nagainst him, and where_, 78. _A Proclamation with a Reward for taking or\nkilling of Pyrates_, 79, 80. _Lieutenant_ Maynard _sent in pursuit of him_,\n80. Black-beard'_s good Intelligence_, 81. _The Lieutenant engages_\nBlack-beard, ib. _A most execrable Health drank by_ Black-beard 82. _The\nFight bloody; the Particulars of it_, 82, 83, 84. Black-beard _kill'd_, 84.\n_His Sloop taken_, ib. _The Lieutenant's Conduct_, 84, 85. _A Reflection on\nthe Humours of Seamen_, 85. Black-beard'_s Correspondents discover'd by his\nPapers_, ib. Black-beard'_s desperate Resolution before the Fight_, ib.\n_The Lieutenant and Governor no very good Friends_, 86. _The Prisoners\nhang'd_, ib. Samuel Odel _saved, and why_, ib. _The good Luck of_ Israel\nHands, 87. Black-beard'_s mischievous Frolicks_, ib. _His_ Beard\n_described_, ib. _Several Instances if his Wickedness_, 88, 89. _Some\nMemorandums taken from his Journal_, 89. _The Names of the Pyrates kill'd\nin the Engagement_, 90. _Of those executed_, ib. _The Value of the Prize_,\nib.\nCHAP. IV. Of Major STEDE BONNET, and his CREW.\nB_RED a Gentleman_, 91. _Supposed to be disorder'd in his Senses_,\nib. _His Beginning as a Pyrate_, ib. _Takes Prizes_, 92. _Divisions in his\nCrew_, ib. _Meets_ Black-beard, ib. _Is deposed from his Command_, 93. _His\nmelancholy Reflections_, ib. _Surrenders to the King's Proclamation_, ib.\n_His new Project_, ib. _Saves some Pyrates marroon'd_, 94. _Begins the old\nTrade again_, 95. _An Account of Prizes taken by him_, 95, 96. _Colonel_\nRhet _goes in Quest of Pyrates_, 97. Yates _the Pyrate surrenders_, 98. _An\nEngagement betwixt Colonel_ Rhet _and Major_ Bonnet, 100. _An Account of\nthe kill'd and wounded_, ib. _The Prisoners carried to_ Charles-Town, ib.\n_The Major and the Master Escape_, ib. _Taken again by Colonel_ Rhet, 101.\n_A Court of Vice-Admiralty held_, ib. _The Names of those arraign'd_, 102,\n103. _The Form of their Indictment_, 104. _Their Defence_, 105. _The Names\nof those who received Sentence_, 106. _An excellent Speech made by the Lord\nChief Justice on pronouncing Sentence on the Major_, 107 _to_ 112.\nCHAP. V. Of Capt. EDW. ENGLAND, and his CREW.\nH_IS Beginning and Character_, 113, 114. _A most barbarous Action of\nhis Crew_, 114, 115. _The Names of Prizes taken by him_, 115, 116. _The\nMisfortunes of his Confederates_, 116, 117. England'_s Progress half round\nthe Globe_, 117, 118. _A short Description of the Coast of_ Malabar, ib.\n_What they did at_ Madagascar, 118. _Takes an_ East-India _Man_, ib. _The\nParticulars of the Action in Captain_ Mackra'_s Letter_, 119 _to_ 122.\n_Captain_ Mackra _ventures on Board the Pyrate_, 122. _Is in Danger of\nbeing murder'd_; 123. _Preserv'd by a pleasant Incident_, ib. _The Pyrates\nGenerosity to him_, ib. _Captain_ England _deposed, and why_, 124.\n_Maroon'd on the Island_ Mauritius, ib. _Some Account of that Island_, ib.\n_The Adventures of the Company continued_, 124 _to_ 126. Angria, _an_\nIndian _Pyrate_, 127. _his Strength by Land and Sea_, ib. _The_ East-India\n_Company's Wars with him_, 127, 128. _The Pyrates go to the Island of_\nMelinda, 129. _Their barbarous Behaviour there_, ib. _Hear of Captain_\nMackra'_s Designs against them_, ib. _Their Reflections thereupon_, 130.\n_Sail for_ Cochin, _a_ Dutch _Settlement_, ib. _The Pyrates and the_ Dutch\n_very good Friends_, 131. _Mutual Presents made betwixt the Pyrates and the\nGovernor_, ib. _The Pyrates in a Fright_, 133. _Almost starv'd_, ib. _Take\na Prize of an immense Value_, 134. _Take an_ Ostend East-India _Man_, ib.\n_A short Description of_ Madagascar, 135, 136. _A prodigious Dividend made\nby the Pyrates_, 136. _A Fellow's Way of increasing his Diamonds_, ib.\n_Some of the Pyrates quit, and join the Remains of_ Avery, ib. _The\nProceedings of the Men of War in those Parts_, 137, 138. _Some_ Dutch _Men\npetition to be among the Pyrates_, 138. _The Pyrates divided in their\nMeasures_, 139. _Break up_, ib. _What became of them_, 139, 140.\nCHAP. VI. Of Capt. CHARLES VANE, and his CREW.\nVANE'_s Behaviour at_ Providence, 141. _The Names of Prizes taken by\nhim_, 141, 142. _Is deserted by his Consort_ Yates, 143. Yates _surrenders\nat_ Charles-Town, ib. _A Stratagem of_ Vane'_s_, 144. Black-beard _and_\nVane _meet_, 145. _They salute after the Pyrates Manner_, ib. Vane _deposed\nfrom his Command, and why_, 146. 15 _Hands degraded, and turned out with\nhim_, ib. _A Sloop given them_, 147. _They sail in Quest of Adventures, and\ntake Prizes_, ib. Vane _cast away upon an uninhabited Island_, ib. _Meets\nwith an old Acquaintance_, 148. Vane _seiz'd with a Qualm of Honour_, ib.\n_Ships himself on Board a Vessel, passing for another Man_, ib. _Is\ndiscover'd, with the Manner how_, 149. _Carried to_ Jamaica, _and hang'd_,\nib.\nCHAP. VII. Of Capt. RACKAM, and his CREW.\nRACKAM'_s beginning as a Pyrate_, 150, 151. _An Account of Prizes\ntaken by him_, 151. _Is attack'd by a_ Spanish _Guard Ship_, ib. _His\nStratagem to escape_, 152. _More Prizes taken by him_, 153. _Is taken, and\nhow_, 154. _Tried, condemned, and executed at_ Jamaica, ib. _The Names of\nhis Crew condemn'd with him_, 154. _An extraordinary Case of nine taken\nwith him_, ib. _Some Account of the Proceedings against them_, 154, 155.\nThe LIFE of MARY READ.\nMARY Read_'s Birth_, 157. _Reasons for dressing her in Breeches_,\n158. _Waits upon a Lady; goes into the Army_, 159. _Her Behaviour in\nseveral Engagements_, ib. _She falls in Love with her Comrade_, ib. _Her\nSex discovered; the two Troopers married_, 160. _Settles at_ Breda, ib.\n_Her Husband dies, she reassumes the Breeches_, ib. _Goes to_ Holland. _To\nthe_ West-Indies, 161. _Turns Pyrate_. Anne Bonny, _another Pyrate, falls\nin Love with her_, 162. _Her Adventures to_ 165.\nThe LIFE of ANNE BONNY.\nANNE Bonny _born a Bastard_, 166. _Her Mother's Intrigues strangely\ndiscover'd_, 167. _Her Father lies with his own Wife, by mistake_, 169.\n_She proves with Child; the Husband jealous_, 170. _He separates from his\nWife; lives with_ Anne Bonny_'s Mother_, 171. Anne Bonny _put into Breeches\nfor a Disguise, how discovered_, ib. _The Father becomes poor. Goes to_\nCarolina, 172. _Improves his Fortune_. Anne Bonny _marries against his\nConsent. Her fierce Temper_, ib. _Goes to_ Providence _with her Husband_,\nib. _Enticed to Sea in Men's Cloaths, by_ Rackam _the Pyrate_, 173.\n_Reproaches_ Rackam _with Cowardice at his Execution_, ib.\nCHAP. VIII. Of Capt. HOWEL DAVIS, and his Crew.\nT_HE Original of_ Davis, 174. _Is taken by the Pyrate_ England, ib.\nEngland_'s Generosity to him_, 175. _Is cast into Prison at_ Barbadoes,\n_and why_, ib. _Goes to_ Providence, ib. _Employ'd in a trading Vessel,\nseizes the Ship_, 176. _An Instance of his great Courage and good Conduct_,\n177, 178. _Goes to_ Cape de Verd Islands, ib. _Take several Prizes_, ib.\n_Take the Fort of St._ Jago _by Storm_, 180. _A Council call'd_, ib. _Sail\nfor_ Gambia, 181. _Takes_ Gambia _Castle by Stratagem_, 181 _to_ 184.\n_Meets_ La Bouche, _a_ French _Pyrate_, 184. _His Adventures with_ Cocklyn\n_the Pyrate, at_ Sierraleone, 185. _The Fort attack'd and taken, by three\nConfederate Pyrates_, 186. _The Pyrates quarrel and part_, ib. _The\nlaconick Speech of_ Davis _to them_, ib. _His fierce Engagement with a\nlarge_ Dutch _Ship_, 187. _An Account of several Prizes taken by him_, ib.\n_A Description of the Island of St._ Thome, Del Principe, _and_ Annobono,\n_from_ 188 _to_ 204. _The_ Dutch _Governor of_ Acra _taken by_ Davis, 205.\nDavis _well received by the Governor of_ Princes, ib. _His Stratagem to\ncome at the Wealth of the Island_, 206. _Is counterplotted and kill'd, by\nan Ambuscade_, 207.\nCHAP. IX. Of Capt. BAR. ROBERTS, and his CREW.\nH_IS Beginning_, 208. _Elected Captain in the Room of_ Davis, 209.\n_The Speech of Lord_ Dennis _at the Election_, ib. _Lord_ Sympson _objects\nagainst a Papist_, ib. _The Death of_ Davis _reveng'd_, 210. Roberts _sails\nSouthward, in Quest of Adventures_, 211. _The Names of the Prizes taken by\nthem_, ib. Brasil _describ'd, from_ 211 _to_ 221. Roberts _falls into a\nFleet of_ Portuguese, 221. _Boards and takes the richest Ship amongst\nthem_, 222. _Make the_ Devil_'s Islands_, 223. _An unfortunate Adventure\nof_ Roberts, 224. Kennedy_'s Treachery_, 225. Irishmen _excluded by_\nRoberts _and his Crew_, 230. _Articles sworn to by them_, ib. _A Copy of\nthem from_, 230 _to_ 233. _Some Account of the Laws and Customs of the\nPyrates_, 233, 234. _An Instance of_ Roberts _his Cunning_, 234. _He\nproceeds again upon Business, and takes Prizes_, 235. _Narrowly escapes\nbeing taken_, 236. _Sails for the Island_ Dominico, ib. _Another Escape_,\n237. _Sails for_ Newfoundland, ib. _Plunders, sinks and burns_ 22 _Sail in\nthe Harbour of_ Trepassi, ib. _Plunders ten Sail of_ French _Men_, 238.\n_The mad Behaviour of the Crew_, 238, 239. _A Correspondence hinted at_,\n240. _The Pyrates caress'd at the Island of St._ Bartholomew, ib. _In\nextream Distress_, 241, 242. _Sail for_ Martinico, 243. _A Stratagem of_\nRoberts, ib. _The insolent Device in his Colours_, 244. _And odd Compliment\npaid to_ Roberts, ib. _Three Men desert the Pyrates, and are taken by\nthem_, 245. _Their Tryal_, 245, 246. _Two executed, and one saved_, 247.\n_The Brigantine deserts them_, 248. _Great Divisions in the Company_, 248,\n249. _A Description of_ Sierraleone _River_, 250. _The Names of_ English\n_settled there, and Way of Life_, 251, 252, 253. _The_ Onslow, _belonging\nto the_ African _Company taken_, 254. _The Pyrates Contempt of Soldiers_,\nib. _They are for entertaining a Chaplain_, ib. _Their Skirmish with the_\nCalabar _Negroes_, 256. _The_ King Solomon, _belonging to the_ African\n_Company, taken_, 258. _The Frolicks of the Pyrates_, ib. _Take eleven Sail\nin_ Whydah _Road_, 259. _A comical Receipt given by the Pyrates_, 260. _A\ncruel Action of_ Roberts, 261. _Sails for_ Anna Bona, 262. _The Progress of\nthe_ Swallow _Man of War, in Pursuit of_ Roberts, _from_ 262 _to_ 267.\nRoberts _his Consort taken_, 267. _The Bravery of_ Skyrme, _a_ Welch\n_Pyrate_, 268. _The surly Humour of some of the Prisoners_, 268, 269. _The_\nSwallow _comes up with_ Roberts, 270. Roberts _his Dress described_, 271.\n_Is kill'd_, 272. _His Character_, ib. _His Ship taken_, 273. _The\nBehaviour of the Pyrates, when Prisoners_, 275. _A Conspiracy of theirs\ndiscovered_, 276, 277. _Reflections on the Manner of trying them_, 278,\n279, 280. _The Form of the Commission for trying the Pyrates_, 281. _The\nOath taken by the Commissioners_, 282. _The Names of those arraign'd taken\nin the Ship_ Ranger, 282, 283, 284. _The Form of the Indictment_, 284, 285.\n_The Sum of the Evidence against them_, 285, 286. _Their Defence_, 287,\n288. _The Names of the Prisoners of the_ Royal Fortune, 288, 289, 290.\n_Proceedings against them_, 291 _to_ 304. Harry Glasby _acquitted_, 304.\n_The particular Tryal of Captain_ James Skyrme, 304, 305. _Of_ John Walden,\n305 _to_ 308. _Of_ Peter Scudamore, 308 _to_ 311. _Of_ Robert Johnson, 311,\n312. _Of_ George Wilson, 312 _to_ 317. _Of_ Benjamin Jeffries, 317, 318.\n_Of_ John Mansfield, 318, 319. _Of_ William Davis, 319 _to_ 321. _The Names\nof those executed at_ Cape Corso, 321, 322. _The Petition of some\ncondemn'd_, 323. _The Courts Resolution_, ibid. _The Form of an Indenture\nof a pardon'd Pyrate_, 324. _The Names of those pardon'd upon Indenture to\nserve seven Years_, 325. _The Pyrates how disposed of_, 326. _The dying\nBehaviour of those executed_, 326 _to_ 329.\nCHAP. X. Of Capt. ANSTIS, and his CREW.\nH_IS Beginning as a Pyrate_, 330. _A most brutish Action supposed to\nbe committed by his Crew_, 331. _Civil Discords amongst them_, 332. _The\nPyrates Term of_ Round Robin _explain'd_, ib. _They land on an uninhabited\nIsland_, ib. _A Petition for Pardon agreed on_, ib. _The Form of that\nPetition_, 333. _Their Diversions, and Manner of living on the Island_,\n334, 335. _Their mock Tryal of one another_, 336 _to_ 338. _They put to Sea\nagain_, 338. _Their Petition not answer'd_, ib. _The_ Morning Star\n_Wreck'd_, ib. Anstis _narrowly escapes being taken_, 339. _A Plot\ndiscover'd_, ib. _The Crew gathers Strength again_, 340. _Surprised by the_\nWinchelsea _Man of War at_ Tobago, ib. _Fire one of their Ships_, ib.\nAnstis _escapes_, ib. _Is killed by a Conspiracy of his own Men_, 341. _The\nShip surrender'd at_ Curaco, ib. _Several hang'd there_, ib. Fen _hanged\nat_ Antegoa, ib. _The good Luck of those who fled to the Woods_, ib.\nCHAP. XI. Of Capt. WORLEY, and his CREW.\nH_IS mad Beginning_, 342. _His Success_, 343, 344. _Bind themselves\nby Oath to take no Quarters_, 344. _A false Alarm at_ James-Town, 345.\nWorley _catches a_ Tartar, ib. _The desperate Resolution of the Pyrates_,\n346. Worley _hanged_, ib.\nCHAP. XII. Of Capt. GEO. LOWTHER, and his CREW.\nH_IS Beginning_, 347. _Plots with_ Massey, 349. Massey'_s Conduct_,\n350, 351. Lowther'_s Proposal_, 351. _A Copy of Articles drawn up, and\nsworn to_, 352. _The Pyrates going by the Ears_, 354. _How Rogues are made\nFriends_, ib. Lowther _and_ Massey _part_, 355. _A Digression concerning_\nMassey'_s mad Conduct_, 355 _to_ 357. Lowther _and_ Low _meet_, 358. _An\nAlliance betwixt them_, ib. _A List of Prizes taken by them_, 359. _An\nunlucky Adventure at_ Cape Mayo, 359, 360. Lowther _and_ Low _break the\nAlliance, and part_, 361. _The Bravery of Captain_ Gwatkins, ib. _The\nPyrates much reduced_, 362. _Winter in_ North-Carolina, ib. _Put to Sea\nagain_, ib. _Make for the Island of_ Blanco, 363. _The Island described_,\nib. _Are surprised and taken_, 364. Lowther _escapes_, ib. _The Names of\nthe Prisoners, and Fate_, ib. Lowther'_s Death_, 365.\nCHAP. XIII. Of Capt. LOW and his CREW.\nLOW'_s Original_, 366, 367. _The Virtues of his Family, ib. His bold\nBeginnings_, 368. _Declares War against the whole World_, ib. _His\nSuccess_, 369, 370. _Like to perish by a Storm_, 371, 372. _Sail for the\nWestern Island_, 373. _Treats with the Governor of St._ Michael _for\nWater_, ib. _Several Instances of their wanton Cruelty_, 374. Low'_s\nConsort taken, and how_, 376. _A horrid Massacre committed by_ Low. 376,\n377. _Takes a Multitude of Prizes_, 377. _Another barbarous Massacre_, 379.\n_More Cruelties_, 379, 380. Low _and his Consort attack'd by the_ Greyhound\n_Man of War_, 380, 381. Low _deserts his Consort_, 381. _The Consort\ntaken_, ib. _Carried to_ Rhode Island, 382. _The Names, Age, and Places of\nBirth, of the Prisoners_, 382, 383. _A Compliment paid to Captain_ Solgard,\n_by the Corporation of_ New-York, 384. _The Resolution of the Mayor and\nCommon-Council_, ib. _The Preamble of the Captain's Freedom_, 385. _More\nInstances of_ Low'_s Cruelty_, 388, 389. _His Adventures continued to_ 390.\nCHAP. XIV. Of Capt. JOHN EVANS and his CREW.\nB_EGINS with House-breaking_, 391. _Seizes a Sloop_, 392. _Robs a\nHouse the same Night_, ib. _Put to Sea, and take valuable Prizes_, 393.\nEvans _shot dead by his Boatswain_, 394, _His Death reveng'd_, ib. _The\nCompany breaks up_, 395.\nCHAP. XV. Of Capt. JOHN PHILLIPS, and his CREW.\nPHILLIPS _his Original_, 396. _How he became a Pyrate_, ib. _His\nReturn to_ England _accounted for_, ib. _Ships again for_ Newfoundland, ib.\n_Deserts his Ship in_ Peter _Harbour_, 397. _He and four others seize a\nVessel_, ib. _Sail out a pyrating_, ib. _Articles sworn to upon a Hatchet_,\nib. _A Copy of the Articles_, 397, 398. _Ill Blood amongst them, and why_,\n399. _Are almost starved_, ib, _Take Prizes_, ib. Phillips _proposes to\nclean at_ Tobago, _and why_, ib. _Meets an old Acquaintance_, 400.\n_Frighten'd from the Island_, ib. _A Conspiracy to run away with the\nPrize_, ib. _A Skirmish_, ib. _The Carpenter's Dexterity in cutting off\nLegs_, ib. Fern _kill'd by_ Phillips, _and why_, 401. _The Danger of\nattempting an Escape among the Pyrates_, ib. _Captain_ Mortimer'_s Bravery,\nand hard Fate_, 401, 402. _Captain_ Mortimer'_s Brother escapes, and how_,\n402. Cheeseman'_s Steps for overthrowing the Pyrates Government_, 403. _A\nDigression concerning_ Newfoundland, _and its Trade_, 403, 404. _The\nPyrates recruited with Men from thence_, 405. Phillips _his Conscience\npricks him_, ib. Dependence Ellery, _a Saint, oblig'd to dance by the\nPyrates_, 406. _A brave Action perform'd by_ Cheesemen, 407. _Carries the\nPyrate Ship into_ Boston, 408. _The dying Declarations of_ John Rose\nArcher, _and_ William White, 408, 409.\nCHAP. XVI. Of Captain SPRIGGS, and his CREW.\nSPRIGGS _his Beginning_, 411. _How he set up for himself_, ib.\n_Sweats his Prisoners for Diversion_, 412. _The Pyrates mistake in drinking\nHealths_, 413. _Take_ Hawkins _a second time_, 414. _Burn his Ship, and\nwhy_, ib. _An odd Entertainment given him by the Pyrates_, ib. _Captain_\nHawkins _how disposed of_, 414, 415. Spriggs _barbarous Usage of his\nPrisoners_, 415, 416. _Takes a Ship loaden with Horses_, 416. _An odd\nFrolick of the Pyrates_, ib. _Two particular Relations of Pyracy, from_ 417\nTHE HISTORY OF THE PYRATES.\nINTRODUCTION.\nAS the Pyrates in the _West-Indies_ have been so formidable and\nnumerous, that they have interrupted the Trade of _Europe_ into those\nParts; and our _English_ Merchants, in particular, have suffered more by\ntheir Depredations, than by the united Force of _France_ and _Spain_, in\nthe late War: We do not doubt but the World will be curious to know the\nOriginal and Progress of these Desperadoes, who were the Terror of the\ntrading Part of the World.\nBut before we enter upon their particular History, it will not be amiss, by\nway of Introduction, to shew, by some Examples drawn from History, the\ngreat Mischief and Danger which threaten Kingdoms and Commonwealths, from\nthe Increase of these sort of Robbers; when either by the Troubles of\nparticular Times, or the Neglect of Governments, they are not crush'd\nbefore they gather Strength.\nIt has been the Case heretofore, that when a single Pyrate has been\nsuffered to range the Seas, as not being worth the Notice of a Government,\nhe has by Degrees grown so powerful, as to put them to the Expence of a\ngreat deal of Blood and Treasure, before he was suppress'd. We shall not\nexamine how it came to pass, that our Pyrates in the _West-Indies_ have\ncontinually increased till of late; this is an Enquiry which belongs to the\nLegislature, or Representatives of the People in Parliament, and to them we\nshall leave it.\nOur Business shall be briefly to shew, what from Beginnings, as\ninconsiderable as these, other Nations have suffered.\nIn the Times of _Marius_ and _Sylla_, _Rome_ was in her greatest Strength,\nyet she was so torn in Pieces by the Factions of those two great Men, that\nevery Thing which concerned the publick Good was altogether neglected, when\ncertain Pyrates broke out from _Cicilia_, a Country of _Asia Minor_,\nsituate on the Coast of the _Mediterranean_, betwixt _Syria_ on the East,\nfrom whence it is divided by Mount _Tauris_, and _Armenia Minor_ on the\nWest. This Beginning was mean and inconsiderable, having but two or three\nShips, and a few Men, with which they cruised about the _Greek_ Islands,\ntaking such Ships as were very ill arm'd or weakly defended; however, by\nthe taking of many Prizes, they soon increased in Wealth and Power: The\nfirst Action of their's which made a Noise, was the taking of _Julius\nC\u00e6sar_, who was as yet a Youth, and who being obliged to fly from the\nCruelties of _Sylla_, who sought his Life, went into _Bithinia_, and\nsojourned a while with _Nicomedes_, King of that Country; in his Return\nback by Sea, he was met with, and taken, by some of these Pyrates, near the\nIsland of _Pharmacusa_: These Pyrates had a barbarous Custom of tying their\nPrisoners Back to Back and throwing them into the Sea; but, supposing\n_C\u00e6sar_ to be some Person of a high Rank, because of his purple Robes, and\nthe Number of his Attendants, they thought it would be more for their\nProfit to preserve him, in hopes of receiving a great Sum for his Ransom;\ntherefore they told him he should have his Liberty, provided he would pay\nthem twenty Talents, which they judg'd to be a very high Demand, in our\nMoney, about three thousand six hundred Pounds Sterling; he smiled, and of\nhis own Accord promised them fifty Talents; they were both pleased, and\nsurpriz'd at his Answer, and consented that several of his Attendants\nshould go by his Direction and raise the Money; and he was left among these\nRuffians with no more than 3 Attendants. He pass'd eight and thirty Days,\nand seemed so little concerned or afraid, that often when he went to sleep,\nhe used to charge them not to make a Noise, threatening, if they disturbed\nhim, to hang them all; he also play'd at Dice with them, and sometimes\nwrote Verses and Dialogues, which he used to repeat, and also cause them to\nrepeat, and if they did not praise and admire them, he would call them\nBeasts and Barbarians, telling them he would crucify them. They took all\nthese as the Sallies of a juvenile Humour, and were rather diverted, than\ndispleased at them.\nAt length his Attendants return'd with his Ransom, which he paid, and was\ndischarged; he sail'd for the Port of _Miletum_, where, as soon as he was\narriv'd, he used all his Art and Industry in fitting out a Squadron of\nShips, which he equipp'd and arm'd at his own Charges; and sailing in Quest\nof the Pyrates, he surpriz'd them as they lay at Anchor among the Islands,\nand took those who had taken him before, with some others; the Money he\nfound upon them he made Prize of, to reimburse his Charges, and he carry'd\nthe Men to _Pergamus_ or _Troy_, and there secured them in Prison: In the\nmean Time, he apply'd himself to _Junius_, then Governor of _Asia_, to whom\nit belonged to judge and determine of the Punishment of these Men; but\n_Junius_ finding there was no Money to be had, answered _C\u00e6sar_, that he\nwould think at his Leisure, what was to be done with those Prisoners;\n_C\u00e6sar_ took his Leave of him, returned back to _Pergamus_, and commanded\nthat the Prisoners should be brought out and executed, according to Law in\nthat Case provided; which is taken Notice of, in a Chapter at the End of\nthis Book, concerning the Laws in Cases of Pyracy: And thus he gave them\nthat Punishment in Earnest, which he had often threatned them with in Jest.\n_C\u00e6sar_ went strait to Rome, where, being engaged in the Designs of his own\nprivate Ambition, as were almost all the leading Men in Rome, the Pyrates\nwho were left, had Time to increase to a prodigious Strength; for while the\ncivil Wars lasted, the Seas were left unguarded, so that _Plutarch_ tells\nus, that they erected diverse Arsenals full of all manner of warlike\nStores, made commodious Harbours, set up Watch-Towers and Beacons all along\nthe Coasts of _Cilicia_; that they had a mighty Fleet, well equipp'd and\nfurnish'd, with Galliots of Oars, mann'd, not only with Men of desperate\nCourage, but also with expert Pilots and Mariners; they had their Ships of\nForce, and light Pinnaces for cruising and making Discoveries, in all no\nless than a thousand Sail; so gloriously set out, that they were as much to\nbe envied for their gallant Shew, as fear'd for their Force; having the\nStern and Quarters all gilded with Gold and their Oars plated with Silver,\nas well as purple Sails; as if their greatest Delight had been to glory in\ntheir Iniquity. Nor were they content with committing Pyracies and\nInsolencies by Sea, they committed as great Depredations by Land, or rather\nmade Conquests; for they took and sack'd no less than four hundred Cities,\nlaid several others under Contributions, plundered the Temples of the Gods,\nand inriched themselves with the Offerings deposited in them; they often\nlanded Bodies of Men, who not only plundered the Villages along the Sea\nCoast, but ransacked the fine Houses of the Noblemen along the Tiber. A\nBody of them once took _Sextillius_ and _Bellinus_, two _Roman_ Pr\u00e6tors, in\ntheir purple Robes, going from Rome to their Governments, and carried them\naway with all their Sergeants, Officers and Vergers; they also took the\nDaughter of _Antonius_ a consular Person, and one who had obtained the\nHonour of a Triumph, as she was going to the Country House of her Father.\nBut what was most barbarous, was a Custom they had when they took any Ship,\nof enquiring of the Person on Board, concerning their Names and Country; if\nany of them said he was a _Roman_, they fell down upon their Knees, as if\nin a Fright at the Greatness of that Name, and begg'd Pardon for what they\nhad done, and imploring his Mercy, they used to perform the Offices of\nServants about his Person, and when they found they had deceived him into a\nBelief of their being sincere, they hung out the Ladder of the Ship, and\ncoming with a shew of Courtesy, told him, he had his Liberty, desiring him\nto walk out of the Ship, and this in the Middle of the Sea, and when they\nobserved him in Surprize, as was natural, they used to throw him overboard\nwith mighty shouts of Laughter; so wanton they were in their Cruelty.\nThus, while _Rome_ was Mistress oft he World, she suffered Insults and\nAffronts, almost at her Gates, from these powerful Robbers; but what for a\nwhile made Faction cease, and roused the Genius of that People, never used\nto suffer Wrongs from a fair Enemy, was an excessive Scarcity of Provisions\nin _Rome_, occasioned by all the Ships loaden with Corn and Provisions from\n_Sicily_, _Corsica_, and other Places, being intercepted and taken by these\nPyrates, insomuch that they were almost reduced to a Famine: Upon this,\n_Pompey_ the _Great_ was immediately appointed General to manage this War;\nfive hundered Ships were immediately fitted out, he had fourteen Senators,\nMen of Experience in the War, for his Vice-Admirals; and so considerable an\nEnemy, were these Ruffians become, that no less than an Army of a hundred\nthousand Foot, and five thousand Horse was appointed to invade them by\nLand; but it happened very luckily for _Rome_, that _Pompey_ sail'd out\nbefore the Pyrate had Intelligence of a Design against them, so that their\nShips were scattered all over the _Mediterranean_, like Bees gone out from\na Hive, some one Way, some another, to bring Home their Lading; _Pompey_\ndivided his Fleet into thirteen Squadrons, to whom he appointed their\nseveral Stations, so that great Numbers of the Pyrates fell into their\nHands, Ship by Ship, without any Loss; forty Days he passed in scouring the\n_Mediterranean_, some of the Fleet cruizing along the Coast of _Africk_,\nsome about the Islands, and some upon the Italian Coasts, so that often\nthose Pyrates who were flying from one Squadron, fell in with another;\nhowever, some of them escaped, and these making directly to _Cilicia_, and\nacquainting their Confederates on Shore with what had happened, they\nappointed a Rendezvous of all the Ships that had escaped at the Port of\n_Coracesium_, in the same Country. _Pompey_ finding the _Mediterranean_\nquite clear, appointed a Meeting of all his Fleet at the Haven of\n_Brundusium_, and from thence sailing round into the _Adriatick_, he went\ndirectly to attack these Pyrates in their Hives; as soon as he came near\nthe _Coracesium_ in _Cilicia_, where the Remainder of the Pyrates now lay,\nthey had the Hardiness to come and give him Battle, but the Genius of old\n_Rome_ prevailed, and the Pyrates received an entire Overthrow, being all\neither taken or destroyed; but as they made many strong Fortresses upon the\nSea Coast, and built Castles and strong Holds up the Country, about the\nFoot of Mount _Taurus_, he was obliged to besiege them with his Army; some\nPlaces he took by Storm, others surrendered to his Mercy, to whom he gave\ntheir Lives, and at length he made an entire Conquest.\nBut it is probable, that had these Pyrates receiv'd sufficient Notice of\nthe _Roman_ Preparation against them, so as they might have had Time to\ndraw their scattered Strength into a Body, to have met _Pompey_ by Sea, the\nAdvantage appeared greatly on their Side, in Numbers of Shipping, and of\nMen; nor did they want Courage, as may be seen by their coming out of the\nPort of _Coracesium_, to give the _Romans_ Battle, with a Force much\ninferior to their's; I say, had they overthrown _Pompey_, it is likely they\nwould have made greater Attempts, and _Rome_, which had conquer'd the whole\nWorld, might have been subdued by a Parcel of Pyrates.\nThis is a Proof how dangerous it is to Governments to be negligent, and not\ntake an early Care in suppressing these Sea Banditti, before they gather\nStrength.\nThe Truth of this Maxim may be better exemplified in the History of\n_Barbarouse_, a Native in the City of _Mitylene_, in the Island of\n_Lesbos_, in the _Egean_ Sea; a Fellow of ordinary Birth, who being bred to\nthe Sea, first set out from thence upon the pyrating Account with only one\nsmall Vessel, but by the Prizes he took, he gain'd immense Riches, so that\ngetting a great Number of large Ships, all the bold and dissolute Fellows\nof those Islands flock'd to him, and listed in his Service, for the Hopes\nof Booty; so that his Strength was increased to a formidable Fleet: With\nthese he perform'd such bold and adventurous Actions, that he became the\nTerror of the Seas. About this Time it happened that _Selim Eutemi_, King\nof _Algiers_, having refused to pay the accustomed Tribute to the\n_Spaniards_, was apprehensive of an Invasion from thence; wherefore he\ntreated with _Barbarouse_, upon the Foot of an Ally, to come and assist\nhim, and deliver him from paying this Tribute; _Barbarouse_ readily came\ninto it, and sailing to _Algiers_ with a great Fleet, he put part of his\nMen on Shore, and having laid a Plot to surprize the City, he effected it\nwith great Success, and murder'd _Selim_ in a Bath; soon after which, he\nwas himself crowned King of _Algiers_; after this he made War upon\n_Abdilabde_, King of _Tunis_, and overthrew him in Battle; he extended his\nConquests on all Sides; and thus from a Thief became a mighty King: and\ntho' he was at last kill'd in Battle, yet he had so well established\nhimself upon that Throne, that, dying without Issue, he left the\nInheritance of the Kingdom to his Brother, another Pyrate.\nI come now to speak of the Pyrates infesting the _West-Indies_, where they\nare more numerous than in any other Parts of the World, on several Reasons:\n_First_, Because there are so many uninhabited little Islands and Keys,\nwith Harbours convenient and secure for cleaning their Vessels, and\nabounding with what they often want, Provision; I mean Water, Sea-Fowl,\nTurtle, Shell, and other Fish; where, if they carry in but strong Liquor,\nthey indulge a Time, and become ready for new Expeditions before any\nIntelligence can reach to hurt them.\nIt may here perhaps be no unnecessary Digression, to explain upon what they\ncall Keys in the _West-Indies_: These are small sandy Islands, appearing a\nlittle above the Surf of the Water, with only a few Bushes or Weeds upon\nthem, but abound (those most at any Distance from the Main) with Turtle,\namphibious Animals, that always chuse the quietest and most unfrequented\nPlace, for laying their Eggs, which are to a vast Number in the Seasons,\nand would seldom be seen, but for this, (except by Pyrates:) Then Vessels\nfrom _Jamaica_ and the other Governments make Voyages, called Turtling, for\nsupplying the People, a common and approved Food with them. I am apt to\nthink these _Keys_, especially those nigh Islands, to have been once\ncontiguous with them, and separated by Earthquakes (frequently there) or\nInundations, because some of them that have been within continual View, as\nthose nigh _Jamaica_, are observed within our Time, to be entirely wasted\naway and lost, and others daily wasting. There are not only of the Use\nabove taken Notice of to Pyrates; but it is commonly believed were always\nin buccaneering pyratical Times, the hiding Places for their Riches, and\noften Times a Shelter for themselves, till their Friends on the Main, had\nfound Means to obtain Indemnity for their Crimes; for you must understand,\nwhen Acts of Grace were more frequent, and the Laws less severe, these Men\ncontinually found Favours and Incouragers at _Jamaica_, and perhaps they\nare not all dead yet; I have been told many of them them still living have\nbeen of the same Trade, and left it off only because they can live as well\nhonestly, and gain now at the hazard of others Necks.\nSecondly, another Reason why these Seas are chose by Pyrates, is the great\nCommerce thither by _French_, _Spaniards_, _Dutch_, and especially\n_English_ Ships: They are sure in the Latitude of these trading Islands, to\nmeet with Prizes, Booties of Provision, Cloathing, and Naval-Stores, and\nsometimes Money; there being great Sums remitted this Way to _England_;\n(the Returns of the Affiento, and private Slave-Trade, to the _Spanish\nWest-Indies_:) And in short, by some one or other, all the Riches of\n_Potosi_.\nA third Reason, is the Inconveniency and Difficulty of being pursued by the\nMen of War, the many small Inlets, Lagoons and Harbours, on these solitary\nIslands and Keys, is a natural Security.\n'Tis generally here that the Pyrates begin their Enterprizes, setting out\nat first with a very small Force; and by infesting these Seas, and those of\nthe Continent of _North-America_, in a Year's Time, if they have good luck\non their Sides, they accumulate such Strength, as enables them to make\nforeign Expeditions: The first, is usually to _Guiney_, taking the _Azores_\nand _Cape de Verd_ Islands in their Way, and then to _Brazil_ and the\n_East-Indies_, where if they meet with prosperous Voyages, they set down at\n_Madagascar_, or the neighbouring Islands, and enjoy their ill gotten\nWealth, among their elder Brethren, with Impunity. But that I may not give\ntoo much Encouragement to the Profession, I must inform my maritime\nReaders, that the far greater Part of these Rovers are cut short in the\nPursuit, by a sudden Precipitation into the other World.\nThe Rise of these Rovers, since the Peace of _Utrecht_, or at least, the\ngreat Encrease of them, may justly be computed to the _Spanish_ Settlements\nin the _West Indies_; the Governors of which, being often some hungry\nCourtiers, sent thither to repair or make a Fortune, generally Countenance\nall Proceedings that bring in Profit: They grant Commissions to great\nNumbers of Vessels of War, on Pretence of preventing an interloping Trade,\nwith Orders to seize all Ships or Vessels whatsoever, within five Leagues\nof their Coasts, which our _English_ Ships cannot well avoid coming, in\ntheir Voyage to _Jamaica_. But if the _Spanish_ Captains chance to exceed\nthis Commission, and rob and plunder at Discretion, the Sufferers are\nallowed to complain, and exhibit a Process in their Court, and after great\nExpence of Suit, Delay of Time, and other Inconveniencies, obtain a Decree\nin their Favour, but then when the Ship and Cargo comes to be claim'd, with\nCosts of Suit, they find, to their Sorrow, that it has been previously\ncondemn'd, and the Plunder divided among the Crew; the Commander that made\nthe Capture, who alone is responsible, is found to be a poor raskally\nFellow, not worth a Groat, and, no doubt, is plac'd in that Station for the\nlike Purposes.\nThe frequent Losses sustain'd by our Merchants abroad, by these Pyrates,\nwas Provocation enough to attempt something by way of Reprisal; and a fair\nOpportunity offering it self in the Year 1716, the Traders of the\n_West-Indies_, took Care not to slip it over, but made the best Use of it\ntheir Circumstances would permit.\nIt was about two Years before, that the _Spanish_ Galleons, or Plate Fleet,\nhad been cast away in the Gulf or _Florida_; and several Vessels from the\n_Havana_, were at work, with diving Engines, to fish up the Silver that was\non board the Galleons.\nThe _Spaniards_ had recovered some Millions of Pieces of Eight, and had\ncarried it all to the _Havana_; but they had at present about 350000 Pieces\nof Eight in Silver, then upon the Spot, and were daily taking up more. In\nthe mean time, two Ships, and three Sloops, fitted out from _Jamaica_,\n_Barbadoes_, _&c._ under Captain _Henry Jennings_, sail'd to the Gulf, and\nfound the _Spaniards_ there upon the Wreck; the Money before spoken of, was\nleft on Shore, deposited in a Store-House, under the Government of two\nCommissaries, and a Guard of about 60 Soldiers.\nThe Rovers came directly upon the Place, bringing their little Fleet to an\nAnchor, and, in a Word, landing 300 Men, they attack'd the Guard, who\nimmediately ran away; and thus they seized the Treasure, which they carried\noff, making the best of their Way to _Jamaica_.\nIn their Way they unhappily met with a _Spanish_ Ship, bound from _Porto\nBello_ to the _Havana_, with a great many rich Goods, _viz._ Bales of\nCochineal, Casks of Indico, and 60000 Pieces of Eight more, which their\nHands being in, they took, and having rifled the Vessel, let her go.\nThey went away to _Jamaica_ with their Booty, and were followed in View of\nthe Port, by the _Spaniards_, who having seen them thither, went back to\nthe Governor of the _Havana_, with the Account of it, who immediately sent\na Vessel to the Governor of _Jamaica_ to complain of this Robbery, and to\nreclaim the Goods.\nAs it was in full Peace, and contrary to all Justice and Right, that this\nFact was committed, they were soon made sensible that the Government at\n_Jamaica_ would not suffer them to go unpunished, much less protect them.\nTherefore they saw a Necessity of shifting for themselves; so, to make bad\nworse, they went to Sea again, tho' not without disposing of their Cargo to\ngood Advantage, and furnishing themselves with Ammunition, Provisions,\n_&c._ and being thus made desperate, they turn'd Pyrates, robbing not the\n_Spaniards_ only, but their own Countrymen, and any Nation they could lay\ntheir Hands on.\nIt happened about this Time, that the _Spaniards_, with three or four small\nMen of War, fell upon our Logwood Cutters, in the Bay of _Campeachy_, and\nBay or _Honduras_; and after they had made Prizes of the following Ships\nand Vessels, they gave the Men belonging to them, three Sloops to carry\nthem home, but these Men being made desperate by their Misfortunes, and\nmeeting with the Pyrates, they took on with them, and so encreas'd their\nNumber.\n_The LIST of Ships and Vessels taken by the_ Spanish _Men of War in\nthe Year_ 1716.\nThe _Stafford_, Captain _Knocks_, from _New-England_, bound for _London_.\n   _Anne_, ------ _Gernish_, for ditto.\n   _Dove_, ------ _Grimstone_, for _New-England_.\nA Sloop, ------ _Alden_, for ditto.\nA Brigantine, ------ _Mosson_, for ditto.\nA Brigantine, ------ _Turfield_, for ditto.\nA Brigantine, ------ _Tennis_, for ditto.\nA Ship, ------ ------ _Porter_, for ditto.\n   _Indian Emperor_, _Wentworth_, for _New-England_.\nA Ship, ------ _Rich_, Master.\n   Ditto, ------ _Smith_.\n   Ditto, ------ _Stockum_.\n   Ditto, ------ _Satlely_.\nA Sloop, ------ ------ _Richards_, belonging to _New-England_.\nTwo Sloops, ------ ------ belonging to _Jamaica_.\nOne Sloop ------ ------ of _Barbadoes_.\nTwo Ships ------ ------ from _Scotland_.\nTwo Ships ------ ------ from _Holland_.\nThe Rovers being now pretty strong, they consulted together about getting\nsome Place of Retreat, where they might lodge their Wealth, clean and\nrepair their Ships, and make themselves a kind of Abode. They were not long\nin resolving, but fixed upon the Island of _Providence_, the most\nconsiderable of the _Bahama_ Islands, lying in the Latitude of about 24\nDegrees North, and to the Eastward of the _Spanish Florida_.\nThis Island is about 28 Miles long, and eleven where broadest, and has a\nHarbour big enough to hold 500 Sail of Ships; before which lies a small\nIsland, which makes two Inlets to the Harbour; at either Way there is a\nBar, over which no Ship of 500 Tun can pass. The _Bahama_ Islands were\npossess'd by the _English_ till the Year 1700, when the _French_ and\n_Spaniards_ from _Petit Guavus_, invaded them, took the Fort and Governor\nin the Island of _Providence_, plunder'd and destroy'd the Settlements,\n_&c._ carried off half the Blacks, and the rest of the People, who fled to\nthe Woods, retired afterwards to _Carolina_.\nIn March 1705-6, the House of Lords did in an Address to her late Majesty,\nset forth,\n   `That the\n   _French_ and _Spaniards_ had twice, during the Time\n   of the War, over run and plundered the _Bahama_\n   Islands, that there was no Form of Government\n   there: That the Harbour of the Isle of _Providence_,\n   might be easily put in a Posture of Defence, and\n   that it would be of dangerous Consequence, should\n   those Islands fall into the Hands of the Enemy;\n   wherefore the Lords humbly besought her Majesty\n   to use such Methods as she should think\n   proper for taking the said Island into her Hands,\n   in order to secure the same to the Crown of this\n   Kingdom, and to the Security and Advantage\n   of the Trade thereof.\nBut, however it happened, no Means were used in compliance to that Address,\nfor securing the _Bahama_ Islands, till the _English_ Pyrates had made\n_Providence_ their Retreat and general Receptacle; then 'twas found\nabsolutely necessary, in order to dislodge that troublesome Colony; and\nInformation being made by the Merchants to the Government, of the Mischief\nthey did, and were likely to do, his Majesty was pleased to grant the\nfollowing Order.\n_Whitehall September_ 15, 1716.\n   `COmplaint having been made to his Majesty,\n   by great Number of Merchants, Masters of\n   Ships and others, as well as by several Governors\n   of his Majesty's Islands and Plantations in the\n   _West-Indies_; that the Pyrates are grown so numerous,\n   that they infest not only the Seas near _Jamaica_,\n   but even those of the Northern Continent\n   of _America_; and that, unless some effectual Means\n   be used, the whole Trade from _Great Britain_ to\n   those Parts, will not be only obstructed, but in\n   imminent Danger of being lost: His Majesty has,\n   upon mature Deliberation in Council, been pleased,\n   in the first Place, to order a proper Force\n   to be employ'd for the suppressing the said Pyrates,\n   which Force so to be employed, is as\n   follows.\n`A List of his Majesty's Ships and Vessels employed, and to be\nemployed, at the British Governments and Plantations in the _West-Indies_.\nPlace where.      Rates,   Ships,      Guns.\n                 {       Diamond,       40 { Sail'd from hence thither\n                 {       Ludlow Castle, 40   To carry the Governor.\nJamaica,         {       Swift Sloop,        Now there.\n                 {  6    Winchelsea,    20 { at Jamaica, is to join\nBarbadoes,          5    Scarborough,   30 }\nLeeward Islands,    6    Seaford,          } Now there.\nVirginia,        {  5    Shoreham,      30   Order'd Home.\nNew-York,           6    Phoenix,       30   Now there.\nNew-England,     {       Rose,          20   Order'd Home.\n   `Those at _Jamaica_, _Barbadoes_ and the Leeward\n   Islands, are to join upon Occasion, for annoying\n   the Pyrates, and the Security of the Trade: And\n   those at _New-England_, _Virginia_ and _New-York_, are\n   to do the like.\nBesides these Frigots, two Men of War were ordered to attend Captain\n_Rogers_, late Commander of the two _Bristol_ Ships, called the _Duke_ and\n_Dutchess_, that took the rich _Acapulca_ Ship, and made a Tour round the\nGlobe. This Gentleman received a Commission from his Majesty, to be\nGovernor of the Island of _Providence_, and was vested with Power to make\nUse of all possible Methods for reducing the Pyrates; and that nothing\nmight be wanting, he carried with him, the King's Proclamation of Pardon,\nto those who should return to their Duty by a certain Time; the\nProclamation is as follows;\nBy the KING,\nA PROCLAMATION, for suppressing of PYRATES.\n      GEORGE R.\nW_Hereas we have received Information, that several Persons, Subjects\nof _Great Britain_, have since the _24_th Day of _June_, in the Year of our\nLord _1715_, committed divers Pyracies and Robberies upon the High-Seas, in\nthe _West-Indies_, or adjoyning to our Plantations, which hath and may\nOccasion great Damage to the Merchants of _Great Britain_, and others\ntrading into those Parts; and tho' we have appointed such a Force as we\njudge sufficient for suppressing the said Pyrates, yet the more effectually\nto put an End to the same, we have thought fit, by and with the Advice of\nour Privy Council, to Issue this our Royal Proclamation; and we do hereby\npromise, and declare, that in Case any of the said Pyrates, shall on or\nbefore the _5_th of _September_, in the Year of our Lord _1718_, surrender\nhim or themselves, to one of our Principal Secretaries of State in _Great\nBritain_ or _Ireland_, or to any Governor or Deputy Governor of any of our\nPlantations beyond the Seas; every such Pyrate and Pyrates so surrendering\nhim, or themselves, as aforesaid, shall have our gracious Pardon, of and\nfor such, his or their Pyracy, or Pyracies, by him or them committed before\nthe fifth of _January_ next ensuing. And we do hereby strictly charge and\ncommand all our Admirals, Captains, and other Officers at Sea, and all our\nGovernors and Commanders of any Forts, Castles, or other Places in our\nPlantations, and all other our Officers Civil and Military, to seize and\ntake such of the Pyrates, who shall refuse or neglect to surrender\nthemselves accordingly. And we do hereby further declare, that in Case any\nPerson or Persons, on, or after, the _6_th Day of _September 1718_, shall\ndiscover or seize, or cause or procure to be discovered or seized, any one\nor more of the said Pyrates, so refusing or neglecting to surrender\nthemselves as aforesaid, so as they may be brought to Justice, and\nconvicted of the said Offence, such Person or Persons, so making such\nDiscovery or Seizure, or causing or procuring such Discovery or Seizure to\nbe made, shall have and receive as a Reward for the same, _viz._ for every\nCommander of any private Ship or Vessel, the Sum of _100_ l. for every\nLieutenant, Master, Boatswain, Carpenter, and Gunner, the Sum of _40_ l;\nfor every inferior Officer, the Sum of _30_ l. and for every private Man,\nthe Sum of _20_ l. And if any Person or Persons, belonging to and being\nPart of the Crew of any such Pyrate Ship or Vessel, shall on or after the\nsaid sixth Day of _September 1718_, seize and deliver, or cause to be\nseized or delivered, any Commander or Commanders, of such Pyrate Ship or\nVessel, so as that he or they be brought to Justice, and convicted of the\nsaid Offence, such Person or Persons, as a Reward for the same, shall\nreceive for every such Commander, the Sum of _200_ l. which said Sums, the\nLord Treasurer, or the Commissioners of our Treasury for the Time being,\nare hereby required, and desired to pay accordingly._\nGiven at our Court, at _Hampton-Court_, the fifth Day of\n_September_, 1717, in the fourth Year of our Regin.\nGod save the KING.\nBefore Governor _Rogers_ went over, the Proclamation was sent to them,\nwhich they took as _Teague_ took the Covenant, that is, they made Prize of\nthe Ship and Proclamation too; however, they sent for those who were out a\nCruising, and called a general Council, but there was so much Noise and\nGlamour, that nothing could be agreed on; some were for fortifying the\nIsland, to stand upon their own Terms, and Treating with the Government\nupon the Foot of a Commonwealth; others were also for strengthening the\nIsland for their own Security, but were not strenuous for these\nPunctillios, so that they might have a general Pardon, without being\nobliged to make any Restitution, and to retire, with all their Effects, to\nthe neighbouring _British_ Plantations.\nBut Captain _Jennings_, who was their Commadore, and who always bore a\ngreat Sway among them, being a Man of good Understanding, and good Estate,\nbefore this Whim took him of going a Pyrating, resolved upon surrendering,\nwithout more ado, to the Terms of the Proclamation, which so disconcerted\nall their Measures, that the _Congress_ broke up very abruptly without\ndoing any Thing; and presently _Jennings_, and by his Example, about 150\nmore, came in to the Governor of _Bermudas_, and had their Certificates,\ntho' the greatest Part of them returned again, like the Dog to the Vomit.\nThe Commanders who were then in the Island, besides Captain _Jennings_\nabovementioned, I think were these, _Benjamin Hornigold, Edward Teach, John\nMartel, James Fife, Christopher Winter, Nicholas Brown, Paul Williams,\nCharles Bellamy, Oliver la Bouche, _Major_ Penner, Ed. England, T. Burgess,\nTho. Cocklyn, R. Sample, Charles Vane_, and two or three others:\n_Hornigold, Williams, Burgess _and_ la Bouche_ were afterwards cast away;\n_Teach_ and _Penner_ killed, and their Crews taken; _James Fife_ killed by\nhis own Men; _Martel_'s Crew destroyed, and he forced on an uninhabited\nIsland; _Cocklyn, Sample_ and _Vane_ hanged; _Winter_ and _Brown_\nsurrendered to the _Spaniards_ at _Cuba_, and _England_ lives now at\n_Madagascar_.\nIn the Month of _May_ or _June_ 1718, Captain _Rogers_ arrived at his\nGovernment, with two of his Majesty's Ships, and found several of the\nabovesaid Pyrates there, who upon the coming of the Men of War, all\nsurrendered to the Pardon, except _Charles Vane_ and his Crew, which\nhappened after this Manner.\nI have before described the Harbour to have two Inlets, by Means of a small\nIsland lying at the Mouth of it; at one of which, both the Men of War\nentered, and left the other open, so that _Vane_ slip'd his Cable, set Fire\nto a large Prize they had there, and resolutely put out, firing at the Man\nof War as he went off.\nAs soon as Captain _Rogers_ had settled himself in his Government, he built\na Fort for his Defence, and garrisoned it with the People he found upon the\nIsland; the _quondam_ Pyrates, to the Number of 400, he formed into\nCompanies, appointed Officers of those whom he most confided in, and then\nset about to settle a Trade with the _Spaniards_, in the Gulf of _Mexico_;\nin one of which Voyages, Captain _Burgess_ abovementioned, died, and\nCaptain _Hornigold_, another of the famous Pyrates, was cast away upon\nRocks, a great Way from Land, and perished, but five of his Men got into a\nCanoe and were saved.\nCaptain _Rogers_ sent out a Sloop to get Provisions, and gave the Command\nto one _John Augur_, one of the Pyrates, who had accepted of the Act of\nGrace; in their Voyage they met with two Sloops, and _John_ and his\nComrades not yet forgetting their former Business, made Use of their old\nFreedom, and took out of them in Money and Goods, to the Value of about 500\n_l._ after this they steered away for _Hispaniola_, not being satisfy'd\nwhether the Governor would admit them to carry on two Trades at once, and\nso thought to have bidden Farewel to the _Bahama_ Islands; but as ill Luck\nwould have it, they met with a violent Turnado, wherein they lost their\nMast, and were drove back to one of the uninhabited _Bahama_'s, and lost\ntheir Sloop; the Men got all ashore, and lived up and down in the Wood, for\na little Time, till Governor _Rogers_ happening to hear of their\nExpedition, and where they had got to, sent out an armed Sloop to the\naforesaid Island; the Master of which, with good Words and fair Promises,\ngot them on Board, and brought them all to _Providence_, being a eleven\nPersons, ten of which were try'd at a Court of Admiralty, convicted, and\nhanged by the other's Evidence, in the Sight of all their former Companions\nand fellow Thieves. The Criminals would fain have spirited up the pardoned\nPyrates, to rescue them out of the Hands of the Officers of Justice,\ntelling them from the Gallows, that, _They never thought to have seen the\nTime, when ten such Men as they should be ty'd up and hanged like Dogs, and\nfour hundered of their sworn Friends and Companions quietly standing by to\nbehold the Spectacle._ One _Hamphrey Morrice_ urged the Matter further than\nthe rest, taxing them with Pusilanimity and Cowardice, as if it were a\nBreach of Honour in them not to rise and save them from the ignominious\nDeath they were going to suffer. But 'twas all in vain, they were now told,\nit was their Business to turn their Minds to another World, and sincerely\nto repent of what Wickedness they had done in this. _Yes_, answered one of\nthem, _I do heartily repent; I repent I had not done more Mischief, and\nthat we did not cut the Throats of them that took us, and I am extremely\nsorry that you an't all hang'd as well as we. So do I_, says another: _And\nI_, says a third; and then they were all turned off, without making any\nother dying Speeches, except one _Dennis Macarty_, who told the People,\n_That some Friends of his had often said he should die in his Shoes, but\nthat he would make them Lyars_, and so kicked them off. And thus ended the\nLives, with their Adventures, of those miserable Wretches, who may serve as\nsad Examples of the little Effect Mercy has upon Men once abandoned to an\nevil Course of Life.\nLeast I be thought severe in my Animadversions upon the _Spanish_\nProceedings in the _West-Indies_, in respect to their Dealings with us; I\nshall mention an Instance or two, wherein I'll be as concise as possible,\nand then transcribe some original Letters from the Governor of _Jamaica_,\nand an Officer of a Man of War, to the _Alcaldees_ of _Trinidado_, on the\nIsland of _Cuba_, with their Answers, translated into _English_, and then\nproceed to the particular Histories of the Pyrates and their Crews, that\nhave made most Noise in the World in _our own Times_.\nAbout _March_ 1722, one of our Men of War trading upon the Coast, _viz._\nthe _Greyhound_ Galley, Captain _Walron_, the said Captain invited some of\nthe Merchants to Dinner, who with their Attendants and Friends came on\nBoard to the Number of 16 or 18 in all; and having concerted Measures,\nabout six or eight dined in the Cabin, and the rest were waiting on the\nDeck. While the Captain and his Guests were at Dinner, the Boatswain Pipes\nfor the Ship's Company to dine; accordingly the Men take their Platters,\nreceive their Provisions, and down they go between Decks, leaving only 4 or\n5 Hands besides the _Spaniards_, above, who were immediately dispatched by\nthem, and the Hatches laid on the rest; those in the Cabin were as ready as\ntheir Companions, for they pulled out their Pistols and shot the Captain,\nSurgeon and another dead, and grievously wounded the Lieutenant; but he\ngetting out of the Window upon a Side-Ladder, thereby saved his Life, and\nso they made themselves Masters of the Ship in an Instant: But by\naccidental good Fortune, she was recovered before she was carry'd off; for\nCaptain _Walron_ having mann'd a Sloop with 30 Hands out of his Ship's\nCompany, had sent her to Windward some Days before, also for Trade, which\nthe _Spaniards_ knew very well; and just as the Action was over they saw\nthis Sloop coming down, before the Wind, towards their Ship; upon which the\n_Spaniards_ took about 10000 _l._ in Specie, as I am informed, quitted the\nShip, and went off in their Launch unmolested.\nAbout the same Time, a _Guard le Coast_, of _Porto Rico_, commanded by one\n_Matthew Luke_, an Italian, took four _English_ Vessels, and murthered all\nthe Crews: He was taken by the _Lanceston_ Man of War, in _May_ 1722, and\nbrought to _Jamaica_, were they were all but seven deservedly hanged. It is\nlikely the Man of War might not have meddled with her, but that she blindly\nlaid the _Lanceston_ on Board, thinking she had been a Merchant Ship, who\nthereupon catched a Tartar. Afterwards in rummaging there was found a\nCartridge of Powder made up with a Piece of an _English_ Journal,\nbelonging, I believe, to the _Crean_ Snow; and upon Examination, at last,\nit was discovered that they had taken this Vessel and murthered the Crew;\nand one of the _Spaniards_, when he came to die, confessed that he had\nkilled twenty _English_ Men with his own Hands.\nS. Jago de la Vega, Febr. 20. _A Letter from his Excellency Sir\n_Nicolas Laws_, our Governor, to the Alcaldes of _Trinidado_ on _Cuba_,\ndated the _26_th of _Jan. 1721-2.\n      Gentlemen,\n   `THE frequent Depredations, Robberies, and\n   other Acts of Hostility, which have been\n   committed on the King my Royal Master's Subjects,\n   by a Parcel of Banditti, who pretend to\n   have Commissions from you, and in Reality are\n   sheltered under your Government, is the Occasion\n   of my sending the Bearer Captain _Chamberlain_,\n   Commander of his Majesty's Snow _Happy_,\n   to demand Satisfaction of you for so many notorious\n   Robberies which your People have lately\n   committed on the King's Subjects of this Island;\n   particularly by those Traytors, _Nicolas Brown_\n   and _Christopher Winter_, to whom you have given\n   Protection. Such Proceedings as these are not\n   only a Breach of the Law of Nations, but must\n   appear to the World of a very extraordinary\n   Nature, when considered that the Subjects of a\n   Prince in Amity and Friendship with another,\n   should give Countenance and encourage such vile\n   Practices. I confess I have had long Patience, and\n   declined using any violent Measures to obtain\n   Satisfaction, hoping the Cessation of Arms, so\n   happily concluded upon between our respective\n   Sovereigns, would have put an effectual Stop to\n   those Disorders; but on the contrary, I now find\n   the Port of _Trinidado_ a Receptacle to Villains\n   of all Nations. I do therefore think fit to acquaint\n   you, and assure you in the King my Master's\n   Name, that if I do meet with any of your\n   Rogues for the future upon the Coast of this\n   Island, I will order them to be hanged directly\n   without Mercy; and I expect and demand of\n   you to make ample Restitution to Captain _Chamberlain_\n   or all the Negroes which the said _Brown_\n   and Winter have lately taken off from the North-Side\n   of this Island, and also of such Sloops and\n   other Effects as they have been taken and robbed\n   of, since the Cessation of Arms, and that you\n   will deliver up to the Bearer such _English_ Men\n   as are now detained, or otherwise remain at _Trinidado_;\n   and also expect you will hereafter forbear\n   granting any Commissions, or suffer any such\n   notorious Villains to be equipp'd and fitted out\n   from your Port: otherwise you may depend upon\n   it, those that I can meet with, shall be esteemed\n   Pyrates, and treated as such; of which I thought\n   proper to give you Notice, and am, _&c._\n_A Letter from Mr. _Joseph Laws_, Lieutenant of his Majesty's Ship,\n_Happy_ Snow, to the Alcaldes of _Trinidado_._\n      Genlemen,\n   `I Am sent by Commadore _Vernon_, Commander\n   in Chief of all his Majesty's Ships in the\n   _West-Indies_ to demand in the King our Master's\n   Name, all the Vessels, with theirs Effects, _&c._\n   and also the Negroes taken from _Jamaica_ since the\n   Cessation of Arms; likewise all _Englishmen_ now\n   detained, or otherwise remaining in your Port of\n   _Trinidado_, particularly _Nicholas Brown_ and _Christopher\n   Winter_, both of them being Traytors, Pyrates\n   and common Enemies to all Nations: And\n   the said Commadore hath ordered me to acquaint\n   you, that he is surprized that the Subjects of a\n   Prince in Amity and Friendship with another,\n   should give Countenance to such notorious Villains.\n   In Expectation of your immediate Compliance,\n   I am, Gentlemen,\nOff the River _Trinidado_, _Feb._ 8. 1720.\nYour humble Servant, _Joseph Laws_.\n_The Answer of the Alcaldes of _Trinidado_, to Mr. _Laws_'s Letter._\n      Capt. Laws,\n   `IN Answer to yours, this serves to acquaint\n   you, that neither in this City, nor Port, are\n   there any Negroes or Vessels which have been taken\n   at your Island of _Jamaica_, nor on that Coast,\n   since the Cessation of Arms; and what Vessels\n   have been taken since that Time, have been for\n   trading in an unlawful Commerce on this Coast;\n   and as for those English Fugitives you mention,\n   they are here as other Subjects of our Lord the\n   King, being brought voluntarily to our holy Catholick\n   Faith, and have received the Water of\n   Baptism; but if they should prove Rogues, and\n   should not comply with their Duty, in which\n   they are bound at present, then they shall be\n   chastized according to the Ordinances of our\n   King, whom God preserve. And we beg you will\n   weigh Anchor as soon as possible, and leave this\n   Port and its Coasts, because upon no Account you\n   shall be suffered to trade, or any Thing else; for\n   we are resolved not to admit thereof. God preserve\n   you. We kiss your Hand.\n_Trinidado_, _Feb._ 8, 1722.\nSigned, _Hieronimo de Fuentes, Benette Alfonso del Manzano_.\n_Mr. _Laws_'s Reply to the Alcaldes Letter._\n      Gentlemen,\n   `YOUR refusing to deliver up the Subjects of\n   the King my Master, is somewhat surprizing,\n   it being in a Time of Peace, and the detaining\n   them consequently against the Law of Nations.\n   Notwithstanding your trifling Pretence\n   (for which you have no Foundation but to forge an\n   Excuse) to prevent my making any Enquiry into\n   the Truth of the Facts I have alledged in my\n   former, I must tell you my Resolutions are, to\n   stay on the Coast till I have made Reprizals; and\n   should I meet any Vessels belonging to your Port,\n   I shall not treat them as the Subjects of the Crown\n   of Spain, but as Pyrates, finding it a Part of your\n   Religion in this Place to protect such Villains.\nOff the River _Trinidado_, _Feb._ 8. 1720.\nYour humble Servant, _Joseph Laws_.\n_The Answer of one of the Alcaldes to Mr. _Laws_'s Reply_.\n      Captain Laws,\n   `YOU may assure your self, I will never be\n   wanting in the Duty of my Post. The\n   Prisoners that are here are not in Prison, but\n   only kept here to be sent to the Governor of the\n   _Havana_: If you (as you say) command at Sea, I\n   command on Shoar: If you treat the _Spaniards_,\n   you should happen to take, as Pyrates, I will do\n   the same by every one of your People I can\n   take up: I will not be wanting to good Manners,\n   if you will do the same. I can likewise act the\n   Soldier, if any Occasion should offer that way,\n   for I have very good People here for that purpose.\n   If you pretend any Thing else, you may execute\n   it on this Coast. God preserve you. I kiss your\n   Hand.\n_Trinidado_, _Feb._ 20. 1720.\nSigned, _Bennette Alfonso del Menzano_.\nThe last Advices we have received from our Plantations in _America_, dated\n_June_ 9th, 1724, gives us the following Account, _viz._ That Captain\n_Jones_ in the Ship _John_ and _Mary_, on the 5th of the said Month, met\nwith, near the Capes of _Virginia_, a _Spanish Guard del Coast_, commanded\nby one _Don Benito_, said to be commissioned by the Governor of _Cuba_: She\nwas manned with 60 _Spaniards_, 18 _French_ Men and 18 _English_, and had\nan _English_ Captain as well as _Spanish_, one _Richard Holland_, who\nformerly belonged to the _Suffolk_ Man of War, which he deserted at\n_Naples_, and took Shelter in a Convent. He served on Board the _Spanish_\nFleet under Admiral _Cammock_, in the War in the _Mediterranean_; and after\nthe Cessation of Arms with Spain, settled with several of his Countrymen\n(_Irish_) in the _Spanish_ _West-Indies_. This _Guard del Coast_ made Prize\nof Captain _Jones_'s Ship, and kept Possession of her from 5th to the 8th,\nduring which Time she took also the _Prudent Hannah_ of _Boston_, _Thomas\nMousell_ Master, and the _Dolphin_ of _Topsham_, _Theodore Bare_ Master,\nboth laden and bound for _Virginia_: The former they sent away together\nwith three Men and the Mate, under the Command of a _Spanish_ Officer and\nCrew, the same Day she was taken; the latter they carried off with them,\nputting the Master and all the Crew aboard Captain _Jones_'s Ship. They\nplundered Captain _Jones_ of thirty six Men Slaves, some Gold-Dust, all his\nCloaths, four great Guns and small Arms, and about four hundred Gallons of\nRum, besides his Provisions and Stores, computed in all to 1500 _l._\nSterling.\nCHAP. I. OF Captain _AVERY_, And his CREW.\nNONE of these bold Adventurers were ever so much talked of, for a\nwhile, as _Avery_; he made as great a Noise in the World as _Meriveis_ does\nnow, and was looked upon to be a Person of as great Consequence; he was\nrepresented in _Europe_, as one that had raised himself to the Dignity of a\nKing, and was likely to be the Founder of a new Monarchy; having, as it was\nsaid, taken immense Riches, and married the Great _Mogul_'s Daughter, who\nwas taken in an _Indian_ Ship, which fell into his Hands; and that he had\nby her many Children, living in great Royalty and State; that he had built\nForts, erected Magazines, and was Master of a stout Squadron of Ships,\nmann'd with able and desperate Fellows of all Nations; that he gave\nCommissions out in his own Name to the Captains of his Ships, and to the\nCommanders of his Forts, and was acknowledged by them as their Prince. A\nPlay was writ upon him, called, the _Successful Pyrate_; and, these\nAccounts obtained such Belief, that several Schemes were offered to the\nCouncil for fitting out a Squadron to take him; while others were for\noffering him and his Companions an Act of Grace, and inviting them to\n_England_, with all their Treasure, least his growing Greatness might\nhinder the Trade of _Europe_ to the _East-Indies_.\nYet all these were no more than false Rumours, improved by the Credulity of\nsome, and the Humour of others who love to tell strange Things; for, while\nit was said, he was aspiring at a Crown, he wanted a Shilling; and at the\nsame Time it was given out he was in Possession of such prodigious Wealth\nin _Madagascar_, he was starving in _England_.\nNo doubt, but the Reader will have a Curiosity of knowing what became of\nthis Man, and what were the true Grounds of so many false Reports\nconcerning him; there fore, I shall, in as brief a Manner as I can, give\nhis History.\nHe was born in the West of _England_ near _Plymouth_ in _Devonshire_, being\nbred to the Sea, he served as a Mate of a Merchant-Man, in several trading\nVoyages: It happened before the Peace of _Ryfwick_, when there was an\nAlliance betwixt _Spain_, _England_, _Holland_, _&c._ against _France_,\nthat the _French_ in _Martinico_, carried on a smugling Trade with the\n_Spaniards_ on the Continent of _Peru_, which by the Laws of _Spain_, is\nnot allowed to Friends in Time of Peace, for none but native _Spaniards_\nare permitted to Traffick in those Parts, or set their Feet on Shore,\nunless at any Time they are brought as Prisoners; wherefore they constantly\nkeep certain Ships cruising along the Coast, whom they call _Guarda del\nCosta_, who have the Orders to make Prizes of all ships they can light of\nwithin five Leagues of Land. Now the _French_ growing very bold in Trade,\nand the _Spaniards_ being poorly provided with Ships, and those they had\nbeing of no Force, it often fell out, that when they light of the _French_\nSmuglers, they were not strong enough to attack them, therefore it was\nresolv'd in _Spain_, to hire two or three stout foreign Ships for their\nService, which being known at _Bristol_, some Merchants of that City,\nfitted out two Ships of thirty odd Guns, and 120 Hands each, well furnished\nwith Provision and Ammunition, and all other Stores; and the Hire being\nagreed for, by some Agents for _Spain_, they were commanded to sail for\n_Corunna_ or the _Groine_, there to receive their Orders, and to take on\nBoard some _Spanish_ Gentlemen, who were to go Passengers to _New-Spain_.\nOf one of these Ships, which I take to be call'd the _Duke_, Capt. _Gibson_\nCommander, _Avery_ was first Mate, and being a Fellow of more Cunning than\nCourage, he insinuated himself into the good Will of several of the boldest\nFellows on Board the other Ship, as well as that which he was on Board of;\nhaving sounded their Inclinations before he opened himself, and finding\nthem ripe for his Design, he, at length, proposed to them, to run away with\nthe Ship, telling them what great Wealth was to be had upon the Coasts of\n_India_. It was no sooner said than agreed to, and they resolved to execute\ntheir Plot at Ten a Clock the Night following.\nIt must be observ'd, the Captain was one of those who are mightily addicted\nto Punch, so that he passed most of his Time on Shore, in some little\ndrinking Ordinary; but this Day he did not go on Shore as usual; however,\nthis did not spoil the Design, for he took his usual Dose on Board, and so\ngot to Bed before the Hour appointed for the Business: The Men also who\nwere not privy to the Design, turn'd into their Hammocks, leaving none upon\nDeck but the Conspirators, who, indeed, were the greatest Part of the\nShip's Crew. At the Time agreed on, the _Dutchess_'s Long-Boat appear'd,\nwhich _Avery_ hailing in the usual Manner, was answered by the Men in her,\n_Is your drunken Boatswain on Board?_ Which was the Watch-Word agreed\nbetween them, and _Avery_ replying in the Affirmative, the Boat came aboard\nwith sixteen stout Fellows, and joined the Company.\nWhen our Gentry saw that all was clear, they secured the Hatches, so went\nto work; they did not slip the Anchor, but weigh'd it leisurely, and so put\nto Sea without any Disorder or Confusion, tho' there were several Ships\nthen lying in the Bay, and among them a _Dutch_ Frigate of forty Guns, the\nCaptain of which was offered a great Reward to go out after her; but\n_Mynheer_, who perhaps would not have been willing to have been served so\nhimself could not be prevail'd upon to give such Usage to another, and so\nlet Mr. _Avery_ pursue his Voyage, whither he had a Mind to.\nThe Captain, who by this Time, was awaked, either by the Motion of the\nShip, or the Noise of working the Tackles, rung the Bell; _Avery_ and two\nothers went into the Cabin; the Captain, half asleep, and in a kind of\nFright, ask'd, _What was the Matter?_ _Avery_ answered cooly, _Nothing_;\nthe Captain replied, _something's the Matter with the Ship, Does she drive?\nWhat Weather is it?_ Thinking nothing less then that it had been a Storm,\nand that the Ship was driven from her Anchors: _No, no_, answered _Avery_,\n_we're at Sea, with a fair Wind and good Weather. At Sea! _says the\nCaptain, _How can that be? Come_, says _Avery, don't be in a Fright, but\nput on your Cloaths, and I'll let you into a Secret: -- You muse know, that\nI am Captain of this Ship now, and this is my Cabin, therefore you must\nwalk out; I am bound to _Madagascar_, with a Design of making my own\nFortune, and that of all the brave Fellows joined with me._\nThe Captain having a little recovered his Senses, began to apprehend the\nmeaning; however, his Fright was as great as before, which _Avery_\nperceiving, bad him fear nothing, for, says he, if you have a Mind to make\none of us, we will receive you, and if you'll turn sober, and mind your\nBusiness, perhaps in Time I may make you one of my Lieutenants, if not,\nhere's a Boat a-long-side, and you shall be set ashore.\nThe Captain was glad to hear this, and therefore accepted of his Offer, and\nthe whole Crew being called up, to know who was willing to go on Shore with\nthe Captain, and who to seek their Fortunes with the rest; there were not\nabove five or six who were willing to quit this Enterprize; wherefore they\nwere put into the Boat with the Captain that Minute, and made their Way to\nthe Shore as well as they could.\nThey proceeded on their Voyage to _Madagascar_, but I do not find they took\nany Ships in their Way; when they arrived at the N. E. Part of that Island,\nthey found two Sloops at Anchor, who, upon seeing them, slip'd their Cables\nand run themselves ashore, the Men all landing, and running into the Woods;\nthese were two Sloops which the Men had run away with from the\n_West-Indies_, and seeing _Avery_, they supposed him to be some Frigate\nsent to take them, and therefore not being of Force to engage him, they did\nwhat they could to save themselves.\nHe guessed where they were, and sent some of his Men on Shore to let them\nknow they were Friends, and to offer they might join together for their\ncommon Safety; the Sloops Men were well arm'd, and had posted themselves in\na Wood, with Centinels just on the out-side, to observe whether the Ship\nlanded her Men to pursue them, and they observing only two or three Men to\ncome towards them without Arms, did not oppose them, but having challenged\nthem, and they answering they were Friends, they lead them to their Body,\nwhere they delivered their Message; at first, they apprehended it was a\nStratagem to decoy them on Board, but when the Ambassadors offered that the\nCaptain himself, and as many of the Crew as they should name, would meet\nthem on Shore without Arms, they believed them to be in Earnest, and they\nsoon entered into a Confidence with one another; those on Board going on\nShore, and some of those on Shore going on Board.\nThe Sloops Men were rejoiced at the new Ally, for their Vessels were so\nsmall, that they could not attack a Ship of any Force, so that hitherto\nthey had not taken any considerable Prize, but now they hop'd to fly at\nhigh Game; and _Avery_ was as well pleased at this Reinforcement, to\nstrengthen them, for any brave Enterprize, and tho' the Booty must be\nlessened to each, by being divided into so many Shares, yet he found out an\nExpedient not to suffer by it himself as shall be shewn in its Place.\nHaving consulted what was to be done, they resolved to sail out together\nupon a Cruize, the Galley and two Sloops; they therefore fell to work to\nget the Sloops off, which they soon effected, and steered towards the\n_Arabian_ Coast; near the River _Indus_, the Man at the Mast-Head spied a\nSail, upon which they gave Chace, and as they came nearer to her, they\nperceived her to be a tall Ship, and fancied she might be a _Dutch\nEast-India_ Man homeward bound; but she proved a better Prize; when they\nfired at her to bring too, she hoisted _Mogul_'s Colours, and seemed to\nstand upon her Defence; _Avery_ only canonaded at a Distance, and some of\nhis Men began to suspect that he was not the Hero they took him for:\nHowever, the Sloops made Use of their Time, and coming one on the Bow, and\nthe other on the Quarter, of the Ship, clapt her on Board, and enter'd her,\nupon which she immediately struck her Colours and yielded; she was one of\nthe _Great Mogul_'s own Ships, and there were in her several of the\ngreatest Persons of his Court, among whom it was said was one of his\nDaughters, who were going on a Pilgrimage to _Mecca_, the _Mahometans_\nthinking themselves obliged once in their Lives to visit that Place, and\nthey were carrying with them rich Offerings to present at the Shrine of\n_Mahomet_. It is known that the Eastern People travel with the utmost\nMagnificence, so that they had with them all their Slaves and Attendants,\ntheir rich Habits and Jewels, with Vessels of Gold and Silver, and great\nSums of Money to defray the Charges of their Journey by Land; wherefore the\nPlunder got by this Prize, is not easily computed.\nHaving taken all the Treasure on Board their own Ships, and plundered their\nPrize of every Thing else they either wanted or liked, they let her go; she\nnot being able to continue her Voyage, returned back: As soon as the News\ncame to the _Mogul_, and he knew that they were _English_ who had robbed\nthem, he threatened loud, and talked of sending a mighty Army with Fire and\nSword, to extirpate the _English_ from all their Settlements on the\n_Indian_ Coast. The _East-India_ Company in _England_, were very much\nalarmed at it; however, by Degrees, they found Means to pacify him, by\npromising to do their Endeavours to take the Robbers, and deliver them into\nhis Hands; however, the great Noise this Thing made in Europe, as well as\n_India_, was the Occasion of all these romantick Stories which were formed\nof _Avery_'s Greatness.\nIn the mean Time our successful Plunderers agreed to make the best of their\nWay back to _Madagascar_, intending to make that Place their Magazine or\nRepository for all their Treasure, and to build a small Fortification\nthere, and leave a few Hands always ashore to look after it, and defend it\nfrom any Attempts of the Natives; but _Avery_ put an End to this Project,\nand made it altogether unnecessary.\nAs they were Steering their Course, as has been said, he sends a Boat on\nBoard of each of the Sloops, desiring the Chief of them to come on Board of\nhim, in order to hold a Council; they did so, and he told them he had\nsomething to propose to them for the common Good, which was to provide\nagainst Accidents; he bad them consider the Treasure they were possess'd\nof, would be sufficient for them all if they could secure it in some Place\non Shore; therefore all they had to fear, was some Misfortune in the\nVoyage; he bad them consider the Consequences of being separated by bad\nWeather, in which Case, the Sloops, if either of them should fall in with\nany Ships of Force, must be either taken or sunk, and the Treasure on Board\nher lost to the rest, besides the common Accidents of the Sea; as for his\nPart he was so strong, he was able to make his Party good with any Ship\nthey were like to meet in those Seas; that if he met with any Ship of such\nStrength, that he could not take her, he was safe from being taken, being\nso well mann'd; besides his Ship was a quick Sailor, and could carry Sail,\nwhen the Sloops could not, wherefore, he proposed to them, to put the\nTreasure on Board his Ship, to seal up each Chest with 3 Seals, whereof\neach was to keep one, and to appoint a Rendezvous, in Case of Separation.\nUpon considering this Proposal, it appeared so seasonable to them, that\nthey readily came into it, for they argued to themselves, that an Accident\nmight happen to one of the Sloops and the other escape, wherefore it was\nfor the common Good. The Thing was done as agreed to, the Treasure put on\nBoard of _Avery_, and the Chests seal'd; they kept Company that Day and the\nnext, the Weather being fair, in which Time _Avery_ tampered with his Men,\ntelling them they now had sufficient, to make them all easy, and what\nshould hinder them from going to some Country, where they were not known,\nand living on Shore all the rest of their Days in Plenty; they understood\nwhat he meant: And in short, they all agreed to bilk their new Allies, the\nSloop's Men, nor do I find that any of them felt any Qualms of Honour\nrising in his Stomach, to hinder them from consenting to this Piece of\nTreachery. In fine, they took Advantage of the Darkness that Night, steer'd\nanother Course, and, by Morning, lost Sight of them.\nI leave the Reader to judge, what Swearing and Confusion there was among\nthe Sloop's Men, in the Morning, when they saw that _Avery_ had given them\nthe Slip; for they knew by the Fairness of the Weather, and the Course they\nhad agreed to steer, that it must have been done on purpose: But we leave\nthem at present to follow Mr. _Avery_.\n_Avery_, and his Men, having consulted what to do with themselves, came to\na Resolution, to make the best of their Way towards _America_; and none of\nthem being known in those Parts, they intended to divide the Treasure, to\nchange their Names, to go ashore, some in one Place, some in other, to\npurchase some Settlements, and live at Ease. The first Land they made, was\nthe Island of _Providence_, then newly settled; here they staid some Time,\nand having considered that when they should go to _New-England_, the\nGreatness of their Ship, would cause much Enquiry about them; and possibly\nsome People from _England_, who had heard the Story of a Ship's being run\naway with from the _Groine_, might suspect them to be the People; they\ntherefore took a Resolution of disposing of their Ship at _Providence_:\nUpon which, _Avery_ pretending that the Ship being fitted out upon the\nprivateering Account, and having had no Success, he had received Orders\nfrom the Owners, to dispose of her to the best Advantage, he soon met with\na Purchaser, and immediately bought a sloop.\nIn this Sloop, he and his Companions embarq'd, they touch'd at several\nParts of _America_, where no Person suspected them; and some of them went\non Shore, and dispersed themselves about the Country, having received such\nDividends as _Avery_ would give them; for he concealed the greatest Part of\nthe Diamonds from them, which in the first Hurry of plundering the Ship,\nthey did not much regard, as not knowing their Value.\nAt length he came to _Boston_, in _New-England_, and seem'd to have a\nDesire of settling in those Parts, and some of his Companions went on Shore\nthere also, but he changed his Resolution, and proposed to the few of his\nCompanions who were left, to sail for _Ireland_, which they consented to:\nHe found out that _New-England_ was not a proper Place for him, because a\ngreat deal of his Wealth lay in Diamonds; and should he have produced them\nthere, he would have certainly been seiz'd on Suspicion of Pyracy.\nIn their Voyage to Ireland, they avoided St. _George_'s Channel, and\nsailing North about, they put into one of the Northern Ports of that\nKingdom; there they disposed of their Sloop, and coming on Shore they\nseparated themselves, some going to _Cork_, and some to _Dublin_, 18 of\nwhom obtain'd their Pardons afterwards of K. _William_. When _Avery_ had\nremain'd some Time in this Kingdom, he was afraid to offer his Diamonds to\nsale, least an Enquiry into his Manner of coming by them should occasion a\nDiscovery; therefore considering with himself what was best to be done, he\nfancied there were some Persons at _Bristol_, whom he might venture to\ntrust; upon which, he resolved to pass over into _England_; he did so, and\ngoing into _Devonshire_, he sent to one of these Friends to meet him at a\nTown called _Biddiford_; when he had communicated himself to his Friends,\nand consulted with him about the Means of his Effects, they agreed, that\nthe safest Method would be, to put them in the Hands of some Merchants, who\nbeing Men of Wealth and Credit in the World, no Enquiry would be made how\nthey came by them; this Friend telling him he was very intimate with some\nwho were very fit for the Purpose, and if he would but allow them a good\nCommission would do the Business very faithfully. _Avery_ liked the\nProposal, for he found no other Way of managing his Affairs, since he could\nnot appear in them himself; therefore his Friend going back to _Bristol_,\nand opening the Matter to the Merchants, they made _Avery_ a Visit at\n_Biddiford_, where, after some Protestations of Honour and Integrity, he\ndelivered them his Effects, consisting of Diamonds and some Vessels of\nGold; they gave him a little Money for his present Subsistance, and so they\nparted.\nHe changed his Name and lived at _Biddiford_, without making any Figure,\nand therefore there was no great Notice taken of him; yet let one or two of\nhis Relations know where he was, who came to see him. In some Time his\nlittle Money was spent, yet he heard nothing from his Merchants; he writ to\nthem often, and after much Importunity they sent him a small Supply, but\nscarce sufficient to pay his Debts: In fine, the Supplies they sent him\nfrom Time to Time, were so small, that they were not sufficient to give him\nBread, nor could he get that little, without a great deal of Trouble and\nImportunity, wherefore being weary of his Life, he went privately to\n_Bristol_, to speak to the Merchants himself, where instead of Money he met\na most shocking Repulse, for when he desired them to come to an Account\nwith him, they silenced him by threatening to discover him, so that our\nMerchants were as good Pyrates at Land as he was at Sea.\nWhether he was frightened by these Menaces, or had seen some Body else he\nthought knew him, is not known; but he went immediately over to _Ireland_,\nand from thence sollicited his Merchants very hard for a Supply, but to no\nPurpose, for he was even reduced to beggary: In this Extremity he was\nresolved to return and cast himself upon them, let the Consequence be what\nit would. He put himself on Board a trading Vessel, and work'd his Passage\nover to _Plymouth_, from whence he travelled on Foot to _Biddiford_, where\nhe had been but a few Days before he fell sick and died; not being worth as\nmuch as would buy him a Coffin.\nThus have I given all that could be collected of any Certainty concerning\nthis Man; rejecting the idle Stories which were made of his fantastick\nGreatness, by which it appears, that his Actions were more inconsiderable\nthan those of other Pyrates, since him, though he made more Noise in the\nWorld.\nNow we shall turn back and give our Readers some Account of what became of\nthe two Sloops.\nWe took Notice of the Rage and Confusion, which must have seized them, upon\ntheir missing of _Avery_; however, they continued their Course, some of\nthem still flattering themselves that he had only out sailed them in the\nNight, and that they should find him at the Place of Rendezvous: But when\nthey came there, and could hear no Tydings of him, there was an End of\nHope. It was Time to consider what they should do with themselves, their\nStock of Sea Provision was almost spent, and tho' there was Rice and Fish,\nand Fowl to be had ashore, yet these would not keep for Sea, without being\nproperly cured with Salt, which they had no Conveniency of doing;\ntherefore, since they could not go a Cruizing any more, it was Time to\nthink of establishing themselves at Land; to which Purpose they took all\nThings out of the Sloops, made Tents of the Sails, and encamped themselves,\nhaving a large Quantity of Ammunition, and abundance of small Arms.\nHere they met with several of their Countrymen, the Crew of a Privateer\nSloop which was commanded by Captain _Thomas Tew_; and since it will be but\na short Digression, we will give an Account how they came here.\nCaptain _George Dew_ and Captain _Thomas Tew_, having received Commissions\nfrom the then Governor of _Bermudas_, to sail directly for the River\n_Gambia_ in _Africa_; there, with the Advice and Assistance of the Agents\nof the Royal _African_ Company, to attempt the taking the _French_ Factory\nat _Goorie_, lying upon that Coast. In a few Days after they sailed out,\n_Dew_ in a violent Storm, not only sprung his Mast, but lost Sight of his\nConsort; _Dew_ therefore returned back to refit, and _Tew_ instead of\nproceeding on his Voyage, made for the _Cape of Good Hope_, and doubling\nthe said Cape, shaped his Course for the Straits of _Babel Mandel_, being\nthe Entrance into the _Red Sea_. Here he came up with a large Ship, richly\nladen, bound from the _Indies_ to _Arabia_, with three hundred Soldiers on\nBoard, besides Seamen; yet _Tew_ had the Hardiness to board her, and soon\ncarried her; and, 'tis said, by this Prize, his Men shared near three\nthousand Pounds a Piece: They had Intelligence from the Prisoners, of five\nother rich Ships to pass that Way, which _Tew_ would have attacked, tho'\nthey were very strong, if he had not been over-ruled by the Quarter-Master\nand others.--This differing in Opinion created some ill Blood amongst them,\nso that they resolved to break up pyrating, and no Place was so fit to\nreceive them as _Madagascar_; hither they steered, resolving to live on\nShore and enjoy what they got.\nAs for _Tew_ himself, he with a few others in a short Time went off to\n_Rhode Island_, from whence he made his Peace.\nThus have we accounted for the Company our Pyrates met with here.\nIt must be observed that the Natives of _Madagascar_ are a kind of Negroes,\nthey differ from those of _Guiney_ in their Hair, which is long, and their\nComplexion is not so good a Jet; they have innumerable little Princes among\nthem, who are continually making War upon one another; their Prisoners are\ntheir Slaves, and they either sell them, or put them to death, as they\nplease: When our Pyrates first settled amongst them, their Alliance was\nmuch courted by these Princes, so they sometimes joined one, sometimes\nanother, but wheresoever they sided, they were sure to be Victorious; for\nthe Negroes here had no Fire-Arms, nor did they understand their Use; so\nthat at length these Pyrates became so terrible to the Negroes, that if two\nor or three of them were only seen on one Side, when they were going to\nengage, the opposite Side would fly without striking a Blow.\nBy these Means they not only became feared, but powerful; all the Prisoners\nof War, they took to be their Slaves; they married the most beautiful of\nthe Negroe Women; not one or two, but as many as they liked; so that every\none of them had as great a Seraglio as the Grand Seignior at\n_Constantinople_: Their Slaves they employed in planting Rice, in Fishing,\nHunting, _&c._ besides which, they had abundance of others, who lived, as\nit were, under their Protection, and to be secure from the Disturbances or\nAttacks of their powerful Neighbours; these seemed to pay them a willing\nHomage. Now they began to divide from one another, each living with his own\nWives, Slaves and Dependants, like a separate Prince; and as Power and\nPlenty naturally beget Contention, they sometimes quarrelled with one\nanother, and attacked each other at the Head of their several Armies; and\nin these civil Wars, many of them were killed; but an Accident happened,\nwhich obliged them to unite again for their common Safety.\nIt must be observed that these sudden great Men, had used their Power like\nTyrants, for they grew wanton in Cruelty, and nothing was more common, than\nupon the slightest Displeasure, to cause one of their Dependants to be tied\nto a Tree and shot thro' the Heart, let the Crime be what it would, whether\nlittle or great, this was always the Punishment; wherefore the Negroes\nconspired together, to rid themselves of these Destroyers, all in one\nNight; and as they now lived separate, the Thing might easily have been\ndone, had not a Woman, who had been Wife or Concubine to one of them, run\nnear twenty Miles in three Hours, to discover the Matter to them:\nImmediately upon the Alarm they ran together as fast as they could, so that\nwhen the Negroes approached them, they found them all up in Arms; wherefore\nthey retired without making any Attempt.\nThis Escape made them very cautious from that Time, and it will be worth\nwhile to describe the Policy of these brutish Fellows, and to shew what\nMeasures they took to secure themselves.\nThey found that the Fear of their Power could not secure them against a\nSurprize, and the bravest Man may be kill'd when he is asleep, by one much\nhis inferior in Courage and Strength, therefore, as their first Security,\nthey did all they could to foment War betwixt the neighbouring Negroes,\nremaining Neuter themselves, by which Means, those who were overcome\nconstantly lied to them for Protection, otherwise they must be either\nkilled or made Slaves. They strengthened their Party, and tied some to them\nby interest; when there was no War, they contrived to spirit up private\nQuarrels among them, and upon every little Dispute or Misunderstanding,\npush on one Side or other to Revenge; instruct them how to attack or\nsurprize their Adversaries, and lend them loaded Pistols or Firelocks to\ndispatch them with; the Consequence of which was, that the Murderer was\nforced to fly to them for the safety of his Life, with his Wives, Children\nand Kindred.\nSuch as these were fast Friends, as their Lives depended upon the safety of\nhis Protectors; for as we observed before, our Pyrates were grown so\nterrible, that none of their Neighbours had Resolution enough to attack\nthem in an open War.\nBy such Arts as these, in the Space of a few Years, their Body was greatly\nincreased, they then began to separate themselves, and remove at a greater\nDistance from one another, for the Convenience of more Ground, and were\ndivided like Jews, into Tribes, each carrying with him his Wives and\nChildren, (of which, by this Time they had a large Family,) as also their\nQuota of Dependants and Followers; and if Power and Command be the Thing\nwhich distinguish a Prince, these Ruffians had all the Marks of Royalty\nabout them, nay more, they had the very Fears which commonly disturb\nTyrants, as may be seen by the extream Caution they took in fortifying the\nPlaces where they dwelt.\nIn this Plan of Fortification they imitated one another, their Dwellings\nwere rather Citadels than Houses; they made Choice of a Place overgrown\nwith Wood, and scituate near a Water; they raised a Rampart or high Ditch\nround it, so strait and high, that it was impossible to climb it, and\nespecially by those who had not the Use of scaling Ladders: Over this Ditch\nthere was one Passage into the Wood; the Dwelling, which was a Hut, was\nbuilt in that Part of the Wood which the Prince, who inhabited it, thought\nfit, but so covered that it could not be seen till you came at it; but the\ngreatest Cunning lay in the Passage which lead to the Hut, which was so\nnarrow, that no more than one Person could go a Breast, and contrived in so\nintricate a Manner, that it was a perfect Maze or Labyrinth, it being round\nand round, with several little cross Ways, so that a Person that was not\nwell acquainted with the Way, might walk several Hours round and cross\nthese Ways without being able to find the Hut; moreover all along the Sides\nof these narrow Paths, certain large Thorns which grew upon a Tree in that\nCountry, were struck into the Ground with their Points uppermost, and the\nPath it self being made crooked and serpentine, if a Man should attempt to\ncome near the Hut at Night, he would certainly have struck upon these\nThorns, tho' he had been provided with that Clue which _Ariadne_ gave to\n_Theseus_ when he entered the Cave of the _Minataur_.\nThus Tyrant like they lived, fearing and feared by all; and in this\nScituation they were found by Captain _Woods Rogers_, when he went to\n_Madagascar_, in the _Delicia_, a Ship of forty Guns, with a Design of\nbuying Slaves in order to sell to the _Dutch_ at _Batavia_ or\n_New-Holland_: He happened to touch upon a Part of the Island, where no\nShip had been seen for seven or eight Years before, where he met with some\nof the Pyrates, at which Time, they had been upon the Island above 25\nYears, having a large motly Generation of Children and Grand-Children\ndescended from them, there being about that Time, eleven of them remaining\nalive.\nUpon their first seeing a Ship of this Force and Burthen, they supposed it\nto be a Man of War sent to take them; they therefore lurked within their\nFastnesses, but when some from the Ship came on Shore, without any shew of\nHostility, and offering to trade with the Negroes, they ventured to come\nout of their Holes, attended like Princes; and since they actually are\nKings _De Facto_, which is a kind of a Right, we ought to speak of them as\nsuch.\nHaving been so many Years upon this Island, it may be imagined, their\nCloaths had long been worn out, so that their Majesties were extreamly out\nat the Elbows; I cannot say they were ragged, since they had no Cloaths,\nthey had nothing to cover them but the Skins of Beasts without any tanning,\nbut with all the Hair on, nor a Shoe nor Stocking, so they looked like the\nPictures of _Hercules_ in the Lion's Skin; and being overgrown with Beard,\nand Hair upon their Bodies, they appeared the most savage Figures that a\nMan's Imagination can frame.\nHowever, they soon got rigg'd, for they sold great Numbers of those poor\nPeople under them, for Cloaths, Knives, Saws, Powder and Ball, and many\nother Things, and became so familiar that they went aboard the _Delicia_,\nand were observed to be very curious, examining the inside of the Ship, and\nvery familiar with the Men, inviting them ashore. Their Design in doing\nthis, as they afterwards confessed, was to try if it was not practicable to\nsurprize the Ship in the Night, which they judged very easy, in case there\nwas but a slender Watch kept on Board, they having Boats and Men enough at\nCommand, but it seems the Captain was aware of them, and kept so strong a\nWatch upon Deck, that they found it was in vain to make any Attempt;\nwherefore, when some of the Men went ashore, they were for inveigling them,\nand drawing them into a Plot, for seizing the Captain and securing the rest\nof the Men under Hatches, when they should have the Night-Watch, promising\na Signal to come on Board to join them; proposing, if they succeeded, to go\na Pyrating together, not doubting but with that Ship they should be able to\ntake any Thing they met on the Sea: But the Captain observing an intimacy\ngrowing betwixt them and some of his Men, thought it could be for no good,\nhe therefore broke it off in Time, not suffering them so much as to talk\ntogether; and when he sent a Boat on Shore with an Officer to treat with\nthem about the Sale of Slaves, the Crew remained on Board the Boat, and no\nMan was suffered to talk with them, but the Person deputed by him for that\nPurpose.\nBefore he sailed away, and they found that nothing was to be done, they\nconfessed all the Designs they had formed against him. Thus he left them as\nhe found them, in a great deal of dirty State and Royalty, but with fewer\nSubjects than they had, having, as we observed, sold many of them; and if\nAmbition be the darling Passion of Men, no doubt they were happy. One of\nthese great Princes had formerly been a Waterman upon the _Thames_, where\nhaving committed a Murder, he fled to the _West-Indies_, and was of the\nNumber of those who run away with the Sloops; the rest had been all\nforemast Men, nor was there a Man amongst them, who could either read or\nwrite, and yet their Secretaries of State had no more Learning than\nthemselves. This is all the Account we can give of these Kings of\n_Madagascar_, some of whom it is probable are reigning to this Day.\nCHAP. II. OF Captain _MARTEL_, And his CREW.\nI Come now to the Pyrates that have rose since the Peace of\n_Utrecht_; in War Time there is no room for any, because all those of a\nroving advent'rous Disposition find Employment in Privateers, so there is\nno Opportunity for Pyrates; like our Mobs in London, when they come to any\nHeight, our Superiors order out the Train Bands, and when once they are\nraised, the others are suppressed of Course; I take the Reason of it to be,\nthat the Mob go into the tame Army, and immediately from notorious Breakers\nof the Peace, become, by being put into order, solemn Preservers of it. And\nshould our Legislators put some of the Pyrates into Authority, it would not\nonly lessen their Number, but, I imagine, set them upon the rest, and they\nwould be the likeliest People to find them out, according to the Proverb,\n_set a Thief to catch a Thief._\nTo bring this about, there needs no other Encouragement, but to give all\nthe Effects taken aboard a Pyrate Vessel to the Captors; for in Case of\nPlunder and Gain, they like it as well from Friends, as Enemies, but are\nnot fond, as Things are carry'd, _of ruining poor Fellowes_, say the\n_Creoleans, with no Advantage to themselves._\nThe Multitude of Men and Vessels, employ'd this Way, in Time of War, in the\n_West-Indies_, is another Reason, for the Number of Pyrates in a Time of\nPeace: This cannot be supposed to be a Reflection on any of our _American_\nGovernments, much less on the King himself, by whose Authority such\nCommissions are granted, because of the Reasonableness, and absolute\nNecessity, there is for the doing of it; yet the Observation is just, for\nso many idle People employing themselves in Privateers, for the sake of\nPlunder and Riches, which they always spend as fast as they get, that when\nthe War is over, and they can have no farther Business in the Way of Life\nthey have been used to, they too readily engage in Acts of Pyracy, which\nbeing but the same Practice without a Commission, they make very little\nDistinction betwixt the Lawfulness of one, and the Unlawfulness of the\nother.\nI have not enquired so far back, as to know the Original of this Rover, but\nI believe he and his Gang, were some Privateer's Men belonging to the\nIsland of _Jamaica_, in the preceeding War; his Story is but short, for his\nReign was so; an End having been put to his Adventures in good Time, when\nhe was growing strong and formidable. We find him Commander of a Pyrate\nSloop of eight Guns, and 80 Men, in the Month of _September_, 1716,\ncruising off _Jamaica_, _Cuba_, _&c._ about which Time he took the\n_Berkley_ Galley, Captain _Saunders_, and plundered him of 1000 _l._ in\nMoney, and afterwards met with a Sloop call'd the _King Solomon_, from whom\nhe took some Money, and Provisions, besides Goods, to a good Value.\nThey proceeded after this to the Port of _Cavena_, at the Island of _Cuba_,\nand in their Way took two Sloops, which they plundered, and let go; and off\nthe Port fell in with a fine Galley, with 20 Guns, call'd the _John_ and\n_Martha_, Captain _Wilson_, which they attacked under the pyratical\nBlack-Flag, and made themselves Masters of her. They put some of the Men\nashore, and others they detain'd, as they had done several Times, to\nencrease their Company; but Captain _Martel_, charged Captain _Wilson_, to\nadvise his Owners, that their Ship would answer his Purpose exactly, by\ntaking one Deck down, and as for the Cargo, which consisted chiefly of\nLogwood and Sugar, he would take Care it should be carry'd to a good\nMarket.\nHaving fitted up the aforesaid Ship, as they design'd, they mounted her\nwith 22 Guns, 100 Men, and left 25 Hands in the Sloop, and so proceeded to\nCruize off the _Leeward_ Islands, where they met with but too much Success.\nAfter the taking of a Sloop and a Brigantine, they gave Chase to a stout\nShip, which they came up with, and, at Sight of the Pyrate's Flag, she\nstruck to the Robbers, being a Ship of 20 Guns, call'd the _Dolphin_, bound\nfor _Newfoundland_. Captain _Martel_ made the Men Prisoners, and carry'd\nthe Ship with him.\nThe middle of _December_ the Pyrates took another Galley in her Voyage home\nfrom _Jamaica_, call'd the _Kent_, Captain _Lawton_, and shifted her\nProvisions aboard their own Ship, and let her go, which obliged her to Sail\nback to _Jamaica_ for a Supply for her Voyage. After this they met with a\nsmall Ship and a Sloop, belonging to _Barbadoes_, out of both they took\nProvisions, and then parted with them, having first taken out some of their\nHands, who were willing to be forced to go along with them. The _Greyhound_\nGalley of _London_, Captain _Evans_, from _Guiney_ to _Jamaica_, was the\nnext that had the Misfortune to fall in their Way, which they did not\ndetain long, for as soon as they could get out all her Gold Dust,\nElephant's Teeth, and 40 Slaves, they sent her onwards upon her Voyage.\nThey concluded now, that 'twas high Time to get into Harbour and refit, as\nwell as to get Refreshments themselves, and wait an Opportunity to dispose\nof their Cargo; therefore 'twas resolved to make the best of their Way to\n_Santa Crux_, a small Island in the Lattitude of 18, 30, N. ten Mile long,\nand two broad, lying South-East of _Porto Rico_, belonging to the _French_\nSettlements. Here they thought they might lye privately enough for some\nTime, and fit themselves for further Mischief. They met with a Sloop by the\nWay, which they took along with them, and in the Beginning of the Year\n1716-17, they arrived at their Port, having a Ship of 20 Guns, a Sloop of\neight, and three Prizes, _viz._ another Ship of 20 Guns, a Sloop of four\nGuns, and another Sloop last taken; with this little Fleet, they got into a\nsmall Harbour, or Road, the N. W. Part of the Island, and warp'd up two\nCreeks, which were made by a little Island lying within the Bay; (I am the\nmore particular now, because I shall take Leave of the Gentlemen, at this\nPlace.) They had here bare 16 Foot Water, at the deepest, and but 13 or 14,\nat the shallowest, and nothing but Rocks and Sands without, which secured\nthem from Wind and Sea, and likewise from any considerable Force coming\nagainst them.\nWhen they had all got in, the first Thing they had to do, was to Guard\nthemselves in the best Manner they could; they made a Battery of four Guns\nupon the Island, and another Battery of two Guns on the North Point of the\nRoad, and warp'd in one of the Sloops with eight Guns, at the Mouth of the\nChannel, to hinder any Vessels from coming in; when this was done they went\nto Work on their Ship, unrigging, and unloading, in order to Clean, where I\nshall leave them a while, till I bring other Company to 'em.\nIn the Month of _November_, 1716, General _Hamilton_, Commander in chief of\nall the _Leeward Carribee Islands_, sent a Sloop Express to Captain _Hume_,\nat _Barbadoes_, Commander of his Majesty's Ship, _Scarborough_, of 30 Guns,\nand 140 Men, to acquaint him, that two Pyrate Sloops of 12 Guns each,\nmolested the Colonies, having plundered several Vessels. The _Scarborough_\nhad bury'd twenty Men, and had near forty Sick, and therefore was but in\nill State to go to Sea: However, Captain _Hume_ left his sick Men behind,\nand sailed to the other Islands, for a supply of Men, taking 20 Soldiers\nfrom _Antegoa_; at _Nevis_, he took 10, and 10 at St. _Christophers_, and\nthen sailed to the Island of _Anguilla_, where he learned, that some Time\nbefore, 2 such Sloops had been at _Spanish-Town_, otherwise called, one of\nthe _Virgin_ Islands: Accordingly, the next Day, the _Scarborough_ came to\n_Spanish-Town_, but could hear no News of the Sloops, only, that they had\nbeen there about _Christmas_, (it being then the 15th of _January_.)\nCaptain _Hume_, finding no Account could be had of these Pyrates, designed\nto go back, the next Day, to _Barbadoes_; but, it happened, that Night,\nthat a Boat anchor'd there from _Santa Crux_, and informed him, that he saw\na Pyrate Ship of 22 or 24 Guns, with other Vessels, going in to the North\nWest Part of the Island aforesaid. The _Scarborough_ weigh'd immediately,\nand the next Morning came in Sight of the Rovers, and their Prizes, and\nstood to them, but the Pilot refused to venture in with the Ship; all the\nwhile the Pyrates fir'd red hot Bullets from the Shore. At length, the Ship\ncame to an Anchor, along Side the Reef, near the Channel, and cannonaded\nfor several Hours, both the Vessels and Batteries: About four in the\nAfternoon, the Sloop that guarded the Channel, was sunk by the Shot of the\nMan of War; then she cannonaded the Pyrate Ship of 22 Guns, that lay behind\nthe Island. The next Night, _viz._ the 18th, it falling Calm, Captain\n_Hume_ weigh'd, fearing he might fall on the Reef, and so stood off and on\nfor a Day or two, to block them up. On the 20th, in the Evening, they\nobserved the Man of War to stand off to Sea, and took the Opportunity to\nwarp out, in order to slip away from the Island; but at Twelve o'Clock they\nrun a-ground, and then seeing the _Scarborough_ about, standing in again,\nas their Case was desperate, so they were put into the utmost Confusion;\nthey quitted their Ship, and set her on Fire, with 20 Negroes in her, who\nwere all burnt; 19 of the Pyrates made their Escape in a small Sloop, but\nthe Captain and the rest, with 20 Negroes, betook to the Woods, where 'twas\nprobable they might starve, for we never heard what became of 'em\nafterwards: Captain _Hume_ released the Prisoners, with the Ship and Sloop\nthat remained, and then went after the two Pyrate Sloops first mentioned.\nCHAP. III. OF Captain _TEACH_ alias BLACK-BEARD.\nE_Dward Teach_ was a _Bristol_ Man born, but had sailed some Time out\nof _Jamaica_ in Privateers, in the late _French_ War; yet tho' he had often\ndistinguished himself for his uncommon Boldness and personal Courage, he\nwas never raised to any Command, till he went a-pyrating, which I think was\nat the latter End of the Year 1716, when Captain _Benjamin Hornigold_ put\nhim into a Sloop that he had made Prize of, and with whom he continued in\nConsortship till a little while before _Hornigold_ surrendered.\nIn the Spring of the Year 1717, _Teach_ and _Hornigold_ sailed from\n_Providence_, for the Main of _America_, and took in their Way a Billop\nfrom the _Havana_, with 120 Barrels of Flower, as also a Sloop from\n_Bermuda_, _Thurbar_ Master, from whom they took only some Gallons of Wine,\nand then let him go; and a Ship from _Madera_ to _South-Carolina_, out of\nwhich they got Plunder to a considerable Value.\nAfter cleaning on the Coast of _Virginia_, they returned to the\n_West-Indies_, and in the Latitude of 24, made Prize of a large _French\nGuiney_ Man, bound to _Martinico_, which by _Hornigold_'s Consent, _Teach_\nwent aboard of as Captain, and took a Cruize in her; _Hornigold_ returned\nwith his Sloop to _Providence_, where, at the Arrival of Captain _Rogers_,\nthe Governor, he surrendered to Mercy, pursuant to the King's Proclamation.\nAboard of this _Guiney_ Man _Teach_ mounted no Guns, and named her the\n_Queen Ann's Revenge_; and cruising near the Island of St. _Vincent_, took\na large Ship, called the _Great Allen_, _Christopher Taylor_ Commander; the\nPyrates plundered her of what they though fit, put all the Men ashore upon\nthe Island above mentioned, and then set Fire to the Ship.\nA few Days after, _Teach_ fell in with the _Scarborogh_ Man of War, of 30\nGuns, who engaged him for some Hours; but she finding the Pyrate well\nmann'd, and having tried her strength, gave over the Engagement, and\nreturned to _Barbadoes_, the Place of her Station; and _Teach_ sailed\ntowards the _Spanish America_.\nIn his Way he met with a Pyrate Sloop of ten Guns, commanded by one Major\n_Bonnet_, lately a Gentleman of good Reputation and Estate in the Island of\n_Barbadoes_, whom he joyned; but in a few Days after, _Teach_, finding that\n_Bonnet_ knew nothing of a maritime Life, with the Consent of his own Men,\nput in another Captain, one _Richards_, to Command _Bonnet_'s Sloop, and\ntook the Major on aboard his own Ship, telling him, that _as he had not\nbeen used to the Fatigues and Care of such a Post, it would be better for\nhim to decline it, and live easy and at his Pleasure, in such a Ship as\nhis, where he should not be obliged to perform Duty, but follow his own\nInclinations._\nAt _Turniff_ ten Leagues short of the Bay of _Honduras_, the Pyrates took\nin fresh Water; and while they were at an Anchor there, they saw a Sloop\ncoming in, whereupon, _Richards_ in the Sloop called the _Revenge_, slipped\nhis Cable, and run out to meet her; who upon seeing the black Flag hoisted,\nstruck his Sail and came to, under the Stern of _Teach_ the Commadore. She\nwas called the _Adventure_, from _Jamaica_, _David Harriot_ Master. They\ntook him and his Men aboard the great Ship, and sent a Number of other\nHands with _Israel Hands_, Master of _Teach_'s Ship, to Man the Sloop for\nthe pyratical Account.\nThe 9th of April, they weighed from _Turniff_, having lain there about a\nWeek, and sailed to the Bay, where they found a Ship and four Sloops, three\nof the latter belonged to _Jonathan Bernard_, of _Jamaica_, and the other\nto Captain _James_; the Ship was of _Boston_, called the _Protestant\nC\u00e6sar_, Captain _Wyar_ Commander. _Teach_ hoisted his Black Colours, and\nfired a Gun, upon which Captain _Wyar_ and all his Men, left their Ship,\nand got ashore in their Boat. _Teach_'s Quarter-Master, and eight of his\nCrew, took Possession of _Wyar_'s Ship, and _Richards_ secured all the\nSloops, one of which they burnt out of spight to the Owner; the _Protestant\nC\u00e6sar_ they also burnt, after they had plundered her, because she belonged\nto _Boston_, where some Men had been hanged for Pyracy; and the three\nSloops belonging to _Bernard_ they let go.\nFrom hence the Rovers sailed to _Turkill_, and then to the _Grand\nCaimanes_, a small Island about thirty Leagues to the Westward of\n_Jamaica_, where they took a small Turtler, and so to the _Havana_, and\nfrom thence to the _Bahama_ Wrecks, and from the _Bahama_ Wrecks, they\nsailed to _Carolina_, taking a Brigantine and two Sloops in their Way,\nwhere they lay off the Bar of _Charles-Town_ for five or six Days. They\ntook here a Ship as she was coming out, bound for London, commanded by\n_Robert Clark_, with some Passengers on Board for _England_; the next Day\nthey took another Vessel coming out of _Charles-Town_, and also two Pinks\ncoming into _Charles-Town_; likewise a Brigantine with 14 Negroes aboard;\nall which being done in the Face of the Town, struck a great Terror to the\nwhole Province of _Carolina_, having just before been visited by _Vane_,\nanother notorious Pyrate, that they abandoned themselves to Dispair, being\nin no Condition to resist their Force. They were eight Sail in the Harbour,\nready for the Sea, but none dared to venture out, it being almost\nimpossible to escape their Hands. The inward bound Vessels were under the\nsame unhappy Dilemma, so that the Trade of this Place was totally\ninterrupted: What made these Misfortunes heavier to them, was a long\nexpensive War, the Colony had had with the Natives, which was but just\nended when these Robbers infested them.\n_Teach_ detained all the Ships and Prisoners, and, being in want of\nMedicines, resolves to demand a Chest from the Government of the Province;\naccordingly _Richards_, the Captain of the _Revenge_ Sloop, with two or\nthree more Pyrates, were sent up along with Mr. _Marks_, one of the\nPrisoners, whom they had taken in _Clark_'s Ship, and very insolently made\ntheir Demands, threatning, that if they did not send immediately the Chest\nof Medicines, and let the Pyrate-Ambassadors return, without offering any\nViolence to their Persons, they would murder all their Prisoners, send up\ntheir Heads to the Governor, and set the Ships they had taken on Fire.\nWhilst Mr. _Marks_ was making Application to the Council, _Richards_, and\nthe rest of the Pyrates, walk'd the Streets publickly, in the Sight of all\nPeople, who were fired with the utmost Indignation, looking upon them as\nRobbers and Murtherers, and particularly the Authors of their Wrongs and\nOppressions, but durst not so much as think of executing their Revenge, for\nfear of bringing more Calamities upon themselves, and so they were forced\nto let the Villains pass with Impunity. The Government were not long in\ndeliberating upon the Message, tho' 'twas the greatest Affront that could\nhave been put upon them; yet for the saving so many Mens Lives, (among\nthem, Mr. _Samuel Wragg_, one of the Council;) they comply'd with the\nNecessity, and sent aboard a Chest, valued at between 3 and 400 _l._ and\nthe Pyrates went back safe to their Ships.\n_Blackbeard_, (for so _Teach_ was generally called, as we shall hereafter\nshew) as soon as he had received the Medicines and his Brother Rogues, let\ngo the Ships and the Prisoners; having first taken out of them in Gold and\nSilver, about 1500 _l._ Sterling, besides Provisions and other Matters.\nFrom the Bar of _Charles-Town_, they sailed to _North-Carolina_; Captain\n_Teach_ in the Ship, which they called the Man of War, Captain _Richards_\nand Captain _Hands_ in the Sloops, which they termed Privateers, and\nanother Sloop serving them as a Tender. _Teach_ began now to think of\nbreaking up the Company, and securing the Money and the best of the Effects\nfor himself, and some others of his Companions he had most Friendship for,\nand to cheat the rest: Accordingly, on Pretence of running into _Topsail_\nInlet to clean, he grounded his Ship, and then, as if it had been done\nundesignedly, and by Accident; he orders _Hands_'s Sloop to come to his\nAssistance, and get him off again, which he endeavouring to do, ran the\nSloop on Shore near the other, and so were both lost. This done, _Teach_\ngoes into the Tender Sloop, with forty Hands, and leaves the _Revenge_\nthere; then takes seventeen others and Marroons them upon a small sandy\nIsland, about a League from the Main, where there was neither Bird, Beast\nor Herb for their Subsistance, and where they must have perished if Major\n_Bonnet_ had not two Days after taken them off.\n_Teach_ goes up to the Governor of _North-Carolina_, with about twenty of\nhis Men, surrender to his Majesty's Proclamation, and receive Certificates\nthereof, from his Excellency; but it did not appear that their submitting\nto this Pardon was from any Reformation of Manners, but only to wait a more\nfavourable Opportunity to play the same Game over again; which he soon\nafter effected, with greater Security to himself, and with much better\nProspect of Success, having in this Time cultivated a very good\nunderstanding with _Charles Eden_, Esq; the Governor above mentioned.\nThe first Piece of Service this kind Governor did to _Black-Beard_, was, to\ngive him a Right to the Vessel which he had taken, when he was a pyrating\nin the great Ship called the _Queen Ann's Revenge_; for which purpose, a\nCourt of Vice-Admiralty was held at _Bath-Town_; and, tho' _Teach_ had\nnever any Commission in his Life, and the Sloop belonging to the _English_\nMerchants, and taken in Time of Peace; yet was she condemned as a Prize\ntaken from the _Spaniards_, by the said _Teach_. These Proceedings shew\nthat Governors are but Men.\nBefore he sailed upon his Adventures, he marry'd a young Creature of about\nsixteen Years of Age, the Governor performing the Ceremony. As it is a\nCustom to marry here by a Priest, so it is there by a Magistrate; and this,\nI have been informed, made _Teach_'s fourteenth Wife, whereof, about a\ndozen might be still living. His Behaviour in this State, was something\nextraordinary; for, while his Sloop lay in _Okerecock_ Inlet, and he ashore\nat a Plantation, where his Wife lived, with whom after he had lain all\nNight, it was his Custom to invite five or six of his brutal Companions to\ncome ashore, and he would force her to prostitute her self to them all, one\nafter another, before his Face.\nIn _June_ 1718, he went to Sea, upon another Expedition, and steered his\nCourse towards _Bermudas_; he met with two or three _English_ Vessels in\nhis Way, but robbed them only of Provisions, Stores and other Necessaries,\nfor his present Expence; but near the Island aforementioned, he fell in\nwith two _French_ Ships, one of them was loaden with Sugar and Cocoa, and\nthe other light, both bound to _Martinico_; the Ship that had no Lading he\nlet go, and putting all the Men of the loaded Ship aboard her, he brought\nhome the other with her Cargo to _North-Carolina_, where the Governor and\nthe Pyrates shared the Plunder.\nWhen _Teach_ and his Prize arrived, he and four of his Crew went to his\nExcellency, and made Affidavit, that they found the _French_ Ship at Sea,\nwithout a Soul on Board her; and then a Court was called, and the Ship\ncondemned: The Governor had sixty Hogsheads of Sugar for his Dividend, and\none Mr. _Knight_, who was his Secretary, and Collector for the Province,\ntwenty, and the rest was shared among the other Pyrates.\nThe Business was not yet done, the Ship remained, and it was possible one\nor other might come into the River, that might be acquainted with her, and\nso discover the Roguery; but _Teach_ thought of a Contrivance to prevent\nthis, for, upon a Pretence that she was leaky, and that she might sink, and\nso stop up the Mouth of the Inlet or Cove where she lay, he obtained an\nOrder from the Governor, to bring her out into the River, and set her on\nFire, which was accordingly executed, and she was burnt down to the Water's\nEdge, her Bottom sunk, and with it, their Fears of her ever rising in\nJudgment against them.\nCaptain _Teach_, alias _Black-beard_, passed three or four Months in the\nRiver, sometimes lying at Anchor in the Coves, at other Times sailing from\none Inlet to another, trading with such Sloops as he met, for the Plunder\nhe had taken, and would often give them Presents for Stores and Provisions\ntook from them; that is, when he happened to be in a giving Humour; at\nother Times he made bold with them, and took what he liked, without saying,\n_by your Leave_, knowing well, they dared not send him a Bill for the\nPayment. He often diverted himself with going ashore among the Planters,\nwhere he revelled Night and Day: By these he was well received, but whether\nout of Love or Fear, I cannot say; sometimes he used them courteously\nenough, and made them Presents of Rum and Sugar, in Recompence of what he\ntook from them; but, as for Liberties (which 'tis said) he and his\nCompanions often took with the Wives and Daughters of the Planters, I\ncannot take upon me to say, whether he paid them _ad Valorem_, or no. At\nother Times he carried it in a lordly Manner towards them, and would lay\nsome of them under Contribution; nay, he often proceeded to bully the\nGovernor, not, that I can discover the least Cause of Quarrel betwixt them,\nbut it seemed only to be done, to shew he dared do it.\nThe Sloops trading up and down this River, being so frequently pillaged by\n_Black-beard_, consulted with the Traders, and some of the best of the\nPlanters, what Course to take; they, saw plainly it would be in vain to\nmake any Application to the Governor of _North-Carolina_, to whom it\nproperly belonged to find some Redress; so that if they could not be\nrelieved from some other Quarter, _Black-beard_ would be like to reign with\nImpunity, therefore, with as much Secrecy as possible, they sent a\nDeputation to _Virginia_, to lay the Affair before the Governor of that\nColony, and to solicit an armed Force from the Men of War lying there, to\ntake or destroy this Pyrate.\nThis Governor consulted with the Captains of the two Men of War, _viz._ the\n_Pearl_ and _Lime_, who had lain in St. _James_'s River, about ten Months.\nIt was agreed that the Governor should hire a couple of small Sloops, and\nthe Men of War, should Man them; this was accordingly done, and the Command\nof them given to Mr. _Robert Maynard_, first Lieutenant of the _Pearl_, an\nexperienced Officer, and a Gentleman of great Bravery and Resolution, as\nwill appear by his gallant Behaviour in this Expedition. The Sloops were\nwell mann'd and furnished with Ammunition and small Arms, but had no Guns\nmounted.\nAbout the Time of their going out, the Governor called an Assembly, in\nwhich it was resolved to publish a Proclamation, offering certain Rewards\nto any Person or Persons, who, within a Year after that Time, should take\nor destroy any Pyrate: The original Proclamation being in our Hands, is as\nfollows.\nBy his Majesty's Lieutenant Governor, and, Commander in Chief, of\nthe Colony and Dominion of _Virginia_,\nA PROCLAMATION,\nPublishing the Rewards given for apprehending, or killing, Pyrates.\nW_Hereas, by an Act of Assembly, made at a Session of Assembly, begun\nat the Capital in _Williamsburgh_, the eleventh Day of _November_, in the\nfifth Year of his Majesty's Reign, entituled, _An Act to encourage the\napprehending and destroying of Pyrates_: It is, amongst other Things\nenacted, that all and every Person, or Persons, who, from and after the\nfourteenth Day of _November_, in the Year of our Lord one thousand seven\nhundred and eighteen, and before the fourteenth Day of _November_, which\nshall be in the Year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and nineteen,\nshall take any Pyrate, or Pyrates, on the Sea or Land, or in Case of\nResistance, shall kill any such Pyrate, or Pyrates, between the Degrees of\nthirty four, and thirty nine, of Northern Latitude, and within one hundred\nLeagues of the Continent of _Virginia_, or within the Provinces of\n_Virginia_, or _North-Carolina_, upon the Conviction, or making due Proof\nof the killing of all, and every such Pyrate, and Pyrates, before the\nGovernor and Council, shall be entitled to have, and receive out of the\npublick Money, in the Hands of the Treasurer of this Colony, the several\nRewards following; that is to say, for _Edward Teach_, commonly call'd\nCaptain _Teach_, or _Black-Beard_, one hundred Pounds, for every other\nCommander of a Pyrate Ship, Sloop, or Vessel, forty Pounds; for every\nLieutenant, Master, or Quarter-Master, Boatswain, or Carpenter, twenty\nPounds; for every other inferior Officer, sixteen Pounds, and for every\nprivate Man taken on Board such Ship, Sloop, or Vessel, ten Pounds; and,\nthat for every Pyrate, which shall be taken by any Ship, Sloop or Vessel,\nbelonging to this Colony, or _North-Carolina_, within the Time aforesaid,\nin any Place whatsoever, the like Rewards shall be paid according to the\nQuality and Condition of such Pyrates. Wherefore, for the Encouragement of\nall such Persons as shall be willing to serve his Majesty, and their\nCountry, in so just and honourable an Undertaking, as the suppressing a\nSort of People, who may be truly called Enemies to Mankind: I have thought\nfit, with the Advice and Consent of his Majesty's Council, to issue this\nProclamation, hereby declaring, the said Rewards shall be punctually and\njustly paid, in current Money of _Virginia_, according to the Directions of\nthe said Act. And, I do order and appoint this Proclamation, to be\npublished by the Sheriffs, at their respective County-Houses, and by all\nMinisters and Readers, in the several Churches and Chappels, throughout\nthis Colony._\nGiven at our Council-Chamber at _Williamsburgh_, this 24th Day of\n_November_, 1718, in the fifth Year of his Majesty's Reign.\nGOD SAVE THE KING.\n_A. SPOTSWOOD_.\nThe 17th of _November_, 1718, the Lieutenant sail'd from _Kicquetan_, in\n_James_ River in _Virginia_, and, the 21st in the Evening, came to the\nMouth of _Okerecock_ Inlet, where he got Sight of the Pyrate. This\nExpedition was made with all imaginable Secrecy, and the Officer manag'd\nwith all the Prudence that was necessary, stopping all Boats and Vessels he\nmet with, in the River, from going up, and thereby preventing any\nIntelligence from reaching _Black-Beard_, and receiving at the same time an\nAccount from them all, of the Place where the Pyrate was lurking; but\nnotwithstanding this Caution, _Black-beard_ had Information of the Design,\nfrom his Excellency of the Province; and his Secretary, Mr. _Knight_, wrote\nhim a Letter, particularly concerning it, intimating, _That he had sent him\nfour of his Men, which were all he could meet with, in or about Town, and\nso bid him be upon his Guard._ These Men belonged to _Black-beard_, and\nwere sent from _Bath-Town_ to _Okerecock_ Inlet, where the Sloop lay, which\nis about 20 Leagues.\n_Black-beard_ had heard several Reports, which happened not to be true, and\nso gave the less Credit to this, nor was he convinced till he saw the\nSloops: Whereupon he put his Vessel in a Posture of Defence; he had no more\nthan twenty five Men on Board, tho' he gave out to all the Vessels he spoke\nwith, that he had 40. When he had prepared for Battle, he set down and\nspent the Night in drinking with the Master of a trading Sloop, who, 'twas\nthought, had more Business with _Teach_, than he should have had.\nLieutenant _Maynard_ came to an Anchor, for the Place being shoal, and the\nChannel intricate, there was no getting in, where _Teach_ lay, that Night;\nbut in the Morning he weighed, and sent his Boat a-head of the Sloops to\nsound; and coming within Gun-Shot of the Pyrate, received his Fire;\nwhereupon _Maynard_ hoisted the King's Colours, and stood directly towards\nhim, with the best Way that his Sails and Oars could made. _Black-beard_\ncut his Cable, and endeavoured to make a running Fight, keeping a continual\nFire at his Enemies, with his Guns; Mr. _Maynard_ not having any, kept a\nconstant Fire with small Arms, while some of his Men laboured at their\nOars. In a little Time _Teach_'s Sloop ran a-ground, and Mr. _Maynard_'s\ndrawing more Water than that of the Pyrate, he could not come near him; so\nhe anchored within half Gun-Shot of the Enemy, and, in order to lighten his\nVessel, that he might run him aboard, the Lieutenant ordered all his\nBallast to be thrown over-board, and all the Water to be staved, and then\nweigh'd and stood for him; upon which _Black-beard_ hail'd him in this rude\nManner: _Damn you for Villains, who are you? And, from whence came you?_\nThe Lieutenant made him Answer, _You may see by our Colours we are no\nPyrates._ _Black-beard_ bid him send his Boat on Board, that he might see\nwho he was; but Mr. _Maynard_ reply'd thus; _I cannot spare my Boat, but I\nwill come aboard of you as soon as I can, with my Sloop._ Upon this,\n_Black-beard_ took a Glass of Liquor, and drank to him with these Words:\n_Damnation seize my Soul if I give you Quarters, or take any from you._ In\nAnswer to which, Mr. _Maynard_ told him, _That he expected no Quarters from\nhim, nor should he give him any._\nBy this time _Black-beard_'s Sloop fleeted, as Mr. _Maynard_'s Sloops were\nrowing towards him, which being not above a Foot high in the Waste, and\nconsequently the Men all exposed, as they came near together, (there being\nhitherto little or no Execution done, on either Side,) the Pyrate fired a\nBroadside, charged with all Manner of small Shot. ----A fatal Stroke to\nthem! The Sloop the Lieutenant was in, having twenty Men killed and\nwounded, and the other Sloop nine. This could not be help'd, for there\nbeing no Wind, they were oblig'd to keep to their Oars, otherwise the\nPyrate would have got away from him, which, it seems, the Lieutenant was\nresolute to prevent.\nAfter this unlucky Blow, _Black-beard_'s Sloop fell Broadside to the Shore;\nMr. _Maynard_'s other Sloop, which was called the _Ranger_, fell a-stern,\nbeing, for the present, disabled; so the Lieutenant finding his own Sloop\nhad Way, and would soon be on Board of _Teach_, he ordered all his Men\ndown, for fear of another Broadside, which must have been their\nDestruction, and the loss of their Expedition. Mr. _Maynard_ was the only\nPerson that kept the Deck, except the Man at the Helm, whom he directed to\nlye down snug, and the Men in the Hold were ordered to get their Pistols\nand their Swords ready for close fighting, and to come up at his Command;\nin order to which, two Ladders were placed in the Hatch-Way for the more\nExpedition. When the Lieutenant's Sloop boarded the other, Captain\n_Teach_'s Men threw in several new fashioned sort of Grenadoes, _viz._ Case\nBottles fill'd with Powder, and small Shot, Slugs, and Pieces of Lead or\nIron, with a quick Match in the Mouth of it, which being lighted without\nSide, presently runs into the Bottle to the Powder, and as it is instantly\nthrown on Board, generally does great Execution, besides putting all the\nCrew into a Confusion; but by good Providence, they had not that Effect\nhere; the Men being in the Hold, and _Black-beard_ seeing few or no Hands\naboard, told his Men, _That they were all knock'd on the Head, except three\nor four; and therefore, says he, let's jump on Board, and cut them to\nPieces._\nWhereupon, under the Smoak of one of the Bottles just mentioned,\n_Black-beard_ enters with fourteen Men, over the Bows of _Maynard_'s Sloop,\nand were not seen by him till the Air cleared; however, he just then gave a\nSignal to his Men, who all rose in an Instant, and attack'd the Pyrates\nwith as much Bravery as ever was done upon such an Occasion: _Black-beard_\nand the Lieutenant fired the first Pistol at each other, by which the\nPyrate received a Wound, and then engaged with Swords, till the\nLieutenant's unluckily broke, and stepping back to cock a Pistol,\n_Black-beard_, with his Cutlash, was striking at that Instant, that one of\n_Maynard_'s Men gave him a terrible Wound in the Neck and Throat, by which\nthe Lieutenant came off with a small Cut over his Fingers.\nThey were now closely and warmly engaged, the Lieutenant and twelve Men,\nagainst _Black-beard_ and fourteen, till the Sea was tinctur'd with Blood\nround the Vessel; _Black-beard_ received a Shot into his Body from the\nPistol that Lieutenant _Maynard_ discharg'd, yet he stood his Ground, and\nfought with great Fury, till he received five and twenty Wounds, and five\nof them by Shot. At length, as he was cocking another Pistol, having fired\nseveral before, he fell down dead; by which Time eight more out of the\nfourteen dropp'd, and all the rest, much wounded, jump'd over-board, and\ncall'd out for Quarters, which was granted, tho' it was only prolonging\ntheir Lives for a few Days. The Sloop _Ranger_ came up, and attack'd the\nMen that remain'd in _Black-beard_'s Sloop, with equal Bravery, till they\nlikewise cry'd for Quarters.\nHere was an End of that couragious Brute, who might have pass'd in the\nWorld for a Heroe, had he been employ'd in a good Cause; his Destruction,\nwhich was of such Consequence to the Plantations, was entirely owing to the\nConduct and Bravery of Lieutenant _Maynard_ and his Men, who might have\ndestroy'd him with much less Loss, had they had a Vessel with great Guns;\nbut they were obliged to use small Vessels, because the Holes and Places he\nlurk'd in, would not admit of others of greater Draught; and it was no\nsmall Difficulty for this Gentleman to get to him, having grounded his\nVessel, at least, a hundred times, in getting up the River, besides other\nDiscouragements, enough to have turn'd back any Gentleman without\nDishonour, who was less resolute and bold than this Lieutenant. The\nBroadside that did so much Mischief before they boarded, in all Probability\nsaved the rest from Destruction; for before that _Teach_ had little or no\nHopes of escaping, and therefore had posted a resolute Fellow, a Negroe\nwhom he had bred up, with a lighted Match, in the Powder-Room, with\nCommands to blow up when he should give him Orders, which was as soon as\nthe Lieutenant and his Men could have entered, that so he might have\ndestroy'd his Conquerors: and when the Negro found how it went with\n_Black-beard_, he could hardly be perswaded from the rash Action, by two\nPrisoners that were then in the Hold of the Sloop.\nWhat seems a little odd, is, that some of these Men, who behaved so bravely\nagainst _Black-beard_, went afterwards a pyrating themselves, and one of\nthem was taken along with _Roberts_; but I do not find that any of them\nwere provided for, except one that was hanged; but this is a Digression.\nThe Lieutenant caused _Black-beard_'s Head to be severed from his Body, and\nhung up at the Bolt-sprit End, then he sailed to _Bath-Town_, to get Relief\nfor his wounded Men.\nIt must be observed, that in rummaging the Pyrate's Sloop, they found\nseveral Letters and written Papers, which discovered the Correspondence\nbetwixt Governor _Eden_, the Secretary and Collector, and also some Traders\nat _New-York_, and _Black-beard_. It is likely he had Regard enough for his\nFriends, to have destroyed these Papers before the Action, in order to\nhinder them from falling into such Hands, where the Discovery would be of\nno Use, either to the Interest or Reputation of these fine Gentlemen, if it\nhad not been his fixed Resolution to have blown up together, when he found\nno possibility of escaping.\nWhen the Lieutenant came to _Bath-Town_, he made bold to seize in the\nGovernor's Store-House, the sixty Hogsheads of Sugar, and from honest Mr.\n_Knight_, twenty; which it seems was their Dividend of the Plunder taken in\nthe _French_ Ship; the latter did not long survive this shameful Discovery,\nfor being apprehensive that he might be called to an Account for these\nTrifles, fell sick with the Fright, and died in a few Days.\nAfter the wounded Men were pretty well recover'd, the Lieutenant sailed\nback to the Men of War in _James River_, in _Virginia_, with\n_Black-beard_'s Head still hanging at the Bolt-sprit End, and fiveteen\nPrisoners, thirteen of whom were hanged. It appearing upon Tryal, that one\nof them, _viz._ _Samuel Odell_, was taken out of the trading Sloop, but the\nNight before the Engagement. This poor Fellow was a little unlucky at his\nfirst entering upon his new Trade, there appearing no less than 70 Wounds\nupon him after the Action, notwithstanding which, he lived, and was cured\nof them all. The other Person that escaped the Gallows, was one _Israel\nHands_, the Master of _Black-beard_'s Sloop, and formerly Captain of the\nsame, before the _Queen Ann's Revenge_ was lost in _Topsail_ Inlet.\nThe aforesaid _Hands_ happened not to be in the Fight, but was taken\nafterwards ashore at _Bath-Town_, having been sometime before disabled by\n_Black-beard_, in one of his savage Humours, after the following\nManner.--One Night drinking in his Cabin with _Hands_, the Pilot, and\nanother Man; _Black-beard_ without any Provocation privately draws out a\nsmall Pair of Pistols, and cocks them under the Table, which being\nperceived by the Man, he withdrew and went upon Deck, leaving _Hands_, the\nPilot, and the Captain together. When the Pistols were ready, he blew out\nthe Candle, and crossing his Hands, discharged them at his Company;\n_Hands_, the Master, was shot thro' the Knee, and lam'd for Life; the other\nPistol did no Execution. --Being asked the meaning of this, he only\nanswered, by damning them, that _if he did not now and then kill one of\nthem, they would forget who he was._\n_Hands_ being taken, was try'd and condemned, but just as he was about to\nbe executed, a Ship arrives at _Virginia_ with a Proclamation for\nprolonging the Time of his Majesty's Pardon, to such of the Pyrates as\nshould surrender by a limited Time therein expressed: Notwithstanding the\nSentence, _Hands_ pleaded the Pardon, and was allowed the Benefit of it,\nand is alive at this Time in London, begging his Bread.\nNow that we have given some Account of _Teach_'s Life and Actions, it will\nnot be amiss, that we speak of his Beard, since it did not a little\ncontribute towards making his Name so terrible in those Parts.\n_Plutarch_, and other grave Historians have taken Notice, that several\ngreat Men amongst the _Romans_, took their Sir-Names from certain odd Marks\nin their Countenances; as _Cicero_, from a Mark or Vetch on his Nose; so\nour Heroe, Captain _Teach_, assumed the Cognomen of _Black-beard_, from\nthat large Quantity of Hair, which, like a frightful Meteor, covered his\nwhole Face, and frightened _America_ more than any Comet that has appeared\nthere a long Time.\nThis Beard was black, which he suffered to grow of an extravagant Length;\nas to Breadth, it came up to his Eyes; he was accustomed to twist it with\nRibbons, in small Tails, after the Manner of our Ramilies Wiggs, and turn\nthem about his Ears: In Time of Action, he wore a Sling over his Shoulders,\nwith three brace of Pistols, hanging in Holsters like Bandaliers; and stuck\nlighted Matches under his Hat, which appearing on each Side of his Face,\nhis Eyes naturally looking fierce and wild, made him altogether such a\nFigure, that Imagination cannot form an Idea of a Fury, from Hell, to look\nmore frightful.\nIf he had the look of a Fury, his Humours and Passions were suitable to it;\nwe shall relate two or three more of his Extravagancies, which we omitted\nin the Body of his History, by which it will appear, to what a Pitch of\nWickedness, human Nature may arrive, if it's Passions are not checked.\nIn the Commonwealth of Pyrates, he who goes the greatest Length of\nWickedness, is looked upon with a kind of Envy amongst them, as a Person of\na more extraordinary Gallantry, and is thereby entitled to be distinguished\nby some Post, and if such a one has but Courage, he must certainly be a\ngreat Man. The Hero of whom we are writing, was thoroughly accomplished\nthis Way, and some of his Frolicks of Wickedness, were so extravagant, as\nif he aimed at making his Men believe he was a Devil incarnate; for being\none Day at Sea, and a little flushed with drink:--_Come_, says he, _let us\nmake a Hell of our own, and try how long we can bear it_; accordingly he,\nwith two or three others, went down into the Hold, and closing up all the\nHatches, filled several Pots full of Brimstone, and other combustible\nMatter, and set it on Fire, and so continued till they were almost\nsuffocated, when some of the Men cried out for Air; at length he opened the\nHatches, not a little pleased that he held out the longest.\nThe Night before he was killed, he set up and drank till the Morning, with\nsome of his own Men, and the Master of a Merchant-Man, and having had\nIntelligence of the two Sloops coming to attack him, as has been before\nobserved; one of his Men asked him, in Case any thing should happen to him\nin the Engagement with the Sloops, whether his Wife knew where he had\nburied his Money? He answered, _That no Body but himself and the Devil,\nknew where it was, and the longest Liver should take all._\nThose of his Crew who were taken alive, told a Story which may appear a\nlittle incredible; however, we think it will not be fair to omit it, since\nwe had it from their own Mouths. That once upon a Cruize, they found out\nthat they had a Man on Board more than their Crew; such a one was seen\nseveral Days amongst them, sometimes below, and sometimes upon Deck, yet no\nMan in the Ship could give an Account who he was, or from whence he came;\nbut that he disappeared little before they were cast away in their great\nShip, but, it seems, they verily believed it was the Devil.\nOne would think these Things should induce them to reform their Lives, but\nso many Reprobates together, encouraged and spirited one another up in\ntheir Wickedness, to which a continual Course of drinking did not a little\ncontribute; for in _Black-beard_'s Journal, which was taken, there were\nseveral Memorandums of the following Nature, sound writ with his own\nHand.-- _Such a Day, Rum all out:--Our Company somewhat sober:--A damn'd\nConfusion amongst us!--Rogues a plotting;--great Talk of Separation.--So I\nlook'd sharp for a Prize;--such a Day took one, with a great deal of Liquor\non Board, so kept the Company hot, damned hot, then all Things went well\nagain._\nThus it was these Wretches passed their Lives, with very little Pleasure or\nSatisfaction, in the Possession of what they violently take away from\nothers, and sure to pay for it at last, by an ignominious Death.\nThe Names of the Pyrates killed in the Engagement, are as follow.\n_Edward Teach_, Commander.\n_Phillip Morton_, Gunner.\n_Garrat Gibbens_, Boatswain.\n_Owen Roberts_, Carpenter.\n_Thomas Miller_, Quarter-Master.\n_John Husk_,\n_Joseph Curtice_,\n_Joseph Brooks_, (1)\n_Nath. Jackson_.\nAll the rest, except the two last, were wounded and afterwards\nhanged in _Virginia_.\n_John Carnes, Joseph Philips,_\n_Joseph Brooks, _(2)_ James Robbins,_\n_James Blake, John Martin,_\n_John Gills, Edward Salter,_\n_Thomas Gates, Stephen Daniel,_\n_James White, Richard Greensail._\n_Richard Stiles, Israel Hands, _pardoned.\n_C\u00e6sar, Samuel Odel_, acquited.\nThere were in the Pyrate Sloops, and ashore in a Tent, near where the\nSloops lay, 25 Hogsheads of Sugar, 11 Teirces, and 145 Bags of Cocoa, a\nBarrel of Indigo, and a Bale of Cotton; which, with what was taken from the\nGovernor and Secretary, and the Sale of the Sloop, came to 2500 _l._\nbesides the Rewards paid by the Governor of _Virginia_, pursuant to his\nProclamation; all which was divided among the Companies of the two Ships,\n_Lime_ and _Pearl_, that lay in _James_ River; the brave Fellows that took\nthem coming in for no more than their Dividend amongst the rest, and was\npaid it within these three Months.\nCHAP. IV. OF Major _Stede Bonnet_, And his CREW.\nTHE Major was a Gentleman of good Reputation in the Island of\n_Barbadoes_, was Master of a plentiful Fortune, and had the Advantage of a\nliberal Education. He had the least Temptation of any Man to follow such a\nCourse of Life, from the Condition of his Circumstances. It was very\nsurprizing to every one, to hear of the Major's Enterprize, in the Island\nwere he liv'd; and as he was generally esteem'd and honoured, before he\nbroke out into open Acts of Pyracy, so he was afterwards rather pitty'd\nthan condemned, by those that were acquainted with him, believing that this\nHumour of going a pyrating, proceeded from a Disorder in his Mind, which\nhad been but too visible in him, some Time before this wicked Undertaking;\nand which is said to have been occasioned by some Discomforts he found in a\nmarried State; be that as it will, the Major was but ill qualify'd for the\nBusiness, as not understanding maritime Affairs.\nHowever, he fitted out a Sloop with ten Guns and 70 Men, entirely at his\nown Expence, and in the Night-Time sailed from _Barbadoes_. He called his\nSloop the _Revenge_; his first Cruize was off the Capes of _Virginia_,\nwhere he took several Ships, and plundered them of their Provisions,\nCloaths, Money, Ammunition, _&c._ in particular the _Anne_, Captain\n_Montgomery_, from _Glascow_; the _Turbet_ from _Barbadoes_, which for\nCountry sake, after they had taken out the principal Part of the Lading,\nthe Pyrate Crew set her on Fire; the _Endeavour_, Captain _Scot_, from\n_Bristol_, and the _Young_ from _Leith_. From hence they went to\n_New-York_, and off the East End of _Long-Island_, took a Sloop bound for\nthe _West-Indies_, after which they stood in and landed some Men at\n_Gardner_'s _Island_, but in a peaceable Manner, and bought Provisions for\nthe Company's Use, which they paid for, and so went off again without\nMolestation.\nSome Time after, which was in _August_ 1717, _Bonnet_ came off the Bar of\n_South-Carolina_, and took a Sloop and a Brigantine bound in; the Sloop\nbelonged to _Barbadoes, Joseph Palmer_ Master, laden with Rum, Sugar and\nNegroes; and the Brigantine came from _New-England, Thomas Porter_ Master,\nwhom they plundered, and then dismiss'd; but they sailed away with the\nSloop, and at an Inlet in _North-Carolina_ careened by her, and then set\nher on Fire.\nAfter the Sloop had cleaned, they put to Sea, but came to no Resolution\nwhat Course to take; the Crew were divided in their Opinions, some being\nfor one Thing, and some another, so that nothing but Confusion seem'd to\nattend all their Schemes.\nThe Major was no Sailor as was said before, and therefore had been obliged\nto yield to many Things that were imposed on him, during their Undertaking,\nfor want of a competent Knowledge in maritime Affairs; at length happening\nto fall in Company with another Pyrate, one _Edward Teach_, (who for his\nremarkable black ugly Beard, was more commonly called _Black-Beard_:) This\nFellow was a good Sailor, but a most cruel hardened Villain, bold and\ndaring to the last Degree, and would not stick at the perpetrating the most\nabominable Wickedness imaginable; for which he was made Chief of that\nexecrable Gang, that it might be said that his Post was not unduly filled,\n_Black-beard_ being truly the Superior in Roguery, of all the Company, as\nhas been already related.\nTo him _Bonnet_'s Crew joined in Consortship, and _Bonnet_ himself was laid\naside, notwithstanding the Sloop was his own; he went aboard\n_Black-beard_'s Ship, not concerning himself with any of their Affairs,\nwhere he continued till she was lost in _Topsail_ Inlet, and one _Richards_\nwas appointed Captain in his Room. The Major now saw his Folly, but could\nnot help himself, which made him Melancholy; he reflected upon his past\nCourse of Life, and was confounded with Shame, when he thought upon what he\nhad done: His Behaviour was taken Notice of by the other Pyrates, who liked\nhim never the better for it; and he often declared to some of them, that he\nwould gladly leave off that Way of Living, being fully tired of it; but he\nshould be ashamed to see the Face of any _English_ Man again; therefore if\nhe could get to _Spain_ or _Portugal_, where he might be undiscovered, he\nwould spend the Remainder of his Days in either of those Countries,\notherwise he must continue with them as long as he lived.\nWhen _Black-beard_ lost his Ship at _Topsail_ Inlet, and surrendered to the\nKing's Proclamation, _Bonnet_ reassumed the Command of his own Sloop,\n_Revenge_, goes directly away to _Bath-Town_ in _North-Carolina_,\nsurrenders likewise to the King's Pardon, and receives a Certificate. The\nWar was now broke out between the _Tripple_ Allies and _Spain_; so Major\n_Bonnet_ gets a Clearence for his Sloop at _North-Carlina_, to go to the\nIsland of St. _Thomas_, with a Design (at least it was pretended so) to get\nthe Emperor's Commission, to go a Privateering upon the _Spaniards_. When\n_Bonnet_ came back to _Topsail_ Inlet, he found that _Teach_ and his Gang\nwere gone, and that they had taken all the Money, small Arms and Effects of\nValue out of the great Ship, and set ashore on a small sandy Island above a\nLeague from the Main, seventeen Men, no doubt with a Design they should\nperish, there being no Inhabitant, or Provisions to subsist withal, nor any\nBoat or Materials to build or make any kind of Launch or Vessel, to escape\nfrom that desolate Place: They remained there two Nights and one Day,\nwithout Subsistance, or the least Prospect of any, expecting nothing else\nbut a lingering Death; when to their inexpressable Comfort, they saw\nRedemption at Hand; for Major _Bonnet_ happening to get Intelligence of\ntheir being there, by two of the Pyrates who had escaped _Teach_'s Cruelty,\nand had got to a poor little Village at the upper End of the Harbour, sent\nhis Boat to make Discovery of the Truth of the Matter, which the poor\nWretches seeing, made a signal to them, and they were all brought on Board\n_Bonnet_'s Sloop.\nMajor _Bonnet_ told all his Company, that he would take a Commission to go\nagainst the _Spaniards_, and to that End, was going to St. _Thomas_'s\ntherefore if they would go with him, they should be welcome; whereupon they\nall consented, but as the Sloop was preparing to sail, a Bom-Boat, that\nbrought Apples and Sider to sell to the Sloop's Men, informed them, that\nCaptain _Teach_ lay at _Ocricock_ Inlet, with only 18 or 20 Hands.\n_Bonnet_, who bore him a mortal Hatred for some Insults offered him, went\nimmediately in pursuit of _Black-beard_, but it happened too late, for he\nmissed of him there, and after four Days Cruize, hearing no farther News of\nhim, they steered their Course towards _Virginia_.\nIn the Month of _July_, these Adventurers came off the Capes, and meeting\nwith a Pink with a Stock of Provisions on Board, which they happened to be\nin Want of, they took out of her ten or twelve Barrels of Pork, and about\n400 Weight of Bread; but because they would not have this set down to the\nAccount of Pyracy, they gave them eight or ten Casks of Rice, and an old\nCable, in lieu thereof.\nTwo Days afterwards they chased a Sloop of sixty Ton, and took her two\nLeagues off of Cape _Henry_; they were so happy here as to get a Supply of\nLiquor to their Victuals, for they brought from her two Hogsheads of Rum,\nand as many of Molosses, which, it seems, they had need of, tho' they had\nnot ready Money to purchase them: What Security they intended to give, I\ncan't tell, but _Bonnet_ sent eight Men to take Care of the Prize Sloop,\nwho, perhaps, not caring to make Use of those accustom'd Freedoms, took the\nfirst Opportunity to go off with her, and _Bonnet_ (who was pleased to have\nhimself called Captain _Thomas_,) saw them no more.\nAfter this, the Major threw off all Restraint, and though he had just\nbefore received his Majesty's Mercy, in the Name of _Stede Bonnet_, he\nrelaps'd in good Earnest into his old Vocation, by the Name of Captain\n_Thomas_, and recommenced a down-right Pyrate, by taking and plundering all\nthe Vessels he met with: He took off Cape _Henry_, two Ships from\n_Virginia_, bound to _Glascow_, out of which they had very little besides\nan hundred Weight of Tobacco. The next Day they took a small Sloop bound\nfrom _Virginia_ to _Bermudas_, which supply'd them with twenty Barrels of\nPork, some Bacon, and they gave her in return, two Barrels of Rice, and a\nHogshead of Molossus; out of this Sloop two Men enter'd voluntarily. The\nnext they took was another _Virginia_ Man, bound to _Glascow_, out of which\nthey had nothing of Value, save only a few Combs, Pins and Needles, and\ngave her instead thereof, a Barrel of Pork, and two Barrels of Bread.\nFrom _Virginia_ they sailed to _Philadelphia_, and in the Latitude of 38\nNorth, they took a Scooner, coming from _North-Carolina_, bound to\n_Boston_, they had out of her only two Dozen of Calf-Skins, to make Covers\nfor Guns, and two of their Hands, and detained her some Days. All this was\nbut small Game, and seem'd as if they design'd only to make Provision for\ntheir Sloop against they arrived at St. _Thomas_'s; for they hitherto had\ndealt favourably with all that were so unhappy as so fall into their Hands;\nbut those that came after, fared not so well, for in the Latitude of 32,\noff of _Delaware_ River, near _Philadelphia_, they took two Snows bound to\n_Bristol_, out of whom they got some Money, besides Goods, perhaps to the\nValue of 150 Pounds; at the same Time they took a Sloop of sixty Tons bound\nfrom _Philadelphia_ to _Barbadoes_, which after taking some Goods out, they\ndismissed along with the Snows.\nThe 29th Day of _July_, Captain _Thomas_ took a Sloop of 50 Tons, six or\nseven Leagues off _Delaware_ Bay, bound from _Philadelphia_ to _Barbadoes,\nThomas Read_ Master, loaden with Provisions, which they kept, and put four\nor five of their Hands on Board her. The last Day of _July_, they took\nanother Sloop of 60 Tons, commanded by _Peter Manwaring_, bound from\n_Antegoa_ to _Philadelphia_, which they likewise kept with all the Cargo,\nconsisting chiefly of Rum, Molosses, Sugar, Cotton, Indigo, and about 25\nPound in Money, valued in all to 500 Pound.\nThe last Day of _July_, our Rovers with the Vessels last taken, left\n_Delaware_ Bay, and sailed to Cape _Fear_ River, where they staid too long\nfor their Safety, for the Pyrate Sloop which they now new named the _Royal\nJames_, proved very leaky, so that they were obliged to remain here almost\ntwo Months, to refit and repair their Vessel: They took in this River a\nsmall Shallop, which they ripped up to mend the Sloop, and retarded the\nfurther Prosecution of their Voyage, as before mentioned, till the News\ncame to _Carolina_, of a Pyrate Sloop's being there to carreen with her\nPrizes.\nUpon this Information, the Council of _South-Carolina_ was alarmed, and\napprehended they should receive another Visit from them speedily; to\nprevent which, Colonel _William Rhet_, of the same Province, waited on the\nGovernor, and generously offered himself to go with two Sloops to attack\nthis Pyrate; which the Governor readily accepted, and accordingly gave the\nColonel a Commission and full Power, to fit such Vessels as he thought\nproper for the Design.\nIn a few Days two Sloops were equipped and manned: The _Henry_ with 8 Guns\nand 70 Men, commanded by Captain _John Masters_, and the _Sea Nymph_, with\n8 Guns and 60 Men, commanded by Captain _Fayrer Hall_, both under the\nentire Direction and Command of the aforesaid Colonel _Rhet_, who, on the\n14th of _September_, went on Board the _Henry_, and, with the other Sloop,\nsailed from _Charles-Town_ to _Swillivants_ Island, to put themselves in\norder for the Cruize. Just then arrived a small Ship from _Antigoa_, one\n_Cock_ Master, with an Account, that in Sight of the Bar he was taken and\nplundered by one _Charles Vane_, a Pyrate, in a Brigantine of 12 Guns and\n90 Men; and who had also taken two other Vessels bound in there, one a\nsmall Sloop, Captain _Dill_ Master, from _Barbadoes_; the other a\nBrigantine, Captain _Thompson_ Master, from _Guiney_, with ninety odd\nNegroes, which they took out of the Vessel, and put on Board another Sloop\nthen under the Command of one _Yeats_, his Consort, with 25 Men. This\nprov'd fortunate to the Owners of the _Guiney_ Man, for _Yeats_ having\noften attempted to quit this Course of Life, took an Opportunity in the\nNight, to leave _Vane_ and to run into _North-Edisto_ River, to the\nSouthward of _Charles-Town_, and surrendered to his Majesty's Pardon. The\nOwners got their Negroes, and _Yeats_ and his Men had Certificates given\nthem from the Government.\n_Vane_ cruised some Time off the Bar, in hopes to catch _Yeats_, and\nunfortunately for them, took two Ships coming out, bound to _London_, and\nwhile the Prisoners were aboard, some of the Pyrates gave out, that they\ndesigned to go into one of the Rivers to the Southward. Colonel _Rhet_,\nupon hearing this, sailed over the Bar the 15th of _September_, with the\ntwo Sloops before mentioned; and having the Wind Northerly, went after the\nPyrate _Vane_, and scoured the Rivers and Inlets to the Southward; but not\nmeeting with him, tacked and stood for Cape _Fear_ River, in Prosecution of\nhis first Design. On the 26th following, in the Evening, the Colonel with\nhis small Squadron, entered the River, and saw, over a Point of Land, three\nSloops at an Anchor, which were Major _Bonnet_ and his Prizes; but it\nhappened that in going up the River, the Pilot run the Colonel's Sloops\naground, and it was dark before they were on Float, which hindered their\ngetting up that Night. The Pyrates soon discovered the Sloops, but not\nknowing who they were, or upon what Design they came into that River, they\nmanned three Canoes, and sent them down to take them, but they quickly\nfound their Mistake, and returned to the Sloop, with the unwelcome News.\nMajor _Bonnet_ made Preparations that Night for engaging, and took all the\nMen out of the Prizes. He shewed Captain _Manwaring_, one of his Prisoners,\na Letter, he had just wrote, which he declared he would send to the\nGovernor of _Carolina_; the Letter was to this Effect, _viz. That if the\nSloops, which then appeared, were sent out against him, by the said\nGovernor, and he should get clear off, that he would burn and destroy all\nShips or Vessels going in or coming out of_ South-Carolina. The next\nMorning they got under Sail, and came down the River, designing only a\nrunning Fight. Colonel _Rhet_'s Sloops got likewise under Sail, and stood\nfor him, getting upon each Quarter of the Pyrate, with Intent to board him;\nwhich he perceiving, edged in towards the Shore, and being warmly engaged,\ntheir Sloop ran a-ground: The _Carolina_ Sloops being in the same shoal\nWater, were in the same Circumstances; the _Henry_, in which Colonel _Rhet_\nwas, grounded within Pistol shot of the Pyrate, and on his Bow; the other\nSloop grounded right a-head of him, and almost out of Gun-Shot, which made\nher of little Service to the Colonel, while they lay a-ground.\nAt this Time the Pyrate had a considerable Advantage; for their Sloop,\nafter she was a-ground, listed from Colonel _Rhet_'s, by which Means they\nwere all covered, and the Colonel's Sloop listing the same Way, his Men\nwere much exposed; notwithstanding which, they kept a brisk Fire the whole\nTime they lay thus a-ground, which was near five Hours. The Pyrates made a\nWiff in their bloody Flag, and beckoned several Times with their Hats in\nDerision to the Colonel's Men, to come on Board, which they answered with\nchearful Huzza's, and said, _that they would speak with them by and by_;\nwhich accordingly happened, for the Colonel's Sloop being first a float, he\ngot into deeper Water, and after mending the Sloop's Rigging, which was\nmuch shattered in the Engagement, they stood for the Pyrate, to give the\nfinishing Stroke, and designed to go directly on Board him; which he\nprevented, by sending a Flag of Truce, and after some Time capitulating,\nthey surrendered themselves Prisoners. The Colonel took Possession of the\nSloop, and was extreamly pleased to find that Captain _Thomas_, who\ncommanded her, was the individual Person of Major _Stede Bonnet_, who had\ndone them the Honour several Times to visit their own Coast of _Carolina_.\nThere were killed in this Action, on Board the _Henry_, ten Men, and\nfourteen wounded; on Board the _Sea Nymph_, two killed and four wounded.\nThe Officers and Sailors in both Sloops behaved themselves with the\ngreatest Bravery; and had not the Sloops so unluckily run a-ground, they\nhad taken the Pyrate with much less loss of Men; but as he designed to get\nby them, and so make a running Fight, the _Carolina_ Sloops were obliged to\nkeep near him, to prevent his getting away. Of the Pyrates there were seven\nkilled and five wounded, two of which died soon after of their Wounds.\nColonel _Rhet_ weigh'd the 30th of _September_, from Cape _Fear_ River, and\narrived at _Charles-Town_ the 3d of _October_, to the great Joy of the\nwhole Province of _Carolina_.\n_Bonnet_ and his Crew, two Days after, were put ashore, and there not being\na publick Prison, the Pyrates were kept at the Watch-House, under a Guard\nof Militia; but Major _Bonnet_ was committed into the Custody of the\nMarshal, at his House; and in a few Days after, _David Hariot_ the Master,\nand _Ignatius Pell_ the Boatswain, who were designed for Evidences against\nthe other Pyrates, were removed from the rest of the Crew, to the said\nMarshal's House, and every Night two Centinals set about the said House;\nbut whether thro' any Corruption, or want of Care in guarding the\nPrisoners, I can't say; but on the 24th of _October_, the Major and\n_Hariot_ made their Escape, the Boatswain refusing to go along with them.\nThis made a great Noise in the Province, and People were open in their\nResentments, often reflecting on the Governor, and others in the\nMagistracy, as tho' they had been brib'd, for conniving at their Escape.\nThese Invectives arose from their Fears, that _Bonnet_ would be capable of\nraising another Company, and prosecute his Revenge against this Country,\nfor what he had lately, tho' justly, suffered: But they were in a short\nTime made easy in those Respects; for as soon as the Governor had the\nAccount of _Bonnet_'s Escape, he immediately issued out a Proclamation, and\npromised a Reward of 700 Pounds to any that would take him, and sent\nseveral Boats with armed Men, both to the Northward and Southward, in\npursuit of him.\n_Bonnet_ stood to the Northward, in a small Vessel, but wanting\nNecessaries, and the Weather being bad, he was forced back, and so return'd\nwith his Canoe, to _Swillivants_ Island, near _Charles-Town_, to fetch\nSupplies; but there being some Information sent to the Governor, he sent\nfor Colonel _Rhet_, and desired him to go in pursuit of _Bonnet_; and\naccordingly gave him a Commission for that Purpose: Wherefore the Colonel,\nwith proper Craft, and some Men, went away that Night for _Swillivant_'s\nIsland, and, after a very diligent Search, discovered _Bonnet_ and _Hariot_\ntogether; the Colonel's Men fired upon them, and killed _Hariot_ upon the\nSpot, and wounded one Negro and an _Indian. Bonnet_ submitted, and\nsurrender'd himself; and the next Morning, being _November_ the 6th, was\nbrought by Colonel _Rhet_ to _Charles-Town_, and, by the Governor's\nWarrant, was committed into safe Custody, in order for his being brought to\nhis Tryal.\nOn the 28th of _October_, 1718, a Court of Vice-Admiralty was held at\n_Charles-Town_, in _South-Carolina_, and, by several Adjournments,\ncontinued to _Wednesday_, the 12th of _November_ following, for the Tryal\nof the Pyrates taken in a Sloop formerly called _the Revenge_, but\nafterwards _the Royal James_, before _Nicholas Trot_, Esq; Judge of the\nVice-Admiralty, and Chief Justice of the said Province of _South-Carolina_,\nand other Assistant Judges.\nThe King's Commission to Judge _Trot_ was read, and a Grand Jury sworn, for\nthe finding of the several Bills, and a learned Charge given them by the\nsaid Judge, wherein he 1st shewed, _That the Sea was given by God, for the\nUse of Men, and is Subject to Dominion and Property, as well as the Land_.\n2dly, He particularly remark'd to them, _the Sovereignty of the King of_\nEngland _over the_ British _Seas_.\n3dly, He observed, _that as Commerce and Navigation could not be carried on\nwithout Laws; so there have been always particular Laws, for the better\nordering and regulating marine Affairs_; with an historical Account or\nthose Laws, and Origine.\n4thly, He proceeded to shew, _that there have been particular Courts and\nJudges appointed; to whose Jurisdiction maritime Causes do belong, and that\nin Matters both Civil and Criminal_.\nAnd then 5thly, He particularly shewed them, _the Constitution and\nJurisdiction of that Court of Admiralty Sessions_.\nAnd lastly, _the Crimes cognizable therein_; and particularly enlarged\n_upon the Crime of Pyracy_, which was then brought before them.\nThe Indictments being found, a petit Jury was sworn, and the following\nPersons arraigned and tried.\n_Stede Bonnet_, alias _Edwards_, alias _Thomas_, late of _Barbadoes_,\nMariner.\n_Robert Tucker_, late of the Island of _Jamaica_, Mariner.\n_Edward Robinson_, late of _New-Castle_ upon _Tine_, Mariner.\n_Neal Paterson_, late of _Aberdeen_, Mariner.\n_William Scot_, late of _Aberdeen_, Mariner.\n_William Eddy_, alias _Neddy_, late of _Aberdeen_, Mariner.\n_Alexander Annand_, late of _Jamaica_, Mariner.\n_George Rose_, late of _Glascow_, Mariner.\n_George Dunkin_, late of _Glascow_, Mariner.\n*_Thomas Nicholas_, late of _London_, Mariner.\n_John Ridge_, late of _London_, Mariner.\n_Matthew King_, late of _Jamaica_, Mariner.\n_Daniel Perry_, late of _Guernsey_, Mariner.\n_Henry Virgin_, late of _Bristol_, Mariner.\n_James Robbins_, alias _Rattle_, late of _London_, Mariner.\n_James Mullet_, alias _Millet_, late of _London_, Mariner.\n_Thomas Price_, late of _Bristol_, Mariner.\n_James Wilson_, late of _Dublin_, Mariner.\n_John Lopez_, late of _Oporto_, Mariner.\n_Zachariah Long_, late of the Province of _Holland_, Mariner.\n_Job Bayly_, late of _London_, Mariner.\n_John-William Smith_, late of _Charles-Town, Carolina_, Mariner.\n_Thomas Carman_, late of _Maidstone_ in _Kent_, Mariner.\n_John Thomas_, late of _Jamaica_, Mariner.\n_William Morrison_, late of _Jamaica_, Mariner.\n_Samuel Booth_, late of _Charles-Town_, Mariner.\n_William Hewet_, late of _Jamaica_, Mariner.\n_John Levit_, late of _North-Carolina_, Mariner.\n_William Livers_, alias _Evis_.\n_John Brierly_, alias _Timberhead_, late of _Bath-Town_ in _North\nCarolina_, Mariner.\n_Robert Boyd_, late of _Bath-Town_ aforesaid, Mariner.\n*_Rowland Sharp_, of _Bath-Town_, Mariner.\n*_Jonathan Clarke_, late of _Charles-Town, South Carolina_, Mariner.\n*_Thomas Gerrard_, late of _Antegoa_, Mariner.\nAnd all, except the three last, and _Thomas Nicholas_, were found Guilty,\nand received Sentence of Death.\nThey were most of them try'd upon two Indictments, as follows.\nT_HE Jurors for our Sovereign Lord the King, do upon their Oath\npresent, that_ Stede Bonnet, _late of_ Barbadoes, _Mariner_, Robert Tucker,\n&c. &c. _The_ 2_d Day of_ August, _in the fifth Year of the Reign of our\nSovereign Lord_ George, &c. _By Force of Arms upon the High-Sea, in a\ncertain Place called Cape_ James, &c. _did pyratically, and felloniously\nset upon, break,_ _board, and enter, a certain Merchant Sloop, called the_\nFrances, Peter Manwaring _Commander, by Force_, &c. _upon the High-Sea, in\na certain Place, called Cape_ James, alias _Cape_ Inlopen, _about two Miles\ndistant from the Shore, in the Lattitude of_ 39, _or thereabouts; and\nwithin the Jurisdiction of the Court of Vice-Admiralty, of_ South-Carolina,\n_being a Sloop of certain Persons_, (_to the Jurors, unknown_) _and then,\nand there, pyratically, and felloniously did make an Assault, in, and upon\nthe said_ Peter Manwaring, _and others his Mariners_, (_whose Names to the\nJurors aforesaid, are unknown,) in the same Sloop, against the Peace of\nGod, and of our said now Sovereign Lord the King, then, and there being,\npyratically and felloniously, did put the aforesaid_ Peter Manwaring, _and\nothers, his Mariners, of the same Sloop, in the Sloop aforesaid, then\nbeing, in corporal Fear of their Lives, then and there, in the Sloop\naforesaid, upon the_ High-Sea, _in the Place aforesaid, called Cape_ James,\nalias _Cape_ Inlopen, _about two Miles from the Shore, in the Lattitude of_\n39, _or thereabouts, as aforesaid, and within the Jurisdiction aforesaid;\npyratically, and felloniously, did steal, take, and carry away the said\nMerchant Sloop, called the_ Frances, _and also twenty six Hogsheads_, &c.\n&c. &c. _being found in the aforesaid Sloop, in the Custody and Possession\nof the said_ Peter Manwaring, _and others, his Mariners of the said Sloop,\nand from their Custody and Possession, then and there, upon the High-Sea\naforesaid, called Cape_ James, alias _Cape_ Inlopen, _as aforesaid, and\nwithin the Jurisdiction aforesaid, against the Peace of our now Sovereign\nLord the King, his Crown and Dignity_.\nThis was the Form of the Indictments they were arraigned upon, and tho'\nthey might have proved several more Facts upon the major Part of the Crew,\nthe Court thought fit to prosecute but two; the other was for seizing in a\npyratical and felonious Manner, the Sloop _Fortune, Thomas Read_ Commander;\nwhich Indictment running in the same Form with the above-mentioned, it will\nbe unnecessary to say more of it.\nAll the Prisoners arraigned, pleaded Not Guilty, and put themselves upon\ntheir Tryals, except _James Wilson_, and _John Levit_, who pleaded Guilty\nto both Indictments, and _Daniel Perry_, to one only. The Major would have\ngone through both the Indictments at once, which the Court not admitting,\nhe pleaded Not Guilty to both Indictments, but being convicted of one, he\nretracted his former Plea to the second Indictment, and pleaded Guilty to\nit.\nThe Prisoners made little or no Defence, every one pretending only that\nthey were taken off a Maroon Shore, and were shipped with Major _Bonnet_ to\ngo to St. _Thomas_'s; but being out at Sea, and wanting Provisions, they\nwere obliged to do what they did by others; and so did Major _Bonnet_\nhimself, pretend that 'twas Force, not Inclination, that occasioned what\nhad happened. However, the Facts being plainly proved, and that they had\nall shared ten or eleven Pounds a Man, excepting the three last, and\n_Thomas Nichols_, they were all but they, found Guilty. The Judge made a\nvery grave Speech to them, setting forth _the Enormity of their Crimes, the\nCondition they were now in, and the Nature and Necessity of an unfeigned\nRepentance_; and then recommended them to the Ministers of the Province,\nfor more ample Directions, to fit them for Eternity, _for_ (concluded he)\n_the Priest's Lips shall keep Knowledge, and you shall seek the Law at\ntheir Mouths; for they are the Messengers of the Lord_. Mat. II. 57. _And\nthe Ambassadors of Christ, and unto them is committed the Word_ [or\nDoctrine] _of Reconciliation_, 2 Cor. V. 19. 20. And then pronounced\nSentence of Death upon them.\nOn _Saturday November_ the 8th, 1711. _Robert Tucker, Edward Robinson, Neal\nPaterson, William Scot, Job Bayley, John-William Smith, John Thomas,\nWilliam Morrison, Samuel Booth, William Hewit, William Eddy_, alias _Neddy,\nAlexander Annand, George Ross, George Dunkin, Matthew King, Daniel Perry,\nHenry Virgin, James Robbins, James Mullet_, alias _Millet, Thomas Price,\nJohn Lopez_, and _Zachariah Long_, were executed at the _White-Point_ near\n_Charles-Town_, pursuant to their Sentence.\nAs for the Captain, his Escape protracted his Fate, and spun out his Life a\nfew Days longer, for he was try'd the 10th, and being found Guilty,\nreceived Sentence in like Manner as the former; before which Judge _Trot_,\nmade a most excellent Speech to him, rather somewhat too long to be taken\ninto our History, yet I could not tell how to pass by so good and useful a\nPiece of Instruction, not knowing whose Hands this Book may happen to fall\ninto.\n_The Lord Chief Justices's_ SPEECH, _upon his pronouncing Sentence on\nMajor_ STEDE BONNET.\nMAjor _Stede Bonnet_, you stand here convicted upon two Indictments\nof Pyracy; one by the Verdict of the Jury, and the other by your own\nConfession.\nAltho' you were indicted but for _two_ Facts, yet you know that at your\nTryal it was fully proved even by an unwilling Witness, that you\n_pyratically_ took and rifled no less than _thirteen_ Vessels, since you\nsail'd from _North-Carolina_.\nSo that you might have been indicted, and convicted of _eleven_ more Acts\nof _Pyracy_, since you took the Benefit of the King's _Act of Grace_, and\npretended to leave that wicked Course of Life.\nNot to mention the many _Acts_ of _Pyracy_ you committed before; for which\nif your Pardon from _Man_ was never so authentick, yet you must expect to\nanswer for them before God.\nYou know that the Crimes you have committed are _evil_ in themselves, and\ncontrary to the _Light_ and _Law_ of _Nature_, as well as the _Law_ of God,\nby which you are commanded that _you shall not steal_, Exod. 20. 15. And\nthe Apostle St. _Paul_ expresly affirms, That _Thieves shall not inherit\nthe Kingdom of God_, 1 Cor. 6. 10.\nBut to _Theft_ you have added a greater Sin, which is _Murder_. How many\nyou may have _killed_ of those that resisted you in the committing your\nformer _Pyracies_, I know not: But this we all know, That besides the\nWounded, you kill'd no less than _eighteen_ Persons out of those that were\nsent by lawful Authority to suppress you, and put a Stop to those Rapines\nthat you daily acted.\nAnd however you may fancy that that was killing Men fairly in open _Fight_,\nyet this know, that the Power of the _Sword_ not being committed into your\nHands by any lawful Authority, you were not impowered to use any _Force_,\nor _fight_ any one; and therefore those Persons that fell in that Action,\nin doing their Duty to their King and Country, were _murdered_, and their\n_Blood_ now cries out for _Vengeance_ and _Justice_ against you: For it is\nthe _Voice of Nature_, confirmed by the _Law_ of God, That _whosoever\nsheddeth Man's Blood, by Man shall his Blood be shed_. Gen. 9. 6.\nAnd consider that Death is not the only Punishment due to _Murderers_; for\nthey are threatened to have _their Part in the Lake which burneth with Fire\nand Brimstone, which is the second Death_, Rev. 21. 8. See _Chap._ 22. 15.\nWords which carry that Terror with them, that considering your\nCircumstances and your Guilt, surely the Sound of them must make you\ntremble; _For who can dwell with everlasting Burnings?_ Chap. 33. 14.\nAs the _Testimony_ of your _Conscience_ must convince you of the great and\nmany Evils you have committed, by which you have highly offended God, and\nprovoked most justly his Wrath and Indignation against you, so I suppose I\nneed not tell you that the only Way of obtaining Pardon and Remission of\nyour Sins from God, is by a true and unfeigned _Repentance_ and _Faith_ in\nChrist, by whose meritorious Death and Passion, you can only hope for\nSalvation.\nYou being a Gentleman that have had the Advantage of a _liberal Education_,\nand being generally esteemed a Man of _Letters_, I believe it will be\nneedless for me to explain to you the Nature of _Repentance_ and _Faith_ in\nChrist, they being so fully and so often mentioned in the Scriptures, that\nyou cannot but know them. And therefore, perhaps, for that Reason it might\nbe thought by some improper for me to have said so much to you, as I have\nalready upon this Occasion; neither should I have done it, but that\nconsidering the Course of your Life and Actions, I have just Reason to\nfear, that the Principles of Religion that had been instilled into you by\nyour _Education_, have been at least corrupted, if not entirely defaced, by\nthe _Scepticism_ and _Infidelity_ of this wicked Age; and that what Time\nyou allowed for Study, was rather applied to the _Polite Literature_, and\nthe vain _Philosophy_ of the Times, than a serious Search after the _Law_\nand _Will_ of God, as revealed unto us in the Holy _Scriptures_: For _had\nyour Delight been in the Law of the Lord, and that you had meditated\ntherein Day and Night_, Psal. 1. 2. you would then have found that God's\n_Word was a Lamp unto your Feet, and a Light to your Path_, Psal. 119. 105.\nand that you would account all other Knowledge but _Loss_, in Comparison of\n_the Excellency of the Knowledge of Christ Jesus_, Phil. 3. 8. _who to them\nthat are called is the Power of God, and the Wisdom of God_, 1 Cor. 1. 24.\n_even the hidden Wisdom which God ordained before the World_, Chap. 2. 7.\nYou would then have esteemed the _Scriptures_ as the _Great Charter_ of\nHeaven, and which delivered to us not only the most perfect _Laws_ and\n_Rules_ of Life, but also discovered to us the Acts of _Pardon_ from God,\nwherein they have offended those righteous Laws: For in them only is to be\nfound the great _Mystery_ of fallen Man's _Redemption, which the Angels\ndesire to look into_, 1 Pet. 1. 12.\nAnd they would have taught you that _Sin_ is the debasing of _Human\nNature_, as being a _Derivation_ from that _Purity, Rectitude_, and\n_Holiness_, in which God created us, and that _Virtue_ and _Religion_, and\nwalking by the Laws of God, were altogether preferable to the Ways of _Sin_\nand _Satan_; for that the _Ways_ of Virtue are _Ways of Pleasantness, and\nall their Paths are Peace_, Prov. 3. 17.\nBut what you could not learn from God's Word, by reason of your\n_carelesly_, or but _superficially_ considering the same, I hope the Course\nof his _Providence_, and the present _Afflictions_ that he hath laid upon\nyou, hath now convinced you of the same: For however in your seeming\nProsperity you might make a _Mock at your Sins_ Prov. 3. 17. yet now that\nyou see that God's Hand hath reached you, and brought you to publick\nJustice, I hope your present unhappy Circumstances hath made you seriously\nreflect upon your past Actions and Course of Life; and that you are now\nsensible of the Greatness of your Sins, and that you find the Burden of\nthem is intolerable.\nAnd that therefore being thus _labouring, and heavy laden with Sin_, Mat.\n11. 28. you will esteem that as the most valuable _Knowledge_, that can\nshew you how you can be reconciled to that Supreme God that you have so\nhighly offended; and that can reveal to you Him who is not only the\npowerful _Advocate with the Father for you_, 1 John 2. 1. but also who hath\npaid that Debt that is due for your Sins by his own Death upon the Cross\nfor you; and thereby made full Satisfaction for the Justice of God. And\nthis is to be found no where but in God's Word, which discovers to us that\n_Lamb of God which takes away the Sins of the World_, John 1. 29. which is\n_Christ_ the Son of God: For this know, and be assured, _that there is none\nother Name under Heaven given among Men, whereby we must be saved_, Acts 4.\n12. but only by the Name of the Lord _Jesus_.\nBut then consider how he invites all Sinners to come unto him, and, _that\nhe will give them rest_, Matt. 11. 28. for he assures us, _that he came to\nseek and to save that which was lost_, Luke 19. 10, Mat. 18. 11. and hath\npromised, _that he that cometh unto him, he will in no wise cast out_, John\nSo that if now you will sincerely turn to him, tho' late, even at the\n_eleventh Hour_, Mat. 20. 6, 9. he will receive you.\nBut surely I need not tell you, that the _Terms_ of his _Mercy_ is _Faith_\nand _Repentance_.\nAnd do not mistake the _Nature_ of Repentance to be only a bare Sorrow for\nyour Sins, arising from the Consideration of the _Evil_ and _Punishment_\nthey have now brought upon you; but your Sorrow must arise from the\nConsideration of your having offended a gracious and merciful God.\nBut I shall not pretend to give you any particular Directions as to the\nNature of Repentance: I consider that I speak to a Person, whose Offences\nhave proceeded not so much from his not _knowing_, as his _slighting_ and\n_neglecting_ his _Duty_: Neither is it proper for me to give Advice out of\nthe Way of my own Profession.\nYou may have that better delivered to you by those who have made Divinity\ntheir particular Study; and who, by their Knowledge, as well as their\nOffice, as being the _Ambassadors of Christ_, 2 Cor. 5. 20. are best\nqualified to give you Instructions therein.\nI only heartily wish, that what, in Compassion to your Soul, I have now\nsaid to you upon this sad and solemn Occasion, by exhorting you in general\nto _Faith_ and _Repentance_, may have that due Effect upon you, that\nthereby you may become a true _Penitent_.\nAnd therefore having now discharged my Duty to you as a _Christian_, by\ngiving you the best Counsel I can, with respect to the Salvation of your\nSoul, I must now do my Office as a _Judge_.\nThe _Sentence_ that the Law hath appointed to pass upon you for your\nOffences, and which this Court doth therefore award, is,\n_That you, the said_ Stede Bonnet, _shall go from hence to the Place from\nwhence you came, and from thence to the Place of Execution, where you shall\nbe hanged by the Neck till you are dead_.\n_And the God of infinite Mercy be merciful to your Soul_.\nCHAP. V. OF Capt. _Edward England_, And his CREW.\nE_Dward England_ went Mate of a Sloop that sail'd out of _Jamaica_,\nand was taken by Captain _Winter_, a Pyrate, just before their Settlement\nat _Providence_; from whence _England_ had the Command of a Sloop in the\nsame laudable Employment: It is surprizing that Men of good Understanding\nshould engage in a Course of Life, that so much debases humane Nature, and\nsets them upon a Level with the wild Beasts of the Forest, who live and\nprey upon their weaker Fellow Creatures: A Crime so enormous! That it\nincludes almost all others, as Murder, Rapine, Theft, Ingratitude, _&c._\nand tho' they make these Vices familiar to them by their daily Practice,\nyet these Men are so inconsistent with themselves, that a Reflection made\nupon their Honour, their Justice, or their Courage, is look'd upon as an\nOffence that ought to be punished with the Life of him that commits it:\n_England_ was one of these Men, who seem'd to have such a Share of Reason,\nas should have taught him better Things. He had a great deal of good\nNature, and did not want for Courage; he was not avaritious, and always\naverse to the ill Usage Prisoners received: He would have been contented\nwith moderate Plunder, and less mischievous Pranks, could his Companions\nhave been brought to the same Temper, but he was generally over-rul'd, and\nas he was engaged in that abominable Society, he was obliged to be a\nPartner in all their vile Actions.\nCaptain _England_ sail'd to the Coast of _Africa_, after the Island of\n_Providence_ was settled by the _English_ Government, and the Pyrates\nsurrendered to his Majesty's Proclamation; and took several Ships and\nVessels, particularly the _Cadogan_ Snow belonging to _Bristol_, at\n_Sierraleone_, one _Skinner_ Master, who was inhumanly murthered by some of\nthe Crew, that had lately been his own Men, and served in the said Vessel.\nIt seems some Quarrel had happened between them, so that _Skinner_ thought\nfit to remove these Fellows on Board of a Man of War, and at the same Time\nrefused them their Wages; not long after they found Means to desert that\nService, and shipping themselves aboard a Sloop in the _West-Indies_, was\ntaken by a Pyrate, and brought to _Providence_, and sailed upon the same\nAccount along with Captain _England_.\nAssoon as _Skinner_ had struck to the Pyrate, he was ordered to come on\nBoard in his Boat, which he did, and the Person that he first cast his Eye\nupon, proved to be his old Boatswain, who star'd him in the Face like his\nevil Genius, and accosted him in this Manner.-- _Ah, Captain_ Skinner! _Is\nit you? The only Man I wished to see; I am much in your Debt, and now I\nshall pay you all in your own Coin_.\nThe poor Man trembled every Joint, when he found into what Company he had\nfallen, and dreaded the Event, as he had Reason enough so to do; for the\nBoatswain immediately called to his Consorts, laid hold of the Captain, and\nmade him fast to the Windless, and there pelted him with Glass Bottles,\nwhich cut him in a sad Manner; after which they whipp'd him about the Deck,\ntill they were weary, being deaf to all his Prayers and Intreaties, and at\nlast, because he had been a good Master to his Men, they said, he should\nhave an easy Death, and so shot him thro' the Head. They took some few\nThings out of the Snow, but gave the Vessel and all her Cargo to _Howel\nDavis_ the Mate; and the rest of the Crew, as will be hereafter mentioned\nin the Chapter of Captain _Davis_.\nCaptain _England_ took a Ship called the _Pearl_, Captain _Tyzard_\nCommander, for which he exchanged his own Sloop, fitted her up for the\npyratical Account, and new christen'd her, the _Royal James_, with which he\ntook several Ships and Vessels of different Nations at the _Azores_ and\n_Cape de Verd Islands_.\nIn the Spring, 1719, the Rovers returned to _Africa_, and beginning at the\nRiver _Gambia_, sailed all down the Coast; and between that and _Cape\nCorso_, took the following Ships and Vessels.\nThe _Eagle_ Pink, Captain _Rickets_ Commander belonging to _Cork_, taken\nthe 25th of _March_, having 6 Guns and 17 Men on Board, seven of which\nturned Pyrates.\nThe _Charlotte_, Captain _Oldson_, of _London_, taken _May_ the 26th,\nhaving 8 Guns and 18 Men on Board, 13 of which turned Pyrates.\nThe _Sarah_, Captain _Stunt_, of _London_, taken the 27th of _May_, having\n4 Guns and 18 Men on Board, 3 of which turned Pyrates.\nThe _Bentworth_, Captain _Gardener_, of _Bristol_, taken the 27th of _May_,\nhaving 12 Guns and 30 Men on Board, 12 of which turned Pyrates.\nThe _Buck_ Sloop, Captain _Sylvester_, of _Gambia_, taken the 27th of\n_May_, having 2 Guns and 2 Men on Board, and both turned Pyrates.\nThe _Carteret_, Captain _Snow_, of _London_, taken the 28th of _May_,\nhaving 4 Guns and 18 Men on Board, 5 of which turned Pyrates.\nThe _Mercury_, Captain _Maggott_, of _London_, taken the 29th of _May_,\nhaving 4 Guns and 18 Men on Board, 5 of which turned Pyrates.\nThe _Coward_ Galley, Captain _Creed_, of _London_, taken the 17th of\n_June_, having 2 Guns and 13 Men on Board, 4 of which turned Pyrates.\nThe _Elizabeth_ and _Katherine_, Captain _Bridge_ of _Barbadoes_, taken\n_June_ the 27th, having 6 Guns and 14 Men on Board, 4 of which turned\nPyrates.\nThe _Eagle_ Pink being bound to _Jamaica_, the _Sarah_ to _Virginia_, and\nthe _Buck_ to _Maryland_, they let them go, but the _Charlotte_, the\n_Bentworth_, the _Carteret_, and the _Coward_ Galley, they burnt; and the\n_Mercury_, and the _Elizabeth_ and _Katherine_ were fitted up for Pyrate\nShips, the former was new nam'd _Queen Ann_'s _Revenge_, and commanded by\none _Lane_, and the other was call'd the _Flying King_, of which _Robert\nSample_ was appointed Captain. These two left _England_ upon the Coast,\nsail'd to the _West-Indies_, where they took some Prizes, clean'd, and\nsail'd to _Brasil_ in _November_; they took several _Portuguese_ Ships\nthere, and did a great deal of Mischief, but in the height of their\nUndertakings, a _Portuguese_ Man of War, which was an excellent Sailor,\ncame a very unwelcome Guest to them, and gave them Chace; the Queen _Ann's\nRevenge_ got off, but was lost a little while after upon that Coast; and\nthe _Flying King_, giving herself over for lost, ran ashore: There were\nthen 70 Men on Board, 12 of which were kill'd, and the rest taken\nPrisoners, of whom the _Portuguese_ hang'd 38, of which 32 were _English_,\nthree _Dutch_, two _French_, and one of their own Nation.\n_England_, in going down the Coast, took the _Peterborough_ Galley of\n_Bristol_, Captain _Owen_; and the _Victory_, Captain _Ridout_; the former\nthey detained, but plundered the latter, and let her go. In _Cape Corso_\nRoad, they saw two Sail at Anchor, but before they could reach them, they\nslipp'd their Cables and got close under _Cape Corso Castle_, these were\nthe _Whydah_, Captain _Prince_, and the _John_, Captain _Rider_: The\nPyrates upon this made a fire Ship of a Vessel they had lately taken, and\nattempted to burn them, as tho' they had been a common Enemy, which if\neffected, they could not have been one Farthing the better for it; but the\nCastle firing warmly upon them, they withdrew, and sail'd down to _Whydah_\nRoad, where they found another Pyrate, one Captain _la Bouche_, who getting\nthither before _England_ arrived, had forestall'd the Market, and greatly\ndisappointed their Brethren.\nCaptain _England_, after this Baulk, went into a Harbour, clean'd his own\nShip, and fitted up the _Peterborough_, which he call'd the _Victory_; they\nliv'd there very wantonly for several Weeks, making free with the Negroe\nWomen, and committing such outragious Acts, that they came to an open\nRupture with the Natives, several of whom they kill'd, and one of their\nTowns they set on Fire.\nWhen the Pyrates came out to Sea, they put it to a Vote what Voyage to\ntake, and the Majority carrying it for the _East-Indies_, they shap'd their\nCourse accordingly, and arrived at _Madagascar_, the Beginning of the Year\n1720. They staid not long there, but after taking in Water and Provisions,\nsail'd for the Coast of _Malabar_, which is a fine fruitful Country in the\n_East-Indies_, in the Empire of the _Mogul_, but immediately subject to its\nown Princes: It reaches from the Coast of _Canara_ to _Cape Camorin_, which\nis between 7\u00b0 30, and 12\u00b0 North Lattitude, and in about 75\u00b0 East Longitude,\ncounting from the Meridian of _London_. The old Natives are Pagans, but\nthere are a great Number of _Mahometans_ inhabiting among them, who are\nMerchants, and generally rich. On the same Coast, but in a Province to the\nNorthward lies _Goa, Surat, Bombay_, where the _English, Dutch_, and\n_Portuguese_ have Settlements.\nHither our Pyrates came, having made a Tour of half the Globe, as the\nPsalmist says of the Devils, _Going about like roaring Lions, seeking whom\nthey might devour_. They took several Country Ships, that is, _Indian_\nVessels, and one European, a _Dutch_ Ship, which they exchanged for one of\ntheir own, and then came back to _Madagascar_.\nThey sent several of their Hands on Shore with Tents, Powder, and Shot, to\nkill Hogs, Venison, and such other fresh Provision as the Island afforded,\nand a Whim came into their Heads to seek out for the Remains of _Avery_'s\nCrew, whom they knew to be settled somewhere in the Island.--Accordingly\nsome of them travell'd several Days Journey, without hearing any\nIntelligence of them, and so were forc'd to return with the Loss of their\nLabour, for these Men were settled on the other Side of the Island, as has\nbeen taken Notice of under the Chapter of _Avery_.\nThey stay'd not long here, after they had clean'd their Ships, but sailing\nto _Juanna_; they met two _English_, and one _Ostend India_ Men, coming out\nof that Harbour, one of which, after a desperate Resistance, they took; the\nParticulars of which Action is at length related in the following Letter,\nwrote by the Captain from _Bombay_.\nA LETTER from Captain _Mackra_, dated at _Bombay, Nov._ 16, 1720.\nW_E arrived the_ 25_th of_ July _last, in Company of the_ Greenwich,\n_at_ Juanna, (_an Island not far from_ Madagascar) _putting in there to\nrefresh our Men, we found fourteen Pyrates that came in their Canoes from\nthe_ Mayotta, _where the Pyrate Ship to which they belong'd_, viz. _the_\nIndian Queen, _two hundred and fifty Tons, twenty eight Guns, and ninety\nMen, commanded by Capt._ Oliver de la Bouche, _bound from the_ Guinea\n_Coast to the_ East-Indies, _had been bulged and lost. They said they left\nthe Captain and_ 40 _of their Men building a new Vessel to proceed on their\nwicked Design. Capt._ Kirby _and I concluding it might be of great Service\nto the_ East-India _Company to destroy such a Nest of Rogues, were ready to\nsail for that Purpose the_ 17_th of_ August, _about Eight o'Clock in the\nMorning, when we discovered two Pyrate Ships standing into the Bay of_\nJuanna, _one of thirty four, and the other of thirty Guns. I immediately\nwent on Board the_ Greenwich, _where they seem'd very diligent in\nPreparations for an Engagement, and I left Capt._ Kirby _with mutual\nPromises of standing by each other. I then unmoor'd, got under Sail, and\nbrought two Boats a-head to row me close to the_ Greenwich; _but he being\nopen to a Valley and a Breeze, made the best of his Way from me; which an_\nOstender _in our Company, of_ 22 _Guns, seeing, did the same, though the\nCaptain had promised heartily to engage with us, and I believe would have\nbeen as good as his Word, if Capt._ Kirby _had kept his. About half an Hour\nafter Twelve, I called several times to the_ Greenwich _to bear down to our\nAssistance, and fir'd Shot at him, but to no Purpose. For tho' we did not\ndoubt but he would join us, because when he got about a League from us, he\nbrought his Ship to, and look'd on, yet both he and the_ Ostender _basely\ndeserted us, and left us engaged with barbarous and inhuman Enemies, with\ntheir black and bloody Flags hanging over us, without the least Appearance\nof escaping being cut to Pieces. But God, in his good Providence,\ndetermin'd otherwise; for notwithstanding their Superiority, we engaged 'em\nboth about three Hours, during which, the biggest received some Shot\nbetwixt Wind and Water, which made her keep off a little to stop her Leaks.\nThe other endeavoured all she could to board us, by rowing with her Oars,\nbeing within half a Ship's Length of us above an Hour; but by good Fortune\nwe shot all her Oars to Pieces, which prevented them, and by consequence\nsaved our Lives_.\n_About Four o'Clock, most of the Officers and Men posted on the\nQuarter-Deck being killed and wounded, the largest Ship making up to us\nwith all Diligence, being still within a Cable's Length of us, often giving\nus a Broadside, and no hopes of Capt._ Kirby_'s coming to our Assistance,\nwe endeavoured to run ashoar; and tho' we drew four Foot Water more than\nthe Pyrate, it pleased God that he stuck fast on a higher Ground than we\nhappily fell in with; so was disappointed a second time from boarding us.\nHere we had a more violent Engagement than before. All my Officers, and\nmost of my Men, behaved with unexpected Courage; and as we had a\nconsiderable Advantage by having a Broadside to his Bow, we did him great\nDamage, so that had Capt._ Kirby _come in then, I believe we should have\ntaken both, for we had one of them sure; but the other Pyrate_ (_who was\nstill firing at us_) _seeing the_ Greenwich _did not offer to assist us, he\nsupplied his Consort with three Boats full of fresh Men. About Five in the\nEvening the_ Greenwich _stood clear away to Sea, leaving us struggling hard\nfor Life in the very Jaws of Death; which the other Pyrate, that was\nafloat, seeing, got a-warp out, and was hauling under our Stern; by which\ntime many of my Men being killed and wounded, and no Hopes left us from\nbeing all murdered by enraged barbarous Conquerors, I order'd all that\ncould, to get into the Long-Boat under the Cover of the Smoak of our Guns;\nso that with what some did in Boats, and others by swimming, most of us\nthat were able got ashoar by Seven o' Clock. When the Pyrates came aboard,\nthey cut three of our wounded Men to Pieces. I, with a few of my People,\nmade what haste I could to the_ King's-Town, _twenty five Miles from us,\nwhere I arrived next Day, almost dead with Fatigue and Loss of Blood,\nhaving been sorely wounded in the Head by a Musket Ball_.\n_At this Town I heard that the Pyrates had offered ten thousand Dollars to\nthe Country People to bring me in, which many of them would have accepted,\nonly they knew the King and all his chief People were in my Interest. Mean\ntime, I caused a Report to be spread, that I was dead of my Wounds, which\nmuch abated their Fury. About ten Days after, being pretty well recovered,\nand hoping the Malice of our Enemies was nigh over, I began to consider the\ndismal Condition we were reduced to, being in a Place where we had no Hopes\nof getting a Passage home, all of us in a manner naked, not having had Time\nto get another Shirt, or a Pair of Shoes_.\n_Having obtained Leave to go on Board the Pyrates, and a Promise of Safety,\nseveral of the Chief of them knew me, and some of them had sailed with me,\nwhich I found of great Advantage; because, notwithstanding their Promise,\nsome of them would have cut me, and all that would not enter with them, to\nPieces, had it not been for the chief Captain_, Edward England, _and some\nothers I knew. They talked of burning one of their Ships, which we had so\nentirely disabled, as to be no farther useful to them, and to fit the_\nCassandra _in her room; but in the End I managed my Tack so well, that they\nmade me a Present of the said shattered Ship, which was_ Dutch _built,\ncalled the_ Fancy, _about three hundred Tons, and also a hundred and twenty\nnine Bales of the Company's Cloth, tho' they would not give me a Rag of my\nCloathes_.\n_They sailed the_ 3_d of_ September; _and with Jury-Masts, and such old\nSails as they left me, I made shift to do the like on the_ 8_th, together\nwith forty three of my Ship's Crew, including two Passengers and twelve\nSoldiers, having but five Tons of Water aboard; and after a Passage of\nforty eight Days, I arrived here_ October 26, _almost naked and starv'd,\nhaving been reduced to a Pint of Water a Day, and almost in despair of ever\nseeing Land, by Reason of the Calms we met with between the Coast of_\nArabia _and_ Malabar.--_We had in all thirteen Men killed and twenty four\nwounded; and we were told, that we had destroyed about ninety or a hundred\nof the Pyrates. When they left us, they were about three hundred Whites and\neighty Blacks in both Ships. I am persuaded, had our Consort the_ Greenwich\n_done his Duty, we had destroyed both of them, and got two hundred thousand\nPounds for our Owners and selves; whereas to his deserting us, the Loss of\nthe_ Cassandra _may justly be imputed. I have delivered all the Bales that\nwere given me into the Company's Warehouse, for which the Governor and\nCouncil have ordered me a Reward. Our Governor, Mr._ Boon, _who is extreme\nkind and civil to me, has ordered me home with this Pacquet; but Captain_\nHarvey, _who had a prior Promise, being come in with the Fleet, goes in my\nroom. The Governor hath promis'd me a Country Voyage, to help make me up my\nLosses, and would have me stay to go home with him next Year_.\nCaptain _Mackra_ certainly run a great Hazard, in going aboard the Pyrate,\nand began quickly to repent his Credulity; for though they had promised,\nthat no Injury should be done to his Person, he found their Words were not\nto be trusted; and it may be supposed, that nothing but the desperate\nCircumstances Captain _Mackra_ imagined himself to be in, could have\nprevailed upon him to fling himself and Company into their Hands, perhaps\nnot knowing how firmly the Natives of that Island were attach'd to the\n_English_ Nation; for about 20 Years ago, Captain _Cornwall_, Commadore of\nan _English_ Squadron, assisted them against another Island called\n_Mohilla_, for which they have ever since communicated all the grateful\nOffices in their Power, insomuch that it became a Proverb, _That an_\nEnglishman, _and a_ Juanna _Man were all one_.\n_England_ was inclined to favour Captain _Mackra_; but he was so free to\nlet him know, that his Interest was declining amongst them; and that the\nPyrates were so provoked at the Resistance he made against them, that he\nwas afraid he should hardly be able to protect him; he therefore advised\nhim to sooth up and manage the Temper of Captain _Taylor_, a Fellow of a\nmost barbarous Nature, who was become a great Favourite amongst them for no\nother Reason than because he was a greater Brute than the rest. _Mackra_\ndid what he could to soften this Beast, and ply'd him with warm Punch;\nnotwithstanding which, they were in a Tumult whether they should make an\nEnd of him, or no, when an Accident happen'd which turn'd to the Favour of\nthe poor Captain; a Fellow with a terrible pair of Whiskers, and a wooden\nLeg, being stuck round with Pistols, like the Man in the Almanack with\nDarts, comes swearing and vapouring upon the Quarter-Deck, and asks, in a\ndamning Manner, which was Captain _Mackra_: The Captain expected no less\nthan that this Fellow would be his Executioner;--but when he came near him,\nhe took him by the Hand, swearing, _Damn him he was glad to see him; and\nshew me the Man_, says he, _that offers to hurt Captain_ Mackra, _for I'll\nstand by him_; and so with many Oaths told him, _he was an honest Fellow,\nand that he had formerly sail'd with him_.\nThis put an End to the Dispute, and Captain _Taylor_ was so mellow'd with\nthe Punch, that he consented that the old Pyrate Ship, and so many Bales of\nCloth should be given to Captain _Mackra_, and so he fell asleep. _England_\nadvised Captain _Mackra_ to get off with all Expedition, least when the\nBeast should awake, he might repent his Generosity: Which Advice was\nfollowed by the Captain.\nCaptain _England_ having sided so much to Captain _Mackra_'s Interest, was\na Means of making him many Enemies among the Crew; they thinking such good\nUsage inconsistent with their Polity, because it looked like procuring\nFavour at the Aggravation of their Crimes; therefore upon Imagination or\nReport, that Captain _Mackra_ was fitting out against them, with the\nCompany's Force, he was soon _abdicated_ or pulled out of his Government,\nand marooned with three more on the Island of _Mauritius_: An Island\nindeed, not to be complained of, had they accumulated any Wealth by their\nVillanies that would have afforded some future comfortable Prospect, for it\nabounds with Fish, Deer, Hogs and other Flesh. Sir _Thomas Herbert_, says,\nthe Shores with Coral and Ambergrease; but I believe the _Dutch_ had not\ndeserted it, had there been much of these Commodities to have been found.\nIt was in 1722, resettled by the _French_, who have a Fort at another\nneighbouring Island, called _Don Mascarine_, and are touched at for Water,\nWood, and Refreshments, by _French_ Ships bound to, or for _India_; as St.\n_Helena_ and _Cape Bon Esperance_, are by us and the _Dutch_. From this\nPlace, Captain _England_ and his Companions having made a little Boat of\nStaves and old Pieces of Deal left there, went over to _Madagascar_, where\nthey subsist at present on the Charity of some of their Brethren, who had\nmade better Provision for themselves, than they had done.\nThe Pyrates detained some Officers and Men belonging to Captain _Mackra_,\nand having repaired the Damages received in their Rigging, they sailed for\n_India_. The Day before they made Land, saw two Ships to the Eastward, who\nat first Sight, they took to be _English_, and ordered one of the\nPrisoners, who had been an Officer with Captain _Mackra_, to tell them the\nprivate Signals between the Company's Ships, the Captain swearing he would\ncut him in pound Pieces, if he did not do it immediately; but unable, was\nforced to bear their Scurility, till they came up with them, and found they\nwere two _Moor_ Ships from _Muscat_, with Horses; they brought the Captain\nof them, and Merchants, on Board, torturing them, and rifling the Ships, in\norder to discover Riches, as believing they came from _Mocha_; but being\nbaulked in their Expectation, and next Morning seeing Land, and at the same\nTime a Fleet in Shore plying to Windward, they were puzzled how to dispose\nof them; to let them go, was to discover and ruin the Voyage, and it was\ncruel to sink the Men and Horses with the Ships, (as many of them were\ninclined to,) therefore, as a Medium, they brought them to an Anchor, threw\nall their Sails over-board, and cut one of the Ships Masts half through.\nWhile they lay at an Anchor, and were all the next Day employed in taking\nout Water, one of the aforementioned Fleet bore towards them with _English_\nColours, answered with a red Ensign from the Pyrates, but did not speak\nwith one another. At Night they left the _Muscatt_ Ships, weighed with the\nSea Wind, and stood to the Northward after this Fleet: About four next\nMorning, just as they were getting under sail, with the Land Wind, the\nPyrates came amongst them, made no stop, but fired their great and small\nGuns very briskly, till they got through; and as Day-Light cleared, were in\na great Consternation in their Minds, having all along taken them for\n_Angria_'s Fleet; what to do was the Point, whether run or pursue? They\nwere sensible of their Inferiority of Strength, having no more than 300 Men\nin both Ships, and 40 of them Negroes; besides, the _Victory_ had then four\nPumps at Work, and must inevitably been lost before, had it not been for\nsome Hand-Pumps, and several pair of Standards brought out of the\n_Cassandra_, to relieve and strengthen her; but observing the Indifferency\nof the Fleet, chose rather to chase than run; and thought the best Way to\nsave themselves, was to play at Bullbeggar with the Enemy: So they came up\nwith the Sea Wind, about Gun-Shot to Leeward, the great Ships of the Fleet\na-head, and some others a-stern; which latter they took for Fire-Vessels:\nAnd these a-head gaining from them by cutting away their Boats, they could\ndo nothing more than continue their Course all Night, which they did, and\nfound them next Morning out of Sight, excepting a Ketch and some few\nGallivats, (_small sort of Vessels something like the Feluccas of the_\nMediterranean, _and hoists, like them, triangular Sails_.) They bore down,\nwhich the Ketch perceiving, transported her People on Board a Gallivat, and\nset fire to her; the other proved too nimble and made off. The same Day\nthey chased another Gallivat and took her, being come from _Gogo_, bound\nfor _Callicut_ with Cotton. Of these Men they enquired concerning the\nFleet, supposing they must have been in it; and altho' they protested they\nhad not seen a Ship or Boat since they left _Gogo_, and pleaded very\nearnestly for Favour; yet they threw all their Cargo over-board, and\nsquezed their Joints in a Vice, to extort Confession: But they entirely\nignorant of who or what this Fleet should be, were obliged not only to\nsustain this Torment, but next Day a fresh easterly Wind having split the\nGallivats Sails, they put her Company into the Boat, with nothing but a\nTrysail, no Provisions, and only four Gallons of Water, (half of it Salt,)\nand then out of Sight of Land, to shift for themselves.\nFor the better elucidating of this Story, it may be convenient to inform\nthe Reader, who _Angria_ is, and what the Fleet were, that had so scurvily\nbehaved themselves.\n_Angria_ is a famous _Indian_ Pyrate, of considerable Strength and\nTerritories, that gives continual Disturbance to the _European_ (and\nespecially the _English_) Trade: His chief Hold is _Callaba_, not many\nLeagues from _Bombay_, and has one Island in Sight of that Port, whereby he\ngains frequent Opportunities of annoying the Company. It would not be so\ninsuperable a Difficulty to suppress him, if the Shallowness of the Water\ndid not prevent Ships of War coming nigh: And a better Art he has, of\nbribing the _Mogul_'s Ministers for Protection, when he finds an Enemy too\npowerful.\nIn the Year 1720, the _Bombay_ Fleet consisting of four _Grabbs, (Ships\nbuilt in_ India _by the Company, and have three Masts, a Prow like a\nRow-Galley, instead of a Boltsprit, about_ 150 _Tons; are officered and\narmed like a Man of War, for Defence and Protection of the Trade,)_ the\n_London, Chandois_, and two other Ships with Gallivats, who besides their\nproper Compliments, carried down 1000 Men to bombard and batter _Gayra_, a\nFort belonging to _Angria_, on the _Malabar_ Coast, which they having\nperformed ineffectually, were returning to _Bombay_, and, to make amends,\nfell in with the Pyrates, to the Purpose has been already related. Captain\n_Upton_, Commadore of that Fleet, prudently objecting to Mr. _Brown_, (who\nwent General,) That the Ships were not to be hazarded, since they sailed\nwithout their Governor _Boon_'s Orders to engage; and besides, that they\ndid not come out with such a Design. This favourable Opportunity of\ndestroying the Pyrates, angered the Governor, and he transferred the\nCommand of the Fleet to Captain _Mackra_, who had Orders immediately to\npursue and engage, where ever he met them.\nThe Vice-Roy of _Goa_, assisted by the _English_ Company's Fleet from\n_Bombay_, did attempt the Reduction of _Callaba_, his principal Place,\nlanded 8 or 10000 Men the next Year, the _English_ Squadron of Men of War\nbeing then in those Seas; but having viewed the Fortification well, and\nexpended some of their Army by Sickness and the Fatigues of a Camp,\ncarefully withdrew again.\nI return to the Pyrates, who, after they had sent away the Gallivats\nPeople, resolved to cruise to the Southward; and the next Day, between\n_Goa_ and _Carwar_, heard several Guns, which brought them to an Anchor,\nand they sent their Boat on the Scent, who returned about two in the\nMorning, and brought Word of two Grabs lying at Anchor in the Road. They\nweighed and ran towards the Bay, till Day-Light gave the Grabs Sight of\nthem, and was but just Time enough to get under _India Diva_ Castle, out of\ntheir reach; this displeased the Pyrates the more, in that they wanted\nWater; and some were for making a Descent that Night and taking the Island,\nbut it not being approved of by the Majority, they proceeded to the\nSouthward, and took next in their Way, a small Ship out of _Onnore_ Road,\nwith only a _Dutch_ Man and two _Portuguese_ on Board. They sent one of\nthese on Shore to the Captain, to acquaint him, if he would supply them\nwith some Water, and fresh Provisions, he should have his Ship again; and\nthe Master returned for answer, by his Mate _Frank Harmless_, that if they\nwould deliver him Possession over the Bar, he would comply with their\nRequest; the Proposal the Mate thought was collusive, and they rather\njump'd into _Harmless_'s Opinion, (who very honestly entered with them,)\nand resolved to seek Water at the _Laccadeva_ Islands; so having sent the\nother Persons on Shore, with threats, that he should be the last Man they\nwould give Quarter too, (by Reason of this uncivil Usage;) they put\ndirectly for the Islands, and arrived there in three Days: Where being\ninformed by a Menchew they took (with the Governor of _Canwars_ Pass,) of\nthere being no Anchor-Ground among them, and _Melinda_ being the next\nconvenient Island, they sent their Boats on Shore, to see if there was any\nWater, and whether it was inhabited or not; who returned with an Answer to\ntheir Satisfaction, _viz._ that there was abundance of good Water, and many\nHouses, but deserted by the Men, who had fled to the neighbouring Islands\non the Approach of Ships, and left only the Women and Children to guard one\nanother. The Women they forced in a Barbarous Manner to their Lusts, and to\nrequire them, destroyed their Cocoa Trees, and fired several of their\nHouses and _Churches_. (I suppose built by the _Portuguese_, who formerly\nused there, in their Voyages to _India_.)\nWhile they were at this Island, they lost three or four Anchors, by the\nRockyness of the Ground, Freshness of Winds, and at last were forced thence\nby a harder Gale than ordinary, leaving 70 People, Blacks and Whites, and\nmost of their Water Casks: In ten Days they regained the Island again,\nfilled their Water, and took the People on Board.\nProvisions were very scarce, and they now resolved to visit their good\nFriends the _Dutch_, at _Cochin_, who, if you will believe these Rogues,\nnever fail of supplying Gentlemen of their Profession. After three Days\nsail, they arrived off _Tellechery_, and took a small Vessel belonging to\nGovernor _Adams, John Tawke_ Master, whom they brought on Board very drunk,\nand he giving an Account of Captain _Mackra_'s fitting out, put them in a\nTempest of Passion: _A Villain_, say they, _that we have treated so\ncivilly, as to give him a Ship and other Presents, and now to be armed\nagainst us, he ought to be hanged; and since we cannot show our Resentment\non him, let us hang the Dogs his People, who wish him well, and would do\nthe same, if clear. If it be in my Power_, says the Quarter-Master, _both\nMasters and Officers of Ships shall be carried with us for the future, only\nto plague them. --d--n_ England.\nThence they proceeded to _Calicut_, where they endeavoured to take a large\n_Moor_ Ship out of the Road, but was prevented by some Guns mounted on\nShore, and discharged at them: Mr. _Lasinby_, who was one of Captain\n_Mackra_'s Officers, and detained, was under the Deck at this Time, and\ncommanded both by the Captain and Quarter Master of the Pyrates, to tend\nthe Braces on the Booms, in hopes, it was believed, a Shot would take him\nbefore they got clear, asking the Reason why he was not there before? And\nwhen he would have excused himself, threat'ned on the like Neglect to shoot\nhim; at which the other beginning to expostulate farther, and claim their\nPromise of putting him ashore, got an unmerciful beating from the\nQuarter-Master. Captain _Taylor_, who was now Successor to _England_, and\nwhose Priviledge it was to do so, being lame of his Hands, and unable.\nThe next Day in their Passage down, came up with a _Dutch_ Galliot, bound\nfor _Calicut_ with Lime Stone, and aboard of her they put Captain _Tawke_,\nand sent him away, and several of the People interceeded for _Lasinby_ in\nvain, _For_, says _Taylor_ and his Party, _if we let this Dog go, who has\nheard our Designs and Resolutions, we overset all our well advised\nProjections, and particularly this Supply we are now seeking for, at the\nHands of the_ Dutch.\nIt was but one Day more before they arrived off _Cochin_, where, by a\nFishing-Canoe, they sent a Letter on Shore; and in the Afternoon, with the\nSea-breeze, ran into the Road and anchored, saluting the Fort with 11 Guns\neach Ship, and received the Return, in an equal Number; a good Omen of the\nwelcome Reception they found; for at Night there came on Board a large\nBoat, deeply laden with fresh Provisions and Liquors, and with it a Servant\n(of a favourite Inhabitant) called _John Trumpet_: He told them they must\nimmediately weigh, and run farther to the Southward, where they should be\nsupplied with all Things they wanted, naval Stores or Provisions.\nThey had not been long at Anchor again, before they had several Canoes on\nBoard with both black and white Inhabitants, who continued, without\nInterruption, all good Offices, during their Stay; particularly _John\nTrumpet_ brought a large Boat of Arrack, than which, nothing could be more\npleasing (about 90 Legers,) as also 60 Bales of Sugar; an Offering, its\npresumed, from the Governor and his Daughter, who, in Return, had a fine\nTable-Clock sent him, (the Plunder of Captain _Mackra_'s Ship,) and she a\nlarge Gold Watch, Earnests of the Pay they designed to make.\nWhen they had all on Board, they paid Mr. _Trumpet_ to his Satisfaction, it\nwas computed, 6 or 7000 _l._ gave him three Cheers, 11 Guns each Ship, and\nthrow'd Ducatoons into his Boat by handfuls, for the Boat-Men to scramble\nfor.\nThat Night being little Wind, did not weigh, and _Trumpet_, in the Morning,\nwaked them to the Sight of more Arrack, Chests of Piece-Goods, and ready\nmade Clothes, bringing the Fiscal of the Place also with him. At Noon,\nwhile those were on Board, saw a Sail to the Southward, which they weighed,\nand chaced after; but she having a good Offing, got to the Northward of\nthem, and anchored a small Distance from _Cochin_ Fort; the aforementioned\nGentlemen assuring them, that they would not be molested in taking her from\nunder the Castle, sollicited before hand for the buying her, and advised\nthem to stand in, which they did boldly, to board her; but when they came\nwithin a Cable's length or two of the Chace, now near Shore, the Fort fired\ntwo small Guns, whose Shot falling nigh their Muzzels, they instantly bore\nout of the Road, made an easy Sail to the Southward, and anchored at Night\nin their former Birth, where _John Trumpet_, to engage their Stay a little\nlonger, informed them, that in a few Days a very rich Ship was to pass by,\ncommanded by the General of _Bombay_'s Brother.\nThis Governor is an Emblem of foreign Power. What Inconvenience and Injury\nmust the Master's Subjects sustain under one who can truckle to such\ntreacherous and base Means, as corresponding and trading with Pyrates to\nenrich himself? Certainly such a Man will stickle at no Injustice to repair\nor make a Fortune. He has the _Argumentum bacillum_ always in his own\nHands, and can convince, when he pleases, in half the Time of other\nArguments, that Fraud and Oppression is Law. That he imploys Instruments in\nsuch dirty Work, expresses the Guilt and Shame, but no way mitigates the\nCrime. _John Trumpet_ was the Tool; but, as the Dog said in the Fable, on\nanother Occasion, _What is done by the Master's Orders, is the Master's\nActions_.\nI cannot but reflect, on this Occasion, what a vile Government _Sancho\nPancho_ had of it; he had not only such _Perquisites_ rescinded, but was\nreally almost starved; the Victuals taken from him almost every Day, and\nonly under a Pretence of preserving his Excellency's Health: But\nGovernments differ.\nFrom _Cochin_ some were for proceeding to _Madagascar_ directly; others\nthought it proper to cruize till they got a Store-Ship, and these being the\nMajority, they ply'd to the Southward, and after some Days saw a Ship in\nShore, which being to Windward of them, they could not get nigh, till the\nSea Wind, and Night, favouring, they separated, one to the Northward, the\nother to the Southward, thinking to enclose her between: But to their\nAstonishment, and contrary to Expectation, when Day broke, instead of the\nChace, found themselves very near five Sail of tall Ships, who immediately\nmaking a Signal for the Pyrates to bear down, put them in the utmost\nConfusion, particularly _Taylor_'s Ship, because their Consort was at a\nDistance from them, (at least three Leagues to the Southward) they stood to\none another, and joined, and then together made the best of their Way from\nthe Fleet, whom they judged to be commanded by Captain _Mackra_; of whose\nCourage having Experience, they were glad to shun any farther Taste of.\nIn three Hours Chace, none of the Fleet gaining upon them, excepting one\nGrab, their dejected Countenances cleared up again, the more, in that a\nCalm succeeded for the Remainder of that Day; and in the Night, with the\nLand Wind, they ran directly off Shore, and found next Day, to their great\nConsolation, that they had lost Sight of all the Fleet.\nThis Danger escaped, they proposed to spend _Christmas_ (the _Christmas_ of\n1720) in Carowzing and Forgetfulness, and kept it for three Days in a\nwanton and riotous Way, not only eating, but wasting their fresh Provisions\nin so wretched and inconsiderable a Manner, that when they had agreed after\nthis to proceed to _Mauritius_, they were in that Passage at an Allowance\nof a Bottle of Water _per Diem_, and not above two Pounds of Beef, and a\nsmall Quantity of Rice, for ten Men for a Day; so that had it not been for\nthe leaky Ship, (which once they were about to have quitted, and had done,\nbut for a Quantity of Arrack and Sugar She had on Board,) they must most of\nthem have perished.\nIn this Condition they arrived at the Island of _Mauritius_, about the\nMiddle of _February_, sheathed and refitted the _Victory_, and on the 5th\nof _April_ sailed again, leaving this terrible Inscription on one of the\nWalls. _Left this Place the_ 5_th of_ April, _to go to_ Madagascar _for\nLimes_, and this, least (like Lawyers and Men of Business) any Visits\nshould be paid in their Absence: However, they did not sail directly for\n_Madagascar_, but the Island _Mascarine_, and luckily as Rogues could wish,\nthey found at their Arrival on the 8th, a _Portuguese_ Ship at Anchor, of\n70 Guns, but most of them thrown overboard, her Masts lost, and so much\ndisabled by a violent Storm they had met with in the Latitude of 13\u00b0 South,\nthat she became a Prize to the Pyrates, with very little or no Resistance,\nand a glorious one indeed, having the _Conde de Ericeira_, Viceroy of\n_Goa_, who made that fruitless Expedition against _Angria_, the _Indian_,\nand several other Passengers on Board; who, as they could not be ignorant\nof the Treasure she had in, did assert, that in the single Article of\nDiamonds, there was to the Value of between three and four Millions of\nDollars.\nThe Vice-Roy, who came on Board that Morning, in Expectation of the Ships\nbeing _English_, was made a Prisoner, and obliged to ransome; but in\nConsideration of his great Loss, (the Prize being Part his own,) they\nagreed after some Demurrings, to accept of 2000 Dollars, and set him and\nthe other Prisoners ashore, with Promises to leave a Ship that they might\nTransport themselves, because the Island was not thought in a Condition to\nmaintain so great a Number; and tho' they had learned from them, the\nAccount of an _Ostender_ being to Leeward of the Island, which they took on\nthat Information, (being formerly the _Greyhound_ Galley of _London_,) and\ncould conveniently have comply'd with so reasonable a Request; yet they\nsent the _Ostender_ with some of their People to _Madagascar_, with News of\ntheir Success, and to prepare Masts for the Prize; and followed themselves\nsoon after, without regard to the Sufferers, carrying 200 _Mozambique_\nNegroes with them in the _Portuguese_ Ship.\n_Madagascar_ is an Island larger than _Great-Britain_, most of it within\nthe Tropick of _Capricorn_, and lays East from the Eastern Side of\n_Africa_: It abounds with Provisions of all Sorts, Oxen, Goats, Sheep,\nPoultry, Fish, Citrons, Oranges, Tamarinds, Dates, Coco-Nuts, Bananas, Wax,\nHoney, Rice; or in short, Cotton, Indigo, or any other Thing they will take\nPains to plant, and have Understanding to manage: They have likewise Ebony,\na hard Wood like Brasil, of which they make their Lances; and Gum of\nseveral Sorts, Benzin, Dragon's Blood, Aloes, _&c_. What is most\nincommodious, are the numerous Swarms of Locusts on the Land, and\nCrocodiles or Alligators in their Rivers. Hither, in St. _Augustin_'s Bay,\nthe Ships sometimes touch for Water, when they take the inner Passage for\n_India_, and do not design to stop at _Johanna_; and we may observe from\nthe sixth general Voyage set forth by the _East-India_ Company, in\nConfirmation of what is hereafter said in Relation to Currents in general;\nthat this inner Passage or Channel, has its Northern and Southern Currents\nstrongest where the Channel is narrowest, and is less, and varies on\ndifferent Points of the Compass, as the Sea comes to spread again, in the\nPassage cross the Line.\nSince the Discovery of this Island by the _Portuguese, A. D._ 1506, the\n_Europeans_, and particularly Pyrates, have increased a dark Mulatto Race\nthere, tho' still few in Comparison with the Natives, who are Negroes, with\ncurled short Hair, Active, and formerly represented malicious and\nrevengeful, now tractable and communicable, perhaps owing to the Favours\nand Generosity in Cloathing and Liquors, they from Time to Time have\nreceived from these Fellows, who live in all possible Friendship, and can,\nany single Man of them, command a Guard of 2 or 300 at a Minute's warning:\nThis is farther the Native's Interest, to cultivate with them, because the\nIsland being divided into petty Governments and Commands, the Pyrates,\nsettled here, who are now a considerable Number, and have little Castles of\ntheir own, can preponderate where-ever they think fit to side.\nWhen _Taylor_ came with the _Portuguese_ Prize here, they found the\n_Ostender_ had played their Men a Trick, for they took Advantage of their\nDrink, rise upon them, and (as they heard afterwards) carried the Ship to\n_Mozambique_, whence the Governor ordered her for _Goa_.\nHere the Pyrates came, cleaned the _Cassandra_, and divided their Plunder,\nsharing 42 small Diamonds a Man, or in less Proportion according to their\nMagnitude. An ignorant, or a merry Fellow, who had only, one in this\nDivision, as being judged equal, in Value to 42 small, muttered very much\nat the Lot, and went and broke it in a Morter, swearing afterwards, he had\na better Share than any of them, for he had beat it, he said, into 43\nSparks.\nThose who were not for running the Hazard of their Necks, with 42 Diamonds,\nbesides other Treasure, in their Pockets, knocked off, and stay'd with\ntheir old Acquaintance at _Madagascar_, on mutual Agreements, the longer\nLivers to take all. The Residue having therefore no Occasion for two Ships,\nthe _Victory_ being leaky, she was burnt, the Men (as many as would) coming\ninto the _Cassandra_, under the Command of _Taylor_, who we must leave a\nTime, projecting either for _Cochin_, to dispose of their Diamonds among\ntheir old Friends the _Dutch_, or else for the _Red_ or _China_ Seas, to\navoid the Men of War, that continually clamoured in their Ears, a Noise of\nDanger, and give the _little_ Account we are able, of that Squadron, who\narrived in _India_, early in the Year 1721.\nAt _Cape Good Hope_, in _June_, the Commadore met with a Letter, which was\nleft for him by the Governor of _Madras_, to whom it was wrote by the\nGovernor of _Pandicherry_, a _French_ Factory, on the _Coromondel_ Coast,\nsignifying, the Pyrates at the Writing of it, were then strong in the\n_Indian_ Seas, having 11 Sail and 1500 Men, but that many of them went away\nabout that Time, for the Coast of _Brazil_ and _Guinea_; others settled and\nfortified themselves at _Madagascar, Mauritius, Johanna_ and _Mohilla_: And\nthat others under _Conden_, in a Ship called the _Dragon_, took a large\n_Moor_'s Vessel, coming from _Iudda_ and _Mocho_, with thirteen Lackies of\nRupees on Board, (_i. e._ 1300000 half Crowns,) who having divided the\nPlunder, burnt their Ship and Prize, and sat down quietly with their other\nFriends at _Madagascar_.\nThe Account contain'd several other Things which we have before\nrelated.--Commadore _Matthews_, upon receiving this Intelligence, and being\nfond of the Service he came out for, hastened to those Islands, as the most\nhopeful Places of Success; at St. _Mary_'s would have engaged _England_\nwith Promises of Favour, if he would communicate what he knew, concerning\nthe _Cassandra_, and the rest of the Pyrates, and assist in the Pilotage;\nbut _England_ was wary, and thought this was to _surrender at Discretion_,\nso they took up the _Judda_ Ship's Guns that was burnt, and the Men of War\ndispersed themselves on several Voyages and Cruises afterwards, as was\nthought likeliest to succeed, tho' to no Purpose: Then the Squadron went\ndown to _Bombay_, were saluted by the Fort, and came home.\nThe Pyrates, I mean those of the _Cassandra_, now Captain _Taylor_, fitted\nthe _Portuguese_ Man of War, and resolved upon another Voyage to the\n_Indies_, notwithstanding the Riches they had heaped up; but as they were\npreparing to sail, they heard of the four Men of War coming after them to\nthose Seas, therefore they altered their Minds, sail'd for the Main of\n_Africa_, and put in at a little Place called _Delagoa_, near the River _de\nSpiritu Sancto_, on the Coast of _Monomotapa_, in 26\u00b0 South Latitude. They\nbelieved this to be a Place of Security, in regard that the Squadron could\nnot possibly get Intelligence of them, there being no Correspondence over\nLand, nor any Trade carried on by Sea, between that and the Cape, where the\nMen of War were then supposed to be. The Pyrates came to in the Evening,\nand were surprized with a few Shot from the Shore, not knowing of any\nFortification or _European_ Settlement in that Part of the World; so they\nanchored at a Distance that Night, and perceiving, in the Morning, a small\nFort of six Guns, they run up to it, and battered it down.\nThis Fort was built and settled by the _Dutch East-India_ Company, a few\nMonths before, for what Purpose, I know not, and having left 150 Men upon\nthe Place, they were then dwindled to a third Part by Sickness and\nCasualties, and never after received any Relief or Necessaries; so that\nSixteen of those that were left, upon their humble Petition, were admitted\non Board the Pyrates, and all the rest would have had the same Favour (they\nsaid) had they been any other than _Dutch_. I mention this, as an Instance\nof their Ingratitude, who had been so much obliged to their Countrymen for\nSupport.\nHere they staid above four Months, carreened both their Ships, and took\ntheir Diversions with Security, till they had expended all their\nProvisions, and then put to Sea, leaving considerable Quantities of\nMuslins, Chintzes, and such Goods behind, to the half starved _Dutch_ Men,\nwhich enabled them to make good Pennyworths to the next that came, to whom\nthey bartered for Provisions, at the Rate of three Farthings an _English_\nYard.\nThey left _Delagoa_ the latter End of _December_ 1722, but not agreeing\nwhere, or how to proceed, they concluded to part, so those who were for\ncontinuing that sort of Life, went on Board the _Portuguese_ Prize, and\nsteered for _Madagascar_ to their Friends, with whom I hear they are now\nsettled; and the rest took the _Cassandra_ and sailed for the _Spanish\nWest-Indies_. The _Mermaid_ Man of War happening then to be down on the\nMain with a Convoy, about 30 Leagues from these Pyrates, would have gone\nand attacked them; but on a Consultation of the Masters, whose Safety he\nwas particularly to regard, they agreed their own Protection was of more\nService than destroying the Pyrate, and so the Commander was unwillingly\nwithheld. He dispatched a Sloop to _Jamaica_, with the News, which brought\ndown the _Lanceston_, only a Day, or two, too late, they having just before\nhe came, surrendered with all their Riches, to the Governor of _Porto\nBello_.\nHere they sate down to spend the Fruits of their dishonest Industry,\ndividing the Spoil and Plunder of Nations among themselves, without the\nleast Remorse or Compunction, satisfying their Conscience with this Salvo,\nthat other People would have done as much, had they the like Opportunities.\nI can't say, but that if they had known what was doing in _England_, at the\nsame Time by the _South-Sea_ Directors, and their Directors, they would\ncertainly have had this Reflection for their Consolation, _viz. That what\never Robberies they had committed, they might be pretty sure they were not\nthe greatest Villains then living in the World_.\nIt is a difficult Matter to make a Computation of the Mischief that was\ndone by this Crew, in about five Years Time, which is much more than the\nPlunder they gained, for they often sunk or burnt the Vessel they took, as\nit suited their Humour or Circumstances, sometimes to prevent giving\nIntelligence, sometimes because they did not leave Men to navigate them,\nand at other Times out of Wantonness, or because they were displeased at\nthe Master's Behaviour; for any of these, it was but to give the Word, and\ndown went Ships and Cargoes to the Bottom of the Sea.\nSince their Surrender to the _Spaniards_, I am informed several of them\nhave left the Place, and dispersed themselves elsewhere; eight of them were\nshipp'd about _November_ last, in one of the _South-Sea_ Company's Assiento\nSloops, and passed for Ship-wreck'd Men, came to _Jamaica_, and there\nsailed in other Vessels; and I know one of them that came to _England_ this\nSpring from that Island. 'Tis said that Captain _Taylor_ has taken a\nCommission in the _Spanish_ Service, and commanded the Man of War that\nlately attack'd the _English_ Log-Wood Cutters, in the Bay of _Honduras_.\nCHAP. VI. OF Captain _Charles Vane_, And his CREW.\nC_Harles Vane_ was one of those who stole away the Silver which the\n_Spaniards_ had fished up from the Wrecks of the Galleons, in the Gulph of\n_Florida_, and was at _Providence_ (as has been before hinted) when\nGovernor _Rogers_ arrived there with two Men of War.\nAll the Pyrates who were found at this Colony of Rogues, submitted, and\nreceived Certificates of their Pardon, except Captain _Vane_ and his Crew;\nwho, as soon as they saw the Men of War enter, slipp'd their Cable, set\nFire to a Prize they had in the Harbour, and sailed out with their\npyratical Colours flying, firing at one of the Men of War as they went off.\nTwo Days after they went out, they met with a Sloop belonging to\n_Barbadoes_, which they made Prize of, and kept the Vessel for their own\nUse, putting aboard five and twenty Hands, with one _Yeats_ to command\nthem. A Day or two afterwards they fell in with a small interloping Trader,\nwith a Quantity of _Spanish_ Pieces of Eight aboard, bound into\n_Providence_, called the _John_ and _Elizabeth_, which they also took along\nwith them. With these two Sloops _Vane_ went to a small Island and cleaned;\nwhere they shared their Booty, and spent some Time in a riotous Manner of\nLiving, as is the Custom of Pyrates.\nThe latter End of _May_ 1718, they sail'd, and being in want of Provisions,\nthey beat up for the Windward Islands, and met with a _Spanish_ Sloop bound\nfrom _Porto Rico_ to the _Havana_, which they burnt, and stowed the\n_Spaniards_ in a Boat, and left them to get to the Island, by the Light of\ntheir Vessel. But steering between St. _Christopher_'s and _Anguilla_, they\nfell in with a Brigantine and a Sloop, with the Cargo they wanted; from\nwhom they got Provisions for Sea-Store.\nSometime after this, standing to the Northward, in the Track the\n_Old-England_ Ships take, in their Voyage to the _American_ Colonies, they\ntook several Ships and Vessels, which they plundered of what they thought\nfit, and let them pass.\nThe latter End of _August, Vane_, with his Consort _Yeats_, came off\n_South-Carolina_, and took a Ship belonging to _Ipswich_, one _Coggershall_\nCommander, laden with Logwood, which was thought convenient enough for\ntheir own Business, and therefore ordered their Prisoners to work, and\nthrow all the Lading over-board; but when they had more than half cleared\nthe Ship, the Whim changed, and then they would not have her; so\n_Coggershall_ had his Ship again, and he was suffered to pursue his Voyage\nhome. In this Cruize the Rover took several other Ships and Vessels,\nparticularly a Sloop from _Barbadoes, Dill_ Master; a small Ship from\n_Antegoa, Cock_ Master; a Sloop belonging to _Curacco, Richards_ Master;\nand a large Brigantine, Captain _Thompson_, from _Guiney_, with ninety odd\nNegroes aboard. The Pyrates plundered them all and let them go, putting the\nNegroes out of the Brigantine aboard of _Yeat_'s Vessel, by which Means\nthey came back again to the right Owners.\nFor Captain _Vane_, having always treated his Consort with very little\nRespect, assuming a Superiority over _Yeats_ and his small Crew, and\nregarding the Vessel but as a Tender to his own; gave them a Disgust, who\nthought themselves as good Pyrates, and as great Rogues as the best of\nthem; so they caball'd together, and resolved to take the first Opportunity\nto leave the Company; and accept of his Majesty's Pardon, or set up for\nthemselves, either of which they thought more honourable than to be\nServants to the former; and the putting aboard so many Negroes, where they\nfound so few Hands to take Care of them, still aggravated the Matter,\nthough they thought fit to conceal or stifle their Resentments at that\nTime.\nA Day or two afterwards, the Pyrates lying off at Anchor, _Yeats_ in the\nEvening slipp'd his Cable, and put his Vessel under Sail, standing into the\nShore; which, when _Vane_ saw, he was highly provoked, and got his Sloop\nunder Sail to chase his Consort, who, he plainly perceived, had a Mind to\nhave no further Affairs with him: _Vane_'s Brigantine sailing best, he\ngained Ground of _Yeats_, and would certainly have come up with him, had he\nhad a little longer Run for it; but just as he got over the Bar, when\n_Vane_ came within Gun-shot of him, he fired a Broadside at his old Friend,\n(which did him no Damage,) and so took his Leave.\n_Yeats_ came into _North Edisto_ River, about ten Leagues Southward of\n_Charles-Town_, and sent an Express to the Governor, to know if he and his\nComrades might have the Benefit of his Majesty's Pardon, and they would\nsurrender themselves to his Mercy, with the Sloops and Negroes; which being\ngranted, they all came up and received Certificates; and Captain\n_Thompson_, from whom the Negroes were taken, had them restored to him, for\nthe Use of his Owners.\n_Vane_ cruised some Time off the Bar, in hopes to catch _Yeats_ at his\ncoming out again, but therein he was disappointed; however, he\nunfortunately for them, took two Ships from _Charles-Town_, bound home to\n_England_. It happen'd that just at this Time two Sloops well mann'd and\narm'd, were equipp'd to go after a Pyrate, which the Governor of\n_South-Carolina_ was informed, lay then in Cape _Fear_ River, a cleaning:\nBut Colonel _Rhet_, who commanded the Sloops, meeting with one of the Ships\nthat _Vane_ had plundered, going back over the Bar, for such Necessaries as\nhad been taken from her, and she giving the Colonel an Account of her being\ntaken by the Pyrate _Vane_, and also, that some of her Men, while they were\nPrisoners on Board of him, had heard the Pyrates say, they should clean in\none of the Rivers to the Southward; he altered his first Design, and\ninstead of standing to the Northward, in pursuit of the Pyrate in Cape\n_Fear_ River, he turns to the Southward after _Vane_; who had ordered such\nReports to be given out, on purpose to send any Force that should come\nafter him, upon a wrong Scent; for in Reality he stood away to the\nNorthward, so that the Pursuit proved to be the contrary Way.\nColonel _Rhet_'s speaking with this Ship, was the most unlucky Thing that\ncould have happened, because it turned him out of the Road, which in all\nProbability, would have brought him into the Company of _Vane_, as well as\nof the Pyrate he went after; and so they might have been both destroy'd;\nwhereas, by the Colonel's going a different Way, he not only lost the\nOpportunity of meeting with one, but if the other had not been infatuated,\nto lye six Weeks together at Cape _Fear_, he would have missed of him\nlikewise: However, the Colonel having searched the Rivers and Inlets, as\ndirected, for several Days, without Success, at length sailed in\nProsecution of his first Design, and met with the Pyrate accordingly, whom\nhe fought and took, as has been before spoken of, in the History of Major\n_Bonnet_.\nCaptain _Vane_ went into an Inlet to the Northward, where he met with\nCaptain _Thatch_, or _Teach_, otherwise call'd _Black-beard_, whom he\nsaluted (when he found who he was) with his great Guns, loaded with Shot,\n(as is the Custom among Pyrates when they meet) which are fired wide, or up\ninto the Air: _Black-beard_ answered the Salute in the same Manner, and\nmutual Civilities passed for some Days; when about the Beginning of\n_October, Vane_ took Leave, and sailed further to the Northward.\nOn the 23d of _October_, off of _Long Island_, he took a small Brigantine,\nbound from _Jamaica_ to _Salem_ in _New-England, John Shattock_ Master, and\na little Sloop; they rifled the Brigantine, and sent her away. From hence\nthey resolved on a Cruize between Cape _Meise_ and Cape _Nicholas_, where\nthey spent some Time, without seeing or speaking with any Vessel, till the\nlatter End of _November_; then they fell upon a Ship, which 'twas expected\nwould have struck as soon as their black Colours were hoisted; but instead\nof that, she discharged a Broadside upon the Pyrate, and hoisted Colours,\nwhich shewed her to be a _French_ Man of War. _Vane_ desired to have\nnothing further to say to her, but trimm'd his Sails, and stood away from\nthe _French_ Man; but _Monsieur_ having a Mind to be better informed who he\nwas, set all his Sails, and crowded after him. During this Chace, the\nPyrates were divided in their Resolutions what to do: _Vane_, the Captain,\nwas for making off as fast as he could, alledging the Man of War was too\nstrong to cope with; but one _John Rackam_, who was an Officer, that had a\nkind of a Check upon the Captain, rose up in Defence of a contrary Opinion,\nsaying, _That tho' she had more Guns, and a greater Weight of Mettal, they\nmight board her, and then the best Boys would carry the Day. Rackam_ was\nwell seconded, and the Majority was for boarding; but _Vane_ urged, _That\nit was too rash and desperate an Enterprize, the Man of War appearing to be\ntwice their Force; and that their Brigantine might be sunk by her before\nthey could reach on board_. The Mate, one _Robert Deal_, was of _Vane_'s\nOpinion, as were about fifteen more, and all the rest joined with _Rackam_,\nthe Quarter-Master. At length the Captain made use of his Power to\ndetermine this Dispute, which, in these Cases, is absolute and\nuncontroulable, by their own Laws, _viz_. in _fighting, chasing_, or _being\nchased_; in all other Matters whatsoever, he is governed by a Majority; so\nthe Brigantine having the Heels, as they term it, of the _French_ Man, she\ncame clear off.\nBut the next Day, the Captain's Behaviour was obliged to stand the Test of\na Vote, and a Resolution passed against his Honour and Dignity, branding\nhim with the Name of Coward, deposing him from the Command, and turning him\nout of the Company, with Marks of Infamy; and, with him, went all those who\ndid not Vote for boarding the _French_ Man of War. They had with them a\nsmall Sloop that had been taken by them some Time before, which they gave\nto _Vane_, and the discarded Members; and, that they might be in a\nCondition to provide for themselves, by their own honest Endeavours, they\nlet them have a sufficient Quantity of Provisions and Ammunition along with\nthem.\n_John Rackam_ was voted Captain of the Brigantine, in _Vane_'s Room, and\nproceeded towards the _Caribbee Islands_, where we must leave him, till we\nhave finished our Story of _Charles Vane_.\nThe Sloop sailed for the Bay of _Honduras_, and _Vane_ and his Crew put her\ninto as good a Condition as they could by the Way, to follow the old Trade.\nThey cruised two or three Days off the North-West Part of _Jamaica_, and\ntook a Sloop and two Pettiagas, and all the Men entered with them; the\nSloop they kept, and _Robert Deal_ went Captain of her.\nOn the 16th of _December_ the two Sloops came into the Bay, where they\nfound only one at an Anchor, call'd the _Pearl_, of _Jamaica_, Captain\n_Charles Rowling_ Master, who got under Sail at the Sight of them; but the\nPyrate Sloops coming near _Rowling_, and shewing no Colours, he gave them a\nGun or two; whereupon they hoisted the black Flag, and fired three Guns\neach, at the _Pearl_; she struck, and the Pyrates took Possession, and\ncarried her away to a small Island called _Barnacko_, and there they\ncleaned, meeting in the Way with a Sloop from _Jamaica_, Captain _Wallden_\nCommander, going down to the Bay, which they also made Prize of.\nIn _February, Vane_ sailed from _Barnacko_, in order for a Cruize; but some\nDays after he was out, a violent Turnado overtook him, which separated him\nfrom his Consort, and after two Days Distress, threw his Sloop upon a small\nuninhabited Island, near the Bay of _Honduras_, where she was staved to\nPieces, and most of her Men drowned: _Vane_ himself was saved, but reduced\nto great Streights, for want of Necessaries, having no Opportunity to get\nany Thing from the Wreck. He lived here some Weeks, and was subsisted\nchiefly by Fishermen, who frequented the Island with small Craft, from the\nMain, to catch Turtles, _&c_.\nWhile _Vane_ was upon this Island, a Ship put in from _Jamaica_ for Water,\nthe Captain of which, one _Holford_, an old Buccaneer, happened to be\n_Vane_'s Acquaintance; he thought this a good Opportunity to get off, and\naccordingly applied to his old Friend; but he absolutely refused him,\nsaying to him, Charles, _I shan't trust you aboard my Ship, unless I carry\nyou a Prisoner; for I shall have you caballing with my Men, knock me on the\nHead, and run away with my Ship a pyrating. Vane_ made all the\nProtestations of Honour in the World to him; but, it seems, Captain\n_Holford_ was too intimately acquainted with him, to repose any Confidence\nat all in his Words or Oaths. He told him, _He might easily find a Way to\nget off, if he had a Mind to it: I am now going down the Bay_, says he,\n_and shall return hither, in about a Month; and if I find you upon the\nIsland when I come back, I'll carry you to_ Jamaica, _and hang you. Which\nWay can I get away_? Answers _Vane. Are there not Fishermen's Dories upon\nthe Beach? Can't you take one of them_? Replies _Holford. What_, says\n_Vane, would you have me steal a Dory then? Do you make it a Matter of\nConscience_? Said _Holford, to steal a Dory, when you have been a common\nRobber and Pyrate, stealing Ships and Cargoes, and plundering all Mankind\nthat fell in your Way? Stay there, and be d--n'd, if you are so Squeamish_:\nAnd so left him.\nAfter Captain _Holford_'s Departure, another Ship put in to the same Island\nin her Way home for Water; none of whose Company knowing _Vane_, he easily\npassed upon them for another Man, and so was shipp'd for the Voyage. One\nwould be apt to think that _Vane_ was now pretty safe, and likely to escape\nthe Fate which his Crimes had merited; but here a cross Accident happen'd\nthat ruin'd all: _Holford_, returning from the Bay, was met with by this\nShip; the Captains being very well acquainted together, _Holford_ was\ninvited to dine aboard of him, which he did; and as he passed along to the\nCabin, he chanced to cast his Eye down the Hold, and there saw _Charles\nVane_ at work; he immediately spoke to the Captain, saying, _Do you know\nwho you have got aboard here? Why_, says he, _I have shipp'd a Man at such\nan Island, who was cast away in a trading Sloop, he seems to be a brisk\nHand. I tell you_, says Captain _Holford, it is_ Vane _the notorious\nPyrate. If it be him_, replies the other, _I won't keep him: Why then_,\nsays _Holford, I'll send and take him aboard, and surrender him at_\nJamaica. Which being agreed to, Captain _Holford_, as soon as he returned\nto his Ship, sent his Boat with his Mate armed, who coming to _Vane_,\nshewed him a Pistol, and told him, _He was his Prisoner_; which none\nopposing, he was brought aboard, and put in Irons; and when Captain\n_Holford_ arrived at _Jamaica_, he delivered his old Acquaintance into the\nHands of Justice; at which Place he was try'd, convicted, and executed, as\nwas, some Time before, _Vane_'s Consort, _Robert Deal_, brought thither by\none of the Men of War.\nCHAP. VII. OF Captain _John Rackam_, And his CREW.\nTHIS _John Rackam_, as has been mentioned in the last Chapter, was\nQuarter-Master to _Vane_'s Company, till they were divided, and _Vane_\nturned out for refusing to board and fight the _French_ Man of War; then\n_Rackam_ was voted Captain of that Division that remained in the\nBrigantine. The 24th of _November_ 1718, was the first Day of his Command,\nand his first Cruize was among the _Caribbee Islands_, where he took and\nplunder'd several Vessels.\nWe have already taken Notice, that when Captain _Woodes Rogers_ went to the\nIsland of _Providence_, with the King's Pardon to such as should surrender,\nthis Brigantine, which _Rackam_ now commanded, made its Escape, thro'\nanother Passage, bidding Defiance to Mercy.\nTo Windward of _Jamaica_, a _Madera_ Man fell into the Pyrates Way, which\nthey detained two or three Days, till they had made their Market out of\nher, and then gave her back to the Master, and permitted one _Hosea\nTisdell_, a Tavern-Keeper at _Jamaica_, who had been pick'd up in one of\ntheir Prizes, to depart in her, she being then bound for that Island.\nAfter this Cruize, they went into a small Island and cleaned, and spent\ntheir _Christmas_ ashore, drinking and carousing as long as they had any\nLiquor left, and then went to Sea again for more, where they succeeded but\ntoo well, though they took no extraordinary Prize, for above two Months,\nexcept a Ship laden with Thieves from _Newgate_, bound for the Plantations,\nwhich, in a few Days, was retaken with all her Cargo, by an _English_ Man\nof War.\n_Rackam_ stood off towards the Island of _Burmudas_, and took a Ship bound\nto _England_ from _Carolina_, and a small Pink from _New-England_, and\nbrought them to the _Bahama_ Islands, where with the Pitch, Tar, and\nStores, they clean'd again, and refitted their own Vessel; but staying too\nlong in that Neighbourhood, Captain _Rogers_, who was Governor of\n_Providence_, hearing of these Ships being taken, sent out a Sloop well\nmann'd and arm'd, which retook both the Prizes, and in the mean while the\nPyrate had the good Fortune to escape.\nFrom hence they sailed to the Back of _Cuba_, where _Rackam_ kept a little\nkind of a Family, at which Place, they staid a considerable Time, living\nashore with their Dalilahs, till their Money and Provision were expended,\nand then they concluded it Time to look out: They repaired to their Vessel,\nand was making ready to put Sea, when a _Guarda del Costa_ came in with a\nsmall _English_ Sloop, which she had taken as an Interloper on the Coast.\nThe _Spanish_ Guardship attack'd the Pyrate, but _Rackam_ being close in\nbehind a little Island, she could do but little Execution where she lay,\ntherefore the _Spaniard_ warps into the Channel that Evening, in order to\nmake sure of her the next Morning. _Rackam_ finding his Case desperate, and\nhardly any Possibility of escaping, resolved to attempt the following\nEnterprize: The _Spanish_ Prize lying for better Security close into the\nLand, between the little Island and the Main; _Rackam_ takes his Crew into\nthe Boat, with their Pistols and Cutlashes, rounds the little Island, and\nfalls aboard their Prize silently in the dead of the Night, without being\ndiscovered, telling the _Spaniards_ that were aboard of her, that if they\nspoke a Word, or made the least Noise, they were dead Men, and so became\nMaster of her; when this was done, he slipt her Cable, and drove out to\nSea: The _Spanish_ Man of War, was so intent upon their expected Prize,\nthat they minded nothing else, and assoon as Day broke, made a furious Fire\nupon the empty Sloop, but it was not long before they were rightly apprized\nof the Matter, and cursed themselves for Fools, to be bit out of a good\nrich Prize, as she prov'd to be, and to have nothing but an old crazy Hull\nin the room of her.\n_Rackam_ and his Crew had no Occasion to be displeased at the Exchange,\nthat enabled them to continue some Time longer in a Way of Life that suited\ntheir depraved Tempers: In _August_ 1720, we find him at Sea again,\nscouring the Harbours and Inlets of the North and West Parts of _Jamaica_,\nwhere he took several small Craft, which proved no great Booty to the\nRovers, but they had but few Men, and therefore they were obliged to run at\nlow Game, till they could encrease their Company.\nIn the Beginning of _September_, they took seven or eight Fishing-Boats in\n_Harbour Island_, stole their Nets and other Tackle, and then went off the\n_French_ Part of _Hispaniola_, and landed, and took Cattle away, with two\nor three _French_ Men they found near the Water-Side, hunting of wild Hogs\nin the Evening: The _French_ Men came on Board, whether by Consent or\nCompulsion, I can't say. They afterwards plundered two Sloops, and returned\nto _Jamaica_, on the North Coast of which Island, near _Porto Maria_ Bay,\nthey took a Scooner, _Thomas Spenlow_ Master; it was then the 19th of\n_October_. The next Day, _Rackam_ seeing a Sloop in _Dry Harbour_ Bay, he\nstood in and fired a Gun; the Men all run ashore, and he took the Sloop and\nLading, but when those ashore found them to be Pyrates, they hailed the\nSloop, and let them know they were all willing to come aboard of them.\n_Rackam_'s coasting the Island in this Manner, proved fatal to him, for\nIntelligence came to the Governor, of his Expedition, by a Canoa which he\nhad surprized ashore, in _Ocho_ Bay; upon which a Sloop was immediately\nfitted out, and sent round the Island in quest of him, commanded by Captain\n_Barnet_, with a good Number of Hands. _Rackam_ rounding the Island, and\ndrawing near the Westermost Point, called Point _Negril_, saw a small\nPettiauger, which at sight of the Sloop, run ashore and landed her Men;\nwhen one of them hailed her, Answer was made, _They were_ English _Men_,\nand desired the Pettiauger's Men to come on Board, and drink a Bowl of\nPunch, which they were prevailed upon to do; accordingly the Company came\nall aboard of the Pyrate, consisting of nine Persons, in an ill Hour; they\nwere armed with Muskets and Cutlashes, but, what was their real Design by\nso doing, I shall not take upon me to say; but they had no sooner laid down\ntheir Arms, and taken up their Pipes, but _Barnet_'s Sloop, which was in\nPursuit of _Rackam_'s, came in Sight.\nThe Pyrates finding she stood directly towards her, fear'd the Event, and\nweighed their Anchor, which they but lately let go, and stood off: Captain\n_Barnet_ gave them Chace, and having the Advantage of little Breezes of\nWind, which blew off the Land, came up with her, and, after a very small\nDispute, took her, and brought her into _Port Royal_, in _Jamaica_.\nIn about a Fortnight after the Prisoners were brought ashore, _viz.\nNovember_ 16, 1720, a Court of Admiralty was held at St. _Jago de la Vega_,\nbefore which the following Persons were convicted, and Sentence of Death\npassed upon them, by the President, Sir _Nicholas Laws, viz. John Rackam_\nCaptain, _George Fetherston_ Master, _Richard Corner_ Quarter-Master, _John\nDavis, John Howell, Patrick Carty, Thomas Earl, James Dobbin_ and _Noah\nHarwood_. The five first were executed the next Day at _Gallows Point_, at\nthe Town of _Port Royal_, and the rest, the Day after, at _Kingston_;\n_Rackam, Feverston_ and _Corner_, were afterwards taken down and hang'd up\nin Chains, one at _Plumb Point_, one at _Bush Key_, and the other at _Gun\nKey_.\nBut what was very surprizing, was, the Conviction of the nine Men that came\naboard the Sloop the same Day she was taken. They were try'd at an\nAdjournment of the Court, on the 24th of _January_, waiting all that Time,\nit is supposed, for Evidence, to prove the pyratical Intention of going\naboard the said Sloop; for it seems there was no Act of Pyracy committed by\nthem, after their coming on Board, as appeared by the Witnesses against\nthem, who were two _French_ Men taken by _Rackam_, off from the Island of\n_Hispaniola_, and deposed in the following Manner.\n   `That the Prisoners at the Bar, _viz. John Eaton,\n   Edward Warner, Thomas Baker, Thomas Quick, John Cole,\n   Benjamin Palmer, Walter Rouse, John Hanson_, and _John\n   Howard_, came aboard the Pyrate's Sloop at _Negril\n   Point, Rackam_ sending his Canoe ashore for that\n   Purpose: That they brought Guns and Cutlashes on Board\n   with them: That when Captain\n   _Barnet_ chased them, some were drinking, and others\n   walking the Deck: That there was a great Gun and a\n   small Arm fired by the Pyrate Sloop, at Captain\n   _Barnet_'s Sloop, when he chased her; and that when\n   Captain _Barnet_'s Sloop fired at _Rackam_'s Sloop, the\n   Prisoners at the Bar went down under Deck. That during\n   the Time Captain _Barnet_ chased them, some of the\n   Prisoners at the Bar (but which of them he could not\n   tell) helped to row the Sloop, in order to escape from\n   _Barnet_: That they all seemed to be consorted\n   together.\nThis was the Substance of all that was evidenced against them, the\nPrisoners answered in their Defence,\n   `That they had no Witnesses: That they had bought a\n   Pettiauger in order to go a Turtleing; and being at\n   _Negril Point_, and just got ashore, they saw a Sloop\n   with a white Pendant coming towards them, upon which\n   they took their Arms, and hid themselves in the Bushes:\n   That one of them hail'd the Sloop, who answer'd, _They\n   were_ English _Men_, and desired them to come aboard\n   and drink a Bowl of Punch; which they at first refused,\n   but afterwards with much perswasion, they went on\n   Board, in the Sloop's Canoe, and left their own\n   Pettiauger at Anchor: That they had been but a short\n   Time on Board, when Captain _Barnet_'s Sloop heaved in\n   Sight: That _Rackam_ ordered them to help to weigh the\n   Sloop's Anchor immediately, which they all refused:\n   That _Rackam_ used violent Means to oblige them; and\n   that when Captain _Barnet_ came up with them, they all\n   readily and willingly submitted.\nWhen the Prisoners were taken from the Bar, and the Persons present being\nwithdrawn, the Court considered the Prisoners Cases, and the Majority of\nthe Commissioners being of Opinion, that they were all Guilty of the Pyracy\nand Felony they were charged with, which was, _the going over with a\npyratical and felonious Intent to_ John Rackam, &c. _then notorious\nPyrates, and by them known to be so_, they all received Sentence of Death;\nwhich every Body must allow proved somewhat unlucky to the poor Fellows.\nOn the 17th of _February, John Eaton, Thomas Quick_ and _Thomas Baker_,\nwere executed at _Gallows Point_, at _Port Royal_, and the next Day _John\nCole, John Howard_ and _Benjamin Palmer_, were executed at _Kingston_;\nwhether the other three were executed afterwards, or not, I never heard.\nTwo other Pyrates were try'd that belonged to _Rackam_'s Crew, and being\nconvicted, were brought up, and asked if either of them had any Thing to\nsay why Sentence of Death should not pass upon them, in like Manner as had\nbeen done to all the rest; and both of them pleaded their Bellies, being\nquick with Child, and pray'd that Execution might be stay'd, whereupon the\nCourt passed Sentence, as in Cases of Pyracy, but ordered them back, till a\nproper Jury should be appointed to enquire into the Matter.\n_The_ LIFE _of_ MARY READ,\nNOW we are to begin a History full of surprizing Turns and\nAdventures; I mean, that of _Mary Read_ and _Anne Bonny_, alias _Bonn_,\nwhich were the true Names of these two Pyrates; the odd Incidents of their\nrambling Lives are such, that some may be tempted to think the whole Story\nno better than a Novel or Romance; but since it is supported by many\nthousand Witnesses, I mean the People of _Jamaica_, who were present at\ntheir Tryals, and heard the Story of their Lives, upon the first discovery\nof their Sex; the Truth of it can be no more contested, than that there\nwere such Men in the World, as _Roberts_ and _Black-beard_, who were\nPyrates.\n_Mary Read_ was born in _England_, her Mother was married young, to a Man\nwho used the Sea, who going a Voyage soon after their Marriage, left her\nwith Child, which Child proved to be a Boy. As to the Husband, whether he\nwas cast away, or died in the Voyage, _Mary Read_ could not tell; but\nhowever, he never returned more; nevertheless, the Mother, who was young\nand airy, met with an Accident, which has often happened to Women who are\nyoung, and do not take a great deal of Care; which was, she soon proved\nwith Child again, without a Husband to Father it, but how, or by whom, none\nbut her self could tell, for she carried a pretty good Reputation among her\nNeighbours. Finding her Burthen grow, in order to conceal her Shame, she\ntakes a formal Leave of her Husband's Relations, giving out, that she went\nto live with some Friends of her own, in the Country: Accordingly she went\naway, and carried with her her young Son, at this Time, not a Year old:\nSoon after her Departure her Son died, but Providence in Return, was\npleased to give her a Girl in his Room, of which she was safely delivered,\nin her Retreat, and this was our _Mary Read_.\nHere the Mother liv'd three or four Years, till what Money she had was\nalmost gone; then she thought of returning to _London_, and considering\nthat her Husband's Mother was in some Circumstances, she did not doubt but\nto prevail upon her, to provide for the Child, if she could but pass it\nupon her for the same, but the changing a Girl into a Boy, seem'd a\ndifficult Piece of Work, and how to deceive an experienced old Woman, in\nsuch a Point, was altogether as impossible; however, she ventured to dress\nit up as a Boy, brought it to Town, and presented it to her Mother in Law,\nas her Husband's Son; the old Woman would have taken it, to have bred it\nup, but the Mother pretended it would break her Heart, to part with it; so\nit was agreed betwixt them, that the Child should live with the Mother, and\nthe supposed Grandmother should allow a Crown a Week for it's Maintainance.\nThus the Mother gained her Point, she bred up her Daughter as a Boy, and\nwhen she grew up to some Sense, she thought proper to let her into the\nSecret of her Birth, to induce her to conceal her Sex. It happen'd that the\nGrandmother died, by which Means the Subsistance that came from that\nQuarter, ceased, and they were more and more reduced in their\nCircumstances; wherefore she was obliged to put her Daughter out, to wait\non a _French_ Lady, as a Foot-boy, being now thirteen Years of Age: Here\nshe did not live long, for growing bold and strong, and having also a\nroving Mind, she entered her self on Board a Man of War, where she served\nsome Time, then quitted it, went over into _Flanders_, and carried Arms in\na Regiment of Foot, as a _Cadet_; and tho' upon all Actions, she behaved\nherself with a great deal of Bravery, yet she could not get a Commission,\nthey being generally bought and sold; therefore she quitted the Service,\nand took on in a Regiment of Horse; she behaved so well in several\nEngagements, that she got the Esteem of all her Officers; but her Comrade\nwho was a _Fleming_, happening to be a handsome young Fellow, she falls in\nLove with him, and from that Time, grew a little more negligent in her\nDuty, so that, it seems, _Mars_ and _Venus_ could not be served at the same\nTime; her Arms and Accoutrements which were always kept in the best Order,\nwere quite neglected: 'tis true, when her Comrade was ordered out upon a\nParty, she used to go without being commanded, and frequently run herself\ninto Danger, where she had no Business, only to be near him; the rest of\nthe Troopers little suspecting the secret Cause which moved her to this\nBehaviour, fancied her to be mad, and her Comrade himself could not account\nfor this strange Alteration in her, but Love is ingenious, and as they lay\nin the same Tent, and were constantly together, she found a Way of letting\nhim discover her Sex, without appearing that it was done with Design.\nHe was much surprized at what he found out, and not a little pleased,\ntaking it for granted, that he should have a Mistress solely to himself,\nwhich is an unusual Thing in a Camp, since there is scarce one of those\nCampaign Ladies, that is ever true to a Troop or Company; so that he\nthought of nothing but gratifying his Passions with very little Ceremony;\nbut he found himself strangely mistaken, for she proved very reserved and\nmodest, and resisted all his Temptations, and at the same Time was so\nobliging and insinuating in her Carriage, that she quite changed his\nPurpose, so far from thinking of making her his Mistress, he now courted\nher for a Wife.\nThis was the utmost Wish of her Heart, in short, they exchanged Promises,\nand when the Campaign was over, and the Regiment marched into Winter\nQuarters, they bought Woman's Apparel for her, with such Money as they\ncould make up betwixt them, and were publickly married.\nThe Story of two Troopers marrying each other, made a great Noise, so that\nseveral Officers were drawn by Curiosity to assist at the Ceremony, and\nthey agreed among themselves that every one of them should make a small\nPresent to the Bride, towards House-keeping, in Consideration of her having\nbeen their fellow Soldier. Thus being set up, they seemed to have a Desire\nof quitting the Service, and settling in the World; the Adventure of their\nLove and Marriage had gained them so much Favour, that they easily obtained\ntheir Discharge, and they immediately set up an Eating House or Ordinary,\nwhich was the Sign of the _Three Horse-Shoes_, near the Castle of _Breda_,\nwhere they soon run into a good Trade, a great many Officers eating with\nthem constantly.\nBut this Happiness lasted not long, for the Husband soon died, and the\nPeace of _Reswick_ being concluded, there was no Resort of Officers to\n_Breda_, as usual; so that the Widow having little or no Trade, was forced\nto give up House-keeping, and her Substance being by Degrees quite spent,\nshe again assumes her Man's Apparel, and going into _Holland_, there takes\non in a Regiment of Foot, quarter'd in one of the Frontier Towns: Here she\ndid not remain long, there was no likelihood of Preferment in Time of\nPeace, therefore she took a Resolution of seeking her Fortune another Way;\nand withdrawing from the Regiment, ships herself on Board of a Vessel bound\nfor the _West-Indies_.\nIt happen'd this Ship was taken by _English_ Pyrates, and _Mary Read_ was\nthe only _English_ Person on Board, they kept her amongst them, and having\nplundered the Ship, let it go again; after following this Trade for some\nTime, the King's Proclamation came out, and was publish'd in all Parts of\nthe _West-Indies_, for pardoning such Pyrates, who should voluntarily\nsurrender themselves by a certain Day therein mentioned. The Crew of _Mary\nRead_ took the Benefit of this Proclamation, and having surrender'd, liv'd\nquietly on Shore; but Money beginning to grow short, and hearing that\nCaptain _Woods Rogers_, Governor of the Island of _Providence_, was fitting\nout some Privateers to cruise against the _Spaniards_, she with several\nothers embark'd for that Island, in order to go upon the privateering\nAccount, being resolved to make her Fortune one way or other.\nThese Privateers were no sooner sail'd out, but the Crews of some of them,\nwho had been pardoned, rose against their Commanders, and turned themselves\nto their old Trade: In this Number was _Mary Read_. It is true, she often\ndeclared, that the Life of a Pyrate was what she always abhor'd, and went\ninto it only upon Compulsion, both this Time, and before, intending to quit\nit, whenever a fair Opportunity should offer it self; yet some of the\nEvidence against her, upon her Tryal, who were forced Men, and had sailed\nwith her, deposed upon Oath, that in Times of Action, no Person amongst\nthem were more resolute, or ready to Board or undertake any Thing that was\nhazardous, as she and _Anne Bonny_; and particularly at the Time they were\nattack'd and taken, when they came to close Quarters, none kept the Deck\nexcept _Mary Read_ and _Anne Bonny_, and one more; upon which, she, _Mary\nRead_, called to those under Deck, to come up and fight like Men, and\nfinding they did not stir, fired her Arms down the Hold amongst them,\nkilling one, and wounding others.\nThis was part of the Evidence against her, which she denied; which, whether\ntrue or no, thus much is certain, that she did not want Bravery, nor indeed\nwas she less remarkable for her Modesty, according to her Notions of\nVirtue: Her Sex was not so much as suspected by any Person on Board, till\n_Anne Bonny_, who was not altogether so reserved in point of Chastity, took\na particular liking to her; in short, _Anne Bonny_ took her for a handsome\nyoung Fellow, and for some Reasons best known to herself, first discovered\nher Sex to _Mary Read; Mary Read_ knowing what she would be at, and being\nvery sensible of her own Incapacity that Way, was forced to come to a right\nUnderstanding with her, and so to the great Disappointment of _Anne Bonny_,\nshe let her know she was a Woman also; but this Intimacy so disturb'd\nCaptain _Rackam_, who was the Lover and Gallant of _Anne Bonny_, that he\ngrew furiously jealous, so that he told _Anne Bonny_, he would cut her new\nLover's Throat, therefore, to quiet him, she let him into the Secret also.\nCaptain _Rackam_, (as he was enjoined,) kept the Thing a Secret from all\nthe Ship's Company, yet, notwithstanding all her Cunning and Reserve, Love\nfound her out in this Disguise, and hinder'd her from forgetting her Sex.\nIn their Cruize they took a great Number of Ships belonging to _Jamaica_,\nand other Parts of the _West-Indies_, bound to and from _England_; and when\never they meet any good Artist, or other Person that might be of any great\nUse to their Company, if he was not willing to enter, it was their Custom\nto keep him by Force. Among these was a young Fellow of a most engageing\nBehaviour, or, at least, he was so in the Eyes of _Mary Read_, who became\nso smitten with his Person and Address, that she could neither rest, Night\nor Day; but as there is nothing more ingenious than Love, it was no hard\nMatter for her, who had before been practiced in these Wiles, to find a Way\nto let him discover her Sex: She first insinuated her self into his liking,\nby talking against the Life of a Pyrate, which he was altogether averse to,\nso they became Mess-Mates and strict Companions: When she found he had a\nFriendship for her, as a Man, she suffered the Discovery to be made, by\ncarelesly shewing her Breasts, which were very White.\nThe young Fellow, who was made of Flesh and Blood, had his Curiosity and\nDesire so rais'd by this Sight, that he never ceased importuning her, till\nshe confessed what she was. Now begins the Scene of Love; as he had a\nLiking and Esteem for her, under her supposed Character, it was now turn'd\ninto Fondness and Desire; her Passion was no less violent than his, and\nperhaps she express'd it, by one of the most generous Actions that ever\nLove inspired. It happened this young Fellow had a Quarrel with one of the\nPyrates, and their Ship then lying at an Anchor, near one of the Islands,\nthey had appointed to go ashore and fight, according to the Custom of the\nPyrates: _Mary Read_, was to the last Degree uneasy and anxious, for the\nFate of her Lover; she would not have had him refuse the Challenge,\nbecause, she could not bear the Thoughts of his being branded with\nCowardise; on the other Side, she dreaded the Event, and apprehended the\nFellow might be too hard for him: When Love once enters into the Breast of\none who has any Sparks of Generosity, it stirs the Heart up to the most\nnoble Actions; in this Dilemma, she shew'd, that she fear'd more for his\nLife than she did for her own; for she took a Resolution of quarreling with\nthis Fellow her self, and having challenged him ashore, she appointed the\nTime two Hours sooner than that when he was to meet her Lover, where she\nfought him at Sword and Pistol, and killed him upon the Spot.\nIt is true, she had fought before, when she had been insulted by some of\nthose Fellows, but now it was altogether in her Lover's Cause, she stood as\nit were betwixt him and Death, as if she could not live without him. If he\nhad no regard for her before, this Action would have bound him to her for\never; but there was no Occasion for Ties or Obligations, his Inclination\ntowards her was sufficient; in fine, they applied their Troth to each\nother, which _Mary Read_ said, she look'd upon to be as good a Marriage, in\nConscience, as if it had been done by a Minister in Church; and to this was\nowing her great Belly, which she pleaded to save her Life.\nShe declared she had never committed Adultery or Fornication with any Man,\nshe commended the Justice of the Court, before which she was tried, for\ndistinguishing the Nature of their Crimes; her Husband, as she call'd him,\nwith several others, being acquitted; and being ask'd, who he was? she\nwould not tell, but, said he was an honest Man, and had no Inclination to\nsuch Practices, and that they had both resolved to leave the Pyrates the\nfirst Opportunity, and apply themselves to some honest Livelyhood.\nIt is no doubt, but many had Compassion for her, yet the Court could not\navoid finding her Guilty; for among other Things, one of the Evidences\nagainst her, deposed, that being taken by _Rackam_, and detain'd some Time\non Board, he fell accidentally into Discourse with _Mary Read_, whom he\ntaking for a young Man, ask'd her, what Pleasure she could have in being\nconcerned in such Enterprizes, where her Life was continually in Danger, by\nFire or Sword; and not only so, but she must be sure of dying an\nignominious Death, if she should be taken alive?--She answer'd, that as to\nhanging, she thought it no great Hardship, for, were it not for that, every\ncowardly Fellow would turn Pyrate, and so infest the Seas, that Men of\nCourage must starve:-- That if it was put to the Choice of the Pyrates,\nthey would not have the punishment less than Death, the Fear of which, kept\nsome dastardly Rogues honest; that many of those who are now cheating the\nWidows and Orphans, and oppressing their poor Neighbours, who have no Money\nto obtain Justice, would then rob at Sea, and the Ocean would be crowded\nwith Rogues, like the Land, and no Merchant would venture out; so that the\nTrade, in a little Time, would not be worth following.\nBeing found quick with Child, as has been observed, her Execution was\nrespited, and it is possible she would have found Favour, but she was\nseiz'd with a violent Fever, soon after her Tryal, of which she died in\nPrison.\n_The_ LIFE _of_ ANNE BONNY.\nAS we have been more particular in the Lives of these two Women, than\nthose of other Pyrates, it is incumbent on us, as a faithful Historian, to\nbegin with their Birth. _Anne Bonny_ was born at a Town near _Cork_, in the\nKingdom of _Ireland_, her Father an Attorney at Law, but _Anne_ was not one\nof his legitimate Issue, which seems to cross an old Proverb, which says,\n_that Bastards have the best Luck_. Her Father was a Married Man, and his\nWife having been brought to Bed, contracted an Illness in her lying in, and\nin order to recover her Health, she was advised to remove for Change of\nAir; the Place she chose, was a few Miles distance from her Dwelling, where\nher Husband's Mother liv'd. Here she sojourn'd some Time, her Husband\nstaying at Home, to follow his Affairs. The Servant-Maid, whom she left to\nlook after the House, and attend the Family, being a handsome young Woman,\nwas courted by a young Man of the same Town, who was a _Tanner_; this\n_Tanner_ used to take his Opportunities, when the Family was out of the\nWay, of coming to pursue his Courtship; and being with the Maid one Day as\nshe was employ'd in the Houshold Business, not having the Fear of God\nbefore his Eyes, he takes his Opportunity, when her Back was turned, of\nwhipping three Silver Spoons into his Pocket. The Maid soon miss'd the\nSpoons, and knowing that no Body had been in the Room, but herself and the\nyoung Man, since she saw them last, she charged him with taking them; he\nvery stifly denied it, upon which she grew outragious, and threatned to go\nto a Constable, in order to carry him before a Justice of Peace: These\nMenaces frighten'd him out of his Wits, well knowing he could not stand\nSearch; wherefore he endeavoured to pacify her, by desiring her to examine\nthe Drawers and other Places, and perhaps she might find them; in this Time\nhe slips into another Room, where the Maid usually lay, and puts the Spoons\nbetwixt the Sheets, and then makes his Escape by a back Door, concluding\nshe must find them, when she went to Bed, and so next Day he might pretend\nhe did it only to frighten her, and the Thing might be laugh'd off for a\nJest.\nAs soon as she miss'd him, she gave over her Search, concluding he had\ncarried them off, and went directly to the Constable, in order to have him\napprehended: The young Man was informed, that a Constable had been in\nSearch of him, but he regarded it but little, not doubting but all would be\nwell next Day. Three or four Days passed, and still he was told, the\nConstable was upon the Hunt for him, this made him lye concealed, he could\nnot comprehend the Meaning of it, he imagined no less, than that the Maid\nhad a Mind to convert the Spoons to her own Use, and put the Robbery upon\nhim.\nIt happened, at this Time, that the Mistress being perfectly recovered of\nher late Indisposition, was return'd Home, in Company with her\nMother-in-Law; the first News she heard, was of the Loss of the Spoons,\nwith the Manner how; the Maid telling her, at the same Time, that the young\nMan was run away. The young Fellow had Intelligence of the Mistress's\nArrival, and considering with himself, that he could never appear again in\nhis Business, unless this Matter was got over, and she being a good natured\nWoman, he took a Resolution of going directly to her, and of telling her\nthe whole Story, only with this Difference, that he did it for a Jest.\nThe Mistress could scarce believe it, however, she went directly to the\nMaid's Room, and turning down the Bed Cloaths, there, to her great\nSurprize, found the three Spoons; upon this she desired the young Man to go\nHome and mind his Business, for he should have no Trouble about it.\nThe Mistress could not imagine the Meaning of this, she never had found the\nMaid guilty of any pilfering, and therefore it could not enter her Head,\nthat she designed to steal the Spoons her self; upon the whole, she\nconcluded the Maid had not been in her Bed, from the Time the Spoons were\nmiss'd, she grew immediately jealous upon it, and suspected, that the Maid\nsupplied her Place with her Husband, during her Absence, and this was the\nReason why the Spoons were no sooner found.\nShe call'd to Mind several Actions of Kindness, her Husband had shewed the\nMaid, Things that pass'd unheeded by, when they happened, but now she had\ngot that Tormentor, Jealousy, in her Head, amounted to Proofs of their\nIntimacy; another Circumstance which strengthen'd the whole, was, that tho'\nher Husband knew she was to come Home that Day, and had had no\nCommunication with her in four Months, which was before her last Lying in,\nyet he took an Opportunity of going out of Town that Morning, upon some\nslight Pretence: --All these Things put together, confirm'd her in her\nJealousy.\nAs Women seldom forgive Injuries of this Kind, she thought of discharging\nher Revenge upon the Maid: In order to this, she leaves the Spoons where\nshe found them, and orders the Maid to put clean Sheets upon the Bed,\ntelling her, she intended to lye there herself that Night, because her\nMother in Law was to lye in her Bed, and that she (the Maid) must lye in\nanother Part of the House; the Maid in making the Bed, was surprized with\nthe Sight of the Spoons, but there were very good Reasons, why it was not\nproper for her to tell where she found them, therefore she takes them up,\nputs them in her Trunk, intending to leave them in some Place, where they\nmight be found by chance.\nThe Mistress, that every Thing might look to be done without Design, lies\nthat Night in the Maid's Bed, little dreaming of what an Adventure it would\nproduce: After she had been a Bed some Time, thinking on what had pass'd,\nfor Jealousy kept her awake, she heard some Body enter the Room; at first\nshe apprehended it to be Thieves, and was so fright'ned, she had not\nCourage enough to call out; but when she heard these Words, Mary, _are you\nawake_? She knew it to be her Husband's Voice; then her Fright was over,\nyet she made no Answer, least he should find her out, if she spoke,\ntherefore she resolved to counterfeit Sleep, and take what followed.\nThe Husband came to Bed, and that Night play'd the vigorous Lover; but one\nThing spoil'd the Diversion on the Wife's Side, which was, the Reflection\nthat it was not design'd for her; however she was very passive, and bore it\nlike a Christian. Early before Day, she stole out of Bed, leaving him\nasleep, and went to her Mother in Law, telling her what had passed, not\nforgetting how he had used her, as taking her for the Maid; the Husband\nalso stole out, not thinking it convenient to be catch'd in that Room; in\nthe mean Time, the Revenge of the Mistress was strongly against the Maid,\nand without considering, that to her she ow'd the Diversion of the Night\nbefore, and that one good _Turn_ should deserve another; she sent for a\nConstable, and charged her with stealing the Spoons: The Maid's Trunk was\nbroke open, and the Spoons found, upon which she was carried before a\nJustice of Peace, and by him committed to Goal.\nThe Husband loiter'd about till twelve a Clock at Noon, then comes Home,\npretended he was just come to Town; as soon as he heard what had passed, in\nRelation to the Maid, he fell into a great Passion with his Wife; this set\nthe Thing into a greater Flame, the Mother takes the Wife's Part against\nher own Son, insomuch that the Quarrel increasing, the Mother and Wife took\nHorse immediately, and went back to the Mother's House, and the Husband and\nWife never bedded together after.\nThe Maid lay a long Time in the Prison, it being near half a Year to the\nAssizes; but before it happened, it was discovered she was with Child; when\nshe was arraign'd at the Bar, she was discharged for want of Evidence; the\nWife's Conscience touch'd her, and as she did not believe the Maid Guilty\nof any Theft, except that of Love, she did not appear against her; soon\nafter her Acquittal, she was delivered of a Girl.\nBut what alarm'd the Husband most, was, that it was discovered the Wife was\nwith Child also, he taking it for granted, he had had no Intimacy with her,\nsince her last lying in, grew jealous of her, in his Turn, and made this a\nHandle to justify himself, for his Usage of her, pretending now he had\nsuspected her long, but that here was Proof; she was delivered of Twins, a\nBoy and a Girl.\nThe Mother fell ill, sent to her Son to reconcile him to his Wife, but he\nwould not hearken to it; therefore she made a Will, leaving all she had in\nthe Hands of certain Trustees, for the Use of the Wife and two Children\nlately born, and died a few Days after.\nThis was an ugly Turn upon him, his greatest Dependence being upon his\nMother; however, his Wife was kinder to him than he deserved, for she made\nhim a yearly Allowance out of what was left, tho' they continued to live\nseparate: It lasted near five Years; at this Time having a great Affection\nfor the Girl he had by his Maid, he had a Mind to take it Home, to live\nwith him; but as all the Town knew it to be a Girl, the better to disguise\nthe Matter from them, as well as from his Wife, he had it put into\nBreeches, as a Boy, pretending it was a Relation's Child he was to breed up\nto be his Clerk.\nThe Wife heard he had a little Boy at Home he was very fond of, but as she\ndid not know any Relation of his that had such a Child, she employ'd a\nFriend to enquire further into it; this Person by talking with the Child,\nfound it to be a Girl, discovered that the Servant-Maid was its Mother, and\nthat the Husband still kept up his Correspondence with her.\nUpon this Intelligence, the Wife being unwilling that her Children's Money\nshould go towards the Maintenance of Bastards, stopped the Allowance: The\nHusband enraged, in a kind of Revenge, takes the Maid home, and lives with\nher publickly, to the great Scandal of his Neighbours; but he soon found\nthe bad Effect of it, for by Degrees lost his Practice, so that he saw\nplainly he could not live there, therefore he thought of removing, and\nturning what Effects he had into ready Money; he goes to _Cork_, and there\nwith his Maid and Daughter embarques for _Carolina_.\nAt first he followed the Practice of the Law in that Province, but\nafterwards fell into Merchandize, which proved more successful to him, for\nhe gained by it sufficient to purchase a considerable Plantation: His Maid,\nwho passed for his Wife, happened to dye, after which his Daughter, our\n_Anne Bonny_, now grown up, kept his House.\nShe was of a fierce and couragious Temper, wherefore, when she lay under\nCondemnation, several Stories were reported of her, much to her\nDisadvantage, as that she had kill'd an _English_ Servant-Maid once in her\nPassion with a Case-Knife, while she look'd after her Father's House; but\nupon further Enquiry, I found this Story to be groundless: It was certain\nshe was so robust, that once, when a young Fellow would have lain with her,\nagainst her Will, she beat him so, that he lay ill of it a considerable\nTime.\nWhile she lived with her Father, she was look'd upon as one that would be a\ngood Fortune, wherefore it was thought her Father expected a good Match for\nher; but she spoilt all, for without his Consent, she marries a young\nFellow, who belonged to the Sea, and was not worth a Groat; which provoked\nher Father to such a Degree, that he turned her out of Doors, upon which\nthe young Fellow, who married her, finding himself disappointed in his\nExpectation, shipped himself and Wife, for the Island of _Providence_,\nexpecting Employment there.\nHere she became acquainted with _Rackam_ the Pyrate, who making Courtship\nto her, soon found Means of withdrawing her Affections from her Husband, so\nthat she consented to elope from him, and go to Sea with _Rackam_ in Men's\nCloaths: She was as good as her Word, and after she had been at Sea some\nTime, she proved with Child, and beginning to grow big, _Rackam_ landed her\non the Island of _Cuba_; and recommending her there to some Friends of his,\nthey took Care of her, till she was brought to Bed: When she was up and\nwell again, he sent for her to bear him Company.\nThe King's Proclamation being out, for pardoning of Pyrates, he took the\nBenefit of it, and surrendered; afterwards being sent upon the privateering\nAccount, he returned to his old Trade, as has been already hinted in the\nStory of _Mary Read_. In all these Expeditions, _Anne Bonny_ bore him\nCompany, and when any Business was to be done in their Way, no Body was\nmore forward or couragious than she, and particularly when they were taken;\nshe and _Mary Read_, with one more, were all the Persons that durst keep\nthe Deck, as has been before hinted.\nHer Father was known to a great many Gentlemen, Planters of _Jamaica_, who\nhad dealt with him, and among whom he had a good Reputation; and some of\nthem, who had been in _Carolina_, remember'd to have seen her in his House;\nwherefore they were inclined to shew her Favour, but the Action of leaving\nher Husband was an ugly Circumstance against her. The Day that _Rackam_ was\nexecuted, by special Favour, he was admitted to see her; but all the\nComfort she gave him, was, _that she was sorry to see him there, but if he\nhad fought like a Man, he need not have been hang'd like a Dog_.\nShe was continued in Prison, to the Time of her lying in, and afterwards\nreprieved from Time to Time; but what is become of her since, we cannot\ntell; only this we know, that she was not executed.\nCHAP. VIII. OF Captain _Howel Davis_, And his CREW.\nCAptain _Howel Davis_ was born at _Milford_, in _Monmouthshire_, and\nwas from a Boy brought up to the Sea. The last Voyage he made from\n_England_, was in the _Cadogan_ Snow of _Bristol_, Captain _Skinner_\nCommander, bound for the Coast of _Guiney_, of which Snow _Davis_ was chief\nMate: They were no sooner arrived at _Sierraleon_ on the aforesaid Coast,\nbut they were taken by the Pyrate _England_, who plunder'd them, and\n_Skinner_ was barbarously murdered, as has been related before in the Story\nof Captain _England_.\nAfter the Death of Captain _Skinner, Davis_ pretended that he was mightily\nsollicited by _England_ to engage with him; but that he resolutely\nanswered, he would sooner be shot to Death than sign the Pyrates Articles.\nUpon which, _England_, pleased with his Bravery, sent him and the rest of\nthe Men again on Board the Snow, appointing him Captain of her, in the Room\nof _Skinner_, commanding him to pursue his Voyage. He also gave him a\nwritten Paper sealed up, with Orders to open it when he should come into a\ncertain Latitude, and at the Peril of his Life follow the Orders therein\nset down. This was an Air of Grandeur like what Princes practice to their\nAdmirals and Generals.--It was punctually complied with by _Davis_, who\nread it to the Ship's Company; it contained no less than a generous Deed of\nGift of the Ship and Cargoe, to _Davis_ and the Crew, ordering him to go to\n_Brasil_ and dispose of the Lading to the best Advantage, and to make a\nfair and equal Dividend with the rest.\n_Davis_ proposed to the Crew, whether they were willing to follow their\nDirections, but to his great Surprize, found the Majority of them\naltogether averse to it, wherefore in a Rage, he bad them be damn'd, and go\nwhere they would. They knew that Part of their Cargoe was consigned to\ncertain Merchants at _Barbadoes_, wherefore they steered for that Island.\nWhen they arrived, they related to these Merchants the unfortunate Death of\n_Skinner_, and the Proposal which had been made to them by _Davis_; upon\nwhich _Davis_ was seized and committed to Prison, where he was kept three\nMonths; however, as he had been in no Act of Pyracy, he was discharged\nwithout being brought to any Tryal, yet he could not expect any Employment\nthere; wherefore knowing that the Island of _Providence_ was a kind of\nRendevouz of Pyrates, he was resolved to make one amongst them, if\npossible, and to that Purpose, found Means of shipping himself for that\nIsland; but he was again disappointed, for when he arrived there, the\nPyrates had newly surrendered to Captain _Woods Rogers_, and accepted of\nthe Act of Grace, which he had just brought from _England_.\nHowever, _Davis_ was not long out of Business, for Captain _Rogers_ having\nfitted out two Sloops for Trade, one called the _Buck_, the other the\n_Mumvil Trader; Davis_ found an Employment on Board of one of them; the\nLading of these Sloops was of considerable Value, consisting of _European_\nGoods, in order to be exchanged with the _French_ and _Spaniards_; and many\nof the Hands on Board of them, were the Pyrates lately come in upon the\nlate Act of Grace. The first Place they touched at, was the Island of\n_Martinico_, belonging to the _French_, where _Davis_ having conspired with\nsome others, rise in the Night, secured the Master and seized the Sloop; as\nsoon as this was done, they called to the other Sloop, which lay a little\nWay from them, among whom they knew there were a great many Hands ripe for\nRebellion, and ordered them to come on Board of them; they did so, and the\ngreatest Part of them agreed to join with _Davis_; those who were otherwise\ninclined, were sent back on Board the _Mumvil_ Sloop, to go where they\npleased, _Davis_ having first taken out of her, every Thing which he\nthought might be of Use.\nAfter this, a Counsel of War was called over a large Bowl of Punch, at\nwhich it was proposed to chuse a Commander; the Election was soon over, for\nit fell upon _Davis_ by a great Majority of _legal Pollers_, there was no\nScrutiny demanded, for all acquiesced in the Choice: As soon as he was\npossess'd of his Command, he drew up Articles, which were signed and sworn\nto by himself and the rest, then he made a short Speech, the sum of which,\nwas, a Declaration of War against the whole World.\nAfter this they consulted about a proper Place where they might clean their\nSloop, a light Pair of Heels being of great Use either to take, or escape\nbeing taken; for this purpose they made Choice of _Coxon_'s _Hole_, at the\nEast End of the Island of _Cuba_, a Place where they might secure\nthemselves from Surprize, the Entrance being so narrow, that one Ship might\nkeep out a hundred.\nHere they cleaned with much Difficulty, for they had no Carpenter in their\nCompany, a Person of great Use upon such Exigencies; from hence they put to\nSea, making to the North-Side of the Island of _Hispaniola_. The first Sail\nwhich fell in their Way, was a _French_ Ship of twelve Guns; it must be\nobserved, that _Davis_ had but thirty five Hands, yet Provisions began to\ngrow short with him; wherefore he attacked this Ship, she soon struck, and\nhe sent twelve of his Hands on Board of her, in order to plunder: This was\nno sooner done, but a Sail was spied a great Way to Windward of them; they\nenquired of the _French_ Man what she might be, he answered, that he had\nspoke with a Ship, the Day before, of 24 Guns and 60 Men, and he took this\nto be the same.\n_Davis_ then proposed to his Men to attack her, telling them, she would be\na rare Ship for their Use, but they looked upon it to be an extravagant\nAttempt, and discovered no Fondness for it, but he assured them he had a\nStratagem in his Head would make all safe; wherefore he gave Chace, and\nordered his Prize to do the same. The Prize being a slow Sailor, _Davis_\nfirst came up with the Enemy, and standing along Side of them, shewed his\npyratical Colours: They, much surpriz'd, called to _Davis_, telling him,\nthey wondered at his Impudence in venturing to come so near them, and\nordered him to strike; but he answered, that he intended to keep them in\nPlay, till his Consort came up, who was able to deal with them, and that if\nthey did not strike to him, they should have but bad Quarters; whereupon he\ngave them a Broad-Side, which they returned.\nIn the mean Time the Prize drew near, who obliged all the Prisoners to come\nupon Deck in white Shirts, to make a Shew of Force, as they had been\ndirected by _Davis_; they also hoisted a dirty Tarpawlin, by Way of black\nFlag, they having no other, and fir'd a Gun: The _French_ Men were so\nintimidated by this Appearance of Force, that they struck. _Davis_ called\nout to the Captain to come on Board of him, with twenty of his Hands; he\ndid so, and they were all for the greater Security clapt into Irons, the\nCaptain excepted: Then he sent four of his own Men on Board the first\nPrize, and in order still to carry on the Cheat, spoke aloud, that they\nshould give his Service to the Captain, and desire him to send some Hands\non Board the Prize, to see what they had got; but at the same Time gave\nthem a written Paper, with Instructions what to do. Here he ordered them to\nnail up the Guns in the little Prize, to take out all the small Arms and\nPowder, and to go every Man of them on Board the second Prize; when this\nwas done, he ordered that more of the Prisoners should be removed out of\nthe great Prize, into the little one, by which he secured himself from any\nAttempt which might be feared from their Numbers; for those on Board of him\nwere fast in Irons, and those in the little Prize had neither Arms nor\nAmmunition.\nThus the three Ships kept Company for 2 Days, when finding the great Prize\nto be a very dull Sailor, he thought she would not be fit for his Purpose,\nwherefore he resolved to restore her to the Captain, with all his Hands;\nbut first, he took Care to take out all her Ammunition, and every Thing\nelse which he might possibly want. The _French_ Captain was in such a Rage,\nat being so outwitted, that when he got on Board his own Ship, he was going\nto throw himself over-board, but was prevented by his Men.\nHaving let go both his Prizes, he steered Northward, in which Course he\ntook a small _Spanish_ Sloop; after this, he made towards the _Western_\nIslands, but met with no Booty thereabouts; then he steered for the _Cape\nde Verde_ Islands, they cast Anchor at St. _Nicholas_, hoisting _English_\nColours; the _Portuguese_ inhabiting there, took him for an _English_\nPrivateer, and _Davis_ going ashore, they both treated him very civilly,\nand also traded with him. Here he remained five Weeks, in which Time, he\nand half his Crew, for their Pleasure, took a Journey to the chief Town of\nthe Island, which was 19 Miles up the Country: _Davis_ making a good\nAppearance, was caressed by the Governor and the Inhabitants, and no\nDiversion was wanting which the _Portuguese_ could shew, or Money could\npurchase; after about a Week's Stay, he came back to the Ship, and the rest\nof the Crew went to take their Pleasure up to the Town, in their Turn.\nAt their Return they clean'd their Ship, and put to Sea, but not with their\nwhole Company; for five of them, like _Hannibal_'s Men, were so charm'd\nwith the Luxuries of the Place, and the free Conversation of some Women,\nthat they staid behind; and one of them, whose Name was _Charles Franklin_,\na _Monmouthshire_ Man, married and settled himself, and lives there to this\nDay.\nFrom hence they sailed to _Bonevista_, and looked into that Harbour, but\nfinding nothing, they steer'd for the Isle of _May_: When they arrived\nhere, they met with a great many Ships and Vessels in the Road, all which\nthey plundered, taking out of them whatever they wanted; and also\nstrengthen'd themselves with a great many fresh Hands, who most of them\nenter'd voluntarily. One of the Ships they took to their own Use, mounted\nher with twenty six Guns, and call'd her the _King James_. There being no\nfresh Water hereabouts, they made towards St. _Jago_, belonging to the\n_Portuguese_, in order to lay in a Store; _Davis_, with a few Hands, going\nashore to find the most commodious Place to water at, the Governor, with\nsome Attendants, came himself and examined who they were, and whence they\ncame? And not liking _Davis_'s Account of himself, the Governor was so\nplain to tell them, he suspected them to be Pyrates. _Davis_ seemed\nmightily affronted, standing much upon his Honour, replying to the\nGovernor, he scorn'd his Words; however, as soon as his Back was turn'd,\nfor fear of Accidents, he got on Board again as fast as he could. _Davis_\nrelated what had happened, and his Men seemed to resent the Affront which\nhad been offered him. _Davis_, upon this, told them, he was confident he\ncould surprize the Fort in the Night; they agreed with him to attempt it,\nand accordingly, when it grew late, they went ashore well arm'd; and the\nGuard which was kept, was so negligent, that they got within the Fort\nbefore any Alarm was given: When it was too late there was some little\nResistance made, and three Men killed on _Davis_'s Side. Those in the Fort,\nin their Hurry, run into the Governor's House to save themselves, which\nthey barricadoed so strongly, that _Davis_'s Party could not enter it;\nhowever, they threw in Granadoe-Shells, which not only ruin'd all the\nFurniture, but kill'd several Men within.\nWhen it was Day the whole Country was alarm'd, and came to attack the\nPyrates; wherefore it not being their Business to stand a Siege, they made\nthe best of their Way on Board their Ship again, after having dismounted\nthe Guns of the Fort. By this Enterprize they did a great Deal of Mischief\nto the _Portuguese_, and but very little Good to themselves.\nHaving put to Sea they muster'd their Hands, and found themselves near\nseventy strong; then it was proposed what Course they should steer, and\ndiffering in their Opinions, they divided, and by a Majority it was carried\nfor _Gambia_ on the Coast of _Guiney_; of this Opinion was _Davis_, he\nhaving been employ'd in that Trade, was acquainted with the Coast: He told\nthem, that there was a great deal of Money always kept in _Gambia_ Castle,\nand that it would be worth their while to make an Attempt upon it. They\nask'd him how it was possible, since it was garrisoned? He desired they\nwould leave the Management of it to him, and he would undertake to make\nthem Masters of it. They began now to conceive so high an Opinion of his\nConduct, as well as Courage, that they thought nothing impossible to him,\ntherefore they agreed to obey him, without enquiring further into his\nDesign.\nHaving come within Sight of the Place, he ordered all his Men under Deck,\nexcept as many as were absolutely necessary for working the Ship, that\nthose from the Fort seeing a Ship with so few Hands, might have no\nSuspicion of her being any other than a trading Vessel; then he ran close\nunder the Fort, and there cast Anchor; and having ordered out the Boat, he\ncommanded six Men in her, in old ordinary Jackets, while he himself, with\nthe Master and Doctor, dressed themselves like Gentlemen; his Design being,\nthat the Men should look like common Sailors, and they like Merchants. In\nrowing ashore he gave his Men Instructions what to say in Case any\nQuestions should be asked them.\nBeing come to the landing Place, he was received by a File of Musqueteers,\nand conducted into the Fort, where the Governor accosting them civilly,\nask'd them who they were, and whence they came? They answered they were of\n_Liverpool_, bound for the River of _Sinnegal_, to trade for Gum and\nElephants Teeth, but that they were chaced on that Coast by two _French_\nMen of War, and narrowly escaped being taken, having a little the Heels of\nthem; but now they were resolved to make the best of a bad Market, and\nwould Trade here for Slaves; then the Governor ask'd them, what was the\nchief of their Cargo? They answered, Iron and Plate, which were good Things\nthere; the Governor told them he would Slave them to the full Value of\ntheir Cargoe, and asked them, if they had any _European_ Liquor on Board?\nthey answered, a little for their own Use; however, a Hamper should be at\nhis Service. The Governor then very civilly invited them all to stay and\ndine with him; _Davis_ told him, that being Commander of the Ship, he must\ngo on Board to see her well moored, and give some other Orders, but those\ntwo Gentlemen might stay, and that he himself would also return before\nDinner, and bring the Hamper of Liquor with him.\nWhile he was in the Fort, his Eyes were very busy in observing how Things\nlay; he took Notice there was a Centry at the Entrance, and a Guard-House\njust by it, where the Soldiers upon Duty commonly waited, their Arms\nstanding in a Corner, in a Heap; he saw also a great many small Arms in the\nGovernor's Hall; now when he came on Board, he assured his Men of Success,\ndesiring them not to get drunk, and that as soon as they saw the Flag upon\nthe Castle struck, they might conclude he was Master, and send twenty Hands\nimmediately ashore; in the mean Time, there being a Sloop at Anchor near\nthem, he sent some Hands in a Boat, to secure the Master and all the Men,\nand bring them on Board of him, least they observing any Bustle or arming\nin his Ship, might send ashore and give Intelligence.\nThese Precautions being taken, he ordered his Men, who were to go in the\nBoat with him, to put two Pair of Pistols each under their Cloaths, he\ndoing the like himself, and gave them Directions to go into the Guard-Room,\nand to enter into Conversation with the Soldiers, and observe when he\nshould fire a Pistol thro' the Governor's Window, to start up at once and\nsecure the Arms in the Guard-Room.\nWhen _Davis_ arrived, Dinner not being ready, the Governor proposed that\nthey should pass their Time in making a Bowl of Punch till Dinner-Time: It\nmust be observed, that _Davis_'s Coxen waited upon them, who had an\nOpportunity of going about all Parts of the House, to see what Strength\nthey had, he whispered _Davis_, there being no Person then in the Room, but\nhe, _(Davis)_ the Master, the Doctor, the Coxen and Governor; _Davis_ on a\nsudden drew out a Pistol, clapt it to the Governor's Breast, telling him,\nhe must surrender the Fort and all the Riches in it, or he was a dead Man.\nThe Governor being no Ways prepared for such an Attack, promised to be very\nPassive, and do all they desired, therefore they shut the Door, took down\nall the Arms that hung in the Hall, and loaded them. _Davis_ fires his\nPistol thro' the Window, upon which his Men, without, executed their Part\nof the Scheme, like Heroes, in an Instant; getting betwixt the Soldiers and\ntheir Arms, all with their Pistols cock'd in their Hands, while one of them\ncarried the Arms out. When this was done, they locked the Soldiers into the\nGuard-Room, and kept Guard without.\nIn the mean Time one of them struck the Union Flag on the Top of the\nCastle, at which Signal those on Board sent on Shore a Reinforcement of\nHands, and they got Possession of the Fort without the least Hurry or\nConfusion, or so much as a Man lost of either Side.\n_Davis_ harangued the Soldiers, upon which a great many of them took on\nwith him, those who refused, he sent on Board the little Sloop, and because\nhe would not be at the Trouble of a Guard for them, he ordered all the\nSails and Cables out of her, which might hinder them from attempting to get\naway.\nThis Day was spent in a kind of Rejoycing, the Castle firing her Guns to\nsalute the Ship, and the Ship the Castle; but the next Day they minded\ntheir Business, that is, they fell to plundering, but they found Things\nfall vastly short of their Expectation; for they discovered, that a great\ndeal of Money had been lately sent away; however, they met with the Value\nof about two thousand Pounds Sterling in Bar Gold, and a great many other\nrich Effects: Every Thing they liked, which was portable, they brought\naboard their Ship; some Things which they had no Use for, they were so\ngenerous to make a Present of, to the Master and Crew of the little Sloop,\nto whom they also returned his Vessel again, and then they fell to work in\ndismounting the Guns, and demolishing the Fortifications.\nAfter they had done as much Mischief as they could, and were weighing\nAnchor to be gone, they spy'd a Ship bearing down upon them in full Sail;\nthey soon got their Anchor's up, and were in a Readiness to receive her.\nThis Ship prov'd to be a _French_ Pyrate of fourteen Guns and sixty four\nHands, half _French_, half Negroes; the Captain's Name was _La Bouse_; he\nexpected no less than a rich Prize, which made him so eager in the Chace;\nbut when he came near enough to see their Guns, and the Number of their\nHands upon Deck, he began to think he should catch a _Tartar_, and supposed\nher to be a small _English_ Man of War; however, since there was no\nescaping, he resolved to do a bold and desperate Action, which was to board\n_Davis_. As he was making towards her, for this Purpose, he fired a Gun,\nand hoisted his black Colours; _Davis_ returned the Salute, and hoisted his\nblack Colours also. The _French_ Man was not a little pleased at this happy\nMistake; they both hoisted out their Boats, and the Captains went to meet\nand congratulate one another with a Flag of Truce in their Sterns; a great\nmany Civilities passed between them, and _La Bouse_ desired _Davis_, that\nthey might sail down the Coast together, that he _(La Bouse)_ might get a\nbetter Ship: _Davis_ agreed to it, and very courteously promised him the\nfirst Ship he took, fit for his Use, he would give him, as being willing to\nencourage a willing Brother.\nThe first Place they touch'd at, was _Sierraleon_, where at first going in,\nthey spied a tall Ship at Anchor; _Davis_ being the best Sailor first came\nup with her, and wondering that she did not try to make off, suspected her\nto be a Ship of Force. As soon as he came along Side of her, she brought a\nSpring upon her Cable, and fired a whole Broadside upon _Davis_, at the\nsame Time hoisted a black Flag; _Davis_ hoisted his black Flag in like\nManner, and fired one Gun to Leeward.\nIn fine, she proved to be a Pyrate Ship of twenty four Guns, commanded by\none _Cocklyn_, who expecting these two would prove Prizes, let them come\nin, least his getting under Sail might frighten them away.\nThis Satisfaction was great on all Sides, at this Junction of Confederates\nand Brethren in Iniquity; two Days they spent in improving their\nAcquaintance and Friendship, the third Day _Davis_ and _Cocklyn_, agreed to\ngo in _La Bouse_'s Brigantine and attack the Fort; they contrived it so, as\nto get up thither by high Water; those in the Fort suspected them to be\nwhat they really were, and therefore stood upon their Defence; when the\nBrigantine came within Musket-Shot, the Fort fired all their Guns upon her,\nthe Brigantine did the like upon the Fort, and so held each other in Play\nfor several Hours, when the two confederate Ships were come up to the\nAssistance of the Brigantine; those who defended the Fort, seeing such a\nNumber of Hands on Board these Ships, had not the Courage to stand it any\nlonger, but abandoning the Fort, left it to the Mercy of the Pyrates.\nThey took Possession of it, and continued there near seven Weeks, in which\nTime they all cleaned their Ships. We should have observed, that a Galley\ncame into the Road while they were there, which _Davis_ insisted should be\nyielded to _La Bouse_, according to his Word of Honour before given;\n_Cocklyn_ did not oppose it, so _La Bouse_ went into her, with his Crew,\nand cutting away her half Deck, mounted her with twenty four Guns.\nHaving called a Counsel of War, they agreed to sail down the Coast\ntogether, and for the greater Grandeur, appointed a Commadore, which was\n_Davis_; but they had not kept Company long, when drinking together on\nBoard of _Davis_, they had like to have fallen together by the Ears, the\nstrong Liquor stirring up a Spirit of Discord among them, and they\nquarrelled, but _Davis_ put an End to it, by this short Speech:--_Heark ye,\nyou_ Cocklin _and_ La Bouse, _I find by strengthening you, I have put a Rod\ninto your Hands to whip my self, but I'm still able to deal with you both;\nbut since we met in Love, let us part in Love, for I find, that three of a\nTrade can never agree_.--Upon which the other two went on Board their\nrespective Ships, and immediately parted, each steering a different Course.\n_Davis_ held on his Way down the Coast, and making Cape _Appollonia_, he\nmet with two _Scotch_ and one _English_ Vessel, which he plundered, and\nthen let go. About five Days after he fell in with a _Dutch_ Interloper of\nthirty Guns and ninety Men, (half being _English_,) off Cape _Three Points_\nBay; _Davis_ coming up along Side of her, the _Dutch_ Man gave the first\nFire, and pouring in a broad-Side upon _Davis_, killed nine of his Men,\n_Davis_ returned it, and a very hot Engagement followed, which lasted from\none a Clock at Noon, till nine next Morning, when the _Dutch_ Man struck,\nand yielded her self their Prize.\n_Davis_ fitted up the _Dutch_ Ship for his own Use, and called her the\n_Rover_, aboard of which he mounted thirty two Guns, and twenty seven\nSwivels, and proceeded with her and the _King James_, to _Anamaboe_; he\nentered the Bay betwixt the Hours of twelve and one at Noon, and found\nthere three Ships lying at Anchor, who were trading for Negroes, Gold and\nTeeth: The Names of these Ships were the _Hink_ Pink, Captain _Hall_\nCommander, the _Princess_, Captain _Plumb_, of which _Roberts_, who will\nmake a considerable Figure in the sequel of this History, was second Mate,\nand the _Morrice_ Sloop, Captain _Fin_; he takes these Ships without any\nResistance, and having plundered them, he makes a Present of one of them,\n_viz._ the _Morrice_ Sloop, to the _Dutch_ Men, on Board of which alone\nwere found a hundred and forty Negroes, besides dry Goods, and a\nconsiderable Quantity of Gold-Dust.\nIt happened there were several Canoes along Side of this last, when _Davis_\ncame in, who saved themselves and got ashore; these gave Notice at the\nFort, that these Ships were Pyrates, upon which the Fort fired upon them,\nbut without any Execution, for their Mettle was not of Weight enough to\nreach them; _Davis_ therefore, by Way of Defiance, hoisted his black Flag\nand returned their Compliment.\nThe same Day he sail'd with his three Ships, making his Way down the Coast\ntowards _Princes_, a _Portuguese_ Colony: But, before we proceed any\nfarther in _Davis_'s Story, we shall give our Reader an Account of the\n_Portuguese_ Settlements on this Coast, with other curious Remarks, as they\nwere communicated to me by an ingenious Gentleman, lately arrived from\nthose Parts.\n_A Description of the Islands of_ St. THOME, DEL PRINCIPE, _and_\nANNOBONO.\nAS the _Portuguese_ were the great Improvers of Navigation, and the\nfirst _Europeans_ who traded too and settled on the Coasts of _Africa_,\neven round to _India_, and made those Discoveries, which now turn so much\nto the Advantage of other Nations, it may not be amiss, previously to a\nDescription of those Islands, to hint on that wonderful Property of the\nLoadstone, that a little before had been found out, and enabled them to\npursue such new and daring Navigations.\nThe attractive Power of the Loadstone, was universally known with the\nAncients, as may be believed by its being a native Fossil of the\n_Grecians_, (_Magnes a Magnesia_) but its directive, or polar Virtue, has\nonly been known to us within this 350 Years, and said to be found out by\n_John Goia_ of _Malphi_, in the Kingdom of _Naples, Prima dedit nautis usum\nmagnetis Amalphi_; tho' others think, and assure us, it was transported by\n_Paulus Venetus_ from _China_ to _Italy_, like the other famous Arts of\nmodern Use with us, PRINTING and _the Use of_ GUNS.\nThe other Properties of Improvements of the Magnet, _viz._ Variation, or\nits Defluction from an exact N. or S. Line, Variation of that Variation,\nand its Inclination, were the Inventions of _Sebastian Cabot_, Mr.\n_Gellibrand_, and Mr. _Norman_; the Inclination of the Needle, or that\nProperty whereby it keeps an Elevation above the Horizon, in all Places but\nunder the Equator, (where its Parallel) is as surprizing a Ph\u00e6nomenon as\nany, and was the Discovery of our Countrymen; and could it be found\nregular, I imagine would very much help towards the Discovery of Longitude,\nat least would point out better Methods than hitherto known, when Ships\ndrew nigh Land, which would answer as useful an End.\nBefore the Verticity and Use of the Compass, the _Portuguese_ Navigations\nhad extended no farther than Cape _Non_, (it was their _ne plus ultra_,)\nand therefore so called; distress of Weather, indeed, had drove some\nCoasters to _Porto Santo_, and _Madera_, before any certain Method of\nsteering was invented; but after the Needle was seen thus inspired,\nNavigation every Year improved under the great Incouragements of _Henry,\nAlphonsus_, and _John_ II. Kings of _Portugal_, in Part of the 14th and in\nthe 15th Century.\nKing _Alphonsus_ was not so much at leasure as his Predecessor, to pursue\nthese Discoveries, but having seen the Advantages accrued to _Portugal_ by\nthem, and that the Pope had confirmed the perpetual Donation of all they\nshould discover between Cape _Bajadore_ and _India_, inclusively, he\nresolved not to neglect the proper Assistance, and farmed the Profits that\ndid or might ensue to one _Bernard Gomez_, a Citizen of _Lisbon_, who was\nevery Voyage obliged to discover 100 Leagues, still farther on: And about\nthe Year 1470 made these Islands, the only Places (of all the considerable\nand large Colonies they had in _Africa_,) that do now remain to that Crown.\nSt. _Thome_ is the principal of the three, whose Governour is stiled\nCaptain General of the Islands, and from whom the other at _Princes_\nreceives his Commission, tho' nominated by the Court of _Portugal_: It is a\nBishoprick with a great many secular Clergy who appear to have neither\nLearning nor Devotion, as may be judged by several of them being Negroes:\nOne of the Chief of them, invited us to hear Mass, as a Diversion to pass\nTime away, where he, and his inferior Brethren acted such affected Gestures\nand Strains of Voice, as shewed to their Dishonour, they had no other Aim\nthan pleasing us; and what I think was still worse, it was not without a\nView of Interest; for as these Clergy are the chief Traders, they stoop to\npitiful and scandalous Methods for ingratiating themselves: They and the\nGovernment, on this trading Account, maintain as great Harmony, being ever\njealous of each other, and practising little deceitful Arts to monopolize\nwhat Strangers have to offer for sale, whether Toys or Cloaths, which of\nall Sorts are ever Commodious with the _Portuguese_, in all Parts of the\nWorld; an ordinary Suit of Black will sell for seven or eight Pound; a\nTurnstile Wig of four Shillings, for a Moidore; a Watch of forty Shillings,\nfor six Pound, _&c_.\nThe Town is of mean Building, but large and populous, the Residence of the\ngreater Part of the Natives, who, thro' the whole Island, are computed at\n10000, the Militia at 3000, and are in general, a rascally thievish\nGeneration, as an old grave Friend of mine can Witness; for he having\ncarried a Bag of second hand Cloaths on Shore, to truck for Provisions,\nseated himself on the Sand for that Purpose, presently gathered a Crowd\nround him, to view them; one of which desired to know the Price of a black\nSuit, that unluckily lay uppermost, and was the best of them, agreeing to\nthe Demand, with little Hesitation, provided it would but fit him; he put\nthem on immediately, in as much hurry as possible, without any _co-licentia\nSeignor_; and when my Friend was about to commend the Goodness of the Suit,\nand Exactness they set with, not dreaming of the Impudence of running away\nfrom a Crowd, the Rascal took to his Heels, my Friend followed and bawled\nvery much, and tho' there was 500 People about the Place, it served to no\nother End but making him a clear Stage, that the best Pair of Heels might\ncarry it; so he lost the Suit of Cloaths, and before he could return to his\nBag, others of them had beat off his Servant, and shared the rest.\nMost of the Ships from _Guiney_, of their own Nation, and frequently those\nof ours, call at one or other of these Islands, to recruit with fresh\nProvisions, and take in Water, which on the Coast are not so good, nor so\nconveniently to come by: Their own Ships likewise, when they touch here,\nare obliged to leave the King his Custom for their Slaves, which is always\nin Gold, at so much a Head, without any Deduction at _Brasil_, for the\nMortality that may happen afterwards; this by being a constant Bank to pay\noff the civil and military Charges of the Government, prevents the\nInconveniency of Remittances, and keeps both it and _Princes_ Isle rich\nenough to pay ready Money for every Thing they want of _Europeans_.\nTheir Beefs are small and lean, (two hundred Weight or a little more,) but\nthe Goats, Hogs and Fowls very good, their Sugar course and dirty, and Rum\nvery ordinary; as these Refreshments lay most with People who are in want\nof other Necessaries, they come to us in Way of bartering, very cheap: A\ngood Hog for an old Cutlash; a fat Fowl for a Span of _Brasil_ Tobacco, (no\nother Sort being valued, _&c_.) But with Money you give eight Dollars _per_\nHead for Cattle; three Dollars for a Goat; six Dollars for a grown Hog; a\nTestune and a Half for a Fowl; a Dollar _per_ Gallon for Rum; two Dollars a\nRoove for Sugar; and half a Dollar for a Dozen of Paraquets: Here is Plenty\nlikewise of Corn and Farine, of Limes, Citrons and Yamms.\nThe Island is reckoned nigh a Square, each Side 18 Leagues long, hilly, and\nlays under the _\u00c6quinoctial_, a wooden Bridge just without the Town, being\nsaid not to deviate the least Part of a Minute, either to the Southward or\nNorthward; and notwithstanding this warm Scituation, and continual vertical\nSuns, the Islanders are very healthy, imputed by those who are disposed to\nbe merry, in a great Measure to the Want of even so much as one Surgeon or\nPhysician amongst them.\nIsle _Del Principe_, the next in Magnitude, a pleasant and delightful Spot\nto the grave, and thoughtfull Disposition of the _Portuguese_, an\nImprovement of Country Retirement, in that, this may be a happy and\nuninterrupted Retreat from the whole World.\nI shall divide what I have to say on this Island, into Observations made on\nour Approach to it, on the Seas round it, the Harbour, Produce of the\nIsland and Seasons, Way of Living among the Inhabitants, some Custom of the\nNegroes, with such proper Deductions on each as may illustrate the\nDescription, and inform the Reader.\nWe were bound hither from _Whydah_, at the latter Part of the Month _July_,\nwhen the Rains are over, and the Winds hang altogether S. W. (as they do\nbefore the Rains, S. E.) yet with this Wind (when at Sea) we found the Ship\ngained unexpectedly so far to the Southward, (_i. e._ Windward,) that we\ncould with ease have weathered any of the Islands, and this seems next to\nimpossible should be, if the Currents, which were strong to Leeward, in the\nRoad of _Whydah_, had extended in like Manner cross the Bite of _Benin_:\nNo, it must then have been very difficult to have weathered even Cape\n_Formosa_: On this Occasion, I shall farther expatiate upon the Currents on\nthe whole Coast of _Guiney_.\nThe Southern Coast of _Africa_ runs in a Line of Latitude, the Northern on\nan Eastern Line, but both strait, with the fewest Inlets, Gulphs or Bays,\nof either of the four Continents; the only large and remarkable one, is\nthat of _Benin_ and _Calabar_, towards which the Currents of each Coast\ntend, and is strongest from the Southward, because more open to a larger\nSea, whose rising it is (tho' little and indiscernable at any Distance from\nthe Land,) that gives rise to these Currents close in Shore, which are\nnothing but Tides altered and disturbed by the Make and Shape of Lands.\nFor Proof of this, I shall lay down the following Observations as certain\nFacts. That in the Rivers of _Gambia_ and _Sierraleon_, in the Straits and\nChannels of _Benin_, and in general along the whole Coast, the Flowings are\nregular on the Shores, with this Difference; that, in the abovemention'd\nRivers, and in the Channels of _Benin_, where the Shore contract the Waters\ninto a narrow Compass, the Tides are strong and high, as well as regular;\nbut on the dead Coast, where it makes an equal Reverberation, slow and low,\n(not to above two or three Foot,) increasing as you advance towards\n_Benin_; and this is farther evident in that at Cape _Corso, Succonda_ and\n_Commenda_, and where the Land rounds and gives any Stop, the Tides flow\nregularly to four Foot and upwards; when on an evener Coast, (tho' next\nadjoining,) they shall not exceed two or three Foot; and ten Leagues out at\nSea, (where no such Interruption is,) they become scarcely, if at all,\nperceptible.\nWhat I would deduce from this, besides a Confirmation of that ingenious\nTheory of the Tides, by Captain _Halley_; is first, that the Ships bound to\n_Angola, Cabenda_, and other Places on the Southern Coast of _Africa_,\nshould cross the _\u00c6quinoctial_ from Cape _Palmas_, and run into a Southern\nLatitude, without keeping too far to the Westward; and the Reason seems\nplain, for if you endeavour to cross it about the Islands, you meet Calms,\nsoutherly Winds and opposite Currents; and if too far to the Westward, the\ntrade Winds are strong and unfavourable; for it obliges you to stand into\n28 or 30\u00b0 Southern Latitude, till they are variable.\nSecondly, On the Northern Side of _Guiney_, if Ships are bound from the\n_Gold-Coast_ to _Sierraleon, Gambia_, or elsewhere to Windward, considering\nthe Weakness of these Currents, and the Favourableness of Land Breezes, and\nSoutherly in the Rains, Turnadoes, and even of the Trade Wind, when\na-breast of Cape _Palmas_, it is more expeditious to pursue the Passage\nthis Way, than by a long perambulatory Course of 4 or 500 Leagues to the\nWestward, and as many more to the Northward, which must be before a Wind\ncan be obtained, that could recover the Coast.\nLastly, it is, in a great Measure, owning to this want of Inlets, and the\nRivers being small and unnavigable, that the Seas rebound with so dangerous\na Surff thro' the whole Continent.\nRound the Shores of this Island, and at this Season, _(July, August_ and\n_September_,) there is a great Resort of Whale-Fish, tame, and sporting\nvery nigh the Ships as they sail in, always in Pairs, the Female much the\nsmaller, and often seen to turn on their Backs for Dalliance, the Prologue\nto engendring: It has an Enemy, called the Thresher, a large Fish too, that\nhas its Haunts here at this Season, and encounters the Whale, raising\nhimself out of the Water a considerable Heighth, and falling again with\ngreat Weight and Force; it is commonly said also, that there is a Sword\nFish in these Battles, who pricks the Whale up to the Surface again, but\nwithout this, I believe, he would suffocate when put to quick Motions,\nunless frequently approaching the Air, to ventilate and remove the\nimpediments to a swifter Circulation: Nor do I think he is battled for\nPrey, but to remove him from what is perhaps the Food of both. The Number\nof Whales here has put me sometimes on thinking an advantageous Fishery\nmight be made of it, but I presume they (no more than those of _Brasil)_\nare the Sort which yield the profitable Part, called Whale-Bone: All\ntherefore that the Islanders do, is now and then to go out with two or\nthree Canoes, and set on one for Diversion.\nThe Rocks and outer Lines of the Island, are the Haunts of variety of\nSea-Birds, especially Boobies and Noddies; the former are of the Bigness of\na Gull, and a dark Colour, named so from their Simplicity, because they\noften sit still and let the Sailors take them up in their Hands; but I\nfancy this succeeds more frequently from their Weariness, and the Largeness\nof their Wings, which, when they once have rested, cannot have the Scope\nnecessary to raise and float them on the Air again. The Noddies are smaller\nand flat footed also.\nWhat I would remark more of them, is, the admirable Instinct in these\nBirds, for the proper Seasons, and the proper Places for Support. In the\naforemention'd Months, when the large Fish were here, numerous Flocks of\nFowl attend for the Spawn and Superfluity of their Nourishment; and in\n_January_ few of either; for the same Reason, there are scarce any Sea Fowl\nseen on the _African_ Coast; Rocks and Islands being generally their best\nSecurity and Subsistance.\nThe Harbour of _Princes_ is at the E. S. E. Point of the Island; the\nNorth-Side has gradual Soundings, but here deep Water, having no Ground at\na Mile off with 140 Fathom of Line. The Port (when in) is a smooth narrow\nBay, safe from Winds, (unless a little Swell when Southerly) and draughted\ninto other smaller and sandy Ones, convenient for raising of Tents,\nWatering, and hawling the Seam; the whole protected by a Fort, or rather\nBattery, of a dozen Guns on the Larboard-Side. At the Head of the Bay\nstands the Town, about a Mile from the anchoring Place, and consists of two\nor three regular Streets, of wooden built Houses, where the Governor and\nchief Men of the Island reside. Here the Water grows shallow for a\nconsiderable Distance, and the Natives, at every Ebb, (having before\nencompassed every convenient Angle with a Rise of Stones, something like\nWeirs in _England_) resort for catching of Fish, which, with them, is a\ndaily Diversion, as well as Subsistance, 500 attending with Sticks and\nwicker Baskets; and if they cannot dip them with one Hand, they knock them\ndown with the other. The Tides rise regularly 6 Foot in the Harbour, and\nyet not half that Heighth without the Capes that make the Bay.\nHere are constantly two Missionaries, who are sent for six Years to\ninculcate the Christian Principles, and more especially attend the\nConversion of the Negroes; the present are _Venetians_, ingenious Men, who\nseem to despise the loose Morals and Behaviour of the Seculars, and\ncomplain of them as of the Slaves, _ut Color Mores sunt nigri_. They have a\nneat Conventual-House and a Garden appropriated, which, by their own\nIndustry and Labour, not only thrives with the several Natives of the Soil,\nbut many Exoticks and Curiosities. A Fruit in particular, larger than a\nChesnut, yellow, containing two Stones, with a Pulp, or clammy Substance\nabout them, which, when suck'd, exceeds in Sweetness, Sugar or Honey, and\nhas this Property beyond them, of giving a sweet Taste to every Liquid you\nswallow for the whole Evening after. The only Plague infesting the Garden,\nis a Vermin called Land-Crabs, in vast Numbers, of a bright red Colour, (in\nother Respects like the Sea ones) which burrough in these sandy Soils like\nRabbets, and are as shy.\nThe Island is a pleasant Intermixture of Hill and Valley; the Hills spread\nwith Palms, Coco-Nuts, and Cotton-Trees, with Numbers of Monkeys and\nParrots among them; the Valleys with fruitful Plantations of _Yamms,\nKulalu, Papas_, Variety of Sallating, _Ananas_, or Pine-Apples, _Guavas,\nPlantanes, Bonanas, Manyocos_, and _Indian_ Corn; with Fowls, _Guinea_\nHens, _Muscovy_ Ducks, Goats, Hogs, Turkies, and wild Beefs, with each a\nlittle Village of Negroes, who, under the Direction of their several\nMasters, manage the Cultivation, and exchange or sell them for Money, much\nafter the same Rates with the People of St. _Thome_.\nI shall run a Description of the Vegetables, with their Properties, not\nonly because they are the Produce of this Island, but most of them of\n_Africa_ in general.\nThe Palm-Trees are numerous on the Shores of _Africa_, and may be reckoned\nthe first of their natural Curiosities, in that they afford them Meat,\nDrink and Cloathing; they grow very straight to 40 and 50 Foot high, and at\nthe top (only) have 3 or 4 Circles of Branches, that spread and make a\ncapacious Umbrella. The Trunk is very rough with Knobs, either\nExcrescencies, or the Healings of those Branches that were lopped off to\nforward the Growth of the Tree, and make it answer better in its Fruit. The\nBranches are strongly tied together with a _Cortex_, which may be\nunravelled to a considerable Length and Breadth; the inward _Lamella_ of\nthis _Cortex_, I know are wove like a Cloath at _Benin_, and afterwards\ndied and worn: Under the Branches, and close to the Body of the Tree, hang\nthe Nuts, thirty Bunches perhaps on a Tree, and each of thirty Pound\nWeight, with prickly Films from between them, not unresembling Hedge-Hogs;\nof these Nuts comes a liquid and pleasant scented Oyl, used as Food and\nSauce all over the Coast, but chiefly in the Windward Parts of _Africa_,\nwhere they stamp, boil and skim it off in great Quantities; underneath,\nwhere the Branches fasten, they tap for Wine, called _Cockra_, in this\nManner; the Negroes who are mostly limber active Fellows, encompass\nthemselves and the Trees with a Hoop of strong With, and run up with a\ngreat deal of Agility; at the Bottom of a Branch of Nuts, he makes an\nExcavation of an Inch and a half over, and tying fast his Calabash, leaves\nit to destil, which it does to two or three Quarts in a Night's Time, when\ndone he plugs it up, and chooses another; for if suffered to run too much,\nor in the Day Time, the Sap is unwarily exhausted, and the Tree spoiled:\nThe Liquor thus drawn, is of a wheyish Colour, intoxicating and sours in 24\nHours, but when new drawn, is _pleasantest to thirst and hunger both_: It\nis from these Wines they draw their Arack in _India_. On the very Top of\nthe Palm, grows a Cabbage, called so, I believe, from some resemblance its\nTast is thought to have with ours, and is used like it; the Covering has a\nDown that makes the best of Tinder, and the Weavings of other Parts are\ndrawn out into strong Threads.\n_Coco-Nut-Trees_ are branch'd like, but not so tall as, _Palm_ Trees, the\nNut like them, growing under the Branches, and close to the Trunk; the\nmilky Liquor they contain, (to half a Pint or more,) is often drank to\nquench Thirst, but surfeiting, and this may be observed in their Way of\nNourishment, that when the Quantity of Milk is large, the Shell and Meat\nare very thin, and harden and thicken in Proportion, as that loses.\n_Cotton_ Trees also are the Growth of all Parts of _Africk_, as well as the\nIslands, of vast Bigness, yet not so incremental as the Shrubs or Bushes of\nfive or six Foot high; these bear a Fruit (if it may be so called) about\nthe Bigness of Pigeons Eggs, which as the Sun swells and ripens, bursts\nforth and discovers three Cells loaded with Cotton, and Seeds in the Middle\nof them: This in most Parts the Negroes know how to spin, and here at\n_Nicongo_ and the Island St. _Jago_, how to weave into Cloths.\n_Yamms_ are a common Root, sweeter but not unlike Potato's: _Kulalu_, a\nHerb like Spinnage: _Papa_, a Fruit less than the smallest Pumkins; they\nare all three for boiling, and to be eat with Meat; the latter are improved\nby the _English_ into a Turnip or an Apple Tast, with a due Mixture of\nButter or Limes.\n_Guava's_, a Fruit as large as a Pipin, with Seeds and Stones in it, of an\nuncouth astringing Tast, tho' never so much be said in Commendation of it,\nat the _West-Indies_, it is common for _Cr\u00e6olians_, (who has tasted both,)\nto give it a Preference to Peach or Nectarine, no amazing Thing when Men\nwhose Tasts are so degenerated, as to prefer a Toad in a Shell, (as _Ward_\ncalls Turtle,) to Venison, and Negroes to fine _English_ Ladies.\n_Plantanes_ and _Bonano's_ are Fruit of oblong Figure, that I think differ\nonly _secundum Major & Minus_, if any, the latter are preferable, and by\nbeing less, are juicier; they are usually, when stripped of their Coat, eat\nat Meals instead of Bread: The Leaf of this Plantane is an admirable\nDetergent, and, externally applied, I have seen cure the most obstinate\nscorbutick Ulcers.\n_Manyoco_. A Root that shoots its Branches about the heighth of a Currant\nBush; from this Root the Islanders make a Farine or Flower, which they sell\nat three Ryals a Roove, and drive a considerable Trade for it with the\nShips that call in. The manner of making it, is first to press the Juice\nfrom it, (which is poisonous) done here with Engines, and then the Negroe\nWomen, upon a rough Stone, rub it into a granulated Flower, reserved in\ntheir Houses, either to boil, as we do our Wheat, and is a hearty Food for\nthe Slaves; or make it into a Bread, fine, white, and well tasted, for\nthemselves. One thing worth taking Notice about _Manyoco_ in this Island,\nis, that the Woods abound with a wild poisonous and more mortiferous Sort,\nwhich sometimes Men, unskilled in the Preparation of it, feed on to their\nDestruction: This the Missionaries assured me they often experimented in\ntheir Hogs, and believed we did in the Mortality of our Sailors.\n_Indian Corn_, is likewise as well as the _Farine de Manyoco_ and Rice, the\ncommon Victualling of our Slave Ships, and is afforded here at 1000 Heads\nfor two Dollars. This Corn grows eight or nine Foot high, on a hard Reed or\nStick, shooting forth at every six Inches Heighth, some long Leaves; it has\nalways an Ear, or rather Head, at top, of, perhaps, 400 Fold Increase; and\noften two, three, or more, Midway.\nHere are some Tamarind Trees; another called _Cola_, whose Fruit, or Nut\n(about twice the Bigness of a Chestnut, and bitter) is chewed by the\n_Portugueze_, to give a sweet Gust to their Water which they drink; but\nabove all, I was shewn the Bark of one (whose Name I do not know) gravely\naffirm'd to have a peculiar Property of enlarging the Virile Member; I am\nnot fond of such Conceits, nor believe it in the Power of any Vegetables,\nbut must acknowledge, I have seen Sights of this kind among the Negroes\nvery extraordinary; yet, that there may be no Wishes among the Ladies for\nthe Importation of this Bark, I must acquaint them, that they are found to\ngrow less merry, as they encrease in Bulk. I had like to have forgot their\nCinnamon Trees; there is only one Walk of them, and is the Entrance of the\nGovernor's Villa; they thrive extreemly well, and the Bark not inferior to\nour Cinnamon from _India_; why they and other Spice, in a Soil so proper,\nreceive no farther Cultivation, is, probably, their Suspicion, that so rich\na Produce, might make some potent Neighbour take a Fancy to the Island.\nThey have two Winters, or rather Springs, and two Summers: Their Winters,\nwhich are the rainy Seasons, come in _September_ and _February_, or\n_March_, and hold two Months, returning that Fatness and generative Power\nto the Earth, as makes it yield a double Crop every Year, with little Sweat\nor Labour.\n_Hic Ver Assiduum atque Alienis Mensibus \u00c6stas --Bis gravid\u00e6\nPecudes, bis Pomis utilis arbos_.\nTheir first coming is with _Travado_'s, _i. e._ sudden and hard Gusts of\nWind, with Thunder, Lightning and heavy Showers, but short; and the next\nnew or full Moon at those Times of the Year, infallibly introduces the\nRains, which once begun, fall with little Intermission, and are observed\ncoldest in _February_. Similar to these are rainy Seasons also over all the\nCoast of _Africa_: If there may be allowed any general Way of calculating\ntheir Time, they happen from the Course of the Sun, as it respects the\n_\u00c6quinoctial_ only; for if these _\u00c6quinoxes_ prove rainy Seasons all over\nthe World (as I am apt to think they are) whatever secret Cause operates\nwith that Station of the Sun to produce them, will more effectually do it\nin those vicine Latitudes; and therefore, as the Sun advances, the Rains\nare brought on the _Whydah_ and Gold Coast, by _April_, and on the\nWindwardmost Part of _Guiney_ by _May_: The other Season of the Sun's\nreturning to the Southward, make them more uncertain and irregular in\nNorthern _Africa_; but then to the Southward again, they proceed in like\nmanner, and are at Cape _Lopez_ in _October_, at _Angola_ in _November_,\nThe Manner of living among the _Portugueze_ here is, with the utmost\nFrugality and Temperance, even to Penury and Starving; a familiar Instance\nof Proof is, in the Voracity of their Dogs, who finding such clean\nCupboards at home, are wild in a manner with Hunger, and tare up the Graves\nof the Dead for Food, as I have often seen: They themselves are lean with\nCovetousness, and that Christian Vertue, which is often the Result of it,\nSelfdenyal; and would train up their Cattle in the same way, could they\nfetch as much Money, or had not they their Provision more immediately of\nProvidence. The best of them (excepting the Governor now and then) neither\npay nor receive any Visits of Escapade or Recreation; they meet and sit\ndown at each others Doors in the Street every Evening, and as few of them,\nin so small an Island, can have their Plantations at any greater Distance,\nthan that they may see it every Day if they will, so the Subject of their\nTalk is mostly how Affairs went there, with their Negroes, or their Ground,\nand then part with one another innocently, but empty.\nThe Negroes have yet no hard Duty with them, they are rather Happy in\nSlavery; for as their Food is chiefly Vegetables, that could no way else be\nexpended, there is no Murmurs bred on that account; and as their Business\nis Domestick, either in the Services of the House, or in Gardening, Sowing,\nor Planting, they have no more than what every Man would prefer for Health\nand Pleasure; the hardest of their Work is the Carriage of their Pateroons,\nor their Wives, to and from the Plantations; this they do in Hammocks\n(call'd at _Whydah, Serpentines_) slung cross a Pole, with a Cloath over,\nto screen the Person, so carried, from Sun and Weather, and the Slaves are\nat each End; and yet even this, methinks, is better than the specious\nLiberty a Man has for himself and his Heirs to work in a Coal Mine.\nThe Negroes are, most of them, thro' the Care of their Patroons,\nChristians, at least nominal, but excepting to some few, they adhere still\nto many silly Pagan Customs in their Mournings and Rejoycings, and in some\nMeasure, powerful Majority has introduced them with the Vulgar of the\n_Mulatto_ and _Portugueze_ Race.\nIf a Person die in that Colour, the Relations and Friends of him meet at\nthe House, where the Corpse is laid out decently on the Ground and covered\n(all except the Face) with a Sheet; they sit round it, crying and howling\ndreadfully, not unlike what our Countrymen are said to do in _Ireland_:\nThis Mourning lasts for eight Days and Nights, but not equally intense, for\nas the Friends, who compose the Chorus, go out and in, are weary, and\nunequally affected, the Tone lessens daily, and the Intervals of Grief are\nlonger.\nIn Rejoycings and Festivals they are equally ridiculous; these are commonly\nmade on some Friend's Escape from Shipwreck, or other Danger: They meet in\na large Room of the House, with a Strum Strum, to which one of the Company,\nperhaps, sings wofully; the rest standing round the Room close to the\nPetitions, take it in their Turns (one or two at a time) to step round,\ncalled Dancing, the whole clapping their Hands continually, and hooping out\nevery Minute _Abeo_, which signify no more, than, _how do you_. And this\nfoolish Mirth will continue three or four Days together at a House, and\nperhaps twelve or sixteen Hours at a time.\nThe _Portugueze_, tho' eminently abstemious and temperate in all other\nThings, are unbounded in their Lusts; and perhaps they substitute the\nformer in room of a Surgeon, as a Counterpoison to the Mischiefs of a\npromiscuous Salacity: They have most of them Venereal Taints, and with Age\nbecome meager and hectick: I saw two Instances here of Venereal Ulcers that\nhad cancerated to the Bowels, Spectacles that would have effectually\nperswaded Men (I think) how Salutary the Restriction of Laws are.\n_Annobono_ is the last, and of the least Consequence of the three Islands;\nthere are Plenty of Fruits and Provisions, exchanged to Ships for old\nCloaths and Trifles of any Sort; they have a Governor nominated from St.\n_Thome_, and two or three Priests, neither of which are minded, every one\nliving at Discretion, and fill'd with Ignorance and Lust.\nTo return to _Davis_, the next Day after he left _Anamaboe_, early in the\nMorning, the Man at the Mast-Head espied a Sail. It must be observed, they\nkeep a good Look-out; for, according to their Articles, he who first espies\na Sail, if she proves a Prize, is entitled to the best Pair of Pistols on\nBoard, over and above his Dividend, in which they take a singular Pride;\nand a Pair of Pistols has sometimes been sold for thirty Pounds, from one\nto another.\nImmediately they gave Chace, and soon came up with her; the Ship proved to\nbe a _Hollander_, and being betwixt _Davis_ and the Shore, she made all the\nSail she could, intending to run aground; _Davis_ guessed her Design, and\nputting out all his small Sails, came up with her before she could effect\nit, and fired a Broad-side, upon which she immediately struck, and called\nfor Quarter. It was granted, for according to _Davis_'s Articles, it was\nagreed, that Quarter should be given whenever it was called for, upon Pain\nof Death. This Ship proved a very rich Prize, having the Governor of _Acra_\non Board, with all his Effects, going to _Holland_; there was in Money to\nthe Value of 15000 _l._ Sterling, besides other valuable Merchandizes, all\nwhich they brought on Board of themselves.\nUpon this new Success, they restored Captain _Hall_ and Captain _Plumb_,\nbefore-mentioned, their Ships again, but strengthened their Company with\nthirty five Hands, all white Men, taken out of these two and the _Morrice_\nSloop; they also restored the _Dutch_ their Ship, after having plunder'd\nher, as is mentioned.\nBefore they got to the Island of _Princes_, one of their Ships, _viz._ that\ncall'd the _King James_, sprung a Leak; _Davis_ order'd all Hands out of\nher, on Board his own Ship, with every thing else of Use, and left her at\nan Anchor at _High Cameroon_. As soon as he came in Sight of the Island, he\nhoisted _English_ Colours; the _Portuguese_ observing a large Ship sailing\ntowards them, sent out a little Sloop to examine what she might be; this\nSloop hailing of _Davis_, he told them he was an _English_ Man of War, in\nQuest of Pyrates, and that he had received Intelligence there were some\nupon that Coast; upon this they received him as a welcome Guest, and\npiloted him into the Harbour. He saluted the Fort, which they answered, and\nhe came to an Anchor just under their Guns, and hoisted out the Pinnace,\nMan of War Fashion, ordering nine Hands and a Coxen in it, to row him\nashore.\nThe _Portugueze_, to do him the greater Honour, sent down a File of\nMusqueteers to receive him, and conduct him to the Governor. The Governor\nnot in the least suspecting what he was, received him very civilly,\npromising to supply him with whatever the Island afforded; _Davis_ thanked\nhim, telling him, the King of _England_ would pay for whatever he should\ntake; so after several Civilities pass'd between him and the Governor, he\nreturned again on Board.\nIt happened a _French_ Ship came in there to supply it self with some\nNecessaries, which _Davis_ took into his Head to plunder, but to give the\nThing a Colour of Right, he persuaded the _Portugueze_, that she had been\ntrading with the Pyrates, and that he found several Pyrates Goods on Board,\nwhich he seized for the King's Use: This Story passed so well upon the\nGovernor, that he commended _Davis_'s Diligence.\nA few Days after, _Davis_, with about fourteen more, went privately ashore,\nand walk'd up the Country towards a Village, where the Governor and the\nother chief Men of the Island kept their Wives, in tending, as we may\nsuppose, to supply their Husbands Places with them; but being discovered,\nthe Women fled to a neighbouring Wood, and _Davis_ and the rest retreated\nto their Ship, without effecting their Design: The Thing made some Noise,\nbut as no body knew them, it passed over.\nHaving cleaned his Ship, and put all Things in Order, his Thoughts now were\nturned upon the main Business, _viz._ the Plunder of the Island, and not\nknowing where the Treasure lay, a Stratagem came into his Head, to get it\n(as he thought) with little Trouble, he consulted his Men upon it, and they\nliked the Design: His Scheme was, to make a Present to the Governor, of a\nDozen Negroes, by Way of Return for the Civilities received from him, and\nafterwards to invite him, with the chief Men, and some of the Friers, on\nBoard his Ship, to an Entertainment; the Minute they came on Board, they\nwere to be secured in Irons, and there kept till they should pay a Ransom\nof 40000 _l._ Sterling.\nBut this Stratagem proved fatal to him, for a _Portugueze_ Negroe swam\nashore in the Night, and discovered the whole Plot to the Governor, and\nalso let him know, that it was _Davis_ who had made the Attempt upon their\nWives. However, the Governor dissembled, received the Pyrates Invitation\ncivilly, and promised that he and the rest would go.\nThe next Day _Davis_ went on Shore himself, as if it were out of greater\nRespect to bring the Governor on Board: He was received with the usual\nCivility, and he, and other principal Pyrates, who, by the Way, had assumed\nthe Title of Lords, and as such took upon them to advise or councel their\nCaptain upon any important Occasion; and likewise held certain Priviledges,\nwhich the common Pyrates were debarr'd from, as walking the Quarter-Deck,\nusing the great Cabin, going ashore at Pleasure, and treating with foreign\nPowers, that is, with the Captains of Ships they made Prize of; I say,\n_Davis_ and some of the Lords were desired to walk up to the Governor's\nHouse, to take some Refreshment before they went on Board; they accepted it\nwithout the least Suspicion, but never returned again; for an Ambuscade was\nlaid, a Signal being given, a whole Volley was fired upon them; they every\nMan dropp'd, except one, this one fled back, and escaped into the Boat, and\ngot on Board the Ship: _Davis_ was shot through the Bowels, yet he rise\nagain, and made a weak Effort to get away, but his Strength soon forsook\nhim, and he dropp'd down dead; just as he fell, he perceived he was\nfollowed, and drawing out his Pistols, fired them at his Pursuers; Thus\nlike a game Cock, giving a dying Blow, that he might not fall unrevenged.\nCHAP. IX. OF Captain _Bartho. Roberts_, And his CREW.\nB_Artholomew Roberts_ sailed in an honest Employ, from _London_\naboard of the _Princess_, Captain _Plumb_ Commander, of which Ship he was\nsecond Mate: He left _England, November_ 1719, and arrived at _Guiney_\nabout _February_ following, and being at _Anamaboe_, taking in Slaves for\nthe _West-Indies_, was taken in the said Ship by Captain _Howel Davis_, as\nmentioned in the preceeding Chapter. In the beginning he was very averse to\nthis sort of Life, and would certainly have escaped from them, had a fair\nOpportunity presented it self; yet afterwards he changed his Principles, as\nmany besides him have done upon another Element, and perhaps for the same\nReason too, _viz._ Preferment,--and what he did not like as a private Man\nhe could reconcile to his Conscience as a Commander.\n_Davis_ being cut off in the manner beforementioned, the Company found\nthemselves under a Necessity of filling up his Post, for which there\nappear'd two or three Candidates among the select Part of them, that were\ndistinguish'd by the Title of Lords, such were _Sympson, Ashplant, Anstis_,\n&c. and on canvassing this Matter, how shatter'd and weak a Condition their\nGovernment must be without a Head, since _Davis_ had been remov'd, in the\nmanner beforemention'd, my Lord _Dennis_ propos'd, its said, over a Bowl to\nthis Purpose.\n_That it was not of any great Signification who was dignify'd with Title;\nfor really and in Truth, all good Governments had_ (_like theirs_) _the\nsupream Power lodged with the Community, who might doubtless depute and\nrevoke as suited Interest or Humour. We are the Original of this Claim_\n(says he) _and should a Captain be so sawcy as to exceed Prescription at\nany time_, why down with Him! _it will be a Caution after he is dead to his\nSuccessors, of what fatal Consequence any sort of assuming may be. However,\nit is my Advice, that, while we are sober, we pitch upon a Man of Courage,\nand skill'd in Navigation, one, who by his Council and Bravery seems best\nable to defend this Commonwealth, and ward us from the Dangers and Tempests\nof an instable Element, and the fatal Consequences of Anarchy; and such a\none I take_ Roberts _to be. A Fellow! I think, in all Respects, worthy your\nEsteem and Favour_.\nThis Speech was loudly applauded by all but Lord _Sympson_, who had secret\nExpectations himself, but on this Disappointment, grew sullen, and left\nthem, swearing, _he did not care who they chose Captain, so it was not a\nPapist, for against them he had conceiv'd an irreconcileable Hatred, for\nthat his Father had been a Sufferer in_ Monmouth_'s Rebellion_.\n_Roberts_ was accordingly elected, tho' he had not been above six Weeks\namong them, the Choice was confirm'd both by the Lords and Commoners, and\nhe accepted of the Honour, saying, _That since he had dipp'd his Hands in\nmuddy Water, and must be a Pyrate, it was better being a Commander than a\ncommon Man_.\nAs soon as the Government was settled, by promoting other Officers in the\nroom of those that were kill'd by the _Portugueze_, the Company resolv'd to\nrevenge Captain _Davis_'s Death, he being more than ordinarily respected by\nthe Crew for his Affability and good Nature, as well as his Conduct and\nBravery upon all Occasions; and pursuant to this Resolution, about 30 Men\nwere landed in order to make an Attack upon the Fort, which must be\nascended to by a steep Hill against the Mouth of the Cannon. These Men were\nheaded by one _Kennedy_, a bold daring Fellow, but very wicked and\nprofligate; they march'd directly up under the Fire of their Ship Guns, and\nas soon as they were discover'd, the _Portugueze_ quitted their Post and\nfled to the Town, and the Pyrates march'd in without Opposition, set Fire\nto the Fort, and threw all the Guns off the Hill into the Sea, which after\nthey had done, they retreated quietly to their Ship.\nBut this was not look'd upon as a sufficient Satisfaction for the Injury\nthey received, therefore most of the Company were for burning the Town,\nwhich _Roberts_ said he would yield to, if any Means could be proposed of\ndoing it without their own Destruction, for the Town had a securer\nScituation than the Fort, a thick Wood coming almost close to it, affording\nCover to the Defendants, who under such an Advantage, he told them, it was\nto be fear'd, would fire and stand better to their Arms; besides, that bare\nHouses would be but a slender Reward for their Trouble and Loss. This\nprudent Advice prevailed; however, they mounted the _French_ Ship, they\nseiz'd at this Place, with 12 Guns, and light'ned her, in order to come up\nto the Town, the Water being shoal, and battered down several Houses; after\nwhich they all returned on Board, gave back the _French_ Ship to those that\nhad most Right to her, and sailed out of the Harbour by the light of two\n_Portuguese_ Ships, which they were pleased to set on Fire there.\n_Roberts_ stood away to the Southward, and met with a _Dutch Guiney_ Man,\nwhich he made Prize of, but after having plundered her, the Skipper had his\nShip again: Two Days after, he took an _English_ Ship, called the\n_Experiment_, Captain _Cornet_, at _Cape Lopez_, the Men went all into the\nPyrate Service, and having no Occasion for the Ship, they burnt her, and\nthen steered for St. _Thome_, but meeting with nothing in their Way, they\nsailed for _Annabona_, and there water'd, took in Provisions, and put it to\na Vote of the Company, whether their next Voyage should be, to the\n_East-Indies_, or to _Brasil_; the latter being resolved on, they sailed\naccordingly, and in 28 Days arrived at _Ferdinando_, an uninhabited Island,\non that Coast: Here they water'd, boot-top'd their Ship, and made ready for\nthe designed Cruise.\nNow that we are upon this Coast, I think it will be the proper Place to\npresent our Readers with a Description of this Country, and some ingenious\nRemarks of a Friend, how beneficial a Trade might be carried on here by our\n_West-India_ Merchants, at a little Hazard.\nA DESCRIPTION OF _BRASIL_, &c.\nB_RASIL_ (a Name signifying the holy Cross) was discovered for the\nKing of _Portugal_, by _Alvarez Cabral, Ann. Dom._ 1501. extending almost\nfrom the _\u00c6quinoctial_ to 28\u00b0 South. The Air is temperate and cool, in\ncomparison of the _West-Indies_, from stronger Breezes and an opener\nCountry, which gives less Interruption to the Winds.\nThe northernmost Part of it stretching about 180 Leagues, (a fine fertile\nCountry,) was taken from the _Portuguese_ by the _Dutch West-India_\nCompany, _Anno._ 1637 or thereabouts; but the Conquerors, as is natural\nwhere there is little or no Religion subsisting, made such heavy Exactions\non the _Portuguese_, and extended such Cruelty to the Natives, that\nprepared them both easily to unite for a Revolt, facilitated by the _Dutch_\nMismanagement: For the States being at this Time very intent on their\n_India_ Settlements, not only recalled Count _Morrice_ their Governor, but\nneglected Supplies to their Garrisons; however, tho' the others were\ncountenanced with a Fleet from _Portugal_, and had the Affection of the\nNatives, yet they found Means to withstand and struggle with this superior\nPower, from 1643 to 1660, and then was wholly abandoned by them, on\nArticles dishonourable to the _Portuguese_, viz.\nThat the _Dutch_, on Relinquishing, should keep all the Places they had\nconquered in _India_ from _Portugal_. That they should pay the States\n800000 _l._ and permit them still the Liberty of Trade to _Africa_ and\n_Brasil_, on the same Custom and Duties with the King of _Portugal_'s\nSubjects. But since that Time, new Stipulations and Treaties have been\nmade; wherein the _Dutch_, who have been totally excluded the _Brasil_\nTrade, have, in lieu thereof, a Composition of 10 _per Cent_. for the\nLiberty of trading to _Africa_; and this is always left by every\n_Portuguese_ Ship (before she begins her Slaving) with the _Dutch_ General\nof the _Gold-Coast_, at _Des Minas_.\nThere are only three principal Towns of Trade on the _Brasil_ Coast, St.\n_Salvadore_, St. _Sebastian_, and _Pernambuca_.\nSt. _Salvadore_ in the _Bahia los todos Santos_, is an Archbishoprick and\nSeat of the Viceroy, the chief Port of Trade for Importation, where most of\nthe Gold from the Mines is lodged, and whence the Fleets for _Europe_\ngenerally depart. The Seas about it abound with Whale-Fish, which in the\nSeason they catch in great Numbers; the Flesh is salted up generally to be\nthe Victualling of their Slave-Ships, and the Train reserved for\nExportation, at 30 and 35 Millrays a Pipe.\n_Rio Janeiro (_the Town St. _Sebastian)_ is the Southernmost of the\n_Portuguese_, the worst provided of Necessaries, but commodious for a\nSettlement, because nigh the Mine, and convenient to supervise the Slaves,\nwho, as I have been told, do usually allow their Master a Dollar _per\nDiem_, and have the Overplus of their Work (if any) to themselves.\nThe Gold from hence is esteemed the best, (for being of a copperish\nColour,) and they have a Mint to run it into Coin, both here and at\n_Bahia_; the Moidors of either having the initial Letters of each Place\nupon them.\n_Pernambuca_ (tho' mention'd last) is the second in Dignity, a large and\npopulous Town, and has its rise from the Ruins of _Olinda_, (or the\nhandsome,) a City of a far pleasanter Situation, six Miles up the River,\nbut not so commodious for Traffick and Commerce. Just above the Town the\nRiver divides it self into two Branches, not running directly into the Sea,\nbut to the Southward; and in the Nook of the Island made by that Division,\nstands the Governor's House, a square plain Building of Prince _Maurice_'s,\nwith two Towers, on which are only this Date inscribed, _Anno_ 1641. The\nAvenues to it are every way pleasant, thro' Visto's of tall Coco-Nut Trees.\nOver each Branch of the River is a Bridge; that leading to the Country is\nall of Timber, but the other to the Town (of twenty six or twenty eight\nArches) is half of Stone, made by the _Dutch_, who in their Time had little\nShops and gaming Houses on each Side for Recreation.\nThe Pavements also of the Town are in some Places of broad Tiles, the\nremaining Fragments of their Conquest. The Town has the outer Branch of the\nRiver behind it, and the Harbour before it, jetting into which latter are\nclose Keys for the weighing and receiving of Customage on Merchandize, and\nfor the meeting and conferring of Merchants and Traders. The Houses are\nstrong built, but homely, letticed like those of _Lisbon_, for the\nAdmission of Air, without Closets, and what is worse, Hearths; which makes\ntheir Cookery consist all in frying and stewing upon Stoves; and that they\ndo till the Flesh become tender enough to shake it to Pieces, and one Knife\nis then thought sufficient to serve a Table of half a Score.\nThe greatest Inconvenience of _Pernambuca_ is, that there is not one\nPublick-House in it; so that Strangers are obliged to hire any ordinary one\nthey can get, at a Guinea a Month: And others who come to transact Affairs\nof Importance, must come recommended, if it were only for the sake of\nPrivacy.\nThe Market is stocked well enough, Beef being at five Farthings _per l_. a\nSheep or Goat at nine Shillings, a Turkey four Shillings, and Fowls two\nShillings, the largest I ever saw, and may be procured much Cheaper, by\nhiring a Man to fetch them out of the Country. The dearest in its kind is\nWater, which being fetch'd in Vessels from _Olinda_, will not be put on\nBoard in the Road under two Crusado's a Pipe.\nThe _Portuguese_ here are darker than those of _Europe_, not only from a\nwarmer Climate, but their many Intermarriages with the Negroes, who are\nnumerous there, and some of them of good Credit and Circumstances. The\nWomen (not unlike the Mulatto Generation every where else) are fond of\nStrangers; not only the Courtezans, whose Interest may be supposed to wind\nup their Affections, but also the marryed Women who think themselves\nobliged, when you favour them with the Secrecy of an Appointment; but the\nUnhappiness of pursuing Amours, is, that the generallity of both Sexes are\ntouched with veneral Taints, without so much as one Surgeon among them, or\nany Body skilled in Physick, to cure or palliate the progressive Mischief:\nThe only Person pretending that Way, is an _Irish_ Father, whose Knowledge\nis all comprehended in the Virtues of two or three Simples, and those, with\nthe Salubrity of the Air and Temperance, is what they depend on, for\nsubduing the worst of Malignity; and it may not be unworthy Notice, that\ntho' few are exempted from the Misfortune of a Running, Eruptions, or the\nlike, yet I could hear of none precipitated into those deplorable\nCircumstances we see common in unskillful mercurial Processes.\nThere are three Monasteries, and about six Churches, none of them Rich or\nMagnificent, unless one dedicated to St. _Antonio_, the Patron of their\nKingdom, which shines all over with exquisite Pieces of Paint and Gold.\nThe Export of _Brasil_ (besides Gold) is chiefly Sugars and Tobacco; the\nlatter are sent off in Rowls of a Quintal Weight, kept continually\nmoistened with Mulossus, which, with the Soil it springs from, imparts a\nstrong and peculiar Scent, more sensible in the Snuff made from it, which\ntho' under Prohibition of importing to _Lisbon_, sells here at 2 _s. per\nl_. as the Tobacco does at about 6 Millraies a Rowl. The finest of their\nSugars sells at 8 _s. per_ Roove, and a small ill tasted Rum drawn from the\nDregs and Mulossus, at two Testunes a Gallon.\nBesides these, they send off great Quantities of Brasil Wood, and Whale\nOyl, some Gums and Parrots, the latter are different from the _African_ in\nColour and Bigness, for as they are blue and larger, these are green and\nsmaller; and the Females of them ever retain the wild Note, and cannot be\nbrought to talk.\nIn lieu of this Produce, the _Portugueze_, once every Year by their Fleet\nfrom _Lisbon_, import all manner of European Commodities; and whoever is\nunable or negligent of supplying himself at that Season, buys at a very\nadvanced Rate, before the Return of another.\nTo transport Passengers, Slaves, or Merchandize from one Settlement to\nanother, or in Fishing; they make use of Bark-Logs, by the _Brasilians_\ncalled _Jingadahs_: They are made of four Pieces of Timber (the two\noutermost longest) pinned and fastened together, and sharpened at the Ends:\nTowards each Extremity a Stool is fixed to sit on for paddling, or holding\nby, when the Agitation is more than ordinary; with these odd sort of\nEngines, continually washed over by the Water, do these People, with a\nlittle triangular Sail spreeted about the Middle of it, venture out of\nSight of Land, and along the Coasts for many Leagues, in any sort of\nWeather; and if they overset with a Squall (which is not uncommon) they\nswim and presently turn it up right again.\nThe Natives are of the darkest Copper Colour, with thin Hair, of a square\nstrong make, and muscular; but not so well looking as the Wooley\nGeneration: They acquiesce patiently to the _Portugueze_ Government, who\nuse them much more humanly and Christian-like than the _Dutch_ did, and by\nthat Means have extended Quietness and Peace, as well as their Possessions,\nthree or four hundred Miles into the Country. A Country abounding with fine\nPastures and numerous Herds of Cattle, and yields a vast Increase from\nevery thing that is sown: Hence they bring down to us Parrots, small\nMonkies, Armadillos and Sanguins, and I have been assured, they have, (far\nIn-land,) a Serpent of a vast Magnitude, called _Siboya_, able, they say,\nto swallow a whole Sheep; I have seen my self here the Skin of another\nSpecie full six Yards long, and therefore think the Story not improbable.\nThe Harbour of _Pernambuca_ is, perhaps, singular, it is made of a Ledge of\nRocks, half a Cables length from the Main, and but little above the Surface\nof the Water, running at that equal Distance and Heighth several Leagues,\ntowards Cape _Augustine_, a Harbour running between them capable of\nreceiving Ships of the greatest Burthen: The Northermost End of this Wall\nof Rock, is higher than any Part of the contiguous Line, on which a little\nFort is built, commanding the Passage either of Boat or Ship, as they come\nover the Bar into the Harbour: On the Starboard Side, (_i. e._ the Main)\nafter you have entered a little way, stands another Fort (a _Pentagon_)\nthat would prove of small Account, I imagine, against a few disciplined\nMen; and yet in these consists all their Strength and Security, either for\nthe Harbour or Town: They have begun indeed a Wall, since their removing\nfrom _Olinda_, designed to surround the latter; but the slow Progress they\nmake in raising it, leaves Room to suspect 'twill be a long time in\nfinishing.\nThe Road without, is used by the _Portugueze_, when they are nigh sailing\nfor _Europe_, and wait for the Convoy, or are bound to _Bahia_ to them, and\nby Strangers only when Necessity compels; the best of it is in ten Fathom\nWater, near three Miles W. N. W. from the Town; nigher in, is foul with the\nmany Anchors lost there by the _Portugueze_ Ships; and farther out (in 14\nFathom) corally and Rocky. _July_ is the worst and Winter Season of this\nCoast, the Trade Winds being then very strong and dead, bringing in a\nprodigious and unsafe Swell into the Road, intermixed every Day with\nSqualls, Rain, and a hazey Horizon, but at other times serener Skies and\nSunshine.\nIn these Southern Latitudes is a Constellation, which from some Resemblance\nit bears to a _Jerusalem_ Cross, has the Name of _Crosiers_, the brightest\nof this Hemisphere, and are observed by, as the North Star is in Northern\nLatitudes; but what I mention this for, is, to introduce the admirable\nPh\u00e6nomenon in these Seas of the Megellanick Clouds, whose Risings and\nSittings are so regular, that I have been assured, the same Nocturnal\nObservations are made by them as by the Stars; They are two Clouds, small\nand whitish, no larger in Appearance than a Man's Hat, and are seen here in\n_July_ in the Latitude of 8\u00b0 S. about four of the Clock in the Morning; if\ntheir Appearance should be said to be the Reflection of Light, from some\nStellary Bodies above them, yet the Difficulty is not easily answered, how\nthese, beyond others, become so durable and regular in their Motions.\nFrom these casual Observations on the Country, the Towns, Coast, and Seas\nof _Brasil_, it would be an Omission to leave the Subject, without some\nEssay on an interloping Slave Trade here, which none of our Countrymen are\nadventurous enough to pursue, though it very probably, under a prudent\nManager, would be attended with Safety and very great Profit; and I admire\nthe more it is not struck at, because Ships from the Southern Coast of\n_Africa_, don't lengthen the Voyage to the _West-Indies_ a great deal, by\ntaking a Part of _Brasil_ in their Way.\nThe Disadvantages the _Portugueze_ are under for purchasing Slaves, are\nthese, that they have very few proper Commodities for _Guiney_, and the\nGold, which was their chiefest, by an Edict in _July_ 1722, stands now\nprohibited from being carried thither, so that the Ships employed therein\nare few, and insufficient for the great Mortality and Call of their Mines;\nbesides, should they venture at breaking so destructive a Law, as the\nabovementioned (as no doubt they do, or they could make little or no\nPurchace) yet Gold does not raise its Value like Merchandize in travelling\n(especially to _Africa_) and when the Composition with the _Dutch_ is also\npaid, they may be said to buy their Negroes at almost double the Price the\n_English, Dutch_, or _French_ do, which necessarily raises their Value\nextravagantly at _Brasil_; (those who can purchase one, buying a certainer\nAnnuity than _South-Sea_ Stock.)\nThus far of the Call for Slaves at _Brasil_; I shall now consider and\nobviate some Difficulties objected against any Foreigners (suppose\n_English_) interposing in such a Trade, and they are some on theirs, and\nsome on our Side.\nOn their Side it is prohibited under Pain of Death, a Law less effectual to\nthe Prevention of it than pecuniary Mulcts would be, because a Penalty so\ninadequate and disproportioned, is only _In terrorem_, and makes it\nmerciful in the Governor, or his Instruments, to take a Composition of\neight or ten Moidors, when any Subject is catched, and is the common Custom\nso to do as often as they are found out.\nOn our Side it is Confiscation of what they can get, which considering,\nthey have no Men of War to guard the Coast, need be very little, without\nsupine Neglect and Carelessness.\nI am a Man of War, or Privateer, and being in Want of Provisions, or in\nSearch of Pyrates, put in to _Pernambuca_ for Intelligence, to enable me\nfor the Pursuit: The Dread of Pyrates keeps every one off, till you have\nfirst sent an Officer, with the proper Compliments to the Governor, who\nimmediately gives Leave for your buying every Necessary you are in want of,\nprovided it be with Money, and not an Exchange of Merchandize, which is\nagainst the Laws of the Country.\nOn this first time of going on Shore, depends the success of the whole\nAffair, and requires a cautious and discreet Management in the Person\nentrusted: He will be immediately surrounded at landing with the great and\nthe small Rabble, to enquire who? and whence he comes? and whether bound?\n_&c._ and the Men are taught to answer, from _Guiney_, denying any thing of\na Slave on Board, which are under Hatches, and make no Shew; nor need they,\nfor those who have Money to lay out will conclude on that themselves.\nBy that time the Compliment is paid to the Governor, the News has spread\nall round the Town, and some Merchant addresses you, as a Stranger, to the\nCivility of his House, but privately desires to know what Negroes he can\nhave, and what Price. A Governor may possibly use an Instrument in sifting\nthis, but the Appearance of the Gentleman, and the Circumstance of being so\nsoon engaged after leaving the other, will go a great way in forming a\nMan's Judgment, and leaves him no room for the Suspicion of such a Snare;\nhowever, to have a due Guard, Intimations will suffice, and bring him, and\nFriends enough to carry off the best Part of a Cargo in two Nights time,\nfrom 20 to 30 Moidors a Boy, and from 30 to 40 a Man Slave. The Hazard is\nless at _Rio Janeiro_.\nThere has been another Method attempted, of settling a Correspondence with\nsome _Portugueze_ Merchant or two, who, as they may be certain within a\nFortnight of any Vessels arriving on their Coast with Slaves, might settle\nSignals for the debarquing them at an unfrequented Part of the Coast, but\nwhether any Exceptions were made to the Price, or that the _Portuguese_\ndread Discovery, and the severest Prosecution on so notorious a Breach of\nthe Law, I cannot tell but it has hither to proved abortive.\nHowever, Stratagems laudable, and attended with Profit, at no other Hazard\n(as I can perceive) then loss of Time, are worth attempting; it is what is\nevery Day practised with the _Spaniards_ from _Jamaica_.\nUpon this Coast our Rovers cruiz'd for about nine Weeks, keeping generally\nout of Sight of Land, but without seeing a Sail, which discourag'd them so,\nthat they determined to leave the Station, and steer for the _West-Indies_,\nand in order thereto, stood in to make the Land for the taking of their\nDeparture, and thereby they fell in, unexpectedly, with a Fleet of 42 Sail\nof _Portuguese_ Ships, off the Bay of _los todos Santos_, with all their\nLading in for _Lisbon_, several of them of good Force, who lay too waiting\nfor two Men of War of 70 Guns each, their Convoy. However, _Roberts_\nthought it should go hard with him, but he would make up his Market among\nthem, and thereupon mix'd with the Fleet, and kept his Men hid till proper\nResolutions could be form'd; that done, they came close up to one of the\ndeepest, and ordered her to send the Master on Board quietly, threat'ning\nto give them no Quarters, if any Resistance, or Signal of Distress was\nmade. The _Portuguese_ being surprized at these Threats, and the sudden\nflourish of Cutlashes from the Pyrates, submitted without a Word, and the\nCaptain came on Board; _Roberts_ saluted him after a friendly manner,\ntelling him, that they were Gentlemen of Fortune, but that their Business\nwith him, was only to be informed which was the richest Ship in that Fleet;\nand if he directed them right, he should be restored to his Ship without\nMolestation, otherwise, he must expect immediate Death.\nWhereupon this _Portuguese_ Master pointed to one of 40 Guns, and 150 Men,\na Ship of greater Force than the _Rover_, but this no Ways dismayed them,\n_they were_ Portuguese, they said, and so immediately steered away for him.\nWhen they came within Hail, the Master whom they had Prisoner, was ordered\nto ask, _how Seignior Capitain did_? And to invite him on Board, _for that\nhe had a Matter of Consequence to impart to him_, which being done, he\nreturned for Answer, _That he would wait upon him presently_: But by the\nBustle that immediately followed, the Pyrates perceived, they were\ndiscovered, and that this was only a deceitful Answer to gain Time to put\ntheir Ship in a Posture of Defence; so without further Delay, they poured\nin a Broad-Side, boarded and grapled her; the Dispute was short and warm,\nwherein many of the _Portuguese_ fell, and two only of the Pyrates. By this\nTime the Fleet was alarmed, Signals of Top-gallant Sheets flying, and Guns\nfired, to give Notice to the Men of War, who rid still at an Anchor, and\nmade but scurvy hast out to their Assistance; and if what the Pyrates\nthemselves related, be true, the Commanders of those Ships were blameable\nto the highest Degree, and unworthy the Title, or so much as the Name of\nMen: For _Roberts_ finding the Prize to sail heavy, and yet resolving not\nto loose her, lay by for the headmost of them _(_which much out sailed the\nother) and prepared for Battle, which was ignominiously declined, tho' of\nsuch superior Force; for not daring to venture on the Pyrate alone, he\ntarried so long for his Consort as gave them both time leisurely to make\noff.\nThey found this Ship exceeding rich, being laden chiefly with Sugar, Skins,\nand Tobacco, and in Gold 40000 Moidors, besides Chains and Trinckets, of\nconsiderable Value; particularly a Cross set with Diamonds, designed for\nthe King of _Portugal_; which they afterwards presented to the Governor of\n_Caiana_, by whom they were obliged.\nElated with this Booty, they had nothing now to think of but some safe\nRetreat, where they might give themselves up to all the Pleasures that\nLuxury and Wantonness could bestow, and for the present pitch'd upon a\nPlace called the _Devil_'s _Islands_, in the River of _Surinam_, on the\nCoast of _Caiana_, where they arrived, and found the civilest Reception\nimaginable, not only from the Governor and Factory, but their Wives, who\nexchanged Wares and drove a considerable Trade with them.\nThey seiz'd in this River a Sloop, and by her gained Intelligence, that a\nBrigantine had also sailed in Company with her, from _Rhode-Island_, laden\nwith Provisions for the Coast. A Welcome Cargo! They growing short in the\nSea Store, and as _Sancho_ says, _No Adventures to be made without\nBelly-Timber_. One Evening as they were rumaging (their Mine of Treasure)\nthe _Portuguese_ Prize, this expected Vessel was descry'd at Mast-Head, and\n_Roberts_, imagining no Body could do the Business so well as himself,\ntakes 40 Men in the Sloop, and goes in pursuit of her; but a fatal Accident\nfollowed this rash, tho' inconsiderable Adventure, for _Roberts_ thinking\nof nothing less than bringing in the Brigantine that Afternoon, never\ntroubled his Head about the Sloop's Provision, nor inquired what there was\non Board to subsist such a Number of Men; but out he sails after his\nexpected Prize, which he not only lost further Sight of, but after eight\nDays contending with contrary Winds and Currents, found themselves thirty\nLeagues to Leeward. The Current still opposing their Endeavours, and\nperceiving no Hopes of beating up to their Ship, they came to an Anchor,\nand inconsiderately sent away the Boat to give the rest of the Company\nNotice of their Condition, and to order the Ship to them; but too soon,\neven the next Day, their Wants made them sensible of their Infatuation, for\ntheir Water was all expended, and they had taken no thought how they should\nbe supply'd, till either the Ship came, or the Boat returned, which was not\nlikely to be under five or six Days. Here like _Tantalus_, they almost\nfamished in Sight of the fresh Streams and Lakes; being drove to such\nExtremity at last, that they were forc'd to tare up the Floor of the Cabin,\nand patch up a sort of Tub or Tray with Rope Yarns, to paddle ashore, and\nfetch off immediate Supplies of Water to preserve Life.\nAfter some Days, the long-wish'd-for Boat came back, but with the most\nunwellcome News in the World, for _Kennedy_, who was Lieutenant, and left\nin Absence of _Roberts_, to Command the Privateer and Prize, was gone off\nwith both. This was Mortification with a Vengeance, and you may imagine,\nthey did not depart without some hard Speeches from those that were left,\nand had suffered by their Treachery: And that there need be no further\nmention of this _Kennedy_, I shall leave Captain _Roberts_, for a Page or\ntwo, with the Remains of his Crew, to vent their Wrath in a few Oaths and\nExecrations, and follow the other, whom we may reckon from that Time, as\nsteering his Course towards _Execution Dock_.\n_Kennedy_ was now chosen Captain of the revolted Crew, but could not bring\nhis Company to any determined Resolution; some of them were for pursuing\nthe old Game, but the greater Part of them seem'd to have Inclinations to\nturn from those evil Courses, and get home privately, (for there was no Act\nof Pardon in Force,) therefore they agreed to break up, and every Man to\nshift for himself, as he should see Occasion. The first Thing they did, was\nto part with the great _Portugueze_ Prize, and having the Master of the\nSloop (whose Name I think was _Cane_) aboard, who they said was a very\nhonest Fellow, (for he had humoured them upon every Occasion,) told them of\nthe Brigantine that _Roberts_ went after; and when the Pyrates first took\nhim, he complemented them at an odd Rate, telling them they were welcome to\nhis Sloop and Cargo, and wish'd that the Vessel had been larger, and the\nLoading richer for their Sakes: To this good natured Man they gave the\n_Portugueze_ Ship, (which was then above half loaded,) three or four\nNegroes, and all his own Men, who returned Thanks to his kind Benefactors,\nand departed.\nCaptain _Kennedy_ in the _Rover_, sailed to _Barbadoes_, near which Island,\nthey took a very peaceable Ship belonging to _Virginia_; the Commander was\na Quaker, whose Name was _Knot_; he had neither Pistol, Sword, nor Cutlash\non Board; and Mr. _Knot_ appearing so very passive to all they said to him,\nsome of them thought this a good Opportunity to go off; and accordingly\neight of the Pyrates went aboard, and he carried them safe to _Virginia_;\nThey made the Quaker a Present of 10 Chests of Sugar, 10 Rolls of _Brasil_\nTobacco, 30 Moidors, and some Gold-Dust, in all to the value of about 250\n_l._ They also made Presents to the Sailors, some more, some less, and\nlived a jovial Life all the while they were upon their Voyage, Captain\n_Knot_ giving them their Way; nor indeed could he help himself, unless he\nhad taken an Opportunity to surprize them, when they were either drunk or\nasleep; for awake they wore Arms aboard the Ship, and put him in a\ncontinual Terror; it not being his Principle (or the Sect's) to fight,\nunless with Art and Collusion; he managed these Weapons well till he\narrived at the Capes, and afterwards four of the Pyrates went off in a\nBoat, which they had taken with them, for the more easily making their\nEscapes, and made up the Bay towards _Maryland_, but were forced back by a\nStorm into an obscure Place of the Country, where meeting with good\nEntertainment among the Planters, they continued several Days without being\ndiscovered to be Pyrates. In the mean Time Captain _Knot_ leaving four\nothers on Board his Ship, (who intended to go to _North-Carolina_,) made\nwhat hast he could to discover to Mr. _Spotswood_ the Governor, what sort\nof Passengers he had been forced to bring with him, who by good Fortune got\nthem seized; and Search being made after the others, who were revelling\nabout the Country, they were also taken, and all try'd, convicted and\nhang'd, two _Portuguese_ Jews who were taken on the Coast of _Brasil_, and\nwhom they brought with them to _Virginia_, being the principal Evidences.\nThe latter had found Means to lodge Part of their Wealth with the Planters,\nwho never brought it to Account: But Captain _Knot_ surrendered up every\nThing that belonged to them, that were taken aboard, even what they\npresented to him, in lieu of such Things as they had plundered him of in\ntheir Passage, and obliged his Men to do the like.\nSome Days after the taking of the _Virginia_ Man last mentioned, in\ncruising in the Latitude of _Jamaica, Kennedy_ took a Sloop bound thither\nfrom _Boston_, loaded with Bread and Flower; aboard of this Sloop went all\nthe Hands who were for breaking the Gang, and left those behind that had a\nMind to pursue further Adventures. Among the former were _Kennedy_, their\nCaptain, of whose Honour they had such a dispicable Notion, that they were\nabout to throw him over-board, when they found him in the Sloop, as fearing\nhe might betray them all, at their return to _England_; he having in his\nChildhood been bred a Pick-pocket, and before he became a Pyrate, a\nHouse-breaker; both Professions that these Gentlemen have a very mean\nOpinion of. However, Captain _Kennedy_, by taking solemn Oaths of Fidelity\nto his Companions, was suffered to proceed with them.\nIn this Company there was but one that pretended to any skill in\nNavigation, (for _Kennedy_ could neither write nor read, he being preferred\nto the Command merely for his Courage, which indeed he had often\nsignaliz'd, particularly in taking the _Portuguese_ Ship,) and he proved to\nbe a Pretender only; for shaping their Course to _Ireland_, where they\nagreed to land, they ran away to the North-West Coast of _Scotland_, and\nthere were tost about by hard Storms of Wind for several Days, without\nknowing where they were, and in great Danger of perishing: At length they\npushed the Vessel into a little Creek, and went all ashore, leaving the\nSloop at an Anchor for the next Comers.\nThe whole Company refresh'd themselves at a little Village about five Miles\nfrom the Place where they left the Sloop, and passed there for Ship-wreck'd\nSailors, and no doubt might have travelled on without Suspicion; but the\nmad and riotous Manner of their Living on the Road, occasion'd their\nJourney to be cut short, as we shall observe presently.\n_Kennedy_ and another left them here, and travelling to one of the\nSea-Ports, ship'd themselves for _Ireland_, and arrived there in Safety.\nSix or seven wisely withdrew from the rest, travelled at their leasure, and\ngot to their much desired Port of _London_, without being disturbed or\nsuspected; but the main Gang alarm'd the Country where-ever they came,\ndrinking and roaring at such a Rate, that the People shut themselves up in\ntheir Houses, in some Places, not daring to venture out among so many mad\nFellows: In other Villages, they treated the whole Town, squandering their\nMoney away, as if, like _\u00c6sop_, they wanted to lighten their Burthens: This\nexpensive manner of Living procured two of their drunken Straglers to be\nknocked on the Head, they being found murdered in the Road, and their Money\ntaken from them: All the rest, to the Number of seventeen as they drew nigh\nto _Edinburgh_, were arrested and thrown into Goal, upon Suspicion, of they\nknew not what; However, the Magistrates were not long at a Loss for proper\nAccusations, for two of the Gang offering themselves for Evidences were\naccepted of; and the others were brought to a speedy Tryal, whereof nine\nwere convicted and executed.\n_Kennedy_ having spent all his Money, came over from _Ireland_, and kept a\ncommon B--y-House on _Deptford_ Road, and now and then, 'twas thought, made\nan Excursion abroad in the Way of his former Profession, till one of his\nHoushold W--s gave Information against him for a Robbery, for which he was\ncommitted to _Bridewell_; but because she would not do the Business by\nhalves, she found out a Mate of a Ship that _Kennedy_ had committed Pyracy\nupon, as he foolishly confess'd to her. This Mate, whose Name was _Grant_,\npaid _Kennedy_ a Visit in _Bridewell_, and knowing him to be the Man,\nprocured a Warrant, and had him committed to the _Marshalsea_ Prison.\nThe Game that _Kennedy_ had now to play was to turn Evidence himself;\naccordingly he gave a List of eight or ten of his Comrades; but not being\nacquainted with their Habitations, one only was taken, who, tho' condemn'd,\nappeared to be a Man of a fair Character, was forc'd into their Service,\nand took the first Opportunity to get from them, and therefore receiv'd a\nPardon; but _Walter Kennedy_ being a notorious Offender, was executed the\n19th of _July_, 1721, at _Execution Dock_.\nThe rest of the Pyrates who were left in the Ship _Rover_, staid not long\nbehind, for they went ashore to one of the _West-India_ Islands; what\nbecame of them afterwards, I can't tell, but the Ship was found at Sea by a\nSloop belonging to St. _Christophers_, and carried into that Island with\nonly nine Negroes aboard.\nThus we see what a disastrous Fate ever attends the Wicked, and how rarely\nthey escape the Punishment due to their Crimes, who, abandon'd to such a\nprofligate Life, rob, spoil, and prey upon Mankind, contrary to the Light\nand Law of Nature, as well as the Law of God. It might have been hoped,\nthat the Examples of these Deaths, would have been as Marks to the\nRemainder of this Gang, how to shun the Rocks their Companions had split\non; that they would have surrendered to Mercy, or divided themselves, for\never from such Pursuits, as in the End they might be sure would subject\nthem to the same Law and Punishment, which they must be conscious they now\nequally deserved; _impending Law_, which never let them sleep well, unless\nwhen drunk. But all the Use that was made of it here, was to commend the\nJustice of the Court, that condemn'd _Kennedy, for he was a sad Dog_ (they\nsaid) _and deserved the Fate he met with_.\nBut to go back to _Roberts_, whom we left on the Coast of _Caiana_, in a\ngrievous Passion at what _Kennedy_ and the Crew had done; and who was now\nprojecting new Adventures with his small Company in the Sloop; but finding\nhitherto they had been but as a Rope of Sand, they formed a Set of\nArticles, to be signed and sworn to, for the better Conservation of their\nSociety, and doing Justice to one another; excluding all _Irish_ Men from\nthe Benefit of it, to whom they had an implacable Aversion upon the Account\nof _Kennedy_. How indeed _Roberts_ could think that an Oath would be\nobligatory, where Defiance had been given to the Laws of God and Man, I\ncan't tell, but he thought their greatest Security lay in this, _That it\nwas every one's Interest to observe them if they were minded to keep up so\nabominable a Combination_.\nThe following, is the Substance of the Articles, as taken from the\nPyrates own Informations.\nI.\nE_Very Man has a Vote in Affairs of Moment; has equal Title to the\nfresh Provisions, or strong Liquors, at any Time seized, and use them at\npleasure, unless a Scarcity_ (no uncommon Thing among them) _make it\nnecessary, for the good of all, to vote a Retrenchment_.\nII.\n_Every Man to be called fairly in turn, by List, on Board of Prizes,\nbecause, (over and above their proper Share_,) _they were on these\nOccasions allowed a Shift of Cloaths: But if they defrauded the Company to\nthe Value of a Dollar, in Plate, Jewels, or Money_, MAROONING _was their\nPunishment_. This was a Barbarous Custom of putting the Offender on Shore,\non some desolate or uninhabited Cape or Island, with a Gun, a few Shot, a\nBottle of Water, and a Bottle of Powder, to subsist with, or starve. _If\nthe Robbery was only between one another, they contented themselves with\nslitting the Ears and Nose of him that was Guilty, and set him on Shore,\nnot in an uninhabited Place, but somewhere, where he was sure to encounter\nHardships_.\nIII.\n_No Person to Game at Cards or Dice for Money_.\nIV.\n_The Lights and Candles to be put out at eight o'Clock at Night: If any of\nthe Crew, after that Hour, still remained inclined for Drinking, they were\nto do it on the open Deck_; which _Roberts_ believed would give a Check to\ntheir Debauches, for he was a sober Man himself, but found at length, that\nall his Endeavours to put an End to this Debauch, proved ineffectual.\nV.\n_To keep their Piece, Pistols, and Cutlash clean, and fit for Service_: In\nthis they were extravagantly nice, endeavouring to outdo one another, in\nthe Beauty and Richness of their Arms, giving sometimes at an Auction (at\nthe Mast,) 30 or 40 _l._ a Pair, for Pistols. These were slung in Time of\nService, with different coloured Ribbands, over their Shoulders, in a Way\npeculiar to these Fellows, in which they took great Delight.\nVI.\n_No Boy or Woman to be allowed amongst them. If any Man were sound seducing\nanny of the latter Sex, and carried her to Sea, disguised, he was to suffer\nDeath_; so that when any fell into their Hands, as it chanced in the\n_Onslow_, they put a Centinel immediately over her to prevent ill\nConsequences from so dangerous an Instrument of Division and Quarrel; but\nthen here lies the Roguery; they contend who shall be Centinel, which\nhappens generally to one of the greatest Bullies, who, to secure the Lady's\nVirtue, will let none lye with her but himself.\nVII.\n_To Desert the Ship, or their Quarters in Battle, was punished with Death,\nor Marooning._\nVIII.\n_No striking one another on Board, but every Man's Quarrels to be ended on\nShore, at Sword and Pistol, Thus_; The Quarter-Master of the Ship, when the\nParties will not come to any Reconciliation, accompanies them on Shore with\nwhat Assistance he thinks proper, and turns the Disputants Back to Back, at\nso many Paces Distance: At the Word of Command, they turn and fire\nimmediately, (or else the Piece is knocked out of their Hands:) If both\nmiss, they come to their Cutlashes, and then he is declared Victor who\ndraws the first Blood.\nIX.\n_No Man to talk of breaking up their Way of Living, till each had shared a_\n1000 _l. If in order to this, any Man should lose a Limb, or become a\nCripple in their Service, he was to have_ 800 _Dollars, out of the publick\nStock, and for lesser Hurts, proportionably._\nX.\n_The Captain and Quarter-Master to receive two Shares of a Prize; the\nMaster, Boatswain, and Gunner, one Share and a half, and other Officers,\none and a Quarter._\nXI.\n_The Musicians to have Rest on the Sabbath Day, but the other six Days and\nNights, none without special Favour._\nThese, we are assured, were some of _Roberts_'s Articles, but as they had\ntaken Care to throw over-board the Original they had sign'd and sworn to,\nthere is a great deal of Room to suspect, the remainder contained something\ntoo horrid to be disclosed to any, except such as were willing to be\nSharers in the Iniquity of them; let them be what they will, they were\ntogether the Test of all new Comers, who were initiated by an Oath taken on\na Bible, reserv'd for that Purpose only, and were subscrib'd to in Presence\nof the worshipful Mr. _Roberts._ And in Case any Doubt should arise\nconcerning the Construction of these Laws, and it should remain a Dispute\nwhether the Party had infring'd them or no, a Jury is appointed to explain\nthem, and bring in a Verdict upon the Case in Doubt.\nSince we are now speaking of the Laws of this Company, I shall go on, and,\nin as brief a Manner as I can, relate the principal Customs, and\nGovernment, of this roguish Common-Wealth; which are pretty near the same\nwith all Pyrates.\nFor the Punishment of small Offences, which are not provided for by the\nArticles, and which are not of Consequence enough to be left to a Jury,\nthere is a principal Officer among the Pyrates, called the Quarter-Master,\nof the Mens own chusing, who claims all Authority this Way, (excepting in\nTime of Battle:) If they disobey his Command, are quarrelsome and mutinous\nwith one another, misuse Prisoners, plunder beyond his Order, and in\nparticular, if they be negligent of their Arms, which he musters at\nDiscretion, he punishes at his own Arbitrement, with drubbing or whipping,\nwhich no one else dare do without incurring the Lash from all the Ships\nCompany: In short, this Officer is Trustee for the whole, is the first on\nBoard any Prize, separating for the Company's Use, what he pleases, and\nreturning what he thinks fit to the Owners, excepting Gold and Silver,\nwhich they have voted not returnable.\nAfter a Description of the Quarter-Master, and his Duty, who acts as a sort\nof a civil Magistrate on Board a Pyrate Ship; I shall consider their\nmilitary Officer, the Captain; what Privileges he exerts in such anarchy\nand unrulyness of the Members: Why truly very little, they only permit him\nto be Captain, on Condition, that they may be Captain over him; they\nseparate to his Use the great Cabin, and sometimes vote him small Parcels\nof Plate and China, (for it may be noted that _Roberts_ drank his Tea\nconstantly) but then every Man, as the Humour takes him, will use the Plate\nand China, intrude into his Apartment, swear at him, seize a Part of his\nVictuals and Drink, if they like it, without his offering to find Fault or\ncontest it: Yet _Roberts_, by a better Management than usual, became the\nchief Director in every Thing of Moment, and it happened thus:--The Rank of\nCaptain being obtained by the Suffrage of the Majority, it falls on one\nsuperior for Knowledge and Boldness, _Pistol Proof_ (as they call it,) and\ncan make those fear, who do not love him; _Roberts_ is said to have\nexceeded his Fellows in these Respects, and when advanced, enlarged the\nRespect that followed it, by making a sort of Privy-Council of half a Dozen\nof the greatest Bullies; such as were his Competitors, and had Interest\nenough to make his Government easy; yet even those, in the latter Part of\nhis Reign, he had run counter to in every Project that opposed his own\nOpinion; for which, and because he grew reserved, and would not drink and\nroar at their Rate, a Cabal was formed to take away his Captainship, which\nDeath did more effectually.\nThe Captain's Power is uncontroulable in Chace, or in Battle, drubbing,\ncutting, or even shooting any one who dares deny his Command. The same\nPrivilege he takes over Prisoners, who receive good or ill Usage, mostly as\nhe approves of their Behaviour, for tho' the meanest would take upon them\nto misuse a Master of a Ship, yet he would controul herein, when he see it,\nand merrily over a Bottle, give his Prisoners this double Reason for it.\nFirst, That it preserved his Precedence; and secondly, That it took the\nPunishment out of the Hands of a much more rash and mad Sett of Fellows\nthan himself. When he found that Rigour was not expected from his People,\n(for he often practised it to appease them,) then he would give Strangers\nto understand, that it was pure Inclination that induced him to a good\nTreatment of them, and not any Love or Partiality to their Persons; for,\nsays he, _there is none of you but will hang me, I know, whenever you can\nclinch me within your Power._\nAnd now seeing the Disadvantages they were under for pursuing the Account,\n_viz._ a small Vessel ill repaired, and without Provisions, or Stores; they\nresolved one and all, with the little Supplies they could get, to proceed\nfor the _West-Indies_, not doubting to find a Remedy for all these Evils,\nand to retreive their Loss.\nIn the Latitude of _Deseada_, one of the Islands, they took two Sloops,\nwhich supply'd them with Provisions and other Necessaries; and a few Days\nafterwards, took a Brigantine belonging to _Rhode Island_, and then\nproceeded to _Barbadoes_, off of which Island, they fell in with a\n_Bristol_ Ship of 10 Guns, in her Voyage out, from whom they took abundance\nof Cloaths, some Money, twenty five Bales of Goods, five Barrels of Powder,\na Cable, Hawser, 10 Casks of Oatmeal, six Casks of Beef, and several other\nGoods, besides five of their Men; and after they had detained her three\nDays, let her go; who being bound for the abovesaid Island, she acquainted\nthe Governor with what had happened, as soon as she arrived.\nWhereupon a _Bristol_ Galley that lay in the Harbour, was ordered to be\nfitted out with all imaginable Expedition, of 20 Guns, and 80 Men, there\nbeing then no Man of War upon that Station, and also a Sloop with 10 Guns,\nand 40 Men: The Galley was commanded by one Captain _Rogers_, of _Bristol_,\nand the Sloop by Captain _Graves_, of that Island, and Captain _Rogers_ by\na Commission from the Governor, was appointed Commadore.\nThe second Day after _Rogers_ sailed out of the Harbour, he was discovered\nby _Roberts_, who knowing nothing of their Design, gave them Chase: The\n_Barbadoes_ Ships kept an easy sail till the Pyrates came up with them, and\nthen _Roberts_ gave them a Gun, expecting they would have immediately\nstruck to his pyratical Flag, but instead thereof, he was forced to receive\nthe Fire of a Broadside, with three Huzzas at the same Time; so that an\nEngagement ensued, but _Roberts_ being hardly put to it, was obliged to\ncrowd all the Sail the Sloop would bear, to get off: The Galley sailing\npretty well, kept Company for a long while, keeping a constant Fire, which\ngail'd the Pyrate; however, at length by throwing over their Guns, and\nother heavy Goods, and thereby light'ning the Vessel, they, with much ado,\ngot clear; but _Roberts_ could never endure a _Barbadoes_ Man afterwards,\nand when any Ships belonging to that Island fell in his Way, he was more\nparticularly severe to them than others.\nCaptain _Roberts_ sailed in the Sloop to the Island of _Dominico_, where he\nwatered, and got Provisions of the Inhabitants, to whom he gave Goods in\nExchange. At this Place he met with 13 _Englishmen_, who had been set\nashore by a _French Guard de la Coste_, belonging to _Martinico_, taken out\nof two _New-England_ Ships, that had been seiz'd, as Prize, by the said\n_French_ Sloop: The Men willingly entered with the Pyrates, and it proved a\nseasonable Recruit.\nThey staid not long here, tho' they had immediate Occasion for cleaning\ntheir Sloop, but did not think this a proper Place, and herein they judg'd\nright; for the touching at this Island, had like to have been their\nDestruction, because they having resolved to go away to the _Granada_\nIslands, for the aforesaid Purpose, by some Accident it came to be known to\nthe _French_ Colony, who sending Word to the Governor of _Martinico_, he\nequipped and manned two Sloops to go in Quest of them. The Pyrates sailed\ndirectly for the _Granadilloes_, and hall'd into a Lagoon, at _Corvocoo_,\nwhere they cleaned with unusual Dispatch, staying but a little above a\nWeek, by which Expedition they missed of the _Martinico_ Sloops, only a few\nHours; _Roberts_ sailing over Night, that the _French_ arrived the next\nMorning. This was a fortunate Escape, especially considering, that it was\nnot from any Fears of their being discovered, that they made so much hast\nfrom the Island; but, as they had the Impudence themselves to own, for the\nwant of Wine and Women.\nThus narrowly escaped, they sailed for _Newfoundland_, and arrived upon the\nBanks the latter end of _June_, 1720. They entered the Harbour of\n_Trepassi_, with their black Colours flying, Drums beating, and Trumpets\nsounding. There were two and twenty Vessels in the Harbour, which the Men\nall quitted upon the Sight of the Pyrate, and fled ashore. It is impossible\nparticularly to recount the Destruction and Havock they made here, burning\nand sinking all the shipping, except a _Bristol_ Galley, and destroying the\nFisheries, and Stages of the poor Planters, without Remorse or Compunction;\nfor nothing is so deplorable as Power in mean and ignorant Hands, it makes\nMen wanton and giddy, unconcerned at the Misfortunes they are imposing on\ntheir Fellow Creatures, and keeps them smiling at the Mischiefs, that bring\nthemselves no Advantage. _They are like mad Men, that cast Fire-Brands,\nArrows, and Death, and say, are not we in Sport?_\n_Roberts_ mann'd the _Bristol_ Galley he took in the Harbour, and mounted\n16 Guns on Board her, and cruising out upon the Banks, he met with nine or\nten Sail of _French_ Ships, all which he destroyed except one of 26 Guns,\nwhich they seiz'd, and carried off for their own Use. This Ship they\nchrist'ned _the Fortune_, and leaving the _Bristol_ Galley to the _French_\nMen, they sailed away in Company with the Sloop, on another Cruise, and\ntook several Prizes, _viz._ the _Richard_ of _Biddiford, Jonathan\nWhitfield_ Master; the _Willing Mind_ of _Pool_; the _Expectation_ of\n_Topsham_; and the _Samuel_, Captain _Cary_, of _London_; out of these\nShips they encreased their Company, by entring all the Men they could well\nspare, in their own Service. The _Samuel_ was a rich Ship, and had several\nPassengers on Board, who were used very roughly, in order to make them\ndiscover their Money, threatning them every Moment with Death, if they did\nnot resign every Thing up to them. They tore up the Hatches and entered the\nHold like a parcel of Furies, and with Axes and Cutlashes, cut and broke\nopen all the Bales, Cases, and Boxes, they could lay their Hands on; and\nwhen any Goods came upon Deck, that they did not like to carry aboard,\ninstead of tossing them into the Hold again, threw them over-board into the\nSea; all this was done with incessant cursing and swearing, more like\nFiends than Men. They carried with them, Sails, Guns, Powder, Cordage, and\n8 or 9000 l. worth of the choicest Goods; and told Captain _Cary, That they\nshould accept of no Act of Grace; that the K-- and P--t might be damned\nwith their Acts of G-- for them; neither would they go to_ Hope-Point, _to\nbe hang'd up a Sun drying, as_ Kidd_'s, and_ Braddish_'s Company were; but\nthat if they should ever be overpower'd, they would set Fire to the Powder,\nwith a Pistol, and go all merrily to Hell together._\nAfter they had brought all the Booty aboard, a Consultation was held\nwhether they should sink or burn the Ship, but whilst they were debating\nthe Matter, they spyed a Sail, and so left the _Samuel_, to give her Chace;\nat Midnight they came up with the same, which proved to be a Snow from\n_Bristol_, bound for _Boston_, Captain _Bowles_ Master: They us'd him\nbarbarously, because of his Country, Captain _Rogers_, who attack'd them\noff _Barbadoes_, being of the City of _Bristol._\n_July_ the 16th, which was two Days afterwards, they took a _Virginia_ Man\ncalled the _Little York, James Philips_ Master, and the _Love_, of\n_Leverpool_, which they plundered and let go; the next Day a Snow from\n_Bristol_, call'd the _Phoenix, John Richards_ Master, met with the same\nFate from them; as also a Brigantine, Captain _Thomas_, and a Sloop called\nthe _Sadbury_; they took all the Men out of the Brigantine, and sunk the\nVessel.\nWhen they left the Banks of _Newfoundland_, they sailed for the\n_West-Indies_, and the Provisions growing short, they went for the Latitude\nof the Island _Deseada_, to cruise, it being esteemed the likeliest Place\nto meet with such Ships as (they used in their Mirth to say) were consigned\nto them, with Supplies. And it has been very much suspected that Ships have\nloaded with Provisions at the _English_ Colonies, on pretence of Trading on\nthe Coast of _Africa_, when they have in reality been consigned to them;\nand tho' a shew of Violence is offered to them when they meet, yet they are\npretty sure of bringing their Cargo to a good Market.\nHowever, at this Time they missed with their usual Luck, and Provisions and\nNecessaries becoming more scarce every Day, they retired towards St.\n_Christophers_, where being deny'd all Succour or Assistance from the\nGovernment, they fir'd in Revenge on the Town, and burnt two Ships in the\nRoad, one of them commanded by Captain _Cox_, of _Bristol_; and then\nretreated farther to the Island of St. _Bartholomew_, where they met with\nmuch handsomer Treatment. The Governor not only supplying them with\nRefreshments, but he and the Chiefs carressing them in the most friendly\nManner: And the Women, from so good an Example, endeavoured to outvie each\nother in Dress, and Behaviour, to attract the good Graces of such generous\nLovers, that paid well for their Favours.\nSated at length with these Pleasures, and having taken on Board a good\nsupply of fresh Provisions, they voted unanimously for the Coast of\n_Guiney_, and in the Latitude of 22 N. in their Voyage thither, met with a\n_French_ Ship from _Martinico_, richly laden, and, which was unlucky for\nthe Master, had a property of being fitter for their Purpose, than the\nBanker. _Exchange was no Robbery_ they said, and so after a little mock\nComplaisance to _Monsieur_, for the Favour he had done them, they shifted\ntheir Men, and took leave: This was their first _Royal Fortune._\nIn this Ship _Roberts_ proceeded on his designed Voyage; but before they\nreached _Guiney_, he proposed to touch at _Brava_, the Southermost of\n_Cape_ _Verd_ Islands and clean. But here again by an intolerable Stupidity\nand want of Judgment, they got so far to Leeward of their Port, that\ndespairing to regain it, or any of the Windward Parts of _Africa_, they\nwere obliged to go back again with the Trade-Wind, for the _West-Indies_;\nwhich had very near been the Destruction of them all. _Surinam_ was the\nPlace now designed for, which was at no less than 700 Leagues Distance, and\nthey had but one Hogshead of Water left to supply 124 Souls for that\nPassage; a sad Circumstance that eminently exposes the Folly and Madness\namong Pyrates, and he must be an inconsiderate Wretch indeed, who, if he\ncould separate the Wickedness and Punishment from the Fact, would yet\nhazard his Life amidst such Dangers, as their want of Skill and Forecast\nmade them liable to.\nTheir Sins, we may presume were never so troublesome to their Memories, as\nnow, that inevitable Destruction seem'd to threaten them, without the least\nGlympse of Comfort or Alleviation to their Misery; for, with what Face\ncould Wretches who had ravaged and made so many Necessitous, look up for\nRelief; they had to that Moment lived in Defiance of the Power that now\nalone they must trust for their Preservation, and indeed without the\nmiraculous Intervention of Providence, there appeared only this miserable\nChoice, viz. a present Death by their own Hands, or a ling'ring one by\nFamine.\nThey continued their Course, and came to an Allowance of one single\nMouthful of Water for 24 Hours; many of them drank their Urine, or Sea\nWater, which, instead of allaying, gave them an inextinguishable Thirst,\nthat killed them: Others pined and wasted a little more Time in Fluxes and\nApyrexies, so that they dropped away daily. Those that sustain'd the Misery\nbest, were such as almost starved themselves, forbearing all sorts of Food,\nunless a Mouthful or two of Bread the whole Day, so that those who survived\nwere as weak as it was possible for Men to be and alive.\nBut if the dismal Prospect they set out with, gave them Anxiety, Trouble,\nor Pain, what must their Fears and Apprehensions be, when they had not one\nDrop of Water left, or any other Liquor to moisten or animate. This was\ntheir Case, when (by the working of Divine Providence, no doubt,) they were\nbrought into Soundings, and at Night anchored in seven Fathom Water: This\nwas an inexpressible Joy to them, and, as it were, fed the expiring Lamp of\nLife with fresh Spirits; but this could not hold long. When the Morning\ncame, they saw Land from the Mast-Head, but it was at so great a Distance,\nthat it afforded but an indifferent Prospect to Men who had drank nothing\nfor the two last Days; however, they dispatch'd their Boat away, and late\nthe same Night it return'd, to their no small Comfort, with a load of\nWater, informing them, that they had got off the Mouth of _Meriwinga_ River\non the Coast of _Surinam._\nOne would have thought so miraculous an Escape should have wrought some\nReformation, but alass, they had no sooner quenched their Thirst, but they\nhad forgot the Miracle, till Scarcity of Provisions awakened their Senses,\nand bid them guard against starving; their allowance was very small, and\nyet they would profanely say, _That Providence which had gave them Drink,\nwould, no doubt, bring them Meat also, if they would use but an honest\nEndeavour._\nIn pursuance of these honest Endeavours, they were steering for the\nLatitude of _Barbadoes_, with what little they had left, to look out for\nmore, or Starve; and, in their Way, met a Ship that answered their\nNecessities, and after that a Brigantine; the former was called the\n_Greyhound_, belonging to St. _Christophers_, and bound to _Philadelphia_,\nthe Mate of which signed the Pyrate's Articles, and was afterwards Captain\nof the _Ranger_, Consort to the _Royal Fortune._\nOut of the Ship and Brigantine, the Pyrates got a good supply of Provisions\nand Liquor, so that they gave over the designed Cruise, and watered at\n_Tobago_, and hearing of the two Sloops that had been fitted out and sent\nafter them at _Corvocoo_, they sailed to the Island of _Martinico_, to make\nthe Governor some sort of an Equivalent, for the Care and Expedition he had\nshewn in that Affair.\nIt is the Custom at _Martinico_, for the _Dutch_ Interlopers that have a\nMind to Trade with the People of the Island, to hoist their Jacks when they\ncome before the Town: _Roberts_ knew the Signal, and being an utter Enemy\nto them, he bent his Thoughts upon Mischief; and accordingly came in with\nhis Jack flying, which, as he expected, they mistook for a good Market, and\nthought themselves happiest that could soonest dispatch off their Sloops\nand Vessels for Trade. When _Roberts_ had got them within his Power, (one\nafter another,) he told them, he would not have it said that they came off\nfor nothing, and therefore ordered them to leave their Money behind, for\nthat they were a Parcel of Rogues, and hoped they would always meet with\nsuch a _Dutch_ Trade as this was; he reserved one Vessel to set the\nPassengers on Shore again, and fired the rest, to the Number of twenty.\n_Roberts_ was so enraged at the Attempts that had been made for taking of\nhim, by the Governors of _Barbados_ and _Martinico_, that he ordered a new\nJack to be made, which they ever after hoisted, with his own Figure\npourtray'd, standing upon two Skulls, and under them the Letters _A B H_\nand _A M H_, signifying a _Barbadian_'s and a _Martinican_'s Head, as may\nbe seen in the Plate of Captain _Roberts._\nAt _Dominico_, the next Island they touched at, they took a _Dutch_\nInterloper of 22 Guns and 75 Men, and a Brigantine belonging to\n_Rhode-Island_, one _Norton_ Master. The former made some Defence, till\nsome of his Men being killed, the rest were discouraged and struck their\nColours. With these two Prizes they went down to _Guadalupe_, and brought\nout a Sloop, and a _French_ Fly-Boat laden with Sugar; the Sloop they\nburnt, and went on to _Moonay_, another Island, thinking to clean, but\nfinding the Sea ran too high there to undertake it with Safety, they bent\ntheir Course for the North Part of _Hispaniola_, where, at Bennet's Key, in\nthe Gulf of _Saminah_, they cleaned both the Ship and the Brigantine. For\ntho' _Hispaniola_ be settled by the _Spaniards_ and _French_, and is the\nResidence of a President from _Spain_, who receives, and finally determines\nAppeals from all the other _Spanish West-India_ Islands; yet is its People\nby no Means proportioned to its Magnitude, so that there are many Harbours\nin it, to which Pyrates may securely resort without Fear of Discovery from\nthe Inhabitants.\nWhilst they were here, two Sloops came in, as they pretended, to pay\n_Roberts_ a Visit, the Masters, whose Names were _Porter_ and _Tuckerman_,\naddressed the Pyrate, as the Queen of _Sheba_ did _Solomon_, to wit, _That\nhaving heard of his Fame and Atchievements_, they had put in there to learn\nhis Art and Wisdom in the Business of pyrating, being Vessels on the same\nhonourable Design with himself; and hoped with the Communication of his\nKnowledge, they should also receive his Charity, being in want of\nNecessaries for such Adventures. _Roberts_ was won upon by the Peculiarity\nand Bluntness of these two Men, and gave them Powder, Arms, and what ever\nelse they had Occasion for, spent two or three merry Nights with them, and\nat parting, said, _he hoped the L-- would Prosper their handy Works._\nThey passed some Time here, after they had got their Vessel ready, in their\nusual Debaucheries; they had taken a considerable Quanty of Rum and Sugar,\nso that Liquor was as plenty as Water, and few there were, who denied\nthemselves the immoderate Use of it; nay, Sobriety brought a Man under a\nSuspicion of being in a Plot against the Commonwealth, and in their Sense,\nhe was looked upon to be a Villain that would not be drunk. This was\nevident in the Affair of _Harry Glasby_, chosen Master of the _Royal\nFortune_, who, with two others, laid hold of the Opportunity at the last\nIsland they were at, to move off without bidding Farewel to his Friends.\n_Glasby_ was a reserved sober Man, and therefore gave Occasion to be\nsuspected, so that he was soon missed after he went away; and a Detachment\nbeing sent in quest of the Deserters, they were all three brought back\nagain the next Day. This was a capital Offence, and for which they were\nordered to be brought to an immediate Tryal.\nHere was the Form of Justice kept up, which is as much as can be said of\nseveral other Courts, that have more lawful Commissions for what they\ndo.--Here was no feeing of Council, and bribing of Witnesses was a Custom\nnot known among them; no packing of Juries, no torturing and wresting the\nSense of the Law, for bye Ends and Purposes, no puzzling or perplexing the\nCause with unintelligible canting Terms, and useless Distinctions; nor was\ntheir Sessions burthened with numberless Officers, the Ministers of Rapine\nand Extortion, with ill boding Aspects, enough to fright _Astr\u00e6a_ from the\nCourt. The Place appointed for their Tryals, was the Steerage of the Ship;\nin order to which, a large Bowl of Rum Punch was made, and placed upon the\nTable, the Pipes and Tobacco being ready, the judicial Proceedings began;\nthe Prisoners were brought forth, and Articles of Indictment against them\nread; they were arraigned upon a Statute of their own making, and the\nLetter of the Law being strong against them, and the Fact plainly proved,\nthey were about to pronounce Sentence, when one of the Judges mov'd, that\nthey should first Smoak t'other Pipe; which was accordingly done.\nAll the Prisoners pleaded for Arrest of Judgment very movingly, but the\nCourt had such an Abhorrence of their Crime, that they could not be\nprevailed upon to shew Mercy, till one of the Judges, whose Name was\n_Valentine Ashplant_, stood up, and taking his Pipe out of his Mouth, said,\nhe had something to offer to the Court in behalf of one of the Prisoners;\nand spoke to this Effect.-- _By G--_, Glasby _shall not dye; d--n me if he\nshall._ After this learned Speech, he sat down in his Place, and resumed\nhis Pipe. This Motion was loudly opposed by all the rest of the Judges, in\nequivalent Terms; but _Ashplant_, who was resolute in his Opinion, made\nanother pathetical Speech in the following Manner. _G-- d--n ye Gentlemen,\nI am as good a Man as the best of you; d--m my_ S--l _if ever I turned my\nBack to any Man in my Life, or ever will, by G_--; Glasby _is an honest\nFellow, notwithstanding this Misfortune, and I love him, D--l d--n me if I\ndon't: I hope he'll live and repent of what he has done; but d--n me if he\nmust dye, I will dye along with him._ And thereupon, he pulled out a pair\nof Pistols, and presented them to some of the learned Judges upon the\nBench; who, perceiving his Argument so well supported, thought it\nreasonable that _Glasby_ should be acquitted; and so they all came over to\nhis Opinion, and allowed it to be Law.\nBut all the Mitigation that could be obtained for the other Prisoners, was,\nthat they should have the Liberty of choosing any four of the whole Company\nto be their Executioners. The poor Wretches were ty'd immediately to the\nMast, and there shot dead, pursuant to their villainous Sentence.\nWhen they put to Sea again, the Prizes which had been detained only for\nfear of spreading any Rumour concerning them, which had like to have been\nso fatal at _Corvocoo_, were thus disposed of: They burnt their own Sloop,\nand mann'd _Norton_'s Brigantine, sending the Master away in the _Dutch_\nInterloper, not dissatisfied.\nWith the _Royal Fortune_, and the Brigantine, which they christened the\n_Good Fortune_, they pushed towards the Latitude of _Deseada_, to look out\nfor Provisions, being very short again, and just to their Wish, Captain\n_Hingstone_'s ill Fortune brought him in their Way, richly laden for\n_Jamaica_; him they carried to _Berbudas_ and plundered; and stretching\nback again to the _West-Indies_, they continually met with some Consignment\nor other, (chiefly _French,)_ which stored them with Plenty of Provisions,\nand recruited their starving Condition; so that stocked with this sort of\nAmmunition, they began to think of something worthier their Aim, for these\nRobberies that only supplied what was in constant Expenditure, by no Means\nanswered their Intentions; and accordingly they proceeded again for the\nCoast of _Guiney_, where they thought to buy Gold-Dust very cheap. In their\nPassage thither, they took Numbers of Ships of all Nations, some of which\nthey burnt or sunk, as the Carriage or Characters of the Masters displeased\nthem.\nNotwithstanding the successful Adventures of this Crew, yet it was with\ngreat Difficulty they could be kept together, under any kind of Regulation;\nfor being almost always mad or drunk, their Behaviour produced infinite\nDisorders, every Man being in his own Imagination a Captain, a Prince, or a\nKing. When _Roberts_ saw there was no managing of such a Company of wild\nungovernable Brutes, by gentle means, nor to keep them from drinking to\nexcess, the Cause of all their Disturbances, he put on a rougher\nDeportment, and a more magesterial Carriage towards them, correcting whom\nhe thought fit; and if any seemed to resent his Usage, he told them, _they\nmight go ashore and take Satisfaction of him, if they thought fit, at Sword\nand Pistol, for he neither valu'd or fear'd any of them._\nAbout 400 Leagues from the Coast of _Africa_, the Brigantine who had\nhitherto lived with them, in all amicable Correspondence, thought fit to\ntake the Opportunity of a dark Night, and leave the Commadore, which leads\nme back to the Relation of an Accident that happened at one of the Islands\nof the _West-Indies_, where they water'd before they undertook this Voyage,\nwhich had like to have thrown their Government (such as it was) off the\nHinges, and was partly the Occasion of the Separation: The Story is as\nfollows.\nCaptain _Roberts_ having been insulted by one of the drunken Crew, (whose\nName I have forgot,) he, in the Heat of his Passion killed the Fellow on\nthe Spot, which was resented by a great many others, put particularly one\n_Jones_, a brisk active young Man, who died lately in the _Marshalsea_, and\nwas his Mess-Mate. This _Jones_ was at that Time ashore a watering the\nShip, but as soon as he came on Board, was told that Captain _Roberts_ had\nkilled his Comrade; upon which he cursed _Roberts_, and said, he ought to\nbe served so himself. _Roberts_ hearing _Jones_'s Invective, ran to him\nwith a Sword, and ran him into the Body; who, notwithstanding his Wound,\nseized the Captain, threw him over a Gun, and beat him handsomely. This\nAdventure put the whole Company in an Uproar, and some taking Part with the\nCaptain, and others against him, there had like to have ensued a general\nBattle with one another, like my Lord _Thomont_'s Cocks; however, the\nTumult was at length appeas'd by the Mediation of the Quarter-Master; and\nas the Majority of the Company were of Opinion that the Dignity of the\nCaptain, ought to be supported on Board; that it was a Post of Honour, and\ntherefore the Person whom they thought fit to confer it on, should not be\nviolated by any single Member; wherefore they sentenced _Jones_ to undergo\ntwo Lashes from every one of the Company, for his Misdemeanour, which was\nexecuted upon him as soon as he was well of his Wound.\nThis severe Punishment did not at all convince _Jones_ that he was in the\nwrong, but rather animated him to some sort of a Revenge; but not being\nable to do it upon _Roberts_'s Person, on Board the Ship, he and several of\nhis Comrades, correspond with _Anstis_, Captain of the Brigantine, and\nconspire with him and some of the principal Pyrates on Board that Vessel,\nto go off from the Company. What made _Anstis_ a Malecontent, was, the\nInferiority he stood in, with Respect to _Roberts_, who carried himself\nwith a haughty and magisterial Air, to him and his Crew, he regarding the\nBrigantine only as a Tender, and, as such, left them no more than the\nRefuse of their Plunder. In short, _Jones_ and his Consort go on Board of\nCaptain _Anstis_, on Pretence of a Visit, and there consulting with their\nBrethren, they find a Majority for leaving of _Roberts_, and so came to a\nResolution to bid a soft Farewel, as they call it, that Night, and to throw\nover-board whosoever should stick out; but they proved to be unanimous, and\neffected their Design as above-mentioned.\nI shall have no more to say of Captain _Anstis_, till the Story of\n_Roberts_ is concluded, therefore I return to him, in the pursuit of his\nVoyage to _Guiney._ The loss of the Brigantine was a sensible Shock to the\nCrew, she being an excellent Sailor, and had 70 Hands aboard; however,\n_Roberts_ who was the Occasion of it, put on a Face of Unconcern at this\nhis ill Conduct and Mismanagement, and resolved not to alter his Purposes\nupon that Account.\n_Roberts_ fell in to Windward nigh the _Senegal_, a River of great Trade\nfor Gum, on this Part of the Coast, monopolized by the _French_, who\nconstantly keep Cruisers, to hinder the interloping Trade: At this Time\nthey had two small Ships on that Service, one of 10 Guns and 65 Men, and\nthe other of 16 Guns and 75 Men; who having got a Sight of Mr. _Roberts_,\nand supposing him to be one of these prohibited Traders, chased with all\nthe Sail they could make, to come up with him; but their Hopes which had\nbrought them very nigh, too late deceived them, for on the hoisting of\n_Jolly Roger_, (the Name they give their black Flag,) their _French_ Hearts\nfailed, and they both surrendred without any, or at least very little\nResistance. With these Prizes they went into _Sierraleon_, and made one of\nthem their Consort, by the Name of the _Ranger_, and the other a\nStore-Ship, to clean by.\n_Sierraleon_ River disgorges with a large Mouth, the Starboard-Side of\nwhich, draughts into little Bays, safe and convenient for cleaning and\nwatering; what still made it preferable to the Pyrates, is, that the\nTraders settled here, are naturally their Friends. There are about 30\n_English_ Men in all, Men who in some Part of their Lives, have been either\nprivateering, buccaneering, or pyrating, and still retain and love the\nRiots, and Humours, common to that sort of Life. They live very friendly\nwith the Natives, and have many of them of both Sexes, to be their\n_Grometta_'s, or Servants: The Men are faithful, and the Women so obedient,\nthat they are very ready to prostitute themselves to whomsoever their\nMasters shall command them. The Royal _African_ Company has a Fort on a\nsmall Island call'd _Bence_ Island, but 'tis of little Use, besides keeping\ntheir Slaves; the Distance making it incapable of giving any Molestation to\ntheir Starboard Shore. Here lives at this Place an old Fellow, who goes by\nthe Name of _Crackers_, who was formerly a noted Buccaneer, and while he\nfollowed the Calling, robb'd and plundered many a Man; he keeps the best\nHouse in the Place, has two or three Guns before his Door, with which he\nSalutes his Friends, (the Pyrates, when they put in) and lives a jovial\nLife with him, all the while they are there.\nHere follows a List, of the rest of those lawless Merchants, and their\nServants, who carry on a private Trade with the Interlopers, to the great\nPrejudice of the Royal _African_ Company, who with extraordinary Industry\nand Expence, have made, and maintain, Settlements without any Consideration\nfrom those, who, without such Settlements and Forts, would soon be under an\nIncapacity of pursuing any such private Trade. Wherefore, 'tis to be hop'd,\nproper Means will be taken, to root out a pernicious set of People, who\nhave all their Lives, supported themselves by the Labours of other Men.\nTwo of these Fellows enter'd with _Robert_'s Crew, and continued with them,\ntill the Destruction of the Company.\n_A List of the White-Men, now living on the high Land of_ Sierraleon,\n_and the Craft they occupy._\nJ_OHN Leadstone_, three Boats and Periagoe.\nHis Man _Tom_,\nHis Man _John Brown._\n_Alexander Middleton_, one Long-Boat,\nHis Man _Charles Hawkins._\n_John Pierce_, Partners, one Long-Boat.\n_William Mead_, Partners, one Long-Boat.\nTheir Man _John Vernon._\n_David Chatmers_, one Long-Boat.\n_John Chatmers_, one Long-Boat.\n_Richard Richardson_, one Long-Boat.\n_Norton_, Partners, two Long-Boats, and two small Boats.\n_Richard Warren_, Partners, two Long-Boats, and two small Boats.\n_Roberts Glynn_, Partners, two Long-Boats, and two small Boats.\nHis Man _John Franks._\n_William Waits_, and one young Man.\n_John Bonnerman._\n_John England_, one Long-Boat.\n_Robert Samples_, one Long-Boat.\n_William Presgrove_, one Sloop, two Long-Boats, a small Boat, and Periagoe.\n_Harry_, one Sloop, two Long-Boats, a small Boat, and Periagoe.\n_Davis_, one Sloop, two Long-Boats, a small Boat, and Periagoe.\n_Mitchel_, one Sloop, two Long-Boats, a small Boat, and Periagoe.\n_Richard Lamb_,\nWith _Roquis Rodrigus_, a _Portuguese._\n_George Bishop._\n_Peter Brown._\n_John Jones_, one Long-Boat,\nHis _Irish_ young Man.\nAt _Rio Pungo, Benjamen Gun._\nAt _Kidham, George Yeats._\nAt _Gallyneas, Richard Lemmons._\nThe Harbour is so convenient for Wooding and Watering, that it occasions\nmany of our trading Ships, especially those of _Bristol_, to call in there,\nwith large Cargoes of Beer, Syder, and strong Liquors, which they Exchange\nwith these private Traders, for Slaves and Teeth, purchased by them at the\n_Rio Nune_'s, and other Places to the Northward, so that here was what they\ncall good Living.\nHither _Roberts_ came the End of _June_, 1721, and had Intelligence that\nthe _Swallow_, and _Weymouth_, two Men of War, of 50 Guns each, had left\nthat River about a Month before, and designed to return about _Christmas_;\nso that the Pyrates could indulge themselves with all the Satisfaction in\nthe World, in that they knew they were not only secure whilst there, but\nthat in going down the Coast, after the Men of War, they should always be\nable to get such Intelligence of their Rendezvous, as would serve to make\ntheir Expedition safe. So after six Weeks stay, the Ships being cleaned and\nfitted, and the Men weary of whoring and drinking, they bethought\nthemselves of Business, and went to Sea the Beginning of _August_, taking\ntheir Progress down the whole Coast, as low as _Jaquin_, plundering every\nShip they met, of what was valuable in her, and sometimes to be more\nmischieviously wicked, would throw what they did not want, overboard,\naccumulating Cruelty to Theft.\nIn this Range, they exchanged their old _French_ Ship, for a fine Frigate\nbuilt Ship, call'd the _Onslow_, belonging to the Royal _African_ Company,\nCaptain _Gee_ Commander, which happened to lye at _Sestos_, to get Water\nand Necessaries for the Company. A great many of Captain _Gee_'s Men were\nashore, when _Robert_'s bore down, and so the Ship consequently surpriz'd\ninto his Hands, tho' had they been all on Board, it was not likely the Case\nwould have been otherwise, the Sailors, most of them, voluntarily joyning\nthe Pyrates, and encouraging the same Disposition in the Soldiers, (who\nwere going Passengers with them to _Cape-Corso-Castle_) whose Ears being\nconstantly tickled with the Feats and Gallantry of those Fellows, made them\nfancy, that _to go_, was only being bound on a Voyage of Knight Errantry\n(to relieve the Distress'd, and gather up Fame) and so they likewise\noffer'd themselves; but here the Pyrates were at a Stand, they entertain'd\nso contemptible a Notion of Landmen, that they put 'em off with Refusals\nfor some time, till at length, being weary'd with Solicitations, and\npittying a Parcel of stout Fellows, which they said, were going to starve\nupon a little Canky and Plantane, they accepted of them, and allow'd them \u00bc\nShare, as it was then term'd out of Charity.\nThere was a Clergyman on Board the _Onslow_, sent from _England_, to be\nChaplain of _Cape-Corso-Castle_, some of the Pyrates were for keeping him,\nalledging merrily, that their Ship wanted a Chaplain; accordingly they\noffered him a Share, to take on with them, promising, he should do nothing\nfor his Money, but make Punch, and say Prayers; yet, however brutish they\nmight be in other Things, they bore so great a Respect to his Order, that\nthey resolved not to force him against his Inclinations; and the Parson\nhaving no Relish for this sort of Life, excused himself from accepting the\nHonour they designed him; they were satisfied, and generous enough to\ndeliver him back every Thing he owned to be his: The Parson laid hold of\nthis favourable Disposition of the Pyrates, and laid Claim to several\nThings belonging to others, which were also given up, to his great\nSatisfaction; in fine, they kept nothing which belonged to the Church,\nexcept three Prayer-Books, and a Bottle-Screw.\nThe Pyrates kept the _Onslow_ for their own Use, and gave Captain _Gee_ the\n_French_ Ship, and then fell to making such Alterations as might fit her\nfor a Sea-Rover, pulling down her Bulk-Heads, and making her flush, so that\nshe became, in all Respects, as compleat a Ship for their Purpose, as any\nthey could have found; they continued to her the Name of the _Royal\nFortune_, and mounted her with 40 Guns.\nShe and the _Ranger_ proceeded (as I said before,) to _Jaquin_, and from\nthence to _Old Calabar_, where they arrived about _October_, in order to\nclean their Ships, a Place the most suitable along the whole Coast, for\nthere is a Bar with not above 15 Foot Water upon it, and the Channel\nintricate, so that had the Men of War been sure of their being harbour'd\nhere, they might still have bid Defiance to their Strength, for the Depth\nof Water at the Bar, as well as the want of a Pilot, was a sufficient\nSecurity to the Rovers, and invincible Impediments to them. Here therefore\nthey sat easy, and divided the Fruits of their dishonest Instustry, _and\ndrank and drove Care away._ The Pilot who brought them into this Harbour,\nwas Captain _L--e_, who for this, and other Services, was extreamly well\npaid, according to the Journal of their own Accounts, which do not run in\nthe ordinary and common way, of _Debtor, contra Creditor_, but much more\nconcise, lumping it to their Friends, and so carrying the Debt in their\nHeads, against the next honest Trader they meet. They took at _Calabar_,\nCaptain _Loane_, and two or three _Bristol_ Ships, the Particulars of all\nwhich would be an unnecessary Prolixity, therefore I come now to give an\nAccount of the Usage they received from the Natives of this Place. The\n_Calabar_ Negroes did not prove so civil as they expected, for they refused\nto have any Commerce or Trade with them, when they understood they were\nPyrates: An Indication that these poor Creatures, in the narrow\nCircumstances they were in, and without the Light of the Gospel, or the\nAdvantage of an Education, have, notwithstanding, such a moral innate\nHonesty, as would upbraid and shame the most knowing Christian: But this\ndid but exasperate these lawless Fellows, and so a Party of 40 Men were\ndetach'd to force a Correspondence, or drive the Negroes to Extremities;\nand they accordingly landed under the Fire of their own Cannon. The Negroes\ndrew up in a Body of 2000 Men, as if they intended to dispute the Matter\nwith them, and staid till the Pyrates advanced within Pistol-shot; but\nfinding the Loss of two or three, made no Impression on the rest, the\nNegroes thought fit to retreat, which they did, with some Loss: The Pyrates\nset Fire to the Town, and then return'd to their Ships. This terrified the\nNatives, and put an entire stop to all the Intercourse between them; so\nthat they could get no Supplies, which obliged them, as soon as they had\nfinished the cleaning and triming of their Ships, to lose no Time, but went\nfor Cape _Lopez_, and watered, and at _Anna-Bona_ took aboard a Stock of\nfresh Provisions, and then sailed for the Coast again.\nThis was their last and fatal Expedition, which we shall be more particular\nin, because, it cannot be imagined that they could have had Assurance to\nhave undertaken it, but upon a Presumption, that the Men of War, (whom they\nknew were upon the Coast,) were unable to attack them, or else pursuant to\nthe Rumour that had indiscretionally obtained at _Sierraleon_, were gone\nthither again.\nIt is impossible at this Time, to think they could know of the weak and\nsickly Condition they were in, and therefore founded the Success of this\nsecond Attempt upon the Coast, on the latter Presumption, and this seems to\nbe confirmed by their falling in with the Coast as low as Cape _Lahou_,\n(and even that was higher than they designed,) in the beginning of\n_January_, and took the Ship called the _King Solomon_, with 20 Men in\ntheir Boat, and a trading Vessel, both belonging to the Company. The Pyrate\nShip happened to fall about a League to Leeward of the _King Solomon_, at\nCape _Appollonia_, and the Current and Wind opposing their working up with\nthe Ship, they agreed to send the Long-Boat, with a sufficient Number of\nMen to take her: The Pyrates are all Voluntiers on these Occasions, the\nWord being always given, _who will go?_ And presently the stanch and firm\nMen offer themselves; because, by such Readiness, they recommend their\nCourage, and have an Allowance also of a Shift of Cloaths, from Head to\nFoot, out of the Prize.\nThey rowed towards the _King Solomon_ with a great deal of Alacrity, and\nbeing hailed by the Commander of her, answered, _Defiance_; Captain\n_Trahern_, before this, observing a great Number of Men in the Boat, began\nnot to like his Visitors, and prepared to receive them, firing a Musket as\nthey come under his Stern, which they returned with a Volley, and made\ngreater Speed to get on Board: Upon this, he applied to his Men, and ask'd\nthem, whether they would stand by him, to defend the Ship, it being a Shame\nthey should be taken by half their Number, without any Repulse? But his\nBoatswain, _Philips_, took upon him to be the Mouth of the People, and put\nan End to the Dispute; he said plainly, he would not, laid down his Arms in\nthe King's Name, as he was pleased to term it, and called out to the Boat\nfor Quarters, so that the rest, by his Example, were mislead to the losing\nof the Ship.\nWhen they came on Board, they brought her under Sail, by an expeditious\nMethod, of cutting the Cable; _Walden_, one of the Pyrates, telling the\nMaster, this _yo hope_ of heaving up the Anchor was a needless trouble,\nwhen they designed to burn the Ship. They brought her under Commadore\n_Roberts_'s Stern, and not only rifled her of what Sails, Cordage, _&c._\nthey wanted for themselves, but wantonly throw'd the Goods of the Company\noverboard, like Spend-thrifts, that neither expected or designed any\nAccount.\nOn the same Day also, they took the _Flushing_, a _Dutch_ Ship, robbed her\nof Masts, Yards and Stores, and then cut down her Fore-Mast; but what sat\nas heavily as any thing with the _Skipper_, was, their taking some fine\nSausages he had on Board, of his Wife's making, and stringing them in a\nludicrous Manner, round their Necks, till they had sufficiently shew'd\ntheir Contempt of them, and then threw them into the Sea. Others chopp'd\nthe Heads of his Fowls off, to be dressed for their Supper, and courteously\ninvited the Landlord, provided he would find Liquor. It was a melancholly\nRequest to the Man, but it must be comply'd with, and he was obliged, as\nthey grew drunk, to sit quietly, and hear them sing _French_ and _Spanish_\nSongs out of his _Dutch_ Prayer-Books, with other Prophaness, that he (tho'\na _Dutch_ Man) stood amazed at.\nIn chasing too near in, they alarmed the Coast, and Expresses were sent to\nthe _English_ and _Dutch_ Factories, giving an Account of it: They were\nsensible of this Error immediately, and because they would make the best of\na bad Market, resolved to keep out of sight of Land, and lose the Prizes\nthey might expect between that and _Whydah_, to make the more sure of that\nPort, where commonly is the best Booty; all Nations trading thither,\nespecially _Portuguese_, who purchase chiefly with Gold, the Idol their\nHearts were bent upon. And notwithstanding this unlikely Course, they met\nand took several Ships between _Axim_ and that Place; the circumstantial\nStories of which, and the pannick Terrors they struck into his Majesty's\nSubjects, being tedious and unnecessary to relate, I shall pass by, and\ncome to their Arrival in that Road.\nThey came to _Whydah_ with a St. _George_'s Ensign, a black Silk Flag\nflying at their Mizen-Peek, and a Jack and Pendant of the same: The Flag\nhad a Death in it, with an Hour-Glass in one Hand, and cross Bones in the\nother, a Dart by it, and underneath a Heart dropping three Drops of\nBlood.--The Jack had a Man pourtray'd in it, with a flaming Sword in his\nHand, and standing on two Skulls, subscribed _A B H_ and _A M H i. e._ a\n_Barbadian_'s and a _Martinican_'s Head, as has been before taken Notice\nof. Here they found eleven Sail in the Road, _English, French_ and\n_Portuguese_; the _French_ were three stout Ships of 30 Guns, and upwards\nof 100 Men each, yet when _Roberts_ came to Fire, they, with the other\nShips, immediately struck their Colours and surrendred to his Mercy. One\nReason, it must be confess'd, of his easy Victory, was, the Commanders and\na good Part of the Men being ashore, according to the Custom of the Place,\nto receive the Cargoes, and return the Slaves, they being obliged to watch\nthe Seasons for it, which otherwise, in so dangerous a Sea as here, would\nbe impracticable. These all, except the _Porcupine_, ransomed with him for\neight Pound of Gold-Dust, a Ship, not without the trouble of some Letters\npassing and repassing from the Shore, before they could settle it; and\nnotwithstanding the Agreement and Payment, they took away one of the\n_French_ Ships, tho' with a Promise to return her, if they found she did\nnot sail well, taking with them several of her Men for that End.\nSome of the Foreigners, who never had Dealing this Way before, desired for\nSatisfaction to their Owners, that they might have Receipts for their\nMoney, which were accordingly given, a Copy of one of them, I have here\nsubjoined, _viz._\nT_HIS is to certify whom it may or doth concern, that we_ GENTLEMEN\nOF FORTUNE, _have received eight Pounds of Gold-Dust, for the Ransom of\nthe_ Hardey, _Captain_ Dittwitt _Commander, so that we Discharge the said\nShip_,\n_Witness our Hands, this_ 13_th of_ Jan. 1721-2.\nBatt. Roberts, Harry Glasby.\nOthers were given to the _Portuguese_ Captains, which were in the same\nForm, but being sign'd by two waggish Fellows, _viz. Sutton_, and\n_Sympson_, they subscribed by the Names of,\n_Aaron Whifflingpin_, _Sim. Tugmutton._\nBut there was something so singularly cruel and barbarous done here to the\n_Porcupine_, Captain _Fletcher_, as must not be passed over without special\nRemark.\nThis Ship lay in the Road, almost slaved, when the Pyrates came in, and the\nCommander being on Shore, settling his Accounts, was sent to for the\nRansom, but he excused it, as having no Orders from the Owners; though the\ntrue Reason might be, that he thought it dishonourable to treat with\nRobbers; and that the Ship, separate from the Slaves, towards whom he could\nmistrust no Cruelty, was not worth the Sum demanded; hereupon, _Roberts_\nsends the Boat to transport the Negroes, in order to set her on Fire; but\nbeing in hast, and finding that unshackling them cost much Time and Labour,\nthey actually set her on Fire, with eighty of those poor Wretches on Board,\nchained two and two together, under the miserable Choice of perishing by\nFire or Water: Those who jumped overboard from the Flames, were seized by\nSharks, a voracious Fish, in Plenty in this Road, and, in their Sight, tore\nLimb from Limb alive. A Cruelty unparalell'd! And for which had every\nIndividual been hanged, few I imagine would think that Justice had been\nrigorous.\nThe Pyrates, indeed, were obliged to dispatch their Business here in hast,\nbecause they had intercepted a Letter from General _Phips_ to Mr.\n_Baldwin_, the Royal _African_ Company's Agent at _Whydah_, (giving an\nAccount, that _Roberts_ had been seen to Windward of Cape _Three Points_,)\nthat he might the better guard against the Damages to the Company's Ships,\nif he should arrive at that Road before the _Swallow_ Man of War, which he\nassured him, (at the Time of that Letter,) was pursuing them to that Place.\n_Roberts_ call'd up his Company, and desired they would hear _Phip_'s\nSpeech, (for so he was pleased to call the Letter,) and notwithstanding\ntheir vapouring, perswaded them of the Necessity of moving; for, says he,\nsuch brave Fellows cannot be supposed to be frightned at this News, yet\nthat it were better to avoid dry Blows, which is the best that can be\nexpected, if overtaken.\nThis Advice weigh'd with them, and they got under Sail, having stay'd only\nfrom _Thursday_ to _Saturday_ Night, and at Sea voted for the Island of\n_Anna Bona_; but the Winds hanging out of the Way, crossed their Purpose,\nand brought them to Cape _Lopez_, where I shall leave them for their\napproaching Fate, and relate some further Particulars of his Majesty's Ship\nthe _Swallow, viz._ where it was she had spent her Time, during the\nMischief that was done, and by what Means unable to prevent it; what also\nwas the Intelligence she received, and the Measures thereon formed, that at\nlast brought two such Strangers as Mr _Roberts_ and Capt. _Ogle_, to meet\nin so remote a Corner of the World.\nThe _Swallow_ and _Weymouth_ left _Sierraleon, May_ 28, where, I have\nalready taken Notice, _Roberts_ arrived about a Month after, and doubtless\nlearn'd the Intent of their Voyage, and cleaning on the Coast; which made\nhim set down with more Security to his Diversion, and furnish him with such\nIntimations, as made his first Range down the Coast in _August_ following,\nmore prosperous; the _Swallow_ and _Weymouth_ being then at the Port of\n_Princes_ a cleaning.\nTheir Stay at _Princes_ was from _July_ 28 to _Sept._ 20, 1721, where, by a\nFatality, common to the Irregularities of Seamen, (who cannot in such Cases\nbe kept under due Restraints,) they buried 100 Men in three Weeks time, and\nreduced the Remainder of the Ships Companies into so sickly a State, that\nit was with Difficulty they brought them to sail; and this Misfortune was\nprobably the Ruin of _Roberts_, for it prevented the Men of War's going\nback to _Sierraleon_, as it was intended, there being a Necessity of\nleaving his Majesty's Ship _Weymouth_ (in much the worse Condition of the\ntwo) under the Guns of Cape _Corso_, to impress Men, being unable at this\nTime, either to hand the Sails, or weigh her Anchor; and _Roberts_ being\nignorant of the Occasion or Alteration of the first Design, fell into the\nMouth of Danger, when he thought himself the farthest from it; for the Men\nof War not endeavouring to attain further to Windward (when they came from\n_Princes_) then to secure Cape _Corso_ Road under their Lee, they luckily\nhovered in the Track he had took.\nThe _Swallow_ and _Weymouth_ fell in with the Continent at Cape\n_Appollonia, Octo._ 20th, and there received the ungrateful News from one\nCaptain _Bird_; a Notice that awaken'd and put them on their Guard; but\nthey were far from expecting any Temerity should ever bring him a second\nTime on the Coast, while they were there; therefore the _Swallow_ having\nseen the _Weymouth_ into Cape _Corso_ Road _Nov._ 10th, she ply'd to\nWindward as far as _Bassam_, rather as an Airing to recover a sickly Ship's\nCompany, and shew herself to the Trade, which was found every where\nundisturb'd, and were, for that Reason, returning to her Consort, when\naccidently meeting a _Portuguese_ Ship, she told her, that the Day before\nshe saw two Ships Chace into _Junk_, an _English_ Vessel, which she\nbelieved must have fallen into their Hands. On this Story, the _Swallow_\nclung her Wind, and endeavoured to gain that Place, but receiving soon\nafter (_Octo._ the 14th) a contrary Report from Captain _Plummer_, an\nintelligent Man, in the _Jason_ of _Bristol_, who had come further to\nWindward, and neither saw or heard any Thing of this; she turned her Head\ndown the second Time, anchored at Cape _Appollonia_ the 23d, at Cape _Tres\nPuntas_ the 27th, and in _Corso_ Road _January_ the 7th, 1721-2.\nThey learned that their Consort the _Weymouth_, was, by the Assistance of\nsome Soldiers from the Castle, gone to Windward, to demand Restitution of\nsome Goods or Men belonging to the _African_ Company, that were illegally\ndetained by the _Dutch_ at _Des Minas_; and while they were regretting so\nlong a Separation, an Express came to General _Phips_, from _Axim_, the\n9th, and followed by another from _Dixcove_, (an _English_ Factory,) with\nInformation that three Ships had chased and taken a Galley nigh _Axim_\nCastle, and a trading Boat belonging to the Company: No doubt was made,\nconcerning what they were, it being taken for granted they were Pyrates,\nand supposed to be the same that had the _August_ before infested the\nCoast. The natural Result therefore, from these two Advices, was, to hasten\nfor _Whydah_; for it was conclued the Prizes they had taken, had informed\nthem how nigh the _Swallow_ was, and withal, how much better in Health than\nshe had been for some Months past; so that unless they were very mad\nindeed, they would (after being discovered) make the best of their Way for\n_Whydah_, and secure the Booty there, without which, their Time and\nIndustry had been entirely lost; most of the Gold lying in that Corner.\nThe _Swallow_ weighed from _Cape-Corso, January_ the 10th, but was retarded\nby waiting some Hours on the _Margaret_, a Company's Ship, at _Accra_,\nagain on the _Portugal_, and a whole Day at _Apong_, on a Person they used\nto stile _Miss Betty_: A Conduct that Mr. _Phips_ blamed, when he heard the\nPyrates were miss'd at _Whydah_, altho' he had given it as his Opinion,\nthey could not be passed by, and intimated, that to stay a few Hours would\nprove no Prejudice.\nThis, however, hinder'd the _Swallow_'s catching them at _Whydah_, for the\nPyrates came into that Road, with a fresh Gale of Wind, the same Day the\n_Swallow_ was at _Apong_, and sail'd the 13th of _January_ from thence,\nthat she arrived the 17th. She gained Notice of them by a _French_ Shallop\nfrom _Grand Papa_, the 14th at Night, and from _Little Papa_ next Morning\nby a _Dutch_ Ship; so that the Man of War was on all Sides, as she thought,\nsure of her Purchase, particularly when she made the Ships, and discovered\nthree of them to get under Sail immediately at Sight of her, making Signals\nto one another, as tho' they designed a Defence; but they were found to be\nthree _French_ Ships; and those at Anchor, _Portuguese_ and _English_, all\nhonest Traders, who had been ransack'd and ransom'd.\nThis Disappointment chagreen'd the Ship's Company, who were very intent\nupon their Market; which was reported to be an Arm-Chest full of Gold, and\nkept with three Keys; tho' in all liklyhood, had they met with them in that\nopen Road, one or both would have made their Escapes; or if they had\nthought sit to have fought, an Emulation in their Defence would probably\nhave made it desperate.\nWhile they were contemplating on the Matter, a Letter was received from Mr.\n_Baldwin_, (Governor here for the Company,) signifying, that the Pyrates\nwere at _Jaquin_, seven Leagues lower. The _Swallow_ weighed at two next\nMorning, _January_ the 16th, and got to _Jaquin_ by Day-Light, but to no\nother End, than frightening the Crews of two _Portuguese_ Ships on Shore,\nwho took her for the Pyrate that had struck such Terror at _Whydah_: She\nreturned therefore that Night, and having been strengthened with thirty\nVoluntiers, _English_ and _French_, the discarded Crews of the _Porcupine_,\nand the _French_ Ship they had carried from hence, she put to Sea again\n_January_ the 19th, conjecturing, that either _Calabar, Princes_, the River\n_Gabone_, Cape _Lopez_, or _Annabona_, must be touched at for Water and\nRefreshment, tho' they should resolve to leave the Coast. As to the former\nof those Places, I have before observed, it was hazardous to think of, or\nrather impracticable; _Princes_ had been a sower Grape to them, but being\nthe first in the Way, she came before the Harbour the 29th, where learning\nno News, without loosing Time, steered for the River _Gabone_, and anchored\nat the Mouth of it _February_ the 1st.\nThis River is navigable by two Channels, and has an Island about five\nLeagues up, called _Popaguays_ or _Parrots_, where the _Dutch_ Cruisers,\nfor this Coast, generally Clean, and where sometimes Pyrates come in to\nlook for Prey, or to Refit, it being very convenient, by Reason of a soft\nMud about it, that admits a Ship's lying on Shore, with all her Guns and\nStores in, without Damage. Hither Captain _Ogle_ sent his Boat and a\nLieutenant, who spoke with a _Dutch_ Ship, above the Island, from whom he\nhad this Account, _viz._ That he had been four Days from Cape _Lopez_, and\nhad left no Ship there. However, they beat up for the Cape, without regard\nto this Story, and on the 5th, at Dawning, was surprized with the Noise of\na Gun, which, as the Day brightened, they found was from Cape _Lopez_ Bay,\nwhere they discovered three Ships at Anchor, the largest with the King's\nColours and Pendant flying, which was soon after concluded to be Mr.\n_Roberts_ and his Consorts; but the _Swallow_ being to Windward, and\nunexpectedly deep in the Bay, was obliged to Steer off, for avoiding a\nSand, called the _French Man_'s _Bank_, which the Pyrates observed for some\nTime, and rashly interpreting it to be Fear in her, righted the _French\nRanger_, which was then on the Heel, and ordered her to chase out in all\nhast, bending several of their Sails in the Pursuit. The Man of War finding\nthey had foolishly mistaken her Design, humoured the Deceit, and kept off\nto Sea, as if she had been really afraid, and managed her Steerage so,\nunder the Direction of Lieutenant _Sun_, an experienced Officer, as to let\nthe _Ranger_ come up with her, when they thought they had got so far as not\nto have their Guns heard by her Consort at the Cape. The Pyrates had such\nan Opinion of their own Courage, that they could never dream any Body would\nuse a Stratagem to speak with them, and so was the more easily drawn into\nthe Snare.\nThe Pyrates now drew nigh enough to fire their Chase Guns; they hoisted the\nblack Flag that was worn in _Whydah_ Road, and got their Spritsail Yard\nalong-ships, with Intent to board; no one having ever asked, all this\nwhile, what Country Ship they took the Chase to be; they would have her to\nbe a _Portuguese_, (Sugar being then a Commodity among them,) and were\nswearing every Minute at the Wind or Sails to expedite so sweet a Chase;\nbut, alass, all turned sour in an Instant: It was with the utmost\nConsternation they saw her suddenly bring to, and hawl up her lower Ports,\nnow within Pistol-shot, and struck their black Flag upon it directly. After\nthe first Surprize was over, they kept firing at a Distance, hoisted it\nagain, and vapoured with their Cutlashes on the Poop; tho' wisely\nendeavouring at the same Time to get away. Being now at their Wits end,\nboarding was proposed by the Heads of them, and so to make one desperate\nPush; but the Motion not being well seconded, and their Main-Top-Mast\ncoming down by a Shot, after two Hours firing, it was declin'd; they grew\nSick, struck their Colours, and called out for Quarters; having had 10 Men\nkilled out right, and 20 wounded, without the loss or hurt of one of the\nKing's Men. She had 32 Guns, mann'd with 16 _French_ Men, 20 Negroes, and\n77 _English._ The Colours were thrown over board, that they might not rise\nin Judgment, nor be display'd in Tryumph over them.\nWhile the _Swallow_ was sending their Boat to fetch the Prisoners, a Blast\nand Smoak was seen to pour out of the great Cabin, and they thought they\nwere blowing up; but upon enquiry afterwards, found that half a dozen of\nthe most Desperate, when they saw all Hopes fled, had drawn themselves\nround what Powder they had left in the Steerage, and fired a Pistol into\nit, but it was too small a Quantity to effect any Thing more, than burning\nthem in a frightful Manner.\nThis Ship was commanded by one _Skyrme_, a _Welch_ Man, who, tho' he had\nlost his Leg in the Action, would not suffer himself to be dressed, or\ncarried off the Deck; but, like _Widrington_, fought upon his Stump. The\nrest appeared gay and brisk, most of them with white Shirts, Watches, and a\ndeal of Silk Vests, but the Gold-Dust belonging to them, was most of it\nleft in the _Little Ranger_ in the Bay, (this Company's proper Ship,) with\nthe _Royal Fortune._\nI cannot but take Notice of two among the Crowd, of those disfigured from\nthe Blast of Powder just before mentioned, _viz. William Main_ and _Roger\nBall._ An Officer of the Ship seeing a Silver Call hang at the Wast of the\nformer, said to him, _I presume you are Boatswain of this Ship. Then you\npresume wrong_, answered he, _for I am Boatswain of the_ Royal Fortune,\n_Captain_ Roberts _Commander. Then Mr._ Boatswain _you will be hanged I\nbelieve_, replies the Officer. _That is as your Honour pleases_, answered\nhe again, and was for turning away: But the Officer desired to know of him,\nhow the Powder, which had made them in that Condition, came to take\nFire.--_By G_-- says he, _they are all mad and bewitch'd, for I have lost a\ngood Hat by it._ (the Hat and he being both blown out of the Cabin Gallery,\ninto the Sea.) _But what signifies a Hat Friend_, says the Officer.-_Not\nmuch_ answer'd he, the Men being busy in stripping him of his Shoes and\nStockings.--The Officer then enquired of him, whether _Roberts_'s Company\nwere as likely Fellows as these.-- _There are_ 120 _of them_, (answered he)\n_as clever Fellows as ever trod Shoe Leather: Would I were with them!--No\ndoubt on't_, says the Officer.--_By G-- it is naked Truth_, answered he,\nlooking down and seeing himself, by this Time, quite striped.\nThe Officer then approached _Roger Ball_, who was seated in a private\nCorner, with a Look as sullen as Winter, and asked him, how he came blown\nup in that frightful Manner.--_Why_, says he, John Morris _fired a Pistol\ninto the Powder, and if he had not done it, I would_, (bearing his Pain\nwithout the least Complaint.) The Officer gave him to understand he was\nSurgeon, and if he desired it, he would dress him; but he swore it should\nnot be done, and that if any Thing was applied to him, he would tear it\noff.--Nevertheless the Surgeon had good Nature enough to dress him, tho'\nwith much trouble: At Night he was in a kind of _Delirium_, and raved on\nthe Bravery of _Roberts_, saying, he should shortly be released, as soon as\nthey should meet him, which procured him a lashing down upon the\nForecastle, which he resisting with all his Force, caused him to be used\nwith the more Violence, so that he was tied down with so much Severity,\nthat his Flesh being sore and tender with the blowing up, he died next Day\nof a Mortification.\nThey secured the Prisoners with Pinions, and Shackles, but the Ship was so\nmuch disabled in the Engagement, that they had once Thoughts to set her on\nFire; but this would have given them the Trouble of taking the Pyrates\nwounded Men on Board themselves, and that they were certain the _Royal\nFortune_ would wait for their Consort's Return, they lay by her two Days,\nrepaired her Rigging and other Damages, and sent her into _Princes_, with\nthe _French_ Men, and four of their own Hands.\nOn the 9th in the Evening, the _Swallow_ gained the Cape again, and saw the\n_Royal Fortune_ standing into the Bay with the _Neptune_, Captain _Hill_,\nof _London_: A good Presage of the next Day's Success, for they did not\ndoubt but the Temptation of Liquor, and Plunder, they might find in this\ntheir new Prize, would make the Pyrates very confused; and so it happened.\nOn the 10th, in the Morning, the Man of War bore away to round the Cape.\n_Roberts_'s Crew discerning their Masts over the Land, went down into the\nCabin, to acquaint him of it, he being then at Breakfast with his new\nGuest, Captain _Hill_, on a savory Dish of Solomongundy, and some of his\nown Beer. He took no Notice of it, and his Men almost as little, some\nsaying she was a _Portuguese_ Ship, others a _French_ Slave Ship, but the\nmajor Part swore it was the _French Ranger_ returning, and were merrily\ndebating for some Time, on the Manner of Reception, whether they should\nsalute, or not; but as the _Swallow_ approached nigher, Things appeared\nplainer, and though they were stigmatiz'd with the Name of Cowards, who\nshewed any Apprehension of Danger, yet some of them, now undeceived,\ndeclared it to _Roberts_, especially one _Armstrong_, who had deserted from\nthat Ship, and knew her well: Those _Roberts_ swore at as Cowards, who\nmeant to dishearten the Men, asking them if it were so, whether they were\nafraid to fight, or no? And hardly refrained from Blows. What his own\nApprehensions were, till she hawled up her Ports, and hoisted their proper\nColours, is uncertain; but then being perfectly convinced, he slipped his\nCable, got under Sail, and ordered his Men to Arms, without any shew of\nTimidity, dropping a first Rate Oath, _that it was a Bite_, but, at the\nsame Time, resolved, like a gallant Rogue, to get clear, or die.\nThere was one _Armstrong_, as I just mention'd, a Deserter from the\n_Swallow_, whom they enquired of concerning the Trim and Sailing of that\nShip; he told them she sail'd best upon a Wind, and therefore, if they\ndesigned to leave her, they should go before it.\nThe Danger was imminent, and Time very short, to consult of Means to\nextricate himself; his Resolution in this Streight, was as follows: To pass\nclose to the _Swallow_, with all their Sails, and receive her Broadside,\nbefore they returned a Shot; if disabled by this, or that they could not\ndepend on sailing, then to run on Shore at the Point, (which is steep to)\nand every one to shift for himself among the Negroes; or failing in these,\nto board, and blow up together, for he saw that the greatest Part of his\nMen were drunk, passively Couragious, unfit for Service.\n_Roberts_ himself made a gallant Figure, at the Time of the Engagement,\nbeing dressed in a rich crimson Damask Wastcoat and Breeches, a red Feather\nin his Hat, a Gold Chain round his Neck, with a Diamond Cross hanging to\nit, a Sword in his Hand, and two Pair of Pistols hanging at the End of a\nSilk Sling, flung over his Shoulders (according to the Fashion of the\nPyrates;) and is said to have given his Orders with Boldness, and Spirit;\ncoming, according to what he had purposed, close to the Man of War,\nreceived her Fire, and then hoisted his Black Flag, and returned it,\nshooting away from her, with all the Sail he could pack; and had he took\n_Armstrong_'s Advice, to have gone before the Wind, he had probably\nescaped; but keeping his Tacks down, either by the Winds shifting, or ill\nSteerage, or both, he was taken a-back with his Sails, and the _Swallow_\ncame a second Time very nigh to him: He had now perhaps finished the Fight\nvery desperately, if Death, who took a swift Passage in a Grape-Shot, had\nnot interposed, and struck him directly on the Throat. He settled himself\non the Tackles of a Gun, which one _Stephenson_, from the Helm, observing,\nran to his Assistance, and not perceiving him wounded, swore at him, and\nbid him stand up, and fight like a Man; but when he found his Mistake, and\nthat his Captain was certainly dead, he gushed into Tears, and wished the\nnext Shot might be his Lot. They presently threw him over-board, with his\nArms and Ornaments on, according to the repeated Request he made in his\nLife-time.\n_Roberts_ was a tall black Man, near forty Years of Age, born at\n_Newey-bagh_, nigh _Haverford-West_, in _Pembrokshire_, of good natural\nParts, and personal Bravery, tho' he applied them to such wicked Purposes,\nas made them of no Commendation, frequently drinking _D--n to him who ever\nlived to wear a Halter._ He was forc'd himself at first among this Company\nout of the _Prince_, Captain _Plumb_ at _Anamaboe_, about three Years\nbefore, where he served as second Mate, and shed, as he us'd to tell the\n_fresh Men_, as many Crocodile Tears then as they did now, but Time and\ngood Company had wore it off. He could not plead Want of Employment, nor\nIncapacity of getting his Bread in an honest way, to favour so vile a\nChange, nor was he so much a Coward as to pretend it; but frankly own'd, it\nwas to get rid of the disagreeable Superiority of some Masters he was\nacquainted with, and the Love of Novelty and Change, Maritime\nPeregrinations had accustom'd him to. _In an honest Service_, says he,\n_there is thin Commons, low Wages, and hard Labour; in this, Plenty and\nSatiety, Pleasure and Ease, Liberty and Power; and who would not ballance\nCreditor on this Side, when all the Hazard that is run for it, at worst, is\nonly a sour Look or two at choaking. No_, A merry Life and a short one,\n_shall be my Motto._ Thus he preach'd himself into an Approbation of what\nhe at first abhorr'd; and being daily regal'd with Musick, Drinking, and\nthe Gaiety and Diversions of his Companions, these deprav'd Propensities\nwere quickly edg'd and strengthen'd, to the extinguishing of Fear and\nConscience. Yet among all the vile and ignominious Acts he had perpetrated,\nhe is said to have had an Aversion towards forcing Men into that Service,\nand had procured some their Discharge, notwithstanding so many made it\ntheir Plea.\nWhen _Roberts_ was gone, as tho' he had been the Life and Soul of the Gang,\ntheir Spirits sunk; many deserted their Quarters, and all stupidly\nneglected any Means for Defence, or Escape; and their Main-mast soon after\nbeing shot by the Board, they had no Way left, but to surrender and call\nfor Quarters. The _Swallow_ kept aloof, while her Boat passed, and repassed\nfor the Prisoners; because they understood they were under an Oath to blow\nup; and some of the Desperadoes shewed a Willingness that Way, Matches\nbeing lighted, and Scuffles happening between those who would, and those\nwho opposed it: But I cannot easily account for this Humour, which can be\nterm'd no more than a false Courage, since any of them had Power to destroy\nhis own Life, either by Pistol, or Drowning, without involving others in\nthe same Fate, who are in no Temper of Mind for it: And at best, it had\nbeen only dying, for fear of Death.\nShe had 40 Guns, and 157 Men, 45 whereof were Negroes; three only were\nkilled in the Action, without any Loss to the _Swallow._ There was found\nupwards of 2000 _l._ in Gold-Dust in her. The Flag could not be got easily\nfrom under the fallen Mast, and was therefore recover'd by the _Swallow_;\nit had the Figure of a Skeleton in it, and a Man pourtray'd with a flaming\nSword in his Hand, intimating a Defyance of Death it self.\nThe _Swallow_ returned back into Cape _Lopez_ Bay, and found the little\n_Ranger_, whom the Pyrates had deserted in hast, for the better Defence of\nthe Ship: She had been plunder'd, according to what I could learn, of 2000\nl. in Gold-Dust, (the Shares of those Pyrates who belonged to her;) and\nCaptain _Hill_, in the _Neptune_, not unjustly suspected, for he would not\nwait the Man of War's returning into the Bay again, but sail'd away\nimmediately, making no Scruple afterwards to own the Seizure of other Goods\nout of her, and surrender'd, as a Confirmation of all, 50 Ounces at\n_Barbadoes_, for which, see the Article at the End of this Book.\n_All Persons who after the_ 29_th of_ Septem. 1690, &c.\nTo sum up the whole, if it be considered, first, that the sickly State of\nthe Men of War, when they sail'd from _Princes_, was the Misfortune that\nhindered their being as far as _Sierraleon_, and consequently out of the\nTrack the Pyrates then took. That those Pyrates, directly contrary to their\nDesign, in the second Expedition, should get above Cape _Corso_, and that\nnigh _Axim_, a Chace should offer, that inevitably must discover them, and\nbe soon communicated to the Men of War. That the satiating their evil and\nmalicious Tempers at _Whydah_, in burning the _Porcupine_, and running off\nwith the _French_ Ship, had strengthened the _Swallow_ with 30 Men. That\nthe _Swallow_ should miss them in that Road, where probably she had not, or\nat least so effectually obtained her End. That they should be so far\ninfatuated at Cape _Lopez_, as to divide their Strength, which when\ncollected, might have been so formidable. And lastly, that the Conquest\nshould be without Bloodshed: I say, considering all these Circumstances, it\nshews that the Hand of Providence was concerned in their Destruction. As to\ntheir Behaviour after they were taken, it was found that they had great\nInclinations to rebel, if they could have laid hold of any Opportunity. For\nthey were very uneasy under Restraint, having been lately all Commanders\nthemselves; nor could they brook their Diet, or Quarters, without cursing\nand swearing, and upbraiding each other, with the Folly that had brought\nthem to it.\nSo that to secure themselves against any mad desperate Undertaking of\ntheirs, they strongly barricado'd the Gun-Room, and made another Prison\nbefore it; an Officer, with Pistols and Cutlashes, doing Duty, Night and\nDay, and the Prisoners within, manacled and shackled.\nThey would yet in these Circumstances be impudently merry, saying, when\nthey viewed their Nakedness, _that they had not left them a halfpenny, to\ngive old_ Charon, _to ferry them over_ Stix: And at their thin Commons,\nthey would observe, that they fell away so fast, that they should not have\nWeight left to hang them. _Sutton_ used to be very prophane; he happening\nto be in the same Irons with another Prisoner, who was more serious than\nordinary, and read and pray'd often, as became his Condition; this Man\n_Sutton_ used to swear at, and ask him, _what he proposed by so much Noise\nand Devotion? Heaven_, says the other, _I hope. Heaven, you Fool_, says\n_Sutton, did you ever hear of any Pyrates going thither? Give me H--ll,\nit's a merrier Place; I'll give_ Roberts _a Salute of_ 13 _Guns at\nEntrance._ And when he found such ludicrous Expressions had no Effect on\nhim, he made a formal Complaint, and requested that the Officer would\neither remove this Man, or take his Prayer-Book away, as a common\nDisturber.\nA Combination and Conspiracy was formed, betwixt _Moody, Ashplant, Magnes,\nMare_, and others, to rise, and kill the Officers, and run away with the\nShip. This they had carried on by Means of a Mulatto Boy, who was allow'd\nto attend them, and proved very trusty in his Messages, between the\nPrincipals; but the Evening of that Night they were to have made this\nStruggle, two of the Prisoners that sat next to _Ashplant_, heard the Boy\nwhisper them upon the Project, and naming to him the Hour they should be\nready, presently gave Notice of it to the Captain, which put the Ship in an\nAlarm, for a little Time; and, on Examination, several of them had made\nshift to break off, or lose, their Shackles, (no doubt for such Purpose;)\nbut it tended only to procure to themselves worse Usage and Confinement.\nIn the same Passage to Cape _Corso_, the Prize, _Royal Fortune_, was in the\nsame Danger. She was left at the Island of St. _Thomas_'s, in the\nPossession of an Officer, and a few Men, to take in some fresh Provisions,\n(which were scarce at Cape _Corso_) with Orders to follow the Ship. There\nwere only some of the Pyrates Negroes, three or four wounded Prisoners, and\n_Scudamore_, their Surgeon; from whom they seemed to be under no\nApprehension, especially from the last, who might have hoped for Favour, on\nAccount of his Employ; and had stood so much indebted for his Liberty,\neating and drinking constantly with the Officer; yet this Fellow,\nregardless of the Favour, and lost to all Sense of Reformation, endeavoured\nto bring over the Negroes to his Design of murdering the People, and\nrunning away with the Ship. He easily prevailed with the Negroes to come\ninto the Design; but when he came to communicate it to his Fellow\nPrisoners, and would have drawn them into the same Measures, by telling\nthem, he understood Navigation, that the Negroes were stout Fellows, and by\na Smattering he had in the _Angolan_ Language, he had found willing to\nundertake such an Enterprize; and that it was better venturing to do this,\nrun down the Coast, and raise a new Company, than to proceed to Cape\n_Corso_, and be hanged like a Dog, and Sun dry'd. One of them abhorring the\nCruelty, or fearing the Success, discovered it to the Officer, who made him\nimmediately a Prisoner, and brought the Ship safe.\nWhen they came to be lodg'd in Cape _Corso-Castle_, their Hopes of this\nkind all cut off, and that they were assured they must there soon receive a\nfinal Sentence; the Note was changed among most of them, and from vain\ninsolent jesting, they became serious and devout, begging for good Books,\nand joyning in publick Prayers, and singing of Psalms, twice at least every\nDay.\nAs to their Tryals, if we should give them at length, it may appear tedious\nto the Reader, for which Reason, I have, for the avoiding Tautology and\nRepetition, put as many of them together as were try'd for the same Fact,\nreserving the Circumstances which are most material, with Observations on\nthe dying Behaviour of such of them, as came to my Knowledge.\nAnd first, it may be observed from the List, that a great Part of these\nPyrate Ships Crews, were Men entered on the Coast of _Africa_, not many\nMonths before they were taken; from whence, it may be concluded, that the\npretended Constraint of _Roberts_, on them, was very often a Complotment\nbetween Parties equally willing: And this _Roberts_ several Times openly\ndeclared, particularly to the _Onslow_'s People, whom he called aft, and\nask'd of them, _who was willing to go, for he would force no Body?_ As was\ndeposed, by some of his best Hands, after Acquittal; nor is it reasonable\nto think, he should reject _Irish_ Voluntiers, only from a Pique against\n_Kennedy_, and force others, that might hazard, and, in Time, destroy his\nGovernment: But their Behaviour soon put him out of this Fear, and\nconvinc'd him, that the Plea of Force was only the best Artifice they had\nto shelter themselves under, in Case they should be taken; and that they\nwere less Rogues than others, only in Point of Time.\nIt may likewise be taken Notice of, that the Country, wherein they happened\nto be tried, is among other Happinesses, exempted from Lawyers, and\nLaw-Books, so that the Office of Register, of necessity fell on one, not\nversed in those Affairs, which might justify the Court in want of Form,\nmore essentially supply'd with Integrity and Impartiality.\nBut, perhaps, if there was less Law, there might be more Justice, than in\nsome other Courts; for, if the civil Law be a Law of universal Reason,\njudging of the Rectitude, or Obliquity of Mens Actions, every Man of common\nSense is endued with a Portion of it, at least sufficient to make him\ndistinguish Right from Wrong, or what the Civilians call, _Malum in se._\nTherefore, here, if two Persons were equally Guilty of the same Fact, there\nwas no convicting one, and bringing the other off, by any Quirk, or turn of\nLaw; for they form'd their Judgments upon the Constraint, or Willingness,\nthe Aim, and Intention of the Parties, and all other Circumstances, which\nmake a material Difference. Besides, in Crimes of this Nature, Men bred up\nto the Sea, must be more knowing, and much abler, than others more learned\nin the Law; for, before a Man can have a right Idea of a Thing, he must\nknow the Terms standing for that Thing: The Sea-Terms being a Language by\nit self, which no Lawyer can be supposed to understand, he must of\nConsequence want that discriminating Faculty, which should direct him to\njudge right of the Facts meant by those Terms.\nThe Court well knew, it was not possible to get the Evidence of every\nSufferer by this Crew, and therefore, first of all, considered how that\nDeficiency should be supplied; whether, or no, they could pardon one _Jo.\nDennis_, who had early offered himself, as King's Evidence, and was the\nbest read in their Lives and Conversations: Here indeed, they were at a\nLoss for Law, and concluded in the Negative, because it look'd like\ncompounding with a Man to swear falsly, losing by it, those great Helps he\ncould have afforded.\nAnother great Difficulty in their Proceedings, was, how to understand those\nWords in the Act of Parliament, of, _particularly specifying in the Charge,\nthe Circumstances of Time, Place_, &c. _i. e._ so to understand them, as to\nbe able to hold a Court; for if they had been indicted on particular\nRobberies, the Evidence had happened mostly from the Royal _African_\nCompany's Ships, on which these Gentlemen of _Cape-Corso-Castle_, were not\nqualify'd to sit, their Oath running, _That they have no Interest directly,\nor indirectly, in the Ship, or Goods, for the Robbery of which, the Party\nstands accused_: And this they thought they had, Commissions being paid\nthem, on such Goods: And on the other Side, if they were incapacitated, no\nCourt could be formed, the Commission absolutely requiring three of them by\nName.\nTo reconcile all Things, therefore, the Court resolved, to bottom the whole\nof their Proceedings on the _Swallow's_ Depositions, which were clear and\nplain, and had the Circumstance of Time when, Place where, Manner how, and\nthe like, particularly specified according to the Statute in that Case\nmade, and provided. But this admitted only a general Intimation of Robbery\nin the Indictment, therefore _to approve their Clemency_, it looking\nArbitrary on the Lives of Men, to lump them to the Gallows, in such a\nsummary Way as must have been done, had they solely adhered to the\n_Swallow_'s Charge, they resolved to come to particular Tryals.\nSecondly, _That the Prisoners might not be ignorant whereon to answer_, and\nso have all fair Advantages, to excuse and defend themselves; the Court\nfarther agreed with Justice and Equanimity, to hear any Evidence that could\nbe brought, to weaken or corroborate the three Circumstances that compleat\na Pyrate; first, being a Voluntier amongst them at the Beginning; secondly,\nbeing a Voluntier at the taking or robbing of any Ship; or lastly,\nvoluntarily accepting a Share in the Booty of those that did; for by a\nParity of Reason, where these Actions were of their own disposing, and yet\ncommitted by them, it must be believed their Hearts and Hands joyned\ntogether, in what they acted against his Majesty's Ship the _Swallow._\n_The_ TRYALS _of the_ PYRATES,\n_Taken by his Majesty's Ship the_ Swallow, _begun at Cape_\nCorso-Castle, _on the Coast of_ Africa, March _the_ 28_th_, 1722.\nTHE Commission impowered any three named therein, to call to their\nAssistance, such a Number of qualified Persons as might make the Court\nalways consist of seven: And accordingly Summons were signed to Lieut. _Jo.\nBarnsley_, Lieut. _Ch. Fanshaw_, Capt. _Samuel Hartsease_, and Capt.\n_William Menzies, viz._\n   BY Virtue of a Power and Authority, to us given, by a\n   Commission from the King, under the Seal of Admiralty,\n   You are hereby required to attend, and make one of the\n   Court, for the trying and adjudging of the Pyrates,\n   lately taken on this Coast, by his Majesty's Ship the\n   _Swallow._\nGiven under our Hands this 28th of _March_, 1722, at Cape\n_Carso-Castle._\n_Mungo Heardman_, _James Phips_, _Henry Dodson_, _Francis Boy_,\n_Edward Hide._\nThe Commissioners being met in the Hall of the Castle, the Commission was\nfirst read, after which, the President, and then the other Members, took\nthe Oath, prescribed in the Act of Parliament, and having directed the Form\nof that for Witnesses, as follows, the Court was opened.\nI, A. B. _solemnly promise and swear on the Holy Evangelists, to bear\ntrue and faithful Witness between the King and Prisoner, or Prisoners, in\nRelation to the Fact, or Facts, of Pyracy and Robbery, he or they do now\nstand accused of._ So help me God.\nThe Court consisted of Captain _Mungo Heardman_, President. James Phips,\n_Esq; General of the Coast_, _Mr._ H. Dodson, _Mer._ _Mr._ F. Boye, _Mer._\n_Mr._ Edward Hyde, _Secretary to the Company._ _Lieut._ John Barnsley,\n_Lieut._ Ch. Fanshaw.\nThe following Prisoners, out of the Pyrate Ship _Ranger_, having been\ncommanded before them, the Charge, or Indictment, was exhibited.\nPrisoners taken in the _Ranger_.\nMens Names.           Ships from                    Time when.\n* James Skyrm         Greyhound Sloop               Oct. 1720\n* Rich. Hardy         Pyrate with Davis             1718\n* Wm. Main            Brigantine Capt. Peet         June 1720\n* Val. Ashplant     } Pyrates with Capt. Davis      1719\n* Rich. Harris      } Phoenix of Bristol, Capt.   }\n* Thomas How          at Newfoundland             }\n+ Her. Hunkins        Success Sloop\n* Hugh Harris         Willing Mind                }\nThomas Wills          Richard of Biddiford        } July 1720\n+ John Wilden         Mary and Martha             }\n* Ja. Greenham        Little York, Phillips Mr.   }\n* John Jaynson        Love of Lancaster           }\n+ Chri. Lang          Thomas Brigantine             Sept. 1720\n* John Mitchel      } Norman Galley                 Oct. 1720\nT. Withstandenot    }\nPeter la Fever      } Jeremiah and Ann              Ap. 1720\n* Wm. Wats          } Sierraleon }of Mr. Glin     } July 1721\n+ James Barrow      } Martha Snow Capt Lady\n* Joshua Lee        }\nRob. Hartley (1)    } Robinson of Leverpole Capt.   Aug. 1721\n+ James Crane       }    Kanning\n+ Rob. Fletcher     } Stanwich Galley Captain     } Aug. 1721\n+ Andrew Rance        A Dutch Ship                }\n* Tho. Giles        } Mercy Galley of Bristol     } Oct. 1721\n* Israel Hynde      }    at Callibar              }\nWilliam Church        Gertruycht of Holland       }\nPhilip Haak           Flushingham of ditto        }\nWilliam Smith       } Elizabeth Capt. Sharp       }\n* Peter de Vine     } King Solomon Capt. Trehern  }\nJohn Johnson        }    off Cape Appollonia      }\nHenry Dawson        } Whydah Sloop at Jaquin      }\n+ Henry Graves      } Tarlton Capt. Tho. Tarlton, }\nWm. Guineys           Porcupine Capt. Fletcher    }\nTho. Stretton       }\n* William Petty     }\nMic. Lemmon         } Onslow Capt. Gee at Cestos    Jan. 172\u00bd\nPierre Ravon          Peter Grossey               }\nJohn Dugan            Rence Frogier               }\nJames Ardeon          Lewis Arnaut                } From the\nEttrien Gilliot       Rence Thoby                 } French Ship\nRen. Marraud          Meth Roulac                 } in Whydah\nJohn Gittin           John Gumar                  } Road Feb.\nJohn Lavogue          Allan Pigan                 }\nJohn Duplaissey       Pierce Shillot              }\nYou, _James Skyrm, Michael Lemmon, Robert Hartley_, &c.\nY_E, and every one of you, are in the Name, and by the Authority, of\nour dread Sovereign Lord_, George, _King of_ Great Britain, _indicted as\nfollows_;\n_Forasmuch as in open Contempt of the Laws of your Country, ye have all of\nyou been wickedly united, and articled together, for the Annoyance and\nDisturbance of his Majesty's trading Subjects by Sea. And have in\nConformity to the most evil and mischievous Intentions, been twice down the\nCoast of_ Africa, _with two Ships; once in the Beginning of_ August, _and a\nsecond Time, in_ January _last, sinking, burning, or robbing such Ships,\nand Vessels, as then happened in your Way._\n_Particularly, ye stand charged at the Instance, and Information of\nCaptain_ Chaloner Ogle, _as Traytors and Pyrates, for the unlawful\nOpposition ye made to his Majesty's Ship, the_ Swallow, _under his\nCommand._\n_For that on the_ 5_th of_ February _last past, upon Sight of the aforesaid\nKing's Ship, ye did immediately weigh Anchor from under Cape_ Lopez, _on\nthe Southern Coast of_ Africa, _in a_ French _built Ship of_ 32 _Guns,\ncalled the_ Ranger, _and did pursue and chase the aforesaid King's Ship,\nwith such Dispatch and Precipitancy, as declared ye common Robbers and\nPyrates._\n_That about Ten of the Clock the same Morning, drawing within Gun-shot of\nhis Majesty's aforesaid Ship the_ Swallow, _ye hoisted a pyratical black\nFlag, and fired several chace Guns, to deter, as much as ye were able, his\nMajesty's Servants from their Duty._\n_That an Hour after this, being very nigh to the aforesaid King's Ship, ye\ndid audaciously continue in a hostile Defence and Assault, for about two\nHours more, in open Violation of the Laws, and in Defiance to the King's\nColours and Commission._\n_And lastly, that in the acting, and compassing of all this, ye were all,\nand every one of you, in a wicked Combination, voluntarily to exert, and\nactually did, in your several Stations, use your utmost Endeavours to\ndistress the said King's Ship, and murder his Majesty's good Subjects._\nTo which they severally pleaded, _Not Guilty._\nThen the Court called for the Officers of the _Swallow_, Mr. _Isaac Sun_,\nLieutenant, _Ralph Baldrick_, Boatswain, _Daniel Maclauglin_, Mate,\ndesiring them to view the Prisoners, whether they knew them? And to give an\nAccount in what Manner they had attack'd and fought the King's Ship; and\nthey agreed as follows.\nThat they had viewed all the Prisoners, as they stood now before the Court,\nand were assured they were the same taken out of one, or other, of the\nPyrate Ships, _Royal Fortune_, or _Ranger_; but verily believe them to be\ntaken out of the _Ranger._\nThat they did in the King's Ship, at break of Day, on _Monday_, the 5th of\n_February_, 1721-2, discover three Ships at Anchor, under Cape _Lopez_, on\nthe Southern Coast of _Africa_; the Cape bearing then W. S. W. about three\nLeagues, and perceiving one of them to have a Pendant flying, and having\nheard their Morning-Gun before, they immediately suspected them to be\n_Roberts_ the Pyrate, his consort, and a _French_ Ship, they knew had been\nlately carried out of _Whydah_ Road.\nThe King's Ship was obliged to hawl off N. W. and W. N. W. to avoid a Sand,\ncalled, the _French Man's Bank_, the Wind then at S. S. E. and found in\nhalf an Hour's time, one of the three had got under Sail from the Careen,\nand was bending her Sails, in a Chace towards them. To encourage this\nRashness and Precipitancy, they kept away before the Wind, (as though\nafraid,) but with their Tacks on Board, their Main-Yard braced, and making,\nat the same Time, very bad Steerage.\nAbout half an Hour after Ten, in the Morning, the Pyrate Ship came within\nGun-shot, and fired four Chace Guns, hoisted a black Flag at the\nMizen-Peek, and got their Sprit-sail Yard under their Bowsprit, for\nboarding. In half an Hour more, approaching still nigher, they Starboarded\ntheir Helm, and gave her a Broadside, the Pyrate bringing to, and returning\nthe same.\nAfter this, the Deponents say, their Fire grew slack for some Time, because\nthe Pyrate was shot so far a Head on the Weather-Bow, that few of their\nGuns could Point to her; yet in this Interval their black Flag was either\nShot away, or hawled down a little Space, and hoisted again.\nAt length, by their ill Steerage, and Favour of the Wind, they came near, a\nsecond Time; and about Two in the Afternoon shot away their Main-topmast.\nThe Colours they fought under, besides a black Flag, were a red _English_\nEnsign, a King's Jack, and a _Dutch_ Pendant, which they struck at, or\nabout, Three in the Afternoon, and called for Quarters; it proving to be a\n_French_ built Ship of 32 Guns, called the _Ranger._\n_Isaac Sun_, _Ralph Baldrick_, _Daniel Maclauglin._\nWhen the Evidence had been heard, the Prisoners were called upon to answer,\nhow they came on Board this Pyrate Ship; and their Reason for so audacious\na Resistance, as had been made against the King's Ship.\nTo this, each, in his Reply, owned himself to be one of those taken out of\nthe _Ranger_; that he had signed their pyratical Articles, and shared in\ntheir Plunder, some few only accepted, who had been there too short a Time.\nBut that neither in this signing, or sharing, nor in the Resistance had\nbeen made against his Majesty's Ship, had they been Voluntiers, but had\nacted in these several Parts, from a Terror of Death; which a Law amongst\nthem, was to be the Portion of those who refused. The Court then ask'd, who\nmade those Laws? How those Guns came to be fired? Or why they had not\ndeserted their Stations, and mutinied, when so fair a Prospect of\nRedemption offered? They replied still, with the same Answers, and could\nextenuate their Crimes, with no other Plea, than being forced Men.\nWherefore the Court were of Opinion, that the Indictment, as it charged\nthem with an unlawful Attack and Resistance of the King's Ship, was\nsufficiently proved; but then it being undeniably evident, that many of\nthese Prisoners had been forced, and some of them of very short standing,\nthey did, on mature Deliberation, come to this merciful Resolution;\nThat they would hear further Evidence for, or against, each Person singly,\nin Relation to those Parts of the Indictment, which declared them\nVoluntiers, or charged them with aiding and assisting, at the burning,\nsinking, or robbing of other Ships; for if they acted, or assisted, in any\nRobberies or Devastations, it would be a Conviction they were Voluntiers;\nhere such Evidence, though it might want the Form, still carried the Reason\nof the Law with it.\nThe Charge was exhibited also against the following Pyrates taken\nout of the _Royal Fortune._\n* Mich. Mare          in the Rover                 5 Years ago\n* James Philips       the RevengePyrate Sloop      1717.\n* David Symson      } Pyrates with Davis\n* Tho. Sutton       }\n* Wm. Fernon        } Sadbury Captain Thomas     } June 1720.\n* W. Willams 2      }    Thomas Newfoundland     }\n* Tho. Owen         } York of Bristol            }\n* Joseph Nositer      Expedition of Topsham      }\n* John Parker         Willing Mind of Pool       }\n* Robert Crow         Happy Return Sloop         }\n* George Smith        Mary and Martha            } July 1720.\n* Ja. Clements        Success Sloop              }\n* John Walden         Blessing of Lymington      }\n* Jo. Mansfield       from Martinico\n+ James Harris        Richard Pink\n* John Philips        a fishing Boat\nHarry Glasby        } Samuel Capt. Cary.         } July 1720.\n* Wm. Magnus\n* Joseph Moor         May Flower Sloop             Feb. 1720.\nWm. Champnies       } Loyd Gally Capt. Hyngston  } May 1721.\n* Robert Johnson    } Jeremiah and Ann, Capt.    } Ap. 1721.\nThomas Diggles        Christopher Snow           }\n* Ben. Jeffreys       Norman Galley              }\nJohn Francia          a Sloop at St. Nicholas    }\n* John Coleman        Adventure Sloop            }\n* Charles Bunce       a Dutch Galley             }\n* R. Armstrong        ditto run from the Swallow }\n* Abra. Harper      }\n* Peter Lesley      }\n* John Jessup 1     }\nThomas Watkins      }\n* Philip Bill       } Onslow Capt. Gee at Sestos,  May 1721.\n* Jo. Stephenson    }\n* James Cromby      }\nThomas Garrat       }\n+ George Ogle       }\nRoger Gorsuch       } Martha Snow                  Au. 1721.\nJohn Watson         }\nWilliam Child       }\n* John Griffin      } Mercy Gally at Callabar      Oct. 1721.\n* Pet. Scudamore    }\nChrist. Granger     }\nNicho. Brattle      }\nJames White         }\nTho. Davis          } Cornwall Galley at           ditto.\nTho. Sever          }    Callabar\n* Rob. Bevins       }\n* T. Oughterlaney   }\n* David Rice        }\n* Rob. Haws  Joceline Capt. Loane  Oct. 1721.\nHugh Riddle         } Diligence Boat               Ja. 1721.\nStephen Thomas      }\n* Sam. Fletcher     }\n* Wm. Philips       } King Solomon                 ditto.\nJacob Johnson       }\nBenjamin Par          Robinson Capt. Kanning       ditto.\nWilliam May         } Elizabeth Capt. Sharp      }\n* George Wilson     } Tarlton of Leverpool at    } ditto.\nEdward Tarlton      }    Cape la Hou             }\nThomas Roberts      }\nJohn Richards       } Charlton Capt. Allwright   } Feb. 1721.\nWm. Davison         } Porcupine Capt. Fletcher   } Feb. 1721.\nSam. Morwell        }    Whydah Road             }\n* John Jessup 2       surrender'd up at Princes\nYou, _Harry Glasby, William Davison, William Champnies, Samuel\nMorwell_, &c.\nY_E, and every one of you, are, in the Name, and by the Authority of\nour most dread Sovereign Lord_ George, _King of_ Great Britain, _indicted\nas follows._\n_Forasmuch as in open Contempt and Violation of the Laws of your Country,\nto which ye ought to have been subject_, _ye have all of you been wickedly\nunited and articled together, for the Annoyance and Destruction of his\nMajesty's trading Subjects by Sea; and in Conformity to so wicked an\nAgreement and Association, ye have been twice lately down this Coast of_\nAfrica, _once in_ August, _and a second Time in_ January _last, spoiling\nand destroying many Goods and Vessels of his Majesty's Subjects, and other\ntrading Nations._\n_Particularly ye stand indicted at the Information and Instance of Captain_\nChaloner Ogle, _as Traytors, Robbers, Pyrates, and common Enemies to\nMankind._\n_For that on the_ 10_th of_ February _last, in a Ship ye were possess'd of\ncalled the_ Royal Fortune, _of_ 40 _Guns, ye did maintain a hostile Defence\nand Resistance for some Hours, against his Majesty's Ship the_ Swallow,\n_nigh Cape_ Lopez _Bay, on the Southern Coast of_ Africa.\n_That this Fight and insolent Resistance against the King's Ship, was made,\nnot only without any Pretence of Authority, more than that of your own\nprivate depraved Wills, but was done also under a black Flag, flagrantly by\nthat, denoting your selves common Robbers and Traitors, Opposers and\nViolators of the Laws._\n_And lastly, that in this Resistance, ye were all of you Voluntiers, and\ndid, as such, contribute your utmost Efforts, for disabling and distressing\nthe aforesaid King's Ship, and deterring his Majesty's Servants therein,\nfrom their Duty._\nTo which they severally pleaded, _Not Guilty._\nWhereupon the Officers of his Majesty's Ship, the _Swallow_, were called\nagain, and testified as follows.\nThat they had seen all the Prisoners now before the Court, and knew them to\nbe the same which were taken out of one or other of the Pyrate Ships,\n_Royal Fortune_ or _Ranger_, and verily believe them to be those taken out\nof the _Royal Fortune._\nThat the Prisoners were possess'd of a Ship of 40 Guns, called the _Royal\nFortune_, and were at an Anchor under Cape _Lopez_, on the Coast of\n_Africa_, with two others: When his Majesty's Ship the _Swallow_, (to which\nthe Deponents belong'd, and were Officers,) stood in for the Place, on\n_Saturday_ the 10th of _February_ 1721-2: The largest had a Jack, Ensign\nand Pendant flying, (being this _Royal Fortune_,) who on Sight of them, had\ntheir Boats passing and repassing, from the other two, which they supposed\nto be with Men: The Wind not favouring the aforesaid King's Ship, she was\nobliged to make two Trips to gain nigh enough the Wind, to fetch in with\nthe Pyrates; and being at length little more than random Shot from them,\nthey found she slipped her Cable, and got under Sail.\nAt Eleven, the Pyrate was within Pistol-Shot, a Breast of them, with a\nblack Flag, and Pendant hoisted at their Main-topmast Head. The Deponents\nsay, they then struck the _French_ Ensign that had continued hoisted at\ntheir Staff all the Morning till then; and display'd the King's Colours,\ngiving her, at the same Time, their Broadside, which was immediately\nreturned.\nThe Pyrate's Mizen-topmast fell, and some of her Rigging was torn, yet she\nstill out sailed the Man of War, and slid half Gun-Shot from them, while\nthey continued to fire without Intermission, and the other to return such\nGuns as could be brought to bear, till by favour of the Winds, they were\nadvanced very nigh again; and after exchanging a few more Shot, about half\nan Hour past one, his Main-Mast came down, having received a Shot a little\nbelow the Parrel.\nAt Two she struck her Colours, and called for Quarters, proving to be a\nShip, formerly call'd the _Onslow_, but by them, the _Royal Fortune_; and\nthe Prisoners from her, assured them, that the smallest Ship of the two,\nthen remaining in the Road, belong'd to them, by the Name of the _Little\nRanger_, which they had deserted on this Occasion.\n_Isaac Sun_, _Ralph Baldrick_, _Daniel Maclaughlin._\nThe Prisoners were asked by the Court, to the same Purpose the others had\nbeen in the Morning; what Exception they had to make against what had been\nsworn? And what they had to say in their Defence? And their Reply were much\nthe same with the other Prisoners; that they were forc'd Men, had not fired\na Gun in this Resistance against the _Swallow_, and that what little\nAssistance they did give on this Occasion, was to the Sails and Rigging, to\ncomply with the arbitrary Commands of _Roberts_, who had threaten'd, and\nthey were perswaded would, have Shot them on Refusal.\nThe Court, to dispense equal Justice, mercifully resolved for these, as\nthey had done for the other Pyrate Crew; that further Evidence should be\nheard against each Man singly, to the two Points, of being a Voluntier at\nfirst, and to their particular Acts of Pyracy and Robbery since: That so\nMen, who had been lately received amongst them, and as yet, had not been at\nthe taking, or plundering, of any Ship, might have the Opportunity, and\nBenefit, of clearing their Innocence, and not fall promiscuously with the\nGuilty.\n_By Order of the Court_, John Atkins, _Register._\n_Wm. Magnes, Tho. Oughterlauney, Wm. Main, Wm. Mackintosh, Val. Ashplant,\nJohn Walden, Israel Hind, Marcus Johnson, Wm. Petty, Wm. Fernon, Abraham\nHarper, Wm. Wood, Tho. How, John Stephenson, Ch. Bunce_, and _John Griffin_\nAgainst these it was deposed by Captain _Joseph Trahern_, and _George\nFenn_, his Mate, that they were all of them, either at the attacking and\ntaking of the Ship King _Solomon_, or afterwards at the robbing and\nplundering of her, and in this Manner; That on the 6th of _January_ last\ntheir Ship riding at Anchor near Cape _Appollonia_ in _Africa_, discovered\na Boat rowing towards them, against Wind and Stream, from a Ship that lay\nabout three Miles to Leeward. They judged from the Number of Men in her, as\nshe nearer advanced, to be a Pyrate, and made some Preparation for\nreceiving her, believing, on a nigher View, they would think fit to\nwithdraw from an Attack that must be on their Side with great Disadvantage\nin an open Boat, and against double the Number of Men; yet by the Rashness,\nand the Pusillanimity of his own People (who laid down their Arms, and\nimmediately called for Quarter) the Ship was taken, and afterwards robbed\nby them.\n_President._ Can you charge your Memory with any Particulars in the Seizure\nand Robbery?\n_Evidence._ We know that _Magnes_, Quarter-Master of the Pyrate Ship,\ncommanded the Men in this Boat that took us, and assumed the Authority of\nordering her Provisions and Stores out, which being of different Kinds, we\nsoon found, were seized and sent away under more particular Directions; for\n_Main_, as Boatswain of the Pyrate Ship, carried away two Cables, and\nseveral Coils of Rope, as what belonged to his Province, beating some of\nour own Men for not being brisk enough at working in the Robbery. _Petty_,\nas Sail-maker, saw to the Sails and Canvas; _Harper_, as Cooper to the Cask\nand Tools; _Griffin_, to the Carpenter's Stores, and _Oughterlauney_, as\nPilot, having shifted himself with a Suit of my Clothes, a new tye Wig, and\ncalled for a Bottle of Wine, ordered the Ship, very arrogantly, to be\nsteered under Commadore _Robert_'s Stern, (I suppose to know what Orders\nthere were concerning her.) So far particularly. In the general, Sir, they\nwere very outragious and emulous in Mischief.\n_President._ Mr. _Castel_, acquaint the Court of what you know in Relation\nto this Robbery of the King _Solomon_; after what Manner the Pyrate-Boat\nwas dispatch'd for this Attempt.\n_Tho. Castel._ I was a Prisoner, Sir, with the Pyrates when their Boat was\nordered upon that Service, and found, upon a Resolution of going, Word was\npassed through the Company, Who would go? And I saw all that did, did it\nvoluntarily; no Compulsion, but rather pressing who should be foremost.\nThe Prisoners yielded to what had been sworn about the Attack and Robbery,\nbut denied the latter Evidence, saying, _Roberts_ hector'd, and upbraided\nthem of Cowardice on this very Occasion; and told some, they were very\nready to step on Board of a Prize when within Command of the Ship, but now\nthere seem'd to be a Tryal of their Valour, backward and fearful.\n_President._ So that _Roberts_ forc'd ye upon this Attack.\n_Prisoners. Roberts_ commanded us into the Boat, and the Quarter-Master to\nrob the Ship; neither of whose Commands we dared to have refused.\n_President._ And granting it so, those are still your own Acts, since done\nby Orders from Officers of your own Election. Why would Men, honestly\ndisposed, give their Votes for such a Captain and such a Quarter-Master as\nwere every Day commanding them on distastful Services?\nHere succeeded a Silence among the Prisoners, but at length _Fernon_ very\nhonestly own'd, that he did not give his Vote to _Magnes_, but to _David\nSympson_ (the old Quarter-Master,) _for in Truth_, says he, _I took_ Magnes\n_for too honest a Man, and unfit for the Business._\nThe Evidence was plain and home, and the Court, without any Hesitation,\nbrought them in _Guilty._\nW_ILLIAM Church, Phil. Haak, James White, Nich. Brattle, Hugh Riddle,\nWilliam Thomas, Tho. Roberts, Jo. Richards, Jo. Cane, R. Wood, R. Scot, Wm.\nDavison, Sam. Morwell, Edward Evans, Wm. Guineys_, and 18 _French_ Men.\nThe four first of these Prisoners, it was evident to the Court, served as\nMusick on Board the Pyrate, were forced lately from the several Merchant\nShips they belonged to; and that they had, during this Confinement, an\nuneasy Life of it, having sometimes their Fiddles, and often their Heads\nbroke, only for excusing themselves, or saying they were tired, when any\nFellow took it in his Head to demand a Tune.\nThe other _English_ had been a very few Days on Board the Pyrate, only from\n_Whydah_ to Cape _Lopez_, and no Capture or Robbery done by them in that\nTime. And the _French_ Men were brought with a Design to reconduct their\nown Ship (or the _Little Ranger_ in Exchange) to _Whydah_ Road again, and\nwere used like Prisoners; neither quarter'd nor suffered to carry Arms. So\nthat the Court immediately acquiesced in, _Acquitting them._\nT_HO. Sutton, David Sympson, Christopher Moody, Phil. Bill, R. Hardy,\nHen. Dennis, David Rice, Wm. Williams, R. Harris, Geo. Smith, Ed. Watts,\nJo. Mitchell_ and _James Barrow._\nThe Evidence against these Prisoners, were _Geret de Haen_, Master of the\n_Flushingham_, taken nigh _Axim_, the Beginning of _January_ last.\n_Benj. Kreft_ Master, and _James Groet_ Mate of the _Gertruycht_, taken\nnigh _Gabone_ in _December_ last, and Mr. _Castel, Wingfield_ and others,\nthat had been Prisoners with the Pyrates.\nThe former deposed, that all these Prisoners (excepting _Hardy_) were on\nBoard at the Robbery and Plunder of their Ships, behaving in a vile\noutragious Manner, putting them in bodily Fears, sometimes for the Ship,\nand sometimes for themselves; and in particular, _Kreft_ charged it on\n_Sutton_, that he had ordered all their Gunner's Stores out; on which that\nPrisoner presently interrupted, and said, he was perjured, _That he had not\ntaken half._ A Reply, I believe, not designed as any sawcy Way of jesting,\nbut to give their Behaviour an Appearance of more Humanity than the _Dutch_\nwould allow.\nFrom Mr. _Castel, Wingfield_ and others, they were proved to be\ndistinguished Men, Men who were consulted as Chiefs in all Enterprizes;\nbelonged most of them to the House of Lords, (as they call'd it,) and could\ncarry an Authority over others. The former said, particularly of _Hardy_,\n(Quarter-Master of the _Ranger_,) that when the _Diligence_ Sloop was\ntaken, (whereto he belonged,) none was busier in the Plunder, and was the\nvery Man who scuttled and sunk that Vessel.\nFrom some of the Prisoners acquitted, it was farther demanded, whether the\nAcceptance or Refusal of any Office was not in their own Option? And it was\ndeclared, that every Officer was chose by a Majority of Votes, and might\nrefuse, if he pleased, since others gladly embraced what brought with it an\nadditional Share of Prize. _Guilty_\nThe Court on the 31st of _March_, remanded the following six before them,\nfor Sentence, _viz. Dav. Sympson, Wm. Magnes, R. Hardy, Thomas Sutton,\nChristopher Moody_, and _Valen. Ashplant._\nTo whom the President spoke to the following Purpose; _The Crime of Pyracy,\nof which all of ye have been justly convicted, is of all other Robberies\nthe most aggravating and inhumane, in that being removed from the Fears of\nSurprize, in remote and distant Parts, ye do in Wantonness of Power often\nadd Cruelty to Theft._\n_Pyrates unmoved at Distress or Poverty, not only spoil and rob, but do it\nfrom Men needy, and who are purchasing their Livlihoods thro' Hazards and\nDifficulties, which ought rather to move Compassion; and what is still\nworse, do often, by Perswasion or Force, engage the inconsiderate Part of\nthem, to their own and Families Ruin, removing them from their Wives and\nChildren, and by that, from the Means that should support them from Misery\nand Want._\n_To a trading Nation, nothing can be so Destructive as Pyracy, or call for\nmore exemplary Punishment; besides, the national Reflection it infers: It\ncuts off the Returns of Industry, and those plentiful Importations that\nalone can make an Island flourishing; and it is your Aggravation, that ye\nhave been the Chiefs and Rulers in these licentious and lawless Practices._\n_However, contrary to the Measures ye have dealt, ye have been heard with\nPatience, and tho' little has, or possibly could, have been said in Excuse\nor Extenuation of your Crimes, yet Charity makes us hope that a true and\nsincere Repentance_ (_which we heartily recommend_) _may entitle ye to\nMercy and Forgiveness, after the Sentence of the Law has taken Place, which\nnow remains upon me to pronounce._\nY_OU_ Dav. Simpson, William Magnes, R. Hardy, Tho. Sutton,\nChristopher Moody, _and_ Val. Ashplant.\n_Ye, and each of you, are adjudged and sentenced, to be carried back to the\nPlace from whence ye came, from thence to the Place of Execution, without\nthe Gates of this Castle, and there within the Flood-Marks, to be hanged by\nthe Neck till ye are dead._\n_After this, ye, and each of you shall be taken down, and your Bodies\nhanged in Chains._\nWarrant for Execution.\nP_URSUANT to the Sentence given on_ Saturday, _by the Court of\nAdmiralty, at_ Cape-Corso-Castle, _against_ Dav. Simpson, Wm. Magnes, R.\nHardy, Tho. Sutton, Christopher Moody, _and_ Valentine Ashplant.\n_You are hereby directed to carry the aforesaid Malefactors to the Place of\nExecution, without the Gates of this Castle, to Morrow Morning at Nine of\nthe Clock, and there within the Flood-Marks, cause them to be hanged by the\nNeck till they are dead, for which, this shall be your Warrant. Given under\nmy Hand, this_ 2_d Day of_ April 1722.\n_To_ Joseph Gordyn, _Provost-Marshal._\nMungo Heardman.\n_The Bodies remove in Chains, to the Gibbets already erected on the\nadjacent Hillocks._\nM. H.\n_William Phillips._\nIT appeared by the Evidence of Captain _Jo. Trahern_, and _George\nFenn_, Mate of the King _Solomon_, that this Prisoner was Boatswain of the\nsame Ship, when she was attacked and taken off Cape _Appollonia_, the 6th\nof _January_ last, by the Pyrate's Boat.\nWhen the Boat drew nigh, (they say,) it was judged from the Number of Men\nin her, that they were Pyrates, and being hailed, answered, _Defiance_; at\nwhich the Commander snatched a Musquet from one of his Men, and fired,\nasking them at the same Time, whether they would stand by him, to defend\nthe Ship? But the Pyrates returning a Volley, and crying out, they would\ngive no Quarters if any Resistance was made; this Prisoner took upon him to\ncall out for Quarters, without the Master's Consent, and mislead the rest\nto the laying down their Arms, and giving up the Ship, to half the Number\nof Men, and in an open Boat. It was further evident he became, after this,\na Voluntier amongst them. First, because he was presently very forward and\nbrisk, in robbing the Ship _King Solomon_, of her Provisions and Stores.\nSecondly, because he endeavoured to have his Captain ill used; and lastly,\nbecause he had confessed to _Fenn_, that he had been obliged to sign their\nArticles that Night, (a Pistol being laid on the Table, to signify he must\ndo it, or be shot,) when the whole appeared to be an Untruth from other\nEvidence, who also asserted his being armed in the Action against the\n_Swallow._\nIn answer to this, he first observed upon the Unhappiness of being\nfriendless in this Part of the World, which, elsewhere, by witnessing to\nthe Honesty of his former Life, would, he believed, in a great Measure,\nhave invalidated the wrong Evidence had been given of his being a Voluntier\nwith the Pyrates. He owns indeed, he made no Application to his Captain, to\nintercede for a Discharge, but excuses it with saying, he had a dislike to\nhim, and therefore was sure that such Application would have avail'd him\nnothing.\nThe Court observed the Pretences of this, and other of the Pyrates, of a\nPistol and their Articles being served up in a Dish together, or of their\nbeing misused and forced from an honest Service, was often a Complotment of\nthe Parties, to render them less suspected of those they came from, and was\nto answer the End of being put in a News-Paper or Affidavit: and the\nPyrates were so generous as not to refuse a Compliment to a Brother that\ncost them nothing, and, at the same Time, secured them the best Hands; the\nbest I call them, because such a Dependance made them act more boldly.\n_Guilty._\n_Harry Glasby_, Master.\nTHere appearing several Persons in Court, who had been taken by\n_Roberts_'s Ship, whereof the Prisoner was Master, their Evidence was\naccepted as follows.\n_Jo. Trahern_, Commander of the _King Solomon_, deposed, the Prisoner,\nindeed, to act as Master of the Pyrate Ship (while he was under Restraint\nthere) but was observed like no Master, every one obeying at Discretion, of\nwhich he had taken Notice, and complained to him, how hard a Condition it\nwas, to be a Chief among Brutes; and that he was weary of his Life, and\nsuch other Expressions, (now out of his Memory,) as shew'd in him a great\nDisinclination to that Course of Living.\n_Jo. Wingfield_, a Prisoner with them at _Calabar_, says the same, as to\nthe Quality he acted in, but that he was Civil beyond any of them, and\nverily believes, that when the Brigantine he served on Board of, as a\nFactor for the _African_ Company, was voted to be burnt, this Man was the\nInstrument of preventing it, expressing himself with a great deal of\nSorrow, for this and the like malicious Rogueries of the Company he was in;\nthat to him shewed, he had acted with Reluctancy, as one who could not\navoid what he did. He adds further, that when one _Hamilton_, a Surgeon,\nwas taken by them, and the Articles about to be imposed on him, he opposed,\nand prevented it. And that _Hunter_, another Surgeon, among them, was\ncleared at the Prisoner's Instance and Perswasion; from which last, this\nDeponent had it assured to him, that _Glasby_ had once been under Sentence\nof Death, on Board of them, with two more, for endeavouring an Escape in\nthe _West-Indies_, and that the other two were really shot for it.\n_Elizabeth Trengrove_, who was taken a Passenger in the _African_ Company's\nShip _Onslow_, strengthen'd the Evidence of the last Witness; for having\nheard a good Character of this _Glasby_, she enquired of the\nQuarter-Master, who was then on Board a robbing, whether or no she could\nsee him? And he told her, _No_; they never ventured him from the Ship, for\nhe had once endeavoured his Escape, and they had ever since continued\njealous of him.\n_Edward Crisp_, Captain _Trengrove_, and Captain _Sharp_, who had all been\ntaken in their Turns, acknowledge for themselves and others, who had\nunluckily fallen into those Pyrates Hands, that the good Usage they had met\nwith, was chiefly thro' the Prisoner's Means, who often interposed, for\nleaving sufficient Stores and Instruments on Board the Ships they had\nrobbed, alledging, they were superfluous and unnecessary there.\n_James White_, whose Business was Musick, and was on the Poop of the Pyrate\nShip in Time of Action with the _Swallow_, deposed, that during the\nEngagement, and Defence she made, he never saw the Prisoner busied about\nthe Guns, or giving Orders, either to the loading or firing of them; but\nthat he wholly attended to the setting, or trimming, of the Sails, as\n_Roberts_ commanded; and that in the Conclusion, he verily believed him to\nbe the Man who prevented the Ship's being blown up, by setting trusty\nCentinels below, and opposing himself against such hot-headed Fellows as\nhad procured lighted Matches, and were going down for that Purpose.\n_Isaac Sun_, Lieutenant of the Man of War, deposed, that when he came to\ntake Possession of the Prize, in the King's Boat, he found the Pyrates in a\nvery distracted and divided Condition; some being for blowing up, and\nothers (who perhaps supposed themselves least culpable) opposing it: That\nin this Confusion he enquired for the Prisoner, of whom he had before heard\na good Character; and thinks he rendered all the Service in his Power, for\npreventing it; in particular, he understood by all Hands, that he had\nseized, and taken, from one _James Philips_, a lighted Match, at the\nInstant he was going down to the Magazine, swearing, that he should send\nthem all to H--l together. He had heard also, that after _Roberts_ was\nkilled, the Prisoner ordered the Colours to be struck; and had since shown,\nhow opposite his Practice and Principles had been, by discovering who were\nthe greatest Rogues among them.\nThe Prisoner, in his own Defence, says, when he had the Misfortune of\nfalling into the Pyrates Hands, he was chief Mate of the _Samuel_, of\n_London_, Captain _Cary_; and when he had hid himself, to prevent the\nDesign of carrying him away, they found him, and beat and threw him\nover-board. Seven Days afterwards, upon his objecting against, and refusing\nto sign their Articles, he was cut and abus'd again: That tho' after this\nhe ingratiated himself, by a more humble Carriage, it was only to make Life\neasy; the Shares they had given him, having been from Time to Time returned\nagain to such Prisoners as fell in his Way; till of late, indeed, he had\nmade a small Reservation, and had desired Captain _Loan_ to take two or\nthree Moidores from him, to carry to his Wife. He was once taken, he says,\nat making his Escape, in the _West-Indies_, and, with two more, sentenced\nto be shot for it, by a drunken Jury; the latter actually suffered, and he\nwas preserved only by one of the chief Pyrates taking a sudden Liking to\nhim, and bullying the others. A second time he ran away at _Hispaniola_,\ncarrying a Pocket Compass, for conducting him through the Woods; but that\nbeing a most desolate and wild Part of the Island he fell upon, and he\nignorant how to direct his Course, was obliged, after two or three Days\nwandering, to return towards the Ship again, denying with egregious Oaths,\nthe Design he was charg'd with, for Fear they should shoot him. From this\nTime he hopes it will be some Extenuation of his Fault, that most of the\nacquitted Prisoners can witness, they entertained Jealousies of him, and\n_Roberts_ would not admit him into his Secrets; and withal, that Captain\n_Cary_, (and four other Passengers with him) had made Affidavit of his\nhaving been forced from his Employ, which tho' he could not produce, yet he\nhumbly hoped the Court would think highly probable from the Circumstances\noffered.\nOn the whole, the Court was of Opinion Artists had the best Pretension to\nthe Plea of Force, from the Necessity Pyrates are sometimes under of\nengaging such, and that many Parts of his own Defence had been confirmed by\nthe Evidence, who had asserted he acted with Reluctance, and had expressed\na Concern and Trouble for the little Hopes remained to him, of extricating\nhimself. That he had used all Prisoners (as they were called) well, at the\nhazard of ill Usage to himself. That he had not in any military Capacity\nassisted their Robberies. That he had twice endeavoured his Escape, with\nthe utmost Danger. _Acquitted him._\nCaptain _James Skyrm._\nIT appeared from the Evidence of several Prisoners acquitted, that\nthis _Skyrm_ commanded the _Ranger_, in that Defence she made against the\nKing's Ship; that he ordered the Men to their Quarters, and the Guns to be\nloaded and fired, having a Sword in his Hand, to enforce those Commands;\nand beat such to their Duty whom he espied any way negligent or backward.\nThat altho' he had lost a Leg in the Action, his Temper was so warm, as to\nrefuse going off the Deck, till he found all was lost.\nIn his Defence, he says, he was forced from a Mate's Employ on Board a\nSloop call'd the _Greyhound_, of St. _Christophers, Oct._ 1720. The Pyrate\nhaving drubbed him, and broke his Head, only for offering to go away when\nthat Sloop was dismissed. Custom and Success had since indeed blunted, and,\nin some Measure, worn out the Sense of Shame; but that he had really for\nseveral Months past been sick, and disqualified for any Duty, and though\n_Roberts_ had forced him on this Expedition much against his Will, yet the\nEvidence must be sensible, the Title of Captain gave him no Pre-eminence,\nfor he could not be obeyed, though he had often called to them, to leave\noff their Fire, when he perceived it to be the King's Ship.\nThe Sickness he alledged, but more especially the Circumstance of losing\nhis Leg, were Aggravations of his Fault, shewing him more alert on such\nOccasions, than he was now willing to be thought: As to the Name of\nCaptain, if it were allowed to give him no Precedence out of Battle, yet\nhere it was proved a Title of Authority; such an Authority as could direct\nan Engagement against the King's Colours, and therefore he was in the\nhighest Degree, _Guilty._\n_John Walden._\nCAptain _John Trahern_, and _George Fenn_, deposed, the Prisoner to\nbe one of the Number, who, in an open Boat, pyratically assailed, and took\ntheir Ship, and was remarkably busy at Mischief, having a Pole-Ax in his\nHand, which served him instead of a Key, to all the lock'd Doors and Boxes\nhe come nigh: Also in particular, he cut the Cable of our Ship, when the\nother Pyrates were willing, and busied at heaving up the Anchor, saying,\nCaptain, what signifies this Trouble of _Yo Hope_ and straining in hot\nWeather; there are more Anchors at _London_, and besides, your Ship is to\nbe burnt.\n_William Smith_, (a Prisoner acquitted,) says _Walden_ was known among the\nPyrates mostly, by the Nick-Name of _Miss Nanney_ (ironically its presumed\nfrom the Hardness of his Temper) that he was one of the twenty who\nvoluntarily came on Board the _Ranger_, in the Chace she made out after the\n_Swallow_, and by a Shot from that Ship, lost his Leg; his Behaviour in the\nFight, till then, being bold and daring.\nThe _President_, called for _Harry Glasby_, and bid him relate a Character\nof the Prisoner, and what Custom was among them, in Relation to these\nvoluntary Expeditions, out of their proper Ship; and this of going on Board\nthe _Ranger_, in particular.\nAnd he gave in for Evidence, that the Prisoner was looked on as a brisk\nHand, (_i. e._ as he farther explained it, a stanch Pyrate, a great Rogue)\nthat when the _Swallow_ first appeared in Sight, every one was willing to\nbelieve her a _Portuguese_, because Sugar was very much in Demand, and had\nmade some Jarring and Dissention between the two Companies, (the\n_Fortune_'s People drinking Punch, when the _Ranger_'s could not) that\n_Roberts_, on Sight of the _Swallow_, hailed the new _Ranger_, and bid them\nright Ship, and get under Sail; there is, says he, Sugar in the Offing,\nbring it in, that we may have no more Mumbling; ordering at the same Time\nthe Word to be pass'd among the Crew, who would go to their Assistance, and\nimmediately the Boat was full of Men, to transport themselves.\n_President._ Then every one that goes on Board of any Prize, does it\nvoluntarily? Or were there here any other Reasons for it?\n_H. Glasby._ Every Man is commonly called by List, and insists, in his\nTurn, to go on Board of a Prize, because they then are allowed a Shift of\nCloaths, (the best they can find) over and above the Dividend from the\nRobbery, and this they are so far from being compelled to, that it often\nbecomes the Occasion of Contest and Quarrel amongst them: But in the\npresent, or such like Cases, where there appears a Prospect of Trouble, the\nLazy and Timerous are often willing to decline this Turn, and yield to\ntheir Betters, who thereby establish a greater Credit.\nThe Prisoner, and the rest of those Men who went from the _Fortune_ on\nBoard the _Ranger_, to assist in this Expedition, were Voluntiers, and the\ntrustiest Men among us.\n_President._ Were there no Jealousies of the _Ranger_'s leaving you in this\nChace, or at any other Time, in order to surrender?\n_H. Glasby._ Most of the _Ranger_'s Crew were fresh Men, Men who had been\nenter'd only since their being on the Coast of _Guiney_, and therefore had\nnot so liberal a Share in fresh Provisions, or Wine, as the _Fortune_'s\nPeople, who thought they had born the Burthen and Heat of the Day, which\nhad given Occasion indeed to some Grumblings and Whispers, as tho' they\nwould take an Opportunity to leave us, but we never supposed (if they did)\nit would be with any other Design then setting up for themselves, they\nhaving (many of them) behaved with greater Severity than the old Standers.\nThe Prisoner appeared undaunted, and rather solicitous, about resting his\nStump, than giving any Answer to the Court, or making any Defence for\nhimself, till called upon; then he related in a careless, or rather\nhopeless Manner, the Circumstances of his first Entrance, being forced, he\nsaid, out of the _Blessing_ of _Lemmington_, at _Newfoundland_, about 12\nMonths past; this, he is sure, most of the old Pyrates knew, and that he\nwas for some Time as sick of the Change as any Man; but Custom and ill\nCompany had altered him, owning very frankly, that he was at the Attack,\nand taking of the _King Solomon_, that he did cut her Cable, and that none\nwere forced on those Occasions.\nAs to the last Expedition in the _Ranger_, he confesses he went on Board of\nher, but that it was by _Robert_'s Order; and in the Chace loaded one Gun,\nto bring her to, but when he saw it was a Bite, he declared to his\nComrades, that it was not worth while to resist, forbore firing, and\nassisted to reeve the Braces, in order, if they could, to get away, in\nwhich sort of Service he was busied, when a Shot from the Man of War took\noff his Leg: And being asked, that supposing the Chace had proved a\n_Portuguese_? Why then, says he, I dont know what I might have done,\nintimating withal, that every Body then would have been ready enough at\nplundering. _Guilty._\n_Peter Scudamore._\nH_Arry Glasby, Jo. Wingfield_, and _Nicholas Brattle_, depose thus\nmuch, as to his being a Voluntier with the Pyrates, from Capt. _Rolls_, at\n_Calabar._ First, That he quarrelled with _Moody_, (one of the Heads of the\nGang) and fought with him, because he opposed his going, asking _Rolls_, in\na leering manner, whether he would not be so kind, as to put him into the\n_Gazette_, when he came Home. And, at another Time, when he was going from\nthe Pyrate Ship, in his Boat, a Turnado arose, _I wish_, says he, _the\nRascal may be drowned, for he is a great Rogue, and has endeavoured to do\nme all the ill Offices he could among these Gentlemen_, (_i. e._Pyrates.)\nAnd secondly, That he had signed the Pyrate's Articles with a great deal of\nAlacrity, and gloried in having been the first Surgeon that had done so,\n(for before this, it was their Custom to change their Surgeons, when they\ndesired it, after having served a Time, and never obliged them to sign, but\nhe was resolved to break thro' this, for the good of those who were to\nfollow,) swearing immediately upon it, he was now, he hoped, as great a\nRogue as any of them.\nCaptain _Jo. Trahern_, and _George Fenn_, his Mate, deposed, the Prisoner\nto have taken out of the _King Solomon_, their Surgeon's capital\nInstruments, some Medicines, and a Back-Gammon Table; which latter became\nthe Means of a Quarrel between one _Wincon_, and he, whose Property they\nshould be, and were yielded to the Prisoner.\n_Jo. Sharp_, Master of the _Elizabeth_, heard the Prisoner ask _Roberts_\nleave to force _Comry_, his Surgeon, from him, which was accordingly done,\nand with him, carried also some of the Ship's Medicines: But what gave a\nfuller Proof of the dishonesty of his Principles, was, the treacherous\nDesign he had formed of running away with the Prize, in her Passage to Cape\n_Corso_, though he had been treated with all Humanity, and very unlike a\nPrisoner, on Account of his Employ and better Education, which had rendred\nhim less to be suspected.\n_Mr. Child_, (acquitted) depos'd, that in their Passage from the Island of\nSt. _Thomas_, in the _Fortune_ Prize, this Prisoner was several Times\ntempting him, into Measures of rising with the Negroes, and killing the\n_Swallow_'s People, shewing him, how easily the white Men might be\ndemolished, and a new Company raised at _Angola_, and that Part of the\nCoast, _for_, says he, _I understand how to navigate a Ship, and can soon\nteach you to steer; and is it not better to do this, than to go back to_\nCape-Corso, _and be hanged and Sun-dryed?_ To which the Deponent replying,\nhe was not afraid of being hanged, _Scudamore_ bid him be still, and no\nHarm should come to him; but before the next Day-Evening, which was the\ndesigned Time of executing this Project, the Deponent discovered it to the\nOfficer, and assured him, _Scudamore_ had been talking all the preceeding\nNight to the Negroes, in _Angolan_ Language.\n_Isaac Burnet_ heard the Prisoner ask _James Harris_, a Pyrate, (left with\nthe wounded in the Prize,) whether he was willing to come into the Project\nof running away with the Ship, and endeavour the raising of a new Company,\nbut turned the Discourse to Horse-Racing, as the Deponent crept nigher; he\nacquainted the Officer with what he had heard, who kept the People under\nArms all Night, their Apprehensions of the Negroes not being groundless;\nfor many of them having lived a long Time in this pyratical Way, were, by\nthe thin Commons they were now reduced to, as ripe for Mischief as any.\nThe Prisoner in his Defence said, he was a forced Man from Captain _Rolls_,\nin _October_ last, and if he had not shewn such a Concern as became him, at\nthe Alteration, he must remark the Occasion to be, the Disagreement and\nEnmity between them; but that both _Roberts_, and _Val. Ashplant_,\nthreat'ned him into signing their Articles, and that he did it in Terror.\nThe _King Solomon_, and _Elizabeth_ Medicine-Chest, he owns he plundered,\nby Order of _Hunter_, the then chief Surgeon, who, by the Pyrates Laws,\nalways directs in this Province, and Mr. _Child_, (tho' acquitted) had by\nthe same Orders taken out a whole _French_ Medicine-Chest, which he must be\nsensible for me, as well as for himself, we neither of us dared to have\ndenied; it was their being the proper Judges, made so ungrateful an Office\nimposed. If after this he was elected chief Surgeon himself, both _Comry_\nand _Wilson_ were set up also, and it might have been their Chance to have\ncarried it, and as much out of their Power to have refused.\nAs to the Attempt of rising and running away with the Prize, he denies it\naltogether as untrue; a few foolish Words, but only by Way of Supposition,\nthat if the Negroes should take it in their Heads (considering the\nWeakness, and ill look-out that was kept;) it would have been an easy\nMatter, in his Opinion for them to have done it; but that he encouraged\nsuch a Thing, was false, his talking to them in the _Angolan_ Language, was\nonly a Way of spending his Time, and trying his Skill to tell twenty, he\nbeing incapable of further Talk. As to his understanding Navigation, he had\nfrequently acknowledg'd it to the Deponent _Child_, and wonders he should\nnow so circumstantiate this Skill against him. _Guilty._\n_Robert Johnson._\nIT appeared to the Court, that the Prisoner was one of the twenty\nMen, in that Boat of the Pyrates, which afterwards robb'd the _King\nSolomon_, at an Anchor near Cape _Appollonia_: That all Pyrates on this,\nand the like Service, were Voluntiers, and he, in particular, had contested\nhis going on Board a second Time, tho' out of his Turn.\nThe Prisoner in his Defence, called for _Harry Glasby_, who witnessed to\nhis being so very drunk, when he first came among their Crew, that they\nwere forced to hoist him out of one Ship into the other, with a Tackle, and\ntherefore without his Consent; but had since been a trusty Man, and was\nplaced to the Helm, in that running Battle they made with the _Swallow._\nHe insisted for himself likewise, on Captain _Turner_'s Affidavit of his\nbeing forced, on which others (his Ship-mates) had been cleared.\nThe Court considering the Partiality that might be objected in acquitting\none, and condemning another of the same standing, thought sit to remark it\nas a clear Testimony of their Integrity, that their Care and Indulgence to\neach Man, in allowing his particular Defence, was to exempt from the Rigour\nof the Law, such, who it must be allowed, would have stood too\npromiscuously condemned, if they had not been heard upon any other Fact\nthan that of the _Swallow_; and herein what could better direct them, than\na Character and Behaviour from their own Associates; for tho' a voluntary\nEntry with the Pyrates may be doubtful, yet his consequent Actions are not,\nand it is not so material how a Man comes among Pyrates, as how he acts\nwhen he is there. _Guilty._\n_George Wilson._\nJ_OHN Sharp_, Master of the _Elizabeth_, in which Ship the Prisoner\nwas Passenger, and fell a second Time into the Pyrates Hands, deposes, that\nhe took the said _Wilson_ off from _Sestos_, on this Coast, paying to the\nNegroes for his Ransom, the Value of three Pound five Shillings in Goods,\nfor which he had taken a Note, that he thought he had done a charitable Act\nin this, till meeting with one Captain _Canning_, he was ask'd, why he\nwould release such a Rogue as _Wilson_ was? For that he had been a\nVoluntier with the Pyrates, out of _John Tarlton._ And when the Deponent\ncame to be a Prisoner himself, he found _Thomas_, the Brother of this _John\nTarlton_, a Prisoner with the Pyrates also, who was immediately on\n_Wilson_'s Instigation, in a most sad manner misused and beat, and had been\nshot, through the Fury and Rage of some of those Fellows, if the Town-side,\n(_i. e. Liverpool_) Men, had not hid him in a Stay-Sail, under the\nBowsprit; for _Moody_ and _Harper_, with their Pistols cock'd, searched\nevery Corner of the Ship to find him, and came to this Deponent's Hammock,\nwhom they had like fatally to have mistaken for _Tarlton_, but on his\ncalling out, they found their Error, and left him with this comfortable\nAnodyne, That he was the honest Fellow who brought the Doctor. At coming\naway, the Prisoner asked about his Note, whether the Pyrates had it or no?\nWho not being able readily to tell, he reply'd, it's no Matter Mr. _Sharp_,\nI believe I shall hardly ever come to _England_ to pay it.\n_Adam Comry_, Surgeon of the _Elizabeth_, says, that altho' the Prisoner\nhad, on Account of his Indisposition and Want, received many Civilities\nfrom him, before meeting with the Pyrates, he yet understood it was thro'\nhis and _Scudamore_'s Means, that he had been compelled among them: The\nPrisoner was very alert and chearful, he says, at meeting with _Roberts_,\nhailed him, told him he was glad to see him, and would come on Board\npresently, borrowing of the Deponent a clean Shirt and Drawers, for his\nbetter Appearence and Reception; he signed their Articles willingly, and\nused Arguments with him to do the same, saying, they should make their\nVoyage in eight Months, to _Brasil_, Share 6 or 700 _l._ a Man, and then\nbreak up. Again, when the Crew came to an Election of a chief Surgeon, and\nthis Deponent was set up with the others, _Wilson_ told him, he hoped he\nshould carry it from _Scudamore_, for that a quarter Share (which they had\nmore than others) would be worth looking after; but the Deponent missed the\nPreferment, by the good Will of the _Ranger_'s People, who, in general,\nvoted for _Scudamore_, to get rid of him, (the chief Surgeon being always\nto remain with the Commadore.)\nIt appeared likewise by the Evidence of Captain _Jo. Trahern, Tho. Castel_,\nand others, who had been taken by the Pyrates, and thence had Opportunities\nof observing the Prisoners Conduct, that he seem'd thoroughly satisfy'd\nwith that Way of Life, and was particularly intimate with _Roberts_; they\noften scoffing at the Mention of a Man of War, and saying, if they should\nmeet with any of the Turnip-Man's Ships, they would blow up, and go to\nH--ll together. Yet setting aside these silly Freaks, to recommend himself,\nhis Laziness had got him many Enemies, even _Roberts_ told him, (on the\nComplaint of a wounded Man, whom he had refused to dress) that he was a\ndouble Rogue, to be there a second Time, and threat'ned to cut his Ears\noff.\nThe Evidence further assured the Court, from Captain _Thomas Tarlton_, that\nthe Prisoner was taken out of his Brother's Ship, some Months before, a\nfirst Time, and being forward to oblige his new Company, had presently\nask'd for the Pyrates Boat, to fetch the Medicine Chest away; when the Wind\nand Current proving too hard to contend with, they were drove on Shore at\nCape _Montzerado._\nThe Prisoner called for _William Darling_, and _Samuel Morwel_, (acquitted)\nand _Nicholas Butler._\n_William Darling_ deposed, the first Time the Prisoner fell into their\nHands, _Roberts_ mistook him for _Jo. Tarlton_ the Master, and being\ninformed it was the Surgeon who came to represent him, (then indisposed,)\nhe presently swore he should be his Mess-Mate, to which _Wilson_ reply'd,\nhe hop'd not, he had a Wife and Child, which the other laughed at; and that\nhe had been two Days on Board, before he went in that Boat, which was drove\non Shore at Cape _Montzerado._ And at his second coming, in the\n_Elizabeth_, he heard _Roberts_ order he should be brought on Board in the\nfirst Boat.\n_Samuel Morwel_ says, that he has heard him bewail his Condition, while on\nBoard the Pyrate, and desired one _Thomas_, to use his Interest with\n_Roberts_, for a Discharge, saying, his Employ, and the little Fortune he\nhad left at Home, would, he hop'd, exempt him the further Trouble of\nseeking his Bread at Sea.\n_Nicholas Butler_, who had remained with the Pyrates about 48 Hours, when\nthey took the _French_ Ships at _Whydah_, deposes, that in this Space the\nPrisoner addressed him in the _French_ Language, several Times, deploring\nthe Wretchedness and ill Fortune of being confined in such Company.\nThe Prisoner desiring Liberty of two or three Questions, ask'd, whether or\nno he had not expostulated with _Roberts_, for a Reason of his obliging\nSurgeons to sign their Articles, when heretofore they did not; Whether he\nhad not expressed himself glad of having formerly escaped from them?\nWhether he had not said, at taking the Ships in _Whydah_ Road, that he\ncould like the Sport, were it lawful? And whether if he had not told him,\nshould the Company discharge any Surgeon, that he would insist on it as his\nTurn? The Deponent answered, Yes, to every Question separately; and\nfarther, that he believes _Scudamore_ had not seen _Wilson_ when he first\ncame and found him out of the _Elizabeth._\nHe added, in his own Defence, that being Surgeon with one _John Tarlton_,\nof _Leverpool_, he was met a first Time on this Coast of _Guiney_, by\n_Roberts_ the Pyrate; who, after a Day or two, told him, to his Sorrow,\nthat he was to stay there, and ordered him to fetch his Chest, (not\nMedicines, as asserted,) which Opportunity he took to make his Escape; for\nthe Boat's Crew happening to consist of five _French_ and one _English_\nMan, all as willing as himself, they agreed to push the Boat on Shore, and\ntrust themselves with the Negroes of Cape _Montzerado_: Hazardous, not only\nin Respect of the dangerous Seas that run there, but the Inhumanity of the\nNatives, who sometimes take a liking to humane Carcasses. Here he remained\nfive Months, till _Thomas Tarlton_, Brother to his Captain chanced to put\nin the Road for Trade, to whom he represented his Hardships and starving\nCondition; but was, in an unchristian Manner, both refused a Release of\nthis Captivity, or so much as a small Supply of Biscuit and salt Meat,\nbecause, as he said, he had been among the Pyrates. A little Time after\nthis, the Master of a _French_ Ship paid a Ransom for him, and took him\noff; but, by Reason of a nasty leperous Indisposition he had contracted by\nhard and bad living, was, to his great Misfortune set ashore at _Sestos_\nagain, when Captain _Sharp_ met him, and generously procured his Release in\nthe Manner himself has related, and for which he stands infinitely\nobliged.--That ill Luck threw him a second Time into the Pyrate's Hands, in\nthis Ship _Elizabeth_, where he met _Thomas Tarlton_, and thoughtlesly used\nsome Reproaches of him, for his severe Treatment at _Montzerado_; but\nprotests without Design his Words should have had so bad a Consequence; for\n_Roberts_ took upon him, as a Dispenser of Justice, the Correction of Mr.\n_Tarlton_, beating him unmercifully; and he hopes it will be belived,\ncontrary to any Intention of his it should so happen, because as a Stranger\nhe might be supposed to have no Influence, and believes there were some\nother Motives for it.--He cannot remember he expressed himself glad to see\n_Roberts_ this second Time, or that he dropped those Expressions about\n_Comry_, as are sworn; but if immaturity of Judgment had occasioned him to\nslip rash and inadvertent Words, or that he had paid any undue Compliments\nto _Roberts_, it was to ingratiate himself, as every Prisoner did, for a\nmore civil Treatment, and in particular to procure his Discharge, which he\nhad been promised, and was afraid would have been revoked, if such a Person\nas _Comry_ did not remain there to supply his Room; and of this, he said,\nall the Gentlemen (meaning the Pyrates) could witness for him.\nHe urged also his Youth in Excuse for his Rashness.--The first time he had\nbeen with them (only a Month in all,) and that in no military Employ; but\nin particular, the Service he had done in discovering the Design the\nPyrates had to rise in their Passage on Board the _Swallow. Guilty._\nBut Execution respited till the King's Pleasure be known, because the\nCommander of the _Swallow_ had declared, the first Notice he received of\nthis Design of the Pyrates to rise, was from him.\n_Benjamin Jefferys_\nBY the Depositions of _Glasby_ and _Lillburn_ (acquitted) against\nthis Prisoner, it appeared, that his Drunkenness was what at first detained\nhim from going away in his proper Ship, the _Norman_ Galley; and next\nMorning, for having been abusive in his Drink, saying to the Pyrates, there\nwas not a Man amongst them, he received for a Welcome, six Lashes from\nevery Person in the Ship, which disordered him for some Weeks, but on\nRecovery was made Boatswain's Mate; the serving of which, or any Office on\nBoard a Pyrate, is at their own Option, (tho' elected,) because others are\nglad to accept what brings an additional Share in Prize.\nThe Deponents further say, that at _Sierraleon_ every Man had more\nespecially the Means of escaping; and that this Prisoner, in particular,\nneglected it, and came off from that Place after their Ship was under Sail,\nand going out of the River.\nThe Prisoner, in his Defence, protests, he was at first forc'd; and that\nthe Office of Boatswain's Mate was imposed on him, and what he would have\nbeen glad to have relinquish'd. That the barbarous Whipping he had received\nfrom the Pyrates at first, was for telling them, that none who could get\ntheir Bread in an honest Way, would be on such an Account. And he had\ncertainly taken the Opportunity which presented at _Sierraleon_, of ridding\nhimself from so distastful a Life, if there had not been three or four of\nthe old Pyrates on Shore at the same Time, who, he imagined, must know of\nhim, and would doubtless have served him the same, if not worse, than they\nsince had done _William Williams_; who, for such a Design, being delivered\nup by the treacherous Natives, had received two Lashes thro' the whole\nShip's Company.\nThe Court observed, the Excuses of these Pyrates, about want of Means to\nescape, was oftentimes as poor and evasive as their Pleas of being forced\nat first; for here, at _Sierraleon_, every Man had his Liberty on Shore,\nand it was evident, might have kept it, if he, or they, had so pleased. And\nsuch are further culpable, who having been introduced into the Society, by\nsuch uncivil Methods, as whipping, or beating, neglect less likely Means of\nregaining Liberty; it shews strong Inclinations to Dishonesty, and they\nstand inexcusably, _Guilty._\n_Jo. Mansfield._\nIT was proved against this Prisoner, by Captain _Trahern_ and _George\nFenn_, that he was one of those Voluntiers who was at the Attack and\nRobbery of the Company's Ship, called the _King Solomon_: That he bully'd\nwell among them who dar'd not make any Reply, but was very easy with his\nFriends, who knew him; for _Moody_, on this Occasion, took a large Glass\nfrom him, and threatned to blow his Brains out, (a favourite Phrase with\nthese Pyrates) if he muttered at it.\nFrom others acquitted, it likewise appeared, that he was at first a\nVoluntier among them, from an Island call'd _Dominico_, in the\n_West-Indies_, and had to recommend himself, told them, he was a Deserter\nfrom the _Rose_ Man of War, and before that, had been on the High-Way; he\nwas always drunk, they said, and so bad at the Time they met with the\n_Swallow_, that he knew nothing of the Action, but came up vapouring with\nhis Cutlash, after the _Fortune_ had struck her Colours, to know who would\ngo on Board the Prize; and it was some Time before they could perswade him\ninto the Truth of their Condition.\nHe could say little in Defence of himself, acknowledg'd this latter Part of\nDrunkenness; a Vice, he says, that had too great a Share in insnaring him\ninto this Course of Life, and had been a greater Motive with him than Gold.\n_Guilty._\n_William Davis._\nW_Illiam Allen_ deposed, he knew this Prisoner at _Sierraleon_,\nbelonging to the _Ann_ Galley; that he had a Quarrel with, and beat the\nMate of that Ship, for which (as he said) being afraid to return to his\nDuty, he consorted to the idle Customs and Ways of living among the\nNegroes, from whom he received a Wife, and ungratefully sold her, one\nEvening, for some Punch to quench his Thirst. After this, having put\nhimself under the Protection of Mr. _Plunket_, Governor there for the Royal\n_African_ Company: The Relations and Friends of the Woman, apply'd to him\nfor Redress, who immediately surrendered the Prisoner, and told them, he\ndid not care if they took his Head off; but the Negroes wisely judging it\nwould not fetch so good a Price, they sold him in his Turn again to\nSeignior _Jossee_, a Christian Black, and Native of that Place; who\nexpected and agreed for two Years Service from him, on Consideration of\nwhat he had disbursed, for the Redemption of the Woman: But long before the\nExpiration of this Time, _Roberts_ came into _Sierraleon_ River, where the\nPrisoner, (as Seignior _Jossee_ assured the Deponent,) entered a Voluntier\nwith them.\nThe Deponent further corroborates this Part of the Evidence; in that he\nbeing obliged to call at Cape _Mount_, in his Passage down hither, met\nthere with two Deserters from _Roberts_'s Ship, who assured him of the\nsame; and that the Pyrates did design to turn _Davis_ away the next\nOpportunity, as an idle good-for-nothing Fellow.\nFrom _Glasby_ and _Lilburn_, it was evident, that every Pyrate, while they\nstay'd at _Sierraleon_, went on Shore at Discretion. That _Roberts_ had\noften assured Mr. _Glyn_ and other Traders, at that Place, that he would\nforce no Body; and in short, there was no Occasion for it; in particular,\nthe Prisoner's Row-Mate went away, and thinks, he might have done the same,\nif he had pleased.\nThe Prisoner alledged his having been detained against his Will, and says,\nthat returning with Elephants Teeth for _Sierraleon_, the Pyrate's Boat\npursued and brought him on Board, where he was kept on Account of his\nunderstanding the Pilotage and Navigation of that River.\nIt was obvious to the Court, not only how frivolous Excuses of Constraint\nand Force were among these People, at their first commencing Pyrates, but\nalso it was plain to them, from these two Deserters, met at Cape _Mount_,\nand the discretional Manner they lived in, at _Sierraleon_; thro' how\nlittle Difficulty several of them did, and others might, have escaped\nafterwards, if they could but have obtained their own Consents for it.\n_Guilty._\nThis is the Substance of the Tryals of _Roberts_'s Crew, which may suffice\nfor others, that occur in this Book. The foregoing Lists, shews, by a *\nbefore the Names, who were condemn'd; those Names with a + were referred\nfor Tryal to the _Marshalsea_, and all the rest were acquitted.\nThe following Pyrates were executed, according to their Sentence,\nwithout the Gates of Cape _Corso-Castle_, within the Flood-Marks, _viz._\nMens Names          Years of Age   Habitations.\nWilliam Magnes          35         Minehead.\nRichard Hardy           25         Wales.\nDavid Sympson           36         North-Berwick.\nChristopher Moody       28\nThomas Sutton           23         Berwick.\nValentine Ashplant      32         Minories.\nPeter de Vine           42         Stepney.\nWilliam Philips         29         Lower-Shadwell.\nWilliam Main            28\nWilliam Mackintosh      21         Canterbury.\nWilliam Williams        40         nigh Plymouth.\nRobert Haws             31         Yarmouth.\nWilliam Petty           30         Deptford.\nJohn Jaynson            22         nigh Lancaster.\nMarcus Johnson          21         Smyrna.\nRobert Crow             44         Isle of Man.\nDaniel Harding          26         Croomsbury in Somersetshire.\nWilliam Fernon          22         Somersetshire.\nAbraham Harper          23         Bristol.\nJo. Parker              22         Winfred in Dorsetshire.\nJo. Philips             28         Alloway in Scotland.\nJames Clement           20         Jersey.\nPeter Scvdamore         35         Bristol.\nJohn Walden             24         Somersetshire.\nJo. Stephenson          40         Whitby.\nJo. Mansfield           30         Orkneys.\nIsrael Hynde            30         Bristol.\nPeter Lesley            21         Aberdeen.\nCharles Bunce           26         Excter\nRobert Birtson          30         Other St. Maries Devonshire.\nRichard Harris          45         Cornwall.\nJoseph Nosuter          26         Sadbury in Devonshire.\nWilliam Williams        30         Speechless at Execution.\nAgge Jacobson           30         Holland.\nBenjamin Jefferys       21         Bristol.\nCuthbert Goss           21         Topsham.\nJohn Jessup             20         Plymouth.\nEdward Watts            22         Dunmore.\nThomas Giles            26         Mine-head.\nThomas Armstrong        34         London, executed on board the Weymouth.\nRobert Johnson          32         at Whydah.\nWilliam Watts           23         Ireland.\nJames Philips           35         Antegoa.\nRobert Hays             20         Liverpool.\nWilliam Davis           23         Wales.\nThe Remainder of the Pyrates, whose Names are under mentioned, upon their\nhumble Petition to the Court, had their Sentence changed from Death, to\nseven Years Servitude, conformable to our Sentence of Transportation; the\nPetition is as follows.\n_To the Honourable the President and Judges of the Court of\nAdmiralty, for trying of Pyrates, sitting at_ Cape Corso-Castle; _the_\n20_th Day of_ April, 1722.\nThe humble Petition of _Thomas How, Samuel Fletcher_, &c.\n      Humbly sheweth,\nT_HAT your Petitioners being unhappily, and unwarily drawn into that\nwretched and detestable Crime of Pyracy, for which they now stand justly\ncondemned, they most humbly pray the Clemency of the Court, in the\nMitigation of their Sentence, that they may be permitted to serve the\nRoyal_ African _Company of_ England, _in this Country for seven Years, in\nsuch a Manner as the Court shall think proper; that by their just\nPunishment, being made sensible of the Error of their former Ways, they\nwill for the future become faithful Subjects, good Servants, and useful in\ntheir Stations, if it please the Almighty to prolong their Lives._\nAnd your Petitioners, as in Duty, _&c._\nThe Resolution of the Court was,\nT_HAT the Petitioners have Leave by this Court of Admiralty, to\ninterchange Indentures with the Captain General of the_ Gold Coast, _for\nthe Royal_ African _Company, for seven Years Servitude, at any of the\nRoyal_ African _Company's Settlements in_ Africa, _in such Manner as he the\nsaid Captain General shall think proper._\n_On_ Thursday _the_ 26_th Day of_ April, _the Indentures being all drawn\nout, according to the Grant made to the Petitioners, by the Court held on_\nFriday _the_ 20_th of this Instant; each Prisoner was sent for up, signed,\nsealed and exchanged them in the Presence of_\n_Captain_ Mungo Herdman, _President_, James Phipps, _Esq_; _Mr._\nEdward Hyde, _Mr._ Charles Fanshaw, _And Mr._ John Atkins, _Register._\n_A Copy of the Indenture._\n   The Indenture of a Person\n   condemned to serve abroad for Pyracy, which, upon the\n   humble Petition of the Pyrates therein mentioned, was\n   most mercifully granted by his Imperial Majesty's\n   Commissioners and Judges appointed to hold a Court of\n   Admiralty, for the Tryal of Pyrates at Cape\n   _Corso-Castle_, in _Africa_, upon Condition of serving\n   seven Years, and other Conditions, are as follows,\nT_HIS Indenture made the twenty sixth Day of_ April, Anno Regni Regis\nGeorgii magn\u00e6 Britanni\u00e6, _&c._ Septimo, Domini, Millessimo, Sepcentessimo\nviginti duo, _between_ Roger Scot, _late of the City of_ Bristol _Mariner,\nof the one Part, and the Royal_ African _Company of_ England, _their\nCaptain General and Commander in Chief, for the Time being, on the other\nPart_, Witnesseth, _that the said_ Roger Scot, _doth hereby covenant, and\nagree to, and with, the said Royal_ African _Company, their Captain\nGeneral, and Commander in chief for the Time being, to serve him, or his\nlawful Successors, in any of the Royal_ African _Company's Settlements on\nthe Coast of_ Africa, _from the Day of the Date of these Presents, to the\nfull Term of seven Years, from hence next ensuing, fully to be compleat and\nended; there to serve in such Employment, as the said Captain General, or\nhis Successors shall employ him; according to the Custom of the Country in\nlike Kind._\n_In Consideration whereof, the said Captain General, and Commander in chief\ndoth covenant and agree, to, and with, the said_ Roger Scot, _to find and\nallow him Meat, Drink, Apparel and Lodging, according to the Custom of the\nCountry._\n_In witness whereof, the Parties aforesaid, to these Presents, have\ninterchangably put their Hands and Seals, the Day and Year first above\nwritten._\n_Signed, sealed and delivered, in the Presence of us, at Cape_\nCorso-Castle, _in_ Africa, _where no stamp'd Paper was to be had._\nMungo Heardman, _President_, Witness. John Atkins, _Register_,\nWitness.\nIn like Manner was drawn out and exchanged the Indentures of\nT_Homas How_ of _Barnstable_, in the County of _Devon._\n_Samuel Fletcher_ of _East-Smithfield, London._\n_John Lane_ of _Lombard-Street, London._\n_David Littlejohn_ of _Bristol._\n_John King_ of _Shadwell_ Parish, _London._\n_Henry Dennis_ of _Bidiford._\n_Hugh Harris_ of _Corf-Castle, Devonshire._\n_William Taylor_ of _Bristol._\n_Thomas Owen_ of _Bristol._\n_John Mitchel_ of _Shadwell_ Parish, _London._\n_Joshua Lee_ of _Leverpool._\n_William Shuren_ of _Wapping_ Parish, _London._\n_Robert Hartley_ of _Leverpool._\n_John Griffin_ of _Blackwall, Middlesex._\n_James Cromby_ of _London, Wapping._\n_James Greenham_ of _Marshfield, Gloucestershire._\n_John Horn_ of St. _James's_ Parish, _London._\n_John Jessop_ of _Wisbich, Cambridgshire._\n_David Rice_ of _Bristol._\nNone of which, I hear, are now living, two others, _viz. George Wilson_ and\n_Thomas Oughterlaney_, were respited from Execution, till his Majesty's\nPleasure should be known; the former dy'd abroad, and the latter came Home,\nand received his Majesty's Pardon; the Account of the whole stands thus,\nKill'd in the Ranger,                 10\nKill'd in the Fortune,                 3\nDy'd in the Passage to Cape Corso,    15\nDy'd afterwards in the Castle,         4\nNegroes in both Ships,                70\nI am not ignorant how acceptable the Behaviour and dying Words of\nMalefactors are to the generallity of our Countrymen, and therefore shall\ndeliver what occurr'd, worthy of Notice, in the Behaviour of these\nCriminals.\nThe first six that were called to Execution, were _Magnes, Moody, Sympson,\nSutton, Ashplant_, and _Hardy_; all of them old Standers and notorious\nOffenders: When they were brought out of the Hold, on the Parade, in order\nto break off their Fetters, and fit the Halters; none of them, it was\nobserved, appeared the least dejected, unless _Sutton_, who spoke faint,\nbut it was rather imputed to a Flux that had seiz'd him two or three Days\nbefore, than Fear. A Gentleman, who was Surgeon of the Ship, was so\ncharitable at this Time, to offer himself in the room of an Ordinary, and\nrepresented to them, as well as he was able, the Heinousness of their Sin,\nand Necessity which lay on them of Repentance; one particular Part of which\nought to be, acknowledging the Justice they had met with. They seem'd\nheedless for the present, some calling for Water to drink, and others\napplying to the Soldiers for Caps, but when this Gentleman press'd them for\nan Answer, they all exclaim'd against the Severity of the Court, and were\nso harden'd, as to curse, and wish the same Justice might overtake all the\nMembers of it, as had been dealt to them. _They were poor Rogues_, they\nsaid, _and so hang'd, while others, no less guilty in another Way,\nescaped._\nWhen he endeavoured to compose their Minds, exhorting them to dye in\nCharity with all the World, and would have diverted them from such vain\nDiscourse, by asking them their Country, Age, and the like; some of them\nanswered, `What was that to him, they suffered the Law, and should give no\nAccount but to God;\u00b4 walking to the Gallows without a Tear, in Token of\nSorrow for their past Offences, or shewing as much Concern as a Man would\nexpress at travelling a bad Road; nay, _Sympson_, at seeing a Woman that he\nknew, said, `he had lain with that B--h three times, and now she was come\nto see him hang'd.\u00b4 And _Hardy_, when his Hands were ty'd behind him,\n(which happened from their not being acquainted with the Way of bringing\nMalefactors to Execution,) observed, `that he had seen many a Man hang'd,\nbut this Way of the Hands being ty'd behind them, he was a Stranger to, and\nnever saw before in his Life.\u00b4 I mention these two little Instances, to\nshew how stupid and thoughtless they were of their End, and that the same\nabandoned and reprobate Temper that had carried them thro' their Rogueries,\nabided with them to the last.\n_Samuel Fletcher_, another of the Pyrates ordered for Execution, but\nreprieved, seem'd to have a quicker Sense of his Condition; for when he saw\nthose he was allotted with gone to Execution, he sent a Message by the\nProvost-Marshal to the Court, to be `inform'd of the Meaning of it, and\nhumbly desir'd to know whether they design'd him Mercy, or not? If they\ndid, he stood infinitely oblig'd to them, and thought the whole Service of\nhis Life an incompetent Return for so great a Favour; but that if he was to\nsuffer, the sooner the better, _he said_, that he might be out of his\nPain.\u00b4\nThere were others of these Pyrates the reverse of this, and tho' destitute\nof Ministers, or fit Persons to represent their Sins, and assist them with\nspiritual Advice, were yet always imploying their Time to good Purposes,\nand behaved with a great deal of seeming Devotion and Penitence; among\nthese may be reckon'd _Scudamore, Williams, Philips, Stephenson, Jefferys,\nLesly, Harper, Armstrong, Bunce_, and others.\n_Scudamore_ too lately discerned the Folly and Wickedness of the\nEnterprize, that had chiefly brought him under Sentence of Death, from\nwhich, seeing there was no Hopes of escaping, he petitioned for two or\nthree Days Reprieve, which was granted; and for that Time apply'd himself\nincessantly to Prayer, and reading the Scriptures, seem'd to have a deep\nSense of his Sins, of this in particular, and desired, at the Gallows, they\nwould have Patience with him, to sing the first Part of the thirty first\nPsalm; which he did by himself throughout.\n_Armstrong_, having been a Deserter from his Majesty's Service, was\nexecuted on Board the _Weymouth_, (and the only one that was;) there was no\nBody to press him to an Acknowledgement of the Crime he died for, nor of\nsorrowing in particular for it, which would have been exemplary, and made\nsuitable Impressions on Seamen; so that his last Hour was spent in\nlamenting and bewailing his Sins in general, exhorting the Spectators to an\nhonest and good Life, in which alone they could find Satisfaction. In the\nEnd, he desir'd they would join with him in singing two or three latter\nVerses of the 140th Psalm; and that being concluded, he was, at the firing\nof a Gun, tric'd up at the Fore-Yard-Arm.\n_Bunce_ was a young Man, not above 26 Years old, but made the most\npathetical Speech of any at the Gallows. He first declaim'd against the\nguilded Bates of Power, Liberty, and Wealth, that had ensnar'd him among\nthe Pyrates, his unexperienc'd Years not being able to withstand the\nTemptation; but that the Briskness he had shewn, which so fatally had\nprocured him Favour amongst them, was not so much a Fault in Principle, as\nthe Liveliness and Vivacity of his Nature. He was now extreamly afflicted\nfor the Injuries he had done to all Men, and begg'd their's and God's\nForgiveness, very earnestly exhorting the Spectators to remember their\nCreator in their Youth, and guard betimes, that their Minds took not a\nwrong Byass, concluding with this apt Similitude, _That he stood there as a\nBeacon upon a Rock_, (the Gallows standing on one) _to warn erring\nMarriners of Danger._\nCHAP. X. OF Captain _ANSTIS_, And his CREW.\nT_HOMAS Anstis_ ship'd himself at _Providence_ in the Year 1718,\naboard the _Buck_ Sloop, and was one of six that conspired together to go\noff a pyrating with the Vessel; the rest were, _Howel Davis, Roberts_'s\nPredecessor, killed at the Island of _Princes; Dennis Topping_, killed at\nthe taking of the rich _Portuguese_ Ship on the Coast of _Brasil; Walter\nKennedy_, hanged at _Execution-Dock_, and two others, which I forbear to\nname, because, I understand they are at this Day employ'd in an honest\nVocation in the City.\nWhat followed concerning _Anstis_'s Pyracies, has been included in the two\npreceeding Chapters; I shall only observe that the Combination of these six\nMen abovementioned, was the Beginning of that Company, that afterwards\nproved so formidable under Captain _Roberts_, from whom _Anstis_ separated\nthe 18th of _April_ 1721, in the _Good Fortune_ Brigantine, leaving his\nCommadore to pursue his Adventures upon the Coast of _Guiney_, whilst he\nreturned to the _West-Indies_, upon the like Design.\nAbout the Middle of _June_, these Pyrates met with one Captain _Marston_,\nbetween _Hispaniola_ and _Jamaica_, bound on a Voyage to _New-York_; from\nwhom they took all the wearing Apparel they could find, as also his Liquors\nand Provision, and five of his Men, but did not touch his Cargo; two or\nthree other Vessels were also plundered by them, in this Cruise, out of\nwhom they stocked themselves with Provision and Men; among the rest, I\nthink, was the _Irwin_, Captain _Ross_, from _Cork_ in _Ireland_; but this\nI won't be positive of, because they denied it themselves. This Ship had\n600 Barrels of Beef aboard, besides other Provisions, and was taken off\n_Martinico_, wherein Colonel _Doyly_ of _Montserrat_, and his Family were\nPassengers. The Colonel was very much abused and wounded, for endeavouring\nto save a poor Woman, that was also a Passenger, from the Insults of that\nbrutish Crew; and the Pyrates prevailing, twenty one of them forced the\npoor Creature successively, afterwards broke her Back and flung her into\nthe Sea. I say, I will not be positive it was _Anstis_'s Crew that acted\nthis unheard of Violence and Cruelty, tho' the Circumstances of the Place,\nthe Time, the Force of the Vessel, and the Number of Men, do all concur,\nand I can place the Villany no where else; but that such a Fact was done,\nthere is too much Evidence for it to be doubted of.\nWhen they thought fit to put an End to this Cruize, they went into one of\nthe Islands to clean, which they effected without any Disturbance, and came\nout again, and stretching away towards _Burmudas_, met with a stout Ship,\ncalled the _Morning Star_, bound from _Guiney_ to _Carolina_; they made\nPrize of her, and kept her for their own Use. In a Day or two, a Ship from\n_Barbadoes_ bound to _New-York_, fell into their Hands, and taking out her\nGuns and Tackle, mounted the _Morning Star_ with 32 Pieces of Cannon,\nmann'd her with a 100 Men, and appointed one _John Fenn_ Captain; for the\nBrigantine being of far less Force, the _Morning Star_ would have fallen to\n_Anstis_, as elder Officer, yet he was so in Love with his own Vessel, (she\nbeing an excellent Sailor,) that he made it his Choice to stay in her, and\nlet _Fenn_, who was, before, his Gunner, Command the great Ship.\nNow, that they had two good Ships well mann'd, it may be supposed they were\nin a Condition to undertake something bold: But their Government was\ndisturbed by Malecontents, and a Kingdom divided within it self cannot\nstand; they had such a Number of new Men amongst them, that seem'd not so\nviolently enclined for the Game; that whatever the Captain proposed, it was\ncertainly carried against him, so that they came to no fix'd Resolution for\nthe undertaking any Enterprize; therefore there was nothing to be done, but\nto break up the Company, which seemed to be the Inclination of the\nMajority, but the Manner of doing so, concerned their common Safety; to\nwhich Purpose various Means were proposed, at length it was concluded to\nsend home a Petition to his Majesty (there being then no Act of Indemnity\nin Force) for a Pardon, and wait the Issue; at the same Time one _Jones_,\nBoatswain of the _Good Fortune_, proposed a Place of safe Retreat, it being\nan uninhabited Island near _Cuba_, which he had been used to in the late\nWar, when he went a privateering against the _Spaniards._\nThis being approved of, it was unanimously resolved on, and the\nunderwritten Petition drawn up and signed by the whole Company in the\nManner of what they call a _Round Robin_, that is, the Names were writ in a\nCircle, to avoid all Appearance of Pre-eminence, and least any Person\nshould be mark'd out by the Government, as a principal Rogue among them.\n_To his most sacred Majesty_ George, _by the Grace of God, of_\nGreat-Britain, France _and_ Ireland, _King, Defender of the Faith_, &c.\nThe humble PETITION of the Company, now belonging to the Ship\n_Morning Star_, and Brigantine _Good Fortune_, lying under the ignominious\nName and Denomination of PYRATES.\n      Humbly sheweth,\nT_HAT we your Majesty's most loyal Subjects, have, at sundry Times,\nbeen taken by_ Bartholomew Roberts, _the then Captain of the abovesaid\nVessels and Company, together with another Ship, in which we left him; and\nhave been forced by him and his wicked Accomplices, to enter into, and\nserve, in the said Company, as Pyrates, much contrary to our Wills and\nInclinations: And we your loyal Subjects utterly abhoring and detesting\nthat impious way of Living, did, with an unanimous Consent, and contrary to\nthe Knowledge of the said_ Roberts, _or his Accomplices, on, or about the_\n18_th Day of_ April 1721, _leave, and ran away with the aforesaid Ship_\nMorning Star, _and Brigantine_ Good Fortune, _with no other Intent and\nMeaning than the Hopes of obtaining your Majesty's most gracious Pardon.\nAnd, that we your Majesty's most loyal Subjects, may with more Safety\nreturn to our native Country, and serve the Nation, unto which we belong,\nin our respective Capacities, without Fear of being prosecuted by the\nInjured, whose Estates have suffered by the said_ Roberts _and his\nAccomplices, during our forcible Detainment, by the said Company: We most\nhumbly implore your Majesty's most royal Assent, to this our humble\nPetition._\nAnd your Petitioners shall ever pray.\nThis Petition was sent home by a Merchant Ship bound to _England_, from\n_Jamaica_, who promised to speak with the Petitioners, in their Return,\nabout 20 Leagues to Windward of that Island, and let them know what Success\ntheir Petition met with. When this was done, the Pyrates retires to the\nIsland before proposed, with the Ship and Brigantine.\nThis Island (which I have no Name for) lies off the Southwest End of\n_Cuba_, uninhabited, and little frequented. On the East End is a Lagune, so\nnarrow, that a Ship can but just go in, tho' there's from 15 to 22 Foot\nWater, for almost a League up: On both Sides of the Lagune grows red\nMangrove Trees, very thick, that the Entrance of it, as well as the Vessels\nlaying there, is hardly to be seen. In the Middle of the Island are here\nand there a small thick Wood of tall Pines, and other Trees scattered about\nin different Places.\nHere they staid about nine Months, but not having Provision for above two,\nthey were forced to take what the Island afforded, which was Fish of\nseveral Sorts, particularly Turtle, which latter was the chiefest Food they\nlived on, and was found in great Plenty on the Coasts of this Island;\nwhether there might be any wild Hogs, Beef, or other Cattle, common to\nseveral Islands of the _West-Indies_, or that the Pyrates were too idle to\nhunt them, or whether they preferr'd other Provisions to that sort of Diet,\nI know not; but I was informed by them, that for the whole Time they eat\nnot a Bit of any kind of Flesh-Meat, nor Bread; the latter was supply'd by\nRice, of which they had a great Quantity aboard: This was boyl'd and\nsqueez'd dry, and so eat with the Turtle.\nThere are three or four Sorts of these Creatures in the _West-Indies_, the\nlargest of which will weight 150 or 200 Pound Weight or more, but those\nthat were found upon this Island were of the smallest Kind, weighing 10 or\n12 Pounds each, with a fine natural wrought Shell, and beautifully clouded;\nthe Meat sweet and tender, some Part of it eating like Chicken, some like\nVeal, _&c._ so that it was no extraordinary Hardship for them to live upon\nthis Provision alone, since it affords variety of Meats to the Taste, of it\nself. The manner of catching this Fish is very particular; you must\nunderstand, that in the Months of _May, June_ and _July_, they lay their\nEggs in order to hatch their Young, and this three times in a Season, which\nis always in the Sand of the Sea-shore, each laying 80 or 90 Eggs at a\ntime. The Male accompanies the Female, and come ashore in the Night only,\nwhen they must be watch'd, without making any Noise, or having a Light; as\nsoon as they land, the Men that watch for them, turn them on their Backs,\nthen haul them above high Water Mark, and leave them till next Morning,\nwhere they are sure to find them, for they can't turn again, nor move from\nthe Place. It is to be observ'd, that besides their laying time, they come\nashore to feed, but then what's very remarkable in these Creatures, they\nalways resort to different Places to breed, leaving their usual Haunts for\ntwo or three Months, and 'tis thought they eat nothing in all that Season.\nThey pass'd their Time here in Dancing, and other Diversions, agreeable to\nthese sort of Folks; and among the rest, they appointed a Mock Court of\nJudicature to try one another for Pyracy, and he that was a Criminal one\nDay was made Judge another.-- I had an Account given me of one of these\nmerry Tryals, and as it appeared diverting, I shall give the Readers a\nshort Account of it.\nThe Court and Criminals being both appointed, as also Council to plead, the\nJudge got up in a Tree, and had a dirty Taurpaulin hung over his Shoulders;\nthis was done by Way of Robe, with a Thrum Cap on his Head, and a large\nPair of Spectacles upon his Nose: Thus equipp'd, he settled himself in his\nPlace, and abundance of Officers attending him below, with Crows,\nHandspikes, _&c._ instead of Wands, Tipstaves, and such like.-- The\nCriminals were brought out, making a thousand sour Faces; and one who acted\nas Attorney-General opened the Charge against them; their Speeches were\nvery laconick, and their whole Proceedings concise. We shall give it by Way\nof Dialogue.\n_Attorn. Gen._ An't please your Lordship, and you Gentlemen of the Jury,\nhere is a Fellow before you that is a sad Dog, a sad sad Dog; and I humbly\nhope your Lordship will order him to be hang'd out of the Way\nimmediately.--He has committed Pyracy upon the High Seas, and we shall\nprove, an't please your Lordship, that this Fellow, this sad Dog before\nyou, has escap'd a thousand Storms, nay, has got safe ashore when the Ship\nhas been cast away, which was a certain Sign he was not born to be drown'd;\nyet not having the Fear of hanging before his Eyes, he went on robbing and\nravishing Man, Woman and Child, plundering Ships Cargoes fore and aft,\nburning and sinking Ship, Bark and Boat, as if the Devil had been in him.\nBut this is not all, my Lord, he has committed worse Villanies than all\nthese, for we shall prove, that he has been guilty of drinking Small-Beer;\nand your Lordship knows, there never was a sober Fellow but what was a\nRogue.--My Lord, I should have spoke much finer than I do now, but that, as\nyour Lordship knows our Rum is all out, and how should a Man speak good Law\nthat has not drank a Dram.--However, I hope, your Lordship will order the\nFellow to be hang'd.\n_Judge._--Hearkee me, Sirrah,--you lousy, pittiful, ill-look'd Dog; what\nhave you to say why you should not be tuck'd up immediately, and set a\nSun-drying like a Scare-crow?--Are you guilty, or not guilty?\n_Pris._ Not guilty, an't please your Worship.\n_Judge._ Not guilty! say so again, Sirrah, and I'll have you hang'd without\nany Tryal.\n_Pris._ An't please your Worship's Honour, my Lord, I am as honest a poor\nFellow as ever went between Stem and Stern of a Ship, and can hand, reef,\nsteer, and clap two Ends of a Rope together, as well as e'er a He that ever\ncross'd salt Water; but I was taken by one _George Bradley_ [the Name of\nhim that sat as Judge,] a notorious Pyrate, a sad Rogue as ever was\nunhang'd, and he forc'd me, an't please your Honour.\n_Judge._ Answer me, Sirrah,--How will you be try'd?\n_Pris._ By G-- and my Country.\n_Judge._ The Devil you will.--Why then, Gentlemen of the Jury, I think we\nhave nothing to do but to proceed to Judgment.\n_Attor. Gen._ Right, my Lord; for if the Fellow should be suffer'd to\nspeak, he may clear himself, and that's an Affront to the Court.\n_Pris._ Pray, my Lord, I hope your Lordship will consider--\n_Judge._ Consider!--How dare you talk of considering? --Sirrah, Sirrah, I\nnever consider'd in all my Life. --I'll make it Treason to consider.\n_Pris._ But, I hope, your Lordship will hear some Reason.\n_Judge._ D'ye hear how the Scoundrel prates?--What have we to do with\nReason?--I'd have you to know, Raskal, we don't sit here to hear\nReason;--we go according to Law.--Is our Dinner ready?\n_Attor. Gen._ Yes, my Lord.\n_Judge._ Then heark'ee, you Raskal at the Bar; hear me, Sirrah, hear\nme.--You must suffer, for three Reasons; first, because it is not fit I\nshould sit here as Judge, and no Body be hang'd.--Secondly, you must be\nhang'd, because you have a damn'd hanging Look:--And thirdly, you must be\nhang'd, because I am hungry; for know, Sirrah, that 'tis a Custom, that\nwhenever the Judge's Dinner is ready before the Tryal is over, the Prisoner\nis to be hang'd of Course.--There's Law for you, ye Dog.--So take him away\nGoaler.\nThis is the Tryal just as it was related to me; the Design of my setting it\ndown, is only to shew how these Fellows can jest upon Things, the Fear and\nDread of which, should make them tremble.\nThe beginning of _August_ 1722, the Pyrates made ready the Brigantine, and\ncame out to Sea, and beating up to Windward, lay in the Track for their\nCorrespondant in her Voyage to _Jamaica_, and spoke with her; but finding\nnothing was done in _England_ in their Favour, as 'twas expected, they\nreturn'd to their Consorts at the Island with the ill News, and found\nthemselves under a Necessity, as they fancied, to continue that abominable\nCourse of Life they had lately practis'd; in order thereto, they sail'd\nwith the Ship and Brigantine to the Southward, and the next Night, by\nintolerable Neglect, they run the _Morning Star_ upon the _Grand Caimanes_,\nand wreck'd her; the Brigantine seeing the Fate of her Consort, hall'd off\nin Time, and so weather'd the Island. The next Day Captain _Anstis_ put in,\nand found that all, or the greatest part of the Crew, were safe ashore,\nwhereupon she came to an Anchor, in order to fetch them off; and having\nbrought _Fenn_ the Captain, _Philips_ the Carpenter, and a few others\naboard, two Men of War came down upon them, _viz._ the _Hector_ and\n_Adventure_, so that the Brigantine had but just Time to cut their Cable,\nand get to Sea, with one of the Men of War after her, keeping within\nGun-shot for several Hours. _Anstis_ and his Crew were now under the\ngreatest Consternation imaginable, finding the Gale freshen, and the Man of\nWar gaining Ground upon them, so that, in all Probability, they must have\nbeen Prisoners in two Hours more; but it pleased God to give them a little\nlonger Time, the Wind dying away, the Pyrates got out their Oars, and row'd\nfor their Lives, and thereby got clear of their Enemy.\nThe _Hector_ landed her Men upon the Island, and took 40 of the _Morning\nStar_'s Crew, without any Resistance made by them; but on the contrary,\nalledging, they were forc'd Men, and that they were glad of this\nOpportunity to escape from the Pyrates; the rest hid themselves in the\nWoods, and could not be found. _George Bradley_ the Master, and three more,\nsurrender'd afterwards to a _Burmudas_ Sloop, and were carried to that\nIsland.\nThe Brigantine, after her Escape, sail'd to a small Island near the Bay of\n_Honduras_, to clean and refit, and, in her Way thither, took a _Rhode\nIsland_ Sloop, Captain _Durfey_, Commander, and two or three other Vessels,\nwhich they destroy'd, but brought all the Hands aboard their own.\nWhile she was cleaning, a Scheme was concerted between Captain _Durfey_,\nsome other Prisoners, and two or three of the Pyrates, for to seize some of\nthe Chiefs, and carry off the Brigantine; but the same being discovered\nbefore she was fit for sailing, their Design was prevented: However,\nCaptain _Durfey_, and four or five more, got ashore with some Arms and\nAmmunition; and when the Pyrates Canoe came in for Water, he seiz'd the\nBoat with the Men; upon which _Anstis_ ordered another Boat to be mann'd\nwith 30 Hands and sent ashore, which was accordingly done; but Captain\n_Durfey_, and the Company he had by that Time got together, gave them such\na warm Reception, that they were contented to betake themselves to their\nVessel again.\nAbout the beginning of _December_, 1722, _Anstis_ left this Place and\nreturn'd to the Islands, designing to accumulate all the Power and Strength\nhe could, since there was no looking back. He took in the Cruise a good\nShip, commanded by Captain _Smith_, which he mounted with 24 Guns, and\n_Fenn_, a one handed Man, who commanded the _Morning-Star_ when she was\nlost, went aboard to command her. They cruis'd together, and took a Vessel\nor two, and then went to the _Bahama Islands_, and there met with what they\nwanted, _viz._ a Sloop loaded with Provisions, from _Dublin_, called the\n_Antelope._\nIt was time now to think of some Place to fit up and clean their Frigate\nlately taken, and put her in a Condition to do Business; accordingly they\npitch'd upon the Island of _Tobago_, where they arrived the beginning of\n_April_, 1723, with the _Antelope_ Sloop and her Cargo.\nThey fell to work immediately, got the Guns, Stores, and every Thing else\nout upon the Island, and put the Ship upon the Heel; and just then, as ill\nLuck would have it, came in the _Winchelsea_ Man of War, by Way of Visit,\nwhich put the Marooners into such a Surprize, that they set Fire to the\nShip and Sloop, and fled ashore to the Woods. _Anstis_, in the Brigantine,\nescap'd, by having a light Pair of Heels, but it put his Company into such\na Disorder, that their Government could never be set to rights again; for\nsome of the New-Comers, and those who had been tir'd with the Trade, put an\nEnd to the Reign, by shooting _Tho. Anstis_ in his Hammock, and afterwards\nthe Quarter-Master, and two or three others; the rest submitting, they put\ninto Irons, and surrender'd them up, and the Vessel, at _Curacco_, a\n_Dutch_ Settlement, where they were try'd and hang'd; and those concerned\nin delivering up the Vessel, acquitted.\nBut to return to Captain _Fenn_, he was taken stragling with his Gunner and\nthree more, a Day or two after their Misfortune, by the Man of War's Men,\nand carry'd to _Antegoa_, where they were all executed, and _Fenn_ hang'd\nin Chains. Those who remain'd, staid some Time in the Island, keeping up\nand down in the Woods, with a Hand to look out; at length Providence so\norder'd it, that a small Sloop came into the Harbour, which they all got\naboard of, except two or three Negroes, and those they left behind. They\ndid not think fit to pursue any further Adventures, and therefore\nunanimously resolved to steer for _England_, which they accordingly did,\nand in _October_ last came into _Bristol_ Channel, sunk the Sloop, and\ngetting ashore in the Boat, dispersed themselves to their Abodes.\nCHAP. XI. OF Captain _WORLEY_, And his CREW.\nHIS Reign was but short, but his Beginning somewhat particular,\nsetting out in a small open Boat, with eight others, from _New-York._ This\nwas as resolute a Crew as ever went upon this Account: They took with them\na few Biscuits, and a dry'd Tongue or two, a little Cag of Water, half a\ndozen old Muskets and Ammunition accordingly. Thus provided, they left\n_New-York_ the latter End of _September_ 1718, but it cannot be supposed\nthat such a Man of War as this, could undertake any considerable Voyage, or\nattempt any extraordinary Enterprize; so they stood down the Coast, till\nthey came to _Delaware_ River, which is about 150 Miles distant, and not\nmeeting with any Thing in their Way, they turn'd up the same River as high\nas _Newcastle_, near which Place they fell upon a Shallop belonging to\n_George Grant_, who was bringing Houshold Goods, Plate, _&c._ from\n_Oppoquenimi_ to _Philadelphia_; they made Prize of the most valuable Part\nof them, and let the Shallop go. This Fact could not come under the Article\nof Pyracy, it not being committed _super altum Mare_, upon the High-Sea,\ntherefore was a simple Robbery only; but they did not stand for a Point of\nLaw in the Case, but easing the Shallop Man of his Lading, the bold\nAdventurers went down the River again.\nThe Shallop came straight to _Philadelphia_, and brought the ill News\nthither, which so alarm'd the Government, as if War had been declared\nagainst them; Expresses were sent to _New-York_, and other Places, and\nseveral Vessels fitted out against this powerful Rover, but to no manner of\nPurpose; for after several Days Cruize, they all return'd, without so much\nas hearing what became of the Robbers.\n_Worley_ and his Crew, in going down the River, met with a Sloop of\n_Philadelphia_, belonging to a Mulatto, whom they call'd _Black Robbin_;\nthey quitted their Boat for this Sloop, taking one of _Black Robin_'s Men\nalong with them, as they had also done from _George Grant_, besides two\nNegroes, which encreased the Company one Third. A Day or two after, they\ntook another Sloop belonging to _Hull_, homeward bound, which was somewhat\nfitter for their Purpose; they found aboard her, Provisions and\nNecessaries, which they stood in need of, and enabled them to prosecute\ntheir Design, in a manner more suitable to their Wishes.\nUpon the Success of these Rovers, the Governor issued out a Proclamation,\nfor the apprehending and taking all Pyrates, who had refused or neglected\nto surrender themselves, by the Time limited in his Majesty's Proclamation\nof Pardon; and thereupon, ordered his Majesty's Ship _Phoenix_, of 20 Guns,\nwhich lay at _Sandy Hook_, to Sea, to cruize upon this Pyrate, and secure\nthe Trade to that, and the adjoining Colonies.\nIn all probability, the taking this Sloop sav'd their Bacons, for this\nTime, tho' they fell into the Trap presently afterwards; for they finding\nthemselves in tolerable good Condition, having a Vessel newly cleaned, with\nProvisions, _&c._ they stood off to Sea, and so missed the _Phoenix_, who\nexpected them to be still on the Coast.\nAbout six Weeks afterwards they returned, having taken both a Sloop and a\nBrigantine, among the _Bahama_ Islands; the former they sunk, and the other\nthey let go: The Sloop belonged to _New-York_, and they thought the sinking\nof her good Policy, to prevent her returning to tell Tales at Home.\n_Worley_ had by this Time encreased his Company to about five and twenty\nMen, had six Guns mounted, and small Arms as many as were necessary for\nthem, and seem'd to be in a good thriving sort of a Way. He made a black\nEnsign, with a white Death's Head in the Middle of it, and other Colours\nsuitable to it. They all signed Articles, and bound themselves under a\nsolemn Oath, to take no Quarters, but to stand by one another to the last\nMan, which was rashly fulfill'd a little afterwards.\nFor going into an Inlet in _North-Carolina_, to clean, the Governor\nreceived Information of it, and fitted out two Sloops, one of eight Guns,\nand the other with six, and about seventy Men between them. _Worley_ had\nclean'd his Sloop, and sail'd before the _Carolina_ Sloops reached the\nPlace, and steered to the Northward; but the Sloops just mentioned,\npursuing the same Course, came in sight of _Worley_, as he was cruising off\nthe Capes of _Virginia_, and being in the Offin, he stood in as soon as he\nsaw the Sloops, intending thereby to have cut them off from _James_ River;\nfor he verily believed they had been bound thither, not imagining, in the\nleast, they were in Pursuit of him.\nThe two Sloops standing towards the Capes at the same Time, and _Worley_\nhoisting of his black Flag, the Inhabitants of _James_ Town were in the\nutmost Consternation, thinking that all three had been Pyrates, and that\ntheir Design had been upon them; so that all the Ships and Vessels that\nwere in the Road, or in the Rivers up the Bay, had Orders immediately to\nhale in to the Shore, for their Security, or else to prepare for their\nDefence, if they thought themselves in a Condition to fight. Soon after two\nBoats, which were sent out to get Intelligence, came crowding in, and\nbrought an Account, that one of the Pyrates was in the Bay, being a small\nSloop of six Guns. The Governor expecting the rest would have followed, and\naltogether make some Attempt to land, for the sake of Plunder, beat to\nArms, and collected all the Force that could be got together, to oppose\nthem; he ordered all the Guns out of the Ships, to make a Platform, and, in\nshort, put the whole Colony in a warlike Posture; but was very much\nsurprised at last, to see all the supposed Pyrates fighting with one\nanother.\nThe Truth of the Matter is, _Worley_ gained the Bay, thinking to make sure\nof his two Prizes, by keeping them from coming in; but by the hoisting of\nthe King's Colours, and firing a Gun, he quickly was sensible of his\nMistake, and too soon perceived that the Tables were turned upon him; that\ninstead of keeping them out, he found himself, by a superiour Force kept\nin. When the Pyrates saw how Things went, they resolutely prepar'd\nthemselves for a desperate Defence; and tho' three to one odds, _Worley_\nand his Crew determined to fight to the last Gasp, and receive no Quarters,\nagreeably to what they had before sworn; so that they must either Dye or\nConquer upon the Spot.\nThe _Carolina_ Men gave the Pyrate a Broadside, and then Boarded him, one\nSloop getting upon his Quarter, and the other on his Bow; _Worley_ and the\nCrew, drew up upon the Deck, and fought very obstinately, Hand to Hand, so\nthat in a few Minutes, abundance of Men lay weltering in their Gore; the\nPyrates proved as good as their Words, not a Man of them cry'd out for\nQuarter, nor would accept of such, when offered, but were all killed except\nthe Captain and another Man, and those very much wounded, whom they\nreserved for the Gallows. They were brought ashore in Irons, and the next\nDay, which was the 17th of _February_ 1718-19, they were both hanged up,\nfor fear they should dye, and evade the Punishment as was thought due to\ntheir Crimes.\nCHAP. XII. OF Capt. _George Lowther_, And his CREW.\nG_Eorge Lowther_ sailed out of the River of _Thames_, in one of the\nRoyal _African_ Company's Ships, call'd the _Gambia Castle_, of 16 Guns and\n30 Men, _Charles Russel_ Commander; of which Ship, the said _Lowther_ was\nsecond Mate. Aboard of the same Ship, was a certain Number of Soldiers,\ncommanded by one _John Massey_, who were to be carried to one of the\nCompany's Settlements, on the River of _Gambia_, to Garrison a Fort, which\nwas sometime ago taken and destroy'd by Captain _Davis_ the Pyrate.\nIn _May_ 1721, the _Gambia Castle_ came safe to her Port in _Africa_, and\nlanded Captain _Massey_ and his Men on _James_'s Island, where he was to\nCommand under the Governor, Colonel _Whitney_, who arrived there at the\nsame Time, in another Ship: And here, by a fatal Misunderstanding, between\nthe military Folks and the Trading People, the Fort and Garrison not only\ncame to be lost again to the Company, but a fine Galley well provided, and\nworth 10000 _l._ turned against her Masters.\nThe Names of Governor and Captain sounded great, but when the Gentlemen\nfound that the Power that generally goes along with those Titles, was\noversway'd and born down by the Merchants and Factors, (mechanick Fellows\nas they thought them) they grew very impatient and disatisfy'd, especially\n_Massey_, who was very loud in his Complaints against them, particularly at\nthe small Allowance of Provisions to him and his Men; for the Garrison and\nGovernor too, were victualled by the Merchants, which was no small\nGrievance and Mortification to them. And as the want of eating was the only\nThing that made the great _Sancho_ quit his Government, so did it here rend\nand tare their's to Pieces: For _Massey_ told them, _that he did not come\nthere to be a_ Guiney _Slave, and that he had promised his Men good\nTreatment, and Provisions fitting for Soldiers: That as he had the Care of\nso many of his Majesty's Subjects, if they would not provide for them in a\nhandsome Manner, he should take suitable Measures for the Preservation of\nso many of his Countrymen and Companions._\nThe Governor at this Time was very ill of a Fever, and, for the better\nAccomodation in his Sickness, was carried aboard the Ship _Gambia Castle_,\nwhere he continued for about three Weeks, and therefore could have little\nto say in this Dispute, tho' he resolved not to stay in a Place, where\nthere was so little Occasion for him, and where his Power was so confin'd.\nThe Merchants had certainly Orders from the Company, to issue the\nProvisions out to the Garrison, and the same is done along the whole Coast;\nbut whether they had cut them short of the Allowance that was appointed\nthem, I can't say, but if they did, then is the Loss of the Ship and\nGarrison owing principally to their ill Conduct.\nHowever, an Accident that happened on Board the Ship, did not a little\ncontribute to this Misfortune, which was a Pique that the Captain of her\ntook against his second Mate, _George Lowther_, the Man who is the Subject\nof this short History; and who losing his Favour, found Means to ingratiate\nhimself into the good liking of the common Sailors, insomuch that when\nCaptain _Russel_ ordered him to be punish'd, the Men took up Handspikes,\nand threat'ned to knock that Man down, that offered to lay hold of the\nMate. This served but to widen the Differences between him and the Captain,\nand more firmly attach'd _Lowther_ to the Ship's Company, the greatest Part\nof which, he found ripe for any Mischief in the World.\nCaptain _Massey_ was no wit the better reconciled to the Place, by a longer\nContinuance, nor to the Usage he met with there, and having often\nOpportunities of conversing with _Lowther_, with whom he had contracted an\nIntimacy in the Voyage; they aggravated one another's Grievances to such a\nheight, that they resolved upon Measures to curb the Power that controul'd\nthem, and to provide for themselves after another Manner.\nWhen the Governor recover'd of his Fever, he went ashore to the Island, but\ntook no Notice of _Massey_'s Behaviour, tho' it was such as might give\nSuspicion of what he designed; and _Lowther_, and the common Sailors, who\nwere in the Secret of Affairs, grew insolent and bold, even refusing to\nobey when commanded to their Duty by Captain _Russel_ and the chief Mate.\nThe Captain seeing how Things were carried, goes ashore early one Morning\nto the Governor and Factory, in order to hold a Council, which _Lowther_\napprehending, was in order to prevent his Design, sent a Letter in the same\nBoat to _Massey_, intimating it to him, and _that he should repair on\nBoard, for it was high Time to put their Project in Execution._\nAs soon as _Massey_ received this Letter, he went to the Soldiers at the\n_Barracks_, and said to them, and others, _You that have a Mind to go to_\nEngland, _now is your Time_; and they generally consenting, _Massey_ went\nto the Store-Room, burst open the Door, set two Centinels upon it, and\nordered that no Body should come near it; then he went to the Governor's\nApartment, and took his Bed, Baggage, Plate and Furniture, (in Expectation\nthat the Governor himself, as he had promised _Massey_, would have gone on\nBoard, which he afterwards refused, by Reason, as he said, he believed they\nwere going a-pyrating; which at first, whatever _Lowther_ designed,\n_Massey_ certainly proposed only the going to _England_;) when this was\ndone, he sent the Boat off to the chief Mate, with this Message, _That he\nshould get the Guns ready, for that the King of_ Barro [a Negro Kingdom\nnear the Royal _African_ Settlement] _would come aboard to Dinner._ But\n_Lowther_ understanding best, the meaning of those Orders, he confined the\nchief Mate, shotted the Guns, and put the Ship in a Condition for sailing.\nIn the Afternoon _Massey_ came on Board with the Governor's Son, having\nsent off all the Provisions of the Island, and eleven Pipes of Wine,\nleaving only two half Pipes behind in the Store-House, and dismounted all\nthe Guns of the Fort.\nIn the Afternoon they weigh'd one Anchor, but fearing to be too late to get\nout of the River, they slipp'd the other, and so fell down; in doing of\nwhich, they run the Ship a-ground. _Massey_ shew'd himself a Soldier upon\nthis Accident, for as soon as the Misfortune happen'd, he left the Ship\nwith about sixteen Hands, and rows directly to the Fort, remounts the Guns,\nand keeps Garrison there all the Night, while the Ship was ashore; and\nobliged some of the Factory to assist in getting her clear. In the mean\nwhile, _Russel_ came off, but not being suffered to come on Board, he\ncall'd to _Lowther_, and offered him and the Company, whatever Terms they\nwould be pleased to accept of, upon Condition of surrendering up the Ship,\nwhich had no Effect upon any of them. In the Morning they got her afloat,\nand _Massey_ and his Men came aboard, after having nailed up and dismounted\nall the Cannon of the Fort: They put the Governor's Son, and two or three\nothers ashore, who were not willing to go without the Governor, and sail'd\nout of the River, having exchanged several Shot with the _Martha, Otter,\n&c._ that lay there, without doing Execution on either Side.\nWhen the Ship came out to Sea, _Lowther_ called up all the Company, and\ntold them, _it was the greatest Folly imaginable, to think of returning to_\nEngland, _for what they had already done, could not be justifyed upon any\nPretence whatsoever, but would be look'd upon, in the Eye of the Law, a\ncapital Offence, and that none of them were in a Condition to withstand the\nAttacks of such powerful Adversaries, as they would meet with at Home; for\nhis Part he was determined not to run such a Hazard, and therefore if his\nProposal was not agreed to, he desired to be set a Shore in some Place of\nSafety: That they had a good Ship under them, a parcel of brave Follows in\nher, that it was not their Business to starve, or be made Slaves; and\ntherefore, if they were all of his Mind, they should seek their Fortunes\nupon the Seas, as other Adventurers had done before them._ They one and all\ncame into the Measures, knocked down the Cabins, made the Ship flush fore\nand aft, prepared black Colours, new named her, _the Delivery_, having\nabout 50 Hands and 16 Guns, and the following short Articles were drawn up,\nsigned and sworn to upon the Bible.\nThe Articles of Captain _George Lowther_, and his Company.\n1. _THE Captain is to have two full Shares; the Master is to have one Share\nand a half; the Doctor, Mate, Gunner, and Boatswain, one Share and a\nquarter._\n2. _He that shall be found Guilty of taking up any unlawful Weapon on Board\nthe Privateer, or any Prize, by us taken, so as to strike or abuse one\nanother, in any regard, shall suffer what Punishment the Captain and\nMajority of the Company shall think fit._\n3. _He that shall be found Guilty of Cowardize, in the Time of Engagement,\nshall suffer what Punishment the Captain and Majority shall think fit._\n4. _If any Gold, Jewels, Silver_, &c. _be found on Board of any Prize or\nPrizes, to the Value of a Piece of Eight, and the Finder do not deliver it\nto the Quarter-Master, in the Space of_ 24 _Hours, shall suffer what\nPunishment the Captain and Majority shall think fit._\n5. _He that is found Guilty of Gaming, or Defrauding another to the Value\nof a Shilling, shall suffer what Punishment the Captain and Majority of the\nCompany shall think fit._\n6. _He that shall have the Misfortune to lose a Limb, in Time of\nEngagement, shall have the Sum of one hundred and fifty Pounds Sterling,\nand remain with the Company as long as he shall think fit._\n7. _Good Quarters to be given when call'd for._\n8. _He that sees a Sail first, shall have the best Pistol, or Small-Arm, on\nBoard her._\nIt was the 13th of _June_, that _Lowther_ left the Settlement, and on the\n20th, being then within twenty Leagues of _Barbadoes_, he came up with a\nBrigantine, belonging to _Boston_, called the _Charles, James Douglass_\nMaster, which they plundered in a pyratical Manner, and let the Vessel go;\nbut least she should meet with any of the Station Ships, and so give\nInformation of the Robbery, _in Terrorem_, to prevent a Pursuit, _Lowther_\ncontrived a sort of a Certificate, which he directed the Master to shew to\ntheir Consort, if they should meet with her; and upon Sight of it the\nBrigantine would pass unmolested: This Consort, he pretended, was a 40 Gun\nShip, and cruising therabouts.\nAfter this the _Delivery_ proceeded to _Hispaniola_; near the West End of\nthe Island she met with a _French_ Sloop loaden with Wine and Brandy;\naboard of this Vessel went Captain _Massey_, as a Merchant, and ask'd the\nPrice of one Thing, and then another, bidding Money for the greatest Part\nof the Cargo; but after he had trifled a while, he whisper'd a Secret in\nthe _French_ Man's Ear, _viz. That they must have it all without Money.\nMonsieur_ presently understood his Meaning, and unwillingly agreed to the\nBargain. They took out of her thirty Casks of Brandy, five Hogsheads of\nWine, several Pieces of Chintzes, and other valuable Goods, and about 70\n_l. English_, in Money; of which _Lowther_ generously return'd five Pounds\nback to the _French_ Master for his Civilities.\nBut as all Constitutions grow old, and thereby shake and totter, so did our\nCommonwealth in about a Month of its Age, feel Commotions and intestine\nDisturbances, by the Divisions of its Members, which had near hand\nterminated in its Destruction; these civil Discords were owing to the\nfollowing Occasion. Captain _Massey_ had been a Soldier almost from his\nInfancy, but was but very indifferently acquainted with Maritime Affairs,\nand having an enterprizing Soul, nothing would satisfy him, but he must be\ndoing Business in his own Way, therefore he required _Lowther_ to let him\nhave thirty Hands to land with, and he would attack the _French_\nSettlements, and bring aboard the Devil and all of Plunder.\n_Lowther_ did all that he could do, and said all that he could say, to\ndisswade _Massey_ from so rash and dangerous an Attempt; pointing out to\nhim the Hazard the Company would run, and the Consequences to them all, if\nhe should not succeed, and the little Likelihood there was to expect\nSuccess from the Undertaking: But 'twas all one for that, _Massey_ would go\nand attack the _French_ Settlements, for any thing _Lowther_ could say\nagainst it; so that he was obliged to propose the Matter to the Company,\namong whom _Massey_ found a few Fellows as resolute as himself; however, a\ngreat Majority being against it, the Affair was over-ruled in Opposition to\nCaptain _Massey_, notwithstanding which, _Massey_ grew fractious,\nquarrelled with _Lowther_, and the Men divided into Parties, some siding\nwith the Land Pyrate, and some with the Sea Rover, and were all ready to\nfall together by the Ears, when the Man at the Mast-head cry'd out, A Sail!\nA Sail! then they gave over the Dispute, set all their Sails, and steered\nafter the Chace. In a few Hours they came up with her, she being a small\nShip from _Jamaica_, bound to _England_; they took what they thought fit\nout of her, and a Hand or two, and then _Lowther_ was for sinking the Ship,\nwith several Passengers that were in her, for what Reason I know not, but\n_Massey_ so that he interposed, prevented their cruel Fate, and the Ship\nsafely arrived afterwards in _England._\nThe next Day they took a small Sloop, an interloping Trader, which they\ndetain'd with her Cargo. All this while _Massey_ was uneasy, and declar'd\nhis Resolution to leave them, and _Lowther_ finding him a very troublesome\nMan to deal with, consented that he should take the Sloop, last made Prize\nof, with what Hands had a Mind to go with him, and shift for himself.\nWhereupon _Massey_, with about ten more Malecontents, goes aboard the\nSloop, and comes away in her directly for _Jamaica._\nNotwithstanding what had passed, Captain _Massey_ puts a bold Face upon the\nMatter, and goes to Sir _Nicholas Laws_, the Governor, informs him of his\nleaving _Lowther_ the Pyrate, owns, _That he assisted in going off with the\nShip, at the River_ Gambia; but said, _'twas to save so many of his\nMajesty's Subjects from perishing, and that his Design was to return to_\nEngland; _but_ Lowther _conspiring with the greater Part of the Company,\nwent a pyrating with the Ship; and that he had taken this Opportunity to\nleave him, and surrender himself and Vessel to his Excellency._\n_Massey_ was very well received by the Governor, and had his Liberty given\nhim, with a Promise of his Favour, and so forth; and, at his own Request,\nhe was sent on Board the _Happy_ Sloop, Captain _Laws_, to cruise off\n_Hispaniola_, for _Lowther_; but not being so fortunate as to meet with\nhim, Captain _Massey_ returned back to _Jamaica_ in the Sloop, and getting\na Certificate, and a Supply of Money, from the Governor, he came home\nPassenger to _England._\nWhen _Massey_ came to Town, he writes a long Letter to the Deputy Governor\nand Directors of the _African_ Company, wherein he imprudently relates the\nwhole Transactions of his Voyage, the going off with the Ship, and the Acts\nof Pyracy he had committed with _Lowther_; but excuses it as Rashness and\nInadvertency in himself, occasioned by his being ill used, contrary to the\nPromises that had been made him, and the Expectations he had entertained;\nbut own'd, that he deserved to dye for what he had done; yet, if they had\nGenerosity enough to forgive him, as he was still capable to do them\nService, as a Soldier, so he should be very ready to do it; but if they\nresolved to prosecute him, he begg'd only this Favour, that he might not be\nhang'd like a Dog, but to die like a Soldier, as he had been bred from his\nChildhood, that is, that he might be shot.\nThis was the Substance of the Letter, which, however, did not produce so\nfavourable an Answer as he hoped for, Word being brought back to him, _That\nhe should be fairly hang'd._ Whereupon, _Massey_ resolved not to be out of\nthe Way, when he found what important Occasion there was likely to be for\nhim, but takes a Lodging in _Aldersgate-Street_, the next Day went to the\nLord Chief Justice's Chambers, and enquired, if my Lord had granted a\nWarrant against Captain _John Massey_, for Pyracy: But being told by the\nClerks, that they knew of no such Thing; he informed them, he was the Man,\nthat my Lord would soon be apply'd to for that Purpose, and the Officer\nmight come to him at such a Place, where he lodg'd: They took the\nDirections in Writing, and, in a few Days, a Warrant being issued, the\nTipstaff went directly, by his own Information, and apprehended him,\nwithout any other Trouble, than walking to his Lodging.\nThere was then no Person in Town to charge him with any Fact, upon which he\ncould be committed; nor could the Letter be proved to be of his\nHand-Writing, so that they had been obliged to let him go again, if he had\nnot helped his Accusers out at Pinch: The Magistrate was reduced to the\nputting of this Question to him, _Did you write this Letter?_ He answered,\n_He did_: And not only that, but confessed all the Contents of it; upon\nwhich, he was committed to _Newgate_, but was afterwards admitted to a\nhundred Pounds Bail, or thereabouts.\nOn the 5th of _July_ 1723, he was brought to his Tryal, at a Court of\nAdmiralty held at the _Old-Baily_, when Captain _Russel_, Governor\n_Whitney_'s Son, and others, appeared as Evidences, by whom the Indictment\nwas plainly proved against him; which, if it had not been done, the Captain\nwas of such an heroick Spirit, that he would have deny'd nothing; for\ninstead of making a Defence, he only entertained the Court with a long\nNarrative of his Expedition, from the first setting out, to his Return to\n_England_, mentioning two Acts of Pyracy committed by him, which he was not\ncharged with, often challenging the Evidences to contradict him, if in any\nThing he related the least Syllable of an Untruth; and instead of denying\nthe Crimes set forth in the Indictment, he charged himself with various\nCircumstances, which fixed the Facts more home upon him. Upon the whole,\nthe Captain was found Guilty, received Sentence of Death, and was executed\nthree Weeks after, at _Execution-Dock._\nWe return now to _Lowther_, whom we left cruising off _Hispaniola_, from\nwhence he plyed to Windward, and, near _Porto Rico_, chased two Sail, and\nspoke with them; they proving to be a small _Bristol_ Ship, commanded by\nCaptain _Smith_, and a _Spanish_ Pyrate, who had made Prize of the said\nShip. _Lowther_ examined into the _Spaniard_'s Authority for taking an\n_English_ Vessel, and threat'ned to put every Man of them to death, for so\ndoing; so that the _Spaniards_ fancied themselves to be in a very pittiful\nCondition, till Matters cleared up, and they found their Masters as great\nRogues as themselves, from whom some Mercy might be expected, in regard to\nthe near Relation they stood with them, as to their Profession; in short,\n_Lowther_ first rifled, and then burnt both the Ships, sending the\n_Spaniards_ away in their Launch, and turning all the _English_ Sailors\ninto Pyrates.\nAfter a few Days Cruise, _Lowther_ took a small Sloop belonging to St.\n_Christophers_, which they mann'd and carried along with them to a small\nIsland, where they cleaned, and stay'd some Time to take their Diversions,\nwhich consisted in unheard of Debaucheries, with drinking, swearing and\nrioting, in which there seemed to be a kind of Emulation among them,\nresembling rather Devils than Men, striving who should out do one another\nin new invented Oaths and Execrations.\nThey all got aboard about _Christmas_, observing neither Times nor Seasons,\nfor perpetrating their villainous Actions, and sailed towards the Bay of\n_Honduras_; but stopping at the _Grand Caimanes_ for Water, they met with a\nsmall Vessel with 13 Hands, in the same honourable Employment with\nthemselves; the Captain of this Gang was one _Edward Lowe_, whom we shall\nparticularly discourse of in a Chapter by it self: _Lowther_ received them\nas Friends, and treated them with all imaginable Respect, inviting them, as\nthey were few in Number, and in no Condition to pursue the Account, (as\nthey called it) to join their Strength together, which on the Consideration\naforesaid, was accepted of, _Lowther_ still continuing Commander, and\n_Lowe_ was made Lieutenant: The Vessel the new Pyrates came out of, they\nsunk, and the Confederates proceed on the Voyage as _Lowther_ before\nintended.\nThe 10th of _January_, the Pyrates came into the Bay, and fell upon a Ship\nof 200 Tun, called the _Greyhound, Benjamin Edwards_ Commander, belonging\nto _Boston. Lowther_ hoisted his pyratical Colours, and fired a Gun for the\n_Greyhound_ to bring to, which she refusing, the _Happy Delivery_ (the Name\nof the Pyrate) edg'd down, and gave her a Broadside, which was returned by\nCaptain _Edwards_ very bravely, and the Engagement held for an Hour; but\nCaptain _Edwards_, finding the Pyrate too strong for him, and fearing the\nConsequence of too obstinate a Resistance against those lawless Fellows,\nordered his Ensign to be struck. The Pyrates Boat came aboard, and not only\nrifled the Ship, but whipp'd, beat, and cut the Men in a cruel Manner,\nturned them aboard their own Ship, and then set Fire to their's.\nIn cruising about the Bay, they met and took several other Vessels without\nany Resistance, _viz._ two Brigantines of _Boston_ in _New-England_, one of\nwhich they burnt, and sunk the other; a Sloop belonging to _Connecticut_,\nCaptain _Airs_, which they also burnt; a Sloop of _Jamaica_, Captain\n_Hamilton_, they took for their own Use; a Sloop of _Virginia_ they\nunladed, and was so generous as to give her back to the Master that own'd\nher. They took a Sloop of 100 Ton, belonging to _Rhode Island_, which they\nwere pleased to keep, and mount with eight Carriage, and ten Swivel Guns.\nWith this little Fleet, _viz._ Admiral _Lowther_, in the _Happy Delivery_;\nCaptain _Low_, in the _Rhode Island_ Sloop; Captain _Harris_, (who was\nsecond Mate in the _Greyhound_ when taken,) in _Hamilton_'s Sloop, and the\nlittle Sloop formerly mentioned, serving as a Tender; I say, with this\nFleet the Pyrates left the Bay, and came to _Port Mayo_ in the Gulph of\n_Matique_, and there made Preparations to careen; they carried ashore all\ntheir Sails, and made Tents by the Water-Side, wherein they laid their\nPlunder, Stores, _&c._ and fell to work; and at the Time that the Ships\nwere upon the Heel, and the good Folks employ'd in heaving down, scrubing,\ntallowing, and so forth; of a sudden came down a considerable Body of the\nNatives, and attack'd the Pyrates unprepared. As they were in no Condition\nto defend themselves, they fled to their Sloops, leaving them Masters of\nthe Field and the Spoil thereof, which was of great Value, and set Fire to\nthe _Happy Delivery_, their capital Ship.\n_Lowther_ made the best Provision he could in the largest Sloop, which he\ncalled the _Ranger_, having ten Guns and eight Swivels, and she sailing\nbest, the Company went all aboard of her, and left the other at Sea.\nProvisions was now very short, which, with the late Loss, put them in a\nconfounded ill Humour, insomuch that they were every now and then going\ntogether by the Ears, laying the Blame of their ill Conduct sometimes upon\none, then upon another.\nThe Beginning of _May_ 1722, they got to the _West-Indies_, and near the\nIsland of _Diseada_, took a Brigantine, one _Payne_ Master, that afforded\nthem what they stood in need of, which put them in better Temper, and\nBusiness seemed to go on well again. After they had pretty well plundered\nthe Brigantine, they sent her to the Bottom. They went into the Island and\nwatered, and then stood to the Northward, intending to visit the Main-Coast\nof _America._\nIn the Latitude of 38, they took a Brigantine called the _Rebecca_ of\n_Boston_, Captain _Smith_, bound thither from St. _Christophers._ At the\ntaking of this Vessel, the Crews divided; for _Low_, whom _Lowther_ joined\nat the _Grand Caimanes_, proving always a very unruly Member of the\nCommonwealth, always aspiring, and never satisfy'd with the Proceedings of\nthe Commander; he thought it the safest Way to get rid of him, upon any\nTerms; and according to the Vote of the Company, they parted the Bear Skin\nbetween them: _Low_ with 44 Hands went aboard the Brigantine, and _Lowther_\nwith the same Number stay'd in the Sloop, and separated that very Night,\nbeing the 28th of _May_ 1722.\n_Lowther_ proceeding on his Way to the Main-Coast, took three or four\nfishing Vessels off _New-York_, which was no great Booty to the Captors.\nThe 3d of _June_, they met with a small _New-England_ Ship, bound home from\n_Barbadoes_, which stood an Attack a small Time, but finding it to no\nPurpose, yielded herself a Prey to the Booters: The Pyrates took out of her\nfourteen Hogsheads of Rum, six Barrels of Sugar, a large Box of _English_\nGoods, several Casks of Loaf Sugar, a considerable Quantity of Pepper, six\nNegroes, besides a Sum of Money and Plate, and then let her go on her\nVoyage.\nThe next Adventure was not so fortunate for them, for coming pretty near\nthe Coast of _South-Carolina_, they met with a Ship just come out, on her\nVoyage to _England; Lowther_ gave her a Gun, and hoisted his pyratical\nColours; but this Ship, which was called the _Amy_, happening to have a\nbrave gallant Man to command her, who was not any ways daunted with that\nterrible Ensign, the black Flag, he instead of striking immediately, as\n'twas expected, let fly a Broadside at the Pyrate. _Lowther_ (not at all\npleased with the Compliment, tho' he put up with it for the present) was\nfor taking Leave; but the _Amy_ getting the Pyrate between her and the\nShore, stood after him to clap him aboard; to prevent which, _Lowther_ run\nthe Sloop a-ground, and landed all the Men with their Arms. Captain\n_Gwatkins_, the Captain of the _Amy_, was obliged to stand off, for fear of\nrunning his own Ship ashore; but at the same Time thought fit for the\npublick Good, to destroy the Enemy; and thereupon went into the Boat, and\nrowed towards the Sloop, in order to set her on Fire; but before he reached\nthe Vessel, a fatal Shot from _Lowther_'s Company ashore, put an End to\ntheir Design and Captain _Gwatkin_'s Life. After this unfortunate Blow, the\nMate returned aboard with the Boat, and not being enclined to pursue them\nany farther, took Charge of the Ship.\n_Lowther_ got off the Sloop after the Departure of the _Amy_, and brought\nall his Men aboard again, but was in a poor shattered Condition, having\nsuffered much in the Engagement, and had a great many Men kill'd and\nwounded: He made Shift to get into an Inlet somewhere in _North-Carolina_,\nwhere he staid a long while before he was able to put to Sea again.\nHe and his Crew laid up all the Winter, and shifted as well as they could\namong the Woods, divided themselves into small Parties, and hunted\ngenerally in the Day Times, killing of black Cattle, Hogs, _&c._ for their\nSubsistance, and in the Night retired to their Tents and Huts, which they\nmade for Lodging; and sometimes when the Weather grew very cold, they would\nstay aboard of their Sloop.\nIn the Spring of the Year 1723, they made Shift to get to Sea, and steered\ntheir Course for _Newfoundland_, and upon the Banks took a Scooner, call'd\nthe _Swift, John Hood_ Master; they found a good Quantity of Provisions\naboard her, which they very much wanted at that Time, and after taking\nthree of their Hands, and plundering her of what they thought fit, they let\nher depart. They took several other Vessels upon the Banks, and in the\nHarbour, but none of any great Account; and then steering for a warmer\nClimate, in _August_ arrived at the _West-Indies._ In their Passage\nthither, they met with a Brigantine, called the _John_ and _Elizabeth,\nRichard Stanny_ Master, bound for _Boston_, which they plundered, took two\nof her Men, and discharged her.\n_Lowther_ cruised a pretty while among the Islands without any\nextraordinary Success, and was reduced to a very small Allowance of\nProvisions, till they had the luck to fall in with a _Martinico_ Man, which\nproved a seasonable Relief to them; and after that, a _Guiney_ Man had the\nill Fortune to become a Prey to the _Rovers_; she was called the\n_Princess_, Captain _Wicksted_ Commander.\nIt was now thought necessary to look out for a Place to clean their Sloop\nin, and prepare for new Adventures: Accordingly the Island of _Blanco_ was\npitched upon for that Purpose, which lies in the Latitude of 11\u00b0 50 m. N.\nabout 30 Leagues from the Main of the _Spanish America_, between the\nIslands of _Margarita_ and _Rocas_, and not far from _Tortuga._ It is a low\neven Island, but healthy and dry, uninhabited, and about two Leagues in\nCircumference, with Plenty of Lignum Vit\u00e6 Trees thereon, growing in Spots,\nwith shrubby Bushes of other Wood about them. There are, besides Turtle,\ngreat Numbers of Guanoes, which is an amphibious Creature like a Lizard,\nbut much larger, the Body of it being as big as a Man's Leg; they are very\ngood to eat, and are much used by the Pyrates that come here: They are of\ndivers Colours, but such as live upon dry Ground, as here at _Blanco_, are\ncommonly yellow. On the N. W. End of this Island, there is a small Cove or\nsandy Bay, all round the rest of the Island is deep Water, and steep close\nto the Island. Here _Lowther_ resorted to, the Beginning of _October_ last,\nunrigged his Sloop, sent his Guns, Sails, Rigging, _&c._ ashore, and put\nhis Vessel upon the Careen. The _Eagle_ Sloop of _Barbadoes_, belonging to\nthe _South-Sea_ Company, with 35 Hands, commanded by _Walter Moore_, coming\nnear this Island, in her Voyage to _Comena_, on the _Spanish_ Continent,\nsaw the said Sloop just careen'd, with her Guns out, and Sails unbent,\nwhich she supposed to be a Pyrate, because it was a Place where Traders did\nnot commonly use, so took the Advantage of attacking her, as she was then\nunprepared; the _Eagle_ having fired a Gun to oblige her to shew her\nColours, the Pyrate hoisted the St. _George_'s Flag at their Topmast-Head,\nas it were to bid Defiance to her; but when they found _Moore_ and his Crew\nresolved to board them in good earnest, the Pyrates cut their Cable and\nhawled their Stern on Shore, which obliged the _Eagle_ to come to an Anchor\na-thwart their Hawse, where she engaged them till they called for Quarter\nand struck; at which Time _Lowther_ and twelve of the Crew made their\nEscape out of the Cabin Window. The Master of the _Eagle_ got the Pyrate\nSloop off, secured her, and went ashore with 25 Hands, in Pursuit of\n_Lowther_ and his Gang; but after five Day's search, they could find but\nfive of them, which they brought aboard, and then proceeded with the Sloop\nand Pyrates to _Comena_ aforesaid, where they soon arrived.\nThe _Spanish_ Governor being informed of this brave Action, condemned the\nSloop to the Captors, and sent a small Sloop with 23 Hands to scower the\nBushes and other Places of the Island of _Blanco_, for the Pyrates that\nremained there, and took four more, with seven small Arms, leaving behind\nthem Captain _Lowther_, three Men, and a little Boy, which they could not\ntake; the above four the _Spaniards_ try'd and condemned to Slavery for\nLife; three to the Gallies, and the other to the Castle of _Arraria._\nThe _Eagle_ Sloop brought all their Prisoners afterwards to St.\n_Christopher_'s, where the following were try'd by a Court of Vice\nAdmiralty, there held _March_ the 11th, 1722, _viz. John Churchill, Edward\nMackdonald, Nicholas Lewis, Richard West, Sam. Levercott, Robert White,\nJohn Shaw, Andrew Hunter, Jonathan Delve, Matthew Freebarn, Henry Watson,\nRoger Grange, Ralph Candor_, and _Robert Willis_; the three last were\nacquitted, the other thirteen were found Guilty, two of which were\nrecommended to Mercy by the Court, and accordingly pardoned; and the rest\nexecuted at that Island, on the 20th of the same Month.\nAs for Captain _Lowther_, it is said that he afterwards shot himself upon\nthat fatal Island, where his Pyracies ended, being found, by some Sloop's\nMen, dead, and a Pistol burst by his Side.\nCHAP. XIII. OF Captain _Edward Low_, And his CREW.\nE_dward Low_ was born in _Westminster_, and had his Education there,\nsuch as it was, for he could neither write or read. Nature seem'd to have\ndesigned him for a Pyrate from his Childhood, for very early he began the\nTrade of plundering, and was wont to raise Contributions among all the Boys\nof _Westminster_; and if any were bold enough to refuse it, a Battle was\nthe Consequence; but _Low_ was so hardy, as well as bold, there was no\ngetting the better of him, so that he robbed the Youths of their Farthings,\nwith Impunity; when he grew bigger he took to Gaming in a low Way, for it\nwas commonly among the Footmen in the _Lobby_ of the House of Commons,\nwhere he used to play the whole Game, (as they term it,) that is, cheat all\nhe could, and those who pretended to dispute it with him, must fight him.\nThe Virtues of some of his Family were equal to his; one of his Brothers\nwas a Youth of Genius, when he was but seven Years old, he used to be\ncarried in a Basket, upon a Porter's Back, into a Crowd, and snatch Hats\nand Wigs: According to the exact Chronology of _Newgate_, he was the first\nwho practised this ingenious Trick. After this, he applied himself to\npicking of Pockets; when he increased in Strength, he attempted greater\nThings, such as House-breaking, _&c._ But after he had run a short Race, he\nhad the Misfortune of ending his Days at _Tyburn_, in Company with _Stephen\nBunce_, and the celebrated _Jack Hall_ the Chimney-Sweeper.\nBut to return to _Ned_, when he came to Man's Estate, at his eldest\nBrother's Desire, he went to Sea with him, and so continued for three or\nfour Years, and then parted; and _Ned_ work'd in a Rigging-House in\n_Boston_ in _New-England_, for a while. About six Years ago, he took a Trip\nhome to _England_, to see his Mother, who is yet Living. His Stay was not\nlong here; but taking Leave of his Friends and Acquaintance, for the last\nTime he should see them; for so he was pleased to say; he returned to\n_Boston_, and work'd a Year or two longer at the Rigging Business. But\nbeing too apt to disagree with his Masters, he left them, and shipp'd\nhimself in a Sloop that was bound to the Bay of _Honduras._\nWhen the Sloop arrived in the Bay, _Ned Low_ was appointed Patron of the\nBoat, which was employ'd in cutting of Logwood, and bringing it aboard to\nlade the Ship; for that is the Commodity they make the Voyage for: In the\nBoat were twelve Men besides _Low_, who all go arm'd, because of the\n_Spaniards_, from whom this Logwood is but little better than stole. It\nhappened that the Boat one Day came aboard just before Dinner was ready,\nand _Low_ desired that they might stay and Dine; but the Captain, being in\na Hurry for his Lading, ordered them a Bottle of Rum, and to take t'other\nTrip, because no Time should be lost: This provoked the Boat's Crew, but\nparticularly _Low_, who takes up a loaded Musquet and fires at the Captain,\nbut missing him, shot another poor Fellow thro' the Head, then put off the\nBoat, and with his twelve Companions goes to Sea: The next Day they took a\nsmall Vessel, and go in her, make a black Flag, and declare War against all\nthe World.\nThey then proceeded to the Island of the _Grand Caimanes_, intending to\nhave fitted up their small Vessel, and prepare themselves as well as their\nCircumstances would permit, for their honourable Employment; but falling in\nCompany with _George Lowther_, another Pyrate there, who paying his\nCompliments to _Low_, as great Folks do to one another when they meet, and\noffering himself as an Ally; _Low_ accepted of the Terms, and so the Treaty\nwas presently sign'd without Plenipo's or any other Formalities.\nWe have already given an Account of their joynt Pyracies, under _Lowther_\nas chief Commander, till the 28th of _May_, 1722, when they took a\nBrigantine of _Boston_, bound thither from St. _Christophers_, at which\nTime they parted, and _Edward Low_ went into the Brigantine, with forty\nfour others, who chose him their Captain: They took with them two Guns,\nfour Swivels, six Quarter-Casks of Powder, Provisions and some Stores, and\nso left _Lowther_ to prosecute his Adventures, with the Men he had left.\nTheir first Adventure in the Brigantine, was on _Sunday_ the 3d Day of\n_June_, when they took a Vessel belonging to _Amboy, John Hance_ Master,\nwhom he rifled of his Provisions, and let go; the same Day he met with a\nSloop, _James Calquhoon_ Master, off of _Rhode Island_, bound into that\nPort, whom he first plundered, and then cut away his Boltsprit, and all his\nRigging, also his Sails from the Yards, and wounded the Master, to prevent\nhis getting in to give Intelligence, and then stood away to the\nSouth-Eastward, with all the Sail he could make, there being then but\nlittle Wind.\n_Low_ judged right in making sail from the Coast, for a longer stay had\nproved fatal to him, for notwithstanding the disabled Condition he had\nrendered the Sloop in, she made shift to get into _Block Island_, at 12\no'Clock that Night, and immediately dispatched a Whale-Boat to _Rhode\nIsland_, which got thither by seven the next Morning, with an Account of\nthe Pyrate, his Force, and what had happened to him: As soon as the\nGovernor had received this Information, he ordered a Drum to beat up for\nVolunteers, and two of the best Sloops then in the Harbour, to be fitted\nout: He gave Commissions to one Captain _John Headland_, and Captain _John\nBrown_, jun. for ten Days; the former had eight Guns and two Swivels, and\nthe latter six Guns, well fitted with small Arms, and in both Sloops 140\nstout Fellows; all this was performed with so much Expedition, that before\nSun-set, they were under Sail, turning out of the Harbour, at the same Time\nthe Pyrate was seen from _Block Island_, which gave great Hopes that the\nSloops would be Masters of her the next Day, which however did not happen,\nfor the Sloops returned into Harbour some Days afterwards, without so much\nas seeing their Enemy.\nAfter this Escape, Captain _Low_, went into Port, upon the Coast, for he\nhad not fresh Water enough to run to the Islands, where he staid a few\nDays, getting Provisions and what Necessaries the Crew wanted, and then\nsailed for Purchase, (as they call it) steering their Course towards\n_Marblehead._\nAbout the 12th of _July_, the Brigantine sailed into the Harbour of Port\n_Rosemary_, and there found thirteen Ships and Vessels, but none of Force,\nat Anchor, they spread their black Flag, and ran in among them; _Low_\ntelling them from the Brigantine, they should have no Quarters if they\nresisted; in the mean Time they mann'd and arm'd their Boat, and took\nPossession of every one of them, plundered them of what they thought fit,\nand converted one to their own Use, _viz._ a Scooner of 80 Tuns, aboard of\nwhich they put 10 Carriage Guns, and 50 Men, and _Low_ himself went\nCaptain, and nam'd her the _Fancy_, making one _Charles Harris_, (who was\nat first forced into their Service out of the _Greyhound_ of _Boston_, by\n_Lowther_, of which Ship _Harris_ was second Mate) Captain of the\nBrigantine: Out of these Vessels they took several Hands, and encreased the\nCompany to 80 Men, who all signed the Articles, some willingly, and a few\nperhaps by Force, and so sailed away from _Marblehead._\nSome Time after this, they met with two Sloops bound for _Boston_, with\nProvisions for the Garrison, and the Scooner coming up first, attacked\nthem, but there happening to be an Officer and some Soldiers on Board, who\ngave them a warm Reception, _Low_ chose to stay till he should be joyned by\nthe Brigantine; in the mean while the Sloops made the best of their Way,\nand the Pyrates gave them Chace two Days, and at last lost sight of them in\na Fog.\nThey now steered for the Leeward Islands, but in their Voyage met with such\na Hurricane of Wind, that the like had not been known; the Sea ran\nMountains high, and seemed to threaten them every Moment with Destruction;\nit was no Time now to look out for Plunder, but to save themselves, if\npossible, from perishing. All Hands were continually employed Night, and\nDay, on Board the Brigantine, and all little enough, for the Waves went\nover her, so that they were forced to keep the pump constantly going,\nbesides baling with Buckets; but finding themselves not able to keep her\nfree, and seeing the utmost Danger before their Eyes, they turn'd to the\nTakle, and hoisted out their Provisions, and other heavy Goods, and threw\nthem over-board, with six of their Guns, so that by lightening the Vessel,\nshe might rise to the Top of the Sea with the Waves: They were also going\nto cut away their Mast; but considering how dangerous it would be, to be\nleft in such a Condition, they resolved to delay it to the last, which was\nPrudence in them to do; for a Ship without Masts or Sails, lies like a Log\nupon the Water, and if attack'd, must fight with Disadvantage, the working\nof her being the most artful Part of the Engagement, because she may\nsometimes bring all her great Guns on one Side, to bear upon her Enemy,\nwhen the disabled Ship can do little or nothing.\nBut to proceed; by their throwing over-board the heavy Goods, the Vessel\nmade considerable less Water, and they could keep it under with the Pump\nonly, which gave them Hopes and new Life; so that instead of cutting all\naway, they took necessary Measures to secure the Mast, by making\nPreventor-Shrowds, _&c._ and then wore and lay too upon the other Tack,\ntill the Storm was over. The Scooner made somewhat better Weather of it, of\nthe two, but was pretty roughly handled notwithstanding, having split her\nMain-sail, sprung her Boltsprit, and cut her Anchors from her Bows. The\nBrigantine by running away to Leeward, when she wore upon the Larboard\nTack, had lost Sight of the Scooner; but not knowing whether she might be\nsafe or not, as soon as the Wind abated, she set her Main-Sail and\nTop-Sail, and made short Trips to Windward; and the next Day had the good\nFortune to come in Sight of their Consort, who, upon a Signal, which the\nother knew, bore down to her, and the Crew were overjoy'd to meet again,\nafter such ill Treatment from the Winds and Seas.\nAfter the Storm, _Low_ got safe to a small Island, one of the Weathermost\nof the _Caribbees_, and there fitted their Vessels, as well as the Place\ncould afford; they got Provisions of the Natives, in exchange for Goods of\ntheir own; and as soon as the Brigantine was ready, 'twas judg'd necessary\nto take a short Cruize, and leave the Scooner in the Harbour till her\nReturn. The Brigantine sail'd out accordingly, and had not been out many\nDays before they met a Ship at Sea, that had lost all her Masts; on Board\nof whom they went, and took from her in Money and Goods, to the Value of\n1000 _l._ and so left her in the Condition they found her: This Ship was\nbound home from _Barbadoes_, but losing her Masts in the late Storm, was\nmaking for _Antegoa_, to refit, where she afterwards arriv'd.\nThe Storm just spoken of, was found to have done incredible Damage in those\nParts of the World; but however, it appear'd to have been more violent at\n_Jamaica_, both to the Island and Shipping, there was such a prodigious\nSwell of the Sea, that several hundred Tuns of Stones and Rocks, were\nthrown over the Wall of the Town of _Port Royal_, and the Town it self was\noverflowed, and above half destroy'd, there being the next Morning five\nFoot Water from one End to the other; the Cannon of Fort _Charles_ were\ndismounted, and some washed into the Sea, and four hundred People lost\ntheir Lives; a more melancholly Sight was scarce ever seen when the Water\nebb'd away, all the Streets being covered with Ruins of Houses, Wrecks of\nVessels, and a great Number of dead Bodies, for forty Sail of Ships, in the\nHarbour, were cast away.\nThe Brigantine return'd to the Island, where she had left the Scooner, who\nbeing ready to sail, it was put to the Vote of the Company, what Voyage to\ntake next; and herein they follow'd the Advice of the Captain, who thought\nit not adviseable to go any farther to Leeward, because of the Men of War\nwho were cruising in their several Stations, which they were not at all\nfond of meeting, and therefore it was agreed to go to the _Azores_, or\nWestern Islands.\nThe latter End of _July, Low_ took a _French_ Ship of 34 Guns, and carried\nher along with him to the _Azores._ He came into St. _Michael_'s Road the\n3d of _August_, and took seven Sail that were lying there, _viz._ the\n_Nostre Dame, Mere de Dieu_, Captain _Roach_ Commander; the _Dove_, Capt.\n_Cox_; the _Rose_ Pink, formerly a Man of War, Capt. _Thompson_; another\n_English_ Ship, Capt. _Chandler_; and three other Vessels. He threatened\nall with present Death who resisted, which struck such a Terror to them,\nthat they yielded themselves up a Prey to the Villains, without firing a\nGun.\nThe Pyrates being in great Want of Water and fresh Provisions, _Low_ sent\nto the Governor of St. _Michael_'s for a Supply, and promised upon that\nCondition to release the Ships he had taken, but otherwise to burn them\nall; which Demand the Governor thought it not prudent to refuse, but sent\nthe Provision he required, upon which he released six of the Ships, (after\nhe had plundered them of what he thought fit,) and the other, _viz._ the\n_Rose_ Pink, was made a Pyrate Ship, which _Low_ himself took the Command\nof.\nThe Pyrates took several of the Guns out of the _French_ Ship, and mounted\nthem aboard the _Rose_, which proved very fit for their Turn, and condemned\nthe former to the Flames. They took all the Crew out of her, but the Cook,\nwho, they said, being a greazy Fellow would fry well in the Fire; so the\npoor Man was bound to the Main-Mast, and burnt in the Ship, to the no small\nDiversion of _Low_ and his _Mirmidons._\n_Low_ ordered the Scooner to lye in the Fare between St. _Michael_'s and\nSt. _Mary_'s, where, about the 20th of _August_, Captain _Carter_ in the\n_Wright_ Galley, had the ill Fortune to come in her Way; and because at\nfirst they shewed Inclinations to defend themselves, and what they had, the\nPyrates cut and mangled them in a barbarous Manner; particularly some\n_Portuguese_ Passengers, two of which being Friers, they triced up at each\nArm of the Fore-Yard, but let them down again before they were quite dead,\nand this they repeated several Times out of Sport.\nAnother _Portuguese_, who was also Captain _Carter_'s Passenger, putting on\na sorrowful Countenance at what he saw acted, one of this vile Crew\nattacked him upon the Deck, saying, _he did not like his Looks_, and\nthereupon gave him one Blow a-cross his Belly with his Cutlash, that cut\nout his Bowels, and he fell down dead without speaking a Word. At the same\nTime another of these Rogues cutting at a Prisoner, missed his Mark, and\nCaptain _Low_ standing in his Way, very opportunely received the Stroke\nupon his under Jaw, which laid the Teeth bare; upon this the Surgeon was\ncalled, who immediately stitched up the Wound, but _Low_ finding fault with\nthe Operation, the Surgeon being tollerably drunk, as it was customary for\nevery Body to be, struck _Low_ such a Blow with his Fist, that broke out\nall the Stitches, and then bid him sew up his Chops himself and be damned,\nso that _Low_ made a very pitiful Figure for some Time after.\nWhen they had plundered Captain _Carter_'s Ship, several of them were for\nburning her, as they had done the _French_ Man, but it was otherwise\nresolved at last; for after they had cut her Cables, Rigging and Sails to\nPieces, they left her to the Mercy of the Sea.\nAfter these Depredations, they steered for the Island of _Madera_, where\nmissing other Booty, they took up with a Fishing-Boat, with two old Men and\na Boy in her, one of which they detained on Board, but sent the other\nashore with a Flag of Truce, demanding a Boat of Water of the Governor, on\nPain of taking away the old Man's Life, whom they threatened to hang at the\nYard-Arm, upon their refusal; but the Thing being complied with, the old\nMan was honourably (as the Pyrates say) discharged, and all the three much\nhandsomer cloathed than when they took them. From this Island they sailed\nto the _Canaries_, but meeting with no Prey there, they continued their\nCourse for the _Cape de Verd_ Islands, and at _Bonavista_, took a Ship\ncalled the _Liverpool Merchant_, Captain _Goulding_, from whom they stole a\ngreat Quantity of Provisions and dry Goods, 300 Gallons of Brandy, two Guns\nand Carriages, a Mast, Yard and Hawsers, besides six of his Men, and then\nwould not let them Trade there, nor at St. _Nicholas_, but obliged Captain\n_Goulding_ to go with his Ship, to the Isle of _May._\nThe Pyrate also took among these Islands, a Ship belonging to _Liverpool,\nScot_ Commander; two _Portuguese_ Sloops bound for _Brasil_; a small\n_English_ Sloop trading there, _James Pease_ Master, bound to _Sancta\nCrux_, and three Sloops from St. _Thomas_ bound to _Curaso_, the Masters\nNames were _Lilly, Staples_ and _Simpkins_, all which they plundered, and\nthen let go about their Business, except one Sloop which they fitted up for\nthe following Purpose.\n_Low_ had heard by one of the above mentioned Ships, that two small Gallies\nwere expected every Day at the _Western Islands, viz._ the _Greyhound_,\nCaptain _Glass_, and the _Joliff_, Captain _Aram_; the former of which was\ndesigned to be fitted for the pyratical Trade to _Brasil_, if Things had\nhappened to their Minds. They mann'd the Sloop, and sent her in Quest of\none or both of these Ships to the _Western Islands_ aforesaid, whilst they\ncarreen'd their Ship _Rose_, at one of the _Cape de Verds_: But now Fortune\nthat had hitherto been so propitious to them, left her Minions, and baffled\nfor the present all their Hopes, for the Sloop missing of their Prey, was\nreduced to great Necessities for want of Provisions and Water, so that they\nventured to go ashore at St. _Michael_'s for a Supply, and pass for a\nTrader; but they play'd their Parts so aukwardly, that they were suspected\nby the Governor to be what they really were, and he was soon put out of\ndoubt by a Visit some _Portuguese_ made them, who happened unluckily to be\nPassengers in Captain _Carter_'s Ship, when _Low_ took her, and knew the\nGentlemen's Faces very well; upon which the whole Crew was conducted into\nthe Castle, where they were provided for as long as they liv'd.\n_Low_, in the mean Time, did not fare quite so ill, but had his intended\nVoyage to _Brasil_ spoil'd, by the oversetting of his Ship, when she was\nupon the Careen, whereby she was lost, so that he was reduc'd to his old\nScooner, which he called the _Fancy_, aboard of which they all went, to the\nNumber of 100, as vile Rogues as ever ended their Lives at _Tyburn._ They\nproceeded now to the _West-Indies_, but before they had gotten far on their\nVoyage, they attack'd a rich _Portuguese_ Ship, call'd the _Nostre Signiora\nde Victoria_, bound home from _Bahia_, and after some Resistance, took her.\n_Low_ tortur'd several of the Men, to make them declare where the Money,\n(which he suppos'd they had on Board) lay, and extorted by that Means, a\nConfession that the Captain had, during the Chace, hung out of the Cabin\nWindow, a Bag with 11,000 Moidores, which, assoon as he was taken, he cut\nthe Rope off, and let it drop into the Sea.\n_Low_, upon hearing what a Prize had escap'd him, rav'd like a Fury, swore\na thousand Oaths, and ordered the Captain's Lips to be cut off, which he\nbroil'd before his Face, and afterwards murthered him and all the Crew,\nbeing thirty two Persons.\nAfter this bloody Action, they continued their Course, till they came to\nthe Northward of all the Islands, and there cruiz'd for about a Month, in\nwhich Time they made Prizes of the following Vessels, _viz._ a Snow from\n_New-York_ to _Curacoa, Robert Leonard_ Master; a Sloop from the Bay, bound\nto _New-York, Craig_ Master; a Snow from _London_ and _Jamaica_, bound to\n_New-York_; and the _Stanhope_ Pink, _Andrew Delbridge_ Master, from\n_Jamaica_ to _Boston_; which last they burnt, because of _Low_'s\nirreconcileable Aversion to _New-England_ Men.\nAfter this Cruize, they went into one of the Islands and clean'd, and then\nsteered for the Bay of _Honduras_, where they arrived about the Middle of\n_March_ 1722-3, and met a Sloop turning out of the said Bay. The Pyrates\nhad hoisted up _Spanish_ Colours, and continued them till they drew near\nthe Sloop, then they hall'd them down, hoisted their black Flag, fired a\nBroadside, and boarded her. This Sloop was a _Spaniard_ of six Guns, and 70\nMen, that came into the Bay that Morning, and meeting there with five\n_English_ Sloops, and a Pink, made Prizes of them all, plundered them, and\nbrought the Masters of the Vessels away Prisoners, for the ransom of the\nLogwood; their Names were _Tuthill, Norton, Newbury, Sprafort, Clark_ and\n_Parrot._ The _Spaniards_ made no Resistance, so that the _English_ Pyrates\nsoon became their Masters and fell to rifling; but finding the\nabove-mentioned People in the Hold, and several _English_ Goods, they\nconsulted _Low_ the Captain thereupon, and without examining any further,\nthe Resolution pass'd to kill all the Company; and the Pyrates, without any\nCeremony, fell Pell-Mell to Execution with their Swords, Cutlashes,\nPoll-Axes and Pistols, cutting, slashing and shooting the poor _Spaniards_\nat a sad Rate. Some of the miserable Creatures jump'd down into the Hold,\nbut could not avoid the Massacre; they met Death every where, for if they\nescaped it from one Hand, they were sure to perish by another; the only\nProspect they had of Life, was to fly from the Rage of those merciless Men,\nand to trust to the more merciful Sea; and accordingly a great many leap'd\nover-board, and swam for the Shore; but _Low_ perceiving it, ordered the\nCanoa to be mann'd, and sent in pursuit of them, by which Means several of\nthe poor unhappy Men were knock'd in the Head in the Water, as they were\nendeavouring to get to Land; however, about 12 of them did reach the Shore,\nbut in a miserable Condition, being very much wounded, and what became of\nthem afterwards was not known, except one, who while the Pyrates were at\ntheir Sports and Pastimes ashore, finding himself very weak and fainting\nwith his Wounds, and not knowing where to go for Help and Relief, in this\nExtremity, he came back to them, and begg'd for God sake, in the most\nearnest Manner possible, that they would give him Quarters; upon which, one\nof the Villains took hold of him, and said, _G-- d--n him, he would give\nhim good Quarters presently_, and made the poor _Spaniard_ kneel down on\nhis Knees, then taking his Fusil, put the Muzzle of it into his Mouth, and\nfired down his Throat. 'Twas thought the rest did not long survive their\nmiserable Condition, and could only prolong their Lives, to add to the\nMisery of them.\nWhen the murdering Work was over, they rumaged the _Spanish_ Pyrate, and\nbrought all the Booty aboard their own Vessels: The six Masters\naforementioned, found in the Hold, they restored to their respective\nVessels: They forced away the Carpenter from the Pink, and then set Fire to\nthe _Spanish_ Sloop, and burnt her; which last Scene concluded the\nDestruction of their Enemy, Ship and Crew.\n_Low_ set the Masters of the Vessels free, but would not suffer them to\nsteer for _Jamaica_, where they were then bound, for fear the Men of War\nshould get Intelligence of them, but forced them all to go to _New-York_,\nthreat'ning them with Death, when they met them again, if they refused to\ncomply with their Demands.\nIn the next Cruize, which was between the Leeward Islands and the Main,\nthey took two Snows, bound from _Jamaica_ to _Liverpool_, and a Snow from\n_Jamaica_ to _London, Bridds_ Master; as also a Ship from _Biddford_ to\n_Jamaica, John Pinkham_ Commander; and two Sloops from _Jamaica_ to\n_Virginia._\nOn the 27th of _May, Low_ and his Consort _Harris_, came off\n_South-Carolina_, and met with three good Ships, _viz._ the _Crown_,\nCaptain _Lovereigne_, the _King William_, the _Carteret_, and a Brigantine,\nwho all came out of _Carolina_ together two Days before. The Pyrates were\nat the Trouble of chacing them, and Captain _Lovereigne_ being the\nsternmost, she fell first a Prey into their Hands; and they spent all the\nDay in coming up with the rest.\nWithin a few Days they took a Ship called the _Amsterdam Merchant_, Captain\n_Willard_, from _Jamaica_, but belonging to _New-England_; as _Low_ let\nnone of that Country depart without some Marks of his Rage, he cut off this\nGentleman's Ears, slit up his Nose, and cut him in several Places of his\nBody, and, after plundering his Ship, let him pursue his Voyage.\nAfter this he took a Sloop bound to _Amboy, William Frazier_, Master, with\nwhom Mr. _Low_ happening to be displeased, he ordered lighted Matches to be\nty'd between the Mens Fingers, which burnt all the Flesh off the Bones;\nthen cut them in several Parts of their Bodies with Knives and Cutlashes;\nafterwards took all their Provisions away, and set some of them ashore in\nan uninhabited Part of the Country.\nThe _Kingston_, Captain _Estwick_, another Ship, one _Burrington_ Master,\ntwo Brigantines from _Carolina_ to _London_; a Sloop from _Virginia_ to\n_Bermudas_; a Ship from _Glasgow_ to _Virginia_; a Scooner from _New-York_\nto _South-Carolina_; a Pink from _Virginia_ to _Dartmouth_, and a Sloop\nfrom _Philadelphia_ to _Surinam_, fell a Prey to these Villains, upon this\nCruize, besides those above-mentioned.\nIt happened that at this Time one of his Majesty's Ships was upon a Cruize,\non this Station, and got Intelligence of some of the mischievous Actions of\nthis Miscreant, by one of the Vessels that had been plundered by him, who\nsteering as directed, came in Sight of the Pyrates by break of Day, on the\n10th of _June_, of all Days in the Year. The Rovers looking out for Prey,\nsoon saw, and gave Chace to the Man of War, which was called the\n_Greyhound_, a Ship of 20 Guns, and 120 Men, rather inferiour in Force to\nthe two Pyrate Vessels: The _Greyhound_ finding them so eager, was in no\ndoubt what they should be, and therefore tack'd and stood from them, giving\nthe Pyrates an Opportunity to chace her for two Hours, till all Things were\nin Readiness for an Engagement, and the Pyrates about Gun-shot off; then\nthe _Greyhound_ tack'd again, and stood towards the two Sloops, one of them\ncalled the _Fancy_, commanded by _Low_ himself, and the other the _Ranger_,\ncommanded by _Harris_, both which hoisted their pyratical Colours, and\nfired each a Gun. When the _Greyhound_ came within Musquet-shot, she halled\nup her Main-sail, and clapp'd close upon a Wind, to keep the Pyrates from\nrunning to Leeward, and then engaged: But when the Rogues found who they\nhad to deal with, they edg'd away under the Man of War's Stern, and the\n_Greyhound_ standing after them, they made a running Fight for about two\nHours; but little Wind happening, the Sloops gained from her, by the help\nof their Oars; upon which the _Greyhound_ left off firing, and turned all\nHands to her own Oars, and at three in the Afternoon came up with them. The\nPyrates haul'd upon a Wind to receive the Man of War, and the Fight was\nimmediately renewed, with a brisk Fire on both Sides, till the _Ranger_'s\nMain-Yard was shot down, and the _Greyhound_ pressing close upon the\ndisabled Sloop, _Low_, in the other, thought fit to bear away and leave his\nConsort a Sacrifice to his Enemy, who (seing the Cowardice and Treachery of\nhis Commadore and Leader, having ten or twelve Men killed and wounded, and\nthat there was no possibility of escaping,) called out for Quarters, and\nsurrendered themselves to Justice, which proved severe enough to them\na-while afterwards.\nThe Conduct of _Low_ was surprizing in this Adventure, because his reputed\nCourage and Boldness, had, hitherto, so possess'd the Minds of all People,\nthat he became a Terror, even to his own Men; but his Behaviour throughout\nthis whole Action, shewed him to be a base cowardly Villain, for had\n_Low_'s Sloop fought half so briskly as _Harris_'s had done, (as they were\nunder a solemn Oath to do,) the Man of War, in my Opinion, could never have\nhurted them.\nThe _Greyhound_ carried in their Prize to _Rhode Island_, to the great Joy\nof the whole Province, tho' it had been more compleat, if the great _LOW_\nhimself had grac'd the Triumph. The Prisoners were strongly secured in a\nGoal, till a Court of Vice-Admiralty could be held for their Tryals, which\nbegun on the 10th of _July_, at _Newport_, and continued three Days. The\nCourt was made up of the following Gentlemen.\n_William Dummer_, Esq; Lieutenant Governor of the _Massachusets_,\nPresident. _Nathaniel Paine_, Esq; _Addington Davonport_, Esq; _Thomas\nFitch_, Esq; _Spencer Phipps_, Esq; _John Lechmere_, Esq; Surveyor-General.\n_John Valentine_, Esq; Advocate-General. _Samuel Cranston_, Governor of\n_Rhode-Island._ _John Menzies_, Esq; Judge of the Admiralty, _Richard\nWard_, Esq; Register. Mr. _Jahleel Brinton_, Provost-Marshal.\n_Robert Auchmuta_, Esq; was assigned, by the Court, Council for the\nPrisoners here under mention'd.\nPrisoners Names.            Ages.  Places of Birth.\nCharles Harris, Captain      25    London.\nWilliam Blads                28    Rhode-Island.\nDaniel Hide                  23    Virginia.\nThomas Powel, jun.           21    Connecticut N. E.\nStephen Mundon               20    London.\nThomas Huggit                30    London.\nWilliam Read                 35    Londonderry, Ireland.\nPeter Kneeves                32    Exeter in Devon.\nJames Brinkly                28    Suffolk in England.\nJoseph Sound                 28    City of Westminster.\nWilliam Shutfield            40    Lancafter in England.\nEdward Eaton                 38    Wrexham in Wales.\nJohn Brown                   29    County of Durham.\nEdward Lawson                20    Isle of Man.\nJohn Tomkins                 23    Gloucestershire.\nJohn Fitzgerrald             21    Limerick in Ireland.\nAbraham Lacy                 21    Devonshire.\nThomas Linister              21    Lancashire.\nFrancis Leyton               39    New-York.\nJohn Waters, Quart.-Mr.      35    County of Devon.\nWilliam Jones                28    London.\nCharles Church               21    St. Margaret's, Westm.\nThese 25 were found guilty, and executed the 19th of _July_, 1723,\nnear _Newport_ in _Rhode-Island._\nJohn Brown            17   Liverpoole.\nPatrick Cunningham    25   -- -- --\nThese two were found guilty, but respited for one Year, and\nrecommended to the King's Favour.\nJohn Wilson            23      New-London County\nHenry Barnes           22      Barbadoes.\nThomas Jones           17      Flur in Wales.\nJoseph Switzer         24      Boston in New-England.\nThomas Mumper Indian.          Mather's Vineyard N. E.\nJohn Hincher, Doctor   22      Near Edinburgh, Scot.\nThese eight were found Not Guilty.\nThe destroying this Pyrate was look'd upon by the Province, to be of such a\nsignal Service to the Publick, and particular Advantage to the Colony of\n_New-York_, that it was thought necessary to make some handsome\nAcknowledgement to Captain _Peter Solgard_ for it; and therefore it was\nresolved, in an Assembly of the Common-Council, to compliment him with the\nFreedom of their Corporation. The Resolution, together with the Preamble of\nthe Captain's Freedom, being curious in their Kind, I subjoin them for the\nSatisfaction of the Reader.\nResolution of the Mayor and Common-Council of the City of _New-York_,\nat a Common-Council held at the City Hall of the said City, on _Thursday_\nthe 25th of _July, Anno. Dom._ 1723.\nPresent _Robert Walter_, Esq; Mayor.\n   _City of_ New-York, _ss._\nT_HIS Court having taken into their Consideration the great Service\nlately done to this Province in particular, as well as to all other his\nMajesty's good Subjects in general, by Captain_ Peter Solgard, _Commander\nof his Majesty's Ship the_ Greyhound, _the Station Ship of the Province,\nwho lately in a Cruize upon this Coast, in due Execution and Discharge of\nhis Duty, upon Intelligence given him, sought for, pursued and engaged two\nPyrate Sloops, commanded by one_ Low, _(a notorious and inhumane Pyrate,)\none of which Sloops he took, after a resolute Resistance, and very much\nshattered the other, who by the Favour of the Night escaped. Twenty six of\nwhich Pyrates so taken, being lately executed at_ Rhode Island, _not only\neased this City and Province of a very great Trouble, but of a very\nconsiderable Expence_, &c. _It is therefore resolved (_Nemine\nContradicente_) that this Corporation do present the said Captain_ Solgard\n_with the Freedom of this Corporation, as a Mark of the great Esteem they\nhave for his Person, as well as for the aforesaid great and good Services;\nand that the Seal of the said Freedom be enclosed in a Gold Box; that Mr._\nRecorder _and Mr._ Bickley _do draw the Draught of the said Freedom,\nsignifying therein, the grateful Sense of this Corporation, for so signal a\nService to the Publick, and Benefit and Advantage of Mankind. That\nAlderman_ Kip, _and Alderman_ Cruger, _do prepare the said Box; that the\nArms of the Corporation be engraved on one Side thereof, and a\nRepresentation of the Engagement on the other, with this Motto_, (viz.)\n[Quesitos Humani Generos Hostes Debellare superbum, 10 Junii, 1723.] _That\nthe Town-Clerk cause the same Freedom to be handsomly engrossed on\nParchment, and that the whole Corporation do wait upon him, to present the\nsame._\n_By Order of the Common-Council._ William Sharpas, _Clerk._\nThe Preamble of Captain _Peter Solgard_'s Copy of his Freedom.\n_Robert Walter_, Esq; Mayor, and the Aldermen of the City of\n_New-York._\n      City of _New-York, ss._\nT_O all whom these Persents shall come, send Greeting. WHEREAS,\nCaptain_ Peter Solgard, _Commander of his Majesty's Ship the_ Greyhound,\n(_the present Station Ship of this Province_,) _in his Cruize, having\nIntelligence of two Pyrate Sloops of considerable Force in Consortship,\nunder the Command of one_ Low, _a notorious Pyrate, that had for upward of\ntwo Years, committed many Depredations, Murders and Barbarities, upon many\nof his Majesty's Subjects and Allies, lately come upon this Coast, hath,\nwith great Diligence, and utmost Application, pursued, overtaken, and after\na stubborn Resistance, vanquished and overcome both of them, taking one,\nand driving the other from our Coast; which Action, as it is glorious in it\nself, so it is glorious in the publick Benefits and Advantages that flow\nfrom it_, (_to wit_) _The Safety and Freedom of our own Trade and Commerce,\nand of all the neighbouring Provinces on this Continent, such signal\nService done against the Enemies of Mankind, merits the Applause of all\ngood Men, but more immediately from those of this Province, who are\nappointed his particular Care and Charge. WE therefore, the Mayor, Aldermen\nand Commonalty of the City of_ New-York, _assembled in Common Council, to\nexpress our grateful Sense and Acknowledgment, to the said Captain_ Peter\nSolgard, _for so noble and faithful a Discharge of his Duty, and as a\nparticular Mark of the great Esteem and just Regard we bear to his kind\nAcceptance of the Freedom of the Corporation of this City of_ New-York,\n_and that he will please to become a Fellow Citizen with us._ These are\ntherefore _to certify and declare, that the said Captain_ Peter Solgard _is\nhereby admitted, received and allowed a Freeman and Citizen of the said\nCity of_ New-York, _to have, hold, enjoy and partake of all and singular\nAdvantages, Benefits, Liberties, Privileges, Franchises, Freedoms and\nImmunities whatsoever, granted or belonging to the same City_: In Testimony\n_thereof, the said Mayor hath hereunto subscribed his Name, and caused the\nSeal of the said City to be affix'd the_ 25_th Day of_ July, _in the ninth\nYear of the Reign of our Sovereign Lord_ George, _by the Grace of God, King\nof_ Great Britain, France _and_ Ireland, _Defender of the Faith_, &c. Anno.\nWilliam Sharpas, _Clerk._\nR. Walter _Mayor._\nThis narrow Escape of _Low_ and his Companions, one would have thought\nmight have brought them to a little Consideration of their black and horrid\nCrimes, and to look upon this Interval as an Opportunity put into their\nHands by Providence, to reconcile themselves to God, by a hearty and\nsincere Repentance. But alass they were dead to all Goodness, and had not\nso much as one Spark of Virtue to stir them up to be thankful for such an\neminent Deliverance: But instead thereof, vented a Million of Oaths and\nCurses upon the Captain of the _Greyhound_, vowing to execute Vengeance\nupon all they should meet with afterwards, for the Indignity he put upon\nthem.\nThe first Prey that they met with, after their Flight, was a small Sloop\nbelonging to _Nantucket_, a Whale-Fishing, about 80 Miles from Land; the\nMaster of which, one _Nathan Skiff_, a brisk young Fellow, the Pyrates\ncruelly whipp'd naked about the Deck, making his Torture their Sport; after\nwhich they cut of his Ears, and last of all shot him through the Head, and\nthen sunk his Vessel; putting the rest of the Hands into their Whale-Boat,\nwith a Compass, a little Water, and a few Biskets; and it being good\nWeather, they providentially got safe to _Nantucket_, beyond all\nExpectation.\nThere was another Whale-Boat belonging to this Sloop last mentioned, which\nhappened to be at some Distance from her, and perceiving what was doing,\nrowed with all speed to another Sloop not far off, to acquaint her with the\nMisfortune, that the Men might take Care of themselves; and she happily got\naway in Time. Some Days after, _Low_ took a Fishing-Boat off of _Block\nIsland_, but did not perpetrate so much Cruelty to her, contenting himself\nwith only cutting off the Master's Head: But after taking two Whale-Boats\nnear _Rhode Island_, he caused one of the Master's Bodies to be ripp'd up,\nand his Intrails to be taken out; and cut off the Ears of the other, and\nmade him eat them himself with Pepper and Salt; which hard Injunction he\ncomply'd with, without making a Word. Several other Persons he would have\nmurthered, but Humanity prevailing in the tender Hearts of his Companions,\nthey refused to put his savage Orders in Execution. From the Coast of\n_New-England, Low_ sailed directly for _Newfoundland_, and, near Cape\n_Briton_, took two or three and twenty _French_ Vessels; and one of them of\n22 Guns he mann'd with Pyrates, making a sort of a Man of War of her; with\nwhich he scower'd the Harbours and Banks of _Newfoundland_, and took\nsixteen or eighteen other Ships and Vessels, all which they plundered, and\nsome destroyed.\nThus these inhumane Wretches went on, who could not be contented to satisfy\ntheir Avarice only, and travel in the common Road of Wickedness; but, like\ntheir Patron, the Devil, must make Mischief their Sport, Cruelty their\nDelight, and damning of Souls their constant Employment. Of all the\npyratical Crews that were ever heard of, none of the _English_ Name came up\nto this, in Barbarity; their Mirth and their Anger had much the same\nEffect, for both were usually gratified with the Cries and Groans of their\nPrisoners; so that they almost as often murthered a Man from the Excess of\ngood Humour, as out of Passion and Resentment; and the Unfortunate could\nnever be assured of Safety from them, for Danger lurked in their very\nSmiles. An Instance of this had liked to have happened to one Captain\n_Graves_, Master of a _Virginia_ Ship last taken; for as soon as he came\naboard of the Pyrate, _Low_ takes a Bowl of Punch in his Hand, and drinks\nto him, saying, _Captain_ Graves, _here's half this to you._ But the poor\nGentleman being too sensibly touched at the Misfortune of falling into his\nHands, modestly desired to be excused, for that he could not drink;\nwhereupon _Low_ draws out a Pistol, cocks it, and with the Bowl in 'tother\nHand, told him, he should either take one or the other: So _Graves_,\nwithout Hesitation, made Choice of the Vehicle that contained the Punch,\nand guttled down about a Quart, when he had the least Inclination that ever\nhe had in his Life to be merry.\nThe latter End of _July_, (1723,) _Low_ took a large Ship, called the\n_Merry Christmas_, and fitted her for a Pyrate, cut several Ports in her,\nand mounted her with 34 Guns. _Low_ goes aboard of this Ship, assumes the\nTitle of Admiral, and hoists a black Flag, with the Figure of Death in red,\nat the Main-topmast Head, and takes another Voyage to the _Western\nIslands_, where he arrived the Beginning of _September._ The first Vessel\nhe met with there, was a Brigantine, formerly an _English_ Sloop, commanded\nby _Elias Wild_, but lately bought by a _Portuguese_ Nobleman, and altered:\nShe was manned partly with _English_, and partly _Portuguese_; the latter\n_Low_ caused to be hang'd, by Way of Reprisal, for some of his own Men sent\nthither in a Sloop from the _Cape de Verd_ Islands, as has been mentioned:\nThe _English_ Men he thrust into their own Boat, to shift for themselves,\nand set Fire to the Vessel.\nAt St. _Michaels_, they sent in their Boats and cut out of the Road, a new\n_London_ built Ship of 14 Guns, commanded by Captain _Thompson_, who was\ntaken there the Year before, by _Low_, in the _Rose_ Pink. The Boats had\nfewer Men than the Ship, and Captain _Thompson_ would have defended\nhimself, but his Men through Cowardize, or too great an Inclination of\nbecoming Pyrates themselves, refused to stand by him, and he was obliged to\nsurrender; and when he came aboard the Pyrate, had his Ears cut off close\nto his Head, for only proposing to resist Admiral _Low_'s black Flag; they\ngave him one of his own Boats, and burnt his Ship.\nThe next was a _Portuguese_ Bark that fell into their Hands, whose Men came\noff somewhat better than usual, for they only cut them with their\nCutlashes, out of Wantonness, turned them all into their Boat, and set\ntheir Vessel on Fire. When the Boat was going from the Side of the Ship,\none of _Low_'s Men, who, we may suppose, was forced into his Gang, was\ndrinking with a Silver Tankard at one of the Ports, and took his\nOpportunity to drop into the Boat among the _Portuguese_, and lye down in\nthe Bottom, in order to escape along with them: After he had stowed himself\nin the Boat, so as not to be seen, it came into his Head, that the Tankard\nmight prove of some Use to him, where he was going; so he got up again,\nlaid hold of the Utensil, and went off, without being discover'd: In which\nAttempt had he failed, no doubt his Life, if not the Lives of all the\nPeople in the Boat, would have paid for it: The Name of this Man is\n_Richard Hains._\n_Low_ took his old Tour to the _Canaries, Cape de Verd_ Islands, and so to\nthe Coast of _Guiney_; but nothing extraordinary happened till they arrived\nnear _Sierraleon_ in _Africa_, where they met with a Ship call'd the\n_Delight_, Captain _Hunt_ Commander; this Ship they thought fit for their\nown Purpose, for she had been a small Man of War, and carried 12 Guns;\nhowever, they mounted 16 on Board her, mann'd her with 60 Men, and\nappointed one _Spriggs_, who was then their Quarter-Master, to be Captain\nof her, who, two Days after, separated from the Admiral, and went to the\n_West-Indies_ a-pyrating, upon his own, and particular Company's, Account,\nwhere for the present we shall leave him.\nIn _January_ last, _Low_ took a Ship, called the _Squirrel_, Captain\n_Stephenson_; but what became of him afterwards, I can't tell; we have had\nno News concerning him come to _England_, since this I have now mentioned;\nbut I have heard that he talk'd of going to _Brazil_; and if so, it is\nlikely we may too soon hear of some Exploit or other; tho' the best\nInformation we could receive, would be, that he and all his Crew were at\nthe Bottom of the Sea.\nCHAP. XIV. OF Capt. _JOHN EVANS_, And his CREW.\nJ_OHN Evans_ was a _Welch_ Man, had been formerly Master of a Sloop\nbelonging to _Nevis_, but losing his Employ there, he sailed for some Time\nout of _Jamaica_ as Mate, till happening in Company of three or four of his\nComrades, and Wages not being so good as formerly, and Births scarce,\nbecause of the great Number of Seamen; they agreed to go abroad in search\nof Adventures. They sailed, or rather rowed out of _Port Royal_ in\n_Jamaica_, the latter End of _September_ 1722, in a Canoa; and coming on\nthe North-Side of the Island, went ashore in the Night, broke open a House\nor two, and robb'd them of some Money, and every Thing else they could find\nthat was portable, and brought the Booty on Board the Canoa.\nThis was very well for the first Time, but this kind of Robbery did not\nplease so well, they wanted to get out to Sea, but having no Vessel but\ntheir Canoa, they were prevented in their laudable Design; however, they\nkept a good look out, and traversed the Island, in Expectation that\nProvidence would send some unfortunate Vessel as a Sacrifice, and in a few\nDays their Wishes were accomplished; for at _Duns Hole_, they found a small\nSloop at an Anchor, belonging to _Bermudas_: They made bold and went\naboard, and _Evans_ informed the Folks that belonged to her, that he was\nCaptain of the Vessel, which was a Piece of News they knew not before.\nAfter they had put their Affairs in a proper Disposition aboard, they went\nashore to a little Village for Refreshments, and lived jovially the\nremaining Part of the Day, at a Tavern, spending three Pistols, and then\ndeparted. The People of the House admired at the merry Guests they had got,\nwere mightily pleased, and wished for their Company at another Time, which\nhappened too soon for their Profit; for, in the middle of the Night, they\ncame ashore all Hands, rifled the House, and carried what they could aboard\ntheir Sloop.\nThe next Day they weighed in the Sloop, aboard of which they mounted four\nGuns, called her the _Scowerer_, and sailed to _Hispaniola_; on the North\nPart of which Island they took a _Spanish_ Sloop, which proved an\nextraordinary rich Prize, as it fell among so few Persons as this Company\nconsisted of, for they shared upwards of 150 _l._ a Man.\nIn Pursuance of the Game, and beating up for the Windward Islands, the\n_Scowerer_ met with a Ship from _New-England_, bound to _Jamaica_, 120\nTons, called the _Dove_, Captain _Diamond_ Master, off _Porto Rico_: They\nplundered her, and strengthened their own Company, by taking out the Mate,\nand two or three other Men; they discharged the Prize, and run into one of\nthe Islands for fresh Water and Necessaries, and staid there some Time.\nThe next Prize they made, was the _Lucretia and Catherine_, Captain\n_Mills_, of 200 Ton Burthen; they came up with her near the Island\n_Disseada, January_ 11th. Upon seizing of this Ship, the Pyrates began to\ntake upon themselves the Distribution of Justice, examining the Men\nconcerning their Master's Usage of them, according to the Custom of other\nPyrates; but the Captain over-hearing the Matter, put an End to the\njudicial Proceedings, and fell to rumaging the Ship, saying to them, _What\nhave we to do to turn Reformers, 'tis Money we want?_ And speaking to the\nPrisoners, he asked them, _Does your Captain give you Victuals enough?_ And\nthey answering in the Affirmative: _Why then_, said he, _he ought to give\nyou Work enough._\nAfter the taking of this Prize, they went to the little Island of _Avis_,\nwith a Design to clean, and carried the _Lucretia_ along with them, in\norder to heave down the _Scowerer_ by her; but meeting there with a Sloop,\nthe Pyrate gave Chace till the Evening, when she was within Gun-Shot of\nher; but fearing to lose Company with the _Lucretia_, who was a heavy\nSailor, they left off, and saw her no more. This Chace brought them to\nLeeward of their Port, so that they were obliged to look out for another\nPlace of Retreat, and the Island of _Ruby_ not being far distant, they\nsteered for that, and anchored there accordingly; but the next Day a\n_Dutch_ Sloop coming as it were, into their Mouths, they could not forbear\ndealing, and so making her their Prize, they plundered her of what came,\nwhen shared, to fifty Pounds a Man.\nThey found this Sloop more for their Purpose than the _Lucretia_, to clean\ntheir own Sloop by, as being much lower in the Wast, and therefore capable\nof heaving her Bottom farther out of the Water, so she was discharged, and\nthe _Dutch_ Man kept in her Room; but not thinking it convenient to lay up\nhere, for fear a discovery should be made, they turned their Thoughts\nanother Way, and steered to the Coast of _Jamaica_, where they took a Sugar\nDrover, and then run to the _Grand Caimanes_, about 30 Leagues to Leeward\nof _Jamaica_, with Intention to clean there; but an unhappy Accident put an\nEnd to their Pyracies, which hitherto had proved very successful to them.\nThe Boatswain of the Pyrate being a noisy surly Fellow, the Captain had at\nseveral Times Words with him, relating to his Behaviour, who thinking\nhimself ill treated, not only returned ill Language, but also challenged\nthe Captain to fight him on the next Shore they came to, with Pistols and\nSword, as is the Custom among these Outlaws. When the Sloop arrived, as\nabovementioned, the Captain proposed the Duel; but the cowardly Boatswain\nrefused to fight, or go ashore, tho' it was his own Challenge. When Captain\n_Evans_ saw there was nothing to be done with him, he took his Cane, and\ngave him a hearty drubbing; but the Boatswain not being able to bear such\nan Indignity, drew out a Pistol and shot _Evans_ thro' the Head, so that he\nfell down dead; and the Boatswain immediately jumped over-board, and swam\ntowards the Shore; but the Boat was quickly mann'd and sent after him,\nwhich took him up and brought him aboard.\nThe Death of the Captain in that Manner, provoked all the Crew, and they\nresolved the Criminal should die by the most exquisite Tortures; but while\nthey were considering of the Punishment, the Gunner, transported with\nPassion, discharged a Pistol, and shot him thro' the Body; but not killing\nhim outright, the Delinquent in very moving Words, desired a Week for\nRepentance only; but another stepping up to him, told him, _that he should\nrepent and be damned to him_, and without more ado shot him dead.\nI should have observed, that when the _Lucretia_ and _Katharine_ was\nsuffered to go away, the Pyrates detained their Mate, who was now the only\nMan aboard, who understood Navigation, and him they desired to take upon\nhim the Command of the Sloop, in the Room of Captain _Evans_ deceased; but\nhe desired to be excused that Honour, and at length positively refused it;\nso they agreed to break up the Company, and leave the Mate in Possession of\nthe Vessel: Accordingly they went ashore at the _Caimanes_, carrying with\nthem about nine thousand Pounds among thirty Persons; and it being fair\nWeather, the Mate and a Boy brought the Vessel into _Port Royal_, in\n_Jamaica._\nCHAP. XV. OF Captain _John Phillips_, And his CREW.\nJ_OHN Phillips_ was bred a Carpenter, and sailing to _Newfoundland_\nin a West-Country Ship, was taken by _Anstis_ in the _Good Fortune_\nBrigantine, the next Day after he had left his Consort and Commadore,\nCaptain _Roberts. Phillips_ was soon reconciled to the Life of a Pyrate,\nand being a brisk Fellow, was appointed Carpenter of the Vessel, for at\nfirst his Ambition reach'd no higher; there he remain'd till they broke up\nat _Tabago_, and was one of those who came home in a Sloop that we have\nmentioned to be sunk in _Bristol_ Channel.\nHis Stay was not long in _England_, for whilst he was paying his first\nVisits to his Friends in _Devonshire_, he heard of the Misfortune of some\nof his Companions, that is, of their being taken and committed to _Bristol_\nGoal; and there being good Reason for his apprehending Danger from a Wind\nthat blew from the same Quarter, he mov'd off immediately to _Topsham_, the\nnearest Port, and there shipp'd himself with one Captain _Wadham_, for a\nVoyage to _Newfoundland_, and home again; which, by the way, Mr. _Phillips_\nnever design'd to perform, or to see _England_ any more. When the Ship came\nto _Peter_ Harbour in _Newfoundland_ aforesaid, he ran away from her, and\nhired himself a Splitter in the Fishery, for the Season: But this was only\ntill he could have an Opportunity of prosecuting his intended Rogueries; in\norder to which, he combined with several others, in the same Employ, to go\noff with one of the Vessels that lay in the Harbour, upon the pyratical\nAccount; accordingly the Time was fix'd, _viz._ the 29th of _August_ 1723,\nat Night; but whether Remorse or Fear prevented their coming together, I\nknow not, but of sixteen Men that were in the Combination, five only kept\nthe Appointment: Notwithstanding which, _Phillips_ was for pushing forward\nwith that small Number, assuring his Companions, that they should soon\nencrease their Company; and they agreeing, a Vessel was seiz'd on, and out\nof the Harbour they sailed.\nThe first Thing they had now to do, was to chuse Officers, draw up\nArticles, and settle their little Commonwealth, to prevent Disputes and\nRanglings afterwards; so _John Phillips_ was made Captain, _John Nutt_,\nMaster, (or Navigator) of the Vessel; _James Sparks_, Gunner; _Thomas\nFern_, Carpenter; and _Wiliam White_ was the only private Man in the whole\nCrew: When this was done, one of them writ out the following Articles\n(which we have taken _verbatim_) and all swore to 'em upon a Hatchet for\nwant of a Bible.\nThe Articles on Board the _Revenge._\nE_Very Man shall obey civil Command; the Captain shall have one full\nShare and a half in all Prizes; the Master, Carpenter, Boatswain and Gunner\nshall have one Share and quarter._\n_If any Man shall offer to run away, or keep any Secret from the Company,\nhe shall be marroon'd, with one Bottle of Powder, one Bottle of Water, one\nsmall Arm, and Shot._\n_If any Man shall steal any Thing in the Company, or game, to the Value of\na Piece of Eight, he shall be marroon'd or shot._\n_If at any Time we should meet another Marrooner_ [_that is, _Pyrate,]\n_that Man that shall sign his Articles without the Consent of our company,\nshall suffer such Punishment as the Captain and Company shall think fit._\n_That Man that shall strike another whilst these Articles are in force,\nshall receive_ Moses_'s Law_ (_that is_, 40 _Stripes lacking one_) _on the\nbare Back._\n_That Man that shall snap his Arms, or smoak Tobacco in the Hold, without a\nCap to his Pipe, or carry a Candle lighted without a Lanthorn, shall suffer\nthe same Punishment as in the former Article._\n_That Man that shall not keep his Arms clean, fit for an Engagement, or\nneglect his Business, shall be cut off from his Share, and suffer such\nother Punishment as the Captain and the Company shall think fit._\n_If any Man shall lose a Joint in time of an Engagement, shall have_ 400\n_Pieces of Eight; if a Limb_, 800.\n_If at any time you meet with a prudent Woman, that Man that offers to\nmeddle with her, without her Consent, shall suffer present Death._\nThus prepar'd, this bold Crew set out, and before they left the Banks they\nmade Prize of several small Fishing-Vessels, out of which they got a few\nHands, some _French_ and some _English_, and then sail'd for the\n_West-Indies_; in one of these Vessels they took out one _John Rose\nArcher_, who having been a Pyrate under the famous _Black-beard_, was\nimmediately preferr'd over other People's Heads, to be Quarter-Master to\nthe Company; which sudden Promotion so disgusted some of the older\nStanders, especially _Fern_, the Carpenter, that it occasioned some\nMischief to follow, as we shall shew by and by.\nThe Pyrates came off _Barbadoes_ the beginning of _October_, and cruised\nthere, and among other Islands, above three Months, without speaking with a\nVessel, so that they were almost starv'd for want of Provisions, being\nreduc'd to a Pound of Meat a Day between ten; at length they fell in with a\n_Martinico_ Man of 12 Guns and 35 Hands, far superior in Force, and what\nthey would not have ventur'd on at another Time, but _Hunger will break\ndown Stone Walls_; they were resolved to shew the _French_ Men their black\nFlag; and if that would not do, they must seek out elsewhere; accordingly,\nthey boldly ran up a-long-side of the Sloop, with their pyratical Colours\nflying, and told them, if they did not strike immediately, they would give\nthem no Quarters; which so intimidated the _Frenchmen_, that they never\nfired a Gun. This proved a seasonable Supply; they took her Provisions, and\nfour of her Men, and let her go. They took presently after, a Sloop\nbelonging to _New-York_, and a _Virginia_ Man, _Huffam_ Master.\nHaving now occasion to clean their Vessel, _Phillips_ propos'd _Tobago_,\nwhere the Company he formerly belong'd to, under _Anstis_ and _Fenn_, broke\nup; to induce them to it, he told them when he left the Island, there was\nleft behind six or eight of their Company that were not willing to go to\n_England_, with three Negroes: Whereupon they sail'd to the Island, and\nafter a careful Search, found only one of the Negroes, whose Name was\n_Pedro_, who inform'd Captain _Phillips_, that those that were left behind\nwere taken by a Man of War's Crew, and hang'd at _Antegoa_, among whom was\n_Fenn_, their Captain.\nThey took _Pedro_ on Board, and then fell to Business, careening their\nVessel; and just as they had finished their Work, a Man of War's Boat came\ninto the Harbour, the Ship being cruising to Leeward of the Island. It was\neasily guess'd upon what Errant she was sent, and therefore they lost no\nTime, but, as soon as the Boat went away, warp'd out, and ply'd to Windward\nfor Security, but left the four _French_ Men, they took out of the\n_Martinico_ Sloop, behind.\nIn a few Days they took a Snow with a few Hands, and _Fern_, the Carpenter,\none _William Phillips, Wood_ and _Taylor_, went aboard to take Possession\nof her. _Fern_, not forgetting the Affront of having _Archer_ preferr'd\nbefore him, resolv'd to go off with the Prize, and brought the rest into\nthe same Measures; however _Phillips_, the Captain, keeping a good\nLook-out, perceiv'd their Design, and gave them Chace, who coming up with\nthe Vessel, a Skirmish ensu'd, wherein _Wood_ was kill'd and _Taylor_\nwounded in his Leg; upon which the other two surrender'd. There was no\nSurgeon aboard, and therefore it was advis'd, upon a learned Consultation,\nthat _Phillips_'s Leg should be cut off; but who should perform the\nOperation was the Dispute; at length the Carpenter was appointed, as the\nmost proper Man: Upon which, he fetch'd up the biggest Saw, and taking the\nLimb under his Arm, fell to Work, and separated it from the Body of the\nPatient, in as little Time as he could have cut a Deal Board in two; after\nthat he heated his Ax red hot in the Fire, and cauteriz'd the Wound, but\nnot with so much Art as he perform'd the other Part, for he so burnt his\nFlesh distant from the Place of Amputation, that it had like to have\nmortify'd; however nature perform'd a Cure at last without any other\nAssistance.\nFrom _Tobago_ they stood away to the Northward and took a _Portugueze_\nbound for _Brazil_, and two or three Sloops from _Jamaica_, in one of\nwhich, _Fern_ the Carpenter, endeavouring to go off, was kill'd by\n_Phillips_ the Captain, pursuant to their Articles; another had the same\nFate some Days after for the like Attempt. These Severities made it\ndangerous for any to consult or project an Escape; the Terror of which made\nseveral sign their Articles and set down quietly, waiting impatiently for\nRedemption, which as yet they saw no great likelyhood of, and should they\nhave been taken before such Circumstances appear'd in their Actions or\nCharacters, as afterwards happen'd, to denote their Innocence, they might\nhave lost their Lives upon a Tryal at a Court of Admiralty; for pretty\nstrong Evidence is expected in their Favour, to ballance that of being\ntaken aboard a Vessel which is prov'd to be in actual Pyracy, and they\nassisting therein.\nThus was many an honest Man's Case made most desperate by the consummate\nVillany of a few hardned Wretches, who fear neither God or Devil, as this\n_Phillips_ us'd often blasphemously to express himself.\nOn the 25th of _March_ they took two Ships from _Virginia_ for _London,\nJohn Phillips_, the Pyrate Captain's Namesake, was Master of one, and\nCaptain _Robert Mortimer_, the other, a brisk young Fellow, that deserv'd a\nbetter Fate than he met with. _Phillips_ the Pyrate staid on Board of\nCaptain _Mortimer_'s Ship, while they transported the Crew to the Sloop,\nand the Boat returning along side, one of the Pyrates therein calls to\n_Phillips_, and tells him, there was a Mutiny aboard their Vessel,\n_Mortimer_ had two Men in his Ship, and the Pyrate Captain had two,\ntherefore thought it a good Opportunity to recover his Ship, and directly\ntook up a Handspike and struck _Phillips_ over the Head, giving him a\ndangerous wound, but not knocking him down, he recovered and wounded\n_Mortimer_ with his Sword; and the two Pyrates that were aboard coming in\nto Captain _Phillips_'s Assistance, Captain _Mortimer_ was presently cut to\nPieces, while his own two Men stood by and did nothing.\nThis was the first Voyage that _Mortimer_ had the Command of a Vessel, by\nwhose Death is a poor disconsolate Widow made miserable, more in regard of\nthe mutual Love and Fidelity they lived in, than the Loss of what would\nhave been a handsome and comfortable Provision for themselves and Children,\nwhich, I think, now ought to be made up by the Publick, since 'twas in the\npublick Service he fell; for had his Attempt succeeded, in all Probability\nhe would not only have regained his own Ship, but entirely subdued and\ndestroy'd the Enemy, there being several, as it afterwards proved, that\nwould have seconded such an Enterprize when ever they found a Beginning\nmade.\nThis Affair ended without any other Consequence than a strict Search after\na Brother of Captain _Mortimer_, who was on Board, in order to have put him\nlikewise to death; but he had the good Fortune to meet with a Townsman\namong the Crew, who hid him for four and twenty Hours in a Stay-Sail, till\nthe Heat of their Fury was over, and by that Means happily missed of the\nFate designed him.\nOut of the other _Virginia_ Man before spoken of, they took one _Edward\nCheeseman_, a Carpenter, to supply the Place of their late Carpenter,\n_Fern._ He was a modest sober young Man, very averse to their unlawful\nPractice, and a brave gallant Fellow. There was one _John Philmore_ of\n_Ipswich_, formerly taken by them, ordered to row _Cheeseman_ aboard of\n_Mortimer_'s Ship, which the Pyrates possess'd themselves of, who, seeing\nwith what Reluctance and Uneasiness _Cheeseman_ was brought away, told him,\nhe would join with him, in some Measures, to over-throw the pyratical\nGovernment, telling him withal, their present Condition, what Difficulties\n_Phillips_ had met with to make up his Company, and how few voluntary\nPyrates there were on Board, and the like. But, however specious this\nseemed, _Cheeseman_ out of Prudence rejected his Offers of Assistance, till\nhe saw some Proofs of his Sincerity, which after a few Days he was\nconvinced of, and then they often consulted; but as the old Pyrates were\nalways jealous of the new Comers, and consequently observant of their\nBehaviour; this was done with the utmost Caution, chiefly when they were\nlying down together, as tho' asleep, and, at other Times, when they were\nplaying at Cards; both which they feigned often to do for that Purpose.\nThe Pyrates went on all the while, plundering and robbing several Ships and\nVessels, bending their Course towards _Newfoundland_, where they designed\nto raise more Men, and do all the Mischief they could on the Banks, and in\nthe Harbours.\n_Newfoundland_ is an Island on the North Continent of _America_, contained\nbetween the 46 and 53\u00b0 of N. Latitude, discovered first by St. _Sebastion\nCabot_ A. D. 1497, but never settled till the Year 1610; when Mr. _Guy_ of\n_Bristol_ revived the Affair, and obtained a Patent, and himself to be\nGovernor. The Island is deserted by the Natives and neglected by us, being\ndesolate and Woody, and the Coast and Harbour only held for the Conveniency\nof the Cod Fishery, for which alone they were settled.\nThe Bays and Harbours about it, are very numerous and convenient, and being\ndeeply indented, makes it easy for any Intelligence quickly to pass from\none Harbour to another over Land; especially the principal, St. _John_'s\nand _Placentia_, when the Appearance of an Enemy makes them apprehend\nDanger.\nThey are able to cure and export about 100000 Quintals (100 Weight each) of\nFish, annually, which returns to _England_ in Money, or the necessary\nCommodities of _Portugal, Spain_ and _Italy._ As it therefore expends\nabundance of Rum, Molossus and Sugar, the Product of our _West-India_\nColonies, and employs a Number of Fishermen from home every Season, by\nwhose Industry and Labour only this Fish is purchased, it may very well be\nreckon'd an advantagious Branch of Trade.\nBut the present Design of this Digression being not to give an exact\nDescription of the Country or Fishery; but rather how it accidentally\ncontributes to raise, or support the Pyrates already rais'd, I shall\nobserve,\nFirst, That our West Country Fishing-Ships, _viz._ from _Topsham,\nBarnstable_ and _Bristol_, who chiefly attend the Fishing Seasons,\ntransport over a considerable Number of poor Fellows every Summer, whom\nthey engage at low Wages, and are by their Terms to pay for Passage back to\n_England._ When the _Newfoundland_ Ships left that Country, towards Winter,\nin the Year 1720, these Passengers muster'd 1100, who, during the Season of\nBusiness, (the Hardness of their Labour, and Chilness of the Nights,\npinching them very much) are mostly fond of drinking Black Strap, (a strong\nLiquor used there, and made from Rum, Molossus, and Chowder Beer;) by this\nthe Majority of them out-run the Constable, and then are necessitated to\ncome under hard Articles of Servitude for their Maintenance in the Winter;\nno ordinary Charge, indeed, when the Barrenness of the Country is\nconsider'd, and the Stock of Provision laid in, happen to fall short, in\nProportion to the Computation made of the People remaining there the\nWinter, which are generally about 17 or 1800. The Masters residing there\nthink Advantages taken on their Necessities, no more than a just and lawful\nGain; and either bind such for the next Summer's Service, or sell their\nProvisions out to them at extravagant Rates; Bread from 15s. to 50,\nimmediately at the departing of the Ships, and so of other sorts of Food in\nProportion; wherefore not being able to subsist themselves, or in any\nlikely Way of clearing the Reckoning to the Masters, they sometimes run\naway with Shallops and Boats, and begin on pyratical Exploits, as\n_Phillips_ and his Companions, whom we are now treating of, had done.\nAnd secondly (which is more opportunely for them,) they are visited every\nSummer, almost, by some Set of Pyrates or other, already rais'd, who call\nhere for the same Purpose, (if young Beginners) and to lay in a Store of\nWater and Provisions, which they find imported, much or little, by all the\nShips that use the Trade.\nTowards this Country _Phillips_ was making his Way, and took on the Voyage,\nbesides those abovementioned, one _Salter_, in a Sloop off the Isle of\n_Sables_, which Vessel they made use of themselves, and gave back\n_Mortimer_'s Ship to the Mate and Crew. The same Day, _viz._ the 4th of\n_April_, took a Scooner, one _Chadwell_, Master, which they scuttled, in\norder to sink; but Capt. _Phillips_ understanding that she belong'd to Mr.\n_Minors_ at _Newfoundland_, with whose Vessel they first went off a\npyrating, a Qualm of Conscience came athwart his Stomach, and he said to\nhis Companions, _We have done him Injury enough already_; so order'd the\nVessel immediately to be repair'd, and return'd her to the Master.\nThat Afternoon they chac'd another Vessel, and at Night came up with her,\nthe Master of which was a Saint of _New-England_, nam'd _Dependance\nEllery_, who taking _Phillips_ for a Pyrate, he told him was the Reason\nthat he gave him the Trouble of chacing so long; which being resented by\nthese Men of Honour, they made poor _Dependance_ dance about the Deck till\nhe was weary.\nWithin few Days several other Vessels had the same Misfortune, the Masters\nNames were as follow, _Joshua Elwell, Samuel Elwell_, Mr. _Combs_, Mr.\n_Lansly, James Babston, Edward Freeman_, Mr. _Start, Obediah Beal, Erick\nErickson_ and _Benjamin Wheeler._\nThe 14th of _April_ they took a Sloop belonging to Cape _Ann, Andrew\nHarradine_ Master; they look'd upon this Vessel more fit for their Purpose,\nand so came aboard, keeping only the Master of her Prisoner, and sending\n_Harradine_'s Crew away in _Salter_'s Vessel, which they, till this Time,\ndetain'd. To this _Harradine, Cheeseman_ the Carpenter, broke his Mind, and\nbrought him into the Confederacy to destroy the Crew, which was put in\nExecution four Days afterwards.\n_Harradine_ and the rest were for doing the Business in the Night, as\nbelieving they might be more opportunely surpriz'd; for _Nut_, the Master,\nbeing a Fellow of great Strength, and no less Courage, it was thought\ndangerous to attack him without Fire-Arms; however, _Cheeseman_ was\nresolute to have it perform'd by Day-light, as the least liable to\nConfusion; and as to the Master, he offer'd to lay Hands on him first: Upon\nthis 'twas concluded on, 12 at Noon was the appointed Time; in order for\nthe Business _Cheeseman_ leaves his working Tools on the Deck, as though he\nhad been going to use them, and walked aft; but perceiving some Signs of\nTimidity in _Harradine_, he comes back, fetches his Brandy Bottle and gives\nhim and the rest a Dram, then drank to _Burril_, the Boatswain, and the\nMaster, _To their next merry Meeting_, and up he puts the Bottle; then he\ntakes a Turn with _Nut_, asking what he thought of the Weather, and such\nlike. In the mean while _Filemore_ takes up the Axe, and turns it round\nupon the Point, as if at Play, then both he and _Harradine_ wink at him,\nthereby letting him know they were ready; upon which Signal he seizes _Nut_\nby the Collar, with one Hand between his Legs, and toss'd him over the Side\nof the Vessel, but, he holding by _Cheeseman_'s Sleeve, said, _Lord have\nMercy upon me! what are you going to do, Carpenter?_ He told him it was an\nunnecessary Question, _For_, says he, _Master, you are a dead Man_, so\nstrikes him over the Arm, _Nut_ looses his Hold, tumbles into the Sea, and\nnever spoke more.\nBy this time the Boatswain was dead; for as soon as _Filemore_ saw the\nMaster laid hold of, he raised up the Axe, and divided his Enemy's Head in\ntwo: The Noise brought the Captain upon Deck, whom _Cheeseman_ saluted with\nthe Blow of a Mallet, which broke his Jaw-Bone, but did not knock him down;\n_Harradine_ came in then with the Carpenter's Adds, but _Sparks_, the\nGunner, interposing between him and Captain _Phillips, Cheeseman_ trips up\nhis Heels, and flung him into the Arms of _Charles Ivymay_, one of his\nConsorts, who that Instant discharg'd him into the Sea; and at the same\nTime _Harradine_ compassed his Business with the Captain aforesaid:\n_Cheeseman_ lost no Time, but from the Deck jumps into the Hold, and was\nabout to beat out the Brains of _Archer_, the Quarter-Master, having struck\nhim two or three Blows with his blunt Weapon the Mallet, when _Harry\nGiles_, a young Lad, came down after him, and desir'd his Life might be\nspar'd, as an Evidence of their own Innocence; that he having all the Spoil\nand Plunder in his Custody, it may appear, that these tragick Proceedings\nwere not undertaken with any dishonest View of seizing or appropriating the\nEffects to themselves; which prudent Advice prevail'd, and he and three\nmore were made Prisoners, and secured.\nThe Work being done, they went about Ship, altered the Course from\n_Newfoundland_ to _Boston_, and arrived safe the 3d of _May_ following, to\nthe great Joy of that Province.\nOn the 12th of _May_, 1724, a special Court of Admiralty was held for the\nTryal of these Pyrates, when _John Filmore, Edward Cheeseman, John Combs,\nHenry Giles, Charles Ivymay, John Bootman_, and _Henry Payne_, the seven\nthat confederated together for the Pyrates Destruction, were honourably\nacquitted; as also three _French_ Men, _John Baptis, Peter Taffery_, and\n_Isaac Lassen_, and three Negroes, _Pedro, Francisco_, and _Pierro._ And\n_John Rose Archer_, the Quarter-Master, _William White, William Taylor_,\nand _William Phillips_, were condemned; the two latter were reprieved for a\nYear and a Day, in order to be recommended (though I don't know for what)\nas Objects of his Majesty's Mercy. The two former were executed on the 2d\nof _June_, and dy'd very penitently, making the following Declarations at\nthe Place of Execution, with the Assistance of two grave Divines that\nattended them.\n_The dying Declarations of_ John Rose Archer _and_ William White, _on\nthe Day of their Execution at_ Boston, June 2, 1724, _for the Crimes of\nPyracy._\nFirst, separately, of _Archer._\nI Greatly bewail my Profanations of the Lord's Day, and my\nDisobedience to my Parents.\nAnd my Cursing and Swearing, and my blaspheming the Name of the glorious\nGod.\nUnto which I have added, the Sins of Unchastity. And I have provoked the\nHoly One, at length, to leave me unto the Crimes of Pyracy and Robbery;\nwherein, at last, I have brought my self under the Guilt of Murder also.\nBut one Wickedness that has led me as much as any, to all the rest, has\nbeen my brutish Drunkenness. By strong Drink I have been heated and\nhardened into the Crimes that are now more bitter than Death unto me.\nI could wish that Masters of Vessels would not use their Men with so much\nSeverity, as many of them do, which exposes to great Temptations.\nAnd then of _White._\nI am now, with Sorrow, reaping the Fruits of my Disobedience to my Parents,\nwho used their Endeavours to have me instructed in my Bible, and my\nCatechism.\nAnd the Fruits of my neglecting the publick Worship of God, and prophaning\nthe holy Sabbath.\nAnd of my blaspheming the Name of God, my Maker.\nBut my Drunkenness has had a great Hand in bringing my Ruin upon me. I was\ndrunk when I was enticed aboard the Pyrate.\nAnd now, for all the vile Things I did aboard, I own the Justice of God and\nMan, in what is done unto me.\nOf both together.\nWe hope, we truly hate the Sins, whereof we have the Burthen lying so heavy\nupon our Consciences.\nWe warn all People, and particularly young People, against such Sins as\nthese. We wish, all may take Warning by us.\nWe beg for Pardon, for the sake of Christ, our Saviour; and our Hope is in\nhim alone. Oh! _that in his Blood our Scarlet and Crimson Guilt may be all\nwashed away!_\nWe are sensible of an hard Heart in us, full of Wickedness. And we look\nupon God for his renewing Grace upon us.\nWe bless God for the Space of Repentance which he has given us; and that he\nhas not cut us off in the Midst and Heighth of our Wickedness.\nWe are not without Hope, that God has been savingly at work upon our Souls.\nWe are made sensible of our absolute Need of the Righteousness of Christ;\nthat we may stand justified before God in that. We renounce all Dependance\non our own.\nWe are humbly thankful to the Ministers of Christ, for the great Pains they\nhave taken for our Good. The Lord Reward their Kindness.\nWe don't Despair of Mercy; but hope, through Christ, that when we dye, we\nshall find Mercy with God, and be received into his Kingdom.\nWe wish others, and especially the Sea-faring, may get Good by what they\nsee this Day befalling of us.\n_Declared in the Presence of_ J. W. D. M.\nCHAP. XVI. OF Captain _SPRIGGS_, And his CREW.\nS_Priggs_ sailed with _Low_ for a pretty while, and I believe came\naway from _Lowther_, along with him; he was Quarter-Master to the Company,\nand consequently had a great Share in all the Barbarities committed by that\nexecrable Gang, till the Time they parted; which was about _Christmas_\nlast, when _Low_ took a Ship of 12 Guns on the Coast of _Guiney_, called\nthe _Delight_, (formerly the _Squirrel_ Man of War,) commanded by Captain\n_Hunt. Spriggs_ took Possession of the Ship with eighteen Men, left _Low_\nin the Night, and came to the _West-Indies._ This Separation was occasioned\nby a Quarrel with _Low_, concerning a Piece of Justice _Spriggs_ would have\nexecuted upon one of the Crew, for killing a Man in cold Blood, as they\ncall it, one insisting that he should be hang'd, and the other that he\nshould not.\nA Day or two after they parted, _Spriggs_ was chose Captain by the rest,\nand a black Ensign was made, which they called _Jolly Roger_, with the same\nDevice that Captain _Low_ carried, _viz._ a white Skeliton in the Middle of\nit, with a Dart in one Hand striking a bleeding Heart, and in the other, an\nHour-Glass; when this was finished and hoisted, they fired all their Guns\nto salute their Captain and themselves, and then looked out for Prey.\nIn their Voyage to the _West-Indies_, these Pyrates took a _Portuguese_\nBark, wherein they got valuable Plunder, but not contented with that alone,\nthey said they would have a little Game with the Men, and so ordered them a\nSweat, more for the Brutes Diversion, than the poor Men's Healths; which\nOperation is performed after this Manner; they stick up lighted Candles\ncircularly round the Mizon-Mast, between Decks, within which the Patients\none at a Time enter; without the Candles, the Pyrates post themselves, as\nmany as can stand, forming another Circle, and armed with Pen-Knives,\nTucks, Forks, Compasses, _&c._ and as he runs round and round, the Musick\nplaying at the same Time, they prick him with those Instuments; this\nusually lasts for 10 or 12 Minutes, which is as long as the miserable Man\ncan support himself. When the Sweating was over, they gave the _Portuguese_\ntheir Boat with a small Quantity of Provisions, and set their Vessel on\nFire.\nNear the Island of St. _Lucia_, they took a Sloop belonging to _Barbadoes_,\nwhich they plundered, and then burnt, forcing some of the Men to sign their\nArticles, the others they beat and cut in a barbarous Manner, because they\nrefused to take on with the Crew, and then sent them away in the Boat, who\nall got safe afterwards to _Barbadoes._\nThe next was a _Martinico_ Man, which they served as bad as they had done\nthe others, but did not burn their Ship. Some Days afterwards in running\ndown to Leeward, they took one Captain _Hawkins_, coming from _Jamaica_,\nloaden chiefly with Logwood; they took out of her, Stores, Arms,\nAmmunition, and several other Things, as they thought fit, and what they\ndid not want they threw over-board or destroy'd; they cut the Cables to\npieces, knocked down the Cabins, broke all the Windows, and in short took\nall the Pains in the World to be Mischievous. They took by Force, out of\nher, Mr. _Burridge_ and Mr. _Stephens_, the two Mates, and some other\nHands; and after detaining the Ship from the 22d of _March_, to the 29th,\nthey let her go. On the 27th they took a _Rhode Island_ Sloop, Captain\n_Pike_, and all his Men were obliged to go aboard the Pyrate; but the Mate\nbeing a grave sober Man, and not inclinable to stay, they told him, he\nshould have his Discharge, and that it should be immediately writ on his\nBack; whereupon he was sentenced to receive ten Lashes from every Man in\nthe Ship, which was rigorously put in Execution.\nThe next Day Mr. _Burridge_, Captain _Hawkins_'s Mate, sign'd their\nArticles, which was so agreeable to them (he being a good Artist and\nSailor) that they gave three Huzza's, fir'd all the Guns in the Ship, and\nappointed him Master: The Day was spent in boysterous Mirth, roaring and\ndrinking of Healths, among which was, by Mistake, that of King _George_ the\nII. for you must know, now and then the Gentry are provok'd to sudden Fits\nof Loyalty, by the Expectation of an Act of Grace: It seems Captain _Pike_\nhad heard at _Jamaica_ that the King was dead, so the Pyrates immediately\nhoisted their Ensign Half-Mast (the Death Signal) and proclaim'd his Royal\nHighness, saying, _They doubted not but there would be a general Pardon in\na twelve Month, which they would embrace and come in upon, but damn 'em if\nthey should be excepted out of it, they would murder every_ Englishman\n_that should fall into their Hands._\nThe second of _April_, they spy'd a Sail, and gave her Chace till 12\no'Clock at Night, the Pyrates believed her to be a _Spaniard_, when they\ncame close up to her, they discharged a Broadside, with small and great\nShot, which was follow'd by another, but the Ship making a lamentable Cry\nfor Quarters, they ceas'd firing, and ordered the Captain to come aboard,\nwhich he did, but how disappointed the Rogues were when they found 'twas\ntheir old Friend Captain _Hawkins_, whom they had sent away three Days\nbefore, worth not one Penny? This was such a Baulk to them, that they\nresolved he should suffer for falling in their Way, tho' it was so contrary\nto his own Inclinations: About 15 of them surrounded the poor Man with\nsharp Cutlashes, and fell upon him, whereby he was soon laid flat on the\nDeck; at that Instant _Burridge_ flew amongst the thickest of the Villains,\nand begg'd earnestly for his Life, upon whose Request 'twas granted. They\nwere now most of 'em drunk, as is usual at this Time of Night, so they\nunanimously agreed to make a Bonfire of _Hawkins_'s Ship, which was\nimmediately done, and in half an Hour she was all of a Blaze.\nAfter this, they wanted a little more Diversion, and so Captain _Hawkins_\nwas sent for down to the Cabin to Supper; what should the Provision be, but\na Dish of Candles, which he was forced to eat, having a naked Sword and a\nPistol held to his Breast all the while; when this was over, they buffeted\nhim about for some Time, and sent him forward amongst the other Prisoners,\nwho had been treated with the same Delicacies.\nTwo Days afterwards, they anchor'd at a little uninhabited Island, call'd\n_Rattan_, near the Bay of _Honduras_, and put ashore Captain _Hawkins_, and\nseveral other Men, (one of them his Passenger) who dy'd there of the\nHardships he underwent. They gave them Powder and Ball, and a Musquet, with\nwhich they were to shift as they could, sailing away the next Day for other\nAdventures.\nCaptain _Hawkins_, and his unfortunate Companions, staid 19 Days upon this\nIsland, supplying themselves with both Fish and Fowl, such as they were, at\nwhich Time came two Men in a Canoe, that had been left upon another marroon\nIsland near _Benacca_, who carry'd the Company at several Times thither, it\nbeing more convenient in having a good Well of fresh Water, and Plenty of\nFish, _&c._ Twelve Days afterwards they spy'd a Sloop off at Sea, which,\nupon their making a great Smoke, stood in, and took them off; she was the\n_Merriam_, Captain _Jones_, lately escaped out of the Bay of _Honduras_,\nfrom being taken by the _Spaniards._\nAt an Island to the Westward, the Pyrates clean'd their Ship, and sail'd\ntowards the Island of St. _Christophers_, to wait for one Captain _Moor_,\nwho commanded the _Eagle_ Sloop, when she took _Lowther_'s upon the Careen,\nat _Blanco_; _Spriggs_ resolved to put him to Death, whenever he took him,\nfor falling upon his Friend and Brother, but instead of _Moor_, he found a\n_French_ Man of War from _Martinico_ upon the Coast, which _Spriggs_ not\nthinking fit to contend with, run away with all the Sail he could make, the\n_French_ Man crowded after him, and was very likely to speak with Mr.\n_Spriggs_, when unfortunately his Main-Top-Mast came by the Board, which\nobliged him to give over the Chace.\n_Spriggs_ then stood to the Northward, towards _Burmudas_, or the _Summer\nIsles_, and took a Scooner belonging to _Boston_; he took out all the Men\nand sunk the Vessel, and had the Impudence to tell the Master, that he\ndesigned to encrease his Company on the Banks of _Newfoundland_, and then\nwould sail for the Coast of _New-England_ in quest of Captain _Solgard_,\nwho attack'd and took their Consort _Charles Harris, Spriggs_ being then in\n_Low_'s Sloop, who very fairly run for it. The Pyrate ask'd the Master if\nhe knew Captain _Solgard_, who answering No; he ask'd another the same\nQuestion, and then a third, who said he knew him very well, upon which\n_Spriggs_ ordered him to be sweated, which was done in the Manner before\ndescrib'd.\nInstead of going to _Newfoundland_ as the Pyrates threat'ned, they came\nback to the Islands, and to Windward of St. _Christophers_, on the 4th of\n_June_ last, took a Sloop, _Nicholas Trot_ Master, belonging to St.\n_Eustatia_, and wanting a little Diversion, they hoisted the Men as high as\nthe Main and Fore Tops, and let them run down amain, enough to break all\nthe Bones in their Skins, and after they had pretty well crippled them by\nthis cruel Usage, and whipp'd them about the Deck, they gave _Trot_ his\nSloop, and let him go, keeping back only 2 of his Men, besides the Plunder\nof the Vessel.\nWithin two or three Days they took a Ship coming from _Rhode-Island_ to St.\n_Christophers_, loaden with Provisions and some Horses; the Pyrates mounted\nthe Horses and rid them about the Deck backwards and forwards a full\nGallop, like Madmen at _New-Market_, cursing, swearing, and hallowing, at\nsuch a Rate, that made the poor Creatures wild, and at length, two or three\nof them throwing their Riders, they fell upon the Ship's Crew, and whipp'd,\nand cut, and beat them in a barbarous Manner, telling them, it was for\nbringing Horses without Boots and Spurs, for want of which they were not\nable to ride them.\nThis is the last Account we have had of Captain _Spriggs_, I shall only add\nthe two following Relations, and conclude.\nA Brigantine belonging to _Bristol_, one _Mr. Rowry_ Master, had been\ntrading at _Gambia_, in _Africa_, and falling as low as Cape _Mount_, to\nfinish the slaving of the Vessel, he had, by a Misfortune usual at that\nPart of the Coast, his Mate, Surgeon, and two more of his Men,\n_Panyarr_'d[*] by the Negroes. The Remainder of his Company, which was not\nabove 5 or 6 in Number, took this Opportunity, and seiz'd the Vessel in the\nRoad, making the Master Prisoner.\nYou will think it prodigious impudent that so small a Number should\nundertake to proceed a pyrating, especially when neither of them had\nsufficient Skill in Navigation: Yet this they did, leaving those People,\ntheir Ship-Mates abovemention'd, to the Mercy of the barbarous Natives, and\nsail'd away down the Coast, making them a black Flag, which they merrily\nsaid, would be as good as 50 Men more, _i. e._ would carry as much Terror;\nand that they did not doubt of soon increasing their Crew, to put them in\nan enterprizing Capacity; but their vain Projection was soon happily\nfrustrated, and after this Manner.\nThe Master whose Life they had preserved, (perhaps only for supplying their\nown Unskillfulness in Navigation,) advised them, that since contrary to\ntheir Expectations, they had met with no Ship between _Cape Mount_, and the\n_Bite_ of _Calabar_, to proceed to the Island of St. _Thomas_'s, where they\nmight recruit with Provisions and Water, and sell off the Slaves (about 70\nof them) which they perceived would be a useless Lumber, and incommodious\nto their Design. They arrived there in _August_ 1721, and one Evening,\nwhile Part of them were on Shore, applying for this Purpose to the\nGovernor, and the other Part carelesly from the Deck, Mr. _Rowry_ stepp'd\ninto the Boat belonging to the Vessel, and pushed off, very suddenly: They\nheard the Noise it made, and soon were upon Deck again, but having no other\nBoat to pursue, nor a Musket, ready to fire, he got safe on Shore, and ran\nto the Governor with his Complaint, who immediately imprisoned those\nalready there, and sent a Launch off to take the rest out of the Ship.\nThe _Swallow_ arrived at St. _Thomas_'s the Beginning of _October_\nfollowing, where, on Mr. _Rowry_'s Remonstrance, Application was made to\nthe _Portuguese_ Governor of that Island, for a Surrendery of these five\n_English_ Prisoners then in the Castle; but he not only peremptorily\nexcused himself from it, as a Matter out of his Power, without particular\nDirection from the Court of _Portugal_; but withal insinuated, that they\nhad only taken Refuge there from the Hardships and Severity they had met\nwith from their Master. The manner of Denial, and the avaritious Temper of\nthe Gentleman, which I had Occasion to be acquainted with, makes it very\nsuspicious, that he proposed considerable Gains to himself; for if Mr.\n_Rowry_ had not made such an Escape to him, the Slaves had been his for\nlittle or nothing, as a Bribe to silence his Suspicions, which any Man,\nless acute than he, must have had from the awkward and unskilful Carriage\nof such Merchants. But enough of this; perhaps he is not the only Governor\nabroad that finds an Interest in countenancing these Fellows.\n[Footnote *: Term for stealing of Men used all over the Coast.]\nAn Account of the Pyracies and Murders committed by _Philip Roche_,\nP_Hilip Roche_ was born in _Ireland_, and from his Youth had been\nbred up to the Sea; he was a brisk genteel Fellow, of 30 Years of Age at\nthe Time of his Death; one whose black and savage Nature did no ways answer\nthe Comliness of his Person, his Life being almost one continued Scene of\nVillany, before he was discovered to have committed the horrid Murders we\nare now speaking of.\nThis inhumane Monster had been concerned with others, in insuring Ships to\na great Value, and then destroying them; by which Means, and other\nRogueries, he had got a little Money; and being Mate of a Ship, was\ndilligent enough in trading for himself between _Ireland_ and _France_, so\nthat he was in a Way of getting himself a comfortable Livelihood: But, as\nhe resolved to be rich, and finding fair Dealing brought in Wealth but\nslowly, he contriv'd to put other Things in Execution, and certainly had\nmurthered several innocent Persons in the Prosecution of his abominable\nSchemes; but as I have now forgot the particular Circumstances of those\nRelations, I shall confine my self at present to the Fact for which he\nsuffer'd.\n_Roche_ getting acquainted with one _Neal_, a Fisherman at _Cork_, whom he\nfound ready for any villainous Attempt, he imparted his Design to him, who\nbeing pleas'd with the Project, brings one _Pierce Cullen_ and his Brother\ninto the Confederacy, together with one _Wise_, who at first was very\nunwilling to come into their Measures, and, indeed, had the least Hand in\nthe Perpetration of what follows.\nThey pitch'd upon a Vessel in the Harbour, belonging to _Peter Tartoue_, a\n_French_ Man, to execute their cruel Intentions upon, because it was a\nsmall one, and had not a great Number of Hands on Board, and 'twas easy\nafterwards to exchange it for one more fit for Pyracy; and therefore they\napply'd themselves to the Master of her, for a Passage to _Nantz_, whereto\nthe Ship was bound; and accordingly, the Beginning of _November_ 1721, they\nwent aboard; and when at Sea, _Philip Roche_ being an experienced Sailor,\nthe Master of the Vessel readily trusted him with the Care of her, at\ntimes, while he and the Mate went to rest.\nThe 15th of _November_, at Night, was the Time designed for the Tragedy;\nbut _Francis Wise_ relented, and appear'd desirous to divert them from\ntheir bloody Purposes. _Roche_ (sometimes called Captain) told him, _That\nas_ Cullen _and he had sustained great Losses at Sea, unless every_\nIrishman _present would assist in repairing their Losses, by murthering all\nthe_ French _Rogues, and running away with the Ship, he should suffer the\nsame Fate with the_ French _Men; but if all would assist, all should have a\nShare in the Booty._ Upon this, they all resolved alike, and Captain\n_Roche_ ordered three _Frenchmen_ and a Boy up to hand the Topsails, the\nMaster and Mate being then asleep in their Cabins, The two first that came\ndown, they beat out their Brains and threw them over-board: The other two\nseeing what was done, ran up to the Topmast Head, but _Cullen_ followed\nthem, and taking the Boy by the Arm, tost him into the Sea; then driving\ndown the Man, those below knocked him on the Head, and threw him\nover-board.\nThose who were asleep, being awakened by the dismal Skrieks and Groans of\ndying Men, ran upon Deck in Confusion, to enquire into the Cause of such\nunusual Noises; but the same Cruelty was immediately acted towards them,\ne'er they could be sensible of the Danger that threat'ned them.\nThey were now (as _Roche_ himself afterwards confess'd) _all over as wet\nwith the Blood that had been spilt, as if they had been dipp'd in Water, or\nstood in a Shower of Rain, nor did they regard it any more. Roche_ said,\nCaptain _Tartoue_ used many Words for Mercy, and asked them, if he had not\nused them with Civility and Kindness? If they were not of the same\nChristian Religion, and owned the same blessed _Jesus_, and the like? But\nthey, not regarding what he said, took Cords and bound the poor Master and\nhis Mate Back to Back, and while that was doing, both of them begged with\nthe utmost Earnestness, and used the most solemn Intreaties, that they\nwould at least allow them a few Minutes to say their Prayers, and beg Mercy\nof God for the various Sins and Offences of their Lives: But it did not\nmove them, (though all the rest were dead, and no Danger could be\napprehended from them two alone) for the bound Persons were hurry'd up and\nthrown into the Sea.\nThe Massacre being finished, they washed themselves a little from the\nBlood, and searched the Chests and Lockers, and all Places about the Ship,\nand then set down in the Captain's Cabin, and refreshed themselves with\nsome Rum they found there, and (as _Roche_ confessed) were never merrier in\ntheir Lives. They invested _Roche_ with the Command of the Ship, and\ncalling him Captain, talked over their Liquor, what rare Actions they would\nperform about Cape _Briton, Sable Isle_, and the Banks of _Newfoundland_,\nwhither they designed to go as soon as they had recruited their Company,\nand got a better Ship, which they proposed speedily to do.\n_Roche_ taking upon himself the Command of the Vessel, _Andrew Cullen_ was\nto pass for a Merchant or Super-cargo; but when they bethought themselves,\nthat they were in Danger of being discovered by the Papers of the Ship,\nrelating to the Cargo, as Bills of Lading, _&c._ therefore they erase and\ntake out the Name of the _French_ Master, and instead thereof, inserted the\nName of _Roche_, so that it stood in the Ship's Papers, _Peter Roche_\nMaster; that then having so few Hands on Board, they contrived if they met\nany Ships, to give out, that they had lost some Hands by their being washed\noverboard in a Storm, and by that Means screen themselves from being\nsuspected of having committed some such wicked Act, by Reason of the\nFewness of their Hands on Board; and also might prevail with some Ship to\nspare them some, on Consideration of their pretended Disaster.\nIn going to _Cales_ they were in Distress by the Weather, and being near\n_Lisbon_, they made Complaint to a Ship, but obtained no Assistance. They\nwere then obliged to sail back for _England_, and put into the Port of\n_Dartmouth_; but then they were in fear least they might be discovered,\ntherefore to prevent that, they resolve to alter the Ship, and getting\nWorkmen, they take down the Mizzen-Mast, and build a Spar Deck, and made\nRails, (on pretence that the Sailors had been wash'd overboard) to secure\nthe Men. Then they took down the Image of St. _Peter_ at the Head of the\nShip, and put up a Lion in its Place, and painted over the Stern of the\nShip with Red, and new nam'd her the _Mary_ Snow. The Ship being thus\nalter'd that they thought it could not be known, they fancy'd themselves\npretty secure; but wanting Money to defray the Charge of these Alterations,\n_Roche_, as Master of the Vessel, and _Andrew Cullen_, as Merchant, apply\nthemselves to the Officers of the Customs for Liberty to dispose of some of\nthe Cargo, in order to pay the Workmen; which they having obtained, they\nsold fifty eight Barrels of Beef, and having hired three more Hands, they\nset Sail for _Ostend_, and there having sold more Barrels of Beef, they\nsteer their Course to _Rotterdam_, dispose of the rest of the Cargo, and\ntook in one Mr. _Annesly_, who freighted the Ship for _England_; but in\ntheir Passage, in a stormy Night, it being very dark, they took up Mr.\n_Annesly_ their Passenger, and threw him into the Sea, who swam about the\nShip a pretty while, calling out for Life, and telling them they should\nhave all his Goods, if they would receive him again into the Vessel: But in\nvain were his Cries!\nAfter this, they were obliged to put into several Ports, and by contrary\nWinds, came to the Coast of _France_, and hearing there was an Enquiry made\nafter the Ship, _Roche_ quits her at _Havre de Grace_, and leaves the\nManagement to _Cullen_ and the rest; who having shipp'd other Men, sail'd\naway to _Scotland_, and there quitted the Vessel, which was afterwards\nseized and brought into the River of _Thames._\nSome Time after this, _Philip Roche_ came to _London_, and making some\nClaim for Money, he had made Insurance of, in the Name of _John Eustace_,\nthe Officer was apprized of the Fraud, and he arrested and flung into the\nCompter; from whence directing a Letter to his Wife, she shewed it to a\nFriend, who discovered by it, that he was the principal Villain concerned\nin the Destruction of _Peter Tartoue_, and the Crew. Upon this, an\nInformation was given to my Lord _Carteret_, that the Person who went by\nthe Name of _John Eustace_, was _Philip Roche_, as aforesaid; and being\nbrought down by his Lordships Warrant, he stifly deny'd it for some Time,\nnotwithstanding a Letter was found in his Pocket, directed to him by the\nName of _Roche_; but being confronted by a Captain of a Ship, who knew him\nwell, he confessed it, but prevaricated in several Particulars; whereupon\nhe was committed to _Newgate_ upon violent Suspicion, and the next Day was\nbrought down again at his own Request, confessed the whole, desired to be\nmade an Evidence, and promised to convict three Men worse than himself. Two\nwere discovered by him, who died miserably in the _Marshalsea_, and _Roche_\nhimself was afterwards try'd, (no more being taken,) found Guilty of the\nPyracy, and executed.\nAn ABSTRACT of the Civil Law and Statute Law now in Force, in Relation\nto Pyracy.\nA _Pyrate is_ Hostis humanis generis, _a common Enemy, with whom\nneither Faith nor Oath is to be kept, according to_ Tully. _And by the Laws\nof Nature, Princes and States are responsible for their Neglect, if they do\nnot provide Remedies for restraining these sort of Robberies. Though\nPyrates are called common Enemies, yet they are properly not to be term'd\nso. He is only to be honour'd with that Name, says_ Cicero, _who hath a\nCommonwealth, a Court, a Treasury, Consent and Concord of Citizens, and\nsome Way, if Occasion be, of Peace and League: But when they have reduced\nthemselves into a Government or State, as those of_ Algier, Sally, Tripoly,\nTunis, _and the like, they then are allowed the Solemnities of War, and the\nRights of Legation._\n_If Letters of_ Marque _be granted to a Merchant, and he furnishes out a\nShip, with a Captain and Mariners, and they, instead of taking the Goods,\nor Ships of that Nation against whom their Commission is awarded, take the\nShip and Goods of a Friend, this is Pyracy; and if the Ship arrive in any\nPart of his Majesty's Dominions, it will be seized, and for ever lost to\nthe Owners; but they are no way liable to make Satisfaction._\n_If a Ship is assaulted and taken by the Pyrates, for Redemption of which,\nthe Master becomes a Slave to the Captors, by the Law_ Marine, _the Ship\nand Lading are tacitly obliged for his Redemption, by a general\nContribution; but if it happen through his own Folly, then no Contribution\nis to be made._\n_If Subjects in Enmity with the Crown of_ England, _are abord an_ English\n_Pyrate, in Company with_ English, _and a Robbery is committed, and they\nare taken; it is Felony in the_ English, _but not in the Stranger; for it\nwas no Pyracy in them, but the Depredation of an Enemy, and they will be\ntried by a Martial Law._\n_If Pyracy is committed by Subjects in Enmity with_ England, _upon the_\nBritish _Seas, it is properly only punishable by the Crown of_ England,\n_who have_ istud regimen & Dominem _exclusive of all other Power._\n_If Pyracy be committed on the Ocean, and the Pyrates in the Attempt be\novercome, the Captors may, without any Solemnity of Condemnation, hang them\nup at the Main-Yard; if they are brought to the next Port, and the Judge\nrejects the Tryal, or the Captors cannot wait for the Judge, without Peril\nor Loss, Justice may be done upon them by the Captors._\n_If Merchandize be delivered to a Master, to carry to one Port, and he\ncarries it to another, and sells and disposes of it, this is not Felony;\nbut if, after unlading it at the first Port, he retakes it, it is Pyracy._\n_If a Pyrate attack a Ship, and the Master for Redemption, gives his Oath\nto pay a Sum of Money, tho' there be nothing taken, yet it is Pyracy by the\nLaw_ Marine.\n_If a Ship is riding at Anchor, and the Mariners all ashore, and a Pyrate\nattack her, and rob her, this is Pyracy._\n_If a Man commit Pyracy upon the Subjects of any Prince, or Republick_,\n(_though in Amity with us,) and brings the Goods into_ England, _and sells\nthem in a Market_ Overt, _the same shall bind, and the Owners are for ever\nexcluded._\n_If a Pyrate enters a Port of this Kingdom, and robs a Ship at Anchor\nthere, it is not Pyracy, because not done_, super altum Mare; _but is\nRobbery at common Law, because_ infra Corpus Comitatus. _A Pardon of all\nFelonies does not extend to Pyracy, but the same ought to be especially\nnamed._\n_By_ 28 H. 8. _Murthers and Robberies committed upon the Sea, or in other\nPlaces, where the Admiral pretends Jurisdiction, shall be enquired into,\ntry'd, heard, and determined, in such Places and Counties within the Realm,\nas shall be limited by the King's Commission, in like Manner as if such\nOffences were done at Land. And such Commissions_ (_being under the Great\nSeal_) _shall be directed to the Lord Admiral, his Lieutenant or Deputy,\nand to three or four such others as the Lord Chancellor shall name._\n_The said Commissioners, or three of them, have Power to enquire of such\nOffences by twelve lawful Men of the Country, so limited in their\nCommission, as if such Offences were done at Land, within the same County;\nand every Indictment so found and presented, shall be good in Law; and such\nOrder, Progress, Judgment, and Execution shall be used, had, done, and made\nthereupon, as against Offenders for Murder and Felony done at Land. Also\nthe Tryal of such Offences_ (_if they be denied_) _shall be had by twelve\nMen of the County, limited in the said Commission_, (_as aforesaid_,) _and\nno Challenge shall be had for the Hundred: And such as shall be convict of\nsuch Offences, shall suffer Death without Benefit of Clergy, and forfeit\nLand and Goods, as in Case of Felonies and Murders done at Land._\n_This Act shall not prejudice any Person, or Persons_, (_urged by\nNecessity_) _for taking Victuals, Cables, Ropes, Anchors or Sails, out of\nanother Ship that may spare them, so as they either pay ready Money, or\nMoney worth for them, or give a Bill for the Payment thereof; if on this\nSide the Straits of_ Gibraltar, _within four Months; if beyond, within\ntwelve Months._\n_When any such Commission shall be sent to any Place within the\nJurisdiction of the_ Cinque-Ports, _it shall be directed to the Warden of\nthe said Ports, or his Deputy with three or four other Persons, as the Lord\nChancellor shall Name; and the Inquisition or Tryal of such Offences,\nthere, shall be made and had, by the Inhabitants of the said Ports, and\nMembers of the same._\n_By_ 11 _and_ 12 W. 3. c. 7. _If any natural born Subjects or Denizons of_\nEngland, _commit Pyracy, or any Act of Hostility, against his Majesty's\nSubjects at Sea, under Colour of a Commission or Authority, from any\nforeign Prince or State, or Person whatsoever, such Offenders shall be\nadjudged Pyrates._\n_If any Commander or Master of a Ship, or Seaman or Mariner, give up his\nShip_, &c. _to Pyrates, or combine to yield up, or run away with any Ship,\nor lay violent Hand on his Commander, or endeavour to make a Revolt in the\nShip, he shall be adjudged a Pyrate._\n_All Persons who after the_ 29_th of_ September 1720, _shall set forth any\nPyrate (or be aiding and assisting to any such Pyrate_,) _committing Pyracy\non Land or Sea, or shall conceal such Pyrates, or receive any Vessel or\nGoods pyratically taken, shall be adjudged accessary to such Pyracy, and\nsuffer as Principals._\n_By_ 4 G. c. 11. Sect. 7. _All Persons who have committed, or shall commit\nany Offences, for which they ought to be adjudged Pyrates, by the Act_ 11\n_and_ 12 W. 3. c. 7. _may be tried for every such Offence, in such Manner\nas by the Act_ 28 H. 8. c. 15. _is directed for the Tryal of Pyrates; and\nshall not have the Benefit of Clergy._\nSect. 8. _This Act shall not extend to Persons convicted or attainted in_\nScotland.\nSect. 9. _This Act shall extend to his Majesty's Dominions in_ America,\n_and be taken as a publick Act._\nFINIS.\nNext Week will be published,\nNOTES on several Chyrurgical Subjects. By JOHN ATKINS, Surgeon.\nN. B. One entire Chapter on the Distempers of _Guiney._ Printed for _T.\nWarner_ in _Pater-Noster-Row._", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  A General History of the Pyrates\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " French\n", "content": "Produced by www.ebooksgratuits.com and Chuck Greif\nDaniel Defoe\nMOLL FLANDERS\nTraduction de Marcel Schwob\nTable des mati\u00e8res\nPR\u00c9FACE DU TRADUCTEUR\nMOLL FLANDERS\n                      PR\u00c9FACE DU TRADUCTEUR\n_La fortune litt\u00e9raire de Robinson Cruso\u00e9 a \u00e9t\u00e9 si prodigieuse que le\nnom de l'auteur, aux yeux du public, a presque disparu sous sa gloire.\nSi Daniel de Fo\u00eb avait eu la pr\u00e9caution de faire suivre sa signature du\ntitre qu'il avait \u00e0 la c\u00e9l\u00e9brit\u00e9_, la Peste de Londres, Roxana, le\nColonel Jacques, le Capitaine Singleton et Moll Flanders _auraient fait\nleur chemin dans le monde. Mais il n'en a pas \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi. Pareille\naventure \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Cervantes, apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9crit_ Don Quichotte.\n_Car on ne lut gu\u00e8re ses admirables nouvelles, son th\u00e9\u00e2tre,\nsans compter_ Galath\u00e9e _et_ Persiles y Sigismunde.\n_Cervantes et Daniel de Fo\u00eb ne compos\u00e8rent leurs grandes oeuvres\nqu'apr\u00e8s avoir d\u00e9pass\u00e9 l'\u00e2ge m\u00fbr. Tous deux avaient men\u00e9 auparavant une\nvie tr\u00e8s active: Cervantes, longtemps prisonnier, ayant vu les hommes et\nles choses, la guerre et la paix, mutil\u00e9 d'une main. De Fo\u00eb, prisonnier\naussi \u00e0 Newgate, expos\u00e9 au pilori, m\u00eal\u00e9 au brassage des affaires\npolitiques au milieu d'une r\u00e9volution; l'un et l'autre harcel\u00e9s par des\nennuis d'argent, l'un par des dettes, l'autre par des faillites\nsuccessives; l'un et l'autre \u00e9nergiques, r\u00e9sistants, dou\u00e9s d'une\nextraordinaire force de travail. Et, ainsi que Don Quichotte contient\nl'histoire id\u00e9ale de Cervantes transpos\u00e9e dans la fiction, Robinson\nCruso\u00e9 est l'histoire de Daniel de Fo\u00eb au milieu des difficult\u00e9s de la\nvie._\n_C'est de Fo\u00eb lui-m\u00eame qui l'a d\u00e9clar\u00e9 dans la pr\u00e9face au troisi\u00e8me\nvolume de_ Robinson: _S\u00e9rieuses r\u00e9flexions durant la vie et les\nsurprenantes aventures de Robinson Cruso\u00e9. \u00abCe roman, \u00e9crit de Fo\u00eb, bien\nqu'all\u00e9gorique est aussi historique. De plus, il existe un homme bien\nconnu dont la vie et les actions forment le sujet de ce volume, et\nauquel presque toutes les parties de l'histoire font directement\nallusion. Ceci est la pure v\u00e9rit\u00e9.... Il n'y a pas une circonstance de\nl'histoire imaginaire qui ne soit calqu\u00e9e sur l'histoire r\u00e9elle.... C'est\nl'exposition d'une sc\u00e8ne enti\u00e8re de vie r\u00e9elle durant vingt-huit ann\u00e9es\npass\u00e9es dans les circonstances les plus errantes, affligeantes et\nd\u00e9sol\u00e9es que jamais homme ait travers\u00e9es; et o\u00f9 j'ai v\u00e9cu si longtemps\nd'une vie d'\u00e9tranges merveilles, parmi de continuelles temp\u00eates; o\u00f9 je\nme suis battu avec la pire esp\u00e8ce de sauvages et de cannibales, en\nd'innombrables et surprenants incidents; o\u00f9 j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 nourri par des\nmiracles plus grands que celui des corbeaux; o\u00f9 j'ai souffert toute\nmani\u00e8re de violences et d'oppressions, d'injures, de reproches, de\nm\u00e9pris des humains, d'attaques de d\u00e9mons, de corrections du ciel et\nd'oppositions sur terre....\u00bb Puis, traitant de la repr\u00e9sentation fictive\nde l'emprisonnement forc\u00e9 de Robinson dans son \u00eele, de Fo\u00eb ajoute: \u00abIl\nest aussi raisonnable de repr\u00e9senter une esp\u00e8ce d'emprisonnement par une\nautre, que de repr\u00e9senter n'importe quelle chose qui existe r\u00e9ellement\npar une autre qui n'existe pas. Si j'avais adopt\u00e9 la fa\u00e7on ordinaire\nd'\u00e9crire l'histoire priv\u00e9e d'un homme, en vous exposant la conduite ou\nla vie que vous connaissiez, et sur les malheurs ou d\u00e9faillances de\nlaquelle vous aviez parfois injustement triomph\u00e9, tout ce que j'aurais\ndit ne vous aurait donn\u00e9 aucune diversion, aurait obtenu \u00e0 peine\nl'honneur d'une lecture, ou mieux point d'attention.\u00bb_\n_Nous devons donc consid\u00e9rer Robinson Cruso\u00e9 comme une all\u00e9gorie, un\nsymbole_ (emblem) _qui enveloppe un livre dont le fond e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 peut-\u00eatre\nassez analogue aux_ M\u00e9moires _de Beaumarchais, mais que de Fo\u00eb ne voulut\npas \u00e9crire directement. Tous les autres romans de de Fo\u00eb doivent \u00eatre\nsemblablement interpr\u00e9t\u00e9s. Ayant r\u00e9duit sa propre vie par la pens\u00e9e \u00e0 la\nsimplicit\u00e9 absolue afin de la repr\u00e9senter en art, il transforma\nplusieurs fois les symboles et les appliqua \u00e0 diverses sortes d'\u00eatres\nhumains. C'est l'existence mat\u00e9rielle de l'homme, et sa difficult\u00e9, qui\na le plus puissamment frapp\u00e9 l'esprit de de Fo\u00eb. Il y avait de bonnes\nraisons pour cela. Et ainsi que lui-m\u00eame a lutt\u00e9, solitaire, pour\nobtenir une petite aisance et une protection contre les intemp\u00e9ries du\nmonde, ses h\u00e9ros et h\u00e9ro\u00efnes sont des solitaires qui essayent de vivre\nen d\u00e9pit de la nature et des hommes._\n_Robinson, jet\u00e9 sur une \u00eele d\u00e9serte, arrache \u00e0 la terre ce qu'il lui\nfaut pour manger son pain quotidien; le pauvre Jacques, n\u00e9 parmi des\nvoleurs, vit \u00e0 sa mani\u00e8re pour l'amour seul de l'existence, et sans rien\nposs\u00e9der, tremblant seulement le jour o\u00f9 il a trouv\u00e9 une bourse pleine\nd'or; Bob Singleton, le petit pirate, abandonn\u00e9 sur mer, conquiert de\nses seules mains son droit \u00e0 vivre avec des moyens criminels; la\ncourtisane Roxana parvient p\u00e9niblement, apr\u00e8s une vie honteuse, \u00e0\nobtenir le respect de gens qui ignorent son pass\u00e9; le malheureux\nsellier, rest\u00e9 \u00e0 Londres au milieu de la peste, arrange sa vie et se\nprot\u00e8ge du mieux qu'il peut en d\u00e9pit de l'affreuse \u00e9pid\u00e9mie; enfin Moll\nFlanders, apr\u00e8s une vie de prostitution de calcul, ruin\u00e9e, ayant\nquarante-huit ans d\u00e9j\u00e0, et ne pouvant plus trafiquer de rien, aussi\nsolitaire au milieu de la populeuse cit\u00e9 de Londres qu'Alexandre Selkirk\ndans l'\u00eele de Juan-Hernandez, se fait voleuse isol\u00e9e pour manger \u00e0 sa\nfaim, et chaque vol successif semblant l'accroissement de bien-\u00eatre que\nRobinson d\u00e9couvre dans ses travaux, parvient dans un \u00e2ge recul\u00e9, malgr\u00e9\nl'emprisonnement et la d\u00e9portation, \u00e0 une sorte de s\u00e9curit\u00e9._\n_Les \u00abHeurs et Malheurs de la Fameuse Moll Flanders, etc., qui naquit \u00e0\nNewgate, et, durant une vie continuellement vari\u00e9e de trois fois vingt\nans, outre son enfance, fut douze ans prostitu\u00e9e, cinq fois mari\u00e9e (dont\nl'une \u00e0 son propre fr\u00e8re), douze ans voleuse, huit ans f\u00e9lonne d\u00e9port\u00e9e\nen Virginie, finalement devint riche, v\u00e9cut honn\u00eate, et mourut\nrepentante; \u00e9crits d'apr\u00e8s ces propres m\u00e9moires\u00bb, ils parurent le 27\nJanvier 1722._\n_De Fo\u00eb avait soixante et un ans. Trois ans auparavant, il avait d\u00e9but\u00e9\ndans le roman par_ Robinson Cruso\u00e9. _En juin 1720, il avait publi\u00e9_ le\nCapitaine Singleton. _Moins de deux mois apr\u00e8s_ Moll Flanders _(17 mars\n1722), il donnait un nouveau chef-d'oeuvre,_ le Journal de la peste de\nLondres, _son deux cent treizi\u00e8me ouvrage (on en conna\u00eet deux cent\ncinquante-quatre) depuis 1687._\n_Les biographes de de Fo\u00eb ignorent quelle fut l'origine du roman_ Moll\nFlanders. _Sans doute l'id\u00e9e lui en vint pendant son emprisonnement d'un\nan et demi \u00e0 Newgate en 1704. On en est r\u00e9duit, pour expliquer le nom de\nl'h\u00e9ro\u00efne, \u00e0 noter cette co\u00efncidence: dans le_ Post-Boy _du 9 janvier\n1722, et aux num\u00e9ros pr\u00e9c\u00e9dents, figure, l'annonce des livres en vente\nchez John Darby, et entre autres_ l'Histoire des Flandres _avec une\ncarte par Moll._\n_D'autre part, M. William Lee a retrouv\u00e9_ dans Applebee's Journal, _dont\nde Fo\u00eb \u00e9tait le principal r\u00e9dacteur, une lettre sign\u00e9e Moll, \u00e9crite de\nla Foire aux Chiffons, \u00e0 la date du 16 juillet 1720. Cette femme est\nsuppos\u00e9e s'adresser \u00e0 de Fo\u00eb pour lui demander conseil. Elle s'exprime\ndans un singulier m\u00e9lange de_ slang _et d'anglais. Elle a \u00e9t\u00e9 voleuse et\nd\u00e9port\u00e9e. Mais, ayant amass\u00e9 un peu d'argent, elle a trouv\u00e9 le moyen de\nrevenir en Angleterre o\u00f9 elle est en rupture de ban. Le malheur veut\nqu'elle ait rencontr\u00e9 un ancien camarade. \u00abIl me salue publiquement dans\nla rue, avec un cri prolong\u00e9:--\u00d4 excellente Moll, es-tu donc sortie de\nla tombe? n'\u00e9tais-tu pas d\u00e9port\u00e9e?--Tais-toi Jack, dis-je, pour l'amour\nde Dieu! quoi, veux-tu donc me perdre?--Moi? dit-il, allons coquine,\ndonne-moi une pi\u00e8ce de douze, ou je cours te d\u00e9noncer sur-le-champ....\nJ'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 forc\u00e9e de c\u00e9der et le mis\u00e9rable va me traiter comme une vache \u00e0\nlait tout le reste de mes jours.\u00bbAinsi, d\u00e8s le mois de juillet 1720, de\nFo\u00eb se pr\u00e9occupait du cas mat\u00e9riel et moral d'une voleuse en rupture de\nban, expos\u00e9e au chantage, et imaginait de le faire raconter par Moll\nelle-m\u00eame._\n_Mais ceux qui ont \u00e9tudi\u00e9 de Fo\u00eb ne semblent pas avoir attach\u00e9 assez\nd'importance \u00e0 un fait bien significatif. De Fo\u00eb explique, dans sa\npr\u00e9face, qu'il se borne \u00e0 publier un manuscrit de M\u00e9moires corrig\u00e9 et un\npeu expurg\u00e9. \u00abNous ne pouvons dire que cette histoire contienne la fin\nde la vie de cette fameuse Moll Flanders, car personne ne saurait \u00e9crire\nsa propre vie jusqu'\u00e0 la fin, \u00e0 moins de l'\u00e9crire apr\u00e8s la mort; mais la\nvie de son mari, \u00e9crite par une troisi\u00e8me main, expose en d\u00e9tail comment\nils v\u00e9curent ensemble en Am\u00e9rique, puis revinrent tous deux en\nAngleterre, au bout de huit ans, \u00e9tant devenus tr\u00e8s riches, o\u00f9 elle\nv\u00e9cut, dit-on, jusqu'\u00e0 un \u00e2ge tr\u00e8s avanc\u00e9, mais ne parut point\nextraordinairement repentante, sauf qu'en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 elle parlait toujours\navec r\u00e9pugnance de sa vie d'autrefois.\u00bb Et de Fo\u00eb termine le livre par\ncette mention: \u00c9crit en 1683._\n_C'est ainsi que, pour le_ Journal de la Peste, _de Fo\u00eb a tenu \u00e0\nindiquer, par une note, l'endroit o\u00f9 est enterr\u00e9 l'auteur, qu'il\nsupposait mort depuis longtemps. En effet, de Fo\u00eb avait quatre ans au\nmoment de l'\u00e9pid\u00e9mie (1665), et il n'en \u00e9crivit le_ Journal _qu'en\n1722--cinquante-sept ans plus tard.--Mais il voulait que l'on consid\u00e9r\u00e2t\nson oeuvre comme les notes d'un t\u00e9moin. Il para\u00eetrait y avoir eu moins\nde n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de dater les m\u00e9moires de Moll Flanders en reculant l'ann\u00e9e\njusqu'en 1683, si toutefois l'existence d'une v\u00e9ritable Moll, vers cette\n\u00e9poque, ne venait pas appuyer la fiction de Fo\u00eb._\n_Or, une certaine Mary Frith, ou Moll la Coupeuse de bourses, resta\nc\u00e9l\u00e8bre au moins jusqu'en 1668. Elle mourut extr\u00eamement \u00e2g\u00e9e. Elle avait\nconnu les contemporains de Shakespeare, peut-\u00eatre Shakespeare lui-m\u00eame.\nVoici ce qu'en rapporte Granger_ (Suppl\u00e9ment \u00e0 l'histoire biographique,\n_\u00abMary Frith, ou Moll la Coupeuse de bourses, nom sous lequel on la\nd\u00e9signait g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement, \u00e9tait une femme d'esprit masculin qui commit,\nsoit en personne, soit comme complice, presque tous les crimes et folies\nnotoires chez les pires excentriques des deux sexes. Elle fut inf\u00e2me\ncomme prostitu\u00e9e et prox\u00e9n\u00e8te, diseuse de bonne aventure, pickpocket,\nvoleuse et receleuse; elle fut aussi la complice d'un adroit faussaire.\nSon exploit le plus signal\u00e9 fut de d\u00e9pouiller le g\u00e9n\u00e9ral Fairfax sur la\nbruy\u00e8re de Hounslow, ce qui la fit envoyer \u00e0 la prison de Newgate; mais\ngr\u00e2ce \u00e0 une forte somme d'argent, elle fut remise en libert\u00e9. Elle\nmourut d'hydropisie, \u00e0 l'\u00e2ge de soixante-quinze ans, mais serait\nprobablement morte auparavant, si elle n'avait eu l'habitude de fumer du\ntabac depuis de longues ann\u00e9es.\u00bb_\n_M. Dodsley_ (Old Plays, _vol. VI) a copi\u00e9 la note suivante dans un\nmanuscrit du British Mus\u00e9um:_\n_\u00abMme Mary Friths, alias Moll la Coupeuse de bourses, n\u00e9e dans Barbican,\nfille d'un cordonnier, mourut en sa maison de Fleet Street, pr\u00e8s de la\nTaverne du Globe, le 26 juillet 1659, et fut enterr\u00e9e \u00e0 l'\u00e9glise de\nSainte-Brigitte. Elle laissa par testament vingt livres \u00e0 l'effet de\nfaire couler du vin par les conduites d'eau lors du retour de\nCharles II, qui survint peu apr\u00e8s.\u00bb_\n_M. Steevens, dans ses commentaires sur Shakespeare_ (Twelfth Night, _A.\nI, Sc. III) note, sur les registres de la Stationer's Company, pour ao\u00fbt\n1610, l'entr\u00e9e \u00abd'un livre nomm\u00e9_ les Folies de la joyeuse Moll de\nBankside, _avec ses promenades en v\u00eatements d'homme et leur explication,\npar John Day\u00bb._\n_En 1611, Thomas Middleton et Dekkar \u00e9crivirent sur Moll leur c\u00e9l\u00e8bre\ncom\u00e9die_ The Roaring Girl _ou_ Moll la coupeuse de bourses.... _Le\nfrontispice la repr\u00e9sente v\u00eatue en homme, l'oeil oblique, la bouche\ntordue, avec ces mots en l\u00e9gende:_\n_\u00abMon cas est chang\u00e9: il faut que je travaille pour vivre.\u00bb_\n_Nathaniel Field la cite, en 1639, dans sa com\u00e9die_ Amends fort Ladies.\n_Sa vie fut publi\u00e9e en in-12, en 1662, avec son portrait en habits\nd'homme: elle a pr\u00e8s d'elle un singe, un lion et un aigle. Dans la pi\u00e8ce\ndu_ Faux Astrologue _(1668), on la mentionne comme morte._\n_Ainsi John Day, Nathaniel Field, Thomas Middleton, Thomas Dekkar,\ncompagnons de Shakespeare, firent des pi\u00e8ces sur Moll d\u00e8s 1610 jusqu'en\n1659. Il para\u00eet qu'elle vivait encore lorsqu'on publia sa vie en 1662.\nToujours est-il qu'elle resta longtemps c\u00e9l\u00e8bre. Le capitaine Hohnson\nplace sa biographie parmi celles des grands voleurs dans son_ Histoire\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale des Assassins, Voleurs et Pirates, etc. _(1736) ce qui indique\nla persistance d'une tradition. Ceux qui donn\u00e8rent \u00e0 Daniel de Fo\u00eb de si\npr\u00e9cis d\u00e9tails sur la peste de 1665 durent lui raconter mainte histoire\nsur l'extraordinaire vie de cette vieille femme, morte riche, apr\u00e8s une\nexistence inf\u00e2me, \u00e0 soixante-quinze ans. Le frontispice de la pi\u00e8ce de\nMiddleton, avec sa l\u00e9gende, s'appliquerait \u00e0 Moll Flanders. De Fo\u00eb\ninsiste dans son livre sur les v\u00eatements d'homme que porte Moll. Ce\nn'est certes pas l\u00e0 un trait ordinaire. Il a d\u00fb voir aussi dans sa\njeunesse les nombreuses pi\u00e8ces de th\u00e9\u00e2tre o\u00f9 figurait ce personnage\npopulaire. Le livre de colportage contenant l'histoire de la vie de Moll\nla Coupeuse de bourses a certainement \u00e9t\u00e9 feuillet\u00e9 par lui. Il la fait\nnommer avec admiration par Moll Flanders. Enfin, la preuve m\u00eame de\nl'identit\u00e9 de Mary Frith avec Moll Flanders, c'est la date de 1683 que\nde Fo\u00eb assigne aux pr\u00e9tendus M\u00e9moires compl\u00e9t\u00e9s par une troisi\u00e8me main.\nLa tradition lui permettait de croire que la vieille Mary Frith avait\nv\u00e9cu jusqu'aux environs de cette ann\u00e9e. Nous n'avons aucune preuve\nformelle de la date pr\u00e9cise de sa mort._\n_La vie de Mary Frith a donc jou\u00e9 pour_ Moll Flanders _le m\u00eame r\u00f4le que\nla relation d'Alexandre Selkirk pour_ Robinson Cruso\u00e9. _C'est l'embryon\nr\u00e9el que de Fo\u00eb a fait germer en fiction. C'est le point de d\u00e9part d'un\nd\u00e9veloppement qui a une port\u00e9e bien plus haute. Mais il \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire\nde montrer que l'imagination de Daniel de Fo\u00eb construit le plus\npuissamment sur des r\u00e9alit\u00e9s, car Daniel de Fo\u00eb est un \u00e9crivain\nextr\u00eamement r\u00e9aliste. Si un livre peut \u00eatre compar\u00e9 \u00e0_ Moll Flanders,_\nc'est_ Germinie Lacerteux; _mais Moll Flanders n'agit que par passion de\nvivre, tandis que MM. de Goncourt ont analys\u00e9 d'autres mobiles chez\nGerminie. Ici, il semble qu'on entende retentir \u00e0 chaque page les\nparoles de la pri\u00e8re: \u00abMon Dieu, donnez-nous notre pain quotidien!\u00bb Par\nce seul aiguillon Moll Flanders est excit\u00e9e au vice, puis au vol, et peu\n\u00e0 peu le vol, qui a \u00e9t\u00e9 terriblement conscient au d\u00e9but, d\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e8re en\nhabitude, et Moll Flanders vole pour voler._\n_Et ce n'est pas seulement dans_ Moll Flanders _qu'on entend la pri\u00e8re\nde la faim. Les livres de Daniel de Fo\u00eb ne sont que le d\u00e9veloppement des\ndeux supplications de l'humanit\u00e9: \u00abMon Dieu, donnez-nous notre pain\nquotidien;--mon Dieu, pr\u00e9servez-nous de la tentation!\u00bb Ce furent les\nparoles qui hant\u00e8rent sa vie et son imagination, jusqu'\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re\nlettre qu'il \u00e9crivit pour sa fille et pour son gendre quelques jours\navant sa mort._\n_Je ne veux point parler ici de la puissance artistique de Daniel de\nFo\u00eb. Il suffira de lire et d'admirer la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 nue des sentiments et des\nactions. Ceux qui n'aiment pas seulement_ Robinson _comme le livre de\nleur enfance trouveront dans_ Moll Flanders _les m\u00eames plaisirs et les\nm\u00eames terreurs._\n_Georges Borrow raconte dans_ Lavengro _qu'il rencontra sur le pont de\nLondres une vieille femme qui ne lisait qu'un livre. Elle ne voulait le\nvendre \u00e0 aucun prix. Elle y trouvait tout son amusement et toute sa\nconsolation. C'\u00e9tait un ancien livre aux pages us\u00e9es, Borrow en lut\nquelques lignes: aussit\u00f4t il reconnut l'air, le style, l'esprit de\nl'\u00e9crivain du livre o\u00f9 d'abord il avait appris \u00e0 lire. Il couvrit son\nvisage de ses mains, et pensa \u00e0 son enfance.... Ce livre de la vieille\nfemme \u00e9tait_ Moll Flanders.\n_Il me reste \u00e0 dire quelques mots de ma traduction. Je sens qu'elle est\nbien imparfaite, mais elle a au moins un m\u00e9rite: partout o\u00f9 cela a \u00e9t\u00e9\npossible, les phrases ont conserv\u00e9 le mouvement et les coupures de la\nprose de de Fo\u00eb. J'ai respect\u00e9 la couleur du style autant que j'ai pu.\nLes nonchalances de langage et les redites exquises de la narratrice ont\n\u00e9t\u00e9 rendues avec le plus grand soin. Enfin j'ai essay\u00e9 de mettre sous\nles yeux du lecteur fran\u00e7ais l'oeuvre m\u00eame de Daniel de Fo\u00eb._\nMon v\u00e9ritable nom est si bien connu dans les archives ou registres des\nprisons de Newgate et de Old Bailey et certaines choses de telle\nimportance en d\u00e9pendent encore, qui sont relatives \u00e0 ma conduite\nparticuli\u00e8re, qu'il ne faut pas attendre que je fasse mention ici de mon\nnom ou de l'origine de ma famille; peut-\u00eatre apr\u00e8s ma mort ceci sera\nmieux connu; \u00e0 pr\u00e9sent il n'y aurait nulle convenance, non, quand m\u00eame\non donnerait pleine et enti\u00e8re r\u00e9mission, sans exception de personnes ou\nde crimes.\nIl suffira de vous dire que certaines de mes pires camarades, hors\nd'\u00e9tat de me faire du mal, car elles sont sorties de ce monde par le\nchemin de l'\u00e9chelle et de la corde que moi-m\u00eame j'ai souvent pens\u00e9\nprendre, m'ayant connue par le nom de Moll Flanders, vous me permettrez\nde passer sous ce nom jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'ose avouer tout ensemble qui j'ai\n\u00e9t\u00e9 et qui je suis.\nOn m'a dit que dans une nation voisine, soit en France, soit ailleurs,\nje n'en sais rien, il y a un ordre du roi, lorsqu'un criminel est\ncondamn\u00e9 ou \u00e0 mourir ou aux gal\u00e8res ou \u00e0 \u00eatre d\u00e9port\u00e9, et qu'il laisse\ndes enfants (qui sont d'ordinaire sans ressource par la confiscation des\nbiens de leurs parents), pour que ces enfants soient imm\u00e9diatement\nplac\u00e9s sous la direction du gouvernement et transport\u00e9s dans un h\u00f4pital\nqu'on nomme Maison des Orphelins, o\u00f9 ils sont \u00e9lev\u00e9s, v\u00eatus, nourris,\ninstruits, et au temps de leur sortie entrent en apprentissage ou en\nservice, tellement qu'ils sont capables de gagner leur vie par une\nconduite honn\u00eate et industrieuse.\nSi telle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 la coutume de notre pays, je n'aurais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 laiss\u00e9e,\npauvre fille d\u00e9sol\u00e9e, sans amis, sans v\u00eatements, sans aide, sans\npersonne pour m'aider, comme fut mon sort; par quoi je fus non seulement\nexpos\u00e9e \u00e0 de tr\u00e8s grandes d\u00e9tresses, m\u00eame avant de pouvoir ou comprendre\nma situation ou l'amender, mais encore jet\u00e9e \u00e0 une vie scandaleuse en\nelle-m\u00eame, et qui par son ordinaire cours am\u00e8ne la destruction de l'\u00e2me\net du corps.\nMais ici le cas fut diff\u00e9rent. Ma m\u00e8re fut convaincue de f\u00e9lonie pour un\npetit vol \u00e0 peine digne d'\u00eatre rapport\u00e9: elle avait emprunt\u00e9 trois\npi\u00e8ces de fine Hollande \u00e0 un certain drapier dans Cheapside; les d\u00e9tails\nen sont trop longs \u00e0 r\u00e9p\u00e9ter, et je les ai entendus raconter de tant de\nfa\u00e7ons que je puis \u00e0 peine dire quel est le r\u00e9cit exact.\nQuoiqu'il en soit, ils s'accordent tous en ceci, que ma m\u00e8re plaida son\nventre, qu'on la trouva grosse, et qu'elle eut sept mois de r\u00e9pit; apr\u00e8s\nquoi on la saisit (comme ils disent) du premier jugement; mais elle\nobtint ensuite la faveur d'\u00eatre d\u00e9port\u00e9e aux plantations, et me laissa,\nn'\u00e9tant pas \u00e2g\u00e9e de la moiti\u00e9 d'un an, et en mauvaises mains, comme vous\npouvez croire.\nCeci est trop pr\u00e8s des premi\u00e8res heures de ma vie pour que je puisse\nraconter aucune chose de moi, sinon par ou\u00ef-dire; il suffira de\nmentionner que je naquis dans un si malheureux endroit qu'il n'y avait\npoint de paroisse pour y avoir recours afin de me nourrir dans ma petite\nenfance, et je ne peux pas expliquer le moins du monde comment on me fit\nvivre; si ce n'est qu'une parente de ma m\u00e8re (ainsi qu'on me l'a dit)\nm'emmena avec elle, mais aux frais de qui, ou par l'ordre de qui, c'est\nce dont je ne sais rien.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose dont je puisse me souvenir, ou que j'aie pu jamais\napprendre sur moi, c'est que j'arrivai \u00e0 \u00eatre m\u00eal\u00e9e dans une bande de\nces gens qu'on nomme Boh\u00e9miens ou \u00c9gyptiens; mais je pense que je restai\nbien peu de temps parmi eux, car ils ne d\u00e9color\u00e8rent point ma peau,\ncomme ils le font \u00e0 tous les enfants qu'ils emm\u00e8nent, et je ne puis dire\ncomment je vins parmi eux ni comment je les quittai.\nCe fut \u00e0 Colchester, en Essex, que ces gens m'abandonn\u00e8rent; et j'ai\ndans la t\u00eate la notion que c'est moi qui les abandonnai (c'est-\u00e0-dire\nque je me cachai et ne voulus pas aller plus loin avec eux), mais je ne\nsaurais rien affirmer l\u00e0-dessus. Je me rappelle seulement qu'ayant \u00e9t\u00e9\nprise par des officiers de la paroisse de Colchester, je leur r\u00e9pondis\nque j'\u00e9tais venue en ville avec les \u00c9gyptiens, mais que je ne voulais\npas aller plus loin avec eux, et qu'ainsi ils m'avaient laiss\u00e9e; mais o\u00f9\nils \u00e9taient all\u00e9s, voil\u00e0 ce que je ne savais pas; car, ayant envoy\u00e9 des\ngens par le pays pour s'enqu\u00e9rir, il para\u00eet qu'on ne put les trouver.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant en point d'\u00eatre pourvue; car bien que je ne fusse pas\nl\u00e9galement \u00e0 la charge de la paroisse pour telle au telle partie de la\nville, pourtant, d\u00e8s qu'on connut ma situation et qu'on sut que j'\u00e9tais\ntrop jeune pour travailler, n'ayant pas plus de trois ans d'\u00e2ge, la\npiti\u00e9 \u00e9mut les magistrats de la ville, et ils d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent de me prendre\nsous leur garde, et je devins \u00e0 eux tout comme si je fusse n\u00e9e dans la\ncit\u00e9.\nDans la provision qu'ils firent pour moi, j'eus la chance d'\u00eatre mise en\nnourrice, comme ils disent, chez une bonne femme qui \u00e9tait pauvre, en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, mais qui avait connu de meilleurs jours, et qui gagnait\npetitement sa vie en \u00e9levant des enfants tels qu'on me supposait \u00eatre,\net en les entretenant en toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires jusqu'\u00e0 l'\u00e2ge o\u00f9 l'on\npensait qu'ils pourraient entrer en service ou gagner leur propre pain.\nCette bonne femme avait aussi une petite \u00e9cole qu'elle tenait pour\nenseigner aux enfants \u00e0 lire et \u00e0 coudre; et ayant, comme j'ai dit,\nautrefois v\u00e9cu en bonne fa\u00e7on, elle \u00e9levait les enfants avec beaucoup\nd'art autant qu'avec beaucoup de soin.\nMais, ce qui valait tout le reste, elle les \u00e9levait tr\u00e8s religieusement\naussi, \u00e9tant elle-m\u00eame une femme bien sobre et pieuse, secondement bonne\nm\u00e9nag\u00e8re et propre, et troisi\u00e8mement de fa\u00e7ons et moeurs honn\u00eates. Si\nbien qu'\u00e0 ne point parler de la nourriture commune, du rude logement et\ndes v\u00eatements grossiers, nous \u00e9tions \u00e9lev\u00e9s aussi civilement qu'\u00e0 la\nclasse d'un ma\u00eetre de danse.\nJe continuai l\u00e0 jusqu'\u00e0 l'\u00e2ge de huit ans, quand je fus terrifi\u00e9e par la\nnouvelle que les magistrats (je crois qu'on les nommait ainsi) avaient\ndonn\u00e9 l'ordre de me mettre en service; je ne pouvais faire que bien peu\nde chose, o\u00f9 qu'on m'envoy\u00e2t, sinon aller en course, ou servir de\nsouillon \u00e0 quelque fille de cuisine; et comme on me le r\u00e9p\u00e9tait souvent,\nj'en pris une grande frayeur; car j'avais une extr\u00eame aversion \u00e0 entrer\nen service, comme ils disaient, bien que je fusse si jeune; et je dis \u00e0\nma nourrice que je croyais pouvoir gagner ma vie sans entrer en service,\nsi elle voulait bien me le permettre; car elle m'avait appris \u00e0\ntravailler de mon aiguille et \u00e0 filer de la grosse laine, qui est la\nprincipale industrie de cette ville, et je lui dis que si elle voulait\nbien me garder, je travaillerais bien fort.\nJe lui parlais presque chaque jour de travailler bien fort et, en somme,\nje ne faisais que travailler et pleurer tout le temps, ce qui affligea\ntellement l'excellente bonne femme qu'enfin elle se mit \u00e0 s'inqui\u00e9ter de\nmoi: car elle m'aimait beaucoup.\nL\u00e0-dessus, un jour, comme elle entrait dans la chambre o\u00f9 tous les\npauvres enfants \u00e9taient au travail, elle s'assit juste en face de moi;\nnon pas \u00e0 sa place habituelle de ma\u00eetresse mais comme si elle se\ndisposait \u00e0 dessein pour m'observer et me regarder travailler; j'\u00e9tais\nen train de faire un ouvrage auquel elle m'avait mise, et je me souviens\nque c'\u00e9tait \u00e0 marquer des chemises; et apr\u00e8s un temps elle commen\u00e7a de\nme parler:\n--Petite sotte, dit-elle, tu es toujours \u00e0 pleurer (et je pleurais\nalors), dis-moi pourquoi tu pleures.\n--Parce qu'ils vont m'emmener, dis-je, et me mettre en service, et je ne\npeux pas faire le travail de m\u00e9nage.\n--Eh bien, mon enfant, dit-elle, il est possible que tu ne puisses pas\nfaire le travail de m\u00e9nage, mais tu l'apprendras plus tard, et on ne te\nmettra pas au gros ouvrage tout de suite.\n--Si, on m'y mettra, dis-je, et si je ne peux pas le faire, on me\nbattra, et les servantes me battront pour me faire faire le gros\nouvrage, et je ne suis qu'une petite fille, et je ne peux pas le faire!\nEt je me remis \u00e0 pleurer jusqu'\u00e0 ne plus pouvoir parler.\nCeci \u00e9mut ma bonne nourrice maternelle; si bien qu'elle r\u00e9solut que je\nn'entrerais pas encore en condition; et elle me dit de ne pas pleurer,\net qu'elle parlerait \u00e0 M. le maire et que je n'entrerais en service que\nquand je serais plus grande.\nEh bien, ceci ne me satisfit pas; car la seule id\u00e9e d'entrer en\ncondition \u00e9tait pour moi une chose si terrible que si elle m'avait\nassur\u00e9 que je n'y entrerais pas avant l'\u00e2ge de vingt ans, cela aurait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 enti\u00e8rement pareil pour moi; j'aurais pleur\u00e9 tout le temps, rien\nqu'\u00e0 l'appr\u00e9hension que la chose finirait par arriver.\nQuand elle vit que je n'\u00e9tais pas apais\u00e9e, elle se mit en col\u00e8re avec\nmoi:\n--Et que veux-tu donc de plus, dit-elle, puisque je te dis que tu\nn'entreras en service que quand tu seras plus grande?\n--Oui, dis-je, mais il faudra tout de m\u00eame que j'y entre, \u00e0 la fin.\n--Mais quoi, dit-elle, est-ce que cette fille est folle? Quoi, tu veux\ndonc \u00eatre une dame de qualit\u00e9?\n--Oui, dis-je, et je pleurai de tout mon coeur, jusqu'\u00e0 \u00e9clater encore\nen sanglots.\nCeci fit rire la vieille demoiselle, comme vous pouvez bien penser.\n--Eh bien, madame, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, dit-elle, en se moquant de moi, vous\nvoulez donc \u00eatre une dame de qualit\u00e9, et comment ferez-vous pour devenir\ndame de qualit\u00e9? est-ce avec le bout de vos doigts?\n--Oui, dis-je encore innocemment.\n--Mais voyons, qu'est-ce que tu peux gagner, dit-elle; qu'est-ce que tu\npeux gagner par jour en travaillant?\n--Six sous, dis-je, quand je file, et huit sous quand je couds du gros\nlinge.\n--H\u00e9las! pauvre dame de qualit\u00e9, dit-elle encore en riant, cela ne te\nm\u00e8nera pas loin.\n--Cela me suffira, dis-je, si vous voulez bien me laisser vivre avec\nvous.\nEt je parlais d'un si pauvre ton suppliant que j'\u00e9treignis le coeur de\nla bonne femme, comme elle me dit plus tard.\n--Mais, dit-elle, cela ne suffira pas \u00e0 te nourrir et \u00e0 t'acheter des\nv\u00eatements; et qui donc ach\u00e8tera des robes pour la petite dame de\nqualit\u00e9? dit-elle.\nEt elle me souriait tout le temps.\n--Alors je travaillerai plus dur, dis-je, et je vous donnerai tout\nl'argent.\n--Mais, mon pauvre enfant, cela ne suffira pas, dit-elle; il y aura \u00e0\npeine de quoi te fournir d'aliments.\n--Alors vous ne me donnerez pas d'aliments, dis-je encore, innocemment;\nmais vous me laisserez vivre avec vous.\n--Et tu pourras vivre sans aliments? dit-elle.\n--Oui, dis-je encore, comme un enfant, vous pouvez bien penser, et je\npleurai encore de tout mon coeur.\nJe n'avais aucun calcul en tout ceci; vous pouvez facilement voir que\ntout \u00e9tait de nature; mais c'\u00e9tait joint \u00e0 tant d'innocence et \u00e0 tant de\npassion qu'en somme la bonne cr\u00e9ature maternelle se mit \u00e0 pleurer aussi,\net enfin sanglota aussi fort que moi, et me prit et me mena hors de la\nsalle d'\u00e9cole: \u00abViens, dit-elle, tu n'iras pas en service, tu vivras\navec moi\u00bb; et ceci me consola pour le moment.\nL\u00e0-dessus, elle alla faire visite au maire, mon affaire vint dans la\nconversation, et ma bonne nourrice raconta \u00e0 M. le maire toute\nl'histoire; il en fut si charm\u00e9 qu'il alla appeler sa femme et ses deux\nfilles pour l'entendre, et ils s'en amus\u00e8rent assez entre eux, comme\nvous pouvez bien penser.\nEnfin, une semaine ne s'\u00e9tait pas \u00e9coul\u00e9e, que voici tout \u00e0 coup madame\nla femme du maire et ses deux filles qui arrivent \u00e0 la maison pour voir\nma vieille nourrice, et visiter son \u00e9cole et les enfants. Apr\u00e8s qu'elles\nles eurent regard\u00e9s un peu de temps:\n--Eh bien, madame, dit la femme du maire \u00e0 ma nourrice, et quelle est\ndonc, je vous prie, la petite fille qui veut \u00eatre dame de qualit\u00e9?\nJe l'entendis et je fus affreusement effray\u00e9e, quoique sans savoir\npourquoi non plus; mais madame la femme du maire vient jusqu'\u00e0 moi:\n--Eh bien, mademoiselle, dit-elle, et quel ouvrage faites-vous en ce\nmoment?\nLe mot _mademoiselle_ \u00e9tait un langage qu'on n'avait gu\u00e8re entendu\nparler dans notre \u00e9cole, et je m'\u00e9tonnai de quel triste nom elle\nm'appelait; n\u00e9anmoins je me levai, fis une r\u00e9v\u00e9rence, et elle me prit\nmon ouvrage dans les mains, le regarda, et dit que c'\u00e9tait tr\u00e8s bien;\npuis elle regarda une de mes mains:\n--Ma foi, dit-elle, elle pourra devenir dame de qualit\u00e9, apr\u00e8s tout;\nelle a une main de dame, je vous assure.\nCeci me fit un immense plaisir; mais madame la femme du maire ne s'en\ntint pas l\u00e0, mais elle mit sa main dans sa poche et me donna un\nshilling, et me recommanda d'\u00eatre bien attentive \u00e0 mon ouvrage et\nd'apprendre \u00e0 bien travailler, et peut-\u00eatre je pourrais devenir une dame\nde qualit\u00e9, apr\u00e8s tout.\nEt tout ce temps ma bonne vieille nourrice, et madame la femme du maire\net tous les autres gens, ne me comprenaient nullement: car eux voulaient\ndire une sorte de chose par le mot dame de qualit\u00e9 et moi j'en voulais\ndire une toute diff\u00e9rente; car h\u00e9las! tout ce que je comprenais en\ndisant dame de qualit\u00e9, c'est que je pourrais travailler pour moi et\ngagner assez pour vivre sans entrer en service; tandis que pour eux cela\nsignifiait vivre dans une grande et haute position et je ne sais quoi.\nEh bien, apr\u00e8s que madame la femme du maire fut partie, ses deux filles\narriv\u00e8rent et demand\u00e8rent aussi \u00e0 voir la dame de qualit\u00e9, et elles me\nparl\u00e8rent longtemps, et je leur r\u00e9pondis \u00e0 ma guise innocente; mais\ntoujours lorsqu'elles me demandaient si j'avais r\u00e9solu de devenir une\ndame de qualit\u00e9, je r\u00e9pondais \u00aboui\u00bb: enfin elles me demand\u00e8rent ce que\nc'\u00e9tait qu'une dame de qualit\u00e9. Ceci me troubla fort: toutefois\nj'expliquai n\u00e9gativement que c'\u00e9tait une personne qui n'entrait pas en\nservice pour faire le m\u00e9nage; elles en furent extr\u00eamement charm\u00e9es, et\nmon petit babillage leur plut et leur sembla assez agr\u00e9able, et elles me\ndonn\u00e8rent aussi de l'argent.\nPour mon argent, je le donnai tout \u00e0 ma nourrice-ma\u00eetresse comme je\nl'appelais, et lui promis qu'elle aurait tout ce que je gagnerais quand\nje serais dame de qualit\u00e9, aussi bien que maintenant; par ceci et\nd'autres choses que je disais, ma vieille gouvernante commen\u00e7a de\ncomprendre ce que je voulais dire par dame de qualit\u00e9, et que ce n'\u00e9tait\npas plus que d'\u00eatre capable de gagner mon pain par mon propre travail et\nenfin elle me demanda si ce n'\u00e9tait pas cela.\nJe lui dis que oui, et j'insistai pour lui expliquer que vivre ainsi,\nc'\u00e9tait \u00eatre dame de qualit\u00e9; car, dis-je, il y a une telle, nommant une\nfemme qui raccommodait de la dentelle et lavait les coiffes de dentelle\ndes dames; elle, dis-je, c'est une dame de qualit\u00e9, et on l'appelle\n_madame_.\n--Pauvre enfant, dit ma bonne vieille nourrice, tu pourras bient\u00f4t \u00eatre\nune personne mal fam\u00e9e, et qui a eu deux b\u00e2tards.\nJe ne compris rien \u00e0 cela; mais je r\u00e9pondis: \u00abJe suis s\u00fbre qu'on\nl'appelle _madame_, et elle ne va pas en service, et elle ne fait pas le\nm\u00e9nage\u00bb; et ainsi je soutins qu'elle \u00e9tait dame de qualit\u00e9, et que je\nvoulais \u00eatre dame de qualit\u00e9, comme elle.\nTout ceci fut r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e9 aux dames, et elles s'en amus\u00e8rent et de temps en\ntemps les filles de M. le maire venaient me voir et demandaient o\u00f9 \u00e9tait\nla petite dame de qualit\u00e9, ce qui ne me rendait pas peu fi\u00e8re de moi,\nd'ailleurs j'avais souvent la visite de ces jeunes dames, et elles en\namenaient d'autres avec elles; de sorte que par cela je devins connue\npresque dans toute la ville.\nJ'avais maintenant pr\u00e8s de dix ans et je commen\u00e7ais d'avoir l'air d'une\npetite femme, car j'\u00e9tais extr\u00eamement s\u00e9rieuse, avec de belles mani\u00e8res,\net comme j'avais souvent entendu dire aux dames que j'\u00e9tais jolie, et\nque je deviendrais extr\u00eamement belle, vous pouvez penser que cela ne me\nrendait pas peu fi\u00e8re; toutefois cette vanit\u00e9 n'eut pas encore de\nmauvais effet sur moi; seulement, comme elles me donnaient souvent de\nl'argent que je donnais \u00e0 ma vieille nourrice, elle, honn\u00eate femme,\navait l'int\u00e9grit\u00e9 de le d\u00e9penser pour moi afin de m'acheter coiffe,\nlinge et gants, et j'allais nettement v\u00eatue; car si je portais des\nhaillons, j'\u00e9tais toujours tr\u00e8s propre, ou je les faisais barboter\nmoi-m\u00eame dans l'eau, mais, dis-je, ma bonne vieille nourrice, quand on\nme donnait de l'argent, bien honn\u00eatement le d\u00e9pensait pour moi, et\ndisait toujours aux dames que ceci ou cela avait \u00e9t\u00e9 achet\u00e9 avec leur\nargent; et ceci faisait qu'elles m'en donnaient davantage; jusqu'enfin\nje fus tout de bon appel\u00e9e par les magistrats, pour entrer en service;\nmais j'\u00e9tais alors devenue si excellente ouvri\u00e8re, et les dames \u00e9taient\nsi bonnes pour moi, que j'en avais pass\u00e9 le besoin; car je pouvais\ngagner pour ma nourrice autant qu'il lui fallait pour m'entretenir; de\nsorte qu'elle leur dit que, s'ils lui permettaient, elle garderait la\n\u00abdame de qualit\u00e9\u00bb comme elle m'appelait, pour lui servir d'aide et\ndonner le\u00e7on aux enfants, ce que j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s bien capable de faire; car\nj'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s agile au travail, bien que je fusse encore tr\u00e8s jeune.\nMais la bont\u00e9 de ces dames ne s'arr\u00eata pas l\u00e0, car lorsqu'elles\ncomprirent que je n'\u00e9tais plus entretenue par la cit\u00e9, comme auparavant,\nelles me donn\u00e8rent plus souvent de l'argent; et, \u00e0 mesure que je\ngrandissais, elles m'apportaient de l'ouvrage \u00e0 faire pour elles: tel\nque linge \u00e0 rentoiler, dentelles \u00e0 r\u00e9parer, coiffes \u00e0 fa\u00e7onner, et non\nseulement me payaient pour mon ouvrage, mais m'apprenaient m\u00eame \u00e0 le\nfaire, de sorte que j'\u00e9tais v\u00e9ritablement une dame de qualit\u00e9, ainsi que\nje l'entendais; car avant d'avoir douze ans, non seulement je me\nsuffisais en v\u00eatements et je payais ma nourrice pour m'entretenir, mais\nencore je mettais de l'argent dans ma poche.\nLes dames me donnaient aussi fr\u00e9quemment de leurs hardes ou de celles de\nleurs enfants; des bas, des jupons, des habits, les unes telle chose,\nles autres telle autre, et ma vieille femme soignait tout cela pour moi\ncomme une m\u00e8re, m'obligeait \u00e0 raccommoder, et \u00e0 tourner tout au meilleur\nusage: car c'\u00e9tait une rare et excellente m\u00e9nag\u00e8re.\n\u00c0 la fin, une des dames se prit d'un tel caprice pour moi qu'elle\nd\u00e9sirait m'avoir chez elle, dans sa maison, pour un mois, dit-elle, afin\nd'\u00eatre en compagnie de ses filles.\nVous pensez que cette invitation \u00e9tait excessivement aimable de sa part;\ntoutefois, comme lui dit ma bonne femme, \u00e0 moins qu'elle se d\u00e9cid\u00e2t \u00e0 me\ngarder pour tout de bon, elle ferait \u00e0 la petite dame de qualit\u00e9 plus de\nmal que de bien.--\u00abEh bien, dit la dame, c'est vrai; je la prendrai chez\nmoi seulement pendant une semaine, pour voir comment mes filles et elles\ns'accordent, et comment son caract\u00e8re me pla\u00eet, et ensuite je vous en\ndirai plus long; et cependant, s'il vient personne la voir comme\nd'ordinaire, dites-leur seulement que vous l'avez envoy\u00e9e en visite \u00e0 ma\nmaison.\u00bb\nCeci \u00e9tait prudemment m\u00e9nag\u00e9, et j'allai faire visite \u00e0 la dame, o\u00f9 je\nme plus tellement avec les jeunes demoiselles, et elles si fort avec\nmoi, que j'eus assez \u00e0 faire pour me s\u00e9parer d'elles, et elles en furent\naussi f\u00e2ch\u00e9es que moi-m\u00eame.\nJe les quittai cependant et je v\u00e9cus presque une ann\u00e9e encore avec mon\nhonn\u00eate vielle femme; et je commen\u00e7ais maintenant de lui \u00eatre bien\nutile; car j'avais presque quatorze ans, j'\u00e9tais grande pour mon \u00e2ge, et\nj'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 l'air d'une petite femme; mais j'avais pris un tel go\u00fbt de\nl'air de qualit\u00e9 dont on vivait dans la maison de la dame, que je ne me\nsentais plus tant \u00e0 mon aise dans mon ancien logement; et je pensais\nqu'il \u00e9tait beau d'\u00eatre vraiment dame de qualit\u00e9, car j'avais maintenant\ndes notions tout \u00e0 fait diff\u00e9rentes sur les dames de qualit\u00e9; et comme\nje pensais qu'il \u00e9tait beau d'\u00eatre une dame de qualit\u00e9, ainsi j'aimais\n\u00eatre parmi les dames de qualit\u00e9, et voil\u00e0 pourquoi je d\u00e9sirais ardemment\ny retourner.\nQuand j'eus environ quatorze ans et trois mois, ma bonne vieille\nnourrice (ma m\u00e8re, je devrais l'appeler) tomba malade et mourut. Je me\ntrouvai alors dans une triste condition, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; car ainsi qu'il n'y\na pas grand'peine \u00e0 mettre fin \u00e0 la famille d'une pauvre personne une\nfois qu'on les a tous emmen\u00e9s au cimeti\u00e8re, ainsi la pauvre bonne femme\n\u00e9tant enterr\u00e9e, les enfants de la paroisse furent imm\u00e9diatement enlev\u00e9s\npar les marguilliers; l'\u00e9cole \u00e9tait finie et les externes qui y venaient\nn'avaient plus qu'\u00e0 attendre chez eux qu'on les envoy\u00e2t ailleurs; pour\nce qu'elle avait laiss\u00e9, une fille \u00e0 elle, femme mari\u00e9e, arriva et\nbalaya tout; et, comme on emportait les meubles, on ne trouva pas autre\nchose \u00e0 me dire que de conseiller par plaisanterie \u00e0 la petite dame de\nqualit\u00e9 de s'\u00e9tablir maintenant \u00e0 son compte, si elle le voulait.\nJ'\u00e9tais perdue presque de frayeur, et je ne savais que faire; car\nj'\u00e9tais pour ainsi dire mise \u00e0 la porte dans l'immense monde, et, ce qui\n\u00e9tait encore pire, la vieille honn\u00eate femme avait gard\u00e9 par devers elle\nvingt et deux shillings \u00e0 moi, qui \u00e9taient tout l'\u00e9tat que la petite\ndame de qualit\u00e9 avait au monde; et quand je les demandai \u00e0 la fille,\nelle me bouscula et me dit que ce n'\u00e9taient point ses affaires.\nIl \u00e9tait vrai que la bonne pauvre femme en avait parl\u00e9 \u00e0 sa fille,\ndisant que l'argent se trouvait \u00e0 tel endroit, et que c'\u00e9tait l'argent\nde l'enfant, et qu'elle m'avait appel\u00e9e une ou deux fois pour me le\ndonner, mais je ne me trouvais malheureusement pas l\u00e0, et lorsque je\nrevins, elle \u00e9tait hors la condition de pouvoir en parler; toutefois la\nfille fut assez honn\u00eate ensuite pour me le donner, quoiqu'elle m'e\u00fbt\nd'abord \u00e0 ce sujet trait\u00e9e si cruellement.\nMaintenant j'\u00e9tais une pauvre dame de qualit\u00e9, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, et juste cette\nm\u00eame nuit j'allais \u00eatre jet\u00e9e dans l'immense monde; car la fille avait\ntout emport\u00e9, et je n'avais pas tant qu'un logement pour y aller, ou un\nbout de pain \u00e0 manger; mais il semble que quelques-uns des voisins\nprirent une si grande piti\u00e9 de moi, qu'ils en inform\u00e8rent la dame dans\nla famille de qui j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9; et imm\u00e9diatement elle envoya sa servante\npour me chercher; et me voil\u00e0 partie avec elles, sac et bagages, et avec\nle coeur joyeux, vous pouvez bien penser; la terreur de ma condition\navait fait une telle impression sur moi, que je ne voulais plus \u00eatre\ndame de qualit\u00e9, mais bien volontiers servante, et servante de telle\nesp\u00e8ce pour laquelle on m'aurait crue bonne.\nMais ma nouvelle g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse ma\u00eetresse avait de meilleures pens\u00e9es pour\nmoi. Je la nomme g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse, car autant elle exc\u00e9dait la bonne femme avec\nqui j'avais v\u00e9cu avant en tout, qu'en \u00e9tat; je dis en tout, sauf en\nhonn\u00eatet\u00e9; et pour cela, quoique ceci f\u00fbt une dame bien exactement\njuste, cependant je ne dois pas oublier de dire en toutes occasions, que\nla premi\u00e8re, bien que pauvre, \u00e9tait aussi fonci\u00e8rement honn\u00eate qu'il est\npossible.\nJe n'eus pas plus t\u00f4t \u00e9t\u00e9 emmen\u00e9e par cette bonne dame de qualit\u00e9, que\nla premi\u00e8re dame, c'est-\u00e0-dire madame la femme du maire, envoya ses\nfilles pour prendre soin de moi; et une autre famille qui m'avait\nremarqu\u00e9e, quand j'\u00e9tais la petite dame de qualit\u00e9, me fit chercher,\napr\u00e8s celle-l\u00e0, de sorte qu'on faisait grand cas de moi; et elles ne\nfurent pas peu f\u00e2ch\u00e9es, surtout madame la femme du maire, que son amie\nm'e\u00fbt enlev\u00e9e \u00e0 elle; car disait-elle, je lui appartenais par droit,\nelle ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 la premi\u00e8re qui e\u00fbt pris garde \u00e0 moi; mais celles qui me\ntenaient ne voulaient pas me laisser partir; et, pour moi, je ne pouvais\n\u00eatre mieux que l\u00e0 o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais.\nL\u00e0, je continuai jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'eusse entre dix-sept et dix-huit ans,\net j'y trouvai tous les avantages d'\u00e9ducation qu'on peut s'imaginer;\ncette dame avait des ma\u00eetres qui venaient pour enseigner \u00e0 ses filles \u00e0\ndanser, \u00e0 parler fran\u00e7ais et \u00e0 \u00e9crire, et d'autres pour leur enseigner\nla musique; et, comme j'\u00e9tais toujours avec elles, j'apprenais aussi\nvite qu'elles; et quoique les ma\u00eetres ne fussent pas appoint\u00e9s pour\nm'enseigner, cependant j'apprenais par imitation et questions tout ce\nqu'elles apprenaient par instruction et direction. Si bien qu'en somme\nj'appris \u00e0 danser et \u00e0 parler fran\u00e7ais aussi bien qu'aucune d'elles et \u00e0\nchanter beaucoup mieux, car j'avais une meilleure voix qu'aucune\nd'elles; je ne pouvais pas aussi promptement arriver \u00e0 jouer du clavecin\nou de l'\u00e9pinette, parce que je n'avais pas d'instruments \u00e0 moi pour m'y\nexercer, et que je ne pouvais toucher les leurs que par intervalles,\nquand elles les laissaient; mais, pourtant, j'appris suffisamment bien,\net finalement les jeunes demoiselles eurent deux instruments,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire un clavecin et une \u00e9pinette aussi, et puis me donn\u00e8rent\nle\u00e7on elles-m\u00eames; mais, pour ce qui est de danser, elles ne pouvaient\nmais que je n'apprisse les danses de campagne, parce qu'elles avaient\ntoujours besoin de moi pour faire un nombre \u00e9gal, et, d'autre part,\nelles mettaient aussi bon coeur \u00e0 m'apprendre tout ce qu'on leur avait\nenseign\u00e9 \u00e0 elles-m\u00eames que moi \u00e0 profiter de leurs le\u00e7ons.\nPar ces moyens j'eus, comme j'ai dit, tous les avantages d'\u00e9ducation que\nj'aurais pu avoir, si j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 autant demoiselle de qualit\u00e9 que\nl'\u00e9taient celles avec qui je vivais, et, en quelques points, j'avais\nl'avantage sur mesdemoiselles, bien qu'elles fussent mes sup\u00e9rieures: en\nce que tous mes dons \u00e9taient de nature et que toutes leurs fortunes\nn'eussent pu fournir. D'abord j'\u00e9tais jolie, avec plus d'apparence\nqu'aucune d'elles; deuxi\u00e8mement j'\u00e9tais mieux faite; troisi\u00e8mement, je\nchantais mieux, par quoi je veux dire que j'avais une meilleure voix; en\nquoi vous me permettrez de dire, j'esp\u00e8re, que je ne donne pas mon\npropre jugement, mais l'opinion de tous ceux qui connaissaient la\nfamille.\nJ'avais avec tout cela, la commune vanit\u00e9 de mon sexe, en ce qu'\u00e9tant\nr\u00e9ellement consid\u00e9r\u00e9e comme tr\u00e8s jolie, ou, si vous voulez, comme une\ngrande beaut\u00e9, je le savais fort bien, et j'avais une aussi bonne\nopinion de moi-m\u00eame qu'homme du monde, et surtout j'aimais \u00e0 en entendre\nparler les gens, ce qui arrivait souvent et me donnait une grande\nsatisfaction.\nJusqu'ici mon histoire a \u00e9t\u00e9 ais\u00e9e \u00e0 dire, et dans toute cette partie de\nma vie, j'avais non seulement la r\u00e9putation de vivre dans une tr\u00e8s bonne\nfamille, mais aussi la renomm\u00e9e d'une jeune fille bien sobre, modeste et\nvertueuse, et telle j'avais toujours \u00e9t\u00e9; d'ailleurs, je n'avais jamais\neu occasion de penser \u00e0 autre chose, ou de savoir ce qu'\u00e9tait une\ntentation au vice. Mais ce dont j'\u00e9tais trop fi\u00e8re fut ma perte. La\nma\u00eetresse de la maison o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais avait deux fils, jeunes gentilshommes\nde qualit\u00e9 et tenue peu ordinaires, et ce fut mon malheur d'\u00eatre tr\u00e8s\nbien avec tous deux, mais ils se conduisirent avec moi d'une mani\u00e8re\nbien diff\u00e9rente.\nL'a\u00een\u00e9, un gentilhomme gai, qui connaissait la ville autant que la\ncampagne, et, bien qu'il e\u00fbt de l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9 assez pour commettre une\nmauvaise action, cependant avait trop de jugement pratique pour payer\ntrop cher ses plaisirs; il commen\u00e7a par ce triste pi\u00e8ge pour toutes les\nfemmes, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'il prenait garde \u00e0 toutes occasions combien\nj'\u00e9tais jolie, comme il disait, combien agr\u00e9able, combien mon port \u00e9tait\ngracieux, et mille autres choses; et il y mettait autant de subtilit\u00e9\nque s'il e\u00fbt eu la m\u00eame science \u00e0 prendre une femme au filet qu'une\nperdrix \u00e0 l'aff\u00fbt, car il s'arrangeait toujours pour r\u00e9p\u00e9ter ces\ncompliments \u00e0 ses soeurs au moment que, bien que je ne fusse pas l\u00e0,\ncependant il savait que je n'\u00e9tais pas assez \u00e9loign\u00e9e pour ne pas \u00eatre\nassur\u00e9e de l'entendre. Ses soeurs lui r\u00e9pondaient doucement: \u00abChut!\nfr\u00e8re, elle va t'entendre, elle est dans la chambre d'\u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9.\u00bb Alors il\ns'interrompait et parlait \u00e0 voix basse, pr\u00e9tendant ne l'avoir pas su, et\navouait qu'il avait eu tort; puis, feignant de s'oublier, se mettait \u00e0\nparler de nouveau \u00e0 voix haute, et moi, qui \u00e9tais si charm\u00e9e de\nl'entendre, je n'avais garde de ne point l'\u00e9couter \u00e0 toutes occasions.\nApr\u00e8s qu'il eut ainsi amorc\u00e9 son hame\u00e7on et assez ais\u00e9ment trouv\u00e9 le\nmoyen de placer l'app\u00e2t sur ma route, il joua \u00e0 jeu d\u00e9couvert, et un\njour, passant par la chambre de sa soeur pendant que j'y \u00e9tais, il entre\navec un air de gaiet\u00e9:\n--Oh! madame Betty, me dit-il, comment allez-vous, madame Betty? Est-ce\nque les joues ne vous br\u00fblent pas, madame Betty.\nJe fis une r\u00e9v\u00e9rence et me mis \u00e0 rougir, mais ne r\u00e9pondis rien.\n--Pourquoi lui dis-tu cela, mon fr\u00e8re? dit la demoiselle.\n--Mais, reprit-il, parce que nous venons de parler d'elle, en bas, cette\ndemi-heure.\n--Eh bien, dit sa soeur, vous n'avez pas pu dire de mal d'elle, j'en\nsuis s\u00fbre; ainsi, peu importe ce dont vous avez pu parler.\n--Non, non, dit-il, nous avons \u00e9t\u00e9 si loin de dire du mal d'elle, que\nnous en avons dit infiniment de bien, et beaucoup, beaucoup de belles\nchoses ont \u00e9t\u00e9 r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e9es sur Mme Betty, je t'assure, et en particulier\nque c'est la plus jolie jeune fille de Colchester; et, bref, ils\ncommencent en ville \u00e0 boire \u00e0 sa sant\u00e9.\n--Je suis vraiment surprise de ce que tu dis, mon fr\u00e8re, r\u00e9pond la\nsoeur; il ne manque qu'une chose \u00e0 Betty, mais autant vaudrait qu'il lui\nmanqu\u00e2t tout, car son sexe est en baisse sur le march\u00e9 au temps pr\u00e9sent;\net si une jeune femme a beaut\u00e9, naissance, \u00e9ducation, esprit, sens,\nbonne fa\u00e7on et chastet\u00e9, et tout a l'extr\u00eame, toutefois si elle n'a\npoint d'argent, elle n'est rien; autant vaudrait que tout lui fit\nd\u00e9faut: l'argent seul, de nos jours, recommande une femme; les hommes se\npassent le beau jeu tour \u00e0 tour.\nSon fr\u00e8re cadet, qui \u00e9tait l\u00e0, s'\u00e9cria:\n--Arr\u00eate, ma soeur, tu vas trop vite; je suis une exception \u00e0 ta r\u00e8gle;\nje t'assure que si je trouve une femme aussi accomplie, je ne\nm'inqui\u00e9terai gu\u00e8re de l'argent.\n--Oh! dit la soeur, mais tu prendras garde alors de ne point te mettre\ndans l'esprit une qui n'ait pas d'argent.\n--Pour cela, tu n'en sais rien non plus, dit le fr\u00e8re.\n--Mais pourquoi, ma soeur, dit le fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9, pourquoi cette exclamation\nsur la fortune? Tu n'es pas de celles \u00e0 qui elle fait d\u00e9faut, quelles\nque soient les qualit\u00e9s qui te manquent.\n--Je te comprends tr\u00e8s bien, mon fr\u00e8re, r\u00e9plique la dame fort aigrement,\ntu supposes que j'ai la fortune et que la beaut\u00e9 me manque; mais tel est\nle temps que la premi\u00e8re suffira: je serai donc encore mieux partag\u00e9e\nque mes voisines.\n--Eh bien, dit le fr\u00e8re cadet, mais tes voisines pourront bien avoir\npart \u00e9gale, car beaut\u00e9 ravit un mari parfois en d\u00e9pit d'argent, et quand\nla fille se trouve mieux faite que la ma\u00eetresse, par chance elle fait un\naussi bon march\u00e9 et monte en carrosse avant l'autre.\nJe crus qu'il \u00e9tait temps pour moi de me retirer, et je le fis, mais pas\nassez loin pour ne pas saisir tout leur discours, o\u00f9 j'entendis\nabondance de belles choses qu'on disait de moi, ce qui excita ma vanit\u00e9,\nmais ne me mit pas en chemin, comme je le d\u00e9couvris bient\u00f4t, d'augmenter\nmon int\u00e9r\u00eat dans la famille, car la soeur et le fr\u00e8re cadet se\nquerell\u00e8rent am\u00e8rement l\u00e0-dessus; et, comme il lui dit, \u00e0 mon sujet, des\nchoses fort d\u00e9sobligeantes, je pus voir facilement qu'elle en gardait\nrancune par la conduite qu'elle tint envers moi, et qui fut en v\u00e9rit\u00e9\nbien injuste, car je n'avais jamais eu la moindre pens\u00e9e de ce qu'elle\nsoup\u00e7onnait en ce qui touchait son fr\u00e8re cadet; certainement l'a\u00een\u00e9, \u00e0\nsa fa\u00e7on obscure et lointaine, avait dit quantit\u00e9 de choses plaisamment\nque j'avais la folie de tenir pour s\u00e9rieuses ou de me flatter de\nl'espoir de ce que j'aurais d\u00fb supposer qu'il n'entendrait jamais.\nIl arriva, un jour, qu'il monta tout courant l'escalier vers la chambre\no\u00f9 ses soeurs se tenaient d'ordinaire pour coudre, comme il le faisait\nsouvent, et, les appelant de loin avant d'entrer, comme il en avait\naussi coutume, moi, \u00e9tant l\u00e0, seule, j'allai \u00e0 la porte et dis:\n--Monsieur, ces dames ne sont pas l\u00e0, elles sont all\u00e9es se promener au\njardin.\nComme je m'avan\u00e7ais pour parler ainsi, il venait d'arriver jusqu'\u00e0 la\nporte, et me saisissant dans ses bras, comme c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 par chance:\n--Oh! madame Betty, dit-il, \u00eates-vous donc l\u00e0? C'est encore mieux, je\nveux vous parler \u00e0 vous bien plus qu'\u00e0 elles.\nEt puis, me tenant dans ses bras, il me baisa trois ou quatre fois.\nJe me d\u00e9battis pour me d\u00e9gager, et toutefois je ne le fis que\nfaiblement, et il me tint serr\u00e9e, et continua de me baiser jusqu'\u00e0 ce\nqu'il f\u00fbt hors d'haleine; et, s'asseyant, il dit:\n--Ch\u00e8re Betty, je suis amoureux de vous.\nSes paroles, je dois l'avouer, m'enflamm\u00e8rent le sang; tous mes esprits\nvol\u00e8rent \u00e0 mon coeur et me mirent assez en d\u00e9sordre. Il r\u00e9p\u00e9ta ensuite\nplusieurs fois qu'il \u00e9tait amoureux de moi, et mon coeur disait aussi\nclairement qu'une voix que j'en \u00e9tais charm\u00e9e; oui, et chaque fois qu'il\ndisait: \u00abJe suis amoureux de vous\u00bb, mes rougeurs r\u00e9pondaient clairement:\n\u00abJe le voudrais bien, monsieur.\u00bb Toutefois, rien d'autre ne se passa\nalors; ce ne fut qu'une surprise, et je me remis bient\u00f4t. Il serait\nrest\u00e9 plus longtemps avec moi, mais par hasard, il regardai la fen\u00eatre,\net vit ses soeurs qui remontaient le jardin. Il prit donc cong\u00e9, me\nbaisa encore, me dit qu'il \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s s\u00e9rieux, et que j'en entendrais\nbien promptement davantage. Et le voil\u00e0 parti infiniment joyeux, et s'il\nn'y avait eu un malheur en cela, j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans le vrai, mais\nl'erreur \u00e9tait que Mme Betty \u00e9tait s\u00e9rieuse et que le gentilhomme ne\nl'\u00e9tait pas.\n\u00c0 partir de ce temps, ma t\u00eate courut sur d'\u00e9tranges choses, et je puis\nv\u00e9ritablement dire que je n'\u00e9tais pas moi-m\u00eame, d'avoir un tel\ngentilhomme qui me r\u00e9p\u00e9tait qu'il \u00e9tait amoureux de moi, et que j'\u00e9tais\nune si charmante cr\u00e9ature, comme il me disait que je l'\u00e9tais: c'\u00e9taient\nl\u00e0 des choses que je ne savais comment supporter; ma vanit\u00e9 \u00e9tait \u00e9lev\u00e9e\nau dernier degr\u00e9. Il est vrai que j'avais la t\u00eate pleine d'orgueil,\nmais, ne sachant rien des vices de ce temps, je n'avais pas une pens\u00e9e\nsur ma vertu; et si mon jeune ma\u00eetre l'avait propos\u00e9 \u00e0 premi\u00e8re vue, il\ne\u00fbt pu prendre toute libert\u00e9 qu'il e\u00fbt cru bonne; mais il ne per\u00e7ut pas\nson avantage, ce qui fut mon bonheur \u00e0 ce moment.\nIl ne se passa pas longtemps avant qu'il trouv\u00e2t l'occasion de me\nsurprendre encore, et presque dans la m\u00eame posture; en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, il y eut\nplus de dessein de sa part, quoique non de la mienne. Ce fut ainsi: les\njeunes dames \u00e9taient sorties pour faire des visites avec leur m\u00e8re; son\nfr\u00e8re n'\u00e9tait pas en ville, et pour son p\u00e8re, il \u00e9tait \u00e0 Londres depuis\nune semaine; il m'avait si bien guett\u00e9e qu'il savait o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, tandis\nque moi je ne savais pas tant s'il \u00e9tait \u00e0 la maison, et il monte\nvivement l'escalier, et, me voyant au travail, entre droit dans la\nchambre, o\u00f9 il commen\u00e7a juste comme l'autre fois, me prenant dans ses\nbras, et me baisant pendant presque un quart d'heure de suite.\nC'est dans la chambre de sa plus jeune soeur que j'\u00e9tais, et comme il\nn'y avait personne \u00e0 la maison que la servante au bas de l'escalier, il\nen fut peut-\u00eatre plus hardi; bref, il commen\u00e7a d'\u00eatre pressant avec moi;\nil est possible qu'il me trouva un peu trop facile, car je ne lui\nr\u00e9sistai pas tandis qu'il ne faisait que me tenir dans ses bras et me\nbaiser; en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, cela me donnait trop de plaisir pour lui r\u00e9sister\nbeaucoup.\nEh bien, fatigu\u00e9s de ce genre de travail, nous nous ass\u00eemes, et l\u00e0 il me\nparla pendant longtemps; me dit qu'il \u00e9tait charm\u00e9 de moi, qu'il ne\npouvait avoir de repos qu'il ne m'e\u00fbt persuad\u00e9 qu'il \u00e9tait amoureux de\nmoi, et que si je pouvais l'aimer en retour, et si je voulais le rendre\nheureux, je lui sauverais la vie, et mille belles choses semblables. Je\nne lui r\u00e9pondis que peu, mais d\u00e9couvris ais\u00e9ment que j'\u00e9tais une sotte\net que je ne comprenais pas le moins du monde ce qu'il entendait.\nPuis il marcha par la chambre, et, me prenant par la main, je marchai\navec lui, et soudain, prenant son avantage, il me jeta sur le lit et m'y\nbaisa tr\u00e8s violemment, mais, pour lui faire justice, ne se livra \u00e0\naucune grossi\u00e8ret\u00e9, seulement me baisa pendant tr\u00e8s longtemps; apr\u00e8s\nquoi il crut entendre quelqu'un monter dans l'escalier, de sorte qu'il\nsauta du lit et me souleva, professant infiniment d'amour pour moi, mais\nme dit que c'\u00e9tait une affection enti\u00e8rement honorable, et qu'il ne\nvoulait me causer aucun mal, et l\u00e0-dessus il me mit cinq guin\u00e9es dans la\nmain et redescendit l'escalier.\nJe fus plus confondue de l'argent que je ne l'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 auparavant de\nl'amour, et commen\u00e7ai de me sentir si \u00e9lev\u00e9e que je savais \u00e0 peine si je\ntouchais la terre. Ce gentilhomme avait maintenant enflamm\u00e9 son\ninclination autant que ma vanit\u00e9, et, comme s'il e\u00fbt trouv\u00e9 qu'il avait\nune occasion et qu'il f\u00fbt l\u00e2ch\u00e9 de ne pas la saisir, le voil\u00e0 qui\nremonte au bout d'environ une demi-heure, et reprend son travail avec\nmoi, juste comme il avait fait avant, mais avec un peu moins de\npr\u00e9paration.\nEt d'abord quand il f\u00fbt entr\u00e9 dans la chambre, il se retourna et ferma\nla porte.\n--Madame Betty, dit-il, je m'\u00e9tais figur\u00e9 tout \u00e0 l'heure que quelqu'un\nmontait dans l'escalier, mais il n'en \u00e9tait rien; toutefois, dit-il, si\non me trouve dans la chambre avec vous, on ne me surprendra pas \u00e0 vous\nbaiser.\nJe lui dis que je ne savais pas qui aurait pu monter l'escalier, car je\ncroyais qu'il n'y avait personne \u00e0 la maison que la cuisini\u00e8re et\nl'autre servante et elles ne prenaient jamais cet escalier-l\u00e0.\n--Eh bien, ma mignonne, il vaut mieux s'assurer, en tout cas.--Et puis,\ns'assied, et nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 causer.\nEt maintenant, quoique je fusse encore toute en feu de sa premi\u00e8re\nvisite, ne pouvant parler que peu, il semblait qu'il me m\u00eet les paroles\ndans la bouche, me disant combien passionn\u00e9ment il m'aimait, et comment\nil ne pouvait rien avant d'avoir disposition de sa fortune, mais que\ndans ce temps-l\u00e0 il \u00e9tait bien r\u00e9solu \u00e0 me rendre heureuse, et lui-m\u00eame,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire de m'\u00e9pouser, et abondance de telles choses, dont moi\npauvre sotte je ne comprenais pas le dessein, mais agissais comme s'il\nn'y e\u00fbt eu d'autre amour que celui qui tendait au mariage; et s'il e\u00fbt\nparl\u00e9 de l'autre je m'eusse trouv\u00e9 ni lieu ni pouvoir pour dire non;\nmais nous n'en \u00e9tions pas encore venus \u00e0 ce point-l\u00e0.\nNous n'\u00e9tions pas rest\u00e9s assis longtemps qu'il se leva et m'\u00e9touffant\nvraiment la respiration sous ses baisers, me jeta de nouveau sur le lit;\nmais alors il alla plus loin que la d\u00e9cence ne me permet de rapporter,\net il n'aurait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 en mon pouvoir de lui refuser \u00e0 ce moment, s'il\navait pris plus de privaut\u00e9s qu'il ne fit.\nToutefois, bien qu'il pr\u00eet ces libert\u00e9s, il n'alla pas jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'on\nappelle la derni\u00e8re faveur, laquelle, pour lui rendre justice, il ne\ntenta point; et ce renoncement volontaire lui servit d'excuse pour\ntoutes ses libert\u00e9s avec moi en d'autres occasions. Quand ce fut\ntermin\u00e9, il ne resta qu'un petit moment, mais me glissa presque une\npoign\u00e9e d'or dans la main et me laissa mille prestations de sa passion\npour moi, m'assurant qu'il m'aimait au-dessus de toutes les femmes du\nmonde.\nIl ne semblera pas \u00e9trange que maintenant je commen\u00e7ai de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir;\nmais, h\u00e9las! ce fut avec une r\u00e9flexion bien peu solide. J'avais un fonds\nillimit\u00e9 de vanit\u00e9 et d'orgueil, un tr\u00e8s petit fonds de vertu. Parfois,\ncertes, je ruminais en moi pour deviner ce que visait mon jeune ma\u00eetre,\nmais ne pensais \u00e0 rien qu'aux belles paroles et \u00e0 l'or; qu'il e\u00fbt\nintention de m'\u00e9pouser ou non me paraissait affaire d'assez petite\nimportance; et je ne pensais pas tant \u00e0 faire mes conditions pour\ncapituler, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il me fit une sorte de proposition en forme\ncomme vous allez l'entendre.\nAinsi je m'abandonnai \u00e0 la ruine sans la moindre inqui\u00e9tude. Jamais rien\nne fut si stupide des deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s; si j'avais agi selon la convenance, et\nr\u00e9sist\u00e9 comme l'exigeaient l'honneur et la vertu, ou bien il e\u00fbt renonc\u00e9\n\u00e0 ses attaques, ne trouvant point lieu d'attendre l'accomplissement de\nson dessein, ou bien il e\u00fbt fait de belles et honorables propositions de\nmariage; dans quel cas on aurait pu le bl\u00e2mer par aventure mais non moi.\nBref, s'il m'e\u00fbt connue, et combien \u00e9tait ais\u00e9e \u00e0 obtenir la bagatelle\nqu'il voulait, il ne se serait pas troubl\u00e9 davantage la t\u00eate, mais\nm'aurait donn\u00e9 quatre ou cinq guin\u00e9es et aurait couch\u00e9 avec moi la\nprochaine fois qu'il serait venu me trouver. D'autre part, si j'avais\nconnu ses pens\u00e9es et combien dure il supposait que je serais \u00e0 gagner,\nj'aurais pu faire mes conditions, et si je n'avais capitul\u00e9 pour un\nmariage imm\u00e9diat, j'aurais pu le faire pour \u00eatre entretenue jusqu'au\nmariage, et j'aurais eu ce que j'aurais voulu; car il \u00e9tait riche \u00e0\nl'exc\u00e8s, outre ses esp\u00e9rances; mais j'avais enti\u00e8rement abandonn\u00e9 de\nsemblables pens\u00e9es et j'\u00e9tais occup\u00e9e seulement de l'orgueil de ma\nbeaut\u00e9, et de me savoir aim\u00e9e par un tel gentilhomme; pour l'or, je\npassais des heures enti\u00e8res \u00e0 le regarder; je comptais les guin\u00e9es plus\nde mille fois par jour. Jamais pauvre vaine cr\u00e9ature ne fut si\nenvelopp\u00e9e par toutes les parties du mensonge que je ne le fus, ne\nconsid\u00e9rant pas ce qui \u00e9tait devant moi, et que la ruine \u00e9tait tout pr\u00e8s\nde ma porte, et, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je crois que je d\u00e9sirais plut\u00f4t cette ruine\nque je ne m'\u00e9tudiais \u00e0 l'\u00e9viter.\nN\u00e9anmoins, pendant ce temps, j'avais assez de ruse pour ne donner lieu\nle moins du monde \u00e0 personne de la famille d'imaginer que j'entretinsse\nla moindre correspondance avec lui. \u00c0 peine si je le regardais en public\nou si je lui r\u00e9pondais, lorsqu'il m'adressait la parole; et cependant\nmalgr\u00e9 tout, nous avions de temps en temps une petite entrevue o\u00f9 nous\npouvions placer un mot ou deux, et \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 un baiser, mais point de\nbelle occasion pour le mal m\u00e9dit\u00e9; consid\u00e9rant surtout qu'il faisait\nplus de d\u00e9tours qu'il n'en \u00e9tait besoin, et que la chose lui paraissant\ndifficile, il la rendait telle en r\u00e9alit\u00e9.\nMais comme le d\u00e9mon est un tentateur qui ne se lasse point, ainsi ne\nmanque-t-il jamais de trouver l'occasion du crime auquel il invite. Ce\nfut un soir que j'\u00e9tais au jardin, avec ses deux jeunes soeurs et lui,\nqu'il trouva le moyen de me glisser un billet dans la main o\u00f9 il me\ndisait que le lendemain il me demanderait en pr\u00e9sence de tout le monde\nd'aller faire un message pour lui et que je le verrais quelque part sur\nmon chemin.\nEn effet, apr\u00e8s d\u00eener, il me dit gravement, ses soeurs \u00e9tant toutes l\u00e0:\n--Madame Betty, j'ai une faveur \u00e0 vous demander.\n--Et laquelle donc? demande la seconde soeur.\n--Alors, ma soeur, dit-il tr\u00e8s gravement, si tu ne peux te passer de Mme\nBetty aujourd'hui, tout autre moment sera bon.\nMais si, dirent-elles, elles pouvaient se passer d'elle fort bien, et la\nsoeur lui demanda pardon de sa question.\n--Eh bien, mais, dit la soeur a\u00een\u00e9e, il faut que tu dises \u00e0 Mme Betty ce\nque c'est; si c'est quelque affaire priv\u00e9e que nous ne devions pas\nentendre, tu peux l'appeler dehors: la voil\u00e0.\n--Comment, ma soeur, dit le gentilhomme tr\u00e8s gravement, que veux-tu\ndire? Je voulais seulement la prier de passer dans High Street (et il\ntire de sa poche un rabat), dans telle boutique. Et puis il leur raconte\nune longue histoire sur deux belles cravates de mousseline dont il avait\ndemand\u00e9 le prix, et qu'il d\u00e9sirait que j'allasse en message acheter un\ntour de cou, pour ce rabat qu'il montrait, et que si on ne voulait pas\nprendre le prix que j'offrirais des cravates, que je misse un shilling\nde plus et marchandasse avec eux; et ensuite il imagina d'autres\nmessages et continua ainsi de me donner prou d'affaires, afin que je\nfusse bien assur\u00e9e de demeurer sortie un bon moment.\nQuand il m'e\u00fbt donn\u00e9 mes messages, il leur fit une longue histoire d'une\nvisite qu'il allait rendre dans une famille qu'ils connaissaient tous,\net o\u00f9 devaient se trouver tels et tels gentilshommes, et tr\u00e8s\nc\u00e9r\u00e9monieusement pria ses soeurs de l'accompagner, et elles, en\nsemblable c\u00e9r\u00e9monie, lui refus\u00e8rent \u00e0 cause d'une soci\u00e9t\u00e9 qui devait\nvenir leur rendre visite cette apr\u00e8s-midi; toutes choses, soit dit en\npassant, qu'il avait imagin\u00e9es \u00e0 dessein.\nIl avait \u00e0 peine fini de parler que son laquais entra pour lui dire que\nle carrosse de sir W... H... venait de s'arr\u00eater devant la porte; il y\ncourt et revient aussit\u00f4t.\n--H\u00e9las! dit-il \u00e0 haute voix, voil\u00e0 tout mon plaisir g\u00e2t\u00e9 d'un seul\ncoup; sir W... envoie son carrosse pour me ramener: il d\u00e9sire me parler.\nIl para\u00eet que ce sir W... \u00e9tait un gentilhomme qui vivait \u00e0 trois lieues\nde l\u00e0, \u00e0 qui il avait parl\u00e9 \u00e0 dessein afin qu'il lui pr\u00eat\u00e2t sa voiture\npour une affaire particuli\u00e8re et l'avait appoint\u00e9e pour venir le\nchercher au temps qu'elle arriva, vers trois heures.\nAussit\u00f4t il demanda sa meilleure perruque, son chapeau, son \u00e9p\u00e9e, et,\nordonnant \u00e0 son laquais d'aller l'excuser \u00e0 l'autre\nendroit,--c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'il inventa une excuse pour renvoyer son\nlaquais,--il se pr\u00e9pare \u00e0 monter dans le carrosse. Comme il sortait, il\ns'arr\u00eata un instant et me parle en grand s\u00e9rieux de son affaire, et\ntrouve occasion de me dire tr\u00e8s doucement:\n--Venez me rejoindre, ma ch\u00e9rie, aussit\u00f4t que possible.\nJe ne dis rien, mais lui fis ma r\u00e9v\u00e9rence, comme je l'avais faite\nauparavant, lorsqu'il avait parl\u00e9 devant tout le monde. Au bout d'un\nquart d'heure environ, je sortis aussi, sans avoir mis d'autre habit que\ncelui que je portais, sauf que j'avais une coiffe, un masque, un\n\u00e9ventail et une paire de gants dans ma poche; si bien qu'il n'y eut pas\nle moindre soup\u00e7on dans la maison. Il m'attendait dans une rue de\nderri\u00e8re, pr\u00e8s de laquelle il savait que je devais passer, et le cocher\nsavait o\u00f9 il devait toucher, en un certain endroit nomm\u00e9 Mile-End, o\u00f9\nvivait un confident \u00e0 lui, o\u00f9 nous entr\u00e2mes, et o\u00f9 se trouvaient toutes\nles commodit\u00e9s du monde pour faire tout le mal qu'il nous plairait.\nQuand nous fumes ensemble, il commen\u00e7a, de me parler tr\u00e8s gravement et\nde me dire qu'il ne m'avait pas amen\u00e9e l\u00e0 pour me trahir; que la passion\nqu'il entretenait pour moi ne souffrait pas qu'il me d\u00e9\u00e7\u00fbt; qu'il \u00e9tait\nr\u00e9solu \u00e0 m'\u00e9pouser sit\u00f4t qu'il disposerait de sa fortune; que cependant,\nsi je voulais accorder sa requ\u00eate, il m'entretiendrait fort\nhonorablement; et me fit mille protestations de sa sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 et de\nl'affection qu'il me portait; et qu'il ne m'abandonnerait jamais, et\ncomme je puis bien dire, fit mille fois plus de pr\u00e9ambules qu'il n'en\ne\u00fbt eu besoin.\nToutefois, comme il me pressait de parler, je lui dis que je n'avais\npoint de raison de douter de la sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 de son amour pour moi, apr\u00e8s\ntant de protestations, mais....\nEt ici je m'arr\u00eatai, comme si je lui laissais \u00e0 deviner le reste.\n--Mais quoi, ma ch\u00e9rie? dit-il. Je devine ce que vous voulez dire. Et si\nvous alliez devenir grosse, n'est-ce pas cela? Eh bien, alors, dit-il,\nj'aurai soin de vous et de vous pourvoir, aussi bien que l'enfant; et\nafin que vous puissiez voir que je ne plaisante pas, dit-il, voici\nquelque chose de s\u00e9rieux pour vous, et l\u00e0-dessus il tire une bourse de\nsoie avec cent guin\u00e9es et me la donna; et je vous en donnerai une autre\npareille, dit-il, tous les ans jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je vous \u00e9pouse.\nMa couleur monta et s'enfuit \u00e0 la vue de la bourse, et tout ensemble au\nfeu de sa proposition, si bien que je ne pus dire une parole, et il s'en\naper\u00e7ut ais\u00e9ment; de sorte que, glissant la bourse dans mon sein, je ne\nlui fis plus de r\u00e9sistance, mais lui laissai faire tout ce qui lui\nplaisait et aussi souvent qu'il lui plut et ainsi je scellai ma propre\ndestruction d'un coup; car de ce jour, \u00e9tant abandonn\u00e9e de ma vertu et\nde ma chastet\u00e9, il ne me resta plus rien de valeur pour me recommander\nou \u00e0 la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu ou \u00e0 l'assistance des hommes.\nMais les choses ne se termin\u00e8rent pas l\u00e0. Je retournai en ville, fis les\naffaires dont il m'avait pri\u00e9e, et fus rentr\u00e9e avant que personne\ns'\u00e9tonn\u00e2t de ma longue sortie; pour mon gentilhomme, il resta dehors\njusque tard dans la nuit, et il n'y eut pas le moindre soup\u00e7on dans la\nfamille, soit sur son compte, soit sur le mien.\nNous e\u00fbmes ensuite de fr\u00e9quentes occasions de renouveler notre crime, en\nparticulier \u00e0 la maison, quand sa m\u00e8re et les jeunes demoiselles\nsortaient en visite, ce qu'il guettait si \u00e9troitement qu'il n'y manquait\njamais; sachant toujours d'avance le moment o\u00f9 elles sortaient, et\nn'omettait pas alors de me surprendre toute seule et en absolue s\u00fbret\u00e9;\nde sorte que nous pr\u00eemes notre plein de nos mauvais plaisirs pendant\npresque la moiti\u00e9 d'une ann\u00e9e; et cependant, \u00e0 ma bien grande\nsatisfaction, je n'\u00e9tais pas grosse.\nMais avant que cette demi-ann\u00e9e f\u00fbt expir\u00e9e, son fr\u00e8re cadet, de qui\nj'ai fait quelque mention, entra au jeu avec moi; et, me trouvant seule\nau jardin un soir, me commence une histoire de m\u00eame sorte, fit de bonnes\net honn\u00eates protestations de son amour pour moi, et bref, me propose de\nm'\u00e9pouser bellement, en tout honneur.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant confondue, et pouss\u00e9e \u00e0 une telle extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 que je\nn'en avais jamais connu de semblable, je r\u00e9sistai obstin\u00e9ment \u00e0 sa\nproposition et commen\u00e7ai de m'armer d'arguments: je lui exposai\nl'in\u00e9galit\u00e9 de cette alliance, le traitement que je rencontrerais dans\nsa famille, l'ingratitude que ce serait envers son bon p\u00e8re et sa m\u00e8re\nqui m'avaient recueillie dans leur maison avec de si g\u00e9n\u00e9reuses\nintentions et lorsque je me trouvais dans une condition si basse; et\nbref je dis, pour le dissuader, tout ce que je pus imaginer, except\u00e9 la\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, ce qui aurait mis fin \u00e0 tout, mais dont je n'osais m\u00eame penser\nfaire mention.\nMais ici survint une circonstance que je n'attendais pas, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, et\nqui me mit \u00e0 bout de ressources: car ce jeune gentilhomme, de m\u00eame qu'il\n\u00e9tait simple et honn\u00eate, ainsi ne pr\u00e9tendait \u00e0 rien qui ne le fut\n\u00e9galement; et, connaissant sa propre innocence, il n'\u00e9tait pas si\nsoigneux que l'\u00e9tait son fr\u00e8re de tenir secret dans la maison qu'il e\u00fbt\nune douceur pour Mme Betty; et quoiqu'il ne leur fit pas savoir qu'il\nm'en avait parl\u00e9, cependant il en dit assez pour laisser voir \u00e0 ses\nsoeurs qu'il m'aimait, et sa m\u00e8re le vit aussi, et quoiqu'elles n'en\nfissent point semblant \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard, cependant elles ne le lui\ndissimul\u00e8rent pas, et aussit\u00f4t je trouvai que leur conduite envers moi\n\u00e9tait chang\u00e9e encore plus qu'auparavant.\nJe vis le nuage, quoique sans pr\u00e9vision de l'orage; il \u00e9tait facile de\nvoir, dis-je, que leur conduite \u00e9tait chang\u00e9e et que tous les jours elle\ndevenait pire et pire; jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'enfin je fus inform\u00e9e que dans tr\u00e8s\npeu de temps je serais pri\u00e9e de m'en aller.\nJe ne fus pas effray\u00e9e de la nouvelle, \u00e9tant pleinement assur\u00e9e que je\nserais pourvue, et surtout regardant que j'avais raison, chaque jour\nd'attendre d'\u00eatre grosse, et qu'alors je serais oblig\u00e9e de partir sans\ncouleurs aucunes.\nApr\u00e8s quelque temps, le gentilhomme cadet saisit une occasion pour me\ndire que la tendresse qu'il entretenait pour moi s'\u00e9tait \u00e9bruit\u00e9e dans\nla famille; il ne m'en accusait pas, disait-il, car il savait assez par\nquel moyen on l'avait su; il me dit que c'\u00e9taient ses propres paroles\nqui en avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 l'occasion, car il n'avait pas tenu son respect pour\nmoi aussi secret qu'il e\u00fbt pu, et la raison en \u00e9tait qu'il \u00e9tait au\npoint que, si je voulais consentir \u00e0 l'accepter, il leur dirait \u00e0 tous\nouvertement qu'il m'aimait et voulait m'\u00e9pouser; qu'il \u00e9tait vrai que\nson p\u00e8re et sa m\u00e8re en pourraient \u00eatre f\u00e2ch\u00e9s et se montrer s\u00e9v\u00e8res,\nmais qu'il \u00e9tait maintenant fort capable de gagner sa vie, ayant profit\u00e9\ndans le droit, et qu'il ne craindrait point de m'entretenir, et qu'en\nsomme, comme il croyait que je n'aurais point honte de lui, ainsi\n\u00e9tait-il r\u00e9solu \u00e0 n'avoir point honte de moi, qu'il d\u00e9daignait de\ncraindre m'avouer maintenant, moi qu'il avait d\u00e9cid\u00e9 d'avouer apr\u00e8s que\nje serais sa femme; qu'ainsi je n'avais rien \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 lui donner ma\nmain, et qu'il r\u00e9pondrait du reste.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant dans une terrible condition, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, et maintenant\nje me repentis de coeur de ma facilit\u00e9 avec le fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9; non par\nr\u00e9flexion de conscience, car j'\u00e9tais \u00e9trang\u00e8re \u00e0 ces choses, mais je ne\npouvais songer \u00e0 servir de ma\u00eetresse \u00e0 l'un des fr\u00e8res et de femme \u00e0\nl'autre; il me vint aussi \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e que l'a\u00een\u00e9 m'avait promis de me\nfaire sa femme quand il aurait disposition de sa fortune; mais en un\nmoment je me souvins d'avoir souvent pens\u00e9 qu'il n'avait jamais plus dit\nun mot de me prendre pour femme apr\u00e8s qu'il m'e\u00fbt conquise pour\nma\u00eetresse; et jusqu'ici, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, quoique je dise que j'y pensais\nsouvent, toutefois je n'en prenais pas d'inqui\u00e9tude car il ne semblait\npas le moins du monde perdre de son affection pour moi, non plus que de\nsa g\u00e9n\u00e9rosit\u00e9; quoique lui-m\u00eame e\u00fbt la discr\u00e9tion de me recommander de\nne point d\u00e9penser deux sols en habits, ou faire la moindre parade, parce\nque n\u00e9cessairement cela exciterait quelque envie dans la famille,\npuisque chacun savait que je n'aurais pu obtenir ces choses par moyens\nordinaires, sinon par quelque liaison priv\u00e9e dont on m'aurait soup\u00e7onn\u00e9e\nsur-le-champ.\nJ'\u00e9tais donc dans une grande angoisse et ne savais que faire; la\nprincipale difficult\u00e9 \u00e9tait que le fr\u00e8re cadet non seulement\nm'assi\u00e9geait \u00e9troitement, mais le laissait voir; il entrait dans la\nchambre de sa soeur ou dans la chambre de sa m\u00e8re, s'asseyait, et me\ndisait mille choses aimables, en face d'elles; si bien que toute la\nmaison en parlait, et que sa m\u00e8re l'en bl\u00e2ma, et que leur conduite\nenvers moi parut toute chang\u00e9e: bref, sa m\u00e8re avait laiss\u00e9 tomber\nquelques paroles par o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait facile de comprendre qu'elle voulait me\nfaire quitter la famille, c'est-\u00e0-dire, en fran\u00e7ais, me jeter \u00e0 la\nporte.\nOr, j'\u00e9tais s\u00fbre que ceci ne pouvait \u00eatre un secret pour son fr\u00e8re;\nseulement il pouvait penser (car personne n'y songeait encore) que son\nfr\u00e8re cadet ne m'avait fait aucune proposition; mais de m\u00eame que je\nvoyais facilement que les choses iraient plus loin, ainsi vis-je\npareillement qu'il y avait n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 absolue de lui en parler ou qu'il\nm'en parl\u00e2t, mais je ne savais pas si je devais m'ouvrir \u00e0 lui la\npremi\u00e8re ou bien attendre qu'il commen\u00e7\u00e2t.\nApr\u00e8s s\u00e9rieuse consid\u00e9ration, car, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je commen\u00e7ais maintenant\nd'abord \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer les choses tr\u00e8s s\u00e9rieusement, je r\u00e9solus de lui en\nparler la premi\u00e8re, et il ne se passa pas longtemps avant que j'en eusse\nl'occasion, car pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment le jour suivant son fr\u00e8re alla \u00e0 Londres en\naffaires, et la famille \u00e9tant sortie en visite, comme il arrivait avant,\nil vint, selon sa coutume, passer une heure ou deux avec Mme Betty.\nQuand il se fut assis un moment, il vit facilement qu'il y avait un\nchangement dans mon visage, que je n'\u00e9tais pas si libre avec lui et si\ngaie que de coutume, et surtout que je venais de pleurer; il ne fut pas\nlong \u00e0 le remarquer, et me demanda tr\u00e8s tendrement ce qu'il y avait et\nsi quelque chose me tourmentait. J'aurais bien remis la confidence, si\nj'avais pu, mais je ne pouvais plus dissimuler; et apr\u00e8s m'\u00eatre fait\nlonguement importuner pour me laisser tirer ce que je d\u00e9sirais si\nardemment r\u00e9v\u00e9ler, je lui dis qu'il \u00e9tait vrai qu'une chose me\ntourmentait, et une chose de nature telle que je pouvais \u00e0 peine la lui\ncacher, et que pourtant je ne pouvais savoir comment la lui dire; que\nc'\u00e9tait une chose qui non seulement me surprenait, mais m'embarrassait\nfortement, et que je ne savais quelle d\u00e9cision prendre, \u00e0 moins qu'il\nvoul\u00fbt me conseiller. Il me r\u00e9pondit avec une grande tendresse que,\nquelle que fut la confidence, je ne devais m'inqui\u00e9ter de rien, parce\nqu'il me prot\u00e9gerait de tout le monde.\nJe commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 tirer de loin, et lui dis que je craignais que mesdames\neussent obtenu quelque secr\u00e8te information de notre liaison; car il\n\u00e9tait facile de voir que leur conduite \u00e9tait bien chang\u00e9e \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard,\net maintenant les choses en \u00e9taient venues au point qu'elles me\ntrouvaient souvent en faute et parfois me querellaient tout de bon,\nquoique je n'y donnasse pas la moindre occasion; qu'au lieu que j'avais\ntoujours couch\u00e9 d'ordinaire avec la soeur a\u00een\u00e9e, on m'avait mise nagu\u00e8re\n\u00e0 coucher toute seule ou avec une des servantes, et que je les avais\nsurprises plusieurs fois \u00e0 parler tr\u00e8s cruellement de moi; mais que ce\nqui confirmait le tout \u00e9tait qu'une des servantes m'avait rapport\u00e9\nqu'elle avait entendu dire que je devais \u00eatre mise \u00e0 la porte, et qu'il\nne valait rien pour la famille que je demeurasse plus longtemps dans la\nmaison.\nIl sourit en m'entendant, et je lui demandai comment il pouvait prendre\ncela si l\u00e9g\u00e8rement, quand il devait bien savoir que si nous \u00e9tions\nd\u00e9couverts, j'\u00e9tais perdue et que cela lui ferait du tort, bien qu'il\nn'en d\u00fbt pas \u00eatre ruin\u00e9, comme moi. Je lui reprochai vivement de\nressembler au reste de son sexe, qui, ayant \u00e0 merci la r\u00e9putation d'une\nfemme, en font souvent leur jouet ou au moins la consid\u00e8rent comme une\nbabiole, et comptent la ruine de celles dont ils ont fait leur volont\u00e9\ncomme une chose de nulle valeur.\nIl vit que je m'\u00e9chauffais et que j'\u00e9tais s\u00e9rieuse, et il changea de\nstyle sur-le-champ; il me dit qu'il \u00e9tait f\u00e2ch\u00e9 que j'eusse une telle\npens\u00e9e sur lui; qu'il ne m'en avait jamais donn\u00e9 la moindre occasion,\nmais s'\u00e9tait montr\u00e9 aussi soucieux de ma r\u00e9putation que de la sienne\npropre; qu'il \u00e9tait certain que notre liaison avait \u00e9t\u00e9 gouvern\u00e9e avec\ntant d'adresse que pas une cr\u00e9ature de la famille ne faisait tant que de\nla soup\u00e7onner; que s'il avait souri quand je lui avais dit mes pens\u00e9es,\nc'\u00e9tait \u00e0 cause de l'assurance qu'il venait de recevoir qu'on n'avait\nm\u00eame pas une lueur sur notre entente, et que lorsqu'il me dirait les\nraisons qu'il avait de se sentir en s\u00e9curit\u00e9, je sourirais comme lui,\ncar il \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s certain qu'elles me donneraient pleine satisfaction.\n--Voil\u00e0 un myst\u00e8re que je ne saurais entendre, dis-je, ou comment\npourrais-je \u00eatre satisfaite d'\u00eatre jet\u00e9e \u00e0 la porte? Car si notre\nliaison n'a pas \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9couverte, je ne sais ce que j'ai fait d'autre pour\nchanger les visages que tournent vers moi tous ceux de la famille, qui\njadis me traitaient avec autant de tendresse que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 une de\nleurs enfants.\n--Mais vois-tu, mon enfant, dit-il: qu'ils sont inquiets \u00e0 ton sujet,\nc'est parfaitement vrai, mais qu'ils aient le moindre soup\u00e7on du cas tel\nqu'il est, en ce qui nous concerne, toi et moi, c'est si loin d'\u00eatre\nvrai qu'ils soup\u00e7onnent mon fr\u00e8re Robin, et, en somme, ils sont\npleinement persuad\u00e9s qu'il te fait la cour; oui-d\u00e0, et c'est ce sot\nlui-m\u00eame qui le leur a mis dans la t\u00eate, car il ne cesse de babiller\nl\u00e0-dessus et de se rendre ridicule. J'avoue que je pense qu'il a grand\ntort d'agir ainsi, puisqu'il ne saurait ne pas voir que cela les vexe et\nles rend d\u00e9sobligeants pour toi; mais c'est une satisfaction pour moi, \u00e0\ncause de l'assurance que j'en tire qu'ils ne me soup\u00e7onnent en rien, et\nj'esp\u00e8re que tu en seras satisfaite aussi.\n--Et je le suis bien, dis-je, en une mani\u00e8re, mais qui ne touche\nnullement ma position, et ce n'est pas l\u00e0 la chose principale qui me\ntourmente, quoique j'en aie \u00e9t\u00e9 bien inqui\u00e8te aussi.\n--Et qu'est-ce donc alors? dit-il.\nL\u00e0-dessus j'\u00e9clatai en larmes, et ne pus rien lui dire du tout; il\ns'effor\u00e7a de m'apaiser de son mieux, mais commen\u00e7a enfin de me presser\ntr\u00e8s fort de lui dire ce qu'il y avait; enfin, je r\u00e9pondis que je\ncroyais de mon devoir de le lui dire, et qu'il avait quelque droit de le\nsavoir, outre que j'avais besoin de son conseil, car j'\u00e9tais dans un tel\nembarras que je ne savais comment faire, et alors je lui racontai toute\nl'affaire: je lui dis avec quelle imprudence s'\u00e9tait conduit son fr\u00e8re,\nen rendant la chose si publique, car s'il l'avait gard\u00e9e secr\u00e8te\nj'aurais pu le refuser avec fermet\u00e9 sans en donner aucune raison, et,\navec le temps, il aurait cess\u00e9 ses sollicitations; mais qu'il avait eu\nla vanit\u00e9, d'abord de se persuader que je ne le refuserais pas, et qu'il\navait pris la libert\u00e9, ensuite, de parler de son dessein \u00e0 la maison\nenti\u00e8re.\nJe lui dis \u00e0 quel point je lui avais r\u00e9sist\u00e9, et combien...ses offres\n\u00e9taient honorables et sinc\u00e8res.\n--Mais, dis-je, ma situation va \u00eatre doublement difficile, car elles\nm'en veulent maintenant, parce qu'il d\u00e9sire m'avoir; mais elles m'en\nvoudront davantage quand elles verront que je l'ai refus\u00e9, et elles\ndiront bient\u00f4t: \u00abIl doit y avoir quelque chose d'autre l\u00e0-dedans\u00bb, et\nque je suis d\u00e9j\u00e0 mari\u00e9e \u00e0 quelqu'un d'autre, sans quoi je ne refuserais\njamais une alliance si au-dessus de moi que celle-ci.\nCe discours le surprit vraiment beaucoup; il me dit que j'\u00e9tais arriv\u00e9e,\nen effet, \u00e0 un point critique, et qu'il ne voyait pas comment je\npourrais me tirer d'embarras; mais qu'il y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chirait et qu'il me\nferait savoir \u00e0 notre prochaine entrevue \u00e0 quelle r\u00e9solution il s'\u00e9tait\narr\u00eat\u00e9; cependant il me pria de ne pas donner mon consentement \u00e0 son\nfr\u00e8re, ni de lui opposer un refus net, mais de le tenir en suspens.\nJe parus sursauter \u00e0 ces mots \u00abne pas donner mon consentement\u00bb; je lui\ndis qu'il savait fort bien que je n'avais pas de consentement \u00e0 donner,\nqu'il s'\u00e9tait engag\u00e9 \u00e0 m'\u00e9pouser, et que moi, par l\u00e0 m\u00eame, j'\u00e9tais\nengag\u00e9e \u00e0 lui, qu'il m'avait toujours dit que j'\u00e9tais sa femme, et que\nje me consid\u00e9rais en effet comme telle, aussi bien que si la c\u00e9r\u00e9monie\nen e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 pass\u00e9e, et que c'\u00e9tait sa propre bouche qui m'en donnait\ndroit, puisqu'il m'avait toujours persuad\u00e9e de me nommer sa femme.\n--Voyons, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, ne t'inqui\u00e8te pas de cela maintenant; si je\nne suis pas ton mari, je ferai tout l'office d'un mari, et que ces\nchoses ne te tourmentent point maintenant, mais laisse-moi examiner un\npeu plus avant cette affaire et je pourrai t'en dire davantage \u00e0 notre\nprochaine entrevue.\nAinsi il m'apaisa du mieux qu'il put, mais je le trouvai tr\u00e8s songeur,\net quoiqu'il se montr\u00e2t tr\u00e8s tendre et me bais\u00e2t mille fois et\ndavantage, je crois, et me donn\u00e2t de l'argent aussi, cependant il ne fit\nrien de plus pendant tout le temps que nous demeur\u00e2mes ensemble, qui fut\nplus de deux heures, dont je m'\u00e9tonnai fort, regardant sa coutume et\nl'occasion.\nSon fr\u00e8re ne revint pas de Londres avant cinq ou six jours, et il se\npassa deux jours encore avant qu'il eut l'occasion de lui parler; mais\nalors, le tirant \u00e0 part, il lui parla tr\u00e8s secr\u00e8tement l\u00e0-dessus, et le\nm\u00eame soir trouva moyen (car nous e\u00fbmes une longue conf\u00e9rence) de me\nr\u00e9p\u00e9ter tout leur discours qui, autant que je me le rappelle, fut\nenviron comme suit.\nIl lui dit qu'il avait ou\u00ef d'\u00e9tranges nouvelles de lui depuis son d\u00e9part\net, en particulier qu'il faisait l'amour \u00e0 Mme Betty.\n--Eh bien, dit son fr\u00e8re avec un peu d'humeur, et puis quoi? Cela\nregarde-t-il quelqu'un?\n--Voyons, lui dit son fr\u00e8re, ne te f\u00e2che pas, Robin, je ne pr\u00e9tends\nnullement m'en m\u00ealer, mais je trouve qu'elles s'en inqui\u00e8tent, et\nqu'elles ont \u00e0 ce sujet maltrait\u00e9 la pauvre fille, ce qui me peine\nautant que si c'\u00e9tait moi-m\u00eame.\n--Que veux-tu dire par ELLES? dit Robin.\n--Je veux dire ma m\u00e8re et les filles, dit le fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9. Mais \u00e9coute,\nreprend-il, est-ce s\u00e9rieux? aimes-tu vraiment la fille?\n--Eh bien, alors, dit Robin, je te parlerai librement: je l'aime\nau-dessus de toutes les femmes du monde, et je l'aurai, en d\u00e9pit de ce\nqu'elles pourront faire ou dire; j'ai confiance que la fille ne me\nrefusera point.\nJe fus perc\u00e9e au coeur \u00e0 ces paroles, car bien qu'il f\u00fbt de toute raison\nde penser que je ne le refuserais pas, cependant, je savais, en ma\nconscience, qu'il le fallait, et je voyais ma ruine dans cette\nobligation; mais je savais qu'il \u00e9tait de mon int\u00e9r\u00eat de parler\nautrement \u00e0 ce moment, et j'interrompis donc son histoire en ces termes:\n--Oui-d\u00e0, dis-je, pense-t-il que je ne le refuserai point? il verra bien\nque je le refuserai tout de m\u00eame.\n--Bien, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, mais permets-moi de te rapporter toute\nl'histoire, telle qu'elle se passa entre nous, puis tu diras ce que tu\nvoudras.\nL\u00e0-dessus il continua et me dit qu'il avait ainsi r\u00e9pondu:\n--Mais, mon fr\u00e8re, tu sais qu'elle n'a rien, et tu pourrais pr\u00e9tendre \u00e0\ndiff\u00e9rentes dames qui ont de belles fortunes.\n--Peu m'importe, dit Robin, j'aime la fille, et je ne chercherai jamais\n\u00e0 flatter ma bourse, en me mariant, aux d\u00e9pens de ma fantaisie.\n--Ainsi, ma ch\u00e9rie, ajoute-t-il, il n'y a rien \u00e0 lui opposer.\n--Si, si, dis-je, je saurai bien quoi lui opposer. J'ai appris \u00e0 dire\nnon, maintenant, quoique je ne l'eusse pas appris autrefois; si le plus\ngrand seigneur du pays m'offrait le mariage maintenant, je pourrais\nr\u00e9pondre non de tr\u00e8s bon coeur.\n--Voyons, mais, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, que peux-tu lui r\u00e9pondre? Tu sais\nfort bien, ainsi que tu le disais l'autre jour qu'il te fera je ne sais\ncombien de questions l\u00e0-dessus et toute la maison s'\u00e9tonnera de ce que\ncela peut bien signifier.\n--Comment? dis-je en souriant, je peux leur fermer la bouche \u00e0 tous,\nd'un seul coup, en lui disant, ainsi qu'\u00e0 eux, que je suis d\u00e9j\u00e0 mari\u00e9e \u00e0\nson fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9.\nIl sourit un peu, lui aussi, sur cette parole, mais je pus voir qu'elle\nle surprenait, et il ne put dissimuler le d\u00e9sordre o\u00f9 elle le jeta;\ntoutefois il r\u00e9pliqua:\n--Oui bien, dit-il, et quoique cela puisse \u00eatre vrai, en un sens,\ncependant je suppose que tu ne fais que plaisanter en parlant de donner\nune telle r\u00e9ponse, qui pourrait ne pas \u00eatre convenable pour plus d'une\nraison.\n--Non, non, dis-je gaiement, je ne suis pas si ardente \u00e0 laisser\n\u00e9chapper ce secret sans votre consentement.\n--Mais que pourras-tu leur r\u00e9pondre alors, dit-il, quand ils te\ntrouveront d\u00e9termin\u00e9e contre une alliance qui serait apparemment si fort\n\u00e0 ton avantage?\n--Comment, lui dis-je, serai-je en d\u00e9faut? En premier lieu je ne suis\npoint forc\u00e9e de leur donner de raisons et d'autre part je puis leur dire\nque je suis mari\u00e9e d\u00e9j\u00e0, et m'en tenir l\u00e0; et ce sera un arr\u00eat net pour\nlui aussi, car il ne saurait avoir de raisons pour faire une seule\nquestion ensuite.\n--Oui, dit-il, mais toute la maison te tourmentera l\u00e0-dessus, et si tu\nrefuses absolument de rien leur dire, ils en seront d\u00e9soblig\u00e9s et\npourront en outre en prendre du soup\u00e7on.\n--Alors, dis-je, que puis-je faire? Que voudriez-vous que je fisse?\nJ'\u00e9tais assez en peine avant, comme je vous ai dit; et je vous ai fait\nconna\u00eetre les d\u00e9tails afin d'avoir votre avis.\n--Ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, j'y ai beaucoup r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi, sois-en s\u00fbre; et\nquoiqu'il y ait en mon conseil bien des mortifications pour moi, et\nqu'il risque d'abord de te para\u00eetre \u00e9trange, cependant, toutes choses\nconsid\u00e9r\u00e9es, je ne vois pas de meilleure solution pour toi que de le\nlaisser aller; et si tu le trouves sinc\u00e8re et s\u00e9rieux, de l'\u00e9pouser.\nJe lui jetai un regard plein d'horreur sur ces paroles, et, devenant\np\u00e2le comme la mort, fus sur le point de tomber \u00e9vanouie de la chaise o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais assise, quand, avec un tressaut: \u00abMa ch\u00e9rie, dit-il tout haut,\nqu'as-tu? qu'y a-t-il? o\u00f9 vas-tu?\u00bb et mille autres choses pareilles, et,\nme secouant et m'appelant tour \u00e0 tour, il me ramena un peu \u00e0 moi,\nquoiqu'il se pass\u00e2t un bon moment avant que je retrouvasse pleinement\nmes sens, et je ne fus pas capable de parler pendant plusieurs minutes.\nQuand je fus pleinement remise, il commen\u00e7a de nouveau:\n--Ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, il faudrait y songer bien s\u00e9rieusement; tu peux\nassez clairement voir quelle est l'attitude de la famille dans le cas\npr\u00e9sent et qu'ils seraient tous enrag\u00e9s si j'\u00e9tais en cause, au lieu que\nce f\u00fbt mon fr\u00e8re, et, \u00e0 ce que je puis voir du moins, ce serait ma ruine\net la tienne tout ensemble.\n--Oui-d\u00e0! criai-je, parlant encore avec col\u00e8re; et toutes vos\nprotestations et vos voeux doivent-ils \u00eatre \u00e9branl\u00e9s par le d\u00e9plaisir de\nla famille? Ne vous l'ai-je pas toujours object\u00e9, et vous le traitiez\nl\u00e9g\u00e8rement, comme \u00e9tant au-dessous de vous, et de peu d'importance; et\nen est-ce venu l\u00e0, maintenant? Est-ce l\u00e0 votre foi et votre honneur,\nvotre amour et la fermet\u00e9 de vos promesses?\nIl continua \u00e0 demeurer parfaitement calme, malgr\u00e9 tous mes reproches, et\nje ne les lui \u00e9pargnais nullement; mais il r\u00e9pondit enfin:\n--Ma ch\u00e9rie, je n'ai pas manqu\u00e9 encore \u00e0 une seule promesse; je t'ai dit\nque je t'\u00e9pouserais quand j'entrerais en h\u00e9ritage; mais tu vois que mon\np\u00e8re est un homme vigoureux, de forte sant\u00e9 et qui peut vivre encore ses\ntrente ans, et n'\u00eatre pas plus vieux en somme que plusieurs qui sont\nautour de nous en ville; et tu ne m'as jamais demand\u00e9 de t'\u00e9pouser plus\nt\u00f4t, parce que tu savais que cela pourrait \u00eatre ma ruine; et pour le\nreste, je ne t'ai failli en rien.\nJe ne pouvais nier un mot de ce qu'il disait:\n--Mais comment alors, dis-je, pouvez-vous me persuader de faire un pas\nsi horrible et de vous abandonner, puisque vous ne m'avez pas\nabandonn\u00e9e? N'accorderez-vous pas qu'il y ait de mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 un peu\nd'affection et d'amour, quand il y en a tant eu du v\u00f4tre? Ne vous ai-je\npas fait des retours? N'ai-je donn\u00e9 aucun t\u00e9moignage de ma sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 et\nde ma passion? Est-ce que le sacrifice que je vous ai fait de mon\nhonneur et de ma chastet\u00e9 n'est pas une preuve de ce que je suis\nattach\u00e9e \u00e0 vous par des liens trop forts pour les briser?\n--Mais ici, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, tu pourras entrer dans une position s\u00fbre,\net para\u00eetre avec honneur, et la m\u00e9moire de ce que nous avons fait peut\n\u00eatre drap\u00e9e d'un \u00e9ternel silence, comme si rien n'en e\u00fbt jamais \u00e9t\u00e9; tu\nconserveras toujours ma sinc\u00e8re affection, mais en toute honn\u00eatet\u00e9 et\nparfaite justice envers mon fr\u00e8re; tu seras ma ch\u00e8re soeur, comme tu es\nmaintenant ma ch\u00e8re....\nEt l\u00e0 il s'arr\u00eata.\n--Votre ch\u00e8re catin, dis-je; c'\u00e9tait ce que vous vouliez dire et vous\nauriez aussi bien pu le dire; mais je vous comprends; pourtant je vous\nprie de vous souvenir des longs discours dont vous m'entreteniez, et des\nlongues heures de peine que vous vous \u00eates donn\u00e9e pour me persuader de\nme regarder comme une honn\u00eate femme; que j'\u00e9tais votre femme en\nintention, et que c'\u00e9tait un mariage aussi effectif qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pass\u00e9\nentre nous, que si nous eussions \u00e9t\u00e9 publiquement mari\u00e9s par le ministre\nde la paroisse; vous savez que ce sont l\u00e0 vos propres paroles.\nJe trouvai que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 le serrer d'un peu trop pr\u00e8s; mais j'adoucis\nles choses dans ce qui suit; il demeura comme une souche pendant un\nmoment, et je continuai ainsi:\n--Vous ne pouvez pas, dis-je, sans la plus extr\u00eame injustice, penser\nque j'aie c\u00e9d\u00e9 \u00e0 toute ces persuasions sans un amour qui ne pouvait \u00eatre\nmis en doute, qui ne pouvait \u00eatre \u00e9branl\u00e9 par rien de ce qui e\u00fbt pu\nsurvenir; si vous avez sur moi des pens\u00e9es si peu honorables, je suis\nforc\u00e9e de vous demander quel fondement je vous ai donn\u00e9 \u00e0 une telle\npersuasion. Si jadis j'ai c\u00e9d\u00e9 aux importunit\u00e9s de mon inclination, et\nsi j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 engag\u00e9e \u00e0 croire que je suis vraiment votre femme,\ndonnerai-je maintenant le d\u00e9menti \u00e0 tous ces arguments, et prendrai-je\nle nom de catin ou de ma\u00eetresse, qui est la m\u00eame chose? Et allez-vous me\ntransf\u00e9rer \u00e0 votre fr\u00e8re? Pouvez-vous transf\u00e9rer mon affection?\nPouvez-vous m'ordonner de cesser de vous aimer et m'ordonner de l'aimer?\nEst-il en mon pouvoir, croyez-vous, de faire un tel changement sur\ncommande? Allez, monsieur, dis-je, soyez persuad\u00e9 que c'est une chose\nimpossible, et, quel que puisse \u00eatre le changement de votre part, que je\nresterai toujours fid\u00e8le; et j'aime encore bien mieux, puisque nous en\nsommes venus \u00e0 une si malheureuse conjoncture, \u00eatre votre catin que la\nfemme de votre fr\u00e8re.\nIl parut satisfait et touch\u00e9 par l'impression de ce dernier discours, et\nme dit qu'il restait l\u00e0 o\u00f9 il s'\u00e9tait tenu avant; qu'il ne m'avait \u00e9t\u00e9\ninfid\u00e8le en aucune promesse qu'il m'e\u00fbt faite encore, mais que tant de\nchoses terribles s'offraient \u00e0 sa vue en cette affaire, qu'il avait\nsong\u00e9 \u00e0 l'autre comme un rem\u00e8de; mais qu'il pensait bien qu'elle ne\nmarquerait pas une enti\u00e8re s\u00e9paration entre nous, que nous pourrions, au\ncontraire, nous aimer en amis tout le reste de nos jours, et peut-\u00eatre\navec plus de satisfaction qu'il n'\u00e9tait possible en la situation o\u00f9 nous\n\u00e9tions pr\u00e9sentement; qu'il se faisait fort de dire que je ne pouvais\nrien appr\u00e9hender de sa part sur la d\u00e9couverte d'un secret qui ne\npourrait que nous r\u00e9duire \u00e0 rien, s'il paraissait au jour; enfin qu'il\nn'avait qu'une seule question \u00e0 me faire, et qui pourrait s'opposer \u00e0\nson dessein, et que s'il obtenait une r\u00e9ponse \u00e0 cette question, il ne\npouvait que penser encore que c'\u00e9tait pour moi la seule d\u00e9cision\npossible.\nJe devinai sa question sur-le-champ, \u00e0 savoir si je n'\u00e9tais pas grosse.\nPour ce qui \u00e9tait de cela, lui dis-je, il n'avait besoin d'avoir cure,\ncar je n'\u00e9tais pas grosse.\n--Eh bien, alors, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, nous n'avons pas le temps de causer\nplus longtemps maintenant; r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis; pour moi, je ne puis qu'\u00eatre\nencore d'opinion que ce sera pour toi le meilleur parti \u00e0 prendre.\nEt l\u00e0-dessus, il prit cong\u00e9, et d'autant plus \u00e0 la h\u00e2te que sa m\u00e8re et\nses soeurs sonnaient \u00e0 la grande porte dans le moment qu'il s'\u00e9tait lev\u00e9\npour partir.\nIl me laissa dans la plus extr\u00eame confusion de pens\u00e9e; et il s'en\naper\u00e7ut ais\u00e9ment le lendemain et tout le reste de la semaine, mais ne\ntrouva pas l'occasion de me joindre jusqu'au dimanche d'apr\u00e8s, qu'\u00e9tant\nindispos\u00e9e, je n'allai pas \u00e0 l'\u00e9glise, et lui, imaginant quelque excuse,\nresta \u00e0 la maison.\nEt maintenant il me tenait encore une fois pendant une heure et demie\ntoute seule, et nous retomb\u00e2mes tout du long dans les m\u00eames arguments;\nenfin je lui demandai avec chaleur quelle opinion il devait avoir de ma\npudeur, s'il pouvait supposer que j'entretinsse seulement l'id\u00e9e de\ncoucher avec deux fr\u00e8res, et lui assurai que c'\u00e9tait une chose\nimpossible; j'ajoutais que s'il me disait m\u00eame qu'il ne me reverrait\njamais (et rien que la mort ne pourrait m'\u00eatre plus terrible), pourtant\nje ne pourrais jamais entretenir une pens\u00e9e si peu honorable pour moi et\nsi vile pour lui; et qu'ainsi je le suppliais, s'il lui restait pour moi\nun grain de respect ou d'affection, qu'il ne m'en parl\u00e2t plus ou qu'il\ntir\u00e2t son \u00e9p\u00e9e pour me tuer.\nIl parut surpris de mon obstination, comme il la nomma; me dit que\nj'\u00e9tais cruelle envers moi-m\u00eame, cruelle envers lui tout ensemble; que\nc'\u00e9tait pour nous deux une crise inattendue, mais qu'il ne voyait pas\nd'autre moyen de nous sauver de la ruine, d'o\u00f9 il lui paraissait encore\nplus cruel; mais que s'il ne devait plus m'en parler, il ajouta avec une\nfroideur inusit\u00e9e qu'il ne connaissait rien d'autre dont nous eussions \u00e0\ncauser, et ainsi se leva pour prendre cong\u00e9; je me levai aussi,\napparemment avec la m\u00eame indiff\u00e9rence, mais quand il vint me donner ce\nqui semblait un baiser d'adieu, j'\u00e9clatai dans une telle passion de\nlarmes, que bien que j'eusse voulu parler, je ne le pus, et lui pressant\nseulement la main, parus lui donner l'adieu, mais pleurai violemment. Il\nen fut sensiblement \u00e9mu, se rassit, et me dit nombre de choses tendres,\nmais me pressa encore sur la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de ce qu'il avait propos\u00e9,\naffirmant toujours que si je refusais, il continuerait n\u00e9anmoins \u00e0\nm'entretenir du n\u00e9cessaire, mais me laissant clairement voir qu'il me\nrefuserait le point principal, oui, m\u00eame comme ma\u00eetresse; se faisant un\npoint d'honneur de ne pas coucher avec la femme qui, autant qu'il en\npouvait savoir, pourrait un jour ou l'autre venir \u00e0 \u00eatre la femme de son\nfr\u00e8re.\nLa simple perte que j'en faisais comme galant n'\u00e9tait pas tant mon\naffliction que la perte de sa personne, que j'aimais en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 \u00e0 la\nfolie, et la perte de toutes les esp\u00e9rances que j'entretenais, et sur\nlesquelles j'avais tout fond\u00e9, de l'avoir un jour pour mari; ces choses\nm'accabl\u00e8rent l'esprit au point qu'en somme les agonies de ma pens\u00e9e me\njet\u00e8rent en une grosse fi\u00e8vre, et il se passa longtemps que personne\ndans la famille n'attendait plus de me voir vivre.\nJ'\u00e9tais r\u00e9duite bien bas en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, et j'avais souvent le d\u00e9lire; mais\nrien n'\u00e9tait si imminent pour moi que la crainte o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais de dire dans\nmes r\u00eaveries quelque chose qui p\u00fbt lui porter pr\u00e9judice. J'\u00e9tais aussi\ntourment\u00e9e dans mon esprit par le d\u00e9sir de le voir, et lui tout autant\npar celui de me voir, car il m'aimait r\u00e9ellement avec la plus extr\u00eame\npassion; mais cela ne put se faire; il n'y eut pas le moindre moyen\nd'exprimer ce d\u00e9sir d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 ou de l'autre. Ce fut pr\u00e8s de cinq\nsemaines que je gardai le lit; et quoique la violence de ma fi\u00e8vre se\nf\u00fbt apais\u00e9e au bout de trois semaines, cependant elle revint par\nplusieurs fois; et les m\u00e9decins dirent \u00e0 deux ou trois reprises qu'il ne\npouvaient plus rien faire pour moi, et qu'il fallait laisser agir la\nnature et la maladie; au bout de cinq semaines, je me trouvai mieux,\nmais si faible, si chang\u00e9e, et je me remettais si lentement que les\nm\u00e9decins craignirent que je n'entrasse en maladie de langueur; et ce qui\nfut mon plus grand ennui, ils exprim\u00e8rent l'avis que mon esprit \u00e9tait\naccabl\u00e9, que quelque chose me tourmentait, et qu'en somme j'\u00e9tais\namoureuse. L\u00e0-dessus toute la maison se mit \u00e0 me presser de dire si\nj'\u00e9tais amoureuse ou non, et de qui; mais, comme bien je pouvais, je\nniai que je fusse amoureuse de personne.\nIls eurent \u00e0 cette occasion une picoterie sur mon propos un jour pendant\nqu'ils \u00e9taient \u00e0 table, qui pensa mettre toute la famille en tumulte.\nIls se trouvaient \u00eatre tous \u00e0 table, \u00e0 l'exception du p\u00e8re; pour moi,\nj'\u00e9tais malade, et dans ma chambre; au commencement de la conversation,\nla vieille dame qui m'avait envoy\u00e9 d'un plat \u00e0 manger, pria sa servante\nde monter me demander si j'en voulais davantage; mais la servante\nredescendit lui dire que je n'avais pas mang\u00e9 la moiti\u00e9 de ce qu'elle\nm'avait envoy\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0.\n--H\u00e9las! dit la vieille dame, la pauvre fille! Je crains bien qu'elle ne\nse remette jamais.\n--Mais, dit le fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9, comment Mme Betty pourrait-elle se remettre,\npuisqu'on dit qu'elle est amoureuse?\n--Je n'en crois rien, dit la vieille dame.\n--Pour moi, dit la soeur a\u00een\u00e9e, je ne sais qu'en dire; on a fait un tel\nvacarme sur ce qu'elle \u00e9tait si jolie et si charmante, et je ne sais\nquoi, et tout cela devant elle, que la t\u00eate de la p\u00e9ronnelle, je crois,\nen a \u00e9t\u00e9 tourn\u00e9e, et qui sait de quoi elle peut \u00eatre poss\u00e9d\u00e9e apr\u00e8s de\ntelles fa\u00e7ons? pour ma part, je ne sais qu'en penser.\n--Pourtant, ma soeur, il faut reconna\u00eetre qu'elle est tr\u00e8s jolie, dit le\nfr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9.\n--Oui certes, et infiniment plus jolie que toi, ma soeur, dit Robin, et\nvoil\u00e0 ce qui te mortifie.\n--Bon, bon, l\u00e0 n'est pas la question, dit sa soeur; la fille n'est pas\nlaide, et elle le sait bien; on n'a pas besoin de le lui r\u00e9p\u00e9ter pour la\nrendre vaniteuse.\n--Nous ne disons pas qu'elle est vaniteuse, repart le fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9, mais\nqu'elle est amoureuse; peut-\u00eatre qu'elle est amoureuse de soi-m\u00eame: il\npara\u00eet que mes soeurs ont cette opinion.\n--Je voudrais bien qu'elle f\u00fbt amoureuse de moi, dit Robin, je la\ntuerais vite de peine.\n--Que veux-tu dire par l\u00e0, fils? dit la vieille dame; comment peux-tu\nparler ainsi?\n--Mais, madame, dit encore Robin fort honn\u00eatement, pensez-vous que je\nlaisserais la pauvre fille mourir d'amour, et pour moi, qu'elle a si\npr\u00e8s de sa main pour le prendre?\n--Fi, mon fr\u00e8re, dit la soeur pu\u00een\u00e9e, comment peux-tu parler ainsi?\nVoudrais-tu donc prendre une cr\u00e9ature qui ne poss\u00e8de pas quatre sous\nvaillants au monde?\n--De gr\u00e2ce, mon enfant, dit Robin, la beaut\u00e9 est une dot et la bonne\nhumeur en plus est une double dot; je te souhaiterais pour la tienne le\ndemi-fonds qu'elle a des deux.\nDe sorte qu'il lui ferma la bouche du coup.\n--Je d\u00e9couvre, dit la soeur a\u00een\u00e9e, que si Betty n'est pas amoureuse, mon\nfr\u00e8re l'est; je m'\u00e9tonne qu'il ne s'en soit pas ouvert \u00e0 Betty: je gage\nqu'elle ne dira pas NON.\n--Celles qui c\u00e8dent quand elles sont pri\u00e9es, dit Robin, sont \u00e0 un pas\ndevant celles qui ne sont jamais pri\u00e9es de c\u00e9der, et \u00e0 deux pas devant\ncelles qui c\u00e8dent avant que d'\u00eatre pri\u00e9es, et voil\u00e0 une r\u00e9ponse pour\ntoi, ma soeur.\nCeci enflamma la soeur, et elle s'enleva de col\u00e8re et dit que les choses\nen \u00e9taient venues \u00e0 un point tel qu'il \u00e9tait temps que la donzelle\n(c'\u00e9tait moi) f\u00fbt mise hors de la famille, et qu'except\u00e9 qu'elle n'\u00e9tait\npoint en \u00e9tat d'\u00eatre jet\u00e9e \u00e0 la porte, elle esp\u00e9rait que son p\u00e8re et sa\nm\u00e8re n'y manqueraient pas, sit\u00f4t qu'on pourrait la transporter.\nRobin r\u00e9pliqua que c'\u00e9tait l'affaire du ma\u00eetre et de la ma\u00eetresse de la\nmaison, qui n'avaient pas de le\u00e7ons \u00e0 recevoir d'une personne d'aussi\npeu de jugement que sa soeur a\u00een\u00e9e.\nTout cela courut beaucoup plus loin: la soeur gronda, Robin moqua et\nrailla, mais la pauvre Betty y perdit extr\u00eamement de terrain dans la\nfamille. On me le raconta et je pleurai de tout coeur, et la vieille\ndame monta me voir, quelqu'un lui ayant dit \u00e0 quel point je m'en\ntourmentais. Je me plaignis \u00e0 elle qu'il \u00e9tait bien dur que les docteurs\ndonnassent sur moi un tel jugement pour lequel ils n'avaient point de\ncause, et que c'\u00e9tait encore plus dur si on consid\u00e9rait la situation o\u00f9\nje me trouvais dans la famille; que j'esp\u00e9rais n'avoir rien fait pour\ndiminuer son estime pour moi ou donner aucune occasion \u00e0 ce chamaillis\nentre ses fils et ses filles, et que j'avais plus grand besoin de penser\n\u00e0 ma bi\u00e8re que d'\u00eatre en amour, et la suppliai de ne pas me laisser\nsouffrir en son opinion pour les erreurs de quiconque, except\u00e9 les\nmiennes.\nElle fut sensible \u00e0 la justesse de ce que je disais, mais me dit que\npuisqu'il y avait eu une telle clameur entre eux, et que son fils cadet\njacassait de ce train, elle me priait d'avoir assez confiance en elle\npour lui r\u00e9pondre bien sinc\u00e8rement \u00e0 une seule question. Je lui dis que\nje le ferais et avec la plus extr\u00eame simplicit\u00e9 et sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9. Eh bien,\nalors, la question \u00e9tait: Y avait-il eu quelque chose entre son fils\nRobert et moi? Je lui dis avec toutes les protestations de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 que\nje pus faire et bien pouvais-je les faire, qu'il n'y avait rien et qu'il\nn'y avait jamais rien eu; je lui dis que M. Robert avait plaisant\u00e9 et\njacass\u00e9, comme elle savait que c'\u00e9tait sa mani\u00e8re, et que j'avais\ntoujours pris ses paroles \u00e0 la fa\u00e7on que je supposais qu'il les\nentendait, pour un \u00e9trange discours en l'air sans aucune signification,\net lui assurai qu'il n'avait pas pass\u00e9 la moindre syllabe de ce qu'elle\nvoulait dire entre nous, et que ceux qui l'avaient insinu\u00e9 m'avaient\nfait beaucoup de tort \u00e0 moi et n'avaient rendu aucun service \u00e0 M.\nRobert.\nLa vieille dame f\u00fbt pleinement satisfaite et me baisa, me consola et me\nparla gaiement, me recommanda d'avoir bien soin de ma sant\u00e9 et de ne me\nlaisser manquer de rien, et ainsi prit cong\u00e9; mais quand elle\nredescendit, elle trouva le fr\u00e8re avec ses soeurs aux prises; elles\n\u00e9taient irrit\u00e9es jusqu'\u00e0 la fureur, parce qu'il leur reprochait d'\u00eatre\nvilaines, de n'avoir jamais eu de galants, de n'avoir jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 pri\u00e9es\nd'amour, et d'avoir l'effronterie presque de le faire les premi\u00e8res, et\nmille choses semblables; il leur opposait, en raillant, Mme Betty, comme\nelle \u00e9tait jolie, comme elle avait bon caract\u00e8re, comme elle chantait\nmieux qu'elles deux et dansait mieux, et combien elle \u00e9tait mieux faite,\nen quoi faisant il n'omettait pas de chose d\u00e9plaisante qui p\u00fbt les\nvexer. La vieille dame descendit au beau milieu de la querelle et, pour\nl'arr\u00eater, leur dit la conversation qu'elle avait eue avec moi et\ncomment j'avais r\u00e9pondu qu'il n'y avait rien entre M. Robert et moi.\n--Elle a tort l\u00e0-dessus, dit Robin, car s'il n'y avait pas tant de\nchoses entre nous, nous serions plus pr\u00e8s l'un de l'autre que nous ne le\nsommes; je lui ai dit que je l'aimais extraordinairement, dit-il, mais\nje n'ai jamais pu faire croire \u00e0 la friponne que je parlais\ns\u00e9rieusement.\n--Et je ne sais comment tu l'aurais pu, dit sa m\u00e8re, il n'y a pas de\npersonne de bon sens qui puisse te croire s\u00e9rieux de parler ainsi \u00e0 une\npauvre fille dont tu connais si bien la position. Mais, de gr\u00e2ce, mon\nfils, ajoute-t-elle, puisque tu nous dis que tu n'as pu lui faire croire\nque tu parlais s\u00e9rieusement, qu'en devons-nous croire, nous? Car tu\ncours tellement \u00e0 l'aventure dans tes discours, que personne ne sait si\ntu es s\u00e9rieux ou si tu plaisantes; mais puisque je d\u00e9couvre que la\nfille, de ton propre aveu, a r\u00e9pondu sinc\u00e8rement, je voudrais que tu le\nfisses aussi, en me disant s\u00e9rieusement pour que je sois fix\u00e9e: Y a-t-il\nquelque chose l\u00e0-dessous ou non? Es-tu s\u00e9rieux ou non? Es-tu \u00e9gar\u00e9, en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, ou non? C'est une question grave, et je voudrais bien que nous\nfussions satisfaites sur ce point.\n--Par ma foi, madame, dit Robin, il ne sert de rien dorer la chose ou\nd'en faire plus de mensonges: je suis s\u00e9rieux autant qu'un homme qui\ns'en va se faire pendre. Si Mme Betty voulait dire qu'elle m'aime et\nqu'elle veut bien m'\u00e9pouser, je la prendrais demain matin \u00e0 jeun, et je\ndirais: \u00abJe la tiens\u00bb, au lieu de manger mon d\u00e9jeuner.\n--Alors, dit la m\u00e8re, j'ai un fils de perdu--et elle le dit d'un ton\nbien lugubre, comme une qui en f\u00fbt tr\u00e8s afflig\u00e9e.\n--J'esp\u00e8re que non, madame, dit Robin: il n'y a pas d'homme perdu si une\nhonn\u00eate femme le retrouve.\n--Mais, mon enfant, dit la vieille dame, c'est une mendiante!\n--Mais alors, madame, elle a d'autant plus besoin de charit\u00e9, dit Robin;\nje l'\u00f4terai de dessus les bras de la paroisse, et elle et moi nous irons\nmendier ensemble.\n--C'est mal de plaisanter avec ces choses, dit la m\u00e8re.\n--Je ne plaidante pas, madame, dit Robin: nous viendrons implorer votre\npardon, madame, et votre b\u00e9n\u00e9diction, madame, et celle de mon p\u00e8re.\n--Tout ceci est hors de propos, fils, dit la m\u00e8re; si tu es s\u00e9rieux, tu\nes perdu.\n--J'ai bien peur que non, dit-il, car j'ai vraiment peur qu'elle ne\nveuille pas me prendre; apr\u00e8s toutes les criailleries de mes soeurs, je\ncrois que je ne parviendrai jamais \u00e0 l'y persuader.\n--Voil\u00e0 bien d'une belle histoire, elle n'est pas d\u00e9j\u00e0 partie si loin;\nMme Betty n'est point une sotte, dit la plus jeune soeur, penses-tu\nqu'elle a appris \u00e0 dire NON mieux que le reste du monde?\n--Non, madame Bel-Esprit, dit Robin, en effet, Mme Betty n'est point une\nsotte, mais Mme Betty peut \u00eatre engag\u00e9e d'une autre mani\u00e8re, et alors\nquoi?\n--Pour cela, dit la soeur a\u00een\u00e9e, nous ne pouvons rien en dire, mais \u00e0\nqui donc serait-elle engag\u00e9e? Elle ne sort jamais; il faut bien que ce\nsoit entre vous.\n--Je n'ai rien \u00e0 r\u00e9pondre l\u00e0-dessus, dit Robin, j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 suffisamment\nexamin\u00e9; voici mon fr\u00e8re, _s'il faut bien que ce soit entre nous_,\nentreprenez-le \u00e0 son tour.\nCeci piqua le fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9 au vif, et il en conclut que Robin avait\nd\u00e9couvert quelque chose, toutefois il se garda de para\u00eetre troubl\u00e9:\n--De gr\u00e2ce, dit-il, ne va donc pas faire passer tes histoires \u00e0 mon\ncompte; je ne trafique pas de ces sortes de marchandises; je n'ai rien \u00e0\ndire \u00e0 aucune Mme Betty dans la paroisse.\nEt, l\u00e0-dessus, il se leva et d\u00e9campa.\n--Non, dit la soeur a\u00een\u00e9e, je me fais forte de r\u00e9pondre pour mon fr\u00e8re,\nil conna\u00eet mieux le monde.\nAinsi se termina ce discours, qui laissait le fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9 confondu; il\nconclut que son fr\u00e8re avait tout enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9couvert, et se mit \u00e0\ndouter si j'y avais ou non pris part; mais, malgr\u00e9 toute sa subtilit\u00e9,\nil ne put parvenir \u00e0 me joindre; enfin, il tomba dans un tel embarras,\nqu'il en pensa d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer et r\u00e9solut qu'il me verrait quoiqu'il en\nadv\u00eent. En effet, il s'y prit de fa\u00e7on qu'un jour, apr\u00e8s d\u00eener, guettant\nsa soeur a\u00een\u00e9e jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il la v\u00eet monter l'escalier, il court apr\u00e8s\nelle.\n--\u00c9coute, ma soeur, dit-il, o\u00f9 donc est cette femme malade? Est-ce qu'on\nne peut pas la voir?\n--Si, dit la soeur, je crois que oui; mais laisse-moi d'abord entrer un\ninstant, et puis je te le dirai.\nAinsi elle courut jusqu'\u00e0 ma porte et m'avertit, puis elle lui cria:\n--Mon fr\u00e8re, dit-elle, tu peux rentrer s'il te pla\u00eet.\nSi bien qu'il entra, semblant perdu dans la m\u00eame sorte de fantaisie:\n--Eh bien, dit-il \u00e0 la porte, en entrant, o\u00f9 est donc cette personne\nmalade qui est amoureuse? Comment vous trouvez-vous, madame Betty?\nJ'aurais voulu me lever de ma chaise, mais j'\u00e9tais si faible que je ne\nle pus pendant un bon moment; et il le vit bien, et sa soeur aussi, et\nelle dit:\n--Allons, n'essayez pas de vous lever, mon fr\u00e8re ne d\u00e9sire aucune esp\u00e8ce\nde c\u00e9r\u00e9monie, surtout maintenant que vous \u00eates si faible.\n--Non, non, madame Betty, je vous en prie, restez assise\ntranquillement, dit-il,--et puis s'assied sur une chaise, droit en face\nde moi, o\u00f9 il parut \u00eatre extraordinairement gai.\nIl nous tint une quantit\u00e9 de discours vagues, \u00e0 sa soeur et \u00e0 moi;\nparfois \u00e0 propos d'une chose, parfois \u00e0 propos d'une autre, \u00e0 seule fin\nde l'amuser, et puis de temps en temps revenait \u00e0 la vieille histoire.\n--Pauvre madame Betty, dit-il, c'est une triste chose que d'\u00eatre\namoureuse; voyez, cela vous a bien tristement affaiblie.\nEnfin je parlai un peu.\n--Je suis heureuse de vous voir si gai, monsieur, dis-je, mais je crois\nque le docteur aurait pu trouver mieux \u00e0 faire que de s'amuser aux\nd\u00e9pens de ses patients; si je n'avais eu d'autre maladie, je me serais\ntrop bien souvenue du proverbe pour avoir souffert qu'il me rend\u00eet\nvisite.\n--Quel proverbe? dit-il; quoi?\n          _Quand amour est en l'\u00e2me,_\n          _Le docteur est un \u00e2ne._\nEst-ce que c'est celui-l\u00e0, madame Betty?\nJe souris et ne dis rien.\n--Oui-d\u00e0! dit-il, je crois que l'effet a bien prouv\u00e9 que la cause est\nd'amour; car il semble que le docteur vous ait rendu bien peu de\nservice; vous vous remettez tr\u00e8s lentement, je soup\u00e7onne quelque chose\nl\u00e0-dessous, madame; je soup\u00e7onne que vous soyez malade du mal des\nincurables.\nJe souris et dis: \u00abNon, vraiment, monsieur, ce n'est point du tout ma\nmaladie.\u00bb\nNous e\u00fbmes abondance de tels discours, et parfois d'autres qui n'avaient\npas plus de signification; d'aventure il me demanda de leur chanter une\nchanson; sur quoi je souris et dis que mes jours de chansons \u00e9taient\npass\u00e9s. Enfin il me demanda si je voulais qu'il me jou\u00e2t de la fl\u00fbte; sa\nsoeur dit qu'elle croyait que ma t\u00eate ne pourrait le supporter; je\nm'inclinai et dis:\n--Je vous prie, madame, ne vous y opposez pas; j'aime beaucoup la fl\u00fbte.\nAlors sa soeur dit: \u00abEh bien, joue alors, mon fr\u00e8re.\u00bb Sur quoi il tira\nde sa poche la clef de son cabinet:\n--Ch\u00e8re soeur, dit-il, je suis bien paresseux; je te prie d'aller\njusque-l\u00e0 me chercher ma fl\u00fbte; elle est dans tel tiroir (nommant un\nendroit o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait s\u00fbr qu'elle n'\u00e9tait point, afin qu'elle p\u00fbt mettre\nun peu de temps \u00e0 la recherche).\nSit\u00f4t qu'elle fut partie, il me raconta toute l'histoire du discours de\nson fr\u00e8re \u00e0 mon sujet, et de son inqui\u00e9tude qui \u00e9tait la cause de\nl'invention qu'il avait faite de cette visite. Je l'assurai que je\nn'avais jamais ouvert la bouche, soit \u00e0 son fr\u00e8re, soit \u00e0 personne\nd'autre; je lui dis l'horrible perplexit\u00e9 o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais; que mon amour pour\nlui, et la proposition qu'il m'avait faite d'oublier cette affection et\nde la transporter sur un autre, m'avaient abattue; et que j'avais mille\nfois souhait\u00e9 de mourir plut\u00f4t que de gu\u00e9rir et d'avoir \u00e0 lutter avec\nles m\u00eames circonstances qu'avant; j'ajoutai que je pr\u00e9voyais qu'aussit\u00f4t\nremise je devrais quitter la famille, et que, pour ce qui \u00e9tait\nd'\u00e9pouser son fr\u00e8re, j'en abhorrais la pens\u00e9e, apr\u00e8s ce qui s'\u00e9tait\npass\u00e9 entre nous, et qu'il pouvait demeurer persuad\u00e9 que je ne reverrais\njamais son fr\u00e8re \u00e0 ce sujet. Que s'il voulait briser tous ses voeux et\nses serments et ses engagements envers moi, que cela fut entre sa\nconscience et lui-m\u00eame; mais il ne serait jamais capable de dire que\nmoi, qu'il avait persuad\u00e9e de se nommer sa femme, et qui lui avais donn\u00e9\nla libert\u00e9 de faire usage de moi comme d'une femme, je ne lui avais pas\n\u00e9t\u00e9 fid\u00e8le comme doit l'\u00eatre une femme, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt \u00eatre envers moi.\nIl allait r\u00e9pondre et avait dit qu'il \u00e9tait f\u00e2ch\u00e9 de ne pouvoir me\npersuader, et il allait en dire davantage, mais il entendit sa soeur qui\nrevenait, et je l'entendis aussi bien; et pourtant je m'arrachai ces\nquelques mots en r\u00e9ponse, qu'on ne pourrait jamais me persuader d'aimer\nun fr\u00e8re et d'\u00e9pouser l'autre. Il secoua la t\u00eate et dit: \u00abAlors je suis\nperdu.\u00bb Et sur ce point sa soeur entra dans la chambre et lui dit\nqu'elle ne pouvait trouver la fl\u00fbte. \u00abEh bien, dit-il gaiement, cette\nparesse ne sert de rien\u00bb, puis se l\u00e8ve et s'en va lui-m\u00eame pour la\nchercher, mais revient aussi les mains vides, non qu'il n'e\u00fbt pu la\ntrouver, mais il n'avait nulle envie de jouer; et d'ailleurs le message\nqu'il avait donn\u00e9 \u00e0 sa soeur avait trouv\u00e9 son objet d'autre mani\u00e8re; car\nil d\u00e9sirait seulement me parler, ce qu'il avait fait, quoique non pas\ngrandement \u00e0 sa satisfaction.\nIl se passa, peu de semaines apr\u00e8s, que je pus aller et venir dans la\nmaison, comme avant, et commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me sentir plus forte; mais je\ncontinuai d'\u00eatre m\u00e9lancolique et renferm\u00e9e, ce qui surprit toute la\nfamille, except\u00e9 celui qui en savait la raison; toutefois ce fut\nlongtemps avant qu'il y pr\u00eet garde, et moi, aussi r\u00e9pugnante \u00e0 parler\nque lui, je me conduisis avec tout autant de respect, mais jamais ne\nproposai de dire un mot en particulier en quelque mani\u00e8re que ce f\u00fbt; et\nce man\u00e8ge dura seize ou dix-sept semaines; de sorte qu'attendant chaque\njour d'\u00eatre renvoy\u00e9e de la famille, par suite du d\u00e9plaisir qu'ils\navaient pris sur un autre chef en quoi je n'avais point de faute, je\nn'attendais rien de plus de ce gentilhomme, apr\u00e8s tous ses voeux\nsolennels, que ma perte et mon abandon.\n\u00c0 la fin je fis moi-m\u00eame \u00e0 la famille une ouverture au sujet de mon\nd\u00e9part; car un jour que la vieille dame me parlait s\u00e9rieusement de ma\nposition et de la pesanteur que la maladie avait laiss\u00e9e sur mes\nesprits:\n--Je crains, Betty, me dit la vieille dame, que ce que je vous ai confi\u00e9\nau sujet de mon fils n'ait eu sur vous quelque influence et que vous ne\nsoyez m\u00e9lancolique \u00e0 son propos; voulez-vous, je vous prie, me dire ce\nqu'il en est, si toutefois ce n'est point trop de libert\u00e9? car pour\nRobin, il ne fait que se moquer et plaisanter quand je lui en parle.\n--Mais, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, madame, dis-je, l'affaire en est o\u00f9 je ne voudrais\npas qu'elle f\u00fbt, et je serai enti\u00e8rement sinc\u00e8re avec vous, quoi qu'il\nm'en advienne. Monsieur Robert m'a plusieurs fois propos\u00e9 le mariage, ce\nque je n'avais aucune raison d'attendre, regardant ma pauvre condition;\nmais je lui ai toujours r\u00e9sist\u00e9, et cela peut-\u00eatre avec des termes plus\npositifs qu'il ne me convenait, eu \u00e9gard au respect que je devrais avoir\npour toute branche de votre famille; mais, dis-je, madame, je n'aurais\njamais pu oublier \u00e0 ce point les obligations que je vous ai, et \u00e0 toute\nvotre maison, et souffrir de consentir \u00e0 une chose que je savais devoir\nvous \u00eatre n\u00e9cessairement fort d\u00e9sobligeante, et je lui ai dit\npositivement que jamais je n'entretiendrais une pens\u00e9e de cette sorte, \u00e0\nmoins d'avoir votre consentement, et aussi celui de son p\u00e8re, \u00e0 qui\nj'\u00e9tais li\u00e9e par tant d'invincibles obligations.\n--Et ceci est-il possible, madame Betty? dit la vieille dame. Alors vous\navez \u00e9t\u00e9 bien plus juste envers nous que nous ne l'avons \u00e9t\u00e9 pour vous;\ncar nous vous avons tous regard\u00e9e comme une esp\u00e8ce de pi\u00e8ge dress\u00e9\ncontre mon fils; et j'avais \u00e0 vous faire une proposition au sujet de\nvotre d\u00e9part, qui \u00e9tait caus\u00e9 par cette crainte; mais je n'en avais pas\nfait encore mention, parce que je redoutais de trop vous affliger et de\nvous abattre de nouveau; car nous avons encore de l'estime pour vous,\nquoique non pas au point de la laisser tourner \u00e0 la ruine de mon fils;\nmais s'il en est comme vous dites, nous vous avons tous fait grand tort.\n--Pour ce qui est de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de ce que j'avance, madame, dis-je, je\nvous en remets \u00e0 votre fils lui-m\u00eame: s'il veut me faire quelque\njustice, il vous dira l'histoire tout justement comme je l'ai dite.\nVoil\u00e0 la vieille dame partie chez ses filles, et leur raconte toute\nl'histoire justement comme je la lui avais dite, et vous pensez bien\nqu'elles en furent surprises comme je croyais qu'elles le seraient;\nl'une dit qu'elle ne l'aurait jamais cru; l'autre, que Robin \u00e9tait un\nsot; une autre dit qu'elle n'en croyait pas un mot, et qu'elle gagerait\nque Robin raconterait l'histoire d'autre fa\u00e7on; mais la vieille dame,\nr\u00e9solue \u00e0 aller au fond des choses, avant que je pusse avoir la moindre\noccasion de faire conna\u00eetre \u00e0 son fils ce qui s'\u00e9tait pass\u00e9, r\u00e9solut\naussi de parler \u00e0 son fils sur-le-champ, et le fit chercher, car il\nn'\u00e9tait all\u00e9 qu'\u00e0 la maison d'un avocat, en ville, et, sur le message,\nrevint aussit\u00f4t.\nD\u00e8s qu'il arriva, car elles \u00e9taient toutes ensemble:\n--Assieds-toi, Robin, dit la vieille dame, il faut que je cause un peu\navec toi.\n--De tout mon coeur, madame, dit Robin, l'air tr\u00e8s gai; j'esp\u00e8re qu'il\ns'agit d'une honn\u00eate femme pour moi, car je suis bien en peine\nl\u00e0-dessus.\n--Comment cela peut-il \u00eatre? dit sa m\u00e8re: n'as-tu pas dit que tu \u00e9tais\nr\u00e9solu \u00e0 prendre Mme Betty?\n--Tout juste, madame, dit Robin, mais il y a quelqu'un qui interdit les\nbans.\n--Interdit les bans? qui cela peut-il \u00eatre?\n--Point d'autre que Mme Betty elle-m\u00eame, dit Robin.\n--Comment, dit sa m\u00e8re, lui as-tu donc pos\u00e9 la question?\n--Oui vraiment, madame, dit Robin, je l'ai attaqu\u00e9e en forme cinq fois\ndepuis qu'elle a \u00e9t\u00e9 malade, et j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 repouss\u00e9; la friponne est si\nferme qu'elle ne veut ni capituler ni c\u00e9der \u00e0 aucuns termes, sinon tels\nque je ne puis effectivement accorder.\n--Explique-toi, dit la m\u00e8re, car je suis surprise, je ne te comprends\npas; j'esp\u00e8re que tu ne parles pas s\u00e9rieusement.\n--Mais, madame, dit-il, le cas est assez clair en ce qui me concerne: il\ns'explique de lui-m\u00eame; elle ne veut pas de moi--voil\u00e0 ce qu'elle\ndit--n'est-ce pas assez clair? Je crois que c'est clair, vraiment, et\nsuffisamment p\u00e9nible aussi.\n--Oui, mais, dit la m\u00e8re, tu parles de conditions que tu ne peux\naccorder; quoi? Veut-elle un contrat? Ce que tu lui apporteras doit \u00eatre\nselon sa dot; qu'est-ce qu'elle t'apporte?\n--Oh! pour la fortune, dit Robin, elle est assez riche; je suis\nsatisfait sur ce point; mais c'est moi qui ne suis pas capable\nd'accomplir ses conditions, et elle est d\u00e9cid\u00e9e de ne pas me prendre\navant qu'elles soient remplies.\nIci les soeurs interrompirent.\n--Madame, dit la soeur pu\u00een\u00e9e, il est impossible d'\u00eatre s\u00e9rieux avec\nlui; il ne r\u00e9pondra jamais directement \u00e0 rien; vous feriez mieux de le\nlaisser en repos, et de n'en plus parler; vous savez assez comment\ndisposer d'elle pour la mettre hors de son chemin.\nRobin fut un peu \u00e9chauff\u00e9 par l'impertinence de sa soeur, mais il la\njoignit en un moment.\n--Il y a deux sortes de personnes, madame, dit-il, en se tournant vers\nsa m\u00e8re, avec lesquelles il est impossible de discuter: c'est une sage\net une sotte; il est un peu dur pour moi d'avoir \u00e0 lutter \u00e0 la fois\ncontre les deux.\nLa plus jeune soeur s'entremit ensuite.\n--Nous devons \u00eatre bien sottes, en effet, dit-elle, dans l'opinion de\nmon fr\u00e8re, pour qu'il pense nous faire croire qu'il a s\u00e9rieusement\ndemand\u00e9 \u00e0 Mme Betty de l'\u00e9pouser et qu'elle l'a refus\u00e9.\n--\u00abTu r\u00e9pondras, et tu ne r\u00e9pondras point\u00bb, a dit Salomon, r\u00e9pliqua son\nfr\u00e8re; quand ton fr\u00e8re a dit qu'il ne lui avait pas demand\u00e9 moins de\ncinq fois, et qu'elle l'avait fermement refus\u00e9, il me semble qu'une plus\njeune soeur n'a pas \u00e0 douter de sa v\u00e9racit\u00e9, quand sa m\u00e8re ne l'a point\nfait.\n--C'est que ma m\u00e8re, vois-tu, n'a pas bien compris, dit la seconde\nsoeur.\n--Il y a quelque diff\u00e9rence, dit Robin, entre demander une explication\net me dire qu'elle ne me croit pas.\n--Eh bien, mais, fils, dit la vieille dame, si tu es dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 nous\nlaisser p\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans ce myst\u00e8re, quelles \u00e9taient donc ces conditions si\ndures?\n--Oui, madame, dit Robin, je l'eusse fait d\u00e8s longtemps, si ces\nf\u00e2cheuses ici ne m'avaient harcel\u00e9 par mani\u00e8re d'interruption. Les\nconditions sont que je vous am\u00e8ne, vous et mon p\u00e8re, \u00e0 y consentir, sans\nquoi elle proteste qu'elle ne me verra plus jamais \u00e0 ce propos; et ce\nsont des conditions, comme je l'ai dit, que je suppose que je ne pourrai\njamais remplir; j'esp\u00e8re que mes ardentes soeurs sont satisfaites\nmaintenant, et qu'elles vont un peu rougir.\nCette r\u00e9ponse fut surprenante pour elles toutes, quoique moins pour la\nm\u00e8re, \u00e0 cause de ce que je lui avais dit; pour les filles, elles\ndemeur\u00e8rent muettes longtemps; mais la m\u00e8re dit, avec quelque passion:\n--Eh bien, j'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 entendu ceci, mais je ne pouvais le croire; mais\ns'il en est ainsi, nous avons toutes fait tort \u00e0 Betty, et elle s'est\nconduite mieux que je ne l'esp\u00e9rais.\n--Oui, vraiment, dit la soeur a\u00een\u00e9e, s'il en est ainsi, elle a fort bien\nagi, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9.\n--Il faut bien avouer, dit la m\u00e8re, que ce n'est point sa faute \u00e0 elle\ns'il a \u00e9t\u00e9 assez sot pour se le mettre dans l'esprit; mais de lui avoir\nrendu une telle r\u00e9ponse montre plus de respect pour nous que je ne\nsaurais l'exprimer; j'en estimerai la fille davantage, tant que je la\nconna\u00eetrai.\n--Mais non pas moi, dit Robin, \u00e0 moins que vous donniez votre\nconsentement.\n--Pour cela, j'y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chirai encore, dit la m\u00e8re; je t'assure que, s'il\nn'y avait pas bien d'autres objections, la conduite qu'elle a eue\nm'am\u00e8nerait fort loin sur le chemin du consentement.\n--Je voudrais bien qu'elle vous amen\u00e2t jusqu'au bout, dit Robin: si vous\naviez autant souci de me rendre heureux que de me rendre riche, vous\nconsentiriez bient\u00f4t.\n--Mais voyons, Robin, dit la m\u00e8re encore, es-tu r\u00e9ellement s\u00e9rieux?\nas-tu vraiment envie de l'avoir?\n--R\u00e9ellement, madame, dit Robin, je trouve dur que vous me questionniez\nencore sur ce chapitre; je ne dis pas que je l'aurai: comment\npourrais-je me r\u00e9soudre l\u00e0-dessus puisque vous voyez bien que je ne\npourrai l'avoir sans votre consentement? mais je dis ceci, et je suis\ns\u00e9rieux, que je ne prendrai personne d'autre, si je me puis aider:\n\u00abBetty ou personne\u00bb,--voil\u00e0 ma devise! et le choix entre les deux est\naux soins de votre coeur, madame, pourvu seulement que mes soeurs ici,\nqui ont si bon naturel, ne prennent point part au vote.\nTout ceci \u00e9tait affreux pour moi, car la m\u00e8re commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 c\u00e9der, et\nRobin la serrait de pr\u00e8s. D'autre part, elle tint conseil avec son fils\na\u00een\u00e9, et il usa de tous les arguments du monde pour lui persuader de\nconsentir, all\u00e9guant l'amour passionn\u00e9 que son fr\u00e8re me portait, et le\ng\u00e9n\u00e9reux respect que j'avais montr\u00e9 pour la famille en refusant mes\navantages sur un d\u00e9licat point d'honneur, et mille choses semblables. Et\nquant au p\u00e8re, c'\u00e9tait un homme tout tracass\u00e9 par les affaires\npubliques, occup\u00e9 \u00e0 faire valoir son argent, bien rarement chez lui,\nfort soucieux de ses affaires, et qui laissait toutes ces choses aux\nsoins de sa femme.\nVous pouvez facilement penser que le secret \u00e9tant, comme ils croyaient,\nd\u00e9couvert, il n'\u00e9tait plus si difficile ni si dangereux pour le fr\u00e8re\na\u00een\u00e9, que personne ne soup\u00e7onnait de rien, d'avoir acc\u00e8s plus libre\njusqu'\u00e0 moi; oui, et m\u00eame sa m\u00e8re lui proposa de causer avec Mme Betty,\nce qui \u00e9tait justement ce qu'il d\u00e9sirait:\n--Il se peut, fils, dit-elle, que tu aies plus de clart\u00e9s en cette\naffaire que je n'en ai, et tu jugeras si elle a montr\u00e9 la r\u00e9solution que\ndit Robin, ou non.\nIl ne pouvait rien souhaiter de mieux, et, feignant de c\u00e9der au d\u00e9sir de\nsa m\u00e8re, elle m'amena vers lui dans la propre chambre o\u00f9 elle couchait,\nme dit que son fils avait affaire avec moi \u00e0 sa requ\u00eate, puis nous\nlaissa ensemble, et il ferma la porte sur elle.\nIl revint vers moi, me prit dans ses bras et me baisa tr\u00e8s tendrement,\nmais me dit que les choses en \u00e9taient venues \u00e0 leur crise, et que\nj'avais pouvoir de me rendre heureuse ou infortun\u00e9e ma vie durant; que\nsi je ne pouvais m'accorder \u00e0 son d\u00e9sir, nous serions tous deux perdus.\nPuis il me dit toute l'histoire pass\u00e9e entre Robin, comme il l'appelait,\nsa m\u00e8re, ses soeurs et lui-m\u00eame.\n--Et maintenant, ma ch\u00e8re enfant, dit-il, consid\u00e9rez ce que ce serait\nque d'\u00e9pouser un gentilhomme de bonne famille, de belle fortune, avec le\nconsentement de toute la maison, pour jouir de tout ce que le monde vous\npeut offrir; imaginez, d'autre part, que vous serez plong\u00e9e dans la\nnoire condition d'une femme qui a perdu sa bonne renomm\u00e9e; et quoique je\nresterai votre ami priv\u00e9 tant que je vivrai, toutefois, ainsi que je\nserais toujours soup\u00e7onn\u00e9, ainsi craindrez-vous de me voir, et moi de\nvous reconna\u00eetre.\nIl ne me laissa pas le temps de r\u00e9pondre, mais poursuivit ainsi:\n--Ce qui s'est pass\u00e9 entre nous, mon enfant, tant que nous serons\nd'accord, peut \u00eatre enterr\u00e9 et oubli\u00e9; je resterai toujours votre ami\nsinc\u00e8re, sans nulle inclination \u00e0 une intimit\u00e9 plus voisine quand vous\ndeviendrez ma soeur; je vous supplie d'y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir et de ne point vous\nopposer vous-m\u00eame \u00e0 votre salut et \u00e0 votre prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9: et, afin de vous\nassurer de ma sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9, ajoute-t-il, je vous offre ici cinq cents\nlivres en mani\u00e8re d'excuse pour les libert\u00e9s que j'ai prises avec vous,\net que nous regarderons, si vous voulez, comme quelques folies de nos\nvies pass\u00e9es dont il faut esp\u00e9rer que nous pourrons nous repentir.\nJe ne puis pas dire qu'aucune de ces paroles m'e\u00fbt assez \u00e9mue pour me\ndonner une pens\u00e9e d\u00e9cisive, jusqu'enfin il me dit tr\u00e8s clairement que si\nje refusais, il avait le regret d'ajouter qu'il ne saurait continuer\navec moi sur le m\u00eame pied qu'auparavant; que bien qu'il m'aim\u00e2t autant\nque jamais, et que je lui donnasse tout l'agr\u00e9ment du monde, le\nsentiment de la vertu ne l'avait pas abandonn\u00e9 au point qu'il souffr\u00eet\nde coucher avec une femme \u00e0 qui son fr\u00e8re faisait sa cour pour\nl'\u00e9pouser; que s'il prenait cong\u00e9 de moi sur un refus, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt\nfaire pour ne me laisser manquer de rien, s'\u00e9tant engag\u00e9 d'abord \u00e0\nm'entretenir, pourtant je ne devais point \u00eatre surprise s'il \u00e9tait forc\u00e9\nde me dire qu'il ne pouvait se permettre de me revoir, et qu'en v\u00e9rit\u00e9\nje ne pouvais l'esp\u00e9rer.\nJ'\u00e9coutai cette derni\u00e8re partie avec quelques signes de surprise et de\ntrouble, et je me retins \u00e0 grand'peine de p\u00e2mer, car vraiment je\nl'aimais jusqu'\u00e0 l'extravagance; mais il vit mon trouble, et m'engagea \u00e0\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir s\u00e9rieusement, m'assura que c'\u00e9tait la seule mani\u00e8re de\npr\u00e9server notre mutuelle affection; que dans cette situation nous\npourrions nous aimer en amis, avec la plus extr\u00eame passion, et avec un\namour d'une parfaite puret\u00e9, libres de nos justes remords, libres des\nsoup\u00e7ons d'autres personnes; qu'il me serait toujours reconnaissant du\nbonheur qu'il me devait; qu'il serait mon d\u00e9biteur tant qu'il vivrait,\net qu'il payerait sa dette tant qu'il lui resterait le souffle.\nAinsi, il m'amena, en somme, \u00e0 une esp\u00e8ce d'h\u00e9sitation, o\u00f9 je me\nrepr\u00e9sentais tous les dangers avec des figures vives, encore forc\u00e9es par\nmon imagination; je me voyais jet\u00e9e seule dans l'immensit\u00e9 du monde,\npauvre fille perdue, car je n'\u00e9tais rien de moins, et peut-\u00eatre que je\nserais expos\u00e9e comme telle; avec bien peu d'argent pour me maintenir,\nsans ami, sans connaissance au monde entier, sinon en cette ville o\u00f9 je\nne pouvais pr\u00e9tendre rester. Tout cela me terrifiait au dernier point,\net il prenait garde \u00e0 toutes occasions de me peindre ces choses avec les\nplus sinistres couleurs; d'autre part, il ne manquait pas de me mettre\ndevant les yeux la vie facile et prosp\u00e8re que j'allais mener.\nIl r\u00e9pondit \u00e0 toutes les objections que je pouvais faire, et qui \u00e9taient\ntir\u00e9es de son affection et de ses anciennes promesses, en me montrant la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions de prendre d'autres mesures; et, quant \u00e0 ses\nserments de mariage, le cours naturel des choses, dit-il, y avait mis\nfin par la grande probabilit\u00e9 qu'il y avait que je serais la femme de\nson fr\u00e8re avant le temps auquel se rapportaient toutes ses promesses.\nAinsi, en somme, je puis le dire, il me raisonna contre toute raison et\nconquit tous mes arguments, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 apercevoir le danger o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais et o\u00f9 je n'avais pas song\u00e9 d'abord, qui \u00e9tait d'\u00eatre laiss\u00e9e l\u00e0\npar les deux fr\u00e8res, et abandonn\u00e9e seule au monde pour trouver le moyen\nde vivre.\nCeci et sa persuasion m'arrach\u00e8rent enfin mon consentement, quoique avec\ntant de r\u00e9pugnance qu'il \u00e9tait bien facile de voir que j'irais \u00e0\nl'\u00e9glise comme l'ours au poteau; j'avais aussi quelques petites craintes\nque mon nouvel \u00e9poux, pour qui, d'ailleurs, je n'avais pas la moindre\naffection, f\u00fbt assez clairvoyant pour me demander des comptes \u00e0 notre\npremi\u00e8re rencontre au lit; mais soit qu'il l'e\u00fbt fait \u00e0 dessein ou non,\nje n'en sais rien, son fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9 eut soin de le bien faire boire avant\nqu'il s'all\u00e2t coucher, de sorte que j'eus le plaisir d'avoir un homme\nivre pour compagnon de lit la premi\u00e8re nuit. Comment il s'y prit, je\nn'en sais rien, mais je fus persuad\u00e9e qu'il l'avait fait \u00e0 dessein, afin\nque son fr\u00e8re ne p\u00fbt avoir nulle notion de la diff\u00e9rence qu'il y a entre\nune pucelle et une femme mari\u00e9e; et, en effet, jamais il n'eut aucun\ndoute l\u00e0-dessus ou ne s'inqui\u00e9ta l'esprit \u00e0 tel sujet.\nIl faut qu'ici je revienne un peu en arri\u00e8re, \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 j'ai\ninterrompu. Le fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9 \u00e9tant venu \u00e0 bout de moi, son premier soin fut\nd'entreprendre sa m\u00e8re; et il ne cessa qu'il ne l'e\u00fbt amen\u00e9e \u00e0 se\nsoumettre, passive au point de n'informer le p\u00e8re qu'au moyen de lettres\n\u00e9crites par la poste; si bien qu'elle consentit \u00e0 notre mariage secret\net se chargea d'arranger l'affaire ensuite avec le p\u00e8re.\nPuis il cajola son fr\u00e8re, et lui persuada qu'il lui avait rendu un\ninestimable service, se vanta d'avoir obtenu le consentement de sa m\u00e8re,\nce qui \u00e9tait vrai, mais n'avait point \u00e9t\u00e9 fait pour le servir, mais pour\nse servir soi-m\u00eame; mais il le pipa ainsi avec diligence, et eut tout le\nrenom d'un ami fid\u00e8le pour s'\u00eatre d\u00e9barrass\u00e9 de sa ma\u00eetresse en la\nmettant dans les bras de son fr\u00e8re pour en faire sa femme. Si\nnaturellement les hommes renient l'honneur, la justice et jusqu'\u00e0 la\nreligion, pour obtenir de la s\u00e9curit\u00e9!\nIl me faut revenir maintenant au fr\u00e8re Robin, comme nous l'appelions\ntoujours, et qui, ayant obtenu le consentement de sa m\u00e8re, vint \u00e0 moi\ntout gonfl\u00e9 de la nouvelle, et m'en dit l'histoire avec une sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 si\nvisible que je dois avouer que je fus afflig\u00e9e de servir d'instrument \u00e0\nd\u00e9cevoir un si honn\u00eate gentilhomme; mais il n'y avait point de rem\u00e8de,\nil voulait me prendre, et je n'\u00e9tais pas oblig\u00e9e de lui dire que j'\u00e9tais\nla ma\u00eetresse de son fr\u00e8re, quoique je n'eusse eu d'autre moyen de\nl'\u00e9carter; de sorte que je m'accommodai peu \u00e0 peu, et voil\u00e0 que nous\nf\u00fbmes mari\u00e9s.\nLa pudeur s'oppose \u00e0 ce que je r\u00e9v\u00e8le les secrets du lit nuptial; mais\nrien ne pouvait \u00eatre si appropri\u00e9 \u00e0 ma situation que de trouver un mari\nqui e\u00fbt la t\u00eate si brouill\u00e9e en se mettant au lit, qu'il ne put se\nsouvenir le matin s'il avait eu commerce avec moi ou non; et je fus\noblig\u00e9e de le lui affirmer, quoiqu'il n'en fut rien, afin d'\u00eatre assur\u00e9e\nqu'il ne s'inqui\u00e9terait d'aucune chose.\nIl n'entre gu\u00e8re dans le dessein de cette histoire de vous instruire\nplus \u00e0 point sur cette famille et sur moi-m\u00eame, pendant les cinq ann\u00e9es\nque je v\u00e9cus avec ce mari, sinon de remarquer que de lui j'eus deux\nenfants, et qu'il mourut au bout des cinq ans; il avait vraiment \u00e9t\u00e9 un\ntr\u00e8s bon mari pour moi, et nous avions v\u00e9cu tr\u00e8s agr\u00e9ablement ensemble;\nmais comme il n'avait pas re\u00e7u grand'chose de sa famille, et que dans le\npeu de temps qu'il v\u00e9cut il n'avait pas acquis grand \u00e9tat, ma situation\nn'\u00e9tait pas belle, et ce mariage ne me profita gu\u00e8re. Il est vrai que\nj'avais conserv\u00e9 les billets du fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9 o\u00f9 il s'engageait \u00e0 me payer\n500\u00a3 pour mon consentement \u00e0 \u00e9pouser son fr\u00e8re; et ces papiers, joints \u00e0\nce que j'avais mis de c\u00f4t\u00e9 sur l'argent qu'il m'avait donn\u00e9 autrefois,\net environ autant qui me venait de mon mari, me laiss\u00e8rent veuve avec\npr\u00e8s de 1 200\u00a3 en poche.\nMes deux enfants me furent heureusement \u00f4t\u00e9s de dessus les bras par le\np\u00e8re et la m\u00e8re de mon mari; et c'est le plus clair de ce qu'ils eurent\nde Mme Betty.\nJ'avoue que je n'\u00e9prouvai pas le chagrin qu'il convenait de la mort de\nmon mari; et je ne puis dire que je l'aie jamais aim\u00e9 comme j'aurais d\u00fb\nle faire, ou que je r\u00e9pondis \u00e0 la tendresse qu'il montra pour moi; car\nc'\u00e9tait l'homme le plus d\u00e9licat, le plus doux et de meilleure humeur\nqu'une femme p\u00fbt souhaiter; mais son fr\u00e8re, qui \u00e9tait si continuellement\ndevant mes yeux, au moins pendant notre s\u00e9jour \u00e0 la campagne, \u00e9tait pour\nmoi un app\u00e2t \u00e9ternel; et jamais je ne fus au lit avec mon mari, que je\nne me d\u00e9sirasse dans les bras de son fr\u00e8re; et bien que le fr\u00e8re ne f\u00eet\njamais montre d'une affection de cette nature apr\u00e8s notre mariage, mais\nse conduis\u00eet justement \u00e0 la mani\u00e8re d'un fr\u00e8re, toutefois il me fut\nimpossible d'avoir les m\u00eames sentiments \u00e0 son \u00e9gard; en somme, il ne se\npassait pas de jour o\u00f9 je ne commisse avec lui adult\u00e8re et inceste dans\nmes d\u00e9sirs, qui, sans doute, \u00e9taient aussi criminels que des actes.\nAvant que mon mari mour\u00fbt, son fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9 se maria, et comme \u00e0 cette\n\u00e9poque nous avions quitt\u00e9 la ville pour habiter Londres, la vieille dame\nnous \u00e9crivit pour nous prier aux noces; mon mari y alla, mais je feignis\nd'\u00eatre indispos\u00e9e, et ainsi je pus rester \u00e0 la maison; car, en somme, je\nn'aurais pu supporter de le voir donn\u00e9 \u00e0 une autre femme, quoique\nsachant bien que jamais plus je ne l'aurais \u00e0 moi.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant, comme je l'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 jadis, laiss\u00e9e libre au monde,\net, \u00e9tant encore jeune et jolie, comme tout le monde me le disait (et je\nle pensais bien, je vous affirme), avec une suffisante fortune en poche,\nje ne m'estimais pas \u00e0 une m\u00e9diocre valeur; plusieurs marchands fort\nimportants me faisaient la cour, et surtout un marchand de toiles, qui\nse montrait tr\u00e8s ardent, et chez qui j'avais pris logement apr\u00e8s la mort\nde mon mari, sa soeur \u00e9tant de mes amies; l\u00e0, j'eus toute libert\u00e9 et\noccasion d'\u00eatre gaie et de para\u00eetre dans la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 que je pouvais\nd\u00e9sirer, n'y ayant chose en vie plus folle et plus gaie que la soeur de\nmon h\u00f4te, et non tant ma\u00eetresse de sa vertu que je le pensais d'abord;\nelle me fit entrer dans un monde de soci\u00e9t\u00e9 extravagante, et m\u00eame emmena\nchez elle diff\u00e9rentes personnes, \u00e0 qui il ne lui d\u00e9plaisait pas de se\nmontrer obligeante, pour voir sa jolie veuve. Or, ainsi que la renomm\u00e9e\net les sots composent une assembl\u00e9e, je fus ici merveilleusement adul\u00e9e;\nj'eus abondance d'admirateurs, et de ceux qui se nomment amants; mais\ndans l'ensemble je ne re\u00e7us pas une honn\u00eate proposition; quant au\ndessein qu'ils entretenaient tous, je l'entendais trop bien pour me\nlaisser attirer dans des pi\u00e8ges de ce genre. Le cas \u00e9tait chang\u00e9 pour\nmoi. J'avais de l'argent dans ma poche, et n'avais rien \u00e0 leur dire.\nJ'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 prise une fois \u00e0 cette piperie nomm\u00e9e amour, mais le jeu\n\u00e9tait fini; j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solue maintenant \u00e0 ce qu'on m'\u00e9pous\u00e2t, sinon rien,\net \u00e0 \u00eatre bien mari\u00e9e ou point du tout.\nJ'aimais, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 d'hommes enjou\u00e9s et de gens d'esprit, et\nje me laissais souvent divertir par eux, de m\u00eame que je m'entretenais\navec les autres; mais je trouvai, par juste observation, que les hommes\nles plus brillants apportaient le message le plus terne, je veux dire le\nplus terne pour ce que je visais; et, d'autre part, ceux qui venaient\navec les plus brillantes propositions \u00e9taient des plus ternes et\nd\u00e9plaisants qui fussent au monde.\nJe n'\u00e9tais point si r\u00e9pugnante \u00e0 un marchand, mais alors je voulais\navoir un marchand, par ma foi, qui e\u00fbt du gentilhomme, et que lorsqu'il\nprendrait l'envie \u00e0 mon mari de me mener \u00e0 la cour ou au th\u00e9\u00e2tre, il s\u00fbt\nporter l'\u00e9p\u00e9e, et prendre son air de gentilhomme tout comme un autre, et\nnon pas sembler d'un croquant qui garde \u00e0 son justaucorps la marque des\ncordons de tablier ou la marque de son chapeau \u00e0 la perruque, portant\nson m\u00e9tier au visage, comme si on l'e\u00fbt pendu \u00e0 son \u00e9p\u00e9e, au lieu de la\nlui attacher.\nEh bien, je trouvai enfin cette cr\u00e9ature amphibie, cette chose de terre\net d'eau qu'on nomme gentilhomme marchand; et comme juste punition de ma\nfolie, je fus prise au pi\u00e8ge que je m'\u00e9tais pour ainsi dire tendu.\nC'\u00e9tait aussi un drapier, car bien que ma camarade m'e\u00fbt volontiers\nentreprise \u00e0 propos de son fr\u00e8re, il se trouva, quand nous en v\u00eenmes au\npoint, que c'\u00e9tait pour lui servir de ma\u00eetresse, et je restais fid\u00e8le \u00e0\ncette r\u00e8gle qu'une femme ne doit jamais se laisser entretenir comme\nma\u00eetresse, si elle a assez d'argent pour se faire \u00e9pouser.\nAinsi ma vanit\u00e9, non mes principes, mon argent, non ma vertu, me\nmaintenaient dans l'honn\u00eatet\u00e9, quoique l'issue montra que j'eusse bien\nmieux fait de me laisser vendre par ma camarade \u00e0 son fr\u00e8re que de\nm'\u00eatre vendue \u00e0 un marchand qui \u00e9tait b\u00e9l\u00eetre, gentilhomme, boutiquier\net mendiant tout ensemble.\nMais je fus pr\u00e9cipit\u00e9e par le caprice que j'avais d'\u00e9pouser un\ngentilhomme \u00e0 me ruiner de la mani\u00e8re la plus grossi\u00e8re que femme au\nmonde; car mon nouveau mari, d\u00e9couvrant d'un coup une masse d'argent,\ntomba dans des d\u00e9penses si extravagantes, que tout ce que j'avais, joint\n\u00e0 ce qu'il avait, n'y e\u00fbt point tenu plus d'un an.\nIl eut infiniment de go\u00fbt pour moi pendant environ le quart d'une ann\u00e9e,\net le profit que j'en tirai fut d'avoir le plaisir de voir d\u00e9penser pour\nmoi une bonne partie de mon argent.\n--Allons, mon coeur, me dit-il une fois, voulez-vous venir faire un tour\n\u00e0 la campagne pendant huit jours?\n--Eh, mon ami, dis-je, o\u00f9 donc voulez-vous aller?\n--Peu m'importe o\u00f9, dit-il, mais j'ai l'envie de me pousser de la\nqualit\u00e9 pendant une semaine; nous irons \u00e0 Oxford, dit-il.\n--Et comment irons-nous? dis-je; je ne sais point monter \u00e0 cheval, et\nc'est trop loin pour un carrosse.\n--Trop loin! dit-il--nul endroit n'est trop loin pour un carrosse \u00e0 six\nchevaux. Si je vous emm\u00e8ne, je veux que vous voyagiez en duchesse.\n--Hum! dis-je, mon ami, c'est une folie; mais puisque vous en avez\nl'envie, je ne dis plus rien.\nEh bien, le jour fut fix\u00e9; nous e\u00fbmes un riche carrosse, d'excellents\nchevaux, cocher, postillon, et deux laquais en tr\u00e8s belles livr\u00e9es, un\ngentilhomme \u00e0 cheval, et un page, avec une plume au chapeau, sur un\nautre cheval; tout le domestique lui donnait du Monseigneur, et moi,\nj'\u00e9tais Sa Grandeur la Comtesse; et ainsi nous f\u00eemes le voyage d'Oxford,\net ce fut une excursion charmante; car pour lui rendre son d\u00fb, il n'y\navait pas de mendiant au monde qui s\u00fbt mieux que mon mari trancher du\nseigneur. Nous visit\u00e2mes toutes les curiosit\u00e9s d'Oxford et nous parl\u00e2mes\n\u00e0 deux ou trois ma\u00eetres des coll\u00e8ges de l'intention o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions\nd'envoyer \u00e0 l'Universit\u00e9 un neveu qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 laiss\u00e9 aux soins de Sa\nSeigneurie, en leur assurant qu'ils seraient d\u00e9sign\u00e9s comme tuteurs;\nnous nous divert\u00eemes \u00e0 berner divers pauvres \u00e9coliers de l'espoir de\ndevenir pour le moins chapelains de Sa Seigneurie et de porter\nl'\u00e9chappe; et ayant ainsi v\u00e9cu en qualit\u00e9 pour ce qui \u00e9tait au moins de\nla d\u00e9pense, nous nous dirige\u00e2mes vers Northampton, et en somme nous\nrentr\u00e2mes au bout de douze jours, la chanson nous ayant co\u00fbt\u00e9 93\u00a3.\nLa vanit\u00e9 est la plus parfaite qualit\u00e9 d'un fat; mon mari avait cette\nexcellence de n'attacher aucune valeur \u00e0 l'argent. Comme son histoire,\nainsi que vous pouvez bien penser, est de tr\u00e8s petit poids, il suffira\nde vous dire qu'au bout de deux ans et quart il fit banqueroute, fut\nenvoy\u00e9 dans une maison de sergent, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 arr\u00eat\u00e9 sur un proc\u00e8s trop\ngros pour qu'il p\u00fbt donner caution; de sorte qu'il m'envoya chercher\npour venir le voir.\nCe ne fut pas une surprise pour moi, car j'avais pr\u00e9vu depuis quelque\ntemps que tout s'en irait \u00e0 vau-l'eau, et j'avais pris garde de mettre\nen r\u00e9serve, autant que possible, quelque chose pour moi; mais lorsqu'il\nme fit demander, il se conduisit bien mieux que je n'esp\u00e9rais, me dit\ntout net qu'il avait agi en sot et s'\u00e9tait laiss\u00e9 prendre o\u00f9 il e\u00fbt pu\nfaire r\u00e9sistance; qu'il pr\u00e9voyait maintenant qu'il ne pourrait plus\nparvenir \u00e0 rien; que par ainsi il me priait de rentrer et d'emporter\ndans la nuit tout ce que j'avais de valeurs dans la maison, pour le\nmettre en s\u00fbret\u00e9; et ensuite il me dit que si je pouvais emporter du\nmagasin 100 ou 200\u00a3 de marchandises, je devais le faire.\n--Seulement, dit-il, ne m'en faites rien savoir; ne me dites pas ce que\nvous prenez, o\u00f9 vous l'emportez; car pour moi, dit-il, je suis r\u00e9solu \u00e0\nme tirer de cette maison et \u00e0 m'en aller; et si vous n'entendez jamais\nplus parler de moi, mon amour, je vous souhaite du bonheur; Je suis\nf\u00e2ch\u00e9 du tort que je vous ai fait.\nIl ajouta quelques choses tr\u00e8s gracieuses pour moi, comme je m'en\nallais; car je vous ai dit que c'\u00e9tait un gentilhomme, et ce fut tout le\nb\u00e9n\u00e9fice que j'en eus, en ce qu'il me traita fort galamment, jusqu'\u00e0 la\nfin, sinon qu'il d\u00e9pensa tout ce que j'avais et me laissa le soin de\nd\u00e9rober \u00e0 ses cr\u00e9anciers de quoi manger.\nN\u00e9anmoins je fis ce qu'il m'avait dit, comme bien vous pouvez penser;\net ayant ainsi pris cong\u00e9 de lui, je ne le revis plus jamais; car il\ntrouva moyen de s'\u00e9vader hors de la maison du baillif cette nuit ou la\nsuivante; comment, je ne le sus point, car je ne parvins \u00e0 apprendre\nautre chose, sinon qu'il rentra chez lui \u00e0 environ trois heures du\nmatin, fit transporter le reste de ses marchandises \u00e0 la Monnaie, et\nfermer la boutique; et, ayant lev\u00e9 l'argent qu'il put, il passa en\nFrance, d'o\u00f9 je re\u00e7us deux ou trois lettres de lui, point davantage. Je\nne le vis pas quand il rentra, car m'ayant donn\u00e9 les instructions que\nj'ai dites, et moi ayant employ\u00e9 mon temps de mon mieux, je n'avais\npoint d'affaire de retourner \u00e0 la maison, ne sachant si je n'y serais\narr\u00eat\u00e9e par les cr\u00e9anciers; car une commission de banqueroute ayant \u00e9t\u00e9\n\u00e9tablie peu \u00e0 apr\u00e8s, on aurait pu m'arr\u00eater par ordre des commissaires.\nMais mon mari s'\u00e9tant d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9ment \u00e9chapp\u00e9 de chez le baillif, en se\nlaissant tomber presque du haut de la maison sur le haut d'un autre\nb\u00e2timent d'o\u00f9 il avait saut\u00e9 et qui avait presque deux \u00e9tages, en quoi\nil manqua de bien peu se casser le cou, il rentra et emmena ses\nmarchandises avant que les cr\u00e9anciers pussent venir saisir,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire, avant qu'ils eussent obtenu la commission \u00e0 temps pour\nenvoyer les officiers prendre possession.\nMon mari fut si honn\u00eate envers moi, car je r\u00e9p\u00e8te encore qu'il tenait\nbeaucoup du gentilhomme, que dans la premi\u00e8re lettre qu'il m'\u00e9crivit, il\nme fit savoir o\u00f9 il avait engag\u00e9 vingt pi\u00e8ces de fine Hollande pour 30\u00a3\nqui valaient plus de 90\u00a3 et joignit la reconnaissance pour aller les\nreprendre en payant l'argent, ce que je fis; et en bon temps j'en tirai\nplus de 100\u00a3, ayant eu loisir pour les d\u00e9tailler et les vendre \u00e0 des\nfamilles priv\u00e9es, selon l'occasion.\nN\u00e9anmoins, ceci compris et ce que j'avais mis en r\u00e9serve auparavant, je\ntrouvai, tout compte fait, que mon cas \u00e9tait bien chang\u00e9 et ma fortune\nextr\u00eamement diminu\u00e9e; car avec la toile de Hollande et un paquet de\nmousselines fines que j'avais emport\u00e9 auparavant, quelque argenterie et\nd'autres choses, je me trouvai pouvoir \u00e0 peine disposer de 500\u00a3, et ma\ncondition \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s singuli\u00e8re, car bien que je n'eusse pas d'enfant\n(j'en avais eu un de mon gentilhomme drapier, mais il \u00e9tait enterr\u00e9),\ncependant j'\u00e9tais une veuve f\u00e9e, j'avais un mari, et point de mari, et\nje ne pouvais pr\u00e9tendre me remarier, quoique sachant assez que mon mari\nne reverrait jamais l'Angleterre, d\u00fbt-il vivre cinquante ans. Ainsi,\ndis-je, j'\u00e9tais enclose de mariage, quelle que f\u00fbt l'offre qu'on me fit;\net je n'avais point d'ami pour me conseiller, dans la condition o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais, du moins \u00e0 qui je pusse confier le secret de mes affaires; car\nsi les commissaires eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 inform\u00e9s de l'endroit o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, ils\nm'eussent fait saisir et emporter tout ce que j'avais mis de c\u00f4t\u00e9.\nDans ces appr\u00e9hensions, la premi\u00e8re chose que je fis fut de dispara\u00eetre\nenti\u00e8rement du cercle de mes connaissances et de prendre un autre nom.\nJe le fis effectivement, et me rendis \u00e9galement \u00e0 la Monnaie, o\u00f9 je pris\nlogement en un endroit tr\u00e8s secret, m'habillai de v\u00eatements de veuve, et\npris le nom de Mme Flanders.\nJ'y fis la connaissance d'une bonne et modeste sorte de femme, qui \u00e9tait\nveuve aussi, comme moi, mais en meilleure condition; son mari avait \u00e9t\u00e9\ncapitaine de vaisseau, et ayant eu le malheur de subir un naufrage \u00e0 son\nretour des Indes occidentales, fut si afflig\u00e9 de sa perte, que bien\nqu'il e\u00fbt la vie sauve, son coeur se brisa et il mourut de douleur; sa\nveuve, \u00e9tant poursuivie par les cr\u00e9anciers, fut forc\u00e9e de chercher abri\n\u00e0 la Monnaie. Elle eut bient\u00f4t r\u00e9par\u00e9 ses affaires avec l'aide de ses\namis, et reprit sa libert\u00e9; et trouvant que j'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 plut\u00f4t afin de\nvivre cach\u00e9e que pour \u00e9chapper \u00e0 des poursuites, elle m'invita \u00e0 rentrer\navec elle dans sa maison jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'eusse quelque vue pour\nm'\u00e9tablir dans le monde \u00e0 ma volont\u00e9; d'ailleurs me disant qu'il y avait\ndix chances contre une pour que quelque bon capitaine de vaisseau se\npr\u00eet de caprice pour moi et me f\u00eet la cour en la partie de la ville o\u00f9\nelle habitait.\nJ'acceptai son offre et je restai avec elle la moiti\u00e9 d'une ann\u00e9e; j'y\nserais rest\u00e9e plus longtemps si dans l'intervalle ce qu'elle me\nproposait ne lui \u00e9tait survenu, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'elle se maria, et fort \u00e0\nson avantage. Mais si d'autres fortunes \u00e9taient en croissance, la mienne\nsemblait d\u00e9cliner, et je ne trouvais rien sinon deux ou trois bossemans\net gens de cette esp\u00e8ce. Pour les commandants, ils \u00e9taient d'ordinaire\nde deux cat\u00e9gories: 1\u00b0 tels qui, \u00e9tant en bonnes affaires, c'est-\u00e0-dire,\nayant un bon vaisseau, ne se d\u00e9cidaient qu'\u00e0 un mariage avantageux; 2\u00b0\ntels qui, \u00e9tant hors d'emploi, cherchaient une femme pour obtenir un\nvaisseau, je veux dire: 1\u00b0 une femme qui, ayant de l'argent, leur permit\nd'acheter et tenir bonne part d'un vaisseau, pour encourager les\npartenaires, ou 2\u00b0 une femme qui, si elle n'avait pas d'argent, avait du\nmoins des amis qui s'occupaient de navigation et pouvait aider ainsi \u00e0\nplacer un jeune homme dans un bon vaisseau. Mais je n'\u00e9tais dans aucun\ndes deux cas et j'avais l'apparence de devoir rester longtemps en panne.\nMa situation n'\u00e9tait pas de m\u00e9diocre d\u00e9licatesse. La condition o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais faisait que l'offre d'un bon mari m'\u00e9tait la chose la plus\nn\u00e9cessaire du monde; mais je vis bient\u00f4t que la bonne mani\u00e8re n'\u00e9tait\npas de se prodiguer trop facilement; on d\u00e9couvrit bient\u00f4t que la veuve\nn'avait pas de fortune, et ceci dit, on avait dit de moi tout le mal\npossible, bien que je fusse parfaitement \u00e9lev\u00e9e, bien faite,\nspirituelle, r\u00e9serv\u00e9e et agr\u00e9able, toutes qualit\u00e9s dont je m'\u00e9tais\npar\u00e9e, \u00e0 bon droit ou non, ce n'est point l'affaire; mais je dis que\ntout cela n'\u00e9tait de rien sans le billon. Pour parler tout net, la\nveuve, disait-on, n'avait point d'argent!\nJe r\u00e9solus donc qu'il \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire de changer de condition, et de\npara\u00eetre diff\u00e9remment en quelque autre lieu, et m\u00eame de passer sous un\nautre nom, si j'en trouvais l'occasion.\nJe communiquai mes r\u00e9flexions \u00e0 mon intime amie qui avait \u00e9pous\u00e9 un\ncapitaine, je ne fis point de scrupule de lui exposer ma condition toute\nnue; mes fonds \u00e9taient bas, car je n'avais gu\u00e8re tir\u00e9 que 540\u00a3 de la\ncl\u00f4ture de ma derni\u00e8re affaire, et j'avais d\u00e9pens\u00e9 un peu l\u00e0-dessus;\nn\u00e9anmoins il me restait environ 400\u00a3, un grand nombre de robes tr\u00e8s\nriches, une montre en or et quelques bijoux, quoique point\nd'extraordinaire valeur, enfin pr\u00e8s de 30 ou 40\u00a3 de toiles dont je\nn'avais point dispos\u00e9.\nMa ch\u00e8re et fid\u00e8le amie, la femme du capitaine, m'\u00e9tait fermement\nattach\u00e9e, et sachant ma condition, elle me fit fr\u00e9quemment des cadeaux\nselon que de l'argent lui venait dans les mains, et tels qu'ils\nrepr\u00e9sentaient un entretien complet; si bien que je ne d\u00e9pensai pas de\nmon argent. Enfin elle me mit un projet dans la t\u00eate et me dit que si je\nvoulais me laisser gouverner par elle, j'obtiendrais certainement un\nmari riche sans lui laisser lieu de me reprocher mon manque de fortune;\nje lui dis que je m'abandonnais enti\u00e8rement \u00e0 sa direction, et que je\nn'aurais ni langue pour parler, ni pieds pour marcher en cette affaire,\nqu'elle ne m'e\u00fbt instruite, persuad\u00e9e que j'\u00e9tais qu'elle me tirerait de\ntoute difficult\u00e9 o\u00f9 elle m'entra\u00eenerait, ce qu'elle promit.\nLe premier pas qu'elle me fit faire fut de lui donner le nom de cousine\net d'aller dans la maison d'une de ses parentes \u00e0 la campagne, qu'elle\nm'indiqua, et o\u00f9 elle amena son mari pour me rendre visite, o\u00f9,\nm'appelant \u00absa ch\u00e8re cousine\u00bb, elle arrangea les choses de telle sorte\nqu'elle et son mari tout ensemble m'invit\u00e8rent tr\u00e8s passionn\u00e9ment \u00e0\nvenir en ville demeurer avec eux, car ils vivaient maintenant en un\nautre endroit qu'auparavant. En second lieu elle dit \u00e0 son mari que\nj'avais au moins 1 500\u00a3 de fortune et que j'\u00e9tais assur\u00e9e d'en avoir\nbien davantage.\nIl suffisait d'en dire autant \u00e0 son mari; je n'avais point \u00e0 agir sur ma\npart, mais \u00e0 me tenir coite, et attendre l'\u00e9v\u00e9nement, car soudain le\nbruit courut dans tout le voisinage que la jeune veuve chez le capitaine\n\u00e9tait une fortune, qu'elle avait au moins 1 500\u00a3 et peut-\u00eatre bien\ndavantage, et que c'\u00e9tait le capitaine qui le disait; et si on\ninterrogeait aucunement le capitaine \u00e0 mon sujet, il ne se faisait point\nscrupule de l'affirmer quoiqu'il ne s\u00fbt pas un mot de plus sur l'affaire\nque sa femme ne lui avait dit; en quoi il n'entendait malice aucune, car\nil croyait r\u00e9ellement qu'il en \u00e9tait ainsi. Avec cette r\u00e9putation de\nfortune, je me trouvai bient\u00f4t combl\u00e9e d'assez d'admirateurs o\u00f9 j'avais\nmon choix d'hommes; et moi, ayant \u00e0 jouer un jeu subtil, il ne me\nrestait plus rien \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 trier parmi eux tous le plus propre \u00e0 mon\ndessein; c'est-\u00e0-dire l'homme qui semblerait le plus dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 s'en\ntenir au ou\u00ef-dire sur ma fortune et \u00e0 ne pas s'enqu\u00e9rir trop avant des\nd\u00e9tails: sinon je ne parvenais \u00e0 rien, car ma condition n'admettait\nnulle investigation trop stricte.\nJe marquai mon homme sans grande difficult\u00e9 par le jugement que je fis\nde sa fa\u00e7on de me courtiser; je l'avais laiss\u00e9 s'enfoncer dans ses\nprotestations qu'il m'aimait le mieux du monde, et que si je voulais le\nrendre heureux, il serait satisfait de tout; choses qui, je le savais,\n\u00e9taient fond\u00e9es sur la supposition que j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s riche, quoique je\nn'en eusse souffl\u00e9 mot.\nCeci \u00e9tait mon homme, mais il fallait le sonder \u00e0 fond; c'est l\u00e0\nqu'\u00e9tait mon salut, car s'il me faisait faux bond, je savais que j'\u00e9tais\nperdue aussi s\u00fbrement qu'il \u00e9tait perdu s'il me prenait; et si je\nn'\u00e9levais quelque scrupule sur sa fortune, il risquait d'en \u00e9lever sur\nla mienne; si bien que d'abord je feignis \u00e0 toutes occasions de douter\nde sa sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 et lui dis que peut-\u00eatre il ne me courtisait que pour ma\nfortune, il me ferma la bouche l\u00e0-dessus avec la temp\u00eate des\nprotestations que j'ai dites mais je feignais de douter encore.\nUn matin, il \u00f4te un diamant de son doigt, et \u00e9crit ces mots sur le verre\ndu ch\u00e2ssis de ma chambre:\n          _C'est vous que j'aime et rien que vous._\nJe lus, et le priai de me pr\u00eater la bague, avec laquelle j'\u00e9crivis\nau-dessous:\n          _En amour vous le dites tous._\nIl reprend sa bague et \u00e9crit de nouveau:\n          _La vertu seule est une dot._\nJe la lui redemandai et j'\u00e9crivis au-dessous:\n          _L'argent fait la vertu plut\u00f4t._\nIl devint rouge comme le feu, de se sentir piqu\u00e9 si juste, et avec une\nsorte de fureur, il jura de me vaincre et \u00e9crivit encore:\n          _J'ai m\u00e9pris pour l'or, et vous aime._\nJ'aventurai tout sur mon dernier coup de d\u00e9s en po\u00e9sie, comme vous\nverrez, car j'\u00e9crivis hardiment sous son vers:\n          _Je suis pauvre et n'ai que moi-m\u00eame._\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une triste v\u00e9rit\u00e9 pour moi; Je ne puis dire s'il me crut ou\nnon; je supposais alors qu'il ne me croyait point. Quoi qu'il en f\u00fbt, il\nvola vers moi, me prit dans ses bras et me baisant ardemment et avec une\npassion inimaginable, il me tint serr\u00e9e, tandis qu'il demandait plume et\nencre, m'affirmant qu'il ne pouvait plus avoir la patience d'\u00e9crire\nlaborieusement sur cette vitre; puis tirant un morceau de papier, il\n\u00e9crivit encore:\n          _Soyez mienne en tout d\u00e9nuement._\nJe pris sa plume et r\u00e9pondis sur-le-champ:\n          _Au for, vous pensez: Elle ment._\nIl me dit que c'\u00e9taient l\u00e0 des paroles cruelles, parce qu'elles\nn'\u00e9taient pas justes, et que je l'obligeais \u00e0 me d\u00e9mentir, ce qui\ns'accordait mal avec la politesse, et que puisque je l'avais\ninsensiblement engag\u00e9 dans ce badinage po\u00e9tique, il me suppliait de ne\npas le contraindre \u00e0 l'interrompre; si bien qu'il \u00e9crivit:\n          _Que d'amour seul soient nos d\u00e9bats!_\nJ'\u00e9crivis au-dessous:\n          _Elle aime assez, qui ne hait pas._\nIl consid\u00e9ra ce vers comme une faveur, et mit bas les armes,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire la plume; je dis qu'il le consid\u00e9ra comme une faveur, et\nc'en \u00e9tait une bien grande, s'il avait tout su; pourtant il le prit\ncomme je l'entendais, c'est-\u00e0-dire que j'\u00e9tais encline \u00e0 continuer notre\nfleuretage, comme en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 j'avais bonne raison de l'\u00eatre, car c'\u00e9tait\nl'homme de meilleure humeur et la plus gaie, que j'aie jamais rencontr\u00e9,\net je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais souvent qu'il \u00e9tait doublement criminel de d\u00e9cevoir\nun homme qui semblait sinc\u00e8re; mais la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 qui me pressait \u00e0 un\n\u00e9tablissement qui convint \u00e0 ma condition m'y obligeait par autorit\u00e9; et\ncertainement son affection pour moi et la douceur de son humeur, quelque\nhaut qu'elles parlassent contre le mauvais usage que j'en voulais faire,\nme persuadaient fortement qu'il subirait son d\u00e9sappointement avec plus\nde mansu\u00e9tude que quelque forcen\u00e9 tout en feu qui n'e\u00fbt eu pour le\nrecommander que les passions qui servent \u00e0 rendre une femme malheureuse.\nD'ailleurs, bien que j'eusse si souvent plaisant\u00e9 avec lui (comme il le\nsupposait) au sujet de ma pauvret\u00e9, cependant quand il d\u00e9couvrit qu'elle\n\u00e9tait v\u00e9ritable, il s'\u00e9tait ferm\u00e9 la route des objections, regardant\nque, soit qu'il e\u00fbt plaisant\u00e9, soit qu'il e\u00fbt parl\u00e9 s\u00e9rieusement, il\navait d\u00e9clar\u00e9 qu'il me prenait sans se soucier de ma dot et que, soit\nque j'eusse plaisant\u00e9, soit que j'eusse parl\u00e9 s\u00e9rieusement, j'avais\nd\u00e9clar\u00e9 que j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s pauvre, de sorte qu'en un mot, je le tenais des\ndeux c\u00f4t\u00e9s; et quoiqu'il p\u00fbt dire ensuite qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9\u00e7u il ne\npourrait jamais dire que c'\u00e9tait moi qui l'avais d\u00e9\u00e7u.\nIl me poursuivit de pr\u00e8s ensuite, et comme je vis qu'il n'y avait point\nbesoin de craindre de le perdre, je jouai le r\u00f4le d'indiff\u00e9rente plus\nlongtemps que la prudence ne m'e\u00fbt autrement dict\u00e9; mais je consid\u00e9rai\ncombien cette r\u00e9serve et cette indiff\u00e9rence me donneraient d'avantage\nsur lui lorsque j'en viendrais \u00e0 lui avouer ma condition, et j'en usai\navec d'autant plus de prudence, que je trouvai qu'il concluait de l\u00e0 ou\nque j'avais plus d'argent, ou que j'avais plus de jugement, ou que je\nn'\u00e9tais point d'humeur aventureuse.\nJe pris un jour la libert\u00e9 de lui dire qu'il \u00e9tait vrai que j'avais re\u00e7u\nde lui une galanterie d'amant, puisqu'il me prenait sans nulle enqu\u00eate\nsur ma fortune, et que je lui retournai le compliment en m'inqui\u00e9tant de\nla sienne plus que de raison, mais que j'esp\u00e9rais qu'il me permettrait\nquelques questions auxquelles il r\u00e9pondrait ou non suivant ses\nconvenances; l'une de ces questions se rapportait \u00e0 la mani\u00e8re dont nous\nvivrions et au lieu que nous habiterions, parce que j'avais entendu dire\nqu'il poss\u00e9dait une grande plantation en Virginie, et je lui dis que je\nne me souciais gu\u00e8re d'\u00eatre d\u00e9port\u00e9e.\nIl commen\u00e7a d\u00e8s ce discours \u00e0 m'ouvrir bien volontiers toutes ses\naffaires et \u00e0 me dire de mani\u00e8re franche et ouverte toute sa condition,\npar o\u00f9 je connus qu'il pouvait faire bonne figure dans le monde, mais\nqu'une grande partie de ses biens se composait de trois plantations\nqu'il avait en Virginie, qui lui rapporteraient un fort bon revenu\nd'environ 300\u00a3 par an, mais qui, s'il les exploitait lui-m\u00eame, lui en\nrapportaient quatre fois plus, \u00abTr\u00e8s bien, me dis-je, alors tu\nm'emm\u00e8neras l\u00e0-bas aussit\u00f4t qu'il te plaira mais je me garderai bien de\nte le dire d'avance.\u00bb\nJe le plaisantai sur la figure qu'il ferait en Virginie, mais je le\ntrouvai pr\u00eat \u00e0 faire tout ce que je d\u00e9sirerais, de sorte que je changeai\nde chanson; je lui dis que j'avais de fortes raisons de ne point d\u00e9sirer\naller vivre l\u00e0-bas, parce que, si ses plantations y valaient autant\nqu'il disait, je n'avais pas une fortune qui p\u00fbt s'accorder \u00e0 un\ngentilhomme ayant 1 200\u00a3 de revenu comme il me disait que serait son\n\u00e9tat.\nIl me r\u00e9pondit qu'il ne me demandait pas quelle \u00e9tait ma fortune; qu'il\nm'avait dit d'abord qu'il n'en ferait rien, et qu'il tiendrait sa\nparole; mais que, quelle qu'elle f\u00fbt, il ne me demanderait jamais\nd'aller en Virginie avec lui, ou qu'il n'y irait sans moi, \u00e0 moins que\nje m'y d\u00e9cidasse librement.\nTout cela, comme vous pouvez bien penser, \u00e9tait justement conforme \u00e0\nmes souhaits, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 rien n'e\u00fbt pu survenir de plus parfaitement\nagr\u00e9able; je continuai jusque-l\u00e0 \u00e0 jouer cette sorte d'indiff\u00e9rence dont\nil s'\u00e9tonnait souvent; et si j'avais avou\u00e9 sinc\u00e8rement que ma grande\nfortune ne s'\u00e9levait pas en tout \u00e0 400\u00a3 quand il en attendait 1 500\u00a3,\npourtant je suis persuad\u00e9e que je l'avais si fermement agripp\u00e9 et si\nlongtemps tenu en haleine, qu'il m'aurait prise sous les pires\nconditions; et il est hors de doute que la surprise fut moins grande\npour lui quand il apprit la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 qu'elle n'eut \u00e9t\u00e9 autrement; car\nn'ayant pas le moindre bl\u00e2me \u00e0 jeter sur moi, qui avais gard\u00e9 un air\nd'indiff\u00e9rence jusqu'au bout, il ne put dire une parole, sinon qu'en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 il pensait qu'il y en aurait eu davantage; mais que quand m\u00eame il\ny en e\u00fbt moins, il ne se repentait pas de son affaire, seulement qu'il\nn'aurait pas le moyen de m'entretenir aussi bien qu'il l'e\u00fbt d\u00e9sir\u00e9.\nBref, nous f\u00fbmes mari\u00e9s, et moi, pour ma part, tr\u00e8s bien mari\u00e9e, car\nc'\u00e9tait l'homme de meilleure humeur qu'une femme ait eu, mais sa\ncondition n'\u00e9tait pas si bonne que je le supposais, ainsi que d'autre\npart il ne l'avait pas am\u00e9lior\u00e9e autant qu'il l'esp\u00e9rait.\nQuand nous f\u00fbmes mari\u00e9s, je fus subtilement pouss\u00e9e \u00e0 lui apporter le\npetit fonds que j'avais et \u00e0 lui faire voir qu'il n'y en avait point\ndavantage; mais ce fut une n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, de sorte que je choisis\nl'occasion, un jour que nous \u00e9tions seuls, pour lui en parler\nbri\u00e8vement:\n--Mon ami, lui dis-je, voil\u00e0 quinze jours que nous sommes mari\u00e9s,\nn'est-il pas temps que vous sachiez si vous avez \u00e9pous\u00e9 une femme qui a\nquelque chose ou qui n'a rien.\n--Ce sera au moment que vous voudrez, mon coeur, dit-il; pour moi, mon\nd\u00e9sir est satisfait, puisque j'ai la femme que j'aime; je ne vous ai pas\nbeaucoup tourment\u00e9e, dit-il, par mes questions l\u00e0-dessus.\n--C'est vrai, dis-je, mais je trouve une grande difficult\u00e9 dont je puis\n\u00e0 peine me tirer.\n--Et laquelle, mon coeur? dit-il.\n--Eh bien, dis-je, voil\u00e0; c'est un peu dur pour moi, et c'est plus dur\npour vous: on m'a rapport\u00e9 que le capitaine X... (le mari de mon amie)\nvous a dit que j'\u00e9tais bien plus riche que je n'ai jamais pr\u00e9tendu\nl'\u00eatre, et je vous assure bien qu'il n'a pas ainsi parl\u00e9 \u00e0 ma requ\u00eate.\n--Bon, dit-il, il est possible, que le capitaine X... m'en ait parl\u00e9,\nmais quoi? Si vous n'avez pas autant qu'il m'a dit, que la faute en\nretombe sur lui; mais vous ne m'avez jamais dit ce que vous aviez, de\nsorte que je n'aurais pas de raison de vous bl\u00e2mer, quand bien m\u00eame vous\nn'auriez rien du tout.\n--Voil\u00e0 qui est si juste, dis-je, et si g\u00e9n\u00e9reux, que je suis doublement\nafflig\u00e9e d'avoir si peu de chose.\n--Moins vous avez, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, pire pour nous deux; mais j'esp\u00e8re\nque vous ne vous affligez point de crainte que je perde ma tendresse\npour vous, parce que vous n'avez pas de dot; non, non, si vous n'avez\nrien, dites-le moi tout net; je pourrai peut-\u00eatre dire au capitaine\nqu'il m'a dup\u00e9, mais jamais je ne pourrai vous accuser, car ne\nm'avez-vous pas fait entendre que vous \u00e9tiez pauvre? et c'est l\u00e0 ce que\nj'aurais d\u00fb pr\u00e9voir.\n--Eh bien, dis-je, mon ami, je suis bien heureuse de n'avoir pas \u00e9t\u00e9\nm\u00eal\u00e9e dans cette tromperie avant le mariage; si d\u00e9sormais je vous\ntrompe, ce ne sera point pour le pire; je suis pauvre, il est vrai, mais\npoint pauvre \u00e0 ne poss\u00e9der rien.\nEt l\u00e0, je tirai quelques billets de banque et lui donnai environ 160\u00a3.\n--Voil\u00e0 quoique chose, mon ami, dis-je, et ce n'est peut-\u00eatre pas tout.\nJe l'avais amen\u00e9 si pr\u00e8s de n'attendre rien, par ce que j'avais dit\nauparavant, que l'argent, bien que la somme f\u00fbt petite en elle-m\u00eame,\nparut doublement bienvenue. Il avoua que c'\u00e9tait plus qu'il n'esp\u00e9rait,\net qu'il n'avait point dout\u00e9, par le discours que je lui avais tenu, que\nmes beaux habits, ma montre d'or et un ou deux anneaux \u00e0 diamants\nfaisaient toute ma fortune.\nJe le laissai se r\u00e9jouir des 160\u00a3 pendant deux ou trois jours, et puis,\n\u00e9tant sortie ce jour-l\u00e0, comme si je fusse all\u00e9e les chercher, je lui\nrapportai \u00e0 la maison encore 100\u00a3 en or, en lui disant: \u00abVoil\u00e0 encore un\npeu plus de dot pour vous,\u00bb et, en somme, au bout de la semaine je lui\napportai 180\u00a3 de plus et environ 60\u00a3 de toiles, que je feignis d'avoir\n\u00e9t\u00e9 forc\u00e9e de prendre avec les 100\u00a3 en or que je lui avais donn\u00e9es en\nconcordat d'une dette de 600\u00a3 dont je n'aurais tir\u00e9 gu\u00e8re plus de cinq\nshillings pour la livre, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 encore la mieux partag\u00e9e.\n--Et maintenant, mon ami, lui dis-je, je suis bien f\u00e2ch\u00e9e de vous avouer\nque je vous ai donn\u00e9 toute ma fortune.\nJ'ajoutai que si la personne qui avait mes 600\u00a3 ne m'e\u00fbt pas jou\u00e9e, j'en\neusse facilement valu mille pour lui, mais que, la chose \u00e9tant ainsi,\nj'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 sinc\u00e8re et ne m'\u00e9tais rien r\u00e9serv\u00e9 pour moi-m\u00eame, et s'il y\nen avait eu davantage, je lui aurais tout donn\u00e9.\nIl fut si oblig\u00e9 par mes fa\u00e7ons et si charm\u00e9 de la somme, car il avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 plein de l'affreuse frayeur qu'il n'y eut rien, qu'il accepta avec\nmille remerciements. Et ainsi je me tirai de la fraude que j'avais\nfaite, en passant pour avoir une fortune sans avoir d'argent, et en\npipant un homme au mariage par cet app\u00e2t, chose que d'ailleurs je tiens\npour une des plus dangereuses o\u00f9 une femme puisse s'engager, et o\u00f9 elle\ns'expose aux plus grands hasards d'\u00eatre maltrait\u00e9e par son mari.\nMon mari, pour lui donner son d\u00fb, \u00e9tait un homme d'infiniment de bonne\nhumeur, mais ce n'\u00e9tait point un sot, et, trouvant que son revenu ne\ns'accordait pas \u00e0 la mani\u00e8re de vivre qu'il e\u00fbt entendu, si je lui eusse\napport\u00e9 ce qu'il esp\u00e9rait, d\u00e9sappoint\u00e9 d'ailleurs par le profit annuel\nde ses plantations en Virginie, il me d\u00e9couvrit maintes fois son\ninclination \u00e0 passer en Virginie pour vivre sur ses terres, et souvent\nme peignait de belles couleurs la fa\u00e7on dont on vivait l\u00e0-bas, combien\ntout \u00e9tait \u00e0 bon march\u00e9, abondant, d\u00e9licieux, et mille choses pareilles.\nJ'en vins bient\u00f4t \u00e0 comprendre ce qu'il voulait dire, et je le repris\nbien simplement un matin, en lui disant qu'il me paraissait que ses\nterres ne rendaient presque rien \u00e0 cause de la distance, en comparaison\ndu revenu qu'elles auraient s'il y demeurait, et que je voyais bien\nqu'il avait le d\u00e9sir d'aller y vivre; que je sentais vivement qu'il\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9sappoint\u00e9 en \u00e9pousant sa femme, et que je ne pouvais faire\nmoins, par mani\u00e8re d'amende honorable, que de lui dire que j'\u00e9tais pr\u00eate\n\u00e0 partir avec lui pour la Virginie afin d'y vivre.\nIl me dit mille choses charmantes au sujet de la gr\u00e2ce que je mettais \u00e0\nlui faire cette proposition. Il me dit que, bien qu'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\nd\u00e9sappoint\u00e9 par ses esp\u00e9rances de fortune, il n'avait pas \u00e9t\u00e9\nd\u00e9sappoint\u00e9 par sa femme, et que j'\u00e9tais pour lui tout ce que peut \u00eatre\nune femme, mais que cette offre \u00e9tait plus charmante qu'il n'\u00e9tait\ncapable d'exprimer.\nPour couper court, nous nous d\u00e9cid\u00e2mes \u00e0 partir. Il me dit qu'il avait\nl\u00e0-bas une tr\u00e8s bonne maison, bien garnie, o\u00f9 vivait sa m\u00e8re, avec une\nsoeur, qui \u00e9taient tous les parents qu'il avait; et qu'aussit\u00f4t son\narriv\u00e9e, elles iraient habiter une autre maison qui appartenait \u00e0 sa\nm\u00e8re sa vie durant, et qui lui reviendrait, \u00e0 lui, plus tard, de sorte\nque j'aurais toute la maison \u00e0 moi, et je trouvai tout justement comme\nil disait.\nNous m\u00eemes \u00e0 bord du vaisseau, o\u00f9 nous nous embarqu\u00e2mes, une grande\nquantit\u00e9 de bons meubles pour notre maison, avec des provisions de linge\net autres n\u00e9cessit\u00e9s, et une bonne cargaison de vente, et nous voil\u00e0\npartis.\nJe ne rendrai point compte de la mani\u00e8re de notre voyage, qui fut longue\net pleine de dangers, mais serait hors propos; je ne tins pas de\njournal, ni mon mari; tout ce que je puis dire, c'est qu'apr\u00e8s un\nterrible passage, deux fois \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s par d'affreuses temp\u00eates, et une\nfois par une chose encore plus terrible, je veux dire un pirate, qui\nnous aborda et nous \u00f4ta presque toutes nos provisions et, ce qui aurait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 le comble de mon malheur, ils m'avaient pris mon mari, mais par\nsupplications se laiss\u00e8rent fl\u00e9chir et le rendirent; je dis, apr\u00e8s\ntoutes ces choses terribles, nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 la rivi\u00e8re d'York, en\nVirginie, et, venant \u00e0 notre plantation, nous f\u00fbmes re\u00e7us par la m\u00e8re de\nmon mari avec toute la tendresse et l'affection qu'on peut s'imaginer.\nNous v\u00e9c\u00fbmes l\u00e0 tous ensemble: ma belle-m\u00e8re, sur ma demande, continuant\n\u00e0 habiter dans la maison, car c'\u00e9tait une trop bonne m\u00e8re pour qu'on se\ns\u00e9par\u00e2t d'elle; et mon mari d'abord resta le m\u00eame; et je me croyais la\ncr\u00e9ature la plus heureuse qui f\u00fbt en vie, quand un \u00e9v\u00e9nement \u00e9trange et\nsurprenant mit fin \u00e0 toute cette f\u00e9licit\u00e9 en un moment et rendit ma\ncondition la plus incommode du monde.\nMa m\u00e8re \u00e9tait une vieille femme extraordinairement gaie et pleine de\nbonne humeur, je puis bien dire vieille, car son fils avait plus de\ntrente ans; elle \u00e9tait de bonne compagnie, dis-je, agr\u00e9able, et\nm'entretenait en priv\u00e9 d'abondance d'histoires pour me divertir, autant\nsur la contr\u00e9e o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions que sur les habitants.\nEt, entre autres, elle me disait souvent comment la plus grande partie\nde ceux qui vivaient dans cette colonie y \u00e9taient venus d'Angleterre\ndans une condition fort basse, et qu'en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral il y avait deux classes:\nen premier lieu, tels qui \u00e9taient transport\u00e9s par des ma\u00eetres de\nvaisseau pour \u00eatre vendus comme serviteurs; ou, en second lieu, tels qui\nsont d\u00e9port\u00e9s apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 reconnus coupables de crimes qui m\u00e9ritent\nla mort.\n--Quand ils arrivent ici, dit-elle, nous ne faisons pas de diff\u00e9rence:\nles planteurs les ach\u00e8tent, et ils vont travailler tous ensemble aux\nchamps jusqu'\u00e0 ce que leur temps soit fini; quand il est expir\u00e9,\ndit-elle, on leur donne des encouragements \u00e0 seule fin qu'ils plantent\neux-m\u00eames, car le gouvernement leur alloue un certain nombre d'acres de\nterre, et ils se mettent au travail pour d\u00e9blayer et d\u00e9fricher le\nterrain, puis pour le planter de tabac et de bl\u00e9, \u00e0 leur propre usage;\net comme les marchands leur confient outils et le n\u00e9cessaire sur le\ncr\u00e9dit de leur r\u00e9colte, avant qu'elle soit pouss\u00e9e, ils plantent chaque\nann\u00e9e un peu plus que l'ann\u00e9e d'auparavant, et ainsi ach\u00e8tent ce qu'ils\nveulent avec la moisson qu'ils ont en perspective. Et voil\u00e0 comment, mon\nenfant, dit-elle, maint gibier de Newgate devient un personnage\nconsid\u00e9rable; et nous avons, continua-t-elle, plusieurs juges de paix,\nofficiers des milices et magistrats des cit\u00e9s qui ont eu la main marqu\u00e9e\nau fer rouge.\nElle allait continuer cette partie de son histoire, quand le propre r\u00f4le\nqu'elle y jouait l'interrompit; et, avec une confiance pleine de bonne\nhumeur, elle me dit qu'elle-m\u00eame faisait partie de la seconde classe\nd'habitants, qu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 embarqu\u00e9e ouvertement, s'\u00e9tant aventur\u00e9e\ntrop loin dans un cas particulier, d'o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait devenue criminelle.\n--Et en voici la marque, mon enfant, dit-elle, et me fit voir un tr\u00e8s\nbeau bras blanc, et sa main, mais avec la tape du fer chaud dans la\npaume de la main, comme il arrive en ces circonstances.\nCette histoire m'\u00e9mut infiniment, mais ma m\u00e8re, souriant, dit:\n--Il ne faut point vous \u00e9merveiller de cela, ma fille, comme d'une chose\n\u00e9trange, car plusieurs des personnes les plus consid\u00e9rables de la\ncontr\u00e9e portent la marque du fer \u00e0 la main, et n'\u00e9prouvent aucune honte\n\u00e0 la reconna\u00eetre: voici le major X..., dit-elle; c'\u00e9tait un c\u00e9l\u00e8bre\npickpocket; voici le juge Ba...r: c'\u00e9tait un voleur de boutiques, et\ntous deux ont \u00e9t\u00e9 marqu\u00e9s \u00e0 la main, et je pourrais vous en nommer\nd'autres tels que ceux-l\u00e0.\nNous t\u00eenmes souvent des discours de ce genre, et elle me donna quantit\u00e9\nd'exemples de ce qu'elle disait; au bout de quelque temps, un jour\nqu'elle me racontait les aventures d'une personne qui venait d'\u00eatre\nd\u00e9port\u00e9e quelques semaines auparavant, je me mis, en quelque sorte sur\nun ton intime, \u00e0 lui demander de me raconter des parties de sa propre\nhistoire, ce qu'elle fit avec une extr\u00eame simplicit\u00e9 et fort\nsinc\u00e8rement; comment elle \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9e en mauvaise compagnie \u00e0 Londres\npendant ses jeunes ann\u00e9es, ce qui \u00e9tait venu de ce que sa m\u00e8re\nl'envoyait fr\u00e9quemment porter \u00e0 manger \u00e0 une de ses parentes, qui \u00e9tait\nprisonni\u00e8re \u00e0 Newgate, dans une mis\u00e9rable condition affam\u00e9e, qui fut\nensuite condamn\u00e9e \u00e0 mort, mais ayant obtenu r\u00e9pit en plaidant son\nventre, p\u00e9rit ensuite dans la prison.\nIci ma belle-m\u00e8re m'\u00e9num\u00e9ra une longue liste des affreuses choses qui se\npassent d'ordinaire dans cet horrible lieu.\n--Et, mon enfant, dit ma m\u00e8re, peut-\u00eatre que tu connais bien mal tout\ncela, ou il se peut m\u00eame que tu n'en aies jamais entendu parler; mais\nsois-en s\u00fbre, dit-elle, et nous le savons tous ici, cette seule prison\nde Newgate engendre plus de voleurs et de mis\u00e9rables que tous les clubs\net associations de criminels de la nation; c'est ce lieu de mal\u00e9diction,\ndit ma m\u00e8re, qui peuple \u00e0 demi cette colonie.\nIci elle continua \u00e0 me raconter son histoire, si longuement, et de fa\u00e7on\nsi d\u00e9taill\u00e9e, que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me sentir tr\u00e8s troubl\u00e9e; mais\nlorsqu'elle arriva \u00e0 une circonstance particuli\u00e8re qui l'obligeait \u00e0 me\ndire son nom, je pensai m'\u00e9vanouir sur place; elle vit que j'\u00e9tais en\nd\u00e9sordre, et me demanda si je ne me sentais pas bien et ce qui me\nfaisait souffrir. Je lui dis que j'\u00e9tais si affect\u00e9e de la m\u00e9lancolique\nhistoire qu'elle avait dite, que l'\u00e9motion avait \u00e9t\u00e9 trop forte pour\nmoi, et je la suppliai de ne m'en plus parler.\n--Mais, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-elle tr\u00e8s tendrement, il ne faut nullement\nt'affliger de ces choses. Toutes ces aventures sont arriv\u00e9es bien avant\nton temps, et elles ne me donnent plus aucune inqui\u00e9tude; oui, et je les\nconsid\u00e8re m\u00eame dans mon souvenir avec une satisfaction particuli\u00e8re,\npuisqu'elles ont servi \u00e0 m'amener jusqu'ici.\nPuis elle continua \u00e0 me raconter comment elle \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9e entre les\nmains d'une bonne famille, o\u00f9, par sa bonne conduite, sa ma\u00eetresse \u00e9tant\nmorte, son ma\u00eetre l'avait \u00e9pous\u00e9e, et c'est de lui qu'elle avait eu mon\nmari et ma soeur; et comment, par sa diligence et son bon gouvernement,\napr\u00e8s la mort de son mari, elle avait am\u00e9lior\u00e9 les plantations \u00e0 un\npoint qu'elles n'avaient pas atteint jusque-l\u00e0, si bien que la plus\ngrande partie des terres avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 mises en culture par elle, non par\nson mari; car elle \u00e9tait veuve depuis plus de seize ans.\nJ'\u00e9coutai cette partie de l'histoire avec fort peu d'attention par le\ngrand besoin que j'\u00e9prouvais de me retirer et de laisser libre cours \u00e0\nmes passions; et qu'on juge quelle dut \u00eatre l'angoisse de mon esprit\nquand je vins \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir que cette femme n'\u00e9tait ni plus ni moins que\nma propre m\u00e8re, et que maintenant j'avais eu deux enfants, et que\nj'\u00e9tais grosse d'un troisi\u00e8me des oeuvres de mon propre fr\u00e8re, et que je\ncouchais encore avec lui toutes les nuits.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant la plus malheureuse de toutes les femmes au monde.\nOh! si l'histoire ne m'avait jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 dite, tout aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 si bien!\nce n'aurait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 un crime de coucher avec mon mari, si je n'en avais\nrien su!\nJ'avais maintenant un si lourd fardeau sur l'esprit que je demeurais\nperp\u00e9tuellement \u00e9veill\u00e9e; je ne pouvais voir aucune utilit\u00e9 \u00e0 le\nr\u00e9v\u00e9ler, et pourtant le dissimuler \u00e9tait presque impossible; oui, et je\nne doutais pas que je ne parlerais pendant mon sommeil et que je dirais\nle secret \u00e0 mon mari, que je le voulusse ou non; si je le d\u00e9couvrais, le\nmoins que je pouvais attendre \u00e9tait de perdre mon mari; car c'\u00e9tait un\nhomme trop d\u00e9licat et trop honn\u00eate pour continuer \u00e0 \u00eatre mon mari apr\u00e8s\nqu'il aurait su que j'\u00e9tais sa soeur; si bien que j'\u00e9tais embarrass\u00e9e au\ndernier degr\u00e9.\nJe laisse \u00e0 juger \u00e0 tous les hommes les difficult\u00e9s qui s'offraient \u00e0 ma\nvue: j'\u00e9tais loin de mon pays natal, \u00e0 une distance prodigieuse, et je\nne pourrais trouver de passage pour le retour; je vivais tr\u00e8s bien, mais\ndans une condition insupportable en elle-m\u00eame; si je me d\u00e9couvrais \u00e0 ma\nm\u00e8re, il pourrait \u00eatre difficile de la convaincre des d\u00e9tails, et je\nn'avais pas de moyen de les prouver; d'autre part, si elle\nm'interrogeait ou si elle doutait de mes paroles, j'\u00e9tais perdue; car la\nsimple suggestion me s\u00e9parerait imm\u00e9diatement de mon mari, sans me\ngagner ni sa m\u00e8re ni lui, si bien qu'entre la surprise d'une part, et\nl'incertitude de l'autre, je serais s\u00fbrement perdue.\nCependant, comme je n'\u00e9tais que trop s\u00fbre de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, il est clair que\nje vivais en plein inceste et en prostitution avou\u00e9e, le tout sous\nl'apparence d'une honn\u00eate femme; et bien que je ne fusse pas tr\u00e8s\ntouch\u00e9e du crime qu'il y avait l\u00e0, pourtant l'action avait en elle\nquelque chose de choquant pour la nature et me rendait m\u00eame mon mari\nr\u00e9pugnant. N\u00e9anmoins, apr\u00e8s longue et s\u00e9rieuse d\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, je r\u00e9solus\nqu'il \u00e9tait absolument n\u00e9cessaire de tout dissimuler, de n'en pas faire\nla moindre d\u00e9couverte ni \u00e0 ma m\u00e8re ni \u00e0 mon mari; et ainsi je v\u00e9cus sous\nla plus lourde oppression qu'on puisse s'imaginer pendant trois ann\u00e9es\nencore.\nPendant ce temps, ma m\u00e8re prenait plaisir \u00e0 me raconter souvent de\nvieilles histoires sur ses anciennes aventures, qui toutefois ne me\ncharmaient nullement; car ainsi, bien qu'elle ne me le dit pas en termes\nclairs, pourtant je pus comprendre, en rapprochant ses paroles de ce que\nj'avais appris par ceux qui m'avaient d'abord recueillie, que dans les\njours de sa jeunesse elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 prostitu\u00e9e et voleuse; mais je\ncrois, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, qu'elle \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 se repentir sinc\u00e8rement de ces\ndeux crimes, et qu'elle \u00e9tait alors une femme bien pieuse, sobre, et de\nbonne religion.\nEh bien, je laisse sa vie pour ce qu'elle avait pu \u00eatre; mais il est\ncertain que la mienne m'\u00e9tait fort incommode; car je ne vivais, comme je\nl'ai dit, que dans la pire sorte de prostitution; et ainsi que je ne\npouvais en esp\u00e9rer rien de bon, ainsi en r\u00e9alit\u00e9 l'issue n'en fut pas\nbonne et toute mon apparente prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 s'usa et se termina dans la\nmis\u00e8re et la destruction.\nIl se passa quelque temps, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, avant que les choses en vinssent\nl\u00e0; car toutes nos affaires ensuite tourn\u00e8rent \u00e0 mal, et, ce qu'il y eut\nde pire, mon mari s'alt\u00e9ra \u00e9trangement, devint capricieux, jaloux et\nd\u00e9plaisant, et j'\u00e9tais autant impatiente de supporter sa conduite\nqu'elle \u00e9tait d\u00e9raisonnable et injuste. Les choses all\u00e8rent si loin et\nnous en v\u00eenmes enfin \u00e0 \u00eatre en si mauvais termes l'un avec l'autre que\nje r\u00e9clamai l'ex\u00e9cution d'une promesse qu'il m'avait faite\nvolontairement quand j'avais consenti \u00e0 quitter avec lui l'Angleterre;\nc'\u00e9tait que si je ne me plaisais pas \u00e0 vivre l\u00e0-bas, je retournerais en\nAngleterre au moment qu'il me conviendrait, lui ayant donn\u00e9 avis un an \u00e0\nl'avance pour r\u00e9gler ses affaires.\nJe dis que je r\u00e9clamais de lui l'ex\u00e9cution de cette promesse, et je dois\navouer que je ne le fis pas dans les termes les plus obligeants qui se\npussent imaginer; mais je lui d\u00e9clarai qu'il me traitait fort mal, que\nj'\u00e9tais loin de mes amis, sans moyen de me faire rendre justice, et\nqu'il \u00e9tait jaloux sans cause, ma conduite ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 exempte de bl\u00e2me\nsans qu'il p\u00fbt y trouver pr\u00e9texte, et que notre d\u00e9part pour l'Angleterre\nlui en \u00f4terait toute occasion.\nJ'y insistai si absolument qu'il ne put \u00e9viter d'en venir au point ou de\nme tenir sa parole ou d'y manquer; et cela malgr\u00e9 qu'il usa de toute la\nsubtilit\u00e9 dont il fut ma\u00eetre, et employa sa m\u00e8re et d'autres agents pour\npr\u00e9valoir sur moi et me faire changer mes r\u00e9solutions; mais en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 le\nfond de la chose gisait dans mon coeur, et c'est ce qui rendait toutes\nses tentatives vaines, car mon coeur lui \u00e9tait ali\u00e9n\u00e9. J'\u00e9tais d\u00e9go\u00fbt\u00e9e\n\u00e0 la pens\u00e9e d'entrer dans le m\u00eame lit que lui et j'employais mille\npr\u00e9textes d'indisposition et d'humeur pour l'emp\u00eacher de me toucher, ne\ncraignant rien tant que d'\u00eatre encore grosse ce qui s\u00fbrement e\u00fbt emp\u00each\u00e9\nou au moins retard\u00e9 mon passage en Angleterre.\nCependant je le fis enfin sortir d'humeur au point qu'il prit une\nr\u00e9solution rapide et fatale; qu'en somme je ne partirais point pour\nl'Angleterre; que, bien qu'il me l'e\u00fbt promis, pourtant ce serait une\nchose d\u00e9raisonnable, ruineuse \u00e0 ses affaires, qui mettrait sa famille en\nun extr\u00eame d\u00e9sordre et serait tout pr\u00e8s de le perdre enti\u00e8rement;\nqu'ainsi je ne devais point la lui demander, et que pas une femme au\nmonde qui estimerait le bonheur de sa famille et de son mari n'y\nvoudrait insister.\nCeci me fit plonger de nouveau; car lorsque je consid\u00e9rais la situation\navec calme et que je prenais mon mari pour ce qu'il \u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement, un\nhomme diligent, prudent au fond, et qu'il ne savait rien de l'horrible\ncondition o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait, je ne pouvais que m'avouer que ma proposition\n\u00e9tait tr\u00e8s d\u00e9raisonnable et qu'aucune femme ayant \u00e0 coeur le bien de sa\nfamille n'e\u00fbt pu d\u00e9sirer.\nMais mon d\u00e9plaisir \u00e9tait d'autre nature; je ne le consid\u00e9rais plus\ncomme un mari, mais comme un proche parent, le fils de ma propre m\u00e8re,\net je r\u00e9solus de fa\u00e7on ou d'autre de me d\u00e9gager de lui, mais par quelle\nmani\u00e8re, je ne le savais point.\nIl a \u00e9t\u00e9 dit par des gens malintentionn\u00e9s de notre sexe que si nous\nsommes ent\u00eat\u00e9es \u00e0 un parti, il est impossible de nous d\u00e9tourner de nos\nr\u00e9solutions; et en somme je ne cessais de m\u00e9diter aux moyens de rendre\nmon d\u00e9part possible, et j'en vins l\u00e0 avec mon mari, que je lui proposai\nde partir sans lui. Ceci le provoqua au dernier degr\u00e9, et il me traita\npas seulement de femme cruelle, mais de m\u00e8re d\u00e9natur\u00e9e, et me demanda\ncomment je pouvais entretenir sans horreur la pens\u00e9e de laisser mes deux\nenfants sans m\u00e8re (car il y en avait un de mort) et de ne plus jamais\nles revoir. Il est vrai que si tout e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 bien, je ne l'eusse point\nfait, mais maintenant mon d\u00e9sir r\u00e9el \u00e9tait de ne jamais plus les revoir,\nni lui; et quant \u00e0 l'accusation o\u00f9 il me reprochait d'\u00eatre d\u00e9natur\u00e9e, je\npouvais facilement y r\u00e9pondre moi-m\u00eame, qui savais que toute cette\nliaison \u00e9tait d\u00e9natur\u00e9e \u00e0 un point extr\u00eame.\nToutefois, il n'y eut point de moyen d'amener mon mari au consentement;\nil ne voulait pas partir avec moi, ni me laisser partir sans lui, et il\n\u00e9tait hors de mon pouvoir de bouger sans son autorisation, comme le sait\nfort bien quiconque conna\u00eet la constitution de cette contr\u00e9e.\nNous e\u00fbmes beaucoup de querelles de famille l\u00e0-dessus, et elles\nmont\u00e8rent \u00e0 une dangereuse hauteur; car de m\u00eame que j'\u00e9tais devenue tout\n\u00e0 fait \u00e9trang\u00e8re \u00e0 lui en affection, ainsi ne prenais-je point garde \u00e0\nmes paroles, mais parfois lui tenais un langage provocant; en somme, je\nluttais de toutes mes forces pour l'amener \u00e0 se s\u00e9parer de moi, ce qui\n\u00e9tait par-dessus tout ce que je d\u00e9sirais le plus.\nIl prit ma conduite fort mal, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 bien pouvait-il le faire, car\nenfin je refusai de coucher avec lui, et creusant la br\u00e8che, en toutes\noccasions, \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, il me dit un jour qu'il pensait que je fusse\nfolle, et que si je ne changeais point mes fa\u00e7ons, il me mettrait en\ntraitement, c'est-\u00e0-dire dans une maison de fous. Je lui dis qu'il\ntrouverait que j'\u00e9tais assez loin d'\u00eatre folle, et qu'il n'\u00e9tait point\nen son pouvoir, ni d'aucun autre sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat, de m'assassiner; je confesse\nqu'en m\u00eame temps j'avais le coeur serr\u00e9 \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e qu'il avait de me\nmettre dans une maison de fous, ce qui aurait d\u00e9truit toute possibilit\u00e9\nde faire para\u00eetre la v\u00e9rit\u00e9; car alors personne n'e\u00fbt plus ajout\u00e9 foi \u00e0\nune seule de mes paroles.\nCeci m'amena donc \u00e0 une r\u00e9solution, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt advenir, d'exposer\nenti\u00e8rement mon cas; mais de quelle fa\u00e7on m'y prendre, et \u00e0 qui, \u00e9tait\nune difficult\u00e9 inextricable; lorsque survint une autre querelle avec mon\nmari, qui s'\u00e9leva \u00e0 une extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 telle que je fus pouss\u00e9e presque \u00e0\ntout lui dire en face; mais bien qu'en r\u00e9servant assez pour ne pas en\nvenir aux d\u00e9tails, j'en dis suffisamment pour le jeter dans une\nextraordinaire confusion, et enfin j'\u00e9clatai et je dis toute l'histoire.\nIl commen\u00e7a par une expostulation calme sur l'ent\u00eatement que je mettais\n\u00e0 vouloir partir pour l'Angleterre. Je d\u00e9fendis ma r\u00e9solution et une\nparole dure en amenant une autre, comme il arrive d'ordinaire dans toute\nquerelle de famille, il me dit que je ne le traitais pas comme s'il fut\nmon mari et que je ne parlais pas de mes enfants comme si je fusse une\nm\u00e8re; qu'en somme je ne m\u00e9ritais pas d'\u00eatre trait\u00e9e en femme; qu'il\navait employ\u00e9 avec moi tous les moyens les plus doux; qu'il m'avait\noppos\u00e9 toute la tendresse et le calme dignes d'un mari ou d'un chr\u00e9tien,\net que je lui en avais fait un si vil retour, que je le traitais plut\u00f4t\nen chien qu'en homme, plut\u00f4t comme l'\u00e9tranger le plus m\u00e9prisable que\ncomme un mari; qu'il avait une extr\u00eame aversion \u00e0 user avec moi de\nviolence, mais qu'en somme il en voyait aujourd'hui la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 et que\ndans l'avenir il serait forc\u00e9 de prendre telles mesures qui me\nr\u00e9duiraient \u00e0 mon devoir.\nMon sang \u00e9tait maintenant enflamm\u00e9 \u00e0 l'extr\u00eame, et rien ne pouvait\npara\u00eetre plus irrit\u00e9! Je lui dis que pour ses moyens, doux ou violents,\nje les m\u00e9prisais \u00e9galement; que pour mon passage en Angleterre, j'y\n\u00e9tais r\u00e9solue, advint ce que pourrait; que pour ce qui \u00e9tait de ne le\npoint traiter en mari ni d'agir en m\u00e8re de mes enfants, il y avait\npeut-\u00eatre l\u00e0-dedans plus qu'il n'en pouvait encore comprendre, mais que\nje jugeais \u00e0 propos de lui dire ceci seulement: que ni lui n'\u00e9tait mon\nmari devant la loi, ni eux mes enfants devant la loi, et que j'avais\nbonne raison de ne point m'inqui\u00e9ter d'eux plus que je ne le faisais.\nJ'avoue que je fus \u00e9mue de piti\u00e9 pour lui sur mes paroles, car il\nchangea de couleur, p\u00e2le comme un mort, muet comme un frapp\u00e9 par la\nfoudre, et une ou deux fois je crus qu'il allait p\u00e2mer; en somme il fut\npris d'un transport assez semblable \u00e0 une apoplexie; il tremblait; une\nsueur ou ros\u00e9e d\u00e9coulait de son visage, et cependant il \u00e9tait froid\ncomme la gl\u00e8be; si bien que je fus oblig\u00e9e de courir chercher de quoi le\nranimer; quand il fut revenu \u00e0 lui, il fut saisi de hauts-le-coeur et se\nmit \u00e0 vomir; et un peu apr\u00e8s on le mit au lit, et le lendemain matin il\n\u00e9tait dans une fi\u00e8vre violente.\nToutefois, elle se dissipa, et il se remit, mais lentement; et quand il\nvint \u00e0 \u00eatre un peu mieux, il me dit que je lui avais fait de ma langue\nune blessure mortelle et qu'il avait seulement une chose \u00e0 me demander\navant toute explication. Je l'interrompis et lui dis que j'\u00e9tais f\u00e2ch\u00e9e\nd'\u00eatre all\u00e9e si loin, puisque je voyais le d\u00e9sordre o\u00f9 mes paroles\nl'avaient jet\u00e9, mais que je le suppliais de ne point parler\nd'explications, car cela ne ferait que tout tourner au pire.\nCeci accrut son impatience qui vraiment l'inqui\u00e9ta plus qu'on ne\nsaurait supporter; car, maintenant, il commen\u00e7a de soup\u00e7onner qu'il y\navait quelque myst\u00e8re encore envelopp\u00e9, mais ne put en approcher, si\nfort qu'il devin\u00e2t; tout ce qui courait dans sa cervelle \u00e9tait que\nj'avais un autre mari vivant, mais je l'assurai qu'il n'y avait nulle\nparcelle de telle chose en l'affaire; en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, pour mon autre mari, il\n\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement mort pour moi et il m'avait dit de le consid\u00e9rer comme\ntel, de sorte que je n'avais pas la moindre inqui\u00e9tude sur ce chapitre.\nMais je trouvai maintenant que la chose \u00e9tait all\u00e9e trop loin pour la\ndissimuler plus longtemps, et mon mari lui-m\u00eame me donna l'occasion de\nm'all\u00e9ger du secret bien \u00e0 ma satisfaction; il m'avait travaill\u00e9e trois\nou quatre semaines, sans parvenir \u00e0 rien, pour obtenir seulement que je\nlui dise si j'avais prononc\u00e9 ces paroles \u00e0 seule fin de le mettre en\ncol\u00e8re, ou s'il y avait rien de vrai au fond. Mais je restai inflexible,\net refusai de rien expliquer, \u00e0 moins que d'abord il consent\u00eet \u00e0 mon\nd\u00e9part pour l'Angleterre, ce qu'il ne ferait jamais, dit-il, tant qu'il\nserait en vie; d'autre part, je lui dis qu'il \u00e9tait en mon pouvoir de le\nrendre consentant au moment qu'il me plairait, ou m\u00eame de faire qu'il me\nsupplierait de partir; et ceci accrut sa curiosit\u00e9 et le rendit importun\nau plus haut point.\nEnfin il dit toute cette histoire \u00e0 sa m\u00e8re, et la mit \u00e0 l'oeuvre sur\nmoi, afin de me tirer la v\u00e9rit\u00e9; en quoi elle employa vraiment toute son\nadresse la plus fine; mais je l'arr\u00eatai tout net en lui disant que le\nmyst\u00e8re de toute l'affaire \u00e9tait en elle-m\u00eame, que c'\u00e9tait le respect\nque je lui portais qui m'avait engag\u00e9e \u00e0 le dissimuler, et qu'en somme\nje ne pouvais en dire plus long et que je la suppliais de ne pas\ninsister.\nElle fut frapp\u00e9e de stupeur \u00e0 ces mots, et ne sut que dire ni penser;\npuis \u00e9cartant la supposition, et feignant de la regarder comme une\ntactique, elle continua \u00e0 m'importuner au sujet de son fils, afin de\ncombler, s'il \u00e9tait possible, la br\u00e8che qui s'\u00e9tait faite entre nous.\nPour cela, lui dis-je, c'\u00e9tait \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 un excellent dessein sur sa\npart, mais il \u00e9tait impossible qu'elle p\u00fbt y r\u00e9ussir; et que si je lui\nr\u00e9v\u00e9lais la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de ce qu'elle d\u00e9sirait, elle m'accorderait que\nc'\u00e9tait impossible, et cesserait de le d\u00e9sirer. Enfin je parus c\u00e9der \u00e0\nson importunit\u00e9, et lui dis que j'osais lui confier un secret de la plus\ngrande importance, et qu'elle verrait bient\u00f4t qu'il en \u00e9tait ainsi; et\nque je consentirais \u00e0 le loger dans son coeur, si elle s'engageait\nsolennellement \u00e0 ne pas le faire conna\u00eetre \u00e0 son fils sans mon\nconsentement.\nElle mit longtemps \u00e0 me promettre cette partie-l\u00e0, mais plut\u00f4t que de ne\npas entendre le grand secret, elle jura de s'y accorder, et apr\u00e8s\nbeaucoup d'autres pr\u00e9liminaires je commen\u00e7ai et lui dis toute\nl'histoire. D'abord, je lui dis combien elle \u00e9tait \u00e9troitement m\u00eal\u00e9e \u00e0\nla malheureuse rupture qui s'\u00e9tait faite entre son fils et moi, par\nm'avoir racont\u00e9 sa propre histoire, et me dit le nom qu'elle portait \u00e0\nLondres; et que la surprise o\u00f9 elle avait vu que j'\u00e9tais, m'avait saisie\n\u00e0 cette occasion; puis je lui dis ma propre histoire, et mon nom, et\nl'assurai, par tels autres signes qu'elle ne pouvait m\u00e9conna\u00eetre, que je\nn'\u00e9tais point d'autre, ni plus ni moins, que sa propre enfant, sa fille,\nn\u00e9e de son corps dans la prison de Newgate; la m\u00eame qui l'avait sauv\u00e9e\nde la potence parce qu'elle \u00e9tait dans son sein, qu'elle avait laiss\u00e9e\nen telles et telles mains lorsqu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9port\u00e9e.\nIl est impossible d'exprimer l'\u00e9tonnement o\u00f9 elle fut; elle ne fut pas\nencline \u00e0 croire l'histoire, ou \u00e0 se souvenir des d\u00e9tails; car\nimm\u00e9diatement elle pr\u00e9vit la confusion qui devait s'ensuivre dans toute\nla famille; mais tout concordait si exactement avec les histoires\nqu'elle m'avait dites d'elle-m\u00eame, et que si elle ne m'avait pas eu\ndites, elle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 peut-\u00eatre bien aise de nier, qu'elle se trouva la\nbouche ferm\u00e9e, et ne put rien faire que me jeter ses bras autour du cou,\net m'embrasser, et pleurer tr\u00e8s ardemment sur moi, sans dire une seule\nparole pendant un tr\u00e8s long temps; enfin elle \u00e9clata:\n--Malheureuse enfant! dit-elle, quelle mis\u00e9rable chance a pu t'amener\njusqu'ici? et encore dans les bras de mon fils! Terrible fille,\ndit-elle, mais nous sommes tous perdus! mari\u00e9e \u00e0 ton propre fr\u00e8re! trois\nenfants, et deux vivants, tous de la m\u00eame chair et du m\u00eame sang! mon\nfils et ma fille ayant couch\u00e9 ensemble comme mari et femme! tout\nconfusion et folie! mis\u00e9rable famille! qu'allons-nous devenir? que\nfaut-il dire? que faut-il faire?\nEt ainsi elle se lamenta longtemps, et je n'avais point le pouvoir de\nparler, et si je l'avais eu, je n'aurais su quoi dire, car chaque parole\nme blessait jusqu'\u00e0 l'\u00e2me. Dans cette sorte de stupeur nous nous\ns\u00e9par\u00e2mes pour la premi\u00e8re fois; quoique ma m\u00e8re f\u00fbt plus surprise que\nje ne l'\u00e9tais, parce que la chose \u00e9tait plus nouvelle pour elle que pour\nmoi, toutefois elle promit encore qu'elle n'en dirait rien \u00e0 son fils\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que nous en eussions caus\u00e9 de nouveau.\nIl ne se passa longtemps, comme vous pouvez bien penser, que nous e\u00fbmes\nune seconde conf\u00e9rence sur le m\u00eame sujet, o\u00f9, semblant feindre d'oublier\nson histoire qu'elle m'avait dite, ou supposer que j'avais oubli\u00e9\nquelques-uns des d\u00e9tails, elle se prit \u00e0 les raconter avec des\nchangements et des omissions; mais je lui rafra\u00eechis la m\u00e9moire sur\nbeaucoup de points que je pensais qu'elle avait oubli\u00e9s, puis j'amenai\nle reste de l'histoire de fa\u00e7on si opportune qu'il lui fut impossible de\ns'en d\u00e9gager, et alors elle retomba dans ses rapsodies et ses\nexclamations sur la duret\u00e9 de ses malheurs. Quand tout cela fut un peu\ndissip\u00e9, nous entr\u00e2mes en d\u00e9bat serr\u00e9 sur ce qu'il convenait de faire\nd'abord avant de rien expliquer \u00e0 mon mari. Mais \u00e0 quel propos pouvaient\n\u00eatre toutes nos consultations? Aucune de nous ne pouvait voir d'issue \u00e0\nnotre anxi\u00e9t\u00e9 ou comment il pouvait \u00eatre sage de lui d\u00e9voiler une\npareille trag\u00e9die; il \u00e9tait impossible de juger ou de deviner l'humeur\ndont il recevrait le secret, ni les mesures qu'il prendrait; et s'il\nvenait \u00e0 avoir assez peu le gouvernement de soi-m\u00eame pour le rendre\npublic, il \u00e9tait facile de pr\u00e9voir que ce serait la ruine de la famille\nenti\u00e8re; et si enfin il saisissait l'avantage que la loi lui donnerait,\nil me r\u00e9pudierait peut-\u00eatre avec d\u00e9dain, et me laisserait \u00e0 lui faire\nproc\u00e8s pour la pauvre dot que je lui avais apport\u00e9e, et peut-\u00eatre la\nd\u00e9penser en frais de justice pour \u00eatre mendiante en fin de compte; et\nainsi le verrais-je peut-\u00eatre au bout de peu de mois dans les bras d'une\nautre femme, tandis que je serais moi-m\u00eame la plus malheureuse cr\u00e9ature\ndu monde. Ma m\u00e8re \u00e9tait aussi sensible \u00e0 tout ceci que moi; et en somme\nnous ne savions que faire. Apr\u00e8s, quelque temps nous en v\u00eenmes \u00e0 de plus\nsobres r\u00e9solutions, mais ce fut alors aussi avec ce malheur que\nl'opinion de ma m\u00e8re et la mienne diff\u00e9raient enti\u00e8rement l'une de\nl'autre, \u00e9tant contradictoires; car l'opinion de ma m\u00e8re \u00e9tait que je\ndevais enterrer l'affaire profond\u00e9ment, et continuer \u00e0 vivre avec lui\ncomme mon mari, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que quelque autre \u00e9v\u00e9nement rendit la\nd\u00e9couverte plus ais\u00e9e; et que cependant elle s'efforcerait de nous\nr\u00e9concilier et de restaurer notre confort mutuel et la paix du foyer; et\nainsi que toute l'affaire demeur\u00e2t un secret aussi imp\u00e9n\u00e9trable que la\nmort.--Car, mon enfant, dit-elle, nous sommes perdues toutes deux s'il\nvient au jour.\nPour m'encourager \u00e0 ceci, elle promit de rendre ma condition ais\u00e9e et de\nme laisser \u00e0 sa mort tout ce qu'elle pourrait, en part r\u00e9serv\u00e9e et\ns\u00e9par\u00e9e de mon mari; de sorte que si la chose venait \u00e0 \u00eatre connue plus\ntard, je serais en mesure de me tenir sur mes pieds, et de me faire\nrendre justice par lui.\nCette proposition ne s'accordait point avec mon jugement, quoiqu'elle\nf\u00fbt belle et tendre de la part de ma m\u00e8re; mais mes id\u00e9es couraient sur\nune tout autre route.\nQuant \u00e0 garder la chose enserr\u00e9e dans nos coeurs, et \u00e0 laisser tout en\nl'\u00e9tat, je lui dis que c'\u00e9tait impossible; et je lui demandai comment\nelle pouvait penser que je pourrais supporter l'id\u00e9e de continuer \u00e0\nvivre avec mon propre fr\u00e8re. En second lieu je lui dis que ce n'\u00e9tait\nque parce qu'elle \u00e9tait en vie qu'il y avait quelque support \u00e0 la\nd\u00e9couverte, et que tant qu'elle me reconna\u00eetrait pour sa fille, avec\nraison d'en \u00eatre persuad\u00e9e, personne d'autre n'en douterait; mais que si\nelle mourait avant la d\u00e9couverte, on me prendrait pour une cr\u00e9ature\nimprudente qui avait forg\u00e9 ce mensonge afin d'abandonner mon mari, ou on\nme consid\u00e9rerait comme folle et \u00e9gar\u00e9e. Alors je lui dis comment il\nm'avait menac\u00e9e d\u00e9j\u00e0 de m'enfermer dans une maison de fous, et dans\nquelle inqui\u00e9tude j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 l\u00e0-dessus, et comment c'\u00e9tait la raison\nqui m'avait pouss\u00e9e \u00e0 tout lui d\u00e9couvrir.\nEt enfin je lui dis qu'apr\u00e8s les plus s\u00e9rieuses r\u00e9flexions possibles,\nj'en \u00e9tait venue \u00e0 cette r\u00e9solution que j'esp\u00e9rais qui lui plairait et\nn'\u00e9tait point extr\u00eame, qu'elle us\u00e2t de son influence pour son fils pour\nm'obtenir le cong\u00e9 de partir pour l'Angleterre, comme je l'avais\ndemand\u00e9, et de me munir d'une suffisante somme d'argent, soit en\nmarchandises que j'emportais, soit en billets de change, tout en lui\nsugg\u00e9rant qu'il pourrait trouver bon en temps voulu de venir me\nrejoindre.\nQue lorsque je serais partie, elle alors, de sang-froid, lui\nd\u00e9couvrirait graduellement le cas, suivant qu'elle serait guid\u00e9e par sa\ndiscr\u00e9tion, de fa\u00e7on qu'il ne f\u00fbt pas surpris \u00e0 l'exc\u00e8s et ne se\nr\u00e9pandit pas en passions et en extravagances; et qu'elle aurait soin de\nl'emp\u00eacher de prendre de l'aversion pour les enfants ou de les\nmaltraiter, ou de se remarier, \u00e0 moins qu'il e\u00fbt la certitude que je\nfusse morte.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 mon dessein, et mes raisons \u00e9taient bonnes: je lui \u00e9tais\nv\u00e9ritablement ali\u00e9n\u00e9e par toutes ces choses; en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je le ha\u00efssais\nmortellement comme mari, et il \u00e9tait impossible de m'\u00f4ter l'aversion\nfixe que j'avais con\u00e7ue; en m\u00eame temps cette vie ill\u00e9gale et\nincestueuse, jointe \u00e0 l'aversion, me rendait la cohabitation avec lui la\nchose la plus r\u00e9pugnante au monde; et je crois vraiment que j'en \u00e9tais\nvenue au point que j'eusse autant aim\u00e9 \u00e0 embrasser un chien, que de le\nlaisser s'approcher de moi; pour quelle raison je ne pouvais souffrir la\npens\u00e9e d'entrer dans les m\u00eames draps que lui; je ne puis dire qu'il\n\u00e9tait bien de ma part d'aller si loin, tandis que je ne me d\u00e9cidais\npoint \u00e0 lui d\u00e9couvrir le secret; mais je raconte ce qui \u00e9tait, non pas\nce qui aurait d\u00fb ou qui n'aurait pas du \u00eatre.\nDans ces opinions directement oppos\u00e9es ma m\u00e8re et moi nous continu\u00e2mes\nlongtemps, et il fut impossible de r\u00e9concilier nos jugements; nous e\u00fbmes\nbeaucoup de disputes l\u00e0-dessus, mais aucune de nous ne voulait c\u00e9der ni\nne pouvait convaincre l'autre.\nJ'insistais sur mon aversion \u00e0 vivre en \u00e9tat de mariage avec mon propre\nfr\u00e8re; et elle insistait sur ce qu'il \u00e9tait impossible de l'amener \u00e0\nconsentir \u00e0 mon d\u00e9part pour l'Angleterre; et dans cette incertitude nous\ncontinu\u00e2mes, notre diff\u00e9rend ne s'\u00e9levant pas jusqu'\u00e0 la querelle ou\nrien d'analogue; mais nous n'\u00e9tions pas capables de d\u00e9cider ce qu'il\nfallait faire pour r\u00e9parer cette terrible br\u00e8che.\nEnfin je me r\u00e9solus \u00e0 un parti d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9, et je dis \u00e0 ma m\u00e8re que ma\nr\u00e9solution \u00e9tait, en somme, que je lui dirais tout moi-m\u00eame. Ma m\u00e8re fut\n\u00e9pouvant\u00e9e \u00e0 la seule id\u00e9e de mon dessein: mais je la priai de se\nrassurer, lui dis que je le ferais peu \u00e0 peu et doucement, avec tout\nl'art de la bonne humeur dont j'\u00e9tais ma\u00eetresse, et que je choisirais\naussi le moment du mieux que je pourrais, pour prendre mon mari\n\u00e9galement dans sa bonne humeur; je lui dis que je ne doutais point que\nsi je pouvais avoir assez d'hypocrisie pour feindre plus d'affection\npour lui que je n'en avais r\u00e9ellement, je r\u00e9ussirais dans tout mon\ndessein et que nous nous s\u00e9parerions par consentement et de bon gr\u00e9 car\nje pouvais l'aimer assez bien comme fr\u00e8re, quoique non pas comme mari.\nEt pendant tout ce temps il assi\u00e9geait ma m\u00e8re, afin de d\u00e9couvrir, si\npossible, ce que signifiait l'affreuse expression dont je m'\u00e9tais\nservie, comme il disait, quand je lui avais cri\u00e9 que je n'\u00e9tais pas sa\nfemme devant la loi, ni mes enfants n'\u00e9taient les siens devant la loi.\nMa m\u00e8re lui fit prendre patience, lui dit qu'elle ne pouvait tirer de\nmoi nulle explication, mais qu'elle voyait que j'\u00e9tais fort troubl\u00e9e par\nune chose qu'elle esp\u00e9rait bien me faire dire un jour; et cependant lui\nrecommanda s\u00e9rieusement de me traiter avec plus de tendresse, et de me\nregagner par la douceur qu'il avait eue auparavant; lui dit qu'il\nm'avait terrifi\u00e9e et plong\u00e9e dans l'horreur par ses menaces de\nm'enfermer dans une maison de fous, et lui conseilla de ne jamais\npousser une femme au d\u00e9sespoir, quelque raison qu'il y e\u00fbt.\nIl lui promit d'adoucir sa conduite, et la pria de m'assurer qu'il\nm'aimait plus que jamais et qu'il n'entretenait point de dessein tel que\nm'envoyer dans une maison de fous, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt dire pendant sa\ncol\u00e8re, et il pria aussi ma m\u00e8re d'user pour moi des m\u00eames persuasions\nafin que nous puissions vivre ensemble comme autrefois.\nJe sentis aussit\u00f4t les effets de ce trait\u00e9; la conduite de mon mari\ns'alt\u00e9ra sur-le-champ, et ce fut tout un autre homme pour moi; rien ne\nsaurait \u00eatre plus tendre et plus obligeant qu'il ne l'\u00e9tait envers moi \u00e0\ntoutes occasions; et je ne pouvais faire moins que d'y donner quelque\nretour, ce que je faisais du mieux que je pouvais, mais au fort, de\nfa\u00e7on maladroite, car rien ne m'\u00e9tait plus effrayant que ses caresses,\net l'appr\u00e9hension de devenir de nouveau grosse de lui \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s de me\njeter dans des acc\u00e8s; et voil\u00e0 qui me faisait voir qu'il y avait\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 absolue de lui r\u00e9v\u00e9ler le tout sans d\u00e9lai, ce que je fis\ntoutefois avec toute la pr\u00e9caution et la r\u00e9serve qu'on peut s'imaginer.\nIl avait continu\u00e9 dans son changement de conduite \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard depuis\npr\u00e8s d'un mois, et nous commencions \u00e0 vivre d'un nouveau genre de vie\nl'un avec l'autre, et si j'avais pu me satisfaire de cette position, je\ncrois qu'elle aurait pu durer tant que nous eussions v\u00e9cu ensemble. Un\nsoir que nous \u00e9tions assis et que nous causions tous deux sous une\npetite tonnelle qui s'ouvrait sous un bosquet \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e du jardin, il\nse trouva en humeur bien gaie et agr\u00e9able, et me dit quantit\u00e9 de choses\ntendres qui se rapportaient au plaisir que lui donnait notre bonne\nentente, et les d\u00e9sordres de notre rupture de jadis, et quelle\nsatisfaction c'\u00e9tait pour lui que nous eussions lieu d'esp\u00e9rer que\njamais plus il ne s'\u00e9l\u00e8verait rien entre nous.\nJe tirai un profond soupir, et lui dis qu'il n'y avait femme du monde\nqui p\u00fbt \u00eatre plus charm\u00e9e que moi de la bonne entente que nous avions\nconserv\u00e9e, ou plus afflig\u00e9e de la voir rompre, mais que j'\u00e9tais f\u00e2ch\u00e9e\nde lui dire qu'il y avait dans notre cas une circonstance malheureuse\nqui me tenait de trop pr\u00e8s au coeur et que je ne savais comment lui\nr\u00e9v\u00e9ler, ce qui rendait mon r\u00f4le fort mis\u00e9rable, et m'\u00f4tait toute\njouissance de repos. Il m'importuna de lui dire ce que c'\u00e9tait; je lui\nr\u00e9pondis que je ne saurais le faire; que tant que le secret lui\nresterait cach\u00e9, moi seule je serais malheureuse, mais que s'il\nl'apprenait aussi, nous le deviendrions tous les deux; et qu'ainsi la\nchose la plus tendre que je pusse faire \u00e9tait de le tenir dans les\nt\u00e9n\u00e8bres, et que c'\u00e9tait la seule raison qui me portait \u00e0 lui tenir\nsecret un myst\u00e8re dont je pensais que la garde m\u00eame am\u00e8nerait t\u00f4t ou\ntard ma destruction.\nIl est impossible d'exprimer la surprise que lui donn\u00e8rent ces paroles,\net la double importunit\u00e9 dont il usa envers moi pour obtenir une\nr\u00e9v\u00e9lation; il m'assura qu'on ne pourrait me dire tendre pour lui, ni\nm\u00eame fid\u00e8le, si je continuais \u00e0 garder le secret. Je lui dis que je le\npensais aussi bien, et que pourtant je ne pouvais me r\u00e9soudre. Il revint\n\u00e0 ce que j'avais dit autrefois, et me dit qu'il esp\u00e9rait que ce secret\nn'avait aucun rapport avec les paroles que m'avait arrach\u00e9es la col\u00e8re,\net qu'il avait r\u00e9solu d'oublier tout cela, comme l'effet d'un esprit\nprompt et excit\u00e9. Je lui dis que j'eusse bien voulu pouvoir tout oublier\nmoi aussi, mais que cela ne pouvait se faire, et que l'impression \u00e9tait\ntrop profonde.\nIl me dit alors qu'il \u00e9tait r\u00e9solu \u00e0 ne diff\u00e9rer avec moi en rien, et\nqu'ainsi il ne m'importunerait plus l\u00e0-dessus, et qu'il \u00e9tait pr\u00eat \u00e0\nconsentir \u00e0 tout ce que je dirais ou ferais; mais qu'il me suppliait\nseulement de convenir que, quoi que ce p\u00fbt \u00eatre, notre tendresse l'un\npour l'autre n'en serait plus jamais troubl\u00e9e.\nC'\u00e9tait la chose la plus d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able qu'il p\u00fbt me dire, car vraiment je\nd\u00e9sirais qu'il continu\u00e2t \u00e0 m'importuner afin de m'obliger \u00e0 avouer ce\ndont la dissimulation me semblait \u00eatre la mort; de sorte que je r\u00e9pondis\ntout net que je ne pouvais dire que je serais heureuse de ne plus \u00eatre\nimportun\u00e9e, quoique ne sachant nullement comment c\u00e9der.\n--Mais voyons, mon ami, dis-je, quelles conditions m'accorderez-vous si\nje vous d\u00e9voile cette affaire?\n--Toutes les conditions au monde, dit-il, que vous pourrez en raison me\ndemander.\n--Eh bien, dis-je alors, promettez-moi sous seing que si vous ne trouvez\npas que je sois en faute, ou volontairement m\u00eal\u00e9e aux causes des\nmalheurs, qui vont suivre, vous ne me bl\u00e2merez, ni ne me maltraiterez,\nni ne me ferez injure, ni ne me rendrez victime d'un \u00e9v\u00e9nement qui n'est\npoint survenu par ma faute.\n--C'est, dit-il, la demande la plus raisonnable qui soit au monde, que\nde ne point vous bl\u00e2mer pour ce qui n'est point de votre faute;\ndonnez-moi une plume et de l'encre, dit-il.\nDe sorte que je courus lui chercher plume, encre et papier, et il\nr\u00e9digea la condition dans les termes m\u00eames o\u00f9 je l'avais propos\u00e9e et la\nsigna de son nom.\n--Eh bien, dit-il, et que faut-il encore, ma ch\u00e9rie?\n--Il faut encore, dis-je, que vous ne me bl\u00e2miez pas de ne point vous\navoir d\u00e9couvert le secret avant que je le connusse.\n--Tr\u00e8s juste encore, dit-il; de tout mon coeur. Et il \u00e9crivit \u00e9galement\ncette promesse et la signa.\n--Alors, mon ami, dis-je, je n'ai plus qu'une condition \u00e0 vous imposer,\net c'est que, puisque personne n'y est m\u00eal\u00e9 que vous et moi, vous ne le\nr\u00e9v\u00e9lerez \u00e0 personne au monde, except\u00e9 votre m\u00e8re; et que dans toutes\nles mesures que vous adopterez apr\u00e8s la d\u00e9couverte, puisque j'y suis\nm\u00eal\u00e9e comme vous, quoique aussi innocente que vous-m\u00eame, vous ne vous\nlaisserez point entra\u00eener par la col\u00e8re, et n'agirez en rien \u00e0 mon\npr\u00e9judice ou au pr\u00e9judice de votre m\u00e8re, sans ma connaissance et mon\nconsentement.\nCeci le surprit un peu, et il \u00e9crivit distinctement les paroles, mais\nles lut et les relut \u00e0 plusieurs reprises avant de les signer, h\u00e9sitant\nparfois dans sa lecture, et r\u00e9p\u00e9tant les mots: \u00abAu pr\u00e9judice de ma m\u00e8re!\n\u00e0 votre pr\u00e9judice! Quelle peut \u00eatre cette myst\u00e9rieuse chose?\u00bbPourtant\nenfin il signa.\n--Maintenant, dis-je, mon ami, je ne vous demanderai plus rien sous\nvotre seing, mais comme vous allez ou\u00efr la plus inattendue et\nsurprenante aventure qui soit jamais survenue peut-\u00eatre \u00e0 famille au\nmonde, je vous supplie de me promettre que vous l'entendrez avec calme,\net avec la pr\u00e9sence d'esprit qui convient \u00e0 un homme de sens.\n--Je ferai de mon mieux, dit-il, \u00e0 condition que vous ne me tiendrez\nplus longtemps en suspens, car vous me terrifiez avec tous ces\npr\u00e9liminaires.\n--Eh bien, alors, dis-je, voici: De m\u00eame que je vous ai dit autrefois\ndans l'emportement que je n'\u00e9tais pas votre femme devant la loi et que\nnos enfants n'\u00e9taient pas nos enfants devant la loi, de m\u00eame il faut que\nje vous fasse savoir maintenant, en toute tranquillit\u00e9 et tendresse,\nmais avec assez d'affliction, que je suis votre propre soeur et vous mon\npropre fr\u00e8re, et que nous sommes tous deux les enfants de notre m\u00e8re\naujourd'hui vivante, qui est dans la maison, et qui est convaincue de la\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 de ce que je dis en une mani\u00e8re qui ne peut \u00eatre ni\u00e9e ni\ncontredite.\nJe le vis devenir p\u00e2le, et ses yeux hagards, et je dis:\n--Souvenez-vous maintenant de votre promesse, et conservez votre\npr\u00e9sence d'esprit: qui aurait pu en dire plus long pour vous pr\u00e9parer\nque je n'ai fait?\nCependant j'appelai un serviteur, et lui fis donner un petit verre de\nrhum (qui est le cordial ordinaire de la contr\u00e9e), car il perdait\nconnaissance.\nQuand il fut un peu remis, je lui dis:\n--Cette histoire, comme vous pouvez bien penser, demande une longue\nexplication; ayez donc de la patience et composez votre esprit pour\nl'entendre jusqu'au bout et je la ferai aussi br\u00e8ve que possible.\nEt l\u00e0-dessus je lui dis ce que je croyais n\u00e9cessaire au fait m\u00eame, et,\nen particulier, comment ma m\u00e8re \u00e9tait venue \u00e0 me le d\u00e9couvrir.\n--Et maintenant, mon ami, dis-je, vous voyez la raison de mes\ncapitulations et que je n'ai pas \u00e9t\u00e9 la cause de ce malheur et que je ne\npouvais l'\u00eatre, et que je ne pouvais rien en savoir avant maintenant.\n--J'en suis pleinement assur\u00e9, dit-il, mais c'est une horrible surprise\npour moi; toutefois, je sais un rem\u00e8de qui r\u00e9parera tout, un rem\u00e8de qui\nmettra fin \u00e0 toutes vos difficult\u00e9s, sans que vous partiez pour\nl'Angleterre.\n--Ce serait \u00e9trange, dis-je, comme tout le reste.\n--Non, non, ce sera ais\u00e9; il n'y a d'autre personne qui g\u00eane en tout\nceci que moi-m\u00eame.\nIl avait l'air d'\u00eatre agit\u00e9 par quelque d\u00e9sordre en pronon\u00e7ant ces\nparoles; mais je n'en appr\u00e9hendai rien \u00e0 cet instant, croyant, comme on\ndit d'ordinaire, que ceux qui font de telles choses n'en parlent jamais,\nou que ceux qui en parlent ne les font point.\nMais la douleur n'\u00e9tait pas venue en lui \u00e0 son extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, et j'observai\nqu'il devenait pensif et m\u00e9lancolique et, en un mot, il me sembla que sa\nt\u00eate se troublait un peu. Je m'effor\u00e7ais de le rappeler \u00e0 ses esprits\npar ma conversation en lui exposant une sorte de dessein pour notre\nconduite, et parfois il se trouvait bien, et me r\u00e9pondait avec assez de\ncourage; mais le malheur pesait trop lourdement sur ses pens\u00e9es, et il\nalla jusqu'\u00e0 attenter par deux fois \u00e0 sa propre vie; la seconde, il fut\nsur le point d'\u00e9trangler, et si sa m\u00e8re n'\u00e9tait pas entr\u00e9e dans la\nchambre \u00e0 l'instant m\u00eame, il f\u00fbt mort; mais avec l'aide d'un serviteur\nn\u00e8gre, elle coupa la corde et le rappela \u00e0 la vie.\nEnfin, gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 une inlassable importunit\u00e9, mon mari dont la sant\u00e9\nparaissait d\u00e9cliner se laissa persuader; et mon destin me poussant, je\ntrouvai la route libre; et par l'intercession de ma m\u00e8re, j'obtins une\nexcellente cargaison pour la rapporter en Angleterre.\nQuand je me s\u00e9parai de mon fr\u00e8re (car c'est ainsi que je dois maintenant\nle nommer), nous conv\u00eenmes qu'apr\u00e8s que je serais arriv\u00e9e, il feindrait\nde recevoir la nouvelle que j'\u00e9tais morte en Angleterre et qu'ainsi il\npourrait se remarier quand il voudrait; il s'engagea \u00e0 correspondre avec\nmoi comme sa soeur, et promit de m'aider et de me soutenir tant que je\nvivrais; et que s'il mourait avant moi, il laisserait assez de bien pour\nm'entretenir sous le nom de sa soeur; et sous quelques rapports il fut\nfid\u00e8le \u00e0 sa parole; mais tout fut si \u00e9trangement men\u00e9 que j'en \u00e9prouvai\nfort sensiblement les d\u00e9ceptions, comme vous saurez bient\u00f4t.\nJe partis au mois d'ao\u00fbt, apr\u00e8s \u00eatre rest\u00e9e huit ans dans cette\ncontr\u00e9e; et maintenant une nouvelle sc\u00e8ne de malheurs m'attendait; peu\nde femmes peut-\u00eatre ont travers\u00e9 la pareille.\nNous f\u00eemes assez bon voyage, jusqu'au moment de toucher la c\u00f4te\nd'Angleterre, ce qui fut au bout de trente et deux jours, que nous f\u00fbmes\nsecou\u00e9s par deux ou trois temp\u00eates, dont l'une nous chassa sur la c\u00f4te\nd'Irlande, o\u00f9 nous rel\u00e2ch\u00e2mes \u00e0 Kinsale. L\u00e0 nous rest\u00e2mes environ treize\njours, et, apr\u00e8s nous \u00eatre rafra\u00eechis \u00e0 terre, nous nous embarqu\u00e2mes de\nnouveau, mais trouv\u00e2mes de nouveau du fort mauvais temps, o\u00f9 le vaisseau\nrompit son grand m\u00e2t, comme ils disent; mais nous entr\u00e2mes enfin au port\nde Milford, en Cornouailles o\u00f9, bien que je fusse tr\u00e8s loin de notre\nport de destination, pourtant ayant mis s\u00fbrement le pied sur le sol\nferme de l'\u00eele de Bretagne, je r\u00e9solus de ne plus m'aventurer sur les\neaux qui m'avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 si terribles; de sorte qu'emmenant \u00e0 terre mes\nhardes et mon argent, avec mes billets de chargement et d'autres\npapiers, je r\u00e9solus de gagner Londres et de laisser le navire aller\ntrouver son port; le port auquel il \u00e9tait attach\u00e9 \u00e9tait Bristol, o\u00f9\nvivait le principal correspondant de mon fr\u00e8re.\nJ'arrivai \u00e0 Londres au bout d'environ trois semaines, o\u00f9 j'appris, un\npeu apr\u00e8s, que le navire \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 Bristol, mais en m\u00eame temps\nj'eus la douleur d'\u00eatre inform\u00e9e que par la violente temp\u00eate qu'il avait\nsupport\u00e9e, et le bris du grand m\u00e2t, il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 fortement avari\u00e9, et\nqu'une grande partie de la cargaison \u00e9tait toute g\u00e2t\u00e9e.\nJ'avais maintenant une nouvelle sc\u00e8ne de vie sur les mains, et qui avait\nune affreuse apparence; j'\u00e9tais partie avec une sorte d'adieu final; le\nchargement que j'avais apport\u00e9 avec moi \u00e9tait consid\u00e9rable, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9,\ns'il f\u00fbt arriv\u00e9 en bon \u00e9tat, et par son aide, j'eusse pu me remarier\nsuffisamment bien; mais, comme il \u00e9tait, j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9duite en tout \u00e0 deux\nou trois cents livres, et sans aucun espoir de renfort. J'\u00e9tais\nenti\u00e8rement sans amis, oui, m\u00eame sans connaissances; car je trouvai\nqu'il \u00e9tait absolument n\u00e9cessaire de ne pas raviver les connaissances\nd'autrefois; et pour ma subtile amie qui m'avait dispos\u00e9e jadis \u00e0 happer\nune fortune, elle \u00e9tait morte et son mari aussi.\nLe soin de ma cargaison de marchandises m'obligea bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s \u00e0 faire\nle voyage de Bristol, et pendant que je m'occupais de cette affaire, je\nme donnai le divertissement d'aller \u00e0 Bath; car ainsi que j'\u00e9tais encore\nloin d'\u00eatre vieille, ainsi mon humeur, qui avait toujours \u00e9t\u00e9 gaie,\ncontinuait de l'\u00eatre \u00e0 l'extr\u00eame; et moi qui \u00e9tais, maintenant, en\nquelque fa\u00e7on, une femme de fortune, quoique je fusse une femme sans\nfortune, j'esp\u00e9rais voir tomber sur mon chemin une chose ou une autre\nqui p\u00fbt am\u00e9liorer ma condition, ainsi qu'il \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 jadis.\nBath est un lieu d'assez de galanterie, co\u00fbteux et rempli de pi\u00e8ges; j'y\nallais, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, \u00e0 seule fin de saisir ce qui s'offrirait, mais je\ndois me rendre la justice d'affirmer que je n'avais d'autres intentions\nque d'honn\u00eates, et que je n'\u00e9tais point d'abord hant\u00e9e par les pens\u00e9es\nqui me men\u00e8rent ensuite sur la route o\u00f9 je souffris de me laisser guider\npar elles.\nL\u00e0 je restai toute l'arri\u00e8re-saison, comme on dit l\u00e0-bas, et j'y nouai\nde mis\u00e9rables liaisons qui plut\u00f4t me pouss\u00e8rent aux folies o\u00f9 je tombai\nqu'elles ne me fortifi\u00e8rent \u00e0 l'encontre. Je vivais en agr\u00e9ment,\nrecevais de la bonne soci\u00e9t\u00e9, je veux dire une soci\u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9licate et\njoyeuse; mais je d\u00e9couvris avec d\u00e9couragement que cette fa\u00e7on de vivre\nme ferait rapidement sombrer, et que n'ayant point de revenu fixe, en\nd\u00e9pensant sur le capital, je ne faisais que m'assurer de saigner \u00e0 mort\net ceci me donna beaucoup de tristes r\u00e9flexions. Toutefois je les\nsecouai, et me flattai encore de l'espoir qu'une chose ou une autre se\npr\u00e9senterait \u00e0 mon avantage.\nMais je n'\u00e9tais point dans le lieu qu'il fallait; je n'\u00e9tais plus \u00e0\nRedriff, o\u00f9, si je me fusse convenablement \u00e9tablie, quelque honn\u00eate\ncapitaine marin ou autre e\u00fbt pu me solliciter d'honorable mariage; mais\nj'\u00e9tais \u00e0 Bath, o\u00f9 les hommes trouvent une ma\u00eetresse parfois, mais bien\nrarement viennent chercher une femme; et il s'ensuit que toutes les\nliaisons priv\u00e9es qu'une femme peut y esp\u00e9rer doivent avoir quelque\ntendance de cette sorte.\nJ'avais pass\u00e9 suffisamment bien le d\u00e9but de la saison car bien que\nj'eusse nou\u00e9 liaison avec un gentilhomme qui venait \u00e0 Bath pour se\ndivertir, je n'avais point consenti de trait\u00e9 pernicieux. Mais cette\npremi\u00e8re saison m'amena pourtant \u00e0 faire la connaissance d'une femme\ndans la maison de qui je logeais, qui ne tenait point une mauvaise\nmaison, certes, mais qui n'\u00e9tait pas elle-m\u00eame, remplie des meilleurs\nprincipes. Je m'\u00e9tais, \u00e0 toutes occasions, conduite avec tant\nd'honn\u00eatet\u00e9, que ma r\u00e9putation n'avait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 touch\u00e9e par la moindre\nsouillure, et tous les hommes avec qui j'avais fr\u00e9quent\u00e9 \u00e9taient de si\nbonne renomm\u00e9e, que je n'avais pas obtenu le moindre bl\u00e2me sur ces\nliaisons; aucun d'eux ne semblait penser qu'il y e\u00fbt nul moyen de\nproposer rien de mal. Toutefois, il y avait, ainsi que je l'ai dit, un\nseul gentilhomme qui me remarquait sans cesse et se divertissait en ma\ncompagnie, comme il l'appelait, laquelle, comme il lui plaisait \u00e0 dire,\nlui \u00e9tait fort agr\u00e9able, mais \u00e0 ce moment il n'y eut rien de plus.\nJe passai bien des heures m\u00e9lancoliques \u00e0 Bath apr\u00e8s que toute la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9 eut quitt\u00e9 la ville, car bien que j'allasse parfois \u00e0 Bristol\npour disposer mes affaires et prendre quelque argent, cependant il me\nsemblait pr\u00e9f\u00e9rable de retourner \u00e0 Bath et d'en faire ma r\u00e9sidence,\nparce qu'\u00e9tant en bons termes avec la femme chez qui j'avais log\u00e9 l'\u00e9t\u00e9,\nje trouvai qu'en hiver je pouvais y vivre \u00e0 meilleur march\u00e9 que partout\nailleurs. Ici, dis-je, je passai l'hiver aussi tristement que j'avais\njoyeusement pass\u00e9 l'\u00e9t\u00e9; mais ayant nou\u00e9 une intimit\u00e9 plus \u00e9troite avec\nla femme dans la maison de qui je logeais, je ne pus m'emp\u00eacher de lui\ncommuniquer quelqu'une des choses qui me pesaient le plus lourdement sur\nl'esprit, et, en particulier, la pauvret\u00e9 de ma condition; je lui dis\naussi que j'avais en Virginie ma m\u00e8re et mon fr\u00e8re, qui \u00e9taient dans une\nsituation ais\u00e9e, et comme j'avais v\u00e9ritablement \u00e9crite ma m\u00e8re une\nlettre priv\u00e9e pour lui repr\u00e9senter ma condition et la grande perte que\nj'avais subie, ainsi ne manquai-je point de faire savoir \u00e0 ma nouvelle\namie que j'attendais un envoi de fonds, ce qui \u00e9tait v\u00e9ritable; et comme\nles navires allaient de Bristol \u00e0 la rivi\u00e8re de York, en Virginie, et\nretour, d'ordinaire en moins de temps que ceux qui partaient pour\nLondres, et que mon fr\u00e8re correspondait principalement avec Bristol, je\ncrus qu'il \u00e9tait bien pr\u00e9f\u00e9rable d'attendre mes envois l\u00e0 o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais que\nd'aller \u00e0 Londres.\nMa nouvelle amie parut fort sensiblement \u00e9mue de ma condition, et, en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, elle eut la bont\u00e9 de r\u00e9duire le prix qu'il me co\u00fbtait pour vivre\navec elle, jusqu'\u00e0 \u00eatre si bas pendant l'hiver, que je me persuadai\nqu'elle ne gagnait rien sur moi; pour le logement, durant l'hiver, je ne\npayai rien du tout.\nQuand survint la saison du printemps, elle continua de se montrer\ngracieuse au possible, et je logeai chez elle un certain temps, jusqu'\u00e0\nce que je trouvai n\u00e9cessaire d'agir diff\u00e9remment; elle avait quelques\npersonnes de marque qui logeaient fr\u00e9quemment dans sa maison, et en\nparticulier le gentilhomme qui, ainsi que je l'ai dit, avait recherch\u00e9\nma soci\u00e9t\u00e9 l'hiver d'avant; il revint en compagnie d'un autre\ngentilhomme et de deux domestiques, et logea dans la m\u00eame maison; je\nsoup\u00e7onnai ma propri\u00e9taire de l'avoir invit\u00e9, en lui faisant savoir que\nj'habitais toujours avec elle, mais elle le nia.\nCe gentilhomme arriva donc et continua de me remarquer et de me\nt\u00e9moigner une confiance particuli\u00e8re; c'\u00e9tait un v\u00e9ritable gentilhomme,\nje dois l'avouer, et sa soci\u00e9t\u00e9 m'\u00e9tait aussi agr\u00e9able que la mienne, je\ncrois, pouvait l'\u00eatre pour lui; il ne me fit d'autres professions que\nd'extraordinaire respect, et il avait une telle opinion de ma vertu,\nqu'ainsi qu'il le d\u00e9clarait souvent, il pensait que s'il proposait rien\nd'autre, je le repousserais avec m\u00e9pris; il eut bient\u00f4t appris par moi\nque j'\u00e9tais veuve, que j'\u00e9tais arriv\u00e9e de Virginie \u00e0 Bristol par les\nderniers navires, et que j'attendais \u00e0 Bath la venue de la prochaine\nflottille de Virginie qui devait m'apporter des biens consid\u00e9rables;\nj'appris par lui qu'il avait une femme, mais que la dame avait la t\u00eate\ntroubl\u00e9e, et qu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 plac\u00e9e sous le gouvernement de ses\npropres parents, \u00e0 quoi il avait consenti, pour emp\u00eacher tout bl\u00e2me \u00e0\nl'endroit du mauvais m\u00e9nagement de la cure; et que, cependant, il \u00e9tait\nvenu \u00e0 Bath pour se r\u00e9cr\u00e9er l'esprit dans des circonstances si\nm\u00e9lancoliques.\nMa propri\u00e9taire qui, de son propre gr\u00e9, encourageait cette liaison en\ntoutes occasions, me fit de lui un portrait fort avantageux, comme d'un\nhomme d'honneur et de vertu, autant que de grande fortune; et, en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, j'avais bonne raison de le croire, car bien que nous fussions\nlog\u00e9s tous deux de plain-pied, et qu'il f\u00fbt souvent entr\u00e9 dans ma\nchambre, m\u00eame quand j'\u00e9tais au lit, ainsi que moi dans la sienne, il ne\ns'\u00e9tait jamais avanc\u00e9 au del\u00e0 d'un baiser, ou ne m'avait sollicit\u00e9e m\u00eame\nde chose autre, jusque longtemps apr\u00e8s, comme vous l'entendrez.\nJe faisais fr\u00e9quemment \u00e0 ma propri\u00e9taire des remarques sur l'exc\u00e8s de sa\nmodestie, et de son c\u00f4t\u00e9 elle m'assurait qu'elle n'en \u00e9tait pas\nsurprise, l'ayant aper\u00e7u d\u00e8s l'abord; toutefois, elle me r\u00e9p\u00e9tait\nqu'elle pensait que je devais attendre quelques gratifications de lui,\nen faveur de ma soci\u00e9t\u00e9, car en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 il semblait qu'il f\u00fbt toujours \u00e0\nmes trousses. Je lui r\u00e9pondis que je ne lui avais pas donn\u00e9 la moindre\noccasion d'imaginer que j'en eusse besoin ou que je dusse rien accepter\nde sa part; mais elle m'assura qu'elle s'en chargerait, et elle mena\nl'affaire avec tant de dext\u00e9rit\u00e9, que la premi\u00e8re fois que nous f\u00fbmes\nseuls ensemble, apr\u00e8s qu'elle lui eut parl\u00e9, il se mit \u00e0 s'enqu\u00e9rir de\nma condition, comment je m'\u00e9tais entretenue depuis mon d\u00e9barquement, et\nsi je n'avais point besoin d'argent.\nJe pris une attitude fort hardie; je lui dis que, bien que ma cargaison\nde tabac f\u00fbt avari\u00e9e, toutefois elle n'\u00e9tait pas enti\u00e8rement perdue; que\nle marchand auquel j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 consign\u00e9e m'avait trait\u00e9e avec tant\nd'honn\u00eatet\u00e9, que je n'avais point \u00e9prouv\u00e9 de besoin, et que j'esp\u00e9rais\npar gouvernement frugal faire durer ce que je poss\u00e9dais jusqu'\u00e0 recevoir\nun autre envoi que j'attendais par la prochaine flotte; que cependant\nj'avais retranch\u00e9 sur mes d\u00e9penses, et qu'au lieu qu'\u00e0 la saison\nderni\u00e8re j'avais entretenu une servante, maintenant je m'en passais; et\nqu'au lieu que j'avais alors une chambre avec une salle \u00e0 manger au\npremier \u00e9tage, je n'avais maintenant qu'une chambre au second, et\nd'autres choses semblables. \u00abMais je vis, dis-je, aussi bien satisfaite\naujourd'hui qu'auparavant;\u00bb ajoutant que sa soci\u00e9t\u00e9 m'avait port\u00e9e \u00e0\nvivre bien plus gaiement que je n'eusse fait autrement, de quoi je lui\n\u00e9tais fort oblig\u00e9e; et ainsi, j'\u00e9cartai toute proposition pour\nl'instant.\nIl ne se passa pas longtemps qu'il m'entreprit de nouveau, et me dit\nqu'il trouvait que je r\u00e9pugnais \u00e0 lui confier la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de ma condition,\nce dont il \u00e9tait f\u00e2ch\u00e9, m'assurant qu'il s'en informait sans dessein de\nsatisfaire sa curiosit\u00e9, mais simplement pour m'aider, si l'occasion\ns'en offrait. Mais que, puisque je n'osais avouer que j'avais besoin\nd'assistance, il n'avait qu'une chose \u00e0 me demander, qui \u00e9tait de lui\npromettre si j'\u00e9tais en quelque mani\u00e8re g\u00ean\u00e9e, de le lui dire\nfranchement, et d'user de lui avec la m\u00eame libert\u00e9 qu'il en faisait\nl'offre, ajoutant que je trouverais toujours en lui un ami d\u00e9vou\u00e9,\nquoique peut-\u00eatre j'\u00e9prouvasse la crainte de me fier \u00e0 lui.\nJe n'omis rien de ce qui convenait qui f\u00fbt dit par une personne\ninfiniment oblig\u00e9e, pour lui faire comprendre que j'\u00e9prouvais fort\nvivement sa g\u00e9n\u00e9rosit\u00e9; et, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, \u00e0 partir de ce moment, je ne\nparus pas si r\u00e9serv\u00e9e avec lui qu'auparavant, quoique nous tenant encore\ndes deux parts dans les limites de la plus stricte vertu; mais combien\nlibre que f\u00fbt notre conversation, je n'en pus venir \u00e0 cette libert\u00e9\nqu'il d\u00e9sirait, et qui \u00e9tait de lui dire que j'avais besoin d'argent,\nquoique secr\u00e8tement je fusse bien heureuse de son offre.\nQuelques semaines pass\u00e8rent l\u00e0-dessus, et toujours je ne lui demandais\npoint d'argent; quand ma propri\u00e9taire, une rus\u00e9e cr\u00e9ature, qui m'en\navait souvent press\u00e9e, mais trouvait que je ne pouvais le faire,\nfabrique une histoire de sa propre invention et vient cr\u00fbment \u00e0 moi\npendant que nous \u00e9tions ensemble:\n--Oh! veuve, dit-elle, j'ai de mauvaises nouvelles \u00e0 vous apprendre ce\nmatin.\n--Et qu'y a-t-il? dis-je. Est-ce que les navires de Virginie ont \u00e9t\u00e9\npris par les Fran\u00e7ais?\nCar c'est ce que je redoutais.\n--Non, non, dit-elle, mais l'homme que vous avez envoy\u00e9e \u00e0 Bristol hier\npour chercher de l'argent est revenu, et dit qu'il n'en a point\nrapport\u00e9.\nJe n'\u00e9tais nullement satisfaite de son projet; je pensais que cela\naurait trop l'apparence de le pousser, ce dont il n'y avait aucun\nbesoin, et je vis que je ne perdrais rien en feignant de me refuser au\njeu, de sorte que je la repris de court:\n--Je ne puis m'imaginer pourquoi il aurait ainsi parl\u00e9, dis-je, puisque\nje vous assure qu'il m'a apport\u00e9 tout l'argent que je l'avais envoy\u00e9\nchercher, et le voici, dis-je, tirant ma bourse o\u00f9 il y avait environ\ndouze guin\u00e9es. Et d'ailleurs, ajoutai-je, j'ai l'intention de vous en\ndonner la plus grande partie tout \u00e0 l'heure.\nIl avait paru un peu m\u00e9content\u00e9 de sa fa\u00e7on de parler, autant que moi;\ntrouvant, ainsi que je pensais bien, qu'elle prenait un peu trop de\nlibert\u00e9; mais quand il vit la r\u00e9ponse que je lui faisais, il se remit\nsur-le-champ. Le lendemain matin nous en reparl\u00e2mes, et je le trouvai\npleinement satisfait. Il me dit en souriant qu'il esp\u00e9rait que je ne me\nlaisserais point manquer d'argent sans le lui dire, et que je lui avais\npromis le contraire; je lui r\u00e9pondis que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 fort vex\u00e9e de ce\nque ma propri\u00e9taire e\u00fbt parl\u00e9 si ouvertement la veille d'une chose o\u00f9\nelle n'avait point \u00e0 se m\u00ealer; mais que j'avais suppos\u00e9 qu'elle d\u00e9sirait\n\u00eatre pay\u00e9e de ce que je lui devais, qui \u00e9tait environ huit guin\u00e9es, que\nj'avais r\u00e9solu de lui donner et lui avais donn\u00e9es la m\u00eame nuit.\nIl fut dans une extraordinaire bonne humeur quand il m'entendit dire que\nje l'avais pay\u00e9e, puis passa \u00e0 quelque autre discours pour le moment;\nmais le lendemain matin, ayant entendu que j'\u00e9tais lev\u00e9e avant lui, il\nm'appela, et je lui r\u00e9pondis. Il me demanda d'entrer dans sa chambre; il\n\u00e9tait au lit quand j'entrai, et il me fit venir m'asseoir sur le bord du\nlit, car il me dit qu'il avait quelque chose \u00e0 me dire. Apr\u00e8s quelques\nexpressions fort tendres, il me demanda si je voulais me montrer bien\nhonn\u00eate et donner une r\u00e9ponse sinc\u00e8re \u00e0 une chose dont il me priait.\nApr\u00e8s une petite chicane sur le mot \u00absinc\u00e8re\u00bb, et lui avoir demand\u00e9 si\njamais je lui avais donn\u00e9 des r\u00e9ponses qui ne fussent pas sinc\u00e8res, je\nlui fis la promesse qu'il voulait. Eh bien, alors, sa pri\u00e8re \u00e9tait,\ndit-il, de lui faire voir ma bourse; je mis aussit\u00f4t ma main dans ma\npoche, et riant de lui, je tirai la bourse o\u00f9 il y avait trois guin\u00e9es\net demie; alors il me demanda si c'\u00e9tait tout l'argent que j'avais; je\nlui dis: \u00abNon\u00bb, riant encore, \u00abil s'en faut de beaucoup.\u00bb\nEh bien, alors, dit-il, il fallait lui promettre d'aller lui chercher\ntout l'argent que j'avais, jusqu'au dernier fardin; je lui dis que\nj'allais le faire, et j'entrai dans ma chambre d'o\u00f9 je lui rapportai un\npetit tiroir secret o\u00f9 j'avais environ six guin\u00e9es de plus et un peu de\nmonnaie d'argent, et je renversai tout sur le lit, et lui dis que\nc'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 toute ma fortune, honn\u00eatement \u00e0 un shilling pr\u00e8s; il regarda\nl'argent un peu de temps, mais ne le compta pas, puis le brouilla et le\nremit p\u00eale-m\u00eale dans le tiroir; ensuite, atteignant sa poche, il en tira\nune clef, et me pria d'ouvrir une petite bo\u00eete en bois de noyer qu'il\navait sur la table, et de lui rapporter tel tiroir, ce que je fis; dans\nce tiroir il y avait une grande quantit\u00e9 de monnaie en or, je crois pr\u00e8s\nde deux cents guin\u00e9es, mais je ne pus savoir combien. Il prit le tiroir\net, me tenant par la main, il me la fit mettre dedans, et en prendre une\npleine poign\u00e9e; je ne voulais point, et me d\u00e9robais; mais il me serrait\nla main fermement dans la sienne et il la mit dans le tiroir, et il m'y\nfit prendre autant de guin\u00e9es presque que j'en pus tenir \u00e0 la fois.\nQuand je l'eus fait, il me les fit mettre dans mon giron, et prit mon\npetit tiroir et versa tout mon argent parmi le sien, puis me dit de m'en\naller bien vite et d'emporter tout cela dans ma chambre.\nJe rapporte cette histoire plus particuli\u00e8rement \u00e0 cause de sa bonne\nhumeur, et pour montrer le ton qu'il y avait dans nos conversations. Ce\nne fut pas longtemps apr\u00e8s qu'il commen\u00e7a chaque jour de trouver des\nd\u00e9fauts \u00e0 mes habits, \u00e0 mes dentelles, \u00e0 mes coiffes; et, en un mot, il\nme pressa d'en acheter de plus beaux, ce dont j'avais assez d'envie,\nd'ailleurs, quoique je ne le fisse point para\u00eetre; je n'aimais rien\nmieux au monde que les beaux habits, mais je lui dis qu'il me fallait\nbien m\u00e9nager l'argent qu'il m'avait pr\u00eat\u00e9, sans quoi je ne pourrais\njamais le lui rendre. Il me dit alors en peu de paroles que comme il\navait un sinc\u00e8re respect pour moi, et qu'il connaissait ma condition, il\nne m'avait pas pr\u00eat\u00e9 cet argent, mais me l'avait donn\u00e9, et qu'il pensait\nque je l'eusse bien m\u00e9rit\u00e9, lui ayant accord\u00e9 ma soci\u00e9t\u00e9 aussi\nenti\u00e8rement que je l'avais fait. Apr\u00e8s cela, il me fit prendre une\nservante et tenir la maison et, son ami \u00e9tant parti, il m'obligea \u00e0\nprendre le gouvernement de son m\u00e9nage, ce que je fis fort volontiers,\npersuad\u00e9e, comme il parut bien, que je n'y perdrais rien, et la femme\nqui nous logeait ne manqua point non plus d'y trouver son compte.\nNous avions v\u00e9cu ainsi pr\u00e8s de trois mois, quand la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 de Bath\ncommen\u00e7ant \u00e0 s'\u00e9claircir, il parla de s'en aller, et il \u00e9tait fort\nd\u00e9sireux de m'emmener avec lui \u00e0 Londres; j'\u00e9tais assez troubl\u00e9e de\ncette proposition, ne sachant pas dans quelle position j'allais m'y\ntrouver, ou comment il me traiterait; mais tandis que l'affaire \u00e9tait en\nlitige, il se trouva fort indispos\u00e9; il \u00e9tait all\u00e9 dans un endroit du\nSomersetshire qu'on nomme Shepton; et l\u00e0 il tomba tr\u00e8s malade, si malade\nqu'il ne pouvait voyager: si bien qu'il renvoya son laquais \u00e0 Bath pour\nme prier de louer un carrosse et de venir le trouver. Avant de partir il\nm'avait confi\u00e9 son argent et autres choses de valeur, et je ne savais\nqu'en faire; mais je les serrai du mieux que je pus, et fermai le\nlogement \u00e0 clef; puis je partis et le trouvai bien malade en effet, de\nsorte que je lui persuadai de se faire transporter en chaise \u00e0 porteurs\n\u00e0 Bath, o\u00f9 nous pourrions trouver plus d'aide et meilleurs conseils.\nIl y consentit et je le ramenai \u00e0 Bath, qui \u00e9tait \u00e0 environ quinze\nlieues, autant que je m'en souviens; l\u00e0 il continua d'\u00eatre fort malade\nd'une fi\u00e8vre, et garda le lit cinq semaines; et tout ce temps je le\nsoignai et le dorlotai avec autant de tendresse que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 sa\nfemme; en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, si j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 sa femme, je n'aurais pu faire\ndavantage; je restais assise aupr\u00e8s de lui si longtemps et si souvent,\nqu'\u00e0 la fin il ne voulut pas que je restasse assise davantage; en sorte\nque je fis mettre un lit de veille dans sa chambre, et que je m'y\ncouchai, juste au pied de son lit.\nJ'\u00e9tais vraiment sensiblement affect\u00e9e de sa condition et des\nappr\u00e9hensions de perdre un ami tel qu'il \u00e9tait et tel qu'il serait sans\ndoute pour moi; et je restais assise \u00e0 pleurer pr\u00e8s de lui pendant bien\ndes heures; enfin il alla mieux, et donna quelque espoir, ainsi qu'il\narriva d'ailleurs, mais tr\u00e8s lentement.\nS'il en \u00e9tait autrement que je ne vais dire, je ne r\u00e9pugnerais pas \u00e0 le\nr\u00e9v\u00e9ler, comme il est apparent que j'ai fait en d'autres cas; mais\nj'affirme qu'\u00e0 travers toute cette liaison, except\u00e9 pour ce qui est\nd'entrer dans la chambre quand lui ou moi nous \u00e9tions au lit, et de\nl'office n\u00e9cessaire des soins de nuit et de jour quand il fut malade, il\nn'avait point pass\u00e9 entre nous la moindre parole ou action impure. Oh!\nsi tout f\u00fbt rest\u00e9 de m\u00eame jusqu'\u00e0 la fin!\nApr\u00e8s quelque temps, il reprit des forces et se remit assez vite, et\nj'aurais enlev\u00e9 mon lit de veille, mais il ne voulut pas me le\npermettre, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il p\u00fbt s'aventurer sans personne pour le\ngarder, et alors je repris quartier dans ma chambre.\nIl saisit mainte occasion d'exprimer le sens qu'il avait de ma tendresse\npour lui; et quand il fut bien, il me fit pr\u00e9sent de cinquante guin\u00e9es\npour me remercier de mes soins, et d'avoir, comme il disait, risqu\u00e9 ma\nvie pour sauver la sienne.\nEt maintenant il fit de profondes protestations de l'affection sinc\u00e8re\net inviolable qu'il me portait, mais avec la plus extr\u00eame r\u00e9serve pour\nma vertu et la sienne; je lui dis que j'\u00e9tais pleinement satisfaite\nl\u00e0-dessus; il alla jusqu'au point de m'assurer que s'il \u00e9tait tout nu au\nlit avec moi, il pr\u00e9serverait aussi saintement ma vertu qu'il la\nd\u00e9fendrait si j'\u00e9tais assaillie par un ravisseur. Je le crus, et le lui\ndis, mais il n'en fut pas satisfait; il voulait, disait-il, attendre\nquelque occasion de m'en donner un t\u00e9moignage indubitable.\nCe fut longtemps apr\u00e8s que j'eus l'occasion, pour mes affaires, d'aller\n\u00e0 Bristol; sur quoi il me loua un carrosse, et voulut partir avec moi;\net maintenant, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, notre intimit\u00e9 s'accrut. De Bristol, il\nm'emmena \u00e0 Gloucester, ce qui \u00e9tait simplement un voyage de plaisance,\npour prendre l'air, et l\u00e0, par fortune, nous ne trouv\u00e2mes de logement \u00e0\nl'h\u00f4tellerie que dans une grande chambre \u00e0 deux lits. Le ma\u00eetre de la\nmaison allant avec nous pour nous montrer ses chambres, et arrivant dans\ncelle-ci, lui dit avec beaucoup de franchise:\n--Monsieur, ce n'est point mon affaire de m'enqu\u00e9rir si cette dame est\nvotre \u00e9pouse ou non; mais sinon, vous pouvez aussi honn\u00eatement coucher\ndans ces deux lits que si vous \u00e9tiez dans deux chambres.\nEt l\u00e0-dessus il tire un grand rideau qui s'\u00e9tendait tout au travers de\nla chambre, et qui s\u00e9parait les lits en effet.\n--Eh bien, dit mon ami, tr\u00e8s au point, ces lits feront l'affaire; pour\nle reste, nous sommes trop proches parents pour coucher ensemble,\nquoique nous puissions loger l'un pr\u00e8s de l'autre.\nEt ceci jeta sur toute la chose une sorte d'apparence d'honn\u00eatet\u00e9. Quand\nnous en v\u00eenmes \u00e0 nous mettre au lit il sortit d\u00e9cemment de la chambre,\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que je fusse couch\u00e9e, et puis se mit au lit dans l'autre lit,\nd'o\u00f9 il me parla, s'\u00e9tant \u00e9tendu, assez longtemps.\nEnfin, r\u00e9p\u00e9tant ce qu'il disait d'ordinaire, qu'il pouvait se mettre au\nlit tout nu avec moi, sans me faire le moindre outrage, il saute hors de\nson lit:\n--Et maintenant, ma ch\u00e9rie vous allez voir combien je vais \u00eatre juste\npour vous, et que je sais tenir parole.\nEt le voil\u00e0 venir jusqu'\u00e0 mon lit.\nJe fis quelque r\u00e9sistance, mais je dois avouer que je ne lui eusse pas\nr\u00e9sist\u00e9 beaucoup, m\u00eame s'il n'e\u00fbt fait nulle de ces promesses; si bien\nqu'apr\u00e8s une petite lutte, je restai tranquille, et le laissai entrer\ndans le lit; quand, il s'y fut couch\u00e9, il m'entoura de ses bras, et\nainsi je couchai toute la nuit pr\u00e8s de lui; mais il ne me fit rien de\nplus ou ne tenta rien d'autre que de m'embrasser, dis-je, dans ses bras,\nnon vraiment, et de toute la nuit; mais se leva et s'habilla le matin,\net me laissa aussi innocente pour lui que le jour o\u00f9 je fus n\u00e9e....\nJ'accorde que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une noble action, mais comme c'\u00e9tait ce que je\nn'avais jamais vu avant, ainsi me plongea-t-elle dans une parfaite\nstupeur. Nous f\u00eemes le reste du voyage dans les m\u00eames conditions\nqu'avant, et nous rev\u00eenmes \u00e0 Bath, o\u00f9, comme il avait occasion d'entrer\nchez moi quand il voulait, il r\u00e9p\u00e9ta souvent la m\u00eame mod\u00e9ration, et\nfr\u00e9quemment je couchai avec lui; et bien que toutes les familiarit\u00e9s de\nmari et femme nous fussent habituelles cependant jamais il n'offrit\nd'aller plus loin, et il en tirait grande vanit\u00e9. Je ne dis pas que j'en\n\u00e9tais aussi enti\u00e8rement charm\u00e9e qu'il pensait que je fusse, car j'avoue\nque j'\u00e9tais bien plus vicieuse que lui.\nNous v\u00e9c\u00fbmes ainsi pr\u00e8s de deux ans et avec la seule exception qu'il se\nrendit trois fois \u00e0 Londres durant ce temps, et qu'une fois il y\ns\u00e9journa quatre mois; mais, pour lui rendre justice, il ne cessa de me\ndonner de l'argent pour m'entretenir fort bellement.\nSi nous avions continu\u00e9 ainsi, j'avoue que nous aurions eu bonne raison\nde nous vanter; mais, disent les sages, il ne faut point s'aventurer\ntrop pr\u00e8s du bord d'un commandement; et ainsi nous le trouv\u00e2mes; et ici\nencore je dois lui rendre la justice d'avouer que la premi\u00e8re infraction\nne fut pas sur sa part. Ce fut une nuit que nous \u00e9tions au lit, bien\nchaudement, joyeux, et ayant bu, je pense, tous deux un peu plus que\nd'ordinaire, quoique nullement assez pour nous troubler, que je lui dis\n(je le r\u00e9p\u00e8te avec bont\u00e9 et horreur d'\u00e2me) que je pouvais trouver dans\nmon coeur de le d\u00e9gager de sa promesse pour une nuit et point davantage.\nIl me prit au mot sur-le-champ, et apr\u00e8s cela, il n'y eut plus moyen de\nlui r\u00e9sister, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je n'avais point envie de lui r\u00e9sister plus\nlongtemps.\nAinsi fut rompu le gouvernement de notre vertu, et j'\u00e9changeai la place\nd'amie pour ce titre mal harmonieux et de son rauque, qui est _catin_.\nLe matin nous f\u00fbmes tous deux \u00e0 nos repentailles; je pleurai de tout\ncoeur, et lui-m\u00eame reconnut son chagrin; mais c'est tout ce que nous\npouvions faire l'un et l'autre; et la route \u00e9tant ainsi d\u00e9barrass\u00e9e, les\nbarri\u00e8res de la vertu et de la conscience renvers\u00e9es, nous e\u00fbmes \u00e0\nlutter contre moins d'obstacles.\nCe fut une morne sorte de conversation que nous entret\u00eenmes ensemble le\nreste de cette semaine; je le regardais avec des rougeurs; et d'un\nmoment \u00e0 l'autre je soulevais cette objection m\u00e9lancolique: \u00abEt si\nj'allais \u00eatre grosse, maintenant? Que deviendrais-je alors?\u00bbIl\nm'encourageait en me disant que, tant que je lui serais fid\u00e8le, il me le\nresterait; et que, puisque nous en \u00e9tions venus l\u00e0, ce qu'en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 il\nn'avait jamais entendu, si je me trouvais grosse, il prendrait soin de\nl'enfant autant que de moi. Ceci nous renfor\u00e7a tous deux: je lui assurai\nque si j'\u00e9tais grosse, je mourrais par manque de sage-femme, plut\u00f4t que\nde le nommer comme p\u00e8re de l'enfant, et il m'assura que je ne serais en\nfaute de rien, si je venais \u00e0 \u00eatre grosse. Ces assurances r\u00e9ciproques\nnous endurcirent, et ensuite nous r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e2mes notre crime tant qu'il nous\nplut, jusqu'enfin ce que je craignais arriva, et je me trouvai grosse.\nApr\u00e8s que j'en fus s\u00fbre, et que je l'eus satisfait l\u00e0-dessus, nous\ncommen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 songer \u00e0 prendre des mesures pour nous conduire \u00e0 cette\naffaire, et je lui proposai de confier le secret \u00e0 ma propri\u00e9taire, et\nde lui demander un conseil, \u00e0 quoi il s'accorda; ma propri\u00e9taire, femme,\nainsi que je trouvai, bien accoutum\u00e9e \u00e0 telles choses, ne s'en mit point\nen peine; elle dit qu'elle savait bien que les choses finiraient par en\nvenir l\u00e0, et nous plaisanta tr\u00e8s joyeusement tous deux; comme je l'ai\ndit, nous trouv\u00e2mes que c'\u00e9tait une vieille dame pleine d'exp\u00e9rience en\nces sortes d'affaires; elle se chargea de tout, s'engagea \u00e0 procurer une\nsage-femme et une nourrice, \u00e0 \u00e9teindre toute curiosit\u00e9, et \u00e0 en tirer\nnotre r\u00e9putation nette, ce qu'elle fit en effet avec beaucoup d'adresse.\nQuand j'approchai du terme, elle pria mon monsieur de s'en aller \u00e0\nLondres ou de feindre son d\u00e9part; quand il fut parti, elle informa les\nofficiers de la paroisse qu'il y avait chez elle une dame pr\u00e8s\nd'accoucher, mais qu'elle connaissait fort bien son mari, et leur rendit\ncompte, comme elle pr\u00e9tendait, de son nom qui \u00e9tait sir Walter Cleave;\nleur disant que c'\u00e9tait un digne gentilhomme et qu'elle r\u00e9pondrait \u00e0\ntoutes enqu\u00eates et autres choses semblables. Ceci eut donn\u00e9 bient\u00f4t\nsatisfaction aux officiers de la paroisse, et j'accouchai avec autant de\ncr\u00e9dit que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 r\u00e9ellement milady Cleave, et fus assist\u00e9e dans\nmon travail par trois ou quatre des plus notables bourgeoises de Bath;\nce qui toutefois me rendit un peu plus co\u00fbteuse pour lui; je lui\nexprimais souvent mon souci \u00e0 cet \u00e9gard, mais il me priait de ne point\nm'en inqui\u00e9ter.\nComme il m'avait munie tr\u00e8s suffisamment d'argent pour les d\u00e9penses\nextraordinaires de mes couches, j'avais sur moi tout ce qu'il peut y\navoir de beau; mais je n'affectais point la l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9 ni l'extravagance;\nd'ailleurs connaissant le monde comme je l'avais fait, et qu'un tel\ngenre de condition ne dure souvent pas longtemps, je prenais garde de\nmettre de c\u00f4t\u00e9 autant d'argent que je pouvais, pour quand viendraient\n\u00ables temps de pluie\u00bb, comme je disais, lui faisant croire que j'avais\ntout d\u00e9pens\u00e9 sur l'extraordinaire apparence des choses durant mes\ncouches.\nPar ce moyen, avec ce qu'il m'avait donn\u00e9, et que j'ai dit plus haut,\nj'eus \u00e0 la fin de mes couches deux cents guin\u00e9es \u00e0 moi, comprenant aussi\nce qui restait de mon argent.\nJ'accouchai d'un beau gar\u00e7on, vraiment, et ce fut un charmant enfant; et\nquand il l'apprit, il m'\u00e9crivit l\u00e0-dessus une lettre bien tendre et\nobligeante, et puis me dit qu'il pensait qu'il y e\u00fbt meilleur air pour\nmoi de partir pour Londres aussit\u00f4t que je serais lev\u00e9e et remise, qu'il\navait retenu des appartements pour moi \u00e0 Hammersmith, comme si je venais\nseulement de Londres, et qu'apr\u00e8s quelque temps je retournerais \u00e0 Bath\net qu'il m'accompagnerait.\nSon offre me plut assez, et je louai un carrosse \u00e0 ce propos, et prenant\navec moi mon enfant, une nourrice pour le tenir et lui donner \u00e0 t\u00e9ter et\nune fille servante, me voil\u00e0 partie pour Londres.\nIl me rencontra \u00e0 Reading dans sa propre voiture, o\u00f9 il me fit entrer,\nlaissant les servantes et l'enfant dans le carrosse de louage, et ainsi\nm'amena \u00e0 mon nouveau logement de Hammersmith, dont j'eus abondance de\nraisons d'\u00eatre charm\u00e9e, car c'\u00e9taient de superbes chambres.\nEt maintenant, j'\u00e9tais vraiment au point extr\u00eame de ce que je pouvais\nnommer prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9, et je ne d\u00e9sirais rien d'autre que d'\u00eatre sa femme\npar mariage, ce qui ne pouvait pas \u00eatre; et voil\u00e0 pourquoi en toutes\noccasions je m'\u00e9tudiais \u00e0 \u00e9pargner tout ce que je pouvais, comme j'ai\ndit, en pr\u00e9vision de la mis\u00e8re; sachant assez bien que telles choses ne\ndurent pas toujours, que les hommes qui entretiennent des ma\u00eetresses en\nchangent souvent, en deviennent las, sont jaloux d'elles, ou une chose\nou l'autre; et parfois les dames qui sont ainsi bien trait\u00e9es ne sont\npas soigneuses \u00e0 pr\u00e9server, par conduite prudente, l'estime de leurs\npersonnes, ou le d\u00e9licat article de leur fid\u00e9lit\u00e9, d'o\u00f9 elles sont\njustement pouss\u00e9es \u00e0 l'\u00e9cart avec m\u00e9pris.\nMais j'\u00e9tais assur\u00e9e sur ce point; car ainsi que je n'avais nulle\ninclinaison \u00e0 changer, ainsi n'avais-je aucune mani\u00e8re de connaissance,\npartant point de tentation \u00e0 d'autres vis\u00e9es; je ne tenais de soci\u00e9t\u00e9\nque dans la famille o\u00f9 je logeais, et avec la femme d'un ministre, qui\ndemeurait \u00e0 la porte d'aupr\u00e8s; de sorte que lorsqu'il \u00e9tait absent, je\nn'allais point faire de visites \u00e0 personne, et chaque fois qu'il\narrivait, il ne manquait pas de me trouver dans ma chambre ou ma salle\nbasse; si j'allais prendre l'air, c'\u00e9tait toujours avec lui.\nCette mani\u00e8re de vivre avec lui, autant que la sienne avec moi, \u00e9tait\ncertainement la chose du monde o\u00f9 il y avait le moins de dessein; il\nm'assurait souvent que lorsqu'il avait fait d'abord ma connaissance, et\njusqu'\u00e0 la nuit m\u00eame o\u00f9 nous avions enfreint nos r\u00e8gles, il n'avait\njamais entretenu le moindre dessein de coucher avec moi; qu'il avait\ntoujours \u00e9prouv\u00e9 une sinc\u00e8re affection pour moi, mais pas la moindre\ninclination r\u00e9elle \u00e0 faire ce qu'il avait fait; je lui assurais que je\nne l'avais jamais soup\u00e7onn\u00e9 l\u00e0-dessus; et que si la pens\u00e9e m'en f\u00fbt\nvenue, je n'eusse point si facilement c\u00e9d\u00e9 aux libert\u00e9s qui nous avaient\namen\u00e9s jusque-l\u00e0, mais que tout cela avait \u00e9t\u00e9 une surprise.\nIl est vrai que depuis la premi\u00e8re heure o\u00f9 j'avais commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 converser\navec lui, j'avais r\u00e9solu de le laisser coucher avec moi, s'il m'en\npriait; mais c'\u00e9tait parce que j'avais besoin de son aide, et que je ne\nconnaissais point d'autre moyen de le tenir; mais quand nous f\u00fbmes\nensemble cette nuit-l\u00e0, et que les choses, ainsi que j'ai dit, \u00e9taient\nall\u00e9es si loin, je trouvai ma faiblesse et qu'il n'y avait pas \u00e0\nr\u00e9sister \u00e0 l'inclination; mais je fus oblig\u00e9e de tout c\u00e9der avant m\u00eame\nqu'il le demand\u00e2t.\nCependant, il fut si juste envers moi, qu'il ne me le reprocha jamais,\net jamais n'exprima le moindre d\u00e9plaisir de ma conduite \u00e0 nulle autre\noccasion, mais protestait toujours qu'il \u00e9tait aussi ravi de ma soci\u00e9t\u00e9\nqu'il l'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 la premi\u00e8re heure que nous f\u00fbmes r\u00e9unis ensemble.\nD'autre part, quoique je ne fusse pas sans de secrets reproches de ma\nconscience pour la vie que je menais, et cela jusque dans la plus grande\nhauteur de la satisfaction que j'\u00e9prouvai, cependant j'avais la terrible\nperspective de la pauvret\u00e9 et de la faim, qui m'assi\u00e9geait comme un\nspectre affreux, de sorte qu'il n'y avait pas \u00e0 songer \u00e0 regarder en\narri\u00e8re; mais ainsi que la pauvret\u00e9 m'y avait conduite, ainsi la crainte\nde la pauvret\u00e9 m'y maintenait-elle; et fr\u00e9quemment je prenais la\nr\u00e9solution de tout abandonner, si je pouvais parvenir \u00e0 \u00e9pargner assez\nd'argent pour m'entretenir; mais c'\u00e9taient des pens\u00e9es qui n'avaient\npoint de poids, et chaque fois qu'il venait me trouver, elles\ns'\u00e9vanouissaient: car sa compagnie \u00e9tait si d\u00e9licieuse qu'il \u00e9tait\nimpossible d'\u00eatre m\u00e9lancolique lorsqu'il \u00e9tait l\u00e0; ces r\u00e9flexions ne me\nvenaient que pendant les heures o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais seule.\nJe v\u00e9cus six ans dans cette condition, tout ensemble heureuse et\ninfortun\u00e9e, pendant lequel temps je lui donnai trois enfants; mais le\npremier seul v\u00e9cut; et quoique ayant d\u00e9m\u00e9nag\u00e9 deux fois pendant ces six\nann\u00e9es, pourtant la sixi\u00e8me je retournai dans mon premier logement \u00e0\nHammersmith. C'est l\u00e0 que je fus surprise un matin par une lettre\ntendre, mais m\u00e9lancolique, de mon monsieur; il m'\u00e9crivait qu'il se\nsentait fort indispos\u00e9 et qu'il craignait d'avoir un nouvel acc\u00e8s de\nmaladie, mais que, les parents de sa femme s\u00e9journant dans sa maison, il\nserait impraticable que je vinsse aupr\u00e8s de lui; il exprimait tout le\nm\u00e9contentement qu'il en \u00e9prouvait, ayant le d\u00e9sir qu'il me f\u00fbt possible\nde le soigner et de le veiller comme autrefois.\nJe fus extr\u00eamement inqui\u00e8te l\u00e0-dessus et tr\u00e8s impatiente de savoir ce\nqu'il en \u00e9tait; j'attendis quinze jours ou environ et n'eus point de\nnouvelles, ce qui me surprit, et je commen\u00e7ai d'\u00eatre tr\u00e8s tourment\u00e9e,\nvraiment; je crois que je puis dire que pendant les quinze jours qui\nsuivirent je fus pr\u00e8s d'\u00eatre \u00e9gar\u00e9e: ma difficult\u00e9 principale \u00e9tait que\nje ne savais pas exactement o\u00f9 il se trouvait; car j'avais compris\nd'abord qu'il \u00e9tait dans le logement de la m\u00e8re de sa femme; mais\nm'\u00e9tant rendue \u00e0 Londres, je trouvai, \u00e0 l'aide des indications que\nj'avais, afin de lui \u00e9crire, comment je pourrais m'enqu\u00e9rir de lui; et\nl\u00e0 je trouvai qu'il \u00e9tait dans une maison de Bloomsbury, o\u00f9 il s'\u00e9tait\ntransport\u00e9 avec toute sa famille; et que sa femme et la m\u00e8re de sa femme\n\u00e9taient dans la m\u00eame maison, quoiqu'on n'e\u00fbt pas souffert que la femme\napprit qu'elle s\u00e9journait sous le m\u00eame toit que son mari.\nL\u00e0 j'appris \u00e9galement bient\u00f4t qu'il \u00e9tait \u00e0 la derni\u00e8re extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, d'o\u00f9\nje pensai arriver \u00e0 la mienne, par mon ardeur \u00e0 conna\u00eetre la v\u00e9rit\u00e9. Une\nnuit, j'eus la curiosit\u00e9 de me d\u00e9guiser en fille servante, avec un\nbonnet rond et un chapeau de paille, et je m'en allai \u00e0 sa porte, comme\nsi je fusse envoy\u00e9e par une dame de ses voisines \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 il\nvivait auparavant; et, rendant des compliments aux ma\u00eetres et aux\nma\u00eetresses, je dis que j'\u00e9tais envoy\u00e9e pour demander comment allait\nM..., et comment il avait repos\u00e9 pendant la nuit. En apportant ce\nmessage, j'obtins l'occasion que je d\u00e9sirais; car, parlant \u00e0 une des\nservantes, je lui tins un long conte de comm\u00e8re, et je lui tirai tous\nles d\u00e9tails de sa maladie, que je trouvai \u00eatre une pleur\u00e9sie,\naccompagn\u00e9e de toux et de fi\u00e8vre; elle me dit aussi qui \u00e9tait dans la\nmaison, et comment allait sa femme, dont on avait quelque espoir, par\nson rapport, qu'elle pourrait recouvrer sa raison; mais pour le\ngentilhomme lui-m\u00eame, les m\u00e9decins disaient qu'il y avait bien peu\nd'espoir, que le matin ils avaient cru qu'il \u00e9tait sur le point de\nmourir, et qu'il n'en valait gu\u00e8re mieux \u00e0 cette heure, car on\nn'esp\u00e9rait pas lui voir passer la nuit.\nCeci \u00e9tait une lourde nouvelle pour moi, et je commen\u00e7ai maintenant \u00e0\nvoir la fin de ma prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9, et \u00e0 comprendre que j'avais bien fait\nd'agir en bonne m\u00e9nag\u00e8re et d'avoir mis quelque peu de c\u00f4t\u00e9 pendant\nqu'il \u00e9tait en vie, car maintenant aucune vue ne s'ouvrait devant moi\npour soutenir mon existence.\nCe qui pesait bien lourdement aussi sur mon esprit, c'est que j'avais un\nfils, un bel enfant aimable, qui avait plus de cinq ans d'\u00e2ge, et point\nde provision faite pour lui, du moins \u00e0 ma connaissance; avec ces\nconsid\u00e9rations et un coeur triste je rentrai \u00e0 la maison ce soir-l\u00e0 et\nje commen\u00e7ai de me demander comment j'allais vivre, et de quelle mani\u00e8re\nj'allais passer mon temps pour le reste de ma vie.\nVous pouvez bien penser que je n'eus point de repos que je ne\nm'informasse de nouveau tr\u00e8s rapidement de ce qui \u00e9tait advenu; et\nn'osant m'aventurer moi-m\u00eame, j'envoyai plusieurs faux messagers, jusque\napr\u00e8s avoir attendu quinze jours encore, je trouvai qu'il y avait\nquelque espoir qu'il p\u00fbt vivre, quoiqu'il fut toujours bien mal; alors\nje cessai d'envoyer chercher des nouvelles, et quelque temps apr\u00e8s je\nsus dans le voisinage qu'il se levait dans sa chambre, et puis qu'il\navait pu sortir.\nJe n'eus point de doute alors que je n'ou\u00efrais bient\u00f4t quelque nouvelle\nde lui, et commen\u00e7ai de me r\u00e9conforter sur ma condition, pensant qu'elle\nf\u00fbt r\u00e9tablie; j'attendis une semaine, et deux semaines et avec\ninfiniment de surprise, pr\u00e8s de deux mois, et n'appris rien, sinon\nqu'\u00e9tant remis, il \u00e9tait parti pour la campagne, afin de prendre l'air\napr\u00e8s sa maladie; ensuite il se passa deux mois encore, et puis je sus\nqu'il \u00e9tait revenu dans sa maison de ville, mais je ne re\u00e7us rien de\nlui.\nJe lui avais \u00e9crit plusieurs lettres et les avais adress\u00e9es comme\nd'ordinaire; et je trouvai qu'on en \u00e9tait venu chercher deux ou trois,\nmais point les autres. Je lui \u00e9crivis encore d'une mani\u00e8re plus\npressante que jamais, et dans l'une d'elles, je lui fis savoir que je\nserais oblig\u00e9e de venir le trouver moi-m\u00eame, repr\u00e9sentant ma condition,\nle loyer du logement \u00e0 payer, toute provision pour l'enfant qui\nmanquait, et mon d\u00e9plorable \u00e9tat, d\u00e9nu\u00e9e de tout entretien, apr\u00e8s son\ntr\u00e8s solennel engagement qu'il aurait soin de moi et me pourvoirait; je\nfis une copie de cette lettre, et trouvant qu'elle \u00e9tait rest\u00e9e pr\u00e8s\nd'un mois dans la maison o\u00f9 je l'avais adress\u00e9e sans qu'on f\u00fbt venu la\nchercher, je trouvai moyen d'en faire mettre une copie dans ses mains \u00e0\nune maison de caf\u00e9 o\u00f9 je trouvai qu'il avait coutume d'aller.\nCette lettre lui arracha une r\u00e9ponse, par laquelle je vis bien que je\nserais abandonn\u00e9e, mais o\u00f9 je d\u00e9couvris qu'il m'avait envoy\u00e9 quelque\ntemps auparavant une lettre afin de me prier de retourner \u00e0 Bath; j'en\nviendrai tout \u00e0 l'heure \u00e0 son contenu.\nIl est vrai que les lits de maladie am\u00e8nent des temps o\u00f9 des liaisons\ntelles que celles-ci sont consid\u00e9r\u00e9es avec des visages diff\u00e9rents et\nregard\u00e9es avec d'autres yeux que nous ne les avions vues auparavant; mon\namant \u00e9tait all\u00e9 aux portes de la mort et sur le bord extr\u00eame de\nl'\u00e9ternit\u00e9 et, para\u00eet-il, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 frapp\u00e9 d'un juste remords et de\nr\u00e9flexions graves sur sa vie pass\u00e9e de galanterie et de l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9: et,\nentre autres, sa criminelle liaison avec moi, qui n'\u00e9tait en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 ni\nplus ni moins qu'une longue vie continue d'adult\u00e8re, s'\u00e9tait pr\u00e9sent\u00e9e \u00e0\nlui telle qu'elle \u00e9tait, non plus telle qu'autrefois il la pensait \u00eatre,\net il la regardait maintenant avec une juste horreur. Les bonnes moeurs\net la justice de ce gentilhomme l'emp\u00each\u00e8rent d'aller \u00e0 l'extr\u00eame, mais\nvoici tout net ce qu'il fit en cette affaire; il s'aper\u00e7ut par ma\nderni\u00e8re lettre et par les autres qu'il se fit apporter que je n'\u00e9tais\npoint partie, pour Bath et que sa premi\u00e8re lettre ne m'\u00e9tait point venue\nen main, sur quoi il m'\u00e9crit la suivante:\n\u00abMadame,\n\u00abJe suis surpris que ma lettre dat\u00e9e du 8 du mois dernier ne vous soit\npoint venue en main; je vous donne ma parole qu'elle a \u00e9t\u00e9 remise \u00e0\nvotre logement, et aux mains de votre servante.\n\u00abIl est inutile que je vous fasse conna\u00eetre quelle a \u00e9t\u00e9 ma condition\ndepuis quelque temps pass\u00e9; et comment, \u00e9tant all\u00e9 jusqu'au nord de la\ntombe, par une gr\u00e2ce inesp\u00e9r\u00e9e du ciel, et que j'ai bien peu m\u00e9rit\u00e9e,\nj'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 rendu \u00e0 la vie; dans la condition o\u00f9 j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9, vous ne serez\npoint \u00e9tonn\u00e9e que notre malheureuse liaison n'ait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 le moindre des\nfardeaux qui pesaient sur ma conscience; je n'ai point besoin d'en dire\ndavantage; les choses dont il faut se repentir doivent aussi \u00eatre\nr\u00e9form\u00e9es.\n\u00abJe serais d\u00e9sireux de vous voir songer \u00e0 rentrer \u00e0 Bath; je joins \u00e0\ncette lettre un billet de 50\u00a3 pour que vous puissiez liquider votre\nloyer et payer les menus frais de votre voyage. J'esp\u00e8re que ce ne sera\npas pour vous une surprise si j'ajoute que pour cette raison seule, et\nsans aucune offense de votre part, je ne peux plus vous revoir; je\nprendrai de l'enfant le soin qu'il faudra, soit que vous le laissiez\nici, soit que vous l'emmeniez, comme il vous plaira; je vous souhaite de\npareilles r\u00e9flexions, et qu'elles puissent tourner \u00e0 votre avantage.\n\u00abJe suis, etc.\u00bb\nJe fus frapp\u00e9e par cette lettre comme de mille blessures; les reproches\nde ma conscience \u00e9taient tels que je ne saurais les exprimer, car je\nn'\u00e9tais pas aveugle \u00e0 mon propre crime; et je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais que j'eusse\npu avec moins d'offense continuer avec mon fr\u00e8re, puisqu'il n'y avait\npas de crime au moins dans le fait de notre mariage, aucun de nous ne\nsachant rien.\nMais je ne songeai pas une seule fois que pendant tout ce temps j'\u00e9tais\nune femme mari\u00e9e, la femme de M..., le marchand de toiles, qui, bien\nqu'il m'e\u00fbt quitt\u00e9e par n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de sa condition, n'avait point le\npouvoir de me d\u00e9lier du contrat de mariage qu'il y avait entre nous, ni\nde me donner la libert\u00e9 l\u00e9gale de me remarier; si bien que je n'avais\nrien \u00e9t\u00e9 moins pendant tout ce temps qu'une prostitu\u00e9e et une femme\nadult\u00e8re. Je me reprochai alors les libert\u00e9s que j'avais prises, et\nd'avoir servi de pi\u00e8ge pour ce gentilhomme, et d'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 la principale\ncoupable; et maintenant, par grande merci, il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 arrach\u00e9 \u00e0\nl'ab\u00eeme par oeuvre convaincante sur son esprit; mais moi, je restais l\u00e0\ncomme si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 abandonn\u00e9e par le ciel pour continuer ma route dans\nle mal.\nDans ces r\u00e9flexions, je continuai tr\u00e8s pensive et triste pendant presque\nun mois, et je ne retournai pas \u00e0 Bath, n'ayant aucune inclination \u00e0 me\nretrouver avec la femme aupr\u00e8s de qui j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 avant, de peur que,\nainsi que je croyais, elle me pouss\u00e2t \u00e0 quelque mauvais genre de vie,\ncomme elle l'avait fait; et d'ailleurs, j'avais honte qu'elle apprit que\nj'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 rejet\u00e9e et d\u00e9laiss\u00e9e.\nEt maintenant j'\u00e9tais grandement troubl\u00e9e au sujet de mon petit gar\u00e7on;\nc'\u00e9tait pour moi la mort de me s\u00e9parer de cet enfant; et pourtant quand\nje consid\u00e9rais le danger qu'il y avait d'\u00eatre abandonn\u00e9e un jour ou\nl'autre avec lui, sans avoir les moyens de l'entretenir, je me d\u00e9cidais\n\u00e0 le quitter; mais finalement je r\u00e9solus de demeurer moi-m\u00eame pr\u00e8s de\nlui, afin d'avoir la satisfaction de le voir, sans le souci de l'\u00e9lever.\nJ'\u00e9crivis donc \u00e0 mon monsieur une courte lettre o\u00f9 je lui disais que\nj'avais ob\u00e9i \u00e0 ses ordres en toutes choses, sauf sur le point de mon\nretour \u00e0 Bath; que bien que notre s\u00e9paration fut pour moi un coup dont\nje ne pourrais jamais me remettre, pourtant j'\u00e9tais enti\u00e8rement\npersuad\u00e9e que ses r\u00e9flexions \u00e9taient justes et que je serais bien loin\nde d\u00e9sirer m'opposer \u00e0 sa r\u00e9forme.\nPuis je lui repr\u00e9sentai ma propre condition dans les termes les plus\n\u00e9mouvants. Je lui dis que j'entretenais l'espoir que ces infortun\u00e9es\nd\u00e9tresses qui d'abord l'avaient \u00e9mu d'une g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse amiti\u00e9 pour moi,\npourraient un peu l'apitoyer maintenant, bien que la partie criminelle\nde notre liaison o\u00f9 je pensais qu'aucun de nous n'entendait tomber alors\nf\u00fbt rompue d\u00e9sormais; que je d\u00e9sirais me repentir aussi sinc\u00e8rement\nqu'il l'avait fait, mais je le suppliais de me placer en quelque\ncondition o\u00f9 je ne fusse pas expos\u00e9e aux tentations par l'affreuse\nperspective de la pauvret\u00e9 et de la d\u00e9tresse; et s'il avait la moindre\nappr\u00e9hension sur les ennuis que je pourrais lui causer, je le priais de\nme mettre en \u00e9tat de retourner aupr\u00e8s de ma m\u00e8re en Virginie, d'o\u00f9 il\nsavait que j'\u00e9tais venue, ce qui mettrait fin \u00e0 toutes les craintes qui\npourraient lui venir l\u00e0-dessus; je terminais en lui assurant que s'il\nvoulait m'envoyer 50\u00a3 de plus pour faciliter mon d\u00e9part, je lui\nrenverrais une quittance g\u00e9n\u00e9rale: et lui promettrais de ne plus le\ntroubler par aucune importunit\u00e9, \u00e0 moins que ce f\u00fbt pour demander de\nbonnes nouvelles de mon enfant que j'enverrais chercher, si je trouvais\nma m\u00e8re vivante et que ma condition \u00e9tait ais\u00e9e, et dont je pourrais\nalors le d\u00e9charger.\nOr, tout ceci \u00e9tait une duperie, en ce que je n'avais nulle intention\nd'aller en Virginie, ainsi que le r\u00e9cit des affaires que j'y avais eues,\npeut convaincre quiconque; mais l'objet \u00e9tait de tirer de lui ces\nderni\u00e8res 50\u00a3, sachant fort bien que ce serait le dernier sou que\nj'aurais \u00e0 attendre de lui.\nN\u00e9anmoins, l'argument que j'avais envoy\u00e9 en lui promettant une quittance\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale et de ne plus jamais l'inqui\u00e9ter, pr\u00e9valut effectivement, et il\nm'envoya un billet pour cette somme par une personne qui m'apportait une\nquittance g\u00e9n\u00e9rale \u00e0 signer, ce que je fis franchement; et ainsi, bien\nam\u00e8rement contre ma volont\u00e9, l'affaire se trouva enti\u00e8rement termin\u00e9e.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant une personne isol\u00e9e, de nouveau, comme je puis bien\nm'appeler; j'\u00e9tais d\u00e9li\u00e9e de toutes les obligations soit de femme\nmari\u00e9e, soit de ma\u00eetresse, qui fussent au monde; except\u00e9 mon mari le\nmarchand de toile dont je n'avais pas entendu parler maintenant depuis\npr\u00e8s de quinze ans, personne ne pouvait me bl\u00e2mer pour me croire\nenti\u00e8rement lib\u00e9r\u00e9e de tous; consid\u00e9rant surtout qu'il m'avait dit \u00e0 son\nd\u00e9part que si je n'avais point de nouvelles fr\u00e9quentes de lui, j'en\ndevrais conclure qu'il \u00e9tait mort, et que je pourrais librement me\nremarier avec celui qu'il me plairait.\nJe commen\u00e7ai maintenant \u00e0 dresser mes comptes; j'avais par maintes\nlettres et grande importunit\u00e9, et aussi par l'intercession de ma m\u00e8re,\nobtenu de mon fr\u00e8re un nouvel envoi de quelques marchandises de\nVirginie, afin de compenser l'avarie de la cargaison que j'avais\nemport\u00e9e et ceci aussi avait \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 la condition que je lui scellerais\nune quittance g\u00e9n\u00e9rale, ce que j'avais d\u00fb promettre, si dur que cela me\npar\u00fbt. Je sus si bien disposer mes affaires, que je fis enlever les\nmarchandises, avant d'avoir sign\u00e9 la quittance: et ensuite je d\u00e9couvris\nsans cesse un pr\u00e9texte ou l'autre pour m'\u00e9chapper et remettre la\nsignature; jusque enfin je pr\u00e9tendis qu'il me fallait \u00e9crire \u00e0 mon fr\u00e8re\navant de rien faire.\nEn comptant cette rentr\u00e9e et avant d'avoir obtenu les derni\u00e8res 50\u00a3, je\ntrouvai que ma fortune se montait tout compris, \u00e0 environ 400\u00a3; de sorte\nqu'avec cette somme je poss\u00e9dais plus de 450\u00a3. J'aurais pu \u00e9conomiser\n100\u00a3 de plus, si je n'avais rencontr\u00e9 un malheur qui fut celui ci:\nl'orf\u00e8vre \u00e0 qui je les avais confi\u00e9es fit banqueroute, de sorte que je\nperdis 70\u00a3 de mon argent, l'accommodement de cet homme n'ayant pas donn\u00e9\nplus de 30 p. 100. J'avais un peu d'argenterie mais pas beaucoup, et\nj'\u00e9tais assez bien garnie d'habits et de linge.\nAvec ce fonds j'avais \u00e0 recommencer la vie dans ce monde; mais il faut\nbien penser que je n'\u00e9tais plus la m\u00eame femme que lorsque je vivais \u00e0\nRotherhithe; car en premier lieu j'\u00e9tais plus vieille de pr\u00e8s de vingt\nans et je n'\u00e9tais nullement avantag\u00e9e par ce surcro\u00eet d'ann\u00e9es, ni par\nmes p\u00e9r\u00e9grinations en Virginie, aller et retour, et quoique n'omettant\nrien qui p\u00fbt me rehausser sinon de me peindre, \u00e0 quoi je ne m'abaissai\njamais, cependant on verra toujours quelque diff\u00e9rence entre une femme\nde vingt-cinq ans et une femme qui en a quarante-deux.\nJe faisais d'innombrables projets pour mon \u00e9tat de vie futur, et je\ncommen\u00e7ai \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir tr\u00e8s s\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 ce que je ferais, mais rien ne\nse pr\u00e9sentait. Je prenais bien garde \u00e0 ce que le monde me pr\u00eet pour plus\nque je n'\u00e9tais, et je faisais dire que j'\u00e9tais une grande fortune et que\nmes biens \u00e9taient entre mes mains: la derni\u00e8re chose \u00e9tait vraie, la\npremi\u00e8re comme j'ai dit. Je n'avais pas de connaissances, ce qui \u00e9tait\nune de mes pires infortunes, et la cons\u00e9quence en \u00e9tait que je n'avais\npersonne pour me donner conseil, et par-dessus tout, que je n'avais\npersonne \u00e0 qui je pusse en confidence dire le secret de ma condition; et\nje trouvai par exp\u00e9rience qu'\u00eatre sans amis est la pire des situations,\napr\u00e8s la mis\u00e8re, o\u00f9 une femme puisse \u00eatre r\u00e9duite; je dis \u00abfemme\u00bbparce\nqu'il est \u00e9vident que les hommes peuvent \u00eatre leurs propres conseillers\net directeurs et savoir se tirer des difficult\u00e9s et des affaires mieux\nque les femmes; mais si une femme n'a pas d'ami pour lui faire part de\nses ennuis, pour lui donner aide et conseil, c'est dix contre un qu'elle\nest perdue, oui, et plus elle a d'argent, plus elle est en danger d'\u00eatre\ntromp\u00e9e et qu'on lui fasse tort: et c'\u00e9tait mon cas dans l'affaire des\n100\u00a3 que j'avais laiss\u00e9es aux mains de l'orf\u00e8vre que j'ai dit, dont le\ncr\u00e9dit, para\u00eet-il, allait baissant d\u00e9j\u00e0 auparavant; mais n'ayant\npersonne que je pusse consulter, je n'en avais rien appris et perdu mon\nargent.\nQuand une femme est ainsi esseul\u00e9e et vide de conseil, elle est tout\njustement semblable \u00e0 un sac d'argent ou \u00e0 un joyau tomb\u00e9 sur la\ngrand'route qui sera la proie du premier venu: s'il se rencontre un\nhomme de vertu et de bons principes pour le trouver, il le fera crier\npar le crieur, et le propri\u00e9taire pourra venir \u00e0 le savoir; mais combien\nde fois de telles choses tomberont-elles dans des mains qui ne se feront\npas scrupule de les saisir pour une fois qu'elles viendront en de bonnes\nmains?\nC'\u00e9tait \u00e9videmment mon cas, car j'\u00e9tais maintenant une femme libre,\nerrante et d\u00e9r\u00e9gl\u00e9e, et n'avais ni aide ni assistance, ni guide de ma\nconduite; je savais ce que je visais et ce dont j'avais besoin, mais je\nne savais rien de la mani\u00e8re de parvenir \u00e0 mon but par des moyens\ndirects; j'avais besoin d'\u00eatre plac\u00e9e dans une condition d'existence\ns\u00fbre, et si je me fusse trouv\u00e9e rencontrer un bon mari sobre, je lui\neusse \u00e9t\u00e9 femme aussi fid\u00e8le que la vertu m\u00eame e\u00fbt pu la former. Si\nj'avais agi diff\u00e9remment, c'est que le vice \u00e9tait toujours entr\u00e9 par la\nporte de la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, non par la porte de l'inclination, et je\ncomprenais trop bien par le manque que j'en avais la valeur d'une vie\ntranquillement \u00e9tablie, pour faire quoi que ce f\u00fbt qui p\u00fbt en ali\u00e9ner la\nf\u00e9licit\u00e9; oui, et j'aurais fait une meilleure femme pour toutes les\ndifficult\u00e9s que j'avais travers\u00e9es, oh! infiniment meilleure: et jamais,\nen aucun temps que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 mari\u00e9e, je n'avais donn\u00e9 \u00e0 mes maris la\nmoindre inqui\u00e9tude sur le sujet de ma conduite.\nMais tout cela n'\u00e9tait rien; je ne trouvais point de perspective\nencourageante; j'attendais; je vivais r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement, et avec autant de\nfrugalit\u00e9 que le comportait ma condition; mais rien ne se pr\u00e9sentait, et\nmon capital diminuait \u00e0 vue d'oeil; je ne savais que faire; la terreur\nde la pauvret\u00e9 qui s'approchait pesait gravement sur mes esprits:\nj'avais un peu d'argent, mais je ne savais o\u00f9 le placer, et l'int\u00e9r\u00eat\nn'en suffirait pas \u00e0 m'entretenir, au moins \u00e0 Londres.\n\u00c0 la fin une nouvelle sc\u00e8ne s'ouvrit. Il y avait dans la maison o\u00f9 je\nlogeais une dame des provinces du Nord et rien n'\u00e9tait plus fr\u00e9quent\ndans ses discours que l'\u00e9loge qu'elle faisait du bon march\u00e9 des\nprovisions et de la facile mani\u00e8re de vivre dans son pays; combien tout\n\u00e9tait abondant et \u00e0 bas prix, combien la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 y \u00e9tait agr\u00e9able, et\nd'autres choses semblables; jusque enfin je lui dis qu'elle m'avait\npresque tent\u00e9e d'aller vivre dans son pays; car moi qui \u00e9tais veuve,\nbien que j'eusse suffisamment pour vivre, cependant je n'avais pas de\nmoyens d'augmenter mes revenus, et que Londres \u00e9tait un endroit rempli\nd'extravagances; que je voyais bien que je ne pourrais y vivre \u00e0 moins\nde cent livres par an, sinon en me privant de toute compagnie, de\ndomestique, en ne paraissant jamais dans la soci\u00e9t\u00e9, en m'enterrant dans\nle priv\u00e9, comme si j'y fusse contrainte par n\u00e9cessit\u00e9.\nJ'aurais d\u00fb observer qu'on lui avait toujours fait croire, ainsi qu'\u00e0\ntout le monde, que j'\u00e9tais une grande fortune, ou au moins que j'avais\ntrois ou quatre mille livres, sinon plus, et que le tout \u00e9tait entre mes\nmains; et elle se montra infiniment engageante, sit\u00f4t qu'elle vit que\nj'avais l'ombre d'un penchant \u00e0 aller dans son pays; elle me dit\nqu'elle avait une soeur qui vivait pr\u00e8s de Liverpool, que son fr\u00e8re y\n\u00e9tait gentilhomme de fort grande importance, et avait aussi de vastes\ndomaines en Irlande; qu'elle partirait elle-m\u00eame pour s'y rendre dans\ndeux mois; et que si je voulais bien lui accorder ma soci\u00e9t\u00e9 jusque-l\u00e0,\nje serais re\u00e7ue aussi bien qu'elle-m\u00eame, un mois ou davantage, s'il me\nplaisait, afin de voir si le pays me conviendrait; et que si je me\nd\u00e9cidais \u00e0 m'y \u00e9tablir, elle s'engageait \u00e0 veiller, quoiqu'ils\nn'entretinssent pas eux-m\u00eames de pensionnaires, \u00e0 ce que je fusse\nrecommand\u00e9e \u00e0 quelque famille agr\u00e9able o\u00f9 je serais plac\u00e9e \u00e0 ma\nsatisfaction.\nSi cette femme avait connu ma v\u00e9ritable condition, elle n'aurait jamais\ntendu tant de pi\u00e8ges ni fait tant de lassantes d\u00e9marches pour prendre\nune pauvre cr\u00e9ature d\u00e9sol\u00e9e, qui, une fois prise, ne devait point \u00eatre\nbonne \u00e0 grand'chose; et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 moi, dont le cas \u00e9tait presque\nd\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9, et ne me semblait gu\u00e8re pouvoir \u00eatre bien pire, je n'\u00e9tais\npas fort soucieuse de ce qui pouvait m'arriver pourvu qu'on ne me f\u00eet\npoint de mal, j'entends \u00e0 mon corps; de sorte que je souffris quoique\nnon sans beaucoup d'invitations, et de grandes professions d'amiti\u00e9\nsinc\u00e8re et de tendresse v\u00e9ritable, je souffris, dis-je, de me laisser\npersuader de partir avec elle; et je me pr\u00e9parai en cons\u00e9quence pour un\nvoyage, quoique ne sachant absolument pas o\u00f9 je devais aller.\nEt maintenant je me trouvais dans une grande d\u00e9tresse: le peu que\nj'avais au monde \u00e9tait tout en argent sauf, comme j'ai dit avant, un peu\nd'argenterie, du linge et mes habits; pour des meubles ou objets de\nm\u00e9nage, j'en avais peu ou point, car je vivais toujours dans des\nlogements meubl\u00e9s; mais je n'avais pas un ami au monde \u00e0 qui confier le\npeu que j'avais ou qui p\u00fbt m'apprendre \u00e0 en disposer; je pensai \u00e0 la\nBanque et aux autres Compagnies de Londres, mais je n'avais point d'ami\n\u00e0 qui je pourrais en remettre le soin et le gouvernement; quant \u00e0 garder\nou \u00e0 porter sur moi des billets de banque, des billets de change \u00e0\nordre, ou telles choses, je le consid\u00e9rais comme imprudent, car si je\nvenais \u00e0 les perdre, mon argent \u00e9tait perdu, et j'\u00e9tais ruin\u00e9e; et\nd'autre part, je craignais d'\u00eatre vol\u00e9e ou peut-\u00eatre assassin\u00e9e en\nquelque lieu \u00e9tranger, si on les voyait et je ne savais que faire.\nIl me vint \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e, un matin, d'aller moi-m\u00eame \u00e0 la Banque, o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais souvent venue recevoir l'int\u00e9r\u00eat de quelques billets que\nj'avais, et o\u00f9 j'avais trouv\u00e9 le clerc, \u00e0 qui je m'adressais, fort\nhonn\u00eate pour moi, et de si bonne foi qu'un jour ou j'avais mal compt\u00e9\nmon argent et pris moins que mon d\u00fb, comme je m'en allais, il me fit\nremarquer l'erreur et me donna la diff\u00e9rence qu'il e\u00fbt pu mettre dans sa\npoche.\nJ'allai donc le trouver, et lui demandai s'il voulait bien prendre la\npeine de me donner un conseil, \u00e0 moi, pauvre veuve sans amis, qui ne\nsavais comment faire. Il me dit que si je d\u00e9sirais son opinion sur quoi\nque ce fut dans ce qui touchait \u00e0 ses affaires, il ferait de son mieux\npour m'emp\u00eacher d'\u00e9prouver aucun tort; mais qu'il me recommanderait\naussi \u00e0 une bonne personne sobre de ma connaissance, qui \u00e9tait \u00e9galement\nclerc dans les m\u00eames affaires, quoique non dans leur maison, dont le\njugement \u00e9tait sain, et de l'honn\u00eatet\u00e9 de qui je pouvais \u00eatre assur\u00e9e.\n--Car, ajouta-t-il, je r\u00e9pondrai pour lui et pour chaque pas qu'il fera;\ns'il vous fait tort, madame, d'un fardin, que la faute en soit rejet\u00e9e\nsur moi; et il est enchant\u00e9 de venir en aide \u00e0 des gens qui sont dans\nvotre situation: il le fait par acte de charit\u00e9.\nJe fus un peu prise de court \u00e0 ces paroles, mais apr\u00e8s un silence, je\nlui dis que j'eusse pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 me fier \u00e0 lui, parce que je l'avais reconnu\nhonn\u00eate, mais que si cela ne pouvait \u00eatre, je prendrais sa\nrecommandation, plut\u00f4t que celle de qui que ce f\u00fbt.\n--J'ose dire, madame, reprit-il, que vous serez aussi satisfaite de mon\nami que de moi-m\u00eame, et il est parfaitement en \u00e9tat de vous assister, ce\nque je ne suis point.\nIl para\u00eet qu'il avait ses mains pleines des affaires de la Banque et\nqu'il s'\u00e9tait engag\u00e9 \u00e0 ne pas s'occuper d'autres affaires que de celles\nde son bureau; il ajouta que son ami ne me demanderait rien pour son\navis ou son assistance, et ceci, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, m'encouragea.\nIl fixa le m\u00eame soir, apr\u00e8s que la Banque serait ferm\u00e9e, pour me faire\nrencontrer avec son ami. Aussit\u00f4t que j'eus vu cet ami et qu'il n'eut\nfait que commencer \u00e0 parler de ce qui m'amenait, je fus pleinement\npersuad\u00e9e que j'avais affaire \u00e0 un tr\u00e8s honn\u00eate homme; son visage le\ndisait clairement, et sa renomm\u00e9e, comme je l'appris plus tard, \u00e9tait\npartout si bonne, que je n'avais plus de cause d'entretenir des doutes.\nApr\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re entrevue, o\u00f9 je dis seulement ce que j'avais dit\nauparavant, il m'appointa \u00e0 venir le jour suivant, me disant que\ncependant je pourrais me satisfaire sur son compte par enqu\u00eate, ce que\ntoutefois je ne savais comment faire, n'ayant moi-m\u00eame aucune\nconnaissance.\nEn effet, je vins le trouver le lendemain, que j'entrai plus librement\navec lui dans mon cas; je lui exposai amplement ma condition: que\nj'\u00e9tais une veuve venue d'Am\u00e9rique compl\u00e8tement esseul\u00e9e et sans amis,\nque j'avais un peu d'argent, mais bien peu, et que j'\u00e9tais pr\u00e8s d'\u00eatre\nforcen\u00e9e de crainte de le perdre, n'ayant point d'ami au monde \u00e0 qui en\nconfier le soin; que j'allais dans le nord de l'Angleterre pour y vivre\n\u00e0 bon compte, et ne pas gaspiller mon capital; que, bien volontiers je\nplacerais mon argent \u00e0 la Banque, mais que je n'osais me risquer \u00e0\nporter les billets sur moi; et comment correspondre l\u00e0-dessus, ou avec\nqui, voil\u00e0 ce que je ne savais point.\nIl me dit que je pourrais placer mon argent \u00e0 la Banque, en compte, et\nque l'entr\u00e9e qu'on en ferait sur les livres me donnerait droit de le\nretirer quand il me plairait; que, lorsque je serais dans le Nord, je\npourrais tirer des billets sur le caissier, et en recevoir le montant \u00e0\nvolont\u00e9; mais qu'alors on le consid\u00e9rerait comme de l'argent qui roule,\net qu'on ne me donnerait point d'int\u00e9r\u00eat dessus; que je pouvais aussi\nacheter des actions, qu'on me conserverait en d\u00e9p\u00f4t; mais qu'alors, si\nje d\u00e9sirais en disposer, il me faudrait venir en ville pour op\u00e9rer le\ntransfert, et que ce serait m\u00eame avec quelque difficult\u00e9 que je\ntoucherai le dividende semestriel, \u00e0 moins de venir le recevoir en\npersonne, ou d'avoir quelque ami \u00e0 qui je pusse me fier, et au nom de\nqui fussent les actions, afin qu'il p\u00fbt agir pour moi, et que nous\nrencontrions alors la m\u00eame difficult\u00e9 qu'avant, et l\u00e0-dessus il me\nregarda fixement et sourit un peu.\nEnfin il dit:\n--Pourquoi ne choisissez-vous pas un g\u00e9rant, madame, qui vous prendrait\ntout ensemble, vous et votre argent, et ainsi tout souci vous serait\n\u00f4t\u00e9?\n--Oui, monsieur, et l'argent aussi peut-\u00eatre, dis-je, car je trouve que\nle risque est aussi grand de cette fa\u00e7on que de l'autre.\nMais je me souviens que je me dis secr\u00e8tement: Je voudrais bien que la\nquestion fut pos\u00e9e franchement, et je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chirais tr\u00e8s s\u00e9rieusement\navant de r\u00e9pondre NON.\nIl continua assez longtemps ainsi, et je crus une ou deux fois qu'il\navait des intentions s\u00e9rieuses, mais, \u00e0 mon r\u00e9el chagrin, je trouvai\nqu'il avait une femme; je me mis \u00e0 penser qu'il f\u00fbt dans la condition de\nmon dernier amant, et que sa femme f\u00fbt lunatique, ou quelque chose\nd'approchant. Pourtant nous ne f\u00eemes pas plus de discours ce jour-l\u00e0,\nmais il me dit qu'il \u00e9tait en trop grande presse d'affaires, mais que si\nje voulais venir chez lui quand son travail serait fini, il r\u00e9fl\u00e9chirait\n\u00e0 ce qu'on pourrait faire pour moi, afin de mettre mes affaires en \u00e9tat\nde s\u00e9curit\u00e9, je lui dis que je viendrais, et le priai de m'indiquer o\u00f9\nil demeurait; il me donna l'adresse par \u00e9crit, et, en me la donnant, il\nme la lut et dit:\n--Voici, madame, puisque vous voulez bien vous fier \u00e0 moi.\n--Oui, monsieur, dis-je, je crois que je puis me fier \u00e0 vous, car vous\navez une femme, dites-vous, et moi je ne cherche point un mari;\nd'ailleurs, je me risque \u00e0 vous confier mon argent, qui est tout ce que\nje poss\u00e8de au monde, et, si je le perdais, je ne pourrais me fier \u00e0 quoi\nque ce f\u00fbt.\nIl dit l\u00e0-dessus plusieurs choses fort plaisamment, qui \u00e9taient belles\net courtoises, et m'eussent infiniment plu, si elles eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\ns\u00e9rieuses; mais enfin je pris les indications qu'il m'avait donn\u00e9es, et\nje m'accordai \u00e0 me trouver chez lui le m\u00eame soir \u00e0 sept heures.\nLorsque j'arrivai, il me fit plusieurs propositions pour placer mon\nargent \u00e0 la Banque, afin que je pusse en recevoir l'int\u00e9r\u00eat; mais il\nd\u00e9couvrait toujours quelque difficult\u00e9 ou il ne voyait point de s\u00fbret\u00e9,\net je trouvai en lui une honn\u00eatet\u00e9 si sinc\u00e8rement d\u00e9sint\u00e9ress\u00e9e, que je\ncommen\u00e7ai de croire que j'avais certainement trouv\u00e9 l'honn\u00eate homme\nqu'il me fallait, et que jamais je ne pourrais tomber en meilleures\nmains; de sorte que je lui dis, avec infiniment de franchise, que je\nn'avais point rencontr\u00e9 encore homme ou femme o\u00f9 je pusse me fier, mais\nque je voyais qu'il prenait un souci tant d\u00e9sint\u00e9ress\u00e9 de mon salut, que\nje lui confierais librement le gouvernement du peu que j'avais, s'il\nvoulait accepter d'\u00eatre l'intendant d'une pauvre veuve qui ne pouvait\nlui donner de salaire.\nIl sourit; puis, se levant avec tr\u00e8s grand respect, me salua; il me dit\nqu'il ne pouvait qu'\u00eatre charm\u00e9 que j'eusse si bonne opinion de lui;\nqu'il ne me tromperait point et ferait tout ce qui \u00e9tait possible pour\nme servir, sans aucunement attendre de salaire; mais qu'il ne pouvait en\naucune fa\u00e7on accepter un mandat qui pourrait l'amener \u00e0 se faire\nsoup\u00e7onner d'agissements int\u00e9ress\u00e9s, et que si je venais \u00e0 mourir, il\npourrait avoir des discussions avec mes ex\u00e9cuteurs, dont il lui\nr\u00e9pugnerait fort de s'embarrasser.\nJe lui dis que si c'\u00e9taient l\u00e0 toutes les objections, je les l\u00e8verais\nbient\u00f4t et le convaincrais qu'il n'y avait pas lieu de craindre la\nmoindre difficult\u00e9; car, d'abord, pour ce qui \u00e9tait de le soup\u00e7onner, si\njamais une telle pens\u00e9e pouvait se pr\u00e9senter, c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 maintenant le\nmoment de le soup\u00e7onner et de ne pas remettre mon bien entre ses mains;\net le moment que je viendrais \u00e0 le soup\u00e7onner, il n'aurait qu'\u00e0\nabandonner son office et \u00e0 refuser de continuer; puis, pour ce qui \u00e9tait\ndes ex\u00e9cuteurs, je lui assurai que je n'avais point d'h\u00e9ritiers, ni de\nparents en Angleterre, et que je n'aurais d'autres h\u00e9ritiers ni\nex\u00e9cuteurs que lui-m\u00eame, \u00e0 moins que je changeasse ma condition, auquel\ncas son mandat et ses peines cesseraient tout ensemble, ce dont,\ntoutefois, je n'avais aucune intention; mais je lui dis que si je\nmourais en l'\u00e9tat o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, tout le bien serait \u00e0 lui, et qu'il\nl'aurait bien m\u00e9rit\u00e9 par la fid\u00e9lit\u00e9 qu'il me montrerait, ainsi que j'en\n\u00e9tais persuad\u00e9e.\nIl changea de visage sur ce discours, et me demanda comment je venais \u00e0\n\u00e9prouver tant de bon vouloir pour lui. Puis, l'air extr\u00eamement charm\u00e9,\nme dit qu'il pourrait souhaiter en tout honneur qu'il ne f\u00fbt point\nmari\u00e9, pour l'amour de moi; je souris, et lui dis que puisqu'il l'\u00e9tait,\nmon offre ne pouvait pr\u00e9tendre \u00e0 aucun dessein sur lui, que le souhait\nd'une chose qui n'\u00e9tait point permise \u00e9tait criminel envers sa femme.\nIl me r\u00e9pondit que j'avais tort; \u00abcar, dit-il, ainsi que je l'ai dit\navant, j'ai une femme, et je n'ai pas de femme et ce ne serait point un\np\u00e9ch\u00e9 de souhaiter qu'elle f\u00fbt pendue\u00bb.\n--Je ne connais rien de votre condition l\u00e0-dessus, monsieur, dis-je;\nmais ce ne saurait \u00eatre un d\u00e9sir innocent que de souhaiter la mort de\nvotre femme.\n--Je vous dis, r\u00e9p\u00e8te-t-il encore, que c'est ma femme et que ce n'est\npoint ma femme; vous ne savez pas ce que je suis ni ce qu'elle est.\n--Voil\u00e0 qui est vrai, dis-je, monsieur; je ne sais point ce que vous\n\u00eates, mais je vous prends pour un honn\u00eate homme; et c'est la cause de\ntoute la confiance que je mets en vous.\n--Bon, bon, dit-il, et je le suis; mais je suis encore autre chose,\nmadame; car, dit-il, pour parler tout net, je suis un cocu et elle est\nune p....\nIl pronon\u00e7a ces paroles d'une esp\u00e8ce de ton plaisant mais avec un\nsourire si embarrass\u00e9 que je vis bien qu'il \u00e9tait frapp\u00e9 tr\u00e8s\nprofond\u00e9ment; et son air \u00e9tait lugubre tandis qu'il parlait.\n--Voil\u00e0 qui change le cas, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, monsieur, dis-je, pour la partie\ndont vous parliez; mais un cocu, vous le savez, peut \u00eatre un honn\u00eate\nhomme, et ici le cas n'est point chang\u00e9 du tout; d'ailleurs, il me\npara\u00eet, dis-je, puisque votre femme est si d\u00e9shonn\u00eate, que vous avez\nbien trop d'honn\u00eatet\u00e9 de la garder pour femme; mais voil\u00e0 une chose,\ndis-je, o\u00f9 je n'ai point \u00e0 me m\u00ealer.\n--Oui, certes, dit-il, je songe bien \u00e0 l'\u00f4ter de dessus mes mains; car\npour vous parler net, madame, ajouta-t-il, je ne suis point cocu et\ncontent; je vous jure que j'en suis irrit\u00e9 au plus haut point; mais je\nn'y puis rien faire; celle qui veut \u00eatre p... sera p....\nJe changeai de discours, et commen\u00e7ai de parler de mon affaire, mais je\ntrouvai qu'il ne voulait pas en rester l\u00e0; de sorte que je le laissai\nparler; et il continua \u00e0 me raconter tous les d\u00e9tails de son cas, trop\nlonguement pour les rapporter ici; en particulier, qu'ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 hors\nd'Angleterre quelque temps avant de prendre la situation qu'il occupait\nmaintenant, elle, cependant, avait eu deux enfants d'un officier de\nl'ann\u00e9e, et que lorsqu'il \u00e9tait rentr\u00e9 en Angleterre, l'ayant reprise\nsur sa soumission et tr\u00e8s bien entretenue, elle s'\u00e9tait enfuie de chez\nlui avec l'apprenti d'un marchand de toiles, apr\u00e8s lui avoir vol\u00e9 tout\nce qu'elle avait pu trouver, et qu'elle continuait \u00e0 vivre hors de la\nmaison: \u00abde sorte que, madame, dit-il, elle n'est pas p... par\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9, ce qui est le commun app\u00e2t, mais par inclination, et pour\nl'amour du vice\u00bb.\nEh bien, je m'apitoyai sur lui, et lui souhaitai d'\u00eatre d\u00e9barrass\u00e9\nd'elle tout de bon, et voulus en revenir \u00e0 mon affaire, mais il n'y eut\npoint moyen; enfin, il me regarda fixement:\n--Voyez-vous, madame, vous \u00eates venue me demander conseil, et je vous\nservirai avec autant de fid\u00e9lit\u00e9 que si vous \u00e9tiez ma propre soeur; mais\nil faut que je renverse les r\u00f4les, puisque vous m'y obligez, et que vous\nmontrez tant de bont\u00e9 pour moi, et je crois qu'il faut que je vous\ndemande conseil \u00e0 mon tour; dites-moi ce qu'un pauvre homme tromp\u00e9 doit\nfaire d'une p.... Que puis-je faire pour tirer justice d'elle?\n--H\u00e9las! monsieur, dis-je, c'est un cas trop d\u00e9licat pour que je puisse\ny donner conseil, mais il me para\u00eet que puisqu'elle s'est enfuie de chez\nvous, vous vous en \u00eates bel et bien d\u00e9barrass\u00e9; que pouvez-vous d\u00e9sirer\nde plus?\n--Sans doute elle est partie, dit-il, mais je n'en ai point fini avec\nelle pour cela.\n--C'est vrai, dis-je; en effet, elle peut vous faire des dettes: mais la\nloi vous fournit des moyens pour vous garantir; vous pouvez la faire\ntrompeter, comme on dit.\n--Non, non, dit-il, ce n'est pas le cas; j'ai veill\u00e9 \u00e0 tout cela; ce\nn'est pas de cette question-l\u00e0 que je parle, mais je voudrais \u00eatre\nd\u00e9barrass\u00e9 d'elle afin de me remarier.\n--Eh bien, monsieur, dis-je alors, il faut divorcer: si vous pouvez\nprouver ce que vous dites, vous y parviendrez certainement, et alors\nvous serez libre.\n--C'est tr\u00e8s ennuyeux et tr\u00e8s co\u00fbteux, dit-il.\n--Mais, dis-je, si vous trouvez une personne qui vous plaise, pour\nparler comme vous, je suppose que votre femme ne vous disputera pas une\nlibert\u00e9 qu'elle prend elle-m\u00eame.\n--Certes, dit-il, mais il serait difficile d'amener une honn\u00eate femme\njusque-l\u00e0; et pour ce qui est des autres, dit-il, j'en ai trop endur\u00e9\navec elle, pour d\u00e9sirer avoir affaire \u00e0 de nouvelles p....\nL\u00e0-dessus, il me vint \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e: Je t'aurais pris au mot de tout mon\ncoeur, si tu m'avais seulement pos\u00e9 la question; mais je me dis cela \u00e0\npart; pour lui, je lui r\u00e9pondis:\n--Mais vous vous fermez la porte \u00e0 tout consentement d'honn\u00eate femme;\ncar vous condamnez toutes celles qui pourraient se laisser tenter, et\nvous concluez qu'une femme qui vous accepterait ne saurait \u00eatre honn\u00eate.\n--Eh bien, dit-il, je voudrais bien que vous me persuadiez qu'une\nhonn\u00eate femme m'accepterait, je vous jure que je me risquerais. Et puis\nil se tourna tout net vers moi:\n--Voulez-vous me prendre, vous, madame?\n--Voil\u00e0 qui n'est point de jeu, dis-je, apr\u00e8s ce que vous venez de dire;\npourtant, de crainte que vous pensiez que je n'attends qu'une palinodie,\nje vous dirai en bons termes: Non, pas moi; mon affaire avec vous n'est\npas celle-l\u00e0, et je ne m'attendais pas que vous eussiez tourn\u00e9 en\ncom\u00e9die la grave consultation que je venais vous demander dans ma peine.\n--Mais, madame, dit-il, ma situation est aussi p\u00e9nible que la v\u00f4tre peut\nl'\u00eatre; et je suis en aussi grand besoin de conseil que vous-m\u00eame, car\nje crois que si je ne trouve quelque consolation, je m'affolerai; et je\nne sais o\u00f9 me tourner, je vous l'assure.\n--Eh bien, monsieur, dis-je, il est plus ais\u00e9 de donner conseil dans\nvotre cas que dans le mien.\n--Parlez alors, dit-il, je vous en supplie; car voici que vous\nm'encouragez.\n--Mais, dis-je, puisque votre position est si nette, vous pouvez obtenir\nun divorce l\u00e9gal, et alors vous trouverez assez d'honn\u00eates femmes que\nvous pourrez honorablement solliciter; le sexe n'est pas si rare que\nvous ne puissiez d\u00e9couvrir ce qu'il vous faut.\n--Bon, alors, dit-il, je suis s\u00e9rieux, et j'accepte votre conseil; mais\nauparavant je veux vous poser une question tr\u00e8s grave.\n--Toute question que vous voudrez, dis-je, except\u00e9 celle de tout \u00e0\nl'heure.\n--Non, dit-il, je ne puis me contenter de cette r\u00e9ponse, car, en somme,\nc'est l\u00e0 ce que je veux vous demander.\n--Vous pouvez demander ce qu'il vous plaira, dis-je, mais je vous ai\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 r\u00e9pondu l\u00e0-dessus; d'ailleurs, monsieur, dis-je, pouvez-vous avoir\nde moi si mauvaise opinion que de penser que je r\u00e9pondrais \u00e0 une telle\nquestion faite d'avance? Est-ce que femme du monde pourrait croire que\nvous parlez s\u00e9rieusement, ou que vous avez d'autre dessein que de vous\nmoquer d'elle?\n--Mais, mais, dit-il, je ne me moque point de vous; je suis s\u00e9rieux,\npensez-y.\n--Voyons, monsieur, dis-je d'un ton un peu grave, je suis venue vous\ntrouver au sujet de mes propres affaires; je vous prie de me faire\nsavoir le parti que vous me conseillez de prendre.\n--J'y aurai r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi, dit-il, la prochaine fois que vous viendrez.\n--Oui, mais, dis-je, vous m'emp\u00eachez absolument de jamais revenir.\n--Comment cela? dit-il, l'air assez surpris.\n--Parce que, dis-je, vous ne sauriez vous attendre \u00e0 ce que je revienne\nvous voir sur le propos dont vous parlez.\n--Bon, dit-il, vous allez me promettre de revenir tout de m\u00eame, et je\nn'en soufflerai plus mot jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'aie mon divorce; mais je vous\nprie que vous vous pr\u00e9pariez \u00e0 \u00eatre en meilleure disposition quand ce\nsera fini, car vous serez ma femme, ou je ne demanderai point \u00e0\ndivorcer; voil\u00e0 ce que je dois au moins \u00e0 votre amiti\u00e9 inattendue, mais\nj'ai d'autres raisons encore.\nIl n'e\u00fbt rien pu dire au monde qui me donn\u00e2t plus de plaisir; pourtant,\nje savais que le moyen de m'assurer de lui \u00e9tait de reculer tant que la\nchose resterait aussi lointaine qu'elle semblait l'\u00eatre, et qu'il serait\ngrand temps d'accepter le moment qu'il serait libre d'agir; de sorte que\nje lui dis fort respectueusement qu'il serait assez temps de penser \u00e0\nces choses quand il serait en condition d'en parler; cependant je lui\ndis que je m'en allais tr\u00e8s loin de lui et qu'il trouverait assez\nd'objets pour lui plaire davantage. Nous bris\u00e2mes l\u00e0 pour l'instant, et\nil me fit promettre de revenir le jour suivant au sujet de ma propre\naffaire, ce \u00e0 quoi je m'accordai, apr\u00e8s m'\u00eatre fait prier; quoique s'il\nm'e\u00fbt perc\u00e9e plus profond\u00e9ment, il e\u00fbt bien vu qu'il n'y avait nul\nbesoin de me prier si fort.\nJe revins en effet le soir suivant, et j'amenai avec moi ma fille de\nchambre, afin de lui faire voir que j'avais une fille de chambre; il\nvoulait que je priasse cette fille d'attendre, mais je ne le voulus\npoint, et lui recommandai \u00e0 haute voix de revenir me chercher \u00e0 neuf\nheures; mais il s'y refusa, et me dit qu'il d\u00e9sirait me reconduire\njusque chez moi, ce dont je ne fus pas tr\u00e8s charm\u00e9e, supposant qu'il\nn'avait d'autre intention que de savoir o\u00f9 je demeurais et de s'enqu\u00e9rir\nde mon caract\u00e8re et de ma condition; pourtant je m'y risquai; car tout\nce que les gens de l\u00e0-bas savaient de moi n'\u00e9tait qu'\u00e0 mon avantage et\ntous les renseignements qu'il eut sur moi furent que j'\u00e9tais une femme\nde fortune et une personne bien modeste et bien sobre; qu'ils fussent\nvrais ou non, vous pouvez voir combien il est n\u00e9cessaire \u00e0 toutes femmes\nqui sont \u00e0 l'aff\u00fbt dans le monde de pr\u00e9server la r\u00e9putation de leur\nvertu, m\u00eame quand par fortune elles ont sacrifi\u00e9 la vertu elle-m\u00eame.\nJe trouvai, et n'en fus pas m\u00e9diocrement charm\u00e9e, qu'il avait pr\u00e9par\u00e9 un\nsouper pour moi; je trouvai aussi qu'il vivait fort grandement, et qu'il\navait une maison tr\u00e8s bien garnie, ce qui me r\u00e9jouit, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, car je\nconsid\u00e9rais tout comme \u00e9tant \u00e0 moi.\nNous e\u00fbmes maintenant une seconde conf\u00e9rence sur le m\u00eame sujet que la\nderni\u00e8re; il me serra vraiment de tr\u00e8s pr\u00e8s; il protesta de son\naffection pour moi, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je n'avais point lieu d'en douter; il\nme d\u00e9clara qu'elle avait commenc\u00e9 d\u00e8s le premier moment que je lui avais\nparl\u00e9 et longtemps avant que je lui eusse dit mon intention de lui\nconfier mon bien. \u00abPeu importe le moment o\u00f9 elle a commenc\u00e9, pensai-je,\npourvu qu'elle dure, tout ira assez bien.\u00bb Il me dit alors combien\nl'offre que je lui avais faite de lui confier ma fortune l'avait engag\u00e9.\n\u00abEt c'\u00e9tait bien l'intention que j'avais, pensai-je; mais c'est que je\ncroyais \u00e0 ce moment que tu \u00e9tais c\u00e9libataire.\u00bb Apr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes\nsoup\u00e9, je remarquai qu'il me pressait tr\u00e8s fort de boire deux ou trois\nverres de vin, ce que toutefois je refusais, mais je bus un verre ou\ndeux; puis il me dit qu'il avait une proposition \u00e0 me faire, mais qu'il\nfallait lui promettre de ne point m'en offenser, si je ne voulais m'y\naccorder; je lui dis que j'esp\u00e9rais qu'il ne me ferait pas de\nproposition peu honorable, surtout dans sa propre maison, et que si elle\n\u00e9tait telle, je le priais de ne pas la formuler, afin que je ne fusse\npoint oblig\u00e9e d'entretenir \u00e0 son \u00e9gard des sentiments qui ne\nconviendraient pas au respect que j'\u00e9prouvais pour sa personne et \u00e0 la\nconfiance que je lui avais t\u00e9moign\u00e9e en venant chez lui, et je le\nsuppliai de me permettre de partir; et en effet, je commen\u00e7ai de mettre\nmes gants et je feignis de vouloir m'en aller, ce que toutefois je\nn'entendais pas plus qu'il n'entendait me le permettre.\nEh bien, il m'importuna de ne point parler de d\u00e9part; il m'assura qu'il\n\u00e9tait bien loin de me proposer une chose qui f\u00fbt peu honorable, et que\nsi c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 ma pens\u00e9e, il n'en dirait point davantage.\nPour cette partie, je ne la go\u00fbtai en aucune fa\u00e7on; je lui dis que\nj'\u00e9tais pr\u00eate \u00e0 \u00e9couter, quoi qu'il voul\u00fbt dire, persuad\u00e9e qu'il ne\ndirait rien qui f\u00fbt indigne ou qu'il ne conv\u00eent pas que j'entendisse.\nSur quoi il me dit que sa proposition \u00e9tait la suivante: il me priait de\nl'\u00e9pouser, bien qu'il n'e\u00fbt pas obtenu encore le divorce d'avec sa\nfemme; et pour me satisfaire sur l'honn\u00eatet\u00e9 de ses intentions, il me\npromettait de ne pas me demander de vivre avec lui ou de me mettre au\nlit avec lui, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que le divorce f\u00fbt prononc\u00e9.... Mon coeur\nr\u00e9pondit \u00aboui\u00bb \u00e0 cette offre d\u00e8s les premiers mots, mais il \u00e9tait\nn\u00e9cessaire de jouer un peu l'hypocrite avec lui, de sorte que je parus\nd\u00e9cliner la motion avec quelque animation, sous le pr\u00e9texte qu'il\nn'avait point de bonne foi. Je lui dis qu'une telle proposition ne\npouvait avoir de sens, et qu'elle nous emm\u00ealerait tous deux en des\ndifficult\u00e9s inextricables, puisque si, en fin de compte, il n'obtenait\npas le divorce, pourtant nous ne pourrions dissoudre le mariage, non\nplus qu'y persister; de sorte que s'il \u00e9tait d\u00e9sappoint\u00e9 dans ce\ndivorce, je lui laissais \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer la condition o\u00f9 nous serions tous\ndeux.\nEn somme, je poussai mes arguments au point que je le convainquis que\nc'\u00e9tait une proposition o\u00f9 il n'y avait point de sens; alors il passa \u00e0\nune autre, qui \u00e9tait que je lui signerais et scellerais un contrat,\nm'engageant \u00e0 l'\u00e9pouser sit\u00f4t qu'il aurait obtenu le divorce, le contrat\n\u00e9tant nul s'il n'y pouvait parvenir.\nJe lui dis qu'il y avait plus de raison en celle-ci qu'en l'autre; mais\nque ceci \u00e9tant le premier moment o\u00f9 je pouvais imaginer qu'il e\u00fbt assez\nde faiblesse pour parler s\u00e9rieusement, je n'avais point coutume de\nr\u00e9pondre \u00aboui\u00bb\u00e0 la premi\u00e8re demande, et que j'y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chirais. Je jouais\navec cet amant comme un p\u00eacheur avec une truite; je voyais qu'il \u00e9tait\ngripp\u00e9 \u00e0 l'hame\u00e7on, de sorte que je le plaisantai sur sa nouvelle\nproposition, et que je diff\u00e9rai ma r\u00e9ponse; je lui dis qu'il \u00e9tait bien\npeu inform\u00e9 sur moi, et le priai de s'enqu\u00e9rir; je lui permis aussi de\nme reconduire \u00e0 mon logement, mais je ne voulus point lui offrir\nd'entrer, car je lui dis que ce serait peu d\u00e9cent.\nEn somme, je me risquai \u00e0 \u00e9viter de signer un contrat, et la raison que\nj'en avais est que la dame qui m'avait invit\u00e9e \u00e0 aller avec elle dans le\nLancashire y mettait tant d'insistance, et me promettait de si grandes\nfortunes, et que j'y trouverais de si belles choses, que j'eus la\ntentation d'aller essayer la fortune; peut-\u00eatre, me disais-je, que\nj'amenderai infiniment ma condition; et alors je ne me serais point fait\nscrupule de laisser l\u00e0 mon honn\u00eate bourgeois, dont je n'\u00e9tais pas si\namoureuse que je ne pusse le quitter pour un plus riche.\nEn un mot, j'\u00e9vitai le contrat; mais je lui dis que j'allais dans le\nNord, et qu'il saurait o\u00f9 m'\u00e9crire pour les affaires que je lui avais\nconfi\u00e9es; que je lui donnerais un gage suffisant du respect que\nj'entretenais pour lui, puisque je laisserais dans ses mains presque\ntout ce que je poss\u00e9dais au monde, et que je voulais bien lui promettre\nque sit\u00f4t qu'il aurait termin\u00e9 les formalit\u00e9s de son divorce, s'il\nvoulait m'en rendre compte, je viendrais \u00e0 Londres, et qu'alors nous\nparlerions s\u00e9rieusement de l'affaire.\nC'est avec un vil dessein que je partis, je dois l'avouer, quoique je\nfusse invit\u00e9e avec un dessein bien pire, ainsi que la suite le\nd\u00e9couvrira; enfin je partis avec mon amie, comme je la nommais, pour le\nLancashire. Pendant toute la route elle ne cessa de me caresser avec une\napparence extr\u00eame d'affection sinc\u00e8re et sans d\u00e9guisement; me r\u00e9gala de\ntout, sauf pour le prix du coche; et son fr\u00e8re, vint \u00e0 notre rencontre \u00e0\nWarington avec un carrosse de gentilhomme; d'o\u00f9 nous f\u00fbmes men\u00e9es \u00e0\nLiverpool avec autant de c\u00e9r\u00e9monies que j'en pouvais d\u00e9sirer.\nNous f\u00fbmes aussi entretenues fort bellement dans la maison d'un marchand\nde Liverpool pendant trois ou quatre jours; j'\u00e9viterai de donner son nom\n\u00e0 cause de ce qui suivit; puis elle me dit qu'elle voulait me conduire \u00e0\nla maison d'un de ses oncles o\u00f9 nous serions royalement entretenues; et\nson oncle, comme elle l'appelait, nous fit chercher dans un carrosse \u00e0\nquatre chevaux, qui nous emmena \u00e0 pr\u00e8s de quarante lieues je ne sais o\u00f9.\nNous arriv\u00e2mes cependant \u00e0 la maison de campagne d'un gentilhomme, o\u00f9 se\ntrouvaient une nombreuse famille, un vaste parc, une compagnie vraiment\nextraordinaire et o\u00f9 on l'appelait \u00abcousine\u00bb; je lui dis que si elle\navait r\u00e9solu de m'amener en de telles compagnies, elle e\u00fbt d\u00fb me laisser\nemporter de plus belles robes; mais les dames relev\u00e8rent mes paroles, et\nme dirent avec beaucoup de gr\u00e2ce que dans leur pays on n'estimait pas\ntant les personnes \u00e0 leurs habits qu'\u00e0 Londres; que leur cousine les\navait pleinement inform\u00e9es de ma qualit\u00e9, et que je n'avais point besoin\nde v\u00eatements pour me faire valoir; en somme elles ne m'entretinrent pas\npour ce que j'\u00e9tais, mais pour ce qu'elles pensaient que je fusse,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire une dame veuve de grande fortune.\nLa premi\u00e8re d\u00e9couverte que je fis l\u00e0 fut que la famille se composait\ntoute de catholiques romains, y compris la cousine; n\u00e9anmoins personne\nau monde n'e\u00fbt pu tenir meilleure conduite \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard, et on me\nt\u00e9moigna la m\u00eame civilit\u00e9 que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 de leur opinion. La v\u00e9rit\u00e9\nest que je n'avais pas tant de principes d'aucune sorte que je fusse\nbien d\u00e9licate en mati\u00e8re de religion; et tant\u00f4t j'appris \u00e0 parler\nfavorablement de l'\u00c9glise de Rome; je leur dis en particulier que je ne\nvoyais gu\u00e8re qu'un pr\u00e9jug\u00e9 d'\u00e9ducation dans tous les diff\u00e9rends qu'il y\navait parmi les chr\u00e9tiens sur le sujet de la religion, et que s'il se\nf\u00fbt trouv\u00e9 que mon p\u00e8re e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 catholique romain, je ne doutais point\nque j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 aussi charm\u00e9e de leur religion que de la mienne.\nCeci les obligea au plus haut point, et ainsi que j'\u00e9tais assi\u00e9g\u00e9e jour\net nuit par la belle soci\u00e9t\u00e9, et par de ravissants discours, ainsi\neus-je deux ou trois vieilles dames qui m'entreprirent aussi sur la\nreligion. Je fus si complaisante que je ne me fis point scrupule\nd'assister \u00e0 leur messe, et de me conformer \u00e0 tous leurs gestes suivant\nqu'elles m'en montraient le mod\u00e8le; mais je ne voulus point c\u00e9der sans\nprofit; de sorte que je ne fis que les encourager en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral \u00e0 esp\u00e9rer\nque je me convertirais si on m'instruisait dans la doctrine catholique,\ncomme elles disaient; si bien que la chose en resta l\u00e0.\nJe demeurai ici environ six semaines; et puis ma conductrice me ramena\ndans un village de campagne \u00e0 six lieues environ de Liverpool, o\u00f9 son\nfr\u00e8re, comme elle le nommait, vint me rendre visite dans son propre\ncarrosse, avec deux valets de pied en bonne livr\u00e9e; et tout aussit\u00f4t il\nse mit \u00e0 me faire l'amour. Ainsi qu'il se trouva, on e\u00fbt pu penser que\nje ne saurais \u00eatre pip\u00e9e, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 c'est ce que je croyais, sachant\nque j'avais une carte s\u00fbre \u00e0 Londres, que j'avais r\u00e9solu de ne pas\nl\u00e2cher \u00e0 moins de trouver beaucoup mieux. Pourtant, selon toute\napparence, ce fr\u00e8re \u00e9tait un parti qui valait bien qu'on l'\u00e9cout\u00e2t, et\nle moins qu'on \u00e9valu\u00e2t son bien \u00e9tait un revenu annuel de 1 000 livres;\nmais la soeur disait que les terres en valaient 1 500, et qu'elles se\ntrouvaient pour la plus grande partie en Irlande.\nMoi qui \u00e9tais une grande fortune, et qui passais pour telle, j'\u00e9tais\nbien trop \u00e9lev\u00e9e pour qu'on os\u00e2t me demander quel \u00e9tait mon \u00e9tat; et ma\nfausse amie, s'\u00e9tant fi\u00e9e \u00e0 de sots racontars, l'avait grossie de 500 \u00e0\n5 000 livres, et dans le moment que nous arriv\u00e2mes dans son pays, elle\nen avait fait 15 000 livres. L'Irlandais, car tel je l'entendis \u00eatre,\ncourut sur l'app\u00e2t comme un forcen\u00e9; en somme, il me fit la cour,\nm'envoya des cadeaux, s'endetta comme un fou dans les d\u00e9penses qu'il fit\npour me courtiser; il avait, pour lui rendre justice, l'apparence d'un\ngentilhomme d'une \u00e9l\u00e9gance extr\u00eame; il \u00e9tait grand, bien fait, et d'une\nadresse extraordinaire; parlait aussi naturellement de son parc et de\nses \u00e9curies, de ses chevaux, ses gardes-chasses, ses bois, ses fermiers\net ses domestiques, que s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 dans un manoir et que je les eusse\nvus tous autour de moi.\nIl ne fit jamais tant que me demander rien au sujet de ma fortune ou de\nmon \u00e9tat; mais m'assura que, lorsque nous irions \u00e0 Dublin, il me\ndoterait d'une bonne terre qui rapportait 600 livres par an, et qu'il\ns'y engagerait en me la constituant par acte ou par contrat, afin d'en\nassurer l'ex\u00e9cution.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, un langage auquel je n'avais point \u00e9t\u00e9 habitu\u00e9e,\net je me trouvais hors de toutes mes mesures; j'avais \u00e0 mon sein un\nd\u00e9mon femelle qui me r\u00e9p\u00e9tait \u00e0 toute heure combien son fr\u00e8re vivait\nlargement; tant\u00f4t elle venait prendre mes ordres pour savoir comment je\nd\u00e9sirais faire peindre mon carrosse, comment je voulais le faire garnir;\ntant\u00f4t pour me demander la couleur de la livr\u00e9e de mon page; en somme\nmes yeux \u00e9taient \u00e9blouis; j'avais maintenant perdu le pouvoir de\nr\u00e9pondre \u00abnon\u00bb, et, pour couper court \u00e0 l'histoire, je consentis au\nmariage; mais, pour \u00eatre plus priv\u00e9s, nous nous f\u00eemes mener plus \u00e0\nl'int\u00e9rieur du pays, et nous f\u00fbmes mari\u00e9s par un pr\u00eatre qui, j'en \u00e9tais\nassur\u00e9e, nous marierait aussi effectivement qu'un pasteur de l'\u00c9glise\nanglicane.\nJe ne puis dire que je n'eus point \u00e0 cette occasion quelques r\u00e9flexions\nsur l'abandon d\u00e9shonn\u00eate que je faisais de mon fid\u00e8le bourgeois, qui\nm'aimait sinc\u00e8rement, et qui, s'effor\u00e7ant de se d\u00e9p\u00eatrer d'une\nscandaleuse coquine dont il avait re\u00e7u un traitement barbare, se\npromettait infiniment de bonheur dans son nouveau choix: lequel choix\nvenait de se livrer \u00e0 un autre d'une fa\u00e7on presque aussi scandaleuse que\nla femme qu'il voulait quitter.\nMais l'\u00e9clat scintillant du grand \u00e9tat et des belles choses que celui\nque j'avais tromp\u00e9 et qui \u00e9tait maintenant mon trompeur ne cessait de\nrepr\u00e9senter \u00e0 mon imagination, m'entra\u00eena bien loin et ne me laissa\npoint le temps de penser \u00e0 Londres, ou \u00e0 chose qui y f\u00fbt, bien moins \u00e0\nl'obligation que j'avais envers une personne d'infiniment plus de m\u00e9rite\nr\u00e9el que ce qui \u00e9tait devant moi \u00e0 l'heure pr\u00e9sente.\nMais la chose \u00e9tait faite; j'\u00e9tais maintenant dans les bras de mon\nnouvel \u00e9poux, qui paraissait toujours le m\u00eame qu'auparavant; grand\njusqu'\u00e0 la magnificence; et rien moins que mille livres par an ne\npouvaient suffire \u00e0 l'ordinaire \u00e9quipage o\u00f9 il paraissait.\nApr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes \u00e9t\u00e9 mari\u00e9s environ un mois, il commen\u00e7a \u00e0 parler de\nnotre d\u00e9part pour West-Chester, afin de nous embarquer pour l'Irlande.\nCependant il ne me pressa point, car nous demeur\u00e2mes encore pr\u00e8s de\ntrois semaines; et puis il envoya chercher \u00e0 Chester un carrosse qui\ndevait venir nous rencontrer au Rocher-Noir comme on le nomme, vis-\u00e0-vis\nde Liverpool. L\u00e0 nous all\u00e2mes en un beau bateau qu'on appelle pinasse, \u00e0\nsix rames; ses domestiques, chevaux et bagages furent transport\u00e9s par un\nbac. Il me fit ses excuses pour n'avoir point de connaissances \u00e0\nChester, mais me dit qu'il partirait en avant afin de me retenir quelque\nbel appartement dans une maison priv\u00e9e; je lui demandai combien de temps\nnous s\u00e9journerions \u00e0 Chester. Il me r\u00e9pondit \u00abPoint du tout; pas plus\nqu'une nuit ou deux\u00bb, mais qu'il louerait imm\u00e9diatement un carrosse pour\naller \u00e0 Holyhead; alors je lui dis qu'il ne devait nullement se donner\nla peine de chercher un logement priv\u00e9 pour une ou deux nuits; car,\nChester \u00e9tant une grande ville, je n'avais point de doute qu'il n'y e\u00fbt\nl\u00e0 de fort bonnes h\u00f4telleries, dont nous pourrions assez nous\naccommoder; de sorte que nous loge\u00e2mes dans une h\u00f4tellerie qui n'est pas\nloin de la cath\u00e9drale; j'ai oubli\u00e9 quelle en \u00e9tait l'enseigne.\nIci mon \u00e9poux, parlant de mon passage en Irlande, me demanda si je\nn'avais point d'affaires \u00e0 r\u00e9gler \u00e0 Londres avant de partir; je lui dis\nque non, ou du moins, point qui eussent grande importance, et que je ne\npusse traiter tout aussi bien par lettre de Dublin.\n--Madame, dit-il fort respectueusement, je suppose que la plus grande\npartie de votre bien, que ma soeur me dit \u00eatre d\u00e9pos\u00e9 principalement en\nargent liquide \u00e0 la Banque d'Angleterre, est assez en s\u00fbret\u00e9; mais au\ncas o\u00f9 il faudrait op\u00e9rer quelque transfert, ou changement de titre, il\npourrait \u00eatre n\u00e9cessaire de nous rendre \u00e0 Londres et de r\u00e9gler tout cela\navant de passer l'eau.\nJe parus l\u00e0-dessus faire \u00e9trange mine, et lui dis que je ne savais point\nce qu'il voulait dire; que je n'avais point d'effets \u00e0 la Banque\nd'Angleterre qui fussent \u00e0 ma connaissance, et que j'esp\u00e9rais qu'il ne\npouvait dire que je lui eusse pr\u00e9tendu en avoir. Non, dit-il, je ne lui\nen avais nullement parl\u00e9; mais sa soeur lui avait dit que la plus grande\npartie de ma fortune \u00e9tait d\u00e9pos\u00e9e l\u00e0.\n--Et si j'y ai fait allusion, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, c'\u00e9tait seulement afin\nque, s'il y avait quelque occasion de r\u00e9gler vos affaires ou de les\nmettre en ordre, nous ne fussions pas oblig\u00e9s au hasard et \u00e0 la peine\nd'un voyage de retour;--car, ajoutait-il, il ne se souciait gu\u00e8re de me\nvoir trop me risquer en mer.\nJe fus surprise de ce langage et commen\u00e7ai de me demander quel pouvait\nen \u00eatre le sens, quand soudain il me vint \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e que mon amie, qui\nl'appelait son fr\u00e8re, m'avait repr\u00e9sent\u00e9e \u00e0 lui sous de fausses\ncouleurs; et je me dis que j'irais au fond de cette affaire avant de\nquitter l'Angleterre et avant de me remettre en des mains inconnues,\ndans un pays \u00e9tranger.\nL\u00e0-dessus, j'appelai sa soeur dans ma chambre le matin suivant, et, lui\nfaisant conna\u00eetre le discours que j'avais eu avec son fr\u00e8re, je la\nsuppliai de me r\u00e9p\u00e9ter ce qu'elle lui avait dit, et sur quel fondement\nelle avait fait ce mariage. Elle m'avoua lui avoir assur\u00e9 que j'\u00e9tais\nune grande fortune, et s'excusa sur ce qu'on le lui avait dit \u00e0 Londres.\n--_On_ vous l'a dit, repris-je avec chaleur; est-ce que moi, je vous\nl'ai jamais dit?\n--Non, dit-elle; il \u00e9tait vrai que je ne le lui avais jamais dit, mais\nj'avais dit \u00e0 plusieurs reprises que ce que j'avais \u00e9tait \u00e0 ma pleine\ndisposition.\n--Oui, en effet, r\u00e9pliquai-je tr\u00e8s vivement, mais jamais je ne vous ai\ndit que je poss\u00e9dais ce qu'on appelle une fortune; non, que j'avais\n100\u00a3, ou la valeur de 100\u00a3, et que c'\u00e9tait tout ce j'avais au monde; et\ncomment cela s'accorderait-il avec cette pr\u00e9tention que je suis une\nfortune, dis-je, que je sois venue avec vous dans le nord de\nl'Angleterre dans la seule intention de vivre \u00e0 bon march\u00e9?\nSur ces paroles que je criai avec chaleur et \u00e0 haute voix, mon mari\nentra dans la chambre, et je le priai d'entrer et de s'asseoir, par\u00e9e\nque j'avais \u00e0 dire devant eux deux une chose d'importance, qu'il \u00e9tait\nabsolument n\u00e9cessaire qu'il entend\u00eet.\nIl eut l'air un peu troubl\u00e9 de l'assurance avec laquelle je semblais\nparler, et vint s'asseoir pr\u00e8s de moi, ayant d'abord ferm\u00e9 la porte; sur\nquoi je commen\u00e7ai, car j'\u00e9tais extr\u00eamement \u00e9chauff\u00e9e, et, me tournant\nvers lui:\n--J'ai bien peur, dis je, mon ami (car je m'adressai \u00e0 lui avec\ndouceur), qu'on ait affreusement abus\u00e9 de vous et qu'on vous ait fait un\ntort qui ne pourra point se r\u00e9parer, en vous amenant \u00e0 m'\u00e9pouser; mais\ncomme je n'y ai aucune part, je demande \u00e0 \u00eatre quitte de tout bl\u00e2me, et\nqu'il soit rejet\u00e9 l\u00e0 o\u00f9 il est juste qu'il tombe, nulle part ailleurs,\ncar pour moi, je m'en lave enti\u00e8rement les mains.\n--Quel tort puis-je avoir \u00e9prouv\u00e9, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, en vous \u00e9pousant?\nJ'esp\u00e8re que de toutes mani\u00e8res j'en ai tir\u00e9 honneur et avantage.\n--Je vous l'expliquerai tout \u00e0 l'heure, lui dis-je, et je crains que\nvous n'ayez trop de raison de vous juger fort maltrait\u00e9; mais je vous\nconvaincrai, mon ami, dis-je encore, que je n'y ai point eu de part.\nIl prit alors un air d'effarement et de stupeur, et commen\u00e7a, je crois,\nde soup\u00e7onner ce qui allait suivre; pourtant, il me regarda, en disant\nseulement: \u00abContinuez\u00bb; il demeura assis, silencieux, comme pour \u00e9couter\nce que j'avais encore \u00e0 dire; de sorte que je continuai:\n--Je vous ai demand\u00e9 hier soir, dis-je, en m'adressant \u00e0 lui, si jamais\nje vous ai fait parade de mon bien, ou si je vous ai dit jamais que\nj'eusse quelque fortune d\u00e9pos\u00e9e \u00e0 la Banque d'Angleterre ou ailleurs, et\nvous avez reconnu que non, ce qui est tr\u00e8s vrai; et je vous prie que\nvous me disiez ici, devant votre soeur, si jamais je vous ai donn\u00e9\nquelque raison de penser de telles choses, ou si jamais nous avons eu\naucun discours sur ce sujet.--Et il reconnut encore que non; mais dit\nque je lui avais toujours sembl\u00e9 femme de fortune, qu'il \u00e9tait persuad\u00e9\nque je le fusse, et qu'il esp\u00e9rait n'avoir point \u00e9t\u00e9 tromp\u00e9.\n--Je ne vous demande pas si vous avez \u00e9t\u00e9 tromp\u00e9, dis-je; mais je le\ncrains bien, et de l'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 moi-m\u00eame; mais je veux me justifier\nd'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 m\u00eal\u00e9e dans cette tromperie. Je viens maintenant de demander\n\u00e0 votre soeur si jamais je lui ai parl\u00e9 de fortune ou de bien que\nj'eusse, ou si je lui ai donn\u00e9 les d\u00e9tails l\u00e0-dessus; et elle avoue que\nnon. Et je vous prie, madame, dis-je, d'avoir assez de justice pour\nm'accuser si vous le pouvez: vous ai-je jamais pr\u00e9tendu que j'eusse du\nbien? Pourquoi, si j'en avais eu, serais-je venue jamais avec vous dans\nce pays afin d'\u00e9pargner le peu que je poss\u00e9dais et de vivre \u00e0 bon\nmarch\u00e9?--Elle ne put nier, mais dit qu'on lui avait assur\u00e9 \u00e0 Londres que\nj'avais une tr\u00e8s grande fortune, qui \u00e9tait d\u00e9pos\u00e9e \u00e0 la Banque\nd'Angleterre.\n--Et maintenant, cher monsieur, dis-je en me retournant vers mon nouvel\n\u00e9poux, ayez la justice de me dire qui nous a tant dup\u00e9s, vous et moi,\nque de vous faire croire que j'\u00e9tais une fortune et de vous pousser \u00e0 me\nsolliciter de mariage.\nIl ne put dire une parole, mais montra sa soeur du doigt, et apr\u00e8s un\nsilence \u00e9clata dans la plus furieuse col\u00e8re o\u00f9 j'aie vu homme du monde;\nil l'injuria et la traita de tous les noms et des plus grossiers qu'il\nput trouver; lui cria qu'elle l'avait ruin\u00e9, d\u00e9clarant qu'elle lui avait\ndit que j'avais 15 000\u00a3, et qu'elle devait en recevoir 500 de sa main\npour lui avoir procur\u00e9 cette alliance; puis il ajouta, s'adressant \u00e0\nmoi, qu'elle n'\u00e9tait point du tout sa soeur, mais qu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 sa\np..., depuis tant\u00f4t deux ans; qu'elle avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 re\u00e7u de lui 100\u00a3\nd'acompte sur cette affaire, et qu'il \u00e9tait enti\u00e8rement perdu si les\nchoses \u00e9taient comme je le disais; et dans sa divagation, il jura qu'il\nallait sur-le-champ lui tirer le sang du coeur, ce qui la terrifia, et\nmoi aussi. Elle cria qu'on lui avait dit tout cela dans la maison o\u00f9 je\nlogeais; mais ceci l'irrita encore plus qu'avant, qu'elle e\u00fbt os\u00e9 le\nfaire aller si loin, n'ayant point d'autre autorit\u00e9 qu'un ou\u00ef-dire; et\npuis, se retournant vers moi, dit tr\u00e8s honn\u00eatement qu'il craignait que\nnous fussions perdus tout deux; \u00abcar, \u00e0 dire vrai, ma ch\u00e9rie, je n'ai\npoint de bien, dit-il; et le peu que j'avais, ce d\u00e9mon me l'a fait\ndissiper pour me maintenir en cet \u00e9quipage\u00bb. Elle saisit l'occasion\nqu'il me parlait s\u00e9rieusement pour s'\u00e9chapper de la chambre, et je ne la\nrevis plus jamais.\nJ'\u00e9tais confondue maintenant autant que lui, et ne savais que dire; je\npensais de bien des mani\u00e8res avoir entendu le pire; mais lorsqu'il dit\nqu'il \u00e9tait perdu et qu'il n'avait non plus de bien, je fus jet\u00e9e dans\nl'\u00e9garement pur.\n--Quoi! lui dis-je, mais c'est une fourberie infernale! Car nous sommes\nmari\u00e9s ici sur le pied d'une double fraude: vous paraissez perdu de\nd\u00e9sappointement, et si j'avais eu une fortune, j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 dupe, moi\naussi, puisque vous dites que vous n'avez rien.\n--Vous auriez \u00e9t\u00e9 dupe, oui vraiment, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, mais vous\nn'auriez point \u00e9t\u00e9 perdue; car 15 000\u00a3 nous auraient entretenus tous\ndeux fort bravement dans ce pays; et j'avais r\u00e9solu de vous en consacrer\njusqu'au dernier denier; je ne vous aurais pas fait tort d'un shilling,\net j'aurais pay\u00e9 le reste de mon affection et de la tendresse que je\nvous aurais montr\u00e9e pendant tout le temps de ma vie.\nC'\u00e9tait fort honn\u00eate, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; et je crois r\u00e9ellement qu'il parlait\nainsi qu'il l'entendait, et que c'\u00e9tait un homme aussi propre \u00e0 me\nrendre heureuse par son humeur et sa conduite qu'homme du monde; mais \u00e0\ncause qu'il n'avait pas de bien, et qu'il s'\u00e9tait endett\u00e9 sur ce\nridicule dessein dans le pays o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions, l'avenir paraissait morne\net affreux, et je ne savais que dire ni que penser.\nJe lui dis qu'il \u00e9tait bien malheureux que tant d'amour et tant de\nbonnes intentions que je trouvais en lui fussent ainsi pr\u00e9cipit\u00e9s dans\nla mis\u00e8re; que je ne voyais rien devant nous que la ruine; quant \u00e0 moi,\nque c'\u00e9tait mon infortune que le peu que j'avais ne p\u00fbt suffire \u00e0 nous\nfaire passer la semaine; sur quoi je tirai de ma poche un billet de\nbanque de 20\u00a3 et onze guin\u00e9es que je lui dis avoir \u00e9pargn\u00e9es sur mon\npetit revenu: et que par le r\u00e9cit que m'avait fait cette cr\u00e9ature de la\nmani\u00e8re dont on vivait dans le pays o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions, je m'attendais que\ncet argent m'e\u00fbt entretenue trois ou quatre ans; que s'il m'\u00e9tait \u00f4t\u00e9,\nje serais d\u00e9nu\u00e9e de tout, et qu'il savait bien qu'elle devait \u00eatre la\ncondition d'une femme qui n'avait point d'argent dans sa poche;\npourtant, je lui dis que s'il voulait le prendre, il \u00e9tait l\u00e0.\nIl me dit avec beaucoup de chagrin, et je crus que je voyais des larmes\ndans ses yeux, qu'il ne voulait point y toucher, qu'il avait horreur de\nla pens\u00e9e de me d\u00e9pouiller et de me r\u00e9duire \u00e0 la mis\u00e8re; qu'il lui\nrestait cinquante guin\u00e9es, qui \u00e9taient tout ce qu'il avait au monde, et\nil les tira de sa poche et les jeta sur la table, en me priant de les\nprendre, quand il d\u00fbt mourir de faim par le manque qu'il en aurait.\nJe r\u00e9pondis, en lui t\u00e9moignant un int\u00e9r\u00eat pareil, que je ne pouvais\nsupporter de l'entendre parler ainsi; qu'au contraire, s'il pouvait\nproposer quelque mani\u00e8re de vivre qui f\u00fbt possible, que je ferais de mon\nmieux, et que je vivrais aussi strictement qu'il pourrait le d\u00e9sirer.\nIl me supplia de ne plus parler en cette fa\u00e7on, \u00e0 cause qu'il en serait\naffol\u00e9; il dit qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9lev\u00e9 en gentilhomme, quoiqu'il f\u00fbt\nr\u00e9duit \u00e0 une fortune si basse, et qu'il ne restait plus qu'un moyen\nauquel il p\u00fbt penser, et qui m\u00eame ne se saurait employer, \u00e0 moins que je\nne consentisse \u00e0 lui r\u00e9pondre sur une question \u00e0 laquelle toutefois il\ndit qu'il ne voulait point m'obliger; je lui dis que j'y r\u00e9pondrais\nhonn\u00eatement, mais que je ne pouvais dire si ce serait \u00e0 sa satisfaction\nou autrement.\n--Eh bien, alors, ma ch\u00e9rie, r\u00e9pondez-moi franchement, dit-il: est-ce\nque le peu que vous avez pourra nous maintenir tous deux en bravoure, ou\nnous permettre de vivre en s\u00e9curit\u00e9, ou non?\nCe fut mon bonheur de ne point m'\u00eatre d\u00e9couverte, ni ma condition,\naucunement; non, pas m\u00eame mon nom; et voyant qu'il n'y avait rien \u00e0\nattendre de lui, quelque bonne humeur et quelque honn\u00eatet\u00e9 qu'il par\u00fbt\navoir, sinon qu'il vivrait sur ce que je savais devoir bient\u00f4t \u00eatre\ndissip\u00e9, je r\u00e9solus de cacher tout, sauf le billet de banque et les onze\nguin\u00e9es, et j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 bien heureuse de les avoir perdus, au prix qu'il\nm'e\u00fbt remise o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais avant que de me prendre. J'avais vraiment sur\nmoi un autre billet de 30\u00a3 qui \u00e9tait tout ce que j'avais apport\u00e9 avec\nmoi, autant pour en vivre dans le pays, que ne sachant point l'occasion\nqui pourrait s'offrir: parce que cette cr\u00e9ature, l'entremetteuse, qui\nnous avait ainsi trahis tous deux, m'avait fait accroire d'\u00e9tranges\nchoses sur les mariages avantageux que je pourrais rencontrer, et il ne\nme plaisait point d'\u00eatre sans argent, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt advenir. Ce billet,\nje le cachai; ce qui me fit plus g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse, du reste, en consid\u00e9ration\nde son \u00e9tat, car vraiment j'avais piti\u00e9 de lui de tout mon coeur.\nMais pour revenir \u00e0 cette question, je lui dis que jamais je ne l'avais\ndup\u00e9 de mon gr\u00e9 et que jamais je ne le ferais. J'\u00e9tais bien f\u00e2ch\u00e9e de\nlui dire que le peu que je poss\u00e9dais ne nous entretiendrait pas tous\ndeux; que je n'en aurais point eu assez pour subsister seule dans le\npays du Sud, et que c'\u00e9tait la raison qui m'avait fait me remettre aux\nmains de cette femme qui l'appelait fr\u00e8re, \u00e0 cause qu'elle m'avait\nassur\u00e9 que je pourrais vivre tr\u00e8s bravement dans une ville du nom de\nManchester, o\u00f9 je n'avais point encore \u00e9t\u00e9, pour environ 6\u00a3 par an, et\ntout mon revenu ne d\u00e9passant pas 15\u00a3 par an, je pensais que je pourrais\nen vivre facilement en attendant de meilleurs jours.\nIl secoua la t\u00eate et demeura silencieux, et nous pass\u00e2mes une soir\u00e9e\nbien m\u00e9lancolique; pourtant, nous soup\u00e2mes tous doux et nous demeur\u00e2mes\nensemble cette nuit-l\u00e0, et quand nous f\u00fbmes pr\u00e8s d'avoir fini de souper,\nil prit un air un peu meilleur et plus joyeux, et fit apporter une\nbouteille de vin:\n--Allons, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, quoique le cas soit mauvais, il ne sert de\nrien de se laisser abattre. Allons, n'ayez point d'inqui\u00e9tude; je\nt\u00e2cherai \u00e0 trouver quelque moyen de vivre; si seulement vous pouvez vous\nentretenir seule, cela vaut mieux que rien; moi, je tenterai de nouveau\nla fortune; il faut qu'un homme pense en homme; se laisser d\u00e9courager,\nc'est c\u00e9der \u00e0 l'infortune. L\u00e0-dessus, il emplit un verre et but \u00e0 ma\nsant\u00e9, tandis qu'il me tenait la main tout le temps que le vin coulait\ndans sa gorge, puis m'assura que son principal souci \u00e9tait \u00e0 mon sujet.\nIl \u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement d'esprit brave et galant, et j'en \u00e9tais d'autant\nplus pein\u00e9e. Il y a quelque soulagement m\u00eame \u00e0 \u00eatre d\u00e9faite par un homme\nd'honneur plut\u00f4t que par un coquin; mais ici le plus grand\nd\u00e9sappointement \u00e9tait sur sa part, car il avait vraiment d\u00e9pens\u00e9\nabondance d'argent, et il faut remarquer sur quelles pauvres raisons\nelle s'\u00e9tait avanc\u00e9e; d'abord, il convient d'observer la bassesse de la\ncr\u00e9ature, qui, pour gagner 100\u00a3 elle-m\u00eame, eut l'indignit\u00e9 de lui en\nlaisser d\u00e9penser trois ou quatre fois plus, bien que ce f\u00fbt peut-\u00eatre\ntout ce qu'il avait au monde, et davantage; alors qu'elle n'avait pas\nplus de fondement qu'un petit habit autour d'une table \u00e0 th\u00e9 nous\nassurer que j'eusse quelque \u00e9tat, ou que je fusse une fortune, ou chose\nqui f\u00fbt.\nIl est vrai que le dessein de duper une femme de fortune, si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9\ntelle, montrait assez de vilenie; et de mettre l'apparence de grandeurs\nsur une pauvre condition n'\u00e9tait que de la fourberie, et bien m\u00e9chante;\nmais le cas diff\u00e9rait un peu, et en sa faveur \u00e0 lui: car il n'\u00e9tait pas\nde ces gueux qui font m\u00e9tier de duper des femmes, ainsi que l'ont fait\ncertains, et de happer six ou sept fortunes l'une apr\u00e8s l'autre, pour\nles rafler et d\u00e9camper ensuite; mais c'\u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 un gentilhomme,\ninfortun\u00e9, et tomb\u00e9 bas, mais qui avait v\u00e9cu en bonne fa\u00e7on; et quand\nm\u00eame j'eusse eu de la fortune, j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 tout enrag\u00e9e contre la\nfriponne, pour m'avoir trahie; toutefois, vraiment, pour ce qui est de\nl'homme, une fortune n'aurait point \u00e9t\u00e9 mal plac\u00e9e sur lui, car c'\u00e9tait\nune personne charmante, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, de principes g\u00e9n\u00e9reux, de bon sens,\net qui avait abondance de bonne humeur.\nNous e\u00fbmes quantit\u00e9 de conversations intimes cette nuit-l\u00e0, car aucun de\nnous ne dormit beaucoup; il \u00e9tait aussi repentant d'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 la cause\nde toutes ces duperies, que si c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 de la f\u00e9lonie, et qu'il march\u00e2t\nau supplice; il m'offrit encore jusqu'au dernier shilling qu'il avait\nsur lui, et dit qu'il voulait partir \u00e0 l'arm\u00e9e pour t\u00e2cher \u00e0 en gagner.\nJe lui demandai pourquoi il avait eu la cruaut\u00e9 de vouloir m'emmener en\nIrlande, quand il pouvait supposer que je n'eusse point pu y subsister.\nIl me prit dans ses bras:\n--Mon coeur, dit-il, je n'ai jamais eu dessein d'aller en Irlande, bien\nmoins de vous y emmener; mais je suis venu ici pour \u00e9chapper \u00e0\nl'observation des gens qui avaient entendu ce que je pr\u00e9tendais faire,\net afin que personne ne p\u00fbt me demander de l'argent avant que je fusse\ngarni pour leur en donner.\n--Mais o\u00f9 donc alors, dis-je, devions-nous aller ensuite?\n--Eh bien, mon coeur, dit-il, je vais donc vous avouer tout le plan,\nainsi que je l'avais dispos\u00e9; j'avais intention ici de vous interroger\nquelque peu sur votre \u00e9tat, comme vous voyez que j'ai fait; et quand\nvous m'auriez rendu compte des d\u00e9tails, ainsi que je m'attendais que\nvous feriez, j'aurais imagin\u00e9 une excuse pour remettre notre voyage en\nIrlande \u00e0 un autre temps, et nous serions partis pour Londres. Puis, mon\ncoeur, dit-il, j'\u00e9tais d\u00e9cid\u00e9 \u00e0 vous avouer toute la condition de mes\npropres affaires, et \u00e0 vous faire savoir qu'en effet j'avais us\u00e9 de ces\nfinesses pour obtenir votre acquiescement \u00e0 m'\u00e9pouser, mais qu'il ne me\nrestait plus qu'\u00e0 vous demander pardon et \u00e0 vous dire avec quelle ardeur\nje m'efforcerais \u00e0 vous faire oublier ce qui \u00e9tait pass\u00e9 par la f\u00e9licit\u00e9\ndes jours \u00e0 venir.\n--Vraiment, lui dis-je, et je trouve que vous m'auriez vite conquise; et\nc'est ma douleur maintenant que de n'\u00eatre point en \u00e9tat de vous montrer\navec quelle aisance je me serais laiss\u00e9 r\u00e9concilier \u00e0 vous, et comme je\nvous aurais pass\u00e9 tous ces tours en r\u00e9compense de tant de bonne humeur;\nmais, mon ami, dis-je, que faire maintenant? Nous sommes perdus tous\ndeux, et en quoi sommes-nous mieux pour nous \u00eatre accord\u00e9s, puisque nous\nn'avons pas de quoi vivre?\nNous propos\u00e2mes un grand nombre de choses; mais rien ne pouvait s'offrir\no\u00f9 il n'y avait rien pour d\u00e9buter. Il me supplia enfin de n'en plus\nparler, car, disait-il, je lui briserais le coeur; de sorte que nous\nparl\u00e2mes un peu sur d'autres sujets, jusqu'enfin il prit cong\u00e9 de moi en\nmari, et puis s'endormit.\nIl se leva avant moi le matin, et vraiment, moi qui \u00e9tais rest\u00e9e\n\u00e9veill\u00e9e presque toute la nuit, j'avais tr\u00e8s grand sommeil et je\ndemeurai couch\u00e9e jusqu'\u00e0 pr\u00e8s d'onze heures. Pendant ce temps, il prit\nses chevaux, et trois domestiques, avec tout son linge et ses hardes, et\nle voil\u00e0 parti, ne me laissant qu'une lettre courte, mais \u00e9mouvante, sur\nla table, et que voici:\n\u00abMa ch\u00e9rie,\n\u00abJe suis un chien; je vous ai dup\u00e9e; mais j'y ai \u00e9t\u00e9 entra\u00een\u00e9 par une\nvile cr\u00e9ature, contrairement \u00e0 mes principes et \u00e0 l'ordinaire coutume de\nma vie. Pardonnez-moi, ma ch\u00e9rie! Je vous demande pardon avec la plus\nextr\u00eame sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9; je suis le plus mis\u00e9rable des hommes, de vous avoir\nd\u00e9\u00e7ue; j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 si heureux que de vous poss\u00e9der, et maintenant je suis\nsi pitoyablement malheureux que d'\u00eatre forc\u00e9 de fuir loin de vous.\nPardonnez-moi, ma ch\u00e9rie! Encore une fois, je le dis, pardonnez-moi! Je\nne puis supporter de vous voir ruin\u00e9e par moi, et moi-m\u00eame incapable de\nvous soutenir. Notre mariage n'est rien; je n'aurai jamais la force de\nvous revoir; je vous d\u00e9clare ici que vous \u00eates libre; si vous pouvez\nvous marier \u00e0 votre avantage, ne refusez pas en songeant \u00e0 moi; je vous\njure ici sur ma foi et sur la parole d'un homme d'honneur de ne jamais\ntroubler votre repos si je l'apprends, ce qui toutefois n'est pas\nprobable; d'autre part, si vous ne vous mariez pas, et si je rencontre\nune bonne fortune, tout cela sera pour vous, o\u00f9 que vous soyez.\n\u00abJ'ai mis une partie de la provision d'argent qui me restait dans votre\npoche; prenez des places pour vous et pour votre servante dans le coche,\net allez \u00e0 Londres; j'esp\u00e8re qu'il suffira aux frais, sans que vous\nentamiez le v\u00f4tre. Encore une fois, je vous demande pardon de tout\ncoeur, et je le ferai aussi souvent que je penserai \u00e0 vous.\n\u00abAdieu, ma ch\u00e9rie, pour toujours.\n\u00abJe suis \u00e0 vous en toute affection.\nRien de ce qui me survint jamais dans ma vie ne tomba si bas dans mon\ncoeur que cet adieu; je lui reprochai mille fois dans mes pens\u00e9es de\nm'avoir abandonn\u00e9e; car je serais all\u00e9e avec lui au bout du monde,\nm'e\u00fbt-il fallu mendier mon pain. Je t\u00e2tai dans ma poche; et l\u00e0 je\ntrouvai dix guin\u00e9es, sa montre en or et deux petits anneaux, une petite\nbague de diamant qui ne valait gu\u00e8re que 6\u00a3 et un simple anneau d'or.\nJe tombai assise et je regardai fixement ces objets pendant deux heures\nsans discontinuer, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que ma fille de chambre vint m'interrompre\npour me dire que le d\u00eener \u00e9tait pr\u00eat: je ne mangeai que peu, et apr\u00e8s\nd\u00eener il me prit un violent acc\u00e8s de larmes; et toujours je l'appelais\npar son nom, qui \u00e9tait James:\n--\u00d4 Jemmy! criais-je, reviens! reviens! je te donnerai tout ce que j'ai;\nje mendierai, je mourrai de faim avec toi. Et ainsi je courais, folle,\npar la chambre, \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0; et puis je m'asseyais entre temps; et puis je\nmarchais de nouveau en long et en large, et puis je sanglotais encore;\net ainsi je passai l'apr\u00e8s-midi jusqu'environ sept heures, que tomba le\ncr\u00e9puscule du soir (c'\u00e9tait au mois d'ao\u00fbt), quand, \u00e0 ma surprise\nindicible, le voici revenir \u00e0 l'h\u00f4tellerie et monter tout droit \u00e0 ma\nchambre.\nJe fus dans la plus grande confusion qu'on puisse s'imaginer, et lui\npareillement; je ne pouvais deviner quelle \u00e9tait l'occasion de son\nretour, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me demander si j'en devais \u00eatre heureuse ou\nf\u00e2ch\u00e9e; mais mon affection inclina tout le reste, et il me fut\nimpossible de dissimuler ma joie, qui \u00e9tait trop grande pour des\nsourires, car elle se r\u00e9pandit en larmes. \u00c0 peine fut-il entr\u00e9 dans la\nchambre, qu'il courut \u00e0 moi et me prit dans ses bras, me tenant serr\u00e9e,\net m'\u00e9touffant presque l'haleine sous ses baisers, mais ne dit pas une\nparole. Enfin je commen\u00e7ai:\n--Mon amour, dis-je, comment as-tu pu t'en aller loin de moi?\n\u00c0 quoi il ne fit pas de r\u00e9ponse, car il lui \u00e9tait impossible de parler.\nQuand nos extases furent un peu pass\u00e9es, il me dit qu'il \u00e9tait all\u00e9 \u00e0\nplus de quinze lieues, mais qu'il n'avait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 en son pouvoir d'aller\nplus loin sans revenir pour me voir une fois encore, et une fois encore\nme dire adieu.\nJe lui dis comment j'avais pass\u00e9 mon temps et comment je lui avais cri\u00e9\n\u00e0 voix haute de revenir. Il me dit qu'il m'avait entendue fort nettement\ndans la for\u00eat de Delamere, \u00e0 un endroit \u00e9loign\u00e9 d'environ douze lieues.\nJe souris.\n--Non, dit-il, ne crois pas que je plaisante, car si jamais j'ai entendu\nta voix dans ma vie, je t'ai entendue m'appeler \u00e0 voix haute, et parfois\nje me figurais que je te voyais courir apr\u00e8s moi.\n--Mais, dis-je, que disais-je? Car je ne lui avais pas nomm\u00e9 les\nparoles.\n--Tu criais \u00e0 haute voix, et tu disais: \u00ab\u00d4 Jemmy! \u00f4 Jemmy! reviens,\nreviens.\u00bb\nJe me mis \u00e0 rire.\n--Mon coeur, dit-il, ne ris pas; car sois-en s\u00fbre, j'ai entendu ta voix\naussi clairement que tu entends la mienne dans ce moment; et, si tu le\nveux, j'irai devant un magistrat pr\u00eater serment l\u00e0-dessus.\nJe commen\u00e7ai alors d'\u00eatre surprise et \u00e9tonn\u00e9e; je fus effray\u00e9e m\u00eame et\nlui dis ce que j'avais vraiment fait et comment je l'avais appel\u00e9. Apr\u00e8s\nque nous nous f\u00fbmes amus\u00e9s un moment l\u00e0-dessus, je lui dis:\n--Eh bien, tu ne t'en iras plus loin de moi, maintenant; j'irais plut\u00f4t\navec toi au bout du monde.\nIl me dit que ce serait une chose bien difficile pour lui que de me\nquitter, mais que, puisqu'il le fallait, il avait l'espoir que je lui\nrendrais la t\u00e2che ais\u00e9e autant que possible; mais que pour lui, ce\nserait sa perte, et qu'il le pr\u00e9voyait assez.\nCependant, il me dit qu'il avait r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi, qu'il me laissait seule pour\naller jusqu'\u00e0 Londres, qui \u00e9tait un long voyage, et qu'il pouvait aussi\nbien prendre cette route-l\u00e0 qu'une autre; de sorte qu'il s'\u00e9tait r\u00e9solu\n\u00e0 m'y accompagner, et que s'il partait ensuite sans me dire adieu, je\nn'en devais point prendre d'irritation contre lui, et ceci il me le fit\npromettre.\nIl me dit comment il avait cong\u00e9di\u00e9 ses trois domestiques, vendu leurs\nchevaux, et envoy\u00e9 ces gar\u00e7ons chercher fortune, tout cela en fort peu\nde temps, dans une ville pr\u00e8s de la route, je ne sais o\u00f9, \u00abet, dit-il,\nil m'en a co\u00fbt\u00e9 des larmes, et j'ai pleur\u00e9 tout seul de penser combien\nils \u00e9taient plus heureux que leur ma\u00eetre, puisqu'ils n'avaient qu'\u00e0\naller frapper \u00e0 la porte du premier gentilhomme pour lui offrir leurs\nservices, tandis que moi, dit-il, je ne savais o\u00f9 aller ni que faire\u00bb.\nJe lui dis que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 si compl\u00e8tement malheureuse quand il m'avait\nquitt\u00e9e, que je ne saurais l'\u00eatre davantage, et que maintenant qu'il\n\u00e9tait revenu, je ne me s\u00e9parerais jamais de lui, s'il voulait bien\nm'emmener, en quelque lieu qu'il all\u00e2t. Et cependant, je convins que\nnous irions ensemble \u00e0 Londres; mais je ne pus arriver \u00e0 consentir qu'il\nme quitterait enfin, sans me dire adieu; mais je lui dis d'un ton\nplaisant que, s'il s'en allait, je lui crierais de revenir aussi haut\nque je l'avais fait. Puis je tirai sa montre, et la lui rendis, et ses\ndeux bagues, et ses dix guin\u00e9es; mais il ne voulut pas les reprendre;\nd'o\u00f9 je doutai fort qu'il avait r\u00e9solu de s'en aller sur la route et de\nm'abandonner.\nLa v\u00e9rit\u00e9 est que la condition o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait, les expressions passionn\u00e9es\nde sa lettre, sa conduite douce, tendre et m\u00e2le que j'avais \u00e9prouv\u00e9e sur\nsa part en toute cette affaire jointe au souci qu'il avait montr\u00e9 et \u00e0\nsa mani\u00e8re de me laisser une si grande part du peu qui lui restait, tout\ncela, dis-je, m'avait impressionn\u00e9e si vivement que je ne pouvais\nsupporter l'id\u00e9e de me s\u00e9parer de lui.\nDeux jours apr\u00e8s, nous quitt\u00e2mes Chester, moi dans le coche et lui \u00e0\ncheval; je cong\u00e9diai ma servante \u00e0 Chester; il s'opposa tr\u00e8s fort \u00e0 ce\nque je restasse sans servante; mais comme je l'avais engag\u00e9e dans la\ncampagne, puisque je n'avais point de domestique \u00e0 Londres, je lui dis\nque c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 barbare d'emmener la pauvre fille pour la mettre dehors\nsit\u00f4t que j'arriverais en ville, et que ce serait aussi une d\u00e9pense\ninutile en route; si bien qu'il s'y accorda, et demeura satisfait sur ce\nchapitre.\nIl vint avec moi jusque Dunstable, \u00e0 trente lieues de Londres, et puis\nil me dit que le sort et ses propres infortunes l'obligeaient \u00e0 me\nquitter, et qu'il ne lui \u00e9tait point possible d'entrer dans Londres pour\ndes raisons qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas utile de me donner: et je vis qu'il se\npr\u00e9parait \u00e0 partir. Le coche o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions ne s'arr\u00eatait pas\nd'ordinaire \u00e0 Dunstable; mais je le priai de s'y tenir un quart d'heure:\nil voulut bien rester un moment \u00e0 la porte d'une h\u00f4tellerie o\u00f9 nous\nentr\u00e2mes.\n\u00c9tant \u00e0 l'h\u00f4tellerie, je lui dis que je n'avais plus qu'une faveur \u00e0\nlui demander, qui \u00e9tait, puisqu'il ne pouvait pas aller plus loin, qu'il\nme permit de rester une semaine ou deux dans cette ville avec lui, afin\nde r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir pendant ce temps \u00e0 quelque moyen d'\u00e9viter une chose qui\nnous serait aussi ruineuse \u00e0 tous deux qu'une s\u00e9paration finale: et que\nj'avais \u00e0 lui proposer une chose d'importance que peut-\u00eatre il\ntrouverait \u00e0 notre avantage.\nC'\u00e9tait une proposition o\u00f9 il y avait trop de raison pour qu'il la\nrefus\u00e2t, de sorte qu'il appela l'h\u00f4tesse, et lui dit que sa femme se\ntrouvait indispos\u00e9e et tant qu'elle ne saurait penser \u00e0 continuer son\nvoyage en coche qui l'avait lass\u00e9e presque jusqu'\u00e0 la mort, et lui\ndemanda si elle ne pourrait nous procurer un logement pour deux ou trois\njours dans une maison priv\u00e9e o\u00f9 je pourrais me reposer un peu, puisque\nla route m'avait \u00e0 ce point exc\u00e9d\u00e9e. L'h\u00f4tesse, une brave femme de\nbonnes fa\u00e7ons et fort obligeante, vint aussit\u00f4t me voir; me dit qu'elle\navait deux ou trois chambres qui \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s bonnes et plac\u00e9es \u00e0\nl'\u00e9cart du bruit, et que, si je les voyais, elle n'avait point de doute\nqu'elles me plairaient, et que j'aurais une de ses servantes qui ne\nferait rien d'autre que d'\u00eatre attach\u00e9e \u00e0 ma personne; cette offre \u00e9tait\ntellement aimable que je ne pus que l'accepter; de sorte que j'allai\nvoir les chambres, dont je fus charm\u00e9e; et en effet elles \u00e9taient\nextraordinairement bien meubl\u00e9es, et d'un tr\u00e8s plaisant logement. Nous\npay\u00e2mes donc le coche, d'o\u00f9 nous f\u00eemes d\u00e9charger nos hardes, et nous\nr\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de s\u00e9journer l\u00e0 un peu de temps.\nIci je lui dis que je vivrais avec lui maintenant jusqu'\u00e0 ce que mon\nargent f\u00fbt \u00e0 bout; mais que je ne lui laisserais pas d\u00e9penser un\nshilling du sien; nous e\u00fbmes l\u00e0-dessus une tendre chicane; mais je lui\ndis que c'\u00e9tait sans doute la derni\u00e8re fois que je jouirais de sa\ncompagnie, et que je le priais de me laisser ma\u00eetresse sur ce point\nseulement et qu'il gouvernerait pour tout le reste; si bien qu'il\nconsentit.\nL\u00e0, un soir, nous promenant aux champs, je lui dis que j'allais\nmaintenant lui faire la proposition que je lui avais dite; et en effet\nje lui racontai comment j'avais v\u00e9cu en Virginie, et que j'y avais ma\nm\u00e8re, qui, croyais-je, \u00e9tait encore en vie, quoique mon mari d\u00fbt \u00eatre\nmort depuis plusieurs ann\u00e9es; je lui dis que si mes effets ne s'\u00e9taient\nperdus en mer, et d'ailleurs je les exag\u00e9rai assez, j'aurais eu assez de\nfortune pour nous \u00e9viter de nous s\u00e9parer en cette fa\u00e7on. Puis j'entrai\ndans des d\u00e9tails sur l'\u00e9tablissement des gens en ces contr\u00e9es, comment,\npar la constitution du pays, on leur allouait des lots de terres, et que\nd'ailleurs on pouvait en acheter \u00e0 un prix si bas qu'il ne valait m\u00eame\npas la peine d'\u00eatre mentionn\u00e9.\nPuis je lui expliquai amplement et avec clart\u00e9 la nature des\nplantations, et comment un homme qui s'appliquerait, n'ayant emport\u00e9 que\nla valeur de deux ou trois cents livres de marchandises anglaises, avec\nquelques domestiques et des outils, pourrait rapidement \u00e9tablir sa\nfamille et en peu d'ann\u00e9es amasser du bien.\nEnsuite je lui dis les mesures que je prendrais pour lever une somme de\n300\u00a3 ou environ; et je lui exposai que ce serait un admirable moyen de\nmettre fin \u00e0 notre infortune, et \u00e0 restaurer notre condition dans le\nmonde au point que nous avions esp\u00e9r\u00e9 tous deux; et j'ajoutai qu'au bout\nde sept ans nous pourrions \u00eatre en situation de laisser nos cultures en\nbonnes mains et de repasser l'eau pour en recevoir le revenu, et en\njouir tandis que nous vivrions en Angleterre; et je lui citai l'exemple\nde tels qui l'avaient fait et qui vivaient \u00e0 Londres maintenant sur un\nfort bon pied.\nEn somme, je le pressai tant qu'il finit presque par s'y accorder; mais\nnous f\u00fbmes arr\u00eat\u00e9s tant\u00f4t par un obstacle, tant\u00f4t par l'autre,\njusqu'enfin il changea les r\u00f4les, et se mit \u00e0 me parler presque dans les\nm\u00eames termes de l'Irlande.\nIl me dit qu'un homme qui se confinerait dans une vie campagnarde,\npourvu qu'il e\u00fbt pu trouver des fonds pour s'\u00e9tablir sur des terres,\npourrait s'y procurer des fermes \u00e0 50\u00a3 par an, qui \u00e9taient aussi bonnes\nque celles qu'on loue en Angleterre pour 200\u00a3; que le rendement \u00e9tait\nconsid\u00e9rable et le sol si riche, que, sans grande \u00e9conomie m\u00eame, nous\n\u00e9tions s\u00fbrs d'y vivre aussi bravement qu'un gentilhomme vit en\nAngleterre avec un revenu de 3 000\u00a3; et qu'il avait form\u00e9 le dessein de\nme laisser \u00e0 Londres et d'aller l\u00e0-bas pour tenter la fortune; et que\ns'il voyait qu'il pouvait disposer une mani\u00e8re de vivre ais\u00e9e et qui\ns'accord\u00e2t au respect qu'il entretenait pour moi, ainsi qu'il ne doutait\npoint de pouvoir le faire, il traverserait l'eau pour venir me chercher.\nJ'eus affreusement peur que sur une telle proposition il m'eut prise au\nmot, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'il me fall\u00fbt convertir mon petit revenu en argent\nliquide qu'il emporterait en Irlande pour tenter son exp\u00e9rience; mais il\navait trop de justice pour le d\u00e9sirer ou pour l'accepter, si je l'eusse\noffert: et il me devan\u00e7a l\u00e0-dessus; car il ajouta qu'il irait tenter la\nfortune en cette fa\u00e7on, et que s'il trouvait qu'il p\u00fbt faire quoi que ce\nsoit pour vivre, en y ajoutent ce que j'avais, nous pourrions bravement\nsubsister tous deux; mais qu'il ne voulait pas risquer un shilling de\nmon argent, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il e\u00fbt fait son exp\u00e9rience avec un peu du\nsien, et il m'assura que s'il ne r\u00e9ussissait pas en Irlande, il\nreviendrait me trouver et qu'il se joindrait \u00e0 moi pour mon dessein en\nVirginie.\nJe ne pus l'amener \u00e0 rien de plus, par quoi nous nous entret\u00eenmes pr\u00e8s\nd'un mois durant lequel je jouis de sa soci\u00e9t\u00e9 qui \u00e9tait la plus\ncharmante que j'eusse encore trouv\u00e9e dans toute ma vie. Pendant ce temps\nil m'apprit l'histoire de sa propre existence, qui \u00e9tait surprenante en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, et pleine d'une vari\u00e9t\u00e9 infinie, suffisante \u00e0 emplir un plus\nbeau roman d'aventures et d'incidents qu'aucun que j'aie vu d'imprim\u00e9;\nmais j'aurai l'occasion l\u00e0-dessus d'en dire plus long.\nNous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes enfin, quoique avec la plus extr\u00eame r\u00e9pugnance sur\nma part; et vraiment il prit cong\u00e9 de moi bien \u00e0 contre-coeur; mais la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 l'y contraignait; car les raisons qu'il avait de ne point\nvouloir venir \u00e0 Londres \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s bonnes, ainsi que je la compris\npleinement plus tard.\nJe lui donnai maintenant l'indication de l'adresse o\u00f9 il devait\nm'\u00e9crire, quoique r\u00e9servant encore le grand secret, qui \u00e9tait de ne\njamais lui faire savoir mon v\u00e9ritable nom, qui j'\u00e9tais, et o\u00f9 il\npourrait me trouver; lui de m\u00eame me fit savoir comment je devais m'y\nprendre pour lui faire parvenir une lettre, afin qu'il f\u00fbt assur\u00e9 de la\nrecevoir.\nJ'arrivai \u00e0 Londres le lendemain du jour o\u00f9 nous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes, mais je\nn'allai pas tout droit \u00e0 mon ancien logement; mais pour une autre raison\nque je ne veux pas dire je pris un logement priv\u00e9 dans Saint-Jones\nstreet, ou, comme on dit vulgairement, Saint-Jones en Clerkenwell: et\nl\u00e0, \u00e9tant parfaitement seule, j'eus assez loisir de rester assise pour\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur mes r\u00f4deries des sept derniers mois, car j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9\nabsente tout autant. Je me souvenais des heures charmantes pass\u00e9es en\ncompagnie de mon dernier mari avec infiniment de plaisir; mais ce\nplaisir fut extr\u00eamement amoindri quand je d\u00e9couvris peu de temps apr\u00e8s\nque j'\u00e9tais grosse.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une chose embarrassante, \u00e0 cause qu'il me serait bien\ndifficile de trouver un endroit o\u00f9 faire mes couches; \u00e9tant une des plus\nd\u00e9licates choses du monde en ce temps pour une femme \u00e9trang\u00e8re et qui\nn'avait point d'amis, d'\u00eatre entretenue en une telle condition sans\ndonner quelque r\u00e9pondant, que je n'avais point et que je ne pouvais me\nprocurer.\nJ'avais pris soin tout ce temps de maintenir une correspondance avec mon\nami de la Banque ou plut\u00f4t il prenait soin de correspondre avec moi, car\nil m'\u00e9crivait une fois la semaine; et quoique je n'eusse point d\u00e9pens\u00e9\nmon argent si vite que j'eusse besoin de lui en demander, toutefois je\nlui \u00e9crivais souvent aussi pour lui faire savoir que j'\u00e9tais en vie.\nJ'avais laiss\u00e9 des instructions dans le Lancashire, si bien que je me\nfaisais transmettre mes lettres; et durant ma retraite \u00e0 Saint-John je\nre\u00e7us de lui un billet fort obligeant, o\u00f9 il m'assurait que son proc\u00e8s\nde divorce \u00e9tait en bonne voie, bien qu'il y rencontr\u00e2t des difficult\u00e9s\nqu'il n'avait point attendues.\nJe ne fus pas f\u00e2ch\u00e9e d'apprendre que son proc\u00e8s \u00e9tait plus long qu'il\nn'avait pens\u00e9; car bien que je ne fusse nullement en condition de le\nprendre encore, n'ayant point la folie de vouloir l'\u00e9pouser, tandis que\nj'\u00e9tais grosse des oeuvres d'un autre homme (ce que certaines femmes que\nje connais ont os\u00e9), cependant je n'avais pas d'intention de le perdre,\net, en un mot, j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solue \u00e0 le prendre s'il continuait dans le m\u00eame\ndessein, sit\u00f4t mes relevailles; car je voyais apparemment que je\nn'entendrais plus parler de mon autre mari; et comme il n'avait cess\u00e9 de\nme presser de me remarier, m'ayant assur\u00e9 qu'il n'y aurait nulle\nr\u00e9pugnance et que jamais il ne tenterait de r\u00e9clamer ses droits, ainsi\nne me faisais-je point scrupule de me r\u00e9soudre, si je le pouvais, et mon\nautre ami restait fid\u00e8le \u00e0 l'accord; et j'avais infiniment de raisons\nd'en \u00eatre assur\u00e9e, par les lettres qu'il m'\u00e9crivait, qui \u00e9taient les\nplus tendres et les plus obligeantes du monde.\nJe commen\u00e7ais maintenant \u00e0 m'arrondir, et les personnes chez qui je\nlogeais m'en firent la remarque, et, autant que le permettait la\ncivilit\u00e9, me firent comprendre qu'il fallait songer \u00e0 partir. Ceci me\njeta dans une extr\u00eame perplexit\u00e9, et je devins tr\u00e8s m\u00e9lancolique; car en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 je ne savais quel parti prendre; j'avais de l'argent, mais point\nd'amis, et j'avais chances de me trouver sur les bras un enfant \u00e0\ngarder, difficult\u00e9 que je n'avais encore jamais rencontr\u00e9e, ainsi que\nmon histoire jusqu'ici le fait para\u00eetre.\nDans le cours de cette affaire, je tombai tr\u00e8s malade et ma m\u00e9lancolie\naccrut r\u00e9ellement mon malaise; mon indisposition se trouva en fin de\ncompte n'\u00eatre qu'une fi\u00e8vre, mais la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 est que j'avais les\nappr\u00e9hensions d'une fausse couche. Je ne devrais pas dire \u00ables\nappr\u00e9hensions\u00bb, car j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 trop heureuse d'accoucher avant terme,\nmais je n'aurais pu m\u00eame entretenir la pens\u00e9e de prendre quoi que ce f\u00fbt\npour y aider; j'abhorrais, dis-je, jusqu'\u00e0 l'imagination d'une telle\nchose.\nCependant, la dame qui tenait la maison m'en parla et m'offrit d'envoyer\nune sage-femme; j'\u00e9levai d'abord quelques scrupules, mais apr\u00e8s un peu\nde temps j'y consentis, mais lui dis que je ne connaissais point de\nsage-femme et que je lui abandonnais le soin de l'affaire.\nIl para\u00eet que la ma\u00eetresse de la maison n'\u00e9tait pas tant \u00e9trang\u00e8re \u00e0 des\ncas semblables au mien que je pensais d'abord qu'elle f\u00fbt, comme on\nverra tout \u00e0 l'heure; et elle fit venir une sage-femme de la bonne\nsorte, je veux dire de la bonne sorte pour moi.\nCette femme paraissait avoir quelque exp\u00e9rience dans son m\u00e9tier,\nj'entends de sage-femme, mais elle avait aussi une autre profession o\u00f9\nelle \u00e9tait experte autant que femme du monde, sinon davantage. Mon\nh\u00f4tesse lui avait dit que j'\u00e9tais fort m\u00e9lancolique, et qu'elle pensait\nque cela m'e\u00fbt fait du mal et une fois, devant moi, lui dit:\n--Madame B..., je crois que l'indisposition de cette dame est de celles\no\u00f9 vous vous entendez assez; je vous prie donc, si vous pouvez quelque\nchose pour elle, de n'y point manquer, car c'est une fort honn\u00eate\npersonne. Et ainsi elle sortit de la chambre.\nVraiment je ne la comprenais pas; mais la bonne vieille m\u00e8re se mit tr\u00e8s\ns\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 m'expliquer ce qu'elle entendait, sit\u00f4t qu'elle fut\npartie:\n--Madame, dit-elle, vous ne semblez pas comprendre ce qu'entend votre\nh\u00f4tesse, et quand vous serez au fait, vous n'aurez point besoin de le\nlui laisser voir. Elle entend que vous \u00eates en une condition qui peut\nvous rendre vos couches difficiles, et que vous ne d\u00e9sirez pas que cela\nsoit publiquement connu; point n'est besoin d'en dire davantage, mais\nsachez que si vous jugez bon de me communiquer autant de votre secret\nqu'il est n\u00e9cessaire (car je ne d\u00e9sire nullement me m\u00ealer dans ces\naffaires), je pourrais peut-\u00eatre trouver moyen de vous aider, de vous\ntirer de peine, et de vous \u00f4ter toutes vos tristes pens\u00e9es \u00e0 ce sujet.\nChaque parole que pronon\u00e7ait cette cr\u00e9ature m'\u00e9tait un cordial, et me\nsoufflait jusqu'au coeur une vie nouvelle et un courage nouveau; mon\nsang commen\u00e7a de circuler aussit\u00f4t, et tout mon corps fut transform\u00e9; je\nme remis \u00e0 manger, et bient\u00f4t j'allai mieux. Elle en dit encore bien\ndavantage sur le m\u00eame propos; et puis, m'ayant press\u00e9e de lui parler en\ntoute franchise, et m'ayant promis le secret de la fa\u00e7on la plus\nsolennelle, elle s'arr\u00eata un peu, comme pour voir l'impression que\nj'avais re\u00e7ue, et ce que j'allais dire.\nJe sentais trop vivement le besoin que j'avais d'une telle femme pour ne\npoint accepter son offre; je lui dis que ma position \u00e9tait en partie\ncomme elle avait devin\u00e9, en partie diff\u00e9rente, puisque j'\u00e9tais\nr\u00e9ellement mari\u00e9e et que j'avais un mari, quoiqu'il f\u00fbt si \u00e9loign\u00e9 dans\nce moment qu'il ne pouvait para\u00eetre publiquement.\nElle m'arr\u00eata tout court et me dit que ce n'\u00e9tait point son affaire.\nToutes les dames qui se fiaient \u00e0 ses soins \u00e9taient mari\u00e9es pour elle;\ntoute femme, dit-elle, qui se trouve grosse d'enfant, a un p\u00e8re pour\nl'enfant, et que ce p\u00e8re f\u00fbt mari ou non, voil\u00e0 qui n'\u00e9tait point du\ntout son affaire; son affaire \u00e9tait de me servir dans ma condition\npr\u00e9sente que j'eusse un mari ou non.\n--Car, madame, dit-elle, avoir un mari qui ne peut para\u00eetre, c'est\nn'avoir point de mari; et par ainsi que vous soyez femme mari\u00e9e ou\nma\u00eetresse, cela m'est tout un.\nJe vis bient\u00f4t que catin ou femme mari\u00e9e, il fallait passer pour catin\nici; de sorte que j'abandonnai ce point. Je lui dis qu'elle avait bien\nraison, mais que si je devais lui dire mon histoire, il fallait la lui\ndire telle qu'elle \u00e9tait. De sorte que je la racontais aussi bri\u00e8vement\nque je le pus, et voici quelle fut ma conclusion.\n--La raison, dis-je, pour laquelle, madame, je vous incommode de ces\nd\u00e9tails, n'est point tant, comme vous l'avez dit tout \u00e0 l'heure, qu'ils\ntouchent au propos de votre affaire; mais c'est \u00e0 ce propos, \u00e0 savoir\nque je ne me soucie point d'\u00eatre vue ni cach\u00e9e, mais la difficult\u00e9 o\u00f9 je\nsuis, c'est que je n'ai point de connaissances dans cette partie du\npays.\n--Je vous entends bien, madame, dit-elle, vous n'avez pas de r\u00e9pondant \u00e0\nnommer pour \u00e9viter les impertinences de la paroisse qui sont d'usage en\ntelles occasions; et peut-\u00eatre, dit-elle, que vous ne savez pas bien\ncomment disposer de l'enfant quand il viendra.\n--La fin, dis-je, ne m'inqui\u00e8te pas tant que le commencement.\n--Eh bien, madame, r\u00e9pond la sage-femme, oserez-vous vous confier \u00e0 mes\nmains? Je demeure en tel endroit; bien que je ne m'informe pas de vous,\nvous pouvez vous enqu\u00e9rir de moi; mon nom est B...; je demeure dans\ntelle rue (nommant la rue), \u00e0 l'enseigne du Berceau; ma profession est\ncelle de sage-femme et j'ai beaucoup de dames qui viennent faire leurs\ncouches chez moi; j'ai donn\u00e9 caution \u00e0 la paroisse en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral pour les\nassurer contre toute enqu\u00eate sur ce qui viendra au monde sous mon toit.\nJe n'ai qu'une question \u00e0 vous adresser, madame, dit-elle, en toute\ncette affaire; et si vous y r\u00e9pondez, vous pouvez \u00eatre enti\u00e8rement\ntranquille sur le reste.\nJe compris aussit\u00f4t o\u00f9 elle voulait en venir et lui dis:\n--Madame, je crois vous entendre; Dieu merci, bien que je manque d'amis\nen cette partie du monde, je ne manque pas d'argent, autant qu'il peut\n\u00eatre n\u00e9cessaire, car je n'en ai point non plus d'abondance.\nJ'ajoutai ces mots parce que je ne voulais pas la mettre dans l'attente\nde grandes choses.\n--Eh bien madame, dit-elle, c'est la chose en effet, sans quoi il n'est\npoint possible de rien faire en de tels cas; et pourtant, dit-elle, vous\nallez voir que je ne vais pas vous voler, ni vous mettre, dans\nl'embarras, et je veux que vous sachiez tout d'avance, afin que vous\nvous accommodiez \u00e0 l'occasion et que vous fassiez de la d\u00e9pense ou que\nvous alliez \u00e0 l'\u00e9conomie, suivant que vous jugerez.\nJe lui dis qu'elle semblait si parfaitement entendre ma condition, que\nje n'avais rien d'autre \u00e0 lui demander que ceci: puisque j'avais\nd'argent assez, mais point en grande quantit\u00e9, qu'elle voul\u00fbt bien tout\ndisposer pour que je fusse entretenue le moins copieusement qu'il se\npourrait.\nElle r\u00e9pondit qu'elle apporterait un compte des d\u00e9penses en deux ou\ntrois formes, et que je choisirais ainsi qu'il me plairait, et je la\npriai de faire ainsi.\nLe lendemain elle l'apporta, et la copie de ses trois billets \u00e9tait\ncomme suit:\n1. Pour trois mois de logement dans sa maison, nourriture comprise, \u00e0\ndix shillings par semaine: 6\u00a3 0 s.\n2. Pour une nourrice pendant un mois et linge de couches: 1\u00a3 10 s.\n3. Pour un ministre afin de baptiser l'enfant, deux personnes pour le\ntenir sur les fonts, et un clerc: 1\u00a3 10 s.\n4. Pour un souper de bapt\u00eame (en comptant cinq invit\u00e9s): 1\u00a3 0 s.\nPour ses honoraires de sage-femme et les arrangements avec la paroisse:\n\u00c0 la fille pour le service: 0\u00a3 10 s.\nCeci \u00e9tait le premier billet; le second \u00e9tait dans les m\u00eames termes.\n1. Pour trois mois de logement et nourriture, etc., \u00e0 vingt shillings\npar semaine: 12\u00a3 0 s.\n2. Pour une nourrice pendant un mois, linge et dentelles: 2\u00a3 10 s.\n3. Pour le ministre afin de baptiser l'enfant, etc., comme ci-dessus:\n4. Pour un souper, bonbons, sucreries, etc.: 3\u00a3 3 s.\n5. Pour ses honoraires, comme ci-dessus: 5\u00a3 5 s.\n6. Pour une fille de service: 1\u00a3 0 s.\nCeci \u00e9tait le billet de seconde classe; la troisi\u00e8me, dit-elle, \u00e9tait\nd'un degr\u00e9 au-dessus, pour le cas o\u00f9 le p\u00e8re ou les amis paraissaient.\n1. Pour trois mois de logement et nourriture avec un appartement de deux\npi\u00e8ces et un galetas pour une servante: 30\u00a3 0 s.\n2. Pour une nourrice pendant un mois et tr\u00e8s beau linge de couches: 4\u00a3 4\ns.\n3. Pour le ministre afin de baptiser l'enfant, etc.: 2\u00a3 10 s.\n4. Pour un souper, le sommelier pour servir le vin: 5\u00a3 0 s.\n5. Pour ses honoraires, etc.: 10\u00a3 10 s.\n6. La fille de service, outre la servante ordinaire, seulement: 0\u00a3 10 s.\nJe regardai les trois billets et souris et lui dis que je la trouvais\nfort raisonnable dans ses demandes, tout consid\u00e9r\u00e9, et que je ne doutais\npoint que ses commodit\u00e9s ne fussent excellentes.\nElle me dit que j'en serais juge quand je les verrais: je lui dis que\nj'\u00e9tais afflig\u00e9e de lui dire que je craignais d'\u00eatre oblig\u00e9e \u00e0 para\u00eetre\nsa cliente au plus bas compte.\n--Et peut-\u00eatre, madame, lui dis-je, m'en traiterez-vous moins bien?\n--Non, point du tout, dit-elle, car o\u00f9 j'en ai une de la troisi\u00e8me\nclasse, j'en ai deux de la seconde et quatre de la premi\u00e8re, et je gagne\nautant en proportion sur les unes que sur les autres; mais si vous\ndoutez de mes soins, j'autoriserai l'ami que vous voudrez \u00e0 examiner si\nvous \u00eates bien entretenue ou mal.\nPuis elle expliqua les d\u00e9tails de la note.\n--Et d'abord, madame, dit-elle, je voudrais vous faire observer que vous\navez l\u00e0 une pension de trois mois \u00e0 dix shillings seulement par semaine;\nje me fais forte de dire que vous ne vous plaindrez pas de ma table; je\nsuppose, dit-elle, que vous ne vivez pas \u00e0 meilleur march\u00e9 l\u00e0 ou vous\n\u00eates maintenant.\n--Non vraiment, dis-je, ni m\u00eame \u00e0 si bon compte, car je donne six\nshillings par semaine pour ma chambre et je me nourris moi-m\u00eame, ce qui\nme revient bien plus cher.\n--Et puis, madame, dit-elle, si l'enfant ne doit pas vivre, comme il\narrive parfois, voil\u00e0 le prix du ministre \u00e9conomis\u00e9; et si vous n'avez\npoint d'amis \u00e0 inviter, vous pouvez \u00e9viter la d\u00e9pense d'un souper; de\nsorte que si vous \u00f4tez ces articles, madame, dit-elle, vos couches ne\nvous reviendront pas \u00e0 plus de 5\u00a3 3 shillings de plus que ce que vous\nco\u00fbte votre train de vie ordinaire.\nC'\u00e9tait la chose la plus raisonnable que j'eusse entendue; si bien que\nje souris et lui dis que je viendrais et que je serais sa cliente; mais\nje lui dis aussi que, n'attendant rien avant deux mois et davantage, je\npourrais \u00eatre forc\u00e9e de rester avec elle plus de trois mois, et que je\nd\u00e9sirais savoir si elle ne serait pas oblig\u00e9e de me prier de m'en aller\navant que je fusse en condition de partir.--Non, dit-elle, sa maison\n\u00e9tait grande; et d'ailleurs elle ne mettait jamais en demeure de partir\nune dame qui venait de faire ses couches, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'elle s'en all\u00e2t\nde son plein gr\u00e9; et que si on lui amenait plus de dames qu'elle n'en\npouvait loger, elle n'\u00e9tait pas si mal vue parmi ses voisins qu'elle ne\np\u00fbt trouver dispositions pour vingt, s'il le fallait.\nJe trouvai que c'\u00e9tait une dame \u00e9minente \u00e0 sa fa\u00e7on, et en somme je\nm'accordai \u00e0 me remettre entre ses mains; elle parla alors d'autres\nchoses, examina l'installation o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, fit ses critiques sur le\nmauvais service et le manque de commodit\u00e9, et me promit que je ne serais\npoint ainsi trait\u00e9e dans sa maison. Je lui avouai que je n'osais rien\ndire, \u00e0 cause que la femme de la maison avait un air \u00e9trange, ou du\nmoins qu'elle me paraissait ainsi, depuis que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 malade, parce\nque j'\u00e9tais grosse; et que je craignais qu'elle me fit quelque affront\nou autre, supposant que je ne pourrais donner qu'un rapport m\u00e9diocre sur\nma personne.\n--Oh Dieu! dit-elle, cette grande dame n'est point \u00e9trang\u00e8re \u00e0 ces\nchoses; elle a essay\u00e9 d'entretenir des dames qui \u00e9taient en votre\ncondition, mais elle n'a pu s'assurer de la paroisse; et, d'ailleurs,\nune dame fort prude, ainsi que vous l'avez tr\u00e8s bien vu; toutefois,\npuisque vous partez, n'engagez point de discussion avec elle; mais je\nvais veiller \u00e0 ce que vous soyez un peu mieux soign\u00e9e pendant que vous\n\u00eates encore ici, et il ne vous en co\u00fbtera pas davantage.\nJe ne la compris pas; pourtant je la remerciai et nous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes.\nLe matin suivant, elle m'envoya un poulet r\u00f4ti et chaud et une bouteille\nde sherry, et ordonna \u00e0 la servante de me pr\u00e9venir qu'elle restait \u00e0 mon\nservice tous les jours tant que je resterais l\u00e0.\nVoil\u00e0 qui \u00e9tait aimable et pr\u00e9venant \u00e0 l'exc\u00e8s, et j'acceptai bien\nvolontiers: le soir, elle envoya de nouveau demander si j'avais besoin\nde rien et pour ordonner \u00e0 la fille de venir la trouver le matin pour le\nd\u00eener; la fille avait des ordres pour me faire du chocolat le matin,\navant de partir, et \u00e0 midi elle m'apporta un ris de veau tout entier, et\nun plat de potage pour mon d\u00eener; et de cette fa\u00e7on elle me soignait \u00e0\ndistance; si bien que je fus infiniment charm\u00e9e et que je gu\u00e9ris\nrapidement; car en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 c'\u00e9taient mes humeurs noires d'auparavant qui\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 la partie principale de ma maladie.\nJe m'attendais, comme est l'usage d'ordinaire parmi de telles gens, que\nla servante qu'elle m'envoya se trouverait \u00eatre quelque effront\u00e9e\ncr\u00e9ature sortie de Drury-Lane, et j'en \u00e9tais assez tourment\u00e9e; de sorte\nque je ne voulus pas la laisser coucher dans la maison la premi\u00e8re nuit,\nmais que je gardais les yeux attach\u00e9s sur elle aussi \u00e9troitement que si\nelle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 une voleuse publique.\nL'honn\u00eate dame devina bient\u00f4t ce qu'il en \u00e9tait, et la renvoya avec un\npetit billet o\u00f9 elle me disait que je pouvais me fier \u00e0 la probit\u00e9 de sa\nservante, qu'elle se tiendrait responsable de tout, et qu'elle ne\nprenait jamais de domestiques sans avoir d'excellentes cautions. Je fus\nalors parfaitement rassur\u00e9e et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, la conduite de cette servante\nparlait pour elle, car jamais fille plus retenue, sobre et tranquille\nn'entra dans la famille de quiconque, et ainsi je la trouverai plus\ntard.\nAussit\u00f4t que je fus assez bien portante pour sortir, j'allai avec la\nfille voir la maison et voir l'appartement qu'on devait me donner; et\ntout \u00e9tait si joli et si net qu'en somme je n'eus rien \u00e0 dire, mais fus\nmerveilleusement charm\u00e9e de ce que j'avais rencontr\u00e9, qui, consid\u00e9rant\nla m\u00e9lancolique condition o\u00f9 je me trouvais, \u00e9tait bien au del\u00e0 de ce\nque j'avais esp\u00e9r\u00e9.\nOn pourrait attendre que je donnasse quelque compte de la nature des\nm\u00e9chantes actions de cette femme, entre les mains de qui j'\u00e9tais\nmaintenant tomb\u00e9e; mais ce serait trop d'encouragement au vice que de\nfaire voir au monde, comme il \u00e9tait facile \u00e0 une femme de se d\u00e9barrasser\nl\u00e0 du faix d'un enfant clandestin. Cette grave matrone avait plusieurs\nsortes de proc\u00e9d\u00e9s; et l'un d'entre eux \u00e9tait que si un enfant naissait\nquoique non dans sa maison (car elle avait l'occasion d'\u00eatre appel\u00e9e \u00e0\nmaintes besognes priv\u00e9es), elle avait des gens toujours pr\u00eats, qui, pour\nune pi\u00e8ce d'argent, leur \u00f4taient l'enfant de dessus les bras, et de\ndessus les bras de la paroisse aussi; et ces enfants, comme elle disait,\n\u00e9taient fort honn\u00eatement pourvus; ce qu'ils devenaient tous, regardant\nqu'il y en avait tant, par le r\u00e9cit qu'elle en faisait, je ne puis le\nconcevoir.\nJe tins bien souvent avec elle des discours sur ce sujet; mais elle\n\u00e9tait pleine de cet argument qu'elle sauvait la vie de maint agneau\ninnocent, comme elle les appelait, qui aurait peut-\u00eatre \u00e9t\u00e9 assassin\u00e9,\net de mainte femme qui, rendue d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e par le malheur, aurait\nautrement \u00e9t\u00e9 tent\u00e9e de d\u00e9truire ses enfants. Je lui accordai que\nc'\u00e9tait la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, et une chose bien recommandable, pourvu que les\npauvres enfants tombassent ensuite dans de bonnes mains, et ne fussent\npas maltrait\u00e9s et abandonn\u00e9s par les nourrices. Elle me r\u00e9pondit qu'elle\navait toujours grand soin de cet article-l\u00e0, et qu'elle n'avait point de\nnourrices dans son affaire qui ne fussent tr\u00e8s bonnes personnes, et\ntelles qu'on pouvait y avoir confiance.\nJe ne pus rien dire sur le contraire, et fus donc oblig\u00e9e de dire:\n--Madame, je ne doute point que vous n'agissiez parfaitement sur votre\npart; mais la principale question est ce que font ces gens.\nEt de nouveau elle me ferma la bouche en r\u00e9pondant qu'elle en prenait le\nsoin le plus exact.\nLa seule chose que je trouvai dans toute sa conversation sur ces sujets\nqui me donn\u00e2t quelque d\u00e9plaisir fut qu'une fois o\u00f9 elle me parlait de\nmon \u00e9tat bien avanc\u00e9 de grossesse, elle dit quelques paroles qui\nsemblaient signifier qu'elle pourrait me d\u00e9barrasser plus t\u00f4t si j'en\navais envie, et me donner quelque chose pour cela, si j'avais le d\u00e9sir\nde mettre ainsi fin \u00e0 mes tourments; mais je lui fis voir bient\u00f4t que\nj'en abhorrais jusqu'\u00e0 l'id\u00e9e; et pour lui rendre justice elle s'y prit\nsi adroitement que je ne puis dire si elle l'entendait r\u00e9ellement ou si\nelle ne fit mention de cette pratique que comme une horrible chose; car\nelle glissa si bien ses paroles et comprit si vite ce que je voulais\ndire, qu'elle avait pris la n\u00e9gative avant que je pusse m'expliquer.\nPour abr\u00e9ger autant que possible cette partie, je quittai mon logement\nde Saint-Jones et j'allai chez ma nouvelle gouvernante (car c'est ainsi\nqu'on la nommait dans la maison), et l\u00e0, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je fus trait\u00e9e avec\ntant de courtoisie, soign\u00e9e avec tant d'attention, tout me parut si\nbien, que j'en fus surprise et ne pus voir d'abord quel avantage en\ntirait ma gouvernante: mais je d\u00e9couvris ensuite qu'elle faisait\nprofession de ne tirer aucun profit de la nourriture des pensionnaires,\net qu'en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 elle ne pouvait y gagner beaucoup, mais que son profit\n\u00e9tait dans les autres articles de son entretien; et elle gagnait assez\nen cette fa\u00e7on, je vous assure; car il est \u00e0 peine croyable quelle\nclient\u00e8le elle avait, autant en ville que chez elle, et toutefois le\ntout \u00e0 compte priv\u00e9, ou en bon fran\u00e7ais \u00e0 compte de d\u00e9bauche.\nPendant que j'\u00e9tais dans sa maison, qui fut pr\u00e8s de quatre mois, elle\nn'eut pas moins de douze dames galantes au lit chez elle, et je crois\nqu'elle en avait trente-deux ou environ sous son gouvernement en ville,\ndont l'une logeait chez mon ancienne h\u00f4tesse de Saint-Jones, malgr\u00e9\ntoute la pruderie que celle-ci avait affect\u00e9e avec moi.\nTandis que j'\u00e9tais l\u00e0, et avant de prendre le lit, je re\u00e7us de mon homme\nde confiance \u00e0 la Banque une lettre pleine de choses tendres et\nobligeantes, o\u00f9 il me pressait s\u00e9rieusement de retourner \u00e0 Londres. La\nlettre datait presque de quinze jours quand elle me parvint parce\nqu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d'abord envoy\u00e9e dans le Lancashire d'o\u00f9 elle m'avait\nsuivie; il terminait en me disant qu'il avait obtenu un arr\u00eat contre sa\nfemme et qu'il \u00e9tait pr\u00eat \u00e0 tenir son engagement avec moi, si je voulais\nl'accepter, ajoutant un grand nombre de protestations de tendresse et\nd'affection, telles qu'il aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 bien loin d'offrir s'il avait connu\nles circonstances o\u00f9 j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9, et que, tel qu'il en \u00e9tait, j'avais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 bien loin de m\u00e9riter.\nJ'envoyai une r\u00e9ponse \u00e0 cette lettre et la datai de Liverpool, mais\nl'envoyai par un courrier, sous couleur qu'elle \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9e dans un\npli adress\u00e9 \u00e0 un ami en ville. Je le f\u00e9licitai de sa d\u00e9livrance, mais\nj'\u00e9levai des scrupules sur la validit\u00e9 l\u00e9gale d'un second mariage, et\nlui dis que je supposais qu'il consid\u00e9rerait bien s\u00e9rieusement ce point\navant de s'y r\u00e9soudre, la cons\u00e9quence \u00e9tant trop grande \u00e0 un homme de\nson jugement pour qu'il s'y aventur\u00e2t imprudemment, et terminai en lui\nsouhaitant du bonheur quelle que f\u00fbt sa d\u00e9cision, sans rien lui laisser\nsavoir de mes propres intentions ou lui r\u00e9pondre sur sa proposition de\nmon retour \u00e0 Londres, mais je fis vaguement allusion \u00e0 l'id\u00e9e que\nj'avais de revenir vers la fin de l'ann\u00e9e, ceci \u00e9tant dat\u00e9 d'avril.\nJe pris le lit vers la mi-mai, et j'eus un autre beau gar\u00e7on, et\nmoi-m\u00eame en bonne condition comme d'ordinaire en telles occasions; ma\ngouvernante joua son r\u00f4le de sage-femme avec le plus grand art et toute\nl'adresse qu'on peut s'imaginer, et bien au del\u00e0 de tout ce que j'avais\njamais connu auparavant.\nLes soins qu'elle eut de moi pendant mon travail et apr\u00e8s mes couches\nfurent tels, que si elle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ma propre m\u00e8re, ils n'eussent pu \u00eatre\nmeilleurs. Que nulle ne se laisse encourager dans une vie d\u00e9r\u00e9gl\u00e9e par\nla conduite de cette adroite dame, car elle est maintenant en sa bonne\ndemeure et n'a rien laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re elle pour indiquer le chemin.\nJe crois que j'\u00e9tais au lit depuis vingt jours quand je re\u00e7us une autre\nlettre de mon ami de la Banque, avec la surprenante nouvelle qu'il avait\nobtenu une sentence finale de divorce contre sa femme, qu'il lui avait\nfait signifier tel jour, et qu'il avait \u00e0 me donner une r\u00e9ponse \u00e0 tous\nmes scrupules au sujet d'un second mariage, telle que je ne pouvais\nl'attendre et qu'il n'en avait aucun d\u00e9sir; car sa femme, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nprise auparavant de quelques remords pour le traitement qu'elle lui\navait fait subir, sit\u00f4t qu'elle avait appris qu'il avait gagn\u00e9 son\npoint, s'\u00e9tait bien mis\u00e9rablement \u00f4t\u00e9 la vie le soir m\u00eame.\nIl s'exprimait fort honn\u00eatement sur la part qu'il pouvait avoir dans son\nd\u00e9sastre, mais s'\u00e9claircissait d'y avoir pr\u00eat\u00e9 la main, affirmant qu'il\nn'avait fait que se rendre justice en un cas o\u00f9 il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 notoirement\ninsult\u00e9 et bafou\u00e9; toutefois il disait en \u00eatre fort afflig\u00e9, et qu'il ne\nlui restait de vue de satisfaction au monde que dans l'espoir o\u00f9 il\n\u00e9tait que je voudrais bien venir le r\u00e9conforter par ma compagnie; et\npuis il me pressait tr\u00e8s violemment en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, de lui donner quelques\nesp\u00e9rances, et me suppliait de venir au moins en ville, et de souffrir\nqu'il me v\u00eet, \u00e0 quelle occasion il me parlerait plus longuement sur ce\nsujet.\nJe fus extr\u00eamement surprise par cette nouvelle, et commen\u00e7ai maintenant\ns\u00e9rieusement de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur ma condition et sur l'inexprimable malheur\nqui m'arrivait d'avoir un enfant sur les bras, et je ne savais qu'en\nfaire. Enfin, je fis une allusion lointaine \u00e0 mon cas devant ma\ngouvernante. Je parus m\u00e9lancolique pendant plusieurs jours, et elle\nm'attaquait sans cesse pour apprendre ce qui m'attristait; je ne pouvais\npour ma vie lui dire que j'avais une proposition de mariage apr\u00e8s lui\navoir si souvent r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e9 que j'avais un mari, de sorte que vraiment je ne\nsavais quoi lui dire; j'avouai qu'il y avait une chose qui me\ntourmentait beaucoup, mais en m\u00eame temps je lui dis que je ne pouvais en\nparler \u00e0 personne au monde.\nElle continua de m'importuner pendant plusieurs jours, mais il m'\u00e9tait\nimpossible, lui dis-je, de confier mon secret \u00e0 quiconque. Ceci, au lieu\nde lui servir de r\u00e9ponse, accrut ses importunit\u00e9s; elle all\u00e9gua qu'on\nlui avait confi\u00e9 les plus grands secrets de cette nature, qu'il \u00e9tait de\nson int\u00e9r\u00eat de tout dissimuler, et que de d\u00e9couvrir des choses de cette\nnature serait sa ruine; elle me demanda si jamais je l'avais surprise \u00e0\nbabiller sur les affaires d'autrui, et comment il se faisait que j'eusse\ndu soup\u00e7on \u00e0 son \u00e9gard. Elle me dit que s'ouvrir \u00e0 elle, c'\u00e9tait ne dire\nmon secret \u00e0 personne; qu'elle \u00e9tait muette comme la mort, et qu'il\nfaudrait sans doute que ce fut un cas bien \u00e9trange, pour qu'elle ne put\nm'y porter secours; mais que de le dissimuler \u00e9tait me priver de toute\naide possible ou moyen d'aide, et tout ensemble la priver de\nl'opportunit\u00e9 de me servir. Bref, son \u00e9loquence fut si ensorcelante et\nson pouvoir de persuasion si grand qu'il n'y eut moyen de rien lui\ncacher.\nSi bien que je r\u00e9solus de lui ouvrir mon coeur; je lui dis l'histoire de\nmon mariage du Lancashire, et comment nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9\u00e7us tous deux;\ncomment nous nous \u00e9tions rencontr\u00e9s et comment nous nous \u00e9tions s\u00e9par\u00e9s;\ncomment il m'avait affranchie, autant qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 en son pouvoir, et\nm'avait donn\u00e9 pleine libert\u00e9 de me remarier, jurant que s'il\nl'apprenait, jamais il ne me r\u00e9clamerait, ne me troublerait ou me ferait\nreconna\u00eetre; que je croyais bien \u00eatre libre, mais que j'avais\naffreusement peur de m'aventurer, de crainte des cons\u00e9quences qui\npourraient suivre en cas de d\u00e9couverte.\nPuis je lui dis la bonne offre qu'on me faisait, lui montrai les lettres\nde mon ami o\u00f9 il m'invitait \u00e0 Londres et avec quelle affection elles\n\u00e9taient \u00e9crites; mais j'effa\u00e7ai son nom, et aussi l'histoire du d\u00e9sastre\nde sa femme, sauf la ligne o\u00f9 il disait qu'elle \u00e9tait morte.\nElle se mit \u00e0 rire de mes scrupules pour me marier, et me dit que\nl'autre n'\u00e9tait point un mariage, mais une duperie sur les deux parts;\net qu'ainsi que nous nous \u00e9tions s\u00e9par\u00e9s de consentement mutuel, la\nnature du contrat \u00e9tait d\u00e9truite, et que nous \u00e9tions d\u00e9gag\u00e9s de toute\nobligation r\u00e9ciproque; elle tenait tous ces arguments au bout de sa\nlangue, et, en somme, elle me raisonna hors de ma raison; non que ce ne\nf\u00fbt aussi par l'aide de ma propre inclination.\nMais alors vint la grande et principale difficult\u00e9, qui \u00e9tait l'enfant.\nIl fallait, me dit-elle, s'en d\u00e9barrasser, et de fa\u00e7on telle qu'il ne\nf\u00fbt jamais possible \u00e0 quiconque de le d\u00e9couvrir. Je savais bien qu'il\nn'y avait point de mariage pour moi si je ne dissimulais pas que j'avais\neu un enfant, car il aurait bient\u00f4t d\u00e9couvert par l'\u00e2ge du petit qu'il\n\u00e9tait n\u00e9, bien plus, qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 fait depuis mes relations avec lui,\net toute l'affaire e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9truite.\nMais j'avais le coeur serr\u00e9 avec tant de force \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e de me s\u00e9parer\nenti\u00e8rement de l'enfant, et, autant que je pouvais le savoir, de le\nlaisser assassiner ou de l'abandonner \u00e0 la faim et aux mauvais\ntraitements, ce qui \u00e9tait presque la m\u00eame chose, que je n'y pouvais\nsonger sans horreur.\nToutes ces choses se repr\u00e9sentaient \u00e0 ma vue sous la forme la plus noire\net la plus terrible; et comme j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s libre avec ma gouvernante que\nj'avais maintenant appris \u00e0 appeler m\u00e8re, je lui repr\u00e9sentai toutes les\nsombres pens\u00e9es qui me venaient l\u00e0-dessus, et lui dis dans quelle\nd\u00e9tresse j'\u00e9tais. Elle parut prendre un air beaucoup plus grave \u00e0 ces\nparoles qu'aux autres; mais ainsi qu'elle \u00e9tait endurcie \u00e0 ces choses au\ndel\u00e0 de toute possibilit\u00e9 d'\u00eatre touch\u00e9e par le sentiment religieux et\nles scrupules du meurtre, ainsi \u00e9tait-elle \u00e9galement imp\u00e9n\u00e9trable \u00e0 tout\nce qui se rapportait \u00e0 l'affection. Elle me demanda si elle ne m'avait\npas soign\u00e9e et caress\u00e9e pendant mes couches comme si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 son\npropre enfant. Je lui dis que je devais avouer que oui.\n--Eh bien, ma ch\u00e8re, dit-elle, et quand vous serez partie, que\nserez-vous pour moi? Et que pourrait-il me faire d'apprendre que vous\nallez \u00eatre pendue? Pensez-vous qu'il n'y a pas des femmes qui parce que\nc'est leur m\u00e9tier et leur gagne-pain, mettent leur point d'honneur \u00e0\navoir soin des enfants autant que si elles \u00e9taient leurs propres m\u00e8res?\nAllez, allez, mon enfant, dit-elle, ne craignez rien. Comment avons-nous\n\u00e9t\u00e9 nourries nous-m\u00eames? \u00cates-vous bien s\u00fbre d'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 nourrie par\nvotre propre m\u00e8re? et pourtant voil\u00e0 de la chair potel\u00e9e et blonde, mon\nenfant, dit la vieille m\u00e9g\u00e8re, en me passant la main sur les joues.\nN'ayez pas peur, mon enfant, dit-elle, en continuant sur son ton enjou\u00e9;\nje n'ai point d'assassins \u00e0 mes ordres; j'emploie les meilleures\nnourrices qui se puissent trouver et j'ai aussi peu d'enfants qui\np\u00e9rissent en leurs mains, que s'ils \u00e9taient nourris par leurs m\u00e8res;\nnous ne manquons ni de soin ni d'adresse.\nElle me toucha au vif quand elle me demanda si j'\u00e9tais s\u00fbre d'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9\nnourrie par ma propre m\u00e8re; au contraire, j'\u00e9tais s\u00fbre qu'il n'en avait\npas \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi; et je tremblai et je devins p\u00e2le sur le mot m\u00eame.\n\u00abS\u00fbrement, me dis-je, cette cr\u00e9ature ne peut \u00eatre sorci\u00e8re, et avoir\ntenu conversation avec un esprit qui p\u00fbt l'informer de ce que j'\u00e9tais\navant que je fusse capable de le savoir moi-m\u00eame.\u00bb Et je la regardai\npleine d'effroi. Mais r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissant qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas possible qu'elle\ns\u00fbt rien sur moi, mon impression passa, et je commen\u00e7ai de me rassurer\nmais ce ne fut pas sur-le-champ.\nElle s'aper\u00e7ut du d\u00e9sordre o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, mais n'en comprit pas la\nsignification; de sorte qu'elle se lan\u00e7a dans d'extravagants discours\nsur la faiblesse que je montrais en supposant qu'on assassinait tous les\nenfants qui n'\u00e9taient pas nourris par leur m\u00e8re, et pour me persuader\nque les enfants qu'elle mettait \u00e0 l'\u00e9cart \u00e9taient aussi bien trait\u00e9s que\nsi leur m\u00e8re elle-m\u00eame leur e\u00fbt servi de nourrice.\n--Il se peut, ma m\u00e8re, lui dis-je, pour autant que je sache, mais mes\ndoutes sont bien fortement enracin\u00e9s.\n--Eh bien donc, dit-elle, je voudrais en entendre quelques-uns.\n--Alors, dis-je, d'abord: vous donnez \u00e0 ces gens une pi\u00e8ce d'argent pour\n\u00f4ter l'enfant de dessus les bras des parents et pour en prendre soin\ntant qu'il vivra. Or, nous savons, ma m\u00e8re, dis-je, que ce sont de\npauvres gens et que leur gain consiste \u00e0 \u00eatre quittes de leur charge le\nplus t\u00f4t qu'ils peuvent. Comment pourrais-je douter que, puisqu'il vaut\nmieux pour eux que l'enfant meure, ils n'ont pas un soin par trop\nminutieux de son existence?\n--Tout cela n'est que vapeurs et fantaisie, dit-elle. Je vous dis que\nleur cr\u00e9dit est fond\u00e9 sur la vie de l'enfant, et qu'ils en ont aussi\ngrand soin qu'aucune m\u00e8re parmi vous toutes.\n--Oh! ma m\u00e8re, dis-je, si j'\u00e9tais seulement s\u00fbre que mon petit b\u00e9b\u00e9 sera\nbien soign\u00e9, et qu'on ne le maltraitera pas, je serais heureuse! Mais il\nest impossible que je sois satisfaite sur ce point \u00e0 moins de le voir de\nmes yeux; et le voir serait en ma condition ma perte et ma ruine; si\nbien que je ne sais comment faire.\n--Belle histoire que voil\u00e0! dit la gouvernante. Vous voudriez voir\nl'enfant et ne pas le voir; vous voudriez vous cacher et vous d\u00e9couvrir\ntout ensemble; ce sont l\u00e0 des choses impossibles, ma ch\u00e8re, et il faut\nvous d\u00e9cider \u00e0 faire tout justement comme d'autres m\u00e8res consciencieuses\nl'ont fait avant vous et vous contenter des choses telles qu'elles\ndoivent \u00eatre, quand bien m\u00eame vous les souhaiteriez diff\u00e9rentes.\nJe compris ce qu'elle voulait dire par \u00abm\u00e8res consciencieuses\u00bb; elle\naurait voulu dire \u00abconsciencieuses catins\u00bb, mais elle ne d\u00e9sirait pas me\nd\u00e9sobliger, car en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, dans ce cas, je n'\u00e9tais point une catin,\n\u00e9tant l\u00e9galement mari\u00e9e, sauf toutefois la force de mon mariage\nant\u00e9rieur. Cependant, que je fusse ce qu'on voudra, je n'en \u00e9tais pas\nvenue \u00e0 cette extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 d'endurcissement commune \u00e0 la profession: je\nveux dire \u00e0 \u00eatre d\u00e9natur\u00e9e et n'avoir aucun souci du salut de mon\nenfant, et je pr\u00e9servai si longtemps cette honn\u00eate affection que je fus\nsur le point de renoncer \u00e0 mon ami de la Banque, qui m'avait si\nfortement press\u00e9e de revenir et de l'\u00e9pouser qu'il y avait \u00e0 peine\npossibilit\u00e9 de le refuser.\nEnfin ma vieille gouvernante vint \u00e0 moi, avec son assurance usuelle.\n--Allons, ma ch\u00e8re, dit-elle, j'ai trouv\u00e9 un moyen pour que vous soyez\nassur\u00e9e que votre enfant sera bien trait\u00e9, et pourtant les gens qui en\nauront charge ne vous conna\u00eetront jamais.\n--Oh! ma m\u00e8re, dis-je, si vous pouvez y parvenir, je serai li\u00e9e \u00e0 vous\npour toujours.\n--Eh bien, dit-elle, vous accorderez-vous \u00e0 faire quelque petite\nd\u00e9pense annuelle plus forte que la somme que nous donnons d'ordinaire\naux personnes avec qui nous nous entendons?\n--Oui, oui, dis-je, de tout mon coeur, pourvu que je puisse rester\ninconnue.\n--Pour cela, dit-elle, vous pouvez \u00eatre tranquille; car jamais la\nnourrice n'osera s'enqu\u00e9rir de vous et une ou deux fois par an vous\nviendrez avec moi voir votre enfant et la fa\u00e7on dont il est trait\u00e9, et\nvous vous satisferez sur ce qu'il est en bonnes mains, personne ne\nsachant qui vous \u00eates.\n--Mais, lui dis-je, croyez-vous que lorsque je viendrai voir mon enfant\nil me sera possible de cacher que je sois sa m\u00e8re? Croyez-vous que c'est\nune chose possible?\n--Eh bien, dit-elle, m\u00eame si vous le d\u00e9couvrez, la nourrice n'en saura\npas plus long; on lui d\u00e9fendra de rien remarquer; et si elle s'y hasarde\nelle perdra l'argent que vous \u00eates suppos\u00e9e devoir lui donner et on lui\n\u00f4tera l'enfant.\nJe fus charm\u00e9e de tout ceci: de sorte que la semaine suivante on amena\nune femme de la campagne, de Hertford ou des environs, qui s'accordait \u00e0\n\u00f4ter l'enfant enti\u00e8rement de dessus nos bras pour 10\u00a3 d'argent; mais si\nje lui donnais de plus 5\u00a3 par an, elle s'engageait \u00e0 amener l'enfant \u00e0\nla maison de ma gouvernante aussi souvent que nous d\u00e9sirions, ou bien\nnous irions nous-m\u00eames le voir et nous assurer de la bonne mani\u00e8re dont\nelle le traiterait.\nLa femme \u00e9tait d'apparence saine et engageante; elle \u00e9tait mari\u00e9e \u00e0 un\nmanant, mais elle avait de tr\u00e8s bons v\u00eatements, portait du linge, et\ntout sur elle \u00e9tait fort propre; et, le coeur lourd, apr\u00e8s beaucoup de\nlarmes, je lui laissai prendre mon enfant. Je m'\u00e9tais rendue \u00e0 Hertford\npour la voir, et son logement, qui me plut assez; et je lui promis des\nmerveilles si elle voulait \u00eatre bonne pour l'enfant; de sorte que d\u00e8s\nles premiers mots elle sut que j'\u00e9tais la m\u00e8re de l'enfant: mais elle\nsemblait \u00eatre si fort \u00e0 l'\u00e9cart, et hors d'\u00e9tat de s'enqu\u00e9rir de moi,\nque je crus \u00eatre assez en s\u00fbret\u00e9, de sorte qu'en somme, je consentis \u00e0\nlui laisser l'enfant, et je lui donnai 10\u00a3, c'est-\u00e0-dire que je les\ndonnai \u00e0 ma gouvernante qui les donna \u00e0 la pauvre femme en ma pr\u00e9sence,\nelle s'engageant \u00e0 ne jamais me rendre l'enfant ou r\u00e9clamer rien de plus\npour l'avoir nourri et \u00e9lev\u00e9; sinon que je lui promettais, si elle en\nprenait grand soin, de lui donner quelque chose de plus aussi souvent\nque je viendrais la voir. De sorte que je ne fus pas contrainte de payer\nles 5\u00a3, sauf que j'avais promis \u00e0 ma gouvernante de le faire. Et ainsi\nje fus d\u00e9livr\u00e9e de mon grand tourment en une mani\u00e8re qui, bien qu'elle\nne me satisf\u00eet point du tout l'esprit, pourtant m'\u00e9tait la plus commode,\ndans l'\u00e9tat o\u00f9 mes affaires \u00e9taient alors, entre toutes celles o\u00f9\nj'eusse pu songer.\nJe commen\u00e7ai alors d'\u00e9crire \u00e0 mon ami de la Banque dans un style plus\ntendre: et, en particulier, vers le commencement du mois de juillet. Je\nlui envoyai une lettre que j'esp\u00e9rais qu'il serait en ville \u00e0 quelque\nmoment du mois d'ao\u00fbt; il me retourna une r\u00e9ponse con\u00e7ue dans les termes\nles plus passionn\u00e9s qui se puissent imaginer, et me supplia de lui faire\nsavoir mon arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 temps pour qu'il p\u00fbt venir \u00e0 ma rencontre \u00e0 deux\njourn\u00e9es de distance. Ceci me jeta dans un cruel embarras, et je ne\nsavais comment y r\u00e9pondre. \u00c0 un moment, j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solue \u00e0 prendre le\ncoche pour West-Chester, \u00e0 seule fin d'avoir la satisfaction de revenir,\npour qu'il put me voir vraiment arriver dans le m\u00eame coche; car\nj'entretenais le soup\u00e7on jaloux, quoique je n'y eusse aucun fondement,\nqu'il pens\u00e2t que je n'\u00e9tais pas vraiment \u00e0 la campagne.\nJ'essayai de chasser cette id\u00e9e de ma raison, mais ce fut en vain:\nl'impression \u00e9tait si forte dans mon esprit, qu'il m'\u00e9tait impossible\nd'y r\u00e9sister. Enfin, il me vint \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e, comme addition \u00e0 mon\nnouveau dessein, de partir pour la campagne, que ce serait un excellent\nmasque pour ma vieille gouvernante, et qui couvrirait enti\u00e8rement toutes\nmes autres affaires, car elle ne savait pas le moins du monde si mon\nnouvel amant vivait \u00e0 Londres ou dans le Lancashire: et quand je lui dis\nma r\u00e9solution, elle fut pleinement persuad\u00e9e que c'\u00e9tait dans le\nLancashire.\nAyant pris mes mesures pour ce voyage, je le lui fis savoir, et\nj'envoyai la servante qui m'avait soign\u00e9e depuis les premiers jours pour\nretenir une place pour moi dans le coche: elle aurait voulu que je me\nfisse accompagner par cette jeune fille jusqu'au dernier relais en la\nrenvoyant dans la voiture, mais je lui en montrai l'incommodit\u00e9. Quand\nje la quittai, elle me dit qu'elle ne ferait aucune convention pour\nnotre correspondance, persuad\u00e9e qu'elle \u00e9tait que mon affection pour mon\nenfant m'obligerait \u00e0 lui \u00e9crire et m\u00eame \u00e0 venir la voir quand je\nrentrerais en ville. Je lui assurai qu'elle ne se trompait pas, et ainsi\nje pris cong\u00e9, ravie d'\u00eatre lib\u00e9r\u00e9e et de sortir d'une telle maison,\nquelque plaisantes qu'y eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 mes commodit\u00e9s.\nJe pris ma place dans le coche, mais ne la gardai pas jusqu'\u00e0\ndestination; mais je descendis en un endroit du nom de Stone, dans le\nCheshire, o\u00f9 non seulement je n'avais aucune mani\u00e8re d'affaire, mais pas\nla moindre connaissance avec qui que ce f\u00fbt en ville; mais je savais\nqu'avec de l'argent dans sa poche on est chez soi partout; de sorte que\nje logeai l\u00e0 deux ou trois jours; jusqu'\u00e0 ce que, guettant une occasion,\nje trouvai place dans un autre coche, et pris un retour pour Londres,\nenvoyant une lettre \u00e0 mon monsieur, o\u00f9 je lui fixais que je serais tel\net tel jour \u00e0 Stony Stratford, o\u00f9 le cocher me dit qu'il devait loger.\nIl se trouva que j'avais pris un carrosse irr\u00e9gulier, qui, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9\nlou\u00e9 pour transporter \u00e0 West-Chester certains messieurs en partance pour\nl'Irlande, \u00e9tait maintenant sur sa route de retour, et ne s'attachait\npoint strictement \u00e0 l'heure et aux lieux, ainsi que le faisait le coche\nordinaire; de sorte qu'ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 forc\u00e9 de s'arr\u00eater le dimanche, il y\navait eu le temps de se pr\u00e9parer \u00e0 venir, et qu'autrement il n'e\u00fbt pu\nfaire.\nIl fut pris de si court qu'il ne put atteindre Stony Stratford assez \u00e0\ntemps pour \u00eatre avec moi la nuit, mais il me joignit \u00e0 un endroit nomm\u00e9\nBrickhill le matin suivant, juste comme nous entrions en ville.\nJe confesse que je fus bien joyeuse de le voir, car je m'\u00e9tais trouv\u00e9e\nun peu d\u00e9sappoint\u00e9e \u00e0 la nuit pass\u00e9e. Il me charma doublement aussi par\nla figure avec laquelle il parut, car il arrivait dans un splendide\ncarrosse (de gentilhomme) \u00e0 quatre chevaux, avec un laquais.\nIl me fit sortir tout aussit\u00f4t du coche qui s'arr\u00eata \u00e0 une h\u00f4tellerie de\nBrickhill et, descendant \u00e0 la m\u00eame h\u00f4tellerie, il fit d\u00e9teler son\ncarrosse et commanda le d\u00eener. Je lui demandai dans quelle intention il\n\u00e9tait, car je voulais pousser plus avant le voyage; il dit que non, que\nj'avais besoin d'un peu de repos en route, et que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une maison\nde fort bonne esp\u00e8ce, quoique la ville f\u00fbt bien petite; de sorte que\nnous n'irions pas plus loin cette nuit, quoi qu'il en adv\u00eent.\nJe n'insistai pas beaucoup, car puisqu'il \u00e9tait venu si loin pour me\nrencontrer et s'\u00e9tait mis en si grands frais, il n'\u00e9tait que raisonnable\nde l'obliger un peu, moi aussi; de sorte que je c\u00e9dai facilement sur ce\npoint.\nApr\u00e8s d\u00eener, nous all\u00e2mes visiter la ville, l'\u00e9glise et voir les champs\net la campagne, ainsi que les \u00e9trangers ont coutume de faire; et notre\nh\u00f4te nous servit de guide pour nous conduire \u00e0 l'\u00e9glise. J'observai que\nmon monsieur s'informait assez du ministre, et j'eus vent aussit\u00f4t qu'il\nallait proposer de nous marier; et il s'ensuivit bient\u00f4t qu'en somme je\nne le refuserais pas; car, pour parler net, en mon \u00e9tat, je n'\u00e9tais\npoint en condition maintenant de dire \u00abnon\u00bb; je n'avais plus de raison\nmaintenant d'aller courir de tels risques.\nMais tandis que ces pens\u00e9es me tournaient dans la t\u00eate, ce qui ne fut\nque l'affaire de peu d'instants, j'observai que mon h\u00f4te le prenait \u00e0\npart et lui parlait \u00e0 voix basse, quoique non si basse que je ne pusse\nentendre ces mots: \u00abMonsieur, si vous devez avoir occasion...\u00bbLe reste,\nje ne pus l'entendre, mais il semble que ce f\u00fbt \u00e0 ce propos: Monsieur,\nsi vous devez avoir occasion d'employer un ministre, j'ai un ami tout\npr\u00e8s qui vous servira et qui sera aussi secret qu'il pourra vous\nplaire.\u00bb\nMon monsieur r\u00e9pondit assez haut pour que je l'entendisse:\n--Fort bien, je crois que je l'emploierai.\n\u00c0 peine fus-je revenue \u00e0 l'h\u00f4tellerie qu'il m'assaillit de paroles\nirr\u00e9sistibles, m'assurant que puisqu'il avait eu la bonne fortune de me\nrencontrer et que tout s'accordait, ce serait h\u00e2ter sa f\u00e9licit\u00e9 que de\nmettre fin \u00e0 la chose sur-le-champ.\n--Quoi, que voulez-vous dire? m'\u00e9criai-je en rougissant un peu. Quoi,\ndans une auberge, et sur la grand'route? Dieu nous b\u00e9nisse, dis-je,\ncomment pouvez-vous parler ainsi?\n--Oh! dit-il, je puis fort bien parler ainsi; je suis venu \u00e0 seule fin\nde parler ainsi et je vais vous faire voir que c'est vrai.\nEt l\u00e0-dessus il tire un gros paquet de paperasses.\n--Vous m'effrayez, dis-je; qu'est-ce que tout ceci?\n--Ne vous effrayez pas, mon coeur, dit-il, et me baisa. C'\u00e9tait la\npremi\u00e8re fois qu'il prenait la libert\u00e9 de m'appeler \u00abson coeur\u00bb. Puis il\nle r\u00e9p\u00e9ta: \u00abNe vous effrayez pas, vous allez voir ce que c'est.\u00bb Puis il\n\u00e9tala tous ces papiers.\nIl y avait d'abord l'acte ou arr\u00eat de divorce d'avec sa femme et les\npleins t\u00e9moignages sur son inconduite; puis il y avait les certificats\ndu ministre et des marguilliers de la paroisse o\u00f9 elle vivait, prouvant\nqu'elle \u00e9tait enterr\u00e9e, et attestant la mani\u00e8re de sa mort; la copie de\nl'ordonnance de l'officier de la Couronne par laquelle il assemblait des\njur\u00e9s afin d'examiner son cas, et le verdict du jury qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 rendu\nen ces termes: _Non compos mentis_. Tout cela \u00e9tait pour me donner\nsatisfaction, quoique, soit dit en passant je ne fusse point si\nscrupuleuse, s'il avait tout su, que de refuser de le prendre \u00e0 d\u00e9faut\nde ces preuves. Cependant je regardai tout du mieux que je pus, et lui\ndis que tout cela \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s clair vraiment, mais qu'il n'e\u00fbt point eu\nbesoin de l'apporter avec lui, car il y avait assez le temps. Oui, sans\ndoute, dit-il, peut-\u00eatre qu'il y avait assez longtemps pour moi; mais\nqu'aucun temps que le temps pr\u00e9sent n'\u00e9tait assez le temps pour lui.\nIl y avait d'autres papiers roul\u00e9s, et je lui demandai ce que c'\u00e9tait.\n--Et voil\u00e0 justement, dit-il, la question que je voulais que vous me\nfissiez.\nEt il tire un petit \u00e9crin de chagrin et en sort une tr\u00e8s belle bague de\ndiamant qu'il me donne. Je n'aurais pu la refuser, si j'avais eu envie\nde le faire, car il la passa \u00e0 mon doigt; de sorte que je ne fis que lui\ntirer une r\u00e9v\u00e9rence. Puis il sort une autre bague:\n--Et celle-ci, dit-il, est pour une autre occasion, et la met dans sa\npoche.\n--Mais laissez-la-moi voir tout de m\u00eame, dis-je, et je souris; je\ndevine bien ce que c'est; je pense que vous soyez fou.\n--J'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 bien fou, dit-il, si j'en avais fait moins. Et cependant\nil ne me la montra pas et j'avais grande envie de la voir; de sorte que\nje dis:\n--Mais enfin, laissez-la-moi voir.\n--Arr\u00eatez, dit-il, et regardez ici d'abord. Puis il reprit le rouleau et\nse mit \u00e0 lire, et voici que c'\u00e9tait notre licence de mariage.\n--Mais, dis-je, \u00eates-vous insens\u00e9? Vous \u00e9tiez pleinement assur\u00e9, certes,\nque je c\u00e9derais au premier mot, ou bien r\u00e9solu \u00e0 ne point accepter de\nrefus!\n--La derni\u00e8re chose que vous dites est bien le cas, r\u00e9pondit-il.\n--Mais vous pouvez vous tromper, dis-je.\n--Non, non, dit-il, il ne faut pas que je sois refus\u00e9, je ne puis pas\n\u00eatre refus\u00e9.\nEt l\u00e0-dessus il se mit \u00e0 me baiser avec tant de violence que je ne pus\nme d\u00e9p\u00eatrer de lui.\nIl y avait un lit dans la chambre, et nous marchions de long en large,\ntout pleins de notre discours. Enfin il me prend par surprise dans ses\nbras, et me jeta sur le lit, et lui avec moi, et me tenant encore serr\u00e9e\ndans ses bras, mais sans tenter la moindre ind\u00e9cence, me supplia de\nconsentir avec des pri\u00e8res et des arguments tant r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e9s, protestant de\nson affection, et jurant qu'il ne me l\u00e2cherait pas que je ne lui eusse\npromis, qu'enfin je lui dis:\n--Mais je crois, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, que vous \u00eates r\u00e9solu \u00e0 ne pas \u00eatre refus\u00e9.\n--Non, non, dit-il; il ne faut pas que je sois refus\u00e9; je ne veux pas\n\u00eatre refus\u00e9; je ne peux pas \u00eatre refus\u00e9.\n--Bon, bon, lui dis-je, en lui donnant un l\u00e9ger baiser: alors on ne vous\nrefusera pas; laissez-moi me lever.\nIl fut si transport\u00e9 par mon consentement et par la tendre fa\u00e7on en\nlaquelle je m'y laissai aller, que je pensai du coup qu'il le prenait\npour le mariage m\u00eame, et qu'il n'allait point attendre les formalit\u00e9s.\nMais je lui faisais tort; car il me prit par la main, me leva, et puis\nme donnant deux ou trois baisers, me remercia de lui avoir c\u00e9d\u00e9 avec\ntant de gr\u00e2ce; et il \u00e9tait tellement submerg\u00e9 par la satisfaction, que\nje vis les larmes qui lui venaient aux yeux.\nJe me d\u00e9tournai, car mes yeux se remplissaient aussi de larmes, et lui\ndemandai la permission de me retirer un peu dans ma chambre. Si j'ai eu\nune once de sinc\u00e8re repentir pour une abominable vie de vingt-quatre\nann\u00e9es pass\u00e9es, \u00e7'a \u00e9t\u00e9 alors.\n--Oh! quel bonheur pour l'humanit\u00e9, me dis-je \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame, qu'on ne\npuisse pas lire dans le coeur d'autrui! Comme j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 heureuse si\nj'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 la femme d'un homme de tant d'honn\u00eatet\u00e9 et de tant\nd'affection, depuis le commencement!\nPuis il me vint \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e:\n--Quelle abominable cr\u00e9ature je suis! Et comme cet innocent gentilhomme\nva \u00eatre dup\u00e9 par moi! Combien peu il se doute que, venant de divorcer\nd'avec une catin, il va se jeter dans les bras d'une autre! qu'il est\nsur le point d'en \u00e9pouser une qui a couch\u00e9 avec deux fr\u00e8res et qui a eu\ntrois enfants de son propre fr\u00e8re! une qui est n\u00e9e \u00e0 Newgate, dont la\nm\u00e8re \u00e9tait une prostitu\u00e9e, et maintenant une voleuse d\u00e9port\u00e9e! une qui a\ncouch\u00e9 avec treize hommes et qui a eu un enfant depuis qu'il m'a vue!\nPauvre gentilhomme, dis-je, que va-t-il faire?\nApr\u00e8s que ces reproches que je m'adressais furent pass\u00e9s, il s'ensuivit\nainsi:\n--Eh bien, s'il faut que je sois sa femme, s'il pla\u00eet \u00e0 Dieu me donner\nsa gr\u00e2ce, je lui serai bonne femme et fid\u00e8le, et je l'aimerai selon\nl'\u00e9trange exc\u00e8s de la passion qu'il a pour moi; je lui ferai des\namendes, par ce qu'il verra, pour les torts que je lui fais, et qu'il ne\nvoit pas.\nIl \u00e9tait impatient que je sortisse de ma chambre; mais trouvant que je\nrestais trop longtemps, il descendit l'escalier et parla \u00e0 l'h\u00f4te au\nsujet du ministre.\nMon h\u00f4te, gaillard officieux, quoique bien intentionn\u00e9, avait fait\nchercher l'eccl\u00e9siastique; et quand mon monsieur se mit \u00e0 lui porter de\nl'envoyer chercher:\n--Monsieur, lui dit-il, mon ami est dans la maison.\nSi bien que sans plus de paroles, il les fit rencontrer ensemble. Quand\nil trouva le ministre, il lui demanda s'il voudrait bien s'aventurer \u00e0\nmarier un couple d'\u00e9trangers, tous deux de leur gr\u00e9. L'eccl\u00e9siastique\nr\u00e9pondit que M... lui en avait touch\u00e9 quelques mots; qu'il esp\u00e9rait que\nce n'\u00e9tait point une affaire clandestine, qu'il lui paraissait avoir\naffaire \u00e0 une personne s\u00e9rieuse, et qu'il supposait que madame n'\u00e9tait\npoint jeune fille, o\u00f9 il e\u00fbt fallu le consentement d'amis.\n--Pour vous sortir de doute l\u00e0-dessus, dit mon monsieur, lisez ce\npapier, et il tire la licence.\n--Je suis satisfait, dit le ministre; o\u00f9 est la dame?\n--Vous allez la voir tout \u00e0 l'heure, dit mon monsieur.\nQuand il eut dit, il monta l'escalier, et j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 ce moment sortie de\nma chambre; de sorte qu'il me dit que le ministre \u00e9tait en bas, et\nqu'apr\u00e8s lui avoir montr\u00e9 la licence, il s'accordait \u00e0 nous marier de\ntout son coeur, mais il demandait \u00e0 me voir; de sorte qu'il me demandait\nsi je voulais le laisser monter.\n--Il sera assez temps, dis-je, au matin, n'est-ce pas?\n--Mais, dit-il, mon coeur, il semblait entretenir quelque scrupule que\nce f\u00fbt quelque jeune fille enlev\u00e9e \u00e0 ses parents, et je lui ai assur\u00e9\nque nous \u00e9tions tous deux d'\u00e2ge \u00e0 disposer de notre consentement; et\nc'est de l\u00e0 qu'il a demand\u00e9 \u00e0 vous voir.\n--Eh bien, dis-je, faites comme il vous plaira.\nDe sorte que voil\u00e0 qu'on fait monter l'eccl\u00e9siastique; et c'\u00e9tait une\nbonne personne de caract\u00e8re bien joyeux. On lui avait dit, para\u00eet-il,\nque nous nous \u00e9tions rencontr\u00e9s l\u00e0 par accident, que j'\u00e9tais venue dans\nun coche de Chester et mon monsieur dans son propre carrosse pour me\nrencontrer; que nous aurions d\u00fb nous retrouver la nuit d'avant \u00e0 Stony\nStratford, mais qu'il n'avait pu parvenir jusque-l\u00e0.\n--Eh bien, monsieur, dit le ministre, en tout mauvais tour il y a\nquelque bien; le d\u00e9sappointement, monsieur, lui dit-il, a \u00e9t\u00e9 pour vous,\net le bon tour est pour moi, car si vous vous fussiez rencontr\u00e9s \u00e0 Stony\nStratford je n'eusse pas eu l'honneur de vous marier. Notre h\u00f4te,\navez-vous un livre ordinaire des pri\u00e8res?\nJe tressautai, comme d'effroi:\n--Monsieur, m'\u00e9criai-je, que voulez-vous dire? Quoi, se marier dans une\nauberge, et la nuit!\n--Madame, dit le ministre, si vous d\u00e9sirez que la c\u00e9r\u00e9monie en soit\npass\u00e9e \u00e0 l'\u00e9glise, vous serez satisfaite; mais je vous assure que votre\nmariage sera aussi solide ici qu'\u00e0 l'\u00e9glise; nous ne sommes point\nastreints par les r\u00e8glements \u00e0 ne marier nulle part qu'\u00e0 l'\u00e9glise; et\npour ce qui est de l'heure de la journ\u00e9e, elle n'a aucune importance\ndans le cas pr\u00e9sent; nos princes se marient en leurs chambres et \u00e0 huit\nou dix heures du soir.\nJe fus longtemps avant de me laisser persuader, et pr\u00e9tendis r\u00e9pugner\nenti\u00e8rement \u00e0 me marier, sinon \u00e0 l'\u00e9glise; mais tout n'\u00e9tait que\ngrimace; tant qu'\u00e0 la fin je parus me laisser fl\u00e9chir, et on fit venir\nnotre h\u00f4te, sa femme et sa fille. Notre h\u00f4te fut p\u00e8re, et clerc, et tout\nensemble; et bien joyeux nous f\u00fbmes, quoique j'avoue que les remords que\nj'avais \u00e9prouv\u00e9s auparavant pesaient lourdement sur moi et m'arrachaient\nde temps \u00e0 autre un profond soupir, ce que le mari\u00e9 remarqua, et\ns'effor\u00e7a de m'encourager, pensant, le pauvre homme, que j'avais\nquelques petites h\u00e9sitations sur le pas que j'avais fait tant \u00e0 la h\u00e2te.\nNous t\u00eenmes pleine r\u00e9jouissance ce soir-l\u00e0, et cependant tout resta si\nsecret dans l'h\u00f4tellerie, que pas un domestique de la maison n'en sut\nrien, car mon h\u00f4tesse et sa fille vinrent me servir, et ne permirent pas\nqu'aucune des servantes mont\u00e2t l'escalier. Je pris la fille de mon\nh\u00f4tesse pour demoiselle d'honneur, et envoyant chercher un boutiquier le\nlendemain matin, je fis pr\u00e9sent \u00e0 la jeune femme d'une jolie pi\u00e8ce de\nbroderies, aussi jolie qu'on put en d\u00e9couvrir en ville; et, trouvant que\nc'\u00e9tait une ville dentelli\u00e8re, je donnai \u00e0 sa m\u00e8re une pi\u00e8ce de dentelle\nau fuseau pour se faire une coiffe.\nUne des raisons pour lesquelles notre h\u00f4te garda si \u00e9troitement le\nsecret fut qu'il ne d\u00e9sirait pas que la chose v\u00eent aux oreilles du\nministre de la paroisse; mais, si adroitement qu'il s'y pr\u00eet, quelqu'un\nen eut vent, si bien qu'on mit les cloches \u00e0 sonner le lendemain matin\nde bonne heure, et qu'on nous fit sous notre fen\u00eatre toute la musique\nqui put se trouver en ville; mais notre h\u00f4te donna couleur que nous\n\u00e9tions mari\u00e9s avant d'arriver; seulement qu'\u00e9tant autrefois descendus\nchez lui, nous avions voulu faire notre souper de noces dans sa maison.\nNous ne p\u00fbmes trouver dans nos coeurs de bouger le lendemain; car, en\nsomme, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9rang\u00e9s par les cloches le matin, et n'ayant peut-\u00eatre\npas trop dormi auparavant, nous f\u00fbmes si pleins de sommeil ensuite, que\nnous rest\u00e2mes au lit jusqu'\u00e0 pr\u00e8s de midi.\nJe demandai \u00e0 mon h\u00f4tesse qu'elle f\u00eet en sorte que nous n'eussions plus\nde tintamarre en ville, ni de sonneries de cloches, et elle s'arrangea\nsi bien que nous f\u00fbmes tr\u00e8s tranquilles.\nMais une \u00e9trange rencontre interrompit ma joie pendant assez longtemps.\nLa grande salle de la maison donnait sur la rue, et j'\u00e9tais all\u00e9e\njusqu'au bout de la salle, et, comme la journ\u00e9e \u00e9tait belle et ti\u00e8de\nj'avais ouvert la fen\u00eatre, et je m'y tenais pour prendre l'air, quand je\nvis trois gentilshommes qui passaient \u00e0 cheval et qui entraient dans une\nh\u00f4tellerie justement en face de la n\u00f4tre.\nIl n'y avait pas \u00e0 le dissimuler, et je n'eus point lieu de me le\ndemander, mais le second des trois \u00e9tait mon mari du Lancashire. Je fus\nterrifi\u00e9e jusqu'\u00e0 la mort; je ne fus jamais dans une telle consternation\nen ma vie; je crus que je m'enfoncerais en terre; mon sang se gla\u00e7a dans\nmes veines et je tremblai comme si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 saisie d'un acc\u00e8s froid\nde fi\u00e8vre. Il n'y avait point lieu de douter de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, dis-je: je\nreconnaissais ses v\u00eatements, je reconnaissais son cheval et je\nreconnaissais son visage.\nLa premi\u00e8re r\u00e9flexion que je fis fut que mon mari n'\u00e9tait pas aupr\u00e8s de\nmoi pour voir mon d\u00e9sordre, et j'en fus bien heureuse. Les gentilshommes\nne furent pas longtemps dans la maison qu'ils vinrent \u00e0 la fen\u00eatre de\nleur chambre, comme il arrive d'ordinaire; mais ma fen\u00eatre \u00e9tait ferm\u00e9e,\nvous pouvez en \u00eatre s\u00fbrs; cependant je ne pus m'emp\u00eacher de les regarder\n\u00e0 la d\u00e9rob\u00e9e, et l\u00e0 je le revis encore. Je l'entendis appeler un des\ndomestiques pour une chose dont il avait besoin, et je re\u00e7us toutes les\nterrifiantes confirmations qu'il \u00e9tait possible d'avoir sur ce que\nc'\u00e9tait la personne m\u00eame.\nMon prochain souci fut de conna\u00eetre l'affaire qui l'amenait, mais\nc'\u00e9tait une chose impossible. Tant\u00f4t mon imagination formait l'id\u00e9e\nd'une chose affreuse, tant\u00f4t d'une autre; tant\u00f4t je me figurais qu'il\nm'avait d\u00e9couverte, et qu'il venait me reprocher mon ingratitude et la\nsouillure de l'honneur; puis je m'imaginai qu'il montait l'escalier pour\nm'insulter; et d'innombrables pens\u00e9es me venaient \u00e0 la t\u00eate de ce qui\nn'avait jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans la sienne, ni ne pouvait y \u00eatre, \u00e0 moins que le\ndiable le lui e\u00fbt r\u00e9v\u00e9l\u00e9.\nJe demeurai dans ma frayeur pr\u00e8s de deux heures et quittai \u00e0 peine de\nl'oeil la fen\u00eatre ou la porte de l'h\u00f4tellerie o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient. \u00c0 la fin,\nentendant un grand pi\u00e9tinement sous le porche de leur h\u00f4tellerie, je\ncourus \u00e0 la fen\u00eatre; et, \u00e0 ma grande satisfaction, je les vis tous trois\nressortir et prendre la route de l'ouest; s'ils se fussent dirig\u00e9s vers\nLondres, j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 encore en frayeur qu'il me rencontr\u00e2t de nouveau,\net qu'il me reconn\u00fbt; mais il prit la direction contraire, de sorte que\nje fus soulag\u00e9e de ce d\u00e9sordre.\nNous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de partir le lendemain, mais vers six heures du soir,\nnous f\u00fbmes alarm\u00e9s par un grand tumulte dans la rue, et des gens qui\nchevauchaient comme s'ils fussent hors de sens; et qu'\u00e9tait-ce sinon une\nhu\u00e9e sur trois voleurs de grand'route qui avaient pill\u00e9 deux carrosses\net quelques voyageurs pr\u00e8s de Dunstable-Hill et il para\u00eet qu'avis avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 donn\u00e9 qu'on les avait vus \u00e0 Brickhill, dans telle maison, par o\u00f9 on\nentendait la maison o\u00f9 avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 ces gentilshommes.\nLa maison fut aussit\u00f4t occup\u00e9e et fouill\u00e9e. Mais il y avait assez de\nt\u00e9moignages que les gentilshommes \u00e9taient partis depuis plus de trois\nheures. La foule s'\u00e9tant amass\u00e9e, nous e\u00fbmes promptement des nouvelles;\net alors je me sentis le coeur troubl\u00e9 d'une bien autre mani\u00e8re. Je dis\nbient\u00f4t aux gens de la maison que je me faisais forte de dire que\nc'\u00e9taient d'honn\u00eates personnes, et que je connaissais l'un de ces\ngentilshommes pour une fort honn\u00eate personne, et de bon \u00e9tat dans le\nLancashire.\nLe commissaire qui \u00e9tait venu sur la hu\u00e9e fut imm\u00e9diatement inform\u00e9 de\nceci, et vint me trouver afin d'avoir satisfaction par ma propre bouche;\net je lui assurai que j'avais vu les trois gentilshommes, comme j'\u00e9tais\n\u00e0 la fen\u00eatre, que je les avais vus ensuite aux fen\u00eatres de la salle o\u00f9\nils avaient d\u00een\u00e9; que je les avais vus monter \u00e0 cheval et que je\npourrais lui jurer que je connaissais l'un d'eux pour \u00eatre un tel, et\nque c'\u00e9tait un gentilhomme de fort bon \u00e9tat et de parfait caract\u00e8re dans\nle Lancashire, d'o\u00f9 j'arrivais justement dans mon voyage.\nL'assurance avec laquelle je m'exprimais arr\u00eata tout net le menu peuple\net donna telle satisfaction au commissaire qu'il sonna imm\u00e9diatement la\nretraite, disant \u00e0 ses gens que ce n'\u00e9taient pas l\u00e0 les hommes, mais\nqu'il avait re\u00e7u avis que c'\u00e9taient de tr\u00e8s honn\u00eates gentilshommes; et\nainsi ils s'en retourn\u00e8rent tous. Quelle \u00e9tait la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de la chose, je\nn'en sus rien, mais il est certain que les carrosses avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 pill\u00e9s\n\u00e0 Dunstable-Hill, et 560\u00a3 d'argent vol\u00e9es; de plus, quelques marchands\nde dentelle qui voyagent toujours sur cette route avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9trouss\u00e9s\naussi. Pour ce qui est des trois gentilshommes, je remettrai \u00e0 expliquer\nl'affaire plus tard.\nEh bien, cette alarme nous retint encore une journ\u00e9e, bien que mon \u00e9poux\nm'assur\u00e2t qu'il \u00e9tait toujours beaucoup plus s\u00fbr de voyager apr\u00e8s un\nvol, parce qu'il \u00e9tait certain que les voleurs s'\u00e9taient enfuis assez\nloin, apr\u00e8s avoir alarm\u00e9 le pays; mais j'\u00e9tais inqui\u00e8te, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9\nsurtout de peur que ma vieille connaissance f\u00fbt encore sur la\ngrand'route et par chance me vit. Je ne passai jamais quatre jours\nd'affil\u00e9e plus d\u00e9licieux dans ma vie: je fus jeune mari\u00e9e pendant tout\nce temps, et mon nouvel \u00e9poux s'effor\u00e7ait de me charmer en tout. Oh! si\ncet \u00e9tat de vie avait pu continuer! comme toutes mes peines pass\u00e9es\nauraient \u00e9t\u00e9 oubli\u00e9es et mes futures douleurs \u00e9vit\u00e9es! mais j'avais \u00e0\nrendre compte d'une vie pass\u00e9e de l'esp\u00e8ce la plus affreuse, tant en ce\nmonde que dans un autre.\nNous part\u00eemes le cinqui\u00e8me jour; et mon h\u00f4te, parce qu'il me voyait\ninqui\u00e8te, monta lui-m\u00eame \u00e0 cheval, son fils, et trois honn\u00eates\ncampagnards avec de bonnes armes \u00e0 feu, et sans rien nous dire,\naccompagn\u00e8rent le carrosse, pour nous conduire en s\u00fbret\u00e9 \u00e0 Dunstable.\nNous ne pouvions faire moins que de les traiter tr\u00e8s bravement \u00e0\nDunstable, ce qui co\u00fbta \u00e0 mon \u00e9poux environ dix ou douze shillings, et\nquelque chose qu'il donna aux hommes pour leur perte de temps, mais mon\nh\u00f4te ne voulut rien prendre pour lui-m\u00eame.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 le plus heureux arrangement qui se p\u00fbt rencontrer pour moi;\ncar si j'\u00e9tais venue \u00e0 Londres sans \u00eatre mari\u00e9e, ou bien il m'aurait\nfallu aller chez lui pour l'entretien de la premi\u00e8re nuit, ou bien lui\nd\u00e9couvrir que je n'avais point une connaissance dans toute la cit\u00e9 de\nLondres qui p\u00fbt recevoir une pauvre mari\u00e9e et lui donner logement pour\nsa nuit de noces avec son \u00e9poux. Mais maintenant je ne fis point de\nscrupules pour rentrer droit \u00e0 la maison avec lui, et l\u00e0 je pris\npossession d'un coup d'une maison bien garnie et d'un mari en tr\u00e8s bonne\ncondition, de sorte que j'avais la perspective d'une vie tr\u00e8s heureuse,\nsi je m'entendais \u00e0 la conduire; et j'avais loisir de consid\u00e9rer la\nr\u00e9elle valeur de la vie que j'allais sans doute mener; combien elle\nserait diff\u00e9rente du r\u00f4le d\u00e9r\u00e9gl\u00e9 que j'avais jou\u00e9 auparavant, et\ncombien on a plus de bonheur en une vie vertueuse et modeste que dans ce\nque nous appelons une vie de plaisir.\nOh! si cette particuli\u00e8re sc\u00e8ne d'existence avait pu durer, ou si\nj'avais appris, dans le temps o\u00f9 je pus en jouir, \u00e0 en go\u00fbter la\nv\u00e9ritable douceur, et si je n'\u00e9tais pas tomb\u00e9e dans cette pauvret\u00e9 qui\nest le poison certain de la vertu, combien j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 heureuse, non\nseulement alors, mais peut-\u00eatre pour toujours! Car tandis que je vivais\nainsi, j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9ellement repentante de toute ma vie pass\u00e9e; je la\nconsid\u00e9rais avec horreur, et je puis v\u00e9ritablement dire que je me\nha\u00efssais moi-m\u00eame pour l'avoir men\u00e9e. Souvent je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais comment\nmon amant \u00e0 Bath, frapp\u00e9 par la main de Dieu, s'\u00e9tait repenti, et\nm'avait abandonn\u00e9e, et avait refus\u00e9 de plus me voir, quoiqu'il m'aim\u00e2t \u00e0\nl'extr\u00eame; mais moi, aiguillonn\u00e9e par ce pire des d\u00e9mons, la pauvret\u00e9,\nretournai aux viles pratiques, et fis servir l'avantage de ce qu'on\nappelle une jolie figure \u00e0 soulager ma d\u00e9tresse, faisant de la beaut\u00e9\nl'entremetteuse du vice.\nJ'ai v\u00e9cu avec ce mari dans la plus parfaite tranquillit\u00e9; c'\u00e9tait un\nhomme calme, sobre et de bon sens, vertueux, modeste, sinc\u00e8re, et en ses\naffaires diligent et juste; ses affaires n'embrassaient pas un grand\ncercle et ses revenus suffisaient pleinement \u00e0 vivre sur un pied\nordinaire; je ne dis pas \u00e0 tenir \u00e9quipage ou \u00e0 faire figure, ainsi que\ndit le monde, et je ne m'y \u00e9tais point attendue ni ne le d\u00e9sirais; car\nainsi que j'avais horreur de la l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9 et de l'extravagance de ma vie\nd'auparavant, ainsi avais-je maintenant choisi de vivre retir\u00e9e, de\nfa\u00e7on frugale, et entre nous; je ne recevais point de soci\u00e9t\u00e9, ne\nfaisais point de visites; je prenais soin de ma famille et j'obligeais\nmon mari; et ce genre de vie me devenait un plaisir.\nNous v\u00e9c\u00fbmes dans un cours ininterrompu d'aise et de contentement\npendant cinq ans, quand un coup soudain d'une main presque invisible\nruina tout mon bonheur et me jeta en une condition contraire \u00e0 toutes\ncelles qui avaient pr\u00e9c\u00e9d\u00e9.\nMon mari ayant confi\u00e9 \u00e0 un de ses clercs associ\u00e9s une somme d'argent\ntrop grande pour que nos fortunes pussent en supporter la perte, le\nclerc fit faillite, et la perte tomba tr\u00e8s lourdement sur mon mari.\nCependant elle n'\u00e9tait pas si forte que s'il e\u00fbt eu le courage de\nregarder ses malheurs en face, son cr\u00e9dit \u00e9tait tellement bon, qu'ainsi\nque je lui disais, il e\u00fbt pu facilement la recouvrer; car se laisser\nabattre par la peine, c'est en doubler le poids, et celui qui veut y\nmourir, y mourra.\nIl \u00e9tait en vain d'essayer de le consoler; la blessure \u00e9tait trop\nprofonde; c'est un coup qui avait perc\u00e9 les entrailles; il devint\nm\u00e9lancolique et inconsolable, et de l\u00e0 tomba dans la l\u00e9thargie et\nmourut. Je pr\u00e9vis le coup et fus extr\u00eamement oppress\u00e9e dans mon esprit,\ncar je voyais \u00e9videmment que s'il mourait j'\u00e9tais perdue.\nJ'avais eu deux enfants de lui, point plus, car il commen\u00e7ait maintenant\n\u00e0 \u00eatre temps pour moi de cesser d'avoir des enfants; car j'avais\nmaintenant quarante-huit ans et je pense que, s'il avait v\u00e9cu, je n'en\naurais pas eu d'autres.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant abandonn\u00e9e dans un morne et inconsolable cas, en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, et en plusieurs choses le pire de tous. D'abord c'\u00e9tait fini de\nmon temps florissant o\u00f9 je pouvais esp\u00e9rer d'\u00eatre courtis\u00e9e comme\nma\u00eetresse; cette agr\u00e9able partie avait d\u00e9clin\u00e9 depuis quelque temps et\nles ruines seules paraissaient de ce qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9; et le pire de tout\n\u00e9tait ceci, que j'\u00e9tais la cr\u00e9ature la plus d\u00e9courag\u00e9e et la plus\ninconsol\u00e9e qui f\u00fbt au monde; moi qui avais encourag\u00e9 mon mari et m'\u00e9tais\nefforc\u00e9e de soutenir les miens, je manquais de ce courage dans la\ndouleur que je lui disais qui \u00e9tait si n\u00e9cessaire pour supporter le\nfardeau.\nMais mon cas \u00e9tait v\u00e9ritablement d\u00e9plorable, car j'\u00e9tais abandonn\u00e9e\nabsolument sans amis ni aide, et la perte qu'avait subie mon mari avait\nr\u00e9duit sa condition si bas que bien qu'en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je ne fusse pas en\ndette, cependant je pouvais facilement pr\u00e9voir que ce que j'avais encore\nne me suffirait longtemps; que la petite somme fondait tous les jours\npour ma subsistance; de sorte qu'elle serait bient\u00f4t enti\u00e8rement\nd\u00e9pens\u00e9e, et puis je ne voyais plus devant moi que l'extr\u00eame d\u00e9tresse,\net ceci se repr\u00e9sentait si vivement \u00e0 mes pens\u00e9es, qu'il semblait\nqu'elle f\u00fbt arriv\u00e9e, autant qu'elle f\u00fbt r\u00e9ellement tr\u00e8s proche; aussi\nmes appr\u00e9hensions seules doublaient ma mis\u00e8re: car je me figurais que\nchaque pi\u00e8ce de douze sous que je donnais pour une miche de pain \u00e9tait\nla derni\u00e8re que j'eusse au monde et que le lendemain j'allais je\u00fbner, et\nm'affamer jusqu'\u00e0 la mort.\nDans cette d\u00e9tresse, je n'avais ni aide ni ami pour me consoler ou\nm'aviser; je restais assise, pleurant et me tourmentant nuit et jour,\ntordant mes mains, et quelquefois extravagant comme une femme folle, et\nen v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je me suis souvent \u00e9tonn\u00e9e que ma raison n'en ait pas \u00e9t\u00e9\naffect\u00e9e, car j'avais les vapeurs \u00e0 un tel degr\u00e9 que mon entendement\n\u00e9tait parfois enti\u00e8rement perdu en fantaisies et en imaginations.\nJe v\u00e9cus deux ann\u00e9es dans cette morne condition, consumant le peu que\nj'avais, pleurant continuellement sur mes mornes circonstances, et en\nquelque fa\u00e7on ne faisant que saigner \u00e0 mort, sans le moindre espoir,\nsans perspective de secours; et maintenant j'avais pleur\u00e9 si longtemps\net si souvent que les larmes \u00e9taient \u00e9puis\u00e9es et que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre\nd\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e, car je devenais pauvre \u00e0 grands pas.\nPour m'all\u00e9ger un peu, j'avais quitt\u00e9 ma maison et lou\u00e9 un logement: et\nainsi que je r\u00e9duisais mon train de vie, ainsi je vendis la plupart de\nmes meubles, ce qui mit un peu d'argent dans ma poche, et je v\u00e9cus pr\u00e8s\nd'un an l\u00e0-dessus, d\u00e9pensant avec bien de l'\u00e9pargne, et tirant les\nchoses \u00e0 l'extr\u00eame; mais encore quand je regardais devant moi, mon coeur\ns'enfon\u00e7ait en moi \u00e0 l'in\u00e9vitable approche de la mis\u00e8re et du besoin.\nOh! que personne ne lise cette partie sans s\u00e9rieusement r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur\nles circonstances d'un \u00e9tat d\u00e9sol\u00e9 et comment ils seraient aux prises\navec le manque d'amis et le manque de pain; voil\u00e0 qui les fera\ncertainement songer non seulement \u00e0 \u00e9pargner ce qu'ils ont, mais \u00e0 se\ntourner vers le ciel pour implorer son soutien et \u00e0 la pri\u00e8re de l'homme\nsage; \u00abNe me donne point la pauvret\u00e9, afin que je ne vole point.\u00bb\nQu'ils se souviennent qu'un temps de d\u00e9tresse est un temps d'affreuse\ntentation, et toute la force pour r\u00e9sister est \u00f4t\u00e9e; la pauvret\u00e9 presse,\nl'\u00e2me est faite d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e par la d\u00e9tresse, et que peut-on faire? Ce fut\nun soir, qu'\u00e9tant arriv\u00e9e, comme je puis dire, au dernier soupir, je\ncrois que je puis vraiment dire que j'\u00e9tais folle et que j'extravaguais,\nlorsque, pouss\u00e9e par je ne sais quel esprit, et comme il \u00e9tait, faisant\nje ne sais quoi, ou pourquoi, je m'habillai (car j'avais encore d'assez\nbons habits) et je sortis. Je suis tr\u00e8s s\u00fbre que je n'avais aucune\nmani\u00e8re de dessein dans ma t\u00eate quand je sortis; je ne savais ni ne\nconsid\u00e9rais o\u00f9 aller, ni \u00e0 quelle affaire: mais ainsi que le diable\nm'avait pouss\u00e9e dehors et m'avait pr\u00e9par\u00e9 son app\u00e2t, ainsi il m'amena\ncomme vous pouvez \u00eatre s\u00fbrs \u00e0 l'endroit m\u00eame, car je ne savais ni o\u00f9\nj'allais ni ce que je faisais.\nErrant ainsi \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, je ne savais o\u00f9, je passai pr\u00e8s de la boutique\nd'un apothicaire dans Leadenhall-Street, o\u00f9 je vis plac\u00e9 sur un escabeau\njuste devant le comptoir un petit paquet envelopp\u00e9 dans un linge blanc:\nderri\u00e8re se tenait une servante, debout, qui lui tournait le dos,\nregardant en l'air vers le fond de la boutique o\u00f9 l'apprenti de\nl'apothicaire, comme je suppose \u00e9tait mont\u00e9 sur le comptoir, le dos\ntourn\u00e9 \u00e0 la porte, lui aussi, et une chandelle \u00e0 la main, regardant et\ncherchant \u00e0 atteindre une \u00e9tag\u00e8re sup\u00e9rieure, pour y prendre quelque\nchose dont il avait besoin de sorte que tous deux \u00e9taient occup\u00e9s: et\npersonne d'autre dans la boutique.\nCeci \u00e9tait l'app\u00e2t; et le diable qui avait pr\u00e9par\u00e9 le pi\u00e8ge\nm'aiguillonna, comme s'il e\u00fbt parl\u00e9; car je me rappelle, et je\nn'oublierai jamais: ce fut comme une voix souffl\u00e9e au-dessus de mon\n\u00e9paule: \u00abPrends le paquet; prends-le vite; fais-le maintenant.\u00bb\n\u00c0 peine fut-ce dit que j'entrai dans la boutique, et, le dos tourn\u00e9 \u00e0 la\nfille, comme si je me fusse dress\u00e9e pour me garer d'une charrette qui\npassait, je glissai ma main derri\u00e8re moi et pris le paquet, et m'en\nallai avec, ni la servante, ni le gar\u00e7on ne m'ayant vue, ni personne\nd'autre.\nIl est impossible d'exprimer l'horreur de mon \u00e2me pendant tout le temps\nde cette action. Quand je m'en allai, je n'eus pas le coeur de courir,\nni \u00e0 peine de changer la vitesse de mon pas; je traversai la rue, en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, et je pris le premier tournant que je trouvai, et je crois que\nc'\u00e9tait une rue de crois\u00e9e qui donnait dans Fenchurch-Street; de l\u00e0 je\ntraversai et tournai par tant de chemins et de tournants que je ne\nsaurais jamais dire quel chemin je pris ni o\u00f9 j'allais; je ne sentais\npas le sol sur lequel je marchais, et plus je m'\u00e9loignais du danger,\nplus vite je courais, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que, lasse et hors d'haleine, je fus\nforc\u00e9e de m'asseoir sur un petit banc \u00e0 une porte, et puis d\u00e9couvris que\nj'\u00e9tais arriv\u00e9e dans Thames-Street, pr\u00e8s de Billingsgate. Je me reposai\nun peu et puis continuai ma route; mon sang \u00e9tait tout en un feu, mon\ncoeur battait comme si je fusse en une frayeur soudaine; en somme\nj'\u00e9tais sous une telle surprise que je ne savais ni o\u00f9 j'allais ni quoi\nfaire.\nApr\u00e8s m'\u00eatre ainsi lass\u00e9e \u00e0 faire un long chemin errant, et avec tant\nd'ardeur, je commen\u00e7ai de consid\u00e9rer, et de me diriger vers mon logement\no\u00f9 je parvins environ neuf heures du soir.\nPourquoi le paquet avait \u00e9t\u00e9 fait ou \u00e0 quelle occasion plac\u00e9 la o\u00f9 je\nl'avais trouv\u00e9, je ne le sus point, mais quand je vins \u00e0 l'ouvrir, je\ntrouvai qu'il contenait un trousseau de b\u00e9b\u00e9, tr\u00e8s bon et presque neuf,\nla dentelle tr\u00e8s fine; il y avait une \u00e9cuelle d'argent d'une pinte, un\npetit pot d'argent et six cuillers avec d'autre linge, une bonne\nchemise, et trois mouchoirs de soie, et dans le pot un papier, 18\nshillings 6 deniers en argent.\nTout le temps que j'ouvrais ces choses j'\u00e9tais sous de si affreuses\nimpressions de frayeur, et dans une telle terreur d'esprit, quoique je\nfusse parfaitement en s\u00fbret\u00e9, que je ne saurais en exprimer la mani\u00e8re;\nje m'assis et pleurai tr\u00e8s ardemment.\n--Seigneur! m'\u00e9criai-je, que suis-je maintenant? une voleuse? Quoi! je\nserai prise au prochain coup, et emport\u00e9e \u00e0 Newgate et je passerai au\njugement capital!\nEt l\u00e0-dessus je pleurai encore longtemps et je suis s\u00fbre, si pauvre que\nje fusse, si j'eusse os\u00e9 dans ma terreur, j'aurais certainement rapport\u00e9\nles affaires: mais ceci se passa apr\u00e8s un temps. Eh bien, je me mis au\nlit cette nuit, mais dormis peu; l'horreur de l'action \u00e9tait sur mon\nesprit et je ne sus pas ce que je disais ou ce que je faisais toute la\nnuit et tout le jour suivant. Puis je fus impatiente d'apprendre quelque\nnouvelle sur la perte; et j'\u00e9tais avide de savoir ce qu'il en \u00e9tait, si\nc'\u00e9tait le bien d'une pauvre personne ou d'une riche; peut-\u00eatre dis-je,\nque c'est par chance quelque pauvre veuve comme moi, qui avait empaquet\u00e9\nces hardes afin d'aller les vendre pour un peu de pain pour elle et un\npauvre enfant, et que maintenant ils meurent de faim et se brisent le\ncoeur par faute du peu que cela leur aurait donn\u00e9; et cette pens\u00e9e me\ntourmenta plus que tout le reste pendant trois ou quatre jours.\nMais mes propres d\u00e9tresses r\u00e9duisirent au silence toutes ces\nr\u00e9flexions, et la perspective de ma propre faim, qui devenait tous les\njours plus terrifiante pour moi, m'endurcit le coeur par degr\u00e9s. Ce fut\nalors que pesa surtout sur mon esprit la pens\u00e9e que j'avais eu des\nremords et que je m'\u00e9tais, ainsi que je l'esp\u00e9rais, repentie de tous mes\ncrimes pass\u00e9s; que j'avais v\u00e9cu d'une vie sobre, s\u00e9rieuse et retir\u00e9e\npendant plusieurs ann\u00e9es; mais que maintenant j'\u00e9tais pouss\u00e9e par\nl'affreuse n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de mes circonstances jusqu'aux portes de la\ndestruction, \u00e2me et corps; et deux ou trois fois je tombai sur mes\ngenoux, priant Dieu, comme bien je le pouvais, pour la d\u00e9livrance; mais\nje ne puis m'emp\u00eacher de dire que mes pri\u00e8res n'avaient point d'espoir\nen elles; je ne savais que faire; tout n'\u00e9tait que terreur au dehors et\nt\u00e9n\u00e8bres au dedans; et je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais sur ma vie pass\u00e9e comme si je ne\nm'en fusse pas repentie, et que le ciel commen\u00e7\u00e2t maintenant de me\npunir, et d\u00fbt me rendre aussi mis\u00e9rable que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 mauvaise.\nSi j'avais continu\u00e9 ici, j'aurais peut-\u00eatre \u00e9t\u00e9 une v\u00e9ritable p\u00e9nitente;\nmais j'avais un mauvais conseiller en moi, et il m'aiguillonnait sans\ncesse \u00e0 me soulager par les moyens les pires; de sorte qu'un soir il me\ntenta encore par la m\u00eame mauvaise impulsion qui avait dit: _prends ce\npaquet_, de sortir encore pour chercher ce qui pouvait se pr\u00e9senter.\nJe sortis maintenant \u00e0 la lumi\u00e8re du jour, et j'errai je ne sais o\u00f9, et\nen cherche de je ne sais quoi, quand le diable mit sur mon chemin un\npi\u00e8ge de terrible nature, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, et tel que je n'en ai jamais\nrencontr\u00e9 avant ou depuis. Passant dans Aldersgate-Street, il y avait l\u00e0\nune jolie petite fille qui venait de l'\u00e9cole de danse et s'en retournait\nchez elle toute seule; et mon tentateur, comme un vrai d\u00e9mon, me poussa\nvers cette innocente cr\u00e9ature. Je lui parlai et elle me r\u00e9pondit par son\nbabillage, et je la pris par la main et la menai tout le long du chemin\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'arrivai dans une all\u00e9e pav\u00e9e qui donne dans le Clos\nSaint-Barth\u00e9lemy, et je la menai l\u00e0-dedans. L'enfant dit que ce n'\u00e9tait\npas sa route pour rentrer. Je dis:\n--Si, mon petit coeur, c'est bien ta route; je vais te montrer ton\nchemin pour retourner chez toi.\nL'enfant portait un petit collier de perles d'or, et j'avais mon oeil\nsur ce collier, et dans le noir de l'all\u00e9e, je me baissai, sous couleur\nde rattacher la collerette de l'enfant qui s'\u00e9tait d\u00e9faite, et je lui\n\u00f4tai son collier, et l'enfant ne sentit rien du tout, et ainsi je\ncontinuai de mener l'enfant. L\u00e0, dis-je, le diable me poussa \u00e0 tuer\nl'enfant dans l'all\u00e9e noire, afin qu'elle ne cri\u00e2t pas; mais la seule\npens\u00e9e me terrifia au point que je fus pr\u00e8s de tomber \u00e0 terre; mais je\nfis retourner l'enfant, et lui dis de s'en aller, car ce n'\u00e9tait point\nson chemin pour rentrer; l'enfant dit qu'elle ferait comme je disais, et\nje passai jusque dans le Clos Saint-Barth\u00e9lemy, et puis tournai vers un\nautre passage qui donne dans Long-Lane, de l\u00e0 dans Charterhouse-Yard et\nje ressortis dans John's-Street; puis croisant dans Smithfield, je\ndescendis Chick-Lane, et j'entrai dans Fied-Lane pour gagner\nHolborn-Bridge, o\u00f9 me m\u00ealant dans la foule des gens qui y passent\nd'ordinaire, il n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 possible d'\u00eatre d\u00e9couverte. Et ainsi je\nfis ma seconde sortie dans le monde.\nLes pens\u00e9es sur ce butin chass\u00e8rent toutes les pens\u00e9es sur le premier,\net les r\u00e9flexions que j'avais faites se dissip\u00e8rent promptement; la\npauvret\u00e9 endurcissait mon coeur et mes propres n\u00e9cessit\u00e9s me rendaient\ninsouciante de tout. Cette derni\u00e8re affaire ne me laissa pas grand\nsouci; car n'ayant point fait de mal \u00e0 la pauvre enfant, je pensai\nseulement avoir donn\u00e9 aux parents une juste le\u00e7on pour la n\u00e9gligence\nqu'ils montraient en laissant rentrer tout seul ce pauvre petit agneau,\net que cela leur apprendrait \u00e0 prendre garde une autre fois.\nCe cordon de perles valait environ 12 ou 14\u00a3. Je suppose qu'auparavant\nil avait appartenu \u00e0 la m\u00e8re, car il \u00e9tait trop grand pour l'enfant,\nmais que peut-\u00eatre la vanit\u00e9 de la m\u00e8re qui voulait que sa fille e\u00fbt\nl'air brave \u00e0 l'\u00e9cole de danse l'avait pouss\u00e9e \u00e0 le faire porter \u00e0\nl'enfant et sans doute l'enfant avait une servante qui e\u00fbt d\u00fb la\nsurveiller, mais elle comme une n\u00e9gligente friponne, s'occupant\npeut-\u00eatre de quelque gar\u00e7on qu'elle avait rencontr\u00e9, la pauvre petite\navait err\u00e9 jusqu'\u00e0 tomber dans mes mains.\nToutefois je ne fis point de mal \u00e0 l'enfant; je ne fis pas tant que\nl'effrayer, car j'avais encore en moi infiniment d'imaginations tendres,\net je ne faisais rien \u00e0 quoi, ainsi que je puis dire, la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 ne me\npouss\u00e2t.\nJ'eus un grand nombre d'aventures apr\u00e8s celle-ci; mais j'\u00e9tais jeune\ndans le m\u00e9tier, et je ne savais comment m'y prendre autrement qu'ainsi\nque le diable me mettait les choses dans la t\u00eate, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, il ne\ntardait gu\u00e8re avec moi. Une des aventures que j'eus fut tr\u00e8s heureuse\npour moi. Je passais par Lombard-Street, \u00e0 la tomb\u00e9e du soir, juste vers\nle bout de la Cour des Trois-Rois, quand tout \u00e0 coup arrive un homme\ntout courant pr\u00e8s de moi, prompt comme l'\u00e9clair, et jette un paquet qui\n\u00e9tait dans sa main juste derri\u00e8re moi, comme je me tenais contre le coin\nde la maison au tournant de l'all\u00e9e; juste comme il le jetait l\u00e0 dedans,\nil dit:\n--Dieu vous sauve, madame, laissez-le l\u00e0 un moment.\nEt le voil\u00e0 qui s'enfuit. Apr\u00e8s lui en viennent deux autres et\nimm\u00e9diatement un jeune homme sans chapeau, criant: \u00abAu voleur!\u00bb Ils\npoursuivirent ces deux derniers hommes de si pr\u00e8s qu'ils furent forc\u00e9s\nde laisser tomber ce qu'ils tenaient, et l'un deux fut pris par-dessus\nle march\u00e9; l'autre r\u00e9ussit \u00e0 s'\u00e9chapper.\nJe demeurai comme un plomb tout ce temps, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils revinrent,\ntra\u00eenant le pauvre homme qu'ils avaient pris et tirant apr\u00e8s lui les\nchoses qu'ils avaient trouv\u00e9es, fort satisfaits sur ce qu'ils avaient\nrecouvr\u00e9 le butin et pris le voleur; et ainsi ils pass\u00e8rent pr\u00e8s de moi,\ncar moi, je semblais seulement d'une qui se gar\u00e2t pour laisser avancer\nla foule.\nUne ou deux fois je demandai ce qu'il y avait, mais les gens n\u00e9glig\u00e8rent\nde me r\u00e9pondre et je ne fus pas fort importune; mais apr\u00e8s que la foule\nse fut enti\u00e8rement \u00e9coul\u00e9e, je saisis mon occasion pour me retourner et\nramasser ce qui \u00e9tait derri\u00e8re moi et m'en aller; ce que je fis en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 avec moins de trouble que je n'avais fait avant, car ces choses,\nje ne les avais pas vol\u00e9es, mais elles \u00e9taient venues toutes vol\u00e9es dans\nma main. Je revins saine et sauve \u00e0 mon logement, charg\u00e9e de ma prise;\nc'\u00e9tait une pi\u00e8ce de beau taffetas lustr\u00e9 noir et une pi\u00e8ce de velours;\nla derni\u00e8re n'\u00e9tait qu'un coupon de pi\u00e8ce d'environ onze aunes; la\npremi\u00e8re \u00e9tait une pi\u00e8ce enti\u00e8re de pr\u00e8s de cinquante aunes; il semblait\nque ce f\u00fbt la boutique d'un mercier qu'ils eussent pill\u00e9e; je dis\n\u00abpill\u00e9e\u00bb tant les marchandises \u00e9taient consid\u00e9rables qui y furent\nperdues; car les marchandises qu'ils recouvr\u00e8rent furent en assez grand\nnombre, et je crois arriv\u00e8rent \u00e0 environ six ou sept diff\u00e9rentes pi\u00e8ces\nde soie: comment ils avaient pu en voler tant, c'est ce que je ne puis\ndire; mais comme je n'avais fait que voler le voleur, je ne me fis point\nscrupule de prendre ces marchandises, et d'en \u00eatre fort joyeuse en plus.\nJ'avais eu assez bonne chance jusque-l\u00e0 et j'eus plusieurs autres\naventures, de peu de gain il est vrai, mais de bon succ\u00e8s: mais je\nmarchais, dans la crainte journali\u00e8re que quelque malheur m'arriv\u00e2t et\nque je viendrais certainement \u00e0 \u00eatre pendue \u00e0 la fin. L'impression que\nces pens\u00e9es me faisaient \u00e9tait trop forte pour la secouer, et elle\nm'arr\u00eata en plusieurs tentatives, qui, pour autant que je sache,\nauraient pu \u00eatre ex\u00e9cut\u00e9es en toute s\u00fbret\u00e9; mais il y a une chose que je\nne puis omettre et qui fut un app\u00e2t pour moi pendant de longs jours.\nJ'entrais fr\u00e9quemment dans les villages qui \u00e9taient autour de la ville\nafin de voir si je n'y rencontrerais rien sur mon chemin; et passant le\nlong d'une maison pr\u00e8s de Stepney, je vis sur l'appui de la fen\u00eatre deux\nbagues, l'une un petit anneau de diamant, l'autre une bague d'or simple;\nelles avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 laiss\u00e9es l\u00e0 s\u00fbrement par quelque dame \u00e9cervel\u00e9e, qui\navait plus d'argent que de jugement, peut-\u00eatre seulement jusqu'\u00e0 ce\nqu'elle se f\u00fbt lav\u00e9 les mains.\nJe passai \u00e0 plusieurs reprises pr\u00e8s de la fen\u00eatre pour observer si je\npouvais voir qu'il y e\u00fbt personne dans la chambre ou non, et je ne pus\nvoir personne, mais encore n'\u00e9tais pas s\u00fbre; un moment apr\u00e8s il me v\u00eent\n\u00e0 l'id\u00e9e de frapper contre la vitre; comme si j'eusse voulu parler \u00e0\nquelqu'un, et s'il y avait l\u00e0 personne, on viendrait s\u00fbrement \u00e0 la\nfen\u00eatre, et je leur dirais alors de ne point laisser l\u00e0 ces bagues parce\nque j'avais vu deux hommes suspects qui les consid\u00e9raient avec\nattention. Sit\u00f4t pens\u00e9, sit\u00f4t fait; je cognai une ou deux fois, et\npersonne ne vint, et aussit\u00f4t je poussai fortement le carreau qui se\nbrisa avec tr\u00e8s peu de bruit et j'enlevai les deux bagues et m'en allai;\nl'anneau de diamant valait 3\u00a3 et l'autre \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s 9 shillings.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant en embarras d'un march\u00e9 pour mes marchandises, et en\nparticulier pour mes pi\u00e8ces de soie. J'\u00e9tais fort r\u00e9pugnante \u00e0 les\nabandonner pour une bagatelle, ainsi que le font d'ordinaire les pauvres\nmalheureux voleurs qui apr\u00e8s avoir aventur\u00e9 leur existence pour une\nchose qui a peut-\u00eatre de la valeur, sont oblig\u00e9s de la vendre pour une\nchanson quand tout est fait; mais j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solue \u00e0 ne point faire\nainsi, quelque moyen qu'il fall\u00fbt prendre; pourtant je ne savais pas\nbien \u00e0 quel exp\u00e9dient recourir. Enfin je me r\u00e9solus \u00e0 aller trouver ma\nvieille gouvernante, et \u00e0 refaire sa connaissance. Je lui avais\nponctuellement remis ses cinq livres annuelles pour mon petit gar\u00e7on\ntant que je l'avais pu; mais enfin je fus oblig\u00e9e de m'arr\u00eater. Pourtant\nje lui avais \u00e9crit une lettre dans laquelle je lui disais que ma\ncondition \u00e9tait r\u00e9duite, que j'avais perdu mon mari, qu'il m'\u00e9tait\nimpossible d\u00e9sormais de suffire \u00e0 cette d\u00e9pense, et que je la suppliais\nque le pauvre enfant ne souffr\u00eet pas trop des malheurs de sa m\u00e8re.\nJe lui fis maintenant une visite, et je trouvai qu'elle pratiquait\nencore un peu son vieux m\u00e9tier, mais qu'elle n'\u00e9tait pas dans des\ncirconstances si florissantes qu'autrefois; car elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 appel\u00e9e\nen justice par un certain gentilhomme dont la fille avait \u00e9t\u00e9 enlev\u00e9e,\net au rapt de qui elle avait, para\u00eet-il, aid\u00e9; et ce fut de bien pr\u00e8s\nqu'elle \u00e9chappa \u00e0 la potence. Les frais aussi l'avaient ravag\u00e9e, de\nsorte que sa maison n'\u00e9tait que m\u00e9diocrement garnie, et qu'elle n'avait\npas si bonne r\u00e9putation en son m\u00e9tier qu'auparavant; pourtant elle \u00e9tait\nsolide sur ses jambes, comme on dit, et comme c'\u00e9tait une femme\nremuante, et qu'il lui restait quelque fonds, elle s'\u00e9tait faite\npr\u00eateuse sur gages et vivait assez bien.\nElle me re\u00e7ut de fa\u00e7on fort civile, et avec les mani\u00e8res obligeantes\nqu'elle avait toujours, m'assura qu'elle n'aurait pas moins de respect\npour moi parce que j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9duite; qu'elle avait pris soin que mon\ngar\u00e7on fut tr\u00e8s bien soign\u00e9, malgr\u00e9 que je ne pusse payer pour lui, et\nque la femme qui l'avait \u00e9tait \u00e0 l'aise, de sorte que je ne devais point\navoir d'inqui\u00e9tude \u00e0 son sujet, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je fusse en mesure de\nm'en soucier effectivement.\nJe lui dis qu'il ne me restait pas beaucoup d'argent mais que j'avais\nquelques affaires qui valaient bien de l'argent, si elle pouvait me dire\ncomment les tourner en argent. Elle demanda ce que c'\u00e9tait que j'avais.\nJe tirai le cordon de perles d'or, et lui dis que c'\u00e9tait un des cadeaux\nque mon mari m'avait faits; puis je lui fis voir les deux pi\u00e8ces de soie\nque je lui dis que j'avais eues d'Irlande et apport\u00e9es en ville avec\nmoi, et le petit anneau de diamant. Pour ce qui est du petit paquet\nd'argenterie et de cuillers, j'avais trouv\u00e9 moyen d'en disposer toute\nseule auparavant; et quant au trousseau du b\u00e9b\u00e9 que j'avais, elle\nm'offrit de le prendre elle-m\u00eame, pensant que ce f\u00fbt le mien. Elle me\ndit qu'elle s'\u00e9tait faite pr\u00eateuse sur gages et qu'elle vendrait ces\nobjets pour moi, comme s'ils lui eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 engag\u00e9s; de sorte qu'elle\nfit chercher au bout d'un moment les agents dont c'\u00e9tait l'affaire, et\nqui lui achet\u00e8rent tout cela, \u00e9tant en ses mains, sans aucun scrupule,\net encore en donn\u00e8rent de bons prix.\nJe commen\u00e7ai maintenant de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir que cette femme n\u00e9cessaire pourrait\nm'aider un peu en ma basse condition \u00e0 quelque affaire; car j'aurais\njoyeusement tourn\u00e9 la main vers n'importe quel emploi honn\u00eate, si\nj'eusse pu l'obtenir; mais des affaires honn\u00eates ne venaient pas \u00e0\nport\u00e9e d'elle. Si j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 plus jeune, peut-\u00eatre qu'elle e\u00fbt pu\nm'aider; mais mes id\u00e9es \u00e9taient loin de ce genre de vie, comme \u00e9tant\nenti\u00e8rement hors de toute possibilit\u00e9 \u00e0 cinquante ans pass\u00e9s, ce qui\n\u00e9tait mon cas, et c'est ce que je lui dis.\nElle m'invita enfin \u00e0 venir et \u00e0 demeurer dans sa maison jusqu'\u00e0 ce que\nje pusse trouver quelque chose \u00e0 faire et que cela me co\u00fbterait tr\u00e8s peu\net c'est ce que j'acceptai avec joie; et maintenant, vivant un peu plus\n\u00e0 l'aise, j'entrai en quelques mesures pour faire retirer le petit\ngar\u00e7on que j'avais eu de mon dernier mari; et sur ce point encore elle\nme mit \u00e0 l'aise, r\u00e9servant seulement un payement de cinq livres par an,\nsi cela m'\u00e9tait possible. Ceci fut pour moi un si grand secours que\npendant un bon moment je cessai le vilain m\u00e9tier o\u00f9 je venais si\nnouvellement d'entrer; et bien volontiers j'eusse pris du travail, sinon\nqu'il \u00e9tait bien difficile d'en trouver \u00e0 une qui n'avait point de\nconnaissances.\nPourtant enfin je trouvai \u00e0 faire des ouvrages piqu\u00e9s pour literie de\ndames, jupons, et autres choses semblables, et ceci me plut assez, et\nj'y travaillai bien fort, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 en vivre; mais le diligent\nd\u00e9mon, qui avait r\u00e9solu que je continuerais \u00e0 son service,\ncontinuellement m'aiguillonnait \u00e0 sortir et \u00e0 aller me promener,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 voir si je rencontrerais quelque chose en route, \u00e0\nl'ancienne fa\u00e7on.\nUne nuit j'ob\u00e9is aveugl\u00e9ment \u00e0 ses ordres et je tirai un long d\u00e9tour par\nles rues, mais ne rencontrai point d'affaire; mais non contente de cela,\nje sortis aussi le soir suivant, que passant pr\u00e8s d'une maison de bi\u00e8re,\nje vis la porte d'une petite salle ouverte, tout contre la rue, et sur\nla table un pot d'argent, chose fort en usage dans les cabarets de ce\ntemps; il para\u00eet que quelque soci\u00e9t\u00e9 venait d'y boire et les gar\u00e7ons\nn\u00e9gligents avaient oubli\u00e9 de l'emporter.\nJ'entrai dans le r\u00e9duit franchement et, pla\u00e7ant le peu d'argent sur le\ncoin du banc, je m'assis devant, et frappai du pied. Un gar\u00e7on vint\nbient\u00f4t: je le priai d'aller me chercher une pinte de bi\u00e8re chaude, car\nle temps \u00e9tait froid. Le gar\u00e7on partit courant, et je l'entendis\ndescendre au cellier pour tirer la bi\u00e8re. Pendant que le gar\u00e7on \u00e9tait\nparti, un autre gar\u00e7on arriva et me cria:\n--Avez-vous appel\u00e9?\nJe parlai d'un air m\u00e9lancolique et dis:\n--Non, le gar\u00e7on est all\u00e9 me chercher une pinte de bi\u00e8re.\nPendant que j'\u00e9tais assise l\u00e0, j'entendis la femme au comptoir qui\ndisait:\n--Sont-ils tous partis au cinq?--qui \u00e9tait le r\u00e9duit o\u00f9 je m'\u00e9tais\nassise,--et le gar\u00e7on lui dit que oui.\n--Qui a desservi le pot? demanda la femme.\n--Moi, dit un autre gar\u00e7on: tenez, le voil\u00e0: indiquant para\u00eet-il, un\nautre pot qu'il avait emport\u00e9 d'un autre r\u00e9duit par erreur; ou bien il\nfaut que le coquin e\u00fbt oubli\u00e9 qu'il ne l'avait pas emport\u00e9, ce qu'il\nn'avait certainement pas fait.\nJ'entendis tout ceci bien \u00e0 ma satisfaction, car je trouvai clairement\nqu'on ne s'apercevait pas que le pot manquait et qu'on pensait qu'il e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 desservi. Je bus donc ma bi\u00e8re: j'appelai pour payer, et comme je\npartais, je dis:\n--Prenez garde, mon enfant, \u00e0 votre argenterie.\nEt j'indiquai un pot d'argent d'une pinte o\u00f9 il m'avait apport\u00e9 \u00e0 boire;\nle gar\u00e7on dit:\n--Oui, madame, \u00e0 la bonne heure,--et je m'en allai.\nJe rentrai chez ma gouvernante et me dis que le temps \u00e9tait venu de la\nmettre \u00e0 l'\u00e9preuve, afin que, si j'\u00e9tais mise dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d'\u00eatre\nd\u00e9couverte, elle p\u00fbt m'offrir quelque assistance. Quand je fus rest\u00e9e \u00e0\nla maison quelques moments, et que j'eus l'occasion de lui parler, je\nlui dis que j'avais un secret de la plus grande importance au monde \u00e0\nlui confier, si elle avait assez de respect pour moi pour le tenir\npriv\u00e9. Elle me dit qu'elle avait fid\u00e8lement gard\u00e9 un de mes secrets;\npourquoi doutais-je qu'elle en garderait un autre? Je lui dis que la\nplus \u00e9trange chose du monde m'\u00e9tait arriv\u00e9e, m\u00eamement sans aucun\ndessein; et ainsi je lui racontai toute l'histoire du pot.\n--Et l'avez-vous apport\u00e9 avec vous, ma ch\u00e8re? dit-elle.\n--Vraiment oui, dis-je, et le lui fis voir. Mais que dois-je faire\nmaintenant? dis-je. Ne faut-il pas le rapporter?\n--Le rapporter! dit-elle. Oui-d\u00e0! si vous voulez aller \u00e0 Newgate.\n--Mais, dis-je, ils ne sauraient avoir la bassesse de m'arr\u00eater, puisque\nje le leur rapporterais.\n--Vous ne connaissez pas cette esp\u00e8ce de gens, mon enfant, dit-elle: non\nseulement ils vous enverraient \u00e0 Newgate, mais encore vous feraient\npendre, sans regarder aucunement l'honn\u00eatet\u00e9 que vous mettriez \u00e0 le\nrendre; ou bien ils dresseraient un compte de tous les pots qu'ils ont\nperdus, afin de vous les faire payer.\n--Que faut-il faire, alors? dis-je.\n--Oui, vraiment, dit-elle; puisque aussi bien vous avez fait la\nfourberie, et que vous l'avez vol\u00e9, il faut le garder maintenant; il n'y\na plus moyen d'y revenir. D'ailleurs, mon enfant, dit-elle, n'en\navons-nous pas besoin bien plus qu'eux? Je voudrais bien rencontrer\npareille aubaine tous les huit jours.\nCeci me donna une nouvelle notion sur ma gouvernante, et me fit penser\nque, depuis qu'elle s'\u00e9tait faite pr\u00eateuse sur gages, elle vivait parmi\nune esp\u00e8ce de gens qui n'\u00e9taient point des honn\u00eates que j'avais\nrencontr\u00e9s chez elle autrefois.\nCe ne fut pas longtemps que je le d\u00e9couvris encore plus clairement\nqu'auparavant; car, de temps \u00e0 autre, je voyais apporter des poign\u00e9es de\nsabre, des cuillers, des fourchettes, des pots et autres objets\nsemblables, non pour \u00eatre engag\u00e9s, mais pour \u00eatre vendus tout droit; et\nelle achetait tout sans faire de questions, o\u00f9 elle trouvait assez son\ncompte, ainsi que je trouvai par son discours.\nJe trouvai ainsi qu'en suivant ce m\u00e9tier, elle faisait toujours fondre\nla vaisselle d'argent qu'elle achetait, afin qu'on ne p\u00fbt la r\u00e9clamer;\net elle vint me dire un matin qu'elle allait mettre \u00e0 fondre, et que si\nje le d\u00e9sirais, elle y joindrait mon pot, afin qu'il ne f\u00fbt vu de\npersonne; je lui dis: \u00abDe tout mon coeur.\u00bb Elle le pesa donc et m'en\ndonna la juste valeur en argent, mais je trouvai qu'elle n'en agissait\npas de m\u00eame avec le reste de ses clients.\nQuelque temps apr\u00e8s, comme j'\u00e9tais au travail, et tr\u00e8s m\u00e9lancolique,\nelle commence de me demander ce que j'avais. Je lui dis que je me\nsentais le coeur bien lourd, que j'avais bien peu de travail, et point\nde quoi vivre, et que je ne savais quel parti prendre. Elle se mit \u00e0\nrire et me dit que je n'avais qu'\u00e0 sortir encore une fois, pour tenter\nla fortune; qu'il se pourrait que je rencontrasse une nouvelle pi\u00e8ce de\nvaisselle d'argent.\n--Oh! ma m\u00e8re, dis-je, c'est un m\u00e9tier o\u00f9 je n'ai point d'exp\u00e9rience, et\nsi je suis prise, je suis perdue du coup.\n--Oui bien, dit-elle, mais je pourrais vous faire faire la connaissance\nd'une ma\u00eetresse d'\u00e9cole qui vous ferait aussi adroite qu'elle le peut\n\u00eatre elle-m\u00eame.\nJe tremblai sur cette proposition, car jusqu'ici je n'avais ni complices\nni connaissances aucunes parmi cette tribu. Mais elle conquit toute ma\nretenue et toutes mes craintes; et, en peu de temps, \u00e0 l'aide de cette\ncomplice, je devins voleuse aussi habile et aussi subtile que le fut\njamais Moll la Coupeuse de bourses, quoique, si la renomm\u00e9e n'est point\nmenteuse, je ne fusse pas moiti\u00e9 aussi jolie.\nLe camarade qu'elle me fit conna\u00eetre \u00e9tait habile en trois fa\u00e7ons\ndiverses de travailler; c'est \u00e0 savoir: \u00e0 voler les boutiques, \u00e0 tirer\ndes carnets de boutique et de poche et \u00e0 couper des montres d'or au c\u00f4t\u00e9\ndes dames; chose o\u00f9 elle r\u00e9ussissait avec tant de dext\u00e9rit\u00e9 que pas une\nfemme n'arriva, comme elle, \u00e0 la perfection de l'art. La premi\u00e8re et la\nderni\u00e8re de ces occupations me plurent assez: et je la servis quelque\ntemps dans la pratique, juste comme une aide sert une sage-femme, sans\npayement aucun.\nEnfin, elle me mit \u00e0 l'\u00e9preuve. Elle m'avait montr\u00e9 son art et j'avais\nplusieurs fois d\u00e9croch\u00e9 une montre de sa propre ceinture avec infiniment\nd'adresse; \u00e0 la fin elle me montra une proie, et c'\u00e9tait une jeune dame\nenceinte, qui avait une montre charmante. La chose devait se faire au\nmoment qu'elle sortirait de l'\u00e9glise; elle passa d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la dame,\net juste comme elle arrivait aux marches, feint de tomber, et tomba\ncontre la dame avec une telle violence qu'elle fut dans une grande\nfrayeur, et que toutes deux pouss\u00e8rent des cris terribles; au moment\nm\u00eame qu'elle bousculait la dame, j'avais saisi la montre, et la tenant\nde la bonne fa\u00e7on, le tressaut que fit la pauvre fit \u00e9chapper l'agrafe\nsans qu'elle p\u00fbt rien sentir; je partis sur-le-champ, laissant ma\nma\u00eetresse d'\u00e9cole \u00e0 sortir peu \u00e0 peu de sa frayeur et la dame de m\u00eame;\net bient\u00f4t la montre vint \u00e0 manquer.\n--H\u00e9las! dit ma camarade, ce sont donc ces coquins qui m'ont renvers\u00e9e,\nje vous gage; je m'\u00e9tonne que Madame ne se soit point aper\u00e7ue plus t\u00f4t\nque sa montre \u00e9tait vol\u00e9e: nous aurions encore pu les prendre.\nElle colora si bien la chose que personne ne la soup\u00e7onna, et je fus\nrentr\u00e9e une bonne heure avant elle. Telle fut ma premi\u00e8re aventure en\ncompagnie; la montre \u00e9tait vraiment tr\u00e8s belle, enrichie de beaucoup de\njoyaux et ma gouvernante nous en donna 20\u00a3 dont j'eus la moiti\u00e9. Et\nainsi je fus enregistr\u00e9e parfaite voleuse, endurcie \u00e0 un point o\u00f9\nn'atteignent plus les r\u00e9flexions de la conscience ou de la modestie, et\n\u00e0 un degr\u00e9 que je n'avais jamais cru possible en moi.\nAinsi le diable qui avait commenc\u00e9 par le moyen d'une irr\u00e9sistible\npauvret\u00e9 \u00e0 me pousser vers ce vice m'amena jusqu'\u00e0 une hauteur au-dessus\ndu commun, m\u00eame quand mes n\u00e9cessit\u00e9s n'\u00e9taient point si terrifiantes;\ncar j'\u00e9tais maintenant entr\u00e9e dans une petite veine de travail, et comme\nje n'\u00e9tais pas en peine de manier l'aiguille, il \u00e9tait fort probable que\nj'aurais pu gagner mon pain assez honn\u00eatement.\nJe dois dire que si une telle perspective de travail s'\u00e9tait pr\u00e9sent\u00e9e\ntout d'abord, quand je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 sentir l'approche de ma condition\nmis\u00e9rable; si une telle perspective, dis-je, de gagner du pain par mon\ntravail s'\u00e9tait pr\u00e9sent\u00e9e alors, je ne serais jamais tomb\u00e9e dans ce\nvilain m\u00e9tier ou dans une bande si affreuse que celle avec laquelle\nj'\u00e9tais maintenant embarqu\u00e9e; mais l'habitude m'avait endurcie, et je\ndevins audacieuse au dernier degr\u00e9; et d'autant plus que j'avais\ncontinu\u00e9 si longtemps sans me faire prendre; car, en un mot, ma\npartenaire en vice et moi, nous continu\u00e2mes toutes deux si longtemps,\nsans jamais \u00eatre d\u00e9couvertes, que non seulement nous dev\u00eenmes hardies,\nmais qu'encore nous dev\u00eenmes riches, et que nous e\u00fbmes \u00e0 un moment vingt\net une montres d'or entre les mains.\nJe me souviens qu'un jour \u00e9tant un peu plus s\u00e9rieuse que de coutume, et\ntrouvant que j'avais une aussi bonne provision d'avance que celle que\nj'avais (car j'avais pr\u00e8s de 200\u00a3 d'argent pour ma part), il me vint \u00e0\nla pens\u00e9e, sans doute de la part de quelque bon esprit s'il y en a de\ntels, qu'ainsi que d'abord la pauvret\u00e9 m'avait excit\u00e9e et que mes\nd\u00e9tresses m'avaient pouss\u00e9e \u00e0 de si affreux moyens, ainsi voyant que ces\nd\u00e9tresses \u00e9taient maintenant soulag\u00e9es, et que je pouvais aussi gagner\nquelque chose pour ma subsistance, en travaillant, et que j'avais une si\nbonne banque pour me soutenir, pourquoi, ne cesserais-je pas maintenant,\ntandis que j'\u00e9tais bien; puisque je ne pouvais m'attendre \u00e0 rester\ntoujours libre, et qu'une fois surprise, j'\u00e9tais perdue.\nCe fut l\u00e0 sans doute l'heureuse minute o\u00f9, si j'avais \u00e9cout\u00e9 le conseil\nb\u00e9ni, quelle que f\u00fbt la main dont il venait, j'aurais trouv\u00e9 encore une\nchance de vie ais\u00e9e. Mais mon destin \u00e9tait autrement d\u00e9termin\u00e9; l'avide\nd\u00e9mon qui m'avait attir\u00e9e me tenait trop \u00e9troitement serr\u00e9e pour me\nlaisser revenir; mais ainsi que ma pauvret\u00e9 m'y avait conduite, ainsi\nl'avarice m'y fit rester, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il n'y e\u00fbt plus moyen de\nretourner en arri\u00e8re. Quant aux arguments que me dictait ma raison pour\nme persuader de renoncer, l'avarice se dressait, et disait:\n--Continue; tu as eu tr\u00e8s bonne chance; continue jusqu'\u00e0 ce que tu aies\nquatre ou cinq cents livres, et puis tu cesseras, et puis tu pourras\nvivre \u00e0 ton aise, sans jamais plus travailler.\nAinsi, moi qui avais \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9treinte jadis dans les griffes du diable, j'y\n\u00e9tais retenue comme par un charme, et je n'avais point de pouvoir pour\nfranchir l'enceinte du cercle, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je fus engloutie dans des\nlabyrinthes d'embarras trop grands pour que je pusse en sortir.\nCependant ces pens\u00e9es me laiss\u00e8rent quelque impression, et me firent\nagir avec un peu plus de prudence qu'avant, et je prenais plus de\npr\u00e9cautions que mes directrices pour elles-m\u00eames. Ma camarade, comme je\nla nommai (j'aurais d\u00fb l'appeler ma ma\u00eetresse), avec une autre de ses\n\u00e9l\u00e8ves, fut la premi\u00e8re qui tomba dans le malheur; car, se trouvant en\nqu\u00eate de gain, elles firent une tentative sur un marchand de toiles dans\nCheapside, mais furent gripp\u00e9es par un compagnon aux yeux per\u00e7ants, et\nsaisies avec deux pi\u00e8ces de batiste, qu'on trouva sur elles.\nC'en \u00e9tait assez pour les loger toutes deux \u00e0 Newgate o\u00f9 elles eurent le\nmalheur qu'on rappel\u00e2t \u00e0 leur souvenir quelques-uns de leurs m\u00e9faits\npass\u00e9s: deux autres accusations \u00e9tant port\u00e9es contre elles, et les faits\n\u00e9tant prouv\u00e9s, elles furent toutes deux condamn\u00e9es \u00e0 mort; toutes deux\nplaid\u00e8rent leurs ventres et toutes deux furent d\u00e9clar\u00e9es grosses,\nquoique mon institutrice ne f\u00fbt pas plus grosse que je ne l'\u00e9tais\nmoi-m\u00eame.\nJ'allai souvent les voir et les consoler, attendant mon tour \u00e0 la\nprochaine; mais ce lieu m'inspirait tant d'horreur quand je\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais que c'\u00e9tait le lieu de ma naissance malheureuse et des\ninfortunes de ma m\u00e8re, que je ne pus le supporter davantage et que je\ncessai mes visites.\nEt oh! si j'avais pu \u00eatre avertie par leurs d\u00e9sastres, j'aurais pu \u00eatre\nheureuse encore, car jusque-l\u00e0 j'\u00e9tais libre, et aucune accusation\nn'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 port\u00e9e contre moi; mais voil\u00e0 qui ne pouvait \u00eatre; ma mesure\nn'\u00e9tait pas encore pleine.\nMa camarade, portant la marque d'une ancienne r\u00e9prouv\u00e9e, fut ex\u00e9cut\u00e9e;\nla jeune criminelle eut gr\u00e2ce de la vie, ayant obtenu un sursis; mais\nresta de longs jours \u00e0 souffrir de la faim dans sa prison, jusqu'enfin\nelle fit mettre son nom dans ce qu'on appelle une lettre de r\u00e9mission et\nainsi \u00e9chappa.\nCe terrible exemple de ma camarade me frappa de frayeur au coeur; et\npendant un bon temps je ne fis point d'excursions. Mais une nuit, dans\nle voisinage de la maison de ma gouvernante, on cria: Au feu! Ma\ngouvernante se mit \u00e0 la fen\u00eatre, car nous \u00e9tions toutes lev\u00e9es, et cria\nimm\u00e9diatement que la maison de Mme Une telle \u00e9tait toute en feu,\nflambant par le haut, ce qui \u00e9tait la v\u00e9rit\u00e9. Ici elle me poussa du\ncoude.\n--Vite, mon enfant, dit-elle; voici une excellente occasion; le feu est\nsi pr\u00e8s que vous pouvez y aller devant que la rue soit barr\u00e9e par la\nfoule.\nPuis elle me donna mon r\u00f4le:\n--Allez, mon enfant, \u00e0 la maison; courez et dites \u00e0 la dame ou \u00e0\nquiconque vous verrez que vous \u00eates venue pour leur aider, et que vous\nvenez de chez Mme Une telle, c'est \u00e0 savoir une personne qu'elle\nconnaissait plus loin dans la rue.\nMe voil\u00e0 partie, et arrivant \u00e0 la maison, je trouvai tout le monde dans\nla confusion, comme bien vous pensez; j'entrai toute courante, et\ntrouvant une des servantes:\n--H\u00e9las! mon doux coeur, m'\u00e9criai-je, comment donc est arriv\u00e9 ce triste\naccident? O\u00f9 est votre ma\u00eetresse? Est-elle en s\u00fbret\u00e9? Et o\u00f9 sont les\nenfants? Je viens de chez Mme *** pour vous aider.\nVoil\u00e0 la fille qui court.\n--Madame, madame, cria-t-elle aussi haut qu'elle put hurler, voil\u00e0 une\ndame qui arrive de chez Mme *** pour nous aider.\nLa pauvre dame, \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 hors du sens, avec un paquet sous son bras et\ndeux petits enfants vient vers moi:\n--Madame, dis-je, souffrez que j'emm\u00e8ne ces pauvres petits chez\nMme ***; elle vous fait prier de les lui envoyer; elle prendra soin\ndes pauvres agneaux.\nSur quoi j'en prends un qu'elle tenait par la main, et elle me met\nl'autre dans les bras.\n--Oh oui! oui! pour l'amour de Dieu, dit-elle, emportez-les! Oh!\nremerciez-la bien de sa bont\u00e9!\n--N'avez-vous point autre chose \u00e0 mettre en s\u00fbret\u00e9, madame? dis-je; elle\nle gardera avec soin.\n--Oh! Seigneur! dit-elle, Dieu la b\u00e9nisse! Prenez ce paquet d'argenterie\net emportez-le chez elle aussi. Oh! c'est une bonne femme! Oh! nous\nsommes enti\u00e8rement ruin\u00e9s, perdus!\nEt voil\u00e0 qu'elle me quitte, se pr\u00e9cipitant tout \u00e9gar\u00e9e, et les servantes\n\u00e0 sa suite, et me voil\u00e0 partie avec les deux enfants et le paquet.\n\u00c0 peine \u00e9tais-je dans la rue que je vis une autre femme venir \u00e0 moi:\n--H\u00e9las! ma\u00eetresse, dit-elle d'un ton piteux, vous allez laisser tomber\ncet enfant; allons, allons, voil\u00e0 un triste temps, souffrez que je vous\naide.\nEt imm\u00e9diatement elle met la main sur mon paquet afin de le porter pour\nmoi.\n--Non, dis-je, si vous voulez m'aider, prenez l'enfant par la main,\naidez-moi \u00e0 le conduire seulement jusqu'au haut de la rue; j'irai avec\nvous et je vous payerai pour la peine.\nElle ne put mais que d'aller, apr\u00e8s ce que j'avais dit, mais la\ncr\u00e9ature, en somme, \u00e9tait du m\u00eame m\u00e9tier que moi, et ne voulait rien que\nle paquet; pourtant elle vint avec moi jusqu'\u00e0 la porte, car elle ne put\nfaire autrement. Quand nous f\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s l\u00e0, je lui dis \u00e0 l'oreille:\n--Va, mon enfant, lui dis-je, je connais ton m\u00e9tier, tu peux rencontrer\nassez d'autres affaires.\nElle me comprit, et s'en alla; je tambourinai \u00e0 la porte avec les\nenfants, et comme les gens de la maison s'\u00e9taient lev\u00e9s d\u00e9j\u00e0 au tumulte\nde l'incendie, on me fit bient\u00f4t entrer, et je dis:\n--Madame est-elle \u00e9veill\u00e9e? Pr\u00e9venez-la je vous prie, que Mme***\nsollicite d'elle la faveur de prendre chez elle ces deux enfants; pauvre\ndame, elle va \u00eatre perdue; leur maison est toute en flammes.\nIls firent entrer les enfants de fa\u00e7on fort civile, s'apitoy\u00e8rent sur la\nfamille dans la d\u00e9tresse, et me voil\u00e0 partie avec mon paquet. Une des\nservantes me demanda si je ne devais pas laisser le paquet aussi. Je\ndis:\n--Non, mon doux coeur, c'est pour un autre endroit; cela n'est point \u00e0\neux.\nJ'\u00e9tais \u00e0 bonne distance de la presse, maintenant; si bien que je\ncontinuai et que j'apportai le paquet d'argenterie, qui \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s\nconsid\u00e9rable, droit \u00e0 la maison, chez ma vieille gouvernante; elle me\ndit qu'elle ne voulait pas l'ouvrir, mais me pria de m'en retourner et\nd'aller en chercher d'autre.\nElle me fit jouer le m\u00eame jeu chez la dame de la maison qui touchait\ncelle qui \u00e9tait en feu, et je fis tous mes efforts pour arriver\njusque-l\u00e0; mais \u00e0 cette heure l'alarme du feu \u00e9tait si grande, tant de\npompes \u00e0 incendie en mouvement et la presse du peuple si forte dans la\nrue, que je ne pus m'approcher de la maison quoi que je fisse, si bien\nque je revins chez ma gouvernante, et montant le paquet dans ma chambre,\nje commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 l'examiner. C'est avec horreur que je dis quel tr\u00e9sor j'y\ntrouvai; il suffira de rapporter qu'outre la plus grande partie de la\nvaisselle plate de la famille, qui \u00e9tait consid\u00e9rable, je trouvai une\ncha\u00eene d'or, fa\u00e7onn\u00e9e \u00e0 l'ancienne mode, dont le fermoir \u00e9tait bris\u00e9, de\nsorte que je suppose qu'on ne s'en \u00e9tait pas servi depuis des ann\u00e9es;\nmais l'or n'en \u00e9tait pas plus mauvais: aussi un petit coffret de bagues\nde deuil, l'anneau de mariage de la dame, et quelques morceaux bris\u00e9s de\nvieux fermoirs d'or, une montre en or, et une bourse contenant environ\nla somme de 24\u00a3 en vieilles pi\u00e8ces de monnaie d'or, et diverses autres\nchoses de valeur.\nCe fut l\u00e0 le plus grand et le pire butin o\u00f9 je fus jamais m\u00eal\u00e9e; car en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 bien que, ainsi que je l'ai dit plus haut, je fusse endurcie\nmaintenant au-del\u00e0 de tout pour voir de r\u00e9flexion en d'autres cas,\ncependant je me sentis v\u00e9ritablement touch\u00e9e jusqu'\u00e0 l'\u00e2me m\u00eame, quand\nje jetai les yeux sur ce tr\u00e9sor: de penser \u00e0 la pauvre dame inconsol\u00e9e\nqui avait perdu tant d'autres choses, et qui se disait qu'au moins elle\n\u00e9tait certaine d'avoir sauv\u00e9 sa vaisselle plate et ses bijoux; combien\nelle serait surprise quand elle trouverait qu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 dup\u00e9e et\nque la personne qui avait emport\u00e9 ses enfants et ses valeurs \u00e9tait\nvenue, comme elle l'avait pr\u00e9tendu, de chez la dame dans la rue voisine,\nmais qu'on lui avait amen\u00e9 les enfants sans qu'elle en s\u00fbt rien.\nJe dis que je confesse que l'inhumanit\u00e9 de cette action m'\u00e9mut\ninfiniment et me fit adoucir \u00e0 l'exc\u00e8s, et que des larmes me mont\u00e8rent\naux yeux \u00e0 son sujet; mais malgr\u00e9 que j'eusse le sentiment qu'elle \u00e9tait\ncruelle et inhumaine, jamais je ne pus trouver dans mon coeur de faire\nla moindre restitution. Cette r\u00e9flexion s'usa et j'oubliai promptement\nles circonstances qui l'accompagnaient.\nCe ne fut pas tout; car bien que par ce coup je fusse devenue infiniment\nplus riche qu'avant, pourtant la r\u00e9solution que j'avais prise auparavant\nde quitter cet horrible m\u00e9tier quand j'aurais gagn\u00e9 un peu plus, ne\npersista point; et l'avarice eut tant de succ\u00e8s, que je n'entretins plus\nl'esp\u00e9rance d'arriver \u00e0 un durable changement de vie; quoique sans cette\nperspective je ne pusse attendre ni s\u00fbret\u00e9 ni tranquillit\u00e9 en la\npossession de ce que j'avais gagn\u00e9; encore un peu,--voil\u00e0 quel \u00e9tait le\nrefrain toujours.\n\u00c0 la fin, c\u00e9dant aux importunit\u00e9s de mon crime, je rejetai tout\nremords, et toutes les r\u00e9flexions que je fis sur ce chef ne tourn\u00e8rent\nqu'\u00e0 ceci: c'est que peut-\u00eatre je pourrais trouver un butin au prochain\ncoup qui compl\u00e9terait le tout; mais quoique certainement j'eusse obtenu\nce butin-l\u00e0, cependant chaque coup m'en faisait esp\u00e9rer un autre, et\nm'encourageait si fort \u00e0 continuer dans le m\u00e9tier, que je n'avais point\nde go\u00fbt \u00e0 le laisser l\u00e0.\nDans cette condition, endurcie par le succ\u00e8s, et r\u00e9solue \u00e0 continuer, je\ntombai dans le pi\u00e8ge o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais destin\u00e9e \u00e0 rencontrer ma derni\u00e8re\nr\u00e9compense pour ce genre de vie. Mais ceci m\u00eame n'arriva point encore,\ncar je rencontrai auparavant diverses autres aventures o\u00f9 j'eus du\nsucc\u00e8s.\nMa gouvernante fut pendant un temps r\u00e9ellement soucieuse de l'infortune\nde ma camarade qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pendue, car elle en savait assez sur ma\ngouvernante pour l'envoyer sur le m\u00eame chemin, ce qui la rendait bien\ninqui\u00e8te; en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 elle \u00e9tait dans une tr\u00e8s grande frayeur.\nIl est vrai que quand elle eut disparu sans dire ce qu'elle savait, ma\ngouvernante fut tranquille sur ce point, et peut-\u00eatre heureuse qu'elle\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 pendue; car il \u00e9tait en son pouvoir d'avoir obtenu un pardon aux\nd\u00e9pens de ses amis; mais la perte qu'elle fit d'elle, et le sentiment de\nla tendresse qu'elle avait montr\u00e9e en ne faisant pas march\u00e9 de ce\nqu'elle savait, \u00e9mut ma gouvernante \u00e0 la pleurer bien sinc\u00e8rement. Je la\nconsolai du mieux que je pus, et elle, en retour, m'endurcit \u00e0 m\u00e9riter\nplus compl\u00e8tement le m\u00eame sort.\nQuoi qu'il en soit, ainsi que j'ai dit, j'en devins d'autant plus\nprudente et en particulier je mettais beaucoup de retenue \u00e0 voler en\nboutique, sp\u00e9cialement parmi les merciers et les drapiers; c'est l\u00e0 une\nesp\u00e8ce de gaillards qui ont toujours les yeux bien ouverts. Je fis une\nou deux tentatives parmi les marchands de dentelles et de modes, et en\nparticulier dans une boutique o\u00f9 deux jeunes femmes \u00e9taient nouvellement\n\u00e9tablies sans avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9lev\u00e9es dans le m\u00e9tier; l\u00e0 j'emportai une pi\u00e8ce\nde dentelle au fuseau qui valait six on sept livres, et un papier de\nfil; mais ce ne fut qu'une fois; c'\u00e9tait un tour qui ne pouvait pas\nresservir.\nNous regardions toujours l'affaire comme un coup s\u00fbr, chaque fois que\nnous entendions parler d'une boutique nouvelle, surtout l\u00e0 o\u00f9 les gens\n\u00e9taient tels qui n'avaient point \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9lev\u00e9s \u00e0 tenir boutique; tels\npeuvent \u00eatre assur\u00e9s qu'ils recevront pendant leurs d\u00e9buts deux ou trois\nvisites; et il leur faudrait \u00eatre bien subtils, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, pour y\n\u00e9chapper.\nJ'eus une ou deux aventures apr\u00e8s celle-ci, mais qui ne furent que\nbagatelles. Rien de consid\u00e9rable ne s'offrant pendant longtemps, je\ncommen\u00e7ai de penser qu'il fallait s\u00e9rieusement renoncer au m\u00e9tier; mais\nma gouvernante qui n'avait pas envie de me perdre, et esp\u00e9rait de moi de\ngrandes choses, m'introduisit un jour dans la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 d'une jeune femme\net d'un homme qui passait pour son mari; quoiqu'il parut ensuite que ce\nn'\u00e9tait pas sa femme, mais qu'ils \u00e9taient complices tous deux dans le\nm\u00e9tier qu'ils faisaient, et en autre chose non moins. En somme ils\nvolaient ensemble, couchaient ensemble, furent pris ensemble et\nfinalement pendus ensemble.\nJ'entrai dans une esp\u00e8ce de ligue avec ces deux par l'aide de ma\ngouvernante et ils me firent prendre part \u00e0 trois ou quatre aventures,\no\u00f9 je leur vis plut\u00f4t commettre quelques vols grossiers et malhabiles,\nen quoi rien ne put leur donner le succ\u00e8s qu'un grand fonds de hardiesse\nsur leur part et d'\u00e9paisse n\u00e9gligence sur celle des personnes vol\u00e9es; de\nsorte que je r\u00e9solus dor\u00e9navant d'apporter infiniment de prudence \u00e0\nm'aventurer avec eux; et vraiment deux ou trois projets malheureux ayant\n\u00e9t\u00e9 propos\u00e9s par eux, je d\u00e9clinai l'offre, et leur persuadai d'y\nrenoncer. Une fois ils avaient particuli\u00e8rement propos\u00e9 de voler \u00e0 un\nhorloger trois montres d'or qu'ils avaient guett\u00e9es pendant la journ\u00e9e\npour trouver le lieu o\u00f9 il les serrait; l'un d'eux avait tant de clefs\nde toutes les sortes qu'il ne faisait point de doute d'ouvrir le lieu o\u00f9\nl'horloger les avait serr\u00e9es; et ainsi nous f\u00eemes une esp\u00e8ce\nd'arrangement; mais quand je vins \u00e0 examiner \u00e9troitement la chose, je\ntrouvai qu'ils se proposaient de forcer la maison, en quoi je ne voulus\npoint m'embarquer, si bien qu'ils y all\u00e8rent sans moi. Et ils\np\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e8rent dans la maison par force et firent sauter les serrures \u00e0\nl'endroit o\u00f9 \u00e9taient les montres, mais ne trouv\u00e8rent qu'une des montres\nd'or, et une d'argent, qu'ils prirent, et ressortirent de la maison, le\ntout tr\u00e8s nettement; mais la famille ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 alarm\u00e9e se mit \u00e0 crier:\nAu voleur! et l'homme fut poursuivi et pris; la jeune femme s'\u00e9tait\nenfuie aussi, mais malheureusement se fit arr\u00eater au bout d'une certaine\ndistance, et les montres furent trouv\u00e9es sur elle; et ainsi j'\u00e9chappai\nune seconde fois, car ils furent convaincus et pendus tous deux, \u00e9tant\nd\u00e9linquants anciens, quoique tr\u00e8s jeunes; et comme j'ai dit avant, ainsi\nqu'ils avaient vol\u00e9 ensemble, ainsi maintenant furent-ils pendus\nensemble, et l\u00e0 prit fin ma nouvelle association.\nJe commen\u00e7ai maintenant d'\u00eatre tr\u00e8s circonspecte, ayant \u00e9chapp\u00e9 de si\npr\u00e8s \u00e0 me faire \u00e9chauder, et avec un pareil exemple devant les yeux;\nmais j'avais une nouvelle tentatrice qui m'aiguillonnait tous les jours,\nje veux dire ma gouvernante, et maintenant se pr\u00e9senta une affaire o\u00f9,\nainsi qu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9par\u00e9e par son gouvernement, ainsi elle\nesp\u00e9rait une bonne part du butin. Il y avait une bonne quantit\u00e9 de\ndentelles de Flandres qui \u00e9tait log\u00e9e dans une maison priv\u00e9e o\u00f9 elle en\navait ou\u00ef parler; et la dentelle de Flandres \u00e9tant prohib\u00e9e, c'\u00e9tait de\nbonne prise pour tout commis de la douane qui la pourrait d\u00e9couvrir;\nj'avais l\u00e0-dessus un plein rapport de ma gouvernante, autant sur la\nquantit\u00e9 que sur le lieu m\u00eame de la cachette. J'allai donc trouver un\ncommis de la douane et lui dis que j'avais \u00e0 lui faire une r\u00e9v\u00e9lation, \u00e0\ncondition qu'il m'assur\u00e2t que j'aurais ma juste part de la r\u00e9compense.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une offre si \u00e9quitable que rien ne pouvait \u00eatre plus honn\u00eate;\nil s'y accorda donc, et emmenant un commissaire, et moi avec lui, nous\noccup\u00e2mes la maison. Comme je lui avais dit que je saurais aller tout\ndroit \u00e0 la cachette, il m'en abandonna le soin; et le trou \u00e9tant tr\u00e8s\nnoir, je m'y glissai avec beaucoup de peine, une chandelle \u00e0 la main, et\nainsi lui passai les pi\u00e8ces de dentelles, prenant garde, \u00e0 mesure que je\nles lui donnais, d'en dissimuler sur ma personne autant que j'en pus\ncommod\u00e9ment emporter. Il y avait en tout environ la valeur de 300\u00a3 de\ndentelles; et j'en cachai moi-m\u00eame environ la valeur de 50\u00a3. Ces\ndentelles n'appartenaient point aux gens de la maison, mais \u00e0 un\nmarchand qui les avait plac\u00e9es en d\u00e9p\u00f4t chez eux; de sorte qu'ils ne\nfurent pas si surpris que j'imaginais qu'ils le seraient.\nJe laissai le commis ravi de sa prise et pleinement satisfait de ce que\nje lui avais remis, et m'accordai \u00e0 venir le trouver dans une maison\nqu'il dirigeait lui-m\u00eame, o\u00f9 je le joignis apr\u00e8s avoir dispos\u00e9 du butin\nque j'avais sur moi, dont il n'eut pas le moindre soup\u00e7on. Sit\u00f4t que\nj'arrivai, il commen\u00e7a de capituler, persuad\u00e9 que je ne connaissais\npoint le droit que j'avais dans la prise, et m'e\u00fbt volontiers cong\u00e9di\u00e9e\navec 20\u00a3, mais je lui fis voir que je n'\u00e9tais pas si ignorante qu'il le\nsupposait; et pourtant j'\u00e9tais fort aise qu'il propos\u00e2t au moins un prix\nfixe. Je demandai 100\u00a3, et il monta \u00e0 30\u00a3; je tombai \u00e0 80\u00a3; et de\nnouveau il monta jusqu'\u00e0 40\u00a3; en un mot il offrit 50\u00a3 et je consentis,\ndemandant seulement une pi\u00e8ce de dentelle, qui, je pense, \u00e9tait de 8 ou\n9\u00a3, comme si c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 pour la porter moi-m\u00eame, et il s'y accorda. De\nsorte que les 50\u00a3 en bon argent me furent pay\u00e9es cette nuit m\u00eame, et le\npayement mit fin \u00e0 notre march\u00e9; il ne sut d'ailleurs qui j'\u00e9tais ni o\u00f9\nil pourrait s'enqu\u00e9rir de moi; si bien qu'au cas o\u00f9 on e\u00fbt d\u00e9couvert\nqu'une partie des marchandises avait \u00e9t\u00e9 escroqu\u00e9e, il n'e\u00fbt pu m'en\ndemander compte.\nJe partageai fort ponctuellement ces d\u00e9pouilles avec ma gouvernante et\nelle me regarda depuis ce moment comme une rou\u00e9e fort habile en des\naffaires d\u00e9licates. Je trouvai que cette derni\u00e8re op\u00e9ration \u00e9tait du\ntravail le meilleur et le plus ais\u00e9 qui f\u00fbt \u00e0 ma port\u00e9e, et je fis mon\nm\u00e9tier de m'enqu\u00e9rir des marchandises prohib\u00e9es; et apr\u00e8s \u00eatre all\u00e9e en\nacheter, d'ordinaire je les d\u00e9non\u00e7ais; mais aucune de ces d\u00e9couvertes ne\nmonta \u00e0 rien de consid\u00e9rable ni de pareil \u00e0 ce que je viens de\nrapporter; mais j'\u00e9tais circonspecte \u00e0 courir les grands risques\nauxquels je voyais d'autres s'exposer, et o\u00f9 ils se ruinaient tous les\njours.\nLa prochaine affaire d'importance fut une tentative sur la montre en or\nd'une dame. La chose survint dans une presse, \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e d'une \u00e9glise,\no\u00f9 je fus en fort grand danger de me faire prendre; je tenais sa montre\ntout \u00e0 plein; mais, donnant une grosse bousculade comme si quelqu'un\nm'e\u00fbt pouss\u00e9e sur elle, et entre temps ayant bellement tir\u00e9 sur la\nmontre, je trouvai qu'elle ne venait pas \u00e0 moi; je la l\u00e2chai donc\nsur-le-champ, et me mis \u00e0 crier comme si on allait me tuer, qu'un homme\nvenait de me marcher sur le pied, et qu'il y avait certainement l\u00e0 des\nfilous, puisque quelqu'un ou d'autre venait de tirer sur ma montre: car\nvous devez observer qu'en ces aventures nous allions toujours fort bien\nv\u00eatues et je portais de tr\u00e8s bons habits, avec une montre d'or au c\u00f4t\u00e9,\nsemblant autant d'une dame que d'autres.\n\u00c0 peine avais-je parl\u00e9 que l'autre dame se mit \u00e0 crier aussi: \u00abAu\nvoleur\u00bb, car on venait, dit-elle, d'essayer de d\u00e9crocher sa montre.\nQuand j'avais touch\u00e9 sa montre, j'\u00e9tais tout pr\u00e8s d'elle, mais quand je\nm'\u00e9criai, je m'arr\u00eatai pour ainsi dire court, et la foule l'entra\u00eenant\nun peu en avant, elle fit du bruit aussi, mais ce fut \u00e0 quelque distance\nde moi, si bien qu'elle ne me soup\u00e7onna pas le moins du monde; mais\nquand elle cria \u00abau voleur\u00bb, quelqu'un s'\u00e9cria: \u00abOui-d\u00e0, et il y en a un\nautre par ici, on vient d'essayer de voler madame.\u00bb\nDans ce m\u00eame instant, un peu plus loin dans la foule, et \u00e0 mon grand\nbonheur, on cria encore: \u00abAu voleur!\u00bb et vraiment on prit un jeune homme\nsur le fait. Ceci, bien qu'infortun\u00e9 pour le mis\u00e9rable, arriva fort \u00e0\npoint pour mon cas, malgr\u00e9 que j'eusse bravement port\u00e9 jusque-l\u00e0 mon\nassurance; mais maintenant il n'y avait plus de doute, et toute la\npartie flottante de la foule se porta par l\u00e0, et le pauvre gar\u00e7on fut\nlivr\u00e9 \u00e0 la fureur de la rue, qui est une cruaut\u00e9 que je n'ai point\nbesoin de d\u00e9crire, et que pourtant ils pr\u00e9f\u00e8rent toujours \u00e0 \u00eatre envoy\u00e9s\n\u00e0 Newgate o\u00f9 ils demeurent souvent longtemps, et parfois sont pendus, et\nle mieux qu'ils puissent y attendre, s'ils sont convaincus, c'est d'\u00eatre\nd\u00e9port\u00e9s.\nAinsi j'\u00e9chappai de bien pr\u00e8s, et je fus si effray\u00e9e que je ne\nm'attaquai plus aux montres d'or pendant un bon moment.\nCependant ma gouvernante me conduisait dans tous les d\u00e9tails de la\nmauvaise vie que je menais maintenant, comme si ce f\u00fbt par la main, et\nme donnait de telles instructions, et je les suivais si bien que je\ndevins la plus grande artiste de mon temps; et je me tirais de tous les\ndangers avec une si subtile dext\u00e9rit\u00e9, que tandis que plusieurs de mes\ncamarades se firent enfermer \u00e0 Newgate, dans le temps qu'elles avaient\npratiqu\u00e9 le m\u00e9tier depuis une demi-ann\u00e9e, je le pratiquais maintenant\ndepuis plus de cinq ans et les gens de Newgate ne faisaient pas tant que\nme conna\u00eetre; ils avaient beaucoup entendu parler de moi, il est vrai,\net m'attendaient bien souvent mais je m'\u00e9tais toujours \u00e9chapp\u00e9e, quoique\nbien des fois dans le plus extr\u00eame danger.\nUn des plus grands dangers o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais maintenant, c'est que j'\u00e9tais trop\nconnue dans le m\u00e9tier; et quelques-unes de celles dont la haine \u00e9tait\ndue plut\u00f4t \u00e0 l'envie qu'\u00e0 aucune injure que je leur eusse faite,\ncommenc\u00e8rent de se f\u00e2cher que j'\u00e9chappasse toujours quand elles se\nfaisaient toujours prendre et emporter \u00e0 Newgate. Ce furent elles qui me\ndonn\u00e8rent le nom de Moll Flanders, car il n'avait pas plus d'affinit\u00e9\navec mon v\u00e9ritable nom ou avec aucun des noms sous lesquels j'avais\npass\u00e9 que le noir n'a de parent\u00e9 avec le blanc, sinon qu'une fois, ainsi\nque je l'ai dit, je m'\u00e9tais fait appeler Mme Flanders quand je m'\u00e9tais\nr\u00e9fugi\u00e9e \u00e0 la Monnaie; mais c'est ce que ces coquines ne surent jamais,\net je ne pus pas apprendre davantage comment elles vinrent \u00e0 me donner\nce nom, ou \u00e0 quelle occasion.\nJe fus bient\u00f4t inform\u00e9e que quelques-unes de celles qui s'\u00e9taient fait\nemprisonner dans Newgate avaient jur\u00e9 de me d\u00e9noncer; et comme je savais\nque deux ou trois d'entre elles n'en \u00e9taient que trop capables, je fus\ndans un grand souci et je restai enferm\u00e9e pendant un bon temps; mais ma\ngouvernante qui \u00e9tait associ\u00e9e \u00e0 mon succ\u00e8s, et qui maintenant jouait \u00e0\ncoup s\u00fbr, puisqu'elle n'avait point de part \u00e0 mes risques, ma\ngouvernante, dis-je, montra quelque impatience de me voir mener une vie\nsi inutile et si peu profitable, comme elle disait; et elle imagina une\nnouvelle invention pour me permettre de sortir, qui fut de me v\u00eatir\nd'habits d'homme, et de me faire entrer ainsi dans une profession\nnouvelle.\nJ'\u00e9tais grande et bien faite, mais la figure un peu trop lisse pour un\nhomme; pourtant, comme je sortais rarement avant la nuit, ce ne fut pas\ntrop mal; mais je mis longtemps \u00e0 apprendre \u00e0 me tenir dans mes nouveaux\nhabits; il \u00e9tait impossible d'\u00eatre aussi agile, pr\u00eate \u00e0 point, et\nadroite en toutes ces choses, dans des v\u00eatements contraires \u00e0 la nature;\net ainsi que je faisais tout avec gaucherie, ainsi n'avais-je ni le\nsucc\u00e8s ni la facilit\u00e9 d'\u00e9chapper que j'avais eus auparavant, et je\nr\u00e9solus d'abandonner cette m\u00e9thode: mais ma r\u00e9solution fut confirm\u00e9e\nbient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s par l'accident suivant.\nAinsi que ma gouvernante m'avait d\u00e9guis\u00e9e en homme, ainsi me\njoignit-elle \u00e0 un homme, jeune gar\u00e7on assez expert en son affaire, et\npendant trois semaines nous nous entend\u00eemes fort bien ensemble. Notre\nprincipale occupation \u00e9tait de guetter les comptoirs dans les boutiques\net d'escamoter n'importe quelle marchandise qu'on avait laiss\u00e9 tra\u00eener\npar n\u00e9gligence, et dans ce genre de travail nous f\u00eemes plusieurs bonnes\naffaires, comme nous disions. Et comme nous \u00e9tions toujours ensemble,\nnous dev\u00eenmes fort intimes; pourtant il ne sut jamais que je n'\u00e9tais pas\nun homme; non, quoique \u00e0 plusieurs reprises je fusse rentr\u00e9e avec lui\ndans son logement, suivant les besoins de nos affaires, et que j'eusse\ncouch\u00e9 avec lui quatre ou cinq fois pendant toute la nuit; mais notre\ndessein \u00e9tait ailleurs, et il \u00e9tait absolument n\u00e9cessaire pour moi de\nlui cacher mon sexe, ainsi qu'il parut plus tard. D'ailleurs les\nconditions de notre vie, o\u00f9 nous entrions tard, et o\u00f9 nous avions des\naffaires qui exigeaient que personne ne p\u00fbt entrer dans notre logement,\n\u00e9taient telles qu'il m'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible de refuser de coucher avec\nlui, \u00e0 moins de lui r\u00e9v\u00e9ler mon sexe; mais, comme il est, je parvins \u00e0\nme dissimuler effectivement.\nMais sa mauvaise et ma bonne fortune mirent bient\u00f4t fin \u00e0 cette vie,\ndont il faut l'avouer, j'\u00e9tais lasse aussi. Nous avions fait plusieurs\nbelles prises en ce nouveau genre de m\u00e9tier; mais la derni\u00e8re aurait \u00e9t\u00e9\nextraordinaire.\nIl y avait une boutique dans une certaine rue, dont le magasin, qui\n\u00e9tait derri\u00e8re, donnait dans une autre rue, la maison faisant le coin.\nPar la fen\u00eatre du magasin, nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes sur le comptoir ou \u00e9tal qui\n\u00e9tait juste devant cinq pi\u00e8ces de soie, avec d'autres \u00e9toffes; et\nquoiqu'il f\u00eet presque sombre, pourtant les gens \u00e9tant occup\u00e9s dans le\ndevant de la boutique n'avaient pas eu le temps de fermer ces fen\u00eatres\nou bien l'avaient oubli\u00e9.\nL\u00e0-dessus le jeune homme fut si ravi par la joie qu'il ne put se\nretenir; tout cela \u00e9tait, disait-il, \u00e0 sa port\u00e9e; et il m'affirma sous\nde violents jurons qu'il l'aurait, d\u00fbt-il forcer la maison; je l'en\ndissuadai un peu, mais vis qu'il n'y avait point de rem\u00e8de; si bien\nqu'il s'y pr\u00e9cipita \u00e0 la h\u00e2te, fit glisser avec assez d'adresse un des\ncarreaux de la fen\u00eatre \u00e0 ch\u00e2ssis, prit quatre pi\u00e8ces de soie, et revint\njusqu'\u00e0 moi en les tenant, mais fut imm\u00e9diatement poursuivi par une\nterrible foule en tumulte; nous \u00e9tions debout l'un \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'autre, en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, mais je n'avais pris aucun des objets qu'il portait \u00e0 la main,\nquand je lui soufflai rapidement:\n--Tu es perdu!\nIl courut comme l'\u00e9clair, et moi de m\u00eame; mais la poursuite \u00e9tait plus\nardente contre lui parce qu'il emportait les marchandises; il laissa\ntomber deux des pi\u00e8ces de soie, ce qui les arr\u00eata un instant; mais la\nfoule augmenta et nous poursuivit tous deux, ils le prirent bient\u00f4t\napr\u00e8s avec les deux pi\u00e8ces qu'il tenait, et puis les autres me\nsuivirent. Je courus de toutes mes forces et arrivai jusqu'\u00e0 la maison\nde ma gouvernante o\u00f9 quelques gens aux yeux ac\u00e9r\u00e9s me suivirent si\nchaudement qu'ils m'y bloqu\u00e8rent: ils ne frapp\u00e8rent pas aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 la\nporte, ce qui me donna le temps de rejeter mon d\u00e9guisement, et de me\nv\u00eatir de mes propres habits; d'ailleurs, quand ils y arriv\u00e8rent, ma\ngouvernante, qui avait son conte tout pr\u00eat, tint sa porte ferm\u00e9e, et\nleur cria qu'aucun homme n'\u00e9tait entr\u00e9 chez elle; la foule affirma qu'on\navait vu entrer un homme et mena\u00e7a d'enfoncer la porte.\nMa gouvernante, point du tout surprise, leur r\u00e9pondit avec placidit\u00e9,\nleur assura qu'ils pourraient entrer fort librement et fouiller sa\nmaison, s'ils voulaient mener avec eux un commissaire, et ne laisser\nentrer que tels que le commissaire admettrait, \u00e9tant d\u00e9raisonnable de\nlaisser entrer toute une foule; c'est ce qu'ils ne purent refuser,\nquoique ce f\u00fbt une foule. On alla donc chercher un commissaire\nsur-le-champ; et elle fort librement ouvrit la porte; le commissaire\nsurveilla la porte et les hommes qu'il avait appoint\u00e9s fouill\u00e8rent la\nmaison, ma gouvernante allant avec eux de chambre en chambre. Quand elle\nvint \u00e0 ma chambre, elle m'appela, et cria \u00e0 haute voix:\n--Ma cousine, je vous prie d'ouvrir votre porte; ce sont des messieurs\nqui sont oblig\u00e9s d'entrer afin d'examiner votre chambre.\nJ'avais avec moi une enfant, qui \u00e9tait la petite-fille de ma\ngouvernante, comme elle l'appelait; et je la priai d'ouvrir la porte; et\nj'\u00e9tais l\u00e0, assise au travail, avec un grand fouillis d'affaires autour\nde moi, comme si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 au travail toute la journ\u00e9e, d\u00e9v\u00eatue et\nn'ayant que du linge de nuit sur la t\u00eate et une robe de chambre tr\u00e8s\nl\u00e2che; ma gouvernante me fit une mani\u00e8re d'excuse pour le d\u00e9rangement\nqu'on me donnait, et m'en expliqua en partie l'occasion, et qu'elle n'y\nvoyait d'autre rem\u00e8de que de leur ouvrir les portes et de leur permettre\nde se satisfaire, puisque tout ce qu'elle avait pu leur dire n'y avait\npoint suffi. Je restai tranquillement assise et les priai de chercher\ntant qu'il leur plairait; car s'il y avait personne dans la maison,\nj'\u00e9tais certaine que ce n'\u00e9tait point dans ma chambre; et pour le reste\nde la maison, je n'avais point \u00e0 y contredire, ne sachant nullement de\nquoi ils \u00e9taient en qu\u00eate.\nTout autour de moi avait l'apparence si innocente et si honn\u00eate qu'ils\nme trait\u00e8rent avec plus de civilit\u00e9 que je n'attendais, mais ce ne fut\nqu'apr\u00e8s avoir minutieusement fouill\u00e9 la chambre jusque sous le lit,\ndans le lit, et partout ailleurs o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait possible de cacher quoi que\nce f\u00fbt; quand ils eurent fini, sans avoir pu rien trouver, ils me\ndemand\u00e8rent pardon et redescendirent l'escalier.\nQuand ils eurent eu ainsi fouill\u00e9 la maison de la cave au grenier, et\npuis du grenier \u00e0 la cave, sans avoir pu rien trouver, ils apais\u00e8rent\nassez bien la populace; mais ils emmen\u00e8rent ma gouvernante devant la\njustice; deux hommes jur\u00e8rent qu'ils avaient vu l'homme qu'ils\npoursuivaient entrer dans sa maison; ma gouvernante s'enleva dans ses\nparoles et fit grand bruit sur ce qu'on insultait sa maison et qu'on la\ntraitait ainsi pour rien; que si un homme \u00e9tait entr\u00e9, il pourrait bien\nen ressortir tout \u00e0 l'heure, pour autant qu'elle en s\u00fbt, car elle \u00e9tait\npr\u00eate \u00e0 faire serment qu'aucun homme \u00e0 sa connaissance n'avait pass\u00e9 sa\nporte de tout le jour, ce qui \u00e9tait fort v\u00e9ritable; qu'il se pouvait\nbien que tandis qu'elle \u00e9tait en haut quelque individu effray\u00e9 e\u00fbt pu\ntrouver la porte ouverte et s'y pr\u00e9cipiter pour chercher abri s'il \u00e9tait\npoursuivi, mais qu'elle n'en savait rien; et s'il en avait \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi, il\n\u00e9tait certainement ressorti, peut-\u00eatre par l'autre porte, car elle avait\nune autre porte donnant dans une all\u00e9e, et qu'ainsi il s'\u00e9tait \u00e9chapp\u00e9.\nTout cela \u00e9tait vraiment assez probable; et le juge se contenta de lui\nfaire pr\u00eater le serment qu'elle n'avait point re\u00e7u ou admis d'homme en\nsa maison dans le but de le cacher, prot\u00e9ger, ou soustraire \u00e0 la\njustice; serment qu'elle pouvait pr\u00eater de bonne foi, ce qu'aussi bien\nelle fit, et ainsi fut cong\u00e9di\u00e9e.\nIl est ais\u00e9 de juger dans quelle frayeur je fus \u00e0 cette occasion, et il\nfut impossible \u00e0 ma gouvernante de jamais m'amener \u00e0 me d\u00e9guiser de\nnouveau; en effet, lui disais-je, j'\u00e9tais certaine de me trahir.\nMon pauvre complice en cette m\u00e9saventure \u00e9tait maintenant dans un\nmauvais cas; il fut emmen\u00e9 devant le Lord-Maire et par Sa Seigneurie\nenvoy\u00e9 \u00e0 Newgate, et les gens qui l'avaient pris \u00e9taient tellement\nd\u00e9sireux, autant que possible, de le poursuivre, qu'ils s'offrirent \u00e0\nassister le jury en paraissant \u00e0 la session afin de soutenir la charge\ncontre lui.\nPourtant il obtint un sursis d'accusation, sur promesse de r\u00e9v\u00e9ler ses\ncomplices, et en particulier l'homme avec lequel il avait commis ce vol;\net il ne manqua pas d'y porter tous ses efforts, car il donna mon nom,\nqu'il dit \u00eatre Gabriel Spencer, qui \u00e9tait le nom sous lequel je passais\naupr\u00e8s de lui; et voil\u00e0 o\u00f9 para\u00eet la prudence que j'eus en me cachant de\nlui, sans quoi j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 perdue.\nIl fit tout ce qu'il put pour d\u00e9couvrir ce Gabriel Spencer; il le\nd\u00e9crivit; il r\u00e9v\u00e9la l'endroit o\u00f9 il dit que je logeais; et, en un mot,\ntous les d\u00e9tails qu'il fut possible sur mon habitation; mais lui ayant\ndissimul\u00e9 la principale circonstance, c'est-\u00e0-dire mon sexe, j'avais un\nvaste avantage, et il ne put arriver \u00e0 moi; il mit dans la peine deux ou\ntrois familles par ses efforts pour me retrouver; mais on n'y savait\nrien de moi, sinon qu'il avait eu un camarade, qu'on avait vu, mais sur\nlequel on ne savait rien; et quant \u00e0 ma gouvernante, bien qu'elle e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 l'interm\u00e9diaire qui nous fit rencontrer, pourtant la chose avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nfaite de seconde main, et il ne savait rien d'elle non plus.\nCeci tourna \u00e0 son d\u00e9savantage, car ayant fait la promesse de d\u00e9couvertes\nsans pouvoir la tenir, on consid\u00e9ra qu'il avait bern\u00e9 la justice, et il\nfut plus f\u00e9rocement poursuivi par le boutiquier.\nJ'\u00e9tais toutefois affreusement inqui\u00e8te pendant tout ce temps, et afin\nd'\u00eatre tout \u00e0 fait hors de danger, je quittai ma gouvernante pour le\nmoment, mais ne sachant o\u00f9 aller, j'emmenai une fille de service, et je\npris le coche pour Dunstable o\u00f9 j'allai voir mon ancien h\u00f4te et mon\nh\u00f4tesse, \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 j'avais si bravement v\u00e9cu avec mon mari du\nLancashire; l\u00e0 je lui contai une histoire affect\u00e9e, que j'attendais tous\nles jours mon mari qui revenait d'Irlande, et que je lui avais envoy\u00e9\nune lettre pour lui faire savoir que je le joindrais \u00e0 Dunstable dans\nson h\u00f4tellerie, et qu'il d\u00e9barquerait certainement, s'il avait bon vent,\nd'ici peu de jours; de sorte que j'\u00e9tais venue passer quelques jours\navec eux en attendant son arriv\u00e9e; car il viendrait ou bien par la poste\nou bien par le coche de West-Chester, je ne savais pas au juste; mais\nquoi que ce f\u00fbt, il \u00e9tait certain qu'il descendrait dans cette maison\nafin de me joindre.\nMon h\u00f4tesse fut extr\u00eamement heureuse de me voir, et mon h\u00f4te fit un tel\nremue-m\u00e9nage que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 une princesse je n'eusse pu \u00eatre mieux\nre\u00e7ue, et on m'aurait volontiers gard\u00e9e un mois ou deux si je l'avais\ncru bon.\nMais mon affaire \u00e9tait d'autre nature; j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s inqui\u00e8te (quoique si\nbien d\u00e9guis\u00e9e qu'il \u00e9tait \u00e0 peine possible de me d\u00e9couvrir) et je\ncraignais que cet homme me trouv\u00e2t et malgr\u00e9 qu'il ne p\u00fbt m'accuser de\nson vol, lui ayant persuad\u00e9 de ne point s'y aventurer, et ne m'y \u00e9tant\npoint m\u00eal\u00e9e moi-m\u00eame, pourtant il e\u00fbt pu me charger d'autres choses, et\nacheter sa propre vie aux d\u00e9pens de la mienne.\nCeci m'emplissait d'horribles appr\u00e9hensions; je n'avais ni ressource, ni\namie, ni confidente que ma vieille gouvernante, et je ne voyais d'autre\nrem\u00e8de que de remettre ma vie entre ses mains; et c'est ce que je fis,\ncar je lui fis savoir mon adresse et je re\u00e7us plusieurs lettres d'elle\npendant mon s\u00e9jour. Quelques-unes me jet\u00e8rent presque hors du sens, \u00e0\nforce d'effroi; mais \u00e0 la fin elle m'envoya la joyeuse nouvelle qu'il\n\u00e9tait pendu, qui \u00e9tait la meilleure nouvelle pour moi que j'eusse\napprise depuis longtemps.\nJ'\u00e9tais rest\u00e9e l\u00e0 cinq semaines et j'avais v\u00e9cu en grand confort\nvraiment, si j'excepte la secr\u00e8te anxi\u00e9t\u00e9 de mon esprit; mais quand je\nre\u00e7us cette lettre, je repris ma mine agr\u00e9able, et dis \u00e0 mon h\u00f4tesse que\nje venais de recevoir une lettre de mon \u00e9poux d'Irlande, que j'avais\nd'excellentes nouvelles de sa sant\u00e9, mais la mauvaise nouvelle que ses\naffaires ne lui permettaient pas de partir si t\u00f4t qu'il l'e\u00fbt esp\u00e9r\u00e9, si\nbien qu'il \u00e9tait probable que j'allais rentrer sans lui.\nMon h\u00f4tesse, cependant, me f\u00e9licita des bonnes nouvelles, et que je\nfusse rassur\u00e9e sur sa sant\u00e9:\n--Car j'ai remarqu\u00e9, madame, dit-elle, que vous n'aviez pas l'air si\ngaie que d'ordinaire; par ma foi, vous deviez \u00eatre tout enfonc\u00e9e dans\nvotre souci, dit la bonne femme; on voit bien que vous \u00eates toute\nchang\u00e9e, et voil\u00e0 votre bonne humeur revenue, dit-elle.\n--Allons, allons, je suis f\u00e2ch\u00e9 que monsieur n'arrive pas encore, dit\nmon h\u00f4te; cela m'aurait r\u00e9joui le coeur de le voir; quand vous serez\nassur\u00e9e de sa venue, faites un saut jusqu'ici, madame, vous serez tr\u00e8s\nfort la bienvenue toutes les fois qu'il vous plaira.\nSur tous ces beaux compliments nous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes, et je revins assez\njoyeuse \u00e0 Londres, o\u00f9 je trouvai ma gouvernante charm\u00e9e tout autant que\nje l'\u00e9tais moi-m\u00eame. Et maintenant elle me dit qu'elle ne me\nrecommanderait plus jamais d'associ\u00e9; car elle voyait bien, dit-elle,\nque ma chance \u00e9tait meilleure quand je m'aventurais toute seule. Et\nc'\u00e9tait la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, car je tombais rarement en quelque danger quand\nj'\u00e9tais seule, ou, si j'y tombais, je m'en tirais avec plus de dext\u00e9rit\u00e9\nque lorsque j'\u00e9tais embrouill\u00e9e dans les sottes mesures d'autres\npersonnes qui avaient peut-\u00eatre moins de pr\u00e9voyance que moi, et qui\n\u00e9taient plus impatientes; car malgr\u00e9 que j'eusse autant de courage \u00e0 me\nrisquer qu'aucune d'elles, pourtant j'usais de plus de prudence avant de\nrien entreprendre, et j'avais plus de pr\u00e9sence d'esprit pour m'\u00e9chapper.\nJe me suis souvent \u00e9tonn\u00e9e m\u00eamement sur mon propre endurcissement en une\nautre fa\u00e7on, que regardant comment tous mes compagnons se faisaient\nsurprendre et tombaient si soudainement dans les mains de la justice,\npourtant je ne pouvais en aucun temps entrer dans la s\u00e9rieuse r\u00e9solution\nde cesser ce m\u00e9tier; d'autant qu'il faut consid\u00e9rer que j'\u00e9tais\nmaintenant tr\u00e8s loin d'\u00eatre pauvre, que la tentation de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 qui\nest la g\u00e9n\u00e9rale introduction de cette esp\u00e8ce de vice m'\u00e9tait maintenant\n\u00f4t\u00e9e, que j'avais pr\u00e8s de 500\u00a3 sous la main en argent liquide, de quoi\nj'eusse pu vivre tr\u00e8s bien si j'eusse cru bon de me retirer; mais\ndis-je, je n'avais pas tant que jadis, quand je n'avais que 200\u00a3\nd'\u00e9pargne, et point de spectacles aussi effrayants devant les yeux.\nJ'eus cependant une camarade dont le sort me toucha de pr\u00e8s pendant un\nbon moment, malgr\u00e9 que mon impression s'effa\u00e7\u00e2t aussi \u00e0 la longue. Ce\nfut un cas vraiment d'infortune. J'avais mis la main sur une pi\u00e8ce de\ntr\u00e8s beau damas dans la boutique d'un mercier d'o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais sortie toute\nnette; car j'avais gliss\u00e9 la pi\u00e8ce \u00e0 cette camarade, au moment que nous\nsortions de la boutique; puis elle s'en alla de son c\u00f4t\u00e9, moi du mien.\nNous n'avions pas \u00e9t\u00e9 longtemps hors de la boutique que le mercier\ns'aper\u00e7ut que la pi\u00e8ce d'\u00e9toffe avait disparu, et envoya ses commis qui\nd'un c\u00f4t\u00e9, qui d'un autre; et bient\u00f4t ils eurent saisi la femme qui\nportait la pi\u00e8ce, et trouv\u00e8rent le damas sur elle; pour moi je m'\u00e9tais\nfaufil\u00e9e par chance dans une maison o\u00f9 il y avait une chambre \u00e0\ndentelle, au palier du premier escalier; et j'eus la satisfaction, ou la\nterreur, vraiment, de regarder par la fen\u00eatre et de voir tra\u00eener la\npauvre cr\u00e9ature devant la justice, qui l'envoya sur-le-champ \u00e0 Newgate.\nJe fus soigneuse \u00e0 ne rien tenter dans la chambre \u00e0 dentelle; mais je\nbouleversai assez toutes les marchandises afin de gagner du temps; puis\nj'achetai quelques aunes de passe-poil et les payai, et puis m'en allai,\nle coeur bien triste en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 pour la pauvre femme qui \u00e9tait en\ntribulation pour ce que moi seule avais vol\u00e9.\nL\u00e0 encore mon ancienne prudence me fut bien utile; j'avais beau voler en\ncompagnie de ces gens, pourtant je ne leur laissais jamais savoir qui\nj'\u00e9tais, ni ne pouvaient-ils jamais d\u00e9couvrir o\u00f9 je logeais, malgr\u00e9\nqu'ils s'effor\u00e7assent de m'\u00e9pier quand je rentrais. Ils me connaissaient\ntous sous le nom de Moll Flanders, bien que m\u00eame quelques-uns d'entre\neux se doutassent plut\u00f4t que je fusse elle, qu'ils ne le savaient; mon\nnom \u00e9tait public parmi eux, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; mais comment me d\u00e9couvrir, voil\u00e0\nce qu'ils ne savaient point, ni tant que deviner o\u00f9 \u00e9taient mes\nquartiers, si c'\u00e9tait \u00e0 l'est de Cit\u00e9 ou \u00e0 l'ouest; et cette m\u00e9fiance\nfut mon salut \u00e0 toutes ces occasions.\nJe demeurai enferm\u00e9e pendant longtemps sur l'occasion du d\u00e9sastre de\ncette femme; je savais que si je tentais quoi que ce f\u00fbt qui \u00e9chou\u00e2t, et\nque si je me faisais emmener en prison, elle serait l\u00e0, toute pr\u00eate de\nt\u00e9moigner contre moi, et peut-\u00eatre de sauver sa vie \u00e0 mes d\u00e9pens; je\nconsid\u00e9rais que je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 \u00eatre tr\u00e8s bien connue de nom \u00e0 Old\nBailey, quoiqu'ils ne connussent point ma figure, et que si je tombais\nentre leurs mains, je serais trait\u00e9e comme vieille d\u00e9linquante; et pour\ncette raison, j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solue \u00e0 voir ce qui arriverait \u00e0 cette pauvre\ncr\u00e9ature avant de bouger, quoique \u00e0 plusieurs reprises, dans sa\nd\u00e9tresse, je lui fis passer de l'argent pour la soulager.\n\u00c0 la fin son jugement arriva. Elle plaida que ce n'\u00e9tait point elle qui\navait vol\u00e9 les objets; mais qu'une Mme Flanders, ainsi qu'elle l'avait\nentendu nommer (car elle ne la connaissait pas), lui avait donn\u00e9 le\npaquet apr\u00e8s qu'elles \u00e9taient sorties de la boutique et lui avait dit de\nle rapporter chez elle. On lui demanda o\u00f9 \u00e9tait cette Mme Flanders. Mais\nelle ne put la produire, ni rendre le moindre compte de moi; et les\nhommes du mercier jurant positivement qu'elle \u00e9tait dans la boutique au\nmoment que les marchandises avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 vol\u00e9es, qu'ils s'\u00e9taient aper\u00e7us\nde leur disparition sur-le-champ, qu'ils l'avaient poursuivie, et qu'ils\nles avaient retrouv\u00e9es sur elle, l\u00e0-dessus le jury rendit le verdict\n\u00abcoupable\u00bb; mais la cour, consid\u00e9rant qu'elle n'\u00e9tait pas r\u00e9ellement la\npersonne qui avait vol\u00e9 les objets et qu'il \u00e9tait bien possible qu'elle\nne p\u00fbt pas retrouver cette Mme Flanders (ce qui se rapportait \u00e0 moi) par\no\u00f9 elle e\u00fbt pu sauver sa vie, ce qui \u00e9tait vrai, lui accorda la faveur\nd'\u00eatre d\u00e9port\u00e9e, qui fut l'extr\u00eame faveur qu'elle put obtenir; sinon que\nla cour lui dit que si entre temps elle pouvait produire ladite Mme\nFlanders, la cour interc\u00e9derait pour son pardon; c'est \u00e0 savoir que si\nelle pouvait me d\u00e9couvrir et me faire pendre, elle ne serait point\nd\u00e9port\u00e9e. C'est ce que je pris soin de lui rendre impossible, et ainsi\nelle fut embarqu\u00e9e en ex\u00e9cution de sa sentence peu de temps apr\u00e8s.\nIl faut que je le r\u00e9p\u00e8te encore, le sort de cette pauvre femme\nm'affligea extr\u00eamement; et je commen\u00e7ai d'\u00eatre tr\u00e8s pensive, sachant que\nj'\u00e9tais r\u00e9ellement l'instrument de son d\u00e9sastre: mais ma pauvre vie, qui\n\u00e9tait si \u00e9videmment en danger, m'\u00f4tait ma tendresse; et voyant qu'elle\nn'avait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 mise \u00e0 mort, je fus aise de sa d\u00e9portation, parce\nqu'elle \u00e9tait alors hors d'\u00e9tat de me faire du mal, quoi qu'il adv\u00eent.\nLe d\u00e9sastre de cette femme fut quelques mois avant celui de la derni\u00e8re\nhistoire que j'ai dite, et fut vraiment en partie l'occasion de la\nproposition que me fit ma gouvernante de me v\u00eatir d'habits d'homme, afin\nd'aller partout sans \u00eatre remarqu\u00e9e; mais je fus bient\u00f4t lasse de ce\nd\u00e9guisement, ainsi que j'ai dit, parce qu'il m'exposait \u00e0 trop de\ndifficult\u00e9s.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant tranquille, quant \u00e0 toute crainte de t\u00e9moignages\nrendus contre moi; car tous ceux qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 m\u00eal\u00e9s \u00e0 mes affaires ou\nqui me connaissaient sous le nom de Moll Flanders \u00e9taient pendus ou\nd\u00e9port\u00e9s; et si j'avais eu l'infortune de me faire prendre, j'aurais pu\nm'appeler de tout autre nom que Moll Flanders, sans qu'on parv\u00eent \u00e0 me\ncharger d'aucun ancien crime; si bien que j'entamai mon nouveau cr\u00e9dit\navec d'autant plus de libert\u00e9 et j'eus plusieurs heureuses aventures,\nquoique assez peu semblables \u00e0 celles que j'avais eues auparavant.\nNous e\u00fbmes \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque un autre incendie qui survint non loin du lieu\no\u00f9 vivait ma gouvernante et je fis l\u00e0 une tentative comme avant, mais\nn'y \u00e9tant pas arriv\u00e9e avant que la foule s'amass\u00e2t, je ne pus parvenir\njusqu'\u00e0 la maison que je visais, et au lieu de butin, je rencontrai un\nmalheur qui pensa mettre fin tout ensemble \u00e0 ma vie et \u00e0 mes mauvaises\nactions; car le feu \u00e9tant fort furieux, et les gens en grande frayeur,\nqui d\u00e9m\u00e9nageaient leurs meubles et les jetaient par la crois\u00e9e, une\nfille laissa tomber d'une fen\u00eatre un lit de plume justement sur moi; il\nest vrai que le lit de plume \u00e9tant mol, ne pouvait point me briser les\nos; mais comme le poids \u00e9tait fort grand, il s'augmentait de sa chute,\nje fus renvers\u00e9e \u00e0 terre et je demeurai un moment comme morte:\nd'ailleurs on ne s'inqui\u00e9ta gu\u00e8re de me d\u00e9barrasser ou de me faire\nrevenir \u00e0 moi; mais je gisais comme une morte, et on me laissa l\u00e0,\njusqu'\u00e0 l'heure o\u00f9 une personne qui allait pour enlever le lit de plume\nm'aida \u00e0 me relever; ce fut en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 un miracle si les gens de la\nmaison ne jet\u00e8rent point d'autres meubles afin de les y faire tomber,\nchose qui m'e\u00fbt in\u00e9vitablement tu\u00e9e; mais j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9serv\u00e9e pour d'autres\nafflictions.\nCet accident toutefois me g\u00e2ta le march\u00e9 pour un temps et je rentrai\nchez ma gouvernante assez meurtrie et fort effray\u00e9e, et elle eut bien de\nla peine \u00e0 me remettre sur pieds.\nC'\u00e9tait maintenant la joyeuse \u00e9poque de l'ann\u00e9e, et la foire\nSaint-Barth\u00e9lemy \u00e9tait commenc\u00e9e; je n'avais jamais fait d'excursion de\nce c\u00f4t\u00e9-l\u00e0, et la foire n'\u00e9tait point fort avantageuse pour moi;\ncependant cette ann\u00e9e j'allai faire un tour dans les clo\u00eetres, et l\u00e0 je\ntombai dans une des boutiques \u00e0 rafle. C'\u00e9tait une chose de peu de\ncons\u00e9quence pour moi; mais il entra un gentilhomme extr\u00eamement bien\nv\u00eatu, et tr\u00e8s riche, et comme il arrive d'ordinaire que l'on parle \u00e0\ntout le monde dans ces boutiques, il me remarqua et s'adressa\nsinguli\u00e8rement \u00e0 moi; d'abord il me dit qu'il allait mettre \u00e0 la rafle\npour moi, et c'est ce qu'il fit; et comme il gagna quelque petit lot, je\ncrois que c'\u00e9tait un manchon de plumes, il me l'offrit; puis il continua\nde me parler avec une apparence de respect qui passait l'ordinaire; mais\ntoujours avec infiniment de civilit\u00e9, et en fa\u00e7on de gentilhomme.\nIl me tint si longtemps en conversation, qu'\u00e0 la fin il me tira du lieu\no\u00f9 on jouait \u00e0 la rafle jusqu'\u00e0 la porte de la boutique, puis m'en fit\nsortir pour me promener dans le clo\u00eetre, ne cessa point de me parler\nl\u00e9g\u00e8rement de mille choses, sans qu'il y e\u00fbt rien au propos; enfin il me\ndit qu'il \u00e9tait charm\u00e9 de ma soci\u00e9t\u00e9, et me demanda si je n'oserais\npoint monter en carrosse avec lui: il me dit qu'il \u00e9tait homme\nd'honneur, et qu'il ne tenterait rien d'inconvenant. Je parus r\u00e9pugnante\nd'abord, mais je souffris de me laisser importuner un peu; enfin je\nc\u00e9dai.\nJe ne savais que penser du dessein de ce gentilhomme; mais je d\u00e9couvris\nplus tard qu'il avait la t\u00eate brouill\u00e9e par les fum\u00e9es du vin qu'il\navait bu, et qu'il ne manquait pas d'envie d'en boire davantage. Il\nm'emmena au Spring-Garden, \u00e0 Knightsbridge, o\u00f9 nous nous promen\u00e2mes dans\nles jardins, et o\u00f9 il me traita fort bravement; mais je trouvai qu'il\nbuvait avec exc\u00e8s; il me pressa de boire aussi--mais je refusai.\nJusque-l\u00e0 il avait gard\u00e9 sa parole, et n'avait rien tent\u00e9 qui f\u00fbt contre\nla d\u00e9cence; nous remont\u00e2mes en carrosse, et il me promena par les rues,\net \u00e0 ce moment il \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s de dix heures du soir, qu'il fit arr\u00eater le\ncarrosse \u00e0 une maison o\u00f9 il para\u00eet qu'il \u00e9tait connu et o\u00f9 on ne fit\npoint scrupule de nous faire monter l'escalier et de nous faire entrer\ndans une chambre o\u00f9 il y avait un lit; d'abord je parus r\u00e9pugnante \u00e0\nmonter; mais, apr\u00e8s quelques paroles, l\u00e0 encore je c\u00e9dai, ayant en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 le d\u00e9sir de voir l'issue de cette affaire, et avec l'espoir d'y\ngagner quelque chose, en fin de compte; pour ce qui \u00e9tait du lit, etc.,\nje n'\u00e9tais pas fort inqui\u00e8te l\u00e0-dessus.\nIci il commen\u00e7a de se montrer un peu plus libre qu'il n'avait promis: et\nmoi, peu \u00e0 peu, je c\u00e9dai \u00e0 tout; de sorte qu'en somme il fit de moi ce\nqu'il lui plut: point n'est besoin d'en dire davantage. Et cependant il\nbuvait d'abondance; et vers une heure du matin nous remont\u00e2mes dans le\ncarrosse; l'air et le mouvement du carrosse lui firent monter les\nvapeurs de la boisson \u00e0 la t\u00eate; il montra quelque agitation et voulut\nrecommencer ce qu'il venait de faire; mais moi, sachant bien que je\njouais maintenant \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, je r\u00e9sistai, et je le fis tenir un peu\ntranquille, d'o\u00f9 \u00e0 peine cinq minutes apr\u00e8s il tomba profond\u00e9ment\nendormi.\nJe saisis cette occasion pour le fouiller fort minutieusement; je lui\n\u00f4tai une montre en or, avec une bourse de soie pleine d'or, sa belle\nperruque \u00e0 calotte pleine, et ses gants \u00e0 frange d'argent, son \u00e9p\u00e9e et\nsa belle tabati\u00e8re; puis ouvrant doucement la porti\u00e8re du carrosse, je\nme tins pr\u00eate \u00e0 sauter tandis que le carrosse marcherait; mais comme le\ncarrosse s'arr\u00eatait dans l'\u00e9troite rue qui est de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de\nTemple-Bar pour laisser passer un autre carrosse, je sortis sans bruit,\nrefermai la porti\u00e8re, et faussai compagnie \u00e0 mon gentilhomme et au\ncarrosse tout ensemble.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 une aventure impr\u00e9vue et o\u00f9 je n'avais eu aucune\nmani\u00e8re de dessein; quoique je ne fusse pas d\u00e9j\u00e0 si loin de la joyeuse\npartie de la vie pour oublier comment il fallait se conduire quand un\nsot aussi aveugl\u00e9 par ses app\u00e9tits ne reconna\u00eetrait pas une vieille\nfemme d'une jeune. Je paraissais en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 dix ou douze ans de moins que\nje n'avais; pourtant je n'\u00e9tais point une jeune fille de dix-sept ans,\net il \u00e9tait ais\u00e9 de le voir. Il n'y a rien de si absurde, de si\nextravagant ni de si ridicule, qu'un homme qui a la t\u00eate \u00e9chauff\u00e9e tout\nensemble par le vin et par un mauvais penchant de son d\u00e9sir; il est\nposs\u00e9d\u00e9 \u00e0 la fois par deux d\u00e9mons, et ne peut pas plus se gouverner par\nraison qu'un moulin ne saurait moudre sans eau; le vice foule aux pieds\ntout ce qui \u00e9tait bon en lui; oui et ses sens m\u00eames sont obscurcis par\nsa propre rage, et il agit en absurde \u00e0 ses propres yeux: ainsi il\ncontinuera de boire, \u00e9tant d\u00e9j\u00e0 ivre; il ramassera une fille commune,\nsans se soucier de ce qu'elle est ni demander qui elle est: saine ou\npourrie, propre ou sale, laide ou jolie, vieille ou jeune; si aveugl\u00e9\nqu'il ne saurait distinguer. Un tel homme est pire qu'un lunatique;\npouss\u00e9 par sa t\u00eate ridicule, il ne sait pas plus ce qu'il fait que ne le\nsavait mon mis\u00e9rable quand je lui tirai de la poche sa montre et sa\nbourse d'or.\nCe sont l\u00e0 les hommes dont Salomon dit:\n\u00ab--Ils marchent comme le boeuf \u00e0 l'abattoir, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que le fer leur\nperce le foie.\u00bb\nAdmirable description d'ailleurs de l'horrible maladie, qui est une\ncontagion empoisonn\u00e9e et mortelle se m\u00ealant au sang dont le centre ou\nfontaine est dans le foie; d'o\u00f9 par la circulation rapide de la masse\nenti\u00e8re, cet affreux fl\u00e9au naus\u00e9abond frappe imm\u00e9diatement le foie,\ninfecte les esprits, et perce les entrailles comme d'un fer.\nIl est vrai que le pauvre mis\u00e9rable sans d\u00e9fense n'avait rien \u00e0 craindre\nde moi; quoique j'eusse grande appr\u00e9hension d'abord sur ce que je\npouvais avoir \u00e0 craindre de lui; mais c'\u00e9tait vraiment un homme digne de\npiti\u00e9 en tant qu'il \u00e9tait de bonne sorte; un gentilhomme n'ayant point\nde mauvais dessein; homme de bon sens et belle conduite: personne\nagr\u00e9able et avenante, de contenance sobre et ferme, de visage charmant\net beau, et tout ce qui pouvait plaire, sinon qu'il avait un peu bu par\nmalheur la nuit d'avant; qu'il ne s'\u00e9tait point mis au lit, ainsi qu'il\nme dit quand nous f\u00fbmes ensemble; qu'il \u00e9tait \u00e9chauff\u00e9 et que son sang\n\u00e9tait enflamm\u00e9 par le vin; et que dans cette condition sa raison, comme\nsi elle fut endormie, l'avait abandonn\u00e9.\nPour moi, mon affaire, c'\u00e9tait son argent et ce que je pouvais gagner\nsur lui et ensuite si j'eusse pu trouver quelque moyen de le faire, je\nl'eusse renvoy\u00e9 sain et sauf chez lui en sa maison, dans sa famille, car\nje gage dix contre un qu'il avait une femme honn\u00eate et vertueuse et\nd'innocents enfants qui \u00e9taient inquiets de lui et qui auraient bien\nvoulu qu'il f\u00fbt rentr\u00e9 pour prendre soin de lui jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il se\nremit. Et puis avec quelle honte et quel regret il consid\u00e9rerait ce\nqu'il avait fait! Comme il se reprocherait d'avoir li\u00e9 fr\u00e9quentation\navec une p...! Ramass\u00e9e dans le pire des mauvais lieux, le clo\u00eetre,\nparmi l'ordure et la souillure de la ville! Comme il tremblerait de\ncrainte d'avoir pris la..., de crainte que le fer lui e\u00fbt perc\u00e9 le foie!\nComme il se ha\u00efrait lui-m\u00eame chaque fois qu'il regarderait la folie et\nla brutalit\u00e9 de sa d\u00e9bauche! Comme il abhorrerait la pens\u00e9e, s'il avait\nquelques principes d'honneur, de donner aucune maladie s'il en avait--et\n\u00e9tait-il s\u00fbr de n'en point avoir?--\u00e0 sa femme chaste et vertueuse, et de\nsemer ainsi la contagion dans le sang vital de sa post\u00e9rit\u00e9!\nSi de tels gentilshommes regardaient seulement les m\u00e9prisables pens\u00e9es\nqu'entretiennent sur eux les femmes m\u00eames dont ils sont occup\u00e9s en des\ncas tels que ceux-ci, ils en auraient du d\u00e9go\u00fbt. Ainsi que j'ai dit plus\nhaut, elles n'estiment point le plaisir; elles ne sont soulev\u00e9es par\naucune inclination pour l'homme; la g... passive ne pense \u00e0 d'autre\nplaisir qu'\u00e0 l'argent, et quand il est tout ivre en quelque sorte par\nl'extase de son mauvais plaisir, les mains de la fille sont dans ses\npoches en qu\u00eate de ce qu'elle y peut trouver, et il ne s'en aper\u00e7oit pas\nplus au moment de sa folie qu'il ne le peut pr\u00e9voir dans l'instant qu'il\na commenc\u00e9.\nJ'ai connu une femme qui eut tant d'adresse avec un homme qui en v\u00e9rit\u00e9\nne m\u00e9ritait point d'\u00eatre mieux trait\u00e9, que pendant qu'il \u00e9tait occup\u00e9\navec elle d'une autre mani\u00e8re, elle fit passer sa bourse qui contenait\nvingt guin\u00e9es hors de son gousset o\u00f9 il l'avait mise de crainte qu'elle\nla lui pr\u00eet, et glissa \u00e0 la place une autre bourse pleine de jetons\ndor\u00e9s. Apr\u00e8s qu'il eut fini, il lui dit:\n--Voyons! ne m'as-tu point vol\u00e9?\nElle se mit \u00e0 plaisanter et lui dit qu'elle ne pensait pas qu'il e\u00fbt\nbeaucoup d'argent \u00e0 perdre. Il mit la main \u00e0 son gousset, et t\u00e2ta sa\nbourse des doigts, d'o\u00f9 il fut rassur\u00e9, et ainsi elle s'en alla avec son\nargent. Et c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 le m\u00e9tier de cette fille. Elle avait une montre\nd'or faux et dans sa poche une bourse pleine de jetons toute pr\u00eate \u00e0 de\nsemblables occasions, et je ne doute point qu'elle ne pratiqu\u00e2t son\nm\u00e9tier avec succ\u00e8s.\nJe rentrai chez ma gouvernante avec mon butin, et vraiment quand je lui\ncontai l'histoire, elle put \u00e0 peine retenir ses larmes de penser comment\nun tel gentilhomme courait journellement le risque de se perdre chaque\nfois qu'un verre de vin lui montait \u00e0 la t\u00eate.\nMais quant \u00e0 mon aubaine, et combien totalement je l'avais d\u00e9pouill\u00e9,\nelle me dit qu'elle en \u00e9tait merveilleusement charm\u00e9e.\n--Oui, mon enfant, dit-elle, voil\u00e0 une aventure qui sans doute servira\nmieux \u00e0 le gu\u00e9rir que tous les sermons qu'il entendra jamais dans sa\nvie.\nEt si le reste de l'histoire est vrai, c'est ce qui arriva en effet.\nJe trouvai le lendemain qu'elle s'enqu\u00e9rait merveilleusement de ce\ngentilhomme. La description que je lui en donnai, ses habits, sa\npersonne, son visage, tout concourait \u00e0 la faire souvenir d'un\ngentilhomme dont elle connaissait le caract\u00e8re. Elle demeura pensive un\nmoment et comme je continuais \u00e0 lui donner des d\u00e9tails, elle se met \u00e0\ndire:\n--Je parie cent livres que je connais cet homme.\n--J'en suis f\u00e2ch\u00e9e, dis-je, car je ne voudrais pas qu'il f\u00fbt expos\u00e9 pour\ntout l'or du monde. On lui a d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait assez de mal, et je ne voudrais\npas aider \u00e0 lui en faire davantage.\n--Non, non, dit-elle, je ne veux pas lui faire de mal, mais tu peux bien\nme laisser satisfaire un peu ma curiosit\u00e9, car si c'est lui, je te\npromets bien que je le retrouverai.\nJe fus un peu effar\u00e9e l\u00e0-dessus, et lui dis le visage plein d'une\ninqui\u00e9tude apparente qu'il pourrait donc par le m\u00eame moyen me retrouver,\nmoi et qu'alors j'\u00e9tais perdue. Elle repartit vivement:\n--Eh quoi! penses-tu donc que je vais te trahir? mon enfant. Non, non,\ndit-elle, quand il d\u00fbt avoir dix fois plus d'\u00e9tat, j'ai gard\u00e9 ton secret\ndans des choses pires que celle-ci. Tu peux bien te fier \u00e0 moi pour\ncette fois.\nAlors je n'en dis point davantage.\nElle disposa son plan d'autre mani\u00e8re et sans me le faire conna\u00eetre,\nmais elle \u00e9tait r\u00e9solue \u00e0 tout d\u00e9couvrir; si bien qu'elle va trouver une\ncertaine personne de ses amis qui avait accointance dans la famille\nqu'elle supposait, et lui dit qu'elle avait une affaire extraordinaire\navec tel gentilhomme (qui--soit dit en passant--n'\u00e9tait rien de moins\nqu'un baronnet, et de tr\u00e8s bonne famille) et qu'elle ne savait comment\nparvenir jusqu'\u00e0 lui sans \u00eatre introduite dans la maison. Son amie lui\npromit sur-le-champ de l'y aider, et en effet s'en va voir si le\ngentilhomme \u00e9tait en ville.\nLe lendemain elle arrive chez ma gouvernante et lui dit que Sir ** \u00e9tait\nchez lui, mais qu'il lui \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 quelque accident, qu'il \u00e9tait fort\nindispos\u00e9, et qu'il \u00e9tait impossible de le voir.\n--Quel accident? dit ma gouvernante, en toute h\u00e2te, comme si elle f\u00fbt\nsurprise.\n--Mais, r\u00e9pond mon amie, il \u00e9tait all\u00e9 \u00e0 Hampstead pour y rendre visite\n\u00e0 un gentilhomme de ses amis, et comme il revenait, il fut attaqu\u00e9 et\nvol\u00e9; et ayant un peu trop bu, comme on croit, les coquins le\nmaltrait\u00e8rent, et il est fort indispos\u00e9.\n--Vol\u00e9! dit ma gouvernante et que lui a-t-on pris?\n--Mais, r\u00e9pond son amie, on lui a pris sa montre en or, et sa tabati\u00e8re\nd'or, sa belle perruque, et tout l'argent qui \u00e9tait dans sa poche, somme\n\u00e0 coup s\u00fbr consid\u00e9rable, car Sir *** ne sort jamais sans porter une\nbourse pleine de guin\u00e9es sur lui.\n--Bah, bah! dit ma vieille gouvernante, gouailleuse, je vous parie bien\nqu'il \u00e9tait ivre, qu'il a pris une p... et qu'elle lui a retourn\u00e9 les\npoches; et puis il est rentr\u00e9 trouver sa femme, et lui conte qu'on l'a\nvol\u00e9; c'est une vieille couleur; on joue mille tours semblables aux\npauvres femmes tous les jours.\n--Fi, dit son amie, je vois bien que vous ne connaissez point Sir ***:\nc'est bien le plus honn\u00eate gentilhomme qu'il y ait au monde; il n'y a\npas dans toute la cit\u00e9 d'homme plus \u00e9l\u00e9gant ni de personne plus sobre et\nplus modeste; il a horreur de toutes ces choses; il n'y a personne qui\nle connaisse \u00e0 qui pareille id\u00e9e p\u00fbt venir.\n--Allons, allons, dit ma gouvernante, ce ne sont point mes affaires;\nautrement je vous assure que je trouverais l\u00e0 dedans quelque peu de ce\nque j'ai dit: tous vos hommes de r\u00e9putation modeste ne valent parfois\ngu\u00e8re mieux que les autres! ils ont seulement meilleure tenue, ou si\nvous voulez, ce sont de meilleurs hypocrites.\n--Non, non, dit mon amie; je puis vous assurer que Sir *** n'est point\nun hypocrite; c'est vraiment un gentilhomme sobre et honn\u00eate et sans\naucun doute il a \u00e9t\u00e9 vol\u00e9.\n--Nenni, dit ma gouvernante, je ne dis point le contraire; ce ne sont\npas mes affaires, vous dis-je; je veux seulement lui parler: mon affaire\nest d'autre nature.\n--Mais, dit son amie, quelle que soit la nature de votre affaire, c'est\nimpossible en ce moment; vous ne sauriez le voir: il est tr\u00e8s indispos\u00e9\net fort meurtri.\n--Ah oui! dit ma gouvernante, il est donc tomb\u00e9 en de bien mauvaises\nmains?\nEt puis elle demanda gravement:\n--O\u00f9 est-il meurtri, je vous prie?\n--Mais \u00e0 la t\u00eate, dit mon amie, \u00e0 une de ses mains et \u00e0 la figure, car\nils l'ont trait\u00e9 avec barbarie.\n--Pauvre gentilhomme, dit ma gouvernante; alors il faut que j'attende\nqu'il soit remis, et elle ajouta: j'esp\u00e8re que ce sera bient\u00f4t.\nEt la voil\u00e0 partie me raconter l'histoire.\n--J'ai trouv\u00e9 ton beau gentilhomme, dit-elle,--et certes c'\u00e9tait un beau\ngentilhomme--mais, Dieu ait piti\u00e9 de lui,--il est maintenant dans une\ntriste passe; je me demande ce que diable tu lui as fait; ma foi, tu\nl'as presque tu\u00e9.\nJe la regardai avec assez de d\u00e9sordre.\n--Moi le tuer! dis-je; vous devez vous tromper sur la personne; je suis\ns\u00fbre de ne lui avoir rien fait; il \u00e9tait fort bien quand je le quittai,\ndis-je, sinon qu'il \u00e9tait ivre et profond\u00e9ment endormi.\n--Voil\u00e0 ce que je ne sais point, dit-elle, mais \u00e0 cette heure il est\ndans une triste passe; et la voil\u00e0 qui me raconte tout ce que son amie\navait dit.\n--Eh bien alors, dis-je, c'est qu'il est tomb\u00e9 dans de mauvaises mains\napr\u00e8s que je l'ai quitt\u00e9, car je l'avais laiss\u00e9 en assez bon \u00e9tat.\nEnviron dix jours apr\u00e8s, ma gouvernante retourne chez son amie, pour se\nfaire introduire chez ce gentilhomme; elle s'\u00e9tait enquise cependant par\nd'autres voies et elle avait ou\u00ef dire qu'il \u00e9tait remis; si bien qu'on\nlui permit de lui parler.\nC'\u00e9tait une femme d'une adresse admirable, et qui n'avait besoin de\npersonne pour l'introduire; elle dit son histoire bien mieux que je ne\nsaurai la r\u00e9p\u00e9ter, car elle \u00e9tait ma\u00eetresse de sa langue, ainsi que j'ai\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 dit. Elle lui conta qu'elle venait, quoique \u00e9trang\u00e8re, dans le seul\ndessein de lui rendre service, et qu'il trouverait qu'elle ne venait\npoint \u00e0 une autre fin; qu'ainsi qu'elle arrivait simplement \u00e0 titre si\namical, elle lui demandait la promesse que, s'il n'acceptait pas ce\nqu'elle proposerait officiellement, il ne prit pas en mauvaise part\nqu'elle se f\u00fbt m\u00eal\u00e9e de ce qui n'\u00e9tait point ses affaires; elle l'amura\nqu'ainsi que ce qu'elle avait \u00e0 dire \u00e9tait un secret qui n'appartenait\nqu'\u00e0 lui, ainsi, qu'il accept\u00e2t son offre ou non, la chose resterait\nsecr\u00e8te pour tout le monde, \u00e0 moins qu'il la publi\u00e2t lui-m\u00eame; et que\nson refus ne lui \u00f4terait pas le respect qu'elle entretenait pour lui, au\npoint qu'elle lui fit la moindre injure, de sorte qu'il avait pleine\nlibert\u00e9 d'agir ainsi qu'il le jugerait bon.\nIl prit l'air fort fuyant d'abord et dit qu'il ne connaissait rien en\nses affaires qui demand\u00e2t beaucoup de secret, qu'il n'avait jamais fait\ntort \u00e0 personne et qu'il ne se souciait pas de ce qu'on pouvait dire de\nlui; que ce n'\u00e9tait point une partie de son caract\u00e8re d'\u00eatre injuste\npour quiconque et qu'il ne pouvait point s'imaginer en quoi aucun homme\np\u00fbt lui rendre service, mais que s'il \u00e9tait ainsi qu'elle avait dit, il\nne pouvait se f\u00e2cher qu'on s'effor\u00e7\u00e2t de le servir, et qu'il la laissait\ndonc libre de parler ou de ne point parler \u00e0 sa volont\u00e9.\nElle le trouva si parfaitement indiff\u00e9rent qu'elle eut presque de la\ncrainte \u00e0 aborder la question. Cependant apr\u00e8s plusieurs d\u00e9tours, elle\nlui dit que par un accident incroyable, elle \u00e9tait venue \u00e0 avoir une\nconnaissance particuli\u00e8re de cette malheureuse aventure o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait\ntomb\u00e9, et en une mani\u00e8re telle qu'il n'y avait personne au monde\nqu'elle-m\u00eame et lui qui en fussent inform\u00e9s, non, pas m\u00eame la personne\nqui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 avec lui.\nIl prit d'abord une mine un peu en col\u00e8re.\n--Quelle aventure? dit-il.\n--Mais, dit-elle, quand vous avez \u00e9t\u00e9 vol\u00e9 au moment vous veniez de\nKnightsbr... Hampstead, monsieur, voulais-je dire, dit-elle, ne soyez\npas surpris, monsieur, dit-elle, que je puisse vous rendre compte de\nchaque pas que vous avez fait ce jour-l\u00e0 depuis le clo\u00eetre \u00e0 Smithfield\njusqu'au Spring-Garden \u00e0 Knightsbridge et de l\u00e0 au *** dans le Strand,\net comment vous rest\u00e2tes endormi dans le carrosse ensuite; que ceci,\ndis-je, ne vous surprenne point, car je ne viens pas, monsieur, vous\ntirer de l'argent. Je ne vous demande rien et, je vous assure que la\nfemme qui \u00e9tait avec vous ne sait point du tout qui vous \u00eates et ne le\nsaura jamais. Et pourtant peut-\u00eatre que je peux vous servir plus encore,\ncar je ne suis pas venue tout nuement pour vous faire savoir que j'\u00e9tais\ninform\u00e9e de ces choses comme si je vous eusse demand\u00e9 le prix de mon\nsilence; soyez persuad\u00e9, monsieur, dit-elle, que, quoi que vous jugiez\nbon de faire ou de me dire, tout restera secret autant que si je fusse\ndans ma tombe.\nIl fut \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de son discours et lui dit gravement:\n--Madame, vous \u00eates une \u00e9trang\u00e8re pour moi, mais il est bien infortun\u00e9\nque vous ayez p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 le secret de la pire action de ma vie et d'une\nchose dont je suis justement honteux; en quoi la seule satisfaction que\nj'avais \u00e9tait que je pensais qu'elle f\u00fbt connue seulement de Dieu et de\nma propre conscience.\n--Monsieur, dit-elle, je vous prie de ne point compter la connaissance\nque j'ai de ce secret comme une part de votre malheur; c'est une chose\no\u00f9 je pense que vous f\u00fbtes entra\u00een\u00e9 par surprise, et peut-\u00eatre que la\nfemme usa de quelque art pour vous y pousser. Toutefois vous ne\ntrouverez jamais de juste cause, dit-elle, de vous repentir que je sois\nvenue \u00e0 l'apprendre, ni votre bouche ne peut-elle \u00eatre l\u00e0-dedans plus\nmuette que je ne l'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 et le serai jamais.\n--Eh bien, dit-il, c'est que je veux rendre justice aussi \u00e0 cette femme.\nQuelle qu'elle soit, je vous assure qu'elle ne me poussa \u00e0 rien. Elle\ns'effor\u00e7a plut\u00f4t de r\u00e9sister; c'est ma propre extravagance et ma folie\nqui m'entra\u00een\u00e8rent \u00e0 tout, oui, et qui l'y entra\u00een\u00e8rent aussi. Je ne\nveux point lui faire tort. Pour ce qu'elle m'a pris, je ne pouvais\nm'attendra \u00e0 rien de moins d'elle en la condition o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, et \u00e0 cette\nheure encore, je ne sais point si c'est elle qui m'a vol\u00e9 ou si c'est le\ncocher. Si c'est elle, je lui pardonne. Je crois que tous les\ngentilshommes qui agissent ainsi que je l'ai fait devraient \u00eatre trait\u00e9s\nde m\u00eame fa\u00e7on; mais je suis plus tourment\u00e9 d'autres choses que de tout\nce qu'elle m'a \u00f4t\u00e9.\nMa gouvernante alors commen\u00e7a d'entrer dans toute l'affaire, et il\ns'ouvrit franchement \u00e0 elle. D'abord elle lui dit en r\u00e9ponse \u00e0 ce\nqu'elle lui avait dit sur moi:\n--Je suis heureuse, monsieur, que vous montriez tant de justice \u00e0 la\npersonne avec laquelle vous \u00eates all\u00e9. Je vous assure que c'est une\nfemme de qualit\u00e9, et que ce n'est point une fille commune de la ville,\net quoi que vous ayez obtenu d'elle, je suis persuad\u00e9e que ce n'est pas\nson m\u00e9tier. Vous avez couru un grand risque en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, monsieur, mais si\nc'est l\u00e0 une partie de votre tourment, vous pouvez \u00eatre parfaitement\ntranquille, car je vous jure que pas un homme ne l'a touch\u00e9e avant vous\ndepuis son mari, et il est mort voil\u00e0 tant\u00f4t huit ans.\nIl parut que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 sa peine et qu'il \u00e9tait en grande frayeur l\u00e0\ndessus. Toutefois sur les paroles de ma gouvernante, il parut enchant\u00e9\net dit:\n--Eh bien, madame, pour vous parler tout net, si j'\u00e9tais s\u00fbr de ce que\nvous me dites, je ne me soucierais point tant de ce que j'ai perdu. La\ntentation \u00e9tait grande, et peut-\u00eatre qu'elle \u00e9tait pauvre et qu'elle en\navait besoin.\n--Si elle n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 pauvre, monsieur, dit-elle, je vous jure qu'elle\nne vous aurait jamais c\u00e9d\u00e9, et, ainsi que sa pauvret\u00e9 l'entra\u00eena d'abord\n\u00e0 vous laisser faire ce que vous f\u00eetes, ainsi la m\u00eame pauvret\u00e9 la poussa\n\u00e0 se payer \u00e0 la fin, quand elle vit que vous \u00e9tiez en une telle\ncondition que si elle ne l'avait point fait, peut-\u00eatre que le prochain\ncocher ou porteur de chaises l'e\u00fbt pu faire \u00e0 votre plus grand dam.\n--Eh bien! dit-il, grand bien lui fasse! Je le r\u00e9p\u00e8te encore, tous les\ngentilshommes qui agissent ainsi devraient \u00eatre trait\u00e9s de la m\u00eame\nmani\u00e8re, et cela les porterait \u00e0 veiller sur leurs actions. Je n'ai\npoint d'inqui\u00e9tude l\u00e0-dessus que relativement au sujet dont nous avons\nparl\u00e9. L\u00e0, il entra en quelques libert\u00e9s avec elle sur ce qui s'\u00e9tait\npass\u00e9 entre nous, chose qu'il ne convient pas qu'une femme \u00e9crive, et\nsur la grande terreur qui pesait sur son esprit pour sa femme, de\ncrainte qu'il e\u00fbt re\u00e7u quelque mal de moi et le communiqu\u00e2t. Il lui\ndemanda enfin si elle ne pouvait lui procurer une occasion de me parler.\nMa gouvernante lui donna de pleines assurances sur ce que j'\u00e9tais une\nfemme exempte de toutes choses pareilles et qu'il pouvait avoir autant\nde tranquillit\u00e9 l\u00e0-dessus que si c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 avec sa propre femme. Mais\npour ce qui \u00e9tait de me voir, elle dit qu'il pourrait y avoir de\ndangereuses cons\u00e9quences; toutefois qu'elle me parlerait et lui ferait\nsavoir, s'effor\u00e7ant cependant de lui persuader de n'en point avoir le\nd\u00e9sir, et qu'il n'en retirerait aucun b\u00e9n\u00e9fice, regardant qu'elle\nesp\u00e9rait qu'il n'avait point l'intention de renouveler la liaison et que\npour moi, c'\u00e9tait tout justement comme si je lui misse ma vie entre les\nmains.\nIl lui dit qu'il avait un grand d\u00e9sir de me voir, qu'il lui donnerait\ntoutes les assurances possibles de ne point tirer avantage de moi, et\nque tout d'abord, il me ferait gr\u00e2ce en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral de toute demande\nd'espace quelconque. Elle insista pour lui montrer que ce ne serait l\u00e0\nque la divulgation de son secret qui pourrait lui faire grand tort et le\nsupplia de ne point la presser plus avant, si bien qu'en fin du compte\nil y renon\u00e7a.\nIls eurent quelque discours au sujet des choses qu'il avait perdues et\nil parut tr\u00e8s d\u00e9sireux de retrouver sa montre en or, et lui dit que si\nelle pouvait la lui procurer, il en payerait volontiers la valeur, elle\nlui dit qu'elle s'y efforcerait et en abandonna le prix \u00e0 son\nestimation.\nEn effet le lendemain elle lui apporta la montre et il lui en donna\ntrente guin\u00e9es qui \u00e9tait plus que je n'eusse pu en faire quoiqu'il\npara\u00eet qu'elle avait co\u00fbt\u00e9 bien davantage. Il parla aussi quelque peu de\nsa perruque qui lui avait co\u00fbt\u00e9, para\u00eet-il, soixante guin\u00e9es ainsi que\nde sa tabati\u00e8re et peu de jours apr\u00e8s elle les lui apporta aussi, ce qui\nl'obligea infiniment, et il lui donna encore trente guin\u00e9es. Le\nlendemain je lui envoyai sa belle \u00e9p\u00e9e et sa canne gratis et ne lui\ndemandai rien.\nAlors il entra en une longue conversation sur la mani\u00e8re dont elle \u00e9tait\nvenue \u00e0 savoir toute cette affaire. Elle construisit une longue histoire\nl\u00e0-dessus, comment elle l'avait su par une personne \u00e0 qui j'avais tout\nracont\u00e9 et qui devait m'aider \u00e0 disposer des effets que cette confidence\nlui avait apport\u00e9s, puisqu'elle \u00e9tait de sa profession brocanteuse;\nqu'elle, apprenant l'accident de Sa Dignit\u00e9, avait devin\u00e9 tout\nl'ensemble de l'affaire, et, qu'ayant les effets entre les mains, elle\navait r\u00e9solu de venir tenter ce qu'elle avait fait. Puis elle lui donna\ndes assurances r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e9es, affirmant qu'il ne lui en sortirait jamais un\nmot de la bouche, et que, bien qu'elle conn\u00fbt fort bien la femme\n(c'\u00e9tait moi qu'elle voulait dire), cependant elle ne lui avait\nnullement laiss\u00e9 savoir qu'elle \u00e9tait la personne, ce qui d'ailleurs\n\u00e9tait faux: mais il ne devait point lui en arriver d'inconv\u00e9nient car je\nn'en ouvris jamais la bouche \u00e0 quiconque.\nJe pensais bien souvent \u00e0 le revoir et j'\u00e9tais f\u00e2ch\u00e9e d'avoir refus\u00e9;\nj'\u00e9tais persuad\u00e9e que si je l'eusse vu et lui eusse fait savoir que je\nle connaissais, j'eusse pu tirer quelque avantage de lui et peut-\u00eatre\nobtenir quelque entretien. Quoique ce f\u00fbt une vie assez mauvaise,\npourtant elle n'\u00e9tait pas si pleine de dangers que celle o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais\nengag\u00e9e. Cependant ces id\u00e9es pass\u00e8rent \u00e0 la longue. Mais ma gouvernante\nle voyait souvent et il \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s bon pour elle, lui donnant quelque\nchose presque chaque fois qu'il la voyait. Une fois en particulier, elle\nle trouva fort joyeux et, ainsi qu'elle pensa, quelque peu excit\u00e9 de\nvin, et il la pressa encore de lui laisser revoir cette femme, qui,\nainsi qu'il disait, l'avait tant ensorcel\u00e9 cette nuit-l\u00e0. Ma\ngouvernante, qui depuis le commencement avait envie que je le revisse,\nlui dit qu'elle voyait que son d\u00e9sir \u00e9tait tellement fort qu'elle serait\nport\u00e9e \u00e0 y c\u00e9der si elle pouvait obtenir de moi que je m'y soumisse,\najoutant que s'il lui plaisait de venir \u00e0 sa maison le soir, elle\ns'efforcerait de lui donner satisfaction sur ces assurances r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e9es\nqu'il oublierait ce qui s'\u00e9tait pass\u00e9.\nElle vint me trouver en effet, et me rapporta tout le discours; en\nsomme, elle m'amena bient\u00f4t \u00e0 consentir en un cas o\u00f9 j'\u00e9prouvais quelque\nregret d'avoir refus\u00e9 auparavant; si bien que je me pr\u00e9parai \u00e0 le voir.\nJe m'habillai du mieux que je pus \u00e0 mon avantage, je vous l'assure, et\npour la premi\u00e8re fois j'usai d'un peu d'artifice; pour la premi\u00e8re fois,\ndis-je, car je n'avais jamais c\u00e9d\u00e9 \u00e0 la bassesse de me peindre avant ce\njour, ayant toujours assez de vanit\u00e9 pour croire que je n'en avais point\nbesoin.\nIl arriva \u00e0 l'heure fix\u00e9e; et, ainsi qu'elle l'avait remarqu\u00e9\nauparavant, il \u00e9tait clair encore qu'il venait de boire, quoiqu'il f\u00fbt\nloin d'\u00eatre ce qu'on peut appeler ivre. Il parut infiniment charm\u00e9 de me\nvoir et entra dans un long discours avec moi sur toute l'affaire;\nj'implorai son pardon, \u00e0 maintes reprises, pour la part que j'y avais\neue, protestai que je n'avais point entretenu de tel dessein quand\nd'abord je l'avais rencontr\u00e9, que je ne serais pas sortie avec lui si je\nne l'eusse pris pour un gentilhomme fort civil et s'il ne m'e\u00fbt fait si\nsouvent la promesse de ne rien tenter qui f\u00fbt ind\u00e9cent. Il s'excusa sur\nle vin qu'il avait bu, et qu'il savait \u00e0 peine ce qu'il faisait et que\ns'il n'en e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi, il n'e\u00fbt point pris avec moi la libert\u00e9\nqu'il avait fait. Il m'assura qu'il n'avait point touch\u00e9 d'autre femme\nque moi depuis son mariage, et que \u00e7'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pour lui une surprise; me\nfit des compliments sur le grand agr\u00e9ment que je lui donnais, et autres\nchoses semblables, et parla si longtemps en cette fa\u00e7on, que je trouvai\nque son animation le menait en somme \u00e0 l'humeur de recommencer. Mais je\nle repris de court; je lui jurai que je n'avais point souffert d'\u00eatre\ntouch\u00e9e par un homme depuis la mort de mon mari, c'est \u00e0 savoir de huit\nans en \u00e7a; il dit qu'il le croyait bien, et ajouta que c'\u00e9tait bien ce\nque madame lui avait laiss\u00e9 entendre, et que c'\u00e9tait son opinion\nl\u00e0-dessus qui lui avait fait d\u00e9sirer de me revoir; et que puisqu'il\navait une fois enfreint la vertu avec moi, et qu'il n'y avait point\ntrouv\u00e9 de f\u00e2cheuses cons\u00e9quences, il pouvait en toute s\u00fbret\u00e9 s'y\naventurer encore; et en somme il en arriva l\u00e0 o\u00f9 j'attendais, qui ne\nsaurait \u00eatre mis sur papier.\nMa vieille gouvernante l'avait bien pr\u00e9vu, autant que moi; elle l'avait\ndonc fait entrer dans une chambre o\u00f9 il n'y avait point de lit, mais qui\ndonnait dans une seconde chambre o\u00f9 il y en avait un; nous nous y\nretir\u00e2mes pour le restant de la nuit; et en somme, apr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes\npass\u00e9 quelque temps ensemble, il se mit au lit et y passa toute la nuit;\nje me retirai, mais revins, toute d\u00e9shabill\u00e9e, avant qu'il f\u00fbt jour, et\ndemeurai \u00e0 coucher avec lui jusqu'au matin.\nQuand il partit, je lui dis que j'esp\u00e9rais qu'il se sentait s\u00fbr de\nn'avoir pas \u00e9t\u00e9 vol\u00e9. Il me dit qu'il \u00e9tait pleinement satisfait\nl\u00e0-dessus, et, mettant la main dans la poche, me donna cinq guin\u00e9es, qui\n\u00e9tait le premier argent que j'eusse gagn\u00e9 en cette fa\u00e7on depuis bien des\nann\u00e9es.\nJe re\u00e7us de lui plusieurs visites semblables; mais il n'en vint jamais\nproprement \u00e0 m'entretenir, ce qui m'aurait plu bien mieux. Mais cette\naffaire eut sa fin, elle aussi; car au bout d'un an environ, je trouvai\nqu'il ne venait plus aussi souvent, et enfin il cessa tout \u00e0 fait, sans\nnul d\u00e9sagr\u00e9ment ou sans me dire adieu; de sorte que l\u00e0 se termina cette\ncourte sc\u00e8ne de vie qui m'apporta peu de chose vraiment, sinon pour me\ndonner plus grand sujet de me repentir.\nDurant tout cet intervalle, je m'\u00e9tais confin\u00e9e la plupart du temps \u00e0 la\nmaison; du moins suffisamment pourvue, je n'avais point fait\nd'aventures, non, de tout le quart d'une ann\u00e9e; mais alors, trouvant que\nle fonds manquait, et, r\u00e9pugnante \u00e0 d\u00e9penser le capital, je me mis \u00e0\nsonger \u00e0 mon vieux m\u00e9tier et \u00e0 regarder autour de moi dans la rue; et\nmon premier pas fut assez heureux.\nJe m'\u00e9tais v\u00eatue d'habits tr\u00e8s pauvres; car, ayant diff\u00e9rentes formes\nsous lesquelles, je paraissais, je portais maintenant une robe d'\u00e9toffe\nordinaire, un tablier bleu et un chapeau de paille; et je me pla\u00e7ai \u00e0 la\nporte de l'h\u00f4tellerie des Trois-Coupes dans Saint-John's Street. Il y\navait plusieurs rouliers qui descendaient d'ordinaire \u00e0 cette\nh\u00f4tellerie, et les coches \u00e0 relais pour Barnet, Totteridge, et autres\nvilles de cette r\u00e9gion, \u00e9taient toujours l\u00e0 dans la rue, le soir, au\nmoment qu'ils se pr\u00e9paraient \u00e0 partir; de sorte que j'\u00e9tais pr\u00eate pour\ntout ce qui se pr\u00e9senterait. Voici ce que je veux dire: beaucoup de gens\nvenaient \u00e0 ces h\u00f4telleries avec des ballots et de petits paquets, et\ndemandaient tels rouliers ou coches qu'il leur fallait, pour les porter\n\u00e0 la campagne; et d'ordinaire il y a devant la porte, des filles, femmes\nde crocheteurs ou servantes, qui attendent pour porter ces paquets pour\nceux qui les y emploient.\nIl arriva assez \u00e9trangement que j'\u00e9tais debout devant le porche de\nl'h\u00f4tellerie et qu'une femme qui se tenait l\u00e0 d\u00e9j\u00e0 avant, et qui \u00e9tait\nla femme d'un crocheteur au service du coche de Barnet, m'ayant\nremarqu\u00e9e, me demanda si j'attendais point aucun des coches; je lui dis\nque oui, que j'attendais ma ma\u00eetresse qui allait venir pour prendre le\ncoche de Barnet; elle me demanda qui \u00e9tait ma ma\u00eetresse, et je lui dis\nle premier nom de dame qui me vint \u00e0 l'esprit, mais il para\u00eet que je\ntombai sur un nom qui \u00e9tait le m\u00eame que celui d'une famille demeurant \u00e0\nHadley, pr\u00e8s de Barnet.\nJe ne lui en dis point davantage, ni elle \u00e0 moi, pendant un bon moment;\nmais d'aventure quelqu'un l'ayant appel\u00e9e \u00e0 une porte un peu plus loin,\nelle me pria, si j'entendais personne demander le coche de Barnet, de\nvenir la chercher \u00e0 cette maison qui, para\u00eet-il, \u00e9tait une maison de\nbi\u00e8re; je lui dis: \u00abOui, bien volontiers\u00bb, et la voil\u00e0 partie.\n\u00c0 peine avait-elle disparu, que voici venir une fille et une enfant\nsuant et soufflant, qui demandent le coche de Barnet. Je r\u00e9pondis tout\nde suite:\n--C'est ici.\n--Est-ce que vous \u00eates au service du coche de Barnet? dit-elle.\n--Oui, mon doux coeur, dis-je, qu'est-ce qu'il vous faut?\n--Je voudrais des places pour deux voyageurs, dit-elle.\n--O\u00f9 sont-ils, mon doux coeur? dis-je.\n--Voici la petite fille, dit-elle; je vous prie de la faire entrer dans\nle coche, et je vais aller chercher ma ma\u00eetresse.\n--H\u00e2tez-vous donc, mon doux coeur, lui dis-je, ou tout sera plein.\nCette fille avait un gros paquet sous le bras; elle mit donc l'enfant\ndans le coche en m\u00eame temps.\n--Vous feriez mieux de poser votre paquet dans le coche en m\u00eame temps.\n--Non, dit-elle, j'ai peur que quelqu'un l'enl\u00e8ve \u00e0 l'enfant.\n--Alors donnez-le-moi, dis-je.\n--Prenez-le donc, dit-elle; et jurez-moi d'y faire bien attention.\n--J'en r\u00e9ponds, dis-je, quand il vaudrait vingt livres.\n--L\u00e0, prenez-le donc, dit-elle, et la voil\u00e0 partie.\nSit\u00f4t que je tins le paquet, et que la fille fut hors de vue, je m'en\nvais vers la maison de bi\u00e8re o\u00f9 \u00e9tait la femme du crocheteur; de sorte\nque si je l'avais rencontr\u00e9e, j'aurais paru seulement venir pour lui\nremettre le paquet et l'appeler \u00e0 ses affaires, comme si je fusse forc\u00e9e\nde partir, ne pouvant l'attendre plus longtemps; mais comme je ne la\nrencontrai pas, je m'en allai, et tournant dans Charterhouse-Lane, je\ntraversai Charterhouse-Yard pour gagner Long-Lane, puis j'entrai dans le\nclos Saint-Barth\u00e9lemy, de l\u00e0 dans Little-Britain, et \u00e0 travers\nBluecoat-Hospital dans Newgate-Street.\nPour emp\u00eacher que je fusse reconnue, je d\u00e9tachai mon tablier bleu, et je\nle roulai autour du paquet qui \u00e9tait envelopp\u00e9 dans un morceau\nd'indienne; j'y roulai aussi mon chapeau de paille et je mis le paquet\nsur ma t\u00eate; et je fis tr\u00e8s bien, car, passant \u00e0 travers\nBluecoat-Hospital, qui rencontrai-je sinon la fille qui m'avait donn\u00e9 \u00e0\ntenir son paquet? Il semble qu'elle s'en all\u00e2t avec sa ma\u00eetresse,\nqu'elle \u00e9tait all\u00e9e chercher, au coche de Barnet.\nJe vis qu'elle \u00e9tait press\u00e9e, et je n'avais point affaire de la retenir;\nde sorte que la voil\u00e0 partie, et j'apportai mon paquet tr\u00e8s\ntranquillement \u00e0 ma gouvernante. Il ne contenait point d'argent, de\nvaisselle plate ou de joyaux; mais un tr\u00e8s bel habit de damas d'Inde,\nune robe et un jupon, une coiffe de dentelle et des manchettes en tr\u00e8s\nbelle dentelle des Flandres, et quelques autres choses telles que j'en\nsavais fort bien la valeur.\nCe n'\u00e9tait pas l\u00e0 vraiment un tour de ma propre invention, mais qui\nm'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 donn\u00e9 par une qui l'avait pratiqu\u00e9 avec succ\u00e8s, et ma\ngouvernante en fut infiniment charm\u00e9e: et vraiment je l'essayai encore \u00e0\nplusieurs reprises, quoique jamais deux fois de suite pr\u00e8s du m\u00eame\nendroit: car la fois suivante je l'essayai dans Whitechapel, juste au\ncoin de Petticoat-Lane, l\u00e0 o\u00f9 se tiennent les coches qui se rendent \u00e0\nStratford et \u00e0 Bow, et dans cette partie de la campagne; et une autre\nfois au Cheval Volant juste \u00e0 l'ext\u00e9rieur de Bishopsgate, l\u00e0 o\u00f9\nremisaient \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque les coches de Cheston, et j'avais toujours la\nbonne chance de m'en aller avec quelque aubaine.\nUne autre fois je me postai devant un magasin pr\u00e8s du bord de l'eau, o\u00f9\nviennent les navires c\u00f4tiers du Nord, tels que de Newcastle-sur-Tyne,\nSunderland et autres lieux. L\u00e0, le magasin \u00e9tant ferm\u00e9, arrive un jeune\nhomme avec une lettre; et il venait chercher une caisse et un panier qui\n\u00e9taient arriv\u00e9s de Newcastle-sur-Tyne. Je lui demandai s'il en avait les\nmarques; il me montre donc la lettre, en vertu de laquelle il devait\nr\u00e9clamer l'envoi, et qui donnait une liste du contenu; la caisse \u00e9tait\npleine de linge, et le panier de verreries. Je lus la lettre et pris\ngarde de voir le nom, et les marques, et le nom de la personne qui avait\nenvoy\u00e9 les marchandises, et le nom de la personne \u00e0 qui elles \u00e9taient\nexp\u00e9di\u00e9es; puis je priai le jeune homme de revenir le lendemain matin,\nle garde-magasin ne devant point \u00eatre l\u00e0 de toute la nuit.\nMe voil\u00e0 vite partie \u00e9crire une lettre de M, John Richardson de\nNewcastle \u00e0 son cher cousin Jemmy Cole, \u00e0 Londres, dans laquelle il\nl'avisait qu'il lui avait exp\u00e9di\u00e9 par tel navire (car je me rappelais\ntous les d\u00e9tails \u00e0 un cheveu pr\u00e8s) tant de pi\u00e8ces de gros linge et tant\nd'aunes de toile de Hollande, et ainsi de suite, dans une caisse, et un\npanier de verrerie de cristal de la verrerie de M. Henzill; et que la\ncaisse \u00e9tait marqu\u00e9e L. C. N\u00b0 1 et que le panier portait l'adresse sur\nune \u00e9tiquette attach\u00e9e \u00e0 la corde.\nEnviron une heure apr\u00e8s je vins au magasin, o\u00f9 je trouvai le garde, et\nme fis d\u00e9livrer les marchandises sans le moindre scrupule; la valeur du\nlinge \u00e9tant d'\u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s 22\u00a3.\nJe pourrais remplir tout ce discours de la vari\u00e9t\u00e9 de telles aventures\nque l'invention journali\u00e8re me sugg\u00e9rait, et que je menais avec la plus\nextr\u00eame adresse, et toujours avec succ\u00e8s.\n\u00c0 la fin, ainsi qu'on dit, tant va la cruche \u00e0 l'eau qu'\u00e0 la fin elle se\ncasse, je tombai en quelques embarras, qui, malgr\u00e9 qu'ils ne pussent me\ntoucher fatalement, pourtant me firent conna\u00eetre, chose qui n'\u00e9tait\nseconde en d\u00e9sagr\u00e9ment pour moi qu'au jugement de culpabilit\u00e9 m\u00eame.\nJ'avais adopt\u00e9 pour d\u00e9guisement l'habit d'une veuve; c'\u00e9tait sans avoir\nen vue aucun dessein proprement dit, mais seulement afin d'attendre ce\nqui pouvait se pr\u00e9senter, ainsi que je faisais souvent. Il arriva que\ntandis que je passais le long d'une rue de Covent-garden, il se fit un\ngrand cri d'\u00abau voleur! au voleur!\u00bb Quelques artistes avaient, para\u00eet-il\njou\u00e9 le tour \u00e0 un boutiquier, et comme elles \u00e9taient poursuivies, les\nunes fuyaient d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9, les autres de l'autre; et l'une d'elles \u00e9tait,\ndisait-on, habill\u00e9e en veuve avec des v\u00eatements de deuil; sur quoi la\nfoule s'amassa autour de moi, et les uns dirent que j'\u00e9tais la personne,\net d'autres que non. Imm\u00e9diatement survint un des compagnons du mercier,\net il jura tout haut que c'\u00e9tait moi la personne, et ainsi me saisit;\ntoutefois quand j'eus \u00e9t\u00e9 ramen\u00e9e par la foule \u00e0 la boutique du mercier,\nle ma\u00eetre de la maison dit franchement que ce n'\u00e9tait pas moi la femme,\net voulut me faire l\u00e2cher sur-le-champ, mais un autre gar\u00e7on dit\ngravement: \u00abAttendez, je vous prie, que M... (c'\u00e9tait le compagnon) soit\nrevenu, car il la conna\u00eet\u00bb; de sorte qu'on me garda pr\u00e8s d'une\ndemi-heure. On avait fait venir un commissaire, et il se tenait dans la\nboutique pour me servir de ge\u00f4lier; en causant avec le commissaire, je\nlui demandai o\u00f9 il demeurait et le m\u00e9tier qu'il faisait; cet homme,\nn'appr\u00e9hendant pas le moins du monde ce qui survint ensuite, me dit\nsur-le-champ son nom, et l'endroit o\u00f9 il vivait; et me dit, par mani\u00e8re\nde plaisanterie, que je serais bien s\u00fbre d'entendre son nom quand on me\nm\u00e8nerait \u00e0 Old Bailey.\nLes domestiques de m\u00eame me trait\u00e8rent avec effronterie, et on eut toutes\nles peines du monde \u00e0 leur faire \u00f4ter les mains de dessus moi; le\nma\u00eetre, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, se montra plus civil, mais il ne voulut point me\nl\u00e2cher, quoiqu'il conv\u00eent que je n'avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 dans sa boutique.\nJe commen\u00e7ai de relever la t\u00eate avec assez d'insolence, et lui dis que\nj'esp\u00e9rais qu'il ne serait point surpris si je r\u00e9clamais satisfaction de\nses offenses; et que je le priais de faire chercher mes amis afin que\njustice me f\u00fbt rendue. Non, dit-il, c'\u00e9tait une chose dont il ne pouvait\nme donner la libert\u00e9; je la pourrais demander quand je viendrais devant\nla justice de paix; et, puisqu'il voyait que je le mena\u00e7ais, il ferait\nbonne garde sur moi cependant, et veillerait \u00e0 ce que je fusse mise \u00e0\nl'ombre dans Newgate. Je lui dis que c'\u00e9tait son temps maintenant, mais\nque ce serait le mien tout \u00e0 l'heure, et je gouvernai ma col\u00e8re autant\nqu'il me f\u00fbt possible: pourtant je parlai au commissaire afin qu'il\nappel\u00e2t un commissionnaire, ce qu'il fit, et puis je demandai plume,\nencre et papier, mais ils ne voulurent point m'en donner. Je demandai au\ncommissionnaire son nom, et o\u00f9 il demeurait, et le pauvre homme me le\ndit bien volontiers; je le priai de remarquer et de se rappeler la\nmani\u00e8re dont on me traitait l\u00e0; qu'il voyait qu'on m'y d\u00e9tenait par\nforce; je lui dis que j'aurais besoin de lui dans un autre endroit, et\nqu'il n'en serait pas plus mal s'il y savait parler. Le commissionnaire\nme dit qu'il me servirait de tout son coeur.\n--Mais, madame, dit-il, souffrez que je les entende refuser de vous\nmettre en libert\u00e9, afin que je puisse parler d'autant plus clairement.\nL\u00e0-dessus je m'adressai \u00e0 haute voix au ma\u00eetre de la boutique et je lui\ndis:\n--Monsieur, vous savez en \u00e2me et conscience que je ne suis pas la\npersonne que vous cherchez, et que je ne suis pas venue dans votre\nboutique tout \u00e0 l'heure; je demande donc que vous ne me d\u00e9teniez pas ici\nplus longtemps ou que vous me disiez les raisons que vous avez pour\nm'arr\u00eater.\nCet homme l\u00e0-dessus devint plus arrogant qu'avant, et dit qu'il ne\nferait ni l'un ni l'autre jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il le juge\u00e2t bon.\n--Fort bien, dis-je au commissionnaire et au commissaire, vous aurez\nl'obligeance de vous souvenir de ces paroles, messieurs, une autre fois.\nLe commissionnaire dit: \u00abOui, madame\u00bb; et la chose commen\u00e7a de d\u00e9plaire\nau commissaire qui s'effor\u00e7a de persuader au mercier de me cong\u00e9dier et\nde me laisser aller, puisque, ainsi qu'il disait, il convenait que je\nn'\u00e9tais point la personne.\n--Mon bon monsieur, dit le mercier goguenardant, \u00eates-vous juge de paix\nou commissaire? Je l'ai remise entre vos mains; faites votre service, je\nvous prie.\nLe commissaire lui dit, un peu piqu\u00e9, mais avec assez d'honn\u00eatet\u00e9:\n--Je connais mon service, et ce que je suis, monsieur: je doute que vous\nsachiez parfaitement ce que vous faites \u00e0 cette heure.\nIls eurent encore d'autres paroles acides, et cependant les compagnons,\nimpudents et malhonn\u00eates au dernier point me trait\u00e8rent avec barbarie;\net l'un d'eux, le m\u00eame qui m'avait saisie d'abord, pr\u00e9tendit qu'il\nvoulait me fouiller et commen\u00e7a de mettre les mains sur moi. Je lui\ncrachai au visage, j'appelai \u00e0 haute voix le commissaire, et le priai de\nnoter soigneusement la fa\u00e7on dont on me traitait, \u00abet je vous prie,\nmonsieur le commissaire, dis-je, de demander le nom de ce coquin\u00bb, et\nj'indiquai l'homme. Le commissaire lui infligea une semonce polie, lui\ndit qu'il ne savait ce qu'il faisait, puisqu'il voyait que son ma\u00eetre\nreconnaissait que je n'\u00e9tais point la personne; \u00abet, dit le commissaire,\nje crains bien que votre ma\u00eetre ne nous mette lui et moi tout ensemble\ndans la peine, si cette dame vient \u00e0 prouver qui elle est, o\u00f9 elle\n\u00e9tait, et qu'il paraisse clairement que ce n'est pas la femme que vous\npr\u00e9tendez\u00bb.\n--Sacredieu, dit encore l'homme, avec une insolente face endurcie, c'est\nbien la dame, n'ayez crainte; je jure que c'est la m\u00eame personne qui\n\u00e9tait dans la boutique et je lui ai mis dans la main m\u00eame la pi\u00e8ce de\nsatin qui est perdue; vous en saurez davantage quand M. William et M.\nAnthony (c'\u00e9taient d'autres compagnons) vont entrer; ils la\nreconna\u00eetront aussi bien que moi.\nJuste au moment o\u00f9 l'impudent coquin parlait ainsi au commissaire, voici\nque rentrent M. William et M. Anthony, comme il les appelait, et un\nramas de populace avec eux, qui amenaient la vraie veuve qu'on\npr\u00e9tendait que j'\u00e9tais; et ils arriv\u00e8rent suant et soufflant dans la\nboutique; et tra\u00eenant la pauvre cr\u00e9ature avec infiniment de triomphe et\nde la mani\u00e8re la plus sanguinaire jusqu'\u00e0 leur ma\u00eetre, qui \u00e9tait dans\nl'arri\u00e8re-boutique, ils s'\u00e9cri\u00e8rent \u00e0 haute voix:\n--Voil\u00e0 la veuve, monsieur! Nous l'avons attrap\u00e9e \u00e0 la fin!\n--Que voulez-vous dire? dit le ma\u00eetre, mais nous l'avons d\u00e9j\u00e0; la voil\u00e0\nassise l\u00e0-bas; et M... affirme qu'il peut jurer que c'est elle.\nL'autre homme, qu'on appelait M. Anthony, r\u00e9pliqua:\n--M... peut dire ce qu'il lui pla\u00eet, et jurer ce qui lui pla\u00eet; mais\nvoil\u00e0 la femme, et voil\u00e0 ce qui reste du satin qu'elle a vol\u00e9; je l'ai\ntir\u00e9 de dessous ses jupes avec ma propre main.\nJe commen\u00e7ai maintenant \u00e0 prendre un peu de coeur, mais souris et ne dis\nrien; le ma\u00eetre devint p\u00e2le; le commissaire se retourna et me regarda.\n--Allez, monsieur le commissaire, dis-je, laissez donc faire, allez!\nLe cas \u00e9tait clair et ne pouvait \u00eatre ni\u00e9, de sorte qu'on remit entre\nles mains du commissaire la v\u00e9ritable voleuse, et le mercier me dit fort\ncivilement qu'il \u00e9tait f\u00e2ch\u00e9 de l'erreur, et qu'il esp\u00e9rait que je ne la\nprendrais point en mauvaise part; qu'on leur jouait tous les jours tant\nde tours de cette nature, qu'il ne fallait point les bl\u00e2mer s'ils\nmettaient autant d'exactitude \u00e0 se rendre justice.\n--Ne point la prendre en mauvaise part, monsieur! dis-je, et comment la\npourrais-je prendre en bonne? Si vous m'eussiez rel\u00e2ch\u00e9e, quand votre\ninsolent maraud m'eut saisie dans la rue, tra\u00een\u00e9e jusqu'ici, et que vous\nreconn\u00fbtes vous-m\u00eame que je n'\u00e9tais pas la personne, j'aurais oubli\u00e9\nl'affront, et je ne l'aurais nullement pris en mauvaise part, en\nconsid\u00e9ration des nombreux mauvais tours que je crois qu'on vous joue\nfort souvent; mais la mani\u00e8re dont vous m'avez trait\u00e9e depuis ne se\nsaurait supporter non plus surtout que celle de votre valet; il faut que\nj'en aie r\u00e9paration et je l'obtiendrai.\nAlors il commen\u00e7a de parlementer avec moi, dit qu'il me donnerait toute\nsatisfaction raisonnable, et il aurait bien voulu que je lui dise ce que\nc'\u00e9tait que j'exigeais, je lui dis que je ne voulais pas \u00eatre mon propre\njuge, que la loi d\u00e9ciderait pour moi, et que puisque je devais \u00eatre\nmen\u00e9e devant un magistrat, je lui ferais entendre l\u00e0 ce que j'avais \u00e0\ndire. Il me dit qu'il n'y avait point d'occasion d'aller devant la\njustice, \u00e0 cette heure; que j'\u00e9tais en libert\u00e9 d'aller o\u00f9 il me ferait\nplaisir, et, s'adressant au commissaire, lui dit qu'il pouvait me\nlaisser aller, puisque j'\u00e9tais d\u00e9charg\u00e9e. Le commissaire lui r\u00e9pondit\ntranquillement.\n--Monsieur, vous m'avez demand\u00e9 tout \u00e0 l'heure si j'\u00e9tais commissaire ou\njuge de paix; vous m'avez ordonn\u00e9 de faire mon service; et vous m'avez\nmand\u00e9 cette dame comme prisonni\u00e8re; \u00e0 cette heure, monsieur, je vois que\nvous n'entendez point mon service, puisque vous voudriez faire de moi un\njuge vraiment; mais je suis oblig\u00e9 de vous dire que cela n'est point en\nmon pouvoir; j'ai droit de garder un prisonnier quand on me l'a mand\u00e9,\nmais c'est la loi et le magistrat seulement, qui peuvent d\u00e9charger ce\nprisonnier: par ainsi, vous vous trompez, monsieur, il faut que je\nl'emm\u00e8ne maintenant devant un juge, que cela vous plaise ou non.\nLe mercier d'abord le prit de tr\u00e8s haut avec le commissaire; mais comme\nil se trouva que ce commissaire n'\u00e9tait point un officier \u00e0 gages, mais\nune bonne esp\u00e8ce d'homme bien solide (je crois qu'il \u00e9tait grainetier),\net de bon sens, il ne voulut pas d\u00e9mordre de son affaire, et refusa de\nme d\u00e9charger sans m'avoir men\u00e9e devant un juge de paix, et j'y insistai\naussi. Quand le mercier vit cela:\n--Eh bien, dit-il au commissaire, menez-la donc o\u00f9 il vous plaira; je\nn'ai rien \u00e0 lui dire.\n--Mais, monsieur, dit le commissaire, j'esp\u00e8re bien que vous viendrez\navec nous, puisque c'est vous qui me l'avez mand\u00e9e.\n--Non, par ma foi, dit le mercier; je vous r\u00e9p\u00e8te que je n'ai rien \u00e0 lui\ndire.\n--Pardonnez-moi, monsieur, mais il le faut, dit le commissaire: je vous\nen prie, dans votre propre int\u00e9r\u00eat; le juge ne peut rien faire sans\nvous.\n--S'il vous pla\u00eet, mon ami, dit le mercier, allez \u00e0 vos affaires; je\nvous dis encore une fois que je n'ai rien \u00e0 dire \u00e0 cette dame; au nom du\nroi je vous ordonne de la rel\u00e2cher.\n--Monsieur, dit le commissaire, je vois bien que vous ne savez point ce\nque c'est que d'\u00eatre commissaire; je vous supplie de ne pas m'obliger \u00e0\nvous rudoyer.\n--Voil\u00e0 qui est inutile, dit le mercier, car vous me rudoyez assez d\u00e9j\u00e0.\n--Non, monsieur, dit le commissaire, je ne vous rudoie point; vous avez\nenfreint la paix en menant une honn\u00eate femme hors de la rue, o\u00f9 elle\n\u00e9tait \u00e0 ses affaires, en la confinant dans votre boutique, et en la\nfaisant maltraiter ici par vos valets; et \u00e0 cette heure vous dites que\nje vous rudoie? Je crois montrer beaucoup de civilit\u00e9 vraiment en ne\nvous ordonnant pas de m'accompagner, au nom du roi, requ\u00e9rant tout homme\nque je verrais passer votre porte de me pr\u00eater aide et assistance pour\nvous emmener par force; voil\u00e0 ce que j'ai pouvoir de faire, et vous ne\nl'ignorez point; pourtant je m'en abstiens et une fois encore je vous\nprie de venir avec moi.\nEh bien, malgr\u00e9 tout ce discours il refusa et parla grossi\u00e8rement au\ncommissaire. Toutefois le commissaire ne changea point d'humeur et ne se\nlaissa pas irriter; et alors je m'entremis et je dis:\n--Allez, monsieur le commissaire, laissez-lui la paix; je trouverai des\nmoyens assez pour l'amener devant un magistrat, n'ayez crainte; mais\nvoil\u00e0 cet individu, dis-je: c'est l'homme qui m'a saisie au moment que\nje passais innocemment dans la rue, et vous \u00eates t\u00e9moin de sa violence \u00e0\nmon endroit depuis; permettez-moi je vous prie, de vous le mander afin\nque vous l'emmeniez devant un juge.\n--Oui, madame, dit le commissaire.\nEt se tournant vers l'homme:\n--Allons, mon jeune monsieur, dit-il au compagnon, il faut venir avec\nnous; j'esp\u00e8re que vous n'\u00eates pas, comme votre ma\u00eetre, au-dessus du\npouvoir du commissaire.\nCet homme prit un air de voleur condamn\u00e9, et se recula, puis regarda son\nma\u00eetre, comme s'il e\u00fbt pu l'aider; et l'autre comme un sot l'encouragea\n\u00e0 l'insolence; et lui, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, r\u00e9sista au commissaire, et le repoussa\nde toutes ses forces au moment qu'il allait pour le saisir; d'o\u00f9 le\ncommissaire le renversa par terre sur le coup, et appela \u00e0 l'aide:\nimm\u00e9diatement la boutique fut pleine de gens et le commissaire saisit\nma\u00eetre, compagnon et tous les valets.\nLa premi\u00e8re mauvaise cons\u00e9quence de ce tumulte fut que la femme qui\n\u00e9tait vraiment la voleuse se sauva et se perdit dans la foule, ainsi que\ndeux autres qu'ils avaient arr\u00eat\u00e9s aussi: ceux-l\u00e0 \u00e9taient-ils vraiment\ncoupables ou non, je n'en puis rien dire.\nCependant quelques-uns de ses voisins \u00e9tant entr\u00e9s, et voyant comment\nallaient les choses, s'\u00e9taient efforc\u00e9s de ramener le mercier dans son\nsens; et il commen\u00e7a d'\u00eatre convaincu qu'il \u00e9tait dans son tort; de\nsorte qu'enfin nous all\u00e2mes tous bien tranquillement devant le juge avec\nune queue d'environ cinq cents personnes sur nos talons; et tout le long\nde la route j'entendais les gens qui demandaient: \u00abQu'est-ce qu'il y a?\u00bb\net d'autres qui r\u00e9pondaient: \u00abC'est un mercier qui avait arr\u00eat\u00e9 une dame\n\u00e0 la place d'une voleuse; et apr\u00e8s, la voleuse a \u00e9t\u00e9 prise, et\nmaintenant c'est la dame qui a fait prendre le mercier pour l'amener\ndevant la justice.\u00bb Ceci charmait \u00e9trangement la populace, et la foule\naugmentait \u00e0 vue d'oeil, et ils criaient pendant que nous marchions: \u00abO\u00f9\nest-il, le coquin? O\u00f9 est-il, le mercier?\u00bb et particuli\u00e8rement les\nfemmes; puis, quand elles le voyaient, elles s'\u00e9criaient: \u00abLe voil\u00e0! le\nvoil\u00e0!\u00bb et tous les moments il lui arrivait un bon paquet de boue; et\nainsi nous march\u00e2mes assez longtemps; jusqu'enfin le mercier crut bon de\nprier le commissaire d'appeler un carrosse pour le prot\u00e9ger de la\ncanaille; si bien que nous f\u00eemes le reste de la route en voiture, le\ncommissaire et moi, et le mercier et le compagnon.\nQuand nous arriv\u00e2mes devant le juge, qui \u00e9tait un ancien gentilhomme de\nBloomsbury, le commissaire ayant d'abord sommairement rendu compte de\nl'affaire, le juge me pria de parler, et d'articuler ce que j'avais \u00e0\ndire, et d'abord il me demanda mon nom, que j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s r\u00e9pugnante \u00e0\ndonner, mais il n'y avait point de rem\u00e8de; de sorte que je lui dis que\nmon nom \u00e9tait Mary Flanders; que j'\u00e9tais veuve, mon mari, qui \u00e9tait\ncapitaine marin, \u00e9tant mort pendant un voyage en Virginie; et d'autres\ncirconstances que j'ajoutai et auxquelles il ne pourrait jamais\ncontredire, et que je logeais \u00e0 pr\u00e9sent en ville, avec telle personne,\nnommant ma gouvernante; mais que je me pr\u00e9parais \u00e0 partir pour\nl'Am\u00e9rique o\u00f9 se trouvaient les effets de mon mari; et que j'allais ce\njour-l\u00e0 pour m'acheter des v\u00eatements afin de m'habiller en demi-deuil,\nmais que je n'\u00e9tais encore entr\u00e9e dans aucune boutique, lorsque cet\nindividu, d\u00e9signant le compagnon du mercier, s'\u00e9tait ru\u00e9 tout courant\nsur moi avec tant de furie que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 bien effray\u00e9e, et m'avait\nemmen\u00e9e \u00e0 la boutique de son ma\u00eetre; o\u00f9, malgr\u00e9 que son ma\u00eetre reconn\u00fbt\nque je n'\u00e9tais point la personne, il n'avait pas voulu me rel\u00e2cher, mais\nm'avait mand\u00e9e \u00e0 un commissaire.\nPuis je continuai \u00e0 dire la fa\u00e7on en laquelle les compagnons merciers\nm'avaient trait\u00e9e; comment ils n'avaient point voulu souffrir que\nj'envoyasse chercher aucun de mes amis; comment ensuite, ils avaient\ntrouv\u00e9 la vraie voleuse, sur laquelle ils avaient retrouv\u00e9 les\nmarchandises vol\u00e9es, et tous les d\u00e9tails comme il a \u00e9t\u00e9 dit.\nPuis le commissaire exposa son cas; son dialogue avec le mercier au\nsujet de ma mise en libert\u00e9, et enfin le refus qu'avait fait son valet\nde l'accompagner, quand je le lui avais mand\u00e9 et les encouragements que\nson ma\u00eetre lui avait donn\u00e9s l\u00e0-dessus; comment enfin il avait frapp\u00e9 le\ncommissaire et tout le reste ainsi que je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 racont\u00e9.\nLe juge ensuite \u00e9couta le mercier et son compagnon. Le mercier vraiment\nfit une longue harangue sur la grande perte qu'ils subissent\njournellement par les filous et les voleurs; qu'il leur \u00e9tait facile de\nse tromper et que lorsqu'il avait d\u00e9couvert son erreur, il avait voulu\nme rel\u00e2cher, etc., comme ci-dessus. Quant au compagnon, il eut bien peu\n\u00e0 dire, sinon qu'il pr\u00e9tendit que les autres lui avaient dit que j'\u00e9tais\nvraiment la personne.\nSur le tout le juge me dit d'abord fort civilement que j'\u00e9tais\nd\u00e9charg\u00e9e; qu'il \u00e9tait bien f\u00e2ch\u00e9 que le compagnon du mercier eut mis si\npeu de discr\u00e9tion dans l'ardeur de sa poursuite que de prendre une\npersonne innocente pour une coupable; que s'il n'avait point eu\nl'injustice de me retenir ensuite, il \u00e9tait persuad\u00e9 que j'eusse\npardonn\u00e9 le premier affront; que toutefois il n'\u00e9tait pas en son pouvoir\nde me donner r\u00e9paration autrement que par une r\u00e9primande publique qu'il\nleur adresserait, ce qu'il allait faire; mais qu'il supposait que\nj'userais de telles m\u00e9thodes que m'indiquait la loi; que cependant il\nallait le lier par serment.\nMais pour ce qui est de l'infraction \u00e0 la paix commise par le compagnon,\nil me dit qu'il me donnerait satisfaction l\u00e0-dessus, puisqu'il\nl'enverrait \u00e0 Newgate pour avoir assailli le commissaire ainsi que pour\nm'avoir assaillie moi-m\u00eame.\nEn effet, il envoya cet homme \u00e0 Newgate pour cet assaut, et son ma\u00eetre\ndonna caution, et puis nous part\u00eemes; mais j'eus la satisfaction de voir\nla foule les attendre tous deux, comme ils sortaient, huant et jetant\ndes pierres et de la boue dans les carrosses o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient mont\u00e9s; et\npuis je rentrai chez moi.\nApr\u00e8s cette bousculade, voici que je rentre \u00e0 la maison et que je\nraconte l'affaire \u00e0 ma gouvernante et elle se met \u00e0 me rire \u00e0 la figure.\n--Qu'est-ce qui vous donna tant de gaiet\u00e9? dis-je. Il n'y a pas lieu de\nrire si fort de cette histoire que vous vous l'imaginez; je vous assure\nque j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 bien secou\u00e9e et effray\u00e9e aussi par une bande de vilains\ncoquins.\n--Pourquoi je ris? dit ma gouvernante. Je ris, mon enfant, de la chance\nque tu as; voil\u00e0 un coup qui sera la meilleure aubaine que tu aies faite\nde ta vie, si tu sais t'y prendre. Je te promets que tu feras payer au\nmercier 500\u00a3 de dommages-int\u00e9r\u00eats sans compter ce que tu tireras du\ncompagnon.\nJ'avais d'autres pens\u00e9es l\u00e0-dessus qu'elle; et surtout \u00e0 cause que\nj'avais donn\u00e9 mon nom au juge de paix, et je savais que mon nom \u00e9tait si\nbien connu parmi les gens de Hick's Hall, Old Bailey, et autres lieux\nsemblables, que si cette cause venait \u00e0 \u00eatre jug\u00e9e publiquement, et\nqu'on e\u00fbt l'id\u00e9e de faire enqu\u00eate sur mon nom, aucune cour ne\nm'accorderait de dommages, ayant la r\u00e9putation d'une personne de tel\ncaract\u00e8re. Cependant je fus oblig\u00e9e de commencer un proc\u00e8s en forme, et\nen cons\u00e9quence ma gouvernante me d\u00e9couvrit un homme de confiance pour le\nmener, \u00e9tant un avou\u00e9 qui faisait de tr\u00e8s bonnes affaires et qui avait\nbonne r\u00e9putation; en quoi elle eut certainement raison; car si elle e\u00fbt\nemploy\u00e9 quelque aigrefin de chicane, ou un homme point connu, je\nn'aurais obtenu que bien peu; au lieu qu'il en co\u00fbta finalement au\nmercier 200\u00a3 et plus, avec un souper qu'il fut forc\u00e9 de nous offrir\npar-dessus le march\u00e9, \u00e0 ma gouvernante, \u00e0 l'avocat et \u00e0 moi.\nCe ne fut pas longtemps apr\u00e8s que l'affaire avec le mercier fut arrang\u00e9e\nque je sortis dans un \u00e9quipage bien diff\u00e9rent de tous ceux o\u00f9 j'avais\nparu avant. Je m'habillai, comme une mendiante, des haillons les plus\ngrossiers et les plus m\u00e9prisables que je pus trouver, et j'errai \u00e7\u00e0 et\nl\u00e0, \u00e9piant et guettant \u00e0 toutes les portes et fen\u00eatres que j'approchai;\net en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 j'\u00e9tais en une telle condition maintenant que je savais\naussi mal m'y maintenir que jamais je fis en aucune. J'avais une horreur\nnaturelle de la salet\u00e9 et des haillons; j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9lev\u00e9e nettement et\nstrictement et ne pouvais point \u00eatre autre en quelque \u00e9tat que je fusse,\nde sorte que ce me fut le d\u00e9guisement le plus d\u00e9plaisant que jamais je\nportai. Je me dis tout \u00e0 l'heure que je n'y pourrais rien profiter, car\nc'\u00e9tait un habit qui faisait fuir et que tout le monde redoutait, et je\npensai que chacun me regard\u00e2t comme s'il e\u00fbt peur que je m'approchasse,\nde crainte que je ne lui \u00f4tasse quelque chose ou peur de m'approcher de\ncrainte que rien de moi ne pass\u00e2t sur lui. J'errai tout le soir la\npremi\u00e8re fois que je sortis et je ne fis rien et je rentrai \u00e0 la maison,\nmouill\u00e9e, boueuse et lasse; toutefois je ressortis la nuit suivante et\nalors je rencontrai une petite aventure qui pensa me co\u00fbter cher. Comme\nje me tenais \u00e0 la porte d'une taverne, voici venir un gentilhomme \u00e0\ncheval qui descend \u00e0 la porte et, voulant entrer dans la taverne, il\nappelle un des gar\u00e7ons pour lui tenir son cheval. Il demeura assez\nlongtemps dans la taverne et le gar\u00e7on entendit son ma\u00eetre qui\nl'appelait, et pensant qu'il f\u00fbt f\u00e2ch\u00e9 et me voyant debout pr\u00e8s de lui,\nm'appela:\n--Tenez, bonne femme, dit-il, gardez ce cheval un instant tandis que\nj'entre; si le gentilhomme revient, il vous donnera quelque chose.\n--Oui, dis-je et je prends le cheval et l'emm\u00e8ne tranquillement et le\nconduis \u00e0 ma gouvernante.\n\u00c7'aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 l\u00e0 une aubaine pour ceux qui s'y fussent entendus, mais\njamais pauvre voleur ne f\u00fbt plus embarrass\u00e9 de savoir ce qu'il fallait\nfaire de son vol, car lorsque je rentrai, ma gouvernante fut toute\nconfondue, et aucune de nous ne savait ce qu'il fallait faite de cette\nb\u00eate: l'envoyer \u00e0 une \u00e9table \u00e9tait insens\u00e9, car il \u00e9tait certain qu'avis\nen serait donn\u00e9 dans la gazette avec la description du cheval, de sorte\nque nous n'oserions pas aller le reprendre.\nTout le rem\u00e8de que nous trouv\u00e2mes \u00e0 cette malheureuse aventure fut de\nmener le cheval dans une h\u00f4tellerie et d'envoyer un billet par un\ncommissaire \u00e0 la taverne pour dire que le cheval du gentilhomme qui\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 perdu \u00e0 telle heure se trouvait dans telle taverne et qu'on\npourrait l'y venir chercher, que la pauvre femme qui le tenait l'ayant\nmen\u00e9 par la rue et incapable de le reconduire l'avait laiss\u00e9 l\u00e0. Nous\naurions pu attendre que le propri\u00e9taire e\u00fbt fait publier et offrir une\nr\u00e9compense: mais nous n'os\u00e2mes pas nous aventurer \u00e0 la recevoir.\nCe fut donc l\u00e0 un vol et point un vol, car peu de chose y fut perdu et\nrien n'y fut gagn\u00e9, et je me sentis exc\u00e9d\u00e9e de sortir en haillons de\nmendiante. Cela ne faisait point du tout l'affaire et d'ailleurs j'en\ntirai des pressentiments mena\u00e7ants.\nTandis que j'\u00e9tais en ce d\u00e9guisement, je rencontrai une soci\u00e9t\u00e9 de gens\nde la pire esp\u00e8ce que j'aie jamais fr\u00e9quent\u00e9e, et je vins \u00e0 conna\u00eetre un\npeu leurs fa\u00e7ons. C'\u00e9taient des faux-monnayeurs, et ils me firent de\ntr\u00e8s bonnes offres pour ce qui \u00e9tait du profit, mais la partie o\u00f9 ils\nvoulaient que je m'embarquasse \u00e9tait la plus dangereuse, je veux dire le\nfa\u00e7onnage du faux-coin, comme ils l'appellent, ou si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 prise,\nj'eusse rencontr\u00e9 mort certaine, mort au poteau, dis-je; j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9\nbr\u00fbl\u00e9e \u00e0 mort, attach\u00e9e au poteau: si bien que, malgr\u00e9 qu'en apparence\nje ne fusse qu'une mendiante et qu'ils m'eussent promis des montagnes\nd'or et d'argent pour m'attirer, pourtant je n'y voulus rien faire; il\nest vrai que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 r\u00e9ellement une mendiante ou d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e ainsi\nque lorsque je d\u00e9butai, je me fusse peut-\u00eatre jointe \u00e0 eux car se\nsoucie-t-on de mourir quand on ne sait point comment vivre; mais \u00e0\npr\u00e9sent telle n'\u00e9tait pas ma condition, au moins ne voulais-je point\ncourir de si terribles risques; d'ailleurs la seule pens\u00e9e d'\u00eatre br\u00fbl\u00e9e\nau poteau jetait la terreur jusque dans mon \u00e2me, me gelait le sang et me\ndonnait les vapeurs \u00e0 un tel degr\u00e9 que je n'y pouvais penser sans\ntrembler.\nCeci mit fin en m\u00eame temps \u00e0 mon d\u00e9guisement, car malgr\u00e9 que leur offre\nme d\u00e9pl\u00fbt, pourtant je n'osai leur dire, mais parus m'y complaire et\npromis de les revoir. Mais je n'osai jamais aller les retrouver, car si\nje les eusse vus sans accepter, et malgr\u00e9 que j'eusse refus\u00e9 avec les\nplus grandes assurances de secret qui fussent au monde, ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\nbien pr\u00e8s de m'assassiner pour \u00eatre s\u00fbrs de leur affaire et avoir de la\ntranquillit\u00e9, comme ils disent; quelle sorte de tranquillit\u00e9, ceux-l\u00e0 le\njugeront le mieux qui entendent comment des gens peuvent \u00eatre\ntranquilles qui en assassinent d'autres pour \u00e9chapper au danger.\nMais enfin, je rencontrai une femme qui m'avait souvent dit les\naventures qu'elle faisait et avec succ\u00e8s, sur le bord de l'eau, et je me\njoignais \u00e0 elle, et nous men\u00e2mes assez bien nos affaires. Un jour nous\nv\u00eenmes parmi des Hollandais \u00e0 Sainte-Catherine, o\u00f9 nous all\u00e2mes sous\ncouleur d'acheter des effets qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s secr\u00e8tement. Je\nfus deux ou trois fois en une maison o\u00f9 nous v\u00eemes bonne quantit\u00e9 de\nmarchandises prohib\u00e9es, et une fois ma camarade emporta trois pi\u00e8ces de\nsoie noire de Hollande, qui se trouv\u00e8rent de bonne prise, et j'en eus ma\npart; mais dans toutes les excursions que je tentai seule, je ne pus\ntrouver l'occasion de rien faire, si bien que j'abandonnai la partie,\ncar on m'y avait vue si souvent qu'on commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se douter de quelque\nchose.\nVoil\u00e0 qui me d\u00e9concerta un peu, et je r\u00e9solus de me pousser de c\u00f4t\u00e9 ou\nd'autre, car je n'\u00e9tais point accoutum\u00e9e \u00e0 rentrer si souvent sans\naubaine, de sorte que le lendemain je pris de beaux habits et m'en allai\n\u00e0 l'autre bout de la ville. Je passai \u00e0 travers l'Exchange dans le\nStrand, mais n'avais point d'id\u00e9e d'y rien trouver, quand soudain je vis\nun grand attroupement, et tout le monde, boutiquiers autant que les\nautres, debout et regardant du m\u00eame c\u00f4t\u00e9; et qu'\u00e9tait-ce, sinon quelque\ngrande duchesse qui entrait dans l'Exchange, et on disait que la reine\nallait venir. Je me portai tout pr\u00e8s du c\u00f4t\u00e9 d'une boutique, le dos\ntourn\u00e9 au comptoir comme pour laisser passer la foule, quand, tenant les\nyeux sur un paquet de dentelles que le boutiquier montrait \u00e0 des dames\nqui se trouvaient pr\u00e8s de moi, le boutiquier et sa servante se\ntrouv\u00e8rent si occup\u00e9s \u00e0 regarder pour voir qui allait venir et dans\nquelle boutique on entrerait, que je trouvai moyen de glisser un paquet\nde dentelles dans ma poche et de l'emporter tout net, si bien que la\nmodiste paya assez cher pour avoir bay\u00e9 \u00e0 la reine.\nJe m'\u00e9cartai de la boutique comme repouss\u00e9e par la presse; et me m\u00ealant\n\u00e0 la foule, je sortis \u00e0 l'autre porte de l'Exchange et ainsi d\u00e9campai\navant qu'on s'aper\u00e7\u00fbt que la dentelle avait disparu, et \u00e0 cause que je\nne voulais pas \u00eatre suivie, j'appelai un carrosse et m'y enfermai.\nJ'avais \u00e0 peine ferm\u00e9 les porti\u00e8res du carrosse que je vis la fille du\nmarchand de modes et cinq ou six autres qui s'en allaient en courant\ndans la rue et qui criaient comme en frayeur. Elles ne criaient pas \u00abau\nvoleur\u00bbparce que personne ne se sauvait, mais j'entendis bien les mots\u00bb\n\u00abvol\u00e9\u00bb et \u00abdentelles\u00bb deux ou trois fois, et je vis la fille se tordre\nles mains et courir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 les yeux \u00e9gar\u00e9s comme une hors du sens. Le\ncocher qui m'avait prise montait sur son si\u00e8ge, mais n'\u00e9tait pas tout \u00e0\nfait mont\u00e9, et les chevaux n'avaient pas encore boug\u00e9, de sorte que\nj'\u00e9tais terriblement inqui\u00e8te et je pris le paquet de dentelles, toute\npr\u00eate \u00e0 le laisser tomber par le vasistas du carrosse qui s'ouvre par\ndevant, justement derri\u00e8re le cocher, mais \u00e0 ma grande joie, en moins\nd'une minute le carrosse se mit en mouvement, c'est \u00e0 savoir aussit\u00f4t\nque le cocher fut mont\u00e9 et eut parl\u00e9 \u00e0 ses chevaux, de sorte qu'il\npartit et j'emportai mon butin qui valait pr\u00e8s de vingt livres.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant dans une bonne condition, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, si j'eusse connu\nle moment o\u00f9 il fallait cesser; et ma gouvernante disait souvent que\nj'\u00e9tais la plus riche dans le m\u00e9tier en Angleterre; et je crois bien que\nje l'\u00e9tais: 700\u00a3 d'argent, outre des habits, des bagues, quelque\nvaisselle plate, et deux montres d'or, le tout vol\u00e9, car j'avais fait\nd'innombrables coups outre ceux que j'ai dits. Oh! si m\u00eame maintenant\nj'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 touch\u00e9e par la gr\u00e2ce du repentir, j'aurais encore eu le\nloisir de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur mes folies et de faire quelque r\u00e9paration; mais\nla satisfaction que je devais donner pour le mal public que j'avais fait\n\u00e9tait encore \u00e0 venir; et je ne pouvais m'emp\u00eacher de faire mes sorties,\ncomme je disais maintenant, non plus qu'au jour o\u00f9 c'\u00e9tait mon extr\u00e9mit\u00e9\nvraiment qui me tirait dehors pour aller chercher mon pain.\nUn jour je mis de tr\u00e8s beaux habits et j'allai me promener; mais rien ne\nse pr\u00e9senta jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je vins dans Saint-James Park. Je vis\nabondance de belles dames qui marchaient tout le long du Mail, et parmi\nles autres il y avait une petite demoiselle, jeune dame d'environ douze\nou treize ans, et elle avait une soeur, comme je supposai, pr\u00e8s d'elle,\nqui pouvait bien en avoir neuf. J'observai que la plus grande avait une\nbelle montre d'or et un joli collier de perles; et elles \u00e9taient\naccompagn\u00e9es d'un laquais en livr\u00e9e; mais comme il n'est pas d'usage que\nles laquais marchent derri\u00e8re les dames dans le Mail, ainsi je notai que\nle laquais s'arr\u00eata comme elles entraient dans le Mail, et l'a\u00een\u00e9e des\nsoeurs lui parla pour lui ordonner d'\u00eatre l\u00e0 sans faute quand elles\nretourneraient.\nQuand je l'entendis cong\u00e9dier son valet de pied, je m'avan\u00e7ai vers lui\net lui demandai quelle petite dame c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0, et je bavardai un peu\navec lui, disant que c'\u00e9tait une bien jolie enfant qui \u00e9tait avec elle,\net combien l'a\u00een\u00e9e aurait bonnes fa\u00e7ons et tenue modeste: comme elle\naurait l'air d'une petite femme; comme elle \u00e9tait s\u00e9rieuse; et\nl'imb\u00e9cile ne tarda pas \u00e0 me dire qui elle \u00e9tait, que c'\u00e9tait la fille\na\u00een\u00e9e de sir Thomas *** d'Essex, et qu'elle avait une grande fortune,\nque sa m\u00e8re n'\u00e9tait pas encore arriv\u00e9e en ville, mais qu'elle \u00e9tait avec\nlady William *** en son logement de Suffolk-Street, avec infiniment\nd'autres d\u00e9tails; qu'ils entretenaient une fille de service et une femme\nde charge, outre le carrosse de sir Thomas, le cocher, et lui-m\u00eame; et\nque cette jeune dame menait tout le train de maison, aussi bien ici que\nchez elle, et me dit abondance de choses, assez pour mon affaire.\nJ'\u00e9tais fort bien v\u00eatue et j'avais ma montre d'or tout comme elle; si\nbien que je quittai le valet de pied et je me mets sur la m\u00eame ligne que\ncette dame, ayant attendu qu'elle ait fait un tour dans le Mail, au\nmoment qu'elle allait avancer; au bout d'un instant je la saluai en son\nnom, par le titre de lady Betty. Je lui demandai si elle avait des\nnouvelles de son p\u00e8re; quand madame sa m\u00e8re allait venir en ville, et\ncomment elle allait.\nJe lui parlai si famili\u00e8rement de toute sa famille qu'elle ne put mais\nque supposer que je les connaissais tous intimement: je lui demandai\ncomment il se faisait qu'elle f\u00fbt sortie sans Mme Chime (c'\u00e9tait le nom\nde sa femme de charge) pour prendre soin de Mme Judith, qui \u00e9tait sa\nsoeur. Puis j'entrai dans un long caquet avec elle sur le sujet de sa\nsoeur; quelle belle petite dame c'\u00e9tait, et lui demandai si elle avait\nappris le fran\u00e7ais et mille telles petites choses, quand soudain\nsurvinrent les gardes et la foule se rua pour voir passer le roi qui\nallait au Parlement.\nLes dames coururent toutes d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 du Mail et j'aidai \u00e0 milady \u00e0 se\ntenir sur le bord de la palissade du Mail afin qu'elle f\u00fbt assez haut\npour voir, et je pris la petite que je levai dans mes bras; pendant ce\ntemps je pris soin d'\u00f4ter si nettement sa montre d'or \u00e0 lady Betty\nqu'elle ne s'aper\u00e7ut point qu'elle lui manquait jusqu'\u00e0 ce que la foule\nse f\u00fbt \u00e9coul\u00e9e et qu'elle f\u00fbt revenue dans le milieu du Mail.\nJe la quittai parmi la foule m\u00eame, et lui dis, comme en grande h\u00e2te:\n--Ch\u00e8re lady Betty, faites attention \u00e0 votre petite soeur.\nEt puis la foule me repoussa en quelque sorte, comme si je fusse f\u00e2ch\u00e9e\nde m'en aller ainsi.\nLa presse en telles occasions est vite pass\u00e9e, et l'endroit se vide\nsit\u00f4t que le roi a disparu; mais il y a toujours un grand attroupement\net une forte pouss\u00e9e au moment m\u00eame que le roi passe: si bien qu'ayant\nl\u00e2ch\u00e9 les deux petites dames et ayant fait mon affaire avec elles, sans\nque rien de f\u00e2cheux ne surv\u00eent, je continuai de me serrer parmi la\nfoule, feignant de courir pour voir le roi, et ainsi je me tins en avant\nde la foule jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'arrivai au bout du Mail; l\u00e0 le roi\ncontinuant vers le quartier des gardes \u00e0 cheval, je m'en allai dans le\npassage qui \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque traversait jusqu'\u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de Haymarket;\net l\u00e0 je me payai un carrosse et je d\u00e9campai, et j'avoue que je n'ai pas\nencore tenu ma parole, c'est \u00e0 savoir d'aller rendre visite \u00e0 lady\nBetty.\nJ'avais eu un instant l'id\u00e9e de me risquer \u00e0 rester avec lady Betty,\njusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'elle s'aper\u00e7\u00fbt que sa montre \u00e9tait vol\u00e9e, et puis de\nm'\u00e9crier avec elle \u00e0 haute voix et de la mener \u00e0 son carrosse, et de\nmonter en carrosse avec elle, et de la reconduire chez elle: car elle\nparaissait tant charm\u00e9e de moi et si parfaitement dup\u00e9e par l'aisance\navec laquelle je lui parlais de tous ses parents et de sa famille, que\nje pensais qu'il fut fort facile de pousser la chose plus loin et de\nmettre la main au moins sur le collier de perles; mais quand je vins \u00e0\npenser que, malgr\u00e9 que l'enfant peut-\u00eatre n'e\u00fbt aucun soup\u00e7on, d'autres\npersonnes en pourraient avoir, et que si on me fouillait, je serais\nd\u00e9couverte, je songeai qu'il valait mieux me sauver avec ce que j'avais\nd\u00e9j\u00e0.\nJ'appris plus tard par accident que lorsque la jeune dame s'aper\u00e7ut que\nsa montre avait disparu, elle fit un grand cri dans le parc et envoya\nson laquais \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 pour voir s'il pouvait me trouver, elle m'ayant\nd\u00e9crite avec une perfection telle qu'il reconnut sur-le-champ que\nc'\u00e9tait la m\u00eame personne qui s'\u00e9tait arr\u00eat\u00e9e \u00e0 causer si longtemps avec\nlui et qui lui avait fait tant de questions sur elles; mais j'\u00e9tais\nassez loin et hors de leur atteinte avant qu'elle p\u00fbt arriver jusqu'\u00e0\nson laquais pour lui conter l'aventure.\nJe m'approche maintenant d'une nouvelle vari\u00e9t\u00e9 de vie. Endurcie par une\nlongue race de crime et un succ\u00e8s sans parall\u00e8le, je n'avais, ainsi que\nj'ai dit, aucune pens\u00e9e de laisser un m\u00e9tier, lequel, s'il fallait en\njuger par l'exemple des autres, devait pourtant se terminer enfin par la\nmis\u00e8re et la douleur.\nCe fut le jour de la No\u00ebl suivant, sur le soir, que pour achever une\nlongue suite de crimes, je sortis dans la rue pour voir ce que je\ntrouverais sur mon chemin, quand passant pr\u00e8s d'un argentier qui\ntravaillait dans Foster-Lane, je vis un app\u00e2t qui me tenta, et auquel\nune de ma profession n'e\u00fbt su r\u00e9sister car il n'y avait personne dans la\nboutique, et beaucoup de vaisselle plate gisait \u00e9parse \u00e0 la fen\u00eatre et\npr\u00e8s de l'escabeau de l'homme, qui, ainsi que je suppose, travaillait\nsur un c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la boutique.\nJ'entrai hardiment et j'allais justement mettre la main sur une pi\u00e8ce\nd'argenterie, et j'aurais pu le faire et remporter tout net, pour aucun\nsoin que les gens de la boutique en eussent pris; sinon qu'un officieux\nindividu de la maison d'en face, voyant que j'entrais et qu'il n'y avait\npersonne dans la boutique, traverse la rue tout courant, et sans me\ndemander qui ni quoi, m'empoigne et appelle les gens de la maison.\nJe n'avais rien touch\u00e9 dans la boutique, et ayant eu la lueur de\nquelqu'un qui arrivait courant, j'eus assez de pr\u00e9sence d'esprit pour\nfrapper tr\u00e8s fort du pied sur le plancher de la maison, et j'appelais\njustement \u00e0 haute voix au moment que cet homme mit la main sur moi.\nCependant, comme j'avais toujours le plus de courage quand j'\u00e9tais dans\nle plus grand danger, ainsi quand il mit la main sur moi je pr\u00e9tendis\navec beaucoup de hauteur que j'\u00e9tais entr\u00e9e pour acheter une\ndemi-douzaine de cuillers d'argent; et pour mon bonheur c'\u00e9tait un\nargentier qui vendait de la vaisselle plate aussi bien qu'il en\nfa\u00e7onnait pour d'autres boutiques. L'homme se mit \u00e0 rire l\u00e0-dessus, et\nattribua une telle valeur au service qu'il avait rendu \u00e0 son voisin,\nqu'il affirma et jura que je n'\u00e9tais point entr\u00e9e pour acheter mais bien\npour voler, et, amassant beaucoup de populace, je dis au ma\u00eetre de la\nboutique, qu'on \u00e9tait all\u00e9 chercher entre temps dans quelque lieu\nvoisin, qu'il \u00e9tait inutile de faire un scandale, et de discuter l\u00e0 sur\nl'affaire; que cet homme affirmait que j'\u00e9tais entr\u00e9e pour voler et\nqu'il fallait qu'il le prouv\u00e2t; que je d\u00e9sirais aller devant un\nmagistrat sans plus de paroles; et qu'aussi bien je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 voir\nque j'allais prendre trop d'aigreur pour l'homme qui m'avait arr\u00eat\u00e9e.\nLe ma\u00eetre et la ma\u00eetresse de la boutique furent loin de se montrer aussi\nviolents que l'homme d'en face; et le ma\u00eetre me dit:\n--Bonne dame, il se peut que vous soyez entr\u00e9e dans ma boutique, pour\nautant que je sache, dans un bon dessein; mais il semble que ce f\u00fbt une\nchose dangereuse \u00e0 vous que d'entrer dans une boutique telle que la\nmienne, au moment que vous n'y voyiez personne; et je ne puis rendre si\npeu de justice \u00e0 mon voisin, qui a montr\u00e9 tant de pr\u00e9venance, que de ne\npoint reconna\u00eetre qu'il a eu raison sur sa part: malgr\u00e9 qu'en somme je\nne trouve pas que vous ayez tent\u00e9 de prendre aucune chose, si bien qu'en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 je ne sais trop que faire.\nJe le pressai d'aller avec moi devant un magistrat, et que si on pouvait\nprouver contre moi quelque chose qui f\u00fbt, je me soumettrais de bon\ncoeur, mais que sinon, j'attendais r\u00e9paration.\nJustement comme nous \u00e9tions dans ce d\u00e9bat, avec une grosse populace\nassembl\u00e9e devant la porte, voil\u00e0 que passe sir T. B., \u00e9chevin de la cit\u00e9\net juge de paix, ce qu'entendant l'argentier supplia Sa Dignit\u00e9 d'entrer\nafin de d\u00e9cider le cas.\nIl faut rendre \u00e0 l'argentier cette justice, qu'il conta son affaire avec\ninfiniment de justice et de mod\u00e9ration et l'homme qui avait travers\u00e9 la\nrue pour m'arr\u00eater conta la sienne avec autant d'ardeur et de sotte\ncol\u00e8re, ce qui me fit encore du bien. Puis ce fut mon tour de parler, et\nje dis \u00e0 Sa Dignit\u00e9 que j'\u00e9tais \u00e9trang\u00e8re dans Londres, \u00e9tant\nnouvellement arriv\u00e9e du Nord; que je logeais dans tel endroit, que je\npassais dans cette rue, et que j'\u00e9tais entr\u00e9e dans une boutique\nd'argenterie pour acheter une demi-douzaine de cuillers. Par chance\ngrande j'avais dans ma poche une vieille cuiller d'argent que j'en\ntirai, et lui dis que j'avais emport\u00e9 cette cuiller afin d'acheter les\npareilles neuves, pour compl\u00e9ter le service que j'avais \u00e0 la campagne.\nQue ne voyant personne dans la boutique j'avais frapp\u00e9 du pied tr\u00e8s fort\npour faire venir les gens et que j'avais appel\u00e9 aussi \u00e0 haute voix;\nqu'il \u00e9tait vrai qu'il y avait des pi\u00e8ces d'argenterie \u00e9parses dans la\nboutique, mais que personne ne pouvait dire que j'en eusse touch\u00e9\naucune; qu'un individu \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 tout courant de la rue dans la\nboutique et m'avait empoign\u00e9e de furieuse mani\u00e8re, dans le moment que\nj'appelais les gens de la maison; que s'il avait eu r\u00e9ellement\nl'intention de rendre quelque service \u00e0 son voisin, il aurait d\u00fb se\ntenir \u00e0 distance et m'\u00e9pier silencieusement pour voir si je touchais\nrien, et puis me prendre sur le fait.\n--Voil\u00e0 qui est vrai, dit M. l'\u00e9chevin, et, se tournant vers l'homme qui\nm'avait arr\u00eat\u00e9e, il lui demanda s'il \u00e9tait vrai que j'eusse frapp\u00e9 du\npied. Il dit que oui, que j'avais frapp\u00e9, mais qu'il se pouvait que cela\nf\u00fbt du fait de sa venue.\n--Nenni, dit l'\u00e9chevin, le reprenant de court, voici que vous vous\ncontredisez; il n'y a qu'un moment que vous avez dit qu'elle \u00e9tait dans\nla boutique, et qu'elle vous tournait le dos, et qu'elle ne vous avait\npas vu jusqu'au moment o\u00f9 vous \u00e9tiez venu sur elle.\nOr il \u00e9tait vrai que j'avais en partie le dos tourn\u00e9 \u00e0 la rue, mais\npourtant mon affaire \u00e9tant de celles qui exigeaient que j'eusse les yeux\ntourn\u00e9s de tous les c\u00f4t\u00e9s, ainsi avais-je r\u00e9ellement eu la lueur qu'il\ntraversait la rue, comme j'ai dit avant, bien qu'il ne s'en f\u00fbt point\ndout\u00e9.\nApr\u00e8s avoir entendu tout \u00e0 plein, l'\u00e9chevin donna son opinion, qui\n\u00e9tait que son voisin s'\u00e9tait mis dans l'erreur, et que j'\u00e9tais\ninnocente, et l'argentier y acquies\u00e7a, ainsi que sa femme, et ainsi je\nfus rel\u00e2ch\u00e9e; mais dans le moment que je m'en allais, M. l'\u00e9chevin dit:\n--Mais arr\u00eatez, madame, si vous aviez dessein d'acheter des cuillers,\nj'aime \u00e0 croire que vous ne souffrirez pas que mon ami ici perde une\ncliente pour s'\u00eatre tromp\u00e9.\nJe r\u00e9pondis sur-le-champ:\n--Non, monsieur, j'ach\u00e8terai fort bien les cuillers, pour peu toutefois\nqu'elles s'apparient \u00e0 la cuiller que j'ai l\u00e0 et que j'ai apport\u00e9e comme\nmod\u00e8le.\nEt l'argentier m'en fit voir qui \u00e9taient de la fa\u00e7on m\u00eame; si bien qu'il\npesa les cuillers et la valeur en monta \u00e0 trente-cinq shillings; de\nsorte que je tire ma bourse pour le payer, en laquelle j'avais pr\u00e8s de\nvingt guin\u00e9es, car je n'allais jamais sans telle somme sur moi, quoi\nqu'il p\u00fbt advenir, et j'y trouvai de l'utilit\u00e9 en d'autres occasions\ntout autant qu'en celle-ci.\nQuand M. l'\u00e9chevin vit mon argent, il dit:\n--Eh bien, madame, \u00e0 cette heure je suis bien persuad\u00e9 qu'on vous a fait\ntort, et c'est pour cette raison que je vous ai pouss\u00e9e \u00e0 acheter les\ncuillers et que je vous ai retenue jusqu'\u00e0 ce que vous les eussiez\nachet\u00e9es; car si vous n'aviez pas en d'argent pour les payer, je vous\naurais soup\u00e7onn\u00e9e de n'\u00eatre point entr\u00e9e dans cette boutique avec le\ndessein d'y acheter; car l'esp\u00e8ce de gens qui viennent aux fins dont on\nvous avait accus\u00e9e sont rarement g\u00ean\u00e9s par l'or qu'ils ont dans leurs\npoches, ainsi que je vois que vous en avez.\nJe souris et dis \u00e0 Sa Dignit\u00e9 que je voyais bien que je devais \u00e0 mon\nargent quelque peu de sa faveur, mais que j'esp\u00e9rais qu'elle n'\u00e9tait\npoint sans \u00eatre caus\u00e9e aussi par la justice qu'il m'avait rendue\nauparavant. Il dit que oui, en effet, mais que ceci confirmait son\nopinion et qu'\u00e0 cette heure il \u00e9tait intimement persuad\u00e9 qu'on m'avait\nfait tort. Ainsi je parvins \u00e0 me tirer d'une affaire o\u00f9 j'arrivai sur\nl'extr\u00eame bord de la destruction.\nCe ne fut que trois jours apr\u00e8s que, nullement rendue prudente par le\ndanger que j'avais couru, contre ma coutume et poursuivant encore l'art\no\u00f9 je m'\u00e9tais si longtemps employ\u00e9e, je m'aventurai dans une maison dont\nje vis les portes ouvertes, et me fournis, ainsi que je pensai, en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, sans \u00eatre aper\u00e7ue, de deux pi\u00e8ces de soie \u00e0 fleurs, de celle\nqu'on nomme brocart, tr\u00e8s riche. Ce n'\u00e9tait pas la boutique d'un\nmercier, ni le magasin d'un mercier, mais la maison semblait d'une\nhabitation priv\u00e9e, o\u00f9 demeurait, para\u00eet-il, un homme qui vendait des\nmarchandises destin\u00e9es aux tisserands pour merciers, sorte de courtier\nou facteur de marchand.\nPour abr\u00e9ger la partie noire de cette histoire, je fus assaillie par\ndeux filles qui s'\u00e9lanc\u00e8rent sur moi, la bouche ouverte, dans le moment\nque je sortais par la porte, et l'une d'elles, me tirant en arri\u00e8re, me\nfit rentrer dans la chambre, tandis que l'autre fermait la porte sur\nmoi. Je les eusse pay\u00e9es de bonnes paroles, mais je n'en pus trouver le\nmoyen: deux dragons enflamm\u00e9s n'eussent pas montr\u00e9 plus de fureur; elles\nlac\u00e9r\u00e8rent mes habits, m'injuri\u00e8rent et hurl\u00e8rent, comme si elles\neussent voulu m'assassiner; la ma\u00eetresse de la maison arriva ensuite, et\npuis le ma\u00eetre, et tous pleins d'insultes.\nJe donnai au ma\u00eetre de bonnes paroles, lui dis que la porte \u00e9tait\nouverte, que les choses \u00e9taient une tentation pour moi, que j'\u00e9tais\npauvre, dans la d\u00e9tresse, et que la pauvret\u00e9 \u00e9tait une chose \u00e0 laquelle\nbeaucoup de personnes ne pouvaient r\u00e9sister, et le suppliai avec des\nlarmes d'avoir piti\u00e9 de moi. La ma\u00eetresse de la maison \u00e9tait \u00e9mue de\ncompassion et incline \u00e0 me laisser aller, et avait presque amen\u00e9 son\nmari \u00e0 y consentir, mais les coquines avaient couru, devant qu'on les\ne\u00fbt envoy\u00e9es, pour ramener un commissaire; sur quoi le ma\u00eetre dit qu'il\nne pouvait reculer, et qu'il fallait aller devant un juge, et qu'il\npourrait \u00eatre lui-m\u00eame dans la peine s'il me rel\u00e2chait.\nLa vue d'un commissaire en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 me frappa, et je pensai enfoncer en\nterre; je tombai en p\u00e2moison, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 ces gens pensaient que je\nfusse morte, quand de nouveau la femme plaida pour moi, et pria son\nmari, voyant qu'ils n'avaient rien perdu, de me rel\u00e2cher. Je lui offris\nde lui payer les deux pi\u00e8ces, quelle qu'en f\u00fbt la valeur, quoique je ne\nles eusse pas prises, et lui exposai que puisqu'il avait les\nmarchandises, et qu'en somme il n'avait rien perdu, il serait cruel de\nme pers\u00e9cuter \u00e0 mort, et de demander mon sang pour la seule tentative\nque j'avais faite de les prendre. Je rappelai aussi au commissaire que\nje n'avais point forc\u00e9 de portes, ni rien emport\u00e9; et quand j'arrivai\ndevant le juge et que je plaidai l\u00e0 sur ce que je n'avais rien forc\u00e9\npour m'introduire, ni rien emport\u00e9 au dehors, le juge fut enclin \u00e0 me\nfaire mettre en libert\u00e9; mais la premi\u00e8re vilaine coquine qui m'avait\narr\u00eat\u00e9e ayant affirm\u00e9 que j'\u00e9tais sur le point de m'en aller avec les\n\u00e9toffes, mais qu'elle m'avait arr\u00eat\u00e9e et tir\u00e9e en arri\u00e8re, le juge sans\nplus attendre, ordonna de me mettre en prison, et on m'emporta \u00e0\nNewgate, dans cet horrible lieu. Mon sang m\u00eame se glace \u00e0 la seule\npens\u00e9e de ce nom: le lieu o\u00f9 tant de mes camarades avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 enferm\u00e9es\nsous les verrous, et d'o\u00f9 elles avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tir\u00e9es pour marcher \u00e0\nl'arbre fatal; le lieu o\u00f9 ma m\u00e8re avait si profond\u00e9ment souffert, o\u00f9\nj'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 mise au monde, et d'o\u00f9 je n'esp\u00e9rais point de r\u00e9demption que\npar une mort inf\u00e2me; pour conclure, le lieu qui m'avait si longtemps\nattendue, et qu'avec tant d'art et de succ\u00e8s j'avais si longtemps \u00e9vit\u00e9.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant dans une affreuse peine vraiment; il est impossible\nde d\u00e9crire la terreur de mon esprit quand d'abord on me fit entrer et\nque je consid\u00e9rai autour de moi toutes les horreurs de ce lieu\nabominable: je me regardai comme perdue, et que je n'avais plus \u00e0 songer\nqu'\u00e0 quitter ce monde, et cela dans l'infamie la plus extr\u00eame; le\ntumulte infernal, les hurlements, les jurements et la clameur, la\npuanteur et la salet\u00e9, et toutes les affreuses choses d'affliction que\nj'y voyais s'unissaient pour faire para\u00eetre que ce lieu fut un embl\u00e8me\nde l'enfer lui-m\u00eame, et en quelque sorte sa porte d'entr\u00e9e.\nJe ne pus dormir pendant plusieurs nuits et plusieurs jours apr\u00e8s que je\nfus entr\u00e9e dans ce mis\u00e9rable lieu: et durant quelque temps j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9\nbien heureuse d'y mourir, malgr\u00e9 que je ne consid\u00e9rasse point non plus\nla mort ainsi qu'il le faudrait; en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, rien ne pouvait \u00eatre plus\nempli d'horreur pour mon imagination que le lieu m\u00eame: rien ne m'\u00e9tait\nplus odieux que la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 qui s'y trouvait. Oh! si j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 envoy\u00e9e\nen aucun lieu de l'univers, et point \u00e0 Newgate, je me fusse estim\u00e9e\nheureuse!\nEt puis comme les mis\u00e9rables endurcies qui \u00e9taient l\u00e0 avant moi\ntriomph\u00e8rent sur moi! Quoi! Mme Flanders \u00e0 Newgate, enfin! quoi, Mme\nMary, Mme Molly, et ensuite Mol! Flanders tout court! Elles pensaient\nque le diable m'e\u00fbt aid\u00e9e, disaient-elles, pour avoir r\u00e9gn\u00e9 si\nlongtemps; elles m'attendaient l\u00e0 depuis bien des ann\u00e9es,\ndisaient-elles, et \u00e9tais-je donc venue enfin! Puis elles me souillaient\nd'excr\u00e9ments pour me railler, me souhaitaient la bienvenue en ce lieu,\net que j'en eusse bien de la joie, me disaient de prendre bon courage,\nd'avoir le coeur fort, de ne pas me laisser abattre: que les choses\nn'iraient peut-\u00eatre pas si mal que je le craignais et autres paroles\nsemblables; puis faisaient venir de l'eau-de-vie et la buvaient \u00e0 ma\nsant\u00e9; mais mettaient le tout \u00e0 mon compte; car elles me disaient que je\nne faisais que d'arriver au coll\u00e8ge, comme elles l'appelaient, et que,\ns\u00fbr, j'avais de l'argent dans ma poche, tandis qu'elles n'en avaient\npoint.\nJe demandai \u00e0 l'une de cette bande depuis combien de temps elle \u00e9tait\nl\u00e0. Elle me dit quatre mois. Je lui demandai comment le lieu lui avait\nparu quand elle y \u00e9tait entr\u00e9e d'abord. Juste comme il me paraissait\nmaintenant, dit-elle, terrible et plein d'horreur; et elle pensait\nqu'elle f\u00fbt en enfer; et je crois bien encore que j'y suis,\najouta-t-elle, mais cela me semble si naturel que je ne me tourmente\nplus l\u00e0-dessus.\n--Je suppose, dis-je, que vous n'\u00eates point en danger de ce qui va\nsuivre.\n--Nenni, dit-elle, par ma foi, tu te trompes bien; car je suis\ncondamn\u00e9e, sentence rendue; seulement j'ai plaid\u00e9 mon ventre; mais je ne\nsuis pas plus grosse d'enfant que le juge qui m'a examin\u00e9e, et je\nm'attends \u00e0 \u00eatre rappel\u00e9e \u00e0 la prochaine session.\nCe rappel est un examen du premier jugement, quand une femme a obtenu\nr\u00e9pit pour son ventre, mais qu'il se trouve qu'elle n'est pas enceinte,\nou que si elle l'a \u00e9t\u00e9, elle a accouch\u00e9.\n--Comment, dis-je, et vous n'\u00eates pas plus soucieuse?\n--Bah! dit-elle, je n'y puis rien faire; \u00e0 quoi cela sert-il d'\u00eatre\ntriste? Si je suis pendue, je ne serai plus l\u00e0, voil\u00e0 tout.\nEt voil\u00e0 qu'elle se d\u00e9tourne en dansant, et qu'elle chante, comme elle\ns'en va, le refrain suivant de Newgate:\n          _Tortouse balance,_\n          _Ma panse qui danse,_\n          _Un coup de cloche au clocheton,_\n          _Et c'est la fin de Jeanneton._\nJe ne puis dire, ainsi que le font quelques-uns, que le diable n'est pas\nsi noir qu'on le peint; car en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 nulles couleurs ne sauraient\nrepr\u00e9senter vivement ce lieu de Newgate, et nulle \u00e2me le concevoir\nproprement, sinon celles qui y ont souffert. Mais comment l'enfer peut\ndevenir par degr\u00e9s si naturel, et non seulement tol\u00e9rable, mais encore\nagr\u00e9able, voil\u00e0 une chose inintelligible sauf \u00e0 ceux qui en ont fait\nl'exp\u00e9rience, ainsi que j'ai fait.\nLa m\u00eame nuit que je fus envoy\u00e9e \u00e0 Newgate, j'en fis passer la nouvelle \u00e0\nma vieille gouvernante, qui en fut surprise, comme bien vous pensez, et\nqui passa la nuit presque aussi mal en dehors de Newgate que moi au\ndedans.\nLe matin suivant elle vint me voir; elle fit tout son possible pour me\nrassurer, mais elle vit bien que c'\u00e9tait en vain. Toutefois, comme elle\ndisait, plier sous le poids n'\u00e9tait qu'augmenter le poids; elle\ns'appliqua aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 toutes les m\u00e9thodes propres \u00e0 en emp\u00eacher les\neffets que nous craignions, et d'abord elle d\u00e9couvrit les deux coquines\nenflamm\u00e9es qui m'avaient surprise; elle t\u00e2cha \u00e0 les gagner, \u00e0 les\npersuader, leur offrit de l'argent, et en somme essaya tous les moyens\nimaginables pour \u00e9viter une poursuite; elle offrit \u00e0 une de ces filles\n100\u00a3 pour quitter sa ma\u00eetresse et ne pas compara\u00eetre contre moi; mais\nelle ne f\u00fbt si r\u00e9solue, que malgr\u00e9 qu'elle ne f\u00fbt que fille servante \u00e0\n3\u00a3 de gages par an, ou quelque chose d'approchant, elle refusa, et elle\ne\u00fbt refus\u00e9, ainsi que le crut ma gouvernante, quand m\u00eame elle lui e\u00fbt\noffert 500\u00a3. Puis elle assaillit l'autre fille; celle-ci n'avait point\nla duret\u00e9 de la premi\u00e8re et parut parfois encline \u00e0 montrer quelque\npiti\u00e9; mais l'autre cr\u00e9ature la sermonna, et ne voulut pas tant que la\nlaisser parler \u00e0 ma gouvernante, mais mena\u00e7a mon amie de la faire\nprendre pour corruption de t\u00e9moins.\nPuis elle s'adressa au ma\u00eetre, c'est \u00e0 savoir \u00e0 l'homme dont les\nmarchandises avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 vol\u00e9es, et particuli\u00e8rement \u00e0 sa femme, qui\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 encline d'abord \u00e0 prendre quelque piti\u00e9 de moi; elle trouva\nque la femme \u00e9tait la m\u00eame encore, mais que l'homme all\u00e9guait qu'il\n\u00e9tait forc\u00e9 de poursuivre, sans quoi il perdrait sa reconnaissance en\njustice.\nMa gouvernante s'offrit \u00e0 trouver des amis qui feraient \u00f4ter sa\nreconnaissance du fil d'archal des registres, comme ils disent, mais il\nne fut pas possible de le convaincre qu'il y e\u00fbt aucun salut pour lui au\nmonde, sinon de compara\u00eetre contre moi; si bien que j'allais avoir\ncontre moi trois t\u00e9moins \u00e0 charge sur le fait m\u00eame, le ma\u00eetre et ses\ndeux servantes; c'est-\u00e0-dire que j'\u00e9tais aussi certaine d'encourir la\npeine de mort que je l'\u00e9tais de vivre \u00e0 cette heure et que je n'avais\nrien \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 me pr\u00e9parer \u00e0 mourir.\nJe passai l\u00e0 bien des jours dans la plus extr\u00eame horreur: j'avais la\nmort en quelque sorte devant les yeux et je ne pensais \u00e0 rien nuit et\njour qu'\u00e0 des gibets et \u00e0 des cordes, mauvais esprits et d\u00e9mons; il est\nimpossible d'exprimer combien j'\u00e9tais harass\u00e9e entre les affreuses\nappr\u00e9hensions de la mort et la terreur de ma conscience qui me\nreprochait mon horrible vie pass\u00e9e.\nLe chapelain de Newgate vint me trouver, et me parla un peu \u00e0 sa fa\u00e7on;\nmais tout son discours divin se portait \u00e0 me faire avouer mon crime,\ncomme il le nommait (malgr\u00e9 qu'il ne s\u00fbt pas pourquoi j'\u00e9tais l\u00e0), \u00e0\nd\u00e9couvrir enti\u00e8rement ce que j'avais fait, et autres choses semblables,\nsans quoi il me disait que Dieu ne me pardonnerait jamais; et il fut si\nloin de toucher le propos m\u00eame que je n'en eus aucune mani\u00e8re de\nconsolation; et puis d'observer la pauvre cr\u00e9ature me pr\u00eacher le matin\nconfession et repentir, et de le trouver ivre d'eau-de-vie sur le midi,\nvoil\u00e0 qui avait quelque chose de si choquant que cet homme finit par me\ndonner la naus\u00e9e, et son oeuvre aussi, par degr\u00e9s, \u00e0 cause de l'homme\nqui la pratiquait: si bien que je le priai de ne point me fatiguer\ndavantage.\nJe ne sais comment cela se fit, mais gr\u00e2ce aux infatigables efforts de\nma diligente gouvernante, il n'y eut pas d'accusation port\u00e9e contre moi\n\u00e0 la premi\u00e8re session, je veux dire au grand jury, \u00e0 Guildhall, si bien\nque j'eus encore un mois ou cinq semaines devant moi, et sans doute\nc'est ce que j'aurais d\u00fb regarder comme autant de temps qui m'\u00e9tait\ndonn\u00e9 pour r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur ce qui \u00e9tait pass\u00e9, et me pr\u00e9parer \u00e0 ce qui\nallait venir; j'aurais d\u00fb estimer que c'\u00e9tait un r\u00e9pit destin\u00e9 au\nrepentir et l'avoir employ\u00e9 ainsi, mais c'est ce qui n'\u00e9tait pas en moi.\nJ'\u00e9tais f\u00e2ch\u00e9e, comme avant, d'\u00eatre \u00e0 Newgate, mais je donnais peu de\nmarques de repentir.\nAu contraire, ainsi que l'eau dans les cavernes des montagnes qui\np\u00e9trifie et tourne en pierre toute chose sur quoi on la laisse\ns'\u00e9goutter; ainsi le continuel commerce avec une pareille meute de\nlimiers d'enfer eut sur moi la m\u00eame op\u00e9ration commune que sur les\nautres; je muai en pierre; je devins premi\u00e8rement insensible et stupide,\npuis abrutie et pleine d'oubli, enfin folle furieuse plus qu'aucune\nd'elles; en somme j'arrivai \u00e0 me plaire naturellement et \u00e0 m'accommoder\n\u00e0 ce lieu, autant en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que si j'y fusse n\u00e9e.\nIl est \u00e0 peine possible d'imaginer que nos natures soient capables de\nd\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e9rer au point que de rendre plaisant et agr\u00e9able ce qui en soi est\nla plus compl\u00e8te mis\u00e8re. Voil\u00e0 une condition telle que je crois qu'il\nest \u00e0 peine possible d'en citer une pire; j'\u00e9tais malheureuse avec un\nraffinement aussi exquis qu'il se peut pour une personne, qui, ainsi que\nmoi, avait de la vie, de la sant\u00e9, et de l'argent pour s'aider.\nJ'avais sur moi un poids de crime qui e\u00fbt suffi \u00e0 abattre toute cr\u00e9ature\nqui e\u00fbt gard\u00e9 le moindre pouvoir de r\u00e9flexion, ou qui e\u00fbt encore quelque\nsentiment du bonheur en cette vie ou de la mis\u00e8re en l'autre: j'avais eu\nd'abord quelque remords, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, mais point de repentir; je n'avais\nmaintenant ni remords ni repentir. J'\u00e9tais accus\u00e9e d'un crime dont la\npunition \u00e9tait la mort; la preuve \u00e9tait si manifeste que je n'avais\npoint lieu m\u00eame de plaider \u00abnon coupable\u00bb; j'avais le renom d'une\nvieille d\u00e9linquante, si bien que je n'avais rien \u00e0 attendre que la mort;\nni n'avais-je moi-m\u00eame aucune pens\u00e9e d'\u00e9chapper et cependant j'\u00e9tais\nposs\u00e9d\u00e9e par une \u00e9trange l\u00e9thargie d'\u00e2me; je n'avais en moi ni trouble,\nni appr\u00e9hensions, ni douleur; la premi\u00e8re surprise \u00e9tait pass\u00e9e;\nj'\u00e9tais, je puis bien dire, je ne sais comme; mes sens, ma raison, bien\nplus, ma conscience, \u00e9taient tout endormis: mon cours de vie pendant\nquarante ans avait \u00e9t\u00e9 une horrible complication de vice, de\nprostitution, d'adult\u00e8re, d'inceste, de mensonge, de vol et en un mot,\nj'avais pratiqu\u00e9 tout, sauf l'assassinat et la trahison, depuis l'\u00e2ge de\ndix-huit ans ou environ jusqu'\u00e0 soixante; et pourtant je n'avais point\nde sens de ma condition, ni de pens\u00e9e du ciel ni de l'enfer, du moins\nqui all\u00e2t plus loin qu'un simple effleurement passager, comme le point\nou aiguillon de douleur qui avertit et puis s'en va; je n'avais ni le\ncoeur de demander la merci de Dieu, ni en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 d'y penser. Et je crois\navoir donn\u00e9 ici une br\u00e8ve description de la plus compl\u00e8te mis\u00e8re sur\nterre.\nToutes mes pens\u00e9es terrifiantes \u00e9taient pass\u00e9es; les horreurs du lieu\nm'\u00e9taient devenues famili\u00e8res; je n'\u00e9prouvais pas plus de malaise par le\ntumulte et les clameurs de la prison que celles qui menaient ce tumulte;\nen un mot, j'\u00e9tais devenue un simple gibier de Newgate, aussi m\u00e9chant et\ngrossier que tout autre; oui, et j'avais \u00e0 peine retenu l'habitude et\ncoutume de bonnes fa\u00e7ons et mani\u00e8res qui jusque-l\u00e0 avait \u00e9t\u00e9 r\u00e9pandue\ndans toute ma conversation; si compl\u00e8tement \u00e9tais-je d\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e9r\u00e9e et\nposs\u00e9d\u00e9e par la corruption que je n'\u00e9tais pas plus la m\u00eame chose que\nj'avais \u00e9t\u00e9, que si je n'eusse jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 autrement que ce que j'\u00e9tais\nmaintenant.\nAu milieu de cette partie endurcie de mon existence, j'eus une autre\nsurprise soudaine qui me rappela un peu \u00e0 cette chose qu'on nomme\ndouleur, et dont en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 auparavant j'avais commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 passer le sens.\nOn me raconta une nuit qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 apport\u00e9 en prison assez tard dans\nla nuit derni\u00e8re trois voleurs de grand'route qui avaient commis un vol\nquelque part sur Hounslow-heath (je crois que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0) et qui avaient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 poursuivis jusqu'\u00e0 Uxbrige par les gens de la campagne, et l\u00e0 pris\napr\u00e8s une courageuse r\u00e9sistance, o\u00f9 beaucoup des paysans avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nbless\u00e9s et quelques-uns tu\u00e9s.\nOn ne sera point \u00e9tonn\u00e9 que nous, les prisonni\u00e8res, nous fussions toutes\nassez d\u00e9sireuses de voir ces braves gentilshommes hupp\u00e9s, dont on disait\nque leurs pareils ne s'\u00e9taient point rencontr\u00e9s encore, d'autant qu'on\npr\u00e9tendait que le matin ils seraient transf\u00e9r\u00e9s dans le pr\u00e9au, ayant\ndonn\u00e9 de l'argent au grand ma\u00eetre de la prison afin qu'on leur accord\u00e2t\nla libert\u00e9 de ce meilleur s\u00e9jour. Nous donc, les femmes, nous nous m\u00eemes\nsur leur chemin, afin d'\u00eatre s\u00fbres de les voir; mais rien ne peut\nexprimer la surprise et la stupeur o\u00f9 je fus jet\u00e9e quand je vis le\npremier homme qui sortit, et que je reconnus pour \u00eatre mon mari du\nLancashire, le m\u00eame avec qui j'avais v\u00e9cu si bravement \u00e0 Dunstable, et\nle m\u00eame que j'avais vu ensuite \u00e0 Brickhill, lors de mon mariage avec mon\ndernier mari, ainsi que j'ai dit.\nJe fus comme \u00e9tonn\u00e9e \u00e0 cette vue, muette, et ne sus ni que dire ni que\nfaire: il ne me reconnut point, et ce fut tout le soulagement que j'eus\npour l'instant; je quittai ma soci\u00e9t\u00e9 et me retirai autant qu'il est\npossible de se retirer en cet horrible lieu, et je pleurai ardemment\npendant longtemps.\n--Affreuse cr\u00e9ature que je suis, m'\u00e9criai-je, combien de pauvres gens\nai-je rendus malheureux! combien de mis\u00e9rables d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s ai-je envoy\u00e9s\njusque chez le diable!\nJe pla\u00e7ai tout \u00e0 mon compte les infortunes de ce gentilhomme. Il\nm'avait dit \u00e0 Chester qu'il \u00e9tait ruin\u00e9 par notre alliance et que ses\nfortunes \u00e9taient faites d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9es \u00e0 cause de moi; car, pensant que\nj'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 une fortune, il s'\u00e9tait enfonc\u00e9 dans la dette plus avant\nqu'il ne pourrait jamais payer; qu'il s'en irait \u00e0 l'arm\u00e9e et porterait\nle mousquet, ou qu'il ach\u00e8terait un cheval pour faire un tour, comme il\ndisait; et malgr\u00e9 que je ne lui eusse jamais dit que j'\u00e9tais une fortune\net que je ne l'eusse pas proprement dup\u00e9 moi-m\u00eame, cependant j'avais\nencourag\u00e9 la fausse id\u00e9e qu'il s'\u00e9tait faite, et ainsi \u00e9tais-je la cause\noriginelle de son malheur. La surprise de cette aventure ne fit que\nm'enfoncer plus avant dans mes pens\u00e9es et me donner de plus fortes\nr\u00e9flexions que tout ce qui m'\u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 jusqu'ici; je me lamentais\nnuit et jour, d'autant qu'on m'avait dit qu'il \u00e9tait le capitaine de la\nbande, et qu'il avait commis tant de vols que Hind, ou Whitney, ou le\nFermier d'Or n'\u00e9taient que des niais aupr\u00e8s de lui; qu'il serait\ns\u00fbrement pendu, quand il ne d\u00fbt pas rester d'autres hommes apr\u00e8s lui\ndans le pays; et qu'il y aurait abondance de gens pour t\u00e9moigner contre\nlui.\nJe fus noy\u00e9e dans la douleur que j'\u00e9prouvais; ma propre condition ne me\ndonnait point de souci, si je la comparais \u00e0 celle-ci, et je m'accablais\nde reproches \u00e0 son sujet; je me lamentais sur mes infortunes et sur sa\nruine d'un tel train que je ne go\u00fbtais plus rien comme avant et que les\npremi\u00e8res r\u00e9flexions que j'avais faites sur l'affreuse vie que je menais\ncommenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 me revenir; et \u00e0 mesure que ces choses revenaient, mon\nhorreur de ce lieu et de la mani\u00e8re dont on y vivait me revint ainsi; en\nsomme je fus parfaitement chang\u00e9e et je devins une autre personne.\nTandis que j'\u00e9tais sous ces influences de douleur pour lui, je fus\navertie qu'\u00e0 la prochaine session je serais cit\u00e9e devant le grand jury,\net qu'on demanderait contre moi la peine de mort. Ma sensibilit\u00e9 avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0 touch\u00e9e; la mis\u00e9rable hardiesse d'esprit que j'avais acquise\ns'affaissa et une conscience coupable commen\u00e7a de se r\u00e9pandre dans tous\nmes sens. En un mot, je me mis \u00e0 penser; et de penser, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, c'est\nun vrai pas d'avanc\u00e9e de l'enfer au ciel; tout cet endurcissement, cette\nhumeur d'\u00e2me, dont j'ai tant parl\u00e9, n'\u00e9tait que privation de pens\u00e9e;\ncelui qui est rendu \u00e0 sa pens\u00e9e est rendu \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame.\nSit\u00f4t que j'eus commenc\u00e9, dis-je, de penser, la premi\u00e8re chose qui me\nvint \u00e0 l'esprit \u00e9clata en ces termes:\n--Mon Dieu, que vais-je devenir? Je vais \u00eatre condamn\u00e9e, s\u00fbrement; et\napr\u00e8s, il n'y a rien que la mort. Je n'ai point d'amis; que vais-je\nfaire? Je serai s\u00fbrement condamn\u00e9e! Mon Dieu, ayez piti\u00e9 de moi, que\nvais-je devenir?\nC'\u00e9tait une morne pens\u00e9e, direz-vous, pour la premi\u00e8re, depuis si\nlongtemps qui avait jailli dans mon \u00e2me en cette fa\u00e7on; et pourtant ceci\nm\u00eame n'\u00e9tait que frayeur de ce qui allait venir; il n'y avait pas l\u00e0\ndedans un seul mot de sinc\u00e8re repentir. Cependant, j'\u00e9tais affreusement\nd\u00e9prim\u00e9e, et inconsol\u00e9e \u00e0 un point extr\u00eame; et comme je n'avais nulle\namie \u00e0 qui confier mes pens\u00e9es de d\u00e9tresse, elles me pesaient si\nlourdement, qu'elles me jetaient plusieurs fois par jour dans des\np\u00e2moisons, et crises de nerfs. Je fis demander ma vieille gouvernante,\nqui, pour lui rendre justice, agit en fid\u00e8le amie; elle ne laissa point\nde pierre qu'elle ne retourna pour emp\u00eacher le grand jury de dresser\nl'acte d'accusation; elle alla trouver plusieurs membres du jury, leur\nparla, et s'effor\u00e7a de les remplir de dispositions favorables, \u00e0 cause\nque rien n'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 enlev\u00e9, et qu'il n'y avait point eu de maison\nforc\u00e9e, etc. Mais rien n'y faisait; les deux filles pr\u00eataient serment\nsur le fait, et le jury trouva lieu d'accusation de vol de maison, c'est\n\u00e0 savoir, de f\u00e9lonie et bris de cl\u00f4ture.\nJe tombai \u00e9vanouie quand on m'en porta la nouvelle, et quand je revins \u00e0\nmoi, je pensai mourir sous ce faix. Ma gouvernante se montra pour moi\ncomme une vraie m\u00e8re; elle s'apitoya sur moi, pleura avec moi et pour\nmoi; mais elle ne pouvait m'aider; et pour ajouter \u00e0 toute cette\nterreur, on ne faisait que dire par toute la prison que ma mort \u00e9tait\nassur\u00e9e; je les entendais fort bien en parler souvent entre elles, et je\nles voyais hocher la t\u00eate et dire qu'elles en \u00e9taient bien f\u00e2ch\u00e9es, et\nautres choses semblables, comme il est d'usage en ce lieu; mais pourtant\naucune n'\u00e9tait venue me dire ses pens\u00e9es jusqu'enfin un des gardiens\nvint \u00e0 moi priv\u00e9ment et dit avec un soupir:\n--Eh bien, madame Flanders, vous allez \u00eatre jug\u00e9e vendredi (et nous\n\u00e9tions au mercredi); qu'avez-vous l'intention de faire?\nJe devins blanche comme un linge et dis:\n--Dieu sait ce que je ferai; pour ma part, je ne sais que faire.\n--H\u00e9 quoi, dit-il, je ne veux point vous flatter; il faudrait vous\npr\u00e9parer \u00e0 la mort, car je doute que vous serez condamn\u00e9e, et comme vous\n\u00eates vieille d\u00e9linquante, m'est avis que vous trouverez bien peu de\nmerci. On dit, ajouta-t-il, que votre cas est tr\u00e8s clair, et que les\nt\u00e9moins vous chargent de fa\u00e7on si positive, qu'il n'y a point \u00e0 y\nr\u00e9sister.\nC'\u00e9tait un coup \u00e0 percer les entrailles m\u00eames d'une qui, comme moi,\n\u00e9tait pli\u00e9e sous un tel fardeau, et je ne pus prononcer une parole,\nbonne ou mauvaise pendant longtemps; enfin j'\u00e9clatai en sanglots et je\nlui dis:\n--Oh! monsieur, que faut-il faire?\n--Ce qu'il faut faire? dit-il. Il faut faire chercher un ministre, pour\nlui parler; car en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, madame Flanders, \u00e0 moins que vous n'ayez de\nbien puissants amis, vous n'\u00eates point une femme faite pour ce monde.\nC'\u00e9taient l\u00e0 des discours sans ambages, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; mais ils me furent\ntr\u00e8s durs, ou du moins je me le figurai. Il me laissa dans la plus\ngrande confusion que l'on puisse s'imaginer, et toute cette nuit je\nrestai \u00e9veill\u00e9e; et maintenant je commen\u00e7ai de dire mes pri\u00e8res, ce que\nje n'avais gu\u00e8re fait auparavant depuis la mort de mon dernier mari, ou\nun peu de temps apr\u00e8s; et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je puis bien appeler ce que je\nfaisais dire mes pri\u00e8res; car j'\u00e9tais dans une telle confusion, et\nj'avais sur l'esprit une telle horreur, que malgr\u00e9 que je pleurasse et\nque je r\u00e9p\u00e9tasse \u00e0 plusieurs reprises l'expression ordinaire:--Mon Dieu,\nayez piti\u00e9 de moi!--je ne m'amenais jamais jusqu'au sens d'\u00eatre une\nmis\u00e9rable p\u00e9cheresse, ainsi que je l'\u00e9tais en effet, et de confesser mes\np\u00e9ch\u00e9s \u00e0 Dieu, et de demander pardon pour l'amour de J\u00e9sus-Christ;\nj'\u00e9tais enfonc\u00e9e dans le sentiment de ma condition, que j'allais passer\nen jugement capital, et que j'\u00e9tais s\u00fbre d'\u00eatre ex\u00e9cut\u00e9e, et voil\u00e0\npourquoi je m'\u00e9criais toute la nuit:\n--Mon Dieu, que vais-je devenir? Mon Dieu, que vais-je faire? Mon Dieu,\nayez piti\u00e9 de moi! et autres choses semblables.\nMa pauvre malheureuse gouvernante \u00e9tait maintenant aussi afflig\u00e9e que\nmoi, et repentante avec infiniment plus de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9, quoiqu'il n'y e\u00fbt\npoint de chance d'accusation port\u00e9e contre elle; non qu'elle ne le\nm\u00e9rit\u00e2t autant que moi, et c'est ce qu'elle disait elle-m\u00eame; mais elle\nn'avait rien fait d'autre pendant bien des ann\u00e9es que de receler ce que\nmoi et d'autres avions vol\u00e9, et de nous encourager \u00e0 le voler. Mais elle\nsanglotait et se d\u00e9menait comme une forcen\u00e9e, se tordant les mains, et\ncriant qu'elle \u00e9tait perdue, qu'elle pensait qu'il y e\u00fbt sur elle une\nmal\u00e9diction du ciel, qu'elle serait damn\u00e9e, qu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 la ruine\nde toutes ses amies, qu'elle avait amen\u00e9 une telle et une telle, et une\ntelle \u00e0 l'\u00e9chafaud; et l\u00e0 elle comptait quelque dix ou onze personnes,\nde certaines desquelles j'ai fait mention, qui \u00e9taient venues \u00e0 une fin\npr\u00e9coce; et qu'\u00e0 cette heure elle \u00e9tait l'occasion de ma perte,\npuisqu'elle m'avait persuad\u00e9e de continuer, alors que je voulais cesser.\nJe l'interrompis l\u00e0:\n--Non, ma m\u00e8re, non, dis-je, ne parlez point ainsi; car vous m'avez\nconseill\u00e9 de me retirer quand j'eus obtenu l'argent du mercier, et quand\nje revins de Harwich, et je ne voulus pas vous \u00e9couter; par ainsi vous\nn'avez point \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 bl\u00e2mer; c'est moi seule qui me suis perdue, et qui me\nsuis amen\u00e9e \u00e0 cette mis\u00e8re!\nEt ainsi nous passions bien des heures ensemble.\nEh bien, il n'y avait point de rem\u00e8de; le proc\u00e8s suivit son cours et le\njeudi je fus transf\u00e9r\u00e9e \u00e0 la maison des assises, o\u00f9 je fus assign\u00e9e,\ncomme ils disent, et le lendemain, je fus appoint\u00e9e pour \u00eatre jug\u00e9e. Sur\nl'assignation je plaidai \u00abnon coupable\u00bb, et bien le pouvais-je, car\nj'\u00e9tais accus\u00e9e de f\u00e9lonie et d\u00e9bris de cl\u00f4ture; c'est \u00e0 savoir d'avoir\nf\u00e9lonieusement vol\u00e9 deux pi\u00e8ces de soie de brocart, estim\u00e9es \u00e0 46\u00a3,\nmarchandises appartenant \u00e0 Anthony Johnson, et d'avoir forc\u00e9 les portes;\nau lieu que je savais tr\u00e8s bien qu'ils ne pouvaient pr\u00e9tendre que\nj'eusse forc\u00e9 les portes, ou seulement soulev\u00e9 un verrou.\nLe vendredi je fus men\u00e9e au jugement. J'avais \u00e9puis\u00e9 mes esprits \u00e0 force\nde pleurer les deux ou trois jours d'avant, si bien que je dormis mieux\nla nuit du jeudi que je n'attendais et que j'eus plus de courage pour\nmon jugement que je n'eusse cru possible d'avoir.\nQuand le jugement fut commenc\u00e9 et que l'acte d'accusation eut \u00e9t\u00e9 lu,\nje voulus parler, mais on me dit qu'il fallait d'abord entendre les\nt\u00e9moins et qu'ensuite on m'entendrait \u00e0 mon tour. Les t\u00e9moins \u00e9taient\nles deux filles, paire de coquines fortes en gueule, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; car bien\nque la chose f\u00fbt vraie, en somme, pourtant elles l'aggrav\u00e8rent \u00e0 un\npoint extr\u00eame, et jur\u00e8rent que j'avais les \u00e9toffes enti\u00e8rement en ma\npossession, que je les avais cach\u00e9es sous mes habits, que je m'en allais\navec, que j'avais pass\u00e9 le seuil d'un pied quand elles se firent voir,\net qu'aussit\u00f4t je franchis le seuil de l'autre pied, de sorte que\nj'\u00e9tais tout \u00e0 fait sortie de la maison, et que je me trouvais dans la\nrue avec les \u00e9toffes avant le moment qu'elles me prirent, et qu'ensuite\nelles m'avaient arr\u00eat\u00e9e et qu'elles avaient trouv\u00e9 les \u00e9toffes sur moi.\nLe fait en somme \u00e9tait vrai; mais j'insistai sur ce qu'elles m'avaient\narr\u00eat\u00e9e avant que j'eusse pass\u00e9 le seuil; ce qui d'ailleurs ne pesait\npas beaucoup; car j'avais pris les \u00e9toffes, et je les aurais emport\u00e9es,\nsi je n'avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 saisie.\nJe plaidai que je n'avais rien vol\u00e9, qu'ils n'avaient rien perdu, que la\nporte \u00e9tait ouverte, et que j'\u00e9tais entr\u00e9e \u00e0 dessein d'acheter: si, ne\nvoyant personne dans la maison, j'avais pris en main aucune des \u00e9toffes,\nil ne fallait point en conclure que j'eusse l'intention de les voler,\npuisque je ne les avais point emport\u00e9es plus loin que la porte, pour\nmieux les regarder \u00e0 la lumi\u00e8re.\nLa cour ne voulut rien accepter de ces moyens, et fit une sorte de\nplaisanterie sur mon intention d'acheter ces \u00e9toffes, puisque ce n'\u00e9tait\npoint l\u00e0 une boutique faite pour en vendre; et quant \u00e0 les avoir port\u00e9es\n\u00e0 la lumi\u00e8re pour les regarder, les servantes firent l\u00e0-dessus\nd'impudentes moqueries, et y d\u00e9pens\u00e8rent tout leur esprit; elles dirent\n\u00e0 la cour que je les avais regard\u00e9es bien suffisamment, et que je les\navais trouv\u00e9es \u00e0 mon go\u00fbt, puisque je les avais empaquet\u00e9es et que je\nm'en allais avec.\nEn somme je fus jug\u00e9e coupable de f\u00e9lonie, et acquitt\u00e9e sur le bris de\ncl\u00f4ture, ce qui ne fut qu'une m\u00e9diocre consolation, \u00e0 cause que le\npremier jugement comportait une sentence de mort, et que le second n'e\u00fbt\npu faire davantage. Le lendemain on m'amena pour entendre la terrible\nsentence; et quand on vint \u00e0 me demander ce que j'avais \u00e0 dire en ma\nfaveur pour en emp\u00eacher l'ex\u00e9cution, je demeurai muette un temps; mais\nquelqu'un m'encouragea tout haut \u00e0 parler aux juges, puisqu'ils\npourraient repr\u00e9senter les choses favorablement pour moi. Ceci me donna\nun peu de coeur, et je leur dis que je ne savais point de raison pour\nemp\u00eacher la sentence, mais que j'avais beaucoup \u00e0 dire pour implorer la\nmerci de la cour; que j'esp\u00e9rais qu'en un tel cas elle me ferait une\npart d'indulgence, puisque je n'avais point forc\u00e9 de porte, que je\nn'avais rien enlev\u00e9, que personne n'avait rien perdu; que l'homme \u00e0 qui\nappartenaient ces \u00e9toffes avait eu assez de bont\u00e9 pour dire qu'il\nd\u00e9sir\u00e2t qu'on me fit merci (ce qu'en effet il avait fort honn\u00eatement\ndit); qu'au pire c'\u00e9tait la premi\u00e8re faute et que je n'avais jamais\nencore comparu en cour de justice; en somme je parlai avec plus de\ncourage que je n'aurais cru pouvoir faire, et d'un ton si \u00e9mouvant, que\nmalgr\u00e9 que je fusse en larmes, qui toutefois n'\u00e9taient pas assez fortes\npour \u00e9touffer ma voix, je pus voir que ceux qui m'entendaient \u00e9taient\n\u00e9mus aux larmes.\nLes juges demeur\u00e8rent graves et silencieux, m'\u00e9cout\u00e8rent avec\ncondescendance, et me donn\u00e8rent le temps de dire tout ce qui me\nplairait; mais n'y disant ni oui ni non, prononc\u00e8rent contre moi la\nsentence de mort: sentence qui me parut la mort m\u00eame, et qui me\nconfondit; je n'avais plus d'esprits en moi; je n'avais point de langue\npour parler, ni d'yeux pour les lever vers Dieu ou les hommes.\nMa pauvre gouvernante \u00e9tait totalement inconsol\u00e9e; et elle qui\nauparavant m'avait r\u00e9confort\u00e9e, avait elle-m\u00eame besoin de l'\u00eatre; et\nparfois se lamentant, parfois furieuse, elle \u00e9tait autant hors du sens\nqu'une folle \u00e0 Bedlam.\nOn peut plut\u00f4t s'imaginer qu'on ne saurait exprimer quelle \u00e9tait\nmaintenant ma condition; je n'avais rien devant moi que la mort; et\ncomme je n'avais pas d'amis pour me secourir, je n'attendais rien que de\ntrouver mon nom dans l'ordre d'ex\u00e9cution qui devait arriver pour le\nsupplice, au vendredi suivant, de cinq autres malheureuses et de\nmoi-m\u00eame.\nCependant ma pauvre malheureuse gouvernante m'envoya un ministre qui sur\nsa requ\u00eate vint me rendre visite. Il m'exhorta s\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 me\nrepentir de tous mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s et \u00e0 ne plus jouer avec mon \u00e2me, ne me\nflattant point d'esp\u00e9rances de vie, \u00e9tant inform\u00e9, dit-il, que je\nn'avais point lieu d'en attendre; mais que sans feinte il fallait me\ntourner vers Dieu de toute mon \u00e2me, et lui crier pardon au nom de\nJ\u00e9sus-Christ. Il fortifia ses discours par des citations appropri\u00e9es de\nl'\u00c9criture, qui encourageaient les plus grands p\u00eacheurs \u00e0 se repentir et\n\u00e0 se d\u00e9tourner du mauvais chemin; et quand il eut fini, il s'agenouilla\net pria avec moi.\nCe fut alors que pour la premi\u00e8re fois j'\u00e9prouvai quelques signes r\u00e9els\nde repentir; je commen\u00e7ai maintenant de consid\u00e9rer ma vie pass\u00e9e avec\nhorreur, et ayant une esp\u00e8ce de vue de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 du temps, les choses\nde la vie, comme je crois qu'il arrive \u00e0 toute personne dans un tel\nmoment, commenc\u00e8rent de prendre un aspect diff\u00e9rent et tout une autre\nforme qu'elles n'avaient fait avant. Les vues de f\u00e9licit\u00e9, de joie, les\ndouleurs de la vie, me parurent des choses enti\u00e8rement chang\u00e9es; et je\nn'avais rien dans mes pens\u00e9es qui ne f\u00fbt si infiniment sup\u00e9rieur \u00e0 tout\nce que j'avais connu dans la vie qu'il me parut de la plus grande\nstupidit\u00e9 d'attacher de l'importance \u00e0 chose qui f\u00fbt, quand elle e\u00fbt la\nplus grande valeur du monde. Le mot \u00abd'\u00e9ternit\u00e9\u00bbse repr\u00e9senta avec\ntoutes ses additions incompr\u00e9hensibles, et j'en eus des notions si\n\u00e9tendues que je ne sais comment les exprimer.\nLe bon gentilhomme fut tellement \u00e9mu par la vue de l'influence que\ntoutes ces choses avaient eue sur moi qu'il b\u00e9nit Dieu qui avait permis\nqu'il me v\u00eent voir et r\u00e9solut de ne pas m'abandonner jusqu'au dernier\nmoment.\nCe ne fut pas moins de douze jours apr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes re\u00e7u notre\nsentence avant que personne f\u00fbt envoy\u00e9 au supplice; et puis l'ordre de\nmort, comme ils disent, arriva, et je trouvai que mon nom \u00e9tait parmi\nles autres. Ce fut un terrible coup pour mes nouvelles r\u00e9solutions; en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 mon coeur s'enfon\u00e7a et je p\u00e2mai deux fois, l'une apr\u00e8s l'autre,\nmais ne pronon\u00e7ai pas une parole. Le bon ministre \u00e9tait bien afflig\u00e9\npour moi et fit ce qu'il put pour me r\u00e9conforter avec les m\u00eames\narguments et la m\u00eame \u00e9loquence touchante qu'il avait fait avant, et ne\nme quitta pas de la soir\u00e9e, tant que les gardiens voulurent lui\npermettre de rester, \u00e0 moins qu'il se f\u00eet clore sous les verrous avec\nmoi toute la nuit, de quoi il ne se souciait point.\nJe m'\u00e9tonnai fort de ne point le voir le lendemain, \u00e9tant le jour avant\ncelui qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 fix\u00e9 pour l'ex\u00e9cution, et j'\u00e9tais infiniment\nd\u00e9courag\u00e9e et d\u00e9prim\u00e9e, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je tombais presque par manque de\ncette consolation qu'il m'avait si souvent, et avec tant de succ\u00e8s,\ndonn\u00e9e lors de ses premi\u00e8res visites. J'attendis avec une grande\nimpatience, et sous la plus grande oppression d'esprit qu'on puisse\ns'imaginer jusqu'environ quatre heures qu'il vint \u00e0 mon appartement: car\nj'avais obtenu la faveur, gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 de l'argent, sans quoi en ce lieu on\nne peut rien faire, de ne pas \u00eatre enferm\u00e9e dans le trou des condamn\u00e9s,\nparmi les autres prisonniers qui allaient mourir, mais d'avoir une sale\npetite chambre pour moi seule.\nMon coeur bondit de joie dans mon sein quand j'entendis sa voix \u00e0 la\nporte, m\u00eame avant que de le voir; mais qu'on juge de l'esp\u00e8ce de\nmouvement qui se fit dans mon \u00e2me lorsque, apr\u00e8s de br\u00e8ves excuses sur\nce qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas venu, il me montra que son temps avait \u00e9t\u00e9 employ\u00e9\npour mon salut, qu'il avait obtenu un rapport favorable de l'assesseur\nqui avait examin\u00e9 mon cas et qu'en somme il m'apportait un sursis.\nIl usa de toute la pr\u00e9caution possible \u00e0 me faire savoir ce qu'il e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 d'une double cruaut\u00e9 de me dissimuler, car ainsi que la douleur\nm'avait boulevers\u00e9e avant, ainsi la joie me bouleversa-t-elle maintenant\net je tombai dans une p\u00e2moison plus dangereuse que la premi\u00e8re, et ce ne\nfut pas sans peine que je revins \u00e0 moi.\nLe lendemain matin il y eut une triste sc\u00e8ne, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, dans la prison.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose dont je fus salu\u00e9e le matin fut le glas du gros\nbourdon du Saint-S\u00e9pulcre qui annon\u00e7ait le jour. Sit\u00f4t qu'il commen\u00e7a \u00e0\ntinter, on entendit retentir de mornes g\u00e9missements et des cris qui\nvenaient du trou des condamn\u00e9s, o\u00f9 gisaient six pauvres \u00e2mes qui\ndevaient \u00eatre ex\u00e9cut\u00e9es ce jour-l\u00e0: les unes pour un crime, les autres\npour un autre, et deux pour assassinat.\nCeci fut suivi d'une confuse clameur dans la maison parmi les diff\u00e9rents\nprisonniers qui exprimaient leurs grossi\u00e8res douleurs pour les pauvres\ncr\u00e9atures qui allaient mourir, mais d'une mani\u00e8re extr\u00eamement\ndissemblable; les uns pleuraient, d'autres poussaient des hourras\nbrutaux et leur souhaitaient bon voyage; d'autres damnaient et\nmaudissaient ceux qui les avaient amen\u00e9s l\u00e0; beaucoup s'apitoyaient; et\npeu d'entre eux, tr\u00e8s peu, priaient pour eux.\nIl n'y avait gu\u00e8re l\u00e0 de place pour le recueillement d'esprit qu'il me\nfallait afin de b\u00e9nir la Providence pleine de merci, qui m'avait, comme\nil \u00e9tait, arrach\u00e9e d'entre les m\u00e2choires de cette destruction; je\nrestais, comme il \u00e9tait, muette et silencieuse, toute submerg\u00e9e par ce\nsentiment, et incapable d'exprimer ce que j'avais dans le coeur; car les\npassions en telles occasions que celles-ci sont certainement trop\nagit\u00e9es pour qu'elles puissent en peu de temps r\u00e9gler leurs propres\nmouvements.\nPendant tout le temps que les pauvres cr\u00e9atures condamn\u00e9es se\npr\u00e9paraient \u00e0 la mort, et que le chapelain, comme on le nomme, se tenait\naupr\u00e8s d'elles pour les disposer \u00e0 se soumettre \u00e0 la sentence; pendant\ntout ce temps, dis-je, je fus saisie d'un tremblement, qui n'\u00e9tait pas\nmoins violent que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 dans la m\u00eame condition que le jour\nd'avant; j'\u00e9tais si fortement agit\u00e9e par ce surprenant acc\u00e8s que j'\u00e9tais\nsecou\u00e9e comme si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 prise d'une fi\u00e8vre, si bien que je ne\npouvais ni parler ni voir, sinon comme une \u00e9gar\u00e9e. Sit\u00f4t qu'on les eut\ntoutes mises dans les charrettes et qu'elles furent parties, ce que\ntoutefois je n'eus pas le courage de regarder, sit\u00f4t, dis-je, qu'elles\nfurent parties, je tombai involontairement dans une crise de larmes,\ncomme si ce f\u00fbt une indisposition soudaine, et pourtant si violente, et\nqui me tint si longtemps que je ne sus quel parti prendre; ni ne\npouvais-je l'arr\u00eater ni l'interrompre, non, malgr\u00e9 tout l'effort et le\ncourage que j'y mettais.\nCette crise de larmes me tint pr\u00e8s de deux heures, et ainsi que je\ncrois, me dura jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'elles fussent toutes sorties de ce monde;\net puis suivit une bien humble, repentante, s\u00e9rieuse esp\u00e8ce de joie; ce\nfut une r\u00e9elle extase ou une passion de gratitude dans laquelle je\npassai la plus grande partie du jour.\nCe fut environ quinze jours apr\u00e8s, que j'eus quelques justes craintes\nd'\u00eatre comprise dans l'ordre d'ex\u00e9cution des assises suivantes; et ce ne\nfut pas sans grande difficult\u00e9, et enfin par humble p\u00e9tition d'\u00eatre\nd\u00e9port\u00e9e que j'y \u00e9chappai; si mal \u00e9tais-je tenue \u00e0 la renomm\u00e9e, et si\nforte \u00e9tait la r\u00e9putation que j'avais d'\u00eatre une ancienne d\u00e9linquante au\nsens de la loi, quoi que je pusse \u00eatre aux yeux des juges, n'ayant\njamais \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9e encore devant eux pour cas judiciaire; de sorte que\nles juges ne pouvaient m'accuser d'\u00eatre une ancienne d\u00e9linquante, mais\nl'assesseur exposa mon cas comme bon lui sembla.\nJ'avais maintenant la certitude de la vie, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, mais avec les\ndures conditions d'\u00eatre condamn\u00e9e \u00e0 \u00eatre d\u00e9port\u00e9e, ce qui \u00e9tait, dis-je,\nune dure condition, en elle-m\u00eame, mais non point si on la consid\u00e8re par\ncomparaison. Et je ne ferai donc pas de commentaires sur la sentence ni\nsur le choix qui me fut donn\u00e9; nous choisissons tous n'importe quoi\nplut\u00f4t que la mort, surtout quand elle est accompagn\u00e9e d'une perspective\naussi d\u00e9plaisante au del\u00e0, ce qui \u00e9tait mon cas.\nJe reviens ici \u00e0 ma gouvernante, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 dangereusement malade,\net ayant approch\u00e9 autant de la mort par sa maladie que moi par ma\nsentence, \u00e9tait extr\u00eamement repentante; je ne l'avais point vue pendant\ntout ce temps; mais comme elle se remettait, et qu'elle pouvait tout\njustement sortir, elle vint me voir.\nJe lui dis ma condition et en quel diff\u00e9rent flux et reflux de craintes\net d'esp\u00e9rances j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 agit\u00e9e; je lui dis \u00e0 quoi j'avais \u00e9chapp\u00e9,\net sous quelles conditions; et elle \u00e9tait pr\u00e9sente lorsque le ministre\ncommen\u00e7a d'exprimer des craintes sur ce que je retomberais dans mon vice\nlorsque je me trouverais m\u00eal\u00e9e \u00e0 l'horrible compagnie que g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement\non d\u00e9porte. En v\u00e9rit\u00e9, j'y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais m\u00e9lancoliquement moi-m\u00eame, car\nje savais bien quelle affreuse bande on embarque d'ordinaire, et je dis\n\u00e0 ma gouvernante que les craintes du bon ministre n'\u00e9tait pas sans\nfondement.\n--Bon, bon! dit-elle, mais j'esp\u00e8re bien que tu ne seras point tent\u00e9e\npar un si affreux exemple.\nEt aussit\u00f4t que le ministre fut parti, elle me dit qu'il ne fallait pas\nme d\u00e9courager; puisque peut-\u00eatre elle trouverait des voies et moyens\npour disposer de moi d'une fa\u00e7on particuli\u00e8re, de quoi elle me parlerait\nplus \u00e0 plein plus tard.\nJe la regardai avec attention, et il me parut qu'elle avait l'air plus\ngai que de coutume, et imm\u00e9diatement j'entretins mille notions d'\u00eatre\nd\u00e9livr\u00e9e, mais n'eusse pu pour ma vie en imaginer les m\u00e9thodes, ni\nsonger \u00e0 une qui f\u00fbt praticable; mais j'y \u00e9tais trop int\u00e9ress\u00e9e pour la\nlaisser partir sans qu'elle s'expliqu\u00e2t, ce que toutefois, elle fut tr\u00e8s\nr\u00e9pugnante \u00e0 faire, mais comme je la pressais toujours, me r\u00e9pondit en\nun peu de mots ainsi:\n--Mais tu as de l'argent, n'est-ce pas? En as-tu d\u00e9j\u00e0 connu une dans ta\nvie qui se f\u00eet d\u00e9porter avec 100\u00a3 dans sa poche? Je te le promets, mon\nenfant, dit-elle.\nJe la compris bien vite, mais lui dis que je ne voyais point lieu\nd'esp\u00e9rer d'autre chose que la stricte ex\u00e9cution de l'ordre, et qu'ainsi\nque c'\u00e9tait une s\u00e9v\u00e9rit\u00e9 qu'on regardait comme une merci, il n'y avait\npoint de doute qu'elle ne serait strictement observ\u00e9e. Elle r\u00e9pondit\nseulement ceci:\n--Nous essayerons ce qu'on peut faire....\nEt ainsi nous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes.\nJe demeurai en prison encore pr\u00e8s de quinze semaines; quelle en fut la\nraison, je n'en sais rien; mais au bout de ce temps, je fus embarqu\u00e9e \u00e0\nbord d'un navire dans la Tamise, et avec moi une bande de treize\ncr\u00e9atures aussi viles et aussi endurcies que Newgate en produisit jamais\nde mon temps: et, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, il faudrait une histoire plus longue que la\nmienne pour d\u00e9crire les degr\u00e9s d'impudence et d'audacieuse coquinerie\nauxquelles ces treize arriv\u00e8rent ainsi que la mani\u00e8re de leur conduite\npendant le voyage; de laquelle je poss\u00e8de un divertissant r\u00e9cit qui me\nfut donn\u00e9 par le capitaine du navire qui les transportait, et qu'il\navait fait \u00e9crire en grand d\u00e9tail par son second.\nOn pourra sans doute penser qu'il est inutile d'entrer ici dans la\nnarration de tous les petits incidents qui me survinrent pendant cet\nintervalle de mes circonstances, je veux dire, entre l'ordre final de ma\nd\u00e9portation et le moment que je m'embarquai, et je suis trop pr\u00e8s de la\nfin de mon histoire pour y donner place; mais je ne saurais omettre une\nchose qui se passa entre moi et mon mari de Lancashire.\nIl avait \u00e9t\u00e9 transf\u00e9r\u00e9, ainsi que je l'ai remarqu\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0 de la section\ndu ma\u00eetre \u00e0 la prison ordinaire, dans le pr\u00e9au, avec trois de ses\ncamarades: car on en trouva un autre \u00e0 leur joindre apr\u00e8s quelque temps;\nl\u00e0, je ne sais pour quelle raison, on les garda sans les mettre en\njugement pr\u00e8s de trois mois. Il semble qu'ils trouv\u00e8rent le moyen de\ncorrompre ou d'acheter quelques-uns de ceux qui devaient t\u00e9moigner\ncontre eux, et qu'on manquait de preuves pour les condamner. Apr\u00e8s\nquelque embarras sur ce sujet, ils s'efforc\u00e8rent d'obtenir assez de\npreuves contre deux d'entre eux pour leur faire passer la mer; mais les\ndeux autres, desquels mon mari du Lancashire \u00e9tait l'un, restaient\nencore en suspens. Ils avaient, je crois, une preuve positive contre\nchacun d'eux; mais la loi les obligeant \u00e0 produire deux t\u00e9moins, ils ne\npouvaient rien en faire; pourtant, ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9solus \u00e0 ne point non\nplus rel\u00e2cher ces hommes; persuad\u00e9s qu'ils \u00e9taient d'obtenir t\u00e9moignage\n\u00e0 la fin et, \u00e0 cet effet, on fit publier, je crois, que tels et tels\nprisonniers avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 arr\u00eat\u00e9s, et que tout le monde pouvait venir \u00e0 la\nprison pour les voir.\nJe saisis cette occasion pour satisfaire ma curiosit\u00e9, feignant d'avoir\n\u00e9t\u00e9 vol\u00e9e dans le coche de Dunstable, et que je voulais voir les deux\nvoleurs de grand'route; mais quand je vins dans le pr\u00e9au, je me d\u00e9guisai\nde telle mani\u00e8re et j'emmitouflai mon visage si bien, qu'il ne put me\nvoir que bien peu, et qu'il ne reconnut nullement qui j'\u00e9tais; mais\nsit\u00f4t que je fus revenue, je dis publiquement que je les connaissais\ntr\u00e8s bien.\nAussit\u00f4t on sut par toute la prison que Moll Flanders allait porter\nt\u00e9moignage contre un des voleurs de grand'route, gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 quoi on me\nremettrait ma sentence de d\u00e9portation.\nIls l'apprirent et imm\u00e9diatement mon mari d\u00e9sira voir cette Mme Flanders\nqui le connaissait si bien et qui allait t\u00e9moigner contre lui; et, en\ncons\u00e9quence, j'eus l'autorisation d'aller le trouver. Je m'habillai\naussi bien que les meilleurs v\u00eatements que je souffris jamais de porter\nl\u00e0 me le permirent, et je me rendis dans le pr\u00e9au; mais j'avais un\nchaperon sur la figure; il me dit bien peu de chose d'abord, mais me\ndemanda si je le connaissais; je lui dis qu' \u00aboui, fort bien\u00bb; mais\nainsi que j'avais cach\u00e9 mon visage, ainsi je contrefis ma voix aussi, et\nil n'eut pas la moindre id\u00e9e de la personne que j'\u00e9tais. Il me demanda\no\u00f9 je l'avais vu; je lui dis entre Dunstable et Brickhill; mais, me\ntournant vers le gardien qui se trouvait l\u00e0, je demandai s'il ne pouvait\nme permettre de lui parler seule. Il dit: \u00abOui, oui\u00bb et tr\u00e8s civilement\nse retira.\nSit\u00f4t qu'il fut parti et que j'eus ferm\u00e9 la porte, je rejetai mon\nchaperon, et \u00e9clatant en larmes:\n--Mon ch\u00e9ri, dis-je, tu ne me reconnais pas?\nIl devint p\u00e2le et demeura sans voix comme un frapp\u00e9 par la foudre, et,\nincapable de vaincre sa surprise, ne dit autre chose que ces mots:\n\u00abLaissez-moi m'asseoir\u00bb; puis, s'asseyant pr\u00e8s de la table, la t\u00eate\nappuy\u00e9e sur sa main, fixa le sol des yeux comme stup\u00e9fi\u00e9. Je pleurais si\nviolemment d'autre part que ce fut un bon moment avant que je pusse\nparler de nouveau; mais apr\u00e8s avoir laiss\u00e9 libre cours \u00e0 ma passion, je\nr\u00e9p\u00e9tai les m\u00eames paroles:\n--Mon ch\u00e9ri, tu ne me reconnais pas?\nSur quoi il r\u00e9pondit: \u00abSi\u00bb, et ne dit plus rien pendant longtemps.\nApr\u00e8s avoir continu\u00e9 dans la m\u00eame surprise il releva les yeux vers moi,\net dit:\n--Comment peux-tu \u00eatre aussi cruelle?\nJe ne compris vraiment pas ce qu'il voulait dire, et je r\u00e9pondis:\n--Comment peux-tu m'appeler cruelle?\n--De venir me trouver, dit-il, en un lieu tel que celui-ci? N'est-ce\npoint pour m'insulter? Je ne t'ai pas vol\u00e9e, du moins sur la\ngrand'route.\nJe vis bien par l\u00e0 qu'il ne savait rien des mis\u00e9rables circonstances o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais, et qu'il pensait qu'ayant appris qu'il se trouvait l\u00e0, je fusse\nvenue lui reprocher de m'avoir abandonn\u00e9e. Mais j'avais trop \u00e0 lui dire\npour me vexer, et je lui expliquai en peu de mots que j'\u00e9tais bien loin\nde venir pour l'insulter, mais qu'au fort j'\u00e9tais venue pour que nous\nnous consolions mutuellement et qu'il verrait bien ais\u00e9ment que je\nn'avais point d'intention semblable quand je lui aurais dit que ma\ncondition \u00e9tait pire que la sienne, et en bien des fa\u00e7ons. Il eut l'air\nun peu inqui\u00e9t\u00e9 sur cette impression que ma condition \u00e9tait pire que la\nsienne, mais avec une sorte de sourire il dit:\n--Comment serait-ce possible? Quand tu me vois encha\u00een\u00e9, et \u00e0 Newgate,\navec deux de mes compagnons d\u00e9j\u00e0 ex\u00e9cut\u00e9s, peux-tu dire que ta condition\nest pire que la mienne?\n--Allons, mon cher, dis-je, nous avons un long ouvrage \u00e0 faire, s'il\nfaut que je conte ou que tu \u00e9coutes mon infortun\u00e9e histoire; mais si tu\nd\u00e9sires l'entendre, tu t'accorderas bien vite avec moi sur ce que ma\ncondition est pire que la tienne.\n--Et comment cela se pourrait-il, dit mon mari, puisque je m'attends \u00e0\npasser en jugement capital \u00e0 la prochaine session m\u00eame?\n--Si, dis-je, cela se peut fort bien, quand je t'aurai dit que j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9\ncondamn\u00e9e \u00e0 mort il y a trois sessions, et que je suis maintenant sous\nsentence de mort: mon cas n'est-il pas pire que le tien?\nAlors, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, il demeura encore silencieux comme un frapp\u00e9 de\nmutisme, et apr\u00e8s un instant il se dressa.\n--Infortun\u00e9 couple, dit-il, comment est-ce possible?\nJe le pris par la main:\n--Allons, mon ami, dis-je, assieds-toi et comparons nos douleurs; je\nsuis prisonni\u00e8re dans cette m\u00eame maison, et en bien plus mauvaise\ncondition que toi, et tu seras convaincu que je ne suis point venue pour\nt'insulter quand je t'en dirai les d\u00e9tails.\nEt l\u00e0-dessus nous nous ass\u00eemes tout deux, et je lui contai autant de mon\nhistoire que je pensai convenable, arrivant enfin \u00e0 ce que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9\nr\u00e9duite \u00e0 une grande pauvret\u00e9, et me repr\u00e9sentant comme tomb\u00e9e dans une\ncompagnie qui m'avait entra\u00een\u00e9e \u00e0 soulager mes d\u00e9tresses en une fa\u00e7on\npour moi inaccoutum\u00e9e; et qu'eux ayant fait une tentative sur la maison\nd'un marchand, j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 arr\u00eat\u00e9e pour n'avoir fait qu'aller jusqu'\u00e0 la\nporte, une fille de service m'ayant saisie \u00e0 l'improviste; que je\nn'avais point forc\u00e9 de serrure ni rien enlev\u00e9 et que ce nonobstant\nj'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 reconnue coupable et condamn\u00e9e \u00e0 mourir, mais que les juges\nayant \u00e9t\u00e9 touch\u00e9s par la duret\u00e9 de ma condition, avaient obtenu pour moi\nla faveur d'\u00eatre d\u00e9port\u00e9e.\nJe lui dis que j'avais eu d'autant plus de malheur que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 prise\ndans la prison pour une certaine Moll Flanders qui \u00e9tait une grande et\nc\u00e9l\u00e8bre voleuse dont ils avaient tous entendu parler, mais qu'aucun\nd'eux n'avait jamais vue; mais qu'il savait bien que ce n'\u00e9tait point l\u00e0\nmon nom. Mais je pla\u00e7ai tout sur le compte de ma mauvaise fortune; et\nque sous ce nom j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 trait\u00e9e comme une ancienne d\u00e9linquante,\nmalgr\u00e9 que ce f\u00fbt la premi\u00e8re chose qu'ils eussent jamais sue de moi. Je\nlui fis un long r\u00e9cit de ce qui m'\u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 depuis qu'il m'avait vue;\nmais lui dis que je l'avais revu depuis et sans qu'il s'en f\u00fbt dout\u00e9;\npuis je lui racontai comment je l'avais vu \u00e0 Brickhill; comment il \u00e9tait\npoursuivi; et comment, en d\u00e9clarant que je le connaissais et que c'\u00e9tait\nun fort honn\u00eate gentilhomme, j'avais arr\u00eat\u00e9 la hu\u00e9e et que le\ncommissaire s'en \u00e9tait retourn\u00e9.\nIl \u00e9couta tr\u00e8s attentivement toute mon histoire, et sourit de mes\naventures, \u00e9tant toutes infiniment au-dessous de celles qu'il avait\ndirig\u00e9es en chef; mais quand je vins \u00e0 l'histoire de Little Brickhill,\nil demeura surpris:\n--Alors c'\u00e9tait toi, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, qui arr\u00eatas la populace \u00e0\nBrickhill?\n--Oui, dis-je, c'\u00e9tait moi, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9;--et je lui dis les d\u00e9tails que\nj'avais observ\u00e9s alors \u00e0 son sujet.\n--Mais alors, dit-il, c'est toi qui m'as sauv\u00e9 la vie dans ce temps; et\nje suis heureux de te devoir la vie, \u00e0 toi; car je vais m'acquitter de\nma dette \u00e0 cette heure, et te d\u00e9livrer de la condition o\u00f9 tu es,\nduss\u00e9-je y p\u00e9rir.\nJe lui dis qu'il n'en fallait rien faire; que c'\u00e9tait un risque trop\ngrand, et qui ne valait pas qu'il en cour\u00fbt le hasard, et pour une vie\nqui ne valait gu\u00e8re qu'il la sauv\u00e2t. Peu importait, dit-il; c'\u00e9tait pour\nlui une vie qui valait tout au monde, une vie qui lui avait donn\u00e9 une\nnouvelle vie; \u00abcar, dit-il, je n'ai jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans un v\u00e9ritable danger\nque cette fois-l\u00e0, jusqu'\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re minute o\u00f9 j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 pris.\u00bb Et en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 son danger \u00e0 ce moment \u00e9tait en ce qu'il pensait qu'il n'e\u00fbt\npoint \u00e9t\u00e9 poursuivi par l\u00e0; car ils avaient d\u00e9camp\u00e9 de Hocksley par un\ntout autre chemin; et ils \u00e9taient arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 Brickhill \u00e0 travers champs,\npar-dessus les haies, persuad\u00e9s de n'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 vus par personne.\nIci il me donna une longue histoire de sa vie, qui en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, ferait une\ntr\u00e8s \u00e9trange histoire, et serait infiniment divertissante; et me dit\nqu'il avait pris la grand'route environ douze ans avant de m'avoir\n\u00e9pous\u00e9e; que la femme qui l'appelait \u00abfr\u00e8re\u00bbn'\u00e9tait point sa parente,\nmais une qui \u00e9tait affili\u00e9e \u00e0 leur clique, et qui, tenant correspondance\navec eux, vivait toujours en ville, \u00e0 cause qu'elle avait beaucoup de\nconnaissances; qu'elle les avertissait fort exactement sur les personnes\nqui sortaient de la ville, et qu'ils avaient fait de riches butins sur\nses renseignements; qu'elle pensait avoir mis la main sur la fortune\npour lui, quand elle m'avait amen\u00e9e \u00e0 lui, mais qu'il s'\u00e9tait trouv\u00e9\nqu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9\u00e7ue, ce dont il ne pouvait vraiment lui vouloir; que\nsi j'avais eu un \u00e9tat, ainsi qu'elle en avait \u00e9t\u00e9 inform\u00e9e, il avait\nr\u00e9solu de quitter la grand'route et de vivre d'une nouvelle vie, sans\njamais para\u00eetre en public avant qu'on e\u00fbt publi\u00e9 quelque pardon g\u00e9n\u00e9ral,\no\u00f9 qu'il e\u00fbt pu faire mettre son nom, pour de l'argent, dans quelque\nr\u00e9mission particuli\u00e8re, de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 \u00eatre parfaitement \u00e0 l'aise; mais que\nles choses ayant tourn\u00e9 autrement, il avait d\u00fb reprendre son vieux\nm\u00e9tier.\nIl me fit un long r\u00e9cit de quelques-unes de ses aventures, et en\nparticulier d'une o\u00f9 il pilla les coches de West-Chester, pr\u00e8s\nLichfield, o\u00f9 il fit un gros butin; et ensuite, comment il vola cinq\n\u00e9leveurs dans l'Ouest, qui s'en allaient \u00e0 la foire de Burford, en\nWiltshire, pour acheter des moutons; il me dit qu'il avait pris tant\nd'argent sur ces deux coups que s'il e\u00fbt su o\u00f9 me trouver, il aurait\ncertainement accept\u00e9 ma proposition d'aller tous deux en Virginie; ou de\nnous \u00e9tablir sur une plantation ou dans quelque autre colonie anglaise\nd'Am\u00e9rique.\nIl me dit qu'il m'avait \u00e9crit trois lettres et qu'il les avait\nadress\u00e9es conform\u00e9ment \u00e0 ce que je lui avais dit, mais qu'il n'avait\npoint eu de mes nouvelles. C'est ce que je savais bien, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; mais\nces lettres m'\u00e9tant venues en main dans le temps de mon dernier mari, je\nn'y pouvais rien faire, et je n'avais donc point fait de r\u00e9ponse, afin\nqu'il pens\u00e2t qu'elles se fussent perdues.\nJe m'enquis alors des circonstances de son cas pr\u00e9sent, et de ce qu'il\nattendait quand il viendrait \u00e0 \u00eatre jug\u00e9. Il me dit qu'il n'y avait\npoint de preuves contre lui; \u00e0 cause que sur les trois vols dont on les\naccusait tous, c'\u00e9tait sa bonne fortune qu'il n'y en e\u00fbt qu'un o\u00f9 il e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 m\u00eal\u00e9; et qu'on ne pouvait trouver qu'un t\u00e9moin sur ce fait, ce qui\nn'\u00e9tait pas suffisant; mais qu'on esp\u00e9rait que d'autres se\npr\u00e9senteraient, et qu'il pensait, quand d'abord il me vit, que j'en\nfusse une qui \u00e9tait venue \u00e0 ce dessein; mais que si personne ne se\npr\u00e9sentait contre lui, il esp\u00e9rait qu'il serait absous; qu'on lui avait\ninsinu\u00e9 que s'il se soumettait \u00e0 la d\u00e9portation, on la lui accorderait\nsans jugement, mais qu'il ne pouvait point s'y r\u00e9signer, et qu'il\npensait qu'il pr\u00e9f\u00e9rerait encore la potence.\nJe le bl\u00e2mai l\u00e0-dessus; d'abord \u00e0 cause que, s'il \u00e9tait d\u00e9port\u00e9, il\npouvait y avoir cent fa\u00e7ons pour lui, qui \u00e9tait gentilhomme et hardi\naventurier d'entreprise, de trouver moyen de revenir; et peut-\u00eatre\nquelques voies et moyens de retourner avant que de partir. Il me sourit\nsur cette partie, et dit que c'\u00e9tait la derni\u00e8re chose qu'il pr\u00e9f\u00e9rait,\nayant une certaine horreur dans l'esprit \u00e0 se faire envoyer aux\nplantations, ainsi que les Romains envoyaient des esclaves travailler\ndans les mines; qu'il pensait que le passage en un autre monde f\u00fbt\nbeaucoup plus supportable \u00e0 la potence, et, que c'\u00e9tait l'opinion\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale de tous les gentilshommes qui \u00e9taient pouss\u00e9s par les exigences\nde leurs fortunes \u00e0 se mettre sur le grand chemin; que sur la place\nd'ex\u00e9cution on trouvait au moins la fin de toutes les mis\u00e8res de l'\u00e9tat\npr\u00e9sent; et que, pour ce qui venait apr\u00e8s, \u00e0 son avis, un homme avait\nautant de chances de se repentir sinc\u00e8rement pendant les derniers quinze\njours de son existence, sous les agonies de la ge\u00f4le et du trou des\ncondamn\u00e9s, qu'il en aurait jamais dans les for\u00eats et d\u00e9serts de\nl'Am\u00e9rique; que la servitude et les travaux forc\u00e9s \u00e9taient des choses\nauxquelles des gentilshommes ne pouvaient jamais s'abaisser; que ce\nn'\u00e9tait qu'un moyen de les forcer \u00e0 se faire leurs propres bourreaux, ce\nqui \u00e9tait bien pire, et qu'il ne pouvait avoir de patience, m\u00eame quand\nil ne faisait qu'y penser.\nJ'usai de mes efforts extr\u00eames pour le persuader, et j'y joignis\nl'\u00e9loquence connue d'une femme, je veux dire celle des larmes. Je lui\ndis que l'infamie d'une ex\u00e9cution publique devait peser plus lourdement\nsur les esprits d'un gentilhomme qu'aucune mortification qu'il p\u00fbt\nrencontrer par del\u00e0 la mer; qu'au moins dans l'autre cas il avait une\nchance de vivre, tandis que l\u00e0 il n'en avait point; que ce serait pour\nlui la chose la plus ais\u00e9e du monde que de s'assurer d'un capitaine de\nnavire, \u00e9tant d'ordinaire gens de bonne humeur; et qu'avec un peu de\nconduite, surtout s'il pouvait se procurer de l'argent, il trouverait\nmoyen de se racheter quand il arriverait en Virginie.\nIl me jeta un regard plein de d\u00e9sir, et je devinai qu'il voulait dire\nqu'il n'avait point d'argent; mais je me trompais; ce n'\u00e9tait point l\u00e0\nce qu'il entendait.\n--Tu viens de me donner \u00e0 entendre, ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, qu'il pourrait y\navoir un moyen de revenir avant que de partir, par quoi j'ai entendu\nqu'il pourrait \u00eatre possible de se racheter ici. J'aimerais mieux donner\ndeux cents livres pour \u00e9viter de partir que cent livres pour avoir ma\nlibert\u00e9, une fois que je serai l\u00e0-bas.\n--C'est que, dis-je, mon cher, tu ne connais pas le pays aussi bien que\nmoi.\n--Il se peut, dit-il; et pourtant je crois, si bien que tu le\nconnaisses, que tu ferais de m\u00eame; \u00e0 moins que ce ne soit, ainsi que tu\nme l'as dit, parce que tu as ta m\u00e8re l\u00e0-bas.\nJe lui dis que pour ma m\u00e8re, elle devait \u00eatre morte depuis bien des\nann\u00e9es; et que pour les autres parents que j'y pouvais avoir, je ne les\nconnaissais point; que depuis que mes infortunes m'avaient r\u00e9duite \u00e0 la\ncondition, o\u00f9 j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 depuis plusieurs ann\u00e9es, j'avais cess\u00e9 toute\ncorrespondance avec eux; et qu'il pouvait bien croire que je serais\nre\u00e7ue assez froidement s'il fallait que je leur fisse d'abord visite\ndans la condition d'une voleuse d\u00e9port\u00e9e; que par ainsi, au cas o\u00f9\nj'irais l\u00e0-bas, j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solue \u00e0 ne les point voir; mais que j'avais\nbien des vues sur ce voyage, qui en \u00f4teraient toutes les parties\np\u00e9nibles; et que s'il se trouvait oblig\u00e9 d'y aller aussi, je lui\nenseignerais ais\u00e9ment comment il fallait s'y prendre pour ne jamais\nentrer en servitude, surtout puisque je trouvais qu'il ne manquait pas\nd'argent, qui est le seul ami v\u00e9ritable dans cette esp\u00e8ce de condition.\nIl me sourit et me r\u00e9pondit qu'il ne m'avait point dit qu'il e\u00fbt de\nl'argent. Je le repris du court et lui dis que j'esp\u00e9rais qu'il n'avait\npoint entendu par mon discours que j'attendisse aucun secours de lui,\ns'il avait de l'argent; qu'au contraire, malgr\u00e9 que je n'en eusse pas\nbeaucoup, pourtant je n'\u00e9tais pas dans le besoin, et que pendant que\nj'en aurais, j'ajouterais plut\u00f4t \u00e0 sa r\u00e9serve que je ne l'affaiblirais,\nsachant bien que quoi qu'il e\u00fbt, en cas de d\u00e9portation, il lui faudrait\nle d\u00e9penser jusqu'au dernier liard.\nIl s'exprima sur ce chef de la mani\u00e8re la plus tendre. Il me dit que\nl'argent qu'il avait n'\u00e9tait point une somme consid\u00e9rable, mais qu'il ne\nm'en cacherait jamais une parcelle si j'en avais besoin; et m'assura\nqu'il n'avait nullement parl\u00e9 avec de telles intentions; qu'il \u00e9tait\nseulement attentif \u00e0 ce que je lui avais sugg\u00e9r\u00e9; qu'ici il savait bien\nquoi faire, mais que l\u00e0-bas il serait le mis\u00e9rable le plus impuissant\nqui f\u00fbt au monde. Je lui dis qu'il s'effrayait d'une chose o\u00f9 il n'y\navait point de terreur; que s'il avait de l'argent, ainsi que j'\u00e9tais\nheureuse de l'apprendre, il pouvait non seulement \u00e9chapper \u00e0 la\nservitude qu'il consid\u00e9rait comme la cons\u00e9quence de la d\u00e9portation, mais\nencore recommencer la vie sur un fondement si nouveau, qu'il ne pouvait\nmanquer d'y trouver le succ\u00e8s s'il y donnait seulement l'application\ncommune qui est usuelle en de telles conditions; qu'il devait bien se\nsouvenir que je le lui avais conseill\u00e9 il y avait bien des ann\u00e9es et que\nje lui avais propos\u00e9 ce moyen de restaurer nos fortunes en ce monde.\nJ'ajoutai qu'afin de le convaincre tout ensemble de la certitude de ce\nque je disais, de la connaissance que j'avais de la m\u00e9thode qu'il\nfallait prendre, et de la probabilit\u00e9 du succ\u00e8s, il me verrait d'abord\nme d\u00e9livrer moi-m\u00eame de la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de passer la mer et puis que je\npartirais avec lui librement, de mon plein gr\u00e9 et que peut-\u00eatre\nj'emporterais avec moi assez pour le satisfaire: que je ne lui faisais\npoint cette proposition parce qu'il ne m'\u00e9tait pas possible de vivre\nsans son aide; mais que je pensais que nos infortunes mutuelles eussent\n\u00e9t\u00e9 telles qu'elles \u00e9taient suffisantes \u00e0 nous accommoder tous deux \u00e0\nquitter cette partie du monde pour aller vivre en un lieu o\u00f9 personne ne\npourrait nous reprocher le pass\u00e9, et o\u00f9 nous serions libres, sans les\ntortures d'un cachot de condamn\u00e9s pour nous y forcer, de consid\u00e9rer tous\nnos d\u00e9sastres pass\u00e9s avec infiniment de satisfaction, regardant que nos\nennemis nous oublieraient enti\u00e8rement, et que nous vivrions comme\nnouveaux hommes dans un nouveau monde, n'y ayant personne qui e\u00fbt droit\nde rien nous dire, ou nous \u00e0 eux.\nJe lui poussai tous ces arguments avec tant d'ardeur et je r\u00e9pondis avec\ntant d'effet \u00e0 toutes ses objections passionn\u00e9es, qu'il m'embrassa et me\ndit que je le traitais avec une sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 \u00e0 laquelle il ne pouvait\nr\u00e9sister; qu'il allait accepter mon conseil et s'efforcer de se\nsoumettre \u00e0 son destin dans l'esp\u00e9rance de trouver le confort d'une si\nfid\u00e8le conseill\u00e8re et d'une telle compagne de mis\u00e8re; mais encore\nvoulut-il me rappeler ce que j'avais dit avant, \u00e0 savoir qu'il pouvait y\navoir quelque moyen de se lib\u00e9rer, avant de partir, et qu'il pouvait\n\u00eatre possible d'\u00e9viter enti\u00e8rement le d\u00e9part, ce qui \u00e0 son avis valait\nbeaucoup mieux.\nNous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes apr\u00e8s cette longue conf\u00e9rence avec des t\u00e9moignages\nde tendresse et d'affection que je pensai qui \u00e9taient \u00e9gaux sinon\nsup\u00e9rieurs \u00e0 ceux de notre s\u00e9paration de Dunstable.\nEnfin, apr\u00e8s beaucoup de difficult\u00e9s, il consentit \u00e0 partir; et comme il\nne fut pas l\u00e0-dessus admis \u00e0 la d\u00e9portation devant la cour, et sur\np\u00e9tition, ainsi que je l'avais \u00e9t\u00e9, il se trouva dans l'impossibilit\u00e9\nd'\u00e9viter l'embarquement ainsi que je pensais qu'il pouvait le faire.\nLe moment de ma propre d\u00e9portation s'approchait. Ma gouvernante qui\ncontinuait \u00e0 se montrer amie d\u00e9vou\u00e9e avait tent\u00e9 d'obtenir un pardon,\nmais n'avait pu r\u00e9ussir \u00e0 moins d'avoir pay\u00e9 une somme trop lourde pour\nma bourse, puisque de la laisser vide, \u00e0 moins de me r\u00e9soudre \u00e0\nreprendre mon vieux m\u00e9tier, e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 pire que la d\u00e9portation, \u00e0 cause que\nl\u00e0-bas je pouvais vivre, et ici non.\nC'est au mois de f\u00e9vrier que je fus, avec treize autres for\u00e7ats, remise\n\u00e0 un marchand qui faisait commerce avec la Virginie, \u00e0 bord d'un navire\n\u00e0 l'ancre dans Deptford Reach, l'officier de la prison nous mena \u00e0 bord,\net le ma\u00eetre du vaisseau signa le re\u00e7u.\nCette nuit-l\u00e0 on ferma les \u00e9coutilles sur nous, et on nous tint si\n\u00e9troitement enferm\u00e9s que je pensai \u00e9touffer par manque d'air; et le\nlendemain matin le navire leva l'ancre et descendit la rivi\u00e8re jusqu'\u00e0\nun lieu nomm\u00e9 Bugby's Hole; chose qui fut faite, nous dit-on, d'accord\navec le marchand, afin de nous retirer toute chance d'\u00e9vasion. Cependant\nquand le navire fut arriv\u00e9 l\u00e0 et eut jet\u00e9 l'ancre, nous e\u00fbmes\nl'autorisation de monter sur le franc tillac, mais non sur le pont,\n\u00e9tant particuli\u00e8rement r\u00e9serv\u00e9 au capitaine et aux passagers.\nQuand par le tumulte des hommes au-dessus de ma t\u00eate, et par le\nmouvement du navire je m'aper\u00e7us que nous \u00e9tions sous voile, je fus\nd'abord grandement surprise, craignant que nous fussions partis sans que\nnos amis eussent pu venir nous voir; mais je me rassurai bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s,\nvoyant qu'on avait jet\u00e9 l'ancre, et que nous f\u00fbmes avertis par quelques\nhommes que nous aurions le matin suivant la libert\u00e9 de monter sur le\ntillac et de parler \u00e0 nos amis qui nous viendraient voir.\nToute cette nuit je couchai sur la dure, comme les autres prisonniers;\nmais ensuite on nous donna de petites cabines--du moins \u00e0 ceux qui\navaient quelque literie \u00e0 y mettre, ainsi qu'un coin pour les malles ou\ncaisses de v\u00eatements ou de linge, si nous en avions (ce qu'on peut bien\najouter), car quelques-uns n'avaient point de chemise de linge ou de\nlaine que celle qui \u00e9tait sur leur dos, et pas un denier pour se tirer\nd'affaire; pourtant ils ne furent pas trop malheureux \u00e0 bord, surtout\nles femmes, \u00e0 qui les marins donnaient de l'argent pour laver leur\nlinge, etc., ce qui leur suffisait pour acheter ce dont elles avaient\nbesoin.\nQuand, le matin suivant, nous e\u00fbmes la libert\u00e9 de monter sur le tillac,\nje demandai \u00e0 l'un des officiers si je ne pouvais \u00eatre autoris\u00e9e \u00e0\nenvoyer une lettre \u00e0 terre pour mes amis, afin de leur faire savoir\nl'endroit o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions et de me faire envoyer quelques choses\nn\u00e9cessaires. C'\u00e9tait le bosseman, homme fort civil et affable, qui me\ndit que j'aurais toute libert\u00e9 que je d\u00e9sirerais et qu'il p\u00fbt me donner\nsans imprudence; je lui dis que je n'en d\u00e9sirais point d'autre et il me\nr\u00e9pondit que le canot du navire irait \u00e0 Londres \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e suivante, et\nqu'il donnerait ordre qu'on port\u00e2t ma lettre.\nEn effet quand le canot partit, le bosseman vint m'en avertir, me dit\nqu'il y montait lui-m\u00eame, et que si ma lettre \u00e9tait pr\u00eate, il en\nprendrait soin. J'avais pr\u00e9par\u00e9 d'avance plume, encre et papier, et\nj'avais fait une lettre adress\u00e9e \u00e0 ma gouvernante dans laquelle j'en\navais enferm\u00e9 une autre pour mon camarade de prison: mais je ne lui\nlaissai pas savoir que c'\u00e9tait mon mari, et je le lui cachai jusqu'\u00e0 la\nfin. Dans ma lettre \u00e0 ma gouvernante je lui disais l'endroit o\u00f9 \u00e9tait le\nnavire et la pressais de m'envoyer les effets qu'elle m'avait pr\u00e9par\u00e9s\npour le voyage.\nQuand je remis ma lettre au bosseman, je lui donnai en m\u00eame temps un\nshilling et je lui dis que ce serait pour payer le commissionnaire que\nje le suppliais de charger de la lettre sit\u00f4t qu'il viendrait \u00e0 terre,\nafin que, si possible, j'eusse une r\u00e9ponse rapport\u00e9e de la m\u00eame main, et\nque j'apprisse ce que devenaient mes effets.\n--Car, monsieur, dis-je, si le navire part avant que je les aie re\u00e7us,\nje suis perdue.\nJe pris garde, en lui donnant le shilling, de lui faire voir que j'en\n\u00e9tais mieux fournie que les prisonniers ordinaires; que j'avais une\nbourse, o\u00f9 il ne manquait pas d'argent; et je trouvai que cette vue\nseule m'attira un traitement tr\u00e8s diff\u00e9rent de celui que j'eusse\nautrement subi; car bien qu'il f\u00fbt civil vraiment, auparavant, c'\u00e9tait\npar une sorte de compassion naturelle qu'il ressentait pour une femme\ndans la d\u00e9tresse; tandis qu'il le fut plus qu'\u00e0 l'ordinaire apr\u00e8s, et me\nfit mieux traiter dans le navire, dis-je, qu'autrement je ne l'eusse\n\u00e9t\u00e9; ainsi qu'il para\u00eetra en lieu et place.\nIl remit fort honn\u00eatement ma lettre dans les propres mains de ma\ngouvernante et me rapporta sa r\u00e9ponse. Et quand il me la donna il me\nrendit le shilling:\n--Tenez, dit-il, voil\u00e0 votre shilling que je vous rends, car j'ai remis\nla lettre moi-m\u00eame.\nJe ne sus que dire; j'\u00e9tais toute surprise; mais apr\u00e8s une pause je\nr\u00e9pondis:\n--Monsieur, vous \u00eates trop bon; ce n'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 que justice que vous vous\nfussiez alors pay\u00e9 du message.\n--Non, non, dit-il, je ne suis que trop pay\u00e9. Qui est cette dame? Est-ce\nvotre soeur?\n--Non, monsieur, dis-je; ce n'est point ma parente; mais c'est une tr\u00e8s\nch\u00e8re amie, et la seule amie que j'aie au monde.\n--Eh bien! dit-il, il y a peu d'amies semblables. Figurez-vous qu'elle\npleure comme une enfant.\n--Ah! oui, fis-je encore: je crois bien qu'elle donnerait cent livres\npour me d\u00e9livrer de cette affreuse condition.\n--Vraiment oui! dit-il,--mais je pense que pour la moiti\u00e9 je pourrais\nbien vous mettre en mesure de vous d\u00e9livrer.\nMais il dit ces paroles si bas que personne ne put l'entendre.\n--H\u00e9las, monsieur, fis-je, mais alors ce serait une d\u00e9livrance telle que\nsi j'\u00e9tais reprise, il m'en co\u00fbterait la vie.\n--Oui bien, dit-il, une fois hors du navire, il faudrait prendre bonne\ngarde, \u00e0 l'avenir: je n'y puis rien dire.\nEt nous ne t\u00eenmes pas plus de discours pour l'instant.\nCependant ma gouvernante, fid\u00e8le jusqu'au dernier moment, fit passer ma\nlettre dans la prison \u00e0 mon mari, et se chargea de la r\u00e9ponse; et le\nlendemain elle arriva elle-m\u00eame, m'apportant d'abord un hamac, comme on\ndit, avec la fourniture ordinaire; elle m'apporta aussi un coffre de\nmer, c'est \u00e0 savoir un de ces coffres qu'on fabrique pour les marins,\navec toutes les commodit\u00e9s qui y sont contenues, et plein de presque\ntout ce dont je pouvais avoir besoin; et dans un des coins du coffre, o\u00f9\nil y avait un tiroir secret, \u00e9tait ma banque--c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'elle y\navait serr\u00e9 autant d'argent que j'avais r\u00e9solu d'emporter avec moi; car\nj'avais ordonn\u00e9 qu'on conserv\u00e2t une partie de mon fonds, afin qu'elle\np\u00fbt m'envoyer ensuite tels effets dont j'aurais besoin quand je\nviendrais \u00e0 m'\u00e9tablir: car l'argent dans cette contr\u00e9e ne sert pas \u00e0\ngrand'chose, o\u00f9 on ach\u00e8te tout pour du tabac; \u00e0 plus forte raison est-ce\ngrand dommage d'en emporter d'ici.\nMais mon cas \u00e9tait particulier; il n'\u00e9tait point bon pour moi de partir\nsans effets ni argent; et d'autre part pour une pauvre d\u00e9port\u00e9e qui\nallait \u00eatre vendue sit\u00f4t qu'elle arriverait \u00e0 terre, d'emporter une\ncargaison de marchandises, cela e\u00fbt attir\u00e9 l'attention, et les e\u00fbt\npeut-\u00eatre fait saisir; de sorte que j'emportai ainsi une partie de mon\nfonds, et que je laissai le reste \u00e0 ma gouvernante.\nMa gouvernante m'apporta un grand nombre d'autres effets; mais il ne\nconvenait pas que je fisse trop la brave du moins avant de savoir\nl'esp\u00e8ce de capitaine que nous aurions. Quand elle entra dans le navire,\nje pensai qu'elle allait mourir vraiment; son coeur s'enfon\u00e7a, quand\nelle me vit, \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e de me quitter en cette condition; et elle\npleura d'une mani\u00e8re si intol\u00e9rable que je fus longtemps avant de\npouvoir lui parler.\nJe profitai de ce temps pour lire la lettre de mon camarade de prison,\ndont je fus \u00e9trangement embarrass\u00e9e. Il me disait qu'il lui serait\nimpossible de se faire d\u00e9charger \u00e0 temps pour partir dans le m\u00eame\nvaisseau: et par-dessus tout, il commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se demander si on voudrait\nbien lui permettre de partir dans le vaisseau qu'il lui plairait, bien\nqu'il consentit \u00e0 \u00eatre d\u00e9port\u00e9 de plein gr\u00e9, mais qu'on le ferait mettre\n\u00e0 bord de tel navire qu'on d\u00e9signerait, o\u00f9 il serait consign\u00e9 au\ncapitaine ainsi qu'on fait pour les autres for\u00e7ats; tel qu'il commen\u00e7ait\n\u00e0 d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer de me voir avant d'arriver en Virginie, d'o\u00f9 il pensait\ndevenir forcen\u00e9; regardant que si, d'autre part, je n'\u00e9tais point l\u00e0, au\ncas o\u00f9 quelque accident de mer ou de mortalit\u00e9 m'enl\u00e8verait, il serait\nla cr\u00e9ature la plus d\u00e9sol\u00e9e du monde.\nC'\u00e9tait une chose fort embarrassante, et je ne savais quel parti\nprendre: je dis \u00e0 ma gouvernante l'histoire du bosseman, et elle me\npoussa fort ardemment \u00e0 traiter avec lui, mais je n'en avais point\nd'envie, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'eusse appris si mon mari, ou mon camarade de\nprison, comme elle l'appelait, aurait la libert\u00e9 de partir avec moi, ou\nnon. Enfin je fus forc\u00e9e de lui livrer le secret de toute l'affaire,\nexcept\u00e9 toutefois de lui dire que c'\u00e9tait mon mari, je lui dis que\nj'avais convenu fermement avec lui de partir, s'il pouvait avoir la\nlibert\u00e9 de partir dans le m\u00eame vaisseau, et que je savais qu'il avait de\nl'argent.\nPuis je lui dis ce que je me proposais de faire quand nous arriverions\nl\u00e0-bas, comment nous pourrions planter, nous \u00e9tablir, devenir riches, en\nsomme, sans plus d'aventures; et, comme un grand secret, je lui dis que\nnous devions nous marier sit\u00f4t qu'il viendrait \u00e0 bord.\nElle ne tarda pas \u00e0 acquiescer joyeusement \u00e0 mon d\u00e9part, quand elle\napprit tout cela, et \u00e0 partir de ce moment elle fit son affaire de voir\n\u00e0 ce qu'il f\u00fbt d\u00e9livr\u00e9 \u00e0 temps de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 embarquer dans le m\u00eame\nvaisseau que moi, ce qui put se faire enfin, bien qu'avec une grande\ndifficult\u00e9, et non sans qu'il pass\u00e2t toutes les formalit\u00e9s d'un for\u00e7at\nd\u00e9port\u00e9, ce qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas en r\u00e9alit\u00e9, puisqu'il n'avait point \u00e9t\u00e9\njug\u00e9, et qui fut une grande mortification pour lui.\nComme notre sort \u00e9tait maintenant d\u00e9termin\u00e9 et que nous \u00e9tions tous deux\nembarqu\u00e9s \u00e0 r\u00e9elle destination de la Virginie, dans la m\u00e9prisable\nqualit\u00e9 de for\u00e7ats transport\u00e9s destin\u00e9s \u00e0 \u00eatre vendus comme esclaves,\nmoi pour cinq ans, et lui tenu sous engagement et caution de ne plus\njamais revenir en Angleterre tant qu'il vivrait, il \u00e9tait fort triste et\nd\u00e9prim\u00e9; la mortification d'\u00eatre ramen\u00e9 \u00e0 bord ainsi qu'il l'avait \u00e9t\u00e9\ncomme un prisonnier le piquait infiniment, puisqu'on lui avait dit en\npremier lieu qu'il serait d\u00e9port\u00e9 de fa\u00e7on qu'il par\u00fbt gentilhomme en\nlibert\u00e9: il est vrai qu'on n'avait point donn\u00e9 ordre de le vendre\nlorsqu'il arriverait l\u00e0-bas, ainsi qu'on l'avait fait pour nous, et pour\ncette raison il fut oblig\u00e9 de payer son passage au capitaine, \u00e0 quoi\nnous n'\u00e9tions point tenus: pour le reste, il \u00e9tait autant hors d'\u00e9tat\nqu'un enfant de faire quoi que ce f\u00fbt sinon par instructions.\nCependant je demeurai dans une condition incertaine trois grandes\nsemaines, ne sachant si j'aurais mon mari avec moi ou non, et en\ncons\u00e9quence n'\u00e9tant point r\u00e9solue sur la mani\u00e8re dont je devais recevoir\nla proposition de l'honn\u00eate bosseman, ce qui en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 lui parut assez\n\u00e9trange.\nAu bout de ce temps, voici mon mari venir \u00e0 bord; il avait le visage\ncol\u00e8re et morne; son grand coeur \u00e9tait gonfl\u00e9 de rage et de d\u00e9dain,\nqu'il f\u00fbt tra\u00een\u00e9 par trois gardiens de Newgate et jet\u00e9 \u00e0 bord comme un\nfor\u00e7at, quand il n'avait pas tant qu'\u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9 en jugement. Il en fit\nfaire de grandes plaintes par ses amis, car il semble qu'il e\u00fbt quelque\nint\u00e9r\u00eat, mais ils rencontr\u00e8rent quelque obstacle dans leurs efforts, il\nleur fut r\u00e9pondu qu'on lui avait t\u00e9moign\u00e9 assez de faveur et qu'on avait\nre\u00e7u de tels rapports sur lui depuis qu'on lui avait accord\u00e9 sa\nd\u00e9portation, qu'il devait se juger fort bien trait\u00e9 de ce qu'on ne\nrepr\u00eet pas les poursuites. Cette r\u00e9ponse le calma, car il savait trop\nbien ce qui aurait pu advenir et ce qu'il avait lieu d'attendre, et \u00e0\ncette heure il voyait la bont\u00e9 de l'avis auquel il avait c\u00e9d\u00e9 d'accepter\nl'offre de la d\u00e9portation, et apr\u00e8s que son irritation contre ces\nlimiers d'enfer, comme il les appelait, fut un peu pass\u00e9e, il prit l'air\nrass\u00e9r\u00e9n\u00e9, commen\u00e7a d'\u00eatre joyeux, et comme je lui disais combien\nj'\u00e9tais heureuse de l'avoir tir\u00e9 une fois encore de leurs mains, il me\nprit dans ses bras et reconnut avec une grande tendresse que je lui\navais donn\u00e9 le meilleur conseil qui f\u00fbt possible.\n--Ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, tu m'as sauv\u00e9 la vie deux fois: elle t'appartient\nd\u00e9sormais et je suivrai toujours tes conseils.\nNotre premier soin fut de comparer nos fonds; il eut beaucoup\nd'honn\u00eatet\u00e9 et me dit que son fonds avait \u00e9t\u00e9 assez fourni quand il\n\u00e9tait entr\u00e9 en prison, mais que de vivre l\u00e0 comme il l'avait fait, en\nfa\u00e7on de gentilhomme, et, ce qui \u00e9tait bien plus, d'avoir fait des amis,\net d'avoir soutenu son proc\u00e8s, lui avait co\u00fbt\u00e9 beaucoup d'argent, et en\nun mot il ne lui restait en tout que 108\u00a3 qu'il avait sur lui en or.\nJe lui rendis aussi fid\u00e8lement compte de mon fonds c'est-\u00e0-dire de ce\nque j'avais emport\u00e9 avec moi, car j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solue, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt\nadvenir, \u00e0 garder ce que j'avais laiss\u00e9 en r\u00e9serve: au cas o\u00f9 je\nmourrais, ce que j'avais serait suffisant pour lui et ce que j'avais\nlaiss\u00e9 aux mains de ma gouvernante lui appartiendrait \u00e0 elle, chose\nqu'elle avait bien m\u00e9rit\u00e9e par ses services.\nLe fonds que j'avais sur moi \u00e9tait de 246\u00a3 et quelques shillings, de\nsorte que nous avions entre nous 354\u00a3, mais jamais fortune plus mal\nacquise n'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 r\u00e9unie pour commencer la vie.\nNotre plus grande infortune \u00e9tait que ce fonds en argent ne repr\u00e9sentait\naucun profit \u00e0 l'emporter aux plantations; je crois que le sien \u00e9tait\nr\u00e9ellement tout ce qui lui restait au monde, comme il me l'avait dit;\nmais moi qui avais entre 700 et 800\u00a3 en banque quand ce d\u00e9sastre me\nfrappa et qui avais une des amies les plus fid\u00e8les au monde pour s'en\noccuper, regardant que c'\u00e9tait une femme qui n'avait point de principes,\nj'avais encore 300\u00a3 que je lui avais laiss\u00e9es entre les mains et mises\nen r\u00e9serve ainsi que j'ai dit; d'ailleurs, j'avais emport\u00e9 plusieurs\nchoses de grande valeur, en particulier deux montres d'or, quelques\npetites pi\u00e8ces de vaisselle plate et plusieurs bagues: le tout vol\u00e9.\nAvec cette fortune et dans la soixante et uni\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon \u00e2ge je me\nlan\u00e7ai dans un nouveau monde, comme je puis dire, dans la condition\nd'une pauvre d\u00e9port\u00e9e qu'on avait envoy\u00e9e au del\u00e0 des mers pour lui\nfaire gr\u00e2ce de la potence; mes habits \u00e9taient pauvres et m\u00e9diocres, mais\npoint d\u00e9guenill\u00e9s ni sales, et personne ne savait, dans tout le\nvaisseau, que j'eusse rien de valeur sur moi.\nCependant comme j'avais une grande quantit\u00e9 de tr\u00e8s bons habits et du\nlinge en abondance que j'avais fait emballer dans deux grandes caisses,\nje les fis embarquer \u00e0 bord, non comme mes bagages, mais les ayant fait\nconsigner \u00e0 mon vrai nom en Virginie; et j'avais dans ma poche les\nbillets d\u00e9chargement, et dans ces caisses \u00e9taient mon argenterie et mes\nmontres et tout ce qui avait de la valeur, except\u00e9 mon argent, que je\nconservais \u00e0 part dans un tiroir secret de mon coffre et qu'on ne\npouvait d\u00e9couvrir ou bien ouvrir, si on le d\u00e9couvrait, sans mettre le\ncoffre en pi\u00e8ces.\nLe vaisseau commen\u00e7a maintenant de se remplir: plusieurs passagers\nvinrent \u00e0 bord qui n'avaient point \u00e9t\u00e9 embarqu\u00e9s \u00e0 compte criminel, et\non leur d\u00e9signa de quoi s'accommoder dans la grande cabine et autres\nparties du vaisseau, tandis que nous, for\u00e7ats, on nous fourra en bas je\nne sais o\u00f9. Mais quand mon mari vint \u00e0 bord, je parlai au bosseman qui\nm'avait de si bonne heure donn\u00e9 des marques d'amiti\u00e9; je lui dis qu'il\nm'avait aid\u00e9 en bien des choses et que je ne lui avais fait aucun retour\nqui conv\u00eent et l\u00e0-dessus je lui mis une guin\u00e9e dans la main; je lui dis\nque mon mari \u00e9tait maintenant venu \u00e0 bord et que, bien que nous fussions\ndans notre infortune pr\u00e9sente, cependant nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 des personnes\nd'un autre caract\u00e8re que la bande mis\u00e9rable avec laquelle nous \u00e9tions\nvenus, et que nous d\u00e9sirions savoir si on ne pourrait obtenir du\ncapitaine de nous admettre \u00e0 quelque commodit\u00e9 dans le vaisseau, chose\npour laquelle nous lui ferions la satisfaction qu'il lui plairait et que\nnous le payerions de sa peine pour nous avoir procur\u00e9 cette faveur. Il\nprit la guin\u00e9e, ainsi que je pus voir, avec grande satisfaction, et\nm'assura de son assistance.\nPuis il nous dit qu'il ne faisait point doute que le capitaine, qui\n\u00e9tait un des hommes de la meilleure humeur qui f\u00fbt au monde, ne\nconsentirait volontiers \u00e0 nous donner les aises que nous pourrions\nd\u00e9sirer, et pour nous rassurer l\u00e0-dessus, il me dit qu'\u00e0 la prochaine\nmar\u00e9e il irait le trouver \u00e0 seule fin de lui en parler. Le lendemain\nmatin, m'\u00e9tant trouv\u00e9e dormir plus longtemps que d'ordinaire, quand je\nme levai et que je montai sur le tillac, je vis le bosseman, parmi les\nhommes, \u00e0 ses affaires ordinaires; je fus un peu m\u00e9lancolique de le voir\nl\u00e0, et allant pour lui parler, il me vit et vint \u00e0 moi, et, sans lui\ndonner le temps de me parler d'abord, je lui dis en souriant:\n--Je pense, monsieur, que vous nous ayez oubli\u00e9s, car je vois que vous\navez bien des affaires.\nIl me r\u00e9pondit aussit\u00f4t:\n--Venez avec moi, vous allez voir.\nEt il m'emmena dans la grande cabine o\u00f9 je trouvai assis un homme de\nbonne apparence qui \u00e9crivait et qui avait beaucoup de papiers devant\nlui.\n--Voici, dit le bosseman \u00e0 celui qui \u00e9crivait, la dame dont vous a parl\u00e9\nle capitaine.\nEt, se tournant vers moi, il ajouta:\n--J'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 si loin d'oublier votre affaire, que je suis all\u00e9 \u00e0 la maison\ndu capitaine et que je lui ai repr\u00e9sent\u00e9 fid\u00e8lement votre d\u00e9sir d'\u00eatre\nfournie de commodit\u00e9s pour vous-m\u00eame, et votre mari, et le capitaine a\nenvoy\u00e9 monsieur, qui est ma\u00eetre du vaisseau, \u00e0 dessein de tout vous\nmontrer et de vous donner toutes les aises que vous d\u00e9sirez et m'a pri\u00e9\nde vous assurer que vous ne seriez pas trait\u00e9s ainsi que vous\nl'attendez, mais avec le m\u00eame respect que les autres passagers.\nL\u00e0-dessus le ma\u00eetre me parla, et ne me donnant point le temps de\nremercier le bosseman de sa bont\u00e9, confirma ce qu'il m'avait dit, et\najouta que c'\u00e9tait la joie du capitaine de se montrer tendre et\ncharitable surtout \u00e0 ceux qui se trouvaient dans quelque infortune, et\nl\u00e0-dessus il me montra plusieurs cabines m\u00e9nag\u00e9es les unes dans la\ngrande cabine, les autres s\u00e9par\u00e9es par des cloisons de l'habitacle du\ntimonier, mais s'ouvrant dans la grande cabine, \u00e0 dessein pour les\npassagers, et me donna libert\u00e9 de choisir celle que je voudrais. Je pris\nune de ces derni\u00e8res o\u00f9 il y avait d'excellentes commodit\u00e9s pour placer\nnotre coffre et nos caisses et une table pour manger.\nPuis le ma\u00eetre me dit que le bosseman avait donn\u00e9 un rapport si\nexcellent sur moi et mon mari qu'il avait ordre de nous dire que nous\npourrions manger avec lui s'il nous plaisait pendant tout le voyage, aux\nconditions ordinaires qu'on fait aux passagers, que nous pourrions faire\nvenir des provisions fra\u00eeches si nous voulions, ou que, sinon, nous\nvivrions sur la provision ordinaire et que nous partagerions avec lui.\nCe fut l\u00e0 une nouvelle bien revivifiante pour moi apr\u00e8s tant de dures\n\u00e9preuves et d'afflictions; je le remerciai et lui dis que le capitaine\nnous ferait les conditions qu'il voudrait et lui demandai l'autorisation\nd'aller pr\u00e9venir mon mari qui ne se trouvait pas fort bien et n'\u00e9tait\npoint encore sorti de sa cabine. Je m'y rendis en effet, et mon mari\ndont les esprits \u00e9taient encore si affaiss\u00e9s sous l'infamie, ainsi qu'il\ndisait, qu'on lui faisait subir, que je le reconnaissais \u00e0 peine, fut\ntellement ranim\u00e9 par le r\u00e9cit que je lui fis de l'accueil que nous\ntrouverions sur le vaisseau, que ce fut tout un autre homme et qu'une\nnouvelle vigueur et un nouveau courage parurent sur son visage m\u00eame:\ntant il est vrai que les plus grands esprits quand ils sont renvers\u00e9s\npar leurs afflictions sont sujets aux plus grandes d\u00e9pressions.\nApr\u00e8s quelque pause pour se remettre, mon mari monta avec moi, remercia\nle ma\u00eetre de la bont\u00e9 qu'il nous t\u00e9moignait et le pria d'offrir\nl'expression de sa reconnaissance au capitaine, lui proposant de payer\nd'avance le prix qu'il nous demanderait pour notre passage et pour les\ncommodit\u00e9s qu'il nous donnait. Le ma\u00eetre lui dit que le capitaine\nviendrait \u00e0 bord l'apr\u00e8s-midi et qu'il pourrait s'arranger avec lui. En\neffet, l'apr\u00e8s-midi le capitaine arriva, et nous trouv\u00e2mes que c'\u00e9tait\nbien l'homme obligeant que nous avait repr\u00e9sent\u00e9 le bosseman et il fut\nsi charm\u00e9 de la conversation de mon mari qu'en somme il ne voulut point\nnous laisser garder la cabine que nous avions choisie, mais nous en\ndonna une qui, ainsi que je l'ai dit avant, ouvrait dans la grande\ncabine, et ses conditions ne furent point exorbitantes: ce n'\u00e9tait point\nun homme avide de faire de nous sa proie, mais pour quinze guin\u00e9es nous\ne\u00fbmes tout, notre passage et nos provisions, repas \u00e0 table du capitaine\net fort bravement entretenus.\nPendant tout ce temps, je ne m'\u00e9tais fournie de rien de ce qui nous\n\u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire quand nous arriverions l\u00e0-bas et que nous commencerions\n\u00e0 nous appeler planteurs, et j'\u00e9tais loin d'\u00eatre ignorante de ce qu'il\nfallait \u00e0 telle occasion, en particulier toutes sortes d'outils pour\nl'ouvrage des plantations et pour construire et toutes sortes de meubles\nqui, si on les ach\u00e8te dans le pays, doivent n\u00e9cessairement co\u00fbter le\ndouble.\nJe parlai \u00e0 ce sujet avec ma gouvernante, et elle alla trouver le\ncapitaine, \u00e0 qui elle dit qu'elle esp\u00e9rait qu'on pourrait trouver moyen\nd'obtenir la libert\u00e9 de ses deux malheureux cousins, comme elle nous\nappelait, quand nous serions arriv\u00e9s par del\u00e0 la mer; puis s'enquit de\nlui quelles choses il \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire d'emporter avec nous, et lui, en\nhomme d'exp\u00e9rience, lui r\u00e9pondit:\n--Madame, il faut d'abord que vos cousins se procurent une personne pour\nles acheter comme esclaves suivant les conditions de leur d\u00e9portation,\net puis, au nom de cette personne, ils pourront s'occuper de ce qu'il\nleur plaira, soit acheter des plantations d\u00e9j\u00e0 exploit\u00e9es, soit acheter\ndes terres en friche au gouvernement.\nElle lui demanda alors s'il ne serait pas n\u00e9cessaire de nous fournir\nd'outils et de mat\u00e9riaux pour \u00e9tablir notre plantation, et il r\u00e9pondit\nque oui, certes; puis, elle lui demanda son assistance en cela et lui\ndit qu'elle nous fournirait de tout ce qu'il nous faudrait, quoi qu'il\nlui en co\u00fbt\u00e2t; sur quoi il lui donna une liste des choses n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0\nun planteur, qui, d'apr\u00e8s son compte, montait \u00e0 80 ou 100\u00a3. Et, en\nsomme, elle s'y prit aussi adroitement pour les acheter que si elle e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 un vieux marchand de Virginie, sinon que sur mon indication elle\nacheta plus du double de tout ce dont il lui avait donn\u00e9 la liste.\nElle embarqua toutes ces choses \u00e0 son nom, prit les billets de\nchargement et endossa ces billets au nom de mon mari, assurant ensuite\nla cargaison \u00e0 son propre nom, si bien que nous \u00e9tions par\u00e9s pour tous\nles \u00e9v\u00e9nements et pour tous les d\u00e9sastres.\nJ'aurais d\u00fb vous dire que mon mari lui donna tout son fonds de 108\u00a3\nqu'il portait sur lui, ainsi que j'ai dit, en monnaie d'or, pour le\nd\u00e9penser \u00e0 cet effet, et je lui donnai une bonne somme en outre, si bien\nque je n'entamai pas la somme que je lui avais laiss\u00e9e entre les mains,\nen fin de quoi nous e\u00fbmes pr\u00e8s de 200\u00a3 en argent, ce qui \u00e9tait plus que\nsuffisant \u00e0 notre dessein.\nEn cette condition, fort joyeux de toutes ces commodit\u00e9s, nous f\u00eemes\nvoile de Bugby's note \u00e0 Gravesend, o\u00f9 le vaisseau resta environ dix\njours de plus et o\u00f9 le capitaine vint \u00e0 bord pour de bon. Ici le\ncapitaine nous montra une civilit\u00e9 qu'en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 nous n'avions point de\nraison d'attendre, c'est \u00e0 savoir qu'il nous permit d'aller \u00e0 terre pour\nnous rafra\u00eechir, apr\u00e8s que nous lui e\u00fbmes donn\u00e9 nos paroles que nous ne\nnous enfuirions pas et que nous reviendrions paisiblement \u00e0 bord. En\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 le capitaine avait assez d'assurances sur nos r\u00e9solutions de\npartir, puisque, ayant fait de telles provisions pour nous \u00e9tablir\nl\u00e0-bas, il ne semblait point probable que nous eussions choisi de\ndemeurer ici au p\u00e9ril de la vie: car ce n'aurait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 moins. En\nsomme, nous all\u00e2mes tous \u00e0 terre avec le capitaine et soup\u00e2mes ensemble\n\u00e0 Gravesend o\u00f9 nous f\u00fbmes fort joyeux, pass\u00e2mes la nuit, couch\u00e2mes dans\nla maison o\u00f9 nous avions soup\u00e9 et rev\u00eenmes tous tr\u00e8s honn\u00eatement \u00e0 bord\navec lui le matin. L\u00e0, nous achet\u00e2mes dix douzaines de bouteilles de\nbonne bi\u00e8re, du vin, des poulets, et telles choses que nous pensions qui\nseraient agr\u00e9ables \u00e0 bord.\nMa gouvernante resta avec nous tout ce temps et nous accompagna\njusqu'aux Downs, ainsi que la femme du capitaine avec qui elle revint.\nJe n'eus jamais tant de tristesse en me s\u00e9parant de ma propre m\u00e8re que\nj'en eus pour me s\u00e9parer d'elle, et je ne la revis jamais plus. Nous\ne\u00fbmes bon vent d'est le troisi\u00e8me jour apr\u00e8s notre arriv\u00e9e aux Downs, et\nnous f\u00eemes voile de l\u00e0 le dixi\u00e8me jour d'avril, sans toucher ailleurs,\njusqu'\u00e9tant pouss\u00e9 sur la c\u00f4te d'Irlande par une bourrasque bien forte,\nle vaisseau jeta l'ancre dans une petite baie pr\u00e8s d'une rivi\u00e8re dont je\nne me rappelle pas le nom, mais on me dit que c'\u00e9tait une rivi\u00e8re qui\nvenait de Limerick et que c'\u00e9tait la plus grande rivi\u00e8re d'Irlande.\nL\u00e0, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 retenus par le mauvais temps, le capitaine qui continuait\nde montrer la m\u00eame humeur charmante, nous emmena de nouveau tous deux \u00e0\nterre. Ce fut par bont\u00e9 pour mon mari, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 qui supportait fort mal\nla mer, surtout quand le vent soufflait avec tant de fureur. L\u00e0, nous\nachet\u00e2mes encore des provisions fra\u00eeches, du boeuf, du porc, du mouton\net de la volaille, et le capitaine resta pour mettre en saumure cinq ou\nsix barils de boeuf, afin de renforcer les vivres. Nous ne f\u00fbmes pas l\u00e0\nplus de cinq jours que la temp\u00e9rature s'adoucissant apr\u00e8s une bonne\nsaute de vent, nous f\u00eemes voile de nouveau et, au bout de quarante-deux\njours, arriv\u00e2mes sans encombre \u00e0 la c\u00f4te de Virginie.\nQuand nous approch\u00e2mes de terre, le capitaine me fit venir et me dit\nqu'il trouvait par mon discours que j'avais quelques connaissances dans\nla contr\u00e9e et que j'y \u00e9tais venue autrefois, de sorte qu'il supposait\nque je connaissais la coutume suivant laquelle on disposait des for\u00e7ats\n\u00e0 leur arriv\u00e9e. Je lui dis qu'il n'en \u00e9tait rien et que pour les\nconnaissances que j'avais l\u00e0, il pouvait \u00eatre certain que je ne me\nferais point conna\u00eetre \u00e0 aucune d'elles tandis que j'\u00e9tais dans les\nconditions d'une prisonni\u00e8re, et que, pour le reste, nous nous\nabandonnions enti\u00e8rement \u00e0 lui pour nous assister ainsi qu'il lui avait\nplu de nous le promettre. Il me dit qu'il fallait qu'une personne du\npays v\u00eent m'acheter comme esclave, afin de r\u00e9pondre de moi au gouverneur\nde la contr\u00e9e s'il me r\u00e9clamait. Je lui dis que nous agirions selon ses\ndirections, de sorte qu'il amena un planteur pour traiter avec lui comme\ns'il se f\u00fbt agi de m'acheter comme esclave, n'y ayant point l'ordre de\nvendre mon mari, et l\u00e0 je lui fus vendue en formalit\u00e9 et je le suivis \u00e0\nterre. Le capitaine alla avec nous et nous mena \u00e0 une certaine maison,\nque ce f\u00fbt une taverne ou non, je n'en sais rien, mais on nous y donna\nun bol de punch fait avec du rhum, etc., et nous f\u00eemes bonne ch\u00e8re. Au\nbout d'un moment, le planteur nous donna un certificat de d\u00e9charge et\nune reconnaissance attestant que je l'avais servi fid\u00e8lement, et je fus\nlibre d\u00e8s le lendemain matin d'aller o\u00f9 il me plairait.\nPour ce service le capitaine me demanda six mille avoir du poids de\ntabac dont il dit qu'il devait compte \u00e0 son armateur et que nous lui\nachet\u00e2mes imm\u00e9diatement et lui f\u00eemes pr\u00e9sent, par-dessus le march\u00e9, de\n20 guin\u00e9es dont il se d\u00e9clara abondamment satisfait.\nIl ne convient point que j'entre ici dans les d\u00e9tails de la partie de la\ncolonie de Virginie o\u00f9 nous nous \u00e9tabl\u00eemes, pour diverses raisons; il\nsuffira de mentionner que nous entr\u00e2mes dans la grande rivi\u00e8re de\nPotomac, qui \u00e9tait la destination du vaisseau, et l\u00e0 nous avions\nl'intention de nous \u00e9tablir d'abord malgr\u00e9 qu'ensuite nous change\u00e2mes\nd'avis.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose d'importance que je fis apr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes d\u00e9barqu\u00e9\ntoutes nos marchandises et que nous les e\u00fbmes serr\u00e9es dans un magasin\nque nous lou\u00e2mes avec un logement dans le petit endroit du village o\u00f9\nnous avions atterri; la premi\u00e8re chose que je fis, dis-je, fut de\nm'enqu\u00e9rir de ma m\u00e8re et de mon fr\u00e8re (cette personne fatale avec\nlaquelle je m'\u00e9tais mari\u00e9e, ainsi que je l'ai longuement racont\u00e9). Une\npetite enqu\u00eate m'apprit que Mme ***, c'est \u00e0 savoir ma m\u00e8re \u00e9tait morte,\nque mon fr\u00e8re ou mari \u00e9tait vivant et, ce qui \u00e9tait pire, je trouvai\nqu'il avait quitt\u00e9 la plantation o\u00f9 j'avais v\u00e9cu et qu'il vivait avec un\nde ses fils sur une plantation, justement pr\u00e8s de l'endroit o\u00f9 nous\navions lou\u00e9 un magasin.\nJe fus un peu surprise d'abord, mais comme je m'aventurais \u00e0 me\npersuader qu'il ne pouvait point me reconna\u00eetre, non seulement je me\nsentis parfaitement tranquille, mais j'eus grande envie de le voir, si\nc'\u00e9tait possible, sans qu'il me v\u00eet. Dans ce dessein je m'enquis de la\nplantation o\u00f9 il vivait et avec une femme du lieu que je trouvai pour\nm'aider, comme ce que nous appelons une porteuse de chaise, j'errai\nautour de l'endroit comme si je n'eusse eu d'autre envie que de me\npromener et de regarder le paysage. Enfin j'arrivai si pr\u00e8s que je vis\nla maison. Je demandai \u00e0 la femme \u00e0 qui \u00e9tait cette plantation: elle me\ndit qu'elle appartenait \u00e0 un tel, et, tendant la main sur la droite:\n--Voil\u00e0, dit-elle, le monsieur \u00e0 qui appartient cette plantation et son\np\u00e8re est avec lui.\n--Quels sont leurs petits noms? dis-je.\n--Je ne sais point, dit-elle, quel est le nom du vieux monsieur, mais le\nnom de son fils est Humphry, et je crois, dit-elle, que c'est aussi le\nnom du p\u00e8re.\nVous pourrez deviner, s'il vous est possible, le m\u00e9lange confus de joie\net de frayeur qui s'empara de mes esprits en cette occasion, car je\nconnus sur-le-champ que ce n'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 personne d'autre que mon propre\nfils par ce p\u00e8re qu'elle me montrait qui \u00e9tait mon propre fr\u00e8re. Je\nn'avais point de masque, mais je chiffonnai les ruches de ma coiffe\nautour de ma figure si bien que je fus persuad\u00e9e qu'apr\u00e8s plus de vingt\nans d'absence et, d'ailleurs, ne m'attendant nullement en cette partie\ndu monde, il serait incapable de me reconna\u00eetre. Mais je n'aurais point\neu besoin \u00e0 user de toutes ces pr\u00e9cautions car sa vue \u00e9tait devenue\nfaible par quelque maladie qui lui \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9e sur les yeux et il ne\npouvait voir que juste assez pour se promener, et ne pas se heurter\ncontre un arbre ou mettre le pied dans un foss\u00e9. Comme ils\ns'approchaient de nous, je dis:\n--Est-ce qu'il vous conna\u00eet, madame Owen? (C'\u00e9tait le nom de la femme.)\n--Oui, dit-elle. S'il m'entend parler, il me reconna\u00eetra bien, mais il\nn'y voit point assez pour me reconna\u00eetre ou personne d'autre.\nEt alors elle me parla de l'affaiblissement de sa vue, ainsi que j'ai\ndit. Ceci me rassura si bien que je rejetai ma coiffe et que je les\nlaissai passer pr\u00e8s de moi. C'\u00e9tait une mis\u00e9rable chose pour une m\u00e8re\nque de voir ainsi son propre fils, un beau jeune homme bien fait dans\ndes circonstances florissantes, et de ne point oser se faire conna\u00eetre \u00e0\nlui et de ne point oser para\u00eetre le remarquer. Que toute m\u00e8re d'enfant\nqui lit ces pages consid\u00e8re ces choses et qu'elle r\u00e9fl\u00e9chisse \u00e0\nl'angoisse d'esprit avec laquelle je me restreignis, au bondissement\nd'\u00e2me que je ressentis en moi pour l'embrasser et pleurer sur lui et\ncomment je pensai que toutes mes entrailles se retournaient en moi, que\nmes boyaux m\u00eames \u00e9taient remu\u00e9s et que je ne savais quoi faire, ainsi\nque je ne sais point maintenant comment exprimer ces agonies. Quand il\ns'\u00e9loigna de moi, je restai les yeux fixes et, tremblante, je le suivis\ndes yeux aussi longtemps que je pus le voir. Puis, m'asseyant sur\nl'herbe juste \u00e0 un endroit que j'avais marqu\u00e9, je feignis de m'y \u00e9tendre\npour me reposer, mais je me d\u00e9tournai de la femme et, couch\u00e9e sur le\nvisage, je sanglotai et je baisai la terre sur laquelle il avait pos\u00e9 le\npied.\nJe ne pus cacher mon d\u00e9sordre assez pour que cette femme ne s'en\naper\u00e7ut, d'o\u00f9 elle pensa que je n'\u00e9tais point bien, ce que je fus\noblig\u00e9e de pr\u00e9tendre qui \u00e9tait vrai; sur quoi elle me pressa de me\nlever, la terre \u00e9tant humide et dangereuse, ce que je fis et m'en allai.\nComme je retournais, parlant encore de ce monsieur et de son fils, une\nnouvelle occasion de m\u00e9lancolie se pr\u00e9senta en cette mani\u00e8re: la femme\ncommen\u00e7a comme si elle e\u00fbt voulu me conter une histoire pour me\ndivertir.\n--Il court, dit-elle, un conte bien singulier parmi les voisins l\u00e0 o\u00f9\ndemeurait autrefois ce gentilhomme.\n--Et qu'est-ce donc? dis-je.\n--Mais, dit-elle, ce vieux monsieur, \u00e9tant all\u00e9 en Angleterre quand il\n\u00e9tait tout jeune, tomba amoureux d'une jeune dame de l\u00e0-bas, une des\nplus belles femmes qu'on ait jamais vue ici et l'\u00e9pousa et la mena\ndemeurer chez sa m\u00e8re, qui alors \u00e9tait vivante. Il v\u00e9cut ici plusieurs\nann\u00e9es avec elle, continua la femme, et il eut d'elle plusieurs enfants,\ndont l'un est le jeune homme qui \u00e9tait avec lui tout \u00e0 l'heure; mais au\nbout de quelque temps, un jour que la vieille dame, sa m\u00e8re, parlait \u00e0\nsa bru de choses qui la touchaient et des circonstances o\u00f9 elle s'\u00e9tait\ntrouv\u00e9e en Angleterre, qui \u00e9taient assez mauvaises, la bru commen\u00e7a\nd'\u00eatre fort surprise et inqui\u00e8te, et en somme, quand on examina les\nchoses plus \u00e0 fond, il parut hors de doute qu'elle, la vieille dame,\n\u00e9tait la propre m\u00e8re de sa bru et que, par cons\u00e9quent, ce fils \u00e9tait le\npropre fr\u00e8re de sa femme, ce qui frappa la famille d'horreur et la jeta\ndans une telle confusion qu'ils pens\u00e8rent en \u00eatre ruin\u00e9s tous; la jeune\nfemme ne voulut pas vivre avec lui, et lui-m\u00eame, pendant un temps, fut\nhors du sens, puis enfin la jeune femme partit pour l'Angleterre et on\nn'en a jamais entendu parler depuis.\nIl est ais\u00e9 de croire que je fus \u00e9trangement affect\u00e9e de cette histoire,\nmais il est impossible de d\u00e9crire la nature de mon trouble; je parus\n\u00e9tonn\u00e9e du r\u00e9cit et lui fis mille questions sur les d\u00e9tails que je\ntrouvai qu'elle connaissait parfaitement. Enfin je commen\u00e7ai de\nm'enqu\u00e9rir des conditions de la famille, comment la vieille dame, je\nveux dire ma m\u00e8re, \u00e9tait morte, et \u00e0 qui elle avait laiss\u00e9 ce qu'elle\nposs\u00e9dait, car ma m\u00e8re m'avait promis tr\u00e8s solennellement que, quand\nelle mourrait, elle ferait quelque chose pour moi et qu'elle\ns'arrangerait pour que, si j'\u00e9tais vivante, je pusse, de fa\u00e7on ou\nd'autre, entrer en possession, sans qu'il f\u00fbt au pouvoir de son fils,\nmon fr\u00e8re et mari, de m'en emp\u00eacher. Elle me dit qu'elle ne savait pas\nexactement comment les choses avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 r\u00e9gl\u00e9es, mais qu'on lui avait\ndit que ma m\u00e8re avait laiss\u00e9 une somme d'argent sur le payement de\nlaquelle elle avait hypoth\u00e9qu\u00e9 sa plantation, afin que cette somme fut\nremise \u00e0 sa fille si jamais on pouvait en entendre parler soit en\nAngleterre, soit ailleurs, et que la g\u00e9rance du d\u00e9p\u00f4t avait \u00e9t\u00e9 laiss\u00e9e\n\u00e0 ce fils que nous avions vu avec son p\u00e8re.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une nouvelle qui me parut trop bonne pour en faire fi, et\nvous pouvez bien penser que j'eus le coeur empli de mille r\u00e9flexions sur\nle parti que je devais prendre et la fa\u00e7on dont je devais me faire\nconna\u00eetre, ou si je devrais jamais me faire conna\u00eetre ou non.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 un embarras o\u00f9 je n'avais pas, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, la science de me\nconduire, ni ne savais-je quel parti prendre; mon esprit \u00e9tait obs\u00e9d\u00e9\nnuit et jour; je ne pouvais ni dormir ni causer; tant que mon mari s'en\naper\u00e7ut, s'\u00e9tonna de ce que j'avais et s'effor\u00e7a de me divertir, mais ce\nfut tout en vain; il me pressa de lui dire ce qui me tourmentait, mais\nje le remis, jusqu'enfin, m'importunant continuellement, je fus forc\u00e9e\nde forger une histoire qui avait cependant un fondement r\u00e9el, je lui dis\nque j'\u00e9tais tourment\u00e9e parce que j'avais trouv\u00e9 que nous devions quitter\nnotre installation et changer notre plan d'\u00e9tablissement, \u00e0 cause que\nj'avais trouv\u00e9 que je serais d\u00e9couverte si je restais dans cette partie\nde la contr\u00e9e; car, ma m\u00e8re \u00e9tant morte, plusieurs de nos parents\n\u00e9taient venus dans la r\u00e9gion o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions et qu'il fallait, ou bien me\nd\u00e9couvrir \u00e0 eux, ce qui dans notre condition pr\u00e9sente, ne convenait\npoint sous bien des rapports, ou bien nous en aller, et que je ne savais\ncomment faire et que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 ce qui me donnait de la m\u00e9lancolie.\nIl acquies\u00e7a en ceci qu'il ne convenait nullement que je me fisse\nconna\u00eetre \u00e0 personne dans les circonstances o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions alors, et par\nainsi il me dit qu'il \u00e9tait pr\u00eat \u00e0 partir pour toute autre r\u00e9gion de ce\npays ou m\u00eame pour un autre pays si je le d\u00e9sirais. Mais maintenant j'eus\nune autre difficult\u00e9, qui \u00e9tait que si je partais pour une autre\ncolonie, je me mettais hors d'\u00e9tat de jamais pouvoir rechercher avec\nsucc\u00e8s les effets que ma m\u00e8re m'avait laiss\u00e9s; d'autre part, je ne\npouvais m\u00eame penser \u00e0 faire conna\u00eetre le secret de mon ancien mariage \u00e0\nmon nouveau mari; ce n'\u00e9tait pas une histoire qu'on support\u00e2t qu'on la\ndise, ni ne pouvais-je pr\u00e9voir quelles pourraient en \u00eatre les\ncons\u00e9quences, c'\u00e9tait d'ailleurs impossible sans rendre la chose\npublique par toute la contr\u00e9e, sans qu'on s\u00fbt tout ensemble qui j'\u00e9tais\net ce que j'\u00e9tais maintenant.\nCet embarras continua longtemps et inqui\u00e9ta beaucoup mon \u00e9poux, car il\npensait que je ne fusse pas franche avec lui et que je ne voulusse pas\nlui r\u00e9v\u00e9ler toutes les parties de ma peine, et il disait souvent qu'il\ns'\u00e9tonnait de ce qu'il avait fait pour que je n'eusse pas confiance en\nlui en quoi que ce f\u00fbt, surtout si la chose \u00e9tait douloureuse et\naffligeante. La v\u00e9rit\u00e9 est que j'eusse d\u00fb lui confier tout, car aucun\nhomme ne pouvait m\u00e9riter mieux d'une femme, mais c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une chose\nque je ne savais comment lui ouvrir, et pourtant, n'ayant personne, \u00e0\nqui en r\u00e9v\u00e9ler la moindre part, le fardeau \u00e9tait trop lourd pour mon\nesprit.\nLe seul soulagement que je trouvai fut d'en laisser savoir \u00e0 mon mari\nassez pour le convaincre de la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 qu'il y avait pour nous \u00e0\nsonger \u00e0 nous \u00e9tablir dans quelque autre partie du monde et la prochaine\nconsid\u00e9ration qui se pr\u00e9senta fut vers quelle r\u00e9gion des colonies\nanglaises nous nous dirigerions. Mon mari \u00e9tait parfaitement \u00e9tranger au\npays et n'avait point tant qu'une connaissance g\u00e9ographique de la\nsituation des diff\u00e9rents lieux, et moi qui, jusqu'au jour o\u00f9 j'ai \u00e9crit\nces lignes, ne savais point ce que signifiait le mot _g\u00e9ographique_, je\nn'en avais qu'une connaissance g\u00e9n\u00e9rale par mes longues conversations\navec des gens qui allaient et venaient. Mais je savais bien que le\nMaryland, la Pennsylvanie, East et West-Jersey, la Nouvelle-York et la\nNouvelle-Angleterre \u00e9taient toutes situ\u00e9es au nord de la Virginie et\nqu'elles avaient toutes par cons\u00e9quent des climats plus froids pour\nlesquels, pour cette raison m\u00eame, j'avais de l'aversion; car, ainsi que\nj'avais toujours naturellement aim\u00e9 la chaleur: ainsi maintenant que je\ndevenais vieille, je sentais une plus forte inclination \u00e0 fuir un climat\nfroid. Je pensai donc \u00e0 aller en Caroline, qui est la colonie la plus\nm\u00e9ridionale des Anglais sur le continent; et l\u00e0, je proposai d'aller,\nd'autant plus que je pourrais ais\u00e9ment revenir \u00e0 n'importe quel moment\nquand il serait temps de m'enqu\u00e9rir des affaires de ma m\u00e8re et de\nr\u00e9clamer mon d\u00fb.\nMais maintenant je trouvai une nouvelle difficult\u00e9; la grande affaire\npesait encore lourdement sur mes esprits et je ne pouvais songer \u00e0\nsortir de la contr\u00e9e sans m'enqu\u00e9rir de fa\u00e7on ou d'autre du grand secret\nde ce que ma m\u00e8re avait fait pour moi, ni ne pouvais-je avec aucune\npatience supporter la pens\u00e9e de partir sans me faire conna\u00eetre \u00e0 mon\nvieux mari (fr\u00e8re) ou \u00e0 mon enfant, son fils; seulement j'aurais bien\nvoulu le faire sans que mon nouveau mari en e\u00fbt connaissance ou sans\nqu'ils eussent connaissance de lui.\nJ'agitai d'innombrables desseins dans mes pens\u00e9es pour arriver \u00e0 ces\nfins. J'aurai aim\u00e9 \u00e0 envoyer mon mari en Caroline pour le suivre ensuite\nmoi-m\u00eame, mais c'\u00e9tait impraticable, parce qu'il ne voulait pas bouger\nsans moi, ne connaissant nullement le pays ni la mani\u00e8re de s'\u00e9tablir en\nlieu que ce fut. Alors je pensai que nous partirions d'abord tous deux,\net que lorsque nous serions \u00e9tablie je retournerais en Virginie; mais,\nm\u00eame alors, je savais bien qu'il ne se s\u00e9parerait jamais de moi pour\nrester seul l\u00e0-bas; le cas \u00e9tait clair; il \u00e9tait n\u00e9 gentilhomme, et ce\nn'\u00e9tait pas seulement qu'il n'e\u00fbt point la connaissance du pays, mais il\n\u00e9tait indolent, et quand nous nous \u00e9tablissions, il pr\u00e9f\u00e9rait de\nbeaucoup aller dans la for\u00eat avec son fusil, ce qu'ils appellent l\u00e0-bas\nchasser et qui est l'ordinaire travail des Indiens; il pr\u00e9f\u00e9rait de\nbeaucoup chasser, dis-je, que de s'occuper des affaires naturelles de la\nplantation.\nC'\u00e9taient donc l\u00e0 des difficult\u00e9s insurmontables et telles que je ne\nsavais qu'y faire; je me sentais si fortement pouss\u00e9e \u00e0 me d\u00e9couvrir \u00e0\nmon ancien mari que je ne pouvais y r\u00e9sister, d'autant plus que l'id\u00e9e\nqui me courait dans la t\u00eate, c'\u00e9tait que si je ne le faisais point\ntandis qu'il vivait, ce serait en vain peut-\u00eatre que je m'efforcerais de\nconvaincre mon fils plus tard que j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9ellement la m\u00eame personne et\nque j'\u00e9tais sa m\u00e8re, et qu'ainsi je pourrais perdre tout ensemble\nl'assistance de la parent\u00e9 et tout ce que ma m\u00e8re m'avait laiss\u00e9. Et\npourtant, d'autre part, il me paraissait impossible de r\u00e9v\u00e9ler la\ncondition o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais et de dire que j'avais avec moi un mari ou que\nj'avais pass\u00e9 la mer comme criminelle; si bien qu'il m'\u00e9tait absolument\nn\u00e9cessaire de quitter l'endroit o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais et de revenir vers lui, comme\nrevenant d'un autre endroit et sous une autre figure.\nSur ces consid\u00e9rations, je continuai \u00e0 dire \u00e0 mon mari l'absolue\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 qu'il y avait de ne point nous \u00e9tablir dans la rivi\u00e8re de\nPotomac \u00e0 cause que nous y serions bient\u00f4t publiquement connus, tandis\nque si nous allions en aucun autre lieu du monde, nous y arriverions\navec autant de r\u00e9putation que famille quelconque qui viendrait y\nplanter. Qu'ainsi qu'il \u00e9tait toujours agr\u00e9able aux habitants de voir\narriver parmi eux des familles pour planter qui apportaient quelque\naisance, ainsi serions-nous s\u00fbrs d'une r\u00e9ception agr\u00e9able sans\npossibilit\u00e9 d'une d\u00e9couverte de notre condition.\nJe lui dis aussi qu'ainsi que j'avais plusieurs parents dans l'endroit\no\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions et que je n'osais point me faire conna\u00eetre \u00e0 cette heure,\nde crainte qu'ils vinssent \u00e0 savoir l'occasion de ma venue, ce qui\nserait m'exposer au dernier point; ainsi avais-je des raisons de croire\nque ma m\u00e8re, qui \u00e9tait morte ici, m'avait laiss\u00e9 quelque chose et\npeut-\u00eatre de consid\u00e9rable, dont il valait bien la peine de m'enqu\u00e9rir;\nmais que je ne pouvais point le faire sans nous exposer publiquement, \u00e0\nmoins de quitter la contr\u00e9e; qu'ensuite, quel que f\u00fbt le lieu o\u00f9 nous\nnous \u00e9tablirions je pourrais revenir sous pr\u00e9texte de rendre visite \u00e0\nmon fr\u00e8re et \u00e0 mes neveux, me faire conna\u00eetre, m'enqu\u00e9rir de mon d\u00fb,\n\u00eatre re\u00e7ue avec respect et en m\u00eame temps me rendre justice. Nous\nr\u00e9sol\u00fbmes donc aller chercher un \u00e9tablissement dans quelque autre\ncolonie, et ce fut d'abord sur la Caroline que tomba notre choix.\n\u00c0 cet effet, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes de nous enqu\u00e9rir sur les vaisseaux qui\nallaient en Caroline, et au bout de tr\u00e8s peu de temps on nous informa\nque de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la baie, comme ils l'appellent, c'est \u00e0 savoir,\ndans le Maryland, il y avait un vaisseau qui arrivait de la Caroline,\ncharg\u00e9 de riz et d'autres marchandises, et qui allait y retourner.\nL\u00e0-dessus, nous lou\u00e2mes une chaloupe pour y embarquer nos effets; puis,\ndisant en quelque sorte un adieu final \u00e0 la rivi\u00e8re de Potomac, nous\npass\u00e2mes avec tout notre bagage en Maryland.\nCe fut un long et d\u00e9plaisant voyage, et que mon \u00e9poux d\u00e9clara pire que\ntout son voyage depuis l'Angleterre, parce que le temps \u00e9tait mauvais,\nla mer rude et le vaisseau petit et incommode; de plus, nous nous\ntrouvions \u00e0 cent bons milles en amont de la rivi\u00e8re de Potomac, en une\nr\u00e9gion qu'on nomme comt\u00e9 de Westmoreland; et comme cette rivi\u00e8re est de\nbeaucoup la plus grande de Virginie, et j'ai ou\u00ef dire que c'est la plus\ngrande du monde qui d\u00e9bouche en une autre rivi\u00e8re, et point directement\ndans la mer, ainsi y trouv\u00e2mes-nous du fort mauvais temps, et nous f\u00fbmes\nfr\u00e9quemment en grand danger, car malgr\u00e9 qu'on l'appelle simplement\nrivi\u00e8re, elle est parfois si large que lorsque nous \u00e9tions au milieu,\nnous n'apercevions point la terre des deux cot\u00e9s pendant bien des\nlieues. Puis il nous fallut traverser la grande baie de Chesapeake, qui\na pr\u00e8s de trente milles de largeur \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 y d\u00e9bouche la rivi\u00e8re\nde Potomac; si bien que nous e\u00fbmes un voyage de deux cents milles dans\nune mis\u00e9rable chaloupe avec tout notre tr\u00e9sor; et si quelque accident\nnous f\u00fbt survenu, nous aurions pu \u00eatre tr\u00e8s malheureux, en fin de\ncompte; supposant que nous eussions perdu nos biens, avec la vie sauve\nseulement, nous aurions \u00e9t\u00e9 abandonn\u00e9s nus et d\u00e9sol\u00e9s dans un pays\nsauvage et \u00e9tranger, n'ayant point un ami, point une connaissance dans\ntoute cette partie du monde. La pens\u00e9e seule me donne de l'horreur, m\u00eame\naujourd'hui que le danger est pass\u00e9.\nEnfin, nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 destination au bout de cinq jours de voile,--je\ncrois que cet endroit se nomme Pointe-Philippe,--et voici que lorsque\nnous arriv\u00e2mes, le vaisseau pour la Caroline avait termin\u00e9 son\nchargement \u00e9tait parti trois jours avant. C'\u00e9tait une d\u00e9ception; mais\npourtant, moi qui ne devais me d\u00e9courager de rien, je dis \u00e0 mon mari,\nque, puisque nous ne pouvions passer en Caroline, et que la contr\u00e9e o\u00f9\nnous \u00e9tions \u00e9tait belle et fertile, il fallait voir si nous ne pourrions\npoint y trouver notre affaire, et que s'il le voulait, nous pourrions\nnous y \u00e9tablir.\nNous nous rend\u00eemes aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 terre, mais n'y trouv\u00e2mes pas de\ncommodit\u00e9s dans l'endroit m\u00eame, ni pour y demeurer, ni pour y mettre nos\nmarchandises \u00e0 l'abri; mais un tr\u00e8s honn\u00eate quaker, que nous trouv\u00e2mes\nl\u00e0, nous conseilla de nous rendre en un lieu situ\u00e9 \u00e0 environ soixante\nmilles \u00e0 l'est, c'est-\u00e0-dire plus pr\u00e8s de l'embouchure de la baie, o\u00f9 il\ndit qu'il vivait lui-m\u00eame, et o\u00f9 nous trouverions ce qu'il nous fallait,\nsoit pour planter, soit pour attendre qu'on nous indiqu\u00e2t quelque autre\nlieu de plantation plus convenable; et il nous invita avec tant de gr\u00e2ce\nque nous accept\u00e2mes, et le quaker lui-m\u00eame vint avec nous.\nL\u00e0 nous achet\u00e2mes deux serviteurs, c'est \u00e0 savoir une servante anglaise,\nqui venait de d\u00e9barquer d'un vaisseau de Liverpool, et un n\u00e8gre, choses\nd'absolue n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 pour toutes gens qui pr\u00e9tendent s'\u00e9tablir en ce\npays. L'honn\u00eate quaker nous aida infiniment, et quand nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0\nl'endroit qu'il nous avait propos\u00e9, nous trouva un magasin commode pour\nnos marchandises et du logement pour nous et nos domestiques; et environ\ndeux mois apr\u00e8s, sur son avis, nous demand\u00e2mes un grand terrain au\ngouvernement du pays, pour faire notre plantation; de sorte que nous\nlaiss\u00e2mes de c\u00f4t\u00e9 toute la pens\u00e9e d'aller en Caroline, ayant fort \u00e9t\u00e9\nbien re\u00e7us ici; et au bout d'un an nous avions d\u00e9frich\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de\ncinquante acres de terre, partie en cl\u00f4ture, et nous y avions d\u00e9j\u00e0\nplant\u00e9 du tabac, quoiqu'en petite quantit\u00e9; en outre, nous avions un\npotager et assez de bl\u00e9 pour fournir \u00e0 nos domestiques des racines, des\nl\u00e9gumes et du pain. Et maintenant je persuadai \u00e0 mon mari de me\npermettre de traverser de nouveau la baie pour m'enqu\u00e9rir de mes amis;\nil y consentit d'autant plus volontiers qu'il avait assez d'affaires sur\nles bras pour l'occuper, outre son fusil pour le divertir (ce qu'on\nappelle chasser par ici), en quoi il prenait beaucoup d'agr\u00e9ment; et en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 nous nous regardions souvent tous deux avec infiniment de\nplaisir, songeant combien notre vie \u00e9tait meilleure, non seulement que\ncelle de Newgate, mais que les circonstances les plus prosp\u00e8res de\nl'affreux m\u00e9tier que nous avions pratiqu\u00e9.\nNotre affaire \u00e9tait maintenant en tr\u00e8s bonne posture: nous achet\u00e2mes aux\npropri\u00e9taires de la colonie, pour 35\u00a3 pay\u00e9es comptant, autant de terre\nqu'il nous en fallait pour nous \u00e9tablir une plantation qui nous\nsuffirait tant que nous vivrions; et pour ce qui est des enfants,\nj'avais pass\u00e9 ce temps-l\u00e0.\nMais notre bonne fortune ne s'arr\u00eata pas l\u00e0; je traversai, ainsi que\nj'ai dit, la baie, pour me rendre \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 habitait mon fr\u00e8re,\nautrefois mon mari; mais je ne passai point dans le m\u00eame village o\u00f9\nj'avais pass\u00e9 avant; mais je remontai une autre grande rivi\u00e8re, sur la\nrive orientale de la rivi\u00e8re de Potomac, qu'on nomme rivi\u00e8re de\nRappahanoc, et par ce moyen j'arrivai sur l'arri\u00e8re de sa plantation,\nqui \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s vaste, et \u00e0 l'aide d'une crique navigable de la rivi\u00e8re\nde Rappahanoc, je pus venir tout pr\u00e8s.\nJ'\u00e9tais maintenant pleinement r\u00e9solue \u00e0 aller franchement et tout droit\n\u00e0 mon fr\u00e8re (mari) et \u00e0 lui dire qui j'\u00e9tais; mais ne sachant l'humeur\no\u00f9 je le trouverais, o\u00f9 plut\u00f4t s'il ne serait point hors d'humeur d'une\nvisite si inattendue, je r\u00e9solus de lui \u00e9crire d'abord une lettre afin\nde lui faire savoir qui j'\u00e9tais, et que je n'\u00e9tais point venue lui\ndonner de l'inqui\u00e9tude sur nos anciens rapports que j'esp\u00e9rais qui\n\u00e9taient enti\u00e8rement oubli\u00e9s, mais que je m'adressais \u00e0 lui comme une\nsoeur \u00e0 son fr\u00e8re, lui demandant assistance dans le cas de cette\nprovision que notre m\u00e8re, \u00e0 son d\u00e9c\u00e8s, avait laiss\u00e9e pour me supporter,\net o\u00f9 je n'avais point de doute qu'il me ferait justice, surtout\nregardant que j'\u00e9tais venue si loin pour m'en informer.\nJe lui disais dans ma lettre des choses fort tendres au sujet de son\nfils, qu'il savait bien, lui disais-je, qui \u00e9tait mon enfant, et\nqu'ainsi que je n'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 coupable de rien en me mariant \u00e0 lui, non\nplus que lui en m'\u00e9pousant, puisque nous ne savions point du tout que\nnous fussions parents; ainsi j'esp\u00e9rais qu'il c\u00e9derait \u00e0 mon d\u00e9sir le\nplus passionn\u00e9 de voir une seule fois mon cher et unique enfant et de\nmontrer quelque peu des infirmit\u00e9s d'une m\u00e8re, \u00e0 cause que je pr\u00e9servais\nune si violente affection pour ce fils qui ne pouvait avoir gard\u00e9 de\nsouvenir de moi en aucune fa\u00e7on.\nJe pensais bien qu'en recevant cette lettre, il la donnerait\nimm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 lire \u00e0 son fils, ses yeux \u00e9tant, ainsi que je savais, si\nfaibles qu'il ne pouvait point voir pour la lire: mais tout alla mieux\nencore, car il avait permis \u00e0 son fils, \u00e0 cause que sa vue \u00e9tait faible,\nd'ouvrir toutes les lettres qui lui viendraient en main \u00e0 son nom, et le\nvieux monsieur \u00e9tant absent ou hors de la maison quand mon messager\narriva, ma lettre vint tout droit dans les mains de mon fils, et il\nl'ouvrit et la lut.\nIl fit venir le messager apr\u00e8s quelque peu de pause et lui demanda o\u00f9\n\u00e9tait la personne qui lui avait remis cette lettre. Le messager lui dit\nl'endroit, qui \u00e9tait \u00e0 environ sept milles, de sorte qu'il lui dit\nd'attendre, se fit seller un cheval, emmena deux domestiques, et le\nvoil\u00e0 venir vers moi avec le messager. Qu'on juge de la consternation o\u00f9\nje fus quand mon messager revint et me dit que le vieux monsieur n'\u00e9tait\npas chez lui, mais que son fils \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 avec lui et que j'allais le\nvoir tout \u00e0 l'heure. Je fus parfaitement confondue, car je ne savais si\nc'\u00e9tait la guerre ou la paix, et j'ignorais ce qu'il fallait faire.\nToutefois, je n'eus que bien peu de moments pour r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, car mon fils\n\u00e9tait sur les talons du messager, et arrivant \u00e0 mon logement, il fit \u00e0\nl'homme qui \u00e9tait \u00e0 la porte quelque question en ce genre, je suppose,\ncar je ne l'entendis pas, \u00e0 savoir quelle \u00e9tait la dame qui l'avait\nenvoy\u00e9e, car le messager dit: \u00abC'est elle qui est l\u00e0, monsieur\u00bb; sur\nquoi mon fils vient droit \u00e0 moi, me baise, me prit dans ses bras,\nm'embrassa avec tant de passion qu'il ne pouvait parler et je pouvais\nsentir sa poitrine se soulever et haleter comme un enfant qui pleure et\nsanglote sans pouvoir s'\u00e9crier.\nJe ne puis ni exprimer ni d\u00e9crire la joie qui me toucha jusqu'\u00e0 l'\u00e2me\nquand je trouvai, car il fut ais\u00e9 de d\u00e9couvrir cette partie, qu'il\nn'\u00e9tait pas venu comme un \u00e9tranger, mais comme un fils vers une m\u00e8re, et\nen v\u00e9rit\u00e9 un fils qui n'avait jamais su avant ce que c'\u00e9tait que d'avoir\nune m\u00e8re, et en somme nous pleur\u00e2mes l'un sur l'autre pendant un temps\nconsid\u00e9rable, jusqu'enfin il s'\u00e9cria le premier:\n--Ma ch\u00e8re m\u00e8re, dit-il, vous \u00eates encore vivante! Je n'avais jamais\nesp\u00e9r\u00e9 de voir votre figure.\nPour moi je ne pus rien dire pendant longtemps.\nApr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes tous deux recouvr\u00e9 nos esprits et que nous f\u00fbmes\ncapables de causer, il me dit l'\u00e9tat o\u00f9 \u00e9taient les choses. Il me dit\nqu'il n'avait point montr\u00e9 ma lettre \u00e0 son p\u00e8re et qu'il ne lui en avait\npoint parl\u00e9, que ce que sa grand-m\u00e8re m'avait laiss\u00e9 \u00e9tait entre ses\nmains \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame et qu'il me rendrait justice \u00e0 ma pleine satisfaction;\nque pour son p\u00e8re, il \u00e9tait vieux et infirme \u00e0 la fois de corps et\nd'esprit, qu'il \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s irritable et col\u00e8re, presque aveugle et\nincapable de tout; et qu'il faisait grand doute qu'il s\u00fbt agir dans une\naffaire qui \u00e9tait de nature aussi d\u00e9licate; et que par ainsi il \u00e9tait\nvenu lui-m\u00eame autant pour se satisfaire en me voyant, ce dont il n'avait\npu s'emp\u00eacher, que pour me mettre en mesure de juger, apr\u00e8s avoir vu o\u00f9\nen \u00e9taient les choses, si je voulais me d\u00e9couvrir \u00e0 son p\u00e8re ou non.\nTout cela avait \u00e9t\u00e9 men\u00e9 en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de mani\u00e8re si prudente et avis\u00e9e que\nje vis que mon fils \u00e9tait homme de bon sens et n'avait point besoin\nd'\u00eatre instruit par moi. Je lui dis que je ne m'\u00e9tonnais nullement que\nson p\u00e8re f\u00fbt comme il l'avait d\u00e9crit \u00e0 cause que sa t\u00eate avait \u00e9t\u00e9 un\npeu touch\u00e9e avant mon d\u00e9part et que son tourment principal avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nqu'il n'avait point pu me persuader de vivre avec lui comme sa femme\napr\u00e8s que j'avais appris qu'il \u00e9tait mon fr\u00e8re, que comme il savait\nmieux que moi quelle \u00e9tait la condition pr\u00e9sente de son p\u00e8re, j'\u00e9tais\npr\u00eate \u00e0 me joindre \u00e0 lui en telle mesure qu'il m'indiquerait, que je ne\ntenais point \u00e0 voir son p\u00e8re puisque j'avais vu mon fils et qu'il n'e\u00fbt\npu me dire de meilleure nouvelle que de m'apprendre que ce que sa\ngrand'm\u00e8re m'avait laiss\u00e9 avait \u00e9t\u00e9 confi\u00e9 \u00e0 ses mains \u00e0 lui qui, je\nn'en doutais pas, maintenant qu'il savait qui j'\u00e9tais, ne manquerait\npas, ainsi qu'il avait dit, de me faire justice. Puis je lui demandai\ncombien de temps il y avait que ma m\u00e8re \u00e9tait morte et en quel endroit\nelle avait rendu l'esprit et je lui donnai tant de d\u00e9tails sur la\nfamille que je ne lui laissai point lieu de douter de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que\nj'\u00e9tais r\u00e9ellement et v\u00e9ritablement sa m\u00e8re.\nMon fils me demanda alors o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais et quelles dispositions j'avais\nprises. Je lui dis que j'\u00e9tais fix\u00e9e sur la rive de la baie qui est dans\nle Maryland, sur la plantation d'un ami particulier qui \u00e9tait venu\nd'Angleterre dans le m\u00eame vaisseau que moi; que pour la rive de la baie\no\u00f9 je me trouvais, je n'y avais point d'habitation. Il me dit que\nj'allais rentrer avec lui et demeurer avec lui, s'il me plaisait, tant\nque je vivrais, que pour son p\u00e8re il ne reconnaissait personne et qu'il\nne ferait point tant que d'essayer de deviner qui j'\u00e9tais. Je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis\nun peu et lui dis que malgr\u00e9 que ce ne f\u00fbt en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 point un petit\nsouci pour moi que de vivre si \u00e9loign\u00e9e de lui, pourtant je ne pouvais\ndire que ce me serait la chose la plus confortable du monde que de\ndemeurer dans la m\u00eame maison que lui, et que d'avoir toujours devant moi\nce malheureux objet qui avait jadis si cruellement d\u00e9truit ma paix, et\nque, malgr\u00e9 le bonheur que j'aurais \u00e0 jouir de sa soci\u00e9t\u00e9 (de mon fils),\nou d'\u00eatre si pr\u00e8s de lui que possible, pourtant je ne saurais songer \u00e0\nrester dans une maison o\u00f9 je vivrais aussi dans une retenue constante de\ncrainte de me trahir dans mon discours, ni ne serais-je capable de\nr\u00e9fr\u00e9ner quelques expressions en causant avec lui comme mon fils qui\npourraient d\u00e9couvrir toute l'affaire, chose qui ne conviendrait en\naucune fa\u00e7on.\nIl reconnut que j'avais raison en tout ceci.\n--Mais alors, ma ch\u00e8re m\u00e8re, dit-il, il faut que vous soyez aussi pr\u00e8s\nde moi que possible.\nIl m'emmena donc avec lui \u00e0 cheval jusqu'\u00e0 une plantation qui joignait\nla sienne et o\u00f9 je fus aussi bien entretenue que j'eusse pu l'\u00eatre chez\nlui-m\u00eame. M'ayant laiss\u00e9e l\u00e0, il s'en retourna apr\u00e8s m'avoir dit qu'il\nme parlerait de la grosse affaire le jour suivant, et m'ayant d'abord\nappel\u00e9e sa tante apr\u00e8s avoir donn\u00e9 ordre aux jeunes gens qui, para\u00eet-il,\n\u00e9taient ses fermiers, de me traiter avec tout le respect possible,\nenviron deux heures apr\u00e8s qu'il fut parti, il m'envoya une fille de\nservice et un petit n\u00e8gre pour prendre mes ordres et des provisions\ntoutes pr\u00e9par\u00e9es pour mon souper; et ainsi, je me trouvai comme si\nj'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 dans un nouveau monde, et je commen\u00e7ai presque de souhaiter\nque je n'eusse point amen\u00e9 d'Angleterre mon mari du Lancashire.\nToutefois, c'\u00e9tait un souhait o\u00f9 il n'y avait pas de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9, car\nj'aimais profond\u00e9ment mon mari du Lancashire, ainsi que j'avais toujours\nfait depuis le commencement, et il le m\u00e9ritait autant qu'il \u00e9tait\npossible \u00e0 un homme, soit dit en passant.\nLe lendemain matin, mon fils vint me rendre encore visite presque\naussit\u00f4t que je fus lev\u00e9e. Apr\u00e8s un peu de discours, il tira\npremi\u00e8rement un sac en peau de daim et me le donna, qui contenait\ncinquante-cinq pistoles d'Espagne, et me dit que c'\u00e9tait pour solder la\nd\u00e9pense que j'avais faite en venant d'Angleterre, car, bien que ce ne\nfut pas son affaire, pourtant il ne pensait point que j'eusse apport\u00e9\nbeaucoup d'argent avec moi, puisque ce n'\u00e9tait point l'usage d'en\napporter dans cette contr\u00e9e; puis il tira le testament de sa grand'm\u00e8re\net me le lut, par o\u00f9 il paraissait qu'elle m'avait laiss\u00e9 une plantation\nsur la rivi\u00e8re de York avec tous les domestiques et b\u00e9tail y\nappartenant, et qu'elle l'avait mise en d\u00e9p\u00f4t entre les mains de ce mien\nfils pour mon usage le jour o\u00f9 il apprendrait o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, la consignant\n\u00e0 mes h\u00e9ritiers, si j'avais des enfants, et \u00e0 d\u00e9faut d'h\u00e9ritiers, \u00e0\nquiconque il me plairait de la l\u00e9guer par testament; que le revenu\ncependant, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'on entendrait parler de moi, appartiendrait \u00e0\nmon dit fils, et que si je n'\u00e9tais point vivante, la propri\u00e9t\u00e9\nretournerait \u00e0 lui et \u00e0 ses h\u00e9ritiers.\nCette plantation, quoiqu'elle f\u00fbt \u00e9loign\u00e9e de la sienne, il me dit qu'il\nne l'avait pas afferm\u00e9e, mais qu'il la faisait administrer par un g\u00e9rant\nprincipal, ainsi qu'il faisait pour une autre qui \u00e9tait \u00e0 son p\u00e8re et\nqui \u00e9tait situ\u00e9e tout pr\u00e8s, et qu'il allait l'inspecter lui-m\u00eame trois\nou quatre fois l'ann\u00e9e.\nJe lui demandai ce qu'il pensait que la plantation pourrait bien valoir;\nil me dit que si je voulais l'affermer, il m'en donnerait environ 60\u00a3\npar an, mais que si je voulais y vivre, qu'elle vaudrait beaucoup plus,\net qu'il pensait qu'elle pourrait me rapporter environ 150\u00a3 par an.\nMais, regardant que je m'\u00e9tablirais sans doute sur la rive de la baie ou\nque peut-\u00eatre j'avais l'id\u00e9e de retourner au Angleterre, si je voulais\nlui en laisser la g\u00e9rance, il l'administrerait pour moi ainsi qu'il\nl'avait fait pour lui-m\u00eame, et qu'il pensait pouvoir m'envoyer assez de\ntabac pour rendre annuellement environ 100\u00a3, quelquefois plus.\nLa tendre conduite de mon fils et ses offres pleines de bont\u00e9\nm'arrach\u00e8rent des larmes presque tout le temps qu'il me parlait; en\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, je pus \u00e0 peine discourir avec lui, sinon dans les intervalles de\nma passion. Cependant enfin je commen\u00e7ai, et exprimant mon \u00e9tonnement\nsur le bonheur que j'avais que le d\u00e9p\u00f4t de ce que ma m\u00e8re m'avait laiss\u00e9\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 remis aux mains de mon propre enfant, je lui dis que, pour ce\nqui \u00e9tait de l'h\u00e9ritage de ce domaine, je n'avais point d'enfant que lui\nau monde, et que j'avais pass\u00e9 le temps d'en avoir si je me mariais, et\nque par ainsi je le priais de faire un \u00e9crit, que j'\u00e9tais pr\u00eate \u00e0\nsigner, par lequel, apr\u00e8s moi, je le l\u00e9guerais enti\u00e8rement \u00e0 lui et \u00e0\nses h\u00e9ritiers.\nEt cependant, souriant, je lui demandai ce qui faisait qu'il restait\ngar\u00e7on si longtemps. Sa r\u00e9ponse, tendre et prompte, fut que la Virginie\nne produisait point abondance de femmes et que puisque je parlais de\nretourner en Angleterre, il me priait de lui envoyer une femme de\nLondres.\nTelle fut la substance de notre conversation la premi\u00e8re journ\u00e9e, la\nplus charmante journ\u00e9e qui ait jamais pass\u00e9 sur ma t\u00eate pendant ma vie\net qui me donna la plus profonde satisfaction. Il revint ensuite chaque\njour et passa une grande partie de son temps avec moi, et m'emmena dans\nplusieurs maisons de ses amis o\u00f9 je fus entretenue avec grand respect.\nAussi je d\u00eenai plusieurs fois dans sa propre maison, o\u00f9 il prit soin\ntoujours de tenir son p\u00e8re \u00e0 demi mort tellement \u00e0 l'\u00e9cart que je ne le\nvis jamais, ni lui moi, je lui fit un cadeau, et c'\u00e9tait tout ce que\nj'avais de valeur, et c'\u00e9tait une des montres en or desquelles, ai-je\ndit, j'avais deux dans mon coffre, et je me trouvais avoir celle-ci sur\nmoi, et je la lui donnai \u00e0 une troisi\u00e8me visite, je lui dis que je\nn'avais rien de valeur \u00e0 donner que cette montre et que je le priais de\nla baiser quelquefois en souvenir de moi. Je ne lui dis pas, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9,\nque je l'avais vol\u00e9e au c\u00f4t\u00e9 d'une dame dans une salle de r\u00e9union de\nLondres: soit dit en passant!\nIl demeura un moment h\u00e9sitant, comme s'il doutait s'il devait la prendre\nou non, mais j'insistai et je l'obligeai \u00e0 l'accepter, et elle ne valait\npas beaucoup moins que sa poche en cuir pleine d'or d'Espagne, non, m\u00eame\nsi on l'estimait ainsi qu'\u00e0 Londres, tandis qu'elle valait le double\nici. \u00c0 la fin, il la prit, la baisa et me dit que cette montre serait\nune dette pour lui, mais qu'il la payerait tant que je vivrais.\nQuelques jours apr\u00e8s, il apporta les \u00e9crits de donation, et il amena un\nnotaire avec lui, et je les signai de bien bon gr\u00e9, et les lui remis\navec cent baisers, car s\u00fbrement jamais rien ne se passa entre une m\u00e8re\net un enfant tendre et respectueux avec plus d'affection. Le lendemain,\nil m'apporte une obligation sous seing et sceau par o\u00f9 il s'engageait \u00e0\ng\u00e9rer la plantation \u00e0 mon compte et \u00e0 remettre le revenu \u00e0 mon ordre ou\nque je fusse; et tout ensemble il s'obligeait \u00e0 ce que ce revenu f\u00fbt de\n100\u00a3 par an. Quand il eut fini, il me dit que, puisque j'\u00e9tais entr\u00e9e en\npossession avant la r\u00e9colte, j'avais droit au revenu de l'ann\u00e9e courante\net me paya donc 100\u00a3 en pi\u00e8ces de huit d'Espagne, et me pria de lui en\ndonner un re\u00e7u pour solde de tout compte de cette ann\u00e9e, expirant au\nNo\u00ebl suivant; nous \u00e9tions alors \u00e0 la fin d'ao\u00fbt.\nJe demeurai l\u00e0 plus de cinq semaines, et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 j'eus assez \u00e0 faire\npour m'en aller, m\u00eame alors, il voulait m'accompagner jusque de l'autre\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 de la baie, ce que je refusai express\u00e9ment; pourtant, il insista\npour me faire faire la travers\u00e9e dans une chaloupe qui lui appartenait,\nqui \u00e9tait construite comme un yacht, et qui lui servait autant \u00e0 son\nplaisir qu'\u00e0 ses affaires. J'acceptai; si bien qu'apr\u00e8s les plus tendres\nexpressions d'amour filial et d'affection, il me laissa partir, et\nj'arrivai saine et sauve, au bout de deux jours, chez mon ami le quaker.\nJ'apportais avec moi, pour l'usage de notre plantation, trois chevaux\navec harnais et selles, des cochons, deux vaches et mille autres choses,\ndons de l'enfant le plus tendre et le plus affectueux que femme ait\njamais eu. Je racontai \u00e0 mon mari tous les d\u00e9tails de ce voyage, sinon\nque j'appelai mon fils mon cousin; et d'abord je lui dis que j'avais\nperdu ma montre, chose qu'il parut regarder comme un malheur; mais\nensuite je lui dis la bont\u00e9 que mon cousin m'avait t\u00e9moign\u00e9e, et que ma\nm\u00e8re m'avait laiss\u00e9 telle plantation, et qu'il l'avait conserv\u00e9e pour\nmoi dans l'espoir qu'un jour ou l'autre il aurait de mes nouvelles; puis\nje lui dis que je l'avais remise \u00e0 sa g\u00e9rance, et qu'il me rendrait\nfid\u00e8lement compte du revenu; puis je tirai les 100\u00a3 en argent, qui\n\u00e9taient le revenu de la premi\u00e8re ann\u00e9e; enfin, tirant la bourse en peau\nde daim avec les pistoles:\n--Et voil\u00e0, mon ami, m'\u00e9criai-je, la montre en or! Et mon mari de dire:\n--Ainsi, la bont\u00e9 divine op\u00e8re s\u00fbrement les m\u00eames effets dans toutes les\n\u00e2mes sensibles, partout o\u00f9 le coeur est touch\u00e9 de la gr\u00e2ce!\nPuis levant les deux mains, en une extase de joie:\n--Quelle n'est pas la bont\u00e9 de Dieu, s'\u00e9cria-t-il, pour un chien ingrat\ntel que moi!\nPuis je lui fis voir ce que j'avais apport\u00e9 dans la chaloupe; je veux\ndire les chevaux, cochons, et vaches et autres provisions pour notre\nplantation; toutes choses qui ajout\u00e8rent \u00e0 sa surprise et emplirent son\ncoeur de gratitude. Cependant nous continu\u00e2mes de travailler \u00e0 notre\n\u00e9tablissement et nous nous gouvern\u00e2mes par l'aide et la direction de\ntels amis que nous nous f\u00eemes l\u00e0, et surtout de l'honn\u00eate quaker, qui se\nmontra pour nous ami fid\u00e8le, solide et g\u00e9n\u00e9reux; et nous e\u00fbmes tr\u00e8s bon\nsucc\u00e8s; car ayant un fonds florissant pour d\u00e9buter, ainsi que j'ai dit,\net qui maintenant s'\u00e9tait accru par l'addition de 130\u00a3 d'argent, nous\naugment\u00e2mes le nombre de notre domestique, b\u00e2t\u00eemes une fort belle\nmaison, et d\u00e9frich\u00e2mes chaque ann\u00e9e une bonne \u00e9tendue de terre. La\nseconde ann\u00e9e j'\u00e9crivis \u00e0 ma vieille gouvernante, pour lui faire part de\nla joie de notre succ\u00e8s, et je l'instruisis de la fa\u00e7on dont elle devait\nemployer la somme que je lui avais laiss\u00e9e, qui \u00e9tait de 250\u00a3, ainsi que\nj'ai dit, et qu'elle devait nous envoyer en marchandises: chose qu'elle\nex\u00e9cuta avec sa fid\u00e9lit\u00e9 habituelle, et le tout nous arriva \u00e0 bon port.\nL\u00e0 nous e\u00fbmes suppl\u00e9ment de toutes sortes d'habits, autant pour mon mari\nque pour moi-m\u00eame; si je pris un soin particulier de lui acheter toutes\nces choses que je savais faire ses d\u00e9lices: telles que deux belles\nperruques longues, deux \u00e9p\u00e9es \u00e0 poign\u00e9e d'argent, trois ou quatre\nexcellents fusils de chasse, une belle selle garnie de fourreaux \u00e0\npistolets et de tr\u00e8s bons pistolets, avec un manteau d'\u00e9carlate; et, en\nsomme, tout ce que je pus imaginer pour l'obliger et le faire para\u00eetre,\nainsi qu'il \u00e9tait, brave gentilhomme; je fis venir bonne quantit\u00e9 de\ntelles affaires de m\u00e9nage dont nous avions besoin, avec du linge pour\nnous deux; quant \u00e0 moi j'avais besoin de tr\u00e8s peu d'habits ou de linge,\n\u00e9tant fort bien fournie auparavant, le reste de ma cargaison se\ncomposait de quincaillerie de toute sorte, harnais pour les chevaux,\noutils, v\u00eatements pour les serviteurs, et drap de laine, \u00e9toffes,\nserges, bas, souliers, chapeaux et autres choses telles qu'en porte le\ndomestique, le tout sous la direction du quaker; et toute cette\ncargaison vint \u00e0 bon port et en bonne condition avec trois filles de\nservice, belles et plantureuses, que ma vieille gouvernante avait\ntrouv\u00e9es pour moi, assez appropri\u00e9es \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions et au\ntravail que nous avions \u00e0 leur donner; l'une desquelles se trouva\narriver double, s'\u00e9tant fait engrosser par un des matelots du vaisseau,\nainsi qu'elle l'avoua plus tard, avant m\u00eame que le vaisseau f\u00fbt arriv\u00e9 \u00e0\nGravesend; de sorte qu'elle mit au monde un gros gar\u00e7on, environ sept\nmois apr\u00e8s avoir touch\u00e9 terre.\nMon mari, ainsi que vous pouvez bien penser fut un peu surpris par\nl'arriv\u00e9e de cette cargaison d'Angleterre et me parlant un jour, apr\u00e8s\nqu'il en eut vu les d\u00e9tails:\n--Ma ch\u00e9rie, dit-il, que veut dire tout cela? Je crains que tu nous\nendettes trop avant: quand pourrons-nous payer toutes ces choses?\nJe souris et lui dis que tout \u00e9tait pay\u00e9; et puis je lui dis que ne\nsachant point ce qui pourrait nous arriver dans le voyage, et regardant\n\u00e0 quoi notre condition pourrait nous exposer, je n'avais pas emport\u00e9\ntout mon fonds et que j'en avais laiss\u00e9 aux mains de mon amie cette\npartie que, maintenant que nous avions pass\u00e9 la mer et que nous avions\nheureusement \u00e9tablis, j'avais fait venir afin qu'il la v\u00eet.\nIl fut stup\u00e9fait et demeura un instant \u00e0 compter sur ses doigts, mais ne\ndit rien; \u00e0 la fin, il commen\u00e7a ainsi:\n--Attends, voyons, dit-il, comptant encore sur ses doigts, et d'abord\nsur le pouce.--il y a d'abord 246\u00a3 en argent, ensuite deux montres en\nor, des bagues \u00e0 diamant et de la vaisselle plate, dit-il,--sur l'index;\npuis sur le doigt suivant--nous avons une plantation sur la rivi\u00e8re\nd'York \u00e0 100\u00a3 par an, ensuite 150\u00a3 d'argent, ensuite une chaloupe\ncharg\u00e9e de chevaux, vaches, cochons et provisions--et ainsi de suite\njusqu'\u00e0 recommencer sur le pouce--et maintenant, dit-il, une cargaison\nqui a co\u00fbt\u00e9 250\u00a3 en Angleterre, et qui vaut le double ici.\n--Eh bien, dis-je; que fais-tu de tout cela?\n--Ce que j'en fais? dit-il. Mais qui donc pr\u00e9tend que je me suis fait\nduper quand j'ai \u00e9pous\u00e9 ma femme dans le Lancashire? Je crois que j'ai\n\u00e9pous\u00e9 une fortune, dit-il, et, ma foi, une tr\u00e8s belle fortune.\nEn somme, nous \u00e9tions maintenant dans une condition fort consid\u00e9rable,\net qui s'augmentait chaque ann\u00e9e; car notre nouvelle plantation\ncroissait admirablement entre nos mains, et dans les huit ann\u00e9es que\nnous y v\u00e9c\u00fbmes, nous l'amen\u00e2mes \u00e0 un point tel que le revenu en \u00e9tait\nd'au moins 300\u00a3 par an, je veux dire valait cette somme en Angleterre.\nApr\u00e8s que j'eus pass\u00e9 une ann\u00e9e chez moi, je fis de nouveau la travers\u00e9e\nde la baie pour aller voir mon fils et toucher les nouveaux revenus de\nma plantation; et je fus surprise d'apprendre, justement comme je\nd\u00e9barquais, que mon vieux mari \u00e9tait mort, et qu'on ne l'avait pas\nenterr\u00e9 depuis plus de quinze jours. Ce ne fut pas, je l'avoue, une\nnouvelle d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able, \u00e0 cause que je pouvais para\u00eetre maintenant, ainsi\nque je l'\u00e9tais, dans la condition de mariage; de sorte que je dis \u00e0 mon\nfils avant de le quitter que je pensais \u00e9pouser un gentilhomme dont la\nplantation joignait la mienne; et que malgr\u00e9 que je fusse l\u00e9galement\nlibre de me marier, pour ce qui \u00e9tait d'aucune obligation ant\u00e9rieure,\npourtant j'entretenais quelque crainte qu'on ne fit revivre une histoire\nqui pouvait donner de l'inqui\u00e9tude \u00e0 un mari. Mon fils, toujours tendre,\nrespectueux et obligeant, me re\u00e7ut cette fois chez lui, me paya mes cent\nlivres et me renvoya charg\u00e9e de pr\u00e9sents.\nQuelque temps apr\u00e8s, je fis savoir \u00e0 mon fils que j'\u00e9tais mari\u00e9e, et je\nl'invitai \u00e0 nous venir voir, et mon mari lui \u00e9crivit de son c\u00f4t\u00e9 une\nlettre fort obligeante o\u00f9 il l'invitait aussi; et en effet il vint\nquelques mois apr\u00e8s, et il se trouvait justement l\u00e0 au moment que ma\ncargaison arriva d'Angleterre, que je lui fis croire qui appartenait\ntoute \u00e0 l'\u00e9tat de mon mari, et non \u00e0 moi.\nIl faut observer que lorsque le vieux mis\u00e9rable, mon fr\u00e8re (mari) fut\nmort, je rendis franchement compte \u00e0 mon mari de toute cette affaire et\nlui dis que ce cousin, comme je l'appelais, \u00e9tait mon propre fils par\ncette malheureuse alliance. Il s'accorda parfaitement \u00e0 mon r\u00e9cit et me\ndit qu'il ne serait point troubl\u00e9 si le vieux, comme nous l'appelions,\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 vivant.\n--En effet, dit-il, ce n'\u00e9tait point ta faute, ni la sienne; c'\u00e9tait une\nerreur impossible \u00e0 pr\u00e9venir.\nIl lui reprocha seulement de m'avoir pri\u00e9e de tout cacher et de\ncontinuer \u00e0 vivre avec lui comme sa femme apr\u00e8s que j'avais appris qu'il\n\u00e9tait mon fr\u00e8re; \u00e7'avait \u00e9t\u00e9, dit-il, une conduite vile.\nAinsi toutes ces petites difficult\u00e9s se trouv\u00e8rent aplanies et nous\nv\u00e9c\u00fbmes ensemble dans la plus grande tendresse et le plus profond\nconfort que l'on puisse s'imaginer; nous sommes maintenant devenus\nvieux; je suis revenue en Angleterre, et j'ai pr\u00e8s de soixante-dix ans\nd'\u00e2ge, mon mari soixante-huit, ayant d\u00e9pass\u00e9 de beaucoup le terme\nassign\u00e9 \u00e0 ma d\u00e9portation; et maintenant, malgr\u00e9 toutes les fatigues et\ntoutes les mis\u00e8res que nous avons travers\u00e9es, nous avons conserv\u00e9 tous\ndeux bonne sant\u00e9 et bon coeur. Mon mari demeura l\u00e0-bas quelque temps\napr\u00e8s moi afin de r\u00e9gler nos affaires, et d'abord j'avais eu l'intention\nde retourner aupr\u00e8s de lui, mais sur son d\u00e9sir je changeai de r\u00e9solution\net il est revenu aussi en Angleterre o\u00f9 nous sommes r\u00e9solus \u00e0 passer les\nann\u00e9es qui nous restent dans une p\u00e9nitence sinc\u00e8re pour la mauvaise vie\nque nous avons men\u00e9e.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Moll Flanders\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " Esperanto\n", "content": "Produced by Darold Booton, David Starner and William W. Patterson\nROBINSONO KRUSO\nlia vivo kaj strangaj, mirindegaj aventuroj\nverkita de Daniel Defoe tradukis en 1908 Pastro A. Krafft\nPREFACE\nThe telegraph and telephone have made of the world a whispering\ngallery. Steam and electric traction have annihilated space. The\nscattered human race yet remains a strangely misunderstood family.\nWithin one hour the report of a momentous event may be shot through\n500 languages and as many more dialects; but convene a thousand\nrepresentative dissimilar one-speech people and all becomes Babel if\nnot Pandemonium. Impossible, indeed, for each to learn the language of\nthe thousand; but how small a matter for all to learn a common second\nlanguage if such a language can be produced.\nAnd it has been produced: Esperanto has been born a composite of the\npith of all language; precise, learnable at sight and almost\ngrammarless.\nThis Esperanto Classic, \u201cRobinsono Kruso,\u201d is somewhat of an\nachievement for American enterprise as it is the first of its size and\nkind yet published here. It has been undertaken with zeal and wrought\nout according to ability. The original translation was made by the\nhighly esteemed Rev. A. Krafft. Other friends and supporters are:\n  William D. Chandler, \u201c\u0108efmonhelpanto.\u201d\n  Prof. E. V. Huntington, Harvard University.\n  Prof. D. O. S. Lowell, Roxbury Latin School.\n  Mr. Edwin D. Mead, Peace Movement.\n  Mrs. Dr. N. E. Wood, Newton Theol. Sem.\n  Kambri\u011da Klubo.\n  J. M. Connolly, M. D.\n  Mr. W. L. Church.\n  Mr. G. W. Lee.\n  Dr. W. G. Nowell.\n  Mr. L. B. Luders.\nTrusting that this book will find favor and meet reasonably the\nexpectations of the \u201cEsperantistaro de Ameriko kaj tutmondo,\u201d we\nheartily submit it to the entire reading world.\nANTA\u016cPAROLO\nTelegrafio kaj telefonio kreis el la mondo flustrogalerion.\nTrakcio vapora kaj elektra neniigis la spacon. Sed la disa\nhomaro ankora\u016d estas strange miskomprenata familio. Dum horeto\neblas \u0135eti raporton pri gravega okazo per 500 lingvoj kaj per\ntiom da dialektoj; sed kunvoku unulingvajn reprezentantojn de\nmil diversaj lingvoj kaj \u0109io Babeli\u011das, se ne Pandemonii\u011das.\nJa ne eblas, ke \u0109iu lernos la mil lingvojn de la aliuloj; sed\npor \u0109iu estas malgranda afero lerni unu komunan duan lingvon,\nse tia lingvo estas farebla.\nKaj tia lingvo jam estas farita: Esperanto naski\u011dis el la kerno de\n\u0109iuj lingvoj; preciza, unuavide lernebla, kaj preska\u016d sengramatika.\n\u0108i tiu Esperanto klasiko, \u201cRobinsono Kruso\u201d, estas ioma atinga\u0135o\npor Amerika entrepreno, \u0109ar \u011di estas la unua verko tiagranda kaj\ntiaspeca jam eldonita \u0109i tie. \u011ci estas entreprenita fervore kaj\nkreita la\u016dkapable. La originala traduko estis farita de la estimata\nRev. A. Krafft. Aliaj amikoj kaj subtenantoj estas:\n  William D. Chandler, \u201c\u0108efmonhelpanto\u201d.\n  Prof. E. V. Huntington, Harvard University.\n  Prof. D. O. S. Lowell, Roxbury Latin School.\n  Mr. Edwin D. Mead, Peace Movement.\n  Mrs. Dr. N. E. Wood, Newton Theol. Sem.\n  Kambri\u011da Klubo.\n  J. M. Connolly, M. D.\n  Mr. W. L. Church.\n  Mr. G. W. Lee.\n  Dr. W. G. Nowell.\n  Mr. L. B. Luders.\nKredante, ke \u0109i tiu libro estos favorita kaj plenumos la prudentajn\nesperojn de la \u201cEsperantistaro de Ameriko kaj tutmondo,\u201d ni kore\nprezentas \u011din al la tuta legantaro.\n                [Anta\u016dparolon tradukis el la angla William Patterson.]\nENKONDUKO\nLa a\u016dtoro de la \u0109iamfre\u015da Robinsono Kruso naski\u011dis en Londono,\nAnglujo, je 1661. Lia patro estis bu\u0109isto, kiu edukis sian filon por\nla pastreco, inter la Nekonformuloj, sed ne lin povis konvinki iam\nsekvi tiun profesion.\nLi estis rimarkinda pro la lerteco de sia spirito, kaj pro la mirinda\nri\u0109eco de siaj elpensoj, kaj li estis tre multeskribanta verkisto.\nEkzistas \u0109irka\u016d ducent dek verkoj de li, kiuj, kvankam la plejmulto\nestas fiktivaj, ka\u016dzis tre viveman impreson de vereco kaj realeco.\nLia politikaj verkoj ka\u016dzis al li multe da suferoj kaj monperdo; kiujn\nli kunigis en la jenaj strofoj:\n  Nenies sorto estis pli diversa ol la mia:\n  Mi estis dektrifoje ri\u0109a kaj malri\u0109a.\nSinjoro Walter Scott diras: \u201cEble ne ekzistas verko en angla lingvo,\nkiu estas pli universale legata kaj admirata ol la Aventuroj de\nRobinsono Kruso.\u201d\n\u0108i tiu traduko estas de \u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d de la \u201cAltemus\u2019 Young\nPeople\u2019s Library Edition\u201d.\nParto I\nMi naski\u011dis en Jorko, Anglujo, je Marto 1, 1632, kiu estas la\nsesjarrego de la re\u011do Karolo la Unua. Infane, mi sentadis grandan\ndeziron por pasigi mian vivon sur la maro; kaj plia\u011dante, la deziro\npliforti\u011dis; \u011dis fine, mi forlasis mian lernejon kaj hejmon, kaj\npiede, mi trovis mian vojon al Hull, kie mi balda\u016d trovis okupadon sur\n\u015dipo.\nPost kiam ni velveturis kelke da tagoj, okazis ventego, kaj kvinanokte\nla \u015dipo enfendi\u011dis. \u0108iuj al la pumpiloj rapidis. La \u015dipon ni sentis\n\u011demi en \u0109iuj siaj tabuloj, kaj \u011dian traba\u0135on ektremi de la anta\u016da \u011dis\nla posta parto; kaj balda\u016d klari\u011dis ke ne estas ia espero por \u011di, kaj\nke \u0109io, kion ni povas fari, estas savi niajn vivojn.\nUnue, ni pafadis pafilegojn por venigi helpon, kaj post kelke da\ntempo, \u015dipo ku\u015dante ne malproksime, alsendis boaton por helpi nin. Sed\nla maro estis tro maltrankvila por \u011di restadi \u015dipflanke; tial ni\nel\u0135etis \u015dnuregon, kiun la boatanoj ekkaptis kaj firme fiksis, kaj\ntiamaniere ni \u0109iuj enboati\u011dis.\nTamen, vani\u011dis en tia maltrankvila maro, por peni albordi\u011di la \u015dipon,\nkiu alsendis la virojn; a\u016d aluzi la remilojn de la boato, kaj ni ne\npovis ion fari, krom \u011din lasi peli\u011di teron.\nDuonhore, nia \u015dipo trafis rifon kaj subakvi\u011dis, kaj \u011din ni ne vidis\nplu. Tre malrapide, ni alproksimi\u011dis teron, kiun iafoje ni vidis, kiam\najn la boato levi\u011dis sur la supro de ia alta ondo; kaj tie ni vidis\nhomojn, kurante amase, tien kaj reen, havante unu celon, savi nin.\nFine, \u011dojege, ni surteri\u011dis, kie bon\u015dance, ni renkontis amikojn, kiuj\ndonis al ni helpon por reveturi al Hull; kaj se tiam, mi havus la\nbonan sencon por iri hejmon, estus pli bone por mi.\nLa viro, kies \u015dipo subakvi\u011dis, diris kun grava mieno: \u201cJunulo, ne iru\nplu surmaron; tiu ne estas la vivmaniero por vi.\u201d \u201cKial do, sinjoro,\nvi mem iros plu surmaron?\u201d \u201cTiu estas alia afero. Mi estas elnutrita\npor la maro, sed vi ne estas; vi venis sur mian \u015dipon por eltrovi, la\nstaton de vivo surmara, kaj vi povas diveni tion, kio okazos al vi, se\nvi ne reiros hejmon. Dio ne benos vin, kaj eble vi ka\u016dzis tiun-\u0109i\ntutan malbonon al ni.\u201d\nMi ne parolis alian vorton al li, kiun vojon li iris, mi nek scias,\nnek deziris scii\u011di, \u0109ar mi estis ofendita pro tiu-\u0109i mal\u011dentila\nparolado. Mi multe pensis; \u0109u iri hejmon, a\u016d \u0109u iradi surmaron. Honto\ndetenis min pri iri hejmon, kaj mi ne povis decidi la vivkuron, kiun\nmi estis ironta.\nKiel estis mia sorto travive, \u0109iam elekti la plej malbonon; tiel same\nmi nun faris. Mi havis oron en mia monujo, kaj bonan vesta\u0135on sur mia\nkorpo, sed, surmaron mi ree iris.\nSed nun, mi havis pli malbonan \u015dancon ol iam, \u0109ar, kiam ni estis tre\nmalproksime enmaro, kelke da Turkoj en \u015dipeto, plen\u0109ase alproksimi\u011dis\nal ni. Ni levis tiom da veloj, kiom niaj velstangoj povis elporti, por\nke ni forkuru de ili. Tamen, malgra\u016d tio, ni vidis ke niaj malamikoj\npli kaj pli alproksimi\u011dis, kaj certi\u011dis ke balda\u016d, ili atingos nian\n\u015dipon.\nFine, ili atingis nin; sed ni direktis niajn pafilegojn sur ilin, kio\nka\u016dzis portempe, ke ili deflanku sian vojon. Sed, ili da\u016drigis pafadon\nsur ni tiel longe, kiel ili estis en pafspaco. Proksimi\u011dante la duan\nfojon, kelkaj viroj atingis la ferdekon de nia \u015dipo, kaj ektran\u0109is la\nvelojn, kaj ekfaris \u0109iuspecajn difekta\u0135ojn. Tial, post kiam dek el\nniaj \u015dipanoj ku\u015das mortitaj, kaj la plimulto el la ceteraj havas\nvundojn, ni kapitulacis.\nLa \u0109efo de la Turkoj prenis min kiel sian raba\u0135on, al haveno okupita\nde Ma\u016droj. Li ne agis al mi tiel malbone, kiel mi lin unue ju\u011dis, sed\nli min laborigis kun la ceteraj de siaj sklavoj. Tio estis \u015dan\u011do en\nmia vivo, kiun mi neniam anta\u016dvidis. Ho ve! kiom mia koro mal\u011dojis,\npensante pri tiuj, kiujn mi lasis hejme, al kiuj mi ne montris tiom da\nkomplezemo kiom diri \u201cAdia\u016di\u201d kiam mi iris surmaron, a\u016d sciigi tion,\nkion mi intencas fari!\nTamen, \u0109io, kion mi travivis tiam, estas nur anta\u016dgusto de la penadoj\nkaj zorgoj, kiujn de tiam estis mia sorto suferi.\nUnue, mi pensis, ke la Turko kunprenos min kun si, kiam li ree iros\nsurmaron, kaj ke mi iel povos liberi\u011di; sed la espero nelonge da\u016dris,\n\u0109ar tiatempe li lasis min surtere por prizorgi liajn rikoltojn.\nTiamaniere mi vivis du jarojn. Tamen, la Turko konante kaj vidante min\nplu, min pli kaj pli liberigis. Li unufoje a\u016d dufoje \u0109iusemajne,\nveturis en sia boato por kapti iajn platfi\u015dojn, kaj iafoje, li\nkunprenis min kaj knabon kun si, \u0109ar ni estas rapidaj \u0109e tia sporto,\nkaj tial li pli kaj pli \u015datis min.\nUnu tagon, la Turko elsendis min, viron kaj knabon, boate, por kapti\nkelke da fi\u015doj. Surmare, okazas tia densa nebulo, ke dekduhore, ni ne\npovas vidi la teron, kvankam ni ne estas pli ol duonmejlon (800\nmetrojn) de la terbordo; kaj morga\u016dtage, kiam la suno levi\u011dis, nia\nboato estas enmaro almena\u016d dek mejlojn (16 kilometrojn) de la\nterbordo. La vento vigle blovis, kaj ni \u0109iuj tre bezonis nutra\u0135on; sed\nfine per la helpo de remiloj kaj veloj ni sendan\u011dere reatingis la\nterbordon.\nKiam la Turko scii\u011dis kiamaniere ni vojperdis, li diris, ke de nun,\nkiam li velveturos, li prenos boaton, kiu enhavos \u0109ion, kion ni\nbezonus, se ni longatempe estus detenataj surmare. Tial li farigis\ngrandan kajuton en la longboato de sia \u015dipo, kiel anka\u016d \u0109ambron por ni\nsklavoj. Unu tagon, li min sendis, por ke mi ordigu la boaton pro tio,\nke li havas du amikojn, kiuj intencas veturi kun li por fi\u015dkapti. Sed\nkiam la tempo alvenis, ili ne veturas; tial li sendis min, viron kaj\nknabon \u2014 kies nomo estas Zuro \u2014 por kapti kelke da fi\u015doj por la\ngastoj, kiuj estas vesperman\u011dontaj kun li.\nSubite, eniris en mian kapon la ideo, ke nun estas bona okazo, boate\nforkuri kaj liberi\u011di. Tial mi tuj prenis tiom da nutra\u0135o, kiom mi\npovas havigi, kaj mi diris al la viro, ke estus tro malrespekte,\nman\u011dante la panon metitan en la boaton por la Turko. Li diris, ke li\npensas tiel same, tial li alportis sakon da rizo kaj kelke da ruskoj\n(kukoj).\nDum la viro estis surtere, mi provizis iom da vino, pecegon da vakso,\nsegilon, hakilon, fosilon, iom da \u015dnurego, kaj \u0109iuspecajn objektojn,\nkiuj eble estos utilaj al ni. Mi sciis, kie trovi\u011das la vinkesto de la\nTurko, kaj mi \u011din metis surboaton dum la viro estas surtere. Per alia\nruzo, mi havigis \u0109ion, kion mi bezonis. Mi diris al la knabo, \u201cLa\npafiloj de la Turko estas en la boato, sed ne trovi\u011das ia pafa\u0135o. \u0108u\nvi pensas, ke vi povas havigi iom da \u011di? Vi scias kie \u011di estas\nkonservata, kaj eble ni volos pafi birdon a\u016d du.\u201d Li do alportis kesto\nkaj saketon, kiuj enhavas \u0109ion, kion ni eble bezonas por la pafiloj.\nTiujn-\u0109i mi metis surboaton, kaj poste velveturis por fi\u015dkapti.\nLa vento blovis de la nordo, a\u016d nordokcidento, tia vento estis malbona\npor mi; \u0109ar, se \u011di estus de la sudo, mi estus povinta velveturi al la\nterbordo de Hispanujo. Tamen, de kiu ajn loko la vento blovos, mi\nestis decidinta forkuri kaj lasi la ceterajn al ilia sorto. Mi do\nmallevis miajn hokfadenojn kvaza\u016d fi\u015dkapti, sed mi zorgis, ke mi havu\nmalbonan sukceson; kaj kiam la fi\u015doj mordis, mi ilin ne eltiris, \u0109ar\nmi deziris, ke la Ma\u016dro ilin ne vidu. Mi diris al li, \u201cTiu-\u0109i loko\nestas nebona; ni ne kaptos fi\u015dojn tie-\u0109i; ni devas iom anta\u016den iri.\u201d\nNu, la Ma\u016dro pensis, ke tion fari ne estos malbone. Li levis la\nvelojn, kaj, \u0109ar la direktilo estis en miaj manoj, mi elsendis la\nboaton unu mejlon a\u016d plu enmaron, kaj poste \u011din haltigis, kvaza\u016d mi\nintencas fi\u015dkapti.\nNun, mi pripensis, tiu-\u0109i estas mia okazo liberi\u011di; tial mi transdonis\nla direktilon al la knabo, kaj tiam ekprenis la Ma\u016dron \u0109irka\u016d la\ntalio, kaj el\u0135etis lin el la boato.\nMalsupren li falis! sed balda\u016d reaperis por ke, li povis na\u011di kvaza\u016d\nanaso. Li diris, ke li volonte irus \u0109irka\u016d la mondo kun mi, se mi\nenprenus lin.\nIom timante ke li surrampos la boatflankon, kaj reeni\u011dos perforte, mi\ndirektis mian pafilon sur lin, kaj diris, \u201cVi facile povas na\u011di\nalteron se vi tion deziras; tial, rapidi\u011du tien; plie, se vi reen\nalproksimi\u011dos la boaton, vi ricevos kuglon tra la kapo, \u0109ar, mi de nun\nintencas esti libera viro.\u201d\nTiam li ekna\u011dis, kaj sendube sendan\u011dere atingis la terbordon, \u0109ar la\nmaro estis tre trankvila.\nUnue, mi intencis kunpreni la Ma\u016dron kun mi, kaj na\u011digi Zuron alteron;\nsed la Ma\u016dro ne estis viro pri kiu mi povis konfidi.\nPost kiam li fori\u011dis, mi diris al Zuro, \u201cSe vi \u0135uros, ke vi estos\nfidela al mi, vi iam fari\u011dos grava viro; se vi ne \u0135uros, mi certe\nanka\u016d vin el\u0135etos el la boato.\u201d\nLa knabo tiel dol\u0109e ridetis, kiam li \u0135uris resti fidela al mi, ke mi\nlin ne povis dubi en mia koro.\nDum ankora\u016d ni povis vidi la Ma\u016dron (survoje alteren) ni anta\u016den iris\nenmaron, por ke li kaj tiuj, kiuj nin vidis de la terbordo, kredu ke\nni iros al la influejo de la markolo, \u0109ar neniu velveturis al la suda\nmarbordo, \u0109ar tie lo\u011das gento da homoj, kiuj la\u016d sciigoj, mortigas kaj\nman\u011das siajn malamikojn.\nTiam mi direktis mian veturadon oriente, por ke ni la\u016dlongiru la\nmarbordon, kaj, havante favoron venton kaj trankvilan maron, ni\nmorga\u016dtagmeze estis malapud kaj preter la povo de la Turko.\nAnkora\u016d, mi timis, ke mi estus kaptota de la Ma\u016droj; tial mi ne volis\niri surteron tage. Duonlume, ni direktis nian boaton alteren, kaj\natingis la enfluejon riveretan, de kiu mi pensis, ni povos na\u011di\nsurteron, kaj tiam rigardi la \u0109irka\u016da\u0135ojn. Sed kiam malheli\u011dis la\nlumo, ni a\u016ddis strangajn sonojn, bojojn, kriegojn, gruntojn,\nblekadojn. La malfeli\u0109a knabo diris, ke li ne kura\u011das iri surteron\nanta\u016d la tagi\u011do. \u201cNu,\u201d mi diris, \u201ctiuokaze, ni atendu, sed, tage,\npovas vidi nin la homoj, kiuj eble nin pli malhelpos ol sova\u011daj\nbestoj.\u201d \u201cTiam ni pafilos ilin,\u201d ridante diris Zuro, \u201ckaj forkurigu\nilin.\u201d\nMi \u011dojis vidi, ke la knabo montras tiom da gajeco, kaj mi donis al li\niom da pano kaj rizo. Tiunokte, ni silente ripozis, sed ne longe\ndormis, \u0109ar, post kelke da horoj, iaj grandegaj bestoj malsuprenvenis\nal la maro, por sin bani. La malfeli\u0109a knabo ektremis de kapo al\npiedoj pro la vida\u0135o. Unu el tiuj bestoj alproksimi\u011dis nian boaton,\nkaj, kvankam estis tro mallume por \u011din bone vidi, ni a\u016ddis \u011din blovi,\nkaj sciis, pro \u011dia bruego, ke \u011di certe estas granda. Fine, la bruto\ntiom alproksimi\u011dis la boaton, kiom la longeco de du remiloj; tial mi\npafis sur \u011din, kaj \u011di na\u011dis alteren.\nLa blekegoj kaj kriegoj, kiujn faris bestoj kaj birdoj pro la bruo de\nmia pafilo, \u015dajne montris, ke ni faris malbonan elekton por surterejo;\nsed, vole ne vole, ni devis iri surtere por ser\u0109i fre\u015dan fonton, por\nke ni povu plenigi niajn barelojn. Zuro diris, ke li eltrovus, \u0109u la\nfontaj akvoj ta\u016dgas por trinki, se mi permesus al li preni unu el la\nbotelegoj, kaj, ke li \u011din reportos plenigitan se la akvo estas bona.\n\u201cKial vi volas iri?\u201d mi diris; \u201cKial mi ne estas ironta? Vi povas\nresti en la boato.\u201d Kontra\u016de, Zuro diris, \u201cSe la sova\u011duloj venos, ili\nmin man\u011du; sed vi forkuru.\u201d Mi devis ami la junulon pro la afabla\nparolado. \u201cNu,\u201d mi diris, \u201cNi amba\u016d iros, kaj se la sova\u011duloj venos,\nni ilin mortigu; ja, ili ne man\u011dos a\u016d vin a\u016d min.\u201d\nMi donis al Zuro iom da rumo el la kesto de la Turko por reforti lin\nkaj ni iris surteron. La knabo ekiris kun sia pafilo mejlon de la\nloko, kie ni surteriris, kaj li revenis kun leporo, kiun li mortpafis,\nkaj kiun ni \u011doje kuiris kaj man\u011dis; la\u016d la bona nova\u0135o, kiun li\nraportis, li eltrovis fonton, kaj ne vidis sova\u011dulojn.\nMi divenis, ke la Promontoro de la Verdaj Insuloj ne estas\nmalproksime, \u0109ar mi vidis la supron de la Granda Pinto, kiun kiel mi\nsciis, estas apud ili. Mia sola espero estis, ke la\u016dlongirante la\nterbordon, ni trovos \u015dipon, kiu en\u015dipigos nin; kaj tiam, kaj ne anta\u016d\ntiam, mi sentos kvaza\u016d libera viro. Unuvorte, mi konfidis mian sorton\nal la \u015danco; a\u016d renkonti ian \u015dipon a\u016d morti.\nSurteron ni ekvidis iujn homojn, kiuj staras kaj rigardas nin. Ili\nestis nigraj, kaj ne portis vesta\u0135on. Mi estus irinta surteron al ili,\nsed Zuro, \u2014 kiu sciis plej bone \u2014 diris, \u201cNe vi iru! Ne vi iru!\u201d Tial\nmi direktis la boaton la\u016dteron, por ke mi povu paroli kun ili, kaj ili\nlongaspace iradis la\u016d ni. Mi ekvidis, ke unu havas lancon en mano.\nMi faris signojn, ke ili alportu iom da nutra\u0135o al mi, kaj ili\nsiaparte faris signojn, ke mi haltu mian boaton. Tial mi demetis la\nsupran parton de mia velo, kaj haltis, tiam du el ili ekforkuris; kaj,\nduonhore revenis kun iom da seki\u011dita viando, kaj ia greno kiu kreskas\nen tiu parto de la mondo. Tion-\u0109i ni deziregis, sed ne sciis, kiel\nhavigi \u011din, \u0109ar ni ne kura\u011dis iri surteron al ili, nek ili kura\u011dis\nalproksimi\u011di al ni.\nFine, ili eltrovis peron sendan\u011deran por ni \u0109iuj. Alportante la\nnutra\u0135on al la marbordo, ili \u011din demetis kaj tre fortirigis si mem dum\nni \u011din prenis. Ni faris signojn por montri nian dankon, ne havante ion\nalian, kion ni povas doni al ili. Sed bon\u015dance, ni balda\u016d kaptis\ngrandan donacon por ili; \u0109ar du sova\u011daj bestoj de la sama speco, pri\nkiu mi jam priparolis, venis plen\u0109ase de la montetoj al la maro.\nIli na\u011dis kvaza\u016d ili venis por sportigi. \u0108iuj forkuris de ili krom\ntiu, kiu portas la lancon. Unu el tiuj bestoj alproksimi\u011dis nian\nboaton; tial mi \u011din atendis kun mia pafilo; kaj tuj kiam \u011di estis en\npafspaco, mi \u011din pafis tra la kapo. Dufoje \u011di subakvi\u011dis kaj dufoje \u011di\nsuprenlevi\u011dis; kaj poste \u011di na\u011dis alteren, kaj falis senviva. La viroj\ntiom timis pro la pafilbruo, kiom ili anta\u016de timis je la vida\u0135o de la\nbestoj. Sed kiam mi faris signojn por ke ili venu al la marbordo, ili\ntuj venis.\nIli rapidis al sia raba\u0135o; kaj tordante \u0109irka\u016d \u011di \u015dnuregon, ili \u011din\nsendan\u011dere eltiris surteron.\nNi nun lasis niajn sova\u011dulojn kaj iradis dekdu tagojn plu. La terbordo\nanta\u016d ni etendis sin kvar a\u016d kvin mejlojn, (6.8 a\u016d 8.3 kilometrojn)\nbekforme; kaj ni devis veturi iom de la terbordo por atingi tiun\nterpinton, tiel ke ni portempe ne vidis teron.\nMi konfidis la direktilon al Zuro, kaj sidi\u011dis por pripensi tion, kion\nestos plej bone nun fari; kiam subite mi a\u016ddis, ke la knabo krias,\n\u201c\u015cipon kun velo! \u015dipon kun velo!\u201d Li ne montris multe da \u011dojo je la\nvida\u0135o, opiniante, ke la \u015dipo venis por repreni lin; sed mi bone\nscias, la\u016d la \u015dajno, ke \u011di ne estas iu el la \u015dipoj de la Turko.\nMi levis kiel eble plej multe da veloj por renkonti la \u015dipon \u011diavoje,\nkaj ordonis al Zuro, ke li ekpafu pafilon, \u0109ar mi esperis, ke se tiuj,\nkiuj estas sur la ferdeko ne povus a\u016ddi la sonon, ili vidus la\nfumigadon. Ili ja \u011din vidis, kaj tuj demetis siajn velojn por ke ni\npovu atingi ilin, kaj trihore, ni estis \u0109e la \u015dipflanko. La viroj\nparolis kun ni per la franca lingvo, sed ni ne povis kompreni tion,\nkion ili diras. Fine, Skoto sur\u015dipe diris per mia lingvo, \u201cKiu vi\nestas? De kien vi venas?\u201d Mi diris al li iomvorte, kiel mi liberi\u011dis\nde la Ma\u016droj.\nTiam, la \u015dipestro invitis min veni \u015dipbordon, kaj en\u015dipis min, Zuron\nkaj \u0109iujn miajn poseda\u0135ojn. Mi diris al li, ke li havu \u0109ion, kion mi\nhavas; sed li respondis, \u201cVi estas rericevonta viajn poseda\u0135ojn post\nkiam ni atingos teron, \u0109ar mi por vi nur faris tion, kion por mi vi\nfarus samstate.\u201d\nLi pagis al mi multan monon por mia boato, kaj diris, ke mi ricevos\negalan monon por Zuro, se mi lin fordonus. Sed mi diris al li, ke\nliberi\u011dinte kun helpo de la knabo, mi lin ne volas vendi. Li diris, ke\nestas juste kaj prave por mi tiel senti, sed, se mi decidus fordoni\nZuron, li estus liberigota dujare. Tial, \u0109ar la sklavo deziris iri, mi\nnenial diris ne. Trisemajne mi alvenis al \u0108iuj Sanktuloj Golfeto, kaj\nnun mi estis liberulo.\nMi ricevis multan monon por \u0109iujn miaj poseda\u0135oj, kaj kun \u011di, mi iris\nsurteron. Sed mi tute ne sciis, kion nun fari. Fine mi renkontis\nviron, kies stato estas la\u016d la mia, kaj ni amba\u016d akiris pecon da tero,\npor \u011din prilabori. Mia farmilaro, la\u016d la lia, estis malgranda, sed ni\nproduktigis la farmojn sufi\u0109e por subteni nin, sed ne plu. Ni bezonis\nhelpon, kaj nun mi eksentis, ke mi eraris, ellasante la knabon.\nMi tute ne \u015datis tiun manieron de vivo. Kion! mi pensis, \u0109u mi venis\ntian longan vojon por fari tion, kion mi la\u016dbone povus fari hejme, kaj\nkun miaj parencoj \u0109irka\u016d mi? Kaj pligrandi\u011dis mia mal\u011dojo, \u0109ar la\nbonamiko, kiu min al\u015dipis tien-\u0109i, intencas nune lasi tiun-\u0109i\nterbordon.\nKiam mi estis knabo, kaj ekiris surmaron, mi metis en la manojn de mia\nonklino, iom da mono pri kiu, mia bonamiko diris, ke mi bone farus, se\nmi \u011din elspezus pro mia bieno. Tial, post kiam li revenis hejmon, li\nalsendis iom da \u011di kontante, kaj la resta\u0135on kiel tukoj, \u015dtofoj,\nlana\u0135oj, kaj simila\u0135oj, kiujn li a\u0109etis. Mia onklino tiam metis en\nliajn manojn iom da livroj, kiel donaco al li, por montri sian\ndankecon pro \u0109io, kion li faris por mi; kaj per tiu mono, li afable\na\u0109etis sklavon por mi. Intertempe, mi jam a\u0109etis sklavon, tial mi nun\nhavas du, kaj \u0109io prosperis dum la sekvanta jaro.\nParto II\nSed balda\u016d miaj projektoj trograndi\u011dis la\u016d miaj rimedoj. Unu tagon\nalvenis kelke da viroj por peti min, ke mi komandu sklav\u015dipon\nelsendotan de ili. Ili diris, ke ili donos al mi parton en la sklavoj,\nkaj pagos la tutajn elspezojn \u015dar\u011de. Tio estus bona\u0135o por mi, se mi ne\nhavus bienojn kaj teron; sed nun, tian \u015dan\u011don fari, estus malsa\u011de kaj\nhazarde. Gajninte multe da mono, estis konsilinde ke mi la\u016de da\u016drigu\ntri a\u016d kvar jarojn plu. Nu, mi diris al la viroj, ke mi tre volonte\nirus, se ili dume prizorgus mian farmon, kion ili alpromesis.\nTial, mi faris mian testamenton, kaj bordi\u011dis tiun-\u0109i \u015dipon je la oka\ndatreveno de mia forlaso de Hull. Tiu-\u0109i sklav\u015dipo enhavis ses\npafilegojn, dekdu virojn kaj unu knabon. Ni kunprenis segilojn,\n\u0109enojn, ludilojn, globetojn, pecetojn de vitro, kaj tiajn komerca\u0135ojn\nkonvenajn al la gusto de tiuj, kun kiuj ni intencis komenci.\nNi ne estis pli ol dekdu tagoj de la ekvatoro, kiam ventego forpelis\nnin, ni ne sciis kien. Subite eksonis la krio \u201cTeron!\u201d kaj la \u015dipo\nalpu\u015di\u011dis sur sabla\u0135on, en kiun \u011di mallevi\u011dis tiel profunde, ke ni ne\npovis \u011din liberigi. Fine, ni eltrovis ke ni devas \u011din lasi, kaj atingi\nterbordon la\u016deble. Ekire, estis boaton sur \u011dia posta parto, sed ni\neltrovis, ke \u011di estis de\u015dirita per la forto de la ondoj. Nur unu\nboateto restis \u0109e la \u015dipflanko, tial ni enboati\u011dis en \u011din. Tie ni \u0109iuj\ntrovi\u011dis, sur la malglata maro! La koro de \u0109iu nun malforti\u011dis, vangoj\npali\u011dis, kaj niaj okuloj malklari\u011dis; \u0109ar estas nur unu espero,\neltrovi ian golfeton, kaj iel atingi rifu\u011dejon apudteran. Ni nun tute\ntransdonis niajn animojn al Dio.\nLa maro pli kaj pli malglati\u011dis kaj \u011dia blanka \u015da\u016dmo tordi\u011dis kaj\nbolis. Fine, la ondoj en sia furioza sporto disrompi\u011dis kontra\u016d la\nboatflanko, kaj ni \u0109iuj el\u0135eti\u011dis.\nMi povis bone na\u011di, sed la povo de la ondoj ka\u016dzis, ke mi perdis mian\nspiron tro multe por tion fari. Fine, unu granda ondo terenportis min,\nkaj lasis min sendan\u011dere, kvankam konsumite pro timego. Mi starigis\nmin sur piedoj, kaj penadis la\u016deble surteri\u011di, sed \u0135us tiam, la kurbo\nde ondego suprenlevi\u011dis kvaza\u016d monteto, kiun eviti, mi tute ne havis\nsufi\u0109an forton, tial \u011di marenportis min. Mi la\u016deble penadis na\u011di\nsupra\u0135e, entenante mian spiron, por tiun fari. La sekvanta ondo estis\negale alta, kaj enfermis min en sia vasto. Mi detenis miajn manojn \u0109e\nmia flanko, kaj tiam, mia kapo ekeli\u011dis de la ondoj. Tio donis al mi\nkura\u011don kaj spiradon, kaj balda\u016d miaj piedoj sentis teron.\nMomente, mi staris \u011dis la akvoj dekuris de mi, kaj tiam, mi na\u011dis\nla\u016dforte alteren; sed la ondoj min rekaptis, kaj dufoje plu ili min\nmarenportis, kaj dufoje plu min terenportis. Mi pensis, ke la lasta\nondo mortigos min, \u0109ar \u011di pu\u015dis min sur \u015dtonegon tiaforte, ke mi falis\nen ian svenon, kio, dankon al Dio, ne longe da\u016dris. Fine, \u011dojege, mi\natingis la krutega\u0135on apud la terbordo, kie mi trovis ian herbon\npreter la atingo de la maro. Tie mi sidigis min, fine sendan\u011dere\nsurtere.\nMi nur povis ekkrii per la vortoj de la psalmo, \u201cTiuj, kiuj veturas\nsurmaron en \u015dipoj vidas la fara\u0135ojn de la Sinjoro en la profunda\u0135o.\n\u0108ar, per Lia ordono la ventegoj levi\u011das, la ventoj blovas kaj levas la\nondojn; tiam, ili supreniras al la \u0109ielo; de tien, ili malsupreniras\nal la profunda\u0135o. Mia animo malforti\u011das, mi \u015danceli\u011das tien kaj reen,\nkaj mi ne scias tion, kion fari, tiam la Sinjoro elkondukas min el\n\u0109iuj miaj mizeroj.\u201d\nMi tiom \u011doji\u011das, ke \u0109io, kion mi povis fari, estis iri tien kaj reen\nsur la terbordo, jen levi miajn manojn, jen ilin faldi sur la brusto\nkaj danki Dion por \u0109io, kion li faris por mi, kvankam la ceteraj\n\u015dipanoj pereis. \u0108iuj krom mi pereis, kaj mi estas sendan\u011dera! Mi nun\nrigardis la \u0109irka\u016da\u0135on por eltrovi, kian lokon mi estis \u0135etita, simile\nal birdo en ventego. Tiam \u0109ia \u011dojo, kiun mi anta\u016de sentis, forlasis\nmin; \u0109ar mi estis malseka kaj malvarma kaj havis nenian sekan vesta\u0135on\npor revestigi min, nenion por nutri, kaj nenian amikon por helpi min.\nEstis tie-\u0109i sova\u011daj bestoj, sed mi ne havis pafilon, per kiu mi povis\npafi ilin a\u016d savi min de iliaj makzeloj. Mi nur havis tran\u0109ilon kaj\npipon.\nNun mallumi\u011dis; kaj kien mi iros por pasigi la nokton? Mi pensis, ke\nla supro de ia alta arbo estos bona rifu\u011dejo kontra\u016d dan\u011dero; kaj tie\nmi povas sidi kaj pripensi pri la monto, \u0109ar mi sentis nenian esperon\nde vivado. Nu, mi iris al mia arbo kaj faris ian neston por dormejo.\nTiam, mi tran\u0109is bastonon por forpeli la sova\u011dajn bestojn se iuj\nvenos, kaj ekdormis kvaza\u016d la bran\u0109nesto estis lanuglito.\nEstas hela taglumo, kiam mi veki\u011dis, anka\u016d la \u0109ielo estas klara, kaj\nla maro trankvila. Sed mi observis tra la arbsupro, ke nokte, la \u015dipo\nlasis la sabla\u0135on, kaj ku\u015das mejlon (1.7 kilometrojn) de mi kaj la\nboato estas surtere du mejloj dekstre. Mi iom la\u016dlongiris la terbordon\npor atingi la boaton, sed Golfeto de la maro lar\u011da unu mejlo min\ndetenis de \u011di. Tagmeze, la forfluo tiom forkuris, ke mi povis\nalproksimi\u011di la \u015dipon; kaj mi eltrovis, ke se ni restadus \u015dipbordon,\n\u0109iu nun estus bone.\nTiupense, mi ploris; ja, mi ne povis alie fari; sed, \u0109ar tio ne helpos\nion, mi pripensis ke estos plej bone por mi na\u011di al la \u015dipo. Mi rapide\nsenvestigis, mi saltis en la maron, kaj na\u011dis al la \u015dipruino. Sed\nkiamaniere mi suri\u011dos la ferdekon? Na\u011dante \u0109irka\u016d la \u015dipo, mi ekvidis\npecon da \u015dnurego pendante tiel malalten \u011diaflanke, ke unue la ondoj\nka\u015dis \u011din. Per helpo de la \u015dnurego mi sur\u015dipi\u011dis.\nMi trovis fendon en la malsupro de la \u015dipo. Vi povas esti certa, ke\nmia unua penso estis ser\u0109i por nutra\u0135o, kaj mi balda\u016d iris al la\npanujo, kaj mi ma\u0109is panon dum mi iris tien kaj reen, \u0109ar mi ne havis\ntempon por perdi. Trovi\u011dis tie anka\u016d iom da rumo, de kiu mi prenis\nsufi\u0109an trinkon kaj tio refortis min. Kion mi plej multe bezonis,\nestis boato por terenporti la poseda\u0135on. Sed vani\u011dis por deziri tion,\nkion mi ne povis havigi; nu, \u0109ar en la \u015dipo trovi\u011dis kelke da ekstraj\nvelstangoj, tri a\u016d kvar grandaj traboj el ligno, kaj unu ekstra masto\na\u016d du, mi komencis fari floson.\nMi metis kvar stangojn flanko \u0109e flanko, kaj la\u016dlar\u011de, surmetis sur\nilin mallongajn pecetojn de tabulo por fortikigi mian floson. Kvankam\nla tabuloj povis elporti mian pezon, ili estis tro maldikaj por\nelporti multe da mia \u015dar\u011do. Tial mi prenis segilon, kiu estas en la\n\u015dipo, kaj segis maston en tri longa\u0135ojn, kaj ili multe fortikigis la\nfloson. Mi trovis iom da pano kaj rizo, holandan froma\u011don, kaj iom da\nsekigita kapra\u0135o. Ekire, estis iom da tritiko, sed la ratoj \u011din\neltrovis, kaj neniom restis.\nMia sekvanta tasko estis, ke mi \u015dirmu miajn poseda\u0135ojn kontra\u016d la\n\u015dprucado de la maro; ne postulis multe da tempo por tion fari, \u0109ar,\nestis sur\u015dipe tri kestoj sufi\u0109e grandaj por enhavigi \u0109ion, kaj ilin mi\nmetis surfloson. La enfluo forportis mian veston kaj \u0109emizon, kiujn mi\nnelonge lasis surtere; sed estis kelke da novaj vesta\u0135oj en la \u015dipo.\n\u201cVidu! jen kapta\u0135o!\u201d mi diris la\u016dte (kvankam neniu \u0109eestis por a\u016ddi\nmin); \u201cnun mi ne malnutri\u011dos!\u201d \u0109ar mi trovis kvar grandajn pafilojn.\nSed kiamaniere mi surterigos mian floson? Mi ne havas velon, nek\nremilojn; kaj ekvento ka\u016dzos degliti \u0109iun mian poseda\u0135on. Tamen, estis\ntri aferoj, pri kiuj mi \u011dojis \u2014 trankvila maro, altera fluo, kaj\nventeto por blovi min alteren.\nBon\u015dance, mi trovis kelkajn remilojn en parto de la \u015dipo \u011disnune\nneser\u0109ita. Per ili mi ekveturis alteren, kaj duonmejle, mia floso bone\nsurna\u011dis; sed balda\u016d mi eltrovis, ke \u011di surna\u011dis flanken. Fine mi\nvidis rivereton, kaj per iom da laboro mi direktis mian floson en \u011din;\nkaj nun, la terbordo estis tiel proksima, ke mi sentis, ke mia remilo\ntu\u015das fundon.\nTie-\u0109i, mi preska\u016d perdis mian \u015dar\u011don, \u0109ar la terbordo estis sur\ndeklivo, tiel ke ne estis loko por surteri\u011di, escepte ke unu parto de\nla floso ku\u015das tiel alte, kaj la alia parto tiel malalte, ke \u0109iuj miaj\na\u0135oj defalus. Estis necese, ke mi atendu la enfluon. Tiam, kiam la\nmaro profundi\u011dis unu futo plu, mi pu\u015degis la floson sur ebenan pecon\nda tero, por \u011din alligi tie \u015dnurege, kaj enpu\u015dis miajn du remilojn en\nla sablon, unu \u0109iuflanke de la floso. Tiel mi \u011din lasis ku\u015di atendante\nla forfluon; tiam, \u011di kun \u011dia \u015dar\u011do sidis bone surteron.\nMi ekvidis, ke estas birdoj sur la insulo, kaj mi mortpafis unu. Mia\npafilpafo sendube estis la unua, kiu a\u016ddi\u011das tie post la kremondo;\n\u0109ar, \u011diasone tutaj birdaroj forflugis de \u0109iu parto de la arbaro kun\nla\u016dtaj krioj. Forme, la beko de tiu, kiun mi pafis, estis simile al\nakcipitro, sed ungegoj senlonge.\nMi nun revenis al mia floso por elflosigi miajn proviza\u0135ojn, kiu\nokupis min tagresta\u0135e. Mi ne sciis kion fari nokte, nek kie trovi\nta\u016dgan lokon, por meti miajn proviza\u0135ojn. Mi ne \u015datis ku\u015di\u011di sur la\nteron, pro timo je sova\u011daj bestoj, kiel anka\u016d je serpentoj, sed ne\nekzistis ka\u016dzon por timo, kiel mi poste eltrovis. La\u016deble, mi metis la\nkestojn kaj tabulojn \u0109irka\u016d mi, kiu faris ian budon, pornokte.\n\u0108ar estis multe da provizoj en la \u015dipo, kiu eble estos utilaj al mi,\nmi bone pensis ilin tuj surterigi; sciante, ke la unua ventego\ndisrompos la \u015dipruinon. Tial mi veturis al la \u015dipo kaj zorgis ke mi ne\nree tro\u015dar\u011du mian floson.\nUnue, mi ser\u0109is la ilkeston, kaj trovis kelke da sakoj da najloj,\nnajlegojn, segilojn, tran\u0109ilojn kaj tiajn objektojn, sed inter \u0109io,\nkion mi trovis, la plej bona estis \u015dtono per kiu mi povis akrigi miajn\nilojn. Estis tie du a\u016d tri botelegojn, kelke da sakegoj da pafa\u0135oj,\nkaj volvo da plumbo; sed mi ne havis la forton por suprenlevi la\nplumbo al la \u015dipflanko por ke mi \u011din \u015dar\u011du sur mian floson. Estis tie\nanka\u016d kelke da ekstraj veloj, kiujn mi terenportis.\nMi iom timis, ke sova\u011daj bestoj, se ne homoj, eble forportos miajn\nprovizojn; sed revenante, mi trovis ilin sendifektaj, kaj ke neniu\nestis veninta tien krom sova\u011dkato, kiu sidis sur unu kesto. Alvenante,\nmi celis mian pafilon sur \u011din, sed tio ne ekscitis \u011din, \u0109ar \u011di ne\nsciis tion, kiu estas pafilo. \u011ci nur man\u011dis pecon da sekigita kapra\u0135o,\nkaj foriris.\nHavante nun do \u015dar\u011dojn da a\u0135oj, mi faris tendon per la veloj de la\n\u015dipo por konservi ilin, kaj tran\u0109is la stangojn necesajn por \u011di en la\narbaro. Mi nun elprenis \u0109ion el la bareloj kaj kestoj, kaj amasigis la\nbarelojn \u0109irka\u016d la tendo por \u011din fortigi; kaj tion farinte, mi fermis\nla enirejon per tabuloj, ordigis liton (alportata de la \u015dipo) sur la\ntero, metis du pafilojn apud mia kapo, kaj unuafoje ku\u015di\u011dis en lito.\nMi dormis la tutan nokton, \u0109ar mi tre bezonis ripozon.\nMorga\u016dtage, mi mal\u011dojis en mia koro, \u0109ar mi sentis tian enuon esti\ndisigita de la cetera mondo! Mi ne deziregis laboron: sed mi ne povis\npripensi longan tempon pri mia mal\u011doja sorto, \u0109ar estis tro multe da\nlaboro por mi. \u0108iutage mi eliris al la \u015dipruino por alporti pli da\nobjektoj; kaj mi tiom alportis, kiom la floso povis elporti. Unu\ntagon, mi \u015dar\u011dis la floson per tro peza \u015dar\u011do, kiu ka\u016dzis unu flankon\nmallevi\u011di, tiel ke la enhavo el\u0135eti\u011dis en la maron; sed mi ne ploris\npro tio, \u0109ar la plej multa parto de la \u015dar\u011do estis \u015dnuregoj, kiuj ne\nestus tre utilaj al mi.\nTiamaniere, mi pasigis la dekdu tagojn, sur la insulo, kaj mi\nsurterigis \u0109ion, kiun unu paro de manoj eble povis levi; kvankam, se\nla maro estus trankvila, mi eble estus povinta surterigi la tutan\n\u015dip\u015dar\u011don, pecon post pecon.\nKiam mi na\u011dis la lastan fojon al la \u015dipruino, la vento blovis tiel\nseverege ke mi decidis iri la sekvantan fojon la\u016d forfluo. Mi trovis\niom da teo kaj kelke da ormoneroj; sed rilate al la oro, \u011di ridigis\nmin, kiam mi \u011din rigardis. \u201cHo senutila\u0135o!\u201d mi diris, \u201cvi ne povas\nutili ion al mi! Mi vin ne zorgas savi. Restu, kie vi ku\u015das, \u011dis la\n\u015dipo pereos; tiam, pereu vi kune kun \u011di.\u201d\nTamen, mi pripensis, ke estos egalbone por mi kunpreni \u011din; tial mi\n\u011din metis en pecon de velo, kaj \u011din \u0135etis sur la ferdekon, por ke mi\n\u011din metu sur la floson. Balda\u016d la vento blovis de la marbordo, tial\nestis necese, ke mi nun rapide rena\u011du; \u0109ar mi sciis, ke je la\nturni\u011do de la fluo mi trovus malfacila\u0135on por atingi la terbordon.\nSed, spite la ventego, mi sendan\u011dere atingis mian budon. Tagi\u011de, mi\nelpu\u015dis mian kapon el la budo okul\u0135etis almaren, kiam, jen, tie ne\nestis \u015dipo! La \u015dan\u011da\u0135o, kaj perdo de tia \u015dipamiko min tute mal\u011dojis.\nSed, mi \u011dojis pensi, ke mi surterigis \u0109ion, kio povas esti utila por\nmi. Mi nun devis ser\u0109i ion lokon kie mi povis fari mian lo\u011dejon.\nDuonvoje supren la monteto estis ebena\u0135eto, longa kvar a\u016d kvin\ndudekojn da futoj (24 a\u016d 30 metroj), kaj lar\u011da duoble, kaj \u0109ar \u011di\nhavis bonvidon almare, mi pensis, ke \u011di estos bonloko por mia domo.\nUnue, mi fosis fosa\u0135on \u0109irka\u016d spaco, kiu enhavis dekdu jardojn (10\nmetrojn), kaj en \u011din mi enbatis du vicojn da fostoj, tiel firme kiel\npalisoj kaj alte kvin kaj duonon da futoj. Mi firme kunligis la\nfostojn per pecetoj da \u015dnurego, kaj starigis sur ilin pintitajn\nbastonetojn, najlforme. Tio fari\u011dis tiel fortika palisaro, ke nek homo\nnek bestoj povis eniri.\nLa pordo de mia domo estis \u0109e la supro, kaj estis necese, ke mi\nsuprenrampu al \u011di per \u015dtupetaro, kiun mi enprenis kun mi, tiel ke\nneniu alia povu supreniri samamaniere. Apud la postflanko de la domo\nstaris alto \u015dtona\u0135o, en kiun mi faris kavernon, kaj metis la teron\nelfositan, \u0109irka\u016d mian domon, alte duonmetre. Mi devis eliri unufoje\n\u0109iutage por ser\u0109i nutra\u0135on. Unufoje, mi ekvidis kelke da kaproj, sed\nili estis tro timemaj kaj rapidpiedaj por permesi min alproksimi\u011di\nilin.\nFine, mi embuskis ilin apud iliaj nestoj. Min ekvidante en la valo,\nkaj ili sur alta\u0135o, ili forkuris timege, sed ili estante en la valo,\nkaj mi sur alta\u0135o, ili ne rigardis min. La kaprino, kiun mi mortpafis,\nhavas idon siaflanke, kaj kiam la kaprino falis, la ido staris \u011dis mi\ndorse forprenis la kaprinon kaj tiam, la ido kuris miaflanke. Mi\ndemetis la kaprinon kaj portis la idon hejmon por \u011din dorlotigi; sed\nestante tro juna por nutri\u011di mi devis \u011din mortigi.\nMi pensis unue, ke mi perdos \u0109ian tempkalkulon pro la manko de plumo\nkaj inko; tial, mi starigis altan foston krucforme, sur kiun mi\nentran\u0109is la jenajn vortojn: \u201cMi alvenis Junio 8a 1659.\u201d Mi \u0109iutage\nfaris unu entran\u0109on, kaj tion mi da\u016drigis fari \u011dis la lasta logo.\n\u011cisnune, mi ne diris vorton pri miaj kvar karuloj, kiuj estis du\nkatoj, hundo kaj birdo. Vi povis imagi, kiom mi \u015datis ilin, \u0109ar ili\nestis la solaj amikoj lasitaj al mi. Mi alportis la hundon kaj du\nkatojn de la \u015dipo. La hundo konstante alportis objektojn al mi, kaj\nper \u011dia bojo, bleketo, murmuro, kaj sporto, preska\u016d sed netute parolis\nkun mi.\nSe mi nur povus havi iun apud mi, por ke mi tiun malla\u016ddu, a\u016d tiu min\nmalla\u016ddu, kia plezuro tio estus! Alportinte inkon de la \u015dipo, mi\n\u0109iutage skribis skizon pro tio, kio okazis, ne tiom por la venontoj,\nkiuj eble \u011din legos (post kiam mi estos mortinta, kaj foririnta), kiom\npor liberigi min de miaj propraj pensoj, kaj fortiri min de la nuna\ntimo, kiu la tutan tagon restadis en mia koro \u011dis mia kapo doloras pro\n\u011dia pezo.\nMi estis malapud la vojkuro de \u015dipoj; kaj, ho! kia enuigo esti \u0135etita\nsur tiun-\u0109i solecejon sen iu por ami min, por ridigi min, por plorigi\nmin, por pripensi min. Estis enuige vagi, tagon post tagon, de la\narbaro al la marbordo, kaj de la marbordo reen al la arbaro, kaj dume\n\u0109iam okupi min per miaj propraj pensoj.\nTiom, pri la mal\u011doja \u015dajno de mia stato; sed simile al la plimulto da\naferoj \u011di havis luman flankon tiel same kiel malluman. \u0108ar tie-\u0109i mi\nestis sendan\u011dere sur tero, kontra\u016de la ceteraj de la \u015dipanaro estis\nperdintaj. Nu, pripensis mi, Dio, kiu regas mian la sorton, kaj\nkondukas min per Sia mano, nun povas min savi de tiu-\u0109i stato, a\u016d\nalsendi iun por apudesti \u0109e mi. Mi ja estas \u0135etita sur krudan kaj\ndezertan parton de la terglobo, sed ne trovi\u011das sur \u011di sova\u011daj bestoj\npor mortigi a\u016d vundi min. Dio sendis la \u015dipon tiel apud mi, ke mi\npovis havigi \u0109ion, kion mi bezonos por la resta\u0135o de miaj tagoj. Estu\nla vivo, kia \u011di estos, tre multe estas, pro kio mi devas danki al Dio.\nKaj mi balda\u016d forlasis \u0109iujn mal\u011dojajn pensojn, kaj e\u0109 ne plu rigardis\npro vel\u015dipo.\nMiaj poseda\u0135oj el la \u015dipruino jam ku\u015dis en la kaverno dek monatojn,\nkaj estas nun tempo por ordigi ilin, \u0109ar ili plenigis la tutan spacon,\nkaj ne lasis al mi ion enlo\u011dejon; tial mi pligrandigis mian\nkaverneton, elfosante \u011din pli malanta\u016den en la sablan \u015dtonegon. Poste\nmi etendis \u011dian enirejon \u011dis la palisaro, kaj tiamaniere faris\npostvojon al mia domo. Tion farinte, mi fiksis bretaron \u0109iuflanke, por\nenteni miajn poseda\u0135ojn, kio ka\u016dzis mian kavernon prezenti \u015dajnon\nkvaza\u016d magazeno plena je komerca\u0135oj. Por fabriki la bretarojn mi\ndehakis arbon, kaj ellaboris \u011din per segilo, hakilo, rabotilo, kaj\nkelke de aliaj iloj.\nTiam mi faris se\u011don kaj skribtablon. Mi frumatene levi\u011dis kaj laboris\n\u011dis tagmezo. Man\u011dinte mian man\u011don, mi foriris kun mia pafilo.\nReveninte, mi laboris \u011dis la suno mallevi\u011dis, kaj fine mi min ku\u015digis.\nMi okupis min pli ol semajno aliformante kaj pligrandante mian\nkavernon, sed mi \u011din faris multe tro grande; \u0109ar, iomtempe, la tero\ndefalis de la tegmento kaj se mi enestus, kiam tio okazis, mi estus\nperdinta mian vivon. Mi nun devis starigi fostojn en mia kaverno kun\ntabuloj trans iliaj suproj farante tegmenton el ligno.\nIam foririnte kun mia pafilo, mi mortpafis sova\u011dkaton, el kies felo mi\nfaris \u0109apon; kaj mi trovis kelke da birdoj el la gento kolomba, kiuj\nfaris siajn nestojn en la fendetoj de la \u015dtonegoj.\nMi devis ku\u015di\u011di malhelige \u011dis mi faris lampon, per kaprograso metita\nen argilujon, kaj peceto da kanabo kiel me\u0109o, farante bonan lumon.\nTrovinte uzon por la sako enhavinta la nutra\u0135on kortbirdaran sur\u015dipe,\nmi el\u0135etis la \u015delojn. Estis \u011duste kiam falas la pluvegoj, kaj\nkelkmonate, elkreskis trunketoj da rizo, tritiko kaj sekalo. Tempe, la\ngreno maturi\u011dis kaj mi \u011din konservis kaj zorge semis \u0109iujare; sed mi\nne povis fanfaroni pri rikolto de tritiko \u011dis post tri jaroj, kiel\nbalda\u016d estos montrata.\nNeson\u011dita afero nun okazis sur la insulo kiu timegis min. Jen, la tero\ntremegadis, kiu de\u0135etis teron de la \u015dtona\u0135o kun la\u016dta krako \u2014 ree\nokazis tremo \u2014 kaj nun tero defalis de la tegmento de mia kaverno. La\nmaro ne vidi\u011dis kiel anta\u016de, \u0109ar la tremoj tie estis tiel fortegaj\nkiel sur la tero. La movado de la tero malsanigis min, kaj estis bruo\nkaj kriego \u0109irka\u016d mi.\nTriafoje tia tremo okazis; kaj kiam \u011di pasi\u011dis, mi sidis senmove sur\nla tero nesciante kion fari. Tiam la nuboj malklari\u011dis, la vento\nlevi\u011dis, arboj elradiki\u011dis, la maro \u015da\u016dmamasi\u011dis, kaj granda parto de\nla insulo ruini\u011dis per la ventego. Mi pensis, ke la mondo fini\u011das.\nTrihore, \u0109io trankvili\u011dis, sed pluvo falis tiun tutan nokton kaj\ngrandan parton de la sekvanta tago. Kvankam tute lacigita, mi nun\ndevis movi miajn a\u0135ojn al sendan\u011dera loko.\nMi sciis, ke mi ja bezonos ilojn, kaj estos necese, ke mi akrigu ilin\nsur la \u015dtono, \u0109ar ili estis malakraj kaj eluzitaj. Sed, \u0109ar du manoj\nestas necesaj por surteni la ilon, mi ne povis turni la \u015dtonon; tial\nmi faris radon per kiu mi povis \u011din turni piede. Tio ne estis facila\ntasko, sed fine mi elfarigis \u011din.\nKelkatage, la pluvo faladis kaj malvarma tremfrosto min venkis; balda\u016d\nmi malsani\u011dis. Mi havis dolorojn en mia kapo, nokte mi ne povis dormi,\nkaj miaj pensoj estis malkvietaj kaj strangaj. Jen mi ektremis pro\nmalvarmo, kaj jen pro varmego kun svensvetoj, po seshore. Malsanante,\nmi devis foriri kun mia pafilo por havigi nutra\u0135on. Mi mortpafis\nkapron, sed estis malfacila tasko \u011din alporti domon, kaj pli multe,\n\u011din kuiri.\nMi pasis la sekvantan tagon lite, kaj sentis duonmorte pro soifo; ja,\nmi estis tro malforta por levi\u011di, por trinki. Mi ku\u015dis kaj ploris,\ntrahore kriis infane: \u201cSinjoro, rigardu min! Sinjoro, rigardu min!\u201d\nFine, la atako fini\u011dis, kaj mi ekdormis kaj ne veki\u011dis \u011dis tagi\u011do. Mi\nson\u011dis, ke mi ku\u015das sur la tero, kaj ke mi ekvidas viron;\nmalsuprenirante de granda nigra nubo flamlume. Kiam li staris surtere,\n\u011di ektremis same kiel anta\u016d kelke da tagoj; kaj tuta mondo \u015dajnas\nplenfajre. Li alproksimi\u011dis kaj diris al mi. \u201c\u0108ar mi ekvidas, ke en\n\u0109iuj-\u0109i mal\u011dojoj vi ne pre\u011dis, vi devis morti.\u201d Tiam mi veki\u011dis, kaj\neltrovis, ke \u011di estis son\u011do. Malforta kaj maltrankvila, mi timis la\ntutan tagon, ke mia atako reokazos.\nTro malsana por foriri kun mia pafilo, mi sidis sur la marbordo por\nmediti, kaj miaj pensoj kuris jene: \u201cKio estas la maro, kio estas\n\u0109irka\u016d mi? Ne povis esti dubo, ke la mano, kiu \u011din kreis, anka\u016d kreis\nla aeron, la teron, la \u0109ielon. Kaj kiu estas tiu? Estas Dio, kiu\nfaris \u0109ion. Nu, tial, se Dio faris \u0109ion, devis esti Li, kiu regas\n\u0109ion; kaj se tiel, nenio en la tuta vico da Liaj fara\u0135oj povas okazi,\npri kiuj Li ne scias. Tial Dio scias kiel malsana kaj mal\u011doja mi\nestas, kaj Li volas, ke mi estu tie-\u0109i. Kial? Dio.\nTiam ia vo\u0109o \u015dajne diris: \u201c\u0108u vi demandis, kial Dio faras tion al vi?\nDemandu, kial vi ne estis mortpafita de la Ma\u016droj, kiuj sur\u015dipi\u011dis,\nkaj prenis la vivon de viaj kunuloj. Demandu, kial vi ne estis\ndis\u015dirita de la sova\u011daj bestoj \u0109e la marbordo. Demandu, kial vi ne\nmallevi\u011dis en la profundan maron kune kun la ceteraj \u015dipanoj, anstata\u016d\nol bone atingi la insulon.\nTiam profundo dormo venkis min, kaj veki\u011dante estis sendube la\ntriahoro morga\u016dtage, la\u016d la sunradioj; ja, eble estis pli malfrua tago\n\u0109ar mi opinias, ke tiu certe estis la tago, kiun mi ne markis sur mia\nfosto, \u0109ar, poste, mi eltrovis mankon da unu entran\u0109o.\nMi nun prenis de mia magazeno la Libron de la Dia Vorto, kiun mi jam\nalportis el la \u015dipruino kaj \u011disnune mi ne legis e\u0109 unu pa\u011don. Miaj\nokuloj falis sur kvar vortojn, \u015dajnante enmetite por mia tiama\nkonsolo; tiel bone ili fortigis miajn esperojn, kaj tu\u015dis la veran\nfonton de mia timo. Estis la jenaj: \u201cMi vi ne forlasos.\u201d Ili lo\u011das en\nmia koro \u011disnune. Mi mallevis la libron por pre\u011di. Mia krio estis,\n\u201cDio mia, min helpu ami kaj lerni Viajn vojojn.\u201d Estis la unua fojo\nkiam mi sentis ke Dio estas proksima kaj a\u016ddas min, Koncerne mia enua\nvivo, \u011di ne estis pripensinda; \u0109ar nun nova forto eniris en min, kaj\n\u015dan\u011digis miajn \u0109agrenojn kaj \u011dojojn.\nParto III\nMi jam estis dekdu monatojn sur la insulo, kaj mi pripensis, ke estas\ntempo por mi \u011din esplori por ke mi traser\u0109u \u011diajn arboretojn, fontojn,\nkaj riveretojn. Tial mi ekiris kaj returnante alportis kun mi limetojn\n(malacidajn citronojn) kaj bonegajn vinberojn, grandajn kaj maturajn.\nMi pendigis la vinberojn en la sunbrilo, por ke ili seki\u011du, kaj post\nkelke da tagoj, mi alportis ilin domon, por estonta provizo. La\nvaleto, sur kies deklivoj ili kreskis, estas malvarmeta kaj verda, kaj\ntra \u011di kuras klara rivereto, kiu donas al la loko tian grandan \u0109armon,\nke mi deziris lo\u011di tie.\nSed ne estas elvido sur la maron de tiu-\u0109i valeto; kontra\u016de, miaflanke\nde la insulo \u015dipoj ne povus alproksimi\u011di, kiujn mi ne vidus de mia\ndomo; tamen, la verdaj molaj deklivoj \u015dajnis tiel dol\u0109aj kaj fre\u015daj,\nke mi tie pasigis multe da mia tempo.\nLa unua el la tri jaroj, dum kiuj mi kulturis grenon, mi \u011din dissemis\ntro malfrue; la dua jaro, \u011di difekti\u011dis pro la senpluveco; sed la tria\njaro, la greno bone elkreskis.\nMi eltrovis, ke la leporoj nokte kaj tage lo\u011dis inter \u011di, kontra\u016d kio\nestas nenia helpo krom planti densan plektbarilon \u0109irka\u016d \u011di; kaj tion\nfari, okupis min pli ol tri semajnojn. Mi mortpafis la leporojn tage,\nkaj mallumi\u011de, \u0109ene mi alligis la hundon al la pordego, por boji la\ntutan nokton.\nTempete, la greno elkreskis, kaj fine maturi\u011dis; sed, same kiel anta\u016de\nla leporoj difektis \u011din en la trunketoj, nun la birdoj man\u011dis \u011din en\nla spikoj. Je mia pafilbruo, aroj da ili suprenflugis; kaj mi\nkomprenis, ke nenia greno estus lasota; tial mi decidis algardi nokte\nkaj tage. Mi ka\u015di\u011dis apud la plektbarilo kaj povis vidi, ke la birdoj\nsidas sur la arboj, kaj observas, poste malsupreniras unu post alia,\nkiel anta\u016de.\nNun \u0109iu grajnero da tritiko \u015dajnis kvaza\u016d bulketo da pano. Sed por\nforigi tiujn-\u0109i birdojn, mia proceduro estis la jena: mi mortpafis\ntri, kaj pendigis ilin kiel \u015dtelistojn por timigi \u0109iujn, kiuj venos\npro la greno; kaj de tiam, tiel longe kiel la mortigitoj pendis tie,\nne alproksimi\u011dis birdo. Post kiam la greno maturi\u011dis, mi faris\nfal\u0109ilon el glavo el la \u015dipo, kaj havigis mian rikolton.\nMalmulto el ni pripensas la koston je kiu bulko estas farata.\nKompreneble ne trovi\u011dis tie-\u0109i plugilo por turni la teron, nek fosilo\npor \u011din fosi; tial mi faris unu el ligno; sed tiu balda\u016d eluziti\u011dis\nkaj pro manko de rastilo mi uzis bran\u0109on de arbo. Alportinte hejmen la\ngrenon, mi devas dra\u015di, senrubigi kaj konservi \u011din. Nun mi bezonas\nmuelilon por mueli \u011din, kribrilon por kribri \u011din, kaj fermentilon por\nfermenti \u011din, por fari panon el \u011di.\nKvankam mi ne havis ilojn, mi faris panon, kaj neniu povas diri, ke mi\n\u011din ne perlaboris per la \u015dvito de mia frunto. Kiam la pluvo endomadis\nmin, mi havis sportegon instruante mian karulan birdon Polo kiel\nparoli; sed ho! tiel muta estis \u0109io \u0109irka\u016d mi, ke mia propra vo\u0109o\nektremigis min.\nNun mi bezonas havigi botelegojn, potojn, kaj telerojn; sed mi ne\nsciis, kiel ilin fari. Fine, mi eliris por ser\u0109i argilon, kaj tion\ntrovis preska\u016d mejlo de mia domo; ja estis ridinda rigardi la\nstrangajn formojn, kiujn mi faris el \u011di. \u0108ar, kelkaj el miaj botelegoj\nkaj potoj estis tro malfortikaj por elporti sian propran pezon, kaj\nili disfalis eksteren kaj internen, \u0109iumaniere; kaj aliaj, metitaj en\nla sunradiojn por baki\u011di, fendi\u011dis pro la varmego de la radioj. Vi\npovas diveni, kia estis mia \u011dojo, kiam mi fine faris poton, kiu\neltenis la varmegecon fajran, tiel ke mi povis boli viandon por\nbuljono.\nNun mi devas fari kribrilon por senrubigi la grenon. Mi ne povas uzi\nkaprajn harojn, \u0109ar mi povas nek plekti nek \u015dpini, tial dujare mi\nkontentigis min per maldika peco da \u015dtofo, alportita de la \u015dipo. Sed,\npisti la grenon \u015dtone, mi trovis esti la plej malfacila laboro el\n\u0109iuj. Por baki la panon, mi bruligis lignon \u011dis cindroj, kiujn mi tuj\nmetis sur la fajrujon por \u011din varmegigi, kaj poste la bulkojn por baki\nkaj tiamaniere, faris panon.\nNun mi konsideras la \u015dipboaton kiu ku\u015das sur la sabla alta\u0135o, kien \u011di\npu\u015de\u011dis per la sama ventego, kiu min anka\u016d \u0135etis surteron. La boato\nku\u015dis havante la kilon \u0109ielen, tiel ke mi devis fosi la sablon for de\n\u011di, kaj \u011din turni stangpere. Tion farinte, mi trovis vane, ne havante\nla forton por \u011din surmarigi. Tial \u0109io, kion mi povas fari, estis\nkonstrui malpli grandan boaton el ia arbo; kaj mi eltrovis unu, kiu\n\u011duste ta\u016dgas por tiun fari, kaj kiu kreskis ne malproksime de la\nmarbordo; sed simile al la \u015dipboaton, tiun mi ne povis movi.\nKion fari? Mi nun ebenigis kaj glatigis la tutspacon de la boato \u011dis\nla maro, por ke la boato gliti\u011du maren; sed tiu plano ne sukcesis; mi\ndecidis provi alian planon; nome, elfosi fosa\u0135on por konduki la maron\nal la boato. Tamen, por tion fari, estus necese, ke mi fosu tian\ngrandan profundon, ke la laboro okupus unu viron kelke da jaroj. Kaj\ntro malfrue mi trovis, ne estas sa\u011de ellabori projekton anta\u016d ol mi\nunue pripensis la penadon kaj koston.\n\u201cNu do,\u201d mi pensis, \u201cmi devas forlasi la boaton, kaj tial miajn tutajn\nesperojn pri lasi tiun-\u0109i insulon. Sed estas dece, ke mi anka\u016d\npripensu jene: Mi estas sinjoro de la tuta insulo, efektive re\u011do. Mi\nhavas lignon per kiu mi povas konstrui \u015diparon, kaj vinberojn, se ne\ngrenon, por \u011din \u015dar\u011di, kvankam mia tuta ri\u0109eco estas nur kelke da\normoneroj.\u201d Por ili mi ne havas ian uzon, kaj volonte estus donanta\nilin por kvaronbu\u015delo da pizoj kaj iom da inko; la lastnomitan mi\npleje bezonis. Sed estas plej bone pripensi pli multe pri tio, kion mi\nhavas, ol pri tio, kion mi ne havas.\nDenove, mi provas konstrui boaton, sed mi nun decidis, ke \u011di havu\nmaston; \u0109ar \u015dipveloj estos tre utilaj. Mi faris ferdekon je la anta\u016da\nkaj je la posta parto por deteni la maran \u015da\u016dmon, keston por nutra\u0135o,\nkaj por mia pafilo apogilon kun kovrilo, por \u011din \u015dirmi kontra\u016d la\nmalsekeco. Pli bone ol \u0109io mi povis surmarigi tiun-\u0109i boaton.\nUnue, mi krozadis sur rivereto, sed balda\u016d mi kura\u011di\u011dis, kaj veturis\n\u0109irka\u016d mia insulo. Mi kunprenis panon, kukojn, poton da rizo, iom da\nrumo, duonkapron, du surtutojn, unu por ku\u015dejo, la alia por nokt\u015dirmo.\nMi ekveturis je la sesa jaro de mia regado. Orientflanke de la insulo\ntrovi\u011dis granda pinto \u015dtonega, kiu staris du mejlojn de la terbordo,\nkaj sabla\u0135o etendis sin duonmejle de la \u015dtonegoj terborden. Por\n\u0109irka\u016diri tiun pinton mi devis veturi malproksimen enmaron, kaj tie mi\npreska\u016d perdis mian vivon.\nTamen, mi fine revenis hejmon. Survoje tien tute lacigita pro la\nlaboroj boataj, mi ku\u015di\u011dis en ombron por ripozigi mian korpon, kaj\ndormadis. Sed ju\u011du, se eble, kiel mi ektremis, kiam vo\u0109o min vekas de\nmia dormo, kaj trifoje elparolas mian nomon! Vo\u0109o en tiu-\u0109i sova\u011da\nloko! Ja vokante min per mia propra nomo! Tiam diris la vo\u0109o, \u201cKie vi\nestas? Kie vi estis? Kiel vi venis tien-\u0109i?\u201d Balda\u016d mi tute komprenis;\n\u0109ar, sur la plektbarilo, sidas Polo, parolante vortojn jam lernitajn.\nMi nun ser\u0109is kaprojn, kaj ordigis kaptilojn por ili, kun rizo por\nalloga\u0135o. Mi ordigis la kaptilojn nokte, kaj eltrovis, ke ili restadis\nordigitaj, sed la alloga\u0135o fori\u011dis. Tial mi elpensis novan manieron\npor kapti ilin, farante puton kaj kovrante \u011din per bastonoj kaj herbo\npor \u011din ka\u015di; tiamaniere mi kaptis maljunan kapron kaj kelke da\nkapridoj. Sed la maljuna kapro estis multe tro furioza por mi, tial mi\n\u011din liberigis.\nMi alportis la kapridojn hejmen, kaj malsatigis ilin longatempe, \u011dis\nfine, ili man\u011dis el mia mano, kaj tute malsova\u011di\u011dis. Mi ilin enfermis\nen parko, en kiu trovi\u011dis arboj por \u015dirmi ilin kontra\u016d la suno. Unue,\nmia parko havis tri mejlojn \u0109irka\u016de; sed mi pripensis, ke en tia\ngranda spaco, la kapridoj tiom sova\u011di\u011dos, kvaza\u016d ili vagus tra la tuta\nvalo, kaj malpli da spaco estus pli bone; tial plektbarilon mi faris\nkaj tiun planti okupis min tri monatojn.\nMan\u011dante, mia hundo sidis kun mi, kaj sur skabeloj unu kato \u0109iuflanke,\ndum Polo paroladis al ni. Nun, unu vorton a\u016d du rilate al la vesta\u0135o,\nen kiu mi voja\u011dis \u0109irka\u016d la insulo. Mi multe pensis, kiel mia vesta\u0135o\nestus ridinda en la stratoj de mia naskurbo. Mi portis kaprofelan\nal\u0109apon havante pendantan vizieron por deteni la sunbrilon kaj la\npluvon de mia kolo, kaprofelan veston kies rando tu\u015dis miajn koksojn,\nkaj kaprofelon sur miaj kruroj, partojn da felo \u0109irka\u016d miaj tibioj,\nsed ne \u015duojn. El sama materialo mi havis \u0109irka\u016d mia talio lar\u011dan\nzonon, kiun mi povis alligi per du ledrimenoj, kaj de \u011di \u0109e mia\ndekstra flanko pendis segilo kaj hakilo, kaj maldekstre, saketo de\npafa\u0135oj. Mia barbo ne tran\u0109i\u011dis de kiam mi alvenis. Sed sufi\u0109e, pri\nmia \u015dajno, \u0109ar \u0109eestis neniu por min vidi.\nMi balda\u016d estis vidonta strangan vida\u0135on, kiu estis \u015dan\u011donta mian\ntutan vivon sur la insulo.\nUnu tagmezon, promenante sur la marbordo \u0109e parto al mi nekonata, kion\njen vidi sur la sablo krom la impreson de homa piedo! Mi sentis,\nkvaza\u016d tenate per katalepsio, kaj ne povis movi\u011di de la loko.\nBalda\u016d mi ekrigardis \u0109irka\u016d mi, sed ne estas videbla iu. Kion signifas\ntio? Mi iris tri-a\u016d-kvarfoje por \u011din rigardi. Jen estas \u2014 la impreso\nde piedo homa; piedfingroj, kalkano, kaj \u0109iuj partoj de la piedo. Kiel\npovis \u011di veni tien?\nMia kapo kvaza\u016d na\u011dis pro timo; kaj lasante la lokon, mi iris du a\u016d\ntri pa\u015dojn, rigardis, kaj plu, same. Mi timemi\u011dis je la \u015dtipo de\nmaljuna arbo, kaj kuris domon, kvaza\u016d por mia vivo. Kiamaniere povis\nio homforma alveni al tiu-\u0109i marbordo sen mia scio? Kie estas la \u015dipo,\nkiu alkondukis tion? Tiam, malpreciza teruro kaptis mian animon; ke,\neble ia homo a\u016d aro da homoj eltrovis min; kaj ke eble intencas\nmortigi min, a\u016d rabi \u0109ion, kion mi havas.\nKia stranga afero estas la vivo homa! Unu tagon ni amas tion, kion ni\nmalamas la sekvantan tagon. Unu tagon, ni ser\u0109as tion, kion ni evitas\nla sekvantan tagon. Unu tagon, ni deziras tion, kion ni timas la\nsekvantan tagon. Tiamaniere ni vivadas. Jen, de kiam mi estis \u0135etita\nsur tiun-\u0109i insulon, la granda ka\u016dzo de mal\u011dojo estis, ke mi tiel\nestis disigita de la ceteraj de mia raso. Kial do, povis ka\u016dzi al mi\nmal\u011dojon la penso, ke eble homo estas apud mi? Ja, kial nura ekvido de\nimpreso de homa piedo min ektremigas pro timo? \u015cajnas plej strange,\ntamen ne pli strange ol vere.\nUnufoje, mi pensis, ke eble la impreso devenas de mia propra piedo,\nkiam la ventego min unue \u0135etis sur tiun-\u0109i bordon. \u0108u estas eble, ke\nmi venis tiun-\u0109i vojon de la \u015dipo? Se fakte montri\u011dus, ke la impreso\nestas miapiede; mi sentus simile al knabo, kiu rakontas pri fantomo,\nkaj sentas pli da timo je sia propra rakonto ol tiuj, kiujn li\nintencas timigi.\nTritage, timo min endomadis, \u011dis la manko de nutra\u0135o min forpelis.\nFine, mi sufi\u0109e kura\u011di\u011dis por iri al la marbordo, por ke mi rerigardu\nla impreson piedan, por eltrovi, \u0109u \u011di estas same kiel mia propra. Mi\neltrovis, ke \u011di estas multe pli malgranda. Tial estis klare, ke\ntrovi\u011das homoj sur la insulo. \u011custe tiam, mia bona gardhundo falis\nsenviva \u0109e miaj piedoj. Li estis maljuna kaj lacigita, kaj tiel mi\nperdis mian plej bonan gardanton kaj amikon. Unu tagon, irante de la\nmonteto al la marbordo, trovi\u011das vida\u0135o korna\u016dza, loko kovrita per\nostoj homaj. Estas tie rondspaco elfosita el la tero, kie estis farita\nfajro, kaj tien-\u0109i estas venintaj kelke da homoj por festeni. Vidinte\ntiun-\u0109i vida\u0135on, mi ne sciis, kiel agi; mi endomadis kaj apena\u016d eliris\nescepte por melki mian kaprinaron.\nEstis nun pli grave al mi senti sendan\u011dere, ol esti bone nutrita; kaj\nmi ne kura\u011dis enbati najlon, a\u016d haki \u015dtipon lignan, timante ke tia\nsono estu a\u016ddata, multe malpli pafi pafon. Pri mia pano kaj viando, mi\nilin bakis nokte, kiam neniu povas vidi la fumon. Sed mi balda\u016d trovis\nmanieron bruligi lignon sub torfkovrilo, kio \u011din lignokarbigis; kaj\ntio mi povis uzi tage, \u0109ar \u011di ne faris fumon.\nEn la arbaro, kien mi iris por havigi la bastonojn por mia fajro, mi\neltrovis kavernon tiel lar\u011dan, ke mi povis stari en \u011di; sed mi pli\nrapidi\u011dis eliri ol eniri; \u0109ar du grandaj okuloj, tiel lumaj kiel\nsteloj, forbrilis kun sova\u011da brilego. Mi prenis tor\u0109on kaj eniris por\neltrovi, kies estas la okuloj, kaj trovis ke ne estas ia ka\u016dzo por\ntimo; \u0109ar la okuloj apartenas al maljuna griza kapro, kiu iris tien\npor morti. Mi \u011din ekpu\u015dis, kaj provis elirigi \u011din, sed \u011di ne povis\nlevi\u011di de la tero, kie \u011di ku\u015das; tial mi \u011din lasis tie por morti, \u0109ar\nmi ne povis savi \u011dian vivon.\nMi eltrovis, ke la lar\u011deco de la kaverno estas 3.6 metroj, sed parto\nde \u011di, \u0109e la plej posta parto estas tiel malalta, ke mi devis rampi\nsur miaj manoj kaj piedoj por eniri. Kiom \u011dia longeco estas mi ne\npovas diri, \u0109ar mia lumo estingi\u011dis, kaj mi devis \u0109esigi mian\nser\u0109adon. Morga\u016dtage, mi iris al la kaverno kun lumegoj kaprograsaj;\nkaj atinginte la fini\u011don, mi eltrovis, ke la tegmento alti\u011das 12\nmetrojn a\u016d plu.\nKiam miaj lumoj lumi\u011dis la murojn kaj la tegmenton de la kaverno,\ntrovi\u011dis vida\u0135o, kies \u0109armojn, lingvo tute ne povas esprimi; \u0109ar la\nmuroj ekbrilis kvaza\u016d steloj. Kio ka\u016dzis ke la \u015dtonegoj ekbrilu, mi ne\npovis diri: tie eble estas \u011demaj, bril\u015dtonoj, a\u016d oro. Sed, kio ajn, la\nkaverno estis ri\u0109a mino por mi; \u0109ar, kiam ajn, mi sentis malgaja kaj\nmal\u011doja, la brilvida\u0135o lumigis la okulojn de mia animo, kaj \u011din\nplenigis per \u011dojo.\n\u0108iuj-\u0109i jaroj pasi\u011dis sen ia nova vida\u0135o por ravigi miajn okulojn, \u011dis\ntiu vida\u0135o subite ekvidi\u011dis anta\u016d mi. Mi sentis kvaza\u016d mi volas pasigi\ntie-\u0109i la resta\u0135on de mia vivo kaj vivfine, ku\u015di\u011di en tiu-\u0109i kaverno\npor morti, same kiel la granda\u011da kapro.\nIrante hejmon, mi ekvidis iom da fumo, devenante el fajro ne pli ol du\nmejlojn malproksime. De nun, mi perdis mian kvietecon. Tage kaj nokte\ntimo min \u0109agrenis, ke la homoj, farintaj tiun fajron, mi eltrovos. Mi\nhejmiris, supreniris la \u015dtupetaron; sed unue, mi ka\u016dzis, ke \u0109io \u0109irka\u016d\nmi vidi\u011du sova\u011da. Mi \u015dar\u011dis mian pafilon, kaj pripensis, ke estus plej\nbone por mi resti dome kaj ka\u015di.\nSed, tion mi ne povis toleri longe. Mi ne havis spionon por elsendi,\nkaj \u0109io, kion mi povis fari, estis supreniri la monteton kaj observi.\nFine, tra mia vidilo mi povis vidi grupon da sova\u011duloj dancante \u0109irka\u016d\nfajro. Tiel balda\u016d kiel ili foriris, mi prenis du pafilojn, pendigis\nglavon miaflanke kaj rapide ekiris al la supro monteta por rehavi\nklaran vidon.\nTiufoje, mi decidis iri al la homoj, sed mi ne intencas mortigi ilin,\n\u0109ar mi sentis, ke estus malprave tion fari. Kun tia \u015dar\u011do da armiloj\nmi postulis du horojn por atingi la lokon. Alveninte, trovi\u011das neniu;\nsed mi vidis la homoj enmare en kvar boatoj.\nMarborde, trovi\u011dis la fara\u0135oj de tiuj-\u0109i viroj. La signoj de ilia\nfesteno korna\u016dzigis min, kaj mi fermis miajn okulojn. Kiam ajn mi iris\ntiuflanke de la insulo pro nutra\u0135o, mi ne kura\u011dis pafi, timante ke\nrestu kelkaj el la homoj, kiuj povu \u011din a\u016ddi, kaj tiamaniere min\neltrovu. Tiustato da\u016dris unu jaron kaj tri monatojn, kaj intertempe mi\nvidis neniun.\nParto IV\nJe la dekdua de Majo, granda ventego blovis tutatage kaj tutanokte.\n\u0108ar estis mallume, mi sidis en mia domo, kaj ventegmeze mi a\u016ddis\npafilpafon. Mi opiniis, ke \u011di certe estas de \u015dipo \u0135etita surteron per\nventego. Tial mi bruligis lignon sur la supro monteta, por ke, tiuj en\nla \u015dipo, se \u015dipo \u011di estas, scii\u011du, ke iu estas tie-\u0109i por helpi ilin.\nMi poste a\u016ddis du pafojn plu. Post kiam lumi\u011dis, mi iris sudflankon de\nla insulo, kaj tie ku\u015das ruino de \u015dipo, tiunokte \u0135etita sur la\n\u015dtonegojn. \u011ci ku\u015dis tro malproksime por mi vidi, \u0109u restas homoj sur\n\u011di.\nVortoj ne povas diri, kiom mi sopiris, ke mi alportu almena\u016d unu el la\n\u015dipanaro surtere! Tiel forta estis mia deziro savi la vivon de tiuj\nsur la \u015dipo, ke mi volonte estus doninta mian propran vivon por tion\nfari. Trovi\u011das en la koro kelkaj inklinoj, kiuj ekscititaj per espero\ntiel forte pu\u015das la animon, ke perdi ian okazon por atingi la\nesperatan celon, \u015dajnas tiun frenezigi; kaj tiel okazis \u0109e mi.\nNun, mi pensis, estas la okazo por uzi mian boaton; tiel mi \u011din\nekordigis. Mi kunprenis iom da rumo (de kiu mi ankora\u016d havis multe),\nsekigitaj vinberoj, sakon da rizo, iom da lakto kaj froma\u011do, kaj poste\nekveturis enmare. Mi pense ektimis pri la dan\u011dero, en kiu mi min\nanta\u016de trovis sur la samaj \u015dtonegoj; sed ne tute korperdis, kvankam\nmi sciis, ke, \u0109ar mia boato estas malgranda, \u0109io estus perdata, se\nventego ekblovus. Balda\u016d mi trovis, ke estas necese por mi returni\nsurteron \u011dis la fluo turni\u011dos kaj la forfluo komencos.\nMi decidis eliri la sekvantan tagon kun la forfluo, tial tiunokte mi\ndormis en mia boato. Tagi\u011de, mi ekveturis enmaron kaj netute duhore,\nmi atingis la \u015dipruinon. Jen, kia vida\u0135o! La \u015dipo estis \u0135etita sur la\n\u015dtonegojn. La posta parto estis rompita per la ondoforto, la mastoj\nforna\u011digitaj, \u015dnuregoj kaj \u0109enoj dis\u0135etitaj ferdeke, kaj \u0109io envolvita\nen malgajo. Kiam mi atingis la \u015dipruinon, hundo alna\u011dis al mi,\nblekante kaj ploretante. Mi prenis la hundon en la boaton; kiam mi\ndonis al \u011di iom da pano, \u011di man\u011dis la panon kvaza\u016d lupo, kaj pri\ntrinkado \u011di eble krevus, se mi estus permesinta, ke \u011di pleni\u011du.\nMi iris al la \u0109ambro de la kuiristo, kie mi trovis du virojn\nmalvivajn. La lango estas muta, la orelo surda, la okulo fermata, kaj\nla lipo rigida; la mal\u011doja rakonto estis dirata, \u0109ar \u0109iu tenis sian\nbrakon \u0109irka\u016d la kolo de la amiko, kaj tiamaniere ili atendis la\nmorton. Kiom \u015dan\u011di\u011dis la sceno, tiam, tute sova\u011da pro la batoj ondaj\nkaj la mu\u011dado venta! Nun, \u0109io estis trankvila \u2014 la morto elfaris sian\ncelon, kaj \u0109iuj ricevis \u011dian baton, escepte la hundo, kiu estis la\nsola kreita\u0135o, kiu postvivis.\nMi divenis, ke la \u015dipo venis de Hispanujo, kaj mi trovis sur \u011di multe\nda oro. Mi metis kelke da kestoj surboaton, sed ne atendis por\neltrovi, kion ili enhavas, kaj kun ili kaj tri bareloj da rumo, mi\nrevenis.\nHejme, mi trovis \u0109ion same tiel, kiel mi \u011din lasis \u2014 miaj kaproj, la\nkatoj, kaj la birdo. La vida\u0135o en la \u0109ambro de la kuiristo restadis\ntage kaj nokte en mia animo, kaj por reforti min, mi trinkis iom da\nrumo. Tiam mi ekhejmportis mian \u015dar\u011don de la marbordo, kie mi anta\u016de\n\u011din lasis. En la kestoj trovi\u011dis du grandaj sakoj da oro, kaj kelke da\nfanda\u0135oj oraj; apud ili trovi\u011dis tri boteletoj kaj tri sakoj da\npafa\u0135o, kiuj estas granda akiro.\nDe nun \u011dis dujare, \u0109io prosperis al mi; sed ne estis da\u016dronta.\nStarante unu tagon sur monteto, mi ekvidis ses boatojn, marborde. Kion\neble signifas tio? Kie estas la viroj, kiuj ilin alkondukis? Kaj pro\nkiu ka\u016dzo ili alvenis? Mi ekvidis per mia vidilo, ke almena\u016d tridek\ntrovi\u011das orientflanke de la insulo. Ili havis viandon sur la fajro,\n\u0109irka\u016d kiu, mi vidis, ili dancadis. Poste ili prenis viron el unu el\nla boatoj. Liaj manoj kaj piedoj estis ligitaj, sed kiam ili malligis\nliajn ligilojn, li kuris la\u016deble rekte al mia domo.\nPor diri la veron, ekvidante, ke \u0109iuj ceteraj kuris por lin kapti,\nmiaj haroj stari\u011dis pro timo. En la rivereton li na\u011dis simile al fi\u015do,\nkaj lia saltego alportis lin tra la rivereto iombate. \u0108iuj nun \u0109esigis\nla \u0109asadon escepte du, kaj tiuj-\u0109i na\u011dis tra la rivereto sed neniel\ntiel rapide. Nun, mi pensis, estas por mi la okazo helpi la\nmalfeli\u0109ulon, kaj mia koro min diris, ke estos bone tion fari. Mi\nprenis miajn du pafilojn, malsupreniris la \u015dtupetaron kaj\nsuprenkuregis la monteton, malsupren tra vojeto por renkonti ilin.\nMi signodonis al la malfeli\u0109a sklavo, ke li venu al mi, kaj samtempe\nmi suprenkuris por renkonti la du virojn \u0109asante lin. Mi kuris al la\nunua, terenbatis lin pafiltenile. Mi vidis, ke la alia celis pafarke\nal mi; tial, por savi mian vivon, mi lin mortpafis.\nLa fumo kaj pafilbruo, tiom terurigis la sklavon, ke li tuj venki\u011dis\nkvaza\u016d pro son\u011dado. Mi kriegis, ke li venu al mi, kaj mi, penis montri\nal li, ke mi estas amiko, mi anka\u016d faris \u0109iueblajn signojn, por allogi\nlin al mi. Fine, li venis, genui\u011dis por kisi la teron, kaj poste\nekprenis mian piedon, metante \u011din sur sian kapon, tio signifante ke li\nestas mia sklavo, kaj mi ordonis al li, ke li stari\u011du, kaj mi agis\nbone al li.\nSed restis pli multe da heroa\u0135o, \u0109ar la viro, ricevinte la pafilbaton,\nne estis malviva. Mi signodonis al mia sklavo (kiel mi nun lin nomos),\nke li lin gardu. \u0108e tio li parolis al mi, kaj, kvankam mi ne povis\nkompreni tion, kion li diras, tamen, mi sentis \u011dojfrapon, \u0109ar estis la\nunua sono de homa vo\u0109o, kiun mi a\u016ddas \u0109iomjare de kiam mi alvenis sur\nla insulon.\nLa viro, kiun mi pafilbatis, sidi\u011dis, kaj mia sklavo timante lin,\nsignodonis al mi por havigi mian glavon, pendante en zono miaflanke.\nKun \u011di li alkuris al la viro, kaj unubate detran\u0109is lian kapon. Tion\nfarinte, li ridante reportis la glavon, kaj demetis \u011din anta\u016d mi. Mi\nne \u015datis la \u011dojon pri kiu li \u011din faris, kaj mi ne konsideris mian\nvivon tute sendan\u011dere kun tia homo.\nLi, siaparte, suprenlevis siajn grandajn brunajn manojn timege,\nmirante kiel mi mortigis la malamikon starante tiel malproksime de li.\nPri la glavo, li kaj la ceteraj el lia gento uzas lignoglavojn; kaj\nsekve, li sciis bone kiamaniere manregi la mian. Li faris signojn al\nmi, ke mi lin permesu aliri kaj rigardi la viron mortpafitan, kaj li\nmulte turnis lin de flanko al flanko, kaj ekvidante la vundon en la\nbrusto, farita per la kuglo, ree staras senmove, spritlime. Mi faris\nsignojn al li, ke li revenu, \u0109ar anta\u016dsento al mi diris, ke eble venos\nla ceteraj por ser\u0109adi.\nMi ne deziris kunpreni mian sklavon al mia domo a\u016d mia kaverno; tial\nmi dis\u0135etis iom da rizpajlo por la dormejo, kaj mi donis iom da pano\nkaj aron da vinberoj sekigitaj por la man\u011da\u0135o. Li estis belviro, alta\nkaj juna, kun regulaj fortaj membroj. Lia hararo estis densa kvaza\u016d\nlano, kaj nigra. Lia kapo estis granda kaj alta, kaj li havis brilajn\nnigrajn okulojn. Lia ha\u016dto estis nigrebruna, la viza\u011do ronda, kaj la\nnazo malgranda sed ne plata; li havis belforman bu\u015don kun lipoj\nmaldikaj, per kiuj li povis fari dol\u0109an rideton; kaj liaj dentoj estis\nblankaj kvaza\u016d ne\u011do.\nIam melkante mian kaprinaron en la apuda kampo, li min vidante, kuris\nal mi, kaj terenku\u015di\u011dis por montri al mi sian dankon. Tiam li almetis\nsian kapon altere kaj almetis mian piedon sur \u011din, kiel anta\u016de. Li\npenis sciigi al mi per \u0109iueblaj manieroj, ke li servos al mi la tutan\nvivon; kaj mi signodonis, ke mi lin \u015datas.\nMi nun devas elpensi nomon por li. Mi elektis la nomon de la sesa tago\nde la semajno (Vendredo) \u0109ar li venis al mi tiutage. Mi zorge ne lasis\nlin el mia vido tiunokte, kaj tuj kiam la suno levi\u011dis mi signodonis\nal li ke li venu al mi por ke mi donu al li iom da vesta\u0135o, \u0109ar li\nneniom portis. Poste, ni supreniris la monteton por observi la virojn,\nsed \u0109ar ni ne povis ilin vidi, estis evidente, ke ili jam forlasis la\ninsulon.\nMia sklavo poste min diris, ke okazis batalego kontra\u016d la apude\nlo\u011danta gento, kaj al la partio kiu kaptas virojn, la kaptitoj\npropra\u0135i\u011das. La malamikoj de mia sklavo akiris kvar virojn; li, unu el\ntiuj.\nMi nun faris \u0109apon leporfelan por mia sklavo, kaj donis al li\nkaprofelon por porti \u0109irka\u016d la talio. Li treege fieri\u011dis eltrovante\nlian vesta\u0135on kiel la mia.\nNokte mi gardis miajn pafilojn, mian glavon, kaj la pafarkon\nmiaflanke; sed tio ne estis necesa, \u0109ar mia sklavo vere estis plej\nfidela al mi. Li faris \u0109ion, kion mi ordonis al li, tutkore; kaj mi\nsciis, ke li oferus sian vivon por savi la mian. Kion povas fari viro\npli ol tio? Ho, la \u011dojo, \u0109ar mi lin havis \u0109e tiu-\u0109i dezerta insulo por\nmin kura\u011digi.\nLa\u016deble mi instruis lin, infane li estis, por ke li faru kaj sentu\ntion, kio estas prava. Mi lin trovis kapabla kaj sportema; kaj li\npenegadis lerni \u0109ion, kion mi diris al li. Nia vivo pasis trankvile,\nebenavoje; kaj se ne estus na\u016dzaj festenoj faritaj \u0109e la marbordo mi\nne dezirus forlasi la insulon.\n\u0108ar Vendredo ne ankora\u016d perdis la guston por tiaj festenoj, mi pensis,\nke estos la plej bona por li, se li gustumos la viandon de bestoj;\ntial unu tagon mi lin kunprenis al la arbaro sportige. Mi ekvidis\nkaprinon en la ombra\u0135o kun siaj du idoj. Mi brake prenis Vendredon,\nkaj signodonis al li, ke li ne movi\u011du, kaj tiam mi mortpafis unu idon;\nsed la pafilbruo tremigis la malfeli\u0109ulon. Li \u011distiam ne ekvidis la\nidon nek sciis ke \u011di nun estas malviva. Li fortiris sian veston de la\nbrusto por senti \u0109u tie estas vundo, tiam li genuis anta\u016d mi kaj\nekprenis miajn genuojn kvaza\u016d pre\u011dante, ke mi ne mortigu lin.\nPor montri al Vendredo, ke lia vivo estas sendan\u011dere, mi mankondukis\nlin kaj ordonis al li, ke li alportu la idon. Tre balda\u016d mi ekvidis\nakcipitron sur arbo, kaj mi diris, rigardu la pafilon, akcipitron, kaj\nla teron; tiam mi mortpafis la birdon. Sed mia sklavo tiufoje\ntimsigni\u011dis pli ol anta\u016de, tremante de kapo al piedoj. Li sendube\npensis, ke ia mortigisto lo\u011das en la pafilo, kaj mi certe opinias, ke\nli estus genufleksanta anta\u016d \u011di tiel same kiel anta\u016d mi; kaj\nkelkatempe li e\u0109 ne volis tu\u015di la pafilon, kvankam li parolis al \u011di,\nse li pensis, ke mi ne \u0109eestas. Unufoje li diris al mi, ke li \u011din\npetigis ke \u011di lin ne mortigu.\nMi hejmportis la birdon, kaj faris buljonon el \u011di. Vendredo tre miris,\nkiam li vidis, ke mi man\u011das salon kun \u011di, kaj li tordis la viza\u011don;\nsed mi, miaparte, prenis iom da buljono sen salo, kaj la\u016de tordis la\nviza\u011don. Morga\u016dtage, mi donis al li pecon da kapra\u0135o, kiun mi anta\u016de\npendigis per \u015dnuro anta\u016d la fajro por \u011din rosti. Mia maniero estis,\nstarigi du stangojn, unu \u0109iuflanke de la fajro, kun bastono trans\niliaj suproj por subteni la \u015dnuron. Gustumante la viandon, li sciigis\nal mi la\u016deble, kiel bona li \u011din konsideras.\nMorga\u016dtage mi sendis lin por elbati kaj kribri iom da greno. Mi\nvidigis lin, kiel mi faras panon, kaj li balda\u016d faris la tutan\nlaboron. Mi vere amis lian fidelan varman koron, kaj li balda\u016d lernis\nparoli al mi. Unu tagon mi diris, \u201c\u0108u viagentaj viroj venkas en\nbatalo?\u201d Li respondis ridete, venkas. \u201cNu,\u201d mi diris, \u201cKial ili\npermesis siajn malamikojn kapti vin?\u201d\n\u201cKuri unu, du, tri, kaj fari en boato tiam.\u201d (Vendredo ne ankora\u016d\npovis paroli bone).\n\u201cNu, kion ili faras kun la kaptitoj?\u201d\n\u201cTute man\u011di ili.\u201d\nTio ne estas bona nova\u0135o por mi, sed mi da\u016drigis, kaj demandis, \u201cKien\nili prenas ilin?\u201d\n\u201cIri loko kie proksa.\u201d\n\u201c\u0108u ili venis tien-\u0109i?\u201d\n\u201cJes, jes, veni tie-\u0109i a\u016d aliloke.\u201d\n\u201c\u0108u vi dufoje estis tie-\u0109i kun ili?\u201d\n\u201cJes, veni tie-\u0109i.\u201d\nLi signifas la nordokcidentan flankon de la insulo; tial morga\u016dtage mi\nlin kondukis al tiu-\u0109i loko. Li rekonis la lokon, kaj diris al mi, ke\nli unufoje estis tie, kune kun dekdu viroj. Por sciigi min, li metis\nvice dekdu \u015dtonojn, ilin por mi kalkuli.\n\u201c\u0108u iafoje boatoj ne estas perditaj \u0109e via marbordo?\u201d Li respondis ke\nne estas dan\u011dero, kaj la boatoj ne estas perditaj. Li diris al mi, ke\ntre malproksime al la luno \u2014 tio estas, kie la luno \u0135us levi\u011dis \u2014\nlo\u011das gento da blankuloj kiuj similas min mem, kun barboj. Mi ne\ndubis, ke ili certe venis de Hispanujo por prilabori la orminejojn. Mi\ndemandis: \u201c\u0108u mi povos foriri de tiu-\u0109i insulo, kaj kuni\u011di kun tiuj-\u0109i\nviroj?\u201d\n\u201cJes, jes, vi iri en du boatoj.\u201d\nEstas malfacile kompreni kiamaniere unu viro povas veturi en du\nboatoj, sed li parolis pri boato duoble granda ol la mia.\nUnu tagon, mi diris al mia sklavo, \u201c\u0108u vi scias, kiu vin kreis?\u201d\nSed li tute ne povis kompreni la signifon de tiuj-\u0109i vortoj. Tial mi\ndiris, \u201c\u0108u vi scias, kiu kreis la maron, la teron sur kiu ni pa\u015das, la\nmontetojn kaj arbarojn?\u201d Li respondis, ke estas Biko, kies domo\ntrovi\u011das tre malproksime, kaj Biko estas tiel maljuna, ke la maro kaj\nla tero ne estas tiel granda\u011da kiel li.\n\u201cSe tiu-\u0109i maljunulo faris \u0109ion, kial \u0109io ne falas sur la genuojn\nanta\u016d li?\u201d\nMia sklavo alprenis gravan mienon kaj diris, \u201c\u0108io diri \u2018O\u2019 al li.\u201d\n\u201cKien la viroj vialandaj iras, kiam ili mortas?\u201d\n\u201cIri Bikon.\u201d\nTiam mi levis mian manon \u0109ielen, kaj diris, \u201cDio lo\u011das tie. Li kreis\nla mondon, kaj \u0109ion en \u011di. La luno kaj la steloj estas kreita\u0135oj de\nLia mano. Dio alsendas la venton kaj pluvon sur la teron, kaj la\nriveretojn, kiuj fluadas. Li ka\u015das la viza\u011don de la \u0109ielo per nuboj,\nLi kreskigas la herbon sur la kamparo, kaj kreska\u0135ojn por la uzo de la\nhomaro. La amo de Dio estas senfina. Kiam ni pre\u011das, Li alproksimi\u011das\nal ni, kaj a\u016ddas nin.\u201d\nMi sklavo vere \u011dojis, kiam li a\u016ddas min paroli pri tiaj aferoj.\nLongatempe, li senmove sidis, tiam sopiris, kaj diris al mi, ke li ne\ndiros plu \u2018O\u2019 al Biko, \u0109ar Biko lo\u011das nur spaceton de tie-\u0109i. Li ne\npovas a\u016ddi la homojn \u011dis ili supreniris la monteton al li.\n\u201c\u0108u vi supreniris la monteton por paroli al li?\u201d\n\u201cNe, ne, Obesoj iri Bikon, ne junaj.\u201d\n\u201cKion la Obesoj diris al li?\u201d\n\u201cDiri \u2018O\u2019.\u201d\nPost kiam mi konvinkis mian sklavon, ke Biko ne estas la vera Dio, li\ntiele sentis pri mi, ke mi timis anstata\u016di\u011di por Biko. La\u016deble, mi\npenegis, ke li kredu pri Kristo; mi \u011din klarigis, \u011dis fine \u2014 dankon\nal Sinjoro \u2014 mi sukcesis, kaj li ekamis Dion tutkore.\nPor pla\u0109i mian sklavon, mi iomvorte rakontis al li mian tutvivadon. Mi\ndiris al li, kie mi naski\u011dis, kaj kie mi pasigis mian infanecon. Li\n\u011dojis pro la rakontoj pri mia naskolando; la komerco portata per \u011diaj\n\u015dipoj \u0109iuparte de la konita mondo. Mi donis al li tran\u0109ilon, kio\nka\u016dzis, ke li dancis \u011doje.\nUnu tagon starante sur la supro monteta orientflanke de la insulo, mi\nekvidis lin, fervore rigardante kontinenten longtempe, kaj poste,\nvokante al mi, saltante kaj kantante.\n\u201cKion vi ekvidas?\u201d mi demandis.\n\u201cHa, \u011dojo!\u201d li respondis kun \u011dojo fervora en la okuloj. \u201cHa, \u011dojo, tie\nmia lando!\u201d\nKial li stre\u0109is la okulojn por rigardegi tiun-\u0109i landon, kvaza\u016d li\ndeziregus esti tie? Mi ektremis tiel, ke mi pli malpli sentis\nsendan\u011dera kun li. Mi pensis, reveninte al sia hejmo, ke li ne plu\npripensus pri tio, kion mi lin lernigis kaj kion mi faris por li. Kaj\nsciiginte sian genton pri miaj vivmanieroj, li sendube revenos, eble\nkun dudekoj, kaj min mortigos poste dancante \u0109irka\u016d mi simile al ili\nveninte la lastan tempon sur la insulo, dancis \u0109irka\u016d la viroj.\nSed tia timo estis vana, kvankam \u011di lo\u011dis en mia animo longatempe, kaj\nmi ne agis tiel bone al li kiel anta\u016de. De nun, tagon post tago, mi\npenis eltrovi, \u0109u estas ka\u016dzo por mia timo a\u016d ne. Mi diris, \u201c\u0108u vi\ndeziras, ke vi estu ree en via naskolando?\u201d\n\u201cJes, mi esti multe \u011doja tie.\u201d\n\u201cKion vi tie farus? \u0108u vi resova\u011di\u011dus?\u201d\n\u201cNe, ne, mi diri bonagi, man\u011di pano, lakto, ne plu man\u011di homo.\u201d\n\u201cKial, ili vin mortigus?\u201d\n\u201cNe, ne mortigus, lerni ami.\u201d\nTiam li diris al mi, ke kelke da blankaj homoj veninte al ilia bordo,\nilin instruis pri multaj aferoj.\n\u201c\u0108u vi do volas reveturi kun mi al via lando?\u201d\nLi respondis, ke li ne povas na\u011di tiel malproksimen, tial mi diris al\nli, ke li min helpu konstrui boaton por veturi en \u011di. Je tio li\nrespondis, \u201cSe vi iri, mi iri.\u201d\n\u201cSe mi iros? Ili min man\u011dos.\u201d\n\u201cNe, mi ka\u016dzi ili ami vi multe.\u201d\nTiam li diris al mi la\u016deble, kiel afable ili agis al kelke da\nblankuloj. Mi nun montris al li la grandan boaton por sciigi kion li\npensas pri \u011di, sed li ju\u011dis, ke \u011di estas tro malgranda. Poste ni iris\npor rigardi la boaton de la malnova \u015dipo, kiu tute ne estis en\nbonstato, ku\u015dinte tri jarojn en la sunbrilo. La malfeli\u0109ulo ne dubis,\nke \u011di ta\u016dgos. Sed kiamaniere ni povis tion eltrovi? Mi diris al li, ke\nni devos konstrui boaton tiel grandan kiel tiun, kaj ke li reiros\nhejmon en \u011di. Li ne parolis unu vorton, sed gravi\u011dis kaj mal\u011doji\u011dis.\n\u201cPro kio vi \u0109agrenas?\u201d mi diris\n\u201cVi kolera je mi, kial?\u201d\n\u201cKion vi diras? Mi ne estas malkontenta je vi.\u201d\n\u201cNe malkontenta? ne malkontenta je mi? Kial forsendi sklavo?\u201d\n\u201c\u0108u vi ne diris al mi, ke vi \u015datus iri hejmon?\u201d\n\u201cJes, jes, vi kaj mi tie; vi ne iri, mi ne iri.\u201d\n\u201cKaj kion mi povos fari tie?\u201d\n\u201cVi fari multe bone! Vi diri sova\u011duloj esti bone, koni Dio, pre\u011di al\nDio, vivi bone.\u201d\nNi balda\u016d ekkonstruis boaton sufi\u0109e grandan por ni amba\u016d. Unue ni\nelser\u0109is kelke da altaj arboj, kiuj kreskis apud la marbordo, por ke\nni povu surna\u011digi mian boaton farotan. Mia sklavo planis elbruli la\nlignon por \u011din bonformigi, sed planante \u011din elhaki, mi ordonis, ke li\nlaboru per miaj iloj, kaj post du monatoj konstrui\u011dis fortika boato\nsed postulis longtempe por \u015dovi \u011din marbordon.\nVendredo estis sola administranto de \u011di, kaj kvankam la boato estis\ngranda, li \u011din movis facile, kaj diris, ke li pensas, ke \u011di bone\nveturos spite ventblovo. Li ne sciis, ke mi intencas konstrui maston\nkaj velon. Mi dehakis junan abion por la masto, kaj tiam mi prilaboris\nla velon. Mi tute ne povis fari alie krom ridi, kiam mi vidis, kiel la\nsklavo staras kaj rigardegas, observante min velveturigi la boaton.\nSed tre balda\u016d li eksaltis, ekridis kaj manfrapis, vidante min turni\nla velon jen unuflanken, jen aliaflanken.\nNun, irigi la boaton supren la rivereto, kie ni tuj elfosas \u015dipejon,\nkaj kiam estis forfluo ni faris mar\u015dtopilon. Alveninte la jartempo por\nekveturi, ni alportis miajn provizojn por ilin meti surboaton.\nUnu tagon mi sendis Vendredon al la marbordo por havigi ian herbon\nkreskantan tie. Mi balda\u016d a\u016ddis, ke li vokas al mi: \u201cHo, mal\u011dojo! Ho,\nmalbone! Ho, malbone! Ho, boatoj tie, unu, du, tri!\u201d \u201cRestu\nkura\u011danime,\u201d mi diregis por lin kura\u011digi. La malfeli\u0109ulo ektremis\nfortege, pensante ke la viroj, kiuj lin alportis \u0109i-tien, nun revenis,\npor lin mortigi.\n\u201c\u0108u vi povas batali?\u201d mi demandis.\n\u201cMi pafi, sed tie tri boatoj, unu, du, tri!\u201d\n\u201cNe timu! Tiuj, kiujn ni ne mortigos, certe ektremos pro la pafilbruo.\nNu, \u0109u vi volas min helpi, kaj fari \u011duste tion, kion al vi estos\nordonita?\u201d\n\u201cMi morti, kiam vi diri morti.\u201d\nMi donis al li trinkon da rumo; kaj tion trinkinte li ekprenis hakilon\nkaj du pafilojn, kun \u015dar\u011do da kugleta\u0135oj. Mi anka\u016d ekprenis du\npafilojn, kaj \u015dar\u011dis ilin per grandaj kugleta\u0135oj, kaj pendigis la\ngrandan glavon miaflanke. De la supro monteta mi ekvidis tra mia\nvidilo, ke \u0109iu boato alportas ok virojn kaj unu sklavon. Ili\nsurteri\u011dis apud la rivereto, kie arbetaro kreskis \u011dis la maro. Ili\nkunhavis tri sklavojn firme ligitajn, kaj vi, legante tion-\u0109i, povas\ndiveni pro kiu ka\u016dzo ili alporti\u011dis \u0109i-tien. Mi sentis, ke mi devas\nprovi, savi ilin de tia terura sorto, kaj ke, por tion efektivigi,\nestos necese, ke ni mortigu kelkajn el iliaj malamikoj. Tial ni ekiris\nniavoje. Mi fortege ordonis Vendredon, ke li iradu apud mi kaj ne pafu\nanta\u016d ol komandita.\nNi iradis tutan mejlon for de nia vojo, por ke ni atingu la arbeta\u0135on,\npor ka\u015di\u011di tie. Sed survoje, revenis al mi miaj konsciaj duboj, kaj mi\npensis, \u0108u mi agus prove, se mi trempus miajn manojn en la sangon\nhoman? Kial mi estas mortigonta tiujn, kiuj ne malbonfaris al mi, kaj\nkiuj min ne intencas vundi? Ne, kiuj e\u0109 nescias, ke ili estas\nmalpravaj, aran\u011dante tiajn festenojn. \u0108u fara\u0135oj iliaj ne estas signo,\nke Dio lasis ilin (kaj anka\u016d la genton) al iliaj propraj malkleraj\nkoroj? Dio ne elektis min, ke mi estu ju\u011danto. Li, kiu diris, \u201cNe\nmortigu,\u201d \u011din diris al mi, same kiel al la ceteraj en la mondo.\nMaso da tiaj pensoj altrudis sin \u0109e mia animo, kvaza\u016d min avertante,\nke mi haltu \u011dis plimulto estos kio postulos mian intermeton, ol tio,\nkion mi nun scias. Mi haltadis en la arbeta\u0135o por observi la virojn\nfestene, kaj poste \u015dteliris anta\u016den, Vendredo post mi. Tiamaniere ni\niradis \u011dis ni venis al la arbeta\u0135limo. Tiam mi diris al Vendredo,\n\u201cSuprenrampu \u011dispinte tiun arbon, kaj sciigu min, \u0109u vi povas vidi la\nvirojn.\u201d\nLi iris pensrapide, kaj reveninte diris ke ili estas \u0109irka\u016d la fajro,\nkaj la ligita viro sur la sablo estas la sekvantulo, kiun ili\nmortigos. Sed kiam li diris al mi, ke la viro estas blankulo miarasa,\nmia sango ekbolis miavejne. Du el la bando iris por senligi la blankan\nviron, tial, nun estas por mi pafi.\nJe la pafilbruo mi vidis ke la viroj eksaltas de la tero, kie ili\nsidis. Estis sendube la unua pafilpafo, kiun ili iam a\u016ddis. Ili tute\nne sciis kien rigardi. Mi nun demetis mian pafilon, kaj ekprenis etan\npafilon; Vendredo la\u016dfaris, kaj mi ordonis, ke li pafu. Kriegante, la\nviroj kuris tien kaj reen.\nMi nun kuregis el la arbeta\u0135o por ke ili min vidu, mia sklavo\nsekvante, kompreneble. Ni la\u016dte ekkriegis, kaj la\u016deble kuris al la\nblanka viro. Jen li ku\u015dis sur la varmega sablo. Mi tratran\u0109is la\nbran\u0109eta\u0135on a\u016d kanon, per kiu li estis ligita, sed li estis tro\nmalforta por stari\u011di a\u016d paroli, tial mi donis al li iom da rumo. Li\nsciigis al ni per la\u016deblaj signoj, kiom li \u015duldas al mi pro \u0109io, kion\nmi faris.\nMi diris, \u201cPri tio ni poste parolos, sed nun estas necese, ke ni savu\nnian vivon.\u201d Libere por iri, kien li elektus, Vendredo kuris tien kaj\nreen, kaj fortimigis la virojn. Ili kuregis al siaj boatoj, kaj balda\u016d\ntrovi\u011dis sur la maro; tiamaniere ni fine liberi\u011dis de niaj malamikoj.\nLa viro trovita sursable, diris al ni, ke sia nomo estas Karlo, kaj li\nvenas de Hispanujo. Sed anka\u016d estas alia bezonanta nian zorgadon viro;\n\u0109ar la nigruloj lasis boateton sur la sabla\u0135o, kaj en \u011di mi ekvidis\nmalfeli\u0109ulon duonmortigitan. Li e\u0109 ne povis suprenrigardi, tiel firme\nli estis ligita kole kaj piede. Kiam mi tran\u0109is la ligilojn li\nprofunde ek\u011demis, \u0109ar li pensas, ke tio signifas mortkondukon.\nKiam Vendredo alvenis, mi ordonis, ke li parolu al la maljunulo\npatrolingve, kaj diru al li, ke li estas libera. Tiu-\u0109i bonnova\u0135o lin\nplifortigis, kaj li sin levis sidi\u011de en la boato. Sed kiam Vendredo\neka\u016ddis lin paroli kaj rigardis lian viza\u011don, venis larmoj en miajn\nokulojn, \u0109ar mi vidis, ke li kisas kaj \u0109irka\u016dprenas la malfeli\u0109an\nmaljunulon, kaj \u011doje saltas \u0109irka\u016d li; tiam levinte la manojn,\nfrapante sian viza\u011don kaj la kapon, li ploras kaj poste, denove ridas,\nkantas, saltas. Longatempe, li ne povis paroli al mi, por sciigi min\npri la signifo tuta. Sed fine li diris al mi, ke li estas la filo de\ntiu-\u0109i malfeli\u0109a maljunulo, kies nomo estas Jafo.\nEstus malfacila tasko por mi paroli pri \u0109iuj strangaj signoj, kiujn\nVendredo faris por montri sian \u011dojon. Kvin-a\u016d-sesfoje li eniris kaj\neliris la boaton; sidigis sin apud maljuna Jafo, kaj surtenis lian\nkapon siabruste por \u011din varmigi; tiam li ekfrotadis liajn brakojn kaj\npiedojn, kiuj nun estas malvarmaj kaj rigidaj pro la ligiloj. Mi\nordonis Vendredon, ke li donu al li iom da rumo kaj pano; sed li\nrespondis, \u201cNenio havi! Mi malbona hundo, man\u011di \u0109io, mem!\u201d Tuj li\nkuris domon, ne atentante miajn vokadojn sed kuris cervrapide.\nHore, li revenis kun kru\u0109o enmane. La bonulo iris tutspace por ke Jafo\nhavu fre\u015dan trinkon el mia puto; kaj li alportis du kukojn; unu, mi\nordonis, ke li donu al Karlo, kiu ku\u015dis en la arbombra\u0135o, rigida kaj\ntro malforta por paroli e\u0109 unu vorton.\nMi ordonis, ke mia sklavo rume frotadu liajn piedojn, tion farante, mi\nekvidis ke Vendredo de tempo al tempo turnis la kapon por ke li\nrigardu la maljunulon. Surdorse ni hejmportis Karlon kaj Jafon de la\nboato, \u0109ar ili tute ne povis piediri. La pordo miadoma trovi\u011dis supre\nkaj \u0109ar la malfeli\u0109aj malsanuloj ne povis surrampi la \u015dtupetaron, ni\nfaris por ili tendon el malnovaj veloj.\nParto V\nMi nun estis re\u011do super tri viroj, kiel anka\u016d mastro de la insulo, ja!\nmi fiere povis diri, \u201cIli \u015duldas al sia re\u011do sian vivon, kaj \u011din\noferus por mi, se mi ilin ordonus tion fari.\u201d Sed mi ne anta\u016dvidis, ke\nmia regado tiel balda\u016d fini\u011dos. Nun ni devas doni iom da nutra\u0135o al\nKarlo kaj Jafo, tial ni bu\u0109is kaj rostis kapridon, kaj \u0109irka\u016d \u011di ni\nkvar poste sidi\u011dis, kaj mi la\u016deble feli\u0109igis ilin.\nPost kelke da tagoj Karlo tute forti\u011dis, kaj mi ordonis lin, ke li\nfosu iom da tero por semejo, \u0109ar estis certe, ke por nutrigi du bu\u015dojn\nplu, ni nun bezonos plimulte da greno. Tial ni dissemis en la semejon\nla tutan provizon da greno, kiun ni havas, kaj kelkatempe ni kvar\nhavas da laborado tiom, kiom ni povas fari. Kreski\u011dinte la greno\nmaturi\u011dis, kaj ni eltrovis, ke ni havas sufi\u0109on.\nMi projektis, ke Karlo kaj Jafo reveturu al la kontinento por allogi\nkelkajn el la blankaj homoj, \u0135etitaj sur tiean bordon, por ke ili\nlo\u011di\u011du kaj vivu inter ni; tial ili pretigis la boaton, kaj kunprenis\ndu pafilojn, kaj nutra\u0135on \u011disdektage. Mi ordonis, ke ili revenu post\nsemajno, kaj alproksimi\u011dante, elpendigu signon por ke ni scii\u011du, kiuj\nalvenas.\nUnu tagon Vendredo \u011dojege alkuris al mi kaj diris, \u201cIli veni returne!\nIli veni returne!\u201d Mejlon de la bordo vidi\u011dis velboato veturanta\nalteren, sed mi sciis, ke tiu \u011di ne povas esti, \u0109ar la boato estas\naliflanke de la insulo. Mi anka\u016d vidis tra mia vidilo \u015dipon\nmalproksimen enmare. Trovi\u011dis dekdu viroj boate; tri \u0109enligitaj, kaj\nkvar havas pafarmilojn.\nBalda\u016d mi vidis, ke unu el la viroj levis sian glavon anta\u016d la\n\u0109enligitaj viroj, kaj mi sentis ke \u0109io ne estas \u011dusta. Poste mi vidis\nke tri viroj anta\u016de ligitaj estas senligitaj; kaj surteri\u011dinte, ili\nku\u015di\u011dis en la ombron arban. Balda\u016d mi estis \u0109e ilia flanko, \u0109ar ilia\nmal\u011doja kaj \u0109agreni\u011da vidi\u011do min memorigis pri la unuaj horoj, kiujn\nmi travivis \u0109e tie-\u0109i kie \u0109io envolvi\u011dis en malgajo.\nMi aliris al tiuj-\u0109i viroj kaj diris:\n\u201cKiuj vi estas, sinjoroj?\u201d\nIli ektimis pro mia vo\u0109o kaj stranga vesta\u0135o, kaj ekmovis kvaza\u016d ili\nvolus forkuri de mi. Mi diris, \u201cNe timi min, \u0109ar eble amiko estas\napude, kvankam vi ne tion pensas.\u201d \u201cTiuokaze li certe estas sendita el\nla \u0109ielo,\u201d diris unu el ili gravmiene, kaj samtempe demetas la \u0109apon\nanta\u016d mi. \u201c\u0108ia helpo venas de \u0109ielo, sinjoro,\u201d mi diris. \u201cSed kion mi\npovas fari, por vin helpi? Vi vidi\u011das kvaza\u016d vi havas \u015dar\u011don da\nplenka\u016dzo enbruste. Mi vidis, anta\u016de, ke unu el la viroj levis sian\nglavon, kvaza\u016d li intencas mortigi vin.\u201d\nLa larmoj fluis malsupren la viza\u011do de la malfeli\u0109ulo dum li diras,\n\u201c\u0108u tiu-\u0109i estas dio a\u016d homo?\u201d \u201cNe dubu pri tio, sinjoro,\u201d mi\nrespondis, \u201c\u0108ar Dio ne venus en la\u016da vesta\u0135o. Ne, ne timu \u2014 nek\ntroaltigu viajn esperojn; \u0109ar vi vidas nur homon; tamen, unu kiu\nla\u016deble faros \u0109ion, por helpi vin. Via parolado montras, ke ni estas\nsamlandanoj. Sciigu al mi tion, kio okazis al vi.\u201d\n\u201cNia afero, sinjoro, estas trolonga por \u011din diri al vi, dum tiuj, kiuj\nvolis mortigi nin, restas tiel proksime. Mia nomo estas Pa\u016dlo.\nIomvorte, sinjoro, mia \u015dipanaro el\u0135etis min el mia \u015dipo, kiun vi tie\nvidas, kaj min lasis tie-\u0109i por morti. Mi povis apena\u016d farigi ilin, ke\nili englavingu siajn glavojn jam eltiritajn por min mortigi. Ili\nelmetis min kun la du jenaj viroj, mia amiko, kaj la \u015dipoficiro.\u201d\n\u201cKien ili iris?\u201d mi demandis.\n\u201cTien, en la arba\u0135eton apudan. Mi timas, ke ili min ekvidis kaj a\u016ddis;\ntiuokaze mortigos nin.\u201d\n\u201c\u0108u ili havas pafarmilojn?\u201d\n\u201cIli havas kvar pafilojn; unu, en la boato nun.\u201d\n\u201cNu, lasu al mi \u0109ion fari!\u201d\n\u201cEstas du viroj pli malbonaj ol la ceteraj\u201d li diris. \u201cKrom tiujn, la\naliaj reveturigis la \u015dipon.\u201d\nMi ju\u011dis, ke estus plej bone, se mi regparolus al Pa\u016dlo, kaj mi diris,\n\u201cSe mi savos vian vivon regi\u011dos du aferoj, kiujn vi devas plenumi.\u201d\nSed li legis miajn pensojn, kaj rediris, \u201cSavinte mian vivon, faru\nla\u016dvole pri mi kaj mia \u015dipo, kaj veturigu \u011din, kien vi pla\u0109os.\u201d\nMi konkludis, ke la du boatgardoj estis surtere, tial tuj ordonis\nVendredon, ke li alportu la remilojn, la velojn, kaj la pafilojn. Nun\nla \u015dipo estis kvaza\u016d en miajn manojn. Kiam la viroj revenis al la\nboato, ili koleregi\u011dis, \u0109ar la boato nun nek havas velon nek remilojn,\nkaj ili ne sciis kiamaniere atingi la \u015dipon.\nMi a\u016ddis ilin interparoli, ke tiu-\u0109i estas stranga insulo, ke koboldoj\nvenis al la boato kaj forprenis la velojn kaj remilojn. Mi povis vidi,\nke kolerege ili kuris tien-reen; jen sidi\u011dis boate, jen reiris\nsurteron.\nKiam ili aproksimi\u011dis, Pa\u016dlo kaj Vendredo deziris ke mi tuj ataku\nilin. Sed mi deziris indulgi ilin, kaj mortigi malmultajn la\u016deble. Mi\nordonis ke du viroj, la\u016dteren rampu manepiede, por ke oni ilin ne\nvidu; kaj, alproksimi\u011dinte ilin, ne pafu \u011dis mi \u011din ordonos.\nBalda\u016d tri el la \u015dipanaro alproksimi\u011dis. \u011cistiam mi nur a\u016ddis iliajn\nvo\u0109ojn; sed, alproksimi\u011dinte, ke mi ilin povis vidi, Pa\u016dlo kaj\nVendredo levi\u011dis kaj pafis. Du viroj falis mortpafitaj, la du plej\nmalbonaj el la \u015dipanaro, kaj la tria forkuris. Je la pafilbruo, mi\nalkuris, sed estis tiel malluma, ke la viroj ne povis eltrovi, \u0109u ni\nestas tri a\u016d tri dudekoj.\nOkazis, kiel mi deziris, \u0109ar mi a\u016ddis ke la viroj demandis: \u201cAl kiuj\nni devas kapitulaci, kaj kie ili estas?\u201d Vendredo respondis, ke Pa\u016dlo\nestas kun la re\u011do de la insulo, kiu havis viraregon. Pri tio, unu el\nla \u015dipanaro diris, \u201cSe Pa\u016dlo indulgos niajn vivojn, ni kapitulacos.\u201d\n\u201cTiuokaze\u201d Vendredo da\u016drigis, \u201cvi scii\u011dos la re\u011dan volon.\u201d Tuj Pa\u016dlo\nparolis al ili: \u201cVi konas mian vo\u0109on; se vi demetos viajn armilojn, la\nre\u011do indulgos viajn vivojn.\u201d\nIli nun \u0135etis sin sur la genuojn por indulgigi la vivon. Mi zorgis, ke\nili ne vidu min, kaj promesis al ili, ke ili vivos, sed ke mi elektos\nkvar el ili por veturigi la \u015dipon, kaj ke la ceteraj estos firme\nligitaj por certigi la fidelecon de la kvaro. Tiel mi montris al ili,\nkia severega re\u011do mi estas.\nKompreneble, mi balda\u016d liberigis ilin, kaj instruis ilin por anstata\u016di\nmin sur la insulo. Mi diris al ili pri \u0109iuj miaj vivmanieroj, instruis\nilin kiel zorgi pri la kaproj, prilabori la farmon, kaj fari panon. Mi\ndonis al ili domon, pafarmilojn, laborilojn, la du katojn; fakte, \u0109ion\nescepte Polo kaj mia oro.\nKiam mi sidis sur la supro monteta, Pa\u016dlo alproksimi\u011das. Li etendis la\nmanon por elmontri la \u015dipon, kaj kun kortu\u015deco \u0109irka\u016dprenis min, kaj\ndiris: \u201cMia kara amiko, jen via \u015dipo! \u011di tute estas la via, kaj \u0109io\nkio estas en \u011di.\u201d\nMi okulrigardis la \u015dipon, kiu restis duonmejlon de la terbordo \u0109e la\nenfluejo rivereta, kaj apud la loko, kie mi surterigis mian floson.\nJa, tie \u011di ku\u015das, la \u015dipo, kiu estas liberigonta min kaj alportos\nmin, kien mi elektos aliri. \u011ci havas la velojn la\u016dvente, kaj la flagoj\nbalancis siajn gajajn strekojn en la venteto. Tia vida\u0135o \u011dojvenkis\nmin, kaj mi svenfalis. Tiam Pa\u016dlo elprenis boteleton, kaj donis al mi\ntrinkon, sed longtempe mi ne povis paroli.\nTiam Vendredo kaj Pa\u016dlo sur\u015dipi\u011dis, kaj Pa\u016dlo rekomandis la \u015dipanaron.\nNi ne ekveturis tiunokte; sed morga\u016dtagmeze mi forlasis la insulon \u2014\ntian dezertan insulon, kie mi pasigis tian grandparton de mia vivo \u2014\nnetute trioble dek longajn jarojn.\nReveninte al mia kara naski\u011dlando, \u0109io \u015dajnis al mi stranga kaj nova.\nMi iris al mia anta\u016da hejmo en Jorko, sed tie ne trovi\u011dis iuj el miaj\nparencoj, kaj mal\u011doje mi eltrovis sur iliaj tomb\u015dtonaj la mal\u011dojan\nsciigon pri ilia sorto.\nPensante kompreneble, ke mi jam morti\u011dis, ili testamentis al mi nek\nsiajn ri\u0109a\u0135on nek bienon, tial mi tre bezonis ian enspezon, \u0109ar mi\nkunprenis nur malmulte da mono kun mi de la insulo. Jen malri\u0109eco, mi\nhavis la bon\u015dancon renkonti mian bonamikon, kiu iam enprenis min en\nsian \u015dipon. Li nun trogranda\u011dis por labori, kaj lia filo nun estris la\n\u015dipon. Li unue ne rekonis min, sed balda\u016d rememori\u011dis pri mi post kiam\nmi diris al li, kiu mi estas. Mi eltrovis de li, ke la bieno, kiun mi\na\u0109etis survoje insulon, nun estas multevalora.\n\u0108ar \u011di estis malproksime, mi ne \u015datis iri tien kaj lo\u011di tie, tial mi\ndecidis \u011din vendi, kaj post kelke da monatoj mi ricevis por \u011di tiel\nmulte da mono, ke mi subite fari\u011dis ri\u0109ulo.\nSemajnoj, monatoj, kaj jaroj pasi\u011dis. Mi havas bienon, edzinon kaj du\nfilojn, kaj mi neniel estas juna; sed mi ne povis forigi fortan\ndeziron, lo\u011dante en miaj pensoj tage kaj en miaj son\u011doj nokte; ke mi\nankora\u016d unufoje vizitu mian karan insulon.\nMi nun ne plu devas laboradi por nutra\u0135o a\u016d por vivtenado; \u0109io, kion\nmi devas fari, jene: instrui miajn filojn kiel sa\u011di\u011di kaj boni\u011di, kaj\nmem vivi komforte kaj observi kiel mia ri\u0109a\u0135o pligrandi\u011das tagon post\ntago. Tamen, la dezirego reiri al miaj terdometoj envolvis min la\u016dnube\nkaj mi ne povis \u011din forpeli de mi; tiel vere estas: \u201cKiu ajn en osto\nennaski\u011dis, ne el karno eliri\u011dis.\u201d\nFine morti\u011dis mia edzino, kio estis frapego, kaj mia hejmo nun estas\ntiel malgaja, ke mi decidis ree ekiri surmaron; kaj, kun Vendredo\nvoja\u011di al tiu dezerta insulo, kie lo\u011das miajn esperojn tutajn.\nMi kunprenis provizon, ilojn, vesta\u0135ojn, kaj simila\u0135ojn la\u016dspace,\nanka\u016d lertmetiistojn por lo\u011di sur la insulo. Ekveturante, ni havis\nfavoran venton, sed ununokte, la \u015dipoficiro min sciis, ke li observis\nfulmon kaj a\u016ddis pafegon. Je tio, \u0109iuj kuris al la ferdeko, de kie ni\nvidas grandan lumon, kaj, \u0109ar ne estas tero en tiu direkto, ni sciis\nke \u015dipo certe brulas surmare iomproksime, \u0109ar ni a\u016ddis pafbruon.\nLa vento ankora\u016d estis favora, tial ni veturis al la proksimeco, kie\nla lumo vidi\u011dis, kaj post duonhoro, klari\u011dis al ni, ke marmeze brulas\n\u015dipo granda. Mi ordonis ke oni pafu kvin pafojn, kaj poste ni atendis\nla ektagi\u011don. Sed noktmeze la \u015dipo eksplodis, la flamoj for\u015dutis, kaj\nla \u015dipresta\u0135o subakvi\u011dis. Ni elpendigis lanternojn kaj da\u016drigis la\npafadon tutanokte por sciigi ke iu helpos ilin.\nJe la oka horo morga\u016dtagmeze, ni eltrovis per vidilo ke du el la\n\u015dipboatoj, plenaj de viroj, restas enmare. Nun vidis nin la viroj\nenboataj, kaj penis la\u016deble, ke ni vidu ilin, kaj duonhore, ni atingis\nilin.\nNepriskribebla, la sceno, kiu okazis, kiam la malfeli\u0109aj Francoj (tiaj\ndo ili estis) atingis \u015dipbordon. Pri mal\u011dojoj kaj timoj, \u0109io tuj\npriskribi\u011dis \u2014 sopiroj, ek\u011demoj kaj larmoj fari\u011das la tuta\u0135o ilia, sed\ntia \u011dojka\u016dzo vere estis tromulte por homoj malfortaj.\nKelkaj \u011dojkriegis kvaza\u016d ili krevu la \u0109ielon, aliaj ploregis kaj\ntordis la manojn kvaza\u016d en la profundega\u0135o de mal\u011dojo, kelkaj\ndancadis, ridadis, kantadis, sed ne malmultaj estis mutaj, malsanaj,\nmalfortaj, svenantaj, a\u016d duonfrenezaj, kaj vidi\u011dis du a\u016d tri, kiu\ndankis Dion.\nInter la stranga grupo trovi\u011dis juna Franca pretro, kiu penis la\u016deble\nkvietigi ilin, kaj mi observis ke li alproksimi\u011das al kelkaj el la\n\u015dipanaro, kaj diris al ili: \u201cKial vi kriegas, kaj el\u015diras la harojn,\nkaj tordas la manojn, miaj kunuloj? Via \u011dojo estu kora kaj plena,\nesprimu \u011din liberege, kaj \u0109esigu tiujn-\u0109i falsgestojn; levu la manojn\nla\u016ddante; la\u016dti\u011du via vo\u0109o ne kriegante sed dankhimnante al Dio, kiu\nvin helpis el tia granda dan\u011dero, \u0109ar tion fari aldonos pacon al via\n\u011dojo.\u201d\nMorga\u016dan tagon \u0109io trovi\u011dis normala, tial mi dividis kun ili mian\nprovizon, kaj ilin surbordigis sur renkonitan \u015dipon, survoje al\nFrancujo, \u0109iujn, krom kvin, kun la pretro, deziris kunigi sin kun mi.\nSed ni nelongtempe veturis, kiam ni renkontis \u015dipon ventegpelitan\nenmaron, la mastoj perditaj, kaj ol \u0109io pli malbone, \u011dia \u015dipanaro ne\nhavis uncon da viando nek pano dum dek tagoj. Mi donis al \u0109iu iom da\nnutra\u0135o, kiun ili man\u011dis kvaza\u016d lupoj, sed timante ke trosato ka\u016dzus\nla morton, mi haltigis ilin.\nTrovi\u011dis en la \u015dipo junulo kaj junulino, pri kiuj la \u015dipoficiro ju\u011dis,\nke ili jam morti\u011dis, kaj li ne havis la korforton por iri al ili. Mi\neltrovis, ke ili malforti\u011dis pro malsato, kaj estas kvaza\u016d en la\nmakzeloj de la morto; sed post iom da tempo ili amba\u016d resani\u011dis, kaj,\n\u0109ar ili ne deziris reiri al ilia \u015dipo, mi kunprenis ilin. Tial mi jam\nhavis sur\u015dipe ok pli ol tiam, kiam mi ekveturis.\nPost tri monatoj de mia hejmforlaso, mi ekvidis mian insulon, kaj bone\nalterigis la \u015dipon flanke de la rivereto, apud mia anta\u016da domo.\nIrante al Vendredo, mi demandas, \u0109u li scias, kie ni nun trovi\u011das. Li\n\u0109irka\u016drigardegis, kaj balda\u016d, kunefrapante la manojn, diris: \u201cHa, jes!\nHa, tie! Ha, jes, ha, tie!\u201d Balda\u016d li ekdancis tia\u011dojege, ke mi lin\napena\u016d povis deteni sur la ferdeko. \u201cNu, kion vi pensas, Vendredo,\u201d mi\ndiris, \u201c\u0109u ni tie-\u0109i trovos ilin, kiujn ni lasis?\u201d\nTutmute li staris tempeton, sed kiam mi parolis pri maljuna Jafo (kies\nfilo Vendredo estas) la larmoj fluis malsupren lian viza\u011don, kaj lia\nkoro mal\u011doji\u011dis.\n\u201cNe, ne,\u201d li diris, \u201cNe plu, ne, ne plu.\u201d\n\u201cKial vi tion scias?\u201d mi demandis, sed li skuis la kapon, dirante,\n\u201cHo, ne, ho, ne, li morti longe, li granda\u011da viro.\u201d\n\u0134us tiam liaj akraj okuloj ekvidis kelke da homoj \u0109e la supro monteta,\nkaj li diris, \u201cMi vidi virojn, tie, tie, tie!\u201d\nMi ne povis vidi signon pri ili, sed ordonis pafi tri pafojn por\nanonci, ke ni estas amikoj, kaj ni balda\u016d ekvidis fumon suprenirantan\n\u0109e la flanko rivereta. Tiam mi ordigis la boaton, levis pacflagon, kaj\nsurteri\u011dis kun Vendredo, la franca pretro kaj kelkaj el la \u015dipanaro.\nNi \u0109iuj havis armilojn, \u0109ar ni ne sciis \u0109u trovi\u011dus malamikoj sur la\ninsulo, sed poste eltrovis, ke singardemo ne estas necesa. La unua\nviro, kiun mi ekvidis \u0109e la rivereto, estis mia malnova amiko, Karlo\nde Hispanujo, kiun anta\u016de, mi prenis el la manoj de la ru\u011daj homoj.\nMi komandis al \u0109iuj boate, ke ili ne surteri\u011du, sed Vendredon mi ne\npovis deteni, \u0109ar li ekvidis maljunan Jafon. Ni staris rigardante lin,\nkiel li kvaza\u016d flugas al la maljunulo la\u016dsage, kaj \u0109irka\u016dprenas lin,\nkaresis kaj sidigas lin en la ombron; poste, li forstaras spaceton por\nrigardi lin tutanime en okuloj, simile al oni rigardas artverkon.\nTiam, mano en mano li kondukas lin tien kaj reen la\u016d la marbordo,\niafoje venante al la boato por alporti al li kukon a\u016d trinketon da\nrumo; poste, li residigis lin sur la teron, dancadis \u0109irka\u016d li, dume\ndirante al li strangajn rakontojn pri \u0109io, kion li vidis de kiam li\nkaj maljuna Jafo laste kunestis.\nKarlo kaj liaj amikoj portis pacflagon la\u016d la mia, kaj unue, Karlo ne\neltrovis kiu mi estas; sed, kiam mi parolis kun li lialingve, li\nsupren\u0135etegis la brakojn, kaj diris, ke li hontas ne rekonante la\nviza\u011don de la viro, kiu foje venis por savi lin. Li kore premis mian\nmanon, kaj poste kondukis mi al mia anta\u016da domo, kiun li nun\ntransdonis al mi.\nMi ne eltrovus la lokon pli malfacile se mi neniam lo\u011dus tie: la arboj\nestis tiel multaj kaj densaj, ke neniu povis atingi la domon alie ol\nla\u016d tiaj ka\u015ditaj vojetoj, kiujn povis eltrovi nur tiuj, kiuj ilin\nfaris. \u201cKial vi konstruis tian fortikan palisaron \u0109irka\u016d vi?\u201d mi\ndemandis; sed Karlo respondis, ke mi mem konsideros ke estas necese\ntion fari, certe post kiam mi a\u016ddas pri \u0109io kio okazis.\nTiam li venigis la anta\u016dajn \u015dipanojn de la \u015dipo de Pa\u016dlo, sed mi ne\npovis diveni, kiuj ili estas, \u011dis Karlo diris, \u201cJen, sinjoro, estas\nkelkaj el la viroj, kiuj \u015duldas al vi al vivon.\u201d\nTiam, ili vice venis al mi, ne kvaza\u016d anta\u016de, mal\u011dentila \u015dipanaro, sed\nsimile al altranguloj, kiuj estas kisontaj la manon de sia re\u011do.\nLa unua afero por mi estis a\u016ddi pri \u0109io kio okazis sur la insulo de\nkiam mi \u011din lasis.\nTa\u016dgas, ke mi jen pa\u016dzu mian rakonton por diri ke kiam mi estis\nlastfoje sur la insulo, mi elsendis Karlon kaj Jafon al la kontinento\npor allogi kelkajn el la amikoj de Karlo, kiuj \u0135eti\u011dis tien sur la\nmarbordon survoje de Hispanujo. Kompreneble mi tiam neatentis, ke \u015dipo\ntrovi\u011das tiel proksime por alporti min al mia naski\u011dlando. Tial,\nreveninte al la insulo, Karlo kaj Jafo trovis, ke mi jam foriris, kaj\nanstata\u016d ol mi, jen trovi\u011dis kvin fremduloj.\nTiuj-\u0109i kvin viroj estis parto da \u015dipanoj, kiuj el\u0135etis Pa\u016dlo el lia\n\u015dipo. Du el ili, kies nomoj estas Samo kaj Jo, ne estis tiaj\nmalbonuloj kiel siaj kunuloj, kiuj estis bando da friponegoj, kies\n\u0109efo estis nomita Vilhelmo. Forirante de la insulo en la \u015dipo de\nPa\u016dlo, mi kunprenis Samon kaj Jon sur\u015dipe, sed \u0135us kiam mi estis\nekveturonta, ili eniris unu el la boatoj de la \u015dipo, kaj reveturis al\nla insulo por kuni\u011di kun siaj tri amikoj.\nMi nun estas rakontonta, precize la\u016d mi \u011din a\u016ddis de Karlo, \u0109ion, kio\nokazis sur la insulo de kiam mi \u011din forlasis. Vidante, ke siaj du\nkunuloj revenis por kuni\u011di kun ili, Vilhelmo kaj liaj anoj bojkotis\nilin, nek permesis al ili lo\u011di kun ili nek partopreni en la nutra\u0135o.\nTial Samo kaj Jo devis vivi la\u016deble por si mem per severa laborado,\nkaj ili domi\u011dis flanke de la insulo, kie ili konstruis kabanon kaj\nbudon, kaj elfaris farmon.\nPor ke mi estu justa al Vilhelmo mi \u0109i-tie devas diri, ke, kvankam li\nestis malbonulo, li faris du bonfara\u0135ojn, kiam Karlo kaj liaj amikoj\nrevenis al la insulo: li donis al ili nutra\u0135on por man\u011di, kaj li metis\nen la manojn de Karlo mian letereton, kiel anka\u016d longan rulpaperon,\nsur kiun mi jam elskribis, kiamaniere ili povos baki panon, zorgi pri\nla kaproj, dissemi la grenon, sekigi la vinberojn, kaj fari potojn kaj\nargilvazojn, la\u016d mi faris.\nDum iom da tempo Karlo kaj lia anaro prosperis en mia anta\u016da hejmo:\nili havis la uzon de amba\u016d domo kaj kaverno, kaj en-el-iris la\u016dvole.\nKarlo kaj Jafo faris la laboron, sed pri Vilhelmo kaj liaj anoj, ili\nnenion faris esceptinte mortpafi birdojn \u0109e la marbordo. Nokte\nreveninte hejmon, ili sendankeme man\u011dis de \u0109ia bonman\u011da\u0135o en la domo,\nplie agis la\u016d la hundo en la stalo de la bovo: ne dezirante man\u011di, ili\nne permesis la ceterajn man\u011di. Ne decus paroli pri tiaj aferetoj, sed\npro ili fine okazis disputego kun la ceteraj, kaj ilia malamo tiom\nkreskis, ke karno kaj sango ne pli longe povis tion elporti.\nReveninte de la kontinento, Karlo \u2014 kiun mi nun nomos \u201c\u0109efo\u201d \u0109ar li\n\u0109efis la ceterajn \u2014 volas permesi, ke la kvin viroj el la \u015dipanaro de\nPa\u016dlo lo\u011du en la domo, kiel bonamikoj; sed, la tri friponoj ne volis\na\u016ddi pri tio; tial la \u0109efo donis al Samo kaj Jo grenon por dissemi,\nkaj iom da pizoj, kiun mi anta\u016de lasis sur la insulo; ili balda\u016d\nlernis fosi, kaj planti, kaj fari plektbarilojn \u0109irka\u016d la kampo, la\u016d\ntiu, kiun mi priskribis por ili; kaj, vivi virte.\nTion observante, la tri malbonuloj estis \u0135aluzaj; ektedis kaj ekenuis\nilin; dirante, ke la insulo al si mem apartenas; kaj neniu, ne pagante\nluprezon, havas rajton starigi konstrua\u0135ojn sur \u011di. Samo kaj Jo unue\npensis, ke tio estas \u015derco; kaj diris, \u201cVenu, sidi\u011du, kaj rigardu,\nkiajn belajn domojn ni konstruis; kaj diru al ni, kiom da luspezoj vi\ndeziras, ke ni pagu, kaj en kia monspeco vi preferas \u011din ricevi.\u201d\nSed Vilhelmo balda\u016d klare montris, ke ili ne \u015dercas; \u0109ar, li\nekbruligis tor\u0109on, kaj \u011din almetis al la domtegmento, kaj \u011din\nbruligus, se Jo ne tuj surmetus sian piedon sur la tor\u0109on kaj estingus\n\u011din. Tio, tiom furiozigis Vilhelmon, ke li lin atakis per stango, kiun\nli tenas en la mano, kaj nun okazis kruelega batalado, kiu fini\u011dis\ntiamaniere, ke la tri friponoj forkuregis. Sed tempete, ili revenis\nkaj piedpremis la grenon, kaj mortpafis la kapridojn.\nFine la malamo de Vilhelmo kaj liaj anoj tiom pligrandi\u011dis, ke\nununokte, ili ekiris kun pafarmiloj por mortigi Samon kaj Jon\ndumdorme. Sed veninte al iliaj kabanoj, ili neniun trovis; kaj\nVilhelmo diris, \u201cHa! jen la nesto, sed la \u2018birdoj\u2019 forflugis!\u201d Tiam\nili disrompis \u0109ion kion ajn ili povis ruinigi, ne lasante bastonon,\nnek signon por montri kie la kabanoj anta\u016de staris; kaj ili elradikis\n\u0109iujn arbetojn, kaj dis\u0135etis ilin renverse.\nA\u016ddante pri la fripona\u0135ojn, la sango de Karlo kaj liaj anoj ekbolis;\nsed \u0109io, kion Vilhelmo diris, estas, \u201cAl vi sinjoroj \u2018A\u0109uloj\u2019 de\nHispanujo, ni faros tiel same, se vi ne \u015dan\u011dos viajn manierojn.\u201d Tiam\nKarlo deprenis iliajn pafilojn kaj tran\u0109ilojn, kaj ordonis, ke ili\nestu \u0109enligataj. Sentante tian pikan ven\u011don, la tri friponoj balda\u016d\nmalvarmeti\u011dis, kaj deziregis paci\u011don, kaj rericevi siajn armilojn, kaj\nliberi\u011di. La \u0109efo diris al ili ke li iutempe liberigos ilin; sed ke li\nilin ne domigos, kaj ke li ne redonos la pafilojn anta\u016d ol tri a\u016d kvar\nmonatoj.\nFine, ili petegis ke Karlo kaj liaj anoj ilin reenmetu, kaj donu al\nili panon por man\u011di, \u0109ar ili ne havis alie ol ovaj nutra\u0135on \u011disnune.\nSed la \u0109efo diris, ke li neniom cedos \u011dis poste ili \u0135uros rekonstrui\nla kabanojn detruitajn. Tiam ili al\u0135uris.\nUnu tagon Vilhelmo kaj liaj du kamaradoj kaprice iris al la kontinento\npor kapti kelke da ru\u011daj homoj, kaj hejmporti ilin por sklavoj, por ke\nili faru la tedlaboron.\n\u011coje Karlo deziregus forestigu tiajn virojn, pri kiuj li neniam povis\nkonfidi, sed bonafide diris al ili, kiel malsa\u011da li konsideras la\nprojekton. Tamen, ili estis decidaj, kaj li donis al ili el la provizo\n\u0109ion, kion ili bezonos, kaj boategon por la veturo; kaj ilin\nadia\u016dante, neniu pensis, ke ili revenos al la insulo. Sed jen! post\ntri semajnoj ili ja revenis. Ili diris, ke ili trovis teron post du\ntagoj, kaj la ru\u011daj homoj donis al ili radikojn kaj fi\u015dojn por man\u011di.\nIli kunportis ok gesklavojn, tri virojn kaj kvin knabinojn, doninte\nanta\u016de al la bonmastro hakilon, fosilon, \u015dra\u016dbon, kaj malnovan\n\u015dlosilon.\nKoncerne tiuj-\u0109i junaj sklavinoj Karlo kaj la ceteraj viroj ne deziris\nedzi\u011di kun ili, tial la kvin viroj el la \u015dipanaro de Pa\u016dlo lotis, kaj\n\u0109iu ricevis unu kiel edzinon, sed la sklavoj faris la laboradon,\nkvankam ne estis multe da laboro por ili. Tamen, unu el ili forkuris\nal la arbeta\u0135o, kaj ni ne povis lin trovi; kaj \u0109ar kelkaj el la\nsova\u011daj gentoj alvenis sur la insulo por festeni kaj dancadi, Karlo\niom timis, ke li reiris kun ili, kaj reveninte hejmon sendan\u011dere, li\ncerte diros sian genton pri la lo\u011dejoj de la blankuloj.\nUnu nokton Karlo sentis tre malkvieta enanime, kaj tute ne povis\ndormi. Li ku\u015di\u011dis sed ne trankvili\u011dante li levi\u011dis kaj rigardis\neksteren. Li ne povis vidi ion, \u0109ar la nokto estis tro malluma, kaj li\nreku\u015di\u011dis. Sed ne estas ripozo. Ne sciante la ka\u016dzon de tia senripozo,\nli vokis unu el siaj kunuloj, parolante al li pri liaj timoj \u201cKion vi\ndiras!\u201d respondis li \u201ceble sova\u011da gento surteri\u011dis, kaj ilia\nboatbruado vin maldormigis.\u201d\nTiam ili rapidis al la supro monteta, kien mi ofte iris; de tie ili\nvidis tra vidilo boataron da pli ol dudeko da boatoj, plenaj je viroj\nhavante pafarkojn, sagojn, bastonegojn, glavojn lignajn, kaj similajn\nbatalilojn; kaj certi\u011dis, ke la alvenantoj estas bando da sova\u011duloj;\nvenante por rabegi la blankulojn.\nIliaj boatoj ankora\u016d estis malproksime enmare, tial Karlo kaj anoj\nhavas kelke da horoj por pripensi tion, kion faru. Lia nombro estante\ntiom malmulta, Karlo konsideris sa\u011de ka\u015di kaj gardi.\nUnue, ili sendan\u011deri\u011dis la edzinojn kaj provizojn en la arbaro\ndensparte. Tiam, tuj kiam ili vidis, ke la ru\u011duloj surteri\u011dis kaj\naldirektis la iradon, ili enpelis la kaprojn en la arbaron por vagadi\nla\u016dvole, por ke la ru\u011daj homoj opiniu ilin sova\u011daj.\nTuj Karlo kaj anoj grupi\u011dis, memstare kaj brave. Du virinojn oni ne\npovus deteni, kiuj ekiris por batali pafarke. Karlo, \u0109efo de la insulo\n\u0109efis, sed li nomis Vilhelmon, komandanton de unu grupo, \u0109ar li nun\nmontris tiom da fideleco, sa\u011deco kaj akra sento, ke \u0109iuj ju\u011das bone\npri la lerteco kaj fervoro.\nNe havante armilojn por \u0109iuj, la \u0109efo donis al la sklavoj, longan\nstangon najlpintan, kaj hakilon iliaflanke. Ili postenis en la\narbeta\u0135o apud la loko sur kiu anta\u016de staris la kabanoj bruligitaj, kaj\ntie ili atendis la ru\u011dajn homojn.\nLa kontra\u016duloj nun alpa\u015dis kun maltimaj kaj kruelegaj mienoj; ne orde\nsed amase diskure, al la loko kie Karlo atendas ilin. Kiam la unua\nbando tiom alproksimi\u011dis, ke ili estas en pafspaco, Karlo ordonis, ke\nsiaj anoj pafu unuigite sur ilin; por ke tiuj, unue aperante falu\nmortigitaj, kaj ke teruro kaj timego ekkaptu la ceterajn.\nTiam la \u0109efo kaj grupo eliris el la arbarlimo, kie ili \u011dis tiam\natendis, kaj tiam triflanke atakis la malamikojn pafilkape, glave,\nbastone, tiel brave, ke la ru\u011duloj la\u016dte ekkriegis kaj forkuris\nla\u016deble. \u0108ar la \u0109efo ne volis postsekvi ilin, ili sendan\u011dere revenis\nmarbordon, kie ku\u015das iliaj boatoj.\nSed ne fini\u011dis ilia malvenkego; \u0109ar, tiutage blovis granda ventego,\ntial la boatoj ne povis ekveturi; kaj, tiunokte ia alfluo \u015dovis la\nplej multon da la boatoj tiel alte surteron, ke ili apena\u016d povis\nsurmari\u011di, kaj la ondoj disrompis kelke da ili.\nTagi\u011don, vidante, kiel trovi\u011dis la aferoj, ia \u0109efo diris: \u201cSe ni\npermesos tiujn virojn, ke ili eniras en siajn boatojn kaj reiras, ili\nsciigos al ia ceteraj el la gentoj surkontinentaj, ke ni estas tie-\u0109i,\nkaj militoj neniam fini\u011dos tiel longe kiel ni vivos; sed, se ni ilin\ndetenos tie-\u0109i, kaj agos bone al ili, ili ne malutilos nin.\u201d Tial, por\ncertigi, ke ili ne lasu la insulon, la \u0109efo ordonis ke iom da ligno de\nseka arbo alporti\u011du, kaj bruligu la boatojn.\nTion vidante, la ru\u011duloj kuris \u0109irka\u016d ia tuta insulo kun la\u016dtaj\nkriegoj freneze, tiel ke Karlo unue ne scias kion fari pri ili; \u0109ar,\nili piedpremis la grenon, kaj el\u015diras la vinberujojn \u011duste kiam la\nvinberoj maturi\u011dis, kaj faris multe da difekta\u0135o.\nFine la \u0109efo sendis la maljunan Jafon por diri al la ru\u011daj homoj\nsialingve; ke, bone estos al ili; ke, indulgos lian vivon; ke, donos\nparton da la insulo al ili por lo\u011dejo, se ili restos la\u016dlime, kaj\ngrenon kaj rizon por planti, kaj panon por man\u011di \u011dis la rikolto.\nLa malfeli\u0109uloj treege \u011dojis, \u0109ar ili ricevas tiajn bonajn pacigojn,\nkaj ili balda\u016d lernis fari \u0109iuspecojn da objektoj el kano kaj ligno,\nkiel se\u011doj, skabeloj kaj litoj; kaj ili \u0109ion faris lerte, post kiam\ninstrui\u011dis. De tiam \u011dis mi revenis al la insulo ne vidis miaj amikoj\nsova\u011dulon.\nKiam mi a\u016ddis tiun rakonton de Karlo, mia koro frapas rapide pro la\ngrandaj dan\u011deroj, kiujn ili travivis; sed mi \u011dojis \u0109ar nun lo\u011das pace\ntiuj gentoj de la Granda Raso en tia spaceto sur mia insulo, kiu unue\nne enhavis iun krom mi.\nMi miris pro la \u015dan\u011do sur la insulo; la arboj kreski\u011dinte, dometoj\nkonstrui\u011dinte, kaj la granda parto de la tero kulturi\u011dinte. La dometo\nde Vilhelmo ja estis artverko; \u011di havas fortikajn fostojn \u0109e la\nkvaranguloj; la muroj kaj la tegmento estis faritaj el kanoj arte\nplektitaj; \u011di havas tegmenton rizpajlan, kaj grandegan folion supre\npor \u011din \u015dirmi kontra\u016d la sunbrilo.\nMi nun diris al Karlo, ke mi ne venis por forpreni lian viraron, sed\npor alkonduki homojn, kaj por alporti \u0109ion tian, kion ili bezonos, por\nke ili povu gardi siajn domojn kaj kura\u011digi iliajn korojn.\nLa morga\u016dan tagon mi faris festenegon, kaj la kuiristo de la \u015dipo\nvenis surteron por \u011din pretigi. Ni alportis kelkajn postkvaronojn da\nsalbova\u0135o kaj porka\u0135o, pelvon da pun\u0109o kaj iom da biero kaj francaj\nvinoj; Karlo donis al la kuiristo kvin kapridojn por rosti; tri,\nelsendonte al la \u015dipanaro por ke ili siaparte povu festeni fre\u015dviande\nde la terbordo.\nMi donis al la viroj tutan vestaron, amba\u016d por varmaj kaj malvarmetaj\ntagoj; robojn kaj \u015dalojn por la edzinoj; ne estas neceso por mi diri,\nkiom ili \u011dojis pro tiaj donacoj. Tiam mi elprenis sufi\u0109an provizon da\niloj; \u0109iu viro ricevante fosilon, rastilon, hakilon, levilon, segilon,\ntran\u0109ilon, armilaron kaj \u0109ion, kiom \u0109iu eble bezonos.\nVidante, ke regas bonvolo \u0109iuflanke mi kondukis surtere, la\ngejunulojn, kiujn mi anta\u016de prenis el la duonmorte de malsato. La\nknabino estis edukita zorge, kaj \u0109iuj \u015dipanoj \u015din la\u016ddas. Amba\u016d \u015di\nkaj la junulo deziris resti sur la insulo, la\u016de la franca pretro;\ntial mi donis al \u0109iu pecon da tero, sur kiu ili konstruis tendojn\nkaj garbejojn.\nMi estis alkondukita kun mi lertmetiistojn al la insulo, unu el kiuj\npovis elfari \u0109iajn aferojn, tial mi nomis lin \u201cJako de \u0108iametio.\u201d\nUnu tagon la franca pretro demandis min \u0109u mi lasos Vendredon sur la\ninsulo. \u201c\u0108ar per li,\u201d li diris, \u201cmi povus paroli al la ru\u011daj homoj\nilialingve, kaj instrui ilin pri la diaj aferoj; kaj, \u0109u estas necese,\npor mi diri, ke tio estas la ka\u016dzo, pro kiu mi venis \u0109i-tien.\u201d Mi\nsentis, ke mi ne lasus Vendredon por la tuta mondo, tial mi respondis,\nke se mi decidus lasi lin, mi estus certa, ke Vendredo ne lasus min.\nEltrovinte, ke \u0109io estas bonstata sur la insulo, mi rebonstatigis mian\n\u015dipon, por ke mi unufoje plu lasu tiun terbordon.\nIrante fine al la \u015dipo, la junulo, pri kiu mi \u0135us parolis,\nalproksimi\u011das kaj diras, \u201cSinjoro, pretron vi kondukis \u0109i-tien kun vi,\nkaj dum vi ankora\u016d \u0109eestas ni deziras la edzi\u011don de du el ni.\u201d \u015cajnis\nal mi certe, ke unu estas la junulino, kaj ke la junulo deziras edzi\u011di\nkun \u015di. Tial mi parolis iom varmvo\u0109e kaj diris al li, ke li bone\npripensu la aferon, \u0109ar la junulino ne estas edukita samrange la\u016d li.\nSed ridetante li diris, ke mi ju\u011das malprave; estas Jako de \u0108iametio,\npor kiu li petegas.\nTion a\u016ddante, mi multe \u011dojis, \u0109ar mi sciis, ke la junulino estas\nla\u016deble bona, kaj mi ju\u011dis, ke Jako estas bona; tial, samtage mi donis\n\u015din al li, por ke \u015di estu lia edzino. Ili estis havontaj pecegon da\ntero por kreskigi rikolton sur \u011di, kaj domon, kaj budojn por iliaj\nkaproj kaj provizoj.\nLa insulo nun estis planata jene: Okcidentparto resti senkultura, tiel\nke surteri\u011dante, la sova\u011daj gentoj povos veni-deiri, ne\u011demante iun.\nMalnova domo esti por la \u0109efo kaj \u0109iuj la arbeta\u0135oj nun etendante \u011dis\nla rivereto; sudparto por la blankuloj; kaj la nekulturita parto de la\ninsulo por la ru\u011duloj kies boatojn ni bruligis.\nMi pripensis, ke estas unu donaco, pri kiu mi jam ne pensis, nome la\nlibro de la Dia Vorto; kiun mi sciis, donos al ili novan forton por\nlaborado, kaj helpos al ili elporti la tentojn de la vivo. Tial mi\nordonis, ke \u0109iuj kolektu \u0109irka\u016d mi, kaj levante tiun-\u0109i \u0108eflibron, mi\ndiris, \u201c\u011cin \u015datu! \u011cin metu al la koro! \u0109ar \u011di enhavas vortojn, kiuj\nelvenis el la lipoj de Kristo nia Sinjoro, kiujn Li parolis al ni ame,\npor nin tiri al Si mem. \u011cisnune, vi ne havis tian libron sur la\ninsulo. Sendube, tiuj-\u0109i ri\u0109aj kampoj; tiuj-\u0109i ri\u0109aj rikoltoj; tiuj-\u0109i\nbrilaj ondoj, kiuj lavas la bordojn \u0109irka\u016dante vin, pruvos al vi, ke\nestas Granda Dio, Dio de amo; sed, tia evidenta\u0135o ne estas sufi\u0109o, ne\ndirante al ni pri la sa\u011deco kaj la amo de Dio; kaj nin lasas en\nmallumo pri la mondo venonta, mondo brila pro amo kaj paco; kaj, kiel\n\u011din atingi.\u201d\nNun estinte sur la insulo unu monaton; kvinan tagon de Majo mi denove\nekveturis kun mia bona Vendredo, \u0109iuj dirinte al mi, ke ili restos \u011dis\nmi revenos por forporti ilin.\nFerdeke, mi \u0135etis longan rigardon sur ilin, kaj tiam ka\u015dis mian\nviza\u011don en la manojn.\nVeturinte tri tagojn, kvankam la maro estis glata kaj trankvila, mi\nvidis, ke \u015dajnas iom nigra \u011di unuloke, kaj a\u016ddis, ke unu el la \u015dipanoj\nkrias \u201cTeron!\u201d Sciante, ke la terbordo ne estas proksima, mi ne povis\ndiveni la ka\u016dzon; tial mi ordonis la \u015dipoficiron, ke li supreniru la\nmaston \u011dispinte por eltrovi per la vidilo tion. Li malsupreniris kun\nla malbonnova\u0135o ke trovi\u011das multe da dudekoj de boatetoj plenaj je\nsova\u011duloj, rapide alproksimi\u011dantaj kun kruelegaj mienoj.\nVenante pli proksimen, mi komandis, ke la veloj estu faldataj, kaj la\n\u015dipo haltigata, kaj sciante, ke la plejmalbona\u0135o, kiun tiuj viroj\npovos fari, estus nian \u015dipon bruligi mi mallevigis la boatojn,\nalligante unu al la anta\u016da kaj unu al la posta parto de la \u015dipo.\nTiamaniere ni atendis la malamikon, kaj tempete ili nin atingis,\nintencante, mi pensis, nin \u0109irka\u016di. Unue ili ektimegis pro la grandeco\nde la \u015dipo, sed balda\u016d tiom alproksimi\u011dis, ke niaj \u015dipanoj signodonis\nlin, ke ili fori\u011du, neintence, tio ka\u016dzis batalon kun ili. Ili pafis\nsur niajn boatojn nubon da sagoj, kiujn niaj \u015dipanoj detenis per\ntabuloj por \u015dildoj. Ni ne pafis sur ilin, kaj post duonhoro ili\nfori\u011dis enmaron, kaj poste denove revenis al ni.\nMi ordonis, ke miaj \u015dipanoj ordigu la pafilojn, kaj sin ka\u015du por esti\nsendan\u011deraj pri la sagoj, se ili pafus; tiam mi sendis Vendredon sur\nla ferdekon por alvoki la sova\u011dulojn ilialingve, kaj demandi, kion ili\nintencas. Eble ili ne komprenis, kion li diras, sed tuj, kiam li\nekparolis, mi a\u016ddas lin ekkrii, ke ili estas pafontaj. Estis tro vere;\nili flugigis densan nubon da sagoj, kaj al mi estis profunda mal\u011dojo\nke Vendredo falas mortpafita. Neniu alia estis proksime, sed li estis\nmortpafita per tri sagoj, kaj tri plu falis apuden. Mi tiom\nfrenezi\u011dis, ke mi \u011dojus subakvigi \u0109iujn ilian boatojn, tial mi\nallasis, ke la viroj \u015dargis kvin pafilojn per kugleta\u0135o kaj kvin per\nkugla\u0135o, kaj mi redonis al ili tiel kruelegan pafadon, kiel ili anta\u016de\nneniam vidis.\nTiam stranga sceno montri\u011dis al niaj okuloj, kaj neniaj vortoj povas\npriskribi la teruron kaj timegon, kiuj ekkaptis ilin \u0109iujn, \u0109ar la\nplejmulto el iliaj boatoj estis fendataj kaj subakvigataj \u2014 tri a\u016d\nkvar per unu pafo. La ceteraj forveturis remileble.\nNi enprenis unu malfeli\u0109ulon, kiu na\u011dis vivsave, sed lia parolado\nestis tiel stranga, ke kornbruo la\u016d multe sciigus al mi. Unue, li ne\nvolis man\u011di a\u016d paroli, kaj timante ke li mortsopiru, por kuraci lin,\nni lin forportis boate, kaj \u0135etis en la maron, kaj signodonis al li,\nke ni ne savos lian vivon, se li ne parolos kaj man\u011dos: Li na\u011dis\n\u0109irka\u016d kaj \u0109irka\u016d la boato, kaj fine signodonis, ke li faros kiel ni\nal li ordonos, tial ni enprenis lin en la boaton.\nPost lerniginte iom da vortoj, li diris al mi, ke lia gento kaj kvar\nplu alvenis kun re\u011doj por batalegi.\n\u201cSed kial,\u201d mi diris, \u201cka\u016dzis ilin alproksimi\u011di al ni?\u201d Al tio li\nrediris, \u201cpor ke vi vidu batalegon.\u201d\nTiel, pro tio, morti\u011dis Vendredo, kiu tiomjare, estis tiel bona kaj\nfidela al mi! Mia koro mallevi\u011dis pro mal\u011dojo. Ni envolvis lin en\nmortkitelon, kaj kun profunda mal\u011dojego, entombigis lin en la maro.\nFavoran venton, ni veturis al \u0108iuj Sanktuloj Golfeto, kaj tie ni\ntrovis la unumast\u015dipon, kiu ni anta\u016de alkondukis tien de la hejmlando,\nkaj kiun mi intencis alsendi al mia insulo kun viroj kaj proviza\u0135oj,\npost kiam mi scii\u011dus, kiel trovi\u011dis \u0109io tie.\n\u0108ar unu el miaj \u015dipanoj deziregis reiri al la insulo en \u011di, mi diris,\nke \u0109iuokaze li tion faru, tial mi transdonis al li por lia sklavo la\nru\u011dulon, kiun mi havas sur la \u015dipo. Mi anka\u016d eltrovis, ke unu viro,\ntimante la eklezion Hispanujan, \u011dojus, se tie li kun edzino kaj du\nfilinoj lo\u011dus sendan\u011deraj; tial mi alkondukis ilin sur\u015dipon, kaj\nsendis kun ili tri laktobovinojn, kvin bovidojn, unu \u0109evalon, kvar\n\u0109evalidojn, kaj dudekon da porkoj: \u0109iuj, mi poste a\u016ddis, alvenis\nsendan\u011dere. Lasinte mian insulon nun por \u0109iam mi nun nenion plu diros\npri \u011di. Mia vivresta\u0135o pasi\u011dis pleje en landoj la\u016d malproksimaj de\nhejmo. De la Golfeto de \u0108iuj Sanktuloj mi veturis rekte al Bona\nEspero. Tie mi lasis la \u015dipon, por resti surtere.\nMi tuj amiki\u011dis kun diverse viroj de Francujo, kaj du Hebreoj, kiuj\nanta\u016de venis al la promontoro por komerci. Mi trovis, ke iom da\nkomerca\u0135oj, kiujn mi alportis kun mi de la hejmo multege valoras, kaj\nvendante ilin, mi gajnis multan monon, kaj mi a\u0109etis alteprezajn\n\u015dtonojn, \u0109ar tiuj postulas nur malgrandan spacon.\nPasiginte na\u016d monatojn \u0109e la Promontoro de Bona Espero, ni pensis, ke\nestus la plej bona afero, kiun ni povas fari, dungi \u015dipon, kaj\nvelveturi al la Spicaj Insuloj por a\u0109eti kariofilojn; tial ni dungis\n\u015dipon kaj virojn por \u011din veturigi, kaj ekveturis. Ni veturis de\nhaveno al haveno diverse, a\u0109etis kaj vendis komerca\u0135ojn, kaj pasigis\nses jarojn en tiu-\u0109i parto de la mondo.\nFine ni pensis, ke ni foriros kaj ser\u0109os novajn scenejojn; kaj balda\u016d\nni renkontis strangan klason da homoj, kiel vi diros, leginte tiun-\u0109i\nrakonton, kaj rigardinte la ilustra\u0135ojn.\nSurteriginte, ni a\u0109etis grandan domon kanan, kiu kavas \u0109irka\u016d \u011di altan\nkanan palisaron, por eksteradi \u015dtelistojn, da kiuj, \u015dajnis al mi,\nestas multe en tiu lando. La nomo de la urbo estas \u0108ingo, kaj ni\neltrovis, ke la foiro kiu teni\u011dis tie unu fojon \u0109iujare ne okazos \u011dis\npost tri a\u016d kvar monatoj; tial mi ordonis, ke la \u015dipo reveturu al la\nPromontoro, \u0109ar ni intencis nun restadi iom da tempo en tiu parto de\nla mondo, por iri \u0109irka\u016drigardante de loko al loko, kaj poste reveni\nal la foiro de \u0108ingo.\nMi unue iris al urbo tre vidinda, iom de la terbordo, konstruis kun\nrektaj stratoj kvadratangule.\nSed mi devas diri, ke reveninte al mia naski\u011da lando, mi miregis pro\nla flata\u0135o de miaj konatoj pri la ri\u0109eco kaj komerco tiuparto monda,\n\u0109ar, mi trovis, ke la viroj estas nur amaso da sklava\u0109oj, kiuj povas\nfanfaroni nur pro malmulto da artoj a\u016d lerta\u0135oj, kaj ke iliaj manieroj\nestas preska\u016d tiel krudaj kiel tiuj de la ru\u011daj homoj, kiujn mi lasis\nsur mia insulo.\nKia estas ilia komerco kompare al la nia, a\u016d de Francujo a\u016d Hispanujo?\nKiaj estas iliaj havenoj kun malmulto da \u0135onkoj kaj barkoj, kompare al\nniaj multenombroj \u015diparoj? Unu el niaj milit\u015dipoj povus subakvigi\n\u0109iujn iliajn \u015dipetojn, unu vico da Francaj soldatoj venkus \u0109iujn\niliajn bravulojn; mi estas dirota la samon pri iliaj havenurboj, kiuj\nne povos elteni unu momenton tian sie\u011don, kia ni sie\u011dus ilin. Post tri\nsemajnoj ni venis al ilia \u0109efurbo, kie ni havigis grandan provizon da\nteo, ventumiloj, \u015daloj, pletoj, kaj kruda silko, kion ni metis sur la\ndorsojn de niaj muloj, kaj ekiris norden. Estis kun ni kelke da ri\u0109aj\nSkotoj, kiuj venis tien por komerci.\nSciante, ke survoje ni eble renkontus \u0109iuspecajn riskojn, ni kunprenis\nviraron por deteni la sova\u011dularon, vagante de loko al loko tra la tuta\nlando. Ni havis kvin gvidistojn, kaj \u0109iujn niajn monerojn ni kunmetis\nen unu monujon por a\u0109eti nutra\u0135on survoje, kaj por pagi niajn\ngvidistojn.\nNi elektis \u0109efon por komandi, se estus necese batali por la vivo, kaj\nni multe bezonis lian lertecon.\n\u0108iuflanke, ni vidis homojn fabrikante tasojn, pelvojn, kaj botelegojn\n\u0109iaforme elpenseble el bela argilo, kaj tio estas la argila\u0135o, kiu\nhavas tian famon: la \u0109efkomerca\u0135o en tiuparto monda.\nUnu objekton, diris la gvidisto, li montros al mi, kiun oni ne povas\nvidi aliloke (kaj kiun mi vere ne povis ridmoki, kiel pri multaj\naferoj, kiujn mi vidis tie), jen estas domo tute konstruita el sama\u0135o\nla\u016d la teleroj kaj tasoj, kiujn ni uzas, sed multe pli bela. \u201cKiel\ngranda estas tiu-\u0109i domo?\u201d mi demandis, \u201c\u0108u ni povas meti \u011din sur\nmuldorson?\u201d \u201cSur muldorson!\u201d respondis la gvidisto, \u201cJa, du dekoj da\nhomoj lo\u011das en \u011di.\u201d Tiam li kondukis nin por vidi tiun-\u0109i strangan\nvida\u0135on, kiu vere estas granda domo, konstruita per palisetoj, sur\nkiuj estis pendigitaj plata\u0135ojn el la plej bona materialo, kiun oni\npovas fari el argilo. \u011ci havas brilan glazuron sur \u011di, kiu brilas en\nla sunlumo kvaza\u016d vitro. \u0108e la flankoj de la domo estas folioj kaj\nhelikformaj ornamoj, pentritaj per blua kolorilo, kaj la \u0109ambraj muroj\nestis faritaj el malgrandaj platoj en \u0109ianuanca ru\u011daj, bluaj, kaj\nverdaj koloroj, kun iom da oro sur ili diverse tre strangforme, sed\nfarita bonguste; kaj \u0109ar la sama speco de argilo estis uzita por\nkunigi la platojn, oni ne povas vidi, kie ili kuni\u011das. La plankoj de\n\u0109iuj \u0109ambroj estas sama\u0135oj, kiel anka\u016d la tegmento, sed tiu-\u0109i estas\ntute nigra por deteni la varmegon de la sunradioj. Se mi havus pli\nmulte da tempo, mi estus \u011dojinta vidante plu pri tiu-\u0109i stranga loko,\n\u0109ar estas fi\u015dlagetoj, aleoj kaj kortoj, \u0109iuj faritaj simile.\nTiu stranga vida\u0135o min detenis du horojn de miaj kunuloj; reveninte al\nili, mi pagis punmonon al nia \u0109efo, \u0109ar li kaj la ceteraj tiel longe\natendis pro mi; ja ni multe riskis, ne restinte kun la ceteraj.\nPost du tagoj ni atingis la Grandan Muron, kiu estis konstruita kiel\nfortika\u0135o por gardi la landon kontra\u016d la sova\u011dularoj, libere vagantaj\ntra la ebena\u0135oj okcidente. \u011ci sin etendas la tutan longecon de la\nlando, kaj turnas, kaj tordas, kaj estas tiel alta, ke estas supozita,\nke malamikoj \u011din ne povus suprenrampi; se tiel, nenia muro ilin povus\nhalti.\nNia \u0109efo permesis, ke kelkaj el ni iru por \u0109asi, kiel ili \u011din nomas,\nsed kio estas tie por \u0109asi krom \u015dafoj! Sed estante sova\u011daj kaj\nrapidaj, ili ne estas malbona \u0109asa\u0135o, kiel balda\u016d montri\u011dis; ili iras\narege.\nDum tiu-\u0109i \u0109aso ni renkontis kelkajn sova\u011dularojn, pri kiuj mi jam\nparolis. Bandoj da ili vagas de loko al loko, por rabi kaj mortigi\n\u0109iujn, kiujn ili renkontas. Ili ne konas lertmilitadon, nek\nstrategion, iliaj armiloj estas nebonaj; iliaj \u0109evaloj nur malbonaj,\nmalgrasaj bestoj; tute ne ta\u016dgaj por tedlaboro.\nTuj kiam tiuj viroj nin ekvidis, ili kornblovas kelke da notoj, kies\nsono estis tute nova al mi. Ni pensis, ke ili alvokis siajn anojn al\nsi, kaj, tiel estas; \u0109ar, balda\u016d, la\u016da bando venis por kunigi kun ili,\nkaj la\u016d mia opinio \u0109iuj estis malproksimaj mejle.\nTuj kiam unu el la Skotoj, kiuj estas kun ni, a\u016ddis la kornblovegon,\nli diris, ke ne perdu tempon sed staru en vicon, kaj ilin ataku. Mi\ndiris al li, ke ni batalos la friponojn, se li nin komandus.\nNe vici\u011dante, ili staris disamase, kaj rigardis nin sova\u011de. Sed\nvidante, ke ni atakos, ili pafis sagojn, kiuj kvankam boncelite, nin\nne atingas. Ni haltis por pafi, tiam alrajdis la\u016deble por ataki ilin,\nglavon enmane, komanditaj de la kura\u011da Skoto.\nTuj kiam ni atingis ilin, ili kuregis dekstren kaj maldekstren, sed\ntri el ili, \u0109iu havante glavegon, sin defendis kaj la\u016deble penis\nrevoki la ceterajn. Nia Skoto rajdadis proksimen al ili, kaj\npafiltenile de\u0135etis unu de lia \u0109evalo, mortpafis alian, kaj la tria\nforkuris. Tiel fini\u011dis la batalo. \u0108io kion ni perdis, estis la\n\u015daf\u0109asa\u0135o; neniu estis vundita.\nTiamaniere ni iris de loko al loko; fine voja\u011dis al la \u0109efurbo de la\nnordaj maroj, \u011duste unu kaj duonon jarojn de kiam ni lasis \u0108ingon.\nFine mi en\u015dipi\u011dis por mia hejmlando, kiun mi lasis anta\u016d dek jaroj,\nna\u016d monatoj kaj tri tagoj.\nKaj nun mi finos tiun-\u0109i historion pri mia vivo. Havante la a\u011don de\ntri dudekojn da jaroj, mi sentas, ke alvenas la tago, pri kiu mi\npre\u011das, mi eniros en la maron de paco kaj amo, kiu ne havas ondojn a\u016d\nbordojn escepte tiujn de feli\u0109eco senfina.\nLA FINO.\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robinsono Kruso, by Daniel Defo\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBINSONO KRUSO ***\n***** This file should be named 11511-0.txt or 11511-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\n        https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/5/1/11511/\nProduced by Darold Booton, David Starner and William W. Patterson\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\nwill be renamed.\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Tom Allen, Charles Franks and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team\nCAPTAIN SINGLETON\nBy Daniel Defoe\nWith An Introduction By Edward Garnett\n[Transcriber's Note: In the print copy, the following words and those of\nthe title page are written in intricate, illuminated calligraphy.]\nA TALE WHICH HOLDETH CHILDREN FROM PLAY AND OLD MEN FROM THE CHIMNEY\nCORNER\nSIR PHILIP SIDNEY\nTHE LIFE ADVENTURES AND PIRACIES OF THE FAMOUS CAPTAIN SINGLETON\nPREFACE\nThat all Defoe's novels, with the exception of \"Robinson Crusoe,\" should\nhave been covered with the dust of neglect for many generations, is a\nplain proof of how much fashions in taste affect the popularity of the\nBritish classics. It is true that three generations or so ago, Defoe's\nworks were edited by both Sir Walter Scott and Hazlitt, and that this\nmasterly piece of realism, \"Captain Singleton,\" was reprinted a few\nyears back in \"The Camelot Classics,\" but it is safe to say that out of\nevery thousand readers of \"Robinson Crusoe\" only one or two will\nhave even heard of the \"Memoirs of a Cavalier,\" \"Colonel Jack,\" \"Moll\nFlanders,\" or \"Captain Singleton.\" It is indeed distressing to think\nthat while many scores of thousands of copies of Lord Lytton's flashy\nromance, \"Paul Clifford,\" have been devoured by the public, \"Captain\nSingleton\" has remained unread and almost forgotten. But the explanation\nis simple. Defoe's plain and homely realism soon grew to be thought\nvulgar by people who themselves aspired to be refined and genteel. The\nrapid spread of popular education, in the middle of last century, was\nresponsible for a great many aberrations of taste, and the works of the\ntwo most English of Englishmen, Defoe and Hogarth, were judged to be\nhardly fitting for polite society, as we may see from Lamb's Essay on\nHogarth, and from an early edition of Chambers's \"Cyclopaedia of English\nLiterature\" (1843), where we are told: \"Nor is it needful to show how\nelegant and reflective literature, especially, tends to moralise, to\nsoften, and to adorn the soul and life of man.\" \"Unfortunately the\ntaste or _circumstances of Defoe led him mostly into low life_, and his\ncharacters are such _as we cannot sympathise with_. The whole arcana\nof roguery and villany seems to have been open to him.... It might be\nthought that the good taste which led Defoe to write in a style of such\npure and unpretending English, instead of the inflated manner of vulgar\nwriters, _would have dictated a more careful selection of his subjects_,\nand kept him from wandering so frequently into the low and disgusting\npurlieus of vice. But this moral and tasteful discrimination seems to\nhave been wholly wanting,\" &c. The 'forties were the days when critics\nstill talked learnedly of the \"noble style,\" &c., \"the vulgar,\" of\n\"sinking\" or \"rising\" with \"the subject,\" the days when Books of Beauty\nwere in fashion, and Rembrandt's choice of beggars, wrinkled faces and\ngrey hairs, for his favourite subjects seemed a low and reprehensible\ntaste in \"high art.\" Though critics to-day still ingenuously confound an\nartist's subject with his treatment of it, and prefer scenes of life to\nbe idealised rather than realised by writers, we have advanced a little\nsince the days of the poet Montgomery, and it would be difficult now\nto find anybody writing so confidently--\"Unfortunately the taste or\ncircumstances of Defoe led him mostly into low life,\" however much the\ncritic might believe it. But let us glance at a few passages in \"Captain\nSingleton,\" which may show us why Defoe excels as a realist, and why\nhis descriptions of \"low life\" are artistically as perfect as any\ndescriptions of \"higher life\" in the works of the English novelists.\nTake the following description of kidnapping:--\n  \"The woman pretending to take me up in her arms and kiss me, and\n  play with me, draws the girl a good way from the house, till at\n  last she makes a fine story to the girl, and bids her go back to\n  the maid, and tell her where she was with the child; that a\n  gentlewoman had taken a fancy to the child and was kissing it, but\n  she should not be frightened, or to that purpose; for they were\n  but just there; and so while the girl went, she carried me quite\n  away.--Page 2.\nNow here, in a single sentence, Defoe catches for us the whole soul\nand character of the situation. It _seems_ very simple, but it sums up\nmarvellously an exact observation and knowledge of the arts of the gipsy\nchild-stealer, of her cunning flattery and brassy boldness, and we can\nsee the simple little girl running back to the house to tell the nurse\nthat a fine lady was kissing the child, and had told her to tell where\nthey were and she should not be frightened, &c.; and this picture again\ncalls up the hue and cry after the kidnappers and the fruitless hopes of\nthe parents. In a word, Defoe has condensed in the eight simple lines of\nhis little scene all that is essential to its living truth; and let the\nyoung writer note that it is ever the sign of the master to do in three\nwords, or with three strokes, what the ordinary artist does in thirty.\nDefoe's imagination is so extraordinarily comprehensive in picking out\njust those little matter-of-fact details that suggest all the other\naspects, and that emphasise the character of the scene or situation,\nthat he makes us believe in the actuality of whatever he is describing.\nSo real, so living in every detail is this apocryphal narrative, in\n\"Captain Singleton,\" of the crossing of Africa by a body of marooned\nsailors from the coast of Mozambique to the Gold Coast, that one would\nfirmly believe Defoe was committing to writing the verbal narrative of\nsome adventurer in the flesh, if it were not for certain passages--such\nas the description of the impossible desert on page 90, which proves\nthat Defoe was piecing together his description of an imaginary\njourney from the geographical records and travellers' tales of his\ncontemporaries, aided perhaps by the confused yarns of some sailor\nfriends. How substantially truthful in spirit and in detail is Defoe's\naccount of Madagascar is proved by the narrative of Robert Drury's\n\"Captivity in Madagascar,\" published in 1729. The natives themselves,\nas described intimately by Drury, who lived amongst them for many years,\nwould produce just such an effect as Defoe describes on rough sailors in\ntheir perilous position. The method by which Defoe compels us to accept\nimprobabilities, and lulls our critical sense asleep, is well shown in\nthe following passages:--\n  \"Thieving, lying, swearing, forswearing, joined to the most\n  abominable lewdness, was the stated practice of the ship's crew;\n  adding to it, that with the most unsufferable boasts of their own\n  courage, they were, generally speaking, the most complete cowards\n  that I ever met with.\"--Page 7.\n  \"All the seamen in a body came up to the rail of the quarter-deck,\n  where the captain was walking with some of his officers, and\n  appointing the boatswain to speak for them, he went up, and falling\n  on his knees to the captain, begged of him in the humblest manner\n  possible, to receive the four men on board again, offering to answer\n  for their fidelity, or to have them kept in chains, till they came\n  to Lisbon, and there to be delivered up to justice, rather than, as\n  they said, to have them left, to be murdered by savages, or devoured\n  by wild beasts. It was a great while ere the captain took any notice\n  of them, but when he did, he ordered the boatswain to be seized, and\n  threatened to bring him to the capstan for speaking for them....\n  Upon this severity, one of the seamen, bolder than the rest, but\n  still with all possible respect to the captain, besought his honour,\n  as he called him, that he would give leave to some more of them to\n  go on shore, and die with their companions, or, if possible, to\n  assist them to resist the barbarians.\"--Page 18.\nNow the first passage we have quoted about the cowardice, &c., of the\nPortuguese crew is not in keeping with the second passage, which shows\nthe men as \"wishing to die with their companions\"; but so actual is\nthe scene of the seamen \"in a body coming up to the rail of the\nquarter-deck,\" that we cannot but believe the thing happened so, just as\nwe believe in all the thousand little details of the imaginary narrative\nof \"Robinson Crusoe.\" This feat of the imagination Defoe strengthens\nin the most artful manner, by putting in the mouths of his characters\nvarious reflections to substantiate the narrative. For example, in the\ndescription, on page 263, of the savages who lined the perilous channel\nin a half-moon, where the European ship lay, we find the afterthoughts\nare added so naturally, that they would carry conviction to any judge or\njury:--\n  \"They little thought what service they had done us, and how\n  unwittingly, and by the greatest ignorance, they had made\n  themselves pilots to us, while we, having not sounded the place,\n  might have been lost before we were aware. _It is true we might\n  have sounded our new harbour, before we had ventured out; but I\n  cannot say for certain, whether we should or not; for I, for my\n  part, had not the least suspicion of what our real case was;\n  however, I say, perhaps, before we had weighed, we should have\n  looked about us a little._\"\nTurning to the other literary qualities that make Defoe's novels great,\nif little read, classics, how delightful are the little satiric touches\nthat add grave weight to the story. Consider the following: \"My good\ngipsy mother, for some of her worthy actions, no doubt, happened in\nprocess of time to be hanged, and as this fell out something too soon\nfor me to be perfected in the strolling trade,\" &c.(p. 3). Every other\nword here is dryly satiric, and the large free callousness and careless\nbrutality of Defoe's days with regard to the life of criminals is\nconveyed in half a sentence. And what an amount of shrewd observation is\nsummed up in this one saying: \"Upon these foundations, William said he\nwas satisfied we might trust them; for, says William, I would as soon\ntrust a man whose interest binds him to be just to me, as a man whose\nprinciple binds himself\" (p. 227). Extremely subtle is also this remark:\n\"_Why, says I, did you ever know a pirate repent?_ At this he started a\nlittle and returned, _At the gallows_ I have known _one_ repent, and\nI _hope_ thou wilt be the second.\" The character of William the Quaker\npirate is a masterpiece of shrewd humour. He is the first Quaker brought\ninto English fiction, and we know of no other Friend in latter-day\nfiction to equal him. Defoe in his inimitable manner has defined surely\nand deftly the peculiar characteristics of the sect in this portrait. On\nthree separate occasions we find William saving unfortunate natives\nor defenceless prisoners from the cruel and wicked barbarity of\nthe sailors. At page 183, for example, the reader will find a most\npenetrating analysis of the dense stupidity which so often accompanies\nman's love of bloodshed. The sketch of the second lieutenant, who was\nfor \"murdering the negroes to make them tell,\" when he could not make\nthem even understand what he wanted, is worthy of Tolstoy. We have not\nspace here to dwell upon the scores of passages of similar deep insight\nwhich make \"Captain Singleton\" a most true and vivid commentary on the\nlife of Defoe's times, but we may call special attention to the passage\non page 189 which describe the sale of the negroes to the planters; to\nthe description of the awakening of the conscience of Captain Singleton\nthrough terror at the fire-cloud (page 222); and to the extraordinarily\npicturesque conversation between William and the captive Dutchman (page\n264). Finally, if the reader wishes to taste Defoe's flavour in its\nperfection let him examine carefully those passages in the concluding\ntwenty pages of the book, wherein Captain Singleton is shown as\nawakening to the wickedness of his past life, and the admirable dry\nreasoning of William by which the Quaker prevents him from committing\nsuicide and persuades him to keep his ill-gotten wealth, \"with a\nresolution to do what right with it we are able; and who knows what\nopportunity Providence may put into our hands.... As it is without\ndoubt, our present business is to go to some place of safety, where we\nmay wait His will.\" How admirable is the passage about William's sister,\nthe widow with four children who kept a little shop in the Minories,\nand that in which the penitent ex-pirates are shown us as hesitating in\nVenice for two years before they durst venture to England for fear of\nthe gallows.\n\"Captain Singleton\" was published in 1720, a year after \"Robinson\nCrusoe,\" when Defoe was fifty-nine. Twenty years before had seen \"The\nTrue-Born Englishman\" and \"The Shortest Way with the Dissenters\"; and\nwe are told that from \"June 1687 to almost the very week of his death in\n1731 a stream of controversial books and pamphlets poured from his\npen commenting upon and marking every important passing event.\" The\nfecundity of Defoe as a journalist alone surpasses that of any great\njournalist we can name, William Cobbett not excepted, and we may add\nthat the style of \"Captain Singleton,\" like that of \"Robinson Crusoe,\"\nis so perfect that there is not a single ineffective passage, or indeed\na weak sentence, to be found in the book.\nEDWARD GARNETT.\nThe following is a list of Defoe's works: \"New Discovery of Old\nIntrigue\" (verse), 1691. \"Character of Dr. Samuel Annesley\" (verse),\n1697. \"The Pacificator\" (verse), 1700. \"True-Born Englishman\" (verse),\n1701. \"The Mock Mourners\" (verse), 1702. \"Reformation of Manners\"\n(verse), 1702. \"New Test of Church of England's Loyalty,\" 1702.\n\"Shortest Way with the Dissenters,\" 1702. \"Ode to the Athenian\nSociety,\" 1703. \"Enquiry into Acgill's General Translation,\" 1703. \"More\nReformation\" (verse), 1703. \"Hymn to the Pillory,\" 1703. \"The\nStorm\" (Tale), 1704. \"Layman's Sermon on the Late Storm,\" 1704. \"The\nConsolidator; or, Memoirs of Sundry Transactions from the World in the\nMoon,\" 1704. \"Elegy on Author of 'True-Born Englishman,'\" 1704. \"Hymn\nto Victory,\" 1704. \"Giving Alms no Charity,\" 1704. \"The Dyet of\nPoland\" (verse), 1705. \"Apparition of Mrs. Veal,\" 1706. \"Sermon on the\nFilling-up of Dr. Burgess's Meeting-house,\" 1706. \"Jure Divino\"\n(verse), 1706. \"Caledonia\" (verse), 1706. \"History of the Union of\nGreat Britain,\" 1709. \"Short Enquiry into a Late Duel,\" 1713. \"A General\nHistory of Trade,\" 1713. \"Wars of Charles III.,\" 1715. \"The Family\nInstruction\" (two eds.), 1715. \"Hymn to the Mob,\" 1715. \"Memoirs of\nthe Church of Scotland,\" 1717. \"Life and Death of Count Patkul,\" 1717.\n\"Memoirs of Duke of Shrewsbury,\" 1718. \"Memoirs of Daniel Williams,\"\n1718. \"The Life and Strange Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of\nYork, Mariner,\" 1719. \"The Farther Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,\" 1719.\n\"The Dumb Philosopher: or, Great Britain's Wonder,\" 1719. \"The King of\nPirates\" (Capt. Avery), 1719. \"Life of Baron de Goertz,\" 1719. \"Life and\nAdventures of Duncan Campbell,\" 1720. \"Mr. Campbell's Pacquet,\" 1720.\n\"Memoirs of a Cavalier,\" 1720. \"Life of Captain Singleton,\" 1720.\n\"Serious Reflections during the Life and Surprising Adventures of\nRobinson Crusoe,\" 1720. \"The Supernatural Philosopher; or, The Mysteries\nof Magick,\" 1720. Translation of Du Fresnoy's \"Compleat Art of Painting\"\n(verse), 1720. \"Moll Flanders,\" 1722, \"Journal of the Plague Year,\"\n1722. \"Due Preparations for the Plague,\" 1722. \"Life of Cartouche,\"\n1722. \"History of Colonel Jacque,\" 1722. \"Religious Courtship,\" 1722.\n\"History of Peter the Great,\" 1723. \"The Highland Rogue\" (Rob Roy),\n1723. \"The Fortunate Mistress\" (Roxana), 1724. \"Narrative of Murders at\nCalais,\" 1724. \"Life of John Sheppard,\" 1724. \"Robberies, Escapes,\n&c., of John Sheppard,\" 1724. \"The Great Law of Subordination; or, The\nInsolence and Insufferable Behaviour of Servants in England,\" 1724. \"A\nTour through Great Britain,\" 1724-6. \"New Voyage Round the World,\"\n1725. \"Account of Jonathan Wild,\" 1725. \"Account of John Gow,\" 1725.\n\"Everybody's Business is Nobody's Business\" (on Servants), 1725. \"The\nComplete English Tradesman,\" 1725; vol. ii., 1727. \"The Friendly Demon,\"\n1726. \"Mere Nature Delineated\" (Peter the Wild Boy), 1726. \"Political\nHistory of the Devil,\" 1726. \"Essay upon Literature and the Original\nof Letters,\" 1726. \"History of Discoveries,\" 1726-7. \"The Protestant\nMonastery,\" 1726. \"A System of Magic,\" 1726. \"Parochial Tyranny,\" 1727.\n\"Treatise concerning Use and Abuse of Marriage,\" 1727. \"Secrets of\nInvisible World Discovered; or, History and Reality of Apparitions,\"\n1727, 1728. \"A New Family Instructor,\" 1728. \"Augusta Triumphans,\" 1728.\n\"Plan of English Commerce,\" 1728. \"Second Thoughts are Best\" (on Street\nRobberies), 1728. \"Street Robberies Considered,\" 1728. \"Humble Proposal\nto People of England for Increase of Trade, &c.,\" 1729. \"Preface to\nR. Dodsley's Poem 'Servitude'\" 1729. \"Effectual Scheme for Preventing\nStreet Robberies,\" 1731.\nBesides the above-named publications a large number of further tracts by\nDefoe are extant, on matters of Politics and Church.\nTHE LIFE, ADVENTURES, AND PIRACIES OF CAPTAIN SINGLETON\nAs it is usual for great persons, whose lives have been remarkable, and\nwhose actions deserve recording to posterity, to insist much upon their\noriginals, give full accounts of their families, and the histories of\ntheir ancestors, so, that I may be methodical, I shall do the same,\nthough I can look but a very little way into my pedigree, as you will\nsee presently.\nIf I may believe the woman whom I was taught to call mother, I was\na little boy, of about two years old, very well dressed, had a\nnursery-maid to attend me, who took me out on a fine summer's evening\ninto the fields towards Islington, as she pretended, to give the child\nsome air; a little girl being with her, of twelve or fourteen years old,\nthat lived in the neighbourhood. The maid, whether by appointment or\notherwise, meets with a fellow, her sweetheart, as I suppose; he carries\nher into a public-house, to give her a pot and a cake; and while they\nwere toying in the house the girl plays about, with me in her hand, in\nthe garden and at the door, sometimes in sight, sometimes out of sight,\nthinking no harm.\nAt this juncture comes by one of those sort of people who, it seems,\nmade it their business to spirit away little children. This was a\nhellish trade in those days, and chiefly practised where they found\nlittle children very well dressed, or for bigger children, to sell them\nto the plantations.\nThe woman, pretending to take me up in her arms and kiss me, and play\nwith me, draws the girl a good way from the house, till at last she\nmakes a fine story to the girl, and bids her go back to the maid, and\ntell her where she was with the child; that a gentlewoman had taken\na fancy to the child, and was kissing of it, but she should not be\nfrighted, or to that purpose; for they were but just there; and so,\nwhile the girl went, she carries me quite away.\nFrom this time, it seems, I was disposed of to a beggar woman that\nwanted a pretty little child to set out her case; and after that, to\na gipsy, under whose government I continued till I was about six years\nold. And this woman, though I was continually dragged about with her\nfrom one part of the country to another, yet never let me want for\nanything; and I called her mother; though she told me at last she was\nnot my mother, but that she bought me for twelve shillings of another\nwoman, who told her how she came by me, and told her that my name was\nBob Singleton, not Robert, but plain Bob; for it seems they never knew\nby what name I was christened.\nIt is in vain to reflect here, what a terrible fright the careless hussy\nwas in that lost me; what treatment she received from my justly enraged\nfather and mother, and the horror these must be in at the thoughts of\ntheir child being thus carried away; for as I never knew anything of the\nmatter, but just what I have related, nor who my father and mother were,\nso it would make but a needless digression to talk of it here.\nMy good gipsy mother, for some of her worthy actions no doubt, happened\nin process of time to be hanged; and as this fell out something too soon\nfor me to be perfected in the strolling trade, the parish where I was\nleft, which for my life I can't remember, took some care of me, to be\nsure; for the first thing I can remember of myself afterwards, was, that\nI went to a parish school, and the minister of the parish used to talk\nto me to be a good boy; and that, though I was but a poor boy, if I\nminded my book, and served God, I might make a good man.\nI believe I was frequently removed from one town to another, perhaps as\nthe parishes disputed my supposed mother's last settlement. Whether I\nwas so shifted by passes, or otherwise, I know not; but the town where\nI last was kept, whatever its name was, must be not far off from the\nseaside; for a master of a ship who took a fancy to me, was the first\nthat brought me to a place not far from Southampton, which I afterwards\nknew to be Bussleton; and there I attended the carpenters, and such\npeople as were employed in building a ship for him; and when it was\ndone, though I was not above twelve years old, he carried me to sea with\nhim on a voyage to Newfoundland.\nI lived well enough, and pleased my master so well that he called me his\nown boy; and I would have called him father, but he would not allow it,\nfor he had children of his own. I went three or four voyages with him,\nand grew a great sturdy boy, when, coming home again from the banks of\nNewfoundland, we were taken by an Algerine rover, or man-of-war; which,\nif my account stands right, was about the year 1695, for you may be sure\nI kept no journal.\nI was not much concerned at the disaster, though I saw my master, after\nhaving been wounded by a splinter in the head during the engagement,\nvery barbarously used by the Turks; I say, I was not much concerned,\ntill, upon some unlucky thing I said, which, as I remember, was about\nabusing my master, they took me and beat me most unmercifully with a\nflat stick on the soles of my feet, so that I could neither go or stand\nfor several days together.\nBut my good fortune was my friend upon this occasion; for, as they were\nsailing away with our ship in tow as a prize, steering for the Straits,\nand in sight of the bay of Cadiz, the Turkish rover was attacked by two\ngreat Portuguese men-of-war, and taken and carried into Lisbon.\nAs I was not much concerned at my captivity, not indeed understanding\nthe consequences of it, if it had continued, so I was not suitably\nsensible of my deliverance; nor, indeed, was it so much a deliverance\nto me as it would otherwise have been, for my master, who was the only\nfriend I had in the world, died at Lisbon of his wounds; and I being\nthen almost reduced to my primitive state, viz., of starving, had this\naddition to it, that it was in a foreign country too, where I knew\nnobody and could not speak a word of their language. However, I fared\nbetter here than I had reason to expect; for when all the rest of our\nmen had their liberty to go where they would, I, that knew not whither\nto go, stayed in the ship for several days, till at length one of the\nlieutenants seeing me, inquired what that young English dog did there,\nand why they did not turn him on shore.\nI heard him, and partly understood what he meant, though not what he\nsaid, and began then to be in a terrible fright; for I knew not where to\nget a bit of bread; when the pilot of the ship, an old seaman, seeing me\nlook very dull, came to me, and speaking broken English to me, told me\nI must be gone. \"Whither must I go?\" said I. \"Where you will,\" said he,\n\"home to your own country, if you will.\" \"How must I go thither?\" said\nI. \"Why, have you no friend?\" said he. \"No,\" said I, \"not in the world,\nbut that dog,\" pointing to the ship's dog (who, having stolen a piece\nof meat just before, had brought it close by me, and I had taken it\nfrom him, and ate it), \"for he has been a good friend, and brought me my\ndinner.\"\n\"Well, well,\" says he, \"you must have your dinner. Will you go with me?\"\n\"Yes,\" says I, \"with all my heart.\" In short, the old pilot took me home\nwith him, and used me tolerably well, though I fared hard enough; and I\nlived with him about two years, during which time he was soliciting his\nbusiness, and at length got to be master or pilot under Don Garcia de\nPimentesia de Carravallas, captain of a Portuguese galleon or carrack,\nwhich was bound to Goa, in the East Indies; and immediately having\ngotten his commission, put me on board to look after his cabin, in\nwhich he had stored himself with abundance of liquors, succades, sugar,\nspices, and other things, for his accommodation in the voyage, and laid\nin afterwards a considerable quantity of European goods, fine lace and\nlinen; and also baize, woollen cloth, stuffs, &c., under the pretence of\nhis clothes.\nI was too young in the trade to keep any journal of this voyage, though\nmy master, who was, for a Portuguese, a pretty good artist, prompted me\nto it; but my not understanding the language was one hindrance; at least\nit served me for an excuse. However, after some time, I began to look\ninto his charts and books; and, as I could write a tolerable hand,\nunderstood some Latin, and began to have a little smattering of\nthe Portuguese tongue, so I began to get a superficial knowledge of\nnavigation, but not such as was likely to be sufficient to carry me\nthrough a life of adventure, as mine was to be. In short, I learned\nseveral material things in this voyage among the Portuguese; I learned\nparticularly to be an arrant thief and a bad sailor; and I think I may\nsay they are the best masters for teaching both these of any nation in\nthe world.\nWe made our way for the East Indies, by the coast of Brazil; not that it\nis in the course of sailing the way thither, but our captain, either\non his own account, or by the direction of the merchants, went thither\nfirst, where at All Saints' Bay, or, as they call it in Portugal, the\nRio de Todos los Santos, we delivered near a hundred tons of goods, and\ntook in a considerable quantity of gold, with some chests of sugar, and\nseventy or eighty great rolls of tobacco, every roll weighing at least a\nhundredweight.\nHere, being lodged on shore by my master's order, I had the charge\nof the captain's business, he having seen me very diligent for my own\nmaster; and in requital for his mistaken confidence, I found means to\nsecure, that is to say, to steal, about twenty moidores out of the\ngold that was shipped on board by the merchants, and this was my first\nadventure.\nWe had a tolerable voyage from hence to the Cape de Bona Speranza; and\nI was reputed as a mighty diligent servant to my master, and very\nfaithful. I was diligent indeed, but I was very far from honest;\nhowever, they thought me honest, which, by the way, was their very great\nmistake. Upon this very mistake the captain took a particular liking to\nme, and employed me frequently on his own occasion; and, on the other\nhand, in recompense for my officious diligence, I received several\nparticular favours from him; particularly, I was, by the captain's\ncommand, made a kind of a steward under the ship's steward, for such\nprovisions as the captain demanded for his own table. He had another\nsteward for his private stores besides, but my office concerned only\nwhat the captain called for of the ship's stores for his private use.\nHowever, by this means I had opportunity particularly to take care of my\nmaster's man, and to furnish myself with sufficient provisions to make\nme live much better than the other people in the ship; for the captain\nseldom ordered anything out of the ship's stores, as above, but I snipt\nsome of it for my own share. We arrived at Goa, in the East Indies, in\nabout seven months from Lisbon, and remained there eight more; during\nwhich time I had indeed nothing to do, my master being generally on\nshore, but to learn everything that is wicked among the Portuguese, a\nnation the most perfidious and the most debauched, the most insolent and\ncruel, of any that pretend to call themselves Christians, in the world.\nThieving, lying, swearing, forswearing, joined to the most abominable\nlewdness, was the stated practice of the ship's crew; adding to it,\nthat, with the most insufferable boasts of their own courage, they were,\ngenerally speaking, the most complete cowards that I ever met with;\nand the consequence of their cowardice was evident upon many occasions.\nHowever, there was here and there one among them that was not so bad\nas the rest; and, as my lot fell among them, it made me have the most\ncontemptible thoughts of the rest, as indeed they deserved.\nI was exactly fitted for their society indeed; for I had no sense of\nvirtue or religion upon me. I had never heard much of either, except\nwhat a good old parson had said to me when I was a child of about eight\nor nine years old; nay, I was preparing and growing up apace to be as\nwicked as anybody could be, or perhaps ever was. Fate certainly thus\ndirected my beginning, knowing that I had work which I had to do in the\nworld, which nothing but one hardened against all sense of honesty\nor religion could go through; and yet, even in this state of original\nwickedness, I entertained such a settled abhorrence of the abandoned\nvileness of the Portuguese, that I could not but hate them most heartily\nfrom the beginning, and all my life afterwards. They were so brutishly\nwicked, so base and perfidious, not only to strangers but to one\nanother, so meanly submissive when subjected, so insolent, or barbarous\nand tyrannical, when superior, that I thought there was something in\nthem that shocked my very nature. Add to this that it is natural to an\nEnglishman to hate a coward, it all joined together to make the devil\nand a Portuguese equally my aversion.\nHowever, according to the English proverb, he that is shipped with the\ndevil must sail with the devil; I was among them, and I managed myself\nas well as I could. My master had consented that I should assist the\ncaptain in the office, as above; but, as I understood afterwards that\nthe captain allowed my master half a moidore a month for my service, and\nthat he had my name upon the ship's books also, I expected that when\nthe ship came to be paid four months' wages at the Indies, as they, it\nseems, always do, my master would let me have something for myself.\nBut I was wrong in my man, for he was none of that kind; he had taken\nme up as in distress, and his business was to keep me so, and make his\nmarket of me as well as he could, which I began to think of after a\ndifferent manner than I did at first, for at first I thought he had\nentertained me in mere charity, upon seeing my distressed circumstances,\nbut did not doubt but when he put me on board the ship, I should have\nsome wages for my service.\nBut he thought, it seems, quite otherwise; and when I procured one to\nspeak to him about it, when the ship was paid at Goa, he flew into the\ngreatest rage imaginable, and called me English dog, young heretic, and\nthreatened to put me into the Inquisition. Indeed, of all the names\nthe four-and-twenty letters could make up, he should not have called me\nheretic; for as I knew nothing about religion, neither Protestant from\nPapist, or either of them from a Mahometan, I could never be a heretic.\nHowever, it passed but a little, but, as young as I was, I had been\ncarried into the Inquisition, and there, if they had asked me if I was\na Protestant or a Catholic, I should have said yes to that which came\nfirst. If it had been the Protestant they had asked first, it had\ncertainly made a martyr of me for I did not know what.\nBut the very priest they carried with them, or chaplain of the ship,\nas we called him, saved me; for seeing me a boy entirely ignorant of\nreligion, and ready to do or say anything they bid me, he asked me some\nquestions about it, which he found I answered so very simply, that\nhe took it upon him to tell them he would answer for my being a good\nCatholic, and he hoped he should be the means of saving my soul, and he\npleased himself that it was to be a work of merit to him; so he made me\nas good a Papist as any of them in about a week's time.\nI then told him my case about my master; how, it is true, he had taken\nme up in a miserable case on board a man-of-war at Lisbon; and I was\nindebted to him for bringing me on board this ship; that if I had been\nleft at Lisbon, I might have starved, and the like; and therefore I\nwas willing to serve him, but that I hoped he would give me some little\nconsideration for my service, or let me know how long he expected I\nshould serve him for nothing.\nIt was all one; neither the priest nor any one else could prevail with\nhim, but that I was not his servant but his slave, that he took me in\nthe Algerine, and that I was a Turk, only pretended to be an English boy\nto get my liberty, and he would carry me to the Inquisition as a Turk.\nThis frighted me out of my wits, for I had nobody to vouch for me what I\nwas, or from whence I came; but the good Padre Antonio, for that was his\nname, cleared me of that part by a way I did not understand; for he came\nto me one morning with two sailors, and told me they must search me, to\nbear witness that I was not a Turk. I was amazed at them, and frighted,\nand did not understand them, nor could I imagine what they intended to\ndo to me. However, stripping me, they were soon satisfied, and Father\nAntony bade me be easy, for they could all witness that I was no Turk.\nSo I escaped that part of my master's cruelty.\nAnd now I resolved from that time to run away from him if I could, but\nthere was no doing of it there, for there were not ships of any nation\nin the world in that port, except two or three Persian vessels from\nOrmus, so that if I had offered to go away from him, he would have had\nme seized on shore, and brought on board by force; so that I had no\nremedy but patience. And this he brought to an end too as soon as he\ncould, for after this he began to use me ill, and not only to straiten\nmy provisions, but to beat and torture me in a barbarous manner for\nevery trifle, so that, in a word, my life began to be very miserable.\nThe violence of this usage of me, and the impossibility of my escape\nfrom his hands, set my head a-working upon all sorts of mischief, and in\nparticular I resolved, after studying all other ways to deliver myself,\nand finding all ineffectual, I say, I resolved to murder him. With this\nhellish resolution in my head, I spent whole nights and days contriving\nhow to put it in execution, the devil prompting me very warmly to the\nfact. I was indeed entirely at a loss for the means, for I had neither\ngun or sword, nor any weapon to assault him with; poison I had my\nthoughts much upon, but knew not where to get any; or, if I might have\ngot it, I did not know the country word for it, or by what name to ask\nfor it.\nIn this manner I quitted the fact, intentionally, a hundred and a\nhundred times; but Providence, either for his sake or for mine, always\nfrustrated my designs, and I could never bring it to pass; so I was\nobliged to continue in his chains till the ship, having taken in her\nloading, set sail for Portugal.\nI can say nothing here to the manner of our voyage, for, as I said, I\nkept no journal; but this I can give an account of, that having been\nonce as high as the Cape of Good Hope, as we call it, or Cabo de Bona\nSperanza, as they call it, we were driven back again by a violent storm\nfrom the W.S.W., which held us six days and nights a great way to the\neastward, and after that, standing afore the wind for several days more,\nwe at last came to an anchor on the coast of Madagascar.\nThe storm had been so violent that the ship had received a great deal of\ndamage, and it required some time to repair her; so, standing in nearer\nthe shore, the pilot, my master, brought the ship into a very good\nharbour, where we rid in twenty-six fathoms water, about half a mile\nfrom the shore.\nWhile the ship rode here there happened a most desperate mutiny among\nthe men, upon account of some deficiency in their allowance, which came\nto that height that they threatened the captain to set him on shore, and\ngo back with the ship to Goa. I wished they would with all my heart,\nfor I was full of mischief in my head, and ready enough to do any. So,\nthough I was but a boy, as they called me, yet I prompted the mischief\nall I could, and embarked in it so openly, that I escaped very little\nbeing hanged in the first and most early part of my life; for the\ncaptain had some notice that there was a design laid by some of the\ncompany to murder him; and having, partly by money and promises, and\npartly by threatening and torture, brought two fellows to confess the\nparticulars, and the names of the persons concerned, they were presently\napprehended, till, one accusing another, no less than sixteen men were\nseized and put into irons, whereof I was one.\nThe captain, who was made desperate by his danger, resolving to clear\nthe ship of his enemies, tried us all, and we were all condemned to die.\nThe manner of his process I was too young to take notice of; but the\npurser and one of the gunners were hanged immediately, and I expected it\nwith the rest. I do not remember any great concern I was under about it,\nonly that I cried very much, for I knew little then of this world, and\nnothing at all of the next.\nHowever, the captain contented himself with executing these two, and\nsome of the rest, upon their humble submission and promise of future\ngood behaviour, were pardoned; but five were ordered to be set on shore\non the island and left there, of which I was one. My master used all his\ninterest with the captain to have me excused, but could not obtain it;\nfor somebody having told him that I was one of them who was singled out\nto have killed him, when my master desired I might not be set on shore,\nthe captain told him I should stay on board if he desired it, but then\nI should be hanged, so he might choose for me which he thought best. The\ncaptain, it seems, was particularly provoked at my being concerned in\nthe treachery, because of his having been so kind to me, and of his\nhaving singled me out to serve him, as I have said above; and this,\nperhaps, obliged him to give my master such a rough choice, either\nto set me on shore or to have me hanged on board. And had my master,\nindeed, known what good-will I had for him, he would not have been long\nin choosing for me; for I had certainly determined to do him a mischief\nthe first opportunity I had for it. This was, therefore, a good\nprovidence for me to keep me from dipping my hands in blood, and it made\nme more tender afterwards in matters of blood than I believe I should\notherwise have been. But as to my being one of them that was to kill\nthe captain, that I was wronged in, for I was not the person, but it was\nreally one of them that were pardoned, he having the good luck not to\nhave that part discovered.\nI was now to enter upon a part of independent life, a thing I was indeed\nvery ill prepared to manage, for I was perfectly loose and dissolute\nin my behaviour, bold and wicked while I was under government, and now\nperfectly unfit to be trusted with liberty, for I was as ripe for any\nvillainy as a young fellow that had no solid thought ever placed in his\nmind could be supposed to be. Education, as you have heard, I had none;\nand all the little scenes of life I had passed through had been full\nof dangers and desperate circumstances; but I was either so young or so\nstupid, that I escaped the grief and anxiety of them, for want of having\na sense of their tendency and consequences.\nThis thoughtless, unconcerned temper had one felicity indeed in it, that\nit made me daring and ready for doing any mischief, and kept off the\nsorrow which otherwise ought to have attended me when I fell into any\nmischief; that this stupidity was instead of a happiness to me, for it\nleft my thoughts free to act upon means of escape and deliverance in my\ndistress, however great it might be; whereas my companions in the misery\nwere so sunk by their fear and grief, that they abandoned themselves to\nthe misery of their condition, and gave over all thought but of their\nperishing and starving, being devoured by wild beasts, murdered, and\nperhaps eaten by cannibals, and the like.\nI was but a young fellow, about seventeen or eighteen; but hearing what\nwas to be my fate, I received it with no appearance of discouragement;\nbut I asked what my master said to it, and being told that he had used\nhis utmost interest to save me, but the captain had answered I should\neither go on shore or be hanged on board, which he pleased, I then gave\nover all hope of being received again. I was not very thankful in my\nthoughts to my master for his soliciting the captain for me, because I\nknew that what he did was not in kindness to me so much as in kindness\nto himself; I mean, to preserve the wages which he got for me, which\namounted to above six dollars a month, including what the captain\nallowed him for my particular service to him.\nWhen I understood that my master was so apparently kind, I asked if I\nmight not be admitted to speak with him, and they told me I might, if my\nmaster would come down to me, but I could not be allowed to come up to\nhim; so then I desired my master might be spoke to to come to me, and he\naccordingly came to me. I fell on my knees to him, and begged he would\nforgive me what I had done to displease him; and indeed the resolution\nI had taken to murder him lay with some horror upon my mind just at\nthat time, so that I was once just a-going to confess it, and beg him\nto forgive me, but I kept it in. He told me he had done all he could to\nobtain my pardon of the captain, but could not and he knew no way for me\nbut to have patience, and submit to my fate; and if they came to speak\nwith any ship of their nation at the Cape, he would endeavour to have\nthem stand in, and fetch us off again, if we might be found.\nThen I begged I might have my clothes on shore with me. He told me he\nwas afraid I should have little need of clothes, for he did not see how\nwe could long subsist on the island, and that he had been told that the\ninhabitants were cannibals or men-eaters (though he had no reason for\nthat suggestion), and we should not be able to live among them. I\ntold him I was not so afraid of that as I was of starving for want of\nvictuals; and as for the inhabitants being cannibals, I believed we\nshould be more likely to eat them than they us, if we could but get at\nthem. But I was mightily concerned, I said, we should have no weapons\nwith us to defend ourselves, and I begged nothing now, but that he would\ngive me a gun and a sword, with a little powder and shot.\nHe smiled, and said they would signify nothing to us, for it was\nimpossible for us to pretend to preserve our lives among such a populous\nand desperate nation as the people of this island were. I told him that,\nhowever, it would do us this good, for we should not be devoured or\ndestroyed immediately; so I begged hard for the gun. At last he told me\nhe did not know whether the captain would give him leave to give me a\ngun, and if not, he durst not do it; but he promised to use his interest\nto obtain it for me, which he did, and the next day he sent me a gun,\nwith some ammunition, but told me the captain would not suffer the\nammunition to be given us till we were set all on shore, and till he\nwas just going to set sail. He also sent me the few clothes I had in the\nship, which indeed were not many.\nTwo days after this, we were all carried on shore together; the rest\nof my fellow-criminals hearing I had a gun, and some powder and shot,\nsolicited for liberty to carry the like with them, which was also\ngranted them; and thus we were set on shore to shift for ourselves.\nAt our first coming into the island we were terrified exceedingly with\nthe sight of the barbarous people, whose figure was made more terrible\nto us than it really was by the report we had of them from the seamen;\nbut when we came to converse with them awhile, we found they were not\ncannibals, as was reported, or such as would fall immediately upon us\nand eat us up; but they came and sat down by us, and wondered much at\nour clothes and arms, and made signs to give us some victuals, such as\nthey had, which was only roots and plants dug out of the ground for the\npresent, but they brought us fowls and flesh afterwards in good plenty.\nThis encouraged the other four men that were with me very much, for they\nwere quite dejected before; but now they began to be very familiar with\nthem, and made signs, that if they would use us kindly, we would stay\nand live with them; which they seemed glad of, though they knew little\nof the necessity we were under to do so, or how much we were afraid of\nthem.\nHowever, upon second thoughts we resolved that we would only stay in\nthat part so long as the ship rid in the bay, and then making them\nbelieve we were gone with the ship, we would go and place ourselves, if\npossible, where there were no inhabitants to be seen, and so live as we\ncould, or perhaps watch for a ship that might be driven upon the coast\nas we were.\nThe ship continued a fortnight in the roads, repairing some damage which\nhad been done her in the late storm, and taking in wood and water; and\nduring this time, the boat coming often on shore, the men brought us\nseveral refreshments, and the natives believing we only belonged to the\nship, were civil enough. We lived in a kind of a tent on the shore, or\nrather a hut, which we made with the boughs of trees, and sometimes in\nthe night retired to a wood a little out of their way, to let them\nthink we were gone on board the ship. However, we found them barbarous,\ntreacherous, and villainous enough in their nature, only civil from\nfear, and therefore concluded we should soon fall into their hands when\nthe ship was gone.\nThe sense of this wrought upon my fellow-sufferers even to distraction;\nand one of them, being a carpenter, in his mad fit, swam off to the ship\nin the night, though she lay then a league to sea, and made such pitiful\nmoan to be taken in, that the captain was prevailed with at last to take\nhim in, though they let him lie swimming three hours in the water before\nhe consented to it.\nUpon this, and his humble submission, the captain received him, and, in\na word, the importunity of this man (who for some time petitioned to be\ntaken in, though they hanged him as soon as they had him) was such as\ncould not be resisted; for, after he had swam so long about the ship,\nhe was not able to reach the shore again; and the captain saw evidently\nthat the man must be taken on board or suffered to drown, and the whole\nship's company offering to be bound for him for his good behaviour, the\ncaptain at last yielded, and he was taken up, but almost dead with his\nbeing so long in the water.\nWhen this man was got in, he never left importuning the captain, and all\nthe rest of the officers, in behalf of us that were behind, but to\nthe very last day the captain was inexorable; when, at the time their\npreparations were making to sail, and orders given to hoist the boats\ninto the ship, all the seamen in a body came up to the rail of the\nquarter-deck, where the captain was walking with some of his officers,\nand appointing the boatswain to speak for them, he went up, and falling\non his knees to the captain, begged of him, in the humblest manner\npossible, to receive the four men on board again, offering to answer for\ntheir fidelity, or to have them kept in chains till they came to Lisbon,\nand there to be delivered up to justice, rather than, as they said, to\nhave them left to be murdered by savages, or devoured by wild beasts. It\nwas a great while ere the captain took any notice of them, but when he\ndid, he ordered the boatswain to be seized, and threatened to bring him\nto the capstan for speaking for them.\nUpon this severity, one of the seamen, bolder than the rest, but still\nwith all possible respect to the captain, besought his honour, as he\ncalled him, that he would give leave to some more of them to go on\nshore, and die with their companions, or, if possible, to assist them\nto resist the barbarians. The captain, rather provoked than cowed with\nthis, came to the barricade of the quarter-deck, and speaking very\nprudently to the men (for had he spoken roughly, two-thirds of them\nwould have left the ship, if not all of them), he told them, it was\nfor their safety as well as his own that he had been obliged to that\nseverity; that mutiny on board a ship was the same thing as treason in a\nking's palace, and he could not answer it to his owners and employers\nto trust the ship and goods committed to his charge with men who had\nentertained thoughts of the worst and blackest nature; that he wished\nheartily that it had been anywhere else that they had been set on shore,\nwhere they might have been in less hazard from the savages; that, if he\nhad designed they should be destroyed, he could as well have executed\nthem on board as the other two; that he wished it had been in some other\npart of the world, where he might have delivered them up to the civil\njustice, or might have left them among Christians; but it was better\ntheir lives were put in hazard than his life, and the safety of the\nship; and that though he did not know that he had deserved so ill of any\nof them as that they should leave the ship rather than do their duty,\nyet if any of them were resolved to do so unless he would consent to\ntake a gang of traitors on board, who, as he had proved before them\nall, had conspired to murder him, he would not hinder them, nor for the\npresent would he resent their importunity; but, if there was nobody left\nin the ship but himself, he would never consent to take them on board.\nThis discourse was delivered so well, was in itself so reasonable, was\nmanaged with so much temper, yet so boldly concluded with a negative,\nthat the greatest part of the men were satisfied for the present.\nHowever, as it put the men into juntos and cabals, they were not\ncomposed for some hours; the wind also slackening towards night, the\ncaptain ordered not to weigh till next morning.\nThe same night twenty-three of the men, among whom was the gunner's\nmate, the surgeon's assistant, and two carpenters, applying to the chief\nmate told him, that as the captain had given them leave to go on shore\nto their comrades, they begged that he would speak to the captain not to\ntake it ill that they were desirous to go and die with their companions;\nand that they thought they could do no less in such an extremity than\ngo to them; because, if there was any way to save their lives, it was\nby adding to their numbers, and making them strong enough to assist one\nanother in defending themselves against the savages, till perhaps they\nmight one time or other find means to make their escape, and get to\ntheir own country again.\nThe mate told them, in so many words, that he durst not speak to the\ncaptain upon any such design, and was very sorry they had no more\nrespect for him than to desire him to go upon such an errand; but, if\nthey were resolved upon such an enterprise, he would advise them to take\nthe long-boat in the morning betimes, and go off, seeing the captain had\ngiven them leave, and leave a civil letter behind them to the captain,\nand to desire him to send his men on shore for the boat, which should be\ndelivered very honestly, and he promised to keep their counsel so long.\nAccordingly, an hour before day, those twenty-three men, with every\nman a firelock and a cutlass, with some pistols, three halberds or\nhalf-pikes, and good store of powder and ball, without any provision but\nabout half a hundred of bread, but with all their chests and clothes,\ntools, instruments, books, &c., embarked themselves so silently, that\nthe captain got no notice of it till they were gotten half the way on\nshore.\nAs soon as the captain heard of it he called for the gunner's mate, the\nchief gunner being at the time sick in his cabin, and ordered to fire at\nthem; but, to his great mortification, the gunner's mate was one of the\nnumber, and was gone with them; and indeed it was by this means they got\nso many arms and so much ammunition. When the captain found how it was,\nand that there was no help for it, he began to be a little appeased, and\nmade light of it, and called up the men, and spoke kindly to them, and\ntold them he was very well satisfied in the fidelity and ability of\nthose that were now left, and that he would give to them, for their\nencouragement, to be divided among them, the wages which were due to the\nmen that were gone, and that it was a great satisfaction to him that the\nship was free from such a mutinous rabble, who had not the least reason\nfor their discontent.\nThe men seemed very well satisfied, and particularly the promise of the\nwages of those who were gone went a great way with them. After this, the\nletter which was left by the men was given to the captain by his boy,\nwith whom, it seems, the men had left it. The letter was much to the\nsame purpose of what they had said to the mate, and which he declined to\nsay for them, only that at the end of their letter they told the captain\nthat, as they had no dishonest design, so they had taken nothing away\nwith them which was not their own, except some arms and ammunition, such\nas were absolutely necessary to them, as well for their defence against\nthe savages as to kill fowls or beasts for their food, that they might\nnot perish; and as there were considerable sums due to them for wages,\nthey hoped he would allow the arms and ammunition upon their accounts.\nThey told him that, as to the ship's longboat, which they had taken to\nbring them on shore, they knew it was necessary to him, and they were\nvery willing to restore it to him, and if he pleased to send for it, it\nshould be very honestly delivered to his men, and not the least injury\noffered to any of those who came for it, nor the least persuasion or\ninvitation made use of to any of them to stay with them; and, at the\nbottom of the letter, they very humbly besought him that, for their\ndefence, and for the safety of their lives, he would be pleased to send\nthem a barrel of powder and some ammunition, and give them leave to keep\nthe mast and sail of the boat, that if it was possible for them to make\nthemselves a boat of any kind, they might shift off to sea, to save\nthemselves in such part of the world as their fate should direct them\nto.\nUpon this the captain, who had won much upon the rest of his men by what\nhe had said to them, and was very easy as to the general peace (for it\nwas very true that the most mutinous of the men were gone), came out\nto the quarter-deck, and, calling the men together, let them know the\nsubstance of the letter, and told the men that, however they had not\ndeserved such civility from him, yet he was not willing to expose them\nmore than they were willing to expose themselves; he was inclined to\nsend them some ammunition, and as they had desired but one barrel of\npowder, he would send them two barrels, and shot, or lead and moulds to\nmake shot, in proportion; and, to let them see that he was civiller to\nthem than they deserved, he ordered a cask of arrack and a great bag\nof bread to be sent them for subsistence till they should be able to\nfurnish themselves.\nThe rest of the men applauded the captain's generosity, and every one\nof them sent us something or other, and about three in the afternoon the\npinnace came on shore, and brought us all these things, which we were\nvery glad of, and returned the long-boat accordingly; and as to the men\nthat came with the pinnace, as the captain had singled out such men as\nhe knew would not come over to us, so they had positive orders not to\nbring any one of us on board again, upon pain of death; and indeed both\nwere so true to our points, that we neither asked them to stay, nor they\nus to go.\nWe were now a good troop, being in all twenty-seven men, very well\narmed, and provided with everything but victuals; we had two carpenters\namong us, a gunner, and, which was worth all the rest, a surgeon or\ndoctor; that is to say, he was an assistant to a surgeon at Goa, and was\nentertained as a supernumerary with us. The carpenters had brought all\ntheir tools, the doctor all his instruments and medicines, and indeed we\nhad a great deal of baggage, that is to say, on the whole, for some of\nus had little more than the clothes on our backs, of whom I was one;\nbut I had one thing which none of them had, viz., I had the twenty-two\nmoidores of gold which I had stole at the Brazils, and two pieces of\neight. The two pieces of eight I showed, and one moidore, and none of\nthem ever suspected that I had any more money in the world, having been\nknown to be only a poor boy taken up in charity, as you have heard,\nand used like a slave, and in the worst manner of a slave, by my cruel\nmaster the pilot.\nIt will be easy to imagine we four that were left at first were joyful,\nnay, even surprised with joy at the coming of the rest, though at first\nwe were frighted, and thought they came to fetch us back to hang us;\nbut they took ways quickly to satisfy us that they were in the same\ncondition with us, only with this additional circumstance, theirs was\nvoluntary, and ours by force.\nThe first piece of news they told us after the short history of their\ncoming away was, that our companion was on board, but how he got\nthither we could not imagine, for he had given us the slip, and we never\nimagined he could swim so well as to venture off to the ship, which lay\nat so great a distance; nay, we did not so much as know that he could\nswim at all, and not thinking anything of what really happened, we\nthought he must have wandered into the woods and was devoured, or\nwas fallen into the hands of the natives, and was murdered; and these\nthoughts filled us with fears enough, and of several kinds, about its\nbeing some time or other our lot to fall into their hands also. But\nhearing how he had with much difficulty been received on board the ship\nagain and pardoned, we were much better satisfied than before.\nBeing now, as I have said, a considerable number of us, and in condition\nto defend ourselves, the first thing we did was to give every one his\nhand that we would not separate from one another upon any occasion\nwhatsoever, but that we would live and die together; that we would kill\nno food, but that we would distribute it in public; and that we would\nbe in all things guided by the majority, and not insist upon our own\nresolutions in anything if the majority were against it; that we would\nappoint a captain among us to be our governor or leader during pleasure;\nthat while he was in office we would obey him without reserve, on pain\nof death; and that every one should take turn, but the captain was not\nto act in any particular thing without advice of the rest, and by the\nmajority.\nHaving established these rules, we resolved to enter into some measures\nfor our food, and for conversing with the inhabitants or natives of the\nisland for our supply. As for food, they were at first very useful to\nus, but we soon grew weary of them, being an ignorant, ravenous, brutish\nsort of people, even worse than the natives of any other country that we\nhad seen; and we soon found that the principal part of our subsistence\nwas to be had by our guns, shooting of deer and other creatures, and\nfowls of all other sorts, of which there is abundance.\nWe found the natives did not disturb or concern themselves much about\nus; nor did they inquire, or perhaps know, whether we stayed among them\nor not, much less that our ship was gone quite away, and had cast us\noff, as was our case; for the next morning, after we had sent back the\nlong-boat, the ship stood away to the south-east, and in four hours'\ntime was out of our sight.\nThe next day two of us went out into the country one way, and two\nanother, to see what kind of a land we were in; and we soon found the\ncountry was very pleasant and fruitful, and a convenient place enough\nto live in; but, as before, inhabited by a parcel of creatures scarce\nhuman, or capable of being made social on any account whatsoever.\nWe found the place full of cattle and provisions; but whether we might\nventure to take them where we could find them or not, we did not know;\nand though we were under a necessity to get provisions, yet we were loth\nto bring down a whole nation of devils upon us at once, and therefore\nsome of our company agreed to try to speak with some of the country,\nif we could, that we might see what course was to be taken with them.\nEleven of our men went on this errand, well armed and furnished for\ndefence. They brought word that they had seen some of the natives, who\nappeared very civil to them, but very shy and afraid, seeing their guns,\nfor it was easy to perceive that the natives knew what their guns were,\nand what use they were of.\nThey made signs to the natives for some food, and they went and fetched\nseveral herbs and roots, and some milk; but it was evident they did not\ndesign to give it away, but to sell it, making signs to know what our\nmen would give them.\nOur men were perplexed at this, for they had nothing to barter; however,\none of the men pulled out a knife and showed them, and they were so fond\nof it that they were ready to go together by the ears for the knife. The\nseaman seeing that, was willing to make a good market of his knife, and\nkeeping them chaffering about it a good while, some offered him roots,\nand others milk; at last one offered him a goat for it, which he took.\nThen another of our men showed them another knife, but they had nothing\ngood enough for that, whereupon one of them made signs that he would\ngo and fetch something; so our men stayed three hours for their return,\nwhen they came back and brought him a small-sized, thick, short cow,\nvery fat and good meat, and gave him for his knife.\nThis was a good market, but our misfortune was we had no merchandise;\nfor our knives were as needful to us as to them, and but that we were in\ndistress for food, and must of necessity have some, these men would not\nhave parted with their knives.\nHowever, in a little time more we found that the woods were full of\nliving creatures, which we might kill for our food, and that without\ngiving offence to them; so that our men went daily out a-hunting, and\nnever failed in killing something or other; for, as to the natives, we\nhad no goods to barter; and for money, all the stock among us would not\nhave subsisted us long. However, we called a general council to see what\nmoney we had, and to bring it all together, that it might go as far as\npossible; and when it came to my turn, I pulled out a moidore and the\ntwo dollars I spoke of before.\nThis moidore I ventured to show, that they might not despise me too much\nfor adding too little to the store, and that they might not pretend to\nsearch me; and they were very civil to me, upon the presumption that I\nhad been so faithful to them as not to conceal anything from them.\nBut our money did us little service, for the people neither knew\nthe value or the use of it, nor could they justly rate the gold in\nproportion with the silver; so that all our money, which was not much\nwhen it was all put together, would go but a little way with us, that is\nto say, to buy us provisions.\nOur next consideration was to get away from this cursed place, and\nwhither to go. When my opinion came to be asked, I told them I would\nleave that all to them, and I told them I had rather they would let me\ngo into the woods to get them some provisions, than consult with me, for\nI would agree to whatever they did; but they would not agree to that,\nfor they would not consent that any of us should go into the woods\nalone; for though we had yet seen no lions or tigers in the woods, we\nwere assured there were many in the island, besides other creatures\nas dangerous, and perhaps worse, as we afterwards found by our own\nexperience.\nWe had many adventures in the woods, for our provisions, and often met\nwith wild and terrible beasts, which we could not call by their names;\nbut as they were, like us, seeking their prey, but were themselves good\nfor nothing, so we disturbed them as little as possible.\nOur consultations concerning our escape from this place, which, as I\nhave said, we were now upon, ended in this only, that as we had two\ncarpenters among us, and that they had tools almost of all sorts with\nthem, we should try to build us a boat to go off to sea with, and that\nthen, perhaps, we might find our way back to Goa, or land on some more\nproper place to make our escape. The counsels of this assembly were\nnot of great moment, yet as they seem to be introductory of many more\nremarkable adventures which happened under my conduct hereabouts many\nyears after, I think this miniature of my future enterprises may not be\nunpleasant to relate.\nTo the building of a boat I made no objection, and away they went to\nwork immediately; but as they went on, great difficulties occurred,\nsuch as the want of saws to cut our plank; nails, bolts, and spikes, to\nfasten the timbers; hemp, pitch, and tar, to caulk and pay her seams,\nand the like. At length, one of the company proposed that, instead of\nbuilding a bark or sloop, or shallop, or whatever they would call\nit, which they found was so difficult, they would rather make a large\nperiagua, or canoe, which might be done with great ease.\nIt was presently objected, that we could never make a canoe large enough\nto pass the great ocean, which we were to go over to get to the coast\nof Malabar; that it not only would not bear the sea, but it would never\nbear the burden, for we were not only twenty-seven men of us, but had\na great deal of luggage with us, and must, for our provision, take in a\ngreat deal more.\nI never proposed to speak in their general consultations before, but\nfinding they were at some loss about what kind of vessel they should\nmake, and how to make it, and what would be fit for our use, and what\nnot, I told them I found they were at a full stop in their counsels of\nevery kind; that it was true we could never pretend to go over to Goa on\nthe coast of Malabar in a canoe, which though we could all get into\nit, and that it would bear the sea well enough, yet would not hold our\nprovisions, and especially we could not put fresh water enough into it\nfor the voyage; and to make such an adventure would be nothing but mere\nrunning into certain destruction, and yet that nevertheless I was for\nmaking a canoe.\nThey answered, that they understood all I had said before well enough,\nbut what I meant by telling them first how dangerous and impossible\nit was to make our escape in a canoe, and yet then to advise making a\ncanoe, that they could not understand.\nTo this I answered, that I conceived our business was not to attempt our\nescape in a canoe, but that, as there were other vessels at sea besides\nour ship, and that there were few nations that lived on the sea-shore\nthat were so barbarous, but that they went to sea in some boats or\nother, our business was to cruise along the coast of the island, which\nwas very long, and to seize upon the first we could get that was better\nthan our own, and so from that to another, till perhaps we might at last\nget a good ship to carry us wherever we pleased to go.\n\"Excellent advice,\" says one of them. \"Admirable advice,\" says another.\n\"Yes, yes,\" says the third (which was the gunner), \"the English dog has\ngiven excellent advice; but it is just the way to bring us all to\nthe gallows. The rogue has given us devilish advice, indeed, to go\na-thieving, till from a little vessel we came to a great ship, and so we\nshall turn downright pirates, the end of which is to be hanged.\"\n\"You may call us pirates,\" says another, \"if you will, and if we fall\ninto bad hands, we may be used like pirates; but I care not for that,\nI'll be a pirate, or anything, nay, I'll be hanged for a pirate rather\nthan starve here, therefore I think the advice is very good.\" And so\nthey cried all, \"Let us have a canoe.\" The gunner, over-ruled by the\nrest, submitted; but as we broke up the council, he came to me, takes\nme by the hand, and, looking into the palm of my hand, and into my face\ntoo, very gravely, \"My lad,\" says he, \"thou art born to do a world of\nmischief; thou hast commenced pirate very young; but have a care of\nthe gallows, young man; have a care, I say, for thou wilt be an eminent\nthief.\"\nI laughed at him, and told him I did not know what I might come to\nhereafter, but as our case was now, I should make no scruple to take the\nfirst ship I came at to get our liberty; I only wished we could see one,\nand come at her. Just while we were talking, one of our men that was at\nthe door of our hut, told us that the carpenter, who it seems was upon a\nhill at a distance, cried out, \"A sail! a sail!\"\nWe all turned out immediately; but, though it was very clear weather,\nwe could see nothing; but the carpenter continuing to halloo to us, \"A\nsail! a sail!\" away we run up the hill, and there we saw a ship plainly;\nbut it was at a very great distance, too far for us to make any signal\nto her. However, we made a fire upon the hill, with all the wood we\ncould get together, and made as much smoke as possible. The wind was\ndown, and it was almost calm; but as we thought, by a perspective glass\nwhich the gunner had in his pocket, her sails were full, and she stood\naway large with the wind at E.N.E., taking no notice of our signal, but\nmaking for the Cape de Bona Speranza; so we had no comfort from her.\nWe went, therefore, immediately to work about our intended canoe; and,\nhaving singled out a very large tree to our minds, we fell to work with\nher; and having three good axes among us, we got it down, but it was\nfour days' time first, though we worked very hard too. I do not remember\nwhat wood it was, or exactly what dimensions, but I remember that it was\na very large one, and we were as much encouraged when we launched it,\nand found it swam upright and steady, as we would have been at another\ntime if we had had a good man-of-war at our command.\nShe was so very large, that she carried us all very, very easily, and\nwould have carried two or three tons of baggage with us; so that we\nbegan to consult about going to sea directly to Goa; but many other\nconsiderations checked that thought, especially when we came to look\nnearer into it; such as want of provisions, and no casks for fresh\nwater; no compass to steer by; no shelter from the breach of the high\nsea, which would certainly founder us; no defence from the heat of the\nweather, and the like; so that they all came readily into my project, to\ncruise about where we were, and see what might offer.\nAccordingly, to gratify our fancy, we went one day all out to sea in her\ntogether, and we were in a very fair way to have had enough of it;\nfor when she had us all on board, and that we were gotten about half\na league to sea, there happening to be a pretty high swell of the sea,\nthough little or no wind, yet she wallowed so in the sea, that we all of\nus thought she would at last wallow herself bottom up; so we set all\nto work to get her in nearer the shore, and giving her fresh way in the\nsea, she swam more steady, and with some hard work we got her under the\nland again.\nWe were now at a great loss; the natives were civil enough to us, and\ncame often to discourse with us; one time they brought one whom they\nshowed respect to as a king with them, and they set up a long pole\nbetween them and us, with a great tassel of hair hanging, not on the\ntop, but something above the middle of it, adorned with little chains,\nshells, bits of brass, and the like; and this, we understood afterwards,\nwas a token of amity and friendship; and they brought down to us\nvictuals in abundance, cattle, fowls, herbs, and roots; but we were in\nthe utmost confusion on our side; for we had nothing to buy with, or\nexchange for; and as to giving us things for nothing they had no notion\nof that again. As to our money, it was mere trash to them, they had no\nvalue for it; so that we were in a fair way to be starved. Had we had\nbut some toys and trinkets, brass chains, baubles, glass beads, or, in\na word, the veriest trifles that a shipload of would not have been worth\nthe freight, we might have bought cattle and provisions enough for an\narmy, or to victual a fleet of men-of-war; but for gold or silver we\ncould get nothing.\nUpon this we were in a strange consternation. I was but a young fellow,\nbut I was for falling upon them with our firearms, and taking all the\ncattle from them, and send them to the devil to stop their hunger,\nrather than be starved ourselves; but I did not consider that this might\nhave brought ten thousand of them down upon us the next day; and though\nwe might have killed a vast number of them, and perhaps have frighted\nthe rest, yet their own desperation, and our small number, would have\nanimated them so that, one time or other, they would have destroyed us\nall.\nIn the middle of our consultation, one of our men who had been a kind\nof a cutler, or worker in iron, started up and asked the carpenter if,\namong all his tools, he could not help him to a file. \"Yes,\" says the\ncarpenter, \"I can, but it is a small one.\" \"The smaller the better,\"\nsays the other. Upon this he goes to work, and first by heating a piece\nof an old broken chisel in the fire, and then with the help of his file,\nhe made himself several kinds of tools for his work. Then he takes three\nor four pieces of eight, and beats them out with a hammer upon a stone,\ntill they were very broad and thin; then he cuts them out into the shape\nof birds and beasts; he made little chains of them for bracelets and\nnecklaces, and turned them into so many devices of his own head, that it\nis hardly to be expressed.\nWhen he had for about a fortnight exercised his head and hands at this\nwork, we tried the effect of his ingenuity; and, having another meeting\nwith the natives, were surprised to see the folly of the poor people.\nFor a little bit of silver cut in the shape of a bird, we had two cows,\nand, which was our loss, if it had been in brass, it had been still of\nmore value. For one of the bracelets made of chain-work, we had as much\nprovision of several sorts, as would fairly have been worth, in England,\nfifteen or sixteen pounds; and so of all the rest. Thus, that which when\nit was in coin was not worth sixpence to us, when thus converted\ninto toys and trifles, was worth a hundred times its real value, and\npurchased for us anything we had occasion for.\nIn this condition we lived upwards of a year, but all of us began to be\nvery much tired of it, and, whatever came of it, resolved to attempt\nan escape. We had furnished ourselves with no less than three very\ngood canoes; and as the monsoons, or trade-winds, generally affect that\ncountry, blowing in most parts of this island one six months of a year\none way, and the other six months another way, we concluded we might be\nable to bear the sea well enough. But always, when we came to look into\nit, the want of fresh water was the thing that put us off from such an\nadventure, for it is a prodigious length, and what no man on earth could\nbe able to perform without water to drink.\nBeing thus prevailed upon by our own reason to set the thoughts of that\nvoyage aside, we had then but two things before us; one was, to put to\nsea the other way; viz., west, and go away for the Cape of Good Hope,\nwhere, first or last, we should meet with some of our own country ships,\nor else to put for the mainland of Africa, and either travel by land,\nor sail along the coast towards the Red Sea, where we should, first or\nlast, find a ship of some nation or other, that would take us up; or\nperhaps we might take them up, which, by-the-bye, was the thing that\nalways ran in my head.\nIt was our ingenious cutler, whom ever after we called silversmith, that\nproposed this; but the gunner told him, that he had been in the Red Sea\nin a Malabar sloop, and he knew this, that if we went into the Red Sea,\nwe should either be killed by the wild Arabs, or taken and made slaves\nof by the Turks; and therefore he was not for going that way.\nUpon this I took occasion to put in my vote again. \"Why,\" said I, \"do we\ntalk of being killed by the Arabs, or made slaves of by the Turks? Are\nwe not able to board almost any vessel we shall meet with in those seas;\nand, instead of their taking us, we to take them?\" \"Well done, pirate,\"\nsaid the gunner (he that had looked in my hand, and told me I should\ncome to the gallows), \"I'll say that for him,\" says he, \"he always looks\nthe same way. But I think, of my conscience, it is our only way now.\"\n\"Don't tell me,\" says I, \"of being a pirate; we must be pirates, or\nanything, to get fairly out of this cursed place.\"\nIn a word, they concluded all, by my advice, that our business was to\ncruise for anything we could see. \"Why then,\" said I to them, \"our first\nbusiness is to see if the people upon this island have no navigation,\nand what boats they use; and, if they have any better or bigger than\nours, let us take one of them.\" First, indeed, all our aim was to get,\nif possible, a boat with a deck and a sail; for then we might have saved\nour provisions, which otherwise we could not.\nWe had, to our great good fortune, one sailor among us, who had been\nassistant to the cook; he told us, that he would find a way how to\npreserve our beef without cask or pickle; and this he did effectually\nby curing it in the sun, with the help of saltpetre, of which there was\ngreat plenty in the island; so that, before we found any method for our\nescape, we had dried the flesh of six or seven cows and bullocks,\nand ten or twelve goats, and it relished so well, that we never gave\nourselves the trouble to boil it when we ate it, but either broiled it\nor ate it dry. But our main difficulty about fresh water still remained;\nfor we had no vessel to put any into, much less to keep any for our\ngoing to sea.\nBut our first voyage being only to coast the island, we resolved to\nventure, whatever the hazard or consequence of it might be, and in order\nto preserve as much fresh water as we could, our carpenter made a well\nathwart the middle of one of our canoes, which he separated from the\nother parts of the canoe, so as to make it tight to hold the water and\ncovered so as we might step upon it; and this was so large that it held\nnear a hogshead of water very well. I cannot better describe this well\nthan by the same kind which the small fishing-boats in England have to\npreserve their fish alive in; only that this, instead of having holes to\nlet the salt water in, was made sound every way to keep it out; and it\nwas the first invention, I believe, of its kind for such an use; but\nnecessity is a spur to ingenuity and the mother of invention.\nIt wanted but a little consultation to resolve now upon our voyage. The\nfirst design was only to coast it round the island, as well to see if we\ncould seize upon any vessel fit to embark ourselves in, as also to take\nhold of any opportunity which might present for our passing over to the\nmain; and therefore our resolution was to go on the inside or west shore\nof the island, where, at least at one point, the land stretching a great\nway to the north-west, the distance is not extraordinary great from the\nisland to the coast of Africa.\nSuch a voyage, and with such a desperate crew, I believe was never made,\nfor it is certain we took the worst side of the island to look for any\nshipping, especially for shipping of other nations, this being quite out\nof the way; however, we put to sea, after taking all our provisions and\nammunition, bag and baggage, on board; we had made both mast and sail\nfor our two large periaguas, and the other we paddled along as well as\nwe could; but when a gale sprung up, we took her in tow.\nWe sailed merrily forward for several days, meeting with nothing to\ninterrupt us. We saw several of the natives in small canoes catching\nfish, and sometimes we endeavoured to come near enough to speak with\nthem, but they were always shy and afraid of us, making in for the\nshore as soon as we attempted it; till one of our company remembered the\nsignal of friendship which the natives made us from the south part of\nthe island, viz., of setting up a long pole, and put us in mind that\nperhaps it was the same thing to them as a flag of truce to us. So we\nresolved to try it; and accordingly the next time we saw any of their\nfishing-boats at sea we put up a pole in our canoe that had no sail, and\nrowed towards them. As soon as they saw the pole they stayed for us, and\nas we came nearer paddled towards us; when they came to us they showed\nthemselves very much pleased, and gave us some large fish, of which we\ndid not know the names, but they were very good. It was our misfortune\nstill that we had nothing to give them in return; but our artist, of\nwhom I spoke before, gave them two little thin plates of silver, beaten,\nas I said before, out of a piece of eight; they were cut in a diamond\nsquare, longer one way than the other, and a hole punched at one of the\nlongest corners. This they were so fond of that they made us stay till\nthey had cast their lines and nets again, and gave us as many fish as we\ncared to have.\nAll this while we had our eyes upon their boats, viewed them very\nnarrowly, and examined whether any of them were fit for our turn, but\nthey were poor, sorry things; their sail was made of a large mat, only\none that was of a piece of cotton stuff fit for little, and their ropes\nwere twisted flags of no strength; so we concluded we were better as\nwe were, and let them alone. We went forward to the north, keeping the\ncoast close on board for twelve days together, and having the wind at\neast and E.S.E., we made very fresh way. We saw no towns on the shore,\nbut often saw some huts by the water-side upon the rocks, and always\nabundance of people about them, who we could perceive run together to\nstare at us.\nIt was as odd a voyage as ever man went; we were a little fleet of three\nships, and an army of between twenty and thirty as dangerous fellows as\never they had amongst them; and had they known what we were, they would\nhave compounded to give us everything we desired to be rid of us.\nOn the other hand, we were as miserable as nature could well make us to\nbe, for we were upon a voyage and no voyage, we were bound somewhere and\nnowhere; for though we knew what we intended to do, we did really not\nknow what we were doing. We went forward and forward by a northerly\ncourse, and as we advanced the heat increased, which began to be\nintolerable to us, who were on the water, without any covering from heat\nor wet; besides, we were now in the month of October, or thereabouts,\nin a southern latitude; and as we went every day nearer the sun, the sun\ncame also every day nearer to us, till at last we found ourselves in the\nlatitude of 20 degrees; and having passed the tropic about five or six\ndays before that, in a few days more the sun would be in the zenith,\njust over our heads.\nUpon these considerations we resolved to seek for a good place to go on\nshore again, and pitch our tents, till the heat of the weather abated.\nWe had by this time measured half the length of the island, and were\ncome to that part where the shore tending away to the north-west,\npromised fair to make our passage over to the mainland of Africa much\nshorter than we expected. But, notwithstanding that, we had good reason\nto believe it was about 120 leagues.\nSo, the heats considered, we resolved to take harbour; besides, our\nprovisions were exhausted, and we had not many days' store left.\nAccordingly, putting in for the shore early in the morning, as we\nusually did once in three or four days for fresh water, we sat down and\nconsidered whether we would go on or take up our standing there; but\nupon several considerations, too long to repeat here, we did not like\nthe place, so we resolved to go on a few days longer.\nAfter sailing on N.W. by N. with a fresh gale at S.E., about six days,\nwe found, at a great distance, a large promontory or cape of land,\npushing out a long way into the sea, and as we were exceeding fond of\nseeing what was beyond the cape, we resolved to double it before we took\ninto harbour, so we kept on our way, the gale continuing, and yet it\nwas four days more before we reached the cape. But it is not possible\nto express the discouragement and melancholy that seized us all when\nwe came thither; for when we made the headland of the cape, we were\nsurprised to see the shore fall away on the other side as much as it had\nadvanced on this side, and a great deal more; and that, in short, if we\nwould venture over to the shore of Africa, it must be from hence, for\nthat if we went further, the breadth of the sea still increased, and to\nwhat breadth it might increase we knew not.\nWhile we mused upon this discovery, we were surprised with very bad\nweather, and especially violent rains, with thunder and lightning,\nmost unusually terrible to us. In this pickle we run for the shore, and\ngetting under the lee of the cape, run our frigates into a little creek,\nwhere we saw the land overgrown with trees, and made all the haste\npossible to get on shore, being exceeding wet, and fatigued with the\nheat, the thunder, lightning, and rain.\nHere we thought our case was very deplorable indeed, and therefore our\nartist, of whom I have spoken so often, set up a great cross of wood on\nthe hill which was within a mile of the headland, with these words, but\nin the Portuguese language:--\n\"Point Desperation. Jesus have mercy.\"\nWe set to work immediately to build us some huts, and to get our clothes\ndried; and though I was young and had no skill in such things, yet I\nshall never forget the little city we built, for it was no less, and we\nfortified it accordingly; and the idea is so fresh in my thought, that I\ncannot but give a short description of it.\nOur camp was on the south side of a little creek on the sea, and under\nthe shelter of a steep hill, which lay, though on the other side of\nthe creek, yet within a quarter of a mile of us, N.W. by N., and very\nhappily intercepted the heat of the sun all the after part of the day.\nThe spot we pitched on had a little fresh water brook, or a stream\nrunning into the creek by us; and we saw cattle feeding in the plains\nand low ground east and to the south of us a great way.\nHere we set up twelve little huts like soldiers' tents, but made of the\nboughs of trees stuck in the ground, and bound together on the top\nwith withies, and such other things as we could get; the creek was our\ndefence on the north, a little brook on the west, and the south and east\nsides were fortified with a bank, which entirely covered our huts; and\nbeing drawn oblique from the north-west to the south-east, made our city\na triangle. Behind the bank or line our huts stood, having three other\nhuts behind them at a good distance. In one of these, which was a little\none, and stood further off, we put our gunpowder, and nothing else, for\nfear of danger; in the other, which was bigger, we dressed our victuals,\nand put all our necessaries; and in the third, which was biggest of all,\nwe ate our dinners, called our councils, and sat and diverted ourselves\nwith such conversation as we had one with another, which was but\nindifferent truly at that time.\nOur correspondence with the natives was absolutely necessary, and our\nartist the cutler having made abundance of those little diamond-cut\nsquares of silver, with these we made shift to traffic with the black\npeople for what we wanted; for indeed they were pleased wonderfully with\nthem, and thus we got plenty of provisions. At first, and in particular,\nwe got about fifty head of black cattle and goats, and our cook's mate\ntook care to cure them and dry them, salt and preserve them for our\ngrand supply; nor was this hard to do, the salt and saltpetre being very\ngood, and the sun excessively hot; and here we lived about four months.\nThe southern solstice was over, and the sun gone back towards the\nequinoctial, when we considered of our next adventure, which was to go\nover the sea of Zanguebar, as the Portuguese call it, and to land, if\npossible, upon the continent of Africa.\nWe talked with many of the natives about it, such as we could make\nourselves intelligible to, but all that we could learn from them was,\nthat there was a great land of lions beyond the sea, but that it was a\ngreat way off. We knew as well as they that it was a long way, but our\npeople differed mightily about it; some said it was 150 leagues, others\nnot above 100. One of our men, that had a map of the world, showed us\nby his scale that it was not above eighty leagues. Some said there were\nislands all the way to touch at, some that there were no islands at all.\nFor my own part, I knew nothing of this matter one way or another, but\nheard it all without concern, whether it was near or far off; however,\nthis we learned from an old man who was blind and led about by a boy,\nthat if we stayed till the end of August, we should be sure of the wind\nto be fair and the sea smooth all the voyage.\nThis was some encouragement; but staying again was very unwelcome news\nto us, because that then the sun would be returning again to the south,\nwhich was what our men were very unwilling to. At last we called a\ncouncil of our whole body; their debates were too tedious to take notice\nof, only to note, that when it came to Captain Bob (for so they called\nme ever since I had taken state upon me before one of their great\nprinces), truly I was on no side; it was not one farthing matter to me,\nI told them, whether we went or stayed; I had no home, and all the world\nwas alike to me; so I left it entirely to them to determine.\nIn a word, they saw plainly there was nothing to be done where we were\nwithout shipping; that if our business indeed was only to eat and drink,\nwe could not find a better place in the world; but if our business was\nto get away, and get home into our country, we could not find a worse.\nI confess I liked the country wonderfully, and even then had strange\nnotions of coming again to live there; and I used to say to them very\noften that if I had but a ship of twenty guns, and a sloop, and both\nwell manned, I would not desire a better place in the world to make\nmyself as rich as a king.\nBut to return to the consultations they were in about going. Upon the\nwhole, it was resolved to venture over for the main; and venture we did,\nmadly enough, indeed, for it was the wrong time of the year to undertake\nsuch a voyage in that country; for, as the winds hang easterly all the\nmonths from September to March, so they generally hang westerly all the\nrest of the year, and blew right in our teeth; so that, as soon as\nwe had, with a kind of a land-breeze, stretched over about fifteen or\ntwenty leagues, and, as I may say, just enough to lose ourselves, we\nfound the wind set in a steady fresh gale or breeze from the sea, at\nwest, W.S.W., or S.W. by W., and never further from the west; so that,\nin a word, we could make nothing of it.\nOn the other hand, the vessel, such as we had, would not lie close upon\na wind; if so, we might have stretched away N.N.W., and have met with a\ngreat many islands in our way, as we found afterwards; but we could make\nnothing of it, though we tried, and by the trying had almost undone us\nall; for, stretching away to the north, as near the wind as we could, we\nhad forgotten the shape and position of the island of Madagascar itself;\nhow that we came off at the head of a promontory or point of land, that\nlies about the middle of the island, and that stretches out west a great\nway into the sea; and that now, being run a matter of forty leagues to\nthe north, the shore of the island fell off again above 200 miles to the\neast, so that we were by this time in the wide ocean, between the island\nand the main, and almost 100 leagues from both.\nIndeed, as the winds blew fresh at west, as before, we had a smooth sea,\nand we found it pretty good going before it, and so, taking our smallest\ncanoe in tow, we stood in for the shore with all the sail we could make.\nThis was a terrible adventure, for, if the least gust of wind had come,\nwe had been all lost, our canoes being deep and in no condition to make\nway in a high sea.\nThis voyage, however, held us eleven days in all; and at length, having\nspent most of our provisions, and every drop of water we had, we spied\nland, to our great joy, though at the distance of ten or eleven leagues;\nand as, under the land, the wind came off like a land-breeze, and blew\nhard against us, we were two days more before we reached the shore,\nhaving all that while excessive hot weather, and not a drop of water or\nany other liquor, except some cordial waters, which one of our company\nhad a little of left in a case of bottles.\nThis gave us a taste of what we should have done if we had ventured\nforward with a scant wind and uncertain weather, and gave us a surfeit\nof our design for the main, at least until we might have some better\nvessels under us; so we went on shore again, and pitched our camp\nas before, in as convenient manner as we could, fortifying ourselves\nagainst any surprise; but the natives here were exceeding courteous,\nand much more civil than on the south part of the island; and though we\ncould not understand what they said, or they us, yet we found means to\nmake them understand that we were seafaring men and strangers, and that\nwe were in distress for want of provisions.\nThe first proof we had of their kindness was, that as soon as they saw\nus come on shore and begin to make our habitation, one of their captains\nor kings, for we knew not what to call them, came down with five or six\nmen and some women, and brought us five goats and two young fat\nsteers, and gave them to us for nothing; and when we went to offer them\nanything, the captain or the king would not let any of them touch it,\nor take anything of us. About two hours after came another king, or\ncaptain, with forty or fifty men after him. We began to be afraid of\nhim, and laid hands upon our weapons; but he perceiving it, caused two\nmen to go before him, carrying two long poles in their hands, which they\nheld upright, as high as they could, which we presently perceived was\na signal of peace; and these two poles they set up afterwards, sticking\nthem up in the ground; and when the king and his men came to these\ntwo poles, they struck all their lances up in the ground, and came on\nunarmed, leaving their lances, as also their bows and arrows, behind\nthem.\nThis was to satisfy us that they were come as friends, and we were glad\nto see it, for we had no mind to quarrel with them if we could help it.\nThe captain of this gang seeing some of our men making up their huts,\nand that they did it but bunglingly, he beckoned to some of his men to\ngo and help us. Immediately fifteen or sixteen of them came and mingled\namong us, and went to work for us; and indeed, they were better workmen\nthan we were, for they run up three or four huts for us in a moment, and\nmuch handsomer done than ours.\nAfter this they sent us milk, plantains, pumpkins, and abundance of\nroots and greens that were very good, and then took their leave, and\nwould not take anything from us that we had. One of our men offered the\nking or captain of these men a dram, which he drank and was mightily\npleased with it, and held out his hand for another, which we gave him;\nand in a word, after this, he hardly failed coming to us two or three\ntimes a week, always bringing us something or other; and one time sent\nus seven head of black cattle, some of which we cured and dried as\nbefore.\nAnd here I cannot but remember one thing, which afterwards stood us in\ngreat stead, viz., that the flesh of their goats, and their beef also,\nbut especially the former, when we had dried and cured it, looked red,\nand ate hard and firm, as dried beef in Holland; they were so pleased\nwith it, and it was such a dainty to them, that at any time after they\nwould trade with us for it, not knowing, or so much as imagining what it\nwas; so that for ten or twelve pounds' weight of smoke-dried beef, they\nwould give us a whole bullock, or cow, or anything else we could desire.\nHere we observed two things that were very material to us, even\nessentially so; first, we found they had a great deal of earthenware\nhere, which they made use of many ways as we did; particularly they had\nlong, deep earthen pots, which they used to sink into the ground, to\nkeep the water which they drunk cool and pleasant; and the other was,\nthat they had larger canoes than their neighbours had.\nBy this we were prompted to inquire if they had no larger vessels than\nthose we saw there, or if any other of the inhabitants had not such.\nThey signified presently that they had no larger boats than that they\nshowed us; but that on the other side of the island they had larger\nboats, and that with decks upon them, and large sails; and this made us\nresolve to coast round the whole island to see them; so we prepared and\nvictualled our canoe for the voyage, and, in a word, went to sea for the\nthird time.\nIt cost us a month or six weeks' time to perform this voyage, in which\ntime we went on shore several times for water and provisions, and found\nthe natives always very free and courteous; but we were surprised one\nmorning early, being at the extremity of the northernmost part of the\nisland, when one of our men cried out, \"A sail! a sail!\" We presently\nsaw a vessel a great way out at sea; but after we had looked at it with\nour perspective glasses, and endeavoured all we could to make out what\nit was, we could not tell what to think of it; for it was neither ship,\nketch, galley, galliot, or like anything that we had ever seen before;\nall that we could make of it was, that it went from us, standing out to\nsea. In a word, we soon lost sight of it, for we were in no condition\nto chase anything, and we never saw it again; but, by all that we could\nperceive of it, from what we saw of such things afterwards, it was some\nArabian vessel, which had been trading to the coast of Mozambique, or\nZanzibar, the same place where we afterwards went, as you shall hear.\nI kept no journal of this voyage, nor indeed did I all this while\nunderstand anything of navigation, more than the common business of a\nforemast-man; so I can say nothing to the latitudes or distances of any\nplaces we were at, how long we were going, or how far we sailed in\na day; but this I remember, that being now come round the island, we\nsailed up the eastern shore due south, as we had done down the western\nshore due north before.\nNor do I remember that the natives differed much from one another,\neither in stature or complexion, or in their manners, their habits,\ntheir weapons, or indeed in anything; and yet we could not perceive that\nthey had any intelligence one with another; but they were extremely kind\nand civil to us on this side, as well as on the other.\nWe continued our voyage south for many weeks, though with several\nintervals of going on shore to get provisions and water. At length,\ncoming round a point of land which lay about a league further than\nordinary into the sea, we were agreeably surprised with a sight which,\nno doubt, had been as disagreeable to those concerned, as it was\npleasant to us. This was the wreck of an European ship, which had been\ncast away upon the rocks, which in that place run a great way into the\nsea.\nWe could see plainly, at low water, a great deal of the ship lay dry;\neven at high water, she was not entirely covered; and that at most she\ndid not lie above a league from the shore. It will easily be believed\nthat our curiosity led us, the wind and weather also permitting, to\ngo directly to her, which we did without any difficulty, and presently\nfound that it was a Dutch-built ship, and that she could not have been\nvery long in that condition, a great deal of the upper work of her stern\nremaining firm, with the mizzen-mast standing. Her stern seemed to be\njammed in between two ridges of the rock, and so remained fast, all the\nfore part of the ship having been beaten to pieces.\nWe could see nothing to be gotten out of the wreck that was worth our\nwhile; but we resolved to go on shore, and stay some time thereabouts,\nto see if perhaps we might get any light into the story of her; and\nwe were not without hopes that we might hear something more particular\nabout her men, and perhaps find some of them on shore there, in the same\ncondition that we were in, and so might increase our company.\nIt was a very pleasant sight to us when, coming on shore, we saw all\nthe marks and tokens of a ship-carpenter's yard; as a launch-block and\ncradles, scaffolds and planks, and pieces of planks, the remains of\nthe building a ship or vessel; and, in a word, a great many things\nthat fairly invited us to go about the same work; and we soon came to\nunderstand that the men belonging to the ship that was lost had saved\nthemselves on shore, perhaps in their boat, and had built themselves a\nbarque or sloop, and so were gone to sea again; and, inquiring of the\nnatives which way they went, they pointed to the south and south-west,\nby which we could easily understand they were gone away to the Cape of\nGood Hope.\nNobody will imagine we could be so dull as not to gather from hence that\nwe might take the same method for our escape; so we resolved first, in\ngeneral, that we would try if possible to build us a boat of one kind or\nother, and go to sea as our fate should direct.\nIn order to this our first work was to have the two carpenters search\nabout to see what materials the Dutchmen had left behind them that might\nbe of use; and, in particular, they found one that was very useful,\nand which I was much employed about, and that was a pitch-kettle, and a\nlittle pitch in it.\nWhen we came to set close to this work we found it very laborious and\ndifficult, having but few tools, no ironwork, no cordage, no sails; so\nthat, in short, whatever we built, we were obliged to be our own smiths,\nrope-makers, sail-makers, and indeed to practise twenty trades that we\nknew little or nothing of. However, necessity was the spur to invention,\nand we did many things which before we thought impracticable, that is to\nsay, in our circumstances.\nAfter our two carpenters had resolved upon the dimensions of what they\nwould build, they set us all to work, to go off in our boats and split\nup the wreck of the old ship, and to bring away everything we could; and\nparticularly that, if possible, we should bring away the mizzen-mast,\nwhich was left standing, which with much difficulty we effected, after\nabove twenty days' labour of fourteen of our men.\nAt the same time we got out a great deal of ironwork, as bolts, spikes,\nnails, &c., all of which our artist, of whom I have spoken already, who\nwas now grown a very dexterous smith, made us nails and hinges for our\nrudder, and spikes such as we wanted.\nBut we wanted an anchor, and if we had had an anchor, we could not have\nmade a cable; so we contented ourselves with making some ropes with the\nhelp of the natives, of such stuff as they made their mats of, and with\nthese we made such a kind of cable or tow-line as was sufficient to\nfasten our vessel to the shore, which we contented ourselves with for\nthat time.\nTo be short, we spent four months here, and worked very hard too; at the\nend of which time we launched our frigate, which, in a few words, had\nmany defects, but yet, all things considered, it was as well as we could\nexpect it to be.\nIn short, it was a kind of sloop, of the burthen of near eighteen\nor twenty tons; and had we had masts and sails, standing and running\nrigging, as is usual in such cases, and other conveniences, the vessel\nmight have carried us wherever we could have had a mind to go; but of\nall the materials we wanted, this was the worst, viz., that we had no\ntar or pitch to pay the seams and secure the bottom; and though we did\nwhat we could, with tallow and oil, to make a mixture to supply that\npart, yet we could not bring it to answer our end fully; and when we\nlaunched her into the water, she was so leaky, and took in the water so\nfast, that we thought all our labour had been lost, for we had much ado\nto make her swim; and as for pumps, we had none, nor had we any means to\nmake one.\nBut at length one of the natives, a black negro-man, showed us a tree,\nthe wood of which being put into the fire, sends forth a liquid that is\nas glutinous and almost as strong as tar, and of which, by boiling, we\nmade a sort of stuff which served us for pitch, and this answered our\nend effectually; for we perfectly made our vessel sound and tight, so\nthat we wanted no pitch or tar at all. This secret has stood me in stead\nupon many occasions since that time in the same place.\nOur vessel being thus finished, out of the mizzen-mast of the ship we\nmade a very good mast to her, and fitted our sails to it as well as we\ncould; then we made a rudder and tiller, and, in a word, everything that\nour present necessity called upon us for; and having victualled her, and\nput as much fresh water on board as we thought we wanted, or as we knew\nhow to stow (for we were yet without casks), we put to sea with a fair\nwind.\nWe had spent near another year in these rambles, and in this piece\nof work; for it was now, as our men said, about the beginning of\nour February, and the sun went from us apace, which was much to our\nsatisfaction, for the heats were exceedingly violent. The wind, as I\nsaid, was fair; for, as I have since learned, the winds generally spring\nup to the eastward, as the sun goes from them to the north.\nOur debate now was, which way we should go, and never were men so\nirresolute; some were for going to the east, and stretching away\ndirectly for the coast of Malabar; but others, who considered more\nseriously the length of that voyage, shook their heads at the proposal,\nknowing very well that neither our provisions, especially of water,\nor our vessel, were equal to such a run as that is, of near 2000 miles\nwithout any land to touch at in the way.\nThese men, too, had all along had a great mind to a voyage for the\nmainland of Africa, where they said we should have a fair cast for our\nlives, and might be sure to make ourselves rich, which way soever we\nwent, if we were but able to make our way through, whether by sea or by\nland.\nBesides, as the case stood with us, we had not much choice for our way;\nfor, if we had resolved for the east, we were at the wrong season of the\nyear, and must have stayed till April or May before we had gone to sea.\nAt length, as we had the wind at S.E. and E.S.E., and fine promising\nweather, we came all into the first proposal, and resolved for the coast\nof Africa; nor were we long in disputing as to our coasting the island\nwhich we were upon, for we were now upon the wrong side of the island\nfor the voyage we intended; so we stood away to the north, and, having\nrounded the cape, we hauled away southward, under the lee of the island,\nthinking to reach the west point of land, which, as I observed before,\nruns out so far towards the coast of Africa, as would have shortened our\nrun almost 100 leagues. But when we had sailed about thirty leagues, we\nfound the winds variable under the shore, and right against us, so we\nconcluded to stand over directly, for then we had the wind fair, and our\nvessel was but very ill fated to lie near the wind, or any way indeed\nbut just before it.\nHaving resolved upon it, therefore, we put into the shore to furnish\nourselves again with fresh water and other provisions, and about the\nlatter end of March, with more courage than discretion, more resolution\nthan judgment, we launched for the main coast of Africa.\nAs for me, I had no anxieties about it, so that we had but a view of\nreaching some land or other, I cared not what or where it was to be,\nhaving at this time no views of what was before me, nor much thought of\nwhat might or might not befall me; but with as little consideration as\nany one can be supposed to have at my age, I consented to everything\nthat was proposed, however hazardous the thing itself, however\nimprobable the success.\nThe voyage, as it was undertaken with a great deal of ignorance and\ndesperation, so really it was not carried on with much resolution or\njudgment; for we knew no more of the course we were to steer than this,\nthat it was anywhere about the west, within two or three points N. or\nS., and as we had no compass with us but a little brass pocket compass,\nwhich one of our men had more by accident than otherwise, so we could\nnot be very exact in our course.\nHowever, as it pleased God that the wind continued fair at S.E. and by\nE., we found that N.W. by W., which was right afore it, was as good a\ncourse for us as any we could go, and thus we went on.\nThe voyage was much longer than we expected; our vessel also, which had\nno sail that was proportioned to her, made but very little way in the\nsea, and sailed heavily. We had, indeed, no great adventures happened\nin this voyage, being out of the way of everything that could offer to\ndivert us; and as for seeing any vessel, we had not the least occasion\nto hail anything in all the voyage; for we saw not one vessel, small\nor great, the sea we were upon being entirely out of the way of all\ncommerce; for the people of Madagascar knew no more of the shores of\nAfrica than we did, only that there was a country of lions, as they call\nit, that way.\nWe had been eight or nine days under sail, with a fair wind, when, to\nour great joy, one of our men cried out \"Land!\" We had great reason to\nbe glad of the discovery, for we had not water enough left for above two\nor three days more, though at a short allowance. However, though it was\nearly in the morning when we discovered it, we made it near night before\nwe reached it, the wind slackening almost to a calm, and our ship being,\nas I said, a very dull sailer.\nWe were sadly baulked upon our coming to the land, when we found that,\ninstead of the mainland of Africa, it was only a little island, with no\ninhabitants upon it, at least none that we could find; nor any cattle,\nexcept a few goats, of which we killed three only. However, they served\nus for fresh meat, and we found very good water; and it was fifteen days\nmore before we reached the main, which, however, at last we arrived at,\nand which was most essential to us, as we came to it just as all our\nprovisions were spent. Indeed, we may say they were spent first, for we\nhad but a pint of water a day to each man for the last two days. But, to\nour great joy, we saw the land, though at a great distance, the evening\nbefore, and by a pleasant gale in the night were by morning within two\nleagues of the shore.\nWe never scrupled going ashore at the first place we came at, though,\nhad we had patience, we might have found a very fine river a little\nfarther north. However, we kept our frigate on float by the help of two\ngreat poles, which we fastened into the ground to moor her, like poles;\nand the little weak ropes, which, as I said, we had made of matting,\nserved us well enough to make the vessel fast.\nAs soon as we had viewed the country a little, got fresh water, and\nfurnished ourselves with some victuals, which we found very scarce here,\nwe went on board again with our stores. All we got for provision was\nsome fowls that we killed, and a kind of wild buffalo or bull, very\nsmall, but good meat; I say, having got these things on board, we\nresolved to sail along the coast, which lay N.N.E., till we found some\ncreek or river, that we might run up into the country, or some town\nor people; for we had reason enough to know the place was inhabited,\nbecause we several times saw fires in the night, and smoke in the day,\nevery way at a distance from us.\nAt length we came to a very large bay, and in it several little creeks\nor rivers emptying themselves into the sea, and we ran boldly into the\nfirst creek we came at; where, seeing some huts and wild people about\nthem on the shore, we ran our vessel into a little cove on the north\nside of the creek, and held up a long pole, with a white bit of cloth\non it, for a signal of peace to them. We found they understood us\npresently, for they came flocking to us, men, women, and children, most\nof them, of both sexes, stark naked. At first they stood wondering\nand staring at us, as if we had been monsters, and as if they had been\nfrighted; but we found they inclined to be familiar with us afterwards.\nThe first thing we did to try them, was, we held up our hands to our\nmouths, as if we were to drink, signifying that we wanted water. This\nthey understood presently, and three of their women and two boys ran\naway up the land, and came back in about half a quarter of an hour, with\nseveral pots, made of earth, pretty enough, and baked, I suppose, in\nthe sun; these they brought us full of water, and set them down near the\nsea-shore, and there left them, going back a little, that we might fetch\nthem, which we did.\nSome time after this, they brought us roots and herbs, and some fruits\nwhich I cannot remember, and gave us; but as we had nothing to give\nthem, we found them not so free as the people in Madagascar were.\nHowever, our cutler went to work, and, as he had saved some iron out\nof the wreck of the ship, he made abundance of toys, birds, dogs, pins,\nhooks, and rings; and we helped to file them, and make them bright for\nhim, and when we gave them some of these, they brought us all sorts of\nprovisions they had, such as goats, hogs, and cows, and we got victuals\nenough.\nWe were now landed upon the continent of Africa, the most desolate,\ndesert, and inhospitable country in the world, even Greenland and Nova\nZembla itself not excepted, with this difference only, that even the\nworst part of it we found inhabited, though, taking the nature and\nquality of some of the inhabitants, it might have been much better to us\nif there had been none.\nAnd, to add to the exclamation I am making on the nature of the place,\nit was here that we took one of the rashest, and wildest, and most\ndesperate resolutions that ever was taken by man, or any number of men,\nin the world; this was, to travel overland through the heart of the\ncountry, from the coast of Mozambique, on the east ocean, to the coast\nof Angola or Guinea, on the western or Atlantic Ocean, a continent of\nland of at least 1800 miles, in which journey we had excessive heats to\nsupport, unpassable deserts to go over, no carriages, camels, or beasts\nof any kind to carry our baggage, innumerable numbers of wild and\nravenous beasts to encounter with, such as lions, leopards, tigers,\nlizards, and elephants; we had the equinoctial line to pass under, and,\nconsequently, were in the very centre of the torrid zone; we had nations\nof savages to encounter with, barbarous and brutish to the last degree;\nhunger and thirst to struggle with, and, in one word, terrors enough to\nhave daunted the stoutest hearts that ever were placed in cases of flesh\nand blood.\nYet, fearless of all these, we resolved to adventure, and accordingly\nmade such preparations for our journey as the place we were in would\nallow us, and such as our little experience of the country seemed to\ndictate to us.\nIt had been some time already that we had been used to tread barefooted\nupon the rocks, the gravel, the grass, and the sand on the shore; but as\nwe found the worst thing for our feet was the walking or travelling on\nthe dry burning sands, within the country, so we provided ourselves with\na sort of shoes, made of the skins of wild beasts, with the hair inward,\nand being dried in the sun, the outsides were thick and hard, and would\nlast a great while. In short, as I called them, so I think the term very\nproper still, we made us gloves for our feet, and we found them very\nconvenient and very comfortable.\nWe conversed with some of the natives of the country, who were friendly\nenough. What tongue they spoke I do not yet pretend to know. We\ntalked as far as we could make them understand us, not only about our\nprovisions, but also about our undertaking, and asked them what country\nlay that way, pointing west with our hands. They told us but little to\nour purpose, only we thought, by all their discourse, that there were\npeople to be found, of one sort or other, everywhere; that there were\nmany great rivers, many lions and tigers, elephants, and furious wild\ncats (which in the end we found to be civet cats), and the like.\nWhen we asked them if any one had ever travelled that way, they told\nus yes, some had gone to where the sun sleeps, meaning to the west, but\nthey could not tell us who they were. When we asked for some to guide\nus, they shrunk up their shoulders as Frenchmen do when they are afraid\nto undertake a thing. When we asked them about the lions and wild\ncreatures, they laughed, and let us know that they would do us no hurt,\nand directed us to a good way indeed to deal with them, and that was to\nmake some fire, which would always fright them away; and so indeed we\nfound it.\nUpon these encouragements we resolved upon our journey, and many\nconsiderations put us upon it, which, had the thing itself been\npracticable, we were not so much to blame for as it might otherwise be\nsupposed; I will name some of them, not to make the account too tedious.\nFirst, we were perfectly destitute of means to work about our own\ndeliverance any other way; we were on shore in a place perfectly remote\nfrom all European navigation; so that we could never think of being\nrelieved, and fetched off by any of our own countrymen in that part of\nthe world. Secondly, if we had adventured to have sailed on along the\ncoast of Mozambique, and the desolate shores of Africa to the north,\ntill we came to the Red Sea, all we could hope for there was to be taken\nby the Arabs, and be sold for slaves to the Turks, which to all of us\nwas little better than death. We could not build anything of a vessel\nthat would carry us over the great Arabian Sea to India, nor could we\nreach the Cape de Bona Speranza, the winds being too variable, and the\nsea in that latitude too tempestuous; but we all knew, if we could cross\nthis continent of land, we might reach some of the great rivers that run\ninto the Atlantic Ocean; and that, on the banks of any of those rivers,\nwe might there build us canoes which would carry us down, if it were\nthousands of miles, so that we could want nothing but food, of which we\nwere assured we might kill sufficient with our guns; and to add to the\nsatisfaction of our deliverance, we concluded we might, every one of\nus, get a quantity of gold, which, if we came safe, would infinitely\nrecompense us for our toil.\nI cannot say that in all our consultations I ever began to enter into\nthe weight and merit of any enterprise we went upon till now. My view\nbefore was, as I thought, very good, viz., that we should get into the\nArabian Gulf, or the mouth of the Red Sea; and waiting for some vessel\npassing or repassing there, of which there is plenty, have seized upon\nthe first we came at by force, and not only have enriched ourselves with\nher cargo, but have carried ourselves to what part of the world we had\npleased; but when they came to talk to me of a march of 2000 or 3000\nmiles on foot, of wandering in deserts among lions and tigers, I confess\nmy blood ran chill, and I used all the arguments I could to persuade\nthem against it.\nBut they were all positive, and I might as well have held my tongue; so\nI submitted, and told them I would keep to our first law, to be governed\nby the majority, and we resolved upon our journey. The first thing we\ndid was to take an observation, and see whereabouts in the world we\nwere, which we did, and found we were in the latitude of 12 degrees 35\nminutes south of the line. The next thing was to look on the charts, and\nsee the coast of the country we aimed at, which we found to be from 8 to\n11 degrees south latitude, if we went for the coast of Angola, or in 12\nto 29 degrees north latitude, if we made for the river Niger, and the\ncoast of Guinea.\nOur aim was for the coast of Angola, which, by the charts we had, lying\nvery near the same latitude we were then in, our course thither was due\nwest; and as we were assured we should meet with rivers, we doubted not\nbut that by their help we might ease our journey, especially if we could\nfind means to cross the great lake, or inland sea, which the natives\ncall Coalmucoa, out of which it is said the river Nile has its source\nor beginning; but we reckoned without our host, as you will see in the\nsequel of our story.\nThe next thing we had to consider was, how to carry our baggage, which\nwe were first of all determined not to travel without; neither indeed\nwas it possible for us to do so, for even our ammunition, which was\nabsolutely necessary to us, and on which our subsistence, I mean for\nfood, as well as our safety, and particularly our defence against wild\nbeasts and wild men, depended,--I say, even our ammunition was a load\ntoo heavy for us to carry in a country where the heat was such that we\nshould be load enough for ourselves.\nWe inquired in the country, and found there was no beast of burthen\nknown among them, that is to say, neither horses or mules, or asses,\ncamels, or dromedaries; the only creature they had was a kind of\nbuffalo, or tame bull, such a one as we had killed; and that some of\nthese they had brought so to their hand, that they taught them to go and\ncome with their voices, as they called them to them, or sent them from\nthem; that they made them carry burthens; and particularly that they\nwould swim over rivers and lakes upon them, the creatures swimming very\nhigh and strong in the water.\nBut we understood nothing of the management of guiding such a\ncreature, or how to bind a burthen upon them; and this last part of our\nconsultation puzzled us extremely. At last I proposed a method for them,\nwhich, after some consideration, they found very convenient; and this\nwas, to quarrel with some of the negro natives, take ten or twelve of\nthem prisoners, and binding them as slaves, cause them to travel with\nus, and make them carry our baggage; which I alleged would be convenient\nand useful many ways as well to show us the way, as to converse with\nother natives for us.\nThis counsel was not accepted at first, but the natives soon gave them\nreason to approve it, and also gave them an opportunity to put it in\npractice; for, as our little traffic with the natives was hitherto upon\nthe faith of their first kindness, we found some knavery among them at\nlast; for having bought some cattle of them for our toys, which, as\nI said, our cutler had contrived, one of our men differing with his\nchapman, truly they huffed him in their manner, and, keeping the things\nhe had offered them for the cattle, made their fellows drive away the\ncattle before his face, and laugh at him. Our man crying out loud of\nthis violence, and calling to some of us who were not far off, the negro\nhe was dealing with threw a lance at him, which came so true, that, if\nhe had not with great agility jumped aside, and held up his hand also\nto turn the lance as it came, it had struck through his body; and, as it\nwas, it wounded him in the arm; at which the man, enraged, took up his\nfuzee, and shot the negro through the heart.\nThe others that were near him, and all those that were with us at\na distance, were so terribly frighted, first, at the flash of fire;\nsecondly, at the noise; and thirdly, at seeing their countryman killed,\nthat they stood like men stupid and amazed, at first, for some time; but\nafter they were a little recovered from their fright, one of them, at a\ngood distance from us, set up a sudden screaming noise, which, it\nseems, is the noise they make when they go to fight; and all the rest\nunderstanding what he meant, answered him, and ran together to the place\nwhere he was, and we not knowing what it meant, stood still, looking\nupon one another like a parcel of fools.\nBut we were presently undeceived; for, in two or three minutes more,\nwe heard the screaming roaring noise go on from one place to another,\nthrough all their little towns; nay, even over the creek to the other\nside; and, on a sudden, we saw a naked multitude running from all parts\nto the place where the first man began it, as to a rendezvous; and, in\nless than an hour, I believe there was near 500 of them gotten together,\narmed some with bows and arrows, but most with lances, which they throw\nat a good distance, so nicely that they will strike a bird flying.\nWe had but a very little time for consultation, for the multitude was\nincreasing every moment; and I verily believe, if we had stayed long,\nthey would have been 10,000 together in a little time. We had nothing\nto do, therefore, but to fly to our ship or bark, where indeed we could\nhave defended ourselves very well, or to advance and try what a volley\nor two of small shot would do for us.\nWe resolved immediately upon the latter, depending upon it that the fire\nand terror of our shot would soon put them to flight; so we drew up all\nin a line, and marched boldly up to them. They stood ready to meet us,\ndepending, I suppose, to destroy us all with their lances; but before\nwe came near enough for them to throw their lances, we halted, and,\nstanding at a good distance from one another, to stretch our line as far\nas we could, we gave them a salute with our shot, which, besides what we\nwounded that we knew not of, knocked sixteen of them down upon the spot,\nand three more were so lamed, that they fell about twenty or thirty\nyards from them.\nAs soon as we had fired, they set up the horridest yell, or howling,\npartly raised by those that were wounded, and partly by those that\npitied and condoled the bodies they saw lie dead, that I never heard\nanything like it before or since.\nWe stood stock still after we had fired, to load our guns again, and\nfinding they did not stir from the place we fired among them again; we\nkilled about nine of them at the second fire; but as they did not stand\nso thick as before, all our men did not fire, seven of us being ordered\nto reserve our charge, and to advance as soon as the other had fired,\nwhile the rest loaded again; of which I shall speak again presently.\nAs soon as we had fired the second volley, we shouted as loud as we\ncould, and the seven men advanced upon them, and, coming about twenty\nyards nearer, fired again, and those that were behind having loaded\nagain with all expedition, followed; but when they saw us advance, they\nran screaming away as if they were bewitched.\nWhen we came up to the field of battle, we saw a great number of bodies\nlying upon the ground, many more than we could suppose were killed or\nwounded; nay, more than we had bullets in our pieces when we fired; and\nwe could not tell what to make of it; but at length we found how it\nwas, viz., that they were frighted out of all manner of sense; nay, I do\nbelieve several of those that were really dead, were frighted to death,\nand had no wound about them.\nOf those that were thus frighted, as I have said, several of them, as\nthey recovered themselves, came and worshipped us (taking us for gods or\ndevils, I know not which, nor did it much matter to us): some kneeling,\nsome throwing themselves flat on the ground, made a thousand antic\ngestures, but all with tokens of the most profound submission. It\npresently came into my head, that we might now, by the law of arms, take\nas many prisoners as we would, and make them travel with us, and carry\nour baggage. As soon as I proposed it, our men were all of my mind; and\naccordingly we secured about sixty lusty young fellows, and let them\nknow they must go with us; which they seemed very willing to do. But\nthe next question we had among ourselves, was, how we should do to trust\nthem, for we found the people not like those of Madagascar, but fierce,\nrevengeful, and treacherous; for which reason we were sure that we\nshould have no service from them but that of mere slaves; no subjection\nthat would continue any longer than the fear of us was upon them, nor\nany labour but by violence.\nBefore I go any farther, I must hint to the reader, that from this time\nforward I began to enter a little more seriously into the circumstance\nI was in, and concerned myself more in the conduct of our affairs; for\nthough my comrades were all older men, yet I began to find them void of\ncounsel, or, as I now call it, presence of mind, when they came to the\nexecution of a thing. The first occasion I took to observe this, was in\ntheir late engagement with the natives, when, though they had taken a\ngood resolution to attack them and fire upon them, yet, when they had\nfired the first time, and found that the negroes did not run as they\nexpected, their hearts began to fail, and I am persuaded, if their bark\nhad been near hand, they would every man have run away.\nUpon this occasion I began to take upon me a little to hearten them\nup, and to call upon them to load again, and give them another volley,\ntelling them that I would engage, if they would be ruled by me, I'd make\nthe negroes run fast enough. I found this heartened them, and therefore,\nwhen they fired a second time, I desired them to reserve some of their\nshot for an attempt by itself, as I mentioned above.\nHaving fired a second time, I was indeed forced to command, as I may\ncall it. \"Now, seigniors,\" said I, \"let us give them a cheer.\" So I\nopened my throat, and shouted three times, as our English sailors do on\nlike occasions. \"And now follow me,\" said I to the seven that had not\nfired, \"and I'll warrant you we will make work with them,\" and so it\nproved indeed; for, as soon as they saw us coming, away they ran, as\nabove.\nFrom this day forward they would call me nothing but Seignior Capitanio;\nbut I told them I would not be called seignior. \"Well, then,\" said the\ngunner, who spoke good English, \"you shall be called Captain Bob;\" and\nso they gave me my title ever after.\nNothing is more certain of the Portuguese than this, take them\nnationally or personally, if they are animated and heartened up by\nanybody to go before, and encourage them by example, they will behave\nwell enough; but if they have nothing but their own measures to follow,\nthey sink immediately: these men had certainly fled from a parcel of\nnaked savages, though even by flying they could not have saved their\nlives, if I had not shouted and hallooed, and rather made sport with the\nthing than a fight, to keep up their courage.\nNor was there less need of it upon several occasions hereafter; and I do\nconfess I have often wondered how a number of men, who, when they came\nto the extremity, were so ill supported by their own spirits, had\nat first courage to propose and to undertake the most desperate and\nimpracticable attempt that ever men went about in the world.\nThere were indeed two or three indefatigable men among them, by whose\ncourage and industry all the rest were upheld; and indeed those two or\nthree were the managers of them from the beginning; that was the gunner,\nand that cutler whom I call the artist; and the third, who was pretty\nwell, though not like either of them, was one of the carpenters. These\nindeed were the life and soul of all the rest, and it was to their\ncourage that all the rest owed the resolution they showed upon any\noccasion. But when those saw me take a little upon me, as above, they\nembraced me, and treated me with particular affection ever after.\nThis gunner was an excellent mathematician, a good scholar, and a\ncomplete sailor; and it was in conversing intimately with him that I\nlearned afterwards the grounds of what knowledge I have since had in all\nthe sciences useful for navigation, and particularly in the geographical\npart of knowledge.\nEven in our conversation, finding me eager to understand and learn, he\nlaid the foundation of a general knowledge of things in my mind, gave\nme just ideas of the form of the earth and of the sea, the situation of\ncountries, the course of rivers, the doctrine of the spheres, the motion\nof the stars; and, in a word, taught me a kind of system of astronomy,\nwhich I afterwards improved.\nIn an especial manner, he filled my head with aspiring thoughts, and\nwith an earnest desire after learning everything that could be taught\nme; convincing me, that nothing could qualify me for great undertakings,\nbut a degree of learning superior to what was usual in the race of\nseamen; he told me, that to be ignorant was to be certain of a\nmean station in the world, but that knowledge was the first step to\npreferment. He was always flattering me with my capacity to learn; and\nthough that fed my pride, yet, on the other hand, as I had a secret\nambition, which just at that time fed itself in my mind, it prompted in\nme an insatiable thirst after learning in general, and I resolved, if\never I came back to Europe, and had anything left to purchase it, I\nwould make myself master of all the parts of learning needful to\nthe making of me a complete sailor; but I was not so just to myself\nafterwards as to do it when I had an opportunity.\nBut to return to our business; the gunner, when he saw the service I\nhad done in the fight, and heard my proposal for keeping a number of\nprisoners for our march, and for carrying our baggage, turns to me\nbefore them all. \"Captain Bob,\" says he, \"I think you must be our\nleader, for all the success of this enterprise is owing to you.\" \"No,\nno,\" said I, \"do not compliment me; you shall be our Seignior Capitanio,\nyou shall be general; I am too young for it.\" So, in short, we all\nagreed he should be our leader; but he would not accept of it alone, but\nwould have me joined with him; and all the rest agreeing, I was obliged\nto comply.\nThe first piece of service they put me upon in this new command was\nas difficult as any they could think of, and that was to manage the\nprisoners; which, however, I cheerfully undertook, as you shall hear\npresently. But the immediate consultation was yet of more consequence;\nand that was, first, which way we should go; and secondly, how to\nfurnish ourselves for the voyage with provisions.\nThere was among the prisoners one tall, well-shaped, handsome fellow,\nto whom the rest seemed to pay great respect, and who, as we understood\nafterwards, was the son of one of their kings; his father was, it seems,\nkilled at our first volley, and he wounded with a shot in his arm, and\nwith another just on one of his hips or haunches. The shot in his haunch\nbeing in a fleshy part, bled much, and he was half dead with the loss of\nblood. As to the shot in his arm, it had broke his wrist, and he was by\nboth these wounds quite disabled, so that we were once going to turn him\naway, and let him die; and, if we had, he would have died indeed in a\nfew days more: but, as I found the man had some respect showed him, it\npresently occurred to my thoughts that we might bring him to be useful\nto us, and perhaps make him a kind of commander over them. So I caused\nour surgeon to take him in hand, and gave the poor wretch good words,\nthat is to say, I spoke to him as well as I could by signs, to make him\nunderstand that we would make him well again.\nThis created a new awe in their minds of us, believing that, as we could\nkill at a distance by something invisible to them (for so our shot was,\nto be sure), so we could make them well again too. Upon this the young\nprince (for so we called him afterwards) called six or seven of the\nsavages to him, and said something to them; what it was we know not, but\nimmediately all the seven came to me, and kneeled down to me, holding up\ntheir hands, and making signs of entreaty, pointing to the place where\none of those lay whom we had killed.\nIt was a long time before I or any of us could understand them; but one\nof them ran and lifted up a dead man, pointing to his wound, which was\nin his eyes, for he was shot into the head at one of his eyes. Then\nanother pointed to the surgeon, and at last we found it out, that the\nmeaning was, that he should heal the prince's father too, who was dead,\nbeing shot through the head, as above.\nWe presently took the hint, and would not say we could not do it, but\nlet them know, the men that were killed were those that had first fallen\nupon us, and provoked us, and we would by no means make them alive\nagain; and that, if any others did so, we would kill them too, and never\nlet them live any more: but that, if he (the prince) would be willing\nto go with us, and do as we should direct him, we would not let him die,\nand would make his arm well. Upon this he bid his men go and fetch a\nlong stick or staff, and lay on the ground. When they brought it, we saw\nit was an arrow; he took it with his left hand (for his other was lame\nwith the wound), and, pointing up at the sun, broke the arrow in two,\nand set the point against his breast, and then gave it to me. This was,\nas I understood afterwards, wishing the sun, whom they worship, might\nshoot him into the breast with an arrow, if ever he failed to be my\nfriend; and giving the point of the arrow to me was to be a testimony\nthat I was the man he had sworn to: and never was Christian more\npunctual to an oath than he was to this, for he was a sworn servant to\nus for many a weary month after that.\nWhen I brought him to the surgeon, he immediately dressed the wound in\nhis haunch or buttock, and found the bullet had only grazed upon the\nflesh, and passed, as it were, by it, but it was not lodged in the part,\nso that it was soon healed and well again; but, as to his arm, he found\none of the bones broken, which are in the fore-part from the wrist to\nthe elbow; and this he set, and splintered it up, and bound his arm in a\nsling, hanging it about his neck, and making signs to him that he should\nnot stir it; which he was so strict an observer of, that he set him\ndown, and never moved one way or other but as the surgeon gave him\nleave.\nI took a great deal of pains to acquaint this negro what we intended\nto do, and what use we intended to make of his men; and particularly\nto teach him the meaning of what we said, especially to teach him some\nwords, such as yes and no, and what they meant, and to inure him to\nour way of talking; and he was very willing and apt to learn anything I\ntaught him.\nIt was easy to let him see that we intended to carry our provision with\nus from the first day; but he made signs to us to tell us we need not,\nfor we should find provision enough everywhere for forty days. It was\nvery difficult for us to understand how he expressed forty; for he\nknew no figures, but some words that they used to one another that they\nunderstood it by. At last one of the negroes, by his order, laid forty\nlittle stones one by another, to show us how many days we should travel,\nand find provisions sufficient.\nThen I showed him our baggage, which was very heavy, particularly our\npowder, shot, lead, iron, carpenters' tools, seamen's instruments, cases\nof bottles, and other lumber. He took some of the things up in his hand\nto feel the weight, and shook his head at them; so I told our people\nthey must resolve to divide their things into small parcels, and make\nthem portable; and accordingly they did so, by which means we were fain\nto leave all our chests behind us, which were eleven in number.\nThen he made signs to us that he would procure some buffaloes, or young\nbulls, as I called them, to carry things for us, and made signs, too,\nthat if we were weary, we might be carried too; but that we slighted,\nonly were willing to have the creatures, because, at last, when they\ncould serve us no farther for carriage, we might eat them all up if we\nhad any occasion for them.\nI then carried him to our bark, and showed him what things we had here.\nHe seemed amazed at the sight of our bark, having never seen anything\nof that kind before, for their boats are most wretched things, such as\nI never saw before, having no head or stern, and being made only of the\nskins of goats, sewed together with dried guts of goats and sheep, and\ndone over with a kind of slimy stuff like rosin and oil, but of a most\nnauseous, odious smell; and they are poor miserable things for boats,\nthe worst that any part of the world ever saw; a canoe is an excellent\ncontrivance compared to them.\nBut to return to our boat. We carried our new prince into it, and helped\nhim over the side, because of his lameness. We made signs to him that\nhis men must carry our goods for us, and showed him what we had; he\nanswered, \"Si, Seignior,\" or, \"Yes, sir\" (for we had taught him that\nword and the meaning of it), and taking up a bundle, he made signs to\nus, that when his arm was well he would carry some for us.\nI made signs again to tell him, that if he would make his men carry\nthem, we would not let him carry anything. We had secured all the\nprisoners in a narrow place, where we had bound them with mat cords, and\nset up stakes like a palisado round them; so, when we carried the prince\non shore, we went with him to them, and made signs to him to ask them if\nthey were willing to go with us to the country of lions. Accordingly he\nmade a long speech to them, and we could understand by it that he told\nthem, if they were willing, they must say, \"Si, Seignior,\" telling\nthem what it signified. They immediately answered, \"Si, Seignior,\" and\nclapped their hands, looking up to the sun, which, the prince signified\nto us, was swearing to be faithful. But as soon as they had said so, one\nof them made a long speech to the prince; and in it we perceived, by his\ngestures, which were very antic, that they desired something from us,\nand that they were in great concern about it. So I asked him, as well as\nI could, what it was they desired of us; he told us by signs that they\ndesired we should clap our hands to the sun (that was, to swear) that we\nwould not kill them, that we would give them chiaruck, that is to say,\nbread, would not starve them, and would not let the lions eat them.\nI told him we would promise all that; then he pointed to the sun, and\nclapped his hands, signing to me that I should do so too, which I did;\nat which all the prisoners fell flat on the ground, and rising up again,\nmade the oddest, wildest cries that ever I heard.\nI think it was the first time in my life that ever any religious thought\naffected me; but I could not refrain some reflections, and almost tears,\nin considering how happy it was that I was not born among such creatures\nas these, and was not so stupidly ignorant and barbarous; but this soon\nwent off again, and I was not troubled again with any qualms of that\nsort for a long time after.\nWhen this ceremony was over, our concern was to get some provisions,\nas well for the present subsistence of our prisoners as ourselves; and\nmaking signs to our prince that we were thinking upon that subject, he\nmade signs to me that, if I would let one of the prisoners go to his\ntown, he should bring provisions, and should bring some beasts to carry\nour baggage. I seemed loth to trust him, and supposing that he would\nrun away, he made great signs of fidelity, and with his own hands tied a\nrope about his neck, offering me one end of it, intimating that I should\nhang him if the man did not come again. So I consented, and he gave him\nabundance of instructions, and sent him away, pointing to the light of\nthe sun, which it seems was to tell him at what time he must be back.\nThe fellow ran as if he was mad, and held it till he was quite out of\nsight, by which I supposed he had a great way to go. The next morning,\nabout two hours before the time appointed, the black prince, for so I\nalways called him, beckoning with his hand to me, and hallooing after\nhis manner, desired me to come to him, which I did, when, pointing to a\nlittle hill about two miles off, I saw plainly a little drove of cattle,\nand several people with them; those, he told me by signs, were the man\nhe had sent, and several more with him, and cattle for us.\nAccordingly, by the time appointed, he came quite to our huts, and\nbrought with him a great many cows, young runts, about sixteen goats,\nand four young bulls, taught to carry burthens.\nThis was a supply of provisions sufficient; as for bread, we were\nobliged to shift with some roots which we had made use of before. We\nthen began to consider of making some large bags like the soldiers'\nknapsacks, for their men to carry our baggage in, and to make it easy\nto them; and the goats being killed, I ordered the skins to be spread\nin the sun, and they were as dry in two days as could be desired; so we\nfound means to make such little bags as we wanted, and began to divide\nour baggage into them. When the black prince found what they were for,\nand how easy they were of carriage when we put them on, he smiled a\nlittle, and sent away the man again to fetch skins, and he brought two\nnatives more with him, all loaded with skins better cured than ours, and\nof other kinds, such as we could not tell what names to give them.\nThese two men brought the black prince two lances, of the sort they use\nin their fights, but finer than ordinary, being made of black smooth\nwood, as fine as ebony, and headed at the point with the end of a long\ntooth of some creature--we could not tell of what creature; the head was\nso firm put on, and the tooth so strong, though no bigger than my thumb,\nand sharp at the end, that I never saw anything like it in any place in\nthe world.\nThe prince would not take them till I gave him leave, but made signs\nthat they should give them to me; however, I gave him leave to take them\nhimself, for I saw evident signs of an honourable just principle in him.\nWe now prepared for our march, when the prince coming to me, and\npointing towards the several quarters of the world, made signs to know\nwhich way we intended to go; and when I showed him, pointing to the\nwest, he presently let me know there was a great river a little further\nto the north, which was able to carry our bark many leagues into the\ncountry due west. I presently took the hint, and inquired for the mouth\nof the river, which I understood by him was above a day's march, and, by\nour estimation, we found it about seven leagues further. I take this to\nbe the great river marked by our chart-makers at the northmost part of\nthe coast of Mozambique, and called there Quilloa.\nConsulting thus with ourselves, we resolved to take the prince, and as\nmany of the prisoners as we could stow in our frigate, and go about\nby the bay into the river; and that eight of us, with our arms, should\nmarch by land to meet them on the river side; for the prince, carrying\nus to a rising ground, had showed us the river very plain, a great way\nup the country, and in one place it was not above six miles to it.\nIt was my lot to march by land, and be captain of the whole caravan.\nI had eight of our men with me, and seven-and-thirty of our prisoners,\nwithout any baggage, for all our luggage was yet on board. We drove the\nyoung bulls with us; nothing was ever so tame, so willing to work, or\ncarry anything. The negroes would ride upon them four at a time, and\nthey would go very willingly. They would eat out of our hand, lick our\nfeet, and were as tractable as a dog.\nWe drove with us six or seven cows for food; but our negroes knew\nnothing of curing the flesh by salting and drying it till we showed them\nthe way, and then they were mighty willing to do so as long as we had\nany salt to do it with, and to carry salt a great way too, after we\nfound we should have no more.\nIt was an easy march to the river side for us that went by land, and\nwe came thither in a piece of a day, being, as above, no more than six\nEnglish miles; whereas it was no less than five days before they came\nto us by water, the wind in the bay having failed them, and the way, by\nreason of a great turn or reach in the river, being about fifty miles\nabout.\nWe spent this time in a thing which the two strangers, which brought the\nprince the two lances, put into the head of the prisoners, viz., to make\nbottles of the goats' skins to carry fresh water in, which it seems they\nknew we should come to want; and the men did it so dexterously, having\ndried skins fetched them by those two men, that before our vessel came\nup, they had every man a pouch like a bladder, to carry fresh water in,\nhanging over their shoulders by a thong made of other skins, about three\ninches broad, like the sling of a fuzee.\nOur prince, to assure us of the fidelity of the men in this march,\nhad ordered them to be tied two and two by the wrist, as we handcuff\nprisoners in England; and made them so sensible of the reasonableness of\nit, that he made them do it themselves, appointing four of them to bind\nthe rest; but we found them so honest, and particularly so obedient\nto him, that after we were gotten a little further off of their own\ncountry, we set them at liberty, though, when he came to us, he would\nhave them tied again, and they continued so a good while.\nAll the country on the bank of the river was a high land, no marshy\nswampy ground in it; the verdure good, and abundance of cattle feeding\nupon it wherever we went, or which way soever we looked; there was\nnot much wood indeed, at least not near us; but further up we saw oak,\ncedar, and pine-trees, some of which were very large.\nThe river was a fair open channel, about as broad as the Thames below\nGravesend, and a strong tide of flood, which we found held us about\nsixty miles; the channel deep, nor did we find any want of water for a\ngreat way. In short, we went merrily up the river with the flood and\nthe wind blowing still fresh at E. and E.N.E. We stemmed the ebb easily\nalso, especially while the river continued broad and deep; but when we\ncame past the swelling of the tide, and had the natural current of the\nriver to go against, we found it too strong for us, and began to think\nof quitting our bark; but the prince would by no means agree to that,\nfor, finding we had on board pretty good store of roping made of mats\nand flags, which I described before, he ordered all the prisoners which\nwere on shore to come and take hold of those ropes, and tow us along by\nthe shore side; and as we hoisted our sail too, to ease them, the men\nran along with us at a very great rate.\nIn this manner the river carried us up, by our computation, near 200\nmiles, and then it narrowed apace, and was not above as broad as the\nThames is at Windsor, or thereabouts; and, after another day, we came\nto a great waterfall or cataract, enough to fright us, for I believe the\nwhole body of water fell at once perpendicularly down a precipice\nabove sixty foot high, which made noise enough to deprive men of their\nhearing, and we heard it above ten miles before we came to it.\nHere we were at a full stop, and now our prisoners went first on shore;\nthey had worked very hard and very cheerfully, relieving one another,\nthose that were weary being taken into the bark. Had we had canoes or\nany boats which might have been carried by men's strength we might have\ngone two hundred miles more up this river in small boats, but our great\nboat could go no farther.\nAll this way the country looked green and pleasant, and was full of\ncattle, and some people we saw, though not many; but this we observed\nnow, that the people did no more understand our prisoners here than\nwe could understand them; being, it seems, of different nations and of\ndifferent speech. We had yet seen no wild beasts, or, at least, none\nthat came very near us, except two days before we came to the waterfall,\nwhen we saw three of the most beautiful leopards that ever were seen,\nstanding upon the bank of the river on the north side, our prisoners\nbeing all on the other side of the water. Our gunner espied them first,\nand ran to fetch his gun, putting a ball extraordinary in it; and coming\nto me, \"Now, Captain Bob,\" says he, \"where is your prince?\" So I called\nhim out. \"Now,\" says he, \"tell your men not to be afraid; tell them they\nshall see that thing in his hand speak in fire to one of those beasts,\nand make it kill itself.\"\nThe poor negroes looked as if they had been all going to be killed,\nnotwithstanding what their prince said to them, and stood staring to\nexpect the issue, when on a sudden the gunner fired; and as he was a\nvery good marksman, he shot the creature with two slugs, just in the\nhead. As soon as the leopard felt herself struck, she reared up on her\ntwo hind-legs, bolt upright, and throwing her forepaws about in the air,\nfell backward, growling and struggling, and immediately died; the other\ntwo, frighted with the fire and the noise, fled, and were out of sight\nin an instant.\nBut the two frighted leopards were not in half the consternation that\nour prisoners were; four or five of them fell down as if they had been\nshot; several others fell on their knees, and lifted up their hands to\nus; whether to worship us, or pray us not to kill them, we did not know;\nbut we made signs to their prince to encourage them, which he did, but\nit was with much ado that he brought them to their senses. Nay, the\nprince, notwithstanding all that was said to prepare him for it, yet\nwhen the piece went off, he gave a start as if he would have leaped into\nthe river.\nWhen we saw the creature killed, I had a great mind to have the skin of\nher, and made signs to the prince that he should send some of his men\nover to take the skin off. As soon as he spoke but a word, four of them,\nthat offered themselves, were untied, and immediately they jumped into\nthe river, and swam over, and went to work with him. The prince having a\nknife that we gave him, made four wooden knives so clever, that I never\nsaw anything like them in my life; and in less than an hour's time they\nbrought me the skin of the leopard, which was a monstrous great one, for\nit was from the ears to the tale about seven foot, and near five foot\nbroad on the back, and most admirably spotted all over. The skin of this\nleopard I brought to London many years after.\nWe were now all upon a level as to our travelling, being unshipped, for\nour bark would swim no farther, and she was too heavy to carry on our\nbacks; but as we found the course of the river went a great way farther,\nwe consulted our carpenters whether we could not pull the bark in\npieces, and make us three or four small boats to go on with. They told\nus we might do so, but it would be very long a-doing; and that, when\nwe had done, we had neither pitch or tar to make them sound to keep the\nwater out, or nails to fasten the plank. But one of them told us that as\nsoon as he could come at any large tree near the river, he would make\nus a canoe or two in a quarter of the time, and which would serve us\nas well for all the uses we could have any occasion for as a boat; and\nsuch, that if we came to any waterfalls, we might take them up, and\ncarry them for a mile or two by land upon our shoulders.\nUpon this we gave over the thoughts of our frigate, and hauling her into\na little cove or inlet, where a small brook came into the main river,\nwe laid her up for those that came next, and marched forward. We spent\nindeed two days dividing our baggage, and loading our tame buffaloes\nand our negroes. Our powder and shot, which was the thing we were most\ncareful of, we ordered thus:--First, the powder we divided into little\nleather bags, that is to say, bags of dried skins, with the hair inward,\nthat the powder might not grow damp; and then we put those bags into\nother bags, made of bullocks' skins, very thick and hard, with the hair\noutward, that no wet might come in; and this succeeded so well, that in\nthe greatest rains we had, whereof some were very violent and very long,\nwe always kept our powder dry. Besides these bags, which held our chief\nmagazine, we divided to every one a quarter of a pound of powder, and\nhalf a pound of shot, to carry always about us; which, as it was enough\nfor our present use, so we were willing to have no weight to carry more\nthan was absolutely necessary, because of the heat.\nWe kept still on the bank of the river, and for that reason had but very\nlittle communication with the people of the country; for, having also\nour bark stored with plenty of provisions, we had no occasion to look\nabroad for a supply; but now, when we came to march on foot, we were\nobliged often to seek out for food. The first place we came to on the\nriver, that gave us any stop, was a little negro town, containing about\nfifty huts, and there appeared about 400 people, for they all came out\nto see us, and wonder at us. When our negroes appeared the inhabitants\nbegan to fly to arms, thinking there had been enemies coming upon them;\nbut our negroes, though they could not speak their language, made signs\nto them that they had no weapons, and were tied two and two together as\ncaptives, and that there were people behind who came from the sun, and\nthat could kill them all, and make them alive again, if they pleased;\nbut that they would do them no hurt, and came with peace. As soon as\nthey understood this they laid down their lances, and bows and arrows,\nand came and stuck twelve large stakes in the ground as a token of\npeace, bowing themselves to us in token of submission. But as soon as\nthey saw white men with beards, that is to say, with mustachios, they\nran screaming away, as in a fright.\nWe kept at a distance from them, not to be too familiar; and when we did\nappear it was but two or three of us at a time. But our prisoners\nmade them understand that we required some provisions of them; so\nthey brought us some black cattle, for they have abundance of cows and\nbuffaloes all over that side of the country, as also great numbers of\ndeer. Our cutler, who had now a great stock of things of his handiwork,\ngave them some little knick-knacks, as plates of silver and of iron,\ncut diamond fashion, and cut into hearts and into rings, and they were\nmightily pleased. They also brought several fruits and roots, which we\ndid not understand, but our negroes fed heartily on them, and after we\nhad seen them eat them, we did so too.\nHaving stocked ourselves here with flesh and root as much as we could\nwell carry, we divided the burthens among our negroes, appointing about\nthirty to forty pounds weight to a man, which we thought indeed was load\nenough in a hot country; and the negroes did not at all repine at it,\nbut would sometimes help one another when they began to be weary, which\ndid happen now and then, though not often; besides, as most of their\nluggage was our provision, it lightened every day, like Aesop's basket\nof bread, till we came to get a recruit.--Note, when we loaded them we\nuntied their hands, and tied them two and two together by one foot.\nThe third day of our march from this place our chief carpenter desired\nus to halt, and set up some huts, for he had found out some trees that\nhe liked, and resolved to make us some canoes; for, as he told me, he\nknew we should have marching enough on foot after we left the river, and\nhe was resolved to go no farther by land than needs must.\nWe had no sooner given orders for our little camp, and given leave to\nour negroes to lay down their loads, but they fell to work to build our\nhuts; and though they were tied as above, yet they did it so nimbly as\nsurprised us. Here we set some of the negroes quite at liberty, that is\nto say, without tying them, having the prince's word passed for their\nfidelity; and some of these were ordered to help the carpenters, which\nthey did very handily, with a little direction, and others were sent\nto see whether they could get any provisions near hand; but instead of\nprovisions, three of them came in with two bows and arrows, and five\nlances. They could not easily make us understand how they came by them,\nonly that they had surprised some negro women, who were in some huts,\nthe men being from home, and they had found the lances and bows in the\nhuts, or houses, the women and children flying away at the sight of\nthem, as from robbers. We seemed very angry at them, and made the prince\nask them if they had not killed any of the women or children, making\nthem believe that, if they had killed anybody, we would make them kill\nthemselves too; but they protested their innocence, so we excused them.\nThen they brought us the bows and arrows and lances; but, at a motion of\ntheir black prince, we gave them back the bows and arrows, and gave them\nleave to go out to see what they could kill for food; and here we gave\nthem the laws of arms, viz., that if any man appeared to assault them,\nor shoot at them to offer any violence to them, they might kill them;\nbut that they should not offer to kill or hurt any that offered them\npeace, or laid down their weapons, nor any women or children, upon any\noccasion whatsoever. These were our articles of war.\nThese two fellows had not been gone out above three or four hours, but\none of them came running to us without his bow and arrows, hallooing and\nwhooping a great while before he came at us, \"Okoamo, okoamo!\" which,\nit seems, was, \"Help, help!\" The rest of the negroes rose up in a hurry,\nand by twos, as they could, ran forward towards their fellows, to know\nwhat the matter was. As for me, I did not understand it, nor any of our\npeople; the prince looked as if something unlucky had fallen out, and\nsome of our men took up their arms to be ready on occasion. But the\nnegroes soon discovered the thing, for we saw four of them presently\nafter coming along with a great load of meat upon their backs. The case\nwas, that the two who went out with their bows and arrows, meeting with\na great herd of deer in the plain, had been so nimble as to shoot three\nof them, and then one of them came running to us for help to fetch them\naway. This was the first venison we had met with in all our march, and\nwe feasted upon it very plentifully; and this was the first time we\nbegan to prevail with our prince to eat his meat dressed our way; after\nwhich his men were prevailed with by his example, but before that, they\nate most of the flesh they had quite raw.\nWe wished now we had brought some bows and arrows out with us, which we\nmight have done; and we began to have so much confidence in our negroes,\nand to be so familiar with them, that we oftentimes let them go, or the\ngreatest part of them, untied, being well assured they would not leave\nus, and that they did not know what course to take without us; but one\nthing we resolved not to trust them with, and that was the charging our\nguns: but they always believed our guns had some heavenly power in them,\nthat would send forth fire and smoke, and speak with a dreadful noise,\nand kill at a distance whenever we bid them.\nIn about eight days we finished three canoes, and in them we embarked\nour white men and our baggage, with our prince, and some of the\nprisoners. We also found it needful to keep some of ourselves always on\nshore, not only to manage the negroes, but to defend them from enemies\nand wild beasts. Abundance of little incidents happened upon this march,\nwhich it is impossible to crowd into this account; particularly, we\nsaw more wild beasts now than we did before, some elephants, and two or\nthree lions, none of which kinds we had seen any of before; and we\nfound our negroes were more afraid of them a great deal than we were;\nprincipally, because they had no bows and arrows, or lances, which were\nthe particular weapons they were bred up to the exercise of.\nBut we cured them of their fears by being always ready with our\nfirearms. However, as we were willing to be sparing of our powder, and\nthe killing of any of the creatures now was no advantage to us, seeing\ntheir skins were too heavy for us to carry, and their flesh not good to\neat, we resolved therefore to keep some of our pieces uncharged and only\nprimed; and causing them to flash in the pan, the beasts, even the\nlions themselves, would always start and fly back when they saw it, and\nimmediately march off.\nWe passed abundance of inhabitants upon this upper part of the river,\nand with this observation, that almost every ten miles we came to a\nseparate nation, and every separate nation had a different speech,\nor else their speech had differing dialects, so that they did not\nunderstand one another. They all abounded in cattle, especially on the\nriver-side; and the eighth day of this second navigation we met with\na little negro town, where they had growing a sort of corn like rice,\nwhich ate very sweet; and, as we got some of it of the people, we made\nvery good cakes of bread of it, and, making a fire, baked them on the\nground, after the fire was swept away, very well; so that hitherto we\nhad no want of provisions of any kind that we could desire.\nOur negroes towing our canoes, we travelled at a considerable rate, and\nby our own account could not go less than twenty or twenty-five English\nmiles a day, and the river continuing to be much of the same breadth\nand very deep all the way, till on the tenth day we came to another\ncataract; for a ridge of high hills crossing the whole channel of the\nriver, the water came tumbling down the rocks from one stage to another\nin a strange manner, so that it was a continued link of cataracts from\none to another, in the manner of a cascade, only that the falls were\nsometimes a quarter of a mile from one another, and the noise confused\nand frightful.\nWe thought our voyaging was at a full stop now; but three of us, with\na couple of our negroes, mounting the hills another way, to view the\ncourse of the river, we found a fair channel again after about half a\nmile's march, and that it was like to hold us a good way further. So\nwe set all hands to work, unloaded our cargo, and hauled our canoes on\nshore, to see if we could carry them.\nUpon examination we found that they were very heavy; but our carpenters,\nspending but one day's work upon them, hewed away so much of the timber\nfrom their outsides as reduced them very much, and yet they were as fit\nto swim as before. When this was done, ten men with poles took up one\nof the canoes and made nothing to carry it. So we ordered twenty men to\neach canoe, that one ten might relieve the other; and thus we carried\nall our canoes, and launched them into the water again, and then fetched\nour luggage and loaded it all again into the canoes, and all in an\nafternoon; and the next morning early we moved forward again. When we\nhad towed about four days more, our gunner, who was our pilot, began to\nobserve that we did not keep our right course so exactly as we ought,\nthe river winding away a little towards the north, and gave us notice\nof it accordingly. However, we were not willing to lose the advantage of\nwater-carriage, at least not till we were forced to it; so we jogged on,\nand the river served us for about threescore miles further; but then\nwe found it grew very small and shallow, having passed the mouths of\nseveral little brooks or rivulets which came into it; and at length it\nbecame but a brook itself.\nWe towed up as far as ever our boats would swim, and we went two days\nthe farther--having been about twelve days in this last part of the\nriver--by lightening the boats and taking our luggage out, which we made\nthe negroes carry, being willing to ease ourselves as long as we could;\nbut at the end of these two days, in short, there was not water enough\nto swim a London wherry.\nWe now set forward wholly by land, and without any expectation of more\nwater-carriage. All our concern for more water was to be sure to have a\nsupply for our drinking; and therefore upon every hill that we came near\nwe clambered up to the highest part to see the country before us, and\nto make the best judgment we could which way to go to keep the lowest\ngrounds, and as near some stream of water as we could.\nThe country held verdant, well grown with trees, and spread with rivers\nand brooks, and tolerably well with inhabitants, for about thirty days'\nmarch after our leaving the canoes, during which time things went pretty\nwell with us; we did not tie ourselves down when to march and when to\nhalt, but ordered those things as our convenience and the health and\nease of our people, as well our servants as ourselves, required.\nAbout the middle of this march we came into a low and plain country,\nin which we perceived a greater number of inhabitants than in any other\ncountry we had gone through; but that which was worse for us, we found\nthem a fierce, barbarous, treacherous people, and who at first looked\nupon us as robbers, and gathered themselves in numbers to attack us.\nOur men were terrified at them at first, and began to discover an\nunusual fear, and even our black prince seemed in a great deal of\nconfusion; but I smiled at him, and showing him some of our guns, I\nasked him if he thought that which killed the spotted cat (for so they\ncalled the leopard in their language) could not make a thousand of those\nnaked creatures die at one blow? Then he laughed, and said, yes, he\nbelieved it would. \"Well, then,\" said I, \"tell your men not to be afraid\nof these people, for we shall soon give them a taste of what we can do\nif they pretend to meddle with us.\" However, we considered we were in\nthe middle of a vast country, and we knew not what numbers of people\nand nations we might be surrounded with, and, above all, we knew not how\nmuch we might stand in need of the friendship of these that we were now\namong, so that we ordered the negroes to try all the methods they could\nto make them friends.\nAccordingly the two men who had gotten bows and arrows, and two more\nto whom we gave the prince's two fine lances, went foremost, with five\nmore, having long poles in their hands; and after them ten of our men\nadvanced toward the negro town that was next to us, and we all stood\nready to succour them if there should be occasion.\nWhen they came pretty near their houses our negroes hallooed in their\nscreaming way, and called to them as loud as they could. Upon their\ncalling, some of the men came out and answered, and immediately after\nthe whole town, men, women, and children, appeared; our negroes, with\ntheir long poles, went forward a little, and stuck them all in the\nground, and left them, which in their country was a signal of peace, but\nthe other did not understand the meaning of that. Then the two men with\nbows laid down their bows and arrows, went forward unarmed, and made\nsigns of peace to them, which at last the other began to understand; so\ntwo of their men laid down their bows and arrows, and came towards them.\nOur men made all the signs of friendship to them that they could think\nof, putting their hands up to their mouths as a sign that they wanted\nprovisions to eat; and the other pretended to be pleased and friendly,\nand went back to their fellows and talked with them a while, and they\ncame forward again, and made signs that they would bring some provisions\nto them before the sun set; and so our men came back again very well\nsatisfied for that time.\nBut an hour before sunset our men went to them again, just in the same\nposture as before, and they came according to their appointment, and\nbrought deer's flesh, roots, and the same kind of corn, like rice, which\nI mentioned above; and our negroes, being furnished with such toys as\nour cutler had contrived, gave them some of them, which they seemed\ninfinitely pleased with, and promised to bring more provisions the next\nday.\nAccordingly the next day they came again, but our men perceived they\nwere more in number by a great many than before. However, having sent\nout ten men with firearms to stand ready, and our whole army being in\nview also, we were not much surprised; nor was the treachery of the\nenemy so cunningly ordered as in other cases, for they might have\nsurrounded our negroes, which were but nine, under a show of peace; but\nwhen they saw our men advance almost as far as the place where they were\nthe day before, the rogues snatched up their bows and arrows and came\nrunning upon our men like so many furies, at which our ten men called\nto the negroes to come back to them, which they did with speed enough\nat the first word, and stood all behind our men. As they fled, the other\nadvanced, and let fly near a hundred of their arrows at them, by which\ntwo of our negroes were wounded, and one we thought had been killed.\nWhen they came to the five poles that our men had stuck in the ground,\nthey stood still awhile, and gathering about the poles, looked at them,\nand handled them, as wondering what they meant. We then, who were drawn\nup behind all, sent one of our number to our ten men to bid them fire\namong them while they stood so thick, and to put some small shot into\ntheir guns besides the ordinary charge, and to tell them that we would\nbe up with them immediately.\nAccordingly they made ready; but by the time they were ready to fire,\nthe black army had left their wandering about the poles, and began to\nstir as if they would come on, though seeing more men stand at some\ndistance behind our negroes, they could not tell what to make of us;\nbut if they did not understand us before, they understood us less\nafterwards, for as soon as ever our men found them to begin to move\nforward they fired among the thickest of them, being about the distance\nof 120 yards, as near as we could guess.\nIt is impossible to express the fright, the screaming and yelling\nof those wretches upon this first volley. We killed six of them, and\nwounded eleven or twelve, I mean as we knew of; for, as they stood\nthick, and the small shot, as we called it, scattered among them, we had\nreason to believe we wounded more that stood farther off, for our small\nshot was made of bits of lead and bits of iron, heads of nails, and such\nthings as our diligent artificer, the cutler, helped us to.\nAs to those that were killed and wounded, the other frighted creatures\nwere under the greatest amazement in the world, to think what should\nhurt them, for they could see nothing but holes made in their bodies\nthey knew not how. Then the fire and noise amazed all their women and\nchildren, and frighted them out of their wits, so that they ran staring\nand howling about like mad creatures.\nHowever, all this did not make them fly, which was what we wanted, nor\ndid we find any of them die as it were with fear, as at first; so we\nresolved upon a second volley, and then to advance as we did before.\nWhereupon our reserved men advancing, we resolved to fire only three men\nat a time, and move forward like an army firing in platoon; so, being\nall in a line, we fired, first three on the right, then three on the\nleft, and so on; and every time we killed or wounded some of them, but\nstill they did not fly, and yet they were so frighted that they used\nnone of their bows and arrows, or of their lances; and we thought their\nnumbers increased upon our hands, particularly we thought so by the\nnoise. So I called to our men to halt, and bid them pour in one whole\nvolley and then shout, as we did in our first fight, and so run in upon\nthem and knock them down with our muskets.\nBut they were too wise for that too, for as soon as we had fired a whole\nvolley and shouted, they all ran away, men, women, and children, so fast\nthat in a few moments we could not see one creature of them except some\nthat were wounded and lame, who lay wallowing and screaming here and\nthere upon the ground as they happened to fall.\nUpon this we came up to the field of battle, where we found we had\nkilled thirty-seven of them, among which were three women, and had\nwounded about sixty-four, among which were two women; by wounded I\nmean such as were so maimed as not to be able to go away, and those our\nnegroes killed afterwards in a cowardly manner in cold blood, for which\nwe were very angry, and threatened to make them go to them if they did\nso again.\nThere was no great spoil to be got, for they were all stark naked as\nthey came into the world, men and women together, some of them having\nfeathers stuck in their hair, and others a kind of bracelet about their\nnecks, but nothing else; but our negroes got a booty here, which we were\nvery glad of, and this was the bows and arrows of the vanquished, of\nwhich they found more than they knew what to do with, belonging to the\nkilled and wounded men; these we ordered them to pick up, and they\nwere very useful to us afterwards. After the fight, and our negroes had\ngotten bows and arrows, we sent them out in parties to see what they\ncould get, and they got some provisions; but, which was better than all\nthe rest, they brought us four more young bulls, or buffaloes, that\nhad been brought up to labour and to carry burthens. They knew them, it\nseems, by the burthens they had carried having galled their backs, for\nthey have no saddles to cover them with in that country.\nThose creatures not only eased our negroes, but gave us an opportunity\nto carry more provisions; and our negroes loaded them very hard at this\nplace with flesh and roots, such as we wanted very much afterwards.\nIn this town we found a very little young leopard, about two spans high;\nit was exceeding tame, and purred like a cat when we stroked it with our\nhands, being, as I suppose, bred up among the negroes like a house-dog.\nIt was our black prince, it seems, who, making his tour among the\nabandoned houses or huts, found this creature there, and making much of\nhim, and giving a bit or two of flesh to him, the creature followed him\nlike a dog; of which more hereafter.\nAmong the negroes that were killed in this battle there was one who had\na little thin bit or plate of gold, about as big as a sixpence, which\nhung by a little bit of a twisted gut upon his forehead, by which we\nsupposed he was a man of some eminence among them; but that was not all,\nfor this bit of gold put us upon searching very narrowly if there was\nnot more of it to be had thereabouts, but we found none at all.\nFrom this part of the country we went on for about fifteen days, and\nthen found ourselves obliged to march up a high ridge of mountains,\nfrightful to behold, and the first of the kind that we met with; and\nhaving no guide but our little pocket-compass, we had no advantage of\ninformation as to which was the best or the worst way, but was obliged\nto choose by what we saw, and shift as well as we could. We met with\nseveral nations of wild and naked people in the plain country before we\ncame to those hills, and we found them much more tractable and friendly\nthan those devils we had been forced to fight with; and though we could\nlearn little from these people, yet we understood by the signs they made\nthat there was a vast desert beyond these hills, and, as our negroes\ncalled them, much lion, much spotted cat (so they called the leopard);\nand they signed to us also that we must carry water with us. At the last\nof these nations we furnished ourselves with as much provisions as we\ncould possibly carry, not knowing what we had to suffer, or what length\nwe had to go; and, to make our way as familiar to us as possible, I\nproposed that of the last inhabitants we could find we should make some\nprisoners and carry them with us for guides over the desert, and to\nassist us in carrying provision, and, perhaps, in getting it too. The\nadvice was too necessary to be slighted; so finding, by our dumb signs\nto the inhabitants, that there were some people that dwelt at the foot\nof the mountains on the other side before we came to the desert itself,\nwe resolved to furnish ourselves with guides by fair means or foul.\nHere, by a moderate computation, we concluded ourselves 700 miles from\nthe sea-coast where we began. Our black prince was this day set free\nfrom the sling his arm hung in, our surgeon having perfectly restored\nit, and he showed it to his own countrymen quite well, which made them\ngreatly wonder. Also our two negroes began to recover, and their wounds\nto heal apace, for our surgeon was very skilful in managing their cure.\nHaving with infinite labour mounted these hills, and coming to a view\nof the country beyond them, it was indeed enough to astonish as stout a\nheart as ever was created. It was a vast howling wilderness--not a tree,\na river, or a green thing to be seen; for, as far as the eye could look,\nnothing but a scalding sand, which, as the wind blew, drove about in\nclouds enough to overwhelm man and beast. Nor could we see any end of\nit either before us, which was our way, or to the right hand or left;\nso that truly our men began to be discouraged, and talk of going back\nagain. Nor could we indeed think of venturing over such a horrid place\nas that before us, in which we saw nothing but present death.\nI was as much affected at the sight as any of them; but, for all that,\nI could not bear the thoughts of going back again. I told them we had\nmarched 700 miles of our way, and it would be worse than death to\nthink of going back again; and that, if they thought the desert was not\npassable, I thought we should rather change our course, and travel south\ntill we came to the Cape of Good Hope, or north to the country that lay\nalong the Nile, where, perhaps, we might find some way or other over to\nthe west sea; for sure all Africa was not a desert.\nOur gunner, who, as I said before, was our guide as to the situation\nof places, told us that he could not tell what to say to going for the\nCape, for it was a monstrous length, being from the place where we now\nwere not less than 1500 miles; and, by his account, we were now come a\nthird part of the way to the coast of Angola, where we should meet the\nwestern ocean, and find ways enough for our escape home. On the other\nhand, he assured us, and showed us a map of it, that, if we went\nnorthward, the western shore of Africa went out into the sea above\n1000 miles west, so that we should have so much and more land to travel\nafterwards; which land might, for aught we knew, be as wild, barren,\nand desert as this. And therefore, upon the whole, he proposed that we\nshould attempt this desert, and perhaps we should not find it so long\nas we feared; and however, he proposed that we should see how far our\nprovisions would carry us, and, in particular, our water; and we should\nventure no further than half so far as our water would last; and if we\nfound no end of the desert, we might come safely back again.\nThis advice was so reasonable that we all approved of it; and\naccordingly we calculated that we were able to carry provisions for\nforty-two days, but that we could not carry water for above twenty days,\nthough we were to suppose it to stink, too, before that time expired.\nSo that we concluded that, if we did not come at some water in ten days'\ntime, we would return; but if we found a supply of water, we could then\ntravel twenty-one days; and, if we saw no end of the wilderness in that\ntime, we would return also.\nWith this regulation of our measures, we descended the mountains, and it\nwas the second day before we quite reached the plain; where, however,\nto make us amends, we found a fine little rivulet of very good water,\nabundance of deer, a sort of creature like a hare, but not so nimble,\nbut whose flesh we found very agreeable. But we were deceived in our\nintelligence, for we found no people; so we got no more prisoners to\nassist us in carrying our baggage.\nThe infinite number of deer and other creatures which we saw here, we\nfound was occasioned by the neighbourhood of the waste or desert, from\nwhence they retired hither for food and refreshment. We stored ourselves\nhere with flesh and roots of divers kinds, which our negroes understood\nbetter than we, and which served us for bread; and with as much water as\n(by the allowance of a quart a day to a man for our negroes, and three\npints a day a man for ourselves, and three quarts a day each for our\nbuffaloes) would serve us twenty days; and thus loaded for a long\nmiserable march, we set forwards, being all sound in health and very\ncheerful, but not alike strong for so great a fatigue; and, which was\nour grievance, were without a guide.\nIn the very first entrance of the waste we were exceedingly discouraged,\nfor we found the sand so deep, and it scalded our feet so much with\nthe heat, that after we had, as I may call it, waded rather than walked\nthrough it about seven or eight miles, we were all heartily tired and\nfaint; even the very negroes laid down and panted like creatures that\nhad been pushed beyond their strength.\nHere we found the difference of lodging greatly injurious to us; for, as\nbefore, we always made us huts to sleep under, which covered us from the\nnight air, which is particularly unwholesome in those hot countries. But\nwe had here no shelter, no lodging, after so hard a march; for here were\nno trees, no, not a shrub near us; and, which was still more frightful,\ntowards night we began to hear the wolves howl, the lions bellow, and\na great many wild asses braying, and other ugly noises which we did not\nunderstand.\nUpon this we reflected upon our indiscretion, that we had not, at least,\nbrought poles or stakes in our hands, with which we might have, as it\nwere, palisadoed ourselves in for the night, and so we might have slept\nsecure, whatever other inconveniences we suffered. However, we found\na way at last to relieve ourselves a little; for first we set up the\nlances and bows we had, and endeavoured to bring the tops of them as\nnear to one another as we could, and so hung our coats on the top of\nthem, which made us a kind of sorry tent. The leopard's skin, and a few\nother skins we had put together, made us a tolerable covering, and thus\nwe laid down to sleep, and slept very heartily too, for the first night;\nsetting, however, a good watch, being two of our own men with their\nfuzees, whom we relieved in an hour at first, and two hours afterwards.\nAnd it was very well we did this, for they found the wilderness swarmed\nwith raging creatures of all kinds, some of which came directly up to\nthe very enclosure of our tent. But our sentinels were ordered not to\nalarm us with firing in the night, but to flash in the pan at them,\nwhich they did, and found it effectual, for the creatures went off\nalways as soon as they saw it, perhaps with some noise or howling, and\npursued such other game as they were upon.\nIf we were tired with the day's travel, we were all as much tired with\nthe night's lodging. But our black prince told us in the morning he\nwould give us some counsel, and indeed it was very good counsel. He told\nus we should be all killed if we went on this journey, and through this\ndesert, without some covering for us at night; so he advised us to march\nback again to a little river-side where we lay the night before, and\nstay there till we could make us houses, as he called them, to carry\nwith us to lodge in every night. As he began a little to understand our\nspeech, and we very well to understand his signs, we easily knew what he\nmeant, and that we should there make mats (for we remembered that we saw\na great deal of matting or bass there, that the natives make mats of)--I\nsay, that we should make large mats there for covering our huts or tents\nto lodge in at night.\nWe all approved this advice, and immediately resolved to go back that\none day's journey, resolving, though we carried less provisions, we\nwould carry mats with us to cover us in the night. Some of the nimblest\nof us got back to the river with more ease than we had travelled it the\nday before; but, as we were not in haste, the rest made a halt, encamped\nanother night, and came to us the next day.\nIn our return of this day's journey, our men that made two days of\nit met with a very surprising thing, that gave them some reason to be\ncareful how they parted company again. The case was this:--The second\nday in the morning, before they had gone half a mile, looking behind\nthem they saw a vast cloud of sand or dust rise in the air, as we see\nsometimes in the roads in summer when it is very dusty and a large drove\nof cattle are coming, only very much greater; and they could easily\nperceive that it came after them; and it came on faster as they went\nfrom it. The cloud of sand was so great that they could not see what it\nwas that raised it, and concluded that it was some army of enemies\nthat pursued them; but then considering that they came from the vast\nuninhabited wilderness, they knew it was impossible any nation or people\nthat way should have intelligence of them or the way of their march;\nand therefore, if it was an army, it must be of such as they were,\ntravelling that way by accident. On the other hand, as they knew that\nthere were no horses in the country, and that they came on so fast, they\nconcluded that it must be some vast collection of wild beasts, perhaps\nmaking to the hill country for food or water, and that they should be\nall devoured or trampled under foot by their multitude.\nUpon this thought, they very prudently observed which way the cloud\nseemed to point, and they turned a little out of their way to the north,\nsupposing it might pass by them. When they were about a quarter of a\nmile, they halted to see what it might be. One of the negroes, a nimbler\nfellow than the rest, went back a little, and came in a few minutes\nrunning as fast as the heavy sands would allow, and by signs gave them\nto know that it was a great herd, or drove, or whatever it might be\ncalled, of vast monstrous elephants.\nAs it was a sight our men had never seen, they were desirous to see it,\nand yet a little uneasy at the danger too; for though an elephant is a\nheavy unwieldy creature, yet in the deep sand, which is nothing at all\nto them, they marched at a great rate, and would soon have tired our\npeople, if they had had far to go, and had been pursued by them.\nOur gunner was with them, and had a great mind to have gone close up to\none of the outermost of them, and to have clapped his piece to his\near, and to have fired into him, because he had been told no shot would\npenetrate them; but they all dissuaded him, lest upon the noise they\nshould all turn upon and pursue us; so he was reasoned out of it, and\nlet them pass, which, in our people's circumstances, was certainly the\nright way.\nThey were between twenty and thirty in number, but prodigious great\nones; and though they often showed our men that they saw them, yet they\ndid not turn out of their way, or take any other notice of them than, as\nwe might say, just to look at them. We that were before saw the cloud of\ndust they raised, but we had thought it had been our own caravan, and so\ntook no notice; but as they bent their course one point of the compass,\nor thereabouts, to the southward of the east, and we went due east [?\nwest], they passed by us at some little distance; so that we did not see\nthem, or know anything of them, till evening, when our men came to us\nand gave us this account of them. However, this was a useful experiment\nfor our future conduct in passing the desert, as you shall hear in its\nplace.\nWe were now upon our work, and our black prince was head surveyor, for\nhe was an excellent mat-maker himself, and all his men understood it, so\nthat they soon made us near a hundred mats; and as every man, I mean of\nthe negroes, carried one, it was no manner of load, and we did not carry\nan ounce of provisions the less. The greatest burthen was to carry\nsix long poles, besides some shorter stakes; but the negroes made an\nadvantage of that, for carrying them between two, they made the luggage\nof provisions which they had to carry so much the lighter, binding it\nupon two poles, and so made three couple of them. As soon as we saw\nthis, we made a little advantage of it too; for having three or four\nbags, called bottles (I mean skins to carry water), more than the men\ncould carry, we got them filled, and carried them this way, which was a\nday's water and more, for our journey.\nHaving now ended our work, made our mats, and fully recruited our stores\nof all things necessary, and having made us abundance of small ropes\nof matting for ordinary use, as we might have occasion, we set forward\nagain, having interrupted our journey eight days in all, upon this\naffair. To our great comfort, the night before we set out there fell a\nvery violent shower of rain, the effects of which we found in the sand;\nthough the heat of one day dried the surface as much as before, yet it\nwas harder at bottom, not so heavy, and was cooler to our feet, by which\nmeans we marched, as we reckoned, about fourteen miles instead of seven,\nand with much more ease.\nWhen we came to encamp, we had all things ready, for we had fitted our\ntent, and set it up for trial, where we made it; so that, in less than\nan hour, we had a large tent raised, with an inner and outer apartment,\nand two entrances. In one we lay ourselves, in the other our negroes,\nhaving light pleasant mats over us, and others at the same time under\nus. Also we had a little place without all for our buffaloes, for they\ndeserved our care, being very useful to us, besides carrying forage and\nwater for themselves. Their forage was a root, which our black\nprince directed us to find, not much unlike a parsnip, very moist and\nnourishing, of which there was plenty wherever we came, this horrid\ndesert excepted.\nWhen we came the next morning to decamp, our negroes took down the tent,\nand pulled up the stakes; and all was in motion in as little time as it\nwas set up. In this posture we marched eight days, and yet could see no\nend, no change of our prospect, but all looking as wild and dismal as\nat the beginning. If there was any alteration, it was that the sand\nwas nowhere so deep and heavy as it was the first three days. This we\nthought might be because, for six months of the year the winds blowing\nwest (as for the other six they blow constantly east), the sand was\ndriven violently to the side of the desert where we set out, where the\nmountains lying very high, the easterly monsoons, when they blew, had\nnot the same power to drive it back again; and this was confirmed by our\nfinding the like depth of sand on the farthest extent of the desert to\nthe west.\nIt was the ninth day of our travel in this wilderness, when we came\nto the view of a great lake of water; and you may be sure this was a\nparticular satisfaction to us, because we had not water left for above\ntwo or three days more, at our shortest allowance; I mean allowing water\nfor our return, if we had been driven to the necessity of it. Our water\nhad served us two days longer than expected, our buffaloes having found,\nfor two or three days, a kind of herb like a broad flat thistle, though\nwithout any prickle, spreading on the ground, and growing in the sand,\nwhich they ate freely of, and which supplied them for drink as well as\nforage.\nThe next day, which was the tenth from our setting out, we came to the\nedge of this lake, and, very happily for us, we came to it at the south\npoint of it, for to the north we could see no end of it; so we passed by\nit and travelled three days by the side of it, which was a great comfort\nto us, because it lightened our burthen, there being no need to carry\nwater when we had it in view. And yet, though here was so much water,\nwe found but very little alteration in the desert; no trees, no grass\nor herbage, except that thistle, as I called it, and two or three more\nplants, which we did not understand, of which the desert began to be\npretty full.\nBut as we were refreshed with the neighbourhood of this lake of water,\nso we were now gotten among a prodigious number of ravenous inhabitants,\nthe like whereof, it is most certain, the eye of man never saw; for as\nI firmly believe that never man nor body of men passed this desert since\nthe flood, so I believe there is not the like collection of fierce,\nravenous, and devouring creatures in the world; I mean not in any\nparticular place.\nFor a day's journey before we came to this lake, and all the three days\nwe were passing by it, and for six or seven days' march after it,\nthe ground was scattered with elephants' teeth in such a number as is\nincredible; and as some of them have lain there for some hundreds of\nyears, so, seeing the substance of them scarce ever decays, they may lie\nthere, for aught I know, to the end of time. The size of some of them\nis, it seems, to those to whom I have reported it, as incredible as\nthe number; and I can assure you there were several so heavy as the\nstrongest man among us could not lift. As to number, I question not but\nthere are enough to load a thousand sail of the biggest ships in the\nworld, by which I may be understood to mean that the quantity is not\nto be conceived of; seeing that as they lasted in view for above eighty\nmiles' travelling, so they might continue as far to the right hand, and\nto the left as far, and many times as far, for aught we knew; for it\nseems the number of elephants hereabouts is prodigiously great. In one\nplace in particular we saw the head of an elephant, with several teeth\nin it, but one of the biggest that ever I saw; the flesh was consumed,\nto be sure, many hundred years before, and all the other bones; but\nthree of our strongest men could not lift this skull and teeth; the\ngreat tooth, I believe, weighed at least three hundredweight; and this\nwas particularly remarkable to me, that I observed the whole skull was\nas good ivory as the teeth, and, I believe, altogether weighed at least\nsix hundredweight; and though I do not know but, by the same rule, all\nthe bones of the elephant may be ivory, yet I think there is this just\nobjection against it from the example before me, that then all the other\nbones of this elephant would have been there as well as the head.\nI proposed to our gunner, that, seeing we had travelled now fourteen\ndays without intermission, and that we had water here for our\nrefreshment, and no want of food yet, nor any fear of it, we should rest\nour people a little, and see, at the same time, if perhaps we might\nkill some creatures that were proper for food. The gunner, who had more\nforecast of that kind than I had, agreed to the proposal, and added, why\nmight we not try to catch some fish out of the lake? The first thing we\nhad before us was to try if we could make any hooks, and this indeed put\nour artificer to his trumps; however, with some labour and difficulty,\nhe did it, and we catched fresh fish of several kinds. How they came\nthere, none but He that made the lake and all the world knows; for, to\nbe sure, no human hands ever put any in there, or pulled any out before.\nWe not only catched enough for our present refreshment, but we dried\nseveral large fishes, of kinds which I cannot describe, in the sun, by\nwhich we lengthened out our provision considerably; for the heat of\nthe sun dried them so effectually without salt that they were perfectly\ncured, dry, and hard, in one day's time.\nWe rested ourselves here five days; during which time we had abundance\nof pleasant adventures with the wild creatures, too many to relate. One\nof them was very particular, which was a chase between a she-lion,\nor lioness, and a large deer; and though the deer is naturally a very\nnimble creature, and she flew by us like the wind, having, perhaps,\nabout 300 yards the start of the lion, yet we found the lion, by her\nstrength, and the goodness of her lungs, got ground of her. They passed\nby us within about a quarter of a mile, and we had a view of them a\ngreat way, when, having given them over, we were surprised, about an\nhour after, to see them come thundering back again on the other side of\nus, and then the lion was within thirty or forty yards of her; and both\nstraining to the extremity of their speed, when the deer, coming to the\nlake, plunged into the water, and swam for her life, as she had before\nrun for it.\nThe lioness plunged in after her, and swam a little way, but came back\nagain; and when she was got upon the land she set up the most hideous\nroar that ever I heard in my life, as if done in the rage of having lost\nher prey.\nWe walked out morning and evening constantly; the middle of the day we\nrefreshed ourselves under our tent. But one morning early we saw another\nchase, which more nearly concerned us than the other; for our black\nprince, walking by the side of the lake, was set upon by a vast, great\ncrocodile, which came out of the lake upon him; and though he was very\nlight of foot, yet it was as much as he could do to get away. He fled\namain to us, and the truth is, we did not know what to do, for we were\ntold no bullet would enter her; and we found it so at first, for though\nthree of our men fired at her, yet she did not mind them; but my friend\nthe gunner, a venturous fellow, of a bold heart, and great presence\nof mind, went up so near as to thrust the muzzle of his piece into her\nmouth, and fired, but let his piece fall, and ran for it the very moment\nhe had fired it. The creature raged a great while, and spent its fury\nupon the gun, making marks upon the very iron with its teeth, but after\nsome time fainted and died.\nOur negroes spread the banks of the lake all this while for game, and at\nlength killed us three deer, one of them very large, the other two very\nsmall. There was water-fowl also in the lake, but we never came near\nenough to them to shoot any; and as for the desert, we saw no fowls\nanywhere in it but at the lake.\nWe likewise killed two or three civet cats; but their flesh is the worst\nof carrion. We saw abundance of elephants at a distance, and observed\nthey always go in very good company, that is to say, abundance of them\ntogether, and always extended in a fair line of battle; and this, they\nsay, is the way they defend themselves from their enemies; for if lions\nor tigers, wolves or any creatures, attack them, they being drawn in a\nline, sometimes reaching five or six miles in length, whatever comes in\ntheir way is sure to be trod under foot, or beaten in pieces with their\ntrunks, or lifted up in the air with their trunks; so that if a hundred\nlions or tigers were coming along, if they meet a line of elephants,\nthey will always fly back till they see room to pass by the right hand\nor the left; and if they did not, it would be impossible for one of\nthem to escape; for the elephant, though a heavy creature, is yet so\ndexterous and nimble with his trunk, that he will not fail to lift up\nthe heaviest lion, or any other wild creature, and throw him up in the\nair quite over his back, and then trample him to death with his feet. We\nsaw several lines of battle thus; we saw one so long that indeed there\nwas no end of it to be seen, and I believe there might be 2000 elephants\nin row or line. They are not beasts of prey, but live upon the herbage\nof the field, as an ox does; and it is said, that though they are so\ngreat a creature, yet that a smaller quantity of forage supplies one of\nthem than will suffice a horse.\nThe numbers of this kind of creature that are in those parts are\ninconceivable, as may be gathered from the prodigious quantity of\nteeth which, as I said, we saw in this vast desert; and indeed we saw a\nhundred of them to one of any other kind.\nOne evening we were very much surprised. We were most of us laid down\non our mats to sleep, when our watch came running in among us, being\nfrighted with the sudden roaring of some lions just by them, which, it\nseems, they had not seen, the night being dark, till they were just upon\nthem. There was, as it proved, an old lion and his whole family, for\nthere was the lioness and three young lions, besides the old king, who\nwas a monstrous great one. One of the young ones--who were good, large,\nwell-grown ones too--leaped up upon one of our negroes, who stood\nsentinel, before he saw him, at which he was heartily frighted, cried\nout, and ran into the tent. Our other man, who had a gun, had not\npresence of mind at first to shoot him, but struck him with the butt-end\nof his piece, which made him whine a little, and then growl at him\nfearfully; but the fellow retired, and, we being all alarmed, three of\nour men snatched up their guns, ran to the tent door, where they saw the\ngreat old lion by the fire of his eyes, and first fired at him, but, we\nsupposed, missed him, or at least did not kill him; for they went all\noff, but raised a most hideous roar, which, as if they had called for\nhelp, brought down a prodigious number of lions, and other furious\ncreatures, we know not what, about them, for we could not see them;\nbut there was a noise, and yelling and howling, and all sorts of such\nwilderness music on every side of us, as if all the beasts of the desert\nwere assembled to devour us.\nWe asked our black prince what we should do with them. \"Me go,\" says he,\n\"and fright them all.\" So he snatches up two or three of the worst of\nour mats, and getting one of our men to strike some fire, he hangs the\nmat up at the end of a pole, and set it on fire, and it blazed abroad\na good while; at which the creatures all moved off, for we heard them\nroar, and make their bellowing noise at a great distance. \"Well,\" says\nour gunner, \"if that will do, we need not burn our mats, which are our\nbeds to lay under us, and our tilting to cover us. Let me alone,\" says\nhe. So he comes back into our tent, and falls to making some artificial\nfireworks and the like; and he gave our sentinels some to be ready\nat hand upon occasion, and particularly he placed a great piece of\nwild-fire upon the same pole that the mat had been tied to, and set it\non fire, and that burnt there so long that all the wild creatures left\nus for that time.\nHowever, we began to be weary of such company; and, to be rid of them,\nwe set forward again two days sooner than we intended. We found now,\nthat though the desert did not end, nor could we see any appearance of\nit, yet that the earth was pretty full of green stuff of one sort or\nanother, so that our cattle had no want; and secondly, that there\nwere several little rivers which ran into the lake, and so long as the\ncountry continued low, we found water sufficient, which eased us very\nmuch in our carriage, and we went on still sixteen days more without yet\ncoming to any appearance of better soil. After this we found the country\nrise a little, and by that we perceived that the water would fail us;\nso, for fear of the worst, we filled our bladder-bottles with water.\nWe found the country rising gradually thus for three days continually,\nwhen, on the sudden, we perceived that, though we had mounted up\ninsensibly, yet that we were on the top of a very high ridge of hills,\nthough not such as at first.\nWhen we came to look down on the other side of the hills, we saw, to\nthe great joy of all our hearts, that the desert was at an end; that the\ncountry was clothed with green, abundance of trees, and a large river;\nand we made no doubt but that we should find people and cattle also; and\nhere, by our gunner's account, who kept our computations, we had\nmarched about 400 miles over this dismal place of horror, having been\nfour-and-thirty days a-doing of it, and consequently were come about\n1100 miles of our journey.\nWe would willingly have descended the hills that night, but it was\ntoo late. The next morning we saw everything more plain, and rested\nourselves under the shade of some trees, which were now the most\nrefreshing things imaginable to us, who had been scorched above a month\nwithout a tree to cover us. We found the country here very pleasant,\nespecially considering that we came from; and we killed some deer here\nalso, which we found very frequent under the cover of the woods. Also we\nkilled a creature like a goat, whose flesh was very good to eat, but it\nwas no goat; we found also a great number of fowls like partridge, but\nsomething smaller, and were very tame; so that we lived here very well,\nbut found no people, at least none that would be seen, no, not for\nseveral days' journey; and to allay our joy, we were almost every night\ndisturbed with lions and tigers; elephants, indeed, we saw none here.\nIn three days' march we came to a river, which we saw from the hills,\nand which we called the Golden River; and we found it ran northward,\nwhich was the first stream we had met with that did so. It ran with a\nvery rapid current, and our gunner, pulling out his map, assured me that\nthis was either the river Nile, or run into the great lake out of which\nthe river Nile was said to take its beginning; and he brought out his\ncharts and maps, which, by his instruction, I began to understand very\nwell, and told me he would convince me of it, and indeed he seemed to\nmake it so plain to me that I was of the same opinion.\nBut I did not enter into the gunner's reason for this inquiry, not in\nthe least, till he went on with it farther, and stated it thus:--\"If\nthis is the river Nile, why should not we build some more canoes, and go\ndown this stream, rather than expose ourselves to any more deserts and\nscorching sands in quest of the sea, which when we are come to, we shall\nbe as much at a loss how to get home as we were at Madagascar?\"\nThe argument was good, had there been no objections in the way of a kind\nwhich none of us were capable of answering; but, upon the whole, it\nwas an undertaking of such a nature that every one of us thought it\nimpracticable, and that upon several accounts; and our surgeon, who was\nhimself a good scholar and a man of reading, though not acquainted\nwith the business of sailing, opposed it, and some of his reasons, I\nremember, were such as these:--First, the length of the way, which both\nhe and the gunner allowed, by the course of the water, and turnings\nof the river, would be at least 4000 miles. Secondly, the innumerable\ncrocodiles in the river, which we should never be able to escape.\nThirdly, the dreadful deserts in the way; and lastly, the approaching\nrainy season, in which the streams of the Nile would be so furious, and\nrise so high--spreading far and wide over all the plain country--that\nwe should never be able to know when we were in the channel of the river\nand when not, and should certainly be cast away, overset, or run\naground so often that it would be impossible to proceed by a river so\nexcessively dangerous.\nThis last reason he made so plain to us that we began to be sensible of\nit ourselves, so that we agreed to lay that thought aside, and proceed\nin our first course, westwards towards the sea; but, as if we had been\nloth to depart, we continued, by way of refreshing ourselves, to loiter\ntwo days upon this river, in which time our black prince, who delighted\nmuch in wandering up and down, came one evening and brought us several\nlittle bits of something, he knew not what, but he found it felt heavy\nand looked well, and showed it to me as what he thought was some rarity.\nI took not much notice of it to him, but stepping out and calling the\ngunner to me I showed it to him, and told him what I thought, viz.,\nthat it was certainly gold. He agreed with me in that, and also in what\nfollowed, that we would take the black prince out with us the next day,\nand make him show us where he found it; that if there was any quantity\nto be found we would tell our company of it, but if there was but little\nwe would keep counsel, and have it to ourselves.\nBut we forgot to engage the prince in the secret, who innocently told so\nmuch to all the rest, as that they guessed what it was, and came to us\nto see. When we found it was public, we were more concerned to prevent\ntheir suspecting that we had any design to conceal it, and openly\ntelling our thoughts of it, we called our artificer, who agreed\npresently that it was gold; so I proposed that we should all go with\nthe prince to the place where he found it, and if any quantity was to be\nhad, we would lie here some time and see what we could make of it.\nAccordingly we went every man of us, for no man was willing to be left\nbehind in a discovery of such a nature. When we came to the place we\nfound it was on the west side of the river, not in the main river, but\nin another small river or stream which came from the west, and ran into\nthe other at that place. We fell to raking in the sand, and washing it\nin our hands; and we seldom took up a handful of sand but we washed\nsome little round lumps as big as a pin's head, or sometimes as big as a\ngrape stone, into our hands; and we found, in two or three hours'\ntime, that every one had got some, so we agreed to leave off, and go to\ndinner.\nWhile we were eating, it came into my thoughts that while we worked at\nthis rate in a thing of such nicety and consequence, it was ten to one\nif the gold, which was the make-bait of the world, did not, first or\nlast, set us together by the ears, to break our good articles and our\nunderstanding one among another, and perhaps cause us to part companies,\nor worse; I therefore told them that I was indeed the youngest man in\nthe company, but as they had always allowed me to give my opinion in\nthings, and had sometimes been pleased to follow my advice, so I\nhad something to propose now, which I thought would be for all our\nadvantages, and I believed they would all like it very well. I told them\nwe were in a country where we all knew there was a great deal of gold,\nand that all the world sent ships thither to get it; that we did not\nindeed know where it was, and so we might get a great deal, or a little,\nwe did not know whether; but I offered it to them to consider whether it\nwould not be the best way for us, and to preserve the good harmony\nand friendship that had been always kept among us, and which was so\nabsolutely necessary to our safety, that what we found should be brought\ntogether to one common stock, and be equally divided at last, rather\nthan to run the hazard of any difference which might happen among us\nfrom any one's having found more or less than another. I told them, that\nif we were all upon one bottom we should all apply ourselves heartily to\nthe work; and, besides that, we might then set our negroes all to work\nfor us, and receive equally the fruit of their labour and of our own,\nand being all exactly alike sharers, there could be no just cause of\nquarrel or disgust among us.\nThey all approved the proposal, and every one jointly swore, and gave\ntheir hands to one another, that they would not conceal the least grain\nof gold from the rest; and consented that if any one or more should\nbe found to conceal any, all that he had should be taken from him\nand divided among the rest; and one thing more was added to it by our\ngunner, from considerations equally good and just, that if any one of\nus, by any play, bet, game, or wager, won any money or gold, or the\nvalue of any, from another, during our whole voyage, till our return\nquite to Portugal, he should be obliged by us all to restore it again\non the penalty of being disarmed and turned out of the company, and of\nhaving no relief from us on any account whatever. This was to prevent\nwagering and playing for money, which our men were apt to do by several\nmeans and at several games, though they had neither cards nor dice.\nHaving made this wholesome agreement, we went cheerfully to work, and\nshowed our negroes how to work for us; and working up the stream on both\nsides, and in the bottom of the river, we spent about three weeks' time\ndabbling in the water; by which time, as it lay all in our way, we had\ngone about six miles, and not more; and still the higher we went, the\nmore gold we found; till at last, having passed by the side of a hill,\nwe perceived on a sudden that the gold stopped, and that there was not\na bit taken up beyond that place. It presently occurred to my mind, that\nit must then be from the side of that little hill that all the gold we\nfound was worked down.\nUpon this, we went back to the hill, and fell to work with that. We\nfound the earth loose, and of a yellowish loamy colour, and in some\nplaces a white hard kind of stone, which, in describing since to some\nof our artists, they tell me was the spar which is found by ore, and\nsurrounds it in the mine. However, if it had been all gold, we had no\ninstrument to force it out; so we passed that. But scratching into the\nloose earth with our fingers, we came to a surprising place, where\nthe earth, for the quantity of two bushels, I believe, or thereabouts,\ncrumbled down with little more than touching it, and apparently showed\nus that there was a great deal of gold in it. We took it all carefully\nup, and washing it in the water, the loamy earth washed away, and left\nthe gold dust free in our hands; and that which was more remarkable was,\nthat, when this loose earth was all taken away, and we came to the rock\nor hard stone, there was not one grain of gold more to be found.\nAt night we all came together to see what we had got; and it appeared\nwe had found, in that day's heap of earth, about fifty pounds' weight of\ngold dust, and about thirty-four pounds' weight more in all the rest of\nour works in the river.\nIt was a happy kind of disappointment to us, that we found a full stop\nput to our work; for, had the quantity of gold been ever so small, yet,\nhad any at all come, I do not know when we should have given over; for,\nhaving rummaged this place, and not finding the least grain of gold\nin any other place, or in any of the earth there, except in that loose\nparcel, we went quite back down the small river again, working it over\nand over again, as long as we could find anything, how small soever; and\nwe did get six or seven pounds more the second time. Then we went into\nthe first river, and tried it up the stream and down the stream, on the\none side and on the other. Up the stream we found nothing, no, not a\ngrain; down the stream we found very little, not above the quantity of\nhalf an ounce in two miles' working; so back we came again to the Golden\nRiver, as we justly called it, and worked it up the stream and down the\nstream twice more apiece, and every time we found some gold, and perhaps\nmight have done so if we had stayed there till this time; but the\nquantity was at last so small, and the work so much the harder, that we\nagreed by consent to give it over, lest we should fatigue ourselves and\nour negroes so as to be quite unfit for our journey.\nWhen we had brought all our purchase together, we had in the whole three\npounds and a half of gold to a man, share and share alike, according to\nsuch a weight and scale as our ingenious cutler made for us to weigh it\nby, which indeed he did by guess, but which, as he said, he was sure\nwas rather more than less, and so it proved at last; for it was near\ntwo ounces more than weight in a pound. Besides this, there was seven\nor eight pounds' weight left, which we agreed to leave in his hands, to\nwork it into such shapes as we thought fit, to give away to such people\nas we might yet meet with, from whom we might have occasion to buy\nprovisions, or even to buy friendship, or the like; and particularly we\ngave about a pound to our black prince, which he hammered and worked by\nhis own indefatigable hand, and some tools our artificer lent him, into\nlittle round bits, as round almost as beads, though not exact in shape,\nand drilling holes through them, put them all upon a string, and wore\nthem about his black neck, and they looked very well there, I assure\nyou; but he was many months a-doing it. And thus ended our first golden\nadventure.\nWe now began to discover what we had not troubled our heads much about\nbefore, and that was, that, let the country be good or bad that we were\nin, we could not travel much further for a considerable time. We had\nbeen now five months and upwards in our journey, and the seasons began\nto change; and nature told us, that, being in a climate that had a\nwinter as well as a summer, though of a different kind from what our\ncountry produced, we were to expect a wet season, and such as we should\nnot be able to travel in, as well by reason of the rain itself, as of\nthe floods which it would occasion wherever we should come; and\nthough we had been no strangers to those wet seasons in the island\nof Madagascar, yet we had not thought much of them since we began our\ntravels; for, setting out when the sun was about the solstice, that is,\nwhen it was at the greatest northern distance from us, we had found\nthe benefit of it in our travels. But now it drew near us apace, and we\nfound it began to rain; upon which we called another general council, in\nwhich we debated our present circumstances, and, in particular, whether\nwe should go forward, or seek for a proper place upon the bank of our\nGolden River, which had been so lucky to us, to fix our camp for the\nwinter.\nUpon the whole, it was resolved to abide where we were; and it was not\nthe least part of our happiness that we did so, as shall appear in its\nplace.\nHaving resolved upon this, our first measures were to set our negroes to\nwork, to make huts or houses for our habitation, and this they did very\ndexterously; only that we changed the ground where we at first intended\nit, thinking, as indeed it happened, that the river might reach it upon\nany sudden rain. Our camp was like a little town, in which our huts were\nin the centre, having one large one in the centre of them also, into\nwhich all our particular lodgings opened; so that none of us went into\nour apartments but through a public tent, where we all ate and drank\ntogether, and kept our councils and society; and our carpenters made us\ntables, benches, and stools in abundance, as many as we could make use\nof.\nWe had no need of chimneys, it was hot enough without fire; but yet\nwe found ourselves at last obliged to keep a fire every night upon a\nparticular occasion. For though we had in all other respects a very\npleasant and agreeable situation, yet we were rather worse troubled with\nthe unwelcome visits of wild beasts here than in the wilderness itself;\nfor as the deer and other gentle creatures came hither for shelter\nand food, so the lions and tigers and leopards haunted these places\ncontinually for prey.\nWhen first we discovered this we were so uneasy at it that we thought of\nremoving our situation; but after many debates about it we resolved to\nfortify ourselves in such a manner as not to be in any danger from it;\nand this our carpenters undertook, who first palisaded our camp quite\nround with long stakes, for we had wood enough, which stakes were not\nstuck in one by another like pales, but in an irregular manner; a\ngreat multitude of them so placed that they took up near two yards in\nthickness, some higher, some lower, all sharpened at the top, and about\na foot asunder: so that had any creature jumped at them, unless he had\ngone clean over, which it was very hard to do, he would be hung upon\ntwenty or thirty spikes.\nThe entrance into this had larger stakes than the rest, so placed before\none another as to make three or four short turnings which no four-footed\nbeast bigger than a dog could possibly come in at; and that we might not\nbe attacked by any multitude together, and consequently be alarmed in\nour sleep, as we had been, or be obliged to waste our ammunition, which\nwe were very chary of, we kept a great fire every night without the\nentrance of our palisade, having a hut for our two sentinels to stand\nin free from the rain, just within the entrance, and right against the\nfire.\nTo maintain this fire we cut a prodigious deal of wood, and piled it up\nin a heap to dry, and with the green boughs made a second covering over\nour huts, so high and thick that it might cast the rain from the first,\nand keep us effectually dry.\nWe had scarcely finished all these works but the rain came on so fierce\nand so continued that we had little time to stir abroad for food, except\nindeed that our negroes, who wore no clothes, seemed to make nothing of\nthe rain; though to us Europeans, in those hot climates, nothing is more\ndangerous.\nWe continued in this posture for four months, that is to say, from the\nmiddle of June to the middle of October; for though the rains went off,\nat least the greatest violence of them, about the equinox, yet, as the\nsun was then just over our heads, we resolved to stay awhile till it\npassed a little to the southward.\nDuring our encampment here we had several adventures with the ravenous\ncreatures of that country; and had not our fire been always kept\nburning, I question much whether all our fence, though we strengthened\nit afterwards with twelve or fourteen rows of stakes or more, would have\nkept us secure. It was always in the night that we had the disturbance\nof them, and sometimes they came in such multitudes that we thought\nall the lions and tigers, and leopards and wolves of Africa were come\ntogether to attack us. One night, being clear moonshine, one of our\nmen being upon the watch, told us that he verily believed he saw ten\nthousand wild creatures of one sort or another pass by our little camp,\nand ever as they saw the fire they sheered off, but were sure to howl or\nroar, or whatever it was, when they were past.\nThe music of their voices was very far from being pleasant to us, and\nsometimes would be so very disturbing that we could not sleep for it;\nand often our sentinels would call us that were awake to come and look\nat them. It was one windy, tempestuous night, after a rainy day, that\nwe were indeed called up; for such innumerable numbers of devilish\ncreatures came about us that our watch really thought they would attack\nus. They would not come on the side where the fire was; and though we\nthought ourselves secure everywhere else, yet we all got up and took to\nour arms. The moon was near the full, but the air full of flying clouds,\nand a strange hurricane of wind to add to the terror of the night; when,\nlooking on the back part of our camp, I thought I saw a creature within\nour fortification, and so indeed he was, except his haunches, for he\nhad taken a running leap, I suppose, and with all his might had thrown\nhimself clear over our palisades, except one strong pile, which stood\nhigher than the rest, and which had caught hold of him, and by his\nweight he had hanged himself upon it, the spike of the pile running into\nhis hinder haunch or thigh, on the inside; and by that he hung, growling\nand biting the wood for rage. I snatched up a lance from one of the\nnegroes that stood just by me, and running to him, struck it three\nor four times into him, and despatched him, being unwilling to shoot,\nbecause I had a mind to have a volley fired among the rest, whom I could\nsee standing without, as thick as a drove of bullocks going to a fair. I\nimmediately called our people out, and showed them the object of terror\nwhich I had seen, and, without any further consultation, fired a full\nvolley among them, most of our pieces being loaded with two or three\nslugs or bullets apiece. It made a horrible clutter among them, and in\ngeneral they all took to their heels, only that we could observe that\nsome walked off with more gravity and majesty than others, being not\nso much frighted at the noise and fire; and we could perceive that some\nwere left upon the ground struggling as for life, but we durst not stir\nout to see what they were.\nIndeed they stood so thick, and were so near us, that we could not\nwell miss killing or wounding some of them, and we believed they had\ncertainly the smell of us, and our victuals we had been killing; for we\nhad killed a deer, and three or four of those creatures like goats the\nday before; and some of the offal had been thrown out behind our camp,\nand this, we suppose, drew them so much about us; but we avoided it for\nthe future.\nThough the creatures fled, yet we heard a frightful roaring all night\nat the place where they stood, which we supposed was from some that were\nwounded, and as soon as day came we went out to see what execution we\nhad done. And indeed it was a strange sight; there were three tigers and\ntwo wolves quite killed, besides the creature I had killed within our\npalisade, which seemed to be of an ill-gendered kind, between a tiger\nand a leopard. Besides this there was a noble old lion alive, but with\nboth his fore-legs broke, so that he could not stir away, and he had\nalmost beat himself to death with struggling all night, and we found\nthat this was the wounded soldier that had roared so loud and given us\nso much disturbance. Our surgeon, looking at him, smiled. \"Now,\" says\nhe, \"if I could be sure this lion would be as grateful to me as one\nof his majesty's ancestors was to Androcles, the Roman slave, I would\ncertainly set both his legs again and cure him.\" I had not heard the\nstory of Androcles, so he told it me at large; but as to the surgeon, we\ntold him he had no way to know whether the lion would do so or not, but\nto cure him first and trust to his honour; but he had no faith, so to\ndespatch him and put him out of his torment, he shot him in the head and\nkilled him, for which we called him the king-killer ever after.\nOur negroes found no less than five of these ravenous creatures wounded\nand dropped at a distance from our quarters; whereof, one was a wolf,\none a fine spotted young leopard, and the other were creatures that we\nknew not what to call them.\nWe had several more of these gentlefolks about after that, but no such\ngeneral rendezvous of them as that was any more; but this ill effect\nit had to us, that it frighted the deer and other creatures from our\nneighbourhood, of whose company we were much more desirous, and which\nwere necessary for our subsistence. However, our negroes went out every\nday a-hunting, as they called it, with bow and arrow, and they scarce\never failed of bringing us home something or other; and particularly we\nfound in this part of the country, after the rains had fallen some time,\nabundance of wild fowl, such as we have in England, duck, teal, widgeon,\netc.; some geese, and some kinds that we had never seen before; and we\nfrequently killed them. Also we catched a great deal of fresh fish out\nof the river, so that we wanted no provision. If we wanted anything, it\nwas salt to eat with our fresh meat; but we had a little left, and we\nused it sparingly; for as to our negroes, they could not taste it, nor\ndid they care to eat any meat that was seasoned with it.\nThe weather began now to clear up, the rains were down, and the floods\nabated, and the sun, which had passed our zenith, was gone to the\nsouthward a good way; so we prepared to go on our way.\nIt was the 12th of October, or thereabouts, that we began to set\nforward; and having an easy country to travel in, as well as to supply\nus with provisions, though still without inhabitants, we made more\ndespatch, travelling sometimes, as we calculated it, twenty or\ntwenty-five miles a day; nor did we halt anywhere in eleven days' march,\none day excepted, which was to make a raft to carry us over a small\nriver, which, having swelled with the rains, was not yet quite down.\nWhen we were past this river, which, by the way, ran to the northward\ntoo, we found a great row of hills in our way. We saw, indeed, the\ncountry open to the right at a great distance; but, as we kept true to\nour course, due west, we were not willing to go a great way out of our\nway, only to shun a few hills. So we advanced; but we were surprised\nwhen, being not quite come to the top, one of our company, who, with two\nnegroes, was got up before us, cried out, \"The sea! the sea!\" and fell\na-dancing and jumping, as signs of joy.\nThe gunner and I were most surprised at it, because we had but that\nmorning been calculating that we must have yet above 1000 miles on the\nsea side, and that we could not expect to reach it till another rainy\nseason would be upon us; so that when our man cried out, \"The sea,\" the\ngunner was angry, and said he was mad.\nBut we were both in the greatest surprise imaginable, when, coming to\nthe top of the hill, and though it was very high, we saw nothing but\nwater, either before us or to the right hand or the left, being a vast\nsea, without any bounds but the horizon.\nWe went down the hill full of confusion of thought, not being able\nto conceive whereabouts we were or what it must be, seeing by all our\ncharts the sea was yet a vast way off.\nIt was not above three miles from the hills before we came to the shore,\nor water-edge of this sea, and there, to our further surprise, we found\nthe water fresh and pleasant to drink; so that, in short, we knew not\nwhat course to take. The sea, as we thought it to be, put a full stop\nto our journey (I mean westward), for it lay just in the way. Our next\nquestion was, which hand to turn to, to the right hand or the left,\nbut this was soon resolved; for, as we knew not the extent of it, we\nconsidered that our way, if it had been the sea really, must be on the\nnorth, and therefore, if we went to the south now, it must be just so\nmuch out of our way at last. So, having spent a good part of the day in\nour surprise at the thing, and consulting what to do, we set forward to\nthe north.\nWe travelled upon the shore of this sea full twenty-three days before\nwe could come to any resolution about what it was; at the end of which,\nearly one morning, one of our seamen cried out, \"Land!\" and it was no\nfalse alarm, for we saw plainly the tops of some hills at a very great\ndistance, on the further side of the water, due west; but though this\nsatisfied us that it was not the ocean, but an inland sea or lake, yet\nwe saw no land to the northward, that is to say, no end of it, but were\nobliged to travel eight days more, and near 100 miles farther, before\nwe came to the end of it, and then we found this lake or sea ended in a\nvery great river which ran N. or N. by E., as the other river had done\nwhich I mentioned before.\nMy friend the gunner, upon examining, said that he believed that he was\nmistaken before, and that this was the river Nile, but was still of the\nmind that we were of before, that we should not think of a voyage into\nEgypt that way; so we resolved upon crossing this river, which, however,\nwas not so easy as before, the river being very rapid and the channel\nvery broad.\nIt cost us, therefore, a week here to get materials to waft ourselves\nand cattle over this river; for though here were stores of trees, yet\nthere was none of any considerable growth sufficient to make a canoe.\nDuring our march on the edge of this bank we met with great fatigue, and\ntherefore travelled a fewer miles in a day than before, there being such\na prodigious number of little rivers that came down from the hills on\nthe east side, emptying themselves into this gulf, all which waters were\npretty high, the rains having been but newly over.\nIn the last three days of our travel we met with some inhabitants, but\nwe found they lived upon the little hills and not by the water-side; nor\nwere we a little put to it for food in this march, having killed nothing\nfor four or five days but some fish we caught out of the lake, and that\nnot in such plenty as we found before.\nBut, to make us some amends, we had no disturbance upon all the shores\nof this lake from any wild beasts; the only inconveniency of that kind\nwas, that we met an ugly, venomous, deformed kind of a snake or serpent\nin the wet grounds near the lake, that several times pursued us as if\nit would attack us; and if we struck or threw anything at it, it would\nraise itself up and hiss so loud that it might be heard a great way.\nIt had a hellish ugly deformed look and voice, and our men would not be\npersuaded but it was the devil, only that we did not know what business\nSatan could have there, where there were no people.\nIt was very remarkable that we had now travelled 1000 miles without\nmeeting with any people in the heart of the whole continent of Africa,\nwhere, to be sure, never man set his foot since the sons of Noah spread\nthemselves over the face of the whole earth. Here also our gunner took\nan observation with his forestaff, to determine our latitude, and he\nfound now, that having marched about thirty-three days northward, we\nwere in 6 degrees 22 minutes south latitude.\nAfter having with great difficulty got over this river, we came into a\nstrange wild country that began a little to affright us; for though the\ncountry was not a desert of dry scalding sand as that was we had passed\nbefore, yet it was mountainous, barren, and infinitely full of most\nfurious wild beasts, more than any place we had passed yet. There was\nindeed a kind of coarse herbage on the surface, and now and then a few\ntrees, or rather shrubs. But people we could see none, and we began\nto be in great suspense about victuals, for we had not killed a deer\na great while, but had lived chiefly upon fish and fowl, always by the\nwater-side, both which seemed to fail us now; and we were in the more\nconsternation, because we could not lay in a stock here to proceed upon,\nas we did before, but were obliged to set out with scarcity, and without\nany certainty of a supply.\nWe had, however, no remedy but patience; and having killed some fowls\nand dried some fish, as much as, with short allowance, we reckoned would\nlast us five days, we resolved to venture, and venture we did; nor\nwas it without cause that we were apprehensive of the danger, for\nwe travelled the five days and met neither with fish nor fowl, nor\nfour-footed beast, whose flesh was fit to eat, and we were in a most\ndreadful apprehension of being famished to death. On the sixth day we\nalmost fasted, or, as we may say, we ate up all the scraps of what we\nhad left, and at night lay down supperless upon our mats, with heavy\nhearts, being obliged the eighth day to kill one of our poor faithful\nservants, the buffaloes that carried our baggage. The flesh of this\ncreature was very good, and so sparingly did we eat of it that it lasted\nus all three days and a half, and was just spent; and we were on the\npoint of killing another when we saw before us a country that promised\nbetter, having high trees and a large river in the middle of it.\nThis encouraged us, and we quickened our march for the river-side,\nthough with empty stomachs, and very faint and weak; but before we came\nto this river we had the good hap to meet with some young deer, a thing\nwe had long wished for. In a word, having shot three of them, we came to\na full stop to fill our bellies, and never gave the flesh time to cool\nbefore we ate it; nay, it was much we could stay to kill it and had not\neaten it alive, for we were, in short, almost famished.\nThrough all that inhospitable country we saw continually lions, tigers,\nleopards, civet cats, and abundance of kinds of creatures that we did\nnot understand; we saw no elephants, but every now and then we met with\nan elephant's tooth lying on the ground, and some of them lying, as it\nwere, half buried by the length of time that they had lain there.\nWhen we came to the shore of this river, we found it ran northerly\nstill, as all the rest had done, but with this difference, that as the\ncourse of the other rivers were N. by E. or N.N.E., the course of this\nlay N.W.N.\nOn the farther bank of this river we saw some sign of inhabitants,\nbut met with none for the first day; but the next day we came into an\ninhabited country, the people all negroes, and stark naked, without\nshame, both men and women.\nWe made signs of friendship to them, and found them a very frank,\ncivil, and friendly sort of people. They came to our negroes without\nany suspicion, nor did they give us any reason to suspect them of any\nvillainy, as the others had done; we made signs to them that we were\nhungry, and immediately some naked women ran and fetched us great\nquantities of roots, and of things like pumpkins, which we made no\nscruple to eat; and our artificer showed them some of his trinkets that\nhe had made, some of iron, some of silver, but none of gold. They had so\nmuch judgment as to choose that of silver before the iron; but when we\nshowed them some gold, we found they did not value it so much as either\nof the other.\nFor some of these things they brought us more provisions, and three\nliving creatures as big as calves, but not of that kind; neither did we\never see any of them before; their flesh was very good; and after that\nthey brought us twelve more, and some smaller creatures like hares; all\nwhich were very welcome to us, who were indeed at a very great loss for\nprovisions.\nWe grew very intimate with these people, and indeed they were the\ncivillest and most friendly people that we met with at all, and mightily\npleased with us; and, which was very particular, they were much easier\nto be made to understand our meaning than any we had met with before.\nAt last we began to inquire our way, pointing to the west. They made us\nunderstand easily that we could not go that way, but they pointed to us\nthat we might go north-west, so that we presently understood that there\nwas another lake in our way, which proved to be true; for in two days\nmore we saw it plain, and it held us till we passed the equinoctial\nline, lying all the way on our left hand, though at a great distance.\nTravelling thus northward, our gunner seemed very anxious about our\nproceedings; for he assured us, and made me sensible of it by the\nmaps which he had been teaching me out of, that when we came into the\nlatitude of six degrees, or thereabouts, north of the line, the land\ntrended away to the west to such a length that we should not come at the\nsea under a march of above 1500 miles farther westward than the country\nwe desired to go to. I asked him if there were no navigable rivers that\nwe might meet with, which, running into the west ocean, might perhaps\ncarry us down their stream, and then, if it were 1500 miles, or twice\n1500 miles, we might do well enough if we could but get provisions.\nHere he showed me the maps again, and that there appeared no river whose\nstream was of any such a length as to do any kindness, till we came\nperhaps within 200 or 300 miles of the shore, except the Rio Grande, as\nthey call it, which lay farther northward from us, at least 700 miles;\nand that then he knew not what kind of country it might carry us\nthrough; for he said it was his opinion that the heats on the north of\nthe line, even in the same latitude, were violent, and the country more\ndesolate, barren, and barbarous, than those of the south; and that when\nwe came among the negroes in the north part of Africa, next the sea,\nespecially those who had seen and trafficked with the Europeans, such as\nDutch, English, Portuguese, Spaniards, etc., they had most of them been\nso ill-used at some time or other that they would certainly put all the\nspite they could upon us in mere revenge.\nUpon these considerations he advised us that, as soon as we had passed\nthis lake, we should proceed W.S.W., that is to say, a little inclining\nto the south, and that in time we should meet with the great river\nCongo, from whence the coast is called Congo, being a little north of\nAngola, where we intended at first to go.\nI asked him if ever he had been on the coast of Congo. He said, yes, he\nhad, but was never on shore there. Then I asked him how we should get\nfrom thence to the coast where the European ships came, seeing, if the\nland trended away west for 1500 miles, we must have all that shore to\ntraverse before we could double the west point of it.\nHe told me it was ten to one but we should hear of some European ships\nto take us in, for that they often visited the coast of Congo and\nAngola, in trade with the negroes; and that if we could not, yet, if\nwe could but find provisions, we should make our way as well along the\nsea-shore as along the river, till we came to the Gold Coast, which, he\nsaid, was not above 400 or 500 miles north of Congo, besides the turning\nof the coast west about 300 more; that shore being in the latitude of\nsix or seven degrees; and that there the English, or Dutch, or French\nhad settlements or factories, perhaps all of them.\nI confess I had more mind, all the while he argued, to have gone\nnorthward, and shipped ourselves in the Rio Grande, or, as the traders\ncall it, the river Negro or Niger, for I knew that at last it would\nbring us down to the Cape de Verd, where we were sure of relief;\nwhereas, at the coast we were going to now, we had a prodigious way\nstill to go, either by sea or land, and no certainty which way to get\nprovisions but by force; but for the present I held my tongue, because\nit was my tutor's opinion.\nBut when, according to his desire, we came to turn southward, having\npassed beyond the second great lake, our men began all to be uneasy,\nand said we were now out of our way for certain, for that we were going\nfarther from home, and that we were indeed far enough off already.\nBut we had not marched above twelve days more, eight whereof were taken\nup in rounding the lake, and four more south-west, in order to make for\nthe river Congo, but we were put to another full stop, by entering a\ncountry so desolate, so frightful, and so wild, that we knew not what to\nthink or do; for, besides that it appeared as a terrible and boundless\ndesert, having neither woods, trees, rivers, or inhabitants, so even the\nplace where we were was desolate of inhabitants, nor had we any way to\ngather in a stock of provisions for the passing of this desert, as we\ndid before at our entering the first, unless we had marched back four\ndays to the place where we turned the head of the lake.\nWell, notwithstanding this, we ventured; for, to men that had passed\nsuch wild places as we had done, nothing could seem too desperate to\nundertake. We ventured, I say, and the rather because we saw very high\nmountains in our way at a great distance, and we imagined, wherever\nthere were mountains there would be springs and rivers; where rivers\nthere would be trees and grass; where trees and grass there would\nbe cattle; and where cattle, some kind of inhabitants. At last, in\nconsequence of this speculative philosophy, we entered this waste,\nhaving a great heap of roots and plants for our bread, such as the\nIndians gave us, a very little flesh or salt, and but a little water.\nWe travelled two days towards those hills, and still they seemed as\nfar off as they did at first, and it was the fifth day before we got to\nthem; indeed, we travelled but softly, for it was excessively hot; and\nwe were much about the very equinoctial line, we hardly knew whether to\nthe south or the north of it.\nAs we had concluded, that where there were hills there would be springs,\nso it happened; but we were not only surprised, but really frighted, to\nfind the first spring we came to, and which looked admirably clear and\nbeautiful, to be salt as brine. It was a terrible disappointment to us,\nand put us under melancholy apprehensions at first; but the gunner, who\nwas of a spirit never discouraged, told us we should not be disturbed at\nthat, but be very thankful, for salt was a bait we stood in as much need\nof as anything, and there was no question but we should find fresh water\nas well as salt; and here our surgeon stepped in to encourage us, and\ntold us that if we did not know he would show us a way how to make that\nsalt water fresh, which indeed made us all more cheerful, though we\nwondered what he meant.\nMeantime our men, without bidding, had been seeking about for other\nsprings, and found several; but still they were all salt; from whence\nwe concluded that there was a salt rock or mineral stone in those\nmountains, and perhaps they might be all of such a substance; but still\nI wondered by what witchcraft it was that our artist the surgeon would\nmake this salt water turn fresh, and I longed to see the experiment,\nwhich was indeed a very odd one; but he went to work with as much\nassurance as if he had tried it on the very spot before.\nHe took two of our large mats and sewed them together, and they made a\nkind of a bag four feet broad, three feet and a half high, and about a\nfoot and a half thick when it was full.\nHe caused us to fill this bag with dry sand and tread it down as close\nas we could, not to burst the mats. When thus the bag was full within\na foot, he sought some other earth and filled up the rest with it, and\nstill trod all in as hard as he could. When he had done, he made a\nhole in the upper earth about as broad as the crown of a large hat, or\nsomething bigger about, but not so deep, and bade a negro fill it with\nwater, and still as it shrunk away to fill it again, and keep it full.\nThe bag he had placed at first across two pieces of wood, about a foot\nfrom the ground; and under it he ordered some of our skins to be spread\nthat would hold water. In about an hour, and not sooner, the water\nbegan to come dropping through the bottom of the bag, and, to our great\nsurprise, was perfectly fresh and sweet, and this continued for several\nhours; but in the end the water began to be a little brackish. When we\ntold him that, \"Well, then,\" said he, \"turn the sand out, and fill it\nagain.\" Whether he did this by way of experiment from his own fancy, or\nwhether he had seen it done before, I do not remember.\nThe next day we mounted the tops of the hills, where the prospect was\nindeed astonishing, for as far as the eye could look, south, or west, or\nnorthwest, there was nothing to be seen but a vast howling wilderness,\nwith neither tree nor river, nor any green thing. The surface we found,\nas the part we passed the day before, had a kind of thick moss upon\nit, of a blackish dead colour, but nothing in it that looked like food,\neither for man or beast.\nHad we been stored with provisions to have entered for ten or twenty\ndays upon this wilderness, as we were formerly, and with fresh water, we\nhad hearts good enough to have ventured, though we had been obliged to\ncome back again, for if we went north we did not know but we might meet\nwith the same; but we neither had provisions, neither were we in any\nplace where it was possible to get them. We killed some wild ferine\ncreatures at the foot of these hills; but, except two things, like to\nnothing that we ever saw before, we met with nothing that was fit\nto eat. These were creatures that seemed to be between the kind of a\nbuffalo and a deer, but indeed resembled neither; for they had no horns,\nand had great legs like a cow, with a fine head, and the neck like a\ndeer. We killed also, at several times, a tiger, two young lions, and a\nwolf; but, God be thanked, we were not so reduced as to eat carrion.\nUpon this terrible prospect I renewed my motion of turning northward,\nand making towards the river Niger or Rio Grande, then to turn west\ntowards the English settlements on the Gold Coast; to which every one\nmost readily consented, only our gunner, who was indeed our best guide,\nthough he happened to be mistaken at this time. He moved that, as our\ncoast was now northward, so we might slant away north-west, that so, by\ncrossing the country, we might perhaps meet with some other river that\nrun into the Rio Grande northward, or down to the Gold Coast southward,\nand so both direct our way and shorten the labour; as also because, if\nany of the country was inhabited and fruitful, we should probably find\nit upon the shore of the rivers, where alone we could be furnished with\nprovisions.\nThis was good advice, and too rational not to be taken; but our present\nbusiness was, what to do to get out of this dreadful place we were in.\nBehind us was a waste, which had already cost us five days' march, and\nwe had not provisions for five days left to go back again the same way.\nBefore us was nothing but horror, as above; so we resolved, seeing the\nridge of the hills we were upon had some appearance of fruitfulness,\nand that they seemed to lead away to the northward a great way, to keep\nunder the foot of them on the east side, to go on as far as we could,\nand in the meantime to look diligently out for food.\nAccordingly we moved on the next morning; for we had no time to lose,\nand, to our great comfort, we came in our first morning's march to very\ngood springs of fresh water; and lest we should have a scarcity again,\nwe filled all our bladder bottles and carried it with us. I should also\nhave observed that our surgeon, who made the salt water fresh, took the\nopportunity of those salt springs, and made us the quantity of three or\nfour pecks of very good salt.\nIn our third march we found an unexpected supply of food, the hills\nbeing full of hares. They were of a kind something different from ours\nin England, larger and not as swift of foot, but very good meat. We shot\nseveral of them, and the little tame leopard, which I told you we took\nat the negro town that we plundered, hunted them like a dog, and killed\nus several every day; but she would eat nothing of them unless we gave\nit her, which, indeed, in our circumstance, was very obliging. We salted\nthem a little and dried them in the sun whole, and carried a strange\nparcel along with us. I think it was almost three hundred, for we did\nnot know when we might find any more, either of these or any other food.\nWe continued our course under these hills very comfortably for eight or\nnine days, when we found, to our great satisfaction, the country beyond\nus began to look with something of a better countenance. As for the west\nside of the hills, we never examined it till this day, when three of our\ncompany, the rest halting for refreshment, mounted the hills again to\nsatisfy their curiosity, but found it all the same, nor could they see\nany end of it, no, not to the north, the way we were going; so the tenth\nday, finding the hills made a turn, and led as it were into the vast\ndesert, we left them and continued our course north, the country being\nvery tolerably full of woods, some waste, but not tediously long, till\nwe came, by our gunner's observation, into the latitude of eight degrees\nfive minutes, which we were nineteen days more in performing.\nAll this way we found no inhabitants, but abundance of wild ravenous\ncreatures, with which we became so well acquainted now that really we\ndid not much mind them. We saw lions and tigers and leopards every night\nand morning in abundance; but as they seldom came near us, we let them\ngo about their business: if they offered to come near us, we made false\nfire with any gun that was uncharged, and they would walk off as soon as\nthey saw the flash.\nWe made pretty good shift for food all this way; for sometimes we killed\nhares, sometimes some fowls, but for my life I cannot give names to\nany of them, except a kind of partridge, and another that was like our\nturtle. Now and then we began to meet with elephants again in great\nnumbers; those creatures delighted chiefly in the woody part of the\ncountry.\nThis long-continued march fatigued us very much, and two of our men fell\nsick, indeed, so very sick that we thought they would have died; and one\nof our negroes died suddenly. Our surgeon said it was an apoplexy, but\nhe wondered at it, he said, for he could never complain of his high\nfeeding. Another of them was very ill; but our surgeon with much ado\npersuading him, indeed it was almost forcing him to be let blood, he\nrecovered.\nWe halted here twelve days for the sake of our sick men, and our surgeon\npersuaded me and three or four more of us to be let blood during the\ntime of rest, which, with other things he gave us, contributed very much\nto our continued health in so tedious a march and in so hot a climate.\nIn this march we pitched our matted tents every night, and they were\nvery comfortable to us, though we had trees and woods to shelter us in\nmost places. We thought it very strange that in all this part of the\ncountry we yet met with no inhabitants; but the principal reason, as we\nfound afterwards, was, that we, having kept a western course first,\nand then a northern course, were gotten too much into the middle of the\ncountry and among the deserts; whereas the inhabitants are principally\nfound among the rivers, lakes, and lowlands, as well to the south-west\nas to the north.\nWhat little rivulets we found here were so empty of water, that except\nsome pits, and little more than ordinary pools, there was scarcely any\nwater to be seen in them; and they rather showed that during the rainy\nmonths they had a channel, than that they had really running water in\nthem at that time, by which it was easy for us to judge that we had a\ngreat way to go; but this was no discouragement so long as we had but\nprovisions, and some seasonable shelter from the violent heat, which\nindeed I thought was much greater now than when the sun was just over\nour heads.\nOur men being recovered, we set forward again, very well stored with\nprovisions, and water sufficient, and bending our course a little to\nthe westward of the north, travelled in hopes of some favourable stream\nwhich might bear a canoe; but we found none till after twenty days'\ntravel, including eight days' rest; for our men being weak, we rested\nvery often, especially when we came to places which were proper for our\npurpose, where we found cattle, fowl, or anything to kill for our food.\nIn those twenty days' march we advanced four degrees to the northward,\nbesides some meridian distance westward, and we met with abundance of\nelephants, and with a good number of elephants' teeth scattered up and\ndown, here and there, in the woody grounds especially, some of which\nwere very large. But they were no booty to us; our business was\nprovisions, and a good passage out of the country; and it had been much\nmore to our purpose to have found a good fat deer, and to have killed\nit for our food, than a hundred ton of elephants' teeth; and yet, as\nyou shall presently hear, when we came to begin our passage by water, we\nonce thought to have built a large canoe, on purpose to have loaded it\nwith ivory; but this was when we knew nothing of the rivers, nor knew\nanything how dangerous and how difficult a passage it was we were likely\nto have in them, nor had considered the weight of carriage to lug them\nto the rivers where we might embark.\nAt the end of twenty days' travel, as above, in the latitude of three\ndegrees sixteen minutes, we discovered in a valley, at some distance\nfrom us, a pretty tolerable stream, which we thought deserved the name\nof a river, and which ran its course N.N.W., which was just what we\nwanted. As we had fixed our thoughts upon our passage by water, we took\nthis for the place to make the experiment, and bent our march directly\nto the valley.\nThere was a small thicket of trees just in our way, which we went by,\nthinking no harm, when on a sudden one of our negroes was dangerously\nwounded with an arrow shot into his back, slanting between his\nshoulders. This put us to a full stop; and three of our men, with two\nnegroes, spreading the wood, for it was but a small one, found a negro\nwith a bow, but no arrow, who would have escaped, but our men that\ndiscovered him shot him in revenge of the mischief he had done; so we\nlost the opportunity of taking him prisoner, which, if we had done, and\nsent him home with good usage, it might have brought others to us in a\nfriendly manner.\nGoing a little farther, we came to five negro huts or houses, built\nafter a different manner from any we had seen yet; and at the door of\none of them lay seven elephants' teeth, piled up against the wall or\nside of the hut, as if they had been provided against a market. Here\nwere no men, but seven or eight women, and near twenty children. We\noffered them no incivility of any kind, but gave them every one a bit of\nsilver beaten out thin, as I observed before, and cut diamond fashion,\nor in the shape of a bird, at which the women were overjoyed, and\nbrought out to us several sorts of food, which we did not understand,\nbeing cakes of a meal made of roots, which they bake in the sun, and\nwhich ate very well. We went a little way farther and pitched our camp\nfor that night, not doubting but our civility to the women would produce\nsome good effect when their husbands might come home.\nAccordingly, the next morning the women, with eleven men, five young\nboys, and two good big girls, came to our camp. Before they came quite\nto us, the women called aloud, and made an odd screaming noise to bring\nus out; and accordingly we came out, when two of the women, showing us\nwhat we had given them, and pointing to the company behind, made such\nsigns as we could easily understand signified friendship. When the men\nadvanced, having bows and arrows, they laid them down on the ground,\nscraped and threw sand over their heads, and turned round three times\nwith their hands laid up upon the tops of their heads. This, it seems,\nwas a solemn vow of friendship. Upon this we beckoned them with our\nhands to come nearer; then they sent the boys and girls to us first,\nwhich, it seems, was to bring us more cakes of bread and some green\nherbs to eat, which we received, and took the boys up and kissed them,\nand the little girls too; then the men came up close to us, and sat them\ndown on the ground, making signs that we should sit down by them, which\nwe did. They said much to one another, but we could not understand them,\nnor could we find any way to make them understand us, much less\nwhither we were going, or what we wanted, only that we easily made them\nunderstand we wanted victuals; whereupon one of the men, casting his\neyes about him towards a rising ground that was about half a mile off,\nstarted up as if he was frighted, flew to the place where they had laid\ndown their bows and arrows, snatched up a bow and two arrows, and ran\nlike a racehorse to the place. When he came there, he let fly both his\narrows, and comes back again to us with the same speed. We, seeing he\ncame with the bow, but without the arrows, were the more inquisitive;\nbut the fellow, saying nothing to us, beckons to one of our negroes to\ncome to him, and we bid him go; so he led him back to the place, where\nlay a kind of deer, shot with two arrows, but not quite dead, and\nbetween them they brought it down to us. This was for a gift to us, and\nwas very welcome, I assure you, for our stock was low. These people were\nall stark naked.\nThe next day there came about a hundred men to us, and women making the\nsame awkward signals of friendship, and dancing, and showing themselves\nvery well pleased, and anything they had they gave us. How the man\nin the wood came to be so butcherly and rude as to shoot at our men,\nwithout making any breach first, we could not imagine; for the people\nwere simple, plain, and inoffensive in all our other conversation with\nthem.\nFrom hence we went down the banks of the little river I mentioned, and\nwhere, I found, we should see the whole nation of negroes, but whether\nfriendly to us or not, that we could make no judgment of yet.\nThe river was no use to us, as to the design of making canoes, a great\nwhile; and we traversed the country on the edge of it about five days\nmore, when our carpenters, finding the stream increased, proposed to\npitch our tents, and fall to work to make canoes; but after we had begun\nthe work, and cut down two or three trees, and spent five days in the\nlabour, some of our men, wandering further down the river, brought us\nword that the stream rather decreased than increased, sinking away\ninto the sands, or drying up by the heat of the sun, so that the river\nappeared not able to carry the least canoe that could be any way useful\nto us; so we were obliged to give over our enterprise and move on.\nIn our further prospect this way, we marched three days full west, the\ncountry on the north side being extraordinary mountainous, and more\nparched and dry than any we had seen yet; whereas, in the part which\nlooks due west, we found a pleasant valley running a great way between\ntwo great ridges of mountains. The hills looked frightful, being\nentirely bare of trees or grass, and even white with the dryness of the\nsand; but in the valley we had trees, grass, and some creatures that\nwere fit for food, and some inhabitants.\nWe passed by some of their huts or houses, and saw people about them,\nbut they ran up into the hills as soon as they saw us. At the end of\nthis valley we met with a peopled country, and at first it put us to\nsome doubt whether we should go among them, or keep up towards the hills\nnortherly; and as our aim was principally as before, to make our way to\nthe river Niger, we inclined to the latter, pursuing our course by the\ncompass to the N.W. We marched thus without interruption seven days\nmore, when we met with a surprising circumstance much more desolate and\ndisconsolate than our own, and which, in time to come, will scarce seem\ncredible.\nWe did not much seek the conversing, or acquainting ourselves with the\nnatives of the country, except where we found the want of them for our\nprovision, or their direction for our way; so that, whereas we found\nthe country here begin to be very populous, especially towards our left\nhand, that is, to the south, we kept at the more distance northerly,\nstill stretching towards the west.\nIn this tract we found something or other to kill and eat, which always\nsupplied our necessity, though not so well as we were provided in our\nfirst setting out; being thus, as it were, pushing to avoid a peopled\ncountry, we at last came to a very pleasant, agreeable stream of water,\nnot big enough to be called a river, but running to the N.N.W., which\nwas the very course we desired to go.\nOn the farthest bank of this brook, we perceived some huts of negroes,\nnot many, and in a little low spot of ground, some maize, or Indian\ncorn, growing, which intimated presently to us, that there were some\ninhabitants on that side less barbarous than what we had met with in\nother places where we had been.\nAs we went forward, our whole caravan being in a body, our negroes, who\nwere in the front, cried out, that they saw a white man! We were not\nmuch surprised at first, it being, as we thought, a mistake of the\nfellows, and asked them what they meant; when one of them stepped to me,\nand pointing to a hut on the other side of the hill, I was astonished to\nsee a white man indeed, but stark naked, very busy near the door of his\nhut, and stooping down to the ground with something in his hand, as if\nhe had been at some work; and his back being towards us, he did not see\nus.\nI gave notice to our negroes to make no noise, and waited till some more\nof our men were come up, to show the sight to them, that they might be\nsure I was not mistaken; and we were soon satisfied of the truth, for\nthe man, having heard some noise, started up, and looked full at us, as\nmuch surprised, to be sure, as we were, but whether with fear or hope,\nwe then knew not.\nAs he discovered us, so did the rest of the inhabitants belonging to the\nhuts about him, and all crowded together, looking at us at a distance, a\nlittle bottom, in which the brook ran, lying between us; the white man,\nand all the rest, as he told us afterwards, not knowing well whether\nthey should stay or run away. However, it presently came into my\nthoughts, that if there were white men among them, it would be much\neasier to make them understand what we meant as to peace or war, than\nwe found it with others; so tying a piece of white rag to the end of a\nstick, we sent two negroes with it to the bank of the water, carrying\nthe pole up as high as they could; it was presently understood, and two\nof their men and the white man came to the shore on the other side.\nHowever, as the white man spoke no Portuguese, they could understand\nnothing of one another but by signs; but our men made the white man\nunderstand that they had white men with them too, at which they said the\nwhite man laughed. However, to be short, our men came back, and told us\nthey were all good friends, and in about an hour four of our men, two\nnegroes, and the black prince, went to the river-side, where the white\nman came to them.\nThey had not been half a quarter of an hour, but a negro came running to\nme, and told me the white man was Inglese, as he called him; upon which\nI ran back, eagerly enough, you may be sure, with him, and found, as\nhe said, that he was an Englishman; upon which he embraced me very\npassionately, the tears running down his face. The first surprise of his\nseeing us was over before we came, but any one may conceive it by the\nbrief account he gave us afterwards of his very unhappy circumstances,\nand of so unexpected a deliverance, such as perhaps never happened to\nany man in the world, for it was a million to one odds that ever he\ncould have been relieved; nothing but an adventure that never was heard\nor read of before could have suited his case, unless Heaven, by some\nmiracle that never was to be expected, had acted for him.\nHe appeared to be a gentleman, not an ordinary-bred fellow, seaman, or\nlabouring man; this showed itself in his behaviour in the first moment\nof our conversing with him, and in spite of all the disadvantages of his\nmiserable circumstances.\nHe was a middle-aged man, not above thirty-seven or thirty-eight, though\nhis beard was grown exceedingly long, and the hair of his head and\nface strangely covered him to the middle of his back and breast; he was\nwhite, and his skin very fine, though discoloured, and in some places\nblistered, and covered with a brown blackish substance, scurfy, scaly,\nand hard, which was the effect of the scorching heat of the sun; he was\nstark naked, and had been so, as he told us, upwards of two years.\nHe was so exceedingly transported at our meeting with him, that he could\nscarce enter into any discourse at all with us that day; and when he\ncould get away from us for a little, we saw him walking alone, and\nshowing all the most extravagant tokens of an ungovernable joy; and even\nafterwards he was never without tears in his eyes for several days,\nupon the least word spoken by us of his circumstances, or by him of his\ndeliverance.\nWe found his behaviour the most courteous and endearing I ever saw\nin any man whatever, and most evident tokens of a mannerly, well-bred\nperson appeared in all things he did or said, and our people were\nexceedingly taken with him. He was a scholar and a mathematician; he\ncould not speak Portuguese indeed, but he spoke Latin to our surgeon,\nFrench to another of our men, and Italian to a third.\nHe had no leisure in his thoughts to ask us whence we came, whither we\nwere going, or who we were; but would have it always as an answer to\nhimself, that to be sure, wherever we were a-going, we came from Heaven,\nand were sent on purpose to save him from the most wretched condition\nthat ever man was reduced to.\nOur men pitching their camp on the bank of a little river opposite to\nhim, he began to inquire what store of provisions we had, and how we\nproposed to be supplied. When he found that our store was but small,\nhe said he would talk with the natives, and we should have provisions\nenough; for he said they were the most courteous, good-natured part of\nthe inhabitants in all that part of the country, as we might suppose by\nhis living so safe among them.\nThe first things this gentleman did for us were indeed of the greatest\nconsequence to us; for, first, he perfectly informed us where we were,\nand which was the properest course for us to steer; secondly, he put\nus in the way how to furnish ourselves effectually with provisions; and\nthirdly, he was our complete interpreter and peacemaker with all the\nnatives, who now began to be very numerous about us, and who were a\nmore fierce and politic people than those we had met with before; not so\neasily terrified with our arms as those, and not so ignorant as to give\ntheir provisions and corn for our little toys, such as, I said before,\nour artificer made; but as they had frequently traded and conversed with\nthe Europeans on the coast, or with other negro nations that had traded\nand been concerned with them, they were the less ignorant and the\nless fearful, and consequently nothing was to be had from them but by\nexchange for such things as they liked.\nThis I say of the negro natives, which we soon came among; but as to\nthese poor people that he lived among, they were not much acquainted\nwith things, being at the distance of above 300 miles from the coast;\nonly that they found elephants' teeth upon the hills to the north, which\nthey took and carried about sixty or seventy miles south, where other\ntrading negroes usually met them, and gave them beads, glass, shells,\nand cowries, for them, such as the English and Dutch and other traders\nfurnish them with from Europe.\nWe now began to be more familiar with our new acquaintance; and first,\nthough we made but a sorry figure as to clothes ourselves, having\nneither shoe, or stocking, or glove, or hat among us, and but very few\nshirts, yet as well as we could we clothed him; and first, our surgeon\nhaving scissors and razors, shaved him, and cut his hair; a hat, as I\nsay, we had not in all our stores, but he supplied himself by making\nhimself a cap of a piece of a leopard-skin, most artificially. As for\nshoes or stockings, he had gone so long without them that he cared not\neven for the buskins and foot-gloves we wore, which I described above.\nAs he had been curious to hear the whole story of our travels, and was\nexceedingly delighted with the relation, so we were no less to know, and\npleased with, the account of his circumstances, and the history of his\ncoming to that strange place alone, and in that condition which we found\nhim in, as above. This account of his would indeed be in itself the\nsubject of an agreeable history, and would be as long and diverting as\nour own, having in it many strange and extraordinary incidents; but we\ncannot have room here to launch out into so long a digression: the sum\nof his history was this:--\nHe had been a factor for the English Guinea Company at Sierra Leone,\nor some other of their settlements which had been taken by the French,\nwhere he had been plundered of all his own effects, as well as of what\nwas entrusted to him by the company. Whether it was that the company\ndid not do him justice in restoring his circumstances, or in further\nemploying him, he quitted their service, and was employed by those\ncalled separate traders, and being afterwards out of employ there\nalso, traded on his own account; when, passing unwarily into one of the\ncompany's settlements, he was either betrayed into the hands of some of\nthe natives, or, somehow or other, was surprised by them. However, as\nthey did not kill him, he found means to escape from them at that time,\nand fled to another nation of the natives, who, being enemies to the\nother, entertained him friendly, and with them he lived some time; but\nnot liking his quarters or his company, he fled again, and several times\nchanged his landlords: sometimes was carried by force, sometimes\nhurried by fear, as circumstances altered with him (the variety of which\ndeserves a history by itself), till at last he had wandered beyond all\npossibility of return, and had taken up his abode where we found him,\nwhere he was well received by the petty king of the tribe he lived with;\nand he, in return, instructed them how to value the product of their\nlabour, and on what terms to trade with those negroes who came up to\nthem for teeth.\nAs he was naked, and had no clothes, so he was naked of arms for his\ndefence, having neither gun, sword, staff, or any instrument of war\nabout him, no, not to guard himself against the attacks of a wild beast,\nof which the country was very full. We asked him how he came to be so\nentirely abandoned of all concern for his safety? He answered, that to\nhim, that had so often wished for death, life was not worth defending;\nand that, as he was entirely at the mercy of the negroes, they had much\nthe more confidence in him, seeing he had no weapons to hurt them. As\nfor wild beasts, he was not much concerned about that, for he scarce\never went from his hut; but if he did, the negro king and his men went\nall with him, and they were all armed with bows and arrows, and lances,\nwith which they would kill any of the ravenous creatures, lions as\nwell as others; but that they seldom came abroad in the day; and if\nthe negroes wander anywhere in the night, they always build a hut for\nthemselves, and make a fire at the door of it, which is guard enough.\nWe inquired of him what we should next do towards getting to the\nseaside. He told us we were about one hundred and twenty English leagues\nfrom the coast, where almost all the European settlements and factories\nwere, and which is called the Gold Coast; but that there were so many\ndifferent nations of negroes in the way, that it was ten to one if\nwe were not either fought with continually, or starved for want of\nprovisions; but that there were two other ways to go, which, if he\nhad had any company to go with him, he had often contrived to make his\nescape by. The one was to travel full west, which, though it was farther\nto go, yet was not so full of people, and the people we should find\nwould be so much the civiller to us, or be so much the easier to fight\nwith; or that the other way was, if possible, to get to the Rio Grande,\nand go down the stream in canoes. We told him, that was the way we had\nresolved on before we met with him; but then he told us there was a\nprodigious desert to go over, and as prodigious woods to go through,\nbefore we came to it, and that both together were at least twenty days'\nmarch for us, travel as hard as we could.\nWe asked him if there were no horses in the country, or asses, or even\nbullocks or buffaloes, to make use of in such a journey, and we showed\nhim ours, of which we had but three left. He said no, all the country\ndid not afford anything of that kind.\nHe told us that in this great wood there were immense numbers of\nelephants; and upon the desert, great multitudes of lions, lynxes,\ntigers, leopards, &c.; and that it was to that wood and that desert that\nthe negroes went to get elephants' teeth, where they never failed to\nfind a great number.\nWe inquired still more, and particularly the way to the Gold Coast, and\nif there were no rivers to ease us in our carriage; and told him, as to\nthe negroes fighting with us, we were not much concerned at that; nor\nwere we afraid of starving, for if they had any victuals among them, we\nwould have our share of it; and, therefore, if he would venture to show\nus the way, we would venture to go; and as for himself, we told him we\nwould live and die together--there should not a man of us stir from him.\nHe told us, with all his heart, if we resolved it, and would venture, we\nmight be assured he would take his fate with us, and he would endeavour\nto guide us in such a way as we should meet with some friendly savages\nwho would use us well, and perhaps stand by us against some others, who\nwere less tractable; so, in a word, we all resolved to go full south for\nthe Gold Coast.\nThe next morning he came to us again, and being all met in council, as\nwe may call it, he began to talk very seriously with us, that since\nwe were now come, after a long journey, to a view of the end of our\ntroubles, and had been so obliging to him as to offer to carry him with\nus, he had been all night revolving in his mind what he and we all might\ndo to make ourselves some amends for all our sorrows; and first, he\nsaid, he was to let me know that we were just then in one of the richest\nparts of the world, though it was really otherwise but a desolate,\ndisconsolate wilderness; \"for,\" says he, \"there is not a river but runs\ngold--not a desert but without ploughing bears a crop of ivory. What\nmines of gold, what immense stores of gold, those mountains may contain,\nfrom whence these rivers come, or the shores which these waters run\nby, we know not, but may imagine that they must be inconceivably rich,\nseeing so much is washed down the stream by the water washing the\nsides of the land, that the quantity suffices all the traders which the\nEuropean world send thither.\" We asked him how far they went for it,\nseeing the ships only trade upon the coast. He told us that the negroes\non the coast search the rivers up for the length of 150 or 200 miles,\nand would be out a month, or two, or three at a time, and always come\nhome sufficiently rewarded; \"but,\" says he, \"they never come thus far,\nand yet hereabouts is as much gold as there.\" Upon this he told us that\nhe believed he might have gotten a hundred pounds' weight of gold since\nhe came thither, if he had employed himself to look and work for it; but\nas he knew not what to do with it, and had long since despaired of being\never delivered from the misery he was in, he had entirely omitted it.\n\"For what advantage had it been to me,\" said he, \"or what richer had\nI been, if I had a ton of gold dust, and lay and wallowed in it? The\nrichness of it,\" said he, \"would not give me one moment's felicity, nor\nrelieve me in the present exigency. Nay,\" says he, \"as you all see, it\nwould not buy me clothes to cover me, or a drop of drink to save me from\nperishing. It is of no value here,\" says he; \"there are several people\namong these huts that would weigh gold against a few glass beads or\na cockle-shell, and give you a handful of gold-dust for a handful\nof cowries.\" N.B.--These are little shells which our children call\nblackamoors' teeth.\nWhen he had said thus he pulled out a piece of an earthen pot baked hard\nin the sun. \"Here,\" says he, \"is some of the dirt of this country, and\nif I would I could have got a great deal more;\" and, showing it to us,\nI believe there was in it between two and three pounds weight of\ngold-dust, of the same kind and colour with that we had gotten already,\nas before. After we had looked at it a while, he told us, smiling, we\nwere his deliverers, and all he had, as well as his life, was ours;\nand therefore, as this would be of value to us when we came to our own\ncountry, so he desired we would accept of it among us; and that was the\nonly time that he had repented that he had picked up no more of it.\nI spoke for him, as his interpreter, to my comrades, and in their names\nthanked him; but, speaking to them in Portuguese, I desired them to\ndefer the acceptance of his kindness to the next morning; and so I did,\ntelling him we would further talk of this part in the morning; so we\nparted for that time.\nWhen he was gone I found they were all wonderfully affected with\nhis discourse, and with the generosity of his temper, as well as\nthe magnificence of his present, which in another place had been\nextraordinary. Upon the whole, not to detain you with circumstances, we\nagreed that, seeing he was now one of our number, and that as we were a\nrelief to him in carrying him out of the dismal condition he was in, so\nhe was equally a relief to us, in being our guide through the rest of\nthe country, our interpreter with the natives, and our director how to\nmanage with the savages, and how to enrich ourselves with the wealth\nof the country; that, therefore, we would put his gold among our common\nstock, and every one should give him as much as would make his up just\nas much as any single share of our own, and for the future we would take\nour lot together, taking his solemn engagement to us, as we had before\none to another, that we would not conceal the least grain of gold we\nfound one from another.\nIn the next conference we acquainted him with the adventures of the\nGolden River, and how we had shared what we got there, so that every man\nhad a larger stock than he for his share; that, therefore, instead of\ntaking any from him, we had resolved every one to add a little to him.\nHe appeared very glad that we had met with such good success, but would\nnot take a grain from us, till at last, pressing him very hard, he told\nus, that then he would take it thus:--that, when we came to get any\nmore, he would have so much out of the first as should make him even,\nand then we would go on as equal adventurers; and thus we agreed.\nHe then told us he thought it would not be an unprofitable adventure if,\nbefore we set forward, and after we had got a stock of provisions, we\nshould make a journey north to the edge of the desert he had told us of,\nfrom whence our negroes might bring every one a large elephant's tooth,\nand that he would get some more to assist; and that, after a certain\nlength of carriage, they might be conveyed by canoes to the coast, where\nthey would yield a very great profit.\nI objected against this on account of our other design we had of getting\ngold-dust; and that our negroes, who we knew would be faithful to us,\nwould get much more by searching the rivers for gold for us than by\nlugging a great tooth of a hundred and fifty pounds weight a hundred\nmiles or more, which would be an insufferable labour to them after so\nhard a journey, and would certainly kill them.\nHe acquiesced in the justice of this answer, but fain would have had us\ngone to see the woody part of the hill and the edge of the desert, that\nwe might see how the elephants' teeth lay scattered up and down there;\nbut when we told him the story of what we had seen before, as is said\nabove, he said no more.\nWe stayed here twelve days, during which time the natives were very\nobliging to us, and brought us fruits, pompions, and a root like\ncarrots, though of quite another taste, but not unpleasant neither, and\nsome guinea-fowls, whose names we did not know. In short, they brought\nus plenty of what they had, and we lived very well, and we gave them all\nsuch little things as our cutler had made, for he had now a whole bag\nfull of them.\nOn the thirteenth day we set forward, taking our new gentleman with us.\nAt parting, the negro king sent two savages with a present to him of\nsome dried flesh, but I do not remember what it was, and he gave him\nagain three silver birds which our cutler helped him to, which I assure\nyou was a present for a king.\nWe travelled now south, a little west, and here we found the first\nriver for above 2000 miles' march, whose waters run south, all the rest\nrunning north or west. We followed this river, which was no bigger than\na good large brook in England, till it began to increase its water.\nEvery now and then we found our Englishman went down as it were\nprivately to the water, which was to try the land; at length, after a\nday's march upon this river, he came running up to us with his hands\nfull of sand, and saying, \"Look here.\" Upon looking we found that a good\ndeal of gold lay spangled among the sand of the river. \"Now,\" says he,\n\"I think we may begin to work;\" so he divided our negroes into couples\nand set them to work, to search and wash the sand and ooze in the bottom\nof the water where it was not deep.\nIn the first day and a quarter our men all together had gathered a pound\nand two ounces of gold or thereabouts, and as we found the quantity\nincreased the farther we went, we followed it about three days, till\nanother small rivulet joined the first, and then searching up the\nstream, we found gold there too; so we pitched our camp in the angle\nwhere the rivers joined, and we diverted ourselves, as I may call it,\nin washing the gold out of the sand of the river, and in getting\nprovisions.\nHere we stayed thirteen days more, in which time we had many pleasant\nadventures with the savages, too long to mention here, and some of them\ntoo homely to tell of, for some of our men had made something free with\ntheir women, which, had not our new guide made peace for us with one of\ntheir men at the price of seven fine bits of silver, which our artificer\nhad cut out into the shapes of lions, and fishes, and birds, and had\npunched holes to hang them up by (an inestimable treasure), we must have\ngone to war with them and all their people.\nAll the while we were busy washing gold-dust out of the rivers, and our\nnegroes the like, our ingenious cutler was hammering and cutting, and\nhe was grown so dexterous by use that he formed all manner of images. He\ncut out elephants, tigers, civet cats, ostriches, eagles, cranes, fowls,\nfishes, and indeed whatever he pleased, in thin plates of hammered gold,\nfor his silver and iron were almost all gone.\nAt one of the towns of these savage nations we were very friendly\nreceived by their king, and as he was very much taken with our workman's\ntoys, he sold him an elephant cut out of a gold plate as thin as a\nsixpence at an extravagant rate. He was so much taken with it that he\nwould not be quiet till he had given him almost a handful of gold-dust,\nas they call it; I suppose it might weigh three-quarters of a pound; the\npiece of gold that the elephant was made of might be about the weight of\na pistole, rather less than more. Our artist was so honest, though the\nlabour and art were all his own, that he brought all the gold and put\nit into our common stock; but we had, indeed, no manner of reason in the\nleast to be covetous, for, as our new guide told us, we that were strong\nenough to defend ourselves, and had time enough to stay (for we were\nnone of us in haste), might in time get together what quantity of gold\nwe pleased, even to an hundred pounds weight each man if we thought fit;\nand therefore he told us, though he had as much reason to be sick of the\ncountry as any of us, yet if we thought to turn our march a little to\nthe south-east, and pitch upon a place proper for our headquarters,\nwe might find provisions plenty enough, and extend ourselves over the\ncountry among the rivers for two or three years to the right and left,\nand we should soon find the advantage of it.\nThe proposal, however good as to the profitable part of it, suited none\nof us, for we were all more desirous to get home than to be rich, being\ntired of the excessive fatigue of above a year's continual wandering\namong deserts and wild beasts.\nHowever, the tongue of our new acquaintance had a kind of charm in it,\nand used such arguments, and had so much the power of persuasion, that\nthere was no resisting him. He told us it was preposterous not to take\nthe fruit of all our labours now we were come to the harvest; that we\nmight see the hazard the Europeans run with ships and men, and at great\nexpense, to fetch a little gold, and that we, that were in the centre\nof it, to go away empty-handed was unaccountable; that we were strong\nenough to fight our way through whole nations, and might make our\njourney afterward to what part of the coast we pleased, and we should\nnever forgive ourselves when we came to our own country to see we had\n500 pistoles in gold, and might as easily have had 5000 or 10,000, or\nwhat we pleased; that he was no more covetous than we, but seeing it\nwas in all our powers to retrieve our misfortunes at once, and to make\nourselves easy for all our lives, he could not be faithful to us, or\ngrateful for the good we had done him, if he did not let us see the\nadvantage we had in our hands; and he assured us he would make it clear\nto our own understanding, that we might in two years' time, by good\nmanagement and by the help of our negroes, gather every man a hundred\npounds weight of gold, and get together perhaps two hundred ton of\nteeth; whereas, if once we pushed on to the coast and separated, we\nshould never be able to see that place again with our eyes, or do any\nmore than sinners did with heaven,--wish themselves there, but know they\ncan never come at it.\nOur surgeon was the first man that yielded to his reasoning, and after\nhim the gunner; and they too, indeed, had a great influence over us, but\nnone of the rest had any mind to stay, nor I neither, I must confess;\nfor I had no notion of a great deal of money, or what to do with myself,\nor what to do with it if I had it. I thought I had enough already, and\nall the thoughts I had about disposing of it, if I came to Europe, was\nonly how to spend it as fast as I could, buy me some clothes, and go to\nsea again to be a drudge for more.\nHowever, he prevailed with us by his good words at last to stay but for\nsix months in the country, and then, if we did resolve to go, he would\nsubmit; so at length we yielded to that, and he carried us about fifty\nEnglish miles south-east, where we found several rivulets of water,\nwhich seemed to come all from a great ridge of mountains, which lay to\nthe north-east, and which, by our calculation, must be the beginning\nthat way of the great waste, which we had been forced northward to\navoid.\nHere we found the country barren enough, but yet we had by his direction\nplenty of food; for the savages round us, upon giving them some of our\ntoys, as I have so often mentioned, brought us in whatever they had;\nand here we found some maize, or Indian wheat, which the negro women\nplanted, as we sow seeds in a garden, and immediately our new provider\nordered some of our negroes to plant it, and it grew up presently, and\nby watering it often, we had a crop in less than three months' growth.\nAs soon as we were settled, and our camp fixed, we fell to the old\ntrade of fishing for gold in the rivers mentioned above, and our English\ngentleman so well knew how to direct our search, that we scarce ever\nlost our labour.\nOne time, having set us to work, he asked if we would give him leave,\nwith four or five negroes, to go out for six or seven days to seek his\nfortune, and see what he could discover in the country, assuring us\nwhatever he got should be for the public stock. We all gave him our\nconsent, and lent him a gun; and two of our men desiring to go with him,\nthey took then six negroes with them, and two of our buffaloes that\ncame with us the whole journey; they took about eight days' provision of\nbread with them, but no flesh, except about as much dried flesh as would\nserve them two days.\nThey travelled up to the top of the mountains I mentioned just now,\nwhere they saw (as our men afterwards vouched it to be) the same desert\nwhich we were so justly terrified at when we were on the farther side,\nand which, by our calculation, could not be less than 300 miles broad\nand above 600 miles in length, without knowing where it ended.\nThe journal of their travels is too long to enter upon here. They\nstayed out two-and-fifty days, when they brought us seventeen pound and\nsomething more (for we had no exact weight) of gold-dust, some of it in\nmuch larger pieces than any we had found before, besides about fifteen\nton of elephants' teeth, which he had, partly by good usage and partly\nby bad, obliged the savages of the country to fetch, and bring down to\nhim from the mountains, and which he made others bring with him quite\ndown to our camp. Indeed, we wondered what was coming to us when we saw\nhim attended with above 200 negroes; but he soon undeceived us, when he\nmade them all throw down their burdens on a heap at the entrance of our\ncamp.\nBesides this, they brought two lions' skins, and five leopards' skins,\nvery large and very fine. He asked our pardon for his long stay, and\nthat he had made no greater a booty, but told us he had one excursion\nmore to make, which he hoped should turn to a better account.\nSo, having rested himself and rewarded the savages that brought the\nteeth for him with some bits of silver and iron cut out diamond fashion,\nand with two shaped like little dogs, he sent them away mightily\npleased.\nThe second journey he went, some more of our men desired to go with\nhim, and they made a troop of ten white men and ten savages, and the two\nbuffaloes to carry their provisions and ammunition. They took the same\ncourse, only not exactly the same track, and they stayed thirty-two days\nonly, in which time they killed no less than fifteen leopards, three\nlions, and several other creatures, and brought us home four-and-twenty\npound some ounces of gold-dust, and only six elephants' teeth, but they\nwere very great ones.\nOur friend the Englishman showed us that now our time was well bestowed,\nfor in five months which we had stayed here, we had gathered so much\ngold-dust that, when we came to share it, we had five pound and a\nquarter to a man, besides what we had before, and besides six or seven\npound weight which we had at several times given our artificer to make\nbaubles with. And now we talked of going forward to the coast to put an\nend to our journey; but our guide laughed at us then. \"Nay, you can't go\nnow,\" says he, \"for the rainy season begins next month, and there will\nbe no stirring then.\" This we found, indeed, reasonable, so we resolved\nto furnish ourselves with provisions, that we might not be obliged to\ngo abroad too much in the rain, and we spread ourselves some one way and\nsome another, as far as we cared to venture, to get provisions; and our\nnegroes killed us some deer, which we cured as well as we could in the\nsun, for we had now no salt.\nBy this time the rainy months were set in, and we could scarce, for\nabove two months, look out of our huts. But that was not all, for the\nrivers were so swelled with the land-floods, that we scarce knew the\nlittle brooks and rivulets from the great navigable rivers. This had\nbeen a very good opportunity to have conveyed by water, upon rafts, our\nelephants' teeth, of which we had a very great pile; for, as we always\ngave the savages some reward for their labour, the very women would\nbring us teeth upon every opportunity, and sometimes a great tooth\ncarried between two; so that our quantity was increased to about\ntwo-and-twenty ton of teeth.\nAs soon as the weather proved fair again, he told us he would not press\nus to any further stay, since we did not care whether we got any more\ngold or no; that we were indeed the first men he ever met with in his\nlife that said they had gold enough, and of whom it might be truly said,\nthat, when it lay under our feet, we would not stoop to take it up. But,\nsince he had made us a promise, he would not break it, nor press us to\nmake any further stay; only he thought he ought to tell us that now was\nthe time, after the land-flood, when the greatest quantity of gold was\nfound; and that, if we stayed but one month, we should see thousands of\nsavages spread themselves over the whole country to wash the gold out\nof the sand, for the European ships which would come on the coast; that\nthey do it then, because the rage of the floods always works down a\ngreat deal of gold out of the hills; and, if we took the advantage to\nbe there before them, we did not know what extraordinary things we might\nfind.\nThis was so forcible, and so well argued, that it appeared in all our\nfaces we were prevailed upon; so we told him we would all stay: for\nthough it was true we were all eager to be gone, yet the evident\nprospect of so much advantage could not well be resisted; that he was\ngreatly mistaken, when he suggested that we did not desire to increase\nour store of gold, and in that we were resolved to make the utmost use\nof the advantage that was in our hands, and would stay as long as any\ngold was to be had, if it was another year.\nHe could hardly express the joy he was in on this occasion; and the fair\nweather coming on, we began, just as he directed, to search about the\nrivers for more gold. At first we had but little encouragement, and\nbegan to be doubtful; but it was very plain that the reason was,\nthe water was not fully fallen, or the rivers reduced to their usual\nchannel; but in a few days we were fully requited, and found much more\ngold than at first, and in bigger lumps; and one of our men washed out\nof the sand a piece of gold as big as a small nut, which weighed, by our\nestimation--for we had no small weights--almost an ounce and a half.\nThis success made us extremely diligent; and in little more than a month\nwe had altogether gotten near sixty pound weight of gold; but after\nthis, as he told us, we found abundance of the savages, men, women, and\nchildren, hunting every river and brook, and even the dry land of the\nhills for gold; so that we could do nothing like then, compared to what\nwe had done before.\nBut our artificer found a way to make other people find us in gold\nwithout our own labour; for, when these people began to appear, he had\na considerable quantity of his toys, birds, beasts, &c., such as before,\nready for them; and the English gentleman being the interpreter, he\nbrought the savages to admire them; so our cutler had trade enough,\nand, to be sure, sold his goods at a monstrous rate; for he would get an\nounce of gold, sometimes two, for a bit of silver, perhaps of the value\nof a groat; nay, if it were iron and if it was of gold, they would\nnot give the more for it; and it was incredible almost to think what a\nquantity of gold he got that way.\nIn a word, to bring this happy journey to a conclusion, we increased our\nstock of gold here, in three months' stay more, to such a degree that,\nbringing it all to a common stock, in order to share it, we divided\nalmost four pound weight again to every man; and then we set forward\nfor the Gold Coast, to see what method we could find out for our passage\ninto Europe.\nThere happened several remarkable incidents in this part of our journey,\nas to how we were, or were not, received friendly by the several nations\nof savages through which we passed; how we delivered one negro king\nfrom captivity, who had been a benefactor to our new guide; and now our\nguide, in gratitude, by our assistance, restored him to his kingdom,\nwhich, perhaps, might contain about 300 subjects; how he entertained us;\nand how he made his subjects go with our Englishmen, and fetch all our\nelephants' teeth which we had been obliged to leave behind us, and to\ncarry them for us to the river, the name of which I forgot, where\nwe made rafts, and in eleven days more came down to one of the Dutch\nsettlements on the Gold Coast, where we arrived in perfect health, and\nto our great satisfaction. As for our cargo of teeth, we sold it to the\nDutch factory, and received clothes and other necessaries for ourselves,\nand such of our negroes as we thought fit to keep with us; and it is to\nbe observed, that we had four pound of gunpowder left when we ended our\njourney. The negro prince we made perfectly free, clothed him out of our\ncommon stock, and gave him a pound and a half of gold for himself, which\nhe knew very well how to manage; and here we all parted after the most\nfriendly manner possible. Our Englishman remained in the Dutch factory\nsome time, and, as I heard afterwards, died there of grief; for he\nhaving sent a thousand pounds sterling over to England, by the way of\nHolland, for his refuge at his return to his friends, the ship was taken\nby the French and the effects all lost.\nThe rest of my comrades went away, in a small bark, to the two\nPortuguese factories, near Gambia, in the latitude of fourteen; and I,\nwith two negroes which I kept with me, went away to Cape Coast Castle,\nwhere I got passage for England, and arrived there in September; and\nthus ended my first harvest of wild oats; the rest were not sowed to so\nmuch advantage.\nI had neither friend, relation, nor acquaintance in England, though it\nwas my native country; I had consequently no person to trust with what\nI had, or to counsel me to secure or save it; but, falling into ill\ncompany, and trusting the keeper of a public-house in Rotherhithe with a\ngreat part of my money, and hastily squandering away the rest, all that\ngreat sum, which I got with so much pains and hazard, was gone in little\nmore than two years' time; and, as I even rage in my own thoughts to\nreflect upon the manner how it was wasted, so I need record no more; the\nrest merits to be concealed with blushes, for that it was spent in all\nkinds of folly and wickedness. So this scene of my life may be said to\nhave begun in theft, and ended in luxury; a sad setting-out, and a worse\ncoming home.\nAbout the year ---- I began to see the bottom of my stock, and that\nit was time to think of further adventures; for my spoilers, as I call\nthem, began to let me know, that as my money declined, their respect\nwould ebb with it, and that I had nothing to expect of them further than\nas I might command it by the force of my money, which, in short, would\nnot go an inch the further for all that had been spent in their favour\nbefore.\nThis shocked me very much, and I conceived a just abhorrence of their\ningratitude; but it wore off; nor had I met with any regret at the\nwasting so glorious a sum of money as I brought to England with me.\nI next shipped myself, in an evil hour to be sure, on a voyage to Cadiz,\nin a ship called the ----, and in the course of our voyage, being on the\ncoast of Spain, was obliged to put into the Groyn, by a strong southwest\nwind.\nHere I fell into company with some masters of mischief; and, among them,\none, forwarder than the rest, began an intimate confidence with me,\nso that we called one another brothers, and communicated all our\ncircumstances to one another. His name was Harris. This fellow came to\nme one morning, asking me if I would go on shore, and I agreed; so we\ngot the captain's leave for the boat, and went together. When we were\ntogether, he asked me if I had a mind for an adventure that might make\namends for all past misfortunes. I told him, yes, with all my heart; for\nI did not care where I went, having nothing to lose, and no one to leave\nbehind me.\nHe then asked me if I would swear to be secret, and that, if I did not\nagree to what he proposed, I would nevertheless never betray him. I\nreadily bound myself to that, upon the most solemn imprecations and\ncurses that the devil and both of us could invent.\nHe told me, then, there was a brave fellow in the other ship, pointing\nto another English ship which rode in the harbour, who, in concert with\nsome of the men, had resolved to mutiny the next morning, and run away\nwith the ship; and that, if we could get strength enough among our\nship's company, we might do the same. I liked the proposal very well,\nand he got eight of us to join with him, and he told us, that as soon as\nhis friend had begun the work, and was master of the ship, we should\nbe ready to do the like. This was his plot; and I, without the least\nhesitation, either at the villainy of the fact or the difficulty of\nperforming it, came immediately into the wicked conspiracy, and so it\nwent on among us; but we could not bring our part to perfection.\nAccordingly, on the day appointed, his correspondent in the other ship,\nwhose name was Wilmot, began the work, and, having seized the captain's\nmate and other officers, secured the ship, and gave the signal to us.\nWe were but eleven in our ship, who were in the conspiracy, nor could we\nget any more that we could trust; so that, leaving the ship, we all took\nthe boat, and went off to join the other.\nHaving thus left the ship I was in, we were entertained with a great\ndeal of joy by Captain Wilmot and his new gang; and, being well prepared\nfor all manner of roguery, bold, desperate (I mean myself), without the\nleast checks of conscience for what I was entered upon, or for anything\nI might do, much less with any apprehension of what might be the\nconsequence of it; I say, having thus embarked with this crew, which at\nlast brought me to consort with the most famous pirates of the age, some\nof whom have ended their journals at the gallows, I think the giving\nan account of some of my other adventures may be an agreeable piece\nof story; and this I may venture to say beforehand, upon the word of a\npirate, that I shall not be able to recollect the full, no, not by far,\nof the great variety which has formed one of the most reprobate schemes\nthat ever man was capable to present to the world.\nI that was, as I have hinted before, an original thief, and a pirate,\neven by inclination before, was now in my element, and never undertook\nanything in my life with more particular satisfaction.\nCaptain Wilmot (for so we are now to call him) being thus possessed of a\nship, and in the manner as you have heard, it may be easily concluded\nhe had nothing to do to stay in the port, or to wait either the attempts\nthat might be made from the shore, or any change that might happen among\nhis men. On the contrary, we weighed anchor the same tide, and stood out\nto sea, steering away for the Canaries. Our ship had twenty-two guns,\nbut was able to carry thirty; and besides, as she was fitted out for\na merchant-ship only, she was not furnished either with ammunition or\nsmall-arms sufficient for our design, or for the occasion we might have\nin case of a fight. So we put into Cadiz, that is to say, we came to an\nanchor in the bay; and the captain, and one whom we called young Captain\nKidd, who was the gunner, [landed,] and some of the men who could best\nbe trusted, among whom was my comrade Harris, who was made second mate,\nand myself, who was made a lieutenant. Some bales of English goods were\nproposed to be carried on shore with us for sale, but my comrade, who\nwas a complete fellow at his business, proposed a better way for it;\nand having been in the town before, told us, in short, that he would buy\nwhat powder and bullet, small-arms, or anything else we wanted, on his\nown word, to be paid for when they came on board, in such English goods\nas we had there. This was much the best way, and accordingly he and the\ncaptain went on shore by themselves, and having made such a bargain\nas they found for their turn, came away again in two hours' time, and\nbringing only a butt of wine and five casks of brandy with them, we all\nwent on board again.\nThe next morning two _barcos longos_ came off to us, deeply laden, with\nfive Spaniards on board them, for traffic. Our captain sold them good\npennyworths, and they delivered us sixteen barrels of powder, twelve\nsmall rundlets of fine powder for our small-arms, sixty muskets, and\ntwelve fuzees for the officers; seventeen ton of cannon-ball, fifteen\nbarrels of musket-bullets, with some swords and twenty good pair of\npistols. Besides this, they brought thirteen butts of wine (for we, that\nwere now all become gentlemen, scorned to drink the ship's beer), also\nsixteen puncheons of brandy, with twelve barrels of raisins and twenty\nchests of lemons; all which we paid for in English goods; and, over and\nabove, the captain received six hundred pieces of eight in money. They\nwould have come again, but we would stay no longer.\nFrom hence we sailed to the Canaries, and from thence onward to the\nWest Indies, where we committed some depredation upon the Spaniards for\nprovisions, and took some prizes, but none of any great value, while I\nremained with them, which was not long at that time; for, having taken a\nSpanish sloop on the coast of Carthagena, my friend made a motion to me,\nthat we should desire Captain Wilmot to put us into the sloop, with a\nproportion of arms and ammunition, and let us try what we could do; she\nbeing much fitter for our business than the great ship, and a better\nsailer. This he consented to, and we appointed our rendezvous at Tobago,\nmaking an agreement, that whatever was taken by either of our ships\nshould be shared among the ship's company of both; all which we very\npunctually observed, and joined our ships again, about fifteen months\nafter, at the island of Tobago, as above.\nWe cruised near two years in those seas, chiefly upon the Spaniards;\nnot that we made any difficulty of taking English ships, or Dutch,\nor French, if they came in our way; and particularly, Captain Wilmot\nattacked a New England ship bound from the Madeiras to Jamaica, and\nanother bound from New York to Barbados, with provisions; which last was\na very happy supply to us. But the reason why we meddled as little with\nEnglish vessels as we could, was, first, because, if they were ships\nof any force, we were sure of more resistance from them; and, secondly,\nbecause we found the English ships had less booty when taken, for the\nSpaniards generally had money on board, and that was what we best knew\nwhat to do with. Captain Wilmot was, indeed, more particularly cruel\nwhen he took any English vessel, that they might not too soon have\nadvice of him in England; and so the men-of-war have orders to look out\nfor him. But this part I bury in silence for the present.\nWe increased our stock in these two years considerably, having taken\n60,000 pieces of eight in one vessel, and 100,000 in another; and being\nthus first grown rich, we resolved to be strong too, for we had taken a\nbrigantine built at Virginia, an excellent sea-boat, and a good sailer,\nand able to carry twelve guns; and a large Spanish frigate-built ship,\nthat sailed incomparably well also, and which afterwards, by the help\nof good carpenters, we fitted up to carry twenty-eight guns. And now we\nwanted more hands, so we put away for the Bay of Campeachy, not doubting\nwe should ship as many men there as we pleased; and so we did.\nHere we sold the sloop that I was in; and Captain Wilmot keeping his\nown ship, I took the command of the Spanish frigate as captain, and my\ncomrade Harris as eldest lieutenant, and a bold enterprising fellow\nhe was, as any the world afforded. One culverdine was put into the\nbrigantine, so that we were now three stout ships, well manned, and\nvictualled for twelve months; for we had taken two or three sloops from\nNew England and New York, laden with flour, peas, and barrelled beef and\npork, going for Jamaica and Barbados; and for more beef we went on\nshore on the island of Cuba, where we killed as many black cattle as we\npleased, though we had very little salt to cure them.\nOut of all the prizes we took here we took their powder and bullet,\ntheir small-arms and cutlasses; and as for their men, we always took the\nsurgeon and the carpenter, as persons who were of particular use to\nus upon many occasions; nor were they always unwilling to go with us,\nthough for their own security, in case of accidents, they might easily\npretend they were carried away by force; of which I shall give a\npleasant account in the course of my other expeditions.\nWe had one very merry fellow here, a Quaker, whose name was William\nWalters, whom we took out of a sloop bound from Pennsylvania to\nBarbados. He was a surgeon, and they called him doctor; but he was not\nemployed in the sloop as a surgeon, but was going to Barbados to get a\nberth, as the sailors call it. However, he had all his surgeon's chests\non board, and we made him go with us, and take all his implements with\nhim. He was a comic fellow indeed, a man of very good solid sense, and\nan excellent surgeon; but, what was worth all, very good-humoured and\npleasant in his conversation, and a bold, stout, brave fellow too, as\nany we had among us.\nI found William, as I thought, not very averse to go along with us, and\nyet resolved to do it so that it might be apparent he was taken away\nby force, and to this purpose he comes to me. \"Friend,\" says he, \"thou\nsayest I must go with thee, and it is not in my power to resist thee if\nI would; but I desire thou wilt oblige the master of the sloop which I\nam on board to certify under his hand, that I was taken away by force\nand against my will.\" And this he said with so much satisfaction in his\nface, that I could not but understand him. \"Ay, ay,\" says I, \"whether\nit be against your will or no, I'll make him and all the men give you\na certificate of it, or I'll take them all along with us, and keep them\ntill they do.\" So I drew up a certificate myself, wherein I wrote that\nhe was taken away by main force, as a prisoner, by a pirate ship; that\nthey carried away his chest and instruments first, and then bound his\nhands behind him and forced him into their boat; and this was signed by\nthe master and all his men.\nAccordingly I fell a-swearing at him, and called to my men to tie his\nhands behind him, and so we put him into our boat and carried him away.\nWhen I had him on board, I called him to me. \"Now, friend,\" says I, \"I\nhave brought you away by force, it is true, but I am not of the opinion\nI have brought you away so much against your will as they imagine.\nCome,\" says I, \"you will be a useful man to us, and you shall have very\ngood usage among us.\" So I unbound his hands, and first ordered all\nthings that belonged to him to be restored to him, and our captain gave\nhim a dram.\n\"Thou hast dealt friendly by me,\" says he, \"and I will be plain with\nthee, whether I came willingly to thee or not. I shall make myself\nas useful to thee as I can, but thou knowest it is not my business to\nmeddle when thou art to fight.\" \"No, no,\" says the captain, \"but you may\nmeddle a little when we share the money.\" \"Those things are useful to\nfurnish a surgeon's chest,\" says William, and smiled, \"but I shall be\nmoderate.\"\nIn short, William was a most agreeable companion; but he had the better\nof us in this part, that if we were taken we were sure to be hanged, and\nhe was sure to escape; and he knew it well enough. But, in short, he\nwas a sprightly fellow, and fitter to be captain than any of us. I shall\nhave often an occasion to speak of him in the rest of the story.\nOur cruising so long in these seas began now to be so well known, that\nnot in England only, but in France and Spain, accounts had been made\npublic of our adventures, and many stories told how we murdered the\npeople in cold blood, tying them back to back, and throwing them into\nthe sea; one half of which, however, was not true, though more was done\nthan is fit to speak of here.\nThe consequence of this, however, was, that several English men-of-war\nwere sent to the West Indies, and were particularly instructed to cruise\nin the Bay of Mexico, and the Gulf of Florida, and among the Bahama\nislands, if possible, to attack us. We were not so ignorant of things as\nnot to expect this, after so long a stay in that part of the world; but\nthe first certain account we had of them was at Honduras, when a vessel\ncoming in from Jamaica told us that two English men-of-war were coming\ndirectly from Jamaica thither in quest of us. We were indeed as it were\nembayed, and could not have made the least shift to have got off, if\nthey had come directly to us; but, as it happened, somebody had informed\nthem that we were in the Bay of Campeachy, and they went directly\nthither, by which we were not only free of them, but were so much to the\nwindward of them, that they could not make any attempt upon us, though\nthey had known we were there.\nWe took this advantage, and stood away for Carthagena, and from thence\nwith great difficulty beat it up at a distance from under the shore for\nSt. Martha, till we came to the Dutch island of Curacoa, and from thence\nto the island of Tobago, which, as before, was our rendezvous; which,\nbeing a deserted, uninhabited island, we at the same time made use of\nfor a retreat. Here the captain of the brigantine died, and Captain\nHarris, at that time my lieutenant, took the command of the brigantine.\nHere we came to a resolution to go away to the coast of Brazil, and from\nthence to the Cape of Good Hope, and so for the East Indies; but Captain\nHarris, as I have said, being now captain of the brigantine, alleged\nthat his ship was too small for so long a voyage, but that, if Captain\nWilmot would consent, he would take the hazard of another cruise, and\nhe would follow us in the first ship he could take. So we appointed our\nrendezvous to be at Madagascar, which was done by my recommendation of\nthe place, and the plenty of provisions to be had there.\nAccordingly, he went away from us in an evil hour; for, instead of\ntaking a ship to follow us, he was taken, as I heard afterwards, by\nan English man-of-war, and being laid in irons, died of mere grief\nand anger before he came to England. His lieutenant, I have heard, was\nafterwards executed in England for a pirate; and this was the end of the\nman who first brought me into this unhappy trade.\nWe parted from Tobago three days after, bending our course for the coast\nof Brazil, but had not been at sea above twenty-four hours, when we were\nseparated by a terrible storm, which held three days, with very little\nabatement or intermission. In this juncture Captain Wilmot happened,\nunluckily, to be on board my ship, to his great mortification; for we\nnot only lost sight of his ship, but never saw her more till we came\nto Madagascar, where she was cast away. In short, after having in this\ntempest lost our fore-topmast, we were forced to put back to the isle of\nTobago for shelter, and to repair our damage, which brought us all very\nnear our destruction.\nWe were no sooner on shore here, and all very busy looking out for a\npiece of timber for a topmast, but we perceived standing in for the\nshore an English man-of-war of thirty-six guns. It was a great surprise\nto us indeed, because we were disabled so much; but, to our great good\nfortune, we lay pretty snug and close among the high rocks, and the\nman-of-war did not see us, but stood off again upon his cruise. So\nwe only observed which way she went, and at night, leaving our work,\nresolved to stand off to sea, steering the contrary way from that which\nwe observed she went; and this, we found, had the desired success, for\nwe saw him no more. We had gotten an old mizzen-topmast on board, which\nmade us a jury fore-topmast for the present; and so we stood away for\nthe isle of Trinidad, where, though there were Spaniards on shore, yet\nwe landed some men with our boat, and cut a very good piece of fir to\nmake us a new topmast, which we got fitted up effectually; and also we\ngot some cattle here to eke out our provisions; and calling a council of\nwar among ourselves, we resolved to quit those seas for the present, and\nsteer away for the coast of Brazil.\nThe first thing we attempted here was only getting fresh water, but we\nlearnt that there lay the Portuguese fleet at the bay of All Saints,\nbound for Lisbon, ready to sail, and only waited for a fair wind. This\nmade us lie by, wishing to see them put to sea, and, accordingly as they\nwere with or without convoy, to attack or avoid them.\nIt sprung up a fresh gale in the evening at S.W. by W., which, being\nfair for the Portugal fleet, and the weather pleasant and agreeable,\nwe heard the signal given to unmoor, and running in under the island of\nSi---, we hauled our mainsail and foresail up in the brails, lowered the\ntopsails upon the cap, and clewed them up, that we might lie as snug as\nwe could, expecting their coming out, and the next morning saw the whole\nfleet come out accordingly, but not at all to our satisfaction, for they\nconsisted of twenty-six sail, and most of them ships of force, as well\nas burthen, both merchantmen and men-of-war; so, seeing there was no\nmeddling, we lay still where we were also, till the fleet was out of\nsight, and then stood off and on, in hopes of meeting with further\npurchase.\nIt was not long before we saw a sail, and immediately gave her chase;\nbut she proved an excellent sailer, and, standing out to sea, we saw\nplainly she trusted to her heels--that is to say, to her sails. However,\nas we were a clean ship, we gained upon her, though slowly, and had we\nhad a day before us, we should certainly have come up with her; but it\ngrew dark apace, and in that case we knew we should lose sight of her.\nOur merry Quaker, perceiving us to crowd still after her in the dark,\nwherein we could not see which way she went, came very dryly to me.\n\"Friend Singleton,\" says he, \"dost thee know what we are a-doing?\" Says\nI, \"Yes; why, we are chasing yon ship, are we not?\" \"And how dost thou\nknow that?\" says he, very gravely still. \"Nay, that's true,\" says I\nagain; \"we cannot be sure.\" \"Yes, friend,\" says he, \"I think we may be\nsure that we are running away from her, not chasing her. I am afraid,\"\nadds he, \"thou art turned Quaker, and hast resolved not to use the hand\nof power, or art a coward, and art flying from thy enemy.\"\n\"What do you mean?\" says I (I think I swore at him). \"What do you sneer\nat now? You have always one dry rub or another to give us.\"\n\"Nay,\" says he, \"it is plain enough the ship stood off to sea due east,\non purpose to lose us, and thou mayest be sure her business does not\nlie that way; for what should she do at the coast of Africa in this\nlatitude, which should be as far south as Congo or Angola? But as soon\nas it is dark, that we would lose sight of her, she will tack and stand\naway west again for the Brazil coast and for the bay, where thou knowest\nshe was going before; and are we not, then, running away from her? I\nam greatly in hopes, friend,\" says the dry, gibing creature, \"thou wilt\nturn Quaker, for I see thou art not for fighting.\"\n\"Very well, William,\" says I; \"then I shall make an excellent pirate.\"\nHowever, William was in the right, and I apprehended what he meant\nimmediately; and Captain Wilmot, who lay very sick in his cabin,\noverhearing us, understood him as well as I, and called out to me that\nWilliam was right, and it was our best way to change our course, and\nstand away for the bay, where it was ten to one but we should snap her\nin the morning.\nAccordingly we went about-ship, got our larboard tacks on board, set the\ntop-gallant sails, and crowded for the bay of All Saints, where we came\nto an anchor early in the morning, just out of gunshot of the forts;\nwe furled our sails with rope-yarns, that we might haul home the sheets\nwithout going up to loose them, and, lowering our main and fore-yards,\nlooked just as if we had lain there a good while.\nIn two hours afterwards we saw our game standing in for the bay with all\nthe sail she could make, and she came innocently into our very mouths,\nfor we lay still till we saw her almost within gunshot, when, our\nforemost gears being stretched fore and aft, we first ran up our yards,\nand then hauled home the topsail sheets, the rope-yarns that furled them\ngiving way of themselves; the sails were set in a few minutes; at the\nsame time slipping our cable, we came upon her before she could get\nunder way upon the other tack. They were so surprised that they made\nlittle or no resistance, but struck after the first broadside.\nWe were considering what to do with her, when William came to me. \"Hark\nthee, friend,\" says he, \"thou hast made a fine piece of work of it\nnow, hast thou not, to borrow thy neighbour's ship here just at thy\nneighbour's door, and never ask him leave? Now, dost thou not think\nthere are some men-of-war in the port? Thou hast given them the alarm\nsufficiently; thou wilt have them upon thy back before night, depend\nupon it, to ask thee wherefore thou didst so.\"\n\"Truly, William,\" said I, \"for aught I know, that may be true; what,\nthen, shall we do next?\" Says he, \"Thou hast but two things to do:\neither to go in and take all the rest, or else get thee gone before they\ncome out and take thee; for I see they are hoisting a topmast to yon\ngreat ship, in order to put to sea immediately, and they won't be long\nbefore they come to talk with thee, and what wilt thou say to them when\nthey ask thee why thou borrowedst their ship without leave?\"\nAs William said, so it was. We could see by our glasses they were all\nin a hurry, manning and fitting some sloops they had there, and a large\nman-of-war, and it was plain they would soon be with us. But we were\nnot at a loss what to do; we found the ship we had taken was laden with\nnothing considerable for our purpose, except some cocoa, some sugar, and\ntwenty barrels of flour; the rest of her cargo was hides; so we took\nout all we thought fit for our turn, and, among the rest, all her\nammunition, great shot, and small-arms, and turned her off. We also took\na cable and three anchors she had, which were for our purpose, and some\nof her sails. She had enough left just to carry her into port, and that\nwas all.\nHaving done this, we stood on upon the Brazil coast, southward, till we\ncame to the mouth of the river Janeiro. But as we had two days the wind\nblowing hard at S.E. and S.S.E., we were obliged to come to an anchor\nunder a little island, and wait for a wind. In this time the Portuguese\nhad, it seems, given notice over land to the governor there, that a\npirate was upon the coast; so that, when we came in view of the port, we\nsaw two men-of-war riding just without the bar, whereof one, we found,\nwas getting under sail with all possible speed, having slipped her\ncable on purpose to speak with us; the other was not so forward, but was\npreparing to follow. In less than an hour they stood both fair after us,\nwith all the sail they could make.\nHad not the night come on, William's words had been made good; they\nwould certainly have asked us the question what we did there, for we\nfound the foremost ship gained upon us, especially upon one tack, for we\nplied away from them to windward; but in the dark losing sight of them,\nwe resolved to change our course and stand away directly for sea, not\ndoubting that we should lose them in the night.\nWhether the Portuguese commander guessed we would do so or no, I know\nnot; but in the morning, when the daylight appeared, instead of having\nlost him, we found him in chase of us about a league astern; only, to\nour great good fortune, we could see but one of the two. However, this\none was a great ship, carried six-and-forty guns, and an admirable\nsailer, as appeared by her outsailing us; for our ship was an excellent\nsailer too, as I have said before.\nWhen I found this, I easily saw there was no remedy, but we must engage;\nand as we knew we could expect no quarter from those scoundrels the\nPortuguese, a nation I had an original aversion to, I let Captain Wilmot\nknow how it was. The captain, sick as he was, jumped up in the cabin,\nand would be led out upon the deck (for he was very weak) to see how it\nwas. \"Well,\" says he, \"we'll fight them!\"\nOur men were all in good heart before, but to see the captain so brisk,\nwho had lain ill of a calenture ten or eleven days, gave them double\ncourage, and they went all hands to work to make a clear ship and\nbe ready. William, the Quaker, comes to me with a kind of a smile.\n\"Friend,\" says he, \"what does yon ship follow us for?\" \"Why,\" says I,\n\"to fight us, you may be sure.\" \"Well,\" says he, \"and will he come up\nwith us, dost thou think?\" \"Yes,\" said I, \"you see she will.\" \"Why,\nthen, friend,\" says the dry wretch, \"why dost thou run from her still,\nwhen thou seest she will overtake thee? Will it be better for us to be\novertaken farther off than here?\" \"Much as one for that,\" says I; \"why,\nwhat would you have us do?\" \"Do!\" says he; \"let us not give the poor man\nmore trouble than needs must; let us stay for him and hear what he has\nto say to us.\" \"He will talk to us in powder and ball,\" said I. \"Very\nwell, then,\" says he, \"if that be his country language, we must talk to\nhim in the same, must we not? or else how shall he understand us?\" \"Very\nwell, William,\" says I, \"we understand you.\" And the captain, as ill as\nhe was, called to me, \"William's right again,\" says he; \"as good here\nas a league farther.\" So he gives a word of command, \"Haul up the\nmain-sail; we'll shorten sail for him.\"\nAccordingly we shortened sail, and as we expected her upon our lee-side,\nwe being then upon our starboard tack, brought eighteen of our guns to\nthe larboard side, resolving to give him a broadside that should warm\nhim. It was about half-an-hour before he came up with us, all which\ntime we luffed up, that we might keep the wind of him, by which he was\nobliged to run up under our lee, as we designed him; when we got him\nupon our quarter, we edged down, and received the fire of five or six\nof his guns. By this time you may be sure all our hands were at their\nquarters, so we clapped our helm hard a-weather, let go the lee-braces\nof the maintop sail, and laid it a-back, and so our ship fell athwart\nthe Portuguese ship's hawse; then we immediately poured in our\nbroadside, raking them fore and aft, and killed them a great many men.\nThe Portuguese, we could see, were in the utmost confusion; and not\nbeing aware of our design, their ship having fresh way, ran their\nbowsprit into the fore part of our main shrouds, as that they could\nnot easily get clear of us, and so we lay locked after that manner. The\nenemy could not bring above five or six guns, besides their small-arms,\nto bear upon us, while we played our whole broadside upon him.\nIn the middle of the heat of this fight, as I was very busy upon the\nquarter-deck, the captain calls to me, for he never stirred from us,\n\"What the devil is friend William a-doing yonder?\" says the captain;\n\"has he any business upon, deck?\" I stepped forward, and there was\nfriend William, with two or three stout fellows, lashing the ship's\nbowsprit fast to our mainmast, for fear they should get away from us;\nand every now and then he pulled a bottle out of his pocket, and gave\nthe men a dram to encourage them. The shot flew about his ears as thick\nas may be supposed in such an action, where the Portuguese, to give them\ntheir due, fought very briskly, believing at first they were sure of\ntheir game, and trusting to their superiority; but there was William, as\ncomposed, and in as perfect tranquillity as to danger, as if he had been\nover a bowl of punch, only very busy securing the matter, that a ship of\nforty-six guns should not run away from a ship of eight-and-twenty.\nThis work was too hot to hold long; our men behaved bravely: our gunner,\na gallant man, shouted below, pouring in his shot at such a rate, that\nthe Portuguese began to slacken their fire; we had dismounted several of\ntheir guns by firing in at their forecastle, and raking them, as I said,\nfore and aft. Presently comes William up to me. \"Friend,\" says he, very\ncalmly, \"what dost thou mean? Why dost thou not visit thy neighbour in\nthe ship, the door being open for thee?\" I understood him immediately,\nfor our guns had so torn their hull, that we had beat two port-holes\ninto one, and the bulk-head of their steerage was split to pieces, so\nthat they could not retire to their close quarters; so I gave the word\nimmediately to board them. Our second lieutenant, with about thirty men,\nentered in an instant over the forecastle, followed by some more with\nthe boatswain, and cutting in pieces about twenty-five men that they\nfound upon the deck, and then throwing some grenadoes into the steerage,\nthey entered there also; upon which the Portuguese cried quarter\npresently, and we mastered the ship, contrary indeed to our own\nexpectation; for we would have compounded with them if they would have\nsheered off: but laying them athwart the hawse at first, and following\nour fire furiously, without giving them any time to get clear of us and\nwork their ship; by this means, though they had six-and-forty guns, they\nwere not able to fight above five or six, as I said above, for we beat\nthem immediately from their guns in the forecastle, and killed them\nabundance of men between decks, so that when we entered they had hardly\nfound men enough to fight us hand to hand upon their deck.\nThe surprise of joy to hear the Portuguese cry quarter, and see their\nancient struck, was so great to our captain, who, as I have said, was\nreduced very weak with a high fever, that it gave him new life. Nature\nconquered the distemper, and the fever abated that very night; so that\nin two or three days he was sensibly better, his strength began to come,\nand he was able to give his orders effectually in everything that was\nmaterial, and in about ten days was entirely well and about the ship.\nIn the meantime I took possession of the Portuguese man-of-war; and\nCaptain Wilmot made me, or rather I made myself, captain of her for\nthe present. About thirty of their seamen took service with us, some of\nwhich were French, some Genoese; and we set the rest on shore the next\nday on a little island on the coast of Brazil, except some wounded men,\nwho were not in a condition to be removed, and whom we were bound to\nkeep on board; but we had an occasion afterwards to dispose of them at\nthe Cape, where, at their own request, we set them on shore.\nCaptain Wilmot, as soon as the ship was taken, and the prisoners stowed,\nwas for standing in for the river Janeiro again, not doubting but we\nshould meet with the other man-of-war, who, not having been able to\nfind us, and having lost the company of her comrade, would certainly be\nreturned, and might be surprised by the ship we had taken, if we carried\nPortuguese colours; and our men were all for it.\nBut our friend William gave us better counsel, for he came to me,\n\"Friend,\" says he, \"I understand the captain is for sailing back to the\nRio Janeiro, in hopes to meet with the other ship that was in chase of\nthee yesterday. Is it true, dost thou intend it?\" \"Why, yes,\" says I,\n\"William, pray why not?\" \"Nay,\" says he, \"thou mayest do so if thou\nwilt.\" \"Well, I know that too, William,\" said I, \"but the captain is a\nman will be ruled by reason; what have you to say to it?\" \"Why,\" says\nWilliam gravely, \"I only ask what is thy business, and the business\nof all the people thou hast with thee? Is it not to get money?\" \"Yes,\nWilliam, it is so, in our honest way.\" \"And wouldest thou,\" says he,\n\"rather have money without fighting, or fighting without money? I mean\nwhich wouldest thou have by choice, suppose it to be left to thee?\" \"O\nWilliam,\" says I, \"the first of the two, to be sure.\" \"Why, then,\" says\nhe, \"what great gain hast thou made of the prize thou hast taken now,\nthough it has cost the lives of thirteen of thy men, besides some hurt?\nIt is true thou hast got the ship and some prisoners; but thou wouldest\nhave had twice the booty in a merchant-ship, with not one quarter of the\nfighting; and how dost thou know either what force or what number of\nmen may be in the other ship, and what loss thou mayest suffer, and what\ngain it shall be to thee if thou take her? I think, indeed, thou mayest\nmuch better let her alone.\"\n\"Why, William, it is true,\" said I, \"and I'll go tell the captain what\nyour opinion is, and bring you word what he says.\" Accordingly in I went\nto the captain and told him William's reasons; and the captain was of\nhis mind, that our business was indeed fighting when we could not help\nit, but that our main affair was money, and that with as few blows as we\ncould. So that adventure was laid aside, and we stood along shore again\nsouth for the river De la Plata, expecting some purchase thereabouts;\nespecially we had our eyes upon some of the Spanish ships from Buenos\nAyres, which are generally very rich in silver, and one such prize would\nhave done our business. We plied about here, in the latitude of ----\nsouth, for near a month, and nothing offered; and here we began to\nconsult what we should do next, for we had come to no resolution yet.\nIndeed, my design was always for the Cape de Bona Speranza, and so to\nthe East Indies. I had heard some flaming stories of Captain Avery,\nand the fine things he had done in the Indies, which were doubled and\ndoubled, even ten thousand fold; and from taking a great prize in\nthe Bay of Bengal, where he took a lady, said to be the Great Mogul's\ndaughter, with a great quantity of jewels about her, we had a story told\nus, that he took a Mogul ship, so the foolish sailors called it, laden\nwith diamonds.\nI would fain have had friend William's advice whither we should go, but\nhe always put it off with some quaking quibble or other. In short,\nhe did not care for directing us neither; whether he made a piece of\nconscience of it, or whether he did not care to venture having it come\nagainst him afterwards or no, this I know not; but we concluded at last\nwithout him.\nWe were, however, pretty long in resolving, and hankered about the Rio\nde la Plata a long time. At last we spied a sail to windward, and it was\nsuch a sail as I believe had not been seen in that part of the world a\ngreat while. It wanted not that we should give it chase, for it stood\ndirectly towards us, as well as they that steered could make it; and\neven that was more accident of weather than anything else, for if the\nwind had chopped about anywhere they must have gone with it. I leave any\nman that is a sailor, or understands anything of a ship, to judge what\na figure this ship made when we first saw her, and what we could imagine\nwas the matter with her. Her maintop-mast was come by the board\nabout six foot above the cap, and fell forward, the head of the\ntopgallant-mast hanging in the fore-shrouds by the stay; at the same\ntime the parrel of the mizzen-topsail-yard by some accident giving way,\nthe mizzen-topsail-braces (the standing part of which being fast to the\nmain-topsail shrouds) brought the mizzen-topsail, yard and all, down\nwith it, which spread over part of the quarter-deck like an awning; the\nfore-topsail was hoisted up two-thirds of the mast, but the sheets were\nflown; the fore-yard was lowered down upon the forecastle, the sail\nloose, and part of it hanging overboard. In this manner she came down\nupon us with the wind quartering. In a word, the figure the whole ship\nmade was the most confounding to men that understood the sea that ever\nwas seen. She had no boat, neither had she any colours out.\nWhen we came near to her, we fired a gun to bring her to. She took no\nnotice of it, nor of us, but came on just as she did before. We fired\nagain, but it was all one. At length we came within pistol-shot of one\nanother, but nobody answered nor appeared; so we began to think that\nit was a ship gone ashore somewhere in distress, and the men having\nforsaken her, the high tide had floated her off to sea. Coming nearer\nto her, we ran up alongside of her so close that we could hear a noise\nwithin her, and see the motion of several people through her ports.\nUpon this we manned out two boats full of men, and very well armed, and\nordered them to board her at the same minute, as near as they could, and\nto enter one at her fore-chains on the one side, and the other amidships\non the other side. As soon as they came to the ship's side, a surprising\nmultitude of black sailors, such as they were, appeared upon deck, and,\nin short, terrified our men so much that the boat which was to enter her\nmen in the waist stood off again, and durst not board her; and the men\nthat entered out of the other boat, finding the first boat, as they\nthought, beaten off, and seeing the ship full of men, jumped all back\nagain into their boat, and put off, not knowing what the matter was.\nUpon this we prepared to pour in a broadside upon her; but our friend\nWilliam set us to rights again here; for it seems he guessed how it was\nsooner than we did, and coming up to me (for it was our ship that came\nup with her), \"Friend,\" says he, \"I am of opinion that thou art wrong\nin this matter, and thy men have been wrong also in their conduct. I'll\ntell thee how thou shalt take this ship, without making use of those\nthings called guns.\" \"How can that be, William?\" said I. \"Why,\" said he,\n\"thou mayest take her with thy helm; thou seest they keep no steerage,\nand thou seest the condition they are in; board her with thy ship upon\nher lee quarter, and so enter her from the ship. I am persuaded thou\nwilt take her without fighting, for there is some mischief has befallen\nthe ship, which we know nothing of.\"\nIn a word, it being a smooth sea, and little wind, I took his advice,\nand laid her aboard. Immediately our men entered the ship, where we\nfound a large ship, with upwards of 600 negroes, men and women, boys and\ngirls, and not one Christian or white man on board.\nI was struck with horror at the sight; for immediately I concluded, as\nwas partly the case, that these black devils had got loose, had murdered\nall the white men, and thrown them into the sea; and I had no sooner\ntold my mind to the men, but the thought so enraged them that I had much\nado to keep my men from cutting them all in pieces. But William, with\nmany persuasions, prevailed upon them, by telling them that it was\nnothing but what, if they were in the negroes' condition, they would\ndo if they could; and that the negroes had really the highest injustice\ndone them, to be sold for slaves without their consent; and that the\nlaw of nature dictated it to them; that they ought not to kill them, and\nthat it would be wilful murder to do it.\nThis prevailed with them, and cooled their first heat; so they only\nknocked down twenty or thirty of them, and the rest ran all down between\ndecks to their first places, believing, as we fancied, that we were\ntheir first masters come again.\nIt was a most unaccountable difficulty we had next; for we could not\nmake them understand one word we said, nor could we understand one word\nourselves that they said. We endeavoured by signs to ask them whence\nthey came; but they could make nothing of it. We pointed to the great\ncabin, to the round-house, to the cook-room, then to our faces, to ask\nif they had no white men on board, and where they were gone; but they\ncould not understand what we meant. On the other hand, they pointed to\nour boat and to their ship, asking questions as well as they could, and\nsaid a thousand things, and expressed themselves with great earnestness;\nbut we could not understand a word of it all, or know what they meant by\nany of their signs.\nWe knew very well they must have been taken on board the ship as slaves,\nand that it must be by some European people too. We could easily see\nthat the ship was a Dutch-built ship, but very much altered, having been\nbuilt upon, and, as we supposed, in France; for we found two or three\nFrench books on board, and afterwards we found clothes, linen, lace,\nsome old shoes, and several other things. We found among the provisions\nsome barrels of Irish beef, some Newfoundland fish, and several other\nevidences that there had been Christians on board, but saw no remains of\nthem. We found not a sword, gun, pistol, or weapon of any kind, except\nsome cutlasses; and the negroes had hid them below where they lay. We\nasked them what was become of all the small-arms, pointing to our own\nand to the places where those belonging to the ship had hung. One of\nthe negroes understood me presently, and beckoned to me to come upon the\ndeck, where, taking my fuzee, which I never let go out of my hand for\nsome time after we had mastered the ship--I say, offering to take hold\nof it, he made the proper motion of throwing it into the sea; by which\nI understood, as I did afterwards, that they had thrown all the\nsmall-arms, powder, shot, swords, &c., into the sea, believing, as I\nsupposed, those things would kill them, though the men were gone.\nAfter we understood this we made no question but that the ship's crew,\nhaving been surprised by these desperate rogues, had gone the same way,\nand had been thrown overboard also. We looked all over the ship to\nsee if we could find any blood, and we thought we did perceive some in\nseveral places; but the heat of the sun, melting the pitch and tar upon\nthe decks, made it impossible for us to discern it exactly, except in\nthe round-house, where we plainly saw that there had been much blood. We\nfound the scuttle open, by which we supposed that the captain and those\nthat were with him had made their retreat into the great cabin, or those\nin the cabin had made their escape up into the round-house.\nBut that which confirmed us most of all in what had happened was that,\nupon further inquiry, we found that there were seven or eight of the\nnegroes very much wounded, two or three of them with shot, whereof one\nhad his leg broken and lay in a miserable condition, the flesh being\nmortified, and, as our friend William said, in two days more he would\nhave died. William was a most dexterous surgeon, and he showed it in\nthis cure; for though all the surgeons we had on board both our ships\n(and we had no less than five that called themselves bred surgeons,\nbesides two or three who were pretenders or assistants)--though all\nthese gave their opinions that the negro's leg must be cut off, and\nthat his life could not be saved without it; that the mortification had\ntouched the marrow in the bone, that the tendons were mortified, and\nthat he could never have the use of his leg if it should be cured,\nWilliam said nothing in general, but that his opinion was otherwise, and\nthat he desired the wound might be searched, and that he would then\ntell them further. Accordingly he went to work with the leg; and, as\nhe desired that he might have some of the surgeons to assist him, we\nappointed him two of the ablest of them to help, and all of them to look\non, if they thought fit.\nWilliam went to work his own way, and some of them pretended to find\nfault at first. However, he proceeded and searched every part of the leg\nwhere he suspected the mortification had touched it; in a word, he cut\noff a great deal of mortified flesh, in all which the poor fellow felt\nno pain. William proceeded till he brought the vessels which he had cut\nto bleed, and the man to cry out; then he reduced the splinters of the\nbone, and, calling for help, set it, as we call it, and bound it up, and\nlaid the man to rest, who found himself much easier than before.\nAt the first opening the surgeons began to triumph; the mortification\nseemed to spread, and a long red streak of blood appeared from the wound\nupwards to the middle of the man's thigh, and the surgeons told me the\nman would die in a few hours. I went to look at it, and found William\nhimself under some surprise; but when I asked him how long he thought\nthe poor fellow could live, he looked gravely at me, and said, \"As long\nas thou canst; I am not at all apprehensive of his life,\" said he, \"but\nI would cure him, if I could, without making a cripple of him.\" I found\nhe was not just then upon the operation as to his leg, but was mixing\nup something to give the poor creature, to repel, as I thought, the\nspreading contagion, and to abate or prevent any feverish temper that\nmight happen in the blood; after which he went to work again, and opened\nthe leg in two places above the wound, cutting out a great deal of\nmortified flesh, which it seemed was occasioned by the bandage, which\nhad pressed the parts too much; and withal, the blood being at the time\nin a more than common disposition to mortify, might assist to spread it.\nWell, our friend William conquered all this, cleared the spreading\nmortification, and the red streak went off again, the flesh began to\nheal, and matter to run; and in a few days the man's spirits began to\nrecover, his pulse beat regular, he had no fever, and gathered strength\ndaily; and, in a word, he was a perfect sound man in about ten weeks,\nand we kept him amongst us, and made him an able seaman. But to return\nto the ship: we never could come at a certain information about it, till\nsome of the negroes which we kept on board, and whom we taught to speak\nEnglish, gave the account of it afterwards, and this maimed man in\nparticular.\nWe inquired, by all the signs and motions we could imagine, what was\nbecome of the people, and yet we could get nothing from them. Our\nlieutenant was for torturing some of them to make them confess,\nbut William opposed that vehemently; and when he heard it was under\nconsideration he came to me. \"Friend,\" says he, \"I make a request to\nthee not to put any of these poor wretches to torment.\" \"Why, William,\"\nsaid I, \"why not? You see they will not give any account of what is\nbecome of the white men.\" \"Nay,\" says William, \"do not say so; I suppose\nthey have given thee a full account of every particular of it.\" \"How\nso?\" says I; \"pray what are we the wiser for all their jabbering?\"\n\"Nay,\" says William, \"that may be thy fault, for aught I know; thou wilt\nnot punish the poor men because they cannot speak English; and perhaps\nthey never heard a word of English before. Now, I may very well suppose\nthat they have given thee a large account of everything; for thou seest\nwith what earnestness, and how long, some of them have talked to thee;\nand if thou canst not understand their language, nor they thine, how can\nthey help that? At the best, thou dost but suppose that they have not\ntold thee the whole truth of the story; and, on the contrary, I suppose\nthey have; and how wilt thou decide the question, whether thou art right\nor whether I am right? Besides, what can they say to thee when thou\naskest them a question upon the torture, and at the same time they do\nnot understand the question, and thou dost not know whether they say ay\nor no?\"\nIt is no compliment to my moderation to say I was convinced by these\nreasons; and yet we had all much ado to keep our second lieutenant from\nmurdering some of them, to make them tell. What if they had told? He did\nnot understand one word of it; but he would not be persuaded but that\nthe negroes must needs understand him when he asked them whether the\nship had any boat or no, like ours, and what was become of it.\nBut there was no remedy but to wait till we made these people understand\nEnglish, and to adjourn the story till that time. The case was thus:\nwhere they were taken on board the ship, that we could never understand,\nbecause they never knew the English names which we give to those coasts,\nor what nation they were who belonged to the ship, because they knew not\none tongue from another; but thus far the negro I examined, who was the\nsame whose leg William had cured, told us, that they did not speak the\nsame language as we spoke, nor the same our Portuguese spoke; so that in\nall probability they must be French or Dutch.\nThen he told us that the white men used them barbarously; that they beat\nthem unmercifully; that one of the negro men had a wife and two negro\nchildren, one a daughter, about sixteen years old; that a white man\nabused the negro man's wife, and afterwards his daughter, which, as he\nsaid, made all the negro men mad; and that the woman's husband was in a\ngreat rage; at which the white man was so provoked that he threatened\nto kill him; but, in the night, the negro man, being loose, got a great\nclub, by which he made us understand he meant a handspike, and that when\nthe same Frenchman (if it was a Frenchman) came among them again, he\nbegan again to abuse the negro man's wife, at which the negro, taking up\nthe handspike, knocked his brains out at one blow; and then taking the\nkey from him with which he usually unlocked the handcuffs which the\nnegroes were fettered with, he set about a hundred of them at liberty,\nwho, getting up upon the deck by the same scuttle that the white men\ncame down, and taking the man's cutlass who was killed, and laying hold\nof what came next them, they fell upon the men that were upon the\ndeck, and killed them all, and afterwards those they found upon the\nforecastle; that the captain and his other men, who were in the cabin\nand the round-house, defended themselves with great courage, and shot\nout at the loopholes at them, by which he and several other men were\nwounded, and some killed; but that they broke into the round-house after\na long dispute, where they killed two of the white men, but owned that\nthe two white men killed eleven of their men before they could break\nin; and then the rest, having got down the scuttle into the great cabin,\nwounded three more of them.\nThat, after this, the gunner of the ship having secured himself in the\ngun-room, one of his men hauled up the long-boat close under the stern,\nand putting into her all the arms and ammunition they could come at, got\nall into the boat, and afterwards took in the captain, and those that\nwere with him, out of the great cabin. When they were all thus embarked,\nthey resolved to lay the ship aboard again, and try to recover it. That\nthey boarded the ship in a desperate manner, and killed at first all\nthat stood in their way; but the negroes being by this time all loose,\nand having gotten some arms, though they understood nothing of powder\nand bullet, or guns, yet the men could never master them. However, they\nlay under the ship's bow, and got out all the men they had left in the\ncook-room, who had maintained themselves there, notwithstanding all the\nnegroes could do, and with their small-arms killed between thirty and\nforty of the negroes, but were at last forced to leave them.\nThey could give me no account whereabouts this was, whether near the\ncoast of Africa, or far off, or how long it was before the ship fell\ninto our hands; only, in general, it was a great while ago, as they\ncalled it; and, by all we could learn, it was within two or three days\nafter they had set sail from the coast. They told us that they had\nkilled about thirty of the white men, having knocked them on the head\nwith crows and handspikes, and such things as they could get; and one\nstrong negro killed three of them with an iron crow, after he was shot\ntwice through the body; and that he was afterwards shot through the\nhead by the captain himself at the door of the round-house, which he had\nsplit open with the crow; and this we supposed was the occasion of the\ngreat quantity of blood which we saw at the round-house door.\nThe same negro told us that they threw all the powder and shot they\ncould find into the sea, and they would have thrown the great guns into\nthe sea if they could have lifted them. Being asked how they came\nto have their sails in such a condition, his answer was, \"They no\nunderstand; they no know what the sails do;\" that was, they did not so\nmuch as know that it was the sails that made the ship go, or understand\nwhat they meant, or what to do with them. When we asked him whither they\nwere going, he said they did not know, but believed they should go home\nto their own country again. I asked him, in particular, what he thought\nwe were when we first came up with them? He said they were terribly\nfrighted, believing we were the same white men that had gone away in\ntheir boats, and were come again in a great ship, with the two boats\nwith them, and expected they would kill them all.\nThis was the account we got out of them, after we had taught them\nto speak English, and to understand the names and use of the things\nbelonging to the ship which they had occasion to speak of; and we\nobserved that the fellows were too innocent to dissemble in their\nrelation, and that they all agreed in the particulars, and were always\nin the same story, which confirmed very much the truth of what they\nsaid.\nHaving taken this ship, our next difficulty was, what to do with the\nnegroes. The Portuguese in the Brazils would have bought them all of us,\nand been glad of the purchase, if we had not showed ourselves enemies\nthere, and been known for pirates; but, as it was, we durst not go\nashore anywhere thereabouts, or treat with any of the planters, because\nwe should raise the whole country upon us; and, if there were any such\nthings as men-of-war in any of their ports, we should be as sure to be\nattacked by them, and by all the force they had by land or sea.\nNor could we think of any better success if we went northward to our own\nplantations. One while we determined to carry them all away to Buenos\nAyres, and sell them there to the Spaniards; but they were really too\nmany for them to make use of; and to carry them round to the South Seas,\nwhich was the only remedy that was left, was so far that we should be no\nway able to subsist them for so long a voyage.\nAt last, our old, never-failing friend, William, helped us out again, as\nhe had often done at a dead lift. His proposal was this, that he should\ngo as master of the ship, and about twenty men, such as we could best\ntrust, and attempt to trade privately, upon the coast of Brazil, with\nthe planters, not at the principal ports, because that would not be\nadmitted.\nWe all agreed to this, and appointed to go away ourselves towards the\nRio de la Plata, where we had thought of going before, and to wait for\nhim, not there, but at Port St Pedro, as the Spaniards call it, lying\nat the mouth of the river which they call Rio Grande, and where the\nSpaniards had a small fort and a few people, but we believe there was\nnobody in it.\nHere we took up our station, cruising off and on, to see if we could\nmeet any ships going to or coming from the Buenos Ayres or the Rio de\nla Plata; but we met with nothing worth notice. However, we employed\nourselves in things necessary for our going off to sea; for we filled\nall our water-casks, and got some fish for our present use, to spare as\nmuch as possible our ship's stores.\nWilliam, in the meantime, went away to the north, and made the land\nabout the Cape de St Thomas; and betwixt that and the isles De Tuberon\nhe found means to trade with the planters for all his negroes, as well\nthe women as the men, and at a very good price too; for William, who\nspoke Portuguese pretty well, told them a fair story enough, that the\nship was in scarcity of provisions, that they were driven a great way\nout of their way, and indeed, as we say, out of their knowledge, and\nthat they must go up to the northward as far as Jamaica, or sell there\nupon the coast. This was a very plausible tale, and was easily believed;\nand, if you observe the manner of the negroes' sailing, and what\nhappened in their voyage, was every word of it true.\nBy this method, and being true to one another, William passed for what\nhe was--I mean, for a very honest fellow; and by the assistance of one\nplanter, who sent to some of his neighbour planters, and managed the\ntrade among themselves, he got a quick market; for in less than five\nweeks William sold all his negroes, and at last sold the ship itself,\nand shipped himself and his twenty men, with two negro boys whom he had\nleft, in a sloop, one of those which the planters used to send on board\nfor the negroes. With this sloop Captain William, as we then called him,\ncame away, and found us at Port St Pedro, in the latitude of 32 degrees\n30 minutes south.\nNothing was more surprising to us than to see a sloop come along the\ncoast, carrying Portuguese colours, and come in directly to us, after we\nwere assured he had discovered both our ships. We fired a gun, upon her\nnearer approach, to bring her to an anchor, but immediately she fired\nfive guns by way of salute, and spread her English ancient. Then we\nbegan to guess it was friend William, but wondered what was the meaning\nof his being in a sloop, whereas we sent him away in a ship of near 300\ntons; but he soon let us into the whole history of his management, with\nwhich we had a great deal of reason to be very well satisfied. As soon\nas he had brought the sloop to an anchor, he came aboard of my ship,\nand there he gave us an account how he began to trade by the help of a\nPortuguese planter, who lived near the seaside; how he went on shore and\nwent up to the first house he could see, and asked the man of the house\nto sell him some hogs, pretending at first he only stood in upon the\ncoast to take in fresh water and buy some provisions; and the man not\nonly sold him seven fat hogs, but invited him in, and gave him, and five\nmen he had with him, a very good dinner; and he invited the planter on\nboard his ship, and, in return for his kindness, gave him a negro girl\nfor his wife.\nThis so obliged the planter that the next morning he sent him on board,\nin a great luggage-boat, a cow and two sheep, with a chest of sweetmeats\nand some sugar, and a great bag of tobacco, and invited Captain William\non shore again; that, after this, they grew from one kindness to\nanother; that they began to talk about trading for some negroes; and\nWilliam, pretending it was to do him service, consented to sell him\nthirty negroes for his private use in his plantation, for which he gave\nWilliam ready money in gold, at the rate of five-and-thirty moidores per\nhead; but the planter was obliged to use great caution in the bringing\nthem on shore; for which purpose he made William weigh and stand out\nto sea, and put in again, about fifty miles farther north, where at a\nlittle creek he took the negroes on shore at another plantation, being a\nfriend's of his, whom, it seems, he could trust.\nThis remove brought William into a further intimacy, not only with the\nfirst planter, but also with his friends, who desired to have some of\nthe negroes also; so that, from one to another, they bought so many,\ntill one overgrown planter took 100 negroes, which was all William\nhad left, and sharing them with another planter, that other planter\nchaffered with William for ship and all, giving him in exchange a very\nclean, large, well-built sloop of near sixty tons, very well furnished,\ncarrying six guns; but we made her afterwards carry twelve guns. William\nhad 300 moidores of gold, besides the sloop, in payment for the ship;\nand with this money he stored the sloop as full as she could hold with\nprovisions, especially bread, some pork, and about sixty hogs alive;\namong the rest, William got eighty barrels of good gunpowder, which\nwas very much for our purpose; and all the provisions which were in the\nFrench ship he took out also.\nThis was a very agreeable account to us, especially when we saw that\nWilliam had received in gold coined, or by weight, and some Spanish\nsilver, 60,000 pieces of eight, besides a new sloop, and a vast quantity\nof provisions.\nWe were very glad of the sloop in particular, and began to consult what\nwe should do, whether we had not best turn off our great Portuguese\nship, and stick to our first ship and the sloop, seeing we had scarce\nmen enough for all three, and that the biggest ship was thought too\nbig for our business. However, another dispute, which was now decided,\nbrought the first to a conclusion. The first dispute was, whither we\nshould go. My comrade, as I called him now, that is to say, he that was\nmy captain before we took this Portuguese man-of-war, was for going to\nthe South Seas, and coasting up the west side of America, where we could\nnot fail of making several good prizes upon the Spaniards; and that\nthen, if occasion required it, we might come home by the South Seas to\nthe East Indies, and so go round the globe, as others had done before\nus.\nBut my head lay another way. I had been in the East Indies, and had\nentertained a notion ever since that, if we went thither, we could not\nfail of making good work of it, and that we might have a safe retreat,\nand good beef to victual our ship, among my old friends the natives of\nZanzibar, on the coast of Mozambique, or the island of St Lawrence. I\nsay, my thoughts lay this way; and I read so many lectures to them all\nof the advantages they would certainly make of their strength by the\nprizes they would take in the Gulf of Mocha, or the Red Sea, and on the\ncoast of Malabar, or the Bay of Bengal, that I amazed them.\nWith these arguments I prevailed on them, and we all resolved to\nsteer away S.E. for the Cape of Good Hope; and, in consequence of this\nresolution, we concluded to keep the sloop, and sail with all three, not\ndoubting, as I assured them, but we should find men there to make up\nthe number wanting, and if not, we might cast any of them off when we\npleased.\nWe could do no less than make our friend William captain of the sloop\nwhich, with such good management, he had brought us. He told us, though\nwith much good manners, he would not command her as a frigate; but, if\nwe would give her to him for his share of the Guinea ship, which we\ncame very honestly by, he would keep us company as a victualler, if\nwe commanded him, as long as he was under the same force that took him\naway.\nWe understood him, so gave him the sloop, but upon condition that\nhe should not go from us, and should be entirely under our command.\nHowever, William was not so easy as before; and, indeed, as we\nafterwards wanted the sloop to cruise for purchase, and a right\nthorough-paced pirate in her, so I was in such pain for William that I\ncould not be without him, for he was my privy counsellor and companion\nupon all occasions; so I put a Scotsman, a bold, enterprising, gallant\nfellow, into her, named Gordon, and made her carry twelve guns and four\npetereroes, though, indeed, we wanted men, for we were none of us manned\nin proportion to our force.\nWe sailed away for the Cape of Good Hope the beginning of October 1706,\nand passed by, in sight of the Cape, the 12th of November following,\nhaving met with a great deal of bad weather. We saw several\nmerchant-ships in the roads there, as well English as Dutch, whether\noutward bound or homeward we could not tell; be it what it would, we did\nnot think fit to come to an anchor, not knowing what they might be,\nor what they might attempt against us, when they knew what we were.\nHowever, as we wanted fresh water, we sent the two boats belonging to\nthe Portuguese man-of-war, with all Portuguese seamen or negroes in\nthem, to the watering-place, to take in water; and in the meantime we\nhung out a Portuguese ancient at sea, and lay by all that night. They\nknew not what we were, but it seems we passed for anything but really\nwhat we was.\nOur boats returning the third time loaden, about five o'clock next\nmorning, we thought ourselves sufficiently watered, and stood away\nto the eastward; but, before our men returned the last time, the wind\nblowing an easy gale at west, we perceived a boat in the grey of the\nmorning under sail, crowding to come up with us, as if they were afraid\nwe should be gone. We soon found it was an English long-boat, and that\nit was pretty full of men. We could not imagine what the meaning of it\nshould be; but, as it was but a boat, we thought there could be no great\nharm in it to let them come on board; and if it appeared they came\nonly to inquire who we were, we would give them a full account of our\nbusiness, by taking them along with us, seeing we wanted men as much as\nanything. But they saved us the labour of being in doubt how to dispose\nof them; for it seems our Portuguese seamen, who went for water, had\nnot been so silent at the watering-places as we thought they would have\nbeen. But the case, in short, was this: Captain ---- (I forbear his\nname at present, for a particular reason), captain of an East India\nmerchant-ship, bound afterwards for China, had found some reason to be\nvery severe with his men, and had handled some of them very roughly at\nSt Helena; insomuch, that they threatened among themselves to leave the\nship the first opportunity, and had long wished for that opportunity.\nSome of these men, it seems, had met with our boat at the\nwatering-place, and inquiring of one another who we were, and upon what\naccount, whether the Portuguese seamen, by faltering in their account,\nmade them suspect that we were out upon the cruise, or whether they\ntold it in plain English or no (for they all spoke English enough to\nbe understood), but so it was, that as soon as ever the men carried the\nnews on board, that the ships which lay by to the eastward were English,\nand that they were going upon the _account_, which, by they way, was a\nsea term for a pirate; I say, as soon as ever they heard it, they went\nto work, and getting all things ready in the night, their chests and\nclothes, and whatever else they could, they came away before it was day,\nand came up with us about seven o'clock.\nWhen they came by the ship's side which I commanded we hailed them\nin the usual manner, to know what and who they were, and what their\nbusiness. They answered they were Englishmen, and desired to come on\nboard. We told them they might lay the ship on board, but ordered they\nshould let only one man enter the ship till the captain knew their\nbusiness, and that he should come without any arms. They said, Ay, with\nall their hearts.\nWe presently found their business, and that they desired to go with us;\nand as for their arms, they desired we would send men on board the boat,\nand that they would deliver them all to us, which was done. The fellow\nthat came up to me told me how they had been used by their captain, how\nhe had starved the men, and used them like dogs, and that, if the rest\nof the men knew they should be admitted, he was satisfied two-thirds\nof them would leave the ship. We found the fellows were very hearty in\ntheir resolution, and jolly brisk sailors they were; so I told them I\nwould do nothing without our admiral, that was the captain of the other\nship; so I sent my pinnace on board Captain Wilmot, to desire him to\ncome on board. But he was indisposed, and being to leeward, excused his\ncoming, but left it all to me; but before my boat was returned, Captain\nWilmot called to me by his speaking-trumpet, which all the men might\nhear as well as I; thus, calling me by my name, \"I hear they are honest\nfellows; pray tell them they are all welcome, and make them a bowl of\npunch.\"\nAs the men heard it as well as I, there was no need to tell them what\nthe captain said; and, as soon as the trumpet had done, they set up a\nhuzza, that showed us they were very hearty in their coming to us; but\nwe bound them to us by a stronger obligation still after this, for when\nwe came to Madagascar, Captain Wilmot, with consent of all the ship's\ncompany, ordered that these men should have as much money given them out\nof the stock as was due to them for their pay in the ship they had\nleft; and after that we allowed them twenty pieces of eight a man bounty\nmoney; and thus we entered them upon shares, as we were all, and brave\nstout fellows they were, being eighteen in number, whereof two were\nmidshipmen, and one a carpenter.\nIt was the 28th of November, when, having had some bad weather, we came\nto an anchor in the road off St Augustine Bay, at the south-west end\nof my old acquaintance the isle of Madagascar. We lay here awhile and\ntrafficked with the natives for some good beef; though the weather was\nso hot that we could not promise ourselves to salt any of it up to keep;\nbut I showed them the way which we practised before, to salt it first\nwith saltpetre, then cure it by drying it in the sun, which made it eat\nvery agreeably, though not so wholesome for our men, that not agreeing\nwith our way of cooking, viz., boiling with pudding, brewis, &c., and\nparticularly this way, would be too salt, and the fat of the meat be\nrusty, or dried away so as not to be eaten.\nThis, however, we could not help, and made ourselves amends by feeding\nheartily on the fresh beef while we were there, which was excellent,\ngood and fat, every way as tender and as well relished as in England,\nand thought to be much better to us who had not tasted any in England\nfor so long a time.\nHaving now for some time remained here, we began to consider that\nthis was not a place for our business; and I, that had some views a\nparticular way of my own, told them that this was not a station for\nthose who looked for purchase; that there were two parts of the island\nwhich were particularly proper for our purposes; first, the bay on the\neast side of the island, and from thence to the island Mauritius, which\nwas the usual way which ships that came from the Malabar coast, or the\ncoast of Coromandel, Fort St George, &c., used to take, and where, if we\nwaited for them, we ought to take our station.\nBut, on the other hand, as we did not resolve to fall upon the European\ntraders, who were generally ships of force and well manned, and where\nblows must be looked for; so I had another prospect, which I promised\nmyself would yield equal profit, or perhaps greater, without any of the\nhazard and difficulty of the former; and this was the Gulf of Mocha, or\nthe Red Sea.\nI told them that the trade here was great, the ships rich, and the\nStrait of Babelmandel narrow; so that there was no doubt but we might\ncruise so as to let nothing slip our hands, having the seas open from\nthe Red Sea, along the coast of Arabia, to the Persian Gulf, and the\nMalabar side of the Indies.\nI told them what I had observed when I sailed round the island in my\nformer progress; how that, on the northernmost point of the island,\nthere were several very good harbours and roads for our ships; that\nthe natives were even more civil and tractable, if possible, than those\nwhere we were, not having been so often ill-treated by European sailors\nas those had in the south and east sides; and that we might always be\nsure of a retreat, if we were driven to put in by any necessity, either\nof enemies or weather.\nThey were easily convinced of the reasonableness of my scheme; and\nCaptain Wilmot, whom I now called our admiral, though he was at first of\nthe mind to go and lie at the island Mauritius, and wait for some of\nthe European merchant-ships from the road of Coromandel, or the Bay of\nBengal, was now of my mind. It is true we were strong enough to have\nattacked an English East India ship of the greatest force, though some\nof them were said to carry fifty guns; but I represented to him that\nwe were sure to have blows and blood if we took them; and, after we had\ndone, their loading was not of equal value to us, because we had no room\nto dispose of their merchandise; and, as our circumstances stood, we had\nrather have taken one outward-bound East India ship, with her ready cash\non board, perhaps to the value of forty or fifty thousand pounds, than\nthree homeward-bound, though their loading would at London be worth\nthree times the money, because we knew not whither to go to dispose of\nthe cargo; whereas the ships from London had abundance of things we\nknew how to make use of besides their money, such as their stores of\nprovisions and liquors, and great quantities of the like sent to the\ngovernors and factories at the English settlements for their use; so\nthat, if we resolved to look for our own country ships, it should be\nthose that were outward-bound, not the London ships homeward.\nAll these things considered, brought the admiral to be of my mind\nentirely; so, after taking in water and some fresh provisions where\nwe lay, which was near Cape St Mary, on the south-west corner of the\nisland, we weighed and stood away south, and afterwards S.S.E., to\nround the island, and in about six days' sail got out of the wake of the\nisland, and steered away north, till we came off Port Dauphin, and then\nnorth by east, to the latitude of 13 degrees 40 minutes, which was, in\nshort, just at the farthest part of the island; and the admiral, keeping\nahead, made the open sea fair to the west, clear of the whole island;\nupon which he brought to, and we sent a sloop to stand in round the\nfarthest point north, and coast along the shore, and see for a harbour\nto put into, which they did, and soon brought us an account that there\nwas a deep bay, with a very good road, and several little islands, under\nwhich they found good riding, in ten to seventeen fathom water, and\naccordingly there we put in.\nHowever, we afterwards found occasion to remove our station, as you\nshall hear presently. We had now nothing to do but go on shore, and\nacquaint ourselves a little with the natives, take in fresh water and\nsome fresh provisions, and then to sea again. We found the people\nvery easy to deal with, and some cattle they had; but it being at the\nextremity of the island, they had not such quantities of cattle here.\nHowever, for the present we resolved to appoint this for our place of\nrendezvous, and go and look out. This was about the latter end of April.\nAccordingly we put to sea, and cruised away to the northward, for the\nArabian coast. It was a long run, but as the winds generally blow trade\nfrom the S. and S.S.E. from May to September, we had good weather; and\nin about twenty days we made the island of Socotra, lying south from the\nArabian coast, and E.S.E. from the mouth of the Gulf of Mocha, or the\nRed Sea.\nHere we took in water, and stood off and on upon the Arabian shore. We\nhad not cruised here above three days, or thereabouts, but I spied a\nsail, and gave her chase; but when we came up with her, never was such a\npoor prize chased by pirates that looked for booty, for we found nothing\nin her but poor, half-naked Turks, going a pilgrimage to Mecca, to the\ntomb of their prophet Mahomet. The junk that carried them had no one\nthing worth taking away but a little rice and some coffee, which was\nall the poor wretches had for their subsistence; so we let them go, for\nindeed we knew not what to do with them.\nThe same evening we chased another junk with two masts, and in something\nbetter plight to look at than the former. When we came on board we found\nthem upon the same errand, but only that they were people of some better\nfashion than the other; and here we got some plunder, some Turkish\nstores, a few diamonds in the ear-drops of five or six persons, some\nfine Persian carpets, of which they made their saffras to lie upon, and\nsome money; so we let them go also.\nWe continued here eleven days longer, and saw nothing but now and then a\nfishing-boat; but the twelfth day of our cruise we spied a ship: indeed\nI thought at first it had been an English ship, but it appeared to be\nan European freighted for a voyage from Goa, on the coast of Malabar, to\nthe Red Sea, and was very rich. We chased her, and took her without any\nfight, though they had some guns on board too, but not many. We found\nher manned with Portuguese seamen, but under the direction of five\nmerchant Turks, who had hired her on the coast of Malabar of some\nPortugal merchants, and had laden her with pepper, saltpetre, some\nspices, and the rest of the loading was chiefly calicoes and wrought\nsilks, some of them very rich.\nWe took her and carried her to Socotra; but we really knew not what to\ndo with her, for the same reasons as before; for all their goods were of\nlittle or no value to us. After some days we found means to let one of\nthe Turkish merchants know, that if he would ransom the ship we would\ntake a sum of money and let them go. He told me that if I would let one\nof them go on shore for the money they would do it; so we adjusted the\nvalue of the cargo at 30,000 ducats. Upon this agreement, we allowed the\nsloop to carry him on shore, at Dofar, in Arabia, where a rich merchant\nlaid down the money for them, and came off with our sloop; and on\npayment of the money we very fairly and honestly let them go.\nSome days after this we took an Arabian junk, going from the Gulf of\nPersia to Mocha, with a good quantity of pearl on board. We gutted him\nof the pearl, which it seems was belonging to some merchants at Mocha,\nand let him go, for there was nothing else worth our taking.\nWe continued cruising up and down here till we began to find our\nprovisions grow low, when Captain Wilmot, our admiral, told us it was\ntime to think of going back to the rendezvous; and the rest of the men\nsaid the same, being a little weary of beating about for above three\nmonths together, and meeting with little or nothing compared to our\ngreat expectations; but I was very loth to part with the Red Sea at so\ncheap a rate, and pressed them to tarry a little longer, which at my\ninstance they did; but three days afterwards, to our great misfortune,\nunderstood that, by landing the Turkish merchants at Dofar, we had\nalarmed the coast as far as the Gulf of Persia, so that no vessel would\nstir that way, and consequently nothing was to be expected on that side.\nI was greatly mortified at this news, and could no longer withstand the\nimportunities of the men to return to Madagascar. However, as the wind\ncontinued still to blow at S.S.E. by S., we were obliged to stand away\ntowards the coast of Africa and the Cape Guardafui, the winds being more\nvariable under the shore than in the open sea.\nHere we chopped upon a booty which we did not look for, and which made\namends for all our waiting; for the very same hour that we made land we\nspied a large vessel sailing along the shore to the southward. The ship\nwas of Bengal, belonging to the Great Mogul's country, but had on board\na Dutch pilot, whose name, if I remember right, was Vandergest, and\nseveral European seamen, whereof three were English. She was in no\ncondition to resist us. The rest of her seamen were Indians of the\nMogul's subjects, some Malabars and some others. There were five Indian\nmerchants on board, and some Armenians. It seems they had been at Mocha\nwith spices, silks, diamonds, pearls, calico, &c., such goods as the\ncountry afforded, and had little on board now but money in pieces of\neight, which, by the way, was just what we wanted; and the three English\nseamen came along with us, and the Dutch pilot would have done so too,\nbut the two Armenian merchants entreated us not to take him, for that he\nbeing their pilot, there was none of the men knew how to guide the ship;\nso, at their request, we refused him; but we made them promise he should\nnot be used ill for being willing to go with us.\nWe got near 200,000 pieces of eight in this vessel; and, if they said\ntrue, there was a Jew of Goa, who intended to have embarked with them,\nwho had 200,000 pieces of eight with him, all his own; but his good\nfortune, springing out of his ill fortune, hindered him, or he fell sick\nat Mocha, and could not be ready to travel, which was the saving of his\nmoney.\nThere was none with me at the taking this prize but the sloop, for\nCaptain Wilmot's ship proving leaky, he went away for the rendezvous\nbefore us, and arrived there the middle of December; but not liking the\nport, he left a great cross on shore, with directions written on a\nplate of lead fixed to it, for us to come after him to the great bays at\nMangahelly, where he found a very good harbour; but we learned a piece\nof news here that kept us from him a great while, which the admiral took\noffence at; but we stopped his mouth with his share of 200,000 pieces\nof eight to him and his ship's crew. But the story which interrupted\nour coming to him was this. Between Mangahelly and another point, called\nCape St Sebastian, there came on shore in the night an European ship,\nand whether by stress of weather or want of a pilot I know not, but the\nship stranded and could not be got off.\nWe lay in the cove or harbour, where, as I have said, our rendezvous\nwas appointed, and had not yet been on shore, so we had not seen the\ndirections our admiral had left for us.\nOur friend William, of whom I have said nothing a great while, had a\ngreat mind one day to go on shore, and importuned me to let him have\na little troop to go with him, for safety, that they might see the\ncountry. I was mightily against it for many reasons; but particularly\nI told him he knew the natives were but savages, and they were very\ntreacherous, and I desired him that he would not go; and, had he gone\non much farther, I believe I should have downright refused him, and\ncommanded him not to go.\nBut, in order to persuade me to let him go, he told me he would give me\nan account of the reason why he was so importunate. He told me, the last\nnight he had a dream, which was so forcible, and made such an impression\nupon his mind, that he could not be quiet till he had made the proposal\nto me to go; and if I refused him, then he thought his dream was\nsignificant; and if not, then his dream was at an end.\nHis dream was, he said, that he went on shore with thirty men, of which\nthe cockswain, he said, was one, upon the island; and that they found a\nmine of gold, and enriched them all. But this was not the main thing, he\nsaid, but that the same morning he had dreamed so, the cockswain came\nto him just then, and told him that he dreamed he went on shore on the\nisland of Madagascar, and that some men came to him and told him they\nwould show him where he should get a prize which would make them all\nrich.\nThese two things put together began to weigh with me a little, though I\nwas never inclined to give any heed to dreams; but William's importunity\nturned me effectually, for I always put a great deal of stress upon his\njudgment; so that, in short, I gave them leave to go, but I charged them\nnot to go far off from the sea-coast; that, if they were forced down to\nthe seaside upon any occasion, we might perhaps see them, and fetch them\noff with our boats.\nThey went away early in the morning, one-and-thirty men of them in\nnumber, very well armed, and very stout fellows; they travelled all the\nday, and at night made us a signal that all was well, from the top of a\nhill, which we had agreed on, by making a great fire.\nNext day they marched down the hill on the other side, inclining towards\nthe seaside, as they had promised, and saw a very pleasant valley before\nthem, with a river in the middle of it, which, a little farther below\nthem, seemed to be big enough to bear small ships; they marched apace\ntowards this river, and were surprised with the noise of a piece going\noff, which, by the sound, could not be far off. They listened long, but\ncould hear no more; so they went on to the river-side, which was a very\nfine fresh stream, but widened apace, and they kept on by the banks of\nit, till, almost at once, it opened or widened into a good large creek\nor harbour, about five miles from the sea; and that which was still more\nsurprising, as they marched forward, they plainly saw in the mouth of\nthe harbour, or creek, the wreck of a ship.\nThe tide was up, as we call it, so that it did not appear very much\nabove the water, but, as they made downwards, they found it grow bigger\nand bigger; and the tide soon after ebbing out, they found it lay dry\nupon the sands, and appeared to be the wreck of a considerable vessel,\nlarger than could be expected in that country.\nAfter some time, William, taking out his glass to look at it more\nnearly, was surprised with hearing a musket-shot whistle by him, and\nimmediately after that he heard the gun, and saw the smoke from the\nother side; upon which our men immediately fired three muskets, to\ndiscover, if possible, what or who they were. Upon the noise of these\nguns, abundance of men came running down to the shore from among the\ntrees; and our men could easily perceive that they were Europeans,\nthough they knew not of what nation; however, our men hallooed to them\nas loud as they could, and by-and-by they got a long pole, and set it\nup, and hung a white shirt upon it for a flag of truce. They on the\nother side saw it, by the help of their glasses, too, and quickly after\nour men see a boat launch off from the shore, as they thought, but it\nwas from another creek, it seems; and immediately they came rowing over\nthe creek to our men, carrying also a white flag as a token of truce.\nIt is not easy to describe the surprise, or joy and satisfaction, that\nappeared on both sides, to see not only white men, but Englishmen, in\na place so remote; but what then must it be when they came to know one\nanother, and to find that they were not only countrymen but comrades,\nand that this was the very ship that Captain Wilmot, our admiral,\ncommanded, and whose company we had lost in the storm at Tobago, after\nmaking an agreement to rendezvous at Madagascar!\nThey had, it seems, got intelligence of us when they came to the south\npart of the island, and had been a-roving as far as the Gulf of Bengal,\nwhen they met Captain Avery, with whom they joined, took several rich\nprizes, and, amongst the rest, one ship with the Great Mogul's daughter,\nand an immense treasure in money and jewels; and from thence they came\nabout the coast of Coromandel, and afterwards that of Malabar, into the\nGulf of Persia, where they also took some prize, and then designed for\nthe south part of Madagascar; but the winds blowing hard at S.E. and\nS.E. by E., they came to the northward of the isle, and being after that\nseparated by a furious tempest from the N.W., they were forced into the\nmouth of that creek, where they lost their ship. And they told us, also,\nthat they heard that Captain Avery himself had lost his ship also not\nfar off.\nWhen they had thus acquainted one another with their fortunes, the poor\noverjoyed men were in haste to go back to communicate their joy to their\ncomrades; and, leaving some of their men with ours, the rest went back,\nand William was so earnest to see them that he and two more went back\nwith them, and there he came to their little camp where they lived.\nThere were about a hundred and sixty men of them in all; they had got\ntheir guns on shore, and some ammunition, but a good deal of their\npowder was spoiled; however, they had raised a fair platform, and\nmounted twelve pieces of cannon upon it, which was a sufficient defence\nto them on that side of the sea; and just at the end of the platform\nthey had made a launch and a little yard, and were all hard at work,\nbuilding another little ship, as I may call it, to go to sea in; but\nthey put a stop to this work upon the news they had of our being come\nin.\nWhen our men went into their huts, it was surprising, indeed, to see the\nvast stock of wealth they had got, in gold and silver and jewels, which,\nhowever, they told us was a trifle to what Captain Avery had, wherever\nhe was gone.\nIt was five days we had waited for our men, and no news of them; and\nindeed I gave them over for lost, but was surprised, after five days'\nwaiting, to see a ship's boat come rowing towards us along shore. What\nto make of it I could not tell, but was at least better satisfied when\nour men told me they heard them halloo and saw them wave their caps to\nus.\nIn a little time they came quite up to us; and I saw friend William\nstand up in the boat and make signs to us; so they came on board; but\nwhen I saw there were but fifteen of our one-and-thirty men, I asked him\nwhat had become of their fellows. \"Oh,\" says William, \"they are all very\nwell; and my dream is fully made good, and the cockswain's too.\"\nThis made me very impatient to know how the case stood; so he told us\nthe whole story, which indeed surprised us all. The next day we weighed,\nand stood away southerly to join Captain Wilmot and ship at Mangahelly,\nwhere we found him, as I said, a little chagrined at our stay; but we\npacified him afterwards with telling him the history of William's dream,\nand the consequence of it.\nIn the meantime the camp of our comrades was so near Mangahelly, that\nour admiral and I, friend William, and some of the men, resolved to take\nthe sloop and go and see them, and fetch them all, and their goods,\nbag and baggage, on board our ship, which accordingly we did, and found\ntheir camp, their fortifications, the battery of guns they had erected,\ntheir treasure, and all the men, just as William had related it; so,\nafter some stay, we took all the men into the sloop, and brought them\naway with us.\nIt was some time before we knew what was become of Captain Avery; but\nafter about a month, by the direction of the men who had lost their\nship, we sent the sloop to cruise along the shore, to find out, if\npossible, where they were; and in about a week's cruise our men found\nthem, and particularly that they had lost their ship, as well as our men\nhad lost theirs, and that they were every way in as bad a condition as\nours.\nIt was about ten days before the sloop returned, and Captain Avery with\nthem; and this was the whole force that, as I remember, Captain Avery\never had with him; for now we joined all our companies together, and it\nstood thus:--We had two ships and a sloop, in which we had 320 men, but\nmuch too few to man them as they ought to be, the great Portuguese ship\nrequiring of herself near 400 men to man her completely. As for\nour lost, but now found comrade, her complement of men was 180, or\nthereabouts; and Captain Avery had about 300 men with him, whereof he\nhad ten carpenters with him, most of which were taken aboard the\nprize they had taken; so that, in a word, all the force Avery had at\nMadagascar, in the year 1699, or thereabouts, amounted to our three\nships, for his own was lost, as you have heard; and never had any more\nthan about 1200 men in all.\nIt was about a month after this that all our crews got together, and\nas Avery was unshipped, we all agreed to bring our own company into the\nPortuguese man-of-war and the sloop, and give Captain Avery the Spanish\nfrigate, with all the tackles and furniture, guns and ammunition, for\nhis crew by themselves; for which they, being full of wealth, agreed to\ngive us 40,000 pieces of eight.\nIt was next considered what course we should take. Captain Avery, to\ngive him his due, proposed our building a little city here, establishing\nourselves on shore, with a good fortification and works proper to defend\nourselves; and that, as we had wealth enough, and could increase it to\nwhat degree we pleased, we should content ourselves to retire here,\nand bid defiance to the world. But I soon convinced him that this place\nwould be no security to us, if we pretended to carry on our cruising\ntrade; for that then all the nations of Europe, and indeed of that part\nof the world, would be engaged to root us out; but if we resolved to\nlive there as in retirement, and plant in the country as private men,\nand give over our trade of pirating, then, indeed, we might plant and\nsettle ourselves where we pleased. But then, I told him, the best way\nwould be to treat with the natives, and buy a tract of land of them\nfarther up the country, seated upon some navigable river, where boats\nmight go up and down for pleasure, but not ships to endanger us; that\nthus planting the high ground with cattle, such as cows and goats, of\nwhich the country also was full, to be sure we might live here as well\nas any men in the world; and I owned to him I thought it was a good\nretreat for those that were willing to leave off and lay down, and yet\ndid not care to venture home and be hanged; that is to say, to run the\nrisk of it.\nCaptain Avery, however he made no positive discovery of his intentions,\nseemed to me to decline my notion of going up into the country to plant;\non the contrary, it was apparent he was of Captain Wilmot's opinion,\nthat they might maintain themselves on shore, and yet carry on their\ncruising trade too; and upon this they resolved. But, as I afterwards\nunderstood, about fifty of their men went up the country, and settled\nthemselves in an inland place as a colony. Whether they are there still\nor not, I cannot tell, or how many of them are left alive; but it is my\nopinion they are there still, and that they are considerably increased,\nfor, as I hear, they have got some women among them, though not many;\nfor it seems five Dutch women and three or four little girls were taken\nby them in a Dutch ship, which they afterwards took going to Mocha; and\nthree of those women, marrying some of these men, went with them to live\nin their new plantation. But of this I speak only by hearsay.\nAs we lay here some time, I found our people mightily divided in their\nnotions; some were for going this way, and some that, till at last I\nbegan to foresee they would part company, and perhaps we should not have\nmen enough to keep together to man the great ship; so I took Captain\nWilmot aside, and began to talk to him about it, but soon perceived that\nhe inclined himself to stay at Madagascar, and having got a vast wealth\nfor his own share, had secret designs of getting home some way or other.\nI argued the impossibility of it, and the hazard he would run, either\nof falling into the hands of thieves and murderers in the Red Sea,\nwho would never let such a treasure as his pass their hands, or of\nhis falling into the hands of the English, Dutch, or French, who would\ncertainly hang him for a pirate. I gave him an account of the voyage\nI had made from this very place to the continent of Africa, and what a\njourney it was to travel on foot.\nIn short, nothing could persuade him, but he would go into the Red Sea\nwith the sloop, and where the children of Israel passed through the sea\ndry-shod, and, landing there, would travel to Grand Cairo by land,\nwhich is not above eighty miles, and from thence he said he could ship\nhimself, by the way of Alexandria, to any part of the world.\nI represented the hazard, and indeed the impossibility, of his passing\nby Mocha and Jiddah without being attacked, if he offered it by force,\nor plundered, if he went to get leave; and explained the reasons of it\nso much and so effectually, that, though at last he would not hearken to\nit himself, none of his men would go with him. They told him they would\ngo anywhere with him to serve him, but that this was running himself and\nthem into certain destruction, without any possibility of avoiding it,\nor probability of answering his end. The captain took what I said to\nhim quite wrong, and pretended to resent it, and gave me some buccaneer\nwords upon it; but I gave him no return to it but this: that I advised\nhim for his advantage; that if he did not understand it so, it was his\nfault, not mine; that I did not forbid him to go, nor had I offered\nto persuade any of the men not to go with him, though it was to their\napparent destruction.\nHowever, warm heads are not easily cooled. The captain was so eager that\nhe quitted our company, and, with most part of his crew, went over to\nCaptain Avery, and sorted with his people, taking all the treasure with\nhim, which, by the way, was not very fair in him, we having agreed to\nshare all our gains, whether more or less, whether absent or present.\nOur men muttered a little at it, but I pacified them as well as I could,\nand told them it was easy for us to get as much, if we minded our hits;\nand Captain Wilmot had set us a very good example; for, by the same\nrule, the agreement of any further sharing of profits with them was at\nan end. I took this occasion to put into their heads some part of my\nfurther designs, which were, to range over the eastern sea, and see if\nwe could not make ourselves as rich as Mr Avery, who, it was true, had\ngotten a prodigious deal of money, though not one-half of what was said\nof it in Europe.\nOur men were so pleased with my forward, enterprising temper, that\nthey assured me that they would go with me, one and all, over the whole\nglobe, wherever I would carry them; and as for Captain Wilmot, they\nwould have nothing more to do with him. This came to his ears, and put\nhim into a great rage, so that he threatened, if I came on shore, he\nwould cut my throat.\nI had information of it privately, but took no notice of it at all; only\nI took care not to go unprovided for him, and seldom walked about but in\nvery good company. However, at last Captain Wilmot and I met, and talked\nover the matter very seriously, and I offered him the sloop to go where\nhe pleased, or, if he was not satisfied with that, I offered to take\nthe sloop and leave him the great ship; but he declined both, and only\ndesired that I would leave him six carpenters, which I had in our ship\nmore than I had need of, to help his men to finish the sloop that was\nbegun before we came thither, by the men that lost their ship. This I\nconsented readily to, and lent him several other hands that were useful\nto them; and in a little time they built a stout brigantine, able to\ncarry fourteen guns and 200 men.\nWhat measures they took, and how Captain Avery managed afterwards, is\ntoo long a story to meddle with here; nor is it any of my business,\nhaving my own story still upon my hands.\nWe lay here, about these several simple disputes, almost five months,\nwhen, about the latter end of March, I set sail with the great ship,\nhaving in her forty-four guns and 400 men, and the sloop, carrying\neighty men. We did not steer to the Malabar coast, and so to the Gulf of\nPersia, as was first intended, the east monsoons blowing yet too strong,\nbut we kept more under the African coast, where we had the wind variable\ntill we passed the line, and made the Cape Bassa, in the latitude of\nfour degrees ten minutes; from thence, the monsoons beginning to change\nto the N.E. and N.N.E., we led it away, with the wind large, to the\nMaldives, a famous ledge of islands, well known by all the sailors who\nhave gone into those parts of the world; and, leaving these islands a\nlittle to the south, we made Cape Comorin, the southernmost land of the\ncoast of Malabar, and went round the isle of Ceylon. Here we lay by a\nwhile to wait for purchase; and here we saw three large English East\nIndia ships going from Bengal, or from Fort St George, homeward for\nEngland, or rather for Bombay and Surat, till the trade set in.\nWe brought to, and hoisting an English ancient and pendant, lay by for\nthem, as if we intended to attack them. They could not tell what to make\nof us a good while, though they saw our colours; and I believe at first\nthey thought us to be French; but as they came nearer to us, we let\nthem soon see what we were, for we hoisted a black flag, with two cross\ndaggers in it, on our main-top-mast head, which let them see what they\nwere to expect.\nWe soon found the effects of this; for at first they spread their\nancients, and made up to us in a line, as if they would fight us, having\nthe wind off shore, fair enough to have brought them on board us; but\nwhen they saw what force we were of, and found we were cruisers of\nanother kind, they stood away from us again, with all the sail they\ncould make. If they had come up, we should have given them an unexpected\nwelcome, but as it was, we had no mind to follow them; so we let them\ngo, for the same reasons which I mentioned before.\nBut though we let them pass, we did not design to let others go at so\neasy a price. It was but the next morning that we saw a sail standing\nround Cape Comorin, and steering, as we thought, the same course with\nus. We knew not at first what to do with her, because she had the shore\non her larboard quarter, and if we offered to chase her, she might put\ninto any port or creek, and escape us; but, to prevent this, we sent the\nsloop to get in between her and the land. As soon as she saw that, she\nhauled in to keep the land aboard, and when the sloop stood towards her\nshe made right ashore, with all the canvas she could spread.\nThe sloop, however, came up with her and engaged her, and found she was\na vessel of ten guns, Portuguese built, but in the Dutch traders'\nhands, and manned by Dutchmen, who were bound from the Gulf of Persia\nto Batavia, to fetch spices and other goods from thence. The sloop's men\ntook her, and had the rummaging of her before we came up. She had in her\nsome European goods, and a good round sum of money, and some pearl; so\nthat, though we did not go to the gulf for the pearl, the pearl came to\nus out of the gulf, and we had our share of it. This was a rich ship,\nand the goods were of very considerable value, besides the money and the\npearl.\nWe had a long consultation here what we should do with the men, for to\ngive them the ship, and let them pursue their voyage to Java, would be\nto alarm the Dutch factory there, who are by far the strongest in the\nIndies, and to make our passage that way impracticable; whereas we\nresolved to visit that part of the world in our way, but were not\nwilling to pass the great Bay of Bengal, where we hoped for a great deal\nof purchase; and therefore it behoved us not to be waylaid before we\ncame there, because they knew we must pass by the Straits of Malacca, or\nthose of Sunda; and either way it was very easy to prevent us.\nWhile we were consulting this in the great cabin, the men had had the\nsame debate before the mast; and it seems the majority there were for\npickling up the poor Dutchmen among the herrings; in a word, they were\nfor throwing them all into the sea. Poor William, the Quaker, was in\ngreat concern about this, and comes directly to me to talk about it.\n\"Hark thee,\" says William, \"what wilt thou do with these Dutchmen that\nthou hast on board? Thou wilt not let them go, I suppose,\" says he.\n\"Why,\" says I, \"William, would you advise me to let them go?\" \"No,\" says\nWilliam, \"I cannot say it is fit for thee to let them go; that is to\nsay, to go on with their voyage to Batavia, because it is not for thy\nturn that the Dutch at Batavia should have any knowledge of thy being in\nthese seas.\" \"Well, then,\" says I to him, \"I know no remedy but to throw\nthem overboard. You know, William,\" says I, \"a Dutchman swims like a\nfish; and all our people here are of the same opinion as well as I.\" At\nthe same time I resolved it should not be done, but wanted to hear what\nWilliam would say. He gravely replied, \"If all the men in the ship\nwere of that mind, I will never believe that thou wilt be of that mind\nthyself, for I have heard thee protest against cruelty in all other\ncases.\" \"Well, William,\" says I, \"that is true; but what then shall we\ndo with them?\" \"Why,\" says William, \"is there no way but to murder them?\nI am persuaded thou canst not be in earnest.\" \"No, indeed, William,\"\nsays I, \"I am not in earnest; but they shall not go to Java, no, nor to\nCeylon, that is certain.\" \"But,\" says William, \"the men have done thee\nno injury at all; thou hast taken a great treasure from them; what canst\nthou pretend to hurt them for?\" \"Nay, William,\" says I, \"do not talk of\nthat; I have pretence enough, if that be all; my pretence is, to\nprevent doing me hurt, and that is as necessary a piece of the law of\nself-preservation as any you can name; but the main thing is, I know not\nwhat to do with them, to prevent their prating.\"\nWhile William and I were talking, the poor Dutchmen were openly\ncondemned to die, as it may be called, by the whole ship's company; and\nso warm were the men upon it, that they grew very clamorous; and when\nthey heard that William was against it, some of them swore they should\ndie, and if William opposed it, he should drown along with them.\nBut, as I was resolved to put an end to their cruel project, so I found\nit was time to take upon me a little, or the bloody humour might grow\ntoo strong; so I called the Dutchmen up, and talked a little with them.\nFirst, I asked them if they were willing to go with us. Two of them\noffered it presently; but the rest, which were fourteen, declined it.\n\"Well, then,\" said I, \"where would you go?\" They desired they should\ngo to Ceylon. No, I told them I could not allow them to go to any Dutch\nfactory, and told them very plainly the reasons of it, which they could\nnot deny to be just. I let them know also the cruel, bloody measures\nof our men, but that I had resolved to save them, if possible; and\ntherefore I told them I would set them on shore at some English factory\nin the Bay of Bengal, or put them on board any English ship I met, after\nI was past the Straits of Sunda or of Malacca, but not before; for, as\nto my coming back again, I told them I would run the venture of their\nDutch power from Batavia, but I would not have the news come there\nbefore me, because it would make all their merchant-ships lay up, and\nkeep out of our way.\nIt came next into our consideration what we should do with their ship;\nbut this was not long resolving; for there were but two ways, either to\nset her on fire, or to run her on shore, and we chose the last. So we\nset her foresail with the tack at the cat-head, and lashed her helm a\nlittle to starboard, to answer her head-sail, and so set her agoing,\nwith neither cat or dog in her; and it was not above two hours before\nwe saw her run right ashore upon the coast, a little beyond the\nCape Comorin; and away we went round about Ceylon, for the coast of\nCoromandel.\nWe sailed along there, not in sight of the shore only, but so near as to\nsee the ships in the road at Fort St David, Fort St George, and at\nthe other factories along that shore, as well as along the coast of\nGolconda, carrying our English ancient when we came near the Dutch\nfactories, and Dutch colours when we passed by the English factories.\nWe met with little purchase upon this coast, except two small vessels\nof Golconda, bound across the bay with bales of calicoes and muslins and\nwrought silks, and fifteen bales of romals, from the bottom of the bay,\nwhich were going, on whose account we knew not, to Acheen, and to other\nports on the coast of Malacca. We did not inquire to what place in\nparticular; but we let the vessels go, having none but Indians on board.\nIn the bottom of the bay we met with a great junk belonging to the\nMogul's court, with a great many people, passengers as we supposed them\nto be: it seems they were bound for the river Hooghly or Ganges, and\ncame from Sumatra. This was a prize worth taking indeed; and we got\nso much gold in her, besides other goods which we did not meddle\nwith--pepper in particular--that it had like to have put an end to our\ncruise; for almost all my men said we were rich enough, and desired to\ngo back again to Madagascar. But I had other things in my head still,\nand when I came to talk with them, and set friend William to talk with\nthem, we put such further golden hopes into their heads that we soon\nprevailed with them to let us go on.\nMy next design was to leave all the dangerous straits of Malacca,\nSingapore, and Sunda, where we could expect no great booty, but what we\nmight light on in European ships, which we must fight for; and though we\nwere able to fight, and wanted no courage, even to desperation, yet we\nwere rich too, and resolved to be richer, and took this for our maxim,\nthat while we were sure the wealth we sought was to be had without\nfighting, we had no occasion to put ourselves to the necessity of\nfighting for that which would come upon easy terms.\nWe left, therefore, the Bay of Bengal, and coming to the coast of\nSumatra, we put in at a small port, where there was a town, inhabited\nonly by Malays; and here we took in fresh water, and a large quantity of\ngood pork, pickled up and well salted, notwithstanding the heat of the\nclimate, being in the very middle of the torrid zone, viz., in three\ndegrees fifteen minutes north latitude. We also took on board both our\nvessels forty hogs alive, which served us for fresh provisions, having\nabundance of food for them, such as the country produced, such as guams,\npotatoes, and a sort of coarse rice, good for nothing else but to feed\nthe swine. We killed one of these hogs every day, and found them to be\nexcellent meat. We took in also a monstrous quantity of ducks, and cocks\nand hens, the same kind as we have in England, which we kept for change\nof provisions; and if I remember right, we had no less than two thousand\nof them; so that at first we were pestered with them very much, but\nwe soon lessened them by boiling, roasting, stewing, &c., for we never\nwanted while we had them.\nMy long-projected design now lay open to me, which was to fall in\namongst the Dutch Spice Islands, and see what mischief I could do there.\nAccordingly, we put out to sea the 12th of August, and passing the line\non the 17th, we stood away due south, leaving the Straits of Sunda and\nthe isle of Java on the east, till we came to the latitude of eleven\ndegrees twenty minutes, when we steered east and E.N.E., having easy\ngales from the W.S.W. till we came among the Moluccas, or Spice Islands.\nWe passed those seas with less difficulty than in other places, the\nwinds to the south of Java being more variable, and the weather good,\nthough sometimes we met with squally weather and short storms; but when\nwe came in among the Spice Islands themselves we had a share of the\nmonsoons, or trade-winds, and made use of them accordingly.\nThe infinite number of islands which lie in these seas embarrassed\nus strangely, and it was with great difficulty that we worked our way\nthrough them; then we steered for the north side of the Philippines,\nwhen we had a double chance for purchase, viz., either to meet with\nthe Spanish ships from Acapulco, on the coast of New Spain, or we were\ncertain not to fail of finding some ships or junks of China, who, if\nthey came from China, would have a great quantity of goods of value on\nboard, as well as money; or if we took them going back, we should find\nthem laden with nutmegs and cloves from Banda and Ternate, or from some\nof the other islands.\nWe were right in our guesses here to a tittle, and we steered directly\nthrough a large outlet, which they call a strait, though it be fifteen\nmiles broad, and to an island they call Dammer, and from thence N.N.E.\nto Banda. Between these islands we met with a Dutch junk, or vessel,\ngoing to Amboyna: we took her without much trouble, and I had much ado\nto prevent our men murdering all the men, as soon as they heard them say\nthey belonged to Amboyna: the reasons I suppose any one will guess.\nWe took out of her about sixteen ton of nutmegs, some provisions, and\ntheir small-arms, for they had no great guns, and let the ship go: from\nthence we sailed directly to the Banda Island, or Islands, where we\nwere sure to get more nutmegs if we thought fit. For my part, I would\nwillingly have got more nutmegs, though I had paid for them, but our\npeople abhorred paying for anything; so we got about twelve ton more at\nseveral times, most of them from shore, and only a few in a small boat\nof the natives, which was going to Gilolo. We would have traded openly,\nbut the Dutch, who have made themselves masters of all those islands,\nforbade the people dealing with us, or any strangers whatever, and kept\nthem so in awe that they durst not do it; so we could indeed have made\nnothing of it if we had stayed longer, and therefore resolved to be gone\nfor Ternate, and see if we could make up our loading with cloves.\nAccordingly we stood away north, but found ourselves so entangled among\ninnumerable islands, and without any pilot that understood the channel\nand races between them, that we were obliged to give it over, and\nresolved to go back again to Banda, and see what we could get among the\nother islands thereabouts.\nThe first adventure we made here had like to have been fatal to us all,\nfor the sloop, being ahead, made the signal to us for seeing a sail, and\nafterwards another, and a third, by which we understood she saw three\nsail; whereupon we made more sail to come up with her, but on a sudden\nwere gotten among some rocks, falling foul upon them in such a manner\nas frighted us all very heartily; for having, it seems, but just water\nenough, as it were to an inch, our rudder struck upon the top of a rock,\nwhich gave us a terrible shock, and split a great piece off the rudder,\nand indeed disabled it so that our ship would not steer at all, at least\nnot so as to be depended upon; and we were glad to hand all our sails,\nexcept our fore-sail and main-topsail, and with them we stood away to\nthe east, to see if we could find any creek or harbour where we might\nlay the ship on shore, and repair our rudder; besides, we found the ship\nherself had received some damage, for she had some little leak near her\nstern-post, but a great way under water.\nBy this mischance we lost the advantages, whatever they were, of the\nthree sail of ships, which we afterwards came to hear were small Dutch\nships from Batavia, going to Banda and Amboyna, to load spice, and, no\ndoubt, had a good quantity of money on board.\nUpon the disaster I have been speaking of you may very well suppose that\nwe came to an anchor as soon as we could, which was upon a small island\nnot far from Banda, where, though the Dutch keep no factory, yet they\ncome at the season to buy nutmegs and mace. We stayed there thirteen\ndays; but there being no place where we could lay the ship on shore, we\nsent the sloop to cruise among the islands, to look out for a place fit\nfor us. In the meantime we got very good water here, some provisions,\nroots, and fruits, and a good quantity of nutmegs and mace, which we\nfound ways to trade with the natives for, without the knowledge of their\nmasters, the Dutch.\nAt length our sloop returned; having found another island where\nthere was a very good harbour, we ran in, and came to an anchor. We\nimmediately unbent all our sails, sent them ashore upon the island, and\nset up seven or eight tents with them; then we unrigged our top-masts,\nand cut them down, hoisted all our guns out, our provisions and loading,\nand put them ashore in the tents. With the guns we made two small\nbatteries, for fear of a surprise, and kept a look-out upon the hill.\nWhen we were all ready, we laid the ship aground upon a hard sand, the\nupper end of the harbour, and shored her up on each side. At low water\nshe lay almost dry, so we mended her bottom, and stopped the leak, which\nwas occasioned by straining some of the rudder irons with the shock\nwhich the ship had against the rock.\nHaving done this, we also took occasion to clean her bottom, which,\nhaving been at sea so long, was very foul. The sloop washed and tallowed\nalso, but was ready before us, and cruised eight or ten days among the\nislands, but met with no purchase; so that we began to be tired of the\nplace, having little to divert us but the most furious claps of thunder\nthat ever were heard or read of in the world.\nWe were in hopes to have met with some purchase here among the Chinese,\nwho, we had been told, came to Ternate to trade for cloves, and to the\nBanda Isles for nutmegs; and we would have been very glad to have loaded\nour galleon, or great ship, with these two sorts of spice, and have\nthought it a glorious voyage; but we found nothing stirring more than\nwhat I have said, except Dutchmen, who, by what means we could not\nimagine, had either a jealousy of us or intelligence of us, and kept\nthemselves close in their ports.\nI was once resolved to have made a descent at the island of Dumas, the\nplace most famous for the best nutmegs; but friend William, who was\nalways for doing our business without fighting, dissuaded me from it,\nand gave such reasons for it that we could not resist; particularly\nthe great heats of the season, and of the place, for we were now in the\nlatitude of just half a degree south. But while we were disputing this\npoint we were soon determined by the following accident:--We had a\nstrong gale of wind at S.W. by W., and the ship had fresh way, but a\ngreat sea rolling in upon us from the N.E., which we afterwards found\nwas the pouring in of the great ocean east of New Guinea. However, as I\nsaid, we stood away large, and made fresh way, when, on the sudden,\nfrom a dark cloud which hovered over our heads, came a flash, or rather\nblast, of lightning, which was so terrible, and quivered so long among\nus, that not I only, but all our men, thought the ship was on fire. The\nheat of the flash, or fire, was so sensibly felt in our faces, that some\nof our men had blisters raised by it on their skins, not immediately,\nperhaps, by the heat, but by the poisonous or noxious particles which\nmixed themselves with the matter inflamed. But this was not all; the\nshock of the air, which the fracture in the clouds made, was such\nthat our ship shook as when a broadside is fired; and her motion being\nchecked, as it were at once, by a repulse superior to the force that\ngave her way before, the sails all flew back in a moment, and the ship\nlay, as we might truly say, thunder-struck. As the blast from the cloud\nwas so very near us, it was but a few moments after the flash that the\nterriblest clap of thunder followed that was ever heard by mortals. I\nfirmly believe a blast of a hundred thousand barrels of gunpowder could\nnot have been greater to our hearing; nay, indeed, to some of our men it\ntook away their hearing.\nIt is not possible for me to describe, or any one to conceive, the\nterror of that minute. Our men were in such a consternation, that not a\nman on board the ship had presence of mind to apply to the proper duty\nof a sailor, except friend William; and had he not run very nimbly,\nand with a composure that I am sure I was not master of, to let go the\nfore-sheet, set in the weather-brace of the fore-yard, and haul down\nthe top-sails, we had certainly brought all our masts by the board, and\nperhaps have been overwhelmed in the sea.\nAs for myself, I must confess my eyes were open to my danger, though not\nthe least to anything of application for remedy. I was all amazement and\nconfusion, and this was the first time that I can say I began to feel\nthe effects of that horror which I know since much more of, upon the\njust reflection on my former life. I thought myself doomed by Heaven to\nsink that moment into eternal destruction; and with this peculiar mark\nof terror, viz., that the vengeance was not executed in the ordinary\nway of human justice, but that God had taken me into His immediate\ndisposing, and had resolved to be the executer of His own vengeance.\nLet them alone describe the confusion I was in who know what was the\ncase of [John] Child, of Shadwell, or Francis Spira. It is impossible\nto describe it. My soul was all amazement and surprise. I thought myself\njust sinking into eternity, owning the divine justice of my punishment,\nbut not at all feeling any of the moving, softening tokens of a sincere\npenitent; afflicted at the punishment, but not at the crime; alarmed at\nthe vengeance, but not terrified at the guilt; having the same gust to\nthe crime, though terrified to the last degree at the thought of the\npunishment, which I concluded I was just now going to receive.\nBut perhaps many that read this will be sensible of the thunder and\nlightning, that may think nothing of the rest, or rather may make a jest\nof it all; so I say no more of it at this time, but proceed to the story\nof the voyage. When the amazement was over, and the men began to come\nto themselves, they fell a-calling for one another, every one for his\nfriend, or for those he had most respect for; and it was a singular\nsatisfaction to find that nobody was hurt. The next thing was to\ninquire if the ship had received no damage, when the boatswain, stepping\nforward, found that part of the head was gone, but not so as to\nendanger the bowsprit; so we hoisted our top-sails again, hauled aft the\nfore-sheet, braced the yards, and went our course as before. Nor can I\ndeny but that we were all somewhat like the ship; our first astonishment\nbeing a little over, and that we found the ship swim again, we were soon\nthe same irreligious, hardened crew that we were before, and I among the\nrest.\nAs we now steered, our course lay N.N.E., and we passed thus, with a\nfair wind, through the strait or channel between the island of Gilolo\nand the land of Nova Guinea, when we were soon in the open sea or ocean,\non the south-east of the Philippines, being the great Pacific, or South\nSea, where it may be said to join itself with the vast Indian Ocean.\nAs we passed into these seas, steering due north, so we soon crossed the\nline to the north side, and so sailed on towards Mindanao and Manilla,\nthe chief of the Philippine Islands, without meeting with any purchase\ntill we came to the northward of Manilla, and then our trade began;\nfor here we took three Japanese vessels, though at some distance from\nManilla. Two of them had made their market, and were going home with\nnutmegs, cinnamon, cloves, &c., besides all sorts of European goods,\nbrought with the Spanish ships from Acapulco. They had together\neight-and-thirty ton of cloves, and five or six ton of nutmegs, and as\nmuch cinnamon. We took the spice, but meddled with very little of the\nEuropean goods, they being, as we thought, not worth our while; but we\nwere very sorry for it soon after, and therefore grew wiser upon the\nnext occasion.\nThe third Japanese was the best prize to us; for he came with money, and\na great deal of gold uncoined, to buy such goods as we mentioned above.\nWe eased him of his gold, and did him no other harm, and having no\nintention to stay long here, we stood away for China.\nWe were at sea above two months upon this voyage, beating it up against\nthe wind, which blew steadily from the N.E., and within a point or two\none way or other; and this indeed was the reason why we met with the\nmore prizes in our voyage.\nWe were just gotten clear of the Philippines, and we purposed to go to\nthe isle of Formosa, but the wind blew so fresh at N.N.E. that there was\nno making anything of it, and we were forced to put back to Laconia, the\nmost northerly of those islands. We rode here very secure, and shifted\nour situation, not in view of any danger, for there was none, but for a\nbetter supply of provisions, which we found the people very willing to\nsupply us with.\nThere lay, while we remained here, three very great galleons, or Spanish\nships, from the south seas; whether newly come in or ready to sail we\ncould not understand at first; but as we found the China traders began\nto load and set forward to the north, we concluded the Spanish ships had\nnewly unloaded their cargo, and these had been buying; so we doubted\nnot but we should meet with purchase in the rest of the voyage, neither,\nindeed, could we well miss of it.\nWe stayed here till the beginning of May, when we were told the Chinese\ntraders would set forward; for the northern monsoons end about the\nlatter end of March or beginning of April; so that they are sure of fair\nwinds home. Accordingly we hired some of the country boats, which\nare very swift sailers, to go and bring us word how affairs stood at\nManilla, and when the China junks would sail; and by this intelligence\nwe ordered our matters so well, that three days after we set sail we\nfell in with no less than eleven of them; out of which, however, having\nby misfortune of discovering ourselves, taken but three, we contented\nourselves and pursued our voyage to Formosa. In these three vessels we\ntook, in short, such a quantity of cloves, nutmegs, cinnamon, and mace,\nbesides silver, that our men began to be of my opinion,--that we were\nrich enough; and, in short, we had nothing to do now but to consider by\nwhat methods to secure the immense treasure we had got.\nI was secretly glad to hear that they were of this opinion, for I had\nlong before resolved, if it were possible, to persuade them to think of\nreturning, having fully perfected my first projected design of rummaging\namong the Spice Islands; and all those prizes, which were exceeding rich\nat Manilla, was quite beyond my design.\nBut now I had heard what the men said, and how they thought we were very\nwell, I let them know by friend William, that I intended only to sail\nto the island of Formosa, where I should find opportunity to turn our\nspices and Europe goods into ready money, and that then I would tack\nabout for the south, the northern monsoons being perhaps by that time\nalso ready to set in. They all approved of my design, and willingly\nwent forward; because, besides the winds, which would not permit until\nOctober to go to the south, I say, besides this, we were now a very deep\nship, having near two hundred ton of goods on board, and particularly,\nsome very valuable; the sloop also had a proportion.\nWith this resolution we went on cheerfully, when, within about twelve\ndays' sail more, we made the island Formosa, at a great distance, but\nwere ourselves shot beyond the southernmost part of the island, being to\nleeward, and almost upon the coast of China. Here we were a little at\na loss, for the English factories were not far off, and we might be\nobliged to fight some of their ships, if we met with them; which, though\nwe were able enough to do, yet we did not desire it on many accounts,\nand particularly because we did not think it was our business to have it\nknown who we were, or that such a kind of people as we had been seen on\nthe coast. However, we were obliged to keep to the northward, keeping as\ngood an offing as we could with respect to the coast of China.\nWe had not sailed long but we chased a small Chinese junk, and having\ntaken her, we found she was bound to the island of Formosa, having no\ngoods on board but some rice and a small quantity of tea; but she had\nthree Chinese merchants in her; and they told us that they were going to\nmeet a large vessel of their country, which came from Tonquin, and lay\nin a river in Formosa, whose name I forgot; and they were going to the\nPhilippine Islands, with silks, muslins, calicoes, and such goods as\nare the product of China, and some gold; that their business was to sell\ntheir cargo, and buy spices and European goods.\nThis suited very well with our purpose; so I resolved now that we would\nleave off being pirates and turn merchants; so we told them what goods\nwe had on board, and that if they would bring their supercargoes or\nmerchants on board, we would trade with them. They were very willing\nto trade with us, but terribly afraid to trust us; nor was it an unjust\nfear, for we had plundered them already of what they had. On the other\nhand, we were as diffident as they, and very uncertain what to do; but\nWilliam the Quaker put this matter into a way of barter. He came to me\nand told me he really thought the merchants looked like fair men, that\nmeant honestly. \"And besides,\" says William, \"it is their interest to be\nhonest now, for, as they know upon what terms we got the goods we are to\ntruck with them, so they know we can afford good pennyworths; and in the\nnext place, it saves them going the whole voyage, so that the southerly\nmonsoons yet holding, if they traded with us, they could immediately\nreturn with their cargo to China;\" though, by the way, we afterwards\nfound they intended for Japan; but that was all one, for by this means\nthey saved at least eight months' voyage. Upon these foundations,\nWilliam said he was satisfied we might trust them; \"for,\" says William,\n\"I would as soon trust a man whose interest binds him to be just to\nme as a man whose principle binds himself.\" Upon the whole, William\nproposed that two of the merchants should be left on board our ship as\nhostages, and that part of our goods should be loaded in their vessel,\nand let the third go with it into the port where their ship lay; and\nwhen he had delivered the spices, he should bring back such things as it\nwas agreed should be exchanged. This was concluded on, and William the\nQuaker ventured to go along with them, which, upon my word, I should not\nhave cared to have done, nor was I willing that he should, but he went\nstill upon the notion that it was their interest to treat him friendly.\nIn the meantime, we came to an anchor under a little island in the\nlatitude of 23 degrees 28 minutes, being just under the northern tropic,\nand about twenty leagues from the island. Here we lay thirteen days, and\nbegan to be very uneasy for my friend William, for they had promised\nto be back again in four days, which they might very easily have done.\nHowever, at the end of thirteen days, we saw three sail coming directly\nto us, which a little surprised us all at first, not knowing what might\nbe the case; and we began to put ourselves in a posture of defence; but\nas they came nearer us, we were soon satisfied, for the first vessel was\nthat which William went in, who carried a flag of truce; and in a few\nhours they all came to an anchor, and William came on board us with a\nlittle boat, with the Chinese merchant in his company, and two other\nmerchants, who seemed to be a kind of brokers for the rest.\nHere he gave us an account how civilly he had been used; how they had\ntreated him with all imaginable frankness and openness; that they had\nnot only given him the full value of his spices and other goods which he\ncarried, in gold, by good weight, but had loaded the vessel again with\nsuch goods as he knew we were willing to trade for; and that afterwards\nthey had resolved to bring the great ship out of the harbour, to lie\nwhere we were, that so we might make what bargain we thought fit;\nonly William said he had promised, in our name, that we should use no\nviolence with them, nor detain any of the vessels after we had done\ntrading with them. I told him we would strive to outdo them in civility,\nand that we would make good every part of his agreement; in token\nwhereof, I caused a white flag likewise to be spread at the poop of our\ngreat ship, which was the signal agreed on.\nAs to the third vessel which came with them, it was a kind of bark of\nthe country, who, having intelligence of our design to traffic, came\noff to deal with us, bringing a great deal of gold and some provisions,\nwhich at that time we were very glad of.\nIn short, we traded upon the high seas with these men, and indeed we\nmade a very good market, and yet sold thieves' pennyworths too. We sold\nhere about sixty ton of spice, chiefly cloves and nutmegs, and above two\nhundred bales of European goods, such as linen and woollen manufactures.\nWe considered we should have occasion for some such things ourselves,\nand so we kept a good quantity of English stuffs, cloth, baize, &c., for\nourselves. I shall not take up any of the little room I have left here\nwith the further particulars of our trade; it is enough to mention,\nthat, except a parcel of tea, and twelve bales of fine China wrought\nsilks, we took nothing in exchange for our goods but gold; so that the\nsum we took here in that glittering commodity amounted to above fifty\nthousand ounces good weight.\nWhen we had finished our barter, we restored the hostages, and gave the\nthree merchants about the quantity of twelve hundredweight of nutmegs,\nand as many of cloves, with a handsome present of European linen and\nstuff for themselves, as a recompense for what we had taken from them;\nso we sent them away exceedingly well satisfied.\nHere it was that William gave me an account, that while he was on board\nthe Japanese vessel, he met with a kind of religious, or Japan priest,\nwho spoke some words of English to him; and, being very inquisitive to\nknow how he came to learn any of those words, he told him that there\nwas in his country thirteen Englishmen; he called them Englishmen\nvery articulately and distinctly, for he had conversed with them very\nfrequently and freely. He said that they were all that were left of\ntwo-and-thirty men, who came on shore on the north side of Japan, being\ndriven upon a great rock in a stormy night, where they lost their ship,\nand the rest of their men were drowned; that he had persuaded the king\nof his country to send boats off to the rock or island where the ship\nwas lost, to save the rest of the men, and to bring them on shore, which\nwas done, and they were used very kindly, and had houses built for\nthem, and land given them to plant for provision; and that they lived by\nthemselves.\nHe said he went frequently among them, to persuade them to worship their\ngod (an idol, I suppose, of their own making), which, he said, they\nungratefully refused; and that therefore the king had once or twice\nordered them all to be put to death; but that, as he said, he had\nprevailed upon the king to spare them, and let them live their own\nway, as long as they were quiet and peaceable, and did not go about to\nwithdraw others from the worship of the country.\nI asked William why he did not inquire from whence they came. \"I did,\"\nsaid William; \"for how could I but think it strange,\" said he, \"to hear\nhim talk of Englishmen on the north side of Japan?\" \"Well,\" said I,\n\"what account did he give of it?\" \"An account,\" said William, \"that will\nsurprise thee, and all the world after thee, that shall hear of it,\nand which makes me wish thou wouldst go up to Japan and find them\nout.\" \"What do you mean?\" said I. \"Whence could they come?\" \"Why,\" says\nWilliam, \"he pulled out a little book, and in it a piece of paper, where\nit was written, in an Englishman's hand, and in plain English words,\nthus; and,\" says William, \"I read it myself:--'We came from Greenland,\nand from the North Pole.'\" This, indeed, was amazing to us all, and more\nso to those seamen among us who knew anything of the infinite attempts\nwhich had been made from Europe, as well by the English as the Dutch,\nto discover a passage that way into those parts of the world; and as\nWilliam pressed as earnestly to go on to the north to rescue those poor\nmen, so the ship's company began to incline to it; and, in a word, we\nall came to this, that we would stand in to the shore of Formosa, to\nfind this priest again, and have a further account of it all from him.\nAccordingly, the sloop went over; but when they came there, the vessels\nwere very unhappily sailed, and this put an end to our inquiry after\nthem, and perhaps may have disappointed mankind of one of the most noble\ndiscoveries that ever was made, or will again be made, in the world, for\nthe good of mankind in general; but so much for that.\nWilliam was so uneasy at losing this opportunity, that he pressed us\nearnestly to go up to Japan to find out these men. He told us that if\nit was nothing but to recover thirteen honest poor men from a kind of\ncaptivity, which they would otherwise never be redeemed from, and where,\nperhaps, they might, some time or other, be murdered by the barbarous\npeople, in defence of their idolatry, it were very well worth our while,\nand it would be, in some measure, making amends for the mischiefs we had\ndone in the world; but we, that had no concern upon us for the mischiefs\nwe had done, had much less about any satisfactions to be made for it, so\nhe found that kind of discourse would weigh very little with us. Then\nhe pressed us very earnestly to let him have the sloop to go by himself,\nand I told him I would not oppose it; but when he came to the sloop none\nof the men would go with him; for the case was plain, they had all a\nshare in the cargo of the great ship, as well as in that of the sloop,\nand the richness of the cargo was such that they would not leave it by\nany means; so poor William, much to his mortification, was obliged to\ngive it over. What became of those thirteen men, or whether they are not\nthere still, I can give no account of.\nWe are now at the end of our cruise; what we had taken was indeed so\nconsiderable, that it was not only enough to satisfy the most covetous\nand the most ambitious minds in the world, but it did indeed satisfy\nus, and our men declared they did not desire any more. The next motion,\ntherefore, was about going back, and the way by which we should perform\nthe voyage, so as not to be attacked by the Dutch in the Straits of\nSunda.\nWe had pretty well stored ourselves here with provisions, and it being\nnow near the return of the monsoons, we resolved to stand away to the\nsouthward; and not only to keep without the Philippine Islands, that is\nto say, to the eastward of them, but to keep on to the southward, and\nsee if we could not leave not only the Moluccas, or Spice Islands,\nbehind us, but even Nova Guinea and Nova Hollandia also; and so getting\ninto the variable winds, to the south of the tropic of Capricorn, steer\naway to the west, over the great Indian Ocean.\nThis was indeed at first a monstrous voyage in its appearance, and the\nwant of provisions threatened us. William told us in so many words, that\nit was impossible we could carry provisions enough to subsist us for\nsuch a voyage, and especially fresh water; and that, as there would\nbe no land for us to touch at where we could get any supply, it was a\nmadness to undertake it.\nBut I undertook to remedy this evil, and therefore desired them not\nto be uneasy at that, for I knew that we might supply ourselves at\nMindanao, the most southerly island of the Philippines.\nAccordingly, we set sail, having taken all the provisions here that we\ncould get, the 28th of September, the wind veering a little at first\nfrom the N.N.W. to the N.E. by E., but afterwards settled about the\nN.E. and the E.N.E. We were nine weeks in this voyage, having met with\nseveral interruptions by the weather, and put in under the lee of a\nsmall island in the latitude of 16 degrees 12 minutes, of which we never\nknew the name, none of our charts having given any account of it: I\nsay, we put in here by reason of a strange tornado or hurricane, which\nbrought us into a great deal of danger. Here we rode about sixteen days,\nthe winds being very tempestuous and the weather uncertain. However, we\ngot some provisions on shore, such as plants and roots, and a few hogs.\nWe believed there were inhabitants on the island, but we saw none of\nthem.\nFrom hence, the weather settling again, we went on and came to the\nsouthernmost part of Mindanao, where we took in fresh water and some\ncows, but the climate was so hot that we did not attempt to salt up any\nmore than so as to keep a fortnight or three weeks; and away we stood\nsouthward, crossing the line, and, leaving Gillolo on the starboard\nside, we coasted the country they call New Guinea, where, in the\nlatitude of eight degrees south, we put in again for provisions and\nwater, and where we found inhabitants; but they fled from us, and were\naltogether inconversable. From thence, sailing still southward, we left\nall behind us that any of our charts and maps took any notice of, and\nwent on till we came to the latitude of seventeen degrees, the wind\ncontinuing still north-east.\nHere we made land to the westward, which, when we had kept in sight\nfor three days, coasting along the shore for the distance of about four\nleagues, we began to fear we should find no outlet west, and so should\nbe obliged to go back again, and put in among the Moluccas at last; but\nat length we found the land break off, and go trending away to the west\nsea, seeming to be all open to the south and south-west, and a great sea\ncame rolling out of the south, which gave us to understand that there\nwas no land for a great way.\nIn a word, we kept on our course to the south, a little westerly, till\nwe passed the south tropic, where we found the winds variable; and now\nwe stood away fair west, and held it out for about twenty days, when we\ndiscovered land right ahead, and on our larboard bow; we made directly\nto the shore, being willing to take all advantages now for supplying\nourselves with fresh provisions and water, knowing we were now entering\non that vast unknown Indian Ocean, perhaps the greatest sea on the\nglobe, having, with very little interruption of islands, a continued sea\nquite round the globe.\nWe found a good road here, and some people on shore; but when we landed,\nthey fled up the country, nor would they hold any correspondence with\nus, nor come near us, but shot at us several times with arrows as long\nas lances. We set up white flags for a truce, but they either did not\nor would not understand it; on the contrary, they shot our flag of truce\nthrough several times with their arrows, so that, in a word, we never\ncame near any of them.\nWe found good water here, though it was something difficult to get at\nit, but for living creatures we could see none; for the people, if\nthey had any cattle, drove them all away, and showed us nothing but\nthemselves, and that sometimes in a threatening posture, and in number\nso great, that made us suppose the island to be greater than we first\nimagined. It is true, they would not come near enough for us to engage\nwith them, at least not openly; but they came near enough for us to see\nthem, and, by the help of our glasses, to see that they were clothed and\narmed, but their clothes were only about their lower and middle parts;\nthat they had long lances, half pikes, in their hands, besides bows\nand arrows; that they had great high things on their heads, made, as we\nbelieved, of feathers, and which looked something like our grenadiers'\ncaps in England.\nWhen we saw them so shy that they would not come near us, our men began\nto range over the island, if it was such (for we never surrounded it),\nto search for cattle, and for any of the Indian plantations, for fruits\nor plants; but they soon found, to their cost, that they were to use\nmore caution than that came to, and that they were to discover perfectly\nevery bush and every tree before they ventured abroad in the country;\nfor about fourteen of our men going farther than the rest, into a part\nof the country which seemed to be planted, as they thought, for it did\nbut seem so, only I think it was overgrown with canes, such as we make\nour cane chairs with--I say, venturing too far, they were suddenly\nattacked with a shower of arrows from almost every side of them, as they\nthought, out of the tops of the trees.\nThey had nothing to do but to fly for it, which, however, they could not\nresolve on, till five of them were wounded; nor had they escaped so, if\none of them had not been so much wiser or thoughtfuller than the rest,\nas to consider, that though they could not see the enemy, so as to shoot\nat them, yet perhaps the noise of their shot might terrify them, and\nthat they should rather fire at a venture. Accordingly, ten of them\nfaced about, and fired at random anywhere among the canes.\nThe noise and the fire not only terrified the enemy, but, as they\nbelieved, their shot had luckily hit some of them; for they found not\nonly that the arrows, which came thick among them before, ceased, but\nthey heard the Indians halloo, after their way, to one another, and make\na strange noise, more uncouth and inimitably strange than any they had\never heard, more like the howling and barking of wild creatures in the\nwoods than like the voice of men, only that sometimes they seemed to\nspeak words.\nThey observed also, that this noise of the Indians went farther and\nfarther off, so that they were satisfied the Indians fled away, except\non one side, where they heard a doleful groaning and howling, and where\nit continued a good while, which they supposed was from some or other\nof them being wounded, and howling by reason of their wounds; or\nkilled, and others howling over them: but our men had enough of making\ndiscoveries; so they did not trouble themselves to look farther, but\nresolved to take this opportunity to retreat. But the worst of\ntheir adventure was to come; for as they came back, they passed by a\nprodigious great trunk of an old tree; what tree it was, they said, they\ndid not know, but it stood like an old decayed oak in a park, where the\nkeepers in England take a stand, as they call it, to shoot a deer; and\nit stood just under the steep side of a great rock, or hill, that our\npeople could not see what was beyond it.\nAs they came by this tree, they were of a sudden shot at, from the top\nof the tree, with seven arrows and three lances, which, to our great\ngrief, killed two of our men, and wounded three more. This was the more\nsurprising, because, being without any defence, and so near the trees,\nthey expected more lances and arrows every moment; nor would flying do\nthem any service, the Indians being, as appeared, very good marksmen.\nIn this extremity, they had happily this presence of mind, viz., to run\nclose to the tree, and stand, as it were, under it; so that those above\ncould not come at, or see them, to throw their lances at them. This\nsucceeded, and gave them time to consider what to do; they knew their\nenemies and murderers were above; they heard them talk, and those above\nknew those were below; but they below were obliged to keep close for\nfear of their lances from above. At length, one of our men, looking a\nlittle more strictly than the rest, thought he saw the head of one of\nthe Indians just over a dead limb of the tree, which, it seems, the\ncreature sat upon. One man immediately fired, and levelled his piece so\ntrue that the shot went through the fellow's head; and down he fell out\nof the tree immediately, and came upon the ground with such force, with\nthe height of his fall, that if he had not been killed with the shot,\nhe would certainly have been killed with dashing his body against the\nground.\nThis so frightened them, that, besides the howling noise they made in\nthe tree, our men heard a strange clutter of them in the body of the\ntree, from whence they concluded they had made the tree hollow, and were\ngot to hide themselves there. Now, had this been the case, they were\nsecure enough from our men, for it was impossible any of our men could\nget up the tree on the outside, there being no branches to climb by;\nand, to shoot at the tree, that they tried several times to no purpose,\nfor the tree was so thick that no shot would enter it. They made no\ndoubt, however, but that they had their enemies in a trap, and that a\nsmall siege would either bring them down, tree and all, or starve them\nout; so they resolved to keep their post, and send to us for\nhelp. Accordingly, two of them came away to us for more hands, and\nparticularly desired that some of our carpenters might come with tools,\nto help to cut down the tree, or at least to cut down other wood and set\nfire to it; and that, they concluded, would not fail to bring them out.\nAccordingly, our men went like a little army, and with mighty\npreparations for an enterprise, the like of which has scarce been ever\nheard, to form the siege of a great tree. However, when they came there,\nthey found the task difficult enough, for the old trunk was indeed a\nvery great one, and very tall, being at least two-and-twenty feet high,\nwith seven old limbs standing out every way from the top, but decayed,\nand very few leaves, if any, left on it.\nWilliam the Quaker, whose curiosity led him to go among the rest,\nproposed that they should make a ladder, and get upon the top, and then\nthrow wild-fire into the tree, and smoke them out. Others proposed going\nback, and getting a great gun out of the ship, which would split the\ntree in pieces with the iron bullets; others, that they should cut down\na great deal of wood, and pile it up round the tree, and set it on fire,\nand burn the tree, and the Indians in it.\nThese consultations took up our people no less than two or three days,\nin all which time they heard nothing of the supposed garrison within\nthis wooden castle, nor any noise within. William's project was first\ngone about, and a large strong ladder was made, to scale this wooden\ntower; and in two or three hours' time it would have been ready to\nmount, when, on a sudden, they heard the noise of the Indians in the\nbody of the tree again, and a little after, several of them appeared at\nthe top of the tree, and threw some lances down at our men; one of which\nstruck one of our seamen a-top of the shoulder, and gave him such\na desperate wound, that the surgeons not only had a great deal of\ndifficulty to cure him, but the poor man endured such horrible torture,\nthat we all said they had better have killed him outright. However, he\nwas cured at last, though he never recovered the perfect use of his arm,\nthe lance having cut some of the tendons on the top of the arm, near the\nshoulder, which, as I supposed, performed the office of motion to the\nlimb before; so that the poor man was a cripple all the days of his\nlife. But to return to the desperate rogues in the tree; our men shot at\nthem, but did not find they had hit them, or any of them; but as soon as\never they shot at them, they could hear them huddle down into the trunk\nof the tree again, and there, to be sure, they were safe.\nWell, however, it was this which put by the project of William's ladder;\nfor when it was done, who would venture up among such a troop of bold\ncreatures as were there, and who, they supposed, were desperate by their\ncircumstances? And as but one man at a time could go up, they began to\nthink it would not do; and, indeed, I was of the opinion (for about this\ntime I was come to their assistance) that going up the ladder would not\ndo, unless it was thus, that a man should, as it were, run just up to\nthe top, and throw some fireworks into the tree, and come down again;\nand this we did two or three times, but found no effect of it. At\nlast, one of our gunners made a stink-pot, as we called it, being a\ncomposition which only smokes, but does not flame or burn; but withal\nthe smoke of it is so thick, and the smell of it so intolerably\nnauseous, that it is not to be suffered. This he threw into the tree\nhimself, and we waited for the effect of it, but heard or saw nothing\nall that night or the next day; so we concluded the men within were all\nsmothered; when, on a sudden, the next night we heard them upon the top\nof the tree again shouting and hallooing like madmen.\nWe concluded, as anybody would, that this was to call for help, and we\nresolved to continue our siege; for we were all enraged to see ourselves\nso baulked by a few wild people, whom we thought we had safe in our\nclutches; and, indeed, never were there so many concurring circumstances\nto delude men in any case we had met with. We resolved, however, to try\nanother stink-pot the next night, and our engineer and gunner had got it\nready, when, hearing a noise of the enemy on the top of the tree, and\nin the body of the tree, I was not willing to let the gunner go up the\nladder, which, I said, would be but to be certain of being murdered.\nHowever, he found a medium for it, and that was to go up a few steps,\nand, with a long pole in his hand, to throw it in upon the top of the\ntree, the ladder being standing all this while against the top of the\ntree; but when the gunner, with his machine at the top of his pole, came\nto the tree, with three other men to help him, behold the ladder was\ngone.\nThis perfectly confounded us; and we now concluded the Indians in the\ntree had, by this piece of negligence, taken the opportunity, and come\nall down the ladder, made their escape, and had carried away the ladder\nwith them. I laughed most heartily at my friend William, who, as I\nsaid, had the direction of the siege, and had set up a ladder for the\ngarrison, as we called them, to get down upon, and run away. But when\ndaylight came, we were all set to rights again; for there stood our\nladder, hauled up on the top of the tree, with about half of it in the\nhollow of the tree, and the other half upright in the air. Then we began\nto laugh at the Indians for fools, that they could not as well have\nfound their way down by the ladder, and have made their escape, as to\nhave pulled it up by main strength into the tree.\nWe then resolved upon fire, and so to put an end to the work at once,\nand burn the tree and its inhabitants together; and accordingly we\nwent to work to cut wood, and in a few hours' time we got enough, as we\nthought, together; and, piling it up round the bottom of the tree,\nwe set it on fire, waiting at a distance to see when, the gentlemen's\nquarters being too hot for them, they would come flying out at the top.\nBut we were quite confounded when, on a sudden, we found the fire all\nput out by a great quantity of water thrown upon it. We then thought the\ndevil must be in them, to be sure. Says William, \"This is certainly the\ncunningest piece of Indian engineering that ever was heard of; and there\ncan be but one thing more to guess at, besides witchcraft and dealing\nwith the devil, which I believe not one word of,\" says he; \"and that\nmust be, that this is an artificial tree, or a natural tree artificially\nmade hollow down into the earth, through root and all; and that these\ncreatures have an artificial cavity underneath it, quite into the hill,\nor a way to go through, and under the hill, to some other place; and\nwhere that other place is, we know not; but if it be not our own fault,\nI'll find the place, and follow them into it, before I am two days\nolder.\" He then called the carpenters, to know of them if they had any\nlarge saws that would cut through the body; and they told him they had\nno saws that were long enough, nor could men work into such a monstrous\nold stump in a great while; but that they would go to work with it with\ntheir axes, and undertake to cut it down in two days, and stock up the\nroot of it in two more. But William was for another way, which proved\nmuch better than all this; for he was for silent work, that, if\npossible, he might catch some of the fellows in it. So he sets twelve\nmen to it with large augers, to bore great holes into the side of the\ntree, to go almost through, but not quite through; which holes were\nbored without noise, and when they were done he filled them all with\ngunpowder, stopping strong plugs, bolted crossways, into the holes, and\nthen boring a slanting hole, of a less size, down into the greater hole,\nall of which were filled with powder, and at once blown up. When they\ntook fire, they made such a noise, and tore and split up the tree in\nso many places, and in such a manner, that we could see plainly such\nanother blast would demolish it; and so it did. Thus at the second time\nwe could, at two or three places, put our hands in them, and discovered\na cheat, namely, that there was a cave or hole dug into the earth, from\nor through the bottom of the hollow, and that it had communication with\nanother cave farther in, where we heard the voices of several of the\nwild folks, calling and talking to one another.\nWhen we came thus far we had a great mind to get at them; and William\ndesired that three men might be given him with hand-grenadoes; and he\npromised to go down first, and boldly he did so; for William, to give\nhim his due, had the heart of a lion.\nThey had pistols in their hands, and swords by their sides; but, as they\nhad taught the Indians before by their stink-pots, the Indians returned\nthem in their own kind; for they made such a smoke come up out of the\nentrance into the cave or hollow, that William and his three men were\nglad to come running out of the cave, and out of the tree too, for mere\nwant of breath; and indeed they were almost stifled.\nNever was a fortification so well defended, or assailants so many ways\ndefeated. We were now for giving it over, and particularly I called\nWilliam, and told him I could not but laugh to see us spinning out our\ntime here for nothing; that I could not imagine what we were doing; that\nit was certain that the rogues that were in it were cunning to the\nlast degree, and it would vex anybody to be so baulked by a few naked\nignorant fellows; but still it was not worth our while to push it any\nfurther, nor was there anything that I knew of to be got by the conquest\nwhen it was made, so that I thought it high time to give it over.\nWilliam acknowledged what I said was just, and that there was nothing\nbut our curiosity to be gratified in this attempt; and though, as he\nsaid, he was very desirous to have searched into the thing, yet he would\nnot insist upon it; so we resolved to quit it and come away, which\nwe did. However, William said before we went he would have this\nsatisfaction of them, viz., to burn down the tree and stop up the\nentrance into the cave. And while doing this the gunner told him he\nwould have one satisfaction of the rogues; and this was, that he would\nmake a mine of it, and see which way it had vent. Upon this he fetched\ntwo barrels of powder out of the ships, and placed them in the inside of\nthe hollow of the cave, as far in as he durst go to carry them, and then\nfilling up the mouth of the cave where the tree stood, and ramming it\nsufficiently hard, leaving only a pipe or touch-hole, he gave fire to\nit, and stood at a distance to see which way it would operate, when on\na sudden he found the force of the powder burst its way out among some\nbushes on the other side the little hill I mentioned, and that it came\nroaring out there as out of the mouth of a cannon. Immediately running\nthither, we saw the effects of the powder.\nFirst, we saw that there was the other mouth of the cave, which the\npowder had so torn and opened, that the loose earth was so fallen in\nagain that nothing of shape could be discerned; but there we saw what\nwas become of the garrison of the Indians, too, who had given us all\nthis trouble, for some of them had no arms, some no legs, some no head;\nsome lay half buried in the rubbish of the mine--that is to say, in the\nloose earth that fell in; and, in short, there was a miserable havoc\nmade in them all; for we had good reason to believe not one of them that\nwere in the inside could escape, but rather were shot out of the mouth\nof the cave, like a bullet out of a gun.\nWe had now our full satisfaction of the Indians; but, in short, this was\na losing voyage, for we had two men killed, one quite crippled, and five\nmore wounded; we spent two barrels of powder, and eleven days' time, and\nall to get the understanding how to make an Indian mine, or how to keep\ngarrison in a hollow tree; and with this wit, bought at this dear\nprice, we came away, having taken in some fresh water, but got no fresh\nprovisions.\nWe then considered what we should do to get back again to Madagascar.\nWe were much about the latitude of the Cape of Good Hope, but had such a\nvery long run, and were neither sure of meeting with fair winds nor with\nany land in the way, that we knew not what to think of it. William\nwas our last resort in this case again, and he was very plain with us.\n\"Friend,\" says he to Captain Wilmot, \"what occasion hast thou to run the\nventure of starving, merely for the pleasure of saying thou hast been\nwhere nobody has been before? There are a great many places nearer\nhome, of which thou mayest say the same thing at less expense. I see no\noccasion thou hast of keeping thus far south any longer than till you\nare sure you are to the west end of Java and Sumatra; and then thou\nmayest stand away north towards Ceylon, and the coast of Coromandel and\nMadras, where thou mayest get both fresh water and fresh provisions; and\nto that part it is likely we may hold out well enough with the stores we\nhave already.\"\nThis was wholesome advice, and such as was not to be slighted; so we\nstood away to the west, keeping between the latitude of 31 and 35, and\nhad very good weather and fair winds for about ten days' sail; by which\ntime, by our reckoning, we were clear of the isles, and might run away\nto the north; and if we did not fall in with Ceylon, we should at least\ngo into the great deep Bay of Bengal.\nBut we were out in our reckoning a great deal; for, when we had stood\ndue north for about fifteen or sixteen degrees, we met with land again\non our starboard bow, about three leagues' distance; so we came to an\nanchor about half a league from it, and manned out our boats to see what\nsort of a country it was. We found it a very good one; fresh water easy\nto come at, but no cattle that we could see, or inhabitants; and we\nwere very shy of searching too far after them, lest we should make such\nanother journey as we did last; so that we let rambling alone, and chose\nrather to take what we could find, which was only a few wild mangoes,\nand some plants of several kinds, which we knew not the names of.\nWe made no stay here, but put to sea again, N.W. by N., but had little\nwind for a fortnight more, when we made land again; and standing in with\nthe shore, we were surprised to find ourselves on the south shore of\nJava; and just as we were coming to an anchor we saw a boat, carrying\nDutch colours, sailing along-shore. We were not solicitous to speak\nwith them, or any other of their nation, but left it indifferent to our\npeople, when they went on shore, to see the Dutchmen or not to see them;\nour business was to get provisions, which, indeed, by this time were\nvery short with us.\nWe resolved to go on shore with our boats in the most convenient place\nwe could find, and to look out a proper harbour to bring the ship into,\nleaving it to our fate whether we should meet with friends or enemies;\nresolving, however, not to stay any considerable time, at least not\nlong enough to have expresses sent across the island to Batavia, and for\nships to come round from thence to attack us.\nWe found, according to our desire, a very good harbour, where we rode\nin seven fathom water, well defended from the weather, whatever might\nhappen; and here we got fresh provisions, such as good hogs and some\ncows; and that we might lay in a little store, we killed sixteen cows,\nand pickled and barrelled up the flesh as well as we could be supposed\nto do in the latitude of eight degrees from the line.\nWe did all this in about five days, and filled our casks with water; and\nthe last boat was coming off with herbs and roots, we being unmoored,\nand our fore-topsail loose for sailing, when we spied a large ship to\nthe northward, bearing down directly upon us. We knew not what she might\nbe, but concluded the worst, and made all possible haste to get our\nanchor up, and get under sail, that we might be in a readiness to see\nwhat she had to say to us, for we were under no great concern for one\nship, but our notion was, that we should be attacked by three or four\ntogether.\nBy the time we had got up our anchor and the boat was stowed, the ship\nwas within a league of us, and, as we thought, bore down to engage us;\nso we spread our black flag, or ancient, on the poop, and the bloody\nflag at the top-mast-head, and having made a clear ship, we stretched\naway to the westward, to get the wind of him.\nThey had, it seems, quite mistaken us before, expecting nothing of an\nenemy or a pirate in those seas; and, not doubting but we had been one\nof their own ships, they seemed to be in some confusion when they found\ntheir mistake, so they immediately hauled upon a wind on the other tack,\nand stood edging in for the shore, towards the easternmost part of the\nisland. Upon this we tacked, and stood after him with all the sail we\ncould, and in two hours came almost within gunshot. Though they crowded\nall the sail they could lay on, there was no remedy but to engage us,\nand they soon saw their inequality of force. We fired a gun for them to\nbring to; so they manned out their boat, and sent to us with a flag of\ntruce. We sent back the boat, but with this answer to the captain, that\nhe had nothing to do but to strike and bring his ship to an anchor\nunder our stern, and come on board us himself, when he should know our\ndemands; but that, however, since he had not yet put us to the trouble\nof forcing him, which we saw we were able to do, we assured them that\nthe captain should return again in safety, and all his men, and that,\nsupplying us with such things as we should demand, his ship should not\nbe plundered. They went back with this message, and it was some time\nafter they were on board before they struck, which made us begin to\nthink they refused it; so we fired a shot, and in a few minutes more we\nperceived their boat put off; and as soon as the boat put off the ship\nstruck and came to an anchor, as was directed.\nWhen the captain came on board, we demanded an account of their cargo,\nwhich was chiefly bales of goods from Bengal for Bantam. We told them\nour present want was provisions, which they had no need of, being just\nat the end of their voyage; and that, if they would send their boat on\nshore with ours, and procure us six-and-twenty head of black cattle,\nthreescore hogs, a quantity of brandy and arrack, and three hundred\nbushels of rice, we would let them go free.\nAs to the rice, they gave us six hundred bushels, which they had\nactually on board, together with a parcel shipped upon freight. Also,\nthey gave us thirty middling casks of very good arrack, but beef and\npork they had none. However, they went on shore with our men, and bought\neleven bullocks and fifty hogs, which were pickled up for our occasion;\nand upon the supplies of provision from shore, we dismissed them and\ntheir ship.\nWe lay here several days before we could furnish ourselves with the\nprovisions agreed for, and some of the men fancied the Dutchmen were\ncontriving our destruction; but they were very honest, and did what they\ncould to furnish the black cattle, but found it impossible to supply so\nmany. So they came and told us ingenuously, that, unless we could stay\na while longer, they could get no more oxen or cows than those eleven,\nwith which we were obliged to be satisfied, taking the value of them\nin other things, rather than stay longer there. On our side, we were\npunctual with them in observing the conditions we had agreed on; nor\nwould we let any of our men so much as go on board them, or suffer any\nof their men to come on board us; for, had any of our men gone on board,\nnobody could have answered for their behaviour, any more than if they\nhad been on shore in an enemy's country.\nWe were now victualled for our voyage; and, as we mattered not purchase,\nwe went merrily on for the coast of Ceylon, where we intended to touch,\nto get fresh water again, and more provisions; and we had nothing\nmaterial offered in this part of the voyage, only that we met with\ncontrary winds, and were above a month in the passage.\nWe put in upon the south coast of the island, desiring to have as little\nto do with the Dutch as we could; and as the Dutch were lords of the\ncountry as to commerce, so they are more so of the sea-coast, where they\nhave several forts, and, in particular, have all the cinnamon, which is\nthe trade of that island.\nWe took in fresh water here, and some provisions, but did not much\ntrouble ourselves about laying in any stores, our beef and hogs, which\nwe got at Java, being not yet all gone by a good deal. We had a little\nskirmish on shore here with some of the people of the island, some of\nour men having been a little too familiar with the homely ladies of the\ncountry; for homely, indeed, they were, to such a degree, that if our\nmen had not had good stomachs that way, they would scarce have touched\nany of them.\nI could never fully get it out of our men what they did, they were so\ntrue to one another in their wickedness, but I understood in the main,\nthat it was some barbarous thing they had done, and that they had like\nto have paid dear for it, for the men resented it to the last degree,\nand gathered in such numbers about them, that, had not sixteen more of\nour men, in another boat, come all in the nick of time, just to rescue\nour first men, who were but eleven, and so fetch them off by main force,\nthey had been all cut off, the inhabitants being no less than two or\nthree hundred, armed with darts and lances, the usual weapons of the\ncountry, and which they are very dexterous at the throwing, even so\ndexterous that it was scarce credible; and had our men stood to fight\nthem, as some of them were bold enough to talk of, they had been all\noverwhelmed and killed. As it was, seventeen of our men were wounded,\nand some of them very dangerously. But they were more frighted than hurt\ntoo, for every one of them gave themselves over for dead men, believing\nthe lances were poisoned. But William was our comfort here too; for,\nwhen two of our surgeons were of the same opinion, and told the men\nfoolishly enough that they would die, William cheerfully went to work\nwith them, and cured them all but one, who rather died by drinking some\narrack punch than of his wound; the excess of drinking throwing him into\na fever.\nWe had enough of Ceylon, though some of our people were for going\nashore again, sixty or seventy men together, to be revenged; but William\npersuaded them against it; and his reputation was so great among the\nmen, as well as with us that were commanders, that he could influence\nthem more than any of us.\nThey were mighty warm upon their revenge, and they would go on shore,\nand destroy five hundred of them. \"Well,\" says William, \"and suppose you\ndo, what are you the better?\" \"Why, then,\" says one of them, speaking\nfor the rest, \"we shall have our satisfaction.\" \"Well, and what will you\nbe the better for that?\" says William. They could then say nothing to\nthat. \"Then,\" says William, \"if I mistake not, your business is money;\nnow, I desire to know, if you conquer and kill two or three thousand of\nthese poor creatures, they have no money, pray what will you get? They\nare poor naked wretches; what shall you gain by them? But then,\" says\nWilliam, \"perhaps, in doing this, you may chance to lose half-a-score of\nyour own company, as it is very probable you may. Pray, what gain is\nin it? and what account can you give the captain for his lost men?\" In\nshort, William argued so effectually, that he convinced them that it\nwas mere murder to do so; and that the men had a right to their own,\nand that they had no right to take them away; that it was destroying\ninnocent men, who had acted no otherwise than as the laws of nature\ndictated; and that it would be as much murder to do so, as to meet a man\non the highway, and kill him, for the mere sake of it, in cold blood,\nnot regarding whether he had done any wrong to us or no.\nThese reasons prevailed with them at last, and they were content to\ngo away, and leave them as they found them. In the first skirmish they\nkilled between sixty and seventy men, and wounded a great many more; but\nthey had nothing, and our people got nothing by it, but the loss of one\nman's life, and the wounding sixteen more, as above.\nBut another accident brought us to a necessity of further business with\nthese people, and indeed we had like to have put an end to our lives\nand adventures all at once among them; for, about three days after our\nputting out to sea from the place where we had that skirmish, we\nwere attacked by a violent storm of wind from the south, or rather a\nhurricane of wind from all the points southward, for it blew in a most\ndesperate and furious manner from the S.E. to the S.W., one minute at\none point, and then instantly turning about again to another point,\nbut with the same violence; nor were we able to work the ship in that\ncondition, so that the ship I was in split three top-sails, and at last\nbrought the main-top-mast by the board; and, in a word, we were once or\ntwice driven right ashore; and one time, had not the wind shifted the\nvery moment it did, we had been dashed in a thousand pieces upon a great\nledge of rocks which lay off about half-a-league from the shore; but,\nas I have said, the wind shifting very often, and at that time coming\nto the E.S.E., we stretched off, and got above a league more sea-room in\nhalf-an-hour. After that, it blew with some fury S.W. by S., then S.W.\nby W., and put us back again a great way to the eastward of the ledge\nof rocks, where we found a great opening between the rocks and the land,\nand endeavoured to come to an anchor there, but we found there was no\nground fit to anchor in, and that we should lose our anchors, there\nbeing nothing but rocks. We stood through the opening, which held about\nfour leagues. The storm continued, and now we found a dreadful foul\nshore, and knew not what course to take. We looked out very narrowly\nfor some river or creek or bay, where we might run in, and come to an\nanchor, but found none a great while. At length we saw a great headland\nlie out far south into the sea, and that to such a length, that, in\nshort, we saw plainly that, if the wind held where it was, we could not\nweather it, so we ran in as much under the lee of the point as we could,\nand came to an anchor in about twelve fathom water.\nBut the wind veering again in the night, and blowing exceedingly hard,\nour anchors came home, and the ship drove till the rudder struck against\nthe ground; and had the ship gone half her length farther she had been\nlost, and every one of us with her. But our sheet-anchor held its own,\nand we heaved in some of the cable, to get clear of the ground we had\nstruck upon. It was by this only cable that we rode it out all night;\nand towards morning we thought the wind abated a little; and it was well\nfor us that it was so, for, in spite of what our sheet-anchor did for\nus, we found the ship fast aground in the morning, to our very great\nsurprise and amazement.\nWhen the tide was out, though the water here ebbed away, the ship lay\nalmost dry upon a bank of hard sand, which never, I suppose, had any\nship upon it before. The people of the country came down in great\nnumbers to look at us and gaze, not knowing what we were, but gaping at\nus as at a great sight or wonder at which they were surprised, and knew\nnot what to do.\nI have reason to believe that upon the sight they immediately sent an\naccount of a ship being there, and of the condition we were in, for the\nnext day there appeared a great man; whether it was their king or no\nI know not, but he had abundance of men with him, and some with long\njavelins in their hands as long as half-pikes; and these came all down\nto the water's edge, and drew up in a very good order, just in our view.\nThey stood near an hour without making any motion; and then there came\nnear twenty of them, with a man before them carrying a white flag. They\ncame forward into the water as high as their waists, the sea not going\nso high as before, for the wind was abated, and blew off the shore.\nThe man made a long oration to us, as we could see by his gestures; and\nwe sometimes heard his voice, but knew not one word he said. William,\nwho was always useful to us, I believe was here again the saving of all\nour lives. The case was this: The fellow, or what I might call him, when\nhis speech was done, gave three great screams (for I know not what else\nto say they were), then lowered his white flag three times, and then\nmade three motions to us with his arm to come to him.\nI acknowledge that I was for manning out the boat and going to them, but\nWilliam would by no means allow me. He told me we ought to trust nobody;\nthat, if they were barbarians, and under their own government, we might\nbe sure to be all murdered; and, if they were Christians, we should not\nfare much better, if they knew who we were; that it was the custom of\nthe Malabars to betray all people that they could get into their hands,\nand that these were some of the same people; and that, if we had any\nregard to our own safety, we should not go to them by any means. I\nopposed him a great while, and told him I thought he used to be always\nright, but that now I thought he was not; that I was no more for running\nneedless risks than he or any one else; but I thought all nations in the\nworld, even the most savage people, when they held out a flag of peace,\nkept the offer of peace made by that signal very sacredly; and I gave\nhim several examples of it in the history of my African travels, which\nI have here gone through in the beginning of this work, and that I could\nnot think these people worse than some of them. And, besides, I told him\nour case seemed to be such that we must fall into somebody's hands or\nother, and that we had better fall into their hands by a friendly treaty\nthan by a forced submission, nay, though they had indeed a treacherous\ndesign; and therefore I was for a parley with them.\n\"Well, friend,\" says William very gravely, \"if thou wilt go I cannot\nhelp it; I shall only desire to take my last leave of thee at parting,\nfor, depend upon it, thou wilt never see us again. Whether we in the\nship may come off any better at last I cannot resolve thee; but this I\nwill answer for, that we will not give up our lives idly, and in cool\nblood, as thou art going to do; we will at least preserve ourselves as\nlong as we can, and die at last like men, not like fools, trepanned by\nthe wiles of a few barbarians.\"\nWilliam spoke this with so much warmth, and yet with so much assurance\nof our fate, that I began to think a little of the risk I was going to\nrun. I had no more mind to be murdered than he; and yet I could not for\nmy life be so faint-hearted in the thing as he. Upon which I asked him\nif he had any knowledge of the place, or had ever been there. He said,\nNo. Then I asked him if he had heard or read anything about the people\nof this island, and of their way of treating any Christians that had\nfallen into their hands; and he told me he had heard of one, and\nhe would tell me the story afterward. His name, he said, was Knox,\ncommander of an East India ship, who was driven on shore, just as we\nwere, upon this island of Ceylon, though he could not say it was at the\nsame place, or whereabouts; that he was beguiled by the barbarians, and\nenticed to come on shore, just as we were invited to do at that time;\nand that, when they had him, they surrounded him, and eighteen or twenty\nof his men, and never suffered them to return, but kept them prisoners,\nor murdered them, he could not tell which; but they were carried away\nup into the country, separated from one another, and never heard of\nafterwards, except the captain's son, who miraculously made his escape,\nafter twenty years' slavery.\nI had no time then to ask him to give the full story of this Knox, much\nless to hear him tell it me; but, as it is usual in such cases, when\none begins to be a little touched, I turned short with him. \"Why then,\nfriend William,\" said I, \"what would you have us do? You see what\ncondition we are in, and what is before us; something must be done, and\nthat immediately.\" \"Why,\" says William, \"I'll tell thee what thou shalt\ndo; first, cause a white flag to be hanged out, as they do to us, and\nman out the longboat and pinnace with as many men as they can well stow,\nto handle their arms, and let me go with them, and thou shalt see what\nwe will do. If I miscarry, thou mayest be safe; and I will also tell\nthee, that if I do miscarry, it shall be my own fault, and thou shalt\nlearn wit by my folly.\"\nI knew not what to reply to him at first; but, after some pause, I said,\n\"William, William, I am as loath you should be lost as you are that I\nshould; and if there be any danger, I desire you may no more fall into\nit than I. Therefore, if you will, let us all keep in the ship, fare\nalike, and take our fate together.\"\n\"No, no,\" says William, \"there's no danger in the method I propose; thou\nshalt go with me, if thou thinkest fit. If thou pleasest but to follow\nthe measures that I shall resolve on, depend upon it, though we will\ngo off from the ships, we will not a man of us go any nearer them than\nwithin call to talk with them. Thou seest they have no boats to come off\nto us; but,\" says he, \"I rather desire thou wouldst take my advice, and\nmanage the ships as I shall give the signal from the boat, and let us\nconcert that matter together before we go off.\"\nWell, I found William had his measures in his head all laid beforehand,\nand was not at a loss what to do at all; so I told him he should be\ncaptain for this voyage, and we would be all of us under his orders,\nwhich I would see observed to a tittle.\nUpon this conclusion of our debates, he ordered four-and-twenty men into\nthe long-boat, and twelve men into the pinnace, and the sea being now\npretty smooth, they went off, being all very well armed. Also he ordered\nthat all the guns of the great ship, on the side which lay next the\nshore, should be loaded with musket-balls, old nails, stubs, and\nsuch-like pieces of old iron, lead, and anything that came to hand; and\nthat we should prepare to fire as soon as ever we saw them lower the\nwhite flag and hoist up a red one in the pinnace.\nWith these measures fixed between us, they went off towards the shore,\nWilliam in the pinnace with twelve men, and the long-boat coming after\nhim with four-and-twenty more, all stout resolute fellows, and very\nwell armed. They rowed so near the shore as that they might speak to one\nanother, carrying a white flag, as the other did, and offering a parley.\nThe brutes, for such they were, showed themselves very courteous; but\nfinding we could not understand them, they fetched an old Dutchman, who\nhad been their prisoner many years, and set him to speak to us. The sum\nand substance of his speech was, that the king of the country had sent\nhis general down to know who we were, and what our business was. William\nstood up in the stern of the pinnace, and told him, that as to that, he,\nthat was an European, by his language and voice, might easily know what\nwe were, and our condition; the ship being aground upon the sand would\nalso tell him that our business there was that of a ship in distress; so\nWilliam desired to know what they came down for with such a multitude,\nand with arms and weapons, as if they came to war with us.\nHe answered, they might have good reason to come down to the shore, the\ncountry being alarmed with the appearance of ships of strangers upon\nthe coast; and as our vessels were full of men, and as we had guns and\nweapons, the king had sent part of his military men, that, in case of\nany invasion upon the country, they might be ready to defend themselves,\nwhatsoever might be the occasion.\n\"But,\" says he, \"as you are men in distress, the king has ordered his\ngeneral, who is here also, to give you all the assistance he can, and to\ninvite you on shore, and receive you with all possible courtesy.\" Says\nWilliam, very quick upon him, \"Before I give thee an answer to that,\nI desire thee to tell me what thou art, for by thy speech thou art an\nEuropean.\" He answered presently, he was a Dutchman. \"That I know well,\"\nsays William, \"by thy speech; but art thou a native Dutchman of Holland,\nor a native of this country, that has learned Dutch by conversing among\nthe Hollanders, who we know are settled upon this island?\"\n\"No,\" says the old man, \"I am a native of Delft, in the province of\nHolland, in Europe.\"\n\"Well,\" says William, immediately, \"but art thou a Christian or a\nheathen, or what we call a renegado?\"\n\"I am,\" says he, \"a Christian.\" And so they went on, in a short\ndialogue, as follows:--\n_William_. Thou art a Dutchman, and a Christian, thou sayest; pray, art\nthou a freeman or a servant?\n_Dutchman_. I am a servant to the king here, and in his army.\n_W_. But art thou a volunteer, or a prisoner?\n_D_. Indeed I was a prisoner at first, but am at liberty now, and so am\na volunteer.\n_W_. That is to say, being first a prisoner, thou hast liberty to serve\nthem; but art thou so at liberty that thou mayest go away, if thou\npleasest, to thine own countrymen?\n_D_. No, I do not say so; my countrymen live a great way off, on the\nnorth and east parts of the island, and there is no going to them\nwithout the king's express license.\n_W_. Well, and why dost thou not get a license to go away?\n_D_. I have never asked for it.\n_W_. And, I suppose, if thou didst, thou knowest thou couldst not obtain\nit.\n_D_. I cannot say much as to that; but why do you ask me all these\nquestions?\n_W_. Why, my reason is good; if thou art a Christian and a prisoner,\nhow canst thou consent to be made an instrument to these barbarians,\nto betray us into their hands, who are thy countrymen and\nfellow-Christians? Is it not a barbarous thing in thee to do so?\n_D_. How do I go about to betray you? Do I not give you an account how\nthe king invites you to come on shore, and has ordered you to be treated\ncourteously and assisted?\n_W_. As thou art a Christian, though I doubt it much, dost thou believe\nthe king or the general, as thou callest it, means one word of what he\nsays?\n_D_. He promises you by the mouth of his great general.\n_W_. I don't ask thee what he promises, or by whom; but I ask thee this:\nCanst thou say that thou believest he intends to perform it?\n_D_. How can I answer that? How can I tell what he intends?\n_W_. Thou canst tell what thou believest.\n_D_. I cannot say but he will perform it; I believe he may.\n_W_. Thou art but a double-tongued Christian, I doubt. Come, I'll ask\nthee another question: Wilt thou say that thou believest it, and that\nthou wouldst advise me to believe it, and put our lives into their hands\nupon these promises?\n_D_. I am not to be your adviser.\n_W_. Thou art perhaps afraid to speak thy mind, because thou art in\ntheir power. Pray, do any of them understand what thou and I say? Can\nthey speak Dutch?\n_D_. No, not one of them; I have no apprehensions upon that account at\nall.\n_W_. Why, then, answer me plainly, if thou art a Christian: Is it safe\nfor us to venture upon their words, to put ourselves into their hands,\nand come on shore?\n_D_. You put it very home to me. Pray let me ask you another question:\nAre you in any likelihood of getting your ship off, if you refuse it?\n_W_. Yes, yes, we shall get off the ship; now the storm is over we don't\nfear it.\n_D_. Then I cannot say it is best for you to trust them.\n_W_. Well, it is honestly said.\n_D_. But what shall I say to them?\n_W_. Give them good words, as they give us.\n_D_. What good words?\n_W_. Why, let them tell the king that we are strangers, who were driven\non his coast by a great storm; that we thank him very kindly for his\noffer of civility to us, which, if we are further distressed, we will\naccept thankfully; but that at present we have no occasion to come on\nshore; and besides, that we cannot safely leave the ship in the present\ncondition she is in; but that we are obliged to take care of her, in\norder to get her off; and expect, in a tide or two more, to get her\nquite clear, and at an anchor.\n_D_. But he will expect you to come on shore, then, to visit him, and\nmake him some present for his civility.\n_W_. When we have got our ship clear, and stopped the leaks, we will pay\nour respects to him.\n_D_. Nay, you may as well come to him now as then.\n_W_. Nay, hold, friend; I did not say we would come to him then: you\ntalked of making him a present, that is to pay our respects to him, is\nit not?\n_D_. Well, but I will tell him that you will come on shore to him when\nyour ship is got off.\n_W_. I have nothing to say to that; you may tell him what you think fit.\n_D_. But he will be in a great rage if I do not.\n_W_. Who will he be in a great rage at?\n_D_. At you.\n_W_. What occasion have we to value that?\n_D_. Why, he will send all his army down against you.\n_W_. And what if they were all here just now? What dost thou suppose\nthey could do to us?\n_D_. He would expect they should burn your ships and bring you all to\nhim.\n_W_. Tell him, if he should try, he may catch a Tartar.\n_D_. He has a world of men.\n_W_. Has he any ships?\n_D_. No, he has no ships.\n_W_. Nor boats?\n_D_. No, nor boats.\n_W_. Why, what then do you think we care for his men? What canst thou do\nnow to us, if thou hadst a hundred thousand with thee?\n_D_. Oh! they might set you on fire.\n_W_. Set us a-firing, thou meanest; that they might indeed; but set us\non fire they shall not; they may try, at their peril, and we shall make\nmad work with your hundred thousand men, if they come within reach of\nour guns, I assure thee.\n_D_. But what if the king gives you hostages for your safety?\n_W_. Whom can he give but mere slaves and servants like thyself, whose\nlives he no more values than we an English hound?\n_D_. Whom do you demand for hostages?\n_W_. Himself and your worship.\n_D_. What would you do with him?\n_W_. Do with him as he would do with us--cut his head off.\n_D_. And what would you do with me?\n_W_. Do with thee? We would carry thee home into thine own country; and,\nthough thou deservest the gallows, we would make a man and a Christian\nof thee again, and not do by thee as thou wouldst have done by\nus--betray thee to a parcel of merciless, savage pagans, that know no\nGod, nor how to show mercy to man.\n_D_. You put a thought in my head that I will speak to you about\nto-morrow.\nThus they went away, and William came on board, and gave us a full\naccount of his parley with the old Dutchman, which was very diverting,\nand to me instructing; for I had abundance of reason to acknowledge\nWilliam had made a better judgment of things than I.\nIt was our good fortune to get our ship off that very night, and to\nbring her to an anchor at about a mile and a half farther out, and in\ndeep water, to our great satisfaction; so that we had no need to fear\nthe Dutchman's king, with his hundred thousand men; and indeed we\nhad some sport with them the next day, when they came down, a\nvast prodigious multitude of them, very few less in number, in our\nimagination, than a hundred thousand, with some elephants; though, if it\nhad been an army of elephants, they could have done us no harm; for we\nwere fairly at our anchor now, and out of their reach. And indeed we\nthought ourselves more out of their reach than we really were; and it\nwas ten thousand to one that we had not been fast aground again, for the\nwind blowing off shore, though it made the water smooth where we lay,\nyet it blew the ebb farther out than usual, and we could easily perceive\nthe sand, which we touched upon before, lay in the shape of a half-moon,\nand surrounded us with two horns of it, so that we lay in the middle\nor centre of it, as in a round bay, safe just as we were, and in deep\nwater, but present death, as it were, on the right hand and on the left,\nfor the two horns or points of the sand reached out beyond where our\nship lay near two miles.\nOn that part of the sand which lay on our east side, this misguided\nmultitude extended themselves; and being, most of them, not above their\nknees, or most of them not above ankle-deep in the water, they as it\nwere surrounded us on that side, and on the side of the mainland, and a\nlittle way on the other side of the sand, standing in a half-circle,\nor rather three-fifths of a circle, for about six miles in length. The\nother horn, or point of the sand, which lay on our west side, being not\nquite so shallow, they could not extend themselves upon it so far.\nThey little thought what service they had done us, and how unwittingly,\nand by the greatest ignorance, they had made themselves pilots to us,\nwhile we, having not sounded the place, might have been lost before we\nwere aware. It is true we might have sounded our new harbour before we\nhad ventured out, but I cannot say for certain whether we should or not;\nfor I, for my part, had not the least suspicion of what our real case\nwas; however, I say, perhaps, before we had weighed, we should have\nlooked about us a little. I am sure we ought to have done it; for,\nbesides these armies of human furies, we had a very leaky ship, and\nall our pumps could hardly keep the water from growing upon us, and our\ncarpenters were overboard, working to find out and stop the wounds we\nhad received, heeling her first on the one side, and then on the other;\nand it was very diverting to see how, when our men heeled the ship over\nto the side next the wild army that stood on the east horn of the sand,\nthey were so amazed, between fright and joy, that it put them into a\nkind of confusion, calling to one another, hallooing and skreeking, in a\nmanner that it is impossible to describe.\nWhile we were doing this, for we were in a great hurry you may be sure,\nand all hands at work, as well at the stopping our leaks as repairing\nour rigging and sails, which had received a great deal of damage, and\nalso in rigging a new main-top-mast and the like;--I say, while we were\ndoing all this, we perceived a body of men, of near a thousand, move\nfrom that part of the army of the barbarians that lay at the bottom of\nthe sandy bay, and came all along the water's edge, round the sand, till\nthey stood just on our broadside east, and were within about half-a-mile\nof us. Then we saw the Dutchman come forward nearer to us, and all\nalone, with his white flag and all his motions, just as before, and\nthere he stood.\nOur men had but just brought the ship to rights again as they came up to\nour broadside, and we had very happily found out and stopped the worst\nand most dangerous leak that we had, to our very great satisfaction;\nso I ordered the boats to be hauled up and manned as they were the day\nbefore, and William to go as plenipotentiary. I would have gone myself\nif I had understood Dutch, but as I did not, it was to no purpose, for\nI should be able to know nothing of what was said but from him\nat second-hand, which might be done as well afterwards. All the\ninstructions I pretended to give William was, if possible, to get the\nold Dutchman away, and, if he could, to make him come on board.\nWell, William went just as before, and when he came within about sixty\nor seventy yards of the shore, he held up his white flag as the Dutchman\ndid, and turning the boat's broadside to the shore, and his men lying\nupon their oars, the parley or dialogue began again thus:--\n_William_. Well, friend, what dost thou say to us now?\n_Dutchman_. I come of the same mild errand as I did yesterday.\n_W_. What! dost thou pretend to come of a mild errand with all these\npeople at thy back, and all the foolish weapons of war they bring with\nthem? Prithee, what dost thou mean?\n_D_. The king hastens us to invite the captain and all his men to come\non shore, and has ordered all his men to show them all the civility they\ncan.\n_W_. Well, and are all those men come to invite us ashore?\nD. They will do you no hurt, if you will come on shore peaceably.\nW. Well, and what dost thou think they can do to us, if we will not?\nD. I would not have them do you any hurt then, neither.\nW. But prithee, friend, do not make thyself fool and knave too. Dost not\nthou know that we are out of fear of all thy army, and out of danger\nof all that they can do? What makes thee act so simply as well as so\nknavishly?\nD. Why, you may think yourselves safer than you are; you do not know\nwhat they may do to you. I can assure you they are able to do you a\ngreat deal of harm, and perhaps burn your ship.\nW. Suppose that were true, as I am sure it is false; you see we have\nmore ships to carry us off (pointing to the sloop).\n[N.B.--Just at this time we discovered the sloop standing towards us\nfrom the east, along the shore, at about the distance of two leagues,\nwhich was to our particular satisfaction, she having been missing\nthirteen days.]\nD. We do not value that; if you had ten ships, you dare not come on\nshore, with all the men you have, in a hostile way; we are too many for\nyou.\nW. Thou dost not, even in that, speak as thou meanest; and we may give\nthee a trial of our hands when our friends come up to us, for thou\nhearest they have discovered us.\n[Just then the sloop fired five guns, which was to get news of us, for\nthey did not see us.]\nD. Yes, I hear they fire; but I hope your ship will not fire again; for,\nif they do, our general will take it for breaking the truce, and will\nmake the army let fly a shower of arrows at you in the boat.\nW. Thou mayest be sure the ship will fire that the other ship may hear\nthem, but not with ball. If thy general knows no better, he may begin\nwhen he will; but thou mayest be sure we will return it to his cost.\nD. What must I do, then?\nW. Do! Why, go to him, and tell him of it beforehand, then; and let\nhim know that the ship firing is not at him nor his men; and then come\nagain, and tell us what he says.\nD. No; I will send to him, which will do as well.\nW. Do as thou wilt, but I believe thou hadst better go thyself; for if\nour men fire first, I suppose he will be in a great wrath, and it may be\nat thee; for, as to his wrath at us, we tell thee beforehand we value it\nnot.\nD. You slight them too much; you know not what they may do.\nW. Thou makest as if these poor savage wretches could do mighty things:\nprithee, let us see what you can all do, we value it not; thou mayest\nset down thy flag of truce when thou pleasest, and begin.\nD. I had rather make a truce, and have you all part friends.\nW. Thou art a deceitful rogue thyself, for it is plain thou knowest\nthese people would only persuade us on shore to entrap and surprise us;\nand yet thou that art a Christian, as thou callest thyself, would have\nus come on shore and put our lives into their hands who know nothing\nthat belongs to compassion, good usage, or good manners. How canst thou\nbe such a villain?\nD. How can you call me so? What have I done to you, and what would you\nhave me do?\nW. Not act like a traitor, but like one that was once a Christian, and\nwould have been so still, if you had not been a Dutchman.\nD. I know not what to do, not I. I wish I were from them; they are a\nbloody people.\nW. Prithee, make no difficulty of what thou shouldst do. Canst thou\nswim?\nD. Yes, I can swim; but if I should attempt to swim off to you, I should\nhave a thousand arrows and javelins sticking in me before I should get\nto your boat.\nW. I'll bring the boat close to thee, and take thee on board in spite\nof them all. We will give them but one volley, and I'll engage they will\nall run away from thee.\nD. You are mistaken in them, I assure you; they would immediately come\nall running down to the shore, and shoot fire-arrows at you, and set\nyour boat and ship and all on fire about your ears.\nW. We will venture that if thou wilt come off.\nD. Will you use me honourably when I am among you?\nW. I'll give thee my word for it, if thou provest honest.\nD. Will you not make me a prisoner?\nW. I will be thy surety, body for body, that thou shalt be a free man,\nand go whither thou wilt, though I own to thee thou dost not deserve it.\nJust at this time our ship fired three guns to answer the sloop and let\nher know we saw her, who immediately, we perceived, understood it,\nand stood directly for the place. But it is impossible to express the\nconfusion and filthy vile noise, the hurry and universal disorder, that\nwas among that vast multitude of people upon our firing off three guns.\nThey immediately all repaired to their arms, as I may call it; for to\nsay they put themselves into order would be saying nothing.\nUpon the word of command, then, they advanced all in a body to the\nseaside, and resolving to give us one volley of their fire-arms (for\nsuch they were), immediately they saluted us with a hundred thousand of\ntheir fire-arrows, every one carrying a little bag of cloth dipped\nin brimstone, or some such thing, which, flying through the air, had\nnothing to hinder it taking fire as it flew, and it generally did so.\nI cannot say but this method of attacking us, by a way we had no notion\nof, might give us at first some little surprise, for the number was so\ngreat at first, that we were not altogether without apprehensions that\nthey might unluckily set our ship on fire, so that William resolved\nimmediately to row on board, and persuade us all to weigh and stand out\nto sea; but there was no time for it, for they immediately let fly a\nvolley at the boat, and at the ship, from all parts of the vast crowd of\npeople which stood near the shore. Nor did they fire, as I may call it,\nall at once, and so leave off; but their arrows being soon notched upon\ntheir bows, they kept continually shooting, so that the air was full of\nflame.\nI could not say whether they set their cotton rag on fire before they\nshot the arrow, for I did not perceive they had fire with them, which,\nhowever, it seems they had. The arrow, besides the fire it carried with\nit, had a head, or a peg, as we call it, of bone; and some of sharp\nflint stone; and some few of a metal, too soft in itself for metal, but\nhard enough to cause it to enter, if it were a plank, so as to stick\nwhere it fell.\nWilliam and his men had notice sufficient to lie close behind their\nwaste-boards, which, for this very purpose, they had made so high\nthat they could easily sink themselves behind them, so as to defend\nthemselves from anything that came point-blank (as we call it) or upon a\nline; but for what might fall perpendicularly out of the air they had no\nguard, but took the hazard of that. At first they made as if they would\nrow away, but before they went they gave a volley of their fire-arms,\nfiring at those which stood with the Dutchman; but William ordered them\nto be sure to take their aim at others, so as to miss him, and they did\nso.\nThere was no calling to them now, for the noise was so great among them\nthat they could hear nobody, but our men boldly rowed in nearer to them,\nfor they were at first driven a little off, and when they came nearer,\nthey fired a second volley, which put the fellows into great confusion,\nand we could see from the ship that several of them were killed or\nwounded.\nWe thought this was a very unequal fight, and therefore we made a signal\nto our men to row away, that we might have a little of the sport as\nwell as they; but the arrows flew so thick upon them, being so near the\nshore, that they could not sit to their oars, so they spread a little\nof their sail, thinking they might sail along the shore, and lie behind\ntheir waste-board; but the sail had not been spread six minutes till it\nhad five hundred fire-arrows shot into it and through it, and at length\nset it fairly on fire; nor were our men quite out of the danger of its\nsetting the boat on fire, and this made them paddle and shove the boat\naway as well as they could, as they lay, to get farther off.\nBy this time they had left us a fair mark at the whole savage army; and\nas we had sheered the ship as near to them as we could, we fired among\nthe thickest of them six or seven times, five guns at a time, with shot,\nold iron, musket-bullets, &c.\nWe could easily see that we made havoc among them, and killed and\nwounded abundance of them, and that they were in a great surprise at it;\nbut yet they never offered to stir, and all this while their fire-arrows\nflew as thick as before.\nAt last, on a sudden their arrows stopped, and the old Dutchman came\nrunning down to the water-side all alone, with his white flag, as\nbefore, waving it as high as he could, and making signals to our boat to\ncome to him again.\nWilliam did not care at first to go near him, but the man continuing to\nmake signals to him to come, at last William went; and the Dutchman told\nhim that he had been with the general, who was much mollified by the\nslaughter of his men, and that now he could have anything of him.\n\"Anything!\" says William; \"what have we to do with him? Let him go about\nhis business, and carry his men out of gunshot, can't he?\"\n\"Why,\" says the Dutchman, \"but he dares not stir, nor see the king's\nface; unless some of your men come on shore, he will certainly put him\nto death.\"\n\"Why, then,\" says William, \"he is a dead man; for if it were to save his\nlife, and the lives of all the crowd that is with him, he shall never\nhave one of us in his power. But I'll tell thee,\" said William, \"how\nthou shalt cheat him, and gain thy own liberty too, if thou hast any\nmind to see thy own country again, and art not turned savage, and grown\nfond of living all thy days among heathens and savages.\"\n\"I would be glad to do it with all my heart,\" says he; \"but if I should\noffer to swim off to you now, though they are so far from me, they shoot\nso true that they would kill me before I got half-way.\"\n\"But,\" says William, \"I'll tell thee how thou shalt come with his\nconsent. Go to him, and tell him I have offered to carry you on board,\nto try if you could persuade the captain to come on shore, and that I\nwould not hinder him if he was willing to venture.\"\nThe Dutchman seemed in a rapture at the very first word. \"I'll do it,\"\nsays he; \"I am persuaded he will give me leave to come.\"\nAway he runs, as if he had a glad message to carry, and tells the\ngeneral that William had promised, if he would go on board the ship with\nhim, he would persuade the captain to return with him. The general was\nfool enough to give him orders to go, and charged him not to come back\nwithout the captain; which he readily promised, and very honestly might.\nSo they took him in, and brought him on board, and he was as good as\nhis word to them, for he never went back to them any more; and the sloop\nbeing come to the mouth of the inlet where we lay, we weighed and set\nsail; but, as we went out, being pretty near the shore, we fired three\nguns, as it were among them, but without any shot, for it was of no\nuse to us to hurt any more of them. After we had fired, we gave them a\ncheer, as the seamen call it; that is to say, we hallooed, at them, by\nway of triumph, and so carried off their ambassador. How it fared with\ntheir general, we know nothing of that.\nThis passage, when I related it to a friend of mine, after my return\nfrom those rambles, agreed so well with his relation of what happened to\none Mr Knox, an English captain, who some time ago was decoyed on shore\nby these people, that it could not but be very much to my satisfaction\nto think what mischief we had all escaped; and I think it cannot but be\nvery profitable to record the other story (which is but short) with my\nown, to show whoever reads this what it was I avoided, and prevent their\nfalling into the like, if they have to do with the perfidious people of\nCeylon. The relation is as follows:--\nThe island of Ceylon being inhabited for the greatest part by\nbarbarians, which will not allow any trade or commerce with any European\nnation, and inaccessible by any travellers, it will be convenient to\nrelate the occasion how the author of this story happened to go into\nthis island, and what opportunities he had of being fully acquainted\nwith the people, their laws and customs, that so we may the better\ndepend upon the account, and value it as it deserves, for the rarity\nas well as the truth of it; and both these the author gives us a brief\nrelation of in this manner. His words are as follows:\nIn the year 1657, the _Anne_ frigate, of London, Captain Robert Knox,\ncommander, on the 21st day of January, set sail out of the Downs, in the\nservice of the honourable East India Company of England, bound for Fort\nSt George, upon the coast of Coromandel, to trade for one year from port\nto port in India; which having performed, as he was lading his goods\nto return for England, being in the road of Masulipatam, on the 19th of\nNovember 1659, there happened such a mighty storm, that in it several\nships were cast away, and he was forced to cut his mainmast by the\nboard, which so disabled the ship, that he could not proceed in his\nvoyage; whereupon Cottiar, in the island of Ceylon, being a very\ncommodious bay, fit for her present distress, Thomas Chambers, Esq.,\nsince Sir Thomas Chambers, the agent at Fort St George, ordered that the\nship should take in some cloth and India merchants belonging to Porto\nNovo, who might trade there while she lay to set her mast, and repair\nthe other damages sustained by the storm. At her first coming thither,\nafter the Indian merchants were set ashore, the captain and his men were\nvery jealous of the people of that place, by reason the English never\nhad any commerce or dealing with them; but after they had been there\ntwenty days, going ashore and returning again at pleasure, without any\nmolestation, they began to lay aside all suspicious thoughts of the\npeople that dwelt thereabouts, who had kindly entertained them for their\nmoney.\nBy this time the king of the country had notice of their arrival, and,\nnot being acquainted with their intents, he sent down a dissauva, or\ngeneral, with an army, to them, who immediately sent a messenger to\nthe captain on board, to desire him to come ashore to him, pretending\na letter from the king. The captain saluted the message with firing of\nguns, and ordered his son, Robert Knox, and Mr John Loveland, merchant\nof the ship, to go ashore, and wait on him. When they were come before\nhim, he demanded who they were, and how long they should stay. They told\nhim they were Englishmen, and not to stay above twenty or thirty days,\nand desired permission to trade in his Majesty's port. His answer was,\nthat the king was glad to hear the English were come into his country,\nand had commanded him to assist them as they should desire, and had sent\na letter to be delivered to none but the captain himself. They were then\ntwelve miles from the seaside, and therefore replied, that the captain\ncould not leave his ship to come so far; but if he pleased to go down\nto the seaside, the captain would wait on him to receive the letter;\nwhereupon the dissauva desired them to stay that day, and on the morrow\nhe would go with them; which, rather than displease him in so small a\nmatter, they consented to. In the evening the dissauva sent a present to\nthe captain of cattle and fruits, &c., which, being carried all night by\nthe messengers, was delivered to him in the morning, who told him withal\nthat his men were coming down with the dissauva, and desired his company\non shore against his coming, having a letter from the king to deliver\ninto his own hand. The captain, mistrusting nothing, came on shore with\nhis boat, and, sitting under a tamarind tree, waited for the dissauva.\nIn the meantime the native soldiers privately surrounded him and the\nseven men he had with him, and seizing them, carried them to meet the\ndissauva, bearing the captain on a hammock on their shoulders.\nThe next day the long-boat's crew, not knowing what had happened, came\non shore to cut down a tree to make cheeks for the mainmast, and were\nmade prisoners after the same manner, though with more violence, because\nthey were more rough with them, and made resistance; yet they were not\nbrought to the captain and his company, but quartered in another house\nin the same town.\nThe dissauva having thus gotten two boats and eighteen men, his next\ncare was to gain the ship; and to that end, telling the captain that he\nand his men were only detained because the king intended to send letters\nand a present to the English nation by him, desired he would send some\nmen on board his ship to order her to stay; and because the ship was\nin danger of being fired by the Dutch if she stayed long in the bay, to\nbring her up the river. The captain did not approve of the advice, but\ndid not dare to own his dislike; so he sent his son with the order, but\nwith a solemn conjuration to return again, which he accordingly did,\nbringing a letter from the company in the ship, that they would not obey\nthe captain, nor any other, in this matter, but were resolved to stand\non their own defence. This letter satisfied the dissauva, who thereupon\ngave the captain leave to write for what he would have brought from\nthe ship, pretending that he had not the king's order to release them,\nthough it would suddenly come.\nThe captain seeing he was held in suspense, and the season of the year\nspending for the ship to proceed on her voyage to some place, sent order\nto Mr John Burford, the chief mate, to take charge of the ship, and\nset sail to Porto Novo, from whence they came, and there to follow the\nagent's order.\nAnd now began that long and sad captivity they all along feared. The\nship being gone, the dissauva was called up to the king, and they were\nkept under guards a while, till a special order came from the king\nto part them, and put one in a town, for the conveniency of their\nmaintenance, which the king ordered to be at the charge of the country.\nOn September 16, 1660, the captain and his son were placed in a town\ncalled Bonder Coswat, in the country of Hotcurly [? Hewarrisse Korle],\ndistant from the city of Kandy northward thirty miles, and from the\nrest of the English a full day's journey. Here they had their provisions\nbrought them twice a day, without money, as much as they could eat,\nand as good as the country yielded. The situation of the place was very\npleasant and commodious; but that year that part of the land was very\nsickly by agues and fevers, of which many died. The captain and his son\nafter some time were visited with the common distemper, and the captain,\nbeing also loaded with grief for his deplorable condition, languished\nmore than three months, and then died, February 9, 1661.\nRobert Knox, his son, was now left desolate, sick, and in captivity,\nhaving none to comfort him but God, who is the Father of the fatherless,\nand hears the groans of such as are in captivity; being alone to enter\nupon a long scene of misery and calamity; oppressed with weakness of\nbody and grief of soul for the loss of his father, and the remediless\ntrouble that he was like to endure; and the first instance of it was in\nthe burial of his father, for he sent his black boy to the people of\nthe town, to desire their assistance, because they understood not their\nlanguage; but they sent him only a rope, to drag him by the neck into\nthe woods, and told him that they would offer him no other help, unless\nhe would pay for it. This barbarous answer increased his trouble for his\nfather's death, that now he was like to lie unburied, and be made a prey\nto the wild beasts in the woods; for the ground was very hard, and they\nhad not tools to dig with, and so it was impossible for them to bury\nhim; and having a small matter of money left him, viz., a pagoda and a\ngold ring, he hired a man, and so buried him in as decent a manner as\ntheir condition would permit.\nHis dead father being thus removed out of his sight, but his ague\ncontinuing, he was reduced very low, partly by sorrow and partly by his\ndisease. All the comfort he had was to go into the wood and fields with\na book, either the \"Practice of Piety\" or Mr Rogers's \"Seven Treatises,\"\nwhich were the only two books he had, and meditate and read, and\nsometimes pray; in which his anguish made him often invert Elijah's\npetition,--that he might die, because his life was a burden to him. God,\nthough He was pleased to prolong his life, yet He found a way to lighten\nhis grief, by removing his ague, and granting him a desire which above\nall things was acceptable to him. He had read his two books over so\noften that he had both almost by heart; and though they were both\npious and good writings, yet he longed for the truth from the original\nfountain, and thought it his greatest unhappiness that he had not a\nBible, and did believe that he should never see one again; but, contrary\nto his expectation, God brought him one after this manner. As he was\nfishing one day with his black boy, to catch some fish to relieve his\nhunger, an old man passed by them, and asked his boy whether his master\ncould read; and when the boy had answered yes, he told him that he had\ngotten a book from the Portuguese, when they left Colombo; and, if his\nmaster pleased, he would sell it him. The boy told his master, who bade\nhim go and see what book it was. The boy having served the English\nsome time, knew the book, and as soon as he got it into his hand, came\nrunning to him, calling out before he came to him, \"It is the Bible!\"\nThe words startled him, and he flung down his angle to meet him, and,\nfinding it was true, was mightily rejoiced to see it; but he was afraid\nhe should not have enough to purchase it, though he was resolved to part\nwith all the money he had, which was but one pagoda, to buy it; but his\nblack boy persuading him to slight it, and leave it to him to buy it, he\nat length obtained it for a knit cap.\nThis accident he could not but look upon as a great miracle, that God\nshould bestow upon him such an extraordinary blessing, and bring him a\nBible in his own native language, in such a remote part of the world,\nwhere His name was not known, and where it was never heard of that an\nEnglishman had ever been before. The enjoyment of this mercy was a great\ncomfort to him in captivity, and though he wanted no bodily convenience\nthat the country did afford; for the king, immediately after his\nfather's death, had sent an express order to the people of the towns,\nthat they should be kind to him, and give him good victuals; and after\nhe had been some time in the country, and understood the language,\nhe got him good conveniences, as a house and gardens; and falling\nto husbandry, God so prospered him, that he had plenty, not only for\nhimself, but to lend others; which being, according to the custom of the\ncountry, at 50 per cent. a year, much enriched him: he had also goats,\nwhich served him for mutton, and hogs and hens. Notwithstanding this, I\nsay, for he lived as fine as any of their noblemen, he could not so far\nforget his native country as to be contented to dwell in a strange land,\nwhere there was to him a famine of God's word and sacraments, the want\nof which made all other things to be of little value to him; therefore,\nas he made it his daily and fervent prayer to God, in His good time, to\nrestore him to both, so, at length, he, with one Stephen Rutland, who\nhad lived with him two years before, resolved to make their escape, and,\nabout the year 1673, meditated all secret ways to compass it. They had\nbefore taken up a way of peddling about the country, and buying tobacco,\npepper, garlic, combs, and all sorts of iron ware, and carried them into\nthose parts of the country where they wanted them; and now, to promote\ntheir design, as they went with their commodities from place to place,\nthey discoursed with the country people (for they could now speak their\nlanguage well) concerning the ways and inhabitants, where the isle was\nthinnest and fullest inhabited, where and how the watches lay from one\ncountry to another, and what commodities were proper for them to carry\ninto all parts; pretending that they would furnish themselves with such\nwares as the respective places wanted. None doubted but what they did\nwas upon the account of trade, because Mr Knox was so well seated, and\ncould not be supposed to leave such an estate, by travelling northward,\nbecause that part of the land was least inhabited; and so, furnishing\nthemselves with such wares as were vendible in those parts, they set\nforth, and steered their course towards the north part of the islands,\nknowing very little of the ways, which were generally intricate and\nperplexed, because they have no public roads, but a multitude of little\npaths from one town to another, and those often changing; and for white\nmen to inquire about the ways was very dangerous, because the people\nwould presently suspect their design.\nAt this time they travelled from Conde Uda as far as the country of\nNuwarakalawiya, which is the furthermost part of the king's dominions,\nand about three days' journey from their dwelling. They were very\nthankful to Providence that they had passed all difficulties so far,\nbut yet they durst not go any farther, because they had no wares left to\ntraffic with; and it being the first time they had been absent so long\nfrom home, they feared the townsmen would come after them to seek for\nthem; and so they returned home, and went eight or ten times into those\nparts with their wares, till they became well acquainted both with the\npeople and the paths.\nIn these parts Mr Knox met his black boy, whom he had turned away divers\nyears before. He had now got a wife and children, and was very poor;\nbut being acquainted with these quarters, he not only took directions\nof him, but agreed with him, for a good reward, to conduct him and\nhis companions to the Dutch. He gladly undertook it, and a time was\nappointed between them; but Mr Knox being disabled by a grievous pain,\nwhich seized him on his right side, and held him five days that he could\nnot travel, this appointment proved in vain; for though he went as\nsoon as he was well, his guide was gone into another country about his\nbusiness, and they durst not at that time venture to run away without\nhim.\nThese attempts took up eight or nine years, various accidents hindering\ntheir designs, but most commonly the dry weather, because they feared in\nthe woods they should be starved with thirst, all the country being in\nsuch a condition almost four or five years together for lack of rain.\nOn September 22, 1679, they set forth again, furnished with knives and\nsmall axes for their defence, because they could carry them privately\nand send all sorts of wares to sell as formerly, and all necessary\nprovisions, the moon being twenty-seven days old, that they might have\nlight to run away by, to try what success God Almighty would now give\nthem in seeking their liberty. Their first stage was to Anuradhapoora,\nin the way to which lay a wilderness, called Parraoth Mocolane, full of\nwild elephants, tigers, and bears; and because it is the utmost confines\nof the king's dominions, there is always a watch kept.\nIn the middle of the way they heard that the governor's officers of\nthese parts were out to gather up the king's revenues and duties, to\nsend them up to the city; which put them into no small fear, lest,\nfinding them, they should send them back again; whereupon they withdrew\nto the western parts of Ecpoulpot, and sat down to knitting till they\nheard the officers were gone. As soon as they were departed, they went\nonwards of their journey, having got a good parcel of cotton-yarn to\nknit caps with, and having kept their wares, as they pretended, to\nexchange for dried flesh, which was sold only in those lower parts.\nTheir way lay necessarily through the governor's yard at Kalluvilla, who\ndwells there on purpose to examine all that go and come. This greatly\ndistressed them, because he would easily suspect they were out of their\nbounds, being captives; however, they went resolutely to his house, and\nmeeting him, presented him with a small parcel of tobacco and betel;\nand, showing him their wares, told him they came to get dried flesh to\ncarry back with them. The governor did not suspect them, but told\nthem he was sorry they came in so dry a time, when no deer were to be\ncatched, but if some rain fell, he would soon supply them. This answer\npleased them, and they seemed contented to stay; and accordingly,\nabiding with him two or three days, and no rain falling, they presented\nthe governor with five or six charges of gunpowder, which is a rarity\namong them; and leaving a bundle at his house, they desired him to shoot\nthem some deer, while they made a step to Anuradhapoora. Here also they\nwere put in a great fright by the coming of certain soldiers from the\nking to the governor, to give him orders to set a secure guard at the\nwatches, that no suspicious persons might pass, which, though it was\nonly intended to prevent the flight of the relations of certain nobles\nwhom the king had clapped up, yet they feared they might wonder to see\nwhite men here, and so send them back again; but God so ordered it that\nthey were very kind to them and left them to their business, and so they\ngot safe to Anuradhapoora. Their pretence was dried flesh, though they\nknew there was none to be had; but their real business was to search the\nway down to the Dutch, which they stayed three days to do; but finding\nthat in the way to Jaffnapatam, which is one of the Dutch ports, there\nwas a watch which could hardly be passed, and other inconveniences not\nsurmountable, they resolved to go back, and take the river Malwatta Oya,\nwhich they had before judged would be a probable guide to lead them to\nthe sea; and, that they might not be pursued, left Anuradhapoora just at\nnight, when the people never travel for fear of wild beasts, on Sunday,\nOctober 12, being stored with all things needful for their journey,\nviz., ten days' provision, a basin to boil their provision in, two\ncalabashes to fetch water in, and two great tallipat leaves for tents,\nwith jaggery, sweetmeats, tobacco, betel, tinder-boxes, and a deerskin\nfor shoes, to keep their feet from thorns, because to them they chiefly\ntrusted. Being come to the river, they struck into the woods, and kept\nby the side of it; yet not going on the sand (lest their footsteps\nshould be discerned), unless forced, and then going backwards.\nBeing gotten a good way into the wood, it began to rain; wherefore they\nerected their tents, made a fire, and refreshed themselves against the\nrising of the moon, which was then eighteen days old; and having tied\ndeerskins about their feet, and eased themselves of their wares, they\nproceeded on their journey. When they had travelled three or four hours\nwith difficulty, because the moon gave but little light among the thick\ntrees, they found an elephant in their way before them, and because they\ncould not scare him away, they were forced to stay till morning; and so\nthey kindled a fire, and took a pipe of tobacco. By the light they could\nnot discern that ever anybody had been there, nothing being to be seen\nbut woods; and so they were in great hopes that they were past all\ndanger, being beyond all inhabitants; but they were mistaken, for the\nriver winding northward, brought them into the midst of a parcel of\ntowns, called Tissea Wava, where, being in danger of being seen, they\nwere under a mighty terror; for had the people found them, they would\nhave beat them, and sent them up to the king; and, to avoid it, they\ncrept into a hollow tree, and sat there in mud and wet till it began to\ngrow dark, and then betaking themselves to their legs, travelled till\nthe darkness of night stopped them. They heard voices behind them, and\nfeared it was somebody in pursuit of them; but at length, discerning\nit was only an hallooing to keep the wild beasts out of the corn, they\npitched their tents by the river, and having boiled rice and roasted\nmeat for their suppers, and satisfied their hunger, they committed\nthemselves to God's keeping, and laid them down to sleep.\nThe next morning, to prevent the worst, they got up early and hastened\non their journey; and though they were now got out of all danger of the\ntame Chiangulays, they were in great danger of the wild ones, of whom\nthose woods were full; and though they saw their tents, yet they were\nall gone, since the rains had fallen, from the river into the woods; and\nso God kept them from that danger, for, had they met the wild men, they\nhad been shot.\nThus they travelled from morning till night several days, through bushes\nand thorns, which made their arms and shoulders, which were naked,\nall of a gore blood. They often met with bears, hogs, deer, and wild\nbuffaloes; but they all ran away as soon as they saw them. The river was\nexceedingly full of alligators; in the evening they used to pitch their\ntents, and make great fires both before and behind them, to affright\nthe wild beasts; and though they heard the voices of all sorts, they saw\nnone.\nOn Thursday, at noon, they crossed the river Coronda [? Kannadera Oya],\nwhich parts the country of the Malabars from the king's, and on Friday,\nabout nine or ten in the morning, came among the inhabitants, of whom\nthey were as much afraid as of the Chiangulays before; for, though the\nWanniounay, or prince of this people, payeth tribute to the Dutch out\nof fear, yet he is better affected to the King of Kandy, and, if he had\ntook them, would have sent them up to their old master; but not knowing\nany way to escape, they kept on their journey by the river-side by day,\nbecause the woods were not to be travelled by night for thorns and wild\nbeasts, who came down then to the river to drink. In all the Malabar\ncountry they met with only two Brahmins, who treated them very civilly;\nand for their money, one of them conducted them till they came into the\nterritories of the Dutch, and out of all danger of the King of Kandy,\nwhich did not a little rejoice them; but yet they were in no small\ntrouble how to find the way out of the woods, till a Malabar, for the\nlucre of a knife, conducted them to a Dutch town, where they found\nguides to conduct them from town to town, till they came to the fort\ncalled Aripo, where they arrived Saturday, October 18, 1679, and there\nthankfully adored God's wonderful providence, in thus completing their\ndeliverance from a long captivity of nineteen years and six months.\nI come now back to my own history, which grows near a conclusion, as to\nthe travels I took in this part of the world. We were now at sea, and we\nstood away to the north for a while, to try if we could get a market for\nour spice, for we were very rich in nutmegs, but we ill knew what to\ndo with them; we durst not go upon the English coast, or, to speak more\nproperly, among the English factories to trade; not that we were afraid\nto fight any two ships they had, and, besides that, we knew that, as\nthey had no letters of marque, or of reprisals from the government, so\nit was none of their business to act offensively, no, not though we were\npirates. Indeed, if we had made any attempt upon them, they might have\njustified themselves in joining together to resist, and assisting one\nanother to defend themselves; but to go out of their business to attack\na pirate ship of almost fifty guns, as we were, it was plain that it was\nnone of their business, and consequently it was none of our concern, so\nwe did not trouble ourselves about it; but, on the other hand, it was\nnone of our business to be seen among them, and to have the news of us\ncarried from one factory to another, so that whatever design we might be\nupon at another time, we should be sure to be prevented and discovered.\nMuch less had we any occasion to be seen among any of the Dutch\nfactories upon the coast of Malabar; for, being fully laden with the\nspices which we had, in the sense of their trade, plundered them of, it\nwould have told them what we were, and all that we had been doing; and\nthey would, no doubt, have concerned themselves all manner of ways to\nhave fallen upon us.\nThe only way we had for it was to stand away for Goa, and trade, if we\ncould, for our spices, with the Portuguese factory there. Accordingly,\nwe sailed almost thither, for we had made land two days before, and\nbeing in the latitude of Goa, were standing in fair for Margaon, on the\nhead of Salsat, at the going up to Goa, when I called to the men at the\nhelm to bring the ship to, and bid the pilot go away N.N.W., till we\ncame out of sight of the shore, when William and I called a council,\nas we used to do upon emergencies, what course we should take to trade\nthere and not be discovered; and we concluded at length that we would\nnot go thither at all, but that William, with such trusty fellows only\nas could be depended upon, should go in the sloop to Surat, which was\nstill farther northward, and trade there as merchants with such of the\nEnglish factory as they could find to be for their turn.\nTo carry this with the more caution, and so as not to be suspected,\nwe agreed to take out all her guns, and put such men into her, and no\nother, as would promise us not to desire or offer to go on shore, or to\nenter into any talk or conversation with any that might come on board;\nand, to finish the disguise to our mind, William documented two of our\nmen, one a surgeon, as he himself was, and the other, a ready-witted\nfellow, an old sailor, that had been a pilot upon the coast of New\nEngland, and was an excellent mimic; these two William dressed up like\ntwo Quakers, and made them talk like such. The old pilot he made go\ncaptain of the sloop, and the surgeon for doctor, as he was, and himself\nsupercargo. In this figure, and the sloop all plain, no curled work upon\nher (indeed she had not much before), and no guns to be seen, away he\nwent for Surat.\nI should, indeed, have observed, that we went, some days before we\nparted, to a small sandy island close under the shore, where there was\na good cove of deep water, like a road, and out of sight of any of the\nfactories, which are here very thick upon the coast. Here we shifted the\nloading of the sloop, and put into her such things only as we had a mind\nto dispose of there, which was indeed little but nutmegs and cloves, but\nchiefly the former; and from thence William and his two Quakers, with\nabout eighteen men in the sloop, went away to Surat, and came to an\nanchor at a distance from the factory.\nWilliam used such caution that he found means to go on shore himself,\nand the doctor, as he called him, in a boat which came on board them\nto sell fish, rowed with only Indians of the country, which boat he\nafterwards hired to carry him on board again. It was not long that they\nwere on shore, but that they found means to get acquaintance with some\nEnglishmen, who, though they lived there, and perhaps were the company's\nservants at first, yet appeared then to be traders for themselves, in\nwhatever coast business especially came in their way; and the doctor was\nmade the first to pick acquaintance; so he recommended his friend, the\nsupercargo, till, by degrees, the merchants were as fond of the bargain\nas our men were of the merchants, only that the cargo was a little too\nmuch for them.\nHowever, this did not prove a difficulty long with them, for the next\nday they brought two more merchants, English also, into their bargain,\nand, as William could perceive by their discourse, they resolved, if\nthey bought them, to carry them to the Gulf of Persia upon their\nown accounts. William took the hint, and, as he told me afterwards,\nconcluded we might carry them there as well as they. But this was not\nWilliam's present business; he had here no less than three-and-thirty\nton of nuts and eighteen ton of cloves. There was a good quantity of\nmace among the nutmegs, but we did not stand to make much allowance. In\nshort, they bargained, and the merchants, who would gladly have bought\nsloop and all, gave William directions, and two men for pilots, to go\nto a creek about six leagues from the factory, where they brought boats,\nand unloaded the whole cargo, and paid William very honestly for it; the\nwhole parcel amounting, in money, to about thirty-five thousand pieces\nof eight, besides some goods of value, which William was content to\ntake, and two large diamonds, worth about three hundred pounds sterling.\nWhen they paid the money, William invited them on board the sloop, where\nthey came; and the merry old Quaker diverted them exceedingly with his\ntalk, and \"thee'd\" them and \"thou'd\" them till he made them so drunk\nthat they could not go on shore for that night.\nThey would fain have known who our people were, and whence they came;\nbut not a man in the sloop would answer them to any question they asked,\nbut in such a manner as let them think themselves bantered and jested\nwith. However, in discourse, William said they were able men for any\ncargo we could have brought them, and that they would have bought twice\nas much spice if we had had it. He ordered the merry captain to tell\nthem that they had another sloop that lay at Margaon, and that had a\ngreat quantity of spice on board also; and that, if it was not sold when\nhe went back (for that thither he was bound), he would bring her up.\nTheir new chaps were so eager, that they would have bargained with the\nold captain beforehand. \"Nay, friend,\" said he, \"I will not trade with\nthee unsight and unseen; neither do I know whether the master of the\nsloop may not have sold his loading already to some merchants of Salsat;\nbut if he has not when I come to him, I think to bring him up to thee.\"\nThe doctor had his employment all this while, as well as William and\nthe old captain, for he went on shore several times a day in the Indian\nboat, and brought fresh provisions for the sloop, which the men had need\nenough of. He brought, in particular, seventeen large casks of arrack,\nas big as butts, besides smaller quantities, a quantity of rice, and\nabundance of fruits, mangoes, pompions, and such things, with fowls and\nfish. He never came on board but he was deep laden; for, in short, he\nbought for the ship as well as for themselves; and, particularly, they\nhalf-loaded the ship with rice and arrack, with some hogs, and six\nor seven cows, alive; and thus, being well victualled, and having\ndirections for coming again, they returned to us.\nWilliam was always the lucky welcome messenger to us, but never more\nwelcome to us than now; for where we had thrust in the ship, we could\nget nothing, except a few mangoes and roots, being not willing to make\nany steps into the country, or make ourselves known till we had news of\nour sloop; and indeed our men's patience was almost tired, for it\nwas seventeen days that William spent upon this enterprise, and well\nbestowed too.\nWhen he came back we had another conference upon the subject of trade,\nnamely, whether we should send the best of our spices, and other goods\nwe had in the ship, to Surat, or whether we should go up to the Gulf of\nPersia ourselves, where it was probable we might sell them as well as\nthe English merchants of Surat. William was for going ourselves, which,\nby the way, was from the good, frugal, merchant-like temper of the man,\nwho was for the best of everything; but here I overruled William, which\nI very seldom took upon me to do; but I told him, that, considering our\ncircumstances, it was much better for us to sell all our cargoes here,\nthough we made but half-price of them, than to go with them to the Gulf\nof Persia, where we should run a greater risk, and where people would be\nmuch more curious and inquisitive into things than they were here, and\nwhere it would not be so easy to manage them, seeing they traded freely\nand openly there, not by stealth, as those men seemed to do; and,\nbesides, if they suspected anything, it would be much more difficult for\nus to retreat, except by mere force, than here, where we were upon the\nhigh sea as it were, and could be gone whenever we pleased, without any\ndisguise, or, indeed, without the least appearance of being pursued,\nnone knowing where to look for us.\nMy apprehensions prevailed with William, whether my reasons did or no,\nand he submitted; and we resolved to try another ship's loading to the\nsame merchants. The main business was to consider how to get off that\ncircumstance that had exposed them to the English merchants, namely that\nit was our other sloop; but this the old Quaker pilot undertook; for\nbeing, as I said, an excellent mimic himself, it was the easier for\nhim to dress up the sloop in new clothes; and first, he put on all the\ncarved work he had taken off before; her stern, which was painted of\na dumb white or dun colour before, all flat, was now all lacquered and\nblue, and I know not how many gay figures in it; as to her quarter, the\ncarpenters made her a neat little gallery on either side; she had twelve\nguns put into her, and some petereroes upon her gunnel, none of which\nwere there before; and to finish her new habit or appearance, and make\nher change complete, he ordered her sails to be altered; and as she\nsailed before with a half-sprit, like a yacht, she sailed now with\nsquare-sail and mizzen-mast, like a ketch; so that, in a word, she was a\nperfect cheat, disguised in everything that a stranger could be supposed\nto take any notice of that had never had but one view, for they had been\nbut once on board.\nIn this mean figure the sloop returned; she had a new man put into her\nfor captain, one we knew how to trust; and the old pilot appearing only\nas a passenger, the doctor and William acting as the supercargoes, by a\nformal procuration from one Captain Singleton, and all things ordered in\nform.\nWe had a complete loading for the sloop; for, besides a very great\nquantity of nutmegs and cloves, mace, and some cinnamon, she had\non board some goods which we took in as we lay about the Philippine\nIslands, while we waited as looking for purchase.\nWilliam made no difficulty of selling this cargo also, and in about\ntwenty days returned again, freighted with all necessary provisions for\nour voyage, and for a long time; and, as I say, we had a great deal of\nother goods: he brought us back about three-and-thirty thousand pieces\nof eight, and some diamonds, which, though William did not pretend to\nmuch skill in, yet he made shift to act so as not to be imposed upon,\nthe merchants he had to deal with, too, being very fair men.\nThey had no difficulty at all with these merchants, for the prospect\nthey had of gain made them not at all inquisitive, nor did they make the\nleast discovery of the sloop; and as to the selling them spices which\nwere fetched so far from thence, it seems it was not so much a novelty\nthere as we believed, for the Portuguese had frequently vessels which\ncame from Macao in China, who brought spices, which they bought of\nthe Chinese traders, who again frequently dealt among the Dutch Spice\nIslands, and received spices in exchange for such goods as they carried\nfrom China.\nThis might be called, indeed, the only trading voyage we had made; and\nnow we were really very rich, and it came now naturally before us to\nconsider whither we should go next. Our proper delivery port, as we\nought to have called it, was at Madagascar, in the Bay of Mangahelly;\nbut William took me by myself into the cabin of the sloop one day,\nand told me he wanted to talk seriously with me a little; so we shut\nourselves in, and William began with me.\n\"Wilt thou give me leave,\" says William, \"to talk plainly with thee upon\nthy present circumstances, and thy future prospect of living? and wilt\nthou promise, on thy word, to take nothing ill of me?\"\n\"With all my heart,\" said I. \"William, I have always found your advice\ngood, and your designs have not only been well laid, but your counsel\nhas been very lucky to us; and, therefore, say what you will, I promise\nyou I will not take it ill.\"\n\"But that is not all my demand,\" says William; \"if thou dost not like\nwhat I am going to propose to thee, thou shalt promise me not to make it\npublic among the men.\"\n\"I will not, William,\" says I, \"upon my word;\" and swore to him, too,\nvery heartily.\n\"Why, then,\" says William, \"I have but one thing more to article with\nthee about, and that is, that thou wilt consent that if thou dost not\napprove of it for thyself, thou wilt yet consent that I shall put so\nmuch of it in practice as relates to myself and my new comrade doctor,\nso that it be nothing to thy detriment and loss.\"\n\"In anything,\" says I, \"William, but leaving me, I will; but I cannot\npart with you upon any terms whatever.\"\n\"Well,\" says William, \"I am not designing to part from thee, unless it\nis thy own doing. But assure me in all these points, and I will tell my\nmind freely.\"\nSo I promised him everything he desired of me in the solemnest manner\npossible, and so seriously and frankly withal, that William made no\nscruple to open his mind to me.\n\"Why, then, in the first place,\" says William, \"shall I ask thee if thou\ndost not think thou and all thy men are rich enough, and have really\ngotten as much wealth together (by whatsoever way it has been gotten,\nthat is not the question) as we all know what to do with?\"\n\"Why, truly, William,\" said I, \"thou art pretty right; I think we have\nhad pretty good luck.\"\n\"Well, then,\" says William, \"I would ask whether, if thou hast gotten\nenough, thou hast any thought of leaving off this trade; for most people\nleave off trading when they are satisfied of getting, and are rich\nenough; for nobody trades for the sake of trading; much less do men rob\nfor the sake of thieving.\"\n\"Well, William,\" says I, \"now I perceive what it is thou art driving at.\nI warrant you,\" says I, \"you begin to hanker after home.\"\n\"Why, truly,\" says William, \"thou hast said it, and so I hope thou dost\ntoo. It is natural for most men that are abroad to desire to come home\nagain at last, especially when they are grown rich, and when they are\n(as thou ownest thyself to be) rich enough, and so rich as they know not\nwhat to do with more if they had it.\"\n\"Well, William,\" said I, \"but now you think you have laid your\npreliminary at first so home that I should have nothing to say; that is,\nthat when I had got money enough, it would be natural to think of going\nhome. But you have not explained what you mean by home, and there you\nand I shall differ. Why, man, I am at home; here is my habitation; I\nnever had any other in my lifetime; I was a kind of charity school boy;\nso that I can have no desire of going anywhere for being rich or poor,\nfor I have nowhere to go.\"\n\"Why,\" says William, looking a little confused, \"art not thou an\nEnglishman?\"\n\"Yes,\" says I, \"I think so: you see I speak English; but I came out of\nEngland a child, and never was in it but once since I was a man; and\nthen I was cheated and imposed upon, and used so ill that I care not if\nI never see it more.\"\n\"Why, hast thou no relations or friends there?\" says he; \"no\nacquaintance--none that thou hast any kindness or any remains of respect\nfor?\"\n\"Not I, William,\" said I; \"no more than I have in the court of the Great\nMogul.\"\n\"Nor any kindness for the country where thou wast born?\" says William.\n\"Not I, any more than for the island of Madagascar, nor so much neither;\nfor that has been a fortunate island to me more than once, as thou\nknowest, William,\" said I.\nWilliam was quite stunned at my discourse, and held his peace; and I\nsaid to him, \"Go on, William; what hast thou to say farther? for I hear\nyou have some project in your head,\" says I; \"come, let's have it out.\"\n\"Nay,\" says William, \"thou hast put me to silence, and all I had to say\nis overthrown; all my projects are come to nothing, and gone.\"\n\"Well, but, William,\" said I, \"let me hear what they were; for though\nit is so that what I have to aim at does not look your way, and though\nI have no relation, no friend, no acquaintance in England, yet I do not\nsay I like this roving, cruising life so well as never to give it over.\nLet me hear if thou canst propose to me anything beyond it.\"\n\"Certainly, friend,\" says William, very gravely, \"there is something\nbeyond it;\" and lifting up his hands, he seemed very much affected, and\nI thought I saw tears stand in his eyes; but I, that was too hardened\na wretch to be moved with these things, laughed at him. \"What!\" says I,\n\"you mean death, I warrant you: don't you? That is beyond this trade.\nWhy, when it comes, it comes; then we are all provided for.\"\n\"Ay,\" says William, \"that is true; but it would be better that some\nthings were thought on before that came.\"\n\"Thought on!\" says I; \"what signifies thinking of it? To think of death\nis to die, and to be always thinking of it is to be all one's life long\na-dying. It is time enough to think of it when it comes.\"\nYou will easily believe I was well qualified for a pirate that could\ntalk thus. But let me leave it upon record, for the remark of other\nhardened rogues like myself,--my conscience gave me a pang that I never\nfelt before when I said, \"What signifies thinking of it?\" and told me I\nshould one day think of these words with a sad heart; but the time of my\nreflection was not yet come; so I went on.\nSays William very seriously, \"I must tell thee, friend, I am sorry to\nhear thee talk so. They that never think of dying, often die without\nthinking of it.\"\nI carried on the jesting way a while farther, and said, \"Prithee, do not\ntalk of dying; how do we know we shall ever die?\" and began to laugh.\n\"I need not answer thee to that,\" says William; \"it is not my place to\nreprove thee, who art commander over me here; but I would rather thou\nwouldst talk otherwise of death; it is a coarse thing.\"\n\"Say anything to me, William,\" said I; \"I will take it kindly.\" I began\nnow to be very much moved at his discourse.\nSays William (tears running down his face), \"It is because men live\nas if they were never to die, that so many die before they know how\nto live. But it was not death that I meant when I said that there was\nsomething to be thought of beyond this way of living.\"\n\"Why, William,\" said I, \"what was that?\"\n\"It was repentance,\" says he.\n\"Why,\" says I, \"did you ever know a pirate repent?\"\nAt this he startled a little, and returned, \"At the gallows I have\n[known] one before, and I hope thou wilt be the second.\"\nHe spoke this very affectionately, with an appearance of concern for me.\n\"Well, William,\" says I, \"I thank you; and I am not so senseless of\nthese things, perhaps, as I make myself seem to be. But come, let me\nhear your proposal.\"\n\"My proposal,\" says William, \"is for thy good as well as my own. We may\nput an end to this kind of life, and repent; and I think the fairest\noccasion offers for both, at this very time, that ever did, or ever\nwill, or, indeed, can happen again.\"\n\"Look you, William,\" says I; \"let me have your proposal for putting an\nend to our present way of living first, for that is the case before\nus, and you and I will talk of the other afterwards. I am not so\ninsensible,\" said I, \"as you may think me to be. But let us get out of\nthis hellish condition we are in first.\"\n\"Nay,\" says William, \"thou art in the right there; we must never talk of\nrepenting while we continue pirates.\"\n\"Well,\" says I, \"William, that's what I meant; for if we must not\nreform, as well as be sorry for what is done, I have no notion what\nrepentance means; indeed, at best I know little of the matter; but the\nnature of the thing seems to tell me that the first step we have to take\nis to break off this wretched course; and I'll begin there with you,\nwith all my heart.\"\nI could see by his countenance that William was thoroughly pleased with\nthe offer; and if he had tears in-his eyes before, he had more now; but\nit was from quite a different passion; for he was so swallowed up with\njoy he could not speak.\n\"Come, William,\" says I, \"thou showest me plain enough thou hast an\nhonest meaning; dost thou think it practicable for us to put an end to\nour unhappy way of living here, and get off?\"\n\"Yes,\" says he, \"I think it very practicable for me; whether it is for\nthee or no, that will depend upon thyself.\"\n\"Well,\" says I, \"I give you my word, that as I have commanded you all\nalong, from the time I first took you on board, so you shall command me\nfrom this hour, and everything you direct me I'll do.\"\n\"Wilt thou leave it all to me? Dost thou say this freely?\"\n\"Yes, William,\" said I, \"freely; and I'll perform it faithfully.\"\n\"Why, then,\" says William, \"my scheme is this: We are now at the mouth\nof the Gulf of Persia; we have sold so much of our cargo here at Surat,\nthat we have money enough; send me away for Bassorah with the sloop,\nladen with the China goods we have on board, which will make another\ngood cargo, and I'll warrant thee I'll find means, among the English and\nDutch merchants there, to lodge a quantity of goods and money also as\na merchant, so as we will be able to have recourse to it again upon any\noccasion, and when I come home we will contrive the rest; and, in the\nmeantime, do you bring the ship's crew to take a resolution to go to\nMadagascar as soon as I return.\"\nI told him I thought he need not go so far as Bassorah, but might run\ninto Gombroon, or to Ormuz, and pretend the same business.\n\"No,\" says he, \"I cannot act with the same freedom there, because\nthe Company's factories are there, and I may be laid hold of there on\npretence of interloping.\"\n\"Well, but,\" said I, \"you may go to Ormuz, then; for I am loth to\npart with you so long as to go to the bottom of the Persian Gulf.\" He\nreturned, that I should leave it to him to do as he should see cause.\nWe had taken a large sum of money at Surat, so that we had near a\nhundred thousand pounds in money at our command, but on board the great\nship we had still a great deal more.\nI ordered him publicly to keep the money on board which he had, and to\nbuy up with it a quantity of ammunition, if he could get it, and so to\nfurnish us for new exploits; and, in the meantime, I resolved to get a\nquantity of gold and some jewels, which I had on board the great ship,\nand place them so that I might carry them off without notice as soon as\nhe came back; and so, according to William's directions, I left him\nto go the voyage, and I went on board the great ship, in which we had\nindeed an immense treasure.\nWe waited no less than two months for William's return, and indeed\nI began to be very uneasy about William, sometimes thinking he had\nabandoned me, and that he might have used the same artifice to have\nengaged the other men to comply with him, and so they were gone away\ntogether; and it was but three days before his return that I was just\nupon the point of resolving to go away to Madagascar, and give him over;\nbut the old surgeon, who mimicked the Quaker and passed for the master\nof the sloop at Surat, persuaded me against that, for which good advice\nand apparent faithfulness in what he had been trusted with, I made him a\nparty to my design, and he proved very honest.\nAt length William came back, to our inexpressible joy, and brought a\ngreat many necessary things with him; as, particularly, he brought sixty\nbarrels of powder, some iron shot, and about thirty ton of lead; also\nhe brought a great deal of provisions; and, in a word, William gave me\na public account of his voyage, in the hearing of whoever happened to be\nupon the quarter-deck, that no suspicions might be found about us.\nAfter all was done, William moved that he might go up again, and that\nI would go with him; named several things which we had on board that he\ncould not sell there; and, particularly, told us he had been obliged to\nleave several things there, the caravans being not come in; and that he\nhad engaged to come back again with goods.\nThis was what I wanted. The men were eager for his going, and\nparticularly because he told them they might load the sloop back with\nrice and provisions; but I seemed backward to going, when the old\nsurgeon stood up and persuaded me to go, and with many arguments pressed\nme to it; as, particularly, if I did not go, there would be no order,\nand several of the men might drop away, and perhaps betray all the rest;\nand that they should not think it safe for the sloop to go again if I\ndid not go; and to urge me to it, he offered himself to go with me.\nUpon these considerations I seemed to be over-persuaded to go, and all\nthe company seemed to be better satisfied when I had consented; and,\naccordingly, we took all the powder, lead, and iron out of the sloop\ninto the great ship, and all the other things that were for the ship's\nuse, and put in some bales of spices and casks or frails of cloves, in\nall about seven ton, and some other goods, among the bales of which I\nhad conveyed all my private treasure, which, I assure you, was of no\nsmall value, and away I went.\nAt going off I called a council of all the officers in the ship to\nconsider in what place they should wait for me, and how long, and we\nappointed the ship to stay eight-and-twenty days at a little island on\nthe Arabian side of the Gulf, and that, if the sloop did not come in\nthat time, they should sail to another island to the west of that place,\nand wait there fifteen days more, and that then, if the sloop did not\ncome, they should conclude some accident must have happened, and the\nrendezvous should be at Madagascar.\nBeing thus resolved, we left the ship, which both William and I, and\nthe surgeon, never intended to see any more. We steered directly for the\nGulf, and through to Bassorah, or Balsara. This city of Balsara lies\nat some distance from the place where our sloop lay, and the river\nnot being very safe, and we but ill acquainted with it, having but an\nordinary pilot, we went on shore at a village where some merchants live,\nand which is very populous, for the sake of small vessels riding there.\nHere we stayed and traded three or four days, landing all our bales and\nspices, and indeed the whole cargo that was of any considerable value,\nwhich we chose to do rather than go up immediately to Balsara till the\nproject we had laid was put in execution.\nAfter we had bought several goods, and were preparing to buy several\nothers, the boat being on shore with twelve men, myself, William, the\nsurgeon, and one fourth man, whom we had singled out, we contrived\nto send a Turk just at the dusk of the evening with a letter to the\nboatswain, and giving the fellow a charge to run with all possible\nspeed, we stood at a small distance to observe the event. The contents\nof the letter were thus written by the old doctor:--\n\"BOATSWAIN THOMAS,--We are all betrayed. For God's sake make off with\nthe boat, and get on board, or you are all lost. The captain, William\nthe Quaker, and George the reformade are seized and carried away: I am\nescaped and hid, but cannot stir out; if I do I am a dead man. As\nsoon as you are on board cut or slip, and make sail for your lives.\nAdieu.--R.S.\"\nWe stood undiscovered, as above, it being the dusk of the evening, and\nsaw the Turk deliver the letter, and in three minutes we saw all the men\nhurry into the boat and put off, and no sooner were they on board than\nthey took the hint, as we supposed, for the next morning they were out\nof sight, and we never heard tale or tidings of them since.\nWe were now in a good place, and in very good circumstances, for we\npassed for merchants of Persia.\nIt is not material to record here what a mass of ill-gotten wealth we\nhad got together: it will be more to the purpose to tell you that I\nbegan to be sensible of the crime of getting of it in such a manner as\nI had done; that I had very little satisfaction in the possession of\nit; and, as I told William, I had no expectation of keeping it, nor much\ndesire; but, as I said to him one day walking out into the fields near\nthe town of Bassorah, so I depended upon it that it would be the case,\nwhich you will hear presently.\nWe were perfectly secured at Bassorah, by having frighted away the\nrogues, our comrades; and we had nothing to do but to consider how to\nconvert our treasure into things proper to make us look like merchants,\nas we were now to be, and not like freebooters, as we really had been.\nWe happened very opportunely here upon a Dutchman, who had travelled\nfrom Bengal to Agra, the capital city of the Great Mogul, and from\nthence was come to the coast of Malabar by land, and got shipping,\nsomehow or other, up the Gulf; and we found his design was to go up the\ngreat river to Bagdad or Babylon, and so, by the caravan, to Aleppo and\nScanderoon. As William spoke Dutch, and was of an agreeable, insinuating\nbehaviour, he soon got acquainted with this Dutchman, and discovering\nour circumstances to one another, we found he had considerable effects\nwith him; and that he had traded long in that country, and was making\nhomeward to his own country; and that he had servants with him; one an\nArmenian, whom he had taught to speak Dutch, and who had something of\nhis own, but had a mind to travel into Europe; and the other a Dutch\nsailor, whom he had picked up by his fancy, and reposed a great trust in\nhim, and a very honest fellow he was.\nThis Dutchman was very glad of an acquaintance, because he soon found\nthat we directed our thoughts to Europe also; and as he found we were\nencumbered with goods only (for we let him know nothing of our money),\nhe readily offered us his assistance to dispose of as many of them as\nthe place we were in would put off, and his advice what to do with the\nrest.\nWhile this was doing, William and I consulted what to do with ourselves\nand what we had; and first, we resolved we would never talk seriously\nof our measures but in the open fields, where we were sure nobody could\nhear; so every evening, when the sun began to decline and the air to be\nmoderate we walked out, sometimes this way, sometimes that, to consult\nof our affairs.\nI should have observed that we had new clothed ourselves here, after\nthe Persian manner, with long vests of silk, a gown or robe of English\ncrimson cloth, very fine and handsome, and had let our beards grow so\nafter the Persian manner that we passed for Persian merchants, in view\nonly, though, by the way, we could not understand or speak one word of\nthe language of Persia, or indeed of any other but English and Dutch;\nand of the latter I understood very little.\nHowever, the Dutchman supplied all this for us; and as we had resolved\nto keep ourselves as retired as we could, though there were several\nEnglish merchants upon the place, yet we never acquainted ourselves with\none of them, or exchanged a word with them; by which means we prevented\ntheir inquiry of us now, or their giving any intelligence of us, if any\nnews of our landing here should happen to come, which, it was easy for\nus to know, was possible enough, if any of our comrades fell into bad\nhands, or by many accidents which we could not foresee.\nIt was during my being here, for here we stayed near two months, that\nI grew very thoughtful about my circumstances; not as to the danger,\nneither indeed were we in any, but were entirely concealed and\nunsuspected; but I really began to have other thoughts of myself, and of\nthe world, than ever I had before.\nWilliam had struck so deep into my unthinking temper with hinting to me\nthat there was something beyond all this; that the present time was the\ntime of enjoyment, but that the time of account approached; that the\nwork that remained was gentler than the labour past, viz., repentance,\nand that it was high time to think of it;--I say these, and such\nthoughts as these, engrossed my hours, and, in a word, I grew very sad.\nAs to the wealth I had, which was immensely great, it was all like dirt\nunder my feet; I had no value for it, no peace in the possession of it,\nno great concern about me for the leaving of it.\nWilliam had perceived my thoughts to be troubled and my mind heavy and\noppressed for some time; and one evening, in one of our cool walks, I\nbegan with him about the leaving our effects. William was a wise and\nwary man, and indeed all the prudentials of my conduct had for a long\ntime been owing to his advice, and so now all the methods for preserving\nour effects, and even ourselves, lay upon him; and he had been telling\nme of some of the measures he had been taking for our making homeward,\nand for the security of our wealth, when I took him very short. \"Why,\nWilliam,\" says I, \"dost thou think we shall ever be able to reach Europe\nwith all this cargo that we have about us?\"\n\"Ay,\" says William, \"without doubt, as well as other merchants with\ntheirs, as long as it is not publicly known what quantity or of what\nvalue our cargo consists.\"\n\"Why, William,\" says I, smiling, \"do you think that if there is a God\nabove, as you have so long been telling me there is, and that we must\ngive an account to Him,--I say, do you think, if He be a righteous\nJudge, He will let us escape thus with the plunder, as we may call it,\nof so many innocent people, nay, I might say nations, and not call us to\nan account for it before we can get to Europe, where we pretend to enjoy\nit?\"\nWilliam appeared struck and surprised at the question, and made no\nanswer for a great while; and I repeated the question, adding that it\nwas not to be expected.\nAfter a little pause, says William, \"Thou hast started a very weighty\nquestion, and I can make no positive answer to it; but I will state it\nthus: first, it is true that, if we consider the justice of God, we\nhave no reason to expect any protection; but as the ordinary ways of\nProvidence are out of the common road of human affairs, so we may hope\nfor mercy still upon our repentance, and we know not how good He may be\nto us; so we are to act as if we rather depended upon the last, I mean\nthe merciful part, than claimed the first, which must produce nothing\nbut judgment and vengeance.\"\n\"But hark ye, William,\" says I, \"the nature of repentance, as you have\nhinted once to me, included reformation; and we can never reform; how,\nthen, can we repent?\"\n\"Why can we never reform?\" says William.\n\"Because,\" said I, \"we cannot restore what we have taken away by rapine\nand spoil.\"\n\"It is true,\" says William, \"we never can do that, for we can never come\nto the knowledge of the owners.\"\n\"But what, then, must be done with our wealth,\" said I, \"the effects\nof plunder and rapine? If we keep it, we continue to be robbers and\nthieves; and if we quit it we cannot do justice with it, for we cannot\nrestore it to the right owners.\"\n\"Nay,\" says William, \"the answer to it is short. To quit what we have,\nand do it here, is to throw it away to those who have no claim to it,\nand to divest ourselves of it, but to do no right with it; whereas we\nought to keep it carefully together, with a resolution to do what right\nwith it we are able; and who knows what opportunity Providence may\nput into our hands to do justice, at least, to some of those we have\ninjured? So we ought, at least, to leave it to Him and go on. As it is,\nwithout doubt our present business is to go to some place of safety,\nwhere we may wait His will.\"\nThis resolution of William was very satisfying to me indeed, as, the\ntruth is, all he said, and at all times, was solid and good; and had\nnot William thus, as it were, quieted my mind, I think, verily, I was so\nalarmed at the just reason I had to expect vengeance from Heaven upon\nme for my ill-gotten wealth, that I should have run away from it as the\ndevil's goods, that I had nothing to do with, that did not belong to\nme, and that I had no right to keep, and was in certain danger of being\ndestroyed for.\nHowever, William settled my mind to more prudent steps than these, and\nI concluded that I ought, however, to proceed to a place of safety,\nand leave the event to God Almighty's mercy. But this I must leave upon\nrecord, that I had from this time no joy of the wealth I had got. I\nlooked upon it all as stolen, and so indeed the greatest part of it was.\nI looked upon it as a hoard of other men's goods, which I had robbed the\ninnocent owners of, and which I ought, in a word, to be hanged for here,\nand damned for hereafter. And now, indeed, I began sincerely to hate\nmyself for a dog; a wretch that had been a thief and a murderer; a\nwretch that was in a condition which nobody was ever in; for I had\nrobbed, and though I had the wealth by me, yet it was impossible I\nshould ever make any restitution; and upon this account it ran in my\nhead that I could never repent, for that repentance could not be sincere\nwithout restitution, and therefore must of necessity be damned. There\nwas no room for me to escape. I went about with my heart full of these\nthoughts, little better than a distracted fellow; in short, running\nheadlong into the dreadfullest despair, and premeditating nothing but\nhow to rid myself out of the world; and, indeed, the devil, if such\nthings are of the devil's immediate doing, followed his work very close\nwith me, and nothing lay upon my mind for several days but to shoot\nmyself into the head with my pistol.\nI was all this while in a vagrant life, among infidels, Turks, pagans,\nand such sort of people. I had no minister, no Christian to converse\nwith but poor William. He was my ghostly father or confessor, and he was\nall the comfort I had. As for my knowledge of religion, you have heard\nmy history. You may suppose I had not much; and as for the Word of\nGod, I do not remember that I ever read a chapter in the Bible in my\nlifetime. I was little Bob at Bussleton, and went to school to learn my\nTestament.\nHowever, it pleased God to make William the Quaker everything to me.\nUpon this occasion, I took him out one evening, as usual, and hurried\nhim away into the fields with me, in more haste than ordinary; and\nthere, in short, I told him the perplexity of my mind, and under what\nterrible temptations of the devil I had been; that I must shoot myself,\nfor I could not support the weight and terror that was upon me.\n\"Shoot yourself!\" says William; \"why, what will that do for you?\"\n\"Why,\" says I, \"it will put an end to a miserable life.\"\n\"Well,\" says William, \"are you satisfied the next will be better?\"\n\"No, no,\" says I; \"much worse, to be sure.\"\n\"Why, then,\" says he, \"shooting yourself is the devil's motion, no\ndoubt; for it is the devil of a reason, that, because thou art in an ill\ncase, therefore thou must put thyself into a worse.\"\nThis shocked my reason indeed. \"Well, but,\" says I, \"there is no bearing\nthe miserable condition I am in.\"\n\"Very well,\" says William; \"but it seems there is some bearing a worse\ncondition; and so you will shoot yourself, that you may be past remedy?\"\n\"I am past remedy already,\" says I.\n\"How do you know that?\" says he.\n\"I am satisfied of it,\" said I.\n\"Well,\" says he, \"but you are not sure; so you will shoot yourself to\nmake it certain; for though on this side death you cannot be sure you\nwill be damned at all, yet the moment you step on the other side of time\nyou are sure of it; for when it is done, it is not to be said then that\nyou will be, but that you are damned.\"\n\"Well, but,\" says William, as if he had been between jest and earnest,\n\"pray, what didst thou dream of last night?\"\n\"Why,\" said I, \"I had frightful dreams all night; and, particularly, I\ndreamed that the devil came for me, and asked me what my name was; and\nI told him. Then he asked me what trade I was. 'Trade?' says I; 'I am a\nthief, a rogue, by my calling: I am a pirate and a murderer, and ought\nto be hanged.' 'Ay, ay,' says the devil, 'so you do; and you are the\nman I looked for, and therefore come along with me.' At which I was most\nhorribly frighted, and cried out so that it waked me; and I have been in\nhorrible agony ever since.\"\n\"Very well,\" says William; \"come, give me the pistol thou talkedst of\njust now.\"\n\"Why,\" says I, \"what will you do with it?\"\n\"Do with it!\" says William. \"Why, thou needest not shoot thyself; I\nshall be obliged to do it for thee. Why, thou wilt destroy us all.\"\n\"What do you mean, William?\" said I.\n\"Mean!\" said he; \"nay, what didst thou mean, to cry out aloud in thy\nsleep, 'I am a thief, a pirate, a murderer, and ought to be hanged'?\nWhy, thou wilt ruin us all. 'Twas well the Dutchman did not understand\nEnglish. In short, I must shoot thee, to save my own life. Come, come,\"\nsays he, \"give me thy pistol.\"\nI confess this terrified me again another way, and I began to be\nsensible that, if anybody had been near me to understand English, I had\nbeen undone. The thought of shooting myself forsook me from that time;\nand I turned to William, \"You disorder me extremely, William,\" said I;\n\"why, I am never safe, nor is it safe to keep me company. What shall I\ndo? I shall betray you all.\"\n\"Come, come, friend Bob,\" says he, \"I'll put an end to it all, if you\nwill take my advice.\"\n\"How's that?\" said I.\n\"Why, only,\" says he, \"that the next time thou talkest with the devil,\nthou wilt talk a little softlier, or we shall be all undone, and you\ntoo.\"\nThis frighted me, I must confess, and allayed a great deal of the\ntrouble of mind I was in. But William, after he had done jesting with\nme, entered upon a very long and serious discourse with me about the\nnature of my circumstances, and about repentance; that it ought to be\nattended, indeed, with a deep abhorrence of the crime that I had to\ncharge myself with; but that to despair of God's mercy was no part of\nrepentance, but putting myself into the condition of the devil; indeed,\nthat I must apply myself with a sincere, humble confession of my crime,\nto ask pardon of God, whom I had offended, and cast myself upon His\nmercy, resolving to be willing to make restitution, if ever it should\nplease God to put it in my power, even to the utmost of what I had in\nthe world. And this, he told me, was the method which he had resolved\nupon himself; and in this, he told me, he had found comfort.\nI had a great deal of satisfaction in William's discourse, and it\nquieted me very much; but William was very anxious ever after about my\ntalking in my sleep, and took care to lie with me always himself, and to\nkeep me from lodging in any house where so much as a word of English was\nunderstood.\nHowever, there was not the like occasion afterward; for I was much\nmore composed in my mind, and resolved for the future to live a quite\ndifferent life from what I had done. As to the wealth I had, I looked\nupon it as nothing; I resolved to set it apart to any such opportunity\nof doing justice as God should put into my hand; and the miraculous\nopportunity I had afterwards of applying some parts of it to preserve\na ruined family, whom I had plundered, may be worth reading, if I have\nroom for it in this account.\nWith these resolutions I began to be restored to some degree of quiet\nin my mind; and having, after almost three months' stay at Bassorah,\ndisposed of some goods, but having a great quantity left, we hired\nboats according to the Dutchman's direction, and went up to Bagdad,\nor Babylon, on the river Tigris, or rather Euphrates. We had a very\nconsiderable cargo of goods with us, and therefore made a great\nfigure there, and were received with respect. We had, in particular,\ntwo-and-forty bales of Indian stuffs of sundry sorts, silks, muslins,\nand fine chintz; we had fifteen bales of very fine China silks, and\nseventy packs or bales of spices, particularly cloves and nutmegs, with\nother goods. We were bid money here for our cloves, but the Dutchman\nadvised us not to part with them, and told us we should get a better\nprice at Aleppo, or in the Levant; so we prepared for the caravan.\nWe concealed our having any gold or pearls as much as we could, and\ntherefore sold three or four bales of China silks and Indian calicoes,\nto raise money to buy camels and to pay the customs which are taken at\nseveral places, and for our provisions over the deserts.\nI travelled this journey, careless to the last degree of my goods or\nwealth, believing that, as I came by it all by rapine and violence, God\nwould direct that it should be taken from me again in the same manner;\nand, indeed, I think I might say I was very willing it should be so.\nBut, as I had a merciful Protector above me, so I had a most faithful\nsteward, counsellor, partner, or whatever I might call him, who was my\nguide, my pilot, my governor, my everything, and took care both of me\nand of all we had; and though he had never been in any of these parts\nof the world, yet he took the care of all upon him; and in about\nnine-and-fifty days we arrived from Bassorah, at the mouth of the\nriver Tigris or Euphrates, through the desert, and through Aleppo to\nAlexandria, or, as we call it, Scanderoon, in the Levant.\nHere William and I, and the other two, our faithful comrades, debated\nwhat we should do; and here William and I resolved to separate from the\nother two, they resolving to go with the Dutchman into Holland, by the\nmeans of some Dutch ship which lay then in the road. William and I told\nthem we resolved to go and settle in the Morea, which then belonged to\nthe Venetians.\nIt is true we acted wisely in it not to let them know whither we\nwent, seeing we had resolved to separate; but we took our old doctor's\ndirections how to write to him in Holland, and in England, that we might\nhave intelligence from him on occasion, and promised to give him an\naccount how to write to us, which we afterwards did, as may in time be\nmade out.\nWe stayed here some time after they were gone, till at length, not being\nthoroughly resolved whither to go till then, a Venetian ship touched at\nCyprus, and put in at Scanderoon to look for freight home. We took the\nhint, and bargaining for our passage, and the freight of our goods, we\nembarked for Venice, where, in two-and-twenty days, we arrived safe,\nwith all our treasure, and with such a cargo, take our goods and our\nmoney and our jewels together, as, I believed, was never brought into\nthe city by two single men, since the state of Venice had a being.\nWe kept ourselves here _incognito_ for a great while, passing for two\nArmenian merchants still, as we had done before; and by this time we had\ngotten so much of the Persian and Armenian jargon, which they talked at\nBassorah and Bagdad, and everywhere that we came in the country, as\nwas sufficient to make us able to talk to one another, so as not to be\nunderstood by anybody, though sometimes hardly by ourselves.\nHere we converted all our effects into money, settled our abode as for\na considerable time, and William and I, maintaining an inviolable\nfriendship and fidelity to one another, lived like two brothers; we\nneither had or sought any separate interest; we conversed seriously and\ngravely, and upon the subject of our repentance continually; we never\nchanged, that is to say, so as to leave off our Armenian garbs; and we\nwere called, at Venice, the two Grecians.\nI had been two or three times going to give a detail of our wealth, but\nit will appear incredible, and we had the greatest difficulty in the\nworld how to conceal it, being justly apprehensive lest we might be\nassassinated in that country for our treasure. At length William told me\nhe began to think now that he must never see England any more, and\nthat indeed he did not much concern himself about it; but seeing we had\ngained so great wealth, and he had some poor relations in England, if\nI was willing, he would write to know if they were living, and to know\nwhat condition they were in, and if he found such of them were alive\nas he had some thoughts about, he would, with my consent, send them\nsomething to better their condition.\nI consented most willingly; and accordingly William wrote to a sister\nand an uncle, and in about five weeks' time received an answer from them\nboth, directed to himself, under cover of a hard Armenian name that\nhe had given himself, viz., Signore Constantine Alexion of Ispahan, at\nVenice.\nIt was a very moving letter he received from his sister, who, after the\nmost passionate expressions of joy to hear he was alive, seeing she had\nlong ago had an account that he was murdered by the pirates in the West\nIndies, entreats him to let her know what circumstances he was in; tells\nhim she was not in any capacity to do anything considerable for him, but\nthat he should be welcome to her with all her heart; that she was left\na widow, with four children, but kept a little shop in the Minories, by\nwhich she made shift to maintain her family; and that she had sent him\nfive pounds, lest he should want money, in a strange country, to bring\nhim home.\nI could see the letter brought tears out of his eyes as he read it; and,\nindeed, when he showed it to me, and the little bill for five pounds,\nupon an English merchant in Venice, it brought tears out of my eyes too.\nAfter we had been both affected sufficiently with the tenderness and\nkindness of this letter, he turns to me; says he, \"What shall I do for\nthis poor woman?\" I mused a while; at last says I, \"I will tell you what\nyou shall do for her. She has sent you five pounds, and she has four\nchildren, and herself, that is five; such a sum, from a poor woman in\nher circumstances, is as much as five thousand pounds is to us; you\nshall send her a bill of exchange for five thousand pounds English\nmoney, and bid her conceal her surprise at it till she hears from you\nagain; but bid her leave off her shop, and go and take a house somewhere\nin the country, not far off from London, and stay there, in a moderate\nfigure, till she hears from you again.\"\n\"Now,\" says William, \"I perceive by it that you have some thoughts of\nventuring into England.\"\n\"Indeed, William,\" said I, \"you mistake me; but it presently occurred to\nme that you should venture, for what have you done that you may not be\nseen there? Why should I desire to keep you from your relations, purely\nto keep me company?\"\nWilliam looked very affectionately upon me. \"Nay,\" says he, \"we have\nembarked together so long, and come together so far, I am resolved I\nwill never part with thee as long as I live, go where thou wilt, or stay\nwhere thou wilt; and as for my sister,\" said William, \"I cannot send her\nsuch a sum of money, for whose is all this money we have? It is most of\nit thine.\"\n\"No, William,\" said I, \"there is not a penny of it mine but what is\nyours too, and I won't have anything but an equal share with you, and\ntherefore you shall send it to her; if not, I will send it.\"\n\"Why,\" says William, \"it will make the poor woman distracted; she will\nbe so surprised she will go out of her wits.\"\n\"Well,\" said I, \"William, you may do it prudently; send her a bill\nbacked of a hundred pounds, and bid her expect more in a post or two,\nand that you will send her enough to live on without keeping shop, and\nthen send her more.\"\nAccordingly William sent her a very kind letter, with a bill upon a\nmerchant in London for a hundred and sixty pounds, and bid her comfort\nherself with the hope that he should be able in a little time to send\nher more. About ten days after, he sent her another bill of five hundred\nand forty pounds; and a post or two after, another for three hundred\npounds, making in all a thousand pounds; and told her he would send her\nsufficient to leave off her shop, and directed her to take a house as\nabove.\nHe waited then till he received an answer to all the three letters, with\nan account that she had received the money, and, which I did not expect,\nthat she had not let any other acquaintance know that she had received\na shilling from anybody, or so much as that he was alive, and would not\ntill she had heard again.\nWhen he showed me this letter, \"Well, William,\" said I, \"this woman is\nfit to be trusted with life or anything; send her the rest of the five\nthousand pounds, and I'll venture to England with you, to this woman's\nhouse, whenever you will.\"\nIn a word, we sent her five thousand pounds in good bills; and she\nreceived them very punctually, and in a little time sent her brother\nword that she had pretended to her uncle that she was sickly and could\nnot carry on the trade any longer, and that she had taken a large house\nabout four miles from London, under pretence of letting lodgings for\nher livelihood; and, in short, intimated as if she understood that he\nintended to come over to be _incognito_, assuring him he should be as\nretired as he pleased.\nThis was opening the very door for us that we thought had been\neffectually shut for this life; and, in a word, we resolved to venture,\nbut to keep ourselves entirely concealed, both as to name and every\nother circumstance; and accordingly William sent his sister word how\nkindly he took her prudent steps, and that she had guessed right that\nhe desired to be retired, and that he obliged her not to increase her\nfigure, but live private, till she might perhaps see him.\nHe was going to send the letter away. \"Come, William,\" said I, \"you\nshan't send her an empty letter; tell her you have a friend coming with\nyou that must be as retired as yourself, and I'll send her five thousand\npounds more.\"\nSo, in short, we made this poor woman's family rich; and yet, when it\ncame to the point, my heart failed me, and I durst not venture; and for\nWilliam, he would not stir without me; and so we stayed about two years\nafter this, considering what we should do.\nYou may think, perhaps, that I was very prodigal of my ill-gotten goods,\nthus to load a stranger with my bounty, and give a gift like a prince to\none that had been able to merit nothing of me, or indeed know me; but\nmy condition ought to be considered in this case; though I had money to\nprofusion, yet I was perfectly destitute of a friend in the world, to\nhave the least obligation or assistance from, or knew not either where\nto dispose or trust anything I had while I lived, or whom to give it to\nif I died.\nWhen I had reflected upon the manner of my getting of it, I was\nsometimes for giving it all to charitable uses, as a debt due to\nmankind, though I was no Roman Catholic, and not at all of the opinion\nthat it would purchase me any repose to my soul; but I thought, as it\nwas got by a general plunder, and which I could make no satisfaction\nfor, it was due to the community, and I ought to distribute it for the\ngeneral good. But still I was at a loss how, and where, and by whom to\nsettle this charity, not daring to go home to my own country, lest some\nof my comrades, strolled home, should see and detect me, and for the\nvery spoil of my money, or the purchase of his own pardon, betray and\nexpose me to an untimely end.\nBeing thus destitute, I say, of a friend, I pitched thus upon William's\nsister; the kind step of hers to her brother, whom she thought to be in\ndistress, signifying a generous mind and a charitable disposition; and\nhaving resolved to make her the object of my first bounty, I did not\ndoubt but I should purchase something of a refuge for myself, and a kind\nof a centre, to which I should tend in my future actions; for really\na man that has a subsistence, and no residence, no place that has a\nmagnetic influence upon his affections, is in one of the most odd,\nuneasy conditions in the world, nor is it in the power of all his money\nto make it up to him.\nIt was, as I told you, two years and upwards that we remained at Venice\nand thereabout, in the greatest hesitation imaginable, irresolute and\nunfixed to the last degree. William's sister importuned us daily to come\nto England, and wondered we should not dare to trust her, whom we had to\nsuch a degree obliged to be faithful; and in a manner lamented her being\nsuspected by us.\nAt last I began to incline; and I said to William, \"Come, brother\nWilliam,\" said I (for ever since our discourse at Bassorah I called him\nbrother), \"if you will agree to two or three things with me, I'll go\nhome to England with all my heart.\"\nSays William, \"Let me know what they are.\"\n\"Why, first,\" says I, \"you shall not disclose yourself to any of your\nrelations in England but your sister--no, not one; secondly, we will\nnot shave off our mustachios or beards\" (for we had all along worn our\nbeards after the Grecian manner), \"nor leave off our long vests, that we\nmay pass for Grecians and foreigners; thirdly, that we shall never speak\nEnglish in public before anybody, your sister excepted; fourthly, that\nwe will always live together and pass for brothers.\"\nWilliam said he would agree to them all with all his heart, but that the\nnot speaking English would be the hardest, but he would do his best for\nthat too; so, in a word, we agreed to go from Venice to Naples, where we\nconverted a large sum of money into bales of silk, left a large sum in a\nmerchant's hands at Venice, and another considerable sum at Naples, and\ntook bills of exchange for a great deal too; and yet we came with such\na cargo to London as few American merchants had done for some years,\nfor we loaded in two ships seventy-three bales of thrown silk, besides\nthirteen bales of wrought silks, from the duchy of Milan, shipped at\nGenoa, with all which I arrived safely; and some time after I married my\nfaithful protectress, William's sister, with whom I am much more happy\nthan I deserve.\nAnd now, having so plainly told you that I am come to England, after I\nhave so boldly owned what life I have led abroad, it is time to leave\noff, and say no more for the present, lest some should be willing to\ninquire too nicely after your old friend CAPTAIN BOB.\n[Transcriber's Note: The words \"thae\" (Scottish dialect for \"those\") and\n\"Geat Mogul\" (\"Great\" may be meant) do occur as such in the print copy.]", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Life, Adventures & Piracies of the Famous Captain Singleton\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "ROBINSON CRUSOE (1808) ***\nTHE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE\nby DANIEL DE FOE\nLondon.\n[Illustration: I had one labour to make me a Canoe,\nwhich at last I finished.]\nTHE LIFE OF DE FOE\nDaniel De Foe was descended from a respectable family in the county of\nNorthampton, and born in London, about the year 1663. His father, James\nFoe, was a butcher, in the parish of St. Giles\u2019s, Cripplegate, and a\nprotestant dissenter. Why the subject of this memoir prefixed the _De_\nto his family name cannot now be ascertained, nor did he at any period\nof his life think it necessary to give his reasons to the public. The\npolitical scribblers of the day, however, thothe utmost hazard theught proper to remedy this\nlack of information, and accused him of possessing so little of the\n_amor patriae_, as to make the addition in order that he might not be\ntaken for an Englishman; though this idea could have had no other\nfoundation than the circumstance of his having, in consequence of his\nzeal for King William, attacked the prejudices of his countrymen in his\n\u201cTrue-born Englishman.\u201d\nAfter receiving a good education at an academy at Newington, young De\nFoe, before he had attained his twenty-first year, commenced his career\nas an author, by writing a pamphlet against a very prevailing sentiment\nin favour of the Turks who were at that time laying siege to Vienna.\nThis production, being very inferior to those of his maturer years, was\nvery little read, and the indignant author, despairing of success with\nhis pen, had recourse to the sword; or, as he termed it, when boasting\nof the exploit in his latter years, \u201cdisplayed his attachment to\nliberty, and protestantism,\u201d by joining the ill-advised insurrection\nunder the Duke of Monmouth, in the west. On the failure of that\nunfortunate enterprise, he returned again to the metropolis; and it is\nnot improbable, but that the circumstance of his being a native of\nLondon, and his person not much known in that part of the kingdom where\nthe rebellion took place, might facilitate his escape, and be the means\nof preventing his being brought to trial for his share in the\ntransaction. With the professions of a writer and a soldier, Mr. De Foe,\nin the year 1685, joined that of a trader; he was first engaged as a\nhosier, in Cornhill, and afterwards as a maker of bricks and pantiles,\nnear Tilbury Fort, in Essex; but in consequence of spending those hours\nin the hilarity of the tavern which he ought to have employed in the\ncalculations of the counting-house, his commercial schemes proved\nunsuccessful; and in 1694 he was obliged to abscond from his creditors,\nnot failing to attribute those misfortunes to the war and the severity\nof the times, which were doubtless owing to his own misconduct. It is\nmuch to his credit however, that after having been freed from his debts\nby composition, and being in prosperous circumstances from King\nWilliam\u2019s favour, he voluntarily paid most of his creditors both the\nprincipal and interest of their claims. This is such an example of\nhonesty as it would be unjust to De Foe and to the world to conceal. The\namount of the sums thus paid must have been very considerable, as he\nafterwards feelingly mentions to Lord Haversham, who had reproached him\nwith covetousness; \u201cWith a numerous family, and no helps but my own\nindustry, I have forced my way through a sea of misfortunes, and reduced\nmy debts, exclusive of composition, from seventeen thousand to less than\nfive thousand pounds.\u201d\nAt the beginning of the year 1700, Mr. De Foe published a satire in\nverse, which excited very considerable attention, called the \u201cTrue-born\nEnglishman.\u201d Its purpose was to furnish a reply to those who were\ncontinually abusing King William and some of his friends as\n_foreigners_, by shewing that the present race of Englishmen was a mixed\nand heterogeneous brood, scarcely any of which could lay claim to native\npurity of blood. The satire was in many parts very severe; and though\nit gave high offence, it claimed a considerable share of the public\nattention. The reader will perhaps be gratified by a specimen of this\nproduction, wherein he endeavours to account for\u2014\n     \u201cWhat makes this discontented land appear\n     Less happy now in times of peace, than war;\n     Why civil feuds disturb the nation more,\n     Than all our bloody wars had done before:\n     Fools out of favour grudge at knaves in place,\n     And men are always honest in disgrace:\n     The court preferments make men knaves in course,\n     But they, who would be in them, would be worse.\n     \u2019Tis not at foreigners that we repine,\n     Would foreigners their perquisites resign:\n     The grand contention\u2019s plainly to be seen,\n     To get some men put out, and some put in.\u201d\nIt will be immediately perceived that De Foe could have no pretentious\nto the character of a _poet_; but he has, notwithstanding, some nervous\nand well-versified lines, and in choice of subject and moral he is in\ngeneral excellent. The True-born Englishman concludes thus:\n     Could but our ancestors retrieve their fate,\n     And see their offspring thus degenerate;\n     How we contend for birth and names unknown,\n     And build on their past actions, not our own;\n     They\u2019d cancel records, and their tombs deface,\n     And openly disown the vile, degenerate race.\n     For fame of families is all a cheat;\n     \u2019TIS PERSONAL VIRTUE ONLY MAKES US GREAT.\nFor this defence of foreigners De Foe was amply rewarded by King\nWilliam, who not only ordered him a pension, but as his opponents\ndenominated it, appointed him _pamphlet-writer general to the court_; an\noffice for which he was peculiarly well calculated, possessing, with a\nstrong mind and a ready wit, that kind of yielding conscience which\nallowed him to support the measures of his benefactors though convinced\nthey were injurious to his country. De Foe now retired to Newington\nwith his family, and for a short time lived at ease; but the death of\nhis royal patron deprived him of a generous protector, and opened a\nscene of sorrow which probably embittered his future life.\nHe had always discovered a great inclination to engage in religious\ncontroversy, and the furious contest, civil and ecclesiastical, which\nensued on the accession of Queen Anne, gave him an opportunity of\ngratifying his favourite passion. He therefore published a tract\nentitled \u201cThe shortest Way with the Dissenters, or Proposals for the\nEstablishment of the Church,\u201d which contained an ironical recommendation\nof persecution, but written in so serious a strain, that many persons,\nparticularly Dissenters, at first mistook its real intention. The high\nchurch party however saw, and felt the ridicule, and, by their\ninfluence, a prosecution was commenced against him, and a proclamation\npublished in the Gazette, offering a reward for his apprehension[1].\nWhen De Foe found with how much rigour himself and his pamphlet were\nabout to be treated, he at first secreted himself; but his printer and\nbookseller being taken into custody, he surrendered, being resolved, as\nhe expresses it, \u201cto throw himself upon the favour of government, rather\nthan that others should be ruined for his mistakes.\u201d In July, 1703, he\nwas brought to trial, found guilty, and sentenced to be imprisoned, to\nstand in the pillory, and to pay a fine of two hundred marks. He\nunderwent the infamous part of the punishment with great fortitude, and\nit seems to have been generally thought that he was treated with\nunreasonable severity. So far was he from being ashamed of his fate\nhimself, that he wrote a hymn to the pillory, which thus ends, alluding\nto his accusers:\n     Tell them, the men that plac\u2019d him here\n     Are scandals to the times;\n     Are at a loss to find his guilt,\n     And can\u2019t commit his crimes.\nPope, who has thought fit to introduce him in his Dunciad (probably from\nno other reason than party difference) characterises him in the\nfollowing line:\n     Earless on high stood unabash\u2019d De Foe.\n[Footnote 1: St. James\u2019s, January 10, 1702-3. \u201cWhereas Daniel De Foe,\nalias De Fooe, is charged with writing a scandalous and seditious\npamphlet, entitled \u2018The shortest Way with the Dissenters:\u2019 he is a\nmiddle-sized spare man, about 40 years old, of a brown complexion, and\ndark-brown coloured hair, but wears a wig, a hooked nose, a sharp chin,\ngrey eyes, and a large mole near his mouth, was born in London, and for\nmany years was a hose-factor, in Freeman\u2019s Yard, in Cornhill, and now is\nowner of the brick and pantile works near Tilbury Fort, in Essex;\nwhoever shall discover the said Daniel De Foe, to one of her Majesty\u2019s\nPrincipal Secretaries of State, or any of her Majesty\u2019s Justices of\nPeace, so as he may be apprehended, shall have a reward of 50_l_. which\nher Majesty has ordered immediately to be paid upon such discovery.\u201d\n_London Gaz_. No. 3679.]\nThis is one of those instances of injustice and malignity which so\nfrequently occur in the Dunciad, and which reflect more dishonour on the\nauthor than on the parties traduced. De Foe lay friendless and\ndistressed in Newgate, his family ruined, and himself without hopes of\ndeliverance, till Sir Robert Harley, who approved of his principles, and\nforesaw that during a factious age such a genius could be converted to\nmany uses, represented his unmerited sufferings to the Queen, and at\nlength procured his release. The treasurer, Lord Godolphin, also sent a\nconsiderable sum to his wife and family, and to him money to pay his\nfine and the expense of his discharge. Gratitude and fidelity are\ninseparable from an honest man; and it was this benevolent act that\nprompted De Foe to support Harley, with his able and ingenious pen, when\nAnne lay lifeless, and his benefactor in the vicissitude of party was\npersecuted by faction, and overpowered, though not conquered,\nby violence.\nThe talents and perseverance of De Foe began now to be properly\nestimated, and as a firm supporter of the administration, he was sent\nby Lord Godolphin to Scotland, on an errand which, as he says, was far\nfrom being unfit for a sovereign to direct, or an honest man to perform.\nHis knowledge of commerce and revenue, his powers of insinuation, and\nabove all, his readiness of pen, were deemed of no small utility, in\npromoting the union of the two kingdoms; of which he wrote an able\nhistory, in 1709, with two dedications, one to the Queen, and another to\nthe Duke of Queensbury. Soon afterwards he unhappily, by some equivocal\nwritings, rendered himself suspected by both parties, so that he once\nmore retired to Newington in hopes of spending the remainder of his days\nin peace. His pension being withdrawn, and wearied with politics, he\nbegan to compose works of a different kind.\u2014The year 1715 may therefore\nbe regarded as the period of De Foe\u2019s political life. Faction henceforth\nfound other advocates, and parties procured other writers to disseminate\ntheir suggestions, and to propagate their falsehoods.\nIn 1715 De Foe published the \u201cFamily Instructor;\u201d a work inculcating the\ndomestic duties in a lively manner, by narration and dialogue, and\ndisplaying much knowledge of life in the middle ranks of society.\n\u201cReligious Courtship\u201d also appeared soon after, which, like the \u201cFamily\nInstructor,\u201d is eminently religious and moral in its tendency, and\nstrongly impresses on the mind that spirit of sobriety and private\ndevotion for which the dissenters have generally been distinguished. The\nmost celebrated of all his works, \u201cThe Life and Adventures of Robinson\nCrusoe,\u201d appeared in 1719. This work has passed through numerous\neditions, and been translated into almost all modern languages. The\ngreat invention which is displayed in it, the variety of incidents and\ncircumstances which it contains, related in the most easy and natural\nmanner, together with the excellency of the moral and religious\nreflections, render it a performance of very superior and uncommon\nmerit, and one of the most interesting works that ever appeared. It is\nstrongly recommended by Rosseau as a book admirably calculated to\npromote the purposes of natural education; and Dr. Blair says, \u201cNo\nfiction, in any language, was ever better supported than the Adventures\nof Robinson Crusoe. While it is carried on with that appearance of truth\nand simplicity, which takes a strong hold of the imagination of all\nreaders, it suggests, at the same time, very useful instruction; by\nshewing how much the native powers of man may be exerted for surmounting\nthe difficulties of any external situation.\u201d It has been pretended, that\nDe Foe surreptitiously appropriated the papers of Alexander Selkirk, a\nScotch mariner, who lived four years alone on the island of Juan\nFernandez, and a sketch of whose story had before appeared in the voyage\nof Captain Woodes Rogers. But this charge, though repeatedly and\nconfidently brought, appears to be totally destitute of any foundation.\nDe Foe probably took some general hints for his work from the story of\nSelkirk, but there exists no proof whatever, nor is it reasonable to\nsuppose that he possessed any of his papers or memoirs, which had been\npublished seven years before the appearance of Robinson Crusoe. As a\nfarther proof of De Foe\u2019s innocence, Captain Rogers\u2019s Account of Selkirk\nmay be produced, in which it is said that the latter had neither\npreserved pen, ink, or paper, and had, in a great measure, lost his\nlanguage; consequently De Foe could not have received any written\nassistance, and we have only the assertion of his enemies to prove that\nhe had any verbal.\nThe great success of Robinson Crusoe induced its author to write a\nnumber of other lives and adventures, some of which were popular in\ntheir times, though at present nearly forgotten. One of his latest\npublications was \u201cA Tour through the Island of Great Britain,\u201d a\nperformance of very inferior merit; but De Foe was now the garrulous old\nman, and his spirit (to use the words of an ingenious biographer) \u201clike\na candle struggling in the socket, blazed and sunk, blazed and sunk,\ntill it disappeared at length in total darkness.\u201d His laborious and\nunfortunate life was finished on the 26th of April, 1731, in the parish\nof St. Giles\u2019s, Cripplegate.\nDaniel De Foe possessed very extraordinary talents; as a commercial\nwriter, he is fairly entitled to stand in the foremost rank among his\ncontemporaries, whatever may be their performances or their fame. His\ndistinguishing characteristics are originality, spirit, and a profound\nknowledge of his subject, and in these particulars he has seldom been\nsurpassed. As the author of Robinson Crusoe he has a claim, not only to\nthe admiration, but to the gratitude of his countrymen; and so long as\nwe have a regard for supereminent merit, and take an interest in the\nwelfare of the rising generation, that gratitude will not cease to\nexist. But the opinion of the learned and ingenious Dr. Beattie will be\nthe best eulogium that can be pronounced on that celebrated romance:\n\u201cRobinson Crusoe,\u201d says the Doctor, \u201cmust be allowed by the most rigid\nmoralist, to be one of those novels which one may read, not only with\npleasure, but also with profit. It breathes throughout a spirit of piety\nand benevolence; it sets in a very striking light the importance of the\nmechanic arts, which they, who know not what it is to be without them,\nare so apt to undervalue; it fixes in the mind a lively idea of the\nhorrors of solitude, and, consequently, of the sweets of social life,\nand of the blessings we derive from conversation and mutual aid; and it\nshews, how, by labouring with one\u2019s own hands, one may secure\nindependence, and open for one\u2019s self many sources of health and\namusement. I agree, therefore, with Rosseau, that it is one of the best\nbooks that can be put into the hands of children.\u201d\nG.D.\nTHE\nLIFE AND ADVENTURES\nOF\nROBINSON CRUSOE,\nI was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family,\nthough not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who\nsettled first at Hull: he got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving\noff his trade, lived afterwards at York, from whence he had married my\nmother, whose relations were named Robinson, a very good family in that\ncountry, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but by the\nusual corruption of words in England, we are now called, nay we call\nourselves, and write our name Crusoe, and so my companions always\ncalled me.\nI had two elder brothers, one of which was lieutenant-colonel to an\nEnglish regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous\nColonel Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near Dunkirk against the\nSpaniards. What became of my second brother I never knew, any more than\nmy father or mother did know what was become of me.\nBeing the third son of the family, and not bred to any trade, my head\nbegan to be filled very early with rambling thoughts: my father, who was\nvery ancient, had given me a competent share of learning, as far as\nhouse education and a country free-school generally go, and designed me\nfor the law; but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea; and\nmy inclination to this led me so strongly against the will, nay the\ncommands of my father, and against all the entreaties and persuasions of\nmy mother and other friends, that there seemed to be something fatal in\nthat propension of nature tending directly to the life of misery which\nwas to befal me.\nMy father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel\nagainst what he foresaw was my design. He called me one morning into his\nchamber, where he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very warmly\nwith me upon this subject: he asked me what reasons more than a mere\nwandering inclination I had for leaving my father\u2019s house and my native\ncountry, where I might be well introduced, and had a prospect of raising\nmy fortune by application and industry, with a life of ease and\npleasure. He told me it was for men of desperate fortunes on one hand,\nor of aspiring superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon\nadventures, to rise by enterprise, and make themselves famous in\nundertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were\nall either too far above me, or too far below me; that mine was the\nmiddle state, or what might be called the upper station of _low life_,\nwhich he had found by long experience was the best state in the world,\nthe most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries and\nhardships, the labour and sufferings of the mechanic part of mankind,\nand not embarrassed with the pride, luxury, ambition, and envy of the\nupper part of mankind, he told me, I might judge of the happiness of\nthis state by this one thing, viz. that this was the state of life which\nall other people envied; that kings have frequently lamented the\nmiserable consequences of being born to great things, and wish they had\nbeen placed in the middle of the two extremes, between the mean and the\ngreat; that the wise man gave his testimony to this as the just standard\nof true felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty nor riches.\nHe bid me observe it, and I should always find, that the calamities of\nlife were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind; but that the\nmiddle station had the fewest disasters, and was not exposed to so many\nvicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind; nay, they were not\nsubjected to so many distempers and uneasinesses, either of body or\nmind, as those were, who by vicious living, luxury, and extravagances,\non one hand, or by hard labour, want of necessaries, and mean or\ninsufficient diet, on the other hand, bring distempers upon themselves\nby the natural consequences of their way of living; that the middle\nstation of life was calculated for all kind of virtues and all kind of\nenjoyments; that peace and plenty were the handmaids of a middle\nfortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health, society, all\nagreeable diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were the blessings\nattending the middle station of life; that this way men went silently\nand smoothly through the world, and comfortably out of it, not\nembarrassed with the labours of the hands or of the head, not sold to\nthe life of slavery for daily bread, or harassed with perplexed\ncircumstances, which rob the soul of peace, and the body of rest; not\nenraged with the passion of envy, or secret burning lust of ambition for\ngreat things; but in easy circumstances sliding gently through the\nworld, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living, without the bitter,\nfeeling that they are happy, and learning by every day\u2019s experience to\nknow it more sensibly.\nAfter this, he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate\nmanner, not to play the young man, not to precipitate myself into\nmiseries which nature and the station of life I was born in seemed to\nhave provided against; that I was under no necessity of seeking my\nbread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly\ninto the station of life which he had been just recommending to me; and\nthat if I was not very easy and happy in the world, it must be my mere\nfate or fault that must hinder it, and that he should have nothing to\nanswer for, having thus discharged his duty in warning me against\nmeasures which he knew would be to my hurt: in a word, that as he would\ndo very kind things for me if I would stay and settle at home as he\ndirected, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes, as to\ngive me any encouragement to go away: and to close all, he told me I had\nmy elder brother for an example, to whom he had used the same earnest\npersuasions to keep him from going into the Low Country wars, but could\nnot prevail, his young desires prompting him to run into the army, where\nhe was killed; and though he said he would not cease to pray for me, yet\nhe would venture to say to me, that if I did take this foolish step, God\nwould not bless me, and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon\nhaving neglected his counsel when there might be none to assist in\nmy recovery.\nI observed in this last part of his discourse, which was truly\nprophetic, though I suppose my father did not know it to be so himself;\nI say, I observed the tears run down his face very plentifully, and\nespecially when he spoke of my brother who was killed; and that when he\nspoke of my having leisure to repent, and none to assist me, he was so\nmoved, that he broke off the discourse, and told me, his heart was so\nfull he could say no more to me.\nI was sincerely affected with this discourse, as indeed who could be\notherwise? and I resolved not to think of going abroad any more, but to\nsettle at home according to my father\u2019s desire. But, alas! a few days\nwore it all off; and in short, to prevent any of my father\u2019s farther\nimportunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to run quite away from\nhim. However, I did not act so hastily neither as my first heat of\nresolution prompted, but I took my mother, at a time when I thought her\na little pleasanter than ordinary, and told her, that my thoughts were\nso entirely bent upon seeing the world, that I should never settle to\nany thing with resolution enough to go through with it, and my father\nhad better give me his consent than force me to go without it; that I\nwas now eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice to a\ntrade, or clerk to an attorney; that I was sure, if I did, I should\nnever serve out my time, and I should certainly run away from my master\nbefore my time was out, and go to sea; and if she would speak to my\nfather to let me go one voyage abroad, if I came home again, and did not\nlike it, I would go no more, and I would promise by a double diligence\nto recover that time I had lost.\nThis put my mother into a great passion: she told me, she knew it would\nbe to no purpose to speak to my father upon any such subject; that he\nknew too well what was my interest to give his consent to any such thing\nso much for my hurt; and that she wondered how I could think of any such\nthing after such a discourse as I had had with my father, and such kind\nand tender expressions as she knew my father had used to me; and that,\nin short, if I would ruin myself, there was no help for me; but I might\ndepend I should never have their consent to it: that for her part she\nwould not have so much hand in my destruction; and I should never have\nit to say, that my mother was willing when my father was not.\nThough my mother refused to move it to my father, yet, as I have heard\nafterwards, she reported all the discourse to him, and that my father,\nafter shewing a great concern at it, said to her with a sigh, \u201cThat boy\nmight be happy if he would stay at home; but if he goes abroad, he will\nbe the most miserable wretch that was ever born; I can give no\nconsent to it.\u201d\nIt was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose, though, in\nthe meantime, I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling\nto business, and frequently expostulating with my father and mother\nabout their being so positively determined against what they knew my\ninclinations prompted me to. But being one day at Hull, where I went\ncasually, and without any purpose of making an elopement that time; but\nI say, being there, and one of my companions being going by sea to\nLondon, in his father\u2019s ship, and prompting me to go with them, with the\ncommon allurement of seafaring men, viz. that it should cost me nothing\nfor my passage, I consulted neither father or mother any more, not so\nmuch as sent them word of it; but leaving them to hear of it as they\nmight, without asking God\u2019s blessing, or my father\u2019s, without any\nconsideration of circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God\nknows, on the first of September, 1651, I went on board a ship bound for\nLondon. Never any young adventurer\u2019s misfortunes, I believe, began\nsooner, or continued longer than mine. The ship was no sooner gotten out\nof the Humber, but the wind began to blow, and the waves to rise in a\nmost frightful manner; and, as I had never been at sea before, I was\nmost inexpressibly sick in body, and terrified in mind. I began now\nseriously to reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was\novertaken by the judgment of Heaven for my wicked leaving my father\u2019s\nhouse, and abandoning my duty; all the good counsel of my parents, my\nfather\u2019s tears and my mother\u2019s entreaties, came now fresh into my mind;\nand my conscience, which was not yet come to the pitch of hardness to\nwhich it has been since, reproached me with the contempt of advice, and\nthe breach of my duty to God and my father.\nAll this while the storm increased, and the sea, which I had never been\nupon before, went very high, though nothing like what I have seen many\ntimes since; no, nor like what I saw a few days after: but it was enough\nto affect me then, who was but a young sailor, and had never known any\nthing of the matter. I expected every wave would have swallowed us up,\nand that every time the ship fell down, as I thought, in the trough or\nhollow of the sea, we should never rise more; and in this agony of mind\nI made many vows and resolutions, that if it would please God here to\nspare my life this one voyage, if ever I got once my foot upon dry land\nagain I would go directly home to my father, and never set it into a\nship again while I lived; that I would take his advice, and never run\nmyself into such miseries as these any more. Now I saw plainly the\ngoodness of his observations about the middle station of life, how easy,\nhow comfortably he had lived all his days, and never had been exposed to\ntempests at sea, or troubles on shore; and I resolved that I would, like\na true repenting prodigal, go home to my father.\nThese wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the storm\ncontinued, and indeed some time after; but the next day the wind was\nabated, and the sea calmer, and I began to be a little inured to it:\nhowever, I was very grave for all that day, being also a little sea-sick\nstill; but towards night the weather cleared up, the wind was quite\nover, and a charming fine evening followed; the sun went down perfectly\nclear, and rose so the next morning; and having little or no wind, and a\nsmooth sea, the sun shining upon it, the sight was, as I thought, the\nmost delightful that ever I saw.\nI had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick, but very\ncheerful, looking with wonder upon the sea that was so rough and\nterrible the day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in so\nlittle time after. And now, lest my good resolutions should continue, my\ncompanion, who had indeed enticed me away, comes to me: \u201cWell, Bob,\u201d\nsays he, (clapping me upon the shoulder) \u201chow do you do after it? I\nwarrant you were frighted, wa\u2019n\u2019t you, last night, when it blew but a\ncapful of wind?\u201d\u2014\u201cA capful do you call it?\u201d said I; \u201cit was a terrible\nstorm.\u201d\u2014\u201cA storm you fool you,\u201d replied he, \u201cdo you call that a storm?\nwhy it was nothing at all; give us but a good ship and sea-room, and we\nthink nothing of such a squall of wind as that; but you\u2019re but a\nfresh-water sailor, Bob. Come, let us make a bowl of punch, and we\u2019ll\nforget all that; do you see what charming weather it is now?\u201d To make\nshort this sad part of my story, we went the old way of all sailors; the\npunch was made, and I was made drunk with it; and in that one night\u2019s\nwickedness I drowned all my repentance, all my reflections upon my past\nconduct, and all my resolutions for my future. In a word, as the sea was\nreturned to its smoothness of surface and settled calmness by the\nabatement of that storm, so the hurry of my thoughts being over, my\nfears and apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being\nforgotten, and the current of my former desires returned, I entirely\nforgot the vows and promises that I made in my distress. I found,\nindeed, some intervals of reflection, and the serious thoughts did, as\nit were, endeavour to return again sometimes; but I shook them off, and\nroused myself from them as it were from a distemper, and applying myself\nto drinking and company, soon mastered the return of those fits, for so\nI called them; and I had in five or six days got as complete a victory\nover conscience, as any young fellow that resolved not to be troubled\nwith it could desire: but I was to have another trial for it still; and\nProvidence, as in such cases generally it does, resolved to leave me\nentirely without excuse: for if I would not take this for a deliverance,\nthe next was to be such a one as the worst and most hardened wretch\namong us would confess both the danger and the mercy.\nThe sixth day of our being at sea we came into Yarmouth Roads; the wind\nhaving been contrary, and the weather calm, we had made but little way\nsince the storm. Here we were obliged to come to anchor, and here we\nlay, the wind continuing contrary, viz. at south-west, for seven or\neight days, during which time a great many ships from Newcastle came\ninto the same roads, as the common harbour where the ships might wait\nfor a wind for the river.\nWe had not, however, rid here so long, but should have tided it up the\nriver, but that the wind blew too fresh; and after we had lain four or\nfive days, blew very hard. However, the roads being reckoned as good as\na harbour, the anchorage good, and our ground tackle very strong, our\nmen were unconcerned, and not in the least apprehensive of danger, but\nspent the time in rest and mirth, after the manner of the sea; but the\neighth day in the morning the wind increased, and we had all hands at\nwork to strike our topmasts, and make every thing snug and close, that\nthe ship might ride as easy as possible. By noon the sea went very high\nindeed, and our ship rid _forecastle in_, shipped several seas, and we\nthought once or twice our anchor had come home; upon which our master\nordered out the sheet anchor; so that we rode with two anchors ahead,\nand the cables veered out to the better end.\nBy this time it blew a terrible storm indeed; and now I began to see\nterror and amazement in the faces even of the seamen themselves. The\nmaster, though vigilant in the business of preserving the ship, yet as\nhe went in and out of his cabin by me, I could hear him softly to\nhimself say several times, \u201cLord be merciful to us! we shall be all\nlost, we shall be all undone!\u201d and the like. During these first hurries\nI was stupid, lying still in my cabin, which was in the steerage, and\ncannot describe my temper: I could ill reassume the first penitence\nwhich I had so apparently trampled upon, and hardened myself against: I\nthought the bitterness of death had been past, and that this would be\nnothing like the first: but when the master himself came by me, as I\nsaid just now, and said we should be all lost, I was dreadfully\nfrighted: I got up out of my cabin, and looked out; but such a dismal\nsight I never saw; the sea went mountains high, and broke upon us every\nthree or four minutes: when I could look about, I could see nothing but\ndistress round us: two ships that rid near us, we found, had cut their\nmasts by the board, being deep loaden; and our men cried out, that a\nship which rid about a mile ahead of us was foundered. Two more ships\nbeing driven from their anchors, were run out of the roads to sea, at\nall adventures, and that with not a mast standing. The light ships fared\nthe best, as not so much labouring in the sea; but two or three of them\ndrove, and came close by us, running away with only their sprit-sail out\nbefore the wind.\nTowards evening the mate and boatswain begged the master of our ship to\nlet them cut away the fore-mast, which he was very unwilling to do: but\nthe boatswain protesting to him, that if he did not, the ship would\nfounder, he consented; and when they had cut away the fore-mast, the\nmain-mast stood so loose, and shook the ship so much, they were obliged\nto cut her away also, and make a clear deck.\nAny one may judge what a condition I must be in at all this, who was but\na young sailor, and who had been in such a fright before at but a\nlittle. But if I can express at this distance the thoughts I had about\nme at that time, I was in tenfold more horror of mind upon account of my\nformer convictions, and the having returned from them to the resolutions\nI had wickedly taken at first, than I was at death itself; and these,\nadded to the terror of the storm, put me in such a condition, that I can\nby no words describe it. But the worst was not come yet; the storm\ncontinued with such fury, that the seamen themselves acknowledged they\nhad never known a worse. We had a good ship, but she was deep loaden,\nand wallowed in the sea, that the seamen every now and then cried out,\nshe would founder. It was my advantage in one respect, that I did not\nknow what they meant by founder till I inquired. However, the storm was\nso violent, that I saw what is not often seen, the master, the\nboatswain, and some others more sensible than the rest, at their\nprayers, and expecting every moment when the ship would go to the\nbottom. In the middle of the night, and under all the rest of our\ndistresses, one of the men that had been down on purpose to see, cried\nout, we had sprang a leak; another said, there was four foot water in\nthe hold. Then all hands were called to the pump. At that very word my\nheart, as I thought, died within me, and I fell backwards upon the side\nof my bed where I sat, into the cabin. However, the men roused me, and\ntold me, that I that was able to do nothing before, was as well able to\npump as another; at which I stirred up, and went to the pump and worked\nvery heartily. While this was doing, the master seeing some light\ncolliers, who, not able to ride out the storm, were obliged to slip and\nrun away to sea, and would come near us, ordered to fire a gun as a\nsignal of distress. I, who knew nothing what that meant, was so\nsurprised, that I thought the ship had broke, or some dreadful thing\nhappened. In a word, I was so surprised, that I fell down in a swoon. As\nthis was a time when every body had his own life to think of, nobody\nminded me, or what was become of me; but another man stept up to the\npump, and thrusting me aside with his foot, let me lie, thinking I had\nbeen dead; and it was a great while before I came to myself.\nWe worked on; but the water increasing in the hold, it was apparent that\nthe ship would founder; and though the storm began to abate a little;\nyet as it was not possible she could swim till we might run into a port,\nso the master continued firing guns for help; and a light ship, who had\nrid it out just ahead of us, ventured a boat out to help us. It was with\nthe utmost hazard the boat came near us, but it was impossible for us to\nget on board, or for the boat to lie near the ship\u2019s side, till at last\nthe men rowing very heartily, and venturing their lives to save ours,\nour men cast them a rope over the stern with a buoy to it, and then\nveered it out a great length, which they after great labour and hazard\ntook hold of, and we hauled them close under our stern, and got all into\ntheir boat. It was to no purpose for them or us, after we were in the\nboat, to think of reaching to their own ship; so all agreed to let her\ndrive, and only to pull her in towards shore as much as we could; and\nour master promised them, that if the boat was staved upon shore he\nwould make it good to their master: so partly rowing and partly driving,\nour boat went away to the northward, sloping towards the shore almost as\nfar as Winterton-Ness.\nWe were not much more than a quarter of an hour out of our ship but we\nsaw her sink, and then I understood for the first time what was meant by\na ship foundering in the sea. I must acknowledge I had hardly eyes to\nlook up when the seamen told me she was sinking; for from that moment\nthey rather put me into the boat, than that I might be said to go in; my\nheart was, as it were, dead within me, partly with fright, partly with\nhorror of mind, and the thoughts of what was yet before me.\nWhile we were in this condition, the men yet labouring at the oar to\nbring the boat near the shore, we could see, when our boat mounting the\nwaves we were able to see the shore, a great many people running along\nthe shore to assist us when we should come near; but we made but slow\nway towards the shore, nor were we able to reach the shore, till being\npast the light-house at Winterton, the shore falls off to the westward\ntowards Cromer, and so the land broke off a little the violence of the\nwind. Here we got in, and, though not without much difficulty, got all\nsafe on shore, and walked afterwards on foot to Yarmouth, where, as\nunfortunate men, we were used with great humanity, as well by the\nmagistrates of the town, who assigned us good quarters, as by particular\nmerchants and owners of ships, and had money given us sufficient to\ncarry us either to London or back to Hull, as we thought fit.\nHad I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull, and have gone home, I\nhad been happy, and my father, an emblem of our blessed Saviour\u2019s\nparable, had even killed the fatted calf for me; for hearing the ship I\nwent away in was cast away in Yarmouth Roads, it was a great while\nbefore he had any assurance that I was not drowned.\nBut my ill fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy that nothing could\nresist; and though I had several times loud calls from my reason and my\nmore composed judgment to go home, yet I had no power to do it. I know\nnot what to call this, nor will I urge that it is a secret over-ruling\ndecree that hurries us on to be the instruments of our own destruction,\neven though it be before us, and that we push upon it with our eyes\nopen. Certainly nothing but some such decreed unavoidable misery\nattending, and which it was impossible for me to escape, could have\npushed me forward against the calm reasonings and persuasions of my most\nretired thoughts, and against two such visible instructions as I had met\nwith in my first attempt.\nMy comrade, who had helped to harden me before, and who was the master\u2019s\nson, was now less forward than I. The first time he spoke to me after we\nwere at Yarmouth, which was not till two or three days, for we were\nseparated in the town to several quarters; I say, the first time he saw\nme, it appeared his tone was altered, and looking very melancholy, and\nshaking his head, asked me how I did, and telling his father who I was,\nand how I had come this voyage only for a trial, in order to go farther\nabroad; his father turning to me with a very grave and concerned tone,\n\u201cYoung man,\u201d says he, \u201cyou ought never to go to sea any more; you ought\nto take this for a plain and visible token that you are not to be a\nseafaring man.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy, Sir,\u201d said I, \u201cwill you go to sea no more?\u201d \u201cThat\nis another case,\u201d said he; \u201cit is my calling, and therefore my duty; but\nas you made this voyage for a trial, you see what a taste Heaven has\ngiven you of what you are to expect if you persist: perhaps this is all\nbefallen us on your account, like Jonah in the ship of Tarshish. Pray,\u201d\ncontinues he, \u201cwhat are you? and on what account did you go to sea?\u201d\nUpon that I told him some of my story; at the end of which he burst out\nwith a strange kind of passion; \u201cWhat had I done,\u201d says he, \u201cthat such\nan unhappy wretch should come into my ship? I would not set my foot in\nthe same ship with thee again for a thousand pounds.\u201d This indeed was,\nas I said, an excursion of his spirits, which were yet agitated by the\nsense of his loss, and was farther than he could have authority to go.\nHowever, he afterwards talked very gravely to me, exhorted me to go back\nto my father, and not tempt Providence to my ruin; told me I might see a\nvisible hand of Heaven against me. \u201cAnd young man,\u201d said he, \u201cdepend\nupon it, if you do not go back, wherever you go, you will meet with\nnothing but disasters and disappointments, till your father\u2019s words are\nfulfilled upon you.\u201d\nWe parted soon after; for I made him little answer, and I saw him no\nmore: which way he went, I know not. As for me, having some money in my\npocket, I travelled to London by land; and there, as well as on the\nroad, had many struggles with myself, what course of life I should take,\nand whether I should go home, or go to sea.\nAs to going home, shame opposed the best motions that offered to my\nthoughts; and it immediately occurred to me how I should be laughed at\namong the neighbours, and should be ashamed to see, not my father and\nmother only, but even every body else; from whence I have since often\nobserved, how incongruous and irrational the common temper of mankind\nis, especially of youth, to that reason which ought to guide them in\nsuch cases, viz. that they are not ashamed to sin, and yet are ashamed\nto repent; nor ashamed of the action for which they ought justly to be\nesteemed fools, but are ashamed of the returning, which only can make\nthem be esteemed wise men.\nIn this state of life however I remained some time, uncertain what\nmeasures to take, and what course of life to lead. An irresistible\nreluctance continued to going home; and as I stayed a while, the\nremembrance of the distress I had been in wore off; and as that abated,\nthe little motion I had in my desires to a return wore off with it, till\nat last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it, and looked out for\na voyage.\nThat evil influence which carried me first away from my father\u2019s house,\nthat hurried me into the wild and indigested notion of raising my\nfortune; and that impressed those conceits so forcibly upon me, as to\nmake me deaf to all good advice, and to the entreaties and even the\ncommand of my father: I say, the same influence, whatever it was,\npresented the most unfortunate of all enterprises to my view; and I went\non board a vessel bound to the coast of Africa; or, as our sailors\nvulgarly call it, a voyage to Guinea.\nIt was my great misfortune that in all these adventures I did not ship\nmyself as a sailor; whereby, though I might indeed have worked a little\nharder than ordinary, yet at the same time I had learnt the duty and\noffice of a foremastman; and in time might have qualified myself for a\nmate or lieutenant, if not for a master. But as it was always my fate to\nchoose for the worse, so I did here; for having money in my pocket, and\ngood clothes upon my back, I would always go on board in the habit of a\ngentleman; and so I neither had any business in the ship, or learnt\nto do any.\nIt was my lot first of all to fall into pretty good company in London,\nwhich does not always happen to such loose and unguided young fellows as\nI then was; the devil generally not omitting to lay some snare for them\nvery early: but it was not so with me. I first fell acquainted with the\nmaster of a ship who had been on the coast of Guinea; and who, having\nhad very good success there, was resolved to go again; and who taking a\nfancy to my conversation, which was not at all disagreeable at that\ntime, hearing me say I had a mind to see the world, told me if I would\ngo the voyage with him I should be at no expense; I should be his\nmessmate and his companion; and if I could carry any thing with me, I\nshould have all the advantage of it that the trade would admit; and\nperhaps I might meet with some encouragement.\nI embraced the offer; and entering into a strict friendship with this\ncaptain, who was an honest and plain-dealing man, I went the voyage with\nhim, and carried a small adventure with me, which, by the disinterested\nhonesty of my friend the captain, I increased very considerably; for I\ncarried about 40_l_. in such toys and trifles as the captain directed me\nto buy. This 40_l_. I had mustered together by the assistance of some of\nmy relations whom I corresponded with, and who, I believe, got my\nfather, or at least my mother, to contribute so much as that to my first\nadventure.\nThis was the only voyage which I may say was successful in all my\nadventures, and which I owe to the integrity and honesty of my friend\nthe captain, under whom also I got a competent knowledge of the\nmathematics and the rules of navigation, learnt how to keep an account\nof the ship\u2019s course, take an observation, and, in short, to understand\nsome things that were needful to be understood by a sailor: for, as he\ntook delight to instruct me, I took delight to learn; and, in a word,\nthis voyage made me both a sailor and a merchant: for I brought home\nfive pounds nine ounces of gold-dust for my adventure, which yielded me\nin London at my return almost 300_l_. and this filled me with those\naspiring thoughts which have so completed my ruin.\nYet even in this voyage I had my misfortunes too; particularly, that I\nwas continually sick, being thrown into a violent calenture by the\nexcessive heat of the climate; our principal trading being upon the\ncoast, from the latitude of 15 degrees north even to the line itself.\nI was now set up for a Guinea trader; and my friend, to my great\nmisfortune, dying soon after his arrival, I resolved to go the same\nvoyage again, and I embarked in the same vessel with one who was his\nmate in the former voyage, and had now got the command of the ship. This\nwas the unhappiest voyage that ever man made; for though I did not\ncarry quite 100_l_. of my new-gained wealth, so that I had 200_l_. left,\nand which I lodged with my friend\u2019s widow, who was very just to me, yet\nI fell into terrible misfortunes in this voyage; and the first was this,\nviz. our ship making her course towards the Canary Islands, or rather\nbetween those islands and the African shore, was surprised in the grey\nof the morning by a Turkish rover of Sallee, who gave chase to us with\nall the sail she could make. We crowded also as much canvass as our\nyards would spread, or our masts carry, to have got clear; but finding\nthe pirate gained upon us, and would certainly come up with us in a few\nhours, we prepared to fight; our ship having twelve guns, and the rogue\neighteen. About three in the afternoon he came up with us, and bringing\nto by mistake just athwart our quarter, instead of athwart our stern, as\nhe intended, we brought eight of our guns to bear on that side, and\npoured in a broadside upon him, which made him sheer off again, after\nreturning our fire, and pouring in also his small-shot from near 200 men\nwhich he had on board. However, we had not a man touched, all our men\nkeeping close. He prepared to attack us again, and we to defend\nourselves; but laying us on board the next time upon our other quarter,\nhe entered sixty men upon our decks, who immediately fell to cutting and\nhacking the decks and rigging. We plied them with small-shot,\nhalf-pikes, powder-cheats, and such like, and cleared our deck of them\ntwice. However, to cut short this melancholy part of our story, our ship\nbeing disabled, and three of our men killed and eight wounded, we were\nobliged to yield, and were carried all prisoners into Sallee, a port\nbelonging to the Moors.\nThe usage I had there was not so dreadful as at first I apprehended; nor\nwas I carried up the country to the emperor\u2019s court, as the rest of our\nmen were, but was kept by the captain of the rover as his proper prize,\nand made his slave, being young and nimble, and fit for his business. At\nthis surprising change of my circumstances, from a merchant to a\nmiserable slave, I was perfectly overwhelmed; and now I looked back upon\nmy father\u2019s prophetic discourse to me, that I should be miserable, and\nhave none to relieve me, which I thought was now so effectually brought\nto pass, that I could not be worse; that now the hand of Heaven had\novertaken me, and I was undone without redemption: but, alas! this was\nbut a taste of the misery I was to go through, as will appear in the\nsequel of this story.\nAs my new patron, or master, had taken me home to his house, so I was in\nhopes that he would take me with him when he went to sea again,\nbelieving that it would sometime or other be his fate to be taken by a\nSpanish or Portugal man of war, and that then I should be set at\nliberty. But this hope of mine was soon taken away; for when he went to\nsea, he left me on shore to look after his little garden, and do the\ncommon drudgery of slaves about his house; and when he came home again\nfrom his cruise, he ordered me to be in the cabin to look after\nthe ship.\nHere I meditated nothing but my escape, and what method I might take to\neffect it, but found no way that had the least probability in it:\nnothing presented to make the supposition of it rational; for I had\nnobody to communicate it to that would embark with me, no fellow slave,\nno Englishman, Irishman, or Scotsman there but myself; so that for two\nyears, though I often pleased myself with the imagination, yet I never\nhad the least encouraging prospect of putting it in practice.\nAfter about two years an odd circumstance presented itself, which put\nthe old thought of making some attempt for my liberty again in my head:\nmy patron lying at home longer than usual without fitting out his ship,\nwhich, as I heard, was for want of money, he used constantly, once or\ntwice a week, sometimes oftener, if the weather was fair, to take the\nship\u2019s pinnace, and go out into the road a-fishing; and as he always\ntook me and a young Maresco with him to row the boat, we made him very\nmerry, and I proved very dexterous in catching fish; insomuch that\nsometimes he would send me with a Moor, one of his kinsmen, and the\nyouth the Maresco, as they called him, to catch a dish of fish for him.\nIt happened one time, that going a-fishing in a stark calm morning, a\nfog rose so thick, that though we were not half a league from the shore\nwe lost sight of it; and rowing we knew not whither or which way, we\nlaboured all day, and all the next night, and when the morning came we\nfound we had pulled off to sea instead of pulling in for the shore; and\nthat we were at least two leagues from the shore: however, we got well\nin again, though with a great deal of labour and some danger; for the\nwind began to blow pretty fresh in the morning; but particularly we were\nall very hungry.\nBut our patron, warned by this disaster, resolved to take more care of\nhimself for the future; and having lying by him the long-boat of our\nEnglish ship he had taken, he resolved he would not go a-fishing any\nmore without a compass and some provision; so he ordered the carpenter\nof his ship, who also was an English slave, to build a little\nstate-room, or cabin, in the middle of the long-boat, like that of a\nbarge, with a place to stand behind it to steer and hale home the\nmain-sheet; and room before for a hand or two to stand and work the\nsails: she sailed with that we call a shoulder of mutton sail; and the\nboom gibed over the top of the cabin, which lay very snug and low, and\nhad in it room for him to lie, with a slave or two, and a table to eat\non, with some small lockers to put in some bottles of such liquor as he\nthought fit to drink; particularly his bread, rice, and coffee.\nWe went frequently out with this boat a-fishing, and as I was most\ndexterous to catch fish for him, he never went without me. It happened\nthat he had appointed to go out in this boat, either for pleasure or for\nfish, with two or three Moors of some distinction in that place, and for\nwhom he had provided extraordinarily, and had therefore sent on board\nthe boat over-night a larger store of provisions than ordinary; and had\nordered me to get ready three fuzees with powder and shot, which were on\nboard his ship; for that they designed some sport of fowling as well\nas fishing.\nI got all things ready as he had directed, and waited the next morning\nwith the boat washed clean, her ancient and pendants out, and every\nthing to accommodate his guests; when by and by my patron came on board\nalone, and told me his guests had put off going, upon some business that\nfell out, and ordered me with the man and boy, as usual, to go out with\nthe boat and catch them some fish, for that his friends were to sup at\nhis house; and commanded that as soon as I got some fish I should bring\nit home to his house; all which I prepared to do.\nThis moment my former notions of deliverance darted into my thoughts,\nfor now I found I was like to have a little ship at my command; and my\nmaster being gone, I prepared to furnish myself, not for fishing\nbusiness, but for a voyage; though I knew not, neither did I so much as\nconsider, whither I should steer; for any where to get out of that place\nwas my way.\nMy first contrivance was to make a pretence to speak to this Moor, to\nget something for our subsistence on board; for I told him we must not\npresume to eat of our patron\u2019s bread; he said, that was true: so he\nbrought a large basket of rusk or bisket of their kind, and three jars\nwith fresh water, into the boat. I knew where my patron\u2019s case of\nbottles stood, which it was evident, by the make, were taken out of some\nEnglish prize, and I conveyed them into the boat while the Moor was on\nshore, as if they had been there before for our master: I conveyed also\na great lump of bees-wax into the boat, which weighed above half a\nhundred weight, with a parcel of twine or thread, a hatchet, a saw, and\na hammer, all which were of great use to us afterwards, especially the\nwax to make candles. Another trick I tried upon him, which he innocently\ncame into also; his name was Ismael, whom they call Muly or Moley; so I\ncalled to him: \u201cMoley,\u201d said I, \u201cour patron\u2019s guns are on board the\nboat; can you not get a little powder and shot? It may be we may kill\nsome alcamies (a fowl like our curlews) for ourselves, for I know he\nkeeps the gunner\u2019s stores in the ship.\u201d\u2014\u201cYes,\u201d says he, \u201cI\u2019ll bring\nsome;\u201d and accordingly he brought a great leather pouch which held about\na pound and a half of powder, or rather more; and another with shot,\nthat had five or six pounds, with some bullets, and put all into the\nboat; at the same time I had found some powder of my master\u2019s in the\ngreat cabin, with which I filled one of the large bottles in the case,\nwhich was almost empty, pouring what was in it into another; and thus\nfurnished with every thing needful, we sailed out of the port to fish.\nThe castle, which is at the entrance of the port, knew who we were, and\ntook no notice of us: and we were not above a mile out of the port\nbefore we haled in our sail, and set us down to fish. The wind blew from\nthe N.N.E. which was contrary to my desire; for had it blown southerly,\nI had been sure to have made the coast of Spain, and at last reached to\nthe bay of Cadiz; but my resolutions were, blow which way it would, I\nwould be gone from that horrid place where I was, and leave the rest\nto fate.\nAfter we had fished some time and catched nothing, for when I had fish\non my hook I would not pull them up, that he might not see them, I said\nto the Moor, \u201cThis will not do; our master will not be thus served; we\nmust stand farther off.\u201d He, thinking no harm, agreed, and being in the\nhead of the boat set the sails; and as I had the helm I ran the boat out\nnear a league farther, and then brought her to as if I would fish; when\ngiving the boy the helm, I stepped forward to where the Moor was, and\nmaking as if I stooped for something behind him, I took him by surprise\nwith my arm under his twist, and tossed him clear overboard into the\nsea; he rose immediately, for he swam like a cork, and called to me,\nbegged to be taken in, told me he would go all over the world with me.\nHe swam so strong after the boat, that he would have reached me very\nquickly, there being but little wind; upon which I stepped into the\ncabin, and fetching one of the fowling-pieces, I presented it at him,\nand told him, I had done him no hurt, and if he would be quiet I would\ndo him none: \u201cBut,\u201d said I, \u201cyou swim well enough to reach to the shore,\nand the sea is calm; make the best of your way to shore, and I will do\nyou no harm; but if you come near the boat I\u2019ll shoot you through the\nhead, for I am resolved to have my liberty:\u201d so he turned himself about,\nand swam for the shore, and I make no doubt but he reached it with ease,\nfor he was an excellent swimmer.\nI could have been content to have taken this Moor with me, and have\ndrowned the boy, but there was no venturing to trust him. When he was\ngone I turned to the boy, whom they called Xury, and said to him, \u201cXury,\nif you will be faithful to me I\u2019ll make you a great man; but if you will\nnot stroke your face to be true to me,\u201d that is, swear by Mahomet and\nhis father\u2019s beard, \u201cI must throw you into the sea too.\u201d The boy smiled\nin my face, and spoke so innocently, that I could not mistrust him; and\nswore to be faithful to me, and go all over the world with me.\nWhile I was in view of the Moor that was swimming, I stood out directly\nto sea with the boat, rather stretching to windward, that they might\nthink me gone towards the Straits\u2019 mouth; (as indeed any one that had\nbeen in their wits must have been supposed to do) for who would have\nsupposed we were sailed on to the southward to the truly Barbarian\ncoast, where whole nations of Negroes were sure to surround us with the\ncanoes, and destroy us; where we could never once go on shore but we\nshould be devoured by savage beasts, or more merciless savages of\nhuman kind?\nBut as soon as it grew dusk in the evening, I changed my course, and\nsteered directly south and by east, bending my course a little toward\nthe east, that I might keep in with the shore; and having a fair, fresh\ngale of wind, and a smooth, quiet sea, I made such sail that I believe\nby the next day at three o\u2019clock in the afternoon, when I first made the\nland, I could not be less than 150 miles south of Sallee; quite beyond\nthe Emperor of Morocco\u2019s dominions, or indeed of any other king\nthereabouts, for we saw no people.\nYet such was the fright I had taken at the Moors, and the dreadful\napprehensions I had of falling into their hands, that I would not stop,\nor go on shore, or come to an anchor; the wind continuing fair till I\nhad sailed in that manner five days, and then the wind shifting to the\nsouthward, I concluded also that if any of our vessels were in chase of\nme, they also would now give over; so I ventured to make to the coast,\nand come to an anchor in the mouth of a little river, I knew not what,\nor where; neither what latitude, what country, what nation, or what\nriver: I neither saw, or desired to see any people; the principal thing\nI wanted was fresh water. We came into this creek in the evening,\nresolving to swim on shore as soon as it was dark, and discover the\ncountry; but as soon as it was quite dark, we heard, such dreadful\nnoises of the barking, roaring, and howling of wild creatures, of we\nknew not what kinds that the poor boy was ready to die with fear, and\nbegged of me not to go on shore till day. \u201cWell, Xury,\u201d said I, \u201cthen I\nwon\u2019t; but it may be we may see men by day, who will be as bad to us as\nthose lions.\u201d\u2014\u201cThen we give them the shoot gun,\u201d says Xury, laughing,\n\u201cmake them run wey.\u201d Such English Xury spoke by conversing among us\nslaves. However, I was glad to see the boy so cheerful, and I gave him a\ndram (out of our patron\u2019s case of bottles) to cheer him up. After all,\nXury\u2019s advice was good, and I took it; we dropped our little anchor, and\nlay still all night; I say still, for we slept none; for in two or three\nhours we saw vast great creatures (we knew not what to call them) of\nmany sorts, come down to the sea-shore and run into the water, wallowing\nand washing themselves for the pleasure of cooling themselves; and they\nmade such hideous howlings and yellings, that I never indeed heard\nthe like.\nXury was dreadfully frighted, and indeed so was I too; but we were both\nmore frighted when we heard one of these mighty creatures come swimming\ntowards our boat; we could not see him, but we might hear him by his\nblowing to be a monstrous huge and furious beast; Xury said it was a\nlion, and it might be so for aught I know; but poor Xury cried to me to\nweigh the anchor and row away: \u201cNo,\u201d says I, \u201cXury; we can slip our\ncable with the buoy to it, and go off to sea; they cannot follow us\nfar.\u201d I had no sooner said so, but I perceived the creature (whatever it\nwas) within two oars\u2019 length, which something surprised me; however, I\nimmediately stepped to the cabin-door, and taking up my gun fired at\nhim; upon which he immediately turned about, and swam towards the\nshore again.\nBut it is impossible to describe the horrible noises, and hideous cries\nand howlings, that were raised, as well upon the edge of the shore as\nhigher within the country, upon the noise or report of the gun, a thing\nI have some reason to believe those creatures had never heard before:\nthis convinced me that there was no going on shore for us in the night\nupon that coast, and how to venture on shore in the day was another\nquestion too; for to have fallen into the hands of any of the savages,\nhad been as bad as to have fallen into the hands of lions and tigers; at\nleast we were equally apprehensive of the danger of it.\nBe that as it would, we were obliged to go on shore somewhere or other\nfor water, for we had not a pint left in the boat; when or where to get\nit, was the point: Xury said, if I would let him go on shore with one of\nthe jars, he would find if there was any water, and bring some to me. I\nasked him why he would go? why I should not go, and he stay in the\nboat? The boy answered with so much affection, that made me love him\never after. Says he, \u201cIf wild mans come, they eat me, you go\nwey.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell, Xury,\u201d said I, \u201cwe will both go, and if the wild mans\ncome, we will kill them, they shall eat neither of us.\u201d So I gave Xury a\npiece of rusk bread to eat, and a dram out of our patron\u2019s case of\nbottles which I mentioned before; and we haled the boat in as near the\nshore as we thought was proper, and waded on shore; carrying nothing but\nour arms, and two jars for water.\nI did not care to go out of sight of the boat, fearing the coming of\ncanoes with savages down the river; but the boy seeing a low place about\na mile up the country, rambled to it; and by and by I saw him come\nrunning towards me. I thought he was pursued by some savage, or frighted\nwith some wild beast, and I run forward towards him to help him; but\nwhen I came nearer to him, I saw something hanging over his shoulders,\nwhich was a creature that he had shot, like a hare, but different in\ncolour, and longer legs; however, we were very glad of it, and it was\nvery good meat; but the great joy that poor Xury came with, was to tell\nme that he had found good water, and seen no wild mans.\nBut we found afterwards that we need not take such pains for water, for\na little higher up the creek where we were, we found the water fresh\nwhen the tide was out, which flows but a little way up; so we filled our\njars, and feasted on the hare we had killed, and prepared to go on our\nway, having seen no footsteps of any human creature in that part of\nthe country.\nAs I had been one voyage to this coast before, I knew very well that the\nislands of the Canaries, and the Cape de Verd islands also, lay not far\noff from the coast. But as I had no instruments to take an observation\nto know what latitude we were in, and not exactly knowing, or at least\nremembering what latitude they were in, and knew not where to look for\nthem, or when to stand off to sea towards them; otherwise I might now\neasily have found some of these islands. But my hope was, that if I\nstood along this coast till I came to that part where the English\ntraded, I should find some of their vessels upon their usual design of\ntrade, that would relieve and take us in.\nBy the best of my calculation, that place where I now was, must be that\ncountry, which, lying between the emperor of Morocco\u2019s dominions and the\nNegroes, lies waste, and uninhabited, except by wild beasts; the Negroes\nhaving abandoned it, and gone farther south for fear of the Moors; and\nthe Moors not thinking it worth inhabiting, by reason of its barrenness;\nand indeed both forsaking it because of the prodigious numbers of\ntigers, lions, leopards, and other furious creatures which harbour\nthere; so that the Moors use it for their hunting only, where they go\nlike an army, two or three thousand men at a time; and indeed for near\nan hundred miles together upon this coast, we saw nothing but a waste\nuninhabited country by day, and heard nothing but howlings and roaring\nof wild beasts by night.\nOnce or twice in the daytime. I thought I saw the Pico of Teneriffe,\nbeing the high top of the Mountain Teneriffe in the Canaries; and had a\ngreat mind to venture out in hopes of reaching thither; but having tried\ntwice, I was forced in again by contrary winds, the sea also going too\nhigh for my little vessel; so I resolved to pursue my first design, and\nkeep along the shore.\nSeveral times I was obliged to land for fresh water, after we had left\nthis place; and once in particular, being early in the morning, we came\nto an anchor under a little point of land which was pretty high; and the\ntide beginning to flow, we lay still to go farther in. Xury, whose eyes\nwere more about him than it seems mine were, calls softly to me, and\ntells me that we had best go farther off the shore; \u201cfor,\u201d says he,\n\u201clook yonder lies a dreadful monster on the side of that hillock fast\nasleep.\u201d I looked where he pointed, and saw a dreadful monster indeed,\nfor it was a terrible great lion that lay on the side of the shore,\nunder the shade of a piece of the hill that hung as it were a little\nover him. \u201cXury,\u201d says I, \u201cyou shall go on shore and kill him.\u201d Xury\nlooked frighted, and said, \u201cMe kill! he eat me at one mouth;\u201d one\nmouthful he meant: however, I said no more to the boy, but had him lie\nstill, and I took our biggest gun, which was almost musket-bore, and\nloaded it with a good charge of powder, and with two slugs, and laid it\ndown; then I loaded another gun with two bullets; and the third, for we\nhad three pieces, I loaded with five smaller bullets. I took the best\naim I could with the first piece, to have shot him into the head, but he\nlay so with his leg raised a little above his nose, that the slugs hit\nhis leg about the knee, and broke the bone. He started up growling at\nfirst, but finding his leg broke fell down again, and then got up upon\nthree legs, and gave the most hideous roar that ever I heard. I was a\nlittle surprised that I had not hit him on the head; however, I look up\nthe second piece immediately, and, though he began to move off, fired\nagain, and shot him into the head, and had the pleasure to see him drop,\nand make but little noise, but he struggling for life. Then Xury took\nHeart, and would have me let him go on shore: \u201cWell, go,\u201d said I; so the\nboy jumped into the water, and taking a little gun in one hand, swam to\nshore with the other hand, and coming close to the creature, put the\nmuzzle of the piece to his ear, and shot him into the head again, which\ndispatched him quite.\nThis was game indeed to us, but this was no food; and I was very sorry\nto lose three charges of powder and shot upon a creature that was good\nfor nothing to us. However, Xury said he would have some of him; so he\ncomes on board, and asked me to give him the hatchet. \u201cFor what, Xury?\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cMe cut off his head,\u201d said he. However, Xury could not cut off\nhis head, but he cut off a foot, and brought it with him, and it was a\nmonstrous great one.\nI bethought myself however, that perhaps the skin of him might one way\nor other be of some value to us; and I resolved to take off his skin if\nI could. So Xury and I went to work with him; but Xury was much the\nbetter workman at it, for I knew very ill how to do it. Indeed it took\nus up both the whole day, but at last we got off the hide of him, and\nspreading it on the top of our cabin, the sun effectually dried it in\ntwo days time, and it afterwards served me to lie upon.\nAfter this stop, we made on to the southward continually for ten or\ntwelve days, living very sparing on our provisions, which began to abate\nvery much, and going no oftener into the shore than we were obliged to\nfor fresh water: my design in this was, to make the river Gambia or\nSenegal, that is to say, any where about the Cape de Verd, where I was\nin hopes to meet with some European ship; and if I did not, I knew not\nwhat course I had to take, but to seek for the islands, or perish there\namong the Negroes. I knew that all the ships from Europe, which sailed\neither to the coast of Guinea or Brasil, or to the East Indies, made\nthis Cape, or those islands; and in a word, I put the whole of my\nfortune upon this single point, either that I must meet with some ship,\nor must perish.\nWhen I had passed this resolution about ten days longer, as I have said,\nI began to see that the land was inhabited; and in two or three places,\nas we sailed by, we saw people stand upon the shore to look at us; we\ncould also perceive that they were quite black, and stark naked. I was\nonce inclined to have gone on shore to them; but Xury was my better\ncounsellor, and said to me, \u201cNo go, no go.\u201d However, I hauled in nearer\nthe shore that I might talk to them, and I found they run along the\nshore by me a good way: I observed they had no weapons in their hands,\nexcept one, who had a long slender stick, which Xury said was a lance,\nand that they would throw, them a great way with good aim; so I kept at\na distance, but talked with them by signs as well as I could; and\nparticularly made signs for something to eat; they beckoned to me to\nstop my boat, and they would fetch me some meat. Upon this I lowered the\ntop of my sail, and lay by, and two of them ran up into the country, and\nin less than half an hour came back, and brought with them two pieces of\ndry flesh and some corn, such as is the produce of their country; but we\nneither knew what the one nor the other was: however, we were willing to\naccept it, but how to come at it was our next dispute, for I was not for\nventuring on shore to them, and they were as much afraid of us: but they\ntook a safe way for us all, for they brought it to the shore and laid it\ndown, and went and stood a great way off till we fetched it on board,\nand then came close to us again.\nWe made signs of thanks to them, for we had nothing to make them amends;\nbut an opportunity offered that very instant to oblige them wonderfully;\nfor while we were lying by the shore came two mighty creatures, one\npursuing the other (as we took it) with great fury from the mountains\ntowards the sea; whether it was the male pursuing the female, or whether\nthey were in sport or in rage, we could not tell, any more than we could\ntell whether it was usual or strange, but I believe it was the latter;\nbecause, in the first place, those ravenous creatures seldom appear but\nin the night; and in the second place, we found the people terribly\nfrighted, especially the women. The man that had the lance or dart did\nnot fly from them, but the rest did; however, as the two creatures ran\ndirectly into the water, they did not seem to offer to fall upon any of\nthe Negroes, but plunged themselves into the sea, and swam about as if\nthey had come for their diversion. At last one of them began to come\nnearer our boat than at first I expected; but I lay ready for him, for I\nhad loaded my gun with all possible expedition, and had Xury load both\nthe others: as soon as he came fairly within my reach I fired, and shot\nhim directly into the head; immediately he sunk down into the water, but\nrose instantly, and plunged up and down as if he was struggling for\nlife; and so indeed he was: he immediately made to the shore; but\nbetween the wound, which was his mortal hurt, and the strangling of the\nwater, he died just before he reached the shore.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment of these poor creatures at\nthe noise and the fire of my gun; some of them were even ready to die\nfor fear, and fell down as dead with the very terror. But when they saw\nthe creature dead, and sunk in the water, and that I made signs to them\nto come to the shore, they took heart and came to the shore, and began\nto search for the creature. I found him by his blood staining the water,\nand by the help of a rope, which I slung round him, and gave the Negroes\nto hale, they dragged him on shore, and found that it was a most curious\nleopard, spotted and fine to an admirable degree, and the Negroes held\nup their hands with admiration to think what it was I had killed\nhim with.\nThe other creature, frighted with the flash of fire and the noise of the\ngun, swam on shore, and ran up directly to the mountains from whence\nthey came, nor could I at that distance know what it was. I found\nquickly the Negroes were for eating the flesh of this creature, so I was\nwilling to have them take it as a favour from me, which, when I made\nsigns to them that they might take him, they were very thankful for.\nImmediately they fell to work with him, and though they had no knife,\nyet with a sharpened piece of wood they took off his skin as readily,\nand much more readily, than we could have done with a knife. They\noffered me some of the flesh, which I declined, making as if I would\ngive it them, but made signs for the skin, which they gave me very\nfreely, and brought me a great deal more of their provision, which,\nthough I did not understand, yet I accepted; then I made signs to them\nfor some water, and held out one of my jars to them, turning it bottom\nupward, to shew that it was empty, and that I wanted to have it filled.\nThey called immediately to some of their friends, and there came two\nwomen, and brought a great vessel made of earth, and burnt, as I\nsuppose, in the sun; this they set down for me, as before, and I sent\nXury on shore with my jars, and filled them all three. The women were as\nstark naked as the men.\nI was now furnished with roots and corn, such as it was, and water; and,\nleaving my friendly Negroes, I made forward for about eleven days more,\nwithout offering to go near the shore, till I saw the land run out a\ngreat length into the sea, at about the distance of four or five leagues\nbefore me; and, the sea being very calm, I kept a large offing to make\nthis point: at length, doubling the point at about two leagues from the\nland, I saw plainly land on the other side to seaward; then I concluded,\nas it was most certain indeed, that this was the Cape de Verd, and those\nthe _islands_, called from thence Cape de Verd Islands. However, they\nwere at a great distance, and I could not well tell what I had best to\ndo, for if I should be taken with a fresh of wind I might neither reach\none nor the other.\nIn this dilemma, as I was very pensive, I stepped into the cabin and sat\nme down, Xury having the helm, when on a sudden the boy cried out,\n\u201cMaster, Master, a ship with a sail!\u201d and the foolish boy was frighted\nout of his wits, thinking it must needs be some of his master\u2019s ships\nsent to pursue us, when I knew we were gotten far enough out of their\nreach. I jumped out of the cabin, and immediately saw not only the ship,\nbut what she was, viz. that it was a Portuguese ship, and, as I thought,\nwas bound to the coast of Guinea for Negroes. But when I observed the\ncourse she steered, I was soon convinced they were bound some other way,\nand did not design to come any nearer to the shore; upon which I\nstretched out to sea as much as I could, resolving to speak with them\nif possible.\nWith all the sail I could muster, I found I should not be able to\ncome in their way, but that they would be gone by before I could\nmake any signal to them; but after I had crowded to the utmost,\nand began to despair, they, it seems, saw me by the help of their\nperspective-glasses, and that it was some European boat, which, as they\nsupposed, must belong to some ship that was lost; so they shortened sail\nto let me come up. I was encouraged with this; and as I had my patron\u2019s\nancient on board, I made a waft of it to them for a signal of distress,\nand fired a gun, both which they saw, for they told me they saw the\nsmoke, though they did not hear the gun: upon these signals they very\nkindly brought to, and lay by for me, and in about three hours time I\ncame up with them.\nThey asked me what I was in Portuguese, and in Spanish, and in French;\nbut I understood none of them; but at last a Scots sailor, who was on\nboard, called to me, and I answered him, and told him I was an\nEnglishman, that I had made my escape out of slavery from the Moors at\nSallee. Then they had me come on board, and very kindly took me in, and\nall my goods.\nIt was an inexpressible joy to me, that any one would believe that I was\nthus delivered, as I esteemed it, from such a miserable and almost\nhopeless condition as I was in, and immediately offered all I had to the\ncaptain of the ship, as a return for my deliverance; but he generously\ntold me, he would take nothing from me, but that all I had should be\ndelivered safe to me when I came to the Brasils; \u201cFor,\u201d says he, \u201cI have\nsaved your life on no other terms than I would be glad to be saved\nmyself; and it may one time or other be my lot to be taken up in the\nsame condition: Besides,\u201d said he, \u201cwhen I carry you to the Brasils, so\ngreat a way from your own country, if I should take from you what you\nhave, you will be starved there, and then I only take away that life I\nhave given. No, no, Seignor Inglese,\u201d says he, \u201cMr. Englishman, I will\ncarry you thither in charity, and those things will help you to buy your\nsubsistence there, and your passage home again.\u201d\nAs he was charitable in his proposal, so he was just in the performance\nto a tittle; for he ordered the seamen, that none should offer to touch\nany thing I had: then he took every thing into his own possession, and\ngave me back an exact inventory of them, that I might have them; even so\nmuch as my three earthen jars.\nAs to my boat, it was a very good one, and that he saw, and told me he\nwould buy it of me for the ship\u2019s use, and asked me what I would have\nfor it? I told him, he had been so generous to me in everything, that I\ncould not offer to make any price of the boat, but left it entirely to\nhim; upon which he told me he would give me a note of his hand to pay me\neighty pieces of eight for it at Brasil; and when it came there, if any\none offered to give more, he would make it up: he offered me also sixty\npieces of eight more for my boy Xury, which I was loath to take; not\nthat I was not willing to let the captain have him, but I was very loath\nto sell the poor boy\u2019s liberty, who had assisted me so faithfully in\nprocuring my own. However, when I let him know my reason, he owned it to\nbe just, and offered me this medium, that he would give the boy an\nobligation to set him free in ten years, if he turned Christian. Upon\nthis, and Xury saying he was willing to go to him, I let the\ncaptain have him.\nWe had a very good voyage to the Brasils, and arrived in the Bay de\nTodos los Santos, or All Saints\u2019 Bay, in about twenty-two days after.\nAnd now I was once more delivered from the most miserable of all\nconditions of life; and what to do next with myself I was now\nto consider.\nThe generous treatment the captain gave me, I can never enough remember;\nhe would take nothing of me for my passage, gave me twenty ducats for\nthe leopard\u2019s skin, and forty for the lion\u2019s skin which I had in my\nboat, and caused every thing I had in the ship to be punctually\ndelivered me; and what I was willing to sell he bought, such as the case\nof bottles, two of my guns, and a piece of the lump of bees-wax, for I\nhad made candles of the rest; in a word, I made about two hundred and\ntwenty pieces of eight of all my cargo; and with this stock I went on\nshore in the Brasils.\nI had not been long here, but being recommended to the house of a good\nhonest man like himself, who had an _ingeino_ as they call it; that is,\na plantation and a sugarhouse; I lived with him some time, and\nacquainted myself by that means with the manner of their planting and\nmaking of sugar; and seeing how well the planters lived, and how they\ngrew rich suddenly, I resolved, if I could get license to settle there,\nI would turn planter among them, resolving, in the mean time, to find\nout some way to get my money, which I had left in London, remitted to\nme. To this purpose, getting a kind of a letter of naturalization, I\npurchased as much land that was uncured as my money would reach, and\nformed a plan for my plantation and settlement, and such a one as might\nbe suitable to the stock which I proposed to myself to receive\nfrom England.\nI had a neighbour, a Portuguese of Lisbon, but born of English parents,\nwhose name was Wells, and in much such circumstances as I was. I call\nhim neighbour, because his plantation lay next to mine, and we went on\nvery sociable together. My stock was but low, as well as his: and we\nrather planted for food, than any thing else, for about two years.\nHowever, we began to increase, and our land began to come into order; so\nthat the third year we planted some tobacco, and made each of us a large\npiece of ground ready for planting canes in the year to come; but we\nboth wanted help; and now I found, more than before, I had done wrong in\nparting with my boy Xury.\nBut, alas! for me to do wrong, that never did right, was no great\nwonder: I had no remedy but to go on; I was gotten into an employment\nquite remote to my genius, and directly contrary to the life I delighted\nin, and for which I forsook my father\u2019s house, and broke through all his\ngood advice; nay, I was coming into the very middle station, or upper\ndegree of low life, which my father advised me to before; and which if I\nresolved to go on with, I might as well have staid at home, and never\nhave fatigued myself in the world as I had done; and I used often to say\nto myself, I could have done this as well in England among my friends,\nas have gone five thousand miles off to do it, among strangers and\nsavages in a wilderness, and at such distance, as never to hear from any\npart of the world that had the least knowledge of me.\nIn this manner I used to look upon my condition with the utmost regret.\nI had nobody to converse with, but now and then this neighbour; no work\nto be done, but by the labour of my hands; and I used to say, I lived\njust like a man cast away upon some desolate island, that had nobody\nthere but himself. But how just has it been, and how should all men\nreflect, that, when they compare their present conditions with others\nthat are worse, Heaven may oblige them to make the exchange, and be\nconvinced of their former felicity, by their experience; I say, how just\nhas it been, that the truly solitary life I reflected on in, an island\nof mere desolation should be my lot, who had so often unjustly compared\nit with the life which I then led, in which had I continued, I had in\nall probability been exceeding prosperous and rich.\nI was in some degree settled in my measures for carrying on the\nplantation, before my kind friend the captain of the ship, that took me\nup at sea, went back; for the ship remained there, in providing his\nloading, and preparing for his voyage, near three months; when, telling\nhim what little stock I had left behind me in London, he gave me this\nfriendly and sincere advice; \u201cSeignor Inglese,\u201d says he, for so he\nalways called me, \u201cif you will give me letters, and a procuration here\nin form to me, with orders to the person who has your money in London,\nto send your effects to Lisbon, to such persons as I shall direct, and\nin such goods as are proper for this country, I will bring you the\nproduce of them, God willing, at my return; but since human affairs are\nall subject to changes and disasters, I would have you give orders but\nfor one hundred pounds sterling, which you say is half your stock, and\nlet the hazard be run for the first; so that if it come safe, you may\norder the rest the same way; and if it miscarry, you may have the other\nhalf to have recourse to for your supply.\u201d\nThis was so wholesome advice, and looked so friendly, that I could not\nbut be convinced it was the best course I could take; so I accordingly\nprepared letters to the gentlewoman with whom I had left my money, and a\nprocuration to the Portuguese captain, as he desired.\nI wrote the English captain\u2019s widow a full account of all my adventures,\nmy slavery, escape, and how I had met with the Portugal captain at sea,\nthe humanity of his behaviour, and what condition I was now in, with all\nother necessary directions for my supply; and when this honest captain\ncame to Lisbon, he found means, by some of the English merchants there,\nto send over, not the order only, but a full account of my story, to a\nmerchant at London, who represented it effectually to her; whereupon,\nshe not only delivered the money, but out of her own pocket sent the\nPortugal captain a very handsome present for his humanity and charity\nto me.\nThe merchant in London vesting this hundred pounds in English goods,\nsuch as the captain had writ for, sent them directly to him at Lisbon,\nand he brought them all safe to me to the Brasils; among which, without\nmy direction (for I was too young in my business to think of them) he\nhad taken care to have all sort of tools, iron work, and utensils\nnecessary for my plantation, and which were of great use to me.\nWhen this cargo arrived, I thought my fortune made, for I was surprised\nwith joy of it; and my good steward the captain had laid out the five\npounds which my friend had sent him for a present for himself, to\npurchase, and bring me over a servant under bond for six years service,\nand would not accept of any consideration, except a little tobacco,\nwhich I would have him accept, being of my own produce.\nNeither was this all; but my goods being all English manufactures, such\nas cloth, stuffs, baize, and things particularly valuable and desirable\nin the country, I found means to sell them to a very great advantage; so\nthat I may say, I had more than four times the value of my first cargo,\nand was now infinitely beyond my poor neighbour, I mean in the\nadvancement of my plantation; for the first thing I did, I bought me a\nNegro slave, and an European servant also; I mean another besides that\nwhich the captain brought me from Lisbon.\nBut as abused prosperity is oftentimes made the very means of our\ngreatest adversity, so was it with me. I went on the next year with\ngreat success in my plantation: I raised fifty great rolls of tobacco on\nmy own ground, more than I had disposed of for necessaries among my\nneighbours; and these fifty rolls, being each of above a hundred weight,\nwere well cured and laid by against the return of the fleet from Lisbon.\nAnd now, increasing in business and in wealth, my head began to be full\nof projects and undertakings beyond my reach; such as are indeed often\nthe ruin of the best heads in business.\nHad I continued in the station I was now in, I had room for all the\nhappy things to have yet befallen me, for which my father so earnestly\nrecommended a quiet retired life, and of which he had so sensibly\ndescribed the middle station of life to be full; but other things\nattended me, and I was still to be the wilful agent of all my own\nmiseries; and particularly to increase my fault, and double the\nreflections upon myself, which in my future sorrows I should have\nleisure to make; all these miscarriages were procured by my apparent\nobstinate adhering to my foolish inclination of wandering abroad, and\npursuing that inclination, in contradiction to the clearest views of\ndoing myself good in a fair and plain pursuit of those prospects and\nthose measures of life, which nature and Providence concurred to present\nme with, and to make my duty.\nAs I had done thus in my breaking away from my parents, so I could not\nbe content now, but I must go and leave the happy view I had of being a\nrich and thriving man in my new plantation, only to pursue a rash and\nimmoderate desire of rising faster than the nature of the thing\nadmitted; and thus I cast myself down again into the deepest gulf of\nhuman misery that ever man fell into, or perhaps could be consistent\nwith life and a state of health in the world.\nTo come then by just degrees to the particulars of this part of my\nstory; you may suppose, that having now lived almost four years in the\nBrasils, and beginning to thrive and prosper very well upon my\nplantation, I had not only learnt the language, but had contracted\nacquaintance and friendship among my fellow-planters, as well as among\nthe merchants at St. Salvadore, which was our port; and that in my\ndiscourse among them, I had frequently given them an account of my two\nvoyages to the coast of Guinea, the manner of trading with the Negroes\nthere, and how easy it was to purchase upon the coast, for trifles, such\nas beads, toys, knives, scissars, hatchets, bits of glass, and the like,\nnot only gold-dust, Guinea grains, elephants teeth, &c. but Negroes for\nthe service of the Brasils in great numbers.\nThey listened always very attentively to my discourses on these heads,\nbut especially to that part which related to the buying Negroes, which\nwas a trade at that time not only not far entered into, but, as far as\nit was, had been carried on by the Assientos for permission of the\nkings of Spain and Portugal, and engrossed in the public, so that few\nNegroes were brought, and those excessive dear.would undertake to look\nIt happened, being in company with some merchants and planters of my\nacquaintance, and talking of those things very earnestly, three of\nthem came to me the next morning, and told me they had been musing\nvery much upon what I had discoursed with them of, the last night, and\nthey came to make a secret proposal to me; and after enjoining me to\nsecrecy, they told me, that they had a mind to fit out a ship to go to\nGuinea; that they had all plantations as well as I, and were straitened\nfor nothing so much as servants; that as it was a trade could not be\ncarried on, because they could not publicly sell the Negroes when they\ncame home, so they desired to make but one voyage, to bring the Negroes\non shore privately, and divide them among their own plantations; and in\na word, the question was, whether I would go their supercargo in the\nship, to manage the trading part upon the coast of Guinea? and they\noffered me that I should have my equal share of the Negroes, without\nproviding any part of the stock.\nThis was a fair proposal, it must be confessed, had it been made to any\none that had not had a settlement and plantation of his own to look\nafter, which was in a fair way of coming to be very considerable, and\nwith a good stock upon it. But for me, that was thus entered and\nestablished, and had nothing to do but go on as I had begun, for three\nor four years more, and to have sent for the other hundred pounds from\nEngland, and who in that time, and with that little addition, could\nscarce have failed of being worth three or four thousand pounds\nsterling, and that increasing too; for me to think of such a voyage, was\nthe most preposterous thing that ever man in such circumstances could be\nguilty of.\nBut I, that was born to be my own destroyer, could no more resist the\noffer, than I could restrain my first rambling designs, when my father\u2019s\ngood counsel was lost upon me. In a word, I told them I would go with\nall my heart, if they would undertake to look after my plantation in my\nabsence, and would dispose of it to such as I should direct if I\nmiscarried. This they all engaknew his dangerged to do, and entered into writings or\ncovenants to do so; and I made a formal will, disposing of my plantation\nand effects, in case of my death, making the captain of the ship that\nhad saved my life as before, my universal heir, but obliging him to\ndispose of my effects as I had directed in my will, one half of the\nproduce being to himself, and the other to be shipped to England.\nIn short, I took all possible caution to preserve my effects, and keep\nup my plantation: had I used half as much prudence to have looked into\nmy own interest, and have made a judgment of what I ought to have done,\nand not to have done, I had certainly never gone away from so prosperous\nan undertaking, leaving all the probable views of a thriving\ncircumstance, and gone upon a voyage to sea, attended with all its\ncommon hazards; to say nothing of the reasons I had to expect particular\nmisfortunes to myself.\nBut I was hurried on, and obeyed blindly the dictates of my fancy rather\nthan my reason: and accordingly the ship being fitted out, and the cargo\nfurnished, and all things done as by agreement, by my partners in the\nvoyage, I went on board in an evil hour, the 1st of September, 1650,\nbeing the same day eight years that I went from my father and mother at\nHull, in order to act the rebel to their authority, and the fool to my\nown interest.\nOur ship was about one hundred and twenty ton burden, carrying six guns,\nand fourteen men, besides the master, his boy, and myself; we had on\nboard no large cargo of goods, except of such toys as were fit for our\ntrade with the Negroes, such as beads, bits of glass, shells, and odd\ntrifles, especially little looking-glasses, knives, scissars, hatchets,\nand the like.\nThe same day I went on board we set sail, standing away to the northward\nupon our own coast, with design to stretch over for the African coast;\nwhen they came about 10 or 12 degrees of northern latitude, which it\nseems was the manner of their course in those days. We had very good\nweather, only excessive hot, all the way upon our own coast, till we\nmade the height of Cape St. Augustino, from whence keeping farther off\nat sea we lost sight of land, and steered as if we were bound for the\nisle Fernand de Noronha, holding our course N.E. by N. and leaving those\nisles on the east. In this course we passed the line in about twelve\ndays time, and were by our last observation in 7 degrees 22 min.\nnorthern latitude, when a violent tornado or hurricane took us quite out\nof our knowledge; it began from the south-east, came about to the\nnorth-west, and then settled into the north-east, from whence it blew in\nsuch a terrible manner, that for twelve days together we could do\nnothing but drive; and scudding away before it, let it carry us whither\never fate and the fury of the winds directed; and during these twelve\ndays, I need not say that I expected every day to be swallowed up, nor\nindeed did any in the ship expect to save their lives.\nIn this distress, we had, besides the terror of the storm, one of our\nmen die of the calenture, and one man and the boy washed overboard;\nabout the twelfth day the weather abating a little, the master made an\nobservation as well as he could, and found that he was in about 11\ndegrees north latitude, but that he was 22 degrees of longitude\ndifference west from Cape St. Augustino; so that he found he was gotten\nupon the coast of Guinea, or the north part of Brasil, beyond the river\nAmazones, toward that of the river Oronoque, commonly called the Great\nRiver, and began to consult with me what course he should take, for the\nship was leaky and very much disabled, and he was going directly back to\nthe coast of Brasil.\nI was positively against that, and looking over the charts of the sea\ncoasts of America with him we concluded there was no inhabited country\nfor us to have recourse to, till we came within the circle of the\nCaribbee islands, and therefore resolved to stand away for Barbadoes,\nwhich by keeping off at sea, to avoid the indraft of the bay or gulf of\nMexico, we might easily perform, as we hoped, in about fifteen days\nsail; whereas we could not possibly make our voyage to the coast of\nAfrica without some assistance, both to our ship and to ourselves.\nWith this design we changed our course, and steered away N.W. by W. in\norder to reach some of our English islands, where I hoped for relief;\nbut our voyage was otherwise determined; for being in the latitude of 12\ndeg. 18 min. a second storm came upon us, which carried us away with the\nsame impetuosity westward, and drove us so out of the very way of all\nhuman commerce, that had all our lives been saved, as to the sea, we\nwere rather in danger of being devoured by savages than ever returning\nto our own country.\nIn this distress, the wind still blowing very hard, one of our men early\nin the morning cried out, _Land!_ and we had no sooner run out of the\ncabin to look out in hopes of seeing whereabouts in the world we were,\nbut the ship struck upon a sand, and in a moment, her motion being so\nstopped, the sea broke over her in such a manner, that we expected we\nshould all have perished immediately; and we were immediately driven\ninto our close quarters to shelter us from the very foam and spray\nof the sea.\nIt is not easy for any one, who has not been in the like condition, to\ndescribe or conceive the consternation of men in such circumstances; we\nknew nothing where we were, or upon what land it was we were driven,\nwhether an island or the main, whether inhabited or not inhabited; and\nas the rage of the wind was still great, though rather less than at\nfirst, we could not so much as hope to have the ship hold many minutes\nwithout breaking in pieces, unless the winds by a kind of miracle should\nturn immediately about. In a word, we sat looking one upon another, and\nexpecting death every moment, and every man acting accordingly, as\npreparing for another world, for there was little or nothing more for us\nto do in this; that which was our present comfort, and all the comfort\nwe had, was, that, contrary to our expectation, the ship did not break\nyet, and that the master said the wind began to abate.\nNow though we thought that the wind did a little abate, yet the ship\nhaving thus struck upon the sand, and sticking too fast for us to expect\nher getting off, we were in a dreadful condition indeed, and had nothing\nto do but to think of saving our lives as well as we could. We had a\nboat at our stern, just before the storm; but she was first staved by\ndashing against the ship\u2019s rudder, and in the next place she broke away,\nand either sunk or was driven off to sea; so there was no hope from her.\nWe had another boat on board, but how to get her off into the sea was a\ndoubtful thing; however, there was no room to debate, for we fancied the\nship would break in pieces every minute, and some told us she was\nactually broken already.\nIn this distress, the mate of our vessel lays hold of the boat, and with\nthe help of the rest of the men they got her slung over the ship\u2019s side,\nand getting all into her, let go, and committed ourselves, being eleven\nin number, to God\u2019s mercy and the wild sea; for though the storm was\nabated considerably, yet the sea went dreadful high upon the shore, and\nmight well be called _den wild zee_, as the Dutch call the sea in\na storm.\nAnd now our case was very dismal indeed; for we all saw plainly, that\nthe sea went so high, that the boat could not live, and that we should\nbe inevitably drowned. As to making sail, we had none, nor, if we had,\ncould we have done any thing with it; so we worked at the oar towards\nthe land, though with heavy hearts, like men going to execution; for we\nall knew, that when the boat came nearer the shore, she would be dashed\ninto a thousand pieces by the breach of the sea. However, we committed\nour souls to God in the most earnest manner; and the wind driving us\ntowards the shore, we hastened our destruction with our own hands,\npulling as well as we could towards land.\nWhat the shore was, whether rock or sand, whether steep or shoal, we\nknew not; the only hope that could rationally give us the least shadow\nof expectation, was, if we might happen into some bay or gulf, or the\nmouth of some river, where, by great chance, we might have run our boat\nin, or got under the lee of the land, and perhaps made smooth water. But\nthere was nothing of this appeared; but as we made nearer and nearer the\nshore, the land looked more frightful than the sea.\nAfter we had rowed, or rather driven about a league and a half, as we\nreckoned it, a raging wave, mountain-like, came rolling astern of us,\nand plainly had us expect the _coup-de-grace_. In a word, it took us\nwith such a fury, that it overset the boat at once; and separating us as\nwell from the boat, as from one another, gave us not time hardly to say\nO God! for we were all swallowed up in a moment.\nNothing can describe the confusion of thought which I felt when I sunk\ninto the water; for though I swam very well, yet I could not deliver\nmyself from the waves so as to draw breath, till that wave having driven\nme, or rather carried me a vast way on towards the shore, and having\nspent itself, went back, and left me upon the land almost dry, but half\ndead with the water I took in. I had so much presence of mind as well as\nbreath left, that, seeing myself nearer the main land than I expected, I\ngot upon my feet, and endeavoured to make on towards the land as fast as\nI could, before another wave should return, and take me up again. But I\nsoon found it was impossible to avoid it; for I saw the sea come after\nme as high as a great hill, and as furious as an enemy which I had no\nmeans or strength to contend with; my business was to hold my breath,\nand raise myself upon the water, if I could; and so by swimming to\npreserve my breathing, and pilot myself towards the shore, if possible;\nmy greatest concern now being, that the sea, as it would carry me a\ngreat way towards the shore when it came on, might not carry me back\nagain with it when it gave back towards the sea.\nThe wave that came upon me again, buried me at once twenty or thirty\nfoot deep in its own body; and I could feel myself carried with a mighty\nforce and swiftness towards the shore a very great way; but I held my\nbreath, and assisted myself to swim still forward with all my might. I\nwas ready to burst with holding my breath, when, as I felt myself rising\nup, so, to my immediate relief, I found my head and hands shoot out\nabove the surface of the water; and though it was not two seconds of\ntime that I could keep myself so, yet it relieved me greatly, gave me\nbreath and new courage. I was covered again with water a good while, but\nnot so long but I held it out; and finding the water had spent itself,\nand began to return, I struck forward against the return of the waves,\nand felt ground again with my feet. I stood still a few moments to\nrecover breath, and till the water went from me, and then took to my\nheels, and ran with what strength I had farther towards the shore. But\nneither would this deliver me from the fury of the sea, which came\npouring in after me again; and twice more I was lifted up by the waves\nand carried forwards as before, the shore being very flat.\nThe last time of these two had well near been fatal to me; for the sea\nhaving hurried me along as before, landed me, or rather dashed me\nagainst a piece of a rock, and that with such force, as it left me\nsenseless, and indeed helpless, as to my own deliverance; for the blow\ntaking my side and breast, beat the breath as it were quite out of my\nbody; and had it returned again immediately, I must have been strangled\nin the water; but I recovered a little before the return of the waves,\nand seeing I should be covered again with the water, I resolved to hold\nfast by a piece of the rock, and so to hold my breath, if possible, till\nthe wave went back. Now as the waves were not so high as at first,\nbeing near land, I held my hold till the wave abated, and then fetched\nanother run, which brought me so near the shore, that the next wave,\nthough it went over me, yet did not so swallow me up as to carry me\naway; and the next run I took I got to the main land, where, to my great\ncomfort, I clambered up the clifts of the shore, and sat me down upon\nthe grass, free from danger, and quite out of the reach of the water.\nI was now landed, and safe on shore, and began to look up and thank God\nthat my life was saved in a case wherein there was some minutes before\nscarce any room to hope. I believe it is impossible to express to the\nlife what the ecstasies and transports of the soul are, when it is so\nsaved, as I may say, out of the very grave; and I do not wonder now at\nthat custom, viz. that when a malefactor, who has the halter about his\nneck, is tied up, and just going to be turned off, and has a reprieve\nbrought to him: I say, I do not wonder that they bring a surgeon with\nit, to let him blood that very moment they tell him of it, that the\nsurprise may not drive the animal spirits from the heart, and\noverwhelm him:\n     For sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first.\nI walked about on the shore, lifting up my hands and my whole being, as\nI may say, wrapt up in the contemplation of my deliverance, making a\nthousand gestures and motions which I cannot describe; reflecting upon\nall my comrades that were drowned, and that there should not be one soul\nsaved but myself; for, as for them, I never saw them afterwards, or any\nsign of them, except three of their hats, one cap, and two shoes that\nwere not fellows.\nI cast my eyes to the stranded vessel, when the breach and troth of the\nsea being so big, I could hardly see it, it lay so far off, and\nconsidered, Lord! how was it possible I could get on shore!\nAfter I had solaced my mind with the comfortable part of my condition,\nI began to look round me, to see what kind of place I was in, and what\nwas next to be done; and I soon found my comforts abate, and that in a\nword I had a dreadful deliverance; for I was wet, had no clothes to\nshift me, nor any thing either to eat or drink to comfort me; neither\ndid I see any prospect before me, but that of perishing with hunger, or\nbeing devoured by wild beasts; and that which was particularly\nafflicting to me, was, that I had no weapon either to hunt and kill any\ncreature for my sustenance, or to defend myself against any other\ncreature that might desire to kill me for theirs; in a word, I had\nnothing about me but a knife, a tobacco pipe, and a little tobacco in a\nbox; this was all my provision, and this threw me into terrible agonies\nof mind, that for a while I ran about like a madman. Night coming upon\nme, I began with a heavy heart to consider what would be my lot if there\nwere any ravenous beasts in that country, seeing at night they always\ncome abroad for their prey.\nAll the remedy that offered to my thoughts at that time, was, to get up\ninto a thick bushy tree like a fir, but thorny, which grew near me, and\nwhere I resolved to sit all night, and consider the next day what death\nI should die, for as yet I saw no prospect of life. I walked about a\nfurlong from the shore, to see if I could find any fresh water to drink,\nwhich I did, to my great joy; and having drank, and put a little tobacco\nin my mouth to prevent hunger, I went to the tree, and getting up into\nit, endeavoured to place myself so, as that if I should sleep I might\nnot fall; and having cut me a short stick, like a truncheon, for my\ndefence, I took up my lodging, and having been excessively fatigued, I\nfell fast asleep, and slept as comfortably as, I believe, few could have\ndone in my condition, and found myself the most refreshed with it that I\nthink I ever was on such an occasion.\nWhen I waked it was broad day, the weather clear, and the storm abated,\nso that the sea did not rage and swell as before; but that which\nsurprised me most was, that the ship was lifted off in the night from\nthe sand where she lay, by the swelling of the tide, and was driven up\nalmost as far as the rock which I first mentioned, where I had been so\nbruised by the dashing me against it; this being within about a mile\nfrom the shore where I was, and the ship seeming to stand upright still,\nI wished myself on board, that, at least, I might save some necessary\nthings for my use.\nWhen I came down from my apartment in the tree, I looked about me again,\nand the first thing I found was the boat, which lay as the wind and the\nsea had tossed her up upon the land, about two miles on my right hand. I\nwalked as far as I could upon the shore to have got to her, but found a\nneck or inlet of water between me and the boat, which was about half a\nmile broad; so I came back for the present, being more intent upon\ngetting at the ship, where I hoped to find something for my present\nsubsistence.\nA little after noon I found the sea very calm, and the tide ebbed so far\nout, that I could come within a quarter of a mile of the ship; and here\nI found a fresh renewing of my grief: for I saw evidently, that if we\nhad kept on board, we had been all safe, that is to say, we had all got\nsafe on shore, and I had not been so miserable as to be left entirely\ndestitute of all comfort and company, as I now was. This forced tears\nfrom my eyes again; but as there was little relief in that, I resolved,\nif possible, to get to the ship; so I pulled off my clothes, for the\nweather was hot to extremity, and took the water; but when I came to the\nship, my difficulty was still greater to know how to get on board; for\nas she lay aground, and high out of the water, there was nothing within\nmy reach to lay hold of. I swam round her twice, and the second time I\nspied a small piece of a rope, which I wondered I did not see at first,\nhang down by the fore-chains so low as that with great difficulty I got\nhold of it, and by the help of that rope got up into the forecastle of\nthe ship. Here I found that the ship was bulged, and had a great deal of\nwater in her hold, but that she lay so on the side of a bank of hard\nsand, or rather earth, and her stern lay lifted up upon the bank, and\nher head low almost to the water: by this means all her quarter was\nfree, and all that was in that part was dry; for you may be sure my\nfirst work was to search and to see what was spoiled and what was free;\nand first I found that all the ship\u2019s provisions were dry and untouched\nby the water; and being very well disposed to eat, I went to the\nbread-room and filled my pockets with bisket, and ate it as I went about\nother things, for I had no time to lose. I also found some rum in the\ngreat cabin, of which I took a large drain, and which I had indeed need\nenough of to spirit me for what was before me. Now I wanted nothing but\na boat to furnish myself with many things which I foresaw would be very\nnecessary to me.\nIt was in vain to sit still and wish for what was not to be had; and\nthis extremity roused my application. We had several spare yards, and\ntwo or three large spars of wood, and a spare topmast or two in the\nship; I resolved to fall to work with these, and flung as many of them\noverboard as I could manage of their weight, tying every one with a\nrope, that they might not drive away. When this was done I went down the\nship\u2019s side, and pulling them to me, I tied four of them fast together\nat both ends as well as I could, in the form of a raft, and laying two\nor three short pieces of plank upon them crossways, I found I could walk\nupon it very well, but that it was not able to bear any great weight,\nthe pieces being too light; so I went to work, and with the carpenter\u2019s\nsaw I cut a spare topmast into three lengths, and added them to my raft,\nwith a great deal of labour and pains; but hope of furnishing myself\nwith necessaries encouraged me to go beyond what I should have been able\nto have done upon another occasion.\nMy raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable weight; my next\ncare was what to load it with, and how to preserve what I laid upon it\nfrom the surf of the sea; but I was not long considering this: I first\nlaid all the planks or boards upon it that I could get, and having\nconsidered well what I most wanted, I first got three of the seamen\u2019s\nchests, which I had broken open and emptied, and lowered them down upon\nmy raft. The first of these I filled with provisions, viz. bread, rice,\nthree Dutch cheeses, five pieces of dried goat\u2019s flesh, which we lived\nmuch upon, and a little remainder of European corn which had been laid\nby for some fowls which we brought to sea with us, but the fowls were\nkilled. There had been some barley and wheat together, but, to my great\ndisappointment, I found afterwards that the rats had eaten or spoiled it\nall. As for liquors, I found several cases of bottles belonging to our\nskipper, in which were some cordial waters, and in all above five or six\ngallons of rack: these I stowed by themselves, there being no need to\nput them into the chest, nor no room for them. While I was doing this, I\nfound the tide began to flow, though very calm, and I had the\nmortification to see my coat, shirt, and waistcoat, which I had left on\nshore upon the sand, swim away; as for my breeches, which were only\nlinen, and open-kneed, I swam on board in them and my stockings:\nhowever, this put me upon rummaging for clothes, of which I found\nenough, but took no more than I wanted for present use, for I had other\nthings which my eye was more upon; as, first, tools to work with on\nshore; and it was after long searching that I found out the carpenter\u2019s\nchest, which was indeed a very useful prize to me, and much more\nvaluable than a ship-loading of gold would have been at that time: I got\nit down to my raft, even whole as it was, without losing time to look\ninto it, for I knew in general what it contained.\nMy next care was for some ammunition and arms. There were two very good\nfowling-pieces in the great cabin, and two pistols: these I secured\nfirst, with some powder horns, and a small bag of shot, and two old\nrusty swords. I knew there were three barrels of powder in the ship,\nbut knew not where our gunner had stowed them; but with much search I\nfound them, two of them dry and good, the third had taken water; those\ntwo I got to my raft, with the arms. And now I thought myself pretty\nwell freighted, and began to think how I should get to shore with them,\nhaving neither sail, oar, or rudder, and the least capful of wind would\nhave overset all my navigation.\nI had three encouragements: 1. A smooth, calm sea; 2. The tide rising\nand setting in to the shore; 3. What little wind there was blew me\ntowards the land: and thus, having found two or three broken oars\nbelonging to the boat, and besides the tools which were in the chest, I\nfound two saws, an axe, and a hammer; and with this cargo I put to sea:\nfor a mile, or thereabouts, my raft went very well, only that I found it\ndrive a little distant from the place where I had landed before, by\nwhich I perceived that there was some indraft of the water, and\nconsequently I hoped to find some creek or river there, which I might\nmake use of as a port to get to land with my cargo.\nAs I imagined, so it was: there appeared before me a little opening of\nthe land, and I found a strong current of the tide set into it, so I\nguided my raft as well as I could to keep in the middle of the stream;\nbut here I had like to have suffered a second shipwreck, which, if I\nhad, I think verily would have broke my heart; for knowing nothing of\nthe coast, my raft run aground at one end of it upon a shoal, and not\nbeing aground at the other end, it wanted but a little that all my cargo\nhad slipped off towards that end that was afloat, and so fallen into the\nwater. I did my utmost, by setting my back against the chests, to keep\nthem in their places, but could not thrust off the raft with all my\nstrength; neither durst I stir from the posture I was in, but holding up\nthe chests with all my might, stood in that manner near half an hour, in\nwhich time the rising of the water brought me a little more upon a\nlevel; and a little after, the water still rising, my raft floated\nagain, and I thrust her off with the oar I had into the channel; and\nthen driving up higher, I at length found myself in the mouth of a\nlittle river, with land on both sides, and a strong current or tide\nrunning up. I looked on both sides for a proper place to get to shore;\nfor I was not willing to be driven too high up the river, hoping in time\nto see some ship at sea, and therefore resolved to place myself as near\nthe coast as I could.\nAt length I spied a little cove on the right shore of the creek, to\nwhich, with great pain and difficulty, I guided my raft, and at last got\nso near, as that, reaching ground with my oar, I could thrust her\ndirectly in; but here I had like to have dipped all my cargo in the sea\nagain; for that shore lying pretty steep, that is to say sloping, there\nwas no place to land, but where one end of the float, if it run on\nshore, would lie so high, and the other sink lower as before, that it\nwould endanger my cargo again: all that I could do, was to wait till the\ntide was at the highest, keeping the raft with my oar like an anchor to\nhold the side of it fast to the shore, near a flat piece of ground,\nwhich I expected the water would flow over; and so it did. As soon as I\nfound water enough, for my raft drew about a foot of water, I thrust her\non upon that flat piece of ground, and there fastened or moored her by\nsticking my two broken oars into the ground; one on one side near one\nend, and one on the other side near the other end; and thus I lay till\nthe water ebbed away, and left my raft and all my cargo safe on shore.\nMy next work was to view the country, and seek a proper place for my\nhabitation, and where to stow my goods, to secure them from whatever\nmight happen. Where I was I yet knew not; whether on the continent or on\nan island, whether inhabited or not inhabited, whether in danger of wild\nbeasts or not. There was a hill not above a mile from me, which rose up\nvery steep and high, and which seemed to overtop some other hills which,\nlay as in a ridge from it northward: I took out one of the\nfowling-pieces, and one of the pistols, and an horn of powder, and thus\narmed I travelled for discovery up to the top of that hill, where, after\nI had with great labour and difficulty got to the top, I saw my fates to\nmy great affliction, viz. that I was in an island environed every way\nwith the sea, no land to be seen, except some rocks which lay a great\nway off, and two small islands less than this, which lay about three\nleagues to the west.\nI found also that the island I was in was barren, and, as I saw good\nreason to believe, uninhabited, except by wild beasts, of whom, however,\nI saw none; yet I saw abundance of fowls, but knew not their kinds;\nneither when I killed them could I tell what was fit for food, and what\nnot. At my coming back I shot at a great bird, which I saw sitting upon\na tree on the side of a great wood\u2014I believe it was the first gun that\nhad been fired there since the creation of the world. I had no sooner\nfired, but from all parts of the wood there arose an innumerable number\nof fowls of many sorts, making a confused screaming, and crying every\none according to his usual note; but not one of them of any kind that I\nknew. As for the creature I killed, I took it to be a kind of a hawk,\nits colour and beak resembling it, but had no talons or claws more than\ncommon; its flesh was carrion, and fit for nothing.\nContented with this discovery, I came back to my raft, and fell to work\nto bring my cargo on shore, which took me up the rest of that day; and\nwhat to do with myself at night I knew not, nor indeed where to rest;\nfor I was afraid to lie down on the ground, not knowing but some wild\nbeast might devour me; though, as I afterwards found, there was really\nno need for those fears.\nHowever, as well as I could, I barricadoed myself round with the chests\nand boards that I had brought on shore, and made a kind of a hut for\nthat night\u2019s lodging. As for food, I yet saw not which way to supply\nmyself, except that I had seen two or three creatures like hares run\nout of the wood where I shot the fowl.\nI now began to consider, that I might yet get a great many things out of\nthe ship, which would be useful to me, and particularly some of the\nrigging and sails, and such other things as might come to land, and I\nresolved to make another voyage on board the vessel, if possible; and as\nI knew that the first storm that blew must necessarily break her all in\npieces, I resolved to set all other things apart, till I got every thing\nout of the ship that I could get. Then I called a council, that is to\nsay, in my thoughts, whether I should take back the raft; but this\nappeared impracticable; so I resolved to go as before, when the tide was\ndown, and I did so, only that I stripped before I went from my hut,\nhaving nothing on but a checked shirt and a pair of linen trowsers, and\na pair of pumps on my feet.\nI got on board the ship, as before, and prepared a second raft; and\nhaving had experience of the first, I neither made this so unwieldy, nor\nloaded it so hard, but yet I brought away several things very useful to\nme; as first, in the carpenter\u2019s stores I found two or three bags full\nof nails and spikes, a great screw-jack, a dozen or two of hatchets,\nand, above all, that most useful thing called a grindstone; all these I\nsecured, together with several things belonging to the gunner,\nparticularly two or three iron crows, and two barrels of musket-bullets,\nseven muskets, and another fowling-piece, with some small quantity of\npowder more; a large bag full of small shot, and a great roll of sheet\nlead; but this last was so heavy I could not hoist it up to get it over\nthe ship\u2019s side.\nBesides these things, I took all the men\u2019s clothes that I could find,\nand a spare fore-topsail, hammock, and some bedding; and with this I\nloaded my second raft, and brought them all safe on shore, to my very\ngreat comfort.\nI was under some apprehensions during my absence from the land, that at\nleast my provisions might be devoured on shore; but when I came back, I\nfound no sign of any visitor, only there sat a creature like a wild cat\nupon one of the chests, which, when I came towards it, ran away a little\ndistance, and then stood still; she sat very composed and unconcerned,\nand looked full in my face, as if she had a mind to be acquainted with\nme; I presented my gun at her, but as she did not understand it, she was\nperfectly unconcerned at it, nor did she offer to stir away; upon which\nI tossed her a bit of biscuit, though by the way I was not very free of\nit, for my store was not great: however, I spared her a bit, I say, and\nshe went to it, smelled of it, and ate it, and looked, as pleased, for\nmore; but I thanked her, and could spare no more; so she marched off.\nHaving got my second cargo on shore, though I was fain to open the\nbarrels of powder, and bring them by parcels, for they were too heavy,\nbeing large casks, I went to work to make me a little tent with the sail\nand some poles which I cut for that purpose; and into this tent I\nbrought every thing that I knew would spoil, either with rain or sun;\nand I piled all the empty chests and casks up in a circle round the\ntent, to fortify it from any sudden attempt, either from man or beast.\nWhen I had done this, I blocked up the door of the tent with some boards\nwithin; and an empty chest set up an end without, and spreading one of\nthe beds upon the ground, laying my two pistols just at my head, and my\ngun at length by me, I went to bed for the first time, and slept very\nquietly all night, for I was very weary and heavy, as the night before I\nhad slept little, and had laboured very hard all day, as well to fetch\nall those things from the ship as to get them on shore.\nI had the biggest magazine of all kinds now that ever were laid up, I\nbelieve, for one man; but I was not satisfied still; for while the ship\nsat upright in that posture, I thought I ought to get every thing out of\nher that I could; so every day at low water I went on board, and\nbrought away something or other; but particularly the third time I went,\nI brought away as much of the rigging as I could, as also all the small\nropes and rope-twine I could get, with a piece of spare canvass, which\nwas to mend the sails upon occasion, and the barrel of wet gunpowder; in\na word, I brought away all the sails first and last, only that I was\nfain to cut them in pieces, and bring as much at a time as I could; for\nthey were no more useful to be sails, but as mere canvass only.\nBut that which comforted me more still, was, that at last of all, after\nI had made five or six such voyages as these, and thought I had nothing\nmore to expect from the ship that was worth my meddling with; I say,\nafter all this, I found a great hogshead of bread, and three large\nrunlets of rum or spirits, and a box of sugar, and a barrel of fine\nflower; this was surprising to me, because I had given over expecting\nany more provisions, except what was spoiled by the water: I soon\nemptied the hogshead of that bread, and wrapped it up, parcel by parcel,\nin pieces of the sails, which I cut out; and in a word, I got all this\nsafe on shore also.\nThe next day I made another voyage; and now, having plundered the ship\nof what was portable and fit to hand out, I began with the cables; and\ncutting the great cable into pieces, such as I could move, I got two\ncables and a hawser on shore, with all the iron-work I could get; and\nhaving cut down the spritsail-yard, and the mizen-yard, and every thing\nI could to make a large raft, I loaded it with all those heavy goods,\nand came away: but my good luck began now to leave me; for this raft was\nso unwieldy and so overladen, that after I had entered the little cove\nwhere I had landed the rest of my goods, not being able to guide it so\nhandily as I did the other, it overset, and threw me and all my cargo\ninto the water. As for myself, it was no great harm, for I was near the\nshore; but as to my cargo, it was great part of it lost, especially the\niron, which I expected would have been of great use to me: however,\nwhen the tide was out, I got most of the pieces of cable ashore, and\nsome of the iron, though with infinite labour; for I was fain to dip for\nit into the water, a work which fatigued me very much. After this, I\nwent every day on board, and brought away what I could get.\nI had been now thirteen days on shore, and had been eleven times on\nboard the ship; in which time I had brought away all that one pair of\nhands could well be supposed capable to bring, though I believe, verily,\nhad the calm weather held, I should have brought away the whole ship,\npiece by piece; but preparing the twelfth time to go on board, I found\nthe wind began to rise; however, at low water I went on board, and\nthough I thought I had rummaged the cabin so effectually, as that\nnothing more could be found, yet I discovered a locker with drawers in\nit, in one of which I found two or three razors, and one pair of large\nscissars, with some ten or a dozen of good knives and forks; in another\nI found about thirty-six pounds value in money, some European coin, some\nBrasil, some pieces of eight, some gold, some silver.\nI smiled to myself at the sight of this money. \u201cO drug!\u201d said I, aloud,\n\u201cwhat art thou good for? thou art not worth to me, no not the taking off\nof the ground; one of those knives is worth all this heap; I have no\nmanner of use for thee; even remain where thou art, and go to the bottom\nas a creature whose life is not worth saving.\u201d However, upon second\nthoughts, I took it away, and wrapping all this in a piece of canvass, I\nbegan to think of making another raft; but while I was preparing this, I\nfound the sky overcast, and the wind began to rise, and in a quarter of\nan hour it blew a fresh gale from the shore. It presently occurred to\nme, that it was in vain to pretend to make a raft with the wind off\nshore, and that it was my business to be gone before the tide of flood\nbegan, otherwise I might not be able to reach the shore at all;\naccordingly I let myself down into the water, and swam cross the\nchannel which lay between the ship and the sands, and even that with\ndifficulty enough, partly with the weight of things I had about me, and\npartly the roughness of the water, for the wind rose very hastily, and\nbefore it was quite high water it blew a storm.\nBut I was gotten home to my little tent, where I lay with all my wealth\nabout me very secure. It blew very hard all that night, and in the\nmorning when I looked out, behold no more ship was to be seen. I was a\nlittle surprised, but recovered myself with this satisfactory\nreflection, viz. that I had lost no time, nor abated no diligence to get\nevery thing out of her that could be useful to me, and that indeed there\nwas little left in her that I was able to bring away, if I had had\nmore time.\nI now gave over any more thoughts of the ship, or of any thing out of\nher, except what might drive on shore from her wreck, as indeed divers\npieces of her afterwards did; but those things were of small use to me.\nMy thoughts were now wholly employed about securing myself against\neither savages, if any should appear, or wild beasts, if any were in the\nisland; and I had many thoughts of the method how to do this, and what\nkind of dwelling to make; whether I should make me a cave in the earth,\nor a tent upon the earth: and, in short, I resolved upon both, the\nmanner and description of which it may not be improper to give an\naccount of.\nI soon found the place I was in was not for my settlement, particularly\nbecause it was upon a low moorish ground near the sea, and I believed\nwould not be wholesome, and more particularly because there was no fresh\nwater near it; so I resolved to find a more healthy and more convenient\nspot of ground.\nI consulted several things in my situation which I found would be proper\nfor me: 1st, Health, and fresh water, I just now mentioned, 2dly,\nShelter from the heat of the sun. 3dly, Security from ravenous\ncreatures, whether man or beast. 4thly, A view to the sea, that, if God\nsent any ship in sight, I might not lose any advantage for my\ndeliverance, of which I was not willing to banish all my\nexpectation yet.\nIn search of a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the side\nof a rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep as a\nhouse-side, so that nothing could come down upon me from the top: on the\nside of this rock there was a hollow place worn a little way in like the\nentrance or door of a cave, but there was not really any cave or way\ninto the rock at all.\nOn the flat of the green, just before this hollow place, I resolved to\npitch my tent: this plain was not above an hundred yards broad, and\nabout twice as long, and lay like a green before my door, and at the end\nof it descended irregularly every way down into the low grounds by the\nsea-side. It was on the N.N.W. side of the hill, so that I was sheltered\nfrom the heat every day, till it came to a W. and by S. sun, or\nthereabouts, which in those countries is near the setting.\nBefore I set up my tent, I drew a half-circle before the hollow place,\nwhich took in about ten yards in its semi-diameter from the rock, and\ntwenty yards in its diameter, from its beginning and ending.\nIn this half circle I pitched two rows of strong stakes, driving them\ninto the ground till they stood very firm, like piles, the biggest end\nbeing out of the ground about five foot and a half, and sharpened on the\ntop; the two rows did not stand above six inches from one another.\nThen I took the pieces of cable which I had cut in the ship, and laid\nthem in rows one upon another, within the circle between these two rows\nof stakes, up to the top, placing other stakes in the inside, leaning\nagainst them, about two foot and a half high, like a spur to a post; and\nthis fence was so strong, that neither man or beast could get into it or\nover it: this cost me a great deal of time and labour, especially to cut\nthe piles in the woods, bring them to the place, and drive them into\nthe earth.\nThe entrance into this place I made to be not by a door, but by a short\nladder, to go over the top: which ladder, when I was in, I lifted over\nafter me: and so I was completely fenced in, and fortified, as I\nthought, from all the world, and consequently slept secure in the night,\nwhich otherwise I could not have done, though, as it appeared afterward,\nthere was no need of all this caution from the enemies that I\napprehended danger from.\nInto this fence or fortress, with infinite labour, I carried all my\nriches, all my provisions, ammunition, and stores, of which you have the\naccount above; and I made me a large tent, which, to preserve me from\nthe rains, that in one part of the year are very violent there, I made\ndouble, viz. one smaller tent within, and one larger tent above it, and\ncovered the uppermost with a large tarpaulin which I had saved among\nthe sails.\nAnd now I lay no more for awhile in the bed which I had brought on\nshore, but in a hammock, which was indeed a very good one, and belonged\nto the mate of the ship.\nInto this tent I brought all my provisions, and every thing that would\nspoil by the wet; and having thus enclosed all my goods, I made up the\nentrance, which till now I had left open, and so passed and repassed, as\nI said, by a short ladder.\nWhen I had done this, I began to work my way into the rock, and bringing\nall the earth and stones that I dug down, out through my tent, I laid\nthem up within my fence in the nature of a terrace, that so it raised\nthe ground within about a foot and a half; and thus I made me a cave\njust behind my tent, which served me like a cellar to my house.\nIt cost me much labour, and many days, before all these things were\nbrought to perfection, and therefore I must go back to some other things\nwhich took up some of my thoughts. At the same time it happened, after\nI had laid my scheme for the setting up my tent, and making the cave,\nthat a storm of rain falling from a thick dark cloud, a sudden flash of\nlightning happened, and after that a great clap of thunder, as is\nnaturally the effect of it. I was not so much surprised with the\nlightning, as I was with a thought which darted into my mind as swift as\nthe lightning itself; O my powder! my very heart sunk within me, when I\nthought, that at one blast all my powder might be destroyed; on which,\nnot my defence only, but the providing me food, as I thought, entirely\ndepended; I was nothing near so anxious about my own danger; though, had\nthe powder took fire, I had never known who had hurt me.\nSuch impression did this make upon me, that, after the storm was over, I\nlaid aside all my works, my building, and fortifying, and applied myself\nto make bags and boxes to separate the powder, and to keep it a little\nand a little in a parcel, in hope, that, whatever might come, it might\nnot all take fire at once, and to keep it so apart, that it should not\nbe possible to make one part fire another. I finished this work in about\na fortnight; and I think my powder, which in all was about two hundred\nand forty pounds weight, was divided in not less than a hundred parcels.\nAs to the barrel that had been wet, I did not apprehend any danger from\nthat, so I placed it in my new cave, which in my fancy I called my\nkitchen; and the rest I hid up and down in holes among the rocks, so\nthat no wet might come to it, marking very carefully where I laid it.\nIn the interval of time while this was doing, I went out once at least\nevery day with my gun, as well to divert myself, as to see if I could\nkill any thing fit for food, and as near as I could to acquaint myself\nwith what the island produced. The first time I went out I presently\ndiscovered that there were goats in the island, which was a great\nsatisfaction to me; but then it was attended with this misfortune to me,\nviz. that they were so shy, so subtle, and so swift of foot, that it\nwas the most difficult thing in the world to come at them. But I was not\ndiscouraged at this, not doubting but I might now and then shoot one, as\nit soon happened; for after I had found their haunts a little, I laid\nwait in this manner for them: I observed, if they saw me in the vallies,\nthough they were upon the rocks, they would run away as in a terrible\nfright; but if they were feeding in the vallies, and I was upon the\nrocks, they took no notice of me; from whence I concluded, that by the\nposition of their optics, their sight was so directed downward, that\nthey did not readily see objects that were above them; so afterward I\ntook this method; I always climbed the rocks first, to get above them,\nand then had frequently a fair mark. The first shot I made among these\ncreatures killed a she-goat, which had a little kid by her which she\ngave suck to, which grieved me heartily; but when the old one fell, the\nkid stood stock still by her till I came and took her up; and not only\nso; but when I carried the old one with me upon my shoulders, the kid\nfollowed me quite to my enclosure; upon which I laid down the dam, and\ntook the kid in my arms, and carried it over my pale, in hopes to have\nbred it up tame; but it would not eat; so I was forced to kill it, and\neat it myself. These two supplied me with flesh a great while, for I ate\nsparingly, and saved my provisions (my bread especially) as much as\npossibly I could.\nHaving now fixed my habitation, I found it absolutely necessary to\nprovide a place to make a fire in, and fuel to burn; and what I did for\nthat, as also how I enlarged my cave, and what conveniencies I made, I\nshall give a full account of in its place; but I must first give some\nlittle account of myself, and of my thoughts about living, which it may\nwell be supposed were not a few.\nI had a dismal prospect of my condition; for as I was not cast away upon\nthat island without being driven, as is said, by a violent storm quite\nout of the course of our intended voyage, and a great way, viz. some\nhundreds of leagues out of the ordinary course of the trade of mankind,\nI had great reason to consider it as a determination of Heaven, that in\nthis desolate place, and in this desolate manner, I should end my life.\nThe tears would run plentifully down my face when I made these\nreflections; and sometimes I would expostulate with myself, why\nProvidence should thus completely ruin his creatures, and render them so\nabsolutely miserable, so without help abandoned, so entirely depressed,\nthat it could hardly be rational to be thankful for such a life.\nBut something always returned swift upon me to check these thoughts, and\nto reprove me; and particularly one day, walking with my gun in my hand\nby the sea-side, I was very pensive upon the subject of my present\ncondition, when reason, as it were, expostulating with the t\u2019other way,\nthus: \u201cWell, you are in a desolate condition, \u2019tis true, but pray\nremember, where are the rest of you? Did not you come eleven of you into\nthe boat? Where are the ten? Why were they not saved and you lost? Why\nwere you singled out? Is it better to be here or there?\u201d And then I\npointed to the sea. All evils are to be considered with the good that is\nin them, and with what worse attended them.\nThen it occurred to me again, how well I was furnished for my\nsubsistence, and what would have been my ease if it had not happened,\nwhich was an hundred thousand to one, that the ship floated from the\nplace where she first struck, and was driven so near the shore that I\nhad time to get all these things out of her. What would have been my\ncase, if I had been to have lived in the condition in which I at first\ncame on shore, without necessaries of life, or necessaries to supply and\nprocure them? \u201cparticularly,\u201d said I, loud (though to myself), \u201cwhat\nshould I have done without a gun, without ammunition, without any tools\nto make any thing, or to work with; without clothes, bedding, a tent, or\nany manner of covering?\u201d and that now I had all these to a sufficient\nquantity, and was in a fair way to provide myself in such a manner, as\nto live without my gun when my ammunition was spent; so that I had a\ntolerable view of subsisting, without any want, as long as I lived; for\nI considered from the beginning how I should provide for the accidents\nthat might happen, and for the time that was to come, even not only\nafter my ammunition should be spent, but even after my health or\nstrength should decay.\nI confess I had not entertained any notion of my ammunition being\ndestroyed at one blast, I mean my powder being blown up by lightning;\nand this made the thoughts of it so surprising to me when it lightned\nand thundered, as I observed just now.\nAnd now, being about to enter into a melancholy relation of a scene of\nsilent life, such perhaps as was never heard of in the world before, I\nshall take it from its beginning, and continue it in its order. It was,\nby my account, the 30th of September, when, in the manner as above said,\nI first set foot upon this horrid island, when the sun being, to us, in\nits autumnal equinox, was almost just over my head, for I reckoned\nmyself, by observation, to be in the latitude of 9 degrees 22 minutes\nnorth of the line.\nAfter I had been there about ten or twelve days, it came into my\nthoughts, that I should lose my reckoning of time for want of books, and\npen and ink, and should even forget the sabbath days from the working\ndays; but to prevent this, I cut it with my knife upon a large post, in\ncapital letters, and making it into a great cross, I set it up on the\nshore where I first landed, viz. \u201cI came on shore here on the 30th of\nSeptember 1659.\u201d Upon the sides of this square post, I cut every day a\nnotch with my knife, and every seventh notch was as long again as the\nrest, and every first day of the month as long again as that long one;\nand thus I kept my calendar, or weekly, monthly, and yearly reckoning\nof time.\nIn the next place we are to observe, that among the many things which I\nbrought out of the ship in the several voyages, which, as above\nmentioned, I made to it, I got several things of less value, but not all\nless useful to me, which I omitted setting down before; as in\nparticular, pens, ink, and paper, several parcels in the captain\u2019s,\nmate\u2019s, gunner\u2019s, and carpenter\u2019s keeping, three or four compasses, some\nmathematical instruments, dials, perspectives, charts, and books of\nnavigation; all which I huddled together, whether I might want them or\nno. Also I found three very good Bibles, which came to me in my cargo\nfrom England, and which I had packed up among my things; some Portuguese\nbooks also, and among them two or three popish prayer-books, and several\nother books; all which I carefully secured. And I must not forget, that\nwe had in the ship a dog and two cats, of whose eminent history I may\nhave occasion to say something in it\u2019s place; for I carried both the\ncats with me; and as for the dog, he jumped out of the ship of himself,\nand swam on shore to me the day after I went on shore with my first\ncargo, and was a trusty servant to me many years; I wanted nothing that\nhe could fetch me, nor any company that he could make up to me; I only\nwanted to have him talk to me, but that he could not do. As I observed\nbefore, I found pen, ink, and paper, and I husbanded them to the utmost;\nand I shall shew, that while my ink lasted, I kept things very exact;\nbut after that was gone I could not, for I could not make any ink by any\nmeans that I could devise.\nAnd this put me in mind that I wanted many things, notwithstanding all\nthat I had amassed together; and of these, this of ink was one, as also\nspade, pickaxe, and shovel, to dig or remove the earth; needles, pins,\nand thread. As for linen, I soon learnt to want that without much\ndifficulty.\nThis want of tools made every work I did go on heavily, and it was near\na whole year before I had entirely finished my little pale or surrounded\nhabitation: the piles or stakes, which were as heavy as I could well\nlift, were a long time in cutting and preparing in the woods, and more\nby far in bringing home; so that I spent sometimes two days in cutting\nand bringing home one of those posts, and a third day in driving it into\nthe ground; for which purpose I got a heavy piece of wood at first, but\nat last bethought myself of one of the iron crows, which however, though\nI found it, yet it made driving those posts or piles very laborious and\ntedious work.\nBut what need I have been concerned at the tediousness of any thing I\nhad to do, seeing I had time enough to do it in? Nor had I any other\nemployment if that had been over, at least that I could foresee, except\nthe ranging the island to seek for food, which I did more or less\nevery day.\nI now began to consider seriously my condition, and the circumstance I\nwas reduced to, and I drew up the state of my affairs in writing, not so\nmuch to leave them to any that were to come after me, for I was like to\nhave but few heirs, as to deliver my thoughts from daily poring upon\nthem, and afflicting my mind; and as my reason began now to master my\ndespondency, I began to comfort myself as well as I could, and to set\nthe good against the evil, that I might have something to distinguish my\ncase from worse; and I stated it very impartially, like debtor and\ncreditor, the comforts I enjoyed against the miseries I suffered, thus:\n     I am cast upon a horrible    But I am alive, and\n     desolate island, void        not drowned, as all my\n     of all hope of recovery.     ship\u2019s company was.\n     I am singled out and         But I am singled out\n     separated, as it were,       too from all the ship\u2019s\n     from all the world to be     crew to be spared from\n     miserable.                   death; and He that\n     I am divided from            But I am not starved\n     mankind, a solitaire, one    and perishing on a barren\n     banished from human society. place, affording no sustenance.\n     I have not clothes to        But I am in a hot climate,\n     I am without any defence     But I am cast on an\n     or means to resist           island, where I see no\n     any violence of man or       wild beasts to hurt me,\n     I have no soul to speak      But God wonderfully\n     to, or relieve me.           sent the ship in near\nUpon the whole, here was an undoubted testimony, that there was scarce\nany condition in the world so miserable, but there was something\n_negative_ or something _positive_ to be thankful for in it; and let\nthis stand as a direction from the experience of the most miserable of\nall conditions in this world, that we may always find in it something to\ncomfort ourselves from, and to set, in the description of good and evil,\non the credit side of the account.\nHaving now brought my mind a little to relish my condition, and given\nover looking out to sea, to see if I could spy a ship; I say, giving\nover these things, I began to apply myself to accommodate my way of\nliving, and to make things as easy to me as I could.\nI have already described my habitation, which was a tent under the side\nof a rock, surrounded with a strong pale of posts and cables; but I\nmight now rather call it a wall, for I raised a kind of wall up against\nit of turfs, about two foot thick on the outside; and after some time, I\nthink it was a year and half, I raised rafters from it, leaning to the\nrock, and thatched or covered it with boughs of trees, and such things\nas I could get to keep out the rain, which I found at some times of the\nyear very violent.\nI have already observed how I brought all my goods into this pale, and\ninto the cave which I had made behind me: but I must observe too that at\nfirst this was a confused heap of goods, which as they lay in no order,\nso they took up all my place: I had no room to turn myself; so I set\nmyself to enlarge my cave, and work farther into the earth; for it was a\nloose sandy rock, which yielded easily to the labour I bestowed on it:\nand so when I found I was pretty safe as to beasts of prey, I worked\nsideways to the right hand into the rock; and then, turning to the right\nagain, worked quite out, and made me a door to come out, on the outside\nof my pale or fortification.\nThis gave me not only egress and regress, as it were a back-way to my\ntent and to my storehouse, but gave me room to stow my goods.\nAnd now I began to apply myself to make such necessary things as I found\nI most wanted, particularly a chair and a table; for without these I was\nnot able to enjoy the few comforts I had in the world; I could not write\nor eat, or do several things with so much pleasure without a table.\nSo I went to work; and here I must needs observe, that as reason is the\nsubstance and original of the mathematics, so by stating and squaring\nevery thing by reason, and by making the most rational judgment of\nthings, every man may be in time master of every mechanic art. I had\nnever handled a tool in my life, and yet in time, by labour,\napplication, and contrivance, I found at last that I wanted nothing but\nI could have made it, especially if I had had tools; however, I made\nabundance of things, even without tools, and some with no more tools\nthan an adze and a hatchet, which perhaps were never made that way\nbefore, and that with infinite labour: for example, if I wanted a board,\nI had no other way but to cut down a tree, set it on an edge before me,\nand hew it flat on either side with my axe, till I had brought it to be\nas thin as a plank, and then dub it smooth with my adze. It is true, by\nthis method I could make but one board out of a whole tree; but this I\nhad no remedy for but patience, any more than I had for the prodigious\ndeal of time and labour which it took me up to make a plank or board:\nbut my time or labour was little worth, and so it was as well employed\none way as another.\nHowever, I made me a table and a chair, as I observed above, in the\nfirst place; and this I did out of the short pieces of boards that I\nbrought on my raft from the ship: but when I had wrought out some\nboards, as above, I made large shelves of the breadth of a foot and a\nhalf one over another, all along one side of my cave, to lay all my\ntools, nails, and iron-work, and in a word, to separate every thing at\nlarge in their places, that I might come easily at them. I knocked\npieces into the wall of the rock to hang my guns and all things that\nwould hang up.\nSo that, had my cave been to be seen, it looked like a general magazine\nof all necessary things; and I had every thing so ready at my hand, that\nit was a great pleasure to me to see all my goods in such order, and\nespecially to find my stock of all necessaries so great.\nAnd now it was that I began to keep a journal of every day\u2019s employment;\nfor indeed at first I was in too much a hurry; and not only hurry as to\nlabour, but in too much discomposure of mind, and my journal would have\nbeen full of many dull things. For example, I must have said thus: Sept.\nthe 30th, after I got to shore, and had escaped drowning, instead of\nbeing thankful to God for my deliverance, having first vomited with the\ngreat quantity of salt water which was gotten into my stomach, and\nrecovering myself a little, I ran about the shore, wringing my hands,\nand beating my head and face, exclaiming at my misery, and crying out, I\nwas undone, undone; till tired and faint I was forced to lie down on the\nground to repose, but durst not sleep for fear of being devoured.\nSome days after this, and after I had been on board the ship, and got\nall that I could out of her, yet I could not forbear getting up to the\ntop of a little mountain, and looking out to sea in hopes of seeing a\nship; then fancy at a vast distance I spied a sail; please myself with\nthe hopes of it; and then after looking steadily till I was almost\nblind, lose it quite, and sit down and weep like a child, and thus\nincrease my misery by my folly.\nBut having gotten over these things in some measure, and having settled\nmy household-stuff and habitation, made me a table and a chair, and all\nas handsome about me as I could, I began to keep my journal, of which I\nshall here give you the copy (though in it will be told all those\nparticulars over again) as long as it lasted; for having no more ink, I\nwas forced to leave it off.\nTHE JOURNAL.\n_September 30, 1659_.\nI poor miserable Robinson Crusoe, being shipwrecked, during a dreadful\nstorm in the offing, came on shore on this dismal unfortunate island,\nwhich I called the Island of Despair; all the rest of the ship\u2019s company\nbeing drowned, and myself almost dead.\nAll the rest of that day I spent in afflicting myself at the dismal\ncircumstances I was brought to, viz. I had neither food, house,\nclothes, weapon, or place to fly to, and in despair of any relief, saw\nnothing but death before me, either that I should be devoured by wild\nbeasts, murdered by savages, or starved to death for want of food. At\nthe approach of night I slept in a tree, for fear of wild creatures, but\nslept soundly, though it rained all night.\nOctober 1. In the morning I saw, to my great surprise, the ship had\nfloated with the high tide, and was driven on shore again much nearer\nthe island; which as it was some comfort on one hand, for seeing her sit\nupright, and not broken to pieces, I hoped, if the wind abated, I might\nget on board, and get some food and necessaries out of her for my\nrelief; so on the other hand, it renewed my grief at the loss of my\ncomrades, who I imagined, if we had all staid on board, might have saved\nthe ship, or at least that they would not have been all drowned, as they\nwere; and that, had the men been saved, we might perhaps have built us a\nboat out of the ruins of the ship, to have carried us to some other part\nof the world. I spent great part of this day in perplexing myself on\nthese things; but at length, seeing the ship almost dry, I went upon the\nsand as near as I could, and then swam on board. This day also it\ncontinued raining, though with no wind at all.\nFrom the 1st of October to the 24th. All these days entirely spent in\nmany several voyages to get all I could out of the ship, which I brought\non shore, every tide of flood, upon rafts. Much rain also in these days,\nthough with some intervals of fair weather: but, it seems, this was the\nrainy season.\nOct. 20. I overset my raft, and all the goods I had got up upon it; but\nbeing in shoal water, and the things being chiefly heavy, I recovered\nmany of them when the tide was out.\nOct. 25. It rained all night and all day, with some gusts of wind;\nduring which time the ship broke in pieces, the wind blowing a little\nharder than before, and was no more to be seen, except the wreck of her,\nand that only at low water. I spent this day in covering and securing\nthe goods which I had saved, that rain might not spoil them.\nOct. 26. I walked about the shore almost all day, to find out a place to\nfix my habitation, greatly concerned to secure myself from any attack in\nthe night, either from wild beasts or men. Towards night I fixed upon a\nproper place under a rock, and marked out a semicircle for my\nencampment, which I resolved to strengthen with a work, wall, or\nfortification made of double piles, lined within with cable, and without\nwith turf.\nFrom the 26th to the 30th I worked very hard in carrying all my goods to\nmy new habitation, though some part of the time it rained\nexceeding hard.\nThe 31st in the morning I went out into the island with my gun, to see\nfor some food, and discover the country; when I killed a she goat, and\nher kid followed me home, which I afterwards killed also, because it\nwould not feed.\nNovember 1. I set up my tent under a rock, and lay there for the first\nnight, making it as large as I could with stakes driven in to swing my\nhammock upon.\nNov. 2. I set up all my chests and boards, and the pieces of timber\nwhich made my rafts, and with them formed a fence round me, a little\nwithin the place I had marked out for my fortification.\nNov. 3. I went out with my gun, and killed two fowls like ducks, which\nwere very good food. In the afternoon went to work to make me a table.\nNov. 4. This morning I began to order my times of work, of going out\nwith my gun, time of sleep, and time of diversion; viz. every morning I\nwalked out with my gun for two or three hours, if it did not rain, then\nemployed myself to work till about eleven o\u2019clock, then ate what I had\nto live on, and from twelve to two I lay down to sleep, the weather\nbeing excessive hot, and then in the evening to work again: the working\npart of this day and of the next were wholly employed in making my\ntable, for I was yet but a very sorry workman, though time and necessity\nmake me a complete natural mechanic soon after, as I believe it would do\nany one else.\nNov. 5. This day went abroad with my gun and my dog, and killed a wild\ncat, her skin pretty soft, but her flesh good for nothing: every\ncreature I killed I took off the skins and preserved them. Coming back\nby the sea-shore I saw many sorts of sea-fowls, which I did not\nunderstand; but was surprised and almost frighted with two or three\nseals, which, while I was gazing at, not well knowing what they were,\ngot into the sea, and escaped me for that time.\nNov. 6. After my morning walk I went to work with my table again, and\nfinished it, though not to my liking, nor was it long before I learnt\nto mend it.\nNov. 7. Now it began to be settled fair weather. The 7th, 8th, 9th,\n10th, and part of the 12th (for the 11th was Sunday), I took wholly up\nto make me a chair, and with much ado brought it to a tolerable shape,\nbut never to please me; and even in the making I pulled it in pieces\nseveral times. _Note_, I soon neglected my keeping Sundays, for omitting\nmy mark for them on my post, I forgot which was which.\nNov. 13. This day it rained, which refreshed me exceedingly, and cooled\nthe earth, but it was accompanied with terrible thunder and lightning,\nwhich frighted me dreadfully for fear of my powder: as soon as it was\nover I resolved to separate my stock of powder into as many little\nparcels as possible, that it might not be in danger.\nNov. 14, 15, 16. These three days I spent in making little square chests\nor boxes, which might hold a pound, or two pound, at most, of powder;\nand so putting the powder in, I stowed it in places as secure and remote\nfrom one another as possible. On one of these three days I killed a\nlarge bird that was good to eat, but I knew not what to call it.\nNov. 17. This day I began to dig behind my tent into the rock, to make\nroom for my farther conveniency. _Note_, Three things I wanted\nexceedingly for this work, viz. a pickaxe, a shovel, and a wheel-barrow\nor basket; so I desisted from my work, and began to consider how to\nsupply that want, and make me some tools: as for a pickaxe, I made use\nof the iron crows, which were proper enough, though heavy; but the next\nthing was a shovel or spade; this was so absolutely necessary, that\nindeed I could do nothing effectually without it; but what kind of one\nto make I knew not.\nNov. 18. The next day in searching the woods I found a tree of that\nwood, or like it, which in the Brasils they call the iron tree, for its\nexceeding hardness: of this, with great labour and almost spoiling my\naxe, I cut a piece, and brought it home too with difficulty enough, for\nit was exceeding heavy.\nThe excessive hardness of the wood, and having no other way, made me a\nlong while upon this machine; for I worked it effectually by little and\nlittle into the form of a shovel or spade, the handle exactly shaped\nlike ours in England, only that the broad part having no iron shod upon\nit at bottom, it would not last me so long; however, it served well\nenough for the uses which I had occasion to put it to; but never was a\nshovel, I believe, made after that fashion, or so long a making.\nI was still deficient, for I wanted a basket or a wheel-barrow; a basket\nI could not make by any means, having no such things as twigs that would\nbend to make wicker-ware, at least none yet found out; and as to a\nwheel-barrow, I fancied I could make; all but the wheel, but that I had\nno notion of, neither did I know how to go about it; besides, I had no\npossible way to make the iron gudgeons for the spindle or axis of the\nwheel to run in, so I gave it over; and so for carrying away the earth\nwhich I dug out of the cave, I made me a thing like a hod which the\nlabourers carry mortar in, when they serve the bricklayers.\nThis was not so difficult to me as the making the shovel; and yet this,\nand the shovel, and the attempt which I made in vain to make a\nwheel-barrow, took me up no less than four days, I mean always excepting\nmy morning walk with my gun, which I seldom failed; and very seldom\nfailed also bringing home something to eat.\nNov. 23. My other work having now stood still, because of my making\nthese tools, when they were finished I went on, and working every day,\nas my strength and time allowed, I spent eighteen days entirely in\nwidening and deepening my cave, that it might hold my goods\ncommodiously.\n_Note_, During all this time, I worked to make this room or cave\nspacious enough to accommodate me as a warehouse or magazine, a kitchen,\na dining-room, and a cellar: as for my lodging, I kept to the tent,\nexcept that sometimes in the wet season of the year, it rained so hard\nthat I could not keep myself dry, which caused me afterwards to cover\nall my place within my pale with long poles in the form of rafters,\nleaning against the rock, and load them with flags and large leaves of\ntrees like a thatch.\nDec. 10. I began now to think my cave or vault finished, when on a\nsudden (it seems I had made it too large) a great quantity of earth fell\ndown from the top and one side, so much that in short it frighted me,\nand not without reason too; for if I had been under it I had never\nwanted a gravedigger. Upon this disaster I had a great deal of work to\ndo over again; for I had the loose earth to carry out, and, which was of\nmore importance, I had the ceiling to prop up, so that I might be sure\nno more would come down.\nDec. 11. This day I went to work with it accordingly, and got two shores\nor posts pitched upright to the top, with two pieces of boards across\nover each post; this I finished the next day; and setting more posts up\nwith boards, in about a week more I had the roof secured; and the posts,\nstanding in rows, served me for partitions to part off my house.\nDec. 17. From this day to the twentieth I placed shelves, and knocked\nup nails on the posts to hang every thing up that could be hung up: and\nnow I began to be in some order within doors.\nDec. 20. Now I carried every thing into the cave, and began to furnish\nmy house, and set up some pieces of boards like a dresser, to order my\nvictuals upon; but boards began to be very scarce with me: also I made\nme another table.\nDec. 24. Much rain all night and all day; no stirring out.\nDec. 25. Rain all day.\nDec. 26. No rain, and the earth much cooler than before and pleasanter.\nDec. 27. Killed a young goat, and lamed another, so that I caught it,\nand led it home in a string; when I had it home, I bound and splintered\nup its leg which was broke. N.B. I took such care of it that it lived,\nand the leg grew well and as strong as ever; but by nursing it so long\nit grew tame, and fed upon the little green at my door, and would not go\naway. This was the first time that I entertained a thought of breeding\nup some tame creatures, that I might have food when my powder and shot\nwas all spent.\nDec. 28, 29, 30. Great heats and no breeze; so that there was no\nstirring abroad, except in the evening for food. This time I spent in\nputting all my things in order within doors.\nJanuary 1. Very hot still, but I went abroad early and late with my gun,\nand lay still in the middle of the day. This evening, going farther into\nthe vallies which lay towards the centre of the island, I found there\nwas plenty of goats, though exceeding shy and hard to come at; however,\nI resolved to try if I could not bring my dog to hunt them down.\nJan. 2. Accordingly, the next day I went out with my dog, and set him\nupon the goats; but I was mistaken, for they all faced about upon the\ndog; and he knew his danger too well, for he would not come near them.\nJan. 3. I began my fence or wall; which, being still jealous of my\nbeing attacked by somebody, I resolved to make very thick and strong.\n     N.B. This wall being described before, I purposely omit what\n     was said, in the Journal; it is sufficient to observe, that I\n     was no less time than from the 3d of January to the 14th of\n     April, working, finishing, and perfecting this wall, though\n     it was no more than about twenty-four yards in length, being\n     a half-circle from one place in the rock to another place\n     about eight yards from it, the door of the cave being in the\n     centre behind it.\nAll this time I worked very hard, the rains hindering me many days, nay,\nsometimes weeks together; But I thought I should never be perfectly\nsecure until this wall was finished; and it is scarce credible what\ninexpressible labour every thing was done with, especially the bringing\npiles out of the woods, and driving them into the ground, for I made\nthem much bigger than I need to have done.\nWhen this wall was finished, and the outside double fenced with a turf\nwall raised up close to it, I persuaded myself that if any people were\nto come on shore there, they would not perceive any thing like a\nhabitation; and it was very well I did so, as may be observed hereafter\nupon a very remarkable occasion.\nDuring this time I made my rounds in the woods for game every day, when\nthe rain admitted me, and made frequent discoveries in these walks of\nsomething or other to my advantage; particularly I found a kind of wild\npigeons, who built not as wood pigeons in a tree, but rather as house\npigeons, in the holes of the rocks; and taking some young ones, I\nendeavoured to breed them up tame, and did so; but when they grew older\nthey flew away, which perhaps was at first for want of feeding them, for\nI had nothing to give them; however, I frequently found their nests, and\ngot their young ones, which were very good meat.\nAnd now, in the managing my household affairs, I found myself wanting in\nmany things, which I thought at first it was impossible for me to make,\nas indeed as to some of them it was; for instance, I could never make a\ncask to be hooped; I had a small runlet or two, as I observed before,\nbut I could never arrive to the capacity of making one by them, though I\nspent many weeks about it; I could neither put in the heads, or joint\nthe staves so true to one another as to make them hold water: so I gave\nthat also over.\nIn the next place, I was at a great loss for candle; so that as soon as\never it was dark, which was generally by seven o\u2019clock, I was obliged to\ngo to bed: I remembered the lump of bees-wax with which I made candles\nin my African adventure, but I had none of that now; the only remedy I\nhad, was, that when I had killed a goat I saved the tallow, and with a\nlittle dish made of clay, which I baked in the sun, to which I added a\nwick of some oakum, I made me a lamp; and this gave me light, though not\na clear steady light like a candle. In the middle of all my labours it\nhappened, that, rummaging my things, I found a little bag, which, as I\nhinted before, had been filled with corn for the feeding of poultry; not\nfor this voyage, but before, as I suppose, when the ship came from\nLisbon; what little remainder of corn had been in the bag, was all\ndevoured with the rats, and I saw nothing in the bag but husks and dust;\nand being willing to have the bag for some other use, I think it was to\nput powder in, when I divided it for fear of the lightning, or some such\nuse, I shook the husks of corn out of it on one side of my fortification\nunder the rock.\nIt was a little before the great rains, just now mentioned, that I threw\nthis stuff away, taking no notice of any thing, and not so much as\nremembering that I had thrown any thing there; when about a month after,\nor thereabout, I saw some few stalks of something green shooting out of\nthe ground, which I fancied might be some plant I had not seen; but I\nwas surprised and perfectly astonished, when after a little longer time\nI saw about ten or twelve ears come out, which were perfect green barley\nof the same kind as our European, nay, as our English barley.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment and confusion of my\nthoughts on this occasion; I had hitherto acted upon no religious\nfoundation at all; indeed I had very few notions of religion in my head,\nor had entertained any sense of any thing that had befallen me,\notherwise than as a chance, or, as we lightly say, what pleases God;\nwithout so much as inquiring into the end of Providence in these things,\nor his order in governing events in the world: but after I saw barley\ngrow there, in a climate which I knew was not proper for corn, and\nespecially that I knew not how it came there, it startled me strangely,\nand I began to suggest, that God had miraculously caused this grain to\ngrow without any help of seed sown, and that it was so directed purely\nfor my sustenance on that wild miserable place.\nThis touched my heart a little, and brought tears out of my eyes, and I\nbegan to bless myself, that such a prodigy of nature should happen upon\nmy account; and this was the more strange to me, because I saw near it\nstill, all along by the side of the rock, some other straggling stalks,\nwhich proved to be stalks of rice, and which I knew, because I had seen\nit grow in Africa, when I was ashore there.\nI not only thought these the pure productions of Providence for my\nsupport, but not doubting but that there was more in the place, I went\nall over that part of the island, where I had been before, peeping in\nevery corner and under every rock to see for more of it, but I could not\nfind any; at last it occurred to my thought, that I had shook a bag of\nchicken\u2019s meat out in that place, and then the wonder began to cease;\nand I must confess, my religious thankfulness to God\u2019s providence began\nto abate too upon discovering that all this was nothing but what was\ncommon; though I ought to have been as thankful for so strange and\nunforeseen a providence as if it had been miraculous; for it was really\nthe work of Providence as to me, that should order or appoint ten or\ntwelve grains of corn to remain unspoiled, when the rats had destroyed\nall the rest, as if it had been dropped from heaven: as also, that I\nshould throw it out in that particular place, where, it being in the\nshade of a high rock, it sprang up immediately; whereas if I had thrown\nit any were else at that time, it had been burnt up and destroyed.\nI carefully saved the ears of corn, you may be sure, in their season,\nwhich was about the end of June, and laying up every corn, I resolved to\nsow them all again, hoping in time to have some quantity sufficient to\nsupply me with bread; but it was not till the fourth year that I could\nallow myself the least grain of this corn to eat, and even then but\nsparingly, as I shall say afterwards in its order; for I lost all that I\nsowed the first season, by not observing the proper time; for I sowed it\njust before the dry season, so that it never came up at all, at least\nnot as it would have done: of which in its place.\nBesides this barley there were, as above, twenty or thirty stalks of\nrice, which I preserved with the same care, and whose use was of the\nsame kind or to the same purpose, viz. to make me bread, or rather food;\nfor I found ways to cook it up without baking, though I did that also\nafter some time. But to return to my journal.\nI worked excessive hard these three or four months to get my wall done;\nand the 14th of April I closed it up, contriving to go into it, not by a\ndoor, but over the wall by a ladder, that there might be no sign in the\noutside of my habitation.\nApril 16. I finished the ladder; so I went up with the ladder to the\ntop, and then pulled it up after me, and let it down on the inside: this\nwas a complete enclosure to me; for within I had room enough, and\nnothing could come at me from without, unless it could first mount\nmy wall.\nThe very next day after this wall was finished, I had almost had all my\nlabour overthrown at once, and myself killed; the case was thus: As I\nwas busy in the inside of it behind my tent, just in the entrance into\nmy cave, I was terribly frighted with a most dreadful surprising thing\nindeed; for on a sudden I found the earth come crumbling down from the\nroof of my cave, and from the edge of the hill, over my head, and two of\nthe posts I had set up in the cave cracked in a frightful manner: I was\nheartily scared, but thought nothing of what was really the cause, only\nthinking that the top of my cave was falling in, as some of it had done\nbefore; and for fear I should be buried in it, I ran forward to my\nladder, and not thinking myself safe there neither, I got over my wall\nfor fear of the pieces of the hill which I expected might roll down upon\nme. I was no sooner stept down upon the firm ground, but I plainly saw\nit was a terrible earthquake, for the ground I stood on shook three\ntimes at about eight minutes distance, with three such shocks, as would\nhave overturned the strongest building that could be supposed to have\nstood on the earth; and a great piece of the top of a rock, which stood\nabout half a mile from me next the sea, fell down with such a terrible\nnoise as I never heard in all my life: I perceived also the very sea was\nput into violent motion by it; and I believe the shocks were stronger\nunder the water than on the island.\nI was so amazed with the thing itself, having never felt the like, or\ndiscoursed with any one that had, that I was like one dead or stupified;\nand the motion of the earth made my stomach sick, like one that was\ntossed at sea; but the noise of the falling of the rock awaked me, as it\nwere, and rousing me from the stupified condition I was in, filled me\nwith horror, and I thought of nothing then but the hill falling upon my\ntent and all my household goods, and burying all at once; and this sunk\nmy very soul within me a second time.\nAfter the third shock was over, and I felt no more for some time, I\nbegan to take courage, and yet I had not heart enough to get over my\nwall again, for fear of being buried alive, but sat still upon the\nground, greatly cast down and disconsolate, not knowing what to do. All\nthis while I had not the least serious religious thought, nothing but\nthe common \u201cLord have mercy upon me!\u201d and when it was over, that\nwent away too.\nWhile I sat thus, I found the air overcast, and grow cloudy, as if it\nwould rain; soon after that the wind rose by little and little, so that\nin less than half an hour it blew a most dreadful hurricane: the sea was\nall on a sudden covered over with foam and froth, the shore was covered\nwith the breach of the water, the trees were torn up by the roots, and a\nterrible storm it was; and this held about three hours, and then began\nto abate, and in two hours more it was stark calm, and began to rain\nvery hard.\nAll this while I sat upon the ground, very much terrified and dejected,\nwhen on a sudden it came into my thoughts, that these winds and rain\nbeing the consequence of the earthquake, the earthquake itself was spent\nand over, and I might venture into my cave again: with this thought my\nspirits began to revive, and the rain also helping to persuade me, I\nwent in and sat down in my tent; but the rain was so violent, that my\ntent was ready to be beaten down with it; and I was forced to go into my\ncave, though very much afraid and uneasy, for fear it should fall on\nmy head.\nThis violent rain forced me to a new work, viz. to cut a hole through my\nnew fortification like a sink, to let water go out, which would else\nhave drowned my cave. After I had been in my cave some time, and found\nstill no more shocks of the earthquake follow, I began to be more\ncomposed; and now, to support my spirits, which indeed wanted it very\nmuch, I went to my little store, and took a small sup of rum, which\nhowever I did then and always very sparingly, knowing I could have no\nmore when that was gone.\nIt continued raining all that night, and great part of the next day, so\nthat I could not stir abroad; but my mind being more composed, I began\nto think of what I had best do, concluding, that if the island was\nsubject to these earthquakes, there would be no living for me in a cave,\nbut I must consider of building me some little hut in an open place,\nwhich I might surround with a wall as I had done here, and so make\nmyself secure from wild beasts or men: but concluded, if I staid where I\nwas, I should certainly, one time or other, be buried alive.\nWith these thoughts I resolved to remove my tent from the place where it\nstood, which was just under the hanging precipice of the hill, and\nwhich, if it should be shaken again, would certainly fall upon my tent.\nAnd I spent the two next days, being the 19th and 20th of April, in\ncontriving where and how to remove my habitation.\nThe fear of being swallowed up alive, made me that I never slept in\nquiet, and yet the apprehension of lying abroad without any fence was\nalmost equal to it; but still, when I looked about and saw how every\nthing was put in order, how pleasantly concealed I was, and how safe\nfrom danger, it made me very loth to remove.\nIn the meantime it occurred to me that it would require a vast deal of\ntime for me to do this, and that I must be contented to run the venture\nwhere I was, till I had formed a camp for myself, and had secured it so\nas to remove to it. So with this resolution I composed myself for a\ntime, and resolved that I would go to work with all speed to build me a\nwall with piles and cables, &c. in a circle as before; and set my tent\nup in it when it was finished, but that I would venture to stay where I\nwas till it was finished and fit to remove to. This was the 21st.\nApril 22. The next morning I began to consider of means to put this\nresolve in execution, but I was at a great loss about my tools. I had\nthree large axes and abundance of hatchets (for we carried the hatchets\nfor traffic with the Indians); but with much chopping and cutting\nknotty hard wood, they were all full of notches and dull; and though I\nhad a grindstone, I could not turn it and grind my tools too: this cost\nme as much thought as a statesman would have bestowed upon a grand point\nof politics, or a judge upon the life and death of a man. At length I\ncontrived a wheel with a string, to turn it with my foot, that I might\nhave both my hands at liberty. _Note_, I had never seen any such thing\nin England, or at least not to take notice how it was done, though since\nI have observed it is very common there; besides that, my grindstone was\nvery large and heavy. This machine cost me a full week\u2019s work to bring\nit to perfection.\nApril 28, 29. These two whole days I took up in grinding my tools, my\nmachine for turning my grindstone performing very well.\nApril 30. Having perceived my bread had been low a great while, now I\ntook a survey of it, and reduced myself to one biscuit-cake a day, which\nmade my heart very heavy.\nMay 1. In the morning, looking towards the sea-side, the tide being low,\nI saw something lie on the shore bigger than ordinary; and it looked\nlike a cask; when I came to it, I found a small barrel, and two or three\npieces of the wreck of the ship, which were driven on shore by the late\nhurricane; and looking towards the wreck itself, I thought it seemed to\nlie higher out of the water than it used to do. I examined the barrel\nwhich was driven on shore, and soon found it was a barrel of gunpowder,\nbut it had taken water, and the powder was caked as hard as a stone;\nhowever, I rolled it farther on shore for the present, and went on upon\nthe sands as near as I could to the wreck of the ship, to look for more.\nWhen I came down to the ship, I found it strangely removed; the\nforecastle, which lay before buried in sand, was heaved up at least six\nfoot; and the stern, which was broke to pieces, and parted from the rest\nby the force of the sea, soon after I had left rummaging her, was\ntossed, as it were, up, and cast on one side, and the sand was thrown so\nhigh on that side next her stern, that whereas there was a great place\nof water before, so that I could not come within a quarter of a mile of\nthe wreck without swimming, I could now walk quite up to her when the\ntide was out. I was surprised with this at first, but soon concluded it\nmust be done by the earthquake: and as by this violence the ship was\nmore broken open than formerly, so many things came daily on shore,\nwhich the sea had loosened, and which the winds and water rolled by\ndegrees to the land.\nThis wholly diverted my thoughts from the design of removing my\nhabitation; and I busied myself mightily, that day especially, in\nsearching whether I could make any way into the ship; but I found\nnothing was to be expected of that kind, for that all the inside of the\nship was choked up with sand: however, as I had learnt not to despair of\nany thing, I resolved to pull every thing to pieces that I could of the\nship, concluding, that every thing I could get from her would be of some\nuse or other to me.\nMay 3. I began with my saw, and cut a piece of a beam through, which I\nthought held some of the upper part or quarter-deck together, and when I\nhad cut it through, I cleared away the sand as well as I could from the\nside which lay highest; but the tide coming in, I was obliged to give\nover for that time.\nWay 4. I went a-fishing, but caught not one fish that I durst eat of,\ntill I was weary of my sport; when just going to leave off, I caught a\nyoung dolphin. I had made me a long line of some rope yarn, but I had no\nhooks, yet I frequently caught fish enough, as much as I cared to eat;\nall which I dried in the sun, and ate them dry.\nMay 5. Worked on the wreck, cut another beam asunder, and brought three\ngreat fir planks off from the decks, which I tied together, and made\nswim on shore when the tide of flood came on.\nMay 6. Worked on the wreck, got several iron bolts out of her, and\nother pieces of iron-work; worked very hard, and came home very much\ntired, and had thoughts of giving it over.\nMay 7. Went to the wreck again, but with an intent not to work, but\nfound the weight of the wreck had broke itself down, the beams being\ncut, that several pieces of the ship seemed to lie loose, and the inside\nof the hold lay so open, that I could see into it, but almost full of\nwater and sand.\nMay 8. Went to the wreck, and carried an iron crow to wrench up the\ndeck, which lay now quite clear of the water or sand; I wrenched open\ntwo planks, and brought them on shore also with the tide: I left the\niron crow in the wreck for next day.\nMay 9. Went to the wreck, and with the crow made way into the body of\nthe wreck, and felt several casks, and loosened them with the crow, but\ncould not break them up: I felt also the roll of English lead, and could\nstir it, but it was too heavy to remove.\nMay 10, 11, 12, 13, 14. Went every day to the wreck, and got a great\nmany pieces of timber, and boards, or plank, and two or three hundred\nweight of iron.\nMay 15. I carried two hatchets, to try if I could not cut a piece off\nthe roll of lead, by placing the edge of one hatchet, and driving it\nwith the other; but as it lay about a foot and a half in the water, I\ncould not make any blow to drive the hatchet.\nMay 16. It had blown hard in the night, and the wreck appeared more\nbroken by the force of the water; but I staid so long in the woods to\nget pigeons for food, that the tide prevented me going to the wreck\nthat day.\nMay 17. I saw some pieces of the wreck blown on shore, at a great\ndistance, near two miles off me, but resolved to see what they were, and\nfound it was a piece of the head, but too heavy for me to bring away.\nMay 24. Every day to this day I worked on the wreck, and with hard\nlabour I loosened some things so much with the crow, that the first\nflowing tide several casks floated out, and two of the seamen\u2019s chests;\nbut the wind blowing from the shore, nothing came to land that day but\npieces of timber, and a hogshead, which had some Brasil pork in it, but\nthe salt water and the sand had spoiled it.\nI continued this work every day to the 15th of June, except the time\nnecessary to get food, which I always appointed, during this part of my\nemployment, to be when the tide was up, that I might be ready when it\nwas ebbed out; and by this time I had gotten timber, and plank, and\niron-work enough to have built a good boat, if I had known how; and also\nI got at several times, and in several pieces, near one hundred weight\nof the sheet-lead.\nJune 16. Going down to the sea-side, I found a large tortoise or turtle:\nthis was the first I had seen, which it seems was only my misfortune,\nnot any defect of the place, or scarcity; for had I happened to be on\nthe other side of the island, I might have had hundreds of them every\nday, as I found afterwards; but perhaps had paid dear enough for them.\nJune 17. I spent in cooking the turtle; I found in her threescore eggs;\nand her flesh was to me at that time the most savory and pleasant that\never I tasted in my life, having had no flesh, but of goats and fowls,\nsince I landed in this horrid place.\nJune 18. Rained all day, and I stayed within. I thought at this time the\nrain felt cold, and I was something chilly, which I knew was not usual\nin that latitude.\nJune 19. Very ill, and shivering, as if the weather had been cold.\nJune 20. No rest all night, violent pains in my head, and feverish.\nJune 21. Very ill, frighted almost to death with the apprehensions of my\nsad condition, to be sick, and no help. Prayed to God for the first time\nsince the storm off Hull, but scarce knew what I said, or why; my\nthoughts being all confused.\nJune 22. A little better, but under dreadful apprehensions of sickness.\nJune 23. Very bad again, cold and shivering, and then a violent headach.\nJune 24. Much better.\nJune 25. An ague very violent; the fit held me seven hours, cold fit and\nhot, with faint sweats after it.\nJune 26. Better; and having no victuals to eat, took my gun, but found\nmyself very weak; however, I killed a she-goat, and with much difficulty\ngot it home, and broiled some of it, and ate; I would fain have stewed\nit, and made some broth, but had no pot.\nJune 27. The ague again so violent, that I lay abed all day, and neither\nate or drank. I was ready to perish for thirst, but so weak I had not\nstrength to stand up, or to get myself any water to drink. Prayed to God\nagain, but was light-headed; and when I was not I was so ignorant, that\nI knew not what to say; only I lay and cried, \u201cLord look upon me! Lord\npity me! Lord have mercy upon me!\u201d I suppose I did nothing else for two\nor three hours, till the fit wearing off, I fell asleep, and did not\nwake till far in the night; when I waked, I found myself much refreshed,\nbut weak, and exceeding thirsty: however, as I had no water in my whole\nhabitation, I was forced to lie till morning, and went to sleep again.\nIn this second sleep I had this terrible dream.\nI thought that I was sitting on the ground on the outside of my wall,\nwhere I sat when the storm blew after the earthquake, and that I saw a\nman descend from a great black cloud, in a bright flame of fire, and\nlight upon the ground. He was all over as bright as a flame, so that I\ncould but just bear to look towards him; his countenance was most\ninexpressibly dreadful, impossible for words to describe; when he\nstepped upon the ground with his feet I thought the earth trembled, just\nas it had done before in the earthquake, and all the air looked to my\napprehension as if it had been filled with flashes of fire.\nHe was no sooner landed upon the earth, but he moved forward towards\nme, with a long spear or weapon in his hand to kill me; and when he came\nto a rising ground, at some distance, he spoke to me, or I heard a voice\nso terrible, that it is impossible to express the terror of it; all that\nI can say I understood was this, \u201cSeeing all these things have not\nbrought thee to repentance, now thou shall die:\u201d at which words I\nthought he lifted up the spear that was in his hand to kill me.\nNo one, that shall ever read this account, will expect that I should be\nable to describe the horrors of my soul at this terrible vision; I mean,\nthat even while it was a dream, I even dreamed of those horrors; nor is\nit any more possible to describe the impression that remained upon my\nmind, when I awaked, and found it was but a dream.\nI had, alas! no divine knowledge; what I had received by the good\ninstruction of my father was then worn out by an uninterrupted series,\nfor eight years, of seafaring wickedness, and a constant conversation\nwith nothing but such as were, like myself, wicked and profane to the\nlast degree. I do not remember that I had in all that time one thought\nthat so much as tended either to looking upwards toward God, or inwards\ntowards a reflection upon my own ways. But a certain stupidity of soul,\nwithout desire of good, or conscience of evil, had entirely overwhelmed\nme, and I was all that the most hardened, unthinking, wicked creature\namong our common sailors can be supposed to be, not having the least\nsense, either of the fear of God in danger, or of thankfulness to God in\ndeliverances.\nIn the relating what is already past of my story, this will be the more\neasily believed, when I shall add, that through all the variety of\nmiseries that had to this day befallen me, I never had so much as one\nthought of it being the hand of God, or that it was a just punishment\nfor my sin, my rebellious behaviour against my father, or my present\nsins, which were great; or so much as a punishment for the general\ncourse of my wicked life. When I was on the desperate expedition on the\ndesert shores of Africa, I never had so much as one thought of what\nwould become of me; or one wish to God to direct me whither I should go,\nor to keep me from the danger which apparently surrounded me, as well\nfrom voracious creatures as cruel savages: but I was merely thoughtless\nof a God, or a Providence, acted like a mere brute from the principles\nof nature, and by the dictates of common sense only, and indeed\nhardly that.\nWhen I was delivered, and taken up at sea by the Portugal captain, well\nused, and dealt justly and honourably with, as well as charitably, I had\nnot the least thankfulness on my thoughts. When again I was shipwrecked,\nruined, and in danger of drowning on this island, I was as far from\nremorse, or looking on it as a judgment; I only said to myself often,\nthat I was _an unfortunate dog_, and born to be always miserable.\nIt is true, when I got on shore first here, and found all my ship\u2019s crew\ndrowned, and myself spared, I was surprised with a kind of ecstasy, and\nsome transports of soul, which, had the grace of God assisted, might\nhave come up to true thankfulness; but it ended where it begun, in a\nmere common flight of joy, or, as I may say, _being glad I was alive_,\nwithout the least reflection upon the distinguishing goodness of the\nHand which had preserved me, and had singled me out to be preserved,\nwhen all the rest were destroyed; or an inquiry why Providence had been\nthus merciful to me; even just the same common sort of joy which seamen\ngenerally have, after they have got safe on shore from a shipwreck,\nwhich they drown all in the next bowl of punch, and forget almost as\nsoon as it is over; and all the rest of my life was like it.\nEven when I was afterwards, on due consideration, made sensible of my\ncondition, how I was cast on this dreadful place, out of the reach of\nhuman kind, out of all hope of relief, or prospect of redemption, as\nsoon as I saw but a prospect of living, and that I should not starve\nand perish for hunger, all the sense of my affliction wore off, and I\nbegan to be very easy, applied myself to the works proper for my\npreservation and supply, and was far enough from being afflicted at my\ncondition, as a judgment from Heaven, or as the hand of God against me:\nthese were thoughts which very seldom entered into my head.\nThe growing up of the corn, as is hinted in my Journal, had at first\nsome little influence upon me, and began to affect me with seriousness,\nas long as I thought it had something miraculous in it; but as soon as\never that part of thought was removed, all the impression which was\nraised from it wore off also, as I have noted already.\nEven the earthquake, though nothing could be more terrible in its\nnature, or more immediately directing to the invisible Power which alone\ndirects such things; yet no sooner was the first fright over, but the\nimpression it had made went off also. I had no more sense of God, or his\njudgments, much less of the present affliction of my circumstances being\nfrom his hand, than if I had been in the most prosperous condition\nof life.\nBut now, when I began to be sick, and a leisurely view of the miseries\nof death came to place itself before me; when my spirits began to sink\nunder the burden of a strong distemper, and nature was exhausted with\nthe violence of the fever; conscience, that had slept so long, began to\nawake, and I began to reproach myself with my past life, in which I had\nso evidently, by uncommon wickedness, provoked the justice of God to lay\nme under uncommon strokes, and to deal with me in so vindictive\na manner.\nThese reflections oppressed me from the second or third day of my\ndistemper, and in the violence, as well of the fever as of the dreadful\nreproaches of my conscience, extorted some words from me, like praying\nto God, though I cannot say they were either a prayer attended with\ndesires, or with hopes; it was rather the voice of mere fright and\ndistress; my thoughts were confused, the convictions great upon my mind,\nand the horror of dying in such a miserable condition, raised vapours\ninto my head with the mere apprehensions; and, in these hurries of my\nsoul, I knew not what my tongue might express: but it was rather\nexclamation, such as, \u201cLord! what a miserable creature am I! If I should\nbe sick, I shall certainly die for want of help, and what will become of\nme!\u201d Then the tears burst out of my eyes, and I could say no more for a\ngood while.\nIn this interval, the good advice of my father came to my mind; and\npresently his prediction, which I mentioned in the beginning of this\nstory, viz. that if I did take this foolish step, God would not bless\nme, and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected\nhis counsel, when there might be none to assist in my recovery. \u201cNow,\u201d\nsaid I aloud, \u201cmy dear father\u2019s words are come to pass: God\u2019s justice\nhas overtaken me, and I have none to help or hear me: I rejected the\nvoice of Providence, which had mercifully put me in a posture or station\nof life wherein I might have been happy and easy; but I would neither\nsee it myself, nor learn to know the blessing of it from my parents; I\nleft them to mourn over my folly, and now I am left to mourn under the\nconsequences of it: I refused their help and assistance, who would have\nlifted me into the world, and would have made every thing easy to me;\nand now I have difficulties to struggle with, too great for even nature\nitself to support, and no assistance, no help, no comfort, no advice.\u201d\nThen I cried out, \u201cLord be my help, for I am in great distress!\u201d\nThis was the first prayer, if I might call it so, that I had made for\nmany years. But I return to my journal.\nJune 28. Having been somewhat refreshed with the sleep I had had, and\nthe fit being entirely off, I got up: and though the fright and terror\nof my dream was very great, yet I considered, that the fit of the ague\nwould return again the next day, and now was my time to get something to\nrefresh and support myself when I should be ill; and the first thing I\ndid, I filled a large square case-bottle with water, and set it upon my\ntable, in reach of my bed; and to take off the chill or aguish\ndisposition of the water, I put about a quarter of a pint of rum into\nit, and mixed them together; then I got me a piece of the goat\u2019s flesh,\nand broiled it on the coals, but could eat very little. I walked about,\nbut was very weak, and withal very sad and heavy-hearted under a sense\nof my miserable condition, dreading the return of my distemper the next\nday. At night I made my supper of three of the turtle\u2019s eggs, which I\nroasted in the ashes, and ate, as we call it, in the shell; and this was\nthe first bit of meat I had ever asked God\u2019s blessing to, even, as I\ncould remember, in my whole life.\nAfter I had eaten I tried to walk; but found myself so weak, that I\ncould hardly carry the gun (for I never went out without that): so I\nwent but a little way, and sat down upon the ground, looking out upon\nthe sea, which was just before me, and very calm and smooth. As I sat\nhere, some such thoughts as these occurred to me:\nWhat is the earth and sea, of which I have seen so much? Whence is it\nproduced? And what am I, and all the other creatures, wild and tame,\nhuman and brutal? whence are we?\nSure we are all made by some secret Power, who formed the earth and sea,\nthe air and sky; and who is that?\nThen it followed, most naturally: it is God that has made it all: well,\nbut then it came on strangely; if God has made all these things, he\nguides and governs them all, and all things that concern them; for the\nBeing that could make all things, must certainly have power to guide and\ndirect them.\nIf so, nothing can happen in the great circuit of his works, either\nwithout his knowledge or appointment.\nAnd if nothing happens without his knowledge, he knows that I am here,\nand am in a dreadful condition; and if nothing happens without his\nappointment, he has appointed all this to befal me.\nNothing occurred to my thoughts to contradict any of these conclusions;\nand therefore it rested upon me with the greater force, that it must\nneeds be, that God had appointed all this to befal me; that I was\nbrought to this miserable circumstance by his direction, he having the\nsole power, not of me only, but of every thing that happened in the\nworld. Immediately it followed,\nWhy has God done this to me? What have I done to be thus used?\nMy conscience presently checked me in that inquiry, as if I had\nblasphemed; and methought it spoke to me, like a voice; \u201cWretch! dost\nthou ask what thou hast done? look back upon a dreadful misspent life,\nand ask thyself what thou hast not done? ask, why is it that thou wert\nnot long ago destroyed? why wert thou not drowned in Yarmouth Roads?\nkilled in the fight when the ship was taken by the Sallee man of war?\ndevoured by the wild beasts on the coast of Africa? or, drowned here,\nwhen all the crew perished but thyself? Dost thou ask, What have\nI done?\u201d\nI was struck with these reflections as one astonished, and had not a\nword to say, no, not to answer to myself: but rose up pensive and sad,\nwalked back to my retreat, and went up over my wall, as if I had been\ngoing to bed; but my thoughts were sadly disturbed, and I had no\ninclination to sleep; so I sat down in my chair, and lighted my lamp,\nfor it began to be dark. Now, as the apprehensions of the return of my\ndistemper terrified me very much, it occurred to my thought, that the\nBrasilians take no physic but their tobacco, for almost all distempers;\nand I had a piece of a roll of tobacco in one of the chests, which was\nquite cured, and some also that was green, and not quite cured.\nI went, directed by Heaven, no doubt; for in this chest I found a cure\nboth for soul and body. I opened the chest, and found what I looked\nfor, viz. the tobacco; and as the few books I had saved lay there too, I\ntook out one of the Bibles which I mentioned before, and which, to this\ntime, I had not found leisure, or so much as inclination, to look into;\nI say I took it out, and brought both that and the tobacco with me to\nthe table.\nWhat use to make of the tobacco I knew not, as to my distemper, or\nwhether it was good for it or no; but I tried several experiments with\nit, as if I was resolved it should hit one way or other: I first took a\npiece of a leaf, and chewed it in my mouth, which indeed at first almost\nstupified my brain, the tobacco being green and strong, and that I had\nnot been much used to it; then I took some, and steeped it an hour or\ntwo in some rum, and resolved to take a dose of it when I lay down; and\nlastly, I burnt some upon a pan of coals, and held my nose close over\nthe smoke of it, as long as I could bear it, as well for the heat as the\nvirtue of it, and I held almost to suffocation.\nIn the interval of this operation I took up the Bible, and began to\nread; but my head was too much disturbed with the tobacco to bear\nreading, at least at that time; only having opened the book casually,\nthe first words that occurred to me were these: \u201cCall on me in the day\nof trouble, and I will deliver, and thou shalt glorify me.\u201d\nThe words were very apt to my case, and made some impression upon my\nthoughts at the time of reading them, though not so much as they did\nafterwards; for as for being delivered, the word had no sound, as I may\nsay, to me; the thing was so remote, so impossible in my apprehension of\nthings, that I began to say as the children of Israel did, when they\nwere promised flesh to eat, \u201cCan God spread a table in the wilderness?\u201d\nSo I began to say, Can God himself deliver me from this place? And as it\nwas not for many years that any hope appeared, this prevailed very often\nupon my thoughts: but, however, the words made a very great impression\nupon me, and I mused upon them very often. It grew now late, and the\ntobacco had, as I said, dozed my head so much, that I inclined to sleep;\nso that I left my lamp burning in the cave, lest I should want any thing\nin the night, and went to bed; but before I lay down, I did what I never\nhad done in all my life: I kneeled down, and prayed to God to fulfil the\npromise to me, that if I called upon him in the day of trouble, he would\ndeliver me. After my broken and imperfect prayer was over, I drank the\nrum in which I had steeped the tobacco, which was so strong and rank of\nthe tobacco, that indeed I could scarce get it down. Immediately upon\nthis I went to bed, and I found presently it flew up into my head\nviolently; but I fell into a sound sleep, and waked no more, till by the\nsun it must necessarily be near three o\u2019clock in the afternoon the next\nday; nay, to this hour I am partly of the opinion, that I slept all the\nnext day and night, and till almost three the day after; for otherwise I\nknew not how I should lose a day out of my reckoning in the days of the\nweek, as it appeared some years after I had done; for if I had lost it\nby crossing and recrossing the line, I should have lost more than a day;\nbut in my account it was lost, and I never knew which way.\nBe that however one way or other; when I awaked, I found myself\nexceedingly refreshed, and my spirits lively and cheerful; when I got\nup, I was stronger than I was the day before, and my stomach better; for\nI was hungry; and, in short, I had no fit the next day, but continued\nmuch altered for the better: this was the 29th.\nThe 30th was my well day of course, and I went abroad with my gun, but\ndid not care to travel too far: I killed a sea-fowl or two, something\nlike a brand goose, and brought them home, but was not very forward to\neat them: so I ate some more of the turtle\u2019s eggs, which were very good.\nThis evening I renewed the medicine which I had supposed did me good the\nday before, viz. the tobacco steeped in rum; only I did not take so\nmuch as before, nor did I chew any of the leaf, or hold my head over the\nsmoke; however, I was not so well the next day, which was the 1st of\nJuly, as I hoped I should have been; for I had a little spice of the\ncold fit, but it was not much.\nJuly 2. I renewed the medicine all the three ways, and dozed myself with\nit at first, and doubled the quantity which I drank.\nJuly 3. I missed the fit for good and all, though I did not recover my\nfull strength for some weeks after. While I was thus gathering strength,\nmy thoughts ran exceedingly upon this scripture, \u201cI will deliver thee;\u201d\nand the impossibility of my deliverance lay much upon my mind, in bar of\nmy ever expecting it: but as I was discouraging myself with such\nthoughts, it occurred to my mind, that I pored so much upon my\ndeliverance from the main affliction, that I disregarded the deliverance\nI had received; and I was, as it were, made to ask myself such questions\nas these; viz. Have I not been delivered, and wonderfully too, from\nsickness? from the most distressed condition that could be, and that was\nso frightful to me? and what notice had I taken of it? had I done my\npart? _God had delivered me;_ but _I had not glorified him_: that is to\nsay, I had not owned and been thankful for that as a deliverance; and\nhow could I expect greater deliverance?\nThis touched my heart very much, and immediately I kneeled down, and\ngave God thanks aloud, for my recovery from my sickness.\nJuly 4. In the morning I took the Bible; and, beginning at the New\nTestament, I began seriously to read it, and imposed upon myself to read\na while every morning and every night, not tying myself to the number of\nchapters, but as long as my thoughts should engage me. It was not long\nafter I set seriously to this work, but I found my heart more deeply and\nsincerely affected with the wickedness of my past life; the impression\nof my dream revived, and the words, \u201cAll these things have not brought\nthee to repentance,\u201d ran seriously in my thoughts: I was earnestly\nbegging of God to give me repentance, when it happened providentially\nthe very day, that, reading the Scripture, I came to these words, \u201cHe is\nexalted a Prince, and a Saviour, to give repentance, and to give\nremission.\u201d I threw down the book, and with my heart as well as my hand\nlifted up to heaven, in a kind of ecstasy of joy, I cried out aloud,\n\u201cJesus, thou Son of David, Jesus, thou exalted Prince and Saviour, give\nme repentance!\u201d\nThis was the first time that I could say, in the true sense of the\nwords, that I prayed in all my life; for now I prayed with a sense of my\ncondition, and with a true Scripture view of hope, founded on the\nencouragement of the word of God; and from this time, I may say, I began\nto have hope that God would hear me.\nNow I began to construe the words mentioned above, \u201cCall on me, and I\nwill deliver thee,\u201d in a different sense from what I had ever done\nbefore; for then I had no notion of any thing being called deliverance,\nbut my being delivered from the captivity I was in; for though I was\nindeed at large in the place, yet the island was certainly a prison to\nme, and that in the worst sense in the world; but now I learnt to take\nit in another sense. Now I looked back upon my past life with such\nhorror, and my sins appeared so dreadful, that my soul sought nothing of\nGod, but deliverance from the load of guilt that bore down all my\ncomfort. As for my solitary life, it was nothing; I did not so much as\npray to be delivered from it, or think of it; it was all of no\nconsideration in comparison of this; and I added this part here, to hint\nto whoever shall read it, that whenever they come to a true sense of\nthings, they will find deliverance from sin a much greater blessing than\ndeliverance from affliction.\nBut, leaving this part, I return to my journal. My condition began now\nto be, though not less miserable as to my way of living, yet much easier\nto my mind; and my thoughts being directed, by a constant reading the\nScripture, and praying to God, to things of a higher nature, I had a\ngreat deal of comfort within, which till now I knew nothing of; also as\nmy health and strength returned, I bestirred myself to furnish myself\nwith every thing that I wanted, and make my way of living as regular\nas I could.\nFrom the 4th of July to the 14th, I was chiefly employed in walking\nabout with my gun in my hand a little and a little at a time, as a man\nthat was gathering up his strength after a fit of sickness; for it is\nhardly to be imagined how low I was, and to what weakness I was reduced.\nThe application which I made use of was perfectly new, and perhaps what\nhad never cured an ague before; neither can I recommend it to any one to\npractise by this experiment; and though it did carry off the fit, yet it\nrather contributed to weaken me; for I had frequent convulsions in my\nnerves and limbs for some time.\nI learnt from it also this in particular, that being abroad in the rainy\nseason was the most pernicious thing to my health that could be,\nespecially in those rains which came attended with storms and hurricanes\nof wind; for as the rain which came in a dry season was always most\naccompanied with such storms, so I found this rain was much more\ndangerous than the rain which fell in September and October.\nI had been now in this unhappy island above ten months; all possibility\nof deliverance from this condition seemed to be entirely taken from me;\nand I firmly believed that no human shape had ever set foot upon that\nplace. Having now secured my habitation, as I thought, fully to my mind,\nI had a great desire to make a more perfect discovery of the island, and\nto see what other productions I might find, which yet I knew nothing of.\nIt was the 15th of July that I began to take a more particular survey of\nthe island itself. I went up the creek first, where, as I hinted, I\nbrought my rafts on shore. I found, after I came about two miles up,\nthat the tide did not flow any higher, and that it was no more than a\nlittle brook of running water, and very fresh and good: but this being\nthe dry season, there was hardly any water in some parts of it, at least\nnot enough to run into any stream, so as it could be perceived.\nOn the bank of this brook I found many pleasant savannas or meadows,\nplain, smooth, and covered with grass; and on the rising parts of them\nnext to the higher grounds, where the water, as it might be supposed,\nnever overflowed, I found a great deal of tobacco, green, and growing to\na great and very strong stalk: there were divers other plants which I\nhad no notion of, or understanding about; and might perhaps have virtues\nof their own, which I could not find out.\nI searched for the cassave root, which the Indians in all that climate\nmake their bread of, but I could find none. I saw large plants of aloes,\nbut did not then understand them: I saw several sugar-canes, but wild,\nand, for want of cultivation, imperfect. I contented myself with these\ndiscoveries for this time, and came back, musing with myself what course\nI might take to know the virtue and goodness of any of the fruits or\nplants which I should discover, but could bring it to no conclusion;\nfor, in short, I had made so little observation while I was in the\nBrasils, that I knew little of the plants of the field, at least very\nlittle that might serve me to any purpose now in my distress.\nThe next day, the 16th, I went up the same way again; and, after going\nsomething farther than I had done the day before, I found the brook and\nthe savannas began to cease, and the country became more woody than\nbefore. In this part I found different fruits, and particularly I found\nmelons upon the ground in great abundance, and grapes upon the trees;\nthe vines had spread indeed over the trees, and the clusters of grapes\nwere just now in their prime, very ripe and rich. This was a surprising\ndiscovery, and I was exceeding glad of them; but I was warned by my\nexperience to eat sparingly of them, remembering, that when I was\nashore in Barbary, the eating of grapes killed several of our Englishmen\nwho were slaves there, by throwing them into fluxes and fevers: but I\nfound an excellent use for these grapes, and that was to cure or dry\nthem in the sun, and keep them as dried grapes or raisins are kept,\nwhich I thought would be, as indeed they were, as wholesome, and as\nagreeable to eat, when no grapes might be had.\nI spent all that evening there, and went not back to my habitation,\nwhich by the way was the first night, as I might say, I had lain from\nhome. In the night I took my first contrivance, and got up into a tree,\nwhere I slept well, and the next morning proceeded upon my discovery,\ntravelling near four miles, as I might judge by the length of the\nvalley, keeping still due north, with a ridge of hills on the south and\nnorth side of me.\nAt the end of this march I came to an opening, where the country seemed\nto descend to the west; and a little spring of fresh water, which issued\nout of the side of the hill by me, ran the other way, that is, due east;\nand the country appeared so fresh, so green, so flourishing, every thing\nbeing in a constant verdure or flourish of spring, that it looked like a\nplanted garden.\nI descended a little on the side of that delicious valley, surveying it\nwith a secret kind of pleasure (though mixed with other afflicting\nthoughts) to think that this was all my own, that I was king and lord of\nall this country indefeasibly, and had a right of possession; and if I\ncould convey it, I might have it in inheritance, as completely as any\nlord of a manor in England. I saw here abundance of cocoa-trees, orange\nand lemon, and citron-trees, but all wild, and few bearing any fruit; at\nleast, not then: however, the green limes that I gathered were not only\npleasant to eat, but very wholesome; and I mixed their juice afterwards\nwith water, which made it very wholesome, and very cool and refreshing.\nI found now I had business enough to gather and carry home; and resolved\nto lay up a store, as well of grapes as limes and lemons, to furnish\nmyself for the wet season, which I knew was approaching.\nIn order to do this I gathered a great heap of grapes in one place, and\na lesser heap in another place, and a great parcel of limes and lemons\nin another place; and taking a few of each with me, I travelled\nhomeward, and resolved to come again, and bring a bag or sack, or what I\ncould make, to carry the rest home.\nAccordingly, having spent three days in this journey, I came home (so I\nmust now call my tent, and my cave;) but before I got thither, the\ngrapes were spoiled; the richness of the fruit, and the weight of the\njuice, having broken them, and bruised them, they were good for little\nor nothing: as to the limes, they were good, but I could bring but\na few.\nThe next day, being the 19th, I went back, having made me two small bags\nto bring home my harvest. But I was surprised, when coming to my heap of\ngrapes, which were so rich and fine when I gathered them, I found them\nall spread abroad, trod to pieces, and dragged about, some here, some\nthere, and abundance eaten and devoured. By this I concluded there were\nsome wild creatures thereabouts, which had done this; but what they were\nI knew not.\nHowever, as I found there was no laying them up on heaps, and no\ncarrying them away in a sack, but that one way they would be destroyed,\nand the other way they would be crushed with their own weight, I took\nanother course; for I gathered a large quantity of the grapes, and hung\nthem upon the out branches of the trees, that they might cure and dry in\nthe sun; and as for the limes and lemons, I carried as many back as I\ncould well stand under.\nWhen I came home from this journey, I contemplated with great pleasure\non the fruitfulness of that valley, and the pleasantness of the\nsituation, the security from storms on that side of the water, and the\nwood; and concluded that I had pitched upon a place to fix my abode,\nwhich was by far the worst part of the country. Upon the whole, I began\nto consider of removing my habitation, and to look out for a place\nequally safe as where I now was situated, if possible, in that pleasant\nfruitful part of the island.\nThis thought ran long in my head, and I was exceeding fond of it for\nsome time, the pleasantness of the place tempting me; but when I came to\na nearer view of it, and to consider that I was now by the sea-side,\nwhere it was at least possible that something might happen to my\nadvantage, and that the same ill fate that brought me hither might bring\nsome other unhappy wretches to the same place; and though it was scarce\nprobable that any such thing should ever happen, yet to enclose myself\namong the hills and woods, in the centre of the island, was to\nanticipate my bondage, and to render such an affair not only improbable,\nbut impossible; and that therefore I ought not by any means to remove.\nHowever, I was so enamoured with this place, that I spent much of my\ntime there for the whole remaining part of the month of July; and\nthough, upon second thoughts, I resolved as above, not to remove, yet I\nbuilt me a little kind of a bower, and surrounded it at a distance with\na strong fence, being a double hedge, as high as I could reach, well\nstaked and filled between with brushwood; and here I lay very secure,\nsometimes two or three nights together, always going over it with a\nladder, as before; so that I fancied now I had my country house, and my\nsea-coast house: and this work took me up the beginning of August.\nI had but newly finished my fence, and began to enjoy my labour, but the\nrains came on, and made me stick close to my first habitation; for\nthough I had made me a tent like the other, with a piece of a sail, and\nspread it very well, yet I had not the shelter of a hill to keep me from\nstorms, nor a cave behind me to retreat into when the rains were\nextraordinary.\nAbout the beginning of August, as I said, I had finished my bower, and\nbegan to enjoy myself. The 3d of August I found the grapes I had hung up\nwere perfectly dried, and indeed were excellent good raisins of the\nsun; so I began to take them down from the trees, and it was very happy\nthat I did so; for the rains which followed would have spoiled them, and\nI had lost the best part of my winter food; for I had above two hundred\nlarge bunches of them. No sooner had I taken them all down, and carried\nmost of them home to my cave, but it began to rain; and from thence,\nwhich was the 14th of August, it rained more or less every day, till the\nmiddle of October; and sometimes so violently, that I could not stir out\nof my cave for several days.\nIn this season I was much surprised with the increase of my family: I\nhad been concerned for the loss of one of my cats, who ran away from me,\nor, as I thought, had been dead; and I heard no more tale or tidings of\nher, till to my astonishment she came home about the end of August, with\nthree kittens. This was the more strange to me, because though I had\nkilled a wild cat, as I called it, with my gun, yet I thought it was a\nquite different kind from our European cats; yet the young cats were the\nsame kind of house breed like the old one; and both my cats being\nfemales, I thought it very strange: but from these three cats I\nafterwards came to be so pestered with cats, that I was forced to kill\nthem like vermin, or wild beasts, and to drive them from my house as\nmuch as possible.\nFrom the 14th of August to the 26th, incessant rain, so that I could not\nstir, and was now very careful not to be much wet. In this confinement I\nbegan to be straitened for food; but venturing out twice, I one day\nkilled a goat: and the last day, which was the 26th, found a very large\ntortoise, which was a treat to me, and my food was regulated thus: I ate\na bunch of raisins for my breakfast, a piece of the goat\u2019s flesh, or of\nthe turtle, for my dinner, broiled (for, to my great misfortune, I had\nno vessel to boil or stew any thing;) and two or three of the turtle\u2019s\neggs for supper. During this confinement in my cover by the rain, I\nworked daily two or three hours at enlarging my cave; and, by degrees,\nworked it on towards one side, till I came to the outside of the hill,\nand made a door or way out, which came beyond my fence or wall; and so I\ncame in and out this way: but I was not perfectly easy at lying so open;\nfor as I had managed myself before, I was in a perfect enclosure,\nwhereas now I thought I lay exposed; and yet I could not perceive that\nthere was any living thing to fear, the biggest creature that I had seen\nupon the island being a goat.\nSeptember the 30th. I was now come to the unhappy anniversary of my\nlanding: I cast up the notches on my post, and found I had been on shore\nthree hundred and sixty-five days. I kept this day as a solemn fast,\nsetting it apart to a religious exercise, prostrating myself to the\nground with the most serious humiliation, confessing myself to God,\nacknowledging his righteous judgment upon me, and praying to him to have\nmercy on me, through Jesus Christ; and having not tasted the least\nrefreshment for twelve hours, even till the going down of the sun, I\nthen ate a biscuit-cake and a bunch of grapes, and went to bed,\nfinishing the day as I began it.\nI had all this time observed no sabbath-day; for as at first I had no\nsense of religion upon my mind, I had after some time omitted to\ndistinguish the weeks, by making a longer notch than ordinary for the\nsabbath-day, and so did not really know what any of the days were; but\nnow, having cast up the days as before, I found I had been there a year;\nso I divided it into weeks, and set apart every seventh day for a\nsabbath; though I found at the end of my account I had lost a day or two\nof my reckoning.\nA little after this my ink began to fail me, and so I contented myself\nto use it more sparingly, and to write down only the most remarkable\nevents of my life, without continuing a daily memorandum of\nother things.\nThe rainy season, and the dry season, began now to appear regular to\nme, and I learnt to divide them so as to provide for them accordingly.\nBut I bought all my experience before I had it; and this I am going to\nrelate, was one of the most discouraging experiments that I made at all.\nI have mentioned, that I had saved the few ears of barley and rice which\nI had so surprisingly found spring up, as I thought, of themselves, and\nbelieve there were about thirty stalks of rice, and about twenty of\nbarley: and now I thought it a proper time to sow it after the rains,\nthe sun being in its southern position going from me.\nAccordingly I dug up a piece of ground, as well as I could, with my\nwooden spade, and dividing it into two parts, I sowed my grain; but as I\nwas sowing, it casually occurred to my thought, that I would not sow it\nall at first, because I did not know when was the proper time for it; so\nI sowed about two thirds of the seeds, leaving about a handful of each.\nIt was a great comfort to me afterwards that I did so; for not one grain\nof that I sowed this time came to any thing; for the dry months\nfollowing, the earth having had no rain after the seed was sown, it had\nno moisture to assist its growth, and never came up at all, till the wet\nseason had come again, and then it grew as if it had been newly sown.\nFinding my first seed did not grow, which I easily imagined was by the\ndrought, I sought for a moister piece of ground to make another trial\nin; and I dug up a piece of ground near my new bower, and sowed the rest\nof my seed in February, a little before the vernal equinox; and this,\nhaving the rainy months of March and April to water it, sprung up very\npleasantly, and yielded a very good crop; but having part of the seed\nleft only, and not daring to sow all that I had yet, I had but a small\nquantity at last, my whole crop not amounting to above half a peck of\neach kind.\nBut by this experience I was made master of my business, and knew\nexactly when the proper season was to sow; and that I might expect two\nseed-times, and two harvests, every year.\nWhile this corn was growing, I made a little discovery, which was of use\nto me afterwards. As soon as the rains were over, and the weather began\nto settle, which was about the month of November, I made a visit up the\ncountry to my bower, where though I had not been some months, yet I\nfound all things just as I left them. The circle or double hedge that I\nhad made, was not only firm and entire, but the stakes which I had cut\noff of some trees that grew thereabouts, were all shot out, and grown\nwith long branches, as much as a willow tree usually shoots the first\nyear after lopping its head. I could not tell what tree to call it that\nthese stakes were cut from. I was surprised, and yet very well pleased,\nto see the young trees grow; and I pruned them, and led them up to grow\nas much alike as I could; and it is scarce credible, how beautiful a\nfigure they grew into in three years; so that though the hedge made a\ncircle of about twenty-five yards in diameter, yet the trees, for such I\nmight now call them, soon covered it; and it was a, complete shade,\nsufficient to lodge under all the dry season.\nThis made me resolve to cut some more stakes, and make me an hedge like\nthis in a semicircle round my wall, I mean that of my first dwelling,\nwhich I did; and placing the trees or stakes in a double row, at above\neight yards distance from my first fence, they grew presently, and were\nat first a fine cover to my habitation, and afterwards served for a\ndefence also, as I shall observe in its order.\nI found now, that the seasons of the year might generally be divided,\nnot into summer and winter, as in Europe, but into the rainy seasons and\nthe dry seasons, which were generally thus:\n     Half February, } Rainy, the sun being then on, or near,\n     Half April,    }\n     Half April,    }\n          May,      } Dry, the sun being then to the north\n     Half August,   }\n          September,}\n     Half October,  } Rain, the sun being then come back.\n     Half October,  }\n          December, } Dry, the sun being then to the south\n          January,  }      of the line.\n     Half February, }\nThe rainy season sometimes held longer or shorter, as the winds happened\nto blow; but this was the general observation I made. After I had found,\nby experience, the ill consequence of being abroad in the rain, I took\ncare to furnish myself with provision beforehand, that I might not be\nobliged to go out; and I sat within doors as much as possible during the\nwet months.\nIn this time I found much employment, (and very suitable also to the\ntime) for I found great occasion of many things which I had no way to\nfurnish myself with, but by hard labour and constant application;\nparticularly, I tried many ways to make myself a basket; but all the\ntwigs I could get for the purpose proved so brittle, that they would do\nnothing. It proved of excellent advantage to me now, that when I was a\nboy I used to take great delight in standing at a basket-maker\u2019s in the\ntown where my father lived, to see them make their wicker-ware; and\nbeing, as boys usually are, very officious to help, and a great observer\nof the manner how they worked those things, and sometimes lent an hand,\nI had by this means so full knowledge of the methods of it, that I\nwanted nothing but the materials; when it came into my mind, that the\ntwigs of that tree from whence I cut my stakes that grew, might possibly\nbe as tough as the sallows, and willows, and osiers, in England; and I\nresolved to try.\nAccordingly the next day I went to my country-house, as I called it, and\ncutting some of the smaller twigs, I found them to my purpose as much as\nI could desire; whereupon I came the next time prepared with an hatchet\nto cut down a quantity, which I soon found, for there was a great plenty\nof them: these I set up to dry within my circle or hedges; and when they\nwere fit for use, I carried them to my cave; and here during the next\nseason I employed myself in making (as well as I could) a great many\nbaskets, both to carry earth, or to carry or lay up any thing, as I had\noccasion; and though I did not finish them very handsomely, yet I made\nthem sufficiently serviceable for my purpose; and thus afterwards I took\ncare never to be without them; and as my wicker-ware decayed I made\nmore; especially I made strong deep baskets to place my corn in, instead\nof sacks, when I should come to have any quantity of it.\nHaving mastered this difficulty, and employed a world of time about it,\nI bestirred myself to see, if possible, how to supply two wants. I had\nno vessels to hold any thing that was liquid, except two rundlets, which\nwere almost full of rum, and some glass bottles, some of the common\nsize, and others which were case-bottles square, for the holding of\nwaters, spirits, &c. I had not so much as a pot to boil any thing in,\nexcept a great kettle which I saved out of the ship, and which was too\nbig for such uses as I desired it for, viz. to make broth, and stew a\nbit of meat by itself. The second thing I would fain have had, was a\ntobacco-pipe, but it was impossible for me to make one; however, I found\na contrivance for that too at last.\nI employed myself in planting my second rows of stakes of piles, and in\nthis wicker-work, all the summer, or dry season; when another business\ntook me up more time than it could be imagined I could spare.\nI mentioned before, that I had a great mind to see the whole island,\nand that I had travelled up the brook, and so on to where I built my\nbower, and where I had an opening quite to the sea, on the other side of\nthe island. I now resolved to travel quite across to the sea shore on\nthat side. So taking my gun and hatchet, and my dog, and a larger\nquantity of powder and shot than usual, with two biscuit-cakes and a\ngreat bunch of raisins in my pouch, for my store, I began my journey.\nWhen I had passed the vale where my bower stood, as above, I came within\nview of the sea, to the west; and it being a very clear day, I fairly\ndescried land, whether an island or continent I could not tell; but it\nlay very high, extending from the west to the W.S.W. at a very great\ndistance; by my guess it could not be less than fifteen or twenty\nleagues off.\nI could not tell what part of the world this might be, otherwise than\nthat I knew it must be part of America; and, as I concluded by all my\nobservations, must be near the Spanish dominions, and perhaps was all\ninhabited by savages, where if I should have landed, I had been in a\nworse condition than I was now; and therefore I acquiesced in the\ndispositions of Providence, which I began now to own, and to believe,\nordered every thing for the best; I say, I quieted my mind with this,\nand left afflicting myself with fruitless wishes of being there.\nBesides, after some pause upon this affair, I considered, that if this\nland was the Spanish coast, I should certainly, one time or other, see\nsome vessels pass or repass one way or other; but if not, then it was\nthe savage coast between the Spanish country and Brasil, which were\nindeed the worst of savages; for they are cannibals, or men-eaters, and\nfail not to murder and devour all the human bodies that fall into their\nhands. With these considerations I walked very leisurely forward. I\nfound that side of the island where I now was, much pleasanter than\nmine, the open or savanna fields sweet, adorned with flowers and grass,\nand full of very fine woods. I saw abundance of parrots, and fain would\nI have caught one, if possible, to have kept it to be tame, and taught\nit to speak to me. I did, after some painstaking, catch a young parrot;\nfor I knocked it down with a stick, and having recovered it, I brought\nit home, but it was some years before I could make him speak. However,\nat last I taught him to call me by my name very familiarly: but the\naccident that followed, though it be a trifle, will be very diverting in\nits place.\nI was exceedingly diverted with this journey: I found in the low\ngrounds, hares, as I thought them to be, and foxes, but they differed\ngreatly from all the other kinds I had met with; nor could I satisfy\nmyself to eat them, though I killed several: but I had no need to be\nventurous; for I had no want of food, and of that which was very good\ntoo; especially these three sorts, viz. goats, pigeons, and turtle or\ntortoise; which added to my grapes. Leadenhall-market could not have\nfurnished a better table than I, in proportion to the company: and\nthough my case was deplorable enough, yet I had great cause for\nthankfulness, that I was not driven to any extremities for food; but\nrather plenty, even to dainties.\nI never travelled in this journey above two miles outright in a day, or\nthereabouts; but I traise this pasteook so many turns and returns, to see what\ndiscoveries I could make, that I came weary enough to the place where I\nresolved to sit down for all night; and then either reposed myself in a\ntree, or surrounded myself with a row of stakes set upright in the\nground, either from one tree to another, or so as no wild creature could\ncome at me without waking me.\nAs soon as I came to the sea-shore, I was surprised to see that I had\ntaken up my lot on the worst side of the island; for here indeed the\nshore was covered with innumerable turtles, whereas on the other side I\nhad found but three in a year and an half. Here was also an infinite\nnumber of fowls of many kinds, some of which I had not seen before, and\nmany of them very good meat; but such as I knew not the names of except\nthose called penguins.\nI could have shot as many as I pleased, but was very sparing of my\npowder and shot: and therefore had more mind to kill a she-goat, if I\ncould, which I could better feed on: and though there were many goats\nhere more than on the other side of the island, yet it was with much\nmore difficulty that I could come near them; the country being flat and\neven, and they saw me much sooner than when I was on the hills.\nI confess this side of the country was much pleasanter than mine, but\nyet I had not the least inclination to remove; for as I was fixed in my\nhabitation, it became natural to me, and I seemed all the while I was\nhere to be, as it were, upon a journey, and from home: however, I\ntravelled along the shore of the sea towards the east, I suppose, about\ntwelve miles; and then setting up a great pole upon the shore for a\nmark, I concluded I would go home again; and the next journey I took\nshould be on the other side of the island, east from my dwelling, and so\nround, till I came to my post again: of which in its place.\nI took another way to come back than that I went, thinking I could\neasily keep all the island so much in my view, that I could not miss\nfinding my first dwelling by viewing the country; but I found myself\nmistaken; for being come about two or three miles, I found myself\ndescended into a very large valley; but so surrounded with hills, and\nthose hills covered with woods, that I could not see which was my way by\nany direction but that of the sun; nor even then, unless I knew very\nwell the position of the sun at that time of the day.\nIt happened, to my farther misfortune, that the weather proved hazy for\nthree or four days, while I was in this valley; and not being able to\nsee the sun, I wandered about very uncomfortably, and at last was\nobliged to find out the sea-side, look for my post, and come back the\nsame way I went; and then by easy journies I turned homeward, the\nweather being exceeding hot; and my gun, ammunition, hatchet, and other\nthings, very heavy.\nIn this journey my dog surprised a young kid, and seized upon it; and I\nrunning in to take hold of it, caught it, and saved it alive from the\ndog. I had a great mind to bring it home, if I could; for I had often\nbeen musing whether it might not be possible to get a kid or two, and so\nraise a breed of tame goats, which might supply me when my powder and\nshot should be spent.\nI made a collar for this little creature, and with a string which I made\nof some rope-yarn, which I always carried about me, I led him along,\nthough with some difficulty, till I came to my bower, and there I\nenclosed him, and left him; for I was very impatient to be at home, from\nwhence I had been absent above a month.\nI cannot express what a satisfaction it was to me to come into my old\nhutch, and lie down in my hammock-bed: this little wandering journey,\nwithout a settled place of abode, had been so unpleasant to me that my\nown house, as I called it to myself, was a perfect settlement to me,\ncompared to that; and it rendered every thing about me so comfortable,\nthat I resolved I would never go a great way from it again, while it\nshould be my lot to stay on the island.\nI reposed myself here a week, to rest and regale myself after my long\njourney; during which, most of the time was taken up in the weighty\naffair of making a cage for my Pol, who began now to be a mere domestic,\nand to be mighty well acquainted with me. Then I began to think of the\npoor kid, which I had pent in within my little circle, and resolved to\ngo and fetch it home, and give it some food; accordingly I went, and\nfound it where I left it; for indeed it could not get out, but was\nalmost starved for want of food; I went and cut boughs of trees and\nbranches of such shrubs as I could find, and threw it over, and having\nfed it, I tied it as I did before to lead it away; but it was so tame\nwith being hungry, that I had no need to have tied it; for it followed\nme like a dog; and as I continually fed it, the creature became so\nloving, so gentle, and so fond, that it became from that time one of my\ndomestics also, and would never leave me afterwards.\nThe rainy season of the autumnal equinox was now come, and I kept the\n30th of September in the same solemn manner as before, being the\nanniversary of my landing on the island, having now been there two\nyears, and no more prospect of being delivered than the first day I came\nthere. I spent the whole day in humble and thankful acknowledgments of\nthe many wonderful mercies which my solitary condition was attended\nwith, and without which it might have been infinitely more miserable. I\ngave humble and hearty thanks, that God had been pleased to discover to\nme even that it was possible I might be more happy in this solitary\ncondition than I should have been in a liberty of society, and in all\nthe pleasures of the world: that he could fully make up to me the\ndeficiencies of my solitary state, and the want of human society, by his\npresence, and the communication of his grace to my soul, supporting,\ncomforting, and encouraging me to depend upon his providence here, and\nhope for his eternal presence hereafter.\nIt was now that I began sensibly to feel how much more happy the life I\nnow led was, with all its miserable circumstances, than the wicked,\ncursed, abominable life I led all the past part of my days; and now,\nhaving changed both my sorrows and my joys, my very desires altered, my\naffections changed their gust, and my delights were perfectly new from\nwhat they were at first coming, or indeed for the two years past.\nBefore, as I walked about, either on my hunting, or for viewing the\ncountry, the anguish of my soul at my condition would break out upon me\non a sudden, and my very heart would die within me, to think of the\nwoods, the mountains, the deserts I was in; and how I was a prisoner,\nlocked up with the eternal bars and bolts of the ocean, in an\nuninhabited wilderness, without redemption. In the midst of the greatest\ncomposures of my mind, this would break out upon me like a storm, and\nmade me wring my hands, and weep like a child. Sometimes it would take\nme in the middle of my work, and I would immediately sit down and sigh,\nand look upon the ground for an hour or two together, and this was still\nworse to me; for if I could burst out into tears, or vent myself by\nwords, it would go off; and the grief, having exhausted itself,\nwould abate.\nBut now I began to exercise myself with new thoughts; I daily read the\nword of God, and applied all the comforts of it to my present state. One\nmorning being very sad, I opened the Bible upon these words, \u201cI will\nnever, never leave thee, nor forsake thee!\u201d Immediately it occurred,\nthat these words were to me, why else should they be directed in such a\nmanner, just at the moment when I was mourning over my condition, as one\nforsaken of God and man? \u201cWell then,\u201d said I, \u201cif God does not forsake\nme, of what ill consequence can it be, or what matters it, though the\nworld should all forsake me; seeing, on the other hand, if I had all the\nworld, and should lose the favour and blessing of God, there would be no\ncomparison in the loss?\u201d\nFrom this moment I began to conclude in my mind, that it was possible\nfor me to be more happy in this forsaken, solitary condition, than it\nwas probable I should have ever been in any other particular state in\nthe world; and with this thought I was going to give thanks to God for\nbringing me to this place.\nI know not what it was, but something shocked my mind at that thought,\nand I durst not speak the words, \u201cHow canst thou be such an hypocrite,\u201d\nsaid I, even audibly, \u201cto pretend to be thankful for a condition, which,\nhowever thou mayst endeavour to be contented with, thou wouldst rather\npray heartily to be delivered from?\u201d So I stopped there; but though I\ncould not say I thanked God for being there, yet I sincerely gave\nthanks to God for opening my eyes, by whatever afflicting providences,\nto see the former condition, of my life, and to mourn for my wickedness,\nand repent. I never opened the Bible, or shut it, but my very soul\nwithin me blessed God for directing my friend in England, without any\norder of mine, to pack it up among my goods; and for assisting me\nafterwards to save it out of the wreck of the ship.\nThus, and in this disposition of mind, I began my third year; and though\nI have not given the reader the trouble of so particular an account of\nmy works this year as at the first, yet in general it may be observed,\nthat I was very seldom idle; having regularly divided my time, according\nto the several daily employments that were before me; such as, first, my\nduty to God, and reading the Scriptures, which I constantly set apart\nsome time for, thrice, every day: secondly, the going abroad with my gun\nfor food, which generally took me up three hours every morning when it\ndid not rain: thirdly, the ordering, curing, preserving, and cooking\nwhat I had killed or catched for my supply; these took up great part of\nthe day: also it is to be considered, that in the middle of the day,\nwhen the sun was in the zenith, the violence of the heat was too great\nto stir out; so that about four hours in the evening was all the time I\ncould be supposed to work in; with this exception, that sometimes I\nchanged my hours of hunting and working, and went to work in the\nmorning, and abroad with my gun in the afternoon.\nTo this short time allowed for labour, I desire may be added the\nexceeding laboriousness of my work; the many hours, which for want of\ntools, want of help, and want of skill, every thing that I did, took up\nout of my time: for example, I was full two-and-forty days making me a\nboard for a long shelf, which I wanted in my cave; whereas two sawyers,\nwith their tools and saw-pit, would have cut six of them out of the same\ntree in half a day.\nMy case was this: it was to be a large tree which was to be cut down,\nbecause my board was to be a broad one. The tree I was three days a\ncutting down, and two more cutting off the boughs, and reducing it to a\nlog, or piece of timber. With inexpressible hacking and hewing I reduced\nboth the sides of it into chips, till it began to be light enough to\nmove; then I turned it, and made one side of it smooth and flat, as a\nboard, from end to end: then turning that side downward, cut the other\nside till I brought the plank to be about three inches thick, and smooth\non both sides. Any one may judge the labour of my hands in such a piece\nof work; but labour and patience carried me through that and many other\nthings; I only observe this in particular, to shew the reason why so\nmuch of my time went away with so little work, viz. that what might be a\nlittle to be done with help and tools, was a vast labour, and required a\nprodigious time to do alone, and by hand.\nBut notwithstanding this, with patience and labour, I went through many\nthings, and indeed ever thing that my circumstances made necessary for\nme to do, as will appear by what follows.\nI was now in the months of November and December, expecting my crop of\nbarley and rice. The ground I had manured or dug up for them was not\ngreat; for, as I observed, my seed of each, was not above the quantity\nof half a peck; for I had lost one whole crop by sowing in the dry\nseason; but now my crop promised very well, when on a sudden I found I\nwas in danger of losing it all again by enemies of several sorts, which\nit was scarce possible to keep from it; as first, the goats, and wild\ncreatures which I called hares, which, tasting the sweetness of the\nblade, lay in it night and day, as soon as it came up, and ate it so\nclose, that it could get no time to shoot up into stalks.\nThis I saw no remedy for, but by making an enclosure about it with a\nhedge, which I did with a great deal of toil; and the more, because it\nrequired a great deal of speed; the creatures daily spoiling my corn.\nHowever, as my arable land was but small, suited to my crop, I got it\ntotally well fenced in about three weeks time, and shooting some of the\ncreatures in the day-time, I set my dog to guard it in the night, tying\nhim up to a stake at the gate, where he would stand and bark all night\nlong; so in a little time the enemies forsook the place, and the corn\ngrew very strong and well, and began to ripen apace.\nBut as the beasts ruined me before, while my corn was in the blade, so\nthe birds were as likely to ruin me now, when it was in the ear; for\ngoing along by the place to see how it throve, I saw my little crop\nsurrounded with fowls of I know not how many sorts, which stood as it\nwere watching till I should be gone. I immediately let fly among them\n(for I always had my gun with me.) I had no sooner shot, but there arose\nup a little cloud of fowls, which I had not seen at all, from among the\ncorn itself.\nThis touched me sensibly; for I foresaw, that in a few days they would\ndevour all my hopes; that I should be starved, and never be able to\nraise a crop at all; and what to do I could not tell: however, I\nresolved not to lose my corn, if possible, though I should watch it\nnight and day. In the first place, I went among it to see what damage\nwas already done, and found they had spoiled a good deal of it; but\nthat, as it was yet too green for them, the loss was not so great, but\nthe remainder was like to be a good crop, if it could be saved.\nI stayed by it to load my gun, and then coming away, I could easily see\nthe thieves sitting upon all the trees about me, as if they only waited\ntill I was gone away, and the event proved it to be so; for as I walked\noff as if I was gone, I was no sooner out of their sight, but they\ndropped down one by one into the corn again. I was so provoked, that I\ncould not have patience to stay till more came on, knowing that every\ngrain that they ate now was, as it might be said, a peck loaf to me in\nthe consequence; but coming up to the hedge, I fired again, and killed\nthree of them. This was what I wished for; so I took them up, and served\nthem as we serve notorious thieves in England, viz. hanged them in\nchains for a terror to others. It is impossible to imagine almost, that\nthis should have such an effect as it had; for the fowls would not only\nnot come at the corn, but in short they forsook all that part of the\nisland, and I could never see a bird near the place as long as my\nscarecrows hung there.\nThis I was very glad of, you may be sure; and about the latter end of\nDecember, which was our second harvest of the year, I reaped my corn.\nI was sadly put to it for a scythe or a sickle to cut it down, and all I\ncould do was to make one as well as I could out of one of the\nbroad-swords, or cutlasses, which I saved among the arms out of the\nship. However, as my crop was but small, I had no great difficulty to\ncut it down: in short, I reaped it my way, for I cut nothing off but the\nears, and carried it away in a great basket which I had made, and so\nrubbed it out with my hands: and at the end of all my harvesting I\nfound, that out of my half-peck of seed I had near two bushels of rice,\nand above two bushels and a half of barley, that is to say, by my guess,\nfor I had no measure at that time.\nHowever, this was a great encouragement to me; and I foresaw, that in\ntime it would please God to supply me with bread: and yet here I was\nperplexed again; for I neither knew how to grind or make meal of my\ncorn, or indeed how to clean it and part it; nor, if made into meal, how\nto make bread of it; and if how to make it, yet. I knew not how to bake\nit. These things being added to my desire of having a good quantity for\nstore, and to secure a constant supply, I resolved not to taste any of\nthis crop, but to preserve it all for seed against the next season, and\nin the meantime to employ all my study and hours of working to\naccomplish this great work of providing myself with corn and bread.\nIt might be truly said, that I now worked for my bread. It is a little\nwonderful, and what I believe few people have thought much upon; viz.\nthe strange multitude of little things necessary in the providing,\nproducing, curing, dressing, making, and finishing this one article\nof bread.\nI, that was reduced to a mere state of nature, found this to be my daily\ndiscouragement, and was made more and more sensible of it every hour,\neven after I got the first handful of seed corn, which, as I have said,\ncame up unexpectedly, and indeed to a surprise. First, I had no plough\nto turn the earth, no spade or shovel to dig it. Well, this I conquered\nby making a wooden spade, as I observed before; but this did my work but\nin a wooden manner; and though it cost me a great many days to make it,\nyet, for want of iron, it not only wore out the sooner, but made my work\nthe harder, and made it be performed much worse.\nHowever, this I bore with too, and was content to work it out with\npatience, and bear with the badness of the performance. When the corn\nwas sowed, I had no harrow, but was forced to go over it myself, and\ndrag a great heavy bough of a tree over it, to scratch the earth, as it\nmay be called, rather than rake or harrow it.\nWhen it was growing or grown, I have observed already how many things I\nwanted, to fence it, secure it, mow or reap it, cure or carry it home,\nthresh, part it from the chaff, and save it. Then I wanted a mill to\ngrind it, sieves to dress it, yeast and salt to make it into bread, and\nan oven to bake it in; and all these things I did without, as shall be\nobserved; and yet the corn was an inestimable comfort and advantage to\nme too; but all this, as I said, made every thing laborious and tedious\nto me, but that there was no help for; neither was my time so much loss\nto me, because I had divided it; a certain part of it was every day\nappointed to these works; and as I resolved to use none of the corn for\nbread till I had a greater quantity by me, I had the next six months to\napply myself wholly by labour and invention, to furnish myself with\nutensils proper for the performing all the operations necessary for the\nmaking the corn, when I had it, fit for my use.\nBut first I was to prepare more land, for I had now seed enough to sow\nabove an acre of ground. Before I did this, I had a week\u2019s work at least\nto make me a spade, which, when it was done, was a very sorry one\nindeed, and very heavy, and required double labour to work with it;\nhowever, I went through that, and sowed my seeds in two large flat\npieces of ground, as near my house as I could find them to my mind, and\nfenced them in with a good hedge, the stakes of which were all cut off\nthat wood which I had set before, which I knew would grow; so that in\none year\u2019s time I knew I should have a quick or living hedge, that would\nwant but little repair. This work was not so little as to take me up\nless than three months; because great part of that time was in the wet\nseason, when I could not go abroad.\nWithin-door, that is, when it rained, and I could not go out, I found\nemployment on the following occasion, always observing, that all the\nwhile I was at work, I diverted myself with talking to my parrot, and\nteaching him to speak; and I quickly learnt him to know his own name; at\nlast, to speak it out pretty loud, Pol; which was the first word I ever\nheard spoken in the island by any mouth but my own. This therefore was\nnot my work, but an assistant to my work; for now, as I said, I had a\ngreat employment upon my hands, as follows: viz. I had long studied, by\nsome means or other, to make myself some earthen vessels, which indeed I\nwanted sorely, but knew not where to come at them: however, considering\nthe heat of the climate, I did not doubt but, if I could find out any\nsuch clay, I might botch up some such pot as might, being dried by the\nsun, be hard enough and strong enough to bear handling, and to hold any\nthing that was dry, and required to be kept so; and as this was\nnecessary in preparing corn, meal, &c. which was the thing I was upon, I\nresolved to make some as large as I could, and fit only to stand like\njars to hold what should be put into them.\nIt would make the reader pity me, or rather laugh at me, to tell how\nmany awkward ways I took to raise this paste, what odd misshapen ugly\nthings I made, how many of them fell in, and how many fell out, the clay\nnot being stiff enough to bear its own weight; how many cracked by the\nover-violent heat of the sun, being set out too hastily; and how many\nfell to pieces with only removing, as well before as after they were\ndried; and, in a word, how, after having laboured hard to find the clay,\nto dig it, to temper it, to bring it home, and work it, I could not make\nabove two large earthen ugly things, I cannot call them jars, in about\ntwo months labour.\nHowever, as the sun baked these two very dry and hard, I lifted them\nvery gently up and set them down again in two great wicker-baskets,\nwhich I had made on purpose for them that they might not break; and, as\nbetween the pot and the basket there was a little room to spare, I\nstuffed it full of the rice and barley-straw; and these two pots being\nto stand always dry, I thought would hold my dry corn, and perhaps the\nmeal when the corn was bruised.\nThough I miscarried so much in my design for large pots, yet I made\nseveral smaller things with better success; such as little round pots,\nflat dishes, pitchers, and pipkins, and any thing my hand turned to; and\nthe heat of the sun baked them strangely hard.\nBut all this would not answer my end, which was to get an earthen pot to\nhold what was liquid, and bear the fire, which none of these could do.\nIt happened after some time, making a pretty large fire for cooking my\nmeat, when I went to put it out, after I had done with it, I found a\nbroken piece of one of my earthenware vessels in the fire, burnt as hard\nas a stone, and red as a tile. I was agreeably surprised to see it, and\nsaid to myself, that certainly they might be made to burn whole, if they\nwould burn broken.\nThis set me to study how to order my fire, so as to make it burn me some\npots. I had no notion of a kiln such as the potters burn in, or of\nglazing them with lead, though I had some lead to do it with; but I\nplaced three large pipkins, and two or three pots, in a pile one upon\nanother, and placed my fire-wood all round it with a great heap of\nembers under them: I piled the fire with fresh fuel round the outside,\nand upon the top, till I saw the pots in the inside red-hot quite\nthrough, and observed that they did not crack at all: when I saw them\nclear red, I let them stand in that heat about five or six hours, till I\nfound one of them, though it did not crack, did melt or run; for the\nsand which was mixed with the clay melted by the violence of the heat,\nand would have run into glass, if I had gone on; so I slacked my fire\ngradually, till the pots began to abate of the red colour; and watching\nthem all night that I might not let the fire abate too fast, in the\nmorning I had three very good, I will not say handsome pipkins, and two\nother earthen pots, as hard burnt as could be desired; and one of them\nperfectly glazed with the running of the sand.\nAfter this experiment I need not say that I wanted no sort of\nearthenware for my use; but I must needs say, as to the shapes of them,\nthey were very indifferent, as any one may suppose, when I had no way of\nmaking them, but as the children make dirt-pies, or as a woman would\nmake pies that never learnt to raise paste.\nNo joy at a thing of so mean a nature was ever equal to mine, when I\nfound I had made an earthen pot that would bear the fire; and I had\nhardly patience to stay till they were cold, before I set one upon the\nfire again with some water in it, to boil me some meat, which I did\nadmirably well; and with a piece of a kid I made some very good broth,\nthough I wanted oatmeal, and several other ingredients requisite to\nmake it so good as I would have had it.\nMy next concern was to get me a stone mortar to stamp or beat some corn\nin; for as to the mill, there was no thought of arriving to that\nperfection of art with one pair of hands. To supply this want, I was at\na great loss; for of all trades in the world I was as perfectly\nunqualified for a stone-cutter, as for any whatever; neither had I any\ntools to go about it with. I spent many a day to find out a great stone\nbig enough to cut hollow, and make fit for a mortar, and could find none\nat all except what was in the solid rock, and which I had no way to dig\nor cut out; nor indeed were the rocks in the island of hardness\nsufficient, but were all of a sandy crumbling stone, which would neither\nbear the weight of an heavy pestle, nor would break the corn without\nfilling it with sand; so, after a great deal of time lost in searching\nfor a stone, I gave it over, and resolved to look out a great block of\nhard wood, which I found indeed much easier; and getting one as big as I\nhad strength to stir, I rounded it, and formed it on the outside with my\naxe and hatchet; and then with the help of fire and infinite labour,\nmade an hollow place in it, as the Indians in Brasil make their canoes.\nAfter this, I made a great heavy pestle or beater of the wood called the\niron-wood, and this I prepared and laid by against I had my next crop of\ncorn, when I proposed to myself to grind, or rather pound, my corn or\nmeal to make my bread.\nMy next difficulty was to make a sieve or searce, to dress my meal, and\npart it from the bran and the husk, without which I did not see it\npossible I could have any bread. This was a most difficult thing, so\nmuch as but to think on; for to be sure I had nothing like the necessary\nthings to make it with; I mean fine thin canvass, or stuff, to searce\nthe meal through. And here I was at a full stop for many months; nor did\nI really know what to do: linen I had none left but what was mere rags;\nI had goat\u2019s hair, but neither knew I how to weave or spin it; and had\nI known how, here were no tools to work it with. All the remedy that I\nfound for this, was, that at last I did remember I had among the\nseamen\u2019s clothes which were saved out of the ship, some neckcloths of\ncalico or muslin; and with some pieces of these I made three small\nsieves, but proper enough for the work; and thus I made shift for some\nyears; how I did afterwards, I shall shew in its place.\nThe baking part was the next thing to be considered, and how I should\nmake bread when I came to have corn; for, first, I had no yeast: as to\nthat part, there was no supplying the want, so I did not concern myself\nmuch about it. But for an oven, I was indeed in great pain. At length I\nfound out an experiment for that also, which was this; I made some\nearthen vessels very broad, but not deep; that is to say, about two feet\ndiameter, and not above nine inches deep; these I burnt in the fire, as\nI had done the other, and laid them by; and when I wanted to bake, I\nmade a great fire upon the hearth, which I had paved with some square\ntiles of my own making and burning also; but I should not call\nthem square.\nWhen the fire-wood was burnt pretty much into embers, or live coals, I\ndrew them forward upon this hearth, so as to cover it all over; and\nthere I let them lie, till the hearth was very hot; then sweeping away\nall the embers, I set down my loaf, or loaves; and whelming down the\nearthen pot upon them, drew the embers all round the outside of the pot,\nto keep in, and add to the heat; and thus, as well as in the best oven\nin the world, I baked my barley-loaves, and became in a little time a\nmere pastry-cook into the bargain; for I made myself several cakes of\nthe rice, and puddings; indeed I made no pies, neither had I any thing\nto put into them, supposing I had, except the flesh either of fowls\nor goats.\nIt need not be wondered at, if all these things took me up most part of\nthe third year of my abode here; for it is to be observed, that in the\nintervals of these things I had my new harvest and husbandry to manage:\nfor I reaped my corn in its season, and carried it home as well as I\ncould, and laid it up in the ear, in my large baskets, till I had time\nto rub it out; for I had no floor to thresh it on, or instrument to\nthresh it with.\nAnd now indeed my stock of corn increasing, I really wanted to build my\nbarns bigger: I wanted a place to lay it up in; for the increase of the\ncorn now yielded me so much, that I had of the barley about twenty\nbushels, and of the rice as much, or more; insomuch that I now resolved\nto begin to use it freely, for my bread had been quite gone a great\nwhile; also I resolved to see what quantity would be sufficient for me a\nwhole year, and to sow but once a year.\nUpon the whole, I found that the forty bushels of barley and rice were\nmuch more than I could consume in a year: so I resolved to sow just the\nsame quantity every year that I sowed the last, in hopes that such a\nquantity would fully provide me with bread, &c.\nAll the while these things were doing, you may be sure my thoughts ran\nmany times upon the prospect of land which I had seen from the other\nside of the island; and I was not without secret wishes, that I was on\nshore there, fancying that seeing the main land, and an inhabited\ncountry, I might find some way or other to convey myself farther, and\nperhaps at last find some means of escape.\nBut all this while I made no allowance for the dangers of such a\ncondition, and how I might fall into the hands of savages, and perhaps\nsuch as I might have reason to think far worse than the lions and tigers\nof Africa: that if I once came into their power, I should run an hazard\nmore than a thousand to one of being killed, and perhaps of being eaten;\nfor I had heard that the people of the Caribean coasts were cannibals,\nor men-eaters; and I knew by the latitude that I could not be far off\nfrom that shore: that, suppose they were not cannibals, yet they might\nkill me, as many Europeans who had fallen into their hands had been\nserved, even when they had been ten or twenty together; much more I that\nwas but one, and could make little or no defence. All these things, I\nsay, which I ought to have considered well of, and I did cast up in my\nthoughts afterwards, yet took none of my apprehensions at first; and my\nhead ran mightily upon the thoughts of getting over to that shore.\nNow I wished for my boy Xury, and the long-boat, with the shoulder of\nmutton sail, with which I sailed above a thousand miles on the coast of\nAfrica; but this was in vain. Then I thought I would go and look on our\nship\u2019s boat, which, as I have said, was blown up upon the shore a great\nway in the storm, when we were first cast away. She lay almost where she\ndid at first, but not quite; and was turned by the force of the waves\nand the winds almost bottom upwards, against the high ridge of a beachy\nrough sand, but no water about her as before.\nIf I had had hands to have refitted her, and have launched her into the\nwater, the boat would have done well enough, and I might have gone back\ninto the Brasils with her easy enough; but I might have easily foreseen,\nthat I could no more turn her, and set her upright upon her bottom, than\nI could remove the island. However, I went to the wood, and cut levers\nand rollers, and brought them to the boat, resolving to try what I could\ndo; suggesting to myself, that if I could but turn her down, I might\neasily repair the damage she had received, and she would be a very good\nboat, and I might go to sea in her very easily.\nI spared no pains indeed in this piece of fruitless toil, and spent, I\nthink, three or four weeks about it; at last finding it impossible to\nheave it up with my little strength, I fell to digging away the sand to\nundermine it; and so to make it fall down, setting pieces of wood to\nthrust and guide it right in the fall.\nBut when I had done this, I was unable to stir it up again, or to get\nunder it, much less to move it forwards towards the water; so I was\nforced to give it over: and yet, though I gave over the hopes of the\nboat, my desire to venture over for the main increased, rather than\ndecreased, as the means for it seemed impossible.\nThis at length set me upon thinking whether it was not possible to make\nmyself a canoe or periagua, such as the natives of those climates make,\neven without tools, or, as I might say, without hands, viz. of the trunk\nof a great tree. This I not only thought possible, but easy: and pleased\nmyself extremely with my thoughts of making it, and with my having much\nmore convenience for it than any of the Negroes or Indians; but not at\nall considering the particular inconveniences which I lay under more\nthan the Indians did, viz. want of hands to move it into the water, when\nit was made; a difficulty much harder for me to surmount than all the\nconsequences of want of tools could be to them: for what was it to me,\nthat when I had chosen a vast tree in the woods, I might with great\ntrouble cut it down, if after I might be able with my tools to hew and\ndub the outside into a proper shape of a boat, and burn or cut out the\ninside to make it hollow, so to make a boat of it, if, after all this, I\nmust leave it just there where I found it, and was not able to launch it\ninto the water?\nOne would have thought I could not have had the least reflection upon my\nmind of this circumstance, while I was making this boat, but I should\nhave immediately thought how I should get it into the sea; but my\nthoughts were so intent upon my voyage over the sea in it, that I never\nonce considered how I should get it off the land; and it was really in\nits own nature more easy for me to guide it over forty-five miles of\nsea, than about forty-five fathoms of land, where it lay, to set it\nafloat in the water.\nI went to work upon this boat the most like a fool that ever man did,\nwho had any of his senses awake. I pleased myself with the design,\nwithout determining whether I was ever able to undertake it; not but\nthat the difficulty of launching my boat came often into my head; but I\nput a stop to my own inquiries into it by this foolish answer, which I\ngave myself; Let me first make it, I\u2019ll warrant I\u2019ll find some way or\nother to get it along, when it is done.\nThis was a most preposterous method; but the eagerness of my fancy\nprevailed, and to work I went, and felled a cedar-tree: I question much\nwhether Solomon ever had such an one for the building the temple at\nJerusalem; it was five feet ten inches diameter at the lower part next\nthe stump, and four feet eleven inches diameter at the end of twenty-two\nfeet, after which it lessened for a while, and then parted into\nbranches. It was not without infinite labour that I felled this tree: I\nwas twenty days hacking and hewing at it at the bottom; I was fourteen\nmore getting the branches and limbs, and the vast spreading head of it,\ncut off, which I hacked and hewed through with my axe and hatchet, with\ninexpressible labour: after this it cost me a month to shape it, and dub\nit to a proportion, and to something like the bottom of a boat, that it\nmight swim upright as it ought to do. It cost me near three months more\nto clear the inside, and work it out so as to make an exact boat of it:\nthis I did indeed without fire, by mere mallet and chissel, and by the\ndint of hard labour; till I had brought it to be a very handsome\nperiagua, and big enough to have carried six-and-twenty men, and\nconsequently big enough to have carried me and all my cargo.\nWhen I had gone through this work, I was extremely delighted with it:\nthe boat was really much bigger than I ever saw a canoe or periagua,\nthat was made of one tree, in my life; many a weary stroke it had cost,\nyou may be sure, for there remained nothing but to get it into the\nwater; and had I gotten it into the water, I make no question but I\nshould have begun the maddest voyage, and the most unlikely to be\nperformed, that ever was undertaken.\nBut all my devices to get it into the water failed me, though they cost\ninfinite labour too; it lay about one hundred yards from the water, and\nnot more; but the first inconvenience was, it was up hill towards the\ncreek. Well, to take away this discouragement, I resolved to dig into\nthe surface of the earth, and so make a declivity; this I began, and it\ncost me a prodigious deal of pains: but who grudge pains, that have\ntheir deliverance in view? but when this was worked through, and this\ndifficulty managed, it was still much at one; for I could no more stir\nthe canoe, than I could the other boat.\nThen I measured the distance of ground, and resolved to cut a dock, or\ncanal, to bring the water up to the canoe, seeing I could not bring the\ncanoe down to the water: well, I began this work, and when I began to\nenter into it, and calculated how deep it was to be dug, how broad, how\nthe stuff to be thrown out, I found, that by the number of hands I had,\nbeing none but my own, it must have been ten or twelve years before I\nshould have gone through with it; for the shore lay high, so that at the\nupper end it must have been at least twenty feet deep: so at length,\nthough with great reluctancy, I gave this attempt over also.\nThis grieved me heartily; and now I saw, though too late, the folly of\nbeginning a work before we count the cost, and before we judge lightly\nof our own strength to go through with it.\nIn the middle of this work I finished my fourth year in this place, and\nkept my anniversary with the same devotion, and with as much comfort, as\never before; for by a constant study, and serious application of the\nword of God, and by the assistance of his grace, I gained a different\nknowledge from what I had before; I entertained different notions of\nthings; I looked now upon the world as a thing remote; which I had\nnothing to do with, no expectation from, and indeed no desires about: in\na word, I had nothing indeed to do with it, nor was ever like to have;\nso I thought it looked as we may perhaps look upon it hereafter; viz. as\na place I had lived in, but was come out of it; and well I might say,\nas father Abraham to Dives, \u201cBetween me and thee there is a great\ngulf fixed.\u201d\nIn the first place, I was removed from all the wickedness of the world\nhere: I had neither the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, or the\npride of life: I had nothing to covet, for I had all I was now capable\nof enjoying; I was lord of the whole manor, or, if I pleased, I might\ncall myself king or emperor over the whole country which I had\npossession of: there were no rivals: I had no competitor, none to\ndispute sovereignty or command with me; I might have raised\nship-loadings of corn, but I had no use for it; so I let as little grow\nas I thought enough for my occasion: I had tortoises or turtles enough;\nbut now and then one was as much as I could put to any use: I had timber\nenough to have built a fleet of ships; I had grapes enough to have made\nwine, or to have cured into raisins, to have loaded that fleet when they\nhad been built.\nBut all I could make use of, was all that was valuable: I had enough to\neat, and to supply my wants, and what was all the rest to me? If I\nkilled more flesh than I could eat, the dog must eat it, or the vermin;\nif I sowed more corn than I could eat, it must be spoiled. The trees\nthat I cut down were lying to rot on the ground, I could make no more\nuse of them, than for fuel; and that I had no occasion for, but to\ndress my food.\nIn a word, the nature and experience of things dictated to me upon just\nreflection, that all the good things of this world are no farther good\nto us, than as they are for our use: and that whatever we may heap up\nindeed to give to others, we enjoy as much as we can use, and no more.\nThe most covetous griping miser in the world would have been cured of\nthe vice of covetousness, if he had been in my case; for I possessed\ninfinitely more than I knew what to do with. I had no room for desire,\nexcept it was of things which I had not, and they were but trifles,\nthough indeed of great use to me. I had, as I hinted before, a parcel\nof money, as well gold as silver, about thirty-six pounds sterling;\nalas! there the nasty, sorry, useless stuff lay; I had no manner of\nbusiness for it; and I often thought with myself, that I would have\ngiven an handful of it for a gross of tobacco-pipes, or for an hand-mill\nto grind my corn; nay, I would have given it all for six-penny-worth of\nturnip and carrot seed out of England, or for an handful of peas and\nbeans, and a bottle of ink: as it was, I had not the least advantage by\nit, or benefit from it; but there it lay in a drawer, and grew mouldy\nwith the damp of the cave, in the wet season; and if I had had the\ndrawer full of diamonds, it had been the same case; and they had been of\nno manner of value to me, because of no use.\nI had now brought my state of life to be much easier in itself than it\nwas at first, and much easier to my mind, as well as to my body. I\nfrequently sat down to my meat with thankfulness, and admired the hand\nof God\u2019s providence, which had thus spread my table in the wilderness: I\nlearnt to look more upon the bright side of my condition, and less upon\nthe dark side; and to consider what I enjoyed, rather than what I\nwanted; and this gave me sometimes such secret comforts, that I cannot\nexpress them; and which I take notice of here, to put those discontented\npeople in mind of it, who cannot enjoy comfortably what God hath given\nthem, because they see and covet something that he has not given them:\nall our discontents about what we want, appeared to me to spring from\nthe want of thankfulness for what we have.\nAnother reflection was of great use to me, and doubtless would be so to\nany one that should fall into such distress as mine was; and this was,\nto compare my present condition with what I at first expected it should\nbe; nay, with what it would certainly have been, if the good providence\nof God had not wonderfully ordered the ship to be cast up near to the\nshore, where I not only could come at her, but could bring what I got\nout of her to the shore for my relief and comfort; without which I had\nwanted tools to work, weapons for defence, or gunpowder and shot for\ngetting my food.\nI spent whole hours, I may say whole days, in representing to myself in\nthe most lively colours, how I must have acted, if I had got nothing out\nof the ship; how I could not have so much as got any food, except fish\nand turtles; and that, as it was long before I found any of them, I must\nhave perished first: that I should have lived, if I had not perished,\nlike a mere savage: that if I had killed a goat or a fowl by any\ncontrivance, I had no way to flay or open them, or part the flesh from\nthe skin and the bowels, or to cut it up; but must gnaw it with my\nteeth, and pull it with my claws, like a beast.\nThese reflections made me very sensible of the goodness of Providence to\nme, and very thankful for my present condition, with all its hardships\nand misfortunes: and this part also I cannot but recommend to the\nreflection of those who are apt in their misery to say, Is any\naffliction like mine? Let them consider, how much worse the cases of\nsome people are, and what their case might have been, if Providence had\nthought fit.\nI had another reflection which assisted me also to comfort my mind with\nhopes; and this was, comparing my present condition with what I had\ndeserved, and had therefore reason to expect from the hand of\nProvidence. I had lived a dreadful life, perfectly destitute of the\nknowledge and fear of God: I had been well instructed by father and\nmother; neither had they been wanting to me in their early endeavours to\ninfuse a religious awe of God into my mind, a sense of my duty, and of\nwhat the nature and end of my being required of me. But, alas! falling\nearly into the seafaring life, which of all the lives is the most\ndestitute of the fear of God, though his terrors are always before them;\nI say, falling early into the seafaring life, and into seafaring\ncompany, all that little sense of religion which I had entertained, was\nlaughed out of me by my messmates; by an hardened despising of dangers,\nand the views of death, which grew habitual to me; by my long absence\nfrom all manner of opportunities to converse with any thing but what was\nlike myself, or to hear any thing of what was good, or tended\ntowards it.\nSo void was I of every thing that was good, or of the least sense of\nwhat I was, or was to be, that in the greatest deliverance I enjoyed,\nsuch as my escape from Sallee, my being taken up by the Portuguese\nmaster of the ship, my being planted so well in Brasil, my receiving the\ncargo from England, and the like, I never once had the words, Thank God,\nso much as on my mind, or in my mouth; nor in the greatest distress had\nI so much thought as to pray to him; nor so much as to say, Lord, have\nmercy upon me! no, not to mention the name of God, unless it was to\nswear by, and blaspheme it.\nI had terrible reflections upon my mind for many months, as I have\nalready observed, on the account of my wicked and hardened life past;\nand when I looked about me, and considered what particular providences\nhad attended me, since my coming into this place, and how God had dealt\nbountifully with me; had not only punished me less than my iniquity\ndeserved, but had so plentifully provided for me; this gave me great\nhopes that my repentance was accepted, and that God had yet mercies in\nstore for me.\nWith these reflections I worked my mind up, not only to resignation to\nthe will of God in the present disposition of my circumstances, but even\nto a sincere thankfulness of my condition; and that I, who was yet a\nliving man, ought not to complain, seeing I had not the due punishment\nof my sins; that I enjoyed so many mercies, which I had no reason to\nhave expected in that place, that I ought never more to repine at my\ncondition, but to rejoice, and to give daily thanks, for that daily\nbread, which nothing but a cloud of wonders could have brought: that I\nought to consider I had been fed even by a miracle, even as great as\nthat of feeding Elijah by ravens; nay, by a long series of miracles; and\nthat I could hardly have named a place in the uninhabited part of the\nworld, where I could have been cast more to my advantage: a place, where\nas I had no society, which was my affliction on one hand, so I found no\nravenous beasts, no furious wolves or tigers, to threaten my life; no\nvenomous creatures, or poisonous, which I might have fed on to my hurt;\nno savages to murder and devour me.\nIn a word, as my life was a life of sorrow one way, so it was a life of\nmercy another; and I wanted nothing to make it a life of comfort, but to\nbe able to make my sense of God\u2019s goodness to me, and care over me in\nthis condition, be my daily consolation; and after I made a just\nimprovement of these things, I went away, and was no more sad.\nI had now been here so long, that many things which I brought on shore\nfor my help, were either quite gone, or very much wasted, and\nnear spent.\nMy ink, as I observed, had been gone for some time, all but a very\nlittle, which I eked out with water a little and a little, till it was\nso pale it scarce left any appearance of black upon the paper: as long\nas it lasted, I made use of it to minute down the days of the month on\nwhich any remarkable thing happened to me; and first, by casting up\ntimes past, I remember that there was a strange concurrence of days, in\nthe various providences which befel me, and which, if I had been\nsuperstitiously inclined to observe days as fatal or fortunate, I might\nhave had reason to have looked upon with a great deal of curiosity.\nFirst, I had observed, that the same day that I broke away from my\nfather and my friends, and ran away to Hull in order to go to sea, the\nsame day afterwards I was taken by the Sallee man of war, and made\na slave.\nThe same day of the year that I escaped out of the wreck of the ship in\nYarmouth Roads, that same day of the year afterwards I made my escape\nfrom Sallee in the boat.\nThe same day of the year I was born on, viz. the 20th of September, the\nsame day I had my life so miraculously saved twenty-six years after,\nwhen I was cast on shore in this island; so that my wicked life, and\nsolitary life, both began on a day.\nThe next thing to my ink\u2019s being wasted, was that of my bread, I mean\nthe biscuit which I brought out of the ship. This I had husbanded to the\nlast degree, allowing myself but one cake of bread a day, for above a\nyear: and yet I was quite without bread for a year before I got any corn\nof my own: and great reason I had to be thankful that I had any at all,\nthe getting it being, as has been already observed, next to miraculous.\nMy clothes too began to decay mightily: as to linen, I had none a good\nwhile, except some chequered shirts which I found in the chests of the\nother seamen, and which I carefully preserved, because many times I\ncould bear no other clothes on but a shirt; and it was a very great help\nto me, that I had among all the men\u2019s clothes of the ship almost three\ndozen of shirts. There were also several thick watch-coats of the\nseamen, which were left behind, but they were too hot to wear; and\nthough it is true, that the weather was so violent hot, that there was\nno need of clothes, yet I could not go quite naked; no, though I had\nbeen inclined to it, which I was not; nor could I abide the thought of\nit, though I was all alone.\nOne reason why I could not go quite naked, was, I could not bear the\nheat of the sun so well when quite naked as with some clothes on; nay,\nthe very heat frequently blistered my skin; whereas, with a shirt on,\nthe air itself made some motion, and whistling under the shirt, was\ntwofold cooler than without it: no more could I ever bring myself to go\nout in the heat of the sun without a cap or a hat; the heat of the sun\nbeating with such violence as it does in that place, would give me the\nheadach presently, by darting so directly on my head, without a cap or\nhat on, so that I could not bear it; whereas, if I put on my hat, it\nwould presently go away.\nUpon these views I began to consider about putting the few rags I had,\nwhich I called clothes, into some order; I had worn out all the\nwaistcoats I had, and my business was now to try if I could not make\njackets out of the great watch-coats which I had by me, and with such\nother materials as I had; so I set to work a-tailoring, or rather indeed\na-botching; for I made most piteous work of it. However, I made shift to\nmake two or three waistcoats, which I hoped would serve me a great\nwhile; as for breeches or drawers, I made but very sorry shift indeed,\ntill afterwards.\nI have mentioned that I saved the skins of all the creatures that I\nkilled, I mean four-footed ones; and I had hung them up stretched out\nwith sticks in the sun; by which means some of them were so dry and\nhard, that they were fit for little; but others, it seems, were very\nuseful. The first thing I made of these was a great cap for my head,\nwith the hair on the outside to shoot off the rain; and this I performed\nso well, that after this I made a suit of clothes wholly of those skins;\nthat is to say, a waistcoat and breeches open at the knees, and both\nloose; for they were rather wanted to keep me cool, than to keep me\nwarm. I must not omit to acknowledge, that they were wretchedly made;\nfor if I was a bad carpenter, I was a worse tailor; however, they were\nsuch as I made a very good shift with; and when I was abroad, if it\nhappened to rain, the hair of the waistcoat and cap being outmost, I was\nkept very dry.\nAfter this I spent a deal of time and pains to make me an umbrella: I\nwas indeed in great want of one, and had a great mind to make one: I had\nseen them made in the Brasils, where they are very useful in the great\nheats which are there; and I felt the heats every jot as great here, and\ngreater too, being nearer the equinox; besides, as I was obliged to be\nmuch abroad, it was a most useful thing to me, as well for the rains as\nthe heats. I took a world of pains at it, and was a great while before I\ncould make any thing likely to hold; nay, after I thought I had hit the\nway, I spoiled two or three before I made one to my mind; but at last I\nmade one that answered indifferently well. The main difficulty I found\nwas to make it to let down: I could make it to spread; but if it did not\nlet down too, and draw in, it would not be portable for me any way, but\njust over my head, which would not do. However, at last, as I said, I\nmade one to answer; I covered it with skins, the hair upwards, so that\nit cast off the rain like a penthouse, and kept off the sun so\neffectually, that I could walk out in the hottest of the weather, with\ngreater advantage than I could before in the coolest; and when I had no\nneed of it, I could close it, and carry it under my arm.\nThus I lived mighty comfortably, my mind being entirely composed by\nresigning to the will of God, and throwing myself wholly upon the\ndisposal of his providence: this made my life better than sociable; for\nwhen I began to regret the want of conversation, I would ask myself,\nwhether thus conversing mutually with my own thoughts, and, as I hope I\nmay say, with even my Maker, by ejaculations and petitions, was not\nbetter than the utmost enjoyment of human society in the world?\nI cannot say, that after this, for five years, any extraordinary thing\nhappened to me; but I lived on in the same course, in the same posture\nand place, just as before. The chief thing I was employed in, besides my\nyearly labour of planting my barley and rice, and curing my raisins, of\nboth which I always kept up just enough to have sufficient stock of the\nyear\u2019s provisions beforehand; I say, besides this yearly labour, and my\ndaily labour of going out with my gun, I had one labour to make me a\ncanoe, which at last I finished: so that by digging a canal to it, six\nfeet wide, and four feet deep, I brought it into the creek, almost half\na mile. As for the first, that was so vastly big, as I made it without\nconsidering beforehand, as I ought to do, how I should be able to launch\nit; so never being able to bring it to the water, or bring the water to\nit, I was obliged to let it lie where it was, as a memorandum to teach\nme to be wiser next time. Indeed the next time, though I could not get a\ntree proper for it, and was in a place where I could not get the water\nto it, at any less distance than, as I have said, of near half a mile;\nyet as I saw it was practicable at last, I never gave it over; and\nthough I was near two years about it, yet I never grudged my labour, in\nhopes of having a boat to go off to sea at last.\nHowever, though my little periagua was finished, yet the size of it was\nnot at all answerable to the design which I had in view, when I made the\nfirst; I mean of venturing over to the Terra Firma, where it was above\nforty miles broad; accordingly, the smallness of my boat assisted to put\nan end to that design, and now I thought no more of it. But as I had a\nboat, my next design was to make a tour round the island: for as I had\nbeen on the other side, in one place, crossing, as I have already\ndescribed it, over the land, so the discoveries I made in that journey\nmade me very eager to see the other parts of the coast; and now I had a\nboat, I thought of nothing but sailing round the island.\nFor this purpose, and that I might do every thing with discretion and\nconsideration, I fitted up a little mast to my boat, and made a sail to\nit out of some of the pieces of the ship\u2019s sails, which lay in store,\nand of which I had a great store by me.\nHaving fitted my mast and sail, and tried the boat, I found she would\nsail very well. Then I made little lockers and boxes at each end of my\nboat, to put provisions, necessaries, and ammunition, &c. into, to be\nkept dry, either from rain, or the spray of the sea; and a little long\nhollow place I cut in the inside of the boat, where I could lay my gun,\nmaking a flap to hang down over it to keep it dry.\nI fixed my umbrella also in a step at the stern, like a mast, to stand\nover my head, and keep the heat of the sun off me, like an awning; and\nthus I every now and then took a little voyage upon the sea, but never\nwent far out, nor far from the little creek; but at last, being eager to\nview the circumference of my little kingdom, I resolved upon my tour,\nand accordingly I victualled my ship for the voyage; putting in two\ndozen of my loaves (cakes I should rather call them) of barley-bread; an\nearthen pot full of parched rice, a food I ate a great deal of, a little\nbottle of rum, half a goat, and powder with shot for killing more, and\ntwo large watch-coats, of those which, as I mentioned before, I had\nsaved out of the seamen\u2019s chests; these I took, one to lie upon, and the\nother to cover me in the night.\nIt was the 6th of November, in the sixth year of my reign, or my\ncaptivity, which you please, that I set out on this voyage, and I found\nit much longer than I expected; for though the island itself was not\nvery large, yet when I came to the east side of it, I found a great\nledge of rocks lie out about two leagues into the sea, some above water,\nsome under it; and beyond this a shoal of sand, lying dry half a league\nmore; so that I was obliged to go a great way out to sea to double\nthat point.\nWhen I first discovered them, I was going to give over my enterprise,\nand come back again, not knowing how far it might oblige me to go out to\nsea, and above all, doubting how I should get back again; so I came to\nan anchor, for I had made me a kind of an anchor with a piece of broken\ngrappling which I got out of the ship.\nHaving secured my boat, I took my gun, and went on shore, climbing up an\nhill, which seemed to over-look that point, where I saw the full extent\nof it, and resolved to venture.\nIn my viewing the sea from that hill where I stood, I perceived a\nstrong, and indeed a most furious current, which ran to the east, even\ncame close to the point; and I took the more notice of it, because I\nsaw there might be some danger, that when I came into it, I might be\ncarried out to sea by the strength of it, and not be able to make the\nisland again. And indeed, had I not gotten first upon this hill, I\nbelieve it would have been so; for there was the same current on the\nother side of the island, only that it set off at a farther distance;\nand I saw there was a strong eddy under the shore; so I had nothing to\ndo but to get out of the first current, and I should presently be in\nan eddy.\nI lay here, however, two days; because the wind blowing pretty fresh (at\nE.S.E. and that being just contrary to the said current) made a great\nbreach of the sea upon the point; so that it was not safe for me to keep\ntoo close to the shore for the breach, nor to go too far off because of\nthe stream.\nThe third day in the morning, the wind having abated over-night, the sea\nwas calm, and I ventured; but I am a warning-piece again to all rash and\nignorant pilots; for no sooner was I come to the point, when I was not\nmy boat\u2019s length from the shore, but I found myself in a great depth of\nwater, and a current like a sluice of a mill. It carried my boat along\nwith it with such violence, that all I could do could not keep her so\nmuch as on the edge of it: but I found it hurried me farther and farther\nout from the eddy, which was on the left hand. There was no wind\nstirring to help me, and all that I could do with my paddles signified\nnothing; and now I began to give myself over for lost; for, as the\ncurrent was on both sides the island, I knew in a few leagues distance\nthey must join again, and then I was irrecoverably gone; nor did I see\nany possibility of avoiding it; so that I had no prospect before me but\nof perishing; not by the sea, for that was calm enough, but of starving\nfor hunger. I had indeed found a tortoise on the shore, as big almost as\nI could lift, and had tossed it into the boat; and I had a great jar of\nfresh water, that is to say, one of my earthen pots; but what was all\nthis to being driven into the vast ocean, where, to be sure, there was\nno shore, no main land or island, for a thousand leagues at least?\nAnd now I saw how easy it was for the providence of God to make the most\nmiserable condition that mankind could be in, worse. Now I looked back\nupon my desolate solitary island, as the most pleasant place in the\nworld, and all the happiness my heart could wish for, was to be there\nagain: I stretched out my hands to it with eager wishes; \u201cO happy\ndesert!\u201d said I, \u201cI shall never see thee more! O miserable creature!\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cwhither am I going!\u201d Then I reproached myself with my\nunthankful temper, and how I had repined at my solitary condition; and\nnow what would I give to be on shore there again? Thus we never see the\ntrue state of our condition, till it is illustrated to us by its\ncontraries; nor know how to value what we enjoy, but by the want of it.\nIt is scarce possible to imagine the consternation I was now in, being\ndriven from my beloved island (for so it appeared to me now to be) into\nthe wide ocean, almost two leagues, and in the utmost despair of ever\nrecovering it again: however, I worked hard, till indeed my strength was\nalmost exhausted; and kept my boat as much to the northward, that is,\ntowards the side of the current which the eddy lay on, as possibly I\ncould; when about noon, as the sun passed the meridian, I thought I felt\na little breeze of wind in my face, springing up from the S.S.E. This\ncheered my heart a little, and especially when in about half an hour\nmore it blew a pretty small gentle gale. By this time I was gotten at a\nfrightful distance from the island; and, had the least cloud or hazy\nweather intervened, I had been undone another way too; for I had no\ncompass on board, and should never have known how to have steered\ntowards the island, if I had but once lost sight of it; but the weather\ncontinuing clear, I applied myself to get up my mast again, and spread\nmy sail, standing away to the north as much as possible, to get out of\nthe current.\nJust as I had set my mast and sail, and the boat began to stretch away,\nI saw even by the clearness of the water, some alteration of the current\nwas near; where the current was so strong, the water was foul; but\nperceiving the water clear, I found the current abate, and presently I\nfound to the east, at about half a mile, a breach of the sea upon some\nrocks: these rocks I found caused the current to part again; and as the\nmain stress of it ran away more southerly, leaving the rocks to the\nnorth-east, so the other returned by the repulse of the rock, and made a\nstrong eddy, which ran back again to the north-west with a very\nsharp stream.\nThey who know what it is to have a reprieve brought to them upon the\nladder, or to be rescued from thieves just going to murder them, or who\nhave been in such like extremities, may guess what my present surprise\nof joy was, and how gladly I put my boat into the stream of this eddy;\nand the wind also freshening, how gladly I spread my sail to it, running\ncheerfully before the wind, and with a strong tide or eddy under foot.\nThis eddy carried me about a league in my way back again directly\ntowards the island, but about two leagues more towards the northward\nthan the current lay, which carried me away at first; so that when I\ncame near the island, I found myself open to the northern shore of it,\nthat is to say, the other end of the island, opposite to that which I\nwent out from.\nWhen I had made something more than a league of way by the help of this\ncurrent or eddy, I found it was spent, and served me no farther. However\nI found, that being between the two great currents, viz. that on the\nsouth side which had hurried me away, and that on the north which lay\nabout two leagues on the other side; I say, between these two, in the\nwest of the island, I found the water at least still, and running no\nway; and having still a breeze of wind fair for me, I kept on steering\ndirectly for the island, though not making such fresh way as I\ndid before.\nAbout four o\u2019clock in the evening, being then within about a league of\nthe island, I found the point of the rocks which occasioned this\ndistance stretching out as is described before, to the southward, and\ncasting off the current more southwardly, had of course made another\neddy to the north; and this I found very strong, but directly setting\nthe way my course lay, which was due west, but almost full north.\nHowever, having a fresh gale, I stretched across this eddy slanting\nnorth-west, and in about an hour came within about a mile of the shore,\nwhere, it being smooth water, I soon got to land.\nWhen I was on shore, I fell on my knees, and gave God thanks for my\ndeliverance, resolving to lay aside all thoughts of my deliverance by my\nboat; and refreshing myself with such things as I had, I brought my boat\nclose to the shore, in a little cove that I had espied under some trees,\nand laid me down to sleep, being quite spent with the labour and fatigue\nof the voyage.\nI was now at a great loss which way to get home with my boat; I had run\nso much hazard, and knew too much the case to think of attempting it by\nthe way I went out; and what might be at the other side (I mean the west\nside) I knew not, nor had I any mind to run any more ventures; so I only\nresolved in the morning to make my way westward along the shore, and to\nsee if there was no creek where I might lay up my frigate in safety, so\nas to have her again if I wanted her. In about three miles, or\nthereabouts, coasting the shore, I came to a very good inlet, or bay,\nabout a mile over, which narrowed till it came to a very little rivulet,\nor brook, where I found a convenient harbour for my boat, and where she\nlay as if she had been in a little dock made on purpose for her: here I\nput in, and having stowed my boat very safe, I went on shore to look\nabout me, and see where I was.\nI soon found I had but a little passed by the place where I had been\nbefore when I travelled on foot to that shore; so taking nothing out of\nmy boat but my gun and my umbrella, for it was exceeding hot, I began my\nmarch: the way was comfortable enough after such a voyage as I had been\nupon, and I reached my old bower in the evening, where I found every\nthing standing as I left it; for I always kept it in good order, being,\nas I said before, my country-house.\nI got over the fence, and laid me down in the shade to rest my limbs,\nfor I was very weary, and fell asleep: but judge you if you can, that\nread my story, what a surprise I must be in when I was awaked out of my\nsleep by a voice calling me by my name several times, \u201cRobin, Robin,\nRobin Crusoe, poor Robin Crusoe! Where are you, Robin Crusoe? Where are\nyou? Where have you been?\u201d\nI was so dead asleep at first, being fatigued with rowing, or paddling,\nas it is called, the first part of the day, and walking the latter part,\nthat I did not awake thoroughly; and dozing between sleeping and waking,\nthought I dreamed that somebody spoke to me: but as the voice continued\nto repeat Robin Crusoe, Robin Crusoe; at last I began to awake more\nperfectly, and was at first dreadfully frighted, and started up in the\nutmost consternation: but no sooner were my eyes open, but I saw my Pol\nsitting on the top of the hedge, and immediately knew that this was he\nthat spoke to me; for just in such bemoaning language I had used to talk\nto him, and teach him; and he had learnt it so perfectly, that he would\nsit upon my finger, and lay his bill close to my face, and cry, \u201cPoor\nRobin Crusoe, where are you? Where have you been? How came you here?\u201d\nand such things as I had taught him.\nHowever, even though I knew it was the parrot, and that indeed it could\nbe nobody else, it was a good while before I could compose myself.\nFirst, I was amazed how the creature got thither, and then how he should\njust keep about the place, and no where else: but as I was well\nsatisfied it could be nobody but honest Poll, I got it over; and\nholding out my Hand, and calling him by his Name Poll, the sociable\nCreature came to me, and sat upon my Thumb, as he used to do, and\ncontinued talking to me, Poor Robin Crusoe, and how did I come here? and\nwhere had I been? just as if he had been overjoyed to see me again; and\nso I carried him Home along with me.\nI had now had enough of rambling to sea for some time, and had enough to\ndo for many days to sit still, and reflect upon the danger I had been\nin: I would have been very glad to have had my boat again on my side of\nthe island; but I knew not how it was practicable to get it about as to\nthe east side of the island, which I had gone round; I knew well enough\nthere was no venturing that way; my very heart would shrink, and my very\nblood run chill but to think of it: and as to the other side of the\nisland, I did not know how it might be there; but supposing the current\nran with the same force against the shore at the east as it passed by it\non the other, I might run the same risk of being driven down the stream,\nand carried by the island, as I had been before, of being carried away\nfrom it; so with these thoughts I contented my self to be without any\nboat, though it had been the product of so many months labour to make\nit, and of so many more to get it unto the sea.\nIn this government of my temper, I remained near a year, lived a very\nsedate retired life, as you may well suppose; and my thoughts being very\nmuch composed as to my condition, and fully comforted in resigning my\nself to the dispositions of Providence, I thought I lived really very\nhappily in all things, except that of society.\nI improved my self in this time in all the mechanic exercises which my\nnecessities put me upon applying my self to, and I believe could, upon\noccasion, make a very good carpenter, especially considering how few\ntools I had.\nBesides this, I arrived at an unexpected perfection in my earthen ware,\nand contrived well enough to make them with a wheel, which I found\ninfinitely easier and better; because I made things round and shapeable,\nwhich before were filthy things indeed to look on. But I think I was\nnever more vain of my own performance, or more joyful for any thing I\nfound out, than for my being able to make a tobacco-pipe. And tho it was\na very ugly clumsy thing, when it was done, and only burnt red like\nother earthen ware, yet as it was hard and firm, and would draw the\nsmoke, I was exceedingly comforted with it, for I had been always used\nto smoke, and there were pipes in the ship, but I forgot them at first,\nnot knowing that there was tobacco in the island; and afterwards, when I\nsearched the ship again, I could not come at any pipes at all.\nIn my wicker ware also I improved much, and made abundance of necessary\nbaskets, as well as my invention shewed me, tho not very handsome, yet\nthey were such as were very handy and convenient for my laying things up\nin, or fetching things home in. For example, if I killed a goat abroad,\nI could hang it up in a tree, flea it, and dress it, and cut it in\npieces, and bring it home in a basket, and the like by a turtle, I could\ncut it up, take out the eggs, and a piece or two of the flesh, which was\nenough for me, and bring them home in a basket, and leave the rest\nbehind me. Also large deep baskets were my receivers for my corn, which\nI always rubbed out as soon as it was dry, and cured, and kept it in\ngreat baskets.\nI began now to perceive my powder abated considerably, and this was a\nwant which it was impossible for me to supply, and I began seriously to\nconsider what I must do when I should have no more powder; that is to\nsay, how I should do to kill any goat. I had, as is observed in the\nthird year of my being here, kept a young kid, and bred her up tame, and\nI was in hope of getting a he-goat, but I could not by any means bring\nit to pass, \u2019till my kid grew an old goat; and I could never find in my\nheart to kill her, till she dyed at last of mere age.\nBut being now in the eleventh year of my residence, and, as I have\nsaid, my ammunition growing low, I set myself to study some art to trap\nand snare the goats, to see whether I could not catch some of them\nalive; and particularly I wanted a she-goat great with young.\nTo this purpose I made snares to hamper them; and believe they were more\nthan once taken in them; but my tackle was not good, for I had no wire,\nand always found them broken, and my bait devoured.\nAt length I resolved to try a pitfall; so I dug several large pits in\nthe earth, in places where I had observed the goats used to feed, and\nover these pits I placed hurdles of my own making too, with a great\nweight upon them; and several times I put ears of barley, and dry rice,\nwithout setting the trap; and I could easily perceive, that the goats\nhad gone in, and eaten up the corn, that I could see the mark of their\nfeet: at length, I set three traps in one night, and going the next\nmorning, I found them all standing, and yet the bait eaten and gone.\nThis was very discouraging; however, I altered my trap; and, not to\ntrouble you with particulars, going one morning to see my traps, I found\nin one of them a large old he-goat; and, in one of the other, three\nkids, a male and two females.\nAs to the old one, I knew not what to do with him; he was so fierce I\ndurst not go into the pit to him; that is to say, to go about to bring\nhim away alive, which was what I wanted; I could have killed him, but\nthat was not my business, nor would it answer my end; so I e\u2019en let him\nout, and he ran away as if he had been frightened out of his wits; but I\ndid not then know what I afterwards learnt, that hunger would tame a\nlion: if I had let him stay there three or four days without food, and\nthen have carried him some water to drink, and then a little corn, he\nwould have been as tame as one of the kids; for they are mighty\nsagacious tractable creatures, where they are well used.\nHowever, for the present I let him go, knowing no better at that time;\nthen I went to the three kids; and, taking them one by one, I tied them\nwith strings together; and with some difficulty brought them all home.\nIt was a good while before they would feed; but throwing them some sweet\ncorn, it tempted them, and they began to be tame: and now I found, that\nif I expected to supply myself with goat\u2019s flesh, when I had no powder\nor shot left, breeding some up tame was my only way, when perhaps I\nmight have them about my house like a flock of sheep.\nBut then it presently occurred to me, that I must keep the tame from the\nwild, or else they would always run wild when they grew up; and the only\nway for this was to have some enclosed piece of ground, well fenced\neither with hedge or pale, to keep them up so effectually, that those\nwithin might not break out, or those without break in.\nThis was a great undertaking for one pair of hands; yet as I saw there\nwas an absolute necessity of doing it, my first piece of work was to\nfind out a proper piece of ground; viz. where there was likely to be\nherbage for them to eat, water for them to drink, and cover to keep them\nfrom the sun.\nThose who understand such enclosures, will think I had very little\ncontrivance, when I pitched upon a place very proper for all these,\nbeing a plain open piece of meadow-land or savanna (as our people call\nit in the western colonies) which had two or three little drills of\nfresh water in it, and at one end was very woody; I say they will smile\nat my forecast, when I shall tell them I began my enclosing of this\npiece of ground in such a manner, that my hedge or pale must have been\nat least two miles about; nor was the madness of it so great as to the\ncompass; for if it was ten miles about, I was like to have time enough\nto do it in; but I did not consider; that my goats would be as wild in\nso much compass, as if they had had the whole island; and I should have\nso much room to chase them in, that I should never catch them.\nMy hedge was begun and carried on, I believe, about fifty yards, when\nthis thought occurred to me; so I presently stopped short, and for the\nfirst beginning I resolved to enclose a piece of about one hundred and\nfifty yards in length, and one hundred yards in breadth, which as it\nwould maintain as many as I should have in any reasonable time, so, as\nmy flock increased, I could add more ground to my enclosure.\nThis was acting with some prudence, and I went to work with courage. I\nwas about three months hedging in the first piece; and, till I had done\nit, I tethered the three kids in the best part of it, and used them to\nfeed as near me as possible, to make them familiar; and very often I\nwould go and carry them some ears of barley, or a handful of rice, and\nfeed them out of my hand; so that after my enclosure was finished, and I\nlet them loose, they would follow me up and down, bleating after me for\na handful of corn.\nThis answered my end, and in about a year and a half I had a flock of\nabout twelve goats, kids and all; and in two years more I had\nthree-and-forty, besides several that I took and killed for my food; and\nafter that I enclosed five several pieces of ground to feed them in,\nwith little pens to drive them into, to take them as I wanted them; and\ngates out of one piece of ground into another.\nBut this was not all; for now I not only had goat\u2019s flesh to feed on\nwhen I pleased, but milk too, a thing which indeed in my beginning I did\nnot so much as think of, and which, when it came into my thoughts, was\nreally an agreeable surprise; for now I set up my dairy, and had\nsometimes a gallon or two of milk in a day. And as nature, who gives\nsupplies of food to every creature, dictates even naturally how to make\nuse of it; so I, that never milked a cow, much less a goat, or saw\nbutter or cheese made, very readily and handily, though after a great\nmany essays and miscarriages, made me both butter and cheese at last,\nand never wanted it afterwards.\nHow mercifully can our great Creator treat his creatures, even in those\nconditions in which they seemed to be overwhelmed in destruction! How\ncan he sweeten the bitterest providences, and give us cause to praise\nhim for dungeons and prisons! What a table was here spread for me in a\nwilderness, where I saw nothing at first but to perish for hunger!\nIt would have made a stoic smile, to have seen me and my little family\nsit down to dinner: there was my majesty, the prince and lord of the\nwhole island; I had the lives of all my subjects at absolute command; I\ncould hang, draw, give life and liberty, and take it away, and no rebels\namong all my subjects.\nThen to see how like a king I dined too, all alone, attended by my\nservants! Pol, as if he had been my favourite, as the only person\npermitted to talk to me; my dog, which was now grown very old and crazy,\nand found no species to multiply his kind upon, sat always at my right\nhand; and two cats, one on one side the table, and one on the other,\nexpecting now and then a bit from my hand, as a mark of special favour.\nBut these were not the two cats which I brought on shore at first; for\nthey were both of them dead, and had been interred near my habitation by\nmy own hands; but one of them having multiplied by I know not what kind\nof creature, these were two which I preserved tame, whereas the rest ran\nwild into the woods, and became indeed troublesome to me at last; for\nthey would often come into my house, and plunder me too, till at last I\nwas obliged to shoot them, and did kill a great many: at length they\nleft me. With this attendance, and in this plentiful manner, I lived;\nneither could I be said to want any thing but society, and of that, in\nsome time after this, I was like to have too much.\nI was something impatient, as I had observed, to have the use of my\nboat, though very loath to run any more hazard; and therefore sometimes\nI sat contriving ways to get her about the island, and at other times I\nsat myself down contented enough without her. But I had a strange\nuneasiness in my mind to go down to the point of the island, where, as I\nhave said in my last ramble, I went up the hill to see how the shore\nlay, and how the current set, that I might see what I had to do. This\ninclination increased upon me every day, and at length I resolved to\ntravel thither by land, and following the edge of the shore, I did so;\nbut had any one in England been to meet such a man as I was, it must\neither have frighted them, or raised a great deal of laughter; and as I\nfrequently stood still to look at myself, I could not but smile at the\nnotion of my travelling through Yorkshire with such an equipage, and in\nsuch a dress. Be pleased to take a sketch of my figure as follows:\nI had a great high shapeless cap, made of goat\u2019s skin, with a flap\nhanging down behind, as well to keep the sun from me, as to shoot the\nrain off from running into my neck; nothing being so hurtful in these\nclimates, as the rain upon the flesh under the clothes.\nI had a short jacket of goat\u2019s skin, the skirts coming down to about the\nmiddle of my thighs; and a pair of open-kneed breeches of the same; the\nbreeches were made of a skin of an old he-goat, whose hair hung down\nsuch a length on either side, that, like pantaloons, it reached to the\nmiddle of my legs. Stockings and shoes I had none; but I had made me a\npair of something, I scarce knew what to call them, like buskins, to\nflap over my legs, and lace on either side like spatterdashes; but of a\nmost barbarous shape, as indeed were all the rest of my clothes.\nI had on a broad belt of goat\u2019s skin dried, which I drew together with\ntwo thongs of the same, instead of buckles; and in a kind of a frog on\neither side of this, instead of a sword and dagger, hung a little saw\nand a hatchet; one on one side, one on the other: I had another belt not\nso broad, and fastened in the same manner, which hung over my shoulder;\nand at the end of it, under my left arm, hung two pouches, both made of\ngoat\u2019s skin too; in one of which hung my powder, in the other my shot:\nat my back I carried my basket, on my shoulder my gun, and over my head\na great clumsy ugly goat\u2019s skin umbrella; but which, after all, was the\nmost necessary thing I had about me, next to my gun. As for my face, the\ncolour of it was really not so Mulatto-like as one might expect from a\nman not at all careful of it, and living within nine or ten degrees of\nthe equinox. My beard I had once suffered to grow till it was about a\nquarter of a yard long; but as I had both scissars and razors\nsufficient, I had cut it pretty short, except what grew on my upper lip,\nwhich I had trimmed into a large pair of Mahometan whiskers, such as I\nhad seen worn by some Turks whom I saw at Sallee; for the Moors did not\nwear such, though the Turks did: of these mustachios, or whiskers, I\nwill not say they were long enough to hang my hat upon them; but they\nwere of length and shape monstrous enough, and such as in England would\nhave passed for frightful.\nBut all this is by the by; for as to my figure, I had so few to observe\nme, that it was of no manner of consequence; so I say no more to that\npart. In this kind of figure I went my new journey, and was out five or\nsix days. I travelled first along the sea shore, directly to the place\nwhere I first brought my boat to an anchor, to get up upon the rocks;\nand, having no boat now to take care of, I went over the land a nearer\nway, to the same height that I was upon before; when looking forward to\nthe point of the rock which lay out, and which I was to double with my\nboat, as I said above, I was surprised to see the sea all smooth and\nquiet; no rippling, no motion, no current, any more there than in\nother places.\nI was at a strange loss to understand this, and resolved to spend some\ntime in the observing of it, to see if nothing from the sets of the tide\nhad occasioned it: but I was presently convinced how it was; viz. that\nthe tide of ebb setting from the west, and joining with the current of\nwaters from some great river on the shore, must be the occasion of this\ncurrent, and that according as the wind blew more forcible from the\nwest, or from the north, this current came near, or went farther from\nthe shore; for, waiting thereabouts till evening, I went up to the rock\nagain, and then the tide of the ebb being made, I plainly saw the\ncurrent again as before, only that it ran farther off, being near half a\nleague from the shore; whereas, in my case, it set close upon the shore,\nand hurried me in my canoe along with it, which at another time it would\nnot have done.\nThis observation convinced me, that I had nothing to do but to observe\nthe ebbing and the flowing of the tide, and I might very easily bring my\nboat about the island again: but when I began to think of putting it in\npractice, I had such a terror upon my spirits at the remembrance of the\ndanger I had been in, that I could not think of it again with any\npatience; but on the contrary, I took up another resolution, which was\nmore safe, though more laborious; and this was, that I would build, or\nrather make me another periagua, or canoe; and so have one for one side\nof the island, and one for the other.\nYou are to understand, that now I had, as I may call it, two plantations\nin the island; one my little fortification or tent, with the wall about\nit under the rock, with the cave behind me, which by this time I had\nenlarged into several apartments or caves, one within another. One of\nthese, which was the driest and largest, and had a door out beyond my\nwall or fortification, that is to say, beyond where my wall joined to\nthe rock, was all filled up with large earthen pots, of which I have\ngiven an account, and with fourteen or fifteen great baskets, which\nwould hold five or six bushels each, where I laid up my stores of\nprovision, especially my corn, some in the ear cut off short from the\nstraw, and the other rubbed out with my hands.\nAs for my wall, made as before, with long stakes or piles, those piles\ngrew all like trees, and were by this time grown so big, and spread so\nvery much, that there was not the least appearance, to any one\u2019s view,\nof any habitation behind them.\nNear this dwelling of mine, but a little farther within the land, and\nupon lower ground, lay my two pieces of corn-ground; which I kept duly\ncultivated and sowed, and which duly yielded me their harvest in its\nseason: and whenever I had occasion for more corn, I had more land\nadjoining as fit as that.\nBesides this I had my country-seat, and I had now a tolerable plantation\nthere also; for first, I had my little bower, as I called it, which I\nkept in repair; that is to say, I kept the hedge which circled it in\nconstantly fitted up to its usual height, the ladder standing always in\nthe inside; I kept the trees, which at first were no more than my\nstakes, but were now grown very firm and tall; I kept them always so\ncut, that they might spread and grow thick and wild, and make the more\nagreeable shade, which they did effectually to my mind. In the middle of\nthis I had my tent always standing, being a piece of a sail spread over\npoles set up for that purpose, and which never wanted any repair or\nrenewing; and under this I had made me a squab or couch, with the skins\nof the creatures I had killed, and with other soft things, and a blanket\nlaid on them, such as belonged to our sea-bedding, which I had saved,\nand a great watch-coat to cover me; and here, whenever I had occasion to\nbe absent from my chief seat, I took up my country habitation.\nAdjoining to this I had my enclosures for my cattle, that is to say, my\ngoats: and as I had taken an inconceivable deal of pains to fence and\nenclose this ground, I was so uneasy to see it kept entire, lest the\ngoats should break through, that I never left off, till with infinite\nlabour I had stuck the outside of the hedge so full of small stakes, and\nso near to one another, that it was rather a pale than a hedge, and\nthere was scarce room to put a hand through between them, which\nafterwards, when those stakes grew, as they all did in the next rainy\nseason, made the enclosure strong, like a wall, indeed stronger than\nany wall.\nThis will testify for me that I was not idle, and that I spared no pains\nto bring to pass whatever appeared necessary for my comfortable support;\nfor I considered the keeping up a breed of tame creatures thus at my\nhand, would be a living magazine of flesh, milk, butter, and cheese, for\nme as long as I lived in the place, if it were to be forty years; and\nthat keeping them in my reach, depended entirely upon my perfecting my\nenclosures to such a degree, that I might be sure of keeping them\ntogether; which by this method indeed I so effectually secured, that\nwhen these little stakes began to grow, I had planted them so very\nthick, I was forced to pull some of them up again.\nIn this place also I had my grapes growing, which I principally depended\non for my winter store of raisins, and which I never failed to preserve\nvery carefully, as the best and most agreeable dainty of my whole diet;\nand indeed they were not agreeable only, but physical, wholesome,\nnourishing, and refreshing to the last degree.\nAs this was also about half way between my other habitation and the\nplace where I had laid up my boat, I generally staid and lay here in my\nway thither; for I used frequently to visit my boat, and I kept all\nthings about or belonging to her in very good order: sometimes I went\nout in her to divert myself, but no more hazardous voyages would I go,\nnor scarce ever above a stone\u2019s cast or two from the shore, I was so\napprehensive of being hurried out of my knowledge again by the currents,\nor winds, or any other accident. But now I come to a new scene of\nmy life.\nIt happened one day about noon, going towards my boat, I was exceedingly\nsurprised with the print of a man\u2019s naked foot on the shore, which was\nvery plain to be seen in the sand: I stood like one thunder-struck, or\nas if I had seen an apparition; I listened, I looked round me, I could\nhear nothing, nor see any thing; I went up to a rising ground to look\nfarther: I went up the shore, and down the shore, but it was all one, I\ncould see no other impression but that one; I went to it again to see if\nthere were any more, and to observe if it might not be my fancy; but\nthere was no room for that, for there was exactly the very print of a\nfoot, toes, heel, and every part of a foot; how it came thither I knew\nnot, nor could in the least imagine. But after innumerable fluttering\nthoughts, like a man perfectly confused, and out of myself, I came home\nto my mortification, not feeling, as we say, the ground I went on, but\nterrified to the last degree, looking behind me at every two or three\nsteps, mistaking every bush and tree, and fancying every stump at a\ndistance to be a man; nor is it possible to describe how many various\nshapes an affrighted imagination represented things to me in; how many\nwild ideas were formed every moment in my fancy, and what strange\nunaccountable whimsies came into my thoughts by the way.\nWhen I came to my castle, for so I think I called it ever after this, I\nfled into it like one pursued; whether I went over by the ladder, as\nfirst contrived, or went in at the hole in the rock, which I called a\ndoor, I cannot remember; for never frighted hare fled to cover, or fox\nto earth, with more terror of mind than I to this retreat.\nI had no sleep that night: the farther I was from the occasion of my\nfright, the greater my apprehensions were; which is something contrary\nto the nature of such things, and especially to the usual practice of\nall creatures in fear. But I was so embarrassed with my own frightful\nideas of the thing, that I formed nothing but dismal imaginations to\nmyself, even though I was now a great way off it. Sometimes I fancied it\nmust be the devil; and reason joined in with me upon this supposition.\nFor how should any other thing in human shape come into the place? Where\nwas the vessel that brought them? What marks were there of any other\nfootsteps? And how was it possible a man should come there? But then to\nthink that Satan should take human shape upon him in such a place where\nthere could be no manner of occasion for it, but to leave the print of\nhis foot behind him, and that even for no purpose too (for he could not\nbe sure I should see it:) this was an amazement the other way: I\nconsidered that the devil might have found out abundance of other ways\nto have terrified me, than this of the single print of a foot; that as I\nlived quite on the other side of the island, he would never have been so\nsimple to leave a mark in a place where it was ten thousand to one\nwhether I should ever see it or not, and in the sand too, which the\nfirst surge of the sea upon an high wind would have defaced entirely.\nAll this seemed inconsistent with the thing itself, and with all notions\nwe usually entertain of the subtlety of the devil.\nAbundance of such things as these assisted to argue me out of all\napprehensions of its being the devil. And I presently concluded that it\nmust be some more dangerous creature; viz. that it must be some of the\nsavages of the main land over-against me, who had wandered out to sea in\ntheir canoes, and, either driven by the currents, or by contrary winds,\nhad made the island, and had been on shore, but were gone away again to\nsea, being as loath, perhaps, to have staid in this desolate island, as\nI would have been to have had them.\nWhile these reflections were rolling upon my mind, I was very thankful\nin my thought, that I was so happy as not to be thereabouts at that\ntime, or that they did not see my boat, by which they would have\nconcluded, that some inhabitants had been in the place, and perhaps have\nsearched farther for me. Then terrible thoughts racked my imaginations\nabout their having found my boat, and that there were people here; and\nthat if so, I should certainly have them come again in greater numbers,\nand devour me; that if it should happen so that they should not find me,\nyet they would find my enclosure, destroy all my corn, carry away all\nmy flock of tame goats, and I should perish at last for mere want.\nThus my fear banished all my religious hope; all that former confidence\nin God, which was founded upon such wonderful experience as I had had of\nhis goodness, now vanished; as if he that had fed me by miracle\nhitherto, could not preserve by his power the provision which he had\nmade for me by his goodness. I reproached myself with my uneasiness,\nthat I would not sow any more corn one year, than would just serve me\ntill the next season, as if no accident could intervene, to prevent my\nenjoying the crop that was upon the ground. And this I thought so just a\nreproof, that I resolved for the future to have two or three years corn\nbeforehand, so that, whatever might come, I might not perish for want\nof bread.\nHow strange a chequer-work of Providence is the life of man! And by what\nsecret differing springs are the affections hurried about, as differing\ncircumstances present! To-day we love what to-morrow we hate; to-day we\nseek what to-morrow we shun; to-day we desire what to-morrow we fear;\nnay, even tremble at the apprehensions of. This was exemplified in me at\nthis time in the most lively manner imaginable; for I, whose only\naffliction was, that I seemed banished from human society, that I was\nalone, circumscribed by the boundless ocean, cut off from mankind, and\ncondemned to what I call a silent life; that I was as one whom Heaven\nthought not worthy to be numbered among the living, or to appear among\nthe rest of his creatures; that to have seen one of my own species,\nwould have seemed to me a raising me from death to life, and the\ngreatest blessing that Heaven itself, next to the supreme blessing of\nsalvation, could bestow; I say, that I should now tremble at the very\napprehensions of seeing a man, and was ready to sink into the ground, at\nbut the shadow, or silent appearance of a man\u2019s having set his foot on\nthe island.\nSuch is the uneven state of human life; and it afforded me a great many\ncurious speculations afterwards, when I had a little recovered my first\nsurprise: I considered that this was the station of life the infinitely\nwise and good providence of God had determined for me; that as I could\nnot foresee what the ends of divine wisdom might be in all this, so I\nwas not to dispute his sovereignty, who, as I was his creature, had an\nundoubted right by creation to govern and dispose of me absolutely as he\nthought fit; and who, as I was a creature who had offended him, had\nlikewise a judicial right to condemn me to what punishment he thought\nfit; and that it was my part to submit to bear his indignation, because\nI had sinned against him.\nI then reflected, that God, who was not only righteous, but omnipotent,\nas he had thought fit thus to punish and afflict me, so he was able to\ndeliver me; that if he did not think fit to do it, it was my\nunquestioned duty to resign myself absolutely and entirely to his will;\nand, on the other hand, it was my duty also to hope in him, pray to him,\nand quietly to attend the dictates and directions of his daily\nprovidence.\nThese thoughts took me up many hours, days, nay, I may say, weeks and\nmonths; and one particular effect of my cogitations on this occasion I\ncannot omit; viz. one morning early, lying in my bed, and filled with\nthoughts about my danger from the appearance of savages, I found it\ndiscomposed me very much; upon which those words of the Scripture came\ninto my thoughts, \u201cCall upon me in the day of trouble, and I will\ndeliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.\u201d\nUpon this, rising cheerfully out of my bed, my heart was not only\ncomforted, but I was guided and encouraged to pray earnestly to God for\ndeliverance. When I had done praying, I took up my Bible, and opening it\nto read, the first words that presented to me were, \u201cWait on the Lord,\nand be of good cheer, and he shall strengthen thy heart: Wait, I say, on\nthe Lord.\u201d It is impossible to express the comfort this gave me; and in\nreturn, I thankfully laid down the book, and was no more sad, at least,\nnot on that occasion.\nIn the middle of these cogitations, apprehensions, and reflections, it\ncame into my thoughts one day, that all this might be a mere chimera of\nmy own, and that this foot might be the print of my own foot, when I\ncame on shore from my boat. This cheered me up a little too, and I began\nto persuade myself it was all a delusion; that it was nothing else but\nmy own foot; and why might not I come that way from the boat, as well as\nI was going that way to the boat? Again, I considered also, that I could\nby no means tell for certain where I had trod, and where I had not; and\nthat if at last this was only the print of my own foot, I had played the\npart of those fools, who strive to make stories of spectres and\napparitions, and then are themselves frighted at them more than any\nbody else.\nNow I began to take courage, and to peep abroad again; for I had not\nstirred out of my castle for three days and nights, so that I began to\nstarve for provision; for I had little or nothing within doors, but some\nbarley-cakes and water. Then I knew that my goats wanted to be milked\ntoo, which usually was my evening diversion; and the poor creatures were\nin great pain and inconvenience for want of it; and indeed it almost\nspoiled some of them, and almost dried up their milk.\nHeartening myself therefore with the belief, that this was nothing but\nthe print of one of my own feet (and so I might be truly said to start\nat my own shadow), I began to go abroad again, and went to my\ncountry-house to milk my flock: but to see with what fear I went\nforward, how often I looked behind me, how I was ready, every now and\nthen, to lay down my basket, and run for my life; it would have made any\none have thought I was haunted with an evil conscience, or that I had\nbeen lately most terribly frighted; and so indeed I had.\nHowever, as I went down thus two or three days, and having seen nothing,\nI began to be a little bolder, and to think there was really nothing in\nit but my own imagination; but I could not persuade myself fully of\nthis, till I should go down to the shore again, and see this print of a\nfoot, and measure it by my own, and see if there was any similitude or\nfitness, that I might be assured it was my own foot. But when I came to\nthe place first, it appeared evidently to me, that when I laid up my\nboat, I could not possibly be on shore any where thereabouts. Secondly,\nwhen I came to measure the mark with my own foot, I found my foot not so\nlarge by a great deal. Both these things filled my head with new\nimaginations, and gave me the vapours again to the highest degree; so\nthat I shook with cold, like one in an ague, and I went home again,\nfilled with the belief, that some man or men had been on shore there;\nor, in short, that the island was inhabited, and I might be surprised\nbefore I was aware; and what course to take for my security, I knew not.\nO what ridiculous resolutions men take, when possessed with fear! It\ndeprives them of the use of those means which reason offers for their\nrelief. The first thing I proposed to myself was, to throw down my\nenclosures, and turn all my tame cattle wild into the woods, that the\nenemy might not find them, and then frequent the island in prospect of\nthe same, or the like booty; then to the simple thing of digging up my\ntwo corn fields, that they might not find such a grain there, and still\nto be prompted to frequent the island; then to demolish my bower and\ntent, that they might not see any vestiges of my habitation, and be\nprompted to look farther, in order to find out the persons inhabiting.\nThese were the subjects of the first night\u2019s cogitation, after I was\ncome home again, while the apprehensions which had so over-run my mind\nwere fresh upon me, and my head was full of vapours, as above. Thus fear\nof danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger itself, when\napparent to the eyes; and, we find the burden of anxiety greater by\nmuch than the evil which we are anxious about; but, which was worse than\nall this, I had not that relief in this trouble from the resignation I\nused to practise, that I hoped to have. I looked, I thought, like Saul,\nwho complained not only that the Philistines were upon him, but that God\nhad forsaken him; for I did not now take due ways to compose my mind, by\ncrying to God in my distress, and resting upon his providence, as I had\ndone before, for my defence and deliverance; which if I had done, I had,\nat least, been more cheerfully supported under this new surprise, and\nperhaps carried through it with more resolution.\nThis confusion of my thoughts kept me waking all night; but in the\nmorning I fell asleep, and having by the amusement of my mind been, as\nit were, tired, and my spirits exhausted, I slept very soundly, and I\nawaked much better composed than I had ever been before. And now I began\nto think sedately; and, upon the utmost debate with myself, I concluded,\nthat this island, which was so exceeding pleasant, fruitful, and no\nfarther from the main land than as I had seen, was not so entirely\nabandoned as I might imagine: that although there were no stated\ninhabitants who lived on the spot; yet that there might sometimes come\nboats off from the shore, who either with design, or perhaps never but\nwhen they were driven by cross winds, might come to this place.\nThat I had lived here fifteen years now, and had not met with the\nleast-shadow or figure of any people before; and that if at any time\nthey should be driven here, it was probable they went away again as soon\nas ever they could, seeing they had never thought fit to fix there upon\nany occasion, to this time.\nThat the most I could suggest any danger from, was, from any such casual\naccidental landing of straggling people from the main, who, as it was\nlikely, if they were driven hither, were here against their wills; so\nthey made no stay here, but went off again with all possible speed,\nseldom staying one night on shore, lest they should not have the help of\nthe tides and daylight back again; and that therefore I had nothing to\ndo but to consider of some safe retreat, in case I should see any\nsavages land upon the spot.\nNow I began sorely to repent that I had dug my cave so large, as to\nbring a door through again, which door, as I said, came out beyond where\nmy fortification joined to the rock. Upon maturely considering this,\ntherefore, I resolved to draw me a second fortification, in the manner\nof a semicircle, at a distance from my wall, just where I had planted a\ndouble row of trees about twelve years before, of which I made mention:\nthese trees having been planted so thick before, there wanted but a few\npiles to be driven between them, that they should be thicker and\nstronger, and my wall would be soon finished.\nSo that I had now a double wall, and my outer wall was thickened with\npieces of timber, old cables, and every thing I could think of to make\nit strong; having in it seven little holes, about as big as I might put\nmy arm out at. In the inside of this I thickened my wall to about ten\nfeet thick, continually bringing earth out of my cave, and laying it at\nthe foot of the wall, and walking upon it; and through the seven holes I\ncontrived to plant the muskets, of which I took notice that I got seven\non shore out of the ship; these, I say, I planted like my cannon, and\nfitted them into frames that held them like a carriage, that so I could\nfire all the seven guns in two minutes time. This wall I was many a\nweary month in finishing, and yet never thought myself safe till it\nwas done.\nWhen this was done, I stuck all the ground without my wall, for a great\nway every way, as full with stakes or sticks of the osier-like wood,\nwhich I found so apt to grow, as they could well stand; insomuch that I\nbelieve I might set in near twenty thousand of them, leaving a pretty\nlarge space between them and my wall, that I might have room to see an\nenemy, and they might have no shelter from the young trees, if they\nattempted to approach my outer wall.\nThus in two years time I had a thick grove; and in five or six years\ntime I had a wood before my dwelling, grown so monstrous thick and\nstrong, that it was indeed perfectly impassable; and no man of what kind\nsoever would ever imagine that there was any thing beyond it, much less\nan habitation: as for the way I proposed myself to go in and out (for I\nleft no avenue), it was by setting two ladders; one to a part of the\nrock which was low, and then broke in, and left room to place another\nladder upon that; so when the two ladders were taken down, no man living\ncould come down to me without mischiefing himself; and if they had come\ndown, they were still on the outside of my outer wall.\nThus I took all the measures human prudence could suggest for my own\npreservation; and it will be seen at length, that they were not\naltogether without just reason; though I foresaw nothing at that time\nmore than my mere fear suggested.\nWhile this was doing, I was not altogether careless of my other affairs;\nfor I had a great concern upon me for my little herd of goats; they were\nnot only a present supply to me upon every occasion, and began to be\nsufficient for me, without the expense of powder and shot, but also\nabated the fatigue of my hunting after the wild ones; and I was loath to\nlose the advantage of them, and to have them all to nurse up over again.\nTo this purpose, after long consideration, I could think but of two ways\nto preserve them: one was to find another convenient place to dig a cave\nunder ground, and to drive them into it every night; and the other was\nto enclose two or three little bits of land, remote from one another,\nand as much concealed as I could, where I might keep about half a dozen\nyoung goats in each place; so that if any disaster happened to the flock\nin general, I might be able to raise them again with little trouble and\ntime: and this, though it would require a great deal of time and labour,\nI thought was the most rational design.\nAccordingly I spent some time, to find out the most retired parts of the\nisland; and I pitched upon one, which was as private indeed as my heart\ncould wish; for it was a little damp piece of ground in the middle of\nthe hollow and thick woods, where, as is observed, I almost lost myself\nonce before, endeavouring to come back that way from the eastern part of\nthe island: here I found a clear piece of land near three acres, so\nsurrounded with woods, that it was almost an enclosure by nature; at\nleast it did not want near so much labour to make it so, as the other\npieces of ground I had worked so hard at.\nI immediately went to work with this piece of ground, and in less than a\nmonth\u2019s time I had so fenced it round, that my flock or herd, call it\nwhich you please, which were not so wild now as at first they might be\nsupposed to be, were well enough secured in it. So without any farther\ndelay, I removed ten she-goats and two he-goats to this piece; and when\nthere, I continued to perfect the fence, till I had made it as secure as\nthe other, which, however, I did at more leisure, and it took me up more\ntime by a great deal.\nAll this labour I was at the expense of, purely from my apprehensions on\nthe account of the print of a man\u2019s foot which I had seen; for as yet, I\nnever saw any human creature come near the island, and I had now lived\ntwo years under these uneasinesses, which indeed made my life much less\ncomfortable than it was before; as may well be imagined, by any who know\nwhat it is to live in the constant snare of the fear of man; and this I\nmust observe with grief too, that the discomposure of my mind had too\ngreat impressions also upon the religious part of my thoughts; for the\ndread and terror of falling into the hands of savages and cannibals lay\nso upon my spirits, that I seldom found myself in a due temper for\napplication to my Maker; at least, not with the sedate calmness and\nresignation of soul which I was wont to do. I rather prayed to God as\nunder great affliction and pressure of mind, surrounded with danger, and\nin expectation every night of being murdered and devoured before the\nmorning; and I must testify from my experience, that a temper of peace,\nthankfulness, love, and affection, is much more the proper frame for\nprayer than that of terror and discomposure; and that under the dread of\nmischief impending, a man is no more fit for a comforting performance of\nthe duty of praying to God, than he is for repentance on a sick bed; for\nthese discomposures affect the mind as the others do the body; and the\ndiscomposure of the mind must necessarily be as great a disability as\nthat of the body, and much greater; praying to God being properly an act\nof the mind, not of the body.\nBut to go on: after I had thus secured one part of my little living\nstock, I went about the whole island, searching for another private\nplace, to make such another deposit; when wandering more to the west\npoint of the island than I had ever done yet, and looking out to sea, I\nthought I saw a boat upon the sea at a great distance; I had found a\nperspective glass or two in one of the seamen\u2019s chests, which I saved\nout of our ship; but I had it not about me, and this was so remote, that\nI could not tell what to make of it, though I looked at it till my eyes\nwere not able to look any longer: whether it was a boat, or not, I do\nnot know; but as I descended from the hill, I could see no more of it,\nso I gave it over; only I resolved to go no more without a perspective\nglass in my pocket.\nWhen I was come down the hill, to the end of the island, where indeed I\nhad never been before, I was presently convinced, that the seeing the\nprint of a man\u2019s foot, was not such a strange thing in the island as I\nimagined; and, but that it was a special providence that I was cast upon\nthe side of the island where the savages never came, I should easily\nhave known, that nothing was more frequent than for the canoes from the\nmain, when, they happened to be a little too far out at sea, to shoot\nover to that side of the island for harbour; likewise, as they often\nmet, and fought in their canoes, the victors, having taken any\nprisoners, would bring them over to this shore, where, according to\ntheir dreadful customs, being all cannibals, they would kill and eat\nthem: of which hereafter.\nWhen I was come down the hill to the shore, as I said above, being the\nS.W. point of the island, I was perfectly confounded and amazed; nor is\nit possible for me to express the horror of my mind, at seeing the shore\nspread with skulls, hands, feet, and other bones of human bodies; and\nparticularly I observed a place where there had been a fire made, and a\ncircle dug in the earth, like a cock-pit, where it is supposed the\nsavage wretches had sat down to their inhuman feastings upon the bodies\nof their fellow-creatures.\nI was so astonished with the sight of these things, that I entertained\nno notions of any danger to myself from it, for a long while; all my\napprehensions were buried in the thoughts of such a pitch of inhuman,\nhellish brutality, and the horror of the degeneracy of human nature;\nwhich, though I had heard of often, yet I never had so near a view of\nbefore: in short, I turned away my face from the horrid spectacle; my\nstomach grew sick, and I was just at the point of fainting, when nature\ndischarged the disorder from my stomach, and, having vomited with an\nuncommon violence, I was a little relieved, but could not bear to stay\nin the place a moment; so I got me up the hill again with all the speed\nI could, and walked on towards my own habitation.\nWhen I came a little out of that part of the island, I stood still a\nwhile as amazed; and then recovering myself, I looked up with the utmost\naffection of my soul, and, with a flood of tears in my eyes, gave God\nthanks, that had cast my first lot in a part of the world where I was\ndistinguished from such dreadful creatures as these; and that though I\nhad esteemed my present condition very miserable, had yet given me so\nmany comforts in it, that I had still more to give thanks for than to\ncomplain of; and this above all, that I had, even in this miserable\ncondition, been comforted with the knowledge of himself, and the hope of\nhis blessing, which was a felicity more than sufficiently equivalent to\nall the misery which I had suffered, or could suffer.\nIn this frame of thankfulness I went home to my castle, and began to be\nmuch easier now, as to the safety of my circumstances, than ever I was\nbefore; for I observed, that these wretches never came to this island in\nsearch of what they could get; perhaps not seeking, not wanting, or not\nexpecting, any thing here, and having often, no doubt, been up in the\ncovered woody part of it, without finding any thing to their purpose. I\nknew I had been here now almost eighteen years, and never saw the least\nfootsteps of a human creature there before; and might be here eighteen\nmore as entirely concealed as I was now, if I did not discover myself to\nthem, which I had no manner of occasion to do, it being my only business\nto keep myself entirely concealed where I was, unless I found a better\nsort of creatures than cannibals to make myself known to.\nYet I entertained such an abhorrence of the savage wretches that I have\nbeen speaking of, and of the wretched inhuman custom of their devouring\nand eating one another up, that I continued pensive and sad, and kept\nclose within my own circle for almost two years after this: when I say\nmy own circle, I mean by it my three plantations, viz. my castle, my\ncountry-seat, which I called my bower, and my enclosure in the woods;\nnor did I look after this for any other use than as an enclosure for my\ngoats; for the aversion which nature gave me to these hellish wretches\nwas such, that I was as fearful of seeing them as of seeing, the devil\nhimself; nor did I so much as go to look after my boat in all this time,\nbut began rather to think of making me another; for I could not think\nof ever making any more attempts to bring the other boat round the\nisland to me, lest I should meet with some of those creatures at sea, in\nwhich, if I had happened to have fallen into their hands, I knew what\nwould have been my lot.\nTime, however, and the satisfaction I had, that I was in no danger of\nbeing discovered by these people, began to wear off my uneasiness about\nthem; and I began to live just in the same composed manner as before;\nonly with this difference, that I used more caution, and kept my eyes\nmore about me than I did before, lest I should happen to be seen by any\nof them; and particularly, I was more cautious of firing my gun, lest\nany of them on the island should happen to hear it; and it was therefore\na very good providence to me, that I had furnished myself with a tame\nbreed of goats, that I had no need to hunt any more about the woods, or\nshoot at them; and if I did catch any more of them after this, it was by\ntraps and snares, as I had done before; so that for two years after\nthis, I believe I never fired my gun once off, though I never went out\nwithout it; and, which was more, as I had saved three pistols out of the\nship, I always carried them out with me, or at least two of them,\nsticking them in my goat-skin belt: I likewise furbished up one of the\ngreat cutlasses that I had out of the ship, and made me a belt to put it\nin also; so that I was now a most formidable fellow to look at when I\nwent abroad, if you add to the former description of myself, the\nparticular of two pistols, and a great broad-sword, hanging at my side\nin a belt, but without a scabbard.\nThings going on thus, as I have said, for some time, I seemed, excepting\nthese cautions, to be reduced to my former calm sedate way of living.\nAll these things tended to shew me more and more how far my condition\nwas from being miserable, compared to some others; nay, to many other\nparticulars of life, which it might have pleased God to have made my\nlot. It put me upon reflecting, how little repining there would be\namong mankind, at any condition of life, if people would rather compare\ntheir condition with those that are worse, in order to be thankful, than\nbe always comparing them with those which are better, to assist their\nmurmurings and complainings.\nAs in my present condition there were not really many things which I\nwanted, so indeed I thought that the frights I had been in about these\nsavage wretches, and the concern I had been in for my own preservation,\nhad taken off the edge of my invention for my own conveniences, and I\nhad dropped a good design, which I had once bent my thoughts upon; and\nthat was, to try if I could not make some of my barley into malt, and\nthen try to brew myself some beer: this was really a whimsical thought,\nand I reproved myself often for the simplicity of it; for I presently\nsaw there would be the want of several things necessary to the making my\nbeer, that it would be impossible for me to supply; as, first, casks to\npreserve it in, which was a thing that, as I have observed already, I\ncould never compass; no, though I spent not many days, but weeks, nay\nmonths, in attempting it, but to no purpose. In the next place, I had no\nhops to make it keep, no yeast to make it work, no copper or kettle to\nmake it boil; and yet, had not all these things intervened, I mean the\nfrights and terrors I was in about the savages, I had undertaken it, and\nperhaps brought it to pass too; for I seldom gave any thing over without\naccomplishing it, when I once had it in my head enough to begin it.\nBut my invention now ran quite another way; for night and day I could\nthink of nothing, but how I might destroy some of these monsters in\ntheir cruel bloody entertainment, and, if possible, save the victim they\nshould bring hither to destroy. It would take up a larger volume than\nthis whole work is intended to be, to set down all the contrivances I\nhatched, or rather brooded upon in my thoughts, for the destroying these\ncreatures, or at least frightening them, so as to prevent their coming\nhither any more; but all was abortive; nothing could be possible to take\neffect, unless I was to be there to do it myself; and what could one man\ndo among them, when perhaps there might be twenty or thirty of them\ntogether, with their darts, or their bows and arrows, with which they\ncould shoot as true to a mark as I could with my gun?\nSometimes I contrived to dig a hole under the place where they made\ntheir fire, and put in five or six pounds of gunpowder, which, when they\nkindled their fire, would consequently take fire, and blow up all that\nwas near it; but, as in the first place I should be very loath to waste\nso much powder upon them, my store being now within the quantity of a\nbarrel, so neither could I be sure of its going off at any certain time,\nwhen it might surprise them; and, at best, that it would do little more\nthan just blow the fire about their ears, and fright them, but not\nsufficient to make them forsake the place; so I laid it aside, and then\nproposed, that I would place myself in ambush in some convenient place,\nwith my three guns all double-loaded, and in the middle of their bloody\nceremony let fly at them, when I should be sure to kill or wound perhaps\ntwo or three at every shoot; and then falling in upon them with my three\npistols, and my sword, I made no doubt but that, if there were twenty, I\nshould kill them all: this fancy pleased my thoughts for some weeks, and\nI was so full of it that I often dreamed of it; and sometimes, that I\nwas just going to let fly at them in my sleep.\nI went so far with it in my indignation, that I employed myself several\ndays to find out proper places to put myself in ambuscade, as I said, to\nwatch for them; and I went frequently to the place itself, which was now\ngrown more familiar to me; and especially while my mind was thus filled\nwith thoughts of revenge, and of a bloody putting twenty or thirty of\nthem to the sword, as I may call it; but the horror I had at the place,\nand at the signals of the barbarous wretches devouring one another,\nabated my malice.\nWell, at length I found a place in the side of the hill, where I was\nsatisfied I might securely wait till I saw any of the boats coming, and\nmight then, even before they would be ready to come on shore, convey\nmyself unseen into thickets of trees, in one of which there was an\nhollow large enough to conceal me entirely; and where I might sit, and\nobserve all their bloody doings, and take my full aim at their heads,\nwhen they were so close together, as that it would be next to impossible\nthat I should miss my shoot, or that I could fail wounding three or four\nof them at the first shoot.\nIn this place then I resolved to fix my design; and accordingly I\nprepared two muskets and my ordinary fowling-piece. The two muskets I\nloaded with a brace of slugs each, and four or five smaller bullets,\nabout the size of pistol-bullets, and the fowling-piece I loaded with\nnear an handful of swan-shot, of the largest size; I also loaded my\npistols with about four bullets each: and in this posture, well provided\nwith ammunition for a second and third charge, I prepared myself for my\nexpedition.\nAfter I had thus laid the scheme for my design, and in my imagination\nput it in practice, I continually made my tour every morning up to the\ntop of the hill, which was from my castle, as I called it, about three\nmiles or more, to see if I could observe any boats upon the sea, coming\nnear the island, or standing over towards it; but I began to tire of\nthis hard duty, after I had for two or three months constantly kept my\nwatch; but came always back without any discovery, there having not in\nall that time been the least appearance, not only on or near the shore,\nbut not on the whole ocean, so far as my eyes or glasses could reach\nevery way.\nAs long as I kept up my daily tour to the hill to look out, so long also\nI kept up the vigour of my design, and my spirits seemed to be all the\nwhile in a suitable frame for so outrageous an execution, as the killing\ntwenty or thirty naked savages for an offence, which I had not at all\nentered into a discussion of in my thoughts, any further than my\npassions were at first fired by the horror I conceived at the unnatural\ncustom of the people of that country, who, it seems, had been suffered\nby Providence, in his wise disposition of the world, to have no other\nguide than that of their own abominable and vitiated passions; and\nconsequently were left, and perhaps had been for some ages, to act such\nhorrid things, and receive such dreadful customs, as nothing but nature,\nentirely abandoned of Heaven, and actuated by some hellish degeneracy,\ncould have run them into; but now, when, as I have said, I began to be\nweary of the fruitless excursion which I had made so long, and so far,\nevery morning in vain; so my opinion of the action itself began to\nalter, and I began, with cooler and calmer thoughts, to consider what it\nwas I was going to engage in; what authority or call I had to pretend to\nbe judge and executioner upon these men as criminals, whom Heaven had\nthought fit for so many ages to suffer, unpunished, to go on, and to be,\nas it were, the executioners of his judgments upon one another; also,\nhow far these people were offenders against me, and what right I had to\nengage in the quarrel of that blood, which they shed promiscuously one\nupon another. I debated this very often with myself thus: How do I know\nwhat God himself judges in this particular case? It is certain these\npeople do not commit this as a crime; it is not against their own\nconsciences reproving, or their light reproaching them. They do not know\nit to be an offence, and then commit it in defiance of divine justice,\nas we do in almost all the sins we commit. They think it no more a crime\nto kill a captive taken in war, than we do to kill an ox; nor to eat\nhuman flesh, than we do to eat mutton.\nWhen I had considered this a little, it followed necessarily, that I was\ncertainly in the wrong in it; that these people were not murderers in\nthe sense that I had before condemned them in my thoughts, any more than\nthose Christians were murderers, who often put to death the prisoners\ntaken in battle; or more frequently, upon many occasions, put whole\ntroops of men to the sword, without giving quarter, though they threw\ndown their arms and submitted.\nIn the next place, it occurred to me, that albeit the usage they gave\none another was thus brutish and inhuman, yet it was really nothing to\nme: these people had done me no injury: that if they attempted me, or I\nsaw it necessary for my immediate preservation to fall upon them,\nsomething might be said for it; but that I was yet out of their power,\nand they had really no knowledge of me, and consequently no design upon\nme; and therefore it could not be just for me to fall upon them: that\nthis would justify the conduct of the Spaniards, in all their\nbarbarities practised in America, where they destroyed millions of these\npeople, who, however they were idolaters and barbarians, and had several\nbloody and barbarous rites in these customs, such as sacrificing human\nbodies to their idols, were yet, as to the Spaniards, very innocent\npeople; and that the rooting them out of the country is spoken of with\nthe utmost abhorrence and detestation, even by the Spaniards themselves,\nat this time, and by all other Christian nations of Europe, as a mere\nbutchery, a bloody and unnatural piece of cruelty, unjustifiable either\nto God or man; and such, as for which the very name of a Spaniard is\nreckoned to be frightful and terrible to all people of humanity, or of\nChristian compassion: as if the kingdom of Spain were particularly\neminent for the product of a race of men, who were without principles of\ntenderness, or the common bowels of pity to the miserable, which is\nreckoned to be a mark of a generous temper in the mind.\nThese considerations really put me to a pause, and to a kind of a full\nstop; and I began by little and little to be off of my design, and to\nconclude I had taken a wrong measure in my resolutions to attack the\nsavages; that it was not my business to meddle with them, unless they\nfirst attacked me, and this it was my business, if possible, to prevent;\nbut that, if I were discovered and attacked, then I knew my duty.\nOn the other hand, I argued with myself that this really was the way not\nto deliver myself, but entirely to ruin and destroy myself; for unless I\nwas sure to kill every one that not only should be on shore at that\ntime, but that should ever come on shore afterwards, if but one of them\nescaped to tell their country-people what had happened, they would come\nover again by thousands to revenge the death of their fellows; and I\nshould only bring upon myself a certain destruction, which at present I\nhad no manner of occasion for.\nUpon the whole, I concluded, that neither in principles nor in policy, I\nought one way or other to concern myself in this affair: that my\nbusiness was, by all possible means to conceal myself from them, and not\nto leave the least signal to them to guess by, that there were any\nliving creatures upon the island, I mean of human shape.\nReligion joined in with this prudential, and I was convinced now many\nways that I was perfectly out of my duty, when I was laying all my\nbloody schemes for the destruction of innocent creatures, I mean\ninnocent as to me; as to the crimes they were guilty of towards one\nanother, I had nothing to do with them; they were national punishments\nto make a just retribution for national offences; and to bring public\njudgments upon those who offend in a public manner, by such ways as best\nplease God.\nThis appeared so clear to me now, that nothing was a greater\nsatisfaction to me, than that I had not been suffered to do a thing\nwhich I now saw so much reason to believe would have been no less a sin\nthan that of wilful murder, if I had committed it; and I gave most\nhumble thanks on my knees to God, that had thus delivered me from\nblood-guiltiness; beseeching him to grant me the protection of his\nProvidence, that I might not fall into the hands of barbarians; or that\nI might not lay my hands upon them, unless I had a more clear call from\nHeaven to do it, in defence of my own life.\nIn this disposition I continued for near a year after this: and so far\nwas I from desiring an occasion for falling upon these wretches, that in\nall that time I never once went up the hill to see whether there were\nany of them in sight, or to know whether any of them had been on shore\nthere, or not; that I might not be tempted to renew any of my\ncontrivances against them, or be provoked, by any advantage which might\npresent itself, to fall upon them; only this I did, I went and removed\nmy boat, which I had on the other side of the island, and carried it\ndown to the east end of the whole island, where I ran it into a little\ncove which I found under some high rocks, and where I knew, by reason of\nthe currents, the savages durst not, at least would not, come with their\nboats upon any account whatsoever.\nWith my boat I carried away every thing that I had left there belonging\nto her, though not necessary for the bare going thither; viz. a mast and\nsail, which I had made for her, and a thing like an anchor, but indeed\nwhich could not be called either anchor or grappling; however, it was\nthe best I could make of its kind. All these I removed, that there might\nnot be the least shadow of any discovery, or any appearance of any boat,\nor of any habitation upon the island.\nBesides this, I kept myself, as I said, more retired than ever, and\nseldom went from my cell, other than upon my constant employment, viz.\nto milk my she-goats, and manage my little flock in the wood, which, as\nit was quite on the other part of the island, was quite out of danger:\nfor certain it is, that these savage people, who sometimes haunted this\nisland, never came with any thoughts of finding any thing here, and\nconsequently never wandered off from the coast; and I doubt not but they\nmight have been several times on shore, after my apprehensions of them\nhad made me cautious, as well as before; and indeed I looked back with\nsome horror upon the thoughts of what my condition would have been, if I\nhad chopped upon them, and been discovered before that, when naked and\nunarmed, except with one gun, and that loaded often only with small\nshot. I walked every where, peeping and peering about the island, to see\nwhat I could get: what a surprise should I have been in, if, when I\ndiscovered the print of a man\u2019s foot, I had instead of that seen fifteen\nor twenty savages, and found them pursuing me, and, by the swiftness of\ntheir running, no possibility of my escaping them!\nThe thoughts of this sometimes sunk my very soul within me, and\ndistressed my mind so much, that I could not soon recover it; to think\nwhat I should have done, and how I not only should not have been able to\nresist them, but even should not have had presence of mind enough to do\nwhat I might have done; much less what now, after so much consideration\nand preparation, I might be able to do. Indeed, after serious thinking\nof these things, I would be very melancholy, and sometimes it would last\na great while; but I resolved it at last all into thankfulness to that\nProvidence which had delivered me from so many unseen dangers, and had\nkept me from those mischiefs, which I could no way have been the agent\nin delivering myself from; because I had not the least notion of any\nsuch thing depending, or the least supposition of its being possible.\nThis renewed a contemplation, which often had come to my thoughts in\nformer time, when first I began to see the merciful dispositions of\nHeaven, in the dangers we run through in this life; how wonderfully we\nare delivered when we know nothing of it: how, when we are in a\nquandary, (as we call it) a doubt or hesitation, whether to go this way,\nor that way, a secret hint shall direct us this way, when we intended to\ngo another way; nay, when sense, our own inclination, and perhaps\nbusiness, has called to go the other way, yet a strange impression upon\nthe mind, from we know not what springs, and by we know not what power,\nshall over-rule us to go this way; and it shall afterwards appear, that\nhad we gone that way which we would have gone, and even to our\nimagination ought to have gone, we should have been ruined and lost;\nupon these, and many like reflections, I afterwards made it a certain\nrule with me, that whenever I found those secret hints, or pressings of\nmy mind, to doing or not doing any thing that presented, or to going\nthis way or that way, I never failed to obey the secret dictate; though\nI knew no other reason for it, than that such a pressure, or such an\nhint, hung upon my mind: I could give many examples of the success of\nthis conduct in the course of my life; but more especially in the latter\npart of my inhabiting this unhappy island; besides many occasions which\nit is very likely I might have taken notice of, if I had seen with the\nsame eyes then that I saw with now: but \u2019tis never too late to be wise;\nand I cannot but advise all considering men, whose lives are attended\nwith such extraordinary incidents as mine, or even though not so\nextraordinary, not to slight such secret intimations of Providence, let\nthem come from what invisible intelligence they will; that I shall not\ndiscuss, and perhaps cannot account for; but certainly they are a proof\nof the converse of spirits, and the secret communication between those\nembodied, and those unembodied; and such a proof as can never be\nwithstood: of which I shall have occasion to give some very remarkable\ninstances, in the remainder of my solitary residence in this\ndismal place.\nI believe the reader of this will not think it strange, if I confess\nthat these anxieties, these constant dangers I lived in, and the concern\nthat was now upon me, put an end to all invention, and to all the\ncontrivances that I had laid for my future accommodations and\nconveniences. I had the care of my safety more now upon my hands than\nthat of my food. I cared not to drive a nail, or chop a stick of wood\nnow, for fear the noise I should make should be heard; much less would I\nfire a gun, for the same reason; and, above all, I was very uneasy at\nmaking any fire, lest the smoke, which is visible at a great distance in\nthe day, should betray me; and for this reason I removed that part of my\nbusiness which required fire, such as burning of pots and pipes, &c.\ninto my new apartment in the wood; where, after I had been some time, I\nfound, to my unspeakable consolation, a mere natural cave in the earth,\nwhich went in a vast way, and where, I dare say, no savage, had he been\nat the mouth of it, would be so hardy as to venture in, nor indeed would\nany man else, but one who, like me, wanted nothing so much as a\nsafe retreat.\nThe mouth of this hollow was at the bottom of a great rock, where, by\nmere accident, (I would say, if I did not see an abundant reason to\nascribe all such things now to Providence,) I was cutting down some\nthick branches of trees to make charcoal; and before I go on, I must\nobserve the reason of my making this charcoal, which was thus:\nI was afraid of making a smoke about my habitation, as I said before;\nand yet I could not live there without baking my bread, cooking my meat,\n&c.; so I contrived to burn some wood here, as I had seen done in\nEngland under turf, till it became chark, or dry coal; and then putting\nthe fire out, I preserved the coal to carry home, and perform the other\nservices, which fire was wanting for at home, without danger or smoke.\nBut this by the by: while I was cutting down some wood here, I perceived\nthat behind a very thick branch of low brushwood, or underwood, there\nwas a kind of hollow place: I was curious to look into it, and getting\nwith difficulty into the mouth of it, I found it was pretty large, that\nis to say, sufficient for me to stand upright in it, and perhaps another\nwith me; but I must confess to you, I made more haste out than I did in,\nwhen, looking further into the place, which was perfectly dark, I saw\ntwo broad shining eyes of some creature, whether devil or man I knew\nnot, which twinkled like two stars, the dim light from the cave\u2019s mouth\nshining directly in and making the reflection.\nHowever, after some pause, I recovered myself, and began to call myself\na thousand fools, and tell myself, that he that was afraid to see the\ndevil, was not fit to live twenty years in an island all alone, and that\nI durst to believe there was nothing in this cave that was more\nfrightful than myself: upon this, plucking up my courage, I took up a\nlarge firebrand, and in I rushed again, with the stick flaming in my\nhand: I had not gone three steps in, but I was almost as much frightened\nas I was before; for I heard a very loud sigh, like that of a man in\nsome pain; and it was followed by a broken noise, as if of words\nhalf-expressed, and then a deep sigh again: I stepped back, and was\nindeed struck with such a surprise, that it put me into a cold sweat;\nand if I had had an hat on my head, I will not answer for it that my\nhair might not have lifted it off. But still plucking up my spirits as\nwell as I could, and encouraging myself a little, with considering that\nthe power and presence of God was every where, and was able to protect\nme; upon this I stepped forward again, and by the light of the\nfirebrand, holding it up a little over my head, I saw lying on the\nground a most monstrous frightful old he-goat, just making his will, as\nwe say, gasping for life, and dying indeed of a mere old age.\nI stirred him a little to see if I could get him out, and he essayed to\nget up, but was not able to raise himself; and I thought with myself, he\nmight even lie there; for if he had frightened me so, he would certainly\nfright, any of the savages, if any of them should be so hardy as to come\nin there, while he had any life in him.\nI was now recovered from my surprise, and began to look round me, when I\nfound the cave was but very small; that is to say, it might be about\ntwelve feet over, but in no manner of shape, either round or square, no\nhands having ever been employed in making it but those of mere nature: I\nobserved also, that there was a place at the farther side of it that\nwent in farther, but so low, that it required me to creep upon my hands\nand knees to get into it, and whither it went I knew not; so having no\ncandle, I gave it over for some time, but resolved to come again the\nnext day, provided with candles and a tinder-box, which I had made of\nthe lock of one of the muskets, with some wildfire in the pan.\nAccordingly, the next day, I came provided with six large candles of my\nown making, for I made very good candles now of goats tallow; and going\ninto this low place, I was obliged to creep upon all fours, as I have\nsaid, almost ten yards; which, by the way, I thought was a venture bold\nenough, considering that I knew not how far it might go, or what was\nbeyond it. When I was got through the streight, I found the roof rose\nhigher up, I believe near twenty feet; but never was such a glorious\nsight seen in the island, I dare say, as it was, to look round the sides\nand roof of this vault or cave. The walls reflected an hundred thousand\nlights to me from my two candles; what it was in the rock, whether\ndiamonds, or any other precious stones, or gold, which I rather supposed\nit to be, I knew not.\nThe place I was in was a most delightful cavity, or grotto, of its kind,\nas could be expected, though perfectly dark; the floor was dry and\nlevel, and had a sort of small loose gravel upon it; so that there was\nno nauseous creature to be seen; neither was there any damp or wet on\nthe sides of the roof: the only difficulty in it was the entrance,\nwhich, however, as it was a place of security, and such a retreat as I\nwanted, I thought that was a convenience; so that I was really rejoiced\nat the discovery, and resolved, without any delay, to bring some of\nthose things which I was most anxious about to this place; particularly,\nI resolved to bring hither my magazine of powder, and all my spare arms,\nviz. two fowling-pieces (for I had three in all) and three muskets; (for\nof them I had eight in all) so I kept at my castle only five, which\nstood ready mounted, like pieces of cannon, on my utmost fence, and\nwere ready also to take out upon any expedition.\nUpon this occasion of removing my ammunition, I was obliged to open the\nbarrel of powder which I took up out of the sea, and which had been wet;\nand I found, that the water had penetrated about three or four inches\ninto the powder on every side, which, caking and growing hard, had\npreserved the inside like a kernel in a shell; so that I had near sixty\npounds of very good powder in the centre of the cask; and this was an\nagreeable discovery to me at that time; so I carried all away thither,\nnever keeping above two or three pounds of powder with me in my castle,\nfor fear of a surprise of any kind; I also carried thither all the lead\nI had left for bullets.\nI fancied myself now like one of the ancient giants, which were said to\nlive in caves and holes in the rocks, where none could come at them; for\nI persuaded myself while I was here, if five hundred savages were to\nhunt me, they could never find me out; or if they did, they would not\nventure to attack me here.\nThe old goat, which I found expiring, died in the mouth of the cave the\nnext day after I made this discovery; and I found it much easier to dig\na great hole there, and throw him in, and cover him with earth, than to\ndrag him out: so I interred him there, to prevent offence to my nose.\nI was now in my twenty-third year of residence in this island, and was\nso naturalized to the place, and to the manner of living, that could I\nhave but enjoyed the certainty that no savages would come to the place\nto disturb me, I could have been content to have capitulated for\nspending the rest of my time there, even to the last moment, till I had\nlaid me down and died, like the old goat, in the cave: I had also\narrived to some little diversions and amusements, which made the time\npass more pleasantly with me a great deal than it did before; as, first,\nI had taught my Pol, as I noted before, to speak; and he did it so\nfamiliarly, and talked so articulately and plain, that it was very\npleasant to me; and he lived with me no less than six-and-twenty years:\nhow long he might live afterwards I knew not; though I know they have a\nnotion in the Brasils, that they live an hundred years; perhaps some of\nmy Polls may be alive there still, calling after poor Robin Crusoe to\nthis day; I wish no Englishman the ill luck to come there and hear them;\nbut if he did, he would certainly believe it was the devil. My dog was a\nvery pleasant and loving companion to me for no less than sixteen years\nof my time, and then died of mere old age; as for my cats, they\nmultiplied, as I have observed, to that degree, that I was obliged to\nshoot several of them at first, to keep them from devouring me, and all\nI had; but at length, when the two old ones I brought with me were gone,\nand after some time continually driving them from me, and letting them\nhave no provision with me, they all ran wild into the woods, except two\nor three favourites, which I kept tame, and whose young, when they had\nany, I always drowned, and these were part of my family: besides these,\nI always kept two or three household kids about me, which I taught to\nfeed out of my hand; and I had also more parrots which talked pretty\nwell, and would all call Robin Crusoe, but none like my first; nor,\nindeed, did I take the pains with any of them that I had done with him:\nI had also several tame sea-fowls, whose names I know not, which I\ncaught upon the shore, and cut their wings; and the little stakes, which\nI had planted before my castle wall, being now grown up to a good thick\ngrove, these fowls all lived among these low trees, and bred there,\nwhich was very agreeable to me; so that, as I said above, I began to be\nvery well contented with the life I led, if it might but have been\nsecured from the dread of savages.\nBut it was otherwise directed; and it might not be amiss for all people\nwho shall meet with my story to make this just observation from it, viz.\nHow frequently, in the course of our lives, the evil, which in itself\nwe seek most to shun, and which, when we are fallen into, is the most\ndreadful to us, is oftentimes the very means or door of our deliverance,\nby which alone we can be raised again from the affliction we are fallen\ninto. I could give many examples of this in the course of my\nunaccountable life; but in nothing was it more particularly remarkable,\nthan in the circumstances of my last years of solitary residence in\nthis island.\nIt was now the month of December, as I said above, in my twenty-third\nyear; and this being the southern solstice, for winter I cannot call it,\nwas the particular time of my harvest, and required my being pretty much\nabroad in the fields; when going out pretty early in the morning, even\nbefore it was thorough daylight, I was surprised with seeing a light of\nsome fire upon the shore, at a distance from me of about two miles,\ntowards the end of the island, where I had observed some savages had\nbeen, as before; but not on the other side; but, to my great affliction,\nit was on my side of the island.\nI was indeed terribly surprised at the sight, and stopped short within\nmy grove, not daring to go out, lest I might be surprised; and yet I had\nno more peace within, from the apprehensions I had, that if these\nsavages, in rambling over the island, should find my corn standing, or\ncut, or any of my works and improvements, they would immediately\nconclude that there were people in the place, and would then never give\nover till they found me out. In this extremity I went back directly to\nmy castle, pulled up the ladder after me, having made all things without\nlook as wild and natural as I could.\nThen I prepared myself within, putting myself in a posture of defence; I\nloaded all my cannon, as I called them, that is to say, my muskets,\nwhich were mounted upon my new fortification, and all my pistols, and\nresolved to defend myself to the last gasp; not forgetting seriously to\nrecommend myself to the divine protection, and earnestly to pray to God\nto deliver me out of the hands of the barbarians; and in this posture I\ncontinued about two hours, but began to be mighty impatient for\nintelligence abroad, for I had no spies to send out.\nAfter sitting awhile longer, and musing what I should do in this case, I\nwas not able to bear sitting in ignorance longer; so setting up my\nladder to the side of the hill, where there was a flat place, as I\nobserved before, and then pulling the ladder up after me, I set it up\nagain, and mounted to the top of the hill; and pulling out my\nperspective glass, which I had taken on purpose, I laid me down flat on\nmy belly on the ground, and began to look for the place. I presently\nfound there were no less than nine naked savages sitting round a small\nfire they had made; not to warm them, for they had no need of that, the\nweather being extreme hot; but, as I supposed, to dress some of their\nbarbarous diet of human flesh which they had brought with them, whether\nalive or dead I could not know.\nThey had two canoes with them, which they had haled up upon the shore;\nand as it was then tide of ebb, they seemed to me to wait the return of\nthe flood to go away again. It is not easy to imagine what confusion\nthis sight put me into, especially seeing them come on my side the\nisland, and so near me too; but when I observed their coming must be\nalways with the current of the ebb, I began afterwards to be more sedate\nin my mind, being satisfied that I might go abroad with safety all the\ntime of tide of flood, if they were not on shore before; and having made\nthis observation, I went abroad about my harvest work with the more\ncomposure.\nAs I expected, so it proved; for as soon as the tide made to the\nwestward, I saw them all take boat, and row (or paddle, as we call it)\nall away: I should have observed, that for an hour and more before they\nwent off, they went to dancing, and I could easily discern their\npostures and gestures by my glasses; I could only perceive, by my nicest\nobservation, that they were stark naked, and had not the least covering\nupon them; but whether they were men or women, that I could not\ndistinguish.\nAs soon as I saw them shipped and gone, I took two guns upon my\nshoulders, and two pistols at my girdle, and my great sword by my side,\nwithout a scabbard; and with all the speed I was able to make, I went\naway to the hill, where I had discovered the first appearance of all. As\nsoon as I got thither, which was not less than two hours, (for I could\nnot go apace, being so loaded with arms as I was,) I perceived there had\nbeen three canoes more of savages on that place; and looking out\nfurther, I saw they were all at sea together, making over for the main.\nThis was a dreadful sight to me, especially when, going down to the\nshore, I could see the marks of horror which the dismal work they had\nbeen about had left behind it, viz. the blood, the bones, and part of\nthe flesh of human bodies, eaten and devoured by those wretches with\nmerriment and sport. I was so filled with indignation at the sight, that\nI began now to premeditate the destruction of the next that I saw there,\nlet them be who or how many soever.\nIt seemed evident to me, that the visits which they thus made to this\nisland were not very frequent; for it was above fifteen months before\nany more of them came on shore there again; that is to say, I never saw\nthem, or any footsteps or signals of them, in all that time; for as to\nthe rainy seasons, then they are sure not to come abroad, at least not\nso far; yet all this while I lived uncomfortably, by reason of the\nconstant apprehensions I was in of their coming upon me by surprise;\nfrom whence I observe, that the expectation of evil is more bitter than\nthe suffering, especially if there is no room to shake off that\nexpectation or those apprehensions.\nDuring all this time, I was in the murdering humour; and took up most of\nmy hours, which should have been better employed, in contriving how to\ncircumvent and fall upon them the very next time I should see them;\nespecially if they should be divided, as they were the last time, into\ntwo parties; nor did I consider at all, that if I killed one party,\nsuppose ten or a dozen, I was still the next day, or week, or month, to\nkill another, and so another, even _ad infinitum_, till I should be at\nlength no less a murderer than they were in being men-eaters, and\nperhaps much more so.\nI spent my days now in great perplexity and anxiety of mind, expecting\nthat I should one day or other fall into the hands of those merciless\ncreatures; if I did at any time venture abroad, it was not without\nlooking round me with the greatest care and caution imaginable; and now\nI found, to my great comfort, how happy it was that I had provided a\ntame flock or herd of goats; for I durst not, upon any account, fire my\ngun especially near that side of the island, where they usually came,\nlest I should alarm the savages; and if they had fled from me now, I was\nsure to have them come back again, with perhaps two or three hundred\ncanoes with them in a few days, and then I knew what to expect.\nHowever, I wore out a year and three months more before I ever saw any\nmore of the savages, and then I found them again, as I shall soon\nobserve. It is true, they might have been there once or twice, but\neither they made no stay, or, at least, I did not hear them; but in the\nmonth of May, as near as I could calculate, and in my four-and-twentieth\nyear, I had a very strange encounter with them, of which in its place.\nThe perturbation of my mind, during this fifteen or sixteen months\ninterval, was very great; I slept unquiet, dreamed always frightful\ndreams, and often started out of my sleep in the night; in the day great\ntroubles overwhelmed my mind; in the night I dreamed often of killing\nthe savages, and the reasons why I might justify the doing of it. But to\nwave all this for awhile, it was in the middle of May, on the sixteenth\nday, I think, as well as my poor wooden calendar would reckon, for I\nmarked all upon, the post still; I say, it was on the sixteenth of May\nthat it blew a great storm of wind all day, with a great deal of\nlightning and thunder, and a very foul night was after it: I know not\nwhat was the particular occasion of it; but as I was reading in the\nBible, and taken up with serious thoughts about my present condition, I\nwas surprised with the noise of a gun, as I thought, fired at sea.\nThis was, to be sure, a surprise of a quite different nature from any I\nhad met with before; for the notions this put into my thoughts were\nquite of another kind: I started up in the greatest haste imaginable;\nand in a trice clapped up my ladder to the middle place of the rock, and\npulled it after me, and mounting it the second time, got to the top of\nthe hill; that very moment a flash of fire bade me listen for a second\ngun, which accordingly in about half a moment I heard, and by the sound\nknew that it was from that part of the sea where I was driven out with\nthe current in my boat.\nI immediately considered that this must be some ship in distress, and\nthat they had some comrade, or some other ship in company, and fired\nthese guns for signals of distress, and to obtain help. I had this\npresence of mind at that minute as to think, that though I could not\nhelp them, it may be they might help me; so I brought together all the\ndry wood I could get at hand, and making a good handsome pile, I set it\non fire upon the hill; the wood was dry, and blazed freely, and though\nthe wind blew very hard, yet it burnt fairly out, so that I was certain,\nif there was any such thing as a ship, they must need see it, and no\ndoubt they did; for as soon as ever my fire blazed up, I heard another\ngun, and after that several others, all from the same quarter. I plied\nmy fire all night long, till day broke; and when it was broad day, and\nthe air cleared up, I saw something at a great distance at sea, full\neast of the island, whether a sail, or an hull, I could not distinguish,\nno not with my glasses, the distance was so great, and the weather\nstill something hazy also; at least it was so out at sea.\nI looked frequently at it all that day, and soon perceived that it did\nnot move; so I presently concluded that it was a ship at anchor; and\nbeing eager, you may be sure, to be satisfied, I took my gun in my hand,\nand ran towards the south-east side of the island, to the rocks, where I\nhad been formerly carried away with the current; and getting up there,\nthe weather by this time being perfectly clear, I could plainly see, to\nmy great sorrow, the wreck of a ship cast away in the night upon those\nconcealed rocks which I found when I was out in my boat; and which\nrocks, as they checked the violence of the stream, and made a kind of\ncounter-stream, or eddy, were the occasion of my recovering then from\nthe most desperate hopeless condition that ever I had been in all\nmy life.\nThus, what is one man\u2019s safety is another man\u2019s destruction; for it\nseems these men, whoever they were, being out of their knowledge, and\nthe rocks being wholly under water, had been driven upon them in the\nnight, the wind blowing hard at E. and E.N.E. Had they seen the island,\nas I must necessarily suppose they did not, they must, as I thought,\nhave endeavoured to have saved themselves on shore by the help of their\nboat; but the firing of their guns for help, especially when they saw,\nas I imagined, my fire, filled me with many thoughts: first, I imagined,\nthat, upon seeing my light, they might have put themselves into their\nboat, and have endeavoured to make the shore; but that the sea going\nvery high, they might have been cast away; other times I imagined, that\nthey might have lost their boat before, as might be the case many ways;\nas particularly, by the breaking of the sea upon their ship, which many\ntimes obliges men to stave, or take in pieces their boat; and sometimes\nto throw it overboard with their own hands; other times I imagined, they\nhad some other ship or ships in company, who, upon the signals of\ndistress they had made, had taken them up, and carried them off: other\nwhiles I fancied they were all gone off to sea in their boat, and being\nhurried away by the current that I had been formerly in, were carried\nout into the great ocean, where there was nothing but misery and\nperishing; and that perhaps they might by this time think of starving,\nand of being in a condition to eat one another.\nAll these were but conjectures at best, so, in the condition I was in, I\ncould do no more than look upon the misery of the poor men, and pity\nthem; which had still this good effect on my side, that it gave me more\nand more cause to give thanks to God, who had so happily and comfortably\nprovided for me in my desolate condition; and that of two ships\u2019\ncompanies, who were now cast away upon this part of the world, not one\nlife should be spared but mine. I learnt here again to observe, that it\nis very rare that the providence of God casts us into any condition of\nlife so low, or any misery so great, but we may see something or other\nto be thankful for, and may see others in worse circumstances than\nour own.\nSuch certainly was the case of these men, of whom I could not so much as\nsee room to suppose any of them were saved; nothing could make it\nrational, so much as to wish or expect that they did not all perish\nthere, except the possibility only of their being taken up by another\nship in company: and this was but mere possibility indeed; for I saw not\nthe least signal or appearance of any such thing.\nI cannot explain, by any possible energy of words, what a strange\nlonging, or hankering of desire, I felt in my soul upon this sight;\nbreaking out sometimes thus: \u201cO that there had been but one or two, nay,\nbut one soul saved out of the ship, to have escaped to me, that I might\nbut have had one companion, one fellow-creature to have spoken to me,\nand to have conversed with!\u201d In all the time of my solitary life, I\nnever felt so earnest, so strong a desire after the society of my\nfellow-creatures, or so deep a regret at want of it.\nThere are some secret moving springs in the affections, which, when\nthey are set a going by some object in view, or be it some object though\nnot in view, yet rendered present to the mind by the power of\nimagination, that motion carries out the soul by its impetuosity to such\nviolent eager embracings of the object, that the absence of it is\ninsupportable.\nSuch were these earnest wishings, \u201cThat but one man had been saved! O\nthat it had been but one!\u201d I believe I repeated the words, \u201cO that it\nhad been but one!\u201d a thousand times; and my desires were so moved by it,\nthat when I spoke the words, my hands would clinch together, and my\nfingers press the palms of my hands, that if I had had any soft thing in\nmy hand, it would have crushed it involuntarily; and my teeth in my head\nwould strike together, and set against one another so strong, that for\nsome time I could not part them again.\nLet the naturalists explain these things, and the reason and manner of\nthem: all I can say of them is, to describe the fact, which was ever\nsurprising to me when I found it, though I knew not from what it should\nproceed; it was doubtless the effect of ardent wishes, and of strong\nideas formed in my mind, realizing the comfort which the conversation of\none of my fellow-christians would have been to me.\nBut it was not to be; either their fate, or mine, or both, forbad it;\nfor till the last year of my being on this island, I never knew whether\nany were saved out of that ship, or no; and had only the affliction some\ndays after to see the corpse of a drowned boy come on shore, at the end\nof the island which was next the shipwreck: he had on no clothes but a\nseaman\u2019s waistcoat, a pair of open kneed linen drawers, and a blue linen\nshirt; but nothing to direct me so much as to guess what nation he was\nof: he had nothing in his pocket but two pieces of eight, and a\ntobacco-pipe; the last was to me of ten times more value than the first.\nIt was now calm, and I had a great mind to venture out in my boat to\nthis wreck, not doubting but I might find something on board that might\nbe useful to me; but that did not altogether press me so much, as the\npossibility that there might be yet some living creature on board, whose\nlife I might not only save, but might, by saving that life, comfort my\nown to the last degree: and this thought clung so to my heart, that I\ncould not be quiet night nor day, but I must venture out in my boat on\nboard this wreck; and committing the rest to God\u2019s providence, I thought\nthe impression was so strong upon my mind, that it could not be\nresisted, that it must come from some invisible direction, and that I\nshould be wanting to myself if I did not go.\nUnder the power of this impression, I hastened back to my castle,\nprepared every thing for my voyage, took a quantity of bread, a great\npot for fresh water, a compass to steer by, a bottle of rum, (for I had\nstill a great deal of that left) a basket full of raisins: and thus\nloading myself with every thing necessary, I went down to my boat, got\nthe water out of her, and got her afloat, loaded all my cargo in her,\nand then went home again for more: my second cargo was a great bag full\nof rice, the umbrella to set up over my head for shade, another large\npot full of lush water, and about two dozen of my small loaves, or\nbarley-cakes, more than before, with a bottle of goat\u2019s milk, and a\ncheese: all which, with great labour and sweat, I brought to my boat;\nand praying to God to direct my voyage, I put out, and rowing or\npaddling the canoe along the shore, I came at last to the utmost point\nof the island, on that side, viz. N.E. And now I was to launch out into\nthe ocean, and either to venture, or not to venture; I looked on the\nrapid currents which ran constantly on both sides of the island, at a\ndistance, and which were very terrible to me, from the remembrance of\nthe hazard I had been in before, and my heart began to fail me; for I\nforesaw, that if I was driven into either of those currents, I should\nbe carried a vast way out to sea and perhaps out of my reach, or sight\nof the island again; and that then, as my boat was but small, if any\nlittle gale of wind should rise, I should be inevitably lost.\nThese thoughts so oppressed my mind, that I began to give over my\nenterprise, and having haled my boat into a little creek on the shore, I\nstepped out, and sat me down upon a little spot of rising ground, very\npensive and anxious, between fear and desire, about my voyage; when, as\nI was musing, I could perceive that the tide was turned, and the flood\ncame on, upon which my going was for so many hours impracticable: upon\nthis it presently occurred to me, that I should go up to the highest\npiece of ground I could find, and observe, if I could, how the sets of\nthe tide or currents lay, when the flood came in, that I might judge\nwhether, if I was driven one way out, I might not expect to be driven\nanother way home, with the same rapidness of the currents. This thought\nwas no sooner in my head, but I cast my eye upon a little hill which\nsufficiently overlooked the sea both ways, and from whence I had a clear\nview of the currents, or sets of the tide, and which way I was to guide\nmyself in my return: here I found, that as the current of the ebb set\nout close by the south point of the island, so the current of the flood\nset in close by the shore of the north side; and that I had nothing to\ndo but to keep to the north of the island in my return, and I should do\nwell enough.\nEncouraged with this observation, I resolved the next morning to set out\nwith the first of the tide; and reposing myself for that night in the\ncanoe, under the great watch-coat I mentioned, I launched out. I made\nfirst a little out to sea full north, till I began to feel the benefit\nof the current, which sat eastward, and which carried me at a great\nrate, and yet did not so hurry me as the southern side current had done\nbefore, and so as to take from me all government of the boat; but having\na strong steerage with my paddle, I went, I say, at a great rate,\ndirectly for the wreck, and in less than two hours I came up to it.\nIt was a dismal sight to look at: the ship, which by its building was\nSpanish, stuck fast, jambed in between two rocks; all the stern and\nquarter of her was beaten to pieces with the sea; and as her forecastle,\nwhich stuck in the rocks, had run on with great violence, her main-mast\nand fore-mast were brought by the board, that is to say, broken short\noff, but her boltsprit was sound, and the head and bow appeared firm.\nWhen I came close to her, a dog appeared upon her, which, seeing me\ncoming, yelped and cried, and as soon as I called him, jumped into the\nsea to come to me: and I took him into the boat, but found him almost\ndead for hunger and thirst: I gave him a cake of my bread, and he ate\nlike a ravenous wolf that had been starving a fortnight in the snow: I\nthen gave the poor creature some fresh water, with which, if I would\nhave let him, he would have burst himself.\nAfter this I went on board. The first sight I met with was two men\ndrowned in the cook-room, or forecastle of the ship, with their arms\nfast about one another. I concluded, as is indeed probable, that when\nthe ship struck, it being in a storm, the sea broke so high, and so\ncontinually over her, that the men were not able to bear it, and were\nstrangled with the constant rushing in of the water, as much as if they\nhad been under water. Besides the dog, there was nothing left in the\nship that had life, nor any goods that I could see, but what were\nspoiled by the water: there were some casks of liquor, whether wine or\nbrandy I knew not, which lay lower in the hold, and which, the water\nbeing ebbed out, I could see; but they were too big to meddle with: I\nsaw several chests, which I believed belonged to some of the seamen, and\nI got two of them into the boat without examining what was in them.\nHad the stern of the ship been fixed, and the fore part broken off, I am\npersuaded I might have made a good voyage; for by what I found in these\ntwo chests, I had room to suppose the ship had a great deal of wealth\non board; and if I may guess by the course she steered, she must have\nbeen bound from the Buenos Ayres, or the Rio de la Plata, in the south\npart of America, beyond the Brasils, to the Havanna, in the Gulf of\nMexico, and so perhaps to Spain: she had, no doubt, a great treasure in\nher, but of no use at that time to any body; and what became of the rest\nof her people I then knew not.\nI found, besides these chests, a little cask full of liquor, of about\ntwenty gallons, which I got into my boat with much difficulty. There\nwere several muskets in a cabin, and a great powder-horn, with about\nfour pounds of powder in it: as for the muskets, I had no occasion for\nthem, so I left them, but took the powder-horn. I took a fire-shovel and\ntongs, which I wanted extremely; as also two little brass kettles, a\ncopper pot to make chocolate, and a gridiron; and with this cargo, and\nthe dog, I came away, the tide beginning to make home again; and the\nsame evening, about an hour within night, I reached the island again,\nweary and fatigued to the last degree.\nI reposed that night in the boat, and in the morning I resolved to\nharbour what I had gotten in my new cave, not to carry it home to my\ncastle. After refreshing myself, I got all my cargo on shore, and began\nto examine the particulars: the cask of liquor I found to be a kind of\nrum, but not such as we had at the Brasils; and, in a word, not at all\ngood; but when I came to open the chests, I found several things which I\nwanted: for example, I found in one a fine case of bottles, of an\nextraordinary kind, and filled with cordial waters, fine, and very good;\nthe bottles held about three pints each, and were tipped with silver: I\nfound two pots of very good succades, or sweetmeats, so fastened also on\nthe top, that the salt water had not hurt them; and two more of the\nsame, which the water had spoiled: I found some very good shirts, which\nwere very welcome to me, and about a dozen and a half of white linen\nhandkerchiefs and coloured neckcloths; the former were also very\nwelcome, being exceeding refreshing to wipe my face in a hot day.\nBesides this, when I came to the till in the chests, I found there three\ngreat bags of pieces of eight, which held about eleven hundred pieces in\nall; and in one of them, wrapt up in a paper, six doubloons of gold, and\nsome small bars or wedges of gold; I suppose they might all weigh near\na pound.\nThe other chest I found had some clothes in it, but of little value; but\nby the circumstances, it must have belonged to the gunner\u2019s mate, as\nthere was no powder in it, but about two pounds of glazed powder in the\nthree flasks, kept, I suppose, for charging their fowling-pieces on\noccasion. Upon the whole, I got very little by this voyage that was of\nmuch use to me; for, as to the money, I had no manner of occasion for\nit; it was to me as the dirt under my feet; and I would have given it\nall for three or four pair of English shoes and stockings, which were\nthings I greatly wanted, but had not had on my feet now for many years:\nI had, indeed, got two pair of shoes now, which I took off the feet of\nthe two drowned men whom I saw in the wreck; and I found two pair more\nin one of the chests, which were very welcome to me; but they were not\nlike our English shoes, either for case or service, being rather what we\ncall pumps than shoes. I found in the seaman\u2019s chest about fifty pieces\nof eight in royals, but no gold: I suppose this belonged to a poorer man\nthan the other, which seemed to belong to some officer.\nWell, however, I lugged the money home to my cave, and laid it up, as I\nhad done that before, which I brought from our own ship; but it was\ngreat pity, as I said, that the other part of the ship had not come to\nmy share, for I am satisfied I might have loaded my canoe several times\nover with money, which, if I had ever escaped to England, would have\nlain here safe enough till I might have come again and fetched it.\nHaving now brought all my things on shore, and secured them, I went back\nto my boat, and rowed or paddled her along the shore to her old\nharbour, where I laid her up, and made the best of my way to my old\nhabitation, where I found every thing safe and quiet; so I began to\nrepose myself, live after my old fashion, and take care of my family\naffairs; and for awhile I lived easy enough; only that I was more\nvigilant than I used to be, looked out oftener, and did not go abroad so\nmuch; and if at any time I did stir with any freedom, it was always to\nthe east part of the island, where I was pretty well satisfied the\nsavages never came, and where I could go without so many precautions,\nand such a load of arms and ammunition as I always carried with me, if I\nwent the other way.\nI lived in this condition near two years more; but my unlucky head, that\nwas always to let me know it was born to make my body miserable, was all\nthese two years filled with projects and designs, how, if it were\npossible, I might get away from this island; for sometimes I was for\nmaking another voyage to the wreck, though my reason told me, that there\nwas nothing left there worth the hazard of my voyage; sometimes for a\nramble one way, sometimes another; and I believe verity, if I had had\nthe boat that I went from Sallee in, I should have ventured to sea,\nbound any where, I knew not whither.\nI have been, in all my circumstances, a memento to those who are touched\nwith that general plague of mankind, whence, for aught I know, one half\nof their miseries flow; I mean, that of not being satisfied with the\nstation wherein God and nature hath placed them; for, not to look back\nupon my primitive condition, and the excellent advice of my father, the\nopposition to which was, as I may call it, my original sin, my\nsubsequent mistakes of the same kind have been the means of my coming\ninto this miserable condition; for had that Providence, which so happily\nhad seated me at the Brasils as a planter, blessed me with confined\ndesires, and could I have been contented to have gone on gradually, I\nmight have been by this time, I mean in the time of my being on this\nisland, one of the most considerable planters in the Brasils; nay, I am\npersuaded, that by the improvements I had made in that little time I\nlived there, and the increase I should probably have made if I had\nstayed, I might have been worth a hundred thousand moidores; and what\nbusiness had I to leave a settled fortune, well-stocked plantation,\nimproving and increasing, to turn supercargo to Guinea, to fetch\nNegroes, when patience and time would have so increased our stock at\nhome, that we could have bought them at our own doors, from those whose\nbusiness it was to fetch them? And though it had cost us something more,\nyet the difference of that price was by no means worth saving at so\ngreat a hazard.\nBut as this is ordinarily the fate of young heads, so reflection upon\nthe folly of it is as ordinarily the exercise of more years, or of the\ndear-bought experience of time; and so it was with me now; and yet, so\ndeep had the mistake taken root in my temper, that I could not satisfy\nmyself in my station, but was continually poring upon the means and\npossibility of my escape from this place; and that I may, with the\ngreater pleasure to the reader, bring on the remaining part of my story,\nit may not be improper to give some account of my first conceptions on\nthe subject of this foolish scheme for my escape; and how, and upon what\nfoundation, I acted.\nI am now to be supposed to be retired into my castle, after my late\nvoyage to the wreck, my frigate laid up, and secured under water as\nusual, and my condition restored to what it was before: I had more\nwealth, indeed, than I had before, but was not at all the richer; for I\nhad no more use for it than the Indians of Peru had before the Spaniards\ncame thither.\nIt was one of the nights in the rainy season in March, the\nfour-and-twentieth year of my first setting foot in this island of\nsolitariness, I was lying in my bed or hammock, awake, and very well in\nhealth, had no pain, no distemper, no uneasiness of body, no, nor any\nuneasiness of mind more than ordinary, but could by no means close my\neyes, that is, so as to sleep; no, not a wink all night long, otherwise\nthan as follows:\nIt is as impossible as needless to set down the innumerable crowd of\nthoughts that whirled through that great thoroughfare of the brain, the\nmemory, in this night\u2019s time: I ran over the whole history of my life in\nminiature, or by abridgment, as I may call it, to my coming to this\nisland; and also of that part of my life since I came to this island; in\nmy reflections upon the state of my case, since I came on shore on this\nisland; I was comparing the happy posture of my affairs, in the first\nyears of my habitation here, to that course of anxiety, fear, and care,\nwhich I had lived in ever since I had seen the print of a foot in the\nsand; not that I did not believe the savages had frequented the island\neven all the while, and might have been several hundreds of them at\ntimes on the shore there; but as I had never known it, and was incapable\nof any apprehensions about it, my satisfaction was perfect, though my\ndanger was the same; and I was as happy in not knowing my danger, as if\nI had never really been exposed to it; this furnished my thoughts with\nmany very profitable reflections, and particularly this one: How\ninfinitely good that Providence is, which has settled in its government\nof mankind such narrow bounds to his sight and knowledge of things; and\nthough he walks in the midst of so many thousand dangers, the sight of\nwhich, if discovered to him, would distract his mind and sink his\nspirits, he is kept serene and calm, by having the events of things hid\nfrom his eyes, and knowing nothing of the dangers which surround him.\nAfter these thoughts had for some time entertained me, I came to reflect\nseriously upon the real danger I had been in for so many years in this\nvery island; and how I had walked about in the greatest security, and\nwith all possible tranquillity, even perhaps when nothing but a brow on\na hill, a great tree, or the casual approach of night, had been between\nme and the worst kind of destruction, viz. that of falling into the\nhands of cannibals, and savages, who would have seized on me with the\nsame view, as I did of a goat, or a turtle; and have thought it no more\na crime to kill and devour me, than I did of a pigeon, or a curlieu: I\nwould unjustly slander my self, if I should say I was not sincerely\nthankful to my great Preserver, to whose singular protection I\nacknowledged, with great humility, that all these unknown deliverances\nwere due; and without which, I must inevitably have fallen into their\nmerciless hands.\nWhen these thoughts were over, my head was for some time taken up in\nconsidering the nature of these wretched creatures; I mean, the savages;\nand how it came to pass in the world, that the wise governour of all\nthings should give up any of his creatures to such inhumanity; nay, to\nsomething so much below, even brutality it self, as to devour its own\nkind; but as this ended in some (at that time fruitless) speculations,\nit occurred to me to enquire, what part of the world these wretches\nlived in; how far off the coast was from whence they came; what they\nventured over so far from home for; what kind of boats they had; and why\nI might not order my self, and my business so, that I might be as able\nto go over thither, as they were to come to me.\nI never so much as troubled my self to consider what I should do with my\nself, when I came thither; what would become of me, if I fell into the\nhands of the savages; or how I should escape from them, if they\nattempted me; no, nor so much as how it was possible for me to reach the\ncoast, and not be attempted by some or other of them, without any\npossibility of delivering my self; and if I should not fall into their\nhands, what I should do for provision, or whither I should bend my\ncourse; none of these thoughts, I say, so much as came in my way; but my\nmind was wholly bent upon the notion of my passing over in my boat, to\nthe main land: I looked back upon my present condition as the most\nmiserable that could possibly be; that I was not able to throw myself\ninto any thing but death that could be called worse; that if I reached\nthe shore of the main, I might, perhaps, meet with relief; or I might\ncoast along, as I did on the shore of Africa, till I came to some\ninhabited country, and where I might find some relief; and after all,\nperhaps, I might fall in with some Christian ship that might take me in:\nand if the worst came to the worst, I could but die, which would put an\nend to all these miseries at once. Pray, note all this was the fruit of\na disturbed mind, an impatient temper, made, as it were, desperate by\nthe long continuance of my troubles, and the disappointments I had met\nin the wreck I had been on board of, and where I had been so near the\nobtaining of what I so earnestly longed for, viz. somebody to speak to,\nand to learn some knowledge from of the place where I was, and of the\nprobable means of my deliverance; I say, I was agitated wholly by these\nthoughts. All my calm of mind in my resignation to Providence, and\nwaiting the issue of the dispositions of Heaven, seemed to be suspended;\nand I had, as it were, no power to turn my thoughts to any thing but the\nproject of a voyage to the main; which came upon me with such force, and\nsuch an impetuosity of desire, that it was not to be resisted.\nWhen this had agitated my thoughts for two hours or more, with such\nviolence that it set my very blood into a ferment, and my pulse beat as\nhigh as if I had been in a fever, merely with the extraordinary fervour\nof my mind about it; nature, as if I had been fatigued and exhausted\nwith the very thought of it, threw me into a sound sleep: one would have\nthought I should have dreamed of it; but I did not, nor of any thing\nrelating to it; but I dreamed, that as I was going out in the morning,\nas usual, from my castle, I saw upon the shore two canoes and eleven\nsavages coming to land, and that they brought with them another savage,\nwhom they were going to kill, in order to eat him; when on a sudden, the\nsavage that they were going to kill jumped away, and ran for his life:\nthen I thought in my sleep, that he came running into my little thick\ngrove, before my fortification, to hide himself; and that I seeing him\nalone, and not perceiving that the others sought him that way, shewed\nmyself to him, and, smiling upon him, encouraged him: that he kneeled\ndown to me, seeming to pray me to assist him; upon which I shewed my\nladder, made him go up it, and carried him into my cave, and he became\nmy servant; and that as soon as I had got this man, I said to myself,\n\u201cNow I may certainly venture to the main land; for this fellow will\nserve me as a pilot, and will tell me what to do, and whither to go for\nprovisions, and whither not to go for fear of being devoured; what\nplaces to venture into, and what to escape.\u201d I waked with this thought,\nand was under such inexpressible impressions of joy at the prospect of\nmy escape in my dream, that the disappointments which I felt upon coming\nto myself, and finding it was no more than a dream, were equally\nextravagant the other way, and threw me into a very great dejection\nof spirit.\nUpon this, however, I made this conclusion, that my only way to go about\nan attempt for an escape, was, if possible, to get a savage in my\npossession; and, if possible, it should be one of their prisoners whom\nthey had condemned to be eaten, and should bring hither to kill: but\nthese thoughts still were attended with this difficulty, that it was\nimpossible to effect this, without attacking a whole caravan of them,\nand killing them all; and this was not only a very desperate attempt,\nand might miscarry; but, on the other hand, I had greatly scrupled the\nlawfulness of it to me, and my heart trembled at the thoughts of\nshedding so much blood, though it was for my deliverance: I need not\nrepeat the arguments which occurred to me against this, they being the\nsame mentioned before: but though I had other reasons to offer now, viz.\nthat those men were enemies to my life, and would devour me, if they\ncould; that it was self-preservation, in the highest degree, to deliver\nmyself from this death of a life, and was acting in my own defence, as\nmuch as if they were actually assaulting me, and the like; I say, though\nthese things argued for it, yet the thoughts of shedding human blood for\nmy deliverance were very terrible to me, and such as I could by no means\nreconcile myself to a great while.\nHowever, at last, after many secret disputes with myself, and after\ngreat perplexities about it, (for all these arguments, one way and\nanother, struggled in my head a long time,) the eager prevailing desire\nof deliverance at length mastered all the rest, and I resolved, if\npossible, to get one of these savages into my hands, cost what it would:\nthe next thing then was to contrive how to do it; and this indeed was\nvery difficult to resolve on: but as I could pitch upon no probable\nmeans for it, so I resolved to put myself upon the watch to see them\nwhen they came on shore, and leave the rest to the event, taking such\nmeasures as the opportunity should present, let it be what it would.\nWith these resolutions in my thoughts, I set myself upon the scout as\noften as possible, and indeed so often, till I was heartily tired of it;\nfor it was above a year and a half that I waited, and for a great part\nof that time went out to the west end, and to the south-west corner of\nthe island, almost every day, to see the canoes, but none appeared. This\nwas very discouraging, and began to trouble me much; though I can\u2019t say\nthat it did in this case, as it had done some time before that, viz.\nwear off the edge of my desire to the thing; but the longer it seemed to\nbe delayed, the more eager I was for it: in a word, I was not at first\nmore careful to shun the sight of these savages, and avoid being seen by\nthem, than I was now eager to be upon them.\nBesides, I fancied myself able to manage one, nay, two or three savages,\nif I had them, so as to make them entirely slaves to me, to do whatever\nI should direct them, and to prevent their being able, at any time, to\ndo me any hurt. It was a great while that I pleased myself with this\naffair, but nothing still presented; all my fancies and schemes came to\nnothing, for no savages came near me for a great while.\nAbout a year and a half after I had entertained these notions, and, by\nlong musing, had, as it were, resolved them all into nothing, for want\nof an occasion to put them in execution, I was surprised one morning\nearly, with seeing no less than five canoes all on shore together, on my\nside the island, and the people who belonged to them all landed, and out\nof my sight: the number of them broke all my measures; for seeing so\nmany, and knowing that they always came four, or six, or sometimes more,\nin a boat, I could not tell what to think of it, or how to take my\nmeasures, to attack twenty or thirty men single-handed; so I lay still\nin my castle, perplexed and discomforted; however, I put myself into all\nthe same postures for an attack that I had formerly provided, and was\njust ready for action, if any thing had presented. Having waited a good\nwhile, listening to hear if they made any noise; at length being very\nimpatient, I set my guns at the foot of my ladder, and clambered up to\nthe top of the hill by my two stages, as usual, standing so, however,\nthat my head did not appear above the hill, so that they could not\nperceive me by any means. Here I observed, by the help of my perspective\nglass, that they were no less than thirty in number; that they had a\nfire kindled, and that they had had meat dressed; how they cooked it,\nthat I knew not, or what it was; but they were all dancing in I know not\nhow many barbarous gestures and figures, their own way, round the fire.\nWhen I was thus looking on them, I perceived by my perspective two\nmiserable wretches dragged from the boats, where, it seems, they were\nlaid by, and were now brought out for the slaughter: I perceived one of\nthem immediately fall, being knocked down, I suppose, with a club or\nwooden sword, for that was their way; and two or three others were at\nwork immediately, cutting him open for their cookery, while the other\nvictim was left standing by himself, till they should be ready for him.\nIn that very moment this poor wretch, seeing himself a little at\nliberty, nature inspired him with hopes of life, and he started away\nfrom them, and ran with incredible swiftness along the sands, directly\ntowards me, I mean towards that part of the coast where my\nhabitation was.\nI was dreadfully frighted (that I must acknowledge) when I perceived him\nto run my way; and especially when, as I thought, I saw him pursued by\nthe whole body; and now I expected that part of my dream was coming to\npass, and that he would certainly take shelter in my grove; but I could\nnot depend, by any means, upon my dream for the rest of it, viz. that\nthe other savages would not pursue him thither, and find him there.\nHowever, I kept my station, and my spirits began to recover, when I\nfound that there were not above three men that followed him; and still\nmore was I encouraged, when I found that he out-stript them exceedingly\nin running, and gained ground of them, so that if he could but hold it\nfor half an hour, I saw easily he would fairly get away from them all.\nThere was between them and my castle the creek, which I mentioned often\nat the first part of my story, when I landed my cargoes out of the ship;\nand this I knew he must necessarily swim over, or the poor wretch would\nbe taken there: but when the savage escaping came thither, he made\nnothing of it, though the tide was then up; but plunging in, swam\nthrough in about thirty strokes, or thereabouts, landed, and ran on with\nexceeding strength and swiftness. When the three pursuers came to the\ncreek, I found that two of them could swim, but the third could not, and\nthat he, standing on the other side, looked at the other, but went no\nfarther; and soon after went softly back again, which, as it happened,\nwas very well for him in the main.\nI observed, that the two who swam were yet more than twice as long\nswimming over the creek than the fellow was that fled from them. It\ncame now very warmly upon my thoughts, and indeed irresistibly, that now\nwas my time to get a servant, and perhaps a companion, or assistant, and\nthat I was called plainly by Providence to save this poor creature\u2019s\nlife. I immediately got down the ladders with all possible expedition,\nfetched my two guns, for they were both at the foot of the ladder, as I\nobserved above; and getting up again with the same haste to the top of\nthe hill, I crossed towards the sea; and having a very short cut, and\nall down hill, clapped myself in the way between the pursuers and the\npursued, hallooing aloud to him that fled, who, looking back, was at\nfirst perhaps as much frighted at me as at them; but I beckoned with my\nhand to him to come back; and in the meantime I slowly advanced towards\nthe two that followed; then rushing at once upon the foremost, I knocked\nhim down with the stock of my piece; I was loath to fire, because I\nwould not have the rest hear, though at that distance it would not have\nbeen easily heard; and being out of sight of the smoke too, they would\nnot have easily known what to make of it. I having knocked this fellow\ndown, the other who pursued him stopped, as if he had been frightened,\nand I advanced apace towards him; but as I came nearer, I perceived\npresently he had a bow and arrow, and was fitting it to shoot at me; so\nI was then necessitated to shoot at him first; which I did, and killed\nhim at the first shot. The poor savage who fled, but had stopped, though\nhe saw both his enemies fallen, and killed, (as he thought) yet was so\nfrighted with the fire and noise of my piece, that he stood stock-still,\nand neither came forward, nor went backward, though he seemed rather\ninclined to fly still, than to come on. I hallooed again to him, and\nmade signs to come forward, which he easily understood, and came a\nlittle way, then stopped again, and then a little farther, and stopped\nagain; and I could then perceive that he stood trembling, as if he had\nbeen taken prisoner, and had just been to be killed, as his two enemies\nwere. I beckoned him again to come to me, and gave him all the signs of\nencouragement that I could think of; and he came nearer and nearer,\nkneeling down every ten or twelve steps, in token of acknowledgment for\nsaving his life. I smiled at him, and looked pleasantly, and beckoned to\nhim to come still nearer. At length he came close to me, and then he\nkneeled down again, kissed the ground, and laid his head upon the\nground, and taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head. This, it\nseems, was in token of swearing to be my slave for ever. I took him up,\nand made much of him, and encouraged him all I could. But there was more\nwork to do yet; for I perceived the savage, whom I knocked down, was not\nkilled, but stunned with the blow, and began to come to himself: so I\npointed to him, and showed him the savage, that he was not dead: upon\nthis he spoke some words to me; and though I could not understand them,\nyet I thought they were pleasant to hear, for they were the first sound\nof a man\u2019s voice that I had heard, my own excepted, for above\nfive-and-twenty years. But there was no time for such reflections now:\nthe savage, who was knocked down, recovered himself so far as to sit up\nupon the ground; and I perceived that my savage began to be afraid; but\nwhen I saw that, I presented my other piece at the man, as if I would\nshoot him: upon this my savage, for so I call him now, made a motion to\nme to lend him my sword, which hung naked in a belt by my side: so I\ndid: he no sooner had it, but he runs to his enemy, and at one blow cut\noff his head so cleverly, no executioner in Germany could have done it\nsooner or better; which I thought very strange for one, who, I had\nreason to believe, never saw a sword in his life before, except their\nown wooden swords: however, it seems, as I learnt afterwards, they make\ntheir wooden swords so sharp, so heavy, and the wood is so hard, that\nthey will cut off heads even with them, nay, and arms, and that at one\nblow too. When he had done this, he comes laughing to me in sign of\ntriumph, and brought me the sword again, and, with abundance of\ngestures, which I did not understand, laid it down, with the head of the\nsavage that he had killed, just before me.\nBut that which astonished him most was, to know how I had killed the\nother Indian so far off; so pointing to him, he made signs to me to let\nhim go to him: so I bade him go, as well as I could. When he came to\nhim, he stood like one amazed, looking at him; turned him first on one\nside, then on t\u2019other; looked at the wound the bullet had made, which it\nseems was just in his breast, where it had made a hole, and no great\nquantity of blood had followed; but he had bled inwardly, for he was\nquite dead. Then he took up his bow and arrows, and came back; so I\nturned to go away, and beckoned him to follow me, making signs to him\nthat more might come after them.\nUpon this he signed to me, that he should bury them with sand, that they\nmight not be seen by the rest, if they followed; and so I made signs\nagain to him to do so. He fell to work, and in an instant he had scraped\na hole in the sand with his hands, big enough to bury the first in, and\nthen dragged him into it, and covered him, and did so also by the other;\nI believe he had buried them both in a quarter of an hour: then calling\nhim away, I carried him not to my castle, but quite away to my cave, on\nthe farther part of the island; so I did not let my dream come to pass\nin that part; viz. that he came into my grove for shelter.\nHere I gave him bread and a bunch of raisins to eat, and a draught of\nwater, which I found he was indeed in great distress for, by his\nrunning; and having refreshed him, I made signs for him to go lie down\nand sleep, pointing to a place where I had laid a great parcel of\nrice-straw, and a blanket upon it, which I used to sleep upon myself\nsometimes; so the poor creature lay down, and went to sleep.\nHe was a comely handsome fellow, perfectly well made, with straight long\nlimbs, not too large, tall, and well-shaped, and, as I reckon, about\ntwenty-six years of age. He had a very good countenance, not a fierce\nand surly aspect, but seemed to have something very manly in his face,\nand yet he had all the sweetness and softness of an European in his\ncountenance too, especially when he smiled: his hair was long and black,\nnot curled like wool; his forehead very high and large, and a great\nvivacity and sparkling sharpness in his eyes. The colour of his skin was\nnot quite black, but very tawny, and yet not of an ugly yellow nauseous\ntawny, as the Brasilians and Virginians, and other natives of America\nare, but of a bright kind of a dun olive colour, that had in it\nsomething very agreeable, though not very easy to describe. His face was\nround and plump, his nose small, not flat like the Negroe\u2019s, a very good\nmouth, thin lips, and his teeth fine, well-set, and white as ivory.\nAfter he had slumbered, rather than slept, about half an hour, he waked\nagain, and comes out of the cave to me, for I had been milking my goats,\nwhich I had in the enclosure just by: when he espied me, he came running\nto me, laying himself down again upon the ground, with all the possible\nsigns of an humble thankful disposition, making many, antic gestures to\nshew it. At last he lays his head flat upon the ground, close to my\nfoot, and sets my other foot upon his head, as he had done before; and\nafter this, made all the signs to me of subjection, servitude, and\nsubmission imaginable, to let me know how much he would serve me as long\nas he lived. I understood him in many things, and let him know I was\nvery well pleased with him. In a little time I began to speak to him,\nand teach him to speak to me; and first, I made him know his name should\nbe Friday, which was the day I saved his life; and I called him so for\nthe memory of the time; I likewise taught him to say Master, and then\nlet him know that was to be my name; I likewise taught him to say Yes\nand No, and to know the meaning of them. I gave him some milk in an\nearthen pot, and let him see me drink it before him, and sop my bread in\nit; and I gave him a cake of bread to do the like, which he quickly\ncomplied with, and made signs that it was very good for him.\nI kept there with him all that night; but as soon as it was day, I\nbeckoned him to come with me, and let him know I would give him some\nclothes; at which he seemed very glad, for he was stark-naked. As we\nwent by the place where he had buried the two men, he pointed exactly to\nthe spot, and shewed me the marks that he had made to find them again,\nmaking signs to me that we should dig them up again, and eat them: at\nthis I appeared very angry, expressed my abhorrence of it, made as if I\nwould vomit at the thoughts of it, and beckoned with my hand to him to\ncome away, which he did immediately, with great submission. I then led\nhim up to the top of the hill, to see if his enemies were gone, and\npulling out my glass, I looked, and saw plainly the place where they had\nbeen, but no appearance of them, or of their canoes; so that it was\nplain that they were gone, and had left their two comrades behind them,\nwithout, any search after them.\nBut I was not content with this discovery; but having now more courage,\nand consequently more curiosity, I took my man Friday with me, giving\nhim the sword in his hand, with the bow and arrows at his back, which I\nfound he could use very dexterously, making him carry one gun for me,\nand I two for myself, and away we marched to the place where these\ncreatures had been; for I had a mind now to get some further\nintelligence of them. When I came to the place, my very blood ran chill\nin my veins, and my heart sunk within me at the horror of the spectacle:\nindeed it was a dreadful sight, at least it was so to me, though Friday\nmade nothing of it: the place was covered with human bones, the ground\ndyed with the blood, great pieces of flesh left here and there,\nhalf-eaten, mangled, and scorched; and, in short, all the tokens of the\ntriumphant feast they had been making there, after a victory over their\nenemies. I saw three skulls, five hands, and the bones of three or four\nlegs and feet, and abundance of other parts of the bodies; and Friday,\nby his signs, made me understand that they brought over four prisoners\nto feast upon; that three of them were eaten up, and that he, pointing\nto himself, was the fourth; that there had been a great battle between\nthem and their next king, whose subjects, it seems, he had been one of;\nand that they had taken a great number of prisoners, all which were\ncarried to several places by those that had taken them in the flight, in\norder to feast upon them, as was done here by these wretches upon those\nthey brought hither.\nI caused Friday to gather all the skulls, bones, flesh, and whatever\nremained, and lay them together on an heap, and make a great fire upon\nit, and burn them all to ashes. I found Friday had still a hankering\nstomach after some of the flesh, and was still a cannibal in his nature;\nbut I discovered so much abhorrence at the very thoughts of it, and at\nthe least appearance of it, that he durst not discover it; for I had, by\nsome means, let him know that I would kill him if he offered it.\nWhen we had done this, we came back to our castle, and there I fell to\nwork for my man Friday; and first of all, I gave him a pair of linen\ndrawers, which I had out of the poor gunner\u2019s chest I mentioned, and\nwhich I found in the wreck; and which, with a little alteration, fitted\nhim very well; then I made him a jerkin of goat\u2019s skin as well as my\nskill would allow, and I was now grown a tolerable good tailor; and I\ngave him a cap, which I had made of a hare-skin, very convenient, and\nfashionable enough: and thus he was dressed, for the present, tolerably\nwell, and mighty well was he pleased to see himself almost as well\nclothed as his master. It is true, he went awkwardly in these things at\nfirst; wearing the drawers was very awkward to him, and the sleeves of\nthe waistcoat galled his shoulders and the inside of his arms; but a\nlittle easing them, where he complained they hurt him, and using himself\nto them, at length he took to them very well.\nThe next day after I came home to my hutch with him, I began to\nconsider where I should lodge him; and that I might do well for him, and\nyet be perfectly easy myself, I made a little tent for him in the vacant\nplace between my two fortifications, in the inside of the last, and in\nthe outside of the first: and as there was a door or entrance there into\nmy cave, I made a formal framed door-case, and a door to it of boards,\nand set it up in the passage, a little within the entrance: and causing\nthe door to open on the inside, I barred it up in the night, taking in\nmy ladders too; so that Friday could no way come at me in the inside of\nmy innermost wall, without making so much noise in getting over, that it\nmust needs awaken me; for my first wall had now a complete roof over it\nof long poles, covering all my tent, and leaning up to the side of the\nhill, which was again laid cross with small sticks instead of laths, and\nthen thatched over a great thickness with the rice straw, which was\nstrong like reeds; and at the hole or place which was left to go in or\nout by the ladder, I had placed a kind of trapdoor, which if it had been\nattempted on the outside, would not have opened at all, but would have\nfallen down, and made a great noise; and as to weapons, I took them all\nin to my side every night.\nBut I needed none of all this precaution; for never man had a more\nfaithful, loving, sincere servant than Friday was to me; without\npassions, sullenness, or designs; perfectly obliging and engaging; his\nvery affections were tied to me, like those of a child to a father; and\nI dare say, he would have sacrificed his life for the saving mine, upon\nany occasion whatsoever: the many testimonies he gave me of this put it\nout of doubt; and soon convinced me, that I needed to use no precautions\nas to my safety on his account.\nThis frequently gave me occasion to observe, and that with wonder, that,\nhowever it had pleased God in his providence, and in the government of\nthe works of his hands, to take from so great a part of the world of his\ncreatures the best uses to which their faculties, and the powers of\ntheir souls, are adapted; yet that he has bestowed upon them the same\npowers, the same reason, the same affections, the same sentiments of\nkindness and obligation, the same passions and resentments of wrongs,\nthe same sense of gratitude, sincerity, fidelity, and all the capacities\nof doing good, and receiving good, that he has given to us; and that\nwhen he pleases to offer them occasions of exerting these, they are as\nready, nay more ready, to apply them to the right uses for which they\nwere bestowed, than we are. And this made me very melancholy sometimes,\nin reflecting, as the several occasions presented, how mean a use we\nmake of all these, even though we have these powers enlightened by the\ngreat lamp of instruction, the Spirit of God, and by the knowledge of\nhis word, added to our understanding; and why it has pleased God to hide\nthe life saving knowledge from so many millions of souls, who, if I\nmight judge by this poor savage, would make a much better use of it\nthan we did.\nFrom hence I sometimes was led too far to invade the sovereignty of\nProvidence; and, as it were, arraign the justice of so arbitrary a\ndisposition of things, that should hide that light from some, and reveal\nit to others, and yet expect a like duty from both: but I shut it up,\nand checked my thoughts with this conclusion: first, that we do not know\nby what light and law these should be condemned; but that as God was\nnecessarily, and by the nature of his being, infinitely holy and just,\nso it could not be, but that if these creatures were all sentenced to\nabsence from himself, it was on account of sinning against that light,\nwhich, as the Scripture says, was a law to themselves, and by such rules\nas their consciences would acknowledge to be just, though the foundation\nwas not discovered to us: and, secondly, that still, as we are all clay\nin the hand of the potter, no vessel could say to him, \u201cWhy hast thou\nformed me thus?\u201d\nBut to return to my new companion: I was greatly delighted with him, and\nmade it my business to teach him every thing that was proper to make\nhim useful, handy, and helpful; but especially to make him speak, and\nunderstand me when I spake: and he was the aptest scholar that ever was;\nand particularly was so merry, so constantly diligent, and so pleased\nwhen he could but understand me, or make me understand him, that it was\nvery pleasant to me to talk to him. And now my life began to be so easy,\nthat I began to say to myself, that could I but have been safe from more\nsavages, I cared not if I was never to remove from the place while\nI lived.\nAfter I had been two or three days returned to my castle, I thought,\nthat, in order to bring Friday off from his horrid way of feeding, and\nfrom the relish of a cannibal\u2019s stomach, I ought to let him taste other\nflesh; so I took him out with me one morning to the woods: I went,\nindeed, intending to kill a kid out of my own flock, and bring it home\nand dress it: but as I was going, I saw a she goat lying down in the\nshade, and two young kids sitting by her. I catched hold of Friday:\n\u201cHold,\u201d said I, \u201cstand still;\u201d and made signs to him not to stir.\nImmediately I presented my piece, shot and killed one of the kids. The\npoor creature, who had, at a distance indeed, seen me kill the savage\nhis enemy, but did not know, or could imagine how it was done, was\nsensibly surprised, trembled and shook, and looked so amazed, that I\nthought he would have sunk down: he did not see the kid I had shot at,\nor perceive I had killed it, but ripped up his waistcoat to feel if he\nwas not wounded; and, as I found, presently thought I was resolved to\nkill him: for he came and kneeled down to me, and, embracing my knees,\nsaid a great many things I did not understand but I could easily see\nthat his meaning was to pray me not to kill him.\nI soon found a way to convince him, that I would do him no harm; and\ntaking him up by the hand, laughed at him, and pointing to the kid which\nI had killed, beckoned to him to run and fetch it, which he did: and\nwhile he was wondering and looking to see how the creature was killed,\nI loaded my gun again, and by and by I saw a great fowl, like a hawk,\nsit upon a tree within shot; so, to let Friday understand a little what\nI would do, I called him to me again, pointing at the fowl, which was\nindeed a parrot, though I thought it had been a hawk: I say, pointing to\nthe parrot, and to my gun, and to the ground under the parrot, to let\nhim see I would make him fall, I made him understand that I would shoot\nand kill that bird; accordingly I fired, and bid him look, and\nimmediately he saw the parrot fall; he stood like one frighted again,\nnotwithstanding all that I had said to him; and I found he was the more\namazed, because he did not see me put any thing into the gun; but\nthought there must be some wonderful fund of death and destruction in\nthat thing, able to kill man, beast, bird, or any thing near or far off;\nfor the astonishment this created in him was such, as could not wear off\nfor a long time; and I believe, if I would have let him, he would have\nworshipped me and my gun; as for the gun itself, he would not so much as\ntouch it for several days over; but would speak to it, and talk to it,\nas if it had answered him, when he was by himself; which, as I\nafterwards learnt of him, was to desire it not to kill him.\nWell; after his astonishment was a little over at this, I pointed to him\nto run and fetch the bird I had shot, which he did, but staid some time;\nfor the parrot, not being quite dead, had fluttered a good way off from\nthe place where she fell; however, he found her, took her up, and\nbrought her to me; and, as I had perceived his ignorance about the gun\nbefore, I took this advantage to charge the gun again, and not let him\nsee me do it, that I might be ready for any other mark that might\npresent; but nothing more offered at that time; so I brought home the\nkid; and the same evening I took the skin off, and cut it out as well as\nI could, and having a pot for that purpose, I boiled or stewed some of\nthe flesh, and made some very good broth; after I had begun to eat some,\nI gave some to my man, who seemed very glad of it, and liked it very\nwell; but that which was strangest to him, was, to see me eat salt with\nit. He made a sign to me that the salt was not good to eat; and putting\na little into his own month, he seemed to nauseate it, and would spit\nand sputter at it, washing his mouth with fresh water after it. On the\nother hand, I took some meat in my mouth without salt, and I pretended\nto spit and sputter for want of salt, as fast as he had done at the\nsalt; but it would not do, he would never care for salt with meat, or in\nhis broth; at least, not a great while, and then but a very little.\nHaving thus fed him with boiled meat and broth, I was resolved to feast\nhim the next day with roasting a piece of the kid: this I did by hanging\nit before the fire in a string, as I had seen many people do in England,\nsetting two poles up, one on each side the fire, and one cross on the\ntop, and tying the string to the cross stick, letting the meat turn\ncontinually: this Friday admired very much; but when he came to taste\nthe flesh, he took so many ways to tell me how well he liked it, that I\ncould not but understand him; and at last he told me he would never eat\nman\u2019s flesh any more, which I was very glad to hear.\nThe next day I set him to work to beating some corn out, and sifting it\nin the manner I used to do, as I observed before; and he soon understood\nhow to do it as well as I, especially after he had seen what the meaning\nof it was, and that it was to make bread of; for after that I let him\nsee me make my bread, and bake it too; and in a little time Friday was\nable to do all the work for me, as well as I could do it myself.\nI began now to consider, that, having two mouths to feed instead of one,\nI must provide more ground for my harvest, and plant a larger quantity\nof corn, than I used to do; so I marked out a larger piece of land, and\nbegan the fence in the same manner as before, in which Friday not only\nworked very willingly and very hard, but did it very cheerfully; and I\ntold him what it was for, that it was for corn to make more bread,\nbecause he was now with me, and that I might have enough for him and\nmyself too: he appeared very sensible of that part, and let me know,\nthat he thought I had much more labour upon me on his account, than I\nhad for myself, and that he would work the harder for me, if I would\ntell him what to do.\nThis was the pleasantest year of all the life I led in this place.\nFriday began to talk pretty well, and understand the names of almost\nevery thing I had occasion to call for, and of every place I had to send\nhim to, and talk a great deal to me; so that, in short, I began now to\nhave some use for my tongue again, which indeed I had very little\noccasion for before; that is to say, about speech. Besides the pleasure\nof talking to him, I had a singular satisfaction in the fellow himself;\nhis simple unfeigned honesty appeared to me more and more every day, and\nI began really to love the creature; and on his side, I believe, he\nloved me more than it was possible for him ever to love any\nthing before.\nI had a mind once to try if he had any hankering inclination to his own\ncountry again; and having learnt him English so well, that he could\nanswer me almost any questions, I asked him, whether the nation that he\nbelonged to never conquered in battle? At which he smiled, and said,\n\u201cYes, yes, we always fight the better;\u201d that is, he meant, always get\nthe better in fight; and so we began the following discourse. \u201cYou\nalways fight the better!\u201d said I: \u201chow came you to be taken prisoner\nthen, Friday?\u201d\n_Friday._ My nation beat much for all that.\n_Master_. How beat? if your nation beat them, how came you to be taken?\n_Friday_. They more than my nation in the place where me was; they take\none, two, three, and me: my nation over-beat them in the yonder place,\nwhere me no was; there my nation take one two great thousand.\n_Master_. But why did not your side recover you from the hands of your\nenemies then?\n_Friday_. They run one, two, three, and me, and make go in the canoe; my\nnation have no canoe that time.\n_Master_. Well, Friday, and what does your nation do with the men they\ntake? Do they carry them away, and eat them as these did?\n_Friday._ Yes, my nation eat mans too, eat all up.\n_Master_. Where do they carry them?\n_Friday_. Go to other place where they think.\n_Master_. Do they come hither?\n_Friday_. Yes, yes, they come hither; come other else place.\n_Master_. Have you been here with them?\n_Friday_. Yes, I been here [points to the N.W. side of the island,\nwhich, it seems, was their side.]\nBy this I understood, that my man Friday had formerly been among the\nsavages, who used to come on shore on the farther part of the island, on\nthe said man eating occasions that he was now brought for; and some time\nafter, when I took the courage to carry him to that side, being the same\nI formerly mentioned, he presently knew the place, and told me, he was\nthere once when they ate up twenty men, two women, and one child: he\ncould not tell twenty in English, but he numbered them by laying so many\nstones in a row, and pointing to me to tell them over.\nI have told this passage, because it introduces what follows; that after\nI had had this discourse with him, I asked him, how far it was from our\nisland to the shore, and whether the canoes were not often lost? He told\nme there was no danger, no canoes ever lost; but that after a little way\nout to sea, there was a current, and a wind always one way in the\nmorning, the other in the afternoon.\nThis I understand to be no more than the sets of the tide, as going out,\nor coming in; but I afterwards understood it was occasioned by the great\ndraught and reflux of the mighty river Oroonoque; in the mouth of which\nriver, as I thought afterwards, our island lay; and that this land,\nwhich I perceived to the W. and N.W. was the great island Trinidad, on\nthe north point of the mouth of the river. I asked Friday a thousand\nquestions about the country, the inhabitants, the sea, the coast, and\nwhat nations were near: he told me all he knew with the greatest\nopenness imaginable. I asked him the names of the several nations of his\nsort of people, but could get no other name than Caribs; from whence I\neasily understood, that these were the Caribees, which our maps place on\nthat part of America which reaches from the mouth of the river Oroonoque\nto Guinea, and onwards to St. Martha. He told me, that up a great way\nbeyond the moon, that was, beyond the setting of the moon, which must be\nW. from their country, there dwelt white-bearded men, like me, and\npointed to my great whiskers, which I mentioned before; and that they\nhad killed much mans, that was his word: by which I understood he meant\nthe Spaniards, whose cruelties in America had been spread over the whole\ncountries, and were remembered by all the nations from father to son.\nI inquired if he could tell me how I might come from this island, and\nget among those white men; he told me, Yes, yes, I might go in two\ncanoe; I could not understand what he meant by two canoe; till at last,\nwith great difficulty, I found he meant, that it must be in a large\ngreat boat as big as two canoes.\nThis part of Friday\u2019s discourse began to relish with me very well; and\nfrom this time I entertained some hopes, that one time or other I might\nfind an opportunity to make my escape from this place, and that this\npoor savage might be a means to help me to do it.\nDuring the long time that Friday had now been with me, and that he began\nto speak to me, and understand me, I was not wanting to lay a foundation\nof religious knowledge in his mind; particularly I asked him one time,\nWho made him? The poor creature did not understand me at all, but\nthought I had asked who was his father: but I took it by another handle,\nand asked him, Who made the sea, the ground he walked on, and the hills\nand woods? He told me, it was one old Benamuckee that lived beyond all:\nhe could describe nothing of this great person, but that he was very\nold; much older, he said, than the sea or the land, than the moon or the\nstars. I asked him then, if this old person had made all things, why did\nnot all things worship him? He looked very grave, and with a perfect\nlook of innocence said, All things said O! to him. I asked him, if the\npeople who die in his country, went away any where? He said, Yes, they\nall went to Benamuckee. Then I asked him, whether those they ate up,\nwent thither too? he said, Yes.\nFrom these things I began to instruct him in the knowledge of the true\nGod. I told him, that the great Maker of all things lived there,\npointing up towards heaven; that he governs the world by the same power\nand providence by which he made it; that he was omnipotent, could do\nevery thing for us, give every thing to us, take every thing from us:\nand thus, by degrees, I opened his eyes. He listened with great\nattention, and received with pleasure the notion of Jesus Christ being\nsent to redeem us, and of the manner of making our prayers to God, and\nhis being able to hear us, even into heaven: he told me one day, that if\nour God could hear us up beyond the sun, he must needs be a greater God\nthan their Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off, and yet could not\nhear, till they went up to the great mountains, where he dwelt, to speak\nto him. I asked him, if ever he went thither to speak to him? He said,\nNo, they never went that were young men; none went thither but the old\nmen; whom he called their Oowookakee, that is, as I made him explain it\nto me, their religious, or clergy; and that they went to say O! (so he\ncalled saying prayers,) and then came back, and told them what\nBenamuckee said. By this I observed, that there is priestcraft even\namongst the most blinded ignorant Pagans in the world; and the policy of\nmaking a secret religion, in order to preserve the veneration of the\npeople to the clergy, is not only to be found in the Roman, but perhaps\namong all religious in the world, even among the most brutish and\nbarbarous savages.\nI endeavoured to clear up this fraud to my man Friday; and told him,\nthat the pretence of their old men going up to the mountains to say O!\nto their god Benamuckee, was a cheat; and their bringing word from\nthence what he said, was much more so; that if they met with any answer,\nor spoke with any one there, it must be with an evil spirit: and then I\nentered into a long discourse with him about the devil, the original of\nhim, his rebellion against God, his enmity to man, the reason of it, his\nsetting himself up in the dark parts of the world to be worshipped\ninstead of God, and as God, and the many stratagems he made use of, to\ndelude mankind to their ruin; how he had a secret access to our passions\nand to our affections, to adapt his snares so to our inclinations, as to\ncause us even to be our own tempters, and to run upon our own\ndestruction by our own choice.\nI found it was not so easy to imprint right notions in his mind about\nthe devil, as it was about the being of a God: nature assisted all my\narguments to evidence to him even the necessity of a great First Cause,\nand over-ruling governing Power, a secret directing Providence, and of\nthe equity and justice of paying homage to Him that made us, and the\nlike: but there appeared nothing of all this in the notion of an evil\nspirit, of his original, his being, his nature, and, above all, of his\ninclination to do evil, and to draw us in to do so too: and the poor\ncreature puzzled me once in such a manner, by a question merely natural\nand innocent, that I scarce knew what to say to him. I had been talking\na great deal to him of the power of God, his omnipotence, his dreadful\naversion to sin, his being a consuming fire to the workers of iniquity;\nhow, as he had made as all, he could destroy us, and all the world, in\na moment; and he listened with great seriousness to me all the while.\nAfter this, I had been telling; him how the devil was God\u2019s enemy in the\nhearts of men, and used all his malice and skill to defeat the good\ndesigns of Providence, and to ruin the kingdom of Christ in the world,\nand the like: \u201cWell,\u201d says Friday, \u201cbut you say God is so strong, so\ngreat, is he not much strong, much might, as the devil?\u201d\u2014\u201cYes, yes,\u201d\nsaid I, Friday, \u201cGod is stronger than the devil, God is above the devil,\nand therefore we pray to God to tread him under our feet, and enable us\nto resist his temptations, and quench his fiery darts.\u201d\u2014\u201cBut,\u201d says he\nagain, \u201cif God much strong, much might, as the devil, why God not kill\nthe devil, so make him no more wicked?\u201d\nI was strangely surprised at his question; and after all, though I was\nnow an old man, yet I was but a young doctor, and ill enough qualified\nfor a casuist, or a solver of difficulties: and, at first, I could not\ntell what to say; so I pretended not to hear him, and asked him what he\nsaid; but he was too earnest for an answer to forget his question; so\nthat he repeated it in the very same broken words, as above. By this\ntime I had recovered myself a little, and I said, \u201cGod will at last\npunish him severely; he is reserved for the judgment, and is to be cast\ninto the bottomless pit, to dwell with everlasting fire.\u201d This did not\nsatisfy Friday; but he returns upon me, repeating my words, \u201cReserve at\nlast! me no understand: but why not kill the devil now, not kill great\nago?\u201d\u2014\u201cYou may as well ask me,\u201d said I, \u201cwhy God does not kill you and\nme, when we do wicked things here that offend him: we are preserved to\nrepent and be pardoned.\u201d He muses awhile at this; \u201cWell, well,\u201d says he,\nmighty affectionately, \u201cthat well; so you I, devil, all wicked, all\npreserve, repent, God pardon all.\u201d Here I was run down again by him to\nthe last degree, and it was a testimony to me, how the mere notions of\nnature, though they will guide reasonable creatures to the knowledge of\na God, and of a worship or homage due to the supreme being of God, as\nthe consequence of our nature; yet nothing but divine revelation can\nform the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and of a redemption purchased for\nus; of a Mediator; of a new covenant; and of an Intercessor at the\nfootstool of God\u2019s throne; I say, nothing but a revelation from Heaven\ncan form these in the soul; and that therefore the Gospel of our Lord\nand Saviour Jesus Christ, I mean the word of God, and the Spirit of God,\npromised for the guide and sanctifier of his people, are the absolutely\nnecessary instructors of the souls of men in the saving knowledge of\nGod, and the means of salvation.\nI therefore diverted the present discourse between me and my man, rising\nup hastily, as upon some sudden occasion of going out; then sending him\nfor some thing a great way off, I seriously prayed to God, that he would\nenable me to instruct savingly this poor savage, assisting, by his\nSpirit, the heart of the poor ignorant creature to receive the light of\nthe knowledge of God in Christ, reconciling him to himself, and would\nguide me to speak so to him from the word of God, as his conscience\nmight be convinced, his eyes opened, and his soul saved. When he came\nagain to me, I entered into a long discourse with him upon the subject\nof the redemption of man by the Saviour of the world, and of the\ndoctrine of the Gospel preached from Heaven, viz. of the repentance\ntowards God, and faith in our blessed Lord Jesus: I then explained to\nhim, as well as I could, why our blessed Redeemer took not on him the\nnature of angels, but the seed of Abraham, and how, for that reason, the\nfallen angels had no share in the redemption; that he came only to the\nlost sheep of the house of Israel, and the like.\nI had, God knows, more sincerity than knowledge, in all the methods I\ntook for this poor creature\u2019s instruction; and must acknowledge, what I\nbelieve all that act upon the same principle will find, that in laying\nthings open to him, I really informed and instructed myself in many\nthings that either I did not know, or had not fully considered before;\nbut which occurred naturally to my mind, upon my searching into them for\nthe information of this poor savage; and I had more affection in my\ninquiry after things upon this occasion, than ever I felt before; so\nthat whether this poor wild wretch was the better for me or no, I had\ngreat reason to be thankful that ever he came to me: my grief sat\nlighter upon me, my habitation grew comfortable to me beyond measure;\nand when I reflected, that in this solitary life, which I had been\nconfined to, I had not only been moved myself to look up to Heaven, and\nto seek to the Hand that brought me thither, but was now to be made an\ninstrument, under Providence, to save the life, and for aught I knew the\nsoul, of a poor savage, and bring him to the true knowledge of religion,\nand of the Christian doctrine, that he might know Christ Jesus, to know\nwhom is life eternal; I say, when I reflected upon all these things, a\nsecret joy ran through every part of my soul, and I frequently rejoiced\nthat ever I was brought to this place, which I had often thought the\nmost dreadful of all afflictions that could possibly have befallen me.\nIn this thankful frame I continued all the remainder of my time; and the\nconversation which employed the hours between Friday and me was such, as\nmade the three years which we lived there together perfectly and\ncompletely happy, if any such thing as complete happiness can be found\nin a sublunary state. The savage was now a good Christian, a much better\nthan I; though I have reason to hope, and bless God for it, that we were\nequally penitent, and comforted restored penitents: we had here the Word\nof God to read, and no farther off from his Spirit to instruct than if\nwe had been in England.\nI always applied myself to reading the Scripture, and to let him know as\nwell as I could the meaning of what I read; and he again, by his serious\ninquiries and questions, made me, as I said before, a much better\nscholar in the Scripture knowledge, than I should ever have been by my\nown private reading. Another thing I cannot refrain from observing here,\nalso from experience, in this retired part of my life; viz. how infinite\nand inexpressible a blessing it is, that the knowledge of God, and of\nthe doctrine of salvation by Christ Jesus, is so plainly laid down in\nthe Word of God, so easy to be received and understood, that as the bare\nreading the Scripture made me capable of understanding enough of my duty\nto carry me directly on to the great work of sincere repentance for my\nsins, and laying hold of a Saviour for life and salvation, to a stated\nreformation in practice, and obedience to all God\u2019s commands, and this\nwithout any teacher or instructor (I mean, human); so the plain\ninstruction sufficiently served to the enlightening this savage\ncreature, and bringing him to be such a Christian, as I have known few\nequal to him in my life.\nAs to the disputes, wranglings, strife, and contention, which has\nhappened in the world about religion, whether niceties in doctrines, or\nschemes of church-government, they were all perfectly useless to us, as,\nfor aught I can yet see, they have been to all the rest in the world: we\nhad the sure guide to heaven, viz. the Word of God; and we had, blessed\nbe God! comfortable views of the Spirit of God, teaching and instructing\nus by his Word, leading us into all truth, and making us both willing\nand obedient to His instruction of his Word; and I cannot see the least\nuse that the greatest knowledge of the disputed points in religion,\nwhich have made such confusions in the world, would have been to us, if\nwe could have obtained it. But I must go on with the historical part of\nthings, and take every part in its order.\nAfter Friday and I became more intimately acquainted, and that he could\nunderstand almost all I said to him, and speak fluently, though in\nbroken English, to me, I acquainted him with my own story, or at least\nso much of it as related to my coming into the place, how I had lived\nthere, and how long: I let him into the mystery (for such it was to him)\nof gunpowder and bullets, and taught him how to shoot: I gave him a\nknife, which he was wonderfully delighted with; and I made him a belt\nwith a frog hanging to it, such as in England we wear hangers in; and in\nthe frog, instead of a hanger, I gave him a hatchet, which was not only\nas good a weapon in some cases, but much more useful upon many\noccasions.\nI described to him the countries of Europe, and particularly England,\nwhich I came from; how we lived, how we worshipped God, how we behaved\nto one another, and how we traded in ships to all the parts of the\nworld. I gave him an account of the wreck which I had been on board of,\nand shewed him as near as I could, the place where she lay; but she was\nall beaten in pieces long before, and quite gone.\nI shewed him the ruins of our boat, which we lost when we escaped, and\nwhich I could not stir with my whole strength then, but was now fallen\nalmost all to pieces. Upon seeing this boat, Friday stood musing a great\nwhile, and said nothing; I asked him what it was he studied upon? At\nlast, says he, \u201cMe see such boat like come to place at my nation.\u201d\nI did not understand him a good while; but at last, when I had examined\nfurther into it, I understood by him, that a boat, such as that had\nbeen, came on shore upon the country where he lived; that is, as he\nexplained it, was driven thither by stress of weather. I presently\nimagined, that some European ship must have been cast away upon their\ncoast, and the boat might get loose, and drive ashore; but was so dull,\nthat I never once thought of men making escape from a wreck thither,\nmuch less whence they might come; so I only inquired after a description\nof the boat.\nFriday described the boat to me well enough; but brought me better to\nunderstand him, when he added, with some warmth, \u201cWe save the white mans\nfrom drown.\u201d Then I presently asked him, if there, were white mans, as\nhe called them, in the boat? \u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cthe boat full of white\nmans.\u201d I asked him, how many! he told upon his fingers seventeen. I\nasked him then, what became of them? he told me, \u201cThey live, they dwell\nat my nation.\u201d\nThis put new thoughts into my head again; for I presently imagined, that\nthese might be the men belonging to the ship that was cast away in sight\nof my island, as I now call it; and who, after the ship was struck on\nthe rock, and they saw her inevitably lost, had saved themselves in\ntheir boat, and were landed upon that wild shore among the savages.\nUpon this I inquired of him more critically, what was become of them? He\nassured me they lived still there, that they had been there about four\nyears, that the savages let them alone, and gave them victuals to live.\nI asked him, how it came to pass they did not kill them, and eat them?\nHe said, \u201cNo, they make brother with them:\u201d that is, as I understood\nhim, a truce: and then he added, \u201cThey eat no mans but when make the war\nfight:\u201d that is to say, they never eat any men, but such as come to\nfight with them, and are taken in battle.\nIt was after this, some considerable time, that being on the top of the\nhill, at the east side of the island, from whence, as I have said, I had\nin a clear day discovered the main or continent of America; Friday, the\nweather being very serene, looks very earnestly towards the main land,\nand in a kind of surprise falls a-jumping and dancing, and calls out to\nme, for I was at some distance from him: I asked him what was the\nmatter? \u201cO joy!\u201d says he, \u201cO glad! there see my country, there\nmy nation!\u201d\nI observed an extraordinary sense of pleasure appeared in his face, and\nhis eyes sparkled, and his countenance discovered a strange eagerness,\nas if he had a mind to be in his own country again; and this observation\nof mine put a great many thoughts into me; which made me at first not so\neasy about my new man Friday as I was before; and I made no doubt, but\nthat if Friday could get back to his own nation again, he would not\nonly forget all his religion, but all his obligations to me; and would\nbe forward enough to give his countrymen an account of me, and come\nback, perhaps, with an hundred or two of them, and make a feast upon me,\nat which he might be as merry as he used to be with those of his\nenemies, when they were taken in war.\nBut I wronged the poor honest creature very much, for which I was very\nsorry afterwards: however, as my jealousy increased, and held me some\nweeks, I was a little more circumspect, and not so familiar and kind to\nhim as before; in which I was certainly in the wrong too, the honest\ngrateful creature having no thought about it, but what consisted of the\nbest principles, both as a religious Christian and as a grateful friend,\nas appeared afterwards to my full satisfaction.\nWhilst my jealousy of him lasted, you may be sure I was every day\npumping him, to see if he would discover any of the new thoughts which I\nsuspected were in him; but I found every thing he said was so honest and\nso innocent, that I could find nothing to nourish my suspicion; and, in\nspite of all my uneasiness, he made me at last entirely his own again;\nnor did he in the least perceive that I was uneasy; and therefore I\ncould not suspect him of deceit.\nOne day, walking up the same hill, but the weather being hazy at sea, so\nthat we could not see the continent, I called to him, and said, \u201cFriday,\ndo not you wish yourself in your own country, your own nation\u201d\u2014\u201cYes,\u201d\nhe said, \u201cI be much O glad to be at my own nation.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhat would you do\nthere?\u201d said I: \u201cwould you turn wild again, eat men\u2019s flesh again, and\nbe a savage as you were before?\u201d He looked full of concern, and shaking\nhis head, said, \u201cNo, no, Friday tell them to live good; tell them to\npray God; tell them to eat corn-bread, cattle-flesh, milk, no eat man\nagain.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy, then,\u201d said I to him, \u201cthey will kill you.\u201d He looked\ngrave at that, and then said, \u201cNo, they no kill me, they willing love\nlearn:\u201d he meant by this, they would be willing to learn. He added,\nthey learnt much of the bearded mans that came in the boat. Then I asked\nhim, if he would go back to them? He smiled at that, and told me he\ncould not swim so far. I told him I would make a canoe for him. He told\nme he would go, if I would so with him. \u201cI go!\u201d said I, \u201cwhy, they will\neat me if I come there.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo, no,\u201d says he, \u201cme make them no eat you,\nme make they much love you:\u201d he meant he would tell them how I had\nkilled his enemies and saved his life, and so he would make them love\nme. Then he told me, as well as he could, how kind they were to\nseventeen white men, or bearded men, as he called them, who came on\nshore in distress.\nFrom this time, I confess, I had a mind to venture over, and see if I\ncould possibly join with these bearded men, who, I made no doubt, were\nSpaniards or Portuguese; not doubting but, if I could, we might find\nsome method to escape from thence, being upon the continent, and a good\ncompany together, better than I could from an island forty miles off the\nshore, and alone without help. So, after some days, I took Friday to\nwork again, by way of discourse; and told him, I would give him a boat\nto go back to his own nation; and accordingly I carried him to my\nfrigate, which lay on the other side of the island; and having cleared\nit of water (for I always kept it sunk in the water), I brought it out,\nshewed it him, and we both went into it.\nI found he was a most dexterous fellow at managing it, would make it go\nalmost as swift and fast again as I could; so when he was in, I said to\nhim, \u201cWell, now, Friday, shall we go to your nation?\u201d He looked very\ndull at my saying so, which, it seems, was because he thought the boat\ntoo small to go so far. I told him then I had a bigger; so the next day\nI went to the place where the first boat lay which I had made, but which\nI could not get into the water; he said that was big enough; but then,\nas I had taken no care of it, and it had lain two or three and twenty\nyears there, the sun had split and dried it, that it was in a manner\nrotten. Friday told me, such a boat would do very well, and would carry\n\u201cmuch enough vittle, drink, bread:\u201d that was his way of talking.\nUpon the whole, I was by this time so fixed upon my design of going over\nwith him to the continent, that I told him we would go and make one as\nbig as that, and he should go home in it. He answered not one word, but\nlooked very, grave and sad. I asked him, what was the matter with him?\nHe asked me again thus, \u201cWhy you angry mad with Friday? what me done?\u201d I\nasked him, what he meant? I told him I was not angry with him at all:\n\u201cNo angry! no angry!\u201d says he, repeating the words several times, \u201cwhy\nsend Friday home away to my nation?\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201cFriday, did you\nnot say you wished you were there?\u201d\u2014\u201cYes, yes,\u201d says he, \u201cwish be both\nthere; no wish Friday there, no master there.\u201d In a word, he would not\nthink of going there without me. \u201cI go there, Friday!\u201d said I; \u201cwhat\nshould I do there?\u201d He turned very quick upon me at this; \u201cYou do great\ndeal much good,\u201d says he; \u201cyou teach wild mans be good, sober, tame\nmans; you tell them know God, pray God, and live new life.\u201d\u2014\u201cAlas,\nFriday,\u201d said I, \u201cthou knowest not what thou sayest; I am but an\nignorant man myself.\u201d\u2014\u201cYes, yes,\u201d says he, \u201cyou teechee me good, you\nteechee them good.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo, no, Friday,\u201d said I, \u201cyou shall go without me;\nleave me here to live by myself, as I did before.\u201d He looked confused\nagain at that word, and running to one of the hatchets which he used to\nwear, he takes it up hastily, and gives it me. \u201cWhat must I do with\nthis?\u201d said I to him. \u201cYou take kill Friday,\u201d says he. \u201cWhat must I kill\nyou for?\u201d said I again, He returns very quick, \u201cWhat you send Friday\naway for? Take kill Friday, no send Friday away.\u201d This he spoke so\nearnestly, that I saw tears stand in his eyes. In a word, I so plainly\ndiscovered the utmost affection in him to me, and a firm resolution in\nhim, that I told him then, and often after, that I would never send him\naway from me, if he was willing to stay with me.\nUpon the whole, as I found by all his discourse a settled affection to\nme, and that nothing should part him from me, so I found all the\nfoundation of his desire to go to his own country was laid in his ardent\naffection to the people, and his hopes of my doing them good; a thing,\nwhich as I had no notion of myself, so I had not the least thought, or\nintention, or desire of undertaking it. But still I found a strong\ninclination to my attempting an escape, as above, founded on the\nsupposition gathered from the former discourse; viz. that there were\nseventeen bearded men there; and therefore, without any delay, I went to\nwork with Friday, to find out a great tree proper to fell, and make a\nlarge periagua or canoe, to under take the voyage: there were trees\nenough in the island to have built a little fleet, not of periaguas and\ncanoes only, but even of good large vessels: but the main thing I looked\nat, was to get one so near the water, that we might launch it when it\nwas made, to avoid the mistake I committed at first.\nAt last Friday pitched upon a tree; for I found he knew much better than\nI what kind of wood was fittest for it; nor can I tell to this day what\nwood to call the tree we cut down, except that it was very like the tree\nwe call tustick, or between that and the Nicaragua wood, for it was much\nof the same colour and smell. Friday was for burning the hollow or\ncavity of this tree out, to make it into a boat: but I shewed him how\nrather to cut it out with tools, which after I shewed him how to use, he\ndid very handily; and in about a month\u2019s hard labour we finished it, and\nmade it very handsome, especially, when, with our axes, which I shewed\nhim how to handle, we cut and hewed the outside into the true shape of a\nboat; after this, however, it cost us near a fortnight\u2019s time to get her\nalong, as it were inch by inch, upon great rollers, into the water: but\nwhen she was in, she would have carried twenty men with great ease.\nWhen she was in the water, and though she was so big, it amazed me to\nsee with what dexterity and how swift my man Friday could manage her,\nturn her, and paddle her along; so I asked him if he would, and if we\nmight venture over in her? \u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201che venture over in her very\nwell, though great blow wind.\u201d However, I had a farther design that he\nknew nothing of, and that was, to make a mast and sail, and to fit her\nwith an anchor and cable. As to a mast, that was easy enough to get; so\nI pitched upon a straight young cedar-tree, which I found near the\nplace, and which there was a great plenty of in the island; and I set\nFriday to work to cut it down, and gave him directions how to shape and\norder it: but as to the sail, that was my particular care; I knew I had\nold sails, or rather pieces of old sails enough; but as I had had them\nnow twenty-six years by me, and had not been very careful to preserve\nthem, not imagining that I should ever have this kind of use for them, I\ndid not doubt but they were all rotten; and indeed most of them were so;\nhowever, I found two pieces which appeared pretty good, and with these I\nwent to work, and with a great deal of pains, and awkward tedious\nstitching (you may be sure) for want of needles, I at length made a\nthree-cornered ugly thing, like what we call in England a\nshoulder-of-mutton sail, to go with a boom at bottom, and a little short\nsprit at the top, such as usually our ships\u2019 long-boats sail with, and\nsuch as I best knew how to manage; because it was such a one as I used\nin the boat in which I made my escape from Barbary, as related in the\nfirst part of my story.\nI was near two months performing this last work, viz. rigging and\nfitting my mast and sails; for I finished them very complete, making a\nsmall stay, and a sail or foresail to it, to assist, if we should turn\nto windward; and, which was more than all, I fixed a rudder to the stern\nof her, to steer with; and though I was but a bungling shipwright, yet\nas I knew the usefulness, and even necessity of such a thing, I applied\nmyself with so much pains to do it, that at last I brought it to pass,\nthough, considering the many dull contrivances I had for it that failed,\nI think it cost me almost as much labour as making the boat.\nAfter all this was done, I had my man Friday to teach as to what\nbelonged to the navigation of my boat; for though he knew very well how\nto paddle the canoe, he knew nothing what belonged to a sail and a\nrudder, and was the more amazed when he saw me work the boat to and\nagain in the sea by the rudder, and how the sail gibed, and filled this\nway or that way, as the course we sailed changed; I say, when he saw\nthis, he stood like one astonished and amazed: however, with a little\nuse, I made all these things familiar to him, and he became an expert\nsailor, except that as to the compass I could make him understand very\nlittle of that: on the other hand, as there was very little cloudy\nweather, and seldom or never any fogs in those parts, there was the less\noccasion for a compass, seeing the stars were always to be seen by\nnight, and the shore by day, except in the rainy seasons; and then\nnobody cared to stir abroad, either by land or sea.\nI was now entered on the seven-and-twentieth year of my captivity in\nthis place; though the three last years that I had this creature with\nme, ought rather to be left out of the account, my habitation being\nquite of another kind than in all the rest of my time. I kept the\nanniversary of my landing here with the same thankfulness to God for his\nmercies as at first; and if I had such cause of acknowledgment at first,\nI had much more so now, having such additional testimonies of the care\nof Providence over me, and the great hopes I had of being effectually\nand speedily delivered; for I had an invincible impression upon my\nthoughts, that my deliverance was at hand, and that I should not be\nanother year in this place. However, I went on with my husbandry,\ndigging, planting, and fencing, as usual; I gathered and cured my\ngrapes, and did every necessary thing, as before.\nThe rainy season was in the mean time upon me, when I kept more within\ndoors than at other times; so I had stowed our new vessel as secure as\nwe could, bringing her up into the creek, where, as I said in the\nbeginning, I landed my rafts from the ship; and haling her up to the\nshore, at high water mark, I made my man Friday dig a little dock, just\nbig enough for her to float in; and then, when the tide was out, we made\na strong dam cross the end of it, to keep the water out; and so she lay\ndry, as to the tide, from the sea; and to keep the rain off, we laid a\ngreat many boughs of trees so thick, that she was as well thatched as a\nhouse; and thus we waited for the months of November and December, in\nwhich I designed to make my adventure.\nWhen the settled season began to come in, as the thought of my design\nreturned with the fair weather, I was preparing daily for the voyage;\nand the first thing I did was to lay up a certain quantity of provision,\nbeing the store for the voyage; and intended, in a week or a fortnight\u2019s\ntime, to open the dock, and launch out our boat. I was busy one morning\nupon something of this kind, when I called to Friday, and bid him go to\nthe sea-shore, and see if he could find a turtle or tortoise, a thing\nwhich we generally got once a week, for the sake of the eggs, as well as\nthe flesh. Friday had not been long gone, when he came running back, and\nflew over my outward wall, or fence, like one that felt not the ground,\nor the steps he set his feet on; and before I had time to speak to him,\nhe cried out to me, \u201cO master! O master! O sorrow! O bad!\u201d\u2014\u201cWhat\u2019s the\nmatter, Friday?\u201d said I. \u201cO yonder there,\u201d says he, \u201cone, two, three,\ncanoe! one, two, three!\u201d By this way of speaking I concluded there were\nsix; but on inquiry I found there were but three. \u201cWell, Friday,\u201d said\nI, \u201cdo not be frighted;\u201d so I heartened him up as well as I could.\nHowever, I saw the poor fellow most terribly scared; for nothing ran in\nhis head, but that they were come to look for him, and would cut him in\npieces, and eat him; the poor fellow trembled so, that I scarce knew\nwhat to do with him; I comforted him as well as I could, and told him I\nwas in as much danger as he, and that they would eat me as well as him.\n\u201cBut,\u201d said I, \u201cFriday, we must resolve to fight them: can you fight,\nFriday?\u201d \u201cMe shoot,\u201d says he, \u201cbut there come many great number.\u201d \u201cNo\nmatter for that,\u201d said I again; \u201cour guns will fright them that we do\nnot kill.\u201d So I asked him, whether, if I resolved to defend him, he\nwould defend me, and stand by me, and do just as I bade him? He said,\n\u201cMe die, when you bid die, master;\u201d so I went and fetched a good dram of\nrum, and gave him; for I had been so good a husband of my rum, that I\nhad a great deal left. When he had drank it, I made him take the two\nfowling-pieces which we always carried, and load them with large\nswan-shot as big as small pistol bullets; then I took four muskets, and\nloaded them with two slugs and five small bullets each; and my two\npistols I loaded with a brace of bullets each: I hung my great sword, as\nusual, naked by my side, and gave Friday his hatchet.\nWhen I had thus prepared myself, I took my perspective-glass, and went\nup to the side of the hill, to see what I could discover; and I found\nquickly, by my glass, that there were one and twenty savages, three\nprisoners, and three canoes; and that their whole business seemed to be\nthe triumphant banquet upon these three human bodies; a barbarous feast\nindeed, but nothing more than as I had observed was usual with them.\nI observed also, that they were landed, not where they had done when\nFriday made his escape, but nearer to my creek, where the shore was low,\nand where a thick wood came close almost down to the sea: this, with the\nabhorrence of the inhuman errand these wretches came about, so filled me\nwith indignation, that I came down again to Friday, and told him, I was\nresolved to go down to them, and kill them all; and asked him if he\nwould stand by me. He was now gotten over his fright, and his spirits\nbeing a little raised with the dram I had given him, he was very\ncheerful; and told me, as before, he would die when I bid die.\nIn this fit of fury, I took first and divided the arms which I had\ncharged, as before, between us: I gave Friday one pistol to stick in his\ngirdle, and three guns upon his shoulder; and I took one pistol, and the\nother three, myself; and in this posture we marched out. I took a small\nbottle of rum in my pocket, and gave Friday a large bag with more powder\nand bullet; and as to orders, I charged him to keep close behind me, and\nnot to stir, shoot, or do any thing till I bid him; and in the mean\ntime, not to speak a word. In this posture I fetched a compass to my\nright hand of near a mile, as well to get over the creek as to get into\nthe wood; so that I might come within shot of them before I could be\ndiscovered, which I had seen by my glass it was easy to do.\nWhile I was making this march, my former thoughts returning, I began to\nabate my resolution; I do not mean, that I entertained any fear of their\nnumber; for as they were naked, unarmed wretches, it is certain I was\nsuperior to them; nay, though I had been alone: but it occurred to my\nthoughts, what call, what occasion, much less what necessity, I was in\nto go and dip my hands in blood, to attack people who had neither done\nor intended me any wrong, who, as to me, were innocent, and whose\nbarbarous customs were their own disaster, being in them a token indeed\nof God\u2019s having left them, with the other nations of that part of the\nworld, to such stupidity and to such inhuman courses; but did not call\nme to take upon me to be a judge of their actions, much less an\nexecutioner of his justice; that whenever he thought fit, he would take\nthe cause into his own hands, and by national vengeance punish them for\nnational crimes; but that in the mean time, it was none of my business;\nthat it was true, Friday might justify it, because he was a declared\nenemy, and in a state of war with those very particular people, and it\nwas lawful for him to attack them; but I could not say the same with\nrespect to me. These things were so warmly pressed upon my thoughts all\nthe way as I went, that I resolved I would only go place myself near\nthem, that I might observe their barbarous feast, and that I would act\nthen as God should direct; but that unless something offered that was\nmore a call to me than yet I knew of, I would not meddle with them.\nWith this resolution I entered the wood, and with all possible wariness\nand silence (Friday following close at my heels) I marched till I came\nto the skirt of the wood, on the side which was next to them; only that\none corner of the wood lay between me and them: here I called softly to\nFriday, and shewing him a great tree, which was just at the corner of\nthe wood, I bade him go to the tree, and bring me word if he could see\nthere plainly what they were doing: he did so, and came immediately back\nto me, and told me they might be plainly viewed there; that they were\nall about the fire, eating the flesh of one of their prisoners; and that\nanother lay bound upon the sand, a little from them, whom he said they\nwould kill next, and which fired the very soul within me. He told me, it\nwas not one of their nation, but one of the bearded men whom he had told\nme of, who came to their country in the boat. I was filled with horror\nat the very naming the white-bearded man, and, going to the tree, I saw\nplainly, by my glass, a white man, who lay upon the beach of the sea,\nwith his hands and his feet tied with flags, or things like rushes; and\nthat he was an European, and had clothes on.\nThere was another tree, and a little thicket beyond it, about fifty\nyards nearer to them than the place where I was, which, by going a\nlittle way about, I saw I might come at undiscovered, and that then I\nshould be within half-shot of them; so I withheld my passion, though I\nwas indeed enraged to the highest degree; and going back about twenty\npaces, I got behind some bushes, which held all the way till I came to\nthe other tree, and then I came to a little rising ground, which gave me\na full view of them, at the distance of about eighty yards.\nI had now not a moment to lose; for nineteen of the dreadful wretches\nsat upon the ground all close huddled together, and had just sent the\nother two to butcher the poor Christian, and bring him, perhaps limb by\nlimb, to their fire; and they were stooped down to untie the bands at\nhis feet. I turned to Friday; \u201cNow, Friday,\u201d said I, \u201cdo as I bid thee.\u201d\nFriday said, he would. \u201cThen, Friday,\u201d said I, \u201cdo exactly as you see me\ndo; fail in nothing.\u201d So I set down one of the muskets and the\nfowling-piece upon the ground, and Friday did the like by his; and with\nthe other musket I took my aim at the savages, bidding him do the like.\nThen asking him if he was ready, he said, \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cThen fire at them,\u201d\nsaid I; and the same moment I fired also.\nFriday took his aim so much better than I, that on the side that he\nshot, he killed two of them, and wounded three more; and on my side, I\nkilled one, and wounded two. They were, you may be sure, in a dreadful\nconsternation; and all of them, who were not hurt, jumped up upon their\nfeet immediately, but did not know which way to run, or which way to\nlook; for they knew not from whence their destruction came. Friday kept\nhis eyes close upon me, that, as I had bid him, he might observe what I\ndid; so as soon as the first shot was made, I threw down the piece, and\ntook up the fowling-piece, and Friday did the like; he sees me cock, and\npresent; he did the same again. \u201cAre you ready, Friday?\u201d said I. \u201cYes,\u201d\nsays he. \u201cLet fly then,\u201d said I, \u201cin the name of God;\u201d and with that I\nfired again among the amazed wretches, and so did Friday; and as our\npieces were now loaden with what I call swan shot, or small\npistol-bullets, we found only two drop; but so many were wounded, that\nthey ran about yelling and screaming like mad creatures, all bloody, and\nmiserably wounded most of them; whereof three more fell quickly after,\nthough not quite dead.\n\u201cNow, Friday,\u201d said I, laying down the discharged pieces, and taking up\nthe musket, which was yet loaden, \u201cfollow me,\u201d said I; which he did,\nwith a deal of courage; upon which I rushed, out of the wood, and shewed\nmyself, and Friday close at my foot: as soon as I perceived they saw me,\nI shouted as loud as I could, and bade Friday do so too; and running as\nfast as I could, which by the way was not very fast, being loaded with\narms as I was, I made directly towards the poor victim, who was, as I\nsaid, lying upon the beach, or shore, between the place where they sat\nand the sea; the two butchers, who were just going to work with him, had\nleft him, at the surprise of our first fire, and fled in a terrible\nfright to the sea-side, and had jumped into a canoe, and three more of\nthe rest made the same way: I turned to Friday, and bade him step\nforwards, and fire at them; he understood me immediately, and running\nabout forty yards to be near them, he shot at them, and I thought he had\nkilled them all; for I saw them all fall on an heap into the boat;\nthough I saw two of them up again quickly: however, he killed two of\nthem, and wounded the third, so that he lay down in the bottom of the\nboat, as if he had been dead.\nWhile my man Friday fired at them, I pulled out my knife, and cut the\nflags that bound the poor victim; and loosing his hands and feet I\nlifted him up, and asked him in the Portuguese tongue, what he was? He\nanswered in Latin, _Christianus;_ but was so weak and faint, that he\ncould scarce stand, or speak; I took my bottle out of my pocket, and\ngave it him, making signs that he should drink, which he did; and I gave\nhim a piece of bread, which he ate; then I asked him, what countryman he\nwas? and he said, _Espagnole_; and, being a little recovered, let me\nknow, by all the signs he could possibly make, how much he was in my\ndebt for his deliverance. \u201cSeignior,\u201d said I, with as much Spanish as I\ncould make up, \u201cwe will talk afterwards, but we must fight now: if you\nhave any strength left, take this pistol and sword, and lay about you.\u201d\nHe took them very thankfully, and no sooner had he the arms in his\nhands, but as if they had put new vigour into him, he flew upon his\nmurderers like a fury, and had cut two of them in pieces in an instant;\nfor the truth is, as the whole was a surprise to them, so the poor\ncreatures were so much frighted with the noise of our pieces, that they\nfell down for mere amazement and fear, and had no more power to attempt\ntheir own escape, than their flesh had to resist our shot; and that was\nthe case of those five that Friday shot in the boat; for as three of\nthem fell with the hurt they received, so the other two fell with\nthe fright.\nI kept my piece in my hand still, without firing, being willing to keep\nmy charge ready, because I had given the Spaniard my pistol and sword;\nso I called to Friday, and bade him run up to the tree from whence we\nfirst fired, and fetch the arms which lay there, that had been\ndischarged, which he did with great swiftness; and then giving him my\nmusket, I sat down myself to load all the rest again, and bade them come\nto me when they wanted. While I was loading these pieces, there happened\na fierce engagement between the Spaniard and one of the savages, who\nmade at him with one of their great wooden swords, the same weapon that\nwas to have killed him before, if I had not prevented it: the Spaniard,\nwho was as bold and as brave as could be imagined, though weak, had\nfought this Indian a good while, and had cut him two great wounds on his\nhead; but the savage, being a stout lusty fellow, closing in with him,\nhad thrown him down, (being faint) and was wringing my sword out of his\nhand, when the Spaniard, though undermost, wisely quitting his sword,\ndrew the pistol from his girdle, shot the savage through the body, and\nkilled him upon the spot, before I, who was running to help, could\ncome near him.\nFriday, being now left at his liberty, pursued the flying wretches with\nno weapon in his hand but his hatchet; and with that he dispatched those\nthree, who, as I said before, were wounded at first, and fallen, and all\nthe rest he could come up with; and the Spaniard coming to me for a gun,\nI gave him one of the fowling-pieces, with which he pursued two of the\nsavages, and wounded them both; but as he was not able to run, they both\ngot from him into the wood, where Friday pursued them, and killed one of\nthem; but the other was too nimble for him; and though he was wounded,\nyet he plunged into the sea, and swam with all his might off to those\nwho were left in the canoe; which three in the canoe, with one wounded,\nwho we know not whether he died or no, were all that escaped our hands\nof one-and-twenty. The account of the rest is as follows:\n     3 Killed at our shot from the tree.\n     2 Killed at the next shot.\n     2 Killed by Friday in the boat.\n     2 Killed by ditto, of those at first wounded.\n     1 Killed by ditto, in the wood.\n     3 Killed by the Spaniard.\n     4 Killed, being found dropt here and there of their\n         wounds, or killed by Friday in his chase of\n     4 Escaped in the boat, whereof one wounded, if\nThose that were in the canoe worked hard to get out of gun-shot; and\nthough Friday made two or three shot at them, I did not find that he hit\nany of them: Friday would fain have had me take one of their canoes, and\npursue them; and indeed I was very anxious about their escape, lest,\ncarrying the news home to their people, they should come back, perhaps,\nwith two or three hundred of their canoes, and devour us by mere\nmultitudes; so I consented to pursue them by sea; and running to one of\ntheir canoes, I jumped in, and bade Friday follow me; but when I was in\nthe canoe, I was surprised to find another poor creature lie there\nalive, bound hand and foot, as the Spaniard was, for the slaughter, and\nalmost dead with fear, not knowing what the matter was; for he had not\nbeen able to look up over the side of the boat, he was tied so hard,\nneck and heels, and had been tied so long, that he had really little\nlife in him.\nI immediately cut the twisted flags, or rushes, which they had bound him\nwith, and would have helped him up; but he could not stand, or speak,\nbut groaned most piteously, believing, it seems still, that he was only\nunbound in order to be killed.\nWhen Friday came to him, I bade him speak to him, and tell him of his\ndeliverance; and pulling out my bottle, made him give the poor wretch a\ndram, which, with the news of his being delivered, revived him, and he\nsat up in the boat; but when Friday came to hear him speak, and looked\nin his face, it would have moved any one to tears, to have seen how\nFriday kissed him, embraced him, hugged him, cried, laughed, hallooed,\njumped about, danced, sung, then cried again, wrung his hands, beat his\nown face and head, and then sung and jumped about again like a\ndistracted creature. It was a good while before I could make him speak\nto me, or tell me what was the matter; but when he came a little to\nhimself, he told me that it was his father.\nIt was not easy for me to express how it moved me, to see what ecstasy\nand filial affection had worked in this poor savage, at the sight of his\nfather, and of his being delivered from death; nor indeed can I describe\nhalf the extravagances of his affection after this; for he went into the\nboat and out of the boat a great many times: when he went in to him, he\nwould sit down by him, open his breast, and hold his father\u2019s head\nclose to his bosom, half an hour together, to nourish it: then he took\nhis arms and ankles, which were numbed and stiff with the binding, and\nchafed and rubbed them with his hands; and I, perceiving what the case\nwas, gave him some rum out of my bottle to rub them with, which did them\na great deal of good.\nThis action put an end to our pursuit of the canoe with the other\nsavages, who were now gotten almost out of sight; and it was happy for\nus that we did not; for it blew so hard within two hours after, and\nbefore they could be gotten a quarter of their way, and continued\nblowing so hard all night, and that from the north-west, which was\nagainst them, that I could not suppose their boat could live, or that\nthey ever reached to their own coast.\nBut to return to Friday: he was so busy about his father, that I could\nnot find in my heart to take him off for some time: but after I thought\nhe could leave him a little, I called him to me, and he came jumping and\nlaughing, and pleased to the highest extreme. Then I asked him, if he\nhad given his father any bread? He shook his head, and said, \u201cNone: ugly\ndog eat all up self.\u201d So I gave him a cake of bread out of a little\npouch I carried on purpose; I also gave him a dram for himself, but he\nwould not taste it, but carried it to his father: I had in my pocket\nalso two or three bunches of my raisins, so I gave him a handful of them\nfor his father. He had no sooner given his father these raisins, but I\nsaw him come out of the boat, and run away as if he had been bewitched.\nHe ran at such a rate (for he was the swiftest fellow of his feet that\never I saw)\u2014I say, he ran at such a rate, that he was out of sight, as\nit were, in an instant; and though I called and hallooed too after him,\nit was all one; away he went, and in a quarter of an hour I saw him come\nback again, though not so fast as he went; and as he came nearer, I\nfound his pace was slacker, because he had something in his hand.\nWhen he came up to me, I found he had been quite home for an earthen\njug, or pot, to bring his father some fresh water; and that he had get\ntwo more cakes or loaves of bread. The bread he gave me, but the water\nhe carried to his father: however, as I was very thirsty too, I took a\nlittle sip of it: this water revived his father more than all the rum or\nspirits I had given him; for he was just fainting with thirst.\nWhen his father had drank, I called him, to know if there was any water\nleft? he said, \u201cYes;\u201d and I bade him give it to the poor Spaniard, who\nwas in as much want of it as his father; and I sent one of the cakes,\nthat Friday brought, to the Spaniard too, who was indeed very weak, and\nwas reposing himself upon a green place, under the shade of a tree, and\nwhose limbs were also very stiff, and very much swelled with the rude\nbandage he had been tied with: when I saw that, upon Friday\u2019s coming to\nhim with the water, he sat up and drank, and took the bread, and began\nto eat, I went to him, and gave him a handful of raisins: he looked up\nin my face with all the tokens of gratitude and thankfulness that could\nappear in any countenance; but was so weak, notwithstanding he had so\nexerted himself in the fight, that he could not stand upon his feet; he\ntried to do it two or three times, but was really not able, his ankles\nwere so swelled and so painful to him; so I bade him sit still, and\ncaused Friday to rub his ankles, and bathe them with rum, as he had done\nhis father\u2019s.\nI observed the poor affectionate creature every two minutes, or perhaps\nless, all the while he was here, turned his head about, to see if his\nfather was in the same place and posture as he left him sitting; and at\nlast he found he was not to be seen; at which he started up, and,\nwithout speaking a word, flew with that swiftness to him, that one could\nscarce perceive his feet to touch the ground as he went: but when he\ncame, he only found he had laid himself down to ease his limbs: so\nFriday came back to me presently, and I then spoke to the Spaniard to\nlet Friday help him up, if he could, and load him to the boat, and then\nhe should carry him to our dwelling, where I would take care of him: but\nFriday, a lusty young fellow, took the Spaniard quite up upon his back,\nand carried him away to the boat, and set him down softly upon the side\nor gunnel of the canoe, with his feet in the inside of it, and then\nlifted them quite in, and set him close to his father, and presently\nstepping out again, launched the boat off, and paddled it along the\nshore faster than I could walk, though the wind blew pretty hard too; so\nhe brought them both safe into our creek; and leaving them in the boat,\nruns away to fetch the other canoe. As he passed me, I spoke to him, and\nasked him whither he went? He told me, \u201cGo fetch more boat;\u201d so away he\nwent, like the wind; for sure never man or horse ran like him, and he\nhad the other canoe in the creek almost as soon as I got to it by land;\nso he wafted me over, and then went to help our new guests out of the\nboat, which he did; but they were neither of them able to walk; so that\npoor Friday knew not what to do.\nTo remedy this, I went to work in my thought, and calling to Friday to\nbid them sit down on the bank while he came to me, I soon made a kind of\nhand-barrow to lay them on, and Friday and I carried them up both\ntogether upon it between us; but when we got them to the outside of our\nwall or fortification, we were at a worse loss than before; for it was\nimpossible to get them over; and I was resolved not to break it down: so\nI set to work again; and Friday and I, in about two hours time, made a\nvery handsome tent, covered with old sails, and above that with boughs\nof trees, being in the space without our outward fence, and between that\nand the grove of young wood which I had planted: and here we made two\nbeds of such things as I had; viz. of good rice-straw, with blankets\nlaid upon it to lie on, and another to cover them on each bed.\nMy island was now peopled, and I thought myself very rich in subjects;\nand it was a merry reflection which I frequently made, how like a king\nI looked: first of all, the whole country was my own mere property; so\nthat I had an undoubted right of dominion: 2dly, My people were\nperfectly subjected: I was absolute lord and lawgiver; they all owed\ntheir lives to me, and were ready to lay down their lives, if there had\nbeen occasion for it, for me: it was remarkable too, I had but three\nsubjects, and they were of three different religions. My man Friday was\na Protestant, his father a Pagan and a cannibal; and the Spaniard was a\nPapist: however, I allowed liberty of conscience throughout my\ndominions: but this by the way.\nAs soon as I had secured my two weak rescued prisoners, and given them\nshelter, and a place to rest them upon, I began to think of making some\nprovision for them; and the first thing I did, I ordered Friday to take\na yearling goat, betwixt a kid and a goat, out of my particular flock,\nto be killed: then I cut off the hind quarter, and, chopping it into\nsmall pieces, I set Friday to work to boiling and stewing, and made them\na very good dish, I assure you, of flesh and broth; having put some\nbarley and rice also into the broth; and as I cooked it without doors,\n(for I made no fire within my inner wall) so I carried it all into the\nnew tent; and having set a table there for them, I sat down and ate my\ndinner also with them; and, as well as I could, cheered them and\nencouraged them, Friday being my interpreter, especially to his father,\nand indeed to the Spaniard too; for the Spaniard spoke the language of\nthe savages pretty well.\nAfter we had dined, or rather supped, I ordered Friday to take one of\nthe canoes, and go and fetch our muskets and other fire-arms, which, for\nwant of time, we had left upon the place of battle; and the next day I\nordered him to go and bury the dead bodies of the savages, which lay\nopen to the sun, and, would presently be offensive; and I also ordered\nhim to bury the horrid remains of their barbarous feast, which I knew\nwere pretty much, and which I could not think of doing myself; nay, I\ncould not, bear to see them, if I went that way: all which he\npunctually performed, and defaced the very appearance of the savages\nbeing there; so that when I went again, I could scarce know where it\nwas, otherwise than by the corner of the wood pointing to the place.\nI then began to enter into a little conversation with my two new\nsubjects; and first I set Friday to inquire of his father, what he\nthought of the escape of the savages in that canoe? and whether he might\nexpect a return of them with a power too great for us to resist? His\nfirst opinion was, that the savages in the boat never could live out the\nstorm which blew that night they went off, but must of necessity be\ndrowned or driven south to those other shores, where they were as sure\nto be devoured, as they were to be drowned if they were cast away; but\nas to what they would do if they came safe on shore, he said, he knew\nnot; but it was his opinion, that they were so dreadfully frighted with\nthe manner of being attacked, the noise, and the fire, that he believed\nthey would tell their people they were all killed by thunder and\nlightning, and not by the hand of man; and that the two which appeared\n(viz. Friday and I) were two heavenly spirits or furies come down to\ndestroy them, and not men with weapons. This, he said, he knew, because\nhe heard them all cry out so in their language to one another; for it\nwas impossible for them to conceive that a man should dart fire, and\nspeak thunder, and kill at a distance, without lifting up the hand, as\nwas done now. And this old savage was in the right; for, as I understood\nsince by other hands, the savages of that part never attempted to go\nover to the island afterwards. They were so terrified with the accounts\ngiven by these four men, (for it seems they did escape the sea) that\nthey believed, whoever went to that enchanted island, would be destroyed\nwith fire from the gods.\nThis, however, I knew not, and therefore was under continual\napprehensions for a good while, and kept always upon my guard, I and all\nmy army; for as there were now four of us, I would have ventured a\nhundred of them fairly in the open field at any time.\nIn a little time, however, no more canoes appearing, the fear of their\ncoming wore off, and I began to take my former thoughts of a voyage to\nthe main into consideration, being likewise assured by Friday\u2019s father,\nthat I might depend upon good usage from their nation on his account, if\nI would go.\nBut my thoughts were a little suspended, when I had a serious discourse\nwith the Spaniard, and when I understood, that there were sixteen more\nof his countrymen and Portuguese, who having been cast away, and made\ntheir escape to that side, lived there at peace indeed with the savages,\nbut were very sore put to it for necessaries, and indeed for life: I\nasked him all the particulars of their voyage; and found they were a\nSpanish ship, bound from the Rio de la Plata to the Havanna, being\ndirected to leave their loading there, which was chiefly hides and\nsilver, and to bring back what European goods they could meet with\nthere; that they had five Portuguese seamen on board, whom they took out\nof another wreck; that five of their own men were drowned when first the\nship was lost; and that these escaped through infinite dangers and\nhazards, and arrived almost starved on the cannibal coast, where they\nexpected to have been devoured every moment.\nHe told me, they had some arms with them, but they were perfectly\nuseless, for that they had neither powder nor ball, the washing of the\nsea having spoiled all their powder, but a little which they used at\ntheir first landing to provide themselves some food.\nI asked him what he thought would become of them there; and if they had\nformed no design of making any escape? He said, they had many\nconsultations about it, but that having neither vessel, nor tools to\nbuild one, or provisions of any kind, their counsels always ended in\ntears and despair.\nI asked him, how he thought they would receive a proposal from me,\nwhich might tend towards an escape; and whether, if they were all here,\nit might not be done? I told him with freedom, I feared mostly their\ntreachery and ill usage of me, if I put my life in their hands; for that\ngratitude was no inherent virtue in the nature of man; nor did men\nalways square their dealings by the obligations they had received, so\nmuch as they did by the advantages they expected: I told him, it would\nbe very hard, that I should be the instrument of their deliverance, and\nthat they should afterwards make me their prisoner in New Spain, where\nan Englishman was certain to be made a sacrifice, what necessity, or\nwhat accident soever, brought him thither; and that I had rather be\ndelivered up to the savages, and be devoured alive, than fall into the\nmerciless claws of the priests, and be carried into the Inquisition. I\nadded, that otherwise I was persuaded, if they were all here, we might,\nwith so many hands, build a bark large enough to carry us all away\neither to the Brasils southward, or to the islands or Spanish coast\nnorthward: but that if in requital they should, when I had put weapons\ninto their hands, carry me by force among their own people, I might be\nill used for my kindness to them, and make my case worse than it\nwas before.\nHe answered, with a great deal of candour and ingenuity, that their\ncondition was so miserable, and they were so sensible of it, that he\nbelieved they would abhor the thought of using any man unkindly that\nshould contribute to their deliverance; and that, if I pleased, he would\ngo to them with the old man, and discourse with them about it, and\nreturn again, and bring me their answer: that he would make conditions\nwith them upon their solemn oath, that they would be absolutely under my\nleading, as their commander and captain; and that they should swear upon\nthe holy Sacraments and Gospel, to be true to me, and go to such\nChristian country as I should agree to, and no other; and to be directed\nwholly and absolutely by my orders, till they were landed safely in\nsuch country as I intended; and that he would bring a contract from\nthem under their hands for that purpose.\nThen he told me, he would first swear to me himself, that he would never\nstir from me as long as he lived, till I gave him order; and that he\nwould take my side to the last drop of blood, if there should happen the\nleast breach of faith among his countrymen.\nHe told me, they were all of them very civil honest men, and they were\nunder the greatest distress imaginable, having neither weapons or\nclothes, nor any food, but at the mercy and discretion of the savages;\nout of all hopes of ever returning to their own country: and that he was\nsure, if I would undertake their relief, they would live and die by me.\nUpon these assurances, I resolved to venture to relieve them, if\npossible, and to send the old savage and the Spaniard over to them to\ntreat: but when he had gotten all things in readiness to go, the\nSpaniard himself started an objection, which had so much prudence in it\non one hand, and so much sincerity on the other hand, that I could not\nbut be very well satisfied in it; and, by his advice, put off the\ndeliverance of his comrades for at least half a year. The case was thus:\nHe had been with us now about a month; during which time I had let him\nsee in what manner I had provided, with the assistance of Providence,\nfor my support; and he saw evidently what stock of corn and rice I had\nlaid up; which, as it was more, than sufficient for myself, so it was\nnot sufficient, at least without good husbandry, for my family, now it\nwas increased to number four: but much less would it be sufficient, if\nhis countrymen, who were, as he said, fourteen still alive, should come\nover; and least of all would it be sufficient to victual our vessel, if\nwe should build one, for a voyage to any of the Christian colonies of\nAmerica. So he told me, he thought it would be more adviseable, to let\nhim and the other two dig and cultivate some more land, as much as I\ncould spare seed to sow; and that we should wait another harvest, that\nwe might have a supply of corn for his countrymen when they should come;\nfor want might be a temptation to them to disagree, or not to think\nthemselves delivered, otherwise than out of one difficulty into another:\n\u201cYou know,\u201d says he, \u201cThe children of Israel, though they rejoiced at\nfirst at their being delivered out of Egypt, yet rebelled even against\nGod himself, that delivered them, when they came to want bread in the\nwilderness.\u201d\nHis caution was so seasonable, and his advice so good, that I could not\nbut be very well pleased with his proposal, as well as I was satisfied\nwith his fidelity. So we fell to digging, all four of us, as well as the\nwooden tools we were furnished with permitted; and in about a month\u2019s\ntime, by the end of which it was seed time, we had gotten as much land\ncured and trimmed up as we sowed twenty-two bushels of barley on, and\nsixteen jars of rice, which was, in short, all the seed we had to spare;\nnor indeed did we leave ourselves barley sufficient for our own food for\nthe six months that we had to expect our crop, that is to say, reckoning\nfrom the time we set our seed aside for sowing; for it is not to be\nsupposed it is six months in the ground in that country.\nHaving now society enough, and our number being sufficient to put us out\nof fear of the savages, if they had come, unless their number had been\nvery great, we went freely all over the island, wherever we found\noccasion; and as here we had our escape or deliverance upon our\nthoughts, it was impossible, at least for me, to have the means of it\nout of mine; to this purpose, I marked out several trees, which I\nthought fit for our work, and I set Friday and his father to cutting\nthem down; and then I caused the Spaniard, to whom I imparted my\nthoughts on that affair, to oversee and direct their work: I showed them\nwith what indefatigable pains I had hewed a large tree into single\nplanks, and I caused them to do the like, till they had about a dozen\nlarge planks of good oak, near two feet broad, thirty-five feet long,\nand from two inches to four inches thick: what prodigious labour it took\nup, any one may imagine.\nAt the same time I contrived to increase my little flock of tame goats\nas much as I could; and to this purpose I made Friday and the Spaniard\nto go out one day, and myself with Friday, the next day, for we took our\nturns: and by this means we got about twenty young kids to breed up with\nthe rest; for whenever we shot the dam, we saved the kids, and added\nthem to our flock: but above all, the season for curing the grapes\ncoming on, I caused such a prodigious quantity to be hung up in the sun,\nthat I believe, had we been at Alicant, where the raisins of the sun are\ncured, we should have filled sixty or eighty barrels; and these, with\nour bread, was a great part of our food, and very good living too, I\nassure you; for it is an exceeding nourishing food.\nIt was now harvest, and our crop in good order; it was not the most\nplentiful increase I had seen in the island, but, however, it was enough\nto answer our end; for from twenty two bushels of barley, we brought in\nand threshed out above two hundred and twenty bushels, and the like in\nproportion of the rice, which was store enough for our food to the next\nharvest, though all the sixteen Spaniards had been on shore with me; or,\nif we had been ready for a voyage, it would very plentifully have\nvictualled our ship, to have carried us to any part of the world, that\nis to say, of America. When we had thus housed and secured our magazine\nof corn, we fell to work to make more wicker-work; viz., great baskets,\nin which we kept it; and the Spaniard was very handy and dexterous at\nthis part, and often blamed me, that I did not make some things for\ndefence of this kind of work; but I saw no need of it. And now having a\nfull supply of food for all the guests expected, I gave the Spaniard\nleave to go over to the main, to see what he could do with those he left\nbehind him there: I gave him a strict charge in writing not to bring any\nman with him, who would not first swear, in the presence of himself and\nof the old savage, that he would no way injure, fight with, or attack\nthe person he should find in the island, who was so kind to send for\nthem in order to their deliverance; but that they would stand by and\ndefend him against all such attempts; and wherever they went, would be\nentirely under, and subjected to his command; and that this should be\nput in writing, and signed with their hands: how we were to have this\ndone, when I knew they had neither pen or ink, that indeed was a\nquestion which we never asked.\nUnder these instructions, the Spaniard, and the old savage, (the father\nof Friday) went away in one of the canoes, which they might be said to\ncome in, or rather were brought in, when they came as prisoners to be\ndevoured by the savages.\nI gave each of them a musket with a firelock on it, and about eight\ncharges of powder and ball, charging them to be very good husbands of\nboth, and not to use either of them but upon urgent occasions.\nThis was a cheerful work, being the first measures used by me in view of\nmy deliverance for now twenty-seven years and some days. I gave them\nprovisions of bread, and of dried grapes, sufficient for themselves for\nmany days, and sufficient for their countrymen for about eight days\ntime; and wishing them a good voyage, I let them go, agreeing with them\nabout a signal they should hang out at their return, by which I should\nknow them again, when they came back, at a distance, before they came\non shore.\nThey went away with a fair gale on the day that the moon was at the\nfull; by my account in the month of October; but as for the exact\nreckoning of days, after I had once lost it, I could never recover it\nagain; nor had I kept even the number of years so punctually, as to be\nsure that I was right, though, as it proved when I afterwards examined\nmy account, I found I had kept a true reckoning of years.\nIt was no less than eight days I waited for them, when a strange and\nunforeseen accident intervened, of which the like has not, perhaps, been\nheard of in history. I was fast asleep in my hutch one morning, when my\nman Friday came running in to me, and called aloud, \u201cMaster, master,\nthey are come, they are come.\u201d\nI jumped up, and, regardless of danger, I went out as soon as I could\nget my clothes on, through my little grove, which (by the way) was by\nthis time grown to be a very thick wood; I say, regardless of danger, I\nwent without my arms, which was not my custom to do; but I was\nsurprised, when, turning my eyes to the sea, I presently saw a boat at\nabout a league and a half\u2019s distance, standing in for the shore, with a\nshoulder of mutton sail, as they call it, and the wind blowing pretty\nfair to bring them in. Also I observed presently, that they did not come\nfrom that side which the shore lay on, but from the southernmost end of\nthe island. Upon this I called Friday in, and bid him be close, for\nthese were not the people we looked for, and that we did not know yet\nwhether they were friends or enemies.\nIn the next place, I went in to fetch my perspective glass, to see what\nI could make of them; and having taken the ladder out, I climbed up to\nthe top of the hill, as I used to do when I was apprehensive of any\nthing, and to take my view the plainer without being discovered.\nI had scarce set my foot on the hill, when my eye plainly discovered a\nship lying at an anchor, at about two leagues and a half\u2019s distance from\nme, S.S.E. but not above a league and a half from the shore. By my\nobservation it appeared plainly to be an English ship, and the boat\nappeared to be an English long-boat.\nI cannot express the confusion I was in, though the joy of seeing a\nship, and one whom I had reason to believe was manned by my own\ncountrymen, and consequently friends, was such as I cannot describe; but\nyet I had some secret doubts hung about me, I cannot tell from whence\nthey came, bidding me keep upon my guard. In the first place, it\noccurred to me to consider what business an English ship could have in\nthat part of the world; since it was not the way to or from any part of\nthe world where the English had any traffic; and I knew there had been\nno storms to drive them in there, as in distress; and that if they were\nEnglish really, it was most probable that they were here upon no good\ndesign; and that I had better continue as I was, than fall into the\nhands of thieves and murderers.\nLet no man despise the secret hints and notices of danger, which\nsometimes are given him when he may think there is no possibility of its\nbeing real. That such hints and notices are given us, I believe few that\nhave made any observation of things can deny; that they are certain\ndiscoveries of an invisible world, and a converse of spirits, we cannot\ndoubt; and if the tendency of them seems to be to warn us of danger, why\nshould we not suppose they are from some friendly agent, (whether\nsupreme, or inferior and subordinate, is not the question,) and that\nthey are given for our good?\nThe present question abundantly confirms me in the justice of this\nreasoning; for had I not been made cautious by this secret admonition,\ncome from whence it will, I had been undone inevitably, and in a far\nworse condition than before, as you will see presently.\nI had not kept myself long in this posture, but I saw the boat draw near\nthe shore, as if they looked for a creek to thrust in at for the\nconvenience of landing; however, as they did not come quite far enough,\nthey did not see the little inlet where I formerly landed my rafts, but\nrun their boat on shore upon the beach, at about half a mile from me,\nwhich was very happy for me; for otherwise they would have landed just,\nas I may say, at my door, and would have soon beaten me out of my\ncastle, and, perhaps, have plundered me of all I had.\nWhen they were on shore, I was fully satisfied they were Englishmen, at\nleast most of them; one or two I thought were Dutch, but it did not\nprove so. There were in all eleven men, whereof three of them I found\nwere unarmed, and (as I thought) bound; and when the first four or five\nof them were jumped on shore, they took those three out of the boat as\nprisoners: one of the three I could perceive using the most passionate\ngestures of entreaty, affliction, and despair, even to a kind of\nextravagance; the other two, I could perceive, lifted up their hands\nsometimes, and appeared concerned indeed, but not to such a degree as\nthe first.\nI was perfectly confounded at the sight, and knew not what the meaning\nof it should be; Friday called out to me in English, as well as he\ncould, \u201cO master! you see English mans eat prisoners as well as savage\nmans.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201cFriday, do you think they are going to eat them\nthen\u201d\u2014\u201cYes,\u201d says Friday, \u201cthey will eat them.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo, no,\u201d said I,\n\u201cFriday; I am afraid they will murder them indeed; but you may be sure\nthey will not eat them.\u201d\nAll this while I had no thought of what the matter really was, but stood\ntrembling with the horror of the sight, expecting every moment when the\nthree prisoners should be killed; nay, once I saw one of the villains\nlift up his arm with a great cutlass (as the seamen call it) or sword,\nto strike one of the poor men; and I expected to see him fall every\nmoment, at which all the blood in my body seemed to run chill in\nmy veins.\nI wished heartily now for our Spaniard, and the savage that was gone\nwith him; or that I had any way to have come undiscovered within shot of\nthem, that I might have rescued the three men; for I saw no fire-arms\nthey had among them; but it fell out to my mind another way.\nAfter I had observed the outrageous usage of the three men by the\ninsolent seamen, I observed the fellows ran scattering about the land,\nas if they wanted to see the country. I observed also, that the three\nother men had liberty to go where they pleased; but they sat down all\nthree upon the ground very pensive, and looked like men in despair.\nThis put me in mind of the finest time when I came on shore, and began\nto look about me; how I gave myself over for lost, how wildly I looked\nround me, what dreadful apprehensions I had, and how I lodged in the\ntree all night for fear of being devoured by wild beasts.\nAs I knew nothing that night of the supply I was to receive by the\nprovidential driving of the ship nearer the land, by the storms and\ntides, by which I have since been so long nourished and supported; so\nthese three poor desolate men knew nothing how certain of deliverance\nand supply they were, how near it was to them, and how effectually and\nreally they were in a condition of safety, at the same time they thought\nthemselves lost, and their case desperate.\nSo little do we see before us in the world, and so much reason have we\nto depend cheerfully upon the great Maker of the world, that he does not\nleave his creatures so absolutely destitute, but that in the worst\ncircumstances they have always something to be thankful for, and\nsometimes are nearer their deliverance than they imagine; nay, are even\nbrought to their deliverance by the means by which they seem to be\nbrought to their destruction.\nIt was just at the top of high water when these people came on shore,\nand while, partly they stood parleying with the prisoners they brought,\nand partly while they rambled about to see what kind of place they were\nin, they had carelessly staid till the tide was spent, and the water was\nebbed considerably away, leaving their boat aground.\nThey had left two men in the boat, who, as I found afterwards, having\ndrank a little too much brandy, fell asleep; however, one of them waking\nsooner than the other, and finding the boat too fast aground for him to\nstir it, hallooed for the rest who were straggling about, upon which\nthey all soon came to the boat but it was past all their strength to\nlaunch her, the boat being very heavy, and the shore on that side being\na soft oozy sand, almost like a quicksand.\nIn this condition, like true seamen, who are, perhaps, the least of all\nmankind given to fore-thought, they gave it over, and away they strolled\nabout the country again; and I heard one of them say aloud to another,\n(calling them off from the boat) \u201cWhy, let her alone, Jack, can\u2019t ye?\nshe\u2019ll float next tide.\u201d By which I was fully confirmed in the main\ninquiry, of what countrymen they were.\nAll this while I kept myself close, not once daring to stir out of my\ncastle, any further than to my place of observation, near the top of the\nhill; and very glad I was, to think how well it was fortified. I know it\nwas no less then ten hours before the boat could be on float again, and\nby that time it would be dark and I might be more at liberty to see\ntheir motions, and to hear their discourse, if they had any.\nIn the meantime I fitted myself up for a battle, as before, though with\nmore caution, knowing I had to do with another kind of enemy than I had\nat first: I ordered Friday also, whom I had made an excellent marksman\nwith his gun, to load himself with arms: I took myself two\nfowling-pieces, and I gave him three muskets. My figure, indeed, was\nvery fierce; I had my formidable goat-skin coat on, with the great cap I\nmentioned, a naked sword, two pistols in my belt, and a gun upon\neach shoulder.\nIt was my design, as I said above, not to have made any attempt till it\nwas dark; but about two o\u2019clock, being the heat of the day, I found that\nin short they were all gone straggling into the woods, and, as I\nthought, were all laid down to sleep. The three poor distressed men, too\nanxious for their condition to get any sleep, were however set down\nunder the shelter of a great tree, at about a quarter of a mile from me,\nand, as I thought, out of sight of any of the rest.\nUpon this I resolved to discover myself to them, and learn something of\ntheir condition. Immediately I marched in the figure above, my man\nFriday at a good distance behind me, as formidable for his arms as I,\nbut not making quite so staring a spectre-like figure as I did.\nI came as near them undiscovered as I could, and then before any of them\nsaw me, I called aloud to them in Spanish, \u201cWhat are ye gentlemen?\u201d\nThey started up at the noise, but were ten times more confounded when\nthey saw me, and the uncouth figure that I made. They made no answer at\nall, but I thought I perceived them just going to fly from me, when I\nspoke to them in English, \u201cGentlemen,\u201d said I, \u201cdo not be surprized at me;\nperhaps you may have a friend near you when you did not expect it.\u201d\u2014\u201cHe\nmust be sent directly from Heaven then,\u201d said one of them very gravely to\nme, and pulling off his hat at the same time to me, \u201cfor our condition is\npast the help of man.\u201d\u2014\u201cAll help is from Heaven, Sir,\u201d said I: \u201cbut can\nyou put a stranger in the way how to help you, for you seem to me to be\nin some great distress: I saw you when you landed, and when you seemed\nto make applications to the brutes that came with you, I saw one of them\nlift up his sword to kill you.\u201d\nThe poor man with tears running down his face, and trembling, looking\nlike one astonished, returned, \u201cAm I talking to God, or man! Is it a real\nman, or an angel?\u201d\u2014\u201cBe in no fear about that, Sir,\u201d said I: \u201cif God had\nsent an angel to relieve you, he would have come better cloathed, and\narmed after another manner than you see me in; pray lay aside your fears,\nI am a man, an Englishman, and disposed to assist you, you see; I have\none servant only; we have arms and ammunition; tell us freely, can we\nserve you?\u2014What is your case?\u201d\n\u201cOur case,\u201d said he, \u201cSir, is too long to tell you, while our murtherers\nare so near; but in short, sir, I was commander of that ship, my men\nhave mutinied against me; they have been hardly prevailed on not to\nmurther me, and at last have set me on shore in this desolate place,\nwith these two men with me; one my mate, the other a passenger, where we\nexpected to perish, believing the place to be uninhabited, and know not\nyet what to think of it.\u201d\n\u201cWhere are those brutes, your enemies,\u201d said I; \u201cdo you know where they are\ngone?\u201d\u2014\u201cThere they are, Sir,\u201d said he, pointing to a thicket of trees; \u201cmy\nheart trembles, for fear they have seen us, and heard you speak, if they\nhave, they will certainly murder us all.\u201d\n\u201cHave they any fire-arms?\u201d said I. He answered, \u201cThey had only two pieces,\nand one which they left in the boat.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell then,\u201d said I, \u201cleave the rest\nto me; I see they are all asleep, it is an easy thing to kill them all;\nbut shall we rather take them prisoners?\u201d He told me there were two\ndesperate villains among them, that it was scarce safe to shew any mercy\nto; but if they were secured, he believed all the rest would return to\ntheir duty. I asked him, which they were? He told me he could not at\nthat distance describe them; but he would obey my orders in any thing I\nwould direct. \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201clet us retreat out of their view or hearing,\nleast they awake, and we will resolve further;\u201d so they willingly went\nback with me, till the woods covered us from them.\n\u201cLook you, Sir,\u201d said I, \u201cif I venture upon your deliverance, are you\nwilling to make two conditions with me?\u201d He anticipated my proposals, by\ntelling me, that both he and the ship, if recovered, should be wholly\ndirected and commanded by me in every thing; and if the ship was not\nrecovered, he would live and dye with me in what part of the world\nsoever I would send him; and the two other men said the same.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cmy conditions are but two. 1. That while you stay on this\nisland with me, you will not pretend to any authority here; and if I put\narms into your hands, you will upon all occasions give them up to me,\nand do no prejudice to me or mine, upon this island, and in the mean\ntime be governed by my orders.\n\u201c2. That if the ship is or may be recovered, you will carry me and my\nman to England, passage free.\u201d\nHe gave me all the assurance that the invention and faith of a man could\ndevise, that he would comply with these most reasonable demands, and\nbesides would owe his life to me, and acknowledge it upon all occasions\nas long as he lived.\n\u201cWell then,\u201d said I, \u201chere are three muskets for you, with powder and\nball; tell me next what you think is proper to be done.\u201d He shewed all\nthe testimony of his gratitude that he was able; but offered to be\nwholly guided by me: I told him, I thought it was hard venturing any\nthing, but the best method I could think of, was to fire upon them at\nonce, as they lay; and if any were not killed at the first volley, and\noffered to submit, we might save them, and so put it wholly upon God\u2019s\nprovidence to direct the shot.\nHe said, very modestly, that he was loath to kill them, if he could help\nit; but that those two were incorrigible villains, and had been the\nauthors of all the mutiny in the ship; and if they escaped, we should be\nundone still; for they would go on board, and bring the whole ship\u2019s\ncompany, and destroy us all. \u201cWell then,\u201d said I, \u201cnecessity legitimates\nmy advice; for it is the only way to save our lives.\u201d However, seeing\nhim still cautious of shedding blood, I told him, they should go\nthemselves, and manage as they found convenient.\nIn the middle of this discourse we heard some of them awake, and soon\nafter we saw two of them on their feet. I asked him, if either of them\nwere the men who he had said were the heads of the mutiny? He said, No.\n\u201cWell then,\u201d said I, \u201cyou may let them escape, and Providence seems to\nhave wakened them on purpose to save themselves.\u201d\u2014\u201cNow,\u201d said I, \u201cif\nthe rest escape you, it is your fault.\u201d\nAnimated with this, he took the musket I had given him in his hand, and\npistol in his belt, and his two comrades with him, with each man a piece\nin his hand: the two men, who were with him, going first, made some\nnoise, at which one of the seamen, who was awake, turned about, and\nseeing them coming, cried out to the rest; but it was too late then; for\nthe moment he cried out, they fired, I mean the two men, the captain\nwisely reserving his own piece: they had so well aimed their shot at the\nmen they knew, that one of them was killed on the spot, and the other\nvery much wounded; but not being dead he started up on his feet, and\ncalled eagerly for help to the other; but the captain, stepping to him,\ntold him it was too late to cry for help; he should call upon God to\nforgive his villany; and with that word knocked him down with the stock\nof his musket, so that he never spoke more: there were three more in the\ncompany, and one of them was also slightly wounded. By this time I was\ncome; and when they saw their danger, and that it was in vain to resist,\nthey begged for mercy. The captain told them, he would spare their\nlives, if they would give him any assurance of their abhorrence of the\ntreachery they had been guilty of, and would swear to be faithful to him\nin recovering the ship, and afterwards in carrying her back to Jamaica,\nfrom whence they came. They gave him all the protestations of their\nsincerity that could be desired, and he was willing to believe them, and\nspare their lives, which I was not against; only I obliged him to keep\nthem bound hand and foot while they were upon the island.\nWhile this was doing, I sent Friday with the captain\u2019s mate to the boat,\nwith orders to secure her, and bring away the oars and sail, which they\ndid; and by and by, three straggling men, that were (happily for them)\nparted from the rest, came back upon hearing the guns fired; and seeing\ntheir captain, who before was their prisoner, now their conqueror, they\nsubmitted to be bound also; and so our victory was complete.\nIt now remained, that the captain and I should inquire into one\nanother\u2019s circumstances: I began first, and told him my whole history,\nwhich he heard with an attention even to amazement, and particularly at\nthe wonderful manner of my being furnished with provisions and\nammunition; and indeed, as my story is a whole collection of wonders, it\naffected him deeply; but when he reflected from thence upon himself, and\nhow I seemed to have been preserved there on purpose to save his life,\nthe tears ran down his face, and he could not speak a word more.\nAfter this communication was at an end, I carried him and his two men\ninto my apartments, leading them in just where I came out, viz. at the\ntop of the house; where I refreshed them with such provisions as I had,\nand shewed them all the contrivances I had made during my long, long\ninhabiting that place.\nAll I shewed them, all I said to them, was perfectly amazing; but, above\nall, the captain admired my fortification; and how perfectly I had\nconcealed my retreat with a grove of trees, which, having now been\nplanted near twenty years, and the trees growing much faster than in\nEngland, was become a little wood, and so thick, that it was impassable\nin any part of it, but at that one side where I had reserved my little\nwinding passage into it: this I told him was my castle, and my\nresidence; but that I had a seat in the country, as most princes have,\nwhither I could retreat upon occasion, and I would shew him that too\nanother time; but at present our business was to consider how to recover\nthe ship. He agreed with me as to that; but told me, he was perfectly at\na loss what measure to take; for that there were still six-and-twenty\nhands on board, who having entered into a cursed conspiracy, by which\nthey had all forfeited their lives to the law, would be hardened in it\nnow by desperation; and would carry it on, knowing that, if they were\nreduced, they should be brought to the gallows as soon as they came to\nEngland, or to any of the English colonies; and that therefore there\nwould be no attacking them with so small a number as we were.\nI mused for some time upon what he had said, and found it was a very\nrational conclusion, and that therefore something was to be resolved on\nvery speedily, as well to draw the men on board into some snare for\ntheir surprise, as to prevent their landing upon us, and destroying us.\nUpon this it presently occurred to me, that in a little while the ship\u2019s\ncrew, wondering what was become of their comrades, and of the boat,\nwould certainly come on shore in their other boat to see for them; and\nthat then perhaps they might come armed, and be too strong for us: this\nhe allowed was rational.\nUpon this I told him, the first thing we had to do was to stave the\nboat, which lay upon the beach, so that they might not carry her off;\nand taking every thing out of her, leaving her so far useless as not to\nbe fit to swim; accordingly we went on board, took the arms which were\nleft on board out of her, and whatever else we found there, which was a\nbottle of brandy, and another of rum, a few biscuit cakes, an horn of\npowder, and a great lump of sugar in a piece of canvas; the sugar was\nfive or six pounds; all which was very welcome to me, especially the\nbrandy and sugar, of which I had had none left for many years.\nWhen we had carried all these things on shore, (the oars, mast, sail,\nand rudder of the boat were carried before as above,) we knocked a great\nhole in her bottom, that if they had come strong enough to master us,\nyet they could not carry off the boat.\nIndeed it was not much in my thoughts, that we could be capable to\nrecover the ship; but my view was, that if they went away without the\nboat, I did not much question to make her fit again to carry us away to\nthe Leeward Islands, and call upon our friends the Spaniards in my way,\nfor I had them still in my thoughts.\nWhile we were thus preparing our designs, and had first by main strength\nheaved the boat up upon the beach, so high that the tide would not float\nher off at high water mark; and, besides, had broken a hole in her\nbottom too big to be quickly stopped, and were sat down musing what we\nshould do; we heard the ship fire a gun, and saw her make a waft with\nher ancient, as a signal for the boat to come on board; but no boat\nstirred; and they fired several times, making other signals for\nthe boat.\nAt last, when all their signals and firings proved fruitless, and they\nfound the boat did not stir, we saw them (by the help of our glasses)\nhoist another boat out, and row towards the shore; and we found, as they\napproached, that there were no less than ten men in her, and that they\nhad fire-arms with them.\nAs the ship lay almost two leagues from the shore, we had a full view of\nthem as they came, and a plain sight of the men, even of their faces;\nbecause the tide having set them a little to the east of the other boat,\nthey rowed up under shore, to come to the same place where the other had\nlanded, and where the boat lay.\nBy this means, I say, we had a full view of them, and the captain knew\nthe persons and characters of all the men in the boat; of whom he said\nthat there were three very honest fellows, who he was sure were led into\nthis conspiracy by the rest, being overpowered and frighted: but that\nfor the boatswain, who, it seems, was the chief officer among them, and\nall the rest, they were as outrageous as any of the ship\u2019s crew; and\nwere, no doubt, made desperate in their new enterprise; and terribly\napprehensive he was, that they would be too powerful for us.\nI smiled at him, and told him, that men in our circumstances were past\nthe operations of fear: that seeing almost every condition that could be\nwas better than that we were supposed to be in, we ought to expect that\nthe consequence, whether death or life, would be sure to be a\ndeliverance: I asked him, what he thought of the circumstances of my\nlife, and whether a deliverance were not worth venturing for? \u201cAnd\nwhere, Sir,\u201d said I, \u201cis your belief of my being preserved here on\npurpose to save your life, which elevated you a little while ago? For my\npart,\u201d said I, \u201cthere seems to be but one thing amiss in all the\nprospect of it.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d says he. \u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201c\u2019tis that as\nyou say, there are three or four honest fellows among them, which should\nbe spared; had they been all of the wicked part of the crew, I should\nhave thought God\u2019s providence had singled them out to deliver them into\nyour hands; for, depend upon it, every man of them that comes ashore,\nare our own, and shall die or live as they behave to us.\u201d\nAs I spoke this with a raised voice and cheerful countenance, I found it\ngreatly encouraged him; so we set vigorously to our business. We had,\nupon the first appearance of the boat\u2019s coming from the ship, considered\nof separating our prisoners, and had indeed secured them effectually.\nTwo of them, of whom the captain was less assured than ordinary, I sent\nwith Friday, and one of the three (delivered men) to my cave, where they\nwere remote enough, and out of danger of being heard or discovered, or\nof finding their way out of the woods, if they could have delivered\nthemselves; here they left them bound, but gave them provisions, and\npromised them, if they continued there quietly, to give them their\nliberty in a day or two; but that if they attempted their escape, they\nshould be put to death without mercy. They promised faithfully to bear\ntheir confinement with patience, and were very thankful that they had\nsuch good usage as to have provisions and a light left them; for Friday\ngave them candles (such as we made ourselves) for their comfort; and\nthey did not know but that he stood centinel over them at the entrance.\nThe other prisoners had better usage; two of them were kept pinioned\nindeed, because the captain was not free to trust them; but the other\ntwo were taken into my service upon their captain\u2019s recommendation, and\nupon their solemnly engaging to live and die with us; so, with them and\nthe three honest men, we were seven men well armed; and I made no doubt\nwe should be able to deal well enough with the ten that were a-coming,\nconsidering that the captain had said, there were three or four honest\nmen among them also.\nAs soon as they got to the place where their other boat lay, they ran\ntheir boat into the beach, and came all on shore, hauling the boat up\nafter them, which I was glad to see; for I was afraid they would rather\nhave left the boat at an anchor, some distance from the shore, with some\nhands in her to guard her; and so we should not be able to seize\nthe boat.\nBeing on shore, the first thing they did, they ran all to the other\nboat; and it was easy to see they were under a great surprise to find\nher stripped as above, of all that was in her, and a great hole in\nher bottom.\nAfter they had mused awhile upon this, they set up two or three great\nshouts, hallooing with all their might, to try if they could make their\ncompanions hear; but all was to no purpose: then they came all close in\na ring, and fired a volley of their small arms, which indeed we heard,\nand the echoes made the woods ring; but it was all one: those in the\ncave, we were sure, could not hear; and those in our keeping, though\nthey heard it well enough, yet durst give no answer to them.\nThey were so astonished at the surprise of this, that, as they told us\nafterwards, they resolved to go all on board again to their ship, and\nlet them know there, that the men were all murdered, and the long-boat\nstaved; accordingly, they immediately launched the boat again, and got\nall of them on board.\nThe captain was terribly amazed, and even confounded at this, believing\nthey would go on board the ship again and set sail, giving their\ncomrades up for lost, and so he should still lose the ship, which he was\nin hopes we should have recovered; but he was quickly as much frighted\nthe other way.\nThey had not been long put off with the boat, but we perceived them all\ncoming on shore again; but with this new measure in their conduct, which\nit seems they consulted together upon; viz. to leave three men in the\nboat, and the rest to go on shore, and go up into the country to look\nfor their fellows.\nThis was a great disappointment to us; for now we were at a loss what to\ndo; for our seizing those seven men on shore would be no advantage to us\nif we let the boat escape, because they would then row away to the ship;\nand then the rest of them would be sure to weigh, and set sail, and so\nour recovering the ship would be lost.\nHowever, we had no remedy but to wait and see what the issue of things\nmight present. The seven men came on shore, and the three who remained\nin the boat put her off to a good distance from the shore, and came to\nan anchor to wait for them; so that it was impossible for us to come at\nthem in the boat.\nThose that came on shore kept close together, marching towards the top\nof the little hill, under which my habitation lay; and we could see them\nplainly, though they could not perceive us; we could have been very glad\nthey would have come nearer to us, so that we might have fired at them;\nor that they would have gone farther off, that we might have\ncome abroad.\nBut when they were come to the brow of the hill, where they could see a\ngreat way in the valley and woods, which lay towards the north-east\npart, and where the island lay lowest, they shouted and hallooed till\nthey were weary; and not caring, it seems, to venture far from the\nshore, nor far from one another, they sat down together under a tree, to\nconsider of it: had they thought fit to have gone to sleep there, as the\nother party of them had done, they had done the job for us; but they\nwere too full of apprehensions of danger, to venture to go to sleep,\nthough they could not tell what the danger was they had to fear neither.\nThe captain made a very just proposal to me upon this consultation of\ntheirs; viz. that perhaps they would all fire a volley again, to\nendeavour to make their fellows hear, and that we should all sally upon\nthem, just at the juncture when their pieces were all discharged, and\nthey would certainly yield, and we should have them without bloodshed: I\nliked the proposal, provided it was done while we heard, when they were\npresently stopped by the creek, where the water being up, they could not\nget over, and called for the boat to come up, and set them over, as\nindeed I expected.\nWhen they had set themselves over, I observed, that the boat being gone\nup a good way into the creek, and as it were, in a harbour within the\nland, they took one of the three men out of her to go along with them,\nand left only two in the boat, having fastened her to the stump of a\nlittle tree on the shore.\nThis was what I wished for, and immediately leaving Friday and the\ncaptain\u2019s mate to their business, I took the rest with me, and crossing\nthe creek out of their sight, we surprized the two men before they were\naware; one of them lying on shore, and the other being in the boat; the\nfellow on shore, was between sleeping and waking, and going to start up,\nthe captain who was foremost, ran in upon him, and knocked him down, and\nthen called out to him in the boat, to yield, or he was a dead man.\nThere needed very few arguments to persuade a single man to yield, when\nhe saw five men upon him, and his comrade knocked down; besides, this\nwas it seems one of the three who were not so hearty in the mutiny as\nthe rest of the crew, and therefore was easily persuaded, not only to\nyield, but afterwards to join very sincere with us.\nIn the mean time, Friday and the captain\u2019s mate so well managed their\nbusiness with the rest, that they drew them by hollooing and answering,\nfrom one hill to another, and from one wood to another, till they not\nonly heartily tired them but left them, where they were very sure they\ncould not reach back to the boat, before it was dark; and indeed they\nwere heartily tired themselves also by the time they came back to us.\nWe had nothing now to do, but to watch for them, in the dark, and to\nfall upon them, so as to make sure work with them.\nIt was several hours after Friday came back to me before they came back\nto their boat; and we could hear the foremost of them, long before they\ncame quite up, calling to those behind to come along; and could also\nhear them answer, and complain how lame and tired they were, and not\nbeing able to come any faster, which was very welcome news to us.\nAt length they came up to the boat; but it is impossible to express\ntheir confusion, when they found the boat fast aground in the creek, the\ntide ebbed out, and their two men gone: we could hear them call to one\nanother in a most lamentable manner, telling one another they were\ngotten into an enchanted island; that either there were inhabitants in\nit, and they should all be murdered; or else there were devils or\nspirits in it, and they should be all carried away and devoured.\nThey hallooed again, and called their two comrades by their names a\ngreat many times, but no answer: after some time, we could see them, by\nthe little light there was, run about wringing their hands, like men in\ndespair; and that sometimes they would go and sit down in the boat to\nrest themselves, then come ashore, and walk about again, and so the same\nthing over again.\nMy men would fain have had me given them leave to fall upon them at once\nin the dark; but I was willing to take them at some advantage, so to\nspare them, and kill as few of them as I could; and especially I was\nunwilling to hazard the killing any of our men, knowing the other men\nwere very well armed: I resolved to wait to see if they did not\nseparate; and therefore, to make sure of them, I drew my ambuscade\nnearer; and ordered Friday and the captain to creep upon their hands and\nfeet as close to the ground as they could, that they might not be\ndiscovered, and get as near them as they could possibly, before they\noffered to fire.\nThey had not been long in that posture, till the boatswain, who was the\nprincipal ringleader of the mutiny, and had now shewn himself the most\ndejected and dispirited of all the rest, came walking towards them with\ntwo more of the crew; the captain was so eager, at having the principal\nrogue so much in his power, that he could hardly have patience to let\nhim come so near as to be sure of him; for they only heard his tongue\nbefore: but when they came nearer, the captain and Friday, starting up\non their feet, let fly at them.\nThe boatswain was killed upon the spot; the next man was shot in the\nbody, and fell just by him, though he did not die till an hour or two\nafter; and the third ran for it.\nAt the noise of the fire, I immediately advanced with my whole army,\nwhich was now eight men; viz. myself generalissimo; Friday my\nlieutenant-general; the captain and his two men, and the three prisoners\nof war, whom he had trusted with arms.\nWe came upon them indeed in the dark, so that they could not see our\nnumber; and I made the man they had left in the boat, who was now one of\nus, to call them by name, to try if I could bring them to a parley, and\nso might perhaps reduce them to terms; which fell out just as we\ndesired: for indeed it was easy to think, as their condition then was,\nthey would be very-willing to capitulate; so he calls out, as loud as he\ncould, to one of them, \u201cTom Smith, Tom Smith.\u201d Tom Smith answered\nimmediately, \u201cWho\u2019s that? Robinson?\u201d For it seems he knew his voice. The\nother answered, \u201cAy, ay; for God\u2019s sake, Tom Smith, throw down your\narms, and yield, or you are all dead men this moment.\u201d\n\u201cWho must we yield to? where are they?\u201d says Smith again. \u201cHere they\nare,\u201d says he; \u201chere is our captain and fifty men with him, have been\nhunting you this two hours; the boatswain is killed, Will Frye is\nwounded, and I am a prisoner; and if you do not yield, your are\nall lost.\u201d\n\u201cWill they give us quarter then?\u201d says Tom Smith, \u201cand we will\nyield.\u201d\u2014\u201cI\u2019ll go and ask, if you promise to yield,\u201d says Robinson. So\nhe asked the captain, and the captain himself then calls out, \u201cYou\nSmith, you know my voice, if you lay down your arms immediately, and\nsubmit, you shall have your lives, all but Will Atkins.\u201d\nUpon this Will Atkins cried out, \u201cFor God\u2019s sake, captain, give me\nquarter: what have I done? they have been all as bad as I,\u201d (which by\nthe way was not true, either; for it seems this Will Atkins was the\nfirst man that laid hold of the captain when they first mutinied, and\nused him barbarously, in tying his hands, and giving him injurious\nlanguage:) however, the captain told him he must lay down his arms at\ndiscretion, and trust to the governor\u2019s mercy, by which he meant me; for\nthey all called me governor.\nIn a word, they all laid down their arms, and begged their lives; and I\nsent the man that had parleyed with them, and two more, who bound them\nall; and then my great army of fifty men, which, particularly with those\nthree, were all but eight, came up and seized upon them all, and upon\ntheir boat, only that I kept myself and one more out of sight, for\nreasons of state.\nOur next work was to repair the boat, and to think of seizing the ship;\nand as for the captain, now he had leisure to parley with them, he\nexpostulated with them upon the villany of their practices with him, and\nat length, upon the farther wickedness of their design; and how\ncertainly it must bring them to misery and distress in the end, and\nperhaps to the gallows.\nThey all appeared very penitent, and begged hard for their lives: as for\nthat, he told them they were none of his prisoners, but the commander\u2019s\nof the island; that they thought they had set him on shore in a barren\nuninhabited island; but it had pleased God so to direct them, that the\nisland was inhabited, and that the governor was an Englishman: that he\nmight hang them all there, if he pleased; but as he had given them all\nquarter, he supposed he would send them to England, to be dealt with\nthere as justice required, except Atkins, whom he was commanded by the\ngovernor to advise to prepare for death; for that he would be hanged in\nthe morning.\nThough this was all a fiction of his own, yet it had its desired effect.\nAtkins fell upon his knees to beg the captain to intercede with the\ngovernor for his life; and all the rest begged of him for God\u2019s sake,\nthat they might not be sent to England.\nIt now occurred to me, that the time of our deliverance was come, and\nthat it would be a most easy thing to bring these fellows in to be\nhearty in getting possession of the ship; so I retired in the dark from\nthem, that they might not see what kind of a governor they had, and\ncalled the captain to me: when I called, as at a good distance, one of\nthe men was ordered to speak again, and say to the captain, \u201cCaptain,\nthe commander calls for you;\u201d and presently the captain replied, \u201cTell\nhis excellency I am just a-coming.\u201d This more perfectly amused them; and\nthey all believed that the commander was just by with his fifty men.\nUpon the captain\u2019s coming to me, I told him my project for seizing the\nship, which he liked wonderfully well, and resolved to put it in\nexecution the next morning.\nBut, in order to execute it with more art, and to be secure of success,\nI told him we must divide the prisoners, and that he should go and take\nAtkins, and two more of the worst of them, and send them pinioned to the\ncave where the others lay: this was committed to Friday, and the two men\nwho came on shore with the captain.\nThey conveyed them to the cave, as to a prison; and it was indeed a\ndismal place, especially to men in their condition.\nThe others I ordered to my bower, as I called it, of which I have given\na full description; and as it was fenced in, and they pinioned, the\nplace was secure enough, considering they were upon their behaviour.\nTo these in the morning I sent the captain, who was to enter into a\nparley with them; in a word, to try them, and tell me, whether he\nthought they might be trusted or no, to go on board, and surprise the\nship. He talked to them of the injury done him, of the condition they\nwere brought to; and that though the governor had given them quarter for\ntheir lives, as to the present action, yet that if they were sent to\nEngland, they would all be hanged in chains, to be sure; but that if\nthey would join in such an attempt as to recover the ship, he would have\nthe governor\u2019s engagement for their pardon.\nAny one may guess how readily such a proposal would be accepted by men\nin their condition: they fell down on their knees to the captain, and\npromised with the deepest imprecations, that they would be faithful to\nhim to the last drop, and that they should owe their lives to him, and\nwould go with him all over the world; that they would own him for a\nfather to them as long as they lived.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says the captain, \u201cI must go and tell the governor what you say,\nand see what I can do to bring him to consent to it.\u201d So he brought me\nan account of the temper he found them in; and that he verily believed\nthey would be faithful.\nHowever, that we might be very secure, I told him he should go back\nagain, and choose out five of them, and tell them, that they should see\nthat they did not want men; but he would take out those five to be his\nassistants, and that the governor would keep the other two, and the\nthree that were sent prisoners to the castle, (my cave) as hostages for\nthe fidelity of those five; and that if they proved unfaithful in the\nexecution, the five hostages should be hanged in chains alive upon\nthe shore.\nThis looked severe, and convinced them that the governor was in earnest;\nhowever, they had no way left them but to accept it; and it was now the\nbusiness of the prisoners, as much as of the captain, to persuade the\nother five to do their duty.\nOur strength was now thus ordered for the expedition: 1. The captain,\nhis mate, and passenger. 2. Then the two prisoners of the first gang, to\nwhom, having their characters from the captain, I had given their\nliberty, and trusted them with arms. 3. The other two whom I kept till\nnow in my bower pinioned; but, upon the captain\u2019s motion, had now\nreleased. 4. These five released at last; so that they were twelve in\nall, besides five we kept prisoners in the cave for hostages.\nI asked the captain if he was willing to venture with these hands on\nboard the ship: for, as for me, and my man Friday, I did not think it\nwas proper for us to stir, having seven men left behind; and it was\nemployment enough for us to keep them asunder, and supply them\nwith victuals.\nAs to the five in the cave, I resolved to keep them fast; but Friday\nwent twice a day to them, to supply them with necessaries; and I made\nthe other two carry provisions to a certain distance, where Friday was\nto take it.\nWhen I shewed myself to the two hostages, it was with the captain, who\ntold them, I was the person the governor had ordered to look after them,\nand that it was the governor\u2019s pleasure that they should not stir any\nwhere but by my direction; that if they did, they should be fetched into\nthe castle, and be laid in irons; so that as we never suffered them to\nsee me as governor, so I now appeared as another person, and spoke of\nthe governor, the garrison, the castle, and the like, upon all\noccasions.\nThe captain now had no difficulty before him, but to furnish his two\nboats, stop the breach of one, and man them: he made his passenger\ncaptain of one, with four other men; and himself, and his mate, and five\nmore, went in the other: and they contrived their business very well;\nfor they came up to the ship about midnight. As soon as they came\nwithin call of the ship, he made Robinson hail them, and tell them he\nhad brought off the men and the boat, but that it was a long time before\nthey had found them, and the like; holding them in a chat, till they\ncame to the ship\u2019s side; when the captain and the mate, entering first\nwith their arms, immediately knocked down the second mate and carpenter\nwith the but end of their muskets; being very faithfully seconded by\ntheir men, they seemed all the rest that were upon the main and quarter\ndecks, and began to fasten the hatches to keep them down who were below;\nwhen the other boat and their men, entering at the fore chains, secured\nthe forecastle of the ship, and the skuttle which went down into the\ncook-room, making three men they found there prisoners.\nWhen this was done, and all safe upon the deck, the captain ordered the\nmate with three men to break into the round-house, where the new rebel\ncaptain lay, and, having taken the alarm, was gotten up, and with two\nmen and a boy had gotten fire arms in their hands; and when the mate\nwith a crow split upon the door, the new captain and his men fired\nboldly among them, and wounded the mate with a musket-ball, which broke\nhis arm, and wounded two more of the men, but killed nobody.\nThe mate, calling for help, rushed, however, into the round-house,\nwounded as he was, and with his pistol shot the new captain through the\nhead, the bullets entering at his mouth, and came out again behind one\nof his ears; so that he never spoke a word; upon which the rest yielded,\nand the ship was taken effectually without any more lives being lost.\nAs soon as the ship was thus secured, the captain ordered seven guns to\nbe fired, which was the signal agreed upon with me, to give me notice of\nhis success; which you may be sure I was very glad to hear, having sat\nwatching upon the shore for it, till near two of the clock in\nthe morning.\nHaving thus heard the signal plainly, I laid me down; and it having\nbeen a day of great fatigue to me, I slept very sound, till I was\nsomething surprised with the noise of a gun; and presently starting up,\nI heard a man call me by the name of governor, governor; and presently I\nknew the captain\u2019s voice; when climbing up to the top of the hill, there\nhe stood, and pointing to the ship, he embraced me in his arms: \u201cMy dear\nfriend and deliverer,\u201d says he, \u201cthere\u2019s your ship, for she is all\nyours, and so are we, and all that belong to her.\u201d I cast my eyes to the\nship, and there she rode within a little more than half a mile of the\nshore; for they had weighed her anchor as soon as they were masters of\nher; and the weather being fair, had brought her to an anchor just\nagainst the mouth of a little creek; and the tide being up, the captain\nhad brought the pinnace in near the place where I first landed my rafts,\nand so landed just at my door.\nI was, at first, ready to sink down with the surprise; for I saw my\ndeliverance indeed visibly put into my hands, all things easy, and a\nlarge ship just ready to carry me away whither I pleased to go; at\nfirst, for some time, I was not able to answer one word; but as he had\ntaken me in his arms, I held fast by him, or I should have fallen to\nthe ground.\nHe perceived the surprise, and immediately pulled a bottle out of his\npocket, and gave me a dram of cordial, which he had brought on purpose\nfor me: after I drank it, I sat down upon the ground, and though it\nbrought me to myself, yet it was a good while before I could speak a\nword to him.\nAll this while the poor man was in as great an ecstasy as I, only not\nunder any surprise, as I was; and he said a thousand kind tender things\nto me, to compose and bring me to myself; but such was the flood of joy\nin my breast, that it put all my spirits into confusion; at last it\nbroke into tears, and in a little while after I recovered my speech.\nThen I took my turn, and embraced him as my deliverer; and we rejoiced\ntogether; I told him, I looked upon him as a man sent from Heaven to\ndeliver me, and that the whole transaction seemed to be a chain of\nwonders; that such things as these were the testimonies we had of a\nsecret hand of Providence governing the world, and an evidence, that the\neyes of an infinite Power could search into the remotest corner of the\nworld, and send help to the miserable whenever he pleased.\nI forgot not to lift up my heart in thankfulness to Heaven; and what\nheart could forbear to bless Him, who had not only in a miraculous\nmanner provided for one in such a wilderness, and in such a desolate\ncondition, but from whom every deliverance must always be acknowledged\nto proceed?\nWhen we had talked awhile, the captain told me, he had brought me some\nlittle refreshments, such as the ship afforded, and such as the wretches\nwho had been so long his masters, had not plundered him of. Upon this he\ncalled aloud to the boat, and bids his men bring the things ashore that\nwere for the governor; and indeed it was a present, as if I had been\none, not that I was to be carried along with them, but as if I had been\nto dwell upon the island still, and they were to go without me.\nFirst, he had brought me a case of bottles full of excellent cordial\nwaters; six large bottles of Madeira wine, the bottles held two quarts\napiece; two pounds of excellent good tobacco, twelve good pieces of the\nship\u2019s beef, and six pieces of pork, with a bag of peas, and about a\nhundred weight of biscuit.\nHe brought me also a box of sugar, a box of flour, a bag full of lemons,\nand two bottles of lime-juice, and abundance of other things: but\nbesides these, and what was a thousand times more useful to me, he\nbrought me six clean new shirts, six very good neckcloths, two pair of\ngloves, one pair of shoes, a hat, and one pair of stockings, and a very\ngood suit of clothes of his own, which had been worn but very little. In\na word, he clothed me from head to foot.\nIt was a very kind and agreeable present, as any one may imagine, to\none in my circumstances; but never was any thing in the world of that\nkind so unpleasant, awkward, and uneasy, as it was to me to wear such\nclothes at their first putting on.\nAfter these ceremonies passed, and after all his things were brought\ninto my little apartment, we began to consult what was to be done with\nthe prisoners we had; for it was worth considering whether we might\nventure to take them away with us or no, especially two of them, whom we\nknew to be incorrigible and refractory to the last degree; and the\ncaptain said, he knew they were such rogues, that there was no obliging\nthem; and if he did carry them away, it must be in irons, as\nmalefactors, to be delivered over to justice at the first English colony\nhe could come at; and I found that the captain himself was very\nanxious about it.\nUpon this, I told him, that, if he desired it, I durst undertake to\nbring the two men he spoke of to make their own request that he should\nleave them upon the island; \u201cI should be very glad of that,\u201d says the\ncaptain, \u201cwith all my heart.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cI will send for them, and talk with them for you:\u201d so I\ncaused Friday and the two hostages, for they were now discharged, their\ncomrades having performed their promise; I say, I caused them to go to\nthe cave, and bring up the five men, pinioned as they were, to the\nbower, and keep them there till I came.\nAfter some time, I came thither dressed in my new habit, and now I was\ncalled governor again. Being all met, and the captain with me, I caused\nthe men to be brought before me, and I told them, I had had a full\naccount of their villanous behaviour to the captain, and how they had\nrun away with the ship, and were preparing to commit farther robberies;\nbut that Providence, had ensnared them in their own ways, and that they\nwere fallen into the pit which they had digged for others.\nI let them know, that by my direction the ship had been seized, that\nshe lay now in the road, and they might see by and by, that their new\ncaptain had received the reward of his villany; for that they might see\nhim hanging at the yard-arm: that as to them, I wanted to know what they\nhad to say, why I should not execute them as pirates taken in the fact,\nas by my commission they could not doubt I had authority to do.\nOne of them answered in the name of the rest, that they had nothing to\nsay but this, that when they were taken, the captain promised them their\nlives, and they humbly implored my mercy: but I told them I knew not\nwhat mercy to shew them; for, as for myself, I had resolved to quit the\nisland with all my men, and had taken passage with the captain to go for\nEngland: and as for the captain, he could not carry them to England,\nother than as prisoners in irons to be tried for mutiny, and running\naway with the ship; the consequence of which they must needs know, would\nbe the gallows; so that I could not tell which was best for them, unless\nthey had a mind to take their fate in the island; if they desired that,\nI did not care, as I had liberty to leave it; I had some inclination to\ngive them their lives, if they thought they could shift on shore. They\nseemed very thankful for it; said they would much rather venture to stay\nthere, than to be carried to England to be hanged; so I left it on\nthat issue.\nHowever, the captain seemed to make some difficulty of it, as if he\ndurst not leave them there: upon this I seemed to be a little angry with\nthe captain, and told him, that they were my prisoners, not his; and\nthat seeing I had offered them so much favour, I would be as good as my\nword; and that if he did not think fit to consent to it, I would set\nthem at liberty as I found them; and if he did not like that, he might\ntake them again if he could catch them.\nUpon this they appeared very thankful, and I accordingly set them at\nliberty, and bade them retire into the woods, to the place whence they\ncame, and I would leave them some fire-arms, some ammunition, and some\ndirections how they should live very well, if they thought fit.\nUpon this, I prepared to go on board the ship; but told the captain,\nthat I would stay that night to prepare my things; and desired him to go\non board in the meantime, and keep all right in the ship, and send the\nboat on shore the next day for me; ordering him in the meantime to cause\nthe new captain who was killed, to be hanged at the yard-arm, that these\nmen might see him.\nWhen the captain was gone, I sent for the men up to me to my apartment,\nand entered seriously into discourse with them of their circumstances: I\ntold them, I thought they had made a right choice; that if the captain\ncarried them away, they would certainly be hanged: I shewed them their\ncaptain hanging at the yard-arm of the ship, and told them they had\nnothing less to expect.\nWhen they had all declared their willingness to stay, I then told them,\nI would let them into the story of my living there, and put them into\nthe way of making it easy to them: accordingly I gave them the whole\nhistory of the place, and of my coming to it: shewed them my\nfortifications, the way I made my bread, planted my corn, cured my\ngrapes; and, in a word, all that was necessary to make them easy. I told\nthem the story of the sixteen Spaniards that were to be expected; for\nwhom I left a letter, and made them promise to treat them in common with\nthemselves.\nI left them my fire-arms; viz. five muskets, three fowling-pieces, and\nthree swords: I had about a barrel of powder left; for after the first\nyear or two I used but little, and wasted none. I gave them a\ndescription of the way I managed the goats, and directions to milk and\nfatten them, to make both butter and cheese.\nIn a word, I gave them every part of my own story; and I told them, I\nwould prevail with the captain to leave them two barrels of gunpowder\nmore, and some garden-seed, which I told them I would have been very\nglad of; also I gave them the bag of peas which the captain had brought\nme to eat, and bade them be sure to sow and increase them.\nHaving done all this, I left them the next day, and went on board the\nship: we prepared immediately to sail, but did not weigh that night: the\nnext morning early, two of the five men came swimming to the ship\u2019s\nside, and making a most lamentable complaint of the other three, begged\nto be taken into the ship for God\u2019s sake, for they should be murdered;\nand begged the captain to take them on board though he hanged them\nimmediately.\nUpon this the captain pretended to have no power without me; but after\nsome difficulty, and after their solemn promises of amendment, they were\ntaken on board, and were some time after soundly whipped and pickled;\nafter which they proved very honest and quiet fellows.\nSome time after this, I went with the boat on shore, the tide being up,\nwith the things promised to the men, to which the captain, at my\nintercession, caused their chests and clothes to be added, which they\ntook, and were very thankful for: I also encouraged them, by telling\nthem, that if it lay in my way to send a vessel to take them in, I would\nnot forget them.\nWhen I took leave of this island, I carried on board for relics the\ngreat goat-skin cap I had made, my umbrella, and one of my parrots; also\nI forgot not to take the money I formerly mentioned, which had lain by\nme so long useless that it was grown rusty or tarnished, and could\nhardly pass for silver, till it had been a little rubbed and handled;\nand also the money I found in the wreck of the Spanish ship.\nAnd thus I left the island the nineteenth of December, as I found by the\nship\u2019s account, in the year 1686, after I had been upon it\neight-and-twenty years, two months, and nineteen days: being delivered\nfrom the second captivity the same day of the month that I first made\nmy escape in the barco-longo, from among the Moors of Sallee.\nIn this vessel, after a long voyage, I arrived in England the eleventh\nof June, in the year 1687; having been thirty and five years absent.\nWhen I came to England, I was a perfect stranger to all the world, as if\nI had never been known there: my benefactor, and faithful steward, whom\nI had left in trust with my money, was alive, but had had great\nmisfortunes in the world, was become a widow the second time, and very\nlow in the world: I made her easy as to what she owed me, assuring her I\nwould give her no trouble; but on the contrary, in gratitude to her\nformer care and faithfulness to me, I relieved her as my little stock\nwould afford, which at that time would indeed allow me to do but little\nfor her: but I assured her, I would never forget her former kindness to\nme; nor did I forget her, when I had sufficient to help her; as shall be\nobserved in its place.\nI went down afterwards into Yorkshire; but my father was dead, and my\nmother and all the family extinct; except that I found two sisters, and\ntwo of the children of one of my brothers: and as I had been long ago\ngiven over for dead, there had been no provision made for me, so that,\nin a word, I found nothing to relieve or assist me; and that little\nmoney I had, would not do much for me as to settling in the world.\nI met with one piece of gratitude indeed, which I did not expect; and\nthis was, that the master of the ship, whom I had so happily delivered,\nand by the same means saved the ship and cargo, having given a very\nhandsome account to the owners, of the manner how I had saved the lives\nof the men, and the ship, they invited me to meet them and some other\nmerchants concerned, and all together made me a very handsome compliment\nupon that subject, and a present of almost two hundred pounds sterling.\nBut after making several reflections upon the circumstances of my life,\nand how little way this would go towards settling me in the world, I\nresolved to go to Lisbon, and see if I might not come by some\ninformation of the state of my plantation in the Brasils, and what was\nbecome of my partner, who, I had reason to suppose, had some years now\ngiven me over for dead.\nWith this view I took shipping for Lisbon, where I arrived in April\nfollowing; my man Friday accompanying me very honestly in all these\nramblings, and proving a most faithful servant upon all occasions.\nWhen I came to Lisbon, I found out, by inquiry, and to my particular\nsatisfaction, my old friend the captain of the ship, who first took me\nup at sea, off the shore of Africa: he was now grown old, and had left\noff the sea, having put his son, who was far from a young man, into his\nship; and who still used the Brasil trade. The old man did not know me,\nand, indeed, I hardly knew him; but I soon brought myself to his\nremembrance, when I told him who I was.\nAfter some passionate expressions of our old acquaintance, I inquired,\nyou may be sure, after my plantation and my partner; the old man told\nme, he had not been in the Brasils for about nine years; but that he\ncould assure me, that when he came away, my partner was living; but the\ntrustees, whom I had joined with him, to take cognizance of my part,\nwere both dead; that, however, he believed that I would have a very good\naccount of the improvement of the plantation; for that, upon the general\nbelief of my being cast away and drowned, my trustees had given in the\naccount of the produce of my part of the plantation, to the procurator\nfiscal; who had appropriated it, in case I never came to claim it, one\nthird to the king, and two thirds to the monastery of St. Augustine, to\nbe expended for the benefit of the poor, and for the conversion of the\nIndians to the Catholic faith; but that if I appeared, or any one for\nme, to claim the inheritance, it would be restored; only that the\nimprovement, or annual production, being distributed to charitable uses,\ncould not be restored; but he assured me, that the steward of the\nking\u2019s revenue, (from lands) and the provedore, or steward of the\nmonastery, had taken great care all along, that the incumbent, that is\nto say, my partner, gave every year a faithful account of the produce,\nof which they received duly my moiety.\nI asked him, if he knew to what height of improvement he had brought the\nplantation; and whether he thought it might be worth looking after; or\nwhether, on my going thither, I should meet with no obstruction to my\npossessing my just right in the moiety.\nHe told me, he could not tell exactly to what degree the plantation was\nimproved; but this he knew, that my partner was growing exceeding rich\nupon the enjoying but one half of it; and that, to the best of his\nremembrance, he had heard, that the king\u2019s third of my part, which was,\nit seems, granted away to some other monastery, or religious house,\namounted to above two hundred moidores a year; that, as to my being\nrestored to a quiet possession of it, there was no question to be made\nof that, my partner being alive to witness my title, and my name being\nalso enrolled in the register of the county. Also he told me, that the\nsurvivors of my two trustees were very fair, honest people, and very\nwealthy, and he believed I would not only have their assistance for\nputting me in possession, but would find a very considerable sum of\nmoney in their hands for my account, being the produce of the farm,\nwhile their fathers held the trust, and before it was given up, as\nabove, which, as he remembered, was about twelve years.\nI shewed myself a little concerned and uneasy at this account, and\ninquired of the old captain, how it came to pass, that the trustees\nshould thus dispose of my effects, when he knew that I had made my will,\nand had made him, the Portuguese captain, my universal heir, &c.\nHe told me that was true; but that, as there was no proof of my being\ndead, he could not act as executor, until some certain account should\ncome of my death; and that, besides, he was not willing to intermeddle\nwith a thing so remote: that it was true, he had registered my will, and\nput in his claim; and could he have given any account of my being dead\nor alive, he would have acted by procuration, and taken possession of\nthe _ingenio_, (so they called the sugarhouse) and had given his son,\nwho was now at the Brasils, order to do it.\n\u201cBut,\u201d says the old man, \u201cI have one piece of news to tell you, which\nperhaps may not be so acceptable to you as the rest; and that is, that\nbelieving you were lost, and all the world believing so also, your\npartner and trustees did offer to account to me in your name, for six or\neight of the first years of profit, which I received; but there being at\nthat time,\u201d says he, \u201cgreat disbursements for increasing the works,\nbuilding an _ingenio_ and buying slaves, it did not amount to near so\nmuch as afterwards it produced: however,\u201d says the old man, \u201cI shall\ngive you a true account of what I have received in all, and how I have\ndisposed of it.\u201d\nAfter a few days farther conference with this ancient friend, he brought\nme an account of the six first years income of my plantation, signed by\nmy partner, and the merchants\u2019 trustees, being always delivered in\ngoods; viz. tobacco in roll, and sugar in chests, besides rum, molasses,\n&c. which is the consequence of a sugar-work; and I found by this\naccount, that every year the income considerably increased: but, as\nabove, the disbursement being large, the sum at first was small:\nhowever, the old man let me see, that he was debtor to me four hundred\nand seventy moidores of gold, besides sixty chests of sugar, and fifteen\ndouble rolls of tobacco, which were lost in his ship, he having been\nshipwrecked coming home to Lisbon, about eleven years after my leaving\nthe place.\nThe good man then began to complain of his misfortunes, and how he had\nbeen obliged to make use of my money to recover his losses, and buy him\na share in a new ship; \u201chowever, my old friend,\u201d says he, \u201cyou shall\nnot want a supply in your necessity; and as soon as my son returns, you\nshall be fully satisfied.\u201d\nUpon this he pulls out an old pouch, and gives me two hundred Portugal\nmoidores in gold; and giving me the writings of his title to the ship\nwhich his son was gone to the Brasils in, of which he was a quarter part\nowner, and his son another, he puts them both in my hands for security\nof the rest.\nI was too much moved with the honesty and kindness of the poor man, to\nbe able to bear this; and remembering what he had done for me, how he\nhad taken me up at sea, and how generously he had used me on all\noccasions, and particularly how sincere a friend he was now to me, I\ncould hardly refrain weeping at what he said to me: therefore, first I\nasked him if his circumstances admitted him to spare so much money at\nthat time, and if it would not straiten him? He told me he could not say\nbut it might straiten him a little; but, however, it was my money, and I\nmight want it more than he.\nEvery thing the good man said was full of affection, and I could hardly\nrefrain from tears while he spake. In short, I took one hundred of the\nmoidores, and called for a pen and ink to give him a receipt for them;\nthen I returned him the rest, and told him, if ever I had possession of\nthe plantation, I would return the other to him also, as indeed I\nafterwards did; and then, as to the bill of sale of his part in his\nson\u2019s ship, I would not take it by any means; but that if I wanted the\nmoney, I found he was honest enough to pay me; and if I did not, but\ncame to receive what he gave me reason to expect, I would never have a\npenny more from him.\nWhen this was past, the old man began to ask me if he should put me in a\nmethod to make my claim to my plantation. I told him, I thought to go\nover to it myself. He said, I might do so if I pleased; but that if I\ndid not, there were ways enough to secure my right, and immediately to\nappropriate the profits to my use; and as there were ships in the river\nof Lisbon, just ready to go away to Brasil, he made me enter my name in\na public register, with his affidavit, affirming upon oath that I was\nalive, and that I was the same person who took up the land for the\nplanting the said plantation at first.\nThis being regularly attested by a notary, and the procuration affixed,\nhe directed me to send it with a letter of his writing, to a merchant of\nhis acquaintance at the place; and then proposed my staying with him\ntill an account came of the return.\nNever any thing was more honourable than the proceedings upon this\nprocuration; for in less than seven months I received a large packet\nfrom the survivors of my trustees, the merchants, on whose account I\nwent to sea, in which were the following particular letters and\npapers enclosed.\nFirst, There was the account current of the produce of my farm, or\nplantation, from the year when their fathers had balanced with my old\nPortugal captain, being for six years; the balance appeared to be 1171\nmoidores in my favour.\nSecondly, There was the account of four years more while they kept the\neffects in their hands, before the government claimed the\nadministration, as being the effects of a person not to be found, which\nthey call _civil-death_; and the balance of this, the value of\nplantation increasing, amounted to 38892 crusadoes, which made 3241 moidores.\nThirdly, There was the prior of the Augustines account, who had received\nthe profits for above fourteen years; but not being able to account for\nwhat was disposed to the hospital, very honestly declared he had 872\nmoidores not distributed, which he acknowledged to my account. As to the\nking\u2019s part, that refunded nothing.\nThere was also a letter of my partner\u2019s, congratulating me very\naffectionately upon my being alive; giving me an account how the estate\nwas improved, and what it produced a year, with a particular of the\nnumber of squares or acres that it contained; how planted, how many\nslaves there were upon it, and making two and twenty crosses for\nblessings, told me he had said so many Ave Marias to thank the Blessed\nVirgin that I was alive; inviting me very passionately to come over and\ntake possession of my own; and in the mean time to give him orders to\nwhom he should deliver my effects, if I did not come my self; concluding\nwith a hearty tender of his friendship, and that of his family, and sent\nme, as a present, seven fine leopard\u2019s skins, which he had it seems\nreceived from Africa, by some other ship which he had sent thither, and\nwho it seems had made a better voyage than I: he sent me also five\nchests of excellent sweetmeats, and an hundred pieces of gold uncoined,\nnot quite so large as moidores.\nBy the same fleet, my two merchant trustees shipped me 1,200 chests of\nsugar, 800 rolls of tobacco, and the rest of the whole Account in gold.\nI might well say, now indeed, that the latter end of Job was better than\nthe beginning. It is impossible to express here the flutterings of my\nvery heart, when I looked over these letters, and especially when I\nfound all my wealth about me; for as the Brasil ships come all in\nfleets, the same ships which brought my letters, brought my goods; and\nthe effects were safe in the river before the letters came to my hand.\nIn a word, I turned pale, and grew sick; and had not the old man run and\nfetched me a cordial, I believe the sudden surprize of joy had overset\nnature, and I had died upon the spot.\nNay after that, I continued very ill, and was so some hours, \u2019till a\nphysician being sent for, and something of the real cause of my illness\nbeing known, he ordered me to be let blood; after which, I had relief,\nand grew well: but I verily believe, if it had not been eased by a vent\ngiven in that manner, to the spirits, I should have died.\nI was now master, all on a sudden, of above 5000_l_. sterling in money,\nand had an estate, as I might well call it, in the Brasils, of above a\nthousand pounds a year, as sure as an estate of lands in England: and in\na word, I was in a condition which I scarce knew how to understand, or\nhow to compose my self, for the enjoyment of it.\nThe first thing I did, was to recompense my original benefactor, my good\nold captain, who had been first charitable to me in my distress, kind to\nme in my beginning, and honest to me at the end: I shewed him all that\nwas sent me, I told him, that next to the Providence of Heaven, which\ndisposes all things, it was owing to him; and that it now lay on me to\nreward him, which I would do a hundred fold: so I first returned to him\nthe hundred moidores I had received of him, then I sent for a notary,\nand caused him to draw up a general release or discharge for the 470\nmoidores, which he had acknowledged he owed me in the fullest and\nfirmest manner possible; after which, I caused a procuration to be\ndrawn, impowering him to be my receiver of the annual profits of my\nplantation, and appointing my partner to account to him, and make the\nreturns by the usual fleets to him in my name; and a clause in the end,\nbeing a grant of 100 moidores a year to him, during his life, out of the\neffects, and 50 moidores a year to his son after him, for his life: and\nthus I requited my old man.\nI was now to consider which way to steer my course next, and what to do\nwith the estate that Providence had thus put into my hands; and indeed I\nhad more care upon my head now, than I had in my silent state of life in\nthe island, where I wanted nothing but what I had, and had nothing but\nwhat I wanted: whereas I had now a great charge upon me, and my business\nwas how to secure it. I had ne\u2019er a cave now to hide my money in, or a\nplace where it might lie without lock or key, \u2019till it grew mouldy and\ntarnished before any body would meddle with it: on the contrary, I knew\nnot where to put it, or who to trust with it. My old patron, the\ncaptain, indeed was honest, and that was the only refuge I had.\nIn the next place, my interest in the Brasils seemed to summon me\nthither, but now I could not tell, how to think of going thither, \u2019till\nI had settled my affairs, and left my effects in some safe hands behind\nme. At first I thought of my old friend the widow, who I knew was\nhonest, and would be just to me; but then she was in years, and but\npoor, and for ought I knew, might be in debt; so that in a word, I had\nno way but to go back to England my self, and take my effects with me.\nIt was some months however before I resolved upon this; and therefore,\nas I had rewarded the old captain fully, and to his satisfaction, who\nhad been my former benefactor, so I began to think of my poor widow,\nwhose husband had been my first benefactor, and she, while it was in her\npower, my faithful steward and instructor. So the first thing I did, I\ngot a merchant in Lisbon to write to his correspondent in London, not\nonly to pay a bill, but to go find her out, and carry her in money, an\nhundred pounds from me, and to talk with her, and comfort her in her\npoverty, by telling her she should, if I lived, have a further supply:\nat the same time I sent my two sisters in the country, each of them an\nhundred pounds, they being, though not in want, yet not in very good\ncircumstances; one having been married, and left a widow; and the other\nhaving a husband not so kind to her as he should be.\nBut among all my relations, or acquaintances, I could not yet pitch upon\none, to whom I durst commit the gross of my stock, that I might go away\nto the Brasils, and leave things safe behind me; and this greatly\nperplexed me.\nI had once a mind to have gone to the Brasils, and have settled my self\nthere; for I was, as it were, naturalized to the place; but I had some\nlittle scruple in my mind about religion, which insensibly drew me back,\nof which I shall say more presently. However, it was not religion that\nkept me from going thither for the present; and as I had made no scruple\nof being openly of the religion of the country, all the while I was\namong them, so neither did I yet; only that now and then having of late\nthought more of it than formerly, when I began to think of living and\ndying among them, I began to regret my having professed myself a Papist,\nand thought it might not be the best religion to die in.\nBut, as I have said, this was not the main thing that kept me from going\nto the Brasils, but that really I did not know with whom to leave my\neffects behind me; so I resolved at last to go to England with them,\nwhere if I arrived, I concluded I should make some acquaintance, or find\nsome relations, that would be faithful to me; and accordingly I prepared\nto go for England with all my wealth.\nIn order to prepare things for my going home, I first (the Brasil fleet\nbeing just going away) resolved to give answers suitable to the just and\nfaithful account of things I had from thence; and first to the prior of\nSt. Augustine I wrote a letter full of thanks for his just dealings, and\nthe offer of the eight hundred and seventy-two moidores, which was\nundisposed of, which I desired might be given, five hundred to the\nmonastery, and three hundred and seventy-two to the poor, as the prior\nshould direct, desiring the good Padre\u2019s prayers for me, and the like.\nI wrote next a letter of thanks to my two trustees, with all the\nacknowledgment that so much justice and honesty called for; as for\nsending them any present, they were far above having any occasion of it.\nLastly, I wrote to my partner, acknowledging his industry in the\nimproving the plantation, and his integrity in increasing the stock of\nthe works, giving him instructions for his future government of my part\naccording to the powers I had left with my old patron, to whom I desired\nhim to send whatever became due to me, till he should hear from me more\nparticularly; assuring him, that it was my intention, not only to come\nto him, but to settle myself there for the remainder of my life. To this\nI added a very handsome present of some Italian silks for his wife and\ntwo daughters, for such the captain\u2019s son informed me he had; with two\npieces of fine English broad-cloth, the best I could get in Lisbon, five\npieces of black bays, and some Flanders lace of a good value.\nHaving thus settled my affairs, sold my cargo, and turned all my effects\ninto good bills of exchange, my next difficulty was, which way to go to\nEngland. I had been accustomed enough to the sea, and yet I had a\nstrange aversion to go to England by sea at that time; and though I\ncould give no reason for it, yet the difficulty increased upon me so\nmuch, that though I had once shipped my baggage in order to go, yet I\naltered my mind, and that not once, but two or three times.\nIt is true, I had been very unfortunate by sea, and this might be one of\nthe reasons. But let no man slight the strong impulses of his own\nthoughts in cases of such moment. Two of the ships which I had singled\nout to go in, I mean more particularly singled out than any other, that\nis to say, so as in one of them to put my things on board, and in the\nother to have agreed with the captain; I say, two of these ships\nmiscarried, viz. one was taken by the Algerines, and the other was cast\naway on the Start, near Torbay, and all the people drowned except three;\nso that in either of those vessels I had been made miserable, and in\nwhich most, it was hard to say.\nHaving been thus harassed in my thoughts, my old pilot, to whom I\ncommunicated every thing, pressed me earnestly not to go to sea; but\neither to go by land to the Groyne, and cross over the Bay of Biscay to\nRochelle, from whence it was but an easy and safe journey by land to\nParis, and so to Calais and Dover; or to go up to Madrid, and so all the\nway by land through France.\nIn a word, I was so prepossessed against my going by sea at all, except\nfrom Calais to Dover, that I resolved to travel all the way by land;\nwhich, as I was not in haste, and did not value the charge, was by much\nthe pleasanter way; and to make it more so, my old captain brought an\nEnglish gentleman, the son of a merchant in Lisbon, who was willing to\ntravel with me; after which, we picked up two who were English, and\nmerchants also, and two young Portuguese gentlemen, the last going to\nParis only; so that we were in all six of us, and five servants, the two\nmerchants and the two Portuguese contenting themselves with one servant\nbetween two, to save the charge; and as for me, I got an English sailor\nto travel with me as a servant, besides my man Friday, who was too much\na stranger to be capable of supplying the place of a servant upon\nthe road.\nIn this manner I set out from Lisbon; and our company being all very\nwell mounted and armed, we made a little troop whereof they did me the\nhonour to call me captain, as well because I was the oldest man, as\nbecause I had two servants, and indeed was the original of the\nwhole journey.\nAs I have troubled you with none of my sea journals, so shall I trouble\nyou with none of my land journals. But some adventures that happened to\nus in this tedious and difficult journey, I must not omit.\nWhen we came to Madrid, we, being all of us strangers to Spain, were\nwilling to stay some time to see the court of Spain, and to see what was\nworth observing; but it being the latter part of the summer, we hastened\naway, and set out from Madrid about the middle of October. But when we\ncame to the edge of Navarre, we were alarmed at several towns on the\nway, with an account that so much snow was fallen on the French side of\nthe mountains, that several travellers were obliged to come back to\nPampeluna, after having attempted, at an extreme hazard, to pass on.\nWhen we came to Pampeluna itself, we found it so indeed; and to me that\nhad been always used to a hot climate, and indeed to countries where we\ncould scarce bear any clothes on, the cold was insufferable; nor,\nindeed, was it more painful than it was surprising: to come but ten days\nbefore out of the Old Castile, where the weather was not only warm, but\nvery hot, and immediately to feel a wind from the Pyrenees mountains, so\nvery keen, so severely cold, as to be intolerable, and to endanger\nbenumbing and perishing of our fingers and toes, was very strange.\nPoor Friday was really frighted when he saw the mountains all covered\nwith snow, and felt cold weather, which he had never seen or felt before\nin his life.\nTo mend the matter, after we came to Pampeluna, it continued snowing\nwith so much violence, and so long, that the people said, winter was\ncome before its time; and the roads, which were difficult before, were\nnow quite impassable: in a word, the snow lay in some places too thick\nfor us to travel; and being not hard frozen, as is the case in northern\ncountries, there was no going without being in danger of being buried\nalive every step. We staid no less than twenty days at Pampeluna; when\n(seeing the winter coming on, and no likelihood of its being better, for\nit was the severest winter all over Europe that had been known in many\nyears) proposed that we should all go away to Fontarabia, and there take\nshipping for Boardeaux, which was a very little voyage.\nBut while we were considering this, there came in four French gentlemen,\nwho, having been stopped on the French side of the passes, as we were on\nthe Spanish, had found out a guide, who traversing the country near the\nhead of Languedoc, had brought them over the mountains by such ways,\nthat they were not much incommoded with the snow; and where they met\nwith snow in any quantity, they said it was frozen hard enough to bear\nthem and their horses.\nWe sent for this guide, who told us, he would undertake to carry us the\nsame way, with no hazard from the snow, provided we were armed\nsufficiently to protect us from wild beasts: for he said, upon these\ngreat snows, it was frequent for some wolves to show themselves at the\nfoot of the mountains, being made ravenous for want of food, the ground\nbeing covered with snow. We told him we were well enough prepared for\nsuch creatures as they were, if he would ensure us from a kind of\ntwo-legged wolves, which we were told we were in most danger from,\nespecially on the French side of the mountains.\nHe satisfied us there was no danger of that kind in the way that we were\nto go: so we readily agreed to follow him; as did also twelve other\ngentlemen, with their servants, some French, some Spanish, who, as I\nsaid, had attempted to go, and were obliged to come back again.\nAccordingly we all set out from Pampeluna, with our guide, on the\nfifteenth of November; and indeed I was surprised, when, instead of\ngoing forward, he came directly back with us, on the same road that we\ncame from Madrid, above twenty miles; when having passed two rivers, and\ncome into the plain country, we found ourselves in a warm climate again,\nwhere the country was pleasant, and no snow to be seen; but on a sudden,\nturning to the left, he approached the mountains another way; and though\nit is true, the hills and the precipices looked dreadfully, yet he made\nso many tours, such meanders, and led us by such winding ways, we\ninsensibly passed the height of the mountains, without being much\nencumbered with the snow; and all on a sudden he shewed us the pleasant\nfruitful provinces of Languedoc and Gascoigne, all green and\nflourishing; though indeed they were at a great distance, and we had\nsome rough way to pass yet.\nWe were a little uneasy, however, when we found it snowed one whole day\nand a night, so fast, that we could not travel; but he bid us be easy,\nwe should soon be past it all: we found, indeed, that we began to\ndescend every day, and to come more north than before; and so, depending\nupon our guide, we went on.\nIt was about two hours before night, when our guide being something\nbefore us, and not just in sight, out rushed three monstrous wolves, and\nafter them a bear, out of a hollow way, adjoining to a thick wood. Two\nof the wolves flew upon the guide, and had he been half a mile before\nus, he had been devoured indeed, before we could have helped him; one of\nthem fastened upon his horse, and the other attacked the man with that\nviolence, that he had not time, or not presence of mind enough, to draw\nhis pistol, but hallooed and cried out to us most lustily. My man Friday\nbeing next to me, I bid him ride up, and see what was the matter. As\nsoon as Friday came in sight of the man, he hallooed, as loud as the\nother, \u201cO master\u2019 O master!\u201d But, like a bold fellow, rode directly up\nto the man, and with his pistol shot the wolf that attacked him in\nthe head.\nIt was happy for the poor man that it was my man Friday; for he, having\nbeen used to that kind of creature in his country, had no fear upon him,\nbut went close up to him, and shot him as above; whereas any of us would\nhave fired at a farther distance, and have perhaps either missed the\nwolf, or endangered shooting the man.\nBut it was enough to have terrified a bolder man than I, and indeed it\nalarmed all our company, when, with the noise of Friday\u2019s pistol, we\nheard on both sides the dismallest howlings of wolves, and the noise\nredoubled by the echo of the mountains, that it was to us as if there\nhad been a prodigious multitude of them; and perhaps indeed there was\nnot such a few, as that we had no cause of apprehensions.\nHowever, as Friday had killed this wolf, the other, that had fastened\nupon the horse, left him immediately, and fled, having happily fastened\nupon his head, where the bosses of the bridle had stuck in his teeth, so\nthat he had not done him much hurt; the man, indeed, was most hurt; for\nthe raging creature had bit him twice, once on the arm, and the other\ntime a little above his knee; and he was just as it were tumbling down\nby the disorder of the horse, when Friday came up and shot the wolf.\nIt is easy to suppose, that at the noise of Friday\u2019s pistol we all\nmended our pace, and rid up as fast as the way (which was very\ndifficult) would give us leave, to see what was the matter. As soon as\nwe came clear of the trees which blinded us before, we saw plainly what\nhad been the case, and how Friday had disengaged the poor guide; though\nwe did not presently discern what kind of creature it was he had killed.\nBut never was a fight managed so hardily, and in such a surprising\nmanner, as that which followed between Friday and the bear, which gave\nus all (though at first we were surprised and afraid for him) the\ngreatest diversion imaginable. As the bear is a heavy, clumsy creature,\nand does not gallop as the wolf does, which is swift and light; so he\nhas two particular qualities, which generally are the rule of his\nactions: first, as to men, who are not his proper prey, I say not his\nproper prey, because though I can\u2019t say what excessive hunger might do,\nwhich was now their case, the ground being all covered with snow; yet as\nto men, he does not usually attempt them, unless they first attack him;\non the contrary, if you meet him in the woods, if you don\u2019t meddle with\nhim, he won\u2019t meddle with you; yet then you must take care to be very\ncivil to him, and give him the road; for he is a very nice gentleman, he\nwon\u2019t go a step out of the way for a prince; nay, if you are really\nafraid, your best way is to look another way, and keep going on; for\nsometimes, if you stop, and stand still, and look steadfastly at him, he\ntakes it for an affront; and if you throw or toss any thing at him, and\nit hits him, though it were but a bit of stick as big as your finger, he\ntakes it for an affront, and sets all other business aside to pursue his\nrevenge; for he will have satisfaction in point of honour, and this is\nhis first quality; the next is, that if he be once affronted, he will\nnever leave you, night or day, till he has his revenge, but follow at a\ngood round rate till he overtakes you.\nMy man Friday had delivered our guide, and when we came up to him, he\nwas helping him off from his horse; for the man was both hurt and\nfrighted, and indeed the last more than the first; when, on a sudden, we\nespied the bear come out of the wood, and a very monstrous one it was,\nthe biggest by far that ever I saw: we were all a little surprised when\nwe saw him; but when Friday saw him, it was easy to see joy and courage\nin the fellow\u2019s countenance: \u201cO! O! O!\u201d says Friday, three times,\npointing to him, \u201cO master! you give me te leave, me shakee te hand with\nhim, me makee you good laugh.\u201d\nI was surprised to see the fellow so pleased: \u201cYou fool you,\u201d said I,\n\u201che will eat you up.\u201d\u2014\u201cEatee me up! eatee me up!\u201d says Friday, twice\nover again; \u201cme eatee him up; me make you good laugh; you all stay here,\nme shew you good laugh.\u201d So down he sits and gets his boots off in a\nmoment, and put on a pair of pumps, (as we call the flat shoes they\nwear) and which he had in his pocket, and gives my other servant his\nhorse, and with his gun away he flew, swift like the wind.\nThe bear was walking softly on, and offered to meddle with nobody, till\nFriday coming pretty near, calls to him, as if the bear could understand\nhim: \u201cHark ye, hark ye,\u201d says Friday, \u201cme speakee wit you,\u201d We followed\nat a distance; for now being come down to the Gascoigne side of the\nmountains, we were entered a vast great forest, where the country was\nplain, and pretty open, though many trees in it scattered here\nand there.\nFriday, who had, as we say, the heels of the bear, came up with him\nquickly, and takes up a great stone, and throws at him, and hit him just\non the head; but did him no more harm than if he had thrown it against a\nwall; but it answered Friday\u2019s end; for the rogue was so void of fear,\nthat he did it purely to make the bear follow him, and shew us some\nlaugh, as he called it.\nAs soon as the bear felt the stone, and saw him, he turns about, and\ncomes after him, taking devilish long strides, and strolling along at a\nstrange rate, so as he would put a horse to a middling gallop. Away runs\nFriday, and takes his course, as if he ran towards us for help; so we\nall resolved to fire at once upon the bear, and deliver my man; though I\nwas angry at him heartily for bringing the bear back upon us, when he\nwas going about his own business another way; and especially I was angry\nthat he had turned the bear upon us, and then run away; and I called\nout, \u201cYou dog,\u201d said I, \u201cis this your making us laugh? Come away, and\ntake your horse, that we may shoot the creature.\u201d He hears me, and cries\nout, \u201cNo shoot, no shoot, stand still, you get much laugh;\u201d and as the\nnimble creature ran two feet for the beast\u2019s one, he turned on a sudden,\non one side of us, and seeing a great oak tree, fit for his purpose, he\nbeckoned us to follow, and doubling his pace, he gets nimbly up the\ntree, laying his gun down upon the ground, at about five or six yards\nfrom the bottom of the tree.\nThe bear soon came to the tree, and we followed at a distance. The first\nthing he did, he stopped at the gun, smelt to it, but let it lie, and up\nhe scrambles into the tree, climbing like a cat, though so monstrous\nheavy. I was amazed at the folly, as I thought it, of my man, and could\nnot for my life see any thing to laugh at yet, till seeing the bear get\nup the tree, we all rode nearer to him.\nWhen we came to the tree, there was Friday got out to the small of a\nlarge limb of the tree, and the bear got about half way to him. As soon\nas the bear got out to that part where the limb of the tree was weaker,\n\u201cHa,\u201d says he to us, \u201cnow you see me teachee the bear dance;\u201d so he\nfalls a-jumping, and shaking the bough, at which the bear began to\ntotter, but stood still, and began to look behind him, to see how he\nshould get back; then indeed we did laugh heartily. But Friday had not\ndone with him by a great deal: when he sees him stand still, he calls\nout to him again, as if he had supposed the bear could speak English,\n\u201cWhat, you come no farther? Pray you come farther.\u201d So he left jumping\nand shaking the bough; and the bear, just as if he understood what he\nsaid, did come a little farther; then he fell a-jumping again, and the\nbear stopped again.\nWe thought now was a good time to knock him on the head, and called to\nFriday to stand still, and we would shoot the bear; but he cried out\nearnestly, \u201cO pray! O pray! no shoot, me shoot by and then;\u201d he would\nhave said by and by. However, to shorten the story, Friday danced so\nmuch, and the bear stood so ticklish, that we had laughing enough\nindeed, but still could not imagine what the fellow would do; for first\nwe thought he depended upon shaking the bear off; and we found the bear\nwas too cunning for that too; for he would not get out far enough to be\nthrown down, but clings fast with his great broad claws and feet, so\nthat we could not imagine what would be the end of it, and where the\njest would be at last.\nBut Friday put us out of doubt quickly; for seeing the bear cling fast\nto the bough, and that he would not be persuaded to come any farther;\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d said Friday, \u201cyou no come farther, me go, me go; you no\ncome to me, me come to you;\u201d and upon this he goes out to the smallest\nend of the bough, where it would bend with his weight, and gently lets\nhimself down by it, sliding down the bough, till he came near enough to\njump down on his feet; and away he ran to his gun, takes it up, and\nstands still.\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I to him, \u201cFriday, what will you do now? Why don\u2019t you\nshoot him?\u201d\u2014\u201cNo shoot,\u201d says Friday, \u201cno yet; me shoot now me no kill;\nme stay, give you one more laugh;\u201d and indeed so he did, as you will see\npresently; for when the bear saw his enemy gone, he comes back from the\nbough where he stood, but did it mighty leisurely, looking behind him\nevery step, and coming backward till he got into the body of the tree;\nthen with the same hinder end foremost, he came down the tree; grasping\nit with his claws, and moving one foot at a time, very leisurely. At\nthis juncture, and just before he could set his hind feet upon the\nground, Friday stepped close to him, clapped the muzzle of his piece\ninto his ear, and shot him as dead as a stone.\nThen the rogue turned about to see if we did not laugh; and when he saw\nwe were pleased by our looks, he falls a-laughing himself very loud; \u201cSo\nwe kill bear in my country,\u201d says Friday. \u201cSo you kill them?\u201d said I;\n\u201cwhy, you have no guns.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo,\u201d says he, \u201cno guns, but shoot great much\nlong arrow.\u201d\nThis was, indeed, a good diversion to us; but we were still in a wild\nplace, and our guide very much hurt, and what to do we hardly knew: the\nhowling of wolves ran much in my head; and indeed except the noise I\nonce heard on the shore of Africa, of which I have said something\nalready, I never heard any thing that filled me with so much horror.\nThese things, and the approach of night, called us off, or else, as\nFriday would have had us, we should certainly have taken the skin of\nthis monstrous creature off, which was worth saving; but we had three\nleagues to go, and our guide hastened us; so we left him, and went\nforward on our journey.\nThe ground was still covered with snow, though not so deep and dangerous\nas on the mountains; and the ravenous creatures, as we heard afterwards,\nwere come down into the forest and plain country, pressed by hunger, to\nseek for food, and had done a great deal of mischief in the villages,\nwhere they surprised the country-people, killed a great many of their\nsheep and horses, and some people too.\nWe had one dangerous place to pass, of which our guide told us, if there\nwere any more wolves in the country, we should find them there; and this\nwas a small plain, surrounded with woods on every side, and a long\nnarrow defile or lane, which we were to pass to get through the wood,\nand then we should come to the village where we were to lodge.\nIt was within half an hour of sunset when we entered the first wood; and\na little after sunset, when we came into the plain. We met with nothing\nin the first wood, except that in a little plain within the wood, which\nwas not above two furlongs over, we saw five great wolves cross the\nroad, full speed one after another, as if they had been in chase of some\nprey, and had it in view: they took no notice of us, and were gone and\nout of sight in a few moments.\nUpon this our guide, who, by the way, was a wretched faint-hearted\nfellow, bade us keep in a ready posture; for he believed there were more\nwolves a-coming.\nWe kept our arms ready, and our eyes about us; but we saw no more wolves\ntill we came through that wood, which was near half a league, and\nentered the plain: as soon as we came into the plain, we had occasion\nenough to look about us. The first object we met with was a dead horse,\nthat is to say, a poor horse which the wolves had killed, and at least a\ndozen of them at work; we could not say eating of him, but picking of\nhis bones rather; for they had eaten up all the flesh before.\nWe did not think fit to disturb them at their feast, neither did they\ntake much notice of us: Friday would have let fly at them, but I would\nnot suffer him by any means; for I found we were like to have more\nbusiness upon our hands than we were aware of. We were not half gone\nover the plain, but we began to hear the wolves howl in the woods, on\nour left, in a frightful manner; and presently after we saw about a\nhundred coming on directly towards us, all in a body, and most of them\nin a line, as regularly as an army drawn up by experienced officers. I\nscarce knew in what manner to receive them; but found to draw ourselves\nin a close line was the only way; so we formed in a moment; but, that we\nmight not have too much interval, I ordered, that only every other man\nshould fire; and that the others, who had not fired, should stand ready\nto give them a second volley immediately, if they continued to advance\nupon us; and that then those who had fired at first, should not pretend\nto load their fusils again, but stand ready, with every one a pistol,\nfor we were all armed with a fusil and a pair of pistols each man; so we\nwere, by this method, able to fire six vollies, half of us at a time;\nhowever, at present we had no necessity; for, upon firing the first\nvolley, the enemy made a full stop, being terrified, as well with the\nnoise as with the fire; four of them being shot in the head, dropped;\nseveral others were wounded, and went bleeding off, as we could see by\nthe snow. I found they stopped, but did not immediately retreat;\nwhereupon, remembering that I had been told, that the fiercest creatures\nwere terrified at the voice of a man, I caused all our company to halloo\nas loud as we could, and I found the notion not altogether mistaken; for\nupon our shout, they began to retire, and turn about; then I ordered a\nsecond volley to be fired in their rear, which put them to the gallop,\nand away they went to the woods.\nThis gave us leisure to charge our pieces again, and that we might lose\nno time, we kept doing; but we had but little more than loaded our\nfusils, and put ourselves into a readiness, when we heard a terrible\nnoise in the same wood on our left; only that it was farther onward the\nsame way we were to go.\nThe night was coming on, and the night began to be dusky, which made it\nthe worse on our side; but, the noise increasing, we could easily\nperceive that it was the howling and yelling of those hellish creatures;\nand, on a sudden, we perceived two or three troops of wolves on our\nleft, one behind us, and one on our front, so that we seemed to be\nsurrounded with them; however, as they did not fall upon us, we kept our\nway forward, as fast as we could make our horses go, which, the way\nbeing very rough, was only a good large trot; and in this manner we only\ncame in view of the entrance of the wood through which we were to pass,\nat the farther side of the plain; but we were greatly surprised, when,\ncoming near the lane, or pass, we saw a confused number of wolves\nstanding just at the entrance.\nOn a sudden, at another opening of the wood, we heard the noise of a\ngun; and, looking that way, out rushed a horse, with a saddle and a\nbridle on him, flying like the wind, and sixteen or seventeen wolves\nafter him full speed: indeed the horse had the heels of them; but as we\nsupposed that he could not hold it at that rate, we doubted not but they\nwould get up with him at last; and no question but they did.\nHere we had a most horrible sight; for, riding up to the entrance where\nthe horse came out, we found the carcass of another horse, and of two\nmen devoured by these ravenous creatures, and of one the man was no\ndoubt the same whom we heard fire a gun, for there lay a gun just by him\nfired off; but as to the man, his head, and the upper part of his body,\nwere eaten up.\nThis filled us with horror, and we knew not what course to take; but the\ncreatures resolved us soon, for they gathered about us presently, in\nhopes of prey; and I verily believe there were three hundred of them. It\nhappened very much to our advantage, that at the entrance into the wood,\nbut a little way from it, there by some large timber trees, which had\nbeen cut down the summer before, and I suppose lay there for carriage: I\ndrew my little troop in among these trees, and placing ourselves in a\nline behind one long tree, I advised them all to alight, and keeping\nthat tree before us for a breastwork, to stand in a triangle, or three\nfronts, enclosing our horses in the centre.\nWe did so, and it was well we did; for never was a more furious charge\nthan the creatures made upon us in this place; they came on us with a\ngrowling kind of a noise, and mounted the piece of timber (which, as I\nsaid, was our breastwork,) as if they were only rushing upon their prey;\nand this fury of theirs, it seems, was principally occasioned by their\nseeing our horses behind us, which was the prey they aimed at. I ordered\nour men to fire as before, every man; and they took their aim so sure,\nthat indeed they killed several of the wolves at the first volley; but\nthere was a necessity to keep a continual firing, for they came on like\ndevils, those behind pushing on those before.\nWhen we had fired our second volley of fusils, we thought they stopped a\nlittle, and I hoped they would have gone off, but it was but a moment,\nfor others came forward again; so we fired our vollies of pistols; and I\nbelieve in these four firings we killed seventeen or eighteen of them,\nand lamed twice as many; yet they came on again.\nI was loath to spend our last shot too hastily; so I called my servant,\nnot my man Friday, for he was better employed; for, with the greatest\ndexterity imaginable, he charged my fusil and his own, while we were\nengaged; but, as I said, I called my other man; and giving him a horn of\npowder, I bade him lay a train all along the piece of timber, and let it\nbe a large train; he did so, and had but time to get away, when the\nwolves came up to it, and some were got up upon it; when I, snapping an\nuncharged pistol close to the powder, set it on fire; and those that\nwere upon the timber were scorched with it, and six or seven of them\nfell, or rather jumped in among us, with the force and fright of the\nfire; we dispatched these in an instant, and the rest were so frighted\nwith the light, which the night, for now it was very near dark, made\nmore terrible, that they drew back a little.\nUpon which I ordered our last pistols to be fired off in one volley, and\nafter that we gave a shout; upon this the wolves turned tail, and we\nsallied immediately upon near twenty lame ones, which we found\nstruggling on the ground, and fell a-cutting them with our swords, which\nanswered our expectation; for the crying and howling they made were\nbetter understood by their fellows; so that they fled and left us.\nWe had, first and last, killed about three score of them; and had it\nbeen daylight, we had killed many more. The field of battle being thus\ncleared, we made forward again; for we had still near a league to go. We\nheard the ravenous creatures howl and yell in the woods as we went,\nseveral times; and sometimes we fancied we saw some of them, but the\nsnow dazzling our eyes, we were not certain; so in about an hour more we\ncame to the town, where we were to lodge, which we found in a terrible\nfright, and all in arms; for it seems, that, the night before, the\nwolves and some bears had broken into that village, and put them in a\nterrible fright; and they were obliged to keep guard night and day, but\nespecially in the night, to preserve their cattle, and indeed\ntheir people.\nThe next morning our guide was so ill, and his limbs so swelled with the\nrankling of his two wounds, that he could go no farther; so we were\nobliged to take a new guide there, and go to Tholouse, where we found a\nwarm climate, a fruitful pleasant country, and no snow, no wolves, or\nany thing like them; but when we told our story at Tholouse, they told\nus it was nothing but what was ordinary in the great forest at the foot\nof the mountains, especially when the snow lay on the ground; but they\ninquired much what kind of a guide we had gotten, that would venture to\nbring us that way in such a severe season; and told us, it was very much\nwe were not all devoured. When we told them how we placed ourselves, and\nthe horses in the middle, they blamed us exceedingly, and told us it was\nfifty to one but we had been all destroyed; for it was the sight of the\nhorses that made the wolves so furious, seeing their prey; and that at\nother times they are really afraid of a gun; but they being excessive\nhungry, and raging on that account, the eagerness to come at the horses\nhad made them senseless of danger; and that if we had not by the\ncontinued fire, and at last by the stratagem of the train of powder,\nmastered them, it had been great odds but that we had been torn to\npieces; whereas, had we been content to have sat still on horseback, and\nfired as horsemen, they would not have taken the horses so much for\ntheir own, when men were on their backs, as otherwise; and withal they\ntold us, that at last, if we had stood all together, and left our\nhorses, they would have been so eager to have devoured them, that we\nmight have come off safe, especially having our fire-arms in our hands,\nand being so many in number.\nFor my part, I was never so sensible of danger in my life; for seeing\nabove three hundred devils come roaring and open-mouthed to devour us,\nand having nothing to shelter us, or retreat to, I gave myself over for\nlost; and as it was, I believe, I shall never care to cross those\nmountains again; I think I would much rather go a thousand leagues by\nsea, though I were sure to meet with a storm once a week.\nI have nothing uncommon to take notice of in my passage through France;\nnothing but what other travellers have given an account of, with much\nmore advantage than I can. I travelled from Tholouse to Paris, and\nwithout any considerable stay came to Calais, and landed safe at Dover,\nthe fourteenth of January, after having had a severe cold season to\ntravel in.\nI was now come to the centre of my travels, and had in a little time all\nmy new-discovered estate safe about me, the bills of exchange, which I\nbrought with me, having been very currently paid.\nMy principal guide and privy-counsellor was my good ancient widow, who,\nin gratitude for the money I had sent her, thought no pains too much, or\ncare too great, to employ for me; and I trusted her so entirely with\nevery thing, that I was perfectly easy as to the security of my effects;\nand indeed I was very happy from my beginning, and now to the end, in\nthe unspotted integrity of this good gentlewoman.\nAnd now I began to think of leaving my effects with this woman, and\nsetting out for Lisbon, and so to the Brasils. But now another scruple\ncame in the way, and that was religion; for as I had entertained some\ndoubts about the Roman religion, even while I was abroad, especially in\nmy state of solitude; so I knew there was no going to the Brasils for\nme, much less going to settle there, unless I resolved to embrace the\nRoman Catholic religion, without any reserve; except on the other hand I\nresolved to be a sacrifice to my principles, be a martyr for religion,\nand die in the Inquisition: so I resolved to stay at home, and, if I\ncould find means for it, to dispose of my plantation.\nTo this purpose I wrote to my old friend at Lisbon, who in return gave\nme notice, that he could easily dispose of it there: but that if I\nthought fit to give him leave to offer it in my name to the two\nmerchants, the survivors of my trustees, who lived in the Brasils, who\nmust fully understand the value of it, who lived just upon the spot, and\nwho I knew to be very rich, so that he believed they would be fond of\nbuying it; he did not doubt, but I should make 4 or 5000 pieces of eight\nthe more of it.\nAccordingly I agreed, gave him orders to offer it to them, and he did\nso; and in about eight months more, the ship being then returned, he\nsent me an account, that they had accepted the offer, and had remitted\n33,000 pieces of eight to a correspondent of theirs at Lisbon, to\npay for it.\nIn return, I signed the instrument of sale in the form which they sent\nfrom Lisbon, and sent it to my old man, who sent me the bills of\nexchange for 32,800 pieces of eight for the estate; reserving the\npayment of 100 moidores a year, to him (the old man) during his life,\nand 50 moidores afterwards to his son for his life, which I had promised\nthem; and which the plantation was to make good as a rent charge. And\nthus I have given the first part of a life of fortune and adventure, a\nlife of Providence\u2019s chequer-work, and of a variety which the world will\nseldom be able to shew the like of: beginning foolishly, but closing\nmuch more happily than any part of it ever gave me leave to much as\nto hope for.\nAny one would think, that in this state of complicated good fortune, I\nwas past running any more hazards, and so indeed I had been, if other\ncircumstances had concurred: but I was inured to a wandering life, had\nno family, nor many relations; nor, however rich, had I contracted much\nacquaintance; and though I had sold my estate in the Brasils, yet I\ncould not keep that country out of my head, and had a great mind to be\nupon the wing again; especially I could not resist the strong\ninclination I had to see my island, and to know if the poor Spaniards\nwere in being there; and how the rogues I left there had used them.\nMy true friend the widow earnestly dissuaded me from it, and so far\nprevailed with me, that almost for seven years she prevented my running\nabroad; during which time I took my two nephews, the children of one of\nmy brothers, into my care: the eldest having something of his own, I\nbred up as a gentleman and gave him a settlement of some addition to his\nestate, after my decease; the other I put out to a captain of a ship;\nand after five years, finding him a sensible, bold, enterprising young\nfellow, I put him into a good ship, and sent him to sea: and this young\nfellow afterwards drew me in, as old as I was, to farther\nadventures myself.\nIn the meantime, I in part settled myself here; for, first of all, I\nmarried, and that not either to my disadvantage or dissatisfaction; and\nhad three children, two sons and one daughter: but my wife dying, and my\nnephew coming home with good success from a voyage to Spain, my\ninclination to go abroad, and his importunity, prevailed, and engaged me\nto go in his ship as a private trader to the East Indies. This in the\nyear 1694.\nIn this voyage I visited my new colony in the island, saw my successors\nthe Spaniards, had the whole story of their lives, and of the villains I\nleft there; how at first they insulted the poor Spaniards, how they\nafterwards agreed, disagreed, united, separated, and how at last the\nSpaniards were obliged to use violence with them; how they were\nsubjected to the Spaniards; how honestly the Spaniards used them; an\nhistory, if it were entered into, as full of variety and wonderful\naccidents as my own part: particularly also as to their battles with the\nCaribbeans, who landed several times upon the island, and as to the\nimprovement they made upon the island itself; and how five of them made\nan attempt upon the main land, and brought away eleven men and five\nwomen prisoners; by which, at my coming, I found about twenty young\nchildren on the island.\nHere I stayed about twenty days; left them supplies of all necessary\nthings, and particularly of arms, powder, shot, clothes, tools, and two\nworkmen, which I brought from England with me; viz. a carpenter and\na smith.\nBesides this, I shared the lands into parts with them, reserved to\nmyself the property of the whole, but gave them such parts respectively,\nas they agreed on; and, having settled all things with them, and engaged\nthem not to leave the place, I left them there.\nFrom thence I touched at the Brasils, from whence I sent a bark, which I\nbought there, with more people to the island; and in it, besides other\nsupplies, I sent seven women, being such as I found proper for service,\nor for wives to such as would take them. As for the Englishmen, I\npromised them to send them some women from England, with a good cargo of\nnecessaries, if they would apply themselves to planting; which I\nafterwards could not perform: the fellows proved very honest and\ndiligent, after they were mastered, and had their properties set apart\nfor them, I sent them also from the Brasils five cows, three of them\nbeing big with calf, some sheep, and some hogs, which, when I came\nagain, were considerably increased.\nBut all these things, with an account how three hundred Caribbees came\nand invaded them, and ruined their plantations, and how they fought with\nthat whole number twice, and were at first defeated and some of them\nkilled; but at last a storm destroying their enemies\u2019 canoes, they\nfamished or destroyed almost all the rest, and renewed and recovered the\npossession of their plantation, and still lived upon the island:\u2014\nAll these things, with some very surprising incidents in some new\nadventures of my own, for ten years more I may, perhaps, give a further\naccount of hereafter.\nThat homely proverb used on so many occasions in England, viz. \u201cThat\nwhat is bred in the bone will not go out of the flesh,\u201d was never more\nverified than in the story of my Life. Any one would think, that after\nthirty-five years affliction, and a variety of unhappy circumstances,\nwhich few men, if any, ever went through before, and after near seven\nyears of peace and enjoyment in the fulness of all things; grown old,\nand when, if ever, it might be allowed me to have had experience of\nevery state of middle life, and to know which was most adapted to make a\nman completely happy; I say, after all this, any one would have thought\nthat the native propensity to rambling, which I gave an account of in my\nfirst setting out into the world to have been so predominant in my\nthoughts, should be worn out, the volatile part be fully evacuated, or\nat least condensed, and I might at sixty-one years of age have been a\nlittle inclined to stay at home, and have done venturing life and\nfortune any more.\nNay farther, the common motive of foreign adventures was taken away in\nme; for I had no fortune to make, I had nothing to seek: if I had gained\nten thousand pounds, I had been no richer; for I had already sufficient\nfor me, and for those I had to leave it to, and that I had was visibly\nincreasing; for having no great family, I could not spend the income of\nwhat I had, unless I would set up for an expensive way of living, such\nas a great family, servants, equipage, gaiety, and the like, which were\nthings I had no notion of, or inclination to; so that I had nothing\nindeed to do, but to sit still, and fully enjoy what I had got, and see\nit increase daily upon my hands.\nYet all these things, had no effect upon me, or at least not enough to\nresist the strong inclination I had to go abroad again, which hung about\nme like a chronical distemper; particularly the desire of seeing my new\nplantation in the island, and the colony I left there, ran in my head\ncontinually. I dreamed of it all night, and my imagination ran upon it\nall day; it was uppermost in all my thoughts, and my fancy worked so\nsteadily and strongly upon it, that I talked of it in my sleep; in\nshort, nothing could remove it out of my mind; it even broke so\nviolently into all my discourses, that it made my conversation tiresome;\nfor I could talk of nothing else, all my discourse ran into it, even to\nimpertinence, and I saw it myself.\nI have often heard persons of good judgment say, that all the stir\npeople make in the world about ghosts and apparitions, is owing to the\nstrength of imagination, and the powerful operation of fancy in their\nminds; that there is no such thing as a spirit appearing, or a ghost\nwalking, and the like; that people\u2019s poring affectionately upon the past\nconversation of their deceased friends so realizes it to them, that they\nare capable of fancying upon some extraordinary circumstances that they\nsee them, talk to them, and are answered by them, when, in truth, there\nis nothing but shadow and vapour in the thing; and they really know\nnothing of the matter.\nFor my part, I know not to this hour whether there are any such things\nas real apparitions, spectres, or walking of people after they are dead,\nor whether there is any thing in the stories they tell us of that kind,\nmore than the product of vapours, sick minds, and wandering fancies. But\nthis I know, that my imagination worked up to such a height, and brought\nme into such excess of vapours, or what else I may call it, that I\nactually supposed myself oftentimes upon the spot, at my old castle\nbehind the trees, saw my old Spaniard, Friday\u2019s father, and the\nreprobate sailors whom I left upon the island; nay, I fancied I talked\nwith them, and looked at them so steadily, though I was broad awake, as\nat persons just before me; and this I did till I often frightened myself\nwith the images my fancy represented to me: one time in my sleep I had\nthe villany of the three pirate sailors so lively related to me, by the\nfirst Spaniard and Friday\u2019s father, that it was surprising; they told me\nhow they barbarously attempted to murder all the Spaniards, and that\nthey set fire to the provisions they had laid up, on purpose to distress\nand starve them; things that I had never heard of, and that were yet all\nof them true in fact; but it was so warm in my imagination, and so\nrealized to me, that to the hour I saw them, I could not be persuaded\nbut that it was or would be true; also how I resented it when the\nSpaniard complained to me, and how I brought them to justice, tried them\nbefore me, and ordered them all three to be hanged. What there was\nreally in this, shall be seen in its place; for however I came to form\nsuch things in my dream, and what secret converse of spirits injected\nit, yet there was, I say, very much of it true. I own, that this dream\nhad nothing literally and specifically true; but the general part was so\ntrue, the base and villanous behaviour of these three hardened rogues\nwas such, and had been so much worse than all I can describe, that the\ndream had too much similitude of the fact; and as I would afterwards\nhave punished them severely, so if I had hanged them all, I had been\nmuch in the right, and should have been justifiable both by the laws of\nGod and man.\nBut to return to my story.\u2014In this kind of temper I had lived some\nyears, I had no enjoyment of my life, no pleasant hours, no agreeable\ndiversion but what had something or other of this in it; so that my\nwife, who saw my mind so wholly bent upon it, told me very seriously one\nnight, that she believed there was some secret powerful impulse of\nProvidence upon me, which had determined me to go thither again; and\nthat she found nothing hindered my going, but my being engaged to a wife\nand children. She told me, that it was true she could not think of\nparting with me; but as she was assured, that if she was dead it would\nbe the first thing I would do; so, as it seemed to her that the thing\nwas determined above, she would not be the only obstruction; for if I\nthought fit, and resolved to go\u2014Here she found me very intent upon her\nwords, and that I looked very earnestly at her; so that it a little\ndisordered her, and she stopped. I asked her why she did not go on, and\nsay out what she was going to say? But I perceived her heart was too\nfull, and some tears stood in her eyes: \u201cSpeak out, my dear,\u201d said I;\n\u201care you willing I should go?\u201d\u2014\u201cNo,\u201d says she, very affectionately, \u201cI\nam far from willing: but if you are resolved to go,\u201d says she, \u201cand\nrather than I will be the only hindrance, I will go with you; for though\nI think it a preposterous thing for one of your years, and in your\ncondition, yet if it must be,\u201d said she again, weeping, \u201cI won\u2019t leave\nyou; for if it be of Heaven, you must do it; there is no resisting it;\nand if Heaven makes it your duty to go, he will also make it mine to go\nwith you, or otherwise dispose of me, that I may not obstruct it.\u201d\nThis affectionate behaviour of my wife brought me a little out of the\nvapours, and I began to consider what I was doing; I corrected my\nwandering fancy, and began to argue with myself sedately, what business\nI had, after threescore years, and after such a life of tedious\nsufferings and disasters, and closed in so happy and easy a manner, I\nsay, what business had I to rush into new hazards, and put myself upon\nadventures, fit only for youth and poverty to run into?\nWith those thoughts, I considered my new engagement; that I had a wife,\none child born, and my wife then great with child of another; that I had\nall the world could give me and had no need to seek hazards for gain;\nthat I was declining in years, and ought to think rather of leaving what\nI had gained, than of seeking to increase it; that as to what my wife\nhad said, of its being an impulse from Heaven, and that it should be my\nduty to go, I had no notion of that; so after many of these cogitations,\nI struggled with the power of my imagination, reasoned myself out of it,\n_as I believe people may always do in like cases, if they will_; and, in\na word, I conquered it; composed myself with such arguments as occurred\nto my thoughts, and which my present condition furnished me plentifully\nwith; and particularly, as the most effectual method, I resolved to\ndivert myself with other things, and to engage in some business that\nmight effectually tie me up from any more excursions of this kind; for I\nfound the thing return upon me chiefly when I was idle, had nothing to\ndo, or any thing of moment immediately before me.\nTo this purpose I bought a little farm in the county of Bedford, and\nresolved to remove myself thither. I had a little convenient house upon\nit, and the land about it I found was capable of great improvement, and\nthat it was many ways suited to my inclination, which delighted in\ncultivating, managing, planting, and improving of land; and\nparticularly, being an inland country, I was removed from conversing\namong ships, sailors, and things relating to the remote part of\nthe world.\nIn a word, I went down to my farm, settled my family, bought me ploughs,\nharrows, a cart, waggon, horses, cows, sheep; and setting seriously to\nwork, became in one half year a mere country gentleman; my thoughts were\nentirely taken up in managing my servants, cultivating the ground,\nenclosing, planting, &c.; and I lived, as I thought, the most agreeable\nlife that nature was capable of directing, or that a man always bred to\nmisfortunes was capable of being retreated to.\nI farmed upon my own land, I had no rent to pay, was limited by no\narticles; I could pull up or cut down as I pleased; what I planted was\nfor myself, and what I improved, was for my family; and having thus left\noff the thoughts of wandering, I had not the least discomfort in any\npart of my life, as to this world. Now I thought indeed, that I enjoyed\nthe middle state of life which my father so earnestly recommended to me,\na kind of heavenly life, something like what is described by the poet\nupon the subject of a country life:\n     Free from vices, free from care,\n     Age has no pains, and youth no snare.\nBut in the middle of all this felicity, one blow from unforeseen\nProvidence unhinged me at once; and not only made a breach upon me,\ninevitable and incurable, but drove me, by its consequence, upon a deep\nrelapse into the wandering disposition; which, as I may say, being born\nin my very blood, soon recovered its hold of me, and, like the returns\nof a violent distemper, came on with an irresistible force upon me; so\nthat nothing could make any more impression upon me. This blow was the\nloss of my wife.\nIt is not my business here to write an elegy upon my wife, to give a\ncharacter of her particular virtues, and make my court to the sex by the\nflattery of a funeral sermon. She was, in a few words, the stay of all\nmy affairs, the centre of all my enterprises, the engine that by her\nprudence reduced me to that happy compass I was in, from the most\nextravagant and ruinous project that fluttered in my head as above; and\ndid more to guide my rambling genius, than a mother\u2019s tears, a father\u2019s\ninstructions, a friend\u2019s counsel, or all my own reasoning powers could\ndo. I was happy in listening to her tears, and in being moved by her\nentreaties, and to the last degree desolate and dislocated in the world\nby the loss of her.\nWhen she was gone the world looked awkwardly round me, I was as much a\nstranger in it in my thoughts as I was in the Brasils when I went first\non shore there; and as much alone, except as to the assistance of\nservants, as I was in my island. I knew neither what to do, or what not\nto do; I saw the world busy round me, one part labouring for bread, and\nthe other part squandering in vile excesses or empty pleasures, equally\nmiserable, because the end they proposed still fled from them; for the\nmen of pleasure every day surfeited of their vice, and heaped up work\nfor sorrow and repentance, and the men of labour spent their strength in\ndaily strugglings for bread to maintain the vital strength they laboured\nwith; so living in a daily circulation of sorrow, living but to work,\nand working but to live, as if daily bread were the only end of a\nwearisome life, and a wearisome life the only occasion of daily bread.\nThis put me in mind of the life I lived in my kingdom the island, where\nI suffered no more corn to grow, because I did not want it; and bred no\nmore goats, because I had no more use for them; where the money lay in\nthe drawer till it grew mildewed, and had scarce the favour to be looked\nupon in twenty years.\nAll these things, had I improved them as I ought to have done, and as\nreason and religion had dictated to me, would have taught me to search\nfarther than human enjoyments for a full felicity, and that there was\nsomething which certainly was the reason and end of life, superior to\nall these things, and which was either to be possessed, or at least\nhoped for, on this side the grave.\nBut my sage counsellor was gone, I was like a ship without a pilot, that\ncould only run before the wind; my thoughts run all away again into the\nold affair, my head was quite turned with the whimsies of foreign\nadventures; and all the pleasing innocent amusements of my farm and my\ngarden, my cattle and my family, which before entirely possessed me,\nwere nothing to me, had no relish, and were like music to one that has\nno ear, or food to one that has no taste: in a word, I resolved to leave\noff housekeeping, let my farm, and return to London; and in a few months\nafter I did so.\nWhen I came to London I was still as uneasy as before; I had no relish\nto the place, no employment in it, nothing to do but to saunter about\nlike an idle person, of whom it may be said, he is perfectly useless in\nGod\u2019s creation, and it is not one farthing matter to the rest of his\nkind whether he be dead or alive. This also was the thing which of all\ncircumstances of life was the most my aversion, who had been all my days\nused to an active life; and I would often say to myself, \u201cA state of\nidleness is the very dregs of life;\u201d and indeed I thought I was much\nmore suitably employed when I was twenty-six days making me a\ndeal board.\nIt was now the beginning of the year 1693, when my nephew, whom, as I\nhave observed before, I had brought up to the sea, and had made him\ncommander of a ship, was come home from a short voyage to Bilboa, being\nthe first he had made; he came to me, and told me, that some merchants\nof his acquaintance had been proposing to him to go a voyage for them to\nthe East Indies and to China, as private traders; \u201cAnd now, uncle,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cif you will go to sea with me, I\u2019ll engage to land you upon your\nold habitation in the island, for we are to touch at the Brasils.\u201d\nNothing can be a greater demonstration of a future state, and of the\nexistence of an invisible world, than the concurrence of second causes\nwith the ideas of things which we form in our minds, perfectly reserved,\nand not communicated to any in the world.\nMy nephew knew nothing how far my distemper of wandering was returned\nupon me, and I knew nothing of what he had in his thoughts to say, when\nthat very morning, before he came to me, I had, in a great deal of\nconfusion of thought, and revolving every part of my circumstances in my\nmind, come to this resolution, viz. that I would go to Lisbon, and\nconsult with my old sea-captain; and so, if it was rational and\npracticable, I would go and see the island again, and see what was\nbecome of my people there. I had pleased myself also with the thoughts\nof peopling the place, and carrying inhabitants from hence, getting a\npatent for the possession, and I know not what; when in the middle of\nall this, in comes my nephew, as I have said, with his project of\ncarrying me thither, in his way to the East Indies.\nI paused awhile at his words, and looking steadily at him, \u201cWhat devil,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201csent you of this unlucky errand?\u201d My nephew startled, as if he\nhad been frighted at first; but perceiving I was not much displeased\nwith the proposal, he recovered himself. \u201cI hope it may not be an\nunlucky proposal, Sir,\u201d says he; \u201cI dare say you would be pleased to see\nyour new colony there, where you once reigned with more felicity than\nmost of your brother-monarchs in the world.\u201d\nIn a word, the scheme hit so exactly with my temper, that is to say,\nwith the prepossession I was under, and of which I have said so much,\nthat I told him, in a few words, if he agreed with the merchants I would\ngo with him: but I told him I would not promise to go any farther than\nmy own island. \u201cWhy, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cyou don\u2019t want to be left there\nagain, I hope?\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201ccan you not take me up again in your\nreturn?\u201d He told me, it could not be possible that the merchants would\nallow him to come that way with a loaden ship of such value, it being a\nmonth\u2019s sail out of his way, and might be three or four: \u201cBesides, Sir,\nif I should miscarry,\u201d said he, \u201cand not return at all, then you would\nbe just reduced to the condition you were in before.\u201d\nThis was very rational; but we both found out a remedy for it, which was\nto carry a framed sloop on board the ship, which, being taken in pieces\nand shipped on board the ship, might, by the help of some carpenters,\nwhom we agreed to carry with us, be set up again in the island, and\nfinished, fit to go to sea in a few days.\nI was not long resolving; for indeed the importunities of my nephew\njoined in so effectually with my inclination, that nothing could oppose\nme: on the other hand, my wife being dead, I had nobody concerned\nthemselves so much for me, as to persuade me one way or other, except my\nancient good friend the widow, who earnestly struggled with me to\nconsider my years, my easy circumstances, and the needless hazard of a\nlong voyage; and, above all, my young children: but it was all to no\npurpose; I had an irresistible desire to the voyage; and I told her I\nthought there was something so uncommon in the impressions I had upon\nmy mind for the voyage, that it would be a kind of resisting Providence,\nif I should attempt to stay at home; after which she ceased her\nexpostulations, and joined with me, not only in making provision for my\nvoyage, but also in settling my family affairs in my absence, and\nproviding for the education of my children.\nIn order to this I made my will, and settled the estate I had in such a\nmanner for my children, and placed in such hands, that I was perfectly\neasy and satisfied they would have justice done them, whatever might\nbefal me; and for their education, I left it wholly to my widow, with a\nsufficient maintenance to herself for her care: all which she richly\ndeserved; for no mother could have taken more care in their education,\nor understood it better; and as she lived till I came home, I also lived\nto thank her for it.\nMy nephew was ready to sail about the beginning of January 1694\u20145, and\nI with my man Friday went on board in the Downs the 8th, having, besides\nthat sloop which I mentioned above, a very considerable cargo of all\nkinds of necessary things for my colony, which if I did not find in good\ncondition, I resolved to leave so.\nFirst, I carried with me some servants, whom I purposed to place there\nas inhabitants, or at least to set on work there upon my own account\nwhile I stayed, and either to leave them there, or carry them forward,\nas they should appear willing; particularly, I carried two carpenters, a\nsmith, and a very handy, ingenious fellow, who was a cooper by trade,\nbut was also a general mechanic; for he was dexterous at making wheels,\nand hand-mills to grind corn, was a good turner, and a good potmaker; he\nalso made any thing that was proper to make of earth, or of wood; in a\nword, we called him our Jack of all Trades.\nWith these I carried a tailor, who had offered himself to go passenger\nto the East Indies with my nephew, but afterwards consented to stay on\nour new plantation, and proved a most necessary handy fellow as could\nbe desired, in many other businesses besides that of this trade; for, as\nI observed formerly, necessity arms us for all employments.\nMy cargo, as near as I can recollect, for I have not kept an account of\nthe particulars, consisted of a sufficient quantity of linen, and some\nthin English stuffs for clothing the Spaniards that I expected to find\nthere, and enough of them as by my calculation might comfortably supply\nthem for seven years: if I remember right, the materials which I carried\nfor clothing them, with gloves, hats, shoes, stockings, and all such\nthings as they could want for wearing, amounted to above two hundred\npounds, including some beds, bedding, and household-stuff, particularly\nkitchen utensils, with pots, kettles, pewter, brass, &c. besides near a\nhundred pounds more in iron-work, nails, tools of every kind, staples,\nhooks, hinges, and every necessary thing I could think of.\nI carried also a hundred spare arms, muskets, and fuzees, besides some\npistols, a considerable quantity of shot of all sizes, three or four\ntons of lead, and two pieces of brass cannon; and because I knew not\nwhat time and what extremities I was providing for, I carried an hundred\nbarrels of powder, besides swords, cutlasses, and the iron part of some\npikes and halberts; so that, in short, we had a large magazine of all\nsorts of stores; and I made my nephew carry two small quarter-deck guns\nmore than he wanted for his ship, to leave behind if there was occasion;\nthat when they came there we might build a fort, and man it against all\nsorts of enemies: and indeed I at first thought there would be need\nenough of it all, and much more, if we hoped to maintain our possession\nof the island, as shall be seen in the course of the story.\nI had not such bad luck in this voyage as I had been used to meet with;\nand therefore shall have the less occasion to interrupt the reader, who\nperhaps may be impatient to hear how matters went with my colony; yet\nsome odd accidents, cross winds, and bad weather happened on this first\nsetting out, which made the voyage longer than I expected it at first;\nand I, who had never made but one voyage, viz. my first voyage to\nGuinea, in which I might be said to come back again as the voyage was at\nfirst designed, began to think the same ill fate still attended me; and\nthat I was born to be never contented with being on shore, and yet to be\nalways unfortunate at sea.\nContrary winds first put us to the northward, and we were obliged to put\nin at Galway, in Ireland, where we lay wind bound two-and-thirty days;\nbut we had this satisfaction with the disaster, that provisions were\nhere, exceeding cheap, and in the utmost plenty; so that while we lay\nhere we never touched the ship\u2019s stores, but rather added to them: here\nalso I took several hogs, and two cows with their calves, which I\nresolved, if I had a good passage, to put on shore in my island; but we\nfound occasion to dispose otherwise of them.\nWe set out the 5th of February from Ireland, and had a very fair gale of\nwind for some days; as I remember, it might be about the 20th of\nFebruary in the evening late, when the mate having the watch, came into\nthe round-house, and told us he saw a flash of fire, and heard a gun\nfired; and while he was telling us of it, a boy came in, and told us the\nboatswain heard another. This made us all run out upon the quarter-deck,\nwhere for a while we heard nothing, but in a few minutes we saw a very\ngreat light, and found that there was some very terrible fire at a\ndistance. Immediately we had recourse to our reckonings, in which we all\nagreed that there could be no land that way in which the fire shewed\nitself, no, not for five hundred leagues, for it appeared at W.N.W. Upon\nthis we concluded it must be some ship on fire at sea; and as by our\nhearing the noise of guns just before, we concluded it could not be far\noff, we stood directly towards it, and were presently satisfied we\nshould discover it, because the farther we sailed the greater the light\nappeared, though the weather being hazy we could not perceive any thing\nbut the light for a while; in about half an hour\u2019s sailing, the wind\nbeing fair for us, though not much of it, and the weather clearing up a\nlittle, we could plainly discern that it was a great ship on fire in the\nmiddle of the sea.\nI was most sensibly touched with this disaster, though not at all\nacquainted with the persons engaged in it; I presently recollected my\nformer circumstances, in what condition I was in when taken up by the\nPortugal captain; and how much more deplorable the circumstances of the\npoor creatures belonging to this ship must be if they had no other ship\nin company with them: upon this I immediately ordered that five guns\nshould be fired, one soon after another, that, if possible, we might\ngive notice to them that there was help for them at hand, and that they\nmight endeavour to save themselves in their boat; for though we could\nsee the flame in the ship, yet they, it being night, could see\nnothing of us.\nWe lay by some time upon this, only driving as the burning ship drove,\nwaiting for daylight; when on a sudden, to our great terror, though we\nhad reason to expect it, the ship blew up in the air, and immediately\nsunk. This was terrible, and indeed an afflicting sight, for the sake of\nthe poor men, who, I concluded, must be either all destroyed in the\nship, or be in the utmost distress in their boats in the middle of the\nocean, which, at present, by reason it was dark, I could not see:\nhowever, to direct them as well as I could, I caused lights to be hung\nout in all the parts of the ship where we could, and which we had\nlanterns for, and kept firing guns all the night long; letting them know\nby this, that there was a ship not far off.\nAbout eight o\u2019clock in the morning we discovered the ship\u2019s boats, by\nthe help of our perspective-glasses; and found there were two of them,\nboth thronged with people, and deep in the water; we perceived they\nrowed, the wind being against them; that they saw our ship, and did the\nutmost to make us see them.\nWe immediately spread our ancient, to let them know we saw them; and\nhung a waft out, as a signal for them to come on board; and then made\nmore sail, standing directly to them. In a little more than half an hour\nwe came up with them, and in a word took them all in, being no less than\nsixty-four men, women, and children; for there were a great many\npassengers.\nUpon the whole, we found it was a French merchant-ship of three hundred\ntons, homeward-bound from Quebec, in the river of Canada. The master\ngave us a long account of the distress of his ship, how the fire began\nin the steerage by the negligence of the steersman; but, on his crying\nout for help, was, as everybody thought, entirely put out: but they soon\nfound that some sparks of the first fire had gotten into some part of\nthe ship, so difficult to come at, that they could not effectually\nquench it; and afterwards getting in between the timbers, and within the\nceiling of the ship, it proceeded into the hold, and mastered all the\nskill and all the application they were able to exert.\nThey had no more to do then but to get into their boats, which, to their\ngreat comfort, were pretty large; being their long-boat, and a great\nshallop, besides a small skiff, which was of no great service to them,\nother than to get some fresh water and provisions into her, after they\nhad secured themselves from the fire. They had indeed small hope of\ntheir lives by getting into these boats at that distance from any land;\nonly, as they said well, that they were escaped from the fire, and had a\npossibility, that some ship might happen to be at sea, and might take\nthem in. They had sails, oars, and a compass; and were preparing to make\nthe best of their way to Newfoundland, the wind blowing pretty fair; for\nit blew an easy gale at S.E. by E. They had as much provisions and\nwater, as, with sparing it so as to be next door to starving, might\nsupport them about twelve days; in which, if they had no bad weather,\nand no contrary winds, the captain said, he hoped he might get to the\nbanks of Newfoundland, and might perhaps take some fish to sustain them\ntill they might go on shore. But there were so many chances against them\nin all these cases; such as storms to overset and founder them; rains\nand cold to benumb and perish their limbs; contrary winds to keep them\nout and starve them; that it must have been next to miraculous if they\nhad escaped.\nIn the midst of their consultations, every one being hopeless, and ready\nto despair, the captain with tears in his eyes told me, they were on a\nsudden surprised with the joy of hearing a gun fire, and after that four\nmore; these were the five guns which I caused to be fired at first\nseeing the light: this revived their hearts, and gave them the notice\nwhich, as above, I designed it should, viz. that there was a ship at\nhand for their help.\nIt was upon the hearing these guns, that they took down their masts and\nsails; and the sound coming from the windward, they resolved to lie by\ntill morning. Some time after this, hearing no more guns, they fired\nthree muskets, one a considerable while after another; but these, the\nwind being contrary, we never heard.\nSome time after that again, they were still more agreeably surprised\nwith seeing our lights, and hearing the guns, which, as I have said, I\ncaused to be fired all the rest of the night: this set them to work with\ntheir oars to keep their boats ahead, at least that we might the sooner\ncome up with them; and at last, to their inexpressible joy, they found\nwe saw them.\nIt is impossible for me to express the several gestures, the strange\necstasies, the variety of postures, which these poor delivered people\nran into, to express the joy of their souls at so unexpected a\ndeliverance; grief and fear are easily described; sighs, tears, groans,\nand a very few motions of head and hands, make up the sum of its\nvariety: but an excess of joy, a surprise of joy, has a thousand\nextravagances in it; there were some in tears, some raging and tearing\nthemselves, as if they had been in the greatest agonies of sorrow; some\nstark raving and downright lunatic; some ran about the ship stamping\nwith their feet, others wringing their hands; some were dancing, several\nsinging, some laughing, more crying; many quite dumb, not able to speak\na word; others sick and vomiting, several swooning, and ready to faint;\nand a few were crossing themselves and giving God thanks.\nI would not wrong them neither; there might be many that were thankful\nafterward; but the passion was too strong for them at first, and they\nwere not able to master it; they were thrown into ecstasies and a kind\nof frenzy, and so there were but a very few who were composed and\nserious in their joy.\nPerhaps also the case may have some addition to it, from the particular\ncircumstance of the nation they belonged to; I mean the French, whose\ntemper is allowed to be more volatile, more passionate, and more\nsprightly, and their spirits more fluid, than of other nations. I am not\nphilosopher to determine the cause, but nothing I had ever seen before\ncame up to it: the ecstasies poor Friday, my trusty savage, was in, when\nhe found his father in the boat, came the nearest to it; and the\nsurprise of the master, and his two companions, whom I delivered from\nthe two villains that set them on shore in the island, came a little way\ntowards it; but nothing was to compare to this, either that I saw in\nFriday, or any where else in my life.\nIt is farther observable, that these extravagances did not shew\nthemselves in that different manner I have mentioned, in different\npersons only: but all the variety would appear in a short succession of\nmoments, in one and the same person. A man that we saw this minute dumb,\nand, as it were, stupid and confounded, should the next minute be\ndancing and hallooing like an antic; and the next moment a-tearing his\nhair, or pulling his clothes to pieces, and stamping them under his feet\nlike a madman; a few minutes after that, we should have him all in\ntears, then sick, then swooning; and had not immediate help been had,\nwould in a few moments more have been dead; and thus it was, not with\none or two, or ten or twenty, but with the greatest part of them; and,\nif I remember right, our surgeon was obliged to let above thirty of\nthem blood.\nThere were two priests among them, one an old man, and the other a young\nman; and that which was strangest was, that the oldest man was\nthe worst.\nAs soon as he set his foot on board our ship, and saw himself safe, he\ndropped down stone dead, to all appearance; not the least sign of life\ncould be perceived in him; our surgeon immediately applied proper\nremedies to recover him; and was the only man in the ship that believed\nhe was not dead: and at length he opened a vein in his arm, having first\nchafed and rubbed the part, so as to warm it as much as possible: upon\nthis the blood, which only dropped at first, flowed something freely; in\nthree minutes after the man opened his eyes; and about a quarter of an\nhour after that he spoke, grew better, and, in a little time, quite\nwell; after the blood was stopped he walked about, told us he was\nperfectly well, took a dram of cordial which the surgeon gave him, and\nwas, what we called, come to himself; about a quarter of an hour after\nthis they came running into the cabin to the surgeon, who was bleeding a\nFrench woman that had fainted, and told him the priest was gone stark\nmad. It seems he had begun to revolve the change of his circumstances in\nhis mind, and this put him into an ecstasy of joy: his spirits whirled\nabout faster than the vessels could convey them; the blood grew hot and\nfeverish; and the man was as fit for Bedlam as any creature that ever\nwas in it; the surgeon would not bleed him again in that condition, but\ngave him something to doze and put him to sleep, which, after some time,\noperated upon him, and he waked next morning perfectly composed\nand well.\nThe younger priest behaved himself with great command of his passion,\nand was really an example of a serious, well-governed mind; at his first\ncoming on board the ship, he threw himself flat on his face,\nprostrating himself in thankfulness for his deliverance; in which I\nunhappily and unseasonably disturbed him, really thinking he had been in\na swoon: but he spoke calmly; thanked me; told me he was giving God\nthanks for his deliverance; begged me to leave him a few moments, and\nthat next to his Maker he would give me thanks also.\nI was heartily sorry that I disturbed him, and not only left him, but\nkept others from interrupting him also; he continued in that posture\nabout three minutes, or a little more, after I left him, then came to\nme, as he had said he would, and with a great deal of seriousness and\naffection, but with tears in his eyes, thanked me that had, under God,\ngiven him and so many miserable creatures their lives: I told him, I had\nno room to move him to thank God for it rather than me; for I had seen\nthat he had done that already: but I added, that it was nothing but what\nreason and humanity dictated to all men, and that we had as much reason\nas he to give thanks to God, who had blessed us so far as to make us the\ninstruments of his mercy to so many of his creatures.\nAfter this the young priest applied himself to his country-folks;\nlaboured to compose them; persuaded, entreated, argued, reasoned with\nthem, and did his utmost to keep them within the exercise of their\nreason; and with some he had success, though others were, for a time,\nout of all government of themselves.\nI cannot help committing this to writing, as perhaps it may be useful to\nthose into whose hands it may fall, in the guiding themselves in all the\nextravagances of their passions; for if an excess of joy can carry men\nout to such a length beyond the reach of their reason, what will not the\nextravagances of anger, rage, and a provoked mind, carry us to? And,\nindeed, here I saw reason for keeping an exceeding watch over our\npassions of every kind, as well those of joy and satisfaction, as those\nof sorrow and anger.\nWe were something disordered by these extravagances among our new\nguests for the first day; but when they had been retired, lodgings\nprovided for them as well as our ship would allow, and they had slept\nheartily, as most of them did, being fatigued and frightened, they were\nquite another sort of people the next day.\nNothing of good manners, or civil acknowledgments for the kindness shown\nthem, was wanting; the French, it is known, are naturally apt enough to\nexceed that way. The captain and one of the priests came to me the next\nday; and, desiring to speak with me and my nephew, the commander, began\nto consult with us what should be done with them; and first they told\nus, that as we had saved their lives, so all they had was little enough\nfor a return to us for the kindness received. The captain said, they had\nsaved some money, and some things of value in their boats, catched\nhastily out of the flames: and if we would accept it, they were ordered\nto make an offer of it all to us; they only desired to be set on shore\nsomewhere in our way, where, if possible, they might get a passage\nto France.\nMy nephew was for accepting their money at first word, and to consider\nwhat to do with them afterwards; but I overruled him in that part; for I\nknew what it was to be set on shore in a strange country; and if the\nPortugal captain that took me up at sea had served me so, and took all I\nhad for my deliverance, I must have starved, or have been as much a\nslave at the Brasils as I had been at Barbary, the being sold to a\nMahometan only excepted; and perhaps a Portuguese is not a much better\nmaster than a Turk, if not, in some cases, a much worse.\nI therefore told the French captain that we had taken them up in their\ndistress, it was true; but that it was our duty to do so, as we were\nfellow-creatures, and as we would desire to be so delivered, if we were\nin the like or any other extremity; that we had done nothing for them\nbut what we believed they would have done for us if we had been in their\ncase and they in ours; but that we took them up to serve them, not to\nplunder them; and that it would be a most barbarous thing, to take that\nlittle from them which they had saved out of the fire, and then set them\non shore and leave them; that this would be first to save them from\ndeath and then kill them ourselves; save them from drowning and then\nabandon them to starving; and therefore I would not let the least thing\nbe taken from them: as to setting them on shore, I told them indeed that\nwas an exceeding difficulty to us, for that the ship was bound to the\nEast Indies; and though we were driven out of our course to the westward\na very great way, which perhaps was directed by Heaven on purpose for\ntheir deliverance, yet it was impossible for us wilfully to change our\nvoyage on this particular account; nor could my nephew, the captain,\nanswer it to the freighters, with whom he was under charter-party to\npursue his voyage by the way of Brasil; and all I knew he could do for\nthem was, to put ourselves in the way of meeting with other ships\nhomeward-bound from the West Indies, and get them passage, if possible,\nto England or France.\nThe first part of the proposal was so generous and kind, they could not\nbut be very thankful for it; but they were in a great consternation,\nespecially the passengers, at the notion of being carried away to the\nEast Indies: they then entreated me, that seeing I was driven so far to\nthe westward before I met with them, I would at least keep on the same\ncourse to the banks of Newfoundland, where it was possible I might meet\nsome ship or sloop that they might hire to carry them back to Canada,\nfrom whence they came.\nI thought this was but a reasonable request on their part, and therefore\nI inclined to agree to it; for indeed I considered, that to carry this\nwhole company to the East Indies would not only be an intolerable\nseverity to the poor people, but would be ruining our voyage by\ndevouring all our provisions; so I thought it no breach of\ncharter-party, but what an unforeseen accident made absolutely necessary\nto us; and in which no one could say we were to blame; for the laws of\nGod and nature would have forbid, that we should refuse to take up two\nboats full of people in such a distressed condition; and the nature of\nthe thing, as well respecting ourselves as the poor people, obliged us\nto see them on shore somewhere or other, for their deliverance; so I\nconsented that we would carry them to Newfoundland, if wind and weather\nwould permit; and, if not, that I would carry them to Martinico in the\nWest Indies.\nThe wind continued fresh easterly, but the weather pretty good; and as\nit had blowed continually in the points between N.E. and S.E. a long\ntime, we missed several opportunities of sending them to France; for we\nmet several ships bound to Europe, whereof two were French, from St.\nChristopher\u2019s; but they had been so long beating up against the wind,\nthat they durst take in no passengers for fear of wanting provisions for\nthe voyage, as well for themselves as for those they should take in; so\nwe were obliged to go on. It was about a week after this, that we made\nthe banks of Newfoundland, where, to shorten my story, we put all our\nFrench people on board a bark, which they hired at sea there, to put\nthem on shore, and afterwards to carry them to France, if they could get\nprovisions to victual themselves with: when, I say, all the French went\non shore, I should remember that the young priest I spoke of, hearing we\nwere bound to the East Indies, desired to go the voyage with us, and to\nbe set on shore on the coast of Coromandel: I readily agreed to that;\nfor I wonderfully liked the man, and had very good reason, as will\nappear afterwards; also four of the seamen entered themselves in our\nship, and proved very useful fellows.\nFrom hence we directed our course for the West Indies, steering away S.\nand S. by E. for about twenty days together, sometimes little or no wind\nat all, when we met with another subject for our humanity to work upon,\nalmost as deplorable as that before.\nIt was in the latitude of 27 degrees 5 minutes N. and the 19th day of\nMarch 1684\u20145, when we espied a sail, our course S.E. and by S. We soon\nperceived it was a large vessel, and that she bore up to us; but could\nnot at first know what to make of her, till, after coming a little\nnearer, we found she had lost her main-topmast, fore-mast, and bowsprit;\nand presently she fires a gun as a signal of distress. The weather was\npretty good, wind at N.N.W. a fresh gale, and we soon came to speak\nwith her.\nWe found her a ship of Bristol bound home from Barbadoes, but had been\nblown out of the road at Barbadoes, a few days before she was ready to\nsail, by a terrible hurricane, while the captain and chief mate were\nboth gone on shore; so that beside the terror of the storm, they were\nbut in an indifferent case for good artists to bring the ship home; they\nhad been already nine weeks at sea, and had met with another terrible\nstorm after the hurricane was over, which had blown them quite out of\ntheir knowledge to the westward, and in which they had lost their masts,\nas above; they told us, they expected to have seen the Bahama Islands,\nbut were then driven away again to the south-east by a strong gale of\nwind at N.N.W. the same that blew now, and having no sails to work the\nship with, but a main-course, and a kind of square sail upon a\njury-foremast, which they had set up, they could not lie near the wind,\nbut were endeavouring to stand away for the Canaries.\nBut that which was worst of all, was, that they were almost starved for\nwant of provisions, besides the fatigues they had undergone; their bread\nand flesh was quite gone, they had not an ounce left in the ship, and\nhad had none for eleven days; the only relief they had, was, their water\nwas not all spent, and they had about half a barrel of flour left; they\nhad sugar enough; some succades or sweetmeats they had at first, but\nthey were devoured; and they had seven casks of rum.\nThere was a youth and his mother, and a maid-servant, on board, who were\ngoing passengers, and thinking the ship was ready to sail, unhappily\ncame on board the evening before the hurricane began; and having no\nprovisions of their own left, they were in a more deplorable condition\nthan the rest; for the seamen, being reduced to such an extreme\nnecessity themselves, had no compassion, we may be sure, for the poor\npassengers; and they were indeed in a condition that their misery is\nvery hard to describe.\nI had perhaps not known this part, if my curiosity had not led me, the\nweather being fair, and the wind abated, to go on board the ship: the\nsecond mate, who upon this occasion commanded the ship, had been on\nboard our ship; and he told me indeed, that they had three passengers in\nthe great cabin, that they were in a deplorable condition; \u201cNay,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cI believe they are dead, for I have heard nothing of them for above\ntwo days; and I was afraid to inquire after them,\u201d said he, \u201cfor I had\nnothing to relieve them with.\u201d\nWe immediately applied ourselves to give them what relief we could\nspare; and indeed I had so far overruled things with my nephew, that I\nwould have victualled them, though we had gone away to Virginia, or any\npart of the coast of America, to have supplied ourselves; but there was\nno necessity for that.\nBut now they were in a new danger, for they were afraid of eating too\nmuch, even of that little we gave them. The mate or commander brought\nsix men with him in his boat, but these poor wretches looked like\nskeletons, and were so weak they could hardly sit to their oars; the\nmate himself was very ill, and half-starved, for he declared he had\nreserved nothing from the men, and went share and share alike with them\nin every bit they ate.\nI cautioned him to eat sparingly, but set meat before him immediately,\nand he had not eaten three mouthfuls before he began to be sick, and out\nof order; so he stopped awhile, and our surgeon mixed him up something\nwith some broth, which he said would be to him both food and physic; and\nafter he had taken it, he grew better: in the meantime I forgot not the\nmen; I ordered victuals to be given them, and the poor creatures rather\ndevoured than ate it; they were so exceeding hungry, that they were in a\nmanner ravenous, and had no command of themselves; and two of them ate\nwith so much greediness, that they were in danger of their lives the\nnext morning.\nThe sight of these people\u2019s distress was very moving to me, and brought\nto mind what I had a terrible respect of at my first coming on shore in\nmy island, where I had not the least mouthful of food, or any hopes of\nprocuring it; besides the hourly apprehension I had of being made the\nfood of other creatures. But all the while the mate was thus relating to\nme the miserable condition of the ship\u2019s company, I could not put out of\nmy thought the story he had told me of the three poor creatures in the\ngreat cabin; viz. the mother, her son, and the maid-servant, whom he had\nheard nothing of for two or three days; and whom he seemed to confess\nthey had wholly neglected, their own extremities being so great; by\nwhich I understood that they had really given them no food at all; and\nthat therefore they must be perished, and be all lying dead perhaps on\nthe floor or deck of the cabin.\nAs I therefore kept the mate, whom we then called captain, on board with\nhis men to refresh them, so I also forgot not the starving crew that\nwere left on board, but ordered my own boat to go on board the ship and\nwith my mate and twelve men to carry them a sack of bread, and four or\nfive pieces of beef to boil. Our surgeon charged the men to cause the\nmeat to be boiled while they stayed, and to keep guard in the cook-room,\nto prevent the men\u2019s taking it to eat raw, or taking it out of the pot\nbefore it was well boiled, and then to give every man but a little at a\ntime; and by this caution he preserved the men, who would otherwise have\nkilled themselves with that very food that was given them on purpose to\nsave their lives.\nAt the same time I ordered the mate to go into the great cabin, and see\nwhat condition the poor passengers were in, and, if they were alive, to\ncomfort them and give them what refreshment was proper; and the surgeon\ngave him a large pitcher with some of the prepared broth which he had\ngiven the mate that was on board, and which he did not question would\nrestore them gradually.\nI was not satisfied with this; but, as I said above, having a great mind\nto see the scene of misery, which I knew the ship itself would present\nme with, in a more lively manner than I could have it by report, I took\nthe captain of the ship, as we now called him, with me, and went myself\na little after in their boat.\nI found the poor men on board almost in a tumult to get the victuals out\nof the boiler before it was ready; but my mate observed his order, and\nkept a good guard at the cook-room door; and the man he placed there,\nafter using all possible persuasion to have patience, kept them off by\nforce: however, he caused some biscuit cakes to be dipped in the pot,\nand softened them with the liquor of the meat, which they call brewis,\nand gave every one one, to stay their stomachs, and told them it was for\ntheir own safety that he was obliged to give them but little at a time.\nBut it was all in vain, and had I not come on board, and their own\ncommander and officers with me, and with good words, and some threats\nalso of giving them no more, I believe they would have broke into the\ncook-room by force, and torn the meat out of the furnace; for words\nindeed are of a very small force to an hungry belly: however, we\npacified them, and fed them gradually and cautiously for the first time,\nand the next time gave them more, and at last filled their bellies, and\nthe men did well enough.\nBut the misery of the poor passengers in the cabin was of another\nnature, and far beyond the rest; for as, first, the ship\u2019s company had\nso little for themselves, it was but too true, that they had at first\nkept them very low, and at last totally neglected them; so that for six\nor seven days, it might be said, they had really had no food at all, and\nfor several days before, very little.\nThe poor mother, who, as the first mate reported, was a woman of good\nsense and good breeding, had spared all she could get so affectionately\nfor her son, that at last she entirely sunk under it; and when the mate\nof our ship went in, she sat upon the floor or deck, with her back up\nagainst the sides, between two chairs, which were lashed fast, and her\nhead sunk in between her shoulders, like a corpse, though not quite\ndead. My mate said all he could to revive and encourage her, and with a\nspoon put some broth into her mouth; she opened her lips, and lifted up\none hand, but could not speak: yet she understood what he said, and made\nsigns to him, intimating, that it was too late for her; but pointed to\nher child, as if she would have said, they should take care of him.\nHowever, the mate, who was exceedingly moved with the sight, endeavoured\nto get some of the broth into her mouth; and, as he said, got two or\nthree spoonfuls down, though I question whether he could be sure of it\nor not; but it was too late, and she died the same night.\nThe youth, who was preserved at the price of his most affectionate\nmother\u2019s life, was not so far gone; yet he lay in a cabin-bed as one\nstretched out, with hardly any life left in him; he had a piece of an\nold glove in his mouth, having eaten up the rest of it; however, being\nyoung, and having more strength than his mother, the mate got something\ndown his throat, and he began sensibly to revive, though, by giving him\nsome time after but two or three spoonfuls extraordinary, he was very\nsick, and brought it up again.\nBut the next care was the poor maid; she lay all along upon the deck\nhard by her mistress, and just like one that had fallen down with an\napoplexy, and struggled for life: her limbs were distorted, one of her\nhands was clasped round the frame of one chair, and she griped it so\nhard, that we could not easily make her let it go; her other arm lay\nover her head, and her feet lay both together, set fast against the\nframe of the cabin-table; in short, she lay just like one in the last\nagonies of death; and yet she was alive too.\nThe poor creature was not only starved with hunger, and terrified with\nthe thoughts of death, but, as the men told us afterwards, was\nbroken-hearted for her mistress, whom she saw dying two or three days\nbefore, and whom she loved most tenderly.\nWe knew not what to do with this poor girl; for when our surgeon, who\nwas a man of very great knowledge and experience, and with great\napplication recovered her as to life, he had her upon his hand as to her\nsenses, for she was little less than distracted for a considerable time\nafter; as shall appear presently.\nWhoever shall read these memorandums, must be desired to consider, that\nvisits at sea are not like a journey into the country, where sometimes\npeople stay a week or a fortnight at a place. Our business was to\nrelieve this distressed ship\u2019s crew, but not lie by for them; and though\nthey were willing to steer the same course with us for some days, yet we\ncould carry no sail to keep pace with a ship that had no masts: however,\nas their captain begged of us to help him to set up a main-topmast, and\na kind of topmast to his jury-foremast, we did, as it were, lie by him\nfor three or four days, and then having given him five barrels of beef\nand pork, two hogsheads of biscuit, and a proportion of peas, flour, and\nwhat other things we could spare; and taking three casks of sugar and\nsome rum, and some pieces of eight of them for satisfaction, we left\nthem, taking on board with us, at their own earnest request, the youth\nand the maid, and all their goods.\nThe young lad was about seventeen years of age, a pretty, well-bred,\nmodest, and sensible youth; greatly dejected with the loss of his\nmother, and, as it happened had lost his father but a few months before\nat Barbados. He begged of the surgeon to speak to me, to take him out of\nthe ship; for he said, the cruel fellows had murdered his mother; and\nindeed so they had, that is to say, passively; for they might have\nspared a small sustenance to the poor helpless widow, that might have\npreserved her life, though it had been just to keep her alive. But\nhunger knows no friend, no relation, no justice, no right; and therefore\nis remorseless, and capable of no compassion.\nThe surgeon told him how far we were going, and how it would carry him\naway from all his friends, and put him perhaps in as bad circumstance,\nalmost, as we found them in; that is to say, starving in the world. He\nsaid it mattered not whither he went, if he was but delivered from the\nterrible crew that he was among: that the captain (by which he meant me,\nfor he could know nothing of my nephew) had saved his life, and he was\nsure would not hurt him; and as for the maid, he was sure, if she came\nto herself, she would be very thankful for it, let us carry them whither\nwe would. The surgeon represented the case so affectionately to me, that\nI yielded, and we took them both on board with all their goods, except\neleven hogsheads of sugar, which could not be removed, or come at; and\nas the youth had a bill of lading for them, I made his commander sign a\nwriting, obliging him to go, as soon as he came to Bristol, to one Mr.\nRogers, a merchant there, to whom the youth said he was related, and to\ndeliver a letter which I wrote to him, and all the goods he had\nbelonging to the deceased widow; which I suppose was not done; for I\ncould never learn that the ship came to Bristol; but was, as is most\nprobable, lost at sea, being in so disabled a condition, and so far from\nany land, that I am of opinion, the first storm she met with afterwards\nshe might founder in the sea; for she was leaky, and had damage in her\nhold when I met with her.\nI was now in the latitude of 19 deg. 32 min. and had hitherto had a\ntolerable voyage as to weather, though at first the winds had been\ncontrary. I shall trouble nobody with the little incidents of wind,\nweather, currents, &c. on the rest of our voyage; but, shortening my\nstory for the sake of what is to follow, shall observe, that I came to\nmy old habitation, the island, on the 10th of April, 1695. It was with\nno small difficulty that I found the place; for as I came to it, and\nwent from it before, on the south and east side of the island, as coming\nfrom the Brasils; so now coming in between the main and the island, and\nhaving no chart for the coast, nor any land-mark, I did not know it when\nI saw it, or know whether I saw it or no.\nWe beat about a great while, and went on shore on several islands in the\nmouth of the great river Oroonoque, but none for my purpose: only this I\nlearnt by my coasting the shore, that I was under one great mistake\nbefore, viz. that the continent which I thought I saw from the island I\nlived in, was really no continent, but a long island, or rather a ridge\nof islands reaching from one to the other side of the extended mouth of\nthat great river; and that the savages who came to my island, were not\nproperly those which we call Caribbees, but islanders, and other\nbarbarians of the same kind, who inhabited something nearer to our side\nthan the rest.\nIn short, I visited several of the islands to no purpose; some I found\nwere inhabited, and some were not. On one of them I found some\nSpaniards, and thought they had lived there; but speaking with them,\nfound they had a sloop lay in a small creek hard by, and that they came\nthither to make salt, and catch some pearl-muscles, if they could; but\nthey belonged to the Isle de Trinidad, which lay farther north, in the\nlatitude of 10 and 11 degrees.\nThus coasting from one island to another, sometimes with the ship,\nsometimes with the Frenchman\u2019s shallop (which we had found a convenient\nboat, and therefore kept her with their very good will,) at length I\ncame fair on the south side of my island, and I presently knew the very\ncountenance of the place; so I brought the ship safe to an anchor\nbroadside with the little creek where was my old habitation.\nAs soon as I saw the place, I called for Friday, and asked him, if he\nknew where he was? He looked about a little, and presently clapping his\nhands, cried, \u201cO yes, O there, O yes, O there!\u201d pointing to our old\nhabitation, and fell a-dancing and capering like a mad fellow; and I had\nmuch ado to keep him from jumping into the sea, to swim ashore to\nthe place.\n\u201cWell, Friday,\u201d said I, \u201cdo you think we shall find any body here, or\nno? and what do you think, shall we see your father?\u201d The fellow stood\nmute as a stock a good while; but when I named his father, the poor\naffectionate creature looked dejected; and I could see the tears run\ndown his face very plentifully. \u201cWhat is the matter, Friday?\u201d said I;\n\u201care you troubled because you may see your father\u201d\u2014\u201cNo, no,\u201d says he,\nshaking his head, \u201cno see him more, no ever more see again.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy so,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cFriday? how do you know that?\u201d\u2014\u201cO no, O no,\u201d says Friday, \u201che\nlong ago die; long ago, he much old man.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell, well,\u201d said I,\n\u201cFriday, you don\u2019t know; but shall we see any one else then?\u201d The\nfellow, it seems, had better eyes than I, and he points just to the hill\nabove my old house; and though we lay half a league off, he cries out,\n\u201cMe see! me see! yes, yes, me see much man there, and there, and there.\u201d\nI looked, but I could see nobody, no, not with a perspective-glass;\nwhich was, I suppose, because I could not hit the place; for the fellow\nwas right, as I found upon inquiry the next day, and there were five or\nsix men all together stood to look at the ship, not knowing what to\nthink of us.\nAs soon as Friday had told me he saw people, I caused the English\nancient to be spread, and fired three guns, to give them notice we were\nfriends; and about half a quarter of an hour after, we perceived a smoke\nrise from the side of the creek; so I immediately ordered a boat out,\ntaking Friday with me; and hanging out a white flag, or a flag of\ntruce, I went directly on shore, taking with me the young friar I\nmentioned, to whom I had told the whole story of living there, and the\nmanner of it, and every particular both of myself and those that I left\nthere, and who was on that account extremely desirous to go with me, We\nhad besides about sixteen men very well armed, if we had found any new\nguest there which we did not know of; but we had no need of weapons.\nAs we went on shore upon the tide of flood near high water, we rowed\ndirectly into the creek; and the first man I fixed my eye upon was the\nSpaniard whose life I had saved, and whom I knew by his face perfectly\nwell; as to his habit, I shall describe it afterwards. I ordered nobody\nto go on shore at first but myself; but there was no keeping Friday in\nthe boat; for the affectionate creature had spied his father at a\ndistance, a good way off of the Spaniards, where indeed I saw nothing of\nhim; and if they had not let him go on shore he would have jumped into\nthe sea. He was no sooner on shore, but he flew away to his father like\nan arrow out of a bow. It would have made any man shed tears in spite of\nthe firmest resolution to have seen the first transports of this poor\nfellow\u2019s joy, when he came to his father; how he embraced him, kissed\nhim, stroked his face, took him in his arms, set him down upon a tree,\nand lay down by him; then stood and looked at him as any one would look\nat a strange picture, for a quarter of an hour together; then lay down\nupon the ground, and stroked his legs, and kissed them, and then got up\nagain, and stared at him; one would have thought the fellow bewitched:\nbut it would have made a dog laugh to see how the next day his passion\nrun out another way: in the morning he walked along the shore to and\nagain, with his father, several hours, always leading him by the hand as\nif he had been a lady and every now and then would come to fetch\nsomething or other for him from the boat, either a lump of sugar, or a\ndram, a biscuit, or something or other that was good. In the afternoon\nhis frolics ran another way; for then he would set the old man down upon\nthe ground, and dance about him, and made a thousand antic postures and\ngestures; and all the while he did this he would be talking to him, and\ntelling him one story or another of his travels, and of what had\nhappened to him abroad, to divert him. In short, if the same filial\naffection was to be found in Christians to their parents in our parts of\nthe world, one would be tempted to say there hardly would have been any\nneed of the fifth commandment.\nBut this is a digression; I return to my landing. It would be endless to\ntake notice of all the ceremonies and civilities that the Spaniards\nreceived me with. The first Spaniard whom, as I said, I knew very well,\nwas he whose life I saved; he came towards the boat attended by one\nmore, carrying a flag of truce also; and he did not only not know me at\nfirst, but he had no thoughts, no notion, of its being me that was come\ntil I spoke to him. \u201cSeignior,\u201d said I, in Portuguese, \u201cdo you not know\nme?\u201d At which he spoke not a word; but giving his musket to the man\nthat was with him, threw his arms abroad, and saying something in\nSpanish that I did not perfectly hear, came forward, and embraced me,\ntelling me, he was inexcusable not to know that face again that he had\nonce seen, as of an angel from Heaven sent to save his life: he said\nabundance of very handsome things, as a well-bred Spaniard always knows\nhow: and then beckoning to the person that attended him, bade him go and\ncall out his comrades. He then asked me if I would walk to my old\nhabitation, where he would give me possession of my own house again, and\nwhere I should see there, had been but mean improvements; so I walked\nalong with him; but alas! I could no more find the place again than if I\nhad never been there; for they had planted so many trees, and placed\nthem in such a posture, so thick and close to one another, in ten years\ntime they were grown so big, that, in short, the place was\ninaccessible, except by such windings and blind ways as they themselves\nonly who made them could find.\nI asked them, what put them upon all these fortifications? He told me, I\nwould say there was need enough of it, when they had given an account\nhow they had passed their time since their arriving in the island,\nespecially after they had the misfortune to find that I was gone: he\ntold me he could not but have some satisfaction in my good fortune, when\nhe heard that I was gone in a good ship, and to my satisfaction; and\nthat he had oftentimes a strong persuasion that one time or other he\nshould see me again: but nothing that ever befel him in his life, he\nsaid, was so surprising and afflicting to him at first, as the\ndisappointment he was under when he came back to the island, and found I\nwas not there.\nAs to the three barbarians (so he called them) that were left behind,\nand of whom he said he had a long story to tell me; the Spaniards all\nthought themselves much better among the savages, only that their number\nwas so small. \u201cAnd,\u201d says he, \u201chad they been strong enough, we had been\nall long ago in purgatory,\u201d and with that he crossed himself upon the\nbreast. But, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cI hope you will not be displeased, when I\nshall tell you how, forced by necessity, we were obliged, for our own\npreservation, to disarm them, and making them our subjects, who would\nnot be content with being moderately our masters, but would be our\nmurderers.\u201d I answered, I was heartily afraid of it when I left them\nthere; and nothing troubled me at my parting from the island, but that\nthey were not come back, that I might have put them in possession of\nevery thing first, and left the other in a state of subjection, as they\ndeserved; but if they had reduced them to it, I was very glad, and\nshould be very far from finding any fault with it; for I knew they were\na parcel of refractory, ungovernable villains, and were fit for any\nmanner of mischief.\nWhile I was saying this came the man whom he had sent back, and with\nhim eleven men more: in the dress they were in, it was impossible to\nguess what nation they were of; but he made all clear both to them and\nto me. First he turned to me, and pointing to them, said, \u201cThese, Sir,\nare some of the gentlemen who owe their lives to you;\u201d and then turning\nto them, and pointing to me, he let them know who I was; upon which they\nall came up one by one, not as if they had been sailors, and ordinary\nfellows, and I the like, but really as if they had been ambassadors or\nnoblemen, and I a monarch or a great conqueror: their behaviour was to\nthe last degree obliging and courteous, and yet mixed with a manly\nmajestic gravity, which very well became them; and, in short, they had\nso much more manners than I, that I scarce knew how to receive their\ncivilities, much less how to return them in kind.\nThe history of their coming to, and conduct in the island after my going\naway, is so remarkable, and has so many incidents, which the former part\nof my relation will help to understand, and which will, in most of the\nparticulars, refer to that account I have already given, that I cannot\nbut commit them with great delight to the reading of those that\ncome after me.\nI shall no longer trouble the story with a relation in the first person,\nwhich will put me to the expense of ten thousand Said I\u2019s, and Said\nhe\u2019s, and He told me\u2019s, and I told him\u2019s, and the like; but I shall\ncollect the facts historically as near as I can gather them out of my\nmemory from what they related to me, and from what I met with in my\nconversing with them, and with the place.\nIn order to do this succinctly, and as intelligibly as I can, I must go\nback to the circumstance in which I left the island, and which the\npersons were in of whom I am to speak. At first it is necessary to\nrepeat, that I had sent away Friday\u2019s father and the Spaniard, the two\nwhose lives I had rescued from the savages; I say, I had sent them away\nin a large canoe to the main, as I then thought it, to fetch over the\nSpaniard\u2019s companions whom he had left behind him, in order to save them\nfrom the like calamity that he had been in, and in order to succour them\nfor the present, and that, if possible, we might together find some way\nfor our deliverance afterward.\nWhen I sent them away, I had no visible appearance of, or the least room\nto hope for, my own deliverance, any more than I had twenty years\nbefore; much less had I any foreknowledge of what after happened, I mean\nof an English ship coming on shore there to fetch them off; and it could\nnot but be a very great surprise to them when they came back, not only\nto find that I was gone, but to find three strangers left on the spot,\npossessed of all that I had left behind me, which would otherwise have\nbeen their own.\nThe first thing, however, which I inquired into, that I might begin\nwhere I left off, was of their own part; and I desired he would give me\na particular account of his voyage back to his countrymen with the boat,\nwhen I sent him to fetch them over. He told me there was little variety\nin that part; for nothing remarkable happened to them on the way, they\nhaving very calm weather and a smooth sea; for his countrymen it could\nnot be doubted, he said, but that they were overjoyed to see him (it\nseems he was the principal man among them, the captain of the vessel\nthey had been shipwrecked in having been dead some time:) they were, he\nsaid, the more surprised to see him, because they knew that he was\nfallen into the hands of savages, who, they were satisfied, would devour\nhim, as they did all the rest of their prisoners; that when he told them\nthe story of the deliverance, and in what manner he was furnished for\ncarrying them away, it was like a dream to them; and their astonishment,\nthey said, was something like that of Joseph\u2019s brethren, when he told\nthem who he was, and told them the story of his exaltation in Pharaoh\u2019s\ncourt; but when he shewed them the arms, the powder, the ball, and the\nprovisions that he brought them for their journey or voyage, they were\nrestored to themselves, took a just share of the joy of their\ndeliverance, and immediately prepared to come away with him.\nTheir first business was to get canoes; and in this they were obliged\nnot to stick so much upon the honest part of it, but to trespass upon\ntheir friendly savages, and to borrow two large canoes or periaguas, on\npretence of going out a-fishing, or for pleasure.\nIn these they came away the next morning; it seems they wanted no time\nto get themselves ready, for they had no baggage, neither clothes, or\nprovisions, or any thing in the world, but what they had on them, and a\nfew roots to eat, of which they used to make their bread.\nThey were in all three weeks absent, and in that time, unluckily for\nthem, I had the occasion offered for my escape, as I mentioned in my\nother part, and to get off from the island; leaving three of the most\nimpudent, hardened, ungoverned, disagreeable villains behind me that any\nman could desire to meet with, to the poor Spaniards\u2019 great grief and\ndisappointment you may be sure.\nThe only just thing the rogues did, was, that when the Spaniards came on\nshore, they gave my letter to them, and gave them provisions and other\nrelief, as I had ordered them to do; also they gave them the long paper\nof directions, which I had left with them, containing the particular\nmethods which I took for managing every part of my life there; the way\nhow I baked my bread, bred up my tame goats, and planted my corn; how I\ncured my grapes, made my pots, and, in a word, every thing I did; all\nthis being written down, they gave to the Spaniards, two of whom\nunderstood English well enough; nor did they refuse to accommodate the\nSpaniards with any thing else, for they agreed very well for some time;\nthey gave them an equal admission into the house, or cave, and they\nbegan to live very sociably; and the head Spaniard, who had seen pretty\nmuch of my method, and Friday\u2019s father together, managed all their\naffairs; for as for the Englishmen, they did nothing but ramble about\nthe island, shoot parrots, and catch tortoises, and when they came home\nat night, the Spaniards provided their suppers for them.\nThe Spaniards would have been satisfied with this would the other but\nhave left them alone; which however, they could not find in their hearts\nto do long; but, like the dog in the manger, they would not eat\nthemselves, and would not let others eat neither: the differences,\nnevertheless, were at first but trivial and such as are not worth\nrelating: but at last it broke out into open war, and it began with all\nthe rudeness and insolence that can be imagined, without reason, without\nprovocation, contrary to nature, and indeed to common sense; and though,\nit is true, the first relation of it came from the Spaniards themselves,\nwhom I may call the accusers, yet when I came to examine the fellows,\nthey could not deny a word of it.\nBut before I come to the particulars of this part, I must supply a\ndefect in my former relation; and this was, that I forgot to set down\namong the rest, that just as we were weighing the anchor to set sail,\nthere happened a little quarrel on board our ship, which I was afraid\nonce would turn to a second mutiny; nor was it appeased till the\ncaptain, rousing up his courage, and taking us all to his assistance,\nparted them by force, and making two of the most refractory fellows\nprisoners, he laid them in irons; and as they had been active in the\nformer disorders, and let fall some ugly dangerous words the second\ntime, he threatened to carry them in irons to England, and have them\nhanged there for mutiny, and running away with the ship.\nThis, it seems, though the captain did not intend to do it, frighted\nsome other men in the ship; and some of them had put it in the heads of\nthe rest, that the captain only gave them good words for the present\ntill they should come to some English port, and that then they should\nbe all put into a gaol, and tried for their lives.\nThe mate got intelligence of this, and acquainted us with it; upon which\nit was desired that I, who still passed for a great man among them,\nshould go down with the mate and satisfy the men, and tell them, that\nthey might be assured, if they behaved well the rest of the voyage, all\nthey had done for the time past should be pardoned. So I went, and after\npassing my honour\u2019s word to them they appeared easy, and the more so,\nwhen I caused the two men who were in irons to be released and forgiven.\nBut this mutiny had brought us to an anchor for that night, the wind\nalso falling calm. Next morning we found that our two men who had been\nlaid in irons, had stole each of them a musket and some other weapons;\nwhat powder or shot they had we knew not; and had taken the ship\u2019s\npinnace, which was not yet haled up, and run away with her to their\ncompanions in roguery on shore.\nAs soon as we found this, I ordered the long-boat on shore, with twelve\nmen and the mate, and away they went to seek the rogues; but they could\nneither find them, nor any of the rest; for they all fled into the woods\nwhen they saw the boat coming on shore. The mate was once resolved, in\njustice to their roguery, to have destroyed their plantations, burnt all\ntheir household stuff and furniture, and left them to shift without it;\nbut having no order, he let all alone, left every thing as they found\nit, and bringing the pinnace away, came on board without them.\nThese two men made their number five: but the other three villains were\nso much wickeder than these, that after they had been two or three days\ntogether, they turned their two new-comers out of doors to shift for\nthemselves, and would have nothing to do with them; nor could they, for\na good while, be persuaded to give them any food: as for the Spaniards,\nthey were not yet come.\nWhen the Spaniards came first on shore, the business began to go\nforward; the Spaniards would have persuaded the three English brutes to\nhave taken in their two countrymen again, that, as they said, they might\nbe all one family; but they would not hear of it: so the two poor\nfellows lived by themselves, and finding nothing but industry and\napplication would make them live comfortable, they pitched their tents\non the north shore of the island, but a little more to the west, to be\nout of the danger of the savages, who always landed on the east parts of\nthe island.\nHere they built two huts, one to lodge in, and the other to lay up their\nmagazines and stores in; and the Spaniards having given them some corn\nfor seed, and especially some of the peas which I had left them, they\ndug and planted, and enclosed, after the pattern I had set for them all,\nand began to live pretty well; their first crop of corn was on the\nground, and though it was but a little bit of land which they had dug up\nat first, having had but a little time, yet it was enough to relieve\nthem, and find them with bread or other eatables; and one of the\nfellows, being the cook\u2019s mate of the ship, was very ready at making\nsoup, puddings, and such other preparations, as the rice and the milk,\nand such little flesh as they got, furnished him to do.\nThey were going on in a little thriving posture, when the three\nunnatural rogues, their own countrymen too, in mere humour, and to\ninsult them, came and bullied them, and told them the island was theirs;\nthat the governor, meaning me, had given them possession of it, and\nnobody else had any right to it; and, damn them, they should build no\nhouses upon their ground, unless they would pay them rent for them.\nThe two men thought they had jested at first, and asked them to come and\nsit down, and see what fine houses they were that they had built, and\ntell them what rent they demanded: and one of them merrily told them, if\nthey were ground-landlords, he hoped if they built tenements upon the\nland and made improvements, they would, according to the custom of all\nlandlords, grant them a long lease; and bid them go fetch a scrivener to\ndraw the writings. One of the three, damning and raging, told them they\nshould see they were not in jest; and going to a little place at a\ndistance, where the honest men had made a fire to dress their victuals,\nhe takes a firebrand and claps it to the outside of their hut, and very\nfairly set it on fire; and it would have been all burnt down in a few\nminutes, if one of the two had not run to the fellow, thrust him away,\nand trod the fire out with his feet, and that not without some\ndifficulty too.\nThe fellow was in such a rage at the honest man\u2019s thrusting him away,\nthat he turned upon him with a pole he had in his hand; and had not the\nman avoided the blow very nimbly, and run into the hut, he had ended his\ndays at once. His comrade, seeing the danger they were both in, ran in\nafter him, and immediately they came both out with their muskets; and\nthe man that was first struck at with the pole knocked the fellow down\nwho began the quarrel with the stock of his musket, and that before the\nother two could come to help him; and then seeing the rest come at them,\nthey stood together, and presenting the other ends of their pieces to\nthem, bade them stand off.\nThe others had fire-arms with them too; but one of the two honest men,\nbolder than his comrade, and made desperate by his danger, told them if\nthey offered to move hand or foot they were all dead men, and boldly\ncommanded them to lay down their arms. They did not indeed lay down\ntheir arms; but seeing him resolute, it brought them to a parley, and\nthey consented to take their wounded man with them, and be gone; and,\nindeed, it seems the fellow was wounded sufficiently with the blow:\nhowever, they were much in the wrong, since they had the advantage, that\nthey did not disarm them effectually, as they might have done, and have\ngone immediately to the Spaniards, and given them an account how the\nrogues treated them; for the three villains studied nothing but\nrevenge, and every day gave them some intimation that they did so.\nBut not to crowd this part with an account of the lesser part of their\nrogueries, such as treading down their corn, shooting three young kids\nand a she-goat, which the poor men had got to breed up tame for their\nstore; and in a word, plaguing them night and day in this manner, it\nforced the two men to such a desperation, that they resolved to fight\nthem all three the first time they had a fair opportunity. In order to\nthis they resolved to go to the castle, as they called it, that was my\nold dwelling, where the three rogues and the Spaniards all lived\ntogether at that time, intending to have a fair battle, and the\nSpaniards should stand by to see fair play. So they got up in the\nmorning before day, and came to the place, and called the Englishmen by\ntheir names, telling a Spaniard that answered, that they wanted to speak\nwith them.\nIt happened that the day before two of the Spaniards, having been in the\nwoods, had seen one of the two Englishmen, whom, for distinction, I call\nthe honest men; and he had made a sad complaint to the Spaniards, of the\nbarbarous usage they had met with from their three countrymen, and how\nthey had ruined their plantation, and destroyed their corn, that they\nhad laboured so hard to bring forward, and killed the milch-goat, and\ntheir three kids, which was all they had provided for their sustenance;\nand that if he and his friends, meaning the Spaniards, did not assist\nthem again, they should be starved. When the Spaniards came home at\nnight, and they were all at supper, he took the freedom to reprove the\nthree Englishmen, though in gentle and mannerly terms, and asked them,\nhow they could be so cruel, they being harmless inoffensive fellows, and\nthat they were putting themselves in a way to subsist by their labour,\nand that it had cost them a great deal of pains to bring things to such\nperfection as they had?\nOne of the Englishmen returned very briskly, \u201cWhat had they to do there?\nThat they came on shore without leave, and that they should not plant\nor build upon the island; it was none of their ground.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy,\u201d says the\nSpaniard, very calmly, \u201cSeignior Inglese, they must not starve.\u201d The\nEnglishman replied, like a true rough-hewn tarpaulin, \u201cthey might starve\nand be d\u2014ed, they should not plant nor build in that place.\u201d\u2014\u201cBut what\nmust they do then, Seignior?\u201d says the Spaniard. Another of the brutes\nreturned, \u201cDo! d\u2014n them, they should be servants, and work for\nthem.\u201d\u2014\u201cBut how can you expect that of them? They are not bought with\nyour money; you have no right to make them servants.\u201d The Englishman\nanswered, \u201cThe island was theirs, the governor had given it to them, and\nno man had any thing to do there but themselves;\u201d and with that swore by\nhis Maker, that he would go and burn all their new huts; they should\nbuild none upon their land.\n\u201cWhy, Seignior,\u201d says the Spaniard, \u201cby the same rule, we must be your\nservants too.\u201d\u2014\u201cAy,\u201d says the bold dog, \u201cand so you shall too, before\nwe have done with you;\u201d mixing two or three G\u2014d d\u2014mme\u2019s in the proper\nintervals of his speech. The Spaniard only smiled at that, and made him\nno answer. However, this little discourse had heated them; and starting\nup, one says to the other, I think it was he they called Will Atkins,\n\u201cCome, Jack, let us go and have the other brush with them; we will\ndemolish their castle, I will warrant you; they shall plant no colony in\nour dominions.\u201d\nUpon this they were all trooping away, with every man a gun, a pistol,\nand a sword, and muttered some insolent things among themselves, of what\nthey would do to the Spaniards too, when opportunity offered; but the\nSpaniards, it seems, did not so perfectly understand them as to know all\nthe particulars; only that, in general, they threatened them hard for\ntaking the two Englishmen\u2019s part.\nWhither they went, or how they bestowed their time that evening, the\nSpaniards said they did not know; but it seems they wandered about the\ncountry part of the night; and then lying down in the place which I\nused to call my bower, they were weary, and overslept themselves. The\ncase was this: they had resolved to stay till midnight, and so to take\nthe poor men when they were asleep; and they acknowledged it afterwards,\nintending to set fire to their huts while they were in them, and either\nburn them in them, or murder them as they came out: and, as malice\nseldom sleeps very sound, it was very strange they should not have been\nkept waking.\nHowever, as the two men had also a design upon them, as I have said,\nthough a much fairer one than that of burning and murdering, it\nhappened, and very luckily for them all, that they were up, and gone\nabroad, before the bloody-minded rogues came to their huts.\nWhen they came thither, and found the men gone, Atkins, who it seems was\nthe forwardest man, called out to his comrades, \u201cHa! Jack, here\u2019s the\nnest; but d\u2014n them, the birds are flown.\u201d They mused awhile to think\nwhat should be the occasion of their being gone abroad so soon, and\nsuggested presently, that the Spaniards had given them notice of it; and\nwith that they shook hands, and swore to one another, that they would be\nrevenged of the Spaniards. As soon as they had made this bloody bargain,\nthey fell to work with the poor men\u2019s habitation; they did not set fire\nindeed to any thing, but they pulled down both their houses, and pulled\nthem so limb from limb, that they left not the least stick standing, or\nscarce any sign on the ground where they stood; they tore all their\nlittle collected household-stuff in pieces, and threw every thing about\nin such a manner, that the poor men found, afterwards, some of their\nthings a mile off from their habitation.\nWhen they had done this, they pulled up all the young trees which the\npoor men had planted; pulled up the enclosure they had made to secure\ntheir cattle and their corn; and, in a word, sacked and plundered every\nthing, as completely as a herd of Tartars would have done.\nThe two men were at this juncture gone to find them out, and had\nresolved to fight them wherever they had been, though they were but two\nto three; so that, had they met, there certainly would have been\nbloodshed among them; for they were all very stout, resolute fellows, to\ngive them their due.\nBut Providence took more care to keep them asunder, than they themselves\ncould do to meet; for, as they had dogged one another, when the three\nwere gone thither, the two were here; and afterwards, when the two went\nback to find them, the three were come to the old habitation again: we\nshall see their differing conduct presently. When the three came back,\nlike furious creatures, flushed with the rage which the work they had\nbeen about put them into, they came up to the Spaniards, and told them\nwhat they had done, by way of scoff and bravado; and one of them\nstepping up to one of the Spaniards, as if they had been a couple of\nboys at play, takes hold of his hat, as it was upon his head, and giving\nit a twirl about, jeering in his face, says he to him, \u201cAnd you,\nSeignior Jack Spaniard, shall have the same sauce, if you do not mend\nyour manners.\u201d The Spaniard, who, though quite a civil man, was as brave\nas a man could desire to be, and withal a strong well-made man, looked\nsteadily at him for a good while; and then, having no weapon in his\nhand, stepped gravely up to him, and with one blow of his fist knocked\nhim down, as an ox is felled with a pole-axe; at which one of the\nrogues, insolent as the first, fixed his pistol at the Spaniard\nimmediately; he missed his body indeed, for the bullets went through his\nhair, but one of them touched the tip of his ear, and he bled pretty\nmuch. The blood made the Spaniard believe he was more hurt than he\nreally was, and that put him into some heat, for before he acted all in\na perfect calm; but now resolving to go through with his work, he\nstooped and took the fellow\u2019s musket whom he had knocked down, and was\njust going to shoot the man who had fired at him; when the rest of the\nSpaniards, being in the cave, came out, and calling to him not to\nshoot, they stepped in, secured the other two, and took their arms\nfrom them.\nWhen they were thus disarmed, and found they had made all the Spaniards\ntheir enemies, as well as their own countrymen, they began to cool; and\ngiving the Spaniards better words, would have had their arms again; but\nthe Spaniards, considering the feud that was between them and the other\ntwo Englishmen, and that it would be the best method they could take to\nkeep them from one another, told them they would do them no harm; and if\nthey would live peaceably they would be very willing to assist and\nassociate with them, as they did before; but that they could not think\nof giving them their arms again, while they appeared so resolved to do\nmischief with them to their own countrymen, and had even threatened them\nall to make them their servants.\nThe rogues were now more capable to hear reason than to act reason; but\nbeing refused their arms, they went raving away, and raging like madmen,\nthreatening what they would do, though they had no fire-arms: but the\nSpaniards, despising their threatening, told them they should take care\nhow they offered any injury to their plantation or cattle; for if they\ndid, they would shoot them, as they would do ravenous beasts, wherever\nthey found them; and if they fell into their hands alive, they would\ncertainly be hanged. However, this was far from cooling them; but away\nthey went, swearing and raging like furies of hell. As soon as they were\ngone, came back the two men in passion and rage enough also, though of\nanother kind; for, having been at their plantation, and finding it all\ndemolished and destroyed, as above, it will easily be supposed they had\nprovocation enough; they could scarce have room to tell their tale, the\nSpaniards were so eager to tell them theirs; and it was strange enough\nto find, that three men should thus bully nineteen, and receive no\npunishment at all.\nThe Spaniards indeed despised them, and especially having thus disarmed\nthem, made light of their threatenings; but the two Englishmen resolved\nto have their remedy against them, what pains soever it cost to\nfind them out.\nBut the Spaniards interposed here too, and told them, that they were\nalready disarmed: they could not consent that they (the two) should\npursue them with fire-arms, and perhaps kill them: \u201cBut,\u201d said the grave\nSpaniard, who was their governor, \u201cwe will endeavour to make them do you\njustice, if you will leave it to us; for, as there is no doubt but they\nwill come to us again when their passion is over, being not able to\nsubsist without our assistance, we promise you to make no peace with\nthem, without having full satisfaction for you; and upon this condition\nwe hope you will promise to use no violence with them, other than in\nyour defence.\u201d\nThe two Englishmen; yielded to this very awkwardly and with great\nreluctance; but the Spaniards protested, they did it only to keep them\nfrom bloodshed, and to make all easy at last; \u201cFor,\u201d said they, \u201cwe are\nnot so many of us; here is room enough for us all, and it is great pity\nwe should not be all good friends.\u201d At length they did consent, and\nwaited for the issue of the thing, living for some days with the\nSpaniards; for their own habitation was destroyed.\nIn about five days time the three vagrants, tired with wandering, and\nalmost starved with hunger, having chiefly lived on turtles\u2019 eggs all\nthat while, came back to the grove: and finding my Spaniard, who, as I\nhave said, was the governor, and two more with him, walking by the side\nof the creek; they came up in a very submissive humble manner, and\nbegged to be received again into the family. The Spaniards used them\ncivilly, but told them, they had acted so unnaturally by their\ncountrymen, and so very grossly by them, (the Spaniards) that they could\nnot come to any conclusion without consulting the two Englishmen, and\nthe rest; but however they would go to them and discourse about it, and\nthey should know in half-an-hour. It may be guessed that they were very\nhard put to it; for, as they were to wait this half-hour for an answer,\nthey begged they would send them out some bread in the meantime, which\nthey did, sending at the same time a large piece of goat\u2019s flesh and a\nboiled parrot, which they ate very eagerly.\nAfter half-an-hour\u2019s consultation they were called in, and a long debate\nensued, their two countrymen charging them with the ruin of all their\nlabour, and a design to murder them; all which they owned before, and\ntherefore could not deny now. Upon the whole, the Spaniards acted the\nmoderators between them; and as they had obliged the two Englishmen not\nto hurt the three while they were naked and unarmed, so they now obliged\nthe three to go and rebuild their fellows\u2019 two huts, one to be of the\nsame and the other of larger dimensions than they were before; to fence\ntheir ground again, plant trees in the room of those pulled up, dig up\nthe land again for planting corn, and, in a word, to restore everything\nto the same state as they found it, that is, as near as they could.\nWell, they submitted to all this; and as they had plenty of provisions\ngiven them all the while, they grew very orderly, and the whole society\nbegan to live pleasantly and agreeably together again; only that these\nthree fellows could never be persuaded to work\u2014I mean for\nthemselves\u2014except now and then a little, just as they pleased. However,\nthe Spaniards told them plainly that if they would but live sociably and\nfriendly together, and study the good of the whole plantation, they\nwould be content to work for them, and let them walk about and be as\nidle as they pleased; and thus, having lived pretty well together for a\nmonth or two, the Spaniards let them have arms again, and gave them\nliberty to go abroad with them as before.\nIt was not above a week after they had these arms, and went abroad,\nbefore the ungrateful creatures began to be as insolent and troublesome\nas ever. However, an accident happened presently upon this, which\nendangered the safety of them all, and they were obliged to lay by all\nprivate resentments, and look to the preservation of their lives.\nIt happened one night that the governor, the Spaniard whose life I had\nsaved, who was now the governor of the rest, found himself very uneasy\nin the night, and could by no means get any sleep: he was perfectly well\nin body, only found his thoughts tumultuous; his mind ran upon men\nfighting and killing one another; but he was broad awake, and could not\nby any means get any sleep; in short, he lay a great while, but growing\nmore and more uneasy, he resolved to rise. As they lay, being so many of\nthem, on goat-skins laid thick upon such couches and pads as they made\nfor themselves, so they had little to do, when they were willing to\nrise, but to get upon their feet, and perhaps put on a coat, such as it\nwas, and their pumps, and they were ready for going any way that their\nthoughts guided them. Being thus got up, he looked out; but being dark,\nhe could see little or nothing, and besides, the trees which I had\nplanted, and which were now grown tall, intercepted his sight, so that\nhe could only look up, and see that it was a starlight night, and\nhearing no noise, he returned and lay down again; but to no purpose; he\ncould not compose himself to anything like rest; but his thoughts were\nto the last degree uneasy, and he knew not for what.\nHaving made some noise with rising and walking about, going out and\ncoming in, another of them waked, and, calling, asked who it was that\nwas up? The governor told him how it had been with him. \u201cSay you so?\u201d\nsays the other Spaniard; \u201csuch things are not to be slighted, I assure\nyou; there is certainly some mischief working,\u201d says he, \u201cnear us;\u201d and\npresently he asked him, \u201cWhere are the Englishmen?\u201d \u201cThey are all in\ntheir huts,\u201d says he, \u201csafe enough.\u201d It seems, the Spaniards had kept\npossession of the main apartment, and had made a place, where the three\nEnglishmen, since their last mutiny, always quartered by themselves, and\ncould not come at the rest. \u201cWell,\u201d says the Spaniard, \u201cthere is\nsomething in it, I am persuaded from my own experience; I am satisfied\nour spirits embodied have converse with, and receive intelligence from,\nthe spirits unembodied, and inhabiting the invisible world; and this\nfriendly notice is given for our advantage, if we know how to make use\nof it. Come,\u201d says he, \u201clet us go out and look abroad; and if we find\nnothing at all in it to justify our trouble, I\u2019ll tell you a story of\nthe purpose, that shall convince you of the justice of my proposing it.\u201d\nIn a word, they went out to go to the top of the hill, where I used to\ngo; but they, being strong, and in good company, nor alone, as I was,\nused none of my cautions to go up by the ladder, and then pulling it up\nafter them, to go up a second stage to the top but were going round\nthrough the grove unconcerned and unwary, when they were surprised with\nseeing a light as of fire, a very little way off from them, and hearing\nthe voices of men, not of one or two, but of a great number.\nIn all the discoveries I had made of the savage landing on the island,\nit was my constant care to prevent them making the least discovery of\nthere being any inhabitant upon the place; and when by any necessity\nthey came to know it, they felt it so effectively, that they that got\naway, were scarce able to give any account of it, for we disappeared as\nsoon as possible, nor did ever any that had seen me, escape to tell any\none else, except it were the three savages in our last encounter, who\njumped into the boat, of whom I mentioned that I was afraid they should\ngo home, and bring more help.\nWhether it was the consequence of the escape of those men, that so great\na number came now together; or whether they came ignorantly, and by\naccident, on their usual bloody errand, the Spaniards could not, it\nseems, understand: but whatever it was, it had been their business,\neither to have: concealed themselves, and not have seen them at all;\nmuch less to have let the savages have seen, that there were any\ninhabitants in the place; but to have fallen upon them so effectually,\nas that not a man of them should have escaped, which could only have\nbeen by getting in between them and their boats: but this presence of\nmind was wanting to them; which was the ruin of their tranquillity for a\ngreat while.\nWe need not doubt but that the governor, and the man with him, surprised\nwith this sight, ran back immediately, and raised their fellows, giving\nthem an account of the imminent danger they were all in; and they again\nas readily took the alarm, but it was impossible to persuade them to\nstay close within where they were, but that they must all run out to see\nhow things stood.\nWhile it was dark indeed, they were well enough, and they had\nopportunity enough, for some hours, to view them by the light of three\nfires they had made at some distance from one another; what they were\ndoing they knew not, and what to do themselves they knew not; for,\nfirst, the enemy were too many; and, secondly, they did not keep\ntogether, but were divided into several parties, and were on shore in\nseveral places.\nThe Spaniards were in no small consternation at this sight; and as they\nfound that the fellows ran straggling all over the shore, they made no\ndoubt, but, first or last, some of them would chop in upon their\nhabitation, or upon some other place, where they would see the tokens of\ninhabitants; and they were in great perplexity also for fear of their\nflock of goats, which would have been little less than starving them, if\nthey should have been destroyed; so the first thing they resolved upon,\nwas to dispatch three men away before it was light, viz. two Spaniards\nand one Englishman, to drive all the goats away to the great valley\nwhere the cave was, and, if need were, to drive them into the very\ncave itself.\nCould they have seen the savages all together in one body, and at a\ndistance from their canoes, they resolved, if there had been an hundred\nof them, to have attacked them; but that could not be obtained, for\nthere were some of them two miles off from the other, and, as it\nappeared afterwards, were of two different nations.\nAfter having mused a great while on the course they should take, and\nbeaten their brains in considering their present circumstances, they\nresolved, at last while it was dark, to send the old savage (Friday\u2019s\nfather) out as a spy, to learn if possible something concerning them, as\nwhat they came for, and what they intended to do, and the like. The old\nman readily undertook it, and stripping himself quite naked, as most of\nthe savages were, away he went. After he had been gone an hour or two,\nhe brings word that he had been among them undiscovered, that he found\nthey were two parties, and of two several nations who had war with one\nanother, and had had a great battle in their own country, and that both\nsides having had several prisoners taken in the fight, they were by mere\nchance landed in the same island for the devouring their prisoners, and\nmaking merry; but this coming so by chance to the same place had spoiled\nall their mirth; that they were in a great rage at one another, and were\nso near, that he believed they would fight again as soon as daylight\nbegan to appear; he did not perceive that they had any notion of\nanybody\u2019s being on the island but themselves. He had hardly made an end\nof telling the story, when they could perceive, by the unusual noise\nthey made, that the two little armies were engaged in a bloody fight.\nFriday\u2019s father used all the arguments he could to persuade our people\nto lie close, and not be seen; he told them their safety consisted in\nit, and that they had nothing to do but to lie still, and the savages\nwould kill one another to their hands, and the rest would go away; and\nit was so to a tittle. But it was impossible to prevail, especially upon\nthe Englishmen, their curiosity was so importunate upon their\nprudentials, that they must run out and see the battle; however, they\nused some caution, viz. they did not go openly just by their own\ndwelling, but went farther into the woods, and placed themselves to\nadvantage, where they might securely see them manage the fight, and, as\nthey thought, not to be seen by them; but it seems the savages did see\nthem, as we shall find hereafter.\nThe battle was very fierce, and if I might believe the Englishmen, one\nof them said he could perceive that some of them were men of great\nbravery, of invincible spirits, and of great policy in guiding the\nfight. The battle, they said, held two hours before they could guess\nwhich party would be beaten; but then that party which was nearest our\npeople\u2019s habitation began to appear weakest, and, after some time more,\nsome of them began to fly; and this put our men again into a great\nconsternation, lest any of those that fled should run into the grove\nbefore their dwelling for shelter, and thereby involuntarily discover\nthe place, and that by consequence the pursuers should do the like in\nsearch for them. Upon this they resolved, that they would stand armed\nwithin the wall, and whoever came into the grove they should sally out\nover the wall, and kill them, so that if possible not one should return\nto give an account of it; they ordered also, that it should be done with\ntheir swords, or by knocking them down with the stock of the musket,\nnot by shooting them, for fear of raising an alarm by the noise.\nAs they expected it fell out: three of the routed army fled for life,\nand crossing the creek ran directly into the place, not in the least\nknowing whither they went, but running as into a thick wood for shelter.\nThe scout they kept to look abroad gave notice of this within, with this\naddition to our men\u2019s great satisfaction, viz. that the conquerors had\nnot pursued them, or seen which way they were gone. Upon this the\nSpaniard governor, a man of humanity, would not suffer them to kill the\nthree fugitives; but sending three men out by the top of the hill,\nordered them to go round and come in behind them, surprise and take them\nprisoners; which was done: the residue of the conquered people fled to\ntheir canoes, and got off to sea; the victors retired, and made no\npursuit, or very little, but drawing themselves into a body together,\ngave two great screaming shouts, which they suppose were by way of\ntriumph, and so the fight ended; and the same day, about three o\u2019clock\nin the afternoon, they also marched to their canoes. And thus the\nSpaniards had their island again free to themselves, their fright was\nover, and they saw no savages in several years after.\nAfter they were all gone, the Spaniards came out of their den, and\nviewing the field of battle, they found about two-and-thirty dead men\nupon the spot; some were killed with great long arrows, several of which\nwere found sticking in their bodies, but most of them were killed with\ntheir great wooden swords, sixteen or seventeen of which they found in\nthe field of battle, and as many bows, with a great many arrows. These\nswords were great unwieldy things, and they must be very strong men that\nused them; most of those men that were killed with them had their heads\nmashed to pieces, as we may say, or, as we call it in English, their\nbrains knocked out, and several of their arms and legs broken; so that\nit is evident they fight with inexpressible rage and fury. They found\nnot one wounded man that was not stone dead; for either they stay by\ntheir enemy till they have quite killed them, or they carry all the\nwounded men, that are not quite dead, away with them.\nThis deliverance tamed our Englishmen for a great while; the sight had\nfilled them with horror, and the consequence appeared terrible to the\nlast degree; especially upon supposing that some time or other they\nshould fall into the hands of those creatures, who would not only kill\nthem as enemies, but kill them for food as we kill our cattle. And they\nprofessed to me, that the thoughts of being eaten up like beef or\nmutton, though it was supposed it was not to be till they were dead, had\nsomething in it so horrible that it nauseated their very stomachs, made\nthem sick when they thought of it, and filled their minds with unusual\nterror, that they were not themselves for some weeks after.\nThis, as I said, tamed even the three English brutes I have been\nspeaking of, and for a great while after they were very tractable, and\nwent about the common business of the whole society well enough;\nplanted, sowed, reaped, and began to be all naturalized to the country;\nbut some time after this they fell all into such simple measures again\nas brought them into a great deal of trouble.\nThey had taken three prisoners, as I had observed; and these three being\nlusty stout young fellows, they made them servants, and taught them to\nwork for them; and as slaves they did well enough; but they did not take\ntheir measures with them as I did by my man Friday, viz. to begin with\nthem upon the principle of having saved their lives, and then instructed\nthem in the rational principles of life, much less of religion,\ncivilizing and reducing them by kind usage and affectionate arguings;\nbut as they gave them their food every day, so they gave them their work\ntoo, and kept them fully employed in drudgery enough; but they failed in\nthis by it, that they never had them to assist them and fight for them\nas I had my man Friday, who was as true to me as the very flesh upon\nmy bones.\nBut to come to the family part: Being all now good friends (for common\ndanger, as I said above, had effectually reconciled them,) they began to\nconsider their general circumstances; and the first thing that came\nunder their consideration was, whether, seeing the savages particularly\nhaunted that side of the island, and that there were more remote and\nretired parts of it equally adapted to their way of living, and\nmanifestly to their advantage, they should not rather remove their\nhabitation, and plant in some more proper place for their safety, and\nespecially for the security of their cattle and corn.\nUpon this, after long debate, it was conceived that they should not\nremove their habitation, because that some time or other they thought\nthey might hear from their governor again, meaning me; and if I should\nsend any one to seek them, I would be sure to direct them on that side,\nwhere if they should find the place demolished they would conclude the\nsavages had killed us all, and we were gone, and so our supply would\ngo away too.\nBut as to their corn and cattle, they agreed to remove them into the\nvalley where my cave was, where the land was as proper to both, and\nwhere indeed there was land enough; however, upon second thoughts they\naltered one part of that resolution too, and resolved only to remove\npart of their cattle thither, and plant part of their corn there; and\nso, if one part was destroyed, the other might be saved; and one piece\nof prudence they used, which it was very well they did; viz. that they\nnever trusted these three savages, which they had taken prisoners, with\nknowing any thing of the plantation they had made in that valley, or of\nany cattle they had there; much less of the cave there, which they kept\nin case of necessity as a safe retreat; and thither they carried also\nthe two barrels of powder which I had left them at my coming away.\nBut however they resolved not to change their habitation; yet they\nagreed, that as I had carefully covered it first with a wall and\nfortification, and then with a grove of trees; so seeing their safety\nconsisted entirely in their being concealed, of which they were now\nfully convinced, they set to work to cover and conceal the place yet\nmore effectually than before: to this purpose, as I had planted trees\n(or rather thrust in stakes which in time all grew to be trees) for some\ngood distance before the entrance into my apartment, they went on in the\nsame manner, and filled up the rest of that whole space of ground, from\nthe trees I had set quite down to the side of the creek, where, as I\nsaid, I landed my floats, and even into the very ooze where the tide\nflowed, not so much as leaving any place to land, or any sign that there\nhad been any landing thereabout. These stakes also being of a wood very\nforward to grow, as I had noted formerly, they took care to have\ngenerally very much larger and taller than those which I had planted,\nand placed them so very thick and close, that when they had been three\nor four years grown there was no piercing with the eye any considerable\nway into the plantation. As for that part which I had planted, the trees\nwere grown as thick as a man\u2019s thigh; and among them they placed so many\nother short ones, and so thick, that, in a word, it stood like a\npalisado a quarter of a mile thick, and it was next to impossible to\npenetrate it but with a little army to cut it all down; for a little dog\ncould hardly get between the trees, they stood so close.\nBut this was not all; for they did the same by all the ground to the\nright hand, and to the left, and round even to the top of the hill,\nleaving no way, not so much as for themselves to come out, but by the\nladder placed up to the side of the hill, and then lifted up and placed\nagain from the first stage up to the top; which ladder, when it was\ntaken down, nothing but what had wings or witchcraft to assist it, could\ncome at them.\nThis was excellently well contrived, nor was it less than what they\nafterwards found occasion for; which served to convince me, that as\nhuman prudence has authority of Providence to justify it, so it has,\ndoubtless, the direction of Providence to set it to work, and, would we\nlisten carefully to the voice of it, I am fully persuaded we might\nprevent many of the disasters which our lives are now by our own\nnegligence subjected to: but this by the way.\nI return to the story: They lived two years after this in perfect\nretirement, and had no more visits from the savages; they had indeed an\nalarm given them one morning, which put them in a great consternation\nfor some of the Spaniards being out early one morning on the west side,\nor rather end of the island which, by the way, was that end where I\nnever went, for fear of being discovered, they were surprised with\nseeing above twenty canoes of Indians just coming on shore.\nThey made the best of their way home in hurry enough, and, giving the\nalarm to their comrades, they kept close all that day and the next,\ngoing out only at night to make observation; but they had the good luck\nto be mistaken, for wherever the savages went, they did not land at that\ntime on the island, but pursued some other design.\nAnd now they had another broil with the three Englishmen, one of which,\na most turbulent fellow, being in a rage at one of the three slaves\nwhich I mentioned they had taken, because the fellow had not done\nsomething right which he bid him do, and seemed a little untractable in\nhis shewing him, drew a hatchet out of a frog-belt, in which he bore it\nby his side, and fell upon him, the poor savage, not to correct him but\nto kill him. One of the Spaniards who was by, seeing him give the fellow\na barbarous cut with the hatchet which he aimed at his head, but struck\ninto his shoulder, so that he thought he had cut the poor creature\u2019s arm\noff, ran to him, and entreating him not to murder the poor man, clapt\nin between him and the savage to prevent the mischief.\nThe fellow being enraged the more at this, struck at the Spaniard with\nhis hatchet, and swore he would serve him as he intended to serve the\nsavage; which the Spaniard perceiving, avoided the blow, and with a\nshovel which he had in his hand (for they were working in the field\nabout the corn-land) knocked the brute down; another of the Englishmen\nrunning at the same time to help his comrade, knocked the Spaniard down,\nand then two Spaniards more came to help their man, and a third\nEnglishman fell upon them. They had none of them any fire-arms, or any\nother weapons but hatchets and other tools, except the third Englishman;\nhe had one of my old rusty cutlasses, with which he made at the last\nSpaniards, and wounded them both. This fray set the whole family in an\nuproar, and more help coming in, they took the three Englishmen\nprisoners. The next question was, what should be done with them? they\nhad been so often mutinous, and were so furious, so desperate, and so\nidle withal, that they knew not what course to take with them, for they\nwere mischievous to the highest degree, and valued not what hurt they\ndid any man; so that, in short, it was not safe to live with them.\nThe Spaniard who was governor, told them in so many words, that if they\nhad been his own countrymen he would have hanged them all; for all laws\nand all governors were to preserve society, and those who were dangerous\nto the society ought to be expelled out of it; but as they were\nEnglishmen, and that it was to the generous kindness of an Englishman\nthat they all owed their preservation and deliverance, he would use them\nwith all possible lenity, and would leave them to the judgment of the\nother two Englishmen, who were their countrymen.\nOne of the two honest Englishmen stood up, and said they desired it\nmight not be left to them; \u201cFor,\u201d says he, \u201cI am sure we ought to\nsentence them to the gallows,\u201d and with that gives an account how Will\nAtkins, one of the three, had proposed to have all the five Englishmen\njoin together, and murder all the Spaniards when they were in\ntheir sleep.\nWhen the Spanish governor heard this, he calls to Will Atkins: \u201cHow,\nSeignior Atkins,\u201d says he, \u201cwill you murder us all? What have you to say\nto that?\u201d That hardened villain was so far from denying it, that he said\nit was true, and G-d d-mn him they would do it still before they had\ndone with them. \u201cWell, but Seignior Atkins,\u201d said the Spaniard, \u201cwhat\nhave we done to you that you will kill us? And what would you get by\nkilling us? And what must we do to prevent your killing us? Must we kill\nyou, or will you kill us? Why will you put us to the necessity of this,\nSeignior Atkins?\u201d says the Spaniard very calmly and smiling.\nSeignior Atkins was in such a rage at the Spaniard\u2019s making a jest of\nit, that had he not been held by three men, and withal had no weapons\nwith him, it was thought he would have attempted to have killed the\nSpaniard in the middle of all the company.\nThis harebrained carriage obliged them to consider seriously what was to\nbe done. The two Englishmen and the Spaniard who saved the poor savage,\nwere of the opinion that they should hang one of the three for an\nexample to the rest; and that particularly it should be he that had\ntwice attempted to commit murder with his hatchet; and indeed there was\nsome reason to believe he had done it, for the poor savage was in such a\nmiserable condition with the wound he had received, that it was thought\nhe could not live.\nBut the governor Spaniard still said, no, it was an Englishman that had\nsaved all their lives, and he would never consent to put an Englishman\nto death though he had murdered half of them; nay, he said if he had\nbeen killed himself by an Englishman, and had time left to speak, it\nshould be that they should pardon him.\nThis was so positively insisted on by the governor Spaniard, that there\nwas no gainsaying it; and as merciful counsels are most apt to prevail,\nwhere they are so earnestly pressed, so they all came into it; but then\nit was to be considered what should be done to keep them from the\nmischief they designed; for all agreed, governor and all, that means\nwere to be used for preserving the society from danger. After a long\ndebate it was agreed, first, that they should be disarmed, and not\npermitted to have either gun, or powder, or shot, or sword, or any\nweapon, and should be turned out of the society, and left to live where\nthey would, and how they could by themselves; but that none of the rest,\neither Spaniards or English, should converse with them, speak with them,\nor have any thing to do with them; that they should be forbid to come\nwithin a certain distance of the place where the rest dwelt; and that if\nthey offered to commit any disorder, so as to spoil, burn, kill, or\ndestroy any of the corn, plantings, buildings, fences, or cattle\nbelonging to the society, that they should die without mercy, and would\nshoot them wherever they could find them.\nThe governor, a man of great humanity, musing upon the sentence,\nconsidered a little upon it, and turning to the two honest Englishmen,\nsaid, \u201cHold, you must reflect, that it will be long ere they can raise\ncorn and cattle of their own, and they must not starve; we must\ntherefore allow them provisions.\u201d So he caused to be added, that they\nshould have a proportion of corn given them to last them eight months,\nand for seed to sow, by which time they might be supposed to raise some\nof their own; that they should have six milch-goats, four he-goats, and\nsix kids given them, as well for present subsistence as for a store; and\nthat they should have tools given them for their work in the field; such\nas six hatchets, an axe, a saw, and the like: but they should have none\nof these tools or provisions unless they would swear solemnly that they\nwould not hurt or injure any of the Spaniards with them, or of their\nfellow Englishmen.\nThus they dismissed them the society, and turned them out to shift for\nthemselves. They went away sullen and refractory, as neither contented\nto go away or to stay; but as there was no remedy they went, pretending\nto go and choose a place where they should settle themselves, to plant\nand live by themselves; and some provisions were given, but no weapons.\nAbout four or five days after they came again for some victuals, and\ngave the governor an account where they had pitched their tents, and\nmarked themselves out an habitation or plantation: it was a very\nconvenient place indeed, on the remotest part of the island, N.E. much\nabout the place where I providentially landed in my first voyage when I\nwas driven out to sea, the Lord alone knows whither, in my foolish\nattempt to surround the island.\nHere they built themselves two handsome huts, and contrived them in a\nmanner like my first habitation being close under the side of a hill,\nhaving some trees growing already to the three sides of it; so that by\nplanting others it would be very easily covered from the sight, unless\nnarrowly searched for. They desired some dry goat-skins for beds and\ncovering, which were given them; and upon their giving their words that\nthey would not disturb the rest, or injure any of their plantations,\nthey gave them hatchets, and what other tools they could spare; some\npeas, barley, and rice, for sowing, and, in a word, any thing they\nwanted but arms and ammunition.\nThey lived in this separate condition about six months, and had got in\ntheir first harvest, though the quantity was but small, the parcel of\nland they had planted being but little; for indeed having all their\nplantation to form, they had a great deal of work upon their hands; and\nwhen they came to make boards, and pots, and such things, they were\nquite out of their element, and could make nothing of it; and when the\nrainy season came on, for want of a cave in the earth, they could not\nkeep their grain dry, and it was in great danger of spoiling: and this\nhumbled them much; so they came and begged the Spaniards to help them,\nwhich they very readily did; and in four days worked a great hole in\nthe side of the hill for them, big enough to secure their corn and other\nthings from the rain: but it was but a poor place at best compared to\nmine; and especially as mine was then; for the Spaniards had greatly\nenlarged it, and made several new apartments in it.\nAbout three quarters of a year after this separation a new frolic took\nthese rogues, which, together with the former villany they had\ncommitted, brought mischief enough upon them, and had very near been the\nruin of the whole colony. The three new associates began, it seems, to\nbe weary of the laborious life they led, and that without hope of\nbettering their circumstances; and a whim took them that they would make\na voyage to the continent from whence the savages came, and would try if\nthey could not seize upon some prisoners among the natives there, and\nbring them home, so as to make them do the laborious part of the\nwork for them.\nThe project was not so preposterous if they had gone no farther; but\nthey did nothing and proposed nothing but had either mischief in the\ndesign or mischief in the event; and if I may give my opinion, they\nseemed to be under a blast from Heaven; for if we will not allow a\nvisible curse to pursue visible crimes, how shall we reconcile the\nevents of things with divine justice? It was certainly an apparent\nvengeance on their crime of mutiny and piracy that brought them to the\nstate they were in; and as they shewed not the least remorse for the\ncrime, but added new villanies to it, such as particularly that piece of\nmonstrous cruelty of wounding a poor slave because he did not, or\nperhaps could not understand to do what he was directed, and to wound\nhim in such a manner as, no question, made him a cripple all his life,\nand in a place where no surgeon or medicine could be had for his cure;\nand what was still worse, the murderous intent, or, to do justice to the\ncrime, the intentional murder, for such to be sure it was, as was\nafterwards the formed design they all laid to murder the Spaniards in\ncold blood, and in their sleep.\nBut I leave observing, and return to the story: The three fellows came\ndown to the Spaniards one morning, and in very humble terms desired to\nbe admitted to speak with them; the Spaniards very readily heard what\nthey had to say, which was this, that they were tired of living in the\nmanner they did, that they were not handy enough to make the necessaries\nthey wanted; and that, having no help, they found they should be\nstarved; but if the Spaniards would give them leave to take one of the\ncanoes which they came over in, and give them arms and ammunition\nproportioned for their defence, they would go over to the main, and seek\ntheir fortune, and so deliver them from the trouble of supplying them\nwith any other provisions.\nThe Spaniards were glad enough to be rid of them; but yet very honestly\nrepresented to them the certain destruction they were running into; told\nthem they had suffered such hardships upon that very spot, that they\ncould, without any spirit of prophecy, tell them that they would be\nstarved or murdered, and bade them consider of it.\nThe men replied audaciously, they should be starved if they stayed here,\nfor they could not work, and would not work; and they could but be\nstarved abroad; and if they were murdered, there was an end of them,\nthey had no wives or children to cry after them; and, in short, insisted\nimportunately upon their demand, declaring that they would go, whether\nthey would give them any arms or no.\nThe Spaniards told them with great kindness, that if they were resolved\nto go, they should not go like naked men, and be in no condition to\ndefend themselves, and that though they could ill spare their fire-arms,\nhaving not enough for themselves, yet they would let them have two\nmuskets, a pistol, and a cutlass, and each man a hatchet, which they\nthought sufficient for them.\nIn a word, they accepted the offer, and having baked them bread enough\nto serve them a month, and given them as much goat\u2019s flesh as they could\neat while it was sweet, and a great basket full of dried grapes, a pot\nfull of fresh water, and a young kid alive to kill, they boldly set out\nin a canoe for a voyage over the sea, where it was at least forty\nmiles broad.\nThe boat was indeed a large one, and would have very well carried\nfifteen or twenty men, and therefore was rather too big for them to\nmanage; but as they had a fair breeze and the flood-tide with them, they\ndid well enough; they had made a mast of a long pole, and a sail of four\nlarge goat-skins dried, which they had sewed or laced together; and away\nthey went merrily enough; the Spaniards called after them, \u201cBon veajo;\u201d\nand no man ever thought of seeing them any more.\nThe Spaniards would often say to one another, and the two honest\nEnglishmen who remained behind, how quietly and comfortably they lived\nnow those three turbulent fellows were gone; as for their ever coming\nagain, that was the remotest thing from their thoughts could be\nimagined; when, behold, after twenty-two days absence, one of the\nEnglishmen being abroad upon his planting work, sees three strange men\ncoming towards him at a distance, two of them with guns upon their\nshoulders.\nAway runs the Englishman, as if he was bewitched, and became frighted\nand amazed, to the governor Spaniard, and tells him they were all\nundone, for there were strangers landed upon the island, he could not\ntell who. The Spaniard pausing a while, says to him, \u201cHow do you mean,\nyou cannot tell who? They are savages to be sure.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo, no,\u201d says the\nEnglishman, \u201cthey are men in clothes, with arms.\u201d\u2014\u201cNay then,\u201d says the\nSpaniard, \u201cwhy are you concerned? If they are not savages, they must be\nfriends; for there is no Christian nation upon earth but will do us good\nrather than harm.\u201d\nWhile they were debating thus, came the three Englishmen, and standing\nwithout the wood which was new-planted, hallooed to them; they presently\nknew their voices, and so all the wonder of that kind ceased. But now\nthe admiration was turned upon another question, viz. What could be the\nmatter, and what made them come back again?\nIt was not long before they brought the men in; and inquiring where they\nhad been, and what they had been doing? they gave them a full account of\ntheir voyage in a few words, viz. that they reached the land in two\ndays, or something less, but finding the people alarmed at their coming,\nand preparing with bows and arrows to fight them, they durst not go on\nshore, but sailed on to the northward six or seven hours, till they came\nto a great opening, by which they perceived that the land they saw from\nour island was not the main, but an island: that entering that opening\nof the sea, they saw another island on the right hand north, and several\nmore west; and being resolved to land somewhere, they put over to one of\nthe islands which lay west, and went boldly on shore; that they found\nthe people were courteous and friendly to them, and they gave them\nseveral roots, and some dried fish, and appeared very sociable: and the\nwomen, as well as the men, were very forward to supply them with any\nthing they could get for them to eat, and brought it to them a great way\nupon their heads.\nThey continued here four days, and inquired, as well as they could of\nthem by signs, what nations were this way, and that way; and were told\nof several fierce and terrible people, that lived almost every way; who,\nas they made known by signs to them, used to eat men; but as for\nthemselves, they said, that they never ate men or women, except only\nsuch as they took in the wars; and then they owned that they made a\ngreat feast, and ate their prisoners.\nThe Englishmen inquired when they had a feast of that kind, and they\ntold them two moons ago, pointing to the moon, and then to two-fingers;\nand that their great king had two hundred prisoners now which he had\ntaken in his war, and they were feeding them to make them fat for the\nnext feast. The Englishmen seemed mighty desirous to see those\nprisoners, but the others mistaking them, thought they were desirous to\nhave some of them to carry away for their own eating. So they beckoned\nto them, pointing to the setting of the sun, and then to the rising;\nwhich was to signify, that the next morning at sun-rising they would\nbring some for them; and accordingly the next morning they brought down\nfive women and eleven men, and gave them to the Englishmen to carry with\nthem on their voyage, just as we would bring so many cows and oxen down\nto a sea-port town to victual a ship.\nAs brutish and barbarous as these fellows were at home, their stomachs\nturned at this sight, and they did not know what to do; to refuse the\nprisoners would have been the highest affront to the savage gentry that\noffered them; and what to do with them they knew not; however, upon some\ndebate, they resolved to accept of them; and in return they gave the\nsavages that brought them one of their hatchets, an old key, a knife,\nand six or seven of their bullets, which, though they did not\nunderstand, they seemed extremely pleased with; and then tying the poor\ncreatures\u2019 hands behind them, they (the people) dragged the prisoners\ninto the boat for our men.\nThe Englishmen were obliged to come away as soon as they had them, or\nelse they that gave them this noble present would certainly have expected\nthat they should have gone to work with them, have killed two or three\nof them the next morning, and perhaps have invited the donors to dinner.\nBut having taken their leave with all the respect and thanks that could\nwell pass between people, where, on either side, they understood not one\nword they could say, they put off with their boat, and came back towards\nthe first island, where when they arrived, they set eight of their\nprisoners at liberty, there being too many of them for their occasion.\nIn their voyage they endeavoured to have some communication with their\nprisoners, but it was impossible to make them understand any thing;\nnothing they could say to them, or give them, or do for them, but was\nlooked upon as going about to murder them: they first of all unbound\nthem, but the poor creatures screamed at that, especially the women, as\nif they had just felt the knife at their throats; for they immediately\nconcluded they were unbound on purpose to be killed.\nIf they gave them any thing to eat, it was the same thing; then they\nconcluded it was for fear they should sink in flesh, and so not be fat\nenough to kill; if they looked at one of them more particularly, the\nparty presently concluded it was to see whether he or she was fattest\nand fittest to kill first; nay, after they had brought them quite over,\nand began to use them kindly and treat them well, still they expected\nevery day to make a dinner or supper for their new masters.\nWhen the three wanderers had given this unaccountable history or journal\nof their voyage, the Spaniard asked them where their new family was? And\nbeing told that they had brought them on shore, and put them into one of\ntheir huts, and were come to beg some victuals for them; they (the\nSpaniards) and the other two Englishmen, that is to say, the whole\ncolony, resolved to go all down to the place and see them, and did so,\nand Friday\u2019s father with them.\nWhen they came into the hut, there they sat all bound; for when they had\nbrought them on shore they bound their hands, that they might not take\nthe boat and make their escape; there, I say, they sat all of them stark\nnaked. First, there were three men, lusty, comely fellows, well shaped,\nstraight and fair limbs, about thirty or thirty-five years of age, and\nfive women; whereof two might be from thirty to forty, two more not\nabove twenty-four or twenty-five, and the fifth, a tall, comely maiden,\nabout sixteen or seventeen. The women were well-favoured, agreeable\npersons, both in shape and features, only tawny; and two of them, had\nthey been perfect white, would have passed for handsome women, even in\nLondon itself, having very pleasant, agreeable countenances, and of a\nvery modest behaviour, especially when they came afterwards to be\nclothed, and dressed, as they called it, though that dress was very\nindifferent it must be confessed, of which hereafter.\nThe sight, you may be sure, was something uncouth to our Spaniards, who\nwere (to give them a just character) men of the best behaviour, of the\nmost calm, sedate tempers, and perfect good humour that ever I met with;\nand, in particular, of the most modesty, as will presently appear: I say\nthe sight was very uncouth, to see three naked men and five naked women,\nall together bound, and in the most miserable circumstances that human\nnature could be supposed to be, viz. to be expecting every moment to be\ndragged out, and have their brains knocked out, and then to be eaten up\nlike a calf that is killed for a dainty.\nThe first thing they did was to cause the old Indian, Friday\u2019s father,\nto go in and see first if he knew any of them, and then if he understood\nany of their speech. As soon as the old man came in, he looked seriously\nat them, but knew none of them; neither could any of them understand a\nword he said, or a sign he could make, except one of the women.\nHowever, this was enough to answer the end, which was to satisfy them,\nthat the men into whose hands they were fallen were Christians; that\nthey abhorred eating of men or women, and that they might be sure they\nwould not be killed. As soon as they were assured of this, they\ndiscovered such a joy, and by such awkward and several ways as is hard\nto describe, for it seems they were of several nations.\nThe woman who was their interpreter was bid, in the next place, to ask\nthem if they were willing to be servants, and to work for the men who\nhad brought them away to save their lives? At which they all fell a\ndancing; and presently one fell to taking up this, and another that, any\nthing that lay next, to carry on their shoulders, to intimate that they\nwere willing to work.\nThe governor, who found that the having women among them would presently\nbe attended with some inconveniency, and might occasion some strife, and\nperhaps blood, asked the three men what they intended to do with these\nwomen, and how they intended to use them, whether as servants or as\nwomen? One of the Englishmen answered very boldly and readily, that they\nwould use them as both. To which the governor said, \u201cI am not going to\nrestrain you from it; you are your own masters as to that: but this I\nthink is but just, for avoiding disorders and quarrels among you, and I\ndesire it of you for that reason only, viz. that you will all engage,\nthat if any of you take any of these women as a woman, or wife, he shall\ntake but one; and that, having taken one, none else should touch her;\nfor though we cannot marry any of you, yet it is but reasonable that\nwhile you stay here, the woman any of you takes should be maintained by\nthe man that takes her, and should be his wife; I mean,\u201d says he, \u201cwhile\nhe continues here; and that none else should have any thing to do with\nher.\u201d All this appeared so just, that every one agreed to it without any\ndifficulty.\nThen the Englishmen asked the Spaniards if they designed to take any of\nthem? But every one answered, \u201cNo;\u201d some of them said they had wives in\nSpain; and the others did not like women that were not Christians; and\nall together declared, that they would not touch one of them; which was\nan instance of such virtue as I have not met with in all my travels. On\nthe other hand, to be short, the five Englishmen took them every one a\nwife; that is to say, a temporary wife; and so they set up a new form of\nliving; for the Spaniards and Friday\u2019s father lived in my old\nhabitation, which they had enlarged exceedingly within; the three\nservants, which they had taken in the late battle of the savages, lived\nwith them; and these carried on the main part of the colony, supplying\nall the rest with food, and assisting them in any thing as they could,\nor as they found necessity required.\nBut the wonder of this story was, how five such refractory, ill-matched\nfellows should agree about these women, and that two of them should not\npitch upon the same woman, especially seeing two or three of them were,\nwithout comparison, more agreeable than the others: but they took a good\nway enough to prevent quarrelling among themselves; for they set the\nfive women by themselves in one of their huts, and they went all into\nthe other hut, and drew lots among them who should choose first.\nHe that drew to choose first, went away by himself to the hut where the\npoor naked creatures were, and fetched out her he chose; and it was\nworth observing that he that chose first took her that was reckoned the\nhomeliest and the oldest of the five, which made mirth enough among the\nrest; and even the Spaniards laughed at it; but the fellow considered\nbetter than any of them, that it was application and business that they\nwere to expect assistance in as much as any thing else, and she proved\nthe best wife in the parcel.\nWhen the poor women saw themselves in a row thus, and fetched out one by\none, the terrors of their condition returned upon them again, and they\nfirmly believed that they were now going to be devoured: accordingly,\nwhen the English sailor came in and fetched out one of them, the rest\nset up a most lamentable cry, and hung about her, and took their leave\nof her with such agonies and such affection as would have grieved the\nhardest heart in the world; nor was it possible for the Englishmen to\nsatisfy them that they were not to be immediately murdered, till they\nfetched the old man, Friday\u2019s father, who instantly let them know, that\nthe five men who had fetched them out one by one, had chosen them for\ntheir wives.\nWhen they had done this, and the fright the women were in was a little\nover, the men went to work, and the Spaniards came and helped them; and\nin a few hours they had built them every one a new hut or tent for their\nlodging apart; for those they had already were crowded with their tools,\nhousehold stuff, and provisions. The three wicked ones had pitched\nfarthest off, and the two honest ones nearer, but both on the north\nshore of the island, so that they continued separate as before: and thus\nmy island was peopled in three places, and, as I might say, three towns\nwere begun to be planted.\nAnd here it is very well worth observing, that as it often happens in\nthe world, (what the wise ends of God\u2019s providences are in such a\ndisposition of things I cannot say) the two honest fellows had the two\nworst wives; and the three reprobates, that were scarce worth hanging,\nthat were fit for nothing, and neither seemed born to do themselves\ngood, or any one else, had three clever, diligent, careful, and\ningenious wives, not that the two first were ill wives as to their\ntemper or humour; for all the five were most willing, quiet, passive,\nand subjected creatures, rather like slaves than wives; but my meaning\nis, they were not alike, capable, ingenious, or industrious, or alike\ncleanly and neat.\nAnother observation I must make, to the honour of a diligent application\non the one hand, and to the disgrace of a slothful, negligent, idle\ntemper on the other, that when I came to the place, and viewed the\nseveral improvements, planting, and management of the several little\ncolonies, the two men had so far out-gone the three, that there was no\ncomparison; they had indeed both of them as much ground laid out for\ncorn as they wanted; and the reason was, because according to my rule,\nnature dictated, that it was to no purpose to sow more corn than they\nwanted; but the difference of the cultivation, of the planting, of the\nfences, and indeed every thing else, was easy to be seen at first view.\nThe two men had innumerable young trees planted about their huts, that\nwhen you came to the place nothing was to be seen but a wood; and\nthough they had their plantation twice demolished, once by their own\ncountrymen, and once by the enemy, as shall be shewn in its place; yet\nthey had restored all again, and every thing was flourishing and\nthriving about them: they had grapes planted in order, and managed like\na vineyard, though they had themselves never seen any thing of that\nkind; and by their good ordering their vines their grapes were as good\nagain as any of the others. They had also formed themselves a retreat in\nthe thickest part of the woods, where, though there was not a natural\ncave, as I had found, yet they made one with incessant labour of their\nhands, and where, when the mischief which followed happened, they\nsecured their wives and children so as they could never be found; they\nhaving, by sticking innumerable stakes and poles of the wood, which, as\nI said, grow so easily, made a grove impassable except in one place,\nwhere they climbed up to get over the outside part, and then went in by\nways of their own leaving.\nAs to the three reprobates, as I justly call them, though they were much\ncivilized by their new settlement compared to what they were before, and\nwere not so quarrelsome, having not the same opportunity, yet one of the\ncertain companions of a profligate mind never left them, and that was\ntheir idleness. It is true, they planted corn and made fences; but\nSolomon\u2019s words were never better verified than in them: \u201cI went by the\nvineyard of the slothful, and it was overgrown with thorns;\u201d for when\nthe Spaniards came to view their crop, they could not see it in some\nplaces for weeds; the hedge had several gaps in it, where the wild goats\nhad gotten in and eaten up the corn; perhaps here and there a dead bush\nwas crammed in to stop them out for the present, but it was only\nshutting the stable door after the steed was stolen; whereas, when they\nlooked on the colony of the other two, here was the very face of\nindustry and success upon all they did; there was not a weed to be seen\nin all their corn, or a gap in any of their hedges; and they, on the\nother hand, verified Solomon\u2019s words in another place: \u201cThe diligent\nhand maketh rich;\u201d for every thing grew and thrived, and they had plenty\nwithin and without; they had more tame cattle than the others, more\nutensils and necessaries within doors, and yet more pleasure and\ndiversion too.\nIt is true, the wives of the three were very handy and cleanly within\ndoors; and having learnt the English ways of dressing and cooking from\none of the other Englishmen, who, as I said, was a cook\u2019s mate on board\nthe ship, they dressed their husbands\u2019 victuals very nicely; whereas the\nother could not be brought to understand it; but then the husband, who\nas I said, had been cook\u2019s mate, did it himself; but as for the husbands\nof the three wives, they loitered about, fetched turtles\u2019 eggs, and\ncaught fish and birds; in a word, any thing but labour, and they fared\naccordingly. The diligent lived well and comfortably and the slothful\nlived hard and beggarly; and so I believe, generally speaking, it is all\nover the world.\nBut now I come to a scene different from all that had happened before,\neither to them or me; and the origin of the story was this:\nEarly one morning there came on shore five or six canoes of Indians, or\nsavages, call them which you please; and there is no room to doubt that\nthey came upon the old errand of feeding upon their slaves; but that\npart was now so familiar to the Spaniards, and to our men too, that they\ndid not concern themselves about it as I did; but having been made\nsensible by their experience, that their only business was to lie\nconcealed, and that, if they were not seen by any of the savages, they\nwould go off again quietly when the business was done, having as yet not\nthe least notion of there being any inhabitants in the island; I say\nhaving been made sensible of this, they had nothing to do but to give\nnotice to all the three plantations to keep within doors, and not to\nshew themselves; only placing a scout in a proper place, to give notice\nwhen the boats went off to sea again.\nThis was, without doubt, very right; but a disaster spoiled all these\nmeasures, and made it known among the savages that there were\ninhabitants there, which was, in the end, the desolation of almost the\nwhole colony. After the canoes with the savages were gone off, the\nSpaniards peeped abroad again, and some of them had the curiosity to go\nto the place where they had been, to see what they had been doing. Here,\nto their great surprise, they found three savages left behind, and lying\nfast asleep upon the ground; it was supposed they had either been so\ngorged with their inhuman feast, that, like beasts, they were asleep,\nand would not stir when the others went, or they were wandered into the\nwoods, and did not come back in time to be taken in.\nThe Spaniards were greatly surprised at this sight, and perfectly at a\nloss what to do; the Spaniard governor, as it happened, was with them,\nand his advice was asked; but he professed he knew not what to do; as\nfor slaves, they had enough already; and as to killing them, they were\nnone of them inclined to that. The Spaniard governor told me they could\nnot think of shedding innocent blood; for as to them, the poor creatures\nhad done no wrong, invaded none of their property; and they thought they\nhad no just quarrel against them to take away their lives.\nAnd here I must, in justice to these Spaniards, observe, that let all\nthe accounts of Spanish cruelty in Mexico and Peru be what they will, I\nnever met with seventeen men, of any nation whatsoever, in any foreign\ncountry, who were so universally modest, temperate, virtuous, so very\ngood-humoured, and so courteous as these Spaniards; and, as to cruelty,\nthey had nothing of it in their very nature; no inhumanity, no\nbarbarity, no outrageous passions, and yet all of them men of great\ncourage and spirit.\nTheir temper and calmness had appeared in their bearing the insufferable\nusage of the three Englishmen; and their justice and humanity appeared\nnow in the case of the savages as above. After some consultation they\nresolved upon this, that they would lie still a while longer, till, if\npossible, these three men might be gone; but then the governor Spaniard\nrecollected that the three savages had no boat; and that if they were\nleft to rove about the island, they would certainly discover that there\nwere inhabitants in it, and so they should be undone that way.\nUpon this they went back again, and there lay the fellows fast asleep\nstill; so they resolved to awaken them, and take them prisoners; and\nthey did so. The poor fellows were strangely frighted when they were\nseized upon and bound, and afraid, like the women, that they should be\nmurdered and eaten; for it seems those people think all the world do as\nthey do, eating mens\u2019 flesh; but they were soon made easy as to that:\nand away they carried them.\nIt was very happy for them that they did not carry them home to their\ncastle; I mean to my palace under the hill; but they carried them first\nto the bower, where was the chief of their country work; such as the\nkeeping the goats, the planting the corn, &c.; and afterwards they\ncarried them to the habitation of the two Englishmen.\nHere they were set to work, though it was not much, they had for them to\ndo; and whether it was by negligence in guarding them, or that they\nthought the fellows could not mend themselves, I know not, but one of\nthem ran away, and taking into the woods, they could never hear of\nhim more.\nThey had good reason to believe he got home again soon after in some\nother boats or canoes of savages, who came on shore three or four weeks\nafterwards, and who, carrying on their revels as usual, went off again\nin two days time. This thought terrified them exceedingly; for they\nconcluded, and that not without good cause indeed, that if this fellow\ngot safe home among his comrades, he would certainly give them an\naccount that there were people in the island, as also how weak and few\nthey were; for this savage, as I observed before, had never been told,\nas it was very happy he had not, how many they were, or where they\nlived, nor had he ever seen or heard the fire of any of their guns, much\nless had they shewn him any other of their retired places, such as the\ncave in the valley, or the new retreat which the two Englishmen had\nmade, and the like.\nThe first testimony they had that this fellow had given intelligence of\nthem was, that about two months after this, six canoes of savages, with\nabout seven or eight, or ten men in a canoe, came rowing along the north\nside of the island, where they never used to come before, and landed\nabout an hour after sunrise, at a convenient place, about a mile from\nthe habitation of the two Englishmen, where this escaped man had been\nkept. As the Spaniard governor said, had they been all there the damage\nwould not have been so much, for not a man of them would have escaped:\nbut the case differed now very much; for two men to fifty were too much\nodds. The two men had the happiness to discover them about a league off,\nso that it was about an hour before they landed, and as they landed\nabout a mile from their huts, it was some time before they could come at\nthem. Now having great reason to believe that they were betrayed, the\nfirst thing they did was to bind the slaves which were left, and cause\ntwo of the three men whom they brought with the women, who, it seems,\nproved very faithful to them, to lead them with their two wives, and\nwhatever they could carry away with them, to their retired place in the\nwoods, which I have spoken of above, and there to bind the two fellows\nhand and foot till they heard farther.\nIn the next place, seeing the savages were all come on shore, and that\nthey bent their course directly that way, they opened the fences where\ntheir milch-goats were kept, and drove them all out, leaving their goats\nto straggle into the wood, whither they pleased, that the savages might\nthink they were all bred wild; but the rogue who came with them was too\ncunning for that, and gave them an account of it all, for they went\ndirectly to the place.\nWhen the poor frighted men had secured their wives and goods, they sent\nthe other slave they had of the three, who came with the women, and who\nwas at their place by accident, away to the Spaniards with all speed, to\ngive them the alarm, and desire speedy help; and in the mean time they\ntook their arms, and what ammunition they had, and retreated towards the\nplace in the wood where their wives were sent, keeping at a distance;\nyet so that they might see, if possible, which way the savages took.\nThey had not gone far but that, from a rising ground, they could see the\nlittle army of their enemies come on directly to their habitation, and\nin a moment more could see all their huts and household-stuff flaming up\ntogether, to their great grief and mortification; for they had a very\ngreat loss, and to them irretrievable, at least for some time. They kept\ntheir station for a while, till they found the savages, like wild\nbeasts, spread themselves all over the place, rummaging every way, and\nevery place they could think of, in search for prey, and in particular\nfor the people, of whom it plainly appeared they had intelligence.\nThe two Englishmen, seeing this, thinking themselves not secure where\nthey stood, as it was likely some of the wild people might come that\nway, so they might come too many together, thought it proper to make\nanother retreat about half a mile farther, believing, as it afterwards\nhappened, that the farther they strolled, the fewer would be together.\nThe next halt was at the entrance into a very thick grown part of the\nwoods, and where an old trunk of a tree stood, which was hollow, and\nvastly large; and in this tree they both took their standing, resolving\nto see what might offer.\nThey had not stood there long, but two of the savages appeared running\ndirectly that way, as if they had already notice where they stood, and\nwere coming up to attack them; and a little way farther they espied\nthree more coming after them, and five more beyond them, all coming the\nsame way; besides which, they saw seven or eight more at a distance,\nrunning another way; for, in a word, they ran every way, like sportsmen\nbeating for their game.\nThe poor men were now in great perplexity, whether they should stand and\nkeep their posture, or fly; but after a very short debate with\nthemselves, they considered that if the savages ranged the country thus\nbefore help came, they might, perhaps, find out their retreat in the\nwoods, and then all would be lost; so they resolved to stand them there;\nand if there were too many to deal with, then they would get to the top\nof the tree, from whence they doubted not to defend themselves, fire\nexcepted, as long as their ammunition lasted, though all the savages\nthat were landed, which were near fifty, were to attack them.\nHaving resolved upon this, they next considered whether they should fire\nat the two first, or wait for the three, and so take the middle party,\nby which the two and the five that followed would be separated: at\nlength they resolved to let the two first pass by, unless they should\nspy them in the tree, and come to attack them. The two first savages\nalso confirmed them in this resolution, by turning a little from them\ntowards another part of the wood; but the three, and the five after\nthem, came forwards directly to the tree, as if they had known the\nEnglishmen were there.\nSeeing them come so straight towards them, they resolved to take them in\na line as they came; and as they resolved to fire but one at a time,\nperhaps the first shot might hit them all three; to which purpose, the\nman who was to fire put three or four bullets into his piece, and having\na fair loop-hole, as it were, from a broken hole in the tree, he took a\nsure aim, without being seen, waiting till they were within about thirty\nyards of the tree, so that he could not miss.\nWhile they were thus waiting, and the savages came on, they plainly saw,\nthat one of the three was the runaway savage that had escaped from them;\nand they both knew him distinctly, and resolved that, if possible, he\nshould not escape, though they should both fire; so the other stood\nready with his piece, that if he did not drop at the first shot, he\nshould be sure to have a second. But the first was too good a marksman\nto miss his aim; for as the savages kept near one another, a little\nbehind in a line, he fired, and hit two of them directly; the foremost\nwas killed outright, being shot in the head; the second, which was the\nrunaway Indian, was shot through the body, and fell, but was not quite\ndead; and the third had a little scratch in the shoulder, perhaps by the\nsame ball that went through the body of the second; and being dreadfully\nfrightened, though not so much hurt, sat down upon the ground, screaming\nand yelling in a hideous manner.\nThe five that were behind, more frightened with the noise than sensible\nof the danger, stood still at first; for the woods made the sound a\nthousand times bigger than it really was, the echoes rattling from one\nside to another, and the fowls rising from all parts, screaming, and\nevery sort making a different noise, according to their kind; just as it\nwas when I fired the first gun that perhaps was ever shot off in\nthe island.\nHowever, all being silent again, and they not knowing what the matter\nwas, came on unconcerned, till they came to the place where their\ncompanions lay in a condition miserable enough. Here the poor ignorant\ncreatures, not sensible that they were within reach of the same\nmischief, stood all together over the wounded man, talking, and, as may\nbe supposed, inquiring of him how he came to be hurt; and who, it is\nvery rational to believe, told them that a flash of fire first, and\nimmediately after that thunder from their gods, had killed those two and\nwounded him. This, I say, is rational; for nothing is more certain than\nthat, as they saw no man near them, so they had never heard a gun in all\ntheir lives, nor so much as heard of a gun; neither knew they anything\nof killing and wounding at a distance with fire and bullets: if they\nhad, one might reasonably believe they would not have stood so\nunconcerned to view the fate of their fellows, without some\napprehensions of their own.\nOur two men, as they confessed to me, were grieved to be obliged to kill\nso many poor creatures, who had no notion of their danger; yet, having\nthem all thus in their power, and the first having loaded his piece\nagain, resolved to let fly both together among them; and singling out,\nby agreement, which to aim at, they shot together, and killed, or very\nmuch wounded, four of them; the fifth, frightened even to death, though\nnot hurt, fell with the rest; so that our men, seeing them all fall\ntogether, thought they had killed them all.\nThe belief that the savages were all killed made our two men come boldly\nout from the tree before they had charged their guns, which was a wrong\nstep; and they were under some surprise when they came to the place, and\nfound no less than four of them alive, and of them two very little hurt,\nand one not at all. This obliged them to fall upon them with the stocks\nof their muskets; and first they made sure of the runaway savage, that\nhad been the cause of all the mischief, and of another that was hurt in\nthe knee, and put them out of their pain; then the man that was not hurt\nat all came and kneeled down to them, with his two hands held up, and\nmade piteous moans to them, by gestures and signs, for his life, but\ncould not say one word to them that they could understand. However, they\nmade signs to him to sit down at the foot of a tree hard by; and one of\nthe Englishmen, with a piece of rope-yarn, which he had by great chance\nin his pocket, tied his two hands behind him, and there they left him;\nand with what speed they could made after the other two, which were gone\nbefore, fearing they, or any more of them, should find the way to their\ncovered place in the woods, where their wives, and the few goods they\nhad left, lay. They came once in sight of the two men, but it was at a\ngreat distance; however, they had the satisfaction to see them cross\nover a valley towards the sea, the quite contrary way from that which\nled to their retreat, which they were afraid of; and being satisfied\nwith that, they went back to the tree where they left their prisoner,\nwho as they supposed was delivered by his comrades; for he was gone, and\nthe two pieces of rope-yarn with which they had bound him, lay just at\nthe foot of the tree.\nThey were now in as great a concern as before, not knowing what course\nto take, or how near the enemy might be, or in what numbers; so they\nresolved to go away to the place where their wives were, to see if all\nwas well there, and to make them easy, who were in fright enough to be\nsure; for though the savages were their own country-folks, yet they were\nmost terribly afraid of them, and perhaps the more, for the knowledge\nthey had of them.\nWhen they came thither, they found the savages had been in the wood, and\nvery near the place, but had not found it; for indeed it was\ninaccessible, by the trees standing so thick, as before, unless the\npersons seeking it had been directed by those that knew it, which these\nwere not; they found, therefore, every thing very safe, only the women\nin a terrible fright. While they were here they had the comfort of seven\nof the Spaniards coming to their assistance: the other ten with their\nservants, and old Friday, I mean Friday\u2019s father, were gone in a body to\ndefend their bower, and the corn and cattle that were kept there, in\ncase the savages should have roved over to that side of the country; but\nthey did not spread so far. With the seven Spaniards came one of the\nsavages, who, as I said, were their prisoners formerly, and with them\nalso came the savage whom the Englishmen had left bound hand and foot at\nthe tree; for it seems they came that way, saw the slaughter of the\nseven men, and unbound the eighth, and brought him along with them,\nwhere, however, they were obliged to bind him again, as they had done\nthe two others, who were left when the third run away.\nThe prisoners began now to be a burden to them; and they were so afraid\nof their escaping, that they thought they were under an absolute\nnecessity to kill them for their own preservation: however, the Spaniard\ngovernor would not consent to it; but ordered, that they should be sent\nout of the way to my old cave in the valley, and be kept there, with two\nSpaniards to guard them and give them food; which was done; and they\nwere bound there hand and foot for that night.\nWhen the Spaniards came, the two Englishmen were so encouraged, that\nthey could not satisfy themselves to stay any longer there; but taking\nfive of the Spaniards, and themselves, with four muskets and a pistol\namong them, and two stout quarter-staves, away they went in quest of the\nsavages. And first, they came to the tree where the men lay that had\nbeen killed; but it was easy to see that some more of the savages had\nbeen there; for they attempted to carry their dead men away, and had\ndragged two of them a good way, but had given it over; from thence they\nadvanced to the first rising ground, where they had stood and seen their\ncamp destroyed, and where they had the mortification still to see some\nof the smoke; but neither could they here see any of the savages: they\nthen resolved, though with all possible caution, to go forward towards\ntheir ruined plantation; but a little before they came thither, coming\nin sight of the sea-shore, they saw plainly the savages all embarking\nagain in their canoes, in order to be gone.\nThey seemed sorry at first that there was no way to come at them to give\nthem a parting blow; but upon the whole were very well satisfied to be\nrid of them.\nThe poor Englishmen being now twice ruined, and all their improvements\ndestroyed, the rest all agreed to come and help them to rebuild, and to\nassist them with needful supplies. Their three countrymen, who were not\nyet noted for having the least inclination to do any thing good, yet, as\nsoon as they heard of it (for they, living remote, knew nothing till all\nwas over), came and offered their help and assistance, and did very\nfriendly work for several days to restore their habitations and make\nnecessaries for them; and thus in a little time they were set upon their\nlegs again.\nAbout two days after this they had the farther satisfaction of seeing\nthree of the savages\u2019 canoes come driving onshore, and at some distance\nfrom them, with two drowned men; by which they had reason to believe\nthat they had met with a storm at sea, which had overset some of them,\nfor it blew very hard the night after they went off.\nHowever, as some might miscarry, so on the other hand enough of them\nescaped to inform the rest, as well of what they had done, as of what\nhappened to them; and to whet them on to another enterprise of the same\nnature, which they, it seems, resolved to attempt, with sufficient force\nto carry all before them; for except what the first man told them of\ninhabitants, they could say little to it of their own knowledge; for\nthey never saw one man, and the fellow being killed that had affirmed\nit, they had no other witness to confirm it to them.\nIt was five or six months after this before they heard any more of the\nsavages, in which time our men were in hopes they had not forgot their\nformer bad luck, or had given over the hopes of better; when on a sudden\nthey were invaded with a most formidable fleet of no less than\ntwenty-eight canoes, full of savages, armed with bows and arrows, great\nclubs, wooden swords, and such-like engines of war; and they brought\nsuch numbers with them, that in short it put all our people into the\nutmost consternation.\nAs they came on shore in the evening, and at the easternmost side of the\nisland, our men had that night to consult and consider what to do; and\nin the first place, knowing that their being entirely concealed was\ntheir only safety before, and would much more be so now, while the\nnumber of their enemies was so great, they therefore resolved, first of\nall, to take down the huts which were built for the two Englishmen, and\ndrive away their goats to the old cave; because they supposed the\nsavages would go directly thither as soon as it was day, to play the old\ngame over again, though they did not now land within two leagues of it.\nIn the next place, they drove away all the flock of goats they had at\nthe old bower, as I called it, which belonged to the Spaniards; and, in\nshort, left as little appearance of inhabitants any where as possible;\nand the next morning early they posted themselves with all their force\nat the plantation of the two men, waiting for their coming. As they\nguessed, so it happened: these new invaders, leaving their canoes at the\neast end of the island, came ranging along the shore, directly towards\nthe place, to the number of two hundred and fifty, as near as our men\ncould judge. Our army was but small indeed; but that which was worse,\nthey had not arms for all their number neither: the whole account, it\nseems, stood thus:\u2014first, as to men:\n     17 Spaniards.\n      5 Englishmen.\n      1 Old Friday, or Friday\u2019s father.\n      3 Slaves, taken with the women, who proved very\n          faithful.\n      3 Other slaves who lived with the Spaniards.\n           To arm these they had:\n     11 Muskets.\n      5 Pistols.\n      3 Fowling-pieces.\n      5 Muskets, or fowling-pieces, which were taken by\n           me from the mutinous seamen whom I reduced.\n      2 Swords.\n      3 Old halberts.\nTo their slaves they did not give either musket or fusil, but they had\nevery one an halbert, or a long staff, like a quarter-staff, with a\ngreat spike of iron fastened into each end of it, and by his side a\nhatchet; also every one of our men had hatchets. Two of the women could\nnot be prevailed upon but they would come into the fight, and they had\nbows and arrows, which the Spaniards had taken from the savages when the\nfirst action happened, which I have spoken of, where the Indians fought\nwith one another; and the women had hatchets too.\nThe Spaniard governor, whom I have described so often, commanded the\nwhole; and William Atkins, who, though a dreadful fellow for wickedness,\nwas a most daring, bold fellow, commanded under him. The savages came\nforward like lions, and our men, which was the worst of their fate, had\nno advantage in their situation; only that Will Atkins, who now proved a\nmost useful fellow, with six men, was planted just behind a small\nthicket of bushes, as an advanced guard, with orders to let the first of\nthem pass by, and then fire into the middle of them; and as soon as he\nhad fired to make his retreat, as nimbly as he could, round a part of\nthe wood, and so come in behind the Spaniards where they stood, having a\nthicket of trees all before them.\nWhen the savages came on, they ran straggling about every way in heaps,\nout of all manner of order, and Will Atkins let about fifty of them pass\nby him; then seeing the rest come in a very thick throng, he orders\nthree of his men to fire, having loaded their muskets with six or seven\nbullets apiece, about as big as large pistol-bullets. How many they\nkilled or wounded they knew not; but the consternation and surprise was\ninexpressible among the savages, who were frighted to the last degree,\nto hear such a dreadful noise, and see their men killed, and others\nhurt, but see nobody that did it. When in the middle of their fright,\nWilliam Atkins and his other three let fly again among the thickest of\nthem and in less than a minute the first three, being loaded again, gave\nthem a third volley.\nHad William Atkins and his men retired immediately, as soon as they had\nfired, as they were ordered to do; or had the rest of the body been at\nhand to have poured in their shot continually, the savages had been\neffectually routed; for the terror that was among them came principally\nfrom this; viz. that they were killed by the gods with thunder and\nlightning, and could see nobody that hurt them: but William Atkins\nstaying to load again, discovered the cheat; some of the savages who\nwere at a distance, spying them, came upon them behind; and though\nAtkins and his men fired at them also, two or three times, and killed\nabove twenty, retiring as fast as they could, yet they wounded Atkins\nhimself, and killed one of his fellow Englishmen with their arrows, as\nthey did afterwards one Spaniard, and one of the Indian slaves who came\nwith the women. This slave was a most gallant fellow, and fought most\ndesperately, killing five of them with his own hand, having no weapon\nbut one of the armed staves and a hatchet.\nOur men being thus hard laid at, Atkins wounded, and two other men\nkilled, retreated to a rising ground in the wood; and the Spaniards,\nafter firing three vollies upon them, retreated also; for their number\nwas so great, and they were so desperate, that though above fifty of\nthem were killed, and more than so many wounded, yet they came on in the\nteeth of our men, fearless of danger, and shot their arrows like a\ncloud; and it was observed, that their wounded men, who were not quite\ndisabled, were made outrageous by their wounds, and fought like madmen.\nWhen our men retreated, they left the Spaniard and the Englishman that\nwere killed behind them; and the savages, when they came up to them,\nkilled them over again in a wretched manner, breaking their arms, legs,\nand heads, with their clubs and wooden swords, like true savages. But\nfinding our men were gone, they did not seem inclined to pursue them,\nbut drew themselves up in a kind of ring, which is, it seems, their\ncustom, and shouted twice in token of their victory; after which, they\nhad the mortification to see several of their wounded men fall, dying\nwith the mere loss of blood.\nThe Spaniard governor having drawn his little body up together upon a\nrising ground, Atkins, though he was wounded, would have had him march,\nand charge them again all together at once: but the Spaniard replied,\n\u201cSeignior Atkins, you see how their wounded men fight; let them alone\ntill morning; all these wounded men will be stiff and sore with their\nwounds, and faint with the loss of blood, and so we shall have the fewer\nto engage.\u201d\nThe advice was good; but Will Atkins replied merrily, \u201cThat\u2019s true,\nSeignior, and so shall I too; and that\u2019s the reason I would go on while\nI am warm.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell, Seignior Atkins,\u201d says the Spaniard, \u201cyou have\nbehaved gallantly, and done your part; we will fight for you, if you\ncannot come on; but I think it best to stay till morning:\u201d so\nthey waited.\nBut as it was a clear moonlight night, and they found the savages in\ngreat disorder about their dead and wounded men, and a great hurry and\nnoise among them where they lay, they afterwards resolved to fall upon\nthem in the night, especially if they could come to give them but one\nvolley before they were discovered. This they had a fair opportunity to\ndo; for one of the two Englishmen, in whose quarter it was where the\nfight began, led them round between the woods and the sea-side,\nwestward, and turning short south, they came so near where the thickest\nof them lay, that before they were seen or heard, eight of them fired in\namong them, and did dreadful execution upon them; in half a minute more\neight others fired after them, pouring in their small shot in such a\nquantity, that abundance were killed and wounded; and all this while\nthey were not able to see who hurt them, or which way to fly.\nThe Spaniards charged again with the utmost expedition, and then\ndivided themselves into three bodies, and resolved to fall in among them\nall together. They had in each body eight persons; that is to say,\ntwenty-four, whereof were twenty-two men, and the two women, who, by the\nway, fought desperately.\nThey divided the fire-arms equally in each party, and so of the halberts\nand staves. They would have had the women keep back; but they said they\nwere resolved to die with their husbands. Having thus formed their\nlittle army, they marched out from among the trees, and came up to the\nteeth of the enemy, shouting and hallooing as loud as they could. The\nsavages stood all together, but were in the utmost confusion, hearing\nthe noise of our men shouting from three quarters together; they would\nhave fought if they had seen us; and as soon as we came near enough to\nbe seen, some arrows were shot, and poor old Friday was wounded, though\nnot dangerously. But our men gave them no time, but running up to them,\nfired among them three ways, and then fell in with the butt ends of\ntheir muskets, their swords, armed staves, and hatchets; and laid about\nthem so well, that in a word they set up a dismal screaming and howling,\nflying to save their lives which way soever they could.\nOur men were tired with the execution; and killed, or mortally wounded,\nin the two fights, about one hundred and eighty of them: the rest, being\nfrighted out of their wits, scoured through the woods and over the\nhills, with all the speed that fear and nimble feet could help them to\ndo; and as we did not trouble ourselves much to pursue them, they got\nall together to the sea-side, where they landed, and where their canoes\nlay. But their disaster was not at an end yet, for it blew a terrible\nstorm of wind that evening from the seaward, so that it was impossible\nfor them to put off; nay, the storm continuing all night, when the tide\ncame up their canoes were most of them driven by the surge of the sea so\nhigh upon the shore, that it required infinite toil to get them off; and\nsome of them were even dashed to pieces against the beach, or against\none another.\nOur men, though glad of their victory, yet got little rest that night;\nbut having refreshed themselves as well as they could, they resolved to\nmarch to that part of the island where the savages were fled, and see\nwhat posture they were in. This necessarily led them over the place\nwhere the fight had been, and where they found several of the poor\ncreatures not quite dead, and yet past recovering life; a sight\ndisagreeable enough to generous minds; for a truly great man, though\nobliged by the law of battle to destroy his enemy, takes no delight in\nhis misery.\nHowever, there was no need to give any order in this case; for their own\nsavages, who were their servants, dispatched those poor creatures with\ntheir hatchets.\nAt length they came in view of the place where the more miserable\nremains of the savages\u2019 army lay, where there appeared about one hundred\nstill: their posture was generally sitting upon the ground, with their\nknees up towards their mouth, and the head put between the hands,\nleaning down upon the knees.\nWhen our men came within two musket-shot of them, the Spaniard governor\nordered two muskets to be fired without ball, to alarm them; this he\ndid, that by their countenance he might know what to expect, viz.\nwhether they were still in heart to fight, or were so heartily beaten,\nas to be dispirited and discouraged, and so he might manage accordingly.\nThis stratagem took; for as soon as the savages heard the first gun, and\nsaw the flash of the second, they started up upon their feet in the\ngreatest consternation imaginable; and as our men advanced swiftly\ntowards them, they all ran screaming and yawling away, with a kind of an\nhowling noise, which our men did not understand, and had never heard\nbefore; and thus they ran up the hills into the country.\nAt first our men had much rather the weather had been calm, and they\nhad all gone away to sea; but they did not then consider, that this\nmight probably have been the occasion of their coming again in such\nmultitudes as not to be resisted; or, at least, to come so many and so\noften, as would quite desolate the island and starve them. Will Atkins\ntherefore, who, notwithstanding his wound, kept always with them, proved\nthe best counsellor in this case. His advice was, to take the advantage\nthat offered, and clap in between them and their boats, and so deprive\nthem of the capacity of ever returning any more to plague the island.\nThey consulted long about this, and some were against it, for fear of\nmaking the wretches fly into the woods, and live there desperate; and so\nthey should have them to hunt like wild beasts, be afraid to stir about\ntheir business, and have their plantation continually rifled, all their\ntame goats destroyed, and, in short, be reduced to a life of\ncontinual distress.\nWill Atkins told them they had better have to do with one hundred men\nthan with one hundred nations; that as they must destroy their boats, so\nthey must destroy the men, or be all of them destroyed themselves. In a\nword, he shewed them the necessity of it so plainly, that they all came\ninto it; so they went to work immediately with the boats, and getting\nsome dry wood together from a dead tree, they tried to set some of them\non fire; but they were so wet that they would scarce burn. However, the\nfire so burned the upper part, that it soon made them unfit for swimming\nin the sea as boats. When the Indians saw what they were about, some of\nthem came running out of the woods, and coming as near as they could to\nour men, kneeled down and cried, _Oa, Oa, Waramokoa_, and some other\nwords of their language, which none of the others understood any thing\nof; but as they made pitiful gestures and strange noises, it was easy to\nunderstand they begged to have their boats spared, and that they would\nbe gone, and never return thither again.\nBut our men were now satisfied, that they had no way to preserve\nthemselves or to save their colony, but effectually to prevent any of\nthese people from ever going home again; depending upon this, that if\never so much as one of them got back into their country to tell the\nstory, the colony was undone; so that letting them know that they should\nnot have any mercy, they fell to work with their canoes, and destroyed\nthem, every one that the storm had not destroyed before; at the sight of\nwhich the savages raised a hideous cry in the woods, which our people\nheard plain enough; after which they ran about the island like\ndistracted men; so that, in a word, our men did not really know at first\nwhat to do with them.\nNor did the Spaniards, with all their prudence, consider that while they\nmade those people thus desperate, they ought to have kept good guard at\nthe same time upon their plantations; for though it is true they had\ndriven away their cattle, and the Indians did not find their main\nretreat, I mean my old castle at the hill, nor the cave in the valley;\nyet they found out my plantation at the bower, and pulled it all to\npieces, and all the fences and planting about it; trod all the corn\nunder foot; tore up the vines and grapes, being just then almost ripe,\nand did our men an inestimable damage, though to themselves not one\nfarthing\u2019s-worth of service.\nThough our men were able to fight them upon all occasions, yet they were\nin no condition to pursue them, or hunt them up and down; for as they\nwere too nimble of foot for our men when they found them single, so our\nmen durst not go about single for fear of being surrounded with their\nnumbers: the best was, they had no weapons; for though they had bows\nthey had no arrows left, nor any materials to make any, nor had they any\nedged tool or weapon among them. The extremity and distress they were\nreduced to was great, and indeed deplorable, but at the same time our\nmen were also brought to very hard circumstances by them; for though\ntheir retreats were preserved, yet their provision was destroyed, and\ntheir harvest spoiled; and what to do or which way to turn themselves,\nthey knew not; the only refuge they had now was the stock of cattle they\nhad in the valley by the cave, and some little corn which grew there.\nThe three Englishmen, William Atkins and his comrades, were now reduced\nto two, one of them being killed by an arrow, which struck him on the\nside of his head, just under the temples, so that he never spoke more;\nand it was very remarkable, that this was the same barbarous fellow who\ncut the poor savage slave with his hatchet, and who afterwards intended\nto have murdered the Spaniards.\nI look upon their case to have been worse at this time than mine was at\nany time after I first discovered the grains of barley and rice, and got\ninto the method of planting and raising my corn, and my tame cattle; for\nnow they had, as I may say, an hundred wolves upon the island, which\nwould devour every thing they could come at, yet could be very hardly\ncome at themselves.\nThe first thing they concluded when they saw what their circumstances\nwere, was, that they would, if possible, drive them up to the farther\npart of the island, south-east, that if any more savages came on shore,\nthey might not find one another; then that they would daily hunt and\nharass them, and kill as many of them as they could come at, till they\nhad reduced the number; and if they could at last tame them, and bring\nthem to any thing, they would give them corn, and teach them how to\nplant, and live upon their daily Labour.\nIn order to this they followed them, and so terrified them with their\nguns, that in a few days, if any of them fired a gun at an Indian, if he\ndid not hit him, yet he would fall down for fear; and so dreadfully\nfrighted they were, that they kept out of sight farther and farther,\ntill at last our men following them, and every day almost killing and\nwounding some of them, they kept up in the woods and hollow places so\nmuch, that it reduced them to the utmost misery for want of food; and\nmany were afterwards found dead in the woods, without any hurt, but\nmerely starved to death.\nWhen our men found this, it made their hearts relent, and pity moved\nthem; especially the Spaniard governor, who was the most gentleman-like,\ngenerous-minded man that ever I met with in my life; and he proposed, if\npossible, to take one of them alive, and bring him to understand what\nthey meant, so far as to be able to act as interpreter, and to go among\nthem, and see if they might be brought to some conditions that might be\ndepended upon, to save their lives, and do us no spoil.\nIt was some time before any of them could be taken; but being weak, and\nhalf-starved, one of them was at last surprised, and made a prisoner: he\nwas sullen at first, and would neither eat nor drink; but finding\nhimself kindly used, and victuals given him, and no violence offered\nhim, he at last grew tractable, and came to himself.\nThey brought old Friday to him, who talked often with him, and told him\nhow kind the others would be to them all: that they would not only save\ntheir lives, but would give them a part of the island to live in,\nprovided they would give satisfaction; that they should keep in their\nown bounds, and not come beyond them, to injure or prejudice others; and\nthat they should have corn given them, to plant and make it grow for\ntheir bread, and some bread given them for their present subsistence;\nand old Friday bade the fellow go and talk with the rest of his\ncountrymen, and hear what they said to it, assuring them that if they\ndid not agree immediately they should all be destroyed.\nThe poor wretches, thoroughly humbled, and reduced in number to about\nthirty-seven, closed with the proposal at the first offer, and begged to\nhave some food given them; upon which twelve Spaniards and two\nEnglishmen, well armed, and three Indian slaves, and old Friday, marched\nto the place where they were; the three Indian slaves carried them a\nlarge quantity of bread, and some rice boiled up to cakes, and dried in\nthe sun, and three live goats; and they were ordered to go to the side\nof an hill, where they sat down, ate the provisions very thankfully, and\nwere the most faithful fellows to their words that could be thought of;\nfor except when they came to beg victuals and directions they never came\nout of their bounds; and there they lived when I came to the island, and\nI went to see them.\nThey had taught them both to plant corn, make bread, breed tame goats,\nand milk them; they wanted nothing but wives, and they soon would have\nbeen a nation: they were confined to a neck of land surrounded with high\nrocks behind them, and lying plain towards the sea before them, on the\nsouth-east corner of the island; they had land enough, and it was very\ngood and fruitful; for they had a piece of land about a mile and a half\nbroad, and three or four miles in length.\nOur men taught them to make wooden spades, such as I made for myself;\nand gave among them twelve hatchets, and three or four knives; and there\nthey lived, the most subjected innocent creatures that were ever\nheard of.\nAfter this the colony enjoyed a perfect tranquillity with respect to the\nsavages, till I came to revisit them, which was in about two years. Not\nbut that now and then some canoes of savages came on shore for their\ntriumphal, unnatural feasts; but as they were of several nations, and,\nperhaps, had never heard of those that came before, or the reason of it,\nthey did not make any search or inquiry after their countrymen; and if\nthey had, it would have been very hard for them to have found them out.\nThus, I think, I have given a full account of all that happened to them\nto my return, at least that was worth notice. The Indians, or savages,\nwere wonderfully civilized by them, and they frequently went among them;\nbut forbid, on pain of death, any of the Indians coming to them,\nbecause they would not have their settlement betrayed again.\nOne thing was very remarkable, viz. that they taught the savages to make\nwicker-work, or baskets; but they soon outdid their masters; for they\nmade abundance of most ingenious things in wicker-work; particularly all\nsorts of baskets, sieves, bird-cages, cupboards, &c. as also chairs to\nsit on, stools, beds, couches, and abundance of other things, being very\ningenious at such work when they were once put in the way of it.\nMy coming was a particular relief to these people, because we furnished\nthem with knives, scissars, spades, shovels, pickaxes, and all things of\nthat kind which they could want.\nWith the help of these tools they were so very handy, that they came at\nlast to build up their huts, or houses, very handsomely; raddling, or\nworking it up like basket-work all the way round, which was a very\nextraordinary piece of ingenuity, and looked very odd; but was an\nexceeding good fence, as well against heat, as against all sorts of\nvermin; and our men were so taken with it, that they got the wild\nsavages to come and do the like for them; so that when I came to see the\ntwo Englishmen\u2019s colonies, they looked, at a distance, as if they lived\nall like bees in a hive; and as for Will Atkins, who was now become a\nvery industrious, necessary, and sober fellow, he had made himself such\na tent of basket work as I believe was never seen. It was one hundred\nand twenty paces round on the outside, as I measured by my steps; the\nwalls were as close worked as a basket, in pannels or squares,\nthirty-two in number, and very strong, standing about seven feet high:\nin the middle was another not above twenty-two paces round, but built\nstronger, being eight-square in its form, and in the eight corners stood\neight very strong posts, round the top of which he laid strong pieces,\njoined together with wooden pins, from which he raised a pyramid before\nthe roof of eight rafters, very handsome I assure you, and joined\ntogether very well, though he had no nails, and only a few iron spikes,\nwhich he had made himself too, out of the old iron that I had left\nthere; and indeed this fellow shewed abundance of ingenuity in several\nthings which he had no knowledge of; he made himself a forge, with a\npair of wooden bellows to blow the fire; he made himself charcoal for\nhis work, and he formed out of one of the iron crows a middling good\nanvil to hammer upon; in this manner he made many things, but especially\nhooks, staples and spikes, bolts and hinges. But to return to the house:\nafter he pitched the roof of his innermost tent, he worked it up between\nthe rafters with basket-work, so firm, and thatched that over again so\ningeniously with rice-straw, and over that a large leaf of a tree, which\ncovered the top, that his house was as dry as if it had been tiled or\nslated. Indeed he owned that the savages made the basket-work for him.\nThe outer circuit was covered, as a lean-to, all round his inner,\napartment, and long rafters lay from the thirty two angles to the top\nposts of the inner house, being about twenty feet distant; so that there\nwas a space like a walk within the outer wicker wall, and without the\ninner, near twenty feet wide.\nThe inner place he partitioned off with the same wicker work, but much\nfairer, and divided into six apartments, for that he had six rooms on a\nfloor, and out of every one of these there was a door: first, into the\nentry, or coming into the main tent; and another door into the space or\nwalk that was round it; so that this walk was also divided into six\nequal parts, which served not only for a retreat, but to store up any\nnecessaries which the family had occasion for. These six spaces not\ntaking up the whole circumference, what other apartments the outer\ncircle had, were thus ordered: as soon as you were in at the door of the\nouter circle, you had a short passage straight before you to the door of\nthe inner house; but on either side was a wicker partition, and a door\nin it, by which you went first into a large room or storehouse, twenty\nfeet wide, and about thirty feet long, and through that into another\nnot quite so long: so that in the outer circle were ten handsome rooms,\nsix of which were only to be come at through the apartments of the inner\ntent, and served as closets or retired rooms to the respective chambers\nof the inner circle; and four large warehouses or barns, or what you\nplease to call them, which went in through one another, two on either\nhand of the passage that led through the outer door to the inner tent.\nSuch a piece of basket-work, I believe, was never seen in the world; nor\nan house or tent so neatly contrived, much less so built. In this great\nbeehive lived the three families; that is to say, Will Atkins and his\ncompanions; the third was killed, but his wife remained with three\nchildren; for she was, it seems, big with child when he died, and the\nother two were not at all backward to give the widow her full share of\nevery thing, I mean as to their corn, milk, grapes, &c. and when they\nkilled a kid, or found a turtle on the shore; so that they all lived\nwell enough, though it was true, they were not so industrious as the\nother two, as has been observed already.\nOne thing, however, cannot be omitted, viz. that, as for religion, I\ndon\u2019t know that there was any thing of that kind among them; they pretty\noften indeed put one another in mind that there was a God, by the very\ncommon method of seamen, viz. swearing by his name; nor were their poor,\nignorant, savage wives much the better for having been married to\nChristians as we must call them; for as they knew very little of God\nthemselves, so they were utterly incapable of entering into any\ndiscourse with their wives about a God or to talk any thing to them\nconcerning religion.\nThe utmost of all the improvement which I can say the wives had made\nfrom them, was, that they had taught them to speak English pretty well;\nand all the children they had, which were near twenty in all were taught\nto speak English too, from their first learning to speak, though they at\nfirst spoke it in a very broken manner, like their mothers. There were\nnone of those children above six years old when I came thither; for it\nwas not much above seven years that they had fetched these five savage\nladies over, but they had all been pretty fruitful, for they had all\nchildren, more or less: I think the cook\u2019s mate\u2019s wife was big of her\nsixth child; and the mothers were all a good sort of well-governed,\nquiet, laborious women, modest and decent, helpful to one another,\nmighty observant and subject to their masters, I cannot call them\nhusbands; and wanted nothing but to be well instructed in the Christian\nreligion, and to be legally married; both which were happily brought\nabout afterwards by my means, or at least by the consequence of my\ncoming among them.\nHaving thus given an account of the colony in general, and pretty much\nof my five runagate Englishmen, I must say something of the Spaniards,\nwho were the main body of the family, and in whose story there are some\nincidents also remarkable enough.\nI had a great many discourses with them about their circumstances when\nthey were among the savages; they told me readily, that they had no\ninstances to give of their application or ingenuity in that country;\nthat they were a poor, miserable, dejected handful of people; that if\nmeans had been put into their hands, they had yet so abandoned\nthemselves to despair, and so sunk under the weight of their\nmisfortunes, that they thought of nothing but starving. One of them, a\ngrave and very sensible man, told me he was convinced they were in the\nwrong; that it was not the part of wise men to give up themselves to\ntheir misery, but always to take hold of the helps which reason offered,\nas well for present support, as for future deliverance; he told me that\ngrief was the most senseless insignificant passion in the world, for\nthat it regarded only things past, which were generally impossible to be\nrecalled or to be remedied, but had no view to things to come, and had\nno share in any thing that looked like deliverance, but rather added to\nthe affliction than proposed a remedy; and upon this he repeated a\nSpanish proverb, which though I cannot repeat in just the same words\nthat he spoke it, yet I remember I made it into an English proverb of my\nown, thus;\n     In trouble to be troubled,\n     Is to have your trouble doubled.\nHe then ran on in remarks upon all the little improvements I had made in\nmy solitude; my unwearied application, as he called it, and how I had\nmade a condition, which in its circumstances was at first much worse\nthan theirs, a thousand times more happy than theirs was, even now when\nthey were all together. He told me it was remarkable that Englishmen had\na greater presence of mind in their distress than any people that ever\nhe met with; that their unhappy nation, and the Portuguese, were the\nworst men in the world to struggle with misfortunes; for that their\nfirst step in dangers, after common efforts are over, was always to\ndespair, lie down under it and die, without rousing their thoughts up to\nproper remedies for escape.\nI told him their case and mine differed exceedingly; that they were cast\nupon the shore without necessaries, without supply of food, or of\npresent sustenance, till they could provide it; that it is true, I had\nthis disadvantage and discomfort, that I was alone; but then the\nsupplies I had providentially thrown into my hands, by the unexpected\ndriving of the ship on shore, was such a help as would have encouraged\nany creature in the world to have applied himself as I had done.\n\u201cSeignior,\u201d says the Spaniard, \u201chad we poor Spaniards been in your case\nwe should never have gotten half those things out of the ship as you\ndid.\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d says he, \u201cwe should never have found means to have gotten a\nraft to carry them, or to have gotten a raft on shore without boat or\nsail; and how much less should we have done,\u201d said he, \u201cif any of us had\nbeen alone!\u201d Well, I desired him to abate his compliment, and go on\nwith the history of their coming on shore, where they landed. He told me\nthey unhappily landed at a place where there were people without\nprovisions; whereas, had they had the common sense to have put off to\nsea again, and gone to another island a little farther, they had found\nprovisions though without people; there being an island that way, as\nthey had been told, where there were provisions though no people; that\nis to say, that the Spaniards of Trinidad had frequently been there, and\nfilled the island with goats and hogs at several times, where they have\nbred in such multitudes, and where turtle and sea-fowls were in such\nplenty, that they could have been in no want of flesh though they had\nfound no bread; whereas here they were only sustained with a few roots\nand herbs, which they understood not, and which had no substance in\nthem, and which the inhabitants gave them sparingly enough, and who\ncould treat them no better unless they would turn cannibals, and eat\nmen\u2019s flesh, which was the great dainty of the country.\nThey gave me an account how many ways they strove to civilize the\nsavages they were with, and to teach them rational customs in the\nordinary way of living, but in vain; and how they retorted it upon them\nas unjust, that they, who came thither for assistance and support,\nshould attempt to set up for instructors of those that gave them bread;\nintimating, it seems, that none should set up for the instructors of\nothers but those who could live without them.\nThey gave me dismal accounts of the extremities they were driven to; how\nsometimes they were many days without any food at all, the island they\nwere upon being inhabited by a sort of savages that lived more indolent,\nand for that reason were less supplied with the necessaries of life than\nthey had reason to believe others were in the same part of the world;\nand yet they found that these savages were less ravenous and voracious\nthan those who had better supplies of food.\nAlso they added, that they could not but see with what demonstrations\nof wisdom and goodness the governing providence of God directs the event\nof things in the world, which they said appeared in their circumstances;\nfor if, pressed by the hardships they were under, and the barrenness of\nthe country where they were, they had searched after a better place to\nlive in, they had then been out of the way of the relief that happened\nto them by my means.\nThen they gave me an account how the savages whom they lived among\nexpected them to go out with them into their wars; and it was true, that\nas they had fire-arms with them, had they not had the disaster to lose\ntheir ammunition, they should not have been serviceable only to their\nfriends, but have made themselves terrible both to friends and enemies;\nbut being without powder and shot, and in a condition that they could\nnot in reason deny to go out with their landlords to their wars; when\nthey came in the field of battle they were in a worse condition than the\nsavages themselves, for they neither had bows nor arrows, nor could they\nuse those the savages gave them, so that they could do nothing but stand\nstill and be wounded with arrows, till they came up to the teeth of\ntheir enemy; and then indeed the three halberts they had were of use to\nthem, and they would often drive a whole little army before them with\nthose halberts and sharpened sticks put into the muzzles of their\nmuskets: but that for all this, they were sometimes surrounded with\nmultitudes, and in great danger from their arrows; till at last they\nfound the way to make themselves large targets of wood, which they\ncovered with skins of wild beasts, whose names they knew not, and these\ncovered them from the arrows of the savages; that notwithstanding these,\nthey were sometimes in great danger, and were once five of them knocked\ndown together with the clubs of the savages, which was the time when one\nof them was taken prisoner, that is to say, the Spaniard whom I had\nrelieved; that at first they thought he had been killed, but when\nafterwards they heard he was taken prisoner, they were under the\ngreatest grief imaginable, and would willingly have all ventured their\nlives to have rescued him.\nThey told me, that when they were so knocked down, the rest of their\ncompany rescued them, and stood over them fighting till they were come\nto themselves, all but he who they thought had been dead; and then they\nmade their way with their halberts and pieces, standing close together\nin a line, through a body of above a thousand savages, beating down all\nthat came in their way, got the victory over their enemies, but to their\ngreat sorrow, because it was with the loss of their friend; whom the\nother party, finding him alive, carried off with some others, as I gave\nan account in my former.\nThey described, most affectionately, how they were surprised with joy at\nthe return of their friend and companion in misery, who they thought had\nbeen devoured by wild beasts of the worst kind, viz. by wild men; and\nyet how more and more they were surprised with the account he gave them\nof his errand, and that there was a Christian in a place near, much more\none that was able, and had humanity enough to contribute to their\ndeliverance.\nThey described how they were astonished at the sight of the relief I\nsent them, and at the appearance of loaves of bread, things they had not\nseen since their coming to that miserable place; how often they crossed\nit, and blessed it as bread sent from heaven; and what a reviving\ncordial it was to their spirits to taste it, as also of the other things\nI had sent for their supply. And, after all, they would have told me\nsomething of the joy they were in at the sight of a boat and pilots to\ncarry them away to the person and place from whence all these new\ncomforts came; but they told me it was impossible to express it by\nwords, for their excessive joy driving them to unbecoming\nextravagancies, they had no way to describe them but by telling me that\nthey bordered upon lunacy, having no way to give vent to their passion\nsuitable to the sense that was upon them; that in some it worked one\nway, and in some another; and that some of them, through a surprise of\njoy, would burst out into tears; others be half mad, and others\nimmediately faint. This discourse extremely affected me, and called to\nmy mind Friday\u2019s ecstasy when he met his father, and the poor people\u2019s\necstasy when I took them up at sea, after their ship was on fire; the\nmate of the ship\u2019s joy, when he found himself delivered in the place\nwhere he expected to perish; and my own joy, when after twenty-eight\nyears captivity I found a good ship ready to carry me to my own country.\nAll these things made me more sensible of the relation of these poor\nmen, and more affected with it.\nHaving thus given a view of the state of things as I found them, I must\nrelate the heads of what I did for these people, and the condition in\nwhich I left them. It was their opinion, and mine too, that they would\nbe troubled no more with the savages; or that, if they were, they would\nbe able to cut them off, if they were twice as many as before; so that\nthey had no concern about that. Then I entered into a serious discourse\nwith the Spaniard whom I called governor, about their stay in the\nisland; for as I was not come to carry any of them off, so it would not\nbe just to carry off some and leave others, who perhaps would be\nunwilling to stay if their strength was diminished.\nOn the other hand I told them, I came to establish them there, not to\nremove them; and then I let them know that I had brought with me relief\nof sundry kinds for them; that I had been at a great charge to supply\nthem with all things necessary, as well for their convenience as their\ndefence; and that I had such particular persons with me, as well to\nincrease and recruit their number, as by the particular necessary\nemployments which they were bred to, being artificers, to assist them in\nthose things in which at present they were to seek.\nThey were all together when I talked thus to them; and before I\ndelivered to them the stores I had brought, I asked them, one by one, if\nthey had entirely forgot and buried the first animosities that had been\namong them, and could shake hands with one another, and engage in a\nstrict friendship and union of interest, so that there might be no more\nmisunderstandings or jealousies.\nWilliam Atkins, with abundance of frankness and good humour, said, they\nhad met with afflictions enough to make them all sober, and enemies\nenough to make them all friends: that for his part he would live and die\nwith them; and was so far from designing any thing against the\nSpaniards, that he owned they had done nothing to him but what his own\nbad humour made necessary, and what he would have done, and perhaps much\nworse, in their case; and that he would ask them pardon, if I desired\nit, for the foolish and brutish things he had done to them; and was very\nwilling and desirous of living on terms of entire friendship and union\nwith them; and would do any thing that lay in his power, to convince\nthem of it: and as for going to England, he cared not if he did not go\nthither these twenty years.\nThe Spaniards said, they had indeed at first disarmed and excluded\nWilliam Atkins and his two countrymen, for their ill conduct, as they\nhad let me know; and they appealed to me for the necessity they were\nunder to do so; but that William Atkins had behaved himself so bravely\nin the great fight they had with the savages, and on several occasions\nsince, and had shewed himself so faithful to, and concerned for the\ngeneral interest of them all, that they had forgotten all that was past,\nand thought he merited as much to be trusted with arms, and supplied\nwith necessaries, as any of them; and that they had testified their\nsatisfaction in him, by committing the command to him, next to the\ngovernor himself; and as they had an entire confidence in him and all\nhis countrymen, so they acknowledged they had merited that confidence by\nall the methods that honest men could merit to be valued and trusted;\nand they most heartily embraced the occasion of giving me this\nassurance, that they would never have any interest separate from\none another.\nUpon these frank and open declarations of friendship, we appointed the\nnext day to dine all together, and indeed we made a splendid feast. I\ncaused the ship\u2019s cook and his mate to come on shore and dress our\ndinner, and the old cook\u2019s mate we had on shore assisted. We brought on\nshore six pieces of good beef, and four pieces of pork, out of the\nship\u2019s provision, with our punch-bowl, and materials to fill it; and, in\nparticular, I gave them ten bottles of French claret, and ten bottles of\nEnglish beer, things that neither the Spaniards nor the Englishmen had\ntasted for many years; and which it may be supposed they were\nexceeding glad of.\nThe Spaniards added to our feast five whole kids, which the cooks\nroasted; and three of them were sent, covered up close, on board our\nship to the seamen, that they might feast on fresh meat from on shore,\nas we did with their salt meal from on board.\nAfter this feast, at which we were very innocently merry, I brought out\nmy cargo of goods, wherein, that there might be no dispute about\ndividing, I shewed them that there was sufficient for them all; and\ndesired that they might all take an equal quantity of the goods that\nwere for wearing; that is to say, equal when made up. As first, I\ndistributed linen sufficient to make every one of them four shirts; and,\nat the Spaniards\u2019 request, afterwards made them up six; these were\nexceeding comfortable to them, having been what, as I may say, they had\nlong since forgot the use of, or what it was to wear them.\nI allotted the thin English stuffs, which I mentioned before, to make\nevery one a light coat like a frock, which I judged fittest for the heat\nof the season, cool and loose; and ordered, that whenever they decayed,\nthey should make more, as they thought fit. The like for pumps, shoes,\nstockings, and hats, &c.\nI cannot express what pleasure, what satisfaction, sat upon the\ncountenances of all these poor men when they saw the care I had taken of\nthem, and how well I had furnished them; they told me I was a father to\nthem; and that having such a correspondent as I was, in so remote a part\nof the world, it would make them forget that they were left in a\ndesolate place; and they all voluntarily engaged to me not to leave the\nplace without my consent.\nThen I presented to them the people I had brought with me, particularly\nthe tailor, the smith, and the two carpenters, all of them most\nnecessary people; but above all, my general artificer, than whom they\ncould not name any thing that was more needful to them; and the tailor,\nto shew his concern for them, went to work immediately, and, with my\nleave, made them every one a shirt the first thing he did; and, which\nwas still more, he taught the women not only how to sew and stitch, and\nuse the needle, but made them assist to make the shirts for their\nhusbands and for all the rest.\nAs for the carpenters, I scarce need mention how useful they were, for\nthey took in pieces all my clumsy unhandy things, and made them clever\nconvenient tables, stools, bedsteads, cupboards, lockers, shelves, and\nevery thing they wanted of that kind.\nBut to let them see how nature made artificers at first, I carried the\ncarpenters to see William Atkins\u2019s basket house, as I called it, and\nthey both owned they never saw an instance of such natural ingenuity\nbefore, nor any thing so regular and so handily built, at least of its\nkind; and one of them, when he saw it, after musing a good while,\nturning about to me, \u201cI am sure,\u201d says he, \u201cthat man has no need of us;\nyou need do nothing but give him tools.\u201d\nThen I brought them out all my store of tools, and gave every man a\ndigging spade, a shovel, and a rake, for we had no harrows or ploughs;\nand to every separate place a pickaxe, a crow, a broadaxe, and a saw;\nalways appointing, that as often as any were broken, or worn out, they\nshould be supplied, without grudging, out of the general stores that I\nleft behind.\nNails, staples, hinges, hammers, chisels, knives, scissors, and all\nsorts of tools and iron-work, they had without tale as they required;\nfor no man would care to take more than he wanted, and he must be a fool\nthat would waste or spoil them on any account whatever. And for the use\nof the smith I left two tons of unwrought iron for a supply.\nMy magazine of powder and arms which I brought them, was such, even to\nprofusion, that they could not but rejoice at them; for now they could\nmarch, as I used to do, with a musket upon each shoulder, if there was\noccasion; and were able to fight a thousand savages, if they had but\nsome little advantages of situation, which also they could not miss of\nif they had occasion.\nI carried on shore with me the young man whose mother was starved to\ndeath, and the maid also: she was a sober, well-educated, religious\nyoung woman, and behaved so inoffensively, that every one gave her a\ngood word. She had, indeed, an unhappy life with us, there being no\nwoman in the ship but herself; but she bore it with patience. After a\nwhile, seeing things so well ordered, and in so fine a way of thriving\nupon my island, and considering that they had neither business nor\nacquaintance in the East Indies, or reason for taking so long a voyage;\nI say, considering all this, both of them came to me, and desired I\nwould give them leave to remain on the island, and be entered among my\nfamily, as they called it.\nI agreed to it readily, and they had a little plot of ground allotted to\nthem, where they had three tents or houses set up, surrounded with a\nbasket-work, palisaded like Atkins\u2019s, and adjoining to his plantation.\nTheir tents were contrived so, that they had each of them a room, a part\nto lodge in, and a middle tent, like a great storehouse, to lay all\ntheir goods in, and to eat and drink in. And now the other two\nEnglishmen moved their habitation to the same place, and so the island\nwas divided into three colonies, and no more; viz. the Spaniards, with\nold Friday, and the first servants, at my old habitation under the hill,\nwhich was, in a word, the capital city, and where they had so enlarged\nand extended their works, as well under as on the outside of the hill,\nthat they lived, though perfectly concealed, yet full at large. Never\nwas there such a little city in a wood, and so hid, I believe, in any\npart of the world; for I verily believe a thousand men might have ranged\nthe island a month, and if they had not known there was such a thing,\nand looked on purpose for it, they would not have found it; for the\ntrees stood so thick and so close, and grew so fast matted into one\nanother, that nothing but cutting them down first, could discover the\nplace, except the two narrow entrances where they went in and out, could\nbe found, which was not very easy. One of them was just down at the\nwater\u2019s edge, on the side of the creek; and it was afterwards above two\nhundred yards to the place; and the other was up the ladder at twice, as\nI have already formerly described it; and they had a large wood, thick\nplanted, also on the top of the hill, which contained above an acre,\nwhich grew apace, and covered the place from all discovery there, with\nonly one narrow place between two trees, not easy to be discovered, to\nenter on that side.\nThe other colony was that of Will Atkins, where there were four families\nof Englishmen, I mean those I had left there, with their wives and\nchildren; three savages that were slaves; the widow and children of the\nEnglishman that was killed; the young man and the maid; and by the way,\nwe made a wife of her also before we went away. There were also the two\ncarpenters and the tailor, whom I brought with me for them; also the\nsmith, who was a very necessary man to them, especially as the gunsmith,\nto take care of their arms; and my other man, whom I called Jack of all\nTrades, who was himself as good almost as twenty men, for he was not\nonly a very ingenious fellow, but a very merry fellow; and before I went\naway we married him to the honest maid that came with the youth in the\nship, whom I mentioned before.\nAnd now I speak of marrying, it brings me naturally to say something of\nthe French ecclesiastic that I had brought with me out of the ship\u2019s\ncrew whom I took at sea. It is true, this man was a Roman, and perhaps\nit may give offence to some hereafter, if I leave any thing\nextraordinary upon record of a man, whom, before I begin, I must (to set\nhim out in just colours) represent in terms very much to his\ndisadvantage in the account of Protestants; as, first, that he was a\nPapist; secondly, a Popish priest; and thirdly, a French Popish priest.\nBut justice demands of me to give him a due character; and I must say,\nhe was a grave, sober, pious, and most religious person; exact in his\nlife, extensive in his charity, and exemplary in almost every thing he\ndid. What then can any one say against my being very sensible of the\nvalue of such a man, notwithstanding his profession? though it may be my\nopinion, perhaps as well as the opinion of others who shall read this,\nthat he was mistaken.\nThe first hour that I began to converse with him, after he had agreed to\ngo with me to the East Indies, I found reason to delight exceedingly in\nhis conversation; and he first began with me about religion, in the most\nobliging manner imaginable.\n\u201cSir,\u201d says he, \u201cyou have not only, under God\u201d (and at that he crossed\nhis breast), \u201csaved my life, but you have admitted me to go this voyage\nin your ship, and by your obliging civility have taken me into your\nfamily, giving me an opportunity of free conversation. Now, Sir,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cyou see by my habit what my profession is, and I guess by your\nnation what yours is. I may think it is my duty, and doubtless it is so,\nto use my utmost endeavours on all occasions to bring all the souls that\nI can to the knowledge of the truth, and to embrace the Catholic\ndoctrine; but as I am here under your permission, and in your family, I\nam bound in justice to your kindness, as well as in decency and good\nmanners, to be under your government; and therefore I shall not, without\nyour leave, enter into any debates on the points of religion, in which\nwe may not agree, farther than you shall give me leave.\u201d\nI told him his carriage was so modest that I could not but acknowledge\nit; that it was true, we were such people as they call heretics, but\nthat he was not the first Catholic that I had conversed with without\nfalling into any inconveniencies, or carrying the questions to any\nheight in debate; that he should not find himself the worse used for\nbeing of a different opinion from us; and if we did not converse without\nany dislike on either side, upon that score, it would be his fault,\nnot ours.\nHe replied, that he thought our conversation might be easily separated\nfrom disputes; that it was not his business to cap principles with every\nman he discoursed with; and that he rather desired me to converse with\nhim as a _gentleman_ than as a _religieux_; that if I would give him\nleave at any time to discourse upon religious subjects, he would readily\ncomply with it; and that then he did not doubt but I would allow him\nalso to defend his own opinions as well as he could; but that without my\nleave he would not break in upon me with any such thing.\nHe told me farther, that he would not cease to do all that became him in\nhis office as a priest, as well as a private Christian, to procure the\ngood of the ship, and the safety of all that was in her; and though\nperhaps we would not join with him, and he could not pray with us, he\nhoped he might pray for us, which he would do upon all occasions. In\nthis manner we conversed; and as he was of a most obliging\ngentleman-like behaviour, so he was, if I may be allowed to say so, a\nman of good sense, and, as I believe, of great learning.\nHe gave me a most diverting account of his life, and of the many\nextraordinary events of it; of many adventures which had befallen him in\nthe few years that he had been abroad in the world, and particularly\nthis was very remarkable; viz. that during the voyage he was now engaged\nin he had the misfortune to be five times shipped and unshipped, and\nnever to go to the place whither any of the ships he was in were at\nfirst designed: that his first intent was to have gone to Martinico, and\nthat he went on board a ship bound thither at St. Maloes; but being\nforced into Lisbon in bad weather, the ship received some damage by\nrunning aground in the mouth of the river Tagus, and was obliged to\nunload her cargo there: that finding a Portuguese ship there, bound to\nthe Madeiras, and ready to sail, and supposing he should easily meet\nwith a vessel there bound to Martinico, he went on board in order to\nsail to the Madeiras; but the master of the Portuguese ship being but an\nindifferent mariner, had been out in his reckoning, and they drove to\nFyal; where, however, he happened to find a very good market for his\ncargo, which was corn, and therefore resolved not to go to the Madeiras,\nbut to load salt at the isle of May, to go away to Newfoundland. He had\nno remedy in the exigence but to go with the ship, and had a pretty good\nvoyage as far as the Banks, (so they call the place where they catch the\nfish) where meeting with a French ship bound from France to Quebec, in\nthe river of Canada, and from thence to Martinico, to carry provisions,\nhe thought he should have an opportunity to complete his first design.\nBut when he came to Quebec the master of the ship died, and the ship\nproceeded no farther. So the next voyage he shipped himself for France,\nin the ship that was burnt, when we took them up at sea, and then\nshipped them with us for the East Indies, as I have already said. Thus\nhe had been disappointed in five voyages, all, as I may call it, in one\nvoyage, besides what I shall have occasion to mention farther of the\nsame person.\nBut I shall not make digressions into other men\u2019s stories which have no\nrelation to my own. I return to what concerns our affair in the island.\nHe came to me one morning, for he lodged among us all the while we were\nupon the island, and it happened to be just when I was going to visit\nthe Englishmen\u2019s colony at the farthest part of the island; I say, he\ncame to me, and told me with a very grave countenance, that he had for\ntwo or three days desired an opportunity of some discourse with me,\nwhich he hoped would not be displeasing to me, because he thought it\nmight in some measure correspond with my general design, which was the\nprosperity of my new colony, and perhaps might put it at least more than\nhe yet thought it was in the way of God\u2019s blessing.\nI looked a little surprised at the last part of his discourse, and\nturning a little short, \u201cHow, Sir,\u201d said I, \u201ccan it be said, that we are\nnot in the way of God\u2019s blessing, after such visible assistances and\nwonderful deliverances as we have seen here, and of which I have given\nyou a large account?\u201d\n\u201cIf you had pleased, Sir,\u201d said he, with a world of modesty, and yet\nwith great readiness, \u201cto have heard me, you would have found no room to\nhave been displeased, much less to think so hard of me, that I should\nsuggest, that you have not had wonderful assistances and deliverances;\nand I hope, on your behalf, that you are in the way of God\u2019s blessing,\nand your design is exceeding good, and will prosper. But, Sir,\u201d said he,\n\u201cthough it were more so than is even possible to you, yet there may be\nsome among you that are not equally right in their actions; and you know\nthat in the story of Israel, one Achan, in the camp, removed God\u2019s\nblessing from them, and turned his hand so against them, that thirty-six\nof them, though not concerned in the crime, were the objects of divine\nvengeance, and bore the weight of that punishment.\u201d\nI was sensibly touched with this discourse, and told him his inference\nwas so just, and the whole design seemed so sincere, and was really so\nreligious in its own nature, that I was very sorry I had interrupted\nhim, and begged him to go on; and in the meantime, because it seemed\nthat what we had both to say might take up some time, I told him I was\ngoing to the Englishmens\u2019 plantation, and asked him to go with me, and\nwe might discourse of it by the way. He told me he would more willingly\nwait on me thither, because there, partly, the thing was acted which he\ndesired to speak to me about. So we walked on, and I pressed him to be\nfree and plain with me in what he had to say.\n\u201cWhy then, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cbe pleased to give me leave to lay down a few\npropositions as the foundation of what I have to say, that we may not\ndiffer in the general principles, though we may be of some differing\nopinions in the practice of particulars. First, Sir, though we differ in\nsome of the doctrinal articles of religion, and it is very unhappy that\nit is so, especially in the case before us, as I shall shew afterwards,\nyet there are some general principles in which we both agree; viz.\nfirst, that there is a God, and that this God, having given us some\nstated general rules for our service and obedience, we ought not\nwillingly and knowingly to offend him, either by neglecting to do what\nhe has commanded, or by doing what he has expressly forbidden; and let\nour different religions be what they will, this general principle is\nreadily owned by us all, that the blessing of God does not ordinarily\nfollow a presumptuous sinning against his command; and every good\nChristian will be affectionately concerned to prevent any that are under\nhis care, living in a total neglect of God and his commands. It is not\nyour men being Protestants, whatever my opinion may be of such, that\ndischarges me from being concerned for their souls, and from\nendeavouring, if it lies before me, that they should live in as little\ndistance from and enmity with their Maker as possible; especially if you\ngive me leave to meddle so far in your circuit.\u201d\nI could not yet imagine, what he aimed at, and told him I granted all\nhe had said; and thanked him that he would so far concern himself for\nus; and begged he would explain the particulars of what he had observed,\nthat, like Joshua, (to take his own parable) I might put away the\naccursed thing from us.\n\u201cWhy then, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cI will take the liberty you give me; and\nthere are three things which, if I am right, must stand in the way of\nGod\u2019s blessing upon your endeavours here, and which I should rejoice,\nfor your sake, and their own, to see removed. And, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cI\npromise myself that you will fully agree with me in them all as soon as\nI name them; especially because I shall convince you that every one of\nthem may with great ease, and very much to your satisfaction, be\nremedied.\u201d\nHe gave me no leave to put in any more civilities, but went on: \u201cFirst,\nSir,\u201d says he, \u201cyou have here four Englishmen, who have fetched women\nfrom among the savages, and have taken them as their wives, and have had\nmany children by them all, and yet are not married to them after any\nstated legal manner, as the laws of God and man require; and therefore\nare yet, in the sense of both, no less than adulterers, and living in\nadultery. To this, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cI know you will object, that there\nwas no clergyman or priest of any kind, or of any profession, to perform\nthe ceremony; nor any pen and ink, or paper, to write down a contract of\nmarriage, and have it signed between them. And I know also, Sir, what\nthe Spaniard governor has told you; I mean of the agreement that he\nobliged them to make when they took these women, viz. that they should\nchoose them out by consent, and keep separately to them; which, by the\nway, is nothing of a marriage, no agreement with the women as wives, but\nonly an agreement among themselves, to keep them from quarrelling.\n\u201cBut, Sir, the essence of the sacrament of matrimony (so he called it,\nbeing a Roman) consists not only in the mutual consent of the parties to\ntake one another as man and wife, but in the formal and legal\nobligation that there is in the contract to compel the man and woman at\nall times to own and acknowledge each other; obliging the man to abstain\nfrom all other women, to engage in no other contract while these\nsubsist; and on all occasions, as ability allows, to provide honestly\nfor them and their children; and to oblige the women to the same, on\nlike conditions, _mutatis mutandis_, on their side.\n\u201cNow, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cthese men may, when they please, or when occasion\npresents, abandon these women, disown their children, leave them to\nperish, and take other women and marry them whilst these are living.\u201d\nAnd here he added, with some warmth, \u201cHow, Sir, is God honoured in this\nunlawful liberty? And how shall a blessing succeed your endeavours in\nthis place, however good in themselves, and however sincere in your\ndesign, while these men, who at present are your subjects, under your\nabsolute government and dominion, are allowed by you to live in open\nadultery?\u201d\nI confess I was struck at the thing itself, but much more with the\nconvincing arguments he supported it with. For it was certainly true,\nthat though they had no clergyman on the spot, yet a formal contract on\nboth sides, made before witnesses, and confirmed by any token which they\nhad all agreed to be bound by, though it had been but the breaking a\nstick between them, engaging the men to own these women for their wives\nupon all occasions, and never to abandon them or their children, and the\nwomen to the same with their husbands, had been an effectual lawful\nmarriage in the sight of God, and it was a great neglect that it was\nnot done.\nBut I thought to have gotten off with my young priest by telling him,\nthat all that part was done when I was not here; and they had lived so\nmany years with them now, that if it was adultery it was past remedy,\nthey could do nothing in it now.\n\u201cSir,\u201d says he, \u201casking your pardon for such freedom, you are right in\nthis; that it being done in your absence, you could not be charged with\nthat part of the crime. But I beseech you, matter not yourself that you\nare not therefore under an obligation to do your uttermost now to put an\nend to it. How can you think, but that, let the time past lie on whom it\nwill, all the guilt for the future will lie entirely upon you? Because\nit is certainly in your power now to put an end to it, and in nobody\u2019s\npower but yours.\u201d\nI was so dull still, that I did not take him right, but I imagined that\nby putting an end to it he meant that I should part them, and not suffer\nthem to live together any longer; and I said to him I could not do that\nby any means, for that it would put the whole island in confusion. He\nseemed surprised that I should so far mistake him. \u201cNo, Sir,\u201d says he,\n\u201cI do not mean that you should separate them, but legally and\neffectually marry them now. And, Sir, as my way of marrying may not be\nso easy to reconcile them to, though it will be as effectual even by\nyour own laws; so your way may be as well before God, and as valid among\nmen; I mean by a written contract signed by both man and woman, and by\nall the witnesses present; which all the laws of Europe would decree to\nbe valid.\u201d\nI was amazed to see so much true piety, and so much sincerity of zeal,\nbesides the unusual impartiality in his discourse, as to his own party\nor church, and such a true warmth for the preserving people that he had\nno knowledge of or relation to; I say, for preserving them from\ntransgressing the laws of God; the like of which I had indeed not met\nwith any where. But recollecting what he had said of marrying them by a\nwritten contract, which I knew would stand too, I returned it back upon\nhim, and told him I granted all that he had said to be just, and on his\npart very kind; that I would discourse with the men upon the point now\nwhen I came to them. And I knew no reason why they should scruple to let\nhim marry them all; which I knew well enough would be granted to be as\nauthentic and valid in England as if they were married by one of our own\nclergymen. What was afterwards done in this matter I shall speak of\nby itself.\nI then pressed him to tell me what was the second complaint which he had\nto make, acknowledging I was very much his debtor for the first, and\nthanked him heartily for it. He told me he would use the same freedom\nand plainness in the second, and hoped I would take it as well; and this\nwas, that notwithstanding these English subjects of mine, as he called\nthem, had lived with these women for almost seven years, and had taught\nthem to speak English, and even to read it, and that they were, as he\nperceived, women of tolerable understanding and capable of instruction;\nyet they had not, to this hour taught them any thing of the Christian\nreligion; no not so much as to know that there was a God, or a worship,\nor in what manner God was to be served; or that their own idolatry, and\nworshipping they knew not who, was false and absurd.\nThis, he said, was an unaccountable neglect, and what God would\ncertainly call them to an account for; and perhaps at last take the work\nout of their hands. He spoke this very affectionately and warmly. \u201cI am\npersuaded,\u201d says he, \u201chad those men lived in the savage country whence\ntheir wives came, the savages would have taken more pains to have\nbrought them to be idolaters, and to worship the devil, than any of\nthese men, so far as I can see, has taken with them to teach them the\nknowledge of the true God. Now, Sir,\u201d said he, \u201cthough I do not\nacknowledge your religion, or you mine, yet we should be all glad to see\nthe devil\u2019s servants, and the subjects of his kingdom, taught to know\nthe general principles of the Christian religion; that they might at\nleast hear of God, and of a Redeemer, and of the resurrection, and of a\nfuture state, things which we all believe; they had at least been so\nmuch nearer coming into the bosom of the true church, than they are now\nin the public profession of idolatry and devil-worship.\u201d\nI could hold no longer; I took him in my arms, and embraced him with an\nexcess of passion. \u201cHow far,\u201d said I to him, \u201chave I been from\nunderstanding the most essential part of a Christian, viz. to love the\ninterest of the Christian church, and the good of other men\u2019s souls! I\nscarce have known what belongs to being a Christian.\u201d\u2014\u201cO, Sir, do not\nsay so,\u201d replied he; \u201cthis thing is not your fault.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo,\u201d said I; \u201cbut\nwhy did I never lay it to heart as well as you?\u201d\u2014\u201cIt is not too late\nyet,\u201d said he; \u201cbe not too forward to condemn yourself.\u201d\u2014\u201cBut what can\nbe done now?\u201d said I; \u201cyou see I am going away.\u201d\u2014\u201cWill you give me\nleave,\u201d said he, \u201cto talk with these poor men about it?\u201d\u2014\u201cYes, with all\nmy heart,\u201d said I, \u201cand I will oblige them to give heed to what you say\ntoo.\u201d\u2014\u201cAs to that,\u201d said he, \u201cwe must leave them to the mercy of\nChrist; but it is our business to assist them, encourage them, and\ninstruct them; and if you will give me leave, and God his blessing, I do\nnot doubt but the poor ignorant souls shall be brought home into the\ngreat circle of Christianity, if not into the particular faith that we\nall embrace; and that even while you stay here.\u201d Upon this I said, \u201cI\nshall not only give you leave, but give you a thousand thanks for it.\u201d\nWhat followed on this account I shall mention also again in its place.\nI now pressed him for the third article in which we were to blame. \u201cWhy\nreally,\u201d says he, \u201cit is of the same nature, and I will proceed (asking\nyour leave) with the same plainness as before; it is about your poor\nsavages yonder, who are, as I may say, your conquered subjects. It is a\nmaxim, Sir, that is, or ought to be received among all Christians, of\nwhat church, or pretended church soever, viz. that Christian knowledge\nought to be propagated by all possible means, and on all possible\noccasions. It is on this principle that our church sends missionaries\ninto Persia, India, and China; and that our clergy, even of the\nsuperior sort, willingly engage in the most hazardous voyages, and the\nmost dangerous residence among murderers and barbarians, to teach them\nthe knowledge of the true God, and to bring them over to embrace the\nChristian faith. Now, Sir, you have an opportunity here to have six or\nseven-and-thirty poor savages brought over from idolatry to the\nknowledge of God, their Maker and Redeemer, that I wonder how you can\npass by such an occasion of doing good, which is really worth the\nexpense of a man\u2019s whole life.\u201d\nI was now struck dumb indeed, and had not one word to say; I had here a\nspirit of true Christian zeal for God and religion before me, let his\nparticular principles be of what kind soever. As for me, I had not so\nmuch as entertained a thought of this in my heart before, and I believe\nshould not have thought of it; for I looked upon these savages as\nslaves, and people whom, had we any work for them to do, we would have\nused as such, or would have been glad to have transported them to any\nother part of the world; for our business was to get rid of them, and we\nwould all have been satisfied if they had been sent to any country, so\nthey had never seen their own. But to the case: I say I was confounded\nat his discourse, and knew not what answer to make him. He looked\nearnestly at me, seeing me in some disorder; \u201cSir,\u201d said he, \u201cI shall be\nvery sorry, if what I have said gives you any offence.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo, no,\u201d said\nI, \u201cI am offended with nobody but myself; but I am perfectly confounded,\nnot only to think that I should never take any notice of this before,\nbut with reflecting what notice I am able to take of it now. You know,\nSir,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat circumstances I am in; I am bound to the East\nIndies, in a ship freighted by merchants, and to whom it would be an\ninsufferable piece of injustice to detain their ship here, the men lying\nall this while at victuals and wages upon the owners\u2019 account. It is\ntrue, I agreed to be allowed twelve days here, and if I stay more I\nmust pay 32 sterling per diem demurrage; nor can I stay upon demurrage\nabove eight days more, and I have been here thirteen days already; so\nthat I am perfectly unable to engage in this work; unless I would suffer\nmyself to be left behind here again; in which case, if this single ship\nshould miscarry in any part of her voyage, I should be just in the same\ncondition that I was left in here at first, and from which I have been\nso wonderfully delivered.\u201d\nHe owned the case was very hard upon me as to my voyage, but laid it\nhome upon my conscience, whether the blessing of saving seven-and-thirty\nsouls was not worth my venturing all I had in the world for. I was not\nso sensible of that as he was, and I returned upon him thus: \u201cWhy, Sir,\nit is a valuable thing indeed to be an instrument in God\u2019s hand to\nconvert seven-and-thirty heathens to the knowledge of Christ: but as you\nare an ecclesiastic, and are given over to that work, so that it seems\nnaturally to fall into the way of your profession, how is it then that\nyou do not rather offer yourself to undertake it, than press me to it!\u201d\nUpon this he faced about, just before me, as he walked along, and\npulling me to a full stop, made me a very low bow: \u201cI most heartily\nthank God, and you, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cfor giving me so evident a call to\nso blessed a work; and if you think yourself discharged from it, and\ndesire me to undertake it, I will most readily do it, and think it a\nhappy reward for all of the hazards and difficulties of such a broken\ndisappointed voyage as I have met with, that I have dropped at last into\nso glorious a work.\u201d\nI discovered a kind of rapture in his face while he spoke this to me;\nhis eyes sparkled like fire, his face bowed, and his colour came and\nwent as if he had been falling into fits; in a word, he was tired with\nthe agony of being embarked in such a work. I paused a considerable\nwhile before I could tell what to say to him, for I was really surprised\nto find a man of such sincerity and zeal, and carried out in his zeal\nbeyond the ordinary rate of men, not of his profession only, but even of\nany profession whatsoever. But after I had considered it awhile, I asked\nhim seriously if he was in earnest, and that he would venture on the\nsingle consideration of an attempt on those poor people, to be locked up\nin an unplanted island for perhaps his life, and at last might not know\nwhether he should be able to do them any good or not?\nHe turned short upon me, and asked me what I called a venture? \u201cPray,\nSir,\u201d said he, \u201cwhat do you think I consented to go in your ship to the\nEast Indies for?\u201d\u2014\u201cNay,\u201d said I, \u201cthat I know not, unless it was to\npreach to the Indians.\u201d\u2014\u201cDoubtless it was,\u201d said he; \u201cand do you think\nif I can convert these seven-and-thirty men to the faith of Christ, it\nis not worth my time, though I should never be fetched off the island\nagain? Nay, is it not infinitely of more worth to save so many souls\nthan my life is, or the life of twenty more of the same profession? Yes,\nSir,\u201d says he, \u201cI would give Christ and the Blessed Virgin thanks all my\ndays, if I could be made the least happy instrument of saving the souls\nof these poor men though I was never to set my foot off this island, or\nsee my native country any more. But since you will honour me,\u201d says he,\n\u201cwith putting me into this work, (for which I will pray for you all the\ndays of my life) I have one humble petition to you,\u201d said he\n\u201cbesides.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhat is that?\u201d said I. \u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201cit is, that you\nwill leave your man Friday with me, to be my interpreter to them, and to\nassist me for without some help I cannot speak to them, or they to me.\u201d\nI was sensibly troubled at his requesting Friday, because I could not\nthink of parting with him, and that for many reasons. He had been the\ncompanion of my travels; he was not only faithful to me, but sincerely\naffectionate to the last degree; and I had resolved to do something\nconsiderable for him if he out-lived me, as it was probable he would.\nThen I knew that as I had bred Friday up to be a Protestant, it would\nquite confound him to bring him to embrace another profession; and he\nwould never, while his eyes were open, believe that his old master was a\nheretic, and would be damned; and this might in the end ruin the poor\nfellow\u2019s principles, and so turn him back again to his first idolatry.\nHowever, a sudden thought relieved me in this strait, and it was this: I\ntold him I could not say that I was willing to part with Friday on any\naccount whatever; though a work that to him was of more value than his\nlife, ought to me to be of much more value than the keeping or parting\nwith a servant. But on the other hand, I was persuaded, that Friday\nwould by no means consent to part with me; and then to force him to it\nwithout his consent would be manifest injustice, because I had promised\nI would never put him away, and he had promised and engaged to me that\nhe would never leave me unless I put him away.\nHe seemed very much concerned at it; for he had no rational access to\nthese poor people, seeing he did not understand one word of their\nlanguage, nor they one word of his. To remove this difficulty, I told\nhim Friday\u2019s father had learnt Spanish, which I found he also\nunderstood, and he should serve him for an interpreter; so he was much\nbetter satisfied, and nothing could persuade him but he would stay to\nendeavour to convert them; but Providence gave another and very happy\nturn to all this.\nI come back now to the first part of his objections. When we came to the\nEnglishmen I sent for them all together; and after some accounts given\nthem of what I had done for them, viz. what necessary things I had\nprovided for them, and how they were distributed, which they were\nsensible of, and very thankful for; I began to talk to them of the\nscandalous life they led, and gave them a full account of the notice the\nclergyman had already taken of it; and arguing how unchristian and\nirreligious a life it was, I first asked them if they were married men\nor bachelors? They soon explained their condition to me, and shewed me\nthat two of them were widowers, and the other three were single men or\nbachelors. I asked them with what conscience they could take these\nwomen, and lie with them as they had done, call them their wives, and\nhave so many children by them, and not be married lawfully to them?\nThey all gave me the answer that I expected, viz. that there was nobody\nto marry them; that they agreed before the governor to keep them as\ntheir wives; and to keep them and own them as their wives; and they\nthought, as things stood with them, they were as legally married as if\nthey had been married by a parson, and with all the formalities in\nthe world.\nI told them that no doubt they were married in the sight of God, and\nwere bound in conscience to keep them as their wives; but that the laws\nof men being otherwise, they might pretend they were not married, and so\ndesert the poor women and children hereafter; and that their wives,\nbeing poor, desolate women, friendless and moneyless, would have no way\nto help themselves: I therefore told them, that unless I was assured of\ntheir honest intent, I could do nothing for them; but would take care\nthat what I did should be for the women and children without them; and\nthat unless they would give some assurances that they would marry the\nwomen, I could not think it was convenient they should continue together\nas man and wife; for that it was both scandalous to men and offensive to\nGod, who they could not think would bless them if they went on thus.\nAll this passed as I expected; and they told me, especially Will Atkins,\nwho seemed now to speak for the rest, that they loved their wives as\nwell as if they had been born in their own native country, and would not\nleave them upon any account whatever; and they did verily believe their\nwives were as virtuous and as modest, and did to the utmost of their\nskill as much for them and for their children as any women could\npossibly do, and they would not part with them on any account: and Will\nAtkins for his own particular added, if any man would take him away, and\noffer to carry him home to England, and to make him captain of the best\nman of war in the navy, he would not go with him if he might not carry\nhis wife and children with him; and if there was a clergyman in the\nship, he would be married to her now with all his heart.\nThis was just as I would have it. The priest was not with me at that\nmoment, but was not far off. So to try him farther, I told him I had a\nclergyman with me, and if he was sincere I would have him married the\nnext morning, and bade him consider of it, and talk with the rest. He\nsaid, as for himself, he need not consider of it at all, for he was very\nready to do it, and was glad I had a minister with me; and he believed\nthey would be all willing also. I then told him that my friend the\nminister was a Frenchman, and could not speak English, but that I would\nact the clerk between them. He never so much as asked me whether he was\na Papist or Protestant, which was indeed what I was afraid of. But I say\nthey never inquired about it. So we parted; I went back to my clergyman,\nand Will Atkins went in to talk with his companions. I desired the\nFrench gentleman not to say any thing to them till the business was\nthorough ripe, and I told him what answer the men had given me.\nBefore I went from their quarter they all came to me, and told me, they\nhad been considering what I had said; that they were very glad to hear I\nhad a clergyman in my company; and they were very willing to give me the\nsatisfaction I desired, and to be formally married as soon as I pleased;\nfor they were far from desiring to part from their wives; and that they\nmeant nothing but what was very honest when they chose them. So I\nappointed them to meet me the next morning, and that in the mean time\nthey should let their wives know the meaning of the marriage law; and\nthat it was not only to prevent any scandal, but also to oblige them\nthat they should not forsake them, whatever might happen.\nThe women were easily made sensible of the meaning of the thing, and\nwere very well satisfied with it, as indeed they had reason to be; so\nthey failed not to attend all together at my apartment next morning,\nwhere I brought out my clergyman: and though he had not on a minister\u2019s\ngown, after the manner of England, or the habit of a priest, after the\nmanner of France; yet having a black vest, something like a cassock,\nwith a sash round it, he did not look very unlike a minister; and as for\nhis language I was interpreter.\nBut the seriousness of his behaviour to them, and the scruple he made of\nmarrying the women because they were not baptized, and professed\nChristians, gave them an exceeding reverence for his person; and there\nwas no need after that to inquire whether he was a clergyman or no.\nIndeed I was afraid his scruple would have been carried so far as that\nhe would not have married them at all: nay, notwithstanding all I was\nable to say to him, he resisted me, though modestly, yet very steadily;\nand at last refused absolutely to marry them, unless he had first talked\nwith the men and the women too; and though at first I was a little\nbackward to it, yet at last I agreed to it with a good will, perceiving\nthe sincerity of his design.\nWhen he came to them, he let them know that I had acquainted him with\ntheir circumstances, and with the present design; that he was very\nwilling to perform that part of his function, and marry them as I had\ndesired; but that before he could do it, he must take the liberty to\ntalk with them. He told them that in the sight of all different men, and\nin the sense of the laws of society, they had lived all this while in an\nopen adultery; and that it was true that nothing but the consenting to\nmarry, or effectually separating them from one another now, could put\nan end to it; but there was a difficulty in it too, with respect to the\nlaws of Christian matrimony, which he was not fully satisfied about,\nviz. that of marrying one that is a professed Christian to a savage, an\nidolater, and a heathen, one that is not baptized; and yet that he did\nnot see that there was time left for it to endeavour to persuade the\nwomen to be baptized, or to profess the name of Christ, whom they had,\nhe doubted, heard nothing of, and without which they could not\nbe baptized.\nHe told me he doubted they were but indifferent Christians themselves;\nthat they had but little knowledge of God or his ways, and therefore he\ncould not expect that they had said much to their wives on that head\nyet; but that unless they would promise him to use their endeavours with\ntheir wives to persuade them to become Christians, and would as well as\nthey could instruct them in the knowledge and belief of God that made\nthem, and to worship Jesus Christ that redeemed them, he could not marry\nthem; for he would have no hand in joining Christians with savages; nor\nwas it consistent with the principles of the Christian religion, and was\nindeed expressly forbidden in God\u2019s law.\nThey heard all this very attentively, and I delivered it very faithfully\nto them from his mouth, as near his own words as I could, only sometimes\nadding something of my own, to convince them how just it was, and how I\nwas of his mind: and I always very faithfully distinguished between what\nI said from myself and what were the clergyman\u2019s words. They told me it\nwas very true what the gentleman had said, that they were but very\nindifferent Christians themselves, and that they had never talked to\ntheir wives about religion.\u2014\u201cLord, Sir,\u201d says Will Atkins, \u201chow should\nwe teach them religion? Why, we know nothing ourselves; and besides,\nSir,\u201d said he, \u201cshould we go to talk to them of God, and Jesus Christ,\nand heaven and hell, it would be to make them laugh at us, and ask us\nwhat we believe ourselves? and if we should tell them we believe all\nthe things that we speak of to them, such as of good people going to\nheaven, and wicked people to the devil, they would ask us, where we\nintended to go ourselves who believe all this, and yet are such wicked\nfellows, as we indeed are: why, Sir,\u201d said Will, \u201c\u2019tis enough to give\nthem a surfeit of religion, at that hearing: folks must have some\nreligion themselves before they pretend to teach other people.\u201d\u2014\u201cWill\nAtkins,\u201d said I to him, \u201cthough I am afraid what you say has too much\ntruth in it, yet can you not tell your wife that she is in the wrong;\nthat there is a God, and a religion better than her own; that her gods\nare idols; that they can neither hear nor speak; that there is a great\nBeing that made all things, and that can destroy all that he has made;\nthat he rewards the good, and punishes the bad; that we are to be judged\nby him, at last, for all we do here? You are not so ignorant but even\nnature itself will teach you that all this is true; and I am satisfied\nyou know it all to be true, and believe it yourself.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true, Sir,\u201d said Atkins; \u201cbut with what face can I say any thing\nto my wife of all this, when she will tell me immediately it cannot\nbe true?\u201d\n\u201cNot true!\u201d said I; \u201cwhat do you mean by that?\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy, Sir,\u201d said he,\n\u201cshe will tell me it cannot be true: that this God (I shall tell her of)\ncan be just, or can punish or reward, since I am not punished and sent\nto the devil, that have been such a wicked creature as she knows I have\nbeen, even to her, and to every body else; and that I should be suffered\nto live, that have been always acting so contrary to what I must tell\nher is good, and to what I ought to have done.\u201d\n\u201cWhy truly, Atkins,\u201d said I, \u201cI am afraid thou speakest too much truth;\u201d\nand with that I let the clergyman know what Atkins had said, for he was\nimpatient to know. \u201cO!\u201d said the priest, \u201ctell him there is one thing\nwill make him the best minister in the world to his wife, and that is\nrepentance; for none teach repentance like true penitents. He wants\nnothing but to repent, and then he will be so much the better qualified\nto instruct his wife; he will then be able to tell her, that there is\nnot only a God, and that he is the just rewarder of good and evil; but\nthat he is a merciful Being, and, with infinite goodness and\nlong-suffering, forbears to punish those that offend; waiting to be\ngracious, and willing not the death of a sinner, but rather that he\nshould return and live; that he often suffers wicked men to go on a long\ntime, and even reserves damnation to the general day of retribution:\nthat it is a clear evidence of God, and of a future state, that\nrighteous men receive not their reward, or wicked men their punishment,\ntill they come into another world; and this will lend him to teach his\nwife the doctrine of the resurrection, and of the last judgment: let him\nbut repent for himself, he will be an excellent preacher of repentance\nto his wife.\u201d\nI repeated all this to Atkins, who looked very serious all the while,\nand who, we could easily perceive, was more than ordinarily affected\nwith it: when being eager, and hardly suffering me to make an end\u2014\u201cI\nknow all this, master,\u201d says he, \u201cand a great deal more; but I han\u2019t the\nimpudence to talk thus to my wife, when God and my own conscience knows,\nand my wife will be an undeniable evidence against me, that I have lived\nas if I never heard of God, or a future state, or any thing about it;\nand to talk of my repenting, alas! (and with that he fetched a deep\nsigh; and I could see that tears stood in his eyes,) \u2019tis past all that\nwith me.\u201d\u2014\u201cPast it, Atkins!\u201d said I; \u201cwhat dost thou mean by that?\u201d\u2014\u201cI\nknow well enough what I mean, Sir,\u201d says he; \u201cI mean \u2019tis too late; and\nthat is too true.\u201d\nI told my clergyman word for word what he said. The poor zealous priest\n(I must call him so; for, be his opinion what it will, he had certainly\na most singular affection for the good of other men\u2019s souls; and it\nwould be hard to think he had not the like for his own)\u2014I say, this\nzealous, affectionate man could not refrain tears also: but recovering\nhimself, he said to me, \u201cAsk him but one question: Is he easy that it is\ntoo late, or is he troubled, and wishes it were not so?\u201d I put the\nquestion fairly to Atkins; and he answered with a great deal of passion,\n\u201cHow could any man be easy in a condition that certainly must end in\neternal destruction?\u201d That he was far from being easy; but that, on the\ncontrary, he believed it would one time or the other ruin him.\n\u201cWhat do you mean by that?\u201d said I.\u2014\u201cWhy,\u201d he said, \u201che believed he\nshould, one time or another, cut his own throat to put an end to the\nterror of it.\u201d\nThe clergyman shook his head, with a great concern in his face, when I\ntold him all this; but turning quick to me upon it, said, \u201cIf that be\nhis case, you may assure him it is not too late; Christ will give him\nrepentance. But pray,\u201d says he, \u201cexplain this to him, that as no man is\nsaved but by Christ, and the merit of his passion, procuring divine\nmercy for him, how can it be too late for any man to receive mercy? Does\nhe think he is able to sin beyond the power or reach of divine mercy?\nPray tell him, there may be a time when provoked mercy will no longer\nstrive, and when God may refuse to hear; but that \u2019tis never too late\nfor men to ask mercy; and we that are Christ\u2019s servants are commanded to\npreach mercy at all times, in the name of Jesus Christ, to all those\nthat sincerely repent: so that \u2019tis never too late to repent.\u201d\nI told Atkins all this, and he heard me with great earnestness; but it\nseemed as if he turned off the discourse to the rest; for he said to me\nhe would go and have some talk with his wife: so he went out awhile, and\nwe talked to the rest. I perceived they were all stupidly ignorant as to\nmatters of religion; much as I was when I went rambling away from my\nfather; and yet that there were none of them backward to hear what had\nbeen said; and all of them seriously promised that they would talk with\ntheir wives about it, and do their endeavour to persuade them to turn\nChristians.\nThe clergyman smiled upon me when I reported what answer they gave, but\nsaid nothing a good while; but at last shaking his head, \u201cWe that are\nChrist\u2019s servants,\u201d says he, \u201ccan go no farther than to exhort and\ninstruct; and when men comply, submit to the reproof, and promise what\nwe ask, \u2019tis all we can do; we are bound to accept their good words; but\nbelieve me, Sir,\u201d said he, \u201cwhatever you may have known of the life of\nthat man you call William Atkins, I believe he is the only sincere\nconvert among them; I take that man to be a true penitent; I won\u2019t\ndespair of the rest; but that man is perfectly struck with the sense of\nhis past life; and I doubt not but when he comes to talk of religion to\nhis wife, he will talk himself effectually into it; for attempting to\nteach others is sometimes the best way of teaching ourselves. I knew a\nman,\u201d added he, \u201cwho having nothing but a summary notion of religion\nhimself, and being wicked and profligate to the last degree in his life,\nmade a thorough reformation in himself by labouring to convert a Jew:\nand if that poor Atkins begins but once to talk seriously of Jesus\nChrist to his wife, my life for it he talks himself into a thorough\nconvert, makes himself a penitent; and who knows what may follow?\u201d\nUpon this discourse, however, and their promising as above to endeavour\nto persuade their wives to embrace Christianity, he married the other\nthree couple; but Will Atkins and his wife were not yet come in. After\nthis, my clergyman waiting awhile, was curious to know where Atkins was\ngone; and turning to me, says he, \u201cI entreat you, Sir, let us walk out\nof your labyrinth here and look; I dare say we shall find this poor man\nsomewhere or other, talking seriously with his wife, and teaching her\nalready something of religion.\u201d I began to be of the same mind; so we\nwent out together, and I carried him a way which none knew but myself,\nand where the trees were so thick set, as that it was not easy to see\nthrough the thicket of leaves, and far harder to see in than to see\nout; when coming to the edge of the wood I saw Atkins, and his tawny\nsavage wife, sitting under the shade of a bush, very eager in discourse.\nI stopped short till my clergyman came up to me, and then having shewed\nhim where they were, we stood and looked very steadily at them a\ngood while.\nWe observed him very earnest with her, pointing up to the sun, and to\nevery quarter of the heavens; then down to the earth, then out to the\nsea, then to himself, then to her, to the woods, to the trees. \u201cNow,\u201d\nsays my clergyman, \u201cyou see my words are made good; the man preaches to\nher; mark him; now he is telling her that our God has made him, and her,\nand the heavens, the earth, the sea, the woods, the trees, &c.\u201d\u2014\u201cI\nbelieve he is,\u201d said I. Immediately we perceived Will Atkins start up\nupon his feet, fall down upon his knees, and lift up both his hands; we\nsupposed he said something, but we could not hear him; it was too far\noff for that: he did not continue kneeling half a minute, but comes and\nsits down again by his wife, and talks to her again. We perceived then\nthe woman very attentive, but whether she said any thing or no we could\nnot tell. While the poor fellow was upon his knees, I could see the\ntears run plentifully down my clergyman\u2019s cheeks; and I could hardly\nforbear myself; but it was a great affliction to us both, that we were\nnot near enough to hear any thing that passed between them.\nWell, however, we could come no nearer for fear of disturbing them; so\nwe resolved to see an end of this piece of still conversation, and it\nspoke loud enough to us without the help of voice. He sat down again, as\nI have said, close by her, and talked again earnestly to her, and two or\nthree times we could see him embrace her passionately; another time we\nsaw him take out his handkerchief and wipe her eyes, and then kiss her\nagain, with a kind of transport very unusual; and after several of these\nthings, we saw him on a sudden jump up again and lend her his hand to\nhelp her up, when immediately leading her by the hand a step or two,\nthey both kneeled down together, and continued so about two minutes.\nMy friend could bear it no longer, but cries out aloud, \u201cSt. Paul, St.\nPaul, behold he prayeth!\u201d\u2014I was afraid Atkins would hear him; therefore\nI entreated him to withhold himself awhile, that we might see an end of\nthe scene, which to me, I must confess, was the most affecting, and yet\nthe most agreeable, that ever I saw in my life. Well, he strove with\nhimself, and contained himself for awhile, but was in such raptures of\njoy to think that the poor heathen woman was become a Christian, that he\nwas not able to contain himself; he wept several times: then throwing up\nhis hands, and crossing his breast, said over several things\nejaculatory, and by way of giving God thanks for so miraculous a\ntestimony of the success of our endeavours: some he spoke softly, and I\ncould not well hear; others audibly; some in Latin, some in French; then\ntwo or three times the tears of joy would interrupt him, that he could\nnot speak at all. But I begged that he would compose himself, and let us\nmore narrowly and fully observe what was before us, which he did for a\ntime, and the scene was not ended there yet; for after the poor man and\nhis wife were risen again from their knees, we observed he stood talking\nstill eagerly to her; and we observed by her motion that she was greatly\naffected with what he said, by her frequent lifting up her hands, laying\nher hand to her breast, and such other postures as usually express the\ngreatest seriousness and attention. This continued about half a quarter\nof an hour, and then they walked away too; so that we could see no more\nof them in that situation.\nI took this interval to talk with my clergyman: and first I told him, I\nwas glad to see the particulars we had both been witnesses to; that\nthough I was hard enough of belief in such cases, yet that I began to\nthink it was all very sincere here, both in the man and his wife,\nhowever ignorant they both might be; and I hoped such a beginning would\nhave yet a more happy end: \u201cAnd who knows,\u201d said I, \u201cbut these two may\nin time, by instruction and example, work upon some of the\nothers?\u201d\u2014\u201cSome of them!\u201d said he, turning quick upon me, \u201cay, upon all\nof them: depend upon it, if those two savages (for _he_ has been but\nlittle better as you relate it) should embrace Jesus Christ, they will\nnever leave till they work upon all the rest; for true religion is\nnaturally communicative, and he that is once made a Christian will never\nleave a Pagan behind him if he can help it,\u201d I owned it was a most\nChristian principle to think so, and a testimony of a true zeal, as well\nas a generous heart in him. \u201cBut, my friend,\u201d said I, \u201cwill you give me\nliberty to start one difficulty here? I cannot tell how to object the\nleast thing against that affectionate concern which you shew for the\nturning the poor people from their Paganism to the Christian religion;\nbut how does this comfort you, while these people are, in your account,\nout of the pale of the Catholic church, without which, you believe,\nthere is no salvation; so that you esteem these but heretics still; and,\nfor other reasons, as effectually lost as the Pagans themselves?\u201d\nTo this he answered with abundance of candour and Christian charity,\nthus: \u201cSir, I am a Catholic of the Roman church, and a priest of the\norder of St. Benedict, and I embrace all the principles of the Roman\nfaith. But yet, if you will believe me, and this I do not speak in\ncompliment to you, or in respect to my circumstances and your\ncivilities; I say, nevertheless, I do not look upon you, who call\nyourselves reformed, without some charity: I dare not say, though I know\nit is our opinion in general, yet I dare not say, that you cannot be\nsaved; I will by no means limit the mercy of Christ, so far as to think\nthat he cannot receive you into the bosom of his church, in a manner to\nus imperceivable, and which it is impossible for us to know; and I hope\nyou have the same charity for us. I pray daily for your being all\nrestored to Christ\u2019s church, by whatsoever methods he, who is all-wise,\nis pleased to direct. In the mean time, sure you will allow it to\nconsist with me, as a Roman, to distinguish far between a Protestant and\na Pagan; between him that calls on Jesus Christ, though in a way which I\ndo not think is according to the true faith; and a savage, a barbarian,\nthat knows no God, no Christ, no Redeemer at all; and if you are not\nwithin the pale of the Catholic church, we hope you are nearer being\nrestored to it than those that know nothing at all of God or his church.\nI rejoice, therefore, when I see this poor man, who, you say, has been a\nprofligate, and almost a murderer, kneel down and pray to Jesus Christ,\nas we suppose he did, though not fully enlightened; believing that God,\nfrom whom every such work proceeds, will sensibly touch his heart, and\nbring him to the further knowledge of the truth in his own time; and if\nGod shall influence this poor man to convert and instruct the ignorant\nsavage his wife, I can never believe that he shall be cast away himself;\nand have I not reason then to rejoice, the nearer any are brought to the\nknowledge of Christ, though they may not be brought quite home into the\nbosom of the Catholic church, just at the time when I may desire it;\nleaving it to the goodness of Christ to perfect his work in his own\ntime, and his own way? Certainly I would rejoice if all the savages in\nAmerica were brought, like this poor woman, to pray to God, though they\nwere to be all Protestants at first, rather than they should continue\npagans and heathens; firmly believing, that He who had bestowed that\nfirst light upon them, would farther illuminate them with a beam of his\nheavenly grace, and bring them into the pale of his church, when he\nshould see good.\u201d\nI was astonished at the sincerity and temper of this truly pious Papist,\nas much as I was oppressed by the power of his reasoning; and it\npresently occurred to my thoughts, that if such a temper was universal,\nwe might be all Catholic Christians, whatever church or particular\nprofession we were joined to, or joined in; that a spirit of charity\nwould soon work us all up into right principles; and, in a word, as he\nthought that the like charity would make us all Catholics, as I told\nhim, I believed had all the members of his church the like moderation\nthey would soon be all Protestants; and there we left that part, for we\nnever disputed at all.\nHowever, I talked to him another way; and taking him by the hand, \u201cMy\nfriend,\u201d said I, \u201cI wish all the clergy of the Roman church were blessed\nwith such moderation, and an equal share of your charity. I am entirely\nof your opinion; but I must tell you, that if you should preach such\ndoctrine in Spain or Italy, they would put you into the Inquisition.\u201d\n\u201cIt may be so,\u201d said he; \u201cI know not what they might do in Spain and\nItaly; but I will not say they would be the better Christians for that\nseverity; for I am sure there is no heresy in too much charity.\u201d\nWell, as Will Atkins and his wife were gone, our business there was\nover; so we went back our own way; and when we came back we found them\nwaiting to be called in. Observing this, I asked my clergyman if we\nshould discover to him that we had seen him under the bush, or no; and\nit was his opinion we should not; but that we should talk to him first,\nand hear what he would say to us: so we called him in alone, nobody\nbeing in the place but ourselves; and I began with him thus:\n\u201cWill Atkins,\u201d said I, \u201cpr\u2019ythee what education had you? What was your\nfather?\u201d\n_W.A._ A better man than ever I shall be. Sir, my father was a\nclergyman.\n_R.C._ What education did he give you?\n_W.A._ He would have taught me well, Sir; but I despised all education,\ninstruction, or correction, like a beast as I was.\n_R.C._ It is true, Solomon says, \u201cHe that despiseth reproof is brutish.\u201d\n_W.A._ Ay, Sir, I was brutish indeed; I murdered my father; for God\u2019s\nsake, Sir, talk no more about that, Sir; I murdered my poor father.\n_Priest_. Ha! a murderer?\n     [Here the priest started (for I interpreted every word as he\n     spoke it), and looked pale: it seems he believed that Will\n     had really killed his own father.]\n_R.C._ No, no, Sir, I do not understand him so. Will Atkins, explain\nyourself: you did not kill your father, did you, with your own hands?\n_W.A._ No, Sir; I did not cut his throat; but I cut the thread of all\nhis comforts, and shortened his days; I broke his heart by the most\nungrateful, unnatural return for the most tender, affectionate treatment\nthat ever father gave, or child could receive.\n_R.C._ Well, I did not ask you about your father to extort this\nconfession; I pray God give you repentance for it, and forgive you that\nand all your other sins; but I asked you, because I see that, though you\nhave not much learning, yet you are not so ignorant as some are in\nthings that are good; that you have known more of religion a great deal\nthan you have practised.\n_W.A._ Though you, Sir, did not extort the confession that I make about\nmy father, conscience does; and whenever we come to look back upon our\nlives, the sins against our indulgent parents are certainly the first\nthat touch us; the wounds they make lie deepest; and the weight they\nleave will lie heaviest upon the mind of all the sins we can commit.\n_R.C._ You talk too feelingly and sensible for me, Atkins; I cannot bear\nit.\n_W.A. You_ bear it, master! I dare say you know nothing of it.\n_R.C._ Yes, Atkins, every shore, every hill, nay, I may say every tree\nin this island, is witness to the anguish of my soul for my ingratitude\nand base usage of a good tender father; a father much like yours by your\ndescription; and I murdered my father as well as you, Will Atkins; but\nthink for all that, my repentance is short of yours too, by a\ngreat deal.\n     [I would have said more, if I could have restrained my\n     passions; but I thought this poor man\u2019s repentance was so\n     much sincerer than mine, that I was going to leave off the\n     discourse and retire, for I was surprised with what he said,\n     and thought, that, instead of my going about to teach and\n     instruct him, the man was made a teacher and instructor to\n     me, in a most surprising and unexpected manner.]\nI laid all this before the young clergyman, who was greatly affected\nwith it, and said to me, \u201cDid I not say, Sir, that when this man was\nconverted he would preach to us all? I tell you, Sir, if this one man be\nmade a true penitent, here will be no need of me, he will make\nChristians of all in the island.\u201d But having a little composed myself I\nrenewed my discourse with Will Atkins.\n\u201cBut, Will,\u201d said I, \u201chow comes the sense of this matter to touch you\njust now?\u201d\n_W.A._ Sir, you have set me about a work that has struck a dart through\nmy very soul; I have been talking about God and religion to my wife, in\norder, as you directed me, to make a Christian of her; and she has\npreached such a sermon to me as I shall never forget while I live.\n_R.C._ No, no; it is not your wife has preached to you; but when you\nwere moving religious arguments to her, conscience has flung them\nback upon you.\n_W.A._ Ay, Sir, with such a force as is not to be resisted.\n_R.C._ Pray, Will, let us know what passed between you and your wife;\nfor I know something of it already.\n_W.A._ Sir, it is impossible to give you a full account of it: I am too\nfull to hold it, and yet have no tongue to express it: but let her have\nsaid what she will, and though I cannot give you an account of it, this\nI can tell you of it, that I resolve to amend and reform my life.\n_R.C._ But tell us some of it. How did you begin Will? for this has been\nan extraordinary case, that is certain; she has preached a sermon\nindeed, if she has wrought this upon you.\n_W.A._ Why, I first told her the nature of our laws about marriage, and\nwhat the reasons were that men and women were obliged to enter into such\ncompacts as it was neither in the power of one or other to break; that\notherwise, order and justice could not be maintained, and men would run\nfrom their wives and abandon their children, mix confusedly with one\nanother, and neither families be kept entire, or inheritances be settled\nby a legal descent.\n_R.C._ You talk like a civilian, Will. Could you make her understand\nwhat you meant by inheritance and families? They know no such thing\namong the savages, but marry any how, without any regard to relation,\nconsanguinity, or family; brother and sister, nay, as I have been told,\neven the father and daughter, and the son and the mother.\n_W.A._ I believe, Sir, you are misinformed;\u2014my wife assures me of the\ncontrary, and that they abhor it. Perhaps for any further relations they\nmay not be so exact as we are; but she tells me they never touch one\nanother in the near relations you speak of.\n_R.C._ Well, what did she say to what you told her?\n_W.A._ She said she liked it very well; and it was much better than in\nher country.\n_R.C._ But did you tell her what marriage was?\n_W.A._ Ay, ay, there began all our dialogue. I asked her, if she would\nbe married to me our way? She asked me, what way that was? I told her\nmarriage was appointed of God; and here we had a strange talk together\nindeed, as ever man and wife had, I believe.\n     [N.B. This dialogue between W. Atkins and his wife, as I took\n     it down in writing just after he told it me, was as follows:]\n_Wife_. Appointed by your God! Why, have you a God in your country?\n_W.A._ Yes, my dear; God is in every country.\n_Wife._ No your God in my country; my country have the great old\nBenamuckee God.\n_W.A._ Child, I am very unfit to shew you who God is; God is in heaven,\nand made the heaven and the earth, the sea, and all that in them is.\n_Wife._ No makee de earth; no you God makee de earth; no make my\ncountry.\n     [W.A. laughed a little at her expression of God not making\n     her country.]\n_Wife._ No laugh: why laugh me? This no ting to laugh.\n     [He was justly reproved by his wife, for she was more serious\n     than he at first.]\n_W.A._ That\u2019s true, indeed; I will not laugh any more, my dear.\n_Wife._ Why you say, you God make all?\n_W.A._ Yes, child, our God made the whole world, and you, and me, and\nall things; for he is the only true God; there is no God but he; he\nlives for ever in heaven.\n_Wife._ Why you no tell me long ago?\n_W.A._ That\u2019s true, indeed; but I have been a wicked wretch, and have\nnot only forgotten to acquaint thee with any thing before, but have\nlived without God in the world myself.\n_Wife._ What have you de great God in your country, you no know him? No\nsay O to him? No do good ting for him? That no impossible!\n_W.A._ It is too true though, for all that: we live as if there was no\nGod in heaven, or that he had no power on earth.\n_Wife._ But why God let you do so? Why he no makee you good live!\n_W.A._ It is all our own fault.\n_Wife._ But you say me he is great, much great, have much great power;\ncan make kill when he will: why he no make kill when you no serve him?\nno say O to him? no be good mans?\n_W.A._ That is true; he might strike me dead, and I ought to expect it;\nfor I have been a wicked wretch, that is true: but God is merciful, and\ndoes not deal with us as we deserve.\n_Wife._ But then do not you tell God tankee for that too?\n_W.A._ No, Indeed; I have not thanked God for his mercy, any more than I\nhave feared God for his power.\n_Wife._ Then you God no God; me no tink, believe he be such one, great\nmuch power, strong; no makee kill you, though you makee him much angry!\n_W.A._ What! will my wicked life hinder you from believing in God! What\na dreadful creature am I! And what a sad truth is it, that the horrid\nlives of Christians hinder the conversion of heathens!\n_Wife._ Now me tink you have great much God up there, (_she points up to\nheaven_) and yet no do well, no do good ting? Can he tell? Sure he no\ntell what you do.\n_W.A._ Yes, yes, he knows and sees all things; he hears us speak, sees\nwhat we do, knows what we think, though we do not speak.\n_Wife_ What! he no hear you swear, curse, speak the great damn?\n_W.A._ Yes, yes, he hears it all.\n_Wife._ Where be then the muchee great power strong?\n_W.A._ He is merciful; that is all we can say for it; and this proves\nhim to be the true God: he is God, and not man; and therefore we are\nnot consumed.\n     [Here Will Atkins told us he was struck with horror to think\n     how he could tell his wife so clearly that God sees, and\n     hears, and knows the secret thoughts of the heart, and all\n     that we do; and yet that he had dared to do all the vile\n     things he had done.]\n_Wife._ Merciful! what you call dat?\n_W.A._ He is our father and maker; and he pities and spares us.\n_Wife._ So then he never makee kill, never angry when you do wicked;\nthen he no good himself, or no great able.\n_W.A._ Yes, yes, my dear; he is infinitely good, and infinitely great,\nand able to punish too; and some times, to shew his justice and\nvengeance, he lets fly his anger to destroy sinners and make examples;\nmany are cut off in their sins.\n_Wife._ But no makee kill you yet; then he tell you, may be, that he no\nmakee you kill, so you make de bargain with him, you do bad ting, he no\nbe angry at you, when he be angry at other mans?\n_W.A._ No, indeed, my sins are all presumptions upon his goodness; and\nhe would be infinitely just if he destroyed me as he has done other men.\n_Wife._ Well, and yet no kill, no makee you dead! What you say to him\nfor that? You no tell him tankee for all that too!\n_W.A._ I am an unthankful, ungrateful dog, that is true.\n_Wife._ Why he no makee you much good better? You say he makee you.\n_W.A._. He made me as he made all the world; \u2019tis I have deformed\nmyself, and abused his goodness, and have made myself an\nabominable wretch.\n_Wife._ I wish you makee God know me; I no makee him angry; I no do bad\nwicked ting.\n     [Here Will Atkins said his heart sunk within him, to hear a\n     poor, untaught creature desire to be taught to know God, and\n     he such a wicked wretch that he could not say one word to her\n     about God, but what the reproach of his own carriage would\n     make most irrational to her to believe; nay, that already she\n     could not believe in God, because he that was so wicked was\n     not destroyed.]\n_W.A._ My dear, you mean you wish I could teach you to know God, not God\nto know you, for he knows you already, and every thought in your heart.\n_Wife._ Why then he know what I say to you now; he know me wish to know\nhim; how shall me know who makee me?\n_W.A._ Poor creature, he must teach thee, I cannot teach thee; I\u2019ll pray\nto him to teach thee to know him; and to forgive me that I am unworthy\nto teach thee.\n     [The poor fellow was in such an agony at her desiring him to\n     make her know God, and her wishing to know him, that he said\n     he fell down on his knees before her, and prayed to God to\n     enlighten her mind with the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ,\n     and to pardon his sins, and accept of his being the unworthy\n     instrument of instructing her in the principles of religion;\n     after which he sat down by her again, and their dialogue\n     went on.]\n     N.B. This was the time when we saw him kneel down and lift up\n     his hands.\n_Wife._ What you put down the knee for? What you hold up the hand for?\nWhat you say? Who you speak to? What is that?\n_W.A._ My dear, I bow my knees in token of my submission to Him that\nmade me: I said O to him, as you call it, and as you say your old men do\nto their idol Benamuckee; that is, I prayed to him.\n_Wife._ What you say O to him for?\n_W.A._ I prayed to him to open your eyes and your understanding, that\nyou may know him, and be accepted by him.\n_Wife._ Can he do that too?\n_W.A._ Yes, he can; he can do all things.\n_Wife._ But he no hear what you say?\n_W.A._ Yes, he has bid us pray to him; and promised to hear us.\n_Wife._ Bid you pray? When he bid you? How he bid you? What you hear him\nspeak?\n_W.A._ No, we do not hear him speak; but he has revealed himself many\nways to us.\n     [Here he was at a great loss to make her understand that God\n     had revealed himself to us by his word; and what his word\n     was; but at last he told it her thus:]\n_W.A._ God has spoken to some good men in former days, even from heaven,\nby plain words; and God has inspired good men by his Spirit; and they\nhave written all his laws down in a book.\n_Wife._ Me no understand that: where is book?\n_W.A._. Alas! my poor creature, I have not this book; but I hope I\nshall, one time or other, get it for you to read it.\n     [Here he embraced her with great affection; but with\n     inexpressible grief, that he had not a Bible.]\n_Wife._ But how you makee me know that God teachee them to write that\nbook?\n_W.A._ By the same rule that we know him to be God.\n_Wife._ What rule? what way you know?\n_W.A._ Because he teaches and commands nothing but what is good,\nrighteous, and holy, and tends to make us perfectly good, as well as\nperfectly happy; and because he forbids, and commands us to avoid, all\nthat is wicked, that is evil in itself, or evil in its consequences.\n_Wife._ That me would understand, that me fain see; if he reward all\ngood thing, punish all wicked thing, he teachee all good thing, forbid\nall wicked thing, he makee all thing, he give all thing; he hear me when\nI say O to him, as you go to do just now; he makee me good if I wish be\ngood; he spare me, no makee kill me when I no be good; all this you say\nhe do: yes, he be great God; me take, think, believe him be great God;\nme say O to him too with you, my dear.\nHere the poor man said he could forbear no longer; but, raising her up,\nmade her kneel by him; and he prayed to God aloud to instruct her in the\nknowledge of himself by his Spirit; and that by some good providence, if\npossible, she might some time or other come to have a Bible, that she\nmight read the word of God, and be taught by him to know him.\n     [This was the time that we saw him lift her up by the hand,\n     and saw him kneel down by her, as above.]\nThey had several other discourses, it seems, after this, too long to\nset down here; and particularly she made him promise, that, since he\nconfessed his own life had been a wicked, abominable course of\nprovocation against God, he would reform it, and not make God angry any\nmore, lest he should make him dead, as she called it, and then she\nshould be left alone, and never be taught to know this God better; and\nlest he should be miserable, as he told her wicked men should be\nafter death.\nThis was a strange account, and very affecting to us both, but\nparticularly the young clergyman; he was indeed wonderfully surprised\nwith it; but under the greatest affliction imaginable that he could not\ntalk to her; that he could not speak English to make her understand him;\nand as she spoke but very broken English he could not understand her.\nHowever, he turned himself to me, and told me, that he believed there\nmust be more to do with this woman than to marry her. I did not\nunderstand him at first, but at length he explained himself, viz. that\nshe ought to be baptized.\nI agreed with him in that part readily, and was for going about it\npresently: \u201cNo, no; hold, Sir,\u201d said he; \u201cthough I would have her\nbaptized by all means, yet I must observe, that Will Atkins, her\nhusband, has indeed brought her, in a wonderful manner, to be willing to\nembrace a religious life; and has given her just ideas of the being of a\nGod, of his power, justice, and mercy; yet I desire to know of him, if\nhe has said any thing to her of Jesus Christ, and of the salvation of\nsinners; of the nature of faith in him, and the redemption by him; of\nthe Holy Spirit, the Resurrection, the last judgment, and a\nfuture state.\u201d\nI called Will Atkins again, and asked him; but the poor fellow fell\nimmediately into tears, and told us he had said something to her of all\nthose things, but that he was himself so wicked a creature, and his own\nconscience so reproached him with his horrid, ungodly life, that he\ntrembled at the apprehensions, that her knowledge of him should lessen\nthe attention she should give to those things, and make her rather\ncontemn religion than receive it: but he was assured, he said, that her\nmind was so disposed to receive due impressions of all those things,\nthat, if I would but discourse with her, she would make it appear to my\nsatisfaction that my labour would not be lost upon her.\nAccordingly I called her in, and placing myself as interpreter between\nmy religious priest and the woman, I entreated him to begin with her.\nBut sure such a sermon was never preached by a popish priest in these\nlatter ages of the world: and, as I told him, I thought he had all the\nzeal, all the knowledge, all the sincerity of a Christian, without the\nerrors of a Roman Catholic; and that I took him to be such a clergyman\nas the Roman bishops were before the church of Rome assumed spiritual\nsovereignty over the consciences of men.\nIn a word, he brought the poor woman to embrace the knowledge of Christ,\nand of redemption by him, not with wonder and astonishment only, as she\ndid the first notions of a God, but with joy and faith, with an\naffection, and a surprising degree of understanding, scarce to be\nimagined, much less to be expressed; and at her own request she\nwas baptized.\nWhen he was preparing to baptize her, I entreated him that he would\nperform that office with some caution, that the man might not perceive\nhe was of the Roman church, if possible; because of other ill\nconsequences which might attend a difference among us in that very\nreligion which we were instructing the other in. He told me, that as he\nhad no consecrated chapel, nor proper things for the office, I should\nsee he would do it in a manner that I should not know by it that he was\na Roman Catholic himself if I had not known it before, and so he did;\nfor saying only some words over to himself in Latin, which I could not\nunderstand, he poured a whole dishfull of water upon the woman\u2019s head,\npronouncing in French very loud _Mary_ (which was the name her husband\ndesired me to give her, for I was her godfather,) _I baptize thee in\nthe name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost_; so that\nnone could know any thing by it what religion he was of: he gave the\nbenediction afterwards in Latin; but either Will Atkins did not know but\nit was in French, or else did not take notice of it at that time.\nAs soon as this was over, he married them; and after the marriage was\nover, he turned himself to Will Atkins, and in a very affectionate\nmanner exhorted him not only to persevere in that good disposition he\nwas in, but to support the convictions that were upon him by a\nresolution to reform his life; told him it was in vain to say he\nrepented if he did not forsake his crimes; represented to him, how God\nhad honoured him with being the instrument of bringing his wife to the\nknowledge of the Christian religion; and that he should be careful he\ndid not dishonour the grace of God; and that if he did, he would see the\nheathen a better Christian than himself; the savage converted, and the\ninstrument cast away!\nHe said a great many good things to them both, and then recommended\nthem, in a few words, to God\u2019s goodness; gave them the benediction\nagain, I repeating every thing to them in English: and thus ended the\nceremony. I think it was the most pleasant, agreeable day to me that\never I passed in my whole life.\nBut my clergyman had not done yet; his thoughts hung continually upon\nthe conversion of the thirty-seven savages, and fain he would have staid\nupon the island to have undertaken it; but I convinced him, first, that\nhis undertaking was impracticable in itself; and secondly, that,\nperhaps, I could put it into a way of being done, in his absence, to his\nsatisfaction; of which by and by.\nHaving thus brought the affair of the island to a narrow compass, I was\npreparing to go on board the ship when the young man, whom I had taken\nout of the famished ship\u2019s company, came to me, and told me, he\nunderstood I had a clergyman with me, and that I had caused the\nEnglishmen to be married to the savages whom they called wives; that he\nhad a match too, which he desired might be finished before I went,\nbetween two Christians, which he hoped would not be disagreeable to me.\nI knew this must be the young woman who was his mother\u2019s servant, for\nthere was no other Christian woman on the island. So I began to persuade\nhim not to do any thing of that kind rashly, or because he found himself\nin this solitary circumstance. I represented that he had some\nconsiderable substance in the world, and good friends, as I understood\nby himself, and by his maid also; that the maid was not only poor, and a\nservant, but was unequal to him, she being twenty-six or twenty-seven\nyears old, and he not above seventeen or eighteen; that he might very\nprobably, with my assistance, make a remove from this wilderness, and\ncome into his own country again, and that then it would be a thousand to\none but he would repent his choice, and the dislike of that circumstance\nmight be disadvantageous to both. I was going to say more, but he\ninterrupted me, smiling; and told me, with a great deal of modesty, that\nI mistook in my guesses; that he had nothing of that kind in his\nthoughts, his present circumstances being melancholy and disconsolate\nenough; and he was very glad to hear that I had some thoughts of putting\nthem in a way to see their own country again; and that nothing should\nhave set him upon staying there, but that the voyage I was going was so\nexceeding long and hazardous, and would carry him quite out of the reach\nof all his friends; that he had nothing to desire of me, but that I\nwould settle him in some little property of the island where he was;\ngive him a servant or two, and some few necessaries, and he would settle\nhimself here like a planter, waiting the good time when, if ever I\nreturned to England, I would redeem him, and hoped I would not be\nunmindful of him when I came to England; that he would give me some\nletters to his friends in London, to let them know how good I had been\nto him, and what part of the world, and what circumstances I had left\nhim in; and he promised me, that whenever I redeemed him, the\nplantation, and all the improvements he had made upon it, let the value\nbe what it would, should be wholly mine.\nHis discourse was very prettily delivered, considering his youth, and\nwas the more agreeable to me, because he told me positively the match\nwas not for himself. I gave him all possible assurances, that, if I\nlived to come safe to England, I would deliver his letters, and do his\nbusiness effectually, and that he might depend I would never forget the\ncircumstances I left him in. But still I was impatient to know who was\nthe person to be married; upon which he told me it was my Jack of all\nTrades and his maid Susan.\nI was most agreeably surprised when he named the match; for indeed I had\nthought it very suitable. The character of that man I have given\nalready; and as for the maid, she was a very honest, modest, sober, and\nreligious young woman; had a very good share of sense; was agreeable\nenough in her person; spoke very handsomely, and to the purpose; always\nwith decency and good manners, and not backward to speak when any thing\nrequired it, or impertinently forward to speak when it was not her\nbusiness; very handy and housewifely in any thing that was before her;\nan excellent manager, and fit indeed to have been governess to the whole\nisland; she knew very well how to behave herself to all kind of folks\nshe had about her, and to better if she had found any there.\nThe match being proposed in this manner, we married them the same day:\nand as I was father at the altar, as I may say, and gave her away, so I\ngave her a portion, for I appointed her and her husband a handsome large\nspace of ground for their plantation; and indeed this match, and the\nproposal the young gentleman made to me, to give him a small property in\nthe island, put me upon parcelling it out among them, that they might\nnot quarrel afterwards about their situation.\nThis sharing out the land to them I left to Will Atkins, who indeed was\nnow grown a most sober, grave, managing fellow, perfectly reformed,\nexceeding pious and religious, and as far as I may be allowed to speak\npositively in such a case, I verily believe was a true sincere penitent.\nHe divided things so justly, and so much to every one\u2019s satisfaction,\nthat they only desired one general writing under my hand for the whole,\nwhich I caused to be drawn up, and signed and sealed to them, setting\nout the bounds and situation of every man\u2019s plantation, and testifying\nthat I gave them thereby, severally, a right to the whole possession and\ninheritance of the respective plantations or farms, with their\nimprovements, to them and their heirs; reserving all the rest of the\nisland as my own property, and a certain rent for every particular\nplantation after eleven years, if I or any one from me, or in my name,\ncame to demand it, producing an attested copy of the same writing.\nAs to the government and laws among them, I told them, I was not capable\nof giving them better rules than they were able to give themselves; only\nmade them promise me to live in love and good neighbourhood with one\nanother: and so I prepared to leave them.\nOne thing I must not omit, and that is, that being now settled in a kind\nof commonwealth among themselves, and having much business in hand, it\nwas but odd to have seven-and-thirty Indians live in a nook of the\nisland, independent, and indeed unemployed; for excepting the providing\nthemselves food, which they had difficulty enough in doing sometimes,\nthey had no manner of business or property to manage: I proposed\ntherefore to the governor Spaniard, that he should go to them with\nFriday\u2019s father, and propose to them to remove, and either plant for\nthemselves, or take them into their several families as servants, to be\nmaintained for their labour, but without being absolute slaves, for I\nwould not admit them to make them slaves by force by any means, because\nthey had their liberty given by capitulation, and as it were articles\nof surrender, which they ought not to break.\nThey most willingly embraced the proposal, and came all very cheerfully\nalong with him; so we allotted them land and plantations, which three or\nfour accepted of, but all the rest chose to be employed as servants in\nthe several families we had settled; and thus my colony was in a manner\nsettled as follows: The Spaniards possessed my original habitation,\nwhich was the capital city, and extended their plantation all along the\nside of the brook which made the creek that I have so often described,\nas far as my bower; and as they increased their culture, it went always\neastward. The English lived in the north-east part, where Will Atkins\nand his comrades began, and came on southward and south-west, towards\nthe back part of the Spaniards; and every plantation had a great\naddition of land to take in, if they found occasion, so that they need\nnot jostle one another for want of room.\nAll the west end of the island was left uninhabited, that, if any of the\nsavages should come on shore there, only for their usual customary\nbarbarities, they might come and go; if they disturbed nobody, nobody\nwould disturb them; and no doubt but they were often ashore, and went\naway again, for I never heard that the planters were ever attacked and\ndisturbed any more.\nIt now came into my thoughts that I had hinted to my friend the\nclergyman that the work of converting the savages might perhaps be set\non foot in his absence to his satisfaction; and I told him, that now I\nthought it was put in a fair way, for the savages being thus divided\namong the Christians, if they would but every one of them do their part\nwith those which came under their hands, I hoped it might have a very\ngood effect.\nHe agreed presently in that; \u201cif,\u201d said he, \u201cthey will do their part;\nbut how,\u201d says he, \u201cshall we obtain that of them?\u201d I told him we would\ncall them all together, and leave it in charge with them, or go to them\none by one, which he thought best; so we divided it\u2014he to speak to the\nSpaniards, who were all Papists, and I to the English, who were all\nProtestants; and we recommended it earnestly to them, and made them\npromise that they would never make any distinction of Papist or\nProtestant in their exhorting the savages to turn Christians, but teach\nthem the general knowledge of the true God, and of their Saviour Jesus\nChrist; and they likewise promised us that they would never have any\ndifferences or disputes one with another about religion.\nWhen I came to Will Atkins\u2019s house, (I may call it so, for such a house,\nor such a piece of basket-work, I believe was not standing in the world\nagain!) I say, when I came thither I found the young woman I have\nmentioned above, and William Atkins\u2019s wife, were become intimates; and\nthis prudent and religious young woman had perfected the work Will\nAtkins had begun; and though it was not above four days after what I\nhave related, yet the new-baptized savage woman was made such a\nChristian as I have seldom heard of any like her, in all my observation\nor conversation in the world.\nIt came next into my mind in the morning, before I went to them, that\namong all the needful things I had to leave with them, I had not left a\nBible; in which I shewed myself less considering for them than my good\nfriend the widow was for me, when she sent me the cargo of 100_l_. from\nLisbon, where she packed up three Bibles and a Prayer-book. However, the\ngood woman\u2019s charity had a greater extent than ever she imagined, for\nthey were reserved for the comfort and instruction of those that made\nmuch better use of them than I had done.\nI took one of the Bibles in my pocket; and when I came to William\nAtkins\u2019s tent, or house, I found the young woman and Atkins\u2019s baptized\nwife had been discoursing of religion together (for William Atkins told\nit me with a great deal of joy.) I asked if they were together now? And\nhe said yes; so I went into the house, and he with me, and we found\nthem together, very earnest in discourse: \u201cO Sir,\u201d says William Atkins,\n\u201cwhen God has sinners to reconcile to himself, and aliens to bring home,\nhe never wants a messenger: my wife has got a new instructor\u2014I knew I\nwas unworthy, as I was incapable of that work\u2014that young woman has been\nsent hither from Heaven\u2014she is enough to convert a whole island of\nsavages.\u201d The young woman blushed, and rose up to go away, but I desired\nher to sit still; I told her she had a good work upon her hands, and I\nhoped God would bless her in it.\nWe talked a little, and I did not perceive they had any book among them,\nthough I did not ask, but I put my hand in my pocket, and pulled out my\nBible. \u201cHere,\u201d said I to Atkins, \u201cI have brought you an assistant, that\nperhaps you had not before.\u201d The man was so confounded, that he was not\nable to speak for some time; but recovering himself, he takes it with\nboth hands, and turning to his wife, \u201cHere, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cdid not\nI tell you our God, though he lives above, could hear what we said? Here\nis the book I prayed for when you and I kneeled down under the bush; now\nGod has heard us, and sent it.\u201d When he had said thus, the man fell in\nsuch transports of a passionate joy, that between the joy of having it,\nand giving God thanks for it, the tears ran down his face like a child\nthat was crying.\nThe woman was surprised, and was like to have run into a mistake that\nnone of us were aware of; for she firmly believed God had sent the book\nupon her husband\u2019s petition: it is true that providentially it was so,\nand might be taken so in a consequent sense; but I believed it would\nhave been no difficult matter at that time to have persuaded the poor\nwoman to have believed that an express messenger came from Heaven on\npurpose to bring that individual book; but it was too serious a matter\nto suffer any delusion to take place: so I turned to the young woman,\nand told her we did not desire to impose upon the convert in her first\nand more ignorant understanding of things, and begged her to explain to\nher that God may be very properly said to answer our petitions, when in\nthe course of his providence such things are in a particular manner\nbrought to pass as we petitioned for; but we do not expect returns from\nHeaven in a miraculous and particular manner; and that it is our mercy\nit is not so.\nThis the young woman did afterwards effectually; so that there was, I\nassure you, no priestcraft used here; and I should have thought it one\nof the most unjustifiable frauds in the world to have had it so: but the\nsurprise of joy upon Will Atkins is really not to be expressed; and\nthere we may be sure was no delusion. Sure no man was ever more thankful\nin the world for any thing of its kind than he was for this Bible; and I\nbelieve never any man was glad of a Bible from a better principle; and\nthough he had been a most profligate creature, desperate, headstrong,\noutrageous, furious, and wicked to a great degree, yet this man is a\nstanding rule to us all for the well instructing children, viz. that\nparents should never give over to teach and instruct, or ever despair of\nthe success of their endeavours, let the children be ever so obstinate,\nrefractory, or to appearance insensible of instruction; for if ever God\nin his providence touches the consciences of such, the force of their\neducation returns upon them, and the early instruction of parents is not\nlost, though it may have been many years laid asleep, but some time or\nother they may find the benefit of it.\nThus it was with this poor man. However ignorant he was, or divested of\nreligion and Christian knowledge, he found he had some to do with now\nmore ignorant than himself; and that the least part of the instruction\nof his good father that could now come to his mind was of use to him.\nAmong the rest it occurred to him, he said, how his father used to\ninsist much upon the inexpressible value of the Bible, the privilege\nand blessing of it to nations, families, and persons; but he never\nentertained the least notion of the worth of it till now, when being to\ntalk to heathens, savages, and barbarians, he wanted the help of the\nwritten oracle for his assistance.\nThe young woman was very glad of it also for the present occasion,\nthough she had one, and so had the youth, on board our ship among the\ngoods which were not yet brought on shore. And now, having said so many\nthings of this young woman, I cannot omit telling one story more of her\nand myself, which has something in it very informing and remarkable.\nI have related to what extremity the poor young woman was reduced; how\nher mistress was starved to death, and did die on board that unhappy\nship we met at sea; and how the whole ship\u2019s company being reduced to\nthe last extremity, the gentlewoman and her son, and this maid, were\nfirst hardly used as to provisions, and at last totally neglected and\nstarved; that is to say, brought to the last extremity of hunger.\nOne day being discoursing with her upon the extremities they suffered, I\nasked her if she could describe by what she felt what it was to starve,\nand how it appeared? She told me she believed she could, and she told\nher tale very distinctly thus:\n\u201cFirst, Sir,\u201d said she, \u201cwe had for some days fared exceeding hard, and\nsuffered very great hunger, but now at last we were wholly without food\nof any kind except sugar, and a little wine, and a little water. The\nfirst day after I had received no food at all, I found myself, towards\nevening, first empty and sickish at my stomach, and nearer night\nmightily inclined to yawning, and sleepy; I lay down on a couch in the\ngreat cabin to sleep, and slept about three hours, and awaked a little\nrefreshed, having taken a glass of wine when I lay down. After being\nabout three hours awake, it being about five o\u2019clock in the morning, I\nfound myself empty, and my stomach sickish again, and lay down again,\nbut could not sleep at all, being very faint and ill; and thus I\ncontinued all the second day with a strange variety\u2014first hungry, then\nsick again, with retchings to vomit. The second night, being obliged to\ngo to bed again without any food more than a draught of fair water, and\nbeing asleep, I dreamed I was at Barbadoes, and that the market was\nmightily stocked with provisions, that I bought some for my mistress,\nand went and dined very heartily.\n\u201cI thought my stomach was full after this, as it would have been after\nor at a good dinner; but when I waked, I was exceedingly sunk in my\nspirits to find myself in the extremity of famine; the last glass of\nwine we had I drank, and put sugar into it, because of its having some\nspirit to supply nourishment; but there being no substance in the\nstomach for the digesting office to work upon, I found the only effect\nof the wine was to raise disagreeable fumes from the stomach into the\nhead; and I lay, as they told me, stupid and senseless as one drunk for\nsome time.\n\u201cThe third day in the morning, after a night of strange and confused\ninconsistent dreams, and rather dozing than sleeping, I awaked ravenous\nand furious with hunger; and I question, had not my understanding\nreturned and conquered it, I say, I question whether, if I had been a\nmother, and had had a little child with me, its life would have been\nsafe or no.\n\u201cThis lasted about three hours, during which time I was twice raging mad\nas any creature in Bedlam, as my young master told me, and as he can now\ninform you.\n\u201cIn one of these fits of lunacy or distraction, whether by the motion of\nthe ship or some slip of my foot I know not, I fell down, and struck my\nface against the corner of a pallet-bed, in which my mistress lay, and\nwith the blow the blood gushed out of my nose, and the cabin-boy\nbringing me a little basin, I sat down and bled into it a great deal,\nand as the blood ran from me I came to myself, and the violence of the\nflame or the fever I was in abated, and so did the ravenous part of\nthe hunger.\n\u201cThen I grew sick, and retched to vomit, but could not, for I had\nnothing in my stomach to bring up. After I had bled some time I swooned,\nand they all believed I was dead; but I came to myself soon after, and\nthen had a most dreadful pain in my stomach, not to be described, not\nlike the colic, but a gnawing eager pain for food, and towards night it\nwent off with a kind of earnest wishing or longing for food, something\nlike, as I suppose, the longing of a woman with child. I took another\ndraught of water with sugar in it, but my stomach loathed the sugar, and\nbrought it all up again; then I took a draught of water without sugar,\nand that stayed with me, and I laid me down upon the bed, praying most\nheartily that it would please God to take me away; and composing my mind\nin hopes of it, I slumbered awhile; and then waking, thought myself\ndying, being light with vapours from an empty stomach: I recommended my\nsoul to God, and earnestly wished that somebody would throw me into\nthe sea.\n\u201cAll this while my mistress lay by me just, as I thought, expiring, but\nbore it with much more patience than I, and gave the last bit of bread\nshe had to her child, my young master, who would not have taken it, but\nshe obliged him to eat it, and I believe it saved his life.\n\u201cTowards the morning I slept again, and first when I awaked I fell into\na violent passion of crying, and after that had a second fit of violent\nhunger, so that I got up ravenous, and in a most dreadful condition. Had\nmy mistress been dead, so much as I loved her, I am certain I should\nhave eaten a piece of her flesh with as much relish and as unconcerned\nas ever I did the flesh of any creature appointed for food; and once or\ntwice I was going to bite my own arm. At last I saw the basin in which\nwas the blood had bled at my nose the day before; I ran to it, and\nswallowed it with such haste, and such a greedy appetite, as if I had\nwondered nobody had taken it before, and afraid it should be taken\nfrom me now.\n\u201cThough after it was down the thoughts of it filled me with horror, yet\nit checked the fit of hunger, and I drank a draught of fair water, and\nwas composed and refreshed for some hours, after it. This was the fourth\nday; and thus I held it till towards night, when, within the compass of\nthree hours, I had all these several circumstances over again, one after\nanother, viz. sick, sleepy, eagerly hungry, pain in the stomach, then\nravenous again, then sick again, then lunatic, then crying, then\nravenous again, and so every quarter of an hour; and my strength wasted\nexceedingly. At night I laid me down, having no comfort but in the hope\nthat I should die before morning.\n\u201cAll this night I had no sleep, but the hunger was now turned into a\ndisease, and I had a terrible colic and griping, wind instead of food\nhaving found its way into my bowels; and in this condition I lay till\nmorning, when I was surprised a little with the cries and lamentations\nof my young master, who called out to me that his mother was dead. I\nlifted myself up a little, for I had not strength to rise, but found she\nwas not dead, though she was able to give very little signs of life.\n\u201cI had then such convulsions in my stomach for want of some sustenance,\nthat I cannot describe them, with such frequent throes and pangs of\nappetite that nothing but the tortures of death can imitate; and this\ncondition I was in when I heard the seamen above cry out \u2018A sail! a\nsail!\u2019 and halloo and jump about as if they were distracted.\n\u201cI was not able to get off from the bed, and my mistress much less; and\nmy master was so sick that I thought he had been expiring; so we could\nnot open the cabin-door, or get any account what it was that occasioned\nsuch a combustion; nor had we any conversation with the ship\u2019s company\nfor two days, they having told us they had not a mouthful of any thing\nto eat in the ship; and they told us afterwards they thought we had\nbeen dead.\n\u201cIt was this dreadful condition we were in when you were sent to save\nour lives; and how you found us, Sir, you know as well as I, and\nbetter too.\u201d\nThis was her own relation, and is such a distinct account of starving to\ndeath as I confess I never met with, and was exceeding entertaining to\nme: I am the rather apt to believe it to be a true account, because the\nyouth gave me an account of a good part of it; though I must own not so\ndistinct and so feelingly as his maid, and the rather because it seems\nhis mother fed him at the price of her own life: but the poor maid,\nthough her constitution being stronger than that of her mistress, who\nwas in years, and a weakly woman too, she might struggle harder with it;\nI say, the poor maid might be supposed to feel the extremity something\nsooner than her mistress, who might be allowed to keep the last bits\nsomething longer than she parted with any to relieve the maid. No\nquestion, as the case is here related, if our ship, or some other, had\nnot so providentially met them, a few days more would have ended all\ntheir lives, unless they had prevented it by eating one another; and\neven that, as their case stood, would have served them but a little\nwhile, they being five hundred leagues from any land, or any possibility\nof relief, other than in the miraculous manner it happened.\u2014But this is\nby the way; I return to my disposition of things among the people.\nAnd first, it is to be observed here, that for many reasons I did not\nthink fit to let them know any thing of the sloop I had framed, and\nwhich I thought of setting up among them; for I found, at least at my\nfirst coming, such seeds of division among them, that I saw it plainly,\nhad I set up the sloop, and left it among them, they would, upon very\nlight disgust, have separated, and gone away from one another; or\nperhaps have turned pirates, and so made the island a den of thieves,\ninstead of a plantation of sober and religious people, as I intended it\nto be; nor did I leave the two pieces of brass cannon that I had on\nboard, or the two quarter-deck guns, that my nephew took extraordinary,\nfor the same reason: I thought they had enough to qualify them for a\ndefensive war, against any that should invade them; but I was not to set\nthem up for an offensive war, or to encourage them to go abroad to\nattack others, which, in the end, would only bring ruin and destruction\nupon themselves and all their undertakings: I reserved the sloop,\ntherefore, and the guns, for their service another way, as I shall\nobserve in its place.\nI have now done with the island: I left them all in good circumstances,\nand in a flourishing condition, and went on board my ship again the\nfifth day of May, having been five and twenty days among them; and, as\nthey were all resolved to stay upon the island till I came to remove\nthem, I promised to send some further relief from the Brasils, if I\ncould possibly find an opportunity; and particularly I promised to send\nthem some cattle; such as sheep, hogs, and cows; for as to the two cows\nand calves which I brought from England, we had been obliged, by the\nlength of our voyage, to kill them at sea, for want of hay to feed them.\nThe next day, giving them a salute of five guns at parting, we set sail,\nand arrived at the bay of All Saints, in the Brasils, in about\ntwenty-two days; meeting nothing remarkable in our passage but this,\nthat about three days after we sailed, being becalmed, and the current\nsetting strong to the N.N.E. running, as it were, into a bay or gulf on\nthe land side, we were driven something out of our course; and once or\ntwice our men cried Land, to the westward; but whether it was the\ncontinent, or islands, we could not tell by any means.\nBut the third day, towards evening, the sea smooth and the weather calm,\nwe saw the sea, as it were, covered towards the land, with something\nvery black, not being able to discover what it was; but, after some\ntime, our chief mate going up the main shrouds a little way, and looking\nat them with a perspective, cried out, it was an army. I could not\nimagine what he meant by an army, and spoke a little hastily, calling\nthe fellow a fool, or some such word: \u201cNay, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cdon\u2019t be\nangry, for it is an army, and a fleet too; for I believe there are a\nthousand canoes, and you may see them paddle along, and they are coming\ntowards us too apace, and full of men.\u201d\nI was a little surprised then, indeed, and so was my nephew the captain;\nfor he had heard such terrible stories of them in the island, and having\nnever been in those seas before, that he could not tell what to think of\nit, but said two or three times, we should all be devoured. I must\nconfess, considering we were becalmed, and the current set strong\ntowards the shore, I liked it the worse; however, I bade him not be\nafraid, but bring the ship to an anchor, as soon as we came so near as\nto know that we must engage them.\nThe weather continued calm, and they came on apace towards us; so I gave\norders to come to an anchor, and furl all our sails. As for the savages,\nI told them they had nothing to fear from them but fire; and therefore\nthey should get their boats out, and fasten them, one close by the head,\nand the other by the stern, and man them both well, and wait the issue\nin that posture: this I did, that the men in the boats might be ready,\nwith sheet and buckets, to put out any fire these savages might\nendeavour to fix upon the outside of the ship.\nIn this posture we lay by for them, and in a little while they came up\nwith us; but never was such a horrid sight seen by Christians; my mate\nwas much mistaken in his calculation of their number, I mean of a\nthousand canoes; the most we could make of them when they came up, being\nabout 126; and a great many of them too; for some of them had sixteen or\nseventeen men in them, some more, and the least six or seven.\nWhen they came nearer to us, they seemed to be struck with wonder and\nastonishment, as at a sight which they had, doubtless, never seen\nbefore; nor could they, at first, as we afterwards understood, know what\nto make of us. They came boldly up however, very near to us, and seemed\nto go about to row round us; but we called to our men in the boats not\nto let them come too near them. This very order brought us to an\nengagement with them, without our designing it; for five or six of the\nlarge canoes came so near our long-boat, that our men beckoned with\ntheir hands to keep them back, which they understood very well, and went\nback: but at their retreat about fifty arrows came on board us from\nthose boats, and one of our men in the long-boat was very much wounded.\nHowever, I called to them not to fire by any means; but we handed down\nsome deal boards into the boat, and the carpenter presently set up a\nkind of fence, like waste boards, to cover them from the arrows of the\nsavages, if they should shoot again.\nAbout half-an-hour afterwards they all came up in a body astern of us,\nand so near that we could easily discern what they were, though we could\nnot tell their design; and I easily found they were some of my old\nfriends, the same sort of savages that I had been used to engage with.\nIn a short time more they rowed a little farther out to sea, till they\ncame directly broadside with us, and then rowed down straight upon us,\ntill they came so near that they could hear us speak; upon this, I\nordered all my men to keep close, lest they should shoot any more\narrows, and made all our guns ready; but being so near as to be within\nhearing, I made Friday go out upon the deck, and call out aloud to them\nin his language, to know what they meant. Whether they understood him or\nnot, that I knew not; but as soon as he had called to them, six of them,\nwho were in the foremost or nearest boat to us, turned their canoes from\nus, and stooping down, showed us their naked backs; whether this was a\ndefiance or challenge we knew not, or whether it was done in mere\ncontempt, or as a signal to the rest; but immediately Friday cried out\nthey were going to shoot, and, unhappily for him, poor fellow, they let\nfly about three hundred of their arrows, and to my inexpressible grief,\nkilled poor Friday, no other man being in their sight. The poor fellow\nwas shot with no less than three arrows, and about three more fell very\nnear him; such unlucky marksmen they were!\nI was so annoyed at the loss of my old trusty servant and companion,\nthat I immediately ordered five guns to be loaded with small shot, and\nfour with great, and gave them such a broadside as they had never heard\nin their lives before. They were not above half a cable\u2019s length off\nwhen we fired; and our gunners took their aim so well, that three or\nfour of their canoes were overset, as we had reason to believe, by one\nshot only. The ill manners of turning up their bare backs to us gave us\nno great offence; neither did I know for certain whether that which\nwould pass for the greatest contempt among us might be understood so by\nthem or not; therefore, in return, I had only resolved to have fired\nfour or five guns at them with powder only, which I knew would frighten\nthem sufficiently: but when they shot at us directly with all the fury\nthey were capable of, and especially as they had killed my poor Friday,\nwhom I so entirely loved and valued, and who, indeed, so well deserved\nit, I thought myself not only justifiable before God and man, but would\nhave been very glad if I could have overset every canoe there, and\ndrowned every one of them.\nI can neither tell how many we killed nor how many we wounded at this\nbroadside, but sure such a fright and hurry never were seen among such a\nmultitude; there were thirteen or fourteen of their canoes split and\noverset in all, and the men all set a-swimming: the rest, frightened out\nof their wits, scoured away as fast as they could, taking but little\ncare to save those whose boats were split or spoiled with our shot; so I\nsuppose that many of them were lost; and our men took up one poor\nfellow swimming for his life; above an hour after they were all gone.\nOur small shot from our cannon must needs kill and wound a great many;\nbut, in short, we never knew any thing how it went with them; for they\nfled so fast that, in three hours, or thereabouts, we could not see\nabove three or four straggling canoes; nor did we ever see the rest any\nmore; for a breeze of wind springing up the same evening, we weighed and\nset sail for the Brasils.\nWe had a prisoner indeed, but the creature was so sullen, that he would\nneither eat nor speak; and we all fancied he would starve himself to\ndeath; but I took a way to cure him; for I made them take him, and turn\nhim into the long-boat, and make him believe they would toss him into\nthe sea again, and so leave him where they found him, if he would not\nspeak: nor would that do, but they really did throw him into the sea,\nand came away from him; and then he followed them, for he swam like a\ncork, and called to them in his tongue, though they knew not one word of\nwhat he said. However, at last, they took him in again, and then he\nbegan to be more tractable; nor did I ever design they should drown him.\nWe were now under sail again; but I was the most disconsolate creature\nalive, for want of my man Friday, and would have been very glad to have\ngone back to the island, to have taken one of the rest from thence for\nmy occasion, but it could not be; so we went on. We had one prisoner, as\nI have said; and it was a long while before we could make him understand\nany thing; but in time, our men taught him some English, and he began to\nbe a little tractable: afterwards we inquired what country he came from,\nbut could make nothing of what he said; for his speech was so odd, all\ngutturals, and spoken in the throat, in such a hollow and odd manner,\nthat we could never form a word from him; and we were all of opinion\nthat they might speak that language as well if they were gagged, as\notherwise; nor could we perceive that they had any occasion either for\nteeth, tongue, lips, or palate; but formed their words just as a\nhunting-horn forms a tune, with an open throat: he told us, however,\nsome time after, when we had taught him to speak a little English, that\nthey were going, with their kings, to fight a great battle. When he said\nkings, we asked him, how many kings? He said, there were five nation (we\ncould not make him understand the plural _s_,) and that they all joined\nto go against two nation. We asked him, What made them come up to us? He\nsaid, \u201cTo makee te great wonder look.\u201d\u2014Where it is to be observed, that\nall those natives, as also those of Africa, when they learn English,\nthey always add two _e_\u2019s at the end of the words where we use one, and\nplace the accent upon the last of them; as _makee, takee_, and the like;\nand we could not break them of it; nay, I could hardly make Friday leave\nit off, though at last he did.\nAnd now I name the poor fellow once more, I must take my last leave of\nhim; poor honest Friday! We buried him with all decency and solemnity\npossible, by putting him into a coffin, and throwing him into the sea;\nand I caused them to fire eleven guns for him: and so ended the life of\nthe most grateful, faithful, honest, and most affectionate servant that\never man had.\nWe now went away with a fair wind for Brasil, and, in about twelve days\ntime, we made land in the latitude of five degrees south of the line,\nbeing the north-easternmost land of all that part of America. We kept on\nS. by E. in sight of the shore four days, when we made the Cape St.\nAugustine, and in three days came to an anchor off the bay of All\nSaints, the old place of my deliverance, from whence came both my good\nand evil fate.\nNever did a ship come to this part that had less business than I had;\nand yet it was with great difficulty that we were admitted to hold the\nleast correspondence on shore. Not my partner himself, who was alive,\nand made a great figure among them, not my two merchant trustees, nor\nthe fame of my wonderful preservation in the island, could obtain me\nthat favour; but my partner remembering that I had given five hundred\nmoidores to the prior of the monastery of the Augustines, and three\nhundred and seventy-two to the poor, went to the monastery, and obliged\nthe prior that then was, to go to the governor, and beg leave for me\npresently, with the captain, and one more, besides eight seamen, to come\non shore, and no more; and this upon condition absolutely capitulated\nfor, that we should not offer to land any goods out of the ship, or to\ncarry any person away without licence.\nThey were so strict with us, as to landing any goods, that it was with\nextreme difficulty that I got on shore three bales of English goods,\nsuch as fine broad-cloths, stuffs, and some linen, which I had brought\nfor a present to my partner.\nHe was a very generous, broad-hearted man, though (like me) he came from\nlittle at first; and though he knew not that I had the least design of\ngiving him any thing, he sent me on board a present of fresh provisions,\nwine, and sweetmeats, worth above thirty moidores, including some\ntobacco, and three or four fine medals in gold. But I was even with him\nin my present, which, as I have said, consisted of fine broad-cloth,\nEnglish stuffs, lace, and fine Hollands. Also, I delivered him about the\nvalue of 100_l_. sterling, in the same goods, for other uses: and I\nobliged him to set up the sloop which I had brought with me from\nEngland, as I have said, for the use of my colony, in order to send the\nrefreshments I intended to my plantation.\nAccordingly he got hands, and finished the sloop in a very few days, for\nshe was already framed; and I gave the master of her such instruction as\nhe could not miss the place; nor did he miss it, as I had an account\nfrom my partner afterwards. I got him soon loaded with the small cargo I\nhad sent them; and one of our seamen, that had been on shore with me\nthere, offered to go with the sloop, and settle there, upon my letter\nto the governor Spaniard, to allot him a sufficient quantity of land for\na plantation; and giving him some clothes, and tools for his planting\nwork, which he said he understood, having been an old planter in\nMaryland, and a buccaneer into the bargain.\nI encouraged the fellow by granting all he desired; and, as an addition,\nI gave him the savage which we had taken prisoner of war, to be his\nslave, and ordered the governor Spaniard to give him his share of\neverything he wanted, with the rest.\nWhen we came to fit this man out, my old partner told me, there was a\ncertain very honest fellow, a Brasil planter of his acquaintance, who\nhad fallen into the displeasure of the church: \u201cI know not what the\nmatter is with him,\u201d says he, \u201cbut, on my conscience, I think he is a\nheretic in his heart; and he has been obliged to conceal himself for\nfear of the Inquisition;\u201d that he would be very glad of such an\nopportunity to make his escape, with his wife and two daughters; and if\nI would let them go to the island, and allot them a plantation, he would\ngive them a small stock to begin with; for the officers of the\nInquisition had seized all his effects and estate, and he had nothing\nleft but a little household stuff, and two slaves; \u201cAnd,\u201d adds he,\n\u201cthough I hate his principles, yet I would not have him fall into their\nhands, for he will assuredly be burnt alive if he does.\u201d\nI granted this presently, and joined my Englishman with them; and we\nconcealed the man, and his wife and daughters, on board our ship, till\nthe sloop put out to go to sea; and then (having put all their goods on\nboard the sloop some time before) we put them on board the sloop, after\nshe was got out of the bay.\nOur seaman was mightily pleased with this new partner; and their stock,\nindeed, was much alike, rich in tools, and in preparations, for a farm;\nbut nothing to begin with, but as above. However, they carried over with\nthem (which was worth all the rest) some materials for planting\nsugar-canes, with some plants of canes; which he (I mean the Portugal\nman) understood very well.\nAmong the rest of the supplies sent my tenants in the island, I sent\nthem, by this sloop, three milch-cows and five calves, about twenty-two\nhogs, among them, three sows big with pig, two mares, and a stone-horse.\nFor my Spaniards, according to my promise, I engaged three Portugal\nwomen to go; and recommended it to them to marry them, and use them\nkindly. I could have procured more women, but I remembered that the poor\npersecuted man had two daughters, and there were but five of the\nSpaniards that wanted; the rest had wives of their own, though in\nanother country.\nAll this cargo arrived safe, and, as you may easily suppose, very\nwelcome to my old inhabitants, who were now (with this addition) between\nsixty and seventy people, besides little children; of which there were a\ngreat many: I found letters at London from them all, by way of Lisbon,\nwhen I came back to England, being sent back to the Brasils by this\nsloop; of which I shall take some notice in its place.\nI have now done with my island, and all manner of discourse about it;\nand whoever reads the rest of my memorandums, would do well to turn his\nthoughts entirely from it, and expect to read only of the follies of an\nold man, not warned by his own harms, much less by those of other men,\nto beware of the like; not cooled by almost forty years misery and\ndisappointments; not satisfied with prosperity beyond expectation; not\nmade cautious by affliction and distress beyond irritation.\nI had no more business to go to the East Indies, than a man at full\nliberty, and having committed no crime, has to go to the turnkey at\nNewgate, and desire him to lock him up among the prisoners there, and\nstarve him. Had I taken a small vessel from England, and gone directly\nto the island; had I loaded her, as I did the other vessel, with all the\nnecessaries for the plantation, and for my people; took a patent from\nthe government here, to have secured my property, in subjection only to\nthat of England, which, to be sure, I might have obtained; had I carried\nover cannon and ammunition, servants, and people to plant, and, taking\npossession of the place, fortified and strengthened it in the name of\nEngland, and increased it with people, as I might easily have done; had\nI then settled myself there, and sent the ship back, loaded with good\nrice, as I might also have done in six months time, and ordered my\nfriends to have fitted her out again for our supply; had I done this,\nand staid there myself, I had, at least, acted like a man of common\nsense; but I was possessed with a wandering spirit, scorned all\nadvantages, pleased myself with being the patron of these people I had\nplaced there, and doing for them in a kind of haughty majestic way, like\nan old patriarchal monarch; providing for them, as if I had been father\nof the whole family, as well as of the plantation: but I never so much\nas pretended to plant in the name of any government or nation, or to\nacknowledge any prince, or to call my people subjects to any one nation\nmore than another; nay, I never so much as gave the place a name; but\nleft it as I found it, belonging to no man; and the people under no\ndiscipline or government but my own; who, though I had an influence over\nthem as father and benefactor, had no authority or power to act or\ncommand one way or other, farther than voluntary consent moved them to\ncomply: yet even this, had I staid there, would have done well enough;\nbut as I rambled from them, and came thither no more, the last letters I\nhad from any of them, were by my partner\u2019s means, who afterwards sent\nanother sloop to the place; and who sent me word, though I had not the\nletter till five years after it was written, that they went on but\npoorly, were malecontent with their long stay there; that Will Atkins\nwas dead; that five of the Spaniards were come away; and that though\nthey had not been much molested by the savages, yet they had had some\nskirmishes with them; that they begged of him to write to me to think\nof the promise I had made to fetch them away, that they might see their\nown country again before they died.\nBut I was gone a wild-goose chase indeed, and they who will have any\nmore of me, must be content to follow me through a new variety of\nfollies, hardships, and wild adventures; wherein the justice of\nProvidence may be duly observed, and we may see how easily Heaven can\ngorge us with our own desires, make the strongest of our wishes to be\nour affliction and punish us most severely with those very things which\nwe think it would be our utmost happiness to be allowed in.\nLet no wise man flatter himself with the strength of his own judgment,\nas if he was able to choose any particular station of life for himself.\nMan is a short-sighted creature, sees but a very little way before him;\nand as his passions are none of his best friends, so his particular\naffections are generally his worst counsellors.\nI say this with respect to the impetuous desire I had from a youth to\nwander into the world, and how evident it now was that this principle\nwas preserved in me for my punishment. How it came on, the manner, the\ncircumstance, and the conclusion of it, it is easy to give you\nhistorically, and with its utmost variety of particulars. But the secret\nends of Divine Providence, in thus permitting us to be hurried down the\nstream of our own desires, are only to be understood of those who can\nlisten to the voice of Providence, and draw religious consequences from\nGod\u2019s justice and their own mistakes.\nBe it had I business or no business, away I went. It is no time now to\nenlarge any farther upon the reason or absurdity of my own conduct; but\nto come to the history\u2014I was embarked for the voyage, and the voyage\nI went.\nI shall only add here, that my honest and truly pious clergyman left me\nhere; a ship being ready to go to Lisbon, he asked me leave to go\nthither; being still as he observed, bound never to finish any voyage\nhe began. How happy had it been for me if I had gone with him!\nBut it was too late now; all things Heaven appoints are best. Had I gone\nwith him, I had never had so many things to be thankful for, and you had\nnever heard of the Second Part of the Travels and Adventures of Robinson\nCrusoe; so I must leave here the fruitless exclaiming at myself, and go\non with my voyage.\nFrom the Brasils we made directly away over the Atlantic sea to the Cape\nde Bonne Esperance, or, as we call it, the Cape of Good Hope; and had a\ntolerable good voyage, our course generally south-east; now and then a\nstorm, and some contrary winds. But my disasters at sea were at an end;\nmy future rubs and cross events were to befal me on shore; that it might\nappear the land was as well prepared to be our scourge as the sea, when\nHeaven, who directs the circumstances of things, pleases to appoint\nit to be so.\nOur ship was on a trading voyage, and had a supercargo on board, who was\nto direct all her motions after she arrived at the Cape; only being\nlimited to a certain number of days for stay, by charter-party, at the\nseveral ports she was to go to. This was none of my business, neither\ndid I meddle with it at all; my nephew the captain, and the supercargo,\nadjusting all those things between them as they thought fit.\nWe made no stay at the Cape longer than was needful to take in fresh\nwater, but made the best of our way for the coast of Coromandel; we were\nindeed informed that a French man of war of fifty guns and two large\nmerchant-ships were gone for the Indies; and as I knew we were at war\nwith France, I had some apprehensions of them; but they went their own\nway, and we heard no more of them.\nI shall not pester my account, or the reader, with descriptions of\nplaces, journals of our voyages, variations of the compass, latitudes,\nmeridian distances, trade-winds, situation of ports, and the like; such\nas almost all the histories of long navigation are full of, and which\nmake the reading tiresome enough, and are perfectly unprofitable to all\nthat read, except only to those who are to go to those places\nthemselves.\nIt is enough to name the ports and places which we touched at, and what\noccurred to us upon our passing from one to another. We touched first at\nthe island of Madagascar, where, though the people are fierce and\ntreacherous, and, in particular, very well armed with lances and bows,\nwhich they use with inconceivable dexterity, yet we fared very well with\nthem awhile; they treated us very civilly; and for some trifles which we\ngave them, such as knives, scissors, &c. they brought us eleven good fat\nbullocks, middling in size, but very good in flesh, which we took in,\npartly for fresh provisions for our present spending, and the rest to\nsalt for the ship\u2019s use.\nWe were obliged to stay here for some time after we had furnished\nourselves with provisions; and I that was always too curious to look\ninto every nook of the world wherever I came, was for going on shore as\noften as I could. It was on the east side of the island that we went on\nshore one evening, and the people, who by the way are very numerous,\ncame thronging about us, and stood gazing at us at a distance; as we had\ntraded freely with them, and had been kindly used, we thought ourselves\nin no danger; but when we saw the people we cut three boughs out of a\ntree, and stuck them up at a distance from us, which, it seems, is a\nmark in the country not only of truce and friendship, but when it is\naccepted, the other side set up three poles or boughs also, which is a\nsignal that they accept the truce too; but then this is a known\ncondition of the truce, that you are not to pass beyond their three\npoles towards them, nor they come past your three poles or boughs\ntowards you; so that you are perfectly secure within the three poles,\nand all the space between your poles and theirs is allowed like a market\nfor free converse, traffic, and commerce. When you go thither you must\nnot carry your weapons with you; and if they come into that space they\nstick up their javelins and lances all at the first poles, and come on\nunarmed; but if any violence is offered them, and the truce thereby\nbroken, away they run to the poles and lay hold of their weapons, and\nthen the truce is at an end.\nIt happened one evening when we went on shore, that a greater number of\ntheir people came down than usual, but all was very friendly and civil.\nThey brought with them several kinds of provisions, for which we\nsatisfied them with such toys as we had; their women also brought us\nmilk and roots, and several things very acceptable to us, and all was\nquiet; and we made us a little tent or hut, of some boughs of trees, and\nlay on shore all that night.\nI know not what was the occasion, but I was not so well satisfied to lie\non shore as the rest; and the boat lying at an anchor about a stone\u2019s\ncast from the land, with two men in her to take care of her, I made one\nof them come on shore, and getting some boughs of trees to cover us also\nin the boat, I spread the sail on the bottom of the boat, and lay on\nboard, under the cover of the branches of the trees, all night.\nAbout two o\u2019clock in the morning we heard one of our men make a terrible\nnoise on the shore, calling out for God\u2019s sake to bring the boat in, and\ncome and help them, for they were all like to be murdered; at the same\ntime I heard the firing of five muskets, which was the number of the\nguns they had, and that three times over; for, it seems, the natives\nhere were not so easily frighted with guns as the savages were in\nAmerica, where I had to do with them.\nAll this while I knew not what was the matter; but rousing immediately\nfrom sleep with the noise, I caused the boat to be thrust in, and\nresolved, with three fusils we had on board, to land and assist our men.\nWe got the boat soon to the shore; but our men were in too much haste;\nfor being come to the shore, they plunged into the water to get to the\nboat with all the expedition they could, being pursued by between three\nand four hundred men. Our men were but nine in all, and only five of\nthem had fusils with them; the rest, indeed, had pistols and swords, but\nthey were of small use to them.\nWe took up seven of our men, and with difficulty enough too, three of\nthem being very ill wounded; and that which was still worse was, that\nwhile we stood in the boat to take our men in, we were in as much danger\nas they were in on shore; for they poured their arrows in upon us so\nthick, that we were fain to barricade the side of the boat up with the\nbenches and two or three loose boards, which to our great satisfaction\nwe had by mere accident, or providence rather, in the boat.\nAnd yet had it been daylight, they are, it seems, such exact marksmen,\nthat if they could have seen but the least part of any of us, they would\nhave been sure of us. We had, by the light of the moon, a little sight\nof them as they stood pelting us from the shore with darts and arrows,\nand having got ready our fire-arms, we gave them a volley, and we could\nhear by the cries of some of them, that we had wounded several; however,\nthey stood thus in battle array on the shore till break of day, which we\nsuppose was that they might see the better to take their aim at us.\nIn this condition we lay, and could not tell how to weigh our anchor, or\nset up our sail, because we must needs stand up in the boat, and they\nwere as sure to hit us as we were to hit a bird in a tree with small\nshot. We made signals of distress to the ship, which though she rode a\nleague off, yet my nephew, the captain, hearing our firing, and by\nglasses perceiving the posture we lay in, and that we fired towards the\nshore, pretty well understood us; and weighing anchor with all speed, he\nstood as near the shore as he durst with the ship, and then sent another\nboat with ten hands in her to assist us; but we called to them not to\ncome too near, telling them what condition we were in; however, they\nstood in nearer to us; and one of the men taking the end of a tow-line\nin his hand, and keeping our boat between him and the enemy, so that\nthey could not perfectly see him, swam on board us, and made the line\nfast to the boat, upon which we slipt our little cable, and leaving our\nanchor behind, they towed us out of the reach of the arrows, we all the\nwhile lying close behind the barricade we had made.\nAs soon as we were got from between the ship and the shore, that she\ncould lay her side to the shore, we ran along just by them, and we\npoured in a broadside among them, loaded with pieces of iron and lead,\nsmall bullets, and such stuff, besides the great shot, which made a\nterrible havoc among them.\nWhen we were got on board and out of danger, we had time to examine into\nthe occasion of this fray; and indeed our supercargo, who had been often\nin those parts, put me upon it; for he said he was sure the inhabitants\nwould not have touched us after we had made a truce, if we had not done\nsomething to provoke them to it. At length it came out, viz. that an old\nwoman, who had come to sell us some milk, had brought it within our\npoles, with a young woman with her, who also brought some roots or\nherbs; and while the old woman (whether she was mother to the young\nwoman or no they could not tell) was selling us the milk, one of our men\noffered some rudeness to the wench that was with her, at which the old\nwoman made a great noise. However, the seaman would not quit his prize,\nbut carried her out of the old woman\u2019s sight, among the trees, it being\nalmost dark. The old woman went away without her, and, as we suppose,\nmade an outcry among the people she came from; who, upon notice, raised\nthis great army upon us in three or four hours; and it was great odds\nbut we had been all destroyed.\nOne of our men was killed with a lance that was thrown at him, just at\nthe beginning of the attack, as he sallied out of the tent we had made;\nthe rest came off free, all but the fellow who was the occasion of all\nthe mischief, who paid dear enough for his black mistress, for we could\nnot hear what became of him a great while. We lay upon the shore two\ndays after, though the wind presented, and made signals for him; made\nour boat sail up shore and down shore several leagues, but in vain; so\nwe were obliged to give him over; and if he alone had suffered for it,\nthe loss had been the less.\nI could not satisfy myself, however, without venturing on shore once\nmore, to try if I could learn any thing of him or them. It was the third\nnight after the action that I had a great mind to learn, if I could by\nany means, what mischief he had done, and how the game stood on the\nIndian side. I was careful to do it in the dark, lest we should be\nattacked again; but I ought indeed to have been sure that the men I went\nwith had been under my command before I engaged in a thing so hazardous\nand mischievous, as I was brought into it without my knowledge\nor desire.\nWe took twenty stout fellows with us as any in the ship, besides the\nsupercargo and myself; and we landed two hours before midnight, at the\nsame place where the Indians stood drawn up the evening before. I landed\nhere, because my design, as I have said, was chiefly to see if they had\nquitted the field, and if they had left any marks behind them, or of the\nmischief we had done them; and I thought if we could surprise one or two\nof them, perhaps we might get our man again by way of exchange.\nWe landed without any noise, and divided our men into two companies,\nwhereof the boatswain commanded one, and I the other. We neither could\nhear nor see any body stir when we landed; so we marched up, one body at\na distance from the other, to the field of battle. At first we could see\nnothing, it being very dark; but by and by our boatswain, that led the\nfirst party, stumbled and fell over a dead body. This made them halt\nthere awhile; for knowing by the circumstances that they were at the\nplace where the Indians had stood, they waited for my coming up. Here\nwe concluded to halt till the moon began to rise, which we knew would be\nin less than an hour, and then we could easily discern the havoc we had\nmade among them. We told two-and-thirty bodies upon the ground, whereof\ntwo were not quite dead. Some had an arm, and some a leg, shot off, and\none his head; those that were wounded we supposed they had carried away.\nWhen we had made, as I thought, a full discovery of all we could come at\nthe knowledge of, I was for going on board again; but the boatswain and\nhis party often sent me word, that they were resolved to make a visit to\nthe Indian town, where these dogs, as they called them, dwelt, and\ndesired me to go along with them, and if they could find them, as they\nstill fancied they should, they did not doubt, they said, getting a good\nbooty, and it might be they might find Thomas Jeffrys there, that was\nthe man\u2019s name we had lost.\nHad they sent to ask my leave to go, I knew well enough what answer to\nhave given them; for I would have commanded them instantly on board,\nknowing it was not a hazard fit for us to run who had a ship and a\nship\u2019s loading in our charge, and a voyage to make, which depended very\nmuch upon the lives of the men; but as they sent me word they were\nresolved to go, and only asked me and my company to go along with them,\nI positively refused it, and rose up (for I was sitting on the ground)\nin order to go to the boat. One or two of the men began to importune me\nto go, and when I still refused positively, began to grumble, and say\nthey were not under my command, and they would go. \u201cCome, Jack,\u201d says\none of the men, \u201cwill you go with me? I will go for one.\u201d Jack said he\nwould; and another followed, and then another; and, in a word, they all\nleft me but one, whom, with much difficulty too, I persuaded to stay; so\nthe supercargo and I, with one man, went back to the boat, where, I\ntold them, we would stay for them, and take care to take in as many of\nthem as should be left; for I told them it was a mad thing they were\ngoing about, and supposed most of them would run the fate of\nThomas Jeffrys.\nThey told me, like seamen, they would warrant it they would come off\nagain, and they would take care, &c. So away they went. I entreated them\nto consider the ship and the voyage; that their lives were not their\nown; and that they were entrusted with the voyage in some measure; that\nif they miscarried, the ship might be lost for want of their help; and\nthat they could not answer it to God and man. I said a great deal more\nto them on that head, but I might as well have talked to the main-mast\nof the ship; they were mad upon their journey; only they gave me good\nwords, and begged I would not be angry; said they would be very\ncautious, and they did not doubt but they would be back again in about\nan hour at farthest; for the Indian town, they said, was not above half\na mile off; though they found it above two miles before they got to it.\nWell, they all went away as above; and though the attempt was desperate,\nand such as none but madmen would have gone about, yet, to give them\ntheir due, they went about it warily as well as boldly. They were\ngallantly armed, that is true; for they had every man a fusil or musket,\na bayonet, and every man a pistol; some of them had broad cutlasses,\nsome of them hangers, and the boatswain and two more had pole-axes;\nbesides all which they had among them thirteen hand-grenadoes. Bolder\nfellows, and better provided, never went about any wicked work in\nthe world.\nWhen they went out their chief design was plunder, and they were in\nmighty hopes of finding gold there; but a circumstance, which none of\nthem were aware of, set them on fire with revenge, and made devils of\nthem all. When they came to the few Indian houses, which they thought\nhad been the town, which were not above half a mile off, they were under\na great disappointment; for there were not above twelve or thirteen\nhouses; and where the town was, or how big, they knew not. They\nconsulted therefore what to do, and were some time before they could\nresolve; for if they fell upon these they must cut all their throats,\nand it was ten to one but some of them might escape, it being in the\nnight, though the moon was up; and if one escaped he would run away, and\nraise all the town, so they should have a whole army upon them. Again,\non the other hand, if they went away, and left those untouched (for the\npeople were all asleep), they could not tell which way to look for\nthe town.\nHowever, the last was the best advice; so they resolved to leave those\nhouses, and look for the town as well as they could. They went on a\nlittle way, and found a cow tied to a tree: this they presently\nconcluded would be a good guide to them; for they said the cow certainly\nbelonged to the town before them or the town behind them, and if they\nuntied her they should see which way she went: if she went back they had\nnothing to say to her, but if she went forward they had nothing to do\nbut to follow her; so they cut the cord, which was made of twisted\nflags, and the cow went on before them. In a word, the cow led them\ndirectly to the town, which, as they reported, consisted of above two\nhundred houses or huts; and in some of these they found several families\nliving together.\nHere they found all silent; as profoundly secure as sleep and a country\nthat had never seen an enemy of that kind could make them. Upon this\nthey called another council to consider what they had to do, and in a\nword they resolved to divide themselves into three bodies, and to set\nthree houses on fire in three parts of the town; and as the men came\nout, to seize them and bind them; if any resisted, they need not be\nasked what to do then, and so to search the rest of the houses for\nplunder; but resolved to march silently first through the town, and see\nwhat dimensions it was of, and consider if they might venture upon it\nor no.\nThey did so, and desperately resolved that they would venture upon them;\nbut while they were animating one another to the work, three of them\nthat were a little before the rest called out aloud, and told them they\nhad found Thomas Jeffrys; they all ran up to the place; and so it was\nindeed, for there they found the poor fellow, hanged up naked by one\narm, and his throat cut. There was an Indian house just by the tree,\nwhere they found sixteen or seventeen of the principal Indians who had\nbeen concerned in the fray with us before, and two or three of them\nwounded with our shot; and our men found they were awake, and talking\none to another in that house, but knew not their number.\nThe sight of their poor mangled comrade so enraged them, as before, that\nthey swore to one another they would be revenged, and that not an Indian\nwho came into their hands should have quarter; and to work they went\nimmediately, and yet not so madly as by the rage and fury they were in\nmight be expected. Their first care was to get something that would soon\ntake fire; but after a little search they found that would be to no\npurpose, for most of the houses were low, and thatched with flags or\nrushes, of which the country is full: so they presently made some\nwildfire, as we call it, by wetting a little powder in the palms of\ntheir hands; and in a quarter of an hour they set the town on fire in\nfour or five places, and particularly that house where the Indians were\nnot gone to bed. As soon as the fire began to blaze, the poor frighted\ncreatures began to rush out to save their lives, but met with their fate\nin the attempt, and especially at the door, where they drove them back,\nthe boatswain himself killing one or two with his pole-axe; the house\nbeing large, and many in it, he did not care to go in, but called for an\nhand-grenado, and threw it among them, which at first frighted them; but\nwhen it burst made such havoc among them, that they cried out in a\nhideous manner.\nIn short, most of the Indians who were in the open part of the house,\nwere killed or hurt with the grenado, except two or three more, who\npressed to the door, which the boatswain and two more kept with the\nbayonets in the muzzles of their pieces, and dispatched all who came\nthat way. But there was another apartment in the house, where the\nprince, or king, or whatsoever he was, and several others, were; and\nthey kept in till the house, which was by this time all of a light\nflame, fell in upon them, and they were smothered or burnt together.\nAll this while they fired not a gun, because they would not waken the\npeople faster than they could master them; but the fire began to waken\nthem fast enough, and our fellows were glad to keep a little together in\nbodies; for the fire grew so raging, all the houses being made of light\ncombustible stuff, that they could hardly bear the street between them,\nand their business was to follow the fire for the surer execution. As\nfast as the fire either forced the people out of those houses which were\nburning, or frighted them out of others, our people were ready at their\ndoors to knock them on the head, still calling and hallooing to one\nanother to remember Thomas Jeffrys.\nWhile this was doing I must confess I was very uneasy, and especially\nwhen I saw the flames of the town, which, it being night, seemed to be\njust by me.\nMy nephew the captain, who was roused by his men too, seeing such a\nfire, was very uneasy, not knowing what the matter was, or what danger I\nwas in; especially hearing the guns too, for by this time they began to\nuse their fire-arms. A thousand thoughts oppressed his mind concerning\nme and the supercargo, what should become of us; and at last, though he\ncould ill spare any more men, yet, not knowing what exigence we might be\nin, he takes another boat, and with thirteen men and himself comes on\nshore to me.\nHe was surprised to see me and the supercargo in the boat with no more\nthan two men, for one had been left to keep the boat; and though he was\nglad that we were well, yet he was in the same impatience with us to\nknow what was doing, for the noise continued and the flame increased. I\nconfess it was next to an impossibility for any men in the world to\nrestrain their curiosity of knowing what had happened, or their concern\nfor the safety of the men. In a word, the captain told me he would go\nand help his men, let what would come. I argued with him, as I did\nbefore with the men, the safety of the ship, and the danger of the\nvoyage, the interest of the owners and merchants, &c. and told him I\nwould go, and the two men, and only see if we could, at a distance,\nlearn what was like to be the event, and come back and tell him.\nIt was all one to talk to my nephew, as it was to talk to the rest\nbefore; he would go, he said, and he only wished he had left but ten men\nin the ship, for he could not think of having his men lost for want of\nhelp; he had rather, he said, lose the ship, the voyage, and his life,\nand all: and so away went he.\nNor was I any more able to stay behind now than I was to persuade them\nnot to go before; so, in short, the captain ordered two men to row back\nthe pinnace, and fetch twelve men more from the ship, leaving the\nlong-boat at an anchor; and that when they came back six men should keep\nthe two boats, and six more come after us, so that he left only sixteen\nmen in the ship; for the whole ship\u2019s company consisted of sixty-five\nmen, whereof two were lost in the first quarrel which brought this\nmischief on.\nBeing now on the march, you may be sure we felt little of the ground we\ntrod on, and being guided by the fire we kept no path, but went directly\nto the place of the flame. If the noise of the guns were surprising to\nus before, the cries of the poor people were now quite of another\nnature, and filled us with horror. I must confess I never was at the\nsacking of a city, or at the taking of a town by storm; I have heard of\nOliver Cromwell taking Drogheda in Ireland, and killing man, woman, and\nchild; and I had read of Count Tilly sacking the city of Magdebourg, and\ncutting the throats of 22,000 of both sexes; but I never had an idea of\nthe thing itself before, nor is it possible to describe it, or the\nhorror which was upon our minds at hearing it.\nHowever, we went on, and at length came to the town, though there was no\nentering the streets of it for the fire. The first object we met with\nwas the ruins of a hut or house, or rather the ashes of it, for the\nhouse was consumed; and just before it, plain now to be seen by the\nlight of the fire, lay four men and three women killed; and, as we\nthought, one or two more lay in the heap among the fire. In short, these\nwere such instances of a rage altogether barbarous, and of a fury\nsomething beyond what was human, that we thought it impossible our men\ncould be guilty of it; or if they were the authors of it, we thought\nthat every one of them ought to be put to the worst of deaths: but this\nwas not all; we saw the fire increased forward, and the cry went on just\nas the fire went on, so that we were in the utmost confusion. We\nadvanced a little way farther, and beheld to our astonishment three\nwomen naked, crying in a most dreadful manner, and flying as if they had\nindeed had wings, and after them sixteen or seventeen men, natives, in\nthe same terror and consternation, with three of our English butchers\n(for I can call them no better) in the rear, who, when they could not\novertake them, fired in among them, and one that was killed by their\nshot fell down in our sight: when the rest saw us, believing us to be\ntheir enemies; and that we would murder them as well as those that\npursued them, they set up a most dreadful shriek, especially the women,\nand two of them fell down as if already dead with the fright.\nMy very soul shrunk within me, and my blood ran chill in my veins, when\nI saw this; and I believe had the three English sailors that pursued\nthem come on, I had made our men kill them all. However, we took some\nways to let the poor flying creatures know that we would not hurt them,\nand immediately they came up to us, and kneeling down, with their hands\nlifted up, made piteous lamentations to us to save them, which we let\nthem know we would do; where upon they kept all together in a huddle\nclose behind us for protection. I left my men drawn up together, and\ncharged them to hurt nobody, but if possible to get at some of our\npeople, and see what devil it was possessed them, and what they intended\nto do; and in a word to command them off, assuring them that if they\nstaid till daylight they would have a hundred thousand men about their\nears: I say, I left them and went among those flying people, taking only\ntwo of our men with me; and there was indeed a piteous spectacle among\nthem: some of them had their feet terribly burnt with trampling and\nrunning through the fire, others their hands burnt; one of the women had\nfallen down in the fire, and was almost burnt to death before she could\nget out again; two or three of the men had cuts in their backs and\nthighs, from our men pursuing, and another was shot through the body,\nand died while I was there.\nI would fain have learnt what the occasion of all this was, but I could\nnot understand one word they said, though by signs I perceived that some\nof them knew not what was the occasion themselves. I was so terrified in\nmy thoughts at this outrageous attempt, that I could not stay there, but\nwent back to my own men: I told them my resolution, and commanded them\nto follow me, when in the very moment came four of our men, with the\nboatswain at their head, running over the heaps of bodies they had\nkilled, all covered with blood and dust, as if they wanted more people\nto massacre, when our men hallooed to them as loud as they could halloo,\nand with much ado one of them made them hear, so that they knew who we\nwere, and came up to us.\nAs soon as the boatswain saw us he set up a halloo, like a shout of\ntriumph, for having, as he thought, more help come; and without bearing\nto hear me, \u201cCaptain,\u201d says he, \u201cnoble captain, I am glad you are come;\nwe have not half done yet: villains! hell-hound dogs! I will kill as\nmany of them as poor Tom has hairs upon his head. We have sworn to spare\nnone of them; we will root out the very name of them from the earth.\u201d\nAnd thus he ran on, out of breath too with action, and would not give us\nleave to speak a word.\nAt last, raising my voice, that I might silence him a little, \u201cBarbarous\ndog!\u201d said I, \u201cwhat are you doing? I won\u2019t have one creature touched\nmore upon pain of death. I charge you upon your life to stop your hands,\nand stand still here, or you are a dead man this minute.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cdo you know what you do, or what they have done?\nIf you want a reason for what we have done, come hither;\u201d and with that\nhe shewed me the poor fellow hanging upon a tree, with his throat cut.\nI confess I was urged then myself, and at another time should have been\nforward enough; but I thought they had carried their rage too far, and\nthought of Jacob\u2019s words to his sons Simeon and Levi, \u201cCursed be their\nanger, for it was fierce; and their wrath, for it was cruel.\u201d But I had\nnow a new task upon my hands; for when the men I carried with me saw the\nsight as I had done, I had as much to do to restrain them, as I should\nhave had with the others; nay, my nephew himself fell in with them, and\ntold me in their hearing, that he was only concerned for fear of the men\nbeing overpowered; for, as to the people, he thought not one of them\nought to live; for they had all glutted themselves with the murder of\nthe poor man, and that they ought to be used like murderers. Upon these\nwords away ran eight of my men with the boatswain and his crew to\ncomplete their bloody work; and I, seeing it quite out of my power to\nrestrain them, came away pensive and sad, for I could not bear the\nsight, much less the horrible noise and cries of the poor wretches that\nfell into their hands.\nI got nobody to come back with me but the supercargo and two men, and\nwith these I walked back to the boats. It was a very great piece of\nfolly in me, I confess, to venture back as it were alone; for as it\nbegan now to be almost day, and the alarm had run over the country,\nthere stood about forty men armed with lances and bows at the little\nplace where the twelve or thirteen houses stood mentioned before, but by\naccident I missed the place, and came directly to the sea-side; and by\nthat time I got to the sea-side it was broad day: immediately I took the\npinnace and went aboard, and sent her back to assist the men in what\nmight happen.\nI observed that about the time I came to the boat-side the fire was\npretty well out, and the noise abated; but in about half an hour after I\ngot on board I heard a volley of our men\u2019s fire-arms, and saw a great\nsmoke; this, as I understood afterwards, was our men falling upon the\nforty men, who, as I said, stood at the few houses on the way; of whom\nthey killed sixteen or seventeen, and set all those houses on fire, but\ndid not meddle with the women or children.\nBy the time the men got to the shore again with the pinnace our men\nbegan to appear; they came dropping in some and some, not in two bodies,\nand in form, as they went out, but all in heaps, straggling here and\nthere in such a manner that a small force of resolute men might have cut\nthem all off.\nBut the dread of them was upon the whole country. The people were amazed\nand surprised, and so frighted that I believe a hundred of them would\nhave fled at the sight of but five of our men. Nor in all this terrible\naction was there a man who made any considerable defence; they were so\nsurprised between the terror of the fire, and the sudden attack of our\nmen in the dark, that they knew not which way to turn themselves; for if\nthey fled one way they were met by one party, if back again by another;\nso that they were every where knocked down. Nor did any of our men\nreceive the least hurt, except one who strained his foot, and another\nhad one of his hands very much burnt.\nI was very angry with my nephew the captain, and indeed with all the\nmen, in my mind, but with him in particular, as well for his acting so\nout of his duty, as commander of the ship, and having the charge of the\nvoyage upon him, as in his prompting rather than cooling the rage of his\nmen in so bloody and cruel an enterprise: my nephew answered me very\nrespectfully, but told me that when he saw the body of the poor seaman\nwhom they had murdered in such a cruel and barbarous manner, he was not\nmaster of himself, neither could he govern his passion; he owned he\nshould not have done so, as he was commander of the ship, but as he was\na man, and nature moved him, he could not bear it. As for the rest of\nthe men, they were not subject to me at all, and they knew it well\nenough, so they took no notice of my dislike.\nThe next day we set sail, so we never heard any more of it. Our men\ndiffered in the account of the number they killed; some said one thing,\nsome another; but according to the best of their accounts, put all\ntogether, they killed or destroyed about a hundred and fifty people,\nmen, women, and children, and left not a house standing in the town.\nAs for the poor fellow, Thomas Jeffrys, as he was quite dead, for his\nthroat was so cut that his head was half off, it would do him no service\nto bring him away; so they left him where they found him, only took him\ndown from the tree where he was hanged by one hand.\nHowever just our men thought this action to be, I was against them in\nit, and I always after that time told them God would blast the voyage;\nfor I looked upon the blood they shed that night to be murder in them:\nfor though it is true that they killed Thomas Jeffrys, yet it was as\ntrue that Jeffrys was the aggressor, had broken the truce, and had\nviolated or debauched a young woman of theirs, who came to our camp\ninnocently, and on the faith of their capitulation.\nThe boatswain defended this quarrel when we were afterwards on board. He\nsaid, it was true that we seemed to break the truce, but really had not,\nand that the war was begun the night before by the natives themselves,\nwho had shot at us, and killed one of our men without any just\nprovocation; so that as we were in a capacity to fight them, we might\nalso be in a capacity to do ourselves justice upon them in an\nextraordinary manner; that though the poor man had taken liberty with a\nwench, he ought not to have been murdered, and that in such a villanous\nmanner; and that they did nothing but what was just, and that the laws\nof God allowed to be done to murderers.\nOne would think this should have been enough to have warned us against\ngoing on shore among heathens and barbarians; but it is impossible to\nmake mankind wise but at their own experience; and their experience\nseems to be always of most use to them when it is dearest bought.\nWe were now bound to the Gulf of Persia, and from thence to the coast of\nCoromandel, only to touch at Surat; but the chief of the supercargo\u2019s\ndesign lay at the Bay of Bengal, where if he missed of the business\noutward-bound he was to go up to China, and return to the coast as he\ncame home.\nThe first disaster that befel us was in the Gulf of Persia, where five\nof our men venturing on shore on the Arabian side of the Gulf were\nsurrounded by the Arabs, and either all killed or carried away into\nslavery; the rest of the boat\u2019s crew were not able to rescue them, and\nhad but just time to get off their boat. I began to upbraid them with\nthe just retribution of Heaven in this case; but the boatswain very\nwarmly told me, he thought I went farther in my censures than I could\nshow any warrant for in Scripture, and referred to the thirteenth of St.\nLuke, ver. 4, where our Saviour intimates that those men on whom the\ntower of Siloam fell, were not sinners above all the Galileans; but that\nwhich indeed put me to silence in this case was, that none of these five\nmen who were now lost were of the number of those who went on shore to\nthe massacre of Madagascar (so I always called it, though our men could\nnot bear the word _massacre_ with any patience:) and indeed this last\ncircumstance, as I have said, put me to silence for the present.\nBut my frequent preaching to them on this subject had worse consequences\nthan I expected; and the boatswain, who had been the head of the\nattempt, came up boldly to me one time, and told me he found that I\ncontinually brought that affair upon the stage, that I made unjust\nreflections upon it, and had used the men very ill on that account, and\nhimself in particular; that as I was but a passenger, and had no command\nin the ship, or concern in the voyage, they were not obliged to bear it;\nthat they did not know but I might have some ill design in my head, and\nperhaps call them to an account for it when they came to England; and\nthat therefore, unless I would resolve to have done with it, and also\nnot to concern myself farther with him, or any of his affairs, he would\nleave the ship; for he did not think it was safe to sail with me\namong them.\nI heard him patiently enough till he had done, and then told him that I\ndid confess I had all along opposed the massacre of Madagascar, for such\nI would always call it; and that I had on all occasions spoken my mind\nfreely about it, though not more upon him than any of the rest; that as\nto my having no command in the ship, that was true, nor did I exercise\nany authority, only took the liberty of speaking my mind in things which\npublicly concerned us all: as to what concern I had in the voyage, that\nwas none of his business; I was a considerable owner of the ship, and in\nthat claim I conceived I had a right to speak, even farther than I had\nyet done, and would not be accountable to him or any one else; and began\nto be a little warm with him: he made but little reply to me at that\ntime, and I thought that affair had been over. We were at this time in\nthe road to Bengal; and being willing to see the place, I went on shore\nwith the supercargo, in the ship\u2019s boat, to divert myself; and towards\nevening was preparing to go on board, when one of the men came to me,\nand told me he would not have me trouble myself to come down to the\nboat, for they had orders not to carry me on board. Any one may guess\nwhat a surprise I was in at so insolent a message; and I asked the man\nwho bade him deliver that errand to me? He told me, the coxswain. I said\nno more to the fellow, but bid him let them know he had delivered his\nmessage, and that I had given him no answer to it.\nI immediately went and round out the supercargo, and told him the story,\nadding, what I presently foresaw, viz. that there would certainly be a\nmutiny in the ship; and entreated him to go immediately on board the\nship in an Indian boat, and acquaint the captain of it: but I might have\nspared this intelligence, for before I had spoken to him on shore the\nmatter was effected on board: the boatswain, the gunner, the carpenter,\nand, in a word, all the inferior officers, as soon as I was gone off in\nthe boat, came up to the quarter-deck, and desired to speak with the\ncaptain; and there the boatswain making a long harangue, (for the fellow\ntalked very well) and repeating all he had said to me, told the captain\nin a few words, that as I was now gone peaceably on shore, they were\nloath to use any violence with me; which if I had not gone on shore,\nthey would otherwise have done, to oblige me to have gone. They\ntherefore thought fit to tell him, that as they shipped themselves to\nserve in the ship under his command, they would perform it faithfully;\nbut if I would not quit the ship, or the captain oblige me to quit it,\nthey would all leave the ship, and sail no farther with him; and at that\nword All, he turned his face about towards the main-mast, which was, it\nseems, the signal agreed on between them, at which all the seamen being\ngot together, they cried out, \u201cOne and All, One and All!\u201d\nMy nephew, the captain, was a man of spirit, and of great presence of\nmind; and though he was surprised, you may be sure, at the thing, yet he\ntold them calmly he would consider of the matter, but that he could do\nnothing in it till he had spoken to me about it: he used some arguments\nwith them, to shew them the unreasonableness and injustice of the thing,\nbut it was all in vain; they swore, and shook hands round, before his\nface, that they would go all on shore unless he would engage to them not\nto suffer me to come on board the ship.\nThis was a hard article upon him, who knew his obligation to me, and did\nnot know how I might take it; so he began to talk cavalierly to them;\ntold them that I was a very considerable owner of the ship, and that in\njustice he could not put me out of my own house; that this was next door\nto serving me as the famous pirate Kid had done, who made the mutiny in\nthe ship, set the captain on shore in an uninhabited island, and ran\naway with the ship; that let them go into what ship they would, if ever\nthey came to England again it would cost them dear; that the ship was\nmine, and that he would not put me out of it; and that he would rather\nlose the ship, and the voyage too, than disoblige me so much; so they\nmight do as they pleased. However, he would go on shore, and talk with\nme there, and invited the boatswain to go with him, and perhaps they\nmight accommodate the matter with me.\nBut they all rejected the proposal; and said, they would have nothing to\ndo with me any more, neither on board nor on shore; and if I came on\nboard, they would go on shore. \u201cWell,\u201d said the captain, \u201cif you are all\nof this mind, let me go on shore, and talk with him:\u201d so away he came to\nme with this account, a little after the message had been brought to me\nfrom the coxswain.\nI was very glad to see my nephew I must confess, for I was not without\napprehensions that they would confine him by violence, set sail, and run\naway with the ship; and then I had been stripped naked, in a remote\ncountry, and nothing to help myself: in short, I had been in a worse\ncase than when I was all alone in the island.\nBut they had not come to that length, it seems, to my great\nsatisfaction; and when my nephew told me what they had said to him, and\nhow they had sworn, and shook hands, that they would one and all leave\nthe ship, if I was suffered to come on board, I told him he should not\nbe concerned at it at all, for I would stay onshore; I only desired he\nwould take care and send me all my necessary things on shore, and leave\nme a sufficient sum of money, and I would find my way to England as well\nas I could.\nThis was a heavy piece of news to my nephew; but there was no way to\nhelp it, but to comply with it. So, in short, he went on board the ship\nagain, and satisfied the men that his uncle had yielded to their\nimportunity, and had sent for his goods from on board the ship. So the\nmatter was over in a very few hours; the men returned to their duty, and\nI begun to consider what course I should steer.\nI was now alone in the remotest part of the world, as I think I may call\nit, for I was near three thousand leagues, by sea, farther off from\nEngland than I was at my island; only, it is true, I might travel here\nby land, over the Great Mogul\u2019s country to Surat, might go from thence\nto Bassora by sea, up the Gulf of Persia, and from thence might take the\nway of the caravans, over the deserts of Arabia, to Aleppo and\nScanderoon, and from thence by sea again to Italy, and so overland into\nFrance; and this, put together, might be, at least, a full diameter of\nthe globe; but, if it were to be measured, I suppose it would appear to\nbe a great deal more.\nI had another way before me, which was to wait for some English ships,\nwhich were coming to Bengal, from Achin, on the island of Sumatra, and\nget passage on board them for England: but as I came hither without any\nconcern with the English East India Company, so it would be difficult to\ngo from hence without their licence, unless with great favour of the\ncaptains of the ships, or of the Company\u2019s factors; and to both I was an\nutter stranger.\nHere I had the particular pleasure, speaking by contrarieties, to see\nthe ship set sail without me; a treatment, I think, a man in my\ncircumstances scarce ever met with, except from pirates running away\nwith a ship, and setting those that would not agree with their villany\non shore: indeed this was the next door to it both ways. However, my\nnephew left me two servants, or rather, one companion and one servant:\nthe first was clerk to the purser, whom he engaged to go with me; and\nthe other was his own servant. I took me also a good lodging in the\nhouse of an English woman, where several merchants lodged, some French,\ntwo Italians, or rather Jews, and one Englishman. Here I was handsomely\nenough entertained; and that I might not be said to run rashly upon any\nthing, I stayed here above nine months, considering what course to take,\nand how to manage myself. I had some English goods with me of value, and\na considerable sum of money; my nephew furnishing me with a thousand\npieces of eight, and a letter of credit for more, if I had occasion,\nthat I might not be straitened, whatever might happen.\nI quickly disposed of my goods, and to advantage too; and, as I\noriginally intended, I bought here some very good diamonds, which, of\nall other things, was the most proper for me, in my circumstances,\nbecause I might always carry my whole estate about me.\nAfter a long stay here, and many proposals made for my return to\nEngland, but none falling to my mind, the English merchant, who lodged\nwith me, and with whom I had contracted an intimate acquaintance, came\nto me one morning: \u201cCountryman,\u201d says he, \u201cI have a project to\ncommunicate to you, which, as it suits with my thoughts, may, for aught\nI know, suit with yours also, when you shall have thoroughly\nconsidered it.\n\u201cHere we are posted,\u201d says he, \u201cyou by accident, and I by my own choice,\nin a part of the world very remote from our own country; but it is in a\ncountry where, by us who understand trade and business, a great deal of\nmoney is to be got: if you will put a thousand pounds to my thousand\npounds, we will hire a ship here, the first we can get to our minds; you\nshall be captain, I\u2019ll be merchant, and we will go a trading voyage to\nChina; for what should we stand still for? The whole world is in motion,\nrolling round and round; all the creatures of God, heavenly bodies and\nearthly, are busy and vibrant: why should we be idle? There are no\ndrones,\u201d says he, \u201cliving in the world but men: why should we be of\nthat number?\u201d\nI liked this proposal very well; and the more because it seemed to be\nexpressed with so much good will, and in so friendly a manner. I will\nnot say, but that I might, by my loose and unhinged circumstances, be\nthe fitter to embrace a proposal for trade, and indeed for any thing\nelse; or otherwise trade was none of my element; however, I might,\nperhaps, say with some truth, that if trade was not my element, rambling\nwas; and no proposal for seeing any part of the world, which I had never\nseen before, could possibly come amiss to me.\nIt was, however, some time before we could get a ship to our mind; and\nwhen we got a vessel, it was not easy to get English sailors; that is to\nsay, so many as were necessary to govern the voyage, and manage the\nsailors which we should pick up there. After some time we got a mate, a\nboatswain, and a gunner, English; a Dutch carpenter, and three\nPortuguese foremast-men: with these we found we could do well enough,\nhaving Indian seamen, such as they are, to make up.\nThere are so many travellers who have written the history of their\nvoyages and travels this way, that it would be but very little diversion\nto any body, to give a long account of the places we went to, and the\npeople who inhabit there: those things I leave to others, and refer the\nreader to those journals and travels of Englishmen, many of which, I\nfind, are published, and more promised every day. It is enough for me to\ntell you that we made the voyage to Achin, in the island of Sumatra,\nfirst; and from thence to Siam, where we exchanged some of our wares for\nopium, and for some arrack; the first a commodity which bears a great\nprice among the Chinese, and which, at that time, was very much wanted\nthere: in a word, we went up to Susham; made a very great voyage; were\neight months out; and returned to Bengal: and I was very well satisfied\nwith my adventure.\nI observe, that our people in England often admire how the officers,\nwhich the Company send into India, and the merchants which generally\nstay there, get such very good estates as they do, and sometimes come\nhome worth sixty, seventy, and a hundred thousand pounds at a time. But\nit is no wonder, or, at least, we shall see so much farther into it,\nwhen we consider the innumerable ports and places where they have a free\ncommerce, that it will then be no wonder; and much less will it be so,\nwhen we consider, that at all those places and ports where the English\nships come, there is so much, and such constant demand for the growth of\nall other countries, that there is a certain vent for the return, as\nwell as a market abroad for the goods carried out.\nIn short, we made a very good voyage, and I got so much money by the\nfirst adventure, and such an insight into the method of getting more,\nthat, had I been twenty years younger, I should have been tempted to\nhave stayed here, and sought no farther for making my fortune: but what\nwas all this to a man on the wrong side of threescore, that was rich\nenough, and came abroad more in obedience to a restless desire of seeing\nthe world, than a covetous desire of getting in it? And indeed I think\nit is with great justice that I now call it a restless desire, for it\nwas so: when I was at home, I was restless to go abroad; and now I was\nabroad, I was restless to be at home. I say, what was this gain to me? I\nwas rich enough already; nor had I any uneasy desires about getting more\nmoney; and therefore, the profits of the voyage to me were things of no\ngreat force to me, for the prompting me forward to farther undertakings:\nhence I thought, that by this voyage I had made no progress at all;\nbecause I was come back, as I might call it, to the place from whence I\ncame, as to a home; whereas my eye, which, like that which Solomon\nspeaks of, was never satisfied with seeing, was still more desirous of\nwandering and seeing. I was come into a part of the world which I never\nwas in before; and that part in particular which I had heard much of;\nand was resolved to see as much of it as I could; and then I thought I\nmight say I had seen all the world that was worth seeing.\nBut my fellow-traveller and I had different notions: I do not name this\nto insist upon my own, for I acknowledge his was most just, and the most\nsuited to the end of a merchant\u2019s life; who, when he is abroad upon\nadventures, it is his wisdom to stick to that, as the best thing for\nhim, which he is like to get the most money by. My new friend kept\nhimself to the nature of the thing, and would have been content to have\ngone, like a carrier\u2019s horse, always to the same inn, backward and\nforward, provided he could, as he called it, find his account in it: on\nthe other hand, mine, as old as I was, was the notion of a mad rambling\nboy, that never cares to see a thing twice over.\nBut this was not all: I had a kind of impatience upon me to be nearer\nhome, and yet the most unsettled resolution imaginable, which way to go.\nIn the interval of these consultations, my friend, who was always upon\nthe search for business, proposed another voyage to me, viz. among the\nSpice Islands; and to bring home a load of cloves from the Manillas, or\nthereabouts; places where, indeed, the Dutch do trade, but the islands\nbelong partly to the Spaniards; though we went not so far, but to some\nother, where they have not the whole power as they have at Batavia,\nCeylon, &c. We were not long in preparing for this voyage; the chief\ndifficulty was in bringing me to come into it; however, at last, nothing\nelse offering, and finding that really stirring about and trading, the\nprofit being so great, and, as I may say, certain, had more pleasure in\nit, and more satisfaction to the mind, than sitting still; which, to me\nespecially, was the unhappiest part of life, I resolved on this voyage\ntoo: which we made very successfully, touching at Borneo, and several\nislands, whose names I do not remember, and came home in about five\nmonths. We sold our spice, which was chiefly cloves, and some nutmegs,\nto the Persian merchants, who carried them away for the Gulf; and,\nmaking near five of one, we really got a great deal of money.\nMy friend, when we made up this account, smiled at me: \u201cWell now,\u201d said\nhe, with a sort of an agreeable insult upon my indolent temper, \u201cis not\nthis better than walking about here, like a man of nothing to do, and\nspending our time in staring at the nonsense and ignorace of the\nPagans?\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy truly,\u201d said I, \u201cmy friend, I think it is; and I begin to\nbe a convert to the principles of merchandising. But I must tell you,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cby the way, you do not know what I am doing; for if once I\nconquer my backwardness, and embark heartily, as old as I am, I shall\nharass you up and down the world till I tire you; for I shall pursue it\nso eagerly, I shall never let you lie still.\u201d\nBut to be short with my speculations: a little while after this there\ncame in a Dutch ship from Batavia; she was a coaster, not an European\ntrader, and of about two hundred tons burden: the men, as they\npretended, having been so sickly, that the captain had not men enough to\ngo to sea with, he lay by at Bengal; and, as if having got money enough,\nor being willing, for other reasons, to go for Europe, he gave public\nnotice, that he would sell his ship; this came to my ears before my new\npartner heard of it; and I had a great mind to buy it. So I went home to\nhim, and told him of it: he considered awhile, for he was no rash man\nneither; but musing some time, he replied, \u201cShe is a little too big;\nbut, however, we will have her.\u201d Accordingly we bought the ship; and,\nagreeing with the master, we paid for her, and took possession; when we\nhad done so, we resolved to entertain the men, if we could, to join them\nwith those we had, for the pursuing our business; but on a sudden, they\nnot having received their wages, but their share of the money, as we\nafterwards learnt, not one of them was to be found. We inquired much\nabout them, and at length were told, that they were all gone together,\nby land, to Agra, the great city of the Mogul\u2019s residence; and from\nthence were to travel to Surat, and so by sea to the Gulf of Persia.\nNothing had so heartily troubled me a good while, as that I missed the\nopportunity of going with them; for such a ramble, I thought, and in\nsuch company as would both have guarded me and diverted me, would have\nsuited mightily with my great design; and I should both have seen the\nworld, and gone homewards too; but I was much better satisfied a few\ndays after, when I came to know what sort of fellows they were; for, in\nshort, their history was, that this man they called captain was the\ngunner only, not the commander; that they had been a trading voyage, in\nwhich they were attacked on shore by some of the Malaccans, who had\nkilled the captain and three of his men; and that after the captain was\nkilled, these men, eleven in number, had resolved to run away with the\nship, which they did; and had brought her in at the Bay of Bengal,\nleaving the mate and five men more on shore; of whom we shall\nhear farther.\nWell; let them come by the ship how they would, we came honestly by her,\nas we thought; though we did not, I confess, examine into things so\nexactly as we ought; for we never inquired any thing of the seamen, who,\nif we had examined, would certainly have faltered in their accounts,\ncontradicted one another, and perhaps have contradicted themselves; or,\none how or other, we should have seen reason to have suspected them: but\nthe man shewed us a bill of sale for the ship, to one Emanuel\nClostershoven, or some such name, (for I suppose it was all a forgery)\nand called himself by that name; and we could not contradict him; and\nbeing withal a little too unwary, or at least having no suspicion of the\nthing, we went through with our bargain.\nHowever, we picked up some English seamen here after this, and some\nDutch; and we now resolved for a second voyage to the south-east, for\ncloves, &c. that is to say, among the Philippine and Malacca isles; and,\nin short, not to fill this part of my story with trifles, when what is\nyet to come is so remarkable, I spent, from first to last, six years in\nthis country, trading from port to port, backward and forward, and with\nvery good success; and was now the last year with my partner, going in\nthe ship above-mentioned, on a voyage to China; but designing first to\ngo to Siam, to buy rice.\nIn this voyage, being by contrary winds obliged to beat up and down a\ngreat while in the Straits of Malacca, and among the islands, we were no\nsooner got clear of those difficult seas, but we found our ship had\nsprung a leak, and we were not able, by all our industry, to find out\nwhere it was. This forced us to make for some port; and my partner, who\nknew the country better than I did, directed the captain to put into the\nriver of Cambodia; for I had made the English mate, one Mr. Thompson,\ncaptain, not being willing to take the charge of the ship upon myself.\nThis river lies on the north side of the great bay or gulf which goes\nup to Siam.\nWhile we were here, and going often on shore for refreshment, there\ncomes to me one day an Englishman, and he was, it seems, a gunner\u2019s mate\non board an English East India ship, which rode in the same river, up at\nor near the city of Cambodia: what brought him hither we knew not; but\nhe comes up to me, and, speaking English, \u201cSir,\u201d says he, \u201cyou are a\nstranger to me, and I to you; but I have something to tell you, that\nvery nearly concerns you.\u201d\nI looked stedfastly at him a good while, and he thought at first I had\nknown him, but I did not. \u201cIf it very nearly concerns me,\u201d said I, \u201cand\nnot yourself, what moves you to tell it me?\u201d\u2014\u201cI am moved,\u201d says he, \u201cby\nthe imminent danger you are in; and, for aught I see, you have no\nknowledge of it.\u201d\u2014\u201cI know no danger I am in,\u201d said I, \u201cbut that my ship\nis leaky, and I cannot find it out; but I propose to lay her aground\nto-morrow, to see if I can find it.\u201d\u2014\u201cBut, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cleaky or not\nleaky, find it or not find it, you will be wiser than to lay your ship\non shore to-morrow, when you hear what I have to say to you. Do you\nknow, Sir,\u201d said he, \u201cthe town of Cambodia lies about fifteen leagues up\nthis river? And there are two large English ships about five leagues on\nthis side, and three Dutch.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cand what is that to\nme?\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cis it for a man that is upon such adventures\nas you are, to come into a port, and not examine first what ships there\nare there, and whether he is able to deal with them? I suppose you do\nnot think you are a match for them?\u201d I was amused very much at his\ndiscourse, but not amazed at it; for I could not conceive what he meant;\nand I turned short upon him, and said, \u201cSir, I wish you would explain\nyourself; I cannot imagine what reason I have to be afraid of any of the\nCompany\u2019s ships, or Dutch ships; I am no interloper; what can they have\nto say to me?\u201d\nHe looked like a man half angry, half pleased; and pausing awhile, but\nsmiling, \u201cWell, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cif you think yourself secure, you must\ntake your chance; I am sorry your fate should blind you against good\nadvice; but assure yourself if you do not put to sea immediately, you\nwill the very next tide be attacked by five long-boats full of men; and,\nperhaps, if you are taken, you will be hanged for a pirate, and the\nparticulars be examined into afterwards. I thought, Sir,\u201d added he, \u201cI\nshould have met with a better reception than this, for doing you a piece\nof service of such importance.\u201d\u2014\u201cI can never be ungrateful,\u201d said I,\n\u201cfor any service, or to any man that offers me any kindness; but it is\npast my comprehension,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat they should have such a design\nupon me for; however, since you say there is no time to be lost, and\nthat there is some villanous design in hand against me, I will go on\nboard this minute, and put to sea immediately, if my men can stop the\nleak, or if we can swim without stopping it: but, Sir,\u201d said I, \u201cshall I\ngo away ignorant of the reason of all this? Can you give me no farther\nlight into it?\u201d\n\u201cI can tell you but part of the story, Sir,\u201d says he; \u201cbut I have a\nDutch seaman here with me, and, I believe, I could persuade him to tell\nyou the rest; but there is scarce time for it: but the short of the\nstory is this, the first part of which, I suppose, you know well enough,\nviz. that you were with this ship at Sumatra; that there your captain\nwas murdered by the Malaccans, with three of his men; and that you, or\nsome of those that were on board with you, ran away with the ship, and\nare since turned pirates. This is the sum of the story, and you will all\nbe seized as pirates, I can assure you, and executed with very little\nceremony; for you know merchant-ships shew but little law to pirates, if\nthey get them in their power.\u201d\n\u201cNow you speak plain English,\u201d said I, \u201cand I thank you; and though I\nknow nothing that we have done, like what you talk of, but I am sure we\ncame honestly and fairly by the ship; yet seeing such work is a-doing,\nas you say, and that you seem to mean honestly, I will be upon my\nguard.\u201d\u2014\u201cNay, Sir,\u201d says he, \u201cdo not talk of being upon your guard; the\nbest defence is to be out of the danger: if you have any regard to your\nlife, and the lives of all your men, put out to sea without fail at\nhigh-water; and as you have a whole tide before you, you will be gone\ntoo far out before they can come down; for they will come away at high\nwater; and as they have twenty miles to come, you\u2019ll get near two hours\nof them by the difference of the tide, not reckoning the length of the\nway: besides, as they are only boats, and not ships, they will not\nventure to follow you far out to sea, especially if it blows.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cyou have been very kind in this: what shall I do for\nyou to make you amends?\u201d\u2014\u201cSir,\u201d says he, \u201cyou may not be so willing to\nmake me amends, because you may not be convinced of the truth of it: I\nwill make an offer to you; I have nineteen months pay due to me on board\nthe ship \u2014\u2014, which I came out of England in; and the Dutchman, that is\nwith me, has seven months pay due to him; if you will make good our pay\nto us, we will go along with you: if you find nothing more in it, we\nwill desire no more; but if we do convince you, that we have saved your\nlife, and the ship, and the lives of all the men in her, we will leave\nthe rest to you.\u201d\nI consented to this readily; and went immediately on board, and the two\nmen with me. As soon as I came to the ship\u2019s side, my partner, who was\non board, came on the quarter-deck, and called to me with a great deal\nof joy, \u201cO ho! O ho! we have stopped the leak!\u201d\u2014\u201cSay you so?\u201d said I;\n\u201cthank God; but weigh the anchor then immediately.\u201d\u2014\u201cWeigh!\u201d says he;\n\u201cwhat do you mean by that? What is the matter?\u201d says he. \u201cAsk no\nquestions,\u201d said I, \u201cbut all hands to work, and weigh without losing a\nminute.\u201d He was surprised: but, however, he called the captain, and he\nimmediately ordered the anchor to be got up; and though the tide was not\nquite done, yet a little land breeze blowing, we stood out to sea; then\nI called him into the cabin, and told him the story at large; and we\ncalled in the men, and they told us the rest of it: but as it took us up\na great deal of time, so before we had done, a seaman comes to the cabin\ndoor, and calls out to us, that the captain made him tell us, we were\nchased. \u201cChased!\u201d said I; \u201cby whom, and by what?\u201d\u2014\u201cBy five sloops, or\nboats,\u201d said the fellow, \u201cfull of men.\u201d\u2014\u201cVery well,\u201d said I; \u201cthen it\nis apparent there is something in it.\u201d In the next place, I ordered all\nour men to be called up; and told them, that there was a design to seize\nthe ship, and to take us for pirates; and asked them, if they would\nstand by us, and by one another? The men answered, cheerfully, one and\nall, that they would live and die with us. Then I asked the captain,\nwhat way he thought best for us to manage a fight with them; for resist\nthem I resolved we would, and that to the last drop. He said, readily,\nthat the way was to keep them off with our great shot, as long as we\ncould, and then to fire at them with our small arms, to keep them from\nboarding us; but when neither of these would do any longer, we should\nretire to our close quarters; perhaps they had not materials to break\nopen our bulk-heads, or get in upon us.\nThe gunner had, in the mean time, orders to bring two guns to bear fore\nand aft, out of the steerage, to clear the deck, and load them with\nmusket-bullets and small pieces of old iron, and what next came to hand;\nand thus we made ready for fight; but all this while kept out to sea,\nwith wind enough, and could see the boats at a distance, being five\nlarge long-boats following us, with all the sail they could make.\nTwo of these boats, which, by our glasses, we could see were English,\nhad outsailed the rest, were near two leagues a head of them, and gained\nupon us considerably; so that we found they would come up with us: upon\nwhich we fired a gun without a shot, to intimate that they should bring\nto; and we put out a flag of truce, as a signal for parley; but they\nkept crowding after us, till they came within shot: upon this we took in\nour white flag, they having made no answer to it; hung out the red flag,\nand fired at them with shot; notwithstanding this, they came on till\nthey were near enough to call to them with a speaking trumpet, which we\nhad on board; so we called to them, and bade them keep off at\ntheir peril.\nIt was all one, they crowded after us, and endeavoured to come under\nour stern, so to board us on our quarter: upon which, seeing they were\nresolute for mischief, and depended upon the strength that followed\nthem, I ordered to bring the ship to, so that they lay upon our\nbroadside, when immediately we fired five guns at them; one of them had\nbeen levelled so true, as to carry away the stern of the hindermost\nboat, and bring them to the necessity of taking down their sail, and\nrunning all to the head of the boat to keep her from sinking; so she lay\nby, and had enough of it; but seeing the foremost boat still crowd on\nafter us, we made ready to fire at her in particular.\nWhile this was doing, one of the three boats that was behind, being\nforwarder than the other two, made up to the boat which we had disabled,\nto relieve her, and we could afterwards see her take out the men: we\ncalled again to the foremost boat, and offered a truce to parley again,\nand to know what was her business with us; but had no answer: only she\ncrowded close under our stern. Upon this our gunner, who was a very\ndexterous fellow, run out his two chase-guns, and fired at her; but the\nshot missing, the men in the boat shouted, waved their caps, and came\non; but the gunner, getting quickly ready again, fired among them a\nsecond time; one shot of which, though it missed the boat itself, yet\nfell in among the men, and we could easily see had done a great deal of\nmischief among them; but we, taking no notice of that, weared the ship\nagain, and brought our quarter to bear upon them; and, firing three guns\nmore, we found the boat was split almost to pieces; in particular, her\nrudder, and a piece of her stern, were shot quite away; so they handed\ntheir sail immediately, and were in great disorder; but, to complete\ntheir misfortune, our gunner let fly two guns at them again; where he\nhit them we could not tell, but we found the boat was sinking, and some\nof the men already in the water. Upon this I immediately manned out our\npinnace, which we had kept close by our side, with orders to pick up\nsome of the men, if they could, and save them from drowning, and\nimmediately to come on board with them; because we saw the rest of the\nboats began to come up. Our men in the pinnace followed their orders,\nand took up three men; one of which was just drowning, and it was a good\nwhile before we could recover him. As soon as they were on board, we\ncrowded all the sail we could make, and stood farther out to sea; and we\nfound, that when the other three boats came up to the first two, they\ngave over their chase.\nBeing thus delivered from a danger, which though I knew not the reason\nof it, yet seemed to be much greater than I apprehended, I took care\nthat we should change our course, and not let any one imagine whither we\nwere going; so we stood out to sea eastward, quite out of the course of\nall European ships, whether they were bound to China, or any where else\nwithin the commerce of the European nations.\nWhen we were now at sea, we began to consult with the two seamen, and\ninquire first, what the meaning of all this should be? The Dutchman let\nus into the secret of it at once; telling us, that the fellow that sold\nus the ship, as we said, was no more than a thief that had run away with\nher. Then he told us how the captain, whose name too he mentioned,\nthough I do not remember it now, was treacherously murdered by the\nnatives on the coast of Malacca, with three of his men; and that he,\nthis Dutchman, and four more, got into the woods, where they wandered\nabout a great while; till at length he, in particular, in a miraculous\nmanner, made his escape, and swam off to a Dutch ship, which sailing\nnear the shore, in its way from China, had sent their boat on shore for\nfresh water; that he durst not come to that part of the shore where the\nboat was, but made shift in the night to take in the water farther off,\nand swimming a great while, at last the ship\u2019s boat took him up.\nHe then told us, that he went to Batavia, where two of the seamen\nbelonging to the ship had arrived, having deserted the rest in their\ntravels; and gave an account, that the fellow who had run away with the\nship, sold her at Bengal to a set of pirates, which were gone a-cruising\nin her; and that they had already taken an English ship, and two Dutch\nships, very richly laden.\nThis latter part we found to concern us directly; and though we knew it\nto be false, yet, as my partner said very well, if we had fallen into\ntheir hands, and they had such a prepossession against us beforehand, it\nhad been in vain for us to have defended ourselves, or to hope for any\ngood quarters at their hands; especially considering that our accusers\nhad been our judges, and that we could have expected nothing from them\nbut what rage would have dictated, and ungoverned passion have executed;\nand therefore it was his opinion, we should go directly back to Bengal,\nfrom whence we came, without putting in at any port whatever; because\nthere we could give an account of ourselves, and could prove where we\nwere when the ship put in, whom we bought her of, and the like; and,\nwhich was more than all the rest, if we were put to the necessity of\nbringing it before the proper judges, we should be sure to have some\njustice; and not be hanged first, and judged afterwards.\nI was some time of my partner\u2019s opinion; but after a little more serious\nthinking, I told him, I thought it was a very great hazard for us to\nattempt returning to Bengal, for that we were on the wrong side of the\nStraits of Malacca; and that if the alarm was given, we should be sure\nto be waylaid on every side, as well by the Dutch of Batavia, as the\nEnglish elsewhere; that if we should be taken, as it were, running away,\nwe should even condemn ourselves, and there would want no more evidence\nto destroy us. I also asked the English sailor\u2019s opinion, who said, he\nwas of my mind, and that we should certainly be taken.\nThis danger a little startled my partner, and all the ship\u2019s company;\nand we immediately resolved to go away to the coast of Tonquin, and so\non to China; and from thence pursuing the first design, as to trade,\nfind some way or other to dispose of the ship, and come back in some of\nthe vessels of the country, such as we could get. This was approved of\nas the best method for our security; and accordingly we steered away\nN.N.E. keeping above fifty leagues off from the usual course to\nthe eastward.\nThis, however, put us to some inconvenience; for first the winds when we\ncame to that distance from the shore, seemed to be more steadily against\nus, blowing almost trade as we call it, from the E. and E.N.E.; so that\nwe were a long while upon our voyage, and we were but ill provided with\nvictuals for so long a run; and, which was still worse, there was some\ndanger that those English and Dutch ships, whose boats pursued us,\nwhereof some were bound that way, might be got in before us; and if not,\nsome other ship bound to China might have information of us from them,\nand pursue us with the same vigour.\nI must confess I was now very uneasy, and thought myself, including the\nlast escape from the long boats, to have been in the most dangerous\ncondition that ever I was in through all my past life; for whatever ill\ncircumstances I had been in, I was never pursued for a thief before; nor\nhad I ever done any thing that merited the name of dishonest or\nfraudulent, much less thievish. I had chiefly been mine own enemy; or,\nas I may rightly say, I had been nobody\u2019s enemy but my own. But now I\nwas embarrassed in the worst condition imaginable; for though I was\nperfectly innocent, I was in no condition to make that innocence appear:\nand if I had been taken, it had been under a supposed guilt of the worst\nkind; at least a crime esteemed so among the people I had to do with.\nThis made me very anxious to make an escape, though which way to do it I\nknew not; or what port or place we should go to. My partner, seeing me\nthus dejected, though he was the most concerned at first, began to\nencourage me; and describing to me the several ports of the coast, told\nme, he would put in on the coast of Cochinchina, or the bay of Tonquin;\nintending to go afterwards to Macao, a town once in the possession or\nthe Portuguese, and where still a great many European families resided,\nand particularly the missionary priests usually went thither, in order\nto their going forward to China.\nHither we then resolved to go; and accordingly, though after a tedious\nand irregular course, and very much straitened for provisions, we came\nwithin sight of the coast very early in the morning; and upon reflection\nupon the past circumstances we were in, and the danger, if we had not\nescaped, we resolved to put into a small river, which, however, had\ndepth enough of water for us, and to see if we could, either overland or\nby the ship\u2019s pinnace, come to know what ships were in any port\nthereabouts. This happy step was, indeed, our deliverance; for though we\ndid not immediately see any European ships in the bay of Tonquin, yet\nthe next morning there came into the bay two Dutch ships; and a third\nwithout any colours spread out, but which we believed to be a Dutchman,\npassed by at about two leagues distance, steering for the coast of\nChina; and in the afternoon went by two English ships, steering the same\ncourse; and thus we thought we saw ourselves beset with enemies, both\none way and the other. The place we were in was wild and barbarous, the\npeople thieves, even by occupation or profession; and though, it is\ntrue, we had not much to seek of them, and except getting a few\nprovisions, cared not how little we had to do with them; yet it was with\nmuch difficulty that we kept ourselves from being insulted by them\nseveral ways.\nWe were in a small river of this country, within a few leagues of its\nutmost limits northward, and by our boat we coasted north-east to the\npoint of land which opens to the great bay of Tonquin: and it was in\nthis beating up along the shore that we discovered as above, that, in a\nword, we were surrounded with enemies. The people we were among were the\nmost barbarous of all the inhabitants of the coast; having no\ncorrespondence with any other nation, and dealing only in fish and oil,\nand such gross commodities; and it may be particularly seen that they\nare, as I said, the most barbarous of any of the inhabitants, viz. that\namong other customs they have this one, that if any vessel had the\nmisfortune to be shipwrecked upon their coast, they presently make the\nmen all prisoners; that is to say, slaves; and it was not long before we\nfound a spice of their kindness this way, on the occasion following:\nI have observed above that our ship sprung a leak at sea, and that we\ncould not find it out: and however it happened, that, as I have said, it\nwas stopped unexpectedly, in the happy minute of our being to be seized\nby the Dutch and English ships, near the bay of Siam; yet, as we did not\nfind the ship so perfectly tight and sound as we desired, we resolved,\nwhile we were in this place, to lay her on shore, take out what heavy\nthings we had on board, which were not many, and to wash and clean her\nbottom, and if possible to find out where the leaks were.\nAccordingly, having lightened the ship, and brought all our guns, and\nother moveable things, to one side, we tried to bring her down, that we\nmight come at her bottom; for, on second thoughts, we did not care to\nlay her dry aground, neither could we find out a proper place for it.\nThe inhabitants, who had never been acquainted with such a sight, came\nwondering down to the shore to look at us; and seeing the ship lie down\non one side in such a manner, and heeling towards the shore, and not\nseeing our men, who were at work on her bottom with stages, and with\ntheir boats, on the off side, they presently concluded that the ship was\ncast away, and lay so very fast on the ground.\nOn this supposition they came all about us in two or three hours time,\nwith ten or twelve large boats, having some of them eight, some ten men\nin a boat, intending, no doubt, to have come on board and plunder the\nship; and if they had found us there, to have carried us away for\nslaves to their king, or whatever they call him, for we knew not who was\ntheir governor.\nWhen they came up to the ship, and began to row round her, they\ndiscovered us all hard at work, on the outside of the ship\u2019s bottom and\nside, washing, and graving, and stopping, as every seafaring man\nknows how.\nThey stood for awhile gazing at us, and we, who were a little surprised,\ncould not imagine what their design was; but being willing to be sure,\nwe took this opportunity to get some of us into the ship, and others to\nhand down arms and ammunition to those that were at work to defend\nthemselves with, if there should be occasion; and it was no more than\nneed; for in less than a quarter of an hour\u2019s consultation, they agreed,\nit seems, that the ship was really a wreck; that we were all at work\nendeavouring to save her, or to save our lives by the help of our boats;\nand when we handed our arms into the boats, they concluded by that\nmotion that we were endeavouring to save some of our goods. Upon this\nthey took it for granted they all belonged to them, and away they came\ndirectly upon our men, as if it had been in a line of battle.\nOur men seeing so many of them began to be frighted, for we lay but in\nan ill posture to fight, and cried out to us to know what they should\ndo? I immediately called to the men who worked upon the stages, to slip\nthem down and get up the side into the ship, and bade those in the boat\nto row round and come on board; and those few of us who were on board\nworked with all the strength and hands we had to bring the ship to\nrights; but, however, neither the men upon the stage, nor those in the\nboats, could do as they were ordered, before the Cochinchinese were upon\nthem, and with two of their boats boarded our long-boat, and began to\nlay hold of the men as their prisoners.\nThe first man they laid hold of was an English seaman, a stout, strong\nfellow, who having a musket in his hand, never offered to fire it, but\nlaid it down in the boat, like a fool as I thought. But he understood\nhis business better than I could teach him; for he grappled the Pagan,\nand dragged him by main force out of their own boat into ours; where\ntaking him by the two ears, he beat his head so against the boat\u2019s\ngunnel, that the fellow died instantly in his hands; and in the mean\ntime a Dutchman, who stood next, took up the musket, and with the\nbut-end of it so laid about him, that he knocked down five of them who\nattempted to enter the boat. But this was little towards resisting\nthirty or forty men, who fearless, because ignorant of their danger,\nbegan to throw themselves into the long-boat, where we had but five men\nto defend it. But one accident gave our men a complete victory, which\ndeserved our laughter rather than any thing else, and that was this:\u2014\nOur carpenter being prepared to grave the outside of the ship, as well\nas to pay the seams where he had caulked her to stop the leaks, had got\ntwo kettles just let down into the boat; one filled with boiling pitch,\nand the other with rosin, tallow, and oil, and such stuff as the\nshipwrights used for that work; and the man that tended the carpenter\nhad a great iron ladle in his hand, with which he supplied the men that\nwere at work with that hot stuff: two of the enemy\u2019s men entered the\nboat just where this fellow stood, being in the fore-sheets; he\nimmediately sainted them with a ladleful of the stuff, boiling hot,\nwhich so burnt and scalded them, being half naked, that they roared out\nlike two bulls, and, enraged with the fire, leaped both into the sea.\nThe carpenter saw it, and cried out, \u201cWell done, Jack, give them some\nmore of it;\u201d when stepping forward himself, he takes one of their mops,\nand dipping it in the pitch-pot, he and his man threw it among them so\nplentifully, that, in short, of all the men in three boats, there was\nnot one that was not scalded and burnt with it in a most frightful,\npitiful manner, and made such a howling and crying, that I never heard a\nworse noise, and, indeed, nothing like it; for it was worth observing,\nthat though pain naturally makes all people cry out, yet every nation\nhave a particular way of exclamation, and make noises as different from\none another as their speech. I cannot give the noise these creatures\nmade a better name than howling, nor a name more proper to the tone of\nit; for I never heard any thing more like the noise of the wolves,\nwhich, as I have said, I heard howl in the forest on the frontiers of\nLanguedoc.\nI was never pleased with a victory better in my life; not only as it was\na perfect surprise to me, and that our danger was imminent before; but\nas we got this victory without any bloodshed, except of that man the\nfellow killed with his naked hands, and which I was very much concerned\nat; for I was sick of killing such poor savage wretches, even though it\nwas in my own defence, knowing they came on errands which they thought\njust, and knew no better; and that though it may be a just thing,\nbecause necessary, for there is no necessary wickedness in nature; yet I\nthought it was a sad life, when we must be always obliged to be killing\nour fellow-creatures to preserve ourselves; and, indeed, I think so\nstill; and I would, even now, suffer a great deal, rather than I would\ntake away the life even of the worst person injuring me. I believe also,\nall considering people, who know the value of life, would be of my\nopinion, if they entered seriously into the consideration of it.\nBut to return to my story. All the while this was doing, my partner and\nI, who managed the rest of the men on board, had, with great dexterity,\nbrought the ship almost to rights; and, having gotten the guns into\ntheir places again, the gunner called to me to bid our boat get out of\nthe way, for he would let fly among them. I called back again to him,\nand bid him not offer to fire, for the carpenter would do the work\nwithout him; but bade him heat another pitch-kettle, which our cook, who\nwas on board, took care of. But the enemy was so terrified with what\nthey met with in their first attack, that they would not come on again;\nand some of them that were farthest off, seeing the ship swim, as it\nwere, upright, began, as we supposed, to see their mistake, and gave\nover the enterprise, finding it was not as they expected. Thus we got\nclear of this merry fight; and having gotten some rice, and some roots\nand bread, with about sixteen good big hogs on board two days before, we\nresolved to stay here no longer, but go forward, whatever came of it;\nfor we made no doubt but we should be surrounded the next day with\nrogues enough, perhaps more than our pitch-kettle would dispose of\nfor us.\nWe therefore got all our things on board the same evening, and the next\nmorning were ready to sail. In the meantime, lying at an anchor some\ndistance from the shore, we were not so much concerned, being now in a\nlighting posture, as well as in a sailing posture, if any enemy had\npresented. The next day, having finished our work within board, and\nfinding our ship was perfectly healed of all her leaks, we set sail. We\nwould have gone into the bay of Tonquin, for we wanted to inform\nourselves of what was to be known concerning the Dutch ships that had\nbeen there; but we durst not stand in there, because we had seen several\nships go in, as we supposed, but a little before; so we kept on N.E.\ntowards the isle of Formosa, as much afraid of being seen by a Dutch or\nEnglish merchant-ship, as a Dutch or English merchant-ship in the\nMediterranean is of an Algerine man of war.\nWhen we were thus got to sea, we kept on N.E. as if we would go to the\nManillas or the Philippine islands, and this we did, that we might not\nfall into the way of any of the European ships; and then we steered\nnorth again, till we came to the latitude of 22 degrees 20 minutes, by\nwhich means we made the island of Formosa directly, where we came to an\nanchor, in order to get water and fresh provisions, which the people\nthere, who are very courteous and civil in their manners, supplied us\nwith willingly, and dealt very fairly and punctually with us in all\ntheir agreements and bargains, which is what we did not find among\nother people, and may be owing to the remains of Christianity, which was\nonce planted here by a Dutch mission of Protestants, and is a testimony\nof what I have often observed, viz. that the Christian religion always\ncivilizes the people and reforms their manners, where it is received,\nwhether it works saving effects upon them or not.\nFrom hence we sailed still north, keeping the coast of China at an equal\ndistance, till we knew we were beyond all the ports of China where our\nEuropean ships usually come: but being resolved, if possible, not to\nfall into any of their hands, especially in this country, where, as our\ncircumstances were, we could not fail of being entirely ruined; nay, so\ngreat was my fear in particular, as to my being taken by them, that I\nbelieve firmly I would much rather have chosen to fall into the hands of\nthe Spanish Inquisition.\nBeing now come to the latitude of 30 degrees, we resolved to put into\nthe first trading port we should come at, and standing in for the shore,\na boat came off two leagues to us, with an old Portuguese pilot on\nboard, who, knowing us to be an European ship, came to offer his\nservice, which indeed we were very glad of, and took him on board; upon\nwhich, without asking us whither we would go, he dismissed the boat he\ncame in, and sent it back.\nI thought it was now so much in our choice to make the old man carry us\nwhither we would, that I began to talk with him about carrying us to the\ngulf of Nanquin, which is the most northern part of the coast of China.\nThe old man said he knew the gulf of Nanquin very well; but smiling,\nasked us what we would do there?\nI told him we would sell our cargo, and purchase China wares, calicoes,\nraw silks, tea, wrought silks, &c. and so would return by the same\ncourse we came. He told us our best port had been to have put in at\nMacao, where we could not fail of a market for our opium to our\nsatisfaction, and might, for our money, have purchased all sorts of\nChina goods as cheap as we could at Nanquin.\nNot being able to put the old man out of his talk, of which he was very\nopinionated, or conceited, I told him we were gentlemen as well as\nmerchants, and that we had a mind to go and see the great city of Pekin,\nand the famous court of the monarch of China. \u201cWhy then,\u201d says the old\nman, \u201cyou should go to Ningpo, where, by the river that runs into the\nsea there, you may go up within five leagues of the great canal. This\ncanal is a navigable made stream, which goes through the heart of all\nthat vast empire of China, crosses all the rivers, passes some\nconsiderable hills by the help of sluices and gates, and goes up to the\ncity of Pekin, being in length near two hundred and seventy leagues.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cSeignior Portuguese, but that is not our business now;\nthe great question is, if you can carry us up to the city of Nanquin,\nfrom whence we can travel to Pekin afterwards?\u201d Yes, he said, he could\ndo so very well, and there was a great Dutch ship gone up that way just\nbefore. This gave me a little shock; a Dutch ship was now our terror,\nand we had much rather have met the devil, at least if he had not come\nin too frightful a figure; we depended upon it that a Dutch ship would\nbe our destruction, for we were in no condition to fight them; all the\nships they trade with in those parts being of great burden, and of much\ngreater force than we were.\nThe old man found me a little confused, and under some concern, when he\nnamed a Dutch ship: and said to me, \u201cSir, you need be under no\napprehension of the Dutch; I suppose they are not now at war with your\nnation.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo,\u201d said I, \u201cthat\u2019s true; but I know not what liberties men\nmay take when they are out of the reach of the laws of their\ncountry.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy,\u201d said he, \u201cyou are no pirates, what need you fear? They\nwill not meddle with peaceable merchants, sure.\u201d\nIf I had any blood in my body that did not fly up into my face at that\nword, it was hindered by some stop in the vessels appointed by nature to\ncirculate it; for it put me into the greatest disorder and confusion\nimaginable; nor was it possible for me to conceal it so, but that the\nold man easily perceived it.\n\u201cSir,\u201d said he, \u201cI find you are in some disorder in your thoughts at my\ntalk; pray be pleased to go which way you think fit, and depend upon it\nI\u2019ll do you all the service I can.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy, Seignior,\u201d said I, \u201cit is\ntrue, I am a little unsettled in my resolution at this time, whither to\ngo in particular; and I am something more so for what you said about\npirates. I hope there are no pirates in these seas; we are but in an ill\ncondition to meet with them; for you see we have but a small force, and\nbut very weakly manned.\u201d\n\u201cO Sir,\u201d said he, \u201cdo not be concerned; I do not know that there have\nbeen any pirates in these seas these fifteen years, except one, which\nwas seen, as I hear, in the bay of Siam, about a month since; but you\nmay be assured she is gone to the southward; nor was she a ship of any\ngreat force, or fit for the work; she was not built for a privateer, but\nwas run away with by a reprobate crew that were on board, after the\ncaptain and some of his men had been murdered by the Malaccans, at or\nnear the island of Sumatra.\u201d\n\u201cWhat!\u201d said I, seeming to know nothing of the matter, \u201cdid they murder\nthe captain?\u201d\u2014\u201cNo,\u201d said he, \u201cI do not understand that they murdered\nhim; but as they afterwards ran away with the ship, it is generally\nbelieved they betrayed him into the hands of the Malaccans, who did\nmurder him; and, perhaps, they procured them to do it.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy then,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cthey deserved death, as much as if they had done it\nthemselves.\u201d\u2014\u201cNay,\u201d said the old man, \u201cthey do deserve it, and they\nwill certainly have it if they light upon any English or Dutch ship; for\nthey have all agreed together that if they meet that rogue they will\ngive him no quarter.\u201d\n\u201cBut,\u201d said I to him, \u201cyou say the pirate is gone out of these seas;\nhow can they meet with him then?\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy, that is true,\u201d said he, \u201cthey\ndo say so; but he was, as I tell you, in the bay of Siam, in the river\nCambodia, and was discovered there by some Dutchmen who belonged to the\nship, and who were left on shore when they ran away with her; and some\nEnglish and Dutch traders being in the river, they were within a little\nof taking him. Nay,\u201d said he, \u201cif the foremost boats had been well\nseconded by the rest, they had certainly taken him; but he finding only\ntwo boats within reach of him, tacked about, and fired at these two, and\ndisabled them before the others came up; and then standing off to sea,\nthe others were not able to follow him, and so he got away. But they\nhave all so exact a description of the ship, that they will be sure to\nknow him; and where-ever they find him, they have vowed to give no\nquarter to either the captain or the seamen, but to hang them all up at\nthe yard-arm.\u201d\n\u201cWhat!\u201d said I, \u201cwill they execute them, right or wrong; hang them\nfirst, and judge them afterwards?\u201d\u2014\u201cO Sir!\u201d said the old pilot, \u201cthere\nis no need to make a formal business of it with such rogues as those;\nlet them tie them back to back, and set them a-diving; it is no more\nthan they rightly deserve.\u201d\nI knew I had my old man fast aboard, and that he could do me no harm; so\nI turned short upon him. \u201cWell, Seignior,\u201d said I, \u201cand this is the very\nreason why I would have you carry us to Nanquin, and not to put back to\nMacao, or to any other part of the country where the English or Dutch\nships came; for be it known to you, Seignior, those captains of the\nEnglish and Dutch ships are a parcel of rash, proud, insolent fellows,\nthat neither know what belongs to justice, or how to behave themselves\nas the laws of God and nature direct; but being proud of their offices,\nand not understanding their power, they would get the murderers to\npunish robbers; would take upon them to insult men falsely accused, and\ndetermine them guilty without due inquiry; and perhaps I may live to\ncall some of them to an account of it, where they may be taught how\njustice is to be executed; and that no man ought to be treated as a\ncriminal till some evidence may be had of the crime, and that he is\nthe man.\u201d\nWith this I told him, that this was the very ship they had attacked; and\ngave him a full account of the skirmish we had with their boats, and how\nfoolishly and coward-like they had behaved. I told him all the story of\nour buying the ship, and how the Dutchmen served us. I told him the\nreasons I had to believe that this story of killing the master by the\nMalaccans was not true; as also the running away with the ship; but that\nit was all a fiction of their own, to suggest that the men were turned\npirates; and they ought to have been sure it was so, before they had\nventured to attack us by surprise, and oblige us so resist them; adding,\nthat they would have the blood of those men who were killed there, in\nour just defence, to answer for.\nThe old man was amazed at this relation; and told us, we were very much\nin the right to go away to the north; and that if he might advise us, it\nshould be to sell the ship in China, which we might very well do, and\nbuy or build another in the country; \u201cAnd,\u201d said he, \u201cthough you will\nnot get so good a ship, yet you may get one able enough to carry you and\nall your goods back again to Bengal, or any where else.\u201d\nI told him I would take his advice when I came to any port where I could\nfind a ship for my turn, or get any customer to buy this. He replied, I\nshould meet with customers enough for the ship at Nanquin, and that a\nChinese junk would serve me very well to go back again; and that he\nwould procure me people both to buy one and sell the other.\n\u201cWell, but, Seignior,\u201d says I, \u201cas you say they know the ship so well, I\nmay, perhaps, if I follow your measures, be instrumental to bring some\nhonest innocent men into a terrible broil, and, perhaps, be murdered in\ncold blood; for wherever they find the ship they will prove the guilt\nupon the men by proving this was the ship, and so innocent men may\nprobably be overpowered and murdered.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy,\u201d said the old man, \u201cI\u2019ll\nfind out a way to prevent that also; for as I know all those commanders\nyou speak of very well, and shall see them all as they pass by, I will\nbe sure to set them to rights in the thing, and let them know that they\nhad been so much in the wrong; that though the people who were on board\nat first might run away with the ship, yet it was not true that they had\nturned pirates; and that in particular those were not the men that first\nwent off with the ship, but innocently bought her for their trade; and I\nam persuaded they will so far believe me, as, at least, to act more\ncautiously for the time to come.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cand will you deliver\none message to them from me?\u201d\u2014\u201cYes, I will,\u201d says he, \u201cif you will give\nit under your hand in writing, that I may be able to prove it came from\nyou, and not out of my own head.\u201d I answered, that I would readily give\nit him under my hand. So I took a pen and ink, and paper, and wrote at\nlarge the story of assaulting me with the long-boats, &c. the pretended\nreason of it, and the unjust, cruel design of it; and concluded to the\ncommanders that they had done what they not only should have been\nashamed or, but also, that if ever they came to England, and I lived to\nsee them there, they should all pay dearly for it, if the laws of my\ncountry were not grown out of use before I arrived there.\nMy old pilot read this over and over again, and asked me several times\nif I would stand to it. I answered, I would stand to it as long as I had\nany thing left in the world; being sensible that I should, one time or\nother, find an opportunity to put it home to them. But we had no\noccasion ever to let the pilot carry this letter, for he never went back\nagain. While those things were passing between us, by way of discourse,\nwe went forward directly for Nanquin, and, in about thirteen days sail,\ncame to anchor at the south-west point of the great gulf of Nanquin;\nwhere, by the way, I came by accident to understand, that the two Dutch\nships were gone that length before me, and that I should certainly fall\ninto their hands. I consulted my partner again in this exigency, and he\nwas as much at a loss as I was, and would very gladly have been safe on\nshore almost any where. However, I was not in such perplexity neither,\nbut I asked the old pilot if there was no creek or harbour, which I\nmight put into, and pursue my business with the Chinese privately, and\nbe in no danger of the enemy. He told me if I would sail to the\nsouthward about two-and-forty leagues, there was a little port called\nQuinchang, where the fathers of the mission usually landed from Macao,\non their progress to teach the Christian religion to the Chinese, and\nwhere no European ships ever put in: and, if I thought proper to put in\nthere, I might consider what farther course to take when I was on shore.\nHe confessed, he said, it was not a place for merchants, except that at\nsome certain times they had a kind of a fair there, when the merchants\nfrom Japan came over thither to buy the Chinese merchandises.\nWe all agreed to go back to this place: the name of the port, as he\ncalled it, I may, perhaps, spell wrong, for I do not particularly\nremember it, having lost this, together with the names of many other\nplaces set down in a little pocket-book, which was spoiled by the water,\non an accident which I shall relate in its order; but this I remember,\nthat the Chinese or Japanese merchants we correspond with call it by a\ndifferent name from that which our Portuguese pilot gave it, and\npronounced it as above, Quinchang.\nAs we were unanimous in our resolutions to go to this place, we weighed\nthe next day, having only gone twice on shore, where we were to get\nfresh water; on both which occasions the people of the country were very\ncivil to us, and brought us abundance of things to sell to us; I mean of\nprovisions, plants, roots, tea, rice, and some fowls; but nothing\nwithout money.\nWe came to the other port (the wind being contrary) not till five days;\nbut it was very much to our satisfaction, and I was joyful, and I may\nsay thankful, when I set my foot safe on shore, resolving, and my\npartner too, that if it was possible to dispose of ourselves and effects\nany other way, though not every way to our satisfaction, we would never\nset one foot on board that unhappy vessel again: and indeed I must\nacknowledge, that of all the circumstances of life that ever I had any\nexperience of, nothing makes mankind so completely miserable as that of\nbeing in constant fear. Well does the Scripture say, \u201cThe fear of man\nbrings a snare;\u201d it is a life of death, and the mind is so entirely\nsuppressed by it, that it is capable of no relief; the animal spirits\nsink, and all the vigour of nature, which usually supports men under\nother afflictions, and is present to them in the greatest exigencies,\nfails them here.\nNor did it fail of its usual operations upon the fancy, by heightening\nevery danger; representing the English and Dutch captains to be men\nincapable of hearing reason, or distinguishing between honest men and\nrogues; or between a story calculated for our own turn, made out of\nnothing, on purpose to deceive, and a true genuine account of our whole\nvoyage, progress, and design; for we might many ways have convinced any\nreasonable creature that we were not pirates; the goods we had on board,\nthe course we steered, our frankly shewing ourselves, and entering into\nsuch and such ports; even our very manner, the force we had, the number\nof men, the few arms, little ammunition, and short provisions; all these\nwould have served to convince any man that we were no pirates. The\nopium, and other goods we had on board, would make it appear the ship\nhad been at Bengal; the Dutchmen, who, it was said, had the names of all\nthe men that were in the ship, might easily see that we were a mixture\nof English, Portuguese, and Indians, and but two Dutchmen on board.\nThese, and many other particular circumstances, might have made it\nevident to the understanding of any commander, whose hands we might\nfall into, that we were no pirates.\nBut fear, that blind useless passion, worked another way, and threw us\ninto the vapours; it bewildered our understandings, and set the\nimagination at work, to form a thousand terrible things, that, perhaps,\nmight never happen. We first supposed, as indeed every body had related\nto us, that the seamen on board the English and Dutch ships, but\nespecially the Dutch, were so enraged at the name of a pirate, and\nespecially at our beating off their boats, and escaping, that they would\nnot give themselves leave to inquire whether we were pirates or no; but\nwould execute us off-hand, as we call it, without giving us any room for\na defence. We reflected that there was really so much apparent evidence\nbefore them, that they would scarce inquire after any more: as, first,\nthat the ship was certainly the same, and that some of the seamen among\nthem knew her, and had been on board her; and, secondly, that when we\nhad intelligence at the river Cambodia, that they were coming down to\nexamine us, we fought their boats, and fled: so that we made no doubt\nbut they were as fully satisfied of our being pirates as we were\nsatisfied of the contrary; and I often said, I knew not but I should\nhave been apt to have taken the like circumstances for evidence, if the\ntables were turned, and my case was theirs; and have made no scruple of\ncutting all the crew to pieces, without believing, or perhaps\nconsidering, what they might have to offer in their defence.\nBut let that be how it will, those were our apprehensions; and both my\npartner and I too scarce slept a night without dreaming of halters and\nyard-arms; that is to say, gibbets; of fighting, and being taken; of\nkilling, and being killed; and one night I was in such a fury in my\ndream, fancying the Dutchmen had boarded us, and I was knocking one of\ntheir seamen down, that I struck my double fist against the side of the\ncabin I lay in, with such a force as wounded my hand most gievously,\nbroke my knuckles, and cut and bruised the flesh, so that it not only\nwaked me out of my sleep, but I was once afraid I should have lost two\nof my fingers.\nAnother apprehension I had, was, of the cruel usage we should meet with\nfrom them, if we fell into their hands: then the story of Amboyna came\ninto my head, and how the Dutch might, perhaps, torture us, as they did\nour countrymen there; and make some of our men, by extremity of torture,\nconfess those crimes they never were guilty of; own themselves, and all\nof us, to be pirates; and so they would put us to death, with a formal\nappearance of justice; and that they might be tempted to do this for the\ngain of our ship and cargo, which was worth four or five thousand\npounds, put all together.\nThese things tormented me, and my partner too, night and day; nor did we\nconsider that the captains of ships have no authority to act thus; and\nif we had surrendered prisoners to them, they could not answer the\ndestroying us, or torturing us, but would be accountable for it when\nthey came into their own country. This, I say, gave me no satisfaction;\nfor, if they will act thus with us, what advantage would it be to us\nthat they would be called to an account for it? or, if we were first to\nbe murdered, what satisfaction would it be to us to have them punished\nwhen they came home?\nI cannot refrain taking notice here what reflections I now had upon the\npast variety of my particular circumstances; how hard I thought it was,\nthat I, who had spent forty years in a life of continued difficulties,\nand was at last come, as it were, at the port or haven which all men\ndrive at, viz. to have rest and plenty, should be a volunteer in new\nsorrows, by my own unhappy choice; and that I, who had escaped so many\ndangers in my youth, should now come to be hanged, in my old age, and in\nso remote a place, for a crime I was not in the least inclined to, much\nless guilty of; and in a place and circumstance, where innocence was not\nlike to be any protection at all to me.\nAfter these thoughts, something of religion would come in; and I would\nbe considering that this seemed to me to be a disposition of immediate\nProvidence; and I ought to look upon it, and submit to it as such: that\nalthough I was innocent as to men, I was far from being innocent as to\nmy Maker; and I ought to look in, and examine what other crimes in my\nlife were most obvious to me, and for which Providence might justly\ninflict this punishment as a retribution; and that I ought to submit to\nthis, just as I would to a shipwreck, if it had pleased God to have\nbrought such a disaster upon me.\nIn its turn, natural courage would sometimes take its place; and then I\nwould be talking myself up to vigorous resolution, that I would not be\ntaken to be barbarously used by a parcel of merciless wretches in cold\nblood; that it was much better to have fallen into the hands of the\nsavages, who were men-eaters, and who, I was sure, would feast upon me,\nwhen they had taken me, than by those who would perhaps glut their rage\nupon me by inhuman tortures and barbarities: that, in the case of the\nsavages, I always resolved to die fighting to the last gasp; and why\nshould I not do so now, seeing it was much more dreadful, to me at\nleast, to think of falling into these men\u2019s hands, than ever it was to\nthink of being eaten by men? for the savages, give them their due, would\nnot eat a man till he was dead; and killed him first, as we do a\nbullock; but that these men had many arts beyond the cruelty of death.\nWhenever these thoughts prevailed I was sure to put myself into a kind\nof fever, with the agitations of a supposed fight; my blood would boil,\nand my eyes sparkle, as if I was engaged; and I always resolved that I\nwould take no quarter at their hands; but even at last, if I could\nresist no longer, I would blow up the ship, and all that was in her, and\nleave them but little booty to boast of.\nBut by how much the greater weight the anxieties and perplexities of\nthose things were to our thoughts while we were at sea, by so much the\ngreater was our satisfaction when we saw ourselves on shore; and my\npartner told me he dreamed that he had a very heavy load upon his back,\nwhich he was to carry up a hill, and found that he was not able to stand\nlong under it; but the Portuguese pilot came, and took it off his back,\nand the hill disappeared, the ground before him shewing all smooth and\nplain: and truly it was so; we were all like men who had a load taken\noff their backs.\nFor my part, I had a weight taken off from my heart, that I was not able\nany longer to bear; and, as I said above, we resolved to go no more to\nsea in that ship. When we came on shore, the old pilot, who was now our\nfriend, got us a lodging, and a warehouse for our goods, which, by the\nway, was much the same: it was a little house, or hut, with a large\nhouse joining to it, all built with canes, and palisadoed round with\nlarge canes, to keep out pilfering thieves, of which it seems there were\nnot a few in the country. However, the magistrates allowed us all a\nlittle guard, and we had a soldier with a kind of halbert, or half-pike,\nwho stood sentinel at our door, to whom we allowed a pint of rice, and a\nlittle piece of money, about the value of three-pence, per day: so that\nour goods were kept very safe.\nThe fair or mart usually kept in this place had been over some time;\nhowever, we found that there were three or four junks in the river, and\ntwo Japanners, I mean ships from Japan, with goods which they had bought\nin China, and were not gone away, having Japanese merchants on shore.\nThe first thing our old Portuguese pilot did for us was to bring us\nacquainted with three missionary Romish priests, who were in the town,\nand who had been there some time, converting the people to Christianity;\nbut we thought they made but poor work of it, and made them but sorry\nChristians when they had done. However, that was not our business. One\nof these was a Frenchman, whom they called Father Simon; he was a jolly\nwell-conditioned man, very free in his conversation, not seeming so\nserious and grave as the other two did, one of whom was a Portuguese,\nand the other a Genoese: but Father Simon was courteous, easy in his\nmanner, and very agreeable company; the other two were more reserved,\nseemed rigid and austere, and applied seriously to the work they came\nabout, viz. to talk with, and insinuate themselves among the inhabitants\nwherever they had opportunity. We often ate and drank with those men;\nand though I must confess, the conversion, as they call it, of the\nChinese to Christianity, is so far from the true conversion required to\nbring heathen people to the faith of Christ, that it seems to amount to\nlittle more than letting them know the name of Christ, say some prayers\nto the Virgin Mary and her Son, in a tongue which they understand not,\nand to cross themselves, and the like; yet it must be confessed that\nthese religious, whom we call missionaries, have a firm belief that\nthese people should be saved, and that they are the instrument of it;\nand, on this account, they undergo not only the fatigue of the voyage,\nand hazards of living in such places, but oftentimes death itself, with\nthe most violent tortures, for the sake of this work: and it would be a\ngreat want of charity in us, whatever opinion we have of the work\nitself, and the manner of their doing it, if we should not have a good\nopinion of their zeal, who undertake it with so many hazards, and who\nhave no prospect of the least temporal advantage to themselves.\nBut to return to my story: This French priest, Father Simon, was\nappointed, it seems, by order of the chief of the mission, to go up to\nPekin, the royal seat of the Chinese emperor; and waited only for\nanother priest, who was ordered to come to him from Macao, to go along\nwith him; and we scarce ever met together but he was inviting me to go\nthat journey with him, telling me, how he would shew me all the glorious\nthings of that mighty empire; and among the rest the greatest city in\nthe world; \u201cA city,\u201d said he, \u201cthat your London and our Paris put\ntogether cannot be equal to.\u201d This was the city of Pekin, which, I\nconfess, is very great, and infinitely full of people; but as I looked\non those things with different eyes from other men, so I shall give my\nopinion of them in few words when I come in the course of my travels to\nspeak more particularly of them.\nBut first I come to my friar or missionary: dining with him one day, and\nbeing very merry together, I showed some little inclination to go with\nhim; and he pressed me and my partner very hard, and with a great many\npersuasions, to consent. \u201cWhy, Father Simon,\u201d says my partner, \u201cwhy\nshould you desire our company so much? You know we are heretics, and you\ndo not love us, nor can keep us company with any pleasure.\u201d\u2014\u201cO!\u201d says\nhe, \u201cyou may, perhaps, be good Catholics in time; my business here is to\nconvert heathens, and who knows but I may convert you too?\u201d\u2014\u201cVery well,\nFather,\u201d said I, \u201cso you will preach to us all the way.\u201d\u2014\u201cI won\u2019t be\ntroublesome to you,\u201d said he; \u201cour religion does not divest us of good\nmanners; besides,\u201d said he, \u201cwe are all here like countrymen; and so we\nare, compared to the place we are in; and if you are Hugonots, and I a\nCatholic, we may be all Christians at last; at least,\u201d said he, \u201cwe are\nall gentlemen, and we may converse so, without being uneasy to one\nanother.\u201d I liked that part of his discourse very well, and it began to\nput me in mind of my priest that I had left in the Brasils; but this\nFather Simon did not come up to his character by a great deal; for\nthough Father Simon had no appearance of a criminal levity in him\nneither, yet he had not that fund of Christian zeal, strict piety, and\nsincere affection to religion, that my other good ecclesiastic had, of\nwhom I have said so much.\nBut to leave him a little, though he never left us, nor soliciting us to\ngo with him, but we had something else before us at that time; for we\nhad all this while our ship and our merchandise to dispose of; and we\nbegan to be very doubtful what we should do, for we were now in a place\nof very little business; and once I was about to venture to sail for\nthe river of Kilam, and the city of Nanquin: but Providence seemed now\nmore visibly, as I thought, than ever, to concern itself in our affairs;\nand I was encouraged from this very time to think I should, one way or\nother, get out of this entangled circumstance, and be brought home to my\nown country again, though I had not the least view of the manner; and\nwhen I began sometimes to think of it, could not imagine by what method\nit was to be done. Providence, I say, began here to clear up our way a\nlittle; and the first thing that offered was, that our old Portuguese\npilot brought a Japan merchant to us, who began to inquire what goods we\nhad; and, in the first place, he bought all our opium, and gave us a\nvery good price for it, paying us in gold by weight, some in small\npieces of their own coin, and some in small wedges, of about ten or\neleven ounces each. While we were dealing with him for our opium, it\ncame into my head that he might, perhaps, deal with us for the ship too;\nand I ordered the interpreter to propose it to him. He shrunk up his\nshoulders at it, when it was first proposed to him; but in a few days\nafter he came to me, with one of the missionary priests for his\ninterpreter, and told me he had a proposal to make to me, and that was\nthis: he had bought a great quantity of goods of us when he had no\nthoughts (or proposals made to him) of buying the ship, and that,\ntherefore, he had not money enough to pay for the ship; but if I would\nlet the same men who were in the ship navigate her, he would hire the\nship to go to Japan, and would send them from thence to the Philippine\nislands with another loading, which he would pay the freight of before\nthey went from Japan; and that, at their return, he would buy the ship.\nI began to listen to this proposal; and so eager did my head still run\nupon rambling, that I could not but begin to entertain a notion myself\nof going with him, and so to sail from the Philippine islands away to\nthe South Seas; and accordingly I asked the Japanese merchant if he\nwould not hire us to the Philippine islands, and discharge us there. He\nsaid, no, he could not do that, for then he could not have the return of\nhis cargo; but he would discharge us in Japan, he said, at the ship\u2019s\nreturn. Well, still I was for taking him at that proposal, and going\nmyself; but my partner, wiser than myself, persuaded me from it,\nrepresenting the dangers, as well of the seas, as of the Japanese, who\nare a false, cruel, treacherous people; and then of the Spaniards at the\nPhilippines, more false, more cruel, more treacherous than they.\nBut, to bring this long turn of our affairs to a conclusion, the first\nthing we had to do was to consult with the captain of the ship, and with\nthe men, and know if they were willing to go to Japan; and, while I was\ndoing this, the young man whom, as I said, my nephew had left with me as\nmy companion for my travels, came to me and told me that he thought that\nvoyage promised very fair, and that there was a great prospect of\nadvantage, and he would be very glad if I undertook it; but that if I\nwould not, and would give him leave, he would go as a merchant, or how I\npleased to order him; and if ever he came to England, and I was there,\nand alive, he would render me a faithful account of his success, and it\nshould be as much mine as I pleased.\nI was really loath to part with him; but considering the prospect of\nadvantage, which was really considerable, and that he was a young fellow\nas likely to do well in it as any I knew, I inclined to let him go; but\nfirst I told him, I would consult my partner, and give him an answer the\nnext day. My partner and I discoursed about it, and my partner made a\nmost generous offer: he told me, \u201cYou know it has been an unlucky ship,\nand we both resolve not to go to sea in it again; if your steward (so he\ncalled my man) will venture the voyage, I\u2019ll leave my share of the\nvessel to him, and let him make the best of it; and if we live to meet\nin England, and he meets with success abroad, he shall account for one\nhalf of the profits of the ship\u2019s freight to us, the other shall be\nhis own.\u201d\nIf my partner, who was no way concerned with my young man, made him\nsuch an offer, I could do no less than offer him the same; and all the\nship\u2019s company being willing to go with him, we made over half the ship\nto him in property, and took a writing from him, obliging him to account\nfor the other; and away he went to Japan. The Japan merchant proved a\nvery punctual honest man to him, protected him at Japan, and got him a\nlicence to come on shore, which the Europeans in general have not lately\nobtained, paid him his freight very punctually, sent him to the\nPhilippines, loaded him with Japan and China wares, and a supercargo of\ntheir own, who trafficking with the Spaniards, brought back European\ngoods again, and a great quantity of cloves and other spice; and there\nhe was not only paid his freight very well, and at a very good price,\nbut being not willing to sell the ship then, the merchant furnished him\nwith goods on his own account; that for some money and some spices of\nhis own, which he brought with him, he went back to the Manillas, to the\nSpaniards, where he sold his cargo very well. Here, having gotten a good\nacquaintance at Manilla, he got his ship made a free ship; and the\ngovernor of Manilla hired him to go to Acapulco in America, on the coast\nof Mexico; and gave him a licence to land there, and travel to Mexico;\nand to pass in any Spanish ship to Europe, with all his men.\nHe made the voyage to Acapulco very happily, and there he sold his ship;\nand having there also obtained allowance to travel by land to Porto\nBello, he found means, some how or other, to go to Jamaica with all his\ntreasure; and about eight years after came to England, exceeding rich;\nof which I shall take notice in its place; in the mean time, I return to\nour particular affairs.\nBeing now to part with the ship and ship\u2019s company, it came before us,\nof course, to consider what recompense we should give to the two men\nthat gave us such timely notice of the design against us in the river\nof Cambodia. The truth was, they had done us a considerable service, and\ndeserved well at our hands; though, by the way, they were a couple of\nrogues too: for, as they believed the story of our being pirates, and\nthat we had really run away with the ship, they came down to us, not\nonly to betray the design that was formed against us, but to go to sea\nwith us as pirates; and one of them confessed afterwards, that nothing\nelse but the hopes of going a-roguing brought him to do it. However, the\nservice they did us was not the less; and therefore, as I had promised\nto be grateful to them, I first ordered the money to be paid to them,\nwhich they said was due to them on board their respective ships; that is\nto say, the Englishman nineteen months pay, and to the Dutchman seven;\nand, over and above that, I gave each of them a small sum of money in\ngold, which contented them very well: then I made the Englishman gunner\nof the ship, the gunner being now made second mate and purser; the\nDutchman I made boatswain: so they were both very well pleased, and\nproved very serviceable, being both able seamen, and very stout fellows.\nWe were now on shore in China. If I thought myself banished, and remote\nfrom my own country at Bengal, where I had many ways to get home for my\nmoney, what could I think of myself now, when I was gotten about a\nthousand leagues farther off from home, and perfectly destitute of all\nmanner of prospect of return!\nAll we had for it was this, that in about four months time there was to\nbe another fair at that place where we were, and then we might be able\nto purchase all sorts of the manufactures of the country, and withal\nmight possibly find some Chinese junks or vessels from Nanquin, that\nwould be to be sold, and would carry us and our goods whither we\npleased. This I liked very well, and resolved to wait; besides, as our\nparticular persons were not obnoxious, so if any English or Dutch ships\ncame thither, perhaps we might have an opportunity to load our goods,\nand get passage to some other place in India nearer home.\nUpon these hopes we resolved to continue here; but, to divert ourselves,\nwe took two or three journies into the country; first, we went ten days\njourney to see the city of Nanquin, a city well worth seeing indeed:\nthey say it has a million of people in it; which, however, I do not\nbelieve: it is regularly built, the streets all exactly straight, and\ncross one another in direct lines, which gives the figure of it great\nadvantage.\nBut when I came to compare the miserable people of these countries with\nours; their fabrics, their manner of living, their government, their\nreligion, their wealth, and their glory, (as some call it) I must\nconfess, I do not so much as think it worth naming, or worth my while to\nwrite of, or any that shall come after me to read.\nIt is very observable, that we wonder at the grandeur, the riches, the\npomp, the ceremonies, the government, the manufactures, the commerce,\nand the conduct of these people; not that they are to be wondered at,\nor, indeed, in the least to be regarded; but because, having first a\nnotion of the barbarity of those countries, the rudeness and the\nignorance that prevail there, we do not expect to find any such things\nso far off.\nOtherwise, what are their buildings to the palaces and royal buildings\nof Europe? What their trade to the universal commerce of England,\nHolland, France, and Spain? What their cities to ours, for wealth,\nstrength, gaiety of apparel, rich furniture, and an infinite variety?\nWhat are their ports, supplied with a few junks and barks, to our\nnavigation, our merchants\u2019 fleets, our large and powerful navies? Our\ncity of London has more trade than all their mighty empire. One English,\nor Dutch, or French man of war of eighty guns, would fight with and\ndestroy all the shipping of China. But the greatness of their wealth,\ntheir trade, the power of their government, and strength of their\narmies are surprising to us, because, as I have said, considering them\nas a barbarous nation of pagans, little better than savages, we did not\nexpect such things among them; and this, indeed, is the advantage with\nwhich all their greatness and power is represented to us: otherwise, it\nis in itself nothing at all; for, as I have said of their ships, so it\nmay be said of their armies and troops; all the forces of their empire,\nthough they were to bring two millions of men into the field together,\nwould be able to do nothing but ruin the country and starve themselves.\nIf they were to besiege a strong town in Flanders, or to fight a\ndisciplined army, one line of German cuirassiers, or of French cavalry,\nwould overthrow all the horse of China; a million of their foot could\nnot stand before one embattled body of our infantry, posted so as not to\nbe surrounded, though they were not to be one to twenty in number: nay,\nI do not boast if I say, that 30,000 German or English foot, and 10,000\nFrench horse, would fairly beat all the forces of China. And so of our\nfortified towns, and of the art of our engineers, in assaulting and\ndefending towns; there is not a fortified town in China could hold out\none month against the batteries and attacks of an European army; and at\nthe same time, all the armies of China could never take such a town as\nDunkirk, provided it was not starved; no, not in ten years siege. They\nhave fire-arms, it is true, but they are awkward, clumsy, and uncertain\nin going off; they have powder, but it is of no strength; they have\nneither discipline in the field, exercise in their arms, skill to\nattack, nor temper to retreat. And therefore I must confess it seemed\nstrange to me when I came home, and heard our people say such fine\nthings of the power, riches, glory, magnificence, and trade of the\nChinese, because I saw and knew that they were a contemptible herd or\ncrowd of ignorant, sordid slaves, subjected to a government qualified\nonly to rule such a people; and, in a word, for I am now launched quite\nbeside my design, I say, in a word, were not its distance inconceivably\ngreat from Muscovy, and were not the Muscovite empire almost as rude,\nimpotent, and ill-governed a crowd of slaves as they, the czar of\nMuscovy might, with much ease, drive them all out of their country, and\nconquer them in one campaign; and had the czar, who I since hear is a\ngrowing prince, and begins to appear formidable in the world, fallen\nthis way, instead of attacking the warlike Swedes, in which attempt none\nof the powers of Europe would have envied or interrupted him; he might,\nby this time, have been emperor of China, instead of being beaten by the\nking of Sweden at Narva, when the latter was not one to six in number.\nAs their strength and their grandeur, so their navigation, commerce, and\nhusbandry, are imperfect and impotent, compared to the same things in\nEurope. Also, in their knowledge, their learning, their skill in the\nsciences; they have globes and spheres, and a smatch of the knowledge of\nthe mathematics; but when you come to inquire into their knowledge, how\nshort-sighted are the wisest of their students! They know nothing of the\nmotion of the heavenly bodies; and so grossly, absurdly ignorant, that\nwhen the sun is eclipsed, they think it is a great dragon has assaulted\nand run away with it; and they fall a-cluttering with all the drums and\nkettles in the country, to fright the monster away, just as we do to\nhive a swarm of bees.\nAs this is the only excursion of this kind which I have made in all the\naccount I have given of my travels, so I shall make no more descriptions\nof countries and people: it is none of my business, or any part of my\ndesign; but giving an account of my own adventures, through a life of\ninfinite wanderings, and a long variety of changes, which, perhaps, few\nhave heard the like of, I shall say nothing of the mighty places, desert\ncountries, and numerous people, I have yet to pass through, more than\nrelates to my own story, and which my concern among them will make\nnecessary. I was now, as near as I can compute, in the heart of China,\nabout the latitude of thirty degrees north of the line, for we were\nreturned from Nanquin; I had indeed a mind to see the city of Pekin,\nwhich I had heard so much of, and Father Simon importuned me daily to do\nit. At length his time of going away being set, and the other\nmissionary, who was to go with him, being arrived from Macao, it was\nnecessary that we should resolve either to go, or not to go; so I\nreferred him to my partner, and left it wholly to his choice; who at\nlength resolved it in the affirmative; and we prepared for our journey.\nWe set out with very good advantage, as to finding the way; for we got\nleave to travel in the retinue of one of their mandarins, a kind of\nviceroy, or principal magistrate, in the province where they reside, and\nwho take great state upon them, travelling with great attendance, and\nwith great homage from the people, who are sometimes greatly\nimpoverished by them, because all the countries they pass through are\nobliged to furnish provisions for them, and all their attendants. That\nwhich I particularly observed, as to our travelling with his baggage,\nwas this; that though we received sufficient provisions, both for\nourselves and our horses, from the country, as belonging to the\nmandarin, yet we were obliged to pay for every thing we had after the\nmarket-price of the country, and the mandarin\u2019s steward, or commissary\nof the provisions, collected it duly from us; so that our travelling in\nthe retinue of the mandarin, though it was a very great kindness to us,\nwas not such a mighty favour in him, but was, indeed, a great advantage\nto him, considering there were about thirty other people travelling in\nthe same manner besides us, under the protection of his retinue, or, as\nwe may call it, under his convoy. This, I say, was a great advantage to\nhim; for the country furnished all the provisions for nothing, and he\ntook all our money for them.\nWe were five-and-twenty days travelling to Pekin, through a country\ninfinitely populous, but miserably cultivated; the husbandry, economy,\nand the way of living, all very miserable, though they boast so much of\nthe industry of the people: I say miserable; and so it is; if we, who\nunderstand how to live, were to endure it, or to compare it with our\nown; but not so to these poor wretches, who know no other. The pride of\nthese people is infinitely great, and exceeded by nothing but their\npoverty, which adds to that which I call their misery. I must needs\nthink the naked savages of America live much more happy, because, as\nthey have nothing, so they desire nothing; whereas these are proud and\ninsolent, and, in the main, are mere beggars and drudges; their\nostentation is inexpressible, and is chiefly shewed in their clothes and\nbuildings, and in the keeping multitudes of servants or slaves, and,\nwhich is to the last degree ridiculous, their contempt of all the world\nbut themselves.\nI must confess, I travelled more pleasantly afterwards, in the deserts\nand vast wildernesses of Grand Tartary, than here; and yet the roads\nhere are well paved and well kept, and very convenient for travellers:\nbut nothing was more awkward to me, than to see such a haughty,\nimperious, insolent people, in the midst of the grossest simplicity and\nignorance; for all their famed ingenuity is no more. My friend Father\nSimon, and I, used to be very merry upon these occasions, to see the\nbeggarly pride of those people. For example, coming by the house of a\ncountry-gentleman, as Father Simon called him, about ten leagues off\nfrom the city of Nanquin, we had, first of all, the honour to ride with\nthe master of the house about two miles; the state he rode in was a\nperfect Don Quixotism, being a mixture of pomp and poverty.\nThe habit of this greasy Don was very proper for a scaramouch, or\nmerry-andrew; being a dirty calico, with all the tawdry trappings of a\nfool\u2019s coat, such as hanging sleeves, taffety, and cuts and slashes\nalmost on every side: it covered a rich taffety vest, as greasy as a\nbutcher, and which testified, that his honour must needs be a most\nexquisite sloven.\nHis horse was a poor, lean, starved, hobbling creature, such as in\nEngland might sell for about thirty or forty shillings; and he had two\nslaves followed him on foot, to drive the poor creature along: he had a\nwhip in his hand, and he belaboured the beast as fast about the head as\nhis slaves did about the tail; and thus he rode by us with about ten or\ntwelve servants; and we were told he was going from the city to his\ncountry-seat, about half a league before us. We travelled on gently, but\nthis figure of a gentleman rode away before us; and as we stopped at a\nvillage about an hour to refresh us, when we came by the country-seat of\nthis great man, we saw him in a little place before his door, eating his\nrepast; it was a kind of a garden, but he was easy to be seen; and we\nwere given to understand, that the more we looked on him, the better he\nwould be pleased.\nHe sat under a tree, something like the palmetto-tree, which effectually\nshaded him over the head, and on the south side; but under the tree also\nwas placed a large umbrella, which made that part look well enough: he\nsat lolling back in a great elbow-chair, being a heavy corpulent man,\nand his meat being brought him by two women-slaves: he had two more,\nwhose office, I think, few gentlemen in Europe would accept of their\nservice in, viz. one fed the squire with a spoon, and the other held the\ndish with one hand, and scraped off what he let fall upon his worship\u2019s\nbeard and taffety vest, with the other; while the great fat brute\nthought it below him to employ his own hands in any of those familiar\noffices, which kings and monarchs would rather do than be troubled with\nthe clumsy fingers of their servants.\nI took this time to think what pain men\u2019s pride puts them to, and how\ntroublesome a haughty temper, thus ill-managed, must be to a man of\ncommon sense; and, leaving the poor wretch to please himself with our\nlooking at him, as if we admired his pomp, whereas we really pitied and\ncontemned him, we pursued our journey: only Father Simon had the\ncuriosity to stay to inform himself what dainties the country justice\nhad to feed on, in all his state; which he said he had the honour to\ntaste of, and which was, I think, a dose that an English hound would\nscarce have eaten, if it had been offered him, viz. a mess of boiled\nrice, with a great piece of garlick in it, and a little bag filled with\ngreen pepper, and another plant which they have there, something like\nour ginger, but smelling like musk and tasting like mustard: all this\nwas put together, and a small lump or piece of lean mutton boiled in it;\nand this was his worship\u2019s repast, four or five servants more attending\nat a distance. If he fed them meaner than he was fed himself, the spice\nexcepted, they must fare very coarsely indeed.\nAs for our mandarin with whom we travelled, he was respected like a\nking; surrounded always with his gentlemen, and attended in all his\nappearances with such pomp, that I saw little of him but at a distance;\nbut this I observed, that there was not a horse in his retinue, but that\nour carriers\u2019 pack-horses in England seem to me to look much better; but\nthey were so covered with equipage, mantles, trappings, and such-like\ntrumpery, that you cannot see whether they are fat or lean. In a word,\nwe could scarce see any thing but their feet and their heads.\nI was now light-hearted, and all my trouble and perplexity that I had\ngiven an account of being over, I had no anxious thoughts about me;\nwhich made this journey much the pleasanter to me; nor had I any ill\naccident attended me, only in the passing or fording a small river, my\nhorse fell, and made me free of the country, as they call it; that is to\nsay, threw me in: the place was not deep, but it wetted me all over: I\nmention it, because it spoiled my pocket-book, wherein I had set down\nthe names of several people and places which I had occasion to remember,\nand which not taking due care of, the leaves rotted, and the words were\nnever after to be read, to my great loss, as to the names of some places\nwhich I touched at in this voyage.\nAt length we arrived at Pekin; I had nobody with me but the youth, whom\nmy nephew the captain had given me to attend me as a servant, and who\nproved very trusty and diligent; and my partner had nobody with him but\none servant, who was a kinsman. As for the Portuguese pilot, he being\ndesirous to see the court, we gave him his passage, that is to say, bore\nhis charges for his company; and to use him as an interpreter, for he\nunderstood the language of the country, and spoke good French and a\nlittle English; and, indeed, this old man was a most useful implement to\nus every where; for we had not been above a week at Pekin, when he came\nlaughing: \u201cAh, Seignior Inglese,\u201d said he, \u201cI have something to tell\nyou, will make your heart glad.\u201d\u2014\u201cMy heart glad,\u201d said I; \u201cwhat can\nthat be? I don\u2019t know any thing in this country can either give me joy\nor grief, to any great degree.\u201d\u2014\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said the old man, in broken\nEnglish, \u201cmake you glad, me sorrow;\u201d sorry, he would have said. This\nmade me more inquisitive. \u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201cwill it make you\nsorry?\u201d\u2014\u201cBecause,\u201d said he, \u201cyou have brought me here twenty-five days\njourney, and will leave me to go back alone; and which way shall I get\nto my port afterwards, without a ship, without a horse, without pecune?\u201d\nso he called money; being his broken Latin, of which he had abundance to\nmake us merry with.\nIn short, he told us there was a great caravan of Muscovy and Polish\nmerchants in the city, and that they were preparing to set out on their\njourney, by land, to Muscovy, within four or five weeks, and he was sure\nwe would take the opportunity to go with them, and leave him behind to\ngo back alone. I confess I was surprised with this news: a secret joy\nspread itself over my whole soul, which I cannot describe, and never\nfelt before or since; and I had no power, for a good while, to speak a\nword to the old man; but at last I turned to him: \u201cHow do you know\nthis?\u201d said I: \u201care you sure it is true?\u201d\u2014\u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cI met this\nmorning in the street an old acquaintance of mine, an Armenian, or one\nyou call a Grecian, who is among them; he came last from Astracan, and\nwas designing to go to Tonquin; where I formerly knew him, but has\naltered his mind, and is now resolved to go back with the caravan to\nMoscow, and so down the river of Wolga to Astracan.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell, Seignior,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cdo not be uneasy about being left to go back alone; if this be\na method for my return to England, it shall be your fault if you go back\nto Macao at all.\u201d We then went to consult together what was to be done,\nand I asked my partner what he thought of the pilot\u2019s news, and whether\nit would suit with his affairs: he told me he would do just as I would;\nfor he had settled all his affairs so well at Bengal, and left his\neffects in such good hands, that as we made a good voyage here, if he\ncould vest it in China silks, wrought and raw, such as might be worth\nthe carriage, he would be content to go to England, and then make his\nvoyage back to Bengal by the Company\u2019s ships.\nHaving resolved upon this, we agreed, that, if our Portuguese pilot\nwould go with us, we would bear his charges to Moscow, or to England, if\nhe pleased; nor, indeed, were we to be esteemed over-generous in that\npart neither, if we had not rewarded him farther; for the service he had\ndone us was really worth all that, and more; for he had not only been a\npilot to us at sea, but he had been also like a broker for us on shore;\nand his procuring for us the Japan merchant was some hundreds of pounds\nin our pockets. So we consulted together about it; and, being willing to\ngratify him, which was, indeed, but doing him justice, and very willing\nalso to have him with us besides, for he was a most necessary man on all\noccasions, we agreed to give him a quantity of coined gold, which, as I\ncompute it, came to about one hundred and seventy-five pounds sterling\nbetween us, and to bear his charges, both for himself and horse, except\nonly a horse to carry his goods.\nHaving settled this among ourselves, we called him to let him know what\nwe had resolved: I told him, he had complained of our being like to let\nhim go back alone, and I was now to tell him we were resolved he should\nnot go back at all: that as we had resolved to go to Europe with the\ncaravan, we resolved also he should go with us, and that we called him\nto know his mind. He shook his head, and said it was a long journey, and\nhe had no pecune to carry him thither, nor to subsist himself when he\ncame thither. We told him, we believed it was so, and therefore we had\nresolved to do something for him, that would let him see how sensible we\nwere of the service he had done us; and also how agreeable he was to us;\nand then I told him what we had resolved to give him here, which he\nmight lay out as we would do our own; and that as for his charges, if he\nwould go with us, we would set him safe ashore (life and casualties\nexcepted), either in Muscovy or in England, which he would, at our own\ncharge, except only the carriage of his goods.\nHe received the proposal like a man transported, and told us, he would\ngo with us over the whole world; and so, in short, we all prepared\nourselves for the journey. However, as it was with us, so it was with\nthe other merchants, they had many things to do; and instead of being\nready in five weeks, it was four months and some odd days before all\nthings were got together.\nIt was the beginning of February, our style, when we set out from Pekin.\nMy partner and the old pilot had gone express back to the port where we\nhad first put in, to dispose of some goods which he had left there; and\nI, with a Chinese merchant, whom I had some knowledge of at Nanquin, and\nwho came to Pekin on his own affairs, went to Nanquin, where I bought\nninety pieces of fine damasks, with about two hundred pieces of other\nvery fine silks, of several sorts, some mixed with gold, and had all\nthese brought to Pekin against my partner\u2019s return: besides this, we\nbought a very large quantity of raw silk, and some other goods; our\ncargo amounting, in these goods only, to about three thousand five\nhundred pounds sterling, which, together with tea, and some fine\ncalicoes, and three camel-loads of nutmegs and cloves, loaded in all\neighteen camels for our share, besides those we rode upon; which, with\ntwo or three spare horses, and two horses loaded with provisions, made\nus, in short, twenty-six camels and horses in our retinue.\nThe company was very great, and, as near as I can remember, made between\nthree and four hundred horses and camels, and upward of a hundred and\ntwenty men, very well armed, and provided for all events. For, as the\neastern caravans are subject to be attacked by the Arabs, so are these\nby the Tartars; but they are not altogether so dangerous as the Arabs,\nnor so barbarous when they prevail.\nThe company consisted of people of several nations, such as Muscovites\nchiefly; for there were about sixty of them who were merchants or\ninhabitants of Moscow, though of them some were Livonians; and to our\nparticular satisfaction, five of them were Scots, who appeared also to\nbe men of great experience in business, and very good substance.\nWhen we had travelled one day\u2019s journey, the guides, who were five in\nnumber, called all the gentlemen and merchants, that is to say, all the\npassengers, except the servants, to a great council, as they termed it.\nAt this great council every one deposited a certain quantity of money to\na common stock, for the necessary expense of buying forage on the way\nwhere it was not otherwise to be had, and for satisfying the guides,\ngetting horses, and the like. And here they constituted the journey, as\nthey called it, viz. they named captains and officers to draw us all up\nand give the command in case of an attack; and give every one their turn\nof command. Nor was this forming us into order any more than what we\nfound needful upon the way, as shall be observed in its place.\nThe road all on this side of the country is very populous, and is full\nof potters and earth makers; that is to say, people that tempered the\nearth for the China ware; and, as I was going along, our Portuguese\npilot, who had always something or other to say to make us merry, came\nsneering to me, and told me, he would shew the greatest rarity in all\nthe country; and that I should have this to say of China, after all the\nill humoured things I had said of it, that I had seen one thing which\nwas not to be seen in all the world beside. I was very importunate to\nknow what it was; at last he told me, it was a gentleman\u2019s house, built\nall with China ware. \u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201care not the materials of their\nbuilding the product of their own country; and so it is all China ware,\nis it not?\u201d\u2014\u201cNo, no,\u201d says he, \u201cI mean, it is a house all made of China\nware, such as you call so in England; or, as it is called in our\ncountry, porcelain.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201csuch a thing may be: how big is\nit? can we carry it in a box upon a camel? If we can, we will buy\nit.\u201d\u2014\u201cUpon a camel!\u201d said the old pilot, holding up both his hands;\n\u201cwhy, there is a family of thirty people lives in it.\u201d\nI was then curious, indeed, to see it; and when I came to see it, it was\nnothing but this: it was a timber house, or a house built, as we call it\nin England, with lath and plaster, but all the plastering was really\nChina ware, that is to say, it was plastered with the earth that makes\nChina ware.\nThe outside, which the sun shone hot upon, was glazed, and looked very\nwell, perfectly white, and painted with blue figures, as the large China\nware in England is painted, and hard, as if it had been burnt. As to the\ninside, all the walls, instead of wainscot, were lined with hardened and\npainted tiles, like the little square tiles we call gally tiles in\nEngland, all made of the finest china, and the figures exceeding fine\nindeed, with extraordinary variety of colours, mixed with gold, many\ntiles making but one figure, but joined so artificially with mortar,\nbeing made of the same earth, that it was very hard to see where the\ntiles met. The floors of the rooms were of the same composition, and as\nhard as the earthen floors we have in use in several parts of England,\nespecially Lincolnshire, Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire, &c. as hard as\nstone, and smooth, but not burnt and painted, except some smaller rooms,\nlike closets, which were all, as it were, paved with the same tile: the\nceilings, and, in a word, all the plastering work in the whole house,\nwere of the same earth; and, after all, the roof was covered with tiles\nof the same, but of a deep shining black.\nThis was a china warehouse indeed, truly and literally to be called so;\nand had I not been upon the journey, I could have staid some days to see\nand examine the particulars of it. They told me there were fountains and\nfish-ponds in the garden, all paved at the bottom and sides with the\nsame, and fine statues set up in rows on the walks, entirely formed of\nthe porcelain earth, and burnt whole.\nAs this is one of the singularities of China, so they may be allowed to\nexcel in it; but I am very sure they _excel_ in their accounts of it;\nfor they told me such incredible things of their performance in\ncrockery-ware, for such it is, that I care not to relate, as knowing it\ncould not be true.\u2014One told me, in particular, of a workman that made a\nship, with all its tackle, and masts, and sails, in earthenware, big\nenough to carry fifty men. If he had told me he launched it, and made a\nvoyage to Japan in it, I might have said something to it indeed; but as\nit was, I knew the whole story, which was, in short, asking pardon for\nthe word, that the fellow lied; so I smiled, and said nothing to it.\nThis odd sight kept me two hours behind the caravan, for which the\nleader of it for the day fined me about the value of three shillings;\nand told me, if it had been three days journey without the wall, as it\nwas three days within, he must have fined me four times as much, and\nmade me ask pardon the next council-day: so I promised to be more\norderly; for, indeed, I found afterwards the orders made for keeping all\ntogether were absolutely necessary for our common safety.\nIn two days more we passed the great China wall, made for a\nfortification against the Tartars; and a very great work it is, going\nover hills and mountains in an endless track, where the rocks are\nimpassable, and the precipices such as no enemy could possibly enter,\nor, indeed, climb up, or where, if they did, no wall could hinder them.\nThey tell us, its length is near a thousand English miles, but that the\ncountry is five hundred, in a straight measured line, which the wall\nbounds, without measuring the windings and turnings it takes: \u2019tis about\nfour fathom high, and as many thick in some places.\nI stood still an hour, or thereabouts, without trespassing on our\norders, for so long the caravan was in passing the gate; I say, I stood\nstill an hour to look at it, on every side, near and far off; I mean,\nwhat was within my view; and the guide of our caravan, who had been\nextolling it for the wonder of the world, was mighty eager to hear my\nopinion of it. I told him it was a most excellent thing to keep off the\nTartars, which he happened not to understand as I meant it, and so took\nit for a compliment; but the old pilot laughed: \u201cO, Seignior Inglese,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cyou speak in colours.\u201d\u2014\u201cIn colours!\u201d said I; \u201cwhat do you\nmean by that?\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy, you speak what looks white this way, and black\nthat way; gay one way, and dull another way: you tell him it is a good\nwall to keep out Tartars; you tell me, by that, it is good for nothing\nbut to keep out Tartars; or, will keep out none but Tartars. I\nunderstand you, Seignior Inglese, I understand you,\u201d said he, joking;\n\u201cbut Seignior Chinese understand you his own way.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cSeignior, do you think it would stand out an army of\nour country-people, with a good train of artillery; or our engineers,\nwith two companies of miners? Would they not batter it down in ten\ndays, that an army might enter in battalia, or blow it up in the air,\nfoundation and all, that there should be no sign of it left?\u201d\u2014\u201cAy, ay,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cI know that.\u201d The Chinese wanted mightily to know what I said,\nand I gave him leave to tell him a few days after, for we were then\nalmost out of their country, and he was to leave us in a little time\nafterwards; but when he knew what I had said, he was dumb all the rest\nof the way, and we heard no more of his fine story of the Chinese power\nand greatness while he staid.\nAfter we had passed this mighty nothing, called a wall, something like\nthe Picts wall, so famous in Northumberland, and built by the Romans, we\nbegan to find the country thinly inhabited, and the people rather\nconfined to live in fortified towns and cities, as being subject to the\ninroads and depredations of the Tartars, who rob in great armies, and\ntherefore are not to be resisted by the naked inhabitants of an\nopen country.\nAnd here I began to find the necessity of keeping together in a caravan,\nas we travelled; for we saw several troops of Tartars roving about; but\nwhen I came to see them distinctly, I wondered how that the Chinese\nempire could be conquered by such contemptible fellows; for they are a\nmere herd or crowd of wild fellows, keeping no order, and understanding\nno discipline, or manner of fight.\nTheir horses are poor, lean, starved creatures, taught nothing, and are\nfit for nothing; and this we found the first day we saw them, which was\nafter we entered the wilder part of the country. Our leader for the day\ngave leave for about sixteen of us to go a hunting, as they call it; and\nwhat was this but hunting of sheep! However, it may be called hunting\ntoo; for the creatures are the wildest, and swiftest of foot, that ever\nI saw of their kind; only they will not run a great way, and you are\nsure of sport when you begin the chase; for they appear generally by\nthirty or forty in a flock, and, like true sheep, always keep together\nwhen they fly.\nIn pursuit of this odd sort of game, it was our hap to meet with about\nforty Tartars: whether they were hunting mutton as we were, or whether\nthey looked for another kind of prey, I know not; but as soon as they\nsaw us, one of them blew a kind of horn very loud, but with a barbarous\nsound that I had never heard before, and, by the way, never care to hear\nagain. We all supposed this was to call their friends about them; and so\nit was; for in less than half a quarter of an hour, a troop of forty or\nfifty more appeared at about a mile distance; but our work was over\nfirst, as it happened.\nOne of the Scots merchants of Moscow happened to be amongst us; and as\nsoon as he heard the horn, he told us, in short, that we had nothing to\ndo but to charge them immediately, without loss of time; and, drawing us\nup in a line, he asked, if we were resolved? We told him, we were ready\nto follow him: so he rode directly up to them. They stood gazing at us,\nlike a mere crowd, drawn up in no order, nor shewing the face of any\norder at all; but as soon as they saw us advance, they let fly their\narrows; which, however, missed us very happily: it seems they mistook\nnot their aim, but their distance; for their arrows all fell a little\nshort of us, but with so true an aim, that had we been about twenty\nyards nearer, we must have had several men wounded, if not killed.\nImmediately we halted; and though it was at a great distance, we fired,\nand sent them leaden bullets for wooden arrows, following our shot full\ngallop, resolving to fall in among them sword in hand; for so our bold\nScot that led us, directed. He was, indeed, but a merchant, but he\nbehaved with that vigour and bravery on this occasion, and yet with such\na cool courage too, that I never saw any man in action fitter for\ncommand. As soon as we came up to them, we fired our pistols in their\nfaces, and then drew; but they fled in the greatest confusion\nimaginable; the only stand any of them made was on our right, where\nthree of them stood, and, by signs, called the rest to come back to\nthem, having a kind of scimitar in their hands, and their bows hanging\nat their backs. Our brave commander, without asking any body to follow\nhim, galloped up close to them, and with his fusil knocked one of them\noff his horse, killed the second with his pistol, and the third ran\naway; and thus ended our fight; but we had this misfortune attending it,\nviz. that all our mutton that we had in chase got away. We had not a man\nkilled or hurt; but, as for the Tartars, there were about five of them\nkilled; how many were wounded, we knew not; but this we knew, that the\nother party was so frighted with the noise of our guns, that they fled,\nand never made any attempt upon us.\nWe were all this while in the Chinese dominions, and therefore the\nTartars were not so bold as afterwards; but in about five days we\nentered a vast great wild desert, which held us three days and nights\nmarch; and we were obliged to carry our water with us in great leather\nbottles, and to encamp all night, just as I have heard they do in the\ndeserts of Arabia.\nI asked our guides, whose dominion this was in? and they told me this\nwas a kind of border that might be called No Man\u2019s Land; being part of\nthe Great Karakathy, or Grand Tartary; but that, however, it was\nreckoned to China; that there was no care taken here to preserve it from\nthe inroads of thieves; and therefore it was reckoned the worst desert\nin the whole march, though we were to go over some much larger.\nIn passing this wilderness, which, I confess, was at the first view very\nfrightful to me, we saw two or three times little parties of the\nTartars, but they seemed to be upon their own affairs, and to have no\ndesign upon us; and so, like the man who met the devil, if they had\nnothing to say to us, we had nothing to say to them; we let them go.\nOnce, however, a party of them came so near as to stand and gaze at us;\nwhether it was to consider what they should do, viz. to attack us, or\nnot attack us, we knew not; but when we were passed at some distance by\nthem, we made a rear guard of forty men, and stood ready for them,\nletting the caravan pass half a mile, or thereabouts, before us. After a\nwhile they marched off, only we found they assaulted us with five arrows\nat their parting; one of which wounded a horse, so that it disabled him;\nand we left him the next day, poor creature, in great need of a good\nfarrier. We suppose they might shoot more arrows, which might fall short\nof us; but we saw no more arrows, or Tartars, at that time.\nWe travelled near a month after this, the ways being not so good as at\nfirst, though still in the dominions of the emperor of China; but lay,\nfor the most part, in villages, some of which were fortified, because of\nthe incursions of the Tartars. When we came to one of these towns, (it\nwas about two days and a half\u2019s journey before we were to come to the\ncity of Naum) I wanted to buy a camel, of which there are plenty to be\nsold all the way upon that road, and of horses also, such as they are,\nbecause so many caravans coming that way, they are very often wanted.\nThe person that I spoke to to get me a camel, would have gone and\nfetched it for me; but I, like a fool, must be officious, and go myself\nalong with him. The place was about two miles out of the village, where,\nit seems, they kept the camels and horses feeding under a guard.\nI walked it on foot, with my old pilot in company, and a Chinese, being\ndesirous, forsooth, of a little variety. When we came to this place, it\nwas a low marshy ground, walled round with a stone wall, piled up dry,\nwithout mortar or earth among it, like a park, with a little guard of\nChinese soldiers at the doors. Having bought a camel, and agreed for the\nprice, I came away; and the Chinese man, that went with me, led the\ncamel, when on a sudden came up five Tartars on horseback: two of them\nseized the fellow, and took the camel from him, while the other three\nstepped up to me and my old pilot; seeing us, as it were, unarmed, for I\nhad no weapon about me but my sword, which could but ill defend me\nagainst three horsemen. The first that came up stopped short upon my\ndrawing my sword; (for they are arrant cowards) but a second coming upon\nmy left, gave me a blow on the head, which I never felt till afterwards,\nand wondered, when I came to myself, what was the matter with me, and\nwhere I was, for he laid me flat on the ground; but my never-failing old\npilot, the Portuguese (so Providence, unlooked for, directs deliverances\nfrom dangers, which to us are unforeseen,) had a pistol in his pocket,\nwhich I knew nothing of nor the Tartars neither; if they had, I suppose\nthey would not have attacked us; but cowards are always boldest when\nthere is no danger.\nThe old man, seeing me down, with a bold heart stepped up to the fellow\nthat had struck me, and laying hold of his arm with one hand, and\npulling him down by main force a little towards him with the other, he\nshot him into the head, and laid him dead on the spot; he then\nimmediately stepped up to him who had stopped us, as I said, and before\nhe could come forward again (for it was all done as it were in a moment)\nmade a blow at him with a scimitar, which he always wore, but, missing\nthe man, cut his horse into the side of his head, cut one of his ears\noff by the root, and a great slice down the side of his face. The poor\nbeast, enraged with the wounds, was no more to be governed by his rider,\nthough the fellow sat well enough too; but away he flew, and carried him\nquite out of the pilot\u2019s reach; and, at some distance, rising upon his\nhind legs, threw down the Tartar, and fell upon him.\nIn this interval the poor Chinese came in, who had lost the camel, but\nhe had no weapon; however, seeing the Tartar down, and his horse fallen\nupon him, he runs to him, and seizing upon an ugly ill-favoured weapon\nhe had by his side, something like a pole-axe, but not a pole-axe\neither, he wrenched it from him, and made shift to knock his Tartarian\nbrains out with it. But my old man had the third Tartar to deal with\nstill; and, seeing he did not fly as he expected, nor come on to fight\nhim, as he apprehended, but stood stock still, the old man stood still\ntoo, and falls to work with his tackle to charge his pistol again: but\nas soon as the Tartar saw the pistol, whether he supposed it to be the\nsame or another, I know not; but away he scoured, and left my pilot, my\nchampion I called him afterwards, a complete victory.\nBy this time I was a little awake; for I thought, when I first began to\nawake, that I had been in a sweet sleep; but as I said above, I wondered\nwhere I was, how I came upon the ground, and what was the matter: in a\nword, a few minutes after, as sense returned, I felt pain, though I did\nnot know where; I clapped my hand to my head, and took it away bloody;\nthen I felt my head ache, and then, in another moment, memory returned,\nand every thing was present to me again.\nI jumped up upon my feet instantly, and got hold of my sword, but no\nenemies in view. I found a Tartar lie dead, and his horse standing very\nquietly by him; and looking farther, I saw my champion and deliverer,\nwho had been to see what the Chinese had done, coming back with his\nhanger in his hand. The old man, seeing me on my feet, came running to\nme, and embraced me with a great deal of joy, being afraid before that I\nhad been killed; and seeing me bloody, would see how I was hurt; but it\nwas not much, only what we call a broken head; neither did I afterwards\nfind any great inconvenience from the blow, other than the place which\nwas hurt, and which was well again in two or three days.\nWe made no great gain, however, by this victory; for we lost a camel,\nand gained a horse: but that which was remarkable, when we came back to\nthe village, the man demanded to be paid for the camel; I disputed it,\nand it was brought to a hearing before the Chinese judge of the place;\nthat is to say, in English, we went before a justice of the peace. Give\nhim his due, he acted with a great deal of prudence and impartiality;\nand having heard both sides, he gravely asked the Chinese man that went\nwith me to buy the camel, whose servant he was? \u201cI am no servant,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cbut went with the stranger.\u201d\u2014\u201cAt whose request?\u201d said the justice.\n\u201cAt the stranger\u2019s request,\u201d said he. \u201cWhy then,\u201d said the justice, \u201cyou\nwere the stranger\u2019s servant for the time; and the camel being delivered\nto his servant, it was delivered to him, and he must pay for it.\u201d\nI confess the thing was so clear, that I had not a word to say; but\nadmiring to see such just reasoning upon the consequence, and so\naccurate stating the case, I paid willingly for the camel, and sent for\nanother; but you may observe, _I sent_ for it; I did not go to fetch it\nmyself any more; I had had enough of that.\nThe city of Naum is a frontier of the Chinese empire: they call it\nfortified, and so it is, as fortifications go there; for this I will\nventure to affirm, that all the Tartars in Karakathy, which, I believe,\nare some millions, could not batter down the walls with their bows and\narrows; but to call it strong, if it were attacked with cannon, would be\nto make those who understand it laugh at you.\nWe wanted, as I have said, about two days journey of this city, when\nmessengers were sent express to every part of the road, to tell all\ntravellers and caravans to halt, till they had a guard sent to them; for\nthat an unusual body of Tartars, making ten thousand in all, had\nappeared in the way, about thirty miles beyond the city.\nThis was very bad news to travellers; however, it was carefully done of\nthe governor, and we were very glad to hear we should have a guard.\nAccordingly, two days after, we had two hundred soldiers sent us from a\ngarrison of the Chinese on our left, and three hundred more from the\ncity of Naum, and with those we advanced boldly: the three hundred\nsoldiers from Naum marched in our front, the two hundred in our rear,\nand our men on each side of our camels with our baggage, and the whole\ncaravan in the centre. In this order, and well prepared for battle, we\nthought ourselves a match for the whole ten thousand Mogul Tartars, if\nthey had appeared; but the next day, when they did appear, it was quite\nanother thing.\nIt was early in the morning, when marching from a little well-situated\ntown, called Changu, we had a river to pass, where we were obliged to\nferry; and had the Tartars had any intelligence, then had been the time\nto have attacked us, when, the caravan being over, the rear-guard was\nbehind: but they did not appear there.\nAbout three hours after, when we were entered upon, a desert of about\nfifteen or sixteen miles over, behold, by a cloud of dust they raised,\nwe saw an enemy was at hand; and they were at hand indeed, for they came\non upon the spur.\nThe Chinese, our guard on the front, who had talked so big the day\nbefore, began to stagger, and the soldiers frequently looked behind\nthem; which is a certain sign in a soldier, that he is just ready to run\naway. My old pilot was of my mind; and being near me, he called out:\n\u201cSeignior Inglese,\u201d said he, \u201cthose fellows must be encouraged, or they\nwill ruin us all; for if the Tartars come on, they will never stand\nit.\u201d\u2014\u201cI am of your mind,\u201d said I: \u201cbut what course must be\ndone?\u201d\u2014\u201cDone?\u201d said he; \u201clet fifty of our men advance, and flank them\non each wing, and encourage them, and they will fight like brave fellows\nin brave company: but without it, they will every man turn his back.\u201d\nImmediately I rode up to our leader, and told him, who was exactly of\nour mind; and accordingly fifty of us marched to the right wing, and\nfifty to the left, and the rest made a line of reserve; for so we\nmarched, leaving the last two hundred men to make another body to\nthemselves, and to guard the camels; only that, if need were, they\nshould send a hundred men to assist the last fifty.\nIn a word, the Tartars came on, and an innumerable company they were;\nhow many, we could not tell, but ten thousand we thought was the least.\nA party of them came on first, and viewed our posture, traversing the\nground in the front of our line; and as we found them within gun-shot,\nour leader ordered the two wings to advance swiftly, and give them a\n_salvo_ on each wing with their shot, which was done; but they went off,\nand I suppose went back to give an account of the reception they were\nlike to meet with; and, indeed, that salute clogged their stomachs; for\nthey immediately halted, stood awhile to consider of it, and, wheeling\noff to the left, they gave over the design, and said no more to us for\nthat time; which was very agreeable to our circumstances, which were but\nvery indifferent for a battle with such a number.\nTwo days after this we came to the city of Naum, or Naunm. We thanked\nthe governor for his care for us, and collected to the value of one\nhundred crowns, or thereabouts, which we gave to the soldiers sent to\nguard us; and here we rested one day. This is a garrison indeed, and\nthere were nine hundred soldiers kept here; but the reason of it was,\nthat formerly the Muscovite frontiers lay nearer to them than they do\nnow, the Muscovites having abandoned that part of the country (which\nlies from the city west, for about two hundred miles) as desolate and\nunfit for use; and more especially, being so very remote, and so\ndifficult to send troops hither for its defence; for we had yet above\ntwo thousand miles to Muscovy, properly so called.\nAfter this we passed several great rivers, and two dreadful deserts, one\nof which we were sixteen days passing over, and which, as I said, was to\nbe called No Man\u2019s Land; and on the 13th of April we came to the\nfrontiers of the Muscovite dominions. I think the first city, or town,\nor fortress, whatever it might be called, that belonged to the czar of\nMuscovy, was called Argun, being on the west side of the river Argun.\nI could not but discover an infinite satisfaction; that I was now\narrived in, as I called it, a Christian country; or, at least, in a\ncountry governed by Christians: for though the Muscovites do, in my\nopinion, but just deserve the name of Christians (yet such they pretend\nto be, and are very devout in their way:) it would certainly occur to\nany man who travels the world as I have done, and who had any power of\nreflection; I say, it would occur to him, to reflect, what a blessing it\nis to be brought into the world where the name of God, and of a\nRedeemer, is known, worshipped, and adored\u2014and not where the people,\ngiven up by Heaven to strong delusions, worship the devil, and prostrate\nthemselves to stocks and stones; worship monsters, elements,\nhorrible-shaped animals, and statues, or images of monsters. Not a town\nor city we passed through but had their pagods, their idols, and their\ntemples; and ignorant people worshipping even the works of their\nown hands!\nNow we came where, at least, a face of the Christian worship appeared,\nwhere the knee was bowed to Jesus; and whether ignorantly or not, yet\nthe Christian religion was owned, and the name of the true God was\ncalled upon and adored; and it made the very recesses of my soul rejoice\nto see it. I saluted the brave Scotch merchant I mentioned above, with\nmy first acknowledgment of this; and, taking him by the hand, I said to\nhim, \u201cBlessed be God, we are once again come among Christians!\u201d He\nsmiled, and answered, \u201cDo not rejoice too soon, countryman; these\nMuscovites are but an odd sort of Christians; and but for the name of\nit, you may see very little of the substance for some months farther of\nour journey.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cbut still it is better than paganism, and worshipping\nof devils.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy, I\u2019ll tell you,\u201d said he; \u201cexcept the Russian soldiers\nin garrisons, and a few of the inhabitants of the cities upon the road,\nall the rest of this country, for above a thousand miles farther, is\ninhabited by the worst and most ignorant of pagans.\u201d And so indeed\nwe found it.\nWe were now launched into the greatest piece of solid earth, if I\nunderstand any thing of the surface of the globe, that is to be found in\nany part of the world: we had at least twelve hundred miles to the sea,\neastward; we had at least two thousand to the bottom of the Baltic sea,\nwestward; and almost three thousand miles, if we left that sea, and went\non west to the British and French channels; we had full five thousand\nmiles to the Indian or Persian sea, south; and about eight hundred miles\nto the Frozen sea, north; nay, if some people may be believed, there\nmight be no sea north-east till we came round the pole, and consequently\ninto the north-west, and so had a continent of land into America, no\nmortal knows where; though I could give some reasons why I believe that\nto be a mistake too.\nAs we entered into the Muscovite dominions, a good while before we came\nto any considerable town, we had nothing to observe there but this:\nfirst, that all the rivers run to the east. As I understood by the\ncharts which some of our caravans had with them, it was plain that all\nthose rivers ran into the great river Yamour, or Gammour. This river, by\nthe natural course of it, must run into the east sea, or Chinese ocean.\nThe story they tell us, that the mouth of this river is choked up with\nbulrushes of a monstrous growth, viz. three feet about, and twenty or\nthirty feet high, I must be allowed to say I believe nothing of; but as\nits navigation is of no use, because there is no trade that way, the\nTartars, to whom alone it belongs, dealing in nothing but cattle; so\nnobody that ever I heard or, has been curious enough either to go down\nto the mouth of it in boats, or to come up from the mouth of it in\nships; but this is certain, that this river running due east, in the\nlatitude of sixty degrees, carries a vast concourse of rivers along with\nit, and finds an ocean to empty itself in that latitude; so we are sure\nof sea there.\nSome leagues to the north of this river there are several considerable\nrivers, whose streams run as due north as the Yamour runs east; and\nthese are all found to join their waters with the great river Tartarus,\nnamed so from the northernmost nations of the Mogul Tartars, who, the\nChinese say, were the first Tartars in the world; and who, as our\ngeographers allege, are the Gog and Magog mentioned in sacred story.\nThese rivers running all northward, as well as all the other rivers I am\nyet to speak of, made it evident that the northern ocean bounds the land\nalso on that side; so that it does not seem rational in the least to\nthink that the land can extend itself to join with America on that side,\nor that there is not a communication between the northern and the\neastern ocean; but of this I shall say no more; it was my observation at\nthat time, and therefore I take notice of it in this place. We now\nadvanced from the river Arguna by easy and moderate journies, and were\nvery visibly obliged to the care the czar of Muscovy has taken to have\ncities and towns built in as many places as are possible to place them,\nwhere his soldiers keep garrison, something, like the stationary\nsoldiers placed by the Romans in the remotest countries of their empire,\nsome of which I had read were particularly placed in Britain for the\nsecurity of commerce, and for the lodging of travellers; and thus it was\nhere; though wherever we came at these towns and stations the garrisons\nand governor were Russians and professed mere pagans, sacrificing to\nidols, and worshipping the sun, moon, and stars, or all the host of\nheaven; and not only so, but were, of all the heathens and pagans that\never I met with, the most barbarous, except only that they did not eat\nman\u2019s flesh, as our savages of America did.\nSome instances of this we met with in the country between Arguna, where\nwe enter the Muscovite dominions, and a city of Tartars and Russians\ntogether, called Nertzinskay; in which space is a continued desert or\nforest, which cost us twenty days to travel over it. In a village near\nthe last of those places, I had the curiosity to go and see their way of\nliving; which is most brutish and unsufferable: they had, I suppose, a\ngreat sacrifice that day; for there stood out upon an old stump of a\ntree, an idol made of wood, frightful as the devil; at least as any\nthing we can think of to represent the devil that can be made. It had a\nhead certainly not so much as resembling any creature that the world\never saw; ears as big as goats\u2019 horns, and as high; eyes as big as a\ncrown-piece; and a nose like a crooked ram\u2019s horn, and a mouth extended\nfour-cornered, like that of a lion, with horrible teeth, hooked like a\nparrot\u2019s under bill. It was dressed up in the filthiest manner that you\ncan suppose; its upper garment was of sheep-skins, with the wool\noutward; a great Tartar bonnet on the head, with two horns growing\nthrough it: it was about eight feet high, yet had no feet or legs, or\nany other proportion of parts.\nThis scarecrow was set up at the outside of the village; and when I came\nnear to it, there were sixteen or seventeen creatures, whether men or\nwomen I could not tell, for they make no distinction by their habits,\neither of body or head; these lay all flat on the ground, round this\nformidable block of shapeless wood. I saw no motion among them any more\nthan if they had been logs of wood, like their idol; at first I really\nthought they had been so; but when I came a little nearer, they started\nup upon their feet, and raised a howling cry, as if it had been so many\ndeep-mouthed hounds, and walked away as if they were displeased at our\ndisturbing them. A little way off from this monster, and at the door of\na tent or hut, made all of sheep-skins and cow-skins, dried, stood three\nbutchers: I thought they were such; for when I came nearer to them, I\nfound they had long knives in their hands, and in the middle of the tent\nappeared three sheep killed, and one young bullock, or steer. These, it\nseems, were sacrifices to that senseless log of an idol; and these three\nmen priests belonging to it; and the seventeen prostrated wretches were\nthe people who brought the offering, and were making their prayers to\nthat stock.\nI confess I was more moved at their stupidity, and this brutish worship\nof a hobgoblin, than ever I was at any thing in my life: to see God\u2019s\nmost glorious and best creature, to whom he had granted so many\nadvantages, even by creation, above the rest of the works of his hands,\nvested with a reasonable soul, and that soul adorned with faculties and\ncapacities adapted both to honour his Maker and be honoured by him; I\nsay, to see it sunk and degenerated to a degree so more than stupid, as\nto prostrate itself to a frightful nothing, a mere imaginary object\ndressed up by themselves, and made terrible to themselves by their own\ncontrivance, adorned only with clouts and rags; and that this should be\nthe effect of mere ignorance, wrought up into hellish devotion by the\ndevil himself; who, envying his Maker the homage and adoration of his\ncreatures, had deluded them into such gross, surfeiting, sordid, and\nbrutish things, as one would think should shock nature itself.\nBut what signified all the astonishment and reflection of thoughts? Thus\nit was, and I saw it before my eyes; and there was no room to wonder at\nit, or think it impossible. All my admiration turned to rage; and I rode\nup to the image or monster, call it what you will, and with my sword cut\nthe bonnet that was on its head in two in the middle, so that it hung\ndown by one of the horns; and one of our men that was with me, took hold\nof the sheep skin that covered it, and pulled at it, when, behold, a\nmost hideous outcry and howling ran through the village, and two or\nthree hundred people came about my ears, so that I was glad to scour for\nit; for we saw some had bows and arrows; but I resolved from that moment\nto visit them again.\nOur caravan rested three nights at the town, which was about four miles\noff, in order to provide some horses, which they wanted, several of the\nhorses having been lamed and jaded with the badness of the way, and our\nlong march over the last desert; so we had some leisure here to put my\ndesign in execution. I communicated my project to the Scots merchant, of\nMoscow, of whose courage I had had a sufficient testimony, as above. I\ntold him what I had seen, and with what indignation I had since thought\nthat human nature could be so degenerate. I told him, I was resolved,\nif I could get but four or five men well armed to go with me, to go and\ndestroy that vile, abominable idol; to let them see, that it had no\npower to help itself, and consequently could not be an object of\nworship, or to be prayed to, much less help them that offered\nsacrifices to it.\nHe laughed at me: said he, \u201cYour zeal may be good; but what do you\npropose to yourself by it?\u201d\u2014\u201cPropose!\u201d said I: \u201cto vindicate the\nhonour of God, which is insulted by this devil-worship.\u201d\u2014\u201cBut how will\nit vindicate the honour of God,\u201d said he, \u201cwhile the people will not be\nable to know what you mean by it, unless you could speak to them too,\nand tell them so? and then they will fight you too, I will assure you,\nfor they are desperate fellows, and that especially in defence of their\nidolatry.\u201d\u2014\u201cCan we not,\u201d said I, \u201cdo it in the night, and then leave\nthem the reasons in writing, in their own language?\u201d\u2014\u201cWriting!\u201d said\nhe; \u201cwhy, there is not in five nations of them one man that knows any\nthing of a letter, or how to read a word in any language, or in their\nown.\u201d\u2014\u201cWretched ignorance!\u201d said I to him: \u201chowever, I have a great\nmind to do it; perhaps nature may draw inferences from it to them, to\nlet them see how brutish they are to worship such horrid things.\u201d\u2014\u201cLook\nyou, Sir,\u201d said he; \u201cif your zeal prompts you to it so warmly, you must\ndo it; but in the next place, I would have you consider these wild\nnations of people are subjected by force to the czar of Muscovy\u2019s\ndominion; and if you do this, it is ten to one but they will come by\nthousands to the governor of Nertzinskay, and complain, and demand\nsatisfaction; and if he cannot give them satisfaction, it is ten to one\nbut they revolt; and it will occasion a new war with all the Tartars in\nthe country.\u201d\nThis, I confess, put new thoughts into my head for a while; but I harped\nupon the same string still; and all that day I was uneasy to put my\nproject in execution. Towards the evening the Scots merchant met me by\naccident in our walk about the town, and desired to speak with me: \u201cI\nbelieve,\u201d said he, \u201cI have put you off your good design; I have been a\nlittle concerned about it since; for I abhor the idol and idolatry as\nmuch as you can do.\u201d\u2014\u201cTruly,\u201d said I, \u201cyou have put it off a little, as\nto the execution of it, but you have not put it all out of my thoughts;\nand, I believe, I shall do it still before I quit this place, though I\nwere to be delivered up to them for satisfaction.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo, no,\u201d said he,\n\u201cGod forbid they should deliver you up to such a crew of monsters! they\nshall not do that neither; that would be murdering you indeed.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhy,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201chow would they use me?\u201d\u2014\u201cUse you!\u201d said he: \u201cI\u2019ll tell you how\nthey served a poor Russian, who affronted them in their worship just as\nyou did, and whom they took prisoner, after they had lamed him with an\narrow, that he could not run away: they took him and stripped him stark\nnaked, and set him upon the top of the idol monster, and stood all round\nhim, and shot as many arrows into him as would stick over his whole\nbody; and then they burnt him, and all the arrows sticking in him, as a\nsacrifice to the idol.\u201d\u2014\u201cAnd was this the same idol:\u201d said I.\u2014\u201cYes,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cthe very same.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cI will tell you a story.\u201d So\nI related the story of our men at Madagascar, and how they burnt and\nsacked the village there, and killed man, woman, and child, for their\nmurdering one of our men, just as it is related before; and when I had\ndone, I added, that I thought we ought to do so to this village.\nHe listened very attentively to the story; but when I talked of doing so\nto that village, said he, \u201cYou mistake very much; it was not this\nvillage, it was almost a hundred miles from this place; but it was the\nsame idol, for they carry him about in procession all over the\ncountry.\u201d\u2014\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cthen that idol ought to be punished for it;\nand it shall,\u201d said I, \u201cif I live this night out.\u201d\nIn a word, finding me resolute, he liked the design, and told me, I\nshould not go alone, but he would go with me; but he would go first,\nand bring a stout fellow, one of his countrymen, to go also with us;\n\u201cand one,\u201d said he, \u201cas famous for his zeal as you can desire any one to\nbe against such devilish things as these.\u201d In a word, he brought me his\ncomrade a Scotsman, whom he called Captain Richardson; and I gave him a\nfull account of what I had seen, and also what I intended; and he told\nme readily, he would go with me, if it cost him his life. So we agreed\nto go, only we three. I had, indeed, proposed it to my partner, but he\ndeclined it. He said, he was ready to assist me to the utmost, and upon\nall occasions, for my defence; but that this was an adventure quite out\nof his way: so, I say, we resolved upon our work, only we three, and my\nman-servant, and to put it in execution that night about midnight, with\nall the secresy imaginable.\nHowever, upon second thoughts, we were willing to delay it till the next\nnight, because the caravan being to set forward in the morning, we\nsupposed the governor could not pretend to give them any satisfaction\nupon us when we were out of his power. The Scots merchant, as steady in\nhis resolution to enterprise it as bold in executing, brought me a\nTartar\u2019s robe or gown of sheep-skins, and a bonnet, with a bow and\narrows, and had provided the same for himself and his countryman, that\nthe people, if they saw us, should not be able to determine who we were.\nAll the first night we spent in mixing up some combustible matter with\naqua-vit\u00e6, gunpowder, and such other materials as we could get; and,\nhaving a good quantity of tar in a little pot, about an hour after night\nwe set out upon our expedition.To makee te great wonder look\nWe came to the place about eleven o\u2019clock at night, and found that the\npeople had not the least jealousy of danger attending their idol. The\nnight was cloudy; yet the moon gave us light enough to see that the idol\nstood just in the same posture and place that it did before. The people\nseemed to be all at their rest; only, that in the great hut, or tent as\nwe called it, where we saw the three priests, whom we mistook for\nbutchers, we saw a light, and going up close to the door, we heard\npeople talking, as if there were five or six of them; we concluded,\ntherefore, that if we set wildfire to the idol, these men would come out\nimmediately, and run up to the place to rescue it from the destruction\nthat we intended for it; and what to do with them we knew not. Once we\nthought of carrying it away, and setting fire to it at a distance, but\nwhen we came to handle it we found it too bulky for our carriage; so we\nwere at a loss again. The second Scotsman was for setting fire to the\ntent or hut, and knocking the creatures that were there on the head,\nwhen they came out; but I could not join with that; I was against\nkilling them, if it was possible to be avoided. \u201cWell then,\u201d said the\nScots merchant, \u201cI will tell you what we will do; we will try to make\nthem prisoners, tie their hands, and make them stand and see their idol\ndestroyed.\u201d\nAs it happened, we had twine or packthread enough about us, which we\nused to tie our fire-works together with; so we resolved to attack these\npeople first, and with as little noise as we could. The first thing we\ndid, we knocked at the door, when one of the priests coming to it, we\nimmediately seized upon him, stopped his mouth, and tied his hands\nbehind him, and led him to the idol, where we gagged him that he might\nnot make a noise, tied his feet also together, and left him on\nthe ground.\nTwo of us then waited at the door, expecting that another would come out\nto see what the matter was; but we waited so long till the third man\ncame back to us; and then nobody coming out, we knocked again gently,\nand immediately out came two more, and we served them just in the same\nmanner, but were obliged to go all with them, and lay them down by the\nidol some distance from one another; when going back we found two more\nwere come out to the door, and a third stood behind them within the\ndoor. We seized the two, and immediately tied them, when the third\nstepping back, and crying out, my Scots merchant went in after him, and\ntaking out a composition we had made, that would only smoke and stink,\nhe set fire to it, and threw it in among them: by that time the other\nScotsman and my man taking charge of the two men already bound, and tied\ntogether also by the arm, led them away to the idol, and left them\nthere, to see if their idol would relieve them, making haste back to us.\nWhen the furze we had thrown in had filled the hut with so much smoke\nthat they were almost suffocated, we then threw in a small leather bag\nof another kind, which flamed like a candle, and following it in, we\nfound there were but four people left, who, it seems, were two men and\ntwo women, and, as we supposed, had been about some of their diabolic\nsacrifices. They appeared, in short, frighted to death, at least so as\nto sit trembling and stupid, and not able to speak neither, for\nthe smoke.\nIn a word, we took them, bound them as we had the other, and all without\nany noise, I should have said, we brought them out of the house, or hut,\nfirst; for, indeed, we were not able to bear the smoke any; more than\nthey were. When we had done this, we carried them all together to the\nidol: when we came there we fell to work with him; and first we daubed\nhim all over, and his robes also, with tar, and such other stuff as we\nhad, which was tallow mixed with brimstone; then we stopped his eyes,\nand ears, and, mouth full of gunpowder; then we wrapped up a great piece\nof wildfire in his bonnet; and then sticking all the combustibles we had\nbrought with us upon him, we looked about to see if we could find any\nthing else to help to burn him; when my Scotsman remembered that by the\ntent, or hut, where the men were, there lay a heap of dry forage,\nwhether straw or rushes I do not remember: away he and the other\nScotsman ran, and fetched their arms full of that. When we had done\nthis, we took all our prisoners, and brought them, having untied their\nfeet and ungagged their mouths, and made them stand up, and set them\nall before their monstrous idol, and then set fire to the whole.\nWe stayed by it a quarter of an hour, or thereabouts, til the powder in\nthe eyes, and mouth, and ears of the idol blew up, and, as we could\nperceive, had split and deformed the shape of it; and, in a word, till\nwe saw it burnt into a mere block or log of wood; and then igniting the\ndry forage to it, we found it would be soon quite consumed; so we began\nto think of going away; but the Scotsman said, \u201cNo, we must not go, for\nthese poor deluded wretches will all throw themselves into the fire, and\nburn themselves with the idol.\u201d So we resolved to stay till the forage\nwas burnt down too, and then we came away and left them.\nIn the morning we appeared among our fellow-travellers, exceeding busy\nin getting ready for our journey; nor could any man suggest that we had\nbeen any where but in our beds, as travellers might be supposed to be,\nto fit themselves for the fatigues of that day\u2019s journey.\nBut it did not end so; for the next day came a great multitude of the\ncountry people, not only of this village, but of a hundred more, for\naught I know, to the town-gates; and in a most outrageous manner\ndemanded satisfaction of the Russian governor, for the insulting their\npriests, and burning their great Cham-Chi-Thaungu; such a hard name they\ngave the monstrous creature they worshipped. The people of Nertzinskay\nwere at first in a great consternation; for they said the Tartars were\nno less than thirty thousand, and that in a few days more they would be\none hundred thousand stronger.\nThe Russian governor sent out messengers to appease them, and gave them\nall the good words imaginable. He assured them he knew nothing of it,\nand that there had not a soul of his garrison been abroad; that it could\nnot be from any body there; and if they would let him know who it was,\nhe should be exemplarily punished. They returned haughtily, That all the\ncountry reverenced the great Cham-Chi-Thaungu, who dwelt in the son,\nand no mortal would have dared to offer violence to his image, but some\nChristian miscreant; so they called them, it seems; and they therefore\ndenounced war against him, and all the Russians, who, they said, were\nmiscreants and Christians.\nThe governor, still patient, and unwilling to make a breach, or to have\nany cause of war alleged to be given by him, the czar having straitly\ncharged him to treat the conquered country with gentleness and civility,\ngave them still all the good words he could; at last he told them, there\nwas a caravan gone towards Russia that morning, and perhaps it was some\nof them who had done them this injury; and that, if they would be\nsatisfied with that, he would send after them, to inquire into it. This\nseemed to appease them a little; and accordingly the governor sent after\nus, and gave us a particular account how the thing was, intimating\nwithal, that if any in our caravan had done it, they should make their\nescape; but that whether they had done it or no, we should make all the\nhaste forward that was possible; and that in the meantime he would keep\nthem in play as long as he could.\nThis was very friendly in the governor. However, when it came to the\ncaravan, there was nobody knew any thing of the matter; and, as for us\nthat were guilty, we were the least of all suspected; none so much as\nasked us the question; however, the captain of the caravan, for the\ntime, took the hint that the governor gave us, and we marched or\ntravelled two days and two nights without any considerable stop, and\nthen we lay at a village called Plothus; nor did we make any long stop\nhere, but hastened on towards Jarawena, another of the czar of Muscovy\u2019s\ncolonies, and where we expected we should be safe; but it is to be\nobserved, that here we began, for two or three days march, to enter upon\na vast nameless desert, of which I shall say more in its place; and\nwhich if we had now been upon it, it is more than probable we had been\nall destroyed. It was the second day\u2019s march from Plothus that by the\nclouds of dust behind us at a great distance, some of our people began\nto be sensible we were pursued; we had entered the desert, and had\npassed by a great lake, called Schanks Osier, when we perceived a very\ngreat body of horse appear on the other side of the lake to the north,\nwe travelling west. We observed they went away west, as we did; but had\nsupposed we should have taken that side of the lake, whereas we very\nhappily took the south side: and in two days more we saw them not, for\nthey, believing we were still before them, pushed on, till they came to\nthe river Udda: this is a very great river when it passes farther north,\nbut when we came to it, we found it narrow and fordable.\nThe third day they either found their mistake, or had intelligence of\nus, and came pouring in upon us towards the dusk of the evening. We had,\nto our great satisfaction, just pitched upon a place for our camp, which\nwas very convenient for the night; for as we were upon a desert, though\nbut at the beginning of it, that was above five hundred miles over, we\nhad no towns to lodge at, and, indeed, expected none but the city of\nJarawena, which we had yet two days march to; the desert, however, had\nsome few woods in it on this side, and little river, which ran all into\nthe great river Udda. It was in a narrow strait, between two small but\nvery thick woods, that we pitched our little camp for that night,\nexpecting to be attacked in the night.\nNobody knew but ourselves what we were pursued for; but as it was usual\nfor the Mogul Tartars to go about in troops in that desert, so the\ncaravans always fortify themselves every night against them, as against\narmies of robbers; and it was therefore no new thing to be pursued.\nBut we had this night, of all the nights of our travels, a most\nadvantageous camp; for we lay between two woods, with a little rivulet\nrunning just before our front; so that we could not be surrounded or\nattacked any way, but in our front or rear: we took care also to make\nour front as strong as we could, by placing our packs, with our camels\nand horses, all in a line on the side of the river, and we felled some\ntrees in our rear.\nIn this posture we encamped for the night; but the enemy was upon us\nbefore we had finished our situation: they did not come on us like\nthieves, as we expected, but sent three messengers to us, to demand the\nmen to be delivered to them, that had abused their priests, and burnt\ntheir god Cham-Chi-Thaungu, that they might burn them with fire; and,\nupon this, they said, they would go away, and do us no farther harm,\notherwise they would burn us all with fire. Our men looked very blank at\nthis message, and began to stare at one another, to see who looked with\nmost guilt in their faces, but, _nobody_ was the word, nobody did it.\nThe leader of the caravan sent word, he was well assured it was not\ndone, by any of our camp; that we were peaceable merchants, travelling\non our business; that we had done no harm to them, or to any one else;\nand therefore they must look farther for their enemies, who had injured\nthem, for we were not the people; so desired them not to disturb us;\nfor, if they did, we should defend ourselves.\nThey were far from being satisfied with this for an answer, and a great\ncrowd of them came down in the morning, by break of day, to our camp;\nbut, seeing us in such an advantageous situation, they durst come no\nfarther than the brook in our front, where they stood, and shewed us\nsuch a number, as, indeed, terrified us very much; for those that spoke\nleast of them, spoke of ten thousand. Here they stood, and looked at us\nawhile, and then setting up a great howl, they let fly a cloud of arrows\namong us; but we were well enough fortified for that, for we were\nsheltered under our baggage; and I do not remember that one man of\nus was hurt.\nSome time after this we saw them move a little to our right, and\nexpected them on the rear, when a cunning fellow, a Cossack, as they\ncall them, of Jarawena, in the pay of the Muscovites, calling to the\nleader of the caravan, said to him, \u201cI will send all these people away\nto Sibeilka.\u201d This was a city four or five days journey at least to the\nsouth, and rather behind us. So he takes his bow and arrows, and,\ngetting on horseback, he rides away from our rear directly, as it were,\nback to Nertzinskay; after this, he takes a great circuit about, and\ncomes to the army of the Tartars, as if he had been sent express to tell\nthem a long story, that the people who had burnt their Cham-Chi-Thaungu\nwere gone to Sibeilka, with a caravan of miscreants, as he called them;\nthat is to say, Christians; and that they were resolved to burn the god\nSeal Isarg, belonging to the Tonguses.\nAs this fellow was a mere Tartar, and perfectly spoke their language, he\ncounterfeited so well, that they all took it from him, and away they\ndrove, in a most violent hurry, to Sibeilka, which, it seems, was five\ndays journey to the south; and in less than three hours they were\nentirely out of our sight, and we never heard any more of them, nor ever\nknew whether they went to that other place called Sibeilka or no.\nSo we passed safely on to the city of Jarawena, where there was a\ngarrison of Muscovites; and there we rested five days, the caravan being\nexceedingly fatigued with the last day\u2019s march, and with want of rest in\nthe night.\nFrom this city we had a frightful desert, which held us three-and-twenty\ndays march. We furnished ourselves with some tents here, for the better\naccommodating ourselves in the night; and the leader of the caravan\nprocured sixteen carriages, or waggons, of the country, for carrying our\nwater and provisions; and these carriages were our defence every night\nround our little camp; so that had the Tartars appeared, unless they had\nbeen very numerous indeed, they would not have been able to hurt us.\nWe may well be supposed to want rest again after this long journey; for\nin this desert we saw neither house or tree, or scarce a bush: we saw,\nindeed, abundance of the sable-hunters, as they called them. These are\nall Tartars of the Mogul Tartary, of which this country is a part; and\nthey frequently attack small caravans; but we saw no numbers of them\ntogether. I was curious to see the sable skins they catched; but I could\nnever speak with any of them; for they durst not come near us; neither\ndurst we straggle from our company to go near them.\nAfter we had passed this desert, we came into a country pretty well\ninhabited; that is to say, we found towns and castles settled by the\nczar of Muscovy, with garrisons of stationary soldiers to protect the\ncaravans, and defend the country against the Tartars, who would\notherwise make it very dangerous travelling; and his czarish majesty has\ngiven such strict orders for the well guarding the caravans and\nmerchants, that if there are any Tartars heard of in the country,\ndetachments of the garrison are always sent to see travellers safe from\nstation to station.\nAnd thus the governor of Adinskoy, whom I had an opportunity to make a\nvisit to, by means of the Scots merchant, who was acquainted with him,\noffered us a guard of fifty men, if we thought there was any danger, to\nthe next station.\nI thought long before this, that as we came nearer to Europe we should\nfind the country better peopled, and the people more civilized; but I\nfound myself mistaken in both, for we had yet the nation of the Tonguses\nto pass through; where we saw the same tokens of paganism and barbarity,\nor worse, than before; only as they were conquered by the Muscovites,\nand entirely reduced, they were not so dangerous; but for the rudeness\nof manners, idolatry, and polytheism, no people in the world ever went\nbeyond them. They are clothed all in skins of beasts, and their houses\nare built of the same. You know not a man from a woman, neither by the\nruggedness of their countenances, or their clothes; and in the winter,\nwhen the ground is covered with snow, they live under ground, in houses\nlike vaults, which have cavities or caves going from one to another.\nIf the Tartars had their Cham-Chi-Thaungu for a whole village, or\ncountry, these had idols in every hut and every cave; besides, they\nworship the stars, the sun, the water, the snow; and, in a word, every\nthing that they do not understand, and they understand but very little;\nso that almost every element, every uncommon thing, sets them\na-sacrificing.\nBut I am no more to describe people than countries, any farther than my\nown story comes to be concerned in them. I met with nothing peculiar to\nmyself in all this country, which I reckon was, from the desert which I\nspoke of last, at least four hundred miles, half of it being another\ndesert, which took us up twelve days severe travelling, without house,\ntree, or bush; but we were obliged again to carry our own provisions, as\nwell water as bread. After we were out of this desert, and had travelled\ntwo days, we came to Janezay, a Muscovite city or station, on the great\nriver Janezay. This river, they told us, parted Europe from Asia, though\nour map-makers, as I am told, do not agree to it; however, it is\ncertainly the eastern boundary of the ancient Siberia, which now makes a\nprovince only of the vast Muscovite empire, but is itself equal in\nbigness to the whole empire of Germany.\nAnd yet here I observed ignorance and paganism, still prevailed, except\nin the Muscovite garrisons. All the country between the river Oby and\nthe river Janezay is as entirely pagan, and the people as barbarous, as\nthe remotest of the Tartars; nay, as any nation, for aught I know, in\nAsia or America. I also found, which I observed to the Muscovite\ngovernors, whom I had opportunity to converse with, that the pagans are\nnot much the wiser, or the nearer Christianity, for being under the\nMuscovite government; which they acknowledged was true enough, but, they\nsaid, it was none of their business; that if the czar expected to\nconvert his Siberian, or Tonguese, or Tartar subjects, it should be\ndone by sending clergymen among them, not soldiers; and they added, with\nmore sincerity than I expected, that they found it was not so much the\nconcern of their monarch to make the people Christians, as it was to\nmake them subjects.\nFrom this river to the great river Oby, we crossed a wild uncultivated\ncountry; I cannot say \u2019tis a barbarous soil; \u2019tis only barren of people,\nand wants good management; otherwise it is in itself a most pleasant,\nfruitful, and agreeable country. What inhabitants we found in it are all\npagans, except such as are sent among them from Russia; for this is the\ncountry, I mean on both sides the river Oby, whither the Muscovite\ncriminals, that are not put to death, are banished, and from whence it\nis next to impossible they should ever come away.\nI have nothing material to say of my particular affairs, till I came to\nTobolski, the capital of Siberia, where I continued some time on the\nfollowing occasion:\u2014\nWe had been now almost seven months on our journey, and winter began to\ncome on apace; whereupon my partner and I called a council about our\nparticular affairs, in which we found it proper, considering that we\nwere bound for England, and not for Moscow, to consider how to dispose\nof ourselves. They told us of sledges and rein-deer to carry us over the\nsnow in the winter-time; and, indeed, they have such things, as it would\nbe incredible to relate the particulars of, by which means the Russians\ntravel more in the winter than they can in summer; because in these\nsledges they are able to run night and day: the snow being frozen, is\none universal covering to nature, by which the hills, the vales, the\nrivers, the lakes, are all smooth, and hard as a stone; and they run\nupon the surface, without any regard to what is underneath.\nBut I had no occasion to push at a winter journey of this kind; I was\nbound to England, not to Moscow, and my route lay two ways: either I\nmust go on as the caravan went, till I came to Jarislaw, and then go\noff west for Narva, and the gulf of Finland, and so either by sea or\nland to Dantzic, where I might possibly sell my China cargo to good\nadvantage; or I must leave the caravan at a little town on the Dwina,\nfrom whence I had but six days by water to Archangel, and from thence\nmight be sure of shipping, either to England, Holland, or Hamburgh.\nNow to go any of these journies in the winter would have been\npreposterous; for as to Dantzic, the Baltic would be frozen up, and I\ncould not get passage; and to go by land in those countries, was far\nless safe than among the Mogul Tartars; likewise to Archangel, in\nOctober all the ships would be gone from thence, and even the merchants,\nwho dwell there in summer, retire south to Moscow in the winter, when\nthe ships are gone; so that I should have nothing but extremity of cold\nto encounter, with a scarcity of provisions, and must lie there in an\nempty town all the winter: so that, upon the whole, I thought it much my\nbetter way to let the caravan go, and to make provision to winter where\nI was, viz. at Tobolski, in Siberia, in the latitude of sixty degrees,\nwhere I was sure of three things to wear out a cold winter with, viz.\nplenty of provisions, such as the country afforded, a warm house, with\nfuel enough, and excellent company; of all which I shall give a full\naccount in its place.\nI was now in a quite different climate from my beloved island, where I\nnever felt cold, except when I had my ague; on the contrary, I had much\nto do to bear my clothes on my back, and never made any fire but without\ndoors, for my necessity, in dressing my food, &c. Now I made me three\ngood vests, with large robes or gowns over them, to hang down to the\nfeet, and button close to the wrists, and all these lined with furs, to\nmake them sufficiently warm.\nAs to a warm house, I must confess, I greatly dislike our way in\nEngland, of making fires in every room in the house, in open chimnies,\nwhich, when the fire was out, always kept the air in the room cold as\nthe climate. But taking an apartment in a good house in the town, I\nordered a chimney to be built like a furnace, in the centre of six\nseveral rooms, like a stove; the funnel to carry the smoke went up one\nway, the door to come at the fire went in another, and all the rooms\nwere kept equally warm, but no fire seen; like as they heat the bagnios\nin England.\nBy this means we had always the same climate in all the rooms, and an\nequal heat was preserved; and how cold soever it was without, it was\nalways warm within; and yet we saw no fire, nor were ever incommoded\nwith any smoke.\nThe most wonderful thing of all was, that it should be possible to meet\nwith good company here, in a country so barbarous as that of the most\nnortherly part of Europe, near the Frozen ocean, and within but a very\nfew degrees of Nova Zembla.\nBut this being the country where the state criminals of Muscovy, as I\nobserved before, are all banished; this city was full of noblemen,\nprinces, gentlemen, colonels, and, in short, all degrees of the\nnobility, gentry, soldiery, and courtiers of Muscovy. Here were the\nfamous prince Galilfken, or Galoffken, and his son; the old general\nRobostisky, and several other persons of note, and some ladies.\nBy means of my Scots merchant, whom, nevertheless, I parted with here, I\nmade an acquaintance with several of these gentlemen, and some of them\nof the first rank; and from these, in the long winter nights, in which I\nstaid here, I received several agreeable visits. It was talking one\nnight with a certain prince, one of the banished ministers of state\nbelonging to the czar of Muscovy, that my talk of my particular case\nbegan. He had been telling me abundance of fine things, of the\ngreatness, the magnificence, and dominions, and the absolute power of\nthe emperor of the Russians. I interrupted him, and told him, I was a\ngreater and more powerful prince than ever the czar of Muscovy was,\nthough my dominions were not so large, or my people so many. The\nRussian grandee looked a little surprised, and fixing his eyes steadily\nupon me, began to wonder what I meant.\nI told him his wonder would cease when I had explained myself. First, I\ntold him, I had the absolute disposal of the lives and fortunes of all\nmy subjects: that notwithstanding my absolute power, I had not one\nperson disaffected to my government or to my person, in all my\ndominions. He shook his head at that, and said, there, indeed, I outdid\nthe czar of Muscovy. I told him, that all the lands in my kingdom were\nmy own, and all my subjects were not only my tenants, but tenants at\nwill; that they would all fight for me to the last drop; and that never\ntyrant, for such I acknowledged myself to be, was ever so universally\nbeloved, and yet so horribly feared, by his subjects.\nAfter amusing them with these riddles in government for awhile, I opened\nthe case, and told them the story at large of my living in the island,\nand how I managed both myself and the people there that were under me,\njust as I have since minuted it down. They were exceedingly taken with\nthe story, and especially the prince, who told me with a sigh, that the\ntrue greatness of life was to be master of ourselves; that he would not\nhave changed such a state of life as mine, to have been czar of Muscovy,\nand that he found more felicity in the retirement he seemed to be\nbanished to there, than ever he found in the highest authority he\nenjoyed in the court of his master the czar: that the height of human\nwisdom was to bring our tempers down to our circumstances, and to make a\ncalm within, under the weight of the greatest storm, without. When he\ncame first hither, he said, he used to tear the hair from his head, and\nthe clothes from his back, as others had done before him; but a little\ntime and consideration had made him look into himself, as well as round\nhimself, to things without: that he found the mind of man, if it was but\nonce brought to reflect upon the state of universal life, and how\nlittle this world was concerned in its true felicity, was perfectly\ncapable of making a felicity for itself, fully satisfying to itself, and\nsuitable to its own best ends and desires, with but very little\nassistance from the world; that air to breathe in, food to sustain life,\nclothes for warmth, and liberty for exercise, in order to health,\ncompleted, in his opinion, all that the world could do for us: and\nthough the greatness, the authority, the riches, and the pleasures,\nwhich some enjoyed in the world, and which he had enjoyed his share of,\nhad much in them that was agreeable to us, yet he observed, that all\nthose things chiefly gratified the coarsest of our affections; such as\nour ambition, our particular pride, our avarice, our vanity, and our\nsensuality; all which were, indeed, the mere product of the worst part\nof man, were in themselves crimes, and had in them the seeds of all\nmanner of crimes; but neither were related to, or concerned with, any of\nthose virtues that constituted us wise men, or of those graces which\ndistinguished us as Christians; that being now deprived of all the\nfancied felicity which he enjoyed in the full exercise of all those\nvices, he said, he was at leisure to look upon the dark side of them,\nwhere he found all manner of deformity; and was now convinced, that\nvirtue only makes a man truly wise, rich, and great, and preserves him\nin the way to a superior happiness in a future state; and in this, he\nsaid, they were more happy in their banishment, than all their enemies\nwere, who had the full possession of all the wealth and power that they\n(the banished) had left behind them.\n\u201cNor, Sir,\u201d said he, \u201cdo I bring my mind to this politically, by the\nnecessity of my circumstances, which some call miserable; but if I know\nany thing of myself, I would not go back, no not though my master, the\nczar, should call me, and offer to reinstate me in all my former\ngrandeur; I say, I would no more go back to it, than I believe my soul,\nwhen it shall be delivered from this prison of the body, and has had a\ntaste of the glorious state beyond life, would come back to the gaol of\nflesh and blood it is now enclosed in, and leave Heaven to deal in the\ndirt and grime of human affairs.\u201d\nHe spake this with so much warmth in his temper, so much earnestness and\nmotion of his spirits, which were apparent in his countenance, that it\nwas evident it was the true sense of his soul; and indeed there was no\nroom to doubt his sincerity.\nI told him, I once thought myself a kind of a monarch in my old station,\nof which I had given him an account, but that I thought he was not a\nmonarch only, but a great conqueror; for that he that has got a victory\nover his own exorbitant desires, and has the absolute dominion over\nhimself, and whose reason entirely governs his will, is certainly\ngreater than he that conquers a city. \u201cBut, my lord,\u201d said I, \u201cshall I\ntake the liberty to ask you a question?\u201d\u2014\u201cWith all my heart,\u201d said he.\n\u201cIf the door of your liberty was opened,\u201d said I, \u201cwould not you take\nhold of it to deliver yourself from this exile?\u201d\n\u201cHold,\u201d said he, \u201cyour question is subtle, and requires some serious\njust distinctions to give it a sincere answer; and I\u2019ll give it you from\nthe bottom of my heart. Nothing that I know of in this world would move\nme to deliver myself from the state of banishment, except these two:\nfirst, the enjoyment of my relations; and secondly, a little warmer\nclimate. But I protest to you, that to go back to the pomp of the court,\nthe glory, the power, the hurry of a minister of state; the wealth, the\ngaiety, and the pleasures, that is to say, follies of a courtier; if my\nmaster should send me word this moment, that he restores me to all he\nbanished me from, I protest, if I know myself at all, I would not leave\nthis wilderness, these deserts, and these frozen lakes, for the palace\nof Moscow.\u201d\n\u201cBut, my lord,\u201d said I, \u201cperhaps you not only are banished from the\npleasures of the court, and from the power, and authority, and wealth,\nyou enjoyed before, but you may be absent too from some of the\nconveniencies of life; your estate, perhaps, confiscated, and your\neffects plundered; and the supplies left you here may not be suitable to\nthe ordinary demands of life.\u201d\n\u201cAy,\u201d said he, \u201cthat is, as you suppose me to be a lord, or a prince,\n&c. So indeed I am; but you are now to consider me only as a man, a\nhuman creature, not at all distinguished from another; and so I can\nsuffer no want, unless I should be visited with sickness and distempers.\nHowever, to put the question out of dispute; you see our manner; we are\nin this place five persons of rank; we live perfectly retired; as suited\nto a state of banishment; we have something rescued from the shipwreck\nof our fortunes, which keeps us from the mere necessity of hunting for\nour food; but the poor soldiers who are here, without that help, live in\nas much plenty as we. They go into the woods, and catch sables and\nfoxes; the labour of a month will maintain them a year; and as the way\nof living is not expensive, so it is not hard to get sufficient to\nourselves: so that objection is out of doors.\u201d\nI have no room to give a full account of the most agreeable conversation\nI had with this truly great man; in all which he shewed, that his mind\nwas so inspired with a superior knowledge of things, so supported by\nreligion, as well as by a vast share of wisdom, that his contempt of the\nworld was really as much as he had expressed, and that he was always the\nsame to the last, as will appear in the story I am going to tell.\nI had been here eight months, and a dark dreadful winter I thought it to\nbe. The cold was so intense, that I could not so much as look abroad\nwithout being wrapt in furs, and a mask of fur before my face, or rather\na hood, with only a hole for breath, and two for sight. The little\ndaylight we had, as we reckoned, for three months, not above five hours\na day, or six at most; only that the snow lying on the ground\ncontinually, and the weather being clear, it was never quite dark. Our\nhorses were kept (or rather starved) under ground; and as for our\nservants, (for we hired servants here to look after our horses and\nourselves) we had every now and then their fingers and toes to thaw, and\ntake care of, lest they should mortify and fall off.\nIt is true, within doors we were warm, the houses being close, the walls\nthick, the lights small, and the glass all double. Our food was chiefly\nthe flesh of deer, dried and cured in the season; good bread enough, but\nbaked as biscuits; dried fish of several sorts, and some flesh of\nmutton, and of buffaloes, which is pretty good beef. All the stores of\nprovision for the winter are laid up in the summer, and well cured. Our\ndrink was water mixed with aqua vit\u00e6 instead of brandy; and, for a\ntreat, mead instead of wine; which, however, they have excellent good.\nThe hunters, who ventured abroad all weathers, frequently brought us in\nfresh venison, very fat and good; and sometimes bear\u2019s flesh, but we did\nnot much care for the last. We had a good stock of tea, with which we\ntreated our friends as above; and, in a word, we lived very cheerfully\nand well, all things considered.\nIt was now March, and the days grown considerably longer, and the\nweather at least tolerable; so other travellers began to prepare sledges\nto carry them over the snow, and to get things ready to be going; but my\nmeasures being fixed, as I have said, for Archangel, and not for Muscovy\nor the Baltic, I made no motion, knowing very well, that the ships from\nthe south do not set out for that part of the world till May or June;\nand that if I was there at the beginning of August, it would be as soon\nas any ships would be ready to go away; and therefore, I say, I made no\nhaste to be gone, as others did; in a word, I saw a great many people,\nnay, all the travellers, go away before me. It seems, every year they go\nfrom thence to Moscow for trade; viz. to carry furs, and buy necessaries\nwith them, which they bring back to furnish their shops; also others\nwent on the same errand to Archangel; but then they also, being to come\nback again above eight hundred miles, went all out before me.\nIn short, about the latter end of May I began to make all ready to pack\nup; and as I was doing this, it occurred to me, that seeing all these\npeople were banished by the czar of Muscovy to Siberia, and yet, when\nthey came there, were at liberty to go whither they would; why did they\nnot then go away to any part of the world wherever they thought fit? and\nI began to examine what should hinder them from making such an attempt.\nBut my wonder was over, when I entreated upon that subject with the\nperson I have mentioned, who answered me thus: \u201cConsider, first,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cthe place where we are; and, secondly, the condition we are in;\nespecially,\u201d said he, \u201cthe generality of the people who are banished\nhither. We are surrounded,\u201d said he, \u201cwith stronger things than bars and\nbolts: on the north side is an unnavigable ocean, where ship never\nsailed, and boat never swam; neither, if we had both, could we know\nwhither to go with them. Every other way,\u201d said he, \u201cwe have above a\nthousand miles to pass through the czar\u2019s own dominions, and by ways\nutterly impassable, except by the roads made by the government, and\nthrough the towns garrisoned by its troops; so that we could neither\npass undiscovered by the road, or subsist any other way: so that it is\nin vain to attempt it.\u201d\nI was silenced indeed, at once, and found that they were in a prison,\nevery jot as secure as if they had been locked up in the castle of\nMoscow; however, it came into my thoughts, that I might certainly be\nmade an instrument to procure the escape of this excellent person, and\nthat it was very easy for me to carry him away, there being no guard\nover him in the country; and as I was not going to Moscow, but to\nArchangel, and that I went in the nature of a caravan, by which I was\nnot obliged to lie in the stationary towns in the desert, but could\nencamp every night where I would, might easily pass uninterrupted to\nArchangel, where I could immediately secure him on board an English or\nDutch ship, and carry him off safe along with me; and as to his\nsubsistence, and other particulars, that should be my care, till he\nshould better supply himself.\nHe heard me very attentively, and looked earnestly on me all the while I\nspoke; nay, I could see in his very face, that what I said put his\nspirits into an exceeding ferment; his colour frequently changed, his\neyes looked red, and his heart fluttered, that it might be even\nperceived in his countenance; nor could he immediately answer me when I\nhad done, and, as it were, expected what he would say to it; and after\nhe had paused a little, he embraced me, and said, \u201cHow unhappy are we!\nunguided creatures as we are, that even our greatest acts of friendship\nare made snares to us, and we are made tempters of one another! My dear\nfriend,\u201d said he, \u201cyour offer is so sincere, has such kindness in it, is\nso disinterested in itself, and is so calculated for my advantage, that\nI must have very little knowledge of the world, if I did not both wonder\nat it, and acknowledge the obligation I have upon me to you for it: but\ndid you believe I was sincere in what I have so often said to you of my\ncontempt of the world? Did you believe I spoke my very soul to you, and\nthat I had really maintained that degree of felicity here, that had\nplaced me above all that the world could give me, or do for me? Did you\nbelieve I was sincere, when I told you I would not go back, if I was\nrecalled even to be all that once I was in the court, and with the\nfavour of the czar my master? Did you believe me, my friend, to be an\nhonest man, or did you think me to be a boasting hypocrite?\u201d Here he\nstopped, as if he would hear what I would say; but, indeed, I soon after\nperceived, that he stopped because his spirits were in motion: his heart\nwas full of struggles, and he could not go on. I was, I confess,\nastonished at the thing, as well as at the man, and I used some\narguments with him to urge him to set himself free; that he ought to\nlook upon this as a door opened by Heaven for his deliverance, and a\nsummons by Providence, who has the care and good disposition of all\nevents, to do himself good, and to render himself useful in the world.\nHe had by this time recovered himself. \u201cHow do you know, Sir,\u201d said he,\nwarmly, \u201cbut that, instead of a summons from Heaven, it may be a feint\nof another instrument, representing, in all the alluring colours to me,\nthe show of felicity as a deliverance, which may in itself be my snare,\nand tend directly to my ruin? Here I am free from the temptation of\nreturning to my former miserable greatness; there I am not sure, but\nthat all the seeds of pride, ambition, avarice, and luxury, which I know\nremain in my nature, may revive and take root, and, in a word, again\noverwhelm me; and then the happy prisoner, whom you see now master of\nhis soul\u2019s liberty, shall be the miserable slave of his own senses, in\nthe full possession of all personal liberty. Dear Sir, let me remain in\nthis blessed confinement, banished from the crimes of life, rather than\npurchase a show of freedom at the expense of the liberty of my reason,\nand at the expense of the future happiness which now I have in my view,\nbut shall then, I fear, quickly lose sight of; for I am but flesh, a\nman, a mere man, have passions and affections as likely to possess and\noverthrow me as any man: O be not my friend and my tempter both\ntogether!\u201d\nIf I was surprised before, I was quite dumb now, and stood silent,\nlooking at him; and, indeed, admired what I saw. The struggle in his\nsoul was so great, that, though the weather was extremely cold, it put\nhim into a most violent sweat, and I found he wanted to give vent to his\nmind; so I said a word or two, that I would leave him to consider of it,\nand wait on him again; and then I withdrew to my own apartment.\nAbout two hours after, I heard somebody at or near the door of the room,\nand I was going to open the door; but he had opened it, and come in: \u201cMy\ndear friend,\u201d said he, \u201cyou had almost overset me, but I am recovered:\ndo not take it ill that I do not close with your offer; I assure you, it\nis not for want of a sense of the kindness of it in you; and I come to\nmake the most sincere acknowledgment of it to you; but, I hope, I have\ngot the victory over myself.\u201d\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d said I, \u201cI hope you are fully satisfied, that you did not\nresist the call of Heaven.\u201d\u2014\u201cSir,\u201d said he, \u201cif it had been from\nHeaven, the same power would have influenced me to accept it; but I\nhope, and am fully satisfied, that it is from Heaven that I decline it;\nand I have an infinite satisfaction in the parting, that you shall leave\nme an honest man still, though not a free man.\u201d\nI had nothing to do but to acquiesce, and make profession to him of my\nhaving no end in it, but a sincere desire to serve him. He embraced me\nvery passionately, and assured me, he was sensible of that, and should\nalways acknowledge it: and with that he offered me a very fine present\nof sables, too much indeed for me to accept from a man in his\ncircumstances; and I would have avoided them, but he would not\nbe refused.\nThe next morning I sent my servant to his lordship, with a small present\nof tea, two pieces of China damask, and four little wedges of Japan\ngold, which, did not all weigh above six ounces, or thereabouts; but\nwere far short of the value of his sables, which indeed, when I came to\nEngland, I found worth near two hundred pounds. He accepted the tea, and\none piece of the damask, and one of the pieces of gold, which had a fine\nstamp upon it, of the Japan coinage, which I found he took for the\nrarity of it, but would not take any more; and sent word by my servant,\nthat he desired to speak with me.\nWhen I came to him, he told me, I knew what had passed between us, and\nhoped I would not move him any more in that affair; but that, since I\nmade such a generous offer to him, he asked me, if I had kindness enough\nto offer the same to another person that he would name to me, in whom\nhe had a great share of concern. I told him, that I could not say I\ninclined to do so much for any one but himself, for whom I had a\nparticular value, and should have been glad to have been the instrument\nof his deliverance: however, if he would please to name the person to\nme, I would give him my answer, and hoped he would not be displeased\nwith me, if he was with my answer. He told me, it was only his son, who,\nthough I had not seen, yet was in the same condition with himself, and\nabove two hundred miles from him, on the other side the Oby; but that,\nif I consented, he would send for him.\nI made no hesitation, but told him I would do it. I made some ceremony\nin letting him understand that it was wholly on his account; and that\nseeing I could not prevail on him, I would shew my respect to him by my\nconcern for his son: but these things are too tedious to repeat here. He\nsent away the next day for his son, and in about twenty days he came\nback with the messenger, bringing six or seven horses loaded with very\nrich furs, and which, in the whole, amounted to a very great value.\nHis servants brought the horses into the town, but left the young lord\nat a distance till night, when he came _incognito_ into our apartment,\nand his father presented him to me; and, in short, we concerted there\nthe manner of our travelling, and every thing proper for the journey.\nI had bought a considerable quantity of sables, black fox-skins, fine\nermines, and such other furs that are very rich; I say, I had bought\nthem in that city for exchange for some of the goods brought from China;\nin particular, for the cloves and nutmegs, of which I sold the greatest\npart here; and the rest afterwards at Archangel, for a much better price\nthan I could have done at Louden; and my partner, who was sensible of\nthe profit, and whose business, more particularly than mine, was\nmerchandise, was mightily pleased with our stay, on account of the\ntraffic we made here.\nIt was in the beginning of June when I left this remote place, a city,\nI believe, little heard of in the world; and, indeed, it is so far out\nof the road of commerce, that I know not how it should be much talked\nof. We were now come to a very small caravan, being only thirty-two\nhorses and camels in all, and all of them passed for mine, though my new\nguest was proprietor of eleven of them. It was most natural also, that I\nshould take more servants with me than I had before, and the young lord\npassed for my steward; what great man I passed for myself I know not,\nneither did it concern me to inquire. We had here the worst and the\nlargest desert to pass over that we met with in all the journey; indeed\nI call it the worst, because the way was very deep in some places, and\nvery uneven in others; the best we had to say for it was, that we\nthought we had no troops of Tartars and robbers to fear, and that they\nnever came on this side the river Oby, or at least but very seldom; but\nwe found it otherwise.\nMy young lord had with him a faithful Muscovite servant, or rather a\nSiberian servant, who was perfectly acquainted with the country; and who\nled us by private roads, that we avoided coming into the principal towns\nand cities upon the great road, such as Tumen, Soloy Kamaskoy, and\nseveral others; because the Muscovite garrisons, which are kept there,\nare very curious and strict in their observation upon travellers, and\nsearching lest any of the banished persons of note should make their\nescape that way into Muscovy; but by this means, as we were kept out of\nthe cities, so our whole journey was a desert, and we were obliged to\nencamp and lie in our tents, when we might have had good accommodation\nin the cities on the way: this the young lord was so sensible of, that\nhe would not allow us to lie abroad, when we came to several cities on\nthe way; but lay abroad himself, with his servant, in the woods, and met\nus always at the appointed places.\nWe were just entered Europe, having passed the river Kama, which, in\nthese parts, is the boundary between Europe and Asia; and the first city\non the European side was called Soloy Kamaskoy, which is as much as to\nsay, the great city on the river Kama; and here we thought to have seen\nsome evident alteration in the people, their manners, their habit, their\nreligion, and their business; but we were mistaken; for as we had a vast\ndesert to pass, which, by relation, is near seven hundred miles long in\nsome places, but not above two hundred miles over where we passed it;\nso, till we came past that horrible place, we found very little\ndifference between that country and the Mogul Tartary; the people mostly\nPagans, and little better than the savages of America; their houses and\ntowns full of idols, and their way of living wholly barbarous, except in\nthe cities as above, and the villages near them; where they are\nChristians, as they call themselves, of the Greek church; but even these\nhave their religion mingled with so many relics of superstition, that it\nis scarce to be known in some places from mere sorcery and witchcraft.\nIn passing this forest, I thought indeed we must, after all our dangers\nwere, in our imagination, escaped, as before, have been plundered and\nrobbed, and perhaps murdered, by a troop of thieves: of what country\nthey were; whether the roving bands of the Ostiachi, a kind of Tartars,\nor wild people on the banks of the Oby, had ranged thus far; or whether\nthey were the sable-hunters of Siberia, I am yet at a loss to know; but\nthey were all on horseback, carried bows and arrows, and were at first\nabout five-and-forty in number. They came so near to us as within about\ntwo musket shot; and, asking no questions, they surrounded us with their\nhorses, and looked very earnestly upon us twice. At length they placed\nthemselves just in our way; upon which we drew up in a little line\nbefore our camels, being not above sixteen men in all; and being drawn\nup thus, we halted, and sent out the Siberian servant who attended his\nlord, to see who they were: his master was the more willing to let him\ngo, because he was not a little apprehensive that they were a Siberian\ntroop sent out after him. The man came up near them with a flag of\ntruce, and called to them; but though he spoke several of their\nlanguages, or dialects of languages rather, he could not understand a\nword they said: however, after some signs to him not to come nearer to\nthem at his peril, so he said he understood them to mean, offering to\nshoot at him if he advanced, the fellow came back no wiser than he went,\nonly that by their dress, he said, he believed them to be some Tartars\nof Kalmuck, or of the Circassian hordes; and that there must be more of\nthem on the great desert, though he never heard that ever any of them\nwere seen so far north before.\nThis was small comfort to us; however, we had no remedy: there was on\nour left hand, at about a quarter of a mile\u2019s distance, a little grove\nor clump of trees, which stood close together, and very near the road; I\nimmediately resolved we should advance to those trees, and fortify\nourselves as well as we could there; for, first, I considered that the\ntrees would in a great measure cover us from their arrows; and in the\nnext place, they could not come to charge us in a body: it was, indeed,\nmy old Portuguese pilot who proposed it; and who had this excellency\nattending him, namely, that he was always readiest and most apt to\ndirect and encourage us in cases of the most danger. We advanced\nimmediately with what speed we could, and gained that little wood, the\nTartars, or thieves, for we knew not what to call them, keeping their\nstand, and not attempting to hinder us. When we came thither, we found,\nto our great satisfaction, that it was a swampy, springy piece of\nground, and, on the other side, a great spring of water, which, running\nout in a little rill or brook, was a little farther joined by another of\nthe like bigness; and was, in short, the head or source of a\nconsiderable river, called afterwards the Wirtska. The trees which grew\nabout this spring were not in all above two hundred, but were very\nlarge, and stood pretty thick; so that as soon as we got in, we saw\nourselves perfectly safe from the enemy, unless they alighted and\nattacked us on foot.\nBut to make this more difficult, our Portuguese, with indefatigable\napplication, cut down great arms of the trees, and laid them hanging,\nnot cut quite off, from one tree to another; so that he made a continued\nfence almost round us.\nWe staid here, waiting the motion of the enemy some hours, without\nperceiving they made any offer to stir; when about two hours before\nnight, they came down directly upon us; and, though we had not perceived\nit, we found they had been joined by some more of the same, so that they\nwere near fourscore horse, whereof, however, we fancied some were women.\nThey came in till they were within half a shot of our little wood, when\nwe fired one musket without ball, and called to them in the Russian\ntongue, to know what they wanted, and bid them keep off; but, as if they\nknew nothing of what we said, they came on with a double fury directly\nto the wood-side, not imagining we were so barricaded, that they could\nnot break in. Our old pilot was our captain, as well as he had been our\nengineer; and desired of us, not to fire upon them till they came within\npistol shot, that we might be sure to kill; and that, when we did fire,\nwe should be sure to take good aim. We bade him give the word of\ncommand; which he delayed so long, that they were, some of them, within\ntwo pikes length of us when we fired.\nWe aimed so true, (or Providence directed our shot so sure) that we\nkilled fourteen of them at the first volley, and wounded several others,\nas also several of their horses; for we had all of us loaded our pieces\nwith two or three bullets apiece at least.\nThey were terribly surprised with our fire, and retreated immediately\nabout one hundred rods from us; in which time we loaded our pieces\nagain, and, seeing them keep that distance, we sallied out, and caught\nfour or five of their horses, whose riders, we supposed, were killed;\nand coming up to the dead, we could easily perceive they were Tartars,\nbut knew not from what country, or how they came to make an excursion\nsuch an unusual length.\nAbout an hour after, they made a motion to attack us again, and rode\nround our little wood, to see where else they might break in; but\nfinding us always ready to face them, they went off again, and we\nresolved not to stir from the place for that night.\nWe slept but little, you may be sure; but spent the most part of the\nnight in strengthening our situation, and barricading the entrances into\nthe wood; and, keeping a strict watch, we waited for daylight, and, when\nit came, it gave us a very unwelcome discovery indeed: for the enemy,\nwho we thought were discouraged with the reception they had met with,\nwere now increased to no less than three hundred, and had set up eleven\nor twelve huts and tents, as if they were resolved to besiege us; and\nthis little camp they had pitched, was upon the open plain, at about\nthree quarters of a mile from us. We were indeed surprised at this\ndiscovery; and now, I confess, I gave myself over for lost, and all that\nI had. The loss of my effects did not lie so near me (though they were\nvery considerable) as the thoughts of falling into the hands of such\nbarbarians, at the latter end of my journey, after so many difficulties\nand hazards as I had gone through; and even in sight of our port, where\nwe expected safety and deliverance. As for my partner, he was raging: he\ndeclared, that to lose his goods would be his ruin; and he would rather\ndie than be starved; and he was for fighting to the last drop.\nThe young lord, as gallant as ever flesh shewed itself, was for fighting\nto the last also; and my old pilot was of the opinion we were able to\nresist them all, in the situation we then were in: and thus we spent the\nday in debates of what we should do; but towards evening, we found that\nthe number of our enemies still increased: perhaps, as they were abroad\nin several parties for prey, the first had sent out scouts to call for\nhelp, and to acquaint them of their booty; and we did not know but by\nthe morning they might still be a greater number; so I began to inquire\nof those people we had brought from Tobolski, if there were no other, or\nmore private ways, by which we might avoid them in the night, and\nperhaps either retreat to some town, or get help to guard us over\nthe desert.\nThe Siberian, who was servant to the young lord, told us, if we designed\nto avoid them, and not fight, he would engage to carry us off in the\nnight to a way that went north towards the river Petraz, by which he\nmade no doubt but we might get away, and the Tartars never the wiser;\nbut he said, his lord had told him he would not return, but would rather\nchoose to fight. I told him, he mistook his lord; for that he was too\nwise a man to love fighting for the sake of it; that I knew his lord was\nbrave enough by what he had shewed already; but that his lord knew\nbetter than to desire to have seventeen or eighteen men fight five\nhundred, unless an unavoidable necessity forced them to it; and that if\nhe thought it possible for us to escape in the night, we had nothing\nelse to do but to attempt it. He answered, if his lord gave him such\norder, he would lose his life if he did not perform it. We soon brought\nhis lord to give that order, though privately, and we immediately\nprepared for the putting it in practice.\nAnd first, as soon as it began to be dark, we kindled a fire in our\nlittle camp, which we kept burning, and prepared so as to make it burn\nall night, that the Tartars might conclude we were still there; but, as\nsoon as it was dark, that is to say, so as we could see the stars, (for\nour guide would not stir before) having all our horses and camels ready\nloaded, we followed our new guide, who, I soon found, steered himself by\nthe pole or north star, all the country being level for a long way.\nAfter we had travelled two hours very hard, it began to be lighter\nstill; not that it was quite dark all night, but the moon; began to\nrise; so that, in short, it was rather lighter than we wished it to be;\nbut by six o\u2019clock next morning we were gotten near forty miles, though\nthe truth is, we almost spoiled our horses. Here we found a Russian\nvillage, named Kirmazinskoy, where we rested, and heard, nothing of the\nKalmuck Tartars that day. About two hours before night we set out again,\nand travelled till eight the next morning, though not quite so hastily\nas before; and about seven o\u2019clock we passed a little river, called\nKirtza, and came to a good large town inhabited by Russians, and very\npopulous, called Ozomya. There we heard, that several troops or herds of\nKalmucks had been abroad upon the desert, but that we were now\ncompletely out of danger of them, which was to our great satisfaction,\nyou may be sure. Here we were obliged to get some fresh horses, and\nhaving need enough of rest, we staid five days; and my partner and I\nagreed to give the honest Siberian, who brought us hither, the value of\nten pistoles for his conducting us.\nIn five days more we came to Veussima, upon the river Witzogda, which\nrunning into the river Dwina, we were there very happily near the end of\nour travels by land, that river being navigable in seven days passage to\nArchangel. From hence we came to Lawrenskoy, where the river joins, the\nthird of July; and provided ourselves with two luggage-boats, and a\nbarge, for our convenience. We embarked the seventh, and arrived all\nsafe at Archangel the eighteenth, having been a year, five months, and\nthree days on the journey, including our stay of eight months and odd\ndays at Tobolski.\nWe were obliged to stay at this place six weeks for the arrival of the\nships, and must have tarried longer, had not a Hamburgher come in above\na month sooner than any of the English ships; when after some\nconsideration, that the city of Hamburgh might happen to be as good a\nmarket for our goods as London, we all took freight with him; and\nhaving put our goods on board, it was most natural for me to put my\nsteward, on board to take care of them; by which means my young lord had\na sufficient opportunity to conceal himself, never coming on shore again\nin all the time we staid there; and this he did, that he might not be\nseen in the city, where some of the Moscow merchants would certainly\nhave seen and discovered him.\nWe sailed from Archangel the twentieth of August the same year; and,\nafter no extraordinary bad voyage, arrived in the Elbe the thirteenth of\nSeptember. Here my partner and I found a very good sale for our goods,\nas well those of China, as the sables, &c. of Siberia; and dividing the\nproduce of our effects my share amounted to 3475_l_. 17_s_. 3_d_.\nnotwithstanding so many losses we had sustained, and charges we had been\nat; only remembering that I had included, in this, about 600_l_. worth\nof diamonds, which I had purchased at Bengal.\nHere the young lord took his leave of us, and went up to the Elbe, in\norder to go to the court of Vienna, where he resolved to seek\nprotection, and where he could correspond with those of his father\u2019s\nfriends who were left alive. He did not part without all the testimonies\nhe could give of gratitude for the service I had done him, and his sense\nof my kindness to the prince his father.\nTo conclude: having staid near four months in Hamburgh, I came from\nthence over land to the Hague, where I embarked in the packet, and\narrived in London the tenth of January 1705, having been gone from\nEngland ten years and nine months.\nAnd here, resolving to harass myself no more, I am preparing for a\nlonger journey than all these, having lived seventy-two years a life of\ninfinite variety, and learnt sufficiently to know the value of\nretirement, and the blessing of ending our days in peace.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe (1808)\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by deaurider, Larry B. Harrison and the Online\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n  THE\n  _Friendly D\u00e6mon_,\n  OR THE\n  Generous Apparition;\n  BEING\n  A True Narrative of a miraculous Cure,\n  newly perform'd upon that famous Deaf\n  and Dumb Gentleman,\n  Dr. _Duncan Campbel_,\n  By a familiar Spirit that appear'd to him in a\n  white Surplice, like a Cathedral singing Boy.\n  _By Daniel Defoe._\n        _If by our Senses Spirits we perceive,\n        Or from the strength of Fancy, so believe,\n        No Fault do we commit that merits blame,\n        If to the Publick we report the same;\n        For whether by our Eyes we Spectres see  \\\n        Or by a second Sight, we must agree,      |\n        Things are to us as they appear to be._  /\n  _LONDON_\n  Printed; and Sold by J. ROBERTS in _Warwick-Lane_.\n  MDCCXXVI.\n[Illustration]\n    _To my anonymous worthy Friend, Physician and Philosopher, whose\n    Name, for certain Reasons, I forbear to mention._\nI CANNOT, without great Ingratitude, forget the friendly Visits and\nkind Advice I frequently receiv'd from you, during, not only, a\ndangerous but tedious Indisposition, which surprisingly seiz'd me in\nthe Year 1717, and, notwithstanding your extraordinary Care as well\nas unquestionable Judgment, continu'd upon me till the latter end of\nthe Year --25; in which long interval of Time, the Attendance you gave\nme, and the Trouble you gave yourself, abstracted from all Interest,\nmade you truly sensible of my unhappy Condition, and myself equally\napprehensive of the great Obligations I shall ever be under to so\nsincere a Friend.\nTHE first occasion of my Illness, as I have good reason to imagine,\nwas a very shocking Surprize given me by certain Persons, who\npretended to be my Friends in a considerable Affair then depending,\nwherein their Treachery threaten'd me with succeeding Ruin, had not\nProvidence interpos'd and deliver'd the Oppress'd from the cruel\nhands of such deceitful Enemies: Upon whose hard Usage, and the news\nof my Disappointment, I was struck at first with a kind of Epilepsy\nand depriv'd of all my Senses in an Instant, drop'd down in a publick\nCoffee-House, under violent Agitations, which, it seems, are generally\nconcomitant with this miserable Distemper; but being luckily assisted\nand kindly supported by some Gentlemen present, I happen'd to escape\nthose ill Consequences that might otherwise have attended me, during\nthe extremity of my Convulsions, which were reported, by those\nthat held me, to be so strong as to be almost insupportable, till\nthe Paroxism declin'd, which terminated in a cold Sweat, Trembling\nand Weeping, and this was the first Attack that ever this terrible\nAssailant made upon me; tho' afterwards he forc'd himself into a\nfurther familiarity with me (much against my Will) nor could your kind\nEndeavours, by the Art of Physick, back'd with my own strength of\nConstitution, fright away this evil Companion from me, till my good\nGenius, by the direction of Providence, communicated a particular\nSecret to me, which, with God's Blessing, has lately prov'd my\nDeliverance, in what manner, before I conclude, I shall very freely\nacquaint you, in hopes you will favour me with your candid Opinion in\nanswer thereunto.\nNEAR eight Years, was a long Time to continue under the frequent\nreturns and uncomfortable dread of such a shocking Affliction, which,\nupon every little disorder of Mind or disappointment in Business,\nnever fail'd to visit me; till, by convulsive or involuntary Motions\nin my Head and other Parts of my Body, my Eyes were bury'd in their\nSockets, my other Features contracted, my Limbs often distorted, my\nBowels sometimes wrack'd with intolerable Pains, and all the Faculties\nof my Mind so greatly weaken'd and impair'd, that I, who, for many\nYears before, had been esteem'd as an Oracle, by the most Polite and\nCurious part of both Sexes, was now, for want of strength of Mind and\nability of Body to imploy my Talent and excercise my Art as usual,\ntreated like an old Soldier, who had lost his Limbs in the Service of\nhis Country, and thought only worthy, by way of requital, to be made\na hobbling Pensioner in some starving Hospital; but, I thank my Stars,\nit prov'd not quite so bad with me, for tho' some Ladies were too hasty\nand importunate to bear with the least disappointment or admit of any\ndelay, without shewing their resentment, or refusing to trust their\nMoney till my Convulsions afforded me a rational Interval, wherein I\nmight be able to give them ample Satisfaction: Yet, others, of a more\nconsiderate, easy and compassionate Temper, were so highly concern'd\nfor my too apparent Indisposition, that, in order to drive out this\ntormenting Demon that possess'd me, they brought me all the old\nRecipes they could muster up among their crazy Aunts and Grandmothers,\npractis'd upon all Occasions in their several Families, perhaps ever\nsince the Times of _Galen_ and _Hippocrates_, but, having been long\nunder the Care and Friendship of so able a Physician as your self, tho'\nto little or no purpose, I could nor put Faith enough in old Womens\nMedicines to receive Benefit thereby, so, under a kind of despondency\nof every thing but Providence, I suffer'd my Distemper to take its own\nCourse, till my Fits encreas'd upon me, to at least twenty in a Day,\nand by their frequent reiterations brought, at length, such a dimness\nupon my Sight, such a weakness in my Joints, and tremor upon my Nerves,\nthat render'd me incapable of all manner of Business, especially that\nwhich I had so long profess'd and successfully perform'd, to the full\nSatisfaction and great Astonishment of Thousands; but being now unable\nto Write; and, for want of Speech, having no other way of communicating\nmy Answers to the demands of the Ladies and Gentlemen that apply'd\nthemselves to me, except by Digitation, which they understood not, I\nwas forc'd sometimes, when much disorder'd by my Convulsions, to send\n'em away dissatisfy'd, which, if it were any Mortification to them,\nprov'd a much greater to my self, because, upon my ready performances\nin the Mystery I am Master of, depends the welfare of my whole Family.\nUNDER these unhappy Circumstances I labour'd till the Month of\n_October_, in the Year --24, confin'd by my Distemper to my own\nHabitation, not daring to go abroad for fear of falling in the Streets,\nhaving been before surpriz'd by my Fits in St. _James_'s Park and\nseveral other Places; but, about this Time, being possess'd with a\nstrong Inclination to the Cold-Bath, near Sir _John Oldcastle_'s, and\nthe great desire I had to experience the same, being highly encourag'd\nby your Advice and Approbation, I summon'd all the Strength I had to my\nAssistance, and pursuant to the Dictates of my own restless Mind, had\nrecourse thither accordingly, attended by a proper Person to take due\nCare of me, for fear of the worst.\nI had not repeated this cold Expedient above twice or thrice, but I was\nsensible of the Benefits I receiv'd thereby, for my Distemper began to\ntreat me with less severity than usual, and my Fits were succeeded with\na greater Defluction of Tears than what was common, before I apply'd\nmy self to the Bath, so that, after my Weeping was over, I found my\nself much refresh'd and all my Faculties abundantly more alert, than\nat any Time they had been since my first Illness, insomuch, that,\nfrom a timely continuance of this external Application, I entertain'd\ngreat hopes of a perfect Recovery; but, notwithstanding my diligent\nProsecution of this sharp and shivering Method, I was, to my great\nSorrow, unhappily disappointed; for my Convulsions were as frequent,\ntho' not so violent as formerly, and I was now again divested of all\nhopes of Relief, except by the Hand of Providence, having nothing to\ntrust to, but that infallible Physician who can Cure all things in an\nInstant.\nTHE Despondency I was now under of any Assistance from humane Art, and\nthe slender Opinion you seem'd to entertain of my Recovery, made my\nIntervals as Melancholy as my Fits were troublesome; oppress'd with\nthese hard Circumstances, I supported a burthensome Life, and drag'd\non the tedious Hours till the latter end of the Year --25, about which\nTime, as I was slumbering one Morning in my Bed, after a restless\nNight, my good _Genius_ or Guardian Angel, Cloth'd in a white Surplice\nlike a singing Boy, appear'd before me, holding a Scrowle or Label\nin his right Hand, whereon the following Words were wrote in large\nCapitals.\n    _READ, BELIEVE AND PRACTISE, THE LOADSTONE SHALL BE YOUR CURE, WITH\n    AN ADDITION OF THE POWDER HERE PRESCRIB'D YOU; BUT KEEP THE LAST AS\n    A SECRET; FOR WITH THAT AND THE MAGNET YOU SHALL RELIEVE NUMBERS\n    IN DISTRESS, AND LIVE TO DO GREATER WONDERS THAN YOU HAVE HITHERTO\n    PERFORM'D; THEREFORE BE OF GOOD CHEAR, FOR YOU HAVE A FRIEND\n    UNKNOWN, WHO, IN THE TIME OF TROUBLE, WILL NEVER FAIL YOU._\nTHIS comfortable News, tho' deliver'd to me after so surprizing a\nmanner, yet, was it very welcome to a languishing Person under a\ncomplication of Misfortunes, notwithstanding I had a great struggle\nwith my natural Reason, before I could convince my self of what I was\nyet confident my very Eyes had seen, or at least had been represented\nto me after an extraordinary manner, for betwixt really seeing what we\ncall a Vision or verily believing we do see it, there is but a slender\ndifference; however, the intire Confidence I had put in Providence, and\nthe great desire I had to be reliev'd, were to me convincing Arguments,\nbeyond all Objection, that my Guardian Angel had actually appear'd and\ncommunicated to my Eyes the very Scrowle that I had read, the Words of\nwhich, lest my Memory should have prov'd treacherous, I enter'd in my\nPocket-Book as they are before recited, the Recipe only excepted.\nHAVING thus subjected my Reason to my Senses, or at least my Faith,\nfor I either saw or believ'd I saw what I have here reported, I had\nnothing else to do, but to put in Practice the Receipt which my good\n_Genius_ had imparted to me, tho' how to come at a Loadstone, seem'd to\nme as difficult as to find out the Philosopher's Stone, having but a\nslender Knowledge of the thing it self, and much less of its Virtues;\nhowever, upon enquiry, I soon found out a certain Virtuoso, near\n_Moorfields_, who is an eminent dealer in such sort of Curiosities, and\nby his Assistance I presently furnish'd my self with what I wanted, and\nsending for some fat Amber and a certain preparation of Steel, which\nI privately dispens'd in a very particular manner, according to the\n_Recipe_ communicated by my _Genius_; then applying both as directed,\nwas miraculously deliver'd, in a great measure, from those wracking\nConvulsions which had so long afflicted me, and in less than a Month's\nTime my whole Microcosm was restor'd to such a happy State of Health,\nStrength and Vivacity, that Heaven be prais'd, I could do any thing as\nusual, but, if I leave off my Loadstone for two or three Days, which\nI have sometimes done, meerly out of Curiosity, my Fits, as yet, will\nremind me of my foolish Presumption, and force me to have recourse to\nmy wonderful Preservative, which has not only prov'd so great a friend\nto my self, but has reliev'd others in the like distress; and as I have\nfound by three or four late Experiments, is as effectual in suppresing\nVapours and removing or preventing Hysterick Fits in Women, as it is\nin Epilepsies and Convulsions in our own Sex, either Men or Children.\nNOW, Doctor, since I have happily conquer'd so stubborn an Enemy, by\nsuch miraculous means, as do not fail to afflict others as well as\nmy self, I desire you will vouchsafe me your real Sentiments of this\nuncommon way of Cure, your Notions of the _Genii_, and the wonderful\nmanner of communicating the _Recipe_, your Thoughts of the Loadstone\nand the Virtues thereof, your Opinion of Sympathy and the Cures\nperform'd thereby, for I know you are Philosopher sufficient, as well\nas Physician, to give a very good light into all these Mysteries, in\nwhich I own I am to seek; therefore hope you will condescend so far as\nto spend a leisure Hour upon the foregoing Particulars, and you will\ninfinitely oblige,\n  _Your assured Friend_,\n  _and humble Servant_,\n  Duncan Campbel.\n[Illustration]\n    _To my Deaf and Dumb Friend, Mr._ Duncan Campbel, _in Answer to his\n    Letter to an anonymous worthy Friend, Physician and Philosopher_.\nI RECEIV'D your Letter and read the same, with no less Surprise than\nSatisfaction; for, as I am greatly pleas'd at your miraculous Recovery,\nso, I am equally astonish'd at the wonderful Means by which it was\nobtain'd; I confess, I have been too great a Student in Physick and\nnatural Philosophy, to entertain any extraordinary Opinion of Miracles,\nno ways accountable to human Reason, except those that concern\nReligion, which are brought down to our Knowledge well attested and\nrecommended to our Faith by unexceptionable Authorities; not, but,\nthat I am ready to admit, that the Power of Healing is in the Hand of\nProvidence, and that some Patients, when their Distempers, thro' the\nfrailty of humane Judgment, derive their Essence from so obscure an\nOriginal that even puzzles the Physician, I am free to acknowledge,\nespecially when the Blessing of God accompanies the Administration,\nthat the most trifling application in the Eyes of Art, may recover such\nPersons from the most dangerous Infirmities: This, I look upon to be\nyour extraordinary Case, and therefore think not the means to which you\nascribe your Cure or the manner of the _Recipe_'s being communicated to\nyou, a proper subject for a Physical Enquiry, unless you had sent me\nthe Prescription of your _Genius_, which I understand by your Letter,\nyou are oblig'd to conceal, and then perhaps I should have been able\nto have judg'd, in some measure, which of the Applications are most\nEssential, the Powder or the Loadstone, also how far your Guardian\nAngel is a Regular Proficient in the modern Practise of Physick.\nHOWEVER, as you desire my Opinion of the _Genii_, the Loadstone, the\nPowder of Sympathy, and the like, I shall not be only willing to give\nyou my own Thoughts, but the Sentiments of others, before I take my\nleave, who have made the foregoing Particulars their principal Studies,\nand are therefore better acquainted with the nature of Spirits, than I\npretend to be.\nAS for _Genii_ or familiar Spirits, good and bad, believ'd and\nreported, by the most Wise and Learned of the Ancients, to attend\nMankind, and the various Operations they have had upon humane Minds\nas well as Bodies, I cannot but confess, seem very wonderful to\nmy defective Understanding; yet, when we observe what innumerable\nInstances have been handed to us by the most reputable Authors, both\nAntique and Modern, attested from Time to Time by unquestionable\nAuthorities, who, that, before he div'd into these Mysteries, look'd\nupon the same to be Whimsy, can forbear staggering in his Opinion?\nTHE most celebrated Instance of a _Genius_ among the Ancients, is that\nof _Socrates_, one of the wisest of the Philosophers in the Age he\nliv'd in, and that he had such a familiar Spirit to attend him, which\nthe _Greeks_ call'd _D\u00e6mon_, and the _Latins Genius_, is sufficiently\ntestify'd by three of his Contemporaries, _viz._ _Plato_, _Xenophon_\nand _Antisthenes_, also further confirm'd by _Laertius_, _Plutarch_,\n_Maximus Tyrius_, _Dion_, _Chrysostomus_, _Cicero_, _Apuleius_, and\n_Facinas_; besides others more Modern, as, _Tertullian_, _Origen_,\n_Clemens Alexandrinus_, &c. but that which is of greater Authority than\nall the Vouchers aforemention'd, is what _Socrates_ says of himself,\nin _Plato's Theage_, viz. _By some Divine Lot, I have a certain_\nD\u00e6mon, _which has follow'd me from my Childhood, as an Oracle_; _and\nthis Voice_, says he, for so he terms it, _whenever it speaks to me,\ndisswades me from engaging in what I am about to put in Action, but\nnever prompts me to attempt any thing_. This, I presume, might be the\nchief Reason, why _Socrates_ persu'd not his own Inclinations, which\nwere naturally Vicious, as himself confess'd to the Physiognomist, but\nwas always accompany'd with a divine Spirit that restrain'd him from\nit; for, in speaking to _Alcibiades_, a vicious Noble Man of _Athens_,\nbut reclaim'd by _Socrates_; says he, _My Tutor_ (meaning the Spirit\nthat attended him) _is wiser and better than you_. And to further shew,\nthat what he call'd his _D\u00e6mon_, was something more than a secret\nImpulse of the Mind, or Dictates of a good Conscience, _Theocritus_\naffirms in _Plutarch_, that a Vision attended _Socrates_ from his\nChildhood, going before him and guiding him in all the Actions of his\nLife, being a constant light to him in such Affairs as lay not within\nthe reach of humane standing, and that the Spirit often spoke to him,\ndivinely governing and inspiring his Intentions. A thousand Instances\nof the like nature, I could collect from the Ancients, to prove, that\nwhat you have reported to me, in your Letter, may be no Delusion, but\nreal Fact, with all it's surprising Circumstances, could the Task be\ncompris'd within the compass of a Letter, but, a Treatise of this\nnature, being much fitter for a Volume, I shall only proceed to a few\nfamiliar Instances of a more modern Date, that your wonderful Cure may\ngain Credit with the Publick, because I know your Sincerity.\nFROISSARD reports, That in the Time of _Edward_ the Third, there\nwas a certain Knight in _France_, call'd _Corasse_, who could tell\nevery thing Transacted throughout the whole World, in a Day or two at\nthe most, were the distance never so remote, and this he did by an\ninvisible Intelligencer or familiar Spirit, which he call'd _Orthone_,\nwho was always at his Command and brought him News continually for many\nYears, till, at last, he lost the Benefit of so useful a Companion,\nthrough a vain desire of gratifying his Curiousity after the following\nmanner, (_viz._) The Knight, having hitherto only heard the Voice of\nhis spiritual Emissary, was now infatuated with an earnest inclination\nto behold his Shapes, which favour he requested of _Orthone_;\naccordingly, whose Answer was, that the first thing he should see\non the morrow Morning, after he was risen from his Bed, should be\nthe Object he desir'd, or Words to that effect. The Knight, the next\nMorning, pursuant to the direction of his Spirit, arose from his Bed,\nlook'd about him, but could not discover any thing worthy of Remark;\nupon which disappointment, he upbraided _Orthone_, with being worse\nthan his Word, who reply'd he had kept his Promise, desiring the Knight\nto remind himself of what he had first observ'd after his rising; the\nKnight, upon recollection, reply'd, that he saw nothing uncommon, but\na couple of Straws tumbling upon the Ground and sporting with one\nanother, as if agitated by the Wind; _That was I_, saith the Spirit,\n_and therefore I kept my Word_. Then the Knight desir'd to see him once\nmore, in such a Shape as might induce him, the next Time, to take more\nnotice of him, to which the Spirit consented, saying, _the first thing\nyou see to morrow Morning, after your uprising, shall be me again_;\naccordingly, when the Time appointed was arriv'd and the Knight was\nrisen from his Bed, looking out of his Chamber Window, the first Object\nhe espy'd, was a Lean ill-favour'd Sow, so deform'd and ugly, that he\nwas not able to abide the sight of her; and not expecting _Orthone_\nto appear to him in so homely a manner, he set his Dogs upon the Sow,\nto drive her away, who being highly affronted at such unfriendly\nusage, immediately Vanish'd, to the Knight's great surprise; and his\nold acquaintance _Orthone_, never came near him after. This relation,\n_Froissard_ asserts he had from the Knight's own Mouth, with whom he\nwas very intimate.\nFROM hence I conclude, That the same sort of Spirit that attended\n_Corasse_, has been always a Friend to you, not only of late, in your\nmiraculous Recovery, but has at all Times assisted you in Writing\nthe Names of Strangers, discovering the most secret Intrigues and\nforetelling future Events, for which you have long been Famous. As a\nfurther Proof of the Existence of Spirits and that at some other Times,\nas well as in your Case, they have prescrib'd Physick to their living\nFriends, I shall quote an Instance out of Mr. _Glanvil_'s _Reports_,\nattested by the late Lord _Orrery_, the Famous Mr. _Greatrix_, and many\nothers, living in the Reign of King _Charles_ the Second.\nA Gentleman in _Ireland_, near to the Earl of _Orrery_'s House, sending\nhis Butler one Afternoon to a neighbouring Village to buy Cards, as he\npass'd a Field, espy'd a Company in the middle thereof, sitting round\na Table, with several Dishes of good Cheer before them, and moving\ntowards 'em, they all arose and Saluted him, desiring him to sit down\nand take part with them; but one of them whisper'd these Words in his\nEar, _viz._ _Do nothing this Company invites you to_: Whereupon, he\nrefusing to accept of their Kindness, the Table and all the Dainties\nit was furnish'd with immediately vanish'd, but the Company fell to\nDancing and playing upon divers Musical Instruments, the Butler being\na second Time solicited to partake of their Diversions, but would not\nbe prevail'd upon to engage himself with them; upon which, they left\noff their Merry-making and all fell to Work, still pressing the Butler\nto make one among 'em, but to no purpose; so that, upon his third\nrefusal, they all vanish'd and left the Butler alone, who in a great\nConsternation return'd home, without the Cards, fell into a Fit as he\nenter'd the House, but, soon recovering his Senses, related to his\nMaster all that had pass'd.\nTHE following Night, one of the Ghostly Company came to the Butler's\nBed-side and told him, that if he offer'd to stir out the next Day, he\nwould be carry'd away; upon whose Advice, he kept within till towards\nthe Evening, and having then an Occasion to make Water, ventur'd to\nset one Foot over the Threshold of the Door, in order to ease himself,\nwhich he had no sooner done, but a Rope was cast about his Middle, in\nthe Sight of several Standers-by, and the poor Man was hurry'd from\nthe Porch with unaccountable Swiftness, follow'd by many Persons, but\nthey were not nimble enough to overtake him, till a Horseman, well\nmounted, happening to meet him upon the Road, and seeing many followers\nin pursuit of a Man hurry'd along in a Rope, without any Body to\nforce him, catch'd hold of the Cord and stop'd him in his Career, but\nreceiv'd, for his Pains, such a strap upon his Back with one End of\nthe Rope, as almost fell'd him from his Horse; however, being a good\nChristian, he was too strong for the Devil, and recover'd the Butler\nout of the Spirits Clutches and brought him back to his Friends.\nTHE Lord _Orrery_, hearing of these strange Passages, for his further\nSatisfaction in the Truth thereof, sent for the Butler, with leave of\nhis Master, to come and continue some Days and Nights at his House,\nwhich, in Obedience to his Lordship, the Servant did accordingly, who\nafter his first Night's Bedding there, reported to the Earl in the\nMorning, that his Spectre had again been with him, and assur'd him,\nthat on that very Day he should be spirited away, in spight of all the\nMeasures that could possibly be taken to prevent it: Upon which, he\nwas conducted into a large Room, with a considerable Number of holy\nPersons to defend him from the Assaults of Satan; among whom, was the\nfamous stroker of bewitch'd Persons, Mr. _Greatrix_, who liv'd in the\nNeighbourhood, and knew, as may be presum'd, how to deal with the Devil\nas well as any Body; besides several eminent Quality were present in\nthe House, among the rest, two Bishops, all waiting the wonderful Event\nof this unaccountable Prodigy.\nTILL part of the Afternoon was spent, the Time slid away in nothing\nbut Peace and Quietness, but, at length, the enchanted Patient was\nperceiv'd to rise from the Floor without any visible Assistance,\nwhereupon, Mr. _Greatrix_ and another lusty Man clapt their Arms over\nhis Shoulders, and endeavour'd to weigh him down with their utmost\nStrength, but to no purpose, for the Devil prov'd too powerful, and\nafter a hard struggle on both sides, made them quit their hold, and\nsnatching the Butler from 'em, carry'd him over their Heads and toss'd\nhim in the Air, to and fro, like a Dog in a Blanket; several of the\nCompany running under the poor Wretch to save him from the Ground, by\nwhich means, when the Spirits Frolick was over, they could not find\nthat in all this hurry-scurry, the frighted Butler had receiv'd the\nleast Damage, but was left in _Statu quo_, upon the same Premises, to\nprove the Devil a Liar.\nTHE Goblins, for this bout, having given over their Pastime, and left\ntheir Maygame to take a little repose, that he might in some Measure be\nrefresh'd against their next Sally, My Lord order'd, the same Night,\ntwo of his Servants to lie with him, for fear some Devil or other\nshould come and catch him Napping, notwithstanding which, the Butler\ntold his Lordship the next Morning, that the Spirit had again been\nwith him in the likeness of a Quack Doctor, and in his right Hand a\nwooden Dish-full of grey Liquor, like a Mess of Porridge, at sight of\nwhich, he endeavour'd to awake his Bedfellows, but the Spectre told him\nhis attempts were fruitless, for that his Companions were enchanted\ninto a deep Sleep, advising him not to be frighted, for he came as\na Friend, and was the same Spirit that caution'd him in the Field\nagainst complying with the Company he there met, when he was going\nfor the Cards; adding, that if he had not refus'd to come into their\nMeasures, he had been for ever miserable; also wonder'd he had escap'd\nthe Day before, because he knew there was so powerful a Combination\nagainst him; but assur'd him, that for the future there would be no\nmore attempts of the like Nature; further telling the poor trembling\nButler, that he knew he was sadly troubl'd with two sorts of Fits,\nand, therefore, as a Friend, had brought him a Medicine that would\nCure him of both, beseeching him to take it, but the poor Patient, who\nhad been so scurvily us'd by these sort of Doctors, and fearing the\nDevil might be at the Bottom of the Cup, would not be prevail'd upon to\nswallow the Dose, which made the Spirit Angry; who told him, however,\nhe had a kindness for him, and that if he would bruise the Roots of\nPlantane without the Leaves, and drink the the Juice thereof, it should\ncertainly Cure him of one sort of his Fits, but as a Punishment for\nhis Obstinacy in refusing the Liquor, he should carry the other to\nhis Grave, then the spiritual Doctor ask'd his Patient if he knew him;\nthe Butler answer'd, _No_. _I am_, says he, _the wandring Ghost of\nyour old Acquaintance_ John Hobby, _who has been dead and bury'd these\nseven Years_; _and ever since, for the wickedness of my Life, have\nbeen lifted into the Company of those Evil-Spirits you beheld in the\nFields, am hurry'd up and down in this restless Condition, and doom'd\nto continue in the same wretched State till the Day of Judgment_.\nAdding, that _Had you serv'd your Creator in the days of your Youth,\nand offer'd up your Prayers that Morning, before you were sent for the\nCards, you had not been treated by the Spirits that tormented you, with\nso much Rigour and Severity_.\nAFTER the Butler had reported these marvellous Passages to my Lord and\nhis Family, the two Bishops, that were present, among other Quality,\nwere thereupon consulted, whether or no, it was proper for the Butler\nto follow the Spirit's Advice, in taking Plantane Juice for the Cure of\nhis Fits, and whether he had done well or ill, in refusing the Liquid\nDose which the Spectre would have given him; the Question, at first,\nseem'd to be a kind of moot Point, but, after some struggle in the\nDebate, their Resolution was, that the Butler had acted, through the\nwhole Affair, like a good Christian, for that it was highly sinful to\nfollow the Devil's Advice in any thing, and that no Man should do Evil\nthat Good might come of it; so that, in short, the poor Butler, after\nall his Fatigue, had no amends for his trouble, but was deny'd, by the\nBishops, the seeming Benefit that the Spirit intended him.\nI do not introduce this old surprising Story to amuse you, but to let\nyou know, that it is no new thing for Spectres to turn Doctors to such\nailing Persons as they retain a Respect for, and that your _Genius_ was\nnot the first Spirit that ever practis'd Physick; therefore, if this\nNarrative reported by _Glanvil_, _Beaumont_, and others, may obtain\nCredit, upon the Authorities of my Lord _Orrery_, Mr. _Greatrix_,\nand divers Persons, who were in a great measure Eye-Witnesses of the\nmatter, I see no Reason I have to doubt the Truth of your Letter, since\nI know your Integrity; besides, it has always been allow'd by such\nD\u00e6monologers as have Publish'd their Thoughts upon the visibility of\nSpirits, that _Scotland_, is never without such a sort of People as\nthey call Second-sighted, who have not only the Power of discerning\nApparitions, but, by their frequent Conversation with Spirits, foretel\nfuture Events, to the great Astonishment of all Persons that consult\nthem: That there are such sort of Diviners in the World, especially\nin _Scotland_, I am throughly convinc'd; of which Number I take your\nself to be one, but how to account for your mysterious Performances, I\nreadily confess, I know not, and therefore shall submit that Task to\nsuch as are qualify'd with a more subtil Penetration.\nI doubt I have tir'd your Patience with too much Prolixity upon\nfamiliar Spirits, therefore, to make you amends, I will be but short\nin my Dissertation upon the Loadstone; which in the first place, is,\na very ponderous Fossile, found in different Climates, and seems in\nits Nature and Qualities to be nearly related to Iron Oar, from whence\nit is endow'd with a peculiar property of drawing Iron to its self by\nthe Power of Sympathy, or the natural Disposition it has to Embrace\nthat particular Metal. In _\u00c6gypt_ there are large Mines of it, some\nfew Magnets have been found in _\u00c6thiopia_, which have attracted Iron\nvery forcibly; but two sorts are dug up at the foot of the _Sardinian_\nMountains, of such different Natures, that as one draws Iron, the other\nwill repel it; as you will find it reported by _Johannes Jonstonus_, in\nhis History of _Nature_, also by _Pliny_, in his Second Book, who, for\nthe aforesaid Reason, calls this Stone _Theamedes_: As to the singular\nVirtues hitherto discover'd in the common Loadstone, the most admirable\nof all are the strict Correspondence it maintains with the two Poles,\nand the wonderful Property it communicates, by a touch, to the Needle,\nfor the Benefit of Mariners. The Power of its Attraction, is thought\nby some Virtuosos to be owing to a clammy bituminous Substance, by\nwhich the Contexture of the more solid Parts are closely semented and\nconfirm'd; to prove this, work a Loadstone in the Fire and it shall\ncast forth a blewish Flame, like that of lighted Brimstone, and so\ncontinue, till it spends its Life and loses the Power of Attraction.\nThere is a great deal of Sulphur in Iron as well as in the Loadstone,\nwhich is the principal Cause of their Sympathising with each other,\nand if you destroy the first in either, the last will fail in course,\nwhich is the Reason, why the Loadstone will not attract the Rust of\nIron, tho' it will the Filings, because in the former, the bituminous\nMatter is quite spent and nothing left but a kind of _Caput mortuum_.\nThe Loadstone hath also two Poles, which answer those in the Heavens,\nif you touch the Needle with the North Pole of the Stone, it will\npoint to the Artick, if with the South part thereof, as it stood\nposited in the Mine, it will point to the Antartick, but not with the\nutmost exactness, except it stands in the Meridian: But to be further\nsatisfy'd in these Mysteries, have recourse to _Libavius_, _Cardanus_,\n_Pliny_, _Bodin_, _Porta_, our own _Philosophical Transactions_, and\nsuch Authors as have treated more largely upon this Subject: for, I\nsuppose, all that you want to know of me is, if ever I have heard from\nothers, or discover'd by my own Experience, any such Physical Virtue\nin the Loadstone, as may tend to the Cure of any Chronical or other\nDisease incident to humane Bodies, that may strengthen the Opinion you\nseem to entertain of it in such Cases, from the Benefit your self has\nlately receiv'd in so extraordinary a manner.\nIN answer to this, I confess, I have heard it affirm'd (but not by a\nPhysician) that the Loadstone hath withdrawn the Inflamation and given\nEase in the Gout, and by changing the Application of it from one side\nto the other, has at length chas'd it away, to the perfect recovery\nof the Patient; but in any other Case, excepting your own, I never\nheard of a Cure so much as facilitated or attempted to be perform'd\nthereby; therefore, as the Use of it in any Disease is quite Foreign to\nthe common Practice of Physick, if others, as well as your self, have\nreceiv'd Benefit by this new Discovery, I think not my self oblig'd\nto account for it, till it becomes practical among my own Fraternity,\nand then it will be Time enough for any Physician to give his Thoughts\nthereon; besides, I am a Stranger to the Preparation prescrib'd to you\nby your _Genius_, and without the knowledge of that material Secret,\nit is impossible for any Physician, in your Case, to make a clear\nJudgment, or to know which of the two your Cure is chiefly owing to,\nthe Powder or the Loadstone; for how far the latter may operate upon\na Body prepar'd by _Pulvis Martis_ or other Chalybeates, I shall not\npretend to determine, tho', for ought I know, wonderful Cures may be\nperform'd in that way, but upon what Reason in Nature, such a new\nSystem can be founded, seems very remote from my present understanding;\nbut, since you are become sole Master of so wonderful a Secret, my\nAdvice is, that you keep the _Recipe_ to your self, in Obedience to\nyour _Genius_, and tho' you Assist others, never to do it without Fee\nor Reward, for all useful Discoveries ought to be render'd Profitable.\nIN answer to the last Article of your Request, I shall now proceed to\nsay something of Sympathy, and the Cures reported to have been done\nthereby. The Sympathetick Powder, so highly esteem'd about a hundred\nYears since, by Men of Art in this Kingdom, was first brought into\n_Europe_ by a Religious _Carmelite_, who in his Travels thro' _India_,\n_Persia_, and _China_, had made himself Master of this Secret, and from\nsome of those _Eastern_ Countries, came over into _Tuscany_, where he\nperform'd many considerable Cures by this occult Method, to the great\nAstonishment of the most eminent Physicians and Surgeons in those\nParts; insomuch that the Duke of _Tuscany_ himself was very desirous of\nbecoming Master of this surprizing _Arcanum_, but, the honest Fryar by\nmany handsome Excuses brought himself off, and would not be prevail'd\nupon to communicate his _Nostrum_ to his Highness.\nSOME few Months after this, our Famous _English_ Virtuoso, Sir _Kenelm\nDigby_, happening in his Travels to be at the Grand Duke's Court, an\nOpportunity fell accidentally in the Knight's way to do the Fryar a\nService, which the good old Man took so kindly at his hands, that\nhe recompenc'd the Curtesy with a Discovery of his Secret; and soon\nafter returning into _Persia_, left no Man in _Europe_ Master of the\nsame but Sir _Kenelm_, who was the first Person that brought the\n_Recipe_ into _England_, and that here wrought Cures by it himself, and\nrecommended it to the Practice of others; so that, in a little Time,\nevery Mother-Midwife, and Country Fleabeard, became topping Surgeons,\nespecially for the Cure of Green-Wounds; for it is not to be trusted\nto, in other Cases.\nTHIS Sympathetick Powder, by which many Miracles have been perform'd\nat great Distances, is nothing more than the Simple Powder of _Roman\nVitriol_, either Chymically prepar'd, or imperfectly calcin'd in the\nBeams of the Sun; from whence, 'tis said, it derives a very balsamick\nVirtue; a little of this apply'd to any Instrument that has done\nMischief, or to a Rag dip'd into, or stain'd with, the Blood of a\nWound, never fails of Curing the Patient at the widest Distance,\nprovided the Wound be Curable.\nSIR _Kenelm Digby_, to advance the Credit of this surprising Medicine,\nspeaks very largely in Commendation thereof, in a little Treatise of\nhis, written first in _French_, upon the same Subject; wherein he\nboasts of a remarkable Cure perform'd by himself, in a most wonderful\nmanner, with only the use of this astonishing Powder; and, therefore,\nas in religious Cases, Example goes beyond Precept, so, to convince you\nof the Miracles perform'd by Sympathy, Instances, perhaps, may prove\nmore effectual than Arguments; for which Reason, I shall proceed to\nfurnish you with a notable Experiment of this Magical Powder, and so\nconclude.\n    \"MR. _James Howel_, a trusty Servant to King _James_ the\n    First, famous in those Days for Compiling a Treatise, entitled\n    _Dendrologia_, and afterwards for his Legacy to the World, call'd,\n    _Epistoli\u00e6 Ho-Elian\u00e6_, happen'd, when he was a Young Gentleman, to\n    accidently come by, when two of his dearest Friends were fiercely\n    Engag'd in a very dangerous Duel, and to prevent the Mischief very\n    likely to ensue, too rashly catch'd hold, with his naked Hand, of\n    his Sword, whose Passion prompted him to be the most desperate; in\n    which attempt, the Weapon, being drawn through Mr. _Howel_'s Palm,\n    cut the Nerves and Muscles thereof to the very Bone, and, as they\n    were thus Scuffling, holding up the same Hand to defend one of his\n    Friends from a Blow upon his Head, receiv'd another cut upon the\n    back of his Hand, cross all the Veins and Tendons, more terrible\n    than the former, which, his Friends perceiving, put a sudden stop\n    to their inebrious Fury, run both to embrace him and to express\n    their sorrow for the unhappy Accident, lending him their Assistance\n    to bind up his Wounds with one of his own Garters, and so conducted\n    him to his Lodgings, where they sent immediately for a Surgeon, who\n    found the Case desperate, for he bled abundantly.\n    \"MR. _Howel_, being a Gentleman much respected by the Quality, the\n    News of his Misfortune soon reach'd the Court; and his Majesty,\n    having, also, a great regard for him, sent one of his own Surgeons\n    to attend him, who found the Case to be so very bad that he seem'd\n    doubtful of a Cure, without cutting off his Hand, which occasion'd\n    Mr. _Howel_, about five Days after the Hurt receiv'd, to apply\n    himself to his good Friend and Neighbour, Sir _Kenelm Digby_,\n    who, at that Time was famous for the Sympathetick-Powder, begging\n    his Assistance in that painful Extremity, telling him, that his\n    Surgeons were apprehensive of a Gangrene.\n    \"SIR _Kenelm_, opening the Wounds, found a terrible Case of it,\n    and a dangerous Inflamation upon the Part, which, Mr. _Howel_\n    acknowledg'd, gave him such intolerable Pain as was scarce\n    supportable; the Knight, ask'd him, if he had any Bandage with the\n    Blood upon it, Mr. _Howel_ answer'd, _Yes_; accordingly sent his\n    Servant for the bloody Garter which had first bound up his Wounds,\n    and deliver'd it to Sir _Kenelm_, who, calling for a Bason of\n    Water, went into his Closet for a handful of his Powder, which he\n    infus'd therein, and then soak'd the Garter in the same Liquor;\n    whilst Mr. _Howel_ was talking with another Gentleman, at the\n    further End of the Room, not knowing in the least what Sir _Kenelm_\n    was doing, who, after he had bath'd the Garter in the Bason about a\n    Minute, call'd to his Patient and ask'd him how he found himself,\n    who answer'd, _So wonderful Easy that the Inflamation seems to be\n    totally Extinguish'd, the Pain quite gone off, and my Hand I find\n    as cool and as much refresh'd, as if it was wrap'd up in a wet\n    Napkin_. _Then_, reply'd the Knight, _fling off your Dressings,\n    meddle no more with Plasters, only keep your Wounds clean and\n    from the Air, and I doubt not, but in a few Days Time, I shall\n    effectually Cure you, without putting you to any further Trouble_.\n    Much Comforted with this Assurance, Mr. _Howel_ took a thankful\n    Leave of Sir _Kenelm_, and so departed.\n    \"MR. _Howel_, had not been gone above a Quarter of an Hour, but\n    the Knight took the Garter out of the Liquor, to dry it before the\n    Fire, and carelesly hanging it a little too near, the extraordinary\n    Heat, by the Concatination of Effluvia's, had such an Effect upon\n    the Patient, that he made as many wry Faces as a Cook that had\n    burnt his Fingers; dispatching his Servant, with all imaginable\n    Expedition, to let his Doctor know what a Condition he was relaps'd\n    into.\n    \"SIR _Kenelm_, who presently conjectur'd the Cause of this\n    Disaster, smiling at the Message the Servant had deliver'd, and\n    snatching the Garter from the Fire, told him, that his Master\n    should be very Easy by the Time he could return to him, which\n    the Footman, by the acknowledgment of his Master, found to be\n    true accordingly; Sir _Kenelm_, doing nothing more to work this\n    change, than cooling the wreaking Garter by a speedy Repetition\n    of his former Application; so that, without any further Accident\n    interposing, the Patient was thoroughly cur'd, in five or six Days\n    Time, by this extraordinary Method, to the inexpressible Admiration\n    of all his Majesty's Surgeons.\"\nThis is all, at present, I am at Leisure to say in Answer to your\nLetter, and I doubt you will think it enough too, except more to\nthe purpose: What extraordinary Cures you happen to perform by your\nnew Method, I desire you will communicate to me as soon as you\ncan conveniently, for to hear of your Success, will be no little\nSatisfaction to,\n  _Your assured Friend\n  and humble Servant_.\n_FINIS._\n[Illustration]\n_POSTSCRIPT._\nTHE Powder, communicated to Doctor _Campbel_ by his _Genius_, together,\nwith the Use of the Loadstone, having wrought many wonderful Cures\nupon other Patients as well as himself; this Postscript is to acquaint\nthe Publick, that any Person labouring under one or more of the\nfollowing Calamities, _viz._ Hypochondriacal, Hysterical, Epileptical,\nConvulsive, or any other sort of Fits that either Sex can be subject\nto, may be reliev'd, after the same manner as aforemention'd; at Doctor\n_Campbel_'s House, in _Buckingham_-Court, over against _Old Man_'s\nCoffee-House at _Chairing-Cross_, where they may be readily furnish'd\nwith his _Pulvis Miraculosus_, and the finest sort of _\u00c6gyptian_\nLoadstones, ready arm'd and fitted for the purpose, which if apply'd\nand continu'd according to Direction never fail of Success.\nTranscriber's Notes:\n  Obvious punctuation and spelling errors repaired.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Friendly Daemon, or the Generous Apparition\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Transcribed from the 1888 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email\nccx074@pglaf.org\nFROM\nLONDON TO LAND'S END.\nBY\nDANIEL DEFOE.\nAND\n_Two Letters from the_ \"_Journey through England by a Gentleman_.\"\nCASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:\nLONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE.\nINTRODUCTION.\nAt the end of this book there are a couple of letters from a volume of\nthe \"Travels in England\" which were not by Defoe, although resembling\nDefoe's work so much in form and title, and so near to it in date of\npublication, that a volume of one book is often found taking the place of\na volume of the other.  A purchaser of Defoe's \"Travels in England\" has\ntherefore to take care that he is not buying one of the mixed sets.  Each\nof the two works describes England at the end of the first quarter of the\neighteenth century.  Our added descriptions of Bath, and of the journey\nby Chester to Holyhead, were published in 1722; Defoe's \"Journey from\nLondon to the Land's End\" was published in 1724, and both writers help us\nto compare the past with the present by their accounts of England as it\nwas in the days of George the First, more than a hundred and sixty years\nago.  The days certainly are gone when, after a good haul of pilchards,\nseventeen can be bought for a halfpenny, and two gentlemen and their\nservant can have them broiled at a tavern and dine on them for three\nfarthings, dressing and all.  In another of his journeys Defoe gives a\nseaside tavern bill, in which the charges were ridiculously small for\neverything except for bread.  It was war time, and the bread was the most\ncostly item in the bill.\nIn the earlier part of this account of the \"Journey from London to the\nLand's End,\" there is interest in the fresh memories of the rebuilding\nand planting at Hampton Court by William III. and Queen Mary.  The\npassing away, and in opinion of that day the surpassing, of Wolsey's\npalace there were none then to regret.\nA more characteristic feature in this letter will be found in the details\nof a project which Defoe says he had himself advocated before the Lord-\nTreasurer Godolphin, for the settlement of poor refugees from the\nPalatinate upon land in the New Forest.  Our friendly relations with the\nPalatinate had begun with the marriage of James the First's eldest\ndaughter to the Elector Palatine, who brought on himself much trouble by\naccepting the crown of Bohemia from the subjects of the Emperor Ferdinand\nthe Second.  As a Protestant Prince allied by marriage to England, he\ndrew from England sympathies and ineffectual assistance.  Many years\nafterwards, during the war with France in Queen Anne's time, the allies\nwere unprosperous in 1707, and Marshal Villars was victorious upon the\nRhine.  The pressure of public feeling on behalf of refugees from the\nPalatinate did not last long enough for any action to be taken.  But if\nit had seemed well to the Government to accept the project advocated by\nDefoe, we should have had a clearance of what is now the most beautiful\npart of the New Forest, near Lyndhurst; and in place of the little area\nthat still preserves all the best features of forest land, we should have\nhad a town of Englishmen descended from the latest of the German\nsettlements upon our soil.  Upon the political economy of Defoe's\nproject, and the accuracy of his calculations, and the more or less\nresemblance of his scheme to the system of free grants of land in\nunsettled regions beyond the sea, each reader will speculate in his own\nway.\nThere are interesting notes on the extent of the sheep farming upon the\nDowns crossed in this journey.  There is high praise of the ladies of\nDorsetshire.  There are some pleasant notes upon dialect, including the\nstory, often quoted, of the schoolboy whom Defoe saw and heard reading\nhis Bible in class, and while following every word and line with his eye,\ntranslating it as he went into his own way of speech.  Thus he turned the\nthird verse of the fifth chapter of Solomon's Song, \"I have put off my\ncoat; how shall I put it on?  I have washed my feet; how shall I defile\nthem?\" into \"Chav a doffed my cooat; how shall I don't?  Chav a washed my\nveet; how shall I moil 'em?\"  This is a good example of intelligent\nreading; for the boy took in the sense of the printed lines, and then\nmade it his own by giving homely utterance to what he understood.\nDefoe tells in this letter several tales of the shorefolk about the Great\nStorm of November, 1703, recollection of which Addison used effectively\nin the following year in his poem on the Battle of Blenheim.  There was\nthe sweeping away of the first Eddystone Lighthouse, with the builder,\nconfident in its strength, who had desired to be in it some night when\nthe wind blew with unusual fury.  There was the story also of the man and\ntwo boys, in a ship laden with tin, blown out of Helford Haven, and of\ntheir hairbreadth escape by counsel of one of the boys who ran the ship\nthrough rocks into a narrow creek that he knew in the Isle of Wight.  The\nform of the coast has been changed so much since 1703 by the beat of many\nstorms, that it may be now impossible to know that little cove as the boy\nknew it.  It must have been at the back of the island.  Were the storm\nwaves tossing then in Steephill Cove or Luccombe Chine?  Does there\nsurvive anywhere a tradition of that perilous landing?  Probably not.\nWreck follows upon wreck, and memory of many tales of death and peril on\nthe rock-bound coast lie between us and the boy who took the helm when he\nspied the well-known creek as the great storm was sweeping the ship on to\ndestruction.  From the next year after that famous storm, Defoe gives a\nmemory of disaster seen by himself at Plymouth in the wreck of a little\nfleet from Barbadoes.  In another part of this letter he tells what he\nhad seen of a fight at sea between three French men-of-war and two\nEnglish with a convoy of two or three trading vessels.\nThere will be found also in this letter a good story of a Cornish dog\ntaken from Carew's \"Survey of Cornwall,\" which may pair with that of the\nLondon dog who lately took a wounded fellow dog to hospital.\nThe writer of this letter speaks of the civil war times as a friend of\nmonarchy, but when he tells of the landing of William III. at Torbay, he\nsuggests that the people had good reason for rejoicing, and throughout\nthe journey he takes note of a great inequality he finds in distribution\nof the right of returning members to Parliament.  It is evident that he\ncould propound a project for a Reform Bill, though he is careful so to\ndescribe England as to avoid giving offence to Englishmen of any party.\nThe possibility of some change for the better here and there presents\nitself; Defoe glances and passes on.  His theme is England and the\nEnglish; he shows us, clearly and very simply, what he has seen of the\nsocial life and manners of the people, of the features of the land\nitself, and their relation to its industries; traces of the past, and\nprospects of the future; shepherds, fishermen, merchants; catching of\nsalmon peel in mill-weirs, and catching of husbands at provincial\nassemblies; with whatever else he found worth friendly observation.\nH. M.\nFROM LONDON TO LAND'S END\nSir,\nI find so much left to speak of, and so many things to say in every part\nof England, that my journey cannot be barren of intelligence which way\nsoever I turn; no, though I were to oblige myself to say nothing of\nanything that had been spoken of before.\nI intended once to have gone due west this journey; but then I should\nhave been obliged to crowd my observations so close (to bring Hampton\nCourt, Windsor, Blenheim, Oxford, the Bath and Bristol all into one\nletter; all those remarkable places lying in a line, as it were, in one\npoint of the compass) as to have made my letter too long, or my\nobservations too light and superficial, as others have done before me.\nThis letter will divide the weighty task, and consequently make it sit\nlighter on the memory, be pleasanter to the reader, and make my progress\nthe more regular: I shall therefore take in Hampton Court and Windsor in\nthis journey; the first at my setting out, and the last at my return, and\nthe rest as their situation demands.\nAs I came down from Kingston, in my last circuit, by the south bank of\nthe Thames, on the Surrey side of the river; so I go up to Hampton Court\nnow on the north bank, and on the Middlesex side, which I mention,\nbecause, as the sides of the country bordering on the river lie parallel,\nso the beauty of the country, the pleasant situations, the glory of\ninnumerable fine buildings (noblemen's and gentlemen's houses, and\ncitizens' retreats), are so equal a match to what I had described on the\nother side that one knows not which to give the preference to: but as I\nmust speak of them again, when I come to write of the county of\nMiddlesex, which I have now purposely omitted; so I pass them over here,\nexcept the palace of Hampton only, which I mentioned in \"Middlesex,\" for\nthe reasons above.\nHampton Court lies on the north bank of the River Thames, about two small\nmiles from Kingston, and on the road from Staines to Kingston Bridge; so\nthat the road straightening the parks a little, they were obliged to part\nthe parks, and leave the Paddock and the great park part on the other\nside the road--a testimony of that just regard that the kings of England\nalways had, and still have, to the common good, and to the service of the\ncountry, that they would not interrupt the course of the road, or cause\nthe poor people to go out of the way of their business to or from the\nmarkets and fairs, for any pleasure of their own whatsoever.\nThe palace of Hampton Court was first founded and built from the ground\nby that great statesman and favourite of King Henry VIII, Cardinal\nWolsey; and if it be a just observation anywhere, as is made from the\nsituation of the old abbeys and monasteries, the clergy were excellent\njudges of the beauty and pleasantness of the country, and chose always to\nplant in the best; I say, if it was a just observation in any case, it\nwas in this; for if there be a situation on the whole river between\nStaines Bridge and Windsor Bridge pleasanter than another, it is this of\nHampton; close to the river, yet not offended by the rising of its waters\nin floods or storms; near to the reflux of the tides, but not quite so\nnear as to be affected with any foulness of the water which the flowing\nof the tides generally is the occasion of.  The gardens extend almost to\nthe bank of the river, yet are never overflowed; nor are there any\nmarshes on either side the river to make the waters stagnate, or the air\nunwholesome on that account.  The river is high enough to be navigable,\nand low enough to be a little pleasantly rapid; so that the stream looks\nalways cheerful, not slow and sleeping, like a pond.  This keeps the\nwaters always clear and clean, the bottom in view, the fish playing and\nin sight; and, in a word, it has everything that can make an inland (or,\nas I may call it, a country) river pleasant and agreeable.\nI shall sing you no songs here of the river in the first person of a\nwater-nymph, a goddess, and I know not what, according to the humour of\nthe ancient poets; I shall talk nothing of the marriage of old Isis, the\nmale river, with the beautiful Thame, the female river (a whimsey as\nsimple as the subject was empty); but I shall speak of the river as\noccasion presents, as it really is made glorious by the splendour of its\nshores, gilded with noble palaces, strong fortifications, large\nhospitals, and public buildings; with the greatest bridge, and the\ngreatest city in the world, made famous by the opulence of its merchants,\nthe increase and extensiveness of its commerce; by its invincible navies,\nand by the innumerable fleets of ships sailing upon it to and from all\nparts of the world.\nAs I meet with the river upwards in my travels through the inland country\nI shall speak of it, as it is the channel for conveying an infinite\nquantity of provisions from remote counties to London, and enriching all\nthe counties again that lie near it by the return of wealth and trade\nfrom the city; and in describing these things I expect both to inform and\ndivert my readers, and speak in a more masculine manner, more to the\ndignity of the subject, and also more to their satisfaction, than I could\ndo any other way.\nThere is little more to be said of the Thames relating to Hampton Court,\nthan that it adds by its neighbourhood to the pleasure of the situation;\nfor as to passing by water to and from London, though in summer it is\nexceeding pleasant, yet the passage is a little too long to make it easy\nto the ladies, especially to be crowded up in the small boats which\nusually go upon the Thames for pleasure.\nThe prince and princess, indeed, I remember came once down by water upon\nthe occasion of her Royal Highness's being great with child, and near her\ntime--so near that she was delivered within two or three days after.  But\nthis passage being in the royal barges, with strength of oars, and the\nday exceeding fine, the passage, I say, was made very pleasant, and still\nthe more so for being short.  Again, this passage is all the way with the\nstream, whereas in the common passage upwards great part of the way is\nagainst the stream, which is slow and heavy.\nBut be the going and coming how it will by water, it is an exceeding\npleasant passage by land, whether we go by the Surrey side or the\nMiddlesex side of the water, of which I shall say more in its place.\nThe situation of Hampton Court being thus mentioned, and its founder, it\nis to be mentioned next that it fell to the Crown in the forfeiture of\nhis Eminence the Cardinal, when the king seized his effects and estate,\nby which this and Whitehall (another house of his own building also) came\nto King Henry VIII.  Two palaces fit for the kings of England, erected by\none cardinal, are standing monuments of the excessive pride as well as\nthe immense wealth of that prelate, who knew no bounds of his insolence\nand ambition till he was overthrown at once by the displeasure of his\nmaster.\nWhoever knew Hampton Court before it was begun to be rebuilt, or altered,\nby the late King William, must acknowledge it was a very complete palace\nbefore, and fit for a king; and though it might not, according to the\nmodern method of building or of gardening, pass for a thing exquisitely\nfine, yet it had this remaining to itself, and perhaps peculiar--namely,\nthat it showed a situation exceedingly capable of improvement, and of\nbeing made one of the most delightful palaces in Europe.\nThis her Majesty Queen Mary was so sensible of, that, while the king had\nordered the pulling down the old apartments, and building it up in that\nmost beautiful form which we see them now appear in, her Majesty,\nimpatient of enjoying so agreeable a retreat, fixed upon a building\nformerly made use of chiefly for landing from the river, and therefore\ncalled the Water Galley, and here, as if she had been conscious that she\nhad but a few years to enjoy it, she ordered all the little neat curious\nthings to be done which suited her own conveniences, and made it the\npleasantest little thing within doors that could possibly be made, though\nits situation being such as it could not be allowed to stand after the\ngreat building was finished, we now see no remains of it.\nThe queen had here her gallery of beauties, being the pictures at full-\nlength of the principal ladies attending upon her Majesty, or who were\nfrequently in her retinue; and this was the more beautiful sight because\nthe originals were all in being, and often to be compared with their\npictures.  Her Majesty had here a fine apartment, with a set of lodgings\nfor her private retreat only, but most exquisitely furnished,\nparticularly a fine chintz bed, then a great curiosity; another of her\nown work while in Holland, very magnificent, and several others; and here\nwas also her Majesty's fine collection of Delft ware, which indeed was\nvery large and fine; and here was also a vast stock of fine china ware,\nthe like whereof was not then to be seen in England; the long gallery, as\nabove, was filled with this china, and every other place where it could\nbe placed with advantage.\nThe queen had here also a small bathing-room, made very fine, suited\neither to hot or cold bathing, as the season should invite; also a dairy,\nwith all its conveniences, in which her Majesty took great delight.  All\nthese things were finished with expedition, that here their Majesties\nmight repose while they saw the main building go forward.  While this was\ndoing, the gardens were laid out, the plan of them devised by the king\nhimself, and especially the amendments and alterations were made by the\nking or the queen's particular special command, or by both, for their\nMajesties agreed so well in their fancy, and had both so good judgment in\nthe just proportions of things, which are the principal beauties of a\ngarden, that it may be said they both ordered everything that was done.\nHere the fine parcel of limes which form the semicircle on the south\nfront of the house by the iron gates, looking into the park, were by the\ndexterous hand of the head gardener removed, after some of them had been\nalmost thirty years planted in other places, though not far off.  I know\nthe King of France in the decoration of the gardens of Versailles had\noaks removed, which by their dimensions must have been above an hundred\nyears old, and yet were taken up with so much art, and by the strength of\nsuch engines, by which such a monstrous quantity of earth was raised with\nthem, that the trees could not feel their remove--that is to say, their\ngrowth was not at all hindered.  This, I confess, makes the wonder much\nthe less in those trees at Hampton Court gardens; but the performance was\nnot the less difficult or nice, however, in these, and they thrive\nperfectly well.\nWhile the gardens were thus laid out, the king also directed the laying\nthe pipes for the fountains and _jet-d'eaux_, and particularly the\ndimensions of them, and what quantity of water they should cast up, and\nincreased the number of them after the first design.\nThe ground on the side of the other front has received some alterations\nsince the taking down the Water Galley; but not that part immediately\nnext the lodgings.  The orange-trees and fine Dutch bays are placed\nwithin the arches of the building under the first floor; so that the\nlower part of the house was all one as a greenhouse for sometime.  Here\nstand advanced, on two pedestals of stone, two marble vases or flower-\npots of most exquisite workmanship--the one done by an Englishman, and\nthe other by a German.  It is hard to say which is the best performance,\nthough the doing of it was a kind of trial of skill between them; but it\ngives us room, without any partiality, to say they were both masters of\ntheir art.\nThe _parterre_ on that side descends from the terrace-walk by steps, and\non the left a terrace goes down to the water-side, from which the garden\non the eastward front is overlooked, and gives a most pleasant prospect.\nThe fine scrolls and _bordure_ of these gardens were at first edged with\nbox, but on the queen's disliking the smell those edgings were taken up,\nbut have since been planted again--at least, in many places--nothing\nmaking so fair and regular an edging as box, or is so soon brought to its\nperfection.\nOn the north side of the house, where the gardens seemed to want\nscreening from the weather or the view of the chapel, and some part of\nthe old building required to be covered from the eye, the vacant ground,\nwhich was large, is very happily cast into a wilderness, with a labyrinth\nand _espaliers_ so high that they effectually take off all that part of\nthe old building which would have been offensive to the sight.  This\nlabyrinth and wilderness is not only well designed, and completely\nfinished, but is perfectly well kept, and the _espaliers_ filled exactly\nat bottom, to the very ground, and are led up to proportioned heights on\nthe top, so that nothing of that kind can be more beautiful.\nThe house itself is every way answerable on the outside to the beautiful\nprospect, and the two fronts are the largest and, beyond comparison, the\nfinest of the kind in England.  The great stairs go up from the second\ncourt of the palace on the right hand, and lead you to the south\nprospect.\nI hinted in my last that King William brought into England the love of\nfine paintings as well as that of fine gardens; and you have an example\nof it in the cartoons, as they are called, being five pieces of such\npaintings as, if you will believe men of nice judgment and great\ntravelling, are not to be matched in Europe.  The stories are known, but\nespecially two of them--viz., that of St. Paul preaching on Mars Hill to\nthe self-wise Athenians, and that of St. Peter passing sentence of death\non Ananias--I say, these two strike the mind with the utmost surprise,\nthe passions are so drawn to the life; astonishment, terror, and death in\nthe face of Ananias, zeal and a sacred fire in the eyes of the blessed\nApostle, fright and surprise upon the countenances of the beholders in\nthe piece of Ananias; all these describe themselves so naturally that you\ncannot but seem to discover something of the like passions, even in\nseeing them.\nIn the other there is the boldness and courage with which St. Paul\nundertook to talk to a set of men who, he knew, despised all the world,\nas thinking themselves able to teach them anything.  In the audience\nthere is anticipating pride and conceit in some, a smile or fleer of\ncontempt in others, but a kind of sensible conviction, though crushed in\nits beginning, on the faces of the rest; and all together appear\nconfounded, but have little to say, and know nothing at all of it; they\ngravely put him off to hear him another time; all these are seen here in\nthe very dress of the face--that is, the very countenances which they\nhold while they listen to the new doctrine which the Apostle preached to\na people at that time ignorant of it.\nThe other of the cartoons are exceeding fine but I mention these as the\nparticular two which are most lively, which strike the fancy the soonest\nat first view.  It is reported, but with what truth I know not, that the\nlate French king offered an hundred thousand _louis d'ors_ for these\npictures; but this, I say, is but a report.  The king brought a great\nmany other fine pieces to England, and with them the love of fine\npaintings so universally spread itself among the nobility and persons of\nfigure all over the kingdom that it is incredible what collections have\nbeen made by English gentlemen since that time, and how all Europe has\nbeen rummaged, as we may say, for pictures to bring over hither, where\nfor twenty years they yielded the purchasers, such as collected them for\nsale, immense profit.  But the rates are abated since that, and we begin\nto be glutted with the copies and frauds of the Dutch and Flemish\npainters who have imposed grossly upon us.  But to return to the palace\nof Hampton Court.  Queen Mary lived not to see it completely finished,\nand her death, with the other difficulties of that reign, put a stop to\nthe works for some time till the king, reviving his good liking of the\nplace, set them to work again, and it was finished as we see it.  But I\nhave been assured that had the peace continued, and the king lived to\nenjoy the continuance of it, his Majesty had resolved to have pulled down\nall the remains of the old building (such as the chapel and the large\ncourt within the first gate), and to have built up the whole palace after\nthe manner of those two fronts already done.  In these would have been an\nentire set of rooms of state for the receiving and, if need had been,\nlodging and entertaining any foreign prince with his retinue; also\noffices for all the Secretaries of State, Lords of the Treasury, and of\nTrade, to have repaired to for the despatch of such business as it might\nbe necessary to have done there upon the king's longer residence there\nthan ordinary; as also apartments for all the great officers of the\nHousehold; so that had the house had two great squares added, as was\ndesigned, there would have been no room to spare, or that would not have\nbeen very well filled.  But the king's death put an end to all these\nthings.\nSince the death of King William, Hampton Court seemed abandoned of its\npatron.  They have gotten a kind of proverbial saying relating to Hampton\nCourt, viz., that it has been generally chosen by every other prince\nsince it became a house of note.  King Charles was the first that\ndelighted in it since Queen Elizabeth's time.  As for the reigns before,\nit was but newly forfeited to the Crown, and was not made a royal house\ntill King Charles I., who was not only a prince that delighted in country\nretirements, but knew how to make choice of them by the beauty of their\nsituation, the goodness of the air, &c.  He took great delight here, and,\nhad he lived to enjoy it in peace, had purposed to make it another thing\nthan it was.  But we all know what took him off from that felicity, and\nall others; and this house was at last made one of his prisons by his\nrebellious subjects.\nHis son, King Charles II., may well be said to have an aversion to the\nplace, for the reason just mentioned--namely, the treatment his royal\nfather met with there--and particularly that the rebel and murderer of\nhis father, Cromwell, afterwards possessed this palace, and revelled here\nin the blood of the royal party, as he had done in that of his sovereign.\nKing Charles II. therefore chose Windsor, and bestowed a vast sum in\nbeautifying the castle there, and which brought it to the perfection we\nsee it in at this day--some few alterations excepted, done in the time of\nKing William.\nKing William (for King James is not to be named as to his choice of\nretired palaces, his delight running quite another way)--I say, King\nWilliam fixed upon Hampton Court, and it was in his reign that Hampton\nCourt put on new clothes, and, being dressed gay and glorious, made the\nfigure we now see it in.\nThe late queen, taken up for part of her reign in her kind regards to the\nprince her spouse, was obliged to reside where her care of his health\nconfined her, and in this case kept for the most part at Kensington,\nwhere he died; but her Majesty always discovered her delight to be at\nWindsor, where she chose the little house, as it was called, opposite to\nthe Castle, and took the air in her chaise in the parks and forest as she\nsaw occasion.\nNow Hampton Court, by the like alternative, is come into request again;\nand we find his present Majesty, who is a good judge too of the\npleasantness and situation of a place of that kind, has taken Hampton\nCourt into his favour, and has made it much his choice for the summer's\nretreat of the Court, and where they may best enjoy the diversions of the\nseason.  When Hampton Court will find such another favourable juncture as\nin King William's time, when the remainder of her ashes shall be swept\naway, and her complete fabric, as designed by King William, shall be\nfinished, I cannot tell; but if ever that shall be, I know no palace in\nEurope, Versailles excepted, which can come up to her, either for beauty\nand magnificence, or for extent of building, and the ornaments attending\nit.\nFrom Hampton Court I directed my course for a journey into the south-west\npart of England; and to take up my beginning where I concluded my last, I\ncrossed to Chertsey on the Thames, a town I mentioned before; from\nwhence, crossing the Black Desert, as I called it, of Bagshot Heath, I\ndirected my course for Hampshire or Hantshire, and particularly for\nBasingstoke--that is to say, that a little before, I passed into the\ngreat Western Road upon the heath, somewhat west of Bagshot, at a village\ncalled Blackwater, and entered Hampshire, near Hartleroe.\nBefore we reach Basingstoke, we get rid of that unpleasant country which\nI so often call a desert, and enter into a pleasant fertile country,\nenclosed and cultivated like the rest of England; and passing a village\nor two we enter Basingstoke, in the midst of woods and pastures, rich and\nfertile, and the country accordingly spread with the houses of the\nnobility and gentry, as in other places.  On the right hand, a little\nbefore we come to the town, we pass at a small distance the famous\nfortress, so it was then, of Basing, being a house belonging then to the\nMarquis of Winchester, the great ancestor of the present family of the\nDukes of Bolton.\nThis house, garrisoned by a resolute band of old soldiers, was a great\ncurb to the rebels of the Parliament party almost through that whole war;\ntill it was, after a vigorous defence, yielded to the conquerors by the\ninevitable fate of things at that time.  The old house is, indeed,\ndemolished but the successor of the family, the first Duke of Bolton, has\nerected a very noble fabric in the same place, or near it, which,\nhowever, is not equal to the magnificence which fame gives to the ancient\nhouse, whose strength of building only, besides the outworks, withstood\nthe battery of cannon in several attacks, and repulsed the Roundheads\nthree or four times when they attempted to besiege it.  It is incredible\nwhat booty the garrison of this place picked up, lying as they did just\non the great Western Road, where they intercepted the carriers, plundered\nthe waggons, and suffered nothing to pass--to the great interruption of\nthe trade of the city of London.\nBasingstoke is a large populous market-town, has a good market for corn,\nand lately within a very few years is fallen into a manufacture, viz., of\nmaking druggets and shalloons, and such slight goods, which, however,\nemploys a good number of the poor people, and enables them to get their\nbread, which knew not how to get it before.\nFrom hence the great Western Road goes on to Whitchurch and Andover, two\nmarket-towns, and sending members to Parliament; at the last of which the\nDowns, or open country, begins, which we in general, though falsely, call\nSalisbury Plain.  But my resolution being to take in my view what I had\npassed by before, I was obliged to go off to the left hand, to Alresford\nand Winchester.\nAlresford was a flourishing market-town, and remarkable for this--that\nthough it had no great trade, and particularly very little, if any,\nmanufactures, yet there was no collection in the town for the poor, nor\nany poor low enough to take alms of the parish, which is what I do not\nthink can be said of any town in England besides.\nBut this happy circumstance, which so distinguished Alresford from all\nher neighbours, was brought to an end in the year ---, when by a sudden\nand surprising fire the whole town, with both the church and the market-\nhouse, was reduced to a heap of rubbish; and, except a few poor huts at\nthe remotest ends of the town, not a house left standing.  The town is\nsince that very handsomely rebuilt, and the neighbouring gentlemen\ncontributed largely to the relief of the people, especially by sending in\ntimber towards their building; also their market-house is handsomely\nbuilt, but the church not yet, though we hear there is a fund raising\nlikewise for that.\nHere is a very large pond, or lake of water, kept up to a head by a\nstrong _batter d'eau_, or dam, which the people tell us was made by the\nRomans; and that it is to this day part of the great Roman highway which\nleads from Winchester to Alton, and, as it is supposed, went on to\nLondon, though we nowhere see any remains of it, except between\nWinchester and Alton, and chiefly between this town and Alton.\nNear this town, a little north-west, the Duke of Bolton has another seat,\nwhich, though not large, is a very handsome beautiful palace, and the\ngardens not only very exact, but very finely situate, the prospect and\nvistas noble and great, and the whole very well kept.\nFrom hence, at the end of seven miles over the Downs, we come to the very\nancient city of Winchester; not only the great church (which is so famous\nall over Europe, and has been so much talked of), but even the whole city\nhas at a distance the face of venerable, and looks ancient afar off; and\nyet here are many modern buildings too, and some very handsome; as the\ncollege schools, with the bishop's palace, built by Bishop Morley since\nthe late wars--the old palace of the bishop having been ruined by that\nknown church incendiary Sir William Waller and his crew of plunderers,\nwho, if my information is not wrong, as I believe it is not, destroyed\nmore monuments of the dead, and defaced more churches, than all the\nRoundheads in England beside.\nThis church, and the schools also are accurately described by several\nwriters, especially by the \"Monasticon,\" where their antiquity and\noriginal is fully set forth.  The outside of the church is as plain and\ncoarse as if the founders had abhorred ornaments, or that William of\nWickham had been a Quaker, or at least a Quietist.  There is neither\nstatue, nor a niche for a statue, to be seen on all the outside; no\ncarved work, no spires, towers, pinnacles, balustrades, or anything; but\nmere walls, buttresses, windows, and coigns necessary to the support and\norder of the building.  It has no steeple, but a short tower covered\nflat, as if the top of it had fallen down, and it had been covered in\nhaste to keep the rain out till they had time to build it up again.\nBut the inside of the church has many very good things in it, and worth\nobservation; it was for some ages the burying-place of the English Saxon\nkings, whose _reliques_, at the repair of the church, were collected by\nBishop Fox, and being put together into large wooden chests lined with\nlead were again interred at the foot of the great wall in the choir,\nthree on one side, and three on the other, with an account whose bones\nare in each chest.  Whether the division of the _reliques_ might be\ndepended upon, has been doubted, but is not thought material, so that we\ndo but believe they are all there.\nThe choir of the church appears very magnificent; the roof is very high,\nand the Gothic work in the arched part is very fine, though very old; the\npainting in the windows is admirably good, and easy to be distinguished\nby those that understand those things: the steps ascending to the choir\nmake a very fine show, having the statues of King James and his son King\nCharles, in copper, finely cast; the first on the right hand, and the\nother on the left, as you go up to the choir.\nThe choir is said to be the longest in England; and as the number of\nprebendaries, canons, &c., are many, it required such a length.  The\nornaments of the choir are the effects of the bounty of several bishops.\nThe fine altar (the noblest in England by much) was done by Bishop\nMorley; the roof and the coat-of-arms of the Saxon and Norman kings were\ndone by Bishop Fox; and the fine throne for the bishop in the choir was\ngiven by Bishop Mew in his lifetime; and it was well it was for if he had\nordered it by will, there is reason to believe it had never been\ndone--that reverend prelate, notwithstanding he enjoyed so rich a\nbishopric, scarce leaving money enough behind him to pay for his coffin.\nThere are a great many persons of rank buried in this church, besides the\nSaxon kings mentioned above, and besides several of the most eminent\nbishops of the See.  Just under the altar lies a son of William the\nConqueror, without any monument; and behind the altar, under a very fine\nand venerable monument, lies the famous Lord Treasurer Weston, late Earl\nof Portland, Lord High Treasurer of England under King Charles I.  His\neffigy is in copper armour at full-length, with his head raised on three\ncushions of the same, and is a very magnificent work.  There is also a\nvery fine monument of Cardinal Beaufort in his cardinal's robes and hat.\nThe monument of Sir John Cloberry is extraordinary, but more because it\nputs strangers upon inquiring into his story than for anything wonderful\nin the figure, it being cut in a modern dress (the habit gentlemen wore\nin those times, which, being now so much out of fashion, appears mean\nenough).  But this gentleman's story is particular, being the person\nsolely entrusted with the secret of the restoration of King Charles II.,\nas the messenger that passed between General Monk on one hand, and Mr.\nMontague and others entrusted by King Charles II. on the other hand;\nwhich he managed so faithfully as to effect that memorable event, to\nwhich England owes the felicity of all her happy days since that time; by\nwhich faithful service Sir John Cloberry, then a private musketeer only,\nraised himself to the honour of a knight, with the reward of a good\nestate from the bounty of the king.\nEverybody that goes into this church, and reads what is to be read there,\nwill be told that the body of the church was built by the famous William\nof Wickham; whose monument, intimating his fame, lies in the middle of\nthat part which was built at his expense.\nHe was a courtier before a bishop; and, though he had no great share of\nlearning, he was a great promoter of it, and a lover of learned men.  His\nnatural genius was much beyond his acquired parts, and his skill in\npolitics beyond his ecclesiastic knowledge.  He is said to have put his\nmaster, King Edward III., to whom he was Secretary of State, upon the two\ngreat projects which made his reign so glorious, viz.:--First, upon\nsetting up his claim to the crown of France, and pushing that claim by\nforce of arms, which brought on the war with France, in which that prince\nwas three times victorious in battle. (2)  Upon setting up, or\ninstituting the Order of the Garter; in which he (being before that made\nBishop of Winchester) obtained the honour for the Bishops of Winchester\nof being always prelates of the Order, as an appendix to the bishopric;\nand he himself was the first prelate of the Order, and the ensigns of\nthat honour are joined with his episcopal ornaments in the robing of his\neffigy on the monument above.\nTo the honour of this bishop, there are other foundations of his, as much\nto his fame as that of this church, of which I shall speak in their\norder; but particularly the college in this city, which is a noble\nfoundation indeed.  The building consists of two large courts, in which\nare the lodgings for the masters and scholars, and in the centre a very\nnoble chapel; beyond that, in the second court, are the schools, with a\nlarge cloister beyond them, and some enclosures laid open for the\ndiversion of the scholars.  There also is a great hall, where the\nscholars dine.  The funds for the support of this college are very\nconsiderable; the masters live in a very good figure, and their\nmaintenance is sufficient to support it.  They have all separate\ndwellings in the house, and all possible conveniences appointed them.\nThe scholars have exhibitions at a certain time of continuance here, if\nthey please to study in the new college at Oxford, built by the same\nnoble benefactor, of which I shall speak in its order.\nThe clergy here live at large, and very handsomely, in the Close\nbelonging to the cathedral; where, besides the bishop's palace mentioned\nabove, are very good houses, and very handsomely built, for the\nprebendaries, canons, and other dignitaries of this church.  The Deanery\nis a very pleasant dwelling, the gardens very large, and the river\nrunning through them; but the floods in winter sometimes incommode the\ngardens very much.\nThis school has fully answered the end of the founder, who, though he was\nno great scholar, resolved to erect a house for the making the ages to\ncome more learned than those that went before; and it has, I say, fully\nanswered the end, for many learned and great men have been raised here,\nsome of whom we shall have occasion to mention as we go on.\nAmong the many private inscriptions in this church, we found one made by\nDr. Over, once an eminent physician in this city, on a mother and child,\nwho, being his patients, died together and were buried in the same grave,\nand which intimate that one died of a fever, and the other of a dropsy:\n   \"Surrepuit natum Febris, matrem abstulit Hydrops,\n   Igne Prior Fatis, Altera cepit Aqua.\"\nAs the city itself stands in a vale on the bank, and at the conjunction\nof two small rivers, so the country rising every way, but just as the\ncourse of the water keeps the valley open, you must necessarily, as you\ngo out of the gates, go uphill every way; but when once ascended, you\ncome to the most charming plains and most pleasant country of that kind\nin England; which continues with very small intersections of rivers and\nvalleys for above fifty miles, as shall appear in the sequel of this\njourney.\nAt the west gate of this city was anciently a castle, known to be so by\nthe ruins more than by any extraordinary notice taken of it in history.\nWhat they say of it, that the Saxon kings kept their court here, is\ndoubtful, and must be meant of the West Saxons only.  And as to the tale\nof King Arthur's Round Table, which they pretend was kept here for him\nand his two dozen of knights (which table hangs up still, as a piece of\nantiquity to the tune of twelve hundred years, and has, as they pretend,\nthe names of the said knights in Saxon characters, and yet such as no man\ncan read), all this story I see so little ground to give the least credit\nto that I look upon it, and it shall please you, to be no better than a\nfib.\nWhere this castle stood, or whatever else it was (for some say there was\nno castle there), the late King Charles II. marked out a very noble\ndesign, which, had he lived, would certainly have made that part of the\ncountry the Newmarket of the ages to come; for the country hereabout far\nexcels that of Newmarket Heath for all kinds of sport and diversion fit\nfor a prince, nobody can dispute.  And as the design included a noble\npalace (sufficient, like Windsor, for a summer residence of the whole\ncourt), it would certainly have diverted the king from his cursory\njourneys to Newmarket.\nThe plan of this house has received several alterations, and as it is\nnever like to be finished, it is scarce worth recording the variety.  The\nbuilding is begun, and the front next the city carried up to the roof and\ncovered, but the remainder is not begun.  There was a street of houses\ndesigned from the gate of the palace down to the town, but it was never\nbegun to be built; the park marked out was exceeding large, near ten\nmiles in circumference, and ended west upon the open Downs, in view of\nthe town of Stockbridge.\nThis house was afterwards settled, with a royal revenue also, as an\nappanage (established by Parliament) upon Prince George of Denmark for\nhis life, in case he had out-lived the queen; but his Royal Highness\ndying before her Majesty, all hope of seeing this design perfected, or\nthe house finished, is now vanished.\nI cannot omit that there are several public edifices in this city and in\nthe neighbourhood, as the hospitals and the building adjoining near the\neast gate; and towards the north a piece of an old monastery\nundemolished, and which is still preserved to the religion, being the\nresidence of some private Roman Catholic gentlemen, where they have an\noratory, and, as they say, live still according to the rules of St.\nBenedict.  This building is called Hide House; and as they live very\nusefully, and to the highest degree obliging among their neighbours, they\nmeet with no obstruction or disturbance from anybody.\nWinchester is a place of no trade other than is naturally occasioned by\nthe inhabitants of the city and neighbouring villages one with another.\nHere is no manufacture, no navigation; there was indeed an attempt to\nmake the river navigable from Southampton, and it was once made\npracticable, but it never answered the expense so as to give\nencouragement to the undertakers.\nHere is a great deal of good company, and abundance of gentry being in\nthe neighbourhood, it adds to the sociableness of the place.  The clergy\nalso here are, generally speaking, very rich and very numerous.\nAs there is such good company, so they are gotten into that new-fashioned\nway of conversing by assemblies.  I shall do no more than mention them\nhere; they are pleasant and agreeable to the young peoples, and sometimes\nfatal to them, of which, in its place, Winchester has its share of the\nmirth.  May it escape the ill-consequences!\nThe hospital on the south of this city, at a mile distant on the road to\nSouthampton, is worth notice.  It is said to be founded by King William\nRufus, but was not endowed or appointed till later times by Cardinal\nBeaufort.  Every traveller that knocks at the door of this house in his\nway, and asks for it, claims the relief of a piece of white bread and a\ncup of beer, and this donation is still continued.  A quantity of good\nbeer is set apart every day to be given away, and what is left is\ndistributed to other poor, but none of it kept to the next day.\nHow the revenues of this hospital, which should maintain the master and\nthirty private gentlemen (whom they call Fellows, but ought to call\nBrothers), is now reduced to maintain only fourteen, while the master\nlives in a figure equal to the best gentleman in the country, would be\nwell worth the inquiry of a proper visitor, if such can be named.  It is\na thing worthy of complaint when public charities, designed for the\nrelief of the poor, are embezzled and depredated by the rich, and turned\nto the support of luxury and pride.\nFrom Winchester is about twenty-five miles, and over the most charming\nplains that can anywhere be seen (far, in my opinion, excelling the\nplains of Mecca), we come to Salisbury.  The vast flocks of sheep which\none everywhere sees upon these Downs, and the great number of those\nflocks, is a sight truly worth observation; it is ordinary for these\nflocks to contain from three thousand to five thousand in a flock, and\nseveral private farmers hereabouts have two or three such flocks.\nBut it is more remarkable still how a great part of these Downs comes, by\na new method of husbandry, to be not only made arable (which they never\nwere in former days), but to bear excellent wheat, and great crops, too,\nthough otherwise poor barren land, and never known to our ancestors to be\ncapable of any such thing--nay, they would perhaps have laughed at any\none that would have gone about to plough up the wild downs and hills\nwhere the sheep were wont to go.  But experience has made the present age\nwiser and more skilful in husbandry; for by only folding the sheep upon\nthe ploughed lands--those lands which otherwise are barren, and where the\nplough goes within three or four inches of the solid rock of chalk, are\nmade fruitful and bear very good wheat, as well as rye and barley.  I\nshall say more of this when I come to speak of the same practice farther\nin the country.\nThis plain country continues in length from Winchester to Salisbury\n(twenty-five miles), from thence to Dorchester (twenty-two miles), thence\nto Weymouth (six miles); so that they lie near fifty miles in length and\nbreadth; they reach also in some places thirty-five to forty miles.  They\nwho would make any practicable guess at the number of sheep usually fed\non these Downs may take it from a calculation made, as I was told, at\nDorchester, that there were six hundred thousand sheep fed within six\nmiles of that town, measuring every way round and the town in the centre.\nAs we passed this plain country, we saw a great many old camps, as well\nRoman as British, and several remains of the ancient inhabitants of this\nkingdom, and of their wars, battles, entrenchments, encampments,\nbuildings, and other fortifications, which are indeed very agreeable to a\ntraveller that has read anything of the history of the country.  Old\nSarum is as remarkable as any of these, where there is a double\nentrenchment, with a deep graff or ditch to either of them; the area\nabout one hundred yards in diameter, taking in the whole crown of the\nhill, and thereby rendering the ascent very difficult.  Near this there\nis one farm-house, which is all the remains I could see of any town in or\nnear the place (for the encampment has no resemblance of a town), and yet\nthis is called the borough of Old Sarum, and sends two members to\nParliament.  Whom those members can justly say they represent would be\nhard for them to answer.\nSome will have it that the old city of _Sorbiodunum_ or Salisbury stood\nhere, and was afterwards (for I know not what reasons) removed to the low\nmarshy grounds among the rivers, where it now stands.  But as I see no\nauthority for it other than mere tradition, I believe my share of it, and\ntake it _ad referendum_.\nSalisbury itself is indeed a large and pleasant city, though I do not\nthink it at all the pleasanter for that which they boast so much\nof--namely, the water running through the middle of every street--or that\nit adds anything to the beauty of the place, but just the contrary; it\nkeeps the streets always dirty, full of wet and filth and weeds, even in\nthe middle of summer.\nThe city is placed upon the confluence of two large rivers, the Avon and\nthe Willy, neither of them considerable rivers, but very large when\njoined together, and yet larger when they receive a third river (viz.,\nthe Naddir), which joins them near Clarendon Park, about three miles\nbelow the city; then, with a deep channel and a current less rapid, they\nrun down to Christchurch, which is their port.  And where they empty\nthemselves into the sea, from that town upwards towards Salisbury they\nare made navigable to within two miles, and might be so quite into the\ncity, were it not for the strength of the stream.\nAs the city of Winchester is a city without trade--that is to say,\nwithout any particular manufactures--so this city of Salisbury and all\nthe county of Wilts, of which it is the capital, are full of a great\nvariety of manufactures, and those some of the most considerable in\nEngland--namely, the clothing trade and the trade of flannels, druggets,\nand several other sorts of manufactures, of which in their order.\nThe city of Salisbury has two remarkable manufactures carried on in it,\nand which employ the poor of great part of the country round--namely,\nfine flannels, and long-cloths for the Turkey trade, called Salisbury\nwhites.  The people of Salisbury are gay and rich, and have a flourishing\ntrade; and there is a great deal of good manners and good company among\nthem--I mean, among the citizens, besides what is found among the\ngentlemen; for there are many good families in Salisbury besides the\ncitizens.\nThis society has a great addition from the Close--that is to say, the\ncircle of ground walled in adjacent to the cathedral; in which the\nfamilies of the prebendaries and commons, and others of the clergy\nbelonging to the cathedral, have their houses, as is usual in all cities,\nwhere there are cathedral churches.  These are so considerable here, and\nthe place so large, that it is (as it is called in general) like another\ncity.\nThe cathedral is famous for the height of its spire, which is without\nexception the highest and the handsomest in England, being from the\nground 410 feet, and yet the walls so exceeding thin that at the upper\npart of the spire, upon a view made by the late Sir Christopher Wren, the\nwall was found to be less than five inches thick; upon which a\nconsultation was had whether the spire, or at least the upper part of it,\nshould be taken down, it being supposed to have received some damage by\nthe great storm in the year 1703; but it was resolved in the negative,\nand Sir Christopher ordered it to be so strengthened with bands of iron\nplates as has effectually secured it; and I have heard some of the best\narchitects say it is stronger now than when it was first built.\nThey tell us here long stories of the great art used in laying the first\nfoundation of this church, the ground being marshy and wet, occasioned by\nthe channels of the rivers; that it was laid upon piles, according to\nsome, and upon woolpacks, according to others.  But this is not supposed\nby those who know that the whole country is one rock of chalk, even from\nthe tops of the highest hills to the bottom of the deepest rivers.\nThey tell us this church was forty years a-building, and cost an immense\nsum of money; but it must be acknowledged that the inside of the work is\nnot answerable in the decoration of things to the workmanship without.\nThe painting in the choir is mean, and more like the ordinary method of\ncommon drawing-room or tavern painting than that of a church; the carving\nis good, but very little of it; and it is rather a fine church than\nfinely set off.\nThe ordinary boast of this building (that there were as many gates as\nmonths, as many windows as days, as many marble pillars as hours in the\nyear) is now no recommendation at all.  However, the mention of it must\nbe preserved:--\n   \"As many days as in one year there be,\n   So many windows in one church we see;\n   As many marble pillars there appear\n   As there are hours throughout the fleeting year;\n   As many gates as moons one year do view:\n   Strange tale to tell, yet not more strange than true.\"\nThere are, however, some very fine monuments in this church; particularly\none belonging to the noble family of Seymours, since Dukes of Somerset\n(and ancestors of the present flourishing family), which on a most\nmelancholy occasion has been now lately opened again to receive the body\nof the late Duchess of Somerset, the happy consort for almost forty years\nof his Grace the present Duke, and only daughter and heiress of the\nancient and noble family of Percy, Earls of Northumberland, whose great\nestate she brought into the family of Somerset, who now enjoy it.\nWith her was buried at the same time her Grace's daughter the Marchioness\nof Caermarthen (being married to the Marquis of Caermarthen, son and heir-\napparent to the Lord of Leeds), who died for grief at the loss of the\nduchess her mother, and was buried with her; also her second son, the\nDuke Percy Somerset, who died a few months before, and had been buried in\nthe Abbey church of Westminster, but was ordered to be removed and laid\nhere with the ancestors of his house.  And I hear his Grace designs to\nhave a yet more magnificent monument erected in this cathedral for them,\njust by the other which is there already.\nHow the Dukes of Somerset came to quit this church for their\nburying-place, and be laid in Westminster Abbey, that I know not; but it\nis certain that the present Duke has chosen to have his family laid here\nwith their ancestors, and to that end has caused the corpse of his son,\nthe Lord Percy, as above, and one of his daughters, who had been buried\nin the Abbey, to be removed and brought down to this vault, which lies in\nthat they call the Virgin Mary's Chapel, behind the altar.  There is, as\nabove, a noble monument for a late Duke and Duchess of Somerset in the\nplace already, with their portraits at full-length, their heads lying\nupon cushions, the whole perfectly well wrought in fine polished Italian\nmarble, and their sons kneeling by them.  Those I suppose to be the\nfather of the great Duke of Somerset, uncle to King Edward IV.; but after\nthis the family lay in Westminster Abbey, where there is also a fine\nmonument for that very duke who was beheaded by Edward VI., and who was\nthe great patron of the Reformation.\nAmong other monuments of noble men in this cathedral they show you one\nthat is very extraordinary, and to which there hangs a tale.  There was\nin the reign of Philip and Mary a very unhappy murder committed by the\nthen Lord Sturton, or Stourton, a family since extinct, but well known\ntill within a few years in that country.\nThis Lord Stourton being guilty of the said murder, which also was\naggravated with very bad circumstances, could not obtain the usual grace\nof the Crown (viz., to be beheaded), but Queen Mary positively ordered\nthat, like a common malefactor, he should die at the gallows.  After he\nwas hanged, his friends desiring to have him buried at Salisbury, the\nbishop would not consent that he should be buried in the cathedral\nunless, as a farther mark of infamy, his friends would submit to this\ncondition--viz., that the silken halter in which he was hanged should be\nhanged up over his grave in the church as a monument of his crime; which\nwas accordingly done, and there it is to be seen to this day.\nThe putting this halter up here was not so wonderful to me as it was that\nthe posterity of that lord, who remained in good rank some time after,\nshould never prevail to have that mark of infamy taken off from the\nmemory of their ancestor.\nThere are several other monuments in this cathedral, as particularly of\ntwo noblemen of ancient families in Scotland--one of the name of Hay, and\none of the name of Gordon; but they give us nothing of their history, so\nthat we must be content to say there they lie, and that is all.\nThe cloister, and the chapter-house adjoining to the church, are the\nfinest here of any I have seen in England; the latter is octagon, or\neight-square, and is 150 feet in its circumference; the roof bearing all\nupon one small marble pillar in the centre, which you may shake with your\nhand; and it is hardly to be imagined it can be any great support to the\nroof, which makes it the more curious (it is not indeed to be matched, I\nbelieve, in Europe).\nFrom hence directing my course to the seaside in pursuit of my first\ndesign--viz., of viewing the whole coast of England--I left the great\nroad and went down the east side of the river towards New Forest and\nLymington; and here I saw the ancient house and seat of Clarendon, the\nmansion of the ancient family of Hide, ancestors of the great Earl of\nClarendon, and from whence his lordship was honoured with that title, or\nthe house erected into an honour in favour of his family.\nBut this being a large county, and full of memorable branches of\nantiquity and modern curiosity, I cannot quit my observations so soon.\nBut being happily fixed, by the favour of a particular friend, at so\nbeautiful a spot of ground as this of Clarendon Park, I made several\nlittle excursions from hence to view the northern parts of this county--a\ncounty so fruitful of wonders that, though I do not make antiquity my\nchief search, yet I must not pass it over entirely, where so much of it,\nand so well worth observation, is to be found, which would look as if I\neither understood not the value of the study, or expected my readers\nshould be satisfied with a total omission of it.\nI have mentioned that this county is generally a vast continued body of\nhigh chalky hills, whose tops spread themselves into fruitful and\npleasant downs and plains, upon which great flocks of sheep are fed, &c.\nBut the reader is desired to observe these hills and plains are most\nbeautifully intersected and cut through by the course of divers pleasant\nand profitable rivers; in the course and near the banks of which there\nalways is a chain of fruitful meadows and rich pastures, and those\ninterspersed with innumerable pleasant towns, villages, and houses, and\namong them many of considerable magnitude.  So that, while you view the\ndowns, and think the country wild and uninhabited, yet when you come to\ndescend into these vales you are surprised with the most pleasant and\nfertile country in England.\nThere are no less than four of these rivers, which meet all together at\nor near the city of Salisbury; especially the waters of three of them run\nthrough the streets of the city--the Nadder and the Willy and the\nAvon--and the course of these three lead us through the whole mountainous\npart of the county.  The two first join their waters at Wilton, the\nshiretown, though a place of no great notice now; and these are the\nwaters which run through the canal and the gardens of Wilton House, the\nseat of that ornament of nobility and learning, the Earl of Pembroke.\nOne cannot be said to have seen anything that a man of curiosity would\nthink worth seeing in this county, and not have been at Wilton House; but\nnot the beautiful building, not the ancient trophy of a great family, not\nthe noble situation, not all the pleasures of the gardens, parks,\nfountains, hare-warren, or of whatever is rare either in art or nature,\nare equal to that yet more glorious sight of a noble princely palace\nconstantly filled with its noble and proper inhabitants.  The lord and\nproprietor, who is indeed a true patriarchal monarch, reigns here with an\nauthority agreeable to all his subjects (family); and his reign is made\nagreeable, by his first practising the most exquisite government of\nhimself, and then guiding all under him by the rules of honour and\nvirtue, being also himself perfectly master of all the needful arts of\nfamily government--I mean, needful to make that government both easy and\npleasant to those who are under it, and who therefore willingly, and by\nchoice, conform to it.\nHere an exalted genius is the instructor, a glorious example the guide,\nand a gentle well-directed hand the governor and law-giver to the whole;\nand the family, like a well-governed city, appears happy, flourishing,\nand regular, groaning under no grievance, pleased with what they enjoy,\nand enjoying everything which they ought to be pleased with.\nNor is the blessing of this noble resident extended to the family only,\nbut even to all the country round, who in their degree feel the effects\nof the general beneficence, and where the neighbourhood (however poor)\nreceive all the good they can expect, and are sure to have no injury or\noppression.\nThe canal before the house lies parallel with the road, and receives into\nit the whole river Willy, or at least is able to do so; it may, indeed,\nbe said that the river is made into a canal.  When we come into the\ncourtyards before the house there are several pieces of antiquity to\nentertain the curious, as particularly a noble column of porphyry, with a\nmarble statue of Venus on the top of it.  In Italy, and especially at\nRome and Naples, we see a great variety of fine columns, and some of them\nof excellent workmanship and antiquity; and at some of the courts of the\nprinces of Italy the like is seen, as especially at the court of\nFlorence; but in England I do not remember to have seen anything like\nthis, which, as they told me, is two-and-thirty feet high, and of\nexcellent workmanship, and that it came last from Candia, but formerly\nfrom Alexandria.  What may belong to the history of it any further, I\nsuppose is not known--at least, they could tell me no more of it who\nshowed it me.\nOn the left of the court was formerly a large grotto and curious water-\nworks; and in a house, or shed, or part of the building, which opened\nwith two folding-doors, like a coach-house, a large equestrian statue of\none of the ancestors of the family in complete armour, as also another of\na Roman Emperor in brass.  But the last time I had the curiosity to see\nthis house, I missed that part; so that I supposed they were removed.\nAs the present Earl of Pembroke, the lord of this fine palace, is a\nnobleman of great personal merit many other ways, so he is a man of\nlearning and reading beyond most men of his lordship's high rank in this\nnation, if not in the world; and as his reading has made him a master of\nantiquity, and judge of such pieces of antiquity as he has had\nopportunity to meet with in his own travels and otherwise in the world,\nso it has given him a love of the study, and made him a collector of\nvaluable things, as well in painting as in sculpture, and other\nexcellences of art, as also of nature; insomuch that Wilton House is now\na mere museum or a chamber of rarities, and we meet with several things\nthere which are to be found nowhere else in the world.\nAs his lordship is a great collector of fine paintings, so I know no\nnobleman's house in England so prepared, as if built on purpose, to\nreceive them; the largest and the finest pieces that can be imagined\nextant in the world might have found a place here capable to receive\nthem.  I say, they \"might have found,\" as if they could not now, which is\nin part true; for at present the whole house is so completely filled that\nI see no room for any new piece to crowd in without displacing some other\nfine piece that hung there before.  As for the value of the piece that\nmight so offer to succeed the displaced, that the great judge of the\nwhole collection, the earl himself, must determine; and as his judgment\nis perfectly good, the best picture would be sure to possess the place.\nIn a word, here is without doubt the best, if not the greatest,\ncollection of rarities and paintings that are to be seen together in any\none nobleman's or gentleman's house in England.  The piece of our Saviour\nwashing His disciples' feet, which they show you in one of the first\nrooms you go into, must be spoken of by everybody that has any knowledge\nof painting, and is an admirable piece indeed.\nYou ascend the great staircase at the upper end of the hall, which is\nvery large; at the foot of the staircase you have a Bacchus as large as\nlife, done in fine Peloponnesian marble, carrying a young Bacchus on his\narm, the young one eating grapes, and letting you see by his countenance\nthat he is pleased with the taste of them.  Nothing can be done finer, or\nmore lively represent the thing intended--namely, the gust of the\nappetite, which if it be not a passion, it is an affection which is as\nmuch seen in the countenance, perhaps more than any other.  One ought to\nstop every two steps of this staircase, as we go up, to contemplate the\nvast variety of pictures that cover the walls, and of some of the best\nmasters in Europe; and yet this is but an introduction to what is beyond\nthem.\nWhen you are entered the apartments, such variety seizes you every way\nthat you scarce know to which hand to turn yourself.  First on one side\nyou see several rooms filled with paintings as before, all so curious,\nand the variety such, that it is with reluctance that you can turn from\nthem; while looking another way you are called off by a vast collection\nof busts and pieces of the greatest antiquity of the kind, both Greek and\nRomans; among these there is one of the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius in\nbasso-relievo.  I never saw anything like what appears here, except in\nthe chamber of rarities at Munich in Bavaria.\nPassing these, you come into several large rooms, as if contrived for the\nreception of the beautiful guests that take them up; one of these is near\nseventy feet long, and the ceiling twenty-six feet high, with another\nadjoining of the same height and breadth, but not so long.  Those\ntogether might be called the Great Gallery of Wilton, and might vie for\npaintings with the Gallery of Luxembourg, in the Faubourg of Paris.\nThese two rooms are filled with the family pieces of the house of\nHerbert, most of them by Lilly or Vandyke; and one in particular outdoes\nall that I ever met with, either at home or abroad; it is done, as was\nthe mode of painting at that time, after the manner of a family piece of\nKing Charles I., with his queen and children, which before the burning of\nWhitehall I remember to hang at the east end of the Long Gallery in the\npalace.\nThis piece fills the farther end of the great room which I just now\nmentioned; it contains the Earl of Montgomery, ancestor of the house of\nHerbert (not then Earls of Pembroke) and his lady, sitting, and as big as\nlife; there are about them their own five sons and one daughter, and\ntheir daughter-in-law, who was daughter of the Duke of Buckingham,\nmarried to the elder Lord Herbert, their eldest son.  It is enough to say\nof this piece, it is worth the labour of any lover of art to go five\nhundred miles to see it; and I am informed several gentlemen of quality\nhave come from France almost on purpose.  It would be endless to describe\nthe whole set of the family pictures which take up this room, unless we\nwould enter into the roof-tree of the family, and set down a genealogical\nline of the whole house.\nAfter we have seen this fine range of beauties--for such, indeed, they\nare--far from being at an end of your surprise, you have three or four\nrooms still upon the same floor, filled with wonders as before.  Nothing\ncan be finer than the pictures themselves, nothing more surprising than\nthe number of them.  At length you descend the back stairs, which are in\nthemselves large, though not like the other.  However, not a\nhand's-breadth is left to crowd a picture in of the smallest size; and\neven the upper rooms, which might be called garrets, are not naked, but\nhave some very good pieces in them.\nUpon the whole, the genius of the noble collector may be seen in this\nglorious collection, than which, take them together, there is not a finer\nin any private hand in Europe, and in no hand at all in Britain, private\nor public.\nThe gardens are on the south of the house, and extend themselves beyond\nthe river, a branch of which runs through one part of them, and still\nsouth of the gardens in the great park, which, extending beyond the vale,\nmounts the hill opening at the last to the great down, which is properly\ncalled, by way of distinction, Salisbury Plain, and leads from the city\nof Salisbury to Shaftesbury.  Here also his lordship has a hare-warren,\nas it is called, though improperly.  It has, indeed, been a sanctuary for\nthe hares for many years; but the gentlemen complain that it mars their\ngame, for that as soon as they put up a hare for their sport, if it be\nanywhere within two or three miles, away she runs for the warren, and\nthere is an end of their pursuit; on the other hand, it makes all the\ncountrymen turn poachers, and destroy the hares by what means they can.\nBut this is a smaller matter, and of no great import one way or other.\nFrom this pleasant and agreeable day's work I returned to Clarendon, and\nthe next day took another short tour to the hills to see that celebrated\npiece of antiquity, the wonderful Stonehenge, being six miles from\nSalisbury, north, and upon the side of the River Avon, near the town of\nAmesbury.  It is needless that I should enter here into any part of the\ndispute about which our learned antiquaries have so puzzled themselves\nthat several books (and one of them in folio) have been published about\nit; some alleging it to be a heathen or pagan temple and altar, or place\nof sacrifice, as Mr. Jones; others a monument or trophy of victory;\nothers a monument for the dead, as Mr. Aubrey, and the like.  Again, some\nwill have it be British, some Danish, some Saxon, some Roman, and some,\nbefore them all, Phoenician.\nI shall suppose it, as the majority of all writers do, to be a monument\nfor the dead, and the rather because men's bones have been frequently dug\nup in the ground near them.  The common opinion that no man could ever\ncount them, that a baker carried a basket of bread and laid a loaf upon\nevery stone, and yet never could make out the same number twice, this I\ntake as a mere country fiction, and a ridiculous one too.  The reason why\nthey cannot easily be told is that many of them lie half or part buried\nin the ground; and a piece here and a piece there only appearing above\nthe grass, it cannot be known easily which belong to one stone and which\nto another, or which are separate stones, and which are joined\nunderground to one another; otherwise, as to those which appear, they are\neasy to be told, and I have seen them told four times after one another,\nbeginning every time at a different place, and every time they amounted\nto seventy-two in all; but then this was counting every piece of a stone\nof bulk which appeared above the surface of the earth, and was not\nevidently part of and adjoining to another, to be a distinct and separate\nbody or stone by itself.\nThe form of this monument is not only described but delineated in most\nauthors, and, indeed, it is hard to know the first but by the last.  The\nfigure was at first circular, and there were at least four rows or\ncircles within one another.  The main stones were placed upright, and\nthey were joined on the top by cross-stones, laid from one to another,\nand fastened with vast mortises and tenons.  Length of time has so\ndecayed them that not only most of the cross-stones which lay on the top\nare fallen down, but many of the upright also, notwithstanding the weight\nof them is so prodigious great.  How they came thither, or from whence\n(no stones of that kind being now to be found in that part of England\nnear it) is still the mystery, for they are of such immense bulk that no\nengines or carriages which we have in use in this age could stir them.\nDoubtless they had some method in former days in foreign countries, as\nwell as here, to move heavier weights than we find practicable now.  How\nelse did Solomon's workmen build the battlement or additional wall to\nsupport the precipice of Mount Moriah, on which the Temple was built,\nwhich was all built of stones of Parian marble, each stone being forty\ncubits long and fourteen cubits broad, and eight cubits high or thick,\nwhich, reckoning each cubit at two feet and a half of our measure (as the\nlearned agree to do), was one hundred feet long, thirty-five feet broad,\nand twenty feet thick?\nThese stones at Stonehenge, as Mr. Camden describes them, and in which\nothers agree, were very large, though not so large--the upright stones\ntwenty-four feet high, seven feet broad, sixteen feet round, and weigh\ntwelve tons each; and the cross-stones on the top, which he calls\ncoronets, were six or seven tons.  But this does not seem equal; for if\nthe cross-stones weighed six or seven tons, the others, as they appear\nnow, were at least five or six times as big, and must weigh in\nproportion; and therefore I must think their judgment much nearer the\ncase who judge the upright stones at sixteen tons or thereabouts\n(supposing them to stand a great way into the earth, as it is not doubted\nbut they do), and the coronets or cross-stones at about two tons, which\nis very large too, and as much as their bulk can be thought to allow.\nUpon the whole, we must take them as our ancestors have done--namely, for\nan erection or building so ancient that no history has handed down to us\nthe original.  As we find it, then, uncertain, we must leave it so.  It\nis indeed a reverend piece of antiquity, and it is a great loss that the\ntrue history of it is not known.  But since it is not, I think the making\nso many conjectures at the reality, when they know lots can but guess at\nit, and, above all, the insisting so long and warmly on their private\nopinions, is but amusing themselves and us with a doubt, which perhaps\nlies the deeper for their search into it.\nThe downs and plains in this part of England being so open, and the\nsurface so little subject to alteration, there are more remains of\nantiquity to be seen upon them than in other places.  For example, I\nthink they tell us there are three-and-fifty ancient encampments or\nfortifications to be seen in this one county--some whereof are exceeding\nplain to be seen; some of one form, some of another; some of one nation,\nsome of another--British, Danish, Saxon, Roman--as at Ebb Down, Burywood,\nOldburgh Hill, Cummerford, Roundway Down, St. Ann's Hill, Bratton Castle,\nClay Hill, Stournton Park, Whitecole Hill, Battlebury, Scrathbury,\nTanesbury, Frippsbury, Southbury Hill, Amesbury, Great Bodwin, Easterley,\nMerdon, Aubery, Martenscil Hill, Barbury Castle, and many more.\nAlso the barrows, as we all agree to call them, are very many in number\nin this county, and very obvious, having suffered very little decay.\nThese are large hillocks of earth cast up, as the ancients agree, by the\nsoldiers over the bodies of their dead comrades slain in battle; several\nhundreds of these are to be seen, especially in the north part of this\ncounty, about Marlborough and the downs, from thence to St. Ann's Hill,\nand even every way the downs are full of them.\nI have done with matters of antiquity for this county, unless you will\nadmit me to mention the famous Parliament in the reign of Henry II. held\nat Clarendon, where I am now writing, and another intended to be held\nthere in Richard II.'s time, but prevented by the barons, being then up\nin arms against the king.\nNear this place, at Farlo, was the birthplace of the late Sir Stephen\nFox, and where the town, sharing in his good fortune, shows several marks\nof his bounty, as particularly the building a new church from the\nfoundation, and getting an Act of Parliament passed for making it\nparochial, it being but a chapel-of-ease before to an adjoining parish.\nAlso Sir Stephen built and endowed an almshouse here for six poor women,\nwith a master and a free school.  The master is to be a clergyman, and to\nofficiate in the church--that is to say, is to have the living, which,\nincluding the school, is very sufficient.\nI am now to pursue my first design, and shall take the west part of\nWiltshire in my return, where are several things still to be taken notice\nof, and some very well worth our stay.  In the meantime I went on to\nLangborough, a fine seat of my Lord Colerain, which is very well kept,\nthough the family, it seems, is not much in this country, having another\nestate and dwelling at Tottenham High Cross, near London.\nFrom hence in my way to the seaside I came to New Forest, of which I have\nsaid something already with relation to the great extent of ground which\nlies waste, and in which there is so great a quantity of large timber, as\nI have spoken of already.\nThis waste and wild part of the country was, as some record, laid open\nand waste for a forest and for game by that violent tyrant William the\nConqueror, and for which purpose he unpeopled the country, pulled down\nthe houses, and, which was worse, the churches of several parishes or\ntowns, and of abundance of villages, turning the poor people out of their\nhabitations and possessions, and laying all open for his deer.  The same\nhistories likewise record that two of his own blood and posterity, and\nparticularly his immediate successor William Rufus, lost their lives in\nthis forest--one, viz., the said William Rufus, being shot with an arrow\ndirected at a deer which the king and his company were hunting, and the\narrow, glancing on a tree, changed his course, and struck the king full\non the breast and killed him.  This they relate as a just judgment of God\non the cruel devastation made here by the Conqueror.   Be it so or not,\nas Heaven pleases; but that the king was so killed is certain, and they\nshow the tree on which the arrow glanced to this day.  In King Charles\nII.'s time it was ordered to be surrounded with a pale; but as great part\nof the paling is down with age, whether the tree be really so old or not\nis to me a great question, the action being near seven hundred years ago.\nI cannot omit to mention here a proposal made a few years ago to the late\nLord Treasurer Godolphin for re-peopling this forest, which for some\nreasons I can be more particular in than any man now left alive, because\nI had the honour to draw up the scheme and argue it before that noble\nlord and some others who were principally concerned at that time in\nbringing over--or, rather, providing for when they were come over--the\npoor inhabitants of the Palatinate, a thing in itself commendable, but,\nas it was managed, made scandalous to England and miserable to those poor\npeople.\nSome persons being ordered by that noble lord above mentioned to consider\nof measures how the said poor people should be provided for, and whether\nthey could be provided for or no without injury to the public, the answer\nwas grounded upon this maxim--that the number of inhabitants is the\nwealth and strength of a kingdom, provided those inhabitants were such as\nby honest industry applied themselves to live by their labour, to\nwhatsoever trades or employments they were brought up.  In the next\nplace, it was inquired what employments those poor people were brought up\nto.  It was answered there were husbandmen and artificers of all sorts,\nupon which the proposal was as follows.  New Forest, in Hampshire, was\nsingled out to be the place:--\nHere it was proposed to draw a great square line containing four thousand\nacres of land, marking out two large highways or roads through the\ncentre, crossing both ways, so that there should be a thousand acres in\neach division, exclusive of the land contained in the said cross-roads.\nThen it was proposed to send out twenty men and their families, who\nshould be recommended as honest industrious men, expert in, or at least\ncapable of being instructed in husbandry, curing and cultivating of land,\nbreeding and feeding cattle, and the like.  To each of these should be\nparcelled out, in equal distributions, two hundred acres of this land, so\nthat the whole four thousand acres should be fully distributed to the\nsaid twenty families, for which they should have no rent to pay, and be\nliable to no taxes but such as provided for their own sick or poor,\nrepairing their own roads, and the like.  This exemption from rent and\ntaxes to continue for twenty years, and then to pay each 50 pounds a year\nto the queen--that is to say, to the Crown.\nTo each of these families, whom I would now call farmers, it was proposed\nto advance 200 pounds in ready money as a stock to set them to work; to\nfurnish them with cattle, horses, cows, hogs, &c.; and to hire and pay\nlabourers to inclose, clear, and cure the land, which it would be\nsupposed the first year would not be so much to their advantage as\nafterwards, allowing them timber out of the forest to build themselves\nhouses and barns, sheds and offices, as they should have occasion; also\nfor carts, waggons, ploughs, harrows, and the like necessary things: care\nto be taken that the men and their families went to work forthwith\naccording to the design.\nThus twenty families would be immediately supplied and provided for, for\nthere would be no doubt but these families, with so much land given them\ngratis, and so much money to work with, would live very well; but what\nwould this do for the support of the rest, who were supposed to be, to\nevery twenty farmers, forty or fifty families of other people (some of\none trade, some of another), with women and children?  To this it was\nanswered that these twenty farmers would, by the consequence of their own\nsettlements, provide for and employ such a proportion of others of their\nown people that, by thus providing for twenty families in a place, the\nwhole number of Palatinates would have been provided for, had they been\ntwenty thousand more in number than they were, and that without being any\nburden upon or injury to the people of England; on the contrary, they\nwould have been an advantage and an addition of wealth and strength to\nthe nation, and to the country in particular where they should be thus\nseated.  For example:--\nAs soon as the land was marked out, the farmers put in possession of it,\nand the money given them, they should be obliged to go to work, in order\nto their settlement.  Suppose it, then, to be in the spring of the year,\nwhen such work was most proper.  First, all hands would be required to\nfence and part off the land, and clear it of the timber or bushes, or\nwhatever else was upon it which required to be removed.  The first thing,\ntherefore, which the farmer would do would be to single out from the rest\nof their number every one three servants--that is to say, two men and a\nmaid; less could not answer the preparations they would be obliged to\nmake, and yet work hard themselves also.  By the help of these they\nwould, with good management, soon get so much of their land cured, fenced-\noff, ploughed, and sowed as should yield them a sufficiency of corn and\nkitchen stuff the very first year, both for horse-meat, hog-meat, food\nfor the family, and some to carry to market, too, by which to bring in\nmoney to go farther on, as above.\nAt the first entrance they were to have the tents allowed them to live\nin, which they then had from the Tower; but as soon as leisure and\nconveniences admitted, every farmer was obliged to begin to build him a\nfarm-house, which he would do gradually, some and some, as he could spare\ntime from his other works, and money from his little stock.\nIn order to furnish himself with carts, waggons, ploughs, harrows, wheel-\nbarrows, hurdles, and all such necessary utensils of husbandry, there\nwould be an absolute necessity of wheelwrights or cartwrights, one at\nleast to each division.\nThus, by the way, there would be employed three servants to each farmer,\nthat makes sixty persons.\nFour families of wheelwrights, one to each division--which, suppose five\nin a family, makes twenty persons.  Suppose four head-carpenters, with\neach three men; and as at first all would be building together, they\nwould to every house building have at least one labourer.  Four families\nof carpenters, five to each family, and three servants, is thirty-two\npersons; one labourer to each house building is twenty persons more.\nThus here would be necessarily brought together in the very first of the\nwork one hundred and thirty-two persons, besides the head-farmers, who at\nfive also to each family are one hundred more; in all, two hundred and\nthirty-two.\nFor the necessary supply of these with provisions, clothes, household\nstuff, &c. (for all should be done among themselves), first, they must\nhave at least four butchers with their families (twenty persons), four\nshoemakers with their families and each shoemaker two journeymen (for\nevery trade would increase the number of customers to every trade).  This\nis twenty-eight persons more.\nThey would then require a hatmaker, a glover, at least two ropemakers,\nfour tailors, three weavers of woollen and three weavers of linen, two\nbasket-makers, two common brewers, ten or twelve shop-keepers to furnish\nchandlery and grocery wares, and as many for drapery and mercery, over\nand above what they could work.  This makes two-and-forty families more,\neach at five in a family, which, is two hundred and ten persons; all the\nlabouring part of these must have at least two servants (the brewers\nmore), which I cast up at forty more.\nAdd to these two ministers, one clerk, one sexton or grave-digger, with\ntheir families, two physicians, three apothecaries, two surgeons (less\nthere could not be, only that for the beginning it might be said the\nphysicians should be surgeons, and I take them so); this is forty-five\npersons, besides servants; so that, in short--to omit many tradesmen more\nwho would be wanted among them--there would necessarily and voluntarily\nfollow to these twenty families of farmers at least six hundred more of\ntheir own people.\nIt is no difficult thing to show that the ready money of 4,000 pounds\nwhich the Government was to advance to those twenty farmers would employ\nand pay, and consequently subsist, all these numerous dependants in the\nworks which must severally be done for them for the first year, after\nwhich the farmers would begin to receive their own money back again; for\nall these tradesmen must come to their own market to buy corn, flesh,\nmilk, butter, cheese, bacon, &c., which after the first year the farmers,\nhaving no rent to pay, would have to spare sufficiently, and so take back\ntheir own money with advantage.  I need not go on to mention how, by\nconsequence provisions increasing and money circulating, this town should\nincrease in a very little time.\nIt was proposed also that for the encouragement of all the handicraftsmen\nand labouring poor who, either as servants or as labourers for day-work,\nassisted the farmers or other tradesmen, they should have every man three\nacres of ground given them, with leave to build cottages upon the same,\nthe allotments to be upon the waste at the end of the cross-roads where\nthey entered the town.\nIn the centre of the square was laid out a circle of twelve acres of\nground, to be cast into streets for inhabitants to build on as their\nability would permit--all that would build to have ground gratis for\ntwenty years, timber out of the forest, and convenient yards, gardens,\nand orchards allotted to every house.\nIn the great streets near where they cross each other was to be built a\nhandsome market-house, with a town-hall for parish or corporation\nbusiness, doing justice and the like; also shambles; and in a handsome\npart of the ground mentioned to be laid out for streets, as near the\ncentre as might be, was to be ground laid out for the building a church,\nwhich every man should either contribute to the building of in money, or\ngive every tenth day of his time to assist in labouring at the building.\nI have omitted many tradesmen who would be wanted here, and would find a\ngood livelihood among their country-folks only to get accidental work as\nday-men or labourers (of which such a town would constantly employ many),\nas also poor women for assistance in families (such as midwives, nurses,\nAdjacent to the town was to be a certain quantity of common-land for the\nbenefit of the cottages, that the poor might have a few sheep or cows, as\ntheir circumstances required; and this to be appointed at the several\nends of the town.\nThere was a calculation made of what increase there would be, both of\nwealth and people, in twenty years in this town; what a vast consumption\nof provisions they would cause, more than the four thousand acres of land\ngiven them would produce, by which consumption and increase so much\nadvantage would accrue to the public stock, and so many subjects be added\nto the many thousands of Great Britain, who in the next age would be all\ntrue-born Englishmen, and forget both the language and nation from whence\nthey came.  And it was in order to this that two ministers were\nappointed, one of which should officiate in English and the other in High\nDutch, and withal to have them obliged by a law to teach all their\nchildren both to speak, read, and write the English language.\nUpon their increase they would also want barbers and glaziers, painters\nalso, and plumbers; a windmill or two, and the millers and their\nfamilies; a fulling-mill and a cloth-worker; as also a master clothier or\ntwo for making a manufacture among them for their own wear, and for\nemploying the women and children; a dyer or two for dyeing their\nmanufactures; and, which above all is not to be omitted, four families at\nleast of smiths, with every one two servants--considering that, besides\nall the family work which continually employs a smith, all the shoeing of\nhorses, all the ironwork of ploughs, carts, waggons, harrows, &c., must\nbe wrought by them.  There was no allowance made for inns and ale-houses,\nseeing it would be frequent that those who kept public-houses of any sort\nwould likewise have some other employment to carry on.\nThis was the scheme for settling the Palatinates, by which means twenty\nfamilies of farmers, handsomely set up and supported, would lay a\nfoundation, as I have said, for six or seven hundred of the rest of their\npeople; and as the land in New Forest is undoubtedly good, and capable of\nimprovement by such cultivation, so other wastes in England are to be\nfound as fruitful as that; and twenty such villages might have been\nerected, the poor strangers maintained, and the nation evidently be\nbettered by it.  As to the money to be advanced, which in the case of\ntwenty such settlements, at 1,000 pounds each, would be 80,000 pounds,\ntwo things were answered to it:--\n1.  That the annual rent to be received for all those lands after twenty\nyears would abundantly pay the public for the first disburses on the\nscheme above, that rent being then to amount to 40,000 pounds per annum.\n2.  More money than would have done this was expended, or rather thrown\naway, upon them here, to keep them in suspense, and afterwards starve\nthem; sending them a-begging all over the nation, and shipping them off\nto perish in other countries.  Where the mistake lay is none of my\nbusiness to inquire.\nI reserved this account for this place, because I passed in this journey\nover the very spot where the design was laid out--namely, near Lyndhurst,\nin the road from Rumsey to Lymington, whither I now directed my course.\nLymington is a little but populous seaport standing opposite to the Isle\nof Wight, in the narrow part of the strait which ships sometimes pass\nthrough in fair weather, called the Needles; and right against an ancient\ntown of that island called Yarmouth, and which, in distinction from the\ngreat town of Yarmouth in Norfolk, is called South Yarmouth.  This town\nof Lymington is chiefly noted for making fine salt, which is indeed\nexcellent good; and from whence all these south parts of England are\nsupplied, as well by water as by land carriage; and sometimes, though not\noften, they send salt to London, when, contrary winds having kept the\nNorthern fleets back, the price at London has been very high; but this is\nvery seldom and uncertain.  Lymington sends two members to Parliament,\nand this and her salt trade is all I can say to her; for though she is\nvery well situated as to the convenience of shipping I do not find they\nhave any foreign commerce, except it be what we call smuggling and\nroguing; which, I may say, is the reigning commerce of all this part of\nthe English coast, from the mouth of the Thames to the Land's End of\nCornwall.\nFrom hence there are but few towns on the sea-coast west, though there\nare several considerable rivers empty themselves into the sea; nor are\nthere any harbours or seaports of any note except Poole.  As for\nChristchurch, though it stands at the mouth of the Avon (which, as I have\nsaid, comes down from Salisbury, and brings with it all the waters of the\nsouth and east parts of Wiltshire, and receives also the Stour and\nPiddle, two Dorsetshire rivers which bring with them all the waters of\nthe north part of Dorsetshire), yet it is a very inconsiderable poor\nplace, scarce worth seeing, and less worth mentioning in this account,\nonly that it sends two members to Parliament, which many poor towns in\nthis part of England do, as well as that.\nFrom hence I stepped up into the country north-west, to see the ancient\ntown of Wimborne, or Wimborneminster; there I found nothing remarkable\nbut the church, which is indeed a very great one, ancient, and yet very\nwell built, with a very firm, strong, square tower, considerably high;\nbut was, without doubt, much finer, when on the top of it stood a most\nexquisite spire--finer and taller, if fame lies not, than that at\nSalisbury, and by its situation in a plainer, flatter country visible, no\nquestion, much farther; but this most beautiful ornament was blown down\nby a sudden tempest of wind, as they tell us, in the year 1622.\nThe church remains a venerable piece of antiquity, and has in it the\nremains of a place once much more in request than it is now, for here are\nthe monuments of several noble families, and in particular of one king,\nviz., King Etheldred, who was slain in battle by the Danes.  He was a\nprince famed for piety and religion, and, according to the zeal of these\ntimes, was esteemed as a martyr, because, venturing his life against the\nDanes, who were heathens, he died fighting for his religion and his\ncountry.  The inscription upon his grave is preserved, and has been\ncarefully repaired, so as to be easily read, and is as follows:--\n   \"In hoc loco quiescit Corpus S. Etheldredi, Regis West Saxonum,\n   Martyris, qui Anno Dom. DCCCLXXII., xxiii Aprilis, per Manos Danorum\n   Paganorum Occubuit.\"\nIn English thus:--\n   \"Here rests the Body of Holy Etheldred, King of the West Saxons, and\n   Martyr, who fell by the Hands of the Pagan Danes in the Year of our\n   Lord 872, the 23rd of April.\"\nHere are also the monuments of the great Marchioness of Exeter, mother of\nEdward Courtney, Earl of Devonshire, and last of the family of Courtneys\nwho enjoyed that honour; as also of John de Beaufort, Duke of Somerset,\nand his wife, grandmother of King Henry VII., by her daughter Margaret,\nCountess of Richmond.\nThis last lady I mention because she was foundress of a very fine free\nschool, which has since been enlarged and had a new benefactress in Queen\nElizabeth, who has enlarged the stipend and annexed it to the foundation.\nThe famous Cardinal Pole was Dean of this church before his exaltation.\nHaving said this of the church, I have said all that is worth naming of\nthe town; except that the inhabitants, who are many and poor, are chiefly\nmaintained by the manufacture of knitting stockings, which employs great\npart indeed of the county of Dorset, of which this is the first town\neastward.\nSouth of this town, over a sandy, wild, and barren country, we came to\nPoole, a considerable seaport, and indeed the most considerable in all\nthis part of England; for here I found some ships, some merchants, and\nsome trade; especially, here were a good number of ships fitted out every\nyear to the Newfoundland fishing, in which the Poole men were said to\nhave been particularly successful for many years past.\nThe town sits in the bottom of a great bay or inlet of the sea, which,\nentering at one narrow mouth, opens to a very great breadth within the\nentrance, and comes up to the very shore of this town; it runs also west\nup almost to the town of Wareham, a little below which it receives the\nrivers Frome and Piddle, the two principal rivers of the county.\nThis place is famous for the best and biggest oysters in all this part of\nEngland, which the people of Poole pretend to be famous for pickling; and\nthey are barrelled up here, and sent not only to London, but to the West\nIndies, and to Spain and Italy, and other parts.  It is observed more\npearls are found in the Poole oysters, and larger, than in any other\noysters about England.\nAs the entrance into this large bay is narrow, so it is made narrower by\nan island, called Branksey, which, lying the very mouth of the passage,\ndivides it into two, and where there is an old castle, called Branksey\nCastle, built to defend the entrance, and this strength was very great\nadvantage to the trade of this port in the time of the late war with\nFrance.\nWareham is a neat town and full of people, having a share of trade with\nPoole itself; it shows the ruins of a large town, and, it is apparent,\nhas had eight churches, of which they have three remaining.\nSouth of Wareham, and between the bay I have mentioned and the sea, lies\na large tract of land which, being surrounded by the sea except on one\nside, is called an island, though it is really what should be called a\npeninsula.  This tract of land is better inhabited than the sea-coast of\nthis west end of Dorsetshire generally is, and the manufacture of\nstockings is carried on there also; it is called the Isle of Purbeck, and\nhas in the middle of it a large market-town, called Corfe, and from the\nfamous castle there the whole town is now called Corfe Castle; it is a\ncorporation, sending members to Parliament.\nThis part of the country is eminent for vast quarries of stone, which is\ncut out flat, and used in London in great quantities for paving\ncourtyards, alleys, avenues to houses, kitchens, footways on the sides of\nthe High Streets, and the like; and is very profitable to the place, as\nalso in the number of shipping employed in bringing it to London.  There\nare also several rocks of very good marble, only that the veins in the\nstone are not black and white, as the Italian, but grey, red, and other\ncolours.\nFrom hence to Weymouth, which is 22 miles, we rode in view of the sea;\nthe country is open, and in some respects pleasant, but not like the\nnorthern parts of the county, which are all fine carpet-ground, soft as\nvelvet, and the herbage sweet as garden herbs, which makes their sheep be\nthe best in England, if not in the world, and their wool fine to an\nextreme.\nI cannot omit here a small adventure which was very surprising to me on\nthis journey; passing this plain country, we came to an open piece of\nground where a neighbouring gentleman had at a great expense laid out a\nproper piece of land for a decoy, or duck-coy, as some call it.  The\nworks were but newly done, the planting young, the ponds very large and\nwell made; but the proper places for shelter of the fowl not covered, the\ntrees not being grown, and men were still at work improving and enlarging\nand planting on the adjoining heath or common.  Near the decoy-keeper's\nhouse were some places where young decoy ducks were hatched, or otherwise\nkept to fit them for their work.  To preserve them from vermin (polecats,\nkites, and such like), they had set traps, as is usual in such cases, and\na gibbet by it, where abundance of such creatures as were taken were\nhanged up for show.\nWhile the decoy-man was busy showing the new works, he was alarmed with a\ngreat cry about this house for \"Help! help!\" and away he ran like the\nwind, guessing, as we supposed, that something was catched in the trap.\nIt was a good big boy, about thirteen or fourteen years old, that cried\nout, for coming to the place he found a great fowl caught by the leg in\nthe trap, which yet was so strong and so outrageous that the boy going\ntoo near him, he flew at him and frighted him, bit him, and beat him with\nhis wings, for he was too strong for the boy; as the master ran from the\ndecoy, so another manservant ran from the house, and finding a strange\ncreature fast in the trap, not knowing what it was, laid at him with a\ngreat stick.  The creature fought him a good while, but at length he\nstruck him an unlucky blow which quieted him; after this we all came up\nto see what the matter, and found a monstrous eagle caught by the leg in\nthe trap, and killed by the fellow's cudgel, as above.\nWhen the master came to know what it was, and that his man had killed it,\nhe was ready to kill the fellow for his pains, for it was a noble\ncreature indeed, and would have been worth a great deal to the man to\nhave it shown about the country, or to have sold to any gentleman curious\nin such things; but the eagle was dead, and there we left it.  It is\nprobable this eagle had flown over the sea from France, either there or\nat the Isle of Wight, where the channel is not so wide; for we do not\nfind that any eagles are known to breed in those parts of Britain.\nFrom hence we turned up to Dorchester, the county town, though not the\nlargest town in the county.  Dorchester is indeed a pleasant agreeable\ntown to live in, and where I thought the people seemed less divided into\nfactions and parties than in other places; for though here are divisions,\nand the people are not all of one mind, either as to religion or\npolitics, yet they did not seem to separate with so much animosity as in\nother places.  Here I saw the Church of England clergyman, and the\nDissenting minister or preacher drinking tea together, and conversing\nwith civility and good neighbourhood, like Catholic Christians and men of\na Catholic and extensive charity.  The town is populous, though not\nlarge; the streets broad, but the buildings old and low.  However, there\nis good company, and a good deal of it; and a man that coveted a retreat\nin this world might as agreeably spend his time and as well in Dorchester\nas in any town I know in England.\nThe downs round this town are exceeding pleasant, and come up on, every\nside, even to the very streets' end; and here it was that they told me\nthat there were six hundred thousand sheep fed on the downs within six\nmiles of the town--that is, six miles every way, which is twelve miles in\ndiameter, and thirty-six miles in circumference.  This, I say, I was\ntold--I do not affirm it to be true; but when I viewed the country round,\nI confess I could not but incline to believe it.\nIt is observable of these sheep that they are exceeding fruitful, the\newes generally bringing two lambs, and they are for that reason bought by\nall the farmers through the east part of England, who come to Burford\nFair in this country to buy them, and carry them into Kent and Surrey\neastward, and into Buckinghamshire and Bedfordshire and Oxfordshire\nnorth; even our Banstead Downs in Surrey, so famed for good mutton, is\nsupplied from this place.  The grass or herbage of these downs is full of\nthe sweetest and the most aromatic plants, such as nourish the sheep to a\nstrange degree; and the sheep's dung, again, nourishes that herbage to a\nstrange degree; so that the valleys are rendered extremely fruitful by\nthe washing of the water in hasty showers from off these hills.\nAn eminent instance of this is seen at Amesbury, in Wiltshire, the next\ncounty to this; for it is the same thing in proportion over this whole\ncounty.  I was told that at this town there was a meadow on the bank of\nthe River Avon, which runs thence to Salisbury, which was let for 12\npounds a year per acre for the grass only.  This I inquired particularly\nafter at the place, and was assured by the inhabitants, as one man, that\nthe fact was true, and was showed the meadows.  The grass which grew on\nthem was such as grew to the length of ten or twelve feet, rising up to a\ngood height and then taking root again, and was of so rich a nature as to\nanswer very well such an extravagant rent.\nThe reason they gave for this was the extraordinary richness of the soil,\nmade so, as above, by the falling or washing of the rains from the hills\nadjacent, by which, though no other land thereabouts had such a kind of\ngrass, yet all other meadows and low grounds of the valley were extremely\nrich in proportion.\nThere are abundance of good families, and of very ancient lines in the\nneighbourhood of this town of Dorchester, as the Napiers, the Courtneys,\nStrangeways, Seymours, Banks, Tregonells, Sydenhams, and many others,\nsome of which have very great estates in the county, and in particular\nColonel Strangeways, Napier, and Courtney.  The first of these is master\nof the famous swannery or nursery of swans, the like of which, I believe,\nis not in Europe.  I wonder any man should pretend to travel over this\ncountry, and pass by it, too, and then write his account and take no\nnotice of it.\nFrom Dorchester it is six miles to the seaside south, and the ocean in\nview almost all the way.  The first town you come to is Weymouth, or\nWeymouth and Melcombe, two towns lying at the mouth of a little rivulet\nwhich they call the Wey, but scarce claims the name of a river.  However,\nthe entrance makes a very good though small harbour, and they are joined\nby a wooden bridge; so that nothing but the harbour parts them; yet they\nare separate corporations, and choose each of them two members of\nParliament, just as London and Southwark.\nWeymouth is a sweet, clean, agreeable town, considering its low\nsituation, and close to the sea; it is well built, and has a great many\ngood substantial merchants in it who drive a considerable trade, and have\na good number of ships belonging to the town.  They carry on now, in time\nof peace, a trade with France; but, besides this, they trade also to\nPortugal, Spain, Newfoundland, and Virginia; and they have a large\ncorrespondence also up in the country for the consumption of their\nreturns; especially the wine trade and the Newfoundland trade are\nconsiderable here.\nWithout the harbour is an old castle, called Sandfoot Castle; and over\nagainst them, where there is a good road for ships to put in on occasions\nof bad weather, is Portland Castle, and the road is called Portland Road.\nWhile I was here once, there came a merchant-ship into that road called\nPortland Road under a very hard storm of wind; she was homeward bound\nfrom Oporto for London, laden with wines; and as she came in she made\nsignals of distress to the town, firing guns for help, and the like, as\nis usual in such cases; it was in the dark of the night that the ship\ncame in, and, by the help of her own pilot, found her way into the road,\nwhere she came to an anchor, but, as I say, fired guns for help.\nThe venturous Weymouth men went off, even before it was light, with two\nboats to see who she was, and what condition she was in; and found she\nwas come to an anchor, and had struck her topmasts; but that she had been\nin bad weather, had lost an anchor and cable before, and had but one\ncable to trust to, which did hold her, but was weak; and as the storm\ncontinued to blow, they expected every hour to go on shore and split to\npieces.\nUpon this the Weymouth boats came back with such diligence that in less\nthan three hours they were on board them again with an anchor and cable,\nwhich they immediately bent in its place, and let go to assist the other,\nand thereby secured the ship.  It is true that they took a good price of\nthe master for the help they gave him; for they made him draw a bill on\nhis owners at London for 12 pounds for the use of the anchor, cable, and\nboat, besides some gratuities to the men.  But they saved the ship and\ncargo by it, and in three or four days the weather was calm, and he\nproceeded on his voyage, returning the anchor and cable again; so that,\nupon the whole, it was not so extravagant as at first I thought it to be.\nThe Isle of Portland, on which the castle I mentioned stands, lies right\nagainst this Port of Weymouth.  Hence it is that our best and whitest\nfreestone comes, with which the Cathedral of St. Paul's, the Monument,\nand all the public edifices in the City of London are chiefly built; and\nit is wonderful, and well worth the observation of a traveller, to see\nthe quarries in the rocks from whence they are cut out, what stones, and\nof what prodigious a size are cut out there.\nThe island is indeed little more than one continued rock of freestone,\nand the height of the land is such that from this island they see in\nclear weather above half over the Channel to France, though the Channel\nhere is very broad.  The sea off of this island, and especially to the\nwest of it, is counted the most dangerous part of the British Channel.\nDue south, there is almost a continued disturbance in the waters, by\nreason of what they call two tides meeting, which I take to be no more\nthan the sets of the currents from the French coast and from the English\nshore meeting: this they call Portland Race; and several ships, not aware\nof these currents, have been embayed to the west of Portland, and been\ndriven on shore on the beach (of which I shall speak presently), and\nthere lost.\nTo prevent this danger, and guide the mariner in these distresses, they\nhave within these few months set up two lighthouses on the two points of\nthat island; and they had not been many months set up, with the\ndirections given to the public for their bearings, but we found three\noutward-bound East India ships which were in distress in the night, in a\nhard extreme gale of wind, were so directed by those lights that they\navoided going on shore by it, which, if the lights had not been there,\nwould inevitably happened to their destruction.\nThis island, though seemingly miserable, and thinly inhabited, yet the\ninhabitants being almost all stone-cutters, we found there were no very\npoor people among them, and when they collected money for the re-building\nSt. Paul's, they got more in this island than in the great town of\nDorchester, as we were told.\nThough Portland stands a league off from the mainland of Britain, yet it\nis almost joined by a prodigious riff of beach--that is to say, of small\nstones cast up by the sea--which runs from the island so near the shore\nof England that they ferry over with a boat and a rope, the water not\nbeing above half a stone's-throw over; and the said riff of beach ending,\nas it were, at that inlet of water, turns away west, and runs parallel\nwith the shore quite to Abbotsbury, which is a town about seven miles\nbeyond Weymouth.\nI name this for two reasons: first, to explain again what I said before\nof ships being embayed and lost here.  This is when ships coming from the\nwestward omit to keep a good offing, or are taken short by contrary\nwinds, and cannot weather the high land of Portland, but are driven\nbetween Portland and the mainland.  If they can come to an anchor, and\nride it out, well and good; and if not, they run on shore on that vast\nbeach and are lost without remedy.\nOn the inside of this beach, and between it and the land, there is, as I\nhave said, an inlet of water which they ferry over, as above, to pass and\nre-pass to and from Portland: this inlet opens at about two miles west,\nand grows very broad, and makes a kind of lake within the land of a mile\nand a half broad, and near three miles in length, the breadth unequal.  At\nthe farthest end west of this water is a large duck-coy, and the verge of\nthe water well grown with wood, and proper groves of trees for cover for\nthe fowl: in the open lake, or broad part, is a continual assembly of\nswans: here they live, feed, and breed, and the number of them is such\nthat, I believe, I did not see so few as 7,000 or 8,000.  Here they are\nprotected, and here they breed in abundance.  We saw several of them upon\nthe wing, very high in the air, whence we supposed that they flew over\nthe riff of beach, which parts the lake from the sea, to feed on the\nshores as they thought fit, and so came home again at their leisure.\nFrom this duck-coy west, the lake narrows, and at last almost closes,\ntill the beach joins the shore; and so Portland may be said, not to be an\nisland, but part of the continent.  And now we came to Abbotsbury, a town\nanciently famous for a great monastery, and now eminent for nothing but\nits ruins.\nFrom hence we went on to Bridport, a pretty large corporation town on the\nsea-shore, though without a harbour.  Here we saw boats all the way on\nthe shore, fishing for mackerel, which they take in the easiest manner\nimaginable; for they fix one end of the net to a pole set deep into the\nsand, then, the net being in a boat, they row right out into the water\nsome length, then turn and row parallel with the shore, veering out the\nnet all the while, till they have let go all the net, except the line at\nthe end, and then the boat rows on shore, when the men, hauling the net\nto the shore at both ends, bring to shore with it such fish as they\nsurrounded in the little way they rowed.  This, at that time, proved to\nbe an incredible number, insomuch that the men could hardly draw them on\nshore.  As soon as the boats had brought their fish on shore we observed\na guard or watch placed on the shore in several places, who, we found,\nhad their eye, not on the fishermen, but on the country people who came\ndown to the shore to buy their fish; and very sharp we found they were,\nand some that came with small carts were obliged to go back empty without\nany fish.  When we came to inquire into the particulars of this, we found\nthat these were officers placed on the shore by the justices and\nmagistrates of the towns about, who were ordered to prevent the country\nfarmers buying the mackerel to dung their land with them, which was\nthought to be dangerous as to infection.  In short, such was the plenty\nof fish that year that the mackerel, the finest and largest I ever saw,\nwere sold at the seaside a hundred for a penny.\nFrom Bridport (a town in which we see nothing remarkable) we came to\nLyme, the town particularly made famous by the landing of the Duke of\nMonmouth and his unfortunate troops in the time of King James II., of\nwhich I need say nothing, the history of it being so recent in the memory\nof so many living.\nThis is a town of good figure, and has in it several eminent merchants\nwho carry on a considerable trade to France, Spain, Newfoundland, and the\nStraits; and though they have neither creek or bay, road or river, they\nhave a good harbour, but it is such a one as is not in all Britain\nbesides, if there is such a one in any part of the world.\nIt is a massy pile of building, consisting of high and thick walls of\nstone, raised at first with all the methods that skill and art could\ndevise, but maintained now with very little difficulty.  The walls are\nraised in the main sea at a good distance from the shore; it consists of\none main and solid wall of stone, large enough for carts and carriages to\npass on the top, and to admit houses and warehouses to be built on it, so\nthat it is broad as a street.  Opposite to this, but farther into the\nsea, is another wall of the same workmanship, which crosses the end of\nthe first wall and comes about with a tail parallel to the first wall.\nBetween the point of the first or main wall is the entrance into the\nport, and the second or opposite wall, breaking the violence of the sea\nfrom the entrance, the ships go into the basin as into a pier or harbour,\nand ride there as secure as in a millpond or as in a wet dock.\nThe townspeople have the benefit of this wonderful harbour, and it is\ncarefully kept in repair, as indeed it behoves them to do; but they could\ngive me nothing of the history of it, nor do they, as I could perceive,\nknow anything of the original of it, or who built it.  It was lately\nalmost beaten down by a storm, but is repaired again.\nThis work is called the Cobb.  The Custom House officers have a lodge and\nwarehouse upon it, and there were several ships of very good force and\nrich in value in the basin of it when I was there.  It might be\nstrengthened with a fort, and the walls themselves are firm enough to\ncarry what guns they please to plant upon it; but they did not seem to\nthink it needful, and as the shore is convenient for batteries, they have\nsome guns planted in proper places, both for the defence of the Cobb and\nthe town also.\nThis town is under the government of a mayor and aldermen, and may pass\nfor a place of wealth, considering the bigness of it.  Here, we found,\nthe merchants began to trade in the pilchard-fishing, though not to so\nconsiderable a degree as they do farther west--the pilchards seldom\ncoming up so high eastward as Portland, and not very often so high as\nLyme.\nIt was in sight of these hills that Queen Elizabeth's fleet, under the\ncommand of the Lord Howard of Effingham (then Admiral), began first to\nengage in a close and resolved fight with the invincible Spanish Armada\nin 1588, maintaining the fight, the Spaniards making eastward till they\ncame the length of Portland Race, where they gave it over--the Spaniards\nhaving received considerable damage, and keeping then closer together.\nOff of the same place was a desperate engagement in the year 1672 between\nthe English and Dutch, in which the Dutch were worsted and driven over to\nthe coast of France, and then glad to make home to refit and repair.\nWhile we stayed here some time viewing this town and coast, we had\nopportunity to observe the pleasant way of conversation as it is managed\namong the gentlemen of this county and their families, which are, without\nreflection, some of the most polite and well-bred people in the isle of\nBritain.  As their hospitality is very great, and their bounty to the\npoor remarkable, so their generous friendly way of living with, visiting,\nand associating one with another is as hard to be described as it is\nreally to be admired; they seem to have a mutual confidence in and\nfriendship with one another, as if they were all relations; nor did I\nobserve the sharping, tricking temper which is too much crept in among\nthe gaming and horse-racing gentry in some parts of England to be so much\nknown among them any otherwise than to be abhorred; and yet they\nsometimes play, too, and make matches and horse-races, as they see\noccasion.\nThe ladies here do not want the help of assemblies to assist in\nmatchmaking, or half-pay officers to run away with their daughters, which\nthe meetings called assemblies in some other parts of England are\nrecommended for.  Here is no Bury Fair, where the women are scandalously\nsaid to carry themselves to market, and where every night they meet at\nthe play or at the assembly for intrigue; and yet I observed that the\nwomen do not seem to stick on hand so much in this country as in those\ncountries where those assemblies are so lately set up--the reason of\nwhich, I cannot help saying, if my opinion may bear any weight, is that\nthe Dorsetshire ladies are equal in beauty, and may be superior in\nreputation.  In a word, their reputation seems here to be better kept,\nguarded by better conduct, and managed with more prudence; and yet the\nDorsetshire ladies, I assure you, are not nuns; they do not go veiled\nabout streets, or hide themselves when visited; but a general freedom of\nconversation--agreeable, mannerly, kind, and good--runs through the whole\nbody of the gentry of both sexes, mixed with the best of behaviour, and\nyet governed by prudence and modesty such as I nowhere see better in all\nmy observation through the whole isle of Britain.  In this little\ninterval also I visited some of the biggest towns in the north-west part\nof this county, as Blandford--a town on the River Stour in the road\nbetween Salisbury and Dorchester--a handsome well-built town, but chiefly\nfamous for making the finest bone-lace in England, and where they showed\nme some so exquisitely fine as I think I never saw better in Flanders,\nFrance, or Italy, and which they said they rated at above 30 pounds\nsterling a yard; but I suppose there was not much of this to be had.  But\nit is most certain that they make exceeding rich lace in that county,\nsuch as no part of England can equal.\nFrom thence I went west to Stourbridge, vulgarly called Strabridge.  The\ntown and the country around is employed in the manufacture of stockings,\nand which was once famous for making the finest, best, and highest-prize\nknit stocking in England; but that trade now is much decayed by the\nincrease of the knitting-stocking engine or frame, which has destroyed\nthe hand-knitting trade for fine stockings through the whole kingdom, of\nwhich I shall speak more in its place.\nFrom hence I came to Sherborne, a large and populous town, with one\ncollegiate or conventual church, and may properly claim to have more\ninhabitants in it than any town in Dorsetshire, though it is neither the\ncounty-town, nor does it send members to Parliament.  The church is still\na reverend pile, and shows the face of great antiquity.  Here begins the\nWiltshire medley clothing (though this town be in Dorsetshire), of which\nI shall speak at large in its place, and therefore I omit any discourse\nof it here.\nShaftesbury is also on the edge of this county, adjoining to Wiltshire\nand Dorsetshire, being fourteen miles from Salisbury, over that fine down\nor carpet ground which they call particularly or properly Salisbury\nPlain.  It has neither house nor town in view all the way; and the road,\nwhich often lies very broad and branches off insensibly, might easily\ncause a traveller to lose his way.  But there is a certain never-failing\nassistance upon all these downs for telling a stranger his way, and that\nis the number of shepherds feeding or keeping their vast flocks of sheep\nwhich are everywhere in the way, and who with a very little pains a\ntraveller may always speak with.  Nothing can be like it.  The Arcadians'\nplains, of which we read so much pastoral trumpery in the poets, could be\nnothing to them.\nThis Shaftesbury is now a sorry town upon the top of a high hill, which\ncloses the plain or downs, and whence Nature presents you a new scene or\nprospect--viz., of Somerset and Wiltshire--where it is all enclosed, and\ngrown with woods, forests, and planted hedge-rows; the country rich,\nfertile, and populous; the towns and houses standing thick and being\nlarge and full of inhabitants, and those inhabitants fully employed in\nthe richest and most valuable manufacture in the world--viz., the English\nclothing, as well the medley or mixed clothing as whites, as well for the\nhome trade as the foreign trade, of which I shall take leave to be very\nparticular in my return through the west and north part of Wiltshire in\nthe latter part of this work.\nIn my return to my western progress, I passed some little part of\nSomersetshire, as through Evil or Yeovil, upon the River Ivil, in going\nto which we go down a long steep hill, which they call Babylon Hill, but\nfrom what original I could find none of the country people to inform me.\nThis Yeovil is a market-town of good resort; and some clothing is carried\non in and near it, but not much.  Its main manufacture at this time is\nmaking of gloves.\nIt cannot pass my observation here that when we are come this length from\nLondon the dialect of the English tongue, or the country way of\nexpressing themselves, is not easily understood--it is so strangely\naltered.  It is true that it is so in many parts of England besides, but\nin none in so gross a degree as in this part.  This way of boorish\ncountry speech, as in Ireland it is called the \"brogue\" upon the tongue,\nso here it is called \"jouring;\" and it is certain that though the tongue\nbe all mere natural English, yet those that are but a little acquainted\nwith them cannot understand one-half of what they say.  It is not\npossible to explain this fully by writing, because the difference is not\nso much in the orthography of words as in the tone and diction--their\nabridging the speech, \"cham\" for \"I am,\" \"chil\" for \"I will,\" \"don\" for\n\"put on,\" and \"doff\" for \"put off,\" and the like.  And I cannot omit a\nshort story here on this subject.  Coming to a relation's house, who was\na school-master at Martock, in Somersetshire, I went into his school to\nbeg the boys a play-day, as is usual in such cases (I should have said,\nto beg the master a play-day.  But that by the way).  Coming into the\nschool, I observed one of the lowest scholars was reading his lesson to\nthe usher, which lesson, it seems, was a chapter in the Bible.  So I sat\ndown by the master till the boy had read out his chapter.  I observed the\nboy read a little oddly in the tone of the country, which made me the\nmore attentive, because on inquiry I found that the words were the same\nand the orthography the same as in all our Bibles.  I observed also the\nboy read it out with his eyes still on the book and his head (like a mere\nboy) moving from side to side as the lines reached cross the columns of\nthe book.  His lesson was in the Canticles, v. 3 of chap. v.  The words\nthese:--\"I have put off my coat.  How shall I put it on?  I have washed\nmy feet.  How shall I defile them?\"\nThe boy read thus, with his eyes, as I say, full on the text:--\"Chav a\ndoffed my cooat.  How shall I don't?  Chav a washed my veet.  How shall I\nmoil 'em?\"\nHow the dexterous dunce could form his month to express so readily the\nwords (which stood right printed in the book) in his country jargon, I\ncould not but admire.  I shall add to this another piece as diverting,\nwhich also happened in my knowledge at this very town of Yeovil, though\nsome years ago.\nThere lived a good substantial family in the town not far from the \"Angel\nInn\"--a well-known house, which was then, and, I suppose, is still, the\nchief inn of the town.  This family had a dog which, among his other good\nqualities for which they kept him (for he was a rare house-dog), had this\nbad one--that he was a most notorious thief, but withal so cunning a dog,\nand managed himself so warily, that he preserved a mighty good reputation\namong the neighbourhood.  As the family was well beloved in the town, so\nwas the dog.  He was known to be a very useful servant to them,\nespecially in the night (when he was fierce as a lion; but in the day the\ngentlest, lovingest creature that could be), and, as they said, all the\nneighbours had a good word for this dog.\nIt happened that the good wife or mistress at the \"Angel Inn\" had\nfrequently missed several pieces of meat out of the pail, as they say--or\npowdering-tub, as we call it--and that some were very large pieces.  It\nis also to be observed the dog did not stay to eat what he took upon the\nspot, in which case some pieces or bones or fragments might be left, and\nso it might be discovered to be a dog; but he made cleaner work, and when\nhe fastened upon a piece of meat he was sure to carry it quite away to\nsuch retreats as he knew he could be safe in, and so feast upon it at\nleisure.\nIt happened at last, as with most thieves it does, that the inn-keeper\nwas too cunning for him, and the poor dog was nabbed, taken in the fact,\nand could make no defence.\nHaving found the thief and got him in custody, the master of the house, a\ngood-humoured fellow, and loth to disoblige the dog's master by executing\nthe criminal, as the dog law directs, mitigates his sentence, and handled\nhim as follows:--First, taking out his knife, he cut off both his ears;\nand then, bringing him to the threshold, he chopped off his tail.  And\nhaving thus effectually dishonoured the poor cur among his neighbours, he\ntied a string about his neck, and a piece of paper to the string,\ndirected to his master, and with these witty West Country verses on it:--\n      \"To my honoured master, --- Esq.\n   \"Hail master a cham a' com hoam,\n   So cut as an ape, and tail have I noan,\n   For stealing of beef and pork out of the pail,\n   For thease they'v cut my ears, for th' wother my tail;\n   Nea measter, and us tell thee more nor that\n   And's come there again, my brains will be flat.\"\nI could give many more accounts of the different dialects of the people\nof this country, in some of which they are really not to be understood;\nbut the particulars have little or no diversion in them.  They carry it\nsuch a length that we see their \"jouring\" speech even upon their\nmonuments and grave-stones; as, for example, even in some of the\nchurchyards of the city of Bristol I saw this excellent poetry after some\nother lines:--\n   \"And when that thou doest hear of thick,\n   Think of the glass that runneth quick.\"\nBut I proceed into Devonshire.  From Yeovil we came to Crookorn, thence\nto Chard, and from thence into the same road I was in before at Honiton.\nThis is a large and beautiful market-town, very populous and well built,\nand is so very remarkably paved with small pebbles that on either side\nthe way a little channel is left shouldered up on the sides of it, so\nthat it holds a small stream of fine clear running water, with a little\nsquare dipping-place left at every door; so that every family in the town\nhas a clear, clean running river (as it may be called) just at their own\ndoor, and this so much finer, so much pleasanter, and agreeable to look\non than that at Salisbury (which they boast so much of), that, in my\nopinion, there is no comparison.\nHere we see the first of the great serge manufacture of Devonshire--a\ntrade too great to be described in miniature, as it must be if I\nundertake it here, and which takes up this whole county, which is the\nlargest and most populous in England, Yorkshire excepted (which ought to\nbe esteemed three counties, and is, indeed, divided as such into the\nEast, West, and North Riding).  But Devonshire, one entire county, is so\nfull of great towns, and those towns so full of people, and those people\nso universally employed in trade and manufactures, that not only it\ncannot be equalled in England, but perhaps not in Europe.\nIn my travel through Dorsetshire I ought to have observed that the\nbiggest towns in that county sent no members to Parliament, and that the\nsmallest did--that is to say that Sherborne, Blandford, Wimborneminster,\nStourminster, and several other towns choose no members; whereas\nWeymouth, Melcombe, and Bridport were all burgess towns.  But now we come\nto Devonshire we find almost all the great towns, and some smaller,\nchoosing members also.  It is true there are some large populous towns\nthat do not choose, but then there are so many that do, that the county\nseems to have no injustice, for they send up six-and-twenty members.\nHowever, as I say above, there are several great towns which do not\nchoose Parliament men, of which Bideford is one, Crediton or Kirton\nanother, Ilfracombe a third; but, those excepted, the principal towns in\nthe county do all choose members of Parliament.\nHoniton is one of those, and may pass not only for a pleasant good town,\nas before, but stands in the best and pleasantest part of the whole\ncounty, and I cannot but recommend it to any gentlemen that travel this\nroad, that if they please to observe the prospect for half a mile till\ntheir coming down the hill and to the entrance into Honiton, the view of\nthe country is the most beautiful landscape in the world--a mere\npicture--and I do not remember the like in any one place in England.  It\nis observable that the market of this town was kept originally on the\nSunday, till it was changed by the direction of King John.\nFrom Honiton the country is exceeding pleasant still, and on the road\nthey have a beautiful prospect almost all the way to Exeter (which is\ntwelve miles).  On the left-hand of this road lies that part of the\ncounty which they call the South Hams, and which is famous for the best\ncider in that part of England; also the town of St.-Mary-Ottery, commonly\ncalled St. Mary Autree.  They tell us the name is derived from the River\nOttery, and that from the multitude of otters found always in that river,\nwhich however, to me, seems fabulous.  Nor does there appear to be any\nsuch great number of otters in that water, or in the county about, more\nthan is usual in other counties or in other parts of the county about\nthem.  They tell us they send twenty thousand hogsheads of cider hence\nevery year to London, and (which is still worse) that it is most of it\nbought there by the merchants to mix with their wines--which, if true, is\nnot much to the reputation of the London vintners.  But that by-the-bye.\nFrom hence we came to Exeter, a city famous for two things which we\nseldom find unite in the same town--viz., that it is full of gentry and\ngood company, and yet full of trade and manufactures also.  The serge\nmarket held here every week is very well worth a stranger's seeing, and\nnext to the Brigg Market at Leeds, in Yorkshire, is the greatest in\nEngland.  The people assured me that at this market is generally sold\nfrom sixty to seventy to eighty, and sometimes a hundred, thousand pounds\nvalue in serges in a week.  I think it is kept on Mondays.\nThey have the River Esk here, a very considerable river, and principal in\nthe whole county; and within three miles, or thereabouts, it receives\nships of any ordinary burthen, the port there being called Topsham.  But\nnow by the application, and at the expense, of the citizens the channel\nof the river is so widened, deepened, and cleansed from the shoal, which\nwould otherwise interrupt the navigation, that the ships come now quite\nup to the city, and there with ease both deliver and take in their\nlading.\nThis city drives a very great correspondence with Holland, as also\ndirectly to Portugal, Spain, and Italy--shipping off vast quantities of\ntheir woollen manufactures especially to Holland, the Dutch giving very\nlarge commissions here for the buying of serges perpetuans, and such\ngoods; which are made not only in and about Exeter, but at Crediton,\nHoniton, Culliton, St.-Mary-Ottery, Newton Bushel, Ashburton, and\nespecially at Tiverton, Cullompton, Bampton, and all the north-east part\nof the county--which part of the county is, as it may be said, fully\nemployed, the people made rich, and the poor that are properly so called\nwell subsisted and employed by it.\nExeter is a large, rich, beautiful, populous, and was once a very strong\ncity; but as to the last, as the castle, the walls, and all the old works\nare demolished, so, were they standing, the way of managing sieges and\nattacks of towns is such now, and so altered from what it was in those\ndays, that Exeter in the utmost strength it could ever boast would not\nnow hold out five days open trenches--nay, would hardly put an army to\nthe trouble of opening trenches against it at all.  This city was famous\nin the late civil unnatural war for its loyalty to the king, and for\nbeing a sanctuary to the queen, where her Majesty resided for some time,\nand here she was delivered of a daughter, being the Princess Henrietta\nMaria, of whom our histories give a particular account, so I need say no\nmore of it here.\nThe cathedral church of this city is an ancient beauty, or, as it may be\nsaid, it is beautiful for its antiquity; but it has been so fully and\noften described that it would look like a mere copying from others to\nmention it.  There is a good library kept in it, in which are some\nmanuscripts, and particularly an old missal or mass-book, the leaves of\nvellum, and famous for its most exquisite writing.\nThis county, and this part of it in particular, has been famous for the\nbirth of several eminent men as well for learning as for arts and for\nwar, as particularly:--\n1.  Sir William Petre, who the learned Dr. Wake (now Archbishop of\nCanterbury, and author of the Additions to Mr. Camden) says was Secretary\nof State and Privy Councillor to King Henry VIII., Edward VI., Queen\nMary, and Queen Elizabeth, and seven times sent ambassador into foreign\ncountries.\n2.  Sir Thomas Bodley, famous and of grateful memory to all learned men\nand lovers of letters for his collecting and establishing the best\nlibrary in Britain, which is now at Oxford, and is called, after his\nname, the Bodleian Library to this day.\n3.  Also Sir Francis Drake, born at Plymouth.\n4.  Sir Walter Raleigh.  Of both those I need say nothing; fame publishes\ntheir merit upon every mention of their names.\n5.  That great patron of learning, Richard Hooker, author of the\n\"Ecclesiastical Polity,\" and of several other valuable pieces.\n6.  Of Dr. Arthur Duck, a famed civilian, and well known by his works\namong the learned advocates of Doctors' Commons.\n7.  Dr. John Moreman, of Southold, famous for being the first clergyman\nin England who ventured to teach his parishioners the Lord's Prayer,\nCreed, and Ten Commandments in the English tongue, and reading them so\npublicly in the parish church of Mayenhennet in this county, of which he\nwas vicar.\n8.  Dr. John de Brampton, a man of great learning who flourished in the\nreign of Henry VI., was famous for being the first that read Aristotle\npublicly in the University of Cambridge, and for several learned books of\nhis writing, which are now lost.\n9.  Peter Blundel, a clothier, who built the free school at Tiverton, and\nendowed it very handsomely; of which in its place.\n10.  Sir John Glanvill, a noted lawyer, and one of the Judges of the\nCommon Pleas.\n11.  Sergeant Glanvill, his son; as great a lawyer as his father.\n12.  Sir John Maynard, an eminent lawyer of later years; one of the\nCommissioners of the Great Seal under King William III.  All these three\nwere born at Tavistock.\n13.  Sir Peter King, the present Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas.\nAnd many others.\nI shall take the north part of this county in my return from Cornwall; so\nI must now lean to the south--that is to say, to the South Coast--for in\ngoing on indeed we go south-west.\nAbout twenty-two miles from Exeter we go to Totnes, on the River Dart.\nThis is a very good town, of some trade; but has more gentlemen in it\nthan tradesmen of note.  They have a very fine stone bridge here over the\nriver, which, being within seven or eight miles of the sea, is very\nlarge; and the tide flows ten or twelve feet at the bridge.  Here we had\nthe diversion of seeing them catch fish with the assistance of a dog.  The\ncase is this:--On the south side of the river, and on a slip, or narrow\ncut or channel made on purpose for a mill, there stands a corn-mill; the\nmill-tail, or floor for the water below the wheels, is wharfed up on\neither side with stone above high-water mark, and for above twenty or\nthirty feet in length below it on that part of the river towards the sea;\nat the end of this wharfing is a grating of wood, the cross-bars of which\nstand bearing inward, sharp at the end, and pointing inward towards one\nanother, as the wires of a mouse-trap.\nWhen the tide flows up, the fish can with ease go in between the points\nof these cross-bars, but the mill being shut down they can go no farther\nupwards; and when the water ebbs again, they are left behind, not being\nable to pass the points of the grating, as above, outwards; which, like a\nmouse-trap, keeps them in, so that they are left at the bottom with about\na foot or a foot and a half of water.  We were carried hither at low\nwater, where we saw about fifty or sixty small salmon, about seventeen to\ntwenty inches long, which the country people call salmon-peal; and to\ncatch these the person who went with us, who was our landlord at a great\ninn next the bridge, put in a net on a hoop at the end of a pole, the\npole going cross the hoop (which we call in this country a shove-net).\nThe net being fixed at one end of the place, they put in a dog (who was\ntaught his trade beforehand) at the other end of the place, and he drives\nall the fish into the net; so that, only holding the net still in its\nplace, the man took up two or three and thirty salmon-peal at the first\ntime.\nOf these we took six for our dinner, for which they asked a shilling\n(viz., twopence a-piece); and for such fish, not at all bigger, and not\nso fresh, I have seen six-and-sixpence each given at a London\nfish-market, whither they are sometimes brought from Chichester by land\ncarriage.\nThis excessive plenty of so good fish (and other provisions being\nlikewise very cheap in proportion) makes the town of Totnes a very good\nplace to live in; especially for such as have large families and but\nsmall estates.  And many such are said to come into those parts on\npurpose for saving money, and to live in proportion to their income.\nFrom hence we went still south about seven miles (all in view of this\nriver) to Dartmouth, a town of note, seated at the mouth of the River\nDart, and where it enters into the sea at a very narrow but safe\nentrance.  The opening into Dartmouth Harbour is not broad, but the\nchannel deep enough for the biggest ship in the Royal Navy.  The sides of\nthe entrance are high-mounded with rocks, without which, just at the\nfirst narrowing of the passage, stands a good strong fort without a\nplatform of guns, which commands the port.\nThe narrow entrance is not much above half a mile, when it opens and\nmakes a basin or harbour able to receive 500 sail of ships of any size,\nand where they may ride with the greatest safety, even as in a mill-pond\nor wet dock.  I had the curiosity here, with the assistance of a merchant\nof the town, to go out to the mouth of the haven in a boat to see the\nentrance, and castle or fort that commands it; and coming back with the\ntide of flood, I observed some small fish to skip and play upon the\nsurface of the water, upon which I asked my friend what fish they were.\nImmediately one of the rowers or seamen starts up in the boat, and,\nthrowing his arms abroad as if he had been bewitched, cries out as loud\nas he could bawl, \"A school! a school!\"  The word was taken to the shore\nas hastily as it would have been on land if he had cried \"Fire!\"  And by\nthat time we reached the quays the town was all in a kind of an uproar.\nThe matter was that a great shoal--or, as they call it, a \"school\"--of\npilchards came swimming with the tide of flood, directly out of the sea\ninto the harbour.  My friend whose boat we were in told me this was a\nsurprise which he would have been very glad of if he could but have had a\nday or two's warning, for he might have taken 200 tons of them.  And the\nlike was the case of other merchants in town; for, in short, nobody was\nready for them, except a small fishing-boat or two--one of which went out\ninto the middle of the harbour, and at two or three hauls took about\nforty thousand of them.  We sent our servant to the quay to buy some, who\nfor a halfpenny brought us seventeen, and, if he would have taken them,\nmight have had as many more for the same money.  With these we went to\ndinner; the cook at the inn broiled them for us, which is their way of\ndressing them, with pepper and salt, which cost us about a farthing; so\nthat two of us and a servant dined--and at a tavern, too--for three\nfarthings, dressing and all.  And this is the reason of telling the tale.\nWhat drink--wine or beer--we had I do not remember; but, whatever it was,\nthat we paid for by itself.  But for our food we really dined for three\nfarthings, and very well, too.  Our friend treated us the next day with a\ndish of large lobsters, and I being curious to know the value of such\nthings, and having freedom enough with him to inquire, I found that for\n6d. or 8d. they bought as good lobsters there as would have cost in\nLondon 3s. to 3s. 6d. each.\nIn observing the coming in of those pilchards, as above, we found that\nout at sea, in the offing, beyond the mouth of the harbour, there was a\nwhole army of porpoises, which, as they told us, pursued the pilchards,\nand, it is probable, drove them into the harbour, as above.  The school,\nit seems, drove up the river a great way, even as high as Totnes Bridge,\nas we heard afterwards; so that the country people who had boats and nets\ncatched as many as they knew what to do with, and perhaps lived upon\npilchards for several days.  But as to the merchants and trade, their\ncoming was so sudden that it was no advantage to them.\nRound the west side of this basin or harbour, in a kind of a semicircle,\nlies the town of Dartmouth, a very large and populous town, though but\nmeanly built, and standing on the side of a steep hill; yet the quay is\nlarge, and the street before it spacious.  Here are some very flourishing\nmerchants, who trade very prosperously, and to the most considerable\ntrading ports of Spain, Portugal, Italy, and the Plantations; but\nespecially they are great traders to Newfoundland, and from thence to\nSpain and Italy, with fish; and they drive a good trade also in their own\nfishery of pilchards, which is hereabouts carried on with the greatest\nnumber of vessels of any port in the west, except Falmouth.\nA little to the southward of this town, and to the east of the port, is\nTor Bay, of which I know nothing proper to my observation, more than that\nit is a very good road for ships, though sometimes (especially with a\nsoutherly or south-east wind) ships have been obliged to quit the bay and\nput out to sea, or run into Dartmouth for shelter.\nI suppose I need not mention that they had from the hilly part of this\ntown, and especially from the hills opposite to it, the noble prospect,\nand at that time particularly delightful, of the Prince of Orange's fleet\nwhen he came to that coast, and as they entered into Tor Bay to land--the\nPrince and his army being in a fleet of about 600 sail of transport\nships, besides 50 sail of men-of-war of the line, all which, with a fair\nwind and fine weather, came to an anchor there at once.\nThis town, as most of the towns of Devonshire are, is full of Dissenters,\nand a very large meeting-house they have here.  How they act here with\nrespect to the great dispute about the doctrine of the Trinity, which has\ncaused such a breach among those people at Exeter and other parts of the\ncounty, I cannot give any account of.  This town sends two members to\nParliament.\nFrom hence we went to Plympton, a poor and thinly-inhabited town, though\nblessed with the like privilege of sending members to the Parliament, of\nwhich I have little more to say but that from thence the road lies to\nPlymouth, distance about six miles.\nPlymouth is indeed a town of consideration, and of great importance to\nthe public.  The situation of it between two very large inlets of the\nsea, and in the bottom of a large bay, which is very remarkable for the\nadvantage of navigation.  The Sound or Bay is compassed on every side\nwith hills, and the shore generally steep and rocky, though the anchorage\nis good, and it is pretty safe riding.  In the entrance to this bay lies\na large and most dangerous rock, which at high-water is covered, but at\nlow-tide lies bare, where many a good ship has been lost, even in the\nview of safety, and many a ship's crew drowned in the night, before help\ncould be had for them.\nUpon this rock (which was called the Eddystone, from its situation) the\nfamous Mr. Winstanley undertook to build a lighthouse for the direction\nof sailors, and with great art and expedition finished it; which\nwork--considering its height, the magnitude of its building, and the\nlittle hold there was by which it was possible to fasten it to the\nrock--stood to admiration, and bore out many a bitter storm.\nMr. Winstanley often visited, and frequently strengthened, the building\nby new works, and was so confident of its firmness and stability that he\nusually said he only desired to be in it when a storm should happen; for\nmany people had told him it would certainly fall if it came to blow a\nlittle harder than ordinary.\nBut he happened at last to be in it once too often--namely, when that\ndreadful tempest blew, November 27, 1703.  This tempest began on the\nWednesday before, and blew with such violence, and shook the lighthouse\nso much, that, as they told me there, Mr. Winstanley would fain have been\non shore, and made signals for help; but no boats durst go off to him;\nand, to finish the tragedy, on the Friday, November 26, when the tempest\nwas so redoubled that it became a terror to the whole nation, the first\nsight there seaward that the people of Plymouth were presented with in\nthe morning after the storm was the bare Eddystone, the lighthouse being\ngone; in which Mr. Winstanley and all that were with him perished, and\nwere never seen or heard of since.  But that which was a worse loss still\nwas that, a few days after, a merchant's ship called the _Winchelsea_,\nhomeward bound from Virginia, not knowing the Eddystone lighthouse was\ndown, for want of the light that should have been seen, run foul of the\nrock itself, and was lost with all her lading and most of her men.  But\nthere is now another light-house built on the same rock.\nWhat other disasters happened at the same time in the Sound and in the\nroads about Plymouth is not my business; they are also published in other\nbooks, to which I refer.\nOne thing which I was a witness to on a former journey to this place, I\ncannot omit.  It was the next year after that great storm, and but a\nlittle sooner in the year, being in August; I was at Plymouth, and\nwalking on the Hoo (which is a plain on the edge of the sea, looking to\nthe road), I observed the evening so serene, so calm, so bright, and the\nsea so smooth, that a finer sight, I think, I never saw.  There was very\nlittle wind, but what was, seemed to be westerly; and about an hour\nafter, it blew a little breeze at south-west, with which wind there came\ninto the Sound that night and the next morning a fleet of fourteen sail\nof ships from Barbadoes, richly laden for London.  Having been long at\nsea, most of the captains and passengers came on shore to refresh\nthemselves, as is usual after such tedious voyages; and the ships rode\nall in the Sound on that side next to Catwater.  As is customary upon\nsafe arriving to their native country, there was a general joy and\nrejoicing both on board and on shore.\nThe next day the wind began to freshen, especially in the afternoon, and\nthe sea to be disturbed, and very hard it blew at night; but all was well\nfor that time.  But the night after, it blew a dreadful storm (not much\ninferior, for the time it lasted, to the storm mentioned above which blew\ndown the lighthouse on the Eddystone).  About mid-night the noise,\nindeed, was very dreadful, what with the rearing of the sea and of the\nwind, intermixed with the firing of guns for help from the ships, the\ncries of the seamen and people on shore, and (which was worse) the cries\nof those which were driven on shore by the tempest and dashed in pieces.\nIn a word, all the fleet except three, or thereabouts, were dashed to\npieces against the rocks and sunk in the sea, most of the men being\ndrowned.  Those three who were saved, received so much damage that their\nlading was almost all spoiled.  One ship in the dark of the night, the\nmen not knowing where they were, run into Catwater, and run on shore\nthere; by which she was, however, saved from shipwreck, and the lives of\nher crew were saved also.\nThis was a melancholy morning indeed.  Nothing was to be seen but wrecks\nof the ships and a foaming, furious sea in that very place where they\nrode all in joy and triumph but the evening before.  The captains,\npassengers, and officers who were, as I have said, gone on shore, between\nthe joy of saving their lives, and the affliction of having lost their\nships, their cargoes, and their friends, were objects indeed worth our\ncompassion and observation.  And there was a great variety of the\npassions to be observed in them--now lamenting their losses, their giving\nthanks for their deliverance.  Many of the passengers had lost their all,\nand were, as they expressed themselves, \"utterly undone.\"  They were, I\nsay, now lamenting their losses with violent excesses of grief; then\ngiving thanks for their lives, and that they should be brought on shore,\nas it were, on purpose to be saved from death; then again in tears for\nsuch as were drowned.  The various cases were indeed very affecting, and,\nin many things, very instructing.\nAs I say, Plymouth lies in the bottom of this Sound, in the centre\nbetween the two waters, so there lies against it, in the same position,\nan island, which they call St. Nicholas, on which there is a castle which\ncommands the entrance into Hamoaze, and indeed that also into Catwater in\nsome degree.  In this island the famous General Lambert, one of\nCromwell's great agents or officers in the rebellion, was imprisoned for\nlife, and lived many years there.\nOn the shore over against this island is the citadel of Plymouth, a small\nbut regular fortification, inaccessible by sea, but not exceeding strong\nby land, except that they say the works are of a stone hard as marble,\nand would not soon yield to the batteries of an enemy--but that is a\nlanguage our modern engineers now laugh at.\nThe town stands above this, upon the same rock, and lies sloping on the\nside of it, towards the east--the inlet of the sea which is called\nCatwater, and which is a harbour capable of receiving any number of ships\nand of any size, washing the eastern shore of the town, where they have a\nkind of natural mole or haven, with a quay and all other conveniences for\nbringing in vessels for loading and unloading; nor is the trade carried\non here inconsiderable in itself, or the number of merchants small.\nThe other inlet of the sea, as I term it, is on the other side of the\ntown, and is called Hamoaze, being the mouth of the River Tamar, a\nconsiderable river which parts the two counties of Devon and Cornwall.\nHere (the war with France making it necessary that the ships of war\nshould have a retreat nearer hand than at Portsmouth) the late King\nWilliam ordered a wet dock--with yards, dry docks, launches, and\nconveniences of all kinds for building and repairing of ships--to be\nbuilt; and with these followed necessarily the building of store-houses\nand warehouses for the rigging, sails, naval and military stores, &c., of\nsuch ships as may be appointed to be laid up there, as now several are;\nwith very handsome houses for the commissioners, clerks, and officers of\nall kinds usual in the king's yards, to dwell in.  It is, in short, now\nbecome as complete an arsenal or yard for building and fitting men-of-war\nas any the Government are masters of, and perhaps much more convenient\nthan some of them, though not so large.\nThe building of these things, with the addition of rope-walks and mast-\nyards, &c., as it brought abundance of trades-people and workmen to the\nplace, so they began by little and little to build houses on the lands\nadjacent, till at length there appeared a very handsome street, spacious\nand large, and as well inhabited; and so many houses are since added that\nit is become a considerable town, and must of consequence in time draw\nabundance of people from Plymouth itself.\nHowever, the town of Plymouth is, and will always be, a very considerable\ntown, while that excellent harbour makes it such a general port for the\nreceiving all the fleets of merchants' ships from the southward (as from\nSpain, Italy, the West Indies, &c.), who generally make it the first port\nto put in at for refreshment, or safety from either weather or enemies.\nThe town is populous and wealthy, having, as above, several considerable\nmerchants and abundance of wealthy shopkeepers, whose trade depends upon\nsupplying the sea-faring people that upon so many occasions put into that\nport.  As for gentlemen--I mean, those that are such by family and birth\nand way of living--it cannot be expected to find many such in a town\nmerely depending on trade, shipping, and sea-faring business; yet I found\nhere some men of value (persons of liberal education, general knowledge,\nand excellent behaviour), whose society obliges me to say that a\ngentleman might find very agreeable company in Plymouth.\nFrom Plymouth we pass the Tamar over a ferry to Saltash--a little, poor,\nshattered town, the first we set foot on in the county of Cornwall.  The\nTamar here is very wide, and the ferry-boats bad; so that I thought\nmyself well escaped when I got safe on shore in Cornwall.\nSaltash seems to be the ruins of a larger place; and we saw many houses,\nas it were, falling down, and I doubt not but the mice and rats have\nabandoned many more, as they say they will when they are likely to fall.\nYet this town is governed by a mayor and aldermen, has many privileges,\nsends members to Parliament, takes toll of all vessels that pass the\nriver, and have the sole oyster-fishing in the whole river, which is\nconsiderable.  Mr. Carew, author of the \"Survey of Cornwall,\" tells us a\nstrange story of a dog in this town, of whom it was observed that if they\ngave him any large bone or piece of meat, he immediately went out of\ndoors with it, and after having disappeared for some time would return\nagain; upon which, after some time, they watched him, when, to their\ngreat surprise, they found that the poor charitable creature carried what\nhe so got to an old decrepit mastiff, which lay in a nest that he had\nmade among the brakes a little way out of the town, and was blind, so\nthat he could not help himself; and there this creature fed him.  He adds\nalso that on Sundays or holidays, when he found they made good cheer in\nthe house where he lived, he would go out and bring this old blind dog to\nthe door, and feed him there till he had enough, and then go with him\nback to his habitation in the country again, and see him safe in.  If\nthis story is true, it is very remarkable indeed; and I thought it worth\ntelling, because the author was a person who, they say, might be\ncredited.\nThis town has a kind of jurisdiction upon the River Tamar down to the\nmouth of the port, so that they claim anchorage of all small ships that\nenter the river; their coroner sits upon all dead bodies that are found\ndrowned in the river and the like, but they make not much profit of them.\nThere is a good market here, and that is the best thing to be said of the\ntown; it is also very much increased since the number of the inhabitants\nare increased at the new town, as I mentioned as near the dock at the\nmouth of Hamoaze, for those people choose rather to go to Saltash to\nmarket by water than to walk to Plymouth by land for their provisions.\nBecause, first, as they go in the town boat, the same boat brings home\nwhat they buy, so that it is much less trouble; second, because\nprovisions are bought much cheaper at Saltash than at Plymouth.  This, I\nsay, is like to be a very great advantage to the town of Saltash, and may\nin time put a new face of wealth upon the place.\nThey talk of some merchants beginning to trade here, and they have some\nships that use the Newfoundland fishery; but I could not hear of anything\nconsiderable they do in it.  There is no other considerable town up the\nTamar till we come to Launceston, the county town, which I shall take in\nmy return; so I turned west, keeping the south shore of the county to the\nLand's End.\nFrom Saltash I went to Liskeard, about seven miles.  This is a\nconsiderable town, well built; has people of fashion in it, and a very\ngreat market; it also sends two members to Parliament, and is one of the\nfive towns called Stannary Towns--that is to say, where the blocks of tin\nare brought to the coinage; of which, by itself, this coinage of tin is\nan article very much to the advantage of the towns where it is settled,\nthough the money paid goes another way.\nThis town of Liskeard was once eminent, had a good castle, and a large\nhouse, where the ancient Dukes of Cornwall kept their court in those\ndays; also it enjoyed several privileges, especially by the favour of the\nBlack Prince, who as Prince of Wales and Duke of Cornwall resided here.\nAnd in return they say this town and the country round it raised a great\nbody of stout young fellows, who entered into his service and followed\nhis fortunes in his wars in France, as also in Spain.  But these\nbuildings are so decayed that there are now scarce any of the ruins of\nthe castle or of the prince's court remaining.\nThe only public edifices they have now to show are the guild or town\nhall, on which there is a turret with a fine clock; a very good free\nschool, well provided; a very fine conduit in the market-place; an\nancient large church; and, which is something rare for the county of\nCornwall, a large, new-built meeting-house for the Dissenters, which I\nname because they assured me there was but three more, and those very\ninconsiderable, in all the county of Cornwall; whereas in Devonshire,\nwhich is the next county, there are reckoned about seventy, some of which\nare exceeding large and fine.\nThis town is also remarkable for a very great trade in all manufactures\nof leather, such as boots, shoes, gloves, purses, breaches, &c.; and some\nspinning of late years is set up here, encouraged by the woollen\nmanufacturers of Devonshire.\nBetween these two towns of Saltash and Liskeard is St. Germans, now a\nvillage, decayed, and without any market, but the largest parish in the\nwhole county--in the bounds of which is contained, as they report,\nseventeen villages, and the town of Saltash among them; for Saltash has\nno parish church, it seems, of itself, but as a chapel-of-ease to St.\nGermans.  In the neighbourhood of these towns are many pleasant seats of\nthe Cornish gentry, who are indeed very numerous, though their estates\nmay not be so large as is usual in England; yet neither are they\ndespicable in that part; and in particular this may be said of them--that\nas they generally live cheap, and are more at home than in other\ncounties, so they live more like gentlemen, and keep more within bounds\nof their estates than the English generally do, take them all together.\nAdd to this that they are the most sociable, generous, and to one another\nthe kindest, neighbours that are to be found; and as they generally live,\nas we may say, together (for they are almost always at one another's\nhouses), so they generally intermarry among themselves, the gentlemen\nseldom going out of the county for a wife, or the ladies for a husband;\nfrom whence they say that proverb upon them was raised, viz., \"That all\nthe Cornish gentlemen are cousins.\"\nOn the hills north of Liskeard, and in the way between Liskeard and\nLaunceston, there are many tin-mines.  And, as they told us, some of the\nrichest veins of that metal are found there that are in the whole\ncounty--the metal, when cast at the blowing houses into blocks, being, as\nabove, carried to Liskeard to be coined.\nFrom Liskeard, in our course west, we are necessarily carried to the sea-\ncoast, because of the River Fowey or Fowath, which empties itself into\nthe sea at a very large mouth.  And hereby this river rising in the\nmiddle of the breadth of the county and running south, and the River\nCamel rising not far from it and running north, with a like large\nchannel, the land from Bodmin to the western part of the county is almost\nmade an island and in a manner cut off from the eastern part--the\npeninsula, or neck of land between, being not above twelve miles over.\nOn this south side we came to Foy or Fowey, an ancient town, and formerly\nvery large--nay, not large only, but powerful and potent; for the Foyens,\nas they were then called, were able to fit out large fleets, not only for\nmerchants' ships, but even of men-of-war; and with these not only fought\nwith, but several times vanquished and routed, the squadron of the Cinque\nPorts men, who in those days were thought very powerful.\nMr. Camden observes that the town of Foy quarters some part of the arms\nof every one of those Cinque Ports with their own, intimating that they\nhad at several times trampled over them all.  Certain it is they did\noften beat them, and took their ships, and brought them as good prizes\ninto their haven of Foy; and carried it so high that they fitted out\ntheir fleets against the French, and took several of their men-of-war\nwhen they were at war with England, and enriched their town by the spoil\nof their enemies.\nEdward IV. favoured them much; and because the French threatened them to\ncome up their river with a powerful navy to burn their town, he caused\ntwo forts to be built at the public charge for security of the town and\nriver, which forts--at least, some show of them--remain there still.  But\nthe same King Edward was some time after so disgusted at the townsmen for\nofficiously falling upon the French, after a truce was made and\nproclaimed, that he effectually disarmed them, took away their whole\nfleet, ships, tackle, apparel, and furniture; and since that time we do\nnot read of any of their naval exploits, nor that they ever recovered or\nattempted to recover their strength at sea.  However, Foy at this time is\na very fair town; it lies extended on the east side of the river for\nabove a mile, the buildings fair.  And there are a great many flourishing\nmerchants in it, who have a great share in the fishing trade, especially\nfor pilchards, of which they take a great quantity hereabouts.  In this\ntown is also a coinage for the tin, of which a great quantity is dug up\nin the country north and west of the town.\nThe River Fowey, which is very broad and deep here, was formerly\nnavigable by ships of good burthen as high as Lostwithiel--an ancient and\nonce a flourishing but now a decayed town; and as to trade and\nnavigation, quite destitute; which is occasioned by the river being\nfilled up with sands, which, some say, the tides drive up in stormy\nweather from the sea; others say it is by sands washed from the\nlead-mines in the hills; the last of which, by the way, I take to be a\nmistake, the sand from the hills being not of quantity sufficient to fill\nup the channel of a navigable river, and, if it had, might easily have\nbeen stopped by the townspeople from falling into the river.  But that\nthe sea has choked up the river with sand is not only probable, but true;\nand there are other rivers which suffer in the like manner in this same\ncountry.\nThis town of Lostwithiel retains, however, several advantages which\nsupport its figure--as, first, that it is one of the Coinage Towns, as I\ncall them; or Stannary Towns, as others call them; (2) the common gaol\nfor the whole Stannary is here, as are also the County Courts for the\nwhole county of Cornwall.\nThere is a mock cavalcade kept up at this town, which is very remarkable.\nThe particulars, as they are related by Mr. Carew in his \"Survey of\nCornwall,\" take as follows:--\n\"Upon Little Easter Sunday the freeholders of this town and manor, by\nthemselves or their deputies, did there assemble; amongst whom one (as it\nfell to his lot by turn), bravely apparelled, gallantly mounted, with a\ncrown on his head, a sceptre in his hand, and a sword borne before him,\nand dutifully attended by all the rest (also on horseback), rode through\nthe principal street to the church.  The curate in his best beseen\nsolemnly received him at the churchyard stile, and conducted him to hear\ndivine service.  After which he repaired, with the same pomp, to a house\nprovided for that purpose, made a feast to his attendants, kept the\ntable's-end himself, and was served with kneeling assay and all other\nrights due to the estate of a prince; with which dinner the ceremony\nended, and every man returned home again.  The pedigree of this usage is\nderived from so many descents of ages that the cause and author outreach\nthe remembrance.  Howbeit, these circumstances afford a conjecture that\nit should betoken royalties appertaining to the honour of Cornwall.\"\nBehind Foy and nearer to the coast, at the mouth of a small river which\nsome call Lowe, though without any authority, there stand two towns\nopposite to one another bearing the name of the River Looe--that is to\nsay, distinguished by the addition of East Looe and West Looe.  These are\nboth good trading towns, and especially fishing towns; and, which is very\nparticular, are (like Weymouth and Melcombe, in Dorsetshire) separated\nonly by the creek or river, and yet each of them sends members to\nParliament.  These towns are joined together by a very beautiful and\nstately stone bridge having fifteen arches.\nEast Looe was the ancienter corporation of the two, and for some ages ago\nthe greater and more considerable town; but now they tell us West Looe is\nthe richest, and has the most ships belonging to it.  Were they put\ntogether, they would make a very handsome seaport town.  They have a\ngreat fishing trade here, as well for supply of the country as for\nmerchandise, and the towns are not despisable.  But as to sending four\nmembers to the British Parliament (which is as many as the City of London\nchooses), that, I confess, seems a little scandalous; but to whom, is\nnone of my business to inquire.\nPassing from hence, and ferrying over Foy River or the River Foweth (call\nit as you please), we come into a large country without many towns in it\nof note, but very well furnished with gentlemen's seats, and a little\nhigher up with tin-works.\nThe sea making several deep bays here, they who travel by land are\nobliged to go higher into the country to pass above the water, especially\nat Trewardreth Bay, which lies very broad, above ten miles within the\ncountry, which passing at Trewardreth (a town of no great note, though\nthe bay takes its name from it), the next inlet of the sea is the famous\nfirth or inlet called Falmouth Haven.  It is certainly, next to Milford\nHaven in South Wales, the fairest and best road for shipping that is in\nthe whole isle of Britain, whether be considered the depth of water for\nabove twenty miles within land; the safety of riding, sheltered from all\nkind of winds or storms; the good anchorage; and the many creeks, all\nnavigable, where ships may run in and be safe; so that the like is\nnowhere to be found.\nThere are six or seven very considerable places upon this haven and the\nrivers from it--viz., Grampound, Tregony, Truro, Penryn, Falmouth, St.\nMaws, and Pendennis.  The three first of these send members to\nParliament.  The town of Falmouth, as big as all the three, and richer\nthan ten of them, sends none; which imports no more than this--that\nFalmouth itself is not of so great antiquity as to its rising as those\nother towns are; and yet the whole haven takes its name from Falmouth,\ntoo, unless, as some think, the town took its name from the haven, which,\nhowever, they give no authority to suggest.\nSt. Maws and Pendennis are two fortifications placed at the points or\nentrance of this haven, opposite to one another, though not with a\ncommunication or view; they are very strong--the first principally by\nsea, having a good platform of guns pointing athwart the Channel, and\nplanted on a level with the water.  But Pendennis Castle is strong by\nland as well as by water, is regularly fortified, has good out-works, and\ngenerally a strong garrison.  St. Maws, otherwise called St. Mary's, has\na town annexed to the castle, and is a borough sending members to the\nParliament.  Pendennis is a mere fortress, though there are some\nhabitations in it, too, and some at a small distance near the seaside,\nbut not of any great consideration.\nThe town of Falmouth is by much the richest and best trading town in this\ncounty, though not so ancient as its neighbour town of Truro; and indeed\nis in some things obliged to acknowledge the seigniority--namely, that in\nthe corporation of Truro the person whom they choose to be their Mayor of\nTruro is also Mayor of Falmouth of course.  How the jurisdiction is\nmanaged is an account too long for this place.  The Truro-men also\nreceive several duties collected in Falmouth, particularly wharfage for\nthe merchandises landed or shipped off; but let these advantages be what\nthey will, the town of Falmouth has gotten the trade--at least, the best\npart of it--from the other, which is chiefly owing to the situation.  For\nthat Falmouth lying upon the sea, but within the entrance, ships of the\ngreatest burthen come up to the very quays, and the whole Royal Navy\nmight ride safely in the road; whereas the town of Truro lying far\nwithin, and at the mouth of two fresh rivers, is not navigable for\nvessels of above 150 tons or thereabouts.\nSome have suggested that the original of Falmouth was the having so large\na quay, and so good a depth of water at it.  The merchants of Truro\nformerly used it for the place of lading and unlading their ships, as the\nmerchants of Exeter did at Topsham; and this is the more probable in\nthat, as above, the wharfage of those landing-places is still the\nproperty of the corporation of Truro.\nBut let this be as it will, the trade is now in a manner wholly gone to\nFalmouth, the trade at Truro being now chiefly (if not only) for the\nshipping off of block tin and copper ore, the latter being lately found\nin large quantities in some of the mountains between Truro and St.\nMichael's, and which is much improved since the several mills are erected\nat Bristol and other parts for the manufactures of battery ware, as it is\ncalled (brass), or which is made out of English copper, most of it dug\nin these parts--the ore itself ago being found very rich and good.\nFalmouth is well built, has abundance of shipping belonging to it, is\nfull of rich merchants, and has a flourishing and increasing trade.  I\nsay \"increasing,\" because by the late setting up the English packets\nbetween this port and Lisbon, there is a new commerce between Portugal\nand this town carried on to a very great value.\nIt is true, part of this trade was founded in a clandestine commerce\ncarried on by the said packets at Lisbon, where, being the king's ships,\nand claiming the privilege of not being searched or visited by the Custom\nHouse officers, they found means to carry off great quantities of British\nmanufactures, which they sold on board to the Portuguese merchants, and\nthey conveyed them on shore, as it is supposed, without paying custom.\nBut the Government there getting intelligence of it, and complaint being\nmade in England also, where it was found to be very prejudicial to the\nfair merchant, that trade has been effectually stopped.  But the Falmouth\nmerchants, having by this means gotten a taste of the Portuguese trade,\nhave maintained it ever since in ships of their own.  These packets bring\nover such vast quantities of gold in specie, either in _moidores_ (which\nis the Portugal coin) or in bars of gold, that I am very credibly\ninformed the carrier from Falmouth brought by land from thence to London\nat one time, in the month of January, 1722, or near it, eighty thousand\n_moidores_ in gold, which came from Lisbon in the packet-boats for\naccount of the merchants at London, and that it was attended with a guard\nof twelve horsemen well armed, for which the said carrier had half per\ncent. for his hazard.\nThis is a specimen of the Portugal trade, and how considerable it is in\nitself, as well as how advantageous to England; but as that is not to the\npresent case, I proceed.  The Custom House for all the towns in this\nport, and the head collector, is established at this town, where the\nduties (including the other ports) is very considerable.  Here is also a\nvery great fishing for pilchards; and the merchants for Falmouth have the\nchief stroke in that gainful trade.\nTruro is, however, a very considerable town, too.  It stands up the water\nnorth and by east from Falmouth, in the utmost extended branch of the\nAvon, in the middle between the conflux of two rivers, which, though not\nof any long course, have a very good appearance for a port, and make it\nlarge wharf between them in the front of the town.  And the water here\nmakes a good port for small ships, though it be at the influx, but not\nfor ships of burthen.  This is the particular town where the Lord-Warden\nof the Stannaries always holds his famous Parliament of miners, and for\nstamping of tin.  The town is well built, but shows that it has been much\nfuller, both of houses and inhabitants, than it is now; nor will it\nprobably ever rise while the town of Falmouth stands where it does, and\nwhile the trade is settled in it as it is.  There are at least three\nchurches in it, but no Dissenters' meeting-house that I could hear of.\nTregony is upon the same water north-east from Falmouth--distance about\nfifteen miles from it--but is a town of very little trade; nor, indeed,\nhave any of the towns, so far within the shore, notwithstanding the\nbenefit of the water, any considerable trade but what is carried on under\nthe merchants of Falmouth or Truro.  The chief thing that is to be said\nof this town is that it sends members to Parliament, as does also\nGrampound, a market-town; and Burro', about four miles farther up the\nwater.  This place, indeed, has a claim to antiquity, and is an appendix\nto the Duchy of Cornwall, of which it holds at a fee farm rent and pays\nto the Prince of Wales as duke 10 pounds 11s. 1d. per annum.  It has no\nparish church, but only a chapel-of-ease to an adjacent parish.\nPenryn is up the same branch of the Avon as Falmouth, but stands four\nmiles higher towards the west; yet ships come to it of as great a size as\ncan come to Truro itself.  It is a very pleasant, agreeable town, and for\nthat reason has many merchants in it, who would perhaps otherwise live at\nFalmouth.  The chief commerce of these towns, as to their sea-affairs, is\nthe pilchards and Newfoundland fishing, which is very profitable to them\nall.  It had formerly a conventual church, with a chantry and a religious\nhouse (a cell to Kirton); but they are all demolished, and scarce the\nruins of them distinguishable enough to know one part from another.\nQuitting Falmouth Haven from Penryn West, we came to Helston, about seven\nmiles, and stands upon the little River Cober, which, however, admits the\nsea so into its bosom as to make a tolerable good harbour for ships a\nlittle below the town.  It is the fifth town allowed for the coining tin,\nand several of the ships called tin-ships are laden here.\nThis town is large and populous, and has four spacious streets, a\nhandsome church, and a good trade.  This town also sends members to\nParliament.  Beyond this is a market-town, though of no resort for trade,\ncalled Market Jew.  It lies, indeed, on the seaside, but has no harbour\nor safe road for shipping.\nAt Helford is a small but good harbour between Falmouth and this port,\nwhere many times the tin-ships go in to load for London; also here are a\ngood number of fishing vessels for the pilchard trade, and abundance of\nskilful fishermen.  It was from this town that in the great storm which\nhappened November 27, 1703, a ship laden with tin was blown out to sea\nand driven to the Isle of Wight in seven hours, having on board only one\nman and two boys.  The story is as follows:--\n\"The beginning of the storm there lay a ship laden with tin in Helford\nHaven, about two leagues and a half west of Falmouth.  The tin was taken\non board at a place called Guague Wharf, five or six miles up the river,\nand the vessel was come down to Helford in order to pursue her voyage to\nLondon.\n\"About eight o'clock in the evening the commander, whose name was Anthony\nJenkins, went on board with his mate to see that everything was safe, and\nto give orders, but went both on shore again, leaving only a man and two\nboys on board, not apprehending any danger, they being in safe harbour.\nHowever, he ordered them that if it should blow hard they should carry\nout the small bower anchor, and so to moor the ship by two anchors, and\nthen giving what other orders he thought to be needful, he went ashore,\nas above.\n\"About nine o'clock, the wind beginning to blow harder, they carried out\nthe anchor, according to the master's order; but the wind increasing\nabout ten, the ship began to drive, so they carried out their best bower,\nwhich, having a good new cable, brought the ship up.  The storm still\nincreasing, they let go the kedge anchor; so that they then rode by four\nanchors ahead, which were all they had.\n\"But between eleven and twelve o'clock the wind came about west and by\nsouth, and blew in so violent and terrible a manner that, though they\nrode under the lee of a high shore, yet the ship was driven from all her\nanchors, and about midnight drove quite out of the harbour (the opening\nof the harbour lying due east and west) into the open sea, the men having\nneither anchor or cable or boat to help themselves.\n\"In this dreadful condition (they driving, I say, out of the harbour)\ntheir first and chief care was to go clear of the rocks which lie on\neither side the harbour's mouth, and which they performed pretty well.\nThen, seeing no remedy, they consulted what to do next.  They could carry\nno sail at first--no, not a knot; nor do anything but run away afore it.\nThe only thing they had to think on was to keep her out at sea as far as\nthey could, for fear of a point of land called the Dead Man's Head, which\nlies to the eastward of Falmouth Haven; and then, if they could escape\nthe land, thought to run in for Plymouth next morning, so, if possible,\nto save their lives.\n\"In this frighted condition they drove away at a prodigious rate, having\nsometimes the bonnet of their foresail a little out, but the yard lowered\nalmost to the deck--sometimes the ship almost under water, and sometimes\nabove, keeping still in the offing, for fear of the land, till they might\nsee daylight.  But when the day broke they found they were to think no\nmore of Plymouth, for they were far enough beyond it; and the first land\nthey made was Peverel Point, being the southernmost land of the Isle of\nPurbeck, in Dorsetshire, and a little to the westward of the Isle of\nWight; so that now they were in a terrible consternation, and driving\nstill at a prodigious rate.  By seven o'clock they found themselves\nbroadside of the Isle of Wight.\n\"Here they consulted again what to do to save their lives.  One of the\nboys was for running her into the Downs; but the man objected that,\nhaving no anchor or cable nor boat to go on shore with, and the storm\nblowing off shore in the Downs, they should be inevitably blown off and\nlost upon the unfortunate Goodwin--which, it seems, the man had been on\nonce before and narrowly escaped.\n\"Now came the last consultation for their lives.  The other of the boys\nsaid he had been in a certain creek in the Isle of Wight, where, between\nthe rocks, he knew there was room to run the ship in, and at least to\nsave their lives, and that he saw the place just that moment; so he\ndesired the man to let him have the helm, and he would do his best and\nventure it.  The man gave him the helm, and he stood directly in among\nthe rocks, the people standing on the shore thinking they were mad, and\nthat they would in a few minutes be dashed in a thousand pieces.\n\"But when they came nearer, and the people found they steered as if they\nknew the place, they made signals to them to direct them as well as they\ncould, and the young bold fellow run her into a small cove, where she\nstuck fast, as it were, between the rocks on both sides, there being but\njust room enough for the breadth of the ship.  The ship indeed, giving\ntwo or three knocks, staved and sunk, but the man and the two youths\njumped ashore and were safe; and the lading, being tin, was afterwards\nsecured.\n\"N.B.--The merchants very well rewarded the three sailors, especially the\nlad that ran her into that place.\"\nPenzance is the farthest town of any note west, being 254 miles from\nLondon, and within about ten miles of the promontory called the Land's\nEnd; so that this promontory is from London 264 miles, or thereabouts.\nThis town of Penzance is a place of good business, well built and\npopulous, has a good trade, and a great many ships belonging to it,\nnotwithstanding it is so remote.  Here are also a great many good\nfamilies of gentlemen, though in this utmost angle of the nation; and,\nwhich is yet more strange, the veins of lead, tin, and copper ore are\nsaid to be seen even to the utmost extent of land at low-water mark, and\nin the very sea--so rich, so valuable, a treasure is contained in these\nparts of Great Britain, though they are supposed to be so poor, because\nso very remote from London, which is the centre of our wealth.\nBetween this town and St. Burien, a town midway between it and the Land's\nEnd, stands a circle of great stones, not unlike those at Stonehenge, in\nWiltshire, with one bigger than the rest in the middle.  They stand about\ntwelve feet asunder, but have no inscription; neither does tradition\noffer to leave any part of their history upon record, as whether it was a\ntrophy or a monument of burial, or an altar for worship, or what else; so\nthat all that can be learned of them is that here they are.  The parish\nwhere they stand is called Boscawone, from whence the ancient and\nhonourable family of Boscawen derive their names.\nNear Penzance, but open to the sea, is that gulf they call Mount's Bay;\nnamed so from a high hill standing in the water, which they call St.\nMichael's Mount: the seamen call it only the Cornish Mount.  It has been\nfortified, though the situation of it makes it so difficult of access\nthat, like the Bass in Scotland, there needs no fortification; like the\nBass, too, it was once made a prison for prisoners of State, but now it\nis wholly neglected.  There is a very good road here for shipping, which\nmakes the town of Penzance be a place of good resort.\nA little up in the county towards the north-west is Godolchan, which\nthough a hill, rather than a town, gives name to the noble and ancient\nfamily of Godolphin; and nearer on the northern coast is Royalton, which\nsince the late Sydney Godolphin, Esq., a younger brother of the family,\nwas created Earl of Godolphin, gave title of Lord to his eldest son, who\nwas called Lord Royalton during the life of his father.  This place also\nis infinitely rich in tin-mines.\nI am now at my journey's end.  As to the islands of Scilly, which lie\nbeyond the Land's End, I shall say something of them presently.  I must\nnow return _sur mes pas_, as the French call it; though not literally so,\nfor I shall not come back the same way I went.  But as I have coasted the\nsouth shore to the Land's End, I shall come back by the north coast, and\nmy observations in my return will furnish very well materials for another\nletter.\nAPPENDIX TO LAND'S END.\nI have ended this account at the utmost extent of the island of Great\nBritain west, without visiting those excrescences of the island, as I\nthink I may call them--viz., the rocks of Scilly; of which what is most\nfamous is their infamy or reproach; namely, how many good ships are\nalmost continually dashed in pieces there, and how many brave lives lost,\nin spite of the mariners' best skill, or the lighthouses' and other sea-\nmarks' best notice.\nThese islands lie so in the middle between the two vast openings of the\nnorth and south narrow seas (or, as the sailors call them, the Bristol\nChannel, and The Channel--so called by way of eminence) that it cannot,\nor perhaps never will, be avoided but that several ships in the dark of\nthe night and in stress of weather, may, by being out in their\nreckonings, or other unavoidable accidents, mistake; and if they do, they\nare sure, as the sailors call it, to run \"bump ashore\" upon Scilly, where\nthey find no quarter among the breakers, but are beat to pieces without\nany possibility of escape.\nOne can hardly mention the Bishop and his Clerks, as they are called, or\nthe rocks of Scilly, without letting fall a tear to the memory of Sir\nCloudesley Shovel and all the gallant spirits that were with him, at one\nblow and without a moment's warning dashed into a state of\nimmortality--the admiral, with three men-of-war, and all their men\n(running upon these rocks right afore the wind, and in a dark night)\nbeing lost there, and not a man saved.  But all our annals and histories\nare full of this, so I need say no more.\nThey tell us of eleven sail of merchant-ships homeward bound, and richly\nladen from the southward, who had the like fate in the same place a great\nmany years ago; and that some of them coming from Spain, and having a\ngreat quantity of bullion or pieces of eight on board, the money\nfrequently drives on shore still, and that in good quantities, especially\nafter stormy weather.\nThis may be the reason why, as we observed during our short stay here,\nseveral mornings after it had blown something hard in the night, the\nsands were covered with country people running to and fro to see if the\nsea had cast up anything of value.  This the seamen call \"going\na-shoring;\" and it seems they do often find good purchase.  Sometimes\nalso dead bodies are cast up here, the consequence of shipwrecks among\nthose fatal rocks and islands; as also broken pieces of ships, casks,\nchests, and almost everything that will float or roll on shore by the\nsurges of the sea.\nNor is it seldom that the voracious country people scuffle and fight\nabout the right to what they find, and that in a desperate manner; so\nthat this part of Cornwall may truly be said to be inhabited by a fierce\nand ravenous people.  For they are so greedy, and eager for the prey,\nthat they are charged with strange, bloody, and cruel dealings, even\nsometimes with one another; but especially with poor distressed seamen\nwhen they come on shore by force of a tempest, and seek help for their\nlives, and where they find the rooks themselves not more merciless than\nthe people who range about them for their prey.\nHere, also, as a farther testimony of the immense riches which have been\nlost at several times upon this coast, we found several engineers and\nprojectors--some with one sort of diving engine, and some with another;\nsome claiming such a wreck, and some such-and-such others; where they\nalleged they were assured there were great quantities of money; and\nstrange unprecedented ways were used by them to come at it: some, I say,\nwith one kind of engine, and some another; and though we thought several\nof them very strange impracticable methods, yet I was assured by the\ncountry people that they had done wonders with them under water, and that\nsome of them had taken up things of great weight and in a great depth of\nwater.  Others had split open the wrecks they had found in a manner one\nwould have thought not possible to be done so far under water, and had\ntaken out things from the very holds of the ships.  But we could not\nlearn that they had come at any pieces of eight, which was the thing they\nseemed most to aim at and depend upon; at least, they had not found any\ngreat quantity, as they said they expected.\nHowever, we left them as busy as we found them, and far from being\ndiscouraged; and if half the golden mountains, or silver mountains\neither, which they promise themselves should appear, they will be very\nwell paid for their labour.\nFrom the tops of the hills on this extremity of the land you may see out\ninto that they call the Chops of the Channel, which, as it is the\ngreatest inlet of commerce, and the most frequented by merchant-ships of\nany place in the world, so one seldom looks out to seaward but something\nnew presents--that is to say, of ships passing or repassing, either on\nthe great or lesser Channel.\nUpon a former accidental journey into this part of the country, during\nthe war with France, it was with a mixture of pleasure and horror that we\nsaw from the hills at the Lizard, which is the southern-most point of\nthis land, an obstinate fight between three French men-of-war and two\nEnglish, with a privateer and three merchant-ships in their company.  The\nEnglish had the misfortune, not only to be fewer ships of war in number,\nbut of less force; so that while the two biggest French ships engaged the\nEnglish, the third in the meantime took the two merchant-ships and went\noff with them.  As to the picaroon or privateer, she was able to do\nlittle in the matter, not daring to come so near the men-of-war as to\ntake a broadside, which her thin sides would not have been able to bear,\nbut would have sent her to the bottom at once; so that the English men-of-\nwar had no assistance from her, nor could she prevent the taking the two\nmerchant-ships.  Yet we observed that the English captains managed their\nfight so well, and their seamen behaved so briskly, that in about three\nhours both the Frenchmen stood off, and, being sufficiently banged, let\nus see that they had no more stomach to fight; after which the\nEnglish--having damage enough, too, no doubt--stood away to the eastward,\nas we supposed, to refit.\nThis point of the Lizard, which runs out to the southward, and the other\npromontory mentioned above, make the two angles--or horns, as they are\ncalled--from whence it is supposed this county received its first name of\nCornwall, or, as Mr. Camden says, _Cornubia_ in the Latin, and in the\nBritish \"Kernaw,\" as running out in two vastly extended horns.  And\nindeed it seems as if Nature had formed this situation for the direction\nof mariners, as foreknowing of what importance it should be, and how in\nfuture ages these seas should be thus thronged with merchant-ships, the\nprotection of whose wealth, and the safety of the people navigating them,\nwas so much her early care that she stretched out the land so very many\nways, and extended the points and promontories so far and in so many\ndifferent places into the sea, that the land might be more easily\ndiscovered at a due distance, which way soever the ships should come.\nNor is the Lizard Point less useful (though not so far west) than the\nother, which is more properly called the Land's End; but if we may credit\nour mariners, it is more frequently first discovered from the sea.  For\nas our mariners, knowing by the soundings when they are in the mouth of\nthe Channel, do then most naturally stand to the southward, to avoid\nmistaking the Channel, and to shun the Severn Sea or Bristol Channel, but\nstill more to avoid running upon Scilly and the rocks about it, as is\nobserved before--I say, as they carefully keep to the southward till they\nthink they are fair with the Channel, and then stand to the northward\nagain, or north-east, to make the land, this is the reason why the Lizard\nis, generally speaking, the first land they make, and not the Land's End.\nThen having made the Lizard, they either (first) run in for Falmouth,\nwhich is the next port, if they are taken short with easterly winds, or\nare in want of provisions and refreshment, or have anything out of order,\nso that they care not to keep the sea; or (secondly) stand away for the\nRam Head and Plymouth Sound; or (thirdly) keep an offing to run up the\nChannel.\nSo that the Lizard is the general guide, and of more use in these cases\nthan the other point, and is therefore the land which the ships choose to\nmake first; for then also they are sure that they are past Scilly and all\nthe dangers of that part of the island.\nNature has fortified this part of the island of Britain in a strange\nmanner, and so, as is worth a traveller's observation, as if she knew the\nforce and violence of the mighty ocean which beats upon it; and which,\nindeed, if the land was not made firm in proportion, could not withstand,\nbut would have been washed away long ago.\nFirst, there are the islands of Scilly and the rocks about them; these\nare placed like out-works to resist the first assaults of this enemy, and\nso break the force of it, as the piles (or starlings, as they are called)\nare placed before the solid stonework of London Bridge to fence off the\nforce either of the water or ice, or anything else that might be\ndangerous to the work.\nThen there are a vast number of sunk rocks (so the seamen call them),\nbesides such as are visible and above water, which gradually lessen the\nquantity of water that would otherwise lie with an infinite weight and\nforce upon the land.  It is observed that these rocks lie under water for\na great way off into the sea on every side the said two horns or points\nof land, so breaking the force of the water, and, as above, lessening the\nweight of it.\nBut besides this the whole _terra firma_, or body of the land which makes\nthis part of the isle of Britain, seems to be one solid rock, as if it\nwas formed by Nature to resist the otherwise irresistible power of the\nocean.  And, indeed, if one was to observe with what fury the sea comes\non sometimes against the shore here, especially at the Lizard Point,\nwhere there are but few, if any, out-works, as I call them, to resist it;\nhow high the waves come rolling forward, storming on the neck of one\nanother (particularly when the wind blows off sea), one would wonder that\neven the strongest rocks themselves should be able to resist and repel\nthem.  But, as I said, the country seems to be, as it were, one great\nbody of stone, and prepared so on purpose.\nAnd yet, as if all this was not enough, Nature has provided another\nstrong fence, and that is, that these vast rocks are, as it were,\ncemented together by the solid and weighty ore of tin and copper,\nespecially the last, which is plentifully found upon the very outmost\nedge of the land, and with which the stones may be said to be soldered\ntogether, lest the force of the sea should separate and disjoint them,\nand so break in upon these fortifications of the island to destroy its\nchief security.\nThis is certain--that there is a more than ordinary quantity of tin,\ncopper, and lead also placed by the Great Director of Nature in these\nvery remote angles (and, as I have said above, the ore is found upon the\nvery surface of the rocks a good way into the sea); and that it does not\nonly lie, as it were, upon or between the stones among the earth (which\nin that case might be washed from it by the sea), but that it is even\nblended or mixed in with the stones themselves, that the stones must be\nsplit into pieces to come at it.  By this mixture the rocks are made\ninfinitely weighty and solid, and thereby still the more qualified to\nrepel the force of the sea.\nUpon this remote part of the island we saw great numbers of that famous\nkind of crows which is known by the name of the Cornish cough or chough\n(so the country people call them).  They are the same kind which are\nfound in Switzerland among the Alps, and which Pliny pretended were\npeculiar to those mountains, and calls the _pyrrhocorax_.  The body is\nblack; the legs, feet, and bill of a deep yellow, almost to a red.  I\ncould not find that it was affected for any good quality it had, nor is\nthe flesh good to eat, for it feeds much on fish and carrion; it is\ncounted little better than a kite, for it is of ravenous quality, and is\nvery mischievous.  It will steal and carry away anything it finds about\nthe house that is not too heavy, though not fit for its food--as knives,\nforks, spoons, and linen cloths, or whatever it can fly away with;\nsometimes they say it has stolen bits of firebrands, or lighted candles,\nand lodged them in the stacks of corn and the thatch of barns and houses,\nand set them on fire; but this I only had by oral tradition.\nI might take up many sheets in describing the valuable curiosities of\nthis little Chersonese or Neck Land, called the Land's End, in which\nthere lies an immense treasure and many things worth notice (I mean,\nbesides those to be found upon the surface), but I am too near the end of\nthis letter.  If I have opportunity I shall take notice of some part of\nwhat I omit here in my return by the northern shore of the county.\nTWO LETTERS\nFROM THE \"JOURNEY THROUGH ENGLAND BY A GENTLEMAN.\"\n_Published in_ 1722, _but not by Defoe_.\nBATH IN 1722.\n_Bath_.\nSIR,\nThe Bath lies very low, is but a small city, but very compact, and one\ncan hardly imagine it could accommodate near the company that frequents\nit at least three parts of the year.  I have been told of 8,000 families\nthere at a time--some for the benefit of drinking its hot waters, others\nfor bathing, and others for diversion and pleasure (of which, I must say,\nit affords more than any public place of that kind in Europe).\nI told you in my former letters that Epsom and Tunbridge do not allow\nvisiting (the companies there meet only on the walks); but here visits\nare received and returned, assemblies and balls are given, and parties at\nplay in most houses every night, to which one Mr. Nash hath for many\nyears contributed very much.  This gentleman is by custom a sort of\nmaster of ceremonies of the place; he is not of any birth nor estate, but\nby a good address and assurance ingratiates himself into the good graces\nof the ladies and the best company in the place, and is director of all\ntheir parties of pleasure.  He wears good clothes, is always affluent of\nmoney, plays very much, and whatever he may get in private, yet in public\nhe always seems to lose.  The town have been for many years so sensible\nof the service he does them that they ring the bells generally at his\narrival in town, and, it is thought, pay him a yearly contribution for\nhis support.\nIn the morning early the company of both sexes meet at the Pump (in a\ngreat hall enrailed), to drink the waters and saunter about till prayer-\ntime, or divert themselves by looking on those that are bathing in the\nbath.  Most of the company go to church in the morning in dishabille, and\nthen go home to dress for the walks before dinner.  The walks are behind\nthe church, spacious and well shaded, planted round with shops filled\nwith everything that contributes to pleasure, and at the end a noble room\nfor gaming, from whence there are hanging-stairs to a pretty garden for\neverybody that pays for the time they stay, to walk in.\nI have often wondered that the physicians of these places prescribe\ngaming to their patients, in order to keep their minds free from business\nand thought, that their waters on an undisturbed mind may have the\ngreater effect, when indeed one cross-throw at play must sour a man's\nblood more than ten glasses of water will sweeten, especially for such\ngreat sums as they throw for every day at Bath.\nThe King and Queen's Baths, which have a communication with one another,\nare the baths which people of common rank go into promiscuously; and\nindeed everybody, except the first quality.  The way of going into them\nis very comical: a chair with a couple of chairmen come to your bedside\n(lie in what storey you will), and there strip you, and give you their\ndress without your shift, and wrapping you up in blankets carry you to\nthe bath.\nWhen you enter the bath, the water seems very warm; and the heat much\nincreases as you go into the Queen's Bath, where the great spring rises.\nOn a column erected over the spring is an inscription of the first finder-\nout of these springs, in the following words: that \"Bladud, the son of\nLud, found them three hundred years before Christ.\"  The smoke and slime\nof the waters, the promiscuous multitude of the people in the bath, with\nnothing but their heads and hands above water, with the height of the\nwalls that environ the bath, gave me a lively idea of several pictures I\nhad seen, of Angelo's in Italy of Purgatory, with heads and hands\nuplifted in the midst of smoke, just as they are here.  After bathing,\nyou are carried home in your chair, in the same manner you came.\nThe Cross Bath, which is used by the people of the first quality, was\nbeautified and inclosed for the convenience of the late King James's\nqueen, who after the priests and physicians had been at work to procure a\nmale successor to the throne of Great Britain, the Sacrament exposed in\nall the Roman Catholic countries, and for that end a sanctified smock\nsent from the Virgin Mary at Loretto, the queen was ordered to go to Bath\nand prepare herself, and the king to make a progress through the western\ncounties and join her there.  On his arrival at Bath, the next day after\nhis conjunction with the queen, the Earl of Melfort (then Secretary of\nState for Scotland) erected a fine prophetic monument in the middle of\nthe Bath, as an everlasting monument of that conjunction.  I call it\n\"prophetic,\" because nine months after a Prince of Wales was born.  This\nmonument is still entire and handsome, only some of the inscriptions on\nthe pillar were erased in King William's time.  The angels attending the\nHoly Ghost as He descends, the Eucharist, the Pillar, and all the\nornaments are of fine marble, and must have cost that earl a great deal\nof money.  He was second son to Drummond, Earl of Perth, in North\nBritain; and was Deputy Governor of the Castle of Edinburgh when the Duke\nand Duchess of York came to Scotland, in King Charles the Second's time.\nHe was a handsome gentleman, with a good address, and went into all the\nmeasures of that court, and at all their balls generally danced with the\nduchess; who, on their accession to the throne, sent for him up to\nLondon, made him Secretary of State for Scotland, created him Earl of\nMelfort, and Knight of the Order of St. Andrew.  His elder brother was\nalso made Chancellor and Governor of Scotland.  And on King James's\nabdication, as the two brothers followed the king's fortunes, the Earl of\nPerth was made governor to the young prince; and Melfort was created a\nduke, had the Garter, and was a great man in France to his dying day.\nThere is another bath for lepers.\nThe cathedral church is small but well lighted.  There are abundance of\nlittle monuments in it of people who come there for their health, but\nmeet with their death.\nThese waters have a wonderful influence on barren ladies, who often prove\nwith child even in their husbands' absence; who must not come near them\ntill their bodies are prepared.\nEverything looks gay and serene here; it is plentiful and cheap.  Only\nthe taverns do not much improve, for it is a place of universal sobriety.\nTo be drunk at Bath is as scandalous as mad.  Common women are not to be\nmet with here so much as at Tunbridge and Epsom.  Whether it is the\ndistance from London, or that the gentlemen fly at the highest game, I\ncannot tell; besides, everything that passes here is known on the walks,\nand the characters of persons.\nIn three hours one arrives from Bath at Bristol, a large, opulent, and\nfine city; but, notwithstanding its nearness, by the different manners of\nthe people seems to be another country.  Instead of that politeness and\ngaiety which you see at Bath, here is nothing but hurry--carts driving\nalong with merchandises, and people running about with cloudy looks and\nbusy faces.  When I came to the Exchange I was surprised to see it\nplanted round with stone pillars, with broad boss-plates on them like sun-\ndials, and coats-of-arms with inscriptions on every plate.\nThey told me that these pillars were erected by eminent merchants for the\nbenefit of writing and despatching their affairs on them, as on tables;\nand at 'Change time the merchants take each their stands by their\npillars, that masters of ships and owners may know where to find them.\nCoffee-houses and taverns lie round the 'Change, just as at London; and\nthe Bristol milk, which is Spanish sherry (nowhere so good as here), is\nplentifully drunk.\nThe city of Bristol is situated much like Verona, in Italy.  A river runs\nthrough almost the middle of it, on which there is a fine stone bridge.\nThe quay may be made the finest, largest, and longest in the world by\npulling down an old house or two.  Behind the quay is a very noble\nsquare, as large as that of Soho in London, in which is kept the Custom\nHouse; and most of the eminent merchants who keep their coaches reside\nhere.  The cathedral is on the other side of the river, on the top of the\nhill, and is the meanest I have seen in England.  But the square or green\nadjoining to it has several fine houses, and makes by its situation, in\nmy opinion, much the pleasantest part of the town.  There are some\nchurches in the city finer than the cathedral, and your merchants have\ntheir little country-seats in the adjacent eminences; of which that of\nMr. Southwell hath a very commanding prospect, both of the city, the\nRiver Severn, and the shipping that lies below.\nThere are hot springs near Bristol that are also very much frequented,\nand are reckoned to be better than the Bath for some distempers.\nA traveller when he comes to the Bath must never fail of seeing\nBadminton, belonging to the Dukes of Beaufort; nor Longleat, belonging to\nmy Lord Weymouth.  They are both within a few miles of the Bath.  King\nWilliam, when he took Badminton in his way from Ireland, told the duke\nthat he was not surprised at his not coming to court, having so sumptuous\na palace to keep a court of his own in.  And indeed the apartments are\ninferior to few royal palaces.  The parks are large, and enclosed with a\nstone wall; and that duke, whom I described to you in my letter from\nWindsor, lived up to the grandeur of a sovereign prince.  His grandson,\nwho was also Knight of the Garter, made a great figure in the reign of\nQueen Anne.  The family, which is a natural branch of the house of\nLancaster, have always distinguished themselves of the Tory side.  The\npresent duke is under age.\nLongleat, though an old seat, is very beautiful and large; and the\ngardens and avenue, being full-grown, are very beautiful and well kept.\nIt cost the late Lord Weymouth a good revenue in hospitality to such\nstrangers as came from Bath to see it.\nThe biggest and most regular house in England was built near Bristol by\nthe late Lord Stawell; but it being judged by his heirs to be too big for\nthe estate, they are pulling it down and selling the materials.\nAs the weather grows good, I shall proceed through South Wales to\nChester, from whence you shall soon hear from me, who am without reserve,\nsir, your most humble, &c.\nFROM CHESTER TO HOLYHEAD.\n_Chester_.\nSIR,\nI crossed the Severn at the ferry of Ash, about ten miles above Bristol,\nand got to Monmouth to dinner through a rugged, indifferent country.  It\nis a pitiful old town, and hath nothing remarkable in it; and from thence\nthrough a fat fertile country I got to the city of Hereford at night.\nHereford is the dirtiest old city I have seen in England, yet pretty\nlarge; the streets are irregular and the houses old, and its cathedral a\nreverend old pile, but not beautiful; the niches of the walls of the\nchurch are adorned with the figures of its bishops as big as the life, in\na cumbent posture, with the year of their interments newly painted over.\nSome of them are in the twelve hundredth year of Christ.  Here they drink\nnothing but cider, which is very cheap and very good; and the very hedges\nin the country are planted with apple-trees.  About three miles from\nHereford in my road to Ludlow I saw a fine old seat called Hampton Court,\nbelonging to my Lord Coningsby.  The plantations on rising grounds round\nit give an august splendour to the house, which consists of an oval court\nwith suitable offices, not unlike an house belonging to the Duke of\nSomerset near London; and from thence in a few hours I arrived at Ludlow,\nthe capital of South Wales, and where the Princes of Wales formerly, and\nsince them the Presidents of Wales, kept their courts.\nLudlow is one of the neatest, clean, pretty towns in England.  The street\nby which you enter the town is spacious, with handsome houses\nsash-windowed on each side, which leads you by an ascent to the castle on\nthe left of the top of the hill, and the church on the right, from whence\nthere runs also another handsome street.  The castle hath a very\ncommanding prospect of the adjacent country; the offices in the outer\ncourt are falling down, and a great part of the court is turned into a\nbowling-green; but the royal apartments in the castle, with some old\nvelvet furniture and a sword of state, are still left.  There is also a\nneat little chapel; but the vanity of the Welsh gentry when they were\nmade councillors has spoiled it by adorning it with their names and arms,\nof which it is full.\nA small expense would still make this castle a habitable and beautiful\nplace, lying high, and overlooking a fine country; there is also a fine\nprospect from the churchyard, and the church is very neat.  I saw\nabundance of pretty ladies here, and well dressed, who came from the\nadjacent counties, for the convenience and cheapness of boarding.\nProvisions of all sorts are extremely plentiful and cheap here, and very\ngood company.\nI stayed some days here, to make an excursion into South Wales and know a\nlittle of the manners of the country, as I design to do at Chester for\nNorth Wales.  The gentry are very numerous, exceedingly civil to\nstrangers, if you don't come to purchase and make your abode amongst\nthem.  They live much like Gascoynes--affecting their own language,\nvaluing themselves much on the antiquity of their families, and are proud\nof making entertainments.\nThe Duke of Powis, of the name of Herbert, hath a noble seat near this\ntown, but I was not at it; the family followed King James's fortunes to\nFrance, and I suppose the seat lies neglected.  From Ludlow in a short\nday's riding through a champaign country I arrived at the town of\nShrewsbury.\nShrewsbury stands upon an eminence, encircled by the Severn like a horse-\nshoe; the streets are large, and the houses well built.  My Lord Newport,\nson to the Earl of Bradford, hath a handsome palace, with hanging gardens\ndown to the river; as also Mr. Kinnaston, and some other gentlemen.  There\nis a good town-house, and the most coffee-houses round it that ever I saw\nin any town; but when you come into them, they are but ale-houses (only\nthey think that the name of coffee-house gives a better air).  King\nCharles would have made them a city, but they chose rather to remain a\ncorporation, as they are, for which they were called the \"proud\nSalopians.\"  There is a great deal of good company in this town, for the\nconvenience of cheapness; and there are assemblies and balls for the\nyoung ladies once a week.  The Earl of Bradford and several others have\nhandsome seats near it; from hence I came to Wrexham, in Wales, a\nbeautiful market-town; the church is the beautifullest country church in\nEngland, and surpasses some cathedrals.  I counted fifty-two statues as\nbig as the life in the steeple or tower, which is built after the manner\nof your Dutch steeples, and as high as any there.  I was there on a\nmarket-day, and was particularly pleased to see the Welsh ladies come to\nmarket in their laced hats, their own hair hanging round their shoulders,\nand blue and scarlet cloaks like our Amazons--some of them with a\ngreyhound in a string in their hands.\nWhitchurch, near it, hath a fine church, built by the Earl of Bridgwater;\nand so to Chester, an ancient and large city, with a commanding castle.\nThe city consists of four large streets, which make an exact cross, with\nthe town-house and Exchange in the middle; but you don't walk the streets\nhere, but in galleries up one pair of stairs, which keeps you from the\nrain in winter, and sun in summer; and the houses and shops, with\ngardens, go all off these galleries, which they call rows.  The city is\nwalled round, and the wall so firmly paved that it gives you an agreeable\nprospect of the country and river, as you walk upon it.  The churches are\nvery neat, and the cathedral an august old pile; there is an ancient\nmonument of an Emperor of Germany, with assemblies every week.  While I\ncontinued at Chester, I made an excursion into North Wales, and went into\nDenbigh, the capital of that country, where are the remains of a very\ngreat and old castle, as is also at Flint, the capital of Flintshire.\nThese castles were the frontier garrisons of Wales before it came under\nthe subjection of England.  The country is mountainous, and full of iron\nand lead works; and here they begin to differ from the English both in\nlanguage and dress.\nFrom Flint, along the seaside, in three hours I arrived at the famous\ncold bath called St. Winifred's Well; and the town from thence called\nHolywell is a pretty large well-built village, in the middle of a grove,\nin a bottom between, two hills.  The well is in the foot of one of the\nhills, and spouts out about the bigness of a barrel at once, with such\nforce that it turns three or four mills before it falls into the sea.  The\nwell where you bathe is floored with stone surrounded with pillars, on\nwhich stands a neat little chapel dedicated to St. Winifred, but now\nturned into a Protestant school.  However, to supply the loss of this\nchapel, the Roman Catholics have chapels erected almost in every inn for\nthe devotion of the pilgrims that flock hither from all the Popish parts\nof England.  The water, you may imagine, is very cold, coming from the\nbowels of an iron mountain, and never having met with the influence of\nthe sun till it runs from the well.\nThe legend of St. Winifred is too long and ridiculous for a letter; I\nleave you to Dr. Fleetwood (when Bishop of St. Asaph) for its\ndescription.  I will only tell you, in two words, that this St. Winifred\nwas a beautiful damsel that lived on the top of the hill; that a prince\nof the country fell deeply in love with her; that coming one day when her\nparents were abroad, and she resisting his passion, turned into rage, and\nas she was flying from him cut off her head, which rolled down the hill\nwith her body, and at the place where it stopped gushed out this well of\nwater.  But there was also a good hermit that lived at the bottom of the\nhill, who immediately claps her head to her body, and by the force of the\nwater and his prayers she recovered, and lived to perform many miracles\nfor many years after.  They give you her printed litanies at the well.\nAnd I observed the Roman Catholics in their prayers, not with eyes lifted\nup to heaven, but intent upon the water, as if it were the real blood of\nSt. Winifred that was to wash them clean from all their sins.\nIn every inn you meet with a priest, habited like country gentlemen, and\nvery good companions.  At the \"Cross Keys,\" where I lodged, there was one\nthat had been marked out to me, to whom I was particularly civil at\nsupper; but finding by my conversation I was none of them, he drank and\nswore like a dragoon, on purpose, as I imagine, to disguise himself.  From\nHolywell in two hours I came to a handsome seat of Sir John Conway's at\nRedland, and next day to Conway.\nI do not know any place in Europe that would make a finer landscape in a\npicture than Conway at a mile's distance.  It lies on the side of a hill,\non the banks of an arm of the sea about the breadth of the Thames at\nLondon, and within two little miles of the sea, over which we ferry to go\nto the town.\nThe town is walled round, with thirty watch-towers at proper distances on\nthe walls; and the castle with its towers, being very white, makes an\naugust show at a distance, being surrounded with little hills on both\nsides of the bay or river, covered with wood.  But when you cross the\nferry and come into the town, there is nothing but poverty and misery.\nThe castle is a heap of rubbish uncovered, and these towers on the walls\nonly standing vestiges of what Wales was when they had a prince of their\nown.\nThey speak all Welsh here, and if a stranger should lose his way in this\ncounty of Carnarvon, it is ten to one if he meets with any one that has\nEnglish enough to set him right.  The people are also naturally very\nsurly, and even if they understand English, if you ask them a question\ntheir answer is, \"Dame Salsenach,\" or \"I cannot speak Saxon or English.\"\nTheir Bibles and prayer-books are all printed in Welsh in our character;\nso that an Englishman can read their language, although he doth not\nunderstand a word of it.  It hath a great resemblance of the Bas-Bretons,\nbut they retain the letter and character as well as language, as the\nScots and Highlanders do.\nThey retain several Popish customs in North Wales, for on Sunday (after\nmorning service) the whole parish go to football till the afternoon\nservice begins, and then they go to the ale-house and play at all manner\nof games (which ale-house is often kept by the parson, for their livings\nare very small).\nThey have also offerings at funerals, which is one of the greatest\nperquisites the parson hath.  When the body is deposited in the church\nduring the service for the dead, every person invited to the burial lays\na piece of money upon the altar to defray the dead person's charges to\nthe other world, which, after the ceremony is over, the parson puts in\nhis pocket.  From Conway, through the mountainous country of Carnarvon, I\npassed the famous mountain of Penmaen-Mawr, so dreadfully related by\npassengers travelling to Ireland.  It is a road cut out of the side of\nthe rock, seven feet wide; the sea lies perpendicularly down, about forty\nfathoms on one side, and the mountain is about the same height above it\non the other side.  It looks dismal, but not at all dangerous, for there\nis now a wall breast-high along the precipice.  However, there is an ale-\nhouse at the bottom of the hill on the other side, with this inscription,\n\"Now your fright is over, take a dram.\"  From hence I proceeded to a\nlittle town called Bangor, where there is a cathedral such as may be\nexpected in Wales; and from thence to Carnarvon, the capital of the\ncounty.  Here are the vestiges of a large old castle, where one of the\nHenrys, King of England, was born; as was another at Monmouth, in South\nWales.  For the Welsh were so hard to be reconciled to their union with\nEngland at first, it was thought policy to send our queens to lie-in\nthere, to make our princes Welshmen born, and that way ingratiate the\ninhabitants to their subjection to a prince born in their own country.\nAnd for that reason our kings to this day wear a leek (the badge of\nWales) on St. David's Day, the patron of this country; as they do the\nOrder of the Thistle on St. Andrew's Day, the patron of Scotland.\nCarnarvon is a pretty little town, situated in the bottom of a bay, and\nmight be a place of good trade, if the country afforded a consumption.\nThe sea flows quite round from Bangor to Carnarvon Bay, which separates\nAnglesea from the rest of Wales, and makes it an island.  Beaumaris, the\ncapital of the island, hath been a flourishing town; there are still two\nvery good streets, and the remains of a very large castle.  The Lord\nBulkeley hath a noble ancient seat planted with trees on the side of the\nhill above the town, from whence one hath a fine prospect of the bay and\nadjacent country; the church is very handsome, and there are some fine\nancient monuments of that family and some Knights Templars in it.  The\nfamily of Bulkeley keep in their family a large silver goblet, with which\nthey entertain their friends, with an inscription round relating to the\nroyal family when in distress, which is often remembered by the\nneighbouring gentry, whose affections run very much that way all over\nWales.\nI went from hence to Glengauny, the ancient residence of Owen Tudor, but\nnow belongs to the Bulkeleys, and to be sold.  It is a good old house,\nand I believe never was larger.  There is a vulgar error in this country\nthat Owen Tudor was married to a Queen of England, and that the house of\nYork took that surname from him; whereas the Queen of England that was\nmarried to him was a daughter of the King of France and dowager of\nEngland, and had no relation to the Crown; he had indeed two daughters by\nher, that were married into English noble families--to one of which Henry\nVII. was related.  But Owen Tudor was neither of the blood of the Princes\nof Wales himself, nor gave descent to that of the English.  He was a\nprivate gentleman, of about 3,000 pounds a year, who came to seek his\nfortune at the English court, and the queen fell in love with him.\nI was invited to a cock-match some miles from Glengauny, where were above\nforty gentlemen, most of them of the names of Owen, Parry, and Griffith;\nthey fought near twenty battles, and every battle a cock was killed.\nTheir cocks are doubtless the finest in the world; and the gentlemen,\nafter they were a little heated with liquor, were as warm as their cocks.\nA great deal of bustle and noise grew by degrees after dinner was over;\nbut their scolding was all in Welsh, and civilities in English.  We had a\nvery great dinner; and the house (called The College) where we dined was\nbuilt very comically; it is four storeys high, built on the side of a\nhill, and the stable is in the garret.  There is a broad stone staircase\non the outside of the house, by which you enter into the several\napartments.  The kitchen is at the bottom of the hill, a bedchamber above\nthat, the parlour (where we dined) is the third storey, and on the top of\nthe hill is the stable.\nFrom hence I stepped over to Holyhead, where the packet-boats arrive from\nIreland.  It is a straggling, confused heap of thatched houses built on\nrocks; yet within doors there are in several of them very good\naccommodation for passengers, both in lodging and diet.\nThe packet-boats from Dublin arrive thrice a week, and are larger than\nthose to Holland and France, fitted with all conveniences for passengers;\nand indeed St. George's Channel requires large ships in winter, the wind\nbeing generally very boisterous in these narrow seas.\nOn my return to Chester I passed over the mountain called Penmaen Ross,\nwhere I saw plainly a part of Ireland, Scotland, England, and the Isle of\nMan all at once.\nPrinted by Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, London, E.C.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  From London to Land's End\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " Finnish\n", "content": "Produced by Johanna Kankaanp\u00e4\u00e4 and Tapio Riikonen\nROBINSON CRUSOE\nKirj.\nDaniel Defoe\nSuomentanut Samuli S.\nIlmestynyt ensimm\u00e4isen kerran suomen kielell\u00e4\nKustannusosakeyhti\u00f6 Otavan kustantamana 1905.\nEnsimm\u00e4inen luku\nRobinsonin syntyper\u00e4. -- Halu merille. -- Vanhempain varoitukset. --\nK\u00e4ynti Hullissa. -- L\u00e4ht\u00f6 merelle. -- Myrsky. Haaksirikko. -- Ei\nviel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n kotia.\nSynnyin vuonna 1632 Yorkin kaupungissa Englannissa. Bremenist\u00e4\nkotoisin oleva is\u00e4ni oli ensin asettunut kauppiaaksi Hulliin, p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt\nsiell\u00e4 varoihinsa ja siirtynyt sittemmin Yorkiin, jossa h\u00e4n vietti\nhiljaista el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n meni naimisiin \u00e4itini kanssa, joka oli\nomaa sukua Robinson ja jonka mukaan min\u00e4 sain nimeni. Sukunimemme oli\nKreutznaer, mutta koska Englannissa nimi\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4nnell\u00e4\u00e4n ja v\u00e4\u00e4nnell\u00e4\u00e4n,\nniin tuli meid\u00e4n nimeksemme Crusoe, ja niinp\u00e4 nyt itsekin nimeni\nkirjoitan.\nMinulla oli ollut kaksi velje\u00e4. Toinen palveli everstiluutnanttina\nenglantilaisessa jalkav\u00e4ess\u00e4 ja kaatui Dunkerquen taistelussa. Toinen\noli jo aikaisin l\u00e4htenyt kotoa maailmalle; en ole h\u00e4nest\u00e4 milloinkaan\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n kuullut, eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 vanhempammekaan saaneet h\u00e4nest\u00e4 sen j\u00e4lkeen\nmink\u00e4\u00e4nlaisia tietoja.\nIs\u00e4, vanhan kansan miehi\u00e4, oli kouluttanut minua, kolmatta poikaansa,\ns\u00e4\u00e4tymme mukaisesti. H\u00e4n halusi minusta lakimiest\u00e4, mutta minun\nmieleni -- jo aikaisin t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 kaikenlaisia haaveiluja ja\npilventavoitteluja -- paloi kovasti merille. En ottanut kuuleviin\nkorviinikaan is\u00e4n neuvoja, en \u00e4idin rukouksia enk\u00e4 sukulaisten\nvaroituksia. Minulle oli jo mennyt veriin tuo kovan onnen mielihalu,\njoka vastustamatta veti minua ankaria koettelemuksia kohti.\nKerran taas is\u00e4 kutsui minut huoneeseensa, josta h\u00e4n kovalta\nleinilt\u00e4ns\u00e4 ei p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt mihink\u00e4\u00e4n. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n sitten yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti ja\nsamalla vakavasti otti puheeksi omituisen mielihaluni ja pyrkimykseni.\nH\u00e4n selitti minulle varsin vakuuttavalla tavalla, kuinka muille maille\nseikkailemaan pyrkiv\u00e4t ainoastaan ne, jotka taloudellisesti ovat aivan\nrappiolla, ja ne, jotka ovat hyvin varakkaita. Kotoa ja pois omasta\nmaasta he tahtovat p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4kseen aivan tavallisuudesta poikkeavia teit\u00e4\nmy\u00f6ten rikkauteen tai kunnian kukkuloille. Moiset yritykset olivat\nis\u00e4n mielest\u00e4 minulle sek\u00e4 liian halvat ett\u00e4 liian korkeat.\n-- Sin\u00e4 olet keskis\u00e4\u00e4dyn lapsia, puheli h\u00e4n, -- ja min\u00e4 olen pitk\u00e4n\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ni aikana kokenut, ett\u00e4 keskis\u00e4\u00e4ty se juuri on paras kaikista: ei\nsiin\u00e4 ole alhaisen s\u00e4\u00e4dyn raskasta raatamista vaikeine vastuksineen ja\nmonine murheineen, eik\u00e4 sit\u00e4 toiselta puolen kalva ylh\u00e4isen s\u00e4\u00e4dyn\nylpeys, m\u00e4ss\u00e4ys, kunnianhimo ja kateus. T\u00e4m\u00e4n keskis\u00e4\u00e4dyn\nonnellisuutta kaikki kadehtivat, ja moni kuningaskin, korkeata\nasemaansa tuskitellen, soisi olevansa juuri tuossa keskiv\u00e4liss\u00e4. Sen\nonnellisuuttahan todistaa sekin viisas mies, joka rukoili Jumalalta:\n\u00c4l\u00e4 anna minulle k\u00f6yhyytt\u00e4 \u00e4l\u00e4k\u00e4 rikkautta.\nH\u00e4n selitti edelleen, kuinka minun ei ole pakko l\u00e4hte\u00e4 maailman\nmarkkinoille ep\u00e4varmaan leiv\u00e4nhankintaan. H\u00e4n pit\u00e4isi huolta siit\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 murheitta saattaisin valmistua h\u00e4nen ehdottamaansa ammattiin. H\u00e4n\ntekisi kaiken voitavansa auttaakseen ja kannattaakseen minua, jos\nkotona pysyisin, mutta jos pois l\u00e4hden, h\u00e4n ei mill\u00e4\u00e4n muotoa tahdo\nedist\u00e4\u00e4 minun sy\u00f6ksymist\u00e4ni turmioon. Niin h\u00e4n oli varoitellut\nvanhintakin poikaansa l\u00e4htem\u00e4st\u00e4 sotaan Alankomaihin, mutta sinnep\u00e4\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 vain l\u00e4ksi ja sodassa sai surmansakin.\n-- En min\u00e4, virkkoi is\u00e4 vihdoin, -- en min\u00e4 lakkaa sinun puolestasi\nrukoilemasta, mutta sen sanon, ett\u00e4 jos toteutat mielett\u00f6m\u00e4n aikeesi,\nei Jumala anna sinulle siunaustaan, ja joskus, kun olet yp\u00f6yksin,\navutonna ja neuvotonna, muistat viel\u00e4, ett\u00e4 hylk\u00e4sit is\u00e4n neuvot.\nJa vanha is\u00e4ni purskahti itkuun t\u00e4ten puhuessaan. H\u00e4nen ennustuksensa\noli k\u00e4yv\u00e4 toteen.\nIs\u00e4n vakava varoitus ja \u00e4idinkin neuvot saivat hetkeksi hillityksi\nmatkustushaluni. Mutta ei kulunut vuottakaan, niin jo panin aikeeni\ntoimeen.\nSattumalta l\u00e4ksin kerran Hulliin. Aikomukseni ei ollut tosin l\u00e4hte\u00e4\nsielt\u00e4 karkuteille, mutta niin kuitenkin k\u00e4vi. Siell\u00e4 tapasin er\u00e4\u00e4n\nentisen koulutoverini, joka juuri oli l\u00e4hd\u00f6ss\u00e4 is\u00e4ns\u00e4 laivalla\nLontooseen. H\u00e4n houkutteli minua mukaan k\u00e4ytt\u00e4en merimiesten\ntavallista sy\u00f6tti\u00e4: p\u00e4\u00e4set ilmaiseksi. Ja silloin, vanhemmiltani lupaa\nkysym\u00e4tt\u00e4, l\u00e4hd\u00f6st\u00e4ni heille edes tietoa antamatta, kokonaan sattuman\nvaraan j\u00e4tt\u00e4en, saisivatko he minusta sanomaa lainkaan, Jumalan ja\nvanhempain siunausta vailla ja tekoni seurauksia sen enemp\u00e4\u00e4\nharkitsematta l\u00f6in k\u00e4tt\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4lle. Niinp\u00e4 min\u00e4 kovan onnen hetken\u00e4\nJumala paratkoon! -- astuin laivaan syyskuun 1. p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 1651.\nNuoren seikkailijan k\u00e4rsimykset eiv\u00e4t luullakseni milloinkaan ole\nalkaneet sen aikaisemmin ja kest\u00e4neet sen kauemmin kuin minun.\nTuskin oli laiva l\u00e4htenyt satamasta, niin jo nousi tuuli. Ankara\naallokko alkoi k\u00e4yd\u00e4, ja ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 min\u00e4, ensikertalainen merell\u00e4,\nrupesin voimaan pahoin. Ja siin\u00e4k\u00f6s min\u00e4 miettim\u00e4\u00e4n mielet\u00f6nt\u00e4\ntekoani: t\u00e4m\u00e4h\u00e4n on selv\u00e4\u00e4 Jumalan rangaistusta tottelemattomalle\npojalle! Is\u00e4n itku ja \u00e4idin varoitukset muistuivat nyt el\u00e4v\u00e4sti\nmieleen, ja omatunto nuhteli minua ankarasti. Se ei silloin viel\u00e4\nollut enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt paatua, niin kuin my\u00f6hemmin k\u00e4vi.\nTuuli yltyi v\u00e4hitellen kovaksi myrskyksi. Jokainen aalto oli\nmielest\u00e4ni niin kauhean korkea, ett\u00e4 tuntui kuin laiva joka hetki\nolisi sy\u00f6ksem\u00e4ss\u00e4 sen syliin. Joka kerta kun painuttiin aallon pohjaan\nluulin, ettei en\u00e4\u00e4 harjalle p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. T\u00e4ss\u00e4 kuoleman tuskassa tein\nsen tuhannetkin lupaukset: jos Jumala minut t\u00e4st\u00e4 viel\u00e4 hengiss\u00e4\nauttaa kuivalle maalle, niin rienn\u00e4n kotiin suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 enk\u00e4 ikin\u00e4\nen\u00e4\u00e4 laivaan astu; palaan kotiin kuin tuhlaajapoika muinoin.\nN\u00e4it\u00e4 viisaita ja j\u00e4rkevi\u00e4 ajatuksia kesti niin kauan kuin myrsky\u00e4kin.\nSit\u00e4 mukaa kuin seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tuulen raivo vaimeni, sit\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n\nmin\u00e4kin totuin merell\u00e4oloon. Illalla tuuli tyyntyi, taivas kirkastui,\nja ilma oli mit\u00e4 ihanin. Aurinko laski mereen t\u00e4ydess\u00e4 loistossaan, ja\nseuraavana aamuna se nousi sielt\u00e4 yht\u00e4 komeana. Tuuli tuskin lainkaan\nliikutteli meren v\u00e4lkkyv\u00e4\u00e4 pintaa. N\u00e4ky oli vieh\u00e4tt\u00e4vin, mit\u00e4 silmieni\neteen milloinkaan oli auennut.\nKatsellessani ihaillen ja ihmetellen kaunista merta, joka viel\u00e4 eilen\noli ollut niin raivoisa ja kauhea, tuli yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni luokseni.\n-- No Bob! virkkoi h\u00e4n. -- Milt\u00e4s tuntuu? Kai sinua eilinen tuulen\ntuhaus hieman s\u00e4ikytti?\n-- Vai tuhaus vain? vastasin min\u00e4. -- Seh\u00e4n oli hirmuinen myrsky.\n-- Sek\u00f6? Voi sinua, poika parka! Eih\u00e4n sellainen ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n, kun laiva\non luja ja ollaan v\u00e4ljill\u00e4 vesill\u00e4. Mutta sin\u00e4h\u00e4n oletkin vain\nsemmoinen maakrapu. Tule pois! Tehd\u00e4\u00e4n punssia ja unohdetaan kaikki\nvaivat ja vatsanv\u00e4\u00e4nteet. Katsos nyt, miten kaunis ilma tuli!\nNiin tehtiinkin sitten, oikein aimo merimiesten tapaan. Ja sen y\u00f6n\nhummauksiin minulta hukkui katumus ja kaikki parannuksen aikeet.\nTiess\u00e4\u00e4n olivat taas vahvat valat ja lujat lupaukset. Ja niinp\u00e4\nviiden, kuuden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua olin saanut omantuntoni \u00e4\u00e4nen kokonaan\nvaikenemaan.\nKuudentena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 saavuttiin Yarmouthin ulkopuolelle. Siell\u00e4 meid\u00e4n\nt\u00e4ytyi sopimattoman lounaistuulen t\u00e4hden laskea ankkuri ja viipy\u00e4\nseitsem\u00e4s ja kahdeksas p\u00e4iv\u00e4. Sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin oli ulapalle tullut\nNewcastlesta koko joukko muitakin laivoja parempaa tuulta odottamaan.\nMe olisimme nousuveden mukana kyll\u00e4 pyrkineet satamaan, mutta kun\ntuuli oli vastainen, emme p\u00e4\u00e4sseet. Ulappakin oli sent\u00e4\u00e4n varsin\nturvallinen olopaikka, niin ett\u00e4 huoleti kelluimme siin\u00e4 ankkurin\nvarassa. Tuuli yltyi kuitenkin yltymist\u00e4\u00e4n ja oli kahdeksannen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\naamulla taas kiihtynyt ankaraksi myrskyksi. Puolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikaan\nalkoivat jo aallot vy\u00f6ry\u00e4 laivan yli. Varmemmaksi vakuudeksi kapteeni\nk\u00e4ski laskea keula-ankkurin.\nMyrskyn raivo k\u00e4vi yh\u00e4 hirve\u00e4mm\u00e4ksi. Merimiesten kasvoilla kuvastui\nkauhuja h\u00e4mm\u00e4stys. Kuulin kuinka kapteenikin ohitseni kulkiessaan\nvirkkoi: \"Jumala armahtakoon meit\u00e4! Hukka meid\u00e4t t\u00e4ss\u00e4 perii joka\nmiehen!\" Kahdesta l\u00e4heisest\u00e4, raskaslastisesta laivasta olivat mastot\nmenneet poikki. Meid\u00e4n merimiehemme huusivat toisilleen, ett\u00e4\nmeripeninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 meist\u00e4 muuan laiva oli tehnyt haaksirikon.\nKaksi muuta laivaa oli mastot menetetty\u00e4\u00e4n ajautunut kauas ulapalle.\nIllan suussa per\u00e4mies ja ylipuosu kysyiv\u00e4t kapteenilta, eik\u00f6 olisi\nparasta hakata kokkamasto poikki. Kapteeni ei olisi suostunut siihen,\nmutta kun ylipuosu vakuutti, ett\u00e4 laiva muutoin joutuu haaksirikkoon,\nh\u00e4n vihdoin my\u00f6ntyi. Kokkamaston j\u00e4lkeen t\u00e4ytyi pian hakata poikki\np\u00e4\u00e4mastokin.\nSanomattakin on selv\u00e4\u00e4, kuinka kauhistunut min\u00e4, ensikertalainen,\nkaikesta tuosta olin. Paljon enemm\u00e4n kuin kuolemanpelko ahdisti minua\nse ajatus, ett\u00e4 niin jumalattomasti olin luopunut \u00e4skeisist\u00e4 hyvist\u00e4\naikeistani. Ja myrsky vain pauhasi niin vimmatusti, ett\u00e4 sain n\u00e4hd\u00e4,\nmit\u00e4 harvoin n\u00e4kee: kapteeni, ylipuosu ja muutamat merimiehetkin\nolivat polvillaan rukoilemassa pel\u00e4ten joka hetki laivan suistuvan\nmeren pohjaan. Puoleny\u00f6n aikana ilmoitti er\u00e4s merimies, ett\u00e4 laiva oli\nsaanut vuodon: ruumassa oli jo nelj\u00e4 jalkaa vett\u00e4. Koko v\u00e4ki riensi\npumpuille; siihen ty\u00f6h\u00f6n minutkin pakotettiin ja parastani koetin\npannakin. Ei aikaakaan, niin jo k\u00e4ski kapteeni ampua h\u00e4t\u00e4laukauksen.\nKun en ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4nyt sen merkityst\u00e4, luulin laivan lohjenneen kahtia ja\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4hdin niin, ett\u00e4 menin tainnoksiin.\nMyrsky alkoi hieman heiket\u00e4, mutta vett\u00e4 pulppusi laivaan niin\nkovasti, ettei ollut toivoakaan satamaan p\u00e4\u00e4semisest\u00e4. H\u00e4t\u00e4laukauksia\nammuttiin edelleen, kunnes vihdoin muuan kevyt alus, joka sattui\najelehtimaan l\u00e4hell\u00e4 meit\u00e4, uskalsi laskea veneen meit\u00e4 kohti, mutta\nsen oli kuitenkin mahdotonta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 meid\u00e4n laivamme viereen. Meilt\u00e4\nheitettiin vihdoin ankkuripoijulla varustettu k\u00f6ysi veneeseen.\nSoutajat ottivat siit\u00e4 kiinni, ja siten saatiin vene laivan kylkeen,\nmink\u00e4 j\u00e4lkeen me kaikki laskeuduimme veneeseen. Koska nyt ei\nkuitenkaan ollut mahdollista en\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 sen laivan luo, josta meille\noli apua l\u00e4hetetty, p\u00e4\u00e4tettiin j\u00e4tt\u00e4yty\u00e4 tuulen ja aaltojen varaan ja\nkoettaa suunnata vene rantaa kohti. Kapteeni lupasi korvata veneen,\njos se sattuisi rannalla s\u00e4rkym\u00e4\u00e4n. Vuoroin soutaen, vuoroin antaen\naaltojen vied\u00e4 venett\u00e4 saavuttiin vihdoin l\u00e4helle rantaa Wintertonin\nniemen l\u00e4hell\u00e4.\nTuskin olimme olleet veneess\u00e4 nelj\u00e4nnestuntiakaan, kun jo n\u00e4imme\nlaivamme vaipuvan mereen.\nAallonharjoille noustessamme n\u00e4imme koko joukon ihmisi\u00e4 juoksentelevan\nedestakaisin meren rannalla, valmiina auttamaan meit\u00e4. Maihin emme\nkuitenkaan voineet viel\u00e4 laskea, ennen kuin olimme kiert\u00e4neet\nWintertonin majakkaniemen. Siell\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4simme hiukan tuulen suojaan,\nlaskimme sitten onnellisesti maihin ja l\u00e4ksimme sielt\u00e4 jalkaisin\nYarmouthiin, jossa meid\u00e4t otettiin yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti vastaan. Kaupungin\nviranomaiset majoittivat meid\u00e4t parhaimpansa mukaan, ja kauppiaat ja\nlaivanvarustajat toimittivat meille rahaa, jotta voimme palata joko\nHulliin tai jatkaa matkaa Lontooseen.\nJos nyt olisin ollut niin j\u00e4rkev\u00e4, ett\u00e4 olisin l\u00e4htenyt takaisin\nkotiin, olisi is\u00e4 varmaankin minun palaamiseni johdosta, aivan niin\nkuin Vapahtaja vertauksessaan sanoo, teurastuttanut juotetun vasikan.\nMutta kova kohtalo ajoi minua vastustamattomalla voimalla yh\u00e4 kauemmas\nkotoa. J\u00e4rki ja omatunto kyll\u00e4 k\u00e4skiv\u00e4t palaamaan, mutta minussa ei\nollut sen vertaa tarmoa, ett\u00e4 olisin niit\u00e4 totellut. Pois minun t\u00e4ytyi\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 vain, yh\u00e4 kauemmas.\nToinen luku\nKaksi matkaa Guineaan, toinen onnellinen, toinen onneton. --\nMaurilaisten orjana. -- Pako Xuryn kanssa. -- Leijona.\nKoska minulla oli hiukan rahaa taskussani, l\u00e4hdin jalkaisin\nLontooseen.\nMatkalla sinne sek\u00e4 perill\u00e4 sain taas taistella monet kovat taistelut\nitseni kanssa. Mille uralle nyt antautuisin? K\u00e4\u00e4ntyisink\u00f6 kotiin vai\nmenisink\u00f6 merille j\u00e4lleen? Kovin minua h\u00e4vetti palata takaisin.\nKuvittelin mieless\u00e4ni, miten joutuisin kaikkien naapurieni\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4stelt\u00e4v\u00e4ksi ja miten masentavaa olisi astua vanhempieni ja\ntuttavieni silmien eteen. Sittemmin olen usein huomannut, kuinka\nmielett\u00f6mi\u00e4 ja lyhytj\u00e4rkisi\u00e4 ihmiset ovat varsinkin nuoruutensa\np\u00e4ivin\u00e4: ei heit\u00e4 synti h\u00e4vet\u00e4, mutta synnin katumus kyll\u00e4: ei teko,\njoka heit\u00e4 halventaa, vaan parannus, joka heid\u00e4t j\u00e4lleen kohottaisi.\nNeuvottomana ep\u00e4r\u00f6in ja emmin jonkin aikaa, kunnes muisto\nvastakestetyist\u00e4 vastuksista v\u00e4hitellen himmeni ja h\u00e4lveni ja sen\nmukana koti-ik\u00e4v\u00e4kin. Entinen seikkailunhalu sai minussa j\u00e4lleen\nvallan ja saattoi minut yrityksiin, joista my\u00f6hemmin seurasi sulaa\nturmiota.\nAstuin laivaan, jonka oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 purjehtia Afrikan it\u00e4rannikolle eli,\nniin kuin merimiehet meill\u00e4 sanovat, k\u00e4yd\u00e4 Guineassa.\nSiin\u00e4 tein tyhm\u00e4sti, etten jo alun pit\u00e4en pestautunut laivamieheksi.\nSiten minun olisi kyll\u00e4 ollut pakko tehd\u00e4 raskasta ty\u00f6t\u00e4, mutta\nsamalla olisin juurta jaksaen perehtynyt merimiehen ammattiin. Minusta\nolisi aikaa voittaen saattanut tulla per\u00e4mies, luutnantti, vaikkapa\nmerikapteenikin. Mutta kohtaloni oli valita aina pahin osa. Olihan\nminulla hyv\u00e4 nuttu yll\u00e4ni ja rahaakin taskussani. Herroiksi sit\u00e4 siis\nmentiin laivaan, tyhj\u00e4ntoimittajaksi.\nLontoossa olin tutustunut er\u00e4\u00e4seen laivankapteeniin, rehelliseen,\nkunnon mieheen, joka vastik\u00e4\u00e4n oli palannut Guineasta. H\u00e4nen oli\nsiell\u00e4 onnistunut tehd\u00e4 edullisia kauppoja, ja sinne h\u00e4n aikoi pian\npalatakin. Kuultuaan ett\u00e4 minun mieleni teki p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 matkustamaan h\u00e4n\npyysi minua toverikseen ja seuralaisekseen tarjoten minulle vapaan\nmatkan. H\u00e4n neuvoi minua ottamaan mukaani jonkin verran sellaisia\nkauppatavaroita, joilla siell\u00e4p\u00e4in on hyv\u00e4 menekki. Kirjoitin\nkotiseudulleni muutamille yst\u00e4villeni ja sain sielt\u00e4 yhteens\u00e4\nnelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4 puntaa. Niill\u00e4 rahoilla ostin sitten kapteenin neuvon\nmukaan kaikenlaista rihkamaa.\nPian l\u00e4hdettiin matkalle, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 olikin minun matkoistani ainoa, joka\ntuotti minulle hy\u00f6ty\u00e4. Yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni kapteenin johdolla perehdyin jossakin\nm\u00e4\u00e4rin matematiikkaan ja purjehdusoppiin, harjaannuin pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n laivan\np\u00e4iv\u00e4kirjaa sek\u00e4 laskemaan, mill\u00e4 pituus- ja leveysasteella milloinkin\noltiin. Sanalla sanoen opin sen, mik\u00e4 merimiehen v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4sti\nt\u00e4ytyy tiet\u00e4\u00e4 ja taitaa. Ja niin minusta t\u00e4ll\u00e4 matkalla tuli sek\u00e4\nmerimies ett\u00e4 kauppias. Ostamillani tavaroilla sain naulan ja yhdeks\u00e4n\nunssia kultahiekkaa, josta minulle Lontoossa palattuani maksettiin\nl\u00e4hes kolmesataa puntaa.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 ensimm\u00e4inen menestys synnytti minussa jos mink\u00e4laisia\nkorkealentoisia suunnitelmia -- suureksi turmiokseni. P\u00e4\u00e4tin tehd\u00e4\nj\u00e4lleen matkan Guineaan.\nKapteeni, hyv\u00e4 yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni, tosin sairastui heti Lontooseen tultuamme ja\nkuoli muutaman p\u00e4iv\u00e4n per\u00e4st\u00e4. Laivan p\u00e4\u00e4llik\u00f6ksi tuli nyt entinen\nper\u00e4mies, ja h\u00e4nen kanssaan min\u00e4 l\u00e4ksin onnettomimmalle matkalle, mit\u00e4\nihminen milloinkaan on tehnyt. Kapteenivainajan leskelle j\u00e4tin\ntalletettavaksi kaksisataa puntaa ja sadalla ostin uusia tavaroita.\nLaiva oli juuri k\u00e4\u00e4ntym\u00e4ss\u00e4 Kanarian saarten ja mannermaan v\u00e4lisille\nv\u00e4ylille, kun huomasimme aamuh\u00e4m\u00e4riss\u00e4 maurilaisen merirosvolaivan,\njoka Sal\u00e9sta p\u00e4in lasketteli t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 vauhtia meit\u00e4 kohti. Me nostimme\nkaikki purjeet, mutta havaitsimme pian rosvojen p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4n yh\u00e4\nl\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi meit\u00e4. T\u00e4ytyi varustautua taisteluun.\nMeill\u00e4 oli kaksitoista tykki\u00e4, rosvoilla kahdeksantoista. Kello kolmen\naikaan iltap\u00e4iv\u00e4ll\u00e4 rosvolaiva oli meid\u00e4t saavuttanut. N\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti sen\naikomuksena oli hy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4 kimppuumme per\u00e4n puolelta, mutta se asettuikin\nerehdyksess\u00e4 meihin sivuttain, ja silloin laukaisimme kahdeksan tykki\u00e4\nyhtaikaa sit\u00e4 kohti. Se per\u00e4ytyi hiukan, mutta vastasi heti taas\ntuleemme, ja sen parisataa miest\u00e4 laukaisi muskettinsa meit\u00e4 kohti\nsaamatta kuitenkaan vahinkoa aikaan, koska me olimme hyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 suojassa.\nSe hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si sitten uudestaan, k\u00e4vi laitaamme kiinni, jolloin\nkuusikymment\u00e4 miest\u00e4 sy\u00f6ksyi meid\u00e4n kannellemme ja rupesi heti\nkatkomaan k\u00f6ysi\u00e4 ja viilt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n purjeita rikki. Kahdesti saimme heid\u00e4t\nkarkotetuksi takaisin, mutta vihdoin ylivoima voitti meid\u00e4t. Ei\nauttanut muu kuin antautua, kun meit\u00e4 oli kuollut kolme ja\nhaavoittunut kahdeksan miest\u00e4. Meid\u00e4t otettiin vangiksi ja vietiin\nSal\u00e9-nimiseen maurilaiseen satamaan.\nNyt olin siis vankina min\u00e4kin. Niin masentava kuin olikin tieto, ett\u00e4\nminusta, uljaasta kauppiaasta, oli tullut viheli\u00e4inen orja, t\u00e4ytyy\nminun kumminkin tunnustaa, ettei kohtelu, jonka alaiseksi jouduin,\nollut niin ankara kuin ensin olin pel\u00e4nnyt. Minua ei viety, niin kuin\nmuita, sis\u00e4maahan, hallitsijan hoviin, vaan j\u00e4in rosvolaivan p\u00e4\u00e4llik\u00f6n\nluokse. Orja kuin orja sittenkin. Luulin jo is\u00e4ni ennustuksen k\u00e4yneen\ntoteen, mutta voi! T\u00e4m\u00e4 oli vasta k\u00e4rsimysteni esimakua.\nSanomattakin on selv\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 ainaisena ajatuksenani oli, miten\np\u00e4\u00e4sisin vapaaksi vankeudesta, mutta pienint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n tilaisuutta ei\nilmaantunut.\nVerraten helppoja t\u00f6it\u00e4 sain toimitella: hoitaa is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni puutarhaa ja\nkalastella. Kun minulla useinkin oli hyv\u00e4 kalaonni, h\u00e4n otti minut\npari kolme kertaa viikossa mukaansa Sal\u00e9n ulapalle onkimaan, ja\nsoutajanani oli nuori maurilainen, nimelt\u00e4 Xury. Milloin is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni ei\nitse joutanut, h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti minut ja Xuryn er\u00e4\u00e4n sukulaisensa seurassa\nonkimatkoille.\nKerran olimme tuollaisella kalastusmatkalla v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4 joutua surman\nsuuhun. \u00c4kki\u00e4 levisi niin sakea sumu, ettemme tienneet miss\u00e4 olimme.\nSaimme soutaa koko sen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n ja seuraavan y\u00f6nkin, ja kun aamun\nkoittaessa sumu h\u00e4lveni, huomasimme joutuneemme pari peninkulmaa\nulapalle p\u00e4in. [T\u00e4ss\u00e4 kirjassa on aina puhe Englannin peninkulmasta\ntahi meripeninkulmasta. -- Edellinen = 1,6 km; j\u00e4lkimm\u00e4inen = 1,85\nkm.] Kun alkoi k\u00e4yd\u00e4 melko navakka tuulikin, meill\u00e4 oli t\u00e4ysi ty\u00f6,\nennen kuin p\u00e4\u00e4simme rantaan, puhumattakaan siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 ankara n\u00e4lk\u00e4\nvaivasi meit\u00e4.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n otti is\u00e4nt\u00e4 opikseen ja p\u00e4\u00e4tti t\u00e4st\u00e4 puolin olla milloinkaan\nl\u00e4htem\u00e4tt\u00e4 kalalle ilman kompassia ja ev\u00e4it\u00e4. H\u00e4nell\u00e4 kun oli tallella\nmeid\u00e4n entisest\u00e4 laivastamme saatu isopursi, h\u00e4n laitatti sen keskelle\nkajuutan, johon sopi pari miest\u00e4 pitk\u00e4lleen ja johon asetettiin p\u00f6yt\u00e4\nja muutamia ruoka- ja juomatavarain s\u00e4ilytyspaikkoja. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 purrella,\njoka oli varustettu niin sanotulla lampaanlapapurjeella, me siit\u00e4\nl\u00e4htien aina k\u00e4vimmekin kalassa.\nN\u00e4in kului kaksi vuotta.\nSattuipa sitten kerran, ett\u00e4 is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni p\u00e4\u00e4tti l\u00e4hte\u00e4 purrellaan\nkalastelemaan parin kolmen ylh\u00e4isen maurilaisen kanssa, jotka olivat\ntulleet vierailemaan h\u00e4nen luokseen. Edellisen\u00e4 iltana h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti\npurteen tavallista enemm\u00e4n ruokatavaroita ja juomia ja k\u00e4ski minun\nmy\u00f6s ottaa mukaan kolme pyssy\u00e4 ampumatavaroineen, h\u00e4n kun vieraineen\naikoi huviretkell\u00e4 ampua vesilintujakin.\nMin\u00e4 tein ty\u00f6t\u00e4 k\u00e4sketty\u00e4, varustin ja puhdistin purren, nostin liput\nja viirit yl\u00f6s ja aamusta varhain istuin odottelemassa is\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4\nvieraineen. Mutta h\u00e4np\u00e4 tulikin yksin ilmoittaen, etteiv\u00e4t vieraat\nvoineetkaan tulla huviretkelle, heid\u00e4n kun v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 t\u00e4ytyi l\u00e4hte\u00e4\nasioilleen. Illaksi he kyll\u00e4 tulisivat takaisin, ja minun pit\u00e4isi\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 Xuryn ja h\u00e4nen sukulaisensa kanssa ongelle hankkimaan tuoretta\nkalaa illalliseksi.\nSilloin palasivat mieleeni j\u00e4lleen entiset vapauden ajatukset: nyth\u00e4n\noli hallussani alus, ruokatavaroita ja juomavett\u00e4 runsaasti. Minne\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4, sit\u00e4 en tiennyt; sen vain tiesin, ett\u00e4 pois min\u00e4 yrit\u00e4n. Tuuli\noli ep\u00e4suotuisa, se kun puhalsi koillisesta. Jos olisi ollut\netel\u00e4tuuli, olisin helposti p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt Espanjan rannoille ja Gibraltarin\nsalmen kautta Cadizin lahteen. Mutta siit\u00e4 huolimatta olin p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4, menk\u00f6\u00f6n syteen tai saveen.\nKalastettuamme jonkin aikaa rannalla saalista saamatta huomautin\nseuralaisilleni, ett\u00e4 huonostihan me muka t\u00e4ll\u00e4 tapaa t\u00e4yt\u00e4mme is\u00e4nn\u00e4n\nk\u00e4skyt; meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyy l\u00e4hte\u00e4 ulommaksi. Maurilainen suostui\nv\u00e4hint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n vaaraa aavistamatta ja astui kokkaan vet\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n yl\u00f6s\npurjetta. Min\u00e4 ohjasin purren noin peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n ulapalle, j\u00e4tin\nsitten per\u00e4simen Xurylle ja menin itse kokkaan. Siell\u00e4 asetuin\nmaurilaisen taakse, sieppasin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vy\u00f6t\u00e4isist\u00e4 ja -- yks kaks oli\nmies meress\u00e4. Hetken per\u00e4st\u00e4 h\u00e4n pulpahti pintaan, kohosi kuin korkki\nja l\u00e4ksi uimaan purtta kohti. Sen h\u00e4n olisi pian saavuttanutkin, tuuli\nkun oli kovin laimea, mutta min\u00e4 sieppasin pyssyn ja uhkasin ampua\nh\u00e4net, jos h\u00e4n l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi yritt\u00e4isi.\n-- Meri on tyyni, sanoin min\u00e4, -- olet hyv\u00e4 uimari, k\u00e4\u00e4nny rantaan!\nMin\u00e4 aion paeta, k\u00e4vi miten tahansa.\nH\u00e4n huomasi parhaaksi palata takaisin, ja olen varma siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nsaapui onnellisesti rantaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli todella mainio uimari.\nSenj\u00e4lkeen k\u00e4\u00e4nnyin Xury pojan puoleen sanoen:\n-- Xury, jos lupaat olla minulle uskollinen, niin teen sinusta suuren\nmiehen, mutta ellet vanno sit\u00e4 Muhammedin ja is\u00e4si parran nimess\u00e4,\nniin heit\u00e4n sinutkin mereen.\nPoika vannoi minulle uskollisuutta luvaten l\u00e4hte\u00e4 kanssani vaikka\nmaailman \u00e4\u00e4riin.\nNiin kauan kuin maurilainen oli n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4 koetin suunnata purtta\npohjoiseen ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin pyrkien Gibraltaria kohti. Ja kukapa j\u00e4rkev\u00e4\nihminen olisi osannut luullakaan, ett\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4ntyisin etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti,\noutoihin seutuihin, miss\u00e4 villit neekerit tekisiv\u00e4t minusta piankin\nlopun. Mutta h\u00e4m\u00e4r\u00e4n tultua muutin kurssia ja k\u00e4\u00e4nnyin kuin\nk\u00e4\u00e4nnyinkin etel\u00e4\u00e4n, joutumatta kuitenkaan kovin kauaksi rannasta.\nTuuli oli jokseenkin navakka, meri verraten rauhallinen, ja siksip\u00e4\nmatka joutuikin niin, ett\u00e4 seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, noin kello kolmen\ntienoissa, kun j\u00e4lleen sain rannan n\u00e4kyviin, olimme noin 150\npeninkulmaa etel\u00e4\u00e4n Sal\u00e9sta, siis ulkopuolella Marokon keisarin\nalueiden.\nMaihin en sent\u00e4\u00e4n uskaltanut laskea enk\u00e4 ankkuriakaan heitt\u00e4\u00e4 yh\u00e4\nviel\u00e4kin pel\u00e4ten joutuvani maurilaisten kynsiin. Kun tuulikin oli\nedelleen my\u00f6t\u00e4inen, jatkoin purjehtimista etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti viisi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4\nyht\u00e4 mittaa. Vihdoin tuuli k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi etel\u00e4iseksi, ja koska nyt ei en\u00e4\u00e4\nollut pelkoa takaa-ajostakaan, laskin illan suussa ankkuriin er\u00e4\u00e4n\npienen joen suun kohdalle.\nMill\u00e4 leveysasteella oltiin, siit\u00e4 ei minulla ollut v\u00e4hint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\ntietoa; en osannut arvata, mink\u00e4 maan rannalle olimme joutuneet, en\ntiennyt joen nime\u00e4. Pime\u00e4n tultua p\u00e4\u00e4timme uida rannalle\ntarkastelemaan seutua ja noutamaan juomavett\u00e4. Mutta tuskin oli\naurinko mennyt mailleen, niin jo alkoi rannalta kuulua niin kauheata\npetojen \u00e4rjynt\u00e4\u00e4 ja ulvomista, ett\u00e4 Xury parka kauhusta vavisten\npyysi, ettei y\u00f6n aikana ment\u00e4isi rannalle. Ja parasta olikin olla\nmenem\u00e4tt\u00e4 sinne. Parin kolmen tunnin kuluttua n\u00e4imme monenmuotoisten\nsuurten el\u00e4inten, emme tienneet mink\u00e4 nimisten, l\u00e4henev\u00e4n meren rantaa\nja heitt\u00e4ytyv\u00e4n veteen uimaan ja pulikoimaan, ja siin\u00e4 ne pitiv\u00e4t niin\nkamalaa karjuntaa, etten moista ollut ennen kuullut.\nEi aikaakaan, niin jo kuului yksi el\u00e4in uivan meid\u00e4n purttamme kohti.\nEmme sit\u00e4 erottaneet pime\u00e4ss\u00e4, mutta p\u00e4rskynn\u00e4st\u00e4 ja huohotuksesta\np\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en se mahtoi olla tavattoman suuri peto. Xury luuli sit\u00e4\nleijonaksi. Tuokion kuluttua huomasin sen l\u00e4hestyneen meit\u00e4 parin\naironmitan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n. Silloin sieppasin kajuutasta kiv\u00e4\u00e4rin ja laukaisin\nsit\u00e4 kohti. Peto k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi heti ymp\u00e4ri ja kuului uivan maihin.\nMahdotonta on kuvailla sit\u00e4 kauheata melua ja kiljuntaa, mik\u00e4 nyt\nnousi rannalla sek\u00e4 kauempanakin: ensi kertaa kaiketi n\u00e4ill\u00e4 seuduilla\noli kajahtanut pyssyn pamaus. Maihin ei nyt tietysti ollut menemist\u00e4,\nja mene tied\u00e4, olisko t\u00e4ss\u00e4 hyv\u00e4 odotella aamunkaan valkenemista,\nsill\u00e4 villej\u00e4 ihmisi\u00e4 t\u00e4ytyi pel\u00e4t\u00e4 ainakin yht\u00e4 paljon kuin villej\u00e4\npetoja.\nOli miten oli, mutta aamun tultua meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 maihin hakemaan\njuomavett\u00e4, joka oli meilt\u00e4 kokonaan lopussa. Xury pyysi p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\nrannalle vesileilin kanssa: h\u00e4n muka k\u00e4visi etsim\u00e4ss\u00e4 vett\u00e4 sielt\u00e4.\n-- Miksi en min\u00e4 tulisi mukaan? kys\u00e4isin min\u00e4. H\u00e4n vastasi:\n-- Jos villi tuli, se hotki min\u00e4 ja te p\u00e4\u00e4se pois.\n-- No niin, sanoin min\u00e4 liikuttuneena pojan uskollisuudesta, --\nmenn\u00e4\u00e4n sitten yhdess\u00e4, Xury. Jos villit tulevat, niin ammumme ne; ei\nmeit\u00e4 sy\u00f6d\u00e4 kumpaakaan.\nMe ty\u00f6nsimme purren niin l\u00e4helle rantaa kuin suinkin mahdollista,\notimme pyssyt ja vesileilit mukaan ja kahlasimme rannalle. Min\u00e4 en\nuskaltanut j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 venett\u00e4 n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4, mutta poika l\u00e4ksi kauemmaksi\nmaalle, miss\u00e4 oli n\u00e4hnyt jonkin alankopaikan. Hetken kuluttua h\u00e4n tuli\njuoksujalkaa luokseni. Min\u00e4 luulin jo villien tai mets\u00e4npetojen ajavan\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaa, mutta pian huomasin h\u00e4nen olallaan jonkin otuksen, jonka\nh\u00e4n oli ampunut. Se oli j\u00e4niksen n\u00e4k\u00f6inen, mutta turkispeite oli\ntoisenlainen ja jalatkin pitemm\u00e4t. Mik\u00e4 el\u00e4in lienee ollutkaan, me\nolimme iloisia, kun olimme saaneet lis\u00e4\u00e4 matkaev\u00e4it\u00e4.\nVett\u00e4 ei meid\u00e4n tarvinnutkaan l\u00e4hte\u00e4 kovin kaukaa hakemaan, sill\u00e4\nhiukan ylemp\u00e4n\u00e4 huomasimme joen veden olevan luoteen aikana makeaa. Ja\nniinp\u00e4 t\u00e4ytimme leilit ja palasimme purteemme n\u00e4kem\u00e4tt\u00e4 j\u00e4lke\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nihmisist\u00e4.\nKoska olin ennenkin purjehtinut n\u00e4ill\u00e4 seuduin, arvasin, etteiv\u00e4t\nKanarian ja Kap Verden saaret olisi t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 kovinkaan kaukana.\nLeveysastetta en kuitenkaan pystynyt tarpeellisten kojeitten\npuutteessa laskemaan. Sen verran osasin sent\u00e4\u00e4n arvata, ett\u00e4 n\u00e4m\u00e4\ntienoot olivat asumattomia. Neekerit ovat n\u00e4ilt\u00e4 seuduilta siirtyneet\nmaurilaisten tielt\u00e4 etel\u00e4mm\u00e4ksi, ja maurilaiset taas eiv\u00e4t ole\nkatsoneet maksavan vaivaa ottaa haltuunsa n\u00e4in karuja maita.\nOlin pari kertaa kirkkaalla ilmalla n\u00e4kevin\u00e4ni Pico di Teneriffan\nhuipun ja koetinkin purjehtia sit\u00e4 kohti, mutta vastatuuli ja kova\naallokko pakottivat minut yh\u00e4 edelleen pysym\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00e4hell\u00e4 rantaa.\nSilloin t\u00e4ll\u00f6in t\u00e4ytyi laskea maihin t\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n vesileilej\u00e4.\nKerran laskimme aamulla varhain ankkurin er\u00e4\u00e4n korkean niemennen\u00e4n\nkohdalle. Nousuveden mukana l\u00e4hestyimme rantaa, kun Xury, jolla oli\nsirke\u00e4mm\u00e4t silm\u00e4t kuin minulla, \u00e4kki\u00e4 virkkoi hiljaa, ett\u00e4 parasta\nolisi l\u00e4hte\u00e4 loitommaksi t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4.\n-- Tuolla, virkkoi h\u00e4n, -- makata juuri yksi pitk\u00e4 peto. Min\u00e4kin n\u00e4in\nnyt tavattoman suuren leijonan makaavan kallionkielekkeen alla.\n-- Xury! sanoin min\u00e4. -- Mene rannalle ja tapa se.\n-- Min\u00e4k\u00f6 tappa! h\u00e4n huudahti s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4en. -- Se sy\u00f6 minun suuta. (Sy\u00f6\nsuuhunsa, tarkoitti poika.)\nMin\u00e4 k\u00e4skin nyt h\u00e4nen olla aivan hiljaa, otin suurimman pyssyn, pistin\nsiihen aimo panoksen ruutia ja ty\u00f6nsin kaksi kuulaa p\u00e4\u00e4lle. Samoin\ntein toisellekin pyssylle. Kolmannen latasin viidell\u00e4 pitk\u00e4ll\u00e4\nluodilla. Koetin osua petoa p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, mutta se makasi k\u00e4p\u00e4l\u00e4 kuonollaan,\nniin ett\u00e4 luodit mursivat silt\u00e4 polven. Se kavahti pystyyn, mutta\nvaipui j\u00e4lleen maahan, nousi sitten kolmelle jalalleen p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4en mit\u00e4\nkamalimman karjunnan. Min\u00e4 sieppasin toisen pyssyn ja t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa\nosuin petoa suoraan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n. Se kaatui m\u00f6risten ja vain hiljaa\nnytk\u00e4ytellen ruumistaan. Nyt Xurykin rohkaisi mielens\u00e4 ja pyrki\nmaihin. H\u00e4n otti kolmannen pyssyn ja pit\u00e4en toisessa k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n sit\u00e4\nveden yl\u00e4puolella ui rantaan. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n laukaisi pyssyns\u00e4 petoon,\nihan korvan juureen, jolloin se kokonaan heitti henkens\u00e4.\nOlihan tuo uljas saalis, mutta ruoaksi siit\u00e4 ei ollut, ja siksi minun\nk\u00e4vi s\u00e4\u00e4liksi kolmea turhaan tuhlattua panosta. Me nyljimme silt\u00e4\nnahan, mihin ty\u00f6h\u00f6n kului melkein koko p\u00e4iv\u00e4, ja levitimme sen sitten\nkajuutan kannelle, jossa se kuivui parissa p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nKolmas luku\nYh\u00e4 kauemmas etel\u00e4\u00e4n. -- Yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisi\u00e4 neekereit\u00e4 rannalla. --\nLeopardi. -- Portugalilainen laiva. -- Tilanomistajana Brasiliassa. --\nUusille matkoille. -- Haaksirikko. -- Ensimm\u00e4inen y\u00f6 puussa.\nMatkaa jatkettiin taas etel\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in kymmenen tai kaksitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\nRuokatavarat v\u00e4heniv\u00e4t v\u00e4henemist\u00e4\u00e4n, niin ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi olla\nlaihanpuoleisella muonalla. Maihin ei poikettu kuin vett\u00e4 hakemaan.\nAikomukseni oli p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 vihdoin Gambian tai Senegalin virran suuhun,\ntoisin sanoen Kap Verden tienoille, miss\u00e4 toivoin kohtaavani\neurooppalaisia laivoja. Tiesin n\u00e4et, ett\u00e4 kaikki laivat, jotka\nEuroopasta kulkivat Guinean rannikolle. Brasiliaan tai It\u00e4-Intiaan,\npoikkesivat Kap Verden niemeen taikka samannimisiin saariin. Ellei\nminun onnistuisi kohdata t\u00e4llaista laivaa, niin joutuisin neekerien\nk\u00e4siin, siis surman suuhun.\nV\u00e4hitellen alkoivat seudut, joiden ohi purjehdittiin, n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4\nasutuilta: parissa kolmessa paikassa huomasimme rannalla ihmisi\u00e4,\nmustia ja alastomia. Er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 kohden he juoksivat rantaa pitkin meid\u00e4n\nper\u00e4ss\u00e4mme. Xuryn kiellosta huolimatta ohjasin purteni l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi\nrantaa p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4kseni pakinoille heid\u00e4n kanssaan. Aseita ei ollut\nkenell\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n heist\u00e4, yhdell\u00e4 ainoalla vain pitk\u00e4 sauva k\u00e4dess\u00e4. Xury\nsanoi sen olevan keih\u00e4s, jota he osaavat heitt\u00e4\u00e4 hyvinkin kauas sangen\ntarkasti. Pysyttelin senvuoksi tarpeeksi pitk\u00e4n matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja\nkoetin viittauksilla tehd\u00e4 heille selv\u00e4ksi, ett\u00e4 tahtoisin jotain\nsy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4. He taas puolestaan viittasivat minua pys\u00e4htym\u00e4\u00e4n.\nLaskettuani purjeet alas juoksi pari kolme heist\u00e4 kauemmas maalle,\neik\u00e4 kulunut puoltakaan tuntia, niin he jo toivat tullessaan kuivattua\nlihaa ja jyvi\u00e4. Mutta miten saada ne purteen? En uskaltanut nousta\nmaihin, ja kovin hekin n\u00e4kyiv\u00e4t pelk\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4n meit\u00e4. Keksiv\u00e4tp\u00e4 viimein\nkeinon: laskivat tuomisensa rannalle ja meniv\u00e4t itse hyvin pitk\u00e4n\nmatkan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, kunnes me olimme nostaneet tavarat veneeseen. Sitten he\nj\u00e4lleen tulivat l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi.\nViittauksin me sitten osoitimme heille syv\u00e4\u00e4 kiitollisuuttamme, sill\u00e4\neih\u00e4n meill\u00e4 ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n vastalahjaksikaan antaa. Ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 me\nkumminkin saimme tilaisuuden tehd\u00e4 heille eritt\u00e4in hyv\u00e4n palveluksen.\nOllessamme viel\u00e4 l\u00e4hell\u00e4 rantaa tuli \u00e4kki\u00e4 vuorilta p\u00e4in kaksi petoa\nvimmattua vauhtia merta kohti, toinen ajaen toista. Vihoissaanko\nlienev\u00e4t olleet vai leikki\u00e4 ly\u00f6neet, en tied\u00e4, mutta outoa se oli,\nsill\u00e4 pedot liikkuvat harvoin keskip\u00e4iv\u00e4ll\u00e4. Ihmiset rannalla\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4htiv\u00e4t pahanp\u00e4iv\u00e4isesti, varsinkin naiset, mutta heist\u00e4\nv\u00e4litt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 pedot hy\u00f6kk\u00e4siv\u00e4t suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 mereen, ja siell\u00e4k\u00f6s alkoi\ntuima temmellys, ilmeisestikin iloinen kisa. N\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni toisen\nl\u00e4henev\u00e4n purttani latasin pyssyni kiireimm\u00e4n kaupalla, ja niin pian\nkuin peto oli tullut pyssynkantaman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n ammuin sit\u00e4 silmien v\u00e4liin.\nSe upposi samassa, mutta kohosi taas heti pinnalle, ja vuoroin\nvaipuen, vuoroin nousten, koetti uida maihin, kunnes vihdoin vajosi\nveteen v\u00e4h\u00e4n matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 rannasta.\nEn osaa sanoin selitt\u00e4\u00e4 sit\u00e4 kauhua ja h\u00e4mm\u00e4styst\u00e4, mink\u00e4 pyssyn\npamaus sai aikaan noissa ihmisparoissa. Muutamat kaatuivat maahan\npuolikuolleina s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksest\u00e4. N\u00e4hty\u00e4\u00e4n pedon uponneen ja huomatessaan\nminun viittailevan heit\u00e4 l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi, he rohkaisivat kuitenkin mielens\u00e4\nja riensiv\u00e4t petoa hakemaan. Helppo se oli l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4kin siit\u00e4 kohdasta,\nmiss\u00e4 veri punasi vedenpintaan. Min\u00e4 heitin heille k\u00f6yden, ja sen\navulla he vetiv\u00e4t raadon yl\u00f6s. Se oli hyvin kaunis, suuri leopardi.\nNeekerit nostivat k\u00e4tens\u00e4 yl\u00f6s ihmeiss\u00e4\u00e4n pedon kummallisesta\nkaadannasta. Mik\u00e4 toinen peto oli, en tied\u00e4, sill\u00e4 laukauksen\nkuultuaan se ui heti maihin ja pakeni vuorille, mist\u00e4 oli tullutkin.\nMin\u00e4 viittasin nyt neekereille kehottaen heit\u00e4 pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n saaliin\nomanansa, ja ylen kiitollisina he heti rupesivat sit\u00e4 nylkem\u00e4\u00e4n. Ei\nheill\u00e4 ollut puukkoja eik\u00e4 muita veitsi\u00e4, mutta teroitetuilla\npuuaseilla he saivat sen ihmeellisen lyhyess\u00e4 ajassa nyljetyksi. He\ntarjosivat sitten osan lihoja minulle, mutta kielt\u00e4ydyin viitaten\nheit\u00e4 pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n kaiken hyv\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n ja pyysin saada vain vuodan. Sen he\nantoivatkin, toivatpa viel\u00e4 ruokavaroja entisten lis\u00e4ksi. N\u00e4ytin\nheille sitten tyhj\u00e4n vesileilin ja k\u00e4\u00e4nsin sen alassuin. Siit\u00e4 he\nymm\u00e4rsiv\u00e4t, ett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 ei ollut vett\u00e4. Ei aikaakaan, niin jo kaksi\nnaista kantoi rannalle suuren astian -- n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti se oli\np\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa poltettua savea -- t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 vett\u00e4. Siit\u00e4 Xury nouti\npurteen kolme t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 leilillist\u00e4.\nSanottuamme j\u00e4\u00e4hyv\u00e4iset n\u00e4ille yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisille neekereille l\u00e4hdimme\ntaas hyvin varustettuina purjehtimaan edelleen. Yksitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4\nkuljettiin yht\u00e4mittaa etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti, kunnes vihdoin edess\u00e4mme n\u00e4kyi\nniemi, joka ulottui nelj\u00e4, viisi peninkulmaa l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohti. Koska meri\noli rauhallinen, l\u00e4hdin suuressa kaaressa kiert\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n tuota nient\u00e4.\nKuljettuamme sitten parin peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 olevan niemen ohitse,\nn\u00e4in oikealla puolen taaskin maata. Nyt arvasin olevani Kap Verden\nniemen ja Kap Verden saarten v\u00e4lisess\u00e4 salmessa. Kovin kaukana ne\nviel\u00e4 kumminkin olivat nuo saaret, enk\u00e4 tiennyt minne p\u00e4in olisi\noikein l\u00e4hdett\u00e4v\u00e4, sill\u00e4 jos nousisi kova tuuli, en p\u00e4\u00e4sisi\nmantereelle enk\u00e4 saarillekaan.\nJ\u00e4tetty\u00e4ni n\u00e4iss\u00e4 mietteiss\u00e4 per\u00e4simen Xuryn k\u00e4siin menin kajuuttaan.\nMutta tuskin olin enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt sinne, kun jo kuulin Xuryn huutavan: --\n_Master! master!_ Laiva ja purtta (purje)!\nPoika parka oli aivan suunniltaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n luuli, ett\u00e4 nyt entisen\nmaurilaisen is\u00e4nt\u00e4mme laiva oli kintereill\u00e4mme. En k\u00e4sitt\u00e4nyt\npoloinen, ett\u00e4 me olimme jo aikaa sitten ehtineet h\u00e4nen alueidensa\nulkopuolelle. Riensin kannelle ja n\u00e4hty\u00e4ni laivan tunsin sen\nportugalilaiseksi alukseksi, jolla oli matka n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti Guineaan.\nMutta pian huomasin erehtyneeni: sen suunta olikin toinen. P\u00e4\u00e4tin\nsilloin koettaa p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 sit\u00e4 niin l\u00e4helle kuin mahdollista.\nVedin yl\u00f6s kaikki purjeemme, mutta n\u00e4ytti silt\u00e4 kuin laiva menisi\nohitse, ennen kuin sain annetuksi sille mit\u00e4\u00e4n merkki\u00e4 meist\u00e4. Olin jo\njoutumaisillani ep\u00e4toivoon, kun vihdoin huomasin heid\u00e4n v\u00e4hent\u00e4v\u00e4n\npurjeitaan. Arvatenkin he olivat kaukoputkellaan n\u00e4hneet veneemme ja\nluulleet meit\u00e4 jonkin eurooppalaisen laivan haaksirikkoisiksi. Nostin\nentisen is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni lipun h\u00e4t\u00e4merkiksi mastoon ja laukaisin pyssyn.\nPer\u00e4st\u00e4p\u00e4in sain tiet\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 laivalla oli merkki kyll\u00e4 n\u00e4hty, pyssyn\nsavu samoin, mutta laukausta ei kuultu, siksi kaukana olimme viel\u00e4\nheist\u00e4. Laiva pys\u00e4htyi, ja parin kolmen tunnin kuluttua purteni laski\nsen laitaan.\nSaatuaan tiet\u00e4\u00e4 minun olevan englantilainen ja kuultuaan lyhyk\u00e4isen\nkertomuksen kohtalostani laivan kapteeni otti meid\u00e4t tavaroinemme\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti laivaansa.\nOlin riemuissani pelastuksestamme -- arvaahan sen. Tarjosin kaiken,\nmit\u00e4 minulla oli, kapteenille, mutta t\u00e4m\u00e4 ylev\u00e4mielinen mies otti\ntavarani vain talteen ja lupasi antaa ne minulle takaisin saavuttuamme\nBrasiliaan.\n-- Min\u00e4 saatan, h\u00e4n lausui, -- milloin hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 joutua samanlaiseen\ntilaan kuin tekin ja silloin en muuta toivoisi kuin ett\u00e4 minutkin\npelastettaisiin, niin kuin min\u00e4 pelastin teid\u00e4t nyt. Niin, niin\n_seignore inglese_ (= herra englantilainen). Mielell\u00e4ni vien teid\u00e4t\nperille, ja n\u00e4m\u00e4 tavarat tarvitsette kyll\u00e4 tullaksenne vieraassa\nmaassa toimeen ja p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksenne kotiinne j\u00e4lleen.\nJa niin h\u00e4n antoi minulle kirjallisen luettelon kaikista tavaroistani,\njotka sen mukaan olin saava takaisin perille tultuamme. Siit\u00e4 ei ollut\nunohtunut kolme vesileili\u00e4nik\u00e4\u00e4n. Purteni h\u00e4n otti laivaansa ja\npakotti minut vastaanottamaan siit\u00e4 kahdeksankymmenen piasterin\nvelkakirjan. Jos Brasiliassa joku siit\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n tarjoaisi, h\u00e4n lupasi\nmaksaa enemm\u00e4n. Xuryn h\u00e4n olisi ostanut omakseen ja tarjosi h\u00e4nest\u00e4\nkuusikymment\u00e4 piasteria, mutta kun min\u00e4 en olisi luopunut uskollisesta\napulaisestani, h\u00e4n teki ehdotuksen: h\u00e4n sitoutui p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n Xuryn\nkymmenen vuoden kuluttua vapaaksi, jos t\u00e4m\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4ntyisi kristinuskoon.\nXury poika suostui mielell\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4h\u00e4n ja niin h\u00e4n j\u00e4i kapteenin\npalvelukseen.\nOnnellisesti purjehdittiin sitten edelleen ja kahdenkolmatta p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\nkuluttua laskettiin Todos los Santosiin, eli Pyh\u00e4in miesten lahteen.\nKapteenin hyvyytt\u00e4 en osaa kyllin kiitell\u00e4. Matkastani h\u00e4n ei ottanut\n\u00e4yri\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, viel\u00e4p\u00e4 maksoi minulle kaksikymment\u00e4 dukaattia\nleopardinnahasta ja nelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4 leijonannahasta. Muut tavarani h\u00e4n\nniinik\u00e4\u00e4n osti rahalla, niin ett\u00e4 minulla Brasiliaan tullessani oli\nkaksisataakaksikymment\u00e4 piasteria.\nEnnen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 tutustuin siell\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4seen kunnon mieheen, jolla\noli oma _ingenio_, miksi siell\u00e4 p\u00e4in sanotaan viljelysmaata ja\nsokerikeitt\u00e4m\u00f6\u00e4. N\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni kuinka tuottavaa tuollainen ty\u00f6 oli ja\nkuinka miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 moinen rauhallinen el\u00e4m\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4tin min\u00e4kin hankkia\nitselleni tiluksia, asettua maanviljelij\u00e4ksi ja tilata Lontoosta sinne\nj\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4ni pienen p\u00e4\u00e4oman.\nJonkin ajan kuluttua tapasin yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni kapteenin, jonka oli t\u00e4ytynyt\nviipy\u00e4 siell\u00e4 kolme kuukautta lastia odotellessaan. Kuultuaan\naikeistani h\u00e4n kehotti minua kirjoittamaan leskelle, jolle olin\nj\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt p\u00e4\u00e4omani talteen, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n jonkun lontoolaisen kauppiaan\nv\u00e4lityksell\u00e4 l\u00e4hett\u00e4isi t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 kaupaksi k\u00e4yvi\u00e4 tavaroita kapteenin\nnimell\u00e4 Lissaboniin. H\u00e4n lupasi sitten ensi matkallaan tuoda tavarat\nt\u00e4nne.\n-- Mutta, h\u00e4n lis\u00e4si, -- koska kaikki ihmistoimi on ep\u00e4varmaa ja\nhorjuvaa, niin neuvoisin teit\u00e4 k\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4h\u00e4n yritykseen ainoastaan\npuolet omaisuuttanne, siis sata puntaa. Jos hanke onnistuu, saatte\ntoisen puolen t\u00e4nne samalla lailla; ellei niin on teill\u00e4 ainakin\npuolet viel\u00e4 j\u00e4ljell\u00e4.\nNoudatin h\u00e4nen neuvoaan, ja kaikki yritykseni onnistuivat paremmin\nkuin olin osannut luullakaan. Tavaroita Lissabonista odotellessani\nolin hankkinut itselleni jonkin verran maata ja pannut sokeri- ja\ntupakkaistutukseni alulle. Ja kun kapteeniyst\u00e4v\u00e4ni j\u00e4lleen palasi\nBrasiliaan, h\u00e4n toi tullessaan minulle koko joukon tavaroita,\nparhaasta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 verkkoja ja muita kankaita, joilla t\u00e4ss\u00e4 maassa oli\nerinomainen menekki. Ne min\u00e4 kaikki sain myydyksi niin edullisesti,\nett\u00e4 voittoni oli l\u00e4hes nelinkertainen. Pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4ni -- min\u00e4 kun olin\nviel\u00e4 nuori ja kokematon -- kapteeni toi minulle kaikenlaisia aseita\nja ty\u00f6kaluja, joita istutuksillani tarvittiin. Sit\u00e4 paitsi h\u00e4n oli\ntullessaan tuonut minulle palvelijan, jonka oli pestannut kuudeksi\nvuodeksi. Lis\u00e4ksi ostin viel\u00e4 yhden neekeriorjan ja palkkasin toisen\npalvelijan.\nKaikesta t\u00e4st\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 erinomainen yst\u00e4v\u00e4 ei tahtonut ottaa mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nkorvausta. Tyrkytt\u00e4m\u00e4ll\u00e4 sain h\u00e4net ottamaan hiukan tupakkaa, oman\nmaani tuotteita muka.\nMy\u00f6t\u00e4inen onni minua silloin n\u00e4ytti alkavan suosia. Maat kasvoivat,\nviljat versoivat, ty\u00f6 tuotti hedelmi\u00e4, varallisuus lis\u00e4\u00e4ntyi. Tulin\nolleeksi jo nelj\u00e4 vuotta Brasiliassa, olin oppinut maan kielt\u00e4, saanut\ntuttavia ja yst\u00e4vi\u00e4 sek\u00e4 naapurieni ett\u00e4 San Salvadorin kauppiaitten\njoukossa. Mutta kuka ei onneansa osaa oikein k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4, se turmiollensa\ntiet\u00e4 tasoittaa. Ja niin k\u00e4vi minunkin. Jos olisin pysynyt silloisessa\nasemassani, olisi minulla ollut mahdollisuus p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 juuri siihen\nkeskis\u00e4\u00e4dyn rauhalliseen, huolettomaan tilaan, josta is\u00e4ni niin\nkauniisti oli puhunut. Mutta toisenlainen osa odotti minua, ja siihen\noli syyn\u00e4 onneton haluni p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 kiert\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n maita mantereita, vastoin\nsek\u00e4 luonnon ett\u00e4 kohtalon ilmeisi\u00e4 viittauksia.\nOlin kerran kauppiaitten seurassa kertonut kahdestikin k\u00e4yneeni\nAfrikan l\u00e4nsirannikolla kuvaillen samalla, kuinka edullista siell\u00e4 on\nk\u00e4yd\u00e4 kauppaa: mit\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4t esineet niin kuin napit, veitset, sakset,\nkirveet, lasihelmet ja sen semmoiset ovat siell\u00e4 kovin haluttua\ntavaraa; niit\u00e4 vastaan ei saa ainoastaan kultahiekkaa, jyvi\u00e4 ja\nnorsunluuta, vaan neekereit\u00e4kin, joita k\u00e4ytet\u00e4\u00e4n ty\u00f6ntekij\u00f6in\u00e4\nBrasiliassa. Kauppiaat h\u00f6risteliv\u00e4t korviaan minun kertomuksilleni ja\nmieltyiv\u00e4t varsinkin viimeksi mainitsemaani seikkaan. Neekerikauppa\noli siihen aikaan viel\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4ist\u00e4, koska siihen joka kerta tarvittiin\n_assiento_, ts. Espanjan ja Portugalin kuninkaitten lupa. Siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4\nneekerit olivatkin sangen kalliita.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tuli kolme kauppiasta luokseni, otti minulta\nvaitiololupauksen ja teki sitten seuraavan salaisen ehdotuksen. Heill\u00e4\noli kullakin suuria viljelysmaita, mutta ty\u00f6v\u00e4est\u00e4 oli tuntuva puute.\nSen vuoksi he aikoivat varustaa laivan, joka l\u00e4htisi Guineaan hakemaan\nsielt\u00e4 lastillisen neekereit\u00e4. Heill\u00e4 ei ollut aikomusta julkisesti\nmyyd\u00e4 n\u00e4it\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, se kun ei ollut sallittuakaan; he aikoivat vain\nyhden ainoan kerran hakea neekereit\u00e4 ja jakaa n\u00e4m\u00e4 sitten kesken\u00e4\u00e4n,\nty\u00f6v\u00e4eksi viljelysmailleen. Kysymys oli vain siit\u00e4, l\u00e4htisink\u00f6 min\u00e4\nhankkeen johtajana t\u00e4lle matkalle. Minun ei tarvitsisi osallistua\nmihink\u00e4\u00e4n kustannuksiin. Palattuani saisin oman osani neekereist\u00e4.\nOlisiko minun ollut pakko ryhty\u00e4 moiseen uhkarohkeaan ja ep\u00e4varmaan\nyritykseen, minun, jolla oli niin edullinen asema t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja joka\nkolmen, nelj\u00e4n vuoden per\u00e4st\u00e4 ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 olisin ollut kolmen-,\nnelj\u00e4ntuhannen punnan omistaja? Mutta kohtaloni n\u00e4kyi m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4nneen minut\noman onneni tuhoojaksi. Kuuntelin enemm\u00e4n mielikuvitustani kuin\nj\u00e4rke\u00e4ni ja suostuin kuin suostuinkin esitykseen sill\u00e4 ehdolla, ett\u00e4\nnuo kauppiaat sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin pit\u00e4isiv\u00e4t huolta viljelyksist\u00e4ni. Samalla\ntein j\u00e4lkis\u00e4\u00e4d\u00f6ksen, jossa m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4sin kuolemani varalta puolet\nomaisuudestani yst\u00e4v\u00e4lleni kapteenille ja toisen puolen l\u00e4hetett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi\nh\u00e4nen toimestaan Englantiin.\nJa niin astuin laivaan kovan onnen hetken\u00e4, 1. p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 syyskuuta 1659,\nt\u00e4sm\u00e4lleen kahdeksan vuotta siit\u00e4 kun olin ensi kertaa l\u00e4htenyt\nmerille vanhempieni tiet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4.\nLaivamme, joka oli sadankahdenkymmenen tonnin vetoinen, oli varustettu\nkuudella tykill\u00e4. Laivav\u00e4ke\u00e4 oli nelj\u00e4toista miest\u00e4, heihin luettuina\nkapteeni, jungmanni ja min\u00e4. Lastina oli laivant\u00e4ysi neekereille\nmieluista vaihtotavaraa kuten helmi\u00e4, lasiesineit\u00e4, peilej\u00e4, veitsi\u00e4,\nkirveit\u00e4 ynn\u00e4 muuta sellaista.\nPurjehdittuamme kaksitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 pohjoiseen ja saavuttuamme 7.\nasteen 20. minuutin kohdalle pohjoista leveytt\u00e4 nousi \u00e4kki\u00e4 hirmuinen\nrajumyrsky, joka sekoitti kokonaan suuntamme. Se alkoi kaakosta,\nk\u00e4\u00e4ntyi \u00e4kki\u00e4 luoteeseen ja py\u00f6r\u00e4hti siit\u00e4 koilliseen kieputellen\nmeit\u00e4 niin hirvitt\u00e4v\u00e4ll\u00e4 voimalla, ettemme kahteentoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n\nvoineet muuta kuin alistua tuulen heitelt\u00e4v\u00e4ksi. Tuho ja turmio oli\nalati silmiemme edess\u00e4. Kenell\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ei ollut v\u00e4hint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n pelastumisen\ntoivoa. Kaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n lis\u00e4ksi meilt\u00e4 viel\u00e4 kuoli mies kuumeeseen, ja\ntoisen merimiehen ja jungmannin huuhtaisi ankara hy\u00f6kyaalto kannelta\nmereen.\nKahdentoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua hirmumyrsky hiukan laimeni. Kapteenin\nmittausten mukaan oli laivan asema silloin noin 11 astetta pohjoista\nleveytt\u00e4, mutta samalla h\u00e4n huomasi meid\u00e4n ajautuneen hyvin kauaksi\nl\u00e4nteen, pohjoiseen Amazonasvirran suistosta ja l\u00e4helle Orinocon, niin\nsanotun Suuren virran suuta.\nKapteeni tuli neuvottelemaan kanssani siit\u00e4, mit\u00e4 nyt tekisimme. Koska\nlaiva oli saanut vuodon, h\u00e4n ehdotti, ett\u00e4 palattaisiin suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4\nBrasiliaan. Min\u00e4 olin eri mielt\u00e4. Otettiin esille merikartta. Osoitin\nettei siell\u00e4p\u00e4in ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4t\u00e4satamaa, minne voitaisiin menn\u00e4.\nMeid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi minun mielest\u00e4ni p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 niin pian kuin mahdollista\nPienten Antillien piiriin ja pyrki\u00e4 nimenomaan Barbados-saaren\nturviin. Jos v\u00e4ltt\u00e4isimme joutumasta Meksikonlahden virtaan p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme\nsinne noin viidentoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua. Afrikan l\u00e4nsirannikolle\nl\u00e4htemist\u00e4 ei voitu ajatellakaan. Ja niin otettiin nyt laivan\nsuunnaksi WNW jotta p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme aluksi johonkin Englannin omistamaan\nsaareen.\nMutta toisin oli s\u00e4\u00e4detty.\nSaavuttuamme 12\u00b0 11':lle pohjoista leveytt\u00e4 nousi uusi myrsky, joka\nj\u00e4lleen kiid\u00e4tti meid\u00e4t kauhealla vauhdilla kauaksi l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohden,\nkaikkien tunnettujen kauppav\u00e4ylien ulkopuolelle. Nyt oli se vaara\ntarjona, ett\u00e4 jos henkiin j\u00e4isimmekin, niin pikemmin t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 joutuisi\nvillien raakalaisten sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4ksi kuin keksisi mink\u00e4\u00e4n mahdollisuuden\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 takaisin omaan maahan.\nTuulen yh\u00e4 vimmatusti puhaltaessa kuului kerran aamulla \u00e4kki\u00e4 mastosta\nhuuto: \"Maata n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4\"! Tuskin olimme kaikki enn\u00e4tt\u00e4neet kannelle,\nkun laivamme jo t\u00f6rm\u00e4si hiekkas\u00e4rk\u00e4lle ja pys\u00e4htyi siihen. Ja nyt\nalkoivat raivoisat hy\u00f6kyaallot ly\u00f6d\u00e4 kannen yli sellaisella voimalla,\nett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi paeta kajuuttoihin, jotteiv\u00e4t ne olisi pyyhk\u00e4isseet\nmeit\u00e4 mereen.\nSen, joka ei itse ole t\u00e4llaista kokenut, ei ole helppoa k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4\nmeid\u00e4n h\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4mme ja tuskaamme. Emme tienneet miss\u00e4 p\u00e4in olimme,\nolimmeko ajautuneet saaren vai mannermaan rantaan, olivatko seudut\nasuttuja vai asumattomia. Tuuli tuntui tosin hiukan laimenevan, mutta\npelk\u00e4simme sittenkin, ett\u00e4 laiva min\u00e4 hetken\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 hajoaisi\nkappaleiksi. \u00c4kki\u00e4, kuin ihmeen kautta, tuuli k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi p\u00e4invastaiseen\nsuuntaan. Me katselimme toisiamme odottaen joka silm\u00e4nr\u00e4p\u00e4ys kuolemaa\nja valmistautuen l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n toiseen maailmaan, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa\nei meill\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n tekemist\u00e4.\nAinoana lohdutuksena oli se, ettei laiva viel\u00e4 ollut s\u00e4rkynyt ja ett\u00e4\nkapteeni sanoi tuulen tyyntyv\u00e4n. Myrsky hiljenikin hiukan, mutta laiva\noli yh\u00e4 karilla eik\u00e4 ollut v\u00e4hint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n toivoa saada sit\u00e4 irti. Miten\nvain saada henkens\u00e4 pelastetuksi -- siin\u00e4 kysymys. Toinen laivan vene\noli myrskyss\u00e4 paiskautunut s\u00e4p\u00e4leiksi, toinen oli tosin j\u00e4ljell\u00e4,\nmutta aivan mahdottomalta n\u00e4ytti saada se vesille.\nAika oli t\u00e4p\u00e4r\u00e4ll\u00e4. Muutamat n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t jo laivan ruvenneen halkeilemaan.\nPer\u00e4miehen onnistui viimein muun laivav\u00e4en avulla saada vene mereen,\nme hypp\u00e4simme siihen, yhteens\u00e4 yksitoista henke\u00e4, ja antauduimme\nJumalan armon turvissa pauhaavan meren valtaan. Myrsky oli tosin ollut\nkoko lailla hiljentynyt, mutta meri raivosi yh\u00e4 edelleen. Se oli\ntodellakin den wild zee, joksi hollantilainen nimitt\u00e4\u00e4 myrsky\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4\nmerta.\nKauhea oli meid\u00e4n poloisten tila. Purjetta ei meill\u00e4 ollut, emmek\u00e4\nsill\u00e4 olisi mit\u00e4\u00e4n tehneetk\u00e4\u00e4n. Turvauduimme airoihin, mutta --\nkohtalomme oli ilmeinen: rantaa kohti meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyy pyrki\u00e4, ja sinne\nmeit\u00e4 tuulikin ty\u00f6nt\u00e4\u00e4, mutta rannan s\u00e4rkkiin vene auttamattomasti\ns\u00e4rkyy. J\u00e4timme henkemme Jumalan huomaan ja l\u00e4hdimme omin k\u00e4sin\njouduttamaan matkaa ilmeist\u00e4 perikatoamme kohti.\nPienen\u00e4 toivon kipin\u00e4n\u00e4 tuikahti mieless\u00e4mme viel\u00e4 se ajatus, ett\u00e4\nonnellisen sattuman ansiosta p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme johonkin lahdenpoukamaan tai\njoensuuhun tuuulensuojaan, mutta mit\u00e4 l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi rantaa tulimme, sit\u00e4\nkauheammalta se n\u00e4ytti, hirve\u00e4mm\u00e4lt\u00e4 viel\u00e4 kuin meri.\nKiidetty\u00e4mme noin puolentoista peninkulman verran tuli \u00e4kki\u00e4 suunnaton\nhy\u00f6kyaalto takaap\u00e4in. Vuorenkorkuisena se vy\u00f6ryi meit\u00e4 kohti. Siit\u00e4\ntulisi meille armonisku, sen n\u00e4ki nyt joka mies. [Armoniskuksi\nsanottiin teloituksen viimeist\u00e4, kuolettavaa iskua, jolla py\u00f6veli\nlopetti teloitettavan tuskat.] Se karkasi sellaisella vimmalla veneen\nkimppuun, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 samassa silm\u00e4nr\u00e4p\u00e4yksess\u00e4 kaatui kumoon. Tuskin\nenn\u00e4timme huudahtaa: \"Jumala varjelkoon!\" kun aalto oli jo nielaissut\nmeid\u00e4t kitaansa.\nMahdotonta on kuvailla niit\u00e4 ajatuksia, joita mieless\u00e4ni s\u00e4v\u00e4hti\nristiin rastiin vaipuessani veteen. Taitava uimari kyll\u00e4 olin, mutta\nen p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt aallon sis\u00e4st\u00e4 pintaan hengitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, ja ennen kuin se\nheitti minut hyv\u00e4n matkaa rannalle p\u00e4in ja j\u00e4lleen painuin takaisin.\nOlin l\u00e4k\u00e4htym\u00e4isill\u00e4ni, mutta saatuani hiukan hengitetyksi oli minussa\nsen verran tarmoa ett\u00e4 huomatessani olevani l\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4 maata kuin\nluulinkaan, nousin pystyyn ja l\u00e4ksin pyrkim\u00e4\u00e4n rantaa kohti, ennen\nkuin toinen aalto tulisi ja tempaisi minut mukaansa. Ja se tuli\nkorkeana kuin vuori ja raivoisana kuin vihamies. Hengityst\u00e4ni\npid\u00e4tt\u00e4en peityin j\u00e4lleen aallon syliin parin-, kolmenkymmenen jalan\nsyvyyteen. Sanomattomalla voimalla se heitti minut rantaa kohti, ja\nmin\u00e4, ponnistaen kaikki voimani, koetin uida samaan suuntaan. Rintani\noli jo pakahtumaisillaan, kun \u00e4kki\u00e4 tunsin k\u00e4sieni ja p\u00e4\u00e4ni olevan\nvedenpinnan yl\u00e4puolella. Vain pari sekuntia enn\u00e4tin hengitt\u00e4\u00e4, mutta\njo sekin antoi minulle uusia voimia. Pian peitti aalto minut j\u00e4lleen,\nt\u00e4ll\u00e4 kerralla ei kuitenkaan niin pitk\u00e4ksi aikaa kuin ennen. Sen\nmenty\u00e4 riensin taas mink\u00e4 enn\u00e4tin rantaan p\u00e4in.\nMutta raivoisa meri ei j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt minua viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n rauhaan. Kahdesti\nviel\u00e4 hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si aalto p\u00e4\u00e4lleni, ty\u00f6nt\u00e4en minua yh\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n rantaa\nkohti. Viimeisell\u00e4 kerralla se paiskasi minut niin ankarasti kalliota\nvastaan, ett\u00e4 menin tainnoksiin. Siit\u00e4 toinnuttuani tunsin, etten en\u00e4\u00e4\nkykenisi vastustamaan meren voimaa, mutta silloin kiersin k\u00e4sivarteni\nkallion ymp\u00e4rille ja siten v\u00e4ltyin joutumasta aallon mukana takaisin\nmereen. Kiiruhdin rannalle ja p\u00e4\u00e4sin vihdoin ylemm\u00e4ksi kalliolle,\njossa vesi ei en\u00e4\u00e4 voinut minua saavuttaa.\nNyt olin pelastunut ja ensi ty\u00f6kseni kiitin Jumalaa, joka oli\ntempaissut minut ihan ilmeisesti surman suusta.\nMahdotonta on selitt\u00e4\u00e4 sen ihmisen iloa ja riemua, joka sanan t\u00e4ydess\u00e4\nmerkityksess\u00e4 on nostettu haudasta. Nyt min\u00e4 k\u00e4sitin, miksi\nkuolemaantuomitulta vangilta, jolla jo on hirttosilmukka kaulassa,\nmutta jolle \u00e4kki\u00e4 julistetaan armahdus, samassa ly\u00f6d\u00e4\u00e4n suonta:\n\u00e4killinen mielenliikutus saattaisi pys\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen syd\u00e4mens\u00e4 sykinn\u00e4n.\n    \"Mutt \u00e4kki-ilo niin kuin \u00e4kkisurukin,\n    ne tuhon voivat tuottaa kumpikin.\"\nK\u00e4det yh\u00e4 kurotettuina taivasta kohti kuljin rannalla. Olemukseni\npohjia my\u00f6ten olin kiitollinen pelastumisestani. Ja sitten muistuivat\nmieleeni toverit: he olivat hukkuneet joka mies. En sen koommin n\u00e4hnyt\nheist\u00e4 j\u00e4lke\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, paitsi kaksi hattua, yhden lakin ja kaksi paritonta\nkenk\u00e4\u00e4.\nLoin silm\u00e4ni haaksirikkoiseen laivaan. Meri hy\u00f6kyi viel\u00e4 niin tuimasti\nsen ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4, ett\u00e4 se v\u00e4liin kokonaan katosi silmist\u00e4ni. N\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni\nkuinka kaukana se oli, en saattanut olla huudahtamatta: \"Hyv\u00e4 Jumala!\nKuinka olikaan mahdollista, ett\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sin rantaan!\"\nAloin sitten v\u00e4hitellen silm\u00e4ill\u00e4 ymp\u00e4rilleni n\u00e4hd\u00e4kseen millaiseen\npaikkaan olin joutunut, ja p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4kseni, mit\u00e4 ensiksi tekisin. Lyhyt\noli iloni: huomasin tilani varsin surkeaksi. Olin l\u00e4pim\u00e4rk\u00e4. Muita\nvaatteita ei minulla ollut kuin ne, mitk\u00e4 oli yll\u00e4ni. Ei ollut\nmuruakaan sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4, ei vesitippaa juotavaa. T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 kuolisin varmasti\nn\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4n, tai villipedot raatelisivat minut. Pahinta oli se, ettei\nminulla ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n asetta, mill\u00e4 olisin tappanut jonkin el\u00e4imen\nhenkeni pitimiksi tai puolustautunut mets\u00e4npetoja vastaan. Ei minulla\nollut muuta kuin puukko, piippu ja hiukan tupakkaa kukkarossa.\nOnnettomuuteni saattoi minut sellaiseen ep\u00e4toivoon, ett\u00e4 jonkin aikaa\njuoksentelin kuin mielipuoli edestakaisin. Ilta alkoi pimet\u00e4, ja tuska\nsyd\u00e4mess\u00e4 mietin: mik\u00e4h\u00e4n minut perii, jos t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 on villej\u00e4\nmets\u00e4nel\u00e4imi\u00e4, jotka tavallisesti \u00f6iseen aikaan l\u00e4htev\u00e4t\ntyyssijoiltansa.\nEi ole muuta neuvoa, arvelin, kuin nousta l\u00e4hell\u00e4 olevaan tuuheaan\nhonkaan. Sinne kiipe\u00e4n y\u00f6ksi. Huomenna mietin sitten, mill\u00e4 kuolemalla\nkuolen, sill\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4 ei ole pienint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n toivoa. Kuljin jonkin\nmatkaa sis\u00e4maahan etsim\u00e4\u00e4n juomavett\u00e4, jota suureksi ilokseni\nl\u00f6ysinkin. Juotuani ja pistetty\u00e4ni tupakkaa suuhuni hillit\u00e4kseni\nn\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4ni palasin j\u00e4lleen hongan luokse, kiipesin yl\u00f6s ja asetuin sen\noksille niin, ettei ollut pelkoa putoamisesta, jos sattuisin\nnukkumaan. Leikkasin sitten aseekseni vahvan sauvan ja asetuin\npaikoilleni.\nHyvin v\u00e4synyt kun olin, vaivuin pian sike\u00e4\u00e4n uneen enk\u00e4 luule\nkenenk\u00e4\u00e4n muun nukkuneen samanlaisessa tilassa niin makeasti kuin min\u00e4\nt\u00e4ss\u00e4 korkeassa kammiossa.\nNelj\u00e4s luku\nUimalla laivalle. -- Lautta. -- Ensimm\u00e4inen otus. -- Useamman kerran\nlaivalla. -- Varastot lis\u00e4\u00e4ntyv\u00e4t. -- Vuohi. Almanakka. -- Pakko paras\nopettaja.\nHer\u00e4tess\u00e4ni oli ilma kirkas, myrsky oli tyyntynyt, meri ei en\u00e4\u00e4\npauhannut eik\u00e4 raivonnut niin kuin eilen. Eniten minua kuitenkin\nihmetytti se, ett\u00e4 laiva oli y\u00f6n aikana siirtynyt karilta l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi\nrantaa. Nousuvesi oli irroittanut sen ja kuljettanut sit\u00e4 maata kohti,\nmelkein sen kallion l\u00e4helle, johon aalto oli minut eilen viskannut.\nKoska se ei ollut nyt rannasta kuin peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja n\u00e4ytti yh\u00e4\nviel\u00e4kin olevan pystyss\u00e4, alkoi mieleni tehd\u00e4 sinne, koska saisin\nsielt\u00e4 yht\u00e4 ja toista tarpeellista.\nPuolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikana meri tyyntyi kokonaan. Luodevesi pakeni niin\nkauas, ettei rannan ja laivan v\u00e4lill\u00e4 ollut vett\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 kuin\nnelj\u00e4nnespeninkulma.\nMieleni muuttui haikeaksi katsellessani laivaa. Jos olisimme pysyneet\nsiin\u00e4 eilen, niin hengiss\u00e4 olisimme nyt joka mies. Olisimme\npelastuneet rannalle, eik\u00e4 minustakaan olisi tullut t\u00e4llaista kurjaa\nerakkoa, vailla ihmisseuraa ja kaikkea lohdutusta. Kyyneleet\nkiertyiv\u00e4t v\u00e4kisinkin silmiini. Mutta nyt ei auttanut antautua murheen\nvaltaan. P\u00e4\u00e4tin l\u00e4hte\u00e4 k\u00e4ym\u00e4\u00e4n laivalla. Riisuin vaatteet ylt\u00e4ni, ilma\nkun oli tavattoman l\u00e4mmin, ja heitt\u00e4ydyin mereen. Yks kaks olin uinut\nlaivan luo, mutta siell\u00e4 oli pulma edess\u00e4: miten p\u00e4\u00e4sisin laivaan. Se\noli yh\u00e4 matalikolla ja hyvin korkealla vedenpinnasta; ei ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n,\njota my\u00f6ten olisin voinut nousta kannelle. Kahdesti uin laivan ymp\u00e4ri\nja vasta toisella kerralla huomasin k\u00f6ydenp\u00e4\u00e4n riippuvan kokasta --\nkumma etten sit\u00e4 jo ensi kerralla huomannut! Ankarasti ponnistaen sain\nvihdoin k\u00f6ydenp\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 kiinni ja kiipesin kokkaan.\nHuomasin laivan saaneen vuotoja ja enn\u00e4tt\u00e4neen vet\u00e4\u00e4 vett\u00e4 sis\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 jo\nkoko lailla. Myrsky oli iskenyt sen per\u00e4 edell\u00e4 kovan hietas\u00e4rk\u00e4n\nlaitaan, niin ett\u00e4 per\u00e4 oli kohonnut hyvin korkealle, kokka sit\u00e4\nvastoin vaipunut alas. Kannet olivat vapaina, ja kaikki mit\u00e4 laivalla\noli, n\u00e4kyi j\u00e4\u00e4neen kuivaksi. Ensi ty\u00f6kseni rupesin tarkastamaan, mik\u00e4\nlaivalla oli viel\u00e4 kunnollista ja mik\u00e4 turmeltunutta. Kaikki laivan\nruokatavarat olivat s\u00e4ilyneet kuivina. N\u00e4lk\u00e4inen kun olin, menin\nruokavarastoon, pistin housuntaskuni t\u00e4yteen laivakorppuja ja niit\u00e4\npureskellen ryhdyin jatkamaan ty\u00f6t\u00e4ni, sill\u00e4 kiirett\u00e4 oli pidett\u00e4v\u00e4.\nIsosta kajuutasta l\u00f6ysin jonkin verran rommia, jota otin aimo\nkulauksen vahvistuakseni vastaisiin ponnistuksiin. Nyt olisi ollut\ntarpeen vene, mill\u00e4 olisin vienyt tavaroita maihin. Mutta kun sit\u00e4 ei\nollut, t\u00e4ytyi ryhty\u00e4 muihin keinoihin.\nLaivalla tiesin olevan muutamia vararaakoja, pari kolme paksua parrua\nja useita varalla pidettyj\u00e4 mastopuita. Otin niist\u00e4 muutamia, joita\njaksoin liikutella, sidoin toiseen p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n k\u00f6yden, heitin ne mereen ja\nkiinnitin k\u00f6yden laivaan. Laskeuduin sitten alas laivankylkeen, vedin\npuut luokseni ja sidoin nelj\u00e4 raakaa molemmista p\u00e4ist\u00e4 yhteen niin\nhyvin kuin osasin, niin ett\u00e4 siit\u00e4 muodostui jonkinlainen lautta.\nPanin sitten pari kolme lautaa poikkipuolin ja jopa kannatti lautta\nmiest\u00e4. Koska se oli kuitenkin viel\u00e4 kovin heikko raskaammalle\nlastille, sahasin k\u00e4sisahalla mastopuun kolmeen kappaleeseen ja liitin\nn\u00e4m\u00e4 lauttani vahvikkeeksi. Vaikeaa ja hankalaa t\u00e4m\u00e4 ty\u00f6 kyll\u00e4 oli,\nmutta tieto siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 nyt on hankittava v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6mi\u00e4 elintarpeita,\nrohkaisi ja opetti minua saamaan aikaan sellaistakin, mihin muissa\noloissa tuskin olisi pystynyt.\nLautta oli nyt kyllin luja kantamaan suurtakin kuormitusta. Kysymys\noli vain siit\u00e4, mit\u00e4 siihen ensiksi panisin ja miten saisin tavarat\ntyrskyjen l\u00e4pi maihin. Mutta t\u00e4ss\u00e4 ei ollut aikaa pitkiin arveluihin.\nEnsiksi laskin lautan pinnalle niin monta lautaa ja lankkua kuin\nkokoon sain, otin sitten kolme merimiesarkkua, tyhjensin ne ja vein\nlautalle. Ensimm\u00e4iseen panin ruokatavaroita: leip\u00e4\u00e4, riisi\u00e4, kolme\nHollannin juustoa, viisi kimpaletta kuivattua vuohenlihaa ja jonkin\nverran eurooppalaisia jyvi\u00e4, ohraa ja riisi\u00e4, jota oli k\u00e4ytetty\nlaivalla olleen siipikarjan ruoaksi. (Linnut oli jo aikaa sitten\nsy\u00f6ty, ja mielipahakseni huomasin j\u00e4lkeen p\u00e4in, ett\u00e4 rotat olivat\njyrsineet siemenist\u00e4 suurimman osan kelvottomiksi.) Juomia l\u00f6ysin\nuseita laatikollisia, muutamia hienoja lik\u00f6\u00f6rej\u00e4 ja viisi kuusi\nnassakkaa arrakkia. Ne min\u00e4 nostin sellaisenaan lautalle, kun arkuissa\nei en\u00e4\u00e4 ollut tilaa.\nT\u00e4ll\u00e4 v\u00e4lin alkoi vuoksi nousta, ja harmikseni n\u00e4in, kuinka rannalle\nj\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4ni takki, liivit ja paita kelluivat veden pinnalla. Uimaan\nl\u00e4htiess\u00e4ni ei minulla ollut kuin liinaiset polvihousut ja sukat\njalassa. Laivassa kyll\u00e4 oli vaatetta hyvinkin runsaasti, mutta ylleni\nsieppasin vain kaikkein tarpeellisimmat, minulla kun oli kiire saada\npaljon t\u00e4rke\u00e4mp\u00e4\u00e4 mukaani, nimitt\u00e4in ty\u00f6aseita. Kauan aikaa\nhaeskeltuani l\u00f6ysin viimein kirvesmiehen arkun. Se oli verraton aarre\nja t\u00e4ll\u00e4 haavaa minulle arvokkaampi kuin laivanlastillinen kultaa.\nLaskin sen lautalle sis\u00e4llyst\u00e4 sen tarkemmin tutkimatta, sill\u00e4\ntiesinh\u00e4n suunnilleen, mit\u00e4 siin\u00e4 oli.\nNyt oli saatava ampuma-aseita ja ampumatarpeita. Suuressa kajuutassa\noli kaksi sangen hyv\u00e4\u00e4 lintupyssy\u00e4 ja kaksi pistoolia. Ne min\u00e4 otin\nensin ja samalla muutamia ruutisarvia ja haulipusseja sek\u00e4 kaksi\nvanhaa, ruostunutta miekkaa. Sit\u00e4 paitsi l\u00f6ysin viel\u00e4 pitk\u00e4n etsimisen\nper\u00e4st\u00e4 kolme ruutitynnyri\u00e4, joista kaksi oli s\u00e4ilynyt ihan kuivana,\nkolmas oli kostunut. N\u00e4m\u00e4 aseet, kaksi sahaa, kirveen ja vasaran\nlaskin lautalle.\nOlipa lastini lis\u00e4n\u00e4 kolme el\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4kin olentoa, nimitt\u00e4in laivan kaksi\nkissaa ja koira. Edelliset kyll\u00e4 pysyiv\u00e4t lautalla koreasti, mutta\nkoira hypp\u00e4si heti kohta mereen ja ui edell\u00e4ni rantaan.\nNyt oli lautta t\u00e4yteen lastattu. Mutta kuinka p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 maihin, kun ei\nollut purjetta, ei airoja, ei per\u00e4sint\u00e4? Heikoinkin tuulenpuuska\nsaattoi tehd\u00e4 koko hankkeen tyhj\u00e4ksi.\nKolme edullista seikkaa oli kyll\u00e4 olemassa: ensiksi meri oli tyyni,\ntoiseksi vuoksi nousi ja liikkui rantaa kohti, kolmanneksi tuuli,\nvaikka hiljainenkin, puhalsi merelt\u00e4 p\u00e4in. L\u00f6ydetty\u00e4ni pari kolme\nkatkonaista airoa l\u00e4ksin vihdoin lautallani liikkeelle.\nPeninkulman verran lautta kulki varsin hyvin. Huomasin sen vain\nsuuntautuvan hiukan syrj\u00e4\u00e4n siit\u00e4 kohdasta, miss\u00e4 ensi kertaa olin\nnoussut maihin. Siit\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4tin, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 mahtoi k\u00e4yd\u00e4 virta. Toivoin\nsiis p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4ni johonkin lahdelmaan tai joensuuhun, johon lautta olisi\nhyv\u00e4 ohjata. Oikein olin arvannutkin. Edess\u00e4p\u00e4in tuli n\u00e4kyviin pieni\npoukama, jonne vuoksi virtasi jokseenkin kovalla vauhdilla. Koetin\nniin hyvin kuin osasin ohjata lauttaani keskelt\u00e4 virtaa.\nMutta siell\u00e4 olin v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4 joutua toisen kerran haaksirikkoon, ja jos\nniin olisi k\u00e4ynyt, olisi minulta varmaankin syd\u00e4n murtunut. Kun en\nlainkaan tuntenut rantaa, t\u00f6rm\u00e4si lautan toinen p\u00e4\u00e4 \u00e4kki\u00e4 matalikolle,\njolloin tavarat olivat liukumaisillaan toiseen, matalammalla olevaan\np\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n; siit\u00e4 ne tietystikin olisivat solahtaneet veteen. Ponnistin\nselk\u00e4ni kaikin voimin arkkuja vasten, etteiv\u00e4t ne siirtyisi\npaikoiltaan, ja koetin saada lauttaani irti, mutta se oli mahdotonta.\nEn uskaltanut liikahtaakaan paikaltani, vaan t\u00e4ss\u00e4 tukalassa asemassa\nminun t\u00e4ytyi olla runsas puoli tuntia, kunnes vuoksi oli kohottanut\nlautan toisenkin p\u00e4\u00e4n v\u00e4ljille vesille. Airolla sauvoin sit\u00e4 sitten\neteenp\u00e4in, kunnes sain sen uomaan, jossa nousuvesi l\u00e4hti kulkemaan\nyl\u00f6s virtaa. Kovin kauas merenrannasta en olisi mielell\u00e4ni joutunut,\nsill\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 rannaltahan n\u00e4kisin ulapalle: kukaties viel\u00e4 joskus\nsaisin n\u00e4kyviini laivan, joka pelastaisi minut.\nHuomasin joen \u00e4yr\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 viimein pienen lahdelman ja sinne sain lauttani\nsuurella vaivalla ohjatuksi. Mutta siin\u00e4 oli taas se vaara tarjona,\nett\u00e4 koko lastini solahtaisi veteen. \u00c4yr\u00e4s oli n\u00e4et jyrkk\u00e4; ei n\u00e4kynyt\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n sopivaa laituripaikkaa. Jos lautan toinen p\u00e4\u00e4 olisi k\u00e4ynyt\nrantaan, olisi toinen p\u00e4\u00e4 vaipunut veteen ja tavarat menneet sit\u00e4\ntiet\u00e4\u00e4n. Ei auttanut muu kuin iske\u00e4 airo pohjaan ja koettaa pid\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4\nlautta yhdess\u00e4 kohdin l\u00e4hell\u00e4 tasapohjaista paikkaa, jonka arvasin\npian joutuvan nousuveden alle. Niin k\u00e4vikin. Kun vesi oli sanotun\npaikan kohdalla noussut tarpeeksi -- lauttani oli noin jalan\nsyvyydess\u00e4 -- ty\u00f6nsin lautan siihen ja l\u00f6in airon kummassakin p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\npohjaan, niin ettei se en\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt mihink\u00e4\u00e4n. Odottelin sitten,\nkunnes vesi j\u00e4lleen laski, jolloin lautta hiljalleen painui tasaiselle\ntantereelle.\nL\u00e4hdin nyt maihin etsim\u00e4\u00e4n soveliasta asuinpaikkaa itselleni ja\nturvallista suojaa tavaroilleni. En tiennyt, minne olin joutunut,\nmannermaalle vaiko saarelle, oliko t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 mets\u00e4npetoja vai ei. Vajaan\npeninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 kohosi korkea ja jyrkk\u00e4rinteinen vuori. Se oli\nkorkein kohta er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 pohjoista kohti kulkevassa sel\u00e4nteess\u00e4. Otin\nmukaani toisen lintupyssyn, ruutisarven ja pistoolin ja l\u00e4ksin\nkulkemaan vuoren huippua kohti. Ty\u00f6ll\u00e4 ja tuskalla vihdoin p\u00e4\u00e4sin\nsinne, ja siell\u00e4 suureksi surukseni huomasin joutuneeni saarelle:\nvett\u00e4 oli ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4, muutamia kallioita meress\u00e4 vain siell\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja\nnoin kolmen peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 l\u00e4nteen kaksi viel\u00e4 pienemp\u00e4\u00e4 saarta.\nHedelm\u00e4t\u00f6n n\u00e4kyi saari olevan ja arvattavasti asumatonkin, ellei siin\u00e4\nasunut villipetoja, joita en kuitenkaan miss\u00e4\u00e4n huomannut. Lintuja\nn\u00e4kyi olevan suuret laumat, mutta ne olivat kaikki minulle outoja. Jos\nniist\u00e4 muutamia ampuisikin, niin ties mik\u00e4 niist\u00e4 ruoaksi kelpaisi.\nTakaisin tullessani ammuin er\u00e4\u00e4n suuren linnun, joka istui korkean\npuun latvassa, tihe\u00e4n mets\u00e4n rinteell\u00e4. Tuskin oli pyssy lauennut,\nniin pyr\u00e4hti lentoon lukemattomat laumat monenlaisia lintuja, jotka\nkirkuivat ja r\u00e4\u00e4kyiv\u00e4t kukin omalla tavallaan. Ampumani lintu oli\nv\u00e4rist\u00e4 ja nokasta p\u00e4\u00e4tellen haukka, mutta kynnet olivat toisenlaiset\nkuin haukalla. Sen liha haisi raadolta eik\u00e4 siis kelvannut sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4ksi.\nPalasin lautalle ja rupesin nostamaan tavaroitani rannalle. Siihen\nty\u00f6h\u00f6n loput p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 kuluikin. En tiennyt, miss\u00e4 viett\u00e4isin y\u00f6ni.\nMaassa en uskaltanut nukkua, sill\u00e4 pelk\u00e4sin petoja, vaikka tuo pelko,\nkuten sittemmin ilmeni, oli aivan turha. Rakensin itselleni\ntavara-arkuista ja laudoista jonkinlaisen majan. Miten t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 alkaisin\nelatustani hankkia, en tiennyt lainkaan. \u00c4skeisell\u00e4 matkallani en\nollut n\u00e4hnyt kuin pari kolme j\u00e4niksen kaltaista el\u00e4int\u00e4, jotka olivat\nhyp\u00e4ht\u00e4neet edest\u00e4ni pyssyn pauketta s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4en.\nSeuraavana aamuna johtui mieleeni, ett\u00e4 laivastahan voisi saada t\u00e4nne\nmaihin viel\u00e4 paljonkin kaikenlaisia hy\u00f6dyllisi\u00e4 esineit\u00e4, k\u00f6ysi\u00e4,\npurjeita ja sen sellaista. Siksip\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4tinkin k\u00e4yd\u00e4 viel\u00e4 toistamiseen\nsiell\u00e4, jos suinkin mahdollista. Ja kun otin lukuun, ett\u00e4 ensimm\u00e4inen\nmyrsky saattoi s\u00e4rke\u00e4 laivan s\u00e4p\u00e4leiksi, p\u00e4\u00e4tin j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 kaikki muut\nty\u00f6t sikseen, kunnes olisin saanut korjatuksi laivasta pois kaikki,\nmik\u00e4 suinkin oli mahdollista. Kutsuin sitten kokoon neuvoston, ts.\nomat ajatukseni, ja siin\u00e4 sit\u00e4 punnittiin, olisiko paras l\u00e4hte\u00e4\nlaivalle lautalla, mutta koska se huomattiin sopimattomaksi, p\u00e4\u00e4tin\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 sinne ensi pakoveden aikana samalla tavalla kuin ennenkin.\nT\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa riisuuduin jo majassa j\u00e4tt\u00e4en ylleni vain kirjavan paidan\nja jalkaani liinahousut ja keng\u00e4t.\nLaivan kannelle noustuani rakensin toisen lautan. Nyt kun minulla oli\njo kokemusta, en tehnyt sit\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 niin k\u00f6mpel\u00f6ksi enk\u00e4 lastannut sit\u00e4\nniin raskaaksi kuin edellisell\u00e4 kerralla. Paljon hy\u00f6dyllist\u00e4 tavaraa\nsain nytkin ker\u00e4tyksi. Kirvesmiehen kojusta l\u00f6ysin ensinn\u00e4kin pari\nkolme pussillista isoja ja pieni\u00e4 nauloja, pari tusinaa veistokirveit\u00e4\nja er\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4rke\u00e4n ty\u00f6kalun, tahkon. Tykkimestarin kajuutasta sain pari\nkolme rautakankea, kaksi nassakkaa musketinluoteja, seitsem\u00e4n\nmuskettia sek\u00e4 entisten lis\u00e4ksi viel\u00e4 yhden lintupyssyn ja jonkin\nverran ruutia, samoin suuren pussillisen hauleja ja ison harkon\nlyijy\u00e4. Viimeksimainittu oli kumminkin niin raskas, etten jaksanut\nnostaa sit\u00e4 laivan laidan yli. Ker\u00e4sin my\u00f6s kaikki vaatteet, mit\u00e4\nsuinkin l\u00f6ysin, varapurjeen, riippumaton ja muutamia patjoja.\nKaikki n\u00e4m\u00e4 aarteet sain onnellisesti maihin. Laivalla ollessani olin\npel\u00e4nnyt, ett\u00e4 mets\u00e4nel\u00e4imet sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin k\u00e4visiv\u00e4t h\u00e4vitt\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4\nruokatavarani, mutta perille tultuani n\u00e4in, ettei kuokkavieraita ollut\nk\u00e4ynyt lainkaan. Er\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 arkulla vain istui palatessani mets\u00e4kissan\nn\u00e4k\u00f6inen el\u00e4in, joka l\u00e4hetess\u00e4ni karkasi jonkin matkan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, mutta\npys\u00e4htyi j\u00e4lleen. Siin\u00e4 se sitten istua k\u00f6k\u00f6tti katsellen minua,\nik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin olisi mielinyt p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4hemp\u00e4\u00e4n tuttavuuteen. Ojensin\npyssyni sit\u00e4 kohti, mutta se ei ollut siit\u00e4 mill\u00e4ns\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n eik\u00e4 lainkaan\nyritt\u00e4nyt pakoon. Heitin sille sitten palasen korppua -- vaikka\nsuoraan sanoen en kovin runsask\u00e4tinen ollut, sill\u00e4 eiv\u00e4th\u00e4n omatkaan\nvarastoni olleet kovin suuret -- no niin, palasen sille heitin. Se\ntuli l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi, haisteli sit\u00e4, s\u00f6i sen suuhunsa ja katsoa murjotti\nminuun: eik\u00f6 tulisi lis\u00e4\u00e4? Mutta kun ei en\u00e4\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n n\u00e4kynyt heruvan,\nse luikki tiehens\u00e4.\nUusia tavaroita rannalle siirt\u00e4ess\u00e4ni t\u00e4ytyi minun avata ruutitynnyrit\nja kantaa ruuti v\u00e4hiss\u00e4 erin maihin, tynnyrit kun olivat hyvin\nraskaita. Nostettuani sitten kaikki kuivalle maalle rupesin\nrakentamaan itselleni telttaa purjeista ja veist\u00e4mist\u00e4ni riu'uista.\nT\u00e4h\u00e4n telttaan nostin kaikki sellaiset tavarat, mitk\u00e4 saattoivat\npilaantua sateessa tai p\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa, ja kasasin teltan ymp\u00e4rille\narkkuja ja tynnyreit\u00e4 suojaksi ihmisten ja petojen hy\u00f6kk\u00e4yksien\nvaralle.\nTelkesin sitten teltan oven: pystytin ulkopuolelle tyhj\u00e4n arkun ja\nnostin sis\u00e4puolelle lautoja. Levitin vihdoin maahan patjan, panin\nkaksi pistoolia p\u00e4\u00e4puoleen ja yhden pyssyn viereeni ja niin laskeuduin\npitk\u00e4st\u00e4 aikaa taas oikealle vuoteelle. Edellisen\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 en ollut\nsanottavasti saanut unta silmiini ja koko pitk\u00e4n p\u00e4iv\u00e4n olin ollut\nahkerassa ty\u00f6ss\u00e4 -- ei siis kumma, ett\u00e4 heti vaivuin uneen.\nTuskin on kauppiaalla konsanaan ollut liikkeess\u00e4\u00e4n niin monipuolista\ntavaravarastoa kuin minulla teltassani. Mutta ei se minua sittenk\u00e4\u00e4n\nviel\u00e4 tyydytt\u00e4nyt, sill\u00e4 niin kauan kuin laiva yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4 oli entisess\u00e4\nasennossaan, pidin velvollisuutenani tuoda sielt\u00e4 maihin kaikki, mink\u00e4\nsuinkin saatoin saada. Menin sinne joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 luoteen aikana tuoden\nmit\u00e4 milloinkin tullessani. Kolmannella kerralla lastasin lautalle\nkaikki purjeet, k\u00f6ydet ja nuorat, mitk\u00e4 vain irti sain, samoin\npurjekangasta, jota oli ollut varalla purjeitten paikkaamista varten.\nKastuneen ruutitynnyrin toin niinik\u00e4\u00e4n pois laivasta. Purjeet minun\nt\u00e4ytyi leikell\u00e4 pienemmiksi, niit\u00e4 kun en tietenk\u00e4\u00e4n en\u00e4\u00e4 voinut\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 laivan purjeina, vaan tavallisena kankaana.\nViisi kuusi kertaa laivalla k\u00e4yty\u00e4ni luulin jo ker\u00e4nneeni sielt\u00e4\nkaikki, mist\u00e4 minulle olisi hiukankin hy\u00f6ty\u00e4, mutta suuri oli iloni ja\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4stykseni, kun er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 l\u00f6ysin laivan s\u00e4ili\u00f6st\u00e4 suuren\ntynnyrin t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 laivakorppuja, kolme suurta nassakkaa rommia, tynnyrin\nsokeria ja s\u00e4killisen jauhoja. K\u00e4\u00e4rin korput kangasmyttyihin ja\nkannoin ne sill\u00e4 tavoin lautalle.\nSeuraavalla kerralla p\u00e4\u00e4tin ottaa paksut touvit. Ison touvin katkaisin\nniin suuriksi paloiksi, ett\u00e4 parahiksi jaksoin kantaa, otin my\u00f6s kaksi\nohuempaa touvia ja ankkuritouvit sek\u00e4 kaikki rautaesineet, mitk\u00e4 sain\nvain irti. Lautan laitoin raakapuista, sille lastasin n\u00e4m\u00e4 raskaat\nesineet ja l\u00e4hdin maihin.\nMutta nytp\u00e4 onni n\u00e4kyi alkavan k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4 minulle selk\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4. Lautta oli\nt\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa kutakuinkin k\u00f6mpel\u00f6sti kokoonkyh\u00e4tty ja raskaaksi\nlastattu. Siksip\u00e4 en osannutkaan kotilahdelmaan tullessani ohjata sit\u00e4\nniin taitavasti kuin edellisi\u00e4. Se keikahti toiselle laidalleen, ja\nmin\u00e4 solahdin tavaroineni p\u00e4ivineni veteen. Minulla ei siin\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nh\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4 ollut, ranta kun oli l\u00e4hell\u00e4, mutta suuri osa tavaroista meni\nmereen, varsinkin kaikki esineet, joissa oli rautaa. Pakoveden aikana\nsain kyll\u00e4 suurimman osan touveja maihin ja samoin muutamat\nrautaesineet, mutta niist\u00e4 piti useimmat etsi\u00e4 sukeltamalla, ja se oli\nvarsin vaivalloista.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4nkin j\u00e4lkeen k\u00e4vin viel\u00e4 joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 laivalla ja aina sielt\u00e4 jotain\ntoin tullessani.\nNyt olin ollut saaressa kolmetoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja k\u00e4ynyt laivalla\nyksitoista kertaa. Olin tuonut sielt\u00e4 kaiken, mihin kahden k\u00e4den\nvoimalla vain suinkin pystyin, mutta luulenpa, ett\u00e4 jos tyyni\u00e4 ilmoja\nolisi kest\u00e4nyt kauemmin, olisin lopulta tuonut maihin koko laivan\npalan palalta.\nKahdettatoista kertaa hankkiutuessani l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n laivalle huomasin\ntuulen alkavan puhaltaa. L\u00e4hdin sinne kuitenkin tapani mukaan\npakoveden aikana. Olin etsinyt ja penkonut kaikki paikat niin tarkoin,\nettei olisi luullut l\u00f6ytyv\u00e4n en\u00e4\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta l\u00f6ytyip\u00e4s! Kajuutassa\nhuomasin pienen sein\u00e4kaapin, jonka laatikosta l\u00f6ysin pari kolme\npartaveist\u00e4, suuret sakset ja tusinan verran veitsi\u00e4 ja haarukoita.\nToisesta laatikosta l\u00f6ysin rahoja, osaksi eurooppalaisia, osaksi\nbrasilialaisia kulta- ja hopearahoja. N\u00e4itten arvo oli yhteens\u00e4 noin\nkuusinelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 Englannin puntaa.\nMyh\u00e4hdin rahakasaa katsellessani. Jonninjoutavaa tavaraa! Mit\u00e4 hy\u00f6ty\u00e4\nsinusta minulle olisi? Ei sinussa ole sen vertaa arvoa, ett\u00e4 sinut\nmaasta viitsisin nostaa. Yksi ainoa veitsi on paljon arvokkaampi\nminulle. Ole siin\u00e4, miss\u00e4 olet, ja mene meren pohjaan niinkuin el\u00e4in,\njonka henke\u00e4 ei kannata pelastaa.\nHetkisen mietitty\u00e4ni k\u00e4\u00e4rin rahat kuitenkin kangaspalaseen ja otin\nmukaani.\nRupesin j\u00e4lleen rakentamaan lauttaa, mutta kesken kaikkea huomasin\ntaivaan vet\u00e4ytyneen pilveen ja nelj\u00e4nnestunnin kuluttua alkoi jo\nnavakka tuuli puhaltaa maalta p\u00e4in. Lautta t\u00e4ytyi j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 sikseen,\nsill\u00e4 minun oli jouduttava rantaan ennen nousuveden palaamista. Ei\nauttanut muu kuin heitt\u00e4yty\u00e4 uimaan. Se ei ollut helppoa, sill\u00e4\ntaskuissani oli runsaasti painoa ja aallot alkoivat k\u00e4yd\u00e4 sangen\nkorkeina. Tuuli yltyi yltymist\u00e4\u00e4n, ja ennen nousuveden tuloa pauhasi\njo t\u00e4ysi myrsky.\nMutta silloin olin jo pieness\u00e4 teltassani, turvassa tavaroitteni\nkeskell\u00e4. Myrsky raivosi koko y\u00f6n, ja kun aamulla loin silm\u00e4ni\nmerelle, niin -- laivaa ei n\u00e4kynytk\u00e4\u00e4n en\u00e4\u00e4. Apeaksi muuttui mieleni\nsilloin, mutta lohdullista oli kuitenkin ajatella, ett\u00e4 olinhan\nhetke\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n turhaan kuluttamatta kaikin voimin koettanut saada sielt\u00e4\npelastetuksi kaiken mahdollisen.\nNyt rupesin todenteolla miettim\u00e4\u00e4n, miten puolustautua villej\u00e4\nihmisi\u00e4, jos sellaisia milloin ilmaantuisi, tai petoja vastaan, jos\nsellaisia saarella olisi. Olin kahden vaiheilla: kaivaisinko luolan\nm\u00e4en rinteeseen vai rakentaisinko teltan maan p\u00e4\u00e4lle. P\u00e4\u00e4tin tehd\u00e4\nmolemmat.\nHuomasin heti aluksi, ettei nykyinen teltan kohta ollut oikein sopiva,\nkoska se sijaitsi alavassa, suoper\u00e4isess\u00e4 paikassa. Juomavesikin oli\nsiit\u00e4 kovin pitk\u00e4n matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4. T\u00e4ytyisi hakea sopivampi ja\nterveellisempi paikka.\nNelj\u00e4 n\u00e4k\u00f6kohtaa minun tuli ottaa varteen: ensiksi paikan\nterveellisyys ja raikkaan veden l\u00e4heisyys, kuten jo mainitsin;\ntoiseksi suoja helteelt\u00e4; kolmanneksi turva vihollisia vastaan, olkoot\nne ihmisi\u00e4 tai mets\u00e4npetoja; nelj\u00e4nneksi n\u00e4k\u00f6ala merelle, jotta, jos\nJumala l\u00e4hett\u00e4isi jonkin laivan n\u00e4ille vesille, voisin viel\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\nt\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 pois, sill\u00e4 siit\u00e4 toivosta en tahtonut suinkaan luopua.\nJonkin aikaa haeskeltuani l\u00f6ysin tasaisen paikan vuoren rinteell\u00e4. Sen\ntakana kohosi vuori \u00e4kkijyrkk\u00e4n\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 sen huipulta oli aivan\nmahdotonta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 penkereelle. Vuoren kupeessa oli pieni aukko, joka\njohti umpisein\u00e4iseen luolaan.\nPenkereelle juuri t\u00e4m\u00e4n aukon eteen p\u00e4\u00e4tin rakentaa telttani. Penger\noli noin sata yardia [1 yardi = 91 cm] leve\u00e4 ja kaksi kertaa niin\npitk\u00e4, se levitt\u00e4ytyi kuin ihana keto oven edess\u00e4 ja laskeutui joka\npuolelta s\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6tt\u00f6min\u00e4 askelmina alas. Kun se sijaitsi vuoren\npohjoisrinteell\u00e4, oli siin\u00e4 suojaa kovimmalta helteelt\u00e4 aamusta alkaen\naina auringon laskuun.\nEnnen kuin rupesin telttaa rakentamaan, merkitsin luolan eteen\npuoliympyr\u00e4n kymmenen yardin pituisella s\u00e4teell\u00e4 aukosta lukien. T\u00e4h\u00e4n\npuoliympyr\u00e4n kaareen pystytin vahvoja paaluja kahteen rinnakkaiseen\nriviin ly\u00f6den ne lujasti maahan. Ne olivat nelj\u00e4n ja puolen jalan\nkorkuisia ja p\u00e4ist\u00e4\u00e4n veistetyt ter\u00e4viksi. Rivien v\u00e4li\u00e4 oli\nkorkeintaan kuusi tuumaa. T\u00e4m\u00e4n v\u00e4lin t\u00e4ytin laivasta tuomillani\nk\u00f6ydenp\u00e4tkill\u00e4 yl\u00f6s asti ja p\u00f6nkitin paalut sis\u00e4puolelta\npuolenkolmatta jalan pituisilla tukipuilla. Paljon ty\u00f6t\u00e4 ja vaivaa\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n lujan aidan rakentaminen kyll\u00e4 kysyi, varsinkin kun paalut piti\nhakata mets\u00e4ss\u00e4, kantaa paikalle ja ly\u00f6d\u00e4 lujasti maahan kiinni.\nOviaukkoa en t\u00e4h\u00e4n aitaan tehnyt, vaan tein lyhyet nuoraportaat, jotka\nkotiin tullessani nostin joka kerta sis\u00e4puolelle.\nN\u00e4in olin nyt vallittanut ja linnoittanut asuntoni lujan muurin\nsuojaan ja nyt saatoin nukkua rauhassa.\nT\u00e4h\u00e4n linnoitukseeni siirsin suurin ponnistuksin runsaan omaisuuteni\nja sitten rakensin teltan, teinp\u00e4 sen kaksinkertaiseksikin, jotta\nolisin sateelta suojassa -- osan vuotta t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 n\u00e4et sataa varsin\nrankasti. Tein ensin pienemm\u00e4n teltan ja sen ulkopuolelle avaramman,\njonka katoin tervatulla kankaalla. Enk\u00e4 nyt en\u00e4\u00e4 maannut patjalla,\nniin kuin t\u00e4h\u00e4n asti, vaan paljon mukavammin entisen per\u00e4miehemme\nriippumatossa.\nKannettuani sitten telttaan kaikki sellaiset ruoka- ja muut tavarat,\nmitk\u00e4 kosteudesta k\u00e4rsiv\u00e4t, rupesin laajentamaan luolan suuta.\nIrroittamani mullan ja kivet kannoin teltan kautta aitauksen\nsis\u00e4puolelle, kunnes siihen muodostui terassin tapainen, puolentoista\njalan korkuinen lava. Teltan taakse sain v\u00e4hitellen tilavan alan, jota\npidin kellarina.\nMonta pitk\u00e4\u00e4 ja raskasta ty\u00f6p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 oli kulunut, ennen kuin kaikki oli\nkunnossa. Siirryn siis kertomuksessani hiukan taaksep\u00e4in mainitakseni\nmuutamia seikkoja, jotka mielt\u00e4ni askarruttivat.\nLuolan suuta laajentaessani sattui kerran nousemaan ankara ukkosilma.\nEi aikaakaan, niin jo leimahti kirkas salama, jota seurasi hirmuinen\njyr\u00e4hdys. Mutta salamaakin nopeammin s\u00e4v\u00e4hti silloin mieless\u00e4ni\najatus: \"Voi ruutiani!\" Ihan syd\u00e4nt\u00e4ni kouristi ajatellessani, ett\u00e4\nyksi ainoa salama olisi saattanut silm\u00e4nr\u00e4p\u00e4yksess\u00e4 r\u00e4j\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 ilmaan\nkoko ruutivarastoni, josta ei riippunut ainoastaan turvallisuuteni\nvaan elatuksenikin. En ensink\u00e4\u00e4n tullut ajatelleeksi, kuinka suuressa\nvaarassa itsekin olin.\nUkkosilman menty\u00e4 ohi j\u00e4tin kaikki muut ty\u00f6t syrj\u00e4\u00e4n ja rupesin\nvalmistamaan pusseja ja rasioita, mihin panin ruudit, sill\u00e4 ajattelin,\nett\u00e4 jos osa sattuikin syttym\u00e4\u00e4n, niin ei koko varasto silti hukkaan\nmenisi. T\u00e4h\u00e4n ty\u00f6h\u00f6n meni minulta parin viikon verran. Ruutia oli\nminulla yhteens\u00e4 l\u00e4hes satanelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4 naulaa, ja nyt jaoin sen\nluullakseni sataan osaan. Kastuneen ruutitynnyrin syttymisest\u00e4 ei\nollut pelkoa, ja siksi vieritinkin sen luolaan, jota t\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien\nnimitin keitti\u00f6kseni. Muut ruutipussit ja -rasiat k\u00e4tkin luolan\nsopukkoihin sellaisiin paikkoihin, miss\u00e4 ne eiv\u00e4t p\u00e4\u00e4sseet kostumaan.\nAinakin kerran p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4 l\u00e4hdin samoilemaan pyssy olalla ymp\u00e4ri saarta\nsek\u00e4 huvikseni ett\u00e4 n\u00e4hd\u00e4kseni, olisiko jokin ruoaksi kelpaava otus\nsaatavissa. Samalla oli tilaisuus ottaa selv\u00e4\u00e4, mit\u00e4 kotiel\u00e4imiksi\nmahdollisesti kesytett\u00e4vi\u00e4 el\u00e4imi\u00e4 saaressa oli. Ensi kerralla jo\nhuomasin vuohia ja siit\u00e4 olin mieliss\u00e4ni, mutta ne olivat niin arkoja,\nketteri\u00e4 ja varovaisia, ettei ollut l\u00e4helle yritt\u00e4mist\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. Ennen\npitk\u00e4\u00e4 kiintyi huomioni seuraavaan seikkaan: jos vuohet olivat\nkallioilla ja min\u00e4 l\u00e4hestyin niit\u00e4 laakson puolelta, ne s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4en\njuoksivat tiehens\u00e4, mutta jos ne itse olivat laaksossa ja min\u00e4\nilmestyin kallioille, ne eiv\u00e4t olleet minusta tiet\u00e4\u00e4kseenk\u00e4\u00e4n. Siit\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4ttelin niiden silm\u00e4n rakenteen olevan sellainen, etteiv\u00e4t ne\nn\u00e4hneet mit\u00e4\u00e4n yl\u00e4puolellaan olevaa.\nT\u00e4ll\u00e4 tavoin p\u00e4\u00e4sin niist\u00e4 pyssynkantaman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n. Ensi kerralla ammuin\nem\u00e4vuohen, jolla oli pieni imev\u00e4 kili vieress\u00e4\u00e4n. Kovin oli tuosta\nmieleni paha, sill\u00e4 kili parka j\u00e4i seisomaan kuolleen em\u00e4ns\u00e4 \u00e4\u00e4reen,\nja nostettuani otuksen olalleni se l\u00e4hti mukaani ja tuli teltalleni\nsaakka. Laskin kantamukseni maahan, otin kilin syliini ja nostin sen\naidan yli. Toivoin sen aikaa voittaen tulevan kesyksi, mutta en saanut\nsit\u00e4 sy\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n, niin ett\u00e4 minun lopulta t\u00e4ytyi teurastaa sekin. Nyt\nminulle riitti lihaa pitk\u00e4ksi aikaa, varsinkin kun k\u00e4ytin\nruokavarojani s\u00e4\u00e4stellen.\nSaatuani itselleni asunnon oli suurimpana huolenani l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 sellainen\npaikka, mihin voisin viritt\u00e4\u00e4 valkean. Polttopuista oli my\u00f6s pidett\u00e4v\u00e4\nhuoli. T\u00e4st\u00e4 kaikesta my\u00f6hemmin enemm\u00e4n. Kerron t\u00e4ss\u00e4 v\u00e4lill\u00e4 mit\u00e4\nmietin yksin\u00e4isyydess\u00e4ni.\nTulevaisuuteni n\u00e4ytti synk\u00e4lt\u00e4. Myrsky oli ty\u00f6nt\u00e4nyt minut kauas,\nsatain peninkulmain p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n kaikista tavallisista kulkuv\u00e4ylist\u00e4,\nheitt\u00e4nyt minut syrj\u00e4iseen saareen. Taivas oli ilmeisestikin\np\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt, ett\u00e4 minun oli t\u00e4ll\u00e4 yksin\u00e4isell\u00e4 saarella elett\u00e4v\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4ni\nloppuun saakka. Ja katkerat kyyneleet vier\u00e4htiv\u00e4t poskilleni n\u00e4in\najatellessani. Vuoroin taas syd\u00e4mess\u00e4ni kyselin, kuinka saattoikaan\nsallimus tuomita niin t\u00e4ydelliseen turmioon oman luomansa olennon ja\ntehd\u00e4 h\u00e4net niin sanomattoman viheli\u00e4iseksi, hylj\u00e4t\u00e4 h\u00e4net kokonaan,\nj\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 niin kerrassaan avuttomaksi, ett\u00e4 tuskin h\u00e4nen en\u00e4\u00e4 kannatti\nolla kiitollinen hengest\u00e4\u00e4nk\u00e4\u00e4n.\nVuoroin taas ajatukseni k\u00e4\u00e4ntyiv\u00e4t toisaalle. Nuhtelin itse\u00e4ni\nmoisista mietelmist\u00e4. Kerran, kulkiessani pyssy olalla merenrantaa\npitkin tuumiskellen tilaani, alkoi j\u00e4rki katsella asiaa toiseltakin\nn\u00e4k\u00f6kannalta: \"Kovahan sinun kohtalosi on, totta sekin, mutta sano,\nmiss\u00e4 sinun toverisi ovat? Yksitoistahan teit\u00e4 oli veneess\u00e4? Miss\u00e4 nuo\nkymmenen nyt? Miksi he eiv\u00e4t pelastuneet ja miksi et sin\u00e4 yksin\nhukkunut? Miksik\u00e4 sinut yksin koko joukosta valittiin? T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4k\u00f6 on\nparempi olla vai tuolla?\" ja min\u00e4 viittasin merelle. Ennen kuin kovan\nonnen kovaksi tuomitsee, pit\u00e4isi punnita, eik\u00f6 siihen liity jotain\nhyv\u00e4\u00e4kin, ja eik\u00f6 se saattaisi olla viel\u00e4kin kovempi?\nJa sitten johtui mieleeni, kuinka paljon kaikenlaista minulla sent\u00e4\u00e4n\noli toimeentuloni varalta. Ellei laiva olisi sattumalta siirtynyt\nhaaksirikkopaikastaan l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi rantaa, joten minun oli mahdollista\nsaada kaikki n\u00e4m\u00e4 varustukset, niin miten minun silloin olisikaan\nk\u00e4ynyt.\n-- Mik\u00e4h\u00e4n, virkoin \u00e4\u00e4neen itsekseni, -- mik\u00e4h\u00e4n minut olisikaan\nperinyt, ellei minulla olisi pyssy\u00e4 ja ampumavaroja, ellei minulla\nolisi ty\u00f6kaluja, pukua, vuodevaatteita ja muita vaatteita ruumiin\nverhona?\nJa nyth\u00e4n minulla on kaikkia n\u00e4it\u00e4 ylt\u00e4kyllin, ja rohkeasti saatan\ntoivoa, ett\u00e4 tulen t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 toimeen edelleenkin, vaikkapa ampumavaratkin\nloppuisivat enk\u00e4 voisi en\u00e4\u00e4 pyssy\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n hyv\u00e4kseni k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4. Pahemmitta\npuutteitta t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 varmaankin voin el\u00e4\u00e4 ja olla niin kauan kuin minulle\non suotu elinaikaa. Minun t\u00e4ytyy tunnustaa, ettei ukkosilma silloin\nviel\u00e4 ollut tuonut mieleeni ajatusta, ett\u00e4 yksi ainoa salama saattaisi\ntuhota koko ruutivarastoni. Ilmankos ensimm\u00e4inen leimaus niin kipe\u00e4sti\nkoskikin minuun!\nJa nyt k\u00e4yn j\u00e4lleen jatkamaan surumielist\u00e4 kertomusta hiljaisesta,\nyksin\u00e4isest\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4, jonka kaltaista tuskin kukaan muu koko\nmaailmassa on kokenut.\nLaskuni mukaan olin ensi kertaa astunut t\u00e4h\u00e4n kovan onnen saareen\nsyyskuun 30. p:n\u00e4. Meill\u00e4 Englannissa on niihin aikoihin syysp\u00e4iv\u00e4n\ntasaus; t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 aurinko puolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikaan paistoi kohtisuoraan\np\u00e4\u00e4lleni. Saaren asema oli n\u00e4et minun laskujeni mukaan 9\u00b0 22'\npohjoista leveytt\u00e4.\nAsuttuani saaressa kymmenen tai kaksitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 johtui mieleeni,\nett\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4h\u00e4n pian unohtaa ajanlaskun eik\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 osaa erottaa\nsunnuntaita arkip\u00e4ivist\u00e4. Siksip\u00e4 pystytin suuren, ristinmuotoisen,\nnelis\u00e4rm\u00e4isen pylv\u00e4\u00e4n siihen paikkaan meren rannalle, miss\u00e4 ensin olin\nnoussut maihin, ja koversin siihen puukolla suurin kirjaimin:\n_T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 nousin maihin 30. p. syyskuuta 1659_.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n pylv\u00e4\u00e4n kylkeen vedin sitten puukolla kunakin p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 viivan,\nsunnuntaina kahta pitemm\u00e4n muita, kuukauden ensimm\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 taas\nsunnuntaiviivaa kahta pitemm\u00e4n. Siin\u00e4 minun almanakkani viikko-,\nkuukausi- ja vuosilaskuineen.\nMinun on t\u00e4m\u00e4n yhteydess\u00e4 mainittava, ett\u00e4 laivasta olin tuonut maihin\nyht\u00e4 ja toista sellaista, mit\u00e4 en ensi kiireess\u00e4 ollut enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt sen\nhuolellisemmin tarkastaa, koska en ollut pit\u00e4nyt sit\u00e4 t\u00e4rke\u00e4n\u00e4. Olin\nk\u00e4\u00e4rinyt n\u00e4m\u00e4 tavarat kokoon ja vienyt lautalle semmoisinaan. L\u00e4hemmin\ntutkiessani huomasin niiden joukossa paljon hy\u00f6dyllist\u00e4. Niinp\u00e4 olin\ntuonut paperia, kyni\u00e4 ja mustetta, edelleen kolme, nelj\u00e4 kompassia,\nmuutamia matemaattisia koneita, aurinkokelloja, kiikareita, karttoja\nja merenkulkukirjoja. Samoin l\u00f6ysin kolme hyvin s\u00e4ilynytt\u00e4 Raamattua,\njotka olivat tulleet Englannista minun tilaamieni tavaroiden mukana,\nmuutamia portugalinkielisi\u00e4 kirjoja, pari kolme katolista rukouskirjaa\nsek\u00e4 pinon muitakin kirjoja. Kaikki ne panin huolellisesti talteen.\nPaperia, kyn\u00e4\u00e4 ja mustetta koetin k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 hyvin s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4v\u00e4isesti.\nKirjoittelin muistiin n\u00e4kemi\u00e4ni ja kuulemiani niin kauan kuin mustetta\nriitti, mutta kun se loppui, muistiinpanotkin keskeytyiv\u00e4t, sill\u00e4\nuutta mustetta en pystynyt valmistamaan.\nNiin kuin ennen jo olen maininnut, olin ensi kertaa laivalla\nk\u00e4ydess\u00e4ni tuonut mukanani kaksi kissaa ja koiran. Niiden\nmerkillisist\u00e4 vaiheista kerron my\u00f6hemmin enemm\u00e4n. Koira oli minulle\nmonen pitk\u00e4n vuoden kuluessa uskollinen yst\u00e4v\u00e4. Kaikki ampumani\notukset se kantoi luokseni, mitk\u00e4 suinkin jaksoi. Siin\u00e4 minulla oli\nainainen seurakumppani. Ei puuttunut muuta kuin ett\u00e4 se olisi osannut\npuhua.\nAjan kuluessa oli minulla syyt\u00e4 kaivata muutakin kuin mustetta. Ei\nollut lapiota eik\u00e4 kuokkaa, ei neuloja eik\u00e4 lankaa. Mit\u00e4\nalusvaatteisiin tulee, niin totuin jo aikaisin olemaan niit\u00e4 vailla.\nV\u00e4hitellen alkoi tila teltassa tuntua ahtaalta, kun se oli hujan hajan\nsullottu t\u00e4yteen kaikenlaista tavaraa. Saadakseni enemm\u00e4n tilaa\nrupesin laajentamaan keitti\u00f6t\u00e4ni. Eik\u00e4 se varsin vaikeata ollutkaan,\nkun vuori oli haurasta hiekkakive\u00e4. Laajensin luolaa oikealle jonkin\nmatkaa ja siit\u00e4 yh\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n oikealle, kunnes sain puhkaistuksi aukon\nvuoren toiseen kylkeen. Ja siten oli minulla nyt mukava k\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4\nlinnaani.\nKohta sen j\u00e4lkeen rupesin rakentamaan tarpeellisia huonekaluja.\nIstuimista ja p\u00f6yd\u00e4st\u00e4 minulla varsinkin oli puute. T\u00e4ss\u00e4 sain taas\nsen kokemuksen, ett\u00e4 pakko on paras opettaja. Minulla oli t\u00e4h\u00e4n saakka\nollut, kuten sanotaan, peukalo keskell\u00e4 k\u00e4mment\u00e4; en ollut ikin\u00e4 viel\u00e4\nkunnon ty\u00f6kalua k\u00e4dess\u00e4ni pidellyt, mutta nyt, kun tarve vaati, kapine\ntoisensa per\u00e4st\u00e4 py\u00f6r\u00e4hti kuin py\u00f6r\u00e4htikin valmiina k\u00e4sist\u00e4ni. Syntyi\np\u00f6yt\u00e4 ja tuoleja. Luolan seiniin ilmestyi v\u00e4hitellen hyllyj\u00e4 eri\ntarve-esineille ja talouskaluille. Seiniin l\u00f6in koukkuja, joihin\nripustin pyssyt ja muut esineet. Loppujen lopuksi oli luolani kuin\nhyvin varustettu kauppa. Ja n\u00e4in oli kullakin esineell\u00e4 oma paikkansa.\nMy\u00f6hemmin rupesin pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4iv\u00e4kirjaa ja pidin niin kauan kuin\nmustetta riitti. Liit\u00e4n muutamia otteita t\u00e4h\u00e4n.\nViides luku\nOtteita p\u00e4iv\u00e4kirjasta. -- Uusia havaintoja ja askarteluja. Luolan\nlaajentaminen. -- Kesy vuohi. -- Ohran ja riisin oraita. -- Ankara\nmaanj\u00e4ristys.\nP\u00c4IV\u00c4KIRJASTANI\n_Vuonna 1659 syyskuun 30. p_. Jouduttuani haaksirikkoon kauheassa\nmyrskyss\u00e4 min\u00e4 viheli\u00e4inen Robinson Crusoe p\u00e4\u00e4sin v\u00e4hiss\u00e4 hengin\nmaihin t\u00e4h\u00e4n kolkkoon ja karuun saareen, jonka nimitin \"Ep\u00e4toivon\nsaareksi\". Kaikki muut laivalla olleet hukkuivat. [P\u00e4iv\u00e4kirjasta\nj\u00e4t\u00e4mme t\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien pois ne kohdat, joista edell\u00e4 on jo mainittu.\n(Toimittaja.)]\n_Lokakuun 1.-24. p_. K\u00e4vin monta kertaa laivalla ja toin sielt\u00e4\nlautoilla, mit\u00e4 suinkin voin. N\u00e4in\u00e4 p\u00e4ivin\u00e4 on satanut paljon, vaikka\nv\u00e4list\u00e4 on ollut kauniitakin ilmoja. N\u00e4kyy olevan sadeaika k\u00e4siss\u00e4.\n_Lokakuun 26.-29. p_. Olen ollut ankarassa ty\u00f6ss\u00e4, nimitt\u00e4in\nsiirrellyt tavaroita uuteen asuntooni. V\u00e4list\u00e4 on satanut hyvinkin\nrankasti.\n_Marraskuun 1. p_. Nukuin y\u00f6ni ensi kertaa teltassa.\n_Marraskuun 3. p_. Ammuin kaksi sorsan n\u00e4k\u00f6ist\u00e4 lintua. Sangen\nmaukaslihaisia.\n_Marraskuun 4. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4tin, mit\u00e4 mihinkin aikaan p\u00e4iv\u00e4st\u00e4 teen.\nJa t\u00e4llainen tuli p\u00e4iv\u00e4j\u00e4rjestyksest\u00e4ni: aamulla k\u00e4velen pari kolme\ntuntia pyssy mukanani, milloin ei sada; sitten teen ty\u00f6t\u00e4 kello\nyhteentoista asti; sen j\u00e4lkeen sy\u00f6n, mit\u00e4 milloinkin sattuu olemaan;\nkahdestatoista kahteen lep\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 silloin on kova helle;\niltap\u00e4iv\u00e4ll\u00e4 askaroin j\u00e4lleen.\n_Marraskuun 5. p_. K\u00e4vin koirani kanssa mets\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja ammuin mets\u00e4kissan.\nLiha ei kelvannut ruoaksi, mutta nahka oli sangen pehme\u00e4. Minulla on\ntapana nylke\u00e4 kaikki el\u00e4imet, mitk\u00e4 saan ammutuksi, ja s\u00e4ilytt\u00e4\u00e4\nniiden nahat. Palatessani takaisin pitkin merenrantaa n\u00e4in\nkaikenlaisia vesilintuja, mutta en tuntenut niit\u00e4. H\u00e4mm\u00e4styin, jopa\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4hdinkin, huomattuani kaksi hyljett\u00e4. Menin katsomaan niit\u00e4, mutta\nne puikahtivat veteen ja p\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kerralla k\u00e4sist\u00e4ni.\n_Marraskuun 7. p_. Pouta-aika n\u00e4kyy alkavan. T\u00e4m\u00e4n kuun 8., 9., 10. ja\nosittain 12. (11. oli sunnuntai) meni minulta tuolin tekemiseen.\nSyntyih\u00e4n siit\u00e4 jonkinlainen, mutta ei se minua oikein miellyt\u00e4. T\u00e4ll\u00e4\nv\u00e4lin paiskasin monta tekelett\u00e4 s\u00e4p\u00e4leiksi.\n_Muist_. Pian minulta j\u00e4iv\u00e4t sunnuntaitkin viett\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4. En n\u00e4et tullut\njoka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 vet\u00e4neeksi piirtoa almanakkapylv\u00e4\u00e4seen, niin etten lopulta\nollut selvill\u00e4, mik\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4 milloinkin oli.\n_Marraskuun 13. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n satoi. Se virkisti minua sanomattomasti ja\nvilvoitti ilman.\n_Marraskuun 17. p_. P\u00e4\u00e4tin ruveta laajentamaan luolaani, mutta minulta\npuuttui kolme ty\u00f6kalua, nimitt\u00e4in ter\u00e4kuokka, lapio ja ty\u00f6nt\u00f6k\u00e4rryt\ntai kori. Min\u00e4 miettim\u00e4\u00e4n, mill\u00e4 keinoin saisin n\u00e4m\u00e4 tarpeelliset\nkalut. Ter\u00e4kuokaksi kelpasi kyll\u00e4 rautakanki, vaikka olikin hiukan\nraskas. Vaikeampaa on lapion hankkiminen.\n_Marraskuun 18. p_. Mets\u00e4ss\u00e4 samoillessani l\u00f6ysin puun, jota\nBrasiliassa sanotaan rautapuuksi, koska se on hyvin kovaa. Suurella\nvaivalla sain siit\u00e4 hakatuksi palasen, vaikka kirveeni olikin siin\u00e4\nhommassa menn\u00e4 rikki, ja raahasin sen kotiin. Kauan kesti, ennenkuin\nsain veistetyksi jonkinlaisen lapion. Olisihan se tarvinnut\nhieman rautaa tueksi varteensa, mutta kesti se minun t\u00f6iss\u00e4ni\nsellaisenaankin. Tuskin on niin suurit\u00f6ist\u00e4 lapiota miss\u00e4\u00e4n muualla\nn\u00e4hty.\nKoria en saattanut tehd\u00e4, koska minulla ei ole siihen tarvittavia\npajuja valmiina, eik\u00e4 niit\u00e4 saarella n\u00e4kynyt kasvavankaan.\nTy\u00f6nt\u00f6k\u00e4rryjen kopan ja aisat olisin kukaties osannut tekaista, mutta\npy\u00f6r\u00e4\u00e4 en olisi pystynyt laatimaan, ja mist\u00e4p\u00e4 siihen olisin\nrauta-akselin ottanut? Luovuin koko hommasta ja tein sen sijaan\nsellaisen laatikon, jossa apulaiset meill\u00e4 kantavat savea muurareille.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 tosin ei ollut l\u00e4hesk\u00e4\u00e4n niin vaikea tehd\u00e4 kuin lapio, mutta\nkuitenkin minulta meni sen sek\u00e4 k\u00e4rryjen suunnittelemiseen yhteens\u00e4\nkokonaista nelj\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, lukuun ottamatta tietysti aamuhetki\u00e4. Harvoin\nn\u00e4et j\u00e4tin mets\u00e4lle menem\u00e4tt\u00e4 ja harvoin sielt\u00e4 saaliitta palasin\nkotiin.\n_Marraskuun 23. p_. Nyt ryhdyin luolaani laajentamaan, ja t\u00e4t\u00e4 ty\u00f6t\u00e4\nkesti yht\u00e4mittaa kahdeksantoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Koetin n\u00e4et saada siit\u00e4\naitan, keitti\u00f6n, ruokasalin ja kellarin. Y\u00f6t nukuin teltassa, paitsi\nsilloin kun satoi niin rankasti, ettei kaksinkertainenkaan teltta en\u00e4\u00e4\npit\u00e4nyt vett\u00e4. My\u00f6hemmin laitoinkin koko aitaukseni yli katoksen,\njossa pitkien seip\u00e4itten toinen p\u00e4\u00e4 oli kiinni vuoressa, toinen\npy\u00f6re\u00e4ll\u00e4 vallilla. Katteeksi panin oksia ja suuria lehti\u00e4.\n_Joulukuun 10. p_. Luulin luolani jo olevan kyllin tilava, kun \u00e4kki\u00e4\n-- olin kaiketikin tehnyt sen liian avaraksi -- sen toisessa p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\nsuuri m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 soraa putosi katosta maahan. S\u00e4ik\u00e4hdin kovasti eik\u00e4\nkummakaan, sill\u00e4 jos silloin olisin sattunut olemaan kohdalla, en\nikin\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 olisi haudankaivajaa tarvinnut. Siit\u00e4 sain uutta ty\u00f6t\u00e4;\nirtaantunut sora oli kannettava ulos ja, mik\u00e4 viel\u00e4kin vaikeampaa,\nkatto oli p\u00f6nkitett\u00e4v\u00e4, jottei moista vahinkoa en\u00e4\u00e4 sen koommin\nsattuisi.\n_Joulukuun 11. p_. Pystytin luolan kattoa vasten kaksi pylv\u00e4st\u00e4,\nkummankin yl\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 on kaksi lautaa ristikk\u00e4in. Seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4\npanin viel\u00e4 muutamia pylv\u00e4it\u00e4 lis\u00e4ksi, niin ett\u00e4 katto oli viikon\nper\u00e4st\u00e4 aivan taattu. Riviin pannut pylv\u00e4\u00e4t jakoivat nyt luolankin\nuseaan eri osastoon.\n_Joulukuun 20. p_. T\u00e4ytyi laittaa monille tavaroilleni toinenkin\np\u00f6yt\u00e4.\n_Joulukuun 24. p_. En p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt lainkaan ulos, sill\u00e4 satoi yht\u00e4 mittaa\nkoko y\u00f6n ja p\u00e4iv\u00e4n.\n_Joulukuun 25. p_. Satanut koko p\u00e4iv\u00e4n.\n_Joulukuun 26. p_. Sade lakannut. Ilma paljon raittiimpi ja kauniimpi.\n_Joulukuun 27. p_. Ammuin nuoren vuohen ja haavoitin toista. Sain\nviimeksimainitun kiinni ja talutin sen mets\u00e4st\u00e4 kotiin. Sorkka oli\nmennyt silt\u00e4 poikki. Panin sen lastoihin.\n_Muist_. Pidin hell\u00e4\u00e4 huolta vuohesta, ja niinp\u00e4 se j\u00e4i eloon;\nsorkkakin parani t\u00e4ydellisesti. Olin hoitanut sit\u00e4 niin kauan, ett\u00e4 se\ntuli vihdoin kesyksi, k\u00e4vi sy\u00f6m\u00e4ss\u00e4 nurmea penkereell\u00e4 eik\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4\nyritt\u00e4nytk\u00e4\u00e4n karata. T\u00e4st\u00e4 sain aiheen ruveta ajattelemaan, ett\u00e4\nminun pit\u00e4isi v\u00e4hitellen kasvattaa karja, jotta minulla olisi ruokaa,\nkun ruudit ja lyijyt loppuvat.\n_Joulukuun 28.-31. p_. Kovaa hellett\u00e4 ja tyynt\u00e4. Ei ollut\nmenemist\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ulos muulloin kuin illalla. Asettelin sill\u00e4 aikaa\ntavaroitani j\u00e4rjestykseen.\n_Tammikuun 3. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n rupesin rakentamaan jo ennen mainitsemaani\nvallia penkereelleni. Mainittakoon t\u00e4ss\u00e4, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4t\u00e4 raskasta ty\u00f6t\u00e4\nkesti 14. p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n huhtikuuta, jolloin sen lopullisesti sain valmiiksi.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin k\u00e4vin joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 mets\u00e4ll\u00e4, milloin vain sateelta saatoin,\nja aina havaitsin jotain uutta ja hy\u00f6dyllist\u00e4. Niinp\u00e4 kerrankin\ntapasin er\u00e4\u00e4nlaisia mets\u00e4kyyhkysi\u00e4, jotka eiv\u00e4t tehneet pes\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4\npuuhun, niin kuin meill\u00e4, vaan kallionkoloihin. Otin pes\u00e4st\u00e4 muutamia\npoikasia ja toin ne kotiin muka kesytt\u00e4\u00e4kseni ne, mutta suuremmaksi\nkasvettuaan ne lensiv\u00e4t tiehens\u00e4, kenties siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4, ettei minulla\nollut niille soveliasta ruokaa. Usein kuitenkin l\u00f6ysin yh\u00e4 uusia pesi\u00e4\nja kannoin monta makeata paistia kotiin.\nKoettaessani saada talouteni yh\u00e4 parempaan kuntoon huomasin tuon\ntuostakin, kuinka paljon tarpeellisia esineit\u00e4 minulta sent\u00e4\u00e4n\npuuttui. Enk\u00e4 niit\u00e4 kaikkia pystynyt tekem\u00e4\u00e4nk\u00e4\u00e4n. Niinp\u00e4 en\nmilloinkaan onnistunut valmistamaan tynnyri\u00e4. Olihan minulla mallina\nmuutamia nassakoita, kuten jo olen maininnut, ja viikkom\u00e4\u00e4ri\u00e4\nkoetinkin niit\u00e4 j\u00e4ljitell\u00e4, mutta turhaan. En osannut panna pohjaa\nenk\u00e4 liitt\u00e4\u00e4 lautoja niin tarkasti toisiinsa, ett\u00e4 astia olisi pit\u00e4nyt\nvett\u00e4. Hylk\u00e4sin pian koko homman.\nKipe\u00e4sti kaipasin kynttil\u00f6it\u00e4kin. Nukkumaan minun t\u00e4ytyi k\u00e4yd\u00e4 heti\npime\u00e4n tultua, joka t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 tavallisesti alkaa jo kello seitsem\u00e4n\ntienoissa. Muistui nyt mieleeni vahakimpale, joka minulla oli\nAfrikassa seikkaillessani, mutta t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4h\u00e4n ei vahaa ollut saatavissa.\nAinoa keino oli ker\u00e4t\u00e4 ampumieni vuohien rasvaa. Sit\u00e4 panin sitten\nsavesta tekem\u00e4\u00e4ni ja p\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa polttamaani maljaan, kiersin\nsiihen tappuroita syd\u00e4meksi ja siten sain lampun, vaikkei sen liekki\nniin tasainen ollut kuin kynttil\u00e4n.\nTavaroita penkoillessani sattui kerran k\u00e4siini muuan pieni pussi,\njosta jo ennen olen maininnut. Siin\u00e4 oli ollut ohran ja riisin jyvi\u00e4\nlaivassa olleita lintuja varten, mutta rotat olivat sy\u00f6neet ne melkein\nkaikki, niin ettei j\u00e4ljell\u00e4 ollut muuta kuin kuoret ja tomua. Kun\nniin\u00e4 aikoina tarvitsin pusseja, muistaakseni ruutivarastoni jakamista\nvarten pienempiin osiin -- pudistelin silloin siemenpussin tyhj\u00e4ksi\ntoiselle puolelle linnaani, m\u00e4en juurelle.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 tapahtui juuri ennen kuin edell\u00e4mainitut sateet alkoivat. En\nkiinnitt\u00e4nyt siihen sen enemp\u00e4\u00e4 huomiota ja olin jo enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt unohtaa\nkoko asian, kun kerran -- taisi olla kuukautta my\u00f6hemmin -- n\u00e4in\nmaassa vihreit\u00e4 taimia, joita ennen en ollut t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 n\u00e4hnyt. Kuinka\nsuuri olikaan h\u00e4mm\u00e4stykseni hiukan my\u00f6hemmin, kun huomasin maasta\nnousevan kymmenkunta vihre\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4hk\u00e4\u00e4, ilmeisesti eurooppalaisia,\ntarkemmin sanoen englantilaisia ohrant\u00e4hki\u00e4.\nEn osaa sanoin selitt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4mm\u00e4styst\u00e4ni. Kaikki uskonnolliset tunteet\nolivat t\u00e4h\u00e4n saakka olleet minulle outoja; tuskin milloinkaan olin\nasioita uskonnolliselta kannalta harkinnut. Kaikki, mit\u00e4 minulle t\u00e4h\u00e4n\nsaakka oli tapahtunut, oli mielest\u00e4ni ollut vain pelkk\u00e4\u00e4 sattumaa,\neli, niinkuin ihmiset tavallisesti sanovat, Jumalan sallimaa. En ollut\nyritt\u00e4nytk\u00e4\u00e4n tutkiskella Sallimuksen tarkoituksia tai sit\u00e4\ns\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6nmukaisuutta, jota Jumala noudattaa hallitessaan maailmaa. Mutta\nnyt, n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni tuon ohran kasvavan t\u00e4ss\u00e4 ilmanalassa, mik\u00e4 ei\nlainkaan ole viljankasvulle suotuisa, ja varsinkin kun en tiennyt,\nmiten se oli t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 idulle noussut, vavahti syd\u00e4n rinnassani. Minusta\nalkoi tuntua, ett\u00e4 Jumala oli ihmeellisell\u00e4 tavalla pannut\nkylv\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4n siemenen t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 it\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, nimenomaan minun elatuksekseni\nt\u00e4ss\u00e4 karussa, viheli\u00e4isess\u00e4 seudussa.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 liikutti mielt\u00e4ni ja kyyneleet kiertyiv\u00e4t silmiini. Miekkonen\nmin\u00e4, ajattelin, jonka t\u00e4hden moinen luonnonihme oli tapahtunut! Ja\nyh\u00e4 suuremmaksi k\u00e4vi kummastukseni, kun v\u00e4h\u00e4n matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 n\u00e4in\nmuitakin korsia. Siin\u00e4 kasvoi riisi\u00e4, min\u00e4 tunsin sen, sill\u00e4 Afrikassa\nolin kyll\u00e4 n\u00e4hnyt tuon viljalajin kasvavan.\nEik\u00e4 siin\u00e4 kyllin, ett\u00e4 pidin n\u00e4it\u00e4 Sallimuksen l\u00e4hett\u00e4min\u00e4 yksin\nminua varten; olinpa vakuutettu siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 niit\u00e4 kasvoi t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nrunsaammaltikin.\nL\u00e4hdin tarkastelemaan saarta ristiin rastiin, t\u00e4hystelin jokaiseen\nsoppeen ja sopukkaan, jokaikisen m\u00e4en juurelle, mutta viljaa ei\nn\u00e4kynyt miss\u00e4\u00e4n. Viimein muistinkin karistaneeni vanhan siemenpussin\nt\u00e4h\u00e4n paikkaan, ja samassa tuli ihmeest\u00e4kin loppu, ja -- se t\u00e4ytyy\nminun tunnustaa -- rupesi kiitollisuus Jumalaa kohtaan syd\u00e4mess\u00e4ni\nsammumaan: min\u00e4 huomasin muka, ettei t\u00e4m\u00e4 mik\u00e4\u00e4n ihme ollutkaan, vaan\naivan tavallinen asia. Kyll\u00e4 minun olisi pit\u00e4nyt olla yht\u00e4 kiitollinen\nn\u00e4in oudosta ja odottamattomasta huolenpidosta kuin ihmeest\u00e4kin, sill\u00e4\nolihan ilmeist\u00e4 Jumalan ty\u00f6t\u00e4 minua kohtaan, ett\u00e4 nuo kymmenkunta\nsiement\u00e4 olivat s\u00e4ilyneet rotilta, tulleet kuin taivaasta. Ja Jumalan\nohjaustahan oli sekin, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 tulin pudistelleeksi ne juuri\nt\u00e4llaiseen siimespaikkaan, miss\u00e4 ne heti itiv\u00e4t. Jos ne t\u00e4h\u00e4n aikaan\nvuodesta olisin muualle karistanut, niin p\u00e4iv\u00e4 olisi ne polttanut\npilalle.\nSanomattanikin on selv\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kun t\u00e4hk\u00e4t olivat kypsyneet -- se\ntapahtui kes\u00e4kuun lopulla -- korjasin huolellisesti jokaikisen jyv\u00e4n\nsiemeniksi tuleville viljasadoille, joista toivoin ajan mittaan\nsaavani niin runsaasti jyvi\u00e4, ett\u00e4 niist\u00e4 riitt\u00e4isi minulle leiv\u00e4ksi.\nMutta vasta nelj\u00e4n vuoden kuluttua uskalsin sy\u00f6d\u00e4 oman pellon viljaa,\nsilloinkin vain varsin niukalti. Syyn\u00e4 oli se, ett\u00e4 ensimm\u00e4isen sadon\nsiemen meni minulta melkein kokonaan hukkaan, kun kylvin juuri ennen\npouta-ajan alkua. Vain muutamat siemenet koko kylv\u00f6st\u00e4ni jaksoivat\nit\u00e4\u00e4.\nPaitsi ohraa, oli minun tiet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4ni noussut pari-, kolmekymment\u00e4\nriisinkin orasta. Niist\u00e4kin saamani siemenet otin talteen uutiskylv\u00f6\u00e4\nvarten.\nMutta palaanpa j\u00e4lleen p\u00e4iv\u00e4kirjaani.\n_Huhtikuun 16. p_. Saatuani linnoitukseni parhaiksi valmiiksi olin\nv\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4 menett\u00e4\u00e4 kaikki monikuukautisten t\u00f6itteni ja vaivojeni\nhedelm\u00e4t; olinpa itsekin joutua surman suuhun. Ty\u00f6skennelless\u00e4ni\nkerran teltan takana aivan luolan oven suulla tapahtui jotakin\nkauheata. Kuului kumea jyr\u00e4hdys: suuret m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t soraa putosi alas\nluolan katosta ja samoin vuoren huipulta p\u00e4\u00e4ni yl\u00e4puolella; kaksi\nkaton kannattimiksi pystytetty\u00e4 pylv\u00e4st\u00e4 murtui hirve\u00e4ll\u00e4 rymin\u00e4ll\u00e4.\nMin\u00e4 s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdin tavattomasti. Tiet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4ni viel\u00e4 syyt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4h\u00e4n\ntapaukseen, luullen vain luolan katon luhistuneen niinkuin kerran\nennenkin ja pel\u00e4ten joutuvani itsekin alas putoilevan soran alle,\nriensin kiireimm\u00e4n kaupalla portaille ja hypp\u00e4sin alas vallin toiselle\npuolelle. Siell\u00e4 luulin nyt olevani turvassa, mutta tuskin olin\np\u00e4\u00e4ssyt sinne, niin jo huomasin, ett\u00e4 saarella k\u00e4vi ankara\nmaanj\u00e4ristys: maassa jalkojeni alla tunsin kolme hirve\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4r\u00e4hdyst\u00e4,\nnoin kahdeksan minuutin v\u00e4liajoin, ja niin valtavaa, ett\u00e4 vahvinkin\nrakennus olisi kutistunut maan tasalle. Er\u00e4\u00e4n vuoren huipulta, puolen\npeninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 merelle p\u00e4in, irtaantui suuri kivilohkare ja tuli\nalas niin kamalalla jyskeell\u00e4, etten moista ollut viel\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4ni\nkuullut. Merikin oli ankarassa liikkeess\u00e4: t\u00e4r\u00e4hdykset meren alla\nn\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t olevan viel\u00e4 kovempia kuin maan sis\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nEnsi kertaa n\u00e4in nyt maanj\u00e4ristyksen omin silmin, ilmankos se\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4stytti minua niin, ett\u00e4 olin kuin puolikuollut tai kivettynyt.\nMinusta tuntui aivan samalta kuin meritaudin alkaessa. Irtaantuneen\nvuorenhuipun pauhina her\u00e4tti minut vihdoin huumauksestani.\nS\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksiss\u00e4ni en osannut luulla muuta kuin ett\u00e4 vuori kukistuu\ntelttani yli ja hautaa allensa kaikki, mit\u00e4 minulla on. Ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 ajatus\nsai veren hyytym\u00e4\u00e4n suonissani.\nKolmannen t\u00e4r\u00e4hdyksen j\u00e4lkeen j\u00e4ristys n\u00e4kyi taukoavan, ja min\u00e4\nrohkaisin mieleni. En uskaltanut kuitenkaan viel\u00e4 menn\u00e4 vallin yli,\nvaan istahdin maahan ep\u00e4toivoissani ja neuvottomana -- mit\u00e4 minun nyt\npit\u00e4isi tehd\u00e4? Mieleeni ei tullut koko aikana ainoatakaan\nuskonnollista ajatusta, paitsi tuota tavanmukaista: \"Herra, armahda\nminua!\" Mutta kun h\u00e4t\u00e4 oli ohi, niin meni sekin tunnelma ohi.\nTaivas vet\u00e4ytyi nyt paksuun pilveen, nousi tuuli, joka paisui\npaisumistaan, eik\u00e4 kulunut puolta tuntiakaan, niin oli jo mit\u00e4 hirvein\nrajumyrsky valloillaan: meri pauhasi lakkap\u00e4iss\u00e4 ja tyrskyt pieksiv\u00e4t\nhurjasti rantaa. Kolme tuntia raivosi myrsky yht\u00e4mittaa, kunnes se\nalkoi v\u00e4hitellen hiljet\u00e4 ja tyyntyi vihdoin kokonaan. Kahden tunnin\nkuluttua alkoi sataa hyvin rankasti. K\u00e4sitin nyt, ett\u00e4 kaikki t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli\nyhteydess\u00e4 maanj\u00e4ristyksen kanssa, ja koska itse j\u00e4ristys oli nyt\nmennyt ohitse, uskalsin vihdoin palata linnaani. Istuin telttaani,\nmutta sade oli niin ankara, ett\u00e4 uhkasi ly\u00f6d\u00e4 koko teltan maahan.\nT\u00e4ytyi v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 menn\u00e4 luolaan, vaikka minua pelottikin, ett\u00e4 katto\nputoaisi p\u00e4\u00e4lle.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n sateen aikana, jota kesti koko y\u00f6n ja seuraavan p\u00e4iv\u00e4nkin,\np\u00e4\u00e4tin puhkaista valliini rei\u00e4n ja kaivaa vallin l\u00e4pi kourun, jota\nmy\u00f6ten linnoituksen sis\u00e4\u00e4n ker\u00e4ytynyt sadevesi p\u00e4\u00e4sisi valumaan pois;\nmuutoinhan luola joutuisi tulvan alle.\nMaanj\u00e4ristys meni menojaan, rajuilma tyyntyi, sade lakkasi ja\nmielenikin tuli entiselleen. Rupesin mietiskelem\u00e4\u00e4n, miten nyt el\u00e4m\u00e4ni\nj\u00e4rjest\u00e4isin. Arvelin ett\u00e4 koska saarella n\u00e4kyy tapahtuvan\nmaanj\u00e4ristyksi\u00e4, on luolassa asuminen sangen vaarallista. Luolahan\nsaattaisi seuraavan j\u00e4ristyksen aikana sortua, vuorenhuippu juuri\nlinnoituksen yl\u00e4puolelta saattaisi lohjeta irti ja haudata alleen\nkaiken omaisuuteni ja minut itsenikin. Minun oli siis v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4\netsitt\u00e4v\u00e4 muualta turvallisempi paikka. Haikealta tuntui tosin\najatella, ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyi siirty\u00e4 pois asunnostani, jossa kaikki jo\noli niin hyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 j\u00e4rjestyksess\u00e4 ja johon olin jo enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt tottua.\nMutta minun oli pakko luopua siit\u00e4. Niin pian kuin l\u00f6yd\u00e4n sopivan\npaikan, rupean rakentamaan itselleni uutta linnaa. Siihen saakka minun\nt\u00e4ytyy pakostakin asua t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4. Sellainen oli p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6kseni.\nKuudes luku\nTahko. -- Laivanhylky rannalla. -- Hy\u00f6dyllisi\u00e4 tavaroita laivasta. --\nKuumetauti. -- Kauhea uni. -- Raamattu. -- Saan lohdutusta siit\u00e4.\n_Huhtikuun 22. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n minun piti ryhty\u00e4 ty\u00f6h\u00f6n, niin kuin eilen\nolin p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt, mutta kovin tuntuva oli taas ty\u00f6kalujen puute. Olihan\nminulla kolme piilua ja suuret m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t kirveit\u00e4 (aikoinaan aiotut\nvaihtotavaraksi intiaaneille), mutta n\u00e4m\u00e4 ter\u00e4aseet olivat kovien\npuitten hakkaamisesta k\u00e4yneet tylsiksi. Oli tahkokin, mutta kukapa\nsit\u00e4 olisi minulle v\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4nyt? Siin\u00e4 oli minulla miettimist\u00e4 ja\npohtimista kuin hyv\u00e4ll\u00e4kin valtiomiehell\u00e4 t\u00e4rke\u00e4\u00e4 valtiollista pulmaa\nselvitelless\u00e4 tai tuomarilla, joka harkitsee kuolemantuomiota.\nVihdoin, monen puuhan ja ponnistuksen j\u00e4lkeen sain valmiiksi py\u00f6r\u00e4n,\njoka oli hihnalla yhdistetty polkimeen. T\u00e4ten sain tahkon k\u00e4ym\u00e4\u00e4n\njalkavoimalla, niin ett\u00e4 kumpikin k\u00e4si oli vapaana. Mutta kokonainen\nviikko minulta meni sen rakentamiseen, ja raskaanpuoleinen siit\u00e4\nsittenkin tuli.\n_Huhtikuun 28.-29. p_. N\u00e4m\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4t meniv\u00e4t ter\u00e4aseitten tahkoamiseen.\n_Huhtikuun 30. p_. Raskaaksi k\u00e4vi mieleni huomattuani leip\u00e4varojeni\nalkavan tuntuvasti v\u00e4het\u00e4. P\u00e4\u00e4tin t\u00e4st\u00e4 puolin sy\u00f6d\u00e4 vain korpun\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4.\n_Toukokuun 1. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4 aamuna satuin pakoveden aikana katsahtamaan\nmerelle ja huomasin rannalla jonkin tavattoman suuren esineen. L\u00e4hdin\nkatsomaan ja l\u00f6ysin pienen tynnyrin ja kolme palasta s\u00e4rkyneest\u00e4\nlaivastamme. Viime myrsky oli n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti ajanut laivanj\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6ksen\nl\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi rantaa ja irroittanut siit\u00e4 osia. Itse laivanhylky oli\nentist\u00e4 korkeammalla. K\u00e4vin heti tarkastamassa tynnyri\u00e4 ja huomasin\nsen olevan t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 ruutia, joka kuitenkin oli kastunut ja kovaa kuin\nkivi. Vieritin sen maihin ja l\u00e4hdin l\u00e4hemmin tutkimaan laivanhylky\u00e4.\nEnnen oli minun t\u00e4ytynyt uida laivan luokse; nyt oli niin paljon\nhiekkaa noussut laivan ja rannan v\u00e4liin, ett\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sin sinne kuivin\njaloin. Kummalliselta t\u00e4m\u00e4 ensin vaikutti, mutta sitten muistin\nmaanj\u00e4ristyksen ja arvelin, ett\u00e4 se oli saanut aikaan muutoksia\nmerenpohjassa. Laivan asemakin oli muuttunut. Kokka, joka ennen oli\nollut painuneena hiekkaan, oli nyt kohonnut ainakin kuusi jalkaa. Jo\naikoja sitten irti lohjennut per\u00e4puoli oli kallistunut kyljelleen. Ja\nsiksip\u00e4 aallot katkoivat siit\u00e4 nyt yh\u00e4 useampia palasia ja toivat\nrantaan.\nMuuttohommat j\u00e4iv\u00e4t nyt syrj\u00e4\u00e4n, kun aloin mietti\u00e4, miten p\u00e4\u00e4sisin\nlaivan sis\u00e4\u00e4n. Se oli kuitenkin mahdotonta, sill\u00e4 hiekka oli tukkinut\nkaikki aukot. Olin kuitenkin jo oppinut, ettei milloinkaan saa lakata\ntoivomasta, ja niinp\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4tin koettaa saada laivan pala palalta maihin,\nsill\u00e4 kaikesta mit\u00e4 omakseni siit\u00e4 saan, on minulle oleva hy\u00f6ty\u00e4\ntavalla tai toisella.\n_Toukokuun 3. p_. Sahasin poikki paksun palkin, joka n\u00e4kyi kannattavan\nkokan kantta. Koetin sitten luoda hiekkaa pois korkeimmalta kohdalta,\nmutta palaava nousuvesi pakotti minut keskeytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ty\u00f6ni.\n_Toukokuun 4. p_. L\u00e4hdin kalastamaan, mutta en pitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan saanut\nyht\u00e4\u00e4n ruoaksi kelpaavaa kalaa. Olin jo heitt\u00e4m\u00e4isill\u00e4ni sikseen koko\npuuhan, kun viimeinkin sain kalan, jonka tiesin kelpaavan sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4ksi.\nMinulla oli pitk\u00e4, puretusta k\u00f6ydest\u00e4 tehty siima, ja vaikka\nkoukkujakin puuttui, niin sain kuitenkin kaloja riitt\u00e4miin asti.\nKuivasin ne p\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa ja s\u00f6in kapakaloina.\n_Toukokuun 5. p_. Sahasin toisenkin palkin ja sain hylyst\u00e4 irti kolme\nkansilankkua. Sidoin ne yhteen ja laskin nousuveden mukana ajautumaan\nrantaan.\n_Toukokuun 6. p_. Olin laivanhylyll\u00e4. Sain irti muutamia rautapultteja\nja muita rautaesineit\u00e4. Kotiin tultuani olin niin v\u00e4synyt, ett\u00e4\najattelin j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 n\u00e4m\u00e4 ponnistukset kokonaan.\n_Toukokuun 7. p_. Menin taas aikani kuluksi laivanhylylle. Se oli\nomasta painostaan lohjennut kahtia, koska sidepalkit eiv\u00e4t en\u00e4\u00e4 olleet\npit\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4 kiinni. Sisus oli n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4, mutta melkein t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 vett\u00e4 ja\nhiekkaa.\n_Toukokuun 8. p_. Kansi oli puhdas vedest\u00e4 ja hiekasta. Kangella\nirrotin kaksi lankkua ja uitin ne rantaan. Kangen j\u00e4tin sinne\nhuomiseksi.\n_Toukokuun 9. p_. P\u00e4\u00e4sin kangen avulla laivan sis\u00e4\u00e4n. Siell\u00e4 tuntui\nolevan useitakin tynnyreit\u00e4. Irrotin ne paikaltaan, mutta en saanut\nniit\u00e4 murretuksi auki. N\u00e4in my\u00f6s suuren kiskon englantilaista ter\u00e4st\u00e4,\nmutta se oli liian raskas liikutella.\nToukokuun 10:nnest\u00e4 kes\u00e4kuun 15:nteen k\u00e4vin laivalla harva se p\u00e4iv\u00e4.\nTuuli oli sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt hajoittaa laivan ja ajanut sen\nj\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6kset viel\u00e4 entist\u00e4 l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi rantaa. Paitsi lautoja, lankkuja\nja hirsi\u00e4 sain sielt\u00e4 viel\u00e4 rautaa ja lyijylevynpalasia. Nyt minulla\noli tarpeeksi veneen aineksia. Kunpa vain tiet\u00e4isin, miten vene\ntehd\u00e4\u00e4n!\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 17. p_. Eilen sain ammutuksi merenrannalla suuren\nkilpikonnan. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n koetin keitt\u00e4\u00e4 sit\u00e4. L\u00f6ysin sen sis\u00e4lt\u00e4\nkuusikymment\u00e4 munaa. Liha oli makeinta mit\u00e4 milloinkaan olen sy\u00f6nyt.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 18. p_. Satoi koko p\u00e4iv\u00e4n. Sade tuntui kylm\u00e4lt\u00e4, omituista\nkyll\u00e4 n\u00e4ill\u00e4 leveysasteilla. Vilutti hiukan.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 19. p_. Vilunpuistatuksia. Tuntuu kuin ilma olisi kylmennyt.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 20. p_. Y\u00f6 oli levoton. P\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 kivist\u00e4\u00e4 kovasti. Kuumetta.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 21. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n olen voinut hyvin huonosti. T\u00e4m\u00e4 tuskallinen\ntila tuntuu kauhealta: olen sairas enk\u00e4 saa apua mist\u00e4\u00e4n. Rukoilin\nJumalaa -- ensi kertaa sen myrskyn j\u00e4lkeen, jossa olin ollut Hullin\nedustalla. Tuskin tiesin mit\u00e4 sanoinkaan, sill\u00e4 ajatukseni olivat niin\nsekavat.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 22. p_. Vointini on hiukan parempi, mutta yh\u00e4 pelottaa, ett\u00e4\nt\u00e4ytyy asettua vuoteeseen.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 23. p_. Vointini varsin huono, vilunpuistatuksia ja ankaraa\np\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4rky\u00e4.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 24. p_. Voin jo paljon paremmin.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 25. p_. Kovia puistatuksia ja kuumetta taas. Kohtaus kesti\nseitsem\u00e4n tuntia yht\u00e4mittaa. Sen j\u00e4lkeen hikoilin ankarasti.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 26. p_. Tuntuu taas paremmalta. Koska kotona ei ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n\ntuoretta ruokaa, l\u00e4hdin pyssyineni mets\u00e4lle, mutta olin kovin heikko.\nAmmuin vuohen ja sain sen suurella vaivalla kannetuksi kotiin.\nPaistoin palasen vartaalla ja s\u00f6in. Olisin keitt\u00e4nyt lihalient\u00e4, mutta\nei ollut astiaa.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 27. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n oli taas niin ankaraa vilutusta ja kuumetta,\nett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyi koko p\u00e4iv\u00e4n olla vuoteessa, sy\u00f6m\u00e4tt\u00e4, juomatta. Olin\nn\u00e4\u00e4ntym\u00e4isill\u00e4ni janoon, mutta olin niin heikko, etten kyennyt\nhakemaan vett\u00e4. Rukoilin j\u00e4lleen, mutta ajatukseni olivat sekavia ja\nvaikka ne selvisiv\u00e4tkin, en osannut muuta kuin voivotella: \"Katso\npuoleeni, Herra! Herra, armahda minua!\" T\u00e4t\u00e4 kesti luullakseni pari\nkolme tuntia. Senj\u00e4lkeen meni kuumeenpuuska ohitse, min\u00e4 nukuin\nmy\u00f6h\u00e4\u00e4n y\u00f6h\u00f6n asti. Her\u00e4tty\u00e4ni tuntui paljon paremmalta, mutta janotti\nkauheasti. En kuitenkaan jaksanut nousta vett\u00e4 hakemaan. Siin\u00e4 t\u00e4ytyi\nvain virua, kunnes aamulla j\u00e4lleen nukuin. Ja nyt n\u00e4in kauhean unen.\nOlin istuvinani aitauksen ulkopuolella samassa paikassa, miss\u00e4\nmaanj\u00e4ristyksen aikana olin istunut. Paksusta mustasta pilvest\u00e4 astui\nalas mies kirkkaissa tulenliekeiss\u00e4, jotka valaisivat koko maan. Niin\nr\u00e4ike\u00e4 oli valo h\u00e4nen ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 silm\u00e4ni tuskin sietiv\u00e4t sit\u00e4\nkatsella, ja niin kauheat miehen kasvot, etten sit\u00e4 kykene sanoin\nselitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n. Kun h\u00e4n laski jalkansa tantereelle, tuntui kuin maa olisi\nt\u00e4r\u00e4hdellyt kuten maanj\u00e4ristyksess\u00e4kin tuonnoin, ja ilma tuntui\nv\u00e4risev\u00e4n salamoiden leimauksista. Tuskin oli mies enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt astua\nmaahan, kun h\u00e4n jo l\u00e4hti kulkemaan minua kohti k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n pitk\u00e4 keih\u00e4s,\nvalmiina pist\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n minut kuoliaaksi. L\u00e4heiselle m\u00e4enkukkulalle\nsaavuttuaan h\u00e4n lausui minulle -- ainakin olin kuulevinani hirmuisen\n\u00e4\u00e4nen puhuvan -- mutta muuta en h\u00e4nen puheestaan ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4nyt kuin n\u00e4m\u00e4\nsanat: \"Vaikka kaikki n\u00e4m\u00e4 n\u00e4hnyt olet, et kuitenkaan ole katumusta\ntehnyt; siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4 pit\u00e4\u00e4 sinun nyt kuoleman.\" Ja n\u00e4in sanottuaan h\u00e4n\nojensi keih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 minua kohti tappaakseen minut.\nEi kai kukaan, joka t\u00e4m\u00e4n lukee, olettane, ett\u00e4 kykenisin kuvailemaan\nsieluni tuskaa sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4. Samassa her\u00e4sinkin, mutta yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4\nkauhusta vavisten.\nUskonnollista ajattelutapaa ei minulla valitettavasti ollut lainkaan.\nKaikki tieto jumalisuuden asioissa, mink\u00e4 olin is\u00e4lt\u00e4ni saanut, oli\nenn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt kahdeksan pitk\u00e4n vuoden aikana haihtua merimiesel\u00e4m\u00e4n\nmoninaisissa vaiheissa ja sellaisten ihmisten seurassa, jotka olivat\nyht\u00e4 kelvottomia ja jumalattomia kuin min\u00e4 itsekin. En muista koko\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n ajan kuluessa kertaakaan ajatelleeni Jumalaa enk\u00e4 tutkiskelleeni\nitse\u00e4ni. Minut oli vallannut jonkinlainen hengen tympeys: minussa ei\nollut pahan tuntemusta, ei hyv\u00e4n kaipausta. En pel\u00e4nnyt Jumalaa h\u00e4d\u00e4n\nhetken\u00e4, en kiitt\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nt\u00e4 h\u00e4d\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ni.\nMutta nyt, k\u00e4rsiess\u00e4ni taudin kovissa kourissa, n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni kuoleman\nverkalleen astuvan eteeni, tuntiessani ruumiini voimien raukeavan ja\najatusteni harhailevan sekavina, kauan nukuksissa ollut omatuntoni\nher\u00e4si. Nyt johtuivat mieleeni is\u00e4ni viimeiset varoitussanat minulle:\n\"Jos mielett\u00f6m\u00e4n aikeesi toteutat, ei Jumala sinulle siunaustaan anna,\nja joskus kun olet yp\u00f6yksin\u00e4si, avuttomana ja neuvottomana, olet kyll\u00e4\npahoillasi muistaessasi, ett\u00e4 hylk\u00e4sit is\u00e4si neuvot.\" Is\u00e4n ennustus\noli k\u00e4ynyt toteen. Olisin saattanut el\u00e4\u00e4 hiljaista, rauhallista\nel\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4, mutta olin itse sys\u00e4nnyt sellaisen onnen luotani ja joutunut\nnyt t\u00e4h\u00e4n viheli\u00e4iseen tilaan, jossa olin niin yksin, niin neuvoton,\nniin avuton. Ja minulta p\u00e4\u00e4si huuto: \"Herra, auta minua, sill\u00e4 olen\nsuuressa murheessa!\" T\u00e4m\u00e4 oli ensimm\u00e4inen rukous, mik\u00e4 vuosikausiin\noli syd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni kohonnut. Mutta palaanpa taas p\u00e4iv\u00e4kirjaani.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 28. p_. Her\u00e4tty\u00e4ni tunsin olevani paljon virke\u00e4mpi, vaikka\n\u00e4skeinen uneni minua yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4kin hirvitti. Pel\u00e4ten taudinpuuskan taas\nuudistuvan huomenna p\u00e4\u00e4tin jollain tavoin vahvistaa voimiani. Ensi\nty\u00f6kseni kaasin suuren lasipullon t\u00e4yteen vett\u00e4 ja asetin sen viereeni\nk\u00e4den ulottuville. Silt\u00e4 varalta, ettei vesi olisi puhdasta ja\nterveellist\u00e4, sekoitin siihen rommia. Hain sitten palasen vuohenlihaa\nja paistoin sen hiilill\u00e4, mutta en sy\u00f6nyt kuin pienen palasen.\nIllalliseksi paistoin tuhkassa kolme kilpikonnan munaa, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli\nmuistaakseni el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4ni ensimm\u00e4inen ateria, jolle rukoilin Jumalan\nsiunausta.\nIlta alkoi pimet\u00e4. Kun ei minua viel\u00e4 lainkaan nukuttanut, sytytin\nlampun ja istahdin tuolille. Ajattelin mennytt\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4ni. Mietin\nsiin\u00e4, miten Jumala, joka on kaiken luonut, kaikesta my\u00f6s pit\u00e4\u00e4\nhuolta. H\u00e4n tiet\u00e4\u00e4 kaikki. H\u00e4n tiet\u00e4\u00e4 minunkin viheli\u00e4isen tilani,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen tahdostaan t\u00e4m\u00e4kin on tapahtunut. Ja koska niin on, olen\nh\u00e4nen vallassaan ja huomassaan.\nMieless\u00e4ni yh\u00e4 edelleen tuo kaiketi huomenna uudistuva taudinpuuska\nsatuin muistamaan, ett\u00e4 brasilialaiset k\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4t tupakkaa l\u00e4\u00e4kkeen\u00e4\nmelkein kaikkiin tauteihin ja ett\u00e4 minulla er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 arkussa oli sek\u00e4\nvalmista tupakkaa ett\u00e4 vihreit\u00e4 tupakanlehti\u00e4.\nL\u00e4hdin noutamaan sit\u00e4, ja itse taivas silloin askeleitani johti, sill\u00e4\ntuosta arkusta l\u00f6ysin l\u00e4\u00e4kett\u00e4 sek\u00e4 ruumiilleni ett\u00e4 sielulleni.\nAvasin arkun ja l\u00f6ysin sielt\u00e4 etsim\u00e4ni tupakat, mutta samalla huomasin\nsiell\u00e4 ne monet kirjatkin, jotka olin laivasta pelastanut, ja otin\nesiin yhden Raamatun. T\u00e4h\u00e4n saakka minulla ei ollut ollut tilaisuutta\neik\u00e4 haluakaan lukea sit\u00e4.\nEn ollenkaan tiennyt, mill\u00e4 tavoin tupakkaa oli k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4 l\u00e4\u00e4kkeen\u00e4,\nmutta koetin menetell\u00e4 useallakin tavalla. Pistin ensin palasen\ntupakanlehte\u00e4 suuhuni ja rupesin sit\u00e4 pureskelemaan, mutta p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4ni\nrupesi py\u00f6rrytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, koska olin siihen tottumaton. Panin sitten\nhiukan tupakkaa rommiin tunniksi tai pariksi aikoen nukkumaan\nmenness\u00e4ni juoda sen. Koetin viel\u00e4 polttaa tupakkaa hiilill\u00e4 ja vet\u00e4\u00e4\nsen savua henkeeni niin paljon kuin jaksoin siet\u00e4\u00e4.\nN\u00e4itten kokeilujen v\u00e4lill\u00e4 koetin lukea Raamattua. P\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4ni huimasi\nkuitenkin niin, ettei lukemisesta tahtonut tulla mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Umpim\u00e4hk\u00e4\u00e4n\navattuani Raamatun sattuivat n\u00e4m\u00e4 sanat silmieni eteen: \"Avuksesi\nhuuda minua h\u00e4d\u00e4ss\u00e4si, niin min\u00e4 tahdon auttaa sinua, ja sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4\nkunnioittaman minua.\" N\u00e4m\u00e4 sanat soveltuivat juuri minun tilaani. Ne\ntekiv\u00e4t minuun ensi lukemalta vaikutuksen, mutta eiv\u00e4t kuitenkaan niin\nsyv\u00e4\u00e4 kuin my\u00f6hemmin, sill\u00e4 sanalla \"auttaa\" ei viel\u00e4 ollut\nvastakaikua minussa. Kun Israelin lapsille luvattiin lihaa, napisivat\nhe sanoen: \"Voiko Jumala kattaa meille p\u00f6yd\u00e4n korvessa?\" Samoin\nmin\u00e4kin sanoin: \"Voiko Jumala itse tulla auttamaan ja pelastamaan\nminut t\u00e4lt\u00e4 saarelta?\"\nOli jo my\u00f6h\u00e4. Tupakka oli huumannut minua niin, ett\u00e4 minua alkoi\nnukuttaa. J\u00e4tin lampun palamaan ja menin vuoteeni \u00e4\u00e4reen. Mutta ennen\nkuin k\u00e4vin nukkumaan, tein jotain, mit\u00e4 en ikin\u00e4 ennen ollut tehnyt:\nlankesin polvilleni ja rukoilin Jumalaa t\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n lupauksensa ja\nauttamaan minua, kun h\u00e4nt\u00e4 h\u00e4d\u00e4ss\u00e4ni huudan.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n lyhyen ja katkonaisen rukouksen j\u00e4lkeen join tupakalla\nv\u00e4kev\u00f6itetty\u00e4 rommia, mutta se oli niin kitker\u00e4\u00e4 ja voimakasta, ett\u00e4\ntuskin pariakaan kulausta sain sit\u00e4 alas. Heti sen j\u00e4lkeen k\u00e4vin\nvuoteeseen. Juoma nousi heti p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4ni, mutta pian vaivuin syv\u00e4\u00e4n uneen\nenk\u00e4 her\u00e4nnyt siit\u00e4 ennen kuin seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kello kolmen\ntienoissa iltap\u00e4iv\u00e4ll\u00e4. Oikeastaan -- siit\u00e4 olen varma viel\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4kin\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 -- nukuin koko seuraavankin p\u00e4iv\u00e4n ja y\u00f6n ja her\u00e4sin siis\nvasta kahden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua kello kolmen tienoissa, sille muuten en\nosaa selitt\u00e4\u00e4, miten olisin ajanlaskussani j\u00e4\u00e4nyt yhden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\nj\u00e4ljelle, niin kuin monta vuotta j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in k\u00e4vi selville.\nOli miten oli, her\u00e4tty\u00e4ni tunsin olevani sangen virke\u00e4 ja reippaalla\nmielell\u00e4. Eik\u00e4 taudinpuuska seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 uudistunutkaan.\nVoimanikin alkoivat v\u00e4hitellen palata.\n_Kes\u00e4kuun 30. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n kykenin menem\u00e4\u00e4n mets\u00e4lle. Ammuin pari\nhanhentapaista vesilintua, mutta niiden liha ei miellytt\u00e4nyt minua.\nS\u00f6in j\u00e4lleen muutamia kilpikonnan munia. Otin uudestaan tupakkarommia,\njoka n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti oli tehnyt minulle hyv\u00e4\u00e4.\n_Hein\u00e4kuun 1. p_. T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n taas puistatuksia, paljon lievempin\u00e4\nkuitenkin kuin eilen.\nTaudin kourista olin nyt p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt, mutta viikkoja kesti viel\u00e4, ennen\nkuin tulin aivan entiselleni. Usein palasivat mieleeni nuo sanat:\n\"Min\u00e4 tahdon auttaa sinua.\" Yh\u00e4 vain n\u00e4ytti pelastukseni\nmahdottomalta, kunnes vihdoin apeimmillani ollessani tulin\najatelleeksi, ett\u00e4 liian paljon murehdin pelastumistani t\u00e4lt\u00e4 saarelta\nja unohdin kokonaan, mist\u00e4 kaikesta jo olin pelastunut. Olin\npelastunut ankarasta taudista, ja mit\u00e4 min\u00e4 puolestani olin tehnyt?\nJumala oli minut pelastanut -- ent\u00e4 min\u00e4? Olinko ollut kiitollinen\nh\u00e4nelle siit\u00e4? Kuinka voisin toivoa viel\u00e4 suurempaa pelastusta? T\u00e4m\u00e4\npisti syd\u00e4meeni, ja silloin lankesin polvilleni ja kiitin h\u00e4nt\u00e4, joka\noli minut p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4nyt taudistani.\nRupesin nyt lukemaan Raamattua aamuin illoin, en m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttyj\u00e4 lukuja\nkerrallaan, vaan mink\u00e4 verran milloinkin jaksoin. Mit\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n luin,\nsit\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n mieleni sai rohkaisua ja sit\u00e4 lujemmaksi k\u00e4vi\nvakaumukseni, ett\u00e4 Jumala kuulee minun rukoukseni. T\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien\nk\u00e4sitin tuon luvatun pelastuksen toisella tavalla: pelastuminen\nsynnist\u00e4 on paljon t\u00e4rke\u00e4mp\u00e4\u00e4 kuin pelastuminen h\u00e4d\u00e4st\u00e4.\nHein\u00e4kuun 4.-14. p:n\u00e4 vain pist\u00e4ydyin mets\u00e4ll\u00e4 p\u00e4ivitt\u00e4in, sill\u00e4 olin\nyh\u00e4 edelleenkin heikko. K\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4ni l\u00e4\u00e4ke oli aivan uutta; tuskin sit\u00e4\nsiin\u00e4 muodossa on koskaan kuumetta vastaan k\u00e4ytetty. Enk\u00e4 sit\u00e4 juuri\nmuille suosittele, sill\u00e4 vaikka se minut paransikin, tunsin viel\u00e4\nkauan aikaa j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in itseni heikoksi.\nNyt olin ollut t\u00e4ss\u00e4 kovan onnen saaressa kymmenen kuukautta. Minulla\nei ollut pienint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n toivoa p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 pois, ja olin varma siit\u00e4,\nettei ihmisjalka viel\u00e4 koskaan ollut tallannut t\u00e4m\u00e4n saaren tannerta.\nSaatuani nyt valmiiksi kelvollisen asunnon p\u00e4\u00e4tin tutkia perinpohjin\nkoko saaren, saadakseni selville, oliko siell\u00e4 muitakin\nluonnontuotteita kuin ne, joihin t\u00e4h\u00e4n menness\u00e4 olin tutustunut.\nSeitsem\u00e4s luku\nSamoiluja saarella. -- Monenlaisia hedelm\u00e4puita. -- Huvila. --\nPerheenlis\u00e4ys. -- Oppirahoja. -- Vuodenajat.\nHein\u00e4kuun 15. p:n\u00e4 rupesin l\u00e4hemmin tutkimaan saarta.\nL\u00e4hdin ensin kulkemaan yl\u00f6sp\u00e4in sen joen rantaa, johon lauttani ensi\nkerralla olin ohjannut. Kuljettuani pari peninkulmaa huomasin, ettei\nnousuvesi en\u00e4\u00e4 ulottunut sinne saakka. Siell\u00e4 joki olikin pieni puro,\njossa raikas vesi juosta lirisi. Nyt, kuivana vuodenaikana se oli\npaikoitellen aivan vedet\u00f6n. Kummallakin rannalla levisi vihantia,\nruohoa kasvavia niittyj\u00e4. Yl\u00e4vimmill\u00e4 paikoilla, jonne tulva ei\nn\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti ulottunut, kasvoi pitk\u00e4\u00e4, paksuvartista tupakkaa. Siell\u00e4\nkasvoi muitakin, kenties hyvinkin arvokkaita kasveja, mutta en\ntuntenut niit\u00e4.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 menin samaa tiet\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4n kauemmaksi. Purosta en en\u00e4\u00e4\nn\u00e4hnyt j\u00e4lke\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. Vuorimaitten takana alkoi maisema k\u00e4yd\u00e4\nmets\u00e4isemm\u00e4ksi. T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 oli monenlaatuisia hedelmi\u00e4, varsinkin meloneja\nja viiniryp\u00e4leit\u00e4. K\u00f6ynn\u00f6kset luikertelivat puusta puuhun, ja tertut\nolivat kypsimmill\u00e4\u00e4n, makeita ja mehukkaita. T\u00e4m\u00e4 oli hauska l\u00f6yt\u00f6. En\nkuitenkaan sy\u00f6nyt niit\u00e4 kovin paljon, sill\u00e4 muistin viel\u00e4 hyvin, miten\nmuutamat orjat Afrikassa ollessani olivat niist\u00e4 sairastuneet, jopa\nkuolleetkin. Keksin niille paremman k\u00e4ytt\u00f6tavan: kuivasin ne\np\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa rusinoiksi ja sain siten terveellist\u00e4 ruokaa niiksi\najoiksi, jolloin ryp\u00e4leit\u00e4 ei kasva.\nSiell\u00e4 sitten vietin koko sen illan ja nukuin y\u00f6ni puussa. T\u00e4m\u00e4 oli\nensimm\u00e4inen y\u00f6, mink\u00e4 olin kotoani poissa. Kodiksi asuntoani t\u00e4st\u00e4\nl\u00e4htien sanoinkin.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kuljin nelj\u00e4n peninkulman verran pohjoista kohti,\nkahden vuorensel\u00e4nteen v\u00e4lisen laakson poikki, ja saavuin aukiolle,\njosta maa n\u00e4kyi alenevan l\u00e4nteen p\u00e4in. Muuan pieni, kirkasvetinen\npuro, joka l\u00e4hti vuoren rinteest\u00e4, juoksi p\u00e4invastaiseen suuntaan.\nKaikki oli t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 niin raikasta, vihantaa ja kukoistavaa, ett\u00e4 saatoin\nkuvitella olevani ihmisk\u00e4tten hoitamassa puutarhassa. Kuljin jonkin\nmatkaa t\u00e4h\u00e4n rehev\u00e4\u00e4n laaksoon. Salaista mielihyv\u00e4\u00e4 tuntien ihailin\nkaunista maisemaa edess\u00e4ni, vaikka samalla olin hiukan haikealla\nmielell\u00e4. N\u00e4in siin\u00e4 itsekseni ajattelin: min\u00e4 olen kaiken tuon\nkuningas ja valtias, min\u00e4 omistan tuon kaiken, ja jos voisin vied\u00e4 sen\nmukanani kotimaahan, niin olisi minulla yht\u00e4 uljas perint\u00f6maa kuin\njollakin aatelisella Englannissa.\nSiell\u00e4 kasvoi runsaasti kookospalmuja, appelsiini- ja sitruunapuita,\nmutta ei niiss\u00e4 ollut hedelmi\u00e4 kuin varsin niukalti, ainakaan t\u00e4h\u00e4n\naikaan vuodesta. Vihre\u00e4t sitruunat olivat kuitenkin hyv\u00e4nmakuisia.\nTiesin niiden olevan terveellisi\u00e4 ja my\u00f6hemmin pusersin niiden mehua\njuomaveteen, joka siit\u00e4 sai raikkaan maun.\nTy\u00f6t\u00e4 n\u00e4kyi tulevan ylt\u00e4kyllin, ennen kuin saisin hedelm\u00e4t ker\u00e4tyksi\nja kannetuksi kotiin. P\u00e4\u00e4tin seuraavalla kerralla ottaa mukaani s\u00e4kin\nja kokosin nyt viiniryp\u00e4leet yhteen l\u00e4j\u00e4\u00e4n, appelsiinit ja sitruunat\ntoiseen. Mutta saavuttuani parin kolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua takaisin\nkohtasi minua harmillinen n\u00e4ky: suuri osa viiniryp\u00e4leist\u00e4 oli sy\u00f6ty,\nmuut hedelm\u00e4t oli viskelty hujan hajan ja poljettu piloille.\nN\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti oli el\u00e4imi\u00e4 k\u00e4ynyt t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 mellastamassa, en vain tiennyt\nmink\u00e4laisia. Vahingosta viisastuneena ker\u00e4sin j\u00e4lleen suuret m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t\nryp\u00e4leit\u00e4, mutta ripustin ne puitten oksille kuivumaan. Sitruunoita ja\nappelsiineja kannoin kotiin niin suuren s\u00e4killisen kuin suinkin\njaksoin.\nSuloinen oli mielest\u00e4ni t\u00e4m\u00e4 hedelm\u00e4llinen laakso, niin rauhallinen ja\nniin kokonaan mets\u00e4n suojassa rannan raivoavilta myrskyilt\u00e4, etten\nsit\u00e4 voinut verratakaan nykyiseen asuinpaikkaani. Kotiin tultuani en\nv\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan muuta miettinytk\u00e4\u00e4n kuin siirtymist\u00e4 sinne. Tarkemmin\nasiaa harkittuani pidin kuitenkin parhaana pysy\u00e4 entisess\u00e4 paikassani.\nT\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4h\u00e4n toki olin meren rannalla ja oli siis ainakin pieni\nmahdollisuus p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 saarelta pois, jos n\u00e4k\u00f6piiriini tulisi laiva. Jos\ntaas muuttaisin saaren sis\u00e4osaan, merkitsisi se samaa kuin ett\u00e4\nvapaaehtoisesti l\u00e4htisin elinkautiseen vankeuteen. P\u00e4\u00e4tin siis asua\nedelleenkin alussa rakentamassani linnassa. Mutta olin sittenkin niin\nihastunut tuohon laaksoon, ett\u00e4 vietin enimm\u00e4n aikani siell\u00e4 aina\nhein\u00e4kuun loppuun saakka rakennettuani sinne pienen teltan\npurjekankaasta ja pystytetty\u00e4ni sen ymp\u00e4rille miehenkorkuisista\nseip\u00e4ist\u00e4 kaksinkertaisen aidan, jonka v\u00e4lin t\u00e4ytin puitten oksilla.\nAidan yli johtivat t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4kin nuoraportaat. Siell\u00e4 olin turvassa ja\nsiell\u00e4 vietin usein pari kolmekin y\u00f6t\u00e4 per\u00e4kk\u00e4in. Kuvittelin\nmieless\u00e4ni, ett\u00e4 minulla oli p\u00e4\u00e4rakennus merenrannalla ja huvila\nsis\u00e4maassa.\nElokuun 3. p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 k\u00e4vin katsomassa puitten oksille ripustamiani\nryp\u00e4leit\u00e4: ne olivat p\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa kuivuneet, ja niin sain sielt\u00e4\nkotiini pari sataa suurta tertullista hyvi\u00e4 rusinoita. Hyv\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan\nne sainkin korjatuksi, sill\u00e4 heti sen j\u00e4lkeen alkoi sadeaika, ja minun\nt\u00e4ytyi pysytell\u00e4 kokonaan vanhassa asunnossani, sill\u00e4 vuoressahan olin\nhyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 turvassa ja luola oli paras pakopaikka rajumyrskyjen ja\npahimpien sateitten aikana. Varsinaista sadekautta kesti elokuun\n14:nnest\u00e4 lokakuun keskivaiheille saakka. Vett\u00e4 tuli taivaasta\nyhten\u00e4\u00e4n, milloin hiljemmin, milloin kovemmin, v\u00e4liin niin rankasti,\netten moneen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt ulos.\nNoihin aikoihin sattui minulle suuri yll\u00e4tys: perhe lis\u00e4\u00e4ntyi. Kauan\naikaa oli toinen kissani ollut kateissa. Luulin sen jo joutuneen\nsurman suuhun. Mutta er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 elokuun lopulla se suureksi\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4styksekseni tuli kotiin kolme poikasta mukanaan. Hauskaahan se\ntavallaan oli, mutta ajan mittaan kissat lis\u00e4\u00e4ntyiv\u00e4t siin\u00e4 m\u00e4\u00e4rin,\nett\u00e4 niist\u00e4 oli vain vaivaa ja vastusta. Minun t\u00e4ytyi lopuksi alkaa\nh\u00e4vitt\u00e4\u00e4 niit\u00e4 kuin mit\u00e4kin mets\u00e4npetoja.\nElokuun 13.-16:ntena jatkui rankkasade. En p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt pist\u00e4ytym\u00e4\u00e4nk\u00e4\u00e4n\nmets\u00e4lle, sill\u00e4 mieleni ei tehnyt kastua l\u00e4pim\u00e4r\u00e4ksi; mutta kun\nruokavaroista jo alkoi olla puute, t\u00e4ytyi pakostakin l\u00e4hte\u00e4 jotain\nriistaa pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n. Kerran sain ammutuksi vuohen, toisen kerran\nkilpikonnan. Nyt oli taas ruokaa, jopa herkkuakin, ylt\u00e4kyllin. Ja\nt\u00e4llaiseksi nyt muodostui ruokaj\u00e4rjestys: aamiaiseksi rusinoita;\np\u00e4iv\u00e4lliseksi vartaalla paistettua vuohen tai kilpikonnanlihaa;\nillalliseksi pari kolme kilpikonnanmunaa. Valitettavasti minulla ei\nollut astioita, miss\u00e4 olisin voinut keitt\u00e4\u00e4 ruokaani.\nSadeajan kest\u00e4ess\u00e4 k\u00e4ytin pari kolme tuntia p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4 luolani\nlaajentamiseen viel\u00e4 suuremmaksi, kunnes v\u00e4hitellen sain vuoren\ntoiseenkin laitaan aukon, ja siit\u00e4 min\u00e4 sen j\u00e4lkeen kuljin sis\u00e4\u00e4n ja\nulos. Nyt p\u00e4\u00e4si luolaani tosin muualtakin kuin aidan yli, mutta mit\u00e4p\u00e4\nvaaraa siit\u00e4 olisi ollut? Eih\u00e4n t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ollut sen pahempia petoja kuin\nvuohia!\n_Syyskuun 30. p._ T\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n on onnettoman haaksirikon vuosip\u00e4iv\u00e4. Luin\nn\u00e4et piirut almanakkapylv\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ni: niit\u00e4 oli 365. M\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4sin t\u00e4m\u00e4n p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\npaastop\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi. N\u00f6yr\u00e4n\u00e4 notkistin polveni Herran edess\u00e4, tunnustin\nh\u00e4nelle syntini, taivuin h\u00e4nen oikeihin tuomioihinsa ja rukoilin armoa\nJeesuksen Kristuksen kautta. Kahteentoista tuntiin en sy\u00f6nyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n.\nVasta auringon laskettua s\u00f6in korpun ja tertun rusinoita ja k\u00e4vin\nsitten nukkumaan p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en p\u00e4iv\u00e4ni niin kuin olin alkanutkin. Koko\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 oloni aikana en ollut pit\u00e4nyt pyh\u00e4p\u00e4ivi\u00e4: ensin en ollut\ntuntenut siihen tarvetta, sitten olin j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt pylv\u00e4\u00e4seeni vet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4\npitempi\u00e4 viivoja sunnuntain kohdalle, niin etten pitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan ollut\nosannut erottaa viikon p\u00e4ivi\u00e4. Mutta nyt, laskettuani piirut, p\u00e4\u00e4sin\ntaas p\u00e4iv\u00e4in lukuun.\nN\u00e4ihin aikoihin alkoi mustekin loppua, niin ett\u00e4 sit\u00e4 t\u00e4ytyi k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4\nhyvin s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4v\u00e4isesti. T\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien kirjoitinkin muistiin vain\nkaikkein t\u00e4rkeimm\u00e4t tapahtumat.\nV\u00e4hitellen selvisi minulle sade- ja pouta-aikojen s\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6llinen\nvaihtelu, ja sit\u00e4 mukaa koetin j\u00e4rjest\u00e4\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4ni ja erilaiset ty\u00f6ni.\nMutta oppirahoja minun oli maksettava, ennen kuin n\u00e4iss\u00e4 asioissa\ntodella viisastuin. Siit\u00e4 olkoon esimerkkin\u00e4 seuraava kiusallinen\ntapaus.\nNiinkuin muistettaneen, olin ottanut t\u00e4hk\u00e4t talteen niist\u00e4 ohran- ja\nriisinkorsista, jotka olivat nousseet maasta ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin ihmeen kautta.\nNiit\u00e4 lienee ollut pari-, kolmekymment\u00e4 kortta kumpaakin laatua. Nyt\nkun sade oli loppunut ja aurinko k\u00e4\u00e4ntynyt etel\u00e4\u00e4n, arvelin parhaan\nkylv\u00f6ajan olevan k\u00e4siss\u00e4. Muokkasin puisella lapiollani jonkin verran\nmaata, jaoin sen kahteen osaan ja kylvin siemenet. Kesken kylv\u00e4mist\u00e4\njohtui \u00e4kki\u00e4 mieleeni: enp\u00e4 kylv\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n kaikkia siemeni\u00e4 yhtaikaa, sill\u00e4\neih\u00e4n ollut varmaa, oliko nyt paras kylv\u00f6aika. Niinp\u00e4 panin talteen\nkourallisen jyvi\u00e4 kumpaakin lajia.\nHyvin siin\u00e4 tein, sill\u00e4 n\u00e4ist\u00e4 nyt kylv\u00e4mist\u00e4ni jyvist\u00e4 ei noussut\nidulle ainoakaan, sill\u00e4 kun sadekausi oli loppunut, sit\u00e4 seurasi\nkolmen kuukauden yht\u00e4mittainen pouta. Vasta seuraavana sadeaikana ne\nnousivat oraalle, niin kuin olisivat olleet juuri kylvettyj\u00e4.\nHuomattuani ensimm\u00e4isen yrityksen menneen aivan hukkaan etsin\nkosteamman paikan l\u00e4helt\u00e4 huvilaani ja kylvin sinne loput siemenet\nv\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4 ennen kev\u00e4tp\u00e4iv\u00e4n tasausta. Kun maalis- ja huhtikuussa taas tuli\nsateita, nousi t\u00e4m\u00e4kin kylv\u00f6 oraalle. Sato oli niukka, sain ainoastaan\nnoin puoli pecki\u00e4 [n. 4,5 litraa] kumpaakin viljalajia. N\u00e4ist\u00e4\nkokeista oli kuitenkin se etu, ett\u00e4 nyt tiesin, milloin oli otollisin\nkylv\u00f6aika. Tiesin senkin, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 voi kylv\u00e4\u00e4 kahdesti vuodessa ja\nkorjata kaksi satoa.\nViljan kasvaessa tein er\u00e4\u00e4n havainnon, josta minulla my\u00f6hemmin oli\npaljon hy\u00f6ty\u00e4. L\u00e4hdin n\u00e4et kerran huvilalleni, jossa en ollut k\u00e4ynyt\nmuutamaan kuukauteen. Kaikki oli siell\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 kunnossa, jopa entist\u00e4\nparemmassakin: riu'ut, joista kaksinkertainen aitaus oli tehty, olivat\nt\u00e4ll\u00e4 v\u00e4lin alkaneet versoa pitki\u00e4 oksia, niinkuin pajupuu\ntavallisesti tekee ensimm\u00e4isen\u00e4 vuotena, kun se katkaistaan latvasta.\nOlin hyvin mieliss\u00e4ni n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni aidaksien vihannoivan. Karsin ja\nleikkasin niit\u00e4 saadakseni ne levi\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n yhdenmukaisesti, ja ne\nversoivatkin niin runsaasti, ett\u00e4 kolmen vuoden kuluttua aitauksen\nsis\u00e4puolella oli t\u00e4ydellisesti suojassa p\u00e4iv\u00e4n polttavilta s\u00e4teilt\u00e4 ja\nse muodosti tiiviin, vett\u00e4 pit\u00e4v\u00e4n katoksen sateittenkin aikana.\nSamanlaisen vihannoivan kaksoisaidan rakensin ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4\nensimm\u00e4isenkin asuntoni ymp\u00e4rille entisen paaluaidan lis\u00e4ksi, ja siit\u00e4\noli minulle my\u00f6hemmin verraton hy\u00f6ty, kuten saadaan n\u00e4hd\u00e4.\nEnnen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 olin selvill\u00e4 siit\u00e4, ettei t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 niinkuin Euroopassa voi\npuhua talvesta ja kes\u00e4st\u00e4, vaan vuosi jakaantuu sadekausiin ja\npoutakausiin seuraavassa j\u00e4rjestyksess\u00e4:\nPuoliv\u00e4list\u00e4 helmikuuta puoliv\u00e4liin huhtikuuta sateita; aurinko\nl\u00e4hell\u00e4 kev\u00e4tp\u00e4iv\u00e4n tasauspistett\u00e4.\nHuhtikuun puoliv\u00e4list\u00e4 elokuun puoliv\u00e4liin poutaa; aurinko\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan pohjoispuolella.\nPuoliv\u00e4list\u00e4 elokuuta puoliv\u00e4liin lokakuuta sateita; aurinko l\u00e4hell\u00e4\nsyysp\u00e4iv\u00e4n tasauspistett\u00e4.\nLokakuun puoliv\u00e4list\u00e4 helmikuun puoliv\u00e4liin poutaa; aurinko\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan etel\u00e4puolella.\nPoikana olin kotona usein seisoskellut katselemassa korinpunojan ty\u00f6t\u00e4\nja, niinkuin poikain tapa on, v\u00e4liin pyrkinyt auttamaan mestaria, niin\nett\u00e4 itsekin p\u00e4\u00e4sin aina jotain n\u00e4pertelem\u00e4\u00e4n. Sitten oli v\u00e4hitellen\noppinut korinpunomisen ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 taito oli nyt t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 hyv\u00e4\u00e4n tarpeeseen.\nAineksia sain samoista pajuista, joista olin ottanut salkoja\naitauksiini. Ja niin oli minulla jonkin ajan kuluttua joukko suurempia\nja pienempi\u00e4 korjeja ja vasuja.\nKorinpunontaan ja pajuaitauksen rakentamiseen minulta kului koko\npouta-aika, niin etten muihin t\u00f6ihin enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt ryhty\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. Kovasti\nkaipasin astioita, kun minulla ei ollut muita kuin laivalta saamani\nkattila, joka oli liian suuri, ja muutamia lasipulloja sek\u00e4 pari\nnassakkaa, jotka viel\u00e4 olivat t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 rommia.\nKahdeksas luku\nTutkimusmatka saaren toiselle rannalle. -- Papukaija. -- Karjan alku.\n-- Elonkorjuun huolia ja iloja.\nP\u00e4\u00e4tin kerran taas l\u00e4hte\u00e4 l\u00e4hemmin tarkastamaan saartani silt\u00e4 puolen,\nmiss\u00e4 huvilani sijaitsi. Otin mukaani kirveen, pyssyn ja runsaasti\nampumatarvikkeita, pistin laukkuuni kaksi laivakorppua ja tertun\nrusinoita ja niin l\u00e4hdin koirani kanssa taipaleelle. Kuljettuani sen\nlaakson poikki, miss\u00e4 huvilani oli, aukeni l\u00e4nness\u00e4 meri eteeni.\nKaukana taivaanrannassa erotin maata. Mannertako lienee ollut vai\nsaari, en osannut sanoa, mutta korkealle merenpinnasta se kohosi,\nulottuen l\u00e4nness\u00e4 l\u00e4nsilounaaseen. Minun laskuni mukaan se oli ainakin\nviidentoista, ehk\u00e4p\u00e4 kahdenkymmenen meripeninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nAmerikkaan tuo maa kaiketikin kuuluu ja sijaitsi minun harkintojeni\nmukaan melko l\u00e4hell\u00e4 Espanjan siirtomaita. Jos niin on, arvelin, niin\ntottahan n\u00e4ill\u00e4 vesill\u00e4 ennemmin tai my\u00f6hemmin huomaan jonkin laivan\npurjehtivan joko sinne tai sielt\u00e4; ellen, se on Espanjan siirtomaitten\nja Brasilian v\u00e4list\u00e4 rannikkoa. Siell\u00e4 asuu kaikkein hurjimpia\nvillej\u00e4, ihmissy\u00f6ji\u00e4, jotka surmaavat ja sy\u00f6v\u00e4t suuhunsa jokaisen,\njoka heid\u00e4n k\u00e4siins\u00e4 vain joutuu. Kuinkahan minun olisi k\u00e4ynyt, jos\nolisin ajautunut heid\u00e4n rannalleen?\nN\u00e4iss\u00e4 mietteiss\u00e4 astuskelin eteenp\u00e4in huomaten, kuinka maisemat\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 olivat paljon miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4mpi\u00e4 kuin sill\u00e4 puolen saarta, miss\u00e4\nminun linnani oli: silm\u00e4ini edess\u00e4 avaroita, rehevi\u00e4 kukkaniittyj\u00e4 ja\nyltymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 kauniita metsi\u00e4. Siell\u00e4 asusti paljon papukaijoja, ja\nmieleni alkoi tehd\u00e4 sellaista itselleni: kesyt\u00e4n ja opetan sen\npuhumaan. Monen yrityksen j\u00e4lkeen minun vihdoin onnistui saada\nly\u00f6dyksi yht\u00e4 papukaijaa kepill\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 se putosi huumautuneena\nmaahan. Hetken kuluttua se virkosi, ja vein sen kotiini. Muutamia\nvuosia kesti kuitenkin, ennenkuin se oppi puhumaan. My\u00f6hemmin tulee\nt\u00e4st\u00e4 kumppanista viel\u00e4 puhe.\nHyvin hauskaa oli minulla t\u00e4ll\u00e4 matkalla. Alavilla paikoilla tapasin\nj\u00e4niksi\u00e4 -- j\u00e4niksiksi niit\u00e4 ainakin luulin -- ja kettuja, vaikka\nnekin olivat toisenlaisia kuin ennen n\u00e4kem\u00e4ni. Ammuin niit\u00e4 muutamia,\nmutta niiden lihasta ei ollut sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4ksi. Ei minulla nyt puutetta\nravinnosta ollut. Minulla oli runsaasti riistaa, nimitt\u00e4in vuohia,\nkyyhkysi\u00e4 ja kilpikonnia. Ja kun rusinat ja muut hedelm\u00e4t otetaan\nlukuun, ei minulta puuttunut herkkujakaan.\nP\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4 en mennyt milloinkaan kahta peninkulmaa kauemmaksi silt\u00e4\npaikalta, mink\u00e4 kulloinkin olin y\u00f6paikakseni m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4nnyt, mutta sen\nsijaan kuljeskelin tienoota niin moneen kertaan ristiin ja rastiin,\ntutkien ja tarkastellen, mit\u00e4 uutta siell\u00e4 olisi n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nv\u00e4syneen\u00e4 aina saavuin y\u00f6leiriini ja nukuin makeasti y\u00f6ni joko puussa\ntai pylv\u00e4sten suojassa, jotka l\u00f6in pystyyn maahan tahi puitten v\u00e4liin.\nT\u00e4ll\u00e4 rannalla liikkui lukemattomia kilpikonnia, kun taas omalla\npuolellani saarta en ollut puoleentoista vuoteen tavannut kuin kolme.\nLintujakin oli t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 suunnattomasti, vaikka outoja minulle kaikki,\npaitsi pingviinit. Muutamilla oli varsin maukas liha. Vuohia oli\nrunsaammin kuin toisella puolen saarta, vaikka t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 lakeilla mailla\noli paljon vaikeampaa p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pyssynkantaman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n.\nKauniimpikin t\u00e4m\u00e4 puoli saarta kielt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 oli, mutta sittenk\u00e4\u00e4n\nmieleni ei tehnyt muuttaa t\u00e4nne. Olin jo niin enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt kotiutua\nensimm\u00e4iseen paikkaani, ett\u00e4 pidin sit\u00e4 aivan luonnollisena\nasuinsijanani; muualla tuntui vieraalta. Kuljin kuitenkin merenrantaa\neteenp\u00e4in noin kaksitoista peninkulmaa, pystytin rannalle merkiksi\npitk\u00e4n seip\u00e4\u00e4n ja p\u00e4\u00e4tin l\u00e4hte\u00e4 kotiinp\u00e4in.\nKoska nyt mielest\u00e4ni tunsin saareni jo niin hyvin, ettei eksymisest\u00e4\nen\u00e4\u00e4 ollut pelkoa, p\u00e4\u00e4tin l\u00e4hte\u00e4 takaisin toista tiet\u00e4 kuin olin\ntullut. Mutta siin\u00e4 erehdyin. Tuskin n\u00e4et olin vaeltanut paria kolmea\npeninkulmaa, niin jouduin laajaan, korkeiden, mets\u00e4isten kallioiden\nymp\u00e4r\u00f6im\u00e4\u00e4n laaksoon, jossa en osannut suunnata matkaani muuten kuin\nauringon mukaan, mutta pahaksi onneksi laskeutui niin sakea sumu,\nettei kolmeen, nelj\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n n\u00e4kynyt aurinkoa lainkaan. Harhailin\nsinne t\u00e4nne ja lopulta minun oli pakko palata takaisin rannalle\npystytt\u00e4m\u00e4ni seip\u00e4\u00e4n luokse, josta sitten k\u00e4\u00e4nnyin kotia kohti samaa\ntiet\u00e4 kuin olin tullutkin. Kuljin sitten verkalleen lyhyit\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4matkoja, kun ilma oli tavattoman helteinen ja kantamukseni olivat\nsangen raskaita.\nT\u00e4ll\u00e4 matkalla yll\u00e4tti koirani kerran pienen vuohenkilin ja hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si\nsen kimppuun, mutta enn\u00e4tin v\u00e4liin ja sain sen el\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4 kiinni. Mieleni\nteki vied\u00e4 se kotiin, sill\u00e4 usein olin mietiskellyt, eik\u00f6 olisi\nmahdollista saada kesytetyksi pari vuohta suvun aluksi vuohikarjalle,\njoka olisi hyv\u00e4 olemassa vastedes, kun ruutini loppuisi. Sidoin sen\nkaulaan nuoran, jota aina kannoin laukussani mets\u00e4matkoilla, ja l\u00e4hdin\nsit\u00e4 kuljettamaan, mutta kesti kauan, ennen kuin sain vuohen kotiin.\nHuvilalle p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ni j\u00e4tin sen aitauksen sis\u00e4\u00e4n, ja l\u00e4hdin itse kotia\nkohti, josta olin ollut poissa jo kuukauden p\u00e4iv\u00e4t.\nOlin oikein mieliss\u00e4ni, kun taas p\u00e4\u00e4sin vanhaan linnaani ja sain\nj\u00e4lleen lev\u00e4t\u00e4 riippumatossa. Ja kaikki t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 tuntuikin niin\nkodikkaalta, niin omalta ja mukavalta, ett\u00e4 yh\u00e4 lujemmaksi tuli\np\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6kseni olla milloinkaan siirtym\u00e4tt\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 pois, kest\u00e4k\u00f6\u00f6np\u00e4 oloni\nt\u00e4ll\u00e4 saarella kuinka kauan hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nViikon verran lep\u00e4ilin matkan vaivoista rakennellen h\u00e4kki\u00e4 Pollille,\npapukaijalleni, joka jo alkoi tottua minuun. Sitten johtui mieleeni\nkili parka, jonka olin sulkenut huvilaan, ja l\u00e4hdin hakemaan sit\u00e4.\nSiell\u00e4 se oli entisess\u00e4 paikassaan mihin se olisi aitauksen sis\u00e4st\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4ssytk\u00e4\u00e4n? -- mutta n\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4n el\u00e4in parka oli jo n\u00e4\u00e4ntym\u00e4isill\u00e4\u00e4n,\nsiell\u00e4 kun ei en\u00e4\u00e4 ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 sille. Kiireimmiten karsin\nlehti\u00e4 ja oksia puista ja pensaista ja heitin sen eteen. N\u00e4hty\u00e4ni sen\nsaaneen jo tarpeekseen kytkin sen j\u00e4lleen nuoraan ja l\u00e4hdin\ntaluttamaan kotiin, mutta tuskin olisin nuoraa tarvinnutkaan, sill\u00e4\nn\u00e4lk\u00e4 oli sen tehnyt aivan kesyksi: mielell\u00e4\u00e4n se astua keputteli\nper\u00e4ss\u00e4. Jonkin ajan kuluttua se kiintyi ruokkijaansa ja vaalijaansa\nniin lujasti, ett\u00e4 siit\u00e4 tuli minulle asuintoveri, joka ei koskaan\nl\u00e4htenyt luotani.\nSyyssadekausi oli v\u00e4hitellen taas alkanut. Tuli syyskuun 30.,\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4oloni vuosip\u00e4iv\u00e4. Olin siis asunut saaressani kaksi vuotta, ja\nyht\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4n minulla oli nyt poisp\u00e4\u00e4semisen toiveita kuin ensimm\u00e4isen\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4. Toisen vuosip\u00e4iv\u00e4n vietin juhlallisesti niinkuin\nedellisenkin, n\u00f6yr\u00e4n\u00e4 ja kiitollisena. Hartaasti kiitin Jumalaa, joka\noli tahtonut selvitt\u00e4\u00e4 minulle, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 yksin\u00e4isyydess\u00e4ni kukaties\nolen onnellisempikin kuin ihmisten seurassa keskell\u00e4 maailman turhia\nhuvituksia ja riemuja. Kaiken mik\u00e4 minulta puuttuu yksin\u00e4isyydess\u00e4ni\n-- n\u00e4in mietin silloin -- kaiken ihmisseuran h\u00e4n on t\u00e4ydellisesti\nkorvannut omalla l\u00e4sn\u00e4olollaan ja vuodattamalla armoansa minun\nsieluuni. H\u00e4n on minua hoivannut, lohduttanut ja rohkaissut luottamaan\njohtoonsa t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja iankaikkiseen rakkauteensa, joka jatkuu haudan\ntoisella puolellakin. Uuden suunnan saivat minussa nyt sek\u00e4 huolet\nett\u00e4 riemut; toisaanne kuin ennen t\u00e4ht\u00e4siv\u00e4t nyt pyrint\u00f6ni ja\ntoiveeni.\nEnnen -- kesken mets\u00e4styst\u00e4, kesken k\u00e4velyretki\u00e4, kesken t\u00f6it\u00e4ni --\noli minut usein vallannut \u00e4killinen sielunahdistus. Syd\u00e4n oli pakahtua\nrinnassani katsellessani metsi\u00e4 ja vuoria, jotka pitiv\u00e4t minua t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nvankinaan.\nToisin oli nyt. Luin joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 Jumalan sanaa ja sain siit\u00e4 yh\u00e4 uutta\nlohdutusta. Kerran aamulla avattuani Raamatun sattui seuraava kohta\nsilmiini: \"En koskaan, en koskaan min\u00e4 sinua j\u00e4t\u00e4 enk\u00e4 hylk\u00e4\u00e4.\" Nuo\nsanat tarkoittivat ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 juuri minua, minua, joka vastik\u00e4\u00e4n olin\nvalittanut tilaani pit\u00e4en itse\u00e4ni sek\u00e4 Jumalan ett\u00e4 ihmisten\nhylk\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4n\u00e4 raukkana. \"No niin\", ajattelin, \"koska Jumala ei minua\nhylk\u00e4\u00e4, niin mik\u00e4p\u00e4 minulla h\u00e4t\u00e4n\u00e4, vaikka ihmiset olisivat minut\nhylj\u00e4nneetkin? Ja toiselta puolen: jos voittaisin koko maailman ja\nmenett\u00e4isin Jumalan rakkauden ja siunauksen, kuinka sanomattoman\nonneton olisinkaan.\"\nT\u00e4llaisessa mielentilassa aloitin kolmannen vuoteni t\u00e4ss\u00e4 saaressa.\nEn tahdo v\u00e4sytt\u00e4\u00e4 lukijaa tekem\u00e4ll\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle toisen vuoden t\u00f6ist\u00e4 niin\ntarkkaa selkoa kuin ensimm\u00e4isen. Mainittakoon kuitenkin ohimennen,\netten milloinkaan ollut ty\u00f6tt\u00f6m\u00e4n\u00e4. P\u00e4iv\u00e4ni olin jakanut tarkoin eri\nt\u00f6iden suorittamiseen. Raamattua luin joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 kolme kertaa;\nmets\u00e4stykseen meni s\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6llisesti kolme tuntia, milloin sade ei\nest\u00e4nyt l\u00e4htem\u00e4st\u00e4 ulos; mets\u00e4nriistan nylkemiseen, puhdistamiseen,\ns\u00e4il\u00f6\u00f6npanoon ja ruoaksi laittamiseen meni useita tunteja p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nPuolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikana en voinut menn\u00e4 ulos lainkaan, koska aurinko\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 paistaa silloin suoraan p\u00e4\u00e4lakeen. Iltap\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi ei niin muodoin\nj\u00e4\u00e4nyt kuin nelj\u00e4 tuntia ty\u00f6aikaa.\nT\u00f6it\u00e4ni hidastutti usein suuresti sek\u00e4 tarpeellisten ty\u00f6kalujen ett\u00e4\ntarpeellisen taidonkin puute. Niinp\u00e4 minulta meni esimerkiksi\nkokonaista kaksikolmatta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 valmistellessani lautaa hyllyksi\nluolaani. Kaksi puusepp\u00e4\u00e4 olisi kunnollisin ty\u00f6v\u00e4linein saanut\npuolessa p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4 kuusikin sellaista lautaa samasta puusta! Mutta n\u00e4in\nse minulta k\u00e4vi. Ensiksi minun t\u00e4ytyi kaataa varsin iso puu, sill\u00e4\nhyllyst\u00e4 piti tulla aika leve\u00e4. Siihen meni kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Oksain\nkarsiminen vei minulta kaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Tavatonta ty\u00f6t\u00e4 ja vaivaa kysyi\nrungon hakkaaminen kummastakin p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 niin lyhyeksi, ett\u00e4 jaksoin sit\u00e4\nliikutella. Ja sitten alkoi veist\u00e4minen puolelta ja toiselta, kunnes\nvihdoin olin saanut noin kolme tuumaa paksun laudan.\nNiin meni marraskuu. Joulukuussa rupesin odottamaan ohra- ja\nriisisatoa. Peltoni ei ollut suuri, sill\u00e4 kuten jo olen maininnut, ei\nkylv\u00f6\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ollut kuin puoli pecki\u00e4. Kauniisti laiho kyll\u00e4 kasvoi,\nmutta suureksi surukseni huomasin, ett\u00e4 suuri joukko vihollisia uhkasi\ntehd\u00e4 lopun koko viljasta. Vuohet ja nuo j\u00e4niksen kaltaiset el\u00e4imet\nolivat n\u00e4et y\u00f6t\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 laihon kimpussa. Ei auttanut muu kuin\nkiireimm\u00e4n kaupalla rakentaa aita ymp\u00e4rille. P\u00e4iv\u00e4n sit\u00e4 rakentelin\nv\u00e4liin aina ammuskellen k\u00e4rkk\u00e4it\u00e4 kuokkavieraita. Y\u00f6ksi sidoin koirani\npellon laitaan, ja siin\u00e4 se haukunnallaan pid\u00e4tti viholliset loitolla.\nKolmen viikon kuluttua oli vihdoin luja aita valmiina pellon\nymp\u00e4rill\u00e4.\nMutta tuskin oli yksi vaara v\u00e4ltetty, niin jo ilmestyi toinen.\nNelijalkaiset eiv\u00e4t en\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sseet viljaa h\u00e4vitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta kun t\u00e4hk\u00e4\nrupesi jyv\u00e4\u00e4 tekem\u00e4\u00e4n, alkoivat taivaan linnutkin pyrki\u00e4 osalle.\nKerran n\u00e4et ulkona k\u00e4yskennelless\u00e4ni huomasin pellon ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 suuret\nparvet kaikenlaisia lintuja. Min\u00e4 laukaisin pyssyni niit\u00e4 kohti, ja\nsilloin pyr\u00e4hti kokonainen pilvi lintuja itse pellosta ilmaan.\nSiit\u00e4 olin hyvin pahoillani: muutamassa p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4h\u00e4n nuo tekisiv\u00e4t\nlopun koko vainiosta. Ja jos viljanviljelyksen t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 aina n\u00e4in\nk\u00e4visi, niin n\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n min\u00e4 lopulta saisin n\u00e4hd\u00e4. P\u00e4\u00e4tin suojella\npeltoani viimeiseen asti, vaikka minun t\u00e4ytyisi vartioida sit\u00e4 y\u00f6t\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Menin ensin katsomaan, mink\u00e4 verran vahinkoa linnut jo olivat\nenn\u00e4tt\u00e4neet saada aikaan. Paljon sielt\u00e4 jo oli sy\u00f6ty, mutta sen verran\noli viel\u00e4 j\u00e4ljell\u00e4, ett\u00e4 jos loput saisin s\u00e4ilytetyksi, niin voisin\nviel\u00e4 toivoa runsaanlaista satoa.\nAidan vieress\u00e4 latasin pyssyni uudestaan ja sielt\u00e4 huomasin, kuinka\npellon ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 puut olivat t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 noita siivekk\u00e4it\u00e4 varkaita, jotka\nn\u00e4kyiv\u00e4t odottelevan vain minun siirtymist\u00e4ni loitommaksi. Olin\nl\u00e4htevin\u00e4ni pois ja tuskin olin kadonnut niiden n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4, kun ne jo\nalkoivat yksitellen laskeutua viljapeltoon. Ajatellessani nyt, ett\u00e4\njokainen jyv\u00e4, mink\u00e4 ne minulta ry\u00f6st\u00e4v\u00e4t, tekisi minut\ntulevaisuudessa kokonaista pecki\u00e4 k\u00f6yhemm\u00e4ksi, en malttanut odottaa,\nkunnes suurempi lauma olisi laskeutunut alas, vaan k\u00e4\u00e4nnyin takaisin\nja laukaisin pyssyni, jolloin kolme lintua putosi maahan. Muuta en\ntoivonutkaan. Ja nyt tein niinkuin Englannissa tehd\u00e4\u00e4n ihmisvarkaille:\nvedin ne hirteen pelotukseksi muille. Vaikutus oli kerrassaan valtava:\nen\u00e4\u00e4 ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n pahantekij\u00e4 uskaltanut laskeutua viljapeltoon, ja\npian ne l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t tiehens\u00e4 koko t\u00e4st\u00e4 osasta saarta. En sen koommin\nn\u00e4hnyt ainoatakaan lintua l\u00e4hitienoilla, niin kauan kuin pel\u00e4tit\nroikkuivat puussa. Siit\u00e4 olin tietysti mieliss\u00e4ni ja niinp\u00e4 joulukuun\nlopulla leikkasin viljani.\nSadon korjaamisessa minulla oli paljon vaivaa, koska minulla ei ollut\nsirppi\u00e4 eik\u00e4 viikatetta. Tekaisin sent\u00e4hden jonkinlaisen aseen\nlyhyest\u00e4 miekasta, jollaisia olin laivasta tuonut maihin. Sill\u00e4 sitten\nniitin viljan omalla tavallani: katkoin pelk\u00e4t t\u00e4hk\u00e4t korsien p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\nja ker\u00e4sin ne suureen vasuun. K\u00e4siss\u00e4ni hieroin sitten jyv\u00e4t t\u00e4hkist\u00e4\nirti, ja kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 ty\u00f6 oli suoritettu, huomasin saaneeni puolesta\npeckist\u00e4 siemeni\u00e4 l\u00e4hes kaksi bushelia [Busheli = 3,3 litraa.] ohria\nja puolenkolmatta bushelia riisi\u00e4, arviolta nimitt\u00e4in, sill\u00e4 eih\u00e4n\nminulla varsinaisia mittoja ollut. [Busheli = 3,3 litraa.]\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 rohkaisi mielt\u00e4ni taas melkoisesti, sill\u00e4 nyth\u00e4n saatoin toivoa,\nett\u00e4 Jumalan avulla saisin sy\u00f6d\u00e4 leip\u00e4\u00e4 omasta viljastani. Mutta\nymm\u00e4lle jouduin j\u00e4lleen: miten erottaisin jyv\u00e4t ruumenista, mitenk\u00e4\nsaisin jyv\u00e4t jauhoiksi, miten paistaisin jauhoista leip\u00e4\u00e4? P\u00e4\u00e4tin\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 kaiken viljani siemeniksi ensi kylv\u00f6kautena ja sitten uutta\nsatoa odotellessani koettaa kaikin voimin keksi\u00e4 keinoja, mill\u00e4 saisin\njyv\u00e4t leiviksi.\nNyt voin sanan t\u00e4ydess\u00e4 merkityksess\u00e4 sanoa tekev\u00e4ni ty\u00f6t\u00e4 leip\u00e4ni\nedest\u00e4. Tokkopa kukaan oikein t\u00e4ydell\u00e4 todella on ottanut\nharkitakseen, miten senkin seitsem\u00e4n ty\u00f6t\u00e4 ja puuhaa on kysytty, ennen\nkuin leip\u00e4 valmiina p\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4n tuodaan? Mit\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n min\u00e4 asiaa mietin,\nsit\u00e4 monimutkaisemmalta se minusta tuntui.\nMuitten t\u00f6itten ohella koetin aikani kuluksi opettaa papukaijaani\npuhumaan. Pitkien ponnistusten per\u00e4st\u00e4 minun onnistuikin saada se\nlausumaan oma nimens\u00e4 \"Poli\", ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli ensimm\u00e4inen sana mink\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nsaaressa kuulin toisen olennon lausuvan. T\u00e4m\u00e4 ty\u00f6 oli kumminkin vain\njonkinlaista puhdety\u00f6t\u00e4. Varsinaisena ty\u00f6n\u00e4ni oli siihen aikaan saada\nlaitetuksi itselleni saviastioita, joita minulla ei ollut ensink\u00e4\u00e4n.\nPulmana oli vain, mist\u00e4 saisin sopivaa savea. Siit\u00e4 olin varma, ett\u00e4\nsaisin ne p\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa kuivatuksi.\nYhdeks\u00e4s luku\nSaviastioita. -- Huhmar ja seula. -- Vihdoinkin omaa leip\u00e4\u00e4. --\nKanoottia tekem\u00e4ss\u00e4. -- Hukkaan mennyt vaiva. -- Tyytyv\u00e4isyytt\u00e4. --\nR\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4lin\u00e4.\nJa niin sit\u00e4 nyt ryhdyttiin savenvalajan ammattiin, mutta lukija ei\nvoisi muuta kuin s\u00e4\u00e4li\u00e4 ja nauraa minua, jos alkaisin kertoa kaikista\nvastoink\u00e4ymisist\u00e4ni, jos k\u00e4visin kuvailemaan mit\u00e4 kaikkea k\u00f6mpel\u00f6it\u00e4,\nhassunkurisia, muodottomia tekeleit\u00e4 k\u00e4sist\u00e4ni valmistuikaan! Mik\u00e4\nromahti kokoon, mik\u00e4 lohkesi, savi kun ei ollut tarpeeksi lujaa eik\u00e4\njaksanut kest\u00e4\u00e4 omaa painoansa, mik\u00e4 haljeta paukahti, kun oli ennen\naikojaan joutunut liian kovaan helteeseen, mik\u00e4 taas hajosi palasiksi,\nkun vain v\u00e4h\u00e4nkin siihen k\u00e4vi k\u00e4siksi. Pari kuukautta tein t\u00e4t\u00e4\nankaraa ty\u00f6t\u00e4 hiki hatussa enk\u00e4 sittenk\u00e4\u00e4n saanut valmiiksi kuin kaksi\nsuurta ja rumaa saviastiaa. Leileiksi tai ruukuiksi niit\u00e4 ei juuri\nvoinut sanoa.\nSaatuani ne sitten kuiviksi auringonpaisteessa kannoin ne varovasti\nluolaani ja pistin varta vasten tekemieni vasujen sis\u00e4\u00e4n, t\u00e4ytt\u00e4en\nv\u00e4lit oljilla. N\u00e4iss\u00e4 astioissa aioin t\u00e4st\u00e4 puolin s\u00e4ilytt\u00e4\u00e4 jyvi\u00e4 ja\nehk\u00e4 jauhojakin.\nParemmin minulta onnistui pienempien saviastioiden tekeminen, ja\nniinp\u00e4 minulla jonkin ajan kuluttua olikin koko joukko lautasia,\nvateja, pieni\u00e4 patoja ynn\u00e4 muita taloudessa tarvittavia kapineita.\nMutta yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ei minulla ollut vedenpit\u00e4vi\u00e4 ja tulenkest\u00e4vi\u00e4\nastioita. Kerran sattui, ett\u00e4 tulin paistaneeksi lihaa suurenlaisella\nroviolla. Tulta sammutellessani l\u00f6ytyi tuhasta s\u00e4rkyneen saviastian\npalanen, joka oli palanut punaiseksi kuin tiili ja kovaksi kuin kivi.\nEik\u00f6h\u00e4n, arvelin silloin, eik\u00f6h\u00e4n voisi koko astiaakin polttaa samalla\ntavalla?\nEih\u00e4n minulla ollut oikeata savenvalajan uunia enk\u00e4 osannut saada\nastioihin lyijykiiltoakaan pintaan, vaikka lyijy\u00e4 kyll\u00e4 oli, mutta en\nt\u00e4st\u00e4 sen enemp\u00e4\u00e4 v\u00e4litt\u00e4nyt. Asetin kolme suurta vatia ja pari kolme\nsavipataa p\u00e4\u00e4llekk\u00e4in ja laitoin niiden ymp\u00e4rille joka puolelle vahvan\nvalkean. Sivulta ja p\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 lis\u00e4ilin yh\u00e4 polttoainetta, kunnes astiat\nhehkuivat tulipunaisina. Annoin niiden sitten olla viisi, kuusi tuntia\nyht\u00e4 mittaa kovassa kuumuudessa, kunnes huomasin yhden niist\u00e4 rupeavan\nsulamaan: saveen yhtynyt hiekka oli n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4stikin tulen vaikutuksesta\nalkanut muodostua lasiksi.\nSilloin rupesin v\u00e4hent\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n valkeata, niin ett\u00e4 astiat lakkasivat\nhehkumasta. Valvoin siin\u00e4 sitten koko y\u00f6n, jottei tuli p\u00e4\u00e4sisi\nsammumaan liian \u00e4killisesti, ja niinp\u00e4 minulla aamun tullen oli kolme\nvarsin hyv\u00e4\u00e4 -- en sano kaunista vatia ja kaksi pataa, niin kovaa ja\nlujaa, etten parempia kaivannut. Toisen pinnalle oli sulaneesta\nhiekasta muodostunut kirkas lasituskin.\nNyt ei minulla en\u00e4\u00e4 ollut puutetta saviastioista, vaikka t\u00e4ytyykin\ntunnustaa, ett\u00e4 niiden ulkomuoto oli hieman ep\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4inen kuin lasten\nsavikakkujen.\nEi varmaankaan ole kukaan halvoista esineist\u00e4 niin riemuinnut kuin\nmin\u00e4, jolla nyt oli tulenkest\u00e4vi\u00e4 savipatoja. Tuskin maltoin odottaa\nniiden j\u00e4\u00e4htymist\u00e4. Heti panin tulelle yhden, t\u00e4ytin vedell\u00e4 ja keitin\nvuohenlihasta voimakasta lient\u00e4. Ei minulla tosin ollut jauhoja eik\u00e4\nmuutakaan suurusta liemeen, mutta mainiota siit\u00e4 silti tuli.\nNyt oli saatava huhmar, miss\u00e4 survoa jyvi\u00e4 jauhoiksi. Kauan aikaa\nhaeskelin kive\u00e4, jonka voisin kovertaa huhmareksi, mutta sellaista ei\nollut saatavissa, kivilajit kun t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ovat haurasta lajia. P\u00e4\u00e4tin\nvihdoin laittaa puisen huhmaren. Siihen sovelias puu l\u00f6ytyikin paljon\nhelpommin. Hakattuani siit\u00e4 niin suuren rungon kuin jaksoin liikutella\nveistin sen ensin piilulla ja kirveell\u00e4 py\u00f6re\u00e4ksi ja polttamalla\nkoversin sen sitten ontoksi, siihen tapaan kuin Brasilian intiaanit\nkanoottinsa. Senj\u00e4lkeen tein rautatammesta petkelen ja panin n\u00e4m\u00e4\nesineet talteen ensi elonkorjuuksi.\nMutta monia muita esineit\u00e4 oli minun viel\u00e4 saatava: ei ollut seulaa,\nmill\u00e4 olisin puhdistanut jauhot kuorista ja leseist\u00e4. Kauan aikaa\ntuumailtuani muistin vihdoin, ett\u00e4 olihan minulla laivalta\nsaamieni tavarain joukossa muutamia merimiesten karttuuni- ja\nmusliinikaulaliinoja. Niist\u00e4 tein seulan, joka varsin hyvin sopi\ntarkoitukseensa.\nJa sitten leiv\u00e4n paistaminen, kun kaikki muut valmistukset oli\nsuoritettu! Eih\u00e4n minulla ollut hiivaa, ja mahdotonta minun oli sit\u00e4\nmist\u00e4\u00e4n saadakaan. Ent\u00e4s leivinuuni? Mutta keinotpa siihenkin\nkeksittiin. Laitoin ensin muutamia mataloita, suuria vateja, pari\njalkaa l\u00e4pimitaltaan ja noin yhdeks\u00e4n tuumaa syvi\u00e4, ja poltin ne yht\u00e4\nkoviksi kuin entisetkin saviastiat. Poltin sitten tiili\u00e4, vaikka\nniist\u00e4 ei tullut l\u00e4hesk\u00e4\u00e4n nelipuut olivat palaneet, levitin hiilloksen\ntasaisesti yli koko arinan, kunnes se oli kuumennut joka paikasta.\nLakaisin sitten kuuman tuhkan pois, laskin leiv\u00e4t arinalle, peitin ne\nmainituilla suurilla savivadeilla ja ty\u00f6nsin vihdoin kuumaa tuhkaa\njoka puolelta niiden ymp\u00e4rille. N\u00e4in minun ohrakyrs\u00e4ni paistuivat kuinskulmaisia, ja rakensin arinan. Sytytin\nvahvan valkean siihen, ja kun\nhyv\u00e4nkin leipurin uunissa, ja ajan kuluessa minusta tulikin aika\nmestari paistamaan piirakoita ja laittamaan vanukkaita.\n\u00c4lk\u00f6\u00f6n kukaan h\u00e4mm\u00e4styk\u00f6, jos sanon, ett\u00e4 minulta n\u00e4ihin puuhiin kului\nmelkein koko kolmas vuosi, sill\u00e4 olihan minulla samaan aikaan t\u00e4ysi\nty\u00f6 elonkorjuussa ja muissakin puuhissa.\nKun sato t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa oli niin runsas, ett\u00e4 minulla nyt oli l\u00e4hes\nkaksikymment\u00e4 bushelia ohria ja ainakin saman verran riisi\u00e4,\nharkitsin, miten paljon vuodessa tarvitsisin leiv\u00e4kseni, ja\nriitt\u00e4isik\u00f6, jos kylv\u00e4isin vain kerran vuodessa. Laskuni osoittivat,\nett\u00e4 n\u00e4m\u00e4 nelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4 bushelia riitt\u00e4isiv\u00e4t minulle mainiosti\nvuodeksi, mink\u00e4 vuoksi p\u00e4\u00e4tin t\u00e4st\u00e4 puolin kylv\u00e4\u00e4 saman m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n kuin\nviimeksikin.\nSanomattakin lukija arvaa, ett\u00e4 mieleeni usein tuli kaukainen maa,\njonka olin n\u00e4hnyt saaren toiselta rannalta. Kunpa sittenkin -- niin\nmin\u00e4 v\u00e4list\u00e4 mietiskelin -- kunpa sittenkin olisin siell\u00e4! Se on\nvarmaankin mannermaata. Sielt\u00e4 ehk\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sisin kulkemaan yh\u00e4 kauemmas ja\nsiten kukaties vihdoin jollain keinoin joutuisin pois t\u00e4st\u00e4\nvankeudesta.\nMieleeni ei silloin juolahtanutkaan, mit\u00e4 kaikkia vaaroja siell\u00e4 olisi\nollut edess\u00e4ni. Siell\u00e4h\u00e4n olisin helposti saattanut joutua villien\nk\u00e4siin, jotka -- kuten minulla oli t\u00e4ysi syy uskoa -- ovat julmemmat\nAfrikan leijonia ja tiikereit\u00e4. Jos heid\u00e4n k\u00e4siins\u00e4 olisin joutunut,\nhe olisivat varmaan tappaneet ja sy\u00f6neet minut. My\u00f6hemmin n\u00e4it\u00e4\nep\u00e4ilyj\u00e4 minussa kyll\u00e4 her\u00e4si, mutta silloin aivan ik\u00e4v\u00f6im\u00e4ll\u00e4 ik\u00e4v\u00f6in\ntuolle kaukaiselle rannalle.\nKuinka kaipasinkaan nyt Xury poikaani ja silloista purtta\nlampaanlapapurjeineen, sit\u00e4, jolla olimme niin pitk\u00e4t matkat\npurjehtineet it\u00e4isen Afrikan rantavesi\u00e4! L\u00e4hdin katsomaan venett\u00e4,\njolla haaksirikkoon jouduttuamme olimme l\u00e4hteneet laivasta ja joka,\nkuten olen kertonut, sittemmin oli ajautunut saaren rantaan. Aallot\nolivat paiskanneet sen korkealle maihin alassuin. Jos halusin saada\nsen k\u00e4ytt\u00f6kuntoon, olisi minun ensinn\u00e4kin pit\u00e4nyt saada k\u00e4\u00e4nnetyksi\ntuo raskas vene, korjata se ja ty\u00f6nt\u00e4\u00e4 sitten vesille. Ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4\nhuomasin kuitenkin moiset yritykset aivan mahdottomiksi, mutta halu\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 tuntemattomaan seutuun kiihtyi minussa kiihtymist\u00e4\u00e4n.\nAloin v\u00e4hitellen tuumia, enk\u00f6 omin k\u00e4sinkin kykenisi rakentamaan\nkanoottia, jollaisia sen puolen alkuasukkaat tekev\u00e4t yhdest\u00e4 puusta.\nTuo ei ollut mielest\u00e4ni ainoastaan mahdollista, vaan tuntuipa\nhelpoltakin saada aikaan: olihan minulla muka parempiakin apuneuvoja\nkuin alkukantaisilla neekereill\u00e4 tai intiaaneilla. En vain tullut\najatelleeksi, mit\u00e4 kaikkea minulta puuttui ja mit\u00e4 heill\u00e4 oli. Vene\nolisi kenties helposti tehty, mutta mahdotontahan minun olisi saada se\nyksin\u00e4ni vesille!\nOlisi luullut minun venett\u00e4 tehdess\u00e4ni yht\u00e4mittaa ajatelleen juuri\nt\u00e4t\u00e4 seikkaa, mutta mieleni paloi niin kiihke\u00e4sti merelle, etten tuota\nep\u00e4kohtaa tullut kertaakaan tarkoin punninneeksi. Hurjalla innolla\nryhdyin ty\u00f6h\u00f6n varmana siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kun vene on kerran valmis, niin\nkyll\u00e4 sen aina saa jollain keinoin vesillekin.\nKaadoin mets\u00e4st\u00e4 uljaan setrin miettien mieless\u00e4ni: mahtoikohan\nSalomolla olla yht\u00e4\u00e4n n\u00e4in uhkeata puuta h\u00e4nen rakentaessaan\nJerusalemin temppeli\u00e4? Se oli viisi jalkaa ja kymmenen tuumaa\nl\u00e4pimitaltaan tyvest\u00e4 ja kahdenkolmatta jalan korkeudessa viel\u00e4 nelj\u00e4\njalkaa ja yksitoista tuumaa. Siit\u00e4 kohden se alkoi hoiketa ja muodosti\ntuuhean latvan. [Tyvi = 175 cm, latva = 150 cm, pituus = 6,60 m.]\nSanomattoman paljon ty\u00f6t\u00e4 meni minulta j\u00e4ttil\u00e4ispuun kaatamiseen.\nKaksikymment\u00e4 pitk\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 sain hakata nalkutella sen juurella, ennen\nkuin se vihdoin kaatui, ja kaksi viikkoa meni sen j\u00e4lkeen latvan\nhakkaamiseen ja oksain karsimiseen. Ja sitten kului kokonainen\nkuukausi ennen kuin sain sen veistetyksi edes hiukan veneen\nmuotoiseksi, jotta se pysyisi veden pinnalla pystyss\u00e4. Ryhdyin vihdoin\nkovertamaan sisusta. Kun siin\u00e4 en lainkaan k\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt tulta apunani,\nvaan suoritin koko ty\u00f6n kirveell\u00e4, taltalla ja kurikalla, niin se vei\nminulta kokonaista kolme kuukautta.\nJa nyt minulla viimeinkin oli valmiina vene, joka olisi kantanut\nkuusikolmatta henke\u00e4. Se riitti siis vallan hyvin minulle ja kaikille\ntavaroilleni.\nKovin oli mieleni hyv\u00e4 katsellessani kanoottiani. Se oli suurin\nyhdest\u00e4 puusta tehty alus, mit\u00e4 milloinkaan olin n\u00e4hnyt. Oli se jo\ntoisenkin k\u00e4denk\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00e4hdyksen minulta kysynyt, totta tosiaankin, ja jos\nsen nyt t\u00e4ll\u00e4 rupeamalla olisin saanut veteen, niin olisin ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4\nl\u00e4htenyt nurjimmalle matkalle, mit\u00e4 mielet\u00f6n milloinkaan on tehnyt.\nMutta siin\u00e4p\u00e4 suurin pula olikin: saada vene veteen. Se ei tosin ollut\nkuin sadan yardin p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 rannasta, mutta pahin vastus oli siin\u00e4, ett\u00e4\njokeen p\u00e4in oli t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 yl\u00e4m\u00e4ki. P\u00e4\u00e4tin ensi ty\u00f6kseni kaivaa maata sen\nalta pois, niin ett\u00e4 saisin sille viett\u00e4v\u00e4n uoman. T\u00e4m\u00e4 kysyi taas\nsuunnatonta ty\u00f6t\u00e4 ja vaivaa, mutta mit\u00e4 v\u00e4litt\u00e4\u00e4 vaivoista se, jolle\nvapaaksi p\u00e4\u00e4seminen kangastaa toivona? Vihdoin t\u00e4m\u00e4kin ty\u00f6 tuli\nvalmiiksi, mutta nyt olin yht\u00e4 pitk\u00e4ll\u00e4 kuin alkaessanikin: kanoottia\nen jaksanut saada liikkeelle sen paremmin kuin toisella rannalla\nolevaa laivaa!\nEn hellitt\u00e4nyt viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. Ajattelin ett\u00e4 koska en kykene viem\u00e4\u00e4n\nvenett\u00e4 vesille, niin tuodaanpa vesi itse sit\u00e4 hakemaan. P\u00e4\u00e4tin kaivaa\njoesta kanavan veneelle asti. Tuumasta toimeen siekailematta. Jonkin\naikaa ponnisteltuani aloin kuitenkin l\u00e4hemmin harkita teht\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4ni:\nmaaper\u00e4 oli kovaa savikkoa ja joen \u00e4yr\u00e4s niin korkea, ett\u00e4 kanavan\nolisi pit\u00e4nyt olla yl\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n v\u00e4hint\u00e4\u00e4n kaksikymment\u00e4 jalkaa syv\u00e4;\nmuuta ty\u00f6voimaa minulla ei ollut k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4ni kuin kaksi k\u00e4tt\u00e4ni.\nKaikesta t\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ttelin, ett\u00e4 kanavan kaivamiseen minulta menisi\nv\u00e4hint\u00e4\u00e4n kymmenen, ehk\u00e4 kaksitoistakin vuotta! Loppujen lopuksi minun\nt\u00e4ytyi siis luopua koko yrityksest\u00e4.\nHukkaan olivat menneet nuo monen pitk\u00e4n kuukauden ty\u00f6t ja\nponnistukset! Voi, kuinka karvastelikaan syd\u00e4n parkaani silloin!\nHuomasin nyt liian my\u00f6h\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 mielet\u00f6nt\u00e4 on ryhty\u00e4 ty\u00f6h\u00f6n, ennen\nkuin on laskenut kustannukset ja tarkoin punninnut, kuinka pitk\u00e4lle\nomia voimia riitt\u00e4\u00e4.\nKesken n\u00e4it\u00e4 t\u00f6it\u00e4ni kului nelj\u00e4skin vuosi t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4olostani loppuun.\nVuosip\u00e4iv\u00e4n vietin n\u00f6yr\u00e4ss\u00e4 hartaudessa niin kuin edellisetkin.\nRaamatun lukemisen ja Jumalan armollisen avun kautta oli\nmaailmankatsomukseni kokonaan muuttunut entisest\u00e4\u00e4n. Toisin silmin\nkuin ennen katselin nyt kohtaloni vaiheita. Maailma oli minulle\nkaukainen, en en\u00e4\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n toivonut enk\u00e4 vaatinut silt\u00e4. Ajattelin\nmaailmaa niin kuin me ehk\u00e4 ajattelemme sit\u00e4 haudan toisella puolen:\nolin siell\u00e4 aikani el\u00e4nyt ja l\u00e4htenyt viimein pois. Teki mieleni sanoa\nkuin Abraham rikkaalle miehelle: \"Meid\u00e4n v\u00e4lillemme on juopa\navautunut.\"\nTyytyv\u00e4isen\u00e4 ja Herralle kiitollisena elelin saaressani. Puutetta en\nk\u00e4rsinyt, p\u00e4invastoin minulla oli ylt\u00e4kyllin kaikkea. T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 opin\nsenkin el\u00e4m\u00e4nviisauden, ett\u00e4 tavaralla on arvoa vain siin\u00e4 m\u00e4\u00e4rin kuin\nsit\u00e4 saattaa hy\u00f6dykseen k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4. Olen jo maininnut, ett\u00e4 minulla oli\nkolmekymment\u00e4kuusi puntaa kulta- ja hopearahoja. Arvotonta tavaraa\nkerrassaan! Kourallisen kolikoita olisin mielell\u00e4ni vaihtanut\npahanp\u00e4iv\u00e4iseen piippuun tai k\u00e4simyllyyn. Olisin antanut kaikki\nparista pivollisesta nauriin- tai porkkanansiemeni\u00e4, pussillisesta\nherneit\u00e4 tai papuja tai mustepullosta. Olisin voinut kasvattaa t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nviljaa laivanlastit t\u00e4yteen, mutta minulla ei ollut minne l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4;\nitse tarvitsin sit\u00e4 verraten v\u00e4h\u00e4n. Kilpikonnia oli saatavissa niin\npaljon kuin halusin, mutta yksi ainoakin riitti minulle pitk\u00e4ksi\naikaa. Mets\u00e4\u00e4 oli t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 niin runsaasti, ett\u00e4 olisin voinut rakentaa\nkokonaisen laivaston, ja viiniryp\u00e4leit\u00e4 niin viljalti, ett\u00e4 olisin\nniill\u00e4 voinut lastata koko tuon laivaston, mutta tuo ylenpalttisuus\noli nyt arvotonta!\nYksin\u00e4ist\u00e4h\u00e4n el\u00e4m\u00e4ni t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 tosin oli, mutta samalla se oli\narmoitettua el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4, ja hartaasti kiitin Herraa, joka ihmeellisell\u00e4\ntavalla oli minut pelastanut ja ihmeellisesti piti minusta huolta.\nAjan kuluessa alkoi yksi ja toinen laji laivalta saamiani tavaroita\nkulua loppuun. Ensiksi muste. Lis\u00e4ilin siihen tuon tuostakin vett\u00e4,\nkunnes se vihdoin k\u00e4vi niin vaaleaksi, ett\u00e4 tuskin en\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4tti n\u00e4kyv\u00e4\u00e4\nj\u00e4lke\u00e4 paperille.\nSitten loppuivat laivakorput, vaikka niit\u00e4 s\u00f6in s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4v\u00e4isesti.\nLeiv\u00e4tt\u00e4 olinkin l\u00e4hes vuoden p\u00e4iv\u00e4t, ennen kuin p\u00e4\u00e4sin ohrasta\npaistamaan leip\u00e4\u00e4.\nKulumaan rupesivat jo vaatteetkin. Kirjavia merimiespaitoja olin\ntuonut laivalta maihin kolme tusinaa, mutta niist\u00e4 ei en\u00e4\u00e4 ollut\nehj\u00e4n\u00e4 kuin muutama, sill\u00e4 enimm\u00e4kseen minulla oli vain pelkk\u00e4 paita\nyll\u00e4ni. Arkuissa oli muutamia merimiestakkejakin, mutta ne olivat\nliian paksuja t\u00e4ss\u00e4 helteess\u00e4. Luulisin ettei n\u00e4in kuumassa\nilmanalassa tarvitse vaatteita ensink\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta se on erehdys. Paidan\nja ihon v\u00e4linen ilma on sent\u00e4\u00e4n jonkin verran liikkeess\u00e4, niin ettei\nhelle tunnu aivan siet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4lt\u00e4.\nLakki tai hattu oli kuumalla ilmalla v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4t\u00f6n sekin. Milloin\nhatutta p\u00e4in liikuin p\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa, alkoi p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4ni tuntua heti\nkivistyst\u00e4.\nT\u00e4ytyi koettaa korjailla ja paikkailla vaatteita mink\u00e4 suinkin osasin,\nvaikka niiss\u00e4 ei valitettavasti silm\u00e4nruokaa koskaan ollut. Olin huono\nkirvesmies, mutta viel\u00e4 huonompi r\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4li. Sain kuitenkin ommelluksi\nmuutamia liivej\u00e4, mutta housuja oli vaikeampi tehd\u00e4.\nOlen jo ennen maininnut panneeni talteen jokaisen ampumani el\u00e4imen\nnahan. Muutamat olivat auringonpaisteessa kuivaneet liian koviksi ja\nkankeiksi, mutta oli sellaisiakin, joita voi k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4. Ensi ty\u00f6kseni\nlaitoin itselleni karvalakin, jossa oli karvat ulosp\u00e4in. T\u00e4m\u00e4 onnistui\nniin hyvin, ett\u00e4 my\u00f6hemmin tein itselleni puvun el\u00e4imenvuodista,\nnimitt\u00e4in takin ja lyhyet, avonaiset polvihousut, kaikissa karvat\nulosp\u00e4in. T\u00e4llaisessa puvussa voin sateillakin liikkua kastumatta.\nPitk\u00e4n ajan vei minulta sitten p\u00e4iv\u00e4nvarjon kyh\u00e4\u00e4minen. Olin n\u00e4hnyt\nsellaisia Brasiliassa, jossa ne ovat varsin tarpeellisia sik\u00e4l\u00e4isess\u00e4\nkovassa helteess\u00e4. Viel\u00e4 tarpeellisempi se oli minulle t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, sill\u00e4\nsijaitsihan saareni viel\u00e4 l\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajaa. V\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4t\u00f6n suoja\nse olisi minulle sek\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n polttavilta s\u00e4teilt\u00e4 ett\u00e4 rankkasateilta.\nKauan kesti ennen kuin syntyi mit\u00e4\u00e4n sentapaistakaan. Pari kolme\ntekelett\u00e4 meni aivan pilalle, ennen kuin viimein sain kokoon\np\u00e4iv\u00e4nvarjon tapaisen. Mutta oli ty\u00f6 ja tekeminen saada se\nkokoonpantavaksi, sill\u00e4 ty\u00f6l\u00e4st\u00e4h\u00e4n olisi ollut kuljettaa sit\u00e4\navoimena. Sekin onnistui viimein, ja sitten p\u00e4\u00e4llystin p\u00e4iv\u00e4nvarjon\nnahalla, karvat siin\u00e4kin ulosp\u00e4in.\nKymmenes luku\nPieni vene. -- Vaarallinen matka ulapalle. -- \"Robin Crusoe, miss\u00e4\nolet?\" -- Piippu. -- Vuohikarja. -- Voita ja juustoa. Majesteetti\naterioitsee.\nN\u00e4in elelin saarellani hiljaista, yksin\u00e4ist\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4ni, tyytyv\u00e4isen\u00e4 ja\nHerraan turvaten. Usein kyll\u00e4 tuntui tyhj\u00e4lt\u00e4, kun ei ollut kenen\nkanssa sanaa vaihtaa, mutta silloin aina kys\u00e4isin itselt\u00e4ni:\neiv\u00e4tk\u00f6h\u00e4n keskustelut oman itseni ja Jumalan kanssa korvaa minulle\nkaikkea ihmisseuran suomaa iloa?\nSeuraavat viisi vuotta kuluivat ilman sen suurempia tapauksia: sama\nasuinpaikka, samat ty\u00f6t ja toimet. Sit\u00e4paitsi minulla oli huomattava\nty\u00f6, johon k\u00e4ytin kaikki v\u00e4liajat: rakentelin j\u00e4lleen venett\u00e4.\nVahingosta viisastuneena ryhdyin t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa tekem\u00e4\u00e4n varsin pient\u00e4\nruuhta, jonka vihdoin, tosin suurella vaivalla, sain valmiiksi.\nKaivoin kuusi jalkaa leve\u00e4n ja nelj\u00e4 jalkaa syv\u00e4n ojan, jota my\u00f6ten\nty\u00f6nsin sen vesille.\nKaksi vuotta oli kulunut t\u00e4h\u00e4nkin ty\u00f6h\u00f6n, mutta suuri oli iloni, kun\nvene vihdoin kellui joen pinnalla, ja melomalla ja sauvomalla p\u00e4\u00e4sin\nliikkumaan jokea yl\u00f6s ja alas.\nEi ollut ajattelemistakaan l\u00e4hte\u00e4 n\u00e4in mit\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4ll\u00e4 aluksella tuohon\nkaukaiseen maahan, nelj\u00e4nkymmenen peninkulman pituiselle vaaralliselle\ntaipaleelle. Mutta koska minulla nyt kerran oli vene, niin p\u00e4\u00e4tin\nk\u00e4yd\u00e4 katselemassa saareni rantoja laajemmaltikin.\nPystytin purteeni ensinn\u00e4kin maston ja laitoin siihen sopivan purjeen\n-- kangastahan minulla oli sit\u00e4 varten yllin kyllin varastossa.\nKoeteltuani sitten venett\u00e4 ja huomattuani sen purjehtivan sangen hyvin\ntein sek\u00e4 per\u00e4\u00e4n ett\u00e4 kokkaan arkkuja s\u00e4ilytyspaikoiksi ev\u00e4ille ja\nampumavaroille. Veneen laitaan sijoitin laatikon pyssy\u00e4ni varten.\nP\u00e4iv\u00e4nvarjon panin per\u00e4\u00e4n suojaksi auringons\u00e4teilt\u00e4.\nN\u00e4in tein sitten pieni\u00e4 huviretki\u00e4 rantavesill\u00e4, alussa milloinkaan\nyritt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 kovin kauaksi joen suusta. Mutta v\u00e4hitellen her\u00e4si minussa\nhalu tehd\u00e4 kiertomatka koko kuningaskuntani ymp\u00e4ri. Eip\u00e4 aikaakaan,\nniin jo rupesin hankkiutumaan matkalle. Panin purteen kaksitoista\nohraleip\u00e4\u00e4, leilillisen paahdettua riisi\u00e4, pienen pullon rommia, puoli\nvuohta, ruutia ja luoteja sek\u00e4 makuuvaatteiksi kaksi paksua\nmerimiestakkia, toisen alustaksi, toisen peitteeksi.\nKuudentena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 marraskuuta, vankeuteni tai, jos niin haluatte,\nhallitusaikani kuudentena vuotena, l\u00e4hdin t\u00e4lle retkelle, joka kesti\nkauemmin kuin olin luullutkaan. Saari itse tosin ei ollut kovin suuri,\nmutta sen it\u00e4iseen p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n tultuani huomasin pitk\u00e4n jonon kallioita,\nosaksi veden p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, osaksi alla, pist\u00e4v\u00e4n pari meripeninkulmaa ulos\nrannasta. Kallioitten ulkopuolella oli viel\u00e4 puolen peninkulman\npituinen hietamatalikko. T\u00e4ytyi siis tehd\u00e4 pitk\u00e4 kierros matalikon\nulommaisen niemen ymp\u00e4ri.\nOlin jo k\u00e4\u00e4ntym\u00e4isill\u00e4ni takaisin, mutta laskin sent\u00e4\u00e4n ankkurin, otin\npyssyn ja nousin maihin t\u00e4hystelem\u00e4\u00e4n. Kiipesin korkean m\u00e4en huipulle,\njosta n\u00e4ki joka puolelle, ja huomasin kovan, melkein rajun merivirran\nk\u00e4yv\u00e4n it\u00e4\u00e4n kallioitten kohdalla. Jos olisin veneineni joutunut sen\nkohdalle, se olisi varmasti vienyt minut niin kauaksi ulapalle, ett\u00e4\npalaaminen olisi ollut mahdotonta, sill\u00e4 samanlainen merivirta k\u00e4vi\ntoisellakin puolen saarta, vaikka paljon kauempana. L\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4 rantaa\nkulki p\u00e4invastaiseen suuntaan toinen virta; minun tuli siis v\u00e4ltt\u00e4\u00e4\nensinmainittua p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4kseni rannanpuoleiseen.\nKoska kumminkin ankara it\u00e4kaakkoistuuli parhaillaan puhalsi vasten\nrantavirtaa muodostaen tuimia hyrskyj\u00e4 niemen kohdalla, olisi minun\nollut yht\u00e4 vaarallista l\u00e4hte\u00e4 ulapalle kuin purjehtia rantavesi\u00e4kin.\nMinun oli siis pakko pys\u00e4hty\u00e4 t\u00e4nne per\u00e4ti kahden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n ajaksi.\nKoitti kolmannen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n aamu. Tuuli oli y\u00f6ll\u00e4 lakannut, meri oli\ntyyni. Silloin l\u00e4hdin ulommaksi. Mutta t\u00e4ss\u00e4kin olen varoittava\nesimerkki kaikille kokemattomille ja huimap\u00e4isille purjehtijoille.\nTuskin olin p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt kallioiden uloimman niemen kohdalle -- veneen\npituus erotti minut kallioista -- kun \u00e4kki\u00e4 huomasin joutuneeni\nsyville vesille, pauhaavan virran valtaan. Veneeni kiiti niin kiivasta\nvauhtia, etten p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt virran laitaankaan. Yh\u00e4 kauemmas jouduin nyt\nrantavirrasta vasemmalle. Ei tuulenhenk\u00e4yst\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, jota olisin voinut\nhy\u00f6dykseni k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4; melasta ja airoista ei ollut v\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n apua. Olin\njo mennytt\u00e4 miest\u00e4 mielest\u00e4ni, sill\u00e4 arvasin, ett\u00e4 nuo kaksi\nmerivirtaa saaren kummallakin puolen ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 yhtyiv\u00e4t jonkin\npeninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja jos joudun sinne, olen auttamattomasti hukassa.\nIlmeinen tuho oli silmieni edess\u00e4: merest\u00e4 ei pelkoa, seh\u00e4n oli aivan\ntyyni, mutta n\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4n minun lopulta t\u00e4ytyisi kuolla. Olin tosin\nrannalta saanut niin suuren kilpikonnan, ett\u00e4 tuskin jaksoin sit\u00e4\nkantaa; vett\u00e4kin oli purressa t\u00e4ysi leilillinen, mutta mihin se\nriitt\u00e4isi valtamerell\u00e4, miss\u00e4 ei ole rantaa, ei saarta, vaan pelkk\u00e4\u00e4\naukeata ulappaa tuhannen ja taas tuhannen peninkulmaa!\nKuinka tuskallisen kaihon vallassa katselinkaan nyt taakse j\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4\nyksin\u00e4ist\u00e4 saartani! Nyt se oli mielest\u00e4ni ihanin paikka koko\nmaailmassa. Sinne, sinne paloi j\u00e4lleen mieleni. \"Voi sinua rakas, oma\nsaareni!\" huusin kurottaen k\u00e4si\u00e4ni sit\u00e4 kohti. \"En n\u00e4e sinua en\u00e4\u00e4\nmilloinkaan. Voi, minua poloista, minne joutunenkaan nyt!\"\nIhminen ei milloinkaan osaa oikein k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4 todellista tilaansa, ennen\nkuin h\u00e4nelle n\u00e4ytet\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 toisinkin voisi olla. H\u00e4n ei osaa antaa\nel\u00e4m\u00e4lleen oikeata arvoa, ennen kuin se uhataan ottaa h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 pois.\nVoineeko kukaan mieless\u00e4ns\u00e4 kuvitella tuskaa, joka minut valtasi\nn\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni joutuneeni jo parin peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n saarestani! Soudin\nitseni melkein n\u00e4\u00e4nnyksiin koettaessani pyrki\u00e4 pohjoista kohti, siis\nrannanpuoleisen merivirran tienoille. Puolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n ajoissa, kun\naurinko jo oli kulkenut meridiaanin yli, tunsin \u00e4kki\u00e4 kasvoillani\ntuulen lehahduksen etel\u00e4kaakosta. Siit\u00e4 tuli mieleni hyv\u00e4ksi,\nvarsinkin kun puolen tunnin kuluttua sangen navakka tuuli alkoi\npuhaltaa. Nostin maston ja vedin purjeen yl\u00f6s ohjaten venett\u00e4 niin\npaljon kuin mahdollista pohjoista kohti p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4kseni pois merivirrasta.\nPuoli peninkulmaa purjehdittuani n\u00e4kyi id\u00e4st\u00e4 tyrskyj\u00e4 kallioita\nvastaan. Siin\u00e4 kohden jakaantui merivirta kahtia: p\u00e4\u00e4virta kulki\nedelleen etel\u00e4mm\u00e4ksi, mutta osa k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi takaisin virraten kiivaasti\nluoteeseen.\nSain veneeni suunnatuksi viimeksimainittuun, ja suuri oli riemuni, kun\ntuulen yh\u00e4 yltyess\u00e4 purteni alkoi kulkea aika vauhtia suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4\nsaarta kohti, vaikka aivan p\u00e4invastaiselle puolen sit\u00e4 paikkaa, mist\u00e4\nolin l\u00e4htenyt.\nKello nelj\u00e4n maissa p\u00e4\u00e4sin vihdoin merivirran ulkopuolelle ja laskin\npian sen j\u00e4lkeen maihin.\nRannalle noustuani kiitin ensi ty\u00f6kseni Herraa pelastuksestani ja\nsamalla p\u00e4\u00e4tin, etten en\u00e4\u00e4 milloinkaan yritt\u00e4isi p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 veneell\u00e4ni\nsaaresta pois. Sy\u00f6ty\u00e4ni ev\u00e4it\u00e4ni vedin veneeni turvalliseen paikkaan\npuitten suojaan ja k\u00e4vin levolle, koska olin n\u00e4\u00e4ntynyt matkan\nvaivoista.\nAamulla en lainkaan tiennyt miten saisin veneeni takaisin kotirantaan.\nSamaa tiet\u00e4 en ruvennut yritt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4nk\u00e4\u00e4n, niin paljon olin eilen\noppinut. L\u00e4hdin k\u00e4velem\u00e4\u00e4n rantaa pitkin l\u00e4nteen p\u00e4in ja kuljettuani\nkolmen peninkulman verran saavuin virran suulle, joka v\u00e4hitellen\nkapenee maahan p\u00e4in pieneksi joeksi. Sen \u00e4yr\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 oli pieni poukama,\nik\u00e4\u00e4n kuin varta vasten telakaksi tehtyj\u00e4 sinne veinkin veneeni\nturvaan.\nSielt\u00e4 nousin kukkulalle katselemaan, mill\u00e4 tienoin saarta oikein\nolin, ja pian huomasin olevani l\u00e4hell\u00e4 seutuja, joissa ennenkin olin\nliikkunut vaeltaessani tutkimusmatkoilla. Hain veneest\u00e4 pyssyn ja\np\u00e4iv\u00e4nvarjon ja l\u00e4hdin kulkemaan kotiin p\u00e4in. Mieluinen t\u00e4m\u00e4\njalkamatka olikin eilisen tuskallisen seikkailun j\u00e4lkeen, ja illan\nsuussa saavuin huvilalleni, jossa kaikki oli hyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 kunnossa.\nMenin aitauksen sis\u00e4\u00e4n, laskeuduin levolle ja vaivuin pian sike\u00e4\u00e4n\nuneen. Mutta voiko kukaan kuvitella h\u00e4mm\u00e4styst\u00e4ni, kun \u00e4kki\u00e4 olin\nkuulevinani nime\u00e4ni mainittavan useita kertoja: \"Robin, Robin, Robin\nCrusoe? Robin Crusoe raukka! Miss\u00e4 olet, Robin Crusoe! Miss\u00e4 olet?\nMiss\u00e4 olet ollut?\"\nLuulin ensin n\u00e4kev\u00e4ni unta, mutta kun huudot yh\u00e4 jatkuivat, kavahdin\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4en pystyyn. Tuskin olin saanut silm\u00e4ni auki, kun huomasin Poll\npoikani, papukaijan, istua k\u00f6k\u00f6tt\u00e4v\u00e4n aidan harjalla. Nyt tiesin, ett\u00e4\nse oli minua puhutellut, sill\u00e4 juuri tuollaisella ruikuttavalla\ntavalla min\u00e4kin olin puhutellut sit\u00e4 ja opettanut sit\u00e4 puhumaan. Se\noli tottunut istumaan sormellani, painamaan p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 minun kasvojani\nvasten ja huutelemaan: \"Robin Crusoe raukka? Miss\u00e4 olet? Miss\u00e4 olet\nollut? Miten sin\u00e4 t\u00e4nne tulit?\" ja sen sellaista.\nHetken aikaa olin yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4 hiukan h\u00e4mm\u00e4stynyt siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Poll oli\nosannut tulla juuri t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 minua hakemaan. Toinnuttuani kutsuin\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4ni luokseni. Se lensi peukalolleni ja aloitti taas: \"Robin\nCrusoe parka? Miten t\u00e4nne tulit? Miss\u00e4 olet ollut?\"\nL\u00e4hdin sitten kotiin kantaen Pollia k\u00e4dell\u00e4ni.\nOlisi ollut hauskaa saada veneeni takaisin omalle rannalle, mutta\nit\u00e4puolitse en en\u00e4\u00e4 uskaltanut yritt\u00e4\u00e4 tuoda sit\u00e4 enk\u00e4 taas tiennyt,\nmillaista olisi ollut saaren toisella puolella: kenties siell\u00e4kin\nkulki kiivaita merivirtoja. J\u00e4tin sen \u00e4sken l\u00f6yt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4ni poukamaan,\nvaikka tuntuikin haikealta luopua niin monen kuukauden ty\u00f6n ja vaivan\ntuloksista.\nNiin sitten taas elelin l\u00e4hes kokonaisen vuoden hiljaista el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4ni.\nTurvasin Jumalaan ja olin onnellinen, mit\u00e4\u00e4n muuta en kaivannut kuin\nihmisseuraa.\nAikaa my\u00f6ten opin yh\u00e4 taitavammaksi kaikenlaisissa k\u00e4sit\u00f6iss\u00e4 ja\nmuissa n\u00e4pertelyiss\u00e4. Savenvalajan ammatissa edistyin koko lailla\nsiit\u00e4 l\u00e4htien kun keksin savenvalupy\u00f6r\u00e4n. Nyt astioista tuli siloisia\nja siroja. Mutta suurin oli iloni silloin, kun sain valmiiksi piipun.\nSavesta se tosin vain oli eik\u00e4 juuri kauniskaan, punaiseksi poltettu\nkuten muutkin saviastiat, mutta hauskaa sill\u00e4 oli vedell\u00e4 savuja.\nTupakkaa kasvoi saarella yllin kyllin.\nVasuja ja koreja ker\u00e4\u00e4ntyi minulle samoin niin runsaasti, ettei\ns\u00e4ilytysastioista milloinkaan ollut puutetta.\nRuutivarastoni hupenivat huolestuttavasti. Aloin jo vakavasti mietti\u00e4,\nmiten sitten el\u00e4isin, kun ruuti kerran loppuisi. Uuttahan en saisi\nmist\u00e4\u00e4n.\nKolmantena vuotena, niin kuin muistettaneen, olin saanut kiinni vuohen\nja aikonut kasvattaa siit\u00e4 itselleni v\u00e4hitellen kesyn vuohilauman.\nMutta se oli saanut j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 yksin ja kuoli vihdoin vanhuuttansa.\nOltuani saaressa yhdeks\u00e4ntoista vuotta ja huomattuani ruutivarastojeni\nv\u00e4hentyneen p\u00e4\u00e4tin j\u00e4lleen ruveta pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n vuohia el\u00e4vin\u00e4. Asettelin\nensin ansoja eri paikkoihin, mutta ne eiv\u00e4t olleet kyllin vankkoja,\nkoska minulla ei ollut metallilankaa. Koetin loukkuja ja hautoja,\nmutta hukkaan meniv\u00e4t nekin yritykset. Viritin viimein lujia\nlankapyydyksi\u00e4 ja kerran aamulla pyydyksille tultuani n\u00e4in yhdess\u00e4\nvanhan pukin ja toisessa kolme kili\u00e4, joista kaksi uuhta.\nPukki oli niin tavattoman vihainen, etten uskaltanut yritt\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n vied\u00e4\nsit\u00e4 kotiin. Siksip\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4stinkin sen menem\u00e4\u00e4n. Vuonat sen sijaan sain\nsuurella vaivalla telttaani.\nPitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan ne eiv\u00e4t v\u00e4litt\u00e4neet ruoasta lainkaan, mutta viimein ne\nrupesivat sy\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n, eik\u00e4 aikaakaan, niin ne jo tulivat aivan kesyiksi.\nMinulla oli siis hyvi\u00e4 toiveita oman vuohikarjan saamisesta.\nMutta jos halusin vuohikarjaa, t\u00e4ytyi v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4sti ryhty\u00e4\ntoimenpiteisiin, jotta vuoheni eiv\u00e4t p\u00e4\u00e4sisi mets\u00e4vuohien pariin,\nsill\u00e4 silloin ne villiintyisiv\u00e4t j\u00e4lleen ja karkaisivat tiehens\u00e4. Ei\nauttanut muu kuin ruveta rakentamaan aitausta, jossa karjallani olisi\nrunsaasti ruohoa ja vett\u00e4 ja jossa se olisi suojassa paahteelta.\nKahden k\u00e4den varaan tosin t\u00e4m\u00e4kin teht\u00e4v\u00e4 j\u00e4i, mutta rohkein mielin\nryhdyin ty\u00f6h\u00f6n. L\u00f6ysin sopivan laidunmaan, jossa oli pari, kolme\nl\u00e4hdett\u00e4 ja jonka toisessa laidassa oli tuuhea viidakko. Erotin siit\u00e4\naluksi sataviisikymment\u00e4 yardia pitk\u00e4n ja sata yardia leve\u00e4n alueen.\nJos t\u00e4m\u00e4 ajan mittaan k\u00e4visi ahtaaksi, ajattelin, niin voisinhan\nlaajentaa sit\u00e4.\nKolmen kuukauden kuluttua aitaus oli valmis. Sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin kilit olivat\naina olleet lieassa l\u00e4hell\u00e4ni ja siten tottuneet yh\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n minuun.\nTuon tuostakin vein niille ohran- tai riisinjyvi\u00e4, joita ne tottuivat\nsy\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4dest\u00e4. Kun saatuani aitauksen valmiiksi p\u00e4\u00e4stin ne\nvalloilleen, ne juoksivat aina j\u00e4ljess\u00e4ni m\u00e4\u00e4kien jyvi\u00e4.\nPuolentoista vuoden kuluttua minulla oli kymmenkunta vuohta; kolmen\nvuoden kuluttua oli tarhassani nelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4kolme, niiden lis\u00e4ksi,\njotka olin teurastanut. Ajan mittaan t\u00e4ytyi laittaa yh\u00e4 uusia\naitauksia, niin ett\u00e4 niit\u00e4 lopulta oli viisi.\nMutta ei siin\u00e4 kyllin, ettei p\u00f6yd\u00e4st\u00e4ni nyt milloinkaan puuttunut\nvuohenlihaa; nyt oli minulla runsaasti maitoakin. V\u00e4list\u00e4 sain sit\u00e4\nkaksikin gallonaa p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4 [gallona = 4,5 litraa]. Omituista miten\nluonto itse opettaa ihmist\u00e4 k\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n sen tarjoamia lahjoja. Min\u00e4,\njoka en ollut koskaan lyps\u00e4nyt lehm\u00e4\u00e4 ja pikku poikana vain jonkin\nverran n\u00e4hnyt, miten voita ja juustoa tehd\u00e4\u00e4n, lypsin nyt vuoheni,\nkirnusin voita ja valmistin juustoa! Monta turhaa yrityst\u00e4 sain ensin\ntehd\u00e4, mutta viimein onnistuin, varsinkin kun olin oppinut l\u00f6yt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\nsuolaa kallionkoloista merenrannalla, jossa auringon helle sit\u00e4 oli\nkuivattanut merivedest\u00e4.\nOlisipa tuikea stoalainen filosofikin myh\u00e4ht\u00e4nyt n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n minut\np\u00e4iv\u00e4llisp\u00f6yd\u00e4ss\u00e4ni, keskell\u00e4 perhett\u00e4ni. Siin\u00e4 istuin min\u00e4, ylh\u00e4inen\nmajesteetti, t\u00e4m\u00e4n saaren herra ja valtias, jonka k\u00e4siss\u00e4 oli\nalamaisteni onni ja el\u00e4m\u00e4. Ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4ni olivat kuninkaalliset\npalvelijani. Poll oli erityinen suosikkini, ja vain sill\u00e4 oli lupa\npuhella p\u00f6yd\u00e4ss\u00e4 majesteetin kanssa. Koirani, joka nyt jo alkoi k\u00e4yd\u00e4\nvanhaksi ja raihnaiseksi, istui oikealla puolellani, ja kaksi kissaa,\nyksi kummallakin p\u00f6yd\u00e4n laidalla, odotteli suosionosoituksia,\nnimitt\u00e4in makupaloja omasta k\u00e4dest\u00e4ni.\nYhdestoista luku\nMuotokuvani. -- Uusi vaihe. -- Ihmisen j\u00e4lki rannan hiekassa. --\nS\u00e4ik\u00e4hdys. -- Kaksoismuuri.\nTutkimusretki saaren ymp\u00e4ri vesitse oli j\u00e4\u00e4nyt sikseen, mutta yh\u00e4\npaloi mieleni tutustua perusteellisesti valtakuntaani, ja niinp\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4tin kerran l\u00e4hte\u00e4 rantoja my\u00f6ten kiert\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n saaren ymp\u00e4ri.\nMatkalle l\u00e4htiess\u00e4ni tulin ajatelleeksi: Mit\u00e4h\u00e4n ihmiset sanoisivat\nEnglannissa, jos n\u00e4kisiv\u00e4t \u00e4kki\u00e4 ihmisolennon t\u00e4llaisissa tamineissa?\nS\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4isiv\u00e4t varmaankin tai nauraisivat h\u00e4nelle vasten silmi\u00e4. En\nsaattanut olla myh\u00e4ht\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 itsek\u00e4\u00e4n kuvitellessani vaeltavani n\u00e4in\npuettuna halki Yorkshiren kreivikunnan.\nKas t\u00e4llaiselta min\u00e4 n\u00e4ytin:\nP\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 suuri, muodoton, pukinnahasta tehty karvalakki, siit\u00e4 riippui\nharteille pitk\u00e4 l\u00e4pp\u00e4, joka suojasi auringons\u00e4teilt\u00e4 ja esti sadeveden\nvalumasta niskaani.\nYll\u00e4 lyhyt takki, pukinnahasta sekin, karvat ulosp\u00e4in. Sen liepeet\nulottuivat takana melkein polviin. Jalassa avolahkeiset housut, vanhan\npukin pitk\u00e4villaisesta nahasta, jonka karvat roikkuivat pitkin\u00e4.\nSukkia ja kenki\u00e4 ei ollut ensink\u00e4\u00e4n. Niiden asemesta oli jonkinlaiset\nt\u00f6pp\u00f6set, joitten varret ulottuivat s\u00e4\u00e4riin ja olivat nauhoilla\nkiinnitett\u00e4v\u00e4t. Hyvin k\u00f6mpel\u00f6tekoiset ne olivat, niinkuin muutkin\ntamineeni.\nVy\u00f6t\u00e4isill\u00e4 leve\u00e4, edest\u00e4 solmittava hihnavy\u00f6. Siihen oli pistetty\nmiekan ja tikarin sijasta pieni saha toiselle ja k\u00e4sikirves toiselle\npuolelle. Toinen v\u00e4h\u00e4n kapeampi hihna kulki oikean olan yli, ja siin\u00e4\nriippui vasemmalla puolella kaksi nahkakukkaroa, toisessa ruutia,\ntoisessa hauleja ja luoteja. Sel\u00e4ss\u00e4 oli pajusta tehty vasu ja olalla\npyssy. Kaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n yli levitin suuren, hirmuisen ruman,\npukinnahkaisen p\u00e4iv\u00e4nvarjoni, joka oli l\u00e4hinn\u00e4 pyssy\u00e4 t\u00e4rkein\nvarusteeni.\nKasvojeni v\u00e4ri oli tumma, mutta ei kuitenkaan yht\u00e4 musta kuin\nmulatilla, vaikka elinkin yhdeks\u00e4nnell\u00e4 tai kymmenennell\u00e4 etel\u00e4isell\u00e4\nleveysasteella. Parran olin aluksi antanut kasvaa pitk\u00e4ksi, mutta\nmy\u00f6hemmin -- saksista ja partaveitsist\u00e4h\u00e4n minulla ei ollut puutetta\n-- leikkasin sen lyhyemm\u00e4ksi. Vain viikset j\u00e4tin pitkiksi, niin kuin\nolin n\u00e4hnyt turkkilaisilla Sal\u00e9ssa. Eiv\u00e4th\u00e4n ne tosin niin pitkiksi\nkasvaneet, ett\u00e4 niihin olisin voinut ripustaa hattuni, mutta olivat ne\nsent\u00e4\u00e4n niin hirmuiset, ett\u00e4 Englannissa niit\u00e4 olisi s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdetty.\nMutta v\u00e4h\u00e4tp\u00e4 siit\u00e4, milt\u00e4 n\u00e4ytin, kukapa minua t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 olisi\nkatsellut?\nT\u00e4llaisena l\u00e4hdin matkalleni ja viivyin kotoa poissa viisi, kuusi\np\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Ensi ty\u00f6kseni nousin m\u00e4enhuipulle, josta venematkalla\nollessani olin t\u00e4hystellyt maastoa. Meri oli nyt, ihmeellist\u00e4 kyll\u00e4,\nrasvatyyni. Merivirtoja ei n\u00e4kynyt miss\u00e4\u00e4n. L\u00e4hemmin asiaa tutkittuani\nhuomasin, ett\u00e4 l\u00e4nnest\u00e4 l\u00e4htev\u00e4 pakovesi yhdess\u00e4 jonkin suuren\nmannermaalta tulevan virran kanssa aiheutti nuo merivirrat, jotka\ntuulista riippuen kulkivat milloin l\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4 rantaa, milloin kauempana\nsiit\u00e4.\nJos silloin olisin tuon tiennyt, olisin nousu- ja pakovett\u00e4 hyv\u00e4kseni\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4en p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt takaisin omille rantavesille. Mutta oli miten oli,\ntoista kertaa ei en\u00e4\u00e4 mieli tehnyt l\u00e4hte\u00e4 purjehdusmatkalle.\nMutta nyt alkaa uusi vaihe el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4ni.\nKerran puolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikaan kulkiessani sinnep\u00e4in, miss\u00e4 kanoottini oli\nsuojassa, h\u00e4mm\u00e4styin sanomattomasti n\u00e4hty\u00e4ni rannan hiekassa selv\u00e4n\n_ihmisjalan j\u00e4ljen_. Tuntui kuin salama olisi iskenyt minuun, kuin\nolisin n\u00e4hnyt hirvitt\u00e4v\u00e4n aaveen. Kuuntelin ja t\u00e4hystelin ymp\u00e4rilleni,\nmutta en n\u00e4hnyt enk\u00e4 kuullut mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Nousin kukkulalle katselemaan,\nmutta viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n en huomannut mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Juoksentelin rannalla\nedestakaisin, mutta en n\u00e4hnyt muuta kuin t\u00e4m\u00e4n yhden ainoan j\u00e4ljen.\nLuulin n\u00e4hneeni v\u00e4\u00e4rin, mutta ei! Siin\u00e4 oli selv\u00e4 ihmisjalan j\u00e4lki:\nkantap\u00e4\u00e4, jalkapohja ja varpaat ihan selv\u00e4sti. Miten se oli t\u00e4h\u00e4n\npainunut, sit\u00e4 minun oli mahdotonta k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4.\nTuhansia ajatuksia alkoi risteill\u00e4 aivoissani, mutta yh\u00e4 sekavammalta\ntuntui t\u00e4m\u00e4 kummallinen ilmi\u00f6, ja silloin l\u00e4hdin juoksemaan linnaani\np\u00e4in. Juoksin niin ett\u00e4 tuskin tunsin maata jalkaini alla hirve\u00e4ss\u00e4\nahdistuksessani, aina parin kolmen askeleen per\u00e4st\u00e4 vilkaisten\ntaakseni ja luoden ep\u00e4luuloisia katseita joka puuhun ja pensaaseen.\nMiehelt\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti matkan p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 jokainen kanto ja kivi.\nSy\u00f6ksyin sitten hurjaa vauhtia linnaani niin kuin joku olisi ajanut\nminua takaa. Nuoraportaitako my\u00f6ten lienen sinne noussut vai kalliossa\nolevan aukon kautta, sit\u00e4 en muista en\u00e4\u00e4 ensink\u00e4\u00e4n. J\u00e4nis ei ole\nmilloinkaan piiloutunut pensaaseen eik\u00e4 kettu puikahtanut koloonsa\npahemmin s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4neen\u00e4 kuin min\u00e4 linnaani.\nEn koko y\u00f6n\u00e4 ummistanut silmi\u00e4ni. Mit\u00e4 pitemm\u00e4lle y\u00f6 kului, sit\u00e4\nenemm\u00e4n minua hirvitti. V\u00e4list\u00e4 luulin koko ilmi\u00f6t\u00e4 paholaisen ty\u00f6ksi.\nMiten j\u00e4lki saattaisi olla ihmisen tekem\u00e4? Miss\u00e4 oli laiva, joka olisi\nh\u00e4net tuonut t\u00e4nne? Miss\u00e4 olivat muut j\u00e4ljet? Mutta jos paholainen\nolisi tahtonut minua s\u00e4ik\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4, niin olisihan se osannut sen tehd\u00e4\nmuullakin tavalla kuin polkemalla j\u00e4ljen sellaiseen paikkaan, miss\u00e4\nhyvin harvoin liikuin ja miss\u00e4 ensimm\u00e4inen tuuli olisi saattanut\nlakaista j\u00e4ljen n\u00e4kym\u00e4tt\u00f6miin.\nEi! Varmaankin on mannermaalta tullut villej\u00e4 kanooteissaan t\u00e4nne,\njoko merivirran tai tuulen ajamina, ja sitten j\u00e4lleen soutanut pois\nulapalle. Kuinka kiitollinen olin mieless\u00e4ni siit\u00e4, etten samaan\naikaan sattunut olemaan sen puoleisella rannalla! Mutta ent\u00e4, jos\nvillit ovat l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet veneeni? Siit\u00e4h\u00e4n he ovat huomanneet, ett\u00e4\nsaaressa on asukkaita. Seuraavalla kerralla he tulevat t\u00e4nne miehiss\u00e4,\nl\u00f6yt\u00e4v\u00e4t minut, tappavat ja sy\u00f6v\u00e4t suuhunsa. Ja elleiv\u00e4t minua\nl\u00f6yt\u00e4isi, niin keksiv\u00e4t asuntoni, h\u00e4vitt\u00e4v\u00e4t viljapeltoni, raastavat\nkoko karjani! Hirvitt\u00e4vi\u00e4 ajatuksia!\nOmituista t\u00e4m\u00e4 ihmisel\u00e4m\u00e4n kirjavuus ja ristiriitaisuus! Mit\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n\nrakastaa, sit\u00e4 huomenna vihaa. Mit\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n etsii, sit\u00e4 huomenna\nvieroo. Olin koko t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 oloni aikana surrut sit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 olin yksin,\nilman ihmisseuraa. Suurin riemuni -- niin ajattelin aina -- olisi\nsaada joku ihmisolento seuralaisekseni. Ja nyt? Vapisin pelosta, ett\u00e4\nihmisi\u00e4 olisi k\u00e4ynyt saarella! Yksi ainoa ihmisen askelen j\u00e4lki rannan\nhiekassa oli saattaa minut suunniltani.\nAlussa oli hetki\u00e4, jolloin luottamukseni Jumalaan horjahti. En kyennyt\nhurjalta peloltani k\u00e4sitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nen tarkoituksiaan. Raamattu johti\nminut kumminkin taas oikealle tielle. Antauduin kokonaan Herran\nhuomaan, yht\u00e4 varmana kuin ennenkin siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tarkoittaa vain\nparastani. Mieleni tyyntyi ja rohkeuteni palasi j\u00e4lleen.\nPariin kolmeen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n en liikkunut linnastani mihink\u00e4\u00e4n. Mutta kun\nmuona oli lopussa ja vuohet lyps\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4, minun oli viimein l\u00e4hdett\u00e4v\u00e4\nulos ja lohdutin itse\u00e4ni sill\u00e4 ajatuksella, ett\u00e4 koko j\u00e4lki oli ollut\nharhan\u00e4ky. Menin huvilalleni, mutta yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4kin arastellen ja\nymp\u00e4rilleni t\u00e4hystellen, joka hetki valmiina pujahtamaan piiloon.\nVuohiparat olivat jo kovasti kaivanneet minua. Muutamaan p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n ei\nn\u00e4kynyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n ep\u00e4ilytt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4, ja siit\u00e4 kasvoi rohkeuteni yh\u00e4. K\u00e4v\u00e4isin\nviel\u00e4 kerran rannalla tutkimassa kummallista j\u00e4lke\u00e4. Siin\u00e4 se oli yh\u00e4\nedelleen. Olikohan se sitten oma j\u00e4lkeni, joka oli painunut hiekkaan\nsilloin, kun vein venett\u00e4 suojaan? Ei! Veneh\u00e4n oli kaukana t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4.\nMittasin j\u00e4lke\u00e4 omalla jalallani: j\u00e4lki oli paljon suurempi. Silloin\nminut valtasi j\u00e4lleen pelko ja kauhistus; minua puistatti kuin\nhorkassa. T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 on kuin onkin k\u00e4ynyt joku tai joitakuita. Kenties\nsaari onkin asuttu ja minut yll\u00e4tet\u00e4\u00e4n, ennen kuin luulenkaan. En\ntiennyt, miten olla, mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4.\nMiten omituisia p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6ksi\u00e4 ihminen tekeek\u00e4\u00e4n jouduttuaan s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksen\nvaltaan, aivan p\u00e4invastaisia kuin h\u00e4nen turvansa ja pelastumisensa\nvaatisi! Ensi kiihkossani aioin hajoittaa vuohitarhani ja ajaa el\u00e4imet\nkauas metsiin, jottei vihollinen niit\u00e4 l\u00f6yt\u00e4isi eik\u00e4 l\u00e4htisi lis\u00e4\u00e4\nsaalista hakemaan. Edelleen aioin k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4 molemmat viljapeltoni ja\nh\u00e4vitt\u00e4\u00e4 huvilani maan tasalle, jottei vain vihollinen vainuaisi\nasukkaita t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4.\nN\u00e4iss\u00e4 hurjissa ajatuksissa kului y\u00f6, ja vasta aamupuolella vaivuin\nsike\u00e4\u00e4n uneen. Her\u00e4tty\u00e4ni tunsin olevani koko lailla rauhallisempi.\nMietin n\u00e4in: saari ei olekaan niin asumaton kuin olen t\u00e4h\u00e4n saakka\nluullut. Joskus t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 n\u00e4kyy k\u00e4yv\u00e4n ihmisi\u00e4 mannermaalta.\nViiteentoista vuoteen en ollut n\u00e4hnyt ainoatakaan. Luultavaa on siis,\nett\u00e4 he vain sattumalta, kenties pakosta, nousevat rannalle ja ensi\ntilassa taas kiirehtiv\u00e4t pois. Minulla ei ole siis muuta teht\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 kuin\npysytell\u00e4 piilossa, jos satun heit\u00e4 n\u00e4kem\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMinua kadutti nyt, ett\u00e4 olin tehnyt toisen aukon luolaani. Tarkoin\npunnittuani p\u00e4\u00e4tin rakentaa entisen vallituksen ymp\u00e4rille\npuoliympyr\u00e4\u00e4n toisen samaan paikkaan, johon kaksitoista vuotta sitten\nolin istuttanut puita kahteen riviin. N\u00e4m\u00e4 olivat niin l\u00e4hell\u00e4\ntoisiaan ja olivat muodostaneet niin tihe\u00e4sti oksia, ett\u00e4 vahvikkeeksi\ntarvitsi vain ly\u00f6d\u00e4 pylv\u00e4it\u00e4 rivien v\u00e4liin. Minulla oli nyt\nkaksinkertainen valli linnani edustalla, ja ulomman vahvistin niin\nkuin edellisenkin k\u00f6ydenp\u00e4tkill\u00e4, seip\u00e4ill\u00e4 ynn\u00e4 muilla sopivilla\nesineill\u00e4. Sen sis\u00e4puolelle rakensin kymmenen jalkaa paksun sein\u00e4n\nluolasta tuomastani mullasta ja sorasta. Uloimpaan aitaukseen tein\nseitsem\u00e4n niin suurta aukkoa, ett\u00e4 k\u00e4sivarsi juuri mahtui l\u00e4pi, ja\nniihin asetin seitsem\u00e4n laivalta tuomaani muskettia, jotka kiinnitin\nlavetintapaisille alustoille niin lujasti, ett\u00e4 saatoin tarpeen tullen\nkahdessa minuutissa laukaista ne kaikki per\u00e4tysten.\nT\u00e4h\u00e4n ty\u00f6h\u00f6n minulta meni useita kuukausia, mutta en hellitt\u00e4nyt ennen\nkuin olin saanut sen valmiiksi, sill\u00e4 vasta nyt uskoin olevani\nt\u00e4ydess\u00e4 turvassa.\n\u00c4\u00e4rimm\u00e4isen vallin ulkopuolelle istutin sitten pajuja, sill\u00e4 tiesin,\nett\u00e4 niist\u00e4 jonkin ajan kuluttua kasvaisi tihe\u00e4 viidakko. Sen ja\nvallin v\u00e4liin j\u00e4tin laajan aukon, niin ett\u00e4 helposti saatoin vallin\ntakaa n\u00e4hd\u00e4 jokaisen, joka aikoi pyrki\u00e4 linnaani meren puolelta.\nKahden vuoden kuluttua kasvoikin jo paikalla taaja viidakko, ja\nviiden, kuuden vuoden kuluttua oli siihen muodostunut niin\nl\u00e4pip\u00e4\u00e4sem\u00e4t\u00f6n tiheikk\u00f6, ettei kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ihmisen p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n saattanut\njuolahtaakaan, ett\u00e4 sen takana piili ihmisasunto.\nSaatuani toisenkin vallin valmiiksi ryhdyin viel\u00e4 muihin varokeinoihin\nmahdollisesti tapahtuvien hy\u00f6kk\u00e4ysten varalta. Rakensin keskelle\nmets\u00e4\u00e4 sijaitsevalle aukiolle saaren it\u00e4osaan pienen varatarhan vuohia\nvarten. Se olikin verraten helppo tehd\u00e4, koska puita kasvoi tihe\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nSinne vein kaksi pukkia ja kymmenen em\u00e4vuohta.\nKahdestoista luku\nVenek\u00f6 ulapalla? -- Kaamea nuotio. -- Tuhoisia aikeita. Vaara ohi. --\nS\u00e4ik\u00e4hdys luolassa. -- Verraton tyyssija.\nOli kulunut kaksi vuotta siit\u00e4 kun olin n\u00e4hnyt askelen j\u00e4ljen.\nKulkiessani kerran saaren l\u00e4ntisess\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja silm\u00e4illess\u00e4ni er\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4\nm\u00e4elt\u00e4 ulapalle olin \u00e4kki\u00e4 n\u00e4kevin\u00e4ni kaukana merell\u00e4 jotakin veneen\ntapaista. Kotona minulla oli parikin kiikaria, jotka olin l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt\nlaivalta pelastamistani arkuista, mutta en koskaan kuljettanut niit\u00e4\nmukanani. Koetin teroittaa katsettani, mutta en voinut saada selv\u00e4\u00e4\nsiit\u00e4, oliko n\u00e4kem\u00e4ni vene vai jokin muu esine, siksi kaukana se oli.\nAlempaa en n\u00e4hnyt sit\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 ensink\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta p\u00e4\u00e4tin t\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien\nottaa aina kiikarin mukaani.\nMenin niemeen, mutta siell\u00e4 minut valtasi kammo ja kauhistus. En osaa\nsanoin selitt\u00e4\u00e4 s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyst\u00e4ni, kun n\u00e4in rannalla joukon ihmisten\nk\u00e4si\u00e4, jalkoja ja muita ruumiinosia. Nuotio ei ollut viel\u00e4 kokonaan\nsammunut, ja keskell\u00e4 sit\u00e4 n\u00e4in py\u00f6re\u00e4n kuopan, paistinhaudan\ntapaisen. Sen ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 nuo hirvi\u00f6t varmaankin olivat istuneet julmaa\njuhla-ateriaansa nauttimassa.\nOlin niin h\u00e4mm\u00e4stynyt moisesta n\u00e4yst\u00e4, etten v\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan muistanut\nlainkaan omaa turvallisuuttani. Ajattelin vain ihmisluonnon\nkammottavaa alennustilaa, petomaista raakuutta, josta t\u00e4m\u00e4 nuotio oli\ntodistuksena. Olin kuullut sellaisesta puhuttavan, mutta en ollut\nmilloinkaan n\u00e4in l\u00e4helt\u00e4 n\u00e4hnyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n siihen viittaavaa. K\u00e4\u00e4nsin\np\u00e4\u00e4ni tuosta hirvitt\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4 n\u00e4yst\u00e4; minua alkoi kuvottaa, olin v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4\nmenn\u00e4 tainnoksiin. Mutta minun oli mahdotonta viipy\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 kaameassa\npaikassa. Laahustin m\u00e4en t\u00f6rm\u00e4lle takaisin ja sielt\u00e4 kotiin niin\nkiireesti kuin jaksoin.\nSiell\u00e4 mieleni taas rauhoittui enk\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 pel\u00e4nnyt oman turvallisuuteni\npuolesta. Selv\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n oli, ett\u00e4 nuo hurjat olennot vain pist\u00e4ytyiv\u00e4t\nn\u00e4ill\u00e4 rannoilla. Kahdeksaantoista vuoteen en ollut heit\u00e4 kertaakaan\nn\u00e4hnyt ja luultavasti saisin toisetkin kahdeksantoista vuotta olla\nheist\u00e4 rauhassa, ellen vain itse antaisi itse\u00e4ni ilmi. Minun ei\ntarvitse muuta kuin pysy\u00e4 linnassani, jos Luoja ei l\u00e4het\u00e4 luokseni\nmuita ihmisi\u00e4 kuin ihmissy\u00f6ji\u00e4.\nNiin sanomattoman kammon ja inhon olin saanut noita petomaisia\nihmissy\u00f6ji\u00e4 kohtaan, etten kahteen vuoteen juuri mennyt oman piirini\nulkopuolelle. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 tarkoitan linnaa, huvilaa ja karjatarhojani.\nV\u00e4hitellen palasi entinen rauhallinen turvallisuudentunteeni. Noudatin\nvain entist\u00e4 suurempaa varovaisuutta. N\u00e4in\u00e4 kahtena vuotena laukaisin\ntuskin kertaakaan pyssy\u00e4ni pel\u00e4ten, ett\u00e4 noita hirtehisi\u00e4 sattuisi\nolemaan saarella ja pamaus saisi heid\u00e4t miehiss\u00e4 tutkimaan saarta\ntarkemmin. Eik\u00e4 minun tarvinnut pyssy\u00e4 k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 sain niin\npaljon lihaa kuin tarvitsin omasta karjastani, ja jos milloin mieli\nteki mets\u00e4lle, pyydystelin ansoilla. Laivalta tuomistani kolmesta\npistoolista oli minulla kaksi aina vy\u00f6ll\u00e4 ulkona liikkuessani.\nSit\u00e4paitsi olin hionut ter\u00e4v\u00e4ksi miekan, laivan saaliita sekin, ja\nkannoin sit\u00e4 olkahihnassa kupeellani. Sangen sotilaalliselta mahdoin\nn\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4kin kaikissa varustuksissani. Miekka oli tosin tuppea vailla,\nmutta sit\u00e4 uljaamman n\u00e4k\u00f6inen!\nYh\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n alkoi minulle selvit\u00e4, ettei el\u00e4m\u00e4ni ollut ensink\u00e4\u00e4n\nonnetonta verrattuna monen muun el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n. Tulin ajatelleeksi, miten\npaljon v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n tyytym\u00e4tt\u00f6myytt\u00e4 olisi maailmassa, jos ihmiset\nmuistaisivat, ett\u00e4 moni muu on viel\u00e4 pahemmassa tilassa kuin he, ja\njos he oppisivat olemaan kiitollisia v\u00e4h\u00e4st\u00e4 sen sijaan, ett\u00e4 vain\nvalittavat ja vaikeroivat.\nKekseli\u00e4isyyteni alkoi n\u00e4in\u00e4 aikoina askarrella varsin omituisella\nalalla. Y\u00f6t\u00e4 ja p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 n\u00e4et ajattelin, miten saisin noita raakalaisia\ntuhotuksi kesken heid\u00e4n julmia juhla-aterioitaan ja samalla\npelastetuksi onnettomat uhrit heid\u00e4n k\u00e4sist\u00e4\u00e4n. Tulisipa siit\u00e4 paksu\nkirja, paksumpi kuin koko t\u00e4m\u00e4 teos, jos k\u00e4visin kertomaan, mit\u00e4\nkaikkia keinoja mieleeni johtui villien s\u00e4ikytt\u00e4miseksi niin, ettei\nheid\u00e4n mielens\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 milloinkaan tekisi t\u00e4m\u00e4n saaren rannoille. Mutta\nkaikki ne huomasin mahdottomiksi, sill\u00e4 mit\u00e4 yksi ainoa mies mahtaa\nparille-, kolmellekymmenelle rajulle villille, jotka keih\u00e4ill\u00e4\u00e4n ja\nnuolillaan osuvat yht\u00e4 tarkasti maaliin kuin min\u00e4 pyssyll\u00e4ni?\nV\u00e4liin ajattelin, ett\u00e4 ent\u00e4 jospa kaivaisin kuopan heid\u00e4n\nnuotiopaikkansa alle ja pist\u00e4isin siihen viisi, kuusi naulaa ruutia?\nKun villit sitten istuisivat nuotionsa ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4, ruuti r\u00e4j\u00e4ht\u00e4isi ja\nlenn\u00e4tt\u00e4isi heid\u00e4t ilmaan joka miehen. Mutta hylk\u00e4sin t\u00e4m\u00e4nkin keinon,\nsill\u00e4 ensinn\u00e4kin oli s\u00e4\u00e4li tuhlata heid\u00e4n t\u00e4htens\u00e4 niin paljon ruutia,\njota minulla muutenkaan ei ollut en\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4ljell\u00e4 kuin tynnyrillinen;\ntoiseksi: kuka tiet\u00e4\u00e4, syttyisik\u00f6 ruuti juuri parhaaseen aikaan? Eih\u00e4n\nsiit\u00e4 ole apua, jos he vain s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4t ja naama heilt\u00e4 k\u00e4rventyy; se\nei est\u00e4 heit\u00e4 tulemasta t\u00e4nne uudestaan. Hylk\u00e4sin kuin hylk\u00e4sinkin\nsiis t\u00e4m\u00e4n keinon.\nEnt\u00e4 jos k\u00e4visin v\u00e4ijyksiin mukanani kolme pyssy\u00e4, joissa olisi\nkaksoispanokset, ja laukaisisin heihin kesken heid\u00e4n verisi\u00e4 kemujaan?\nPari kolme villi\u00e4 kaatuisi tai haavoittuisi joka laukauksella, ja\nsitten hy\u00f6kk\u00e4isin heid\u00e4n kimppuunsa varustettuna kolmella pistoolilla\nja miekalla. Vaikka heit\u00e4 olisi kaksikymment\u00e4 miest\u00e4, niin tappaisin\nheid\u00e4t kaikki.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 keino tuntui minusta niin k\u00e4yt\u00e4nn\u00f6lliselt\u00e4, etten muutamaan\nviikkoon juuri muuta miettinytk\u00e4\u00e4n. Unissakin olin joskus\nhy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4vin\u00e4ni villien kimppuun. L\u00f6ysin vihdoin rannalta m\u00e4enrinteest\u00e4\nsopivan paikankin, josta saatoin t\u00e4hystell\u00e4 heid\u00e4n veneittens\u00e4 tuloa.\nN\u00e4hty\u00e4ni ne enn\u00e4tt\u00e4isin varsin hyvin piiloutua tihe\u00e4\u00e4n mets\u00e4\u00e4n ja\nk\u00e4tkeyty\u00e4 siell\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4seen onttoon puuhun, joka olisi sopiva\nv\u00e4ijym\u00e4paikaksi. Sielt\u00e4 voisin seurata heid\u00e4n liikkeit\u00e4\u00e4n ja t\u00e4hd\u00e4t\u00e4\ntarkkaan, kun he ker\u00e4ytyisiv\u00e4t yhteen. Sielt\u00e4 en ampuisi harhaan\nainoatakaan laukausta. Niinp\u00e4 varustinkin sit\u00e4 varten kaksi muskettia\nja lintupyssyn. Edellisiin pistin pari metallipalasta ja nelj\u00e4, viisi\npient\u00e4 luotia; lintupyssyn latasin kourallisella karkeita hauleja.\nKuhunkin pistooliin panin nelj\u00e4 luotia ja varustin viel\u00e4 muutamia\npanoksia kutakin ampuma-asetta varten. N\u00e4in olin nyt valmis\nvastaanottamaan juhlilleen saapuvia ihmissy\u00f6ji\u00e4.\nT\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien k\u00e4vin joka aamu t\u00e4hystysm\u00e4ell\u00e4, joka oli linnastani\nparin, kolmen peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja sielt\u00e4 tarkastelin kiikarillani,\noliko veneit\u00e4 tulossa merelt\u00e4 p\u00e4in. Kolme kuukautta jatkoin\nuskollisesti t\u00e4t\u00e4 tiedusteluty\u00f6t\u00e4, mutta kun joka kerta palasin tyhjin\ntoimin, v\u00e4syin viimein koko hommaan.\nNiin kauan kuin k\u00e4vin villej\u00e4 vaanimassa kesti suuttumuksenikin heid\u00e4n\njulmia tapojansa kohtaan, ja joka hetki olin valmis ampumaan ja\nly\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n pari-, kolmekymment\u00e4 alastonta villi\u00e4 kuoliaaksi. Mutta ajan\nmittaan aloin rauhallisemmin pohtia asiaa. Mik\u00e4 oikeus minulla oli\nnousta tuomariksi ja tuomion toimeenpanijaksi n\u00e4ille ihmisille, jotka\nvuosisatoja olivat saaneet jatkaa hirmut\u00f6it\u00e4\u00e4n joutumatta taivaan\nrangaistuksen alaisiksi? Minullehan he eiv\u00e4t olleet tehneet mit\u00e4\u00e4n\npahaa. Olinko min\u00e4 oikeutettu vaatimaan heit\u00e4 tilille verest\u00e4, jota he\nkesken\u00e4ns\u00e4 vuodattivat? Mist\u00e4 min\u00e4 tiesin, mink\u00e4 tuomion Jumala t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nasiassa antaisi? Eiv\u00e4th\u00e4n nuo ihmisparat edes tienneet tekoansa\nrikolliseksi, eik\u00e4 heill\u00e4 ollut omantunnon vaivoja. Sotavangin\ntappaminen oli heid\u00e4n k\u00e4sityksens\u00e4 mukaan yht\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4n rikollista kuin\nmeist\u00e4 h\u00e4r\u00e4n teurastaminen. He s\u00f6iv\u00e4t ihmislihaa yht\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ll\u00e4\nruokahalulla kuin me lampaanlihaa.\nNiinp\u00e4 luovuinkin aikeistani k\u00e4yd\u00e4 heid\u00e4n kimppuunsa, niin kauan kuin\nhe eiv\u00e4t ahdista minua. P\u00e4\u00e4huolenani oli nyt pysy\u00e4 heilt\u00e4 piilossa.\nJos he sittenkin huomaisivat minut ja ryhtyisiv\u00e4t minua ahdistamaan,\nniin kyll\u00e4 sitten keinot keksin.\nN\u00e4in kului kokonainen vuosi. En k\u00e4ynyt kertaakaan toisella rannalla\nt\u00e4hystelem\u00e4ss\u00e4 merelle. Ainoa toimenpide villien hy\u00f6kk\u00e4yksen varalta\noli se, ett\u00e4 siirsin veneeni saaren it\u00e4iseen p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, jossa k\u00e4tkin sen\npieneen poukamaan korkeitten kallioitten v\u00e4liin. Merivirtojen t\u00e4hden\nvillit eiv\u00e4t voisi tulla sinne milloinkaan, siit\u00e4 olin varma.\nSuurta varovaisuutta noudatin muutoinkin. Linnasta l\u00e4hdin harvoin\nmuualle kuin v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6miin t\u00f6ihin, vuohia lyps\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ja mets\u00e4ss\u00e4\nolevaa tarhaani hoitamaan.\nLukija kai ihmettelee kuullessaan, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 alituinen pelko ja\nvaarojen uhka tukahdutti minussa kerrassaan kaiken keksimisinnon ja\nesti minua hoitamasta monia asioita, jotka ennen olivat tehneet\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ni mukavaksi. Oma turvallisuuteni oli nyt ainoa huoleni. Tuskin\nuskalsin ly\u00f6d\u00e4 naulaa sein\u00e4\u00e4n tai halkaista puuta, jottei pauke ja\nkolina olisi kuulunut rannalle. Viel\u00e4 v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n uskalsin laukaista\npyssy\u00e4. Eniten pelk\u00e4sin sytytt\u00e4\u00e4 valkeata, sill\u00e4 korkealle nouseva\nsavu olisi saattanut helposti ilmaista minut. Sen vuoksi suoritin\nsellaiset ty\u00f6t, joissa tarvitaan tulta, niinkuin saviastiain ja\npiippujen polttamisen, kaukana rannalta saaren sis\u00e4osissa. Sielt\u00e4\nl\u00f6ysin suureksi ilokseni syv\u00e4n ja tarpeeksi avaran luolan. Siin\u00e4\nminulla oli erinomainen k\u00e4tk\u00f6paikka.\nLuolan suu oli korkean vuoren kupeessa. L\u00f6ysin sen sattumalta\nhakatessani kerran puista oksia, joista aioin polttaa hiili\u00e4. Niit\u00e4\nn\u00e4et k\u00e4ytin paistaessani leip\u00e4\u00e4 ja keitt\u00e4ess\u00e4ni ruokaa, koska niist\u00e4\nei l\u00e4htenyt savua kuin nimeksi. Sit\u00e4 tehdess\u00e4ni huomasin tihe\u00e4n ja\nmatalan pensaan takana jonkinlaisen aukon. Ry\u00f6mitty\u00e4ni uteliaana siit\u00e4\nsis\u00e4\u00e4n jouduin niin avaraan luolaan, ett\u00e4 saatoin seisoa siin\u00e4\npystyss\u00e4. Mutta \u00e4kki\u00e4 tuli minulle kiire p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 sielt\u00e4 pois nopeammin\nkuin olin tullut, sill\u00e4 pime\u00e4n luolan per\u00e4ll\u00e4 huomasin kaksi kiiluvaa\nsilm\u00e4\u00e4, joihin aukon suusta tuleva himme\u00e4 valo heijastui. Ensi\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksest\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ni rohkaisin mieleni, hain ulkoa hehkuvan\nkek\u00e4leen ja menin j\u00e4lleen luolaan.\nKauhistuin yh\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n: luolan per\u00e4lt\u00e4 kuului aivan kuin tuskissaan\nolevan ihmisen syv\u00e4 huokaus. Sit\u00e4 seurasi muutamia katkonaisia\n\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00e4hdyksi\u00e4 ja sitten taas syv\u00e4 huokaus. Per\u00e4ydyin, kylm\u00e4 hiki nousi\notsalleni, selk\u00e4piit\u00e4ni karmi. Hetken per\u00e4st\u00e4 rohkaisin kuitenkin\nj\u00e4lleen mieleni ajatellen, ett\u00e4 Jumalahan on l\u00e4sn\u00e4 joka paikassa ja\nvoi kyll\u00e4 suojella minua. Kuljin eteenp\u00e4in pit\u00e4en palavaa kek\u00e4lett\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4ni p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja huomasin suuren, vanhan pukin, joka oli\nhenkihieveriss\u00e4\u00e4n. Kosketin sit\u00e4 jalallani, se koetti nousta pystyyn,\nmutta ei jaksanut. J\u00e4tin sen rauhaan.\nKatsoin nyt tarkemmin ymp\u00e4rilleni. Luola oli etuosastaan noin\nkaksitoista kertaa kaksitoista jalkaa, s\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6t\u00f6n, sellaisenaan kuin\noli luonnon k\u00e4sist\u00e4 l\u00e4htenyt. Per\u00e4llep\u00e4in luola kapeni kapenemistaan\nniin matalaksi ja pieneksi aukoksi, ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyi ry\u00f6mien\ntunkeutua siit\u00e4 sis\u00e4\u00e4n. Koska en tiennyt ensink\u00e4\u00e4n, minne t\u00e4m\u00e4 matala\naukko vei, eik\u00e4 minulla ollut kynttil\u00f6it\u00e4 mukanani, p\u00e4\u00e4tin k\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4\ntakaisin ja tulla seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 uudestaan mukanani kynttil\u00f6it\u00e4 ja\ntulukset, joihin olin ottanut piin musketin hanasta.\nSeuraavana aamuna menin uudestaan luolalle, mukanani kuusi paksua\nkynttil\u00e4\u00e4. Ne olin tehnyt vuohen talista, ja niiden syd\u00e4min\u00e4 oli\nrievun kaistaleita tai nokkosen tapaisen kasvin kuivattuja syit\u00e4.\nP\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ni luolan taka-aukosta nelinkontin sis\u00e4lle huomasin joutuneeni\ntoiseen, l\u00e4hes kaksikymment\u00e4 jalkaa korkeaan luolaan. Silm\u00e4ni eiv\u00e4t\nolleet t\u00e4ll\u00e4 saarella viel\u00e4 koskaan kohdanneet niin ihanaa n\u00e4ky\u00e4:\nkahden kynttil\u00e4ni liekit heijastuivat seinist\u00e4 tuhansina ja taas\ntuhansina s\u00e4ihkyvin\u00e4 valoina. Timanttejako sielt\u00e4 v\u00e4lk\u00e4hteli vai muita\nkalliita kivi\u00e4 vai kultasuonetko siell\u00e4 kimaltelivat, en tied\u00e4. Luola\noli kerrassaan ihmeellinen, mutta pilkkosen pime\u00e4. Pohja oli kuiva ja\ntasainen, aivan kuin pienill\u00e4 piikivill\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4llystetty. Mit\u00e4\u00e4n\ninhottavia matelijoita ei n\u00e4kynyt miss\u00e4\u00e4n. Ei noussut kosteita kaasuja\nja katto ja sein\u00e4t olivat aivan kuivat.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4h\u00e4n oli verraton piilopaikka, ja t\u00e4nne p\u00e4\u00e4tin heti tuoda kaikki\nkallisarvoisimmat tavarani, nimitt\u00e4in ruudit, kaksi lintupyssy\u00e4, joita\nminulla oli kolme, ja samoin kolme muskettia, joita yhteens\u00e4 oli\nkahdeksan. Viisi niist\u00e4 j\u00e4tin aikaisemmin laittamiini ampumareikiin\nlinnan uloimmassa vallissa. K\u00e4sitelless\u00e4ni ampumavaroja tulin\navanneeksi senkin tynnyrin, jossa oli kastunutta ruutia. Vesi oli\ntunkeutunut sis\u00e4\u00e4n kolme nelj\u00e4 tuumaa joka puolelta muodostaen kovan\nkuoren, mutta sen sis\u00e4ll\u00e4 oleva ruuti oli s\u00e4ilynyt aivan kuivana ja\nkelvollisena. T\u00e4ten sain ruutivarastooni lis\u00e4\u00e4 l\u00e4hes kuusikymment\u00e4\nnaulaa, ja siit\u00e4 olin iloinen. Linnaani j\u00e4tin kotitarpeiksi vain noin\npari kolme naulaa ruutia. Luolaan kannoin my\u00f6s kaiken lyijyn, mit\u00e4\nminulla oli.\nKolmastoista luku\nAjanvietteeni. -- Villej\u00e4 n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4. -- Tykin laukaus merelt\u00e4. --\nJ\u00e4lleen laivanhylyll\u00e4. -- Kaikenlaista saalista.\nNyt olin kuin joku muinaisajan j\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen. Taruhan kertoo, ett\u00e4\nj\u00e4ttil\u00e4iset asuivat muinoin luolissa ja vuorenrotkoissa ja niiden\nluokse ei p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt kukaan. P\u00e4\u00e4sk\u00f6\u00f6n minun j\u00e4ljilleni vaikka viisisataa\nvilli\u00e4, t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t ikin\u00e4 minua l\u00f6yt\u00e4isi, ja jos l\u00f6yt\u00e4isiv\u00e4tkin,\nniin ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n heist\u00e4 uskaltaisi pist\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4nne p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nVanha, kuolemaisillaan oleva pukki heitti henkens\u00e4 seuraavana aamuna\nluolan suulle, ja min\u00e4 hautasin sen luolaan, koska se oli helpompaa\nkuin pukin raahaaminen ulos kapeasta aukosta.\nOlin nyt asunut saarella kolmekolmatta vuotta ja olin niin perehtynyt\nsiihen ja tottunut el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4ni t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, ett\u00e4 jos vain olisin voinut tiet\u00e4\u00e4\nolevani t\u00e4ydess\u00e4 turvassa villeilt\u00e4, olisin kernaasti tahtonut t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4ni. Kuvittelin ett\u00e4 ajan tultua laskeutuisin luolan\nkivilattialle ja vet\u00e4isin viimeisen henk\u00e4ykseni niin kuin pukkikin.\nMinulta ei puuttunut hauskaa ajanvietett\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. Hupaista oli kuunnella\nPoll poikani, papukaijani puhelua. Selv\u00e4sti ja sujuvasti se oli\noppinut lausumaan sanoja eletty\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 minun kanssani kokonaista\nkuusitoista vuotta. Miten kauan se mahtaisi el\u00e4\u00e4 minun j\u00e4lkeeni?\nBrasiliassa kertoivat papukaijan el\u00e4v\u00e4n sata vuotta. -- Hauska ja\nuskollinen toveri oli koiranikin ollut kuusitoista pitk\u00e4\u00e4 vuotta,\nkunnes se viimein vanhuuttaan kuoli. -- Laivalta tuomani kissat olivat\njo aikoja sitten kuolleet, mutta niiden j\u00e4lkel\u00e4iset, kuten jo olen\nkertonut, olivat lis\u00e4\u00e4ntyneet niin runsaasti, ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyi ampua\nniist\u00e4 useita, muutenhan ne olisivat sy\u00f6neet minut puille paljaille.\nMuita min\u00e4 alinomaan h\u00e4\u00e4din pois, ja koska ne eiv\u00e4t saaneet minulta\nen\u00e4\u00e4 ruokaa, ne pakenivat metsiin, jossa kokonaan villiintyiv\u00e4t. Pari\nkolme lempikissaa kuitenkin pidin ja kohtelin niit\u00e4 kuin\nperheenj\u00e4seni\u00e4, vaikka hukutinkin aina niiden poikaset. -- Oli minulla\npari kolme kesy\u00e4 vuohtakin, jotka totutin sy\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4dest\u00e4. -- Kaksi\nmuutakin papukaijaa minulla oli, ja nekin osasivat sanoa \"Robin\nCrusoe\", mutta ei se niilt\u00e4 niin liukkaasti sujunut kuin Pollilta. --\nMuutamia muita kesyj\u00e4 lintuja minulla my\u00f6s oli. Ne olin poikasina\nottanut kiinni merenrannalta ja leikannut niilt\u00e4 siivet. Pian ne\nkesyyntyiv\u00e4t ja eleliv\u00e4t sitten linnani l\u00e4heisess\u00e4 viidakossa pesien\nsen puissa.\nOli joulukuu, t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 oloni kolmantenakolmatta vuotena, parhaillaan\nelonkorjuun aika. Kerran aamulla l\u00e4hdin ulos jo ennen p\u00e4iv\u00e4nkoittoa\npeltojani katsomaan, mutta tuskin olin montaakaan askelta enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt\nottaa, niin huomasin nuotiosavun nousevan rannalta parin peninkulman\np\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 linnastani. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa se ei noussut silt\u00e4 puolen saarta,\nminne villej\u00e4 oli ennen kokoontunut, vaan kauhukseni juuri minun\npuoleiseltani rannalta.\nS\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksiss\u00e4ni pys\u00e4hdyin vallin sis\u00e4puolelle uskaltamatta kulkea\neteenp\u00e4in. Olin varma, ett\u00e4 nyt he l\u00f6yt\u00e4v\u00e4t viljavainioni ja\nvuohitarhani, huomaisivat siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 saarella on asukkaita, eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4\nhellitt\u00e4isi, ennen kuin olisivat l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet minut. Kiiruhdin takaisin\nlinnaani ja vedin tikapuut sis\u00e4puolelle.\nAsetuin sitten puolustusasemaan. Latasin kaikki tykit, joiksi sanoin\nmuskettejani, samoin pistoolini, p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en puolustautua viimeiseen\nhengenvetoon ja hartaasti rukoillen Jumalaa pelastamaan minut\nraakalaisten k\u00e4sist\u00e4.\nKaksi pitk\u00e4\u00e4 tuntia odottelin, mit\u00e4 tapahtuisi, mutta kun ei mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nkuulunut, en malttanut en\u00e4\u00e4 pysy\u00e4 piilossa, vaan nostin tikapuut\nvuoren sein\u00e4\u00e4 vasten ja nousin kiikari k\u00e4dess\u00e4 linnan yl\u00e4puolella\nolevalle penkereelle. K\u00e4vin siell\u00e4 pitk\u00e4kseni vatsalleni ja rupesin\nt\u00e4hystelem\u00e4\u00e4n. Kaukana rannalla n\u00e4in yhdeks\u00e4n alastonta villi\u00e4\nistumassa nuotion ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 eik\u00e4 suinkaan l\u00e4mmittelem\u00e4ss\u00e4, sill\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\noli helteinen, vaan n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti sy\u00f6m\u00e4ss\u00e4 julmaa ateriaansa.\nRannan hiekalla oli kaksi kanoottia. Parhaillaan oli pakoveden aika,\nvillit n\u00e4kyiv\u00e4t vain odottelevan nousuvett\u00e4 l\u00e4hte\u00e4kseen saarelta pois.\nHelppoa on kuvailla, kuinka h\u00e4mm\u00e4stynyt olin n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni, ett\u00e4 villej\u00e4\nsaattoi tulla t\u00e4llekin puolelle saarta. Lohdullista oli kuitenkin\nsamalla havaita, ett\u00e4 he tulivat t\u00e4nne ainoastaan pakoveden ajaksi.\nNousuveden aikana saisin siis olla heilt\u00e4 rauhassa.\nN\u00e4in todella olikin. Nousuveden tultua he astuivat veneisiins\u00e4 ja\nl\u00e4htiv\u00e4t soutamaan ulapalle tanssittuaan sit\u00e4 ennen huimia tanssejaan\nnuotion ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4. Ilkialastomia he n\u00e4kyiv\u00e4t olevan kaikki.\nTultuani penkereelt\u00e4 alas otin kaksi ladattua pyssy\u00e4, pistin vy\u00f6h\u00f6ni\nkaksi pistoolia, sidoin kupeelleni miekan ja n\u00e4in varustettuna l\u00e4hdin\nsille korkealle m\u00e4elle, josta ensiksi olin villit huomannut. Koska\nmatka sinne oli pitk\u00e4 ja minulla oli raskas kantamus, kesti pari\ntuntia, ennen kuin p\u00e4\u00e4sin perille. Sielt\u00e4 n\u00e4in kiikarilla, ett\u00e4\nrannassa oli ollut kolme muutakin kanoottia, sill\u00e4 viisi veneellist\u00e4\nheit\u00e4 nyt souti kaukana mannermaata kohti.\nKaamea oli tuo n\u00e4ky ja viel\u00e4 kaameampi kohtasi minua, kun rannalle\ntultuani n\u00e4in kauhistavan aterian j\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6kset: verta, ihmisen luita ja\nlihanpalasia. Vimmastuin siit\u00e4 niin, ett\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4tin ensi kerralla surmata\nheid\u00e4t kaikki, olkoon heit\u00e4 kuinka monta hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nIlmeist\u00e4 siis oli, etteiv\u00e4t villit k\u00e4yneet saaressa kuin hyvin\nharvoin. Kuluikin kokonaista viisitoista kuukautta, ennen kuin heid\u00e4t\ntaas n\u00e4in. Sadekautena he eiv\u00e4t l\u00e4hteneet liikkeelle, eiv\u00e4t ainakaan\nn\u00e4in kauas. Mutta vaikka tiesinkin villien k\u00e4yv\u00e4n saarella vain\naniharvoin, oli el\u00e4m\u00e4ni t\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien taas yht\u00e4mittaista\nlevottomuutta, koska heid\u00e4n palaamisensa oli aina mieless\u00e4ni. Ja kovan\nonnen odotteleminenhan on paljon pahempaa kuin sen k\u00e4rsiminen.\nKuinka hyv\u00e4 olikaan, ett\u00e4 olin hankkinut itselleni karjaa, sill\u00e4\nentist\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n pelk\u00e4sin nyt laukaista pyssy\u00e4ni mets\u00e4ss\u00e4. Olisihan\nmahdollista, ett\u00e4 he l\u00e4htisiv\u00e4t ensimm\u00e4ist\u00e4 laukausta pakoon, mutta\nyht\u00e4 mahdollista, ett\u00e4 heit\u00e4 sitten saapuisi saareen vaikkapa sadoin\nkanootein, ja silloin olisin auttamattomasti hukassa. Mutta kuten jo\nmainitsin, kului vuosi ja kolme kuukautta, ennen kuin taas n\u00e4in\nheid\u00e4t. T\u00e4m\u00e4 v\u00e4liaika oli minulle alituista mielenj\u00e4nnityst\u00e4. Usein\nolin unissanikin taistelevinani villien kanssa ja v\u00e4list\u00e4 kavahdin\nkeskell\u00e4 y\u00f6t\u00e4 yl\u00f6s vuoteeltani. Mutta siit\u00e4 kerron my\u00f6hemmin enemm\u00e4n.\nOli toukokuun 16., mik\u00e4li pylv\u00e4skalenteristani laskin oikein. Koko\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n oli raivonnut ankara myrsky, oli jyrissyt ja salamoinut. Ilta\npimeni ja yh\u00e4 ulvoi ulkona rajuilma. Istuin luolassani lukemassa\nRaamattua syviin ajatuksiin vaipuneena, kun \u00e4kki\u00e4 kuului merelt\u00e4 tykin\nlaukaus. T\u00e4m\u00e4 oli niin tavatonta ja outoa, ja sit\u00e4 paitsi oli\nvuosikausia siit\u00e4, kun olin kuullut sellaista, ettei ihmek\u00e4\u00e4n, jos\nuusia, kauan k\u00e4tk\u00f6ss\u00e4 olleita ajatuksia nyt alkoi tulla mieleeni.\nSilm\u00e4nr\u00e4p\u00e4yksess\u00e4 riensin ulos, asetin tikapuut vuorta vasten,\nkiipesin penkereelle ja siit\u00e4 vuoren huipulle saakka. Sinne p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ni\nv\u00e4l\u00e4hti merelt\u00e4 p\u00e4in leimaus, ja puolen minuutin kuluttua kuului\nlaukaus silt\u00e4 puolen saarta, minne aallot olivat heitt\u00e4neet minut\nrannalle.\nAjattelin ett\u00e4 ulapalla oli varmaankin laiva, joka ampui\nh\u00e4t\u00e4laukauksia pyyt\u00e4en apua. Sen verran mielenmalttia minulla viel\u00e4\noli, ett\u00e4 ker\u00e4sin nopeasti kuivista puista ja risuista suuren r\u00f6ykki\u00f6n\nja sytytin sen palamaan. Kovasta tuulesta huolimatta roihusi pian\nrovio vuoren huipulla. Laivan t\u00e4ytyy huomata t\u00e4m\u00e4, ajattelin. Ja\noikeassa olinkin, sill\u00e4 heti kuului laukaus j\u00e4lleen ja sen j\u00e4lkeen\nviel\u00e4 useita, yh\u00e4 vain samalta suunnalta. Poltin roviota koko y\u00f6n\naamunkoittoon saakka. P\u00e4iv\u00e4n valjettua huomasin kaukana ulapalla\nsaaresta suoraan it\u00e4\u00e4n jonkin esineen, mutta kiikarillakaan en osannut\nerottaa, oliko se purje vai laivanrunko, koska v\u00e4limatka oli pitk\u00e4 ja\nilma sumuinen.\nT\u00e4hystelin sit\u00e4 sitten koko p\u00e4iv\u00e4n. Se n\u00e4kyi pys\u00e4htyneen yhteen\nkohtaan, johon se oli varmaankin ankkuroitu. Saadakseni varmuuden\nasiasta sieppasin pyssyni ja riensin saaren etel\u00e4iselle rannalle\nniiden kallioiden luo, joille merivirta kerran oli minut ajanut. Ilma\noli kokonaan selvinnyt, ja suureksi surukseni n\u00e4in laivanhylyn, jonka\nmyrsky oli n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti y\u00f6ll\u00e4 paiskannut kallioita vasten. Katselin\nedess\u00e4ni olevaa murheellista n\u00e4ky\u00e4 ja mietin jos jotakin. Kenties\nlaivav\u00e4ki oli nuotiotulen huomattuaan laskeutunut y\u00f6ll\u00e4 veneisiin ja\nkoettanut pyrki\u00e4 maihin, mutta kova aallokko oli paiskannut veneet\nkumoon. Tai kenties hy\u00f6kylaineet olivat ly\u00f6neet laivan yli niin\nhurjasti, ett\u00e4 kaikki veneet olivat s\u00e4rkyneet. Vai olisiko jokin\ntoinen laiva h\u00e4t\u00e4laukaukset kuultuaan tullut sen avuksi ja pelastanut\nmiehet? Vai olisivatko veneet miehineen p\u00e4ivineen joutuneet merivirran\nvaltaan ja ajautuneet kauas ulapalle, jossa poloisten t\u00e4ytyisi kuolla\nn\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4n ja janoon?\nMutta mit\u00e4p\u00e4 muuta saatoin tehd\u00e4 kuin syv\u00e4sti surkutella noita\nihmisparkoja. En osaa sanoin kuvata, kuinka haikeaksi tunsin mieleni.\nOlisipa edes pari henke\u00e4 tai vaikkapa vain yksi pelastunut rannalle,\nniin olisi minullakin ihmisolento, jonka kanssa saisin puhua! En ollut\nyksin\u00e4isyydess\u00e4ni milloinkaan viel\u00e4 niin katkerasti kaivannut\nihmisseuraa kuin juuri nyt.\n-- Kunpa edes yksi olisi pelastunut! toivoin ik\u00e4viss\u00e4ni. Yksi ainoa\nedes!\nMutta mist\u00e4p\u00e4 olisin voinut tiet\u00e4\u00e4, oliko laivalta pelastunut ket\u00e4\u00e4n.\nParin p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua ilmestyi silmieni eteen syd\u00e4nt\u00e4s\u00e4rkev\u00e4 n\u00e4ky:\nrannalla laivanhylyn kohdalla makasi aaltojen tuoma hukkuneen pojan\nruumis. H\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli yll\u00e4\u00e4n vain merimiestakki, sen alla sininen,\nliinainen paita ja jalassa avaralahkeiset housut. H\u00e4nell\u00e4 ei ollut\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n, mist\u00e4 olisin voinut p\u00e4\u00e4tell\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kansallisuutensa. Taskussa\noli pari piasteria ja piippu. J\u00e4lkimm\u00e4inen oli minulle monin verroin\narvokkaampi kuin rahat.\nIlma oli nyt kokonaan tyyntynyt, ja mieleni teki l\u00e4hte\u00e4 l\u00e4hemmin\ntarkastelemaan laivanhylky\u00e4. Arvelin ett\u00e4 ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 l\u00f6yt\u00e4isin sielt\u00e4\nyht\u00e4 ja toista, mist\u00e4 olisi minulle hy\u00f6ty\u00e4, mutta viel\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n\nkiihotti minua ajatus, ett\u00e4 kenties siell\u00e4 olisi viel\u00e4 joku el\u00e4v\u00e4\nolento, jonka voisin pelastaa. T\u00e4m\u00e4 ajatus vaivasi minua niin kauan,\nett\u00e4 viimein p\u00e4\u00e4tin l\u00e4hte\u00e4 yritt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n.\nHain linnasta leip\u00e4\u00e4, suuren leilin vett\u00e4, kompassin ja pullon rommia\nsek\u00e4 korillisen rusinoita. Ty\u00f6nsin veneen vesille ja laskin tavarat\nsiihen. Toisella kerralla toin pussillisen riisi\u00e4, p\u00e4iv\u00e4nvarjon,\ntoisenkin vesileilin, parikymment\u00e4 pient\u00e4 leip\u00e4\u00e4 sek\u00e4 kulhollisen\nvuohenmaitoa ja palan juustoa. Annoin itseni Herran huomaan ja l\u00e4hdin\nmelomaan rantavesi\u00e4 pitkin saaren koillisen niemen k\u00e4rkeen. Sielt\u00e4\nminun oli uskallettava ulapalle tai palattava tyhjin toimin takaisin.\nRaju merivirta kulki taas saaren kummallakin puolella. Mieleeni\nmuistui, miss\u00e4 vaarassa n\u00e4ill\u00e4 vesill\u00e4 kerran ennen olin ollut, ja\nrohkeuteni pyrki lannistumaan. Miten minulle k\u00e4visi, jos merivirta\nj\u00e4lleen tempaisi minut ja kiid\u00e4tt\u00e4isi kauas ulapalle? Jos tuuli\nhiukankaan yltyisi, olisi veneeni auttamattomasti kumossa.\nN\u00e4iden masentavien ajatusten vallassa palasin rantaan ja astuin\nmaihin. Siell\u00e4 istahdin m\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4lle miettim\u00e4\u00e4n syd\u00e4n t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 pelkoa ja\ntoivoa. Nousuvesi oli parhaillaan tulossa: en voinut siis l\u00e4hte\u00e4 viel\u00e4\nmoneen tuntiin. Nousin korkean m\u00e4en huipulle tarkastelemaan\nmerivirtain vaihtelua. Huomasin ett\u00e4 merivirta pakoveden aikana k\u00e4y\netel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja nousuveden aikana pohjoisesta. Minun olisi siis\npalatessani pysytelt\u00e4v\u00e4 pohjoisenpuoleisilla rantavesill\u00e4. P\u00e4\u00e4tin\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 liikkeelle varhain aamulla pakoveden tultua ja nukuin y\u00f6n\npurressa.\nAamulla ty\u00f6nsin veneeni vesille ja purjehdin pohjoiseen, kunnes p\u00e4\u00e4sin\nit\u00e4\u00e4np\u00e4in kulkevaan merivirtaan ja saatoin suunnata veneeni suoraan\nlaivaa kohti, jolle saavuin vajaassa kahdessa tunnissa. Surullinen\nn\u00e4ky kohtasi minua: laiva, muodosta p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en espanjalainen, oli\nt\u00f6rm\u00e4nnyt kahden kallion v\u00e4liin. Per\u00e4n ja keskiosan oli meri runnellut\nrikki, ja kurjassa kunnossa oli j\u00e4ljell\u00e4 oleva etuosakin: keski- ja\nkokkamasto olivat taittuneet. Kokka oli kuitenkin viel\u00e4 paikoillaan.\nLaivaa l\u00e4hestyess\u00e4ni ilmestyi kannelle koira haukkuen ja ulvoen.\nVihelletty\u00e4ni sille se hypp\u00e4si heti mereen ja ui luokseni. Nostin\nveneeseeni tuon n\u00e4l\u00e4st\u00e4 melkein puolikuolleen el\u00e4in paran ja annoin\nsille palasen leip\u00e4\u00e4, jonka se sy\u00f6d\u00e4 hotaisi kuin susi. Annoin sille\nraikasta vett\u00e4kin, jota se latki niin ahnaasti, ett\u00e4 olisi haljennut,\njos vain olisi saanut juoda niin paljon kuin halusi.\nNousin sitten laivaan. Ensimm\u00e4inen n\u00e4ky, mik\u00e4 minua t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 kohtasi,\noli kaksi miehen ruumista sylityksin. He olivat luultavasti\ntukehtuneet hy\u00f6kyaaltoihin, joita oli vy\u00f6rynyt laivan yli. Paitsi\nkoiraa laivalla ei ollut ainoatakaan el\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 olentoa. Suurimman osan\ntavaroistakin meri oli t\u00e4rvellyt. Ruuman pohjalla oli muutamia\nviina- ja viinitynnyreit\u00e4, mutta ne olivat liian raskaita minun\nliikutella. Oli siell\u00e4 muutamia merimiesarkkujakin, joista kaksi\nlaskin veneeseeni l\u00e4hemmin tutkimatta niitten sis\u00e4llyst\u00e4. Jos laiva\nolisi t\u00f6rm\u00e4nnyt per\u00e4 edell\u00e4 kallioihin, olisi saaliini ollut hyvin\nrunsas, sill\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4tellen siit\u00e4, mit\u00e4 my\u00f6hemmin arkusta l\u00f6ysin, oli\nsill\u00e4 ollut mukanaan sangen kallisarvoinen lasti. Suunnasta arvelin,\nett\u00e4 se oli ollut matkalla Buenos Airesista tai Rio de la Platasta\nHavannaan, Meksikon lahteen tai kukaties Espanjaankin. Mutta sen\naarteet olivat nyt meren pohjassa.\nPaitsi arkkuja l\u00f6ysin laivasta viel\u00e4 parinkymmenen gallonan vetoisen\nviinitynnyrin, jonka sain suurella vaivalla purteeni. Kajuutasta\nl\u00f6ysin muutamia musketteja, mutta koska en ollut niiden tarpeessa,\nj\u00e4tin ne sinne. Sen sijaan otin mukaani suuren ruutisarven, jossa oli\nkolme, nelj\u00e4 naulaa ruutia. Edelleen sain saaliikseni hiilikoukun ja\npihdit, varsin tervetulleita esineit\u00e4 minulle, sek\u00e4 kaksi\nmessinkipataa, kuparikattilan ja paistinvartaan.\nN\u00e4m\u00e4 tavarat ja koira purressani l\u00e4hdin nousuveden tullessa soutamaan\ntakaisin saarta kohden, jonne saavuinkin illan suussa uupuneena\nmatkasta. Sen y\u00f6n nukuin veneess\u00e4ni p\u00e4\u00e4tetty\u00e4ni aamun tultua vied\u00e4\ntavarat \u00e4sken l\u00f6yt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4ni luolaan eik\u00e4 linnaan. Her\u00e4tty\u00e4ni ja\naterioituani nostin tavarat veneest\u00e4 maihin ja rupesin tarkastamaan\nniit\u00e4. Tynnyriss\u00e4 oli rommia, mutta paljon huonompaa kuin\nbrasilialainen. Arkuista sen sijaan l\u00f6ysin joukon hy\u00f6dyllisi\u00e4\ntavaroita: niinp\u00e4 toisessa oli laatikollinen hienoja lik\u00f6\u00f6rej\u00e4, kaksi\nruukullista hedelm\u00e4s\u00e4ilykkeit\u00e4, muutamia hyvi\u00e4 paitoja -- tarpeellisia\nja tervetulleita vaatekappaleita minulle -- puolitoista tusinaa\nliinaisia nen\u00e4liinoja ja kirjavia kaulahuiveja. Arkun laatikosta\nl\u00f6ysin kolme suurta pussillista piastereita, yhteens\u00e4 toista tuhatta\nkappaletta. Yhdess\u00e4 pussissa oli paperiin k\u00e4\u00e4rittyn\u00e4 kuusi\nkultadublonia ja pieni\u00e4 kultaharkkoja, jotka painoivat yhteens\u00e4 naulan\nverran. Toisessa arkussa oli n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti laivan tykkimiehelle\nkuuluneita huonompia vaatteita. Siit\u00e4 l\u00f6ysin my\u00f6s kolme pullollista\neritt\u00e4in hienoa mets\u00e4stysruutia.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4nkertainen saaliini ei kaiken kaikkiaan ollut kovin runsas.\nRahoilla en tehnyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Ne olivat silmiss\u00e4ni yht\u00e4 arvottomia kuin\nsora jalkojeni alla. Olisin kernaasti antanut ne muutamasta parista\nenglantilaisia kenki\u00e4 tai sukkia, joita minulla ei ollut ensink\u00e4\u00e4n.\nOlin kyll\u00e4 tuonut laivalta mukanani kaksi paria kenki\u00e4, jotka olin\nriisunut ruumiitten jaloista, mutta ne muistuttivat enemm\u00e4n\ntanssikenki\u00e4 kuin kunnollisia merimiehen jalkineita. Rahat vein\nkuitenkin luolaan ja panin ne talteen omasta laivastani saamieni\nrahojen joukkoon.\nNelj\u00e4stoista luku\nHaluan p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 saaresta pois. -- Uni. -- Villej\u00e4 n\u00e4kyy t\u00e4m\u00e4npuoleisella\nrannalla. -- Unen alkupuoli toteutuu. Perjantai. -- Verraton\npalvelija.\nSaatuani kaikki tavarani hyv\u00e4\u00e4n suojapaikkaan meloin veneeni takaisin\nentiseen poukamaan ja l\u00e4ksin sitten suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 linnaani, jossa\nkaikki oli entisell\u00e4\u00e4n.\nEl\u00e4m\u00e4ni alkoi taas sujua vanhaan, tuttuun tapaansa. Entist\u00e4\nvarovaisempi vain olin, t\u00e4hystelin usein ulapalle, enk\u00e4 liikkunut\nulkona enemp\u00e4\u00e4 kuin vuohien hoitamiseksi oli v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4t\u00f6nt\u00e4. Saaren\nit\u00e4iseen p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n uskalsin kuitenkin huoleti menn\u00e4, sill\u00e4 olin varma\nsiit\u00e4, ettei villej\u00e4 sill\u00e4 rannalla k\u00e4ynyt koskaan, enk\u00e4 sinne\nmenness\u00e4ni ottanut niin paljon aseitakaan kuin muualla liikkuessani.\nN\u00e4in kului kaksi vuotta, ja koko sen ajan mietin, miten p\u00e4\u00e4sisin pois\nsaaresta. Jos minulla olisi ollut samanlainen pursi kuin se, jolla\nSal\u00e9sta karkasin, olisin aivan varmaan l\u00e4htenyt sill\u00e4 merelle\nsuunnaten kulkuni -- en itsek\u00e4\u00e4n tied\u00e4 minne. Olin n\u00e4et yh\u00e4 edelleen\nniit\u00e4, joiden helmasyntin\u00e4 on tyytym\u00e4tt\u00f6myys oloihin, joihin Sallimus\non heid\u00e4t m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4nnyt, ja jotka yh\u00e4 uutta etsien vihdoin aiheuttavat\noman turmionsa. Muutteleva mielih\u00e4n oli ajanut minut pois kotoani,\nseh\u00e4n oli pakottanut minut my\u00f6s l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n Brasiliasta, jossa nyt\nolisin saattanut olla jo suurten maatilain omistaja ja rikas mies.\nOli nelj\u00e4skolmatta vuoteni t\u00e4ss\u00e4 saaressa. Maaliskuu oli k\u00e4siss\u00e4 ja\nsadeaika oli parhaillaan. Loikoilin kerran illalla riippumatossa. Ei\nollut huolta huomisesta, terve olin my\u00f6s kaikin puolin, mutta uni ei\nvain ottanut tullakseen. Ajatuksissani k\u00e4vin l\u00e4pi koko pitk\u00e4n el\u00e4m\u00e4ni\nsiit\u00e4 l\u00e4htien, kun olin tullut saareen. Kuinka tyynt\u00e4, rauhallista ja\nhuoletonta olikaan el\u00e4m\u00e4ni ollut ensimm\u00e4isin\u00e4 vuosina ja kuinka t\u00e4ynn\u00e4\nlevottomuutta, pelkoa ja alituista varuillaan olemista siit\u00e4 saakka,\nkun olin hiekalla n\u00e4hnyt ihmisen jalanj\u00e4ljen! Aamupuolella y\u00f6t\u00e4\nvihdoin nukahdin ja n\u00e4in omituisen unen:\nOlin tapani mukaan l\u00e4htevin\u00e4ni ulos linnasta ja t\u00e4hystelevin\u00e4ni\nmerelle. Rantaan laskee kaksi kanoottia, ja yksitoista villi\u00e4 nousee\nmaihin raahaten mukanaan yht\u00e4, n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti tappaakseen ja sy\u00f6d\u00e4kseen\nh\u00e4net. Mutta \u00e4kki\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 riuhtaisee itsens\u00e4 irti heid\u00e4n k\u00e4sist\u00e4\u00e4n ja\nl\u00e4htee karkuun. Minusta h\u00e4n n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 juoksevan linnani edess\u00e4 olevaan\ntihe\u00e4\u00e4n viidakkoon. Koska kukaan ei aja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaa, min\u00e4 astun\nesille, myh\u00e4ilen h\u00e4nelle yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti ja koetan kaikin tavoin\nrohkaista h\u00e4nen mielt\u00e4\u00e4n. Silloin h\u00e4n lankeaa polvilleen, aivan kuin\npyyt\u00e4en minulta apua. N\u00e4yt\u00e4n h\u00e4nelle nuoraportaat, h\u00e4n kiipe\u00e4\u00e4 vallin\nyli, ja min\u00e4 vien h\u00e4net linnaan. Samalla juolahtaa mieleeni: Nytp\u00e4\notan t\u00e4m\u00e4n villin luotsikseni ja l\u00e4hden h\u00e4nen kanssaan mannermaalle.\nH\u00e4n kyll\u00e4 tiet\u00e4\u00e4, mist\u00e4 saa ruokavaroja ja neuvoo tien, ettemme joudu\nihmissy\u00f6jien k\u00e4siin.\nSitten her\u00e4sin. Suloiselta oli tuntunut ajatus, ett\u00e4 nyt viimeinkin\np\u00e4\u00e4sisin saarelta pois, mutta huomattuani, ett\u00e4 kaikki olikin vain\npelkk\u00e4\u00e4 unta, tuntui mieleni hyvin raskaalta.\nUneni j\u00e4lkeen selvisi minulle kuitenkin, ett\u00e4 ainoa mahdollisuus\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 saarelta pois oli saada kiinni joku villi, mieluimmin\nsellainen, joka oli toisten vankina ja oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4tty tapettavaksi.\nMutta teht\u00e4v\u00e4 oli hyvin vaikea, sill\u00e4 sit\u00e4 vartenhan minun pit\u00e4isi\nampua tai ly\u00f6d\u00e4 kuoliaaksi koko muu joukko, ja minua hirvitti\najatuskin, ett\u00e4 minun pit\u00e4isi vuodattaa niin paljon ihmisverta. Mutta\nkerran her\u00e4nnyt pelastumisen toivo voitti kaiken ep\u00e4r\u00f6imisen. P\u00e4\u00e4tin\ntaas alkaa valppaasti pit\u00e4\u00e4 silm\u00e4ll\u00e4 saaren rantoja silt\u00e4 varalta,\nett\u00e4 villej\u00e4 j\u00e4lleen laskisi maihin. Seuraavan puolentoista vuoden\naikana k\u00e4vin melkein joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 saaren l\u00e4ntisell\u00e4 ja lounaisella\nrannalla t\u00e4hystelem\u00e4ss\u00e4, mutta en n\u00e4hnyt enk\u00e4 kuullut mit\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMutta kerran aamulla s\u00e4ps\u00e4hdin n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni viiden kanootin laskevan\nmaihin minun puoleiselleni rannalle. En voinut n\u00e4hd\u00e4, kuinka monta\nmiest\u00e4 niist\u00e4 nousi maihin, mutta koska tavallisesti oli nelj\u00e4, joskus\nkuusikin miest\u00e4 veneess\u00e4, arvelin joutuvani tekemisiin kahden-, ehk\u00e4p\u00e4\nkolmenkinkymmenen rajun villin kanssa. Piilottauduin ensin luolaani\nankarassa mielenj\u00e4nnityksess\u00e4 ja koetin p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 selville siit\u00e4, mit\u00e4\nminun oli teht\u00e4v\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 tukalassa tilanteessa. Jonkin ajan kuluttua\np\u00e4\u00e4tin kuitenkin ryhty\u00e4 kaikkiin niihin puolustuskeinoihin, jotka jo\nvuosia sitten olin suunnitellut, ja k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 jokaista minulle edullista\ntilaisuutta hy\u00f6dykseni.\nPitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan ei n\u00e4kynyt eik\u00e4 kuulunut mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Vihdoin loppui\nk\u00e4rsiv\u00e4llisyyteni. Laskin molemmat pyssyni maahan, nousin tikapuita\nmy\u00f6ten vuoren huipulle, kuten ennenkin, asetuin siell\u00e4 piiloon, niin\nettei p\u00e4\u00e4ni pist\u00e4nyt n\u00e4kyviin, ja aloin kiikari k\u00e4dess\u00e4 t\u00e4hystell\u00e4.\nRannalla oli v\u00e4hint\u00e4\u00e4n kolmekymment\u00e4 villi\u00e4. Nuotio roihusi\nparhaillaan, ruokaa oli n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti keitetty -- mist\u00e4, sen kyll\u00e4\nn\u00e4kem\u00e4tt\u00e4kin tiesin -- ja hurja tanssi riehui parhaillaan nuotion\nymp\u00e4rill\u00e4.\nHetken kuluttua n\u00e4in muutamien tanssijoiden raahaavan rannalta p\u00e4in\nkahta onnetonta, arvatenkin teurastettavaksi. Toinen heist\u00e4 kaatui\npian maahan, n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti nuijan tai puisen miekan iskusta. Pari, kolme\nmiest\u00e4 k\u00e4vi heti h\u00e4nen kimppuunsa silpoen h\u00e4net palasiksi. Toinen\nraukka j\u00e4i paikoilleen odottamaan vuoroaan. Mutta tuskin h\u00e4n oli\ntuntenut olevansa siteist\u00e4 vapaa ja seisovansa erill\u00e4\u00e4n muista, kun\nh\u00e4ness\u00e4 her\u00e4si vaistomaisesti halu el\u00e4\u00e4 ja h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti juoksemaan mink\u00e4\nsuinkin jaksoi ja juuri minun asuntoani kohti.\nMinun t\u00e4ytyy tunnustaa, ett\u00e4 ensin s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdin kauheasti, varsinkin kun\nolin n\u00e4kevin\u00e4ni koko lauman l\u00e4htev\u00e4n h\u00e4nen j\u00e4ljess\u00e4\u00e4n. Nyth\u00e4n uneni\nensimm\u00e4inen osa toteutuukin, ajattelin: mies parka pakenee arvatenkin\nviidakkoon! Mutta toteutuneeko toinenkin: p\u00e4\u00e4seek\u00f6 h\u00e4n piiloon\nvainoojiensa k\u00e4sist\u00e4? Rohkeuteni alkoi v\u00e4hitellen kasvaa huomattuani,\nettei takaa-ajamassa ollut kuin kolme miest\u00e4 ja ett\u00e4 karkulainen oli\njo p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt hyv\u00e4n matkaa edelle ja joutuisi ennen heit\u00e4 viidakkoon.\nMiesten ja linnan v\u00e4lill\u00e4 oli joki, kuten olen maininnut; sen suuhun\nolin laivasta saamani tavarat nostanut maihin. Ellei karkuri p\u00e4\u00e4sisi\njoen yli, h\u00e4n joutuisi kiinni. Mutta joen rantaan saavuttuaan h\u00e4n\nheitt\u00e4ytyikin hetke\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n empim\u00e4tt\u00e4 uimaan, vaikka nousuvesi oli\nylimmill\u00e4\u00e4n. Hetken kuluttua h\u00e4n oli jo toisella rannalla ja l\u00e4hti\ntaas jatkamaan huimaa juoksuansa. Jonkin ajan kuluttua takaa-ajajatkin\nsaapuivat joen rannalle, mutta yksi heist\u00e4 ei n\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt osaavan uida,\nkoska pys\u00e4htyi toisten heitt\u00e4ydytty\u00e4 veteen. Siin\u00e4 h\u00e4n seisoi hetken\nja palasi sitten takaisin meren rantaan. Toiset kaksi uivat virran\npoikki, mutta olivat paljon huonompia uimareita kuin heid\u00e4n\ntakaa-ajamansa mies.\nNyt huomasin sen hetken ly\u00f6neen, jolloin Sallimus k\u00e4ski minun pelastaa\ntuon poloisen ja samalla salli minun saada itselleni palvelijan tai\nseuralaisen. Juoksin alas, sieppasin pyssyn tikapuiden juurelta,\nriensin j\u00e4lleen vuoren huipulle ja sielt\u00e4 oikop\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 toista rinnett\u00e4\nrannalle p\u00e4in. Pian jouduin vainoojain ja vainottavan v\u00e4liin ja huusin\nviimeksimainitulle. H\u00e4n katsahti taakseen ja n\u00e4ytti kammoavan aluksi\nminua yht\u00e4 paljon kuin vihollisiaankin. Viittasin h\u00e4nelle ja l\u00e4hestyin\nsamalla verkalleen takaa-ajajia. Heti kun ensimm\u00e4inen n\u00e4ist\u00e4 oli\njoutunut kohdalleni, hy\u00f6kk\u00e4sin h\u00e4nen kimppuunsa ja kaadoin h\u00e4net\npyssynper\u00e4ll\u00e4 maahan. En tahtonut laukaista pel\u00e4ten, ett\u00e4 pamaus\nkuuluisi rannalle, vaikka tuskinpa se niin pitk\u00e4n matkan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n olisi\nkuulunut, yht\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4n kuin savukaan olisi sinne saakka n\u00e4kynyt.\nKun toinen takaa-ajaja oli n\u00e4hnyt toverinsa kaatuvan, h\u00e4n pys\u00e4htyi\nik\u00e4\u00e4n kuin olisi s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4nyt, jolloin min\u00e4 menin l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi h\u00e4nt\u00e4.\nMutta pian huomasin h\u00e4nen viritt\u00e4v\u00e4n joustansa ja aikovan ampua nuolen\nminuun. Silloin minun ei auttanut muu kuin laukaista pyssyni. Mies\nkaatuikin heti kuolleena maahan. Vanki oli pys\u00e4htynyt, mutta vaikka\nh\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kumpaisenkin vihollisensa makaavan maassa, h\u00e4n oli kuitenkin\nniin pahanp\u00e4iv\u00e4isesti s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4nyt pamausta, ettei uskaltanut tulla\nl\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi eik\u00e4 jatkaa pakoaan. Huusin h\u00e4nelle j\u00e4lleen viitaten h\u00e4nt\u00e4\ntulemaan luokseni. H\u00e4n ymm\u00e4rsi viittaukseni ja astui muutaman askelen,\nmutta pys\u00e4htyi, kulki taas pari askelta ja seisahtui j\u00e4lleen. Mies\nparka vapisi pelosta varmana siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 joutuisi saman kohtalon\nalaiseksi kuin nuo toisetkin. Viittailin taas ja tein niin rohkaisevia\nmerkkej\u00e4 kuin suinkin osasin. V\u00e4hitellen h\u00e4n alkoi vitkastellen kulkea\nminua kohti langeten aina kymmenen tai kahdentoista askelen p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\npolvilleen, ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin kiitollisuuden osoitukseksi henkens\u00e4\npelastamisesta. Vihdoin h\u00e4n tuli aivan l\u00e4helleni, vaipui polvilleen,\nsuuteli maata ja nosti toisen jalkani p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4lle, ilmeisestikin\nmerkiksi siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tahtoi olla orjani koko ik\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nNostin h\u00e4net yl\u00f6s ja puhelin h\u00e4nelle niin yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti ja\nrohkaisevasti kuin osasin. Mutta \u00e4kki\u00e4 huomasin, ettei maahan\nkaatamani mies ollutkaan kuollut. Isku oli vain ly\u00f6nyt h\u00e4net\ntainnoksiin, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n alkoi liikahdella. Viittasin villilleni, miten\nasianlaita oli, ja silloin h\u00e4n lausui minulle muutamia outoja sanoja.\nEn ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4nyt niist\u00e4 ainoatakaan, mutta suloisesti sittenkin hiveli\nkorvaani ihmis\u00e4\u00e4ni, jollaista en ollut, omaani lukematta, kuullut\nl\u00e4hes viiteenkolmatta vuoteen.\nMutta moisiin mietelmiin ei nyt ollut aikaa, sill\u00e4 tainnoksissa ollut\nmies kohosi jo istuvilleen. Villini -- siksi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 t\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien\nnimit\u00e4n -- n\u00e4kyi j\u00e4lleen joutuvan kauhistuksen valtaan, ja silloin\nojensin toisen pyssyni ensinmainittua vihollista kohti, mutta villini\nrupesi tekem\u00e4\u00e4n minulle kiihkeit\u00e4 merkkej\u00e4, joista ymm\u00e4rsin h\u00e4nen\npyyt\u00e4v\u00e4n lainaksi vy\u00f6ll\u00e4ni riippuvaa paljasta miekkaa. Saatuansa sen\nh\u00e4n sy\u00f6ksyi vihollisensa luo ja sivalsi yhdell\u00e4 ainoalla iskulla\nh\u00e4nelt\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4n poikki.\nEniten kaikesta villi\u00e4ni kummastutti se, ett\u00e4 olin niin pitk\u00e4n matkan\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 saanut tapetuksi h\u00e4nen toisen takaa-ajajansa. Kaikenlaisin\nmerkein h\u00e4n pyysi minulta lupaa p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 katsomaan ruumista ja saikin\nmenn\u00e4. H\u00e4mm\u00e4styneen\u00e4 h\u00e4n katsoa tuijotti siihen kotvan aikaa\nk\u00e4\u00e4nnellen sit\u00e4 puolelle ja toiselle ja huomasi vihdoin rinnassa\npienen rei\u00e4n, jonka luoti oli siihen tehnyt. Vertakaan siit\u00e4 ei ollut\nsanottavasti tullut, sill\u00e4 mies oli kuollut sis\u00e4iseen verenvuotoon.\nOtettuaan sitten kaatuneen vihollisen jousen ja viinen h\u00e4n palasi\nluokseni. Min\u00e4 l\u00e4hdin palaamaan ja viittasin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 tulemaan mukaani\nkoettaen merkeill\u00e4 osoittaa, ett\u00e4 rannalta p\u00e4in tulisi kenties viel\u00e4\nmuita vihollisia. Silloin h\u00e4n puolestaan osoitti merkeill\u00e4 minulle,\nett\u00e4 tapetut pit\u00e4isi kaivaa maahan, jotta per\u00e4ss\u00e4 tulijat eiv\u00e4t niit\u00e4\nhuomaisi. Viittasin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saisi tehd\u00e4 mit\u00e4 tahtoisi, ja heti h\u00e4n\nryhtyikin toimeen: yht\u00e4kki\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli k\u00e4sill\u00e4\u00e4n kaivanut maahan kaksi\nniin suurta matalaa kuoppaa, ett\u00e4 ruumiit mahtuivat niihin, yksi\nkumpaankin, ja peitt\u00e4nyt kuopat hiekalla. Koko ty\u00f6h\u00f6n kului tuskin\nnelj\u00e4nnestuntiakaan.\nSen j\u00e4lkeen vein h\u00e4net mukaani, en linnaani vaan saaren sis\u00e4osassa\nolevaan luolaan. Sinne tultuamme annoin h\u00e4nelle leip\u00e4\u00e4 ja tertullisen\nrusinoita sek\u00e4 vett\u00e4. Kovin n\u00e4kyi mies parka jo olevankin ruoan ja\njuoman tarpeessa, eik\u00e4 ihmek\u00e4\u00e4n. Levitin sitten olkia luolan lattialle\nja niiden p\u00e4\u00e4lle vaipan ja kehoitin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 k\u00e4ym\u00e4\u00e4n levolle. Minun ei\ntarvinnut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kahta kertaa k\u00e4ske\u00e4: ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli vaipunut\nsike\u00e4\u00e4n uneen.\nH\u00e4n oli solakka, siro nuori mies, i\u00e4lt\u00e4\u00e4n noin kuusikolmatta, j\u00e4senet\nlujat ja sopusuhtaiset. Kasvonpiirteiss\u00e4 oli jotain miehek\u00e4st\u00e4 ja\nsamalla miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4, eurooppalaista, varsinkin h\u00e4nen hymyilless\u00e4\u00e4n.\nTukka oli pitk\u00e4 ja musta, ei k\u00e4h\u00e4r\u00e4villainen, otsa korkea ja leve\u00e4,\nsilm\u00e4t kirkkaat ja vilkkaat. Ihon v\u00e4ri ei ollut pikimusta eik\u00e4\nvaaleanruskeakaan, niin kuin Brasilian ja Virginian alkuasukkailla,\nvaan kauniin oliivinruskea. Kasvot olivat py\u00f6re\u00e4t ja pulleat, nen\u00e4\npieni, ei kuitenkaan litte\u00e4 kuin neekereill\u00e4, huulet ohuet ja hampaat\nvalkoiset kuin norsunluu.\nTuskin oli kulunut puolta tuntiakaan, kun h\u00e4n oli jo j\u00e4lleen pystyss\u00e4\nja tuli ulos juuri palatessani vuohia lyps\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4. Takatarhanihan, niin\nkuin lukija muistanee, oli t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4. Minut n\u00e4hty\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n riensi luokseni,\nheitt\u00e4ytyi maahan eteeni ja pani taas toisen jalkani p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4lle,\nt\u00e4ten ja monin muin omituisin merkein osoittaen, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tahtoi olla\nelinkautinen orjani. Min\u00e4 puolestani n\u00e4ytin merkeill\u00e4 olevani varsin\nmieliss\u00e4ni siit\u00e4.\nJonkin ajan kuluttua aloin puhua h\u00e4nelle ja opettaa h\u00e4nelle omaa\nkielt\u00e4ni. Ensi ty\u00f6kseni ilmoitin h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 on oleva\n_Perjantai_. T\u00e4m\u00e4n nimen annoin h\u00e4nelle sen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n muistoksi, jolloin\npelastin h\u00e4nen henkens\u00e4. Edelleen opetin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 sanomaan minua\n_masteriksi_. [Master merkitsee: is\u00e4nt\u00e4, herra.] Ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4n oppi\nmy\u00f6s sanomaan \"kyll\u00e4\" ja \"ei\".\nAnnoin h\u00e4nelle saviruukullisen maitoa ja palan leip\u00e4\u00e4 ja n\u00e4ytin\nsitten, miten kastelin leip\u00e4\u00e4ni maitoon. H\u00e4n oppi heti tekem\u00e4\u00e4n samoin\nja n\u00e4ytti pit\u00e4v\u00e4n t\u00e4llaista ruokaa varsin maukkaana. Nukuimme y\u00f6n\nluolassa. Aamulla kutsuin h\u00e4net luokseni ja osoitin merkeill\u00e4 aikovani\nantaa h\u00e4nelle vaatteita, ja siit\u00e4k\u00f6s h\u00e4n tuli iloiseksi, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nell\u00e4\nei ollut vaateriepuakaan yll\u00e4\u00e4n.\nKulkiessamme sen paikan ohi, johon h\u00e4n oli k\u00e4tkenyt eiliset kuolleet\nvihollisensa, h\u00e4n viittasi k\u00e4dell\u00e4\u00e4n hautoihin ja ilmoitti merkeill\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n pit\u00e4isi kaivaa viholliset maasta ja keitt\u00e4\u00e4 niist\u00e4 ruokaa.\nOsoitin kauhistustani ja syv\u00e4\u00e4 suuttumustani moisesta ehdotuksesta ja\nn\u00e4ytin h\u00e4nelle, kuinka jo pelkk\u00e4 ajatuskin siit\u00e4 tuntui minusta\ninhottavalta. Viittasin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vain tulemaan j\u00e4ljess\u00e4ni, ja n\u00f6yr\u00e4sti\nh\u00e4n heti tottelikin. Nousimme sitten vuorenhuipulle katsomaan, oliko\nvillej\u00e4 viel\u00e4 rannalla. Kiikarillani n\u00e4in selv\u00e4sti sen paikan, miss\u00e4\nhe olivat eilen mellastaneet, mutta heit\u00e4 itse\u00e4\u00e4n enemp\u00e4\u00e4 kuin heid\u00e4n\nkanoottejansakaan ei n\u00e4kynyt miss\u00e4\u00e4n. He olivat l\u00e4hteneet tiehens\u00e4\nkahdesta kumppanistaan v\u00e4litt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4.\nEn tyytynyt viel\u00e4 siihen. Nyt olin entist\u00e4 rohkeampi, ja siksi\nuteliaisuutenikin oli kasvanut. Otin Perjantain mukaani annettuani\nh\u00e4nelle miekan ja pyssyn kannettavaksi ja k\u00e4sketty\u00e4ni h\u00e4nt\u00e4 heitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\nselk\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 viinen ja jousen, jota h\u00e4n n\u00e4kyi osaavan k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 hyvin\ntaitavasti. Itse otin kaksi pyssy\u00e4 ja niin l\u00e4hdimme rantaan. Veri oli\nhyyty\u00e4 suonissani ja syd\u00e4n pakahtua rinnassani katsellessani kauheata\nn\u00e4ky\u00e4. Perjantai ei ollut tiet\u00e4\u00e4kseenk\u00e4\u00e4n. Veren tahraama maa nuotion\nymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 oli ihmisluita t\u00e4ynn\u00e4\u00e4n, suuria lihakimpaleita oli hujan\nhajan, puoleksi sy\u00f6tyj\u00e4, rikkiraastettuja, k\u00e4ristettyj\u00e4, sanalla\nsanoen: kaikkialla oli j\u00e4lki\u00e4 riemuateriasta, jolla oli juhlittu\nvihollisesta saatua voittoa. Perjantai ilmoitti minulle\nmerkkikielell\u00e4, ett\u00e4 villit olivat eilen tuoneet rantaan nelj\u00e4\nsotavankia, joista kolme oli nyt sy\u00f6ty. H\u00e4n itse oli ollut nelj\u00e4s.\nSit\u00e4 ennen oli k\u00e4yty ankaraa sotaa heid\u00e4n ja naapuriheimon v\u00e4lill\u00e4.\nHeit\u00e4 oli joutunut vangiksi melkoinen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4, joka sitten oli jaettu\nuseihin ryhmiin voittajien kesken. Sy\u00f6t\u00e4viksi he olivat joutuneet joka\nmies.\nK\u00e4skin Perjantain koota yhteen kasaan kaikki p\u00e4\u00e4kallot, luut ja muut\nj\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6kset, rakentaa kasan p\u00e4\u00e4lle ison nuotion ja polttaa kaikki\nporoksi. Kovin n\u00e4kyiv\u00e4t muutamat palat olevan mieleisi\u00e4 Perjantaille,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4nh\u00e4n oli viel\u00e4 luonnostaan ihmissy\u00f6j\u00e4, mutta huomatessaan\nminun kasvoillani inhon ja kauhistuksen, h\u00e4n ei uskaltanut v\u00e4itt\u00e4\u00e4\nvastaan.\nSitten l\u00e4hdimme linnaan, jossa aloin etsi\u00e4 pukua Perjantaille. Ensiksi\nannoin h\u00e4nelle merimiesarkusta l\u00f6yt\u00e4m\u00e4ni housut, jotka hiukan\nkorjattuina sopivat h\u00e4nelle hyvin. Sitten laitoin h\u00e4nelle\nvuohennahasta takin. (Minusta olikin ajan mittaan kehittynyt taitava\nr\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4li.) P\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n tein h\u00e4nelle j\u00e4niksennahasta mukavan lakin. N\u00e4in oli\npojalla nyt t\u00e4ydet tamineet, ja mieliss\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n olikin saatuaan\nsamanlaisen puvun kuin masterillakin oli. K\u00f6mpel\u00f6sti h\u00e4n kyll\u00e4 ensin\nliikkui uudessa puvussaan. Housut varsinkin n\u00e4kyiv\u00e4t tekev\u00e4n suurta\nhaittaa, takin liepeet olivat aina tiell\u00e4 ja kainaloista se puristi\naika lailla, mutta ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4n tottui t\u00e4ysin uusiin\nvaatteisiinsa. Seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 aloin mietti\u00e4, mist\u00e4 saisin sopivan\ny\u00f6sijan Perjantaille, niin ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n kumpaisenkin olisi mukava.\nRakensin h\u00e4nelle vihdoin teltan linnoitukseni kahden vallin v\u00e4liin.\nLuolan aukon suuhun pystytin ovipielet ja laitoin niiden v\u00e4liin oikean\nlautaoven, jonka saattoi p\u00f6nkitt\u00e4\u00e4 sis\u00e4puolelta. Kaikki aseet otin\ny\u00f6ksi luolaan. Turhia varokeinoja kaikki nuo olivat, sill\u00e4 kenell\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nei ole koskaan ollut uskollisempaa ja vakavampaa palvelijaa kuin\nPerjantai. Rauhallinen h\u00e4n oli, ei vihoitellut milloinkaan, oli aina\nn\u00f6yr\u00e4 ja kuuliainen. H\u00e4n oli kiintynyt minuun kuin lapsi is\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja\nolisi -- sen uskallan sanoa -- uhrannut oman henkens\u00e4kin minut\npelastaakseen, jos niikseen olisi tullut.\nViidestoista luku\nPerjantai tottuu uusiin tapoihin. -- Ensimm\u00e4iset kristinopin alkeet.\n-- Perjantain kotimaassa valkoisia haaksirikkoisia. -- Koti-ik\u00e4v\u00e4.\nSeuralaisestani olin hyvin mieliss\u00e4ni ja p\u00e4\u00e4tin totuttaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkaikenlaisiin hy\u00f6dyllisiin askareisiin, ennen kaikkea opettaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nymm\u00e4rt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ja v\u00e4h\u00e4n puhumaankin englanninkielt\u00e4. Lieneek\u00f6 kenell\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nkoskaan ollut niin ahkeraa ja tarkkaavaista oppilasta kuin Perjantai?\nH\u00e4n oli iloinen, milloin ymm\u00e4rsi sanani tai sai senkin verran\nsanotuksi, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 h\u00e4net ymm\u00e4rsin. El\u00e4m\u00e4 alkoi pian olla niin\nhauskaa, ett\u00e4 ellei minun olisi tarvinnut yh\u00e4 pel\u00e4t\u00e4 muita villej\u00e4,\nolisin tahtonut asua t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 edelleenkin.\nPerjantai oli ensinn\u00e4kin saatava vieraantumaan entisist\u00e4\nihmissy\u00f6j\u00e4ntavoista ja totutettava k\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ruoakseen muuta lihaa.\nSiksi otin h\u00e4net parin, kolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua mukaani karjatarhaani\nhakeakseni sielt\u00e4 vuohen, jonka aioimme teurastaa ja valmistaa\nruoaksi. Matkalla sinne huomasin kaukana er\u00e4\u00e4n puun juurella\nmets\u00e4vuohen ja sen vieress\u00e4 kaksi kili\u00e4. K\u00e4skin nyt Perjantain olemaan\naivan hiljaa ja liikahtamatta, ojensin pyssyni ja laukaisin. Luoti\ntappoi toisen kilin. Perjantai parka oli niin suunniltaan\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksest\u00e4, ett\u00e4 luulin h\u00e4nen py\u00f6rtyv\u00e4n siihen paikkaan. H\u00e4n ei\nollut n\u00e4hnyt el\u00e4imi\u00e4 eik\u00e4 laukauksen tulostakaan. H\u00e4n rep\u00e4isi takkinsa\nauki ja alkoi koetella, mist\u00e4 kohdin h\u00e4n muka oli haavoittunut.\nLuullen minun aikoneen tappaa h\u00e4net poika parka loikkasi luokseni,\nlankesi maahan ja syleillen polviani puhua paapatti minulle jotakin.\nH\u00e4nen sanojaan en ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4nyt, mutta selv\u00e4sti k\u00e4sitin h\u00e4nen rukoilevan,\netten vain surmaisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4.\nTartuin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti k\u00e4teen, n\u00e4ytin sit\u00e4 paikkaa, mihin kili\noli j\u00e4\u00e4nyt, ja k\u00e4skin h\u00e4nen noutaa sen. H\u00e4n totteli, ja siin\u00e4k\u00f6 oli\nihmettelemist\u00e4, miss\u00e4 kohden kiliss\u00e4 oli kuolettava haava. Sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin\nmin\u00e4 h\u00e4nen huomaamattaan latasin pyssyni uudestaan.\nJonkin ajan kuluttua n\u00e4in suurehkon haukkaa muistuttavan linnun\nistuvan korkean puun latvassa. Kutsuin luokseni Perjantain, osoitin\nh\u00e4nelle linnun, viittasin sitten pyssyyni ja maahan osoittaakseni,\nett\u00e4 nyt tuo lintu putoaa puusta. K\u00e4skin h\u00e4nen sitten pit\u00e4\u00e4 lintua\nsilm\u00e4ll\u00e4, t\u00e4ht\u00e4sin ja laukaisin. Perjantai n\u00e4ki linnun samassa\nsilm\u00e4nr\u00e4p\u00e4yksess\u00e4 putoavan puusta. H\u00e4n oli yht\u00e4 kauhistunut kuin\nedellisell\u00e4kin kerralla, paljon enemm\u00e4nkin, kun h\u00e4n ei ollut n\u00e4hnyt\nminun panevan pyssyyni mit\u00e4\u00e4n. H\u00e4n ajatteli varmaankin, ett\u00e4 mahtoi\ntuossa kapineessa olla merkillinen kuoleman ja h\u00e4vityksen taika, koska\nse tappoi ihmisi\u00e4 ja el\u00e4imi\u00e4 l\u00e4helt\u00e4 ja kaukaa. Ellei h\u00e4n pian olisi\np\u00e4\u00e4ssyt asiasta perille, h\u00e4n olisi varmaankin ruvennut jumalinaan\nkumartamaan niin pyssy\u00e4 kuin minuakin. Pyssyyn h\u00e4n ei uskaltanut\nkajota viel\u00e4 pariin p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n, vaan puheli sille my\u00f6t\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 jotakin\nomalla kielell\u00e4\u00e4n. My\u00f6hemmin vasta sain tiet\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen pyyt\u00e4neen\npyssylt\u00e4, ettei se tappaisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4. Vasta muutaman p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua h\u00e4n\noppi tuntemaan aseen salaisuuden.\nKaritsan kannoimme kotiin. Nyljetty\u00e4ni sen paistoin siit\u00e4 muutamia\npaloja ja keitin lient\u00e4 toisista. Perjantaista tuntui t\u00e4m\u00e4 ruoka\nolevan sangen maukasta, mutta kovin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kummastutti se, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4\nk\u00e4ytin suolaa ruoassa. H\u00e4n pisti muutaman suolarakeen suuhunsa, mutta\nsilloinkos mies parka alkoi irvistell\u00e4 ja syljeskell\u00e4. Vedell\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\noli huuhdeltava suunsa, ennen kuin sai pois katkeran maun. Min\u00e4\npuolestani n\u00e4ytin h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 jos pist\u00e4n suolattoman palan suuhuni,\nniin se panee minut paikalla irvist\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ja syljeksim\u00e4\u00e4n. Vasta\npitkien aikojen kuluttua h\u00e4n tottui k\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n suolaa, mutta\nsilloinkin hyvin niukalti.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 annoin Perjantain maistaa vartaassa paistettua\nvuohenlihaa, ja se oli h\u00e4nest\u00e4 niin hyv\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n rupesi taas\nvilkkaasti puhumaan. Ymm\u00e4rsin vihdoin h\u00e4nen koettavan tehd\u00e4 minulle\nselv\u00e4ksi, ettei h\u00e4n en\u00e4\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 aio sy\u00f6d\u00e4 ihmisenlihaa. Ja siit\u00e4 olin\niloinen.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 panin h\u00e4net survomaan jyvi\u00e4 ja seulomaan jauhoja.\nH\u00e4n tottuikin tuohon ty\u00f6h\u00f6n sangen pian, varsinkin kun huomasi, kuinka\nniist\u00e4 sitten paistetaan leip\u00e4\u00e4. Jonkin ajan kuluttua h\u00e4n osasi\nsuorittaa n\u00e4m\u00e4 ty\u00f6t omin p\u00e4ins\u00e4 yht\u00e4 hyvin kuin min\u00e4kin.\nKoska minulla nyt oli talossani yksi suu enemm\u00e4n kuin ennen, t\u00e4ytyi\nruveta laajentamaan viljankin viljelyst\u00e4. Siksi m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4sin pelloksi\nsuurenpuoleisen alan ja rupesin sit\u00e4 aitaamaan niin kuin entisi\u00e4kin.\nPerjantai auttoi minua uskollisesti t\u00e4ss\u00e4 ty\u00f6ss\u00e4 ja kuultuaan\ntarkoituksena olevan t\u00e4ten hankkia enemm\u00e4n leip\u00e4varoja, koska on\nenemm\u00e4n sy\u00f6ji\u00e4kin, h\u00e4n sanoi k\u00e4sitt\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 juuri h\u00e4nen\nt\u00e4htens\u00e4 saan entist\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n ty\u00f6t\u00e4, ja lupasi ponnistella puolestaan\nvoimiensa mukaan, jos vain h\u00e4nelle neuvotaan, mit\u00e4 milloinkin piti\ntehd\u00e4.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 vuosi oli miellytt\u00e4vin kaikista, mitk\u00e4 saaressa olin viett\u00e4nyt.\nPerjantai osasi jo v\u00e4h\u00e4n puhua kielt\u00e4ni, tunsi nimelt\u00e4 melkein kaikki\nesineet, mit\u00e4 n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4 oli, osasi menn\u00e4 minne milloinkin k\u00e4skettiin.\nJa paljon kertomista h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli kaikesta. Nyt omallakin puheellani\noli k\u00e4yt\u00e4nn\u00f6llist\u00e4 merkityst\u00e4, jota sill\u00e4 ei ollut ollut moneen\npitk\u00e4\u00e4n vuoteen. Paitsi sit\u00e4 hauskuutta, mik\u00e4 minulla oli\njuttelemisesta Perjantain kanssa, h\u00e4n miellytti minua muutenkin\nihmisen\u00e4: p\u00e4iv\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4lt\u00e4 huomasin yh\u00e4 paremmin, kuinka vilpit\u00f6n ja\nuskollinen h\u00e4n oli, ja siksi h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi minulle p\u00e4iv\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4lt\u00e4\nrakkaammaksi. Toisaalta taas luulen h\u00e4nenkin kiintyneen minuun\nuskollisella rakkaudella.\nKoetin kerran ottaa selville, viel\u00e4k\u00f6 h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli ik\u00e4v\u00e4 omaa maataan.\nH\u00e4n osasi siihen aikaan v\u00e4ltt\u00e4v\u00e4sti englantia. Kys\u00e4isin h\u00e4nelt\u00e4, oliko\nh\u00e4nen kansansa joskus voittanut sodassa. Ja n\u00e4in muodostui seuraava\nkeskustelu:\n_Perjantai_. Niin, niin! Minun kansa on hyvempi tappelemaan.\n_Master_. Vai on sinun kansasi taitavampi taistelemaan! Mitenk\u00e4 sin\u00e4\nsitten vangiksi jouduit, Perjantai?\n_Perjantai_. Minun kansa hakkaa kaikki maha (maahan).\n_Master_. Mutta jos sinun kansasi ly\u00f6 vihollisen maahan, mitenk\u00e4s sin\u00e4\nsitten jouduit kiinni?\n_Perjantai_. Paha v\u00e4ki oli enempi kuin Perjantain v\u00e4ki. Ja ne ottaa\nyks, kaks, kolme ja Perjantai, mut minun kansa voittaa se paha v\u00e4ki\ntoinen paikka, miss\u00e4 min\u00e4 ei; siell\u00e4 minun kansa ottaa yks, kaks, ja\nmonta tuhat.\n_Master_. Mutta miksi eiv\u00e4t teid\u00e4n miehet pelastaneet teit\u00e4 vihollisen\nk\u00e4sist\u00e4?\n_Perjantai_. Paha v\u00e4ki juoksee ja ottaa mukaan yks, kaks, kolme ja\nPerjantai ja pist\u00e4\u00e4 kanootti, mut minun kansa ei kanootti silloin.\n_Master_. No niin Perjantai, mutta mit\u00e4 sinun kansasi teki niin\nmonella vangilla? Sy\u00f6v\u00e4tk\u00f6 ne vankinsa niinkuin n\u00e4m\u00e4 toisetkin?\n_Perjantai_. Jaa-a. Minun kansa sy\u00f6 ja; sy\u00f6 kaikki loppu.\n_Master_. Minnek\u00e4s ne heid\u00e4t viev\u00e4t?\n_Perjantai_. Toinen paikka, minne vaan mieli tekee.\n_Master_. K\u00e4yv\u00e4tk\u00f6 he t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4kin?\n_Perjantai_. Kyll\u00e4, kyll\u00e4! T\u00e4m\u00e4 paikka ja toinen paikka ja.\n_Master_. Oletkos sin\u00e4kin k\u00e4ynyt t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 heid\u00e4n kanssaan?\n_Perjantai_. Kyll\u00e4, tuolla noin.\nT\u00e4ten sain tiet\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Perjantai oli aikaisemmin ollut niitten\nvillien mukana, joilla oli ollut tapana k\u00e4yd\u00e4 saaren kaukaisimmassa\np\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4. Ja k\u00e4ydess\u00e4ni kerran h\u00e4nen kanssaan sill\u00e4 rannalla h\u00e4n tunsi\npaikan hyvin ja tiesi kertoa heid\u00e4n silloin pit\u00e4neen siell\u00e4 julmia\njuhla-aterioitaan.\nOlen kertonut t\u00e4m\u00e4n keskustelun siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4, ett\u00e4 se antoi aihetta\nseuraavaan.\nKysyin h\u00e4nelt\u00e4, kuinka pitk\u00e4 matka lienee t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 heid\u00e4n rantaansa ja\neik\u00f6 paljon kanootteja huku merell\u00e4. H\u00e4n vastasi, ettei siit\u00e4 ole\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n pelkoa: kanootteja ei ole siell\u00e4 milloinkaan hukkunut, sill\u00e4\nulompana merell\u00e4 k\u00e4y aina sama virta ja sama tuuli, aamulla yhteen\nsuuntaan, illalla toiseen. Ensin luulin sit\u00e4 vain nousu- ja pakoveden\nliikkeiksi, mutta my\u00f6hemmin huomasin virtojen johtuvan mahtavasta\nOrinoco-joesta. Minulle selvisi, ettei saareni ollut kovinkaan kaukana\nsen suusta, ja l\u00e4nnest\u00e4 tai luoteesta t\u00e4nne siint\u00e4v\u00e4 maa oli suuri\nTrinidadin saari, joka on vastap\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 Orinocon suuta. Tiedustelin\nsitten Perjantailta tarkoin, millainen maa se on, millaisia sen\nasukkaat, mink\u00e4lainen ranta ja mink\u00e4muotoisia meren virrat ja tuulet.\nKysytty\u00e4ni mink\u00e4nimisi\u00e4 kansoja siell\u00e4 asuu, h\u00e4n ei osannut mainita\nmuuta kuin karibit. Kartoissamme on n\u00e4iden asuttamaksi alueeksi\nmerkitty Etel\u00e4-Amerikan rannikko Orinocon suulta Guyanaan ja St.\nMarthaan saakka.\nH\u00e4n kertoi my\u00f6s, ett\u00e4 kaukana kuun toisella puolen -- se tarkoittaa\nl\u00e4ntist\u00e4 ilmansuuntaa, minne kuu laskee -- asuu valkoisia, partasuita\nmiehi\u00e4, samanlaisia kuin min\u00e4kin, ja ett\u00e4 he ovat surmanneet paljon\nihmisi\u00e4. Ymm\u00e4rsin n\u00e4iden olevan espanjalaisia, joitten julmuus oli\ntunnettu koko maanosassa. Siit\u00e4 kulki siell\u00e4 kauheita kertomuksia\npolvesta polveen, suvusta sukuun.\nKyselin taas, mill\u00e4 keinoin h\u00e4n luulisi minun p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4n saaresta noiden\nvalkoisten miesten luokse.\n-- Kyll\u00e4, kyll\u00e4! h\u00e4n vastasi -- Se p\u00e4\u00e4see sinne kaks kanootti. En\npitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan voinut ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4\u00e4, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n tarkoitti noilla kahdella\nkanootilla, kunnes viimein monen kyselyn per\u00e4st\u00e4 sain selville h\u00e4nen\ntarkoittavan kahden tavallisen kanootin suuruista venett\u00e4.\nKeskusteluni Perjantain kanssa oli minulle sangen mieluisa, sill\u00e4 se\nher\u00e4tti minussa j\u00e4lleen toiveita. Ennemmin tai my\u00f6hemmin, ajattelin\nitsekseni, ilmaantunee minulle tilaisuus p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pois saaresta.\nPerjantain yh\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n kehitytty\u00e4 ja opittua ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ja puhumaan\nkielt\u00e4ni aloin opettaa h\u00e4nelle uskonopin alkeita. Kerran kys\u00e4isin\nh\u00e4nelt\u00e4, tiet\u00e4\u00e4k\u00f6 h\u00e4n, kuka h\u00e4net on luonut. Poika parka ei n\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt\nlainkaan tajuavan minua, luuli minun kysyneen, mik\u00e4 mies h\u00e4nen is\u00e4ns\u00e4\noli. Koetin kysy\u00e4 toisella tavalla: kuka on luonut meren ja maan,\njossa asumme, vuoret ja mets\u00e4t? H\u00e4n vastasi, ett\u00e4 sen on tehnyt\nBenamukke, joka asuu \"tuolla toisella puolella\". H\u00e4n ei osannut sen\nenemp\u00e4\u00e4 kertoa h\u00e4nest\u00e4; tiesi vain, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n on paljon vanhempi kuin\nmeri ja maa, kuu ja t\u00e4hdet.\n-- No niin, jatkoin min\u00e4, -- koska nyt tuo vanha olento on kaikki\ntehnyt, miksi eiv\u00e4t kaikki sitten palvele ja kumarra h\u00e4nt\u00e4?\n-- Kyll\u00e4! h\u00e4n vastasi vakavasti luoden minuun vilpitt\u00f6m\u00e4n katseen. --\nKaikkihan sanoo h\u00e4nelle: Oo!\n-- Kun teill\u00e4 ihminen kuolee, niin minne h\u00e4n joutuu vai joutuuko\nminnek\u00e4\u00e4n?\n-- Kyll\u00e4! Ne tulee kaikki Benamukke luo.\n-- Ent\u00e4s ne, jotka on sy\u00f6ty?\n-- Ne ja!\nSiit\u00e4 l\u00e4htien aloin opettaa h\u00e4nelle el\u00e4v\u00e4n Jumalan tuntemista. Selitin\nh\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 kaiken maailman Luoja asuu taivaassa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nedelleenkin hallitsee maailmaa voimallansa. H\u00e4n on kaikkivaltias:\nkaiken h\u00e4n voi meid\u00e4n edest\u00e4mme tehd\u00e4, kaiken meille antaa, mutta\nkaiken h\u00e4n voi meilt\u00e4 ottaa poiskin. H\u00e4n kuunteli minua tarkkaan\niloiten suuresti, kun kerroin h\u00e4nelle Vapahtajasta, joka on tullut\nmeit\u00e4 pelastamaan. Edelleen selitin h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 saamme rukoilla\nJumalaa ja ett\u00e4 Jumala kuulee meit\u00e4, vaikka asuukin taivaassa.\nKerran h\u00e4n sanoi minulle, ett\u00e4 jos meid\u00e4n Jumalamme saattaa kuulla\nmeit\u00e4 auringon toiselle puolelle asti, niin kyll\u00e4 h\u00e4n varmasti on\nsuurempi Benamukkea, joka ei asu kuin v\u00e4h\u00e4n matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 heist\u00e4,\nkorkeitten vuorten takana, eik\u00e4 sittenk\u00e4\u00e4n kuule heit\u00e4, ellei nousta\nvuorille h\u00e4nt\u00e4 puhuttelemaan.\n-- Oletko sin\u00e4kin k\u00e4ynyt siell\u00e4 puhumassa h\u00e4nen kanssaan?\n-- Ei! vastasi h\u00e4n. -- Ei sinne koskaan p\u00e4\u00e4se nuori mies, vanha vaan,\nne _uvukake_.\nSen verran sain selville, ett\u00e4 heill\u00e4kin on omat erityiset pappinsa,\njotka k\u00e4yv\u00e4t vuorilla, sanovat Benamukelle: \"Oo!\" (sellainen on heill\u00e4\nrukous) ja sielt\u00e4 tulevat alas ilmoittamaan kansalle, mit\u00e4 Benamukke\non sanonut.\nOnnellisia olivat n\u00e4m\u00e4 keskustelut Perjantain kanssa. Meill\u00e4 ei ollut\nmuuta oppikirjaa kuin Raamattu, mutta kun se on niin verrattoman\nyksinkertainen ja selv\u00e4, ett\u00e4 lapsikin ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4\u00e4, niin t\u00e4st\u00e4\nopetuksesta oli seurauksena, ettei ainoastaan t\u00e4m\u00e4 pakana p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt\niankaikkisen totuuden tuntoon, vaan min\u00e4 itsekin imin siit\u00e4 yh\u00e4\nenemm\u00e4n voimaa. Kuinka kiitollinen olinkaan Jumalalle, joka oli\nl\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt t\u00e4m\u00e4n pakanan minulle opastettavakseni ja opastajakseni\nsamalla! Kolmen vuoden kuluttua oli Perjantaista tullut harras\nkristitty, parempikin kristitty kuin min\u00e4 olin.\nMutta palaanpa taas kertomukseeni.\nOpetuksen ja tarpeellisten t\u00f6itten lomassa kerroin Perjantaille\nv\u00e4hitellen el\u00e4m\u00e4ntarinani, ainakin siit\u00e4 saakka kun olin t\u00e4h\u00e4n saareen\ntullut. Annoin h\u00e4nelle tarpeenmukaiset selitykset ampuma-aseista,\nruudista ja luodeista ja opetin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ampumaan. Annoin h\u00e4nelle puukon,\njosta h\u00e4n oli hyvin mieliss\u00e4\u00e4n, ja laitoin h\u00e4nelle vy\u00f6n ja siihen\nsolmun, jossa h\u00e4n sai kantaa kirvest\u00e4. Se oli samalla sek\u00e4 aseena ett\u00e4\nty\u00f6kaluna. Kerroin h\u00e4nelle Euroopasta, varsinkin Englannista, siit\u00e4\nmiten siell\u00e4 elet\u00e4\u00e4n ja palvellaan Jumalaa, miten ihmiset siell\u00e4\nseurustelevat ja sielt\u00e4 k\u00e4sin purjehtivat laivoilla kaikkiin maailman\n\u00e4\u00e4riin. N\u00e4ytin h\u00e4nelle paikan, miss\u00e4 laivani oli joutunut\nhaaksirikkoon, ja vein h\u00e4net katsomaan venett\u00e4, jonka aallot olivat\nheitt\u00e4neet rannalle ja joka nyt oli jo kokonaan rappeutunut. Veneen\nn\u00e4hty\u00e4\u00e4n Perjantai k\u00e4vi vakavan n\u00e4k\u00f6iseksi eik\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan\nvirkkanut mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Kun kysyin, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n mietiskeli, h\u00e4n vastasi:\n-- Se vene on tule meid\u00e4n ranta.\nL\u00e4hemmin tiedusteltuani sain kuulla samanlaisen veneen kerran\najautuneen rantaan siin\u00e4 maassa, miss\u00e4 h\u00e4n asui. Otaksuin jonkin\neurooppalaisen laivan joutuneen siell\u00e4 haaksirikkoon ja veneen\najautuneen rantaan, mutta olin niin tyhm\u00e4, etten tullut lainkaan\nkysyneeksi, oliko kenties ihmisi\u00e4kin ajautunut veneess\u00e4 rannalle ja\nmist\u00e4 p\u00e4in he olivat. Koetin vain saada selville, mink\u00e4 muotoinen vene\noli.\nPerjantai antoi siit\u00e4 sangen tarkan kuvauksen ja lis\u00e4si sitten\ninnokkaasti:\n-- Ja me pelastaa valkea mies hukkumasta.\nNyt vasta johtui mieleeni kys\u00e4ist\u00e4, oliko veneess\u00e4 ollut valkoisia\nmiehi\u00e4.\n-- Kyll\u00e4, vakuutti h\u00e4n, -- vene t\u00e4ys valkea mies.\n-- Kuinka monta heit\u00e4 oli?\nH\u00e4n n\u00e4ytti sormillaan: seitsem\u00e4ntoista.\n-- Minne he ovat joutuneet?\n-- He el\u00e4\u00e4 ja asuu minun kansan luo.\nMin\u00e4 miettim\u00e4\u00e4n. Varmaankin he olivat siit\u00e4 laivasta, joka joutui\nhaaksirikkoon saareni l\u00e4hell\u00e4. Laivan jouduttua karille he astuivat\nvarmaankin veneeseens\u00e4 ja ajautuivat rantaan villien maahan.\nTiedusteltuani tarkemmin haaksirikkoisten kohtaloa Perjantai kertoi\nheid\u00e4n asuneen siell\u00e4 jo nelj\u00e4 vuotta. Villit eiv\u00e4t tehneet heille\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n pahaa, hankkivatpa ruokavarojakin heille.\n-- Miksi ei sinun kansasi tappanut heit\u00e4 ja sy\u00f6nyt?\n-- Ei! He tule veli valkean miehen kans.\nMin\u00e4 arvasin villien ja valkoisten miesten solmineen yst\u00e4vyysliiton\nkesken\u00e4\u00e4n.\n-- Niin, lis\u00e4si Perjantai, -- ne ei sy\u00f6 kuin ne kun tappelee ja\nvoittaa.\nToisin sanoen: eiv\u00e4t sy\u00f6 muita kuin sotavankejaan.\nPari p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n keskustelun j\u00e4lkeen menin Perjantain kanssa sille\nvuorelle saaren it\u00e4isess\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4, mist\u00e4 kerran, niin kuin edell\u00e4 olen\nkertonut, selke\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 olin n\u00e4hnyt kaukaisen maan. Ilma oli nytkin\neritt\u00e4in kirkas. Perjantai katseli hetken aikaa kaukaista rantaa,\nmutta \u00e4kki\u00e4 h\u00e4n rupesi hyppim\u00e4\u00e4n ja tanssimaan ja huusi minua\nluokseen.\n-- Mit\u00e4 nyt? kys\u00e4isin min\u00e4.\n-- Voi ilo! huudahteli h\u00e4n. -- Voi ilo ja riemu! Tuolla minun maa,\ntuolla minun kansa!\nSanomaton mielihyv\u00e4 loisti h\u00e4nen kasvoillaan, silm\u00e4t s\u00e4ihkyiv\u00e4t, koko\nh\u00e4nen olemuksensa n\u00e4ytti hehkuvan halusta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 takaisin h\u00e4nen oman\nkansansa luo. Tuo kiihke\u00e4 ilo her\u00e4tti minussa ensi hetken\u00e4 sangen\nmasentavia ajatuksia. Jos Perjantain todellakin onnistuisi p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\nomaan maahansa, niin eik\u00f6 olisi luultavaa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n unohtaisi\nuskontonsa ja kiintymyksens\u00e4 minuun. H\u00e4n kertoisi heille t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nsaaressa olevasta valkoisesta miehest\u00e4; heit\u00e4 saapuisi t\u00e4nne satakunta\nmiest\u00e4, ehk\u00e4p\u00e4 parikin sataa. Ja kuinka k\u00e4visi minun silloin?\nSain my\u00f6hemmin todeta, kuinka paljon v\u00e4\u00e4ryytt\u00e4 tein ajatuksissani\ntuolle kiitolliselle yst\u00e4v\u00e4lle.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 olimme samalla vuorella. Ilma oli silloin niin samea,\nettei vastaista rantaa n\u00e4kynyt. Kutsuin Perjantain luokseni.\n-- Perjantai! sanoin. -- Tahtoisitko palata takaisin omaan maahasi,\noman kansasi luokse?\n-- Kyll\u00e4! vastasi h\u00e4n. -- Se on suuri ilo, oi niin suuri ilo, jos\nPerjantai p\u00e4\u00e4see sinne.\n-- Mit\u00e4 sin\u00e4 siell\u00e4 tekisit? Sinusta tulisi siell\u00e4 samanlainen villi\nkuin ennenkin; ihmisen lihaakin taas s\u00f6isit.\nH\u00e4n k\u00e4vi hyvin murheelliseksi ja p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4ns\u00e4 puistellen vastasi:\n-- Ei, ei! Perjantai sanoo heille: pit\u00e4\u00e4 olla hyv\u00e4, pit\u00e4\u00e4 rukoilla\nJumalaa, pit\u00e4\u00e4 sy\u00f6d\u00e4 ohraleip\u00e4\u00e4, vuohilihaa, vuohimaitoa; ei sy\u00f6 en\u00e4\u00e4\nmies.\n-- Mutta tappaisivathan ne sinut!\n-- Ei! sanoi h\u00e4n vakavasti. -- Ei he tappaa, he tahtoo oppia. Ja\nsamalla h\u00e4n kertoi heid\u00e4n oppineen yht\u00e4 ja toista parrakkailta\nvalkoisilta miehilt\u00e4, joita oli tullut heid\u00e4n maahansa.\nKysyin sitten, tahtoisiko h\u00e4n l\u00e4hte\u00e4 takaisin omaan maahansa. H\u00e4n\nnaurahti ja vastasi, ettei h\u00e4n jaksa uida niin pitk\u00e4\u00e4 matkaa. Ent\u00e4 jos\ntekisin h\u00e4nelle kanootin? No silloin h\u00e4n oli valmis l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n, jos\nnimitt\u00e4in min\u00e4 tulisin mukaan.\n-- Min\u00e4k\u00f6? huudahdin min\u00e4. -- S\u00f6isiv\u00e4th\u00e4n ne minut!\n-- Ei, ei! vakuutteli h\u00e4n. -- Perjantai tekee, ne ei sy\u00f6 _master_,\nPerjantai tekee, ne rakastaa _master_.\nH\u00e4n tarkoitti aikovansa kertoa heille, kuinka min\u00e4 surmasin h\u00e4nen\nvihollisensa ja pelastin h\u00e4nen henkens\u00e4, siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4 he rakastaisivat\nminua. Ja j\u00e4lleen h\u00e4n kertoi, kuinka yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti he olivat\nkohdelleet niit\u00e4 seitsem\u00e4\u00e4toista miest\u00e4, jotka tuuli oli ajanut heid\u00e4n\nrannoilleen.\nKuudestoista luku\nL\u00e4hd\u00f6n hankkeita. -- Uusi vene. -- Taas villej\u00e4 rannalla.\nEspanjalainen. -- Perjantain is\u00e4.\nT\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien aloin lakkaamatta hautoa mieless\u00e4ni, miten p\u00e4\u00e4sisin\ntoiselle rannalle Perjantain mainitsemien eurooppalaisten luo, jotka\nkaikesta p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en olivat espanjalaisia tai portugalilaisia. Siell\u00e4\nmannermaalla me miehiss\u00e4 paremminkin saisimme keksityksi jonkin keinon\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pois n\u00e4ilt\u00e4 oudoilta seuduilta kuin min\u00e4 yksin t\u00e4ll\u00e4 saarella.\nNiinp\u00e4 vein Perjantain kerran katsomaan viimeksi tekem\u00e4\u00e4ni venett\u00e4 ja\nty\u00f6nsimme sen vesille.\n-- Mit\u00e4 sanot, Perjantai? L\u00e4hdet\u00e4\u00e4nk\u00f6 t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kotiseudullesi?\nEp\u00e4ilev\u00e4sti h\u00e4n pudisti p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4n: h\u00e4n piti sit\u00e4 n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti liian\npienen\u00e4 moiselle matkalle. Ilmoitin h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 oli minulla\nsuurempiakin, ja vein seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4net katsomaan ensimm\u00e4ist\u00e4\nvenett\u00e4ni, jota en ollut jaksanut saada rantaan. Se olisi Perjantain\nmielest\u00e4 kokoonsa n\u00e4hden ollut kyll\u00e4 riitt\u00e4v\u00e4, mutta pahaksi onneksi\nse oli ollut kaikkea hoitoa vailla kolmekolmatta vuotta ja oli nyt\nniin lahonnut ja r\u00e4nsistynyt, ettei siit\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 ollut vesille\nviet\u00e4v\u00e4ksi.\nKun mieless\u00e4ni yh\u00e4 vain paloi matka t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 pois, sanoin Perjantaille\nrakentavani uuden, yht\u00e4 suuren veneen, jolla h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4sisi omaan\nmaahansa takaisin. H\u00e4n ei puhunut mit\u00e4\u00e4n, n\u00e4ytti vain kovin\nmurheelliselta. Kysytty\u00e4ni, mik\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle nyt tuli, h\u00e4n vastasi:\n-- Miks master suuttuu Perjantai? Mit\u00e4 Perjantai tekee? Vakuutin etten\nensink\u00e4\u00e4n ollut h\u00e4neen suuttunut.\n-- Eik\u00f6 suuttuu? h\u00e4n kysyi. -- Eik\u00f6 suuttuu? Mut miks l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4\nPerjantai pois oma maa?\n-- Mutta sanoithan kernaasti l\u00e4htev\u00e4si sinne.\n-- Kyll\u00e4, kyll\u00e4 kernas, mut me kaks: ei Perjantai sinne yks, ei\n_master_ sinne yks.\n-- Mit\u00e4p\u00e4 min\u00e4 siell\u00e4?\nH\u00e4n k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi vilkkaasti minuun p\u00e4in huudahtaen:\n-- _Master_ tekee moni hyv\u00e4, opettaa villi mies: olla hyv\u00e4, olla\nlempe\u00e4, _master_ opettaa villi tuntemaan Jumalaa, rukoilemaan Jumalaa,\nel\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n uusi el\u00e4m\u00e4.\n-- Voi Perjantai parka! Et sin\u00e4 tied\u00e4, mit\u00e4 puhut! Tietoa ja taitoa\nvailla min\u00e4 itsekin olen.\n-- Ei, ei! Master opettaa Perjantai olla hyv\u00e4 ja opettaa villi mies\nolla hyv\u00e4.\n-- Ei niin, Perjantai! Parasta on, ett\u00e4 l\u00e4hdet yksin ja j\u00e4t\u00e4t minut\nt\u00e4nne.\nH\u00e4n tuli j\u00e4lleen murheelliseksi, sieppasi sitten \u00e4kki\u00e4 kirveen\nvy\u00f6lt\u00e4ni ja ojensi sen minulle.\n-- Mit\u00e4s min\u00e4 t\u00e4ll\u00e4? kys\u00e4isin.\n-- _Master_ tappaa Perjantai.\n-- Miksi min\u00e4 sinut tappaisin?\n-- Miks l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 Perjantai pois? _Master_ tappaa Perjantai, mut ei\nl\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 Perjantai pois.\nPoika puhui niin vakavasti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle kiertyiv\u00e4t vedet silmiin.\nHuomasin kuinka syd\u00e4mellisesti h\u00e4n oli minuun kiintynyt ja sanoin\nh\u00e4nelle nyt, niin kuin monesti my\u00f6hemminkin, etten milloinkaan aikonut\nl\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 pois, jos h\u00e4n vain tahtoi pysy\u00e4 luonani.\nSamalla selvisi minulle, ett\u00e4 Perjantain koti-ik\u00e4v\u00e4 perustui siihen\nhartaaseen haluun, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4kin tulisin h\u00e4nen maahansa opettamaan ja\nneuvomaan h\u00e4nen kansaansa. Sellaiseen ty\u00f6h\u00f6n min\u00e4 puolestani tiesin\nolevani aivan kykenem\u00e4t\u00f6n enk\u00e4 siihen tuntenut kutsumustakaan. Mutta\nsittenkin sinne veti minua toivo p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 yhteyteen siell\u00e4 asuvien\neurooppalaisten kanssa.\nJa niinp\u00e4 ryhdyimmekin Perjantain kanssa rakentamaan uutta venett\u00e4\nyhdest\u00e4 puunrungosta niin kuin entisi\u00e4kin. Sopivista aineksista\nsaarella ei suinkaan ollut puutetta. Kokonaisen laivastonkin olisi\nsaattanut siell\u00e4 rakentaa. Kuukauden p\u00e4iv\u00e4t raadoimme ahkerasti\naamusta iltaan, kunnes veneen runko oli valmis, mutta kului viel\u00e4\nkaksi viikkoa, ennen kuin saimme sen rantaan, sill\u00e4 meid\u00e4n oli\nty\u00f6nnett\u00e4v\u00e4 se veteen telojen p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4. Matka edistyi vain tuuma\ntuumalta.\nRunko meill\u00e4 nyt kyll\u00e4 oli, mutta kului viel\u00e4 kaksi kuukautta, ennen\nkuin saimme mastot, purjeet ja per\u00e4simen valmiiksi ja paikoilleen.\nSilloin muistutti veneeni suuresti purtta, jolla olin Sal\u00e9sta\npurjehtinut pois.\nPerjantai, joka kyll\u00e4 oli taitava soutaja ja meloja, mutta ei ollut\nmilloinkaan n\u00e4hnyt purjeita, katseli h\u00e4mm\u00e4styneen\u00e4, miten vene minun\nohjaamanani soutamatta eteni vedenpinnalla k\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00e4hdellen ja\npuikkelehtien milloin puoleen, milloin toiseen. Mutta pian h\u00e4nkin\ntottui purjeveneeseen, ja ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nest\u00e4 tuli varsin taitava\nmerimies. Kompassia vain h\u00e4nen oli vaikea k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4.\nNyt alkoi seitsem\u00e4skolmatta vuosi t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 oloni ajasta, josta kolme\nviimeist\u00e4 vuotta olin viett\u00e4nyt yhdess\u00e4 Perjantain kanssa.\nKiitollisena Jumalan armollisesta huolenpidosta aloitin t\u00e4m\u00e4nkin uuden\nvuoden h\u00e4nen apuunsa turvaten. Sadeaika alkoi taas kuten tavallista,\nme panimme uuden purtemme suojaan joen poukamaan ja rakensimme\nvedenpit\u00e4v\u00e4n katoksen sen ylle. Seuraavan marras- tai joulukuun aikana\nmeid\u00e4n oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 l\u00e4hte\u00e4 yritt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ulapalle.\nPouta-ajan tultua ryhdyin valmistautumaan matkalle. Ensiksi varustin\nev\u00e4\u00e4t. Kerran aamulla n\u00e4iss\u00e4 puuhissa ollessani l\u00e4hetin Perjantain\nmerenrannalle katsomaan, olisiko siell\u00e4 kilpikonnia, joita\ntavallisesti saimme viikossa yhden. Hetken kuluttua n\u00e4in h\u00e4nen\njuoksevan hirmuista vauhtia takaisin, hypp\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4n vallin yli ja\nrient\u00e4v\u00e4n luokseni. En enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt kysy\u00e4 syyt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4h\u00e4n kiireeseen,\nkun h\u00e4n jo huudahti:\n-- _Master, master!_ Voi suru! Voi hirmu!\n-- Mit\u00e4 nyt, Perjantai?\n-- Tuolla, tuolla yks, kaks, kolme kanootti, yks, kaks, kolme.\nLuulin h\u00e4nen tarkoittavan kuutta, mutta l\u00e4hemmin kyselty\u00e4ni sain\ntiet\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen n\u00e4hneen vain kolme.\n-- Niit\u00e4k\u00f6 sin\u00e4 noin s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdit?\nKoetin rauhoittaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 mink\u00e4 taisin, mutta mies parka oli aivan\nsuunniltaan. H\u00e4n ei kyennyt muuta ajattelemaan kuin ett\u00e4 viholliset\nolivat tulleet h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hakemaan. Nyt he saisivat kiinni, tappaisivat ja\ns\u00f6isiv\u00e4t h\u00e4net. Koetin rauhoittaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kaikin tavoin. Selitin\nh\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 olinhan min\u00e4 yht\u00e4 suuressa vaarassa kuin h\u00e4nkin: jos he\nh\u00e4net surmaisivat, niin eiv\u00e4t he minuakaan henkiin j\u00e4tt\u00e4isi.\n-- Mutta, lis\u00e4sin min\u00e4, -- meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyy taistella heid\u00e4n kanssaan.\nOsaatko taistella, Perjantai?\n-- Kyll\u00e4 min\u00e4 ampua, vastasi h\u00e4n, -- mutta ne on niin hirmun moni.\n-- V\u00e4h\u00e4t siit\u00e4! min\u00e4 vakuutin. -- Me ammumme heid\u00e4t, ja kuka henkiin\nj\u00e4\u00e4, se pakenee pyssyn pauketta.\nKysyin sitten, puolustaisiko h\u00e4n minua, jos min\u00e4 puolustaisin h\u00e4nt\u00e4,\nja lupaisiko h\u00e4n pysy\u00e4 rinnallani ja tehd\u00e4 kaiken, mit\u00e4 vain k\u00e4sken.\nH\u00e4n vastasi:\n-- Jos _master_ vaikka k\u00e4skee Perjantai kuolla, niin Perjantai kuolla.\nAnnoin h\u00e4nelle kulauksen rommia ja k\u00e4skin tuoda molemmat lintupyssyt,\njotka latasin karkeilla hauleilla. Panin panokseen nelj\u00e4 muskettia\npist\u00e4en kuhunkin kaksi metallipalasta ja viisi pient\u00e4 luotia. Samoin\nlatasin molemmat pistoolit, sidoin sitten miekan vy\u00f6lleni ja k\u00e4skin\nPerjantaita ottamaan kirveens\u00e4. N\u00e4in varustettuna l\u00e4hdin kiikari\nmukanani vuoren huipulle.\nRannalla n\u00e4kyi olevan yksikolmatta villi\u00e4 ja heill\u00e4 oli kolme vankia\nmukanaan. Hiekalle oli vedetty kolme kanoottia. He eiv\u00e4t olleet\nnousseet maihin samaan paikkaan, josta Perjantai aikoinaan oli\nkarannut, vaan l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi joen suuta, miss\u00e4 mets\u00e4 ulottui melkein\nrantaan saakka. Heill\u00e4 oli n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti aikomus taas k\u00e4yd\u00e4 sy\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n\nkaameita verisi\u00e4 aterioitansa, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 saattoi minut niin vimmoihini,\nett\u00e4 alas tultuani ilmoitin Perjantaille aikovani ampua tai ly\u00f6d\u00e4\nheid\u00e4t kuoliaaksi viimeiseen mieheen. Kysyin h\u00e4nelt\u00e4, lupaisiko h\u00e4n\nauttaa minua. H\u00e4n oli nyt toipunut ensimm\u00e4isest\u00e4 s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksest\u00e4\u00e4n ja\nvakuutti olevansa valmis vaikka kuolemaan, jos niin k\u00e4skisin.\nYh\u00e4 viel\u00e4kin vimmoissani jaoin aseet meid\u00e4n kahden kesken. K\u00e4skin\nPerjantain pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n pistoolin vy\u00f6ll\u00e4\u00e4n ja ottamaan kolme pyssy\u00e4\nolalleen. Itse otin my\u00f6s pistoolin ja kolme pyssy\u00e4. Pistin taskuuni\npienen pullon rommia sek\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4n leip\u00e4\u00e4 ja annoin Perjantain huostaan\nruuti- ja luotipussin k\u00e4skien h\u00e4nen kulkemaan j\u00e4ljess\u00e4ni aivan \u00e4\u00e4neti\nja laukaisemaan vasta silloin, kun min\u00e4 m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\u00e4n. Teimme sitten l\u00e4hes\nmailin pituisen kierroksen joen yli, niin ett\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4simme mets\u00e4n\nsuojassa villien huomaamatta heid\u00e4n l\u00e4helleen.\nMatkalla aloin v\u00e4hitellen lievent\u00e4\u00e4 \u00e4skeist\u00e4 ankaraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6st\u00e4ni.\nSiihen ei ollut syyn\u00e4 se, ett\u00e4 olisin pel\u00e4nnyt villien monilukuisuutta\n-- min\u00e4h\u00e4n olisin yksin\u00e4nikin ollut voimakkaampi kuin nuo alastomat\naseettomat raukat -- vaan se, ett\u00e4 tulin j\u00e4lleen ajatelleeksi: mit\u00e4\nsyyt\u00e4, mik\u00e4 oikeus minulla on tahrata k\u00e4si\u00e4ni ihmisverell\u00e4? Perjantain\nvihollisia he kyll\u00e4 olivat, Perjantailla oli lainmukainen oikeus\nhy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4 heid\u00e4n kimppuunsa, mutta mit\u00e4 pahaa he minulle olivat tehneet?\nOliko minulla oikeus, sanoin itsekseni, k\u00e4yd\u00e4 heit\u00e4 rankaisemaan\nheid\u00e4n kansallisten syntiens\u00e4 t\u00e4hden? Ja niin p\u00e4\u00e4tin menn\u00e4 vain\nl\u00e4helt\u00e4 katsomaan, mit\u00e4 he tekiv\u00e4t, ja ryhty\u00e4 toimenpiteisiin vasta\nsiin\u00e4 tapauksessa, ett\u00e4 saisin jonkin erityisen merkin.\nHiljaa ja varovasti kuljin eteenp\u00e4in Perjantai kintereill\u00e4ni, kunnes\np\u00e4\u00e4simme niin l\u00e4helle villej\u00e4, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4t erotti heist\u00e4 vain pieni\nmets\u00e4nniemeke. Viittasin Perjantain luokseni, k\u00e4skin h\u00e4nen hiipi\u00e4\ner\u00e4\u00e4n suuren puun taakse aivan mets\u00e4n reunaan ja tuoda minulle tietoja\nn\u00e4kem\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n. Pian h\u00e4n tulikin takaisin kertoen villien istuvan nuotion\nymp\u00e4rill\u00e4. Yksi vangeista oli tapettu ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 he parhaillaan s\u00f6iv\u00e4t.\nToinen oli rannassa sidottuna odottamassa vuoroaan. T\u00e4m\u00e4 sai jo vereni\nkuohumaan, mutta ylimmilleen vimmani yltyi kuultuani Perjantailta,\nettei tuo vanki ollutkaan h\u00e4nen kansalaisiaan, vaan niit\u00e4 valkoisia,\npartasuisia miehi\u00e4, joita h\u00e4nen maassaan asui. Kauhistuneena menin\nomin silmin tutkimaan asiaa ja n\u00e4in todellakin kiikarillani valkoisen\nmiehen makaavan rannassa, eurooppalainen puku yll\u00e4\u00e4n, sidottuna\nk\u00e4sist\u00e4 ja jaloista.\nNoin puolisataa yardia l\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4 heit\u00e4 kasvoi tihe\u00e4n ryteik\u00f6n laidassa\ntoinen puu. Sen taakse hiivin nyt ja p\u00e4\u00e4sin noin kahdeksankymmenen\nyardin p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n villeist\u00e4. Perjantai oli uskollisesti seurannut minua\naskel askelelta.\nYksitoista julmuria istui maassa yhdess\u00e4, ja oli juuri l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt\nkaksi teurastajaa maassa makaavan kristityn kimppuun. N\u00e4m\u00e4 olivat\nparhaillaan p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4 h\u00e4nen jalkojaan siteist\u00e4 irti. Nyt emme\nvoineet viivytell\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 silm\u00e4nr\u00e4p\u00e4yst\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. K\u00e4\u00e4nnyin Perjantain\npuoleen sanoen:\n-- Tee nyt samoin kuin n\u00e4et minun tekev\u00e4n ja tottele jokaista\nk\u00e4sky\u00e4ni!\nLaskin maahan yhden musketin ja molemmat lintupyssyt. Perjantai\nnoudatti esimerkki\u00e4ni. Yhden musketin ojensin villej\u00e4 kohti ja rupesin\nt\u00e4ht\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4skien Perjantain tehd\u00e4 samoin.\n-- Oletko valmis nyt?\n-- Kyll\u00e4.\n-- Ammu sitten! Samassa laukaisin min\u00e4kin.\nPerjantai oli t\u00e4hd\u00e4nnyt paremmin kuin min\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen puolellaan\nkaatui kuolleena maahan kaksi ja haavoittui kolme; minun puolellani\nkuoli yksi ja haavoittui kaksi. Kauhea h\u00e4mm\u00e4stys valtasi haavoitetut.\nMuutkin kavahtivat pystyyn, mutta eiv\u00e4t tienneet, minne paeta, minne\nkatsoa, sill\u00e4 eiv\u00e4th\u00e4n he tienneet, mist\u00e4p\u00e4in t\u00e4m\u00e4 tuho ja turmio oli\ntullut.\nLaskin musketin maahan ja sieppasin toisen lintupyssyn. Perjantai teki\nsamoin. Min\u00e4 ojensin ja viritin hanan; h\u00e4n samoin.\n-- Oletko valmis, Perjantai?\n-- Kyll\u00e4.\n-- Laukaise sitten Jumalan nimeen! k\u00e4skin min\u00e4 ampuen samassa itsekin.\nLintupyssyt olivat ladatut pelkill\u00e4 raehauleilla, ja siksi ei t\u00e4ll\u00e4\nkertaa kaatunut kuin kaksi miest\u00e4. Sit\u00e4 useampi haavoittui, ja n\u00e4m\u00e4\nalkoivat nyt huutaen ja parkuen juosta veriss\u00e4\u00e4n sinne t\u00e4nne kuin\nmielipuolet. Pian heist\u00e4kin kolme vaipui maahan, vaikka ei aivan\nhengett\u00f6m\u00e4n\u00e4.\n-- Nyt, Perjantai! komensin min\u00e4 laskien k\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4ni pyssyn maahan ja\ntarttuen muskettiin. -- Seuraa nyt minua!\nSamassa hy\u00f6kk\u00e4sin piilostani esiin, Perjantai j\u00e4ljess\u00e4ni. Heti kun\nvillit olivat n\u00e4hneet meid\u00e4t, aloin huutaa mink\u00e4 jaksoin, k\u00e4skin\nPerjantain tehd\u00e4 samoin ja riensin suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 vanki paran luokse.\nTeurastajat, jotka olivat s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4neet ensimm\u00e4isi\u00e4 laukauksia,\nj\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t h\u00e4net rauhaan ja pakenivat hurjaa vauhtia merenrannalle p\u00e4in.\nSiell\u00e4 he ja kolme muuta villi\u00e4 hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t kanoottiin. Min\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4nnyin\nPerjantain puoleen ja k\u00e4skin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 juoksemaan heid\u00e4n j\u00e4ljess\u00e4\u00e4n ja\nampumaan. H\u00e4n ymm\u00e4rsi heti, juoksi kolme-, nelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4 yardia\nl\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi ja laukaisi muskettinsa kanoottia kohti.\nLuulin h\u00e4nen jo ampuneen kuoliaaksi siell\u00e4 joka miehen, sill\u00e4 kaikki\nviisi kaatuivat yhtaikaa veneen pohjaan. Mutta kaksi heist\u00e4 nousi heti\nreippaina yl\u00f6s. Kaksi oli kuollut, kolmas haavoittunut.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin sieppasin puukkoni, katkoin vanki poloisen siteet, nostin\nh\u00e4net pystyyn ja kysyin portugalin kielell\u00e4, kuka h\u00e4n oli. H\u00e4n vastasi\nlatinaksi: \"_Christianus_\" (kristitty), mutta oli niin heikko, ett\u00e4\ntuskin jaksoi seisoa ja puhua. Otin rommipullon taskustani, annoin\nh\u00e4nen ryyp\u00e4t\u00e4 siit\u00e4 ja ojensin h\u00e4nelle sitten palasen leip\u00e4\u00e4, jonka\nh\u00e4n s\u00f6i hyvin halukkaasti. Tiedusteltuani, mit\u00e4 kansallisuutta h\u00e4n\noli, h\u00e4n vastasi: \"_Espanol_\" (espanjalainen) osoittaen samalla\nkaikenlaisin merkein, kuinka syv\u00e4sti kiitollinen h\u00e4n oli henkens\u00e4\npelastumisesta.\n-- _Seignior!_ sanoin min\u00e4 huonolla espanjallani, -- puhutaan siit\u00e4\nmy\u00f6hemmin, nyt meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyy taistella. Jos teill\u00e4 on v\u00e4h\u00e4nkin viel\u00e4\nvoimia, niin ottakaa t\u00e4m\u00e4 pistooli ja miekka.\nKiitollisena h\u00e4n otti ne vastaan, ja tuskin olivat aseet h\u00e4nen\nk\u00e4siss\u00e4\u00e4n, niin h\u00e4n tunsi jo voimiensa elpyneen ja rynt\u00e4si hurjalla\nvimmalla murhaajiensa kimppuun. Kaksi villi\u00e4 h\u00e4n l\u00f6i maahan heti.\nVilli parat olivat todellakin niin kauhuissaan pyssyjen laukauksista,\njollaisia he eiv\u00e4t viel\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 olleet kuulleet, ett\u00e4 heit\u00e4 jo pelk\u00e4st\u00e4\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksest\u00e4kin kaatui maahan. Niin k\u00e4vi veneeseenkin paenneitten:\nkaikki viisi kaatuivat, vaikka kolmeen vain oli sattunut.\nLaukaisematta viel\u00e4 omaa muskettiani k\u00e4skin Perjantain kiireimmiten\ntuoda k\u00e4tk\u00f6paikasta pyssyt, jotka olimme sinne j\u00e4tt\u00e4neet. Saatuani ne\nannoin muskettini Perjantaille ja rupesin lataamaan tyhji\u00e4 pyssyj\u00e4\nk\u00e4skien h\u00e4nen sek\u00e4 espanjalaisen hakea minulta ladattuja aseita,\nmilloin tarvitsivat. Ei aikaakaan, niin huomasin espanjalaisen\njoutuneen kovaan taisteluun er\u00e4\u00e4n kookkaan villin kanssa, joka uhkasi\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 suurella puisella miekallaan. Espanjalainen, joka heikkoudestaan\nhuolimatta taisteli eritt\u00e4in uljaasti ja taitavasti, oli jo iskenyt\nvastustajansa p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n kaksi suurta haavaa, mutta villi, roteva ja\nv\u00e4kev\u00e4 mies, oli hy\u00f6k\u00e4nnyt h\u00e4nen kimppuunsa, kaatanut h\u00e4net maahan ja\nkoetti nyt v\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4 miekkaa h\u00e4nen k\u00e4dest\u00e4\u00e4n. Espanjalainen veti sill\u00e4\nv\u00e4lin toisella k\u00e4dell\u00e4\u00e4n pistoolin vy\u00f6lt\u00e4\u00e4n ja irrottautui miehest\u00e4,\nmutta laukaisi samalla pistoolinsa tappaen h\u00e4net siihen paikkaan,\nennenkuin min\u00e4 enn\u00e4tin avuksi.\nPerjantai, joka minun l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4ni oli j\u00e4\u00e4nyt yksin, l\u00e4hti ajamaan\nvillej\u00e4 takaa ilman muuta asetta kuin pelkk\u00e4 kirves k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n. Ensi\nty\u00f6kseen h\u00e4n l\u00f6i kuoliaaksi ne kolme, jotka olivat haavoittuneet\nensimm\u00e4isest\u00e4 laukauksesta, ja sitten jokaisen, jonka vain saavutti.\nEspanjalainen tuli hakemaan minulta uusia aseita ja saatuaan k\u00e4teens\u00e4\nlintupyssyn l\u00e4hti ajamaan takaa kahta villi\u00e4, joita h\u00e4n haavoitti\nkumpaistakin. He pakenivat mets\u00e4\u00e4n, jonne espanjalainen v\u00e4hill\u00e4\nvoimillaan ei jaksanut heit\u00e4 seurata, mutta Perjantai juoksi heid\u00e4n\nj\u00e4ljess\u00e4\u00e4n ja l\u00f6i toisen kuoliaaksi. Toinen oli kovin ketter\u00e4\njaloistaan ja pakeni rantaan. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n heitt\u00e4ytyi veteen ja ui\nkanootin luo, jossa oli kolme muuta henkiin j\u00e4\u00e4nytt\u00e4 villi\u00e4. N\u00e4m\u00e4\nnelj\u00e4 olivat ainoat, jotka yhdest\u00e4kolmatta miehest\u00e4 olivat p\u00e4\u00e4sseet\nmeilt\u00e4 pakoon.\nKanoottiin pelastuneet soutivat nyt kaikin voimin ulapalle ja\np\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4tkin pyssyn kantamattomiin, sill\u00e4 vaikka Perjantai ampuikin\nheit\u00e4 kohti muutamia laukauksia, en huomannut yhdenk\u00e4\u00e4n sattuneen.\nPerjantai vaati nyt kiihke\u00e4sti, ett\u00e4 l\u00e4hdett\u00e4isiin ajamaan heit\u00e4\ntakaa. Min\u00e4kin ajattelin, ett\u00e4 jos nuo nelj\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sisiv\u00e4t meid\u00e4n\nk\u00e4sist\u00e4mme, niin he veisiv\u00e4t kotipuoleensa sanoman t\u00e4st\u00e4 tapauksesta,\nja ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 saisimme pari-, kolmesataa villi\u00e4 kimppuumme. Sen\nvuoksi riensin rantaan, k\u00e4skin Perjantain mukaani ja hypp\u00e4sin\nkanoottiin. Mutta suuri oli h\u00e4mm\u00e4stykseni n\u00e4hty\u00e4ni veneen pohjalla\nmiehen, jonka k\u00e4det ja jalat olivat sidotut. H\u00e4n oli kuolemaisillaan\npelosta ja kauhistuksesta, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei voinut nostaa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4n eik\u00e4\nsiis tiennyt, mit\u00e4 rannalla vallinnut kova pauke ja melu merkitsi.\nMies parka oli niin lujasti sidottu ja niin kauan ollut t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nvaikeassa asemassa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli melkein henkitoreissaan.\nHetke\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ep\u00e4r\u00f6im\u00e4tt\u00e4 katkaisin h\u00e4nen siteens\u00e4 ja yritin auttaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nyl\u00f6s, mutta h\u00e4n ei pysynyt pystyss\u00e4 eik\u00e4 kyennyt puhumaan. H\u00e4n\nvoivotteli vain surkeasti luullen nyt joutuvansa teurastettavaksi.\nK\u00e4skin Perjantain ilmoittaa h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli nyt pelastettu, ja\nannoin h\u00e4nelle muutaman tipan rommia pullostani. T\u00e4m\u00e4 vahvisti h\u00e4nt\u00e4,\nja kuultuaan sen iloisen sanoman, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n j\u00e4isi henkiin, h\u00e4n elpyi\nkerrassaan ja nousi istumaan. Mutta tuskin oli Perjantai mennyt h\u00e4nen\nluokseen ja n\u00e4hnyt h\u00e4nen kasvonsa, niin -- kukaan ei olisi kyynelitt\u00e4\nvoinut heit\u00e4 katsella! Perjantai sulki h\u00e4net \u00e4kki\u00e4 syliins\u00e4, suuteli\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4, hyv\u00e4ili h\u00e4nt\u00e4, huusi sitten riemuissaan, nauroi, hyppi ja\ntanssi, v\u00e4\u00e4nteli k\u00e4si\u00e4\u00e4n, l\u00f6i kasvoihinsa ja huusi ja hyppi taas kuin\nmielet\u00f6n. Aivan mahdotonta oli saada h\u00e4nt\u00e4 puhumaan yht\u00e4\u00e4n selv\u00e4\u00e4\nsanaa. Vasta pitk\u00e4n ajan kuluttua h\u00e4n hiukan tyyntyi, ja silloin sain\ntiet\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 mies oli h\u00e4nen is\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nEn kykene kuvailemaan sit\u00e4 rajatonta riemua ja hell\u00e4\u00e4 lapsen\nrakkautta, jota t\u00e4m\u00e4 villi parka osoitti n\u00e4hty\u00e4\u00e4n kuolemasta\npelastetun is\u00e4ns\u00e4. H\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si veneeseen, hypp\u00e4si siit\u00e4 pois, riensi\nj\u00e4lleen siihen, istahti is\u00e4ns\u00e4 viereen, avasi sylins\u00e4 ja painoi is\u00e4ns\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4n rintaansa vasten painellen ja hieroen k\u00e4sill\u00e4\u00e4n is\u00e4n\nj\u00e4ykistyneit\u00e4 ja siteist\u00e4 p\u00f6h\u00f6ttyneit\u00e4 j\u00e4seni\u00e4. T\u00e4m\u00e4n huomattuani\nannoin Perjantaille hiukan rommia, mill\u00e4 hieroa, ja se n\u00e4kyi tekev\u00e4n\nvarsin hyv\u00e4\u00e4.\nNyt ei voitu en\u00e4\u00e4 ajatellakaan takaa-ajoa. Villej\u00e4 ei en\u00e4\u00e4 n\u00e4kynyt.\nHyv\u00e4 olikin ettemme l\u00e4hteneet, sill\u00e4 parin tunnin kuluttua nousi\nankara tuuli, jota kesti koko y\u00f6n. Se puhalsi luoteesta ja oli heille\nsiis aivan vastainen. En usko heid\u00e4n koskaan en\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sseen rantaan.\nSeitsem\u00e4stoista luku\nVieraille eri teltta. -- Ensimm\u00e4inen nelj\u00e4n miehen p\u00e4iv\u00e4llinen. --\nSuuren matkan varustuksia. -- Espanjalainen ja Perjantain is\u00e4\nl\u00e4hettil\u00e4iksi.\nOli liikuttavaa n\u00e4hd\u00e4, miten hell\u00e4\u00e4 huolta Perjantai piti vanhasta\nis\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n, joka viel\u00e4kin istui kanootin pohjalla. H\u00e4n kantoi h\u00e4nelle\nminulta saamansa leiv\u00e4n ja rommin. Omasta puolestaan h\u00e4n vei sinne\nleilillisen vett\u00e4, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti virkist\u00e4v\u00e4n vanhusta enemm\u00e4n kuin\nmik\u00e4\u00e4n muu.\nK\u00e4skin h\u00e4nen sitten vied\u00e4 virvokkeita espanjalaisellekin, joka oli\nkovin n\u00e4\u00e4nnyksiss\u00e4 istahtanut nurmelle tuuhean puun siimekseen,\nj\u00e4senet viel\u00e4 kovista siteist\u00e4 hellin\u00e4 ja p\u00f6h\u00f6ttynein\u00e4 ja kykenem\u00e4tt\u00e4\nomin voimin nousemaan pystyyn. Perjantai alkoi hieroa rommilla\nh\u00e4nenkin j\u00e4seni\u00e4\u00e4n tuon tuostakin vilkaisten sinne p\u00e4in, miss\u00e4 is\u00e4\noli. \u00c4kki\u00e4 h\u00e4n huomasi is\u00e4n kadonneen n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4 ja sanaakaan sanomatta\nh\u00e4n l\u00e4hti juoksemaan rantaa niin hurjaa vauhtia, ett\u00e4 tuskin n\u00e4ki\njalan koskettavan maata. Ei vanhuksella mit\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4 ollut, h\u00e4n oli\nvain oikaissut itsens\u00e4 pitk\u00e4kseen kanootin pohjalle.\nSen j\u00e4lkeen pyysin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 taluttamaan espanjalaisenkin veneeseen ja\nsoutamaan h\u00e4net sek\u00e4 is\u00e4n kotiin. Mutta Perjantai, roteva ja v\u00e4kev\u00e4\nmies, nosti espanjalaisen selk\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja kantoi rantaan laskien h\u00e4net\nsitten varovasti is\u00e4ns\u00e4 viereen kanootin pohjalle. Vastatuulesta\nv\u00e4litt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 h\u00e4n sitten sauvoi veneen lyhyess\u00e4 ajassa joen poukamaan,\njonne min\u00e4 l\u00e4hdin jalan. J\u00e4tetty\u00e4\u00e4n vieraat veneeseen h\u00e4n kiiti\ntakaisin entiseen paikkaan samaa hurjaa vauhtia ja toi sielt\u00e4\ntoisenkin kanootin saapuen joen rantaan melkein samaan aikaan kuin\nmin\u00e4. Soudettuaan sitten minut joen yli kotirantaan h\u00e4n auttoi\nveneess\u00e4 olijat maihin, mutta n\u00e4m\u00e4 poloiset olivat niin heikkoja,\netteiv\u00e4t he jaksaneet k\u00e4vell\u00e4.\nTuota pikaa tein Perjantain kanssa paarit, joilla kannoimme vieraat\nuloimman vallin juurelle. Mutta siin\u00e4p\u00e4 oli taas pulma: mahdotonta oli\nsaada heid\u00e4t nostamalla vallin yli, enk\u00e4 tahtonut valliakaan murtaa.\nEi auttanut muu kuin ryhty\u00e4 teltan tekoon, ja parissa tunnissa me\nkahden saimmekin teltan pystytetyksi uloimman vallin ja istuttamani\nviidakon v\u00e4liselle aukiolle. Sinne laitoimme riisin oljista vuoteet,\npanimme vuoteisiin alus- ja p\u00e4\u00e4llyspeitteit\u00e4 ja nostimme niihin\nv\u00e4syneet vieraamme.\nNyt oli saaren v\u00e4kiluku lis\u00e4\u00e4ntynyt, ja min\u00e4 olin kuin kuningas: saari\noli valtakuntani ja itse olin sen herra ja lains\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4j\u00e4. Alamaisiakin\nminulla oli, uskollisia alamaisia, jotka vakuuttivat olevansa valmiita\npanemaan henkens\u00e4 alttiiksi minun puolestani. Oli omituista, ett\u00e4\nkaikki alamaiseni olivat eri uskontoa: Perjantai oli protestantti,\nh\u00e4nen is\u00e4ns\u00e4 pakana ja espanjalainen katolilainen. T\u00e4ydellinen\nomantunnonvapaus meill\u00e4 kuitenkin vallitsi.\nPerjantain kanssa teurastimme vuoden vanhan vuohen ja keitimme siit\u00e4\nlihalient\u00e4 ja laitoimme paistia. Telttaan kannettiin p\u00f6yt\u00e4, ja niin\ns\u00f6imme yhdess\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4llist\u00e4 Perjantain toimiessa tulkkina minun ja\nvieraitteni v\u00e4lill\u00e4. Espanjalainenkin oli n\u00e4et jo enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt oppia\nvillien kielt\u00e4 varsin hyvin.\nP\u00e4iv\u00e4llisen j\u00e4lkeen k\u00e4skin Perjantain ker\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n meren rannalta kaikki\nsinne j\u00e4\u00e4neet aseemme. Seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4n sai teht\u00e4v\u00e4kseen haudata\nkaatuneiden ruumiit ja peitt\u00e4\u00e4 hiekkaan pienimm\u00e4tkin j\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6kset\nvillien julmasta ateriasta. T\u00e4m\u00e4n kaiken h\u00e4n suoritti niin\ntunnollisesti ja tarkasti, ett\u00e4 my\u00f6hemmin siell\u00e4 k\u00e4ydess\u00e4ni tuskin\nolisin paikkaa entiseksi h\u00e4vityksen tantereeksi tuntenut.\nIllemmalla k\u00e4skin Perjantain kysy\u00e4 is\u00e4lt\u00e4\u00e4n, luuliko h\u00e4n noiden nelj\u00e4n\nkarkulaisen p\u00e4\u00e4sseen kotiin, ja olisiko meill\u00e4 sielt\u00e4p\u00e4in\nodotettavissa hy\u00f6kk\u00e4ys. Vanhus arveli, ett\u00e4 ankara tuuli oli joko\nkaatanut heid\u00e4n veneens\u00e4, jolloin miehet olivat hukkuneet, tai ajanut\nheid\u00e4t muille rannoille vieraitten heimojen luo, ja mennytt\u00e4 kalua he\nsiin\u00e4kin tapauksessa olivat. Mutta vaikka he olisivat p\u00e4\u00e4sseet omaan\nkotirantaansakin, oli heill\u00e4 niin paljon kauheita asioita kerrottavana\nt\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4, ettei muiden suinkaan en\u00e4\u00e4 tekisi mieli l\u00e4hte\u00e4 samoja kauhuja\nkokemaan. He kertoisivat kotonaan, ett\u00e4 salama ja ukkonen oli tappanut\nheist\u00e4 suurimman osan ja ett\u00e4 saaressa oli kaksi kamalaa olentoa,\njotka putosivat taivaasta heit\u00e4 tuhoamaan. Sellaista h\u00e4n oli kuullut\nheid\u00e4n h\u00e4diss\u00e4\u00e4n huutelevan toisilleen, eik\u00e4 ihmek\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4\nmahdotontahan heid\u00e4n oli k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 tavallinen ihminen saattoi\nsaada jyrin\u00e4\u00e4 ja salamoita aikaan ja tappaa ihmisi\u00e4 pitk\u00e4n matkan\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4. Ukko oli oikeassa: villit eiv\u00e4t sen koommin uskaltaneet tulla\nsaareeni, sill\u00e4 kuultuaan karkurien kertomuksen he pitiv\u00e4t saarta\npahan hengen tyyssijana. Nuo nelj\u00e4 olivat n\u00e4et, niin kuin j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in\nsain tiet\u00e4\u00e4, todellakin p\u00e4\u00e4sseet kotiinsa. Nyt sit\u00e4 en viel\u00e4 tiennyt\nja p\u00e4\u00e4tin joka tapauksessa olla yh\u00e4 edelleenkin varuillani.\nKoska pitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan ei n\u00e4kynyt kanootteja, alkoi pelkonikin\nv\u00e4hitellen haihtua, ja niinp\u00e4 rupesin j\u00e4lleen miettim\u00e4\u00e4n, mill\u00e4\nkeinoin voisin p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pois t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4, varsinkin kun Perjantain is\u00e4\nvakuutti, ett\u00e4 minut otettaisiin h\u00e4nen kotimaassaan yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti\nvastaan. Intoni laimeni sent\u00e4\u00e4n koko lailla keskusteltuani asiasta\nespanjalaisen kanssa.\nH\u00e4n kertoi, ett\u00e4 siell\u00e4 oli kuusitoista espanjalaista ja\nportugalilaista haaksirikkoista miest\u00e4. Rauhassa he kyll\u00e4 eliv\u00e4t\nvillien kesken, mutta k\u00e4rsiv\u00e4t kaikenlaista puutetta. Heid\u00e4n matkansa\nvaiheista h\u00e4n kertoi seuraavaa. Heid\u00e4n laivansa oli matkalla Rio de la\nPlatasta Havannaan, lastina parhaasta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 vuotia ja hopeaa. Mutta\nheill\u00e4 oli viisi portugalilaista, jotka he olivat pelastaneet toisesta\nhaaksirikkoisesta laivasta. Sitten oli heid\u00e4n omakin laivansa joutunut\nhaaksirikkoon, jolloin viisi miest\u00e4 oli hukkunut. Muut olivat\nlaskeutuneet veneisiin ja suurten ponnistusten ja seikkailujen j\u00e4lkeen\nv\u00e4hiss\u00e4 hengin vihdoin p\u00e4\u00e4sseet maihin.\nKysyin sitten, miten h\u00e4n luuli heid\u00e4n siell\u00e4 lopulta k\u00e4yv\u00e4n ja\nolivatko he koskaan miettineet keinoja p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 sielt\u00e4 pois. H\u00e4n kertoi\nheid\u00e4n useinkin neuvotelleen asiasta, mutta kun ei heill\u00e4 ollut laivaa\neik\u00e4 ty\u00f6kaluja sellaisen rakentamiseen, ei tietoa ev\u00e4ist\u00e4 eik\u00e4 muista\nvarustuksista, niin oli keskustelujen lopputuloksena joka kerta ollut\nmielenmasennus ja ep\u00e4toivo. Min\u00e4 puolestani huomautin, ett\u00e4 jos heid\u00e4t\nsaataisiin t\u00e4nne, niin me t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 miehiss\u00e4 kyll\u00e4 saisimme rakennetuksi\nlaivan. Mutta, sanoin suoraan, uskallanko antaa niin suuren joukon\nvierasta v\u00e4ke\u00e4 tulla t\u00e4nne ja siten kukaties joutua kokonaan heid\u00e4n\nvaltaansa? Kiitollisuushan, min\u00e4 virkoin, valitettavasti ei ole pysyv\u00e4\navu ihmisess\u00e4: etuja odotellessaan h\u00e4n tuntee kiitollisuutta, mutta\nedut saatuaan unohtaa sen. Sanoin kyll\u00e4 tiet\u00e4v\u00e4ni, mill\u00e4 tavoin\nespanjalaiset olivat kohdelleet englantilaisia, ja sen vuoksi olisin\nmieluummin halunnut joutua ihmissy\u00f6j\u00e4in k\u00e4siin kuin katolisten pappien\nja inkvisition armottomiin kouriin.\nEspanjalainen puolestaan selitti yht\u00e4 avomielisesti heid\u00e4n el\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4\nvillien maassa olevan niin viheli\u00e4ist\u00e4, etteiv\u00e4t he ikin\u00e4 saattaisi\npahasti kohdella sit\u00e4, joka auttaisi heid\u00e4t j\u00e4lleen vapauteen. H\u00e4n\nlupasi, jos vain niin toivoin, l\u00e4hte\u00e4 heid\u00e4n luokseen puhumaan asiasta\nja tuoda minulle heid\u00e4n vastauksensa. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n vaatisi heid\u00e4t\njuhlallisesti vannomaan, ett\u00e4 he pit\u00e4isiv\u00e4t minua p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6n\u00e4\u00e4n ja\njohtajanaan ja ehdottomasti tottelisivat minua. Heid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyisi pyhien\nsakramenttien ja evankeliumin nimess\u00e4 valallansa vahvistaa, ett\u00e4\npysyv\u00e4t uskollisina minulle ja suostuvat l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n siihen kristittyyn\nmaahan, mihin min\u00e4 heid\u00e4t vien. H\u00e4n lupasi tuoda nimenomaisen, heid\u00e4n\nallekirjoittamansa sopimuksen. Ensimm\u00e4iseksi h\u00e4n itse vannoi minulle\nuskollisuutta luvaten koko ik\u00e4ns\u00e4 pysy\u00e4 luonani, ellen itse k\u00e4skisi\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 pois, ja sitoutuen puolustamaan minua viimeiseen veripisaraan\nasti, jos niin k\u00e4visi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen maanmiehens\u00e4 rikkoisivat valansa.\nH\u00e4n oli kumminkin vakuuttunut siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he kerran t\u00e4nne p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4\u00e4n\ntahtoisivat el\u00e4\u00e4 ja kuolla minun kanssani. Olivathan he sivistyneit\u00e4\nmiehi\u00e4 kaikki ja siksi paljon puutetta n\u00e4hneet ja kovaa kokeneet,\netteiv\u00e4t mill\u00e4\u00e4n muotoa saattaneet olla kiitt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6mi\u00e4 pelastajaansa\nkohtaan.\nN\u00e4m\u00e4 vakuutukset kuultuani p\u00e4\u00e4tin koettaa pelastaa heid\u00e4t villien\nmaasta ja l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 espanjalaisen ja Perjantain is\u00e4n heid\u00e4n luokseen\nasiasta keskustelemaan. Mutta tuskin oli n\u00e4in p\u00e4\u00e4tetty, kun\nespanjalainen itse huomautti er\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 seikasta, joka siirsi koko\nhankkeen ainakin puolta vuotta tuonnemmaksi. Asia oli n\u00e4in:\nH\u00e4n oli nyt ollut kuukauden p\u00e4iv\u00e4t saaressa ja n\u00e4hnyt, miten min\u00e4\nJumalan avulla olin pit\u00e4nyt huolta elatuksestani. Viljaa ja karjaa h\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ki minulla olevan enemm\u00e4n kuin omiksi tarpeiksi, mutta kuinka\nk\u00e4visi, jos tulisi kuusitoista henke\u00e4 lis\u00e4\u00e4? Ja tarvitaanhan ev\u00e4it\u00e4\nlaivallakin, jos sellainen joskus rakennetaan. Elintarpeita oli siis\nehdottomasti hankittava lis\u00e4\u00e4 ja sit\u00e4 varten oli raivattava uusi\npelto. Uusia tulokkaita, niin h\u00e4n arveli, ei voitaisi ottaa vastaan\nennen kuin ensi sadon j\u00e4lkeen. Muutoin jouduttaisiin ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4\npulaan, ja vierailla olisi silloin kiusaus ruveta valittamaan, ett\u00e4 he\nolivat joutuneet ojasta allikkoon. Niinh\u00e4n, h\u00e4n sanoi, niinh\u00e4n oli\nIsraelin lastenkin laita: he riemuitsivat p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4\u00e4n Egyptin\norjuudesta, mutta napisivat sitten Herraa Jumalaa vastaan siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nolivat tulleet korpeen muka n\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4n kuolemaan.\nNeuvo oli kerrassaan j\u00e4rkev\u00e4, ja sit\u00e4 ryhdyttiin heti noudattamaan. Ei\nkulunut kuukauttakaan, niin jo oli nelj\u00e4n miehen voimalla saatu\nraivatuksi uusi pelto ja kylvetty siihen kaksikolmatta bushelia ohria\nja kuusitoista leilillist\u00e4 riisi\u00e4. Kotitarpeiksi oli tietysti j\u00e4tetty\ntarpeellinen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 kumpaakin. Mets\u00e4st\u00e4 kaadettiin sopivia\nlaivanrakennuspuita, ja niist\u00e4 tehtiin -- samalla vaivalla, vaikka\nsuuremmilla voimilla kuin ennen -- kaksitoista leve\u00e4\u00e4 lankkua,\nviisinelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 jalkaa pitki\u00e4, kaksi jalkaa leveit\u00e4 ja kahden, jopa\nnelj\u00e4n tuuman paksuisia. Minun ei tarvinne korostaa, miten suunnaton\nty\u00f6 siin\u00e4 oli.\nKarjaakin lis\u00e4ttiin. Sit\u00e4 varten k\u00e4ytiin mets\u00e4ll\u00e4, vuoroin Perjantai\nja espanjalainen, vuoroin min\u00e4 Perjantain kanssa. Siell\u00e4 ammuttiin\njoukko em\u00e4vuohia, kilit otettiin el\u00e4vin\u00e4 kiinni ja vietiin sitten\ntarhoihin entisten lis\u00e4ksi.\nPian l\u00e4heni ryp\u00e4leittenkin korjuuaika, ja niit\u00e4 kuivasimme\np\u00e4iv\u00e4npaisteessa suuret m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t. Yhteens\u00e4 olisi niist\u00e4 tullut t\u00e4yteen\nparikymment\u00e4kin tynnyri\u00e4.\nViljasato ei ollut t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa kaikkein parhaimpia, mutta sittenkin\nkorjattiin kahdenkolmatta bushelin kylv\u00f6st\u00e4 kaksisataakaksikymment\u00e4\nbushelia. Meill\u00e4 oli nyt siis riitt\u00e4v\u00e4sti viljaa laivamatkankin\nvaralle. Heti senj\u00e4lkeen rupesimme punomaan suuria koreja, miss\u00e4\ns\u00e4ilytt\u00e4isimme jyv\u00e4t, ja siin\u00e4 ty\u00f6ss\u00e4 oli espanjalainen eritt\u00e4in\ntaitava.\nJa nyt, kun elatusvaroja oli riitt\u00e4v\u00e4sti p\u00e4\u00e4stin espanjalaisen ja\nPerjantain is\u00e4n l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n jo kauan suunnitellulle matkalle. Annoin\nespanjalaiselle nimenomaisen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksen, ettei h\u00e4n saa tuoda t\u00e4nne\nyht\u00e4\u00e4n miest\u00e4, joka ei ensin ole h\u00e4nen ja vanhan villin edess\u00e4\nvannonut ehdotonta uskollisuutta ja kuuliaisuutta minulle. Siit\u00e4 oli\nteht\u00e4v\u00e4 kirjallinen ja kunkin allekirjoittama sitoumus. Miten se\nk\u00e4visi p\u00e4ins\u00e4 paperitta ja musteetta, sit\u00e4 ei tullut silloin kukaan\nmeist\u00e4 ajatelleeksikaan. Annoin sitten kummallekin musketin sek\u00e4\nruutia ja luoteja.\nEv\u00e4it\u00e4 pantiin mukaan heille itselleen ja sit\u00e4 paitsi kuudentoista\nmiehen varalle kahdeksaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi. Sovittiin niinik\u00e4\u00e4n merkist\u00e4,\nmink\u00e4 he paluumatkalla nostavat saarta l\u00e4hestyess\u00e4\u00e4n, jotta heid\u00e4t\ntuntisimme.\nJa niin he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t navakalla tuulella matkaan yhdell\u00e4 niist\u00e4\nkanooteista, joilla olivat t\u00e4nne tulleet tai joissa heid\u00e4t paremminkin\noli t\u00e4nne vankeina tuotu.\nKalenteri oli mennyt sekaisin, mutta otaksuin, ett\u00e4 silloin oli\nlokakuu, ja my\u00f6hemmin asiaa tutkiessani huomasin olleeni oikeassa.\nMielt\u00e4ni ilahdutti t\u00e4m\u00e4n suunnitelman toteutuminen, koska se oli\nensimm\u00e4inen yritys p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pois saarestani seitsem\u00e4\u00e4nkolmatta vuoteen.\nKahdeksastoista luku\nEnglantilainen laiva ankkurissa. -- Purjevene laskee saareen. -- Kolme\nvankia. -- Taisteluja voitto. -- Miten laiva olisi vallattava?\nKahdeksan p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 kului eik\u00e4 matkamiehi\u00e4 viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n kuulunut kotiin.\nMutta silloin sattui kummallinen ja odottamaton tapaus.\nKerran aamulla varhain, ollessani viel\u00e4 sikeimm\u00e4ss\u00e4 unessa, Perjantai\nhy\u00f6kk\u00e4si sis\u00e4\u00e4n huutaen kovalla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4: _Master, master!_ Ne tulee\njo, ne tulee jo!\nHypp\u00e4sin vuoteeltani, sieppasin hiukan vaatetta ylleni ja riensin ulos\nkiiruhtaen varomattomasti kyll\u00e4, suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 viidakon (nyt jo tihe\u00e4n\nmets\u00e4n) halki rantaan, vastoin tapaani aivan aseetonna. Sinne\np\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ni h\u00e4mm\u00e4styin sanomattomasti n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni ulapalla, noin\npuolentoista meripeninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 veneen, joka lampaanlapapurje\npystyss\u00e4 tuli my\u00f6t\u00e4tuulessa t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 vauhtia saarta kohti. Se ei tullut\nsilt\u00e4 puolen, mist\u00e4 olin kanoottiamme odottanut, vaan saaren\netel\u00e4puolelta.\nK\u00e4skin Perjantain pysy\u00e4 piilossa, sill\u00e4 vene oli vieras enk\u00e4 lainkaan\nviel\u00e4 tiennyt, tuliko siin\u00e4 yst\u00e4vi\u00e4 vai vihollisia. Heti sen j\u00e4lkeen\njuoksin hakemaan kiikarini ja kiipesin vuoren huipulle niin kuin\nmonesti ennenkin. Tuskin olin sinne enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt, kun jo huomasin\nkauempana ulapalla laivan, joka oli laskenut ankkurin noin\npuolenkolmatta meripeninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n etel\u00e4kaakkoon. Se n\u00e4kyi olevan\nenglantilainen alus niinkuin venekin oli englantilainen purjevene.\nSekavat tunteet valtasivat minut sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4. Toisaalta olin\nriemuissani n\u00e4hty\u00e4ni laivan, jossa todenn\u00e4k\u00f6isesti oli maanmiehi\u00e4ni,\nsiis yst\u00e4vi\u00e4. Toisaalta taas minussa nousi kaikenlaisia ep\u00e4luuloja --\nties mist\u00e4 syyst\u00e4 -- ja ne vaativat minua olemaan varuillani. Ensiksi\njuolahti mieleeni: mit\u00e4 tekemist\u00e4 englantilaisella laivalla oli n\u00e4ill\u00e4\nseuduilla, jotka eiv\u00e4t olleet edes englantilaisten kauppav\u00e4ylien\nvarrella? Eih\u00e4n \u00e4skett\u00e4in ollut ollut myrsky\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, joka olisi laivan\najanut t\u00e4nne. Jos se todellakin oli englantilainen alus, niin tuskinpa\nse t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 liikkui hyviss\u00e4 aikeissa. Parempi on pysy\u00e4 erakkona\nedelleenkin kuin joutua merirosvojen ja murhamiesten k\u00e4siin.\n\u00c4lk\u00f6\u00f6n ihminen milloinkaan ylenkatsoko salaisia sis\u00e4isi\u00e4 merkkej\u00e4 ja\naavistuksia, joita h\u00e4nelle v\u00e4list\u00e4 annetaan hetkin\u00e4, jolloin h\u00e4n\nkaikista v\u00e4himmin luulee vaaran uhkaavan. Ne ovat varmaankin\ntiedonantoja salatusta maailmasta. Ellen olisi ottanut niit\u00e4 varteen,\nolisin ollut auttamattomasti hukassa, niin kuin lukija saa pian n\u00e4hd\u00e4.\nHetken kuluttua n\u00e4in veneen kulkevan rantoja my\u00f6ten hakien kaiketi\njotain lahdelmaa tai joensuuta, mihin laskisi maihin. Koska vene ei\nkuitenkaan tullut tarpeeksi l\u00e4helle, niin se ei p\u00e4\u00e4ssytk\u00e4\u00e4n siihen\njoensuuhun, johon min\u00e4 ensi kerran olin lauttani laskenut, vaan se j\u00e4i\nrannan hiekalle puolen peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n minusta. Siit\u00e4 olin\nkiitollinen, sill\u00e4 muuten nuo oudot vieraat olisivat nousseet maihin\nmiltei oveni kynnyksell\u00e4 ja aivan varmasti karkottaneet minut\nasunnostani ja ry\u00f6st\u00e4neet kaiken, mit\u00e4 minulla oli.\nMiesten noustua maihin tunsin ainakin useimmat heist\u00e4\nenglantilaisiksi. Pari kolme n\u00e4ytti hollantilaisilta. Kaikkiaan heit\u00e4\noli yksitoista miest\u00e4, kolme aseetonta ja mik\u00e4li osasin p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4,\nedellisten vankeja, sill\u00e4 he n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t tekev\u00e4n kiihkeit\u00e4 liikkeit\u00e4\nk\u00e4sill\u00e4\u00e4n, milloin rukoilevia, milloin ep\u00e4toivoisia. Olin aivan\nymm\u00e4ll\u00e4 enk\u00e4 osannut aavistaakaan, mit\u00e4 heill\u00e4 oli mieless\u00e4. \u00c4kki\u00e4\nPerjantai sanoa tokaisi:\n-- Voi master! Villi mies sy\u00f6 vanki ja englantilainen sy\u00f6 vanki my\u00f6s.\n-- Mit\u00e4? huudahdin min\u00e4. -- Luuletko heid\u00e4n aikovan sy\u00f6d\u00e4 nuo vangit?\n-- Sy\u00f6 ne, sy\u00f6 ne.\n-- Ei Perjantai, eiv\u00e4t he sy\u00f6 vankejaan, mutta pahoin pelk\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 he\naikovat murhata heid\u00e4t.\nPelko kasvoi minussa kasvamistaan, ja vapisin ajatellessani noiden\nkolmen poloisen kohtaloa, varsinkin sen j\u00e4lkeen kun olin huomannut\ner\u00e4\u00e4n noista kahdeksasta merimiehest\u00e4 puukolla uhkaavan yht\u00e4\nvankiansa. Kuinka kaipasinkaan nyt espanjalaista ja Perjantain is\u00e4\u00e4!\nMiehiss\u00e4 me kyll\u00e4 olisimme voineet pelastaa nuo onnettomat, varsinkin\nkun heid\u00e4n vangitsijansa olivat aseettomia. Mutta asiat muuttuivatkin\nitsest\u00e4\u00e4n vangituille edullisiksi.\nHetken kuluttua huomasin merimiesten hajaantuvan eri tahoille: he\nl\u00e4htiv\u00e4t arvatenkin saarta tarkastelemaan. Nuo kolme istahtivat puun\njuurelle murheellisina, ep\u00e4toivoisina. Mieleeni muistui nyt selv\u00e4sti\nse hetki, jolloin itse ensi kertaa olin astunut t\u00e4h\u00e4n saareen t\u00e4ynn\u00e4\nep\u00e4toivoista pelkoa. Niin v\u00e4h\u00e4n tiet\u00e4\u00e4 ihminen tulevista\nkohtaloistaan, mutta joka Luojaansa luottaa, ei joudu hukkaan.\nVene oli laskenut rantaan nousuveden ollessa korkeimmillaan. T\u00e4ll\u00e4\nv\u00e4lin merimiesten kuljeskellessa saaressa vesi oli alkanut taas\nlaskea, niin ett\u00e4 vene ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4i kuivalle maalle. Kaksi miest\u00e4\noli j\u00e4tetty venett\u00e4 vartioimaan, mutta he olivat -- kuten sittemmin\nsain tiet\u00e4\u00e4 -- juoneet itsens\u00e4 humalaan ja nukkuneet. Toinen her\u00e4si\nkuitenkin jonkin ajan kuluttua ja huomattuaan veneen olevan kiinni\nhiekassa h\u00e4n alkoi huutaa ja huhuilla muita. He tulivatkin, mutta vene\noli liian raskas heid\u00e4n liikutella, meren pohja kun t\u00e4ss\u00e4 kohden oli\nliejusavea. Niinp\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t saaneetkaan venett\u00e4ns\u00e4 siirretyksi veden\nrajaan, vaan -- huolettomina kuin merimiehet ainakin -- j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t sen\nsiihen ja l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t nyt kaikki saarta samoilemaan.\n-- Mit\u00e4p\u00e4 sill\u00e4 on v\u00e4li\u00e4, Jack! virkkoi yksi heist\u00e4 menness\u00e4\u00e4n. --\nKelluupahan taas veden pinnalla, kun nousuvesi tulee.\nN\u00e4m\u00e4 sanat sanottiin selv\u00e4ll\u00e4 englanninkielell\u00e4, ja siit\u00e4 tiesin nyt\nvarmasti, mit\u00e4 kansallisuutta merimiehet olivat.\nOlin koko ajan pysytellyt piilossa uskaltamatta l\u00e4hte\u00e4 linnastani\nmuualle kuin vuoren huipulle, jossa my\u00f6s saatoin olla aivan\nn\u00e4kym\u00e4tt\u00f6miss\u00e4. Nousuvesi -- sen tiesin -- palaa vasta kymmenen tunnin\nper\u00e4st\u00e4. Silloin on jo pime\u00e4. Minulla on siis tilaisuus tarkastella\nheid\u00e4n puuhiaan ja kenties kuulla heid\u00e4n puheitaankin. Aloin kuitenkin\nvarustautua taisteluun pit\u00e4en silm\u00e4ll\u00e4 sit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 nyt joutuisin\ntekemisiin toisenlaisten vastustajien kanssa kuin \u00e4skett\u00e4in.\nPerjantain kanssa latasin pyssyt. Itse otin kaksi lintupyssy\u00e4. H\u00e4nen\nhuostaansa j\u00e4tin kolme muskettia. Asuni oli kerrassaan kauhistava:\ntahrainen pukinnahkatakki yll\u00e4, tuuhea karvalakki p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4, kaksi\npistoolia vy\u00f6ll\u00e4, paljas miekka kupeella ja kaksi pyssy\u00e4 olalla.\nAikomukseni oli, kuten jo viittasin, ryhty\u00e4 taisteluun vasta pime\u00e4n\ntultua, mutta kello kahden tienoissa, auringon paahtaessa t\u00e4ydelt\u00e4\nter\u00e4lt\u00e4\u00e4n, huomasin kaikkien merimiesten hajaantuneen mets\u00e4\u00e4n ja\narvatenkin nukahtaneen sinne. Kolme j\u00e4ljelle j\u00e4\u00e4nytt\u00e4 istui yh\u00e4 puun\njuurella, heit\u00e4 ei nukuttanut, poloisia. P\u00e4\u00e4tin silloin menn\u00e4 heid\u00e4n\nluokseen saamaan l\u00e4hempi\u00e4 tietoja heid\u00e4n kohtalostaan. Ja niin l\u00e4hdin\nj\u00e4ljess\u00e4ni Perjantai yht\u00e4 sotaisessa asussa, vaikkei niin kerrassaan\nmets\u00e4npeikon n\u00e4k\u00f6isen\u00e4 kuin is\u00e4nt\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nMenin l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi niin huomaamatta kuin suinkin ja sitten, ennen kuin\nkukaan oli enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt huomata minua, lausuin kovalla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4\nenglanniksi:\n-- Keit\u00e4 olette, hyv\u00e4t herrat?\nHe kavahtivat yl\u00f6s ja n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t sanomattomasti h\u00e4mm\u00e4styneen outoa\nasuani. He eiv\u00e4t saaneet sanaakaan suustaan, vaan olivat juuri\nl\u00e4htem\u00e4isill\u00e4\u00e4n pakoon, kun virkoin heille englanninkielell\u00e4:\n-- \u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4mm\u00e4styk\u00f6, hyv\u00e4t herrat! Teill\u00e4 on kenties yst\u00e4v\u00e4 l\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4\nkuin luulettekaan.\n-- Sitten h\u00e4net on l\u00e4hetetty meille suoraan taivaasta, lausui yksi\nheist\u00e4 vakavasti nostaen samassa hattuansa minulle, sill\u00e4 turhaa olisi\nt\u00e4ss\u00e4 ihmisten apu.\n-- Kaikki apu tulee ylh\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4, vastasin min\u00e4, -- mutta saatatteko\nsanoa, mill\u00e4 keinoin muukalainen voisi olla teille avuksi? N\u00e4yt\u00e4tte\nolevan suuressa h\u00e4d\u00e4ss\u00e4! N\u00e4in teid\u00e4n nousevan maihin, n\u00e4in teid\u00e4n\npyyt\u00e4v\u00e4n jotain noilta tylyilt\u00e4 miehilt\u00e4, n\u00e4inp\u00e4 yhden heist\u00e4 uhkaavan\nteit\u00e4 puukollaankin.\nMies parka, jota puhuttelin, katseli minua h\u00e4mill\u00e4\u00e4n vavisten ja\nkyynelet silmiss\u00e4.\n-- Itse Jumalako minua nyt puhuttelee vai ihminen? h\u00e4n kysyi. --\nTodellinen ihminenk\u00f6 vai enkelik\u00f6?\n-- Olkaa huoleti, _sir!_ min\u00e4 vastasin. -- Jos teid\u00e4n luoksenne olisi\nl\u00e4hetetty enkeli, niin h\u00e4n olisi varmasti ilmestynyt jalommassa\npuvussa, ja h\u00e4nell\u00e4 olisi ollut toisenlaiset aseetkin kuin minulla.\nIhminen min\u00e4 vain olen, englantilainen, ja valmis auttamaan teit\u00e4.\nNiinkuin n\u00e4ette, ei minulla ole kuin yksi palvelija mukanani. Aseita\nmeill\u00e4 on ja ampumavaroja my\u00f6s. Sanokaa suoraan, voiko meist\u00e4 olla\nteille mit\u00e4\u00e4n apua? Millainen on teid\u00e4n tilanne?\n-- Tarinamme on liian pitk\u00e4, virkkoi puhuteltu, -- ja murhamiehet\nliian l\u00e4hell\u00e4. Siis muutama sana vain. Olen tuon laivan kapteeni.\nLaivav\u00e4keni nousi kapinaan minua vastaan. He p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t murhata minut,\nja t\u00f6in tuskin heid\u00e4t saatiin suostumaan siihen, ett\u00e4 he j\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4t\nminut t\u00e4h\u00e4n autioon saareen, minut ja n\u00e4m\u00e4 kaksi miest\u00e4, joista toinen\noli alikapteenini ja toinen matkustaja. Me emme voineet odottaa muuta\nkuin ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyy kuolla t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, sill\u00e4 emmeh\u00e4n tienneet saaren\nolevan asuttu.\n-- Miss\u00e4 ovat nuo konnat, teid\u00e4n vihollisenne? kys\u00e4isin min\u00e4. --\nTied\u00e4ttek\u00f6 minne he ovat menneet?\n-- Tuolla he makaavat, sir, h\u00e4n vastasi viitaten tiheikk\u00f6\u00f6n mets\u00e4ss\u00e4.\n-- Syd\u00e4meni vapisee pelosta, ett\u00e4 he ovat n\u00e4hneet teid\u00e4t ja kuulleet\nteid\u00e4n puhuvan. Ja jos niin on, silloin he murhaavat meid\u00e4t joka\nmiehen.\n-- Onko heill\u00e4 aseita?\n-- Kaksi pyssy\u00e4 vain. Niist\u00e4 toinen on j\u00e4tetty veneeseen.\n-- No niin, min\u00e4 sanoin, -- j\u00e4tt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 loput minun huolekseni. He\nn\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4t nyt nukkuvan, ja helppoa olisi ampua heid\u00e4t siihen paikkaan\nkaikki, mutta eik\u00f6h\u00e4n olisi parempi vangita heid\u00e4t?\nKapteeni kertoi kahden heist\u00e4 olevan paatuneita konnia, joille tuskin\nkannattaisi antaa armoa, mutta jos heid\u00e4t saataisiin vangituksi, niin\nmuut varmaankin palaisivat pahoilta teilt\u00e4\u00e4n. Kysyin ketk\u00e4 nuo kaksi\nolivat. H\u00e4n ei sanonut voivansa erottaa heit\u00e4 n\u00e4in pitk\u00e4n matkan\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4, mutta lupasi kaikessa noudattaa m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksi\u00e4ni heid\u00e4n\nkiinnisaamisekseen.\n-- Hyv\u00e4, sanoin min\u00e4. -- Nyt vet\u00e4ydymme syrj\u00e4\u00e4n, niin etteiv\u00e4t he n\u00e4e\neiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 kuule mit\u00e4\u00e4n, ja mietimme miten menetell\u00e4.\nJa niin me per\u00e4ydyimme, kunnes p\u00e4\u00e4simme kokonaan mets\u00e4n suojaan.\n-- Kuulkaahan nyt, _sir_, min\u00e4 lausuin kapteenille. -- Jos min\u00e4 oman\nhenkeni uhalla ryhdyn pelastamaan teit\u00e4, lupaatteko suostua kahteen\nehtoon?\nH\u00e4n enn\u00e4tti edelleni vakuuttaen, ett\u00e4 niin h\u00e4n kuin h\u00e4nen laivansakin,\njos se saadaan takaisin, on oleva kokonaan minun k\u00e4ytett\u00e4viss\u00e4ni,\nmutta ellei sit\u00e4 saada, niin h\u00e4n tahtoo el\u00e4\u00e4 ja kuolla minun kanssani\nmiss\u00e4 maan\u00e4\u00e4ress\u00e4 vain mielin. Samoin vakuuttivat h\u00e4nen\nseuralaisensakin.\n-- Hyv\u00e4, min\u00e4 vastasin. -- Minulla on vain kaksi ehtoa. Ensiksi: niin\nkauan kuin asutte t\u00e4ll\u00e4 saarella, on teid\u00e4n pidett\u00e4v\u00e4 minua\nylip\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6n\u00e4nne. Jos annan aseita k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4ksenne, niin ne on aina\nannettava minulle takaisin! Te ette jaa omistusoikeuttani t\u00e4h\u00e4n\nsaareen, joten se kuuluu yh\u00e4 edelleen minulle. Sallin teid\u00e4n tietysti\nj\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4n saarelle. Toiseksi: jos laiva saadaan takaisin, niin teid\u00e4n on\nmaksutta viet\u00e4v\u00e4 minut ja palvelijani Englantiin.\nH\u00e4n vakuutti minulle niin lujasti ja luotettavasti kuin kunnon mies\nikin\u00e4 voi vakuuttaa olevansa valmis t\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n kohtuulliset ehtoni ja\nsit\u00e4paitsi altis palvelemaan minua koko ik\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n-- Niinp\u00e4 sitten, sanoin min\u00e4, -- t\u00e4ss\u00e4 on teille musketti mieheen\nsek\u00e4 ruutia ja luoteja. Sanokaa nyt, mit\u00e4 teid\u00e4n mielest\u00e4nne olisi\nensiksi teht\u00e4v\u00e4.\nKiitollisena h\u00e4n otti vastaan aseet, mutta sanoi tahtovansa noudattaa\nminun m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksi\u00e4ni. Minun mielest\u00e4ni olisi parasta ampua kapinalliset\nheid\u00e4n lev\u00e4tess\u00e4\u00e4n mets\u00e4ss\u00e4. Kuka silloin j\u00e4isi henkiin ja lupaisi\nantautua, se armahdettaisiin. Sallimus itse siis m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4tk\u00f6\u00f6n luotien\nsuunnan. Kapteeni sanoi siihen, ettei h\u00e4n puolestaan tahtoisi miehi\u00e4\nsurmata, jos sen suinkin voisi v\u00e4ltt\u00e4\u00e4, vaikka heid\u00e4n joukossaan\nolikin nuo kaksi perinpohjaista konnaa, koko kapinan alkuunpanijat.\nJos he p\u00e4\u00e4sisiv\u00e4t pakoon, niin hukka meid\u00e4t perisi joka miehen: he\npalaisivat laivalle ja toisivat sielt\u00e4 koko laivav\u00e4en meit\u00e4 tuhoamaan.\n-- No niin, min\u00e4 sanoin, -- tilanne on sellainen, ett\u00e4 voimme pelastaa\nhenkemme vain, jos toimimme minun suunnitelmani mukaan.\nKoska h\u00e4n kuitenkin yh\u00e4 edelleen n\u00e4ytti kammoavan verenvuodatusta,\nj\u00e4tin h\u00e4nen kahden toverinsa valtaan tehd\u00e4, mink\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ksi n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t.\nKesken kaiken n\u00e4kyi pari miest\u00e4 her\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4n ja kavahtavan pystyyn. Kysyin\nolivatko he yllytt\u00e4ji\u00e4. -- Eiv\u00e4t, vastasi kapteeni. -- P\u00e4\u00e4sk\u00f6\u00f6t\nsitten, min\u00e4 sanoin, -- p\u00e4\u00e4sk\u00f6\u00f6t karkuun. Itse Sallimus n\u00e4kyy tahtovan\ns\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4n henkens\u00e4, koska her\u00e4tti heid\u00e4t ennen muita. Mutta jos\nnuo toisetkin p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4t pakoon, niin syy on teid\u00e4n.\nT\u00e4st\u00e4 rohkaistuneena h\u00e4n otti musketin k\u00e4teens\u00e4, pisti pistoolin\nvy\u00f6h\u00f6ns\u00e4 ja l\u00e4hti miehi\u00e4 kohti kahden toverinsa kanssa, joilla\nkummallakin oli musketti k\u00e4dess\u00e4. He eiv\u00e4t kuitenkaan osanneet kulkea\naivan hiljaa, ja siit\u00e4 oli seurauksena, ett\u00e4 toinen her\u00e4nneist\u00e4\nmerimiehist\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi taakseen ja huomattuaan tulijat huusi muutkin\nhereille. Mutta se oli liian my\u00f6h\u00e4ist\u00e4, sill\u00e4 samassa kun h\u00e4n huusi,\nkapteenin toveritkin laukaisivat muskettinsa. Kapteeni oli varovasti\nkyll\u00e4 s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4nyt laukauksensa viimeiseksi. Ensinmainitut olivat\nt\u00e4hd\u00e4nneet kumpikin niin tarkasti joukon johtajiin, ett\u00e4 toinen n\u00e4ist\u00e4\nkuoli heti, toinen haavoittui. J\u00e4lkimm\u00e4inen hypp\u00e4si pystyyn ja alkoi\nhuutaa tovereitaan avuksi, mutta kapteeni meni h\u00e4nen luokseen sanoen,\nett\u00e4 nyt oli jo liian my\u00f6h\u00e4ist\u00e4 kutsua apua, vaan parasta oli pyyt\u00e4\u00e4\nJumalalta anteeksi pahoja tekojaan. Sen sanottuaan h\u00e4n l\u00f6i h\u00e4net\npyssyn per\u00e4ll\u00e4 maahan, niin ettei toinen en\u00e4\u00e4 \u00e4\u00e4nn\u00e4ht\u00e4nytk\u00e4\u00e4n. Samassa\ntulin min\u00e4kin paikalle.\nJoukossa oli viel\u00e4 kolme muuta miest\u00e4, yksi n\u00e4ist\u00e4 liev\u00e4sti\nhaavoittunut, mutta huomattuaan, ettei vastustaminen en\u00e4\u00e4 auta, he\nalkoivat rukoilla armoa. Kapteeni lupasi s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4n henkens\u00e4, jos\nhe katuisivat kapinoimistaan ja vannoisivat koettavansa uskollisesti\nauttaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 saamaan laivan j\u00e4lleen valtaansa. Pyh\u00e4sti miehet silloin\nvannoivat t\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4 h\u00e4nen vaatimuksensa, ja kapteeni puolestaan\nlupasi j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4t henkiin. Siihen min\u00e4kin suostuin, kuitenkin sill\u00e4\nehdolla, ett\u00e4 miehet sidotaan k\u00e4sist\u00e4 ja jaloista siksi aikaa kun he\novat saarella.\nSitten l\u00e4hetin Perjantain ja alikapteenin rantaan viem\u00e4\u00e4n veneen\ntalteen ja ottamaan airot ja purjeet siit\u00e4 pois. Jonkin ajan kuluttua\npalasi mets\u00e4st\u00e4 viel\u00e4 kolme merimiest\u00e4, jotka kuultuaan\npyssynlaukaukset riensiv\u00e4t paikalle. N\u00e4hty\u00e4\u00e4n nyt kapteenin, entisen\nvankinsa, olevan herrana ja k\u00e4skij\u00e4n\u00e4, heid\u00e4n ei auttanut muu kuin\nantautua armoille ja suostua sidottaviksi. Meid\u00e4n voittomme oli siis\nt\u00e4ydellinen. Jotakin juotuamme ja sy\u00f6ty\u00e4mme aloimme mietti\u00e4, miten\nsaisimme laivan vallatuksi. Kapteeni ei tiet\u00e4nyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n keinoa.\n-- Laivassa, selitti h\u00e4n, -- on viel\u00e4 kuusikolmatta miest\u00e4, jotka\nkyll\u00e4 tiet\u00e4v\u00e4t tehneens\u00e4 hengenrikoksen noustuaan laivalla kapinaan\np\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6\u00e4ns\u00e4 vastaan ja joutuvansa hirsipuuhun Englannissa tai\nensimm\u00e4isess\u00e4 englantilaisessa satamassa. Siksi he puolustautuvat\nep\u00e4toivon vimmalla viimeiseen saakka. Heit\u00e4 vastaan emme voi hy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4\nn\u00e4in v\u00e4hill\u00e4 voimilla.\nKapteeni oli oikeassa mielest\u00e4ni, mutta nopeaa toimintaa t\u00e4ss\u00e4\ntarvittiin. Meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi jollakin keinoin saada laivav\u00e4ki ansaan,\nennenkuin he miehiss\u00e4 hy\u00f6kk\u00e4isiv\u00e4t meid\u00e4n kimppuumme. Varmaa oli, ett\u00e4\nlaivallaolijat kummastelivat toveriensa viipymist\u00e4, l\u00e4htisiv\u00e4t ennen\npitk\u00e4\u00e4 toisella veneell\u00e4 heit\u00e4 hakemaan ja nousisivat maihin ties\nkuinka lujasti varustettuina ja kuinka suurella joukolla. Sen vuoksi\noli mielest\u00e4ni rannalla oleva purjevene teht\u00e4v\u00e4 k\u00e4ytt\u00f6kelvottomaksi,\netteiv\u00e4t kapinalliset sill\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sisi palaamaan laivalle. Niinp\u00e4\nmenimmekin rantaan ja otimme veneest\u00e4 sinne j\u00e4tetyt aseet sek\u00e4 muut\ntavarat, nimitt\u00e4in pullon viinaa, toisen rommia, laivakorppuja,\nruutisarven ja viisi, kuusi naulaa sokeria, jotka kaikki olivat\nminulle sangen tervetullutta tavaraa.\nViety\u00e4mme n\u00e4m\u00e4 maihin, jonne Perjantai alikapteenin kanssa jo \u00e4sken\noli piilottanut airot, per\u00e4simen ja purjeet, puhkaisimme purjeveneen\npohjaan suuren rei\u00e4n. Vaikka laivasta nyt tulisikin lis\u00e4\u00e4 miehi\u00e4\nmaihin, he eiv\u00e4t voisi k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 venett\u00e4 laivaan palatessaan. Tosin en\njaksanut toivoa, ett\u00e4 saisimme laivan valtaamme. Ennemmin tai\nmy\u00f6hemmin, arvelin min\u00e4, se purjehtisi tiehens\u00e4, mutta silloin me\nkorjaisimme purjeveneen ja p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme sill\u00e4 villien maahan.\nYhdeks\u00e4stoista luku\nSaarelle saapuu toinenkin purjevene. -- Onnistunut sotajuoni. --\nKahdeksan uutta vankia.\nVedetty\u00e4mme purjeveneen maalle nousuveden rajan yl\u00e4puolelle istahdimme\nrannalle miettim\u00e4\u00e4n, mit\u00e4 nyt olisi teht\u00e4v\u00e4. \u00c4kki\u00e4 kuului laivalta\ntykinlaukaus, ja samassa vedettiin mastoon lippu merkiksi siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4\npurjeveneen oli tultava takaisin. Mutta kun venett\u00e4 ei n\u00e4kynyt eik\u00e4\nkuulunut, seurasi useampia laukauksia ja monenlaisia merkkej\u00e4.\nVihdoin, kun mist\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4skyist\u00e4 ei ollut apua, laskettiin laivasta\ntoinen vene vesille -- sen n\u00e4in kiikarillani -- ja se l\u00e4hti heti\nsoutamaan saarta kohti. Veneess\u00e4 oli kymmenen ampuma-asein varustettua\nmiest\u00e4.\nPakovesi vei veneen hiukan syrj\u00e4\u00e4n entisen purjeveneen paikasta, niin\nett\u00e4 miesten t\u00e4ytyi soutaa jonkin matkaa aivan l\u00e4hell\u00e4 rantaa. He\nmeniv\u00e4t ohitsemme niin l\u00e4helt\u00e4, ett\u00e4 hyvin erotimme heid\u00e4n kasvonsa.\nKapteeni tunsi heid\u00e4t jokaisen ja sanoi joukossa olevan my\u00f6s kolme\nkunnon miest\u00e4, jotka vain muitten yllytt\u00e4min\u00e4 ja pelottamina olivat\nyhtyneet kapinaan, mutta per\u00e4mies, joka n\u00e4kyi olevan p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6n\u00e4, ja\nmuut olivat paatunutta v\u00e4ke\u00e4. Siksi kapteeni pelk\u00e4si, ettei meist\u00e4\nolisi heid\u00e4n kukistajikseen. Siihen min\u00e4 huomautin, ett\u00e4 kun ihminen\nkerran on joutunut sellaiseen tilanteeseen kuin me, niin h\u00e4nen on\nturhaa en\u00e4\u00e4 pel\u00e4t\u00e4, koska se ei t\u00e4m\u00e4n vaikeammaksi voisi en\u00e4\u00e4 tulla.\nMeill\u00e4 ei ollut kuin kaksi mahdollisuutta: voittaa tai kuolla.\n-- Yksi seikka minua vain huolestuttaa, min\u00e4 lis\u00e4sin, -- se nimitt\u00e4in,\nett\u00e4 noiden joukossa on kolme, nelj\u00e4 kunnon miest\u00e4, jotka pit\u00e4isi\nsaada pelastetuksi. Jos he olisivat yht\u00e4 suuria konnia kaikki, niin\nuskoisin Jumalan m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4nneen heid\u00e4t joutumaan meid\u00e4n k\u00e4siimme, sill\u00e4\nsaatte olla varma siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kuka ikin\u00e4 t\u00e4h\u00e4n saareen saapuu, h\u00e4n on\nmeid\u00e4n vallassamme! H\u00e4n kuolee tai j\u00e4\u00e4 eloon riippuen siit\u00e4, miten h\u00e4n\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytyy meit\u00e4 kohtaan.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 n\u00e4kyi rohkaisevan kapteenin mielt\u00e4, ja entist\u00e4 tarmokkaammin\nvalmistuttiin nyt taisteluun.\nHeti kun olimme n\u00e4hneet toisen veneen l\u00e4htev\u00e4n saarta kohti, olimme\nvieneet vangitut turvas\u00e4il\u00f6\u00f6n. Kaksi pahinta, joihin kapteeni kaikista\nv\u00e4himm\u00e4n luotti, l\u00e4hetettiin saaren toisessa p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 olevaan luolaan,\nvartijoina Perjantai ja yksi \u00e4skeisist\u00e4 vangeista vapautettu merimies.\nLuola oli niin kaukana, ettei heit\u00e4 sielt\u00e4 kukaan olisi osannut menn\u00e4\netsim\u00e4\u00e4n. Sinne Perjantai vei heid\u00e4t sidottuina ja j\u00e4tti heille\nl\u00e4htiess\u00e4\u00e4n ruokatavaroita ja kynttil\u00f6it\u00e4. Jos he pysyv\u00e4t siell\u00e4\nhiljaa ja rauhallisina -- sellaiset ehdot Perjantai heille antoi, niin\nhe p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4t parin p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua pois, mutta jos yritt\u00e4v\u00e4tk\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00e4hte\u00e4\nkarkuun, niin heid\u00e4t ammutaan siihen paikkaan. Vangit vakuuttivat\npysyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 n\u00f6yr\u00e4sti luolassa, he kun sit\u00e4 paitsi luulivat, ett\u00e4 luolan\nsuulle oli pantu vartijat. Muista vangeista pidettiin kaksi sidottuna\npiilossa l\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4 linnaa. Toiset kaksi p\u00e4\u00e4stettiin vapaaksi ja\notettiin meid\u00e4n joukkoomme, sen j\u00e4lkeen kun he olivat juhlallisesti\nluvanneet el\u00e4\u00e4 ja kuolla yhdess\u00e4 meid\u00e4n kanssamme.\nN\u00e4in meit\u00e4 oli yhteens\u00e4 seitsem\u00e4n lujasti aseilla varustettua miest\u00e4.\nEn lainkaan en\u00e4\u00e4 ep\u00e4illyt, ettemme nyt kykenisi pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n puoliamme\ntulossa olevaa kymment\u00e4 miest\u00e4 vastaan, varsinkin kun kapteeni tiesi\nheid\u00e4n joukossaan olevan kolme, nelj\u00e4 luotettavaa miest\u00e4.\nHeti kun uudet tulokkaat olivat saapuneet ensimm\u00e4isen purjeveneen\nkohdalle, he laskivat rantaan ja vetiv\u00e4t veneens\u00e4 hiekalle. Siit\u00e4 olin\nhyvill\u00e4ni, koska olin jo pel\u00e4nnyt heid\u00e4n heitt\u00e4v\u00e4n ankkurin ja\nj\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4n vartijoita veneeseen. Ensi ty\u00f6kseen he riensiv\u00e4t toisen\nveneen luo, mutta suuri oli heid\u00e4n h\u00e4mm\u00e4styksens\u00e4, kun he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t,\nett\u00e4 se oli aivan tyhj\u00e4 ja ett\u00e4 sen pohjassa oli reik\u00e4. He ampuivat\nsilloin pari, kolme yhteislaukausta ja rupesivat huutamaan ja\nhuhuilemaan tovereitaan, mutta turhaan. Sama temppu uudistettiin,\nmutta yht\u00e4 huonolla menestyksell\u00e4, sill\u00e4 luolassa olijat eiv\u00e4t voineet\nheit\u00e4 kuulla ja toiset taas eiv\u00e4t uskaltaneet vastata.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 kummastutti vastatulleita niin, ett\u00e4 he -- kuten j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in sain\ntiet\u00e4\u00e4 -- p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t niine hyvineen palata laivalle takaisin\nilmoittamaan, ett\u00e4 toverit oli saaressa murhattu ja heid\u00e4n\npurjeveneens\u00e4 ly\u00f6ty rikki. Ja he ty\u00f6nsiv\u00e4t todellakin veneens\u00e4 vesille\nja astuivat siihen.\nKapteenille tuli nyt h\u00e4t\u00e4: h\u00e4n arveli, ett\u00e4 nyt he soutaisivat\ntakaisin, laiva nostaisi ankkurin ja purjehtisi tiehens\u00e4, ja niin se\nj\u00e4isi meilt\u00e4 valloittamatta. Mutta ei aikaakaan, niin h\u00e4n sai jo muita\npelon syit\u00e4.\nVene ei ollut enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt viel\u00e4 kauaksikaan, kun miehet n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t\nmuuttaneen p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6ksens\u00e4. He palasivat takaisin maihin ja j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t kolme\nmiest\u00e4 veneen vartijoiksi. Se oli suuri pettymys meille, sill\u00e4 mit\u00e4\nhy\u00f6ty\u00e4 meille siit\u00e4 olisi, vaikka saisimmekin nuo seitsem\u00e4n miest\u00e4\nvangiksi, jos muut kuitenkin p\u00e4\u00e4sisiv\u00e4t k\u00e4sist\u00e4mme? He palaisivat\nlaivalle, ja laiva olisi silloin mennyt meilt\u00e4 i\u00e4ksi. Meid\u00e4n ei\nauttanut muu kuin j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 odottamaan, mihin suuntaan asiat alkaisivat\nkehitty\u00e4.\nVartijat ty\u00f6nsiv\u00e4t veneen j\u00e4lleen vesille ja laskivat ankkurinsa niin\nkaukana rannasta, ettemme voineet ajatellakaan p\u00e4\u00e4sy\u00e4 veneen luokse.\nMuut seitsem\u00e4n l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t miehiss\u00e4 kulkemaan kohti l\u00e4hell\u00e4 linnaa olevaa\nvuorta. N\u00e4imme heid\u00e4t selv\u00e4sti, vaikka itse olimmekin n\u00e4kym\u00e4tt\u00f6miss\u00e4.\nM\u00e4en huipulle p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4\u00e4n he alkoivat taas huutaa ja huhuilla\ntovereitaan, kunnes vihdoin uupuneina ker\u00e4\u00e4ntyiv\u00e4t puun juurelle,\nn\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti neuvottelemaan. Kapteeni ehdotti silloin, ett\u00e4 jos he,\nniinkuin oli luultavaa, viel\u00e4 kerran ampuvat yhteislaukauksen,\nhy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4mme heid\u00e4n kimppuunsa ja vangitsemme heid\u00e4t, ennen kuin he\nenn\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4t uudestaan ladata. Neuvo oli mielest\u00e4ni sangen j\u00e4rkev\u00e4; paha\nvain, ettei heid\u00e4n laukauksestaan tullut mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Siin\u00e4 he yh\u00e4 istuivat\nyht\u00e4 neuvottomina.\nHuomasin ettei meid\u00e4n kannattanut ryhty\u00e4 hy\u00f6kk\u00e4ysvalmisteluihin ennen\npime\u00e4n tuloa. Elleiv\u00e4t he palaisi rannalle, asettuisimme heid\u00e4n ja\nveneen v\u00e4liin. P\u00e4\u00e4timme my\u00f6s keksi\u00e4 jonkinlaisen sotajuonen, jolla\nsaisimme veneen houkutelluksi rantaan. K\u00e4rsim\u00e4tt\u00f6min\u00e4 odottelimme\njonkin aikaa, kunnes n\u00e4imme heid\u00e4n pitk\u00e4n keskustelun j\u00e4lkeen nousevan\nilmeisesti aikoen marssia rantaa kohti. Harmillista. Heist\u00e4 oli\nkaiketi saaressa oleminen alkanut n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 niin vaaralliselta, ett\u00e4 he\nolivat p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neet kumppaniensa kohtalosta en\u00e4\u00e4 v\u00e4litt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 palata\ntakaisin laivalle ja purjehtia pois n\u00e4ilt\u00e4 mailta.\nKapteeni oli aivan masentunut. Mutta silloin v\u00e4l\u00e4hti mieleeni varsin\nonnistunut sotajuoni. L\u00e4hetin Perjantain ja alikapteenin joen yli\nl\u00e4nteen p\u00e4in sille rannalle, minne Perjantai oli ensi kertaa tuotu\nvankina, ja k\u00e4skin heid\u00e4n tarkoin noudattaa k\u00e4sky\u00e4ni: tultuaan noin\npuolen peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 meist\u00e4 olevalle m\u00e4elle huutakoot niin kovaa\nkuin suinkin ja kuultuaan toisten vastaavan siirtyk\u00f6\u00f6t heid\u00e4n\nhuomaamattaan saaren sis\u00e4osiin ja alkakoot uudestaan huhuilla. Toisten\nvastattua menk\u00f6\u00f6t yh\u00e4 kauemmas, kunnes saavat heid\u00e4t houkutelluksi\nniin syv\u00e4lle mets\u00e4n helmaan kuin mahdollista. Sen tehty\u00e4\u00e4n palatkoot\n\u00e4\u00e4neti meid\u00e4n luoksemme.\nMiehet olivat juuri astumassa veneeseens\u00e4, kun Perjantain ja\nalikapteenin ensimm\u00e4inen huuto kajahti. He vastasivat heti ja l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t\njuoksemaan \u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohti. Mutta heill\u00e4 oli edess\u00e4 joki. Sen huomattuaan\nhe huusivat veneess\u00e4 oleville miehille, ett\u00e4 n\u00e4m\u00e4 tulisivat soutamaan\nheid\u00e4t toiselle rannalle. Sit\u00e4 juuri olin toivonutkin.\nVene saapui, vei heid\u00e4t yli ja asettui pieneen poukamaan joen\nrannalle, jossa se sidottiin puuhun kiinni. Miehet l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t nyt\nhuutoja kohti otettuaan yhden venemiehist\u00e4 lis\u00e4ksi joukkoonsa, niin\nettei venett\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4nyt vartioimaan kuin kaksi miest\u00e4. J\u00e4tt\u00e4en nyt\nPerjantain ja alikapteenin jatkamaan teht\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 me muut l\u00e4hdimme\nliikkeelle, menimme joen yli kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n huomaamatta ja astuimme \u00e4kki\u00e4\nvartijain eteen, joista toinen loikoi rannalla, toinen istui veneess\u00e4.\nEdellinen oli puolitorkuksissa ja meid\u00e4t n\u00e4hty\u00e4\u00e4n kavahti pystyyn,\nmutta kapteeni, joka kulki edell\u00e4 hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohti ja yhdell\u00e4\niskulla kaatoi h\u00e4net maahan huutaen samalla veneess\u00e4 olevalle, ett\u00e4\nellei t\u00e4m\u00e4 antaudu, niin h\u00e4n on kuoleman oma. Tuon yksin\u00e4isen ei\nauttanut muu kuin totella, kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kumppaninsa kaatuneen ja viisi\naseellista miest\u00e4 edess\u00e4\u00e4n. H\u00e4n oli sit\u00e4 paitsi yksi niist\u00e4 kolmesta,\njotka v\u00e4kisin oli saatu kapinaan osallisiksi. H\u00e4n ei antautunut vain\nvangiksi, vaan tuli kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4\u00e4n meid\u00e4n puolellemme. Jonkin\najan kuluttua Perjantai ja alikapteeni palasivat perin v\u00e4synein\u00e4.\nHeid\u00e4n teht\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4 oli onnistunut. He olivat saaneet laivamiehet\nhoukutelluksi m\u00e4elt\u00e4 m\u00e4elle ja metsik\u00f6st\u00e4 toiseen niin kauas, ettei\nheit\u00e4 voitaisi odottaa t\u00e4nne ennen pime\u00e4n tuloa.\nKului useita tunteja. V\u00e4hitellen alkoi mets\u00e4st\u00e4 kuulua \u00e4\u00e4ni\u00e4: edell\u00e4\nkulkeva mies huuteli j\u00e4ljess\u00e4 tulijoille kiirehtien heit\u00e4 joutumaan,\nmihin toiset valittivat olevansa kovin v\u00e4syksiss\u00e4. T\u00e4m\u00e4 sopi hyvin\nsuunnitelmiimme. Vihdoin he saapuivat veneens\u00e4 luo. Mutta kuka osaisi\nkuvailla heid\u00e4n h\u00e4mm\u00e4styst\u00e4\u00e4n, kun he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t veneens\u00e4 olevan kuivalla\nmaalla, sill\u00e4 nyt oli pakoveden aika, ja vartijain kadonneen. Siin\u00e4 he\nsitten valittelivat ja vaikeroivat toisilleen sangen surkealla\n\u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4, ett\u00e4 olivat muka tulleet noiduttuun saareen; t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 oli\nvarmaankin asukkaita, jotka surmaavat heid\u00e4t joka miehen, tai pahoja\nhenki\u00e4, ja hukka heid\u00e4t siin\u00e4kin tapauksessa perii. Niin he\np\u00e4ivitteliv\u00e4t tuon tuostakin huudellen kahta kadonnutta vartijaansa\nmutta turhaan. Illan h\u00e4m\u00e4riss\u00e4 me n\u00e4imme heid\u00e4n ep\u00e4toivoissaan\njuoksentelevan pitkin rantoja k\u00e4si\u00e4\u00e4n v\u00e4\u00e4nnellen, v\u00e4list\u00e4 istahtaen\nveneeseen lep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ja hetken kuluttua taas kavahtaen siit\u00e4 pois.\nV\u00e4keni olisi heti tahtonut hy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4 heid\u00e4n kimppuunsa, mutta en\nsallinut sit\u00e4, koska aikomukseni oli saada nuo roistot kiinni\n\u00e4kkin\u00e4isell\u00e4 yll\u00e4tyksell\u00e4 v\u00e4ltt\u00e4\u00e4kseni tarpeetonta verenvuodatusta\nniin paljon kuin mahdollista. Omiakin miehi\u00e4 tahdoin suojella\ntiet\u00e4ess\u00e4ni, kuinka hyvin varustettuja viholliset olivat. Hiljaa\nl\u00e4hestyimme heit\u00e4. Perjantain ja kapteenin k\u00e4skin hiipi\u00e4 edell\u00e4 yh\u00e4\nl\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi heit\u00e4 ja laukaista vasta sitten, kun varmasti osuisivat.\nEi kest\u00e4nytk\u00e4\u00e4n kauan ennen kuin per\u00e4mies, kapinan alkuunpanija ja nyt\nrohkeutensa kokonaan menett\u00e4nyt raukka, alkoi kahden merimiehen kanssa\nkulkea heit\u00e4 kohti. Kapteeni olisi tahtonut laukaista heti, kun oli\nkuullut tuon pahimman roiston \u00e4\u00e4nen, niin kovin kiihkoissaan h\u00e4n oli,\nmutta jaksoi sent\u00e4\u00e4n hillit\u00e4 mielens\u00e4. Tuokion kuluttua tulikin\nper\u00e4mies kahden seuralaisensa kanssa tarpeeksi l\u00e4helle, ja silloin\nkavahtivat kapteeni ja Perjantai pystyyn ja laukaisivat. Per\u00e4mies\nkaatui heti hengett\u00f6m\u00e4n\u00e4 maahan ja toinen seuralaisista sai pahan\nhaavan ja kuoli parin tunnin per\u00e4st\u00e4. Kolmas juoksi pakoon. Laukaukset\nkuultuani riensin muun joukkoni kanssa paikalle, ja nyt oli meit\u00e4\nyhteens\u00e4 kahdeksan miest\u00e4, mutta vihollinen ei pime\u00e4ss\u00e4 voinut n\u00e4hd\u00e4\nlukuamme.\nViimeksi saamamme vangin, joka oli vapaaehtoisesti liittynyt meihin,\npanin nyt keskustelemaan vihollisen kanssa siin\u00e4 toivossa, ett\u00e4 se\nantautuisi ilman verenvuodatusta. Asia onnistuikin. Meid\u00e4n vankimme\nhuusi kovalla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4:\n-- Tom Smith! Tom Smith!\n-- Sin\u00e4k\u00f6 siell\u00e4, John? kysyi Tom Smith.\n-- Niin olen. Laskekaa Jumalan t\u00e4hden aseenne maahan ja antautukaa,\nmuuten olette kuoleman omat joka mies.\n-- Kenelle meid\u00e4n pit\u00e4isi antautua? Keit\u00e4 ne ovat?\n-- T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 on meid\u00e4n kapteenimme ja h\u00e4nell\u00e4 on viisikymment\u00e4 miest\u00e4,\njotka jo kaksi tuntia ovat ajaneet teit\u00e4 takaa. Per\u00e4mies on saanut\nsurmansa, Will Fry on haavoittunut, min\u00e4 olen vankina. Hukka teid\u00e4t\nperii, ellette antaudu.\n-- Armahdetaanko meid\u00e4t? kys\u00e4isi taas Tom Smith. -- Sill\u00e4 ehdolla me\nantaudumme.\n-- Min\u00e4 k\u00e4yn kysym\u00e4ss\u00e4, vastasi John. Silloin kapteeni astui esiin\nlausuen:\n-- Smith! Sin\u00e4 tunnet minun \u00e4\u00e4neni. Jos heit\u00e4tte aseenne ja j\u00e4t\u00e4tte\nitsenne meid\u00e4n k\u00e4siimme, niin saatte armon kaikki paitsi Will Atkins.\nSilloin kuului Will Atkinsin surkea \u00e4\u00e4ni:\n-- Jumalan t\u00e4hden, kapteeni, armahtakaa minutkin! Mit\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen\ntehnyt? Yht\u00e4 kehnoja ovat olleet muutkin.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 ei ollut totta, sill\u00e4 Will Atkins oli kapinan puhjettua\nensimm\u00e4isen\u00e4 k\u00e4ynyt kapteeniin k\u00e4siksi ja sitonut h\u00e4net, kohdellut\nraa'asti ja s\u00e4ttinyt h\u00e4nt\u00e4. Kapteeni vastasi, ett\u00e4 Atkinsin t\u00e4ytyi\nehdottomasti antautua kuvern\u00f6\u00f6rin armoille. Kuvern\u00f6\u00f6rill\u00e4 h\u00e4n\ntarkoitti minua.\nSilloin he laskivat aseensa maahan armoa rukoillen. L\u00e4hetin Johnin ja\nkaksi muuta miest\u00e4 sitomaan heid\u00e4t, mink\u00e4 j\u00e4lkeen koko armeijani astui\nesille ja otti haltuunsa niin vangit kuin veneenkin. Min\u00e4, arvoisa\nkuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri muka, en tahtonut viel\u00e4 tulla esiin.\nEnsi ty\u00f6ksemme laitoimme veneen kuntoon ja rupesimme neuvottelemaan\nsiit\u00e4, miten laiva olisi vallattava. Kapteeni selitti sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin\nvangeilleen, kuinka konnamaisesti he olivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohdelleet ja kuinka\nhe nyt rikoksellaan olivat ansainneet hirsipuun. Miehet n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t\nkatuvan pahoja tekojaan ja pyysiv\u00e4t, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n henkens\u00e4\ns\u00e4\u00e4stett\u00e4isiin. Siihen vastasi kapteeni, etteiv\u00e4t he olleet h\u00e4nen\nvankejaan, vaan saaren kuvern\u00f6\u00f6rin. Kapinalliset olivat luulleet,\nlausui kapteeni, j\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4 h\u00e4net autioon saareen, mutta Jumala oli\nohjannut asiat niin, ett\u00e4 saari olikin asuttu ja sen kuvern\u00f6\u00f6rin\u00e4 oli\nenglantilainen, jolla oli oikeus hirtt\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4t, jos hyv\u00e4ksi n\u00e4ki.\nMutta koska h\u00e4n oli heid\u00e4t armahtanut, niin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hett\u00e4isi heid\u00e4t\nEnglantiin tuomittavaksi kaikki paitsi Atkinsin, jota kapteeni nyt\nkuvern\u00f6\u00f6rin k\u00e4skyst\u00e4 kehottaa valmistautumaan kuolemaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4net\nhirtet\u00e4\u00e4n huomenna.\nWill Atkins lankesi polvilleen rukoillen kapteenia puhumaan h\u00e4nen\npuolestaan kuvern\u00f6\u00f6rille. Muut pyysiv\u00e4t Jumalan nimess\u00e4, ettei heit\u00e4\nsuinkaan l\u00e4hetett\u00e4isi Englantiin.\nNyt tuntui minusta, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n vapahduksemme hetki oli ly\u00f6nyt, sill\u00e4\narvelen, ett\u00e4 n\u00e4m\u00e4 miehet saataisiin helposti auttamaan meit\u00e4 laivan\nvaltaamisessa. Vet\u00e4ydyimme kauemmaksi, jotta he eiv\u00e4t n\u00e4kisi, mink\u00e4\nn\u00e4k\u00f6inen mies t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 kuvern\u00f6\u00f6rin\u00e4 hallitsi, ja l\u00e4hetin l\u00e4himm\u00e4n miehen\nkutsumaan kapteenin puheilleni. H\u00e4n meni kapteenin luo sanoen:\n-- Kapteeni! Kuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri kutsuu teit\u00e4 luokseen. Kapteeni vastasi:\n-- Sanokaa h\u00e4nen ylh\u00e4isyydelleen, ett\u00e4 tulen heti paikalla. T\u00e4m\u00e4\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4stytti vankeja viel\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n. Nyt he eiv\u00e4t en\u00e4\u00e4 lainkaan\nep\u00e4illeet, ettei kuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri viidenkymmenen miehens\u00e4 kanssa ollut\nl\u00e4hist\u00f6ll\u00e4.\nKapteenin tultua ilmoitin h\u00e4nelle suunnitelmani laivan valtaamiseksi,\nja h\u00e4n hyv\u00e4ksyi sen t\u00e4ydellisesti. Varovaisuuden vuoksi p\u00e4\u00e4tettiin\nkuitenkin l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 Atkins ja kaksi muuta pahinta konnaa sidottuina\nsamaan luolaan, miss\u00e4 entisi\u00e4kin vankeja s\u00e4ilytettiin. T\u00e4m\u00e4 teht\u00e4v\u00e4\nuskottiin Perjantain, alikapteenin ja laivassa olleen matkustajan\nhuostaan. Muut vangit vietiin linnan vallien v\u00e4liselle aukiolle ja\nsidottiin siell\u00e4.\nKahdeskymmenes luku\nPanttivangit. -- Laiva vallataan. -- Pahantekij\u00e4t j\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4t saareen. --\nVihdoinkin p\u00e4\u00e4sen l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n.\nAamulla varhain l\u00e4hetin kapteenin keskustelemaan vankien kanssa ja\nottamaan selv\u00e4\u00e4 siit\u00e4, saisimmeko heist\u00e4 luotettavia apulaisia laivan\nvaltaamisessa. H\u00e4n ilmoitti heille, ett\u00e4 jos he uskollisesti\nryhtyisiv\u00e4t meit\u00e4 auttamaan, niin kuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri tekee kaiken voitavansa\nhankkiakseen heille armahduksen Englannissa. Muussa tapauksessa heid\u00e4t\nhirtet\u00e4\u00e4n siell\u00e4 ehdottomasti.\nSanomattakin on selv\u00e4\u00e4, mink\u00e4 vaikutuksen moinen ehdotus teki\nvankeihin. He lankesivat polvilleen ja lupasivat palvella h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nviimeiseen veripisaraan saakka ja seurata h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vaikka maailman\n\u00e4\u00e4riin. Kapteeni toi heid\u00e4n vastauksensa minulle vakuuttaen, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\npuolestaan nyt luottaa heid\u00e4n uskollisuuteensa. Ollakseni kuitenkin\naivan varma asiasta pyysin kapteenia menem\u00e4\u00e4n uudestaan heid\u00e4n\nluokseen ja valitsemaan heist\u00e4 viisi kaikkein luotettavinta meille\napulaisiksi sek\u00e4 ilmoittamaan, ett\u00e4 kuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri pit\u00e4\u00e4 muut viisi miest\u00e4\npanttivankeinaan t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, jos edelliset hiukankaan rikkovat\nuskollisuuslupaustansa, niin panttivangit hirtet\u00e4\u00e4n kahleissa\nl\u00e4himpiin rannan puihin.\nMeit\u00e4 oli nyt, minua ja Perjantaita lukuunottamatta, yhteens\u00e4\nkaksitoista miest\u00e4, joiden kanssa kapteeni sanoi uskaltavansa l\u00e4hte\u00e4\nlaivalle. Min\u00e4 ja Perjantai j\u00e4imme saarelle, koska meill\u00e4 oli\nseitsem\u00e4n vankia vartioitavana ja ruokittavana. Tultuani\npanttivankien luo kapteeni selitti heille minun olevan juuri se mies,\njonka kuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri oli asettanut heid\u00e4n vartijakseen. Kuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri, sanoi\nh\u00e4n, oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4nnyt, etteiv\u00e4t he saaneet liikkua minnek\u00e4\u00e4n ilman minun\nlupaani, muutoin heid\u00e4t pantaisiin rautoihin ja teljett\u00e4isiin linnaan.\nKapteenin teht\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4 oli nyt varustaa molemmat purjeveneet, tukkia\ntoisen pohjassa oleva reik\u00e4 ja m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t\u00e4 miehist\u00f6 kumpaankin. Toiseen\nmeni nelj\u00e4 miest\u00e4 ja n\u00e4iden p\u00e4\u00e4llik\u00f6ksi matkustaja, toiseen k\u00e4viv\u00e4t\nkapteeni, alikapteeni ja viisi matruusia.\nPuoleny\u00f6n tienoissa veneet l\u00e4heniv\u00e4t laivaa. P\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4\u00e4n kuulomatkan\np\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n kapteeni k\u00e4ski Johnin huutaa laivallaolijoille ja ilmoittaa,\nett\u00e4 veneet olivat tulleet saaresta ja tuoneet mukanaan sinne\nl\u00e4hteneet miehet. Keskustelua jatkettiin niin kauan, ett\u00e4 veneet\np\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t laivan kylkeen. Silloin kapteeni ja alikapteeni nousivat\nensimm\u00e4isin\u00e4 kannelle ja l\u00f6iv\u00e4t heti muskettiensa per\u00e4ll\u00e4 toisen\nalikapteenin ja kirvesmiehen maahan. Miestens\u00e4 auttamina he sitten\nvangitsivat keski- ja per\u00e4kannella olevat kapinalliset ja sulkivat\nluukut, jottei kannen alta kukaan p\u00e4\u00e4sisi yl\u00f6s. Sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin oli\ntoisenkin veneen v\u00e4ki noussut laivaan ja hy\u00f6k\u00e4nnyt keitti\u00f6ruumaan\nvangiten siell\u00e4 kolme miest\u00e4. Kun laivankansi oli vallattu, k\u00e4ski\nkapteeni alikapteeninsa murtautua kolmen miehen kanssa per\u00e4kajuuttaan,\njohon kapinallisten nykyinen kapteeni oli sulkeutunut kahden matruusin\nja laivapojan kanssa. Alikapteeni noudatti k\u00e4sky\u00e4 ja mursi\nrautakangella kajuutan oven, mutta samassa laukaisivat sis\u00e4ll\u00e4olijat\npistoolinsa haavoittaen kaikkia kolmea, pahimmin itse alikapteenia,\njonka vasempaan olkavarteen kuula sattui. Siit\u00e4 huolimatta h\u00e4n huusi\nmiehi\u00e4 avukseen, rynt\u00e4si sis\u00e4\u00e4n ja ampui pistoolilla kapinallisten\njohtajaa p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, niin ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 kaatui heti hengett\u00f6m\u00e4n\u00e4 maahan. Muut\nantautuivat, ja niin oli laiva vallattu ilman sen suurempaa\nverenvuodatusta.\nHeti t\u00e4m\u00e4n j\u00e4lkeen k\u00e4ski kapteeni ampua seitsem\u00e4n tykinlaukausta\nsopimuksen mukaisesti merkiksi minulle siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 retki oli\nonnistunut. Jokainen arvaa, mill\u00e4 riemulla kuuntelin noita laukauksia\nodoteltuani niit\u00e4 kello kahteen asti aamulla. Kauan j\u00e4nnityksess\u00e4\nolleet voimani raukenivat nyt, ja vaivuin sike\u00e4\u00e4n uneen.\nEn tied\u00e4 kuinka kauan lienen nukkunutkaan, mutta aamulla her\u00e4sin\ntykinlaukaukseen. Kavahdin pystyyn ja kuulin samalla huudettavan:\n\"Kuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri! Kuvern\u00f6\u00f6ri!\" Tunsin kapteenin \u00e4\u00e4nen ja n\u00e4in h\u00e4nen\nseisovan vuorenhuipulla. Sinne riennetty\u00e4ni h\u00e4n sulki minut syliins\u00e4\nja lausui viitaten laivaan:\n-- Rakas yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni ja pelastajani! Tuolla on teid\u00e4n laivanne, se on\nteid\u00e4n omanne kaikkine lasteineen niin kuin mekin.\nKatsoin merelle: siell\u00e4 keinui laiva laineilla ankkuroituna vain\npuolen peninkulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n rannasta. Kapteeni oli n\u00e4et heti laivan\nvaltaamisen j\u00e4lkeen k\u00e4skenyt nostamaan purjeet ja ohjannut laivan\naivan joensuun kohdalle. Itsens\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli soudattanut veneess\u00e4 maihin.\nNiin valtava oli h\u00e4mm\u00e4stykseni, etten ensi hetkess\u00e4 kyennyt lausumaan\nsanaakaan. Tuossa se nyt oli, pelastukseni v\u00e4likappale, suuri laiva,\nvalmiina viem\u00e4\u00e4n minut minne ikin\u00e4 halusin. Minun t\u00e4ytyi pidell\u00e4\nkapteenista kiinni, muuten olisin hervahtanut maahan. H\u00e4n veti pullon\ntaskustaan ja tarjosi siit\u00e4 minulle kulauksen. Se vahvisti minua,\nmutta maahan minun sittenkin t\u00e4ytyi istahtaa enk\u00e4 kyennyt viel\u00e4\nhetkeen saamaan sanaa suustani. Syv\u00e4sti liikuttunut oli kapteenikin.\nMonta hell\u00e4\u00e4 ja yst\u00e4v\u00e4llist\u00e4 sanaa h\u00e4n puhui minulle rohkaistakseen\nmielt\u00e4ni, kunnes tunteeni purkautui hillitt\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n itkuun.\nVasta sen j\u00e4lkeen sain puhelahjani takaisin. Syleilin nyt vuorostani\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 pelastajaani, ja suuri oli meid\u00e4n kumpaisenkin riemu. Sanoin\nett\u00e4 itse taivas n\u00e4ytti l\u00e4hett\u00e4neen h\u00e4net luokseni, johtamaan minut\nt\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4, ja ett\u00e4 kaikki t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli kuin pitk\u00e4 sarja suuria ihmeit\u00e4. Siin\u00e4\noli j\u00e4lleen todistus niist\u00e4 salaisista keinoista, joilla Sallimus\nhallitsee maailmaa. Kaikkivaltiaan silm\u00e4 n\u00e4kee pienimpiinkin\npaikkoihin, kaukaisimpiinkin k\u00e4tk\u00f6ihin, ja h\u00e4n l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 apunsa\naikanaan. En unohtanut ylent\u00e4\u00e4 syd\u00e4nt\u00e4ni kiitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n Jumalaa.\nJonkin aikaa keskusteltuamme kapteeni sanoi tuoneensa minulle hiukan\ntuomisia, sellaisia kuin laiva saattoi tarjota. Sen sanottuaan h\u00e4n\nhuusi miehilleen k\u00e4skien heit\u00e4 tuomaan kuvern\u00f6\u00f6rin tavarat. Niit\u00e4 oli\nkorillinen pulloja, joissa oli mit\u00e4 hienointa lik\u00f6\u00f6ri\u00e4, sitten kuusi\npulloa madeiraa, kaksi naulaa eritt\u00e4in hienoa tupakkaa, kaksitoista\nkimpaletta h\u00e4r\u00e4nlihaa, kuusi viipaletta porsaanpaistia, pussillinen\nherneit\u00e4, toinen jauhoja, l\u00e4hes sata naulaa korppuja, laatikollinen\nsokeria ja paljon muuta hy\u00f6dyllist\u00e4 tavaraa. Mutta tuhat kertaa\narvokkaampia olivat seuraavat esineet: kuusi uutta palttinaista\npaitaa, kuusi kaunista kaulaliinaa, kaksi paria k\u00e4sineit\u00e4, pari\nkenki\u00e4, hattu, pari sukkia ja t\u00e4ydellinen puku kapteenin omasta\nvaatevarastosta, varsin hyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 kunnossa kaikki. H\u00e4n puki minut\nsanalla sanoen uusiin vaatteisiin kiireest\u00e4 kantap\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n asti. Hauskaa\nja mieluistahan t\u00e4m\u00e4 minulle kyll\u00e4 oli, mutta minun t\u00e4ytyy tunnustaa,\nett\u00e4 uudet tamineet tuntuivat n\u00e4in oudokseltaan ahtailta ja\nep\u00e4mukavilta.\nSitten kun kaikki tavarat oli viety asuntooni, neuvottelin kapteenin\nkanssa siit\u00e4, mit\u00e4 oli teht\u00e4v\u00e4 vangeille. Miettimist\u00e4 siin\u00e4 olikin,\nuskaltaisimmeko ottaa vankeja mukaan, varsinkaan niit\u00e4 kahta, joita\nkapteeni piti auttamattomasti paatuneina konnina ja joihin ei voinut\nluottaa hiukkaakaan. Jos heid\u00e4t otetaan mukaan, h\u00e4n arveli,\nniin heid\u00e4t on pantava rautoihin ja j\u00e4tett\u00e4v\u00e4 ensimm\u00e4isess\u00e4\nenglantilaisessa satamassa viranomaisten k\u00e4siin. Huomattuani kuinka\nkapteeni pelk\u00e4si heit\u00e4 tarjouduin selitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n noille miehille, ett\u00e4\nheille itselleen olisi edullisinta j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 saareen. H\u00e4n sanoi olevansa\nsiit\u00e4 minulle syd\u00e4mellisesti kiitollinen.\nPerjantai ja kaksi vapautettua panttivankia l\u00e4hetettiin noutamaan\nvangit luolasta ja viem\u00e4\u00e4n heid\u00e4t lehtimajaan. Siell\u00e4 heid\u00e4n oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\nodottaa tuloani. Jonkin ajan per\u00e4st\u00e4 saavuinkin sinne uudessa\npuvussani kapteenin kanssa ja k\u00e4skin tuoda vangit enteeni. Ilmoitin\nheille tiet\u00e4v\u00e4ni tarkoin, kuinka halpamaisesti ja rikollisesti he\nolivat k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytyneet kapteeniansa kohtaan ja kuinka heill\u00e4 oli ollut\naikomus saatuaan laivan k\u00e4siins\u00e4 l\u00e4hte\u00e4 sill\u00e4 edelleen ry\u00f6st\u00f6retkille.\nMutta Jumala oli k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4nyt heid\u00e4n pahat aikomuksensa niin, ett\u00e4 he\nkietoutuivat omiin verkkoihinsa pudoten siihen kuoppaan, mink\u00e4 olivat\ntoiselle kaivaneet. Nyt on, ilmoitin heille edelleen, laiva otettu\nminun k\u00e4skyst\u00e4ni takavarikkoon, ja pian he saavat n\u00e4hd\u00e4, mink\u00e4 palkan\nheid\u00e4n johtajansa saa: h\u00e4net hirtet\u00e4\u00e4n kohta raakapuun nen\u00e4\u00e4n. Samaan\nrangaistukseen sanoin olevani oikeutettu tuomitsemaan heid\u00e4tkin ja\nkysyin lopuksi, oliko heill\u00e4 siihen jotain sanomista.\nYksi heist\u00e4 astui esiin puhumaan toistenkin puolesta. Ei heill\u00e4, h\u00e4n\nsanoi, ole muuta sanomista kuin ett\u00e4 kapteeni oli luvannut j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4\nheid\u00e4t henkiin, ja sit\u00e4 armoa he nyt n\u00f6yrimm\u00e4sti rukoilivat. Siihen\nvastasin, etten tied\u00e4, miss\u00e4 muodossa t\u00e4m\u00e4 armo saattaisi heid\u00e4n\nosakseen tulla. Min\u00e4 puolestani olen p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt ottaa v\u00e4keni mukaan,\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 pois ja purjehtia kapteenin kanssa laivalla Englantiin.\nKapteeni taas ei sano voivansa ottaa vankeja laivalle muuten kuin\nrautoihin pantuina pahantekij\u00f6in\u00e4. Sellaisina h\u00e4n j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4t\noikeuden k\u00e4siin, ja mik\u00e4 siit\u00e4 on seurauksena, sen he itsekin sangen\nhyvin tiet\u00e4v\u00e4t: hirsipuu. N\u00e4in ollen en tied\u00e4 neuvoa heille muuta\nkeinoa kuin j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 t\u00e4h\u00e4n saareen. Siin\u00e4 tapauksessa saattaisin j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4\nheid\u00e4t henkiin.\nMiehet olivat t\u00e4st\u00e4 hyvin kiitollisia ja sanoivat mieluummin\ntahtovansa j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 t\u00e4nne kuin l\u00e4hte\u00e4 Englantiin ja joutua siell\u00e4\nhirteen.\nIlmoitin suostuvani heid\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6kseens\u00e4 ja p\u00e4\u00e4stin heid\u00e4t vapaaksi\nk\u00e4skien heid\u00e4n menn\u00e4 siihen osaan mets\u00e4\u00e4, mist\u00e4 heid\u00e4t oli t\u00e4nne\ntuotu. Lupasin samalla j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 l\u00e4htiess\u00e4mme heille ampuma-aseita ja\nneuvoa, miten he vastedes tulisivat t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 toimeen.\nNyt ei ollut muuta j\u00e4ljell\u00e4 kuin hankkiutua l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00f6n. Sanoin\nkapteenille aikovani olla y\u00f6t\u00e4 saaressa varustautuakseni matkaan ja\npyysin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 laittamaan laivan l\u00e4ht\u00f6kuntoon seuraavaksi aamuksi,\njolloin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hett\u00e4isi veneen noutamaan minua. Pyysin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 my\u00f6s\nvet\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n kapinallisten kapteenin ruumiin raakapuun nen\u00e4\u00e4n, jotta\nsaarelle j\u00e4\u00e4neet miehet omin silmin saisivat n\u00e4hd\u00e4, miten heid\u00e4n\nentisen johtajansa oli k\u00e4ynyt.\nPari tuntia sen j\u00e4lkeen kun kapteeni oli l\u00e4htenyt, kutsuin vangit\nluokseni ja puhelin heid\u00e4n tulevasta kohtalostaan lausuen olevani sit\u00e4\nmielt\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he olivat valinneet oikean osan. Samalla k\u00e4skin heit\u00e4\nkatselemaan laivaa, jossa kapinallisten kapteeni roikkui raakapuun\nnen\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nSen j\u00e4lkeen kerroin heille, miten min\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 saaressa olin el\u00e4nyt ja\ntullut toimeen. Kerroin heille t\u00e4nne tulostani, n\u00e4ytin linnani ja\npeltoni sek\u00e4 neuvoin heit\u00e4 korjaamaan viiniryp\u00e4leit\u00e4. Ilmoitin\nsamalla, ett\u00e4 ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 saapuu saareen seitsem\u00e4ntoista\nespanjalaista ja kehotin heit\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n sovussa heid\u00e4n kanssaan. J\u00e4tin\nheille kirjeenkin annettavaksi uusille tulokkaille.\nAnnoin heille edelleen kolme miekkaa ja kaikki ampuma-aseet, mit\u00e4\nminulla oli, ja samoin noin puolitoista tynnyri\u00e4 ruutia. Neuvoin heit\u00e4\nhoitamaan vuohia, lyps\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ja valmistamaan voita sek\u00e4 juustoa.\nLupasin hankkia heille laivalta viel\u00e4 pari tynnyrillist\u00e4 ruutia lis\u00e4\u00e4\nja j\u00e4tin heille \u00e4sken saamani pussillisen herneit\u00e4 siemeniksi.\nVarhain aamulla l\u00e4hdin sitten uskollisen yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni Perjantain kanssa\nlaivaan, joka ei kuitenkaan viel\u00e4 sin\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 nostanut ankkuriaan.\nSeuraavana aamuna vietiin saareen lupaamani tavarat, joihin kapteeni\nliitti viel\u00e4 miesten arkut ja vaatteet. Siit\u00e4 he olivat eritt\u00e4in\nkiitollisia.\nSaarelta l\u00e4htiess\u00e4ni otin muistoksi vuohennahkaisen takkini,\np\u00e4iv\u00e4nvarjon ja papukaijan. En j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt rahojakaan, jotka vuosien\nvieriess\u00e4 olivat jo kovin himmenneet, jopa mustuneetkin.\nJa niin l\u00e4hdin saareltani 19. p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 joulukuuta 1686 asuttuani siell\u00e4\nkahdeksankolmatta vuotta, kaksi kuukautta ja yhdeks\u00e4ntoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\nT\u00e4st\u00e4 pitk\u00e4llisest\u00e4 vankeudestani p\u00e4\u00e4sin samana kuukauden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4,\njona olin karannut ensimm\u00e4isest\u00e4 vankeudestani Sal\u00e9sta.\nKauan kesti kotimatka: Englantiin p\u00e4\u00e4stiin vasta 11. p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kes\u00e4kuuta\nKotimaassani olin kuin outo muukalainen. Minua ei tuntenut siell\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4\nkukaan. Eik\u00e4 ihmek\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 olinhan ollut Englannista poissa\nkokonaista kolmekymment\u00e4viisi vuotta.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Robinson Crusoe\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " Dutch\n", "content": "Produced by Anne Dreze, Annemie Arnst & Marc D'Hooghe at\navailable by the Hathi Trust)\nHET LEVEN\nEN\nDE LOTGEVALLEN\nVAN\nROBINSON CRUSOE,\nDOOR\nDANI\u00cbL DE FOE.\nEERSTE DEEL.\nOP NIEUW UIT HET ENGELSCH VERTAALD.\nTE AMSTERDAM, BIJ\nJ.F. SCHLEIJER.\nHET LEVEN EN DE LOTGEVALLEN\nvan\nROBINSON CRUSOE\nIk ben geboren in de stad York, in 1632, van eene deftige familie, die\ndaar echter niet inheemsch was. Mijn vader was van Bremen afkomstig en\nhad zich eerst te Hull gevestigd. Na in den koophandel eene tamelijke\nfortuin verworven te hebben, liet hij dien varen en ging te York wonen,\nwaar hij met mijne moeder trouwde, die tot eene deftige oude familie,\nRobinson genaamd, aldaar behoorde. Naar deze ontving ik den naam van\nRobinson Kreutznaer; maar door eene in Engeland niet ongewone\nverbastering van naam, noemde men ons, en noemen en schrijven wij zelven\nons Crusoe; en mijne vrienden hebben mij nimmer anders dan onder dien\nnaam gekend.\nIk had twee broeders, die ouder waren dan ik; de oudste diende als\nluitenant-kolonel bij een regement voetvolk in Vlaanderen, toen hij in\nden slag tegen de Spanjaarden bij Duinkerken sneuvelde. Ik heb nimmer\nvernomen wat er van mijn tweeden broeder geworden is, even als mijne\nouders nimmer wisten waar ik gebleven was.\nIk was de derde zoon en tot geenerlei bedrijf opgeleid, terwijl mijn\nhoofd reeds vroeg met allerlei luchtkasteelen opgevuld was. Mijn vader,\ndie reeds hoog bejaard was, had mij zooveel onderrigt verschaft als hij\nkon, zoowel door zijne lessen te huis als door mij op eene school te\nlaten gaan. Hij had mij tot een regtsgeleerde bestemd, maar ik dacht\nalleen aan ter zee te varen; en deze neiging maakte mij zoo doof voor de\nwenschen, zelfs voor de bevelen mijns vaders, en al het smeeken en\nafraden mijner moeder en mijner bloedverwanten, dat het scheen alsof\nhierin een zeker noodlot lag, dat mij aandreef tot het rampzalige leven,\ndat ik sedert geleid heb.\nMijn vader, een bezadigd en verstandig man, deed mij de ernstigste en\nuitmuntendste vertoogen, om mij van mijne voornemens af te brengen. Op\neen morgen riep hij mij tot zich in zijne kamer, die de jicht hem\nbelette te verlaten, en onderhield mij dienaangaande op het\nnadrukkelijkst. \"Welke redenen,\" vroeg hij, \"behalve de dwaze zucht om\nde wereld rond te zwerven, drijven u aan uw vaders huis en uw vaderland,\nwaar gij voortgeholpen kunt worden, door uwe vlijt aangenaam leven, en\neen ruim bestaan kunt erlangen. Alleen menschen, die niets te verliezen\nhebben of die groote rijkdommen bezitten, mogen zich door gevaarlijke\nmiddelen rijkdom of beroemdheid verwerven; zulke middelen zijn ver boven\nu of ver beneden u.\" Hij voegde er bij, dat ik tot den middelstand\nbehoorde, dat is tot dien, welke den hoogsten trap onder de mindere\nklassen beslaat; een staat, die de ervaring hem geleerd had, dat de\ngelukkigste voor den mensch is; dewijl men er niet blootgesteld is aan\nden zwaren arbeid en de ontberingen, waaraan zij, die van hunnen\nhandenarbeid leven, zich moeten onderwerpen, en te gelijker tijd bevrijd\nblijft van de weelde, en den hoogmoed, en de afgunst van iedereen,\nwaaraan de grooten blootstaan. \"Alleen hieruit,\" zeide hij, \"kunt gij\nover het geluk van dezen staat oordeelen, dat dikwijls koningen de\ntreurige gevolgen van hunnen verheven stand hebben betreurd, en\ngewenscht, dat zij in het midden tusschen grootheid en geringheid waren\ngeboren. Het beste boek getuigt ook van het geluk van dezen staat, als\nde wijze den Hemel smeekt hem noch armoede noch rijkdom te geven.\"\nHij deed mij wijders opmerken, dat de zwaarste rampen gewoonlijk de\nhoogste en laagste standen der maatschappij troffen; maar dat de\nmiddelklasse de minste lotwisselingen onderging, en veel minder bloot\nstond aan een aantal ziekten en kwalen van ligchaam en geest, die bij de\ngrooten door ondeugden, verwenning en onmatigheid, en aan den anderen\nkant bij de geringen door slecht voedsel, gebrek en zwaren arbeid,\nworden voortgebragt. \"De middelstand,\" zeide hij, \"is volkomen geschikt\nom alle deugden te ontwikkelen, en alle soort van genoegens op te\nleveren; rust en overvloed zijn de natuurlijke gevolgen van een\nmiddelmatig fortuin; bezadigdheid, matigheid, gemoedsrust, alle\nmaatschappelijke genoegens gaan daarmede gepaard. Langs dezen weg gaat\nmen onopgemerkt en zonder moeite de wereld door, bevrijd van zwaren\nhand- en hoofdarbeid, niet gedoemd tot eene dagelijksche slavernij om\nzijn brood te verdienen, noch tot zulke ingewikkelde zaken, die de ziel\nvan haren vrede, het ligchaam van zijne rust berooven; verwijderd van de\nknagingen der afgunst, niet verteerd door bedekte eerzucht; aldus\nwandelt men welgemoed het leven door, smaakt de zuiverste geneugten des\nlevens, gevoelt zijn geluk en leert dagelijks zijn lot meer naar waarde\nschatten.\"\nHierop drong hij ernstig en op de liefderijkste wijze er bij mij op aan,\ndat ik niet als een loszinnige jongen zou handelen, en mij niet in\nellenden zou storten, voor welke de natuur, en de staat waarin ik\ngeboren was, mij behoedden. Hij zeide, dat ik niet noodig had mijn brood\nte zoeken, dat ik op zijne ondersteuning rekenen kon, en hij zijn best\nzou doen mij in den staat, dien hij mij zoo aangeprezen had, te stellen.\n\"Zoo gij niet in een onbezorgden toestand geraakt,\" zeide hij, \"zal het\nalleen uw eigen schuld en ik er niet verantwoordelijk voor zijn. Ik heb\nmijn pligt gedaan door u te waarschuwen tegen stappen, die ik weet dat\ntot uw ongeluk leiden. In een woord, ik wil veel voor u doen, als gij u\nhier naar mijn wensen wilt nederzetten; maar ik wil niets tot uw ongeluk\nbijdragen, door u de uitvoering uwer voorgenomen zwerftogten gemakkelijk\nte maken.\" Eindelijk hield hij mij het voorbeeld van mijn oudsten\nbroeder voor oogen, bij wien hij dezelfde drangredenen had aangevoerd,\nom hem van zijn vertrek naar het leger in de Nederlanden terug te\nhouden, waar hij zijn dood had gevonden. Hij verzekerde mij, dat hij\nnimmer zou ophouden voor mijn welzijn te bidden, maar dat hij mij durfde\nvoorspellen, dat, zoo ik den onzinnigen stap, waartoe ik voornemens\nscheen, uitvoerde, ik niet op 's Hemels zegen hopen mogt, en dat het\nnaderhand mij eenmaal zou berouwen, dat ik zijn raad niet gevolgd had,\nals ik in het ongeluk geraakte en niemand mij te hulp kwam.\nBij dit laatste deel van zijne rede, die inderdaad door de uitkomst\nvolkomen bevestigd werd, schoon mijn vader dit zelf niet vermoeden kon,\nzag ik dat de tranen hem over het gelaat stroomden, vooral toen hij van\nmijn gesneuvelden broeder sprak; en toen hij van mijn berouw in later\ntijd gewaagde, en dat mij alsdan niemand zou te hulp komen, was hij zoo\naangedaan, dat hij het gesprek afbrak, en mij verklaarde, dat zijn hart\nte vol was en hij niet meer spreken kon.\nIk was ernstig getroffen door dit gesprek, en wie zou dit niet geweest\nzijn? Ik besloot er niet meer aan te denken het land te verlaten, maar\nmij er, zoo als mijn vader verlangde, te vestigen. Maar helaas, in\nweinige dagen was deze indruk geheel uitgewischt, en om mijns vaders\nverwijtingen te ontgaan, vormde ik het besluit stilletjes de vlugt te\nnemen. Ik handelde echter niet zoo overijld, als mijne eigene drift mij\nwel aandreef. Ik maakte mij een oogenblik ten nutte, waarin mijne moeder\nmij beter geluimd dan gewoonlijk toescheen, om haar te bekennen, dat het\nverlangen, de wereld te zien, mijne ziel zoo geheel had ingenomen, dat\nhet mij onmogelijk zou zijn mij op iets toe te leggen met die\nstandvastigheid, die tot het welslagen vereischt wordt; dat mijn vader\nbeter zou doen mij zijne toestemming te geven, dan mij te dwingen zonder\ndezelve te vertrekken; dat ik thans achttien jaren oud en het dus te\nlaat was om als leerling bij een koopman, of klerk bij een regtsgeleerde\nte gaan, en dat, zoo ik mij tot het een of ander vak begaf, ik gewis dit\nv\u00f3\u00f3r het einde van mijn leertijd zou vaarwel zeggen; en dat, zoo zij\nmijn vader wilde overhalen mij eene enkele reis buiten 's lands te laten\ndoen, ik bij mijne terugkomst, zoo deze levenswijs mij niet beviel,\nhaar zou vaarwel zeggen, en door verdubbelde vlijt den verloren tijd\ninhalen.\nBij deze mededeeling werd mijne moeder zeer boos. Zij zeide mij, dat het\nniet baten zou mijn vader hierover te spreken, want dat deze te wel mijn\nwaar belang kende, om zulke schadelijke ontwerpen te bevorderen; zij\nbegreep niet hoe ik er nog aan durfde denken, na hetgeen mijn vader mij\nhad voorgehouden, en na de woorden van genegenheid, waarvan hij zich\nalstoen bediend had. \"Wilt gij u overigens volstrekt ongelukkig maken,\"\nzeide zij, \"niemand kan het u beletten, maar gij kunt verzekerd zijn,\ndat wij daarin nimmer zullen toestemmen; wat mij betreft, ik zal nimmer\ntot uw verderf de hand leenen, en gij zult nimmer kunnen zeggen, dat uwe\nmoeder goedvond wat uw vader afgekeurd heeft.\"\nHoewel nu mijne moeder weigerde mijn voornemen aan mijn vader mede te\ndeelen, heb ik naderhand vernomen, dat zij hem ons geheele gesprek had\nverhaald, en dat hij, na vele blijken van droefheid, gezegd had: \"Dit\nkind kon zeer gelukkig leven als hij hier bleef; maar als hij ons\nverlaat, kan hij de ongelukkigste mensch der wereld worden; ik kan er\nniet in toestemmen.\"\nIk bleef nog bijkans een jaar in huis, zonder te trachten mijne boeijen\nte verbreken, maar altijd halsstarrig het oor sluitende voor elk\nvoorstel, om mij op het een of ander toe te leggen. Dikwijls stelde ik\nmijnen ouders voor, dat zij verkeerd deden met zich zoo te verzetten\ntegen mijne besliste neiging. Eindelijk was ik eens te Hull, waar ik\ntoevallig, en zonder oogmerk om weg te loopen, was heengegaan; en vond\ndaar een mijner schoolmakkers, die over zee naar Londen ging in een\nschip, dat zijn vader toekwam. Hij noodigde mij uit hem te vergezellen,\nmet de gewone drangreden van een zeeman, namelijk, dat de overtogt mij\nniets zou kosten. Zonder alstoen mijne ouders te raadplegen, zonder hen\nkennis te geven van mijn vertrek, liet ik het aan het toeval over,\nwanneer en op welke wijze zij hiervan berigt zouden bekomen; zonder te\ndenken om mijns vaders zegen of dien van God te vragen, zonder op de\nomstandigheden of gevolgen van mijn stap te letten, en God weet het, te\nkwader ure, den 1en September 1651, begaf ik mij scheep op het naar\nLonden bestemde vaartuig.\nNimmer begonnen de ongelukken van een jongen avonturier spoediger, noch\nduurden langer dan de mijne. Naauwelijks waren wij de haven uit, of de\nwind begon op te steken en de zee geweldig hoog te gaan; en daar ik voor\nde eerste maal op zee was, werd ik allerijsselijkst ziek en benaauwd. Ik\nbegon thans ernstig te bedenken wat ik gedaan had, en ik gevoelde hoe\nwelverdiend de straf was, die de Hemel mij toeschikte, omdat ik op eene\nzoo laakbare wijs mijn vaders huis en mijn pligt verlaten had. Al de\ngoede raadgevingen mijner ouders, de tranen mijns vaders, de gebeden\nmijner moeder kwamen mij voor den geest, en mijn geweten, dat nog niet\nzoo verhard was als naderhand, verweet mij, dat ik wijzen raad\nveronachtzaamd, het vaderlijk gezag miskend en Gods wetten overtreden\nhad.\nMiddelerwijl werd de storm steeds heviger, en de zee begon zeer hoog te\ngaan, hoewel op verre na zoo niet, als ik het later meermalen heb\ngezien, en het weinige dagen daarna reeds bijwoonde, maar toch genoeg om\niemand als ik, die nimmer op zee geweest was, angst aan te jagen. Bij\nelke golf verwachtte ik, dat zij ons zou inzwelgen, en als het schip van\nvoren tot op den bodem der zee zonk, zoo als ik mij verbeeldde, dacht\nik, dat het zich nimmer zou opheffen. In deze oogenblikken van angst\ndeed ik menigmaal de gelofte, dat als het God behaagde mij op deze reis\nte sparen, ik, zoodra ik voet aan wal zette, dadelijk naar mijn vaders\nhuis gaan en nimmer weder een schip betreden zou, maar mij naar zijn\nraad gedragen en mij nimmer weder in zulk gevaar begeven. Thans zag ik\nduidelijk hoe waar mijn vader gesproken had over den middelstand, hoe\ngerust hij zijne dagen gesleten had, evenzeer behoed voor de stormen des\noceaans, als voor de zorg en onrust van het land. Ik besloot dus, met\neen opregt berouw, als de verloren zoon, naar mijn ouders huis terug te\nkeeren.\nDeze goede en verstandige voornemens duurden zoo lang de storm aanhield\nen zelfs nog eenigen tijd daarna, maar den volgenden dag werd de wind\nbedaard, de zee werd kalm, en ik begon er mij aan te gewennen; echter\nwas ik dien geheelen dag zeer ernstig, want ik was nog een weinig\nzeeziek. Tegen den avond klaarde de lucht op, de wind ging geheel\nliggen, en het werd een verrukkelijk schoone avond. De zon ging\nonbewolkt onder en even zoo den volgenden dag op. Hare stralen vielen op\neene effene en kalme zee, een zacht windje dreef ons voort, en dit\nschouwspel scheen mij het heerlijkste wat ik immer zag.\nIk had goed geslapen; ik was niet ziek meer, en zag met eene vrolijke\nverbazing die zee, die gisteren zoo onstuimig en verschrikkelijk, en\nheden zoo schoon en rustig was. Mijn vriend, die mij werkelijk weggelokt\nhad, en zeker vreesde, dat mijne goede voornemens zouden stand houden,\nkwam thans bij mij, en zeide: \"Wel, Robinson, hoe gaat het u thans? Ik\nwed dat gij gisteren, toen wij die bui hadden, bang waart?\"--\"Noemt gij\ndat eene bui?\" vroeg ik; \"het was waarachtig een verschrikkelijke\nstorm.\"--\"Een storm, domoor die gij zijt!\" hervatte hij, \"het geleek er\nniet naar. Met een goed schip, en als wij in het ruime sop zijn,\nbekommeren wij ons weinig om zulke vlagen. Maar gij zijt een\nzoet-waterschipper, Robinson; eene kom punsch zal u dat alles doen\nvergeten. Zie eens welk verrukkelijk weder wij thans hebben.\"\nOm bij dit droevig gedeelte van mijne geschiedenis niet langer stil te\nstaan, zal ik alleen maar zeggen, dat wij deden als zoo vele zeelieden.\nDe punsch werd gereed gemaakt, en mijn berouw over het verledene en al\nmijne wijze voornemens voor het toekomende, daarin verdronken. In een\nwoord, gelijk de zee, na het ophouden van den storm, tot hare gewone\nkalmte terugkeerde, zoo hervatte ik, na bevrijd te zijn van de vrees, om\ndoor de zee verzwolgen te worden, mijne gewone wijze van denken, en\nvergat al de geloften, die ik gedurende mijn angst had afgelegd. Er\nwaren echter nog oogenblikken, waarin de rede hare heerschappij trachtte\nte hernemen, maar ik verzette mij daartegen als tegen eene zwakheid, en\nterwijl ik mij aan den sterken drank en het gezelschap mijner makkers\novergaf, geraakte ik weldra van deze vlagen, gelijk ik ze noemde,\nontslagen. Na verloop van vijf of zes dagen had ik over mijn geweten\neene zoo volkomene overwinning behaald, als een jongeling, die van\ndeszelfs vermaningen ontslagen wenscht te zijn, slechts kon verlangen.\nEvenwel moest ik van dien kant nog een anderen aanval doorstaan, en\ngelijk gewoonlijk in zulke gevallen geschiedt, wilde de Voorzienigheid\nmij alle verontschuldigingen benemen; want zoo ik de genade des Hemels\nniet wilde erkennen in den afloop van de voorgaande gebeurtenis, was de\nvolgende van dien aard, dat de verdorvenste en meest verharde onder ons,\nniet weigeren kon, er de kastijdende en reddende hand des Hemels in te\nzien.\nDen zesden dag onzer reis kwamen wij op de reede van Yarmouth, daar de\ntegenwinden en windstilten ons niet veel hadden doen vorderen, sedert\nden storm. Wij waren verpligt op deze reede te ankeren, omdat de wind\nvoor ons ongunstig was, dat wil zeggen, dat hij Z.W. bleef, gedurende\nzeven of acht dagen. Verscheidene groote schepen van New-Castle bleven\ndaar om dezelfde reden als wij liggen. De wind, die eerst stevig, en\nvervolgens allerhevigst was, verhinderde ons den Teems op te varen;\nmaar de ankergrond was goed (deze reede wordt zoo veilig geacht als eene\nhaven) en ons ankertouw was stevig; zoodat ons volk niet het minste\ngevaar duchtte en volgens de gewoonte der matrozen, den tijd sleet met\nallerlei vrolijkheid. Eindelijk werd den achtsten dag, des morgens, de\nwind zoo hevig, dat alle man aan het werk moest om de stengen te\nstrijken, ten einde den wind zoo weinig vat als mogelijk te laten. Tegen\nden middag ging de zee vreesselijk hoog, ons schip kreeg verscheidene\nstortzee\u00ebn over, en eens of twee malen dachten wij dat het anker te huis\nkwam, zoodat de schipper besloot het plegtanker te laten vallen, waarop\nwij met twee ankers vooruit lagen en met de touwen tot aan het einde\nuitgestoken.\nWeldra stak er een allervreesselijkste orkaan op, en thans zag ik op de\ngezigten der matrozen zelve schrik en ne\u00earslagtigheid. De kapitein hield\nzich ijverig met de zorg voor zijn vaartuig bezig, maar ik hoorde hem\nbinnen 's monds zeggen, terwijl hij digt langs mij heen, in de kajuit\nging: \"Heere, heb medelijden met ons! het is met ons gedaan! alles is\nverloren!\" en dergelijke uitdrukkingen meer. In de eerste oogenblikken\nvan verwarring, was ik als verplet op de kooi in mijne hut\nnedergevallen. Wat ik gevoelde, zou ik onmogelijk kunnen beschrijven.\nHet kostte mij moeite mijn vorig berouw te herdenken, en ik trachtte mij\ndaartegen te verharden. Ik zeide tot mijzelven, dat de eerste bitterheid\nvan den angst voorbij was, en dat deze onrust niets zou zijn in\nvergelijking van de eerste. Maar toen ik den kapitein zelf hoorde\nzeggen, dat wij allen in gevaar waren van te vergaan, gevoelde ik een\nontzettenden angst. Ik vloog uit de kajuit, sloeg de oogen rondom mij en\nzag een allerverschrikkelijkst schouwspel. De golven gingen berghoog, en\nbraken om de drie of vier minuten over ons schip. Waar ik de oogen\nwendde zag ik niets dan nood. Twee zwaar geladen schepen, digt bij ons,\nhadden hunne masten tot op het dek gekapt, en de matrozen riepen dat een\nander vaartuig, dat op eene mijl ongeveer voor ons lag, aan het zinken\nwas. Twee anderen, die van hunne ankers geslagen waren, waren in zee\ngedreven, ten speelbal van wind en golven, daar geen hunner een mast\nhad opstaan. De ligtste vaartuigen hadden het minst te lijden, doch van\ndeze sloegen eenigen los en kwamen digt langs ons heen, terwijl zij met\nde fok alleen bijgezet, voor den wind afliepen.\nTegen den avond verzochten de stuurman en de bootsman den kapitein, dat\nzij den fokkemast mogten kappen; waartoe hij weinig lust had; doch de\nbootsman beweerde, dat, zoo het niet gebeurde, het schip zinken moest.\nToen het geschied was stond de groote mast zoo los, en gaf het schip\nzulke geweldige rukken, dat wij verpligt waren dien ook te kappen, en\nniets op het dek te laten.\nMen kan zich ligt voorstellen in welken toestand ik was, terwijl dit\nalles voorviel; ik, pas op zee gekomen, en die zoo kort geleden zoo veel\nangst had uitgestaan. Doch, bijaldien ik na een zoo lang tijdverloop, de\ndenkbeelden, die mij toen bezig hielden, mij nog kan te binnen brengen,\ndunkt mij, dat mijn vorig berouw en de verstoktheid, waarmede ik dit had\nlaten varen, mij tienmaal meer kwelling veroorzaakten, dan het naderen\nvan den dood; deze denkbeelden, gevoegd bij het woeden van den storm,\nbragten mij in een toestand, die niet door woorden kan beschreven\nworden. Doch het ergste was nog niet gekomen.\nDe storm bleef met zooveel woede aanhouden, dat de zeelieden zelf\nerkenden nimmer een heviger te hebben bijgewoond. Ons schip was goed,\nmaar het was zwaar geladen, en het zonk zoo diep, dat de matrozen elk\noogenblik riepen, dat het naar den bodem zou gaan. De storm was\nzoodanig, dat ik zag, wat men niet dikwijls ziet, den kapitein, den\nstuurman, den bootsman, en eenigen der verstandigsten van het volk,\ngeknield hunne gebeden opzeggen en zich voorbereiden op een graf in den\noceaan.\nMidden in den nacht, en bij al onzen nood, riep een van het volk, die\nhierom naar omlaag was gezonden, dat wij een lek hadden; een ander\nzeide, dat er vier voet water in het ruim stond. Daarop werd iedereen\naan de pompen geroepen. Bij dit woord ontzonk mij het hart, en ik viel\nachterover, van den rand der kooi, waarop ik zat, in de hut. De matrozen\nechter riepen mij en zeiden, dat schoon ik tot hiertoe tot niets nut was\ngeweest, ik thans even zeer in staat was te pompen als een ander. Ik\nstond dadelijk op, strompelde naar de pomp en ging ijverig aan het werk.\nTerwijl dit gebeurde, zag de kapitein eenige ligte kolenschepen, die\nniet in staat zijnde den storm uit te rijden, hunne ankers hadden laten\nglippen en naar zee gingen, terwijl zij digt langs ons heen liepen. Hij\ngaf last een noodschot te doen. Ik, die niet wist wat dit beteekende,\ndacht dat het schip in twee\u00ebn scheurde, of iets dergelijks; kortom ik\nontstelde zoo, dat ik in flaauwte viel. Iedereen had thans genoeg aan\nzijn eigen leven te denken, niemand zag naar mij om, of dacht er aan wat\ner van mij geworden was; een ander kwam mij aan de pomp vervangen en\nstiet mij met zijn voet ter zijde, denkende, dat ik dood was, en het\nduurde lang voor ik weder tot mij zelve kwam.\nWij werkten voort, maar het water klom. Het was blijkbaar, dat wij\nmoesten zinken, en hoewel de storm een weinig bedaard was, was het niet\nmogelijk dat het schip drijvende kon blijven, totdat wij eene haven\nkonden bereiken. De kapitein bleef derhalve noodseinen doen, en een\nklein schip, dat voor ons had gelegen, waagde het ons eene boot toe te\nzenden. Met het grootste gevaar naderde deze ons, maar het was ons\nonmogelijk er in te gaan, en voor de boot, bij ons op zijde te komen\nliggen; tot eindelijk het volk zoo hard roeide, dat zij met levensgevaar\nons zoo nabij kwamen, dat wij een touw, met een boei er op gestoken,\nhun konden toewerpen; na veel moeite en gevaar maakten zij het vast, en\nwij haalden hen digt achter ons en gingen er allen in. Wij konden er\nniet aan denken het vaartuig, waarvan men ons te hulp was gekomen, te\nbereiken, en besloten dus de boot te laten drijven en zoo veel mogelijk\nhaar naar den wal te roeijen, en onze kapitein beloofde, dat als de boot\nverbrijzelde, hij die aan hunnen kapitein zou betalen. Aldus kwamen wij\ndeels roeijende, deels drijvende, bij Wintertonness aan wal.\nWij hadden geen kwartier ons schip verlaten of wij zagen het zinken.\nToen de matrozen zeiden, dat het schip zinkende was, was de moed mij\ngeheel ontzonken, en van het oogenblik af, dat ik meer in de boot\ngedragen dan geleid werd, bleef ik half dood, deels van schrik, deels\nvan ontzetting, deels van vrees, voor hetgeen nog volgen zou.\nToen het volk aldus hard aan het roeijen was, om de boot strandwaarts te\nbrengen, zagen wij, als eene golf onze sloep ophief, eene menigte volks\nlangs het strand loopen, om ons te hulp te schieten, als wij digter bij\nzouden komen. Wij naderden echter slechts langzaam het strand, en\nbereikten het eerst voorbij de vuurtoren van Winterton, waar het strand\nwestwaarts inloopt, en hierdoor een weinig het geweld van den wind\nbreekt. Niet zonder veel moeite kwamen wij eindelijk behouden aan wal,\nen begaven ons te voet naar Yarmouth. Wij werden daar met veel\nmenschlievendheid behandeld; zoowel door de overheid als door de\nkooplieden en reeders van schepen, die geld bijeen bragten, dat voor ons\nvoldoende was, om naar Londen of terug naar Hull te gaan.\nWas ik nu zoo verstandig geweest, naar Hull terug en vandaar naar huis\nte gaan, ik ware gelukkig geweest, en mijn vader zou, even als die in de\ngelijkenis van den verloren zoon, zelfs het gemeste kalf geslagt hebben;\nwant na gehoord te hebben dat het schip, waarop ik gegaan was, op de\nreede van Yarmouth was verbrijzeld, duurde het lang, alvorens hij vernam\ndat ik niet verdronken was.\nDoch mijn ongelukkig noodlot dreef mij met onweerstaanbaar geweld voort;\nen schoon in bezadigde oogenblikken mijne rede en mijn gezond oordeel\nmij aanrieden, naar het ouderlijk huis te gaan, kon ik er niet toe\nbesluiten. Ik weet niet hoe ik dit noemen zal; ik wil ook niet beweren,\ndat eene geheime magt ons aandrijft ons in ons verderf te storten, al is\nhet dat het bloot voor ons ligt en wij er met open oogen ons in begeven.\nZeker kon niets dan eene allerkrachtigste magt mij op de betredene baan\nvoortdrijven, in weerwil van de grondigste bewijzen, de blijkbaarste\nredenen daartegen, en de onloochenbare waarschuwingen, die ik bij mijne\neerste onderneming had ondervonden.\nMijn vriend, de zoon van den kapitein, die mij vroeger geholpen had de\nvermaningen van mijn geweten te smoren, was thans schroomvalliger dan\nik. Daar wij ieder aan het ander einde der stad onder dak gekomen waren,\nwas ik reeds twee of drie dagen te Yarmouth, alvorens ik hem ontmoette.\nMet eene geheel andere stem dan vroeger, vroeg hij mij, op een treurigen\ntoon, hoe ik voer. Hij zeide daarop aan zijn vader wie ik was, en dat\ndit mijne eerste reis was tot een proef, om naderhand buiten 's lands te\ngaan. Zijn vader keerde zich tot mij, en zeide op een ernstigen en\ntreffenden toon: \"Jongeling, gij moest nimmer weder naar zee gaan; gij\nbehoort dit als een zigtbaar teeken te beschouwen, dat gij niet tot een\nzeeman bestemd zijt.\"--\"Hoe zoo, mijnheer,\" zeide ik, \"zult gij dan niet\nweder naar zee gaan?\"--\"Dat is iets anders,\" hernam hij, \"het is mijn\nberoep, en dus mijn pligt; maar als dit een proefreisje van u was, hebt\ngij een voorsmaak van hetgeen de Hemel u bestemd heeft, als gij in uw\nvoornemen volhardt. Misschien zijn al deze ongelukken ons om uwentwil\noverkomen, even als Jona het vergaan van het schip van Tarsis verwekte.\nZeg mij, bid ik u, wie zijt gij, en waarom gingt gij op zee?\"--Ik\nverhaalde hem het een en ander van mij, en toen ik ge\u00ebindigd had, riep\nhij driftig: \"Wat heb ik gedaan, dat zulk een rampzalige bij mij aan\nboord moest komen? Voor geen duizend pond zou ik weder een voet met u op\nhetzelfde schip willen zetten!\" Deze uitbarsting was zekerlijk een\ngevolg van zijn geleden verlies, en meer dan hij zeggen mogt. Echter\nsprak hij vervolgens zeer bezadigd tot mij, en vermaande mij naar mijn\nvader terug te keeren en de Voorzienigheid niet te verzoeken, die zich\nzigtbaar tegen mijn voornemen verklaard had. \"Wees verzekerd,\njongeling,\" zeide hij, \"dat, zoo gij niet terugkeert, gij overal\nteleurstellingen en tegenspoed zult ondervinden, en de voorspellingen\nuws vaders nopens u vervuld zullen worden.\"--Ik antwoordde hem weinig,\nen spoedig daarna scheidden wij; ik weet niet waar hij heengegaan is.\nIk, die een weinig geld in den zak had, ging over land naar Londen, en\nzoowel onder weg als toen ik daar was, had ik een harden tweestrijd,\nwelke levenswijze ik thans zou aanvangen, of ik naar mijns vaders huis\nof naar zee zou gaan.\nWat betreft het naar huis gaan: de schaamte weerstond de beste redenen\ndaartoe; ik stelde mij voor hoe onze bekenden mij zouden uitlagchen, en\nhoe beschaamd ik zijn zou, niet alleen om mijne ouders, maar ieder ander\nonder de oogen te treden. Later heb ik dikwijls opgemerkt, hoe eenzijdig\nen onverstandig de mensch, bijzonder de jeugd, is, namelijk, dat zij\nmeer schaamte over het berouw dan over hare misstappen gevoelt, en dat\nzij niet over hare dwaasheden bloost, maar wel zoo zij die varen laat.\nIk bleef eenigen tijd weifelend welken weg ik zou inslaan. Ik gevoelde\ngrooten weerzin in naar huis terug te keeren, en naar gelang het\ngeheugen mijner tegenspoeden verflaauwde, vermeerderde deze, tot ik\neindelijk alle denkbeeld daaraan varen liet, en ik aan boord ging van\neen schip, dat naar de Afrikaansche, of gelijk men gewoonlijk zegt, naar\nde Goudkust, bestemd was.\nMijn grootste ongeluk bij al deze avonturen, was, dat ik niet als\nmatroos scheep ging; ik had dan wel wat zwaarder moeten werken, maar zou\nte gelijker tijd het scheepswerk geleerd, en mij voor onder- of\nopperstuurman, of zelfs voor kapitein bekwaam gemaakt hebben. Maar\nsteeds was het mijn lot den verkeerden weg in te slaan, zoo als ook hier\ngeschiedde. Ik had nu geld op zak en goede kleederen aan, en wilde dus\naltijd als een heer scheep gaan; hier had ik niets te doen en leerde dus\nook niets.\nBij mijne komst te Londen was ik zoo gelukkig in goed gezelschap te\ngeraken, hetgeen een loszinnig jongeling zonder opzigt, gelijk ik, niet\naltoos te beurt valt. Mijne eerste kennismaking was met den kapitein van\neen schip, die van de kust van Guinea teruggekomen was, en eene goede\nreis gemaakt en dus besloten had derwaarts terug te keeren. Mijn\nvoorkomen geviel dezen man, en daar hij van mij hoorde, dat ik verlangde\nde wereld te zien, zeide hij, dat, zoo ik met hem wilde gaan, het mij\nniets kosten zou; ik kon aan zijne tafel eten, en zoo ik eenige\nkoopwaren wilde medenemen, die zoo voordeelig mogelijk trachten te\nverkoopen; misschien met zoo veel winst, dat dit mij voor liet vervolg\naanmoediging gaf.\nIk nam dit aan, en hechtte mij naauw aan den kapitein, die een eerlijk\nen rondborstig man was. Ik deed de reis met hem, en nam eenige goederen\nop avontuur mede; want ik besteedde ongeveer 40 [\u00a3] Sterl. aan zoodanige\nsnuisterijen als hij mij opgaf. Deze 40 [\u00a3] Sterl. had ik bijeengebragt\ndoor behulp van eenige mijner bloedverwanten, waarmede ik briefwisseling\nhield en die, geloof ik, mijn vader, of althans mijne moeder,\novergehaald hadden mij die som af te staan.\nDit was, mag ik zeggen, van al mijne avonturen, de eenigste gelukkige\nreis, hetgeen ik aan mijn vriend, den kapitein te danken had, van wien\nik eene tamelijke kennis der wiskunde en van de stuurmanskunst leerde.\nOok leerde hij mij het journaal houden, het bestek opmaken, kortom al\nwat een zeeman noodig heeft; want hij had even veel vermaak in mij te\nonderrigten, als ik in het leeren. In een woord, deze reis maakte van\nmij een zeeman en een koopman; want ik bragt vijf pond negen oncen\ngoudstof voor mijne goederen mede, die mij te Londen 300 guinjes\nopbragten. Dit boezemde mij die begeerlijke denkbeelden in, die mij\nlater in het verderf hebben gestort.\nEchter bleef ik op deze reis zelfs niet van tegenspoed bevrijd,\nbijzonder was ik op de kust schier aanhoudend ziek door de geweldige\nhitte, die mij eene heete koorts op het lijf joeg.\nIk was dus thans koopman op de kust van Guinea, en daar mijn vriend\nongelukkig, kort na zijne aankomst, overleden was, besloot ik op zijn\nschip, waar de stuurman thans kapitein op geworden was, eene tweede reis\nte doen. Nimmer deed iemand ongelukkiger reis. Ik nam slechts voor 100\n[\u00a3] Sterl. mede en liet de overige 200 bij mijn vriends weduwe achter,\ndoch ik onderging vreesselijke tegenspoeden. Eerst toen wij op de hoogte\nder Kanarische eilanden, of liever, tusschen deze en de Afrikaansche\nkust waren, werden wij in den vroegen morgen een Moorschen roover van\nSal\u00e9 gewaar. Hij maakte jagt op ons, met alle zeilen bijgezet. Wij\nzetten ook zoo veel zeilen bij als wij konden voeren; doch bespeurende,\ndat de roover op ons won en ons zeker binnen weinige uren bereiken zou,\nmaakten wij ons gereed om te slaan. Wij hadden twaalf stukken en de\nroover achttien.\nTegen drie uren des middags was hij bij ons; maar daar hij door een\nmisslag ons op zijde kwam, in plaats van achter onzen spiegel, bragten\nwij acht stukken aan die zijde en gaven hem daarmede de volle laag, die\nhem deed afhouden, na ons de laag en het klein geweervuur van\ntweehonderd man gegeven te hebben. Niemand was echter bij ons getroffen,\ndaar al ons volk zich omlaag hield. Hij maakte zich tot een nieuwen\naanval, en wij tot verdediging gereed; doch toen hij ons op de andere\nzijde aan boord kwam, enterde hij met negentig man, die dadelijk het\ntuig kapten en het dek. Twee maal dreven wij hen met klein geweervuur,\nhalve pieken, handgranaten, enz., van ons dek af. Eindelijk echter, om\ndeze treurige geschiedenis te bekorten, was ons schip reddeloos, twee of\ndrie van ons volk gedood en acht gewond; en wij, genoodzaakt ons over te\ngeven, werden allen als gevangenen in Sal\u00e9, eene Moorsche haven op de\nBarbarijsche kust, binnengebragt.\nDe Mooren behandelden mij niet zoo verschrikkelijk als ik gevreesd had,\nen ik werd niet, zoo als al de overigen, naar den keizer gebragt; maar\ndoor den kapitein van den kaper tot zijn slaaf genomen, daar ik jong en\nvlug was en hij begreep dienst van mij te zullen hebben. Bij deze\ndroevige lotwisseling, van een koopman in een armen slaaf, was ik als\nverplet; en thans herinnerde ik mij mijns vaders voorzegging dat ik\nongelukkig worden, en niemand mij troosten zou. Ik dacht, dat dit\noogenblik thans gekomen en de straffende hand des Hemels op mij lag.\nHelaas, het was slechts eene voorproef van de ellende die mij in 't\nvervolg te wachten stond.\nDaar mijn meester mij met zich naar zijn huis genomen had, hoopte ik dat\nhij mij mede naar zee zou nemen; en dat hij dan te eeniger tijd door een\nSpaansch of Portugeesch schip genomen worden en ik mijne vrijheid\nhierdoor verkrijgen zou. Doch deze hoop verdween spoedig, want toen hij\nin zee stak, liet hij mij aan den wal om zijn tuintje in orde te houden\nen het gewone huiswerk der slaven te verrigten; en toen hij van zijn\nkruistogt terug kwam, liet hij mij aan boord slapen om op het schip te\npassen.\nIk dacht aan niets dan aan de vlugt, maar hoe ik zon, ik kon geen\nuitvoerlijk middel uitdenken, en ik had niemand met wien ik overleggen\nof die met mij gaan kon, want buiten mij was er geen enkele Engelschman,\nIer of Schot. Twee jaren lang bleef ik dan ook het denkbeeld, van te\nontvlugten, koesteren, zonder dat zich immer eene gunstige gelegenheid\nvoordeed, het uit te voeren.\nNa twee jaren verlevendigde eene gebeurtenis weder al mijne gedachten\nvan ontvlugting. Mijn meester bleef langer tijd dan gewoonlijk aan wal,\nzonder zijn schip uit te rusten, uit gebrek aan geld, naar ik hoorde, en\nin dien tijd ging hij een paar malen 's weeks en meer, als het goed\nweder was, met de scheepspinas op de reede visschen. Hij nam dan altijd\nmij en een jongen Moor mede om te roeijen; wij trachtten dan hem te\nvermaken, en daar ik behendig en gelukkig in het visschen was, zond hij\nmij somtijds, als hij visch verlangde, met een zijner bloedverwanten en\nden knaap op de vischvangst uit.\nOp een morgen waren wij bij stil weder met hem uit visschen, toen er\nplotseling zulk een dikke mist opkwam, dat wij de kust uit het oog\nverloren, schoon wij er geene halve mijl van af waren. Wij roeiden dus\nden geheelen dag en nacht, zonder te weten waarheen, en toen de zon\nopkwam zagen wij, dat wij zeewaarts, in plaats van naar den wal, geroeid\nhadden, en er wel twee mijlen van af waren. Wij kwamen behouden weder\nbinnen, schoon niet zonder gevaar en met zwaar werken; en bovenal\nduchtig uitgehongerd.\nHierdoor geleerd, besloot de kapitein in het vervolg voorzigtiger te\nzijn, en daar hij de groote boot van ons schip medegenomen had, besloot\nhij niet meer zonder een kompas en eenige mondbehoeften uit visschen te\ngaan. Hij gelastte hierom zijn scheepstimmerman (een Engelsche slaaf\neven als ik), midden in de boot eene hut of roef te bouwen, even als van\neen tentjagtje, van achteren met een stuurstoel en van voren plaats voor\neen paar man, om de zeilen te hanteren. Deze boot voerde een latijn- of\ndriehoekig zeil, en de giek liep over de tent, waarin hij met een paar\nslaven zitten en slapen kon, en een tafel had om aan te eten en eenige\nkastjes, om eenige flesschen drank, benevens rijst, brood en koffij te\nbewaren.\nMet deze boot gingen wij dikwijls uit visschen, en daar ik zeer bedreven\ner in was, nam hij mij altijd mede. Op zekeren dag zou ik er mede\nuitgaan, hetzij om te visschen of alleen tot vermaak, met twee of drie\nMooren van eenigen rang. Hij had derhalve den vorigen avond veel meer\nmondbehoeften dan gewoonlijk aan boord gezonden, en mij gelast drie\ngeweren met kruid en lood, die aan boord van het schip waren, gereed te\nleggen, om tevens eenig gevogelte te kunnen schieten.\nIk maakte alles gereed en den volgenden morgen lag de boot schoon\ngemaakt, en met vlag en wimpel, mijn meester en zijne gasten af te\nwachten, toen de eerste alleen kwam en mij zeide, dat zijne gasten door\nbezigheden verhinderd werden; ik moest dus maar met den matroos en den\njongen, volgens gewoonte, uit visschen gaan, want zijne vrienden zouden\nhet avondmaal bij hem komen gebruiken. Zoodra ik eenigen visch had,\nmoest ik naar huis keeren en hem dien brengen.\nThans kwam het oude denkbeeld van te ontvlugten bij mij weder boven. Nu\nik een vaartuig had en mijn meester weg was, maakte ik alles gereed,\nniet om te visschen, maar voor eene reis. Ik wist wel niet waarheen ik\nden steven zou wenden, maar hieraan bekreunde ik mij niet, zoo ik\nslechts vandaar weg kwam.\nEerst zocht ik een voorwendsel, om den Moor over te halen, dat hij wat\neten aan boord bragt; ik zeide hem, dat het ons niet paste het eten van\nonzen meester aan te spreken. Dat is waar, zeide hij, en bragt een\ngrooten zak roesk, of Moorsche beschuit, en drie groote kruiken met\nwater in de boot. Ik wist waar mijn meesters likeurkist stond, die, naar\nhet maaksel te zien, uit een Engelschen prijs afkomstig was, en bragt\ndie aan boord terwijl de Moor aan den wal was. Ook nam ik nog een klomp\nwas van wel vijftig pond aan boord, om kaarsen van te maken, met een pak\ngaren, eene bijl, een zaag, en een hamer, 't geen ons alles naderhand\nvoortreffelijk te pas kwam, vooral het was. Ik spande mijn makker nog\neen strik, naar hij argeloos in liep. \"Muley,\" zeide ik, \"de geweren van\nonzen meester zijn aan boord; zoo gij wat kruid en lood verschaffen\nkondt, zouden wij misschien voor ons eenige alkamis (eene soort van\nwulpen) kunnen schieten, want ik weet dat er kruid en lood aan boord van\nhet schip is.\"--\"Ja,\" zeide hij, \"ik zal het gaan halen.\" Hij bragt ook\neen lederen zak, die ongeveer anderhalf pond kruid bevatte, en een\nanderen met hagel en eenige kogels. Middelerwijl had ik ook nog eenig\nkruid in de tent gevonden en daarmede eene flesch gevuld, na hetgeen er\nin was, in eene andere overgegoten te hebben.\nAldus van het noodige voorzien, zeilden wij de haven uit. Aan het\nkasteel, dat aan den ingang van de haven ligt, kende men ons, en liet\nons ongehinderd doorgaan, en toen wij een vierde mijl in zee waren,\nhaalden wij het zeil in en gingen aan het visschen. De wind was N.N.O.,\nhetgeen ik zeer ongelukkig trof. Zoo hij zuidelijk geweest was, had ik\nligtelijk de Spaansche kust, ten minste de baai van Cadix kunnen\nbereiken. Ik besloot echter deze akelige plaats te ontvlugten, hoe ook\nde wind zijn mogt, en het verdere aan het lot over te laten.\nNa eenigen tijd gevischt en niets gevangen te hebben, want als ik beet\nhad, haalde ik niet op, zeide ik tot den Moor: \"zoo gaat het niet; dit\nzal onzen meester weinig baten, wij moeten dieper in zee gaan.\" Hij\nvermoedde niets kwaads, maar stemde er in toe, en daar hij voor in de\nboot was, stelde hij de zeilen. Daar ik aan het roer zat, liet ik het\neene mijl in zee loopen, en draaide toen bij als om te visschen. Ik gaf\ndaarop den jongen het roer, liep naar voren, bukte als om iets op te\nrapen, greep den Moor onverhoeds bij den gordel, en wierp hem over\nboord. Hij kwam bijkans op hetzelfde oogenblik boven, want hij zwom als\neen visch, en smeekte mij hem op te nemen, terwijl hij zwoer mij overal\nter wereld te willen volgen. Hij zwom zoo vlug, dat hij, daar er weinig\nwind was, de boot spoedig ingehaald zou hebben. Ik ging dus naar de\nkajuit, haalde er een geweer uit en legde op hem aan. \"Zoo gij mij\nongemoeid laat, zal ik u geen kwaad doen,\" zeide ik, \"maar zoo gij de\nboot nadert, zal ik u een kogel door het hoofd jagen. De zee is stil, en\ngij kunt gemakkelijk naar den wal zwemmen. Ik wil mijne vrijheid weder\nhebben.\" Hij keerde zich om en zwom naar het strand, dat hij zeker zal\nbereikt hebben, want hij zwom uitmuntend.\nIk zou dezen Moor wel hebben kunnen medenemen en den jongen over boord\nwerpen, maar het was niet raadzaam geweest hem te vertrouwen. Toen hij\nweg was zeide ik tot den knaap, die Xury heette: \"Zoo gij mij getrouw\nwilt blijven, Xury, zal ik een man van u maken, maar zoo gij niet bij\nMahomed en zijn vaders baard mij trouw wilt zweren, zal ik u ook over\nboord werpen.\" De knaap zag mij zoo onschuldig aan, dat ik hem niet kon\nwantrouwen, en zwoer mij getrouw te zijn, en tot aan het einde der\nwereld te zullen vergezellen.\nZoo lang ik in het gezigt van den Moor bleef, hield ik het bij den wind,\nopdat hij denken zou, dat ik naar den mond van de Straat van Gibraltar\nstevende (gelijk ieder verstandig mensch verwachten moest); want wie kon\nonderstellen, dat ik zuidwaarts naar de Barbarijsche kust zoude gaan,\nwaar geheele negerstammen ons met hunne kanoes konden omringen en\ndooden; waar wij nimmer aan wal konden gaan, om niet door wilde dieren\nof nog woester menschen verslonden te worden?\nZoodra het echter duister werd, veranderde ik van koers, en stuurde\nZ.Z.O., om niet te ver van de kust af te raken. De wind was stevig, de\nzee kalm, zoo dat ik geloof, dat ik den volgenden middag te drie uren,\ntoen ik het eerst land zag, ten minste vijftig mijlen van Sal\u00e9, buiten\nhet gebied van den Marokkaanschen keizer of eenig ander vorst was, want\nwij zagen niemand.\nDe angst en vrees van weder in de handen der Mooren te vallen, weerhield\nmij aan land te gaan of te ankeren, ik bleef vijf dagen lang met\ndenzelfden wind voortzeilen; daar toen de wind zuidelijk liep, besloot\nik, dat, zoo men mij nagejaagd had, de Mooren nu ook de jagt moesten\nopgeven. Dus ankerde ik in den mond van een riviertje, ik weet niet op\nwat hoogte, noch in welk land of bij wat volk. Ik zag niemand, waar ik\nook niet naar verlangde; zoet water was het voornaamste wat ik noodig\nhad. Met den avond liepen wij de kreek binnen, en besloten, zoodra het\nduister zou zijn, naar den wal te zwemmen, en het land te verkennen;\nmaar weldra hoorden wij zulk een verschrikkelijk gebrul, gehuil en\ngeblaf van wilde dieren, welke, was ons onbekend, dat de arme knaap\nschier van vrees bezweek en mij bezwoer niet v\u00f3\u00f3r den dag aan land te\ngaan. \"Ik zal wachten tot het dag is, Xury,\" zeide ik, \"maar dan kunnen\nwij menschen ontmoeten, die even kwaad jegens ons gezind zijn als deze\nleeuwen.\"--\"Dan zullen wij schieten en ze wegjagen,\" zeide Xury\nlagchende. Hij had van Engelsche slaven wat gebroken Engelsch geleerd.\nIk was blijde, dat hij zoo welgemoed was, en gaf hem een slokje uit mijn\nmeesters likeurkistje.--Ook scheen zijn raad het verstandigst; dus\nlieten wij ons anker vallen en rustten dien nacht; hoewel wij niet\nslapen konden, want twee of drie uren later zagen wij groote wilde\nbeesten, wier naam ons onbekend was, naar het strand komen, en zich in\nhet water storten als om zich af te koelen, onder een gehuil en gebrul\nzoo hevig als ik nimmer gehoord had.\nXury was half dood van angst en ik ook; maar het werd nog erger, toen\nwij een dier geweldige beesten naar onze boot hoorden toezwemmen; wij\nkonden hem niet zien, maar hoorden zijn verschrikkelijk gesnuif. Xury\nzeide, dat het een leeuw was, hetgeen wel waar zijn kon, en riep, dat\nwij het anker ligten en wegroeijen moesten. \"Neen Xury,\" zeide ik, \"wij\nkunnen ons touw laten glippen met een boei er op; hij kan ons niet\nvervolgen.\" Naauwelijks had ik dit gezegd, of ik zag geen twee\nriemslengten van mij af het beest, hetgeen mij een weinig van mijn stuk\nbragt. Ik ging echter dadelijk in de tent, nam een geweer en schoot op\nhet dier, dat dadelijk omkeerde en naar het strand zwom.\nMaar onmogelijk is 't dat akelig gehuil en gebrul te beschrijven, dat\nzoowel aan het strand als dieper in het land ontstond, na het geraas van\nhet schot, iets, wat deze dieren waarschijnlijk nimmer te voren gehoord\nhadden. Dit bewees, dat het niet veilig was dien nacht op de kust te\ngaan; en hoe het bij dag zijn zou, was eene andere vraag, want het was\neven erg in de handen der wilden, als in de klaauwen der leeuwen en\ntijgers te vallen; wij althans waren voor beide even bang.\nWij moesten evenwel hier of daar aan wal gaan, om water in te nemen,\nwant wij hadden geen pintje meer; de vraag was maar waar wij het zouden\nvinden. Xury zeide dat, als ik hem met een der kruiken naar den wal liet\ngaan, hij wel water vinden en mij brengen zou. Ik vroeg hem waarom hij\ngaan en niet liever in de boot blijven wilde. Hij antwoordde mij met\neene genegenheid, die mij hem voor altijd deed liefhebben: \"Als de\nwildemans komen, zij mij eten en gij heengaan.\"--\"Neen Xury,\" zeide ik,\n\"wij zullen beide gaan, en als de wilden komen zullen wij hen\ndoodschieten en zij ons geen van beiden eten.\" Vervolgens gaf ik Xury\neen stuk beschuit en een borrel, en wij haalden de boot zoo digt naar\nden wal als wij konden, en waadden daarop naar het strand, met niets dan\nonze wapenen en twee kruiken om te vullen, bij ons. Naderhand vonden\nwij, dat wij zoo veel moeite niet noodig gehad hadden om water, want een\nweinig verder in de kreek vonden wij bij laag water het water zoet.\nIk wilde de boot niet uit het oog verliezen, uit vrees, dat de wilden\nmet kanoes de rivier af mogten komen, maar de knaap zag een kwartier\nuurs verder eene laagte, en liep daarheen; na korten tijd zag ik hem\nterug komen. Denkende, dat hij door een verscheurend dier of wilden\nvervolgd werd, liep ik naar hem toe, om hem bij te staan. Toen ik echter\ndigt bij hem kwam, zag ik, dat hij over zijn schouder een dier had\nhangen, dat hij geschoten had, naar een haas gelijkende, maar langer van\nbeenen en anders van haar. Wij waren er zeer mede in onzen schik, want\nhet leverde ons een uitmuntend middagmaal op. Xury had er vooral zijne\nvreugde in, dat hij goed water en geene wilden aangetroffen had.\nWij vulden dus onze kruiken, aten den haas, dien wij gedood hadden, en\nbesloten te vertrekken, zonder dat wij eenig spoor van menschen\nvoetstappen in die landstreek gezien hadden.\nDaar ik reeds eene reis op de kust gedaan had, wist ik, dat de\nKanarische en Kaap Verdische eilanden niet veraf waren; maar daar ik\ngeen werktuigen had, om hoogte te nemen, wist ik niet juist waar wij\nwaren, noch op welke hoogte zij lagen, anders had ik gemakkelijk een\nkunnen bereiken. Ik hoopte echter het langs de kust te houden, tot daar,\nwaar de Engelschen handel drijven, en daar een hunner vaartuigen te\nontmoeten.\nVoor zoo veel ik berekenen kon was ik in de landstreek, die tusschen het\ngebied van den Marokkaanschen keizer en het land der Negers ligt, en\nwoest en alleen door wilde dieren bewoond is; daar de Negers haar\nverlaten hebben, en uit vrees voor de Mooren zuidelijker getrokken zijn;\nterwijl de laatsten haar om hare barheid niet willen bewonen; en er\nslechts komen om er groote jagten, met twee- tot drieduizend man, te\nhouden. Ook zagen wij bij dag niets dan een dor onbewoond land, en\nhoorden 's nachts niets dan het gehuil der wilde dieren.\nEens of twee maal meende ik den Piek van Teneriffe te zien, en had veel\nlust te trachten dien te bereiken; maar twee maal werd ik door\ntegenwinden teruggedreven, ook ging de zee dan te hoog voor mijne boot,\ndus besloot ik mijn eerste voornemen te volgen, en het langs de kust te\nhouden.\nVerscheidene malen moest ik aan land gaan, om zoet water in te nemen.\nEens lieten wij daarom het anker vallen bij eene hooge landtong. Het was\nvroeg in den ochtend, en daar de vloed doorkwam, wilden wij wachten om\ndieper landwaarts in te kunnen gaan. Xury, wiens gezigt scherper was dan\nhet mijne, riep mij zacht en zeide, dat het best ware zoo wij verder van\nhet strand gingen, terwijl hij mij een verschrikkelijk grooten leeuw\nwees, die tegen de zijde van den heuvel lag te slapen. \"Ga naar den wal,\nXury,\" zeide ik, \"en schiet dien leeuw dood.\" Hij beefde echter van\nschrik, en zeide: \"Hij mij dooden! Ik een mond voor hem.\" Hij meende een\nmond vol. Zonder hem meer te zeggen wenkte ik hem, dat hij stil zou\nzijn, en nam mijn grootste geweer, en laadde het met twee kogels en eene\ngoede lading kruid; even zoo het tweede, en op het derde geweer deed ik\nvijf kleinere kogels. Ik mikte zoo goed ik kon met het eerste, om hem in\nden kop te treffen; maar daar hij op zijn buik lag, met zijne voorpooten\nvoor zijn muil, trof ik een van deze op de hoogte van de knie. Brullende\nsprong hij op, doch viel dadelijk weder neder; spoedig echter stond hij\nweder op drie pooten en liet een allerafgrijsselijkst gebrul hooren. Ik\nnam dadelijk het tweede geweer en juist toen hij heen wilde gaan, trof\nik hem in den kop, en had het genoegen hem in stuiptrekkingen te zien\nneerzijgen, terwijl hij weinig geluid meer gaf. Toen kreeg Xury weder\nmoed en wilde, dat ik hem aan wal liet gaan. \"Welnu ga,\" zeide ik. Hij\nnam in de eene hand een geweer, zwom met de andere naar het strand, en\nbij het dier gekomen, hield hij den tromp van het geweer in zijn oor, en\nschoot hem nogmaals door het hoofd, waarop hij dadelijk stierf.\nHet was een fraaije jagt, maar slecht voedsel voor ons, en het speet mij\nthans genoeg, dat ik drie ladingen kruid en lood verspild had, om een\ndier te dooden, dat ons tot niets nut was. Xury wilde toch iets van hem\nhebben, dus kwam hij weder aan boord en verzocht mij om de bijl. \"Waarom\nXury?\" vroeg ik. \"Ik hem den kop afhakken,\" zeide hij. Dit kon hij\nechter niet en dus vergenoegde hij zich met een poot, die waarlijk\nmonsterachtig groot was.\nIk bedacht mij echter, dat misschien zijne huid ons van eenige dienst\nkon zijn, dus besloot ik hem te villen. Xury en ik gingen aan het werk,\nmaar Xury verstond zich veel beter op dit werk dan ik. Wij waren er den\ngeheelen dag mede bezig; maar eindelijk waren wij er mede gereed en\nspanden de huid over de tent van onze boot; de zon droogde haar in twee\ndagen, en naderhand diende zij mij om op te liggen.\nVervolgens liepen wij tien of twaalf dagen zuidwaarts, en hielden zeer\nzuinig met onze levensmiddelen huis, die echter sterk verminderden, en\ngingen alleen aan land als wij water moesten innemen. Ik wilde de rivier\nGambia of Senegal, dat wil zeggen, de hoogte van Kaap Verd bereiken,\nomdat ik daar Europesche schepen hoopte te ontmoeten. Zoo dit niet het\ngeval was, wist ik niet wat te doen, dan de eilanden op te zoeken of\nonder de Negers om te komen. Ik wist, dat al de schepen van Europa, naar\nde kust van Guinea of Brazili\u00eb bestemd, de Kaap Verdische eilanden\nnaderen. In \u00e9\u00e9n woord, ik had geen ander uitzigt, dan de kans van door\neen schip gezien te worden of den dood.\nGelijk gezegd is, had ik tien dagen lang dit plan gevolgd, toen ik begon\nte bespeuren, dat het land bewoond was; op twee of drie plaatsen zagen\nwij, toen wij voorbij zeilden, volk op het strand staan; zij waren zwart\nen geheel naakt. Eens was ik voornemens aan land en naar hen toe te\ngaan, maar Xury ried mij ten beste, en zeide: \"Niet gaan, niet gaan.\"\nEchter hield ik het digt langs de kust, om tot hen te kunnen spreken, en\nzag, dat zij een groot eind weegs mede liepen. Zij waren zonder wapenen,\nbehalve een man, die een langen dunnen stok in de hand had, welke Xury\nmij zeide, dat een werpspies was, en dat zij daar op verren afstand\nzeer juist mede weten te treffen; ik hield mij dus op een voegzamen\nafstand, maar gaf hun door teekens te kennen, dat ik voornamelijk wat\neten wenschte. Zij wezen mij, dat ik de boot stil zou doen liggen, en\ndat zij mij wat spijs zouden bezorgen. Ik streek mijn zeil gedeeltelijk\nen draaide bij, en twee hunner liepen landwaarts in, en kwamen een\nhalfuur daarna terug, met twee stukken gedroogd vleesch, en eenig koorn,\ngelijk het land daar oplevert. Hoewel wij niet wisten wat een van beide\nwas, wilden wij het gaarne aannemen. Maar de vraag was hoe er aan te\nkomen, want ik wilde mij niet op het strand tusschen hen wagen, en zij\nschenen even bevreesd voor ons. Zij wisten echter raad, want zij bragten\nen legden het aan het strand, gingen een groot eind weegs terug tot wij\nhet aan boord genomen hadden, en kwamen toen weder digter bij ons.\nWij maakten hun teekens van dankzegging, want anders hadden wij niet;\ndoch op datzelfde oogenblik had ik gelegenheid hun eene goede dienst te\ndoen. Toen wij vlak bij het strand lagen, kwamen er twee verschrikkelijk\ngroote wilde dieren, de een den ander vervolgende (naar het ons\ntoescheen) van het gebergte zeewaarts loopen. Wij wisten niet of het\nmannetje het wijfje achtervolgde, en evenmin of hunne verschijning iets\ngewoons of ongewoons was. Ik geloof echter het laatste, want vooreerst\nkomen de verscheurende dieren zelden anders dan des nachts te\nvoorschijn; ten tweede waren de Negers, vooral de vrouwen, doodelijk\nverschrikt. De man die de lans droeg hield stand, maar al de overigen\nsloegen op de vlugt. Echter liepen de dieren regt op de zee aan, zonder\ner aan te denken de Negers aan te vallen, en sprongen in het water, naar\nhet scheen, om zich te verfrisschen. Ten laatste kwam een hunner digter\nbij de boot dan ik verwachtte, maar ik was gereed hem te ontvangen, want\nik had zoo spoedig mogelijk mijn geweer geladen, en zeide Xury, dat hij\nde beide anderen zou laden. Zoodra hij binnen schot kwam, gaf ik vuur en\ntrof hem vlak in den kop. Oogenblikkelijk dook hij, doch kwam spoedig\nweder boven, hetgeen hij verscheidene malen herhaalde, naar het scheen\nmet den dood worstelende. Hij trachtte het strand te bereiken, maar v\u00f3\u00f3r\ndien tijd was hij reeds dood.\nHet is onmogelijk de verbazing van die arme schepsels te beschrijven,\nbij het zien en hooren van mijn schot. Velen schenen half dood van vrees\nen vielen van schrik neder. Doch toen zij het dier dood zagen, en ik hun\nwees, dat zij naar het water zouden komen, vatten zij moed en begonnen\nhet dier op te zoeken. Aan het bloed, dat op het water opkwam, bespeurde\nik waar hij lag, en met een touw, dat ik om hem sloeg en de Negers liet\ninhalen, sleepten zij het op strand. Het was een bijzonder gevlekte en\nschoone luipaard, en de Negers hieven van verbazing, dat ik hem gedood\nhad, de handen omhoog.\nHet andere beest, door den slag en het vuur van mijn geweer verschrikt,\nzwom naar den wal en vloog naar het gebergte, vanwaar het gekomen was.\nDe verte belette mij te zien welk dier het was. Ik bemerkte spoedig dat\nde Negers het luipaardenvleesch eten, en wilde het dus als eene gunst\nvan mij geven. Toen ik hun door teekens te kennen gaf, dat zij hem nemen\nzouden, waren zij er zeer dankbaar voor. Ofschoon zij geen messen\nhadden, vilden zij hem met een scherp hout zoo vlug, ja veel vlugger dan\nwij het met messen hadden kunnen doen. Zij boden mij een deel van het\nvleesch aan, dat ik weigerde en hun door teekens te kennen gaf, dat ik\nhun alles schonk, doch ik wees hun dat ik de huid hebben wilde, die zij\nmij dadelijk gaven, met eene menigte van hunnen voorraad, dien ik\naannam, zonder te weten wat ik er mede doen zou. Vervolgens gaf ik door\nteekens mijn verlangen naar water te kennen, en hield hun ten dien einde\neene onzer ledige kruiken omgekeerd voor, om hun te doen zien, dat die\nledig was, en gevuld moest worden. Zij riepen dadelijk eenigen hunner,\nen twee vrouwen kwamen met eene groote pot, van klei gemaakt en in de\nzon gedroogd, naar ik denk; deze plaatsten zij voor mij, en ik zond Xury\nmet mijne kruiken aan het strand, die ze daaruit vulde. De vrouwen waren\nzoo wel naakt als de mannen.\nIk was thans voorzien van wortelen en koorn, zoo als het was, en van\nwater. Ik verliet dan mijne vriendelijke Negers, en stevende nog elf\ndagen in dezelfde rigting, zonder te beproeven de kust te naderen; tot\ndat ik het land een groot eind in zee zag loopen, op ongeveer vier of\nvijf mijlen voor mij uit. Daar de zee zeer kalm was, hield ik zeewaarts,\nom deze landtong om te zeilen. Eindelijk dezelve op ongeveer twee mijlen\nvan het land omgezeild zijnde, zag ik duidelijk land aan de andere zijde\nzeewaarts. Ik besloot dus, gelijk zeker wel het geval zal geweest zijn,\ndat dit Kaap Verd was, en dat gindsche eilanden, die waren, welke naar\ndezelve Kaap Verdische eilanden heeten. Zij lagen echter op een grooten\nafstand; en ik wist niet wat mij best te doen stond, want zoo ik door\neene windvlaag overvallen werd, zou ik nimmer de eene noch de andere\nbereiken.\nIn deze verlegenheid stapte ik geheel verslagen in de tent en ging daar\nzitten, terwijl ik Xury aan het roer had gelaten. Eensklaps riep de\njongen: \"Meester, meester, een schip, een zeil!\" De arme jongen bestierf\nhet schier van angst, denkende, dat het niet anders zijn kon dan een van\nzijn meesters schepen, uitgezonden om ons te vervolgen. Ik echter wist\nwel, dat wij ver genoeg buiten zijn bereik waren. Ik sprong uit de\nkajuit, en zag niet alleen dadelijk het schip, maar ook wat het was;\nnamelijk een Portugeesch schip, en, zoo als ik dacht, naar de kust van\nGuinea bestemd, om slaven te halen. Toen ik echter zag welken koers het\nhield, werd ik spoedig overtuigd dat het eene andere bestemming had, en\nniet voornemens was digter bij de kust te komen. Ik hield het dus\nzeewaarts, zoo veel ik kon, met oogmerk, zoo mogelijk, het te praaijen.\nIk bemerkte dat ik met al het zeil, dat ik voeren kon, bijgezet, nog\nniet in hunnen koers kon komen, maar dat zij mij voorbij zijn zouden,\nvoor ik hun eenig sein had kunnen doen, doch na zoo veel ik kon\nopgeloefd te hebben, en toen ik reeds begon te wanhopen, zagen zij, naar\nhet scheen, mij door hunne kijkers, en dat het eene boot van Europeesch\nmaaksel was, die zij onderstelden dat een schip moest behooren, dat\nvergaan was; dus minderden zij zeil, om mij op zijde te laten komen. Dit\nmoedigde mij aan, en daar ik een vlag van mijn ouden meester aan boord\nhad, heesch ik die in sjouw, tot een noodsein, en vuurde een geweer af.\nZij zagen beide, want naderhand werd mij verhaald, dat zij den rook\ngezien, maar den slag niet gehoord hadden. Op deze seinen brasten zij\ntegen, en in ongeveer drie uren tijds was ik hen op zijde.\nMen vroeg mij in het Portugeesch, in het Spaansch en in het Fransch wie\nik was; van al hetwelk ik niets verstond; maar eindelijk sprak een\nSchotsche zeeman, die aan boord was, mij aan, en ik antwoordde hem,\nzeggende, dat ik een Engelschman was, die de slavernij der Mooren van\nSal\u00e9 ontvlugt was. Daarop verzocht men mij aan boord te komen, en nam\nmij en al mijne goederen zeer goedhartig op.\nHet was eene onuitsprekelijke vreugde voor mij, gelijk iedereen wel zal\nwillen gelooven, dat ik mij uit een zoo jammerlijken en schier\nhopeloozen toestand, waarin ik mij bevonden had, gelijk ik begreep,\ngered zag. Oogenblikkelijk bood ik den kapitein van het schip alles aan\nwat ik bezat, tot vergelding van mijne bevrijding; maar hij gaf mij\nedelmoediglijk te kennen, dat hij niets van mij aannemen, maar dat mij\nalles wat ik had zou ter hand gesteld worden, als wij behouden in\nBrazili\u00eb aankwamen. \"Want,\" zeide hij, \"ik heb u het leven gered, even\nzoo als ik in uwen toestand gaarne zou gered willen worden; en het kan\nte een of anderen tijd gebeuren, dat dit ook mijn lot wordt. Bovendien,\"\nvervolgde hij, \"als ik u naar Brazili\u00eb medeneem, zoo ver van uw\nvaderland, en ik zou u het weinige ontnemen wat gij hebt, zoudt gij daar\nvan honger sterven, en ik zou dan u slechts gered hebben, om u weder in\ndoodsgevaar te brengen. Neen, neen, Senhor Inglese (mijnheer de\nEngelschman), ik zal u uit Christelijke liefde daarheen brengen, en wat\ngij hebt zal u daar wel te pas komen, om er van te leven, en uwe\ntehuisreis te bekostigen.\"\nEven menschlievend als dit voorstel was, even strikt was hij in de\nuitvoering daarvan, want hij gelastte den matrozen volstrekt niets aan\nte raken van hetgeen ik had; daarna nam hij zelf alles in ontvangst, en\ngaf er mij eene juiste inventaris van, ten einde mij bij onze aankomst\nalles te kunnen terug geven, zelfs tot mijne drie aarden kruiken toe.\nHij zag dat mijne boot zeer goed was, en stelde mij voor die aan hem ten\ngebruike van het schip te verkoopen, en vroeg mij wat ik er voor hebben\nwilde. Ik zeide, dat hij in alles zoo edelmoedig jegens mij gehandeld\nhad, dat ik geenerlei prijs op de boot kon stellen, maar alles aan hem\noverliet. Hij zeide mij daarop, dat hij mij een briefje van zijne hand\nzou geven, om er mij 80 stukken van achten te Brazili\u00eb voor te geven; en\nals iemand er mij daar meer voor wilde geven, zou hij mij haar terug\ngeven. Hij bood mij ook nog 60 stukken van achten voor den knaap, Xury.\nIk had hier veel tegen, niet dat ik hem niet aan den kapitein wilde\nafstaan, maar ik had een we\u00earzin om de vrijheid van den armen knaap te\nverkoopen, die mij zoo trouw geholpen had, de mijne te herkrijgen. Toen\nik den kapitein mijne redenen zeide, billijkte hij die volkomen, en bood\nmij, als een middel om alles te vereffenen, aan, den knaap eene\nverbindtenis te geven, dat hij hem, zoo hij Christen werd, binnen tien\njaren zou vrijlaten. Daar Xury zeide, dat hij hiermede tevreden was,\nstond ik hem aan den kapitein af.\nWij hadden eene zeer goede reis naar Brazili\u00eb, en kwamen twee\u00ebntwintig\ndagen daarna in de baai de Todos los Santos of Allerheiligenbaai aan. En\nnu was ik weder gered uit den allerrampzaligsten toestand. Thans moest\nik overleggen wat mij nu te doen stond. Het edelmoedige gedrag van den\nkapitein jegens mij, kan ik nimmer genoeg prijzen. Hij wilde niets van\ngeld voor den overtogt hooren, gaf mij 20 dukaten voor de huid van den\nluipaard, 40 voor die van den leeuw, welke ik in de boot had gehad, en\nzorgde, dat al wat ik aan boord gebragt had, mij stipt werd\nteruggegeven. Wat ik verkoopen wilde, kocht hij; zoo als den\nflesschenkelder; twee van mijne geweren, en een gedeelte van den klomp\nwas, want van het overige had ik kaarsen gemaakt. In een woord, ik\nmaakte ongeveer 220 stukken van achten van mijne geheele lading, en met\ndit geld ging ik in Brazili\u00eb aan wal.\nIk begaf mij kort daarop, op aanbeveling van den kapitein naar het huis\nvan een zoo goed, braaf man als hij zelf was, die een ingenio, gelijk\nmen het noemt, dat is, eene plantaadje en suikerfabrijk had. Ik bleef\ndaar eenigen tijd, en leerde de wijze, waarop de suiker geteeld en\ngefabriceerd wordt. Ziende hoe goed de planters leefden, en hoe spoedig\nrijk zij werden, besloot ik, als ik er verlof toe bekomen kon, mij daar\nte vestigen, en even als zij, een planter te worden; terwijl ik tevens\nop middelen zon, om mijn geld, dat ik te Londen had, aan mij overgemaakt\nte krijgen. Te dien einde verschafte ik mij eene soort van brieven van\nnaturalisatie, kocht zoo veel onbebouwd land als ik betalen kon, en\nmaakte een plan tot eene plantaadje, ge\u00ebvenredigd naar het kapitaal, dat\nik uit Engeland verwachtte.\nIk had een buurman, Wells genaamd, die te Lissabon, doch van Engelsche\nouders geboren was, en zich nagenoeg in gelijke omstandigheden als ik\nbevond. Ik noem hem mijn buurman, om dat zijne plantaadje naast de mijne\nlag, en wij zeer vriendschappelijk omgingen. Mijn kapitaal was even\ngering als het zijne, en gedurende twee jaren plantten wij slechts, om\nonze dagelijksche nooddruft te winnen. Wij begonnen echter vooruit te\ngaan, en onze landerijen in orde te komen, zoodat wij in het derde jaar\neenigen tabak plantten, en ieder eene groote plek gronds gereed maakten,\nom het volgend jaar suikerrietstekken op te zetten. Het ontbrak ons\nechter aan hulp, en nu gevoelde ik meer dan te voren, dat ik verkeerd\ngedaan had, mijn jongen, Xury, niet te houden.\nMaar helaas, was het wonder dat ik, die nimmer iets goed deed, zulk een\nmisslag beging! Er zat thans niet anders op dan vol te houden. Ik had\nthans een beroep, dat geheel strijdig was met mijn karakter, en met de\nlevenswijze waarnaar ik haakte, waarvoor ik mijn vaders huis verlaten,\nen al zijn goeden raad in den wind had geslagen. Ja, ik was thans\ninderdaad in dien levenstoestand geraakt, waarvoor mijn vader mij\ngewaarschuwd had, en welken ik even goed had kunnen bereiken als ik te\nhuis was gebleven, zonder mij ooit zoo in de wereld af te slooven, als\nik gedaan had. Dikwijls zeide ik tot mijzelven: \"Zoo had ik even goed in\nEngeland, onder mijne bloedverwanten, kunnen werken, en daarvoor\nbehoefde ik geen 5000 (Eng.) mijlen ver van huis te gaan, om dit onder\nvreemdelingen in eene wildernis te doen, zoo ver weg, dat ik nimmer iets\nvan mijn vaderland, of iemand, die mij kent, hoor.\"\nAldus beschouwde ik mijn toestand met bittere spijt. Ik had niemand met\nwien ik omging, dan nu en dan met mijn buurman, waarvan ik gesproken\nheb; geen anderen, dan handenarbeid te verrigten, en ik leefde, gelijk\nik dikwijls zeide, als iemand, die alleen op een woest eiland geworpen\nis. Maar o, hoe behoorden alle menschen te bedenken, dat, zoo zij den\ntoestand, waarin zij zich bevinden, met een veel rampzaliger gelijk\nstellen, de Hemel hen noodzaken kan hunnen tegenwoordigen daarvoor te\nverwisselen, en hun vroeger geluk, door de ondervinding te leeren\nerkennen! En hoe regtvaardig was het, dat juist dat eenzame leven op een\nwoest eiland mij te beurt viel, mij, die het zoo dikwijls vergeleken had\nbij het leven dat ik toen leidde, en in hetwelk ik, naar alle\nwaarschijnlijkheid, met der tijd, rijkdom en schatten zou verworven\nhebben.\nIk had reeds eenige maatregelen genomen om mij te vestigen, voor mijn\ngoede vriend, de kapitein, die mij op zee opgenomen had, weder afzeilde,\nwant hij had drie maanden in lading gelegen. Ik sprak hem over het geld,\ndat ik in Londen achtergelaten had, en hij gaf mij dezen welgezinden en\nopregten raad: \"Senhor Inglese (want zoo noemde hij mij altijd) als gij\nmij brieven en een volmagt geven wilt, met last aan den persoon, die in\nLonden uw geld heeft, van dit naar Lissabon te zenden, aan zoodanige\nlieden als ik u zal opgeven, en in goederen, die in dit land aftrek\nhebben, dan zal ik u, als het God behaagt, deze bij mijne terugkomst\nmedebrengen; maar daar alle zaken aan tegenspoeden onderhevig zijn, zou\nik u raden slechts 100 [\u00a3] Sterl., dat, gelijk gij zegt, de helft van uw\nkapitaal is, op te vragen, en deze eerst wagen. Zoo die goed overkomen,\nkunt gij het overige op gelijke wijze ontbieden, en zoo het verloren\ngaat, hebt gij de andere helft nog.\"\nDit was zulk een verstandige en vriendelijke raad, dat ik niet twijfelen\nkon, of hij was de beste dien ik volgen kon; ik maakte dus brieven aan\nde weduwe, wie ik mijn geld achtergelaten had, en eene volmagt voor den\nPortugeschen kapitein, volgens zijn verlangen, gereed. Ik schreef aan de\nweduwe al mijne avonturen, mijne vlugt; hoe ik den Portugeschen kapitein\nop zee ontmoet had; hoe menschlievend hij zich gedragen had, en wijders\nalle aanwijzingen omtrent de overzending mijner gelden. Toen de brave\nkapitein te Lissabon kwam, vond hij gelegenheid dit door eenige\nEngelsche kooplieden aldaar, te doen toekomen aan een koopman te Londen;\nwaarop zij niet alleen het geld gaf, maar bovendien den Portugeschen\nkapitein een fraai geschenk overzond, voor zijne menschlievende\nhandelwijze jegens mij.\nDe koopman te Londen besteedde deze 100 [\u00a3] aan Engelsche goederen,\ngelijk de kapitein opgegeven had, en zond die naar Lissabon, vanwaar hij\nze allen behouden in Brazili\u00eb bragt. Hieronder had hij buiten mijn\nweten, (want ik was te onervaren in mijne zaken om er aan te denken)\ngezorgd voor alle soorten van ijzerwerk en gereedschappen, die mij op\nmijne plantaadje noodig waren, en waar ik groot nut van trok.\nToen deze lading aankwam, achtte ik mijne fortuin gemaakt. Ik was\nverrukt van vreugde er over; en mijn goede vriend de kapitein had de 5\n[\u00a3] Sterl., die de weduwe hem tot een geschenk had gezonden, besteed, om\nvoor mij een dienstknecht, die zich voor zes jaren verbonden had, aan te\nschaffen; en hij wilde niets van mij aannemen dan een weinig tabak,\nomdat ik dien zelf geteeld had.\nDit was echter nog niet alles; daar al mijne goederen Engelsche\nmanufacturen waren, zoo als lakens, wollen stoffen, baai, enz., en\nalles dingen, die hier te lande bijzonder geacht en van waarde waren,\nkon ik dezelve zeer voordeelig verkoopen, zoodat ik zeggen kan, dat ik\nmeer dan vier malen de waarde van mijne eerste lading had. Nu was ik\nmijn armen buurman oneindig ver vooruit, in den staat mijner plantaadje\nbedoel ik, want ik kocht een negerslaaf, en schafte mij ook een\nEuropeschen knecht aan, behalve dien, welken de kapitein mij van\nLissabon had medegebragt.\nGelijk echter misbruikte voorspoed dikwijls de oorzaak van onzen\ntegenspoed is, zoo ging het ook met mij. Het volgende jaar ging het met\nmijne plantaadje zeer goed; ik trok van mijn eigen grond vijftig groote\nrollen tabak, ieder van meer dan 100 [lb = gewicht], en deze vijftig\nrollen werden gepakt en bleven liggen, in afwachting, dat de vloot van\nLissabon zou terugkomen. En daar nu mijne bezigheden en goederen\nvermeerderden, begon ik over allerlei ontwerpen, en ondernemingen boven\nmijn bereik, te broeden, gelijk inderdaad dikwijls de verstandigste\nkooplieden het hoofd op hol brengen.\nZoo ik in den stand gebleven was, waarin ik mij nu bevond, had ik\nruimschoots al dat geluk kunnen genieten, waarvoor mijn vader mij een\nstil, rustig leven aanried; en waarvan, gelijk hij zeide, de middelbare\nstand overvloeide. Doch andere gebeurtenissen wachtten mij, en ik moest\nop nieuw de bewerker van mijn eigen ongeluk zijn. Wat mijn misslag\nvermeerderde, en in het vervolg mijn berouw verdubbelde: al mijne\nongevallen waren het gevolg van mijn halsstarrig aanhoudend verlangen,\nom de wereld rond te zwerven, en van het opvolgen dezer begeerte, in\nweerwil van de duidelijkste vooruitzigten van welvaart en geluk, die de\nVoorzienigheid mij schonk.\nOm dit wel te verstaan, moet men onderstellen, dat ik thans vier jaren\nin Brazili\u00eb gewoond had, dat ik thans het plantaadjewerk vrij wel begon\nte verstaan, en vooruit te gaan in welvaart. Ik had niet alleen de taal\ngeleerd, maar ook met mijne medeplanters bekendschap gemaakt, zoo wel\nals met de kooplieden van San Salvador, dat onze haven was. In mijne\ngesprekken had ik hun dikwijls verhaald van mijne twee reizen naar de\nkust van Guinea; van de wijze, waarop daar de slavenhandel gedreven\nwerd, en hoe gemakkelijk het daar op de kust viel, voor beuzelingen, zoo\nals kralen, snuisterijen, messen, scharen, bijlen, spiegeltjes, niet\nalleen goudstof en olifantstanden, maar ook Negers in te ruilen, ten\ndienste van dit land.\nZij luisterden altijd zeer oplettend naar mijne gesprekken hierover,\nmaar vooral naar datgene, wat betrekking tot het koopen van Negers had,\neen handel, die toen daar weinig gedreven werd, om dat men er assientos\nof verlofbrieven van de koningen van Spanje en Portugal toe moest\nhebben, zoodat er weinig Negers, en deze zeer duur, gekocht werden.\nOp zekeren dag was ik met eenige kooplieden en planters van mijne kennis\nhierover aan het praten. Den volgenden morgen kwamen drie hunner bij\nmij, en zeiden, dat zij zeer ernstig over het gesprek van den vorigen\navond hadden nagedacht, en mij thans een voorstel kwamen doen. Na mij\ngeheimhouding afgevraagd te hebben, zeiden zij mij, dat zij lust hadden\neen schip naar de kust van Guinea uit te rusten. Alle drie hadden\nplantaadjen zoo wel als ik, en zij hadden aan niets meer behoefte dan\naan werklieden. Zij konden geen slavenhandel drijven, omdat de Negers in\nhet openbaar moesten verkocht worden; dus wilden zij slechts \u00e9\u00e9ne reis\ndoen, de Negers heimelijk aan wal brengen, en die onderling op hunne\nplantaadjen verdeelen. Kortom, de vraag was, of ik als hun supercargo\naan boord wilde gaan, om dien handel op de kust te drijven; daarvoor\nboden zij mij een gelijk aandeel in de Negers aan, zonder dat ik tot de\nuitrusting iets behoefde bij te dragen.\nDit, moet men bekennen, was een verleidelijk voorstel, zoo het gedaan\nware aan iemand, die geen eigen plantaadje te besturen had, welke fraai\nop weg was om van belang te worden, en die reeds van waarde was. Voor\nmij echter, gevestigd als ik was, die nog slechts drie of vier jaren zoo\nbehoefde voort te gaan, en de andere 100 [\u00a3] Sterl. uit Engeland te\nontbieden, en alsdan zeker 3 tot 4000 [\u00a3] Sterl. waarde bezitten zou;\nvoor mij was zulk eene reis de onverstandigste zaak die ik bedenken kon.\nMaar ik, die altijd geneigd was mij zelven te verderven, kon evenmin dit\naanbod we\u00earstaan, als mijn eerste verlangen om in de wereld rond te\nzwerven, hetgeen mijn vader mij zoo welmeenend afgeraden had. Ik zeide\nhun, dat ik gaarne vertrekken wilde, als zij mij beloofden in mijne\nafwezigheid het opzigt over mijne plantaadje te houden, en ingeval mij\neen ongeluk overkwam, daarmede te handelen, gelijk ik hun zou opgeven.\nDit namen zij aan, en verbonden zich hier schriftelijk toe. Ik maakte\neen testament, en beschikte over mijne plantaadje en goederen, ingeval\nik mogt komen te overlijden. Ik stelde tot mijn eenigsten erfgenaam den\nkapitein aan, die mij het leven gered had, onder verpligting van de\nhelft mijner roerende goederen voor zich te houden, doch de andere helft\nnaar Engeland te voeren. Kortom, ik nam alle mogelijke voorzorgen, ter\nbewaring mijner bezittingen. Zoo ik half zoo veel zorg betoond had voor\nmijn waar belang, zou ik zeker nimmer zulk eene voorspoedige zaak\nvaarwel gezegd hebben, om eene zeereis, met al hare gevaren, te gaan\ndoen, zonder te rekenen hoe veel reden ik had van ongelukken voor mij te\nverwachten.\nMaar ik werd door mijne verbeelding weggesleept, en gehoorzaamde deze\nblindelings, zonder naar mijn verstand te luisteren. Toen dus het schip\nuitgerust, de lading gereed en alles met mijne medereeders geschikt was,\nging ik wederom te kwader ure, scheep, den 1sten September 1659,\ndenzelfden dag waarop ik acht jaren geleden, mijne ouders te Hull\nverlaten had, om hun gezag te braveren en mijn eigen belang tegen te\nwerken.\nOns schip was van ongeveer 120 ton, en voerde veertien man, behalve den\nkapitein, zijn jongen en ik. Wij hadden slechts weinig lading, behalve\nde snuisterijen, die voor den handel met de Negers geschikt waren, zoo\nals glazen kralen, spiegeltjes en dergelijke.\nDenzelfden dag, dat ik aan boord kwam, gingen wij onder zeil, en hielden\nhet noordwaarts langs onze eigene kust, met oogmerk naar de Afrikaansche\nkust over te steken, als wij op de hoogte van 10\u00b0 of 12\u00b0 N. breedte\nzouden gekomen zijn, een koers dien men toen gewoonlijk hield, naar ik\ngeloof. Wij hadden goed weder, maar uiterst warm, tot wij op de hoogte\nvan kaap St. Augustijn kwamen, waar wij zeewaarts hielden en koers\nstelden, alsof wij naar het eiland Fernand de Norouba bestemd waren,\nkoers stellende N.O. ten N. In ongeveer twaalf dagen passeerden wij de\nlinie, en waren naar ons laatste bestek op 7\u00b0, 22' N. breedte, toen een\ngeweldige tornado of orkaan ons geheel buiten ons bestek bragt. Deze\nbegon in het Z.O., liep toen naar het N.W. en zette zich eindelijk in\nhet N.O., waaruit hij zoo verschrikkelijk blies, dat wij twaalf dagen\nlang voor top en takel dreven, waar het lot en de wind ons heen voerde;\nen gedurende deze twaalf dagen behoef ik niet te zeggen, dat ik alle\ndagen verwachtte te vergaan, en niemand aan boord dacht er het leven af\nte brengen.\nBehalve dezen woedenden storm, hadden wij ook nog het ongeluk, een man\naan de heete koorts te verliezen, en een man en een jongen werden over\nboord geslagen. Toen het weder op den twaalfden dag wat bedaarde, maakte\nde kapitein zijn bestek op, zoo goed als hij kon, en bevond, dat hij op\nongeveer 11\u00b0 N. breedte was, maar dat hij op 22\u00b0 lengte bewesten kaap\nSt. Augustijn was; zoodat hij berekende op de kust van Guiana of het\nnoordergedeelte van Brazili\u00eb te zijn, tusschen de Amazonerivier en de\nOrenoko, gewoonlijk de Groote Rivier genaamd. Thans was de vraag welken\nkoers te houden, want het schip was lek en zeer ontzet; en de kapitein\nwas er voor regt naar de Brazilische kust terug te keeren.\nHier was ik stellig tegen; en toen wij bij het nazien der kaarten van de\nAmerikaansche kusten zagen, dat er geen ander bewoond eiland was, waar\nwij hulp konden verwachten, voor dat wij de Cara\u00efben bereikten, besloten\nwij naar Barbados koers te stellen, hetwelk wij gemakkelijk in vijftien\ndagen zeilens hoopten te kunnen doen, als wij hooger in zee opwerkten,\nom den Mexikaanschen Golfstroom te vermijden. Het was ons onmogelijk\nzonder hulp onze reis naar de kust van Afrika voort te zetten.\nTen dien einde veranderden wij van koers en stuurden N.W. ten W., ten\neinde een der Engelsche eilanden te bereiken. Maar onze reis was anders\nbepaald, want op 12\u00b0, 15' breedte gekomen, sloeg een tweede storm ons\neven geweldig westwaarts, en voerde ons buiten alle handelswegen van\nbeschaafde volkeren. Zoo dus al ons leven op zee gespaard werd, hadden\nwij meer kans van door wilden vermoord te worden, dan ooit ons vaderland\nweder te zien. In dezen nood, en terwijl de wind nog zeer hevig was,\nriep een van ons volk op een morgen: \"Land!\" en naauwelijks waren wij\nuit de kajuit gekomen, in de hoop van te kunnen zien in wat hoek van de\nwereld wij waren, of het schip stiet op eene zandbank, en in een\noogenblik sloeg de zee er zoo geweldig over heen, dat wij alle\noogenblikken dachten te vergaan, en wij naar omlaag moesten gaan, om ons\nvoor de golven te beschutten.\nIemand, die zoo iets nimmer bijgewoond heeft, kan moeijelijk de\nheerschende ontsteltenis begrijpen. Wij wisten niet waar wij waren, noch\nop welk land wij geworpen waren; of het een eiland of vast land, bewoond\nof onbewoond was. Daar de wind nog hevig was, schoon het niet meer zoo\ngeweldig stormde, konden wij niet hopen, dat het schip het langer dan\neenige minuten kon houden, zonder verbrijzeld te worden, ten ware de\nwind, door een wonder, onmiddellijk omliep. Kortom, wij zagen elkander\naan, en verwachtten elk oogenblik den dood; ons voorbereidende op den\novergang in eene andere wereld, want in deze hadden wij weinig meer te\nverrigten. Onze eenigste hoop was, dat het schip nog heel bleef, en de\nkapitein opmerkte, dat de wind begon te gaan liggen.\nMaar al bedaarde de wind ook, dan bleef onze toestand toch vreesselijk.\nOns schip zat zoo vast, dat wij niet hopen konden het weder vlot te\nkrijgen, en wij moesten slechts denken, het lijf er af te brengen. Wij\nhadden de boot aan den spiegel hangen toen de storm begon, maar zij was\neerst tegen het roer beschadigd en vervolgens door de zee\u00ebn verbrijzeld\nof weggeslagen; in een woord deze was voor ons verloren. Wij hadden nog\nwel eene boot op het dek, maar of wij die in zee konden brengen was\ntwijfelachtig. Er was echter geen tijd tot beraad, want alle\noogenblikken wachtten wij, dat het schip in stukken zou breken, en\nsommigen riepen, dat het al verbrijzeld was.\nIn dezen nood sloeg de stuurman het eerst handen aan het werk, en bragt\nmet hulp van het volk, de boot uit, en wij gingen allen er in, lieten de\nvanglijn los, en ons op Gods genade drijven, want de zee ging nog\ngeweldig hoog op het strand.\nWij zagen allen duidelijk in, dat de zee zoo hoog stond, dat de boot het\nniet houden kon en wij ontwijfelbaar moesten verdrinken. Zeil hadden wij\nniet, en hadden het toch ook niet kunnen gebruiken; dus roeiden wij naar\nhet land, schoon met bezwaarde harten, als mannen, die hun doodvonnis te\ngemoet gingen, want wij allen wisten zeer goed, dat als wij digt bij het\nstrand kwamen, de branding alsdan de boot in duizend stukken zou\nverbrijzelen. Wij bevalen Gode onze ziel, en terwijl de wind ons naar de\nkust dreef, verhaastten wij de beslissing van ons lot, door zoo hard wij\nkonden naar den wal te roeijen.\nHoe het strand was, klippen of zand, steil of effen wisten wij niet; de\neenigste zweem van hoop die wij nog konden koesteren, was, dat wij bij\ngeluk in eene baai of golf, of in den mond van eene of andere rivier\nkomen mogten, waar wij door bijzonder toeval onze boot inbragten, of dat\nwij aan lager wal van het land en daardoor in stil water geraakten. Er\nwas echter niets dat daarnaar geleek, maar toen wij digter bij het\nstrand kwamen, zag het land er nog veel verschrikkelijker uit dan de\nzee.\nNa, naar gissing, ongeveer anderhalve mijl roeijens of liever drijvens,\nkwam eene geweldige zee achter ons aan rollen, en gaf ons duidelijk te\nkennen, dat dit onze genadeslag was. Zij sloeg met zoo veel geweld over\nons heen, dat de boot dadelijk omsloeg, en ons zoo wel van de boot als\nvan elkander scheidde, zoo dat wij naauwelijks konden uitroepen: \"o,\nGod!\" want wij waren in een oogenblik allen door de zee verzwolgen.\nIk kan niet beschrijven welke verwarring van denkbeelden ik gevoelde,\ntoen ik in het water zonk; want schoon ik zeer goed zwem, kon ik mij\nniet zoo uit de golven opheffen, dat ik adem kon halen, totdat de golf\nmij een groot eind naar den wal gedragen of liever geworpen hebbende,\ndaar brak en terug liep, en mij op het land bijkans droog, maar half\ndood van het ingezwolgen water, achterliet. Ik had zoo veel\ntegenwoordigheid van geest, en kracht nog dat ik, ziende, dat ik digter\nbij het vaste land was dan ik verwachtte, op de been sprong en zoo snel\nik kon, naar het land trachtte te loopen, voor eene andere golf mij\ninhaalde en weder wegrukte. Spoedig vond ik echter, dat dit onmogelijk\nwas, want ik zag de zee achter mij aan komen opzetten, zoo hoog als een\nhooge heuvel, en verwoed als een vijand, waartegen ik niet opgewassen\nwas. Mij schoot niet anders over dan mijn adem in te houden, en als ik\nkon mij boven water te houden, en zoo, door te zwemmen, mij zoo mogelijk\nnaar de kust te laten brengen. Mijne grootste vrees was dat de zee, die\nmij op het strand sloeg, mij, als zij terug liep, weder in zee mogt\nslepen.\nDe eerste zee, die weder opkwam, ging omtrent twintig of dertig voet\nover mij heen, en ik gevoelde, dat ik met ontzettend geweld en\nsnelheid naar het strand werd gedreven. Ik hield den adem in, en\ntrachtte zoo veel ik kon vooruit te komen. Ik kon eindelijk niet langer\nden adem inhouden, toen ik gevoelde dat ik oprees, en mijn hoofd en\nhanden boven het water uitkwamen. Dit duurde geen twee sekonden, maar\ngaf mij den tijd adem te halen. Wederom werd ik door het water\noverstelpt, maar niet zoo lang of ik kon het uithouden, en bemerkende,\ndat het water terugliep, zwom ik daar tegen in, en gevoelde weder grond.\nNog een oogenblik stond ik stil om adem te halen, en tot ik van het\nwater vrij was; toen zette ik het op een loopen, zoo snel ik kon naar\nhet land. Maar ik kon de woede van eene volgende zee niet ontgaan, die\nweder achter mij aankwam, en nog twee malen werd ik door de golven\nopgeligt en als de vorige reizen voortgestuwd, want het strand was zeer\nvlak.\nDe laatste maal dat dit gebeurde was het bijkans noodlottig met mij\nafgeloopen; want nadat de zee mij, gelijk te voren, naar land had\ngesleept, wierp zij mij tegen eene klip, en dat met zoo veel geweld, dat\nik bewusteloos nederzeeg. De stoot, dien ik op mijne zijde en borst\nontving, benam mij den adem, en zoo de zee onmiddellijk terug gekomen\nware, zou ik verstikt zijn in het water; maar voor dat dit gebeurde, was\nik een weinig tot mij zelven gekomen, en ziende, dat de zee weder over\nmij heen zou slaan, besloot ik mij aan een stuk van de rots vast te\nhouden, zoo mogelijk, tot de golf terug liep. Daar nu de golven zoo hoog\nniet meer liepen, omdat ik digt bij het land was, hield ik het staande\ntot de golf terug liep, en nam toen weder een loopje, dat mij zoo digt\nbij het strand bragt, dat de volgende golf, schoon die over mij heen\nsloeg, mij niet medesleepte, en toen bereikte ik, met nog een loopje,\nden vasten wal, waar ik, zeer tot mijne vreugde, de klippen van het\nstrand overklom en op het gras ging zitten, gered uit het gevaar, en\nbuiten bereik der golven.\nIk was nu aan land en begon rond te zien en God voor mijn behoud te\ndanken, in een geval waarin, eenige oogenblikken te voren, schier geene\nhoop op redding was. Ik geloof, dat het onmogelijk is de verrukking te\nschilderen, die men gevoelt als men zoo, als het ware uit het graf zelf\ngered wordt, en het verwondert mij thans niet meer, dat men gewoon is,\nals een ter dood veroordeelde genade ontvangt, tevens een heelmeester te\nzenden, om hem ader te laten zoodra hij het verneemt, ten einde de\nverrassing hem niet zou dooden.\nIk liep het strand langs, met opgeheven handen, en geheel verloren in\nhet denkbeeld van mijne redding, terwijl ik duizend gebaren en\nbewegingen maakte, als ik bedacht, dat al mijne makkers verdronken\nwaren, en niemand gered was dan ik alleen; want ik zag van hen niets\nweder dan naderhand twee of drie hoeden, eene muts en twee schoenen, die\nniet bij elkander behoorden.\nToen ik naar het gestrande schip zag, hetwelk zoo ver lag, dat ik het\ndoor het schuim en spatten der zee naauwelijks zien kon, stond ik op\nnieuw verbaasd hoe het mogelijk was, dat ik gered had kunnen worden!\nNa door deze overwegingen mij met het troostrijke gedeelte van mijn\ntoestand bekend gemaakt te hebben, begon ik rond te zien, op welke soort\nvan plaats ik was, en wat mij thans te doen stond. Spoedig ontdekte ik,\ndat ik eene vreesselijke bevrijding had gedaan, want ik was nat, had\ngeene andere drooge kleederen, noch iets te eten of te drinken. Ik zag\nook geen ander vooruitzigt dan om van honger te sterven, of door wilde\nbeesten verscheurd te worden. Wat mij tevens niet weinig ne\u00earslagtig\nmaakte, was, dat ik geen wapen had om eenig beest tot mijn voedsel, te\ndooden, of om mij te verdedigen tegen hen, die mij welligt tot voedsel\nzouden begeeren. Ik had niets bij mij dan een mes, eene pijp en eenigen\ntabak in eene doos; dit was al mijn voorraad, hetgeen mij zoo beangst\nmaakte, dat ik eene poos als buiten mijne zinnen was. Toen de avond\nviel, begon ik met een bezwaard hart te bedenken wat mijn lot zou zijn,\nals er in dit land verscheurende dieren waren; omdat deze altijd des\nnachts op roof uitgaan.\nHet eenigste middel wat mij te binnen schoot, was op een digtbegroeiden\nboom te gaan zitten, eene soort van den, maar doornachtig, die digt bij\nmij stond en waarop ik besloot den geheelen nacht te blijven zitten, en\nden volgenden dag te overdenken welken dood ik zou sterven, want ik zag\ngeene andere uitkomst voor mij. Ik liep een eind weegs van het strand\naf, om drinkbaar water te zoeken, dat ik gelukkig vond. Na gedronken, en\nvoor den honger wat tabak in den mond genomen te hebben, klom ik in den\nboom, en na een korten stok tot mijne verdediging, daar af te hebben\ngesneden, viel ik, daar ik zeer vermoeid was, in slaap. Ik sliep zoo\ngerust, als weinigen in mijn toestand zouden gedaan hebben, en ik\ngeloof, dat nimmer een slaap mij zoo verkwikt heeft.\nToen ik ontwaakte was het helder dag, fraai weder en de storm bedaard,\nzoodat de zee kalm was. Tot mijne verbazing zag ik, dat het schip des\nnachts, van de zandbank, waarop het lag, door den vloed vlot geraakt, en\ntot bij de klip gedreven was, waar ik, gelijk ik zeide, zoo tegen aan\nwas geworpen. Daar het dus nu slechts eene (Eng.) mijl van den wal\naflag, wenschte ik, dat ik aan boord was, om ten minste eenige\nnoodwendigheden voor mij te redden.\nToen ik mijne slaapplaats in den boom verliet, zag ik nogmaals in het\nrond, en het eerst wat ik bespeurde was de sloep, die ongeveer een half\nuur regts van mij, op het strand lag, waar de wind en de golven haar\ngeworpen hadden. Ik ging in die rigting de kust langs, om bij haar te\nkomen, maar trof een inham of kreek aan, die mij dit belette. Ik keerde\ndus terug, daar ik voor het oogenblik voornamelijk verlangde het schip\nte bereiken, waar ik eenig voedsel voor mij hoopte te vinden.\nKort na den middag werd de zee zeer kalm, en het getij liep zoo laag,\ndat ik het schip tot op een vierde mijl kon bereiken. Hier vond ik\nnieuwe reden tot droefheid; want ik zag duidelijk, dat, zoo wij allen\naan boord gebleven waren, wij gered zouden geweest zijn; althans hadden\nwij allen behouden aan den wal kunnen komen; en mij had het ongeluk niet\ngetroffen van allen troost en alle gezelschap beroofd te zijn, gelijk\nthans het geval was. Deze gedachte perste mij de tranen uit de oogen,\nmaar deze baatten mij weinig, en ik besloot zoo mogelijk het schip te\nbereiken. Ik ontkleedde mij, want het was smoor heet, en ging te water;\nmaar toen ik het schip bereikte, wist ik niet hoe ik aan boord zou\nkomen. Het lag hoog en droog, en ik zag niets dat ik grijpen kon. Twee\nmaal zwom ik er omheen, en de derde maal ontdekte ik een dun touw, dat\nover de fokkerusten hing, zoo laag, dat ik het met moeite kon bereiken,\nen met behulp er van op het voorschip komen. Hier zag ik, dat het schip\ngebarsten was en vrij wat water in het ruim had; maar het lag zoo op\neene bank van hard zand of liever aarde, dat het van achteren hoog op de\nbank, en met den kop bijkans in het water lag; hierdoor was het geheele\nachterschip heel, en al wat daar was, droog gebleven. Mijne eerste zorg\nwas te onderzoeken wat beschadigd en wat goed gebleven was, gelijk men\nwel gelooven zal. Ik vond, dat al de provisie droog en goed gebleven\nwas, en daar ik uitgehongerd was, vulde ik mijne zakken met beschuit, en\nat die op, terwijl ik naar andere dingen rondzag, want ik had geen tijd\nte verliezen. Ik vond ook wat rum in de groote kajuit, en nam eene\ngoede teug, die ik wel noodig had, om mij kracht te geven tot al wat ik\nnog te doen had.\nNu had ik slechts eene boot noodig, om mij van vele dingen te voorzien,\ndie ik voorzag, dat mij van veel nut zouden zijn. Stil te zitten en te\nwenschen naar wat ik niet had, baatte mij echter weinig, en de nood\nscherpte mijn vernuft. Wij hadden verscheidene waarlooze rondhouten,\ntwee of drie marsstengen, en een paar waarlooze marszera's aan boord. Ik\nbesloot deze te gebruiken, en werkte er zooveel over boord als hare\nzwaarte dit toeliet, na aan ieder een touw gebonden te hebben, voor het\nwegdrijven. Nadat dit gedaan was, ging ik over boord, trok ze naar mij\ntoe, en bond er zoo goed ik kon vier van aan beide einden vast, in den\nvorm van een vlot, en na er twee of drie korte planken kruiselings over\ngelegd te hebben, vond ik, dat ik er vrij wel over loopen kon, maar dat\nhet niet veel zwaarte dragen kon, omdat de stukken hout te ligt waren,\ndus ging ik aan het werk, en zaagde met des timmermans zaag, een\nwaarlooze steng in drie\u00ebn, en maakte deze stukken aan mijn vlot vast,\nmet veel arbeid en moeite, maar de hoop, mij van vele noodwendigheden te\nvoorzien, deed mij boven mijn vermogen werken.\nThans was mijn vlot sterk genoeg, om eene tamelijke zwaarte te dragen.\nHet voornaamste was thans te weten wat ik er op laden zou, en hoe ik,\nhetgeen er op lag, voor de branding zou bewaren, doch hierover bedacht\nik mij niet lang. Ik legde er eerst al de planken op, die ik bekomen\nkon, en na wel overwogen te hebben, wat ik het meest noodig had, maakte\nik drie matrozenkisten ledig, en streek die op het vlot. De eerste vulde\nik met eetwaren, te weten brood, rijst, drie Hollandsche kazen, vijf\nstukken gedroogd geitenvleesch, dat wij veel aten, en een klein weinig\nEuropeesch koorn, dat wij voor eenig gevogelte aan boord hadden genomen,\nhetgeen echter reeds geslagt was. Er was eenige garst en tarwe onder\nelkander aan boord geweest, maar tot mijne spijt vond ik, dat de ratten\nhet alles opgegeten of oneetbaar gemaakt hadden. Ik vond verscheidene\nflesschenkelders van den kapitein met sterken drank, en in het geheel\nongeveer vijf of zes gallons arak; deze plaatste ik los op het vlot,\ndaar ik ze niet in de kist kon bergen. Toen ik hiermede bezig was,\nbegon de vloed door te komen, en ik had het verdriet van mijn buis, hemd\nen vest, die ik aan het strand gelegd had, te zien wegdrijven. Mijn\nlinnen broek en kousen had ik aangehouden, toen ik naar het schip zwom.\nDit deed mij echter naar kleederen zoeken, die ik genoeg vond; maar\nwaarvan ik geen meer medenam, dan ik oogenblikkelijk noodig had, want ik\nhad andere dingen op het oog; en in de eerste plaats, gereedschap om\nmede te werken. Na lang zoeken vond ik de timmermanskist, dat inderdaad\neen belangrijke vond voor mij was, en toen van meer waarde voor mij dan\neene scheepslading goud. Ik bragt die geheel op mijn vlot, zonder mij\nden tijd te gunnen van na te zien wat er in was, want dit wist ik over\nhet geheel wel.\nThans was mijne zorg voor wapens en kruid en lood. Er waren in de kajuit\ntwee zeer goede jagtgeweren en twee pistolen; deze nam ik eerst met\neenige kruidhorens, en een zakje met kogels. Ik wist, dat er drie\nvaatjes kruid aan boord waren, maar niet waar de konstapel ze gestuwd\nhad. Na veel zoekens vond ik ze echter; twee waren droog en goed\ngebleven, het derde was vochtig; deze twee bragt ik met de wapens op het\nvlot. En nu begreep ik vrij goed geladen te zijn, en begon er aan te\ndenken, hoe ik mijne lading aan wal zou brengen, daar ik zeilen, riemen,\nnoch roer had, en het minste aanwakkeren van den wind al mijne\nzeemanschap zou teleurgesteld hebben.\nDrie dingen moedigden mij aan; eerstens was de zee volkomen kalm; ten\ntweede dreef het getij naar het strand en eindelijk was de weinige wind\ndie er was, regt op de kust aan. Na dus twee of drie gebroken riemen van\nde boot, en behalve mijne kist met gereedschappen, nog twee zagen, eene\nbijl en een hamer gevonden te hebben, stak ik met mijne lading af. Eene\nmijl ongeveer ging alles goed; alleen bespeurde ik, dat ik een weinig\nzijwaarts afdreef van de plaats, waar ik eerst aan land gekomen was,\nzoodat ik bemerkte, dat daar eenige strooming in het water was, wat mij\nhoop gaf, daar eene kreek of rivier te zullen vinden, die mij als eene\nhaven kon dienen, om mijne lading aan wal te brengen.\nHet was zoo als ik gedacht had; voor mij lag een kleine inham, waar eene\nsterke strooming inliep; dus stuurde ik mijn vlot zoo goed ik kon, om\nhet midden van den stroom te houden. Hier had ik bijkans ten tweeden\nmale schipbreuk geleden, hetgeen mij het hart zou gebroken hebben. Daar\nik niets van de kust wist, geraakte mijn vlot aan het eene einde op eene\nzandbank vast, en daar het andere einde vlot was, scheelde het weinig,\nof al mijne lading was naar dien kant gerold, die vlot was, en zoo in\nhet water gevallen. Ik deed mijn uiterste best, door met mijn rug de\nkisten tegen te houden, alles op zijne plaats te doen blijven; maar al\nmijne kracht was niet voldoende om het vlot af te duwen; ook durfde ik\nniet van houding veranderen, maar stond bijkans een halfuur op die wijze\ntegen te houden. Gedurende dien tijd maakte de vloed het vlot allengs\nmeer gelijk, en kort daarop, daar het water nog rees, was ik weder vlot,\nen duwde mijn vlot af met den riem, dien ik had, in het kanaal. Toen ik\ndaar hooger op kwam, bevond ik mij eindelijk in den mond van eene\nkleine rivier, met land aan weerszijden, en waar het getij zeer sterk\nliep.\nEindelijk bespeurde ik een kleinen inham aan de regterzijde, en bragt\nmet veel moeite en arbeid mijn vlot daarheen, en kwam er op het laatst\nzoo nabij, dat ik met mijn riem den grond bereiken kon, en toen stuurde\nik erbinnen. Hier was bijkans weder al mijne lading in zee gevallen,\nwant het strand liep hier met zulk eene steile helling, dat ik nergens\nkon naderen, of het eene einde van het vlot zou als het aan den wal\nstiet, zoo hoog en het andere einde zoo laag liggen, dat de lading op\nnieuw groot gevaar moest loopen. Al wat ik doen kon, was te wachten, tot\ndat het getij op zijn hoogst was, terwijl ik met mijn riem mij nabij den\nwal hield, en digt bij eene streek vlakken grond, die ik verwachtte, dat\nhet water bedekken zou, gelijk ook het geval was. Zoodra ik water genoeg\nvond (want mijn vlot had bijkans een voet diepgang,) bragt ik het boven\ndien vlakken grond, en zette het daar vast door mijne twee gebroken\nriemen in den grond te steken, aan weerszijden een, en zoo bleef ik\nliggen, tot het water begon af te loopen, en mij en mijne lading droog\nop het strand liet.\nMijn eerste werk was thans het land te bezien, en eene geschikte plaats\nte zoeken, waar ik wonen kon, en mijne goederen tegen alle mogelijke\nongevallen beveiligen. Waar ik was, wist ik echter niet, of op vast land\nof op een eiland, in een bewoond of onbewoond land, met of zonder wilde\ndieren. Geene mijl van mij af was een heuvel, die zeer steil en hoog\nopliep, en mij toescheen eene reeks van heuvelen, die noordwaarts zich\nuitstrekten, te overzien. Ik nam een der jagtgeweren, eene pistool en\neen kruidhoorn, en aldus gewapend ging ik naar den top des heuvels op\nontdekking uit. Toen ik dien met veel moeite en arbeid bereikt had, zag\nik dadelijk mijn lot; namelijk, dat ik op een eiland was, overal door de\nzee omringd, zonder land in het gezigt, behalve zeer in de verte eenige\nklippen, en twee eilanden, kleiner dan dit, die drie mijlen ongeveer\nwestwaarts van mij lagen.\nIk zag tevens, dat het eiland, waarop ik mij bevond, woest, en gelijk ik\nmet grond vermoedde, onbewoond was, ten ware van wilde dieren, waarvan\nik echter geenerlei spoor zag. Ik zag eene menigte van vogels, wier\nsoort ik niet kende, en waarvan ik niet wist of hun vleesch eetbaar was\nof niet. Toen ik terugkeerde, schoot ik een grooten vogel, dien ik op\neen boom aan den zoom van een groot bosch zag zitten. Ik geloof, dat het\nhet eerste schot was, dat daar, sedert de schepping, gevallen was.\nNaauwelijks had ik gevuurd, of uit alle deelen van het bosch rees eene\nontzettende menigte vogels van allerlei soort op, die ieder hun\neigenaardig geschreeuw en gekrijsch aanhieven; doch geen was er onder,\ndie ik kende. Dien ik gedood had, hield ik voor eene soort van havik,\nnaar zijne vederen en bek te oordeelen, echter waren zijne klaauwen niet\nbuitengewoon; zijn vleesch was taai en oneetbaar.\nIk hield mij vooreerst met deze ontdekking tevreden, ging naar mijn vlot\nterug, en ging aan het werk, om mijne lading aan land te brengen, dat\nmij het overige van den dag bezig hield. Waar ik mijn nachtverblijf\nkiezen zou, wist ik niet; ik was bevreesd, om op den grond te gaan\nliggen, niet wetende, of een wild dier mij verscheuren zou. Naderhand\nvond ik echter, dat ik hiervoor geene vrees behoefde te hebben.\nZoo goed ik kon maakte ik echter eene verschansing van de kisten en\nplanken, die ik aan wal had gebragt, en vormde daarvan eene soort van\nhut, voor dien nacht. Ik zag nog niet in, hoe ik mij van voedsel zou\nvoorzien, behalve, dat ik twee of drie dieren, naar hazen gelijkende,\nuit het bosch had zien loopen, toen ik den vogel schoot.\nIk begon nu te bedenken, dat ik nog veel uit het schip zou kunnen halen,\nwat mij nuttig kon zijn; vooral eenig touwwerk en zeilen, en wat mij\nmaar van dienst zou kunnen zijn. Ik besloot dus, zoo mogelijk nog eene\nreis naar het schip te doen, en daar ik wist, dat de eerste opkomende\nstorm het noodwendig verbrijzelen moest, besloot ik mij nergens mede\nbezig te houden, voor ik al wat ik kon uit het schip had gehaald. Ik\nbelegde toen scheepsraad, dat wil zeggen in mijne gedachten, of ik zou\ntrachten met het vlot terug te gaan, maar dit achtte ik onuitvoerlijk;\ndus besloot ik, even als te voren, bij laag water te gaan, gelijk ik\ndeed, alleen een gestreept hemd en een linnen broek aanhoudende.\nIk kwam gelijk te voren aan boord, en maakte een vlot, doch door de\nondervinding van het eerste geleerd, maakte ik dit niet zoo\nonhandelbaar, en belaadde het zoo zwaar niet. Thans bragt ik\nverscheidene allernuttigste dingen voor mij mede; eerstelijk vond ik\ntwee of drie zakken spijkers, een groote boor, een vijfentwintig bijlen,\nen bovenal, een zoo allernuttigst werktuig, een slijpsteen. Dit alles\nborg ik, met verscheidene dingen van den konstapel, twee of drie\nkoevoeten, twee vaatjes met geweerkogels, zeven geweren en een jagtroer,\nmet nog eenig buskruid, een grooten zak met hagel en een groote rol\nlood; maar deze laatste was te zwaar, en kon ik niet over boord\nhijschen.\nBehalve dit nam ik al de kleederen mede, die ik vinden kon, en een\nwaarloos voormarszeil, eene hangmat en eenig beddegoed, en hiermede\nbelaadde ik mijn tweede vlot, en bragt alles, tot mijn groot genoegen,\nbehouden aan land.\nIk was gedurende mijne afwezigheid van het land eenigzins bevreesd, dat\nalthans mijne mondbehoeften zouden weggeroofd zijn, maar toen ik\nterugkwam, vond ik geen spoor van eenig bezoek, behalve eene soort van\nwilde kat, die op eene der kisten zat, en bij mijne aankomst een eind\nweegs wegliep, en toen stilstond. Zij zat zeer bedaard en gerust, en zag\nmij stijf aan, alsof zij wel lust had, nader kennis met mij te maken. Ik\nlegde een geweer op haar aan, maar daar zij hiervan niets begreep, bleef\nzij zeer bedaard zitten; daarop wierp ik haar een stuk beschuit toe,\nwaarmede ik echter niet zeer mild was, want mijn voorraad was niet\ngroot. Echter gaf ik haar een stukje, gelijk ik zeide, en zij ging er\nnaar toe, berook het, en at het op, en scheen naar meer te verlangen;\nmaar ik bedankte er voor en kon niet meer missen, dus ging zij heen.\nNa mijne tweede lading aan land gebragt te hebben, schoon ik verpligt\nwas de kruidvaatjes open te slaan, en bij gedeelten te ledigen, want zij\nwaren in hun geheel te zwaar, ging ik aan het werk, om van de zeilen, en\neenige staken, die ik daarvoor gekapt had, eene kleine tent te maken, en\nin deze tent bragt ik alles wat ik wist, dat door regen of zon bederven\nkon, en al de ledige kisten en vaten stapelde ik in een kring rondom de\ntent, om die te versterken tegen eenigen onverhoedschen aanval van\nmenschen of beesten.\nToen ik dit gedaan had, sloot ik den ingang der tent met eenige planken\nvan binnen, en eene overeind staande ledige kist van buiten, legde een\nbed op den grond, mijne twee pistolen aan het hoofdeinde, en mijn geweer\naan mijne zijde. Hierop ging ik voor de eerste maal naar bed en sliep\nzeer gerust den geheelen nacht, daar ik zeer vermoeid en uitgeput was,\nwant ik had den vorigen nacht zeer weinig geslapen, en den geheelen dag\nhard gewerkt, om al die zaken van het schip te halen, en aan land te\nbrengen.\nIk had nu het grootste magazijn van allerlei voorraad, dat ooit geloof\nik, voor \u00e9\u00e9n mensch was neergelegd; maar ik was nog niet voldaan, want\nzoo lang het schip in dier voege bleef zitten, achtte ik het raadzaam er\nalles uit te halen wat ik kon; dus ging ik elken dag met laag water naar\nboord, en bragt telkens het een of ander mede. Vooral de derde maal toen\nik ging, nam ik zooveel touwwerk mede als ik kon, en zooveel dun touw en\ngaren als ik vinden kon, benevens een waarloos stuk zeildoek, dat\nmedegenomen was, om de zeilen te herstellen, en het vat vochtig\nbuskruid. Kortom ik bragt al de zeilen er af, hoewel ik genoodzaakt was\nze in stukken te snijden, en zooveel te gelijk mede te nemen als ik kon;\nwant ik kon ze niet als zeilen, maar alleen het doek gebruiken.\nNiet minder aangenaam was het mij, dat ik het laatst van alles, nadat ik\nvijf of zes reizen gedaan had, en dacht niets meer van het schip te\nkunnen bekomen, wat der moeite waardig was, nog vond een groot vat met\nbeschuit, drie vaatjes rum of sterken drank, een kistje met suiker en\neen vat met best meel. Dit was eene aangename verrassing voor mij, omdat\nik niet verwachtte andere mondbehoeften aan te treffen, dan die door het\nwater bedorven waren. Ik maakte spoedig de ton met beschuit ledig, en\nwikkelde die in stukken van de zeilen, en, om kort te gaan, ik bragt dit\nalles, hoewel op verschillende tijden, behouden aan land.\nDen volgenden dag deed ik weder eene reis, en nu ik al wat draagbaar was\nuit het schip geplunderd had, begon ik met de kabels, die ik aan stukken\nkapte, die ik verwerken kon, en bragt twee kabels en een tros aan wal,\nmet al het ijzerwerk, dat ik bekomen kon, en na de sprietzeilra en de\nbezaansra gekapt te hebben, en al wat ik kon, om een groot vlot te\nmaken, belaadde ik het met al deze zware goederen en zette af. Maar\nmijn goed geluk begon mij te verlaten, want dit vlot was zoo\nonhandelbaar en zoo overladen, dat, nadat ik den kleinen inham\nbinnengevaren was, waar ik de overige goederen aan land had gebragt,\ndaar ik dit niet zoo goed besturen kon als de andere, het omsloeg, en ik\nmet al de lading in het water viel. Voor mij was dit van weinig belang,\nwant ik was digt bij land; maar van mijne lading ging het grootste\ngedeelte verloren, vooral het ijzer, dat ik gehoopt had mij van veel nut\nte zullen zijn. Toen het echter laag water was, bragt ik nog\nverscheidene stukken touw aan wal, en eenig ijzerwerk, schoon met\nontzettend veel moeite, want ik moest er naar duiken, hetgeen voor mij\neen allerafmattendst werk was. Ik ging daarop ieder dag naar boord, en\nbragt mede wat ik kon.\nIk was nu dertien dagen aan wal geweest, en elf malen naar boord van het\nschip gegaan, in welken tijd ik alles aan wal gebragt had, wat een\nmensch met twee handen redelijkerwijs kon doen; hoewel ik waarlijk\ngeloof, dat, als het stil weder gebleven was, ik het geheele schip, stuk\nvoor stuk, zou gesloopt hebben. Toen ik de twaalfde maal aan boord wilde\ngaan, bemerkte ik, dat de wind begon op te steken; ik ging echter met\nlaag water aan boord, en schoon ik gedacht had, dat ik de kajuit zoo\ngoed doorgesnuffeld had, dat ik er niets meer in vinden kon, ontdekte ik\ntoch een kistje met laden. In eene daarvan vond ik twee of drie\nscheermessen en eene groote schaar, met een dozijn goede lepels en\nvorken; in eene andere vond ik de waarde van ongeveer 36 [\u00a3] in geld;\neenige Europesche en eenige Brazilische munten, eenige stukken van\nachten, eenig goud, eenig zilver.\nIk glimlachte toen ik dat geld zag: \"O slijk,\" zeide ik, \"waar zijt gij\ngoed voor? Gij zijt mij niet waardig, dat ik u van den grond opneem. Een\nvan deze messen is meer waard dan die geheele hoop. Ik kan u niet\ngebruiken, blijf waar gij zijt, en verzink naar den bodem, als iets, dat\nniet waardig is gered te worden.\" Bij nadere overweging nam ik het\nechter mede, en wikkelde alles in een stuk zeildoek, en begon te denken\nom nog een vlot te maken. Toen ik echter hiermede bezig was, betrok de\nlucht en de wind begon op te steken, en in een kwartier blies het eene\nstijve koelte van het land. Thans begreep ik, dat het vruchteloos was\neen vlot te maken, met den wind van het land af, en dat het zaak was te\nvertrekken, voordat de vloed doorkwam; anders had ik het strand in het\ngeheel niet kunnen bereiken; dus liet ik mij in het water afzakken en\nzwom het kanaal over, dat tusschen het schip en het strand lag, en dit\nging moeijelijk genoeg, gedeeltelijk om de zwaarte van hetgeen ik bij\nmij had, en gedeeltelijk om de deining in het water, want de wind\nwakkerde gestadig aan, en voordat het hoog water was, woei er een felle\nstorm.\nMaar ik had mijne kleine tent bereikt, waar ik met al mijn goed zeer\nveilig lag. Het stormde den geheelen nacht door, en toen ik den\nvolgenden morgen uitzag, was er geen schip meer te zien! Ik stond\neenigzins verrast, maar troostte mij met de gedachte, dat ik geen tijd\nnoch vlijt verloren had, om alles er uit te halen wat mij van nut kon\nzijn; en dat er inderdaad weinig in overgebleven was, wat ik nog aan wal\nhad kunnen brengen, als ik er den tijd toe gehad had. Ik liet nu alle\ngedachten varen aan het schip en wat er in was, behalve aan hetgeen nog\nvan het wrak op de kust mogt aanspoelen, gelijk inderdaad met\nverscheidene stukken het geval was, die echter voor mij van weinig nut\nwaren.\nThans waren mijne gedachten geheel gevestigd op mij tegen de wilden, als\ndie zich mogten vertoonen, of tegen wilde dieren, als die op het eiland\nmogten zijn, te beschermen, en ik overwoog lang, hoe ik dit doen, en\nwelke soort van woning ik maken zou; of ik een hol in den grond of eene\ntent op denzelven zou opslaan. Eindelijk besloot ik tot beide, en het\nzal niet ongepast zijn hier eene beschrijving van dezelve te geven.\nSpoedig bemerkte ik, dat de plaats waar ik was, niet tot mijne vestiging\ngeschikt was, vooral omdat het een lage, moerassige grond, digt bij de\nzee was, die ik geloofde dat niet gezond zou zijn, en vooral, omdat er\ngeen zoet water in de nabijheid was; dus besloot ik eene gezonder en\nmeer geschikte plek op te zoeken.\nIk nam verscheidene zaken in aanmerking: eerstelijk, gezondheid en zoet\nwater, gelijk ik zeide; vervolgens beschutting voor de zon, benevens\nveiligheid voor vijanden, hetzij menschen of dieren, en eindelijk het\ngezigt op de zee; opdat, als het God behaagde, eenig schip in het gezigt\nte zenden, ik geene gelegenheid mogt verzuimen tot mijne bevrijding,\nwaarop ik nog niet alle hoop opgegeven had.\nTerwijl ik eene geschikte plaats hiertoe zocht, vond ik eene kleine\nvlakte aan de zijde van een heuvel, die aldaar regtstandig als een muur\nomhoog rees, zoodat ik van de hoogte niet kon overvallen worden. Aan den\nkant van deze rots was eene holte, die naar den ingang van eene spelonk\ngeleek, schoon er geenerlei opening of spelonk in de rots was.\nOp de grazige vlakte, regt voor deze uitholling, besloot ik mijne tent\nop te slaan. De vlakte was niet meer dan honderd ellen lang en tweemaal\nzoo breed, en lag als eene weide voor mijne deur, en liep aan het einde\nonregelmatig af naar het lager land aan het strand. Zij lag op de N.N.W.\nzijde van den heuvel, hetgeen mij voor de zonnehitte den geheelen dag\nbeschermde, tot de zon in het W.t.Z. stond, hetgeen in deze hemelstreken\nbij het ondergaan plaats heeft.\nAlvorens ik mijne tent opsloeg, trok ik voor de uitholling een halven\ncirkel, die van de rots tot aan het einde, tien ellen wijd, en van het\neene einde tot het andere twintig ellen in doorsnede had. In dezen\nhalven cirkel sloeg ik twee rijen zware staken, en sloeg die in den\ngrond tot zij zoo vast stonden als pilaren, terwijl het zwaarste einde,\ndat ik van boven puntig maakte, ongeveer vijf en een half voet uit den\ngrond zat; de twee rijen stonden geen zes duim van elkander.\nVervolgens nam ik de stukken kabeltouw, die ik op het schip gekapt had,\nen legde die op elkander in den kring tusschen deze twee rijen van\nstaken, tot boven aan toe, terwijl ik andere staken van binnen plaatste,\nongeveer twee en een half voet hoog, om de voorsten te versterken, en\ndeze palissaden waren zoo sterk, dat mensch noch beest er over noch door\nkon. Dit kostte mij veel tijd en arbeid, vooral het kappen van de staken\nin het bosch, hen huiswaarts te slepen en in den grond te slaan.\nDe ingang tot deze plaats was geene deur, maar eene korte ladder,\nwaarmede ik over de omheining klom en die ik, als ik er in was, naar\nbinnen haalde. Aldus was ik, naar ik dacht, volkomen ingesloten en\nverschanst voor iedereen, en sliep dus des nachts gerust, hetgeen ik\nanders niet had kunnen doen; schoon, gelijk naderhand bleek, al deze\nvoorzorgen voor de vijanden die ik vreesde, noodeloos waren.\nIn deze omheining of verschansing, bragt ik met eindeloos veel moeite al\nmijn rijkdom, al mijne mondbehoeften, mijn kruid en lood en al mijne\ngoederen, die ik vroeger opgenoemd heb. Ik maakte ook eene groote tent,\nen om mij voor de regens, die hier een gedeelte van het jaar zeer hevig\nzijn, te beveiligen, maakte ik eene dubbele, namelijk eene kleinere tent\nvan binnen en eene grootere er over heen, en de bovenste bedekte ik met\neene presenning, die ik onder de zeilen gered had.\nEn nu lag ik niet meer in het bed, dat ik aan wal had gebragt, maar in\neene hangmat, die zeer goed was, en aan den stuurman behoord had.\nIn deze tent bragt ik al mijne mondbehoeften, en al wat door den regen\nbederven kon, en maakte vervolgens den ingang toe, dien ik tot hiertoe\nopengelaten had, en ging na dien tijd altijd met eene korte ladder,\ngelijk ik zeide, in en uit.\nToen dit gedaan was, ging ik aan het uitdelven van de rots, en bragt al\nde aarde en steenen, die ik uitgroef, door mijne tent, en legde die\ntusschen deze en de palissaden. Ik verhoogde den grond aldus anderhalf\nvoet, en maakte hierdoor een kelder vlak achter mijne tent. Dit kostte\nmij veel tijd en arbeid, voor dat alles gereed was, en ik moet dus\nterugkeeren tot eenige andere zaken, die mijne gedachten bezig hielden.\nToen ik het ontwerp gevormd had, een tent op te slaan en den kelder te\nmaken, viel er een allerhevigste stortregen uit eene dikke, zwarte wolk,\nen een bliksemstraal werd door een allerontzettendsten donderslag\ngevolgd, gelijk natuurlijk is. Ik was niet zoo zeer ontsteld van den\nbliksem, als van het denkbeeld, dat even snel als de bliksem mij voor\nden geest kwam: \"mijn buskruid!\" Mijn hart kromp ineen, als ik bedacht,\ndat een bliksemstraal al mijn kruid kon vernielen, waarvan naar ik\ndacht, niet alleen mijne veiligheid, maar ook mijn onderhoud geheel\nafhing. Ik was volstrekt niet bekommerd over mijn eigen gevaar, schoon,\nals het kruid vlam gevat had, ik zeer ligt doodelijk getroffen had\nkunnen worden.\nDit maakte zulk een indruk op mij, dat, nadat de storm over was, ik al\nmijn werk, mijn bouwen en verschansen liggen liet, en aan het maken van\ndozen en kisten ging, om mijn kruid bij kleine gedeelten te bergen, in\nde hoop, dat, wat er ook gebeuren mogt, het niet alles te gelijk vlam\nzou vatten, en ik het zoo afgescheiden kon houden, dat het eene het\nandere niet kon aansteken. Ik bragt hiermede veertien dagen door; en\nmijn kruid, dat ongeveer 140 [lb = gewicht] zal bedragen hebben, had ik\ntoen in wel honderd partijen verdeeld. Van het vaatje, dat nat geweest\nwas, vreesde ik geenerlei gevaar, dus plaatste ik het in mijn nieuwen\nkelder, dien ik goedvond mijn keuken te noemen, en het overige verborg\nik hier en daar in holten tusschen de klippen, in dier voege, dat er\ngeen nat bij komen kon, terwijl ik zorgvuldig de plaatsen merkte, waar\nik het legde.\nMiddelerwijl ik hieraan bezig was, ging ik dagelijks ten minste eens met\nmijn geweer uit, zoowel tot mijne uitspanning, als om te zien of ik iets\nschieten kon, dat eetbaar was, en, zooveel ik kon, mij bekend te maken\nmet wat het eiland opleverde. De eerste maal dat ik thans uitging,\nontdekte ik, dat er geiten op het eiland waren, hetgeen mij veel\ngenoegen deed; er was echter een ongeluk bij, dat zij namelijk zoo\nschuw, zoo scherp van gezigt en reuk, en zoo snel ter been waren, dat\nhet allermoeijelijkst was, haar te bereiken.\nIk werd hierdoor echter geenszins ontmoedigd, niet twijfelende of ik zou\ner weldra een onder schot krijgen, gelijk ook spoedig het geval was.\nWant, nadat ik eenigzins hare gewone verblijfplaatsen op het spoor was\ngekomen, ging ik op haar loeren. Ik had bemerkt, dat, als zij mij in het\ndal zagen, al waren zij op de klippen, zij dan altijd verschrikt\nwegliepen, en dat, als ik op de klippen was, zij geen acht op mij\nsloegen. Ik besloot hieruit, dat haar oog zoodanig gevormd was, dat zij\nmet gemakkelijk voorwerpen zagen, die boven haar verheven waren. Ik\nbegon derhalve altijd eerst op de rotsen te klimmen, om boven haar\ngezigt te zijn, en had dan gewoonlijk een goed schot op haar.\nDe eerste maal, dat ik op haar schoot, doodde ik eene geit, die een\nzuigend jong bij zich had, hetgeen mij van harte speet. Toen de moeder\nviel, bleef het jong stokstijf bij haar staan, tot ik kwam en haar\nopnam. Toen ik de oude geit op mijne schouders laadde en haar wegdroeg,\nvolgde het jong mij tot aan mijne heining. Ik legde daar de oude neder,\nnam het jong in mijne armen en droeg het over de palissaden, in de hoop\nvan het tam te maken; maar het wilde niet eten, dus was ik gedwongen het\nte dooden en het zelf te eten. Deze twee geiten voorzagen mij voor\nlangen tijd van vleesch; want ik at matig, en spaarde mijne eetwaren\n(vooral mijn brood), zooveel ik bij mogelijkheid kon.\nNa thans mijne woning bepaald te hebben, achtte ik het volstrekt\nnoodzakelijk eene plaats te hebben waar, en brandhout waarmede ik stoken\nkon. Ik zal op zijne plaats verhalen, hoe ik dit alles deed, en hoe ik\nmijn kelder vergrootte, maar ik moet eenig verslag van mijzelven en van\nmijne denkbeelden over mijne verdere levenswijze, die inderdaad niet\nweinig waren, geven.\nMijn toestand leverde een treurig vooruitzigt op. De storm, die mij op\ndit eiland geworpen had, had mij tevens geheel buiten den koers van onze\nvoorgenomen reis geslagen, en wel honderd mijlen buiten het gewone\nvaarwater der koopvaarders. Ik had dus groote reden, het als een besluit\ndes Hemels te beschouwen, dat ik in deze eenzame plaats en op deze\nverlatene wijze mijn leven zou eindigen. Mijne tranen stroomden bij\ndeze gedachten, en somwijlen vroeg ik mij zelven af, waarom de\nVoorzienigheid sommige harer schepselen zoo diep rampzalig maakte, zoo\nhulpeloos en verlaten, dat het leven naauwelijks een reden tot\ndankbaarheid was.\nMaar altijd kwam er iets in mij op, dat deze gedachten stuitte, en mij\ner over berispte. Op zekeren dag in het bijzonder, toen ik met mijn\ngeweer in de hand langs het strand wandelde, peinsde ik ernstig over\nmijn tegenwoordigen toestand, toen mijne rede als het ware toetrad, en\nmij de zaak van eene andere zijde deed beschouwen. Het is waar, zeide\nzij, gij zijt in een rampzaligen toestand, maar ei lieve, waar zijn uwe\nkameraden? Waart gij niet elf personen in de boot? waar zijn de tien\noverigen? Waarom zijn zij niet gered, en zijt gij niet vergaan? Waarom\nzijt gij uitgezonderd? Is het beter hier of daar te zijn? Hierbij wees\nik op de zee. Het kwaad moet men beschouwen met het goede, dat er mede\ngepaard gaat, en het kwade, waarvan het bevrijd is gebleven.\nVervolgens bedacht ik, hoe goed voor mijn onderhoud gezorgd was, en wat\nmijn lot zou geweest zijn, als niet (hetgeen honderdduizend tegen een\nwas) het schip van de plaats, waar het eerst gestooten had, vlot\ngeraakt, en zoo digt bij den wal gedreven was, dat ik in staat was\ngeweest, er al die goederen uit te halen. Hoe zou mijn toestand geweest\nzijn, als ik had moeten leven in den staat, waarin ik het eerst aan wal\nkwam, zonder levensmiddelen en zonder eenig middel, mij die te\nverschaffen. Wat vooral zoudt gij gedaan hebben, zeide ik luid tot\nmijzelven, zonder geweer, zonder kruid of lood, zonder eenig gereedschap\nom iets te maken of mede te werken, zonder kleederen, beddegoed of eenig\ndeksel?\nNu ik dit alles in genoegzame hoeveelheid had, en fraai op weg was, mij\nzoodanig in te rigten, dat ik zonder mijn geweer zou kunnen leven als\nmijn kruid op was, zoo dat ik een gegrond vooruitzigt op voedsel had,\nzoo lang als ik leefde, want van den beginne af had ik er mijne\ngedachten over laten gaan, hoe in verschillende omstandigheden te\nhandelen, in het toekomende, niet alleen als mijn kruid en lood op zou\nzijn, maar zelfs als mijne gezondheid en krachten zouden afnemen.\nIk moet echter bekennen, dat ik toen echter volstrekt er niet aan dacht,\ndat ik mijn kruid in eens, door den bliksem meen ik, kon verliezen, en\nhierdoor was ik zoo ontsteld, toen dit denkbeeld voor de eerste maal bij\nhet onweder, bij mij op kwam.\nEn, daar ik nu het droevig verslag van een eenzaam leven moet beginnen,\ngelijk men welligt nimmer in de wereld meer gehoord heeft, zal ik dit\nvan den beginne af en met orde verhalen. Het was, naar mijne rekening,\nde 30ste September, toen ik op de vermelde wijze het eerst den voet op\nhet woest eiland zette, toen de zon, bij ons in de herfstevening,\nbijkans regt boven mijn hoofd stond, want ik rekende, dat ik mij op 9\u00b0,\n22' ten noorden van de linie bevond.\nNa een verblijf van tien of twaalf dagen, kwam het mij in de gedachten,\ndat ik, bij gebrek van boeken en schrijfgereedschap, met de tijdtelling\nverward raken zou, en zelfs den zondag niet van de werkdagen\nonderscheiden kunnen. Om dit te voorkomen sneed ik met mijn mes op een\ngrooten staak, met kapitale letters, het volgende opschrift:\nIK KWAM HIER AAN WAL DEN 30 SEPTEMBER 1659.\nen plaatste dit op een staak, in den vorm van een kruis, aan het strand,\nwaar ik het eerst aan land gekomen was. Op de zijden van dezen stijl\nsneed ik elken dag een kerf met mijn mes, en elke zevende kerf eens zoo\nlang als de overigen, en elken eersten dag van de maand weder eens zoo\nlang, en aldus hield ik mijn almanak, en berekende de weken, maanden en\njaren.\nIk moet nog zeggen, dat onder de vele goederen, die ik op verschillende\nreizen, van het schip afbragt, zich verscheidene zaken van minder waarde\nbevonden, die mij echter niet minder van nut waren, en welke ik vroeger\nvergeten had te vermelden, zoo als vooreerst pennen, inkt en papier,\nverscheidene zaken van den kapitein, stuurman, konstapel en timmerman\nafkomstig, als drie of vier kompassen, eenige zeevaartkundige\ninstrumenten, zonnewijzers, verrekijkers, kaarten en boeken over de\nstuurmanskunst, hetwelk ik alles ondereen wierp, of ik het soms noodig\nmogt hebben. Ook vond ik drie goede Bijbels, die bij de lading, mij uit\nEngeland gezonden, geweest waren, en die ik onder mijne bagaadje gepakt\nhad, ook eenige Portugesche boeken, en daar onder twee of drie Roomsche\ngebedenboeken en andere werken, die ik allen zorgvuldig borg. En ik moet\nniet vergeten, dat wij aan boord een hond en twee katten hadden, wier\nzonderlinge geschiedenis ik in het vervolg vermelden zal. Ik nam de\nbeide katten mede, en de hond sprong uit zichzelve over boord en zwom\nnaar den wal, den dag, nadat ik voor het eerst eene lading aan land\ngebragt had, en was mij vele jaren een trouw dienaar; mij ontbrak niets\nwat hij mij kon verschaffen; hij was voor mij een uitmuntend gezelschap\ngeweest, zoo hij slechts had kunnen spreken, maar dat ging niet. Gelijk\nik zeide, ik vond pennen, inkt en papier, en was daar zoo zuinig op, als\nmogelijk; en het zal den lezer blijken, dat ik, zoo lang mijne inkt\nduurde, alles zeer naauwkeurig opteekende, maar toen deze op was, was\ndit onmogelijk, want ik kon geene inkt maken, wat ik ook verzon.\nDit herinnert mij, dat mij nog vele dingen ontbraken, niettegenstaande\nal wat ik bijeengeraapt had; hieronder behoorde de inkt, eene spade,\nhouweel en schop, om den grond te bewerken; naalden, spelden en garen.\nWat linnen betrof, dit leerde ik spoedig zonder moeite ontberen.\nDit gebrek aan gereedschap maakte, dat al mijn werk langzaam van de hand\nging, en het duurde bijkans een jaar, alvorens ik mijne kleine schans,\nof met palissaden bezette woning, voltooid had; het kappen der palen en\nstaken, die zoo zwaar waren als ik ze slechts vervoeren kon, vereischte\nveel tijd, en nog meer het bewerken en naar huis slepen. Ik bragt\nsomtijds twee dagen door met een dezer palen te kappen en naar huis te\nbrengen, en een derden met dien in den grond te slaan, waartoe ik eerst\neen zwaar stuk hout gebruikte, maar eindelijk bedacht mijn koevoet te\ngebruiken; doch ook hiermede bleef het inslaan van deze palen een zeer\nmoeijelijk en vervelend werk.\nMaar wat behoefde ik mij te bekommeren of iets wat ik te doen had,\nvervelend was, aangezien ik tijd genoeg had, om het te verrigten? Als\ndit afgeloopen was, had ik toch geene andere bezigheid, ten minste niet\ndie ik voorzien kon, behalve het rondgaan van het eiland, om voedsel te\nzoeken, wat ik elken dag meer of minder deed.\nIk begon nu ernstig over mijn toestand, en de omstandigheden waarin ik\nmij bevond, na te denken, en ik maakte schriftelijk een staat van mijne\nzaken, niet zoo zeer voor iemand, die na mij hier komen zou, want\nwaarschijnlijk zou ik weinig erfgenamen hebben, maar wel om mijne\ngedachten, die daar dagelijks op gevestigd waren en mijn geest\nne\u00eardrukten, lucht te geven, en dewijl de rede thans bij mij de overhand\nbegon te krijgen, begon ik mij te troosten zoo goed ik kon en plaatste\nhet goede tegenover het kwade, om mijn toestand van een nog ergeren te\nonderscheiden. Ik stelde dan zeer onpartijdig, als debiteur en\ncrediteur, het goede, dat ik genoot, tegenover de rampen, die ik leed;\nop deze wijze:\n_Ik ben op een akelig          Maar ik ben in leven en\nonbewoond eiland geworpen,       niet verdronken, zoo als al\nbuiten alle hoop op verlossing.  mijne scheepsmakkers.\nIk ben uitgekipt en als het      Maar ik ben ook uitgekipt\nware afgezonderd van de          uit al het scheepsvolk,\ngeheele wereld, om ongelukkig    om van den dood gespaard\nte zijn.                         te worden, en Hij, die mij\n                                 wonderbaarlijk van den dood\nIk ben van het menschdom         Maar ik ben niet verhongerd,\nafgesneden als een kluizenaar,   en verga niet op eene\nals een balling uit              onvruchtbare plaats, die geen\nde maatschappij.                 voedsel oplevert.\nIk heb geene kleederen,          Maar ik ben in een warm\nom mij te bedekken.              klimaat, waar ik naauwelijks\nIk ben genoegzaam weerloos,      Maar ik ben op een eiland\nzonder de middelen,              geworpen, waar ik geene wilde\nom mij tegen menschen of         dieren zie, gelijk op de\nbeesten te verdedigen.           Afrikaansche kust. Wat\nIk heb niemand tegen             Maar God heeft wonderdadig\nwien ik spreken, of die          het schip digt genoeg\nmij opbeuren kan.                bij den wal gezonden, opdat\nOver het geheel blijkt het uit deze balans duidelijk, dat er naauwelijks\neenige toestand in de wereld zoo rampzalig is, dat men niet, hetzij, om\nhet gemis van eenig kwaad, hetzij, om het bezit van eenig goed, dankbaar\nmoet zijn. Volgens mijne ervaring van een der bedroevendste toestanden\nin de wereld, vinden wij er altoos iets in, om ons mede te troosten, en\nbij onze overweging van denzelven, op de creditzijde te plaatsen.\nNa op deze wijze mij eenigzins in mijn toestand getroost te hebben,\nstaarde ik niet meer zoo onophoudelijk zeewaarts, of ik een schip kon\nzien; maar begon mij het leven zoo aangenaam als mogelijk te maken.\nReeds heb ik mijne woning beschreven, die eene tent was, tegen eene rots\naan, omringd met sterke palissaden, die men wel een muur mogt heeten,\nwant ik maakte er eenen wal tegen van zoden, van twee voet breed, aan de\nbuitenzijde, en na eenigen tijd (ongeveer anderhalf jaar denk ik),\nbragt ik staken er van tegen de rots, en bedekte die met boomtakken, en\nal wat ik dienstig achtte, om den regen af te weren, die sommige tijden\nvan het jaar allerhevigst viel.\nIk heb reeds aangemerkt, hoe ik al mijne goederen binnen deze schans\nbragt en in den kelder, dien ik gemaakt had, maar ik moet er bij\nvermelden, dat dit in den beginne een verwarde hoop goederen was, die,\ndaar zij ordeloos door elkander lagen, de geheele plaats vulden. Ik kon\nmij keeren noch wenden, dus begon ik mijn kelder te vergrooten, en\ndieper in den grond te werken, want de rots bestond uit lossen\nzandsteen, die gemakkelijk te bewerken was; en toen ik vond, dat ik voor\nverscheurende dieren veilig was, werkte ik zijwaarts in de rots, en toen\nweder regtsaf werkende, groef ik tot naar buiten, en maakte eene deur,\nwaardoor ik buiten mijne palen of schans kwam.\nDat verschafte mij niet alleen een uitgang van achteren, maar gaf mij\nook ruimte, om veel goed te bergen.\nEn nu ging ik aan het werk, om zoodanige goederen te maken, als ik vond\nhet meest benoodigd te zijn, vooral een stoel en tafel, want zonder deze\nkon ik de weinige geneugten, die ik in de wereld had, niet smaken; ik\nkon niet met genoegen eten of schrijven, of verschillende andere zaken\nverrigten, als ik niet aan eene tafel zat. Ik moet hier aanmerken, dat\nde rede de grondslag der wiskunde is, en dat iedereen, die gezond over\nberekeningen en evenredigheden kan oordeelen, alle werktuigelijke\nkunsten begrijpen en leeren kan. Ik had nimmer gereedschap gehanteerd,\nmaar ten laatste vond ik, dat mij niets ontbrak of ik had het kunnen\nmaken, vooral, als ik gereedschap had gehad. Zonder gereedschap\nvervaardigde ik echter ook nog veel, en sommige dingen met geen ander\ngereedschap dan een dissel en een bijl, die welligt nimmer op die wijze\nvroeger zijn vervaardigd geworden. Dit ging echter niet zonder\nontzettende moeite. Als ik bij voorbeeld eene plank noodig had, zat er\nniet anders voor mij op, dan een boom te vellen, dien op een helling\nvoor mij te leggen, en aan weerszijden met mijn bijl af te hakken, tot\nik hem zoo dun als eene plank had gemaakt, die ik dan met mijn dissel\nvlak maakte. Wel is waar, ik kon op die wijze van een geheelen boom\nslechts eene plank maken; maar hier zat niets op dan geduld te hebben,\ndat hoog noodig was, voor den ontzettenden tijd en arbeid, dien het\nmaken van eene plank mij kostte; maar mijn tijd of arbeid was weinig\nwaard, en dus kon ik die even goed op de eene als op de andere wijze\nbesteden.\nIk maakte mij echter in de eerste plaats een stoel en tafel, zoo als ik\nzeide; en dit deed ik van de korte planken, die ik op mijn vlot van\nboord had gebragt; maar toen ik op de bovengemelde wijze eenige planken\ngemaakt had, maakte ik groote vakken van anderhalf voet breed, boven\nelkander, langs de eene zijde van mijn kelder, om er al mijn\ngereedschap, spijkers en ijzerwerk in te leggen, en ieder ding zijne\nafzonderlijke plaats te geven, om het gemakkelijk te kunnen vinden; ook\nsloeg ik krammen in den muur van de rots, om mijne geweren, en wat\nverder hangen kon, aan op te hangen; zoodat, als men mijn kelder gezien\nhad, men dien als een magazijn van allerlei noodwendigheden zou\nbeschouwd hebben. Ik had alles zoo bij de hand, dat het mij tot een\ngroot genoegen strekte, al mijne goederen in zoo goede orde te zien, en\nvooral, dat mijn voorraad zoo groot was.\nThans begon ik een dagboek van mijne verrigtingen van elken dag te\nhouden. In den beginne was ik hiertoe te veel bezig geweest, niet alleen\nmet werk, maar ook overladen met ne\u00earslagtigheid, en mijn journaal ware\nmet allerhande buitensporigheden gevuld geworden. Ik had bij voorbeeld\nmoeten zeggen: den 30sten September. Na aan wal gekomen en voor\nverdrinken bewaard te zijn, in stede van toen God voor mijne bevrijding\nte danken, ontlastte ik eerst mijne maag van al het zeewater, dat ik in\nmenigte binnen gekregen had, en eenigzins hersteld zijnde, liep ik langs\nhet strand, mijne handen wringende, mij tegen het voorhoofd slaande,\nover mijne ellende jammerende, en uitroepende: \"Ik ben verloren! ik ben\nverloren!\" totdat de afgematheid mij dwong op den grond te gaan liggen,\nom te rusten, want ik durfde niet slapen, uit vrees van aan wilde dieren\nten prooi te vallen.\nEenige dagen daarna, en nadat ik aan boord van het schip was geweest, en\nal wat ik kon er uit gehaald had, kon ik toch niet nalaten een heuvel te\nbeklimmen en in zee te zien, op hoop van een schip te bespeuren, totdat\nmijne verhitte verbeelding mij een zeil deed zien, dat, nadat mijne\noogen schier blind gestaard waren, weder verdween, waarna ik ging zitten\nweenen als een kind, en op deze wijze door mijne dwaasheid mijn ongeluk\nvermeerderde.\nToen ik dit echter eenigzins te boven was, en mijne huishouding en\nwoning in orde bragt, mij een tafel en stoel maakte, en alles rondom mij\nzoo goed opknapte als ik kon, begon ik een journaal te houden, hetgeen\nik hier laat volgen (schoon al de bijzonderheden reeds vermeld zijn) zoo\nlang het duurde, want, toen ik op het laatst geen inkt meer had, moest\nik het staken.\nHET JOURNAAL.\n1659. 30 September. Ik, arme, ongelukkige Robinson Crusoe, kwam, na\nschipbreuk geleden te hebben, op dit rampzalig, woest eiland, dat ik het\n_Wanhoops-eiland_ noemde, al mijne scheepsmakkers zijn verdronken, en ik\nzelf half dood.\nDen geheelen verderen dag bragt ik door met mijn ongelukkig lot te\nbejammeren. Ik had geen voedsel, woning, kleederen, wapenen noch\ntoevlugtsoord, en aan alle uitkomst wanhopende, niets dan den dood voor\noogen, hetzij, dat ik door wilde dieren verslonden, door wilden\nvermoord, of uit gebrek aan voedsel verhongeren moest. Bij het aanbreken\nvan den nacht, ging ik, uit vrees voor wilde dieren, in een boom slapen,\nmaar sliep gerust, schoon het den geheelen nacht regende.\n1 October. In den morgen zag ik met verwondering, dat het schip met den\nvloed vlot was geraakt en op het strand veel digter bij het eiland was\ngedreven; hetwelk aan den eenen kant eene vertroosting was, want daar\nhet overeind was en niet in stukken gebroken, hoopte ik, als de wind\nbedaarde, er aan boord te komen en eenig voedsel en noodwendigheden voor\nmij uit te halen. Aan den anderen kant hernieuwde het mijn jammer over\nhet verlies mijner makkers, die, als wij allen aan boord gebleven waren,\nwelligt het schip behouden hadden; althans zouden zij niet allen\nverdronken zijn, gelijk thans. En zoo zij gered waren, hadden wij\nmisschien uit de overblijfselen van het schip eene boot kunnen bouwen,\nom ons naar een ander deel der wereld te brengen. Ik bragt den geheelen\ndag door met hierover te peinzen, maar, toen ik eindelijk zag, dat het\nschip bijkans droog zat, ging ik op het zand er zoo digt bij als ik kon,\nen zwom toen aan boord. Het regende ook heden den geheelen dag, schoon\nzonder eenigen wind.\nVan 1 tot 24 October. Al deze dagen doorgebragt in het doen van\nverschillende togten, om al wat ik kon uit het schip te halen, hetgeen\nik telkens, als de vloed doorkwam, op vlotten aan wal bragt. Veel regen\nin deze dagen, doch tusschenbeide mooi weder; het schijnt, dat dit het\nregenachtige jaargetijde is.\n24 October. Mijn vlot viel om en al wat er op lag, maar, daar het in\nondiep water was, en er veel zware goederen bij waren, bekwam ik er bij\nlaag water veel van terug.\n25 October. Het regende den geheelen nacht en dag, met eenige\nwindvlagen, gedurende welken tijd het schip verbrijzeld werd, en er\nniets meer van te zien bleef, dan alleen bij laag water het wrak. Ik\nbragt den dag door met de goederen, die ik gered had, te bergen en te\nbedekken, opdat de regen ze niet zou bederven.\n26 October. Bijkans den geheelen dag liep ik het strand langs, om eene\nplaats te zoeken, waar ik mijn verblijf zou kiezen, vooral bezorgd, om\nmij voor eenigen nachtelijken overval van menschen of beesten te\nbeveiligen. Tegen den avond koos ik eene geschikte plaats uit, tegen\neene rots aan, en maakte een halven cirkel voor mijn verblijf, dat ik\nbesloot te versterken met een wal of schans, uit twee rijen palen, van\nbinnen met kabeltouw belegd, en van buiten met zoden.\nVan den 26sten tot 30sten werkte ik zeer hard, om al mijn goed naar\nmijne nieuwe woning te vervoeren, schoon het somtijds zeer hard regende.\nDen 31sten. In den morgen ging ik uit met mijn geweer, om eenig voedsel\nte zoeken en het land te ontdekken. Ik doodde eene geit en haar jong\nvolgde mij naar huis, dat ik naderhand ook doodde, omdat het niet eten\nwilde.\n1 November. Ik sloeg mijne tent op onder eene rots, en bragt daarin den\neersten nacht door; ik heb die zoo wijd gemaakt als ik kon, en er palen\nin geslagen, om mijne hangmat aan te hangen.\n2 November. Ik zette al mijne kisten en planken en de rondhouten van\nmijne vlotten op, en maakte daarvan eene verschansing, een weinig binnen\nde plaats, die ik gekozen had, om mij te vestigen.\n3 November. Ik ging uit met mijn geweer, en schoot twee vogels, naar\neendvogels gelijkende, die zeer goed waren om te eten. Des namiddags\nging ik aan het werk, om eene tafel te maken.\n4 November. Dezen morgen begon ik mijn tijd te verdeelen, in werkuren,\neen tijd, om met mijn geweer uit te gaan, een tijd, om te slapen en een\ntijd tot uitspanning. Elken morgen ging ik, als het niet regende, twee\nof drie uren met mijn geweer uit; dan ging ik aan het werk tot tegen elf\nuren; dan at ik wat ik had, en van twaalf tot twee uren deed ik een\nslaapje, daar het alsdan drukkend heet was, en ging dan weder tot den\navond aan het werk. Dezen en den volgenden dag besteedde ik al mijne\nwerkuren aan het maken van eene tafel; maar ik was een bedroefde\ntimmerman, hoewel de tijd en de noodzakelijkheid mij spoedig een goed\nhandwerksman maakten, gelijk zij, geloof ik, iedereen zouden doen.\n5 November. Dezen dag ging ik met mijn geweer en mijn hond uit, en\nschoot eene wilde kat; hare huid was zeer zacht, maar haar vleesch\ndeugde niets. Ieder dier, dat ik doodde, stroopte ik de huid af en\nbewaarde die. Toen ik langs het strand terugkeerde, zag ik verscheidene\nzeevogels, die ik niet kende, maar ik was verrast en bijkans verschrikt\ndoor het zien van twee robben, die, terwijl ik er op staarde, en\nalvorens ik zag wat dit waren, in zee doken en mij voor dat oogenblik\nontsnapten.\n6 November. Na mijne ochtendwandeling ging ik weder aan mijne tafel aan\nhet werk, en maakte die af, schoon zij mij niet beviel; het duurde\nechter niet lang of ik kon haar verbeteren.\n7 November. Het werd thans bestendig weder. Den 7den, 8sten, 9den, 10den\nen een gedeelte van den 12den (want naar mijne rekening was het den\n11den, zondag) besteedde ik geheel in het maken van een stoel, en gaf\ndaar met veel moeite een redelijk fatsoen aan, schoon hij mij nimmer\nbeviel, en ik onder het maken hem verscheidene malen weder aan stukken\nbrak. Ik moet hierbij aanmerken, dat ik spoedig vergat de zondagen te\nrekenen, omdat ik hun merk op den stijl vergeten had.\n13 November. Dezen dag regende het, hetgeen mij zeer verfrischte, en de\naarde verkoelde; maar de regen ging met een verschrikkelijk onweder\ngepaard, hetgeen mij voor mijn kruid veel angst deed uitstaan. Zoodra\ndat voorbij was, besloot ik al mijn kruid in kleine gedeelten te bergen,\nopdat het geen gevaar zou loopen.\n14, 15 en 16 November. Deze drie dagen sleet ik geheel met het maken van\nvierkante kistjes of doozen, die een of op zijn hoogst twee pond kruid\nkonden bevatten, en na het kruid er in geborgen te hebben, zette ik die\nin zoo veilige en afgelegen plaatsen als ik kon. Op een van deze drie\ndagen schoot ik een grooten vogel, die goed om te eten was, maar wiens\nnaam ik niet kende.\n17 November. Dezen dag begon ik achter mijne tent in de rots te graven,\nom meerder ruimte voor mij te verkrijgen. Drie dingen had ik hiertoe\nvooral noodig; te weten een houweel, een schop en een kruiwagen. Ik liet\ndus het werk staan, en begon te overwegen, hoe ik in dit gebrek voorzien\nen mij eenige werktuigen vervaardigen zou. In plaats van het houweel,\nkon ik een der ijzeren koevoeten gebruiken, hoewel die zwaar genoeg\nwaren; maar thans had ik eene spade noodig; deze was zoo noodig, dat ik\nzonder haar niet veel uitrigten kon; maar hoe ik er eene maken zou wist\nik niet.\n18 November. Den volgenden dag vond ik in het bosch een boom van het\nhout, dat men in Brazili\u00eb ijzerhout noemt, omdat het zoo hard is. Ik\nkapte hiervan een gedeelte, schoon met veel moeite, en hoewel het mij\nbijkans mijne bijl gekost had, en bragt het moeijelijk genoeg naar huis,\nwant het was zeer zwaar.\nDe ontzettende hardheid van dit hout, hield mij lang op, hoewel ik er\nechter van lieverlede het fatsoen van een spade aan gaf, van boven met\neen handvatsel gelijk de onze; maar daar het ondereinde niet van ijzer\nwas, kon zij zoo lang niet duren. Zij was echter voldoende voor hetgeen\nik ermede doen wilde. Ik geloof niet, dat men ooit eene spade op die\nmanier, of die zooveel tijd kostte, gemaakt heeft.\nIk had nog niet al wat ik noodig had; ik moest nog eene mand of een\nkruiwagen hebben. Eene mand kon ik niet maken, omdat ik geen buigzame\nteenen bezat, ik vond ze althans niet; en wat den kruiwagen betreft, ik\nverbeeldde mij, dat ik die zeer goed zou kunnen maken, behalve het wiel;\ndaar had ik geen begrip van, en wist niet, hoe ik het aan zou vangen;\nbovendien had ik geen ijzeren banden, waarin de as van het wiel kon\nloopen; dus gaf ik dit op. Om dus de aarde, die ik uitdelfde, weg te\ndragen, maakte ik eene soort van bak, gelijk die, waarin de metselaars\nhunne kalk dragen. Dit maken ging gemakkelijker dan de spade, en toch\nhad ik aan het een en ander, en aan mijne vergeefsche pogingen, om een\nkruiwagen zamen te stellen, vier dagen noodig; altijd daar afgerekend\nmijne morgenwandelingen, die ik zelden verzuimde, en waarvan ik ook\nmeestal iets eetbaars te huis bragt.\n23 November. Daar mijn ander werk stil gestaan had, terwijl ik mijne\ngereedschappen maakte, hervatte ik dit thans, en werkte er zooveel aan\nals mijne krachten mij toelieten, achttien dagen achtereen aan het\nverwijden en uitdiepen van mijn kelder, ten einde al mijne goederen er\ngemakkelijk in zouden kunnen staan.\nAl dien tijd werkte ik, om eene kamer of kelder te maken, groot genoeg\nom mij tot magazijn, tot keuken, tot eetkamer en tot kelder te\nverstrekken. De tent was mijne eigenlijke woning; maar in het\nregensaisoen regende het somtijds zoo hard, dat ik er mij niet droog kon\nhouden, daarom bedekte ik naderhand mijn geheele verblijf binnen de\npalissaden, met lange staken in den vorm van latten, tegen de rots aan\nliggende, en bedekte die met takken en bladeren.\n10 December. Ik had thans gedacht, dat mijn kelder zoo goed als gereed\nwas; toen plotseling (naar het schijnt, had ik te wijd uitgegraven) een\nzoo groote menigte aarde, van boven en van een der zijden, viel, dat ik\ner hevig van ontroerde, en geen wonder, want ware ik er onder geweest,\nmen had nimmer een graf voor mij behoeven te graven. Deze tegenspoed\nverschafte mij op nieuw een groot deel werk, want ik moest de losse\naarde naar buiten brengen, en, wat van meer belang was, het gewelf\nstutten, opdat ik voor geene herhaling van dit ongeval behoefde te\nvreezen.\n11 December. Ik ging hieraan werken, en stutte den zolder met twee\nstijlen met twee planken dwars er over; den volgenden dag was dit\nafgewerkt, en door nog meer stutten te plaatsen, had ik in eene week het\ndak in orde, en de op rijen staande palen, dienden thans om de\nverdeelingen van mijn huis te maken.\n17 December. Van dezen dag tot den 20sten hield ik mij bezig met planken\nte leggen en spijkers te slaan in de stijlen, om alles, wat ik kon,\ndaaraan te hangen, en thans begon ik binnen 's huis eenigzins op orde te\nkomen.\n20 December. Thans droeg ik alles in den kelder en begon mijne woning te\nmeubeleren, en eenige planken te plaatsen, om levensmiddelen op te\nleggen; maar de planken werden schraal. Ook maakte ik eene andere tafel.\n24 December. Het regent den geheelen nacht en dag, zoodat ik niet kan\nuitgaan.\n25 December. Den geheelen dag regen.\n26 December. Droog weder en de grond veel koeler en aangenamer dan te\nvoren.\n27 December. Ik schoot een jonge geit, en kwetste een andere, zoodat ik\nhaar ving en naar huis droeg. Daar gekomen bond ik het dier vast en\nspalkte haar poot.\nNB. Ik droeg zooveel zorg voor haar, dat zij in leven bleef, en de poot\ngenas en werd zoo goed als te voren. Door haar zoo lang op te passen\nwerd zij tam, en leefde van het weinige gras voor mijne deur, en wilde\nniet weder weg. Dit deed mij voor het eerst denken eenige tamme dieren\naan te fokken, ten einde voedsel van hen te hebben als mijn kruid op zou\nzijn.\n28, 29 en 30 December. Zware hitte en geen wind, zoodat ik niet naar\nbuiten kon, dan tegen den avond op wild uitgaan. Dezen tijd bragt ik\ndoor met in mijne huishouding alles in orde te brengen.\n1 Januarij. Het was nog drukkend warm; maar ik ging 's morgens en 's\navonds met mijn geweer uit, en nam op het midden van den dag rust. Dezen\navond was ik verder de valleijen ingegaan, die naar het midden van het\neiland voerden, en vond, dat daar geiten in menigte waren, schoon\nuiterst schuw en moeijelijk te bekruipen. Ik besloot echter te\nbeproeven, of ik mijn hond er geen jagt op kon doen maken.\n2 Januarij. Ik ging derhalve den volgenden dag met mijn hond uit, en\nhitste hem op de geiten aan; maar ik had mij misrekend, want zij hielden\nstand tegen den hond, en deze besefte zijn gevaar, want hij durfde haar\nniet naderen.\n3 Januarij. Ik begon aan mijne heining of wal, dien ik zoo sterk als\nmogelijk besloot te maken, om dat ik nog altijd vreesde overvallen te\nzullen worden.\nNB. Daar deze wal vroeger beschreven is, zal ik hier weglaten wat\ndeswege in mijn journaal staat; alleen zal ik vermelden, dat ik van den\n3 Januarij tot den 14 April bezig was aan het maken, voltooijen en\nverbeteren van dezen muur, schoon hij niet meer dan vierentwintig el\nlang was, zijnde een halve cirkel, van eene plaats in de rots, tot aan\neene andere, acht el vandaar, terwijl de deur van den kelder in het\nmidden achter denzelven was.\nAl dien tijd werkte ik hard, hoewel de regen mij vele dagen, ja weken\nachtereen hinderde; maar ik achtte mij niet veilig voor de geheele muur\naf was; en men kan naauwelijks gelooven, welken ontzettenden arbeid\nalles vereischte, vooral het halen van de palen uit het bosch, en hen in\nden grond te slaan; want ik nam veel zwaarder dan noodig was.\nToen deze muur voltooid, en van buiten met een wal van zoden beschermd\nwas, achtte ik het voor zeker, dat, zoo er eenig volk aan het strand\nkwam, zij niets, wat naar eene woning geleek, zouden bemerken; en een\nmerkwaardig geval bewees naderhand, dat ik wel geoordeeld had.\nGedurende dezen tijd deed ik alle dagen, als de regen het toeliet, de\nronde in het bosch, en ontdekte dikwijls op deze togten veel, dat mij\nvan nut was. Zoo vond ik eene soort van wilde duiven, die niet gelijk de\nhoutduiven op boomen, maar als huisduiven in spleten van de rotsen\nnestelden. Ik nam eenige jongen mede en trachtte die tam te maken; maar\ntoen zij ouder werden vlogen zij allen weg, misschien, omdat ik haar\ngeen eten gaf, want ik had dit niet. Ik vond echter dikwijls hare\nnesten, en nam de jongen er uit, die zeer goed om te eten waren.\nIk begon thans te denken om verscheidene dingen, die mij in mijn\nhuishouding ontbraken, te maken, hetgeen ik eerst als geheel onmogelijk\nhad beschouwd, gelijk ook met sommigen het geval was; ik kon bij\nvoorbeeld nimmer een ton maken; ik had een paar vaatjes, gelijk ik\ngezegd heb, maar ik kon er nimmer een paar maken, schoon ik er\nverscheidene weken aan zoek bragt; ik kon nimmer den bodem of de duigen\nzoo goed bijeenbrengen, dat het water hield; dus gaf ik het op. Ik was\nzeer verlegen ook om kaarsen, want zoodra het duister was, dat is te\nzeven ure gewoonlijk, moest ik naar bed gaan. Ik wenschte thans wel dien\nklomp was te bezitten, dien ik op mijne reis langs de Afrikaansche kust\nhad; maar al wat mij thans overschoot was, als ik eene geit gedood had,\ndat ik dan het vet bewaarde, in eene kom van klei, in de zon gedroogd,\nen een pit van eiken schors daarin brandde. Te midden van mijn arbeid\nkwam mij een zakje in de hand, waarin koorn was geweest, om het vorige\ngevogelte mede te voeden, ik denk toen het schip van Lissabon kwam. Wat\ner in overgebleven was, hadden de ratten opgegeten, en ik zag niets in\nden zak dan stof en vuilnis, en daar ik het zakje wilde gebruiken (ik\ndenk om kruid in te doen, dat ik toen verdeelde, uit vrees voor den\nbliksem) schudde ik den zak uit, aan de eene zijde van mijne schans\nonder de rots.\nKort voor den grooten regen, waarvan ik sprak, had ik dit gedaan, zonder\ner verder over te denken. Maar eene maand of zoo daarna zag ik iets\ngroens opschieten, hetwelk ik eene plant dacht te zijn, die ik nog niet\nkende, maar ik stond geheel verbaasd, toen ik eene poos daarna tien of\ntwaalf aren zag opschieten, die volmaakt naar het Europesche, ja naar\nhet Engelsche graan geleken.\nHet is mij onmogelijk de verbazing en verbijstering, waarin dit mij\nbragt, uit te drukken. Ik had tot hiertoe naar geenerlei godsdienstige\ngronden in het geheel gehandeld; ik had zeer weinig begrip van de\ngodsdienst, noch iets wat mij overkomen was anders beschouwd, dan alsof\nhet toeval dit zoo gewild, of gelijk men zonder nadenken zegt, zoo als\nhet den Hemel behaagd had; maar zonder na te denken over de redenen,\nwaarom de Voorzienigheid de wereldsche gebeurtenissen aldus schikt. Maar\ntoen ik daar rogge zag groeijen, in eene hemelstreek, die ik wist, dat\ngeen koorn opleverde; en terwijl ik niet wist hoe het daar kwam, trof\nmij dit ten sterkste, en ik begon te vermoeden, dat God dit graan\nwonderbaarlijk had laten groeijen, zonder dat het gezaaid was geworden,\nen dat het alleen tot mijn onderhoud in deze woeste eenzame plaats\nopgeschoten was.\nDit perste mij de tranen uit de oogen, en ik beschouwde mij als door den\nHemel bijzonder begunstigd, dat zulk een wonderlijke gebeurtenis voor\nmij geschied was. Het verwonderde mij te meer, omdat ik daar digtbij,\nlangs de zijde van de rots, hier en daar eenige weinige halmen zag van\nrijst, die ik kende, omdat ik ze in Afrika, toen ik daar was, had zien\ngroeijen.\nNiet twijfelende, dat de Voorzienigheid dit aldus voor mij beschikt had\nen dat er nog meer aldaar was, ging ik alle deelen van het eiland door,\nwaar ik vroeger geweest was, zocht in iederen hoek en onder iedere rots,\nom nog meer te zien, maar kon niets meer vinden. Eindelijk kwam het mij\nin de gedachten, dat ik den zak, waarin het voedsel voor de kiekens\ngeweest was, daar uitgeschud had, en toen was het wonder opgehelderd, en\ndaarmede, ik moet het bekennen, mijne erkentelijkheid voor Gods\ngoedertierenheid, ten einde. Ik had echter dezelfde reden tot\ndankbaarheid, alsof het daar door een wonder gekomen was, want het was\nwaarlijk eene bestiering der Voorzienigheid, dat tien of twaalf korrels\ngraan onbedorven waren gebleven, terwijl de ratten al het overige\nvernield hadden; vervolgens, dat ik het juist op die plek had moeten\nwerpen, waar het, doordien het onder de schaduw van eene hooge rots\nstond, onmiddellijk kon opschieten, terwijl, zoo het te dier tijd ergens\nanders gevallen ware, het verzengd en vernield zou geworden zijn.\nIk gaarde zorgvuldig de aren op, gelijk men wel denken kan, toen zij\nrijp waren, hetgeen in het laatst van Junij was, en ieder korrel\nbewarende, besloot ik die op nieuw te zaaijen, in de hoop van met der\ntijd genoeg te bekomen, om mij brood te verschaffen. Het was echter\neerst in het vierde jaar, dat ik mij veroorloofde iets van het graan te\neten, en dit nog zeer spaarzaam, gelijk men later vernemen zal.\nBehalve dit graan waren er twintig of dertig rijsthalmen opgeschoten,\ndie ik even zorgvuldig en met hetzelfde oogmerk bewaarde, namelijk, om\nlater mij tot brood, of liever tot spijs te verstrekken; want ik vond\nmiddel om het te koken, zonder het te bakken, schoon ik dit naderhand\nook deed. Doch ik keer tot mijn journaal terug.\nIk werkte deze drie of vier maanden uiterst hard, om mijn muur gereed te\nkrijgen, en den 14 April sloot ik dien geheel, en ging naar buiten, niet\ndoor eene deur, maar over eene ladder, ten einde er aan de buitenzijde\ngeen spoor van mogt overblijven.\n16 April. Ik maakte de ladder af; klom met dezelve naar boven, haalde\ndie achter mij op, en liet die van binnen zakken. Ik had thans een\nvolkomen omheining voor mij; en van buiten kon men mij niet dan over den\nmuur genaken.\nDen dag nadat ik dezen muur voltooid had, was bijkans al mijn arbeid\nvruchteloos geweest, en ik zelf verongelukt. Dit was het geval. Toen ik\nvan binnen bezig was achter mijne tent, vlak in den ingang van mijn\nkelder, schrikte ik allerhevigst door iets, dat waarlijk ook\nallerverbazendst was. De aarde kwam van den zolder, van mijn kelder en\nvan de zijde van den heuvel over mijn hoofd rollen, en twee van de\nstijlen, die ik in den kelder overeinde had gezet, kraakten\nallerhevigst. Ik was ernstig geschrikt, maar dacht volstrekt niet aan de\nware oorzaak; alleenlijk begreep ik, dat de zolder van mijn kelder\ninstortte, gelijk vroeger nog eens gebeurd was. Uit vrees dus van\ndaaronder bedolven te worden, ijlde ik weg, en achtte mij niet veilig\nvoor ik over den muur was, uit vrees, dat de stukken rots op mijn hoofd\nmogten vallen. Naauwelijks was ik op vasten grond, of ik zag duidelijk,\ndat het eene verschrikkelijke aardbeving was, want de grond, waarop ik\nstond, schudde driemaal, ongeveer acht minuten na elkander, zoo hevig,\ndat de sterkste gebouwen er door hadden moeten instorten, en een top van\neene rots, die een halfuur van mij af, digt aan zee stond, viel met zulk\neen verschrikkelijk geraas naar beneden, als ik nimmer hoorde. Ik\nbemerkte ook dat de zee in hevige beweging was, en ik geloof, dat de\nschokken onder het water sterker dan op het eiland waren.\nIk was hiervan zoo verbaasd, daar ik nooit in mijn leven zoo iets had\ngevoeld, of van gehoord had, dat ik als geheel verplet was; en de\nbeweging van de aarde maakte mij ziek, als iemand, die zeeziek is. Het\ngeraas van de ne\u00earstortende rots bragt mij weder tot bezinning, en ik\nvreesde ieder oogenblik, dat de rots op mijne tent en al mijne goederen\nzou vallen en alles in eens bedelven; en dit denkbeeld deed mij schier\nbezwijken.\nToen de derde schok voorbij was, en ik eenigen tijd niets meer voelde,\nbegon ik moed te scheppen, maar had toch nog het hart niet, weder over\nden muur te gaan, uit vrees van levende begraven te worden. Ik bleef\nne\u00earslagtig en mistroostig op den grond zitten, niet wetende wat te\ndoen. Al dien tijd had ik niet het minste godsdienstige denkbeeld,\nbehalve, dat ik werktuigelijk uitriep: \"Heer, wees mij genadig!\" en toen\nhet gevaar over was waren alle gedachten aan den Hemel daarbij\nverdwenen.\nTerwijl ik aldus zat, betrok de lucht alsof het zou gaan regenen, en in\nminder dan een half uur blies er een allergeweldigste orkaan. De zee was\nplotseling met schuim bedekt, de golven sloegen over het strand, de\nboomen werden ontworteld; en deze verschrikkelijke storm duurde omtrent\ndrie uren, toen begon hij te bedaren, en twee uren later was het weder\nkalm, en begon het geweldig te regenen.\nAl dien tijd zat ik op den grond, zeer beducht en ne\u00earslagtig, toen het\nmij plotseling inviel, dat, daar deze wind en regen het gevolg van de\naardbeving waren, deze zelve voorbij was, en ik het wagen kon in mijn\nkelder te gaan. Deze gedachte herlevendigde mijn moed, en de regen deed\ner het zijne toe, om mij over te halen, dus ging ik naar binnen, en in\nmijne tent; doch de regen was zoo geweldig, dat mijne tent bijkans er\ndoor neergeslagen werd, dus was ik gedwongen in mijn kelder te gaan,\nhetgeen ik met veel zorg en onrust deed. Deze stortbui dwong mij tot\nnieuwen arbeid, want ik moest onder den muur een greppel graven, om het\nwater een afloop te geven, anders zou mijn kelder ondergeloopen hebben.\nNadat ik eenigen tijd in mijn kelder doorgebragt, en geene schokken meer\ngevoeld had, schepte ik wat moed, en om dien te versterken, ging ik naar\nmijn magazijn, en nam een slok rum; hetgeen ik echter toen en naderhand\naltijd zeer spaarzaam deed, wetende dat ik, als deze op was, geen meer\nkon bekomen. Den geheelen dag en een groot deel van den nacht bleef het\ndoorregenen, zoodat ik niet kon uitgaan; maar van mijne ontsteltenis\nbekomen, dacht ik na over hetgeen mij thans te doen stond. Als dit\neiland aan aardbevingen onderhevig was, kon ik niet in den kelder\nblijven wonen; maar moest ik een hutje voor mij bouwen, dat ik ook met\neen muur omringen kon, en mij daardoor voor menschen en beesten\nbeveiligen; want zoo ik bleef waar ik was, liep ik gevaar van te eeniger\ntijd levend begraven te worden.\nIk besloot mijne tent, die vlak tegen de rots aan stond, te verplaatsen,\ndaar deze bij eene nieuwe aardbeving er ligtelijk op kon storten. De\ntwee volgende dagen (19 en 20 April) besteedde ik met te overleggen\nwerwaarts en hoe ik mijne woning verleggen zou. De vrees van levend\nbedolven te worden belette mij allen gerusten slaap, en toch was ik even\nbevreesd, in het open veld, zonder eenige beschutting, te slapen; en\nwanneer ik rond zag, en alles zoo goed in orde vond, en hoe veilig ik\ngehuisvest en verborgen was, gevoelde ik grooten weerzin in deze plaats\nte verlaten.\nMiddelerwijl kwam het mij in de gedachten, dat met dit te maken veel\ntijd zou verloopen, en dat ik mij er in moest schikken het gevaar te\nblijven loopen waar ik was, totdat ik een kamp voor mij gemaakt had en\ndat zoo versterkt, dat ik daarheen kon verhuizen. Ik besloot dus zoo\nspoedig mogelijk aan het werk te gaan, en mij een wal te maken met palen\nen kabeltouw, gelijk de vorige, omringd, en in het midden daarvan mijne\ntent op te slaan, als die voltooid was, maar tot dien tijd zou ik het\nwagen te blijven waar ik was. Dit was den 21sten.\n22 April. Den volgenden morgen begon ik de middelen, om dit besluit uit\nte voeren, te overwegen, maar ik was in groote verlegenheid om\ngereedschappen. Ik had drie groote bijlen en eene menigte kleine, want\ndeze hadden wij medegenomen, om met de negers te handelen; maar door het\nkappen en behakken van hard hout, waren zij allen bot en vol scharen\ngeworden. Ik had wel een slijpsteen, maar kon dien niet draaijen, en\ntegelijk mijn gereedschap er op slijpen. Dit kostte mij meer tijd, dan\neen staatsman noodig heeft om over landen en volken, of een regter om\nover leven en dood uitspraak te doen. Eindelijk maakte ik een wiel met\neen strop, dat ik met mijn voet kon draaijen, zoodat ik mijne beide\nhanden vrij had.--Ik had zoo iets in Engeland nimmer gezien, of er\nalthans nooit geen acht op geslagen; hoewel ik naderhand vond, dat zij\ndaar zeer algemeen waren; ook was mijn slijpsteen groot en zeer zwaar.\nHet gereed maken van dit werktuig kostte mij eene geheele week tijd.\n28, 29 April. Deze twee dagen bragt ik door met mijne gereedschappen te\nslijpen; mijn werktuig om den steen te draaijen ging zeer goed.\n30 April. Daar ik bespeurde, dat mijn voorraad van brood sterk minderde,\nnam ik eens op wat er nog was, en stelde mij op rantsoen van een\nbeschuit per dag, hetgeen mij zeer ne\u00earslagtig maakte.\n1 Mei. Toen ik dezen morgen naar zee ging, zag ik, terwijl het zeer laag\nwater was, iets op het strand liggen. Toen ik er bij kwam vond ik een\nvaatje en twee of drie stukken van het wrak, die door den laatsten storm\nop het strand waren geslagen; en naar het wrak ziende, meende ik, dat\nhet hooger uit het water uitstak dan anders. Ik onderzocht het vaatje,\ndat op strand lag, en vond dat het een kruidvaatje was, doch dat nat\ngeworden was; het kruid was als een koek ineen gebakken, en zoo hard als\nsteen. Ik rolde het hooger op het strand vooreerst, en ging verder op\nzoo digt bij het wrak als ik kon.\nToen ik bij het schip kwam vond ik het geheel verplaatst; het voorschip,\ndat vroeger in het zand begraven lag, was ten minste zes voet opgebeurd,\nen het achterschip, dat door de woede der golven aan stukken geslagen en\nvan het overige als het ware afgerukt was geworden, kort na mijne\nlaatste reis derwaarts, was opgeheven en op zijde geworpen, en het zand\nwas aan dien kant bij den spiegel zoo hoog opgeworpen, dat ik er thans\nbij laag water naar toe kon wandelen. In het eerst stond ik hierover\nverbaasd, maar weldra begreep ik, dat het door de aardbeving moest\ngeschied zijn, en daar thans het schip meer dan te voren opengeslagen\nwas, kwamen er dagelijks vele dingen aan strand spoelen, die de zee\nlossloeg en door de wind en golven op het strand geworpen werden.\nDit bragt mij weder alle denkbeeld aan verhuizen uit het hoofd, en ik\nhield mij ijverig, vooral dien dag, bezig, met te zien of ik ook op\neenigerlei wijze in het schip kon komen; doch ik vond dat dit niet ging,\ndaar het vol zand was. Daar ik echter geleerd had niets op te geven,\nbesloot ik van het schip te slopen wat ik kon, overtuigd, dat alles mij\nop eene of andere wijze van nut kon zijn.\n3 Mei. Ik ging aan het visschen, maar vong geen een visch, dien ik eten\ndorst, tot juist toen ik er wilde uitscheiden, daar het mij verdroot, ik\neen jongen dolfijn ving. Ik had eene lange lijn van dun touw gemaakt,\nmaar had geen hoeken; ik ving echter dikwijls veel visch; althans zoo\nveel als ik lustte; die ik allen in de zon droogde, en gedroogd at.\n4 Mei. Ik begon met mijne zaag een balk door te zagen, die ik mij\nverbeeldde, dat een deel van het halfdek bijeenhield; en toen hij\ndoorgezaagd was, ruimde ik zoo veel ik kon het zand weg van den kant,\ndie het hoogst lag, maar toen de vloed doorkwam, was ik verpligt dit\nwerk voor 's hands te staken.\n5 Mei. Op het wrak gewerkt, een anderen balk doorgezaagd, en drie groote\nplanken van het dek gesloopt, die ik vastbond en met den vloed naar wal\nliet drijven.\n6 Mei. Op het wrak gewerkt, verscheidene ijzeren bouten en ander\nijzerwerk er af gebragt; zeer hard gewerkt en doodmoede te huis gekomen,\nmet veel lust het werk te staken.\n7 Mei. Weder naar het wrak gegaan, maar met oogmerk er niet te werken.\nIk vond dat het schip door zijne eigene zwaarte zich begeven had, de\nbalken waren gebroken en verscheidene stukken van het schip schenen los\nte liggen; en de binnenzijde van het ruim lag zoo open, dat ik er in\nzien kon; het was schier geheel vol met water en zand.\n8 Mei. Ik ging weder naar het wrak en nam een ijzeren koevoet mede, om\nhet dek op te breken, dat nu geheel vrij van water en zand lag. Ik\nwerkte twee planken er af en bragt die met den vloed naar den wal. Ik\nliet den koevoet op het wrak achter tot den volgenden dag.\n9 Mei. Ik maakte met den koevoet eene opening naar het ruim, en vond\nverscheidene vaten, die ik los werkte, maar kon ze niet openbreken. Ook\nvond ik eene rol Engelsen lood, maar dit was te zwaar voor mij, om het\nop te heffen.\n10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Mei. Ik ging alle dagen naar het wrak, en haalde er\nvele stukken hout en planken af, en wel twee- of driehonderd [lb =\ngewicht] ijzer.\n15 Mei. Ik ging met twee kleine bijlen naar het wrak en beproefde of ik\ngeen stuk van het lood kon afkappen, door de eene bijl als eene wig te\ngebruiken, maar daar het lood anderhalf voet onder water lag, kon ik er\nniet genoeg bijkomen.\n16 Mei. Het had 's nachts hard gewaaid, en het wrak scheen door de\ngolven meer gebroken te zijn; maar ik was zoo lang in het bosch geweest\nom duiven te schieten, dat het getij mij dien dag belette aan boord te\ngaan.\n17 Mei. Ik zag eenige stukken van het wrak, die op een half uur\nafstands, door den wind op het strand waren gedreven; ik ging er heen,\nmaar vond dat het een stuk van den kop was, maar te zwaar voor mij om\nhet te huis te brengen.\n24 Mei. Alle dagen tot heden op het wrak gewerkt, en met zwaren arbeid\neenige dingen zoo verre losgewerkt met den koevoet, dat met hoog water\neenige vaten en twee matrozenkisten er uit spoelden, maar daar de wind\nvan het land blies, kwam er dien dag niets aan strand spoelen dan eenig\nbrandhout, en een okshoofd met eenig spek, doch het zeewater en het zand\nhadden het onbruikbaar gemaakt. Ik hield met dit werk aan tot den 15\nJunij, uitgezonderd den tijd dien ik dagelijks er af nam, om mijn\nvoedsel op te sporen, bij hoog water, ten einde altijd gereed te zijn\nals het afgeloopen was. Ik had thans rondhouten, planken en ijzerwerk\ngenoeg bijeen, om eene goede boot te bouwen, als ik maar geweten had,\nhoe; ook had ik op verschillende tijden bijkans honderd pond van de rol\nlood afgehaald.\n16 Junij. Naar den zeekant gaande vond ik eene groote schildpad; dit was\nde eerste dien ik gezien had, hetgeen echter niet uit hare schaarschheid\nvoortsproot, want ware ik aan de andere zijde van het eiland geweest,\ndan had ik ze bij honderden kunnen vinden, gelijk naderhand bleek, doch\nze dan misschien duur genoeg moeten betalen.\n17 Junij. Bragt ik door in het koken van de schildpad. Ik vond er zestig\neijeren in, en haar vleesch scheen mij het geurigste en lekkerste dat ik\nooit geproefd had; en geen wonder, daar ik sedert mijne komst op dit\nakelig eiland slechts geitenvleesch en vogels geproefd had.\n18 Junij. Het regende den geheelen dag en ik bleef binnen 's huis. Mij\ndacht, dat de regen koud nederviel, en ik was eenigzins huiverig,\nhetgeen ik wist dat op deze breedte ongewoon is.\n19 Junij. Ik was zeer ongesteld en huiverig, alsof het koud weder was.\n20 Junij. Den geheelen nacht niet geslapen, zware pijn in het hoofd en\nkoortsig.\n21 Junij. Zeer ziek, en doodsangst uitstaande over mijn jammerlijken\ntoestand, ziek te zijn zonder hulp. Ik bad tot God de eerste maal sedert\nden storm voor Hull; maar wist naauwelijks wat ik zeide, daar mijne\ndenkbeelden geheel verward waren.\n22 Junij. Een weinig beter, maar vreesselijk beangst.\n23 Junij. Weder erger, koud en huiverig met geweldige hoofdpijn.\n24 Junij. Veel beter.\n25 Junij. Zeer zware koorts, heet en koud, die zeven uren achtereen\nduurde, en van eenig zweet gevolgd werd.\n26 Junij. Ik gevoelde mij beter, en daar ik niets te eten had, nam ik\nmijn geweer, maar vond dat ik zeer zwak was. Ik schoot echter eene geit\nen bragt die met veel moeite te huis, braadde er een stukje van en at\ndat op. Ik had er gaarne wat vleeschnat van willen koken, maar ik had\ngeen pot.\n27 Junij. De koorts was weder zoo hevig, dat ik den geheelen dag liggen\nbleef, zonder te eten of te drinken. Ik stierf schier van dorst, maar\nwas te zwak om op te staan en water te halen. Ik bad weder tot God, maar\nwas bedwelmd van hoofd, en als dit niet het geval was, was ik toch zoo\nonwetend, dat ik niet wist wat ik zeggen zou, en niet anders riep dan:\n\"Heere, wees mij genadig, Heere, heb medelijden met mij!\" Ik geloof dat\nik twee of drie uren lang niets anders deed, tot ik bij het afgaan der\nkoorts in slaap viel, en eerst laat in den nacht wakker werd. Toen ik\nontwaakte bevond ik mij veel verkwikt, maar zwak en zeer dorstig; daar\nik echter geen water in mijn verblijf had, was ik verpligt tot den\nmorgenstond te wachten, en viel weder in slaap. In dezen slaap had ik\nden volgenden verschrikkelijken droom.\nIk verbeeldde mij dat ik op den grond zat, buiten mijn wal, waar ik na\nde aardbeving, gedurende den storm gezeten had, en dat ik een man, uit\neene groote zwarte wolk, in eene heldere vuurvlam zag nederdalen. Hij\nwas geheel en al zoo schitterend als eene vlam, zoo dat ik naauwelijks\nop hem zien kon; zijn gelaat was ontzaggelijker, dan woorden kunnen\nuitdrukken; toen hij met zijnen voet op den grond trad, dreunde deze,\neven als bij de aardbeving, en de geheele lucht scheen als met\nvuurvlammen bezet.\nToen hij op den grond stond trad hij naar mij toe, met een speer of\ndergelijk wapen in de hand, als om mij te dooden, en toen hij op eenigen\nafstand van mij op eene hoogte stond, sprak hij tot mij, of hoorde ik\neene zoo ontzaggelijke stem, welks vreesselijkheid niet te beschrijven\nis, tot mij zeggen: \"Dewijl al deze dingen u niet tot berouw verwekt\nhebben, zult gij sterven!\" Bij deze woorden meende ik, dat hij de speer,\ndie hij in de hand hield, ophief, als om mij te dooden.\nIk zal niet trachten den schrik te beschrijven, dien dit verschrikkelijk\ngezigt in mijne ziel verwekte. Zelfs toen ik droomde, verwonderde ik mij\nover mijn eigen angst; en evenmin kon ik den indruk beschrijven, dien\nmij bijbleef, toen ik wakker geworden zijnde, ontdekte dat het slechts\neen droom was.\nIk had, helaas, geenerlei godsdienstige kennis; die welke ik uit het\nonderrigt mijns vaders verkregen had, was door een omgang van acht jaren\nmet ruwe en losbandige zeelieden geheel uitgewischt geworden. Ik\nherinner mij niet, dat ik in al dien tijd eenige gedachte tot God\ngerigt, of over het gepaste mijner handelingen nagedacht had. Eene\nzekere dofheid van geest, zonder verlangen naar het goede, zonder\nbewustheid van het kwade, had mij geheel overmeesterd, en ik was een van\nde verhardste, meest gedachtenlooze en bedorvene wezens die men onder de\nmatrozen kan ontmoeten, die niet het minste gevoel der vreeze Gods had,\nin gevaren, of van dankbaarheid jegens hem, bij hunne redding uit\ndezelve.\nDit zal men te ligter gelooven, als ik bij het verhaal mijner vorige\nlotgevallen bijvoeg, dat ik bij al de reeks van ongelukken, die mij tot\nop dezen dag getroffen hadden, nimmer een enkel oogenblik gedacht had,\ndat hierin Gods hand was, of dat zij eene regtmatige straf waren voor\nmijn ongehoorzaam gedrag jegens mijn vader, of mijne latere\novertredingen, die zeer groot waren. Toen ik dien wanhopigen togt deed\nlangs de Afrikaansche kust, had ik nimmer een oogenblik gedacht wat er\nvan mij worden zou, of eenmaal van God gebeden mij te geleiden, of mij\nvoor het gevaar te behoeden, dat mij zoo blijkbaar omringde van\nverscheurende dieren en onbeschaafde volken; ik dacht volstrekt niet aan\nGods voorzienigheid, maar handelde als een dier, dat alleen door zucht\ntot zelfbehoud gedreven wordt.\nToen ik op zee door den Portugeschen kapitein gered en opgenomen, goed\nverzorgd, billijk en liefderijk behandeld werd; gevoelde ik niet de\nminste dankbaarheid jegens God; en toen ik op nieuw schipbreuk leed, en\nuit de kaken des doods gered, op dit eiland werd geworpen, was ik ver af\nvan eenige wroeging, of van dit als eene straf des Hemels te beschouwen;\nalleen zeide ik dikwijls tot mijzelven, dat ik een rampspoedig mensch en\ntot het ongeluk geboren was.\nWel is waar, toen ik hier het eerst aan land kwam, al mijne\nscheepsmakkers verdronken en mij alleen gered vond, geraakte ik in eene\nsoort van verrukking, die onder Gods genade, tot ware dankbaarheid had\nkunnen aangroeijen; maar het bleef bij eene gewone opwelling van\nvreugde. Ik was blijde dat ik gered was, zonder acht te geven op de\ngoedheid van de hand Gods, die mij bewaard en uitverkoren had om gered\nte worden, terwijl al de overigen vergaan waren, noch na te denken\nwaarom de Voorzienigheid zoo barmhartig jegens mij geweest was. Het\nbleef bij die vreugde, die zeelieden dikwijls hebben als zij behouden\nvan eene schipbreuk aan land komen; die zij verdrinken in een kom\npunsch, en die gelijk met dezelve eindigt.\nZelfs toen ik naderhand mijn toestand ernstig overwoog, hoe ik op dit\nakelig verblijf buiten allen menschelijken bijstand, buiten alle hoop op\nbevrijding mij bevond; was al mijne ne\u00earslagtigheid voorbij, zoodra ik\nde waarschijnlijkheid inzag, dat ik niet van honger zou sterven; en ik\nbegon zeer welgemoed aan den arbeid, die tot mijn behoud en voedsel\nnoodig was, en dacht er niet aan mijn toestand als eene straf des Hemels\nte beschouwen; deze gedachten kwamen zelden bij mij op.\nHet opschieten van het graan, gelijk ik in mijn journaal gemeld heb,\nmaakte in het eerst eenigen indruk op mij, en bragt mij tot ernstige\nnagedachten, zoo lang ik dacht, dat hierin iets wonderdadigs lag. Maar\nzoodra dit denkbeeld verdwenen was, ging ook die indruk, gelijk ik\nzeide, geheel verloren. Zelfs de aardbeving, dat verschrikkelijke\nnatuurverschijnsel, dat zoo onmiddellijk aan eene onzigtbare magt doet\ndenken, bragt, nadat de eerste schrik voorbij was, geen blijvenden\nindruk te weeg. Ik dacht evenmin aan God en zijne oordeelen, veel\nminder, dat mijn tegenwoordige toestand van zijne hand kwam, dan of ik\nmij in den voorspoedigsten staat mijns levens bevonden had.\nMaar nu ik ziek werd, en langzamerhand de dood met al zijne\nverschrikkingen, zich voor mijne oogen vertoonde; nu mijn moed door eene\nzware ongesteldheid vernietigd werd, en de natuur door de hevigheid der\nkoorts uitgeput was; begon mijn geweten, dat zoo lang gesluimerd had, te\nontwaken. Ik verweet mij mijn vorig leven, dat mij zoo blijkbaar de\nstraffende hand Gods op den hals had gehaald.\nDeze overwegingen kwelden mij van den tweeden of derden dag mijner\nziekte, en zoo wel de hevigheid der koorts als de strenge berispingen\nvan mijn geweten persten mij eenige biddende woorden af, schoon het geen\neigenlijk gebed, maar slechts klanken waren, door droefheid en angst mij\nontwrongen. Mijne gedachten waren verward, en de angst van in zulk een\nrampzaligen toestand te sterven deed mij beven; ik wist niet wat ik\nzeide, doch het waren uitroepen, als: \"Hemel, wat ben ik rampzalig; ik\nzal gewis van gebrek aan bijstand sterven als ik ziek worde! Wat zal er\nvan mij worden?\" De tranen stroomden uit mijne oogen, en ik bleef\neenigen tijd zonder te kunnen spreken.\nThans kwamen mij de goede raadgevingen mijns vaders in de gedachten, en\nvervolgens zijne voorspelling, die ik in het begin van mijne\ngeschiedenis vermeld heb, namelijk, dat als ik dezen dwazen stap deed,\nGod mij niet zegenen zoude, en ik nog lang berouw zou hebben, dat ik\nzijn raad in den wind geslagen had, als er niemand was om mij te helpen\ndien te herstellen. Nu, zeide ik luid, zijn mijns vaders woorden\nvervuld, Gods geregtigheid heeft mij bereikt, en niemand is er die mij\nhoort of helpt. Ik weigerde naar de stem der Voorzienigheid te hooren,\ndie mij in een toestand geplaatst had, waarin ik een gelukkig en kalm\nleven had kunnen leiden; maar ik wilde dit niet erkennen; noch deszelfs\nzegeningen van mijn vader leeren. Ik liet hen mijne dwaasheden\nbetreuren, en thans moet ik derzelver gevolgen beweenen. Ik weigerde de\nhulp mijner verwanten, die mij gemakkelijk door de wereld hadden kunnen\nhelpen, en nu moet ik moeijelijkheden overwinnen, waartegen menschelijke\nkracht niet opgewassen is, zonder hulp, zonder bijstand, zonder raad,\nzonder troost. Hier riep ik uit: \"Heere, wees mij ter hulpe, want mijn\njammer is groot!\" Dit was, mag ik zeggen, het eerste gebed, dat sedert\njaren over mijne lippen kwam.--Doch ik keer tot mijn journaal terug.\n28 Junij. Een weinig verfrischt door den slaap, en geheel zonder koorts\nstond ik op; en schoon de angst en schrik van mijn droom nog zeer groot\nwaren, bedacht ik toch, dat ik zeker morgen weder een aanval van de\nkoorts zou hebben, en het nu de tijd was mij eenige verkwikking tegen\ndien tijd te bezorgen. Het eerste wat ik deed was eene groote\nkelderflesch vol met water te vullen en op de tafel te zetten, zoo dat\nik die uit mijn bed bereiken kon, en om de koude van het water weg te\nnemen, goot ik er ongeveer een kwart pint rum bij; daarop nam ik een\nstuk geitenvleesch en braadde dit, maar ik kon er slechts weinig van\neten. Ik ging naar buiten, maar was zeer zwak en ne\u00earslagtig en kon\nnaauwelijks mijn geweer dragen, zonder hetwelk ik nimmer uitging. Ik\nliep dus niet ver, maar ging op eene hoogte zitten, en zag naar de zee,\ndie kalm en effen voor mij lag. Terwijl ik hier zat kwamen de volgende\ndenkbeelden bij mij op. Wat is deze aarde en zee waarvan ik zoo veel\ngezien heb? Vanwaar is zij ontstaan? En wat ben ik en alle schepselen,\nmenschen en beesten? Vanwaar zijn zij gekomen? Ongetwijfeld zijn zij het\nwerk van die Magt, die de aarde en het water, de lucht en den hemel\nheeft gemaakt, en wie is dat? Natuurlijk was het antwoord: het is God,\ndie dit alles gemaakt heeft. Maar dan is het ook zeker, dat als God dit\nalles gemaakt heeft, Hij het ook bestiert en leidt, want wie alles kan\nmaken, kan het ook regelen en bestieren. En dan gebeurt er ook niets in\nden geheelen omkring zijner werken, zonder dat hij het weet of gebiedt.\nEn dan weet Hij ook dat ik hier, in dezen akeligen toestand ben, en zoo\nniets buiten zijn wil geschiedt, dan was het zijn wil, dat mij dit\ngebeuren zou.\nNiets bood zich aan mijn geest aan, dat een dezer gevolgtrekkingen\nlogenstrafte, en dus bleef ik overtuigd, dat het Gods wil was, dat mij\ndit alles zou overkomen; dat ik door zijne leiding in dezen ellendigen\ntoestand was gebragt; daar Hij alleen alles in de wereld beschikt.\nNu volgde dadelijk de vraag: Waarom heeft God mij aldus behandeld? Wat\nheb ik gedaan, dat mij dit treft?\nMijn geweten kwam dadelijk op tegen deze vraag, als ware zij eene\nlastering, en ik meende eene inwendige stem te hooren, die mij zeide:\n\"Rampzalige, vraagt gij wat gij gedaan hebt, Zie terug op uw vorig\nleven, en vraag u zelven wat gij niet gedaan hebt. Vraag waarom gij niet\nreeds voor lang vernietigd zijt? Waarom zijt gij niet op de reede van\nYarmouth verdronken? gedood in het gevecht met den kaper van Sal\u00e9? door\nde wilde dieren op de Afrikaansche kust verscheurd? of hier verdronken,\ntoen al het scheepsvolk, buiten u, verging? Vraagt gij nog, wat gij\ngedaan hebt?\"\nDeze overwegingen verbijsterden mij geheel en al, en ik kon mij zelven\ngeen woord antwoorden, maar ging treurig en peinzende naar huis, en over\nden muur, met oogmerk te bed te gaan; maar mijn hoofd was vol, ik had\ngeen lust tot slapen; dus ging ik op mijn stoel zitten en stak mijne\nlamp op, want het begon donker te worden. Daar ik nu zeer bevreesd was\nvoor de terugkomst van de koorts, schoot het mij in de gedachten, dat\nmen in Brazili\u00eb schier geene andere geneesmiddelen dan tabak gebruikt,\nen ik had eene rol tabak in een der kisten, die goed droog en rijp was,\nen eene die groen en niet geheel rijp was.\nOngetwijfeld gaf de Hemel mij dit in, want in deze kist vond ik een\ngeneesmiddel voor de ziel zoo wel als voor het ligchaam. Ik opende de\nkist en vond wat ik zocht, namelijk den tabak, en daar de weinige\nboeken, die ik gered had, daar ook bij lagen, nam ik een van de bijbels,\nwaarvan ik vroeger gesproken heb, en die ik tot hiertoe tijd noch lust\ngehad had, in te zien, en legde dezen met den tabak op de tafel.\nHoe ik den tabak gebruiken zou tegen mijne ziekte, wist ik niet, en\nevenmin of hij goed voor mij was of niet; maar ik besloot dien op\nverschillende wijzen te gebruiken, ten einde het een of het ander mij\nhelpen zou. Eerst nam ik een stuk en kaauwde dit, hetgeen mij eenigzins\nbedwelmde, daar de tabak zwaar en ik er niet zeer aan gewoon was; daarop\nnam ik eenigen en weekte dien een paar uren in rum, en besloot daar wat\nvan te nemen als ik slapen ging, eindelijk brandde ik wat op kolen en\nhield mijn neus daarover, zoo lang ik het uithouden kon.\nMiddelerwijl sloeg ik den bijbel open en trachtte te lezen, maar mijn\nhoofd was hiervoor thans te veel bedwelmd door den tabak, echter toen ik\nhet boek liet openvallen, waren de eerste woorden daar mijn oog op viel,\ndeze: \"Roep mij aan in den dag der benaauwing, en ik zal u redden en gij\nzult mijn naam prijzen.\" Deze woorden waren zeer gepast op mijnen\ntoestand, en maakten toen indruk op mij, schoon zoo sterk niet als\nnaderhand; want het woord bevrijding had voor mij geen zin als het ware;\ndit scheen mij zoo onwaarschijnlijk, zoo onmogelijk, dat ik begon te\nzeggen even als de kinderen Isra\u00ebls, toen hun vleesch beloofd was:\nvanwaar zou dit komen? En daar vele jaren geenerlei hoop zich opdeed,\nkwam mij dit dikwijls in de gedachten.\nHet werd nu laat, en de tabak had, gelijk ik zeide, mijn hoofd zoo\nbedwelmd, dat ik slaperig werd, ik liet dan mijne lamp branden, om te\nkunnen zien als ik des nachts wat noodig mogt hebben, en ging naar bed.\nMaar voor ik mij nederlegde, deed ik wat ik nog nimmer had gedaan, ik\nviel op mijne knie\u00ebn, en bad God zijne belofte gestand te doen, en mij\nte bevrijden als ik Hem aanriep in den dag der benaauwing. Na dit\nafgebroken en onvolkomen gebed dronk ik den rum, waarin ik den tabak had\ngeweekt, die zoo scherp en sterk van den tabak was, dat ik hem\nnaauwelijks kon inzwelgen. Onmiddellijk daarop ging ik naar bed, en vond\ndat de rum mij geweldig naar het hoofd steeg, maar ik viel in een diepen\nslaap en werd niet weder wakker voor het, naar de zon te zien, drie uren\nin den namiddag van den volgenden dag was; ja, ik geloof zelfs, dat ik\nnog een dag en een nacht langer sliep, want anders weet ik niet hoe ik\nuit mijne rekening een dag had kunnen verliezen, gelijk het eenige\njaren later bleek, dat ik gedaan had, want had ik een verkeerd merk op\nmijn almanak gezet, dan zou ik meer dagen verloren hebben.\nDit zij zoo het wil, toen ik wakker werd was ik uiterst verkwikt, en\nmijn geest vlug en opgeruimd. Toen ik opstond was ik veel beter dan den\nvorigen dag en mijne maag ook, want ik had honger en om kort te gaan ik\nhad den volgenden dag geene koorts, maar bleef aan de beterhand. Dit was\nden 29en.\nDen 30en was het mijn vrije dag, en ik ging met mijn geweer uit, maar\nhad geen lust om ver te loopen. Ik schoot een paar zeevogels, naar\nganzen gelijkende, maar had weinig lust er van te proeven, dus at ik\neenige schildpadeijeren, die zeer goed waren. Dezen avond nam ik weder\ndat geneesmiddel in, dat naar ik meende mij den vorigen keer goed gedaan\nhad, namelijk tabak in rum gelegd, maar minder sterk dan de vorige reis,\nook kaauwde of rookte ik ze niet. Echter was ik den volgenden dag, den\n1 Julij, zoo goed niet als ik gehoopt had, want ik had eene koortsige\nhuivering, schoon niet veel.\n2 Julij. Ik gebruikte het geneesmiddel weder op alle drie de wijzen, en\nbedwelmde mij gelijk de eerste reis, en verdubbelde de hoeveelheid\ndrank.\n3 Julij. Ik was de koorts voor goed kwijt, schoon ik eerst verscheidene\nweken later mijne vorige krachten terug ontving. Gedurende mijne\nherstelling vestigden mijne gedachten zich dikwijls op de woorden der H.\nSchrift: _Ik zal u bevrijden_, en de onmogelijkheid mijner bevrijding\ndrukte mij te zeer ter neder, om die te durven verwachten. Maar, terwijl\nik mij met deze gedachten pijnigde, schoot het mij te binnen, dat ik mij\nzoo zeer kwelde met het denkbeeld mijner bevrijding van dit eiland, dat\nik geheel vergat, dat ik als door een wonder van mijne ziekte bevrijd\nwas geworden, uit den jammerlijksten toestand, en die mij zoo veel\nschrik had ingeboezemd. Welke aandacht had ik daarop geslagen? Hoe had\nik mij hierin gedragen? God had mij bevrijd, maar ik had Hem niet\nverheerlijkt, dat is te zeggen, ik had mijne bevrijding niet aan Hem\nalleen toegeschreven, en Hem daarvoor gedankt. Dit trof mij tot in de\nziel, en dadelijk knielde ik neder, en dankte God met luider stem voor\nmijne herstelling uit mijne ziekte.\n4 Julij. In den ochtend nam ik den bijbel op, en met het Nieuwe\nTestament beginnende, zette ik mij ernstig aan het lezen, en stelde mij\nten taak er elken morgen en avond eene poos in te lezen, zonder mij aan\neen vast getal hoofdstukken te binden, maar zoo lang als mij gepast\nscheen. Niet lang nadat ik hieraan begonnen was, vond ik mijn hart diep\nter nedergeslagen over de ongeregtigheden van mijn vroeger leven. De\nindruk van mijn droom werd weder levendig, en de woorden: \"Al deze\ndingen hebben u niet tot berouw kunnen brengen,\" stonden mij ernstig\nvoor den geest. Ik smeekte God vurig mij tot berouw te stemmen, toen ik\nop denzelfden dag op de woorden stiet: \"Hij is tot een Vorst en\nMiddellaar verheven, om berouw en verzoening aan te brengen.\" Ik legde\nhet boek neder, en verhief zoo wel mijn hart als mijne handen ten Hemel,\nterwijl ik in vervoering uitriep: \"o, Jezus, zoon van David; verheven\nVorst en Middellaar, wil mij berouw schenken.\"\nDit was, naar ik zeggen kan, de eerste maal in mijn geheele leven dat\nik, in den waren zin des woords, bad, want thans bad ik met een waar\nbesef van mijn toestand, en met eene ware Christelijke hoop, en van dien\ntijd af, mag ik zeggen, begon ik te hopen dat God mij verhooren zou.\nNu begon ik de woorden: \"Roep mij aan en ik zal u verlossen, in een\ngeheel anderen zin dan vroeger op te vatten, want ik had geenerlei\ndenkbeeld van eenige andere bevrijding, dan die uit mijne gevangenschap;\nwant schoon ik hier werkelijk ruimte genoeg had, was dit eiland toch\nvoor mij eene gevangenis, in den ongunstigsten zin des woords; maar\nthans begon ik dit op eene andere wijze op te vatten. Nu zag ik met zulk\neen afschuw op mijn vorig leven terug, en kwamen mijne zonden mij zoo\nvreesselijk voor, dat mijne ziel van God alleen bevrijding smeekte van\nden last der schuld, die mij geheel ter neder drukte. Mijn eenzaam leven\nwas niets, hierbij vergeleken, ik dacht er zelfs niet aan, om bevrijding\ndaarvan te smeeken.\" Ik zeg dit hier, om mijnen lezers te bewijzen, dat\nzoo zij ooit een regt inzigt van de waarheid verkrijgen, zij de\nbevrijding der zonde een veel grooter zegen zullen bevinden, dan de\nbevrijding van ellenden. Doch ik keer terug tot mijn journaal.\nMijn toestand, ofschoon nog altijd mijne levenswijze rampzalig was,\nbegon mij thans dragelijker te worden; en mijne gedachten werden door\nhet bestendig lezen der H. Schrift en aanhoudend gebed, tot zaken van\nhoogeren aard geleid. Ik bezat thans eene groote mate van vertroosting,\ndie ik voorheen niet kende. Bovendien trachtte ik, toen mijne gezondheid\nen krachten terugkeerden, mij allerlei noodwendigheden te verschaffen,\nen zoo geregeld te leven als ik kon. Van den 4 tot 14 Julij was ik\nhoofdzakelijk aan het doen van korte wandelingen, met mijn geweer in de\nhand, ge\u00ebvenredigd naar mijn zwakken toestand. Het geneesmiddel, dat ik\ngebruikt had, was nieuw, en nimmer misschien te voren had het iemand van\nde koorts verlost, ook zou ik het niet gaarne iemand aanbevelen, want\nschoon het mij van de koorts bevrijdde, bleef ik nog lang zwak, en had\ndikwijls zenuwachtige trekkingen in mijne leden gedurende eene poos. Ik\nleerde hierbij tevens, dat niets mij nadeeliger was dan in het\nregenachtig saizoen uit te gaan, vooral bij die regens, die met zware\nstormen gepaard gingen; als er regen in het drooge jaargetij viel, was\ner altijd zware storm bij.\nIk was nu meer dan tien maanden op dit ongelukkig eiland geweest; alle\nvooruitzigt op bevrijding uit mijn toestand scheen geheel verdwenen; en\nik geloofde vast, dat nimmer dit land vroeger door eens menschen voet\nbetreden was geworden. Mijne woning was thans geheel naar mijn zin in\norde, en ik verlangde zeer het eiland geheel en al te doorzoeken, en te\nzien wat het opleverde, buiten hetgeen ik reeds kende.\nDen 15 Julij begon ik mijne ontdekkingsreis. Ik ging eerst langs de\nkreek, waarin ik, gelijk ik gezegd heb, mijne vlotten aan wal had\ngebragt. Na omtrent een half uur gegaan te zijn, vond ik dat het getij\nniet hooger liep, en dat het slechts een beekje van loopend water, zeer\nfrisch en goed, was; doch daar het thans het drooge saizoen was, was er\nhier en daar naauwelijks water in, althans niet genoeg om het te doen\nvloeijen. Aan de banken van deze beek vond ik verscheidene zeer fraaije,\neffene vlakten en met gras bedekt, en waar de grond opliep, en die door\nhet water waarschijnlijk nimmer overstroomd werd, vond ik veel tabak,\ndie tot een zwaren, sterken stengel opschoot. Ook verscheidene andere\nheesters die ik niet kende, en misschien zeer goede eigenschappen\nhadden, doch dit was mij onbekend. Ik zocht naar de cassave, waarvan de\nIndianen overal hun brood bereiden, maar vond deze niet. Ik zag groote\nalo\u00eb's, doch die waren mij toen onbekend; ook veel suikerriet, doch\nwild, bij gebrek aan kweeking. Ik stelde mij hiermede voor 's hands\ntevreden, en keerde terug, peinzende over de middelen, om de deugd of\nhet schadelijke van vruchten of planten, die ik vinden mogt, te\nontdekken; maar kon hierop niets vinden, want ik had in Brazili\u00eb hierop\nzoo weinig acht geslagen, dat ik weinig kennis van de planten had,\nalthans geene die mij thans te stade kwam.\nDen volgenden dag, den 16den, ging ik denzelfden weg, doch iets verder\ndan den vorigen dag. Ik vond dat de beek en de weiden hier eindigden, en\nhet land boschachtiger werd dan vroeger. Hier vond ik verschillende\nvruchten, in het bijzonder meloenen, in menigte op den grond liggen, en\ndruiven aan de takken. De wijngaarden hadden zich over de takken\ngeslingerd en de trossen waren thans in volle rijpheid. Dit was eene\naangename ontdekking, die mij zeer verheugde, doch de ondervinding had\nmij geleerd er matig van te eten, want ik herinnerde mij, dat ik tijdens\nmijn verblijf in Barbarije, er vele Engelsche slaven had zien sterven\naan buikloop en koortsen, door te veel druiven te eten. Ik bedacht\nechter een uitmuntend gebruik van deze druiven, namelijk ze te droogen,\nen als rozijnen te gebruiken, welke ik meende, gelijk ook inderdaad het\ngeval was, dat even heilzaam en aangenaam zouden zijn, als er geene\ndruiven waren.\nIk bragt den geheelen avond daar door, en ging niet naar mijne woning\nterug om te slapen, en dit was, mag ik zeggen, de eerste maal dat ik\nbuiten 's huis sliep. Ik ging des avonds weder als de eerste maal op een\nboom, waar ik zeer goed sliep, en den volgenden morgen ging ik weder op\nontdekking uit, en legde bijkans vier (Eng.) mijlen af, gelijk ik naar\nde lengte van het dal rekenen mag. Ik hield regt noordwaarts aan, met\neene reeks van heuvelen ten zuiden en noorden van mij.\nAan het einde van dezen togt kwam ik aan eene opene vlakte, waar het\nland naar het westen scheen af te dalen; terwijl een beekje van zoet\nwater, dat uit de zijde van een heuvel naast mij ontsproot, den anderen\nweg, dat is vlak oostwaarts liep, en het land scheen zoo frisch, zoo\nbloeijend, zoo groen, daar alles in het lentegroen stond, dat het naar\neen beplanten lusttuin geleek.\nIk daalde een weinig naar de zijde van die bekoorlijke vallei af, en\noverzag het met een heimelijk genoegen (schoon er ook treurige\ndenkbeelden bij mij opwelden) als ik bedacht, dat dit alles mijn\neigendom was; dat ik buiten alle tegenspraak koning en heer van dit\ngeheele land was, en regt op deszelfs bezit had, en zoo ik het slechts\nkon overbrengen, het even goed erfelijk zou bezitten, als eenig edelman\nzijne heerlijkheid. Ik zag hier eene menigte kokos-, oranje-, limoen- en\ncitroenboomen, doch allen wild, en althans tegenwoordig, weinig vrucht\ndragende. De groene limmetjes, die ik bijeenzamelde, waren echter niet\nalleen lekker maar ook zeer gezond, en naderhand mengde ik hun sap met\nwater, waardoor het zeer gezond, koel en verfrisschend was. Ik vond hier\nwerk genoeg en besloot een voorraad aan te leggen van druiven, zoo wel\nals van limmetjes en limoenen, om mij te voorzien voor het regenachtig\njaargetij, hetwelk ik wist dat naderde.\nTe dien tijd legde ik hier een grooten hoop druiven, en op eene andere\nplaats een kleineren, en een grooten voorraad limmetjes op eene derde,\nen trok met eenigen van elk naar huis, en besloot met een mand of zak\nterug te keeren, om het overige naar huis te brengen. Ik kwam dus te\nhuis, na drie dagen uit geweest te zijn, maar voor dien tijd waren de\ndruiven, die overrijp waren, gebroken, en dus nergens goed voor; doch de\nlimmetjes waren zeer goed, hoewel er weinig waren.\nDen volgenden dag den 19den, ging ik terug met twee zakken, die ik\ngemaakt had, om mijn oogst te huis te halen; maar ik stond geheel\nverbaasd, toen ik bij mijne druiven komende, die geheel verstrooid,\nvertrapt, en ginds en herwaarts gesleept, en grootendeels opgegeten\nvond. Ik besloot hieruit, dat daar ergens wilde dieren waren, die dezen\nroof gepleegd hadden, schoon ik niet wist welke.\nDaar ik vond dat ik ze niet op hoopen leggen kon, en niet in een zak\nwegdragen, daar ze hierbij vertrapt worden of aan stukken gaan zouden,\nsloeg ik een anderen weg in; want ik verzamelde eene menigte druiven, en\nhing die aan de uiteinden der takken, om ze in de zon te laten droogen;\nen van de limmetjes en limoenen nam ik zoo veel mede als ik dragen kon.\nToen ik van deze reis te huis kwam, herdacht ik met veel genoegen, de\nvruchtbaarheid van dit dal en deszelfs aangename ligging, de veiligheid\nvoor stormen aan die zijde van het water en van het bosch; en ik begreep\nthans dat ik eene plek tot mijn verblijf had uitgekozen, die verreweg de\nslechtste van het geheele eiland was. Over het geheel begon ik aan eene\nverplaatsing van mijne woning te denken, en naar eene plek te zoeken,\neven veilig als waar ik thans was, zoo mogelijk in dat aangename,\nvruchtbare gedeelte des eilands.\nDit was langen tijd een geliefkoosd denkbeeld van mij, uithoofde van de\naangenaamheid dezer streek; maar toen ik het nader overwoog, bedacht ik\ndat ik thans aan de zeekust was, waar het althans mogelijk was, dat iets\ntot mijn voordeel zou kunnen gebeuren, en hetzelfde onheil dat mij\nhierheen had gebragt, eenige andere ongelukkigen daar zou kunnen\nbrengen. En schoon het naauwelijks mogelijk was dat het ooit zou\ngebeuren, zou ik echter door mij tusschen de heuvels en boschaadjen in\nhet midden des eilands op te sluiten, mijne gevangenschap verlengen, en\neene zoodanige gebeurtenis niet alleen onwaarschijnlijk, maar zelfs\nonmogelijk maken. Ik begreep dus in geen geval te moeten verhuizen. Om\nechter een middelweg te kiezen, begreep ik hier eene soort van lusthuis\naan te leggen, en dit te omringen met eene dubbele heining, zoo sterk en\nhoog als ik die maken kon, met palen versterkt en met takken en loof\nopgevuld. Hier sliep ik veilig, soms twee of drie nachten achtereen,\nterwijl ik er altoos met eene ladder overklom, zoodat ik thans begreep\nmijne buitenplaats en mijn woonhuis aan de zeekust te hebben. Dit werk\nhield mij tot in het begin van Augustus bezig.\nIk had pas mijne heining voltooid, toen het regensaizoen inviel, en mij\nin mijn eerste woning deed blijven, want schoon ik elders ook eene tent\nvan een zeil gemaakt, en dit zeer goed uitgespannen had, was ik hier\ntoch niet door een heuvel voor de stormen beschut, en had geen kelder\nachter mij, waarin ik bij zware slagregens de vlugt kon nemen.\nTegen het begin van Augustus had ik, gelijk ik zeide, mijn lusthuis\nvoltooid, en had het genoegen het te bewonen. Den 3 Augustus vond ik dat\nde druiven, die ik opgehangen had, volkomen gedroogd door de zon en zeer\ngoede rozijnen geworden waren. Ik begon ze dus af te nemen en te goeder\nure, want de regen zou ze anders spoedig bedorven en mij van het beste\ndeel van mijn wintervoorraad beroofd hebben; want ik had meer dan\ntweehonderd trossen, die ik naauwelijks had afgenomen of het begon te\nregenen, en van den 14 Augustus tot het midden van October, had ik elken\ndag meer of minder regen; somtijds zoo zwaar, dat ik verscheidene dagen\nmijn kelder niet verlaten kon.\nIn dien tijd werd ik verrast met de vermeerdering van mijn huisgezin. Ik\nhad veel spijt gehad van een mijner katten, die weggeloopen, en hier of\ndaar naar ik dacht gestorven zou zijn; maar op zekeren dag kwam zij met\ndrie jongen te huis. Dit bevreemdde mij te meer omdat, hoewel ik een\nwilde kat geschoten had, deze eene geheel andere soort dan onze\nEuropesche katten was; de jonge katjes waren echter in alles aan onze\nhuiskatten gelijk. Van deze drie katten kwam echter naderhand zulk eene\ntalrijke nakomelingschap, dat deze eene ware plaag voor mij werd, en ik\ngenoodzaakt was ze dood te schieten, en zoo ver mogelijk van huis te\njagen.\nVan den 14 tot den 26 Augustus regende het onophoudelijk, zoodat ik niet\nkon uitgaan; want ik was thans zeer bezorgd niet nat te worden. Terwijl\nik aldus opgesloten was, werd mijn voedsel schraal; doch tweemaal waagde\nik het buiten te gaan, en den eersten dag doodde ik eene geit, en den\ntweeden (den 26) vond ik een zeer groote schildpad, dat voor mij eene\nware lekkernij was. Mijne maaltijden waren thans de volgende. Ik at een\ntros rozijnen voor mijn ontbijt, een stuk gebraden geiten- of\nschildpadvleesch (want ik had ongelukkig geen vaatwerk om in te koken of\nte stoven) voor mijn middagmaal, en twee of drie schildpadeijeren\nmaakten mijn avondmaal uit.\nIn dien tijd werkte ik alle dagen twee of drie uren aan het verwijden\nvan mijn kelder, en delfde die langzamerhand van eene zijde uit, tot ik\naan de buitenzijde van den heuvel kwam, en daar een uitgang maakte, die\nbuiten mijn heining of muur uitkwam, en waardoor ik in en uit kon gaan.\nDoch zoo geheel open te leggen beviel mij maar half, want terwijl ik te\nvoren gezorgd had, geheel afgesloten te zijn, lag ik thans eenigzins\nopen, hoewel ik geen levend wezen gezien had, waarvoor ik behoefde te\nvreezen, want het grootste dier dat ik op het eiland had bespeurd was\neene geit.\nDen 30 September. Het was thans de ongelukkige verjaardag van mijne\naankomst. Ik telde de kerven op mijn staak, en vond dat ik driehonderd\nvijfenzestig dagen aan land was geweest. Ik beschouwde dezen dag als een\nfeestdag, en bragt dien door in godsdienstige overdenkingen. Ik wierp\nmij met de opregtste nederigheid neder, beleed mijne zonden aan God, en\nerkende de regtvaardigheid zijner oordeelen jegens mij, en smeekte hem\nom genade door Jezus Christus; en na den geheelen dag tot na den\nondergang der zon gevast te hebben, at ik eene beschuit en een tros\nrozijnen, ging naar bed en besloot den dag, gelijk ik dien begonnen had,\nmet het gebed. Ik had al dien tijd geen zondag gehouden, want daar ik in\nden beginne geenszins godsdienstig gestemd was, had ik vergeten den\nzevenden dag door eene langere kerf op te teekenen, zoo dat ik niet wist\nwelke dag het was. Nu ik echter vond, dat ik daar een jaar geweest was,\nverdeelde ik dit in weken en rekende elken zevenden dag voor een zondag;\nschoon ik bij het einde mijner rekening vond, dat ik een paar dagen\nverloren had.\nKort daarop begon de inkt mij te ontbreken, en ik gebruikte die dus meer\nspaarzaam en alleen om het merkwaardigste wat mij gebeurde op te\nteekenen, zonder een journaal te blijven houden.\nIk leerde thans den tijd van het natte en drooge saizoen kennen, en\ntrachtte mij voor derzelver komst van de vereischte noodwendigheden te\nvoorzien. De ondervinding, die ik verkreeg, kwam mij echter soms duur te\nstaan, vooral bij de navolgende gelegenheid, die de treurigste\nondervinding was die ik opdeed.\nIk heb reeds gezegd, dat ik de weinige airen graan en rijst, die zoo\nverrassend, en naar ik eerst dacht, uit zichzelven opgeschoten waren,\nhad bewaard, en ik geloof dat er ongeveer dertig rijst- en twintig\ngraanhalmen waren, en nu achtte ik het, na het regenachtig jaargetij, de\ngeschikte tijd dit te zaaijen. Ik spitte dus eene plek grond om, zoo\ngoed ik kon, met mijne houten spade, en deelde die in twee deelen af om\nmijn graan te zaaijen; maar terwijl ik dit deed bedacht ik toevallig,\ndat ik beter zou doen het niet alles te gelijk te zaaijen, omdat ik niet\nwist of het de geschikte tijd er toe was; dus zaaide ik ongeveer twee\nderde gedeelten, en hield van ieder eene hand vol over. Het bleek\nnaderhand, dat het zeer gelukkig was dat ik dit gedaan had, want van al\nwat ik gezaaid had, schoot thans niets op, zoo lang de thans volgende\ndrooge maanden duurden; doch toen het natte jaargetijde weder gekomen\nwas, schoot het op, alsof het pas gezaaid was geworden. Toen ik vond\ndat mijn eerste zaaisel niet opschoot, schreef ik dit natuurlijk aan de\ndroogte toe, en zocht eene vochtiger plek grond om het te beproeven; en\nspitte eene plek om nabij mijn nieuw lustverblijf. Hier zaaide ik het\noverige van mijn zaad in Februarij, kort voor de herfstevening, en daar\ndit de regenachtige maanden Maart en April had, om het te bewateren,\nschoot het welig op en leverde een goeden oogst, doch daar ik niet alles\nhad durven zaaijen wat ik had, was dit toch nog slechts weinig. Deze\nproefneming had mij thans echter geleerd hoe te handelen; ik wist thans\nwanneer ik zaaijen moest, en dat ik jaarlijks tweemaal in plaats van\neens zou kunnen oogsten.\nTerwijl dit koorn groeide deed ik eene kleine ontdekking, die mij\nnaderhand van nut was. Zoodra de regens over waren en het weder\nbestendig begon te worden, hetgeen tegen November was, ging ik\nlandwaarts in, mijn buitenplaats een bezoek geven, en vond, ofschoon ik\ner in verscheidene maanden niet geweest was, alles juist zoo als ik het\nverlaten had. De dubbele heining was niet alleen stevig en gaaf, maar de\nstaken, die ik van eenige boomen daar in den omtrek afgesneden had,\nwaren allen met lange takken uitgeschoten, even als de wilgen, het\neerste jaar nadat zij geknot zijn. Ik kon niet zeggen welke boom het\nwas, waarvan deze staken gekapt waren; maar het was mij zeer aangenaam\nze zoo te zien uitwassen. Ik leidde ze en gaf ze eene zoo gelijke\nrigting in het groeijen als mogelijk was, en het is naauwelijks te\ngelooven hoe schoon zij in drie jaren tijds opgroeiden, zoodat, ofschoon\nde heining een cirkel van ongeveer vijfentwintig ellen in doorsnede\nmaakte, deze boomen zoo veel schaduw gaven, dat ik er in het drooge\njaargetij volkomen door beschut werd.\nDit deed mij besluiten nog eenige staken te kappen, en van deze in een\nhalven cirkel een heining te maken rondom mijn oud verblijf, gelijk ik\ndeed, en ik plaatste de takken in eene dubbele rij op ongeveer acht\nellen afstands van mijn eerste heining; zij groeiden welig op, en waren\neerst eene fraaije beschutting en naderhand zelfs eene verdediging voor\nmijne woning, gelijk ik later verhalen zal.\nIk vond thans dat de jaargetijden hier niet, als in Europa, in zomer en\nwinter, maar in het regenachtige en drooge jaargetij verdeeld moesten\nworden; als volgt: van half Februarij tot half April regen; daar de zon\nalsdan in of bij de evennachtslijn was; van half April tot half Augustus\ndroogte, zijnde de zon dan benoorden de linie; van half Augustus tot\nhalf October regen; keerende de zon alsdan terug, en van half October\ntot half Februarij regen, zijnde de zon dan bezuiden de linie.\nHet regensaizoen duurde wat langer of korter naar gelang van den wind,\ndoch over het algemeen was het gelijk ik hierboven gemeld heb. Nadat de\nondervinding mij geleerd had hoe schadelijk het was mij aan den regen\nbloot te stellen, zorgde ik mij vooraf van levensmiddelen te voorzien,\nten einde niet te behoeven uit te gaan, en ik bleef zoo veel mogelijk\nbinnen in de regenmaanden. Ik had alsdan veel en gepast werk; want ik\nhad dan de beste gelegenheid mij dingen aan te schaffen, die niet dan\ndoor handenarbeid en aanhoudende vlijt konden gelukken; ik beproefde bij\nvoorbeeld dikwijls eene mand te vlechten; maar al de takken, die ik\nhiertoe vinden kon, waren zoo broos, dat zij mij niet dienen konden.\nThans was het mij een groot voordeel, dat ik als een jongen dikwijls bij\neen mandemaker, die digt bij mijn vader woonde, had staan te zien naar\nzijn werk, en gelijk jongens zijn, had ik dan dikwijls gedienstig\ngeweest om den man te helpen; en hierdoor wist ik zooveel van het\nmandemaken, dat mij slechts de grondstoffen ontbraken. Toen ik nu\nbedacht dat de takken van de boomen, waarvan ik mijne staken, die\nuitgeschoten waren, had gekapt, misschien buigzaam waren, als het\nwilgenrijs, besloot ik dit te beproeven. Den volgenden dag ging ik dus\nnaar mijne buitenplaats, en na eenig rijs afgesneden te hebben, vond ik\nhet zoo lenig als ik wenschen kon; dus ging ik er den volgenden dag met\neene bijl naar toe en kapte eene groote menigte. Deze zette ik binnen\nmijne heining overeind om te droogen, en bragt ze toen ze goed waren in\nmijn kelder. In de eerstvolgende regenmaanden hield ik mij nu bezig met\neen groote menigte manden te vlechten, om aarde in weg te dragen, of om\nhet een en ander in te bewaren; en hoewel ik ze niet zeer fraai maakte,\nwaren zij mij echter bij uitstek van dienst, en ik zorgde dus er altijd\nvan voorzien te zijn, en toen zij oud werden, maakte ik nieuwe; vooral\nsterke diepe manden, om mijn koorn in te bewaren, in plaats van in\nzakken, als ik er meer van zou verkrijgen.\nNa deze moeijelijkheid overwonnen te hebben, schoon ik er een\nontzettenden tijd aan besteedde, trachtte ik zoo mogelijk in nog twee\nbehoeften te voorzien. Ik had niets om vloeistoffen in te bewaren, dan\neen paar vaatjes, die bijkans vol rum waren, en eenige flesschen,\nsommigen gewone, anderen vierkante kelderflesschen. Ik had zelfs geen\npot om iets in te koken, behalve een grooten ketel, dien ik uit het\nschip gered had, maar die te zwaar was voor het gebruik, dat ik er van\nmaken wilde, namelijk om vleesch en soep in te koken. Het tweede, dat ik\ngaarne wenschte, was eene tabakspijp; maar het was mij onmogelijk die te\nmaken; eindelijk echter vond ik iets uit om die te vervangen. Den\ngeheelen zomer hield ik mij voorts bezig met dit mandenmaken en met het\nplanten van mijne tweede rij staken, toen eene andere bezigheid mij meer\ntijd wegnam, dan ik dacht.\nIk heb reeds gezegd, dat ik zeer verlangde het geheele eiland te zien,\nen dat ik langs de beek getrokken was en zoo verder tot waar ik mijn\nbuitenverblijf aanlegde; en vanwaar ik de zee had kunnen zien, aan de\nandere zijde van het eiland. Ik besloot nu aan dien kant dwars door te\nsteken tot aan den zeekant; dus nam ik mijn geweer, eene bijl en mijn\nhond mede, en een grooter hoeveelheid kruid en kogels dan gewoonlijk,\nmet een paar beschuiten en een tros rozijnen in mijn zak, en begon mijne\nreis. Toen ik het dal doorkwam, waar mijn lusthuis stond, zag ik de zee\nwestwaarts, en daar het een zeer heldere dag was, ontdekte ik duidelijk\nland, hetzij een eiland of vast land, dat zich van het W. ten W. Z. W.\ntot op grooten afstand uitstrekte; naar mijne gissing kon het niet\nverder dan vijftien of twintig mijlen verwijderd zijn.\nIk wist niet welk deel van de wereld dit anders zijn kon, dan een\ngedeelte van Amerika, en naar mijne berekeningen moest het nabij de\nSpaansche bezittingen zijn, en was welligt geheel bewoond door wilden,\nwaarbij, zoo ik daar geland was, ik in een erger toestand zou geweest\nzijn dan in mijn tegenwoordigen, waarin ik nu de beschikking der\nVoorzienigheid erkende; welke ik thans begon te erkennen en te gelooven,\ndat alles ten beste schikte. Hiermede stelde ik mij tevreden, en het\nalle vruchtelooze wenschen, dat ik daar wezen mogt, varen.\nBovendien besloot ik, dat als dit land de Spaansche kust was, ik zeker\nden een of anderen tijd, eenig vaartuig her- of derwaarts zou zien\ntrekken; maar zoo niet, dan was het de woeste kust tusschen de Spaansche\nlanden en Brazili\u00eb; waar de ergste wilden wonen; want het zijn\nkannibalen of menscheneters, die alle menschen, welke hun in handen\nvallen, vermoorden en verslinden. Onder deze gedachten wandelde ik\nlangzaam verder. Ik vond, dat deze zijde van het eiland veel\nbekoorlijker was dan die waar mijne woning stond. De opene vlakten waren\nmet bloemen en gras bedekt, en vol fraai houtgewas. Ik zag eene\nmenigte papegaaijen en had er gaarne een willen vangen, om dien tam te\nmaken en te leeren spreken. Na eenige moeite ving ik een jongen\npapegaai, dien ik met een stokslag nedervelde. Toen hij weder bijkwam,\nnam ik hem mede naar huis, maar het duurde eenige jaren alvorens hij\nleerde spreken. Eindelijk echter leerde ik hem mij zeer gemeenzaam bij\nmijn naam te noemen, en het gevolg hiervan, schoon eene beuzeling, zal\nlater den lezer genoegen geven.\nDeze reis was mij zeer aangenaam. In de lage gronden vond ik hazen,\nalthans ik hield ze daarvoor, en vossen; doch zij verschilden veel van\nde soorten, die ik gezien had; ook kon ik niet van mij verkrijgen er van\nte eten, schoon ik verscheidene schoot. Doch dit behoefde ook niet; want\nik had geen gebrek aan zeer goed voedsel. Geiten, duiven en\nschildpadden, leverden met mijne rozijnen mij een maaltijd, dien ik in\nEngeland niet beter had kunnen verlangen, behalve wat het gezelschap\nbetreft. En schoon mijn lot ongelukkig genoeg was, had ik groote reden\ntot dankbaarheid, dat mijn voedsel zoo overvloedig was.\nIk kwam op deze reis nimmer meer dan twee mijlen per dag in eene regte\nlijn vooruit; maar ik deed zoo vele uitstapjes ter zijde af, om iets te\nontdekken, dat ik doodmoede was toen ik de plaats bereikte, waar ik den\nnacht wilde doorbrengen, en dan ging ik of in een boom zitten, of ik\nomringde mij met eene rij van staken, die ik op den grond of van den\neenen boom tot den anderen plaatste, zoodat geen wild dier mij kon\nbereiken, zonder mij wakker te maken.\nToen ik aan de zeekust kwam, werd ik gewaar, dat het lot mij op de\nongunstigste zijde van het eiland geworpen had; want hier was het strand\nmet eene menigte schildpadden bedekt, terwijl ik aan de andere zijde er\nslechts drie in anderhalf jaar gevonden had. Ook was hier eene\nonnoembare menigte vogels van allerlei aard, van welke ik sommigen\nvroeger en sommigen nimmer gezien had, en waarvan vele zeer goed om te\neten waren, maar van welke ik alleen de pingu\u00efns kende. Ik had er zoo\nveel kunnen schieten als ik wilde, maar ik was zeer zuinig met mijn\nkruid en lood, en derhalve wenschte ik liever eene geit te schieten\ndaar meer aan te eten was. Schoon hier meer geiten waren dan aan mijne\nzijde van het eiland, kon ik haar echter moeijelijker genaken, omdat het\nland zoo vlak en effen was, en zij mij veel spoediger zagen dan als ik\nop de heuvels was.\nHoezeer nu deze kant van het land veel aangenamer dan de mijne was, had\nik toch niet den minsten lust daarheen te verhuizen; want ik was thans\nin mijne woning te huis, en het scheen mij toe alsof ik thans op reis\nwas en van mijn huis af. Ik trok echter langs de zeekust, naar gissing\ntwaalf (Eng.) mijlen, en zette daar een grooten staak op het strand tot\neene baak; waarna ik besloot naar huis te keeren, en de volgende maal\neen togt te doen, oostwaarts van mijn woning, en zoo het eiland rond,\ntot ik weder op deze plaats kwam waar ik den staak gezet had.\nIk sloeg een anderen weg in om huiswaarts te keeren, denkende dat ik\ngemakkelijk het geheele eiland zou kunnen overzien, en mijn weg niet\nmissen; maar hierin vergiste ik mij, want toen ik een half uur afgelegd\nhad, bevond ik mij in een diep dal, dat door heuvels met geboomte bezet,\nomringd was, zoodat ik mijn weg alleen houden kon door mij naar de zon\nte rigten, en dit was nog moeijelijk, tenzij ik den juisten stand der\nzon op dat uur van den dag kende. Tot mijn ongeluk werd het weder\nbovendien mistig, gedurende de drie of vier dagen die ik in dit dal\ndoorbragt, en daar ik de zon niet zien kon, bragt ik dezelve zeer\nonaangenaam door, en was eindelijk verpligt naar het strand terug te\nkeeren, mijne baak op te zoeken, en langs denzelfden weg dien ik gegaan\nhad, terug te keeren. Ik deed dit met kleine dagreizen, daar het zeer\nheet was, en mijn geweer, ammunitie, bijl en andere dingen een zware\nlast waren.\nOp deze reis verraste mijn hond eene jonge geit; ik schoot toe, en het\ngelukte mij het dier nog levend te redden. Ik wilde het gaarne naar huis\nbrengen, want ik had lang gewenscht een paar geiten op te kweeken en zoo\nmogelijk eene kudde te bekomen, om mij tot voedsel te dienen als al mijn\nkruid en lood op was. Ik maakte een halsband voor het beestje, en met\neen touw, dat ik altijd bij mij droeg, voerde ik het, schoon niet\nzonder moeite mede, tot aan mijn buitenverblijf, waar ik het in de\nheining achterliet, want ik verlangde zeer naar mijn huis, waarvan ik\nthans eene maand afwezig was geweest.\nIk kan niet zeggen met welk genoegen ik dit weder bereikte en in mijne\nhangmat liggen ging. Deze kleine zwerftogt, zonder eenig vast verblijf,\nwas mij zoo onaangenaam geweest, dat mijn huis, zoo als ik het noemde,\nmij daarbij vergeleken, eene volmaakte woning toescheen. Ik had zoo veel\ngenoegen daar, dat ik besloot er nimmer weder zulk een tijd, zoo lang ik\nop het eiland was, mij van te verwijderen.\nIk bragt eene week door met van mijne vermoeijenissen uit te rusten, en\nbesteedde gedurende dezelve mijn tijd aan het gewigtig werk om een kooi\nvoor mijne papegaai te maken, die nu meer tam en reeds zeer aan mij\ngewoon werd. Daarna begon ik aan het geitje te denken, dat ik in mijne\nkleine heining had achtergelaten; ik besloot het te huis te halen of\neenig voedsel te brengen; ik ging er dus heen en vond het waar ik het\ngelaten had. Het kon er ook moeijelijk uit, want het was schier dood van\nhonger. Ik sneed eenige takjes en heesters af en wierp haar die toe, en\nnadat zij gegeten had, wilde ik haar met een touw wegleiden; maar de\nhonger had haar zoo tam gemaakt, dat zij mij volgde als een hond; en\ndaar ik het altijd voederde, werd het zoo mak en vrolijk en aan mij\ngehecht, dat het ook tot mijne huisdieren behoorde, en mij naderhand\nnimmer verliet.\nDe regentijd van de herfstevening was thans gekomen, en ik bragt den 30\nSeptember, den tweeden verjaardag dat ik hier aan land kwam, op dezelfde\nwijze als den eersten door. Ik was hier nu twee jaren geweest, en had\ngeen meer vooruitzigt van bevrijd te worden dan den eersten dag toen ik\nhier kwam. Den geheelen dag bragt ik door in dankzeggingen over de vele\ngenadebewijzen, mij in mijn eenzamen toestand te beurt gevallen. Ik\ndankte God dat Hij mij ontdekt had, dat ik zelfs in dezen toestand\ngelukkiger kon zijn dan in het midden der maatschappij en van al de\ngenoegens der wereld, en mij het gebrek aan menschelijken omgang\nvergoedde door zijne tegenwoordigheid, en de uitstorting zijner genade\nop mijne ziel, mij steunende, troostende en bemoedigende door op zijne\nVoorzienigheid hier, en op zijn eeuwig bijzijn hier namaals te hopen.\nIk begon thans levendig te gevoelen hoe veel gelukkiger het leven was,\ndat ik thans leidde, met al de ongemakken daaraan verknocht, dan het\nslechte en ruwe gedrag, dat ik tot hiertoe geleid had. Mijne begeerten,\ngenoegens en wenschen veranderden geheel bij hetgeen zij te voren\ngeweest waren.\nVroeger, als ik uitging om te jagen of het land te onderzoeken, kon mijn\njammer over mijn toestand eensklaps losbarsten, en mijn hart bezweek\nschier als ik dacht aan de bosschen, bergen en woestijnen, waarin ik mij\nbevond, en hoe ik door den Oceaan voor altijd in eene onbewoonde\nwildernis was geketend. Dan barstte ik soms in tranen uit als een kind,\nen wrong mij de handen. Somtijds te midden van mijn werk ging ik zitten,\nen staarde zuchtend een paar uren op den grond. Dit was het ergste,\nwant als ik mijne borst in tranen en jammerklagten kon lucht geven,\nverminderde mijne ne\u00earslagtigheid van lieverlede.\nThans echter begon ik mij met andere denkbeelden bezig te houden. Ik las\ndagelijks het Woord van God, en paste al de vertroostingen daarin op\nmijn toestand toe. Op zekeren morgen toen ik zoo ne\u00earslagtig was, opende\nik den bijbel bij deze woorden: \"Ik zal u nimmer verlaten!\"\nDadelijk viel het mij in, dat deze woorden voor mij geschreven waren;\nwaarom anders zou ik ze juist aangetroffen hebben, toen ik treurde over\nmijn toestand, als van God en menschen verlaten. Welaan, zeide ik, zoo\nGod mij niet verlaat, wat scheelt het of de geheele wereld mij verlaat.\nZoo ik aan den anderen kant de geheele wereld had, en Gods gunst en\nzegen verloor, zou het verlies oneindig grooter zijn.\nVan dit oogenblik af begreep ik, dat ik in mijn eenzamen, verlaten\ntoestand gelukkiger kon zijn, dan ik waarschijnlijk in eenigen anderen\nstaat in de wereld ooit zou geweest zijn; en deze gedachte deed mij op\nhet punt staan van God te danken, dat Hij mij op dit eiland gevoerd had.\nEr was echter iets in mij, dat zich hiertegen verzette, en mij de\nwoorden belette uit te spreken. Hoe kunt gij zulk een huichelaar zijn,\nzeide ik tot mij zelven, dat gij God dankt voor een toestand, waarmede\ngij wel moogt trachten tevreden te zijn, maar waarbij gij gaarne zoudt\nwillen bidden, dat God u er uit bevrijdde?--Schoon ik dus God niet\ndankte, dat ik mij hier bevond, dankte ik hem toch opregt, dat Hij door\nmijne tegenspoeden mij mijn vorig leven had doen inzien en tot berouw\nover hetzelve gebragt. Nimmer vatte ik den Bijbel op, of ik dankte God,\ndat Hij mijn vriend in Engeland dien zonder mijn orders onder mijne\ngoederen had doen pakken, en mij dien naderhand uit het wrak laten\nredden.\nIn deze gemoedsgesteldheid trad ik het derde jaar in, en hoewel ik den\nlezer niet met zulk een uitvoerig verslag van mijn arbeid als in het\neerste jaar lastig gevallen heb, kan ik over het algemeen aanmerken, dat\nik zelden ledig was, daar ik regelmatig mijn tijd verdeelde. Eerstelijk\nbad ik God en las eenigen tijd in den Bijbel, een gezetten tijd\ndriemalen daags; vervolgens ging ik met mijn geweer uit om voedsel te\nzoeken, hetwelk mij gewoonlijk drie uren elken morgen bezig hield, als\nhet niet regende. Eindelijk het afhalen en braden van hetgeen ik\ngeschoten of gevangen had, waarmede een groot deel van den dag verliep.\nOok moet men bedenken, dat het op het midden van den dag te warm was om\nuit te gaan, zoodat ik slechts tegen vier ure na den middag kon werken;\nsomtijds ook werkte ik des morgens, en ging tegen den avond met mijn\ngeweer uit.\nBij deze korte werkuren moet men voegen de groote moeijelijkheid van\nmijn werk, en de vele uren die ieder ding, dat ik maakte, mij kostte,\nuit gebrek aan werktuigen, aan hulp en aan bekwaamheid. Ik was bij\nvoorbeeld twee\u00ebnveertig dagen bezig met eene plank te maken tot eene\nlange tafel, die ik noodig had, terwijl twee timmerlieden met eene zaag\nuit denzelfden boom zes planken in een halven dag zouden vervaardigd\nhebben.\nIk moest in de eerste plaats een grooten boom vellen, omdat ik eene\nbreede plank wilde hebben. Hiermede bragt ik drie dagen door en nog twee\ndagen met het afkappen van de takken. Ik hakte toen met ontzettende\nmoeite zoo veel van den stam af tot hij bewogen kon worden; toen keerde\nik hem op zijde, en maakte een kant, van het begin tot het einde, zoo\nvlak en effen als eene plank, en keerde toen hem om, en bewerkte de\nandere zijde even zoo, tot ik een plank van drie duim dik had, die aan\nbeide zijden vlak was. Men oordeele welk een arbeid dit was; maar geduld\nen vlijt hielpen mij dit en vele andere dingen verrigten. Ik voer dit\naan ten bewijze, waarom een zoo gering werk mij zoo veel tijd kostte.\nHetgeen met hulp van anderen en geschikte werktuigen eene kleinigheid\nwas, werd voor een mensch alleen een allerzwaarste en langzaamste\narbeid. Desniettemin deden vlijt en volharding mij vele, ja alle zaken\ntot stand brengen, die ik in mijne omstandigheden behoefde.\nIk was nu in November en December, en wachtte den oogst van mijne rijst\nen graan. De grond, dien ik er voor omgespit had was niet groot, omdat\nik, gelijk ik zeide, slechts weinig had. Het graan stond echter zeer\ngoed, toen ik plotseling weder in gevaar kwam alles te verliezen, door\nverschillende vijanden, die ik moeijelijk kon afweren, als eerstelijk de\ngeiten, en de beesten, die ik hazen noemde, kregen smaak in de\ngraanhalmen, en aten het op zoodra het uitschoot, zoodat het geen airen\nkon schieten.\nIk zag geen middel hiertegen, dan om eene heining om mijn akker te\nmaken, hetgeen mij zwaren arbeid kostte, vooral omdat het spoed eischte.\nDaar de omtrek echter klein was, had ik er in drie weken eene heining\nom, en over dag schoot ik sommige beesten, en bij nacht liet ik mijn\nhond de wacht houden, dien ik aan een paal bij den ingang vast bond,\nwaar hij den geheelen nacht door blafte; dus ruimden de vijanden\nspoedig het veld, en het graan begon welig op te schieten.\nMaar hadden de beesten mijn graan vernield toen het opschoot, de vogels\nzouden mij waarschijnlijk alles ontrooven nu het airen schoot. Toen ik\ner langs ging om te zien hoe het stond, zag ik eene menigte vogels van\nallerlei soort er nabij, die slechts schenen te wachten tot ik zou\nvertrokken zijn. Dadelijk schoot ik onder hen, (want ik had altijd mijn\ngeweer bij mij) maar terstond daarop verhief zich eene wolk van vogels\nuit het graan, die ik nog niet gezien had.\nDat was mij eene groote teleurstelling; ik voorzag, dat zij in weinige\ndagen mij van alles zouden berooven, dat ik eindelijk verhongeren en\ngeen enkelen graankorrel ooit oogsten zou. Wat ik doen zou, wist ik\nniet. Ik besloot echter zoo mogelijk mijn koorn te bewaren, al zou ik er\nnacht en dag de wacht bij houden. In de eerste plaats ging ik zien welke\nschade zij alreeds aangerigt hadden, en vond, dat hoewel zij reeds veel\ngegeten hadden, de schade nog niet zoo groot was, en het overige nog een\ngoeden oogst zou geven als het behouden kon worden.\nToen ik mijn geweer laadde, zag ik de dieven overal rondom mij op de\nboomen zitten, alsof zij wachtten tot ik vertrokken zou zijn; ik deed\nalsof ik heen ging, en naauwelijks was ik uit hun gezigt of zij vielen\nweder in het graan. Ik was zoo verbitterd, dat ik niet wachten kon tot\ner nog meer waren, maar schoot weder en doodde er drie van. Dit was\nhetgeen ik wenschte, en ik behandelde ze gelijk men de dieven in\nEngeland doet, namelijk, ik hing ze op, ten voorbeeld voor anderen. Het\nis bijkans niet te begrijpen welk eene uitwerking dit had; want niet\nalleen streken de vogels niet meer in het koorn, maar kort daarop\nverlieten zij dat geheele gedeelte van het eiland, en ik zag geen vogel\nmeer, zoo lang mijne vogelverschrikkers daar hingen. Ik was hierover\nverrukt, gelijk men wel denken kan, en in het laatst van December haalde\nik mijn oogst binnen.\nIk had geen sikkel om het te snijden en moest dit dus met een groot mes\ndoen, hetgeen echter gemakkelijk was, daar de oogst niet groot was. Ik\nsneed alleen de airen af, en bragt die in eene groote mand naar huis,\nwaar ik met mijn handen er het graan uitwreef. Toen dit afgeloopen was,\nvond ik, dat ik van mijn zaad bijkans twee schepels rijst en twee en een\nhalf schepel graan geoogst had, dat wil zeggen naar gissing, want ik had\ngeen maat.\nDit was mij eene groote aanmoediging en ik hoopte, dat God mij met der\ntijd brood zou beschikken. Hier deden zich echter weder zwarigheden op;\nwant ik wist niet hoe ik mijn koorn zou malen, om er meel van te maken,\nnoch hoe ik, als het tot meel was, er brood van zou maken, en al wist ik\ndit, hoe ik het bakken zou. Deze zwarigheden, gevoegd bij mijn verlangen\nnaar eene groote hoeveelheid zaaikoorn, deden mij besluiten al het koorn\nvoor het volgende saizoen te bewaren, en middelerwijl mijn gedachten en\nmijn tijd te besteden, om mij van meel en brood te voorzien.\nIk mag letterlijk zeggen, dat ik thans voor mijn brood werkte. Het is\nzonderling en ik geloof dat er weinig menschen over nagedacht hebben,\nhoe veel kleine zaken er noodig zijn tot het voortbrengen van die eene\nenkele zaak, het brood. Ik, die in een blooten natuurstaat mij bevond,\nondervond dit tot mijn dagelijksch verdriet, en gevoelde dit ieder uur,\nvan het oogenblik af, dat ik zoo onverwachts met zaaikoorn verrast werd.\nEerstelijk had ik geen ploeg om den grond te beploegen, noch eene spade\nof schop om dien om te spitten. Dit overwon ik door eene houten spade te\nmaken; maar schoon hare vervaardiging mij vele dagen kostte, was zij\nniet alleen veel spoediger versleten dan eene ijzeren, maar het werken\ner mede ook veel zwaarder en slechter. Ik deed het er echter mede, zoo\ngoed als ik kon. Toen het koorn gezaaid was, had ik geen eg om het land\nte eggen, maar moest een zwaren boomtak achter mij aan slepen, om\nhiermede de kluiten te breken. Terwijl het rijpte ontdekte ik weder\nhoeveel werk ik had om het af te sluiten, te bewaren, te oogsten, naar\nhuis te brengen, te dorschen, van het kaf te scheiden en te bewaren.\nVervolgens ontbrak mij een molen om het te malen, een zeef om het te\nbuilen, gest en zout om er brood van te maken, en een oven om het in te\nbakken; en echter wist ik al deze dingen te maken of te doen vervangen,\ngelijk men in het vervolg zien zal, en het graan werd eene onschatbare\naanwinst voor mij. Al mijn werk ging hierdoor langzaam en moeijelijk,\nmaar dit was niet te verhelpen; en ook had ik er tijd genoeg voor; omdat\nik er dagelijks vaste uren toe bestemd had. Daar ik besloten had niets\nvan mijn koorn tot brood te gebruiken, voor ik er meer van zou hebben,\nhad ik zes maanden voor mij om mij de gereedschappen aan te schaffen,\ndie noodig waren om brood van het koorn te bereiden.\nMaar eerst moest ik meer land toebereiden, want ik had nu zaad genoeg\nvoor meer dan een morgen lands. Vooraf had ik ten minste eene week werk\nom mij eene spade te maken, die nog slecht en zwaar genoeg was, en mij\nden arbeid verdubbelde. Ik deed het echter er mede, en zaaide mijn zaad\nop twee groote vlakke stukken gronds, zoo digt bij mijn huis als ik die\nvinden kon. Ik maakte er eene goede heining om, van stekken gelijk ik er\nte voren om gezet had, en die ik wist dat goed groeiden, zoodat ik\nrekenen kon binnen het jaar eene goede heining te hebben, die slechts\nweinig herstelling zou behoeven. Hoezeer dit werk niet zwaar was, gingen\ner echter drie maanden mede heen, omdat het meerendeels in het\nregensaizoen was, waarin ik weinig kon uitgaan. Binnen 's huis vond ik,\nals het regende en ik niet kon uitgaan, altijd bezigheid genoeg, en\nonder het werk vermaakte ik mij met tot mijn papegaai te praten en hem\nte leeren spreken. Spoedig leerde ik hem zijn eigen naam uitspreken:\n_Koo_, hetwelk het eerste woord was, dat op het eiland door een anderen\nmond dan den mijnen uitgesproken werd. Dit was dus geen arbeid, maar\neene uitspanning voor mij, gedurende het zware werk dat ik voor mij\nhad.\nIk had namelijk lang gepeinsd hoe ik op de eene of andere wijze aarden\npotten zou kunnen maken, die ik hoog noodig had. De hitte van het\nklimaat echter deed mij denken, dat als ik slechts goede klei vond, ik\nwel eene pot daarvan zou kunnen vormen, die in de zon gedroogd, hard en\nsterk genoeg zou zijn om gehanteerd te worden en drooge goederen in te\nbewaren. Ik had die noodig voor koorn, vleesch, enz. Ik besloot dus\npotten te maken, zoo groot als ik kon, en alleen geschikt om iets in te\nbewaren.\nDe lezer zou mij beklagen of liever uitlagchen, als ik hem verhaalde,\nwelke zonderlinge middelen ik bedacht om hierin te slagen; welke\nleelijke en wanvormige dingen uit mijne handen kwamen, en hoe dikwijls\nmijne potten invielen, omdat de klei niet sterk genoeg was om haar eigen\ngewigt te dragen; hoe velen er barstten door de zware zonnehitte,\nwaaraan ik ze te haastig blootstelde; en hoe velen aan stukken vielen,\nals ik ze wilde optillen, zoo wel voor als nadat zij gedroogd waren; en\nom kort te gaan, hoe, nadat ik met veel moeite klei gevonden,\nuitgedolven, naar huis gebragt, aangemengd en bewerkt had, ik slechts\ntwee groote leelijke aarden dingen, die men geen potten noemen mogt, na\neen arbeid van twee maanden, tot stand had gebragt.\nToen de zon deze twee echter zeer goed droog en hard had gemaakt, tilde\nik ze voorzigtig op, en plaatste ze in twee groote manden, die ik\ndaarvoor gevlochten had, ten einde zij niet zouden breken, en daar zij\nniet juist er inpasten, vulde ik de tusschenruimten aan met het stroo\nvan mijne rijst en graan. Deze twee potten, die altoos droog stonden,\nbegreep ik dat mijn koorn en misschien mijn meel zouden kunnen bevatten.\nHoe weinig het vervaardigen van groote potten mij nu gelukt was, slaagde\nik echter beter met het maken van kleine ronde potten, schotels en\ndergelijke, die door de zonnewarmte zeer hard droogden. Dit alles\nvoldeed echter niet aan mijn wensch, van eene aarden pot te hebben om\nvloeistoffen in te bewaren, en die het vuur verdragen kon, hetgeen bij\ndeze het geval niet was. Toen ik eenigen tijd daarna een groot vuur\naangemaakt had, om mijn vleesch te braden, en het later wilde uitdooven,\nvond ik in het vuur een stuk van een mijner gebroken potten, dat zoo\nhard als een steen, en zoo rood als een tegel gebakken was. Dit gezigt\nverraste mij en dadelijk begreep ik, dat de geheele pot zoo goed hard\nworden zou op het vuur, als een stuk daarvan. Ik dacht na hoe ik het\nbest vuur zou aanleggen, om eenige potten te bakken. Van een oven,\ngelijk de pottenbakkers gebruiken, had ik geen begrip, evenmin van de\nwijze om die te verglazen, maar ik plaatste drie groote kruiken, en twee\nof drie potten boven op elkander, en het brandhout er om heen, met een\ngrooten hoop asch er onder. Ik stookte het vuur steeds aan, totdat ik\nzag dat de potten van binnen gloeijend waren, en dat zij geen van allen\nbarstten. Toen zij helder gloeiden, hield ik het vuur op dezelfde\nhoogte, gedurende vijf of zes uren; toen ik zag dat eene daarvan,\nofschoon niet barstende, begon te smelten, of vloeibaar te worden, want\nhet zand, dat onder de klei zat begon te smelten en zou tot glas\ngeworden zijn, als ik voortgegaan had. Ik liet dus het vuur\nlangzamerhand uitgaan, tot de potten niet meer gloeiden, en bleef er den\ngeheelen nacht bij om het vuur niet te snel te laten uitdooven. In den\nmorgen had ik drie goede, ik zal niet zeggen fraaije kruiken, en twee\npotten, zoo hard als ik wenschen kon, en een daarvan was door het\ngesmolten zand volkomen verglaasd.\nIk behoef niet te zeggen, dat ik na deze proefneming geen gebrek aan\naardewerk meer had, maar ik moet bekennen, dat de vorm er van soms vrij\nzonderling was, want ik maakte ze gelijk kinderen soms voorwerpen van\nklei of stopverw maken.\nNimmer echter verheugde iemand zich over eene geringe zaak meer dan ik,\ntoen ik gewaar werd, dat ik een aarden pot gemaakt had, die tegen het\nvuur bestand was; en ik had naauwelijks geduld genoeg om te wachten tot\nzij koud waren geworden, om een er van met wat water weder op het vuur\nte zetten, om er eenig vleesch in te koken, hetgeen zeer goed ging, en\nik verkreeg eene zeer goede soep, schoon het mij aan meel en\nverscheidene andere dingen ontbrak, om die zoo goed te maken als ik\nwenschte.\nThans was mijne eerste zorg een steenen vijzel mij te verschaffen, om\nmijn koorn in te stampen, want om met mijne twee handen een molen te\nmaken, daaraan was niet te denken. Hoe ik dit echter zou aanvangen was\nmij langen tijd een raadsel, want van alle handwerken ter wereld, was ik\nvoor dat van steenzager nog minder bekwaam dan voor eenig ander. Menigen\ndag besteedde ik met naar een steen te zoeken, die groot genoeg was om\nuitgehold te worden en voor een vijzel geschikt te maken, maar ik kon er\ngeen vinden, behalve een stuk van de rots, dat ik niet er af kon hakken.\nGeen der rotsen op het eiland waren ook hard genoeg; allen waren van\neene soort van zandsteen, die de zwaarte van een grooten stamper niet\nzoude kunnen verduren, en het koorn met zand zoude vermengen bij het\nkneuzen. Na dus veel tijd met het zoeken naar een steen verloren te\nhebben, gaf ik het op, en besloot liever een groot blok van hard hout te\nzoeken, dat ik veel gemakkelijker vond, en toen ik er een gevonden had,\nzoo groot als ik slechts bewegen kon, maakte ik het rond met mijn bijl,\nen holde het toen uit met behulp van vuur en met oneindige moeite, op de\nwijze als de Indianen in Brazili\u00eb hunne kanoe's maken. Daarna maakte ik\neen grooten zwaren stamper van ijzerhout, en bewaarde dit toen, tegen\ndat ik mijn eerstvolgenden oogst zou te huis hebben gehaald, wanneer ik\nvoornemens was mijn koorn tot meel te stampen, om daarvan brood te\nmaken.\nThans moest ik zorgen om eene zeef te maken, om mijn meel van de zemelen\nte scheiden, zonder hetwelk ik begreep geen goed brood te zullen\nverkrijgen. Dit was allermoeijelijkst, want van hetgeen ik er toe noodig\nhad, had ik niets, ik bedoel, fijn dun linnen of gaas. Maanden lang wist\nik niet wat hieraan te doen; ik had geen ander linnen dan eenige lappen.\nIk had wel geitenhaar, maar wist niet hoe dit gesponnen of geweven moest\nworden, en al had ik het geweten, dan had ik er geen gereedschap toe.\nEindelijk echter bedacht ik, dat ik onder de matrozenkleederen, die ik\nuit het schip gered had, eenige neteldoeksche halsdoeken had. Van deze\nmaakte ik drie kleine zeven, die echter voor het gebruik tamelijk\ngeschikt waren, en waarmede ik mij eenige jaren behielp. Hoe ik later\ndeed zal ik op zijne plaats vermelden.\nNu moest ik om het bakken denken, en hoe ik deeg zou maken als ik meel\nhad, want ik had geen gest. Daar hieraan niets te doen viel, dacht ik er\nook niet lang over, maar ik had meer zorg over een oven. Eindelijk\nbedacht ik een middel om mij hierin te helpen; ik maakte namelijk eenige\naarden potten zeer breed maar niet diep, dat is zeggen van ongeveer twee\nvoet in doorsnede, en negen duim hoog; deze bakte ik in het vuur gelijk\nde vorigen en bewaarde ze, en als ik brood wilde bakken legde ik een\ngroot vuur op mijn haard aan, dien ik met eenige tegels, ook al van mijn\neigen baksel, belegd had, maar die alles behalve volkomen vierkant\nwaren.\nAls het hout goed tot kolen gebrand was, plaatste ik deze op den haard,\nzoodat hij er geheel mede bedekt was en liet ze daar liggen tot de haard\ngloeijend heet was, dan schoof ik ze ter zijde en plaatste er mijn\npotten of vormen op, en hoopte de kolen op zijde daartegen aan, om de\nhitte te vermeerderen. Aldus bakte ik mijn deeg, zoo goed als in den\nbesten oven van de wereld, en werd weldra een heele pastijbakker, want\nik maakte al aardige rijstkoekjes en poddings, maar geen pastijtjes,\nwant daar had ik alleen geitenvleesch of dat van gevogelte in kunnen\ndoen.\nMen moet zich niet verwonderen, dat ik hiermede bijkans geheel het derde\njaar van mijn verblijf bezig was, want men moet bedenken, dat ik onder\nde hand tevens mijn nieuwen oogsten akkerbouw moest bestieren. Ik maaide\nmijn koorn op zijn tijd, en bragt het naar huis zoo goed ik kon, in\nmijne groote manden, waarin ik het in de airen liggen liet, tot ik tijd\nhad het er uit te wrijven; want ik had geen dorschvloer, en geen vlegel\nom het mede te dorschen.\nEn daar nu mijn voorraad van koorn vermeerderde, had ik ook een grooter\nbergplaats noodig. Ik had nu ongeveer twintig schepels graan en schier\neven veel rijst, zoodat ik het nu vrij durfde gebruiken, want mijn brood\nwas reeds lang op. Ik besloot nu ook te zien hoe veel ik voor een geheel\njaar noodig had, en dan slechts eenmaal 's jaars te zaaijen.\nIk bevond ten laatste dat ik aan de veertig schepels rijst en graan voor\neen jaar meer dan genoeg had, dus nam ik voor alle jaren even veel als\nde laatste maal te zaaijen, in de hoop, dat ik aan den oogst hiervan ten\nvolle genoeg zou hebben, voor brood voor een geheel jaar.\nTerwijl ik mij met deze dingen onledig hield, waren mijne gedachten\ndikwijls gevestigd op het land, dat ik van den anderen kant van het\neiland had gezien, en wenschte ik heimelijk, dat ik daar aan wal zijn\nmogt, in de verbeelding, dat ik het vaste land en een bewoonde plaats\nzien, en eenig middel ontdekken zou, om verder te komen. Ik dacht echter\nweinig aan de gevaren van zulk een toestand, en hoe ik in de handen der\nwilden zou kunnen vallen, welke welligt meer te vreezen waren dan de\nleeuwen en tijgers van Afrika, en dat zoo ik in hunne handen viel, het\nduizend tegen een was, dat ik gedood en welligt opgegeten zou worden;\nwant ik had gehoord, dat de bewoners van de Cara\u00efbische kust kannibalen\nof menscheneters waren; en naar de breedte te oordeelen, kon ik niet ver\nvan hen verwijderd zijn. En al waren zij geene menscheneters, dan konden\nzij mij ligtelijk dooden, gelijk zoo vele Europeanen gebeurd was, die in\nhunne handen waren gevallen, zelfs bij tien en twintig te gelijk, hoe\nveel meer dan mij, die alleen was en mij weinig of niet verdedigen kon.\nDit alles, zeg ik, hetgeen ik toen had moeten bedenken, en dat mij later\ninviel, boezemde mij toen geen de minste vrees in, en steeds peinsde ik\nop middelen om naar die kust over te steken. Hoe verlangde ik thans naar\nden Moorschen jongen en de boot, met welke ik wel duizend mijlen langs\nde Afrikaansche kust had afgelegd; maar deze had ik thans niet. Toen\nbedacht ik de boot van ons schip te gaan opzoeken, die, gelijk ik zeide,\neen groot eind weegs op het strand was geslagen, bij het begin van den\nstorm. Deze lag nog bijkans op dezelfde plaats en was door het geweld\nvan wind en golven bijkans onderst boven gekeerd, tegen eenen hoogen\nzandheuvel aan, waar zij hoog en droog lag. Zoo ik volk bij mij gehad\nhad, om deze boot te herstellen en te water te brengen, had dit wel\nkunnen geschieden, en ik er mede naar Brazili\u00eb teruggekeerd zijn; maar\nik kon ligt beseffen, dat ik haar evenmin kon opheffen en omkeeren als\nhet eiland zelf. Ik ging echter naar het bosch, en kapte hefboomen en\nrollen, en bragt die naar de boot, om te zien wat ik er mede zou kunnen\ndoen, daar ik dacht, dat als ik haar maar eerst omgekeerd had, ik\ngemakkelijk de schade zou kunnen herstellen, en daar het eene zeer goede\nsloep was, er mede in zee steken.\nIk spaarde geene moeite aan dezen vruchteloozen arbeid, en bragt er,\ngeloof ik, drie of vier weken mede zoek. Toen ik eindelijk vond, dat het\nmij onmogelijk was haar om te keeren, bedacht ik, het zand er onder uit\nte delven, en haar zoo te doen vallen, nadat ik er verscheidene stukken\nhout onder geplaatst had, om den val te breken en te regelen.\nMaar toen ik dit gedaan had, kon ik haar evenmin verwrikken, of er onder\nkomen, laat staan haar te water brengen; dus moest ik dit opgeven;\nschoon ik echter alle hoop op de boot varen liet, groeide mijne\nbegeerte, om naar het vaste land over te steken, steeds aan, naar gelang\nde middelen daartoe onmogelijker schenen.\nDit bragt mij op de gedachten, of het mij niet mogelijk zou zijn eene\nkanoe of praauw te maken, gelijk de inboorlingen onder deze hemelstreek\ngebruiken, zelfs zonder gereedschappen, namelijk uit een grooten\nboomstam. Ik achtte dit niet alleen mogelijk, maar zelfs gemakkelijk, en\nverheugde mij zeer in het vooruitzigt, die te maken, en dat ik daartoe\nmeer hulpmiddelen zelfs had dan de Negers en Indianen. Maar ik dacht\nniet aan hetgeen, waarin ik bij de Indianen te kort schoot, namelijk\ngebrek aan volk om te roeijen, als zij klaar was, eene zwarigheid, die\nvoor mij veel moeijelijker te overwinnen was dan al het gebrek aan\ngereedschappen voor hen; want wat baatte het mij als ik een grooten boom\nuit het bosch had uitgekipt, dien met veel moeite gekapt, en ik daarna\nmet behulp van mijne werktuigen in staat was, dien van buiten den vorm\nvan een boot te geven, en van binnen met vuur of ijzer uit te hollen,\nzoo dat het eene boot werd; als ik na dat alles die moest laten waar zij\nlag, en niet in staat was haar te water te brengen?\nMen zal niet kunnen begrijpen, dat ik niet de minste nagedachten over\nmijn toestand had, terwijl ik de boot maakte, anders had ik dadelijk\nmoeten denken hoe ik haar in zee zou brengen; maar mijne gedachten waren\nzoo geheel vervuld met mijne reis over zee met haar, dat ik er zelfs\nnimmer aan dacht, hoe ik van het land zou komen, en toch was het\ninderdaad voor mij veel gemakkelijker de boot vijftien mijlen over zee\nte brengen, dan vijfenveertig over land, van de plaats waar zij lag tot\nin het water.\nIk toog te werk aan deze boot, meer als een gek, dan als iemand, die\nzijn gezond verstand heeft. De voorgenomen reis streelde mij, zonder dat\nik ooit overwoog of ik wel in staat zou zijn die te beginnen. Wel dacht\nik dikwijls, dat het mij moeijelijk zou zijn mijne boot te water\nbrengen, maar dan stopte ik mij zelven den mond met het dwaze antwoord:\n\"Laat mij maar eerst de kanoe gereed hebben, dan zal ik wel middel\nvinden haar te gebruiken.\"\nDit was eene alleronverstandigste handelwijze, maar mijne verbeelding\nbragt mij het hoofd op hol, en dus ging ik aan het werk, en deed een\ncederboom vallen. Ik weet niet of Salomo ooit een grooter had bij de\nbouwing van den tempel te Jeruzalem, want hij was van onderen bij den\nwortel vijf voet en tien duim in doorsnede, en vier voet elf duim aan\nhet andere einde, twee\u00ebntwintig voet hooger, daarna werd hij dunner en\nliep in takken uit. Met eindelooze moeite velde ik dezen boom. Twintig\ndagen hakte ik aan den stam, toen had ik nog veertien dagen noodig om\ner de takken en armen, en de wijd uitgespreide kruin af te kappen,\nhetgeen met mijne bijlen een ontzettende arbeid voor mij was. Daarna\nging er nog eene maand heen met den stam te vormen, en er eenigermate\nden vorm van eene sloep aan te geven, zoodat hij, gelijk het behoorde,\nregt op in het water kon drijven. Het uithollen, zoo dat hij den juisten\nvorm van eene sloep verkreeg, deed ik zonder behulp van vuur, maar door\nzwaren arbeid met een hamer en beitel, tot ik eindelijk eene vrij knappe\npraauw voor den dag bragt, groot genoeg om zesentwintig man te voeren,\nen dus althans groot genoeg voor mij en mijne lading.\nToen mijn werk zoo ver gedaan was, had ik er regt genoegen in. De boot\nwas vrij wat grooter dan ik ooit in mijn leven eene kanoe of praauw, uit\n\u00e9\u00e9n stam gemaakt, had gezien. Menig droppel zweet had zij mij gekost,\ndat kan ik verzekeren. Nu bleef er slechts over haar te water te laten\nloopen. Zoo ik dit had kunnen doen, twijfel ik niet of ik zou de\ndolzinnigste en gewaagdste reis ondernomen hebben, die ooit bij iemand\nopgekomen was.\nMaar al mijne uitvindingen, om haar te water te brengen, mislukten,\nschoon zij mij ontzettenden arbeid kostten. De boot lag wel niet verder\ndan ongeveer honderd ellen van het water, maar in de eerste plaats liep\nde grond hoog op bij de kreek. Ik besloot deze hoogte weg te graven, zoo\ndat de grond daar laag afliep. Hieraan begon ik weder met ontzettende\nmoeite; maar wie vraagt naar moeite bij het vooruitzigt op zijne\nbevrijding? Maar toen deze moeijelijkheid uit den weg geruimd was, was\ner slechts \u00e9\u00e9n bezwaar overwonnen, want ik kon de kanoe even min bewegen\nals vroeger de andere boot.\nIk mat daarop den afstand, en daar ik de kanoe niet naar het water kon\nbrengen, besloot ik het water naar de kanoe te brengen, door een kanaal\nte graven tot aan de plaats, waar zij lag. Ik begon ook hieraan, maar\ntoen ik nu eens narekende hoe diep en breed ik dit moest graven, hoe ik\nde aarde er uit moest werken, vond ik, dat bij het aantal handen,\nwaarover ik beschikken kon, te weten mijne eigene twee, er tien of\ntwaalf jaren zouden verloopen voor ik dit kon volbrengen, want de kust\nlag hoog, zoo dat ik aan het einde twintig voet diep had moeten graven.\nHoezeer met grooten weerzin, moest ik dus eindelijk mijn plan opgeven.\nDit griefde mij bitter, en nu zag ik te laat in hoe dwaas het is een\nwerk te beginnen, zonder eerst te bedenken, of wij in staat zijn het te\nvolvoeren.\nMidden in dit werk was ik, toen het vierde jaar van mijn verblijf alhier\neindigde, en ik bragt dien dag evenzeer in gebeden door als de vorige,\nen met gelijke vertroosting, want door eene gestadige beoefening van\nGods Woord, en ondersteund door Gods genade, had ik thans geheel andere\nbegrippen dan te voren. Ik beschouwde nu de wereld als een afgelegen\noord, als iets, waarmede ik niets te maken, waarvan ik niets te\nverwachten had, en waarnaar ik waarlijk niet verlangde. Kortom, daar ik\ner waarschijnlijk nimmer weder iets mede te maken zou hebben, beschouwde\nik de wereld gelijk ik dacht, dat wij die welligt hier namaals zullen\nbeschouwen, namelijk als een plaats, waarin ik geleefd, doch die ik\nthans verlaten had. Ik mogt er wel van zeggen gelijk Abraham tot den\nrijken man in het Evangelie: \"Tusschen mij en ulieden is eene groote\nkloof gevestigd.\"\nIk was inderdaad buiten het bereik van de verzoekingen der wereld. Noch\nden lust des vleesches, noch den lust der oogen, noch de hoogmoed des\nlevens had ik hier te duchten. Ik had niets te benijden, want al wat mij\nhier eenig genot kon verschaffen was in mijn bezit. Ik was heer van het\ngeheele land, en kon mij keizer of koning van hetzelve noemen als ik het\ngoed vond. Ik had geene mededingers, niemand die mij de heerschappij of\nhet oppergezag betwistte. Ik had scheepsladingen koorn kunnen teelen,\nmaar kon ze niet gebruiken, dus liet ik niet meer groeijen dan ik voor\nmij noodig achtte. Ik had overvloed van schildpadvleesch, nu en dan een\nwas voor mij genoeg. Ik had hout genoeg om eene geheele vloot te bouwen,\nen genoeg druiven om die vloot met wijn of rozijnen te laden, als zij\ngebouwd was.\nMaar voor mij was datgene alleen van waarde, wat ik gebruiken kon. Ik\nhad genoeg om in mijne behoeften te voorzien, en wat zou mij meer gebaat\nhebben? Had ik meer wild geschoten dan ik nuttigen kon, mijn hond of de\nroofvogels hadden het moeten eten; had ik meer koorn gezaaid dan ik\nnoodig had, het had moeten bederven. De boomen, die ik geveld had, lagen\nop den grond te verrotten. Ik kon ze alleen als brandhout gebruiken, en\ndit had ik alleen noodig om mijn eten op te koken.\nIn \u00e9\u00e9n woord, de natuur en mijne ondervinding leerden mij, na rijp\nnadenken, dat alle goederen der wereld voor ons niet verder goed zijn\ndan zij voor ons gebruik geschikt zijn, en dat van al wat wij\nbijeenschrapen, om anderen te geven, wij zoo veel genieten als wij\ngebruiken kunnen en meer niet. De schraapzuchtigste vrek der wereld zou\nvan zijne gierigheid genezen zijn geworden, als hij in mijn toestand\nware geweest, want ik bezat oneindig meer dan ik wist te gebruiken. Ik\nhad niets te verlangen, dan eenige beuzelingen, die ik niet bezat, maar\ndie mij van groot nut zouden geweest zijn. Ik had, gelijk ik vroeger\ngezegd had, eenig geld in goud en zilver, ter waarde van ruim\nzesendertig pond sterling. Helaas, daar lag dat ellendig, nietswaardig\ngoed! Ik kon er niets mede aanvangen, en dacht dikwijls bij mij zelven,\ndat ik er handen vol van had willen geven voor een gros tabakspijpen of\neen molen om mijn koorn te malen; ik had het altemaal willen geven voor\nde waarde van een paar dubbeltjes aan zaad van peenen en knollen, of\nvoor eene hand vol erwten en boonen en eene flesch inkt. Thans had ik er\nniet het minste voordeel van, het lag in eene lade te beschimmelen door\nde vochtigheid in het regensaizoen; en al was die lade vol diamanten\ngeweest, het zou hetzelfde geweest zijn, en daar zij mij van geen nut\nwaren, hadden zij geene waarde voor mij.\nMijn levenswijze was thans voor mij veel aangenamer en geruster naar\nligchaam en ziel, dan in den beginne. Dikwijls zette ik mij met een\ndankbaar hart aan tafel, en bewonderde de bestiering der Goddelijke\nVoorzienigheid, die aldus in de wildernis mij spijs had bereid. Ik\nleerde meer op de gunstige en minder op de ongunstige zijde van mijn\ntoestand zien, en meer te denken aan hetgeen ik bezat dan aan hetgeen\nmij ontbrak, en dit verschafte mij somwijlen meer opbeuring dan ik hier\nkan zeggen, en waarvan ik hier melding maak, om dit te doen bedenken aan\nhen, die onvergenoegd zijn en niet rustig kunnen genieten wat God hun\ngeschonken heeft, omdat zij datgene zien en benijden, wat Hij hun heeft\nonthouden. Al ons verdriet over hetgeen ons ontbreekt, schijnt mij toe\nte ontstaan uit gebrek aan dankbaarheid voor hetgeen wij bezitten.\nEene andere bedenking was mij zeer nuttig, en zal dit ongetwijfeld zijn\nvoor ieder, die zich in een tegenspoed als de mijne bevindt; deze\nbestond daarin, dat ik mijn tegenwoordigen toestand vergeleek met dien,\nwelken ik in den beginne te gemoet zag, en die zeker mijn lot zou\ngeweest zijn, als Gods genadige Voorzienigheid niet het schip nader bij\nhet strand had geworpen, zoodat ik er niet alleen kon bijkomen, maar er\nalles uit naar den wal brengen, wat ik noodig had; zonder hetwelk ik\nnoch gereedschap om te werken, noch wapens tot mijne verdediging, noch\nkruid en lood om mijn voedsel te verkrijgen, zou gehad hebben.\nGeheele uren, ja geheele dagen bragt ik aldus door met mij op het\nlevendigst voor te stellen hoe ik had moeten handelen, als ik niets uit\nhet schip had kunnen halen; hoe ik geen ander voedsel dan visch en\nschildpadden had bekomen, of liever, daar het lang duurde eer ik dezen\nvond, hoe ik voor dien tijd van honger had moeten sterven, of zoo niet,\nhoe ik dan als een wilde had moeten leven, en zoo ik bij toeval mij van\neen geit of een visch meester had gemaakt, hoe ik die niet had kunnen\nafhalen, maar met mijne tanden het vleesch van de beenen afknagen en als\neen beest vaneen scheuren.\nDeze gedachten deden mij de goedheid der Voorzienigheid jegens mij\nbeseffen, en mij dankbaar zijn voor mijn tegenwoordigen toestand, met al\nzijne gevaren en ongemakken; en ik moet dus ook dit ernstig ter\noverweging aanbevelen aan hen, die in hunne ellende zeggen: \"Is er\neenige droefenis als de mijne?\" Laat hen bedenken hoe veel erger sommige\nlieden er aan toe zijn, en zij zelven zouden zijn, als de Voorzienigheid\ndit gewild had.\nNog eene bedenking vertroostte mijn geest, en deze was, als ik mijn\ntegenwoordigen toestand vergeleek met dien, welken ik verdiende, en dus\nbillijk van de Voorzienigheid had mogen verwachten. Ik had geleefd\nbuiten alle kennis en vreeze Gods. Wel hadden mijne ouders mij\nonderwezen en vroegtijdig getracht mij de vreeze Gods in te boezemen,\nmet een besef van mijne pligten en van de bestemming en het doel mijns\nlevens. Maar, helaas, vroegtijdig was ik tot een zwervend leven\nvervallen, en in een gezelschap, waarin het weinige van de godsdienst\nwerd uitgeroeid, dat ik nog bezat, door den spot mijner makkers, door\neene hardvochtige verachting van gevaren en het zien van den dood,\nwaaraan ik gewoon raakte; door mijn langdurig verstoken zijn van alle\ngelegenheid om met iemand van andere beginselen dan ik omtegaan, of iets\nte hooren, dat goed was, of eene goede strekking had.\nZoo geheel was ik buiten het bezit van al wat goed was, of van alle\ndenkbeeld daaraan, dat bij mijn grootste weldaden, zoo als mijne\nontsnapping van Sal\u00e9, toen ik door den Portugeschen kapitein opgenomen\nwerd, toen ik zoo wel slaagde in Brazili\u00eb, mijne lading uit Engeland\nontving, enz., ik nimmer de woorden: \"Gode zij dank,\" in mijn hart of in\nmijn mond had; en bij mijne grootste tegenspoeden dacht ik zelfs niet\naan het gebed, en gebruikte Gods naam alleen tot vloeken en lasteren.\nVerscheidene maanden, gelijk ik reeds gezegd heb, was mijn geest zeer\nbedrukt over mijn vorig snood en verhard leven; en toen ik alles om mij\nheen beschouwde en overwoog, welke bijzondere bestieringen ik sedert\nmijne komst alhier had ontwaard, en hoe goedertieren God met mij\ngehandeld had; hoe Hij mij niet alleen minder gestraft had, dan mijne\novertredingen verdienden, maar zoo genadig voor mij gezorgd had; gaf dit\nmij groote hoop, dat God mijn berouw had aangenomen, en ik nog in 't\nvervolg op zijne goedertierenheid hopen mogt.\nDeze overwegingen maakten mij niet alleen onderworpen aan den wil van\nGod, in mijn tegenwoordigen toestand, maar zelfs opregt dankbaar voor\ndenzelven. Ik bedacht, dat ik, die nog in leven was, mij niet mogt\nbeklagen, daar ik geenszins de regtmatige straf voor mijne zonden had\nontvangen; maar dat ik dagelijks mij verheugen en dankbaar zijn moest\nvoor dat dagelijksch brood, dat mij als door een wonder geschonken was,\neen wonder zoo groot, als dat van de voeding door de raven van den\nProfeet Elias, of liever door eene reeks van wonderen. Ik bedacht, dat\nik van al de onbewoonde plaatsen op de wereld, geene plaats kon\nbedenken, waar ik gunstiger omstandigheden had kunnen aantreffen. Ik was\naan den eenen kant van alle menschelijk gezelschap beroofd, hetgeen mij\neene groote droefheid was, maar aan den anderen kant werd mijn leven\nniet bedreigd door verscheurende dieren; er waren geene venijnige dieren\nof giftige planten, geene wilden om mij te slagten. Kortom, schoon mijn\nleven aan den eenen kant zeer treurig was, was het aan den anderen kant\ngezegend; zoo ik slechts een regt besef had van Gods goedheid en zorg\nvoor mij, en hieruit mijne dagelijksche vertroosting putte. Toen ik\ndeze dingen goed inzag, was ik niet meer ter nedergeslagen.\nIk was hier nu zoo lang geweest, dat verscheidene zaken, die ik aan wal\nhad gebragt of geheel versleten of gebruikt waren. Mijne inkt\nbijvoorbeeld was geheel verbruikt, sedert eenigen tijd, op een weinig\nna, dat ik zoo dikwijls met water had aangelengd, tot hij zoo bleek was,\ndat men hem naauwelijks op het papier zien kon. Zoo lang hij duurde had\nik hem gebruikt, om de dagen van de maand op te teekenen, waarin mij\niets merkwaardigs gebeurde, en bij overweging van het verledene,\nontdekte ik een zonderling zamentreffen van de dagen, waarop mij\nverschillende gewigtige gebeurtenissen bejegend waren, en zoo ik\nbijgeloovig genoeg was geweest, om aan ongelukkige of gelukkige dagen te\ngelooven, zouden mij deze niet zonder reden sterk getroffen hebben.\nIn de eerste plaats vond ik, dat op denzelfden dag van het jaar, dat ik\nmijn vaders huis verliet en naar Hull ging, om in zee te gaan, op\ndienzelfden dag werd ik door een Saleschen kaper genomen en tot slaaf\ngemaakt. Ik ontkwam aan de schipbreuk op de reede van Yarraouth op\ndenzelfden dag, dat ik naderhand van Sal\u00e9 in de boot vlugtte. Eindelijk,\nop mijn geboortedag, te weten den 30 September, werd mijn leven zoo\nwonderdadig gespaard, toen ik op dit eiland op het strand geworpen werd;\nzoo dat mijn zondig leven en mijn eenzaam leven op dit eiland op\ndenzelfden dag begonnen waren.\nHet eerst wat na mijn inkt op raakte was mijn brood, ik bedoel de\nbeschuit, die ik uit het schip bragt. Met deze was ik zoo spaarzaam als\nmogelijk geweest, en had meer dan een jaar lang er dagelijks slechts een\nvan gebruikt; en toch had ik een geheel jaar lang geen brood, tot ik\nzelf eenig koorn verkreeg, hetgeen zoo wonderdadig bewaard en eene\ngroote weldaad voor mij was.\nMijne kleederen begonnen jammerlijk te verslijten. Ik had geen linnen\nmeer dan eenige oude hemden, die ik in de kisten van andere matrozen had\ngevonden, en die ik zorgvuldig bewaarde, omdat ik dikwijls niets anders\ndragen kon dan een hemd, en het was een groot geluk voor mij, dat er bij\nde matrozen kleederen schier drie dozijn hemden waren. Er waren ook\nverscheidene dikke buizen van de matrozen, maar deze waren te warm om te\ndragen, en hoewel het luchtgestel zoo geweldig heet was, dat men geene\nkleederen behoefde, kon ik toch niet geheel naakt gaan, al had ik er\nlust toe gehad, hetgeen in 't geheel het geval niet was, want ik kon,\nofschoon ik geheel alleen was, het denkbeeld er van niet verdragen.\nEene reden, waarom ik niet geheel naakt kon gaan, was, dat ik geheel\nnaakt, niet zoo goed de zonnehitte verdragen kon, als wanneer ik eenige\nkleederen aan had; want de zon verschroeide letterlijk mijne huid,\nterwijl, als ik een hemd aan had, de wind mij eenige koelte gaf, door\nonder hetzelve te spelen. Even min kon ik het zoo ver brengen, dat ik\nzonder een hoed of muts in de zon liep; want dadelijk zou de zonnehitte\nmij hoofdpijn gegeven hebben, als de zonnestralen zoo regt op mijn hoofd\nvielen, terwijl ik door het dragen van een hoed of muts hiervoor bewaard\nwerd.\nTe dien einde besloot ik eens schouwing te houden van al de lappen, die\nik over had, en die ik mijne garderobe noemde. Al mijne kamizolen waren\nversleten, ik trachtte dus anderen te maken van de groote jassen, die ik\nhad. Ik ging dus aan het kleedermaken of liever lappen. Het ging echter\nnog al dragelijk; maar de broeken, die ik alstoen maakte, zagen er\njammerlijk uit.\nIk heb reeds gezegd, dat ik de huiden van al de viervoetige beesten, die\nik gedood had, had bewaard, en die met eenige stokken in de zon\nuitgespannen, waardoor sommigen zoo hard geworden waren, dat zij\ngenoegzaam onbruikbaar waren; van anderen echter had ik veel nut. Het\neerste wat ik van deze maakte was eene groote muts met het haar naar\nbuiten, opdat de regen er langs zou loopen. Dit ging zoo goed, dat ik\neen geheel stel kleederen van deze huiden maakte, namelijk eene buis en\nbroek, aan de knie\u00ebn open en zeer ruim, want zij moesten mij eer koel\nhouden dan verwarmen. Ik moet bekennen, dat zij er jammerlijk uitzagen\nen dat, ofschoon een slechte timmerman, ik nog tienmaal slechter snijder\nwas. Echter kwamen zij mij zeer goed te stade, en als ik in den regen\nliep, bleef ik volkomen droog, omdat er geen regen doordrong.\nDaarna besteedde ik veel tijd en arbeid, om mij een zonnescherm te\nmaken; ik had er een hoog noodig en verlangde er zeer naar. Ik had ze te\nBrazili\u00eb gezien, waar zij bij de zware hitte zeer nuttig zijn; en hier,\nnog digter bij de evennachtslijn, was de hitte zelfs nog heviger.\nBovendien was zulk een scherm voor mij even nuttig voor den regen als\nvoor de zon. Ik gaf mij ontzettende moeite, en het duurde lang voor ik\niets maken kon, dat opstond. Toen ik eindelijk dacht er achter te zijn,\nmislukten er nog twee of drie, maar eindelijk had ik er een die tamelijk\nnaar mijn zin was. De grootste moeijelijkheid was om te maken, dat het\nne\u00ear sloeg. Ik kon er wel een maken dat opgezet kon worden, maar als ik\ndit niet kon ne\u00ear doen, had ik het altijd boven mijn hoofd moeten dragen\nen dat ging niet. Eindelijk echter maakte ik een goed, en bedekte het\nmet huiden, met het haar naar buiten, zoo dat de regen er goed afliep;\nen het weerde de zon zoo goed af, dat ik thans veel beter in het warmste\nweder dan vroeger in het koelste kon uitgaan. Als ik mijn scherm niet\nnoodig had, droeg ik het toegeslagen onder mijn arm.\nAldus leefde ik zeer rustig, mijn geest was zeer bedaard, doordien ik\nmij geheel aan Gods wil onderworpen en aan zijne voorzienigheid\ntoevertrouwd had. Hierdoor leefde ik beter dan in de maatschappij, want\nals ik naar verkeering met menschen verlangde, dan vroeg ik mij zelven\naf, of aldus met mij zelven en naar ik hoopte, in mijne gebeden, met\nmijnen Schepper te verkeeren, niet beter was dan de grootste genietingen\nvan den omgang met anderen in de wereld?\nIk kan niet zeggen, dat mij na dien tijd, vijf jaren lang, iets\nbuitengewoons gebeurde, ik leefde op dezelfde wijze en op dezelfde\nplaats voort. Hoofdzakelijk hield ik mij bezig, behalve met mijn\njaarlijkschen arbeid van graan en rijst te teelen, en van mijne druiven\nte droogen, waarvan ik altijd voor een jaar in voorraad had; ik zeg\nbehalve dezen arbeid en mijn dagelijks uitgaan met mijn geweer, had ik\nondernomen eene kanoe te maken, die ik ten laatste voltooid had; zoodat\nik, door er een kanaal van zes voet wijd en vier voet diep voor te\ndelven, die eene halve mijl ver, in de kreek bragt. De eerste kanoe was,\ngelijk ik gezegd heb, zoo groot, dat ik die niet naar het water, en het\nwater evenmin naar de kanoe kon brengen; dus lag zij daar als eene\nherinnering voor mij, om in het vervolg verstandiger te werk te gaan.\nDen volgenden keer dan ook, schoon ik er geen geschikten boom toe vinden\nkon, en het op eene plek was, waar het water eene halve (Eng.) mijl ver\nmoest gebragt worden, gaf ik het echter geenszins op, zoodra ik zag dat\nhet uitvoerbaar was, en schoon ik er bijkans twee jaren aan bezig was,\nverdroot mij deze arbeid nimmer, omdat ik hoop had van eindelijk eene\nboot te verkrijgen, waarmede ik naar zee zou kunnen gaan.\nToen echter eindelijk mijne kleine praauw voltooid was, beantwoordde\nhare grootte echter volstrekt niet aan het doel, dat ik beoogde toen ik\nde groote maakte; ik meen van er mede naar het vaste land over te\nsteken, waar dit ongeveer veertig (Eng.) mijlen ver af lag. De kleinte\nvan mijn boot droeg er ook toe bij, aan dat voornemen een einde te\nmaken, en eindelijk dacht ik er niet meer aan. Maar daar ik nu eene boot\nhad, vatte ik thans het voornemen op eene reis rondom mijn eiland te\nmaken. Ik was, gelijk ik verhaald heb, toen ik het eiland dwars\ndoorgetrokken was, op eene plaats aan de andere zijde geweest, en mijne\nop dien togt gemaakte ontdekkingen maakten mij zeer verlangend ook de\nandere deelen der kust te zien, en nu ik eene boot had, maalde het\ndenkbeeld van het eiland rond te varen, mij den geheelen dag door het\nhoofd.\nTe dien einde, en om alles met beleid en bezadigdheid te doen,\nvervaardigde ik een mastje voor mijne boot, en maakte er een zeil voor,\nuit sommige stukken van scheepszeilen, die in groote menigte, in mijne\nvoorraadschuur lagen.\nToen de mast en het zeil gereed waren, beproefde ik de boot, en vond dat\nzij zeer goed zeilde. Toen maakte ik kleine kasten of bergplaatsen van\nvoren en achteren in mijne boot, om er leeftogt, kruid, lood en andere\nnoodwendigheden in droog te houden, hetzij voor regen of voor het schuim\nder zee, en aan de binnenzijde maakte ik eene lange geul, waarin ik mijn\ngeweer kon leggen, met eene klep er over heen, om het droog te houden.\nIk maakte mijn zonnescherm van achteren vast in de boot, zoodat het\novereind stond, boven mijn hoofd, en mij even als eene zonnetent voor de\nhitte beschermde. Op deze wijze deed ik nu en dan een togtje naar zee,\nmaar ging nimmer diep in zee, of ver van de kleine kreek. Eindelijk\nechter verlangde ik zoo, om den omtrek van mijn koningrijkje te bezien,\ndat ik de reis rondom hetzelve besloot te ondernemen. Diensvolgens\nrustte ik mijn scheepje uit voor de reis. Ik deed er in twee brooden, of\nliever koeken, van mijn meel gebakken, eene aarden pot vol gepelde\nrijst, (een voedsel dat ik veel gebruikte) een klein fleschje rum, eene\nhalve geit en kruid en lood om er meer te schieten; en twee grove\njassen, die ik, gelijk ik gezegd heb, uit de matrozenkisten gered had.\nDeze laatste dienden, de een om op te liggen, de ander om mij des nachts\nte bedekken.\nHet was den 6 November, in het zesde jaar mijner regering of van mijne\ngevangenschap, zoo als men het noemen wil, dat ik op deze reis onderzeil\nging. Ik vond dat de reis veel verder was dan ik verwacht had, want\nschoon het eiland op zich zelf niet zoo groot was, vond ik, toen ik aan\nde oostzijde kwam, een groot rif van klippen, dat zich ongeveer twee\nmijlen ver in zee uitstrekte, sommige waren boven water, andere blind;\nen achter deze strekte eene drooge zandbank zich nog eene mijl verder\nuit, zoodat ik verpligt was een groot eind in zee te steken, om deze\nkaap te omzeilen.\nToen ik dit rif het eerst ontdekte, stond ik op het punt, mijne\nonderneming op te geven en terug te keeren, daar ik niet wist hoe ver ik\ngenoodzaakt zou zijn in zee te gaan, en bovenal hoe ik zou terugkeeren,\ndus ging ik voor anker liggen, want ik had van eene gebroken dreg, die\nik uit het schip gehaald had, eene soort van anker gemaakt. Na mijne\nboot goed vastgelegd te hebben, nam ik mijn geweer en stapte aan land,\nwaar ik op een heuvel klom, van welken ik dacht die kaap te kunnen\noverzien, en waar ik hare geheele uitgestrektheid waarnam, en besloot\nhet te wagen.\nToen ik van den heuvel, waarop ik stond, de zee overzag, bespeurde ik\neene sterke, ja eene allergeweldigste strooming, die oostelijk liep, en\nzelfs digt langs het rif heen; en ik nam dit te naauwkeuriger op, omdat\nik inzag dat er eenig gevaar bestond, dat als ik in deze strooming\ngeraakte, ik door hare hevigheid zeewaarts kon gesleept worden, zonder\ndat ik het eiland weder zou kunnen bereiken. En waarlijk, als ik niet\neerst op den heuvel was geklommen, geloof ik, dat dit ook zou gebeurd\nzijn, want aan de andere zijde was dezelfde strooming, behalve, dat die\nop een verderen afstand liep, en digt onder de kust liep eene sterke\ntegenstrooming, zoo dat ik niets te doen had dan slechts buiten de\neerste strooming te blijven, en ik zou ongetwijfeld naar de kust\nteruggevoerd worden.\nIk bleef echter twee dagen voor anker liggen, omdat de wind, die vrij\nstevig was (uit het O.Z.O., en dus juist tegen de gezegde strooming\ninblies) op dat punt eene zware branding maakte, zoo dat het uithoofde\nvan de branding niet veilig voor mij was, al te digt bij de kust te\nhouden, en niet al te ver af, uithoofde van de strooming.\nDen derden dag was des morgens de zee stil, daar de wind gedurende den\nnacht was gaan liggen, en ik waagde den togt; maar het volgende is eene\nles voor alle onbedreven loodsen. Naauwelijks was ik aan het rif, zelfs\nnog geen bootslengte van den wal, of ik bevond mij in zeer diep water,\nen eene strooming, die als een molensluis liep. Deze sleepte mijne boot\nmet zoo veel geweld mede, dat ik, wat ik ook deed, haar niet aan den\nrand der strooming kon houden, maar zij mij, naar ik bemerkte, al verder\nen verder van de tegenstrooming, die aan mijne linkerhand was,\nafsleepte. Er was geen wind genoeg om mij te helpen, en wat ik met mijne\nriemen doen kon beteekende niets. Ik begon mij thans verloren te achten,\nwant daar de strooming aan beide kanten van het eiland was, wist ik dat\nzij op weinige mijlen afstands met elkander zamentreffen moesten, en dan\nwas ik onherstelbaar verloren. Ik zag ook geene mogelijkheid het te\nvermijden, zoodat ik niets voor oogen had dan den dood, niet van de zee,\nwant die was kalm genoeg, maar van den dood door honger. Ik had wel is\nwaar, eene schildpad, zoo groot als ik maar optillen kon, aan het strand\ngevonden, en in de boot geworpen, en ik had eene groote kruik met zoet\nwater, dat is te zeggen een van mijne gebakken potten; maar wat zou mij\ndit baten als ik in den uitgestrekten Oceaan gedreven werd, waar op\nmisschien duizend mijlen afstands, geene kust, geen vast land of eiland\nwas.\nEn nu zag ik, hoe gemakkelijk de Goddelijke Voorzienigheid den\nrampzaligsten toestand, waarin zich iemand bevindt, nog veel erger kan\nmaken. Nu zag ik naar mijn eenzaam eiland uit, als naar de aangenaamste\nplaats der wereld, en het grootste geluk, waarnaar ik wenschen kon, was,\ndat ik daar maar weder zijn mogt. Verlangend strekte ik er de handen\nnaar uit. \"O, gelukkig oord,\" zeide ik, \"ik zal u nimmer wederzien!\nRampzalige, die ik ben, waar ga ik heen?\" Vervolgens verweet ik\nmijzelven mijne ondankbaarheid, en hoe ik over mijn eenzamen toestand\ngetreurd had, en wat ik nu wel niet zou willen geven als ik daar slechts\nweder aan wal was! Zoo zien wij nimmer onzen toestand in het ware licht,\nvoor wij door het tegendeel, er een helderder inzigt in verkrijgen; en\ndatgene wat wij genieten, leeren wij eerst waarderen als wij het moeten\nmissen. Het is naauwelijks mogelijk zich de ontroering te verbeelden,\nwaarin ik mij thans bevond, nu ik van mijn geliefd eiland (zoo\nbeschouwde ik het thans) op den wijden Oceaan was gedreven, schier twee\nmijlen ver, en genoegzaam wanhopende het ooit weder te zullen zien. Ik\nwerkte echter hard, tot mijne kracht genoegzaam uitgeput was, en hield\nmijne boot zooveel noordelijk, dat wil zeggen naar den kant der\nstrooming, waar de tegenstrooming lag, als ik bij mogelijkheid kon.\nTegen den middag meende ik een windje in mijn gezigt te voelen, dat uit\nhet Z. Z. O. kwam. Dit beurde mijn moed een weinig op, vooral toen het\neen half uur later eene frissche koelte begon te waaijen. Ik was thans\nop een vreesselijken afstand van het eiland, en als er mistig weder was\nopgekomen, was ik ook verloren geweest, want ik had geen kompas aan\nboord, en zou nooit geweten hebben hoe ik naar het eiland had moeten\nsturen, als ik het eens uit het gezigt had verloren, maar daar het weder\nhelder bleef, zette ik mijn mast weder op en mijn zeil bij, en hield zoo\nveel noordelijk als ik kon, om uit de strooming te geraken.\nJuist toen ik mijn mast en zeil bijgezet had, en er vaart in de boot was\ngekomen, zag ik zelfs aan de helderheid van het water, dat de strooming\neenigzins veranderen moest; want waar de strooming zoo sterk was, was\nhet water dik; maar daar ik hier de zee helder zag, bemerkte ik tevens\ndat de strooming afnam; en thans vond ik tien minuten verder oostelijk,\ndat de zee op eenige klippen brandde; deze rotsen scheidden de strooming\nweder, de voornaamste liep meer zuidelijk, en liet de klippen in het\nnoord-oosten; de tweede, op de klippen stuitende, keerde met eene zware\nstrooming weder naar het N. W. terug.\nHij, die aan den voet van het schavot pardon erlangt, of die onverwachts\nuit de opgeheven dolken van moordenaars gered wordt, kan zich mijne\ntegenwoordige vreugde voorstellen, en hoe gretig ik mijne boot in deze\ntegenstrooming bragt, hoe vrolijk ik, daar de wind ook aanwakkerde, mijn\nzeil bijzette, en aldus door wind en stroom naar het land aanhield. De\nstroom voerde mij omtrent eene mijl naar het land, maar ongeveer twee\nmijlen noordelijker dan de andere strooming, die mij naar zee had\ngebragt. Toen ik dus digt bij het eiland was bevond ik mij aan de\nnoordkust, of vlak de tegenovergestelde zijde van die welke ik verlaten\nhad.\nToen de stroom mij aldus meer dan eene mijl ver had gebragt, vond ik dat\nhij ophield en mij niet verder hielp. Ik vond echter, dat tusschen de\ntwee groote stroomingen, namelijk, die aan de zuidzijde, die mij naar\nzee gedreven had, en die aan de noordzijde, het water ten westen van het\neiland stil en zonder stroom was, en daar de wind nog gunstig was, hield\nik regt op het eiland aan, schoon niet met zoo veel spoed als vroeger.\nTegen vier uren des namiddags, toen ik nog ongeveer eene mijl van het\nland af was, trof ik het einde van het rif aan, dat de oorzaak van mijn\ngevaar was, en zich zuidwaarts uitstrekte, en door de strooming ook dien\nkant heen te brengen, eene tegenstrooming noordwaarts veroorzaakte, die\nzeer sterk, doch niet regt in mijn koers liep, daar ik W. N. W. moest\naanleggen. Met een goeden wind kwam ik echter door deze strooming, en na\nverloop van een uur was ik op een kwartier uurs afstand van het land,\nhetwelk ik, daar het effen water was, spoedig bereikte.\nToen ik aan wal was viel ik op mijne knie\u00ebn, en dankte God voor mijne\nredding, en besloot alle denkbeeld van bevrijding door mijne boot op te\ngeven. Na mijn maaltijd gedaan te hebben met hetgeen ik had, legde ik\nmijne boot vast in een kleinen inham, dien ik onder eenige boomen\nontdekt had, en begaf mij daarop ter rust, daar ik uitgeput was door de\nvermoeijenissen der reis.\nIk was thans zeer in het onzekere, op welke wijze ik met mijne boot naar\nhuis zou keeren. Ik had zoo veel gevaar geloopen, en te veel kennis van\nden toestand, om er aan te denken van den weg te kiezen dien ik gekomen\nwas. Wat er aan de andere zijde (de westzijde) van het eiland was, wist\nik niet, en ik verlangde niet om nieuwe gevaren te loopen; dus besloot\nik in den morgen, mijn weg westwaarts langs het strand voort te zetten,\nen te zien of er geen kreek was, waarin ik mijn vaartuig veilig liggen\nkon, zoo dat ik het weder vinden kon, als ik het begreep noodig te\nachten. Na een uur bijkans langs het strand te hebben gevaren, kwam ik\naan eene zeer goede baai of inham, van ongeveer een vierde uur diep, die\nsteeds naauwer uitliep tot in een kleine beek, waarin ik eene zeer\ngoede ligplaats voor mijne boot vond; alsof zij daar lag in een dok, dat\ndaar opzettelijk voor gemaakt was. Hier legde ik ze vast en ging\nvervolgens aan wal, om te zien waar ik mij bevond.\nSpoedig vond ik, dat ik slechts weinig voorbij de plaats was, waar ik\nvroeger was geweest, toen ik te voet het eiland was doorgetrokken. Ik\nnam dus niets uit mijne boot dan mijn geweer en mijn zonnescherm, want\nhet was bijzonder heet, en ging op marsch. De weg was gemakkelijk\ngenoeg, na eene reis als ik gedaan had, en tegen den avond bereikte ik\nmijne oude buitenplaats, waar ik alles vond zoo als ik het gelaten had,\nwant ik hield mijn landhuis altijd in goede orde.\nIk klom over de heining, en ging in de schaduw uitrusten, waar ik, want\nik was zeer vermoeid, weldra in slaap viel. Maar oordeel, zoo gij kunt,\nlezer, over mijne verrassing, toen ik uit mijnen slaap wakker gemaakt\nwerd, door eene stem, die mij verscheidene malen bij mijn naam riep:\n\"Robinson, Robin, Robinson Crusoe! Arme Robinson Crusoe! Waar zijt gij,\nRobinson Crusoe? Waar zijt gij? Waar zijt gij geweest?\"\nIk was eerst zoo vast in slaap, omdat ik zeer vermoeid was van het\nroeijen of liever pagaaijen, dat ik in het begin van den dag gedaan had,\nen van het wandelen naderhand, dat ik maar half wakker werd, en tusschen\nslapen en waken in, dacht dat ik droomde, dat iemand mij riep. Maar toen\nde stem herhaaldelijk bleef roepen: \"Robin, Robinson Crusoe!\" begon ik\neindelijk volkomen wakker te worden, en was in het allerhevigst\nverschrikt en sprong op in de uiterste ontsteltenis. Maar naauwelijks\nwaren mijne oogen open of ik zag mijn papegaai op den top van de heining\nzitten; en nu wist ik dadelijk dat hij tegen mij gesproken had, want ik\nhad hem geleerd zulke beklagende woorden tegen mij te spreken, en hij\nhad dit zoo volkomen aangeleerd, dat hij dikwijls een uur lang op mijne\nhand zat, met zijn bek vlak tegen mijn gelaat aan, roepende: \"arme\nRobinson Crusoe! Waar zijt gij? Waar zijt gij geweest? Hoe komt gij\nhier?\"\nMaar, ofschoon ik wist dat het de papegaai was, en niemand anders wezen\nkon, duurde het eene geruime poos eer ik weder bedaard was van mijne\nontroering. Eerst stond ik verwonderd hoe de vogel daar gekomen was, en\ndan hoe hij juist daar en nergens anders was gaan zitten. Maar daar ik\nwel overtuigd was dat het mijn papegaai en niemand anders was, hield ik\nmijne hand op en riep hem bij zijn naam. Oogenblikkelijk kwam de\ngezellige vogel op mijn vinger zitten, gelijk hij gewoon was, en bleef\nvoortsnappen: \"arme Robinson! en: Hoe zijt gij hier gekomen? Waar zijt\ngij geweest?\" alsof hij blijde was dat hij mij weder zag, en zoo bragt\nik hem naar huis terug.\nIk was nu voor eenigen tijd verzadigd van togtjes op zee, en had\nverscheidene dagen genoeg te doen met te bedenken in welk gevaar ik\ngeweest was. Het zou mij zeer aangenaam geweest zijn als ik mijne boot\nweder aan de andere zijde van het eiland had gehad, waar ik woonde; maar\nik wist niet hoe ik haar daar zou brengen. Ik kende de oostzijde van het\neiland, langs welke ik gekomen was, thans te goed, om niet te weten dat\nik niet wagen kon, dien weg te nemen; mijn bloed verstijfde in mijne\naderen als ik er slechts aan dacht. Hoe het aan den anderen kant van het\neiland was, wist ik niet, maar onderstellende, dat daar de stroom even\nhevig oostelijk tegen de kust aanliep, zou ik hetzelfde gevaar loopen\nvan door den stroom medegesleept en tegen het eiland geworpen te worden,\nals ik vroeger geloopen had van er afgesleept te worden. Deze gedachten\ndeden mij tevreden zijn zonder boot, schoon ik zooveel maanden had\ngewerkt om er eene te maken, en nog zoovele maanden om die te water te\nbrengen.\nIn deze gemoedsgesteldheid bleef ik bijkans een jaar, een zeer rustig\nleven leidende, gelijk men denken kan, en daar ik thans met mijn\ntoestand verzoend was en mij geheel aan den wil der Voorzienigheid\nonderworpen had, begreep ik dat ik in alle opzigten zeer gelukkig\nleefde, behalve in het gemis aan gezelschap. Ik maakte mij in dien tijd\nbekwamer in al die werktuigkundige verrigtingen, waartoe de nood mij\ndwong, en ik geloof dat ik thans een zeer goed timmerman mogt heeten;\nvooral als men in het oog houdt hoe weinig gereedschappen ik had.\nBovendien bragt ik eene onverwachte verbetering in mijn aardenwerk te\nweeg; hetgeen ik thans met een rad vervaardigde, dat ik oneindig beter\nen gemakkelijker vond, daar ik thans de voorwerpen rond en van een\ngoeden vorm maken kon, terwijl het vroeger leelijke, onbehouwen dingen\nwaren. Maar ik geloof niet dat ik ooit hoovaardiger was op iets wat ik\nvervaardigd heb, of mij meer over eenige uitvinding verheugd, dan toen\nik in staat was eene tabakspijp te maken, en schoon het een leelijk\nwanschapen ding, en even als mijne andere potten roodgebakken was, was\nik er toch zeer mede verheugd, want zij was hard en vast en ik kon er\nuit rooken. Ik was dit altoos gewoon geweest, en er waren ook pijpen aan\nboord van het schip geweest, maar ik had die eerst laten liggen, omdat\nik niet wist dat er tabak op het eiland was, en toen ik naderhand het\nschip weder doorzocht, kon ik ze niet terugvinden.\nOok vermeerderde ik mijn voorraad van mandewerk, en maakte eene menigte\nmanden, zoo goed ik ze bedenken kon. Schoon niet zeer fraai, waren zij\ntoch zeer handig en gemakkelijk, om er goederen in te bewaren, of die\nnaar huis te dragen. Als ik bij voorbeeld, eene geit geschoten had, kon\nik die aan eenen boom hangen, afhalen, aan stukken snijden, en dan in\neene mand naar huis dragen, en even zoo als ik eene schildpad aantrof,\nkon ik die opensnijden, de eijeren er uithalen, met een paar stukken\nvleesch, waaraan ik genoeg had, en dragen dit alles in eene mand naar\nhuis. Ook bewaarde ik mijn koorn in groote diepe manden; ik wreef dit\naltijd uit de airen zoodra het droog was, en bergde het dan in de\nmanden.\nIk begon thans te bemerken dat mijn buskruid zeer verminderde, en dat ik\ndit gebrek nimmer zou kunnen aanvullen. Ik begon er ernstig over na te\ndenken, wat te doen als ik geen kruid meer zou hebben, namelijk hoe ik\ndan van tijd tot tijd eene geit zou dooden. Ik had, gelijk ik verhaald\nheb, in het derde jaar van mijn verblijf een jong geitje gevangen en tam\ngemaakt. Ik had altijd gehoopt er een bok bij te zullen bekomen; maar\ndit mogt mij nimmer gelukken. Eindelijk werd mijne geit oud, en ik kon\nhet nimmer van mij verkrijgen haar te slagten, totdat zij ten laatste\nvan ouderdom stierf.\nNu ik echter in het elfde jaar van mijn verblijf was, en mijn kruid\ngelijk ik zeide, sterk verminderde, begon ik mij te bedenken op een\nstrik of val, om te zien of ik niet eenige geiten levende zou kunnen\nvangen, vooral eene geit met jongen wenschte ik. Ik maakte te dien einde\nstrikken, en ik geloof dat zij er meermalen in verward raakten, maar\ndaar zij niet zeer sterk waren, omdat het mij aan koord ontbrak, vond ik\nze altijd aan stukken en het aas opgegeten. Eindelijk besloot ik het met\nvallen te beproeven; ik delfde dus verscheidene kuilen, op plaatsen waar\nik opgemerkt had dat de geiten gewoonlijk kwamen weiden, en op deze\nkuilen plaatste ik horden, van mijn eigen maaksel ook, met eene groote\nzwaarte er op, en verscheidene malen plaatste ik hoopjes graan en\ndrooge rijst er op, zonder den val te zetten, en ik kon gemakkelijk zien\naan het spoor harer pooten dat de geiten er in geweest waren en het\ngraan opgegeten hadden. Eindelijk zette ik drie vallen op eenen nacht,\nen toen ik er den volgenden morgen bij kwam, vond ik ze allen staan, en\ntoch was het aas opgegeten en weg. Dit was ontmoedigend, doch ik\nveranderde mijne vallen, en om kort te gaan, toen ik er op een morgen\nnaar ging zien, vond ik in een kuil een ouden bok, en in een anderen\ntwee geiten en een bokje.\nWat ik met den ouden bok zou aanvangen, wist ik niet; hij was zoo woest\ndat ik niet bij hem in den kuil dorst gaan; dat wil zeggen om er hem\nlevend uit te halen, hetgeen eigenlijk mijne bedoeling was. Ik had hem\nkunnen doodschieten, maar dat zou mij niet gebaat hebben; dus liet ik\nhem er uit en hij liep weg als of hij dol was; maar ik wist toen niet,\nhetgeen ik naderhand leerde dat honger zelfs een leeuw kan temmen. Als\nik hem daar drie of vier dagen zonder voedsel had gelaten, en hem dan\neenig water om te drinken en eenig graan had gebragt, zou hij zoo tam\nals een geitje geweest zijn, want dit waren zeer scherpzinnige en makke\ndieren, als men ze goed behandelde.\nIk liet hem dus voor het tegenwoordige gaan, daar ik toen niets beters\nwist te doen; daarop ging ik naar de drie geiten, en bond die een voor\neen met strikken vast en bragt ze niet zonder moeite naar huis. Het\nduurde lang voor zij wilden eten, maar door haar eenig rijp graan voor\nte werpen haalde ik ze er toe over en zij begonnen tam te worden. En nu\nbegreep ik dat als ik mij zelven met geitenvleesch wilde voeden, wanneer\nmijn kruid en lood op zou zijn, het eenigste middel hiertoe was eenige\ntamme aan te fokken, wanneer ik ze misschien, als eene schaapskudde\nrondom mijne woning zou kunnen laten weiden.\nIk begreep echter daarbij dat ik de tammen van de wilden moest\nafgescheiden houden, want anders zouden zij onder het opgroeijen altijd\nwild worden. De eenigste weg hiertoe was het afperken van een stuk lands\nmet een heining of met paalwerk, ten einde zij zoodanig afgesloten\nwaren, dat die er binnen waren er niet uit, en die er buiten waren er\nniet in konden komen. Dit was eene groote onderneming voor iemand met\nslechts twee handen. Daar ik er echter de volstrekte noodzakelijkheid\nvan inzag, was mijn eerste werk eene geschikte plek grond te vinden,\nnamelijk waar waarschijnlijk gras voor haar om te eten, water om te\ndrinken, en beschutting voor de zonnehitte zou zijn.\nDegenen, die van dergelijke inrigtingen verstand hebben, zullen zeggen\ndat ik zeer weinig inzigt van de zaak had, toen ik als eene allezins\ngeschikte plek eene opene vlakke weide uitkoos, met twee of drie beekjes\nvan loopend water, en dat aan het eene einde met boomen bezet was. Zij\nzullen over mijn voornemen lagchen als ik zeg, dat ik dit stuk grond,\nzoodanig begon te omheinen, dat mijn heining of paalwerk ongeveer twee\n(Eng.) mijlen groot zou worden. De dwaasheid bestond niet in den omtrek,\nwant al was die tien mijlen geweest, zou ik waarschijnlijk tijd genoeg\ngehad hebben om het in te doen, maar ik bedacht niet, dat mijne geiten\nin zulk eene groote ruimte even wild zouden zijn, als of zij het geheele\neiland voor zich hadden; en ik zou zooveel ruimte hebben om haar in te\njagen dat ik ze er waarschijnlijk nooit zou kunnen vangen.\nToen ik met mijne heining ongeveer vijftig ellen gevorderd was, kwam dat\ndenkbeeld het eerst bij mij op en deed mij dadelijk mijn werk staken. Ik\nbesloot daarop vooreerst een stuk af te perken van honderd en vijftig el\nlang, en honderd el breed, hetwelk voor 's hands genoeg was ter voeding\nvan degeen, die ik vooreerst zou hebben, en als mijne kudde\nvermeerderde, kon ik altijd meer grond afperken. Dit was verstandiger\noverlegd en ik ging met ijver aan het werk. Ik had ongeveer drie maanden\nwerk er aan, en in dien tijd bond ik de drie geiten op de beste plek er\nin vast en gewende ze zoo digt bij mij te grazen als mogelijk, om ze mak\nte maken. Ik ging er dikwijls heen met eene hand vol graan of rijst en\nliet ze uit mijne hand eten, zoodat toen mijne heining af was, en ik ze\nlos liet, zij mij blatende achterna liepen, om een handvol koorn.\nDit was juist wat ik verlangde, en in anderhalf jaar had ik eene kudde\nvan twaalf geiten, de jongen medegerekend, en twee jaren daarna had ik\ner drie\u00ebnveertig, behalve verscheidene, die ik geslagt en opgegeten had,\nen na dien tijd perkte ik vijf verschillende stukken gronds af, met\nsmalle doorgangen om haar in te drijven en te vangen als ik ze noodig\nhad, of van het eene perk in het andere wilde drijven. Doch dit was niet\nalles, want niet alleen dat ik nu als ik het verlangde geitenvleesch\nhad, maar ik had ook melk, iets waaraan ik in den beginne zelfs niet\ngedacht had, en dat later mij eene aangename verrassing was, want ik had\nsoms tien of twaalf pinten melk per dag; en daar de natuur als zij ons\niets schenkt, ons gewoonlijk het ook leert gebruiken, zoo bragt ik het\neindelijk zoo ver, hoewel ik nimmer eene koe of geit gemolken had, noch\nboter of kaas ooit had zien maken, dat ik, schoon na vele mislukte\nproeven, eindelijk boter en kaas maakte, en er naderhand nimmer gebrek\naan had. Hoe genadig kan toch onze Schepper zijne schepselen behandelen,\nzelfs in omstandigheden, in welke zij door de onoverkomelijkste rampen\ngetroffen schijnen! Hoe kan Hij onzen bittersten toestand verzachten, en\nons reden geven Hem zelfs in den diepsten kerker te loven! Welk eene\ntafel was thans voor mij gespreid in eene wildernis, waarin ik in den\nbeginne niets dan den hongerdood voor oogen zag!\nDe ernstigste mensch zou gelagchen hebben, als hij mij met mijn\nhuisgezin aan tafel had zien zitten. In de eerste plaats was er zijne\nmajesteit, de onbeperkte gebieder van het geheele eiland, de heer over\nleven en dood van alle schepselen daarop. Ik kon al mijne onderdanen\ngevangen zetten, ter dood brengen of genade schenken, naar ik zulks goed\nvond, en ik had voor geene rebellie onder hen te vreezen. Ik at, als een\nkoning, geheel alleen, omringd door al mijne dienaren! Mijn papegaai,\nals mijn gunsteling, had alleen het regt tot mij het woord te voeren;\nmijn hond, die nu oud en afgeleefd was, en zijn geslacht niet had kunnen\nvoortplanten, zat altijd aan mijne regterhand, en twee katten, een aan\nweerszijden van de tafel, verwachtten nu en dan een stuk uit mijne hand,\nals een blijk van hooge gunst. Het waren echter niet de twee katten, die\nik van boord had medegebragt, deze waren beide gestorven, en door mij\ndigt bij mijne woning begraven; het waren afstammelingen van eene van\nhaar, met eene soort van wilde kat, naar ik denk. Dit waren de eenigste,\ndie ik tam gehouden had, de overigen zworven wild in de bosschen, en\nwaren mij geweldig lastig, want zij kwamen dikwijls in mijn huis alles\nwegstelen; eindelijk schoot ik er eene menigte dood, waarna de overigen\nmij van haar bezoek verschoonden. Aldus leefde ik in overvloed zonder\ndat ik zeggen kon iets te missen dan gezelschap, en dat ontving ik\neenigen tijd later meer dan mij lief was.\nIk verlangde dikwijls, gelijk ik vroeger zeide, mijne boot weder tot\nmijn gebruik te hebben, maar ik had weinig lust, de vorige gevaren te\nwagen; en dus zat ik somwijlen op middelen te denken om haar aan deze\nzijde van het eiland te brengen, en op een anderen tijd was ik weder\nzonder haar tevreden. Ik verlangde echter zeer dat gedeelte van het\neiland te zien, waar ik bij mijn laatste reis op den heuvel klom, om te\nzien hoe het strand en de strooming liep. Alle dagen werd dit verlangen\nsterker, en eindelijk besloot ik te land daarheen te trekken, en ik deed\ndit langs het strand. Maar zoo iemand in Engeland een mensch ontmoet\nhad, zoo uitgerust als ik, zou hij doodelijk verschrikt, of in lagchen\nuitgebarsten zijn. Ik lachte dikwijls als ik mij zelf bezag, en dacht\nhoe men zou opzien als ik zoo eens door Yorkshire trok. Luister slechts\nhoe ik er uitzag.\nIk had eene groote, hooge, onbehouwen muts op, van geitenvellen, met een\nklep van achteren, zoowel voor het branden van de zon, als omdat de\nregen niet in mijn hals zou loopen, want in dit klimaat is niets\nnadeeliger dan dat de regen onder iemands kleederen en op de huid komt.\nIk droeg eene korte buis van geitenvellen die mij tot halverwege de\nknie\u00ebn kwam, en een broek, die tot over de knie\u00ebn hing, van de huid van\neen ouden bok gemaakt, wiens haar zoolang was dat het mij tot aan den\nvoet reikte. Ik had geen kousen of schoenen, maar een paar laarzen\ngemaakt, die ik om mijne beenen sloeg en vastreeg, maar van een\nallerleelijkst maaksel, gelijk eigenlijk mijne geheele kleeding was.\nIk had een breeden gordel van gedroogd geitenvel, dien ik met een paar\nriempjes zamenbond, en aan we\u00earszijden daarvan, in plaats van een\nponjaard of dolk, aan den eenen kant eene zaag, aan den anderen eene\nbijl hangen. Nog een andere band, maar zoo breed niet, hing over mijn\nschouder, en onder aan denzelven, onder mijn linkerarm, hingen een paar\nzakjes, ook van geitenvel gemaakt; in het eene was kruid, in het andere\nhagel. Op mijn rug droeg ik eene mand, op mijn schouder een geweer, en\nboven mijn hoofd, een groot, leelijk, vuil, geitenvellen zonnescherm,\ndat ik na mijn geweer het allerminst missen kon. Mijn gelaat was echter\nniet zoo bruin als men wel had kunnen verwachten van iemand, die zich\nnooit daarvoor in acht genomen en tien of twaalf jaren tusschen de\nkeerkringen geleefd had. Mijn baard had ik eens meer dan een voet lang\nlaten groeijen; maar daar ik genoeg scharen en scheermessen had, hield\nik dien gewoonlijk kort, met uitzondering van een paar knevels, zoo als\nik eenige Turken te Sal\u00e9 heb zien dragen, (want de Mooren deden dit\nnooit). Deze knevels waren wel niet lang genoeg om mijne muts aan te\nhangen, maar zouden toch in Engeland monsterachtig genoemd zijn\ngeworden.\nDoch dit is in het voorbijgaan, ik werd door niemand gezien, en sloeg er\ndus ook weinig acht op hoe ik er uitzag. Ik zal dus hierover in het\nvervolg zwijgen. Aldus uitgerust ging ik op reis, en bleef vijf of zes\ndagen uit. Ik trok eerst het strand langs, regt naar de plaats waar ik\nmet mijne boot geankerd had, om op de klippen te klimmen, en daar ik nu\nvoor geene boot behoefde te zorgen, ging ik over land een nader weg,\nnaar dezelfde hoogte waarop ik vroeger geweest was, toen ik naar het rif\nuitzag, dat ik omzeilen moest. Daar zag ik tot mijne verbazing, dat de\nzee geheel effen en kalm was, er was noch rimpeling, noch beweging noch\nstrooming, niets meer dan op andere plaatsen. Ik begreep dit niet, en\nbesloot eenigen tijd te besteden om hiervan de oorzaak te ontdekken, en\nweldra zag ik die, namelijk dat de eb, die uit het westen opkwam, en\nzich met de uitstrooming van eene groote rivier op de kust vereenigde,\nde oorzaak dezer strooming was, en dat naar gelang de wind meer\nwestelijk of noordelijk was, zij digter of verder van de kust af was.\nDuidelijk zag ik ook de strooming weder toen de eb doorkwam, behalve,\ndat zij bijkans een vierde mijl van het strand liep, terwijl zij vroeger\nlangs de kust loopende, mij medegesleept had, hetgeen op een ander tijd\nniet zou gebeurd zijn.\nDit overtuigde mij, dat als ik slechts op eb en vloed acht gaf, ik mijne\nboot zeer gemakkelijk weder aan het ander einde van het eiland kon\nbrengen; maar als ik om de uitvoering dacht, werd ik weder zoo beangst\nbij de herdenking van het gevaar, waarin ik geweest was, dat ik het niet\nondernemen durfde. Ik besloot dus eene veiliger maar moeijelijker partij\nte kiezen, namelijk van eene andere kanoe of praauw te maken, ten einde\naan iedere zijde van het eiland een vaartuig te hebben.\nMen moet in het oog houden, dat ik nu als het ware, twee plantaadjen op\nhet eiland had. De eerste was mijne tent of kasteel, met het paalwerk er\nomheen, en de kelder er achter, onder de rots, welken laatsten ik in\nverschillende kelders had afgeschoten. De eene, die de grootste en\ndroogste was, die een uitgang had buiten mijn muur, namelijk waar die\naan de rots stiet, stond vol met groote aarden potten en met veertien of\nvijftien groote manden, waarin ik mijn koorn en rijst bewaarde.\nDe muur had ik, gelijk ik gezegd heb, met takken omzet, die allen tot\nboomen opgroeiden, en thans zoo zwaar geworden waren, dat niemand daar\ndoor heen mijne woning had kunnen ontdekken. Nabij deze woning, doch een\nweinig meer landwaarts in en in lager grond, lagen mijne twee\ngraanakkers, die ik behoorlijk bebouwde, en die mij jaarlijks goeden\noogst opleverden. Als ik meer graan had willen hebben, had ik geschikte\nstukken grond, daarnevens liggen.\nBovendien had ik mijne buitenplaats, en daar thans ook eene tamelijke\nplantaadje. Vooreerst had ik mijn pri\u00ebel, gelijk ik het noemde, dat uit\neene ronde heining bestond, die ik altijd op dezelfde hoogte hield, met\neene ladder in het midden. Ik hield de boomen, waaruit het bestond,\naltijd zoo, dat zij zich wijd uitspreidden en eene alleraangenaamste\nschaduw opleverden. Midden hierin stond mijne tent, een stuk zeildoek\nover palen uitgespreid, en die nimmer eenig herstel noodig had, en\nhieronder had ik eene legerstede van dierenhuiden gemaakt, met eene\ndeken en een jas, beide uit het schip gered. Als ik gelegenheid had mij\nvan mijne woning te verwijderen, dan ging ik mijne buitenplaats\nbetrekken.\nBovendien had ik verscheidene afperkingen voor mijne kudde geiten. Het\nmaken daarvan had mij ontzettende moeite gekost, zoodat ik altijd\nvreesde, dat de geiten er eens mogten doorbreken, en ik had geen rust,\nvoordat ik eene zoo groote menigte kleine stekken er bijgezet had, dat\nhet veeleer palissaden dan eene heining geleek, en toen naderhand in het\nregensaisoen deze stekken wortel schoten, maakte dit de omheining\nsterker dan een muur had kunnen zijn.\nHieruit ziet men, dat ik niet ledig was, en geene moeite spaarde voor\nhetgeen tot mijn onderhoud noodig was, want ik begreep, dat het\naanfokken van tamme dieren, voor mij een levend magazijn van vleesch,\nmelk, boter en kaas zou zijn, al moest ik hier ook nog veertig jaren\nleven. Dit hing echter geheel af van de sterkte der omheining, die ik nu\nook zoo sterk had gemaakt, dat ik van de opgroeijende staken naderhand\neenigen moest rooijen.\nHier groeiden ook mijne druiven, die mij mijn voorraad van rozijnen voor\nden winter leverden; en die ik allerzorgvuldigst bewaarde als mijne\naangenaamste spijs. Zij waren niet alleen lekker, maar allergezondst,\nvoedzaamst en verkwikkend. Daar deze plaats ook halfweg was tusschen\nmijne woning en de plaats waar mijne boot lag, kwam ik hier dikwijls,\nwant ik bezocht mijne boot menigwerf, en hield die, met alles wat er bij\nbehoorde, in goede orde. Somtijds ging ik er mede varen, maar geen\ngevaarlijke togten, geen twee steenworpen ging ik van de kust af, zoo\nvreesde ik door onbekende stroomingen, den wind of andere toevallen,\nweder weggeslagen te worden. Doch thans kom ik tot een ander tooneel van\nmijn leven.\nOp zekeren dag, tegen den middag, ging ik naar mijne boot, maar stond\nniet weinig verbaasd, toen ik duidelijk op het zand den indruk van een\nnaakten menschenvoet zag. Ik stond als van den donder getroffen, of als\nof ik een geest gezien had. Ik luisterde, ik zag in het rond, maar\nhoorde noch zag niets. Ik ging op eene hoogte om verder te kunnen zien,\nik ging het strand op en neder, maar zag geen anderen indruk dan dien\nenkelen. Weer ging ik er heen om te zien, of er ook meer waren, of dat\nhet bloot verbeelding van mij was; maar het was de volmaaktste indruk\nvan een voet, de teenen, de hiel en alles; hoe dit daar kwam kon ik\nvolstrekt niet begrijpen. Maar na ontelbare gissingen, ging ik geheel\nverward en buiten mij zelven naar huis terug; zonder dat ik, gelijk men\nzegt, den grond onder mijne voeten voelde, terwijl ik bij elke schrede\nomzag, en iederen geknotten boomstam voor een mensch aanzag. Het is niet\nte beschrijven, wat ik mij niet al verbeeldde, en welke uitsporige\ndenkbeelden niet al bij mij opkwamen.\nToen ik aan mijn kasteel kwam, gelijk ik het na dien tijd altijd noemde,\nvloog ik naar binnen alsof ik vervolgd werd, ik weet zelfs niet of ik\nmet de ladder of door het gat in de rots, dat ik mijne deur noemde, er\nin ging, maar nimmer vloog een verschrikte haas of gejaagde vos naar\nzijn hol met meer schrik, dan ik naar mijne schuilplaats. Ik sliep den\ngeheelen nacht niet, en wat zonderling is, mijn angst was heviger\ngeworden, naarmate ik verder van de oorzaak van denzelven verwijderd\nwas. Hoe meer ik er over dacht, des te schrikkelijker beelden stelde\nmijne verbeelding mij voor oogen. Somtijds dacht ik aan den duivel, want\nhoe kon een mensch het gedaan hebben? Waar was het schip, dat hem daar\ngebragt had? Welke sporen waren er nog meer van voetstappen? Hoe kon een\nmensch daar komen? Maar aan den anderen kant was het niet te denken, dat\nde satan de menschelijke gestalte zou aangenomen hebben, alleen om daar\neen indruk van zijn voet achter te laten. Hij had mij op duizend andere\nwijzen kunnen plagen, zonder zoo dom te zijn den voetstap te zetten op\nde andere zijde van het eiland; waar het tienduizend tegen een was, dat\nik hem ooit zien zou, en dat nog wel in het zand, waar de eerste golf,\nbij een hoogen vloed, en harden wind, dien moest uitwisschen. Dit alles\nscheen onbestaanbaar en geheel strijdig met de slimheid, die men den\nduivel toeschrijft.\nEene menigte redenen stelden mij aan dien kant gerust, en ik besloot\neindelijk, dat het een van de wilden van het vasteland aan de overzijde\nmoest geweest zijn, die op zee met hunne kanoe door strooming of\ntegenwind, op het eiland gedreven, maar weder in zee gestoken waren, als\nzijnde welligt even afkeerig van een verblijf daarop, als ik van een\nbezoek van hen.\nToen mij dit inviel, achtte ik mij gelukkig, dat ik te dier tijd daar\nniet geweest was, noch zij mijne boot gezien hadden, wanneer zij\nbegrepen konden hebben, dat het eiland bewoond was, en daarnaar\nonderzocht hebben. Nu vreesde ik, dat zij mijne boot gevonden zouden\nhebben, en in dat geval in groot aantal terugkomen, om mij op te eten;\nen al vonden zij mij niet, zouden zij toch mijne heining en al mijn\ngraan vernielen, mijne kudde stelen, en ik zou ten laatste van honger\nmoeten omkomen.\nAldus verbande de vrees al dat vertrouwen op God, dat gegrond was op de\nvele bewijzen zijner goedheid jegens mij; als of Hij, die mij tot\nhiertoe zoo wonderdadig gespijsd had, niet door zijne magt, ook den mij\ngeschonken voorraad kon beschermen. Ik verweet mij thans mijne luiheid,\ndat ik niet meer koorn had gezaaid, dan ik voor een jaar zou genoeg\nhebben, als of het te veld staande niet door eenig toeval kon te loor\ngaan; en deze bedenking achtte ik zoo gegrond, dat ik besloot in het\nvervolg altijd voor twee of drie jaar koorn in voorraad te hebben, ten\neinde wat er ook gebeuren mogt, niet aan broodgebrek te sterven.\nWelk een raadselachtig wezen is de mensch, en door welke bedekte\nspringveren komen zijne hartstogten in werking? Wat wij heden beminnen,\nzullen wij morgen haten; heden zoeken wij wat wij morgen zullen\nontvlugten. Dit bleek thans ten duidelijkste aan mij. Mijne eenigste\ndroefenis was, dat ik, als het ware, van alle menschelijke gezelschap\nverbannen was, ik die alleen en van het geheele menschdom door den\ngrenzenloozen Oceaan gescheiden, tot een als het ware zwijgend leven\nveroordeeld, die als onwaardig geacht was, om onder de levenden gerekend\nte worden, ik, wien het zien van een mijner natuurgenooten, als een\novergang van den dood tot het leven, als de grootste gunst, die de hemel\nmij schenken kon, buiten mijn eeuwig heil, zou beschouwd hebben; ik\nsidderde thans op het denkbeeld van een mensch te zien, en dacht door\nden grond te zinken voor het zwijgend bewijs, dat een mensch zijn voet\nop het eiland had gezet.\nZoo wuft is ons gemoed, gelijk ik naderhand dikwerf dacht, toen ik van\nmijne eerste verbazing tot mij zelven was gekomen. Ik bedacht toen, dat\ndit de levenswijze was, mij door de oneindig goede Voorzienigheid\nopgelegd, dat ik, die de oogmerken der Almagt niet doorzien kon, niet\ntegen dezelve murmureren mogt; daar de Schepper allezins met Zijn\nschepsel handelen kon gelijk Zijne Alwijsheid goeddacht, en evenzeer\nmij, die Hem zoo dikwerf beleedigd had, naar zijn goedvinden kon\nbestraffen, en dat het mijn pligt was Hem te bidden en mij rustig aan de\nleiding der Voorzienigheid te onderwerpen.\nDeze denkbeelden hielden mij vele uren, dagen, ja zelfs weken en maanden\nbezig, en eene uitwerking van mijne gepeinzen te dier gelegenheid, mag\nik niet onvermeld laten; namelijk, op een morgen vroeg toen ik te bed\nlag, vol gedachten over het gevaar, dat mij van het verschijnen van\nwilden dreigde, was ik zeer bedrukt, waarop mij de woorden der Heilige\nSchrift invielen: \"Roep Mij aan in den dag der benaauwing, en Ik zal u\nverlossen en gij zult Mij verheerlijken.\"\nHierop stapte ik welgemoed ten bedde uit; niet alleen was mijn hart\ngesterkt, maar ik was geleid en bemoedigd om God ernstig om verlossing\nte smeeken. Het is onmogelijk te zeggen, welk eene gerustheid dit mij\nverschafte, en ik was niet meer ne\u00earslagtig, althans te dier tijd niet.\nTe midden van al deze vrees, vermoedens en nagedachten kwam het eens bij\nmij op, dat het alles wel verbeelding van mij zelven kon geweest zijn,\nen dat het mijn eigen voetstap was geweest, dien ik uit de boot komende,\nin het zand had gedrukt. Dit beurde mij wel op, en ik trachtte mij te\noverreden, dat het alles verbeelding was geweest, en mijn eigen\nvoetstap, want ik had even goed langs dien kant van de boot als daar\nnaar toe kunnen gaan. Ik bedacht, dat ik geenszins zeker was, welken weg\nik gegaan was, en dat als het zoo was, ik even zot was geweest, als die\ndwazen, die hun eigen schaduw voor een spook of geest aanzien en\ndaarvoor vreezen.\nAlstoen begon ik wat moed te scheppen en weder uit te gaan. Drie dagen\nen drie nachten had ik mijn kasteel niet verlaten, zoodat ik reeds\ngebrek aan levensmiddelen begon te krijgen. want ik had niets bij mij,\ndan eenige gebakken koeken en wat water. Ook wist ik, dat mijne geiten\ngemolken moesten worden, dat gewoonlijk mijn avonduitspanning was, en\nde arme dieren moesten er veel ongemak van hebben. Ook droogde de melk\nbij eenigen er van schier geheel op, en velen hadden er van geleden. Ik\nbegon dus mij op te beuren met de gedachte, dat ik den afdruk van mijn\neigen voet gezien had, en dus voor mijn eigen schim bang was, en ging\nweder uit om mijne geiten te melken. Maar zoo men mij gezien had, hoe\nvreesachtig ik liep, hoe dikwijls ik omzag, hoe ik nu en dan zelfs op\nhet punt stond mijne mand neder te werpen en op den loop te gaan, zou\niedereen gedacht hebben, dat mijn geweten door het een of ander\nverontrust was, of dat ik, gelijk inderdaad zoo was, kortelings\ndoodelijk verschrikt was. Toen ik echter twee of drie dagen uitgegaan\nwas, en niets had gezien, begon ik wat moediger te worden; en te\nbegrijpen, dat mijne verbeelding, mij dien schrik had veroorzaakt. Ik\nkon echter mij zelven hiervan niet geheel overtuigen, dus besloot ik\nnaar het strand te gaan, om dien voetstap met den mijnen te vergelijken.\nToen ik echter op de plaats kwam, bleek het mij duidelijk, dat ik daar\nniet geweest was bij het vastleggen van de boot. Ten tweede was de voet\nveel grooter en breeder dan de mijne. Dit alles deed mijn angst weder\nstijgen, zoodat ik klappertandde als of ik de koorts had, en naar huis\nging, in het vaste geloof, dat een of meer menschen aan den wal waren\ngeweest, kortom, dat het eiland bewoond was, en ik onverhoeds overvallen\nkon worden. Welken weg ik thans moest inslaan om mij te beveiligen, wist\nik niet.\nWelke dwaze denkbeelden boezemt de vrees ons in! Hij berooft ons van het\ngebruik dier middelen, die ons verstand ons leert. Het eerste, wat ik\nbedacht, was, al mijne heiningen omver te werpen, mijn tamme vee in het\nbosch te jagen, opdat de vijand het niet zien zou, en niet verlangen\nmeer soortgelijken buit te maken; vervolgens mijne twee graanvelden om\nte spitten, opdat het vinden van het graan hen niet zou overhalen het\neiland meermalen te bezoeken, en eindelijk mijne buitenplaats en tent te\nslechten, opdat zij geenerlei blijk van bewoners zouden vinden, en\nhierdoor lust verkrijgen, die te zoeken.\nDit alles bedacht ik in den nacht, nadat ik weder te huis gekomen was,\ntoen mijn angst nog allerlevendigst was. De vrees voor het gevaar\nverwekt waarlijk tienduizend maal meer schrik, dan het gevaar zelf, als\nwij dit zien, en de angst voor eenig kwaad drukt ons veel meer, dan het\nonheil zelf. Het ergste was, dat ik thans niet geschraagd werd door die\nvrome berusting in Gods wil, die ik gehoopt had altijd te zullen\nbehouden. Mij dacht ik was even als Saul, die niet alleen klaagde, dat\nde Filistijnen hem bedrogen, maar ook dat God hem verlaten had; want ik\nkoos niet den waren weg tot gerustheid, door God in mijne bedruktheid\naan te roepen, en gelijk vroeger, mijne verdediging en bevrijding van\nHem te verwachten. Zoo ik dit gedaan had, zou ik dit nieuwe ongeval\nmoediger en meer getroost hebben gedragen.\nMijne onrust hield mij den geheelen nacht wakker, doch tegen den morgen\nviel ik van vermoeijenis in een diepen slaap, en toen ik wakker werd\nwas ik veel kalmer dan den vorigen dag. En nu begon ik bedaard na te\ndenken, en na veel redekavelens met mij zelven, kwam ik tot het besluit,\ndat dit eiland, hetwelk zoo uiterst aangenaam, vruchtbaar, en gelijk ik\ngezien had, niet ver van het vaste land af was, niet zoo geheel verlaten\nwas, als ik mij wel verbeeld had; dat schoon het geene vaste bewoners\nbezat, er echter somtijds booten van den vasten wal konden komen, hetzij\nopzettelijk, hetzij door tegenwinden daarheen gedreven; dat ik er nu\nvijftien jaren lang geweest was, zonder schijn of schaduw van eenig\nmenschelijk wezen te zien, en dat zoo er ten eeniger tijd, deze gekomen\nwaren, zij waarschijnlijk zoo spoedig zij konden weder vertrokken waren,\naangezien zij tot hiertoe nimmer zich hier hadden gevestigd; dat het\neenigste gevaar voor mij te wachten was uit het toevallig hier landen\nvan eenig volk van het vaste land. Als deze echter hierheen geslagen\nwerden, was dit tegen hunnen wil, en dus zouden zij dan wel zoo spoedig\nzij konden weder vertrekken, en zelden een nacht overblijven, ten ware\nom het getij en het daglicht te hebben; en dus behoefde ik alleen op\neene veilige schuilplaats bedacht te zijn, in geval eenige wilden mogten\nlanden.\nNu begon het mij te spijten, dat ik mijn kelder zoo wijd uitgegraven\nhad, dat hij met eene deur buiten de rots uitkwam. Na rijp nadenken\nbesloot ik mij eene tweede verschansing te maken, even zoo in een halven\ncirkel, op eene afstand van den muur, juist waar ik, twaalf jaren\ngeleden, eene dubbele rij boomen had geplant. Deze boomen waren zoo digt\nbijeen gezet, dat ik er slechts eenige palen tusschen behoefde te slaan\nter meerdere stevigheid, en dan was mijn muur spoedig voltooid. Ik had\ndus een dubbelen muur, en de buitenste was opgevuld met stukken oud\nhout, oud touw, en al wat ik ter versterking geschikt achtte. Ik maakte\ner zeven gaten in, waar ik mijn arm door kon steken. Van binnen bragt ik\ner tot tien voet aarde tegen aan, die ik uit mijn kelder haalde en vast\ntrapte. Door de zeven gaten stak ik de trompen der geweren, waarvan ik,\ngelijk ik gezegd heb, zeven uit het schip had gehaald. Ik zette deze\nvast op eene soort van stellaadje, zoodat ik ze alle zeven in een paar\nminuten kon afschieten. Menige maand werkte ik hieraan hard, en achtte\nmij niet veilig voor het af was.\nDaarna beplantte ik den grond, op een grooten afstand, met zooveel\nstekken van die soort van wilgenboom, als er slechts groeijen konden, ik\ngeloof wel twintigduizend. Ik liet eene vrij groote ruimte tusschen deze\nen mijn muur, ten einde een gezigt van den vijand te hebben, en opdat\ndeze geene beschutting daarvan zou hebben. Twee jaren later was ik door\ndigt kreupelhout omgeven, en vier jaren later had ik voor mijn kasteel\nzulk een digt bosch, dat het waarlijk ondoordringbaar was, en niemand\nzich ooit zou verbeeld hebben, dat er iets, laat staan eene woning\nachter was.\nIk had geen uitgang aan mijn kasteel gelaten, maar ging er met twee\nladders in en uit. Een zette ik tegen de rots, waarmede ik op eene plek\nkwam waar ik de andere kon zetten, en als ik ze eens achter mij\nweggehaald had, kon niemand mij zonder levensgevaar genaken, en alsdan\nwas hij nog slechts aan de buitenzijde van mijn buitensten muur.\nAldus nam ik alle maatregelen, die de voorzigtigheid mij tot mijne\nbeveiliging kon aan de hand doen, en men zal zien, dat zij niet geheel\nonverstandig waren, schoon ik te dier tijd niets meer voorzag dan wat\nmijne vrees mij voorspiegelde.\nMiddelerwijl verwaarloosde ik geenszins mijne overige bezigheden, want\nik was zeer bezorgd voor mijn kudde geiten; deze toch leverden mij niet\nalleen thans spijs op, zonder dat ik mijn kruid of lood behoefde te\nverspillen, maar zij onthieven mij ook van de vermoeijenis der jagt op\nde wilden, en ik wilde ongaarne dit groote voordeel verliezen, en van\nnieuws af weder eenige tam maken.\nOm dit te verhoeden zag ik, na rijpe overweging, slechts twee middelen,\nhet eerste was, eene andere onderaardsche grot te delven, en ze daar\nalle avonden in te drijven; en het andere bestond in het afperken van\ntwee of drie verschillende stukjes land, ver van elkander, en zoo\nverborgen als ik vinden kon, in elke waarvan ik een half dozijn jonge\ngeiten kon houden, zoodat, als de groote kudde eenig ongeluk overkwam,\nik die gemakkelijk weder kon aanvullen. Dit laatste middel, hoe\nmoeijelijk ook, achtte ik het verstandigst, en begon er dadelijk aan.\nEerst zocht ik uit de verborgenste plaatsen van het eiland, een dat mij\nhet geschiktste voorkwam. Het was eene kleine, vochtige plek gronds,\nmidden tusschen digt geboomte, waar ik, bij mijn eersten togt door het\neiland, zelf verdwaalde. Daar ontdekte ik drie morgen ongeveer, die zoo\ndoor geboomte omringd waren, dat dit haast eene natuurlijke heining\nvormde; althans kostte het maken van eene mij daar veel minder arbeid\ndan bij de anderen het geval was geweest.\nBinnen eene maand had ik die geheel omheind, zoodat mijne kudde, die\nthans makker was dan men wel denken zou, daar thans veilig genoeg was.\nIk bragt er dadelijk tien geiten en twee bokken heen, en bleef\nvervolgens de heining versterken, tot zij zoo sterk was als de vorige;\ndoch dit deed ik meer op mijn gemak.\nAl deze arbeid was alleen ontstaan uit de vrees, die de afdruk van een\nmenschenvoet bij mij verwekt had; want tot hiertoe had ik nog geen\nmenschelijk wezen het eiland zien naderen; en thans had deze\nongerustheid mij twee jaren lang het leven verbitterd, gelijk iedereen\ngelooven zal, die weet wat het is, in voortdurenden angst te leven. Ik\nmoet ook bekennen, dat deze angst veel invloed op mijne godsdienstige\nstemming had; want de vrees, dat ik in handen der wilden en\nmenscheneters mogt vallen, drukte mijn geest zoo ter neder, dat ik\nzelden in eene behoorlijke stemming was om mij tot mijnen Schepper te\nwenden, althans niet met die kalmte en onderworpenheid, waarmede ik\ngewoon was te bidden. Ik bad tot God in den angst van elken nacht\novervallen en geslagt te worden, en uit ondervinding kan ik betuigen,\ndat eene rustige, dankbare, blijmoedige stemming veel geschikter ons tot\nhet gebed maakt dan angst en vrees voor onheil; zulk een mensch is even\nongeschikt om God te bidden, als hij, die op een ziekbed uitgestrekt\nligt; ziekten van den geest toch maken onbekwamer tot het gebed, dan die\nvan het ligchaam, daar het bidden eene verrigting van den geest en niet\nvan het ligchaam is.\nDoch om met mijn verhaal voort te gaan. Na aldus een deel mijner kudde\nin veiligheid gebragt te hebben, ging ik het geheele eiland door om nog\neen verborgen plek te zoeken, voor eene tweede bewaarplaats. Ik kwam\nhierbij verder aan de westzijde van het eiland dan ik ooit geweest\nwas, en zeewaarts ziende, meende ik op verren afstand eene groote boot\nte zien. Ik had in een der geredde matrozenkisten een paar kijkers\ngevonden, maar geen daarvan bij mij, en het voorwerp was zoo ver af, dat\nik niet wist wat ik er van maken zou, schoon ik er mij half blind op\ntuurde.\nToen ik den heuvel opging verloor ik het voorwerp uit het gezigt, en gaf\nhet dus op, maar besloot nimmer weder uit te gaan zonder een kijker bij\nmij. Toen ik den heuvel af, en op de westzijde van het eiland was\ngekomen, waar ik nog nimmer geweest was, zag ik duidelijk, dat het spoor\nvan een menschenvoet hier niet zoo buitengewoon was als ik mij verbeeld\nhad, maar dat het eene bijzondere bestiering der Voorzienigheid was\ngeweest, dat ik op een deel des eilands was geworpen waar de wilden\nnimmer kwamen. Zoo ik hier vroeger gekomen was, had ik ingezien, dat de\nkanoes, die wat ver in zee geraakt waren, dit eiland dikwijls aandeden,\nom daar te overnachten. Ook na in hunne kanoes gevochten en gevangenen\ngemaakt te hebben, bragten zij die volgens hunne gewoonte hierheen, om\nze te slagten en op te eten, daar het allen hier omstreeks kannibalen\nwaren. Ik zal in het vervolg hierover meer spreken.\nToen ik, gelijk ik zeide, aan het westeinde van het eiland kwam, stond\nik van schrik en afschuw als verplet, daar ik het strand met\nhersenpannen, handen, voeten en andere gebeenten van menschen bedekt\nzag. Ik ontdekte eene plek waar een vuur gebrand had, en een kuil in den\ngrond rondom liep, waar ongetwijfeld de ellendelingen bij hun\nafschuwelijk feest gegeten hadden.\nDit schouwspel trof mij zoo geweldig, dat ik eene poos om mijn eigen\ngevaar niet dacht. Mijn geest was geheel vervuld met de gedachte aan\nzulke helsche barbaarschheid, en den afschuw voor zulk eene ontaarding\nvan alle menschelijk gevoel, waarvan ik vroeger wel gehoord, maar dat ik\nnimmer zoo van nabij had gezien. Met walging wendde ik mijn gelaat af\nvan dit afschuwelijk tooneel, en eerst na eene hevige braking kwam ik\neen weinig tot mij zelven, maar kon hier niet langer blijven; dus klom\nik zoo spoedig ik kon den heuvel weder op en ging naar huis terug.\nToen ik een weinig van dat gedeelte des eilands af was, stond ik eene\npoos als verplet, en daarna dankte ik God, met de uiterste aandoening en\nonder een vloed van tranen, dat Hij mij in een werelddeel had doen\ngeboren worden, waardoor ik van zulke afschuwelijke wezens onderscheiden\nwas, en dat, ofschoon ik mijn tegenwoordigen toestand zeer ongelukkig\nhad geacht, ik meer reden tot dankbaarheid dan tot klagen had, en\nbovenal, dat ik vertroost was door de kennisse Gods en de hoop op zijne\ngenade, een geluk, dat verre weg opwoog tegen al de ellende, die ik\nondergaan had of nog kon ondergaan. In deze dankbare stemming ging ik\nnaar mijn kasteel terug, veel geruster omtrent mijne veiligheid dan ik\nsedert lang geweest was, want ik zag in, dat deze schepsels nimmer op\nhet eiland kwamen om te zoeken wat daar te halen was; misschien dewijl\nzij er niets zochten of gevonden hadden wat hun aanstond. Ik was hier\nthans bijkans achttien jaar geweest, zonder het minste spoor van\nmenschelijke schreden te zien, en welligt kon ik er nog achttien jaren\neven verborgen leven, als ik mij niet aan hen ontdekte, waartoe ik geene\nde minste roeping gevoelde, daar het mijne zaak was mij zoo verborgen\nals mogelijk te houden, ten ware ik betere lieden dan menscheneters\nvond. Nogtans was mijn afschuw voor die woestaards en hunne zeden zoo\ngroot, dat ik langen tijd ne\u00earslagtig bleef, en schier twee jaren lang\nmij niet buiten mijn kring bewoog. Ik bedoel buiten mijn kasteel, mijn\nbuitenplaats en mijne omheinde weiden; welke laatste ik alleen om mijne\ngeiten bezocht; want ik had voor de wilden een afschuw als voor den\nduivel zelf. Al dien tijd zag ik zelfs niet naar mijne boot om; want ik\nkon er niet aan denken de andere boot het eiland om te brengen, uit\nvrees, dat ik op zee eenige dier wezens ontmoeten mogt; want ik wist wat\nmijn lot zou zijn, als ik in hunne handen mogt vallen.\nMet ter tijd echter en door het bewustzijn, dat ik geen gevaar liep van\ndoor dit volk ontdekt te worden, begon mijne ongerustheid te slijten, en\nmijn leven zoo kalm als vroeger te worden; met dit onderscheid, dat ik\nbehoedzamer was, en meer rondzag of een hunner mij ook ontdekken kon.\nHet was dus zeer gelukkig, dat ik eene tamme kudde geiten had, en niet\nmeer op de wilde behoefde te jagen, en in het vervolg ving ik eenigen\nnog wel, maar alleen door strikken of vallen. Ik geloof, dat ik in geen\ntwee jaren mijn geweer afschoot, schoon ik nimmer zonder hetzelve\nuitging, en bovendien altijd in mijn gordel twee of drie pistolen droeg,\ndie ik uit het schip gered had, ook sleep ik een van de groote messen,\ndie ik uit het schip gehaald had, en stak dit ook in mijn gordel, maar\nzonder scheede.\nAldus bleef alles gedurende eenigen tijd, en behalve deze voorzorgen\nleefde ik op den ouden rustigen voet. Al deze gebeurtenissen toonden mij\nmeer en meer, dat mijn toestand, verre af was van rampzalig te zijn,\nals ik dien bij dien van anderen vergeleek, waarin God ook mij had\nkunnen plaatsen. Dit deed mij denken hoe weinig de menschen zich zouden\nbeklagen over hun lot, als zij dit vergeleken, bij dat wat rampzaliger,\nen niet bij hetgeen gelukkiger was. In mijn tegenwoordigen toestand had\nik aan weinig gebrek, zoodat ik werkelijk dacht, dat de schrik voor de\nwilden mijne verbeeldingskracht tot het uitdenken van gerijfelijkheden\nverstompt had. Ik had zelfs geheel een voornemen laten varen, dat ik\neens gekoesterd had, namelijk van te beproeven, of ik niet van mijn\ngraan wat mout kon maken, en hiermede bier brouwen. Dit was inderdaad\neen uitsporig denkbeeld, en dikwijls bespotte ik mij zelven er over;\nwant ik zag thans in, dat ik om bier te brouwen, verscheidene dingen\nnoodig had, die ik onmogelijk vervaardigen kon; als vooreerst vaten om\nhet in te bewaren; die ik in spijt van al mijne pogingen nimmer kon\nmaken, gelijk ik reeds gezegd heb, schoon ik het weken, zelfs maanden\nlang, doch vruchteloos, beproefde. Vervolgens had ik geen hop om het\nduurzaam te maken, noch gest, noch ketels om het in te koken, en toch,\nzoo al die schrik van de wilden niet tusschenbeide gekomen was, zou ik\nhet beproefd en er misschien in geslaagd hebben, want ik gaf niet ligt\niets op wat ik mij eenmaal in het hoofd had gezet.\nDoch thans liepen mijne denkbeelden in eene andere rigting. Nacht en dag\ndacht ik alleen hoe ik eenige dier monsters zou vernielen in hun\nbloeddorstig vermaak, en zoo mogelijk hunne medegebragte slagtoffers\nredden. Ik zou een grooter werk dan dit boek vullen, als ik al de\nontwerpen waarover ik broedde, wilde vermelden, ter vernieling dier\nschepselen, althans om hun zulk een schrik aan te jagen, dat zij hier\nnimmer weder kwamen, maar alles vergeefs. Ik kon niets bedenken, of ik\nmoest het zelf verrigten, en wat kon een man tegen misschien twintig of\ndertig wilden uitrigten, met boog en pijl gewapend, waarmede zij hun wit\nzoo zeker raken als ik met mijn geweer doen kon.\nSomtijds wilde ik een hol graven onder de plaats waar zij hun vuur\naanlegden, en dat met vijf of zes pond buskruid vullen, hetwelk, als zij\nhun vuur ontstoken hadden, hen allen in de lucht zou doen vliegen. Maar\nin de eerste plaats wilde ik ongaarne zooveel kruid verspillen, waarvan\nik thans nog slechts een vat had. Ook was ik niet zeker, dat het op zijn\ntijd ontvlammen zou, en misschien zou het hen slechts wat aarde om de\nooren doen vliegen, maar niet genoeg verschrikken om hen de plaats te\ndoen verlaten. Op een anderen tijd wilde ik met mijne drie geweren,\nallen dubbel geladen, in hinderlaag gaan liggen, en als zij midden in\nhun bloeddorstig werk waren, op hen vuur geven; ik was zeker, twee of\ndrie hunner met elk schot te dooden of te kwetsen, en ik twijfelde niet\nof met behulp van mijne sabel, zou ik ze allen ombrengen, al waren er\ntwintig. Eenige weken lang speelde dit mij zoo door het hoofd, dat ik er\ndes nachts soms van droomde.\nIk dreef dit zoo ver, dat ik verscheidene dagen besteedde met het zoeken\nnaar geschikte plaatsen, om mij in hinderlaag te liggen, ten einde hen\ngade te slaan, en ik ging dikwijls naar de plaats zelf, die mij thans\ngemeenzaam was geworden, en vooral terwijl mijn geest met wraakgierige\ndenkbeelden, en het voornemen om er twintig of dertig over de kling te\njagen, was opgevuld; de afschuw, dien ik voor de plek had, en de\nblijken, dat de barbaren elkander verslonden hadden, voedden mijne\nwoede.\nIk vond dan ook eindelijk eene plek in de zijde van den heuvel, waar ik\nbegreep veilig te kunnen wachten, tot ik eenige hunner booten zag\naankomen, als wanneer ik, zelfs voor dat zij gereed waren aan wal te\ngaan, mij in een hollen boom verbergen kon, waarin ik geheel verholen\nwas, en al hunne bloeddorstige handelingen zou kunnen gadeslaan, en\nbedaard op hen aanleggen, als zij zoo digt bijeen zouden zijn, dat het\nbijkans onmogelijk was hen te missen en niet drie of vier hunner bij het\neerste schot te treffen. Deze plaats eenmaal gekozen, maakte ik twee\ngeweren en mijn gewoon jagtgeweer gereed. De eersten laadde ik ieder met\nschroot en vier of vijf pistoolkogels; het laatste met eene handvol\ngroven ganzenhagel. Ik deed ook vier kogels op ieder mijner pistolen, en\naldus, voorzien van kruid en lood voor eene tweede en derde lading,\nmaakte ik mij tot mijne expeditie gereed.\nNa aldus mijn plan tot den veldtogt gemaakt te hebben, klom ik elken\nmorgen op den top des heuvels, die ongeveer een uur van mijn kasteel af\nlag, om te zien of ik op zee eenige booten kon bespeuren, die op het\neiland aanhielden of het naderden. Na twee of drie maanden aldus de\nwacht gehouden te hebben, begon mij dit te vervelen echter, daar ik in\nal dien tijd niet het minste nabij het strand, noch op den geheelen\noceaan, zoo ver mijn kijker reikte, kon ontdekken.\nZoo lang ik dagelijks naar den heuvel ging, zoo lang bleef ik even vurig\nin mijn ontwerp; en mijn moed scheen al dien tijd onverzwakt, ter\nuitvoering van het uitsporig denkbeeld van twintig of dertig naakte\nwilden dood te schieten, voor eene misdaad, die ik volstrekt niet\noverdacht had, daar ik alleen geleid werd door mijn afschuw voor dit\nonnatuurlijk gebruik van de wilden, welke de Voorzienigheid, naar het\nschijnt, goedgevonden heeft, alleen door hunne lage en beestachtige\ndriften te laten regeren, en die daardoor misschien sedert eeuwen aan\nzulke afschuwelijke zeden en gewoonten waren overgegeven, waaraan alleen\nzij, die van den Hemel verlaten, en beneden de menschelijke natuur\nverlaagd zijn, zich kunnen overgeven. Doch nu begonnen, gelijk ik zeide,\nmijne langdurige vruchtelooze togten mij te vermoeijen, en mijne wijze\nvan zien nopens hunne handelwijze begon ook te veranderen, en ik begon\nkoeler en bezadigder te overwegen wat ik wilde ondernemen; welk regt of\ngezag ik had om mij tot regter en beul te maken, en deze lieden als\nmisdadigers te behandelen, wien de Hemel goedgevonden had, gedurende zoo\nvele eeuwen straffeloos hunnen gang te laten gaan, en als het ware tot\nde uitvoerders zijner straffen jegens hen onder elkander te maken;\nalsmede welk regt ik had mij in dien bloedigen strijd te mengen, dien\nzij onderling voerden. Ik redekavelde dikwerf aldus met mij zelven: \"Hoe\nweet ik wat Gods oordeel daaromtrent is? Het is zeker, dat dit volk dit\nniet als eene misdaad beschouwt; hun geweten bestraft er hen niet over.\nZij weten niet, dat het eene misdaad is, en bedrijven die niet in spijt\nder Goddelijke geregtigheid, gelijk wij onze zonden plegen. Zij achten\nhet evenmin eene misdaad, een krijgsgevangene te slagten, als wij eenen\nos te dooden, en hebben even weinig tegen menschenvleesch als wij tegen\nschapenvleesch.\"\nEenige overdenkingen dienaangaande deden mij besluiten, dat ik ongelijk\nhad, dat dit volk geen moordenaars waren in dien zin als ik ze beschouwd\nhad; dat zij daaromtrent gelijk stonden met verscheidene\nChristenveldheeren, die krijgsgevangenen, of geheele troepen, schoon zij\ngeen weerstand boden, kwartier weigerden en ze over de kling joegen.\nVervolgens bedacht ik, dat ofschoon hun gebruik beestachtig en\nbarbaarsch was, het mij echter niet aanging; dat zij mij geenszins kwaad\ngedaan hadden; dat het welligt verschoonbaar was als zij mij aanvielen,\nof als ik het tot mijn behoud noodig achtte hen te overvallen; maar dat\nik voor als nog buiten hunne magt was, en zij metterdaad van mij geene\nkennis droegen, en diensvolgens geen kwaad oogmerk tegen mij hadden.\nDerhalve kon het van mij niet regtvaardig zijn hen te overvallen; dit\nzou de onmenschelijkheden der Spanjaarden in Amerika, die daar duizenden\nvermoord hebben, regtvaardigen; en hoewel dit afgodendienaars en\nbarbaren waren, die vele bloedige en onmenschelijke gebruiken hadden,\nzoo als het offeren van menschen aan hunne afgoden, toch waren zij\njegens de Spanjaarden onschuldig; en van hunne uitroeijing is altijd\ngesproken met de uiterste afkeuring en verfoeijing, door de Spanjaarden\nzelven, en door alle Christen nati\u00ebn in Europa is zij beschouwd als eene\nbloeddorstige menschenslagting, voor God noch menschen te regtvaardigen,\nen waardoor de naam van een Spanjaard zelfs bij alle Christenvolkeren in\nverschrikking is gekomen; alsof Spanje in het bijzonder een menschenras\nvoortbragt, geheel en al zonder eenige gevoelens van menschlievendheid\nof medelijden, die men als aan welgeschapen harten eigen beschouwt.\nDeze bedenkingen bragten mij tot beter inzien, en ik begon van\nlieverlede mijn oogmerk op te geven, en te besluiten, dat ik mij\nverkeerde maatregelen had voorgenomen, ten einde de wilden aan te\nvallen; dat het mijne zaak niet was mij met hen in te laten, ten ware\nzij mij het eerst aanvielen, hetwelk ik zoo veel in mij was moest\ntrachten te voorkomen; maar als ik ontdekt en aangevallen werd, dan wist\nik wat mij te doen stond.\nAan den anderen kant bragt ik mij zelven onder het oog, dat dit waarlijk\nde weg niet was om mij te bevrijden, maar mij geheel en al in het\nverderf te storten. Immers als ik niet zeker was, dat ik iedereen dooden\nkon, die alsdan aan het strand was, als ook hen, die er naderhand mogten\nkomen, dan, als er slechts een ontsnapte, om zijnen landslieden het\ngebeurde mede te deelen, zouden zij weder bij duizenden overkomen om den\ndood van hunne makkers te wreken; en ik mij zelven een gewissen dood op\nden hals halen, waartoe ik voor als nog in het geheel geen roeping\ngevoelde.\nOm kort te gaan, ik besloot, dat het mij geraden was, mij hierin\nvolstrekt niet te mengen, maar mij zoo veel mogelijk voor hen verborgen\nte houden, en niet het minste spoor achter te laten, waardoor zij gissen\nkonden, dat er eenig menschelijk wezen zich op het eiland bevond. De\ngodsdienst sterkte mij in dit voorzigtig besluit, en ik was thans door\nverschillende redenen overtuigd, dat ik geheel en al mijn pligt te\nbuiten ging, als ik zulke bloeddorstige ontwerpen bleef voeden, om\nonschuldige wezens te dooden; ik bedoel onschuldig jegens mij. Met de\nmisdaden, waaraan zij zich jegens elkander schuldig maakten, had ik\nniets te maken; het waren hunne zeden, en ik moest die aan de Goddelijke\ngeregtigheid overlaten, daar God de volkeren bestiert en zijne oordeelen\nop de wijze, die Hij goedvindt, over hen kan doen losbarsten.\nDit scheen mij thans zoo klaar toe, dat niets mij meer verheugde, dan\ndat het mij niet toegelaten was te doen, hetgeen ik thans als niet\nminder dan moedwilligen doodslag beschouwde, en ik dankte God op mijne\nknie\u00ebn, dat Hij mij aldus van mijn bloeddorst had genezen; smeekte om\nzijne bescherming, dat ik niet in hunne handen mogt vallen, of de hand\naan hen slaan, ten ware de Hemel mij dit duidelijk en ter verdediging\nvan mijn eigen leven aanwees.\nIn deze gemoedsgesteldheid bragt ik nog een jaar door, en ik verlangde\nzoo weinig die rampzaligen aan te vallen, dat ik in al dien tijd geene\nenkele maal den heuvel opklom, om te zien of er ook eenigen in het\ngezigt waren, of te weten, of zij al of niet het eiland hadden\naangedaan; ten einde niet in verzoeking te geraken mijne vroegere\nmiddelen te bezigen, of door eenig voordeel tot een aanval op hen\nverlokt te worden. Echter haalde ik mijne boot van de andere zijde van\nhet eiland, en bragt die aan de oostzijde, waar ik die in een inham\nonder eenige hooge rotsen legde, waar ik wist, dat de wilden, uithoofde\nder stroomingen, niet met hunne kanoes zouden durven komen. Met de boot\nnam ik alles mede, wat ik daar achtergelaten had, namelijk een mast en\neen zeil, dat ik gemaakt had, benevens eene soort van anker of dreg,\nschoon eigenlijk naar geen van beide gelijkende, maar dat ik niet beter\nhad kunnen maken. Dit deed ik om niet het minste blijk van menschelijke\nwezens, of spoor van eene boot op het eiland achter te laten.\nBovendien leefde ik stiller dan ooit, en verliet zelden mijne kluis dan\nvoor mijne dagelijksche bezigheden, het melken mijner geiten en het\nnazien mijner kudde in het bosch, die als geheel aan de andere zijde van\nhet eiland, buiten alle gevaar was; want het was zeker, dat de wilden,\ndie somtijds het eiland aandeden, er nimmer iets dachten te vinden, en\ndus nooit het strand verlieten. Ik twijfel niet of zij waren er\nverscheidene malen, nadat ik hun spoor ontdekt had, geweest; en ik\nhuiverde bij de gedachte wat mijn toestand zou geweest zijn, als ik op\nhen gestooten had, en zij mij ontdekt hadden, alleen gewapend met een\ngeweer, soms met eenigen hagel slechts geladen. Welk een verrassing zou\nhet geweest zijn als ik in plaats van een afdruk van een voet, een\nvijftien of twintig wilden aangetroffen had, en zij mij vervolgd hadden.\nBij hunnen snellen loop zou er aan ontkomen niet te denken zijn geweest.\nDeze denkbeelden maakten mij soms bitter ne\u00earslagtig. Met schrik dacht\nik wat ik in dat geval zou gedaan hebben; zonder hen te kunnen\nweerstaan, misschien zonder tegenwoordigheid van geest om van mijne\neerst na lang nadenken uitgevonden middelen tot verdediging gebruik te\nmaken. Maar ik eindigde met dankbaar aan de Voorzienigheid te zijn, die\nmij voor deze schrikkelijke ramp bewaard had, terwijl ik zelfs het\ngevaar, waarin ik was, niet bevroedde. Dit bragt mij tot de overweging,\ndie ik reeds meermalen, bij mijn leven, had gemaakt, hoe de\nVoorzienigheid ons in gevaren beschermt en leidt door schikkingen,\nwaarvan wij het doel niet begrijpen. Dikwijls toch worden wij door\ngeheel onverwachte gebeurtenissen uit groote gevaren bevrijd; dikwijls\ndrijft een geheime aandrang, in hagchelijke oogenblikken, ons aan, om\nveeleer dezen dan genen weg in te slaan, die onfeilbaar tot ons verderf\nzou geleid hebben.\nTen gevolge dezer overwegingen stelde ik het mij naderhand tot een\nvasten regel, dat wanneer naderhand, als het ware, eene geheime stem mij\nried deze of gene zaak te doen of te laten, of dezen of genen weg in te\nslaan, ik altoos die aanwijzing volgde, schoon ik er geene andere reden\ndan dezen aandrang voor had. Meer dan een voorbeeld uit mijn leven zou\nik kunnen bijbrengen, om het welslagen van deze handelwijze te bewijzen;\nmaar vooral in den laatsten tijd van mijn verblijf op dit eiland;\nbehalve dat ik vroeger waarschijnlijk veel dergelijks had kunnen\nbespeuren, zoo ik toenmaals de zaken uit hetzelfde oogpunt had\nbeschouwd. Doch het is nimmer te laat om verstandig te worden, en ik kan\nieder verstandig mensch, wiens leven even als het mijne aan zoo\nbuitenwone wisselvalligheden, of zelfs aan min bijzondere onderhevig is,\naanraden, zulke geheime wenken der Voorzienigheid niet in den wind te\nslaan, door welke onzigtbare werking zij ons medegedeeld worden. Ik kan\ndeze noch verklaren, noch er over redetwisten, maar gewis zijn het\nonwraakbare bewijzen voor de werking van onstoffelijke wezens buiten\nons. Hiervan zal ik in het overige van mijn eenzaam verblijf op het\neiland merkwaardige bewijzen kunnen geven.\nMijne lezers zullen het, geloof ik, niet vreemd vinden, als ik beken,\ndat deze aanhoudende angst en gevaren waarin ik verkeerde, en de\ndaardoor verwekte zorgen, mij alle uitvindingen en alle ondernemingen,\ndie ik tot mijn verder gemak bedacht had, deden staken. Ik werd thans\nmeer door de zorg voor mijne veiligheid, dan voor mijn onderhoud,\nbeziggehouden. Ik durfde geen spijker slaan, geen hout kappen, uit\nvrees, dat het geraas hiervan gehoord zou worden; veel minder durfde ik\neen geweer afschieten, en vooral baarde mijn vuur mij veel vrees. De\nrook, die over dag zeer ver zigtbaar is, kon mij verraden, en ten dien\neinde verrigtte ik mijn werk, waarbij ik vuur noodig had, als potten en\npijpen bakken, in mijn nieuw verblijf in het bosch, waar ik voor eenigen\ntijd, tot mijne groote vreugde, een natuurlijke onderaardsche grot had\ngevonden, die een heel eind weegs diep inliep; en ik was verzekerd, dat\ngeen wilde, als hij den ingang vond, er zou durven ingaan, en niemand\nzou dit doen ten ware hij, gelijk ik, een veilige schuilplaats zoo hoog\nnoodig had.\nDe ingang van deze grot was aan den voet van eene groote rots, waar het\ntoeval, (zou ik vroeger gezegd hebben, maar het was inderdaad de\nVoorzienigheid) mij heenvoerde, terwijl ik eenige zware takken kapte om\nhoutskolen te branden. Vooraf moet ik zeggen waarom ik houtskolen\nmaakte. Ik was bevreesd bij mijne woning vuur te stoken, gelijk ik\nzeide, en toch kon ik niet leven zonder mijn brood te bakken, mijn\nvleesch te koken enz.; en dus beproefde ik eenig hout, gelijk ik in\nEngeland gezien had, met aarde overdekt, te branden tot het kolen waren,\nalsdan doofde ik het vuur uit, bragt de houtskolen naar huis, en\ngebruikte die om vuur te maken, zonder gevaar van den rook. Doch om tot\nmijn verhaal terug te keeren.\nTerwijl ik daar aan het houtkappen was, bemerkte ik, dat er achter eenig\nzeer dik kreupelhout of heestergewas, eene zekere opening was. Ik was\nnieuwsgierig, die te zien, en toen ik met moeite aan den ingang kwam,\nvond ik, dat, die vrij groot was, namelijk, dat ik er, en nog iemand\nnaast mij, regt op in kon staan. Maar ik moet bekennen, dat ik er veel\nharder uitstoof dan ik er ingekomen was, toen ik dieper inziende, waar\nhet stik donker was, twee helder flikkerende oogen zag van eenig\nschepsel, hetzij mensch of duivel, die daar als twee sterren flikkerden,\nen waar het flaauwe licht, dat in de opening der grot drong, in\nwe\u00earkaatste. Echter kwam ik na eenige oogenblikken wat tot mij zelven,\nen schold mij zelven voor een tiendubbelen gek, en zeide, dat hij, die\nbang was den duivel onder de oogen te zien, niet geschikt was om twintig\njaren geheel alleen op een woest eiland te leven, en dat er zeker niets\nin de grot was, dat meer schrik kon verwekken dan mijn eigen persoon.\nHierna raapte ik al mijn moed bijeen, nam een vlammend hout in de hand,\nen stoof daarmede gewapend, de grot in. Ik had nog geen drie stappen\ngedaan, of ik schrikte weder even hevig als vroeger, want ik hoorde een\nluid steenen, als van iemand, die zware pijn lijdt, dan weder een dof\ngeluid, als of men binnen 's monds sprak, gevolgd door een diepen zucht.\nIk trad terug en was zoo ontsteld, dat het koude zweet mij uitbrak, en\nhad ik een hoed op gehad, dan zouden mijne te berge staande haren dien\nmisschien opgeligt hebben. Maar nog trachtte ik moed te scheppen met het\ndenkbeeld, dat God alomtegenwoordig was en mij kon beschermen, en weder\nvoorwaarts stappende, zag ik bij het licht van het brandend hout, dat ik\nboven mijn hoofd hield, zag ik, zeg ik, een allermonsterachtigsten,\nvreesselijken ouden bok op den grond liggen, die daar lag te zieltogen\nen van ouderdom scheen te sterven. Ik beproefde hem weg te jagen; hij\ntrachtte op te staan, maar kon niet; en ik dacht bij mij zelven: blijf\ndan maar liggen, want hebt gij mij zoo verschrikt, dan zult gij\nzekerlijk de wilden, zoo die het durven wagen naar binnen te dringen\nterwijl gij nog leeft, nog veel meer schrik aanjagen.\nVan mijne verbazing bekomen, begon ik rond te zien en ontdekte, dat de\ngrot inderdaad zeer klein was, namelijk ongeveer twaalf voet, maar\nonregelmatig, noch rond noch vierkant gevormd, daar de natuur dit\nalleen, zonder hulp van menschenhanden gedaan had. Ik bemerkte ook, dat\ner aarde op eene plaats was, die dieper inliep, maar zoo laag, dat ik er\nop handen en voeten in moest kruipen. Daar ik nu geen kaars bij mij had,\nstelde ik dit uit, maar besloot den volgenden dag met kaarsen en een\ntinteldoos terug te komen. Mijn tinteldoos had ik van het slot van een\noud geweer gemaakt.\nIk kwam dan ook den volgenden dag terug met zes kaarsen van mijn eigen\nmaaksel, want ik maakte thans zeer goede kaarsen van geitenvet; en de\ngrot ingaande, was ik, gelijk ik zeide, genoodzaakt ongeveer tien ellen\nop handen en voeten voort te kruipen, hetgeen, naar mij dacht, al een\ngroot waagstuk was, daar ik niet wist hoe ver zij liep, of waar ik zou\nuitkomen. Na deze engte doorgegaan te zijn, verhief het gewelf zich\nongeveer tot twintig voet; maar nimmer, durf ik zeggen, zag men op het\neiland schitterender gezigt, dan de wanden dezer grot opleverden. Deze\nweerkaatsten honderdduizend maal het licht mijner twee kaarsen; wat er\nin de rots zat, of diamanten of andere edelgesteenten, of goud, wist ik\nniet. Ik bevond mij nu in de allerbevalligste grot, die men bedenken\nkon, schoon het er geheel duister was; de grond was droog en effen, en\ner lag eene soort van keizelzand op, zoodat er geenerlei stinkend of\nvenijnig gedierte, noch eenige vochtigheid aan de wanden te bespeuren\nwas. De ingang alleen was wat moeijelijk, hetgeen mij echter een\nvoordeel toescheen, daar het juist zulk eene veilige schuilplaats was\nals ik verlangde. Ik besloot dus onverwijld daar eenige dingen te\nbrengen, waarvoor ik het meest bezorgd was, bovenal mijn\nbuskruidmagazijn en al mijne wapenen, die ik niet gestadig gebruikte,\nbestaande uit twee jagtgeweren en drie musketten. Van deze laatste\nbehield ik dus vijf in mijn kasteel, die als kanonnen op mijne buitenste\nschans geplant stonden, en er ook des noodig konden uitgenomen worden.\nBij deze gelegenheid moest ik het kruidvaatje, dat ik uit zee opgevischt\nhad, openslaan, en ik vond, dat het zeewater er aan alle kanten drie tot\nvier duim doorgedrongen was, en het kruid daar zoo hard had gemaakt als\neen steen, waardoor het overige als de kern in een pit volkomen bewaard\nwas gebleven. Ik had dus midden in het vat ongeveer zestig pond zeer\ngoed kruid, hetgeen voor mij eene aangename verrassing was. Ik bragt dat\nalles er heen, en hield slechts twee of drie pond in mijn kasteel, om\ntegen elke verrassing gewapend te zijn, ook bragt ik er al het lood, dat\nik voor kogels bewaard had. Alstoen vergeleek ik mij bij de reuzen uit\nden ouden tijd, die men zegt, dat in grotten en rotsholen leefden, waar\nniemand hen kon bereiken. Ik hield mij overtuigd, dat al zaten mij\nvijfhonderd wilden na, zij mij niet zouden vinden, en al was dit zoo,\nmij hier nog niet zouden durven aanvallen.\nDe oude bok, dien ik zieltogende had gevonden, stierf den volgenden dag\nna mijne ontdekking, en ik vond het veel gemakkelijker hem daarin een\ngraf te delven dan hem er uit te slepen, dus begroef ik hem daar, om\nmijn neus voor den stank te waarborgen.\nIk was nu in het drie\u00ebntwintigste jaar van mijn verblijf op het eiland;\nen er zoo genaturaliseerd en aan mijne levenswijze gewoon, dat zoo ik\nslechts zeker ware geweest, dat er geene wilden zouden komen, ik\ntevreden zou geweest zijn met daar het overschot mijns levens te\nslijten, zelfs tot mijn laatste uur, tot ik, even als de oude bok, mij\nzou nederleggen en sterven. Ik had mij eenige vermakelijkheden\nverschaft, die mij den tijd aangenamer deden omgaan dan vroeger.\nVooreerst had ik mijn papegaai leeren spreken, en hij klapte zoo aardig\nen vertrouwelijk, dat ik geloof, dat nooit een vogel beter sprak. Hij\nleefde niet minder dan zesentwintig jaren met mij, en hoe lang hij\nnaderhand kon leven wist ik niet. In Brazili\u00eb zegt men, dat zij honderd\njaar oud kunnen worden. Mijn hond was mij meer dan zestien jaren een\ntrouwe makker, en toen stierf hij van ouderdom. Mijne katten\nvermenigvuldigden zoo, gelijk ik gezegd heb, dat ik er in den beginne\nverscheidene van moest dood schieten, ten einde zij niet mij en al wat\nik had opvraten; maar toen eindelijk de ouden dood waren, en ik ze\ngestadig verjoeg en niets binnen haar bereik liet, verwilderden zij en\nliepen het bosch in, behalve twee of drie, die ik tam hield, en wier\njongen ik altijd verdronk. Bovendien had ik altijd twee of drie tamme\ngeitjes om mij heen, die ik leerde uit mijne hand te komen eten. Ik had\nook nog twee papegaaijen, die tamelijk goed spraken, en allen: Robinson\nCrusoe! riepen, maar geen zoo goed als mijn eerste; ook had ik mij met\nhen zoo veel moeite niet gegeven. Ik had ook verscheidene tamme\nzeevogels, wier naam ik niet kende, die ik op het strand gevangen en\ngekortwiekt had. De stekken, die ik om mijn muur geplant had, waren nu\ntot een digt bosch gegroeid, en daarin leefden en nestelden zij, hetgeen\nmij zeer aangenaam was. Aldus leefde ik zeer tevreden, behalve dat ik\nsteeds door vrees voor de wilden geplaagd werd.\nDoch het was anders besloten, en het zal hier niet ongepast zijn mijnen\nLezers te doen opmerken, hoe dikwijls datgene, wat wij het meest\ntrachten te vermijden en voor ons het vreesselijkst is, toch het\neenigste middel is om ons uit onze ongelukken te redden. Ik zou uit mijn\nbuitengewonen levensloop vele voorbeelden tot staving hiervan kunnen\naanhalen; maar nergens bleek dit duidelijker in dan in de\nomstandigheden, die de laatste jaren van mijn verblijf alhier\nkenmerkten.\nHet was nu in December, in het drie\u00ebntwintigste jaar van mijn verblijf\nalhier, en daar dit de zuidelijke zonnestand (want winter kan men het\nniet noemen) was, en dus mijn oogsttijd, moest ik dikwijls op het veld\nwezen. Op een vroegen morgen v\u00f3\u00f3r den dag uitgaande, verbaasde het mij\nop het strand, een half uur van mij af, een groot vuur te zien, en tot\nmijn grooten schrik aan mijne zijde van het eiland.\nBij dit gezigt stond ik als verplet, en bleef in mijn boschaadje, waar\nik niet durfde uitgaan; en toch was ik even ongerust, uit vrees, dat zoo\ndeze wilden het eiland mogten rondzwerven, zij mijn te veld staande\ngraan of eenig ander werk van mij mogten vinden en vernielen, en\ndadelijk daaruit begrijpen, dat er menschen op het eiland waren. Dan\nzouden zij niet rusten voor zij mij gevonden hadden. Ik keerde dus in\nmijn kasteel terug, en trok de ladder achter mij op.\nDaarop maakte ik mij tot verdediging gereed. Ik laadde al mijn geschut,\ndat op mijne schans stond, en al mijne pistolen, en besloot mij ten\nuiterste te verdedigen, niet vergetende mij in Gods bescherming te\nbevelen en Hem te smeeken mij uit de handen der barbaren te redden. Ik\nbleef aldus twee uren, maar verlangde toen magtig te weten wat er\nomging, want ik kon geene verspieders uitzenden. Eindelijk kon ik deze\nonzekerheid niet langer verdragen, ik zette dus mijne ladder tegen de\nrots, en klom zoo naar den top. Daar ging ik plat op den grond liggen,\nen begon met mijn kijker naar hen uit te zien. Ik zag niet minder dan\nnegen naakte wilden rondom een vuur zitten, niet om zich te warmen, want\nhet was geweldig heet, maar naar ik denk, om een hunner afschuwelijke\ngastmalen van menschenvleesch te houden, dat zij levend of dood hadden\nmedegebragt.\nZij hadden twee kanoes aan het strand liggen, en daar het eb was,\nbegreep ik, dat zij op hoogwater wachtten, om weder in zee te gaan. Men\nkan zich niet begrijpen, welke verwarring dit gerigt bij mij te weeg\nbragt, vooral dat zij aan mijne zijde van het eiland en zoo digt bij mij\ngeland waren. Toen ik echter begreep, dat zij altijd alleen met de eb\nkonden komen, werd ik wat bedaarder, daar ik inzag, dat ik al den tijd,\ndat het hoogwater was, gerust van huis kon gaan, zoo zij alsdan niet\nvroeger aan wal waren gekomen. Hierdoor eenigzins gerust gesteld, ging\nmet meer gerustheid aan mijn oogst aan het werk.\nHet ging zoo als ik dacht, want zoodra de vloed doorkwam, zag ik hen\nallen naar hunne kanoes gaan, en heenroeijen, of liever pagaaijen. Ik\nmoet nog vermelden, dat een uur of zoo voor zij vertrokken, zij aan het\ndansen gingen, en ik kon door mijn kijker al hunne gebaren en houdingen\nduidelijk zien. Zij waren geheel naakt, schoon ik niet onderscheiden kon\nof het allen mannen dan of er ook vrouwen bij waren.\nZoodra ik hen vertrokken zag, nam ik twee geweren op schouder, stak twee\npistolen in mijn gordel met mijne sabel zonder scheede, en begaf mij zoo\nspoedig ik kon naar den heuvel, waar ik het eerste spoor van hen gezien\nhad. Zoodra ik daar kwam, waarmede twee uren verliepen (want ik kon zoo\nmet wapenen beladen, niet hard voort) bespeurde ik, dat er daar nog drie\nkanoes met wilden geweest waren, en verder op ziende, bemerkte ik, dat\nzij allen in zee waren gestoken en op het vaste land aanhielden.\nDit was een vreesselijk gezigt voor mij, vooral toen ik naar het strand\nafgaande, de blijken kon zien, die zij van hun afschuwelijk werk hadden\nachtergelaten; namelijk het bloed, de beenderen en een deel\nmenschenvleesch, dat deze rampzaligen daar met vreugde en vrolijkheid\nhadden verslonden. Dit gezigt vervulde mij met zoo veel\nverontwaardiging, dat ik thans voornam de eersten, die weder kwamen,\ndood te schieten, al waren er ook nog zooveel.\nHet scheen mij blijkbaar, dat de bezoeken, die zij aldus aan het eiland\ngaven, niet veelvuldig waren; want het duurde meer dan vijftien maanden\neer ik weder iets van hen zag. Gedurende het regensaizoen zouden zij\nzeker niet uitgaan, althans niet zoo ver van huis; echter was ik al dien\ntijd in gestadige onrust en vrees, dat zij mij onverwachts zouden\novervallen. Dit bragt mij tot de opmerking, dat de verwachting van eenig\nonheil erger is dan het ondergaan van hetzelve, vooral als men niet in\nstaat is zich van den angst of van die verwachting te ontslaan.\nAl dien tijd was ik in eene allerbloeddorstigste stemming, en besteedde\nmeest al mijnen tijd (dien ik beter had kunnen aanwenden) in te\noverwegen hoe ik de volgende maal, dat ik hen zag, hen zou overvallen en\naantasten, vooral als zij, gelijk de laatste maal het geval was, in twee\npartijen verdeeld zouden zijn. Ik bedacht echter niet, dat zoo ik de\neene week een troep doodde, ik de volgende week of maand een tweeden kon\nmoeten doodslaan, en zoo voorts tot in het oneindige, tot ik eindelijk\nniet minder een moordenaar zou zijn dan deze menscheneters, en misschien\nnog meer.\nDit alles deed mij thans mijne dagen in groote verslagenheid en angst\ndoorbrengen, daar ik verwachtte, dat ik, den een of anderen dag, in de\nhanden dezer me\u00eadoogenlooze barbaren zou vallen. Als ik nu en dan\nuitging, deed ik dit met de meeste voorzorg en zag onophoudelijk rond.\nNu zag ik in hoe gelukkig het was, dat ik mij eene kudde tamme geiten\nhad weten te verschaffen; want ik durfde volstrekt mijn geweer niet af\nte schieten, vooral niet bij dien kant van het eiland, waar zij\ngewoonlijk kwamen, ten einde hun geen alarm te geven; en al namen zij\neerst de vlugt voor mij, dan kon ik toch zeker rekenen, dat zij\nmisschien eenige dagen daarna met twee- of driehonderd kanoes zouden\nterugkeeren, en dan wist ik wat mijn lot zijn zou.\nHet duurde echter vijftien maanden voor ik iets van de wilden zag of\nhoorde, en toen vertoonden zij zich weder, zoo als ik straks verhalen\nzal. Wel is het mogelijk, dat zij er in dien tijd eens of tweemaal\ngeweest waren, maar dan kort en zonder dat ik er iets van gemerkt had,\ndoch in de maand Mei, zoo ver ik berekenen kan, en in mijn\nvierentwintigste jaar, had ik eene zeer zonderlinge ontmoeting, die ik\nzoo aanstonds verhalen zal.\nAl die vijftien of zestien maanden bragt ik in de grootste onrust door.\nIk sliep onrustig, had altijd akelige droomen, en werd dikwijls met\nschrik wakker. Over dag verbijsterde mij de angst en des nachts droomde\nik van het dooden van wilden, en zocht naar redenen, die dit\nregtvaardigden. Doch die zullen wij voor een oogenblik daar laten.\nOp zekeren dag, den 16den Mei, naar mijn houten almanak te rekenen, dien\nik nog dagelijks bijhield, woei het den geheelen dag een fellen storm\nmet donder en bliksem, en de nacht was even ruw. Ik zat in den Bijbel te\nlezen, en ernstig over mijn toestand na te denken, toen ik eensklaps\nschrikte van een kanonschot, dat, naar ik meende, in zee gelost werd.\nDit was een geheel andere verrassing dan de vroegere, en bragt mij\ngeheel andere denkbeelden in het hoofd. In een oogenblik stond mijne\nladder tegen de rots; ik haalde die op, en beklom toen den top; op dat\noogenblik deed eene flikkering van vuur mij een tweede schot verwachten,\nwelks geluid ik ook eene halve minuut daarna hoorde, en daaruit vernam,\ndat het van dien kant van de zee kwam, waar ik in mijne boot door de\nstrooming in zee was gedreven.\nOogenblikkelijk begreep ik, dat er een schip in nood was, en dat het\neen ander in de nabijheid had, en noodschoten deed om hulp te vragen. Ik\nhad tegenwoordigheid van geest genoeg, om te begrijpen, dat zoo ik hen\nniet kon helpen, zij dit mij konden doen; dus haalde ik al het drooge\nhout bijeen, dat ik vinden kon, stapelde het op een hoop en stak het in\nbrand. Het hout was droog en brandde fel op, en hoe hard het ook woei,\nbrandde het geheel op, zoodat als er een schip was, men het daar zien\nmoest. Ongetwijfeld was dit ook zoo, want zoodra het vuur opbrandde,\ndeed men weder een schot en naderhand nog verscheidene. Ik hield het\nvuur den geheelen nacht aan, en toen het dag werd en de lucht opklaarde,\nzag ik op een grooten afstand in zee een zeil of een romp van een schip.\nDe afstand was te groot en het weder nog wat mistig, om met mijn kijker\ner meer van te kunnen onderscheiden.\nDikwijls zag ik er dien dag naar uit, en bemerkte spoedig, dat het stil\nlag; dus begreep ik, dat het een schip was, dat voor anker lag, en\nverlangende het juiste te weten, gelijk men wel kan denken, liep ik, met\nmijn geweer in de hand, naar den Zuidoostkant van het eiland, naar de\nklippen, waar de strooming mij vroeger had medegesleept, en daar\ngekomen, en het weder thans geheel opgeklaard zijnde, zag ik duidelijk,\ntot mijn groot verdriet, het wrak van een schip, dat in den nacht op\ndeze blinde klippen geworpen was, die ik, toen ik in mijne boot was, had\naangetroffen, en welke klippen daar de kracht van den stroom stuitten,\nen eene soort van tegenstroom vormden, die mij toen uit den\nhagchelijksten toestand, waarin ik ooit in mijn geheele leven geweest\nwas, had gered.\nWat echter den een redt, stort den ander in het verderf, want het\nschijnt, dat deze menschen, buiten hun bestek geslagen, geen kennis\ndroegen van die geheel onder water staande klippen, en daar de wind des\nnachts fel uit het O. en O. N. O. geblazen had, er op geslagen waren.\nOngetwijfeld zouden zij getracht hebben zich met de boot te redden, maar\nhunne noodschoten, vooral toen zij, naar ik mij verbeeldde, mijn vuur\ngezien hadden, bragten mij op verschillende gedachten. Eerst begreep ik,\ndat zij, op het zien van mijn vuur, zich in de boot begeven hadden, en\ngetracht het strand te bereiken, maar door de hooge zee weggeslagen\nwaren. Dan weder verbeeldde ik mij, dat zij vroeger hunne boot zouden\nverloren hebben, gelijk meermalen gebeurt, vooral door het overkomen van\nzware stortzee\u00ebn, die het volk dikwijls dwingen de verbrijzelde sloep\nmet eigen handen over boord te werpen. Dan weder vermoedde ik, dat zij\nandere schepen bij zich hadden gehad, en deze op hunne noodschoten hen\nopgenomen en gered hadden. Dan weder verbeeldde ik mij, dat zij allen in\nde boot gegaan waren, en door de strooming op den wijden oceaan\ngeslagen, waar niets dan de dood hun wachtte, en dat zij thans misschien\ndachten van honger te sterven en in eenen toestand waren om elkander te\nverslinden.\nDit alles waren evenwel slechts gissingen, en ik kon niets doen dan hen\nbeklagen, hetgeen echter nog die goede uitwerking op mij had, dat het\nmij meer en meer aanleiding gaf om God te danken, dat Hij zoo liefderijk\nvoor mij in mijn verlaten toestand gezorgd had; en dat van twee\nscheepsbemanningen, die nu in dezen hoek der wereld gedreven waren, geen\nander leven dan het mijne gespaard was. Op nieuw moest ik hier opmerken,\ndat Gods voorzienigheid ons zeer zelden in zulk een jammerlijken\ntoestand of in zoo groote ellende doet vallen, waarin wij niet voor het\neen of ander mogen dankbaar zijn, en bespeuren, dat anderen er nog erger\naan toe zijn dan wij.\nIn dit laatste geval was zeker deze bemanning, waarvan ik niet mogt\nonderstellen, dat een gered was; niets kon doen vermoeden, dat zij niet\nallen vergaan waren, dan de mogelijkheid, dat zij door een ander schip\nwaren opgenomen; en dit was niet waarschijnlijk, want ik zag daar niet\nhet minste blijk van.\nHet is mij volstrekt onmogelijk met woorden uit te drukken, welk een\nvurig verlangen mijne ziel verteerde bij het zien van het wrak, en hoe\ndikwijls ik uitriep: \"O, waren er slechts twee, slechts \u00e9\u00e9ne ziel gered,\ndie mij gevonden had, zoo dat ik een makker, een natuurgenoot had, tot\nwien ik spreken en met wien ik omgaan kon!\" Gedurende geheel mijn\neenzaam leven had ik zulk een hevig verlangen niet gehad naar het\ngezelschap van een mijner medemenschen, noch zulk een diepe spijt over\ndeszelfs gemis. Er bestaan in onze hartstogten zekere drijfveren, die\nzoo zij door eenig zigtbaar voorwerp of door de werking van onze\nverbeelding gaande gemaakt worden, onze ziel zoo krachtig daarheen doen\nneigen, dat deszelfs gemis ondragelijk wordt. Zoo ging het mij met den\nwensch, dat er slechts een man gered ware geworden: \"Ware er slechts\n\u00e9\u00e9n, slechts \u00e9\u00e9n mensch het ontkomen!\" Duizendmaal, geloof ik, herhaalde\nik deze woorden, en dan wrong ik zoo hevig de handen, dat zoo er eenig\nvoorwerp in geweest ware, het verbrijzeld zou geworden zijn, en ik\nklemde mijne tanden zoo stijf opeen, dat ik eenigen tijd den mond niet\nopenen kon. De natuurkundigen mogen mijnenthalve het verklaren; ik kan\nslechts mededeelen wat er gebeurde, en hoe ik zelf mij er over\nverbaasde. Ongetwijfeld was dit de uitwerking van mijn vurigen wensch,\nen mijne gespannen verbeelding over het genoegen, dat de verkeering met\neen mijner mede-christenen mij zou opgeleverd hebben.\nDoch dit mogt zoo niet zijn; hun lot of het mijne was anders besloten;\nwant tot het laatste jaar van mijn verblijf op het eiland wist ik niet\nof er iemand uit het schip gered was of niet; alleen had ik eenige dagen\nlater het verdriet, het lijk van een verdronken jongen aan land te zien\nspoelen, aan het einde des eilands, digt bij de plaats der schipbreuk.\nHij had geene andere kleederen aan dan een matrozenbuisje, een linnen\nbroek en een blaauw hemd; maar niets, waaruit ik gissen kon, tot welke\nnatie hij behoorde. Hij had niets in zijn zak dan twee stukken van\nachten en eene tabakspijp, de laatste was mij tienmalen meer van waarde\ndan de eersten.\nHet was nu stil en ik verlangde zeer in mijne boot naar het wrak te\ngaan, niet twijfelende of ik zou aan boord wel iets vinden, dat mij van\nnut kon zijn; doch dit was niet mijne sterkste drijfveer, maar wel de\nmogelijkheid, dat er nog een levend wezen aan boord zou zijn, wiens\nleven ik redden kon niet alleen, maar daardoor tevens mijn eigen lot ten\nuiterste verzoeten. Dit denkbeeld lag mij zoo aan het hart, dat ik dag\nnoch nacht rust had; maar besloot in mijne boot mij naar het wrak te\nwagen, en den uitslag aan Gods voorzienigheid over te laten. De indruk,\ndien dit op mijn geest gemaakt had, was zoo sterk, dat ik meende dien\nniet te kunnen wederstaan, en begreep, dat eene onzigtbare magt mij\ndaartoe aandreef, en ik mij zelven nadeel meende te doen, als ik dien\nniet opvolgde.\nHierdoor aangedreven, spoedde ik mij naar mijn kasteel, maakte alles tot\nmijne reis gereed, nam wat brood, eene groote pot vol zoet water, een\nkompas om naar te sturen, een flesch rum (want ik had daar nog vrij wat\nvan) en eene mand vol rozijnen, en aldus met al het noodige beladen,\nging ik naar mijne boot, schepte er het water uit, en maakte haar vlot,\nlegde er mijne lading in, en ging meer van huis halen. Mijne tweede\nlading bestond uit een zak vol rijst, mijn zonnescherm, om mij voor zon\nen regen te beschutten, nog eene groote pot vol water en ongeveer twee\ndozijn van mijne brooden of koeken, benevens eene flesch geitenmelk en\neene kaas. Dit alles bragt ik onder veel arbeid en zweet naar mijne\nboot, en na God voor den gelukkigen afloop der reis gebeden te hebben,\nstak ik af, en de kanoe langs het strand roeijende of pagaaijende, kwam\nik eindelijk aan het einde van het eiland aan dien kant, namelijk aan\nhet N. O. Nu moest ik, als ik het wagen durfde, in zee steken. Ik sloeg\neen blik op de felle stroomingen, die gestadig op eenigen afstand aan\nweerszijden van het eiland liepen, en die door de herinnering van het\ngevaar, dat zij mij hadden doen loopen, voor mij zeer vreesselijk waren;\nen toen begon mijn moed te bezwijken, want ik voorzag, dat als ik in\neene dier stroomingen geraakte, ik een groot eind weegs in zee zou\ngedreven worden, misschien zoo ver, dat ik het eiland niet meer bereiken\nof zien zou, en daar mijne boot maar klein was, ware ik, zoodra maar de\nwind opwakkerde tot eene stijve koelte, onvermijdelijk verloren.\nDeze denkbeelden maakten mij zoo ne\u00earslagtig, dat ik mijne onderneming\nbegon op te geven, en na mijne boot in eene kleine kreek aan het strand\ngebragt te hebben, er uitstapte, en op eene kleine hoogte zitten ging,\nzeer bedrukt en bezorgd, weifelend tusschen vrees en verlangen om de\nreis te doen. Terwijl ik zoo zat, bemerkte ik, dat het getij kenterde en\nde vloed doorkwam, waardoor mijn vertrek, zoo lang deze aanhield,\nonuitvoerbaar werd. Nu viel het mij in, dat het best ware op de hoogste\nplek gronds te gaan, die ik vinden kon, en, als ik kon, waarnemen hoe de\nstroomingen met het getij liepen, wanneer de vloed doorkwam, zoo dat ik\noordeelen kon, dat als ik eens langs den eenen weg naar buiten gedreven\nwerd, of ik ook hopen kon langs een anderen weg naar binnen gedreven te\nworden, met de stroomingen. Naauwelijks kwam dit denkbeeld bij mij op,\nof ik sloeg mijn oog op een heuvel, vanwaar ik de zee aan weerszijden\nvoldoende overzien kon, en waar ik een duidelijk gezigt van de\nstroomingen had, en hoe ik op mijn terugreis sturen moest. Ik vond, dat\nde strooming van de eb digt langs de zuidelijke punt van het eiland heen\nliep, terwijl de strooming van den vloed aan de noordelijke zijde digt\nlangs het strand liep, en ik dus niets te doen had dan bij mijne\nterugkomst de noordzijde van het eiland te houden.\nHierdoor aangemoedigd, besloot ik den volgenden morgen met het begin van\nhet getij uit te gaan, gelijk ik deed, na dien nacht in de kanoe, onder\nde dikke jas, geslapen te hebben. Ik stuurde eerst een eindweegs in zee\nregt noordwaarts aan, tot ik de kracht van de strooming begon te\nbemerken, die mij oostwaarts en met vrij groote snelheid voortdreef,\nmaar niet zoo geweldig als de zuidelijke strooming te voren gedaan had,\nen mij het bestuur over mijne boot latende, zoo dat ik die, met mijn\nroeiriem sturende, met groote snelheid regt op het wrak aanhield, en het\nbinnen twee uren bereikte.\nHet was een treurig gezigt; het schip, dat van Spaansche bouworde was,\nzat tusschen twee rotsen vastgeklemd; de zee had het van achteren en op\nzijde reeds geheel aan stukken geslagen, en daar het voorschip met\ngroot geweld tusschen de klippen was geworpen, waren de fokke en groote\nmast kort afgebroken, maar de boegspriet was heel en de voorsteven\nscheen nog geheel onbeschadigd. Toen ik dezen naderde kwam er een hond\nte voorschijn, die, mij ziende, begon te janken en te blaffen, en zoodra\nik hem riep, in zee sprong en naar mij toezwom. Ik nam hem in de boot,\nmaar hij was halfdood van honger en dorst. Ik gaf hem een stuk brood en\nhij at als een wolf, die veertien dagen lang honger geleden heeft. Toen\ngaf ik hem wat zoet water, maar zoo ik hem had laten begaan, zou hij\nzich te bersten hebben gedronken.\nDaarna ging ik aan boord. Het eerst wat ik zag was twee mannen, die in\nde konstapelskamer verdronken waren, met de armen stijf om elkander\ngeslagen. Ik begreep, gelijk zeer waarschijnlijk was, dat toen het schip\nin den storm vastraakte, de zee zoo hoog liep en er zoo hevig in gekomen\nwas, dat deze arme lieden er door verdronken of gesmoord waren, zoo goed\nals of zij onder water hadden gelegen. Behalve den hond was er geen\nlevend schepsel aan boord, en voor zoo verre ik zien kon, geene\ngoederen, die niet door het water bedorven waren. Lager in het ruim\nlagen eenige vaten met wijn of sterken drank, die ik, toen het water op\nhet laagst was, zien kon, maar zij waren voor mij te zwaar. Ik zag\nverscheidene kisten, die waarschijnlijk aan de matrozen behoord hadden,\nen ik nam er twee van in de boot, zonder te onderzoeken wat er in was.\nZoo het schip van achteren vast gezeten had, en het voorschip\nverbrijzeld ware geweest, zou ik eene zeer goede reis gedaan hebben,\nwant naar hetgeen ik in die twee kisten vond, begreep ik, dat het schip\nzeer rijk geladen moest geweest zijn; en naar den koers, dien het\ngehouden had, te rekenen, was het waarschijnlijk bestemd naar Buenos\nAyros of Rio de la Plata, boven Brazili\u00eb, vandaar naar de Havanna, en\nzoo misschien naar Spanje. Er waren zeker groote schatten in, maar daar\nhad ik niets aan, en ik wist niet waar de bemanning gebleven was.\nBehalve deze twee kisten vond ik een vaatje sterken drank van ongeveer\ntwintig flesschen, dat ik met veel moeite in mijne boot bragt. In eene\nhut vond ik eene menigte geweren en een grooten kruidhoorn met ongeveer\nvier pond kruid; daar ik de geweren niet noodig had, liet ik die liggen\nen nam den kruidhoorn alleen mede. Ook nam ik mede een blaasbalg en een\ntang, die ik beide hoog noodig had, als ook twee koperen keteltjes, een\nchocoladepot en een rooster, en met dit alles, benevens den hond,\nvertrok ik, daar het getij mij naar huis dreef, en denzelfden avond,\nongeveer een uur na zonsondergang bereikte ik het eiland weder, uiterst\nvermoeid van dezen togt.\nIk sliep dien nacht in de boot, en den volgenden morgen besloot ik\nhetgeen ik medegebragt had, in mijn nieuw ontdekte grot, en niet naar\nmijn kasteel te brengen. Na ontbeten te hebben, bragt ik al mijne lading\naan den wal en begon die na te zien. Het vaatje met sterken drank was\nvol rum, zoo als wij in Brazili\u00eb hadden, dat wil zeggen, die niets\ndeugde. Maar bij het openen der kisten vond ik verscheidene zaken, die\nmij ontbraken; in een vond ik bij voorbeeld een zeer fraaije\nflesschenkelder, geheel met allerlei fijne likeuren, in flesschen met\nzilveren stoppen, gevuld. Ik vond twee potten met confituren, zoo goed\ndigt gemaakt, dat het water er niet had kunnen bijkomen, en nog twee,\ndie bedorven waren, bovendien vond ik eenige zeer goede hemden, die mij\nzeer aangenaam waren, en anderhalf dozijn witte en gekleurde zakdoeken,\ndie mij zeer goed te pas kwamen, om op een warmen dag mijn zweet af te\ndroogen. Bovendien vond ik onder in de kist drie groote zakken, te zamen\nongeveer elfhonderd stukken van achten bevattende, en zes gouden\ndubloenen in een papier gewikkeld, en nog eenige kleine staven goud, die\nik denk, dat gezamenlijk een pond zouden wegen.\nIn de andere kist waren eenige kleederen, doch van minder waarde; ik\ndenk, dat die aan den konstapelsmaat behoord had, schoon er geen kruid\nin was dan een paar pond zeer fijn, dat in drie fleschjes was, en naar\nik denk, bestemd was om voor jagtgeweren te gebruiken. Over het geheel\nhad ik op deze reis weinig opgedaan wat mij van nut was; want het geld\nwas mij niet meer waard dan het slijk onder mijne voeten; en ik had\nalles wel willen geven voor drie of vier paar Engelsche schoenen en\nkousen, daar ik groot gebrek aan had en die ik in vele jaren niet aan\nmijne voeten gedragen had. Ik had nu, wel is waar, twee paar schoenen,\ndie ik den twee verdronken mannen, die ik op het wrak vond, van de\nbeenen had genomen; maar zij waren noch zoo stevig, noch zoo gemakkelijk\nals onze Engelsche schoenen, maar geleken meer naar dansschoenen. Ik\nvond in deze matrozenkist ongeveer vijftig stukken van achten, maar geen\ngoud, ik begreep dus, dat de eerste kist aan een officier toebehoord\nhad.\nIk bragt het geld naar mijne grot en legde het neder, gelijk ik vroeger\ngedaan had met dat, hetwelk ik uit ons eigen schip gehaald had; maar het\nwas zeer jammer, dat het andere einde van het schip niet voor mij\ntoegankelijk was geweest, want ik had mijne kanoe dan zeker\nverscheidene malen vol met geld kunnen laden, en zoo ik ooit naar\nEngeland had kunnen komen, had het daar veilig genoeg kunnen liggen, tot\nik terug kwam, om het te halen.\nNa alles aan wal gebragt en geborgen te hebben, ging ik naar mijne boot\nterug en bragt die langs het strand naar hare oude haven; daarna keerde\nik naar mijne woning terug, waar ik alles in orde vond. Ik rustte thans\nvan mijne vermoeijenissen, leefde op mijne oude wijze, en zorgde voor\nmijne huishouding. Eene poos leefde ik zeer rustig, behalve dat ik\nwaakzamer dan gewoonlijk was, meermalen naar zee zag en niet dikwijls\nuitging, en zoo ik een togtje naar het eiland deed, was dit altijd naar\nde oostzijde, waar ik vrij zeker was, dat de wilden nimmer kwamen, en\nwaar ik, zonder zoo vele voorzorgen en al die zwaarte van kruid en lood\nen wapens, gaan kon, die ik altijd medesleepte, als ik den anderen kant\nuitging.\nIk bragt bijkans twee jaren in dien toestand door, maar mijn ongelukkig\nhoofd, dat geschapen scheen om mij alle soort van ellende aan te\nbrengen, was al dien tijd opgevuld met ontwerpen, hoe ik, als het\nmogelijk was, van dit eiland af zou raken; dan wilde ik eene tweede reis\nnaar het wrak doen, schoon mijn verstand mij zeide, dat er niets was,\nwat de gevaren der reis zou beloonen; somtijds wilde ik dezen of dien\nweg heen een togtje doen, en ik geloof waarlijk, dat zoo ik de boot had\nbezeten, waarmede ik te Sal\u00e9 in zee stak, ik op goed geluk in zee zou\ngegaan zijn. In alle mijne lotgevallen was ik een waarschuwend voorbeeld\nvoor hen, die met de gewone kwaal behebt zijn, waaruit ik geloof, dat de\nhelft der menschelijke ellenden voortvloeijen, namelijk dat men niet\ntevreden is met den staat, waarin God en de natuur ons geplaatst hebben.\nWant zonder nu terug te komen op mijne eerste bestemming, en de\nuitstekende raadgevingen mijns vaders, welker tegenstreving ik mijne\noorspronkelijke zonde noemen mag, waren mijne volgende misslagen van\ndien aard de oorzaken van mijn tegenwoordigen rampzaligen toestand. Want\nzoo de Voorzienigheid, die mij in Brazili\u00eb zoo gelukkig als planter\ngevestigd had, mij gematigde begeerten geschonken had, en hadde ik mij\ntevreden gesteld met langzaam vooruit te gaan, dan kon ik in den tijd,\ndien ik thans op het eiland had doorgebragt, een der aanzienlijkste\nplanters van Brazili\u00eb geweest zijn, ja, ik ben overtuigd, dat ik, naar\nde wijze, waarop ik reeds vooruitgegaan was, ik thans ligtelijk\nhonderdduizend moidores rijk had kunnen zijn. Wat behoefde ik ook eene\nwinstgevende zaak, een goed ingerigte plantaadje te verlaten, om als\nsupercargo naar de kust van Guinea te gaan, om slaven te halen, terwijl\nmet der tijd en geduld onzen rijkdom zoo vermeerderd zou hebben, dat wij\ngemakkelijk hen voor onze deur hadden kunnen koopen, van degenen, wier\ntaak het was hen te halen. Al had dit iets meer gekost, die hooger prijs\nverdiende niet met zoo veel gevaar uitgewonnen te worden. Maar\ngewoonlijk handelen jonge lieden zoo, terwijl zij eerst bij meerdere\njaren en duurgekochte ervaring de dwaasheid daarvan inzien. Zoo ging het\nmij ook, maar toch had die verkeerde neiging zoo diep in mijn geest\nwortel geschoten, dat ik in mijn tegenwoordigen toestand niet tevreden\nwas, maar aanhoudend peinsde over de mogelijkheid en de middelen, om van\ndeze plaats te ontkomen. En ten einde de lezer mijn verder verhaal te\naangenamer zij, zal het niet ongepast zijn eenig verslag van mijne\neerste ontwerpen aangaande mijne ontkoming te geven, en op welken grond\nik handelde.\nMen verbeelde zich thans, dat ik na mijne laatste reis naar het wrak, in\nhet kasteel teruggekeerd ben, mijn schip is geborgen en onder water\ngelegd, als gewoonlijk, en mijn toestand dezelfde als vroeger. Ik had nu\nzeker meer geld dan te voren, maar was er niet rijker om, want ik kon\nhet evenmin gebruiken als de Indianen te Peru hun goud, voor de\nSpanjaarden daar kwamen.\nIn een der nachten, in het regensaizoen, in Maart, het vierentwintigste\njaar van mijn verblijf in dit eenzaam eiland, lag ik in mijn bed of\nhangmat, wakker, zeer gezond, ik had geenerlei pijn of ongemak, en ook\ngeene meerdere gemoedskwelling dan anders, maar kon toch niet slapen,\nzelfs geen oogenblik insluimeren. Het is even onmogelijk als noodeloos\nde menigte van gedachten te vermelden, die gedurende dien geheelen nacht\nbij mij opkwamen. Mijn geheele leven kwam mij als in een kort bestek,\nachtervolgens voor den geest, tot aan mijne komst op het eiland, en even\nzoo dat gedeelte mijns levens, dat ik op hetzelve doorgebragt had.\nTerwijl ik mijnen toestand alhier sedert ik aan wal gekomen was, lag te\noverpeinzen, vergeleek ik den gelukkigen gang der zaken in het eerste\njaar van mijn verblijf alhier, met dien voortdurenden angst, vrees en\nzorg, waarin ik steeds geleefd had, sedert ik een afdruk van een voet op\nhet zand gezien had. Ik geloofde wel niet, dat de wilden het eiland al\ndien tijd aanhoudend bezocht hadden, en er honderden malen aan wal\ngeweest waren; maar daar ik er toen niets van wist en dus volstrekt\ngeene vrees voor voeden kon, was ik volkomen gerust, schoon het gevaar\neven eens was; en bij mijne onbekendheid met hetzelve was ik even\nwelgemoed alsof ik er in het geheel niet aan blootgesteld was. Dit bragt\nmij op verscheidene nuttige opmerkingen, en bijzonder op deze, hoe\noneindig goed de Voorzienigheid is, die den mensch zoo kortzigtig heeft\ngemaakt, waardoor hij, ofschoon te midden van vele duizenden gevaren,\nwelke, zoo hij ze bespeurde, hem geheel verbijsteren zouden, volkomen\nkalm en gerust blijft, omdat hij de gevaren, die hem omringen, ziet noch\nkent.\nNadat deze gedachten mij eenigen tijd hadden bezig gehouden, dacht ik\nernstig na over het wezenlijk gevaar, dat ik op dit eiland zoo vele\njaren geloopen had, en hoe ik altijd met de grootste gerustheid\nrondgezworven had, terwijl misschien niets dan de top eens heuvels, de\nstam eens booms of het invallen van de duisternis tusschen mij en den\nergsten dood geweest was, dien namelijk, van in de handen van\nmenschenetende wilden te vallen, die mij zouden beschouwd hebben met\nhetzelfde oog, waarmede ik een geitje of schildpad aanzag, en even\nweinig zwarigheid er in zouden gevonden hebben, mij te slagten en op te\neten, als ik een duif of een wulp. Ik zou de waarheid te kort doen als\nik niet zeide, dat ik opregt dankbaar was aan mijn Behoeder, aan wiens\nbijzondere bescherming ik nederig erkende al mijne redding uit deze\nonbekende gevaren verschuldigd te zijn, en zonder welke ik\nonvermijdelijk in hunne wreedaardige handen zou gevallen zijn.\nToen deze gedachten voorbij waren, hield ik mij eenigen tijd bezig met\nhet overwegen van den aard van deze rampzaligen, ik meen de wilden, en\nhoe het kwam, dat de alwijze Bestierder der wereld aan eenige zijner\nschepselen zulke barbaarschheid toeliet, ja, dat beneden het\nbeestachtige was, van namelijk zijns gelijken te verslinden. Doch dit\nbleef bij eenige vruchtelooze bespiegelingen, maar bragt mij op het\nnagaan in welk deel der wereld deze rampzaligen leefden, hoe ver de kust\nwas vanwaar zij kwamen, waarom zij zich zoo ver van huis begaven, en\nwaarom ik het niet zoo ver kon brengen, dat ik in staat was naar hen toe\nte gaan, zoo goed als zij tot mij over kwamen.\nIk bekommerde er mij op dat oogenblik niet om, wat ik doen zou om daar\nte komen; wat er van mij worden zou als ik den wilden in handen viel, of\nhoe ik, zoo zij mij vervolgden, hun zou kunnen ontsnappen; zelfs niet\nhoe het mogelijk zou zijn de kust te bereiken, zonder dat eenigen hunner\nmij aanvallen zouden, zonder dat ik hoop had van te ontkomen, en als ik\nniet in hunne handen viel, wat ik doen zou om leeftogt te bekomen of\nwelken koers ik nemen zou; geen dezer gedachten kwam zelfs bij mij op;\nmaar mijn geest hield zich alleen bezig met het denkbeeld van in mijne\nboot naar het vaste land over te steken. Ik beschouwde thans mijn\ntoestand, als de ongelukkigste, die er zijn kon; en dat niets erger kon\nworden voor mij, dan alleen de dood; dat zoo ik de kust van het vaste\nland bereikte, ik misschien redding kon vinden, of langs het strand\ngaan, gelijk ik in Afrika gedaan had, toen ik aan een bewoond land kwam.\nMisschien kon ik ook een Europeesch schip ontmoeten, dat mij opnam, en\nzoo al het ergste gebeurde, kon ik slechts den dood vinden, die in eens\naan al mijne ellenden een einde zou maken. Men bedenke, dat dit alles de\nvrucht was van een overspannen en ongeduldig gemoed, dat als het ware\nwanhopig was geworden door het langdurige mijner zorgen, en de\nteleurstelling, die mij op het wrak, waarop ik geweest was, wedervaren\nwas, waar ik zoo nabij de vervulling van mijne vurigste wenschen geweest\nwas, namelijk iemand tot wien ik spreken en van wien ik eenige kennis\nnopens de plaats waar ik mij bevond, verkrijgen kon. Ik was geheel\nontroerd door deze bedenkingen. Al mijne gemoedsrust, mijne onderwerping\naan de Voorzienigheid en mijne berusting in des Hemels raadsbesluiten,\nschenen verdwenen, en ik kon mijne gedachten nergens anders op vestigen\ndan op het ontwerp eener reis naar het vasteland, dat mij met zoo veel\nkracht en zoo geweldig overviel, dat ik dit niet weerstaan kon.\nNadat mij dit twee uren of langer het hoofd zoo op hol had gebragt, dat\nmijn bloed kookte en mijn pols klopte alsof ik de koorts had, alleen\ndoor de drift mijner denkbeelden, deed de natuur, daar ik door het\nwoelen dezer gedachten zeer uitgeput was, mij in een diepen slaap\nvallen. Men zou denken, dat ik er van had moeten droomen, maar dat was\nhet geval niet, ook niet van iets wat daarop betrekking had; maar ik\ndroomde, dat ik in den morgen, gelijk gewoonlijk, buiten mijn kasteel\nging, en op het strand twee kanoes zag, waaruit elf wilden stapten, en\ndat zij een anderen wilde medebragten, dien zij wilden dooden om hem op\nte eten, maar juist toen zij hem wilden slagten, rukte de wilde zich\nplotseling los, en nam de vlugt. Daarop verbeeldde ik mij, dat hij door\nhet digte bosch voor mijne vesting zwierf om zich daarin te verbergen;\nen dat ik, ziende dat hij alleen was, en niet bemerkende, dat de anderen\nhem dien kant uit zochten, mij aan hem vertoonde, met bemoedigende\ngebaren; dat hij voor mij knielde, en mij om bijstand scheen te smeeken,\nwaarop ik hem mijne ladder wees, hem die deed opstijgen, en hem in mijn\nkelder bragt, waar hij mijn knecht werd, en zoodra ik dien man verkregen\nhad, zeide ik tot mijzelven: \"Nu kan ik mij gerust naar het vaste land\nwagen; want deze man kan mij tot loods strekken, en zal mij zeggen wat\nik doen moet en waar ik lijftogt kan bekomen, en waar ik niet gaan moet\nom niet verslonden te worden; in welke plaatsen ik mij wagen kan en\nwelke ik ontwijken moet!\" Met deze gedachten ontwaakte ik, en was zoo\nonbeschrijfelijk verheugd over het vooruitzigt mijner ontkoming in den\ndroom, dat de teleurstelling, die ik gevoelde, toen ik tot mijzelven\nkomende, bevond, dat het slechts een droom was, even buitensporig was,\nen mij geheel ne\u00earslagtig maakte.\nIk besloot echter bij deze gelegenheid, dat de eenigste weg, dien ik had\nom eene ontkoming te beproeven, daarin bestond om zoo mogelijk een wilde\nin mijne magt te erlangen, en als het kon een hunner gevangenen, dien\nzij veroordeeld hadden om gegeten te worden, en hierheen bragten om te\nslagten. Maar hier deed zich nog de zwarigheid op, dat dit onmogelijk\nwas zonder een geheelen troep van hen aan te vallen en hen allen te\ndooden; en dit was niet alleen een zeer roekelooze aanslag, die ligt kon\nmislukken, maar ik twijfelde aan den anderen kant of hij wel geoorloofd\nwas, en mijn hart beefde bij de gedachte van zooveel bloed te vergieten,\nal was het ook ter mijner bevrijding. Ik behoef de redenen hier niet te\nherhalen, die zich bij mij hier tegen stelden, daar het dezelfde waren\nals vroeger, maar schoon ik nu andere redenen had, namelijk, dat het\nvijanden van mij waren, en zij mij zouden slagten als zij konden; dat\nhet niet dan zelfbehoud was om mij uit een toestand te redden, die erger\ndan de dood was, en dat ik even goed tot mijne zelfverdediging handelde,\nals wanneer ik werkelijk door hen aangevallen werd, en zoo voorts; toch\nkon ik mij met het denkbeeld van zoo veel menschenbloed te vergieten,\nniet vereenigen.\nEindelijk echter, na lang met mij zelven getwist en op twee gedachten\ngehinkt te hebben, behield het verlangen naar mijne bevrijding de\noverhand, en ik besloot, mij van een dier wilden meester te maken, het\nkostte wat het wilde. Nu was de vraag hoe ik dit aanleggen zou, en deze\nwas niet gemakkelijk te beantwoorden; maar daar ik er geene\nwaarschijnlijke middelen toe kon uitdenken, besloot ik de wacht te\nhouden, om te zien als zij aan wal kwamen, en het overige aan het lot\nover te laten, en zulke maatregelen te nemen als de omstandigheden\nzouden vereischen.\nMet dit voornemen ging ik zoo dikwijls mogelijk op bespieding uit, tot\ndat het mij ten laatste hartelijk begon te vervelen; want het duurde\nmeer dan anderhalf jaar, dat ik schier elken dag vruchteloos naar den\nwestelijken en zuidwestelijken hoek van het eiland ging, om naar de\nkanoes uit te zien, doch er kwamen geene te voorschijn. Dit was zeer\nontmoedigend, en daar ik niet kan zeggen, gelijk anders het geval was,\ndat met der tijd mijn verlangen verdween, werd ik er te gretiger naar\nhoe langer het duurde. Ik verlangde nu evenzeer naar de wilden als ik\nvroeger ze verlangde te vermijden. Ik vleide mij zelfs een, ja twee of\ndrie wilden te verkrijgen, en die geheel tot mijne slaven te maken, om\nte doen wat ik hun zou gelasten, terwijl ik te gelijk belette, dat zij\nmij eenig leed deden. Lang verheugde ik mij met dit denkbeeld, maar er\nscheen niets van te zullen komen, al mijne verwachtingen waren\nvruchteloos, want gedurende een langen tijd kwamen er geene wilden\nopdagen.\nOngeveer anderhalf jaar na dat ik mij deze denkbeelden het eerst in het\nhoofd had gehaald, en toen ik reeds dacht, dat er nimmer iets van komen\nzou, werd ik op een morgen verrast door het zien van niet minder dan\nvijf kanoes, die allen aan mijne zijde van het eiland op het strand\nzaten, terwijl al de daarbij behoorende lieden aan land en buiten mijn\ngezigt waren. Hun aantal verijdelde al mijne voornemens, ik wist, dat er\naltijd vijf of zes en soms meer in eene kanoe kwamen, en wist dus niet\nhoe ik alleen twintig of dertig menschen zou aantasten, dus bleef ik\nmisnoegd en teleurgesteld in mijn kasteel. Ik maakte echter alles tot\neen aanval gereed als de gelegenheid zich mogt voordoen. Na eene lange\npoos gewacht te hebben of ik ook eenig gerucht hoorde, werd ik\nongeduldig, en klom met mijne ladder tot boven op den heuvel, en bleef\ndaar zoo staan, dat men mijn hoofd niet boven den heuvel kon uitzien, en\nzij mij volstrekt niet konden gewaar worden. Hier bespeurde ik met\nbehulp van mijn kijker, dat zij niet minder dan vijfendertig in getal\nwaren, dat zij een vuur aangemaakt en vleesch toebereid hadden; hoe zij\nhet braadden of wat het was, wist ik niet; maar zij dansten allen met\nallerlei zonderlinge en barbaarsche gebaren rondom het vuur.\nTerwijl ik hen aldus gadesloeg, zag ik, dat men twee ongelukkigen uit de\nkanoes haalde, waarin zij, naar het schijnt, gelegen hadden, en thans\nter slagtbank leidde. Een hunner viel oogenblikkelijk neder, naar ik\ndenk, nedergeveld door een knods of houten zwaard, gelijk zij gebruiken,\nen twee of drie hunner begonnen hem aan stukken te houwen. Het andere\nslagtoffer bleef staan, in afwachting, dat het zijne beurt werd. Op dit\noogenblik, terwijl deze ongelukkige zich eenigermate in vrijheid zag,\nontwaakte bij hem de zucht tot zelfbehoud; hij nam de vlugt, en liep met\nonbegrijpelijke snelheid langs het strand, regt op mij aan, dat is te\nzeggen, naar dat gedeelte van de kust, waar mijne woning stond. Ik moet\nbekennen, dat ik vreesselijk schrikte, toen hij mijn kant uit kwam, en\nvooral toen ik verwachtte, dat allen hem zouden volgen. Nu verwachtte\nik, dat mijn droom zou uitkomen en hij in mijne schans eene schuilplaats\nzou zoeken, maar ik kon er niet op rekenen, dat, even als in mijn droom,\nde andere wilden hem niet zouden vervolgen en daar vinden. Ik bleef\nechter staan en begon weder moed te scheppen, toen ik bemerkte, dat\nslechts drie man hem volgden, en vooral toen ik zag, dat hij veel harder\nliep dan zij en grond op hen won, zoodat ik begreep, dat, als hij het\nnog een half uur kon uithouden, hij buiten hun bereik zou zijn.\nTusschen hen en mijn kasteel lag de kreek, waarvan ik vroeger gesproken\nheb, en in welke ik mijne ladingen uit het schip aan land bragt, en ik\nwist, dat hij deze overzwemmen moest, anders zou hij gegrepen worden.\nToen de wilde echter deze kreek bereikte, sprong hij er dadelijk in,\nhoewel het hoog water was, en zwom naar de overzijde, waar hij met\nverbazende snelheid weder aan het loopen ging. Toen de anderen aan de\nkreek kwamen, sprongen twee van zijne vervolgers er in, maar de derde,\ndie naar het scheen, niet zwemmen kon, bleef eerst aan den oever hen\nstaan nazien, en keerde toen langzaam terug, hetwelk voor hem zeer\ngelukkig was.\nIk bemerkte, dat de twee vervolgers meer dan tweemaal zoolang werk\nhadden met door de kreek te zwemmen als de vlugteling. Op dit oogenblik\nbegreep ik, dat thans het tijdstip gekomen was, om mij een knecht te\nverschaffen, misschien wel een makker en medehelper, en dat de\nVoorzienigheid mij riep om dezen ongelukkige het leven te redden.\nOogenblikkelijk steeg ik de ladders af, en greep mijne beide geweren,\ndie aan den voet derzelve lagen, en even haastig den heuvel weder\nopklimmende, begaf ik mij naar het strand, en stelde mij aldus tusschen\nde vervolgers en den vervolgde, welken laatste ik met eene luide stem\ntoeriep. Deze omziende, was misschien eerst voor mij even bevreesd als\nvoor hen, maar ik wenkte hem met de hand, dat hij zou terugkeeren, en\ntrad middelerwijl langzaam de beide vervolgers te gemoet; den voorste\nvelde ik met een slag met den kolf van mijn geweer neder. Ik wilde\nliefst niet vuren, opdat de anderen het niet zouden hooren; schoon dat\nop dien afstand niet gemakkelijk zou geweest zijn, en daar zij buiten\nhet gezigt van den rook waren, toch niet zouden geweten hebben wat er\nvan te maken. Toen ik dezen nedergeveld had, bleef de ander als\nverschrikt staan, en ik trad naar hem toe, maar naderbij gekomen\nbespeurde ik, dat hij een boog en pijlen had, en op mij wilde aanleggen.\nIk was dus genoodzaakt hem voor te komen, en schoot hem met het eerste\nschot dood. De arme wilde die gevlugt was, doch naderhand blijven staan,\nwas, schoon hij zijne vervolgers zag vallen, door den slag en het vuur\nvan mijn geweer zoo verschrikt, dat hij als versteend staan bleef, en\nmeer geneigd scheen mij te ontvlugten dan te naderen. Ik riep hem weder\ntoe, en wenkte hem naderbij te komen, hetgeen hij gemakkelijk begreep,\nhij deed eenige stappen voorwaarts en bleef toen weder staan; nog eenige\nstappen en toen stond hij weder stil, en ik zag dat hij beefde, en\nbegreep, dat hij thans dacht door mij gevangen genomen en geslagt te\nzullen worden. Ik wenkte hem toe, en gaf hem alle mogelijke blijken van\ngenegenheid. Eindelijk kwam hij, van tijd tot tijd nederknielende,\nnaderbij, knielde voor mij, kuste den grond, en zette mijn voet op zijn\nhoofd. Met dit laatste scheen hij te zweren, dat hij voor altijd mijn\nslaaf was. Ik beurde hem op, en trachtte hem zoo veel mogelijk gerust\nte stellen. Maar ik had nog meer te verrigten, want de wilde dien ik\nnedergeveld had was niet dood, maar alleen bedwelmd door den slag, en\nbegon bij te komen. De wilde, wien ik naar hem wees, zeide mij eenige\nwoorden, die ik niet verstond, maar die mij de aangenaamste geluiden\ntoeschenen, die ik in vijfentwintig jaren gehoord had; want het was de\neerste menschelijke stem, buiten de mijne, die ik in al dien tijd\ngehoord had. Ik had echter thans geen tijd daar aan te denken. De wilde,\ndie bijkwam, zat thans op den grond, en toen ik mijn geweer op hem\naanlegde, verzocht mijn wilde (zoo zal ik hem nu noemen) door teekens\nmij om mijne sabel, die aan mijne zijde hing. Ik gaf hem die, en\nnaauwelijks had hij ze in handen of hij vloog naar zijn vijand en sloeg\nhem met \u00e9\u00e9n slag het hoofd af. Dit verwonderde mij van iemand, die zeker\nnooit geen andere sabel gezien had dan de houten zwaarden, die deze\nvolken gebruiken. Het schijnt echter, gelijk ik naderhand vernam, dat\nzij hunne houten sabels zoo scherp en zoo zwaar maken, en dat het hout\nzoo hard is, dat zij er met een slag een arm of been mede kunnen\nafhouwen. Dit gedaan zijnde kwam hij lagchende, en als in zegepraal naar\nmij toe, en bragt mij mijne sabel terug, en legde die met eene menigte\ngebaren, die ik niet begreep, met het hoofd van den wilde voor mijne\nvoeten.\nWat hem echter het meest verbaasde, was dat ik den anderen op zulk een\nverren afstand gedood had. Hij wees op hem en scheen mij te vragen of\nhij er heen mogt gaan. Ik gaf hem mijne toestemming zoo goed ik kon, te\nkennen. Toen hij bij hem kwam stond hij een oogenblik als versteend van\nverbazing, keerde hem op de eene en de andere zijde, bezag zijne wond\nwaaruit weinig bloed gekomen was, omdat de kogel in de borst zat en de\nwond inwendig gebloed had. Daarop kwam hij met zijn boog en pijlen\nterug, en ik keerde mij om, om heen te gaan, en wenkte hem door teekens\nmij te volgen. Hij gaf mij echter te kennen, dat hij de lijken eerst in\nhet zand wilde begraven, opdat de anderen ze niet zouden vinden, hetgeen\nik toestond. In een oogenblik had hij met zijne handen een gat gegraven,\ngroot genoeg om den eerste te bevatten, dien hij er ook dadelijk\ninsleepte en overdekte, gelijk daarop ook den tweede; ik geloof dat hij\ner geen vierde uurs aan besteedde. Daarop nam ik hem mede, maar bragt\nhem niet in mijn kasteel, maar in mijne grot aan het andere einde van\nhet eiland; zoodat mijn droom, dat hij in mijn kasteel een schuilplaats\nzocht, in dat opzigt niet vervuld werd. Ik gaf hem hier brood, een tros\nrozijnen en wat water, welk laatste hij na zijn loopen hoog noodig had;\nen nadat hij gegeten had, wenkte ik hem te gaan liggen slapen, op een\nplaats waar een hoop stroo en een deken lag, en ik somtijds zelf sliep;\nhet arme schepsel ging liggen en sliep dadelijk.\nHet was een kloeke, welgemaakte knaap, rijzig en gespierd, slank en\nwelgevormd, en naar ik denk ongeveer zesentwintig jaren oud; zijne\ntrekken waren in het geheel niet woest, maar toch mannelijk; hij bezat\nechter al het aanvallige van een Europeesch gelaat, vooral als hij\nglimlachte, zijn haar was lang en zwart, maar niet gekroesd, zijn\nvoorhoofd bijzonder breed en hoog en zijne oogen uiterst kloek en\nlevendig. Zijne kleur was niet volkomen zwart, maar donker bruin,\nevenwel niet zoo vuil bruin als men bij de inboorlingen van Brazili\u00eb,\nVirgini\u00eb en andere Amerikaansche inboorlingen vindt; maar meer\nolijfkleurig en moeijelijk te beschrijven. Zijn gelaat was rond, zijn\nneus klein en niet zoo plat als bij de negers, zijn mond was niet te\ngroot, zijne lippen dun, en zijne tanden fraai en zoo wit als ivoor. Na\neen half uurtje sluimerens werd hij wakker en kwam uit de grot naar mij\ntoe. Ik had juist de geiten gemolken, die ik daar hield, hij vloog naar\nmij toe, en viel ter aarde, met alle mogelijke teekens van dankbaarheid.\nEindelijk legde hij zijn hoofd vlak voor mijne voeten op den grond, en\nplaatste, even als den vorigen keer, mijn voet op zijn hoofd, en maakte\ndaarna alle mogelijke teekens van onderwerping en dienstbaarheid, om mij\nte kennen te geven, dat hij mij dienen wilde zoo lang hij leefde. Ik\nbegreep grootendeels wat hij mij zeggen wilde, en gaf hem wederkeerig te\nkennen, dat ik over hem voldaan was. Weldra beproefde ik hem te leeren\nspreken en mij van hem te doen verstaan. Ik gaf hem vooreerst te kennen,\ndat hij _Vrijdag_ zou heeten, omdat ik hem op Vrijdag het leven gered\nhad. Ik leerde hem daarop _meester_ zeggen, en wees hem dat ik dit was,\nen leerde hem _ja_ en _neen_ zeggen, en wat dit beduidde. Ik gaf hem\nmelk in een aarden schotel, nadat ik er mijn brood in gedoopt had, en\ngaf hem een stuk brood om mij dit na te doen, hetgeen hij spoedig\nbegreep en mij door teekens beduidde, dat hij dit zeer smakelijk vond.\nIk hield hem den geheelen nacht bij mij, en zoodra het dag werd gelastte\nik hem mij te volgen, en deed hem begrijpen, dat ik hem eenige kleederen\nzou geven, want hij was geheel naakt. Toen wij de plaats langs gingen,\nwaar de twee wilden begraven waren, wees hij mij de plek, en de teekens,\nwaaraan hij ze kon herkennen, en gaf mij te kennen, dat hij ze wilde\nuitgraven en opeten. Hierover hield ik mij zeer boos, en gaf hem mijn\nafkeer er van te kennen, door mij te houden, als of ik er van braken\nmoest, en wenkte hem met de hand, dadelijk verder te gaan, hetgeen hij\nzeer gewillig deed. Ik klom daarop met hem den heuvel op, om te zien of\nzijne vijanden vertrokken waren, en mijn kijker uithalende, zag ik\nduidelijk de plaats, waar zij geweest waren, maar van hen, noch hunne\nkanoes niet het minste spoor. Het was dus blijkbaar, dat zij vertrokken\nwaren, en twee hunner makkers achtergelaten hadden, zonder naar hen te\nzoeken.\nDoch ik was hiermede niet tevreden, mijn moed en mijne nieuwsgierigheid\ngroeiden thans te gelijk aan; dus nam ik mijn slaaf Vrijdag mede, gaf\nhem eene sabel in de hand, terwijl hij een boog en pijlen, in welker\nbehandeling ik bevond, dat hij zeer bedreven was, op den rug, en in\nzijne hand een mijner geweren droeg, terwijl ik zelfde beide anderen\nnam, en zoo trokken wij naar de plaats, waar de wilden geweest waren,\nwant ik wilde thans iets meer van hen weten.\nToen wij daar kwamen, verstijfde mij het bloed in de aderen, en mijn\nhart kromp ineen bij het akelig schouwspel, dat zich opdeed. Het was\nwaarlijk een vreesselijk schouwspel, althans voor mij, want Vrijdag trok\nhet zich volstrekt niet aan. De plek was bezaaid met menschenbeenderen,\nde grond met bloed bedekt, hier en daar lagen groote, half gebraden\nstukken vleesch; kortom al de blijken van een zegefeest na eene\noverwinning. Vrijdag gaf mij te kennen, dat zij vier gevangenen hadden\nmedegebragt; drie waren geslagt en de vierde was hij; dat er een groot\ngevecht plaats gehad had tusschen hen en een naburigen koning, tot wiens\nonderdanen hij scheen te behooren, en dat zij een groot aantal\ngevangenen hadden gemaakt, die ieder naar verschillende plaatsen waren\ngevoerd, door degenen, die ze gevangen hadden genomen, om hen te\nslagten, gelijk de wilden, die hier gekomen waren, de hunne hadden\ngedaan.\nIk deed Vrijdag al de overblijfselen van hun gruwelijk feestmaal\nbijeenzamelen, op een hoop leggen, er een groot vuur rondom maken, en\nliet alles tot asch verbranden. Ik bemerkte, dat Vrijdag grooten trek\nnaar het vleesch had, en van aard nog een menscheneter was, maar ik liet\nbij den minsten schijn daarvan zoo veel afschuw blijken, dat hij het\nniet durfde te kennen geven, want ik had hem beduid, dat als hij het\ndurfde doen, ik hem zou doodslaan.\nNadat dit gedaan was keerden wij naar ons kasteel terug, en ik ging voor\nhem aan het werk. Eerst gaf ik hem uit de konstapelskist een linnen\nbroek, die hem vrij wel paste. Daarna maakte ik hem eene buis van\ngeitenvellen, zoo goed ik kon, en ik was nu een dragelijke snijder\ngeworden, en gaf hem eene muts van een hazenvel, die hem zeer deftig\nstond, zoo dat hij voor 's hands vrij goed gekleed was, en niet weinig\nin zijn schik, dat hij schier zoo deftig uitgedost was als zijn meester.\nWel was hij in het eerst zeer linksch in al zijne bewegingen, zijn broek\nbelemmerde hem geweldig, en de mouwen van zijne buis knelden hem, maar\nnadat ik ze hier en daar wat wijder gemaakt had, en hij er aan gewoon\nraakte, kon hij er zeer goed mede te regt komen.\nDen volgenden dag nadat ik met hem te huis was gekomen, begon ik te\nbedenken, waar ik hem zou bergen, zonder dat hij mij tot last was. Ik\nmaakte daarom een kleine tent voor hem, op de ledige plaats tusschen\nmijne beide schansen. Daar er hier een ingang in mijnen kelder was,\nmaakte ik eene hechte deur van planken in den gang digt bij de opening,\ndie van binnen open ging. Des nachts sloot ik die met een boom, en nam\nook mijne ladders in, zoo dat Vrijdag niet binnen mijn binnensten muur\nkon komen, zonder bij het overklimmen zoo veel gerucht te maken, dat ik\ndaarvan wakker moest worden, want mijn binnenste wal was nu geheel met\neen dak voorzien van lange staken, die mijn geheele tent overdekten, en\ntegen den kant van den heuvel steunden, die weder dwars met kleine\nstokken en vervolgens met stroo van rijst bedekt waren, welk laatste zoo\nsterk als riet was. Aan de opening, met welke ik door de ladder in of\nuitging, had ik eene soort van valdeur gemaakt, die niet naar buiten\nopenging, maar als men dit beproefd had, met groot gedruisch naar binnen\nmoest openvallen. Mijne wapens had ik des nachts ook altijd naast mij\nliggen. Al deze voorzorgen waren echter overbodig, niemand had ooit een\ndienaar, die trouwer, opregter en meer aan hem gehecht was dan Vrijdag\naan mij; hij was zonder arglist, en beminde mij als een kind zijn vader,\nen ik durf zeggen, dat hij altijd zijn leven voor het mijne zou gegeven\nhebben. De veelvuldige blijken, die hij hiervan gaf, stelden dit buiten\ntwijfel, en overtuigden mij spoedig, dat ik geene voorzorgen jegens hem\nbehoefde te gebruiken.\nDit deed mij dikwijls overdenken, dat hoezeer het God in zijne wijsheid\nbehaagd heeft, een groot deel zijner schepselen op deze aarde te\nversteken van de beste oefeningen, waartoe hunne geestvermogens vatbaar\nzijn, Hij hun toch dezelfde vermogens geschonken heeft, dezelfde rede,\ndezelfde neigingen; hetzelfde gevoel van dankbaarheid en verpligting,\ndezelfde hartstogten en gevoel van verongelijkingen, hetzelfde besef van\nopregtheid en trouw, en alles wat hun in staat stelt goed te doen, en\nweldaden te ontvangen, zoo wel als ons. Als de gelegenheid zich er toe\naanbiedt, zijn zij even bereid, ja bereidvaardiger dan wij, om deze ten\nbeste aan te wenden. Dit maakte mij somtijds zeer ne\u00earslagtig, als ik\noverwoog, hoe dikwijls wij bij voorkomende gelegenheden, van deze allen\nzulk een slecht gebruik maken, zelfs schoon onze vermogens verlicht zijn\ndoor onderrigt en de kennis van Gods woord; en waarom het God behaagd\nheeft deze zaligmakende kennis te onthouden aan zoo vele millioenen,\ndie, naar dezen armen wilde te oordeelen, er een beter gebruik dan wij\nvan zouden maken. Hierdoor waagde ik mij somwijlen te ver in het\nbeoordeelen van het oppermagtig wereldbestuur, en tot eene beoordeeling,\nals het ware van het regtvaardige eener zoodanige beschikking, die\nsommigen het licht onthouden, en het aan anderen geschonken had, en toch\nvan allen gelijke pligten vorderde. Maar ik bedwong ten laatste mijne\noverwegingen door de bedenking, dat ik niet wist naar welken maatstaf\nzijlieden geoordeeld zouden worden; maar dat, daar God noodwendig en\ndoor de natuur van zijn wezen, oneindig heilig en regtvaardig was, zoo\ndeze schepselen veroordeeld zouden worden, dat zij zich van hem\nverwijderd hadden, dit uit hoofde van hunne zonden tegen dat licht, dat\nhun wet was, en de regels, die hun geweten hun voorschreef, zou zijn; en\nik eindigde met de bedenking, dat daar wij allen als leem in de handen\ndes pottebakkers zijn, geen schepsel tegen zijnen Formeerder zeggen kon:\nwaarom hebt gij mij aldus gevormd?\nMaar om tot mijn nieuwen knecht terug te keeren; ik was zeer met dezen\nin mijn schik, en trachtte hem alles te leeren wat hem nuttig, handig en\nbehulpzaam kon maken; maar vooral hem te leeren met mij te spreken en\nmij te verstaan. Hij was de beste scholier, zoo vrolijk, vlijtig, en\nblijde als hij mij begrijpen kon of zich aan mij doen verstaan, dat het\nmij een genot was met hem om te gaan. Nu was mijne levenswijze zoo\naangenaam, dat, ware ik slechts van de vrees voor de wilden ontslagen\ngeweest, ik gaarne mijn verder leven hier had willen slijten.\nNadat ik twee of drie dagen op mijn kasteel was geweest, begreep ik, dat\nhet goed was, ten einde Vrijdag van zijn afschuwelijk eten van\nmenschenvleesch af te brengen, hem eenig ander vleesch te laten proeven.\nIk nam hem derhalve op een ochtend mede naar het bosch, met oogmerk een\ngeitje uit mijne kudde naar huis te brengen en te slagten, maar onder\nweg zag ik eene geit met twee jongen in de schaduw liggen. Ik greep\nVrijdag bij den arm. \"Sta stil,\" zeide ik, en wees hem, dat hij zou\nblijven staan. Daarop legde ik mijn geweer aan, en schoot een der\ngeitjes. De arme knaap, die mij een zijner vijanden op een afstand had\nzien dooden, zonder te weten of te begrijpen hoe, was zoo verschrikt en\nverbaasd, dat hij van angst trilde en ik dacht dat hij neergevallen zou\nzijn. Hij zag het geitje niet, dat ik gedood had, en had ook niet\nbemerkt dat ik er op aangelegd had, maar hij rukte zijn buis open, om te\nzien of hij ook gewond was, en begreep, dat ik voornemens was hem te\ndooden, want hij viel voor mij neder, omhelsde mijne knie\u00ebn, en zeide\nmij veel dat ik niet verstaan kon, maar gemakkelijk begrijpen, dat hij\nmij smeekte hem niet te dooden.\nSpoedig vond ik middel hem te overtuigen, dat ik hem geen kwaad wilde\ndoen, ik beurde hem lagchend op, wees op de geit die ik geschoten had,\nen gelastte hem die te gaan halen, gelijk hij deed. Terwijl hij zich\nover haren dood verwonderde, laadde ik mijn geweer weder, en zag\ntoevallig een vogel van grootte als een havik, binnen schot op een boom\nzitten. Om nu Vrijdag eenigzins te doen begrijpen wat ik doen wilde,\nwees ik hem den vogel, dat een papegaai was, schoon ik dien eerst voor\neen havik hield, en op mijn geweer en op den grond onder den boom, om\nhem te doen begrijpen, dat ik dien vogel uit den boom zou schieten.\nDaarop schoot ik en de vogel viel. In we\u00earwil van hetgeen ik gezegd had\nwas hij echter weder hevig verschrikt, en vooral omdat hij mij niets in\nhet geweer had zien doen. Hij begreep, dat dit een tooverwerktuig moest\nzijn, dat alles, mensch en beest, van verre en nabij dooden kon. Deze\nindruk bleef hem lang bij, en als ik het toegelaten had, zou hij, geloof\nik, mij en mijn geweer aangebeden hebben. Verscheidene dagen daarna\ndurfde hij het geweer nog niet aanraken, maar sprak er dikwijls tegen,\nals hij alleen was, en smeekte het, gelijk ik naderhand van hem vernam,\nhem niet te dooden.\nZoodra hij van zijne eerste verbazing wat bekomen was, gelastte ik hem\nden vogel te gaan halen, hetgeen hij deed, maar eenigen tijd wegbleef,\nwant ik had hem slechts aangeschoten, en hij was een eind weegs\nweggefladderd. Terwijl hij hem opzocht, maakte ik van deze gelegenheid\ngebruik om mijn geweer weder te laden, daar hij van hetzelve nog niets\nbegreep, zonder dat hij het zag, opdat ik, als hij terug kwam, gereed\nmogt zijn als zich eenig ander wild opdeed, hetgeen echter thans het\ngeval niet was. Ik bragt het geitje naar huis, haalde het nog denzelfden\navond af, en hakte het zoo goed ik kon in stukken. Vervolgens kookte ik\ner een stuk van tot soep, en na er wat van gegeten te hebben, gaf ik er\nVrijdag ook wat van, dien het zeer goed scheen te smaken, doch wat hem\nhet meest verwonderde, was dat hij er mij zout bij zag eten. Hij gaf mij\ndoor teekens te kennen, dat zout niet goed om te eten was; hij stak een\nweinig in den mond, en hield zich alsof hij er van walgde en zou gaan\nbraken, waarna hij met water zijn mond uitwiesch; daarentegen nam ik een\nstuk vleesch zonder zout, en hield mij alsof ik van het gebrek aan zout\nwalgde, maar het baatte niets, nimmer wilde hij zout bij zijne spijs\nvoegen.\nNa hem den eersten dag soep gegeven te hebben, besloot ik hem den\ntweeden dag op gebraad te onthalen, door een stuk geitenvleesch aan het\nspit te steken. Ik deed dit, gelijk ik in Engeland dikwijls gezien had,\ndoor het vleesch in een stuk aan een staak te hangen, die op twee andere\nstaken steunde, en deze te draaijen. Vrijdag stond dit verbaasd aan te\nzien, maar toen hij het vleesch proefde, gaf hij mij op allerlei wijzen\nte verstaan hoe goed het hem smaakte, en eindelijk gaf hij te kennen,\ndat hij nimmer meer menschenvleesch wilde eten, hetwelk mij zeer\naangenaam was.\nDen volgenden dag zette ik hem aan het werk om eenig koorn te dorschen,\ngelijk ik dat gewoon was, en spoedig kon hij dit zoo goed doen als ik,\nvooral nadat hij gezien had waarvoor dit geschiedde, want ik liet hem\nzien hoe ik mijn brood bereidde en bakte, en kort daarna kon Vrijdag dit\nalles voor mij doen zoo goed als ik zelf. Ik begon nu te begrijpen, dat\nik voor twee man eten moest hebben in plaats van voor een, en dus meer\ngraan dan vroeger aankweeken; ik stak dus een grooter stuk land af, en\nbegon dit te omheinen even als het vorige. Vrijdag werkte hieraan zeer\ngewillig en vlijtig mede, en ik vertelde, dat dit was om graan te\nbekomen ten einde meer brood te maken, omdat hij nu bij mij was. Hij\nscheen hierdoor zeer getroffen en beduidde mij, dat ik thans door hem\nmeer werk had dan vroeger voor mij alleen; maar dat ik slechts te zeggen\nhad wat ik gedaan wilde hebben, en dat hij te harder voor mij zou\nwerken.\nDit jaar was voor mij het aangenaamste van allen, die ik hier\ndoorgebragt had, Vrijdag begon tamelijk wel te spreken en kende spoedig\nde namen van al wat ik hem wijzen kon, en van elke plaats, waar ik hem\nnaar toe zenden kon. Ik begon dus thans mijne tong weder te kunnen\ngebruiken, waartoe ik, om te spreken bedoel ik, tot hiertoe weinig\ngelegenheid had gehad. Behalve het genoegen van met hem te spreken, had\nik veel vermaak in zijn karakter; zijne eenvoudige, brave en argelooze\naard bleek mij dagelijks meer, en ik begon hem hartelijk lief te hebben;\nen van zijnen kant geloof ik, dat hij mij meer dan iets ter wereld\nbeminde.\nIk wilde eens beproeven of hij weder naar zijn land verlangde, en daar\nhij nu genoeg Engelsch kende om mij eenige vragen te beantwoorden, vroeg\nik hem of zijn volk nimmer in een gevecht overwinnaar was, waarop hij\nglimlagchend antwoordde: \"Ja wel, wij vechten altijd het best;\" hij\nbedoelde beter dan hunne vijanden. Hierop hielden wij het volgende\ngesprek:\n\"Gij vecht het best,\" zeide ik, \"hoe komt het dan, dat gij gevangen\ngenomen zijt.\"\nVrijdag. Mijn volk verslaat ze toch.\nMeester. Hoe verslaan? Dat begrijp ik niet, als uw volk hen versloeg,\nhoe kwaamt gij dan gevangen?\nVrijdag. Zij waren meer dan mijn volk op de plek waar ik was. Zij nemen\neen, twee, drie en mij gevangen. Mijn volk versloeg hen elders, waar ik\nniet was, daar nam mijn volk een, twee, drie, veel duizend gevangen.\nMeester. Maar waarom heeft uw volk u dan niet uit de handen uwer\nvijanden verlost?\nVrijdag. Zij bragten gaauw een, twee, drie en mij in de kanoe; mijn volk\ndaar geen kanoe had.\nMeester. Zoo. En wat doet uw volk met de lieden, die zij genomen hebben.\nVoeren zij hen weg en eten ze op, gelijk die anderen?\nVrijdag. Ja, mijn volk eet ook menschen, eet ze allen op.\nMeester. Waar brengen zij die heen?\nVrijdag. Zij gaan naar andere plaats, waar zij willen.\nMeester. Komen zij hierheen?\nVrijdag. Ja hierheen, hier en op andere plaatsen.\nMeester. Zijt gij vroeger hier met hen geweest?\nVrijdag. Ja, ik hier geweest ben. (Hierbij wees hij naar den N.W. kant\nvan het eiland, waar het schijnt dat hunne landingplaats was).\nHieruit maakte ik op, dat hij vroeger onder de wilden geweest was, die\ngewoon waren op de verder afliggende gedeelten van het eiland aan wal te\ngaan, met dezelfde oogmerken, waartoe hij thans hier gebragt was, en\ntoen ik hem eenigen tijd daarna aan dien kant bragt, herkende hij\ndadelijk de plaats, en zeide mij, dat hij daar eens geweest was, toen\nzij twintig mannen, twee vrouwen en een kind hadden gegeten. Hij kon in\nhet Engelsch niet tot twintig tellen, maar hij wees het mij door zooveel\nsteentjes naast elkander te leggen en mij die te laten tellen.\nIk heb dit gesprek medegedeeld, omdat er het volgende uit ontstond. Ik\nvroeg hem namelijk hoe ver ons eiland van de kust af lag, en of de\nkanoes op den togt herwaarts niet dikwijls verongelukten. Hij zeide, dat\ner geen gevaar was, en de kanoes nimmer vergingen, maar dat er een eind\nweegs in zee eene strooming en een wind was, naar de eene zijde in den\nmorgen, en in den namiddag naar de andere zijde.\nIk begreep, dat dit niets anders was dan de loop van het getij, naarmate\nhet water wies of afliep, maar naderhand heb ik geleerd, dat dit\nontstond uit de sterke eb en vloed van de groote Oronoko-rivier, in\nwelker mond ik naderhand begreep, dat ons eiland lag, en dat het land\nhetwelk ik ten W. en N.W. gewaar werd, het groote eiland Trinidad, aan\nden noordelijken hoek van gemelde rivier, was. Ik deed Vrijdag duizend\nvragen over het land, de bewoners, de zee, de kust, en welke de naburige\nvolken waren; hij verhaalde mij met de meest mogelijke openhartigheid al\nwat hij wist. Ik vroeg hem de namen der verschillende volken\ndaaromstreeks; maar kon niets anders uit hem krijgen dan Caribs; waaruit\nik begreep, dat het Cara\u00efben waren, die volgens onze kaarten, dat deel\nvan Amerika bewonen, dat zich van de Oronoko tot aan Guiana, en aan de\nandere zijde tot St. Martha uitstrekt. Hij verhaalde mij, dat ver achter\nde maan (waarmede hij bedoelde in die strekking, waar de maan\nonderging), dat is ten westen van hun land, witte, baardige mannen\nwoonden, zoo als ik (hierbij wees hij op mijne knevels) en dat deze veel\nmannen gedood hadden, zoo als hij zeide. Ik besloot hieruit, dat hij de\nSpanjaarden bedoelde, wier wreedheden in Amerika, het geheele land door\nbekend zijn geraakt, en door alle volkeren van vader tot zoon bewaard\nzijn gebleven.\nIk vroeg hem of hij mij zeggen kon, hoe ik van dit eiland en bij die\nblanke menschen komen kon. Hij zeide ja, en dat dit gaan kon in \"twee\nkanoes.\" Ik begreep eerst niet wat hij met \"twee kanoes\" meende, maar\nkwam er eindelijk met veel moeite achter, dat hij wilde zeggen in eene\nkanoe, zoo groot als twee anderen. Deze verklaring beviel mij zeer goed,\nen van dit oogenblik af koesterde ik eenige hoop, dat ik den een of\nanderen tijd gelegenheid zou vinden van deze plaats te ontkomen, en dat\ndeze arme wilde mij ter uitvoering daarvan behulpzaam zou kunnen zijn.\nGedurende al den tijd, dat Vrijdag nu bij mij was geweest, en begon te\nleeren met mij te spreken en mij te verstaan, had ik niet nagelaten hem\nde eerste begrippen der godsdienst in te prenten; zoo vroeg ik hem eens\nwie hem geschapen had. De arme knaap begreep mij volstrekt niet, maar\ndacht, dat ik vroeg wie zijn vader was. Ik vatte dus de zaak anders aan,\nwees hem op de zee, den grond waarop hij trad, de heuvels en de\nbosschen. Hij zeide, dat dit gemaakt was door den ouden Benamoekie, die\nverder dan alle menschen woonde. Hij wist van dien grooten persoon niets\nanders te zeggen, dan dat hij zeer oud was, veel ouder, zeide hij, dan\nde zee of het land, dan de maan of de sterren. Ik vroeg hem daarop, dat\nzoo die oude persoon alle dingen gemaakt had, waarom niet alle dingen\nhem eer bewezen. Hij zag zeer ernstig, en zeide met eene onnoozele\neenvoudigheid: \"Alle dingen zeggen, O! tegen hem.\" Ik vroeg hem of de\nlieden, die in zijn land stierven, ergens heen gingen. \"Ja, ja,\" zeide\nhij, \"zij gaan allen naar Benamoekie.\" Daarop vroeg ik of degeen, die\nzij opaten, daar ook heen gingen, en hij zeide, \"ja.\"\nDit gaf mij aanleiding hem in de kennis van den eenigen waren God te\nonderrigten. Ik zeide hem, terwijl ik naar den hemel wees, dat de groote\nmaker van alle dingen daar woonde, en dat Hij de wereld met dezelfde\nalmagt en wijsheid bestierde, waarmede Hij ze geschapen heeft; dat Hij\nalmagtig was, ons alles doen, alles geven, alles ontnemen kon; en zoo\nopende ik van lieverlede hem de oogen.\nHij luisterde zeer oplettend, en hoorde met veel genoegen hoe Christus\ngezonden was om ons te verlossen, en hoe wij God behoorden te bidden, en\nhoe deze ons altijd hoorde, waar wij ook waren. Hij zeide mij eens, dat\nzoo God ons hooren kon, terwijl Hij verder dan de zon was, dat Hij dan\neen grooter God dan hun Benamoekie was, die niet veraf woonde, en toch\nhen niet hooren kon, ten ware zij den hoogen berg opstegen, waarop hij\nwoonde om tegen hem te spreken. Ik vroeg hem of hij daar ooit gegaan\nwas; hij zeide neen, en dat dit alleen de oude lieden deden, die hij\nOewokakie noemde, dat is, gelijk ik uit zijne verklaring begreep, zoo\nveel als hunne priesters, en dat deze heengingen om \"O!\" te zeggen (zoo\nnoemde hij het bidden), en als zij terugkwamen, verhaalden wat\nBenamoekie gezegd had. Hieruit bemerkte ik, dat er zelfs onder de\ndomste en verblindste Heidenen eene priesterschap en zekere\nverborgenheden bestaan, om het gemeen ontzag voor de priesters in te\nboezemen.\nIk trachtte Vrijdag omtrent deze bedriegerijen in te lichten, en zeide\nhem, dat het voorgeven hunner oude lieden, dat zij den berg opgingen, om\nhunnen God Benamoekie aan te roepen, bedriegerij was, zoo wel als, dat\nzij vandaar komende, verhaalden wat hij hun gezegd had; dat, zoo zij\ndaar iemand ontmoetten, of iemand tot hen sprak, dit dan een booze geest\nmoest zijn. Hierop had ik een lang gesprek met hem over den duivel, zijn\noorsprong, zijn opstand tegen God, zijne vijandschap tegen de menschen,\nhare oorzaak, zijn verblijf in de duistere plaatsen der wereld, om daar,\nin stede van God, en als God aangebeden te worden; en over zijne vele\nlisten, om den mensch in het verderf te storten; hoe hij tot onze ziel\ntoegang kreeg door onze hartstogten strikken te spannen, waardoor wij\nons zelven in verzoeking bragten, en vrijwillig ons eigen verderf te\ngemoet gingen.\nIk vond, dat het niet zoo gemakkelijk ging hem juiste denkbeelden in te\nprenten, aangaande den duivel, als aangaande den aard en het wezen der\nGodheid. De geheele natuur was mij behulpzaam in mijne bewijzen voor het\nnoodwendig bestaan van eene eerste oorzaak, een onbegrijpelijke,\nallesbestierende magt, en voor de verpligting van onzen Schepper onze\nhulde toe te brengen; maar niets van dat alles ondersteunde het\ndenkbeeld van een boozen geest, zijn oorsprong, zijn aard en wezen, en\nbovenal zijne geneigdheid tot het kwade, en zijne verleidingen daartoe.\nMijn arme eenvoudige wilde bragt mij eens door eene zeer natuurlijke en\neenvoudige vraag zoodanig in de engte, dat ik naauwelijks wist wat ik\nhem zeggen zou. Ik had hem veel gezegd van Gods almagt, zijne afkeer van\nzonde, hoe hij een verterend vuur was voor de werkers van\nongeregtigheid; hoe Hij, die ons allen geschapen had, ons en de geheele\nwereld door zijn wil vernietigen kon, en al dien tijd had hij met de\ngrootste aandacht naar mij geluisterd.\nDaarna verhaalde ik hem hoe de duivel, Gods vijand, in de harten der\nmenschen was, en al zijne list besteedde om de goede voornemens der\nVoorzienigheid tegen te werken, en het rijk van Christus hier op aarde\nafbreuk te doen, en dergelijke meer. \"Maar,\" zeide Vrijdag, \"gij zegt,\ndat God zoo groot en zoo magtig is, is hij niet veel magtiger dan de\nduivel?\"--\"Ja, ja, Vrijdag,\" zeide ik, \"God is veel magtiger dan de\nduivel, en daarom bidden wij God, dat hij ons toelaat hem te vertreden,\nen ons zijne verzoekingen doet wederstaan en zijn arglist\nteleurstellen.\"--\"Maar,\" voerde hij weder aan, \"als God zooveel magtiger\nen sterker is dan de duivel, waarom slaat Hij dan den duivel niet dood,\nen belet hem meer kwaad te doen?\"\nIk stond bij deze vraag geheel verplet; schoon een oud man, was ik nog\neen jongeling in de godgeleerdheid, en weinig in staat om leerstellige\nvragen en zwarigheden op te lossen. Eerst wist ik niet wat te\nantwoorden, dus hield ik mij alsof ik hem niet verstaan had, en vroeg\nwat hij zeide. Maar hij verlangde te veel naar een antwoord, om zijne\nvraag vergeten te hebben, dus herhaalde hij die in dezelfde woorden als\nboven. Middelerwijl had ik mijne gedachten een weinig bijeengezameld, en\nzeide: \"God zal hem in het laatste der dagen gestrengelijk straffen; hij\nwordt bespaard tot den dag des oordeels, wanneer hij in een bodemloozen\nafgrond zal worden geworpen, om daar met eeuwig vuur te blijven.\"--Dit\nvoldeed Vrijdag niet. Hij herhaalde mijne woorden: \"tot het laatste der\ndagen; dat begrijp ik niet. Waarom den duivel niet nu, niet lang geleden\nal gedood?\"--\"Gij kondt even goed vragen,\" hernam ik, \"waarom God u en\nmij niet doodt, als wij zonden bedrijven; wij blijven gespaard om berouw\nte hebben en vergiffenis te erlangen.\"--Hij dacht eene poos hierover na,\nen zeide eindelijk: \"Dat goed, zeer goed is; dus gij, ik, de duivel,\nalle zondaars bewaard blijven, allen berouw hebben, allen vergiffenis\nontvangen.\"\nDit antwoord bragt mij geheel in verlegenheid, en het was voor mij een\nnieuw blijk, hoe natuurlijke begrippen, wel een redelijk wezen tot de\nkennis en tot de vereering van een Hoogst Wezen leiden, maar dat alleen\neene goddelijke openbaring ons tot de kennis van Jezus Christus, en van\neene verlossing, voor ons verworven door zijnen dood, en van Hem als\nmiddelaar van een nieuw Verbond; dat niets zeg ik, dan eene goddelijke\nopenbaring ons deze begrippen kon geven, en daarom het Evangelie van\nonzen Heer en Zaligmaker volstrekt noodig is, om den mensch de ware\nkennisse Gods en der middelen tot zijne zaligheid te geven. Ik brak\ndaarom het bovengemelde gesprek haastig af, alsof ik plotseling wilde\nuitgaan, daarop zond ik hem een ver eind weg om iets te verrigten, en\nsmeekte toen God vurig, dat hij mij in staat mogt stellen dezen armen\nwilde te onderrigten, hem door zijnen geest vatbaar maken om het licht\nder kennisse Gods in Christus te ontvangen, en mij van Zijn woord\nzoodanig doen spreken, dat zijn hart overtuigd, zijne oogen geopend en\nzijne ziel gered mogt worden. Toen hij terugkwam had ik een lang gesprek\nmet hem over de verlossing der menschen door den Zaligmaker, en de leer\nder Evangeli\u00ebn, namelijk berouw voor God en geloof in onzen Heiland. Ik\nverklaarde hem toen, zoo goed als ik kon, waarom onze Verlosser niet de\ngedaante der Engelen maar den aard der menschen had aangenomen; dat hij\ngekomen was om de verloren schapen van het huis Isra\u00ebls bijeen te\nzamelen en zoo voorts.\nGod weet het, ik bezat meer welmeenendheid dan kunde, in mijne pogingen\ntot onderrigt van dezen wilde, en ik moet bekennen, hetgeen geloof ik\nallen, die even zoo handelen, zullen ondervinden, dat terwijl ik hem\nleerde, ik mij zelve vele dingen eigen maakte en opmerkte, die ik\nvroeger niet wist of nimmer aan gedacht had, maar mij thans voor den\ngeest kwamen, nu ik ze ter onderrigting voor dezen armen wilde bijeen\nzamelde; en ik onderzocht deze zaken thans met meer lust dan ooit te\nvoren. Het zij dus deze arme wilde mij genoegen of gevaren zou\naanbrengen, altijd had ik groote reden tot dankbaarheid. Mijn verdriet\nwerd thans ligter, mijne woning was mij genoeglijker, en als ik bedacht,\ndat ik in dit eenzaam leven, waartoe ik veroordeeld was, niet alleen\nzelf naar den hemel had leeren opzien, en nadenken door wiens bestier ik\nhier gekomen was, maar thans zelf tot een werktuig verkoren was, om met\nhulp der Voorzienigheid, niet alleen het ligchaam maar ook de ziel van\ndezen armen man te redden, en hem de kennis van den waren God en de\nChristelijke leer in te prenten; ik zeg, wanneer ik dit alles bedacht,\ngevoelde ik mij van eene heimelijke vreugde doordrongen, en verheugde\nmij alsdan, dat ik naar deze plaats gevoerd was, hetgeen ik vroeger\nbeschouwde als de grootste ramp, die mij ooit treffen kon.\nDeze dankbare gemoedsstemming bleef mij van dien tijd af gestadig bij,\nen de gesprekken, die Vrijdag en mij in onze ledige uren, drie jaren\nachtereen bezig hielden, waren zoodanig, dat wij al dien tijd zoo\nvolkomen tevreden en gelukkig waren, als men dit in deze ondermaansche\nwereld wezen kan. De wilde was thans een goed Christen, een beter\nChristen dan ik, schoon ik met grond en met dankbaarheid jegens God,\nzeggen durf, dat wij beide boetvaardige en berouwhebbende zondaren\nwaren. Wij hadden het woord Gods tot ons onderrigt, en zijn geest was\nons even nabij alsof wij in Engeland waren.\nGestadig las ik hem de Heilige Schrift voor, en trachtte hem naar mijn\nbeste vermogen te doen begrijpen, wat ik las; terwijl hij door zijne\nernstige vragen mij, gelijk ik gezegd heb, veel ervarener in\nschriftuurlijke kennis maakte dan ik ooit door het bloote lezen zou\ngeworden zijn. Ik mag ook niet voorbij gaan hier uit ervaring in dit\nmijn eenzaam leven te doen opmerken, welk een oneindig groote zegen het\nis, dat de kennisse Gods en de leer der zaligmaking door Jezus Christus,\nzoo duidelijk in Gods woord bevat is, dat alleen het lezen der Heilige\nSchrift mij genoegzaam mijne pligten deed kennen, om mij dadelijk tot\nopregt berouw te bewegen over mijne zonden, en tot het aankleven van\nonzen Zaligmaker, door wien ik behouden moest worden; als ook tot eene\nduurzame verbetering van mijn gedrag, en gehoorzaamheid aan Gods\ngeboden, en dit zonder eenigen menschelijken leermeester. Even zoo was\ndit eenvoudig onderrigt genoegzaam voor dezen wilde, om hem tot een\nChristen te maken, zoo als ik in mijn leven slechts weinigen gezien heb.\nWat betreft de twisten en geschillen, die er in de wereld over de\ngodsdienst bestaan hebben, hetzij over de leer of over derzelver\nbedienaars, deze waren voor ons even nutteloos, als zij, naar ik zien\nkan, steeds voor de geheele wereld zijn geweest. Wij hadden den zekeren\ngids ten hemel, namelijk Gods woord, en, Gode zij dank, genoegzame\nondersteuning van zijnen geest om ons het te doen verstaan, en geneigd\nen gehoorzaam aan deszelfs onderrigtingen te maken. Ik kan niet inzien\nwat de uitgestrekte kennis in godsdienstige geschillen, die in de wereld\nzooveel onrust verwekt hebben, ons voor nut zou gedaan hebben, al hadden\nwij die kunnen verwerven.\nDoch om tot mijne geschiedenis terug te keeren, en iedere zaak op hare\nbeurt te vermelden. Nadat Vrijdag en ik bevriend waren geworden, en hij\nschier alles verstaan kon wat ik tot hem zeide, en mij vloeijend,\nofschoon in gebroken Engelsch, antwoorden, verhaalde ik hem mijne eigene\ngeschiedenis; althans wat mijne komst alhier aangaat, hoe ik hier huis\ngehouden had en hoe lang. Ik leerde hem het geheim (want dit was het\nvoor hem) van kruid en lood en hoe hij een geweer afschieten moest. Ik\ngaf hem een mes, waarmede hij zeer in zijn schik was, en maakte hem een\ndraagband om het in eene scheede in te dragen; in plaats van eene sabel\ngaf ik hem om daaraan te hangen eene bijl, die als wapen in sommige\ngevallen nuttig kan zijn, maar nog veel nuttiger in vele andere\nomstandigheden.\nIk beschreef hem de landen van Europa, maar in het bijzonder mijn\nvaderland, hoe wij daar leefden, hoe wij God dienden, hoe wij ons in de\nmaatschappij gedroegen, en hoe wij in schepen naar alle deelen der\nwereld gingen. Ik verhaalde hem van het wrak, waar ik aan boord was\ngeweest, en wees hem de plaats zoo nabij als ik kon, want het was lang\nte voren aan stukken geslagen en geheel verdwenen.\nIk toonde hem hetgeen er nog over was van de boot, die bij mijne redding\nop het strand geslagen werd, en welke ik nimmer had kunnen bewegen, maar\ndie thans in stukken was gevallen. Toen Vrijdag deze boot zag stond hij\neene poos in gedachten en zeide niets. Eindelijk echter toen ik vroeg\nwaar hij zoo op peinsde, zeide hij: \"Ik heb eene boot zoo zien komen op\neene plaats van mijn volk.\"\nIk begreep hem eerst niet, maar bij nader onderzoek maakte ik uit hem\nop, dat zulk eene soort van boot op de plaats waar hij woonde, gekomen\nwas, namelijk, gelijk hij mij verklaarde, door slecht weder daar heen\ngeslagen. Ik verbeeldde mij thans, dat de sloep van een Europeesch schip\nop die hoogte, verloren geraakt en op strand geworpen was; ik was echter\nzoo dom, dat ik er met eens aan dacht, dat er wel menschen zich daarmede\nbij eene schipbreuk hadden kunnen redden, en vroeg hem dus alleen hoe de\nboot er uitzag.\nVrijdag beschreef mij die vrij wel, maar ik begreep hem nog beter toen\nhij er met eenige warmte bijvoegde: \"Wij redden die blanke menschen van\nverdrinken!\" Ik vroeg dadelijk of er eenige blanken in de boot waren\ngeweest.--\"Ja de boot vol,\" zeide hij. Ik vroeg, hoeveel? Hij telde op\nzijne vingers tot zeventien. Op mijne vraag wat er van hen geworden was,\nzeide hij: \"Zij leven, zij wonen bij mijn volk.\"\nDit deed weder nieuwe gissingen bij mij ontstaan; ik geloofde thans, dat\ndeze menschen misschien tot het schip behoord hadden, dat naar mijn\neiland heengeslagen was, en dat nadat het schip op de rots gestooten\nhad, en zij een onvermijdelijken dood voor oogen zagen, zij zich in de\nboot gered hadden en op de woeste kust onder de wilden geland waren. Ik\nvroeg vervolgens naauwkeuriger wat er van hen geworden was; hij\nverzekerde mij dat zij daar nog leefden, dat zij er ongeveer vier jaren\ngeweest waren, dat de wilden hen geen leed deden en hun voedsel gaven.\nIk vroeg hem hoe het kwam, dat zij hen niet dood sloegen en opaten. Hij\nzeide: \"neen, zij maken broeders met hen,\" waarmede hij een verbond of\nwapenstilstand, naar het scheen, wilde te kennen geven. \"Zij eten geen\nmannen, als die niet in den oorlog zijn gevangen genomen.\"\nEene geruime poos daarna waren wij op den top van den heuvel aan de\noostzijde des eilands, vanwaar, gelijk ik verhaald heb, ik op een\nhelderen dag weder het vaste land van Amerika gezien had. Vrijdag zag\nmet inspanning eene poos derwaarts, en in eene vlaag van verrukking\nbegon hij te dansen en te springen, en mij te roepen, want ik was een\neind weegs vandaar. Ik vroeg hem wat het was. \"O vreugde, o blijdschap!\"\nriep hij uit. \"D\u00e1\u00e1r mijn land, d\u00e1\u00e1r mijn volk zien!\"\nIk bespeurde, dat het genoegen uit zijne trekken blonk, en zijne oogen\nfonkelden, en uit zijn geheele voorkomen scheen te blijken, dat hij naar\nzijn vaderland verlangde. Dit bragt mij op ernstige gedachten, zoodat ik\nin den beginne niet zoo gerust omtrent hem was als vroeger, en ik\ntwijfelde niet of, als hij weder tot zijn eigen natie kon terugkeeren,\nhij niet alleen al zijne godsdienst zou vergeten, maar ook zijne\nverpligtingen jegens mij, en welligt ondankbaar genoeg zijn om met een\npaar honderd wilden terug te keeren, om mij op te eten, en een feest te\nhouden, zoo als hij gewoon was met zoodanige vijanden, als zij in den\noorlog krijgsgevangen maakten. Maar ik deed den armen eerlijken jongen\ngroot ongelijk, hetgeen mij naderhand genoeg speet; daar echter mijn\nargwaan aangroeide, en eenige weken stand hield, was ik wat omzigtiger\nen niet zoo gemeenzaam en vriendelijk jegens hem, waaraan ik gewis groot\nonregt deed; want de eerlijke brave knaap, had geene andere dan de beste\nvoornemens, en was zoowel een opregt Christen als een dankbare vriend,\ngelijk mij naderhand ten duidelijkste bleek.\nTerwijl mijn argwaan jegens hem stand hield, was ik elken dag bezig hem\nuit te hooren, om te zien of hij ook eenige dier denkbeelden koesterde,\nwaarvan ik hem verdacht hield; maar alles wat hij zeide was zoo opregt\nen zoo onschuldig, dat ik niets vond wat mijne achterdocht voedsel kon\ngeven, en in weerwil mijner ongerustheid werd ik weder jegens hem even\nals vroeger; ook had hij niets van mijnen argwaan bespeurd, zoo dat er\naan geene veinzerij van zijn kant te denken viel.\nToen wij op zekeren dag weder op dienzelfden heuvel waren, maar met\nmistig weder, zoodat wij het vaste land niet zien konden, riep ik hem en\nzeide: \"Vrijdag, zoudt gij niet gaarne in uw land, onder uw eigen volk\nwillen terugzijn?\"--\"Ja,\" zeide hij. \"O hoe blijd zou ik weer bij mijn\nvolk zijn.\"--\"Wat zoudt gij daar doen,\" zeide ik, \"zoudt gij weder een\nwilde worden, gelijk te voren, en menschenvleesch eten?\"--Hij zette een\nernstig gelaat en schudde het hoofd, zeggende: \"Neen, Vrijdag zou hun\nzeggen braaf te leven, hun zeggen God te bidden, hun zeggen brood te\nbakken, vleesch van dieren te eten, melk te drinken, geen\nmenschenvleesch eten.\"--\"Maar,\" hernam ik, \"dan zouden zij u doodslaan.\"\nHij zette weder een ernstig gezigt, en zeide: \"Neen, zij mij niet\ndooden, willen gaarne leeren.\" Hij voegde er verder bij, dat zij veel\nleerden van de mannen met baarden uit de boot. Daarop vroeg ik hem of\nhij naar hen terug wilde keeren. Glimlagchend zeide hij, dat hij zoo ver\nniet zwemmen kon. Ik zeide, dat ik eene kanoe voor hem wilde maken. Hij\nantwoordde wel te willen gaan als ik mede ging. \"Ik!\" zeide ik; \"wel zij\nzouden mij opeten als ik daar kwam.\"--\"Neen, neen,\" zeide hij, \"ik zal\nmaken dat zij u niet eten, maken, dat zij u veel liefhebben.\" Hij zou\nhun zeggen, voegde hij er bij, hoe ik zijne vijanden gedood en hem het\nleven gered had, en zoo zou hij maken dat zij mij liefhadden. Daarop\nverhaalde hij mij zoo goed hij kon, hoe welgezind zij waren jegens die\nzeventien blanken of gebaarde mannen, gelijk hij ze noemde, die daar op\nhet strand schipbreuk hadden geleden.\nIk moet bekennen, dat ik, van dit oogenblik af begon te verlangen om een\novertogt te wagen, en te zien of ik welligt bij die gebaarde mannen\nkomen kon, die ik niet twijfelde, dat Spanjaarden of Portugezen waren.\nIk begreep, dat wij welligt daar, op het vaste land en met gezelschap,\nbeter eenig middel zouden vinden om te ontkomen, dan ik alleen, op een\neiland, en veertig (Eng.) mijlen van den vasten wal en zonder hulp. Na\neenige dagen bragt ik het gesprek met Vrijdag weder hierop, en zeide\nhem, dat ik hem eene boot wilde geven om naar zijn volk terug te keeren,\nen bragt hem daarop naar mijne boot, die aan de andere zijde van het\neiland lag, en na het water er uit geschept te hebben (want ik liet die\naltijd onder water liggen) haalde ik ze uit, wees ze hem en wij gingen\ner beide in.\nIk zag, dat hij er zeer goed mede te regt kon, en ze bijkans zoo snel\nroeide als ik; toen hij er dus in was, zeide ik: \"Wel, Vrijdag, willen\nwij nu naar uwe natie gaan?\" Hij scheen over dit gezegde zeer verslagen,\nnaar het schijnt, omdat hij begreep, dat de boot daartoe te klein was.\n\"Ik heb nog een grooter,\" zeide ik, en dus bragt ik hem den volgenden\ndag naar de boot, die ik het eerst gemaakt had, maar welke ik niet te\nwater had kunnen brengen. Hij zeide, dat deze groot genoeg was, maar\ndaar ik er geen zorg voor gedragen had, en zij daar drie\u00ebntwintig jaren\ngelegen had, was zij door de zon vaneen gespleten, uitgedroogd en half\nvermolmd. Vrijdag zeide, dat zulk eene boot goed was, en genoeg eten en\ndrinken kon meenemen, zoo als hij zich uitdrukte.\nMijn voornemen om met hem naar het vaste land over te steken, had thans\nzoo diep wortel bij mij geschoten, dat ik hem zeide, dat wij er eene\nzouden maken, die even groot was, en dat hij daarmede vertrekken kon.\nHij antwoordde niet, maar zag er zeer bedrukt uit. Ik vroeg wat hem\ndeerde. Hij antwoordde met de vraag waarom ik boos op Vrijdag was? Wat\nhij mij gedaan had? Ik vroeg wat hij hiermede bedoelde, en zeide, dat ik\nin het geheel niet boos op hem was. \"Niet boos! niet boos!\" herhaalde\nhij verscheidene malen, \"waarom wilt gij dan Vrijdag naar zijn volk\nterugzenden?\"--\"Wel,\" zeide ik, \"hebt gij niet gezegd, dat gij wenschte\ndaar te zijn, Vrijdag?\"--\"Ja, ja,\" zeide hij, \"ik wenschte, dat wij\nbeiden daar waren, Vrijdag daar niet, als meester daar niet\nis.\"--Kortom, hij wilde er niet aan denken daarheen te gaan zonder mij.\n\"Zou ik daarheen gaan, Vrijdag?\" hernam ik, \"wat zou ik daar doen?\"\nDriftig keerde hij zich naar mij toe, en zeide: \"Gij daar zeer veel goed\ndoen, gij leeren de wilden goede, brave menschen zijn, gij hun leeren\nGod kennen, God bidden en een nieuw leven leiden.\"--\"Helaas, gij weet\nniet wat gij zegt, Vrijdag,\" hernam ik, \"ik ben zelf een onwetend\nmensch.\"--\"Ja, ja,\" vervolgde hij, \"gij mij goed leeren, gij hun ook\ngoed leeren.\"--\"Neen,\" zeide ik, \"gij zult zonder mij gaan Vrijdag, en\nmij hier alleen laten leven, gelijk vroeger.\" Hij zag er zeer verslagen\nuit, en daarop spoedig eene bijl halende, die hij gewoonlijk bij zich\ndroeg, gaf hij mij die in de hand. \"Wat moet ik daarmede doen?\" vroeg\nik. \"Gij Vrijdag doodslaan,\" zeide hij. \"Waarom zou ik u doodslaan?\"\nvroeg ik weder. Hij antwoordde driftig: \"Waarom gij Vrijdag wegzenden?\nVrijdag doodslaan, Vrijdag niet wegzenden.\" Dit sprak hij zoo ernstig,\ndat ik een traan in zijne oogen zag. Kortom, ik ontdekte zoo duidelijk\nin hem de uiterste genegenheid jegens mij en zijn vast besluit, dat ik\nhem toen zeide, en naderhand dikwijls herhaalde, dat ik hem nimmer zou\nwegzenden als hij bij mij wilde blijven.\nDaar ik over het geheel in al zijne woorden zulk eene gehechtheid aan\nmij vond, en dat niets hem mij zou doen verlaten, begreep ik, dat de\ngrondoorzaak van zijn verlangen om zijn vaderland terug te zien, uit de\nvurige liefde voor zijn volk en de hoop het wel te doen ontsproot; eene\nzaak tot welke ik niet den minsten lust of verlangen gevoelde. Mijne\ngrootste zucht om derwaarts te vertrekken ontstond uit het berigt dat ik\nvan hem vernomen had, dat namelijk zich daar zeventien blanken bevonden.\nZonder verder dralen ging ik derhalve met Vrijdag aan het werk om een\ngrooten boom te vinden, die geschikt was voor eene groote praauw of\nkanoe om de reis te ondernemen. Er was hout genoeg op het eiland om eene\ngeheele vloot te bouwen, niet alleen van praauwen of kanoes, maar van\ngroote schepen zelfs. De hoofdzaak echter waarnaar ik verlangde, was er\neen te vinden, die zoo digt bij het water stond, dat wij die, als zij af\nwas, te water konden brengen, ten einde niet weder in denzelfden misslag\nals vroeger te vervallen.\nEindelijk wees Vrijdag mij een boom, want ik vond, dat hij veel beter\nwist dan ik welke soort van hout de geschiktste was. Ik weet nog niet\ntot welke soort de boom behoorde, die wij velden, behalve dat hij veel\nnaar verwhout geleek. Vrijdag was er voor den stam met vuur uit te\nhollen, maar ik zeide hem dit liever met werktuigen te doen, en nadat ik\nhem het gebruik daarvan gewezen had, kon hij er spoedig goed mede te\nregt. Na eene maand harden arbeid, hadden wij hem af, en zeer goed\ngevormd, vooral toen wij met onze bijlen, die ik hem had leeren\nbehandelen, er de goede gedaante van eene sloep aan hadden gegeven.\nVervolgens kostte het ons nog wel veertien dagen tijds om haar als het\nware duim voor duim, op groote rollen naar het water te brengen; maar\ntoen zij er in was, had zij zeer goed twintig man kunnen dragen.\nToen de sloep te water was, zag ik met genoegen hoe vlug en behendig\nVrijdag haar, in we\u00earwil van hare grootte, kon behandelen, doen\nvoortgaan en wenden. Ik vroeg hem dus of hij er thans mede zou willen\nen durven oversteken? \"Ja,\" zeide hij, \"ik er zeer goed mede overkomen,\nal waait het ook harden wind!\" Maar ik had een ander voornemen, waarvan\nhij niets wist, en dat was om een mast en zeil te maken, en haar van een\nanker en ankertouw te voorzien. Een mast was gemakkelijk te vinden, ik\nkoos hiertoe een jongen, regten cederboom, dien ik daar digt bij vond,\nen waarvan er op het eiland eene menigte waren, en ik liet Vrijdag dien\nvellen, en wees hem hoe hij dien afkappen en in orde brengen moest. Met\nhet zeil hield ik mij zelf onledig. Ik wist, dat ik oude zeilen of\nliever stukken van oude zeilen genoeg had, maar daar ik die nu\nzesentwintig jaren lang gehad en niet zeer zorgvuldig bewaard had, omdat\nik mij niet verbeeld had ze ooit op die wijze te kunnen gebruiken,\ntwijfelde ik niet of zij zouden allen verrot zijn, hetgeen ook met de\nmeesten het geval was. Ik vond echter twee stukken, die nog vrij gaaf\nwaren, en met deze ging ik aan het werk, en na vrij wat moeite, en\nnaaijen, dat, gelijk men denken kan, bij gebrek aan naalden uiterst\nlinks en vervelend van de hand ging, maakte ik eindelijk een leelijk\ndriehoekig zeil, met een gaffel en een giek, gelijk onze sloepen\ngewoonlijk voeren, en waarmede ik het best wist om te gaan, omdat ik\nzulk een gebruikt had in de boot, waarmede ik uit Barbarije vlugtte,\ngelijk ik hiervoor verhaald heb.\nIk bragt bijkans twee maanden zoek aan het in orde brengen van mijn mast\nen zeilen; want ik maakte ook nog een kleine vlieger en een fok er bij,\nom te helpen als wij door den wind moesten gaan, en ik maakte er van\nachteren een roer aan om te sturen; en schoon dit er vrij onbehouwen\nuitzag, kende ik echter het nuttige en noodzakelijke er te goed van, om\nmij niet zoo veel moeite te geven, dat het eindelijk tot stand kwam,\nschoon, als ik bedenk hoe dikwijls mijne proefnemingen hiertoe\nmislukten, ik geloof, dat het mij schier even veel moeite kostte als de\nboot zelve.\nNadat dit gedaan was moest ik Vrijdag leeren hoe met de boot te zeilen,\nwant schoon hij zeer goed eene kanoe wist te roeijen, begreep hij van\nzeil en roer niets en stond niet weinig verbaasd toen hij mij mijne boot\nbij den wind zag brengen, en weder afvallen, door behulp van mijn roer,\nen hoe het zeil over dezen of dien boeg vol stond, naarmate ik van koers\nveranderde. Toen hij, zeg ik, dit zag, stond hij van verbazing verstomd,\nweldra echter geraakte hij door eenige oefening er gemeenzaam mede, en\nhij werd een vlug matroos, behalve ten aanzien van het kompas, dat ik\nhem nimmer goed kon doen begrijpen; aan den anderen kant, daar het zeer\nzelden bewolkte lucht en bijkans nimmer nevelachtig in deze streken was,\nwas er weinig behoefte aan een kompas, daar bij nacht altijd de sterren,\nen over dag het strand zigtbaar was, behalve in het regensaizoen, en dan\nverlangde niemand buiten's huis te zijn, noch te land noch ter zee.\nIk was nu het zevenentwintigste jaar mijner gevangenschap op deze plaats\ningetreden, schoon de drie laatste jaren van mijn verblijf eigenlijk met\nde vorige niet kunnen vergeleken worden, daar het in dien tijd geheel\nanders was geworden dan vroeger. Ik vierde dit jaarfeest van mijne komst\nalhier met dezelfde dankbaarheid jegens God, voor zijne goedheid, als\nhet eerste; en had ik toen reeds zoo veel stof tot dankbaarheid, nu was\ndit nog veel meer het geval, daar ik zoo veel meer blijken van Gods\nvaderlijke zorg voor mij had ontvangen, en de hoop op eene spoedige\nbevrijding koesterde, want ik hield mij vast overtuigd, dat mijne\nbevrijding spoedig op handen was, en ik geen volgende verjaring mijner\nkomst aldaar zou vieren. Ik bleef echter even zoo voor mijne huishouding\nzorgen als te voren; ik spitte en plantte en omheinde, droogde mijne\ndruiven, en deed al wat noodig was, als te voren.\nMiddelerwijl viel het regensaizoen in, waarin ik meer binnen 's huis\nbleef dan anders; dus had ik onze boot zoo goed mogelijk geborgen, door\nhaar in de kreek te brengen, waar ik, gelijk ik gezegd heb, in den\nbeginne mijne vlotten van het schip aan land bragt. Nadat ik haar bij\nhoog water op den wal gehaald had, deed ik Vrijdag een klein dok graven,\ndat juist groot en diep genoeg was om de sloep te bevatten, en toen het\nwater afliep, sloten wij het met een stevigen dam af om er het water uit\nte houden; dus lag zij droog, en om den regen af te keeren, maakten wij\ner met zware takken eene soort van stevig afdak over heen; en aldus\nwachtten wij de maanden November en December af, waarin ik besloten had\nhet avontuur te ondernemen.\nToen het weder gestadig werd, en de gedachte aan mijn voornemen, met de\nschoone dagen tegelijk terug kwam, maakte ik dagelijks toebereidselen\ntot onze reis. Het eerste wat ik deed, was een aantal levensmiddelen,\nvoor de reis bestemd, bijeen te brengen; met oogmerk, om een of twee\nweken later het dok te openen en onze boot te water te brengen. Op een\nmorgen was ik aan iets hiertoe bezig, toen ik Vrijdag riep en hem\ngelastte naar het strand te gaan, om te zien of hij een schildpad vinden\nkon, iets waarnaar wij gewoonlijk alle weken eens zochten, zoowel om de\neijeren als om het vleesch. Vrijdag was nog niet lang weg geweest, toen\nhij terug kwam loopen, over mijn buitensten wal vloog als iemand, die\nden grond onder zijne voeten niet voelt, en voor ik den tijd had hem toe\nte spreken, riep hij: \"O meester, meester! o verdriet! o kwaad!\"--\"Wat\nis het, Vrijdag?\" zeide ik.--\"O, ginder,\" zeide hij, \"ginder een, twee,\ndrie kanoes, een, twee, drie kanoes!\" Uit zijne wijs van zich uit te\ndrukken maakte ik op, dat er zes waren; maar bij verdere navraag hoorde\nik, dat er slechts drie waren. \"Nu goed, Vrijdag, wees niet bang,\"\nzeide ik, en zoo trachtte ik hem een riem onder het hart te steken. Ik\nzag echter, dat de arme knaap doodelijk beangst was, want hij had zich\nin het hoofd gezet, dat zij alleen gekomen waren om hem te zoeken, en\ndat zij hem in stukken zouden houwen. Hij beefde zoo, dat ik niet wist\nwat ik met hem zou beginnen. Ik stelde hem gerust zooveel ik kon, en\nzeide, dat ik even veel gevaar liep als hij, en dat zij mij zoowel als\nhem zouden opeten. \"Maar,\" zeide ik, \"Vrijdag, wij moeten besluiten, met\nhen te vechten. Kunt gij vechten, Vrijdag?\"--\"Ik kan schieten,\" zeide\nhij, \"maar er zijn er zooveel.\"--\"Wees daar niet bang voor,\" hernam ik,\n\"die wij niet doodschieten zullen door ons vuur bevreesd geworden zijn.\"\nIk vroeg hem daarop, als ik besloot hem te verdedigen, of hij mij zou\nbijstaan en stipt doen wat ik hem gelastte. Hij zeide: \"Ik sterven zal\nals gij mij gelast te sterven, meester.\" Ik ging daarop heen en nam een\ngoeden slok rum en gaf hem ook een borrel; want ik had met mijn rum zoo\nzuinig huis gehouden, dat er nog vrij wat over was. Daarop liet ik hem\nde twee jagtgeweren, die wij altoos bij ons hadden, geven, en laadde die\nmet groven ganzenhagel, die bijkans zoo zwaar was als pistoolkogels;\ndaarop nam ik vier geweren, en laadde die ieder met twee patronen en\nvijf kogels, en op mijne twee pistolen deed ik ook twee kogels op ieder.\nVolgens gewoonte hing ik mijne groote sabel op zijde en gaf Vrijdag\nzijne bijl.\nNa ons aldus uitgerust te hebben, nam ik mijn kijker en klom den heuvel\nop, om te zien wat ik ontdekken kon. Weldra bemerkte ik, dat er\neenentwintig wilden waren, drie gevangenen en drie kanoes; en dat hunne\ngeheele bezigheid scheen te zijn om van deze drie mannen een gastmaal te\nhouden--een barbaarsch feest waarlijk, maar dat bij hen niets ongewoons\nwas.\nIk bemerkte ook, dat zij niet geland waren op de plek waar Vrijdag\nontsnapt was, maar digter bij mijne kreek, waar het strand laag was, en\neen digt bosch zich tot vlak bij de zee uitstrekte. Deze omstandigheid\nen de afschuw van het onmenschelijk oogmerk dezer barbaren, maakten\nmijne verontwaardiging zoo gaande, dat ik naar Vrijdag terugkeerde en\nhem zeide, dat ik besloten had op hen af te gaan, en hen allen dood te\nschieten, en hem vroeg of hij mij wilde bijstaan. Zijn angst was thans\nbedaard, en zijn moed door den sterken drank wat opgewekt, zoodat hij\nzeer wel gemoed was, en mij zeide, even als vroeger, dat hij wilde\nsterven als ik hem gelastte te sterven.\nIn deze eerste vlaag van woede deelde ik de wapens, die ik geladen had\nzoo als ik verhaald heb, tusschen ons; ik gaf Vrijdag eene pistool om in\nzijn gordel te steken en drie geweren op zijne schouders; ik nam zelf\neene pistool en ook drie geweren, en aldus trokken wij op weg. Ik stak\neen fleschje rum bij mij, en gaf Vrijdag een zak met kruid en lood te\ndragen. Ik gelastte hem digt achter mij te blijven, en niet vooruit te\ngaan, noch te schieten noch iets te doen buiten mijn orders, en tevens\ngeen enkel woord te spreken. Aldus uitgerust, maakte ik een omweg van\nbijkans eene (Eng.) mijl, zoo wel om de kreek over te trekken als om in\nhet bosch te komen; opdat ik hen binnen bereik van mijn schot mogt\nbekomen, zonder dat zij mij ontdekten, hetgeen naar ik met mijn kijker\ngezien had, gemakkelijk te doen was.\nTerwijl ik op weg was, kwamen mijne vroegere bezwaren bij mij op en mijn\nbesluit begon te wankelen. Ik wil niet zeggen, dat ik eenige vrees voor\nhun aantal voedde; want daar zij naakt en ongewapend waren, was ik gewis\nde overhand te hebben, al ware ik geheel alleen geweest. Maar ik bedacht\nwelke roeping, welke reden ik had, laat staan welke noodzakelijkheid er\nbestond, dat ik mijne handen in bloed zou doopen, en heden aantasten,\ndie mij nimmer eenig leed hadden gedaan, en hiertoe ook geen voornemen\nhadden; die ten mijnen aanzien schuldeloos waren, en wier barbaarsche\nzeden hun eigen ongeluk waren, daar dit een teeken was, dat God hen met\nandere volken van dit werelddeel aan diepe onwetendheid ten prooi had\ngelaten. Maar dit gaf mij geen regt om over hunne daden het vonnis uit\nte spreken, veel minder mij tot uitvoerder der goddelijke geregtigheid\nop te werpen; want zoo God het goedvond zou Hij zelf hen straffen, en\ndoor rampen over hun geheele volk te brengen, de zonden des volks\nbestraffen; maar dit was geenszins eene taak, die mij toekwam. Wel is\nwaar, in Vrijdag kon dit verschoonbaar zijn, omdat hij hun verklaarde\nvijand en als het ware in staat van oorlog met deze natie was; maar zoo\nhet hem vrijstond hen aan te vallen, was dit niet bij mij het geval.\nDeze gedachten kwamen mij zoo levendig voor den geest, terwijl ik op weg\nnaar hen toe was, dat ik besloot in hunne nabijheid post te vatten, en\ndan te handelen zoo als God mij zou aanwijzen; maar zoo ik geen\nduidelijker roeping dan thans ontving, mij niet met hen in te laten.\nMet dit besluit trad ik het bosch in, en trok met de meeste stilte en\nomzigtigheid, terwijl Vrijdag mij digt op de hielen volgde, tot aan den\nzoom van het bosch, aan den kant, die het digtst bij hen was, behalve,\ndat een uithoek van het bosch mij van hen afscheidde. Hier gekomen riep\nik Vrijdag zachtjes bij mij, en hem een grooten boom, die juist aan den\nhoek stond, wijzende, gelastte ik hem daarin te klimmen, en mij tijding\nte brengen als hij duidelijk zien kon wat zij verrigtten. Dit deed hij\nen kwam onmiddellijk terug, zeggende, dat men ze vandaar duidelijk zien\nkon; dat zij allen om het vuur zaten, het vleesch van een hunner\ngevangenen etende, terwijl een ander, niet ver van hen af, gebonden op\nhet zand lag, die zij volgens zijn zeggen, daarna zouden doodslaan;\nhetgeen mij buiten mij zelven van drift maakte. Hij zeide mij, dat het\nniet een van zijne natie was, maar een dier witte gebaarde mannen, die\nbij zijn volk in de boot waren gekomen. Dit berigt, dat het een blanke\nwas, deed mijn afschuw ten top stijgen, en naar den boom gaande zag ik\ndoor mijn kijker duidelijk den blanke, die op het strand lag, aan handen\nen voeten gekneveld met eene soort van biezen, en dat hij een Europe\u00ebr\nwas, en kleederen aanhad.\nEr was nog een andere boom met eenig struikgewas er om heen, ongeveer\nvijftig schreden digter bij hen dan de plek waar ik stond, en door een\nkleinen omweg te maken kon ik zonder gezien te worden, daar komen, en\ndan was ik op een half geweerschot afstands van hen. Ik bedwong mijne\ndrift derhalve, ofschoon die ten hoogsten top gestegen was, en ongeveer\ntwintig schreden teruggaande, begaf ik mij achter eenig kreupelhout, dat\nzich uitstrekte tot aan den anderen boom, en toen kwam ik aan eene\nkleine hoogte, die mij op ongeveer tachtig schreden afstands, een\nduidelijk gezigt van hen opleverde.\nIk had geen tijd te verliezen, want negentien dier rampzaligen zaten op\nden grond allen digt bij elkander, en hadden juist de twee anderen\nafgezonden om den armen Christen te slagten, en hem misschien aan\nstukken gehouwen, naar hun vuur te brengen, en zij bukten om de banden\naan zijne voeten los te maken. Ik keerde mij tot Vrijdag. \"Doe nu zoo\nals ik gelast heb,\" zeide ik. Hij antwoordde van ja, en ik herhaalde:\n\"Vrijdag, doe juist wat gij mij ziet doen, en geef wel acht.\" Ik zette\neen der musketten en het jagtgeweer op den grond, en Vrijdag deed\nhetzelfde. Met het andere geweer legde ik op de wilden aan, waarin hij\nmij navolgde. Ik vroeg daarop of hij gereed was. \"Ja,\" was zijn\nantwoord. \"Geef dan vuur,\" zeide ik, en op hetzelfde oogenblik brandde\nik ook los.\nVrijdag had veel beter gemikt dan ik, aan den kant waar bij heenschoot\nhad hij twee man gedood en drie gekwetst, en ik had aan mijne zijde een\ngedood en twee gekwetst. De wilden geraakten in vreesselijke\nopschudding, gelijk men wel denken kan; allen, die niet gekwetst waren,\nsprongen dadelijk op de been, maar zij wisten niet waarheen zij vlugten\nnoch waarheen zij uitzien moesten; want zij zagen niet vanwaar het\nverderf hen naderde. Vrijdag hield mij gestadig in het oog, ten einde,\ngelijk ik hem gelast had, te zien wat ik deed; onmiddellijk na het\neerste schot liet ik dus het geweer vallen en nam het jagtgeweer op, en\nVrijdag deed hetzelfde; hij zag mij den haan overhalen en deed evenzoo.\n\"Zijt gij gereed, Vrijdag?\" vroeg ik. \"Ja,\" hernam hij. \"Vuur dan, in\nGods naam,\" zeide ik, en ik brandde weder los op de verbijsterde wilden,\nen Vrijdag deed evenzoo, en daar onze geweren nu met groven ganzenhagel\nof kleine pistoolkogels geladen waren, zagen wij slechts twee vallen,\nmaar eene groote menigte waren gewond, die als razenden heen en weder\nliepen, gillende en schreeuwende, terwijl spoedig daarna er nog drie of\nvier, die zwaar gekwetst waren, nederstortten.\n\"Volg mij nu, Vrijdag,\" zeide ik, het afgeschoten geweer nederleggende,\nen het nog geladen musket opnemende. Hij deed het moedig, en ik kwam\nhet bosch uit en vertoonde mij, met Vrijdag vlak achter mij. Zoodra ik\nbemerkte, dat zij mij zagen schreeuwde ik zoo luid als ik kon, en\ngelastte Vrijdag dit ook te doen; en zoo hard als ik loopen kon, hetgeen\nin het voorbijgaan gezegd, door de wapens waarmede ik beladen was, niet\nzeer snel ging, begaf ik mij regt naar den armen mensch toe, die gelijk\nik zeide, op het strand lag, tusschen de plaats waar zij zaten en de\nzee. De twee wilden, die hem juist hadden willen slagten, hadden de\nvlugt genomen in den schrik voor ons eerste vuur, en waren in eene kanoe\ngesprongen, en nog drie begaven zich ook daarheen. Ik keerde mij naar\nVrijdag, gelastte hem verder te gaan en op hen vuur te geven. Hij\nbegreep mij dadelijk, en ongeveer veertig schreden vooruitgaande, om te\ndigter bij hen te zijn, gaf hij vuur op hen, en ik meende, dat hij hen\nallen gedood had; want ik zag ze allen over elkander in de boot\ntuimelen, doch twee hunner stonden spoedig weder op. Hij had echter twee\ner van gedood en den derde gekwetst, zoodat deze als dood op den bodem\nvan de kanoe lag.\nTerwijl Vrijdag op hen vuurde haalde ik mijn mes uit, en sneed de banden\ndoor, waarmede de arme mensch gebonden was; hielp hem op de been en\nvroeg hem in het Portugeesch wie hij was. Hij antwoordde mij in het\nLatijn een Christen; maar was zoo zwak en flaauw, dat hij naauwelijks\nstaan of spreken kon. Ik haalde mijne flesch uit den zak en wenkte hem,\ndat hij drinken zou, hetgeen hij deed; en ik gaf hem een stuk brood,\nhetgeen hij opat. Toen vroeg ik hem wat landsman hij was, en hij zeide\neen Spanjaard, en zich een weinig hersteld hebbende, gaf hij mij door\nalle mogelijke teekens te kennen hoezeer hij mij dankbaar was voor zijne\nbevrijding. \"Sennor,\" zeide ik, in zoo goed Spaansch als ik bijeen kon\nbrengen, \"daar zullen wij later over spreken, maar nu moeten wij\nvechten, als uwe krachten het toelaten, neem dus deze pistool en die\nsabel, en weer u daarmede.\" Hij nam ze met dankzegging aan, en\nnaauwelijks had hij de wapens in de hand, of hij scheen nieuwe kracht te\nkrijgen, vloog als woedend op zijne moordenaars aan, en had twee hunner\nin een oogenblik neergeveld; want om de waarheid te zeggen, de arme\nschepsels, wien dit alles zoo onverwachts overkwam, waren zoo verschrikt\nvan de losbranding onzer geweren, dat zij van verbazing en angst\nnederstortten, en even weinig in staat waren op de vlugt te denken, als\nom onze kogels af te weren, en zoo ging het ook met de vijf, die in de\nboot waren, want toen Vrijdag schoot en er drie die getroffen waren,\nnedervielen, stortten de andere twee van blooten schrik neder.\nIk hield mijn geweer nog in de hand, maar zonder vuur te geven, omdat ik\nmijn schot bewaren wilde, daar ik den Spanjaard mijne pistool en sabel\nhad gegeven; ik riep Vrijdag dus, en zond hem terug naar den boom\nvanwaar wij het eerst gevuurd hadden, om de ongeladen geweren te halen,\ndie wij daar hadden laten liggen, hetgeen hij met groote vlugheid deed;\nen na hem mijn geweer gegeven te hebben, ging ik zitten om de anderen\nweder te laden; en gelastte hem naar mij toe te komen als hij ze noodig\nhad. Terwijl ik ze laadde geraakte de Spanjaard in een fel gevecht met\neen der wilden, die hem met een dier houten zwaarden aanviel, hetzelfde\nwapen, waarmede hij zou geslagt zijn geworden, als ik het niet belet\nhad. De Spanjaard, die ofschoon zwak, zoo moedig was als een leeuw, had\ndezen Indiaan eene geruime poos bevochten en hem twee wonden aan het\nhoofd toegebragt; maar de wilde, een kloeke sterke kerel zijnde, had den\nafgematten man nedergeworpen en trachtte hem mijne sabel uit de hand te\nwringen, toen de Spanjaard, hoewel onderliggende, wijsselijk de sabel\nlosliet, mijne pistool uit zijn gordel trok en den Indiaan door het\nligchaam schoot, zoodat hij op de plek dood bleef, alvorens ik, die hem\nte hulp kwam, bij hem was gekomen.\nVrijdag, die nu naar eigen willekeur handelen kon, vervolgde de\nvlugtende wilden met geen ander wapen dan zijne bijl, en hiermede maakte\nhij de drie af, die gelijk ik gezegd heb, bij het eerste schot gevallen\nwaren, en al die hij verder bereiken kon. Den Spanjaard, die mij om een\ngeweer vroeg, gaf ik een der jagtgeweren, waarmede hij twee wilden\nvervolgde, en ze beide kwetste; maar daar hij bezwaarlijk loopen kon,\nontsnapten zij hem beide in het bosch, waar Vrijdag ze vervolgde, en er\neen van doodde; maar de andere was hem te vlug af; en ofschoon gewond,\nsprong hij echter in zee, en zwom uit al zijne magt naar de twee, die\nnog in de kanoe waren, welke drie personen, waaronder een gekwetste, die\nwij niet wisten of hij leven kon of niet, alles was wat ons van de\neenentwintig ontsnapte. Zie hier den uitslag van het gevecht.\n   3 Gedood bij ons eerste vuur van den boom.\n   2 Gedood bij het volgende schot.\n   2 Door Vrijdag in de kanoe gedood.\n   2 Gekwetsten, door Vrijdag afgemaakt.\n   1 Door hem in het bosch gedood.\n   3 Door den Spanjaard gedood.\n   4 Dooden, hier en daar gevonden, aan hunne wonden gestorven\n     of door Vrijdag afgemaakt.\n   4 Ontsnapt in de boot, waaronder een gewond of dood.\n  21 in het geheel.\nDie in de kanoe waren roeiden zoo hard zij konden om buiten ons schot te\nkomen, en hoewel Vrijdag twee of drie schoten op hen deed, kon ik niet\nbespeuren, dat hij een hunner getroffen had. Vrijdag had wel gewild, dat\nik een hunner kanoes genomen en hen vervolgd had; hunne ontvlugting\nbaarde mij ook veel zorg, uit vrees, dat zij, na hunnen landslieden deze\ntijding gebragt te hebben, misschien met twee of driehonderd kanoes\nterug mogten keeren, en ons door hun aantal overweldigen. Ik gaf dus\nmijn toestemming hen op zee te vervolgen, sprong in een der kanoes en\ngelastte Vrijdag mij te volgen; maar in de kanoe gekomen stond ik niet\nweinig verwonderd daar nog een levend wezen in te vinden, even als de\nSpanjaard aan handen en voeten gebonden om geslagt te worden, en schier\ndood van schrik, niet wetende wat er gebeurde, daar hij niet over de\nzijde der kanoe heen had kunnen zien; hij was zoo stijf gebonden, en zoo\nlang gekneveld geweest, dat er schier geen leven meer in hem was.\nOogenblikkelijk sneed ik de gestrengelde biezen los, waarmede zij hem\ngebonden hadden; en wilde hem ophelpen; maar hij kon niet staan of\nspreken; maar kermde jammerlijk, meenende naar het schijnt, dat hij\nalleen losgemaakt werd om geslagt te worden.\nToen Vrijdag er bij kwam, gelastte ik dezen hem zijne bevrijding bekend\nte maken, en mijne flesch uithalende, gaf ik den armen drommel een slok,\nhetwelk, met de tijding van zijne bevrijding, hem weder bij bragt, en\nhij ging in de kanoe zitten; maar toen Vrijdag hem hoorde spreken en hem\nin het gelaat zag, zou het iedereen tot tranen bewogen hebben, die\ngezien had hoe Vrijdag hem kuste, omhelsde en troetelde, hoe hij\nschreeuwde, lachte, juichte, sprong, danste, zong, dan weder schreeuwde,\nde handen wrong, zich op het gelaat en de borst sloeg, en dan weder als\neen razende danste en sprong. Het duurde eene geruime poos eer ik het\nzoo ver brengen kon, dat hij tot mij sprak en mij zeide wat er van de\nzaak was, maar toen hij een weinig tot zichzelven kwam verhaalde hij\nmij, dat dit zijn vader was.\nIk zou moeijelijk kunnen uitdrukken hoe het mij trof, toen ik zag hoe\nkrachtig de verrukking en kinderliefde waren bij dezen wilde, toen hij\nzijn vader, en dat wel van den dood gered wederzag; ik kan inderdaad\nniet half al de volgende uitsporige blijken zijner kinderlijke liefde\nbeschrijven, want hij was nu eens in de kanoe en dan weder er uit. Als\nhij er in kwam, ging hij naast zijn vader zitten en hield diens hoofd\ntegen zijne borst gedrukt, gelijk eene moeder haren zuigeling, een half\nuur achtereen om hem te koesteren; dan nam hij zijne armen en beenen,\ndie geschaafd en stijf van het binden waren, en verwarmde en wreef die\nmet zijne handen; en ik dit ziende gaf hem wat rum uit mijne flesch om\nze te wrijven, hetgeen ze zeer veel goed deed.\nDit maakte een einde aan onze vervolging van de andere kanoe met de\nwilden, die thans genoegzaam uit het gezigt geraakt was, en dit was een\ngeluk voor ons, want twee uren later woei het zoo hard, terwijl zij nog\ngeen kwartier ver konden zijn, en het bleef den geheelen nacht zoo hard\nuit het noordwesten doorstormen, dat ik niet onderstellen kon, dat bij\ndien zwaren tegenwind hunne kanoe zee kon bouwen noch zij hunne kust\nbereiken konden.\nDoch om tot Vrijdag terug te keeren: hij had het zoo druk met zijn\nvader, dat het mij eenigen tijd niet van het hart kon hem te roepen,\nmaar eindelijk deed ik het, en hij kwam lagchende en dansende naar mij\ntoe. Ik vroeg hem of hij zijn vader wat brood had gegeven. Hij schudde\nhet hoofd, en zeide: \"Neen, ik slechte kerel, alles opgegeten heb.\" Ik\ngaf hem dus een stuk, dat ik nog in mijn zak had, voor zijn vader en een\nslok rum voor hem, maar hij wilde het niet drinken maar bragt het ook\naan zijn vader. Ik had twee of drie trossen rozijnen in mijn zak, die ik\nhem ook gaf voor hem en zijn vader. Maar naauwelijks had hij dit gedaan,\nof ik zag hem uit de kanoe springen en wegloopen alsof hij dol was. Hij\nliep zoo vlug (ik heb nimmer iemand gezien, die zoo snel kon loopen als\nhij) dat hij in een oogenblik uit het gezigt was, en of ik hem toeriep\nen naschreeuwde, het hielp niet. Een kwartier daarna zag ik hem\nterugkomen, schoon niet zoo snel als vroeger, omdat hij iets droeg, en\nnaderbij gekomen, zag ik, dat het eene pot met water was.\nToen hij bij mij kwam zag ik, dat hij een aarden pot of pan gehaald had\nom zijn vader wat zoet water te brengen, en hij had ook een paar koeken\nof brooden medegebragt. Het brood gaf hij mij, maar het water bragt hij\naan zijn vader, hoewel ik, die zeer dorstig was, er ook een slokje van\nnam. Het water verkwikte zijn vader meer dan al de sterke drank, dien ik\nhem gegeven had, want hij bezweek schier van dorst. Toen zijn vader\ngedronken had, riep ik hem of er nog water over was, en daar hij ja\nzeide, gelastte ik hem dit aan den armen Spanjaard te geven, die het\neven hoog noodig had als zijn vader, en ik zond tevens een stuk brood\nnaar dien man, die zeer afgemat was, en in de schaduw van een boom lag\nuit te rusten, en wiens leden ook zeer stijf en gezwollen waren van het\nzware knevelen, dat men hem gedaan had. Ik zag, dat toen Vrijdag met het\nwater bij hem kwam, hij overeind ging zitten en dronk en ook een stuk\nbrood at; ik ging dus naar hem toe en gaf hem ook een tros rozijnen. Hij\nzag mij aan met een gelaat, waarop de dankbaarheid ten duidelijkste te\nlezen stond, maar was zoo zwak, niettegenstaande hij zich in het\ngevecht zoo dapper geweerd had, dat hij niet opstaan kon; hij beproefde\nhet twee of drie malen, maar kon niet op de been komen; zijne enkels\nwaren zoo gezwollen en zoo pijnlijk, dat ik hem verzocht te blijven\nzitten en Vrijdag gelastte zijne beenen te wrijven en met rum te\nwasschen, gelijk hij zijn vader gedaan had.\nGedurende al den tijd, dat hij dit deed, vergingen er geen twee minuten\nof de arme jonge keerde het hoofd om, om te zien of zijn vader nog op\ndezelfde plaats en in dezelfde houding zat, waarin hij hem verlaten had,\nen toen hij eindelijk hem eens niet zag, sprong hij, zonder een woord te\nspreken op, en liep er zoo snel naar toe, dat het scheen alsof zijne\nvoeten den grond niet raakten, maar bij hem komende bespeurde hij, dat\nhij alleen gemakshalve was gaan liggen. Dus kwam hij tot mij terug, en\nik zeide den Spanjaard, dat Vrijdag hem zou helpen om als hij kon naar\nde boot te gaan, en dan zou ik hem naar onze woning voeren om verder\nvoor hem te zorgen; maar Vrijdag, die een sterke knaap was, nam den\nSpanjaard op zijn rug en droeg hem zoo naar de boot, zette hem\nvoorzigtig op het boord van de kanoe, met zijne voeten er in, ligtte hem\nvervolgens er geheel in en zette hem naast zijn vader, en vervolgens de\nboot afzettende, pagaaide hij die langs de kust sneller dan ik loopen\nkon, schoon het vrij hard woei. Zoo bragt hij ze behouden in de kreek,\nen hen in de boot latende, liep hij heen om de andere kanoe te halen.\nTerwijl hij mij voorbij liep vroeg ik waar hij heenging. Hij zeide:\n\"Meer boot halen,\" en weg vloog hij als de wind, want nimmer liep een\nmensch of paard harder, en hij was met de andere kanoe bijkans zoo\nspoedig aan de kreek als ik er over land kwam, dus haalde hij mij over,\nen ging toen onze nieuwe gasten uit de boot halen, maar zij waren geen\nvan beide in staat om te loopen, dus wist de arme Vrijdag niet wat hij\ndoen zou.\nOm hier te helpen, spande ik mijne hersens in, en toen Vrijdag roepende,\nzeide ik hem hen te verzoeken op het strand te blijven zitten. Spoedig\nhad ik daarop eene soort van draagbaar gemaakt en Vrijdag en ik droegen\nhen daarop tusschen ons in. Maar aan onzen buitenwal gekomen, waren wij\nnog meer in verlegenheid, want het was ons onmogelijk hen er over te\nhelpen, en ik wilde die niet gaarne afbreken. Vrijdag en ik gingen dus\nweder aan het werk, en binnen een paar uren hadden wij een vrij knappe\ntent opgeslagen, met oude zeilen en daarover takken bedekt, op de opene\nplek, tusschen mijn buitenste schans en de streek jong hout, door mij\ngeplant, en hier maakten wij hun twee bedden van hetgeen ik had,\nnamelijk van rijsten stroo, met dekens er over om op te liggen, en op\nieder bed een deken om hen te dekken.\nNu was mijn eiland bevolkt, en ik achtte mij reeds ruim voorzien van\nonderdanen, en verheugde mij thans dikwijls met het denkbeeld hoeveel ik\nvan een koning had. In de eerste plaats was het eiland geheel en al mijn\neigendom, zoodat mijn regt van heerschappij onbetwistbaar was. Ten\ntweede was mijn volk mij volkomen onderdanig; ik was hun oppermagtig\nheer en wetgever; zij hadden allen hun leven aan mij te danken, en waren\nbereidwillig hun leven voor mij op te offeren, als daartoe de\ngelegenheid zich opdeed. Het was ook opmerkelijk, dat hoewel ik slechts\ndrie onderdanen had, deze allen een verschillend geloof hadden. Vrijdag\nwas een Protestant, zijn vader een Heiden en Kannibaal, en de Spanjaard\neen Roomschgezinde. Ik liet echter door mijn geheele gebied, volkomen\nvrijheid van godsdienst heerschen. Doch dit in het voorbijgaan.\nNaauwelijks had ik mijne twee verloste, zwakke gevangenen te huis\ngebragt, en hun huisvesting en eene slaapplaats verschaft, of ik begon\naan eenigen leeftogt voor hen te denken. Het eerste wat ik deed was\nVrijdag te gelasten een halfwassen, eenjarige geit uit mijne kudde, te\ndooden; ik nam daarop het achterdeel, en hakte dat aan kleine stukjes;\ndaarop zette ik Vrijdag aan het koken en braden, en maakte hun een zeer\ngoeden maaltijd van vleesch en soep gereed; in welke laatste ik ook\neenige rijst en wat koren gedaan had; en na het buiten's huis gekookt te\nhebben, want ik stookte nimmer vuur binnen mijne schans, bragt ik het\neten naar de nieuwe tent. Na eene tafel voor hen geplaatst te hebben,\nging ik met hen het middagmaal houden, en sprak hen zooveel mogelijk\nmoed in, met behulp van Vrijdag, die mijn tolk was bij zijn vader, en\nook bij den Spanjaard, want deze sprak de taal der wilden zeer goed.\nNa gegeten te hebben, gelastte ik Vrijdag eene kanoe te nemen en onze\ngeweren en andere wapens te halen, die wij in de haast op het slagveld\nhadden laten liggen, en den volgenden dag zond ik hem uit om de lijken\nder gedoode wilden te gaan begraven, die thans in de zon lagen, en\ntevens de overblijfselen van hun afschuwelijk gastmaal onder den grond\nte bedelven. Ik kon er niet aan denken dit zelf te doen, noch zelfs het\naan te zien als ik dien kant uitging. Dit alles volbragt hij zeer stipt,\nen deed zelfs alle sporen, dat hier wilden geweest waren, verdwijnen,\nzoodat toen ik weder dien kant uitkwam, ik niet vinden kon waar het\ngeweest was, dan aan den hoek van het bosch, die zich naar het strand\nuitstrekte.\nIk begon toen mij een weinig te onderhouden met mijne twee nieuwe\nonderdanen, en het eerst deed ik Vrijdag aan zijn vader vragen wat hij\ndacht van de vlugt dier wilden in de kanoe, en of wij mogten verwachten\nhen te zien terugkeeren met eene overmagt, die wij niet zouden kunnen\nwederstaan. Zijne eerste meening was, dat de wilden nimmer den storm\nzouden hebben kunnen doorstaan, die des avonds, nadat zij vertrokken\nwaren, was opgestoken, maar dat zij noodwendig verdronken of zuidwaarts\nverder op de kust moesten geslagen zijn, en dan zouden zij even zeker\ngeslagt worden. Maar wat zij doen zouden als zij behouden aan hunne kust\nkwamen, wist hij niet, maar hij was van meening, dat de wijze waarop zij\novervallen waren geworden, dat de schoten en het vuur hun zooveel schrik\nzouden aangejaagd hebben, dat zij hunnen landslieden zouden zeggen, dat\nzij door donder en bliksem en niet door menschenhanden gedood waren; en\ndat de twee, die zij gezien hadden (namelijk Vrijdag en ik) geen\ngewapende menschen, maar twee hemelsche of helsche geesten waren,\ngekomen om hen te verdelgen. Dit wist hij, zeide hij, omdat hij hen dit\nin hunne taal elkander had hooren toeroepen, want het was hun onmogelijk\nte begrijpen, dat een man vuur spuwen en donder spreken en van uit de\nverte dooden kon, zonder de hand op te heffen, gelijk thans geschied\nwas.--De oude wilde had gelijk, want gelijk ik naderhand langs een\nanderen weg vernam, de wilden uit die streek hebben nimmer weder\nbeproefd het eiland te naderen. Zij waren zoo ontzet door het verhaal\nvan die vier menschen, (want deze waren naar het schijnt, niet op zee\nvergaan) dat zij geloofden, dat ieder, die zich op dit betooverd eiland\nwaagde, door de goden met vuur zou verdelgd worden. Ik, die dit echter\nniet wist, bleef een geruimen tijd in aanhoudende vrees, en was altijd\nop mijne hoede, met mijn geheele leger, en daar wij nu met ons vieren\nwaren, zou ik mij altijd tegen honderd van hen in het open veld gewaagd\nhebben.\nDaar er echter na eene poos geene kanoes kwamen opdagen, sleet de vrees\nvoor hunne komst uit, en ik begon mijne vroegere denkbeelden van een\ntogt naar het vaste land weder op te vatten, daar nu ook Vrijdags vader\nmij verzekerd had, dat ik door hem op een goed onthaal bij zijn volk\nmogt rekenen als ik daarheen ging.\nEchter schorste ik mijn voornemen eenigen tijd op, na een ernstig\ngesprek met den Spanjaard, en toen ik vernam, dat er nog zestien zijner\nlandslieden en Portugezen, in den storm daar het leven gered hadden, en\ndaar wel in vrede met de wilden leefden, maar niets meer ontvingen dan\nhoog noodig was om niet van honger te sterven. Ik vroeg hem al de\nbijzonderheden zijner reis, en vernam, dat zij op een Spaansch schip\nbehoord hadden van Rio de la Plata naar Havanna bestemd, met last om\ndaar hunne lading, die hoofdzakelijk uit huiden en zilver bestond, te\nlossen, en zoodanige Europesche goederen als zij daar konden vinden,\nterug te brengen; dat zij vijf Portugesche matrozen aan boord hadden\ngehad, die door hen van een ander wrak gered waren; dat bij het vergaan\nvan hun schip vijf man van hun eigen volk verdronken waren, en dat de\ngeredden onnoemelijke gevaren hadden doorgestaan, en half dood van\nhonger op de Kannibaalsche kust gekomen waren, waar zij verwachtten elk\noogenblik vermoord te zullen worden.\nHij verhaalde mij, dat zij eenige wapens hadden, die hun echter\nvolstrekt van geen nut waren, omdat zij kruid noch lood hadden; het\nzeewater had al hun kruid bedorven, op een klein weinig na, dat zij\ngebruikt hadden toen zij het eerst aan land waren gekomen, om zich eenig\nvoedsel te verschaffen. Ik vroeg hem wat hij dacht, dat er daar van hen\nworden zou, en of zij geen plan tot ontvlugting ooit gemaakt hadden.\nHierover zeide hij, hadden zij dikwijls beraadslaagd, maar daar zij noch\nvaartuigen, noch werktuigen om ze te bouwen, bezaten, noch eenigen\nvoorraad hoegenaamd, was hunne overlegging altijd in wanhoop en tranen\nge\u00ebindigd. Ik vroeg hem hoe hij dacht, dat een voorstel van mij ten\naanzien van hunne redding, zou opgenomen worden, en of dit niet\ngeschieden kon als zij allen hier waren. Ik zeide hem ronduit, dat ik\nbovenal vreesde voor verraad en mishandeling van hunnentwege, als ik\nmijn leven in hunne handen stelde, want dat de dankbaarheid geene\naangeboren deugd der menschen is; en dewijl de menschen niet alleen\nhandelen naar gelang van hunne verpligtingen, maar veeleer naar het\nvoordeel, dat zij verwachten. Ik zeide hem, dat het zeer hard zou zijn,\nals ik de bewerker hunner bevrijding was, en dat zij mij naderhand in\nNieuw-Spanje tot hun gevangene maakten, waar een Engelschman van zijn\ndood zeker was, welke nooddwang of welk toeval hem ook derwaarts voerde,\nen dat ik liever aan de wilden overgeleverd en geslagt wilde worden, dan\nin de onbarmhartige handen der inquisitie te vallen. Ik voegde er bij,\ndat ik mij overigens overtuigd hield, dat zoo zij allen hier waren, wij\neen boot konden bouwen, groot genoeg om ons allen of zuidwaarts naar\nBrazili\u00eb of de eilanden, of noordwaarts naar de Spaansche kust te\nvoeren; maar, dat als zij ter vergelding, als ik hen eens wapens in de\nhand had gegeven, mij met geweld naar hun eigen land voerden, mijne\ngoedheid jegens hen slecht beloond worden, en ik er erger aan toe zijn\nzou dan vroeger.\nHij antwoordde met veel openhartigheid en verstand, dat hun toestand zoo\njammerlijk was, en zij dit zoo zeer inzagen, dat hij geloofde, dat zij\nhet denkbeeld van iemand, die iets tot hunne bevrijding had bijgedragen,\nondankbaar te behandelen, zouden verafschuwen; en dat hij, als ik het\nverkoos, met den ouden man naar hen toe zou gaan, er met hen over\nspreken, en mij hun antwoord terug komen brengen; dat hij hen een\nplegtigen eed zou afeischen, dat zij zich geheel onder mijn bevel\nstelden, als hun kapitein en bevelhebber; en dat zij mij op de Heilige\nSacramenten en het Evangelie trouw zouden zweren, en naar zoodanig\nChristenland gaan als ik verlangde, en naar geen ander; dat zij zich\ngeheel en volkomen onder mijne orders zouden beschouwen tot wij behouden\ngeland waren, in zoodanig land als ik verkoos, en dat hij een contract\ndaarover, door hen onderteekend, zou medebrengen.\nVervolgens zeide hij, dat hij zelf eerst wilde zweren mij nimmer,\nzoolang hij leefde, te zullen verlaten, zonder mijn bevel, en dat hij\nzijn laatsten druppel bloed voor mij zou vergieten; als zijne\nlandslieden zich aan de minste verbreking hunner beloften schuldig\nmaakten.\nHij verhaalde mij, dat het allen zeer beschaafde, brave lieden waren,\ndie zich in den jammerlijksten toestand bevonden, dien men zich kan\nverbeelden, daar zij noch wapens, noch kleederen, noch eenig voedsel\nhadden, maar geheel van de genade der wilden afhingen, en dat hij\nverzekerd was, dat, als ik ondernam hen te verlossen, ik in leven en\ndood op hen kon rekenen.\nOp deze verzekeringen besloot ik het te wagen hen zoo mogelijk te\nverlossen, en den ouden wilde en den Spanjaard naar hen toe te zenden,\nom met hen te onderhandelen. Maar toen de Spanjaard gereed stond om te\nvertrekken, maakte hij zelf mij een zwarigheid, die aan den eenen kant\nzoo gegrond was, en aan den anderen kant zoo van zijne opregtheid\ngetuigde, dat ik niet anders dan met hem instemmen kon, en naar zijn\nraad, de bevrijding zijner makkers, ten minste een half jaar uitstelde.\nHet geval was namelijk dit.\nHij was nu ongeveer eene maand bij mij geweest, gedurende welke ik hem\nhad laten zien hoe ik, met bijstand der Voorzienigheid, voor mijn\nlevensonderhoud gezorgd had; en hij zag toen mijn voorraad van rijst en\ngraan, die hoewel meer dan genoeg voor mij zelven, echter niet voldoende\nwas, ten minste slechts schraal, voor mijn nieuw gezin, nu dit uit vier\npersonen bestond; maar nog veel minder zou het genoeg zijn als zijne\nlandslieden, waarvan, gelijk hij zeide, nog veertien in leven waren,\noverkwamen, en nog veel minder was er genoeg om ons vaartuig te\nprovianderen, als wij er een gebouwd hadden, voor eene reis naar een\nder vestigingen in Amerika. Dus zeide hij mij, dat hij het raadzamer\nachtte, als ik hem en de twee anderen nog eenig land liet omspitten en\nbezaaijen, met zooveel zaaikoren als ik thans besparen kon, opdat wij\ngenoeg graan in voorraad mogten hebben voor zijne landslieden, als die\nkomen mogten; want het gebrek mogt hen in verzoeking brengen om hunne\nbelofte te verbreken, en zij zich slechts uit de eene ongelegenheid in\nde andere gestort zien. \"Gij weet,\" zeide hij, \"dat schoon de kinderen\nIsra\u00ebls zich eerst verheugden over hunne verlossing uit Egypte, zij\nechter tegen God zelf, die hun verlost had, opstonden, toen zij in de\nwoestijn aan brood gebrek leden.\"\nZijne omzigtigheid was zoo prijsselijk en zijn raad zoo goed, dat ik\nniet dan genoegen in zijn voorstel kon nemen, zoowel als voldaan zijn\nover zijne getrouwheid. Dus gingen wij alle vier aan het spitten, zoo\ngoed als dit met onze houten spaden ging, en ongeveer na eene maand,\nwanneer het zaaitijd was, hadden wij zooveel land ontgind, dat wij\ntwee\u00ebntwintig schepels graan en zestien potten rijst zaaiden, hetwelk al\nhet zaaikoren was, dat wij missen konden, zelfs hielden wij naauwelijks\ngenoeg graan over voor ons eigen voedsel, voor de zes maanden, waarin\nwij op onzen oogst moesten wachten, dat wil zeggen, te rekenen van den\ntijd, dat wij ons zaaikoren hadden afgezonderd, want men moet niet\nonderstellen, dat het daar te lande zes maanden in den grond bleef.\nDaar ik nu gezelschap had, en wij ook talrijk genoeg waren om niets te\nvreezen van de wilden, als die gekomen waren, tenzij hun aantal\nbovenmate groot was, gingen wij zoo dikwijls wij er den tijd toe hadden,\nhet geheele eiland door; en daar nu onze bevrijding ons steeds voor den\ngeest zweefde, was het ons, althans mij, onmogelijk niet telkens de\nmiddelen daartoe te overdenken. Te dien einde merkte ik verscheidene\nboomen, die ik voor ons werk geschikt achtte, en zette Vrijdag en zijn\nvader aan het vellen daarvan, en dan liet ik den Spanjaard, wien ik\nmijne gedachten daaromtrent mededeelde, hun werk nagaan en bestieren. Ik\nwees hem met wat onvermoeiden arbeid ik zware boomen tot planken had\ngekapt, en liet hem hetzelfde verrigten, tot zij ongeveer een dozijn\neikenhouten planken bijeen hadden, van bijkans twee voet breed,\nvijfendertig voet lang en van twee tot vier duim dik. Welke ontzettende\narbeid dit vereischte, zal iedereen ligt begrijpen.\nTe gelijker tijd trachtte ik mijne kudde van tamme geiten zooveel\nmogelijk te vermenigvuldigen, en te dien einde gingen Vrijdag en de\nSpanjaard den eenen dag, en Vrijdag en ik den anderen dag, beurtelings\nuit, en vingen ongeveer twintig jonge geiten, om bij de overigen op te\nkweeken, want als wij de moeder doodschoten, spaarden wij de jongen en\nvoegden die bij onze kudde. Maar vooral deed ik, toen de tijd tot het\ndroogen van druiven gekomen was, zulk eene groote menigte in de zon\nhangen, dat ik geloof, als wij te Alicante, waar men de druiven in de\nzon droogt, geweest waren, wij zestig tot tachtig vaten gevuld zouden\nhebben. Deze maakten met ons brood, grootendeels onze spijs uit; en het\nwas een zeer goed voedsel, dat kan ik verzekeren, want zij zijn zeer\nvoedzaam.\nHet was nu herfst en de oogst stond zeer goed. Wel was hij niet zoo\novervloedig als ik wel eens beleefd had, maar toch voor ons oogmerk\nvoldoende, want van de twee\u00ebntwintig schepels zaaikoorn, oogstten en\ndorschten wij ongeveer tweehonderd-en-twintig schepels, en van de rijst\nnaar evenredigheid; hetwelk voor ons voedsel genoeg was tot aan den\nvolgenden oogst, al waren ook al de zestien Spanjaarden bij mij geweest,\nof zoo wij tot eene reis gereed waren hadden wij hiermede ons ruim\nkunnen provianderen voor eene reis naar iedere plaats, dat is te zeggen\nvan Amerika. Toen wij aldus ons koorn te huis gehaald hadden, gingen wij\naan het vlechten van groote manden om het in te bewaren, waarin de\nSpanjaard vooral zeer handig was, die mij dikwijls laakte, dat ik\nhiervan geene verdedigingsmiddelen maakte, maar ik zag er de\nnoodzakelijkheid niet van in.\nNu ik voor al de gasten, die ik verwachtte, genoeg te eten had, gaf ik\nden Spanjaard verlof den overtogt te doen en te zien, wat hij kon doen\nmet de achtergeblevenen. Ik gaf hem een schriftelijken last, niemand\nmede te brengen, die niet eerst in tegenwoordigheid van hem en den ouden\nwilde gezworen had, dat hij op geenerlei wijze den persoon, dien hij op\nhet eiland vinden zou, die zoo goed was hen te hunner bevrijding af te\nhalen, zou beleedigen, bevechten of aanvallen, maar dat zij hem zouden\nbijstaan en verdedigen tegen al zoodanige ondernemingen, en dat waar zij\nook gingen, zij geheel en al onder zijn bevel en gezag zouden staan, en\ndat dit in schrift gesteld en door hen onderteekend zou worden. Hoe dat\nlaatste zou geschieden, daar ik wist, dat zij pen noch inkt hadden, was\neene zaak daar wij in het geheel niet over gedacht hadden.\nMet deze lastgevingen vertrokken de Spanjaard en de oude wilde, de vader\nvan Vrijdag, in een der kanoes, waarmede zij gekomen of liever gebragt\nwaren door de wilden om verslonden te worden. Ik gaf ieder een geweer en\nzes of acht scherpe patronen mede, met last hiermede zuinig te zijn en\nze niet dan bij dringende noodzakelijkheid te gebruiken. Dit was voor\nmij eene aangename verrigting, want het waren de eerste maatregelen, die\nik sedert meer dan zeven-en-twintig jaren, ter mijner bevrijding genomen\nhad. Ik gaf hun zooveel brood en rozijnen mede, als niet alleen genoeg\nwas voor hen gedurende een geruimen tijd, maar ook voor al hunne\nlandslieden voor acht dagen; en na hun goede reis gewenscht te hebben,\nliet ik hen vertrekken, na een sein met hen afgesproken te hebben, dat\nzij bij hunne terugkomst zouden laten waaijen, en waaraan ik hen op een\nafstand en v\u00f3\u00f3r zij aan den wal kwamen, kon herkennen.\nZij vertrokken bij gunstigen wind en met volle maan, volgens mijne\nrekening in de maand October, doch nadat eens mijne rekening van de\ndagen in de war was geraakt, kon ik die nimmer weder in orde brengen;\nzelfs wist ik niet zeker, of ik de jaren wel volkomen juist had\nberekend, doch naderhand bleek het, dat mijne rekening van de jaren\nvolkomen juist was.\nHet was nu acht dagen, dat ik reeds op hen wachtte, toen een zeldzaam\nen onverwacht voorval, en welks gelijken welligt niet in de geschiedenis\nis vermeld, gebeurde. Ik lag op een morgen gerust te slapen toen Vrijdag\nkwam binnenstuiven, luidkeels roepende: \"Meester, meester, daar komen\nzij, daar komen zij!\"--Ik sprong op, en zonder om eenig gevaar te\ndenken, ging ik, zoodra ik mijne kleederen aangeschoten had, door mijn\nboschje, dat thans een dik bosch geworden was, ik zeg, zonder aan eenig\ngevaar te denken, ging ik zonder wapens uit, hetgeen anders mijne\ngewoonte niet was; maar ik zag verbaasd op, toen ik, zeewaarts ziende,\nop ongeveer een half uur afstands, eene boot naar den wal zag zeilen,\nmet eene gunstige koelte, zoodat zij spoedig moest aankomen. Ook merkte\nik thans op, dat zij niet van dien kant kwam waar het vaste land lag,\nmaar van het zuidelijkste einde van het eiland. Hierom riep ik Vrijdag\nen gelastte hem zich te verbergen, want dat dit niet de lieden waren,\ndie wij verwachtten; en wij nog niet wisten of dit vrienden of vijanden\nwaren.\nIn de eerste plaats ging ik mijn kijker halen, om te zien wat ik van hen\nontdekken kon, en na de ladder opgezet te hebben, klom ik naar den top\nvan den heuvel, gelijk ik gewoon was als ik ergens voor vreesde, en goed\nwenschte te zien zonder ontdekt te worden. Ik had naauwelijks mijn voet\nop den heuvel gezet, of ik ontdekte duidelijk een schip, dat op twee en\neen halve mijl van mij af, maar slechts anderhalve mijl van het strand\nin het Z. Z. O. voor anker lag, en scherper toeziende bemerkte ik\nduidelijk, dat het een Engelsch schip, en de boot eene Engelsche sloep\nwas.\nIk kan niet zeggen, hoezeer mij dit verraste; schoon de vreugde van een\nschip te zien, hetwelk ik reden had te gelooven, dat door landgenooten\nen dus bevriend volk van mij, bemand was, onbeschrijfelijk was, werd ik\nechter door eene geheime en onverklaarbare angstvalligheid aangedreven,\nom op mijne hoede te zijn. In de eerste plaats begreep ik niet wat een\nEngelsch schip in dit oord kon komen doen, daar dit niet de weg was naar\nof van eenig deel der wereld, waarop de Engelschen handel dreven; en ik\nwist, dat er geen stormen geheerscht hadden, die hen daarheen hadden\nkunnen slaan; zoodat als zij werkelijk Engelschen waren, zij met geen\ngoed oogmerk hier waren, en ik beter deed te blijven waar ik was dan in\nde handen van dieven en moordenaars te vallen.\nLaat niemand dit geheime voorgevoel van gevaar verachten, dat hij\nsomwijlen ontvangt, als hij zelfs aan de mogelijkheid van het gevaar\ngeen geloof kan slaan. Weinigen geloof ik, die gewoon zijn gade te slaan\nwat er om hen heen gebeurt, kunnen ontkennen, dat ons zulke\nwaarschuwingen gegeven worden; wij kunnen niet dan die aan de werking\nvan eene onzigtbare magt, buiten ons, toeschrijven, en waarom zouden wij\nniet onderstellen, dat die ons tot ons bestwil gegeven worden.\nHetgeen er thans voorviel, levert hiervan een blijk op, want zoo deze\ngeheime stem mij niet tot behoedzaamheid had aangedreven, ware ik mijn\nverderf in den mond geloopen, en in veel erger toestand dan te voren\ngeraakt, gelijk men zien zal.\nIk was niet lang op den heuvel geweest, of ik zag de sloep digt langs\nhet strand komen, alsof men naar eene kreek zocht om haar in te brengen,\nom gemakkelijker aan land te kunnen komen. Daar zij echter niet ver\ngenoeg gingen, zagen zij den kleinen inham niet, waar ik vroeger mijne\nvlotten aan land gebragt had, maar zetten de boot op het strand op eene\nhalve (Eng.) mijl van mij af, hetgeen zeer gelukkig was, want anders\nzouden zij als het ware voor mijne deur geland, en mij spoedig uit mijn\nkasteel gejaagd, en welligt van alles beroofd hebben wat ik had.\nToen zij aan wal waren zag ik duidelijk, dat het Engelschen waren,\nalthans de meesten; een of twee hield ik voor Hollanders, maar dit was\nzoo niet. Er waren in het geheel elf mannen, waarvan drie ongewapend, en\nnaar ik meende, gebonden; en toen er vier of vijf van de eersten op\nstrand gesprongen waren, deden zij de drie gevangenen uit de boot gaan.\nEen van de drie stelde zich aan als een wanhopige, de beide anderen\nhieven slechts een paar malen de handen hemelwaarts, en schenen zeer\nne\u00earslagtig, schoon niet zoo ontsteld als de eerste. Ik was geheel\nverbaasd over hetgeen ik zag, en wist niet wat ik er van begrijpen\nmoest. Vrijdag riep mij toe: \"O meester, gij ziet, dat de Engelsche\nmannen ook hunne gevangenen opeten, zoo goed als de wilden!\"--\"Denkt\ngij, dat zij hen zullen opeten, Vrijdag?\" vroeg ik.--\"Ja,\" zeide hij,\n\"zij zullen hen opeten.\"--\"Neen, neen, Vrijdag,\" hernam ik, \"ik vrees\nwel, dat zij hen zullen vermoorden, maar gij kunt er op aan, dat zij hen\nniet zullen opeten.\"\nAl dien tijd wist ik niet wat ik denken moest, maar stond te beven van\nafschuw, daar ik ieder oogenblik verwachtte, dat de gevangenen vermoord\nzouden worden; en zelfs zag ik, dat een der schurken zijn sabel ophief,\nom een der gevangenen te dreigen, en ik verwachtte ieder oogenblik, hem\nte zien toeslaan, bij welk gezigt mij het bloed in de aderen verstijfde.\nIk wenschte thans hartelijk, dat de Spanjaard en de oude wilde, die met\nhem vertrokken was, bij mij waren, of dat ik eenig middel wist, om,\nzonder ontdekt te worden, hen binnen bereik van mijn geweer te brengen,\nom de drie mannen te verlossen, want ik zag geen vuurwapenen bij hen;\nmaar mij werd eene andere gelegenheid hiertoe verschaft.\nNadat de matrozen deze drie lieden zoo mishandeld hadden, zag ik, dat\nzij hier en daar heenzwierven, als om het land te gaan bezien. Ik\nbemerkte ook, dat de drie mannen konden gaan, waar zij wilden, maar zij\nbleven alle drie op het strand zitten in een allerne\u00earslagtigste\nhouding. Dit herinnerde mij hoe ik voor de eerste maal aan land kwam en\nin het rond zag; hoe ik mij verloren achtte, hoe ik verwilderd in het\nrond staarde, welken schrikkelijken angst ik uitstond, en hoe ik, uit\nvrees voor wilde dieren, den geheelen nacht op een boom doorbragt. Even\nals ik dien nacht niets wist van den onderstand, dien ik ontvangen zou,\ndoordien wind en tij het schip digter bij het land drijven zouden,\nwaardoor ik sedert zoo lang voedsel en kleederen had erlangd, evenzoo\nwisten deze drie wanhopigen niet, hoe gewis zij op bijstand en\nbevrijding konden rekenen, en hoe zij werkelijk in veiligheid Waren,\ntoen zij zich verloren en hunne zaak wanhopig achtten.\nZoo weinig kunnen wij in de wereld vooruitzien, en zooveel reden hebben\nwij om welgemoed van onzen Schepper te vertrouwen, dat hij zijne\nschepselen niet zoo geheel zal verlaten, maar dat zij in de\nongelukkigste omstandigheden altijd stof tot dankbaarheid hebben, en\nsomtijds nader bij hunne redding zijn dan zij zich verbeelden, ja hunne\nredding zelfs te danken hebben aan de middelen, die zij als oorzaak van\nhun verderf beschouwen.\nHet water was juist op zijn hoogst toen deze lieden aan den wal kwamen,\nen terwijl zij gedeeltelijk stonden te spreken met de gevangenen, die\nzij medegebragt hadden, en gedeeltelijk rondzwierven om te zien, op\nwelke soort van plaats zij waren, hadden zij zorgeloos getoefd, totdat\nde eb was doorgekomen, en hunne sloep hoog en droog op het strand zat.\nZij hadden twee man in de boot achtergelaten, die, gelijk ik naderhand\nbevond, wat te veel brandewijn gedronken hadden en vast in slaap\ngevallen waren. Een van hen echter ontwaakte, en vindende, dat hij de\nboot niet in beweging kon brengen, riep hij zijne kameraden, die in de\nnabijheid rondzwierven, maar zij waren met hun allen niet sterk genoeg,\nom de sloep, die zeer zwaar was, vlot te krijgen, daar het strand aldaar\nuit fijn en los zand bestond.\nIn dezen staat van zaken gaven zij het op, als echte zeelieden, die van\nalle menschen misschien het minste gewoon zijn aan voorzorgen te denken,\nen gingen weder landwaarts in, en ik hoorde een hunner luid tot een\nander roepen, terwijl hij hem uit de boot riep: \"Kom, Jack, laat haar\nliggen; het volgende tij zal haar vlot maken.\" Hierdoor wist ik thans\nzeker van welke natie zij waren.\nAl dien tijd hield ik mij verborgen, en durfde zelfs niet verder dan\nmijn schuilhoek op den heuvel, mijn kasteel verlaten, en ik was blijde\nals ik bedacht, hoe goed het versterkt was. Ik wist, dat de sloep niet\ndan na tien uren vlot kon komen, en dan zou het duister zijn, en ik\nhunne bewegingen gade slaan, en hunne gesprekken, als zij die voerden,\nafluisteren. Middelerwijl maakte ik mij tot een gevecht gereed, even als\nvroeger, maar met meer behoedzaamheid, daar ik wist, dat ik thans met\neen geheel ander slag van vijanden dan de vorige te doen had. Ik\ngelastte Vrijdag, die thans een zeer goed schutter was geworden, zich te\nwapenen. Ik nam twee jagtgeweren en gaf hem drie geweren. Mijn voorkomen\nwas waarlijk schrikbarend genoeg. Ik had mijn rok van geitenvellen aan,\nen mijne muts op, waarvan ik vroeger gesproken heb, een bloote sabel in\nde hand, twee pistolen in mijn gordel, en op ieder schouder een geweer.\nHet was gelijk ik hiervoor zeide, mijn oogmerk, niets te ondernemen voor\nhet duister was, maar tegen twee ure, op het heetste van den dag, vond\nik, dat zij allen het bosch ingegaan, en waarschijnlijk in slaap\ngevallen waren. De drie ongelukkigen, te ongerust over hunnen toestand\nom te slapen, waren echter in de schaduw van een grooten boom gaan\nzitten, ongeveer een kwartier van mij af, en naar ik meende, buiten het\ngezigt van een der overigen. Ik besloot hierop mij aan hen te ontdekken,\nen iets naders omtrent hunnen toestand te vernemen. Onmiddellijk trok\nik, in bovengemelde uitrusting op weg; en Vrijdag een eind weegs achter\nmij, die om zijne wapens ontzag genoeg moest inboezemen, maar niet zulk\neen schrikbarende spookgestalte als ik was. Ik naderde hen zonder\nopgemerkt te worden, en toen, voor een hunner mij bespeurd had, riep ik\nhen luid in het Spaansch toe: \"Wie zijt gij, heeren?\"\nZij sprongen verbaasd op, maar stonden tienmaal meer verbijsterd, toen\nzij mijn schrikbaarlijke gestalte zagen. Zij gaven geen antwoord, maar\nik verbeeldde mij, dat zij de vlugt wilden nemen, waarop ik hen in het\nEngelsch toesprak: \"Ontstel u niet, heeren; misschien vindt gij in mij\neen vriend, naderbij u dan gij verwachtte.\"--\"Dan moet gij regtstreeks\nvan den hemel gezonden zijn,\" zeide een hunner ernstig, en te gelijk den\nhoed afnemende, \"want menschelijke bijstand kan ons niet baten.\"--\"Alle\nbijstand komt van den hemel,\" zeide ik. \"Maar kunt gij een vreemdeling\nonderrigten, hoe hij u helpen kan, want gij schijnt in groote\nongelegenheid te zijn? Ik zag u toen gij aan land kwaamt, en toen gij de\nkerels, die u hier bragten, iets scheent af te smeeken, zag ik, dat een\nhunner zijne sabel tegen u ophief.\"\nDe arme man, wien de tranen over het gelaat biggelden, stond geheel\nverbijsterd, en zeide: \"Spreek ik tot een mensch of tot een\nengel?\"--\"Wees daar niet ontsteld over,\" zeide ik. \"Zoo God u een engel\ntoegezonden had, zoude deze beter gekleed en anders gewapend zijn dan\nik. Leg uwe vrees af; ik ben een mensch, een Engelschman, en geneigd u\nvan dienst te zijn, dat ziet gij. Ik heb maar een knecht, doch wij\nhebben kruid en lood. Zeg ons ronduit: kunnen wij u van dienst zijn? Wat\nis het geval?\"\n\"Ons geval,\" zeide hij, \"is te lang om u te verhalen, mijnheer, terwijl\nonze moordenaars zoo nabij zijn; doch in korte woorden, ik was kapitein\nop gindsch schip; mijn volk is aan het muiten geslagen; zij zijn met\nmoeite overgehaald om mijn leven te sparen, en hebben mij eindelijk op\ndit woeste eiland aan land gezet, met deze twee lieden, mijn stuurman is\nde eene, en de andere is een passagier, waar wij den dood verwachtten,\ndaar wij niet wisten, dat het eiland bewoond was, en nog niet weten wat\ner van te denken.\"\n\"Waar zijn die schelmen, uwe vijanden?\" vroeg ik. \"Weet gij waar zij\nheengegaan zijn?\"--\"Daar zijn zij, mijnheer,\" zeide hij, naar een bosch\nwijzende. \"Ik beef van angst, dat zij ons gezien en u hebben hooren\nspreken, want dan zullen zij ons zeker allen vermoorden.\"\n\"Hebben zij vuurwapenen?\" vroeg ik. Hij zeide, dat zij slechts twee\ngeweren hadden, waarvan een in de sloep was gebleven. \"Welnu, laat dan\nalles aan mij over,\" zeide ik. \"Het is gemakkelijk hen allen te dooden,\nmaar willen wij ze niet liever gevangen maken?\" Hij zeide, dat er twee\naartsschurken onder hen waren, wien het ongeraden was genade te\nverleenen, maar dat hij geloofde, dat zoo zij vermeesterd waren, de\noverigen wel tot hunnen pligt zouden terugkeeren. Ik vroeg hem wie dat\nwaren. Hij zeide, dat hij ze mij op dien afstand niet uitduiden kon,\nmaar dat hij bereid was, mij in alles te gehoorzamen.--\"Welnu,\" zeide\nik, \"laat ons dan buiten hun gehoor gaan, om hen niet wakker te maken,\nen dan zullen wij verder zien.\" Zij gingen daarop met mij terug tot de\nboomen, om voor hen verborgen te zijn.\n\"Nu, mijnheer,\" zeide ik, \"als ik het waag u te bevrijden, zult gij dan\ntwee voorwaarden met mij willen aangaan?\" Hij kwam mijn voorstel voor\ndoor mij te verzekeren, dat hij en zijn schip, als hij bevrijd werd,\ngeheel tot mijn bevel, en volkomen tot mijne beschikking waren, en dat\nzoo het schip niet weder bekomen mogt worden, hij met mij wilde leven en\nsterven, in welk werelddeel ik hem ook wilde voeren, en de twee anderen\nzeiden hetzelfde.\n\"Welnu,\" zeide ik, \"ik heb slechts twee voorwaarden. Vooreerst, dat\nzoolang gij hier op het eiland vertoeft, gij op geenerlei gezag hier\naanspraak maakt, en dat zoo ik u wapens ter hand stel, gij die bij alle\ngelegenheden, mij zult teruggeven, en mij noch het mijne op dit eiland\neenige schade toebrengen, en middelerwijl mijne bevelen gehoorzamen.\n\"Ten tweede, dat als het schip hernomen mogt worden, gij mij en mijne\ngoederen, zonder passagegeld te vorderen, naar Engeland zult medenemen.\"\nHij gaf mij alle verzekeringen van zijne trouw, die hij slechts kon\nbedenken, en dat hij aan deze allerbillijkste eischen zou voldoen, en\nbovendien zoolang hij leefde erkennen zou, dat hij zijn leven aan mij te\ndanken had.\n\"Welnu dan,\" zeide ik, \"hier zijn drie geweren voor u met kruid en lood.\nZeg mij nu wat gij thans geraden acht te doen.\" Hij herhaalde zijne\nbetuigingen, maar bood aan, zich geheel door mij te laten leiden. Ik\nzeide hem, dat het altijd gevaarlijk was wat wij ook ondernamen, maar\ndat het best wat ik bedenken kon was, te gelijk op hen vuur te geven, in\nhunnen slaap, en dat, als sommigen hunner bij deze eerste losbranding\nniet gedood werden, en om genade vroegen, wij hen dan konden sparen, en\naldus aan de Voorzienigheid over te laten hoedanig onze kogels te\nrigten. Hij antwoordde zeer menschlievend, dat hij ongaarne\nmenschenbloed zou vergieten, maar dat die twee lieden onverbeterlijke\nschurken en de aanleggers der geheele muiterij waren; dat zoo zij\ngespaard werden, zij zeker aan boord zouden terugkeeren en al het\nscheepsvolk medebrengen en ons allen vermoorden. \"Welnu,\" zeide ik, \"dan\nwettigt de noodzakelijkheid, hetgeen ik geraden heb, want het is het\neenigste middel om ons leven te sparen.\" Daar ik echter zag, dat hij nog\nhuiverde voor bloedvergieten, zeide ik, dat ik alles aan hem overliet,\nen dat zij konden handelen, zoo als zij goed vonden.\nOnder dit gesprek hoorden wij, dat eenigen hunner ontwaakten, en kort\ndaarna zagen wij twee man vertrekken. Ik vroeg hem of een van deze ook\nonder de belhamels behoorde. Hij zeide: \"neen.\" \"Welnu,\" zeide ik, \"laat\nhen dan gaan, de Voorzienigheid schijnt het, heeft hen doen ontwaken, om\nhun leven te sparen. Zoo de overigen u nu ontgaan, is het uwe eigene\nschuld.\"\nHierdoor aangemoedigd nam hij het geweer op, dat ik hem gegeven had, en\nstak een pistool in zijn gordel, en ging met zijne twee makkers, ieder\nmet een geweer in de hand, heen. De twee mannen, die bij hem waren en\nvooruit gingen, maakten eenig gerucht, waardoor een der matrozen, die\nwakker was, zich omkeerde, en hen ziende naderen, de overige te hulp\nriep; maar het was te laat; want op het oogenblik, dat hij riep gaven\nzij vuur, terwijl de kapitein wijsselijk zijn schot bespaarde. Zij\nhadden zoo goed de mannen uitgekozen, die zij kenden, dat een hunner op\nde plek dood bleef, en de ander zwaar gewond was; maar toch overeind\nkwam, en de anderen luid te hulp riep. De kapitein echter trad naar hem\ntoe, en zeide hem, dat het thans te laat was om hulp te vragen, dat hij\nGod vergiffenis mogt vragen voor zijne euveldaden, en velde hem daarop\nmet de kolf van zijn geweer neder, en sloot hem den mond voor altoos. Er\nwaren nog drie over, waarvan een ligt gekwetst was. Thans was ik er bij\ngekomen en toen zij hun gevaar zagen, en dat alle tegenstand vruchteloos\nwas, smeekten zij om genade. De kapitein zeide hun, dat hij hun leven\nsparen zou, als zij hem betuigden, dat zij hunne verraderij verfoeiden,\nen beloofden hem getrouw te zullen bijstaan in het hernemen van zijn\nschip, en het terug te voeren naar Jamaica, vanwaar hij kwam. Zij gaven\nhem alle beloften, die hij verlangde, en hij wilde gaarne hun leven\nsparen, waar ik niet tegen was, evenwel ried ik hem hen aan handen en\nvoeten gebonden, te bewaren, zoolang hij op het eiland was.\nTerwijl dit voorviel zond ik Vrijdag met den stuurman naar de sloep, met\nlast die vast te leggen, en de riemen en het zeil er uit te nemen,\nhetgeen zij deden, en kort daarop kwamen drie knapen, die, gelukkig voor\nhen, van hunne rondzwervende makkers afgeraakt waren, terug op het\nhooren der geweerschoten, en ziende, dat hun kapitein van hun gevangene\nnu hun overwinnaar geworden was, onderwierpen zij zich om op dezelfde\nwijze als de anderen gebonden te worden, en dus was onze overwinning\nvoltooid.\nNu bleef er slechts over, dat de kapitein en ik elkander mededeelden wat\nons overkomen was. Ik begon het eerst en verhaalde hem mijne geheele\ngeschiedenis, die hij met opmerkzame verbazing aanhoorde, bijzonder over\nde wondervolle wijze, waarop ik met levensmiddelen en kruid en lood\nvoorzien was geworden; en daar inderdaad mijne geheele geschiedenis eene\nreeks van wonderen is, trof dezelve hem diep; maar wanneer hij\nvervolgens om zichzelven dacht, en hoe ik scheen gespaard te zijn om hem\nhet leven te redden, liepen de tranen hem over het gelaat, en hij was\nniet in staat een woord te uiten.\nNa deze mededeeling bragt ik hem en zijne twee makkers in mijn vertrek,\nlangs denzelfden weg, waarop ik er uitgekomen was, zette hun zoodanige\nverkwikkingen voor als ik had, en wees hun al de inrigtingen, die ik\ngedurende mijn lang, lang verblijf in deze plaats had tot stand gebragt.\nZij verwonderden zich over al wat ik hun aanwees, al wat ik hun\nverhaalde, maar bovenal stond de kapitein verbaasd over mijne\nverschansingen, en hoe volkomen ik mijn verblijf had verborgen door eene\nreeks van boomen, die daar zij nu omstreeks twintig jaren gestaan\nhadden, en het hout hier veel sneller groeide dan in Engeland, een klein\nbosch en zoo digt was geworden, dat het overal ondoordringbaar was\ngeworden, behalve op die plaats waar een smal kronkelend pad liep. Ik\nverhaalde hem, dat dit mijn kasteel en residentie was; maar dat ik,\ngelijk de meeste vorsten een landverblijf had, waar ik nu en dan\nheentrok, en dat ik hem bij gelegenheid zou aanwijzen, maar thans was\nhet zaak te bedenken hoe wij ons weder van het schip zouden meester\nmaken. Hij stemde zulks toe, maar bekende, dat hij volstrekt niet wist\nwat maatregelen te nemen, want dat er nog zesentwintig man aan boord\nwaren, die daar zij in eene muiterij hadden deel genomen, waardoor zij\nvolgens de wet het leven verbeurd hadden, thans door wanhoop gedreven,\ndaarin zouden volharden, wetende, dat als zij zich onderwierpen, de galg\nhun lot zou zijn, zoodra zij in Engeland of een der Engelsche koloni\u00ebn\nkwamen, en dat het derhalve ongeraden zou zijn hen met ons klein getal\naan te tasten.\nIk dacht eenigen tijd na over hetgeen hij gezegd had, en vond zijne\ngevolgtrekking allezins gegrond, en dat er derhalve tot nog niets anders\nkon gedaan worden, dan het volk aan boord door verrassing in een\nvalstrik te lokken, zoodat zij niet aan land kwamen en ons vermoordden.\nHet viel mij thans in, dat het scheepsvolk, niet begrijpende wat er van\nhunne makkers en van de sloep geworden was, zeker binnen korten tijd in\nde andere boot aan land zou komen, om hen op te zoeken, en dat zij dan\nmisschien gewapend en met te groote overmagt voor ons zouden komen; dit\nmoest hij ook toestemmen.\nIk zeide hem daarop, dat het eerst wat ons te doen stond, was, een gat\nin de sloep, die op het strand stond, te maken, en er alles uit te\nnemen, zoodat zij onbruikbaar werd en geen zee kon bouwen. Diensvolgens\ngingen wij er heen, namen er de wapens uit en wat wij er verder in\nvonden, hetgeen bestond uit eene flesch brandewijn en eene met rum,\neenige scheepsbeschuiten, een kruidhoorn en een groot stuk suiker, in\neen zeildoekschen zak; het stuk suiker was vijf of zes pond zwaar; en\ndit alles was mij hoogst welkom, vooral de brandewijn en suiker, die ik\nsedert vele jaren niet geproefd had. Toen wij dit alles aan wal gebragt\nhadden (de riemen, mast, zeil en roer hadden wij, gelijk ik gezegd heb,\ner reeds vroeger uitgenomen), hakten wij een groot gat in den bodem,\nzoodat als zij in te groot getal voor ons kwamen, om hen te\novermeesteren, zij toch de boot niet konden medenemen.\nIk had er weinig gedachten op, dat wij in staat zouden zijn het schip te\nherwinnen; maar ik begreep, dat als zij vertrokken zonder de boot mede\nte nemen, het ons gemakkelijk zou vallen die weder in staat te brengen,\nom ons naar de benedenwinds eilanden te brengen, en onze vrienden, de\nSpanjaarden, onder weg op te nemen, want ik had hen niet vergeten.\nTerwijl wij aldus onze toebereidselen maakten, en met alle man de boot\nzoo hoog op het strand haalden, dat zij met hoog water niet weder vlot\nkon komen, en er bovendien een gat van onderen in gehakt hadden, te\ngroot om gemakkelijk te stoppen, en zaten te overdenken wat ons thans te\ndoen stond, hoorden wij van het schip een schot doen, en zagen het eene\nvlag hijschen, als een sein voor de boot om terug te keeren; maar er\nkwam geene boot opdagen, en zij deden verscheidene schoten en maakten\nandere seinen voor de boot.\nToen eindelijk al hun seinen en schieten vruchteloos bleef, en hun boot\nonbewegelijk bleef, zagen wij door mijn kijker hen eene andere boot\nuitzetten, en naar den wal roeijen, en wij bespeurden, toen deze\nnaderkwam, dat er niet minder dan tien man in waren, en dat deze\nvuurwapens bij zich hadden. Daar het schip bijkans twee mijlen van den\nwal aflag, hadden wij een goed gezigt van hen toen zij aankwamen, en wij\nkonden zelfs hunne gelaatstrekken duidelijk zien, omdat, daar het getij\nhen een weinig oostelijk medegesleept had, zij onder het strand\nheenroeiden, om op dezelfde plaats, waar de andere boot lag, te landen.\nHierdoor, zeide ik, konden wij hen duidelijk zien, en de kapitein, die\nal de personen en hun karakter kende, zeide, dat er drie brave knapen\nonder hen waren, die, hiervan was hij zeker, door de overigen door\nbedreigingen tot de zamenspanning gedwongen waren; maar dat de\nbootsman, die naar het scheen hun opperhoofd was, en al de overigen zoo\nslecht waren als het verdere scheepsvolk, en ongetwijfeld in hunnen\naanslag zouden volharden. Hij beefde van angst, dat zij voor ons te\nsterk zouden zijn.\nIk lachte er om, en zeide, dat menschen in onzen toestand boven de vrees\nverheven waren; dat aangezien schier elke bedenkelijke toestand beter\nwas dan die, waarin wij rekenen mogten te zijn, wij op bevrijding,\nhetzij dan levend of door den dood, behoorden bedacht te zijn. Ik vroeg\nhem wat hij van mijne lotgevallen dacht, en of hij niet meende, dat eene\nbevrijding wel verdiende, dat men er iets voor waagde. \"En waar,\" zeide\nik, \"blijft uw geloof, dat ik hier gespaard ben geworden, ten einde u\nhet leven te redden, hetwelk u kort geleden zoo veel moeds gaf? Wat mij\nbetreft, ik vind in dit alles slechts eene zwarigheid.\"--\"En welke is\ndie?\" vroeg hij.--\"Deze,\" antwoordde ik, \"dat er, gelijk gij mij gezegd\nhebt, drie of vier brave knapen onder hen zijn, die gespaard moeten\nworden; zoo zij allen tot het slechtste deel van het scheepsvolk behoord\nhadden, zou ik gedacht hebben, dat de Voorzienigheid hen uitgekozen had,\nom hen in uwe handen te leveren; want reken er op, dat ieder man, die\naan wal komt, in onze magt is, en leven of sterven zal, naar gelang hij\nzich gedraagt.\"\nToen ik dit met eene krachtige stem en opgeruimd gelaat zeide, bemerkte\nik, dat hij wat meer moed schepte, en dus gingen wij onverwijld aan het\nwerk. Zoodra wij de sloep van het schip hadden zien afsteken, hadden wij\nbesloten de gevangenen afgescheiden van elkander en in veilige bewaring\nte houden. Twee hunner, waarop de kapitein het minste staat maakte, zond\nik met Vrijdag en een der bevrijden naar mijne grot, waar zij goed\nbewaard waren, en buiten gevaar van gehoord of ontdekt te worden, of uit\nhet bosch den weg te vinden als zij zich wisten los te maken. Hier\nlieten zij hen gebonden achter, maar met levensmiddelen, en onder\nbelofte van, zoo zij zich stil hielden, binnen een dag of twee in\nvrijheid gesteld te worden, maar dat zoo zij poogden te ontsnappen, zij\nzonder genade ter dood gebragt zouden worden. Zij beloofden hunne\ngevangenschap geduldig te dragen, en waren zeer dankbaar, dat zij zulke\ngoede levensmiddelen en licht hadden, want Vrijdag had hun eenige\nkaarsen gegeven, en zij wisten niet beter of hij stond als schildwacht\naan den ingang.\nDe andere gevangenen werden beter behandeld; wel werden twee hunner\ngeboeid, omdat de kapitein hen niet vertrouwde, maar de beide anderen in\nmijne dienst genomen op zijne aanbeveling, en hunne plegtige belofte van\nmet ons te leven en te sterven, dus waren wij met hen zeven man sterk,\nen ik twijfelde niet of wij zouden tegen de tien, die er kwamen,\nopgewassen zijn; vooral daar de kapitein zeide, dat er onder deze ook\ndrie of vier brave knapen waren.\nZoodra zij aan de plaats kwamen, waar de andere sloep lag, liepen zij\nmet hunne boot op het strand, en kwamen allen aan wal, hetgeen mij zeer\nverheugde, want ik was bang, dat zij de boot op eenigen afstand, en met\neenig volk er in, om er op te passen, zouden gelegd hebben; wij hadden\nin dat geval de boot niet kunnen vermeesteren.\nHet eerst, dat zij, aan den wal gekomen, deden, was, dat zij naar de\nandere sloep gingen, en wij zagen, dat zij zeer verbaasd stonden van\nhaar zonder roer of riemen, en met een gat in den bodem terug te vinden.\nNa eenig nadenken begonnen zij uit alle magt te schreeuwen, ten einde\nhunne makkers hen zouden hooren, doch dit hielp niet, toen gingen zij\nallen bij elkander staan en gaven te gelijk vuur met hun klein geweer,\nzoodat het door het bosch weergalmde, doch dit was even vruchteloos; die\nin de grot waren konden het, dit wisten wij, niet hooren, en zij, die in\nonze bewaring waren, hoorden het wel zeer goed, maar durfden er geen\nantwoord op geven. Zij waren hierover zoo verbaasd, dat zij, gelijk zij\nnaderhand ons verhaalden, besloten dadelijk naar boord terug te keeren,\nen daar te berigten, dat al hunne makkers vermoord, en in de boot een\ngat gemaakt was, derhalve gingen zij allen weder in de boot en staken\nonmiddellijk af.\nDe kapitein was bij dit gezigt zeer ontsteld, daar hij geloofde, dat zij\nnaar boord terugkeeren en onder zeil zouden gaan, en hunne makkers als\nverongelukt beschouwen; en hij het schip verliezen zou, dat hij nog\nhoopte te herkrijgen; doch spoedig nam zijne ontsteltenis eene andere\nrigting.\nZij waren niet lang weg geweest of wij zagen hen terugkeeren, maar\nditmaal gingen zij anders te werk, gelijk zij naar het schijnt beraamd\nhadden, namelijk, zij lieten drie man in de boot, terwijl de anderen aan\nwal gingen en landwaarts in liepen om hunne makkers te zoeken. Dit was\nvoor ons eene groote teleurstelling, want nu wisten wij niet wat wij\ndoen zouden. Het zou ons niet gebaat hebben de zeven man, die aan land\nwaren, te vatten, zoo wij de overige lieten ontsnappen, die dan zeker\nnaar het schip roeijen zouden en onder zeil gaan, waardoor wij alle hoop\nzouden verliezen van het schip te hernemen.\nEr was echter niet aan te doen dan af te wachten, welken loop de zaken\nzouden nemen. De zeven matrozen stapten aan wal, en de drie, die in de\nboot bleven, roeiden haar op een goeden afstand van den wal af, en\ngingen daar voor anker liggen, om hen af te wachten, zoodat het ons\nonmogelijk was hen te bereiken. Degenen, die geland waren, bleven digt\nbijeen en klommen op den top van den heuvel, waar onder mijne woning\nlag, en wij zagen hen duidelijk, schoon zij ons niet konden gewaar\nworden. Wij zouden gaarne gezien hebben, dat zij digterbij waren\ngekomen, zoodat wij op hen hadden kunnen vuren, of verder weggegaan,\nzoodat wij naar buiten konden komen. Toen zij echter op den heuvel\ngeklommen waren, vanwaar zij een wijd uitzigt over de dalen en bosschen\nhadden, die aan de noord-oostzijde, en waar het eiland het laagste was,\nlagen, begonnen zij zoo hard te schreeuwen als zij konden, en daar zij,\nnaar het schijnt, het niet durfden wagen te ver van de kust te gaan, of\nzich in kleine partijen te verdeelen, gingen zij onder een boom zitten\nom te raadplegen. Zoo zij goedgevonden hadden daar te gaan slapen, zoo\nals de anderen gedaan hadden, zouden zij ons ligt werk gemaakt hebben;\nmaar zij vreesden te veel gevaar om te durven slapen, schoon zij niet\nwisten voor welk gevaar zij te vreezen hadden.\nTerwijl zij zaten te beraadslagen, deed de kapitein een zeer verstandig\nvoorstel. Hij begreep namelijk, dat zij weder allen te gelijk hunne\ngeweren zouden afvuren, ten einde hunne makkers dit zouden hooren, en\ndan stelde hij voor hen te overvallen, op het oogenblik, dat hun\nschietgeweer nog niet weder geladen was, wanneer zij zich waarschijnlijk\nzouden overgeven, en wij ons zonder bloedstorting van hen meester maken.\nIk stemde hierin toe, mits het gebeuren kon als wij digt genoeg bij hen\nwaren, om bij hen te zijn voor zij weder konden geladen hebben. Zij\ndeden dit echter niet, en wij lagen nog een langen tijd, zonder te weten\nwat wij zouden doen. Eindelijk zeide ik, dat naar mijn gevoelen er niets\nkon gedaan worden voor het avond was, en dat als zij dan niet naar hunne\nboot terugkeerden, wij misschien tusschen hen en het strand konden\nkomen, en door eene of andere list de matrozen in de boot aan land\nlokken.\nWij wachtten eene lange poos, zeer ongerust en zeer verlangend hen te\nzien vertrekken. Eindelijk zagen wij hen na eene lange beraadslaging,\nallen opstaan en naar het strand gaan. Het schijnt, dat zij zoo bevreesd\nwaren voor de gevaren van dit eiland, dat zij besloten hadden naar boord\nterug te keeren, hunne verloren makkers in de steek te laten en hunne\nvoorgenomen reis met het schip te vervolgen.\nZoodra ik hen naar het strand zag gaan, verbeeldde ik mij, gelijk het\nwaarlijk was, dat zij hunne nasporingen hadden opgegeven, en terug\nwilden keeren, en de kapitein wien ik mijn vermoeden mededeelde, bezweek\nschier van angst. Ik had echter thans eene krijgslist bedacht om hen\nterug te lokken, die mij volmaakt gelukte.\nIk gelastte Vrijdag en den stuurman, de kleine kreek westwaarts, waar de\nwilden met Vrijdag bij zich aan land waren gekomen, over te trekken, en\nzoodra zij op eene kleine hoogte op ongeveer een half kwartier uurs\nafstand gekomen waren, zoo hard te schreeuwen als zij konden, en te\nwachten of zij bespeurden, dat de matrozen hen hoorden, dat zoodra zij\ndezen hun hoorden antwoorden, zij weder moesten roepen, en dan steeds\nuit hun gezigt blijvende, in de rondte trekken, altijd op het geroep der\nanderen antwoordende, ten einde hen zoo ver landwaarts in en tusschen de\nbosschen te lokken, als mogelijk was, en dan weder op de wijze als ik\nhun voorschreef, tot mij terug keeren.\nZij gingen juist in de boot toen Vrijdag en de stuurman begonnen te\nroepen. Zij hoorden en antwoordden hen en liepen westwaarts het strand\nlangs, op de stemmen af, die zij gehoord hadden. Hier stuitten zij op de\nkreek, waar zij, daar het hoog water was, niet over konden, en de\nmatrozen in de boot riepen om bij hen te komen en hen over te zetten,\ngelijk ik vermoed had.\nNadat deze hen overgezet hadden, zag ik, dat zij de boot een goed eind\nweegs in de kreek, en dus als het ware in een haven gelegd hadden; zij\nnamen dan ook een van de drie man er uit met hen mede, en lieten er\nslechts twee in de boot, die zij met een touw aan den stam van een boom\nhadden vastgemaakt.\nDit was juist wat ik verlangde, en terwijl ik Vrijdag en den stuurman\naan hunne taak liet, nam ik de overigen mede, en na de kreek buiten hun\ngezigt overgetrokken te zijn, verrasten wij de twee man, waarvan een op\nhet strand en een in de boot zat, voor zij ons bemerkt hadden. Die aan\nden wal was half slapende, en wilde juist opspringen, toen de kapitein,\ndie de voorste was hem nedervelde, en daarop den matroos in de boot\ngelastte zich over te geven als hij zijn leven lief had. Er was weinig\naandrang noodig om den man te bewegen zich over te geven, toen hij zijn\nmakker geveld, en vijf lieden voor zich zag; bovendien was dit, naar het\nschijnt, een van de drie, die niet zoo ijverig als de overigen in de\nmuiterij had deel genomen, en derhalve werd hij niet alleen gemakkelijk\noverreed om zich over te geven, maar later ook om gemeene zaak met ons\nte maken.\nMiddelerwijl hadden Vrijdag en den stuurman zich zoowel van hunne taak\ngekweten, dat zij de matrozen door hun geroep van den eenen heuvel naar\nden anderen, en van het eene boschje in het andere gelokt hadden, totdat\nzij hen niet alleen verschrikkelijk afgemat, maar ook verlaten hadden\nmet de zekerheid, dat zij voor den donker den weg niet naar de boot\nzouden kunnen terugvinden, en zij zelven waren geheel afgemat toen zij\nbij ons terugkwamen. Wij hadden nu niets anders te doen dan hen in het\nduister te bespieden en te overvallen, om ligt werk met hen te hebben.\nVerscheidene uren, nadat Vrijdag bij mij teruggekomen was, kwamen zij\nweder bij hunne boot, en lang voor zij bij ons waren, hoorden wij de\nvoorsten de achtersten van hen toeroepen: toch spoed te maken, en wij\nhoorden de laatsten antwoorden, en klagen hoe zij lam van vermoeijenis\nwaren en niet harder voort konden, hetgeen voor ons eene aangename\ntijding was. Eindelijk kwamen zij aan de boot, maar onmogelijk is het\nhunne verbijstering te beschrijven, toen zij de boot vast zitten, het\nwater afgeloopen en hunne twee makkers verdwenen vonden. Wij hoorden hoe\nzij elkander op den klagendsten toon toeschreeuwden, dat zij op een\nbetooverd eiland waren, dat er of inwoners op waren, die hen allen\nzouden vermoorden, of dat het door duivels of helsche geesten bewoond\nwas, die hen verscheuren of naar de hel slepen zouden.\nZij begonnen weder te schreeuwen en hunne makkers herhaalde malen bij\nhunnen naam te roepen. Na eenigen tijd konden wij hen bij het weinige\nlicht, dat er was, als wanhopigen en de handen wringende, heen en weder\nzien loopen; somwijlen gingen zij om wat te rusten in de boot zitten,\ndan weder sprongen zij op den wal en liepen heen en weder, en zoo\ntelkens weder.\nMijn volk had gaarne verlof van mij willen hebben, om hen in het duister\nte overvallen; maar ik wilde er zooveel van sparen, en zoo weinig van\ndoodschieten als mogelijk, en vooral wilde ik niet gaarne een van ons\nvolk aan het gevaar blootstellen van een kogel van hen te ontvangen;\ndaar ik wist, dat zij zeer goed gewapend waren. Ik besloot af te wachten\nof zij zich niet zouden verdeelen, en om derhalve te beter de overmagt\nop hen te hebben, liet ik mijne hinderlaag naderbij rukken, en gelastte\nVrijdag en den kapitein op handen en voeten, en zoo digt langs den grond\nals zij konden, naar hen toe te kruipen en hen zoo digt mogelijk te\nnaderen, alvorens zij vuur gaven. Niet lang waren zij in die houding\ngebleven of de bootsman, die de voornaamste belhamel van de muiterij was\ngeweest, en die zich van allen het snoodst en laaghartigst gedragen had,\nkwam met nog twee van het volk naar hen toe. De kapitein werd woedend,\ntoen hij den voornaamsten aanlegger zoo digt onder zijn bereik zag, dat\nhij zich naauwelijks tijd gunde om hem zoo digt te laten naderen, dat\nhij zeker van hem was, want hij had nog alleen zijne stem gehoord; maar\ntoen zij naderkwamen sprongen de kapitein en Vrijdag op de been en gaven\nvuur op hen. De bootsman viel dood neder; de man, die bij hem was, had\neen kogel in het lijf gekregen en viel naast hem, schoon hij eerst een\npaar uur daarna stierf, en de derde liep weg.\nToen ik het vuren hoorde, rukte ik onmiddellijk met mijn geheele leger\nop, dat thans uit acht man bestond, te weten, ik als generaal en chef,\nVrijdag als mijn luitenant-generaal; de kapitein en zijne twee lieden,\nen de drie gevangenen, dien wij wapens hadden toevertrouwd. Wij\novervielen hen in het duister, zoodat zij ons getal niet zien konden,\nen ik liet den man, dien zij in de boot hadden achtergelaten, en nu tot\nonze partij behoorde, hen bij hunne namen noemen, om te trachten met hen\ntot onderhandeling te komen, hetgeen volkomen naar wensch uitviel. Zoo\nriep hij, zoo hard hij kon, tot een hunner: \"Thomas Smith! Thomas Smith!\nThomas Smith!\"--Thomas Smith antwoordde dadelijk: \"Wie is daar, is het\nRobinson?\" want hij scheen de stem te herkennen. De ander Antwoordde:\n\"Ja, ja, om Gods wil, leg de wapens neder, Thomas Smith, en geef u over,\nof gij zijt allen kinderen des doods!\"\n\"Aan wie moeten wij ons overgeven? Waar zijn zij?\" riep Thomas Smith\nweder. \"Hier zijn zij,\" antwoordde de ander. \"Hier is onze kapitein met\nvijftig man, die u twee uren lang heeft nagezeten. De bootsman is\ndoodgeschoten, Willem Frije gewond en ik gevangen, en zoo gij u niet\novergeeft, zijt gij allen verloren.\"\n\"Zal men ons dan kwartier geven als wij ons overgeven?\" vroeg Thomas\nSmith. \"Ik zal heengaan en het vragen, als gij belooft u over te geven,\"\nzeide Robinson. Hij vroeg het den kapitein, en deze riep: \"Thomas Smith,\ngij kent mijne stem, zoo gij dadelijk de wapens nederlegt en u\novergeeft, zal u allen het leven geschonken worden, behalve aan Willem\nAtkins.\"--Dit hoorende, begon Willem Atkins te roepen: \"Om Gods wil,\nkapitein, geef mij kwartier. Wat heb ik misdreven? Zij zijn allen even\nslecht geweest als ik,\" hetwelk eigenlijk niet waar was, want het\nschijnt, dat Willem Atkins de eerste was geweest, die de hand aan den\nkapitein had durven slaan, en hem ruw behandeld, de handen gebonden, en\nuitgescholden had. Echter zeide de kapitein hem, dat hij zich op genade\nof ongenade moest overgeven, en op de genade van den gouverneur hopen,\nwaarmede hij mij meende, want allen noemden mij gouverneur.\nOm kort te gaan, allen legden de wapens neder en smeekten om\nlijfsgenade, en ik zond den man, die met hen gesproken had, met nog twee\naf, die hen allen bonden; en toen rukte mijn leger van vijftig man op,\nmaar dat met die drie eigenlijk uit acht man bestond, en maakte zich van\nhen en van hunne boot meester, schoon ik mij met nog een man, uit\nstaatkundige redenen, buiten gezigt hield.\nOns eerste werk was thans de boot weder in orde te brengen, en te denken\nom de herovering van het schip, en de kapitein, die nu den tijd had om\nmet hen te onderhandelen, haalde hen scherp door over hun schelmsch\ngedrag jegens hem, en vervolgens over hunne verdere snoode oogmerken, en\nhoe dit alles op het laatst hen gewis tot ellende en armoede en\nmisschien tot de galg moest leiden. Zij schenen allen vol berouw en\nsmeekten ootmoedig om genade. Hierop zeide hij, dat zij niet zijn\ngevangenen, maar van den kommandant van het eiland waren; dat zij\ngedacht hadden hen in een woest onbewoond eiland aan wal te zetten, maar\ndat het God behaagd had dit anders te beschikken, dat het eiland bewoond\nen de gouverneur een Engelschman was; dat hij hen allen kon ophangen als\nhij het goed vond; maar dat, daar hij hun allen lijfsgenade geschonken\nhad, hij begreep, dat hij hen naar Engeland zou zenden om daar aan de\njustitie overgeleverd te worden; behalve Atkins, dat de gouverneur hem\ngelast had dezen aan te zeggen, dat hij zich ter dood moest bereiden,\nwant dat hij met den morgenstond zou opgehangen worden.\nSchoon dit alles slechts een verdichtsel van hem was, had het echter de\ngewenschte uitwerking, Atkins viel op zijne knie\u00ebn om des kapiteins\nvoorspraak bij den gouverneur om zijn leven, en al de overigen smeekten\nhem, om Gods wil, niet naar Engeland gezonden te worden.\nThans begreep ik, dat het tijdstip onzer bevrijding naderde, en dat het\ngemakkelijk zou zijn, deze knapen tot een aanslag op het schip over te\nhalen. Dus sloop ik in het duister vandaar weg, opdat zij niet zien\nzouden wat slag van een gouverneur zij hadden, en ontbood den kapitein\ntot mij. Toen ik op een afstand was, werd een der mannen bevolen als\nvoren te spreken, en te zeggen: \"kapitein, de kommandant laat u roepen!\"\nDe kapitein antwoordde: \"zeg aan zijne excellentie, dat ik\noogenblikkelijk kom.\" Dit bragt hen geheel in den waan, dat ik met mijne\nvijftig man vlak in de nabijheid stond. Toen de kapitein bij mij kwam,\ndeelde ik hem mijn ontwerp om het schip te overmeesteren mede, waarmede\nhij van harten instemde, en wij besloten het den volgenden morgen ten\nuitvoer te brengen. Ten einde het echter te geruster en goed doordacht\nte verrigten, zeide ik hem, dat wij de gevangenen moesten verdeelen, en\ndat hij Atkins en nog twee van de ergsten gebonden naar de grot moest\nlaten brengen. Dit werd aan Vrijdag en de twee mannen, die met den\nkapitein aan wal gekomen waren, toevertrouwd. Zij bragten hen naar de\ngrot, alsof dit de gevangenis was, en werkelijk was het eene treurige\nplaats, vooral voor lieden in hunnen toestand.\nDe anderen liet ik naar mijne buitenplaats brengen, die ik hiervoor\nuitvoerig genoeg beschreven heb, en daar deze omheind en zij gekneveld\nwaren, was de plaats sterk genoeg om hen te bewaren. Naar deze zond ik\nin den ochtend den kapitein om met hen in onderhandeling te treden,\nnamelijk hen te toetsen en mij te zeggen, of hij het geraden achtte hen\nmede naar boord te nemen om het schip te verrassen. Hij sprak hen aan\nover hunne handelwijze jegens hem, den toestand, waarin zij zich gebragt\nhadden, en zeide, dat schoon de gouverneur hen allen voor het oogenblik,\nlijfsgenade geschonken had, zij allen naar Engeland gevoerd en daar\nongetwijfeld in ketens opgehangen zouden worden; maar, dat als zij mede\nwilden werken tot het heroveren van het schip, hij den gouverneur zou\noverhalen hun pardon te geven.\nIedereen kan begrijpen, hoe gretig menschen in hunnen toestand zulk een\nvoorstel aannemen, zij vielen voor den kapitein op de knie\u00ebn, en\nbeloofden hem met de krachtigste betuigingen, dat zij hem tot den\nlaatsten druppel bloeds zouden bijstaan, hun leven lang hem zouden\ndankbaar zijn en hem door de geheele wereld volgen, en zoolang zij\nleefden zijn gedrag als dat van eenen vader jegens hen beschouwen.\n\"Nu,\" zeide de kapitein, \"ik zal den gouverneur mededeelen, wat gij\nzegt, en zien wat ik doen kan, om hem over te halen.\" Hij verhaalde mij\ndaarop hunne gemoedsgesteldheid, en dat hij geloofde, dat zij inderdaad\ngetrouw zouden zijn. Om echter zeker te gaan, zeide ik hem, dat hij\nterugkeeren zou en vijf van hen uitkiezen, en zeggen, dat zij zien\nzouden, dat wij hunne hulp niet noodig hadden; maar dat hij deze vijf\nzou medenemen om hem bij te staan, en dat de gouverneur de andere twee\nbenevens de drie, die als gevangenen naar het kasteel (mijne grot)\ngezonden waren, als gijzelaars zou houden, en dat zoo zij hunnen pligt\nniet getrouw volbragten, deze vijf gijzelaars allen in ketens op het\nstrand zouden opgehangen worden.--Dit zag er ernstig uit, en overtuigde\nhen, dat de gouverneur het ernstig meende; er schoot hun echter niet\nanders over dan het aan te nemen, en het was thans evenzeer het belang\nvan de achterblijvende gevangenen als van den kapitein, de anderen te\noverreden, zich trouw van hunnen pligt te kwijten.\nOnze strijdmagt voor den kapitein werd thans geregeld als volgt:\nEerstelijk de kapitein, zijn stuurman en de passagier. Dan de twee\ngevangenen van den eersten troep, dien ik op aanbeveling van den\nkapitein, hunne vrijheid gegeven, en wien ik wapens toevertrouwd had.\nTen derde, de andere twee, die ik tot nu toe in mijne buitenplaats\nbewaard, maar op des kapiteins verzoek ontslagen had. Ten vierde, de\nvijf die het laatst ontslagen waren, zoodat zij in alles met hun\ntwaalven waren, behalve vijf, die wij als gijzelaars in de grot hadden\nachtergehouden. Ik vroeg den kapitein of hij met dit volk het durfde\nwagen het schip te enteren, want dat ik het best oordeelde, dat ik en\nmijn knecht Vrijdag niet medegingen, omdat zij zeven man hier\nachterlieten en wij genoeg te doen hadden met hen gescheiden te houden\nen van levensmiddelen te voorzien. Wat aangaat de vijf man in de grot,\nik besloot hen daar te houden, en Vrijdag ging tweemaal des daags hun\nlevensmiddelen brengen. De twee andere gevangenen droegen de leeftogt\neen eind weegs en dan nam Vrijdag ze hen af.\nToen ik mij aan de twee gijzelaars vertoonde, was ik vergezeld van den\nkapitein, die hun zeide, dat ik afgezonden was door den gouverneur, en\ndat deze gelast had, dat zij niets zouden doen zonder mijn bevel, en zoo\nzij dit bevel overtraden, zouden zij naar het kasteel gebragt en daar in\nde boeijen geslagen worden. Daar ik als gouverneur nimmer voor den dag\nwas gekomen, verscheen ik nu als een ander persoon, en sprak waar het te\npas kwam van den gouverneur, van de bezetting, het kasteel en\ndergelijke.\nDe kapitein had nu niet anders te doen dan zijne booten gereed te maken,\nhet lek in de eene te stoppen, en ze te bemannen. Hij gaf zijn passagier\nhet bevel over de eene boot met vier man, en ging zelf met zijn stuurman\nen de vijf overigen in de andere. Zij overlegden hunne zaak goed, zoodat\nzij tegen middernacht aan boord kwamen. Zoodra zij digtbij genoeg waren,\ndeed hij Robinson het scheepsvolk toeroepen en hem zeggen, dat zij het\nvolk in de sloep terugbragten, maar dat het lang geduurd had, eer zij\nhen hadden kunnen vinden. Aldus hield hij hen aan de praat, totdat zij\naan boord kwamen, waarop de kapitein en zijn stuurman, die het eerst met\nhunne wapens op het dek gesprongen waren, dadelijk den tweeden stuurman\nen den timmerman met de kolf van hunne geweren nedervelden, terwijl hun\nvolk hen dapper bijstond. De overigen, die op het halfdek en den bak\nwaren, maakten zij gevangen, en gingen de luiken digt maken, om hen, die\nbeneden waren, daar te houden, toen het volk van de andere boot over de\nfokkerusten klom, en het voorschip en de kombuis, waarin drie man waren,\nvermeesterden.\nToen dit afgeloopen was, gelastte de kapitein den stuurman met drie man\nde kajuit open te breken, waar de nieuwe kapitein lag, die het alarm\ngehoord had, en met twee man en een jongen zich van vuurwapens voorzien\nhad; en toen de stuurman met een koevoet de deur opengebroken had, gaf\nde nieuwe kapitein met zijne makkers vuur op hen en wondde den stuurman\nin zijn arm met nog twee man, doch niemand werd er gedood.\nDe stuurman riep om hulp doch drong te gelijk de kajuit binnen, zoo\ngewond als hij was, en schoot met een pistool den nieuwen kapitein dwars\ndoor de keel, zoodat de kogel zijn mond inging, achter het oor weder\nuitkwam en hij zonder een woord te uiten, dood nederviel, waarop de\nanderen zich overgaven en het schip zonder meer bloedvergieten hernomen\nwas. Zoodra de kapitein weder meester van zijn schip was, liet hij\nzeven schoten doen, welk sein hij met mij afgesproken had, om mij van\nden goeden uitslag te verwittigen. Men kan denken of ik verheugd was dit\nte hooren, daar ik tot bijkans twee uren in den morgen er op had zitten\nwachten.\nNa het sein gehoord te hebben, begaf ik mij te rust, en daar ik dien dag\nvele vermoeijenissen had doorgestaan, sliep ik zeer vast tot ik door een\ngeweerschot gewekt werd, en op de been springende, hoorde ik iemand mij\nroepen: \"gouverneur! gouverneur!\" en herkende de stem van den kapitein,\ndie den heuvel opgeklommen, op het schip wees. Hij drukte mij in zijne\narmen. \"Mijn waarde vriend en redder,\" zeide hij, \"daar ligt uw schip,\nwant het is geheel ter uwer beschikking, even als wij en al wat tot het\nschip behoort.\" Ik sloeg mijne oogen op het schip, dat op ongeveer eene\nhalve (Eng.) mijl van het strand voor anker lag; want zoodra zij het\nvermeesterd hadden, hadden zij het anker geligt, en daar het fraai weder\nwas het vlak voor den mond van eene kleine kreek gelegd, en daar het\nhoog water was, was de kapitein met de pinnas tot bij de plaats\ngekomen, waar ik het eerst mijne vlotten aan land gebragt had, en dus\nals het ware vlak voor mijne deur geland.\nIk dacht in den beginne van verrassing door den grond te zinken, want nu\nzag ik inderdaad mijne redding zigtbaar voor oogen, alles was in orde,\nen een goed schip gereed mij te brengen, waarheen ik verlangde. Eerst\nwas ik eenigen tijd niet in staat een woord te antwoorden, maar daar hij\nmij in zijne armen gesloten had, hield ik mij aan hem vast, want ik was\nbang van op den grond neder te zijgen. Hij bespeurde mijne verrassing en\neene flesch uit zijn zak halende, gaf hij mij dadelijk een hartsterking,\ndie hij opzettelijk voor mij had medegebragt. Na gedronken te hebben,\nging ik op den grond zitten, en schoon ik weder tot mijzelven was\ngekomen, duurde het nog eene geruime poos voor ik een woord tot hem\nspreken kon. Al dien tijd was de arme man even verrukt als ik, schoon\nniet zoo van verrassing; echter zeide hij mij duizend dingen om mij tot\nbedaren te brengen; maar mijn hart was zoo vervuld van vreugde, dat mijn\ngeest geheel verbijsterd was; eindelijk barstte ik in een vloed van\ntranen uit, en kort daarop was ik weder in staat te spreken.\nToen omhelsde ik hem op mijne beurt als mijn bevrijder, en onze vreugde\nwas wederkeerig. Ik zeide, dat ik hem als iemand beschouwde, dien de\nhemel ter mijner redding gezonden had, en dat al wat er gebeurd was,\neene reeks van wonderen scheen; dat zulke dingen een blijk van het\nonzigtbaar wereldbestier der Voorzienigheid waren, en een bewijs, dat de\noogen van den Almagtige tot in de afgelegenste schuilhoeken der aarde\ndoordringen, en de ongelukkigen te hulp kwamen als het zijne wijsheid\nbehaagde.\nIk vergat niet mijn hart dankbaar hemelwaarts te verheffen, en welk hart\nkon nalaten Hem te danken, die niet alleen iemand wonderdadig in de\nwildernis verzorgd had, en in zulk een jammerlijken verlaten toestand,\nmaar van wien altijd elke redding erkend moet worden afkomstig te zijn?\nNa eene poos gesproken te hebben verhaalde de kapitein mij, dat hij\neenige ververschingen, die hij aan boord had, en waarvan de schelmen,\ndie er eenigen tijd meester van waren geweest, hem niet beroofd hadden,\nvoor mij had medegebragt. Daarna riep hij het bootsvolk toe, dat zij de\npresenten voor den Gouverneur aan den wal zouden brengen; en inderdaad\nwaren het geschenken, die voor een Gouverneur voegden, en alsof ik niet\nmet hen zou medereizen, maar op het eiland blijven wonen, en zij zonder\nmij vertrekken.\nEerstelijk had hij mij eene flesschenkelder met uitmuntende likeuren,\nzes groote flesschen, ieder van twee pinten, maderawijn, twee pond\nbesten tabak, twaalf stukken ossenvleesch, en zes stukken spek, met een\nzak erwten en een honderd pond beschuit medegebragt.\nWijders bragt hij mij een kistje met suiker, een kistje met fijn meel,\neen kistje met limmetjes en twee flesschen citroensap mede, benevens\neene menigte andere dingen. Maar bovendien bragt hij, hetgeen mij\nduizendmaal nuttiger was, mij zes schoone, nieuwe hemden, zes zeer goede\nhalsdoeken, twee paar handschoenen, een paar schoenen, een hoed en een\nzeer goeden broek van hem zelven, met \u00e9\u00e9n woord, hij stak mij van top\ntot teen in de kleeren. Dit was voor iemand in mijne omstandigheden een\nzeer aangenaam geschenk, gelijk men ligt denken kan, maar nimmer viel\neen ding in de wereld mij zoo onaangenaam en ongemakkelijk, of ging mij\nzoo linksch af, als het dragen van die kleederen, toen ik ze pas\naangetrokken had.\nNadat dit afgeloopen en al de goederen in mijn klein verblijf gebragt\nwaren, begonnen wij raad te plegen, wat met onze gevangenen te doen;\nwant het was eene zaak van rijp overleg, of wij het wagen zouden hen\nmede te nemen, of niet, vooral een paar van hen, die in den hoogsten\ngraad onverbeterlijk en muitziek waren; en die de kapitein zeide, als\nzulke schelmen te kennen, dat er geen goed aan te doen was, en dat als\nhij ze me\u00eanam, dit in de boeijen moest zijn, om ze in de eerste\nEngelsche kolonie, daar hij binnen vallen kon, aan de regtbank over te\ngeven. Hiervan vond ik, dat de kapitein niet af te brengen was.\nHierop zeide ik, dat, als hij het verlangde, ik op mij nam de twee\nkerels zoo ver te brengen, dat zij zelfs verzoeken zouden op het\neiland te mogen blijven. \"Met al mijn hart,\" zeide de kapitein; \"niets\nzou mij aangenamer zijn.\"\n\"Goed,\" zeide ik, \"ik zal hen laten halen en in uw bijzijn met hen\nspreken.\" Ik zond dus Vrijdag en de twee gijzelaars, die thans, omdat\nhunne kameraden hun woord hadden gehouden, losgelaten waren, naar de\ngrot, en liet hen de vijf man, zoo gebonden als zij waren, naar mijn\npri\u00ebel brengen. Eenigen tijd daarna kwam ik daar in mijn nieuw gewaad\naanstappen, en heette nu weder Gouverneur. Toen de kapitein bij mij was,\nliet ik het volk voor mij brengen, en zeide hun thans een volledig\nverslag van hunne schelmsche handelwijze van den kapitein ontvangen te\nhebben, en hoe zij met het schip hadden willen vertrekken, en verdere\nrooverijen bedrijven, maar dat de Voorzienigheid hen in den kuil had\ndoen vallen, dien zij voor anderen gegraven hadden. Ik zeide hun, dat\nmen op mijn bevel zich van het schip verzekerd had, dat nu op de reede\nlag, en dat zij zien konden hoe hun nieuwe kapitein de belooning voor\nzijn verraderij had bekomen, want dat zij hem aan den nok van de ra\nkonden zien hangen. Dat ik thans verlangde te weten of zij iets hadden\nbij te brengen, waarom ik hen niet, als zeeroovers, op heeterdaad\nbetrapt, ter dood zou doen brengen, waartoe mijne aanstelling mij\nontwijfelbaar regt gaf.\nEen hunner antwoordde voor de overigen, dat zij niets hadden bij te\nbrengen, dan alleen, dat de kapitein, toen zij gevangen genomen waren,\nhun lijfsbehoud had toegezegd, en dat zij mijne barmhartigheid inriepen.\nIk zeide echter, dat ik niet wist, welke barmhartigheid ik hun zou\nbewijzen, daar ik besloten had met al mijn volk het eiland te verlaten,\nen met den kapitein den overtogt naar Engeland te doen. De kapitein kon\nhen niet anders naar Engeland medenemen dan als gevangenen in de ijzers,\nom daar wegens muiterij en zeeroof teregt te staan; waarvan, gelijk zij\nwisten, de galg het einde zou zijn, zoodat ik hun niet zeggen kon wat\nvoor hen het best was, ten ware zij besloten hadden hun lot op het\neiland te beproeven, hetgeen mij, daar ik verlof had het te verlaten,\nonverschillig was, en dat ik niet ongeneigd was hun het leven te\nschenken, als zij begrepen, dat zij zich aan den wal zouden kunnen\nredden. Hiervoor schenen zij zeer dankbaar te zijn, en verklaarden veel\nliever hier te willen blijven dan naar Engeland te gaan, om daar\nopgehangen te worden; dus liet ik het daarbij berusten. De kapitein\nmaakte echter eenige tegenwerpingen, alsof hij hen daar niet mogt\nachterlaten. Ik hield mij hierop zeer boos, en zeide den kapitein, dat\nzij mijne gevangenen en niet de zijne waren, en dat ik, na hun deze\ngunst beloofd te hebben, mijn woord zou houden, en als hij er iets tegen\nhad, hij maar zien moest, dat hij hen weder in zijne magt kreeg, als hij\nkon.\nZij schenen hiervoor zeer dankbaar, en ik stelde hen in vrijheid, met\nlast het bosch in te gaan, vanwaar zij gekomen waren, en de belofte van\neenige geweren en kruid en lood, benevens aanwijzingen hoe zij, als zij\nwilden, hier een zeer goed leven konden leiden. Vervolgens maakte ik mij\ngereed aan boord te gaan, maar zeide den kapitein, dat ik dien nacht aan\nwal zou blijven, om mijne goederen gereed te maken, maar dat hij\nmiddelerwijl het schip in orde brengen en den volgenden morgen de boot\nnaar den wal zenden zou om mij te halen; terwijl ik hem tevens gelastte\nden nieuwen kapitein, die doodgeschoten was, aan den nok van de ra te\nlaten hangen, opdat het volk hier hem zou kunnen zien.\nToen de kapitein vertrokken was, liet ik de matrozen bij mij in mijn\nverblijf komen, en hield een ernstig gesprek met hen over hunnen\ntoestand. Ik zeide, dat hunne keus zeer verstandig was, want dat, zoo de\nkapitein hen medenam, zij zeker zouden opgehangen worden. Ik wees hun\nhun vorigen aanvoerder, die aan den nok van de ra hing, en zeide, dat\nzij niets minder te wachten hadden. Toen zij allen verklaard hadden te\nwillen achterblijven, zeide ik hun, hun mijn geheelen levensloop aldaar\nte zullen verhalen, en te dien einde verhaalde ik hun hoe het eiland\nwas, hoe ik er gekomen was; toonde hun mijne verschansingen, hoe ik er\nmijn brood gebakken, mijn koorn geplant, mijne druiven gedroogd had, in\neen woord, al wat hun van nut kon zijn. Ook verhaalde ik hun van de\nzestien Spanjaarden, die verwacht werden, voor welke ik een brief\nachterliet, en die ik hen deed beloven, als hunne makkers te zullen\nbehandelen.\nIk liet hun mijne wapenen, namelijk vijf musketten, drie jagtgeweren en\ntwee sabels achter. Ik had nog anderhalf vat buskruid, want na het\neerste jaar of twee had ik er weinig van gebruikt, en niets van\nverspild. Ik beschreef hun hoe ik de geiten behandelde, hoe zij gemolken\nen verzorgd moesten worden, om er boter en kaas van te erlangen. Kortom,\nik verhaalde hun al mijn wedervaren, en beloofde den kapitein te zullen\noverhalen hun nog twee vaatjes kruid en wat tuinzaden achter te laten;\nook gaf ik hun den zak met erwten, die de kapitein medegebragt had, en\nnoodigde hen uit die te zaaijen.\nNa den afloop hiervan verliet ik hun den volgenden dag en ging aan\nboord. Wij maakten ons zeilree, maar bleven dien nacht voor anker\nliggen. Den volgenden morgen vroeg kwamen twee man van de vijf aan boord\nzwemmen, en terwijl zij allerbitterst over de andere drie klaagden,\nsmeekten zij dat men hen, om Gods wil, aan boord zou nemen, want dat zij\nvermoord zouden worden; en of de kapitein hen aan bood wilde laten\nkomen, al liet hij hen ook dadelijk ophangen. De kapitein beweerde\nhierop, dat hij buiten mij niets doen kon, maar na eenige bedenkingen en\nop hunne plegtige beloften van beterschap werden zij aan boord genomen,\nen eene poos daarna duchtig afgestraft; vervolgens zijn zij steeds\nrustige en knappe kerels gebleven.\nWat later ging ik met den vloed naar den wal, om den matrozen het hun\nbeloofde te brengen, waarbij de kapitein door mijne bemiddeling hunne\nkleederen en kisten gevoegd had, waarvoor zij zeer dankbaar waren. Ik\nmoedigde hen wat aan door de verzekering, dat als ik eenig vaartuig\nontmoette dat het eiland kon aandoen en hen innemen, ik hen niet\nvergeten zou.\nToen ik het eiland verliet, nam ik tot eene gedachtenis, de groote\ngeitenvellen muts, mijn zonnescherm en een mijne papegaaijen mede; ook\nvergat ik het geld niet, waarvan ik vroeger gesproken heb, en dat zoo\nlang stil had gelegen, dat het roestig of zwart geworden was, en\nnaauwelijks voor zilver kon doorgaan, voor het wat gewreven en\ngehanteerd was geworden, alsook het geld, dat ik op het Spaansche wrak\nhad gevonden.\nAldus verliet ik het eiland, gelijk ik op het scheepsjournaal zag, den\n19 December 1686, nadat ik er achtentwintig jaren, twee maanden en\nnegentien dagen op had doorgebragt, terwijl ik mijne ballingschap\nverliet op denzelfden dag der maand, waarop ik van de Mooren te Sal\u00e9\nwegvlugtte. Na een lange reis kwam ik den 11 Junij 1687 in Engeland aan,\nwaarvan ik vijfendertig jaren afwezig was geweest. Toen ik daar kwam,\nstond ik in de wereld als een vreemdeling, die er nimmer geweest was.\nMijne weldoenster, wie ik mijn geld had achtergelaten, was nog in leven,\nmaar had veel tegenspoeden gehad, was ten tweedenmale weduwe en in zeer\nbehoeftige omstandigheden. Ik stelde haar omtrent mijne schuldbekentenis\ngerust, en verzekerde, dat ik haar niet lastig zou vallen, maar\nintegendeel uit dankbaarheid voor hare vroegere zorgen voor mij,\nondersteunde ik haar zooveel mijne geringe bezittingen toelieten,\nhetgeen op dit oogenblik slechts weinig was, doch ik verzekerde haar,\ndat ik haar niet zou vergeten als ik in staat zou zijn haar krachtiger\nte helpen, gelijk ik ook later deed.\nIk ging daarop naar Yorkshire, maar mijne ouders vond ik overleden, en\nmijne geheele familie uitgestorven, op twee zusters na, en twee kinderen\nvan een mijner broeders, en daar men mij lang voor dood gehouden had,\nhad men mij niets nagelaten; kortom ik begreep, dat ik geenerlei\nondersteuning te wachten had en dat het weinige geld dat ik had, mij\nweinig baten zou om door de wereld te komen. Echter ondervond ik een\nstaaltje van dankbaarheid, dat ik niet verwacht had; de kapitein van het\nschip, dien ik zoo gelukkig gered, en daardoor schip en lading behouden\nhad, had van al het gebeurde een trouw verslag aan zijne reeders gedaan.\nDeze verzochten mij hun een bezoek te geven; allen overlaadden mij met\nloftuitingen, en boden mij een geschenk van tweehonderd pond Sterling\naan.\nDoch na rijp beraad, en ziende hoe moeijelijk ik mij hiermede een\nbestaan zou verschaffen, besloot ik naar Lissabon te gaan, om te\ntrachten iets nopens mijne plantaadje in Brazili\u00eb te vernemen, en wat er\nvan mijn compagnon was geworden, die ik onderstelde dat mij thans\nverscheidene jaren voor dood had gehouden. Ten dien einde scheepte ik\nmij in naar Lissabon, waar ik in April aankwam, terwijl Vrijdag mij\ntrouw volgde, en steeds bewees mijn trouwe dienaar te zijn. Toen ik te\nLissabon kwam, vond ik na eenige navraag, en tot mijn groot genoegen\nmijn ouden vriend, den kapitein van het schip, die mij het eerst op de\nAfrikaansche kust aan boord had genomen. Hij was nu oud geworden; had de\nzee vaarwel gezegd, en zijn zoon, die nu ook reeds een bejaard man was,\nvoer thans in zijne plaats op Brazili\u00eb. De oude man kende mij niet meer,\nen ik zou hem ook moeijelijk herkend hebben, echter herinnerde hij zich\nspoedig mijner, toen ik hem verhaalde wie ik was.\nNa onze oude kennis met hartelijkheid vernieuwd te hebben, vroeg ik,\ngelijk men wel denken kan, naar mijne plantaadje en mijn compagnon. De\noude man verhaalde mij, dat hij thans in geen negen jaren in Brazili\u00eb\nwas geweest, maar hij kon mij verzekeren, dat de laatste maal dat hij\ndaar was, mijn compagnon nog leefde, maar de beide gevolmagtigden, die\nmet hem toezigt zouden houden, waren beide overleden. Hij geloofde\nechter, dat ik goed zou staan bij de verbetering mijner plantaadje, want\ndat, daar men algemeen geloofde dat ik verongelukt was, mijne\ngemagtigden hunne rekening van mijn deel in de plantaadje aan den\nfiscaal hadden ingeleverd, die, zoo ik niet terug mogt komen, verklaard\nhad dat een derde den koning, en twee derden aan het Augustijner\nklooster zouden toevallen, voor de armen en tot uitbreiding van het\nChristendom onder de Indianen. Zoo ik of iemand van mijnentwege echter\nopkwam, zou het mij teruggegeven worden, hoewel de jaarlijksche\nopbrengst niet, als zijnde tot werken van liefdadigheid besteed, maar\nhij verzekerde mij, dat de opzigter der koninklijke inkomsten van\nlanderijen, en die van het klooster er voor gezorgd hadden, dat mijn\ncompagnon hen jaarlijks prompt verrekening deed, waarvan zij de helft\nontvingen. Ik vroeg hem of hij wist hoe ver de verbeteringen der\nplantaadje gegaan waren, en of hij begreep dat zij verdiende opgezocht\nte worden, of als ik daarheen ging, mij mijn regt op de helft niet zou\nbetwist worden.\nHij zeide mij niet juist te kunnen bepalen, wat de plantaadje waard was,\nmaar dat mijn compagnon alleen van de helft een zeer rijk man was\ngeworden, en hij had gehoord dat het derde deel van den koning, dat naar\nhet schijnt een of ander klooster geschonken was, jaarlijks meer dan\ntweehonderd moidores bedroeg. Dat er geen twijfel aan de teruggave\nbestond, daar mijn compagnon nog leefde om mijn regt te bevestigen, en\nmijn naam ook op de lands registers ingeschreven was. Ook zeide hij mij,\ndat de opvolgers van mijne twee gevolmagtigden brave eerlijke lieden en\nzeer gegoed waren, en hij geloofde, dat zij mij niet alleen aan het\nbezit helpen, maar bovendien eene goede som gelds ter hand zouden\nstellen, zijnde de opbrengst tijdens de vorige gevolmagtigden het\nbestuurden, en v\u00f3\u00f3r de in beslagneming, die voor ongeveer twaalf jaren\nvoorgevallen was.\nDit verslag stelde mij echter niet geheel gerust, en ik vroeg den\nkapitein hoe het kwam, dat de gemagtigden zoo over mijne goederen\nbeschikt hadden, daar hij wist dat ik een testament gemaakt en hem, den\nPortugeschen kapitein, tot mijn eenigen erfgenaam had benoemd. Hij\nzeide, dat dit ook waar was, maar daar er geen bewijs van mijn dood\nbestond, hij niet als executeur kon handelen; bovendien had hij zulk\neene afgelegene zaak niet willen aanvaarden. Wel had hij mijn testament\ndoen registreren, en zijn regt bewezen, en zoo hij eenig bewijs van mijn\nleven of dood had kunnen geven, zou hij als procuratiehouder gehandeld,\nen mijne plantaadje in bezit genomen hebben, of zijn zoon hiermede\nbelast.\n\"Maar,\" zeide de oude man, \"ik heb u ander nieuws te vertellen, dat u\nmisschien minder aangenaam zal zijn dan het overige; dat is, dat daar\niedereen u verongelukt waande, uw compagnon en gemagtigden mij in uwen\nnaam de verrekening aanboden van de opbrengsten van de zes of acht\neerste jaren, die ik ontving; doch daar er tweemaal groote\nverbeteringen gemaakt werden, als het bouwen van een suikermolen, het\naankoopen van slaven enz., waren die opbrengsten zoo groot niet als de\nvolgende. Echter,\" vervolgde de oude man, \"zal ik u eene behoorlijke\nrekening geven van al wat ik ontvangen, en hoe ik er mede gehandeld\nheb.\"\nEenige dagen later bragt mijn oude vriend mij de rekening van de\ninkomsten der vijf of zes eerste jaren der plantaadje, geteekend door\nmijn compagnon en de gemagtigden, die altijd goederen afgeleverd hadden,\nzooals tabak in rollen en suiker in kisten, benevens rum en melassie, de\nvoortbrengselen van eene suikerplantaadje, en ik zag hieruit, dat de\ninkomsten telken jare aanmerkelijk grooter geworden waren. Doch daar in\nden beginne de uitgaven groot waren geweest, was de som eerst gering.\nEchter liet de oude man mij zien, dat hij mij vierhonderd en zeventig\ngouden moidores schuldig was, behalve zestig kisten suiker en vijftien\ndubbele rollen tabak, die verloren waren gegaan, toen hij ongeveer elf\njaren na mijn vertrek, te Lissabon, met verlies van zijn schip, was\ngekomen.\nDe oude man begon over zijne ongelukken te klagen, hoe hij verpligt was\ngeweest mijn geld te besteden om zijn verlies te herstellen, en een\naandeel in een nieuw schip te koopen. \"Doch, mijn oude vriend,\" zeide\nhij, \"gij zult voor 's hands wat op rekening hebben, en zoodra mijn zoon\nterugkomt, alles wat u toekomt.\" Daarop haalde hij eene oude beurs voor\nden dag en gaf mij honderd en zestig gouden moidores, en zijne bewijzen\nvan het aandeel dat hij en zijn zoon ieder voor een vierde in hun schip\nhadden, uithalende, stelde hij die als onderpand voor het overschot in\nmijne handen.\nDeze blijken van eerlijkheid en braafheid van den ouden man troffen mij\ngeweldig, en bedenkende wat hij voor mij gedaan had, hoe hij mij op zee\nopgenomen, en hoe edelmoedig hij mij bij alle gelegenheden behandeld\nhad, en in het bijzonder welk een opregte vriend hij thans bewees te\nzijn, kon ik mijne tranen niet bedwingen. Ik vroeg hem dus eerst of hij\nop dat oogenblik zooveel geld missen kon en of het hem niet eenigzins\nbelemmeren zou. Hij zeide, dat hij er zeker op het oogenblik een weinig\ndoor in de engte kwam; maar dat het altijd mijn geld was en ik er\nmisschien meer behoefte aan had dan hij.\nAlles wat de goede man zeide, was zoo welgemeend, dat ik, terwijl hij\nsprak, mijne tranen naauwelijks bedwingen kon. Om kort te gaan, ik nam\nhonderd moidores, en vroeg om pen en inkt, om er hem kwitantie van te\ngeven, daarop gaf ik hem het overige terug, en zeide, dat zoo ik ooit in\nhet bezit der plantaadje geraakte, ik ook het overige hem zou\nteruggeven, gelijk ik ook naderhand deed; dat ik zijn bewijs van aandeel\nin zijn zoons schip volstrekt niet wilde aannemen, daar ik begreep, dat\nzoo ik geldgebrek had, hij braaf genoeg was om mij te betalen; en zoo\ndit niet het geval was, maar ik datgene ontving, waarop hij mij hoop\ngaf, ik nimmer van hem een penning meer wilde aannemen.\nToen dit afgeloopen was, vroeg de oude man hoe ik mij weder in het bezit\nvan mijne plantaadje dacht te stellen. Ik zeide er zelf heen te willen\ngaan. Als ik dit goed vond kon ik dit doen, zeide hij, maar zoo niet dan\nwaren er middelen genoeg om mijne regten te handhaven, en mij\nonmiddellijk de voordeelen toe te eigenen; en daar te Lissabon schepen\nop de rivier zeilree lagen naar Brazili\u00eb, deed hij mijn naam in een\nopenbaar register inschrijven, terwijl hij be\u00ebedigde, dat ik in leven en\ndezelfde persoon was, die het eerst voor de bedoelde plantaadje het land\nhad aangevraagd. Nadat dit door een notaris met eene procuratie\nopgemaakt was, deed hij het mij naar een koopman aldaar zenden, dien hij\nkende, en stelde mij toen voor, tot aan het ontvangen van een antwoord\nbij hem te blijven.\nNimmer handelde men eerlijker dan bij het ontvangen van deze procuratie,\nwant binnen zeven maanden ontving ik een groot pakket van de\novergeblevenen mijner gemagtigden, de kooplieden, voor wier rekening ik\nnaar zee was gegaan. Hierin bevonden zich eerstelijk eene rekening\ncourant van de opbrengst mijner plantaadje, van het jaar af, waarin\nhunne vaders met den ouden Portugeschen kapitein hadden gesloten, zijnde\nvoor zes jaren, de balans sloot met elfhonderd vier en zeventig moidores\nin mijn voordeel. Ten tweede was er de verrekening van nog vier jaren,\ngedurende welke zij het bewind gevoerd hadden, v\u00f3\u00f3r de regering de\nadministratie eischte, als van een persoon, dien men burgerlijk dood\nachtte, en deze balans sloot, daar de waarde der plantaadje vermeerderd\nwas, met een batig slot van drie duizend twee honderd en een en veertig\nmoidores. Ten derde was er een brief bij van den prioor van het\nAugustijner klooster, die ruim veertien jaren de inkomsten ontvangen\nhad, doch daar hij niet in staat was datgene te verrekenen wat tot\nliefdadige einden uitgegeven was, eerlijk verklaarde, dat hij nog\nachthonderd twee en zeventig moidores niet uitgegeven had, die ter\nmijner beschikking waren. Het deel des konings leverde niets op.\nWijders was er een brief van mijn compagnon, die mij hartelijk geluk\nwenschte, dat ik nog in leven was, en mij verslag deed hoe veel de\nplantaadje verbeterd was, en wat zij 's jaarlijks opbragt, met opgave\nhoe veel morgen zij besloeg, hoe sterk de slavenmagt was en eindigende\nmet het berigt, dat hij twee-en-twintig _Ave Maria's_ had opgezegd tot\ndankbaarheid aan de H. Maagd voor mijne wonderbare behoudenis; terwijl\nhij mij ten sterkste uitnoodigde over te komen en van mijn eigendom\nbezit te nemen, en hem, zoo ik niet zelf kwam, orders te geven aan wien\nmijne goederen af te schepen, en eindigende met eene hartelijke\nverzekering van zijne vriendschap en die van zijne familie. Tot een\ngeschenk zond hij mij zeven fraaije tijgervellen, die hij naar het\nschijnt van Afrika ontvangen had met een ander schip, dat hij derwaarts\ngezonden had, en dat eene voorspoediger reis scheen aan te hebben dan\nik. Hij zond mij ook vijf kisten met confituren en een honderd stukken\nongemunt goud, niet wel zoo groot als moidores.\nMet dezelfde vloot zonden mijne twee gevolmagtigden mij twaalf honderd\nkisten suiker, achthonderd rollen tabak en het overige van onze rekening\nin goud.\nThans mogt ik wel zeggen, dat het laatste einde van Job beter was dan\nhet begin. Onmogelijk is het mijne aandoeningen te beschrijven, toen ik\ndeze brieven doorlas, en vooral toen ik al mijn rijkdom voor mij zag;\nwant daar de schepen uit Brazili\u00eb altijd met eene geheele vloot te\ngelijk komen, ontving ik mijne brieven te gelijk met mijne goederen, en\ndeze laatsten lagen reeds veilig op de Taag, voor de brieven mij ter\nhand gesteld worden. Ik werd bleek en ongesteld, en zoo niet de oude man\nmij eene hartsterking had gehaald, geloof ik dat de plotselinge vreugde\nmij te sterk geweest, en ik op de plaats dood gebleven zou zijn. Zelfs\nbleef ik nog ziek, tot eenige uren daarna een geneesheer geroepen werd,\nen deze de ware reden van mijne ongesteldheid vernemende, mij eene\naderlating liet doen, die mij veel verligtte, en waarna ik beter werd.\nIk was nu plotseling bezitter geworden van meer dan vijfduizend pond\nsterling in geld, en had eene bezitting in Brazili\u00eb, die meer dan\nduizend ponden 's jaars opleverde, zoo goed als eenig landgoed in\nEngeland; in een woord, in een toestand, waarin ik mij naauwelijks wist\nte voegen, of hoe ik dien genieten zou.\nHet eerste wat ik deed was mijn ouden weldoener, den goeden kapitein, te\nbeloonen, die mij het eerst in mijn tegenspoed had bijgestaan, van den\nbeginne af menschlievend, en tot aan het einde eerlijk jegens mij\ngehandeld had. Ik toonde hem al wat mij gezonden was. Ik zeide hem, dat\nna de Voorzienigheid, die alles bestiert, ik dat alles aan hem te danken\nhad, en dat het nu mijn pligt was hem te beloonen, hetwelk ik\nhonderdvoudig doen wilde. Vooreerst gaf ik hem dus de honderd moidores,\ndie ik van hem ontvangen had, terug, daarop liet ik een notaris roepen,\nen deze een volkomen kwijtschelding opmaken, zoo volledig als mogelijk,\nvan de vierhonderd en zeventig moidores, die hij opgegeven had mij\nschuldig te zijn, waarna ik eene procuratie op hem liet vervaardigen,\ntot den ontvangst der jaarlijksche inkomsten mijner plantaadje, en mijn\ncompagnon opdroeg met hem te sluiten, en de jaarlijksche opbrengst op de\ngewone wijze met de vloot aan hem over te maken. Een clausule in het\neinde behelsde eene jaarlijksche gift aan hem van honderd moidores, zoo\nlang hij leefde, en van vijftig aan zijn zoon, zoo lang deze leefde,\nalles uit de goederen te voldoen. Op deze wijze vergold ik den ouden man\nzijne goedheden.\nNu moest ik begrijpen welken koers thans in te slaan, en wat te doen met\nhet goud, dat de Voorzienigheid mij aldus gegeven had. Ik had thans\nwaarlijk meer zorg en hoofdbreken dan in mijne stille levenswijze op het\neiland; waar ik geene behoeften had dan die ik voldoen kon; terwijl ik\nnu een grooten last op mijne schouders had. Ik had hier geene grot om\nmijn geld in te bergen, noch geen plaats waar ik dit zonder slot of\ngrendel kon nederleggen, tot het roestig en beschimmeld werd;\nintegendeel, ik wist niet waar ik het laten of wien ik het toevertrouwen\nzou; mijn oude beschermer, de kapitein, die een braaf man was, was\ninderdaad mijne eenigste toevlugt.\nMijne bezittingen in Brazili\u00eb schenen vroeger mijne tegenwoordigheid\naldaar te vereischen, maar nu kon ik niet denken daar naar toe te gaan,\nvoor ik eerst mijne zaken beschikt en mijne goederen in vertrouwde\nhanden achtergelaten had. Eerst dacht ik aan mijne oude vriendin, de\nweduwe, wier eerlijkheid mij bekend was, maar zij was hoogbejaard en\narm, misschien wel in schulden stekende; zoodat ik begreep zelf naar\nEngeland te moeten terugkeeren en mijne bezittingen mede te nemen.\nHet duurde echter eenige maanden, voor ik hiertoe besluiten kon, en na\nderhalve mijn voormaligen weldoener, den kapitein, voldoende en naar\nzijn genoegen beloond te hebben, begon ik aan de weduwe te denken, wier\nechtgenoot mijn eerste weldoener was geweest, en zij, zoo veel in hare\nmagt was, mijne trouwe geldbewaarster. Het eerst wat ik dus deed was\ndoor een Lissabonsche koopman aan zijn correspondent in Londen te doen\nschrijven, haar op te zoeken, en haar niet een wissel, maar honderd pond\nin geld te brengen, haar te gaan spreken en in hare armoede te troosten,\ndoor haar te zeggen, dat zij, zoo lang ik leefde, onderstand van mij zou\nontvangen. Tegelijker tijd zond ik honderd pond aan ieder van mijne\nzusters, die, ofschoon niet behoeftig, toch in geene ruime\nomstandigheden waren, de eene was eene weduwe, en de andere had een\nechtgenoot, die zich jegens haar niet zoo gedroeg als hij wel mogt. Doch\nonder al mijne bekenden wist ik niemand te bedenken, wien ik al mijn\ngeld durfde vertrouwen, zoodat ik naar Brazili\u00eb kon gaan, en alles\ngerust achterlaten. Dit bragt mij in groote verlegenheid.\nEens vatte ik het plan op naar Brazili\u00eb te gaan, om er mij voor altijd\nneder te zetten, want ik was er als het ware genaturaliseerd, maar ik\nhad eenige godsdienstige bezwaren, die mij daarvan terughielden. Ik had\nwel niet geaarzeld om zoo lang ik onder hen was, mij te houden alsof ik\nhunne godsdienst aankleefde, en dit deed ik ook nog niet, maar er thans\nmeer dan vroeger over denkende om daar te leven en te sterven, berouwde\nhet mij, dat ik mij voor een Katholijk uitgegeven had, daar ik niet\ngaarne in de belijdenis van die leer wilde sterven. Echter was het dit\nniet, wat mij voornamelijk terughield van naar Brazili\u00eb te gaan; maar de\nonzekerheid wien ik mijne bezittingen zou toevertrouwen. Dus besloot ik\ndie eerst naar Engeland te brengen, waar ik alsdan wel eenige kennissen\nzou weten of bloedverwanten vinden, die mij vertrouwd toeschenen; en\ndiensvolgens maakte ik mij gereed met al mijn geld naar Engeland terug\nte gaan.\nTe dien einde besloot ik in de eerste plaats, daar de vloot naar\nBrazili\u00eb weder zeilree lag, op de eerlijke en brave verrekeningen, die\nik van daar ontvangen had, antwoord te geven. Eerst schreef ik den\nprioor van het Augustijner klooster een brief tot dankzegging voor zijne\nedelmoedige handelwijze en de aanbieding der 872 onuitgegeven moidores,\nwaarvan ik verlangde, dat vijfhonderd aan het klooster, en de overige\naan de armen zouden gegeven worden, naar des prioors goedvinden; terwijl\nik den goeden Pater verzocht mij in zijne gebeden te bedenken.\nDaarop schreef ik een dankbaren brief aan mijne twee gemagtigden, met al\nde erkentelijkheid, die hunne braafheid en eerlijkheid verdienden; hun\neenig geschenk te zenden, ware water in de zee dragen geweest. Eindelijk\nschreef ik aan mijn compagnon mijn dank, voor de verbetering mijner\nplantaadje, en zijn ijver daarin; gaf hem last omtrent zijn verder\nbestier derzelve van mijn aandeel; in overeenstemming met de volmagt,\ndie ik aan den ouden kapitein had gegeven, aan wien ik hem verzocht\nalles wat mij toekwam over te maken, tot hij nader van mij zou hooren.\nIk verzekerde hem, dat ik niet alleen voornemens was naar hem toe te\nkomen, maar ook het overschot mijns levens er te blijven doorbrengen.\nHierbij voegde ik een fraai geschenk van eenige Italiaansche zijde voor\nzijne vrouw en twee dochters, (welke hij, volgens berigt van des\nkapiteins zoon had) met twee stukken fijn Engelsch laken, het beste dat\nik in Lissabon bekomen kon, en eenige Vlaamsche kant van hooge waarde.\nNa op deze wijze mijne zaken geschikt, mijne lading verkocht, en voor al\nmijne goederen wissels gekocht te hebben, was de vraag, hoe ik naar\nEngeland zou gaan. Hoezeer ik ook aan de zee gewoon was, had ik toen een\nsterken tegenzin om ter zee naar Engeland te gaan. Schoon ik er geene\nreden voor had, werd deze tegenzin zoo sterk, dat toen mijne bagaadje\nreeds aan boord was, ik nog van gedachten veranderde, en dat wel niet\neens maar twee- of driemalen. Het is waar, ik was op zee zeer ongelukkig\ngeweest, en dit kon er de reden van zijn, doch het is niemand geraden in\nzaken van zooveel belang zijn voorgevoel te verachten. Twee der schepen,\nwaar ik het oog meer bijzonder op geslagen had, zoodat ik reeds mijne\ngoederen in het eene gezonden had, en met den kapitein van het andere\nmijnen overtogt reeds bepaald; deze twee zelfde schepen verongelukten;\nhet eene namelijk werd door Algerijnsche kapers genomen en het andere\nbij Torbay verbrijzeld, en al het volk op drie na, verdronk; zodat ik\nniet weet op welk schip ik ongelukkiger zou geweest zijn.\nIn dezen tweestrijd nam ik mijne toevlugt tot mijn ouden raadsman, die\nmij ernstig ried niet ter zee de reis te doen, maar te land, en de golf\nvan Biscaye over te steken naar Rochelle, vanwaar ik veilig en\ngemakkelijk naar Parijs en zoo over Calais naar Dover reizen kon; of\nnaar Madrid te gaan en geheel Frankrijk door de reis te land te doen. Om\nkort te gaan, ik had zooveel tegen eene zeereis, behalve van Calais naar\nDover, dat ik besloot den geheelen weg te land af te leggen; hetwelk,\ndaar ik geen haast had en het geld niet behoefde te ontzien, verre weg\nde aangenaamste was; vooral toen mijn oude kapitein een Engelsen heer,\nden zoon van een koopman uit Lissabon, bij mij bragt, die de reis mede\nwilde maken, waarna wij nog twee Engelsche kooplieden en twee jonge\nPortugesche heeren vonden, waarvan de laatsten alleen naar Parijs\ngingen; zoodat wij in alles met ons zessen en vijf knechten waren. De\ntwee kooplieden en de Portugezen namen ieder een knecht met hun beide om\nde onkosten, en ik nam voor mij als knecht een Engelsch matroos mede,\nbehalve Vrijdag, die veel te onbedreven was om op reis als knecht te\ngebruiken.\nOp deze wijze vertrokken wij van Lissabon, allen goed bereden en\ngewapend, zoodat wij een kleinen troep uitmaakten. Men deed mij de eer\naan mij kapitein te noemen, omdat ik de oudste was en twee knechts bij\nmij had, en ook de eigenlijke oorzaak van de geheele reis was. Daar ik\nden lezer met geen mijner zeetogten lastig gevallen ben, wil ik dit ook\nniet met het journaal van mijne landreis doen; echter mag ik eenige\navonturen niet verzwijgen, die wij op deze lange en bezwaarlijke reis\nontmoetten.\nTe Madrid gekomen, bleven wij daar eenigen tijd vertoeven, daar wij\nallen vreemdelingen in Spanje waren, om het Spaansche hof en al wat\nmerkwaardig was te bezigtigen, doch daar het laat in den zomer was,\nhielden wij er ons niet lang op, en verlieten Madrid omstreeks het\nmidden van October. Maar toen wij aan de grenzen van Navarra kwamen,\nwerden wij op verscheidene plaatsen verontrust door de tijding, dat er\naan de Fransche zijde zoo veel sneeuw was gevallen, dat verscheidene\nreizigers verpligt waren geweest naar Pampeluna terug te keeren, na met\nveel gevaar den overtogt beproefd te hebben.\nTe Pampeluna aangekomen, vonden wij dat dit de waarheid was, en voor\nmij, die altijd in een heet klimaat, waar men naauwelijks kleederen\nverdragen kon, had geleefd, was de koude onuitstaanbaar. Nog\nonaangenamer dan verrassend was het, dat wij slechts tien dagen te voren\nOud-Kastili\u00eb hadden verlaten, waar het niet alleen warm, maar zeer heet\nwas, en onmiddellijk een zoo strengen, snijdenden wind uit het\nPyrenesche gebergte voelden, dat die ondragelijk was, en wij bang\nwerden, dat onze handen en voeten zouden bevriezen. De arme Vrijdag was\ninderdaad in doodsangst, toen hij de bergen met sneeuw bedekt zag, en\nvoor het eerst van zijn leven de koude gevoelde.\nTot meerder ongeluk bleef het, toen wij te Pampeluna gekomen waren, zoo\ngeweldig doorsneeuwen en zoo lang, dat men zeide, dat de winter v\u00f3\u00f3r\nzijn tijd was gekomen, en de vroeger moeijelijke wegen thans geheel\nontoegankelijk waren; in \u00e9\u00e9n woord, de sneeuw lag op sommige plaatsen te\nhoog om er door te komen, en daar zij niet bevrozen was, gelijk in\nnoordelijke landen, kon men niet voorttrekken, zonder bij iedere schrede\ngevaar te loopen van levend begraven te worden. Wij bleven niet minder\ndan twintig dagen te Pampeluna, toen ik, ziende dat de winter inviel en\ner geene waarschijnlijkheid op zachter weder was (want strenger winter\nhad men in vele jaren in Europa niet vernomen) voorstelde dat wij allen\nnaar Fontarabia zouden gaan, en ons daar inschepen naar Bordeaux, dat\neen korte reis was.\nToen wij echter hierover beraadslaagden, kwamen er vier Fransche heeren\naan, die aan de Fransche zijde, even als wij aan de Spaansche, gebleven\nwaren, tot zij een gids hadden gevonden, die het land bij het hoofd van\nLanguedoc doortrekkende, hen langs wegen had gevoerd, waar zij slechts\nweinig sneeuw hadden aangetroffen, en deze was nog zoo hard bevroren,\nzeiden zij, dat zij hen en hunne paarden had kunnen dragen. Wij lieten\ndezen gids roepen, die zeide te willen aannemen ons langs denzelfden weg\nte brengen, zonder eenig gevaar van de sneeuw, mits wij genoeg gewapend\nwaren, om ons voor de wilde dieren te beschermen; want als er zoo veel\nsneeuw viel, zeide hij, kwamen de wolven dikwijls van het gebergte naar\nbeneden, razende van honger, omdat de met sneeuw bedekte grond hun geen\nvoedsel aanbood. Wij zeiden, dat wij voor zulke beesten genoeg gewapend\nwaren, als hij ons beveiligen kon voor eene soort van wolven op twee\nbeenen, waarvan naar men ons gezegd had, wij vooral aan de Fransche\nzijde van het gebergte het meeste gevaar liepen. Hij verzekerde ons, dat\nop den weg, dien hij wilde nemen, wij daarvan geen gevaar zouden loopen.\nDus besloten wij hem te volgen, even als twaalf andere heeren met hunne\nknechten, Spanjaarden en Franschen, die gelijk ik zeide, den overtogt\nbeproefd hadden, maar genoodzaakt waren geweest terug te keeren.\nWij verlieten dan allen Pampeluna, den vijftienden November, met onzen\ngids aan het hoofd, die tot mijne verbazing, in plaats van vooruit te\ngaan, met ons terugkeerde, wel twintig Engelsche mijlen op den weg, dien\nwij van Madrid afgekomen waren; waarna wij twee rivieren overtrokken en\nde vlakte bereikt hebbende, ons wederom in een warm klimaat en\naangename landstreek bevonden, waar geen sneeuw te zien was; maar\nplotseling links afslaande, naderde hij het gebergte langs een anderen\nweg, en schoon de hoogten en afgronden verschrikkelijk zich vertoonden,\nmaakte hij zooveel bogten en wendingen, dat hij ons zonder het te weten\nover de hoogste gebergten had gebragt, zonder dat wij veel last van de\nsneeuw hadden gehad, en plotseling wees hij ons de aangename lagchende\ngewesten van Languedoc en Gascogne, die allen groen en bloeijend er\nuitzagen, schoon zij nog ver af lagen en wij nog een bezwaarlijken weg\ntot daartoe hadden. Wij werden wel eenigzins ongerust, toen het\nvier-en-twintig uren achtereen zoo hevig sneeuwde, dat wij stil moesten\nhouden, doch hij stelde ons gerust en verzekerde, dat wij spoedig alles\nte boven zouden zijn. Inderdaad vonden wij elken dag, dat wij afdaalden,\nen dus trokken wij, in vertrouwen op onzen gids, voort.\nOngeveer twee uren voor het donker werd, was onze gids ons een eind\nweegs vooruit, en toevallig buiten ons gezigt. Eensklaps kwamen drie\nmonsterachtige wolven uit een hollen weg, die in een digt bosch uitkwam,\ntevoorschijn. Twee wolven vlogen op den gids aan, en zoo hij een half\nkwartier verder vooruit was geweest, zouden zij hem verslonden hebben,\nvoor wij hem te hulp hadden kunnen schieten. Een hunner greep het paard,\nen de andere den man zoo onstuimig aan, dat hij geen tijd of geen\ntegenwoordigheid van geest genoeg had om zijn pistool uit te halen, maar\nallergeweldigst om hulp riep. Vrijdag was juist naast mij, ik gelastte\nhem vooruit te rijden, om te zien wat er te doen was. Zoodra Vrijdag hem\nin het gezigt kreeg, riep hij zoo hard als de ander: \"O meester,\nmeester!\" maar daar hij een moedige kerel was, reed hij tot vlak bij den\nman, en schoot den wolf met een pistool door den kop.\nHet was gelukkig voor den armen man, dat het Vrijdag was, die hem te\nhulp kwam, want hij, die in zijn vaderland die beesten gezien had, was\ner niet bang voor, terwijl zoo een onzer op een verderen afstand\ngeschoten had, hij misschien den wolf gemist of welligt den gids\ngetroffen had. Het was genoeg om een moediger man dan ik te ontzetten,\nen ons geheele gezelschap was er inderdaad van verschrikt, toen wij na\nhet afschieten van Vrijdags pistool, aan weerszijden het afschuwelijkst\nwolvengehuil hoorden, dat door de echo's in het gebergte verdubbeld\nwerd, zoodat het scheen alsof er eene ontzettende menigte was, en\nmisschien waren er genoeg om ons reden tot vrees te geven.\nToen echter Vrijdag den eenen wolf had doodgeschoten, liet de ander\ndadelijk het paard los, en nam de vlugt. Gelukkig had hij het bij den\nkop gegrepen en het gebit in zijn bek gepakt, zoo dat hij het paard\nweinig kwaad had gedaan. De gids had meer geleden; want hij was tweemaal\ndoor het beest gebeten, eens in den arm en eens in de dij, en hij stond\nop het punt om van zijn verschrikt paard te vallen, toen Vrijdag hem\nbereikte.\nGemakkelijk begrijpt men, dat wij op het hooren van Vrijdags schot,\nallen onze paarden aanzetten, en zoo hard als de weg, die zeer\nmoeijelijk was, toeliet, opreden, om te zien wat er te doen was. Zoodra\nwij de boomen, die ons het uitzigt benamen, voorbij waren, zagen wij wat\nhet geval was, en hoe Vrijdag den armen gids ontzet had, schoon wij nog\nniet zien konden, welk beest hij gedood had.\nMaar nimmer zag men een moediger en zonderlinger gevecht dan hetgeen nu\nvolgde tusschen Vrijdag en den beer, die ons (schoon wij in het eerst\nzeer bang voor hem waren) veel vermaak gaf. Daar de beer een zwaar en\nplomp schepsel is, die niet zoo vlug loopt als de wolf, handelt hij\ngewoonlijk naar twee regels. Den mensch, die zijn eigenlijke prooi niet\nuitmaakt, schoon ik niet zeggen kan wat groote honger, als de sneeuw,\ngelijk thans het geval was, den grond bedekt, bij hem kan uitwerken, den\nmensch, zeg ik, valt hij zelden het eerst aan; integendeel, zoo gij u\nmet hem niet inlaat, zal hij zich met u niet bemoeijen. Maar men moet\ntoch zeer beleefd tegen hem zijn, en laten hem den weg vrij; want hij is\nzeer trotsch en zou voor geen prins uit den weg gaan; het best is een\nanderen weg heen te zien en bedaard voort te gaan, want zoo men\nstilstaat en hem stijf aanziet, wil hij dit wel eens als eene\nbeleediging opnemen. Zoo men hem echter met iets gooit, dat hem raakt,\nal ware het maar een takje zoo dun als een pink, dan wordt hij boos, en\nlaat alles staan om zijne wraak te koelen; want hij staat magtig op het\npunt van eer; dit is zijn eerste eigenschap. De tweede is, dat als gij\nhem beleedigd hebt, hij u nacht en dag volgen zal, om zich te wreken,\ntot hij u ingehaald heeft.\nVrijdag had onzen gids gered, en toen wij bij hem kwamen, was hij bezig\nhem van zijn paard te helpen, want de man was zoo wel verschrikt als\ngekwetst, vooral het eerste; toen wij eensklaps den beer uit het bosch\nzagen komen; het was een monsterachtige; de grootste, dien ik ooit zag.\nWij waren allen een weinig ontsteld bij dit gezigt, maar toen Vrijdag\nhem gewaar werd, kon men de vreugde op zijn gelaat lezen. \"O! o! o!\"\nriep hij, \"meester, geef mij verlof hem goeden dag te zeggen, gij zult\nlagchen om hem.\"\nIk verwonderde mij over zijne vreugde, en zeide: \"Gek, hij zal u\nopeten!\"--\"Mij opeten! mij opeten!\" riep Vrijdag. \"Ik zal hem opeten\nliever, en u laten lagchen. Blijft allen hier staan, ik zal u laten\nlagchen.\" Hij ging zitten en had in een oogenblik zijne laarzen uit en\neen paar ligte schoenen aan, die hij in zijn zak had; daarop gaf hij\nmijn anderen knecht zijn paard en liep weg als de wind. De beer kuijerde\nzachtjes voort, en scheen zich met niemand te willen inlaten, tot\nVrijdag nader gekomen, hem toeriep: \"Hoor eens, hoor eens, ik moet u\neens spreken!\" alsof de beer hem verstaan kon. Wij volgden op een\nafstand, want wij waren nu in een bosch gekomen, waar de grond effen, en\nvrij open was, schoon hier en daar verscheidene boomen stonden. Vrijdag,\ndie den beer achterna liep, was spoedig digt bij hem gekomen, waarop hij\neen steen opnam, en hem dien juist op het hoofd wierp, maar het was zoo\ngoed alsof hij hem tegen een muur had geworpen, schoon Vrijdag er zijn\ndoel mede bereikte, dat namelijk de beer op hem afkwam, ten einde ons te\nlaten lagchen, zoo als hij zeide.\nZoodra de beer den steenworp gevoeld had, keerde hij zich om en kwam met\nzoo duchtig groote stappen voortschuiven, dat een paard in een galop hem\nnaauwelijks had kunnen bijhouden. Weg vloog Vrijdag, en nam zijn weg\nnaar ons toe als om hulp; dus besloten wij allen te gelijk op den beer\nte schieten, en mijn knecht te ontzetten; schoon ik niet weinig boos op\nhem was, dat hij ons den beer op den hals had gehaald, terwijl die een\nanderen weg uitkuijerde, en vooral omdat hij eerst den beer naar ons\ntoelokte, en toen wegliep. \"Is dat ons aan het lagchen maken, kerel?\"\nriep ik. \"Kom hier en neem uw paard, dan zullen wij op den beer\nschieten.\" Hij hoorde mij, en riep: \"niet schieten! niet schieten! Blijf\nstaan, gij zult veel lagchen.\" En terwijl de vlugge knaap slechts twee\nvoet voor den beer uit was, keerde hij zich plotseling om, en een\ngrooten eikenboom ziende, die hij tot zijn oogmerk geschikt achtte,\nwenkte hij ons hem te volgen, en zijn gang versnellende, klom hij vlug\nin den boom, na zijn geweer op vijf of zes ellen afstands van den boom\nnedergelegd te hebben.\nSpoedig was de beer bij den boom gekomen, en wij volgden op een afstand.\nEerst bleef hij bij het geweer staan, berook het, maar liet het liggen,\nen klom toen als eene kat in den boom, schoon hij zulk een plomp dier\nwas. Ik stond versteld van de dolheid van mijn knecht, en kon nog maar\nniets zien om te lagchen, doch toen wij den beer op den boom zagen,\nreden wij allen er digter naar toe. Toen wij er bij kwamen, was Vrijdag\naan het dunne eind van een zwaren arm van den boom gekomen, en de beer\nwas er halverwege op. Zoodra Vrijdag zag, dat hij het einde van den tak\nnaderde, riep hij ons toe: \"Nu zult gij een beer zien leeren dansen.\"\nHij begon dus den tak te schudden en er op te dansen, zoodat de beer\nbegon te waggelen en achterom keek, alsof hij den aftogt wilde slaan, en\nwij ons van lagchen niet konden bedwingen. Maar Vrijdag had nog niet met\nhem gedaan; toen hij zag, dat hij stil stond, riep hij hem weder toe,\nalsof het beest hem verstaan kon: \"Kom wat nader, vriend; kom wat nader\nals het u belieft!\" Daarop bleef hij stil zitten, waarop de beer wat\nverder vooruit kwam, toen begon hij weder te springen, en de beer bleef\nstokstijf staan.\nWij dachten, dat het nu een geschikt tijdstip was, om hem voor den kop\nte schieten, en dus riep ik Vrijdag toe, stil te zitten, dat wij den\nbeer zouden schieten, maar hij riep: \"Niet schieten! niet schieten! Ik\nzal hem straks wel schieten.\" Om kort te gaan Vrijdag danste zoo lustig\nen de beer stond zoo uit het veld geslagen, dat wij ons lagchen niet\nkonden bedwingen, schoon ik nog niet begrijpen kon, wat hij doen wilde.\nEerst dachten wij, dat hij den beer uit den boom zou laten tuimelen,\nmaar daar was de beer te slim toe, want hij kwam niet ver genoeg, en\nhield zich met zijne breede klaauwen zoo stevig vast, dat wij niet\nbegrepen, hoe het af zou loopen.\nEindelijk maakte Vrijdag er een einde aan, en riep den beer toe: \"Komt\ngij niet bij mij, dan zal ik bij u komen.\" Daarop schoof hij achteruit\ntot aan het uiterste einde van den tak, die door zijne zwaarte\nnederboog, zoodat hij gemakkelijk op den grond kon springen, gelijk hij\ndeed, en toen zijn geweer halen ging. \"Wel Vrijdag, waarom schiet gij\nhem nu niet?\" vroeg ik. \"Nog niet schieten,\" zeide Vrijdag, \"eerst nog\nwat lagchen, dan zal ik hem schieten.\" Toen de beer zijn vijand\nvertrekken zag, klom hij van den zijtak af, maar uiterst benaauwd en bij\niederen stap achterom ziende, tot dat hij den stam bereikt had. Toen\nklom hij verder zeer langzaam en zeer schroomvallig, voetje voor voetje\nachteruit, en even voor hij zijn achterpoot op den grond zette, liep\nVrijdag naar hem toe, stak den tromp van zijn snaphaan in zijn oor en\nschoot hem zoo dood als een steen.\nToen keerde de knaap zich naar ons toe, en toen hij zag dat wij tevreden\nwaren, begon hij hartelijk te lagchen, en zeide: \"Zoo schieten wij de\nbeeren in ons land.\"--\"Hoe wilt gij die schieten zonder geweren?\" vroeg\nik.--\"Niet met geweer, maar met zeer lange bogen,\" zeide hij.--Dit\nvoorval had ons eene aangename afleiding gegeven, maar wij waren nog\naltijd in eene woeste streek, onze gids was gekwetst, en wij wisten\nnaauwelijks wat nu te doen; het gehuil der wolven klonk ons nog in de\nooren, en behalve het geraas, dat ik aan de Afrikaansche kust hoorde,\nwaarvan ik vroeger gesproken heb, herinner ik mij niet ooit iets gehoord\nte hebben, dat zoo afgrijsselijk was. De bedenking hiervan en dat het\nduister werd, riep ons van daar, anders hadden wij zeker, gelijk Vrijdag\nbegeerde, dien monsterachtigen beer de huid afgestroopt, die het wel\nwaard was, doch wij hadden nog drie mijlen af te leggen en onze gids\nhaastte ons; dus lieten wij hem liggen en vervolgden onze reis. De grond\nbleef nog met sneeuw bedekt, schoon niet zoo diep en gevaarlijk als op\nhet gebergte, en de wolven waren, gelijk wij naderhand hoorden, door den\nhonger gedreven tot in de vlakte afgedaald, en hadden in de dorpen veel\nkwaads gedaan, schapen en paarden en ook eenige menschen gedood. Wij\nmoesten nog eene gevaarlijke engte door, waar wij, gelijk onze gids\nzeide, zoo er nog wolven in die streek waren, ze zouden aantreffen; dit\nwas eene kleine vlakte, die tusschen digte bosschen, als eene lange laan\ndoorliep, en die wij door moesten, om het dorp te bereiken, waar wij ons\nnachtverblijf zouden houden.\nEen half uur voor zonsondergang trokken wij het eerste bosch door, en\neven na zonsondergang kwamen wij in de vlakte. In het eerste vonden wij\nniets, dan op eene opene plek van geen twee roeden breed, zagen wij vijf\nwolven den weg oversteken, alsof zij eene prooi najaagden. Zij sloegen\nop ons geen acht en waren in een oogenblik uit ons gezigt. Hierop ried\nonze gids, die in zijn hart een lafaard was, ons aan op onze hoede te\nzijn, want dat hij geloofde, dat er meer wolven kwamen.\nWij hielden onze wapenen gereed, doch zagen geen meer wolven voor wij\nhet bosch door en op de vlakte gekomen waren. Daar gekomen hadden wij\ngenoeg te zien. In de eerste plaats zagen wij een paard, dat de wolven\ngedood hadden, en waar wel een dozijn aan bezig waren de beenen af te\nkluiven, want het vleesch was er reeds geheel af. Wij achtten het niet\ngeraden hen in hunnen maaltijd te storen, en zij sloegen op ons geen\nacht. Vrijdag wilde op hen schieten, maar ik verbood het, want ik\nbegreep, dat wij spoedig genoeg te doen zouden hebben. Wij waren nog\nniet halverwege de vlakte door, toen wij in het bosch aan de linkerzijde\nvan ons, de wolven allerverschrikkelijkst hoorden huilen; en kort daarop\nzagen wij een troep van wel honderd regt op ons aankomen, zoo geregeld\nals een troep soldaten. Ik wist niet hoe hen best te ontvangen, maar\nbegreep, dat wij allen een digtgesloten linie moesten maken. Dit\ngeschiedde in een oogenblik, en nu gelastte ik, dat men slechts om den\nanderen man schieten zou, terwijl de anderen zich gereed zouden houden\ntot eene tweede losbranding als zij bleven naderen, terwijl dan de\neersten niet hunne geweren laden, maar ieder met eene pistool gereed\nzouden staan, want wij hadden ieder een geweer en twee pistolen, dus\nkonden wij zes maal achtereen vuur geven. Dit was echter niet noodig,\nwant bij de eerste laag bleef de vijand staan, verschrikt van het vuur\nen het schieten; vier waren doodgeschoten en verscheidenen gewond,\ngelijk wij aan het bloed op de sneeuw zagen. Daar zij nu stand hielden\nen niet terugtrokken, bragt ik mij te binnen, dat mij wel eens verhaald\nwas, dat de woestste dieren voor de stem van een mensch vreezen; en liet\ndus ons geheele gezelschap een luid geschreeuw aanheffen. Dit middel had\nhet gewenschte gevolg, zij keerden zich om en begonnen af te trekken.\nEene tweede laag van ons deed hen daarop ijlings wegvlugten.\nDit gaf ons tijd onze wapenen weder te laden, gelijk wij zonder dralen\ndeden; naauwelijks was dit echter geschied of wij hoorden aan onze\nlinkerzijde, in hetzelfde bosch doch verder af, weder een\nverschrikkelijk geweld, van den kant dien wij moesten heentrekken. De\nnacht begon in te vallen, en de duisternis maakte onzen toestand nog\nhagchelijker; doch wij konden, toen het rumoer heviger werd, duidelijk\nhet gehuil dier helsche beesten onderkennen, en plotseling zagen wij\ntwee of drie troepen wolven, een op zijde, een van achteren en een voor\nons uit, zoodat wij geheel omringd schenen. Daar zij ons echter niet\naanvielen, zetten wij onzen weg voort, zoo snel onze paarden voort komen\nkonden, hetgeen slechts op een middelmatigen draf was, daar de weg\nslecht was. Op deze wijze kwamen wij aan den ingang van het bosch, dat\nwij na de vlakte, door moesten trekken, maar wij zagen met leede oogen,\ntoen wij bij den engen weg of laan, die er door liep, kwamen, dat vlak\naan den ingang eene groote troep wolven stond. Plotseling hoorden wij\nvan eene andere opening in het bosch een geweerschot, en een paard met\nzadel en toom kwam er uitvliegen als de wind met zestien of zeventien\nwolven achter zich. Het paard liep sneller, maar kon het niet lang zoo\nuithouden, en zij moesten het weldra inhalen.\nToen wij daarop den ingang, waar het paard uitgekomen was, binnengereden\nwaren, zagen wij een verschrikkelijk tooneel. Wij vonden nog een paard\nen twee menschen, die de wolven verscheurden. Ongetwijfeld had een der\nmannen het geweer afgeschoten, want dit lag naast hem, doch de wolven\nhadden hem reeds half verslonden. Vol afgrijzen wisten wij eerst niet\nwat te doen, doch de wolven lieten ons weinig tijd van beraad, want zij\nverzamelden zich om ons heen, en schenen ons tot hunne prooi uitgekozen\nte hebben. Ik geloof, dat er wel driehonderd waren. Tot ons geluk lagen\ndigt bij den ingang van het bosch eenige zware boomstammen, die den\nvorigen zomer zeker geveld en nog niet weggehaald waren. Ik plaatste\nmijne kleine troep achter deze, en vormde zoo een driehoekig front met\nde paarden in het midden. Het was tijd, want weldra kwamen zij met een\ndof gegrom aanzetten en beklommen onze borstwering, als waren zij zeker\nvan hunnen buit. Het schijnt, dat zij vooral woedend werden door onze\npaarden achter ons te zien. Ik gelastte, dat men om den anderen man\nweder zou vuren, en ieder mikte zoo goed, dat bij de eerste losbranding\nverscheidene wolven sneuvelden, maar wij moesten aanhoudend doorvuren,\nwant de achtersten dreven de voorsten aanhoudend als ware duivels\nvooruit. Bij onze tweede losbranding schenen zij tot staan gebragt, maar\nhet was slechts voor een oogenblik, want er kwamen weder anderen\nopzetten, dus deden wij twee losbrandingen met onze pistolen, en doodden\ngeloof ik wel zeventien of achttien en kwetsten zeker eens zooveel, maar\ntoch kwamen er meer opzetten.\nIk wilde ongaarne onze laatste losbranding te haastig geven, dus riep ik\nmijn knecht, niet Vrijdag, want die was beter bezig met mijn geweer en\nhet zijne telkens met de grootste vlugheid weder te laden, maar de\nander, gaf hem een kruidhoorn, en gelastte hem onder den boomstam een\nbreeden loop kruid te leggen. Hij deed dit en was naauwelijks weg, of de\nwolven kwamen opzetten en sommigen er opspringen, toen ik eene pistool\nop het kruid losbrandde, en dat ontstak. Die op den stam waren, vielen\ngezengd neder, verscheidene sprongen tot midden onder ons. Deze werden\ndadelijk afgemaakt en de overigen waren zoo verschrikt van het vuur, dat\nzij een weinig terugtrokken. Hierop gelastte ik al onze pistolen gelijk\naf te vuren en tevens hard te schreeuwen, waarop de wolven het hazenpad\nkozen, en wij op een twintig gekwetsten aanvielen, die op den grond\nlagen, en ze in een oogenblik afmaakten, hetwelk een gelukkig gevolg\nhad, want hun gekerm en gehuil werd door hunne makkers zeer goed\nbegrepen, die de vlugt kozen en ons verlieten.\nWij hadden zeker zestig wolven gedood, en zouden, zoo het dag geweest\nwas, er nog meer nedergeveld hebben. Na dus ruim baan gemaakt te hebben,\ntrokken wij weder vooruit, want wij hadden nog ongeveer een uur gaans\nvoor ons. Onderweg hoorden wij de hongerige beesten gestadig huilen, en\nverbeeldden ons somtijds ze te zien, doch konden dit niet zeker zeggen,\ndaar onze oogen van de schittering der sneeuw verblind waren. Een uur\nlater kwamen wij in het dorp, waar wij ons nachtverblijf moesten houden,\nen hier vonden wij alles in onrust en beweging, want den vorigen nacht\nwaren eenige wolven en beeren tot in het dorp doorgedrongen en hadden\nhun een doodschrik op het lijf gejaagd, en zij waren verpligt altijd en\nvooral des nachts de wacht te houden, ten einde hun vee en hun eigen\nleven te beveiligen.\nDen volgenden morgen was onze gids zoo ziek en zijne kwetsuren zoo\nontstoken, dat wij niet verder voort konden, dus waren wij verpligt een\nnieuwen gids aan te nemen en naar Toulouse te gaan, waar wij weder in\neen warm luchtgestel en een aangenaam, vruchtbaar land waren. Maar toen\nwij te Toulouse ons wedervaren verhaalden, zeide men ons, dat dit in het\ngroote bosch aan den voet van het gebergte, niets ongewoons was, vooral\nals de grond met sneeuw bedekt was. Maar men vroeg ons, welk slag van\neen gids wij gevonden hadden, die het had durven wagen ons in dat\nstrenge jaargetij te geleiden en verzekerde, dat het een wonder was, dat\nwij niet allen verongelukt waren. Toen wij verhaalden, welke stelling\nwij hadden aangenomen en onze paarden in het midden geplaatst hadden,\nkeurden zij dit sterk af, en zeiden dat het vijftig tegen een was, dat\nwij niet allen verscheurd waren geworden; want de wolven zijn vooral zoo\nverhit op paarden, maar anders zeer bang voor geweerschoten. Daar zij\nechter uitgehongerd waren, had de trek naar paardenvleesch hen het\ngevaar doen verachten, en zonder ons aanhoudend vuur en den loop\nbuskruid zouden wij hoogst waarschijnlijk allen verscheurd zijn. In\nallen geval zouden wij, als wij onze paarden in den steek hadden\ngelaten, en gezamenlijk afgetrokken waren, veilig hebben kunnen\naftrekken, vooral met onze vuurwapens en in zoo groot getal zijnde. Wat\nmij betreft, ik heb nimmer grooter gevaar onder de oogen gezien, want\ntoen ik driehonderd duivels huilende en met open muil op ons zag afkomen\nen geenerlei beschutting of veiligen aftogt voor ons zag, hield ik mij\nvoor verloren, en liever dan weder het gebergte over te trekken, zou ik\nduizend mijlen ter zee afleggen, al wist ik ook, dat ik alle weken een\nstorm zou moeten doorstaan.\nIk zou van mijne reis door Frankrijk niets kunnen mededeelen, dan\nhetgeen anderen beter v\u00f3\u00f3r mij gedaan hebben. Ik reisde van Toulouse\nnaar Parijs en kwam kort daarop te Calais en landde veilig te Dover den\n14 Januarij, na veel koude uitgestaan te hebben. Thans was mijn doel\nbereikt, en ik spoedig in het bezit van mijn sedert kort ontdekten\nrijkdom, daar de medegebragte wissels weldra allen betaald werden. Mijne\nvoornaamste raadsvrouw was thans weder de goede oude weduwe, die vol\ndankbaarheid voor het geld dat ik haar gezonden had, geene moeite of\nzorg te groot voor mij achtte, en daar ik op hare onkreukbare\neerlijkheid bouwen kon, kon ik haar gerust alles toevertrouwen.\nIk schreef thans aan mijn vriend in Lissabon over den verkoop mijner\nplantaadje, en op zijn raad bood ik die aan de zoons van mijne\ngemagtigden te koop aan. Deze namen mijn eisch aan, en deden mij door\neen bankier te Lissabon drie-en-dertig duizend stukken van achten\ndaarvoor toekomen, terwijl de lijfrente van honderd moidores aan den\nkapitein en vijftig aan zijn zoon als eene grondrente ten laste van de\nplantaadje bleven.\nAldus eindigde het eerste deel van een wisselvallig leven, een blijk van\nde bestieringen der Voorzienigheid, en welks lotwisselingen zelden\nge\u00ebvenaard zijn. Dwaselijk begonnen, eindigde het gelukkiger dan eenig\ngedeelte van hetzelve mij reden gaf te verwachten.\nMen zou denken, dat ik in een toestand, zoo gezegend in alle opzigten,\nbuiten alle gevaren was, en dit zou ook zoo geweest zijn als ik niet tot\neen zwervend leven bestemd was geweest. Ik had vrouw noch kinderen,\nweinig bloedverwanten, en hoezeer rijk, weinig bekenden, en schoon ik\nmijne plantaadje verkocht had, lag Brazili\u00eb mij nog altijd in het hoofd.\nNog meer verlangde ik mijn eiland weder te zien en te vernemen of de\narme Spanjaards daar gekomen, en hoe zij door de daar achtergelaten\nschurken behandeld waren.\nDe ernstige raadgevingen der weduwe we\u00earhielden mij zeven jaren lang\nhiervan, gedurende welken tijd ik twee neven, kinderen van een mijner\nbroeders, naar mij nam. De oudste, die eenig vermogen bezat, voedde ik\nals een heer op, en vermaakte hem een deel van mijne bezittingen; den\njongste gaf ik aan een scheepskapitein mede, en toen hij na vijf jaren\neen knap, bedaard en ondernemend jongman was, plaatste ik hem op een\nschip als kapitein, en zond hem naar zee. Deze jonge knaap verlokte mij\nnaderhand, zoo oud als ik was, tot verdere avonturen.\nMiddelerwijl had ik mij in Engeland nedergezet, en was in het huwelijk\ngetreden, en dat zeer tot mijn genoegen, want mijne vrouw schonk mij\ntwee zonen en eene dochter. Maar mijne vrouw stierf, en mijn neef kwam\nterug van eene voorspoedige reis naar Spanje, en mijne neiging en zijn\naanhouden verlokten mij, om als koopman naar Oost-Indi\u00eb scheep te gaan.\nDit was in 1694.\nOp deze reis bezocht ik mijne nieuwe kolonie, zag mijne opvolgers, de\nSpanjaarden, vernam hunne geheele geschiedenis en die van de\nachtergelaten kerels; hoe zij eerst de Spanjaards plaagden, daarna vrede\nmaakten, weder twist zochten, dien bijlegden en weder hernieuwden, tot\neindelijk de Spanjaarden, tot geweld genoodzaakt, hen aan zich\nonderwierpen; hoe goed zij door deze behandeld werden; een verhaal even\nbuitengewoon als mijn eigen leven; vooral van hunne gevechten met de\nCara\u00efben, die verscheidene malen op het eiland landden; de verbeteringen\ndoor hen daarop gemaakt, en hoe vijf hunner een togt naar het vasteland\ndeden, en elf mannen en vijf vrouwen als gevangenen medebragten, waarvan\nhet gevolg was, dat ik bij mijne komst een twintigtal jonge kinderen op\nhet eiland vond.\nIk bleef er ongeveer twintig dagen, en liet hen allerlei\nnoodwendigheden, vooral wapens, kruid en lood, gereedschappen, kleederen\nen twee handwerkslieden, een timmerman en een smid, die ik uit Engeland\nmedegebragt had. Voorts verdeelde ik het eiland onder hen, doch behield\nden eigendom van het geheel voor mij, en na alles met hen geschikt en\nhen verzocht te hebben het eiland niet te verlaten, verliet ik hen.\nDaarop deed ik Brazili\u00eb aan, vanwaar ik met een daar gekocht scheepje,\nbehalve vele andere zaken, hun zeven vrouwen toezond, hetzij als\ndienstboden of om als echtgenooten te nemen. Den Engelschen beloofde ik\neenige wouwen uit Engeland te zullen zenden, als zij daar wilden\nblijven, hetgeen mij later niet mogelijk was. Deze knapen gedroegen zich\nzeer goed nu zij onder strenge tucht stonden. Ook zond ik hun uit\nBrazili\u00eb vijf koeijen, waarvan drie kalven moesten, eenige schapen en\nvarkens, die bij mijne wederkomst zich aanmerkelijk vermeerderd hadden.\nDoch dit alles, en hoe driehonderd Cara\u00efben het eiland overvielen, hen\neerst versloegen, \u00e9\u00e9n hunner doodden, en hunne aanplantingen vernielden;\ndoch hoe later een storm des vijands kanoes vernielde, deze door honger\nen hunne geweren gedood werden, en zij weder in het bezit van het\neiland geraakten; dit alles, met nog eenige buitengewone lotgevallen\nvan mijzelven, gedurende nog tien jaren, zal ik misschien later\nverhalen.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Het leven en de lotgevallen van Robinson Crusoe, t. 1\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs and the Online Distributed\nSteven Gibbs (1938-2009).\n[Transcriber's Note: This e-book, a pamphlet by Daniel Defoe, was\noriginally published in 1713, and was prepared from _The Novels and\nMiscellaneous Works of Daniel De Foe_, vol. 6 (London: Henry G. Bohn,\n1855). Archaic spellings have been retained as they appear in the\noriginal, and obvious printer errors have been corrected without\nnote.]\nREASONS\nAGAINST THE\nSUCCESSION\nOF THE\n_HOUSE of HANOVER_,\nWITH AN\nENQUIRY\nHow far the Abdication of King _James_, supposing it to be Legal,\nought to affect the Person of the\nPRETENDER.\n_Si Populus vult Decipi, Decipiatur._\n_LONDON:_\nPrinted for _J. Baker_, at the _Black-Boy_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_,\nREASONS\nAGAINST\nTHE SUCCESSION, &c.\nWhat strife is here among you all? And what a noise about who shall or\nshall not be king, the Lord knows when? Is it not a strange thing we\ncannot be quiet with the queen we have, but we must all fall into\nconfusion and combustions about who shall come after? Why, pray folks,\nhow old is the queen, and when is she to die? that here is this pother\nmade about it. I have heard wise people say the queen is not fifty\nyears old, that she has no distemper but the gout, that that is a\nlong-life disease, which generally holds people out twenty, or thirty,\nor forty years; and let it go how it will, the queen may well enough\nlinger out twenty or thirty years, and not be a huge old wife neither.\nNow, what say the people, must we think of living twenty or thirty\nyears in this wrangling condition we are now in? This would be a\ntorment worse than some of the Egyptian plagues, and would be\nintolerable to bear, though for fewer years than that. The animosities\nof this nation, should they go on, as it seems they go on now, would\nby time become to such a height, that all charity, society, and mutual\nagreement among us, will be destroyed. Christians shall we be called!\nNo; nothing of the people called Christians will be to be found among\nus. Nothing of Christianity, or the substance of Christianity, viz.,\ncharity, will be found among us! The name Christian may be assumed,\nbut it will be all hypocrisy and delusion; the being of Christianity\nmust be lost in the fog, and smoke, and stink, and noise, and rage,\nand cruelty, of our quarrel about a king. Is this rational? Is it\nagreeable to the true interest of the nation? What must become of\ntrade, of religion, of society, of relation, of families, of people?\nWhy, hark ye, you folk that call yourselves rational, and talk of\nhaving souls, is this a token of your having such things about you, or\nof thinking rationally; if you have, pray what is it likely will\nbecome of you all? Why, the strife is gotten into your kitchens, your\nparlours, your shops, your counting-houses, nay, into your very beds.\nYou gentlefolks, if you please to listen to your cookmaids and footmen\nin your kitchens, you shall hear them scolding, and swearing, and\nscratching, and fighting among themselves; and when you think the\nnoise is about the beef and the pudding, the dishwater, or the\nkitchen-stuff, alas, you are mistaken; the feud is about the more\nmighty affairs of the government, and who is for the protestant\nsuccession, and who for the pretender. Here the poor despicable\nscullions learn to cry, High Church, No Dutch Kings, No Hanover, that\nthey may do it dexterously when they come into the next mob. Here\ntheir antagonists of the dripping-pan practise the other side clamour,\nNo French Peace, No Pretender, No Popery. The thing is the very same\nup one pair of stairs: in the shops and warehouses the apprentices\nstand some on one side of the shop, and some on the other, (having\ntrade little enough), and there they throw high church and low church\nat one another's heads like battledore and shuttlecock; instead of\nposting their books, they are fighting and railing at the pretender\nand the house of Hanover; it were better for us certainly that these\nthings had never been heard of. If we go from the shop one story\nhigher into our family, the ladies, instead of their innocent sports\nand diversions, they are all falling out one among another; the\ndaughters and the mother, the mothers and the daughters; the children\nand the servants; nay, the very little sisters one among another. If\nthe chambermaid is a slattern, and does not please, Hang her, she is a\njade; or, I warrant she is a highflier; or, on the other side, I\nwarrant she is a whig; I never knew one of that sort good for anything\nin my life. Nay, go to your very bed-chambers, and even in bed the man\nand wife shall quarrel about it. People! people! what will become of\nyou at this rate? If ye cannot set man and wife together, nor your\nsons and daughters together, nay, nor your servants together, how will\nye set your horses together, think ye? And how shall they stand\ntogether twenty or thirty years, think ye, if the queen should live so\nlong? Before that time comes, if you are not reduced to your wits, you\nwill be stark mad; so that unless you can find in your hearts to agree\nabout this matter beforehand, the condition you are in, and by that\ntime will in all likelihood be in, will ruin us all; and this is one\nsufficient reason why we should say nothing, and do nothing about the\nsuccession, but just let it rest where it is, and endeavour to be\nquiet; for it is impossible to live thus. Further, if Hanover should\ncome while we are in such a condition, we shall ruin him, or he us,\nthat is most certain. It remains to inquire what will be the issue of\nthings. Why, first, if ye will preserve the succession, and keep it\nright, you must settle the peace of the nation: we are not in a\ncondition to stand by the succession now, and if we go on we shall be\nworse able to do so; in his own strength Hanover does not pretend to\ncome, and if he did he must miscarry: if not in his own, in whose then\nbut the people of Britain? And if the people be a weakened, divided,\nand deluded people, and see not your own safety to lie in your\nagreement among yourselves, how shall such weak folk assist him,\nespecially against a strong enemy; so that it will be your destruction\nto attempt to bring in the house of Hanover, unless you can stand by\nand defend him when he is come; this will make you all like Monmouth's\nmen in the west, and you will find yourselves lifted up to halters and\ngibbets, not to places and preferments. Unless you reconcile\nyourselves to one another, and bring things to some better pass among\nthe common people, it will be but to banter yourselves to talk of the\nprotestant succession; for you neither will be in a condition to bring\nover your protestant successor, or to support him on the throne when\nyou have brought him; and it will not be denied, but to make the\nattempt, and not succeed in it, is to ruin yourselves; and this I\nthink a very good reason against the succession of the house of\nHanover.\nAnother argument relates something to the family of Hanover itself.\nHere the folk are continually fighting and quarrelling with one\nanother to such a degree as must infallibly weaken and disable the\nwhole body of the nation, and expose them to any enemy, foreign or\ndomestic. What prince, think you, will venture his person with a party\nor a faction, and that a party crushed, and under the power of their\nenemy; a party who have not been able to support themselves or their\ncause, how shall they support and defend him when he comes? And if\nthey cannot be in a posture to defend and maintain him when they have\nhim, how shall he be encouraged to venture himself among them? To come\nover and make the attempt here according to his just claim and the\nlaws of the land, would be indeed his advantage, if there was a\nprobability that he should succeed; otherwise the example of the king\nof Poland is sufficient to warn him against venturing while the nation\nis divided, and together by the ears, as they are here. The whole\nkingdom of Poland, we see, could not defend King Augustus against the\nSwedes and their pretender; but though he had the majority, and was\nreceived as king over the whole kingdom, yet it being a kingdom\ndivided into factions and parties, and those parties raging with\nbitter envy and fury one against another, even just as ours do here,\nwhat came of it but the ruin of King Augustus, who was as it were a\nprisoner in his own court, and was brought to the necessity of\nabdicating the crown of Poland, and of acknowledging the title of the\npretender to that crown. Now, what can the elector of Hanover expect,\nif he should make the attempt here while we are in this divided\nfactious condition,--while the pretender, backed by his party at home,\nshall also have the whole power of France to support him, and place\nhim upon the throne?\nLet us but look back to a time when the very same case almost fell out\nin this nation; the same many ways it was, that is, in the case of\nQueen Mary I., your bloody papist persecuting Queen Mary and the Lady\nJane Dudley, or Grey. The late King Edward VI. had settled the\nprotestant succession upon the Lady Jane; it was received universally\nas the protestant succession is now. The reasons which moved the\npeople to receive it were the same, _i.e._, the safety of the\nprotestant religion, and the liberties and properties of the people;\nall the great men of King Edward's court and council came readily into\nthis succession, and gave their oaths, or what was in those days\n(whatsoever it may be now) thought equal to an oath, viz., their\nhonour, for the standing by the successor in her taking possession of\nher said just right. Mary, daughter of Catherine of Spain, was the\npretender; her mother was abdicated (so we call it in this age),\nrepudiated, they called it, or divorced. Her daughter was adjudged\nillegitimate or spurious, because the marriage of her mother was\nesteemed unlawful; just as our pretender is by this nation suggested\nspurious, by reason of the yet unfolded mysteries of his birth. Again,\nthat pretender had the whole power of Spain, which was then the most\ndreaded of any in the world, and was just what the French are now,\nviz., the terror of Europe. If Queen Mary was to have the crown, it\nwas allowed by all that England was to be governed by Spanish\ncouncils, and Spanish maxims, Spanish money, and Spanish cruelty. Just\nas we say now of the pretender, that if he was to come in we shall be\nall governed by French maxims, French councils, French money, and\nFrench tyranny. In these things the pretender (Mary) at that time was\nthe parallel to our pretender now, and that with but very little\ndifference. Besides all this, she was a papist, which was directly\ncontrary to the pious design of King Edward in propagating the\nreformation. Exactly agreeing these things were with our succession,\nour pretender, our King William, and his design, by settling the\nsuccession for the propagating the revolution, which is the\nreformation of this day, as the reformation was the revolution of that\nday. After this formal settling of the succession the king (as kings\nand queens must) dies, and the lords of the council, as our law calls\nthem, they were the same thing, suppose lords justices, they meet and\nproclaim their protestant successor, as they were obliged to do; and\nwhat followed? Had they been unanimous, had they stuck to one another,\nhad they not divided into parties, high and low, they had kept their\nprotestant successor in spite of all the power of Spain, but they fell\nout with one another; high protestants against low protestants! and\nwhat was the consequence? One side to ruin the other brought in the\npretender upon them, and so Spanish power, as it was predicted, came\nin upon them, and devoured them all. Popery came in, as they feared,\nand all went to ruin; and what came of the protestant successor? Truly\nthey brought her to ruin. For first bringing her in, and then, by\nreason of their own strife and divisions, not being able to maintain\nher in the possession of that crown, which at their request she had\ntaken, she fell into her enemies' hand, was made a sacrifice to their\nfury, and brought to the block. What can be a more lively\nrepresentation of our case now before us? He must have small sense of\nthe state of our case, I think, who in our present circumstances can\ndesire the Hanover succession should take place. What! would you bring\nover the family of Hanover to have them murdered? No, no, those that\nhave a true value for the house of Hanover, would by no means desire\nthem to come hither, or desire you to bring them on such terms; first\nlet the world see you are in a condition to support and defend them,\nthat the pretender, and his power and alliances of any kind, shall not\ndisperse and ruin him and you together; first unite and put yourselves\ninto a posture that you may defend the succession, and then you may\nhave it; but as it stands now, good folks, consider with yourselves\nwhat prince in Europe will venture among us, and who that has any\nrespect or value for the house of Hanover can desire them to come\nhither.\nThese are some good reasons why the succession of the house of Hanover\nshould not be our present view. Another reason may be taken from the\nexample of the good people in the days of King Edward VI. They were\nvery good, religious people, that must be allowed by all sides, and\nwho had very great zeal for the protestant religion and the\nreformation, as it was then newly established among them; and this\nzeal of theirs appeared plainly in a degree we can scarce hope for\namong the protestants of this age, viz., in their burning for it\nafterwards; yet such was their zeal for the hereditary right of their\nroyal family, that they chose to fall into the hands of Spanish\ntyranny, and of Spanish popery, and let the protestant religion and\nthe hopes of its establishment go to the d----l, rather than not have\nthe right line of their princes kept up, and the eldest daughter of\ntheir late King Henry come to the crown. Upon this principle they\nforsook their good reforming King Edward's scheme, rejected the\nprotestant succession, and they themselves, protestants, sincere\nprotestants, such as afterwards died at a stake for their religion,\nthe protestant religion; yet they brought in the pretender according\nto their principles, and run the risk of what could follow thereupon.\nWhy should we think it strange, then, that protestants now in this\nage, and Church of England protestants too, should be for a popish\npretender? No doubt but they may be as good protestants as the\nSuffolk men in Queen Mary's time were, and if they are brought to it,\nwill go as far, and die at a stake for the protestant religion, and in\ndoing this, no doubt, but it is their real prospect to die at a stake,\nor they would not do it to be sure. Now the protestant religion, the\nwhole work of reformation, the safety of the nation, both as to their\nliberties and religion, the keeping out French or Spanish popery, the\ndying at a stake, and the like, being always esteemed things of much\nless value than the faithful adhering to the divine rule of keeping\nthe crown in the right line, let any true protestant tell me, how can\nwe pretend to be for the Hanover succession? It is evident that the\ndivine hereditary right of our crown is the main great article now in\ndebate. You call such a man the pretender, but is he not the son of\nour king? And if so, what is the protestant religion to us? Had we not\nmuch better be papists than traitors? Had we not much better deny our\nGod, our baptism, our religion, and our lives, than deny our lawful\nprince, our next male in a right line? If popery comes, passive\nobedience is still our friend; we are protestants; we can die, we can\nburn, we can do anything but rebel; and this being our first duty,\nviz., to recognise our rightful sovereign, are we not to do that\nfirst? And if popery or slavery follow, we must act as becomes us.\nThis being then orthodox doctrine, is equally a substantial reason why\nwe should be against the Hanover succession.\nThere may be sundry other reasons given why we should not be for this\nnew establishment of the succession, which, though perhaps they may\nnot seem so cogent in themselves, have yet a due force, as they stand\nrelated to other circumstances, which this nation is at present\ninvolved in, and therefore are only left to the consideration of the\npeople of these times. No question but every honest Briton is for a\npeaceable succession; now, if the pretender comes, and is quietly\nestablished on the throne, why then you know there is an end of all\nour fears of the great and formidable power of France; we have no more\nneed to fear an invasion, or the effects of leaving France in a\ncondition by the peace to act against us; and put the pretender upon\nus; and therefore, peace being of so much consequence to this nation,\nafter so long and so cruel a war, none can think of entering upon a\nnew war for the succession without great regret and horror. Now, it\ncannot be doubted but the succession of Hanover would necessarily\ninvolve us again in a war against France, and that perhaps when we may\nbe in no good case to undertake it, for these reasons:--1. Perhaps\nsome princes and states in the world by that time, seeing the great\nincrease and growth of French power, may think fit to change their\nsentiments, and rather come over to that interest for want of being\nsupported before, than be willing to embark against France, and so it\nmay not be possible to obtain a new confederacy in the degree and\nextent of it, which we have seen it in, or in any degree suitable to\nthe power of France; and if so, there may be but small hopes of\nsuccess in case of a new rupture; and any war had better be let alone\nthan be carried on to loss, which often ends in the overthrow of the\nparty or nation who undertake it, and fails in the carrying it on. 2.\nFrance itself, as well by the acquisition of those princes who may\nhave changed sides, as above, as by a time for taking breath after the\nlosses they have received, may be raised to a condition of superior\nstrength, and may be too much an overmatch for us to venture upon; and\nif he thinks fit to send us the person we call the pretender, and\norder us to take him for our king, and this when we are in no\ncondition to withstand him, prudence will guide us to accept of him;\nfor all people comply with what they cannot avoid; and if we are not\nin a condition to keep him out, there wants very little consultation\nupon the question, whether we shall take him in, or no? Like this is a\nman, who being condemned to be hanged, and is in irons in the dungeon\nat Newgate, when he sees no possibility either of pardon from the\nqueen, or escape out of prison, what does he resolve upon next? What!\nwhy he resolves to die. What should he resolve on? Everybody submits\nto what they cannot escape. People! people! if ye cannot resist the\nFrench king, ye must submit to a French pretender. There is no more to\nbe said about that. 3. Then some allies, who it might be thought would\nbe able to lend you some help in such a case as this is, may pretend\nto be disgusted at former usage, and say they were abandoned and\nforsaken in their occasion by us, and they will not hazard for a\nnation who disobliged them so much before, and from whom they have not\nreceived suitable returns for the debt of the revolution. And if these\nnations should take things so ill as to refuse their aid and\nassistance in a case of so much necessity as that of the succession,\nhow shall we be able to maintain that attempt? And, as before, an\nattempt of that, or any other kind like that, is better unmade than\nineffectually made. 4. Others add a yet farther reason of our probable\ninability in such a case, viz., that the enemies of Britain have so\nmisrepresented things to some of the neighbouring nations, our good\nfriends and allies, as if we Britons had betrayed the protestant\ninterest, and not acted faithfully to our confederacies and alliances,\nin which our reputation, it is pretended, has suffered so much, as not\nto merit to be trusted again in like cases, or that it should be safe\nto depend upon our most solemn engagements. This, though it is\ninvidious and harsh, yet if there may be any truth in it, as we hope\nthere is not, may be added as a very good reason, why, after this war\nis over, we may be in no good case at all to undertake or to carry on\na new war in defence of the new protestant succession, when it may\ncome to be necessary so to do. Since, then, the succession of Hanover\nwill necessarily involve us in a new war against France, and for the\nreasons above, if they are allowed to be good reasons, we may not be\nin a condition to carry on that war, is not this a good reason why we\nshould not in our present circumstances be for that succession? Other\nreasons may be taken from the present occasion the nation may lie\nunder of preserving and securing the best administration of things\nthat ever this nation was under in many ages; and if this be found to\nbe inconsistent with the succession of Hanover, as some feign, it is\nhoped none will say but we ought to consider what we do; if the\nsuccession of Hanover is not consistent with these things, what reason\nhave we to be for the said succession, till that posture of things be\narrived when that inconsistency may be removed? And now, people of\nBritain! be your own judges upon what terms you can think it\nreasonable to insist any longer upon this succession. I do not contend\nthat it is not a lawful succession, a reasonable succession, an\nestablished succession, nay, a sworn succession; but if it be not a\npracticable succession, and cannot be a peaceable succession; if peace\nwill not bring him in, and war cannot, what must we do? It were much\nbetter not to have it at all, than to have it and ruin the kingdom,\nand ruin those that claim it at the same time.\nBut yet I have other reasons than these, and more cogent ones; learned\nmen say, some diseases in nature are cured by antipathies, and some\nby sympathies; that the enemies of nature are the best preservatives\nof nature; that bodies are brought down by the skill of the physician\nthat they may the better be brought up, made sick to be made well, and\ncarried to the brink of the grave in order to be kept from the grave;\nfor these reasons, and in order to these things, poisons are\nadministered for physic; or amputations in surgery, the flesh is cut\nthat it may heal; an arm laid open that it may close with safety; and\nthese methods of cure are said to be the most certain as well as most\nnecessary in those particular cases, from whence it is become a\nproverbial saying in physic, desperate diseases must have desperate\nremedies. Now it is very proper to inquire in this case whether the\nnation is not in such a state of health at this time, that the coming\nof the pretender may not be of absolute necessity, by way of cure of\nsuch national distempers which now afflict us, and that an effectual\ncure can be wrought no other way? If upon due inquiry it should appear\nthat we are not fit to receive such a prince as the successor of the\nhouse of Hanover is, that we should maltreat and abuse him if he were\nhere, and that there is no way for us to learn the true value of a\nprotestant successor so well as by tasting a little what a popish\npretender is, and feeling something of the great advantages that may\naccrue to us by the superiority of a Jacobite party; if the disease of\nstupidity has so far seized us that we are to be cured only by poisons\nand fermentations; if the wound is mortified, and nothing but deep\nincisions, amputations, and desperate remedies must be used; if it\nshould be necessary thus to teach us the worth of things by the want\nof them; and there is no other way to bring the nation to its senses;\nwhy, what can be then said against the pretender? Even let him come\nthat we may see what slavery means, and may inquire how the chains of\nFrench galleys hang about us, and how easy wooden shoes are to walk\nin; for no experience teaches so well as that we buy dearest, and pay\nfor with the most smart.\nI think this may pass for a very good reason against the protestant\nsuccession; nothing is surer than that the management of King Charles\nII. and his late brother, were the best ways the nation could ever\nhave taken to bring to pass the happy revolution; yet these\nafflictions to the island were not joyous, but grievous, for the time\nthey remained, and the poor kingdoms suffered great convulsions; but\nwhat weighs that if these convulsions are found to be necessary to a\ncure? If the physicians prescribe a vomit for the cure of any\nparticular distemper, will the patient complain of being made sick?\nNo, no; when you begin to be sick, then we say, Oh, that is right, and\nthen the vomit begins to work; and how shall the island of Britain\nspew out all the dregs and filth the public digesture has contracted,\nif it be not made sick with some French physic? If you give good\nnourishing food upon a foul stomach, you cause that wholesome food to\nturn into filth, and instead of nourishing the man, it nourishes\ndiseases in the man, till those diseases prove his destruction, and\nbring him to the grave. In like manner, if you will bring the\nprotestant successor into the government before that government have\ntaken some physic to cleanse it from the ill digesture it may have\nbeen under, how do we know but the diseases which are already begun in\nthe constitution may not be nourished and kept up, till they may\nhereafter break out in the days of our posterity, and prove mortal to\nthe nation. Wherefore should we desire the protestant successor to\ncome in upon a foot of high-flying menage, and be beholden for their\nestablishment to those who are the enemies of the constitution? Would\nnot this be to have in time to come the successors of that house be\nthe same thing as the ages passed have already been made sick of, and\nmade to spew out of the government? Are not any of these\nconsiderations enough to make any of us averse to the protestant\nsuccession? No, no; let us take a French vomit first, and make us\nsick, that we may be well, and may afterwards more effectually have\nour health established.\nThe pretender will no doubt bring us good medicines, and cure us of\nall our hypochondriac vapours that now make us so giddy. But, say\nsome, he will bring popery in upon us; popery, say you! alas! it is\ntrue, popery is a sad thing, and that, say some folk, ought to have\nbeen thought on before now; but suppose then this thing called popery!\nHow will it come in? Why, say the honest folk, the pretender is a\npapist, and if a popish prince come upon the throne we shall have\npopery come in upon us without fail. Well, well, and what hurt will\nthis be to you? May not popery be very good in its kind? What if this\npopery, like the vomit made of poison, be the only physic that can\ncure you? If this vomit make you spew out your filth, your tory filth,\nyour idolatrous filth, your tyrannic filth, and restore you to your\nhealth, shall it not be good for you? Where pray observe in the\nallegory of physic; you heard before when you take a vomit, the physic\ngiven you to vomit is always something contrary to nature, something\nthat if taken in quantity would destroy; but how does it operate? It\nattacks nature, and puts her upon a ferment to cast out what offends\nher; but remark it, I pray, when the patient vomits, he always vomits\nup the physic and the filth together; so, if the nation should take a\nvomit of popery, as when the pretender comes most certain it is that\nthis will be the consequence, they will vomit up the physic and the\nfilth together; the popery and the pretender will come all up again,\nand all the popish, arbitrary, tyrannical filth, which has offended\nthe stomach of the nation so long, and ruined its digesture, it will\nall come up together; one vomit of popery will do us all a great deal\nof good, for the stomach of the constitution is marvellous foul.\nObserve, people! this is no new application; the nation has taken a\nvomit of this kind before now, as in Queen Mary I.'s time; the\nreformation was not well chewed, and being taken down whole, did not\nrightly digest, but left too much crudity in the stomach, from whence\nproceeded ill nourishment, bad blood, and a very ill habit of body in\nthe constitution; witness the distemper which seized the Gospellers in\nSuffolk, who being struck with an epilepsy or dead palsy in the better\nhalf of their understanding, to wit, the religious and zealous part,\ntook up arms for a popish pretender, against the protestant successor,\nupon the wild-headed whimsey of the right line being _jure divino_.\nWell, what followed, I pray? Why, they took a vomit of popery; the\npotion indeed was given in a double vehicle, viz., of fagots a little\ninflamed, and this worked so effectually, that the nation having\nvomited, brought up all the filth of the stomach, and the foolish\nnotion of hereditary right, spewed out popery also along with it. Thus\nwas popery, and fire and fagot, the most effectual remedy to cure the\nnation of all its simple diseases, and to settle and establish the\nprotestant reformation; and why then should we be so terrified with\nthe apprehensions of popery? Nay, why should we not open our eyes and\nsee how much to our advantage it may be in the next reign to have\npopery brought in, and to that end the pretender set up, that he may\nhelp us to this most useful dose of physic? These are some other of\nmy reasons against the protestant succession; I think they cannot be\nmended; it may perhaps be thought hard of that we should thus seem to\nmake light of so terrible a thing as popery, and should jest with the\naffair of the protestants; no, people! no; this is no jest,--taking\nphysic is no jest at all; for it is useful many ways, and there is no\nkeeping the body in health without it; for the corruption of politic\nconstitutions are as gross and as fatal as those of human bodies, and\nrequire as immediate application of medicines. And why should you\npeople of this country be so alarmed, and seem so afraid of this thing\ncalled popery, when it is spoken of in intelligible terms, since you\nare not afraid alternately to put your hands to those things which as\nnaturally tend in themselves to bring it upon you, as clouds tend to\nrain, or smoke to fire; what does all your scandalous divisions, your\nunchristian quarrellings, your heaping up reproaches, and loading each\nother with infamy, and with abominable forgeries, what do these tend\nto but to popery? If it should be asked how have these any such\nreference? the question is most natural from the premises. If\ndivisions weaken the nation; if whig and tory, even united, are, and\nhave been, weak enough to keep out popery, surely then widening the\nunnatural breaches, and inflaming things between them to implacable\nand irreconcileable breaches, must tend to overthrow the protestant\nkingdom, which, as our ever blessed Saviour said, _when divided\nagainst itself cannot stand_. Besides, are not your breaches come up\nto that height already as to let any impartial bystander see that\npopery must be the consequences? Do not one party say openly, they had\nrather be papists than presbyterians; that they would rather go to\nmass than to a meeting-house; and are they not to that purpose, all of\nthem who are of that height, openly joined with the jacobites in the\ncause of popery? On the other hand, are not the presbyterians in\nScotland so exasperated at having the abjuration oath imposed upon\nthem, contrary, as they tell us, to their principles, that they care\nnot if he, or any else, would come now and free them from that yoke?\nWhat is all this but telling us plainly that the whole nation is\nrunning into popery and the pretender? Why then, while you are\nobliquely, and by consequences, joining your hands to bring in popery,\nwhy, O distracted folk! should you think it amiss to have me talk of\ndoing it openly and avowedly? Better is open enmity than secret\nguile; better is it to talk openly, and profess openly, for popery,\nthat you may see the shape and real picture of it, than pretend strong\nopposition of it, and be all at the same time putting your hands to\nthe work, and pulling it down upon yourselves with all your might.\nBut here comes an objection in our way, which, however weighty, we\nmust endeavour to get over, and this is, what becomes of the\nabjuration? If the pretender comes in we are all perjured, and we\nought to be all unanimous for the house of Hanover, because we are all\nperjured if we are for the pretender. Perjured, say ye! Ha! why, do\nall these people say we are perjured already? Nay, one, two, three, or\nfour times? What signify oaths and abjurations in a nation where the\nparliament can make an oath to-day, and punish a man for keeping it\nto-morrow! Besides, taking oaths without examination, and breaking\nthem without consideration, hath been so much a practice, and the date\nof its original is so far back, that none, or but very few, know where\nto look for it; nay, have we not been called in the vulgar dialect of\nforeign countries \"the swearing nation\"? Note, we do not say the\nforsworn nation; for whatever other countries say of us, it is not\nmeet we should say so of ourselves; but as to swearing and\nforswearing, associating and abjuring, there are very few without sin\nto throw the first stone, and therefore we may be the less careful to\nanswer in this matter: it is evident that the friends of the pretender\ncannot blame us; for have not the most professed jacobites all over\nthe nation taken this abjuration? Nay, when even in their hearts they\nhave all the while resolved to be for the pretender? Not to instance\nin the swearing in all ages to and against governments, just as they\nwere or were not, in condition to protect us, or keep others out of\npossession; but we have a much better way to come off this than that,\nand we doubt not to clear the nation of perjury, by declaring the\ndesign, true intent, and meaning of the thing itself; for the good or\nevil of every action is said to lie in the intention; if then we can\nprove the bringing in the pretender to be done with a real intention\nand sincere desire to keep him out, or, as before, to spew him out; if\nwe bring in popery with an intention and a sincere design to establish\nthe protestant religion; if we bring in a popish prince with a single\ndesign the firmer and better to fix and introduce the protestant\nHanover succession; if, I say, these things are the true intent and\nmeaning, and are at the bottom of all our actions in this matter, pray\nhow shall we be said to be perjured, or to break in upon the\nabjuration, whose meaning we keep, whatever becomes of the literal\npart of it. Thus we are abundantly defended from the guilt of perjury,\nbecause we preserve the design and intention upright and entire for\nthe house of Hanover; though as the best means to bring it to pass we\nthink fit to bring in popery and the pretender: but yet farther, to\njustify the lawfulness and usefulness of such kind of methods, we may\ngo back to former experiments of the same case, or like cases, for\nnothing can illustrate such a thing so aptly, as the example of\neminent men who have practised the very same things in the same or\nlike cases, and more especially when that practice has been made use\nof by honest men in an honest cause, and the end been crowned with\nsuccess. This eminent example was first put in practice by the late\nfamous Earl of Sunderland, in the time of King James II., and that too\nin the case of bringing popery into England, which is the very\nindividual article before us. This famous politician, if fame lies\nnot, turned papist himself, went publicly to mass, advised and\ndirected all the forward rash steps that King James afterwards took\ntowards the introducing of popery into the nation; if he is not\nslandered, it was he advised the setting up of popish chapels and\nmass-houses in the city of London, and in the several principal towns\nof this nation; the invading the right of corporations, courts of\njustice, universities, and, at last, the erecting the high commission\ncourt, to sap the foundations of the church; and many more of the\narbitrary steps which that monarch took for the ruin of the protestant\nreligion, as he thought, were brought about by this politic earl,\npurely with design, and as the only effectual means to ruin the popish\nschemes, and bring about the establishment of the protestant religion\nby the revolution; and, as experience after made it good, he alone was\nin the right, and it was the only way left, the only step that could\nbe taken, though at first it made us all of the opinion the man was\ngoing the ready way to ruin his country, and that he was selling us to\npopery and Rome. This was exactly our case; the nation being sick of a\ndeadly, and otherwise incurable disease, this wise physician knew that\nnothing but a medicine made up of deadly poison, that should put the\nwhole body into convulsions, and make it cast up the dregs of the\nmalady, would have any effect; and so he applied himself accordingly\nto such a cure; he brought on popery to the very door; he caused the\nnation to swallow as much of it as he thought was enough to make her\nas sick as a horse, and then he foresaw she would spew up the disease\nand the medicine together; the potion of popery he saw would come up\nwith it, and so it did. If this be our case now, then it may be true\nthat bringing the pretender is the only way to establish the\nprotestant succession; and upon such terms, and such only, I declare\nmyself for the pretender. If any sort of people are against the\nsuccession of the house of Hanover on any other accounts, and for\nother reasons, it may not be amiss to know some of them, and a little\nto recommend them to those who have a mind to be for him, but well\nknow not wherefore or why they are so inclined. 1. Some being\ninstructed to have an aversion to all foreign princes or families, are\nagainst the succession of the princes of Hanover, because, as they are\ntaught to say, they are Dutchmen; now, though it might as well be said\nof the pretender that he is a Frenchman, yet that having upon many\naccounts been made more familiar to them of late, and the name of a\nDutch king having a peculiar odium left upon it, by the grievances of\nthe late King William's reign, they can by no means think of another\nDutch succession without abhorrence; nay, the aversion is so much\ngreater than their aversions to popery, that they can with much more\nsatisfaction entertain the notion of a popish French pretender than of\nthe best protestant in the world, if he hath anything belonging to him\nthat sounds like a Dutchman; and this is some people's reason against\nthe Hanover succession; a reason which has produced various effects in\nthe world since the death of that prince, even to creating national\nantipathies in some people to the whole people of Holland, and to wish\nus involved in a war with the Dutch without any foundation of a\nquarrel with them, or any reason for those aversions; but these things\nopening a scene which relates to things farther back than the subject\nwe are now upon, we omit them here for brevity sake, and to keep more\nclosely to the thing in hand at this time. Others have aversions to\nthe Hanover succession as it is the effect of the revolution, and as\nit may reasonably be supposed to favour such principles as the\nrevolution was brought about by, and has been the support of, viz.,\nprinciples of liberty, justice, rights of parliaments, the people's\nliberties, free possession of property, and such like; these\ndoctrines, a certain party in this nation have always to their utmost\nopposed, and have given us reason to believe they hate and abhor them,\nand for this reason they cannot be supposed to appear forward for the\nHanover succession; to these principles have been opposed the more\nfamous doctrines of passive obedience, absolute will, indefeasible\nright, the _jus divinum_ of the line of princes, hereditary right, and\nsuch like; these, as preached up by that eminent divine, Dr. Henry\nSacheverell, are so much preferable to the pretences of liberty and\nconstitution, the old republican notions of the whigs, that they\ncannot but fill these people with hatred against all those that would\npretend to maintain the foundation we now stand upon, viz., the\nrevolution; and this is their reason against the Hanover succession,\nwhich they know would endeavour to do so.\nCome we in the conclusion of this great matter to one great and main\nreason, which they say prevails with a great part of the nation at\nthis time to be for the pretender, and which many subtle heads and\nindustrious hands are now busily employed all over the kingdom to\nimprove in the minds of the common people, this is the opinion of the\nlegitimacy of the birth of the pretender; it seems, say these men,\nthat the poor commons of Britain have been all along imposed upon to\nbelieve that the person called the pretender was a spurious birth, a\nchild fostered upon the nation by the late king and queen; this\ndelusion was carried on, say they, by the whigs in King William's\ntime, and a mighty stir was made of it to possess the rabbles in\nfavour of the revolution, but nothing was ever made of it; King\nWilliam, say they, promised in his declaration to have it referred to\nthe decision of the English parliament, but when he obtained the crown\nhe never did anything that way more than encourage the people to\nspread the delusion by scurrilous pamphlets to amuse the poor commons;\nhave them take a thing for granted which could have no other thing\nmade of it; and so the judging of it in parliament was made a sham\nonly; and the people drinking in the delusion, as they who were in the\nplot desired, it has passed ever since as if the thing had been\nsufficiently proved. Now upon a more sedate considering the matter,\nsay they, the case is clear that this person is the real son of King\nJames, and the favourers of the revolution go now upon another\nfoundation, viz., the powers of parliaments to limit the succession;\nand that succession being limited upon King James's abdication, which\nthey call voluntary; so that now, say they, the question about the\nlegitimacy of the person called the pretender is over, and nothing now\nis to be said of it; that he is the son of King James, there is, say\nthey, no more room to doubt, and therefore the doctrine of hereditary\nright taking place, as the ancient professed doctrine of the Church of\nEngland, there can be no objection against his being our lawful king;\nand it is contrary to the said Church of England doctrine to deny it.\nThis, then, is the present reason which the poor ignorant people are\ntaught to give why they are against the protestant succession, and why\nthey are easily persuaded to come into the new scheme of a popish\npretender, though at the same time they are all heartily against\npopery as much as ever.\nIt becomes necessary now to explain this case a little to the\nunderstanding of the common people, and let them know upon what\nfoundation the right of these two parties is founded, and if this be\ndone with plainness and clearness, as by the rights and laws of\nEnglishmen and Britons appertaineth, the said commons of Britain may\nsoon discover whether the succession of the house of Hanover, or the\nclaim of the person called the pretender, is founded best, and which\nthey ought to adhere unto. The first thing it seems to be made clear\nto the common people is, whether the pretender was the lawful son of\nKing James, yea, or no? And why the contrary to this was not made\nappear, according to the promises which, they say, though falsely,\nwere made by the late King William? In the first place is to be\nconsidered, that the declaration of the said king, when P. of O.\nputting the said case in the modestest manner possible, had this\nexpression, That there were violent suspicions that the said person\nwas not born of the queen's body, and that the prince resolved to\nleave the same to the free parliament, to which throughout the said\ndeclaration the said prince declared himself ready to refer all the\ngrievances which he came over to redress. I shall give you this in the\nwords of a late learned author upon that head.\nThat before a free parliament could be obtained, King James withdrew\nhimself, and carried away his pretended son into the hands of the\nancient enemies of this nation, and of our religion, viz., the French,\nthere to be educated in the principles of enmity to this his native\ncountry.\nBy which action he not only declined to refer the legitimacy of his\nsaid son to the examination of the parliament, as the Prince of Orange\nhad offered in his said declaration, but made such examination\naltogether useless and impracticable, he himself (King James) not\nowning it to be a legal parliament, and therefore not consenting to\nstand by such examination.\nBy the said abdication, and carrying away his said pretended son into\nthe hands of the French to be educated in popery, &c., he gave the\nparliament of England and Scotland abundant reason for ever to exclude\nthe said King James and his said pretended son from the government of\nthese realms, or from the succession to the same, and made it\nabsolutely necessary for them to do so, if they would secure the\nprotestant religion to themselves and their posterity; and this\nwithout any regard to the doubt, whether he was the lawful son of King\nJames, or no, since it is inconsistent with the constitution of this\nprotestant nation to be governed by a popish prince.\nThe proof of the legitimacy being thus stated, and all the violent\nsuspicions of his not being born of the queen being thus confirmed by\nthe abdication of King James, come we next to examine how far this\nabdication could forfeit for this pretender, supposing him to be the\nreal son of King James; this returns upon the right of the parliament\nto limit the succession, supposing King James had had no son at all;\nif the abdication be granted a lawfully making the throne vacant, it\nwill be very hard to assign a cause why the parliament might not name\na successor while the father was alive, whose right had no violent\nsuspicions attending it, and not why they might not name a successor\nthough the son was living; that the father's abdication forfeited for\nthe son is no part of the question before us; for the father is not\nsaid to forfeit his right at all; no one ever questioned his right to\nreign, nor, had he thought fit to have stayed, could the parliament\nhave named a successor, unless, as in the case of Richard II., he had\nmade a voluntary resignation or renunciation of the crown, and of his\npeople's allegiance; but the king having voluntarily abdicated the\nthrone, this was as effectual a releasing his subjects from their\nallegiance to him, as if he had read an instrument of resignation,\njust as King Richard did; all the articles of such a resignation were\nnaturally contained in the said abdication, except the naming the\nsuccessor, as effectually as if they had been at large repeated; and\nsince the resigning the crown has been formerly practised in England,\nand there is so eminent an example in our English history of the same,\nit will questionless be of use to the reader of these sheets to have\nthe particulars of it before his eyes, which for that purpose is here\nset down at large, as it was done in the presence of a great number of\nEnglish peers, who attended the king for that purpose, and is as\nfollows:--\n_In the name of God, Amen. I Richard, by the grace of God, King of\nEngland and France, and Lord of Ireland, do hereby acquit and\ndischarge all Archbishops, Bishops, Dukes, Marquisses, and Earls,\nBarons, Lords, and all other my subjects, both spiritual and secular,\nof what degree soever, from their oath of fealty and homage, and all\nother bonds of allegiance, to me due from them and their heirs, and do\nhereby release them from the said oath and allegiance, so far as they\nconcern my person, for ever._\n_I also resign all my kingly majesty and dignity, with all the rights\nand privileges thereunto belonging, and do renounce all the title and\nclaim which I ever had, or have, to them. I also renounce the\ngovernment of the said kingdom, and the name and royal highness\nthereunto belonging, freely and wholly, and swearing upon the\nEvangelists that I will never oppose this my voluntary resignation,\nnor suffer it to be opposed, as judging myself not unworthily deposed\nfrom my regal dignity for my deserts._\nThis resignation being read again in parliament, they grounded the\ndeposing King Richard upon it, and declared him accordingly deposed,\nthat is, declared the throne vacant; and immediately, by virtue of\ntheir own undoubted right of limiting the succession, named the\nsuccessor. See the form in the history of that time, thus:--\n_That the throne was vacant by the voluntary cession and just\ndeposition of King Richard II., and that therefore, according to their\nundoubted power and right so to do, they ought forthwith to the naming\na successor to fill the said throne, which they forthwith did, by\nnaming and proclaiming Henry, Duke of Lancaster, to be king, &c._\nSee the history of the kings of England, vol. fol. 287.\nThis was the same thing with King James's abdication, and King James's\nabdication was no less or more than an effectual resignation in form;\nnow the parliament, upon the resignation of the crown by the king,\nhaving a manifold and manifest right to supply the throne so become\nvacant, had no obligation to regard the posterity of the abdicated\nprince, so far as any of them are concerned in, or involved by, the\nsaid abdication, and therefore considered of establishing and limiting\nthe succession, without mentioning the reasons of the descent, having\nthe reasons in themselves; but suppose the son of King James had been\nallowed legitimate, yet as the father had involved him in the same\ncircumstances with himself, by first carrying him out of the kingdom,\nand afterwards educating him in the popish religion, he became\nabdicated also with his father; neither doth the being voluntary or\nnot voluntary alter the case in the least, since in the laws of\nEngland a father is allowed to be able to forfeit for himself and for\nhis children, and much more may he make a resignation for himself and\nhis children, as is daily practised and allowed in law in the cutting\noff entails and remainders, even when the heir entail is in being, and\nunder age. The people of Britain ought not then to suffer themselves\nto be imposed upon in such a case; for though the pretender were to be\nowned for the lawful son of King James, yet the abdication of King\nJames his father, and especially his own passive abdication, was as\neffectual an abdication in him as if he had been of age, and done it\nvoluntarily himself, and shall be allowed to be as binding in all\nrespects in law as an heir in possession cutting off an heir entail.\nIf this is not so, then was the settlement of the crown upon King\nWilliam and Queen Mary unrighteous, and those two famous princes must\nbe recorded in history for parricides and usurpers; nor will it end\nthere, for the black charge must reach our most gracious sovereign,\nwho must be charged with the horrible crimes of robbery and\nusurpation; and not the parliament or convention of the estates at the\nrevolution only shall be charged as rebels and traitors to their\nsovereign, and breakers of the great command of rendering to C\u00e6sar the\nthings that are C\u00e6sar's, but even every parliament since, especially\nthose who have had any hand in placing the entail of the crown upon\nthe person of the queen, and in confirming her majesty's possession\nthereof since her happy accession; and every act of parliament\nsettling the succession on the house of Hanover must have likewise\nbeen guilty of treason and rebellion in a most unnatural manner. This\nis a heavy charge upon her majesty, and very inconsistent with the\ngreat zeal and affection with which all the people of Britain at this\ntime pay their duty and allegiance to her majesty's person, and\nacknowledge her happy government; this may indeed be thought hard, but\nit is evident nothing less can be the case, and therefore those people\nwho are so forward to plead the pretender's cause, on account of his\nbeing King James's lawful son, can do it upon no other terms than\nthese, viz., to declare that the queen is herself an illegal governor,\nan usurper of another's right, and therefore ought to be deposed; or,\nthat the hereditary right of princes is no indefeasible thing, but is\nsubjected to the power of limitations by parliament. Thus I think the\ngreat difficulty of the pretender's being the rightful son of the late\nKing James is over, and at an end; that it is no part of the needful\ninquiry relating to the succession, since his father involved him in\nthe fate of his abdication, and many ways rendered him incapable to\nreign, and out of condition to have any claim; since the power of\nlimiting the succession to the crown is an undoubted right of the\nparliaments of England and of Scotland respectively. Moreover, his\nbeing educated a papist in France, and continuing so, was a just\nreason why the people of England rejected him, and why they ought to\nreject him, since, according to that famous vote of the commons in the\nconvention parliament, so often printed, and so often on many accounts\nquoted, it is declared, That it is inconsistent with the constitution\nof this protestant kingdom to be governed by a popish prince. Vid.\nVotes of the Convention, Feb. 2nd, 1688. This vote was carried up by\nMr. Hampden to the house of lords the same day as the resolution of\nall the commons of England. Now, this prince being popish, not only so\nin his infancy, but continuing so even now, when all the acts of\nParliament in Britain have been made to exclude him, his turning\nprotestant now, which his emissaries promise for him, though perhaps\nwithout his consent, will not answer at all; for the acts of\nparliament, or some of them, having been past while he, though of age,\nremained a papist, and gave no room to expect any other, his turning\nprotestant cannot alter those laws, suppose he should do so; nor is it\nreasonable that a nation should alter an established succession to\ntheir crown whenever he shall think fit to alter or change his\nreligion; if to engage the people of Britain to settle the succession\nupon him, and receive him as heir, he had thought fit to turn\nprotestant, why did he not declare himself ready to do so before the\nsaid succession was settled by so many laws, especially by that\nirrevocable law of the union of the two kingdoms, and that engagement\nof the abjuration, of which no human power can absolve us, no act of\nparliament can repeal it, nor no man break it without wilful perjury.\nWhat, then, is the signification to the people of Britain whether the\nperson called the pretender be legitimate, or no? The son of King\nJames, or the son of a cinder-woman? The case is settled by the queen,\nby the legislative authority, and we cannot go back from it; and those\nwho go about as emissaries to persuade the commons of Great Britain of\nthe pretender having a right, go about at the same time traitorously\nto tell the queen's good subjects that her majesty is not our rightful\nqueen, but an usurper.\nEND OF REASONS AGAINST THE SUCCESSION OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Reasons Against the Succession of the House of Hanover\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Richard J. Shiffer and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n[Transcriber's Note: Every effort has been made to replicate this text\nas faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and\nother inconsistencies. Text that has been changed to correct an obvious\nerror is noted at the end of this ebook.\nThis reprinted by D. A. Talboys, Oxford, 1841.]\nSECOND\nTHOUGHTS ARE BEST:\nOR A\nFURTHER IMPROVEMENT\nOf a Late\nSCHEME\nTO PREVENT\n_STREET ROBBERIES_:\nBY WHICH\nOur Streets will be strongly guarded, and so gloriously illuminated,\nthat any part of London will be as safe and pleasant at Midnight as at\nNoonday; and Burglary totally impracticable:\nWith\n_Some Thoughts for suppressing Robberies in all the Public Roads of\nEngland, &c._\nHumbly\nOffered for the Good of his Country, submitted to the Consideration of\nthe Parliament, and dedicated to his sacred Majesty King GEORGE II.\nBy ANDREW MORETON, Esq.\n_LONDON._\nPrinted for W. MEADOWS, at the _Angel_ in _Cornhill_; and sold by J.\nROBERTS, in _Warwick-Lane_. 1729. [_Price Six Pence._\nTO THE\nKING'S\nMost Excellent\nMAJESTY,\nSACRED AND MOST AUGUST!\nPermit a loyal subject, in the sincerity of his heart, to press through\nthe crowds of courtiers who surround your royal person, and lay his\nlittle mite, humbly offered for the public welfare, at your majesty's\nfeet.\nHappy is it for me, as well as the whole kingdom, we have a king of such\nhumanity and affability; a king naturalized to us, a king who loves us,\na king in whose person as well as mind, the whole hero appears: the king\nof our hearts; the king of our wishes!\nThose who are dissatisfied with such a monarch, deserve to be abandoned\nof God, and have the devil sent to reign over them. Yet such there are,\n(pity they should wear human forms, or breathe the free air of Britain!)\nwho are so scandalously fickle, that if God himself was to reign, they\nwould yearn after their darling monarch the prince of darkness.\nThese are they who fly in the face of majesty, who so abuse the liberty\nof the press, that from a benefit it becomes an evil, and demands\nimmediate regulation.\nNot against your majesty only, but against many of your loyal subjects,\nare arrows shot in the dark, by lurking villains who wound the\nreputations of the innocent in sport. Our public newspapers, which ought\nto contain nothing but what is instructive and communicative, being now\nbecome public nuisances, vehicles of personal, private slander, and\nscandalous pasquins.\nLet the glory be yours, most gracious sovereign! to suppress this\ngrowing evil; and if any hints from your most faithful subject can be of\nthe least use, I live but to serve, to admire, and pray for your\nmajesty.\n        Most gracious Sovereign,\n            Your Majesty's\n  Most loyal, most dutiful, most obedient\n                 subject and servant,\nTHE PREFACE.\nNothing is more easy than to discover a thing already found out. This is\nverified in me and that anonymous gentleman, whom the public prints have\nlately complimented with a Discovery to Prevent Street Robberies;\nthough, by the by, we have only his vain _ipse dixit_, and the\nostentatious outcry of venal newswriters in his behalf.\nBut to strip him of his borrowed plumes, these are to remind the public,\nthat about six months ago, in a treatise, entituled, Augusta Triumphans:\nor, the Way to make London the most flourishing City in the Universe, I\nlaid down a plain and practicable scheme for the total suppression and\nprevention of street robberies, which scheme has been approved of by\nseveral learned and judicious persons.\nOh! but say the advocates of this second-hand schemist, our project is\nto be laid before the parliament. Does that make his better, or mine\nworse? Have not many silly projects been laid before parliaments ere\nnow? Admit it be not the same (as I have but too much reason to fear it\nis,) cannot the members of both houses read print as well as written\nhand? Or does he think they are so prejudiced to dislike a thing the\nworse for being offered without view of gain? I trust Andrew Moreton's\nscheme, generously offered for the public good, will meet with as fair a\nreception as that of this hireling projector.\nMine is already published; let him generously follow my example, and no\ndoubt, if his scheme be preferred, the government will reward him.\nIf my antagonist be necessitous, where is the merit? he does it for his\nown sake, not for the public. If he be not necessitous, what a sordid\nwretch is he to withhold his scheme for lucre? putting it up at public\nsale; so that if you do not give him his price you shall not have it.\nSome people, indeed, are so fond of mysteries they run down everything\nthat is plain and intelligible; they love darkness, whispers, and\nfreemasonry, despising whatever comes in the shape of a pamphlet, be it\nnever so useful or commendable. But in spite of prejudice, truth is the\nstandard by which I hope all honest and impartial men will judge me.\nThough I must confess I am not a little piqued to be jockeyed out of my\nlabours, yet not to be behindhand with my gentleman in the clouds, who\nwould have the parliament buy his pig in a poke, and build up his\nfortune at my expense, I have so amply enlarged and amended my scheme,\nthat it is now scarce like the same. I have taken in everything\npossible of comprehension or practice; nor have I left him room to edge\nin one single hint. I have debated the objections of divers wise and\nlearned men, and corrected my project accordingly; so that, on\ncomparison, my first thoughts will appear but as a rude and imperfect\nsketch, only valuable in that it gave the idea of this more laboured and\nfinished performance, on which I pledge my whole reputation, being ready\nto stand or fall by its success.\nIn order to which, I have presented copies of this book to the king and\nqueen's most excellent majesties, to several of the lords spiritual, and\ndivers honourable and worthy members of both houses, and time must show\nwhose scheme shall have the precedence.\nIn the mean time I stand prepared for the sneers of those who despise\neverything and everybody but their own dear selves, as also the\nobjections of the puzzle causes, who will turry-lugg a thing out of all\nsense and meaning, and by the cloudiness of their explanations darken\nwhat is most plain and obvious. My business is to go straight forward,\nand let the end crown the work. If men of sense approve me, I need not\nvalue the laughter of fools, whose very approbation is scandal; for if a\nthinking man is to be laughed out of every good intention or invention,\nnothing will ever be done for the public good.\nSECOND THOUGHTS, &c.\nThe principal encouragement and opportunity given to our street robbers\nis, that our streets are so poorly watched; the watchmen, for the most\npart, being decrepit, superannuated wretches, with one foot in the grave\nand the other ready to follow; so feeble that a puff of breath can blow\nthem down. Poor crazy mortals! much fitter for an almshouse than a\nwatchhouse. A city watched and guarded by such animals is wretchedly\nwatched indeed.\nNay, so little terror do they carry with them, that hardy thieves make a\nmere jest of them, and oftentimes oblige even the very watchman who\nshould apprehend, to light them in their roguery. And what can a poor\ncreature do, in terror of his life, surrounded by a pack of ruffians,\nand no assistance near?\nAdd to this, that our rogues are grown more wicked than ever, and vice\nin all kinds is so much winked at, that robbery is accounted a petty\ncrime. We take pains to puff them up in their villany, and thieves are\nset out in so amiable a light in the Beggar's Opera, it has taught them\nto value themselves on their profession rather than to be ashamed of it.\nThere was some cessation of street robberies, from the time of Bunworth\nand Blewitt's execution, until the introduction of this pious opera. Now\nwe find the Cartouchian villanies revived, and London, that used to be\nthe most safe and peaceful city in the universe, is now become a scene\nof rapine and danger. If some of Cartouch's gang be not come over hither\nto instruct our thieves, we have, doubtless, a Cartouch of our own, and\na gang which, if not suppressed, may be full as pernicious as was ever\nCartouch's, and London may be as dangerous as Paris, if due care be not\ntaken.\nNot content with the mischief done by the Beggar's Opera, we must have a\nQuaker's Opera, forsooth, of much more evil tendency than the former;\nfor in this Jack Shepherd is made the hero of the drama, and runs\nthrough such a scene of riot and success, that but too many weak minds\nhave been drawn away, and many unwary persons so charmed with his\nappearance on the stage, dressed in that elegant manner, and his pockets\nso well lined, they have forthwith commenced street-robbers or\nhousebreakers; so that every idle fellow, weary of honest labour, need\nbut fancy himself a Macheath or a Shepherd, and there is a rogue made at\nonce. Since, therefore, example, has such force, the stage ought to be\nreformed, and nothing exhibited but what might be represented before a\nbishop. They may be merry and wise: let them take the Provoked Husband\nfor a pattern.\nA good physician seeks the cause, and weighs the symptoms before he\nproceeds to prescribe; and if we trace this evil from its radix, we\nshall find a cause antecedent to the two operas aforesaid: namely,\naccursed Geneva, the bane and ruin of our lower class of people.\nThose who deny an inferior class of people to be necessary in a body\npolitic, contradict reason and experience itself; since they are most\nuseful when industrious, and equally pernicious when lazy. By their\nindustry our manufactures, trade, and commerce, are carried on. The\nmerchant in his counting-house, and the captain in his cabin, would find\nbut little employment, were it not that many hands carried on the\ndifferent branches of the concerns they superintended.\nBut now so far are our common people infatuated with Geneva, that half\nthe work is not done now as formerly. It debilitates and enervates them,\nnor are they near so strong and healthy as formerly.\nSo that if this abuse of Geneva be not stopped, we may go whoop for\nhusbandmen, labourers, &c.; trade must consequently stand still, and the\ncredit of the nation sink. Nor is the abatement of the excise, though\nvery considerable, and most worthy notice, any ways comparable to the\ncorruption of manners, destruction of health, and all the train of evils\nwe are threatened with from pernicious Geneva.\nWe will suppose a man able to maintain himself and family by his trade,\nand at the same time to be a Geneva drinker. This fellow first makes\nhimself incapable of working by being continually drunk; which runs him\nbehindhand, so that he either pawns, or neglects his work, for which\nreason nobody will employ him. At last, fear of arrests, his own hunger,\nthe cries of a family for bread, his natural desire to support an\nirregular life, and a propense hatred to labour, turn but too many an\nhonest tradesman into an arrant desperate rogue. And these are commonly\nthe means that furnish us with thieves and villains in general.\nThus is a man, who might be useful in a body politic, rendered obnoxious\nto the same: so that if this trade of wickedness goes on, they will\nincrease upon us so much that we shall not dare to stir out of our\nhabitations; nay, it will be well if they arrive not to the impudence of\nplundering our houses at noonday.\nWhere is the courage of the English nation, that a gentleman, with six\nor seven servants, shall be robbed by one single highwayman? Yet we have\nlately had instances of this; and for this we may thank our effeminacy,\nour toupee wigs, and powdered pates, our tea, and other scandalous\nfopperies; and, above all, the disuse of noble and manly sports, so\nnecessary to a brave people, once in vogue, but now totally lost amongst\nus.\nLet not the reader think I run from my subject if I search the bottom of\nthe distemper before I propose a cure, which having done, though indeed\nbut slightly, for this is an argument could be carried to a much greater\nlength, I proceed to the purpose in manner following:--\nLet the watch be composed of stout able-bodied men, and of those a\nsufficient number, that is to say, a watchman to every forty houses,\ntwenty on one side of the way, and twenty on the other; for it is\nobservable that a man cannot well see distinctly beyond the extent of\ntwenty houses in a row; if it is a single row, and no opposite houses,\nthe charge must be greater, or their safety less.\nThis man should be elected and paid by the housekeepers themselves, to\nprevent misapplication and abuse, so much complained of in the\ndistribution of the public money.\nHe should be allowed ten shillings per annum by each housekeeper, which\nat forty houses, as above specified, amounts to 20_l._ per annum, almost\ntreble to what is at present allowed; and yet most housekeepers are\ncharged at least 2s. 6d. a quarter to the watch, whose beat is,\ngenerally speaking, little less than the compass of half a mile.\nWhat a shame it is that at least 100_l._ should be collected in some\nbeats, and the poor watchman should not have the one-tenth part of the\nmoney? And this I leave to the consideration of any housekeeper who will\ntake the pains to inquire into the extent of a watchman's beat, and\nafter that cast up what is collected in the said beat, as they say for\nthe watch. But this is a small abuse in comparison of other parochial\nmisapplications, for a proof of which I refer my reader to a treatise of\nmine, entituled, Parochial Tyranny.\nThis salary of 20_l._ per annum is something of encouragement, and a\npretty settlement for a poor man, who with frugality may live decently\nthereon, and by due rest be enabled to give due and vigilant attendance;\nthat is to say, from evening dusk to morning light.\nIf a housekeeper break, or a house is empty, the poor watchman ought not\nto suffer, the deficiency should be made up by the housekeepers\nremaining.\nThe watch thus stationed, strengthened, and encouraged, let every\nwatchman be armed with firearms and sword; and let no watchman stand\nabove twenty doors distant from his fellow.\nThis has already been put in practice in the parish of St. Giles's in\nthe Fields, and has had so good an effect that it is hoped other\nparishes will follow their example, which redounds not a little to the\ncredit of our project.\nLet each watchman be provided with a horn, to sound an alarm, or in time\nof danger; and let it be made penal, if not felony, for any but a\nwatchman to sound a horn in and about the city, from the time of their\ngoing on, to that of their going off.\nI know an objection will be here made on account of the postboys, to\nobviate which, I had thoughts of a bell, but that would be too ponderous\nand troublesome for a watchman to carry, besides his arms and lantern;\nwhereas a horn is portable, always ready, and most alarming.\nLet the postboys therefore use some other signal, since this is most\nconvenient to this more material purpose. They may carry a bell in a\nholster with ease, and give notice by that, as well as those who collect\nthe letters.\nThat the watchmen may see from one end of their walks to the other, let\na convenient number of lamps be set up, and those not of the convex\nkind, which blind the eyes, and are of no manner of use; they dazzle,\nbut give no distinct light, and further, rather than prevent robberies.\nMany persons, deceived and blinded by these _ignes fatui_, have been run\nover by coaches, carts, &c., people stumbling more, even under these\nvery lamps, than in the dark. In short, they are most unprofitable\nlights, and, in my opinion, rather abuses than benefits.\nBesides, I see no reason why every ten housekeepers cannot find a lamp\namong themselves, which would be four lamps in a beat, and let their\nwatchman dress it, rather than fatten a crew of directors.\nBut we are so fond of companies, it is a wonder we have not our shoes\nblacked by one, and a set of directors made rich at the expense of our\nvery black-guards.\nThe watch ought to be in view, as well as in the hearing of each other,\nor they may be overpowered, and much danger may happen.\nThe streets being thus gloriously illuminated, and so strongly guarded\nby stout and able fellows, well armed and well paid, all within the view\nof one another, proceed we to secure all by-turnings, courts, alleys,\nlanes, &c., which may favour a street-robber's escape, and make our\nproject ineffectual.\nA street, court, lane, alley, or other place, where the number of houses\nor poverty of the inhabitants will not afford a watchman on the terms\nbefore mentioned, should be gated in, and the inhabitants let in and out\nby the watchman of the street.\nWhere there are even but twelve houses in a court, and the inhabitants\npeople of credit, they may have a separate watch to themselves, as is\npractised in Boswell-court by Lincoln's-inn-fields, Angel-court in\nThrockmorton-street, and many other places in London.\nThis I think an unexceptionable way to secure the cities and suburbs of\nLondon and Westminster. The only difficulty I can conceive is, that\npersons after dark may now and then go a little way round about by\nkeeping the street way, but the pleasantness and safety occasioned by\nthe lights and watch aforesaid, make ample amends. Let those go through\nbyways, and in the dark, whose deeds are so; I am for providing security\nfor honest men, and obstacle for rogues.\nAnd now we have put a stop to their roguery, let us endeavour to\nsuppress the rogues themselves; in order to which I shall begin with\ntheir harlots, who are, generally speaking, the first motives to their\nvillany, and egg them on to all manner of mischief.\nAnd these are generally servant wenches, who stroll from place to place,\nand at last, weary of working, throw themselves on the public. To\nmaintain these creatures, many a man turns rogue. It behoves the\ngovernment, therefore, to oblige all young wenches to keep in service.\nMasters and mistresses ought likewise to see that servants of both sexes\ngo not a rambling when sent to church, but that they keep good hours;\nfor many have been ruined by junketing and staying out, instead of being\nat church or at home.\nOur common women ought to be restrained in the liberties they have\nlately taken; they openly swear and talk so obscenely, it is a shame to\na Christian country.\nHaving fully handled this topic in two treatises, viz., Everybody's\nBusiness is Nobody's Business, and Parochial Tyranny, I shall not tire\nmy readers with repetition, but referring them to the treatises\nthemselves, return to my subject, which is,--\nAfter we have reformed the ladies, let us take their sparks in hand. And\nfirst, let all shoe-cleaners, I mean boys and sturdy vagrants, be\nsuppressed, according to my scheme in Everybody's Business, &c.; as for\nlink-boys, alias thieves with lights, there will be no need of them when\nthe streets are illuminated, according to my project.\nThat sailors as well as soldiers may not give cause of suspicion, it is\nfit they should also be quartered after the same nature; and more to\nenforce it, surveyors of quarters should have rounds allotted them.\nThese surveyors should call at the quarters of every soldier or sailor\nat a limited hour, to see if they are there or no, and register them at\nhome or absent accordingly; absence to be penal.\nEvery soldier or sailor leaving his quarters till morning, after he has\nbeen found at home and registered, should be punished.\nI must be excused if I ward every obstacle, my design being to break up\nstreet-robbers, nest and egg.\nAnd that thieves may not stroll about, under pretence of being destitute\nof lodging, barracks or barns should be built at convenient ends of the\ntown, where all vagrants should be obliged to render themselves at a\nstated hour, where they should have clean straw allowed them, and be\nkept orderly and out of harm's way; they may be let loose if they have\napparent means of honest livelihood, otherwise they should be sent to\nthe workhouse of their respective parish, or to a general workhouse, of\nwhich there is great need; and of which more hereafter.\nAll publichouses and gin-shops, if they should be tolerated, should be\nshut up at ten.\nIf the government should think fit to tolerate gin-shops, I see no\nreason why they may not be subject to licenses, and come into the\npot-act as well as alehouses; especially considering there is as much\ngin as ale consumed nowadays.\nNight houses and cellars, above all, should be totally suppressed; these\nare the harbours and refuge of villains and strumpets; these are their\nhouses of call where there hellish trade is carried on; it is here they\nwait for the signal of their scouts; here they cast their schemes, and\nbring in advices; here they encourage and initiate young thieves; here\nthey barter and sell their stolen goods; these are their exchanges and\nasylums after mischief.\nHackney coach drivers next require our care; they are the scum of the\npeople, and, generally speaking, the worst of rogues.\nSo many and such frequent robberies can never be committed without the\nconnivance of these villains; and it is but too much to be feared, that\nat the same time they take up a fare they take up a robber, who is ready\nto mark his prey, and gets up either on the box or behind; and alights\nat a convenient place to perpetrate his hellish design. As for a 'snack\nof the coal' as they term it, no doubt but the coachman and he have\nproper understanding and rendezvous.\nMany who go to the coach-office nowadays, may be mistaken in their hopes\nof redress, not but the commissioners to a man treat complainants with\nthe utmost civility; but the penalty, which used to be on the renter,\nbeing now on the driver, the renter or owner of that figure is clear,\nand the driver has nothing to do but to be absent and laugh at the\ncomplainant, an instance of which take in the following case:--\nA hackney coachman took eighteenpence of a gentleman for a twelvepenny\nfare; the gentleman took his number and complained; the driver appeared,\nand was fined fifteen shillings, but the renter escaped; what was the\nresult? The driver absconded, the gentleman sits down at his loss of\nattendance and money; had robbery or assault been the complaint, the\nconsequence had been the same, the gentleman is but where he was. He has\nsince called several times at the office, but to no purpose; all the\nanswer he can get is, the fellow cannot be found. I write this therefore\nto undeceive those persons, who think when they have taken the number of\na coach they can punish the driver for insolence or extortion.\nThe law in this case ought to be turned into its old channel, that is to\nsay, the owner of the figure should be answerable; he ought to employ a\ndriver he can answer for, or drive himself.\nEvery renter therefore should be obliged to register, and respond for\nhis driver; or commissioners, figures, and all other forms, are to\nlittle purpose.\nBeggars should next be suppressed, who lounge about all day, to see\nwhere they can steal at night. It is a shame we should suffer real\nobjects of charity to beg; and for those who are not so, it is a shame\nbut they should work.\nI shall close all with these observations:--\nThat the extortions and cabals of tradesmen, by enhancing the prices of\nprovisions, is most detrimental to a state, and worthy the notice of its\nlegislature; for men not being able to support their families by honest\nlabour, and being made beggars by reason of the dearness of provisions,\nofttimes grow desperate and turn rogues. This assertion is but too true,\nto prove which I appeal to the late conduct of\n  The coal merchants,\n  The bakers,\n  The butchers,\n  And, above all, the tallow chandlers.\nThe cabals of coal traders have for many years jockeyed us in the price\nof coals; they have raised and fell them at pleasure, and made mere\nstockjobbing work of it; but never so much as in his late majesty's\nreign; on a great impress for seamen, they, in less than a fortnight,\nraised the price of coals from twenty-three shillings to almost fifty.\nWhat a pinch must this be on the poor, who live only from hand to mouth,\nand buy their coals, poor souls! some by the half peck.\nThe bakers are yet more flagrant and vile; they turn plenty to famine,\nand push up the price of bread without rule or reason; they have already\nbeen detected in one bite, i.e., procuring some of the fraternity to buy\na small quantity of corn much above the market price, and then, by\nmaking oath thereof, abuse a well-intended law, and raise the price of\nbread accordingly.\nThus are the poor ground to dust, in order to fatten a pack of misers,\nwho know no mercy. But I hope the government will make them honest,\neven against their will.\nThe butchers are now so extravagant in their way of living, that usual\nand moderate profit will not content them; they cannot drink malt\nliquor, and the poor must pay for the wine, which they swill down at an\nunmerciful rate.\nThe price of meat should therefore be regulated according to the price\nof cattle, but not according to the baker's rule afore mentioned.\nBut as for the tallow-chandlers, their oppressions call aloud for\nredress. To what an exorbitant pitch have they raised candles; just\ndouble what it was some years ago: nay, they threaten to have them at\ntenpence per pound. How can the poor work when candles are so dear? But\nwe may thank our own luxury for these impositions. I see no reason why\nwe should not humble these upstarts by making our own candles; aye, and\nour own bread too, as our forefathers have done before us.\nThe tallow-chandlers, to excuse themselves, lay the fault on the\nmelters. The melters shift it from themselves to the butchers; and so\nthe game goes round.\nOh but, say they, the government will lose part of its revenue: to which\nI answer, that rather than they shall raise candles to double their\nvalue, on pretence of paying a penny per pound excise; in case the\nparliament will take off the duty on candles for the ease of the poor, I\nwill present them with a project gratis, which shall bring in almost\ndouble the money now levied by candles, and that without the least\nhardship on the subject.\nHaving, I hope, taken sufficient care of street-robbers, I proceed now\nto clear the roads from highwaymen, footpads, &c.\nLet parties of horse be stationed at all the outgoings from the city of\nLondon; so that if a coach, wagon, &c., want a convoy, two, three, or\nmore may be detached by the commanding officer; these shall be\nregistered, and answerable for their charge; and for encouragement shall\nreceive so much per mile, or in the whole, convoy money.\nThis may be likewise practised from town to town all over England, so\nthat the roads will be as safe as the streets; and they who scruple the\ntrifle of convoy money above proposed, merit not safety.\nFor those who walk on foot to the adjacent villages, parties of foot may\nbe stationed in like manner; so that not only the subject will be free\nfrom danger, but the soldier employed and prevented from corrupt\nmeasures by this additional perquisite to his pay.\nNothing remains but that robbers be prosecuted at the public charge; the\ntrials fixed to respective days, that prosecutors may not lose so much\ntime, and the rewards paid in court without deduction or delay; nor\nshould any robber be admitted an evidence after he is taken, or pardoned\nafter conviction.\n[Transcriber's Note:\nThe transcriber made this change to the text to correct an obvious\nerror:\n       a watchman to every forty houses, twenty on\n       it one side of the way, and twenty on the other; for\n       is observable that a man cannot well see distinctly\n       beyond the extent of twenty houses in a row;\n       a watchman to every forty houses, twenty on\n       one side of the way, and twenty on the other; for\n       it is observable that a man cannot well see distinctly\n       beyond the extent of twenty houses in a row;\nEnd of Transcriber's Notes]", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Second Thoughts are Best"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by StevenGibbs and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.\n  AN HUMBLE PROPOSAL\n  TO THE\n  PEOPLE OF ENGLAND,\n  For the Increase of their\n  TRADE,\n  And Encouragement of their\n  MANUFACTURES;\n  Whether\n  The present uncertainty of Affairs\n  issues in\n  Peace or War.\n  By the Author of the COMPLETE TRADESMAN.\n  _LONDON_:\n  Printed for CHARLES RIVINGTON, at the _Bible_ and\n  _Crown_ in St. _Paul's_ Church-Yard: 1729.\n  (_Price One Shilling._)\nPREFACE TO THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND.\nIt deserves some notice, that just at, or soon after writing these sheets,\nwe have an old dispute warmly revived among us, upon the question of our\ntrade being declined, or not declined. I have nothing to do with the\nparties, nor with the reason of their strife upon that subject; I think\nthey are wrong on both sides, and yet it is hardly worth while to set them\nto rights, their quarrel being quite of another nature, and the good of\nour trade little or nothing concerned in it.\nNor do they seem to desire to be set right, but rather to want an occasion\nto keep up a strife which perhaps serves some other of their wicked\npurposes, better than peace would do; and indeed, those who seek to\nquarrel, who can reconcile?\nI meddle not with the question, I say, whether trade be declined or not;\nbut I may easily show the people of England, that if they please to\nconcern themselves a little for its prosperity, it will prosper; and on\nthe contrary, if they will sink it and discourage it, it is evidently in\ntheir power, and it will sink and decline accordingly.\nYou have here some popular mistakes with respect to our woollen\nmanufacture fairly stated, our national indolence in that very particular\nreproved, and the consequence laid before you; if you will not make use of\nthe hints here given, the fault is nobody's but your own.\nNever had any nation the power of improving their trade, and of advancing\ntheir own manufactures, so entirely in their own hands as we have at this\ntime, and have had for many years past, without troubling the legislature\nabout it at all: and though it is of the last importance to the whole\nnation, and, I may say, to almost every individual in it; nay, and that it\nis evident you all know it to be so; yet how next to impossible is it to\npersuade any one person to set a foot forward towards so great and so\ngood a work; and how much labour has been spent in vain to rouse us up to\nit?\nThe following sheets are as one alarm more given to the lethargic age, if\npossible, to open their eyes to their own prosperity; the author sums up\nhis introduction to it in this short positive assertion, which he is ready\nto make good, viz., That if the trade of England is not in a flourishing\nand thriving condition, the fault and only occasion of it is all our own,\nand is wholly in our own power to mend, whenever we please.\nSEASONABLE PROPOSAL, &c.\nAs by my title I profess to be addressing myself to Englishmen, I think I\nneed not tell them that they live by trade; that their commerce has raised\nthem from what they were to what they are, and may, if cultivated and\nimproved, raise them yet further to what they never were; and this in few\nwords is an index of my present work.\nIt is worth an Englishman's remark, that we were esteemed as a growing\nthriving nation in trade as far back as in the reigns of the two last\nHenries; manufactures were planted, navigation increased, the people began\nto apply, and trade bringing in wealth, they were greatly encouraged; yet\nin king Henry VIII.'s reign, and even towards the latter end of it, too,\nwe find several acts of parliament passed for regulating the price of\nprovisions, and particularly that beef and pork should not be sold in the\nmarket for more than a halfpenny per pound avoirdupoise, and mutton and\nveal at three farthings.\nAs the trading men to whom I write may make some estimate of things by\ncalculating one thing by another, so this leads them to other heads of\ntrade to calculate from; as, first, the value of money, which bore some\nproportion, though I think not a full and just equality to the provisions,\nas follows:--silver was at 2s. 4d. per ounce, and gold at 2_l._ 5s. to\n2_l._ 10s. per ounce; something less in the silver, and more in the gold\nthan half of the present value.\nAs for the rate of lands and houses, they bore a yet greater distance in\nvalue from what they produce now; so that indeed it bears no proportion,\nfor we find the rent of lands so raised, and their value so improved, that\nthere are many examples where the lands, valued even in queen Elizabeth's\ndays at 20_l._ to 25_l._ per annum, are now worth from 200_l._ to 300_l._\nper annum, and in some places much more.\nIt is true, this advance is to be accounted for by the improvement made of\nthe soil, by manuring, cultivating, and enclosing; by stocks of cattle, by\nlabour, and by the arts of husbandry, which are also improved; and so this\npart is not so immediately within my present design; it is a large\nsubject, and merits to be spoken of at large by itself; because as the\nimprovement of land has been extraordinary great, and the landed interest\nis prodigiously increased by it, so it is capable of much more and greater\nimprovement than has been made for above a hundred years past. But this I\nsay is not my present design; it is too great an article to be couched in\na few words.\nYet it requires this notice here; viz., that trade has been a principal\nagent even in the improvement of our land; as it has furnished the money\nto the husbandman to stock his land, and to employ servants and labourers\nin the working part; and as it has found him a market for the consumption\nof the produce of his land, and at an advanced price too, by which he has\nreceived a good return to enable him to go on.\nThe short inference from these premises is this: as by trade the whole\nkingdom is thus advanced in wealth, and the value of lands, and of the\nproduce of lands, and of labour, is so remarkably increased, why should we\nnot go on with vigour and spirit in trade, and by all proper and possible\nmethods and endeavours, increase and cultivate our commerce; that we may\nstill increase and improve in wealth, in value of lands, in stock, and in\nall the arts of trade, such as manufactures, navigation, fishery,\nhusbandry, and, in short, study an improvement of trade in all its\nbranches.\nNo doubt it would be our wisdom to do thus; and nothing of the kind can be\nmore surprising than that it should not be our practice; and thus I am\nbrought down to the case before me.\nIf it should be objected that the remark is needless, that we are an\nindustrious and laborious people, that we are the best manufacturers in\nthe world, thoroughly versed in all the methods and arts for that purpose;\nand that our trade is improved to the utmost in all places, and all cases\npossible; if it should, I say, be thus argued, for I know some have such a\ntaint of our national vanity that they do talk at this rate,--\nMy answer is short, and direct in the negative; and I do affirm that we\nare not that industrious, applying, improving people that we pretend to\nbe, and that we ought to be, and might be. That we are the best\nmanufacturers I deny; and yet at the same time I grant that we make the\nbest manufactures in the world; but the reason of that is greatly owing\nnot to our own skill exceeding others, so much as to our being furnished\nfrom the bounty of Heaven with the best materials and best conveniencies\nfor the work, of any nation in the world, of which I shall take notice in\nits place.\nBut not to dwell upon our capacities for improving in trade, I might clear\nall that part without giving up the least article of my complaint; for it\nis not our capacity to improve that I call in question, but our\napplication to the right methods; nay, I must add, that while I call upon\nyour diligence, and press you to application, I am supposed to grant your\ncapacities; otherwise I was calling upon you to no purpose, and pressing\nyou to do what at the same time I allowed you had no power to perform.\nWithout complimenting your national vanity, therefore, I am to grant you\nhave not only the means of improvement in your hands, but the capacity of\nimproving also; and on this account I must add, are the more inexcusable\nif the thing is not in practice.\nIndeed it is something wonderful, and not easy to be accounted for, that a\nwhole nation should, as if they were in a lethargic dream, shut their eyes\nto the apparent advantages of their commerce; and this just now, when\ntheir circumstances seem so evidently to stand in need of encouragement,\nand that they are more than ordinarily at a kind of stop in their usual\nprogression of trade.\nIt is debated much among men of business, whether trade is at this time in\na prosperous and thriving condition, or in a languishing and declining\nstate; or, in a word, whether we are going backwards or forward. I shall\nnot meddle with that debate here, having no occasion to take up the little\nspace allowed me in anything remote from my design. But I will propose it\nas I really believe it to be: namely, that we are rather in a state of\nbalance between both, a middle between the extremes; I hope we are not\nmuch declined, and I fear we are not much advanced. But I must add, that\nif we do not immediately set about some new methods for altering this\ndepending condition, we shall soon decline; and on the contrary, if we\nshould exert ourselves, we have before us infinite advantages of improving\nand advancing our commerce, and that to a great degree.\nThis is stating it to the meanest understanding; there is no mystery at\nall in the thing; if you will apply, you will rise; if you will remain\nindolent and inactive, you will sink and starve. Trade in England, at this\ntime, is like a ship at sea, that has sprung a leak in sight of the shore,\nor within a few days' sail of it; if the crew will ply their pump and work\nhard, they may not only keep her above water, but will bring her safe into\nport; whereas if they neglect the pump, or do not exert their strength,\nthe water grows upon them and they are in apparent danger of sinking\nbefore they reach the shore.\nOr, if you will have a coarser comparison, take the pump room in the\nrasp-house, or house of correction, at Amsterdam; where the slothful\nperson is put into a good, dry, and wholesome room, with a pump at one\nside and a spring or water-pipe at the other; if he pleases to work, he\nmay live and keep the water down, but if he sleeps he drowns.\nThe moral is exactly the same in both cases, and suits with the present\ncircumstances of our trade in England most exactly, only with this\ndifference to the advantage of the latter; namely, that the application\nwhich I call upon the people of England to exert themselves in, is not a\nmere labour of the hand; I do not tax the poor with mere sloth and\nnegligence, idly lying still when they should work, that is not our\ngrievance at present; for though there may be too much of that sort too,\namong a few of the drunken, loitering part of mankind, and they suffer for\nit sufficiently in their poverty, yet that, I say, is not the point,\nidleness is not here a national crime, the English are not naturally a\nslothful, indolent, or lazy people.\nBut it is an application proper to the method of business which is wanting\namong us, and in this we shall find room for reproof on one hand, and\ndirection on the other; and our reader, I dare say, will acknowledge there\nis reason for both.\nIt must in the first place be acknowledged, that England has indeed the\ngreatest encouragement for their industry of any nation in Europe; and as\ntherefore their want of improving those advantages and encouragements,\nlays them more open to our just reproof, than other nation's would be, or\ncan be who want them, so it moves me with the more importunity to press\nhome the argument, which reason and the nature of the thing furnishes, to\npersuade them. Reason dictates that no occasion should be let slip by\nwhich England above all nations in the world should improve the advantages\nthey have in their hands; not only because they have them, but because\ntheir people so universally depend upon them. The manufactures are their\nbread, the life, the comfort of their poor, and the soul of their trade;\nnature dictates, that as they are given them to improve, and that by\nindustry and application they are capable of being improved; so they ought\nto starve if they do not improve them to the utmost.\nLet us see in a few words what nature and providence has done for us; nay,\nwhat they have done for us exclusive of the rest of the world. The bounty\nof Heaven has stored us with the principles of commerce, fruitful of a\nvast variety of things essential to trade, and which call upon us as it\nwere in the voice of nature, bidding us work, and with annexed\nencouragement to do so from the visible apparent success of industry. Here\nthe voice of the world is plain, like the answer of an oracle; thus, dig\nand find, plough and reap, fish and take, spin and live; in a word, trade\nand thrive; and this with such extraordinary circumstances, that it is as\nif there was a bar upon the neighbouring nations, and it had been spoken\nfrom Heaven thus: These are for you only, and not for any other nation;\nyou, my favourites, of England; you, singled out to be great, opulent,\npowerful, above all your neighbours, and to be made so by your own\nindustry and my bounty.\nTo explain this, allow me a small digression, to run over the detail of\nHeaven's bounty, and see what God and nature has done for us beyond what\nit has done for other nations; nature, as I have said, will dictate to us\nwhat Heaven expects from us, for the improving the blessings bestowed, and\nfor making ourselves that rich and powerful people which he has determined\nus to be.\nOur country is furnished, I say, with the principles of commerce in a very\nextraordinary manner; that is to say, so as no other country in Europe, or\nperhaps in the world, is supplied with.\nI. With the product of the earth. This is of two kinds: 1. That of the\ninside or bowels of the earth, the same of which, as above, the voice of\nHeaven to us, is, dig and find, under which article is principally our\nlead, and tin-coal; I name these only, because of these this island seems\nto have an exclusive grant; there being none, or but very small quantities\nof them, found in any other nation; and it is upon exclusive benefits that\nI am chiefly speaking. 2. We have besides these, iron, copper, _lapis\ncalaminaris_, vulgarly called callamy, with several other minerals, which\nmay be said to be in common to us and the rest of the world, of which the\nparticulars at large, and the places where they are found, may be fully\nseen in a late tract, of which I shall have frequently occasion to speak\nin this work, entitled, A Plan of the Commerce of Great Britain, to which\nI refer, as indeed to a general index of the trade and produce of this\nwhole island.\nII. The product of the surface, which I include in that part, plough and\nreap; and though this is not indeed an exclusive product, yet I may\nobserve that the extraordinary increase which our lands, under an\nexcellent cultivation, generally yield, as well in corn and cattle, is an\nuncommon argument for the industry of the husbandmen; and I might enter\ninto a comparison with advantage, against almost any countries in Europe,\nby comparing the quantity produced on both sides, with the quantity of\nland which produce those quantities.\nYou may find some calculations of the produce of our own country in the\nbook above mentioned, viz., The Plan of the Commerce of Great Britain,\nwhere the consumption of malt in England is calculated by the value of the\nduties of excise, and where it appears that there is annually consumed in\nEngland, besides what is exported to foreign countries, forty millions of\nbushels of malt, besides also all the barley, the meal of which is made\ninto bread, which is a very great quantity; most of the northern counties\nin England feeding very much upon barley bread; and besides all the barley\neither exported or used at home in the corn unmalted; all which put\ntogether, I am assured, amounts to no less than ten millions of bushels\nmore.\nThe quantity of barley only is so exceeding great, that I am told it\nbears, in proportion to the land it grows on, an equality to as much land\nin France, as all the sowed land in the whole kingdom of England; or take\nit thus, that fifty millions of bushels of barley growing in France, would\ntake up as much ground as all the lands which are at any time sowed in\nEngland with any corn, whether barley, oats, or wheat.\nN. B. I do not say all the arable lands of England, because we know there\nare a very great number of acres of land which every year lie fallow\n(though in tillage) and unsowed, according to the usage of our husbandry;\nso they cannot be reckoned to produce any corn at all, otherwise the\nquantity might be much greater.\nThis is a testimony of the fertility of our soil; and on the other hand,\nthe fertility is a testimony of the diligence and application of our\npeople, and the success which attends that diligence.\nWe are told that in some parts of England, especially in the counties of\nEssex, Hertford, Cambridge, Bedford, Bucks, Oxford, Northampton, Lincoln,\nand Nottingham, it is very frequent to have the lands produce from seven\nto ten quarters of barley upon an acre, which is a produce not heard of in\nthe most fruitful of all those we call corn countries abroad, much less in\nFrance. On the contrary, if they have a great produce of corn, it is\nbecause they have a vast extent of land for it to grow upon, and which\nland they either have no other use for, or it may be is fit for no other\nuse; whereas our corn grounds are far from being the richest or the best\nof our lands, the prime of our land being laid up, as the ploughmen call\nit, to feed upon, that is, to keep dairies of cows, as in Essex, Suffolk,\nand the fens; or for grazing grounds, for fatting the large mutton and\nbeef, for which England is so particularly famed. These grazing countries\nare chiefly in Sussex, and in the marshes of Romney, and other parts in\nKent; also in the rich vales of Aylesbury, and others in Bucks and\nBerkshire, the isle of Ely, the bank of Trent, the counties of Lincoln,\nLeicester and Stafford, Warwick and Chester, as also in the county of\nSomerset, Lancaster, north riding of Yorkshire, and bank of Tees, in the\nbishoprick of Durham.\nWhen this product of England is considered, the diligence and success of\nour husbandry in England will be found to be beyond that of the most\nindustrious people in Europe. But I must not dwell here, my view lies\nanother way; nor do the people of England want so much to be called upon\nto improve in husbandry, as they do in manufactures and other things; not\nbut that even in this, the lands not yet cultivated do call aloud upon us\ntoo; but I say it is not the present case.\nI come in the next article to that yet louder call of the oracle, as\nabove, namely, fish and take. Indeed this is an improvement not fully\npreserved, or a produce not sufficiently improved; the advantages nature\noffers here cannot be said to be fully accepted of and embraced.\nThis is a large field, and much remains to be said and done too in it, for\nthe increase of wealth, and the employment of our people; and though I am\nnot of the opinion which some have carried to an unaccountable length in\nthis case, viz., that we should set up the fishery by companies and\nsocieties, which has been often attempted, and has proved abortive and\nill-grounded; or that we ought by force, or are able by all our advantages\nto beat out the Dutch from it; yet we might certainly very much enlarge\nand increase our own share in it; take greater quantities than we do; cure\nand pack them better than we do; come sooner to market with them than we\ndo; and consume greater quantities at home than we do; the consequence of\nwhich would be that we should breed up and employ more seamen, build and\nfit out more fishing-vessels and ships for merchandise than we do now, and\nwhich we are unaccountably blameable that we do not.\nAnd here I must observe, that the increasing the fishery would even\ncontribute to our vending as well as catching a greater quantity of fish,\nand to take off the disadvantage which we now lie under with the Dutch, by\nthe consequence of trade in the fishery itself. The case is this: the\nchief market for white herring, which is the fishery I am speaking of, is\nthe port of Dantzic and Konigsberg, from which ports the whole kingdom of\nPoland, and great duchy of Lithuania, are supplied with fish by the\nnavigation of the great river of the Vistula, and the smaller rivers of\nthe Pragel and Niemen, &c.\nThe return brought from thence is in canvass, oak, and spruce, plank and\ntimber, sturgeon, some hemp and flax, pot ashes, &c., but chiefly corn.\nHere the Dutch have an infinite advantage of us, which is never to be\nsurmounted or overcome, and for which reason it is impossible for us ever\nto beat them out of this trade; viz., the Dutch send yearly a very great\nnumber of ships to Dantzic, &c., to fetch corn; some say they send a\nthousand sail every year; and I believe they do send so many ships, or\nthose ships going so many times, or making so many voyages in the year as\namounts to the same number of freights, and so is the same thing.\nAll these ships going for corn for the Dutch, have their chief supply of\ncorn from that country; it follows, then, that their herrings are carried\nfor nothing, seeing the ships which carry them must go light if they did\nnot carry the fish; whereas, on the other hand, our fish must pay freight\nin whatever vessel it may go.\nWhen our ships, then, from Scotland, for there the fishery chiefly lies,\nand from thence the trade must take its rise; I say, when they have\ncarried their fish to the ports above-named, of Dantzic and Konigsberg,\nhow must they come back, and with what shall they be loaded?\nThe only answer that can be given is, that they must bring back the goods\nmentioned before, or, in shorter terms, naval stores, though indeed not\nmuch of naval stores neither, except timber and plank, for the hemp and\ntar, which are the main articles, are fetched further; viz., from Riga,\nRevel, Narva, and Petersburg. But suppose after delivering their fish,\nsome of the ships should go to those ports to seek freight, and load naval\nstores there, which is the utmost help in the trade that can be expected.\nThe next question is, whither shall they carry them, and for whose account\nshall they be loaden? To go for Scotland, would not be an answer; for\nScotland, having but a few ships, could not take off any quantity\nproportioned to such a commerce; for if we were to push the Dutch out of\nthe trade, we must be supposed to employ two or three hundred sail of\nships at least, to carry herrings to Dantzic, &c.\nTo say they might take freight at London, and load for England, would be\nno answer neither; for besides that even England itself would not take off\na quantity of those goods equal to the number of ships which would want\nfreight, so if England did, yet those ships would still have one dead\nfreight, for they would be left to go light home at last, to Scotland,\notherwise how shall they be at hand to load next year? And even that one\ndead freight would abate the profit of the voyage; and so still the Dutch\nwould have the advantage.\nUpon the whole, take it how and which way we will, it will for ever be\ntrue, that though our fish were every way equal to the Dutch, which yet\nwe cannot affirm, and though it came as soon to market, and carried as\ngood a price there, all which I fear must a little fall short, yet it\nwould still be true that the Dutch would gain and we should lose.\nThere is yet another addition to the advantage of Holland, viz., in the\nreturn of money; that whereas when our fish shall be sold, we shall want\nto remit back the produce in money; that is to say, so much of it as\ncannot be brought back in goods. And the difference in the exchange must\nbe against us; but it is in favour of the Dutch; for if they did not send\ntheir herrings and other fish to Dantzic, they must remit money to pay for\ntheir corn; and even as it is, they are obliged to send other goods, such\nas whale oil, the produce of their Greenland fishery, English\nmanufactures, and the like; whereas the Scots' merchants, having no market\nfor corn, and not a demand for a sufficient value in naval stores, &c.,\nviz. the product of the country, must bring the overplus by exchange to\ntheir loss, the exchange running the other way.\nIt is true, this is a digression; but it is needful to show how weak those\nnotions are, which prompt us to believe we are able to beat the Dutch out\nof the fishing trade by increasing our number of busses, and taking a\nlarger quantity of fish.\nBut this brings me back to the first argument; if you can find a way to\nenlarge your shipping in the fishery, and send greater quantities of fish\nto market, and yet sell them to advantage, you would by consequence\nenlarge your demand for naval stores, and so be able to bring more ships\nhome loaden from thence; that is to say, to dispose of more of their\nfreight at home; and indeed nothing else can do it.\nN. B. This very difference in the trade is the reason why a greater\nquantity of English manufactures are not sent from hence to Dantzic, as\nwas formerly done; viz., not that the consumption of those goods is\nlessened in Poland, or that less woollen manufactures are demanded at\nDantzic or at Konigsberg; but it is that the Dutch carry our manufactures\nfrom their own country; this they can do to advantage; besides their\ncosting nothing freight, as above, though they are sold to little or no\nprofit, because they want the value there to pay for their corn, and must\notherwise remit money to loss for the payment.\nAs these things are not touched at before in any discourses on this\nsubject, but we are daily filled with clamours and complaints at the\nindolence and negligence of our Scots and northern Britons, for not\noutworking the Dutch in their fishing trade, I think it is not foreign to\nthe purpose to have thus stated the case, and to have shown that it is not\nindeed a neglect in our management, that the Dutch thrive in the fishing\ntrade, and we sit still, as they call it, and look on, which really is not\nso in fact, but that the nature of the thing gives the advantage to the\nDutch, and throws the trade into their hands, in a manner that no industry\nor application of ours could or can prevent.\nHaving thus vindicated our people where they are really not deserving\nblame, let us look forward from hence and see with the same justice where\nthey are in another case likewise less to blame than is generally\nimagined; namely, in the white fishing, or the taking of cod-fish in these\nnorthern seas, which is also represented as if it was so plentiful of fish\nthat any quantity might be taken and cured, and so the French, the Scots,\nand the Portuguese, might be supplied from hence much cheaper and more to\nadvantage than by going so long a voyage as to the banks of Newfoundland.\nThis also is a mistake, and the contrary is evident; that there is a good\nwhite fishing upon the coast, as well of the north part of the British\ncoast as on the east side of Scotland, is very true; the Scots, to give\nthem their due, do cure a tolerable quantity of fish, even in or near the\nfrith of Edinburgh; also there is a good fishery for cod on the west side,\nand among the islands of the Leuze, and the other parts called the western\nislands of Scotland; but the mistake lies in the quantity, which is not\nsufficient to supply the demand in those ports mentioned above, nor is it\nsuch as makes it by far so easy to load a ship as at Newfoundland, where\nit is done in the one-fifth part of the time, and consequently so much\ncheaper; and the author of this has found this to be so by experience.\nYet it cannot be said with justice that the Scots' fishermen are\nnegligent, and do not improve this fishing to advantage, for that really\nthey do kill and cure as many as can be easily done to make them come\nwithin a price, and more cannot be done; that is to say, it would be to no\npurpose to do it; for it will for ever be true in trade, that what cannot\nbe done to advantage, may be said not to be possible to be done; because\ngain is the end of commerce, and the merchant cannot do what he cannot get\nby.\nIt may be true that in the herring fishery the consumption might be\nincreased at home, and in some places also abroad, and so far that fishery\nis not so fully pursued; but I do not see that the increase of it can be\nvery considerable, there being already a prodigious quantity cured more\nthan ever in Ireland on every side of that kingdom, and also on the west\nof England; but if it may be increased, so much the more will be the\nadvantage of the commerce; of which by itself.\nBut from this I come to the main article of the British trade, I mean our\nwool, or, as it is generally expressed, the woollen manufacture, and this\nis what I mean, when I said as above, spin and live.\nIn this likewise I must take the liberty to say, and insist upon it, that\nthe English people cannot be said to be idle or slothful, or to neglect\nthe advantages which are put into their hands of the greatest manufactures\nin Europe, if not in the whole world.\nOn the other hand, the people of England have run up their manufactures to\nsuch a prodigy of magnitude, that though it is extended into almost every\npart of the known world, I mean, the world as it is known in trade; yet\neven that whole world is scarce equal to its consumption, and is hardly\nable to take off the quantity; the negligence therefore of the English\npeople is not so much liable to reproof in this part, as some pretend to\ntell us; the trade of our woollen manufacture being evidently increased\nwithin these few years past, far beyond what it ever was before.\nI know abundance of our people talk very dismal things of the decay of our\nwoollen manufacture, and that it is declined much they insist upon it;\nbeing prohibited in many places and countries abroad, of their setting up\nother manufactures of their own in the room of it, of their pretending to\nmimick and imitate it, and supply themselves with the produce of their own\nland, and the labour of their own people, and indeed France has for many\nyears gone some length in this method of erecting woollen manufactures in\nthe room of ours, and making their own productions serve instead of our\ncompletely finished manufacture: but all these imitations are weak and\nunperforming, and show abundantly how little reason we have to apprehend\ntheir endeavours, or that they will be able to supplant our manufacture\nthere or any where else; for that even in France itself, where the\nimitation of our manufactures is carried on to the utmost perfection; yet\nthey are obliged to take off great quantities of our finest and best\ngoods; and such is the necessity of their affairs, that they to this day\nrun them in, that is, import them clandestinely at the greatest risk, in\nspite of the strictest prohibition, and of the severest penalties, death\nand the galleys excepted; a certain token that their imitation of our\nmanufactures is so far from pleasing and supplying other parts of the\nworld, that they are not sufficient to supply, or good enough to please\nthemselves.\nI must confess the imitating our manufactures has been carried further in\nFrance than in any other part of the world, and yet we do not see they\nhave been able so to affect the consumption as to have any visible\ninfluence upon our trade; or, that we abate the quantity which we usually\nmade, but that if they have checked the export at all, we have still found\nother channels of trade which have fully carried off our quantity, and\nshall still do so, though other nations were able to imitate us to, and\nthis is very particularly stated and explained by the author of the book\nabove mentioned, called the Plan of the English Commerce, where the\nextending our manufactures is handled more at large than I have room for\nin the narrow compass of this tract, and therefore I again refer my reader\nthither, as to the fountain head.\nBut I go on to touch the heads of things. The French do imitate our\nmanufactures in a better manner, and in greater quantity than other\nnations; and why do we not prevent them? It is a terrible satire upon our\nvigilance, or upon the method of our custom-house men, that we do not\nprevent it; seeing the French themselves will not stick to acknowledge,\nthat without a supply of our wool, which is evident they have now with\nvery small difficulty from Ireland, they could do little in it, and indeed\nnothing at all to the purpose.\nOn the other hand, it is not so with France in regard to their silk\nmanufactures, in which although we have not the principles of the work, I\nmean the silk growing within our dominions, but are obliged to bring it\nfrom Italy, yet we have so effectually shut out the French silk\nmanufactures from our market, that in a word we have no occasion at all\nfor them; nay, if you will believe some of our manufacturers, the French\nbuy some of our wrought silks and carry them into France; but whether the\nparticular be so in fact or no, this I can take upon me from good evidence\nto affirm, that whereas we usually imported in the ordinary course of\ntrade, at least a million to twelve hundred thousand pounds' value a year\nin wrought silks from France; now we import so little as is not worth\nnaming; and yet it is allowed that we do not wear less silk, or silks of a\nmeaner value, than we usually did before, so that all the difference is\nclear gain on the English side in the balance of trade.\nThe contemplation of this very article furnishes a most eminent\nencouragement to our people, to increase and improve their trade; and\nespecially to gain upon the rest of Europe, in making all the most useful\nmanufactures of other nations their own.\nNor would this increase of our trade be a small article in the balance of\nbusiness, when we come to calculate the improvement we have made in that\nparticular article, by encroaching upon our neighbours, more than they\nhave been able to make upon us; and this also you will find laid down at\nlarge in the account of the improvement of our manufactures in general,\ncalculated in the piece above mentioned, chap. v. p. 164.\nIf then the encroachments of France upon our woollen manufactures are so\nsmall, as very little to influence our trade, or lessen the quantity made\nhere, and would be less if due care was taken to keep our wool out of\ntheir hands; and that at the same time we have encroached upon their trade\nin the silk manufactures only, besides others, such as paper, glass,\nlinen, hats, &c., to the value of twelve hundred thousand pounds a year,\nthen France has got little by prohibiting the English manufactures, and\nperhaps had much better have let it alone.\nHowever, I must not omit here what is so natural a consequence from these\npremises, viz., that here lies the first branch of our Humble Proposal to\nthe People of England for Increase of their Commerce, and Improvement of\ntheir Manufactures; namely, that they would keep their wool at home.\nI know it will be asked immediately how shall it be done? and the answer\nindeed requires more time and room to debate it, than can be allowed me\nhere. But the general answer must be given; certainly it is practicable to\nbe done, and I am sure it is absolutely necessary. I shall say more to it\npresently.\nBut I go on with the discourse of the woollen manufactures in general;\nnothing is more certain, than that it is the greatest and most extensive\nbranch of our whole trade, and, as the piece above mentioned says\npositively, is really the greatest manufacture in the world. Vide Plan,\nNor can the stop of its vent, in this or that part of the world, greatly\naffect it; if foreign trade abates its demand in one place, it increases\nit in another; and it certainly goes on increasing prodigiously every\nyear, in direct confutation of the phlegmatic assertions of those, who,\nwith as much malice as ignorance, endeavour to run it down, and depreciate\nits worth as well as credit, by their ill-grounded calculations.\nWe might call for evidence in this cause the vast increase of our\nexportation in the woollen manufactures only to Portugal; which, for above\ntwenty-five years past, has risen from a very moderate trade to such a\nmagnitude, that we now export more woollen goods in particular yearly to\nPortugal, than both Spain and Portugal took off before, notwithstanding\nSpain has been represented as so extraordinary a branch of trade. The\noccasion of this increase is fully explained, by the said Plan of the\nEnglish Commerce, to be owing to the increase of the Portuguese colonies\nin the Brazils, and in the kingdoms of Congo and Angola on the west side\nof Africa; and of Melinda and the coast of Zanguebar on the east side; in\nall which the Portuguese have so civilized the natives and black\ninhabitants of the country, as to bring them, where they went even stark\nnaked before, to clothe decently and modestly now, and to delight to do\nso, in such a degree as they will hardly ever be brought to go unclothed\nagain; and all these nations are clothed more or less with our English\nwoollen manufactures, and the same in proportion in their East India\nfactories.\nThe like growth and increase of our own colonies, is another article to\nconfirm this argument, viz., that the consumption of our manufactures is\nincreased: it is evident that the number of our people, inhabitants of\nthose colonies, visibly increases every day; so must by a natural\nconsequence the consumption of the cloths they wear.\nAnd this increase is so great, and is so demonstrably growing every day\ngreater, that it is more than equal to all the decrease occasioned by the\ncheck or prohibitions put upon our manufactures, whether by the imitation\nof the French or any other European nation.\nI might dwell upon this article, and extend the observation to the East\nIndies, where a remarkable difference is evident between the present and\nthe past times; for whereas a few years past the quantity of European\ngoods, whether of English or other manufactures, was very small, and\nindeed not worth naming; on the contrary, now the number of European\ninhabitants in the several factories of the English, Dutch, and\nPortuguese, is so much increased, and the people who are subject to them\nalso, and who they bring in daily to clothe after the European fashion,\nespecially at Batavia, at Fort St. George, at Surat, Goa, and other\nprincipal factories, that the demand for our manufactures is grown very\nconsiderable, and daily increasing. This also the said Plan of the\nCommerce insists much on, and explains in a more particular manner.\nBut to proceed: not only our English colonies and factories are increased,\nas also the Portuguese in the Brazils, and in the south part of Africa;\nnot only the factories of the English and Dutch in the East Indies are\nincreased, and the number of Europeans there being increased call for a\ngreater quantity of European goods than ever; but even the Spaniards, and\ntheir colonies in the West Indies, I mean in New Spain, and other\ndominions of the Spaniards in America, are increased in people, and that\nnot so much the Spaniards themselves, though they too are more numerous\nthan ever, but the civilized free Indians, as they are called, are\nexceedingly multiplied.\nThese are Indians in blood, but being native subjects of Spain, know no\nother nation, nor do they speak any other language than Spanish, being\nborn and educated among them. They are tradesmen, handicrafts, and bred to\nall kinds of business, and even merchants too, as the Spaniards are, and\nsome of them exceeding rich; of these they tell us there are thirty\nthousand families in the city of Lima only, and doubtless the numbers of\nthese increase daily.\nAs all these go clothed like Spaniards, as well themselves as their wives,\nchildren, and servants, of which they have likewise a great many, so it\nnecessarily follows that they greatly increase the consumption of European\ngoods, and that the demand of English manufactures in particular increases\nin proportion, these manufactures being more than two-thirds of the\nordinary habit or dress of those people, as it is also of the furniture of\ntheir houses; all which they take from their first patrons, the Spaniards.\nIt will seem a very natural inquiry here, how I can pretend to charge the\nEnglish nation with indolence or negligence in their labouring or working\ntheir woollen manufactures; when it is apparent they work up all the wool\nwhich their whole nation produces, that the whole growth and produce of\ntheir sheep is wrought up by them, and that they buy a prodigious quantity\nfrom Ireland and Scotland, and work up all that too, and that with this\nthey make such an infinite quantity of goods, that they, as it were, glut\nand gorge the whole world with their manufactures.\nMy answer is positive and direct, viz., that notwithstanding all this,\nthey are chargeable with an unaccountable, unjustifiable, and, I had\nalmost said, a most scandalous indolence and neglect, and that in respect\nto this woollen manufacture in particular; a neglect so gross, that by it\nthey suffer a manifest injury in trade. This neglect consists of three\nheads:\n1. They do not work up all the wool which they might come at, and which\nthey ought to work up, and about which they have still spare hands enough\nto set to work.\n2. They with difficulty sell off or consume the quantity of goods they\nmake; whereas they might otherwise vend a much greater quantity, both\nabroad and at home.\n3. They do not sufficiently apply themselves to the improving and\nenlarging their colonies abroad, which, as they are already increased, and\nhave increased the consumption of the manufactures, so they are capable of\nbeing much further improved, and would thereby still further improve and\nincrease the manufactures. By so much as they do not work up the wool, by\nso much they neglect the advantage put into their hands; for the wool of\nGreat Britain and Ireland is certainly a singular and exclusive gift from\nHeaven, for the advantage of this great and opulent nation. If Heaven has\ngiven the wool, and we do not improve the gift by manufacturing it all up,\nso far we are to be reproached with indolence and neglect; and no wonder\nif the wool goes from Ireland to France by whole shiploads at a time; for\nwhat must the poor Irish do with their wool? If they manufacture it we\nwill not let them trade with those manufactures, or export them beyond\nsea. Our reasons for that prohibition are indeed very good, though too\nlong to debate in this place: but no reason can be alleged that can in any\nsense of the thing be justifiable, why we should not either give leave to\nexport the manufactures, or take the wool.\nBut to speak of the reason to ourselves, for the other is a reason to them\n(I mean the Irish). The reason to ourselves is this: we ought to take the\nwool ourselves, that the French might not have it to erect and imitate our\nown manufactures in France, and so supplant our trade.\nCertainly, if we could take the whole quantity of the Irish wool off their\nhands, we might with ease prevent it being carried to France; for much of\nit goes that way, merely because they cannot get money for it at home.\nThis I charge therefore as a neglect, and an evident proof of indolence;\nnamely, that we do not take effectual care to secure all the wool in\nIreland; give the Irish money for it at a reasonable market price, and\nthen cause it to be brought to England as to the general market.\nI know it will be objected, that England does already take off as much as\nthey can, and as much as they want; and to bring over more than they can\nuse, will sink the market, and be an injury to ourselves; but I am\nprepared to answer this directly and effectually, and you shall have a\nfull reply to it immediately.\nBut, in the mean time, this is a proof of the first proposition; namely,\nthat we do not work up all our own wool, for the Irish wool is, and ought\nto be, esteemed as our own, in the present debate about trade; for that it\nis carried away from our own dominions, and is made use of by those that\nrival our manufactures to the ruin of our own trade.\nThat the Irish are prohibited exporting their wool, is true; but it seems\na little severe to prohibit them exporting their wool, and their\nmanufactures too, and then not to buy the wool of them neither.\nIt is alleged by some, that we do take off all the wool they bring us, and\nthat we could and would take it all, if they would bring it all. To this I\nanswer; if the Irish people do not bring it all to us, it is either that\nit is too far for the poor people who own the wool to bring it to the\nsouth and east coast of Ireland, there being no markets in the west and\nnorth-west parts of that island, where they could sell it; and the farmers\nand sheep-breeders are no merchants, nor have they carriage for so long a\njourney; but either the public ought to appoint proper places whether it\nshall be carried, and where they would receive money for it at a certain\nrate; or erect markets where those who deal in wool might come to buy, and\nwhere those who have it to sell would find buyers.\nNo doubt but the want of buyers is the reason why so much of the Irish\nwool is carried over to France; besides, if markets were appointed where\nthe poor farmers could always find buyers at one price or another, there\nwould be then no pretence for them to carry it away in the dark, and by\nstealth, to the sea side, as is now the case; and the justice of\nprohibitions and seizures would be more easily to be defended; indeed\nthere would be no excuse for the running it off, nor would there want any\nexcuse for seizing it, if they attempted to run it off.\nBut I am called upon to answer the objection mentioned above; namely, that\nthe manufactures in England do indeed already take off a very great\nquantity of the Irish wool, as much as they have occasion for; nay, they\ncondescend so far to the Irish, as to allow them to manufacture a great\ndeal of that wool which they take off; that is to say, to spin it into\nyarn, of which yarn so great a quantity is brought into England yearly, as\nthey assure us amounts to sixty thousand packs of wool; as may be seen by\na fair calculation in the book above mentioned, called the Plan; in a\nword, that the English are not in a condition to take off any more. Now\nthis is that which leads me directly to the question in hand; whether the\nEnglish are able to take off any more of the Irish wool and yarn, or no. I\ndo not affirm, that, as the trade in England is now carried on, they are\nable, perhaps they are not; but I insist, that if we were thoroughly\nresolved in England to take such wise measures as we ought to take, and as\nwe are well able to do, for the improvement and increase of our\nmanufactures, we might and should be able to take off, and work up the\nwhole growth of the wool of Ireland; and this I shall presently\ndemonstrate, as I think, past doubt.\nBut before I come to the scheme for the performance of this, give me leave\nto lay down some particulars of the advantage this would be to our\ncountry, and to our commerce, supposing the thing could be brought to\npass; and then I shall show how easily it might be brought to pass.\n1. By taking off this great quantity of wool and yarn, supposing one half\nof the quantity to be spun, many thousands of the poor people of Ireland\nwho are now in a starving condition for want of employment, would be set\nimmediately to work, and be put in a condition to get their bread; so that\nit would be a present advantage to the Irish themselves, and that far\ngreater than it can be now, their wool which goes away to France being all\ncarried off unwrought.\n2. Due care being then taken to prevent any exportation of wool to France,\nas, I take it for granted, might be done with much more ease when the\nIrish had encouragement to sell their wool at home, we should soon find a\ndifference in the expense of wool, by the French being disabled from\nimitating our manufactures abroad, and the consumption of our own would\nnaturally increase in proportion. First, they would not be able to thrust\ntheir manufactures into foreign markets as they now do, by which the sale\nof our manufactures must necessarily be abated; and, secondly, they would\nwant supplies at home, and consequently our manufactures would be more\ncalled for, even in France itself, and that in spite of penalties and\nprohibitions.\nThus by our taking off the Irish wool, we should in time prevent its\nexportation to France; and by preventing its going to France, we should\ndisable the French, and increase the consumption of our own manufactures\nin all the ports whither they now send them, and even in France itself.\nI have met with some people who have made calculations of the quantity of\nwool which is sent annually from Ireland to France, and they have done it\nby calculating, first how many packs of wool the whole kingdom of Ireland\nmay produce; and this they do again from the number of sheep which they\nsay are fed in Ireland in the whole. How right this calculation may be I\nwill not determine.\nFirst, they tell us, there are fed in Ireland thirty millions of sheep,\nand as all these sheep are supposed be sheared once every year, they must\nproduce exactly thirty millions of fleeces, allowing the fell wool in\nproportion to the number of sheep killed.\nIt is observable, by a very critical account of the wool produced annually\nin Romney marsh, in the county of Kent, and published in the said Plan of\nthe English Commerce, that the fleeces of wool of those large sheep,\ngenerally weigh above four pounds and a half each. It is computed thus;\nfirst he tells us that Romney marsh contains 47,110 acres of land, that\nthey feed 141,330 sheep, whose wool being shorn, makes up 2,523 packs of\nwool, the sum of which is, that every acre feeds three sheep, every sheep\nyields one fleece, and 56 fleeces make one pack of wool, all which comes\nout to 2,523 packs of wool, twenty-three fleeces over, every pack weighing\ntwo hundred and forty pounds of wool. Vide Plan, &c. p. 259.\nI need not observe here, that the sheep in Ireland are not near so large\nas the sheep in Romney marsh, these last being generally the largest breed\nof sheep in England, except a few on the bank of the river Tees in the\nbishoprick of Durham. Now if these large sheep yield fleeces of four\npounds and a half of wool, we may be supposed to allow the Irish sheep,\ntake them one with another, to yield three pounds of wool to a fleece, or\nto a sheep, out of which must be deducted the fell wool, most of which is\nof a shorter growth, and therefore cannot be reckoned so much by at least\na pound to a sheep. Begin then to account for the wool, and we may make\nsome calculation from thence of the number of sheep.\n1. If of the Romney marsh fleeces, weighing four pounds and a half each,\nfifty-six fleeces make one pack of wool; then seventy fleeces Irish wool,\nweighing three pounds each fleece, make a pack.\n2. If we import from Ireland one hundred thousand packs of wool, as well\nin the fleece as in the yarn, then we import the wool of seven millions of\nsheep fed in Ireland every year.\nCome we next to the gross quantity of wool; as the Irish make all their\nown manufactures, that is to say, all the woollen manufactures, needful\nfor their own use, such as for wearing apparel, house furniture, &c., we\ncannot suppose but that they use much more than the quantity exported to\nEngland, besides that, it is too well known, that notwithstanding the\nprohibition of exportation, they do daily ship off great quantities of\nwoollen goods, not only to the West Indies, but also to France, to Spain,\nand Italy; and we have had frequent complaints of our merchants from\nLisbon and Oporto, of the great quantity of Irish woollen manufactures\nthat are brought thither, as well broadcloth as serges, druggets, duroys,\nfrieze, long-ells, and all the other sorts of goods which are usually\nexported from England; add these clandestine exportations to the necessary\nclothing, furniture, and equipages, of that whole nation, in which are\nreckoned two millions and a half of people, and we cannot suppose they\nmake use of less than two hundred thousand packs of wool yearly among\nthemselves, which is the wool of fourteen millions of sheep more.\nWe must, then, allow all the rest of the wool to be run or smuggled, call\nit what you please, to France, which must be at least a hundred to a\nhundred and twenty thousand packs more: for it seems the Irish tell us\nthat they feed thirty millions of sheep in the whole kingdom of Ireland.\nIf, then, they run over to France a hundred thousand packs of wool yearly,\nwhich I take to be the least, all this amounts to twenty-eight millions of\nfleeces together; the other two millions of fleeces may justly be deducted\nfor the difference between the quantity of wool taken from the sheep that\nare killed, which we call fell wool, and the fleece wool shorn.\nUpon the foot of this calculation, there are a hundred thousand packs of\nwool produced in Ireland every year, which we ought to take off, and\nwhich, for want of our taking it off, is carried away to France, where it\nis wholly employed to mimick our manufactures and abuse our trade;\nlessening thereby the demand of our own goods abroad, and even in France\nitself. This, therefore, is a just reproach to our nation, and they are\ncertainly guilty of a great neglect in not taking off that wool, and more\neffectually preventing it being carried away to France.\nIt must be confessed, that unless we do find some way to take off this\nwool from the Irish, we cannot so reasonably blame them for selling it to\nthe French, or to anybody else that will buy, for what else can they do\nwith it, seeing you shut up all their ports against the manufacturers; at\nleast you shut them up as far as you are able; and if you will neither let\nthem manufacture it, for not letting them transport the manufacture when\nmade is in effect forbidding to make them; I say, if you will neither let\nthem manufacture their wool nor take it off their hands, what must they do\nwith it?\nBut I come next to the grand objection; namely, that we cannot take it\noff, that we do take off as much as we can use, and a very great quantity\nit is too; that we are not able to take more, that is to say, we know not\nwhat to do with it if we take it; that we cannot manufacture it, or if we\ndo, we cannot sell the goods; and so, according to the known rule in\ntrade, that what cannot be done with profit or without loss, we may say of\nit that it cannot be done; so in the sense of trade, we cannot take their\nwool off, and if they must run it over to France, they must, we cannot\nhelp it.\nThis, I say, is a very great mistake; and I do affirm, that as we ought to\ntake off the whole quantity of the Irish wool, so we may and are able to\ndo it. That our manufacture is capable of being so increased, and the\nconsumption of it increased also, as well at home as abroad; that it would\nin the ordinary course of trade call for all the wool of Ireland, if it\nwere much more than it is, and employ it profitably; besides employing\nmany thousands of poor people more than are now employed, and who indeed\nwant employment.\nUpon this foundation, and to bring this to be true, as I shall presently\nmake appear, I must add, that a just reproach lies upon us for indolence,\nand an unaccountable neglect of our national interests, in not\nsufficiently exerting ourselves to improve our trade and increase our\nmanufactures; which is the title, as it is the true design, of this whole\nwork.\nThe affirming, as above, that we are able to increase our manufacture, and\nby that increase to take off more wool, may, perhaps, be thought an\narrogance too great to be justified, and would be a begging the question\nin an egregious manner, if I were not in a condition to prove what I say;\nI shall therefore apply myself directly to evidence, and to put it out of\ndoubt:--\nBy increasing our manufacture, I am content to be understood to mean the\nincreasing the consumption, otherwise, to increase quantity only, would be\nto ruin the manufacturers, not improve the trade. This increasing the\nconsumption is to be considered under two generals.\n  1. The consumption at home.\n  2. The exportation, or consumption abroad.\nI begin with the last; namely, the consumption abroad. This is too wide a\nfield to enter upon in particular here, I refer it to be treated at large\nby itself; but as far as it serves to prove what I have affirmed above,\nnamely, that the consumption of our manufactures may be improved abroad,\nso far it is needful to speak of it here; I shall confine it to the\nEnglish colonies and factories abroad.\nIt is evident, that by the increase of our colonies, the consumption of\nour manufactures has been exceedingly increased; not only experience\nproves it, but the nature of the thing makes it impossible to be\notherwise; the island of St. Christopher, is a demonstration beyond all\nargument; that island is increased in its product and people, by the\nFrench giving it up to us at the treaty of Utrecht. Its product of sugar\nis almost equal to that of Barbadoes, and will in a very few years exceed\nit; the exports from hence to that island are increased in proportion; why\nthen do we not increase our possessions, plant new colonies, and better\npeople our old ones? Both might be done to infinite advantage, as might be\nmade out, had we room for it, past contradiction.\nWe talk of, and expect a war with Spain; were the advantages which new\nsettlements in the abandoned countries of America, as well the island as\nthe continent considered, we should all wish for such a war, that the\nEnglish might by their superiority at sea, get and maintain a firm\nfooting, as well on the continent as the islands of America: there the\nSpainards, like the fable of the dog in the manger, neither improve it\nthemselves, nor will admit others to improve; I mean in all the south\ncontinent of America, from Buenos Ayres to port St. Julien, a country\nfruitful, a climate healthful, able to maintain plentifully any numbers,\neven to millions of people, with an uninterrupted communication within the\nland, as far as to the golden mountain of the Andes or Cordilleras, where\nthe Chilians, unsubdued by any European power, a docible, civilized\npeople, but abhorring the Spaniards, would not fail to establish a\ncommerce infinitely profitable, exchanging gold for all your English\nmanufactures, to an inexpressible advantage.\nAmong the islands, why should not we, as well as the French, plant upon\nthe fruitful countries of Cuba and Hispaniola, as rich and capable of\nraising sugars, cocoa, ginger, pimento, indigo, cotton, and all the other\nproductions usual in that latitude, as either the Barbadoes or Jamaica.\nOur factories, for they cannot yet be called colonies, on the coast of\nAfrica, offer us the like advantages. Why are they not turned into\npopulous and powerful colonies, as they might be? Why not encouraged from\nhence? And why is not their trade espoused and protected as our other\ncolonies and factories? but left to be ravaged by the naked and\ncontemptible negroes; plundered, and their trade ravished by the more\nunjust and more merciless interlopers, who, instead of thieves, for they\nare no better, would be called separate traders only, though they break in\nby violence and fraud upon the property of an established company, and rob\nthem of their commerce, even under the protection of their own forts and\ncastles, which these paid nothing towards the cost of.\nWhy does not England enlarge and encourage the commerce of the coast of\nGuinea? plant and fortify, and establish such possessions there as other\nnations, the Portuguese for example, in the opposite coast on the same\nlatitude? Is it not all owing to the most unaccountable indolence and\nneglect? What hinders but that we might ere now have had strong towns and\nan inhabited district round them, and a hundred thousand Christians\ndwelling at large in that country, as the Portuguese have now at Melinda,\nin the same latitude, on the eastern coast?\nAnd what hinders, but that same indolence and neglect, that they have not\nthere growing at this time, the coffee of Mocha, as the Dutch have at\nBatavia; the tea of China, the cocoa of the Caraccas, the spices of the\nMoluccas, and all the other productions of the remotest Indies, which grow\nnow in the same latitude, and which cost us so much treasure yearly to\npurchase, and which, as has been tried, would prosper here as well as in\nthe countries from which we fetch them?\nWhat a consumption of English manufacture would follow such a plantation?\nand what an increase of trade would necessarily attend an increase of\npeople there?\nI have not room to enlarge here upon these heads; they are fully stated in\nthe said Plan of English Commerce, and in several other tracts of trade\nlately published by the same author, and to that I refer. See the Plan,\nchap. iii. page 335. and chap. v. page 363.\nI come next to the consumption at home, and here indeed the proof lies\nheavy upon ourselves; nothing but an unaccountable supreme negligence of\nour own apparent advantages can be the cause of the whole grievance; such\na negligence, as I think, no nation but the English are, or can be guilty\nof; I mean no nation that has the like advantage of a manufacture, and\nthat has a hundred thousand packs of wool every year unwrought up, and a\nmillion of people unemployed.\nN. B. All our manufactures, whether of wool, silk, or thread, and all\nother wares, hard or soft, though we have a very great variety, yet do not\nemploy all our people, by a great many; nay, we have some whole counties\ninto which the woollen, or silk, or linen manufacture, may be said never\nto have set their feet, I mean as to the working part; or so little as not\nto be worth naming; such in particular as Cambridge, Huntingdon, Hertford,\nBedford; the first three are of late indeed come into the spinning part a\nlittle, but it is but very little; the like may be said of the counties of\nCheshire, Stafford, Derby, and Lincoln, in all which very little, if any,\nmanufactures are carried on; neither are the counties of Kent, Sussex,\nSurry, or Hampshire, employed in any of the woollen manufactures worth\nmentioning; the last indeed on the side about Alton and Alresford, may be\nsaid to do a little; and the first just at Canterbury and Cranbrook. But\nwhat is all they do compared to the extent of four counties so populous\nthat it is thought there are near a million of people in them?\nSeeing then, I say, there are yet so many people want employ, and so much\nwool unwrought up, and which for want of being thus wrought up, is carried\naway by a clandestine, smuggling, pernicious trade, to employ our enemies\nin trade, the French, and to endanger our manufactures at foreign markets,\nhow great is our negligence, and how much to the reproach of our country\nis it, that we do not improve this trade, and increase the consumption of\nthe manufactures as we ought to do? I mean the consumption at home, for of\nthe foreign consumption I have spoken already.\nIt seems to follow here as a natural inquiry, after what has been said,\nthat we should ask, How is this to be done, and by what method can the\npeople of England increase the home consumption of their woollen\nmanufactures?\nI cannot give a more direct answer to this question, or introduce what\nfollows in a better manner, than in the very words of the author of the\nbook so often mentioned above, as follows, speaking of this very thing,\nthus:--\n\"The next branch of complaint,\" says this author, \"is, that the\nconsumption of our woollen manufacture is lessened at home.\n\"This, indeed,\" continues he, \"though least regarded, has the most truth\nand reason in it, and merits to be more particularly inquired into; but\nsupposing the fact to be true, let me ask the complainer this question,\nviz., why do we not mend it? and that without laws, without teazing the\nparliament and our sovereign, for what they find difficult enough to\neffect even by law? The remedy is our own, and in our own power. I say,\nwhy do not the people of Great Britain, by general custom and by universal\nconsent, increase the consumption of their own manufacture by rejecting\nthe trifles and toys of foreigners?\n\"Why do we not appear dressed in the growth of our own country, and made\nfine by the labour of our own hands?\" Vide Plan of the English Commerce,\nAnd again, p. 254; \"We must turn the complaints of the people upon\nthemselves, and entreat them to encourage the manufactures of England by a\nmore general use and wearing of them. This alone would increase the\nconsumption, as that alone would increase the manufacture itself.\"\nI cannot put this into a plainer or better way of arguing, or in words\nmore intelligible to every capacity.\nDid ever any nation but ours complain of the declining of their trade and\nat the same time discourage it among themselves? Complain that foreigners\nprohibit our manufactures, and at the same time prohibit it themselves?\nfor refusing to wear it is the worst and severest way of prohibiting it.\nWe do indeed put a prohibition upon our trade when we stop up the stream,\nand dam up the channel of its consumption, by putting a slight upon the\nwearing it, and, as it were, voting it out of fashion; for if you once\nvote your goods out of wear, you vote them out of the market, and you had\nas good vote them contraband.\nWith what an impetuous gust of the fancy did we run into the product of\nthe East Indies for some years ago? How did we patiently look on and see\nthe looms empty, the workmen fled, the wives and children starve and beg,\nthe parishes loaded, and the poor's rates rise to a surprising height,\nwhile the ladies flourished in fine Massulapatam, chints, Indian damasks,\nChina atlasses, and an innumerable number of rich silks, the product of\nthe coast of Malabar, Coromandel, and the Bay of Bengal, and the poorer\nsort with calicoes? And with what infinite difficulty was a remedy\nobtained, and with what regret did the ladies part with that foreign\npageantry, and stoop to wear the richest silks of their own manufacture,\nthough these were the life of their country's prosperity, and those the\nruin of it?\nWhen this was the case, how fared our trade? The state of it was thus, in\na few words:--\nThe poor, as above, wanted bread; the wool lay on hand, sunk in price, and\nwanted a market; the manufacturers wanted orders, and when they made\ngoods, knew not where to sell them; all was melancholy and dismal on that\nside; nothing but the East India trade could be said to thrive; their\nships went out full of money and came home full of poison; for it was all\npoison to our trade. The immense sums of ready money that went abroad to\nIndia impoverished our trade, and indeed bid fair to starve it, and, in a\nword, to beggar the nation.\nAt home we were so far from working up the whole quantity or growth of our\nwool, that three or four years' growth lay on hand in the poor tenants'\nhouses, for want of which they could not pay their rent.\nThe wool from Scotland, which comes all to us now, went another way, viz.,\nto France, for the Union was not then made, and yet we had too much at\nhome. Nor was the quantity brought from Ireland half so much as it is now.\nWas all this difference from our own wearing, or not wearing the produce\nof our own manufacture? How unaccountably stupid then are we to run still\nretrograde to the public good of our country, and ruin our own commerce,\nby rejecting our own manufacture, setting our people to furnish other\nnations with cloths, and recommending the manufacture to other countries,\nand rejecting them ourselves?\nIf the difference was small, and the clothing of our own people was a\nthing of small moment, that it made no impression on the commerce, or the\nmanufacture in general, it might be said to be too little to take notice\nof.\nIf our consumption at home is thus considerable, and the clothing of our\nown people does consume the wool of many millions of sheep; if the silk\ntrade employs many thousands of families; if there is an absolute\nnecessity of working up if possible all the growth of our wool, as well of\nIreland as of England, or that else it would be run over to France, to the\nencouragement of rival manufactures, and the ruin of our own; in a word,\nif our own people, falling into a general use of our own manufacture,\nwould effectually do this, and their continuing to neglect it would\neffectually throw our manufacture into convulsions, and stagnate the whole\ntrade of the kingdom; if our wearing foreign silk manufactures did\nannually carry out 1,200,000_l._ sterling per annum for silks, to France\nand Italy, and above 600,000_l._ per annum for the like to India, all in\nspices, to the impoverishing our trade, by emptying us of all our ready\nmoney, as well as starving our poor for want of employment.\nAgain, if these grievances were very much abated, and indeed almost\nremedied by the several acts of parliament, first to prohibit East India\nsilks, then to lay high duties, equal to prohibition, upon French silks;\nand, in the last place, an act to prohibit the use and wearing of printed\ncalicoes; I say, if these acts have gone so far in the retrieving the\ndying condition of our woollen manufacture, and encouraging the silk\nmanufacture; that in the first, we have wrought up all the English growth\nof wool, and that of Scotland too, which was never done before; and in the\nlast have improved so remarkably in the silk manufacture, that all that\nvast sum of 1,800,000_l._ per annum, expended before in French and Indian\nsilks, is now turned into the pockets of our own poor, and kept all at\nhome, and the silks become a mere English manufacture as was before a\nforeign.\nIf all this is true, as it is most certainly, what witchcraft must it be\nthat has seized upon the fancy of this nation? What spirit of blindness\nand infatuation must have possessed us? that we are in all haste running\nback into the old, stupid, and dull unthinking state, and growing fond of\nanything, nay of everything that is injurious to our own commerce, and be\nit as ruinous as it will to our own poor, and to our own manufactures;\nnay, though we see our trade sick and languishing, and our poor starving\nbefore our eyes; and know that we ourselves are the only cause of it, are\nyet so obstinately and unalterable averse to our own manufacture, and fond\nof novelties and trifles, that we will not wear our own goods, but will at\nany hazard make use of things foreign to us, the labour and advantage of\nstrangers, pagans, negroes, or any kind of people, rather than our own.\nUnhappy temper, unknown in any nation but ours! The wiser pagans and\nMahometans, natives of India, Persia, China, Japan, Siam, Pegu, act\notherwise; wherever we find any people in these parts, we find them\nclothed with their own manufacture, whether of silk, cotton, herba, or of\nwhatever other materials they were made; nor to this day have our nicest\nor finest manufactures, though perfectly new to them, (and novelties we\nsee take with us to a frenzy and distraction) touched their fancies, or so\nmuch as tempted them to wear them; all our endeavours to persuade them\nhave been in vain; but with us, any new fancy, any far-fetched novelty,\nhowever antick, however extravagant in price, nay the dearer the more\nprevailing, presently touches our wandering fancy, and makes us cast off\nour finest and most agreeable produce, the fruit of our own industry, and\nthe labour of our own poor, making a mode of the foreign gewgaw, let it be\nas wild and barbarous as it will.\nBut I meet with an objection in my way here, which is insisted upon with\nthe utmost warmth; namely:--\nObjection: you seem to acknowledge that the prohibition of India silks and\nthe duties upon French silks, have effectually answered the end as to\nsilks; and that the late act against the use and wearing of printed or\npainted calicoes has likewise had its effect on the woollen manufacture.\nThere is nothing now left to support your complaint but the printed linen;\nwhich, though it is become a general wear, yet is our own product and\ngrowth, and the labour of our own poor; for the Scots and Irish, by whom\nthe linen is manufactured, are our own subjects, and ought as much to be\nin our concern as any of the rest, and that linen is as much our own\nmanufacture as the silk and the wool.\nNothing could, in my opinion, be more surprising of its kind, than to hear\nwith what warmth this very argument was urged to the parliament, and to\nthe public, by not the Scots and Irish only, but even by some of our own\npeople, possessed and persuaded by the other, at the time the act against\nthe printed calicoes was depending before the parliament; as if an\nupstart, and in itself trifling manufacture, however increased by the\ncorruption of our people's humour and fancy, could be an equivalent to the\ngrand manufacture of wool in England, which is the fund of our whole\ncommerce, and has been the spring and fountain of our wealth and\nprosperity for above three hundred years; a manufacture which employs\nmillions of our people, which has raised the wealth of the whole nation\nfrom what it then was to what it now is; a manufacture that has made us\nthe greatest trading nation in the world, and upon which all our wealth\nand commerce still depends.\nI insist upon it that no novelty is to be encouraged among us to the\nprejudice of this chief and main support of our country, let it be of what\nkind it will; nor is it at all to the purpose to say such or such a\nnovelty is made at home, and is the work of our own people; it is to say\nnothing at all, for we ought no more to set up particular manufactures to\nthe prejudice of the woollen trade in general, which is the grand product\nof the whole nation, and on which our whole prosperity depends, than we\nwould spread an universal infection among us, on pretence that the\nvegetable or plant from whence the destructive effluvia proceeded, was the\ngrowth of our own land; or than we should publish the Alcoran and the most\nheretical, blasphemous, or immodest books, to taint the morals and\nprinciples of the people, on pretence that the paper and print were our\nown manufactures.\nI am for encouraging all manufactures that can be invented and set up\namong us, and that may tend to the employment of the poor and improvement\nof our produce; such things having a national tendency to raising the rent\nof our lands, assisting the consumption of our growth, and, in a word,\nincreasing trade in general; I say I am for encouraging new manufactures\nof all sorts, with this one exception only, namely, that they do not\ninterfere with, and tend to the prejudice of the woollen manufacture,\nwhich is the main and essential manufacture of England.\nBut the woollen manufacture is the life and blood of the whole nation, the\nsoul of our trade, the top of all manufactures, and nothing can be erected\nthat either rivals it or any way lessens it or interferes with it, without\nwounding us in the more noble and vital part, and, in effect, endangering\nthe whole.\nTo set up a manufacture of painted linen, which, touching the particular\npride and gay humour of the ordinary sort of people, intercepts the\nwoollen manufacture, which they would otherwise be clothed with, is so far\nwounding and supplanting the woollen manufacture for a paltry trifle, and\nthough it is indeed in itself but a trifle, yet as the poorer sort of\npeople, the servants, and the wives and children of the farmers and\ncountry people, and of the labouring poor, who wear this new fangle, are a\nvast multitude, the wound strikes deeper into the quantity than most\npeople imagine, makes a large abatement of the consumption of wool,\nlessening the labour of the poor manufacturers very considerably; and on\nthis account, I say, it ought not to be encouraged, though it be our own\nmanufacture.\nDo we not, from this very principle, prohibit the planting tobacco in\nEngland, though our own land would produce it? Do we not know there are\ncoals in Blackheath, Muzzle-hill, and other places, but that we must not\nwork them that we may not hurt the navigation? The reason is exactly the\nsame here.\nThis consideration is so pungent in itself, and so naturally touches every\nEnglishman that has the good of his country at heart, that one would think\nthere should be no occasion for an act of parliament to oblige them to it;\nbut they should be moved by a mere concern of mind, and generous endeavour\nfor the public prosperity, not to fall in with or encourage any new\nproject, any new custom or fashion, without first inquiring particularly\nwhether it would not be injurious to the prosperity of the main and grand\narticle of the English Commerce, the woollen manufacture.\nWere this public spirit among us, we need fear no upstart manufacture\nbreaking in upon us, whether printed linen or anything else; for no people\nof sense, having the good of their country at heart, would touch it, much\nless make it a general fashion. But, as the Plan of English Commerce\nobserves, our people, the ladies especially, have such a passion for the\nfashion, that they have been the greatest enemies to our woollen\nmanufacture; and I must add that this passion for the fashion of printed\nlinens at this time is a greater blow to the woollen manufacture of\nEngland than all the prohibitions in Germany and Italy, of which we may\nhave formed such frightful ideas in our minds; or even than all the\nimitation of our manufactures abroad, whether in France, or any other part\nof Europe.\nAnd yet, to conclude all,\nHow easy, how very easy is it for us to prevent it; which, by the way,\ndeserves a whole book by itself.\nFINIS.\nTranscriber's Notes:\nPassages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.\nThe following misprints have been corrected:\n  superfluous \"I\" removed (page 12)\n  \"of of\" corrected to \"of\" (page 29)\n  \"at at\" corrected to \"at\" (page 31)", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  An Humble Proposal to the People of England, for the Increase of their Trade, and Encouragement of Their Manufactures\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " Dutch\n", "content": "Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed\nGutenberg.\n                     DE AVONTUREN VAN KAPITEIN BOB\n                       VERTAALD DOOR G.W. ELBERTS\n                   GE\u00cfLLUSTREERD DOOR FREDDY LANGELER\nHOOFDSTUK I.\nEEN MOEILIJKE JEUGD.\nAls ik de vrouw mag gelooven die mij geleerd had haar moeder te noemen,\nben ik omstreeks 1680, in een der voorsteden van Londen geboren. Toen\nik ongeveer twee jaar oud was, nam het kindermeisje mij op een mooien\nzomeravond mee buiten de stad, onder voorwendsel mij eens in de\nfrissche lucht te brengen. Bij toeval, of volgens afspraak, ontmoette\nze al heel gauw een jongen, met wien ze een herberg binnenging, het\naan een buurkind van een jaar of twaalf, dat met ons was meegegaan,\noverlatende op mij te passen.\nZonder aan eenig gevaar te denken, speelden wij eerst in den tuin der\nherberg en toen op den weg, terwijl het jonge paar, onder 't genot\nvan bier en koek, ons blijkbaar geheel vergat.\nHet ongeluk wilde, dat hier al heel gauw een van die misdadige\nvrouwspersonen voorbijkwam, die er in die dagen hun helsch beroep van\nmaakten goed-gekleede jonge kinderen te stelen en te doen verdwijnen,\nof oudere aan plantagehouders te verkwanselen.\nOnder den schijn mij enkel maar te willen liefkoozen en wat met\nme te spelen, nam het wijf mij in haar armen, voerde het argelooze\nbuurmeisje eerst een eind mee het veld in en zond haar daarop met een\ngemaakte boodschap naar de herberg, haar verzekerende, dat ze vlak\nin de buurt bleef. Toen mijn kindermeisje en haar vriend mij daarop\nallicht verschrikt wilden terughalen, was ik nergens meer te vinden.\nNa 't geen mijn laatste pleegmoeder mij vertelde, werd ik eerst\nverkocht aan een beroepsbedelares, die een lief kindje noodig had\nom mee op het gevoel van haar \"klanten\" te werken en daarna aan een\nzigeunerin, bij wie ik tot mijn zesde jaar bleef. Hoewel ik bij die\nvrouw een onrustig, zwervend leven leidde, had ik het toch niet slecht\nin dien tijd. Ze liet het mij aan niets ontbreken en zich \"moeder\"\ndoor mij noemen. Later openbaarde ze me dat ze mijn moeder niet was,\nmaar mij voor twaalf shilling van een andere vrouw gekocht had,\ndie haar het omstandige verhaal van mijn verdwijnen gedaan en haar\ngezegd had, dat ik Bob Singleton heette.\nNa verloop van nog eenigen tijd werd mijn zigeunermoeder, die nogal\nwat op haar kerfstok scheen te hebben, opgehangen, en daar ik toen\nnog te jong was om zelfstandig mijn zwervend beroep voort te zetten,\nmoest het armbestuur van het dorpje waar ik achterbleef, zich wel\nover mij ontfermen. Ik herinner me nog heel goed--hoewel de naam van\nhet plaatsje mij ontschoten is--dat ik naar de dorpsschool ging en\ndat de domin\u00e9 mij dikwijls op het hart drukte, braaf mijn best te\ndoen, mijn catechismus te leeren en God te eerbiedigen; dan kon ik,\nhoe arm ook, een goed mensch worden.\nIk geloof, dat ik nog een paar keer van woonplaats veranderde,\nmisschien doordat de verschillende gemeenten het niet eens waren over\nhet laatste domicilie der zigeunerin. Hoe het zij, het stadje waar\nik ten slotte onder dak werd gebracht, moet niet ver van zee hebben\ngelegen, want een scheepseigenaar die genegenheid voor mij opvatte,\nnam mij mee naar een plaatsje in de buurt van Southampton. Hier werd\nik leerjongen op een scheepstimmerwerf, waar een schip voor hem in\naanbouw was, en toen het van stapel liep, liet hij mij--nauwelijks\ntwaalf jaar oud--een reis meemaken naar Newfoundland.\nHet leventje aan boord beviel me best, en ik voldeed mijn meester\nzoo goed, dat hij me dikwijls \"mijn jongen\" noemde, en als hij 't\nme niet geweigerd had, omdat hij eigen kinderen bezat, zou ik hem\nook graag vader genoemd hebben. Op die wijze maakte ik drie of vier\nreizen met hem en was een forsche stevige knaap geworden, toen we,\nweer van Newfoundland terugkomende, door Algerijnsche zeeroovers\nwerden aangevallen.\nOm deze gebeurtenis bekommerde ik me niet bizonder veel, totdat\nde Turken mijn meester, die gedurende het gevecht een hoofdwonde\nhad opgeloopen, barbaars begonnen te mishandelen. Toen werd mijn\nverontwaardiging mij te machtig, 'tgeen me duur te staan kwam, want\nde roovers grepen mij aan en sloegen mij zoo onbarmhartig met een\nstok tegen de voetzolen, dat ik verscheiden dagen achtereen gaan noch\nstaan kon.\nDoch het geluk diende mij. Toen de zeeroovers namelijk, met ons schip\nop sleeptouw, naar de straat van Gibraltar koersten, werd hun kaper\naangevallen door twee Portugeesche oorlogsschepen en naar Lissabon\ngevoerd.\nZoo min als ik mij van mijn gevangenschap veel had aangetrokken,\ndeed ik dit ook van mijn ongedachte bevrijding. Veel goeds bracht ze\nme trouwens niet, daar mijn meester, de eenige vriend dien ik op de\ngansche wereld bezat, te Lissabon aan zijn verwondingen stierf. Er\nbleef mij dus niet veel anders over dan de hongerdood. Wat moest ik\nbeginnen, in een vreemd land, waar ik niemand kende en de taal niet\nverstond? En toch ging het mij beter dan ik had durven hopen, want\ntoen onze heele bemanning werd vrijgelaten, bleef ik, niet wetende\nwaarheen, in het schip achter, tot een der Portugeesche officieren\nmij na eenige dagen ontdekte en vroeg, wat \"die jonge Engelsche hond\"\ndaar uitvoerde en waarom ze hem niet aan wal zetten.\nIk begreep wel ongeveer wat hij zei, al verstond ik de woorden niet\nen kreeg een ontzettenden angst, want ik wist niet hoe ik aan den\nwal mijn kost zou moeten verdienen.\n\"Je moet hier vandaan,\" kwam de loods van het schip, een oude zeerob,\nmij in gebroken Engelsch vertellen.\n\"Maar waar moet ik dan heen?\" vroeg ik bezorgd.\n\"Dat kan me niet schelen,\" zei hij, \"naar je eigen land terug als\nje wilt.\"\n\"Hoe moet ik daar komen?\" vroeg ik weer.\n\"Heb je dan geen vrienden?\"\n\"Niets of niemand op de heele wereld dan dien hond,\" zei ik naar den\nscheepshond wijzende, die een stuk vleesch gestolen had, waarvan ik\nhem de helft voor mezelf had afgenomen.\n\"Dat ziet er treurig voor je uit, mijn jongen,\" zei hij goedhartig. \"Je\nmoet toch eten. Wil je met mij meegaan?\"\n\"Graag!\" riep ik, blij met die oplossing.\nZoo kwam ik dan bij den ouden loods in de kost, waar ik twee jaar\nlang een draaglijk leven leidde. Na verloop van dien tijd werd hij\nstuurman onder Don Garcia de Pimentesia de Carravallas, Kapitein van\neen Portugeesch galjoen, een grooten koopvaarder, uitgerust voor Goa,\naan de Westkust van Hindostan, en zoodra hij zijn aanstelling gekregen\nhad, bracht hij mij aan boord om de wacht te houden in zijn hut,\nwaarin hij brandewijn en allerlei lekkernijen voor onderweg verzamelde\nen later nog een aanzienlijken voorraad Europeesche goederen: linnen,\nkant, laken en andere wollen stoffen, verborg; alles onder voorwendsel\ndat het zijn kleeren waren.\nIk was nog te jong en te weinig op de hoogte van mijn beroep om\neen scheepsjournaal aan te leggen, hoewel mijn meester er mij toe\naanspoorde. Na eenigen tijd echter begon ik plezier te krijgen in\nzijn kaarten en logboeken, en daar ik behoorlijk schrijven geleerd\nhad, wat Latijn kende en dagelijks meer Portugeesch opving, kon ik\nmij langzamerhand wat scheepvaartkundige kennis eigen maken, al was\nze in de verste verte niet toereikend voor het avontuurlijke leven\ndat mij te wachten stond.\nOp deze reis zeilden we niet onmiddellijk naar Indi\u00eb, doch deden langs\neen omweg de kust van Brazili\u00eb aan, waar we--in de Allerheiligenbaai\nwas het--wel een honderd ton goederen losten en een grooten voorraad\ngoud, ettelijke kisten suiker en balen tabak innamen.\nOp last van den stuurman moest ik hier aan wal overnachten en op de\ngoederen van den Kapitein passen, wat ik met veel toewijding deed,\nhoewel ik tegelijkertijd kans zag me ongeveer twintig moidores (oude\nPortugeesche munt ter waarde van f 16 ongeveer) van het goud toe te\neigenen, dat de kooplui aan boord moesten brengen.\nVan hieraf hadden we een vrij voorspoedige reis naar Kaap de Goede\nHoop, en ik stond bij mijn meester aangeschreven als een ijverige\nen eerlijke jongen. Nu, het eerste was ik wel, maar op het tweede\nkon ik niet bogen, en de vele oneerlijke handelingen, die ik op mijn\nreizen te zien kreeg, hadden mij ook niet bizonder fijngevoelig op\ndat punt gemaakt. Ter belooning voor mijn dienstijver, stelde de\nkapitein mij aan tot ondervictualiemeester. Ik had niet het toezicht\nop alle voorraden aan boord, doch alleen over datgene, wat de Kapitein\nzich voor zijn eigen gebruik uit die voorraden wenschte, een baantje\ndat mij de schoonste gelegenheid bood, behalve mijns meesters maag,\nook mijn eigene uitstekend te verzorgen.\nOngeveer zeven maanden nadat we Lissabon verlaten hadden, kwamen we\nte Goa aan, waar we acht maanden bleven. Ik had in dien tijd weinig\nof niets te doen, daar mijn meester, de stuurman, meestal aan den wal\nbleef, en ergerde mij, al was ik zelf lang geen heilig boontje, aan\nde leugenachtigheid, het drinken, vloeken en tieren der Portugeesche\nbemanning, die zich beroemden op hun dapperheid, doch--de goeden niet\nte na gesproken--door en door lafhartig en wreed waren.\nMaar wat kon ik beginnen? Ik zat eenmaal in 't schuitje en moest\ndus wel meevaren en mij zoo goed mogelijk in de omstandigheden\nschikken. Zooals ik reeds verteld heb, had mijn meester mij aan den\nKapitein afgestaan, om hem een gedeelte van den dag behulpzaam te\nzijn. Later hoorde ik, dat de stuurman daar een halve moidore per\nmaand voor ontving en dat hij mijn naam op de scheepsrol gezet had,\nzoodat ik niet anders verwachtte, dan dat mij bij de eerstvolgende\nsoldijbetaling ook iets voor mezelf zou worden afgestaan.\nMaar ik had mijn rekening buiten den waard gemaakt. Wel had de stuurman\nmij toen ik in nood zat, tot zich genomen, doch nu merkte ik, dat het\nzijn bedoeling was geweest zooveel mogelijk van mij te profiteeren,\nen toen ik nu in Goa, waar ons vier maanden soldij werd uitbetaald,\niemand op hem afstuurde om met hem over het loon te spreken, raakte\nhij buiten zichzelf van drift, schold mij uit voor Engelschen hond,\njongen heiden en allerlei fraais en dreigde mij met de inquisitie.\nGelukkig echter kwam de priester, die ze op hun reis hadden\nmeegenomen--de scheepskapelaan, zooals we hem noemden--mij te\nhulp. Zoodra hij zag dat ik niet het flauwste begrip van eenigen\ngodsdienst had en de matrozen mij alles konden laten zeggen, stelde\nhij mij eenige vragen, die ik eenvoudig en onbevangen, beantwoordde,\nwaarop hij den stuurman verzekerde, dat hij voor mijn geloof kon\ninstaan. Feitelijk hoopte hij mijn ziel te redden en daardoor een\nGodgevallig werk te doen, en dus trachtte hij me in den kortst\nmogelijken tijd tot een geloovig katholiek te fatsoeneeren.\nNadat ik hem mijn oneenigheid met mijn meester had uitgelegd,\nhem verteld had, dat ik den stuurman die zich te Lissabon over\nmij ontfermd had, graag wilde dienen, doch meende eenige aanspraak\nop loon te kunnen maken, deed de kapelaan zijn uiterste best hem\ntot ander inzicht te brengen; alles te vergeefs! De geestelijke,\nnoch iemand anders kon hem overtuigen, dat ik wel zijn knecht,\ndoch volstrekt niet zijn slaaf was. Hij hield stijf en strak vol,\ndat hij me in Algeri\u00eb gevangen genomen had en ik een Turk was, die\nslechts voorwendde een Engelsche jongen te zijn om z\u00f3\u00f3 mijn vrijheid\nte herkrijgen. Maar 't zou mij niet baten; hij scheen vast besloten\nmij als een ongeloovigen hond aan de inquisitie uit te leveren.\nIn doodsangst bij dit dreigement, besloot ik zoo gauw ik de kans\nschoon zag, bij hem weg te loopen. Aanvankelijk was daar echter niet\nveel kijk op, daar er geen andere schepen in de haven lagen dan een\npaar Perzische kustvaarders, en vluchtte ik aan land, dan zou hij\nme gauw weer in den kraag gepakt en aan boord gesleept hebben. Geen\nandere weg dus voorloopig dan geduld oefenen, en dat begon me hoe\nlanger hoe moeilijker te vallen, want na het gebeurde ging hij me\nslecht behandelen. Niet alleen verminderde hij mijn rantsoen, maar\nhij sloeg en mishandelde mij voor elk nietig vergrijp, zoodat mijn\nleven bijna ondraaglijk werd.\nDe ondergane wreedheden en de onmogelijkheid er aan te ontsnappen,\nbrachten mijn geest op allerlei boosaardige gedachten, en eindelijk,\nnergens anders uitkomst ziende, besloot ik den stuurman te\nvermoorden. Maar daar ik wapens noch vergift tot mijn beschikking\nhad, bleef het gelukkig bij het heillooze plan en moest ik me wel\nonder zijn juk buigen, tot het schip, toen het geheel geladen was,\nweer zee koos naar Portugal.\nVan deze reis is mij zeer levendig bijgebleven, dat we op de\nhoogte van Kaap de Goede Hoop door een geweldigen storm uit het\nW. Z. W. werden verrast, die ons, zes dagen en zes nachten lang,\nterugdreef in oostelijke richting, en dat we daarna verscheiden dagen\nv\u00f3\u00f3r den wind zeilende, ten langen leste het anker uitwierpen op de\nkust van Madagaskar.\nDe storm was z\u00f3\u00f3 hevig geweest, dat het galjoen veel schade had geleden\nen eenigen tijd noodig had om gekalefaterd te worden. Tot dit doel had\nmijn meester het schip op een goede reede gebracht, waar wij, ongeveer\neen halve mijl uit de kust, in zes-en-twintig vadem diep water lagen.\nNauwelijks waren de handen aan 't werk geslagen, of de bemanning,\ndie niet op tijd was uitbetaald, sloeg aan 't muiten, en de twist\nliep z\u00f3\u00f3 hoog, dat ze den Kapitein dreigden, hem aan land te zullen\nzetten en met den koopvaarder naar Goa terug te zeilen. Daar de\nKap'tein vermoedde, dat eenigen het op zijn leven gemunt hadden,\nbracht hij, deels door dwang deels door omkooperij, twee der matrozen\ntot bekentenis omtrent de aanstichters van den opstand. De belhamels\nwerden onmiddellijk in verzekerde bewaring genomen, en toen deze ook\nverscheiden hunners makker aanklaagden, duurde het niet lang of zestien\nleden van de bemanning, waaronder ook ik, zuchtten in de ijzers.\nHet hoofd kwijt door 't hem bedreigende gevaar en besloten het schip\nvolkomen te zuiveren, onderwierp de Kapitein ons stuk voor stuk\naan een streng verhoor en veroordeelde ons ten slotte allemaal ter\ndood. De kwartiermeester en een der kanoniers werden op staanden voet\nopgehangen, terwijl ik en de anderen geen beter lot verwachtten. Tot\nmijn groote verlichting stelde de gezagvoerder zich echter met de\nexecutie dezer twee tevreden en werd aan de rest, op hun nederig\nverzoek en hun belofte van goed gedrag in de toekomst, vergiffenis\nverleend. Aan vijf echter, waaronder ik, werd gelast het schip te\nverlaten en op het eiland achter te blijven.\nMijn meester, die mijn diensten niet graag missen wilde, wendde al\nzijn invloed aan, om mijn vrijspraak uit te lokken, doch het mocht\nhem niet gelukken. Ten onrechte meende de kapitein, dat ik het op\nzijn leven gemunt had, en hij wilde dus van geen pardon weten.\n\"Je kunt hem aan boord houden voor mijn part,\" zei hij, \"maar dan zal\nhij hangen.\" Zoo zag ik dus met mijn lotgenooten, ons achtergelaten\nworden op Madagaskar te gemoet! Wat mij persoonlijk betreft, zonder\nveel angst of ongerustheid. Het vrije, onafhankelijke leven trok mij\nsterk aan, hoewel ik er al heel slecht op was voorbereid. Opvoeding had\nik nooit genoten en mijn leerschool onder 't scheepsvolk had er niet\ntoe bijgedragen, mij een goed begrip van plicht en verantwoordelijkheid\nin te prenten. Mijn leven was slechts een aaneenschakeling van gevaren\nen ongunstige omstandigheden geweest en een ernstige gedachte,\nof het streven naar iets goeds, had nog nooit in mijn ziel wortel\ngeschoten. Mijn jeugd--ik was omstreeks zeventien jaar--en mijn\nzorgelooze, opgewekte natuur brachten echter het voordeel mee, dat\nze mij de naaste toekomst moedig onder de oogen deden zien en mij de\nvertwijfeling bespaarden, die zich van mijn mede-veroordeelden meester\nmaakte bij 't vooruitzicht te verhongeren of door wilde dieren of\nkannibalen te worden verscheurd.\nToen ik vernam dat mijn meester, de stuurman, een goed woordje voor\nmij gedaan had, verzocht ik hem nog eenmaal te mogen spreken, en toen\nhij werkelijk bij mij kwam, viel ik op de knie\u00ebn en smeekte hem, mij\nal het leed wat ik hem had aangedaan, te vergeven. De gedachte aan\nden moordaanslag dien ik tegen hem in 't zin had gehad, vervulde mij\ntoen reeds met zoo'n sterk afgrijzen, dat het weinig scheelde, of ik\nhad een volledige bekentenis voor hem afgelegd. Hij verzekerde mij,\ndat hij alles al in 't werk had gesteld om den kapitein tot andere\ngedachten te brengen en hij mij niet anders kon raden dan mij geduldig\nin mijn lot te schikken. Mochten ze aan de Kaap een Portugeesch schip\ntreffen, dan zou hij den gezagvoerder verzoeken zee te kiezen en ons\nzoo mogelijk af te halen.\nDaarna verzocht ik hem nog, mijn kleeren mee aan den wal te mogen\nnemen, maar hij antwoordde mij:\n\"Ik vrees dat je weinig behoefte aan kleeren hebben zult. Lang zullen\njullie 't er niet uithouden, want naar ik hoor zijn de inwoners\nmenscheneters.\"\nVermoedende dat hij dit maar zei om me angstig te maken, pochte ik:\n\"Daar ben ik niet zoo bang voor, als voor 't gebrek aan\nvoedsel. Wanneer die inboorlingen kannibalen zijn, loopen ze meer\ngevaar door ons te worden opgegeten dan wij door hen; als we ze\nmaar te pakken kunnen krijgen! Mijn allergrootste zorg is nog,\ndat we geen wapens zullen hebben, om ons te verdedigen.--Geef mij\ndan in Godsnaam een geweer en een sabel met wat kruit en kogels,\"\nsmeekte ik ten slotte, toen hij onbewogen bleef.\n\"Dwaasheid! Wat zou je ermee kunnen beginnen tegenover zoo'n talrijke\nen bloeddorstige bevolking,\" weerde hij me af.\n\"Maar dan kunnen we ons ten minste nog een tijdlang verweren,\" bleef\nik smeeken.\nEindelijk liet hij zich in zooverre verbidden, dat hij beloofde den\nkapitein mijn verzoek over te brengen, en den volgenden dag ontving ik\nwerkelijk een geweer, met de boodschap, dat de kap'tein de ammunitie\nniet eerder wilde verstrekken dan op het oogenblik, waarop wij aan land\nzouden zijn gezet en het schip op het punt stond zee te kiezen. Ook\nzond hij mij de weinige kleeren die ik nog op het schip had.\nTwee dagen later werden we alle vijf naar wal geroeid: mijn lotgenooten\nop hun verzoek, evenals ik, van geweren en kruit voorzien.\nOnze eerste indrukken van de eilandbewoners waren hoogst ongunstig. Wij\nontstelden van hun woest, wreed uiterlijk, doch 't lijkt me niet\nonwaarschijnlijk dat we door het beeld dat ons van hen was opgehangen,\nalles erger zagen dan het was. In ieder geval bleek al heel gauw,\ndat ze geen kannibalen waren. Ze toonden zich ook niet bizonder schuw,\nmaar kwamen bij ons zitten, om onze kleeren te betasten en ons aan te\nstaren, terwijl ze door gebaren te kennen gaven ons voedsel te willen\nverschaffen. Eerst brachten ze ons niets dan planten en wortels,\nmaar later kregen we ook vleesch en gevogelte in overvloed.\nZooals te begrijpen was deed deze ondervinding ons alle vijf nieuwen\nmoed vatten, en mijn makkers, eerst geheel aan den grond, monterden nu\nplotseling op en trachtten de inboorlingen te beduiden dat we goede\nvrienden wilden zijn en op hun eiland blijven, 't geen hun scheen\nte verheugen. Natuurlijk hadden ze geen flauw idee, hoezeer we hen\nnoodig hadden en hen in ons hart vreesden.\nBij nadere overweging besloten we echter slechts zoo lang te wachten\ntot het schip het anker gelicht had. Dan zouden we--de inwoners in den\nwaan latende dat we weggereisd waren--trachten een streek te vinden\ndie onbewoond was en daar het leven trachten te houden, uitziende\nnaar een vaartuig dat ons redden of misschien daar stranden zou.\nOnze koopvaarder bleef nog een veertien dagen op de reede liggen,\ndaar de herstellingen niet zoo gauw waren aangebracht, als de kapitein\nverwacht had, en gedurende dien tijd brachten verschillende leden van\nde bemanning ons telkens voedsel, waardoor de inboorlingen zagen dat\nwij tot het galjoen behoorden en ons beleefd behandelden. We woonden\nin een soort van hut, die we van takken gemaakt hadden en verborgen\nons somtijds 's nachts in het bosch om hen te doen gelooven dat\nwe vertrokken waren. Intusschen kwam hun ware aard te voorschijn\nen begrepen we dat ze alleen vriendelijk waren geweest uit vrees,\ndoch ons later niet zouden sparen.\nHet zien van hun wreedheden maakte mijn kameraden haast waanzinnig van\nangst voor het lot dat hen wachtte, en een van hen, een timmerman,\nzwom op een nacht naar het schip, hoewel dit toen een mijl in zee\nlag--en smeekte z\u00f3\u00f3 dringend te worden opgenomen, dat de kapitein zich\neindelijk, na hem drie uur te hebben laten rondzwemmen, liet vermurwen.\nToen de man eenmaal aan boord was, hield hij niet op bij den\nbevelvoerder en alle overige officieren onze voorspraak te zijn,\ndoch tot den allerlaatsten dag bleef de kap'tein onverbiddelijk, en\ntoen werkelijk het anker gelicht was en de booten aan dek geheschen\nwerden, kwam de geheele bemanning nog eenmaal bijeen op 't halfdek,\nwaar de gezaghebber toen met den eersten stuurman op en neer liep. Den\nbootsman werd opgedragen voor ons te spreken. Hij viel voor den\nkap'tein op de knie\u00ebn en bad hem in de nederigste bewoordingen ons\nvieren weer aan boord te nemen, voor onze trouw instaande, of ons\nanders tot Lissabon gevangen te houden en ons daar aan 't gerecht over\nte leveren; alles liever dan ons te laten vermoorden door barbaren\nof verscheuren door wilde dieren. Langen tijd gaf de kap'tein geen\nantwoord op het verzoek, doch ten slotte liet hij den bootsman vatten\nen voor den kaapstander geeselen.\nHOOFDSTUK II.\nAAN WAL GEZET\nNa dit strenge optreden, smeekte een der matrozen, wat stoutmoediger\ndan de anderen, den kapitein, n\u00f2g eenige mannen aan wal te zetten\nom hun kameraads te helpen in hun strijd tegen de wilden, maar 't\nmocht niet baten. Geprikkeld door 't verzet dat hij overal om zich\nheen voelde, trad de gezagvoerder aan de ballustrade van het halfdek\nen sprak de bemanning kalm toe, wel overtuigd dat--had hij een ruwen\ntoon aangeslagen--zeker twee derde het schip zou hebben verlaten.\n\"'t Is zoowel in jullie eigen belang als in het mijne,\" zei hij, \"dat\nik tot dezen ernstigen maatregel ben overgegaan. Muiterij aan boord\nstaat gelijk met verraad in een koninklijk paleis, en ik zou tegenover\nde eigenaars van schip en lading niet verantwoord zijn, wanneer\nik menschen aan boord duldde, die er met de misdadigste gedachten\nrondloopen. Zelf zou ik hartelijk wenschen, dat ik ze ergens anders\naan wal had kunnen zetten, waar ze een vreedzamer bevolking hadden\ngetroffen, of dat ik ze aan een rechtbank in een Christenmaatschappij\nhad kunnen uitleveren. Had ik bepaald hun ongeluk op 't oog gehad,\ndan had ik ze, evengoed als de beide anderen, aan boord kunnen\nterechtstellen. Jullie ziet, ik geef ze graag een kans, maar ik kan\nonmogelijk mijn eigen leven en het behoud van het schip, waarvoor\nik de verantwoordelijkheid draag, in de waagschaal stellen. Mochten\ner evenwel onder jullie zijn, die liever het schip verlaten dan hun\nplicht te doen, dan geef ik hen hiertoe volle vrijheid, al meen ik dit\nniet aan jullie verdiend te hebben. Maar \u00e1lles liever--zelfs al zou\nik ook alleen aan boord moeten blijven--dan met een troep verraders\nonder zeil te gaan, die 't op mijn leven gemunt hebben.\"\nDeze toespraak werd met zooveel overtuiging tot de matrozen gericht\nen was op zichzelf zoo redelijk, dat de meesten van hen zich voor\n't oogenblik bij de weigering neerlegden. Anderen evenwel staken\nde hoofden bijeen en schenen maar niet tot een besluit te kunnen\nkomen. Tegen den avond--de wind was gaan liggen en de kap'tein had\nbevel gegeven pas tegen den morgen het anker te lichten, meldden\nzich drie en twintig mannen, waaronder twee timmerlieden en de\nchirurgijnsassistent bij den eersten stuurman. Ze verzochten hem den\nkapitein mede te deelen, dat ze aan wal gezet wenschten te worden om\ndaar, zoo noodig met hun kameraads te sterven. Door versterking van hun\naantal vertrouwden ze echter groote kans te hebben zich tegenover de\nwilden te handhaven tot zich eindelijk misschien eens een gelegenheid\nvoor zou doen op 't een of ander schip naar hun vaderland te ontkomen.\nMaar de eerste stuurman had geen lust in het \"akkevietje.\"\n\"Als jullie besloten zijn 't schip te verlaten, raad ik je aan,\nmorgenochtend heel vroeg de groote sloep te nemen en stiekem naar\nland te roeien. Laat een briefje achter, dat jullie de sloep eerlijk\nzult afleveren aan de mannen die hij er om zendt. Ik beloof je zoolang\nmijn mond te zullen houden.\"\nEn zoo gebeurde het.\nEen uur voor het aanbreken van den dag, werd de groote sloep gestreken\nen scheepten de drie-en-twintig mannen zich in, ruimschoots voorzien\nvan snaphanen, hartsvangers, pistolen, hellebaarden en pieken, en\nmet een flinken voorraad kruit en kogels. Veel proviand hadden ze\nniet kunnen bemachtigen--enkel een kleine vijftig brooden--maar hun\nkisten met kleeren, instrumenten, gereedschappen en boeken werden\nalle mee ingeladen, en alles ging z\u00f3\u00f3 stil in zijn werk, dat ze reeds\nhalverwege de kust waren, eer de kap'tein er iets van bemerkte.\nZoodra hij de vluchtelingen zag verdwijnen, gaf hij den\nkanonniersmaat--de kanonnier zelf lag ziek ter kooi--bevel op hen te\nschieten, maar tot zijn groote ergernis moest hij hooren, dat de maat\ntot de deserteurs behoorde en ze door zijn toedoen allerlei wapens\nen ammunitie hadden kunnen meenemen.\nToen, begrijpende dat er niets aan te doen was, nam de kap'tein den\nschijn aan alsof 't gebeurde hem onverschillig liet en sprak hij de\noverige manschappen wijselijk zeer vriendschappelijk toe.\n\"Ik verheug me,\" zei hij, \"over den trouw en de bekwaamheid van mijn\novergebleven bemanning en heb besloten, het loon dat de deserteurs\ntoekwam, onder jullie te verdeelen. Ons schip is nu gelukkig geheel\ngezuiverd van dat onbetrouwbare muiterspak, dat naar mijn vaste\novertuiging niet de minste reden had tot ontevredenheid.\"\nNa deze tweede toespraak werd den kapitein de brief overhandigd waarin\nde vluchtingen verklaarden niets te hebben meegenomen wat hun eigendom\nniet was, behalve eenige wapens en ammunitie, die ze beslist noodig\nhadden, zoowel tot zelfverweer als om vogels en andere dieren te dooden\nvoor hun levensonderhoud. Daar ze evenwel een vrij groote som te goed\nhadden aan soldij, meenden ze de meegenomen artikelen daarmee dubbel\nen dwars betaald te hebben. De sloep zouden ze uitleveren aan wie hij\nwenschte te zenden, zonder eenige poging van hun kant hun vroegere\nkameraads tot medeplichtigheid over te halen. Onder aan den brief\nverzochten ze den kapitein alleen nog dringend, hun n\u00f3g een vaatje\nkruit en andere ammunitie te zenden en hun toe te staan den mast en\nhet zeil van de sloep te houden, om, als ze eens zelf kans mochten\nzien een boot te maken, zee te kunnen kiezen, vertrouwende dat hun\ngesternte hen in behouden haven zou voeren.\nNa lezing van het eerbiedig gestelde geschrift riep de kap'tein de\nmannen nog eens op het halfdek bijeen, las den brief voor en sprak:\n\"Hoewel de deserteurs alle aanspraak op mijn welwillendheid verbeurd\nhebben, wensch ik hun lot toch niet noodeloos te verzwaren. Ik ben\ndus besloten hun wat meer ammunitie te verstrekken. In plaats van\nhet eene vat kruit waarom ze verzoeken, zal ik hun er twee zenden,\nen verder kogels, lood en kogelvormen naar verhouding. En om jullie\nte toonen dat ik geen kwaad met kwaad wensch te vergelden, zal ik\nnog een vaatje rum en een zak brood voor hen doen meegeven om hen in\n't leven te houden, tot ze zich zelf van voedsel kunnen voorzien.\"\nDe bemanning juichte den kap'tein voor zijn edelmoedigheid toe en ieder\nvan hen zonderde iets van zijn bezittingen voor ons af. Omstreeks drie\nuur in den middag kwam de pinas met zijn zoo welkomen inhoud voor\nden wal en leverden wij de groote sloep uit. Voorzichtigheidshalve\nhad de kap'tein wel zorg gedragen enkel zeer beproefde matrozen naar\nons toe te zenden, uit vrees dat anderen zich misschien nog door ons\nzouden laten overreden bij ons te blijven, of ons mee terug te nemen,\nwat hij ten strengste verboden had.\nMet ons zeven-en-twintigen--allen behoorlijk van wapenen\nvoorzien--vormden we nu een flinken troep, waaronder, tot ons groote\ngeluk, twee timmerlui, een kanonnier en, wat meer waard was dan al\nhet andere, een chirurgijn of dokter, dat wil zeggen een assistent\nvan een geneesheer te Goa, daar door ons aangemonsterd.\nDe timmerlieden hadden een welvoorziene kist met gereedschappen en\nde dokter al zijn instrumenten en medicijnen meegebracht; alles bij\nelkaar gerekend, bedroeg onze bagage heel wat, ofschoon enkelen van\nons, waaronder ikzelf, weinig meer bezaten dan de kleeren die ze aan\nhun lijf droegen.\nMaar ik had toch iets van groote waarde, waarop zij geen van allen\naanspraak konden maken, n.l. de twee-en-twintig gouden moidores, die ik\nin Brazili\u00eb gestolen had en nog een paar kleinere goudstukken. Alleen\nde kleinere goudstukken liet ik zien en \u00e9\u00e9n moidore, en geen van mijn\nlotgenooten had ook maar het geringste vermoeden van mijn rijkdom,\ndaar ze mij allen kenden als een arme jongen, die door mijn vroegeren\nwreeden meester uit medelijden opgenomen en als een slaaf behandeld\nwas.\n't Is te begrijpen dat wij vieren, die het eerst op het eiland waren\nafgezet, meer dan gelukkig waren over de komst der overigen, ofschoon\nwe eerst vreesden dat ze gezonden zouden zijn om ons terug te halen\nen op te hangen.\nHet eerste groote nieuws dat ze ons vertelden, nadat ze ons in\n't kort het verhaal hadden gedaan van hun goed geslaagde vlucht,\nwas--dat onze vroegere makker de timmerman veilig en wel aan boord\nwas aangeland. Toen hij in zijn angst van ons wegliep, hadden we nooit\ngedacht dat hij werkelijk het schip zwemmende zou kunnen bereiken. We\ngeloofden eerder dat hij in de bosschen verdwaald geraakt en nu in\nde handen der inboorlingen was gevallen of wel door wilde beesten\nverscheurd, beide voorstellingen buitengewoon geschikt om ons met de\ngrootste zorg voor onze eigen naaste toekomst te vervullen.\nDaar we nu, mits we elkaar trouw ter zijde stonden, met onze\nbewapening een vrij aanzienlijke macht vormden tegenover de barbaren,\ngaven we elkaar plechtig de hand, dat geen van ons zich ooit zou\nafscheiden, doch dat we samen zouden leven en sterven; dat we het\nwild dat we mochten dooden, eerlijk zouden verdeelen en ons in alle\nmeeningsverschillen bij het oordeel der meerderheid zouden neerleggen;\ndat we een kapitein zouden benoemen, dien we, op straffe des doods,\nhadden te gehoorzamen; dat we dit ambt beurtelings zouden vervullen,\nmaar dat onze aanvoerder het oordeel der anderen moest inroepen en\nniet tegen den wensch der meerderheid mocht handelen.\nNadat wij deze regels hadden vastgesteld, besloten wij maatregelen\nte treffen voor onze voedselvoorziening en hiertoe verbinding te\nzoeken met de inboorlingen. Hoewel ze ons wel van nut waren en\neetbare artikelen wisten te verschaffen, bemoeiden we ons toch niet\nmeer met hen dan strikt noodzakelijk was, daar we hen als een dom,\nruw, gulzig en wreed menschensoort leerden kennen, erger nog dan\neenig ander onbeschaafd volk, dat we tot nu toe hadden ontmoet. Voor\nons levensonderhoud zouden we wel in hoofdzaak aangewezen zijn op\nonze geweren; herten, gevogelte en allerlei wilde dieren waren er\nin overvloed.\nWe ondervonden dat de inboorlingen zich weinig aan ons gelegen lieten\nliggen en zich er blijkbaar niet om bekommerden of wij op het eiland\ndachten te blijven of niet. Blijkbaar verkeerden ze in het denkbeeld\ndat ons schip nog op de reede lag, terwijl het kort nadat de groote\nsloep aan boord was geheschen, zee gekozen had en voor goed uit ons\ngezicht verdwenen was.\nDen volgenden morgen trokken twee van ons in de eene richting, twee in\nde andere er op uit om te zien welk soort van terrein we om ons heen\nhadden, en al heel gauw kwamen we tot de geruststellende ontdekking,\ndat het eiland buitengewoon vruchtbaar was en uitstekend geschikt om\nte bewonen. Jammer alleen, dat de wezens die we overal aantroffen,\nnauwelijks menschelijk konden genoemd worden.\nOp verschillende plaatsen zagen we vee en eetbare waren, maar hoe\ngoed een en ander ons ook te pas zou zijn gekomen, waagden we het\ntoch niet er de hand op te leggen, vreezende ons heel de barbaarsche\nbevolking tot vijand te maken. Liever gingen wij op het voorstel, van\ntwee onzer in om te trachten door gebarentaal met de zwarten te spreken\nen zoo uit te vorschen, hoe hun gevoelens ten opzichte van ons waren.\nBehoorlijk gewapend, togen elf van onze mannen er met dit doel op uit\nen kwamen terug met het bericht, dat ze eenige inboorlingen ontmoet\nhadden, die zich niet onwillig betoonden, maar schuw en angstig\nvoor hun geweren waren geweest. Blijkbaar wisten ze dus waarvoor die\nvuurwapens dienden.\nToen de onzen door teekenen beduid hadden, dat ze voedsel verlangden,\nkwamen ze met kruiden, vruchten, wortels en wat melk aandragen,\ndie ze evenwel niet van zins waren weg te geven, doch slechts te\nverruilen voor iets dat wij hen mochten aanbieden.\nOnze mannen stonden een oogenblik verlegen, daar ze niets hadden\nmeegebracht, maar gelukkig kwam een van hen op den inval hun een mes\nvoor te houden, en dit wekte z\u00f3\u00f3 sterk hun begeerte, dat ze er hevige\nruzie over kregen. Toen de matroos merkte hoeveel het hun waard was,\nbesloot hij het ook niet voor een kleinigheid af te staan, liet ze\ntegen elkaar opbieden en gaf het ten slotte in ruil voor een geit.\nDaarop toonde een der andere matrozen hun ook een mes, en toen ze niets\nmeer bij zich hadden, goed genoeg om er voor in de plaats te geven,\nmaakte een der wilden teekenen dat ze iets moois zouden gaan halen,\nen na drie uren wachtens, kwamen de zwarten terug met een kleine,\nkorte, dikke koe, die ze voor het mes inwisselden.\nSchijnbaar hadden we dus goede zaken gemaakt, maar ons ongeluk was,\ndat we geen kramerijen of andere koopwaar bezaten, want onze messen\nwaren van even groote waarde voor ons zelf als voor hen, en we zouden\ner ook zeker nooit twee hebben weggegeven, als we niet zoo verlegen\nwaren geweest om voedsel.\nMaar na verloop van eenige dagen ondervonden we dat de bosschen\nwemelden van wild, 't geen we, zonder hun aanstoot te geven, konden\ndooden, zoodat een paar van ons geregeld ter jacht trokken en nooit\nmet leege handen thuis kwamen.\nVerder beraadslaagden we over ons geld, en besloten we al wat we\nhadden bijeen te brengen om het zoolang mogelijk te doen strekken. En\ntoen mijn beurt kwam, haalde ik een moidore te voorschijn en de twee\nlosse dollars die ik nog rijk was.\nMet het goudstuk wilde ik een gunstigen indruk op hen maken en\ntegelijk voorkomen dat ze mijn kleeren doorzochten. Mijn toeleg\ngelukte volkomen; ze prezen me dat ik zoo eerlijk al wat ik bezat in\nde gemeenschappelijke kas stortte.\nOns geld bewees ons echter niet zulke goede diensten als we verwacht\nhadden, daar de menschen er gebruik noch waarde van kenden en geen\nflauw begrip toonden te bezitten van de meerdere koopkracht van goud\nboven zilver. Onze voorraad geld--toch al niet groot--zou dus niet\nlang strekken om ons van provisie te voorzien.\nBij een volgende beraadslaging bleken we 't er allen over eens, dat\nwe moesten trachten zoo spoedig mogelijk van dit verwenschte eiland\nweg te komen. Ik had, wat mij betreft, het maken van een plan graag\naan hen overgelaten en was liever de bosschen ingegaan om te jagen,\nmaar ze wilden mij niet toestaan er alleen op uit te trekken, uit\nvrees voor de wilde dieren die het eiland onveilig maakten, zooals\nwe later tot onze schade zouden ondervinden.\nMet een plan tot ontkoming raakten we niet verder dan dat we, onder\nleiding van onze twee timmerlieden, zouden trachten een boot te bouwen\nen daarmee in zee te gaan, hopende den terugweg naar Goa te vinden,\nof ergens anders te landen, vanwaar we Portugal weer zouden kunnen\nbereiken.\nAl heel spoedig hierna werd met het bouwen van een boot begonnen,\nmaar het bleek dat onze mannen de moeilijkheden verre hadden\nonderschat. Gebrek aan zagen, aan spijkers, pennen en bouten, werk,\npik en teer om de naden te dichten, maakte de onderneming zoo goed\nals hopeloos, en na lang en vruchteloos denken en tobben stelde een\nder matrozen voor, in plaats van een sloep, liever een kano te maken,\nwat veel eenvoudiger zou zijn.\n\"Maar,\" merkte een der anderen op \"we zouden immers nooit in een kano\nden Oceaan kunnen oversteken naar de kust van Malabar! En niet alleen\nzouden we er ons niet mee in zee kunnen wagen, maar 't vaartuigje zou\nons ook niet kunnen houden, zeven en twintig man met al onze bagage\nen proviand!\"\nTegen dit bezwaar viel niet veel in te brengen, en toen ik nu zag dat\nze voor 't oogenblik ten einde raad waren, nam ik de vrijheid--wat\nanders mijn gewoonte niet was--met een voorstel voor den dag te komen.\n\"'t Lijkt me niet onmogelijk,\" zei ik, \"een kano te bouwen, groot en\nsterk genoeg voor ons allen, maar Goa of de kust van Malabar zouden we\nnooit bereiken, al was 't alleen maar omdat we geen drinkwater genoeg\nkunnen meenemen voor zoo'n lange reis. Het avontuur zou stellig op\nonzen ondergang uitloopen; 't zou gelijk staan met zelfmoord. Maar\ntoch ben ik er v\u00f3\u00f3r, een kano te maken.\"\nHierop vielen er mij een paar in de rede en riepen schamper uit:\n\"Als je ons niets nieuws hebt te vertellen, had je je mond wel kunnen\nhouden! Jij vindt de onderneming dus even gevaarlijk als wij. Wat\npraat je dan van t\u00f2ch een kano te willen maken? Dan kunnen we ons de\nmoeite wel besparen.\"\n\"Maar mijn idee is niet,\" verdedigde ik mij, \"om in een kano\nte ontsnappen, maar om langs de kust van ons eiland te kruisen,\nin afwachting van een grooter vaartuig dat we misschien konden\nbemachtigen. Elk volk, hoe barbaarsch ook overigens, bevaart op de\neen of andere wijze de zee; als we een ruimere boot veroverd hadden,\nkonden we ons daar weer verder mee wagen en mogelijk ten slotte een\nklein schip overrompelen, dat ons zou brengen waar we maar wilden.\"\n\"Een mooi plan!\" riep de een spottend, de ander in ernst.\n\"Ja, ja!\" vond een derde (onze kanonnier) \"de Engelsche hond heeft\nons een prachtigen raad gegeven, maar hij vergeet \u00e9\u00e9n ding, dat hij\nons op die manier allemaal aan de galg brengt. Eerst een boot, daarna\neen schip stelen--want daar komt het toch feitelijk op neer--maakt\nons allemaal tot zeeroovers, en het eind van 't lied zal zijn, dat\nwe alle zeven-en-twintig moeten hangen.\"\n\"Goed!\" riep een der timmerlui. \"Dan maar als zeeroovers! Ik wil\nliever de kans loopen als zeeroover gehangen te worden dan hier van\nhonger om te komen.\n\"Ja!\" vielen de anderen hem bij, \"de raad lijkt nog zoo gek niet. Laten\nwe in ieder geval maar een kano bouwen.\"\nEn zoo moest de kanonnier voor de overmacht zwichten. Maar toe we\nde vergadering ophieven, kwam hij naar me toe, bestudeerde met de\ngrootste aandacht mijn handpalmen en toen mijn gezicht, en zei:\n\"Mijn jongen, neem je in acht; je bent geboren om kwaad te doen en\nhebt al heel jong slechte zeerooverspraktijken geleerd. Houd je voor\ngewaarschuwd, of je zult een gemeene dief worden!\"\n\"Waar ik nog eenmaal toe komen zal,\" antwoordde ik lachend, \"kan ik\nnu nog moeilijk zeggen. Maar in den nood waarin wij nu verkeerden,\nzou ik zonder eenig gewetensbezwaar het eerste het beste vaartuig\novermeesteren, dat we mochten ontmoeten. Mijn vurigste wensch is,\ndat dit oogenblik niet ver meer af mag zijn en we onze vrijheid\nspoedig zullen herkrijgen.\"\nNauwelijks had ik uitgesproken, of een der mannen die aan den ingang\nvan onze hut had gestaan, kwam naar ons toe, roepende dat de timmerman,\nop een heuvel op den uitkijk, een zeil zag.\nIn minder dan geen tijd waren we allen den heuvel opgestormd, van\nwaar de timmerman ons onder heftig armgezwaai bleef toeschreeuwen:\n\"Een zeil! Een zeil!\" Maar al konden we ook allen duidelijk een\nschip zien, de afstand was te groot om door eenig signaal zijn\naandacht te trekken. Toch sleepten we een berg hout aan en stookten\neen vuur, om zooveel mogelijk rook te maken, doch te vergeefs. Door\neen perspectief-kijker, die de kanonnier bij zich droeg, kon hij\nwaarnemen dat het schip, onbewust van onze aanwezigheid op het eiland,\nmet volle zeilen--de wind was O.N.O.--naar Kaap de Goede Hoop stevende.\nOnze blijdschap was dus al heel gauw in droefheid verkeerd, en om onze\nzinnen te verzetten, begonnen we maar onmiddellijk aan onze kano. Hard\nwerkende en van drie bijlen voorzien, hadden we vier dagen noodig\nom een grooten boom, dien we voor ons vaartuig op 't oog hadden,\nom te hakken en uit te hollen, en toen we onze eenvoudige boot in\n't water hadden gesleept en ze behoorlijk zeeklaar bleek, waren we\neven trotsch en gelukkig als we vroeger geweest zouden zijn, wanneer\nwe een groot oorlogschip tot onze beschikking hadden gehad.\nDe ruimte van ons vaartuig viel erg mee; behalve dat het ons allen\nmet gemak herbergde, bleef er voldoende plaats voor heel wat proviand\nenz. over, zoodat bij eenigen van ons opnieuw den wensch opkwam,\ner den tocht naar Goa mee te ondernemen.\nNa ernstige overweging, bleken de bezwaren der watervoorziening,\nhet gemis van een kompas, het onbeschut blootgesteld zijn aan zon\nen regen en aan de overslaande golven echter z\u00f3\u00f3 onoverkomelijk, dat\nmijn voorstel ten slotte werd opgevolgd om langs de kust te blijven\nkruisen en uit te zien of zich iets voordeed.\nBij de eerste proefvaart, waaraan we allen deelnamen, hadden we\nal bijna een nat pak gehaald en er, voor een deel althans, haast\nhet hachje bij in geschoten. Er stond een vrij hooge zee en ons\nvaartuig schommelde zoo en werd z\u00f3\u00f3 heen en en weer geslingerd, dat\nwe een oogenblik vreesden allen kopje onder te gaan; maar met groote\ninspanning gelukte het ons wat meer gang in de kano te brengen,\nzoodat ze wat vaster kwam te liggen, en ten slotte kregen we haar\ngelukkig weer onder de kust.\nInmiddels geraakten we in steeds grooter moeilijkheden wat onze\nvoedselvoorziening betrof.\nDe inboorlingen bleken ons vriendschappelijk genoeg gezind en kwamen\nzelfs eens naar ons toe met hun koning of opperhoofd, bij welke\ngelegenheid ze een lange, met allerlei versierselen behangen stok of\npaal tusschen ons en hen in den grond plantten, 't geen, zooals we\nlater begrepen, een teeken van vredelievendheid en goeden wil was;\nook sleepten ze vee, gevogelte, vruchten, wortels en allerlei eetbare\nwaar aan; maar wat hielp ons dat alles, nu wij aan onzen kant niets\nbezaten om het mee te koopen of voor iets te ruilen. Hadden we maar\nwat kramerijen en versierselen bij ons gehad! Wat vergulde kettingen,\nglazen kralen, spiegeltjes of dergelijke prullen, dan zouden we vee\nen ander voedsel genoeg hebben kunnen koopen voor een heel leger\nof voor de bemanning van een oorlogsvloot, maar voor ons goede geld\nkonden we geen stuk bemachtigen.\n\"Laten we ze aanvallen met onze vuurwapens en hun al het vee afnemen,\"\nstelde ik voor. \"Die zwarte kerels zullen hier beter aan den kost\nkunnen komen dan wij, en ik ben niet van plan me kalm te laten\ndoodhongeren.\"\n\"Om dan morgen of overmorgen door een leger van tienduizend van die\nduivels te worden aangevallen?\" vroeg een der matrozen.\nIk moest erkennen dat ik aan dit gevaarlijk gevolg niet gedacht had\nen peinsde te vergeefs hoe toch een oplossing te vinden.\n\"Heb je misschien een vijl onder je rommel?\" vroeg opeens een der\nmatrozen, die vroeger bij een fijn-smid gewerkt had.\n\"Jawel,\" antwoordde de timmerman, \"maar 't is maar een kleintje.\"\n\"Des te beter,\" zei de smid, en hij liep met hem mee om verschillende\ngereedschappen bij elkaar te zoeken.\n't Duurde niet lang of onze smid had een vuurtje aangelegd en was\ndruk aan 't werk om, met behulp van de vijl en een gebroken beitel,\ndien hij in 't vuur gloeiend maakte, verschillende geheimzinnige\nwerktuigjes te fabriceeren. Toen hij met zijn toebereidselen klaar\nwas, nam hij een paar muntstukjes, sloeg ze met een hamer op een steen\nplat tot ze zoo dun waren als papier, ging er toen vogels en andere\ndieren van snijden en bevestigde al die figuren ten slotte aan elkaar,\nzoodat ze als armbanden en halskettingen dienst konden doen.\nNadat hij in een dag of veertien verscheiden van die kunstige\nversierselen had gemaakt, besloten we het resultaat van zijn vernuft\nop de proef te stellen; en 't was verrassend de dolle vreugde der\ninboorlingen waar te nemen. Voor een dun stukje zilver, in den vorm van\neen vogel, kregen we twee koeien, en voor een der onbeholpen koperen\narmbanden allerlei eetbare produkten, ter waarde van een paar honderd\ngulden. Wat dus in muntvorm niet de geringste waarde voor ons had,\nkocht ons, in groote sieraden omgezet, meer dan het honderdvoudige van\n't geen we er in een beschaafd land voor zouden hebben gekregen.\nOp deze wijze leefden we langer dan een jaar, waarin de gedachte aan\neen mogelijkheid ter ontkoming ons nooit losliet. Inmiddels hadden\nwe ons van drie flinke kano's voorzien, en daar de wind bijna overal\nop het eiland zes maanden in de eene en de overige zes maanden in de\ntegenovergestelde richting blies, leek het ons niet onmogelijk met\nonze lichte vaartuigen een langen tocht te ondernemen. Hoe dikwijls\nhet avontuurlijke plan echter ook gewikt en gewogen werd, steeds\nstuitte het af op de moeilijkheid, het zoo'n ontzaglijk langen tijd\nals waarschijnlijk noodig zou blijken, zonder drinkwater uit te houden.\nEindelijk overtuigd dat dit groote plan onuitvoerbaar was, zetten we\nhet ons uit het hoofd en begonnen twee andere kansen te overwegen;\nde een was, in de andere richting, dus naar 't westen, te varen en\nte trachten Kaap de Goede Hoop te bereiken, waar we wel spoedig een\nPortugeesch schip zouden treffen, of te trachten naar 't vasteland\nvan Afrika over te steken en dan te land of te water naar de Roode\nZee te reizen, waar een schip van de een of andere natie ons stellig\nwel gauw zou oppikken. Misschien ook, konden wij h\u00e9n inpikken, een\ndenkbeeld dat mij steeds door den geest bleef spoken.\nOnze knappe \"zilversmid,\" zooals we hem voortaan noemden, kwam met\nhet Roode Zee-plan voor den dag, maar de kanonnier zei: \"Ik ben\neens van mijn leven met een sloep in de Roode Zee geweest en kan er\ndus een beetje over meepraten. Als jullie daarheen koerst, kun je\nje testament wel maken, want je wordt er vast en zeker \u00f3f door de\nArabieren vermoord, \u00f3f tot slaven gemaakt door de Turken.\"\n\"Wat 'hoeven we te denken,\" bracht ik hierop in 't midden, \"aan\nvermoord worden of aan slavernij? Zijn we dan niet in staat om bijna\nelk vaartuig dat we in die zee\u00ebn mochten ontmoeten, aan boord te\nklampen? In plaats dat zij ons nemen, nemen wij hen!\"\n\"Flink zoo, zeeroover,\" zei lachend de kanonnier, die mijn toekomst zoo\ndonker had ingezien. \"D\u00e1t moet ik je ten minste tot je eer nageven,\ndat je voet bij stuk houdt. En wat mijn bezwaren betreft, ik moet\nerkennen dat ons geen andere weg overblijft.\"\nNa nog wat heen en weer gepraat, besloten ze mijn raad op te volgen:\nkruisen en op den uitkijk blijven.\n\"In de allereerste plaats,\" zei ik, \"is te onderzoeken of onze\neilandbewoners betere vaartuigen bezitten dan wij, en zoo ja, er hun\neen afnemen. Misschien lukt het ons wel er een met een behoorlijk\nzeil en een dek te bemachtigen.\"\nTot ons geluk bevond zich onder ons troepje ook een koksmaat, die een\nheel eenvoudige manier bedacht om vleesch te conserveeren, zonder vat\nof pekel. Hij behandelde het in de zon met salpeter, dat in overvloed\nop het eiland te vinden was. Eer we nog een middel ter ontkoming\nhadden uitgedacht, was onze vleeschvoorraad al gestegen tot zes of\nzeven koeien en tien of twaalf geiten, en dit geprepareerde vleesch\nwas z\u00f3\u00f3 smakelijk, dat we meestal niet eens de moeite namen het voor\n't gebruik te koken, maar het even roosterden, of maar eenvoudig zoo\ndroog aten. Onze allergrootste moeilijkheid bleef het drinkwater,\nvooral omdat we geen vat hadden om het in te bewaren en op zee mee\nte nemen.\nDaar onze eerste reis zich evenwel niet verder dan langs de kust van\n't eiland zou uitstrekken, besloten we den tocht te ondernemen, wat\nde gevolgen ook mochten zijn; en om ons zooveel mogelijk voor dorst\nte vrijwaren, had de timmerman middenin een der kano's een soort\nvan bak gemaakt en dit middenstuk afgedekt, zoodat we er overheen\nkonden loopen. De zorgvuldig dicht gemaakt ruimte was zoo groot, dat\nze ongeveer een okshoofd water kon bevatten. Ik kan deze vergaarbak\nniet beter vergelijken dan bij de bun waarin de visscherspinken hun\nvisschen bewaren, behalve natuurlijk dat ons reservoir geen gaten\nin den bodem had om het zeewater binnen te laten, doch integendeel\ngeheel waterdicht gemaakt was.\nNa al de voorafgaande besprekingen, kon de reis gauw genoeg ondernomen\nworden. Daar ons doel was langs de kust te varen, in de hoop een\ngeschikt vaartuig machtig te worden, om er de zee mee over te steken,\nleek het ons 't verstandigste aan de westkust van het eiland te\nblijven, tot aan het punt waar dit zich in noordwestelijke richting,\ntot vrij dicht naar de kust van Afrika, uitstrekt.\nIk geloof niet dat er ooit ter wereld zoo'n zeereis en met zoo'n slecht\ntoegeruste bemanning, aanvaard is. Zeker kozen we de ongunstigste zijde\nvan het eiland om vreemde schepen te ontmoeten, daar deze doorgang\nof straat zeer weinig bevaren werd. Hoe het zij, wij staken in zee,\nnadat we al ons hebben en houden, onze ammunitie en proviand in de\neerste plaats, aan boord hadden gebracht. Voor onze twee grootste\nkano's hadden we masten en zeilen, de andere pagaaiden we voort, zoo\ngoed en zoo kwaad als 't ging; maar toen er een rukwind kwam opzetten,\nnamen we haar op sleeptouw.\nHOOFDSTUK III.\nRONDOM MADAGASKAR\nGedurende verscheiden dagen zeilden we vroolijk voorwaarts, zonder\niets hinderlijks op onzen weg te ontmoeten. Hier en daar zagen we\ninboorlingen in kleine kano's op de vischvangst, maar als we hen\ntrachten te naderen, zochten ze--blijkbaar bang voor ons--zoo gauw\nmogelijk de kust te bereiken.\nToen we dit tot onze teleurstelling een paar maal ondervonden hadden,\nkwam een onzer timmerlui op den inval, om, bij wijze van vredesvlag,\neen staak omhoog te steken, op de manier als zij gedaan hadden,\ntoen ze hun koning aan ons kwamen voorstellen, en deze maatregel\nhad de gewenschte uitwerking. Zoodra zij den volgenden ochtend den\npaal opmerkten dien wij in onze kleinste kano hadden omhoog gezet,\nwachtten ze ons af en pagaaiden ons zelfs een eindweegs te gemoet\nom ons een paar groote visschen aan te bieden, die wij niet kenden,\nmaar die later bleken uitstekend te smaken.\nJammer was het, ook nu weer, dat wij geen voldoende ruilmiddelen\nbezaten, doch onze fijnsmid bood hun twee ruitvormig gesneden en zeer\ndun geslagen zilverstukjes aan, met een gaatje in een der hoeken, en\ndit primitieve sieraad stemde hen zoo dankbaar, dat ze ons beduidden\nte wachten tot ze opnieuw hun netten zouden hebben opgehaald, waarna\nze ons zooveel visch gaven als we slechts begeerden.\nAl dien tijd hielden we 't oog gevestigd op hun bootjes, overwegende\nof ze ons op onzen tocht van dienst zouden kunnen zijn, maar 't\nwaren armzalige vaartuigjes; de zeilen bestonden uit een groote mat;\nbehalve bij \u00e9\u00e9n kano, die een lap katoen aan haar mast had gebonden,\nen we besloten dus hun in 't rustig bezit van hun eigendom te laten\nen verder noordwaarts te stevenen.\nGedurende twaalf dagen bleven we voortdurend onder de kust, en daar\nde wind O.Z.O. was, hielden we een flink vaartje.\nWe ontdekten geen enkele stad langs de kust, zelfs geen dorp; wel\ntelkens eenige hutten bij elkaar tusschen de rotsen en groepjes\nmenschen, blijkbaar toegeloopen om naar ons te kijken.\nOnze kleine vloot van drie schepen, met een kleine dertig gewapenden\nbemand, vormde zoo'n groot gevaar voor hen, dat ze ons stellig al wat\nze bijeen konden brengen hadden willen geven om ons weer veilig kwijt\nte zijn. En aan den anderen kant voelden wij ons niet minder angstig\nen bezorgd en onveilig dan zij, afgaande op een doel, dat nauwelijks\neen doel kon genoemd worden.\nNaarmate we noordelijker kwamen, nam de hitte toe, en al spoedig werd\nze ons--op het water en geheel onbeschut--bijna ondraaglijk. 't Was\nOctober, en daar we ons op 't zuidelijk halfrond bevonden, kwamen\nwe als 't ware elken dag wat dichter bij de zon. Een dag of vijf,\nzes geleden, waren we den keerkring gepasseerd, dus zou de zon nog\neen paar dagen later in haar zenith, vlak boven onze hoofden staan.\nDit overwegende en tevens gedrongen door proviandgebrek, besloten we\neen geschikt plekje te zoeken om aan wal te gaan en onze tenten op te\nslaan, tot de hitte wat zou verminderen. Naar onze berekening hadden we\nhalf de lengte van het eiland langs gevaren en het punt bereikt, dat,\nnaar het noordwesten uitstekende, het dichtst het vasteland van Afrika\nnadert. Toch vreesden we dat de afstand nog wel een honderdtwintig\nzeemijlen zou bedragen.\nVroeg in den morgen voeren we dus naar de kust, 't geen we alle drie\nof vier dagen deden om drinkwater te halen, en overlegden of we hier\neenigen tijd zouden kampeeren; om allerlei redenen echter, kwam de\nplek ons niet geschikt voor en besloten we de reis nog maar eenigen\ntijd voort te zetten.\nNadat we nog een week met een frisch briesje uit het Zuid-Oosten in\nnoordwestelijke richting hadden voortgezeild, bereikten we een kaap of\nvoorgebergte, dat ver in zee uitstak, en daar we brandend nieuwsgierig\nwaren om te ontdekken wat er aan den anderen kant der kaap zou zijn,\nkwamen we overeen er om heen te zeilen, voor en aleer we een haven\nopzochten. We koersten dus maar weer verder, doch hoewel de wind\naanhield, duurde het toch nog vier dagen eer we den uitstekende rots\nbereikten. En toen wachtte ons helaas een bittere teleurstelling! De\nkust week n.l. aan den anderen kant plotseling terug, blijkbaar nog\nveel meer dan aan de zuidzijde het geval was. Wilden we dus naar\nAfrika oversteken, dan moest het van dit punt zijn; verderop werd de\nzee steeds breeder--hoe breed wel, viel moeilijk te berekenen.\nNog geheel onder den indruk van dezen tegenslag, werden we overvallen\ndoor zulke geweldige regen- en donderbuien als we nog zelden hadden\nbijgewoond. Haast-je, rep-je trachtten we dus de kust te bereiken en\npagaaiden, door de kaap beschut, een kleine kreek in, die geheel door\ntakken over-groeid was.\nUitgeput van vermoeienis en door en door nat zag onze zaak er vrij\nwanhopig uit, en onze \"duivelskunstenaar\",  zooals een onzer den smid\ngedoopt had, plaatste een groot houten kruis op een rots, ongeveer\neen mijl van de kaap, en schreef er op, in 't Portugeesch natuurlijk:\n    \"Kaap Wanhoop--God helpe ons!\"\nZoodra we wat bekomen waren, begonnen we een vuurtje te stoken om\nonze kleeren te drogen en daarna hout voor onze hutten bijeen te garen.\nOns kamp werd ingericht aan de zuidzijde van de kreek en onder de\nbeschutting van een steilen heuvel ten N.W., die gelukkig een groot\ndeel van den dag de zonnestralen onderschepte. Een zoetwater beekje\nmondde in de kreek uit, en we zagen in een laagvlakte, oostelijk van\nons, vee grazen en in zuidelijke richting een weg.\nOp deze gunstig gelegen plek bouwden we twaalf hutten van boomtakken,\ndie we in den grond staken en van boven met dunne twijgjes en\ndergelijke bij elkaar bonden. De kreek vormde onze natuurlijke\nbescherming aan de noordzijde, de beek ten westen, en den zuid-\nen oostkant versterkten we met een wal die onze hutten geheel\nverborg. Achter dezen wal stonden onze woonhutten, en op behoorlijken\nafstand drie andere, kleinere hutten, \u00e9\u00e9n veiligheidshalve uitsluitend\nvoor ons kruit bestemd, de tweede voor onze gereedschappen en proviand\nen de derde en grootste tot eet-, gezelschaps- en vergaderlokaal\ningericht.\nMet behulp van de ruitvormige zilveren hangers, die onze smid weer\ndadelijk ging fabriceeren, viel het ons niet moeilijk ook hier met\nde inboorlingen handel te drijven, en onze koksmaat had al gauw de\nhanden vol met het drogen en zouten van vijftig stuks zwart vee en\ngeiten, terwijl de omtrek ons meer dan genoeg vruchten en eetbare\nwortelen opleverde.\nZoo hielden we omstreeks vier maanden het leven, en toen de zon\nnaar de evenaarslijn was teruggedraaid begonnen we onze volgende\nreis te beramen, om n.l. de straat van Zanquebar (Zanzibar), zooals\nde Portugezen haar noemen, over te steken en zoo mogelijk het vaste\nland van Afrika te bereiken.\nVoor zoover we elkaar verstaan konden, bespraken we het plan met\nverschillende inboorlingen, maar al wat we van hen te weten kwamen\nwas, dat er aan den anderen kant van de zee een groot land lag,\nvol tijgers en leeuwen. Van den afstand hadden ze geen flauw begrip,\nterwijl onze mannen dien schatten op honderd \u00e0 honderdvijftig mijlen,\nhoewel een van hen, die een wereldkaart bezat, hun duidelijk maakte\ndat het traject volgens de schaal niet meer dan tachtig zeemijlen kon\nzijn. Ook waren ze 't er niet over eens of er onderweg eilanden lagen\ndie we konden aandoen, en een oude, blinde, door een klein jongetje\ngeleiden man ried ons tot einde Augustus op Madagaskar te blijven,\ndaar we dan op een gunstigen wind en een kalme zee konden rekenen.\nIn zekeren zin een zeer verheugende mededeeling, maar het langer\nblijven lachte onze mannen heel weinig toe, te minder omdat de zon\nin dien tijd dan weer naar het zuiden zou draaien.\nTen slotte werd er weer raad belegd, en na veel en vervelend heen\nen weer praten zagen ze in, dat we, indien ons eenige verlangen was\nvoldoende te eten en te drinken, gerust konden blijven waar we waren,\ndoch dat we, als we ooit ons eigen land weer wenschten te bereiken,\nnu scheep dienden te gaan.\nIk voor mij was met plezier op het eiland gebleven en had een\neigenaardig voorgevoel, dat ik er nog eens zou terugkomen.\n\"Als ik maar een schip met twintig kanonnen en een sloep bezat,\nallebei behoorlijk bemand,\" zei ik, \"zou ik geen plaats ter wereld\nweten waar ik liever woonde.\"\nMet meerderheid van stemmen werd besloten de reis niet langer uit te\nstellen en den overtocht te wagen. Nu, een waagstuk was het zeker! Want\nterwijl de wind in die streek van September tot Maart uit het oosten\nblaast, zoo komt hij het overige gedeelte van 't jaar als regel uit\nhet westen. Nadat we dus, geholpen door een soort van land-bries,\nongeveer vijftien of twintig mijlen hadden afgelegd--juist voldoende\nom ons geheel overgeleverd te gevoelen--blies de wind ons regelmatig\nen krachtig, afwisselend van uit het W.Z.W. of Z.W. vlak in 't gezicht,\nzoodat we er niets geen profijt van konden trekken.\nDaarbij kwam nog dat vaartuigen als de onze niet hoog bij den wind\nkunnen zeilen. Was dit w\u00e9l het geval geweest, dan zouden we, in\nN.N.W. richting uithalende, verscheiden eilanden op onzen weg ontmoet\nhebben, zooals wij later ontdekten. Maar dit bleek onmogelijk. Een\nkleine proefneming in die richting had ons bijna het leven gekost. Naar\nhet noorden koersende, zoo dicht onder den wind als wij durfden wagen,\nvergaten wij rekening te houden met den vorm en ligging van het eiland\nzelf. We hadden Madagaskar bij een ver-uitstekend voorgebergte verlaten\nen bevonden ons dus nu--een mijl of veertig noordelijker, waar het\neiland meer dan tweehonderd mijlen oostwaards terugwijkt--midden in\nzee tusschen Madagaskar en Afrika; van beide kusten bijna honderd\nmijlen verwijderd.\nDaar er flink wat wind stond, evenals de vorige dagen, uit het westen,\nhielden we, met de kleinste kano op sleeptouw, met volle zeilen op\nde kust aan.\nTot ons groote geluk bleef de zee kalm; was er ook maar even een\nrukwind opgestoken, dan zouden we ons leven verspeeld hebben, want onze\nkano's waren ondiep en allerminst geschikt om een hooge zee te bevaren.\nHet hachlijke avontuur had ons elf dagen in spanning gehouden, en toen\nwe eindelijk, op omstreeks tien mijlen afstands, land in zicht kregen\nwas onze proviand bijna geheel verbruikt en tot het laatste druppeltje\nhet water dat we meegenomen hadden. Uitgeput als we al waren, duurde\nhet echter nog twee volle dagen eer we den vasten wal bereikten,\ndaar een heete landwind onze afmattende pogingen nog bemoeilijkte.\nDeze onderneming gaf ons een voorproefje van wat ons te beurt zou\nzijn gevallen, wanneer we bij ongunstigen wind waren overgestoken\nen genas ons voor 't oogenblik van den lust in 't groote plan, ten\nminste tot we betere vaartuigen zouden veroverd hebben.\nEindelijk aan wal gekomen, begonnen we maar weer getroost een\nnieuw kamp op te richten, ons, evenals tevoren, zoo goed mogelijk\ntegen overvallen wapenend. De inboorlingen bleken hier evenwel veel\ntoeschietelijker en goedhartiger dan op de zuidelijke helft van het\neiland, en al konden we elkaars taal weer niet verstaan, toch wisten\nwe hun aan 't verstand te brengen dat we vreemde zeelieden waren en\ngebrek aan voedsel hadden.\nHet eerste bewijs dat we van hun welwillendheid ondervonden, was,\ndat een hunner hoofden, zoodra hij ons met den bouw onzer hutten\nzag beginnen, met een stuk of zes mannen en vrouwen naar ons toe\nkwam en ons twee vette stieren en vijf geiten bracht, die hij ons\nvoor niets afstond. Hij verbood de vrouwen zelfs de sieraden aan te\nraken, die wij hun aanboden. Ongeveer twee uur later verscheen er een\ntweede opperhoofd met een stoet van een vijftig negers, waarop wij\nvoor alle veiligheid naar onze wapens grepen. Zoodra hij dit echter\nbemerkte, zond hij twee mannen met lange staken vooruit, die ze als\neen vredesteeken omhoog droegen en daarop dicht bij ons in den grond\nplantten. Toen de koning en de overige zwarten tot bij die staken\ngenaderd waren, zetten ze al hun lansen in den grond en kwamen geheel\nongewapend--ook hun bogen en pijlen lieten ze achter--naar ons toe.\nDe plechtigheid moest ons duidelijk maken dat ze vrienden wenschten\nte zijn, iets wat ons blij verraste. Toen het opperhoofd van het\ntweede gezantschap onze mannen vrij onhandig hun hutten zag bouwen,\nwenkte hij eenige van zijn volgelingen, ons te komen helpen, en in\neen oogwenk hadden we vijftien of zestien negers tusschen ons aan\n't werk. Ze betoonden zich vrij wat handiger bouwers dan wij, en\nhadden in verwonderlijk korten tijd vier hutten--veel mooier dan de\nonze--in elkaar getooverd.\nHierna zonden ze ons melk, pisangs, pompoenen en een overvloed van\nwortels en eetbare planten, waarop zij verdwenen, zonder iets van ons\nte willen aannemen. Een onzer mannen presenteerde den aanvoerder een\nborrel, dien hij met veel smaak leegdronk. En van dit oogenblik af\nkwam hij ons geregeld twee of driemaal 's weeks bezoeken, altijd iets\nvoor ons meebrengende. Eens zelfs zond hij ons zeven zwarte koeien,\ndie wij op onze gewone manier droogden en bewaarden.\nHier moet ik even een schijnbare nietigheid vertellen, die ons later\nevenwel groot voordeel bracht, dat n.l. het vleesch van hun geiten\nen koeien, maar voornamelijk van hun geiten, in gedroogden staat\nrood werd en buitengewoon hard en vast van vezel, zooals ik wel eens\ngerookt rundvleesch uit Holland gegeten had. Het smaakte hun zoo goed,\nja was zoo'n groote lekkernij voor hen, dat ze, toen ze er eenmaal\nmee hadden kennis gemaakt, het altijd met ons trachtten te ruilen,\nwaarbij wij wel zorgden aan 't langste eind te trekken. Blijkbaar\nhadden ze er geen flauw begrip van wat het eigenlijk was, en ze boden\nons met het grootste genoegen een heelen stier of een koe of iets\nanders wat we begeerden, voor tien of twaalf pond van ons gerookt of\ngedroogd vleesch.\nReeds een dag na onze aankomst op dit noordelijk deel van het eiland\nmerkten we twee voor ons zeer belangrijke dingen op. Ten eerste\nzagen we dat de negers aardewerk bezaten, waarvan ze op dezelfde\nwijze als wij gebruik maakten. Vooral werd onze aandacht getrokken\ndoor hun diepe aarden potten, die ze in den grond lieten zinken om\nhun drinkwater koel te houden. De tweede gewichtige ontdekking was:\nhet betere en grootere soort van kano's waarin ze hier voeren.\nDit bracht ons op het denkbeeld eens te onderzoeken, of ze ook n\u00f3g\ngrooter vaartuigen bouwden, of mogelijk andere stammen die het eiland\nbewoonden. Met veel moeite kwamen we door teekens en gebaren te\nweten--sommige van hun klanken waren ons nu ook niet geheel vreemd\nmeer--dat zij geen grooter booten maakten dan die ze ons getoond\nhadden, maar dat aan de andere zijde van het eiland een stam leefde,\ndie mooier vaartuigen bezat, met dekken en groote zeilen.\nToen eenige van ons met dit blijde nieuws terugkwamen, besloten we\neenparig het eiland te omvaren tot we ze zouden ontdekken, en met\nnieuwen moed trokken we aan 't werk om onze kano's na te zien en den\nnoodigen leeftocht voor onze derde zeereis bijeen te pakken.\nSteeds onder de kust blijvende, duurde deze excursie een week of vijf,\nin welken tijd we verscheiden keer aan land gingen om water en provisie\nte halen. Bij al die gelegenheden vonden wij de inboorlingen bijzonder\nvrijmoedig en welwillend; 't scheen wel dat ze \"menschelijker\" werden,\nnaarmate wij noordelijker kwamen, en op zekeren morgen vroeg, toen\nwe het allernoordelijkste puntje van 't eiland bereikt hadden, riep\neen van onze mannen \u00f3vergelukkig: \"Een zeil! Een zeil!\"\nWerkelijk namen wij allen, doch een heel eind in zee, een schip waar;\nmaar toen we het door onzen perspectief-kijker nader beschouwden, bleek\nhet een vaartuig dat ons geheel onbekend was. Hoe wij ook tuurden en\nons best deden de kenteekenen te onderscheiden, we konden het zooals\nmen wel zegt, \"niet thuis brengen\". 't Was geen kaag, geen galjoen,\ngeen kaper of van eenig ander ons bekend soort. Al wat we er van\nmaken konden was, dat het zeewaarts stevende en dus steeds verder\nvan ons verdween. Al gauw geraakte het dan ook uit ons gezicht en we\nverkeerden niet in een toestand het achterna te durven gaan. Eenigen\nvan ons hoopten nog dat het terug zou komen, maar wij zagen het niet\nweer tijdens ons verblijf aan de noordkust en hielden het later--toen\nwe meer dergelijke vaartuigen ontmoetten--voor een Arabisch schip,\ndat handel had gedreven op de kust van Mozambique of Zanzibar, een\nstreek die wij later ook bezochten, zooals uit mijn verdere verhaal\nzal blijken.\nVoor zoover ik me herinner onderscheidden de inboorlingen zich op\ndie verschillende kustgedeelten al heel weinig van elkaar; noch in\nkleur of gedaante, noch in manieren, gewoonten, bewapening of iets\nanders. Toch maakten wij bij verschillende gelegenheden uit allerlei\ngegevens op, dat ze geen contact met elkaar hadden. Hoe dit zij,\ntegenover ons toonden ze zich allen uiterst vriendelijk en hulpvaardig,\n't geen voor ons van het grootste belang was.\nNa onze reis langs de noordkust, zeilden we nu even vele weken\nzuidwaarts, ook nu natuurlijk af en toe den tocht onderbrekende om\nvoedsel en water in te nemen; en eindelijk een uitstekende landpunt\nomvarende, die ongeveer een mijl in zee vooruitsprong, zagen we\nplotseling tot onze verrassing iets v\u00f3\u00f3r ons, dat ons een kreet van\nvreugde deed uiten, hoewel het voor de betrokken personen een zeer\ntreurige gebeurtenis moest geweest zijn, die nu tot onze blijdschap\naanleiding gaf. Tusschen de in zee vooruitspringende rotsen stak de\nromp van een Europeesch schip.\nDaar het nu, bij vloed, zelfs niet geheel onder water lag, begrepen\nwe dat het schip bij eb voor een groot deel droog moest loopen. 't\nSprak van zelf, dat onze nieuwsgierigheid ons dreef--en gelukkig\nlieten wind en weer het ook toe--onmiddellijk naar het wrak te varen,\nwat ons niet veel moeite kostte. Bij nadere beschouwing zagen we dat\nhet een Hollandsch schip was, dat nog niet heel lang in dien toestand\nkon hebben verkeerd, daar een groot deel van zijn achtersteven nog\nflink in elkaar zat met de bezaansmast nog overeind. Blijkbaar was\nhaar achtersteven tusschen twee rotsen bekneld geraakt en zoo behouden\ngebleven, terwijl de voorplecht slechts voor een deel uit elkaar lag.\nOfschoon we niets aan het wrak ontdekten, wat ons op dat oogenblik\nvan dienst zou kunnen zijn, besloten we toch hier aan wal te gaan en\neen tijdlang in de buurt te blijven, op hoop eenig licht omtrent de\nscheepsramp te verkrijgen of, wat wij allen vurig zouden gewenscht\nhebben--iets omtrent de opvarenden te weten te komen. Wie weet,\nmisschien hielden er zich nog wel eenigen aan den wal op, die ongeveer\nin dezelfde omstandigheden als wij verkeerden en ons aantal zouden\nwillen versterken.\nGeland zijnde, wachtte ons een tweede verrassing: we vonden er\nnamenlijk een volledige kleine scheepstimmerwerf; een helling met\neen windas, stellingen, planken, stukken hout, in 't kort al wat er\noverblijft, wanneer men een schip heeft gebouwd en dat ons onmiddellijk\nop het denkbeeld bracht, het voorbeeld der schipbreukelingen te volgen.\nHoogstwaarschijnlijk had de ongelukkige bemanning zich met een boot\naan den wal kunnen redden, en daar een flinke sloep of bark gebouwd om\ner mee in zee te steken. Toen wij de inboorlingen vroegen welken kant\nze waren uitgegaan, wezen ze naar 't zuiden en zuidwesten, waaruit wij\nde gevolgtrekking maakten dat ze naar Kaap de Goede Hoop waren gezeild.\nDoor hun voorbeeld aangestoken, besloten we, in ieder geval te trachten\neen zeeklare boot te timmeren en dan, op ons lot vertrouwende, het\nruime sop te kiezen.\nWe begonnen dus met onze timmerlui op te dragen te onderzoeken,\nwat de Hollanders aan materialen hadden achtergelaten, die ons van\ndienst konden zijn. Onder zeer veel bruikbaars, vonden ze o.a. ook\neen pik-ketel waar nog wat pik in zat.\nOndanks alle goede vondsten, viel het werk ons toch lang niet mee. We\nhadden geen voldoende gereedschappen, geen ijzerwerk, geen touw, geen\nzeilen, zoodat we bij elk onderdeel wat we noodig hadden, onze eigen\nsmeden, touwslagers en zeilmakers moesten zijn, ja allerlei beroepen\nuitoefenen, die wij nooit een van allen geleerd hadden. Maar nood\nleert niet alleen \"bidden\", zooals het spreekwoord zegt, maar ook\n\"uitvinden\", en we brachten allerlei dingen tot stand, die ons van\nte voren onuitvoerbaar hadden toegeschenen.\nNadat onze timmerlui de afmetingen van onze boot bepaald hadden,\nzetten ze ons allen aan 't werk. Om te beginnen moesten we het wrak\nuit elkaar slaan en in onze kano's alles meebrengen, wat slechts\nbruikbaar scheen. Aan den mast vooral was hen zeer veel gelegen,\nen met ontzaglijk veel inspanning gelukte het ons na twintig dagen\nhard werken hem behouden aan de kust te brengen.\nIntusschen hadden we ook heel wat ijzerwerk uit het wrak gehaald,\nzooals bouten, nagels, spijkers, krammen, waarvan onze smid, met\nbewonderenswaardige handigheid, roerpennen, oogen, spillen enz. maakte.\nVan het gebruik van een anker zagen we af, bij gebrek aan een\nbehoorlijken kabel, en we slaagden er gelukkig in, om, geholpen door\nde negers, een soort van touw te maken van de vezels, die zij voor hun\nmatten gebruikten, 't geen ons een kabel verschafte om ons vaartuig aan\nde kust te meren, waarmee we ons voor 't oogenblik tevreden stelden.\nVier volle maanden brachten wij bij het wrak door, flink werkende\nen bezield door de hoop op uitkomst. Toen we eindelijk, na verloop\nvan dien tijd, ons schip van stapel lieten loopen, had het wel vele\ngebreken, maar was het toch--alles bij elkaar genomen--beter dan we\nhadden mogen verwachten.\nOnze sloep, want daar leek het vaartuig het meest op, mat achttien\n\u00e0 twintig ton, en wanneer we slechts masten en zeilen en voldoende\ntakelage hadden gehad, zou het scheepje ons overal waar we maar\nwenschten, gebracht hebben. Wat echter de heele onderneming nog zou\ndoen mislukken en al onzen arbeid vruchteloos dreigde te maken was ons\ngebrek aan teer en pek. De kleine voorraad van het laatste artikel\ndien we in de pot gevonden hadden, was natuurlijk bij lange na niet\ntoereikend om de naden mee te dichten, en hoewel we \u00e1l deden wat we\nkonden met een mengsel van talk en olie, twee artikelen die wij in\nhet wrak gevonden hadden, toch beantwoordde dit op verre na niet aan\nhet doel. Toen we onze sloep dus na veel moeite in 't water hadden,\nbleek zij zoo lek als een mandje en moesten we, bij gemis van een pomp,\nmet alle macht hoozen om haar boven water te houden.\nDiep terneergeslagen over deze bittere teleurstelling, zochten wij\nhulp bij de inboorlingen, en een van hen, een oude neger, wees ons\neen boom aan, waarvan het hout, als men het kookt, een lijmachtige\nvloeistof afscheidt, bijna zoo bruikbaar als teer. Den raad dankbaar\nopvolgende, verkregen wij werkelijk een stof, die uitstekend het pik\nvervangen kon en ons schip geheel waterdicht maakte. Bij verschillende\ngelegenheden kwam mij deze ontdekking later te pas.\nToen ons schip dus zoover klaar was, maakten we een mooien mast uit\nden bezaansmast van het wrak, waaraan we onze zeilen zoo goed mogelijk\nbevestigden, voorzagen het nog van een roer, een helmstok en andere\nnoodzakelijke onderdeelen, brachten onze victuali\u00ebn en zooveel zoet\nwater aan boord als wij konden bergen--want we hadden nog altijd geen\nvaten--en staken met een gunstigen wind in zee.\nMet onze onderzoekingstochten en het bouwen der sloep was nu bijna een\njaar verstreken. Het moest nu omstreeks begin Februari zijn volgens\nonze mannen; de zon draaide gelukkig naar het noordelijk halfrond,\nwat ons allen dankbaar stemde, want de hitte was bijna ondraaglijk\ngeweest. Zooals ik reeds zeide, hadden we den wind mee, die, naar\nik later herhaaldelijk opmerkte, meestal uit den oosthoek waait,\nals de zon naar het noorden loopt.\n't Groote vraagpunt was nu, welke richting we zouden kiezen, en nooit\nin mijn leven heb ik mannen zoo weifelachtig gezien. Sommige waren\nvoor de oostelijke richting en waren liefst onmiddellijk in zee\ngestoken naar de kust van Malabar; maar andere, wat bedachtzamer,\nbeschouwden de lengte van die reis een onoverkomelijk bezwaar en\nschudden afkeurend het hoofd, overtuigd dat noch onze leeftocht noch\nonze watervoorraad ons veroorloofden een reis van bijna tweeduizend\nmijlen te ondernemen, zonder eenig vast punt om onderweg aan te doen.\nZij zelf hadden sinds lang hun zinnen gezet op een tocht naar het\nvasteland van Afrika, waar we volgens hen, goed in ons onderhoud\nzouden kunnen voorzien, ja zelfs rijk worden.\nFeitelijk viel er niet veel te kiezen; want hadden we tot het oosten\nbesloten, dan zouden we hebben moeten wachten tot April of Mei.\nEindelijk--daar de wind voortdurend Z.O., of O.Z.O. en het weer\nuitstekend bleef, werden we het er toch over eens te trachten de kust\nvan Afrika te bereiken.\nDaar we ons voor die reis aan den verkeerden kant van het eiland\nbevonden, zeilden we eerst weer naar het noorden en zetten toen, om\nde kaap heendraaiende, koers naar het zuiden, steeds onder de kust\nhoudende en hopende de naar 't westen vooruitstekende punt van het\neiland te bereiken, van waar onze overtocht naar 't vasteland wel\nmet een honderd mijlen zou verkort worden.\nToen we evenwel een dertig mijlen hadden afgelegd, ondervonden we dat\nde wind onder de kust veranderde en we hem pal tegenkregen, waarom\nwij wel moesten besluiten in volle zee te steken, waar we den wind\nmee hadden. Ons vaartuig was weinig geschikt om hoog bij den wind\nte zeilen.\nNadat we dus nog eens voor 't laatst aan wal waren gegaan om ons van\nwater en levensmiddelen te voorzien, staken we ten langen leste tegen\nhet einde van Maart--met meer moed dan beleid, meer zelfvertrouwen\ndan verstandig overleg--naar het vasteland van Afrika over.\nWat mij persoonlijk betrof, gevoelde ik niet den minsten angst of\nongerustheid. Als we maar in 't een of ander land terecht kwamen,\nliet het mij volkomen onverschillig, of dat ten oosten of ten westen\nvan ons lag. Ik bekommerde mij in die dagen bitter weinig om mijn\ntoekomst en hechtte, met de onnadenkendheid aan mijn leeftijd eigen,\nmijn goedkeuring aan al wat mij werd voorgesteld, hoe hachelijker,\nhoe liever.\nDe reis, tamelijk wel in onwetendheid en radeloosheid begonnen, werd\nmet al heel weinig oordeel voortgezet, want we wisten niets meer van\nden te volgen koers, dan dat we naar het westen moesten sturen met een\npaar streken N. of Z., en daar we geen andere streekwijzer bezaten\ndan een klein koperen zakkompas dat een der matrozen toevallig bij\nzich had gehad, toen we van 't galjoen werden gezet, zeilden we vrij\nwel op goed geluk.\nDaar het God evenwel behaagde den wind in den O. en Z.O. hoek te\nhouden, begrepen we dat we, N.W. bij W. sturende, vlak voor 't lapje\nmoesten gaan, en zoo kwamen we dan ook met een flink vaartje vooruit.\nToch duurde de reis met ons schip dat maar heel weinig zeil voerde,\nveel langer dan we ons hadden voorgesteld.\nIets vermeldenswaards deed zich op dezen tocht niet voor; er was niets\nwat ons eenige afleiding bezorgde of de eentonigheid onderbrak. Geen\nvaartuig, groot of klein, kwam in zicht. Blijkbaar lag de zee waarop\nwe ons bevonden geheel buiten het gebied van den handel, terwijl de\nbevolking van Madagaskar niets meer wist omtrent het kustland van\nAfrika dan wij.\nToen wij omstreeks acht of negen dagen onder zeil waren geweest,\nvoortdurend met gunstigen wind, riep plotseling een onzer mannen:\n\"Land!\" een vreugdekreet die bij ons allen weerklank vond. Geen\nontdekking kon ons op dat oogenblik gelukkiger hebben gestemd, want\nwe hadden--ook bij een zeer klein rantsoen--nog maar voor twee dagen\ndrinkwater aan boord. Tot onze teleurstelling duurde het nog den\nganschen dag eer we het land bereikten; 't was 's morgens vroeg toen\nwe het in 't oog kregen, en pas tegen den nacht konden we voet aan wal\nzetten. De wind ging ongelukkigerwijze bijna geheel liggen, zoodat ons\nvaartuig--dat toch al zoo weinig zeil voerde--nauwelijks vooruit kwam.\nMaar hoe bitter was onze teleurstelling, toen we tot de ontdekking\nkwamen dat we, niet zooals we ons hadden voorgesteld, het vasteland\nvan Afrika betreden hadden, doch slechts een nietig eilandje zonder\nbewoners (wij troffen er ten minste geen mensch aan) en geen ander\nvee dan een paar geiten, waarvan we er drie doodden. Zoo konden\nwe dus weer eens aan versch vleesch smullen, en daar we heel goed\ndrinkwater vonden, zetten we ons gauw over den tegenvaller heen,\nvertrouwende dat het vasteland toch niet meer veraf kon zijn.\nMet onze berekeningen kwamen we nog al eens meer verkeerd uit! Zelfs\nnu duurde het nog vijftien dagen eer we het vasteland bereikten--maar\njuist bijtijds, daar onze voorraad water en voedsel totaal was\nuitgeput. Gedurende de laatste twee dagen had aan ieder van ons maar\neen pint water kunnen verstrekt worden, wat bij de groote hitte, zeker\nniet voldoende was. Toen we de Afrikaansche kust dan ook eindelijk en\nten laatste ontdekten--al was het ook nog op grooten afstand--schepten\nwe allen nieuwen moed om nog wat dorst en honger te doorstaan, en tot\nons geluk bracht een briesje, dat 's nachts uit het oosten opstak,\nons tegen den morgen binnen twee mijlen van de kust.\nIn ons groot verlangen vasten grond onder de voeten te krijgen,\nlandden we zoodra we gelegenheid zagen--wel wat voorbarig, zooals\nlater bleek. Hadden we nog een beetje geduld geoefend, dan zouden we\niets noordelijker een mooie rivier gevonden hebben.\nMet behulp van twee boomen, die we als meerpalen in den grond\nplantten, hielden we ons fregat vlot, waarbij onze, van een soort\nbiezen gevlochten touwen, als kabels dienst moesten doen.\nZoodra wij het land, vlak onder ons bereik wat in oogenschouw genomen,\nons van versch water voorzien en wat voedsel verschaft hadden, gingen\nwe weer met onzen voorraad aan boord.\nVeel hadden we niet veroverd; de levensmiddelen bleken schaarsch in\ndie streek, doch we konden in ieder geval een stuk of wat vogels en\neen soort van wilden buffel schieten die klein van stuk was, maar\nsmakelijk vleesch opleverde.\nToen we een en ander hadden ingeladen, besloten we N.N.O. langs de\nkust te varen tot we een kreek of rivier zouden ontmoeten, die ons\nverder landwaarts in zou brengen naar een dorp of stad; want we hadden\ngegronde reden voor onze overtuiging, dat de kuststrook vrij dicht\nbewoond moest zijn, daar we 's nachts herhaaldelijk op verschillende\npunten vuren en overdag op korten afstand rook hadden gezien.\nHOOFDSTUK IV.\nHET VASTELAND\nOns geduld werd nog langer op de proef gesteld dan we gedacht hadden,\nmaar ten slotte kwamen we toch aan een groote baai, waarin zich\nverscheiden kreken of riviertjes uitstortten. Den eersten den besten\nvan deze kleine stroomen invarende, zagen we al spoedig eenige hutten\nmet groepjes inboorlingen er omheen, en in een inham aan de noordzijde\nder kreek landende, staken we onmiddellijk onze vredesvlag op--een\nstaak met een witte lap er aan gebonden--welk signaal ze gelukkig\nbleken te begrijpen.\nMannen, vrouwen, kinderen--allen geheel naakt--kwamen, aanvankelijk\naarzelend, doch al heel gauw wat stoutmoediger, op ons vaartuig\naf. Nadat ze ons een tijdlang verwonderd, sommige angstig, hadden\naangegaapt, begonnen ze teekenen van toenadering te vertoonen. Onze\neerste proefneming was: onze hand aan onzen mond te brengen om hen\nte beduiden dat we water begeerden. Tot onze blijdschap begrepen\nze ons dadelijk, en drie vrouwen en een paar jongens stoven weg om\nheel gauw, na een minuut of tien ongeveer, terug te komen met aarden\npotten--waarschijnlijk in de zon gebakken--gevuld met water. Nadat ze\ndeze potten, die werkelijk goed van vorm waren, enkele vrij sierlijk\nzelfs, op veiligen afstand van ons hadden neergezet, trokken ze zich\nterug, het aan ons overlatende ze weg te halen, wat wij natuurlijk\nmet gretigen spoed deden.\nEenige uren later brachten ze ons wortels en kruiden en een soort\nvan vruchten die we nooit een van allen gezien hadden, maar daar\nwe hun niets in ruil konden aanbieden, staakten ze al spoedig hun\nvriendelijkheden en begrepen we wel, niet zooveel van hen te kunnen\nverwachten als van de negers op Madagaskar.\nGelukkig wist onze duivelskunstenaar, de fijnsmid, weer in de\nmoeilijkheid te voorzien door zoo spoedig mogelijk aan 't werk te\ngaan. Van stukken plaatijzer die hij van het wrak had overgehouden\nen meegenomen, smeedde hij allerlei snuisterijen: vogels, hondjes,\nkruisen, haken, vierkanten, ringen enz.:--die wij allen hielpen\nafvijlen en blinkend schuren.\nOok nu weer bleken deze waardelooze prullen de inboorlingen kinderlijk\ngelukkig te maken, en zonder eenige moeite kregen we er overvloed\nvan provisie voor in de plaats: geiten, wilde zwijnen, koeien, fruit\nen gevogelte.\nDit waren dus onze eerste ervaringen op het vasteland van Afrika;\nom te beginnen niet zoo slecht, als we bedachten dat er misschien\ngeen verlatener, ongastvrijer en onbekender land op de gansche aarde\nbestond--Groenland en Nova Zembla niet uitgezonderd. Bij nadere\nkennismaking bleek ons evenwel dat ook de minst bewoonbare streken\ntoch nog door menschelijke wezens bezocht werden, hoewel het voor\nons--hun aard en gewoonten in aanmerking genomen--beter zou geweest\nzijn, wanneer we ze maar niet hadden aangetroffen.\nNadat we ons hier eenige dagen hadden opgehouden, namen wij, na\nernstige overleggingen, het stoutmoedigste, wanhopigste besluit, dat\nmisschien ooit door een troep je mannen is genomen: om n.l. dwars door\nhet land te reizen, van de kust van Mozambique aan den oostelijken\nof Indischen Oceaan, naar de kust van Angola of Guinea aan den\nwestelijken of Atlantischen, een uitgestrektheid van minstens\nachttienhonderd mijlen. Op dien tocht zouden we ondraaglijke hitte\nhebben te doorstaan, eindelooze woestijnen moeten overtrekken--zonder\nvoertuigen of lastdieren om onze bagage te dragen,--en ons tegen\ntallooze verscheurende dieren, zooals leeuwen, tijgers, luipaarden\nen olifanten moeten verdedigen. De zon zou--terwijl we voortdurend\ndichtbij den evenaar voorttrokken--verzengend op ons neerschijnen;\nwe zouden hoogstwaarschijnlijk aan woeste en wreede negerstammen\nhet hoofd moeten bieden, honger en dorst moeten verduren--in \u00e9\u00e9n\nwoord verschrikkingen en ontberingen moeten dulden, die ook den\nheldhaftigsten mensch met angst moesten vervullen.\nEn toch, ondanks al die dreigende vooruitzichten, besloten we\nhet avontuur te wagen en al de toebereidselen te treffen, die\nde omstandigheden en onze onbekendheid met hetgeen v\u00f3\u00f3r ons lag,\nmogelijk maakten.\nSedert lang waren we gewend geraakt aan het barrevoets loopen op\nrotsigen bodem, op kiezel en op gras en strand, doch nu ondervonden\nwe dat dit alles niet haalde bij het loopen op het brandend heete\nzand van Afrika's woestijnen.\nWe voorzagen ons dus van een soort schoenen, gemaakt uit dierenhuiden,\ndie we in de zon lieten drogen en daardoor hard en taai werden. Met\nhet haar naar binnen gekeerd, zaten ze zoo zacht als handschoenen,\nen in 't gebruik bleken ze haast onverslijtbaar.\nVan een paar inboorlingen bij wie we ons het best verstaanbaar konden\nmaken, hoorden we, dat er in het ons onbekende land veel rivieren, veel\nleeuwen en tijgers en ook een soort van wilde katten waren--civetkatten\nzooals wij later zagen.\nToen wij hen, naar 't westen wijzende, vroegen, of er wel eens ooit\niemand dien kant was uitgegaan, knikten ze bevestigend, maar ze\nkonden ons niets omtrent die reizigers vertellen. Behalve dat ze ons\naan proviand hielpen, was er weinig hulp van hen te verwachten, en\ntoen we hun verzochten ons een van allen tot gids te willen strekken,\nhaalden ze de schouders op, zooals een Franschman doet wanneer hij bang\nis iets te ondernemen. Op onze vragen betreffende de wilde dieren,\nlachten ze en beduidden ons dat we daar geen gevaar van hadden te\nduchten. Met veel inspanning van weerskanten begrepen we dat ze alle\nbang waren voor vuur en we ze dus door er een te stoken 's nachts op\neen afstand konden houden, 't geen onze ervaring later bevestigde.\nOp dit punt dus gerustgesteld aanvaardden we de reis, die, hoe\nhachlijk en onuitvoerbaar ook, gerechtvaardigd werd door verschillende\noverwegingen.\nIn de eerste plaats stond ons geen andere weg open om tot bevrijding\nte geraken; we bevonden ons aan een kust waar nooit eenig Europeesch\nschip landde. De kans dat we hier ooit zouden worden gevonden en naar\nbeschaafdere streken meegenomen, was dus zoo goed als uitgesloten.\nHadden we 't gewaagd langs de verlaten kust van Mozambique en Afrika\nnaar het noorden te zeilen tot we de Roode Zee bereikten, dan liepen\nwe groot gevaar in handen van de Arabieren te vallen en als slaven aan\nde Turken verkocht te worden, wat, naar 't geen onze oudste timmerman\nvan de Mohammedanen wist te vertellen, erger zou zijn dan de dood.\nOok konden we geen schip bouwen dat ons over de Arabische zee naar\nIndi\u00eb zou brengen of, met eenig uitzicht haar te bereiken, naar\nKaap de Goede Hoop, daar de wind zeer veranderlijk en de zee op die\nbreedte buitengewoon onstuimig was. We wisten echter allen dat we--als\nhet ons slechts gelukken mocht dit uitgestrekte vasteland over te\nsteken--we een of meer van de groote rivieren zouden kunnen bereiken,\ndie in den Atlantischen Oceaan uitmonden. Hadden we eenmaal zulk een\nrivier gevonden, dan konden we ons kano's bouwen en hiermee, desnoods\nduizenden mijlen ver, den stroom afvaren. De voedselmoeilijkheid\nwas altijd door middel van onze geweren op te lossen; water hadden\nwe nog overal aangetroffen en--wat eenigen onder ons sterk tot dit\nplan deed overhellen--er bestond volgens hen een groote kans, dat we\nin West-Afrika goud zouden kunnen bemachtigen, dat ons misschien nog\nschadeloos zou stellen voor alle doorgestane ellende en vermoeienis.\nZooals ik al eens eerder verteld heb, bekommerde ik mij over 't\nalgemeen heel weinig om de besluiten die mijn makkers namen. Ik had\neenmaal mijn opinie geuit en bleef er bij, dat we moesten trachten\nin de Arabische Golf te komen of bij de monding van de Roode Zee om\ndaar een der talrijke in- en uitgaande schepen af te wachten, er ons\nzoo mogelijk van meester te maken en dan te koersen waarheen we maar\nwilden. Toen ze me nu begonnen te praten van een voetreis van twee\nof drieduizend mijlen, voor een deel door een woestijn, te midden\nvan allerlei verscheurende dieren, dreigde het bloed mij in de aderen\nte stollen--ik schaam mij niet dit te bekennen--en spande ik al mijn\noverredingskracht in, hen voor mijn oorspronkelijk denkbeeld te winnen.\nMaar ze waren allen zeer beslist in hun overtuiging, en ik kon\nevengoed mijn mond hebben gehouden. Ons twistgesprek eindigde dan\nook met mijn belofte dat ik mij bij de meerderheid zou neerleggen,\nen het besluit tot de gevaarlijke onderneming werd genomen.\nOns eerste werk was nu door waarnemingen betreffende den zonnestand\nvast te stellen waar we ons ten naastenbij bevonden; op 12 graden\nen 35 minuten ten zuiden van den evenaar zooals ons bleek. Daarna\nbestudeerden we zorgvuldig de zeekaarten en zagen we dat de kust van\nAngola tusschen 8 en 11 graden zuiderbreedte lag en de kust van Guinea\ntusschen 12 en 19 graden noorderbreedte.\nHet doel dat we ons ten slotte voor oogen stelden was de kust van\nAngola. Dit leek ons het best uitvoerbaar, daar we ons nagenoeg\nop dezelfde breedte bevonden en we deze streek dus, in rechte lijn\nwestwaards reizende, moesten bereiken. Daarbij twijfelde geen van ons\ner aan, of we zouden wel een of meer rivieren ontmoeten, die onzen\ntocht konden vergemakkelijken, terwijl we het groote meer, door de\ninboorlingen Coalmucoa genoemd--een binnenzee waaruit men zegt dat\nde Nijl ontspringt--per kano hoopten te kunnen oversteken. Maar we\nhadden de bezwaren onderschat, zooals uit het vervolg van mijn verhaal\nblijken zal.\nDe tweede overweging was, hoe we onze bagage zouden vervoeren, die we\nonder geen voorwaarde in den steek mochten laten. En wat hadden we\nmoeten beginnen zonder onze munitie, waarmee we ons voedsel moesten\nveroveren en ons verdedigen tegen wilde dieren en volksstammen\nmisschien? Toch was onze munitie alleen al een te zware vracht voor\nons, in een land, waar de hitte ons het eigen lichaam reeds tot last\ndeed zijn.\nDe negers ondervragende, kwamen we tot het resultaat dat er geen enkel\npakdier onder hen in gebruik was--geen paarden, ezels, muilen, kameelen\nof dromedarissen. Het eenige tamme beest dat ze er op nahielden was\neen soort van buffel, zooals wij er een geschoten hadden. Sommige van\ndie dieren luisterden naar hun stem en bevelen. Ook lieten ze hen wel\neens lasten dragen, en heel dikwijls gebruikten ze de buffels om,\nop hun rug gezeten, rivieren of meertjes over te steken, daar ze\nkolossale zwemmers waren.\nTotaal onbedreven in den omgang met die dieren en niet wetende hoe\nze te beladen, bleef dit vraagstuk ons echter groote zorg geven.\nTenslotte stelde ik voor: \"Laat ons ruzie zoeken met eenige van de\ninboorlingen, er een stuk of tien, twaalf gevangen nemen en ze als\nslaven meevoeren. We houden hen dan de geheele reis bij ons, laten\nze onze bagage dragen, den weg wijzen en met andere negerstammen voor\nons onderhandelen.\"\nDit niet zeer edele voorstel--maar de nood waarin we ons bevonden\nmoge als verontschuldiging gelden--vond eerst heftigen tegenstand,\nom ten slotte met algemeene instemming te worden aangenomen. Al te\nkieskeurig konden we in onze omstandigheden niet zijn en buitendien\ngaven de inboorlingen ons spoedig zelf aanleiding een straf op hen\ntoe te passen.\nNadat we tot nu toe steeds in goed vertrouwen met de negers gehandeld\nhadden, werden we op een keer leelijk door hen bedrogen.\nZooals reeds herhaaldelijk gebeurd was, hadden we eenige koeien van\nhen gekocht in ruil voor de snuisterijen die onze smid zoo kunstig\nwist te maken, doch toen er eens een klein meeningsverschil rees,\nnadat de negers de versierselen reeds in ontvangst hadden genomen,\nbegonnen ze onze onderhandelaars plotseling uit te schelden en als\ndollen te schreeuwen, eenige van hun kameraden met woeste gebaren en\nkreten beduidende het vee weg te drijven, en luidkeels lachende om de\nteleurstelling der onzen. Toen op het getier een paar van onze mannen,\ndie in de nabijheid vertoefden, kwamen aangesneld, wierp de neger\ndie den koop gesloten had zijn lans naar onzen smid, en het wapen was\nzoo juist gericht, dat hij stellig gedood zou zijn als hij niet juist\nbijtijds ter zijde was gesprongen. Nu kreeg hij alleen een vleeschwond\nin den linkerarm, 't geen hem echter zoo driftig maakte, dat hij zijn\ngeweer aanlegde en den zwarten bedrieger door het hart schoot.\nDe overige negers die bij het voorval tegenwoordig waren geweest en\neenige die het op korten afstand hadden gadegeslagen, waren niet weinig\nonthutst en beangst: eerst door den vuurstraal, toen door den knal en\neindelijk door het neerstorten van hun stamgenoot. Als verstijfd bleven\nze staan. Toen ze evenwel wat van den schrik bekomen waren, stiet een\nvan hen op flinken afstand van ons een doordringenden schreeuw uit,\neen soort van oorlogskreet, zooals ons weldra bleek, waarop al de\nanderen, hem onmiddellijk begrijpende, met denzelfden woesten schreeuw\nantwoordden en kwamen aangerend, terwijl wij, aanvankelijk zelfs niet\nvermoedende, wat er aan de hand was, in zoutpilaren schenen veranderd\nen elkaar als een troep dwazen aanstaarden.\nDoch al heel gauw werd de toestand ons maar al te duidelijk. In den\ntijd van twee of drie minuten plantte de eigenaardige rauwe schreeuw\nzich voort van de eene bewoonde plek naar de andere, door al hun dorpen\nof nederzettingen, zelfs tot over de kreek; en tot onze ontzetting\nzagen we even later een naakte menigte pijlsnel aanrennen naar de\nplek waar de twist ontstaan was. In minder dan een uur waren er een\nvijfhonderd wilden bijeen, sommige met pijl en boog, de meeste met\nlansen gewapend, die ze zoo verwonderlijk behendig wisten te hanteeren,\ndat ik hen menigmaal een vogel in zijn vlucht zag raken.\nEr bleef ons slechts zeer weinig tijd tot overleg over, daar de\nmenigte ieder oogenblik toenam, en ik geloof stellig dat ze--waren we\naan wal gebleven--in korten tijd tot tienduizend personen zou zijn\naangegroeid. Het beste wat wij dus doen konden was naar onze sloep\nte vluchten, vanwaar we ons behoorlijk hadden kunnen verdedigen, of\nonze vijanden wat dichter te naderen en te zien wat een paar salvo's\nzouden uitwerken.\nNa een haastige woordenwisseling besloten we tot het laatste,\nvertrouwende dat ons geweervuur hen van schrik op de vlucht zou\ndrijven. In aaneengesloten linie trokken we moedig op hen aan, terwijl\nzij ons afwachtten, niet anders denkende, naar ik veronderstel, dan dat\nze ons allen met hun lansen zouden dooden. Vrij dicht bij hen gekomen\nhielden we halt, en onze linie uitbreidende door den afstand tusschen\nelke twee mannen te vergrooten, gaven we vuur. Behalve verschillende\ngewonden die wisten te ontkomen, bleven er zestien zwarten op de\nplaats dood, terwijl er nog drie z\u00f3\u00f3 gevoelig geraakt waren, dat ze\nomstreeks twintig of dertig meter verder neervielen.\nOnmiddellijk na ons salvo barstten ze in een afgrijselijk geschreeuw\nof gehuil los, deels aangeheven door de gewonden, deels door de mannen\ndie de lijken beweenden van hen die roerloos terneer lagen. Nooit in\nmijn leven heb ik akeliger gejammer gehoord.\nNadat we gevuurd hadden, bleven we staan om onze geweren opnieuw te\nladen, en toen de wilden geen teekenen gaven de vlucht te willen nemen,\nlegden we weer op hen aan en doodden er nu omstreeks negen. Daar ze\nnu echter niet meer zoo dicht opeengedrongen stonden als in 't begin,\nvuurden we niet allen tegelijk, doch werd aan zeven van ons bevolen hun\nmunitie te sparen en voorwaarts te treden, zoodra de anderen geschoten\nhadden, terwijl deze voor de derde maal gelegenheid kregen te laden.\nZoodra wij het tweede salvo hadden afgevuurd, hieven we een luid\ngejuich aan, waaronder de zeven overigen ongeveer twintig meter\nnaderden en vuur gaven en de achtersten, die ook weer haastig geladen\nhadden, losbrandden. Eer het zoover gekomen was, gingen ze echter\naan den haal, alsof de duivel hen op de hielen zat.\nToen we op het slagveld kwamen, zagen we veel meer dooden op den\ngrond liggen dan we meenden te hebben getroffen, ja, zelfs meer dan we\nkogels hadden afgeschoten. Voor dit wonderlijke verschijnsel konden\nwe eerst geen verklaring vinden, maar na eenig nadenken kwamen we\ntot de gevolgtrekking, dat de zwarten eenvoudig door den schrik hun\nbewustzijn hadden verloren, en nadat wij de gevallenen zorgvuldig\nonderzocht hadden, bleek dit ook werkelijk het geval. Toch moeten er\nnaar mijn vaste overtuiging echter ook verscheiden onder geweest zijn\ndie enkel door den schrik stierven.\nNadat deze doodelijk ontstelden langzamerhand weer tot zichzelf gekomen\nwaren, schenen ze ons zoo ongeveer als bovennatuurlijke wezens te\nbeschouwen, als goden of duivels, w\u00e0t was ons niet recht duidelijk\nen liet ons ook onverschillig. De hoofdzaak was, dat ze ons met den\ngrootst mogelijken eerbied behandelden. Sommigen knielden voor ons\nneer, anderen lieten zich plat op den grond vallen [1] en maakten de\nvreemdste gebaren, meer dan dwaas in ons oog, maar duidelijk genoeg\nom ons te doen zien, dat ze zich onvoorwaardelijk onderwierpen.\nGeen schooner gelegenheid om gevangenen te maken en ze als lastdragers\nop onze reis mee te voeren, dacht ik, en gelukkig waren mijn kameraads\nhet allen met mij eens. We kozen dus een zestig flinke, sterke\njonge mannen uit en beduidden hen dat ze met ons mee moesten trekken,\nwaartoe ze zich onmiddellijk bereid toonden. De transport-moeilijkheid\nscheen hiermee dus opgelost, maar het bleef de vraag, of we de negers\nkonden vertrouwen, daar we de bevolking, in tegenstelling met die\nop Madagaskar, als woest, wraakgierig en verraderlijk hadden leeren\nkennen. Andere dan echte slavendiensten zouden we dus niet van hen\nmogen verwachten; alleen zoolang ze ons vreesden, zouden ze zich\nonderworpen betoonen en slechts onder dwang voor ons werken.\nEer ik verder ga moet ik hier even vertellen, dat ik van dien dag af\nmij wat ernstiger rekenschap begon te geven van de omstandigheden\nwaarin wij ons bevonden en mij meer om den gang van zaken begon te\nbekommeren. Mijn makkers waren wel alle vrij wat ouder dan ik, maar ik\nhad bij verschillende gelegenheden opgemerkt, dat ze 't hoofd kwijt\nraakten, of zooals ik het nu zou noemen \"weinig tegenwoordigheid van\ngeest toonden\", wanneer het tot handelen in ernstige omstandigheden\nkomen moest.\nBij hun twist met de inboorlingen werd mij dit voor 't eerst volkomen\nduidelijk. Hoewel ze toen toch vast besloten waren hen aan te vallen,\nzonk het hart hen al in de schoenen toen de zwarten, na het eerste\nsalvo, niet dadelijk het hazenpad kozen, en ik geloof zeker, dat de\nonzen--had ons vaartuig dichter onder hun bereik gelegen--als \u00e9\u00e9n\nman op de vlucht zouden zijn gegaan.\nVerbaasd over hun lafheid en bang dat ze den toestand geheel voor\nons zouden bederven, begon ik hen krachtig aan te moedigen en riep\nik hen bevelend toe, onmiddellijk op nieuw te laden en te vuren.\n\"Als jullie goed keurt dat ik de leiding neem, kan ik je verzekeren,\ndat we de negers allen op de vlucht zullen drijven!\" verzekerde ik hen,\nvolkomen overtuigd van wat ik beweerde.\nEn zoo gebeurde het ook.\nToen er voor de tweede maal geladen was, commandeerde ik dat slechts\nde grootste helft van ons zoude vuren. \"En nu, kameraden,\" zei ik,\n\"in stormpas erop af!\" Onder een luid hoera, snelde ik de mannen\nvooruit die nog niet geschoten hadden, en nog eer ik bevel tot vuren\ngaf, rende de heele zwarte bende voor ons weg, het bosch in.\nVan dit oogenblik af noemden de Portugezen mij half spottend, half in\nernst Seignior Capitanio, maar toen ik hen zei dat ik geen \"Seignior\"\nwenschte te heeten, stelde de kanonnier, die vrij goed Engelsch sprak\nvoor, mij \"Kapitein Bob\" te noemen, en dezen titel behield ik voortaan.\nEen eigenaardigheid van de Portugeezen, die ik telkens gedurende\nmijn leven onder hen opmerkte, is, dat ze--zoowel in massa als ieder\nafzonderlijk--zich flink genoeg gedragen wanneer ze een opwekkend\nvoorbeeld hebben, krachtig worden aangespoord en gesteund; zijn ze\nevenwel geheel op zichzelf aangewezen, dan laten ze gauw den moed\nzinken en brengen het tot niets. Zoo zouden ze ook in ons geval\nongetwijfeld voor een troep wilden gevlucht zijn--al hadden ze op\ndie wijze toch hun leven niet kunnen redden--als ik hun niet had\ntoegeroepen stand te houden en de heele geschiedenis eerder als een\nspel dan als een ernstig gevecht had voorgesteld.\nOok bij verschillende volgende gelegenheden, merkte ik deze\nkarakterzwakte op, en ik moet bekennen, dat ik me menigmaal later\nafvroeg, hoe een troepje mannen--dat in critieke oogenblikken zoo\nin geestkracht te kort schoot--het stoute besluit kon hebben gevat\nom de roekelooste en slechtst uitvoerbaren tocht te beramen, welke\nooit ter wereld ondernomen werd.\nTwee of drie flinke kerels vormden den kern van ons gezelschap en\nhielden het door hun energie en werkkracht bijeen. Van den beginne af\nhadden deze trouwens eenige leiding aan onze zwerftochten gegeven en\nin moeilijke gevallen raad weten te schaffen; het waren in de eerste\nplaats de kanonnier, ten tweede onze artiest, de fijnsmid, en ten\nderde--hoewel niet met de twee vorigen te vergelijken--een van onze\ntimmerlieden. Dit drietal vormde de ziel van elke onderneming en aan\nhun persoonlijken moed dankten de overigen de standvastigheid, die ze\nnu en dan nog aan den dag legden. Toen zij zagen dat ik bereid was ook\neen deel van de verantwoordelijkheid op me te nemen, drukten ze mij\nde hand en bij volgende gelegenheden vroegen ze altijd mijn oordeel.\nOnze kanonnier was een uitstekend wiskunstenaar, die veel gelezen en\nop zijn manier gestudeerd had. Door veel met hem te praten, leerde\nik ook de gronden van de verschillende wetenschappen kennen, die met\nde scheepvaart verband houden, en voornamelijk over aardrijkskundige\naangelegenheden vertelde hij gaarne.\nToen hij bemerkte, dat ik gretig verlangde te weten en te begrijpen,\nbracht hij me op velerlei gebied zijn algemeene kennis bij, gaf\nmij een juist begrip van den vorm der aarde, de ligging der landen\nten opzichte van elkaar, den loop der rivieren en deelde hij me\nmede wat hij wist van de leerstellingen omtrent de sferen en de\nbeweging der sterren. Deze laatste wetenschap vooral wekte sterk mijn\nbelangstelling, en in mijn later leven heb ik er steeds naar getracht\nvoor mezelf een aannemelijk astronomisch stelsel op te bouwen.\nDe omgang met dezen eenvoudigen, ontwikkelden man deed den vurigen\nwensch bij mij ontwaken, om \u00e1l wat onder mijn bereik kwam te leeren\nen overtuigde mij, dat ik het nooit tot iets flinks in de wereld zou\nkunnen brengen, wanneer ik niet een grootere mate van kennis vergaarde\ndan waarover zeelieden gewoonlijk beschikken. Hij wees er mij op, dat\nonwetendheid den mensch altijd tot een onderschikten rang veroordeelt\nen prees mij om mijn begeerte en vatbaarheid om te leeren.\nDoor zijn lof gevleid en niet vrij van eerzucht, besloot ik later--als\nwe weer in Europa terug mochten komen en ik ooit wat geld bezitten\nzou, alles in 't werk te stellen, om datgene te bestudeeren wat iemand\ntot een knap zeevaarder kan maken.\nMaar ik moet tot mijn verhaal terugkeeren.\nToen de kanonnier mij, na mijn ingrijpen in 't gevecht, hoorde\nvoorstellen een deel onzer gevangenen als lastdragers mee te voeren,\nkeerde hij zich naar mij toe en zei op luiden toon:\n\"Kap'tein Bob, ik ben van oordeel dat jij voortaan onze leider moet\nzijn, want we danken den goeden afloop van dit ernstige avontuur\nenkel en alleen aan jou.\"\n\"Neen,\" weerde ik af. \"Je moet niet overdrijven wat ik gedaan\nheb. Laten we jou liever tot Capitano kiezen. Ik ben veel te jong.\"\nZoo werd toen besloten dat hij onze aanvoerder zou wezen; maar daar hij\nniet alleen de verantwoordelijkheid wilde dragen, verzocht hij mij hem\nte willen ter zijde staan, en toen allen zijn verzoek ondersteunden,\nmoest ik hier wel in toestemmen.\nDe eerste opdracht die ik in mijn nieuwe waardigheid kreeg was al\nbuitengewoon moeilijk, n.l. om de leiding van de gevangenen op mij\nte nemen, 't geen ik echter met goed vertrouwen ondernam. Lastiger\ndan dit \"karweitje\" bleken evenwel nog de vraagstukken waarover wij\nraad belegden: welken weg we zouden inslaan en hoe we ons van den\nnoodigen proviand konden voorzien.\nOnder de gevangenen bevond zich een lange, knappe, welgemaakte neger,\nwien de overigen veel eerbied bewezen en die, zooals we later hoorden,\nde zoon van een hunner koningen was. Naar 't scheen werd zijn vader\nbij ons eerste salvo gedood, terwijl hij een schot in den arm en in de\nheup gekregen had. Daar het laatste schot in het vleezige gedeelte was\naangekomen, voelde hij zich doodzwak door al het bloedverlies. Beide\nwonden hadden hem geheel buiten gevecht gesteld en we zouden hem\nmisschien rustig hebben laten sterven, indien het niet bij me was\nopgekomen, dat hij ons van grooten dienst zou kunnen zijn, als een\nsoort van bevelvoerder over onze lastdragers. Ik verzocht dus onzen\nchirurgijnsleerling hem onder handen te nemen en beduidde den armen\ndrommel zoo goed ik kon, dat we hem weer zouden genezen.\nNiet te verwonderen dat het verzorgen en verbinden van hun vorst den\neerbied der negers voor ons nog verhoogde! Blijkbaar meenden ze dat we\nop een even geheimzinnige manier konden dooden als weer levend maken,\nen nadat de Zwarte Prins, zooals we hem gemakshalve noemden, een zes\nof zevental negers bij zich geroepen en hun iets bevolen had, kwamen\nze alle zeven naar mij toe, vielen op de knie\u00ebn en maakten--telkens\nnaar de plek wijzende, waar hun koning gevallen was--aandoenlijk\nsmeekende gebaren.\nEerst begreep ik niet wat ze wilden, maar toen een van hen den doode\noprichtte, op zijn hoofdwond en toen naar den chirurgijn wees, werd\nhet ons duidelijk, dat ze ons in staat achtten ook de gesneuvelden\ntot het leven terug te brengen.\nOns onvermogen wijselijk verbergende, deelden we hen mee dat de\ngedooden de personen waren, die ons het eerst hadden aangevallen en\ndat we ze daarom in geen geval weer levend wilden maken, maar dat we\nden jongen vorst, mits hij ons gehoorzaam bleef, niet zouden laten\nsterven en zijn pols en been genezen.\nHierna liet hij een der mannen een langen pijl halen en voor hem op den\ngrond leggen. Den pijl met zijn linkerhand aanvattende--de rechterpols\nwas gebroken--wees hij naar de zon, brak den schicht toen in twee\u00ebn,\nrichtte de punt op zijn borst en reikte mij die toen aan. Uit een\nen ander maakten wij op, dat hij de zon tot getuige riep van zijn\nonveranderlijke vriendschap voor mij. En geen Christen had zich ooit\nnauwgezetter aan een eed kunnen houden dan deze wilde koningszoon, die\nzich gedurende vele moeilijke maanden een verknocht dienaar betoonde.\nToen ik hem bij den chirurgijn had gebracht, begon deze de wonden\nonmiddellijk te verzorgen. Wat de heup betreft--de kogel was er\ngelukkig niet in doorgedrongen, maar had slechts een oppervlakkige\nvleeschwonde veroorzaakt, die, behoorlijk gereinigd en verbonden,\nspoedig weer genas; maar met den pols was het ernstiger gesteld; een\nder beenderen van den onderarm bleek gebroken. Nadat onze dokter het\nlichaamsdeel gezet en gespalkt had, bond hij het in een draagband of\nlichter, die hij om den nek van den pati\u00ebnt vastmaakte, hem beduidende\ndat hij den arm niet mocht bewegen. Dit voorschrift volgde de wilde\nzoo stipt op, dat hij ging zitten en zich niet verroerde, tenzij de\nchirurgijn hem permissie gaf.\nIk getroostte mij veel moeite om dezen neger verstaanbaar te maken\nwat ons plan was en welke diensten we van zijn mannen wilden vergen;\nin de eerste plaats leerde ik hem de beteekenis van verschillende\nveelgebruikte woorden, en daar hij zeer vlug van begrip bleek,\nbereikte ik veel meer met mijn onderricht dan ik me had voorgesteld.\nToen hij uit onze toebereidselen opmaakte dat we ook voor 't begin\nvan de reis proviand vergaarden, deelde hij ons mee, dat dit geheel\noverbodig was, daar we nog gedurende veertig dagreizen voedsel zouden\nvinden. Aanvankelijk kon hij ons het getal veertig niet begrijpelijk\nmaken, tot eindelijk een der negers, op zijn bevel, veertig steentjes\nop een rij legde, ons met gebaren beduidende, dat we zooveel dagen\nvoedsel zouden vinden als hij steentjes neerlegde.\nDaarop toonde ik hem onze bagage, een heele vracht, dank zij\nonze munitie, onze timmermans- en smidsgereedschappen, onze\nzeemans-instrumenten, kisten met flesschen enz. Nadat hij eenige\nartikelen ter hand had genomen, om het gewicht te keuren, schudde hij\nhet hoofd, waarop ik onze mannen verzocht al hun hebben en houden zoo\nbeknopt mogelijk te verpakken en wat niet strikt noodig was achter te\nlaten. Met leedwezen offerden we dus onze elf kisten op, die ons bij\n't kampeeren zulke goede diensten hadden bewezen.\nDaarop beloofde hij ons eenige jonge buffels om de pakken te dragen,\nte kennen gevende, dat ze ons als we moe werden, ook een tijdlang\nop hun rug konden nemen, een denkbeeld dat we met verontwaardiging\nafwezen. Wel overlegden we, dat de buffels, als we ze niet langer\nals pakdieren noodig hadden, zeer eetbaar voedsel zouden opleveren.\nToen dit alles vastgesteld was, bracht ik hem naar onze sloep,\nwaarover hij de grootste verbazing uitte. Nog nooit had hij iets\ndergelijks gezien.\nHun booten waren maar armzalige vaartuigjes, zonder stuur of steven,\ngemaakt uit geitenvellen, die ze met gedroogde darmen aaneennaaiden\nen met een mengsel van hars en olie bestreken, dat een afschuwelijke\nlucht van zich gaf. De kano's van de inboorlingen op Madagaskar konden\nmeesterstukken van scheepsbouw genoemd worden bij deze ongelukkige\ndingen vergeleken.\nToen we onzen vorst aan boord geholpen hadden, want zijn been hinderde\nhem nog, lieten we hem den inhoud zien en beduidden hem dat zijn\nmannen dat alles voor ons dragen moesten. \"Ce Seignior\", en \"Yes Sir\"\nantwoordde hij lachend, en een pak optillende, gaf hij te kennen,\ndat hij zelf ook zou helpen dragen, zoo gauw zijn arm genezen was,\nwat echter niet in onze bedoeling lag, daar hij boven de andere negers\nmoest staan.\nOnze gevangenen hadden we inmiddels binnen een ruw paalwerk of\npalissade opgesloten en hen met touwen van gevlochten plantenvezels\ngebonden. Nadat we hun vorst weer aan wal hadden gedragen, namen we\nhem mee naar de gevangenen en lieten hun vragen of ze met ons wilden\nreizen naar het land van de leeuwen. Uit zijn druk gepraat begrepen\nwe alleen maar dat ze \"Ce Seignior\" moesten zeggen als ze mee wilden,\nen tot onze verwondering riepen ze allen \"Ce Seignior! Ce Seignior!\" in\nhun handen klappende en naar de zon opkijkende, 't geen, volgens hun\nhoofdman, een gelofte van trouw beteekende.\nOnmiddellijk na het afleggen van dezen eed evenwel, begon een van\nhen een lange rede tegen den vorst te houden, waarin hij telkens met\nde dwaaste gebaren op ons wees en iets van ons scheen te wenschen,\ndat hun allen na aan 't harte ging. Toen ik den jongen koningszoon\nvroeg wat ze begeerden, zei hij: de zekerheid dat we hen niet zouden\ndooden maar hen chiaruck (voedsel) zouden geven en niet door de\nwilde dieren laten verscheuren. Deze gelofte legde ik gaarne af,\nwaarop hij naar de zon wees en in de handen klapte, een voorbeeld,\ndat ik begreep te moeten volgen, en nadat ik mijn verklaring dus\nonder eede bevestigd had, vielen al de gevangenen plat op den grond\nen uitten, weer opgestaan, de vreemdste, schrilste kreten die ik ooit\nvan menschelijke wezens gehoord heb.\nZoodra deze plechtigheid was afgeloopen, wijdden we al onze aandacht\naan het vraagstuk van de proviand, die wij toch, zoowel voor\nonze gevangenen, als voor onszelf zouden noodig hebben, en in mijn\ngebarengesprek hieromtrent met den vorst, gaf hij mij te verstaan, dat\nals ik een der gevangenen wilde loslaten, deze naar hun dorp zou gaan,\nom lastdieren en voedsel te halen. Blijkbaar zette ik een gezicht alsof\nik de zaak niet vertrouwde, hij begon tenminste betuigingen van trouw\nte uiten en bond o.a. een stuk touw om zijn hals, waarvan hij mij het\neene einde toehield, te kennen gevende, dat ik hem mocht ophangen\nals de neger niet terugkwam. Ik stemde dus toe en liet den slaaf\nvrij, die daarop uitvoerige instructies van zijn meester ontving,\nook betreffende den tijd van zijn terugkomst, 't geen viel af te\nleiden uit hun zorgvuldig waarnemen van den zonnestand.\nDe neger rende alsof hij bezeten was en hield dit vol tot hij geheel\nuit het gezicht verdween, waaruit ik opmaakte, dat hij een langen\nweg had af te leggen.\nDen volgenden morgen, omstreeks twee uur na zonsopgang, wenkte\n\"de Zwarte Prins\" mij dringend, bij hem te komen, een verzoek,\ndat hij met een eigenaardig geroep ondersteunde. Toen ik naast hem\nstond, wees hij naar een heuvel op ongeveer twee mijlen afstands en\nscherp turende, onderscheidde ik duidelijk een kleine drift vee en\nverscheiden inboorlingen.\nDit waren, zooals hij me beduidde, de mannen die hij had uitgezonden\nen eenige stamgenooten.\nNog voor den afgesproken tijd kwam hij dan ook bij onze hutten aan met\nverscheiden runderen, ongeveer zestien geiten en vier jonge buffels,\ngeoefend in het dragen van lasten.\nHOOFDSTUK V.\nSTROOMOPWAARTS.\nVoorloopig dus vleeschvoorraad genoeg. Wat brood betreft moesten we\nons tevreden stellen met een niet zeer smakelijk gebak van gemalen\nwortelen. Daarna overlegden we, hoe we aan groote knapzakken zouden\nkomen om den mondkost in te vervoeren, en daar de geiten gedood waren,\ngaf ik bevel de huiden in de zon uit te spreiden, waarna ze binnen\ntwee dagen zoo droog waren als we maar konden wenschen. Toen de Zwarte\nPrins begreep waarvoor ze bestemd waren en hoe gemakkelijk een last\nhierdoor te dragen viel, glimlachte hij en zond een paar mannen weg,\ndie, geholpen door twee andere negers, met een grooten voorraad huiden\nterugkwam. Deze huiden bleken veel beter gedroogd en behandeld dan\nde onze en van diersoorten, ons tot nu toe onbekend.\nVerder brachten de zwarten hun vorst nog twee lansen mee, ongeveer\nzooals ze die in hun gevechten gebruikten, doch veel mooier. Ze\nwaren van een donkere houtsoort vervaardigd, die aan ebbenhout deed\ndenken en aan 't uiteinde voorzien van een scherpe punt, bestaande\nuit een langen tand van 't een of ander wild dier. Met verbazing en\nbewondering voelden we hoe scherp de spits was en hoe stevig de tand,\nniet langer dan mijn duim, er in bevestigd zat.\nDe vorst wilde de wapens niet aannemen voor ik hem verlof gaf en\nwenkte de inboorlingen, ze mij aan te bieden, doch ik stond hem\ngaarne toe ze zelf te gebruiken, daar ik hem als een man van nobele\nen rechtvaardige beginselen meende te mogen beschouwen.\nToen we marschvaardig stonden, kwam de Prins naar mij toe, om mij,\nachtereenvolgens naar de vier windstreken wijzende, te vragen,\nwelken kant we dachten uit te trekken, en toen ik naar het westen\nwees, beduidde hij ons, dat er, iets noordelijker, een stroom liep\ndie onze sloep verscheiden mijlen ver landwaarts in zou kunnen brengen.\nDankbaar van den wenk gebruik makende, stelde ik mijn makkers voor,\nonze reis op deze wijze te vergemakkelijken.\nVolgens den Prins was de riviermonding omstreeks een dagreis van ons\nverwijderd, en onze kaarten raadplegende, moest het de rivier zijn,\ndie op het meest noordelijke gedeelte van de kust van Mozambique\nstaat aangegeven en daar Quilloa genoemd wordt.\nNa rijp beraad, besloten we den prins en zooveel van de gevangenen\nals we bergen konden in ons schip te nemen en den stroom bij de baai\nbinnen te varen, terwijl acht der onzen met de overige gevangenen\nover land naar de rivier zouden trekken en hen daar ontmoeten. Dit was\ngemakkelijk te doen, daar de afstand tot aan een zuidelijke bocht--van\neen heuvel af duidelijk te zien--naar onze schatting niet meer dan\nzeven mijlen kon bedragen.\nMij viel het lot te beurt den tocht te voet te maken en als aanvoerder\nvan de kleine karavaan op te treden. Behalve zevenendertig gevangenen\nkreeg ik acht van onze gewapende mannen mee, terwijl we alle bagage\naan boord lieten. Eigenaardig, zoo tam als de jonge stieren waren, die\nwe voor ons uitdreven! De negers lieten zich, soms bij vier tegelijk,\ndoor de goedige dieren dragen; ze aten uit onze hand, likten ons de\nvoeten en waren zoo volgzaam als huishonden.\nBehalve de stieren hadden we ook zes of zeven koeien voor onze\nvoeding, en tot groote verbazing van de negers zagen ze later hoe we\nhet rundvleesch zoutten en droogden, een manier die ze buitengewoon\nlekker schenen te vinden en gretig navolgden.\nVoor ons, die de reis over land maakten, bleek het al een heel\ngemakkelijke tocht, maar het duurde ongeveer vijf dagen eer de\nanderen ons daar troffen. De wind was in de baai geheel gaan liggen\nen de afstand langs de rivier, door een niet verwachte kromming in\nhaar loop, ongeveer vijftig Engelsche mijlen.\nGelukkig konden we den wachttijd nuttig besteden, daar de inboorlingen\ndie den Prins de mooie lansen gebracht hadden, ons leerden een soort\nvan flesschen van geitenvellen te maken om daar zoet water in te\nbewaren; en de zwartjes deden dit zoo handig, dat--nog eer ons schip\nin zicht kwam--ieder voorzien was van een buidel of blaasvormigen zak,\ndien ze door middel van een riem, uit smalle reepjes van een andere\nhuid gesneden, over hun schouder hingen.\nTen einde ons van den trouw der mannen te verzekeren, had de Prins\nbevolen, hen twee aan twee met de polsen aan elkaar te binden, zooals\nwe bij 't vervoer van Engelsche gevangenen doen, en hij wist hen zoo\nte overtuigen van het redelijke van dezen eisch, dat hij er hen toe\nbracht zichzelf te koppelen, waarvoor hij er vier van hen aanwees. Wij\nvonden hen echter zoo betrouwbaar en vooral zoo absoluut gehoorzaam aan\nhun aanvoerder, dat we hen, toen we wat verder weg waren van de streek\nwaar ze gewoond hadden, de volledige vrijheid van beweging hergaven.\nDe oevers der rivier waren zoover wij zien konden, vrij hoog; nergens\nmoerassig land; het groen zag er malsch en frisch uit en waar we ook\nkeken, ontdekten we dan ook kleine kudden vee, die hier blijkbaar\nnaar hartelust voedsel vonden. In onze onmiddellijke nabijheid lag\ngeen bosch, doch verderop onderscheidden we ceders, eiken en sparren,\nsommige kolossaal hoog.\nDe rivier was ongeveer zoo breed als de Theems bij Gravesend en\nvrij diep. Gebruik makende van den vloed en van de windrichting,\ndie nog steeds Oost en O. N. O. bleef, zeilden we vroolijk de rivier\nop en vorderden zelfs nog behoorlijk, toen de eb intrad, maar zoodra\nwe den invloed van 't getij niet meer ondergingen en de stroom in\nvolle kracht tegen kregen, werd het ons te machtig en begonnen we\ner ernstig over te denken ons schip te verlaten. Onze Prins wilde\nhier evenwel niet van hooren, en daar hij gezien had, dat we een vrij\ngrooten voorraad gevlochten vezeltouw aan boord hadden, beval hij al\nde gevangenen aan wal, die touwen beet te pakken en ons te trekken,\nen daar we ons zeil hadden opgezet om het hun wat gemakkelijker te\nmaken, kwamen we nog met een behoorlijk vaartje vooruit.\nNaar onze berekening maakten we op die wijze nog over een afstand\nvan tweehonderd mijlen gebruik van de rivier. Toen werd deze echter\nsteeds smaller, en na nog een dag reizens, kwamen we aan een geweldigen\nwaterval, die ons plotseling verhinderde verder te varen. 't Was alsof\nde heele watermassa opeens loodrecht van een hoogte van omstreeks\nzestig voet naar beneden stortte met een donderend geraas, waarbij ons\nhooren en zien verging en dat we al op tien mijlen afstands gehoord\nhadden, zonder te weten wat het veroorzaakte.\nHadden we kano's of andere bootjes bezeten die gepagaaid of geroeid\nkonden worden, dan zouden we de rivier nog wel een tweehonderd mijlen\nbevaren hebben, maar nu lieten we de gevangenen die elkaar aan de lijn\nhadden afgewisseld, het eerst van boord gaan en allen met elkaar een\nwelverdiende rust genieten.\nGedurende dit heele traject hadden we mooie vruchtbare groene oevers\ngezien met veel vee en hier en daar een paar menschen. 't Bleek\nevenwel dat onze negers zich niet met hen verstaanbaar konden maken\ndaar ze een andere taal spraken en tot een anderen stam behoorden.\nWilde beesten hadden we nauwelijks ontmoet. Slechts eenmaal, twee\ndagen voor we den waterval bereikten, zagen we aan den noordelijken\noever--onze gevangenen waren alle aan de zuidzijde van den stroom--drie\nprachtexemplaren van luipaarden die roerloos op den hoogen oever\nstonden te kijken.\nOnze kanonnier kreeg ze het eerst in 't oog, vloog weg om zijn\ngeweer te halen, stopte er een extra kogel in en riep me toe: \"Zeg,\nKap'tein Bob, waar zit je prins ergens?\" en toen ik hem gehaald had,\nverzocht hij hem: \"Waarschuw je mannen dat ze niet bang moeten zijn,\nmaar eens goed kijken hoe dit vuurding in mijn hand op grooten afstand\nde wilde dieren kan dooden.\"\nHoewel hun aanvoerder onmiddellijk het verzoek opvolgde, keken\nde arme negers elkaar toch aan alsof ze ieder oogenblik hun eigen\ndood verwachtten. Angstig staarden ze daarop naar den kanonnier die,\nuitstekend schutter als hij was, aanlegde en een der dieren met twee\nkogels in den kop trof. Het luipaard sprong op, stond een oogenblik op\nde achterpooten, zwaaide met zijn voorpooten heen en weer, viel op zijn\nrug, lag nog even huilend en grommend te stuiptrekken en bleef dood,\nterwijl de andere twee, verschrikt door het schot waren weggevlucht\nen in minder dan geen tijd uit het gezicht verdwenen.\nMaar de ontsteltenis der luipaarden haalde niet bij die van onze\nnegers! Vier of vijf van hen stortten neer alsof ze getroffen waren,\nverscheiden andere vielen op de knie\u00ebn en hieven hun handen tot ons\nop; of dit was uit vereering of om den dood af te weren, weet ik\nniet, en het kostte hun aanvoerder wien wij verzochten hen gerust te\nstellen, heel wat moeite hen weer tot rede te brengen. Ja de prins\nzelf--ofschoon geheel door ons voorbereid en op de hoogte van wat er\ngebeuren zou--sprong, toen het schot afging, omhoog zoodat we vreesden\nhem in de rivier te zien terecht komen.\nToen we den luipaard dood zagen liggen, bekroop mij de begeerte\nnaar zijn mooie huid en ik beduidde dus den prins het dier door zijn\nmannen te laten stroopen. Nauwelijks had hij hun mijn wensch kenbaar\ngemaakt, of verscheiden negers boden zich aan, waarvan hij er vier\naanwees, die onmiddellijk in de rivier sprongen en naar den overkant\nzwommen. Met een mes, den aanvoerder vroeger door ons geschonken, had\nhij, ongelooflijk handig, vier zeer bruikbare houten messen gemaakt,\nen hiermee gewapend trokken de zwarten aan 't werk. In minder dan\neen uur brachten ze me de huid, die van kop tot staart ongeveer\nzeven voet lang was, over den rug gemeten nagenoeg vijf voet breed\nen buitengewoon mooi gevlekt. Ik bewaarde de vacht dan ook zuinig en\nnam hem jaren later mee naar Londen.\nNu ons vaartuig niet verder gebruikt kon worden en we allen ontscheept\nwaren, stonden we dus, wat het voortzetten der reis betrof, allemaal\ngelijk. Geen wonder echter dat het in den steek laten van onze met\nmoeite veroverde sloep ons aan 't hart ging, en daar de rivier zijn\nweg nog vele mijlen vervolgen zou, kwam een van ons op de gedachte om\nons schip uit elkaar te slaan en van het hout kleine bootjes te maken,\nwaarmee we den stroom zouden kunnen opvaren. Onze timmerlui voorzagen\nevenwel, dat hier heel veel tijd mee zou gemoeid zijn en we, bij gebrek\naan spijkers, pek en teer, er niet in zouden slagen onze vaartuigjes\nwaterdicht te maken. Toen de prins onze bezwaren begreep, raadde hij\nons te wachten tot we een paar groote boomen aan den oever vonden. Zijn\nmannen konden ons dan in een vierde van den tijd een paar kano's maken,\ndie ons dezelfde diensten zouden bewijzen als onze bootjes, en die ze,\nkwamen we aan een waterval, op hun schouders konden nemen en dragen\ntot de stroom opnieuw bevaarbaar zou zijn.\nHet verstandige van dezen raad inziende, trokken we ons hart van de\nsloep af, en sleepten we het scheepje in een nauwen inham, waar een\nbeek in de rivier mondde, en reizigers die na ons mochten komen,\ner misschien nog iets aan hebben zouden.\nHoe ongelooflijk het klinken moge, gingen er toch nog twee dagen heen\nmet het verdeelen en opladen van al ons reisgoed.\nMet onze munitie--misschien het kostbaarste, van wat we\nbezaten--handelden we aldus: het kruit verdeelden we in kleine leeren\nzakjes--d.w.z. zakjes van gedroogde huiden, het haar naar binnen,\nom den inhoud goed droog te bewaren. Daarna stopten we die zakjes\nin andere zakken van stierenhuiden, met het haar naar buiten om alle\nvocht er uit te weren, en deze methode bleek z\u00f3\u00f3 practisch, dat we er\nzelfs bij de geweldigste en aanhoudendste regens in slaagden, ons kruit\nvolkomen droog te bewaren. Buiten deze zakjes die ons groote magazijn\nvormden, deelden we nog aan ieder een kwart pond kruit en een half pond\nkogels uit om altijd bij de hand te hebben. Meer dan het hoognoodige\nbesloten we, met het oog op de hitte, niet op ons te dragen.\nDaar wij tot nu toe niet verder het land in waren gegaan, maar steeds\naan den oever waren gebleven, hadden we nog zeer weinig aanraking met\nde bewoners van die streken gehad. Onze sloep had heel wat provisie\naan boord, dus behoefden we niet op jacht te gaan naar mondkost,\nmaar nu onze voetreizen weer aanvingen, moesten we natuurlijk naar\nvoedsel omzien.\nDe eerste plek dicht bij de rivier, waar we ons even ophielden was\neen kleine negerkolonie van ongeveer vijftig hutten met naar schatting\neen vierhonderdtal bewoners.\nBij onze nadering kwamen allen te voorschijn, om ons verbaasd aan te\ngapen, en toen ze onze gevangenen zagen, grepen de hutbewoners naar de\nwapens, meenende dat een vijandelijke stam hen kwam bestrijden. Hoewel\nonze negers hun taal niet kenden, wisten ze hun gauw te beduiden,\ndat ze geen wapens droegen en zelfs twee aan twee aan elkaar waren\ngebonden, waartoe de Zwarte Prins hen weer gedwongen had, en dat de\nblanken hen allen naar willekeur konden dooden en weer levend maken,\nmaar dat ze met vreedzame bedoelingen kwamen.\nZoodra dit tot hen was doorgedrongen, legden ze hun lansen, pijlen\nen bogen neer en haalden twaalf staken, die ze als een vredesteeken\nin den grond plantten, zich diep en eerbiedig voor ons terneer\nbuigende. Nauwelijks echter kregen ze een paar van onze mannen, die\neen baard of knevel droegen, in 't oog, of ze renden onder angstig\ngeschreeuw weg.\nVan meening dat het verstandiger was niet te gauw vertrouwelijk met hen\nte worden, hielden we ons op een afstand, en droegen onze gevangenen\nop, hen te beduiden dat we voedsel verlangden.\nSchijnbaar zeer bereidwillig kwamen ze daarop met een paar zwarte\nrunderen aan--dat gedeelte van Afrika scheen een overvloed van koeien,\nbuffels en ook veel herten op te leveren--en toen onze fijnsmid,\ndie nu een heelen voorraad sieradi\u00ebn vervaardigd had, hun eenige\nvan die fraaiigheden aanbood, waren ze uitgelaten van vreugde. Uit\ndankbaarheid brachten ze ons allerlei vruchten en wortels, die wij\ntot nu toe niet kenden, maar die onze gevangenen zich voortreffelijk\nlieten smaken, waarop wij ook veilig konden toetasten.\nNadat we ons op deze nederzetting flink van vleesch en plantenkost\nvoorzien hadden, verdeelden wij den last onder onze negers, ieder zoo\nongeveer dertig pond toewijzende, wat meer dan voldoende was in zoo'n\nheet klimaat. De wilden voelden er zich blijkbaar volstrekt niet door\nbezwaard, maar hielpen elkaar nog wanneer er eens een vermoeidheid\ntoonde, wat evenwel zeer zelden voorkwam. Buitendien werden hun\nlasten--evenals Aesopus' broodmand--daar ze hoofdzakelijk uit mondkost\nbestonden, met den dag lichter, tot we weer een gelegenheid vonden,\nhet verbruikte aan te vullen.--Ik moet hierbij opmerken dat we hun\nhanden, wanneer ze dragen moesten, losmaakten, doch hen dan twee aan\ntwee met een hunner voeten aan elkaar bonden.\nDen derden dag na het opbreken van onze laatste rustplaats, verzocht\nonze eerste timmerman ons halt te houden en onze hutten op te slaan,\ndaar hij een paar boomen in 't oog had gekregen, die hem buitengewoon\ngeschikt schenen, om er kano's van te maken. Naar zijn oordeel zouden\nwe nog lang genoeg op de been moeten zijn als we de rivier niet\nmeer onder ons bereik hadden, en hij voor zich had ten minste vast\nbesloten niet meer te loopen, dan strikt noodig was. Dit denkbeeld leek\nverstandig, en nauwelijks hadden we het aan de negers vertolkt en hen\nvan hun lasten ontheven, of ze trokken aan 't werk. Met verwondering\nzagen we, hoe ze, ondanks hun gebonden voeten, met groote vaardigheid\nin zeer korten tijd een aantal hutten bouwden.\nOnder waarborg van hun aanvoerder, lieten wij eenige van de zwartjes\nhier geheel vrij om ze tot handlangers van de timmerlui aan te stellen,\n't geen ze na enkele aanwijzingen zeer handig deden.\nEenige anderen zonden wij uit om te zien, of ze in de buurt ook\nvoedsel konden bemachtigen, maar in plaats daarvan kwamen er drie\nvan hen terug met bogen en pijlen en vijf lansen. Slechts met moeite\nkonden we uit hun verklaringen wijs worden, dat ze die wapens gevonden\nhadden in een paar verlaten hutten, waaruit de vrouwen en kinderen\nbij hun nadering schenen weggevlucht.\nTerwijl we ons zeer boos hielden, lieten we hen door den Zwarten Prins\nvragen of ze die vrouwen en kinderen niet vermoord hadden. Mocht\ndit de ware toedracht der zaak zijn, dan zouden wij hen tot straf\nook laten dooden. Ze betuigden echter z\u00f3\u00f3 nadrukkelijk hun onschuld,\ndat we hen vergaven.\nDe lansen, bogen en pijlen leverden ze ons onmiddellijk uit, maar op\nvoorstel van hun vorst gaven we hun de pijlen en bogen terug om te\nzien of ze wat vogels of wild voor ons konden schieten.\nTegelijkertijd schreven we hun de wapenwet voor, hierin bestaande,\ndat wanneer iemand hen ooit mocht aanvallen of op hen schieten of\nop eenige wijze geweld aandoen, zij hem mochten dooden, maar dat\nze niemand leed mochten toebrengen, die met vreedzame bedoelingen\ntot hen kwam en de wapens neerlegde. Ook was het onder geen beding\ngeoorloofd tegen vrouwen of kinderen de wapens te hanteeren. Aan deze\nvoorschriften zou streng de hand worden gehouden.\nDe beide negers zullen zoo ongeveer drie of vier uur weg zijn geweest,\ntoen een van hen zonder zijn pijl en boog in draf terugkwam, al maar\nroepende \"Okoamo! Okoamo!\" 't geen \"Help! Help!\" scheen te beteekenen.\nDe andere gevangenen vlogen dan ook haastig op en liepen naar hen toe,\nzoo snel als hun koppelbanden het veroorloofden, terwijl de Zwarte\nPrins keek, alsof er iets ongelukkigs gebeurd was en eenige onzer\nmannen al naar de wapens grepen om op alle mogelijkheden bedacht te\nzijn. Maar de zaak werd ons al heel gauw duidelijk, toen vier onzer\ngevangenen na korten tijd terugkeerden met een flinken last vleesch\nop hun schouders. De twee zwarten die verlof hadden gekregen er met\npijl en boog op uit te gaan, hadden in de vlakte een groote kudde\nherten aangetroffen en zich z\u00f3\u00f3 goed van hun wapens bediend, dat ze\ner drie schoten. Een der jagers was daarop teruggekomen om hulp te\nhalen voor het wegdragen der zware dieren.\nDaar dit het eerste wild was, dat we tot nu toe op onze voetreis\nontmoet hadden, smulden we er terdege aan en zelfs onze Prins liet zich\noverhalen om zijn vleesch gebraden te eten zooals wij, een voorbeeld,\ndat bij de overige inboorlingen, die het tot nu toe nooit anders dan\nrauw gegeten hadden, navolging vond.\nFeitelijk speet het ons nu, niet meer pijlen en bogen bij ons te\nhebben, want we begonnen onze negers meer en meer te vertrouwen en\nlieten ze voor een groot deel zonder banden rondloopen.\nAlleen al, omdat ze zonder ons den weg niet wisten te vinden, waren\nwe overtuigd, dat ze terug zouden komen. Onze geweren vertrouwden we\nhun evenwel niet toe, en we lieten ze graag in den waan dat er een\nbovennatuurlijke kracht in die wapens stak, die vuur, rook en donder\nte voorschijn riep en wanneer men het hen slechts beval, op groote\nafstanden doodde.\nNa verloop van acht dagen waren er drie kano's klaar, waarin wij\nonze blanke manschappen, onze bagage, den Prins en eenige gevangenen\ninscheepten. Een paar der onzen moesten altijd aan den oever blijven,\nniet alleen om de negers te bewaken, doch ook om hen te verdedigen\ntegen mogelijke aanvallen van wilde dieren.\nOp dezen tocht zagen we voor 't eerst eenige olifanten en leeuwen\nen merkten op, dat de inboorlingen veel meer angst voor deze dieren\nhadden dan wij--waarschijnlijk omdat hun de wapenen ontbraken waarmee\nze gewend waren om te gaan en zich te verdedigen.\nDoor steeds met onze geweren gereed te zijn, genazen we hen echter\nal heel gauw van dien overdreven angst.\nVoordeel van het schieten dezer dieren hadden wij volstrekt niet;\nhet vleesch was ongenietbaar en hun huiden meenemen zou ons slechts\nlast hebben veroorzaakt; dus besloten wij, om onze kostbare munitie\nte sparen, bij eenige onzer geweren enkel wat los kruit op de pan te\ndoen, want de vuurstraal en de slag van het kruit alleen deed hen al\nzoo geweldig schrikken, dat ze--zelfs de leeuwen--onmiddellijk aan\nden haal gingen.\nNaarmate wij den bovenloop der rivier verder volgden, werd de streek\ndichter bewoond; ook vee scheen hier in overvloed te leven, vooral\nin de nabijheid der rivier.\nDen achtsten dag, nadat we onze kanovaart hadden aangevangen kwamen\nwe aan een negerdorp, waar omheen een korenachtig gewas, dat aan\nrijst deed denken, verbouwd werd, 't geen uitstekend smaakte. Na\nwat loven en bieden stonden de inwoners ons wat van dit product af,\nen toen we er een soort van brooden of koeken van gekneed hadden,\nbakten we ze op den grond. Eerst stookten we n.l. een vuurtje,\nveegden de asch weg en roosterden de koeken op de heete aarde. Zoo\nontbrak het ons dus tot nu toe aan niets.\nDaar de negers afwisselend aan de lijn liepen, schoten onze kano's\nvrij snel door 't water; naar onze berekening moesten wij stellig ruim\ntwintig mijlen per dag vorderen. De diepe stroom behield gedurende\ndit traject overal ongeveer dezelfde breedte, tot we den tweeden dag\naan een tweeden waterval kwamen.\nEen hooge bergketen doorkruiste hier de bedding, en het water stortte\nop zoo'n eigenaardige, schilderachtige manier van rots op rots, dat\nzich een lange reeks watervallen vormde die onderling wel eens een\nkwart mijl van elkaar verwijderd lagen. Het geraas was oorverdoovend.\nAanvankelijk vreesden we dat het nu voor goed met het varen gedaan\nzou zijn, maar toen drie van ons met een paar negers een hoogen heuvel\nbeklommen hadden, om den loop der rivier te overzien, brachten ze het\nblijde nieuws, dat er op ongeveer een kwartier afstands weer een glad\nvaarwater begon, dat oogenschijnlijk niet gauw onderbroken zou worden.\nMet frisschen moed sloegen we dus allen de handen aan 't werk om onze\nkano's aan wal te sleepen en te beproeven of we ze konden dragen.\nDat viel lang niet mee, maar gelukkig konden onze timmerlui ze in\nongeveer een dag veel lichter maken door er al het overtollige hout\nvan buiten af te hakken en te steken. Toen dat karwei volbracht was,\nnamen tien negers een der kano's op lange dikke stokken en droegen\nhet vaartuigje zonder eenige zichtbare inspanning weg, na welke\nproefneming we voor elke kano twintig man aanwezen, opdat ze elkaar\nzouden kunnen aflossen.\nOp deze wijze vervoerden we onze kleine vloot, en toen ze hoogerop\nweer te water was gelaten, keerden we terug om onze bagage te halen en\nin te laden, waarna wij den volgenden morgen vroeg de reis hervatten.\nToen we zoo weer een dag of vier verder getrokken waren, merkte onze\nkanonnier, ook tot loods aangesteld, op, dat we eenigszins van de\nrichting afweken die we ons hadden voorgenomen te volgen. De stroom\nbegon namelijk naar 't noorden te buigen.\nMaar we wilden het groote voordeel van een vervoer te water niet\ngaarne opgeven en besloten dus nog een tweehonderd mijlen verder te\nvaren. Hier werd de bedding echter zeer nauw en ondiep en merkten\nwe buitengewoon veel beken en stroompjes op, die zich in de rivier\nontlastten, tot deze zelf niet meer dan een groote beek werd.\nZoover onze kano's varen konden, lieten we ons nog trekken, wat alleen\nmogelijk bleek door alle bagage er uit te halen, maar eindelijk en\nten laatste, na twaalf dagen reizens langs den bovenstroom, moesten\nwe van alle verdere transport te water afzien.\nDat we den tocht nu op zoo'n veel meer inspannende wijze zouden dienen\nvoort te zetten was nog het ergste niet; maar met groote zorg dachten\nwe aan onze zoetwaterprovisie. We beklommen dan ook elken bergtop\ndie onder ons bereik kwam, om te zien welken weg we het best zouden\nkunnen volgen om altijd water bij de hand te hebben.\nGedurende dertig dagen marcheerden we door een vruchtbare, vrij\ndichtbevolkte streek, rijk aan boomen en water en maakten we het ons\nzoo aangenaam mogelijk door te rusten of te loopen, al naarmate we\nlust gevoelden en de lichamelijke toestand van onszelf en onze negers\ndit vereischte.\nOmstreeks het midden van dien tocht, kwamen we aan een kleine\nlaagvlakte, waar zich een opmerkelijk dichte bevolking gevestigd had,\neen onaangename ontdekking, daar het woeste, ruwe, onbetrouwbare\nmenschen bleken te zijn, die ons als roovers beschouwden en\nonmiddellijk bijeenscholen om ons aan te vallen.\nMet angst namen onze negers de vijandelijke houding waar, en zelfs onze\nZwarte Prins legde een ongewone vrees aan den dag, maar ik hield hem\neen onzer geweren voor en vroeg hem glimlachend, of hij niet vertrouwde\ndat het wapen, dat de gevlekte kat op zoo'n grooten afstand doodde,\nin staat zou zijn een heele bende van die naakte wezens met \u00e9\u00e9n schot\nte doen sterven, waarop hij lachte en bevestigend knikte.\n\"Goed,\" zei ik, \"vertel uw mannen dan, dat ze geen angst behoeven\nte hebben. Als dit vreemde volk ons te na komt, zullen we ze laten\ngevoelen wat onze geweren kunnen uitrichten.\"\nOndanks deze grootspraak voelden we ons evenwel zelf ook niet geheel\nop ons gemak. We bevonden ons in een uitgestrekt land en wisten\nnatuurlijk in de verste verte niet, hoe talrijk en gevaarlijk de\nomwonende volksstammen konden zijn. Best mogelijk dat we de hulp\nvan onze naaste omgeving nog eens noodig zouden hebben, en dus leek\nhet ons 't verstandigst onze gevangenen aan te sporen, als 't kon,\nvriendschap te sluiten met de achterdochtige vreemdelingen.\nWe zonden dus de twee mannen die pijlen en bogen hadden en twee die\nwe de mooie lansen van den Zwarten Prins toevertrouwden, op het dorp\naf, met nog vijf onzer gevangenen die lange staken droegen. Op korten\nafstand van hen volgden tien der onzen, terwijl wij ons allen bereid\nhielden om te hulp te snellen, zoodra dit noodig mocht blijken.\nToen ze de hutten naderden, begonnen onze negers, op de bij\nhen gebruikelijke manier, te roepen en te schreeuwen, waarop de\nmannen antwoordden door een tegenroep die onmiddellijk de geheele\nbevolking--mannen, vrouwen en kinderen--op de been bracht. Daarop\ntraden onze negers nog wat verder naar voren, om hun staken in\nden grond te planten, ten teeken van vredelievendheid, doch de\nvreemde volksstam scheen dit symbool niet te verstaan. Ten slotte\nlegden de boogdragers dit wapen neer en begonnen ze verschillende\nvredesteekenen te maken, die de dorpelingen eindelijk schenen\nte begrijpen. Twee van hen ten minste legden ook hun bogen af en\nkwamen nader. Op alle denkbare manieren trachten de onzen nu hun\nvriendschappelijke gezindheid te uiten, en ten slotte brachten ze\nook de handen aan den mond om hen te beduiden dat we voedsel noodig\nhadden, waarop de onderhandelaars met vriendelijke gebaren naar hun\nmakkers terugkeerden. Na eenig druk heen en weer gepraat kwamen ze\nterug om ons kenbaar te maken, dat ze ons nog voor zonsondergang\nmondkost zouden bezorgen.\nEen uur voor zonsondergang stelden de onzen zich weer in dezelfde\nvolgorde op om de beloofde eetwaren: wild, wortelen en de reeds\nbesproken rijstsoort in ontvangst te nemen. Uit erkentelijkheid boden\nwe hun eenige van onze ijzeren snuisterijen aan, waarover ze niet\nminder verheugd schenen dan de zwarten van andere stammen.\nDen volgenden dag verschenen ze opnieuw, doch nu in veel sterker\naantal. We bekommerden ons hier echter niet veel om, daar tien man\nmet geladen geweer gereed stonden, en onze heele troep hen naar wij\nmeenden eerbied zou inboezemen; maar ons vertrouwen bleek te groot\nte zijn geweest. Nauwelijks zagen ze onze gevangenen naderen tot aan\nde plek waarop ze den vorigen dag onderhandeld hadden, of ze grepen\npijl en boog en stormden als ware furien op hen aan. Op bevel onzer\nschutters zochten onze zwartjes beveiliging achter de gewapende\nmacht. Terwijl zij vluchtten, schoten de vijanden wel een honderd\npijlen op hen af, waardoor twee onzer negers gewond werden en een\nvoor dood bleef liggen. Bij de staken gekomen, die onze gezanten in\nden grond hadden geplant, bleven ze staan, bekeken en betastten de\nvoorwerpen en schenen maar niet te begrijpen wat ze beteekenden. Nu\nzonden we uit onze achterhoede bericht naar de tien voorste gewapenden\nmet bevel te schieten en de gewone lading nog met een partijtje\nschroot te versterken, waarna wij ons zoo snel mogelijk bij hen zouden\nvoegen. Op dit oogenblik zette zich het zwarte leger in beweging. Toen\nde aanvallers evenwel achter de nu veilig opgestelde negers nog een\ntroep gewapende blanken ontdekten, aarzelden ze, niet wetende wat ze\nvan ons maken moesten, en stellig nam hun verwondering niet weinig toe,\ntoen ze onze mannen op een dichten drom der hunnen zagen aanleggen en\nons salvo op een afstand van ongeveer honderd twintig meter losbrandde.\n't Is onmogelijk den schrik en het afschuwelijke geschreeuw te\nbeschrijven, dat op ons schieten volgde. Zes onzer aanvallers stortten\ndood neer, terwijl wij een dozijn gewonden telden. De niet-gewonden\nstonden verbaasd over de uitwerking van onze geheimzinnige wapens\nen konden maar niet begrijpen waardoor ze gedood waren, terwijl\nde vuurstraal en het knallen hun vrouwen en kinderen z\u00f3\u00f3 buiten\nbezinning hadden gebracht, dat deze als een troep krankzinnigen weg\nliepen. Doch met dat al hadden we ons doel: de mannen op de vlucht te\njagen, niet bereikt. Zij schenen ook geen van allen door den schrik\ngestorven te zijn zooals we onder andere negers hadden waargenomen,\nen dus besloten we een tweede salvo af te vuren en daarna op hen los te\ntrekken. Inmiddels hadden we ook onze reserve laten naderen en spraken\nwe af, slechts drie aan drie te schieten en in peletons vooruit\nte rukken. Allen op \u00e9\u00e9n linie staande, vuurden we nu beurtelings\ndrie van rechts en drie van links, waarbij we telkens eenige onzer\nvijanden doodden, zonder hen echter tot vluchten te dwingen, hoewel\nze zoo verschrikt waren, dat ze vergaten van hun eigen wapens gebruik\nte maken. Hun aantal scheen wel voortdurend aan te groeien, en dus\nriep ik onze mannen toe halt te houden, nog eens een salvo te lossen,\ndaarna, evenals bij ons eerste gevecht, onder woest krijgsgeschreeuw\nop hen los te stormen en ze desnoods met onze geweerkolven af te maken.\nMaar ze waren te slim om het zoover te laten komen. Zoodra wij gevuurd\nhadden en onze krijgskreten aanhieven, nam de gansche bende overijld\nde vlucht. In minder dan geen tijd was er geen enkele vijand meer te\nzien, behalve dan de enkele gewonden, die zich kermend trachtten op\nte richten en hun makkers maar al te graag gevolgd waren.\nHOOFDSTUK VI.\nDE WOESTIJNTOCHT.\nToen we het gevechtsterrein inspecteerden, zagen we dat we\nzeven-en-dertig zwarten gedood hadden, waaronder drie vrouwen, en\nomstreeks vier-en-zestig zoo zwaar gewond, dat ze zich niet van de\nplaats konden verroeren. Met onmenschelijke koelbloedigheid maakten\nonze negers hen achter onzen rug af; een lafhartige daad, waarover\nwe zoo verontwaardigd waren, dat we hen met hetzelfde lot dreigden\nindien wij er hen ooit weer op mochten betrappen.\nBuit viel er bij de gevallenen niet veel te halen; sommige hadden\nveeren in 't haar en andere droegen een soort van halsband als sieraad,\ndat was alles; maar toch vonden onze negers hier wel iets van hun\ngading, waarmee ook wij heel blij waren, n.l. de pijlen en bogen\nder gesneuvelden en gewonden, waarvan ze er zooveel bijeenbrachten,\ndat we niet wisten wat er mee aan te vangen. Evenwel lieten we hen\nalles bewaren, van oordeel, dat ze ons later te pas konden komen.\nNa het gevecht zonden we er onze, nu gewapende gevangenen in troepjes\nop uit om te zien of ze iets eetbaars schieten konden, maar ze brachten\nons iets beters mee, namelijk nog vier jonge stieren of buffels,\ngedresseerd om lasten te dragen. Blijkbaar hadden ze de dieren aan\nhet eelt op hun ruggen herkend, want iets wat naar een zadel geleek,\nwas in de streek niet gebruikelijk.\nDe buffels verschaften onze gevangenen niet alleen groote verlichting\nmaar stelden ons ook in de gelegenheid meer proviand mee te nemen. Onze\nnegers belaadden ze dan ook zwaar met vleesch en wortels, waaraan we\nlater misschien gebrek zouden kunnen krijgen.\nIn dit negerdorp vonden we een aardig klein luipaardje, nog geen halve\nmeter hoog, dat buitengewoon tam bleek en als een kat spon wanneer\nwe het streelden. Blijkbaar hadden de negers het geheel als huisdier\nbehandeld. Bij het doorzoeken der verlaten hutten vond onze Prins het\nbeestje, en nadat hij het telkens had aangehaald en toegesproken en\neen paar stukjes vleesch gevoerd, volgde het hem als een hond.\nOnder de negers die in 't gevecht gedood werden, was er ook een die\neen goudstukje ter groote van een halven gulden aan een gedraaiden\ndarm om den hals droeg, waaruit wij afleidden dat hij een hoogen rang\nbekleed moest hebben. Ook bracht het sieraad ons op het denkbeeld te\ngaan zoeken of ze soms nog meer goud bezaten, maar we vonden nergens\niets meer van dat edele metaal.\nVan hier trokken we omstreeks vijftien dagen lang verder het land in,\ntot we op een ontzaglijk hoogen bergketen stuitten, en daar we geen\nanderen wegwijzer bezaten dan ons kleine zakkompas, hadden we geen\nflauw idee wat de beste richting voor ons zou wezen en moesten we\nmaar hopen dat het geluk ons zou dienen.\nEer we die bergen bereikten, ontmoetten we nog verscheiden wilde\nstammen, welke ons allen vrij wat zachter en vriendschappelijker\ntegemoet kwamen dan die waartegen we ons pas hadden moeten\nverdedigen. Met moeite werden we uit hun mededeelingen in zooverre\nwijs, dat zich achter den bergketen een groote woestijn moest\nuitstrekken, \"met veel leeuw en veel gevlekte kat\" (luipaarden),\nzooals onze negers het uitdrukten. Ook beduidden ze ons vooral water\nmee te nemen.\nBij de laatste nederzetting gekomen, voorzagen we ons van zooveel\nproviand als de negers en buffels maar eenigszins torsen konden,\nen stelde ik voor, om ons ten minste eenige zekerheid omtrent den te\nvolgen weg te verschaffen, uit de laatste hutten die we aantroffen\neenige bewoners gevangen te nemen om hen tot gidsen in de woestijn\nen tot het helpen dragen van den mondkost te gebruiken. Deze raad\nwas te aannemelijk om in den wind te worden geslagen, en toen we van\nde vreemde neger stam begrepen, dat er aan de andere zijde van 't\ngebergte, eer we aan de eigenlijke woestijn kwamen, ook nog menschen\nwoonden, besloten we ons daar goedschiks of kwaadschiks van gidsen\nte voorzien.\nVolgens een matige schatting moesten we ons omstreeks zevenhonderd\nmijlen van de kust bevinden, en met mannenmoed begonnen we den berg\nv\u00f3\u00f3r ons te bestijgen. Toen we na een ontzaglijke inspanning den\ntop bereikten en het land voor ons over een groote uitgestrektheid\nkonden overzien, zonk het hart den meesten van ons echter in de\nschoenen. Geen boom, geen beek, geen struik, zoover het oog reikte;\nniets dan dor, gloeiend zand, dat, wanneer de wind even opstak, in\ndichte wolken werd opgejaagd en mensch en dier dreigde te verstikken\nen te bedelven. Nergens was een einde, een begrenzing der zandzee\nte zien. Geen wonder dat het onze mannen beklemd te moede werd en\nze van terugkeeren begonnen te reppen. Wij vroegen ons af, of we ons\nwel over zulk een afschrikwekkend terrein mochten begeven, waar niets\ndan een wisse dood ons scheen te wachten.\nHoewel ik, wat mezelf betreft, niet minder ontsteld was bij 't\nvooruitzicht dan mijn kameraden, kon ik de gedachte onverrichterzake\nterug te keeren toch niet verdragen. \"De zevenhonderd mijlen die wij\nachter ons hebben, zouden dan te vergeefs zijn afgelegd,\" zei ik,\n\"en de terugtocht lijkt mij erger dan de dood. Ik stel voor ons plan\ndoor te zetten, en blijkt het onmogelijk de woestijn over te steken,\nwelnu dan kunnen we immers nog naar Kaap de Goede Hoop trachten te\nkomen of in noordelijke richting in het Nijlgebied. Misschien vinden\nwe ook hier of daar nog een weg naar het westen; heel Afrika zal toch\nwel geen woestijn zijn!\"\nOnze kanonnier, bij 't kiezen van een richting altijd onze autoriteit,\nzette, toen we zijn meening vroegen, een ernstig gezicht en antwoordde\nten slotte: \"Ik durf niet aan te raden naar de Kaap te trekken,\nomdat de afstand zoo ontzettend groot is; zeker niet minder dan\nvijftienhonderd mijlen. Naar mijn berekening bevinden we ons nu\nop een derde van den afstand naar de kust van Angola. Als je de\nkaart raadpleegt, kun je zien dat we, naar mate we noordelijker\nkomen, oneindig grooter afstand tot aan de westkust zouden moeten\nafleggen, door een streek die waarschijnlijk niet beter is dan deze\nwoestijn. Daarom zou ik zeggen: laten we in westelijke richting\nvoortgaan tot we de helft van ons water en onze proviand verbruikt\nhebben. Zien we dan geen uitkomst, dan kunnen we altijd nog, zonder\ngebrek te lijden, terugkeeren.\"\nDie raad leek ons zoo verstandig, dat we met algemeene stemmen besloten\nhem te volgen. We berekenden dat we omstreeks twee-en-veertig dagen\nvoedsel zouden kunnen meenemen, doch voor niet meer dan twintig\ndagen water, 't geen buitendien reeds voor dien tijd onbruikbaar zou\nzijn, waarop we besloten terug te keeren, wanneer we na een dag of\ntien geen beek of riviertje hadden aangetroffen. Vonden we evenwel\ndrinkwater, dan zouden we een-en-twintig dagen kunnen doorreizen\nen eerst daarna--wanneer we ten minste geen einde aan de woestijn\nzagen--den terugtocht overwegen.\nNa deze afspraak daalden we van den bergrug af naar de laagvlakte die\nwe pas den tweeden dag bereikten, maar waarin we een heldere, breede\nbeek, overvloed van groot wild en een soort van haas vonden, niet zoo\nvlug, maar even goed van smaak als de ons uit Europa bekende. Een\nteleurstelling was echter dat we geen bewoners ontmoetten en dus\ngeen gevangenen konden maken om onze bepakking te helpen dragen of\nals wegwijzers dienst te doen.\nNadat we ons ruimschoots van allerlei leeftocht voorzien hadden,\naanvaardden we, gezond als we allen gelukkig waren, met vertrouwen\nde groote reis; maar onmiddellijk bij 't betreden der eigenlijke\nwoestijn, begon onze moed al te zinken, want het zand was zoo diep en\ndoor de hitte zoo pijnlijk aan de voeten, dat we ons na een marsch,\nof liever na een doorwaden van een mijl of acht, al totaal uitgeput\ngevoelden. Zelfs de negers vielen hijgend neer als dieren die zich\nboven hun krachten hebben ingespannen.\nWeldra maakten we kennis met nog meer moeilijkheden aan een verblijf\nin de woestijn verbonden. Tot nu toe hadden we ons 's nachts altijd\nhutten gebouwd om ons tegen de nadeelige nachtlucht in de tropen te\nbeschutten, maar hier vonden we na dien afmattenden tocht nergens\neenig onderkomen. Er was geen boom, geen struikje zelfs te zien,\nen toen we tegen den nacht van alle kanten het gehuil van wolven\nen hyena's, het gebrul van leeuwen en het balken van tallooze wilde\nezels hoorden, kwam er van rusten zoo goed als niets.\nGe\u00ebrgerd over onze domheid, verweten we onszelf dat we geen palen en\nstokken hadden meegenomen om, hoe gebrekkig misschien ook, toch een\nsoort van palissadenhut te kunnen bouwen. Eindelijk kwamen we op het\ndenkbeeld onze lansen en bogen in den grond te planten, de boveneinden\nzoo dicht mogelijk naar elkaar toe te buigen, deze met onze jassen\nte behangen en eenige huiden op het zand uit te spreiden. Op deze\nwijze richtten we ons een soort van tent in, waarin we uitstekend\nsliepen. Natuurlijk zorgden we voor een goed gewapende wacht,--waarbij\nwe elkaar twee aan twee aflosten--een zeker niet overbodige voorzorg,\ndaar de woestijn vol wilde dieren van allerlei soort bleek te zijn\ndie soms tot vlak bij onze legerplaats kwamen.\nOnze schildwachts hadden bevel gekregen ons niet met schieten te\nwekken, maar het kruit op de pan af te branden, wat de dieren evengoed\nop de vlucht joeg.\nHoewel we afwisselend geslapen hadden, voelden we ons 's morgens\nniet veel minder vermoeid van den nacht dan den vorigen avond van\nden inspannenden dagmarsch, en onze Zwarte Prins waarschuwde ons,\ndat we zonder behoorlijk nachtlogies allen zouden omkomen. Op zijn\naanraden (hij begon zich al eenigszins in onze taal uit te drukken),\ntrokken we weer terug naar de groote beek die ons van water voor de\nwoestijnreis voorzien had, om ons daar een aantal biezen matten te\nvlechten zooals we de inlanders hadden zien doen.\nOp dezen terugtocht, waarover eenigen van ons twee dagen werkten,\ndeden de achterblijvers een eigenaardige ervaring op, die hen voor\n't vervolg wel wat angstiger maakte zich af te scheiden.\n's Morgens van den tweeden dag namelijk, toen ze nog geen mijl hadden\nafgelegd, zagen ze achter zich een geweldige zandwolk opstijgen,\nongeveer zooals wij 's zomers wel eens op een stoffigen landweg zien,\nwanneer er een kudde koeien wordt voortgedreven. Doch deze wolk was\noneindig grooter en dichter, en ze konden duidelijk waarnemen, dat\nhet opgejaagde zand hen naderde, en wel veel sneller dan zij uit de\nvoeten konden komen.\nHun eerste vermoeden was, dat er een vijandelijk leger in aantocht\nmoest zijn, maar bij eenig nadenken zagen ze de onwaarschijnlijkheid\nhiervan in. Hoe zou de een of andere volksstam van onze voorgenomen\ntocht iets kunnen afweten en nog wel uit de onbewoonbare woestijn\nachter hen? Mocht het dus een leger zijn--paarden waren er in die\nstreek niet--dan moest het toevallig in dezelfde richting trekken. Maar\nmisschien waren het wel wilde beesten! Inmiddels naderde de zandwolk\nmet dreigende snelheid, en in doodsangst, verscheurd of onder den voet\nte worden geloopen, besloten ze te probeeren om door verandering van\nrichting aan dit gevaar te ontkomen. Toen ze ongeveer een minuut of\nvijf naar het noorden waren afgeslagen, hielden ze halt om te zien\nwat het verschijnsel veroorzaakt had. Hiertoe werd een der lichtste\nen lenigste negers er op afgestuurd, en gauwer dan ze gedacht hadden\nkwam hij door 't mulle zand teruggeloopen, door teekens en geluiden\nte kennen gevende dat het een groote kudde olifanten was.\nNieuwsgierig zoo'n ongewoon schouwspel te zien, wilden onze mannen\ner op afgaan en bekroop onzen kanonnier, die bij dit troepje was\nachtergebleven, de lust eens te beproeven of de dikhuiden werkelijk\nvoor kogels ondoordringbaar waren; maar ze trachtten hem allen van\ndit voornemen af te brengen, uit vrees dat de dieren, verschrikt\ndoor het ongewone geluid, op ons zouden afstormen, daar zij zich,\nhoe log ook in hun bewegingen, verwonderlijk gauw door het mulle zand\nkunnen voortbewegen.\nHet waren ontzaglijk groote beesten, twintig \u00e0 dertig in aantal, en\nofschoon ze bewijzen gaven onze mannen heel goed te zien, weken ze toch\nniet uit de richting. Wij die de voorhoede vormden, merkten de stofwolk\nook wel op, zij het ook op zeer grooten afstand, maar meenden dat het\nonze eigen karavaan was en namen er dus verder geen notitie van. Eerst\n's avonds deden onze makkers ons 't verhaal van hun ervaring, waaruit\nwe leering putten voor ons verdere gedrag tijdens den woestijntocht.\nZoo gauw mogelijk vingen we onzen arbeid aan, waarbij onze Zwarte\nPrins, die het handwerk uitstekend verstond, de leiding op zich\nnam. Al zijn onderhoorigen konden trouwens matten vlechten, zoodat\nwe er in korten tijd een honderdtal klaar hadden, waarvan iedere\nneger er zonder moeite een bij zijn gewone vracht droeg. Meer bezwaar\nleverden eerst de palen en stokken op, tot een der inboorlingen op het\ndenkbeeld kwam, ze tusschen hen in op de schouders te dragen, een aan\n't v\u00f3\u00f3r en een aan 't achtereinde en er allerlei bagage aan te hangen.\nZoodra wij dit zagen trokken wij er nog het voordeel van om elk paar\nlattendragers bovendien met een waterzak te belasten, waardoor we\nvoor meer dan een dagreis extra water konden meenemen.\nNa een onderbreking van acht dagen, zetten we ons weer in beweging. Tot\nonze groote blijdschap viel er den nacht voor ons vertrek geweldig\nveel regen, waarvan we de uitwerking dadelijk aan het zand konden\nwaarnemen. Wel was de oppervlakte weer gauw even droog als te voren,\nmaar de ondergrond bleek steviger, vaster geworden en onze voeten\nwerden niet zoo brandend heet, zoodat we dien dag zonder inspanning\nongeveer veertien, in plaats van zeven mijlen aflegden.\nToen het tot kampeeren kwam, hadden we ons nachtverblijf ook spoedig in\norde, dank zij een vooroefening, aan de beek gehouden. In minder dan\neen uur was de uit twee ruimten bestaande tent kant en klaar. In de\nbinnenste lagen wij, in de buitenste onze negers, allen op matten en\nmet hetzelfde materiaal toegedekt. Ook hadden we een kleine omheinde\nruimte afgepaald voor onze buffels die ons zulke uitstekende diensten\nbewezen en ons niets geen last bezorgden, daar ze een soort van\nwitte peen of pastinak aten, die we overal--behalve natuurlijk in\ndie verschrikkelijke woestijn--overvloedig aantroffen.\nDen volgenden morgen braken onze negers de tent weer af, en in minder\ntijd dan het opstellen gekost had, stonden we allen weer marschvaardig.\nZoo trokken we acht dagen verder, zonder iets te zien wat op het einde\nder woestijn wees; alles bleef even woest en kaal als in 't begin,\nalleen was het zand niet meer zoo mul en diep als de drie eerste\ndagen. Naar ons idee vond dit zijn oorzaak in de omstandigheid, dat\nde wind, die hier zes maanden van 't jaar uit het westen blaast, het\nzand voortdurend naar dat gedeelte der woestijn had opgestuwd waar\nwij onze reis aanvingen, terwijl de oostmoesson in de andere helft\nvan 't jaar door de hooge bergen in 't oosten verhinderd werd het\nzand met dezelfde kracht terug te drijven. En deze veronderstelling\nwerd bevestigd toen we aan de uiterste westgrens der woestijn weer\ndezelfde dikke zandlaag te doorwaden kregen.\nOp den negenden dag van onzen woestijntocht kwamen we aan een\nuitgestrekt meer, een gezicht dat ons allen met de grootste vreugde\nvervulde, want we hadden nog maar voor drie dagen water, behalve dan\nhet allernoodzakelijkste voor een mogelijken terugkeer. Toch had het\ntwee dagen langer gestrekt dan we hadden durven hopen, doordat onze\nbuffels de laatste dagen een soort van doornloozen distel ontdekt\nhadden, die hun zoowel tot eten als tot drinken diende.\nDen volgenden dag bereikten we den oever van dit meer, en gelukkig\nden zuidelijken, want in noordelijke richting was er geen einde aan te\nzien. Gedurende drie dagen marcheerden we langs den rand en behoefden\nwe dus--een groote verlichting--geen water mee te sleepen. Vreemd\ngenoeg verloor de woestijn ondanks die groote uitgestrektheid water,\nniets van zijn dor, onvruchtbaar karakter.\nOp voorstel van den kanonnier besloten we hier aan het meer een\nbehoorlijke rust te nemen, wat ons na een veertiendaagsche onafgebroken\nreis ook wel toekwam, en te trachten wat eetbare visch te vangen. Met\nbehulp van eenige vischhaken, die onze smid weer wist te fabriceeren,\nlukte ons dit uitstekend. Niet alleen vingen we er meer dan genoeg\nvoor onze onmiddellijke behoefte, maar we droogden er ook een massa,\ndie we voor onze verdere reis bestemden.\nOngeveer vijf dagen rustten we aan deze koeltebrengende watervlakte\nuit, in welken tijd we ontelbare interessante avonturen met allerlei\nwilde dieren beleefden, o.a. een wedloop tusschen een leeuwin en een\nsoort van groot hert of antilope. Met een voorsprong van ongeveer\ndriehonderd meter, vloog de antilope ons als de wind voorbij, maar\nwe merkten al heel gauw op dat de leeuwin, dank zij haar geweldige\nspierkracht en sterke longen, het snelvoetige dier begon in te\nhalen. Op ongeveer drie minuten afstands renden ze langs ons heen,\nen het duurde geruimen tijd eer ze uit ons gezicht verdwenen. Tot\nonze groote verbazing kwamen ze evenwel, na een uur ongeveer,\nvan den anderen kant op ons afgestormd; de leeuwin nu slechts\neen twintig \u00e0 dertig meter van de antilope verwijderd. Ademloos\nvolgden we de opwindende jacht, waarbij beide dieren een geweldige\nkrachtsinspanning aan den dag legden. Bij het meer gekomen, deed het\nhert in zijn wanhoop een sprong in het water en begon voor zijn leven\nte zwemmen zooals het er tot nu toe voor geloopen had.\nDe leeuwin sprong het na, maar keerde al heel gauw terug en hief, weer\naan land gekomen, in haar teleurstelling zoo'n vervaarlijk gebrul aan,\ndat het sommigen van ons deed beven.\n's Morgens maakten we kleine tochtjes, vischten of gingen ter jacht,\nmaar op 't heetst van den dag kropen we in onze tenten.\nOp zekeren morgen waren we getuige van een andere vervolging, die\nons meer van nabij raakte dan de eerste. Onze Zwarte Prins namelijk\nwerd, rustig langs het meer loopende, plotseling aangevallen door een\nkrokodil, en hoe vlug ook in zijn bewegingen, wist onze vriend maar\nnauwelijks te ontkomen en hulp bij ons te zoeken. Goede raad was duur;\nde negers hadden ons meer dan eens verzekerd dat een kogel niet door\neen krokodillenhuid heendrong, en dit scheen ook werkelijk het geval\nte wezen, want hoewel drie onzer mannen op het monster vuurden, trok\ndit er zich niets van aan. Onze kanonnier evenwel, een dappere kerel,\naltijd bereid tot een kloeke daad, trad nu z\u00f3\u00f3 dicht op den vijand toe,\ndat hij hem den mond van 't geweer in den muil kon steken en vuurde\ntoen, waarna hij echter zijn vuurroer in den steek liet en aan den haal\nging. Het ondier ging geweldig te keer en koelde zijn woede aan het\nwapen, den loop met zijn tanden plat bijtende. Na eenigen tijd zagen we\nhem echter zwakker en rustiger worden, tot hij eindelijk den geest gaf.\nGedurende ons oponthoud aan het meer zwierven onze negers in den\nomtrek rond om wild te bemachtigen en brachten ze ons ten slotte drie\nantilopen aan, een van de drie buitengewoon groot, de beide andere\nheel klein.\nHet eenige pluimvee dat we op onzen woestijntocht ontmoetten waren\nverschillende, watervogels die we op het meer zagen, maar ze kwamen\nnooit genoeg in onze nabijheid om ze onder schot te kunnen krijgen.\nWel doodden we een paar civetkatten, doch hun vleesch was oneetbaar,\ndoor den sterken muskussmaak. Olifanten zagen we bij massa's op een\nafstand, en het trof ons dat die geweldige dieren altijd in groote\ntroepen voorttrekken, alles wat hun in den weg komt, onder den voet\nloopende of met hun snuit in de lucht slingerend. Hoe log gebouwd\nook, weet deze sterke planteneter toch zoo behendig met zijn slurf\nom te gaan, dat hij er een leeuw of ander wild dier mee opneemt,\nop den grond smakt en dan met zijn zware pooten dood trapt.\nDat deze reusachtige viervoeters in groote getale in Afrika moesten\nvoorkomen, bleek wel uit het ongelooflijk groote aantal olifantstanden\ndat wij in de woestijn aantroffen.\nOp zekeren avond--de meesten van ons lagen al op hun matten te\nslapen--kwamen onze schildwachts aangerend, verschrikt door het\ngebrul van eenige leeuwen, die blijkbaar al vlak in hun nabijheid\nwaren, hoewel ze de dieren in de duisternis niet gezien hadden. Bij\nnader onderzoek bleek het een volledige leeuwenfamilie te zijn: een\noude leeuw, een leeuwin en drie al tamelijk groote jongen. Een dezer\njongen was onverhoeds op een der op post staande negers aangevallen,\ndie doodelijk ontsteld naar onze hutten snelde. De tweede schildwacht,\nmet een geweer gewapend, had geen tegenwoordigheid van geest genoeg om\nhet dier dood te schieten, maar bracht het met den kolf een slag toe\ndie het jong eerst deed huilen en toen dreigend grommen. Drie der onzen\ngrepen hun geweren en vlogen naar de tentdeur, waar we onmiddellijk\nden grooten leeuwenkoning onderscheidden door het vuur dat uit zijn\noogen straalde. Ze schoten, maar troffen het dier niet--tenminste niet\ndoodelijk, want alle vijf draafden weg, onder een gebrul dat--alsof\nze om hulp hadden geroepen--van alle kanten beantwoord werd. Deze\nhuilende, jankende, schreeuwende woestijnmuziek gaf ons een gevoel\nalsof de verscheurende dieren van heel Afrika op onze legerplaats\nlosstormden om ons te verslinden.\nIn onzen angst vroegen we onzen Zwarten Prins wat wij toch beginnen\nmoesten. \"Mij gaan en allemaal bang maak,\" zei hij in zijn gebroken\ntaaltje, en meteen greep hij twee van onze slechtste matten van den\ngrond. Daarop beval hij een paar negers vuur te slaan, hing een der\nmatten aan een staak en stak dien, toen de mat flink vlamde, omhoog,\nwaarop de gansche bende ondieren de vlucht nam.\n\"Als dat helpen kan,\" zei toen onze kanonnier, \"behoeven we onze matten\nniet te verbranden; die kunnen ons betere diensten bewijzen. Wacht,\nmaats!\" En nadat hij een heelen tijd in onze tent bezig was geweest,\nkwam hij te voorschijn met een paar eenvoudige stukken vuurwerk,\nwaarvan de schildwachts er elk een kregen om zoo noodig dadelijk te\nkunnen gebruiken. Daarna maakte hij een vuurrad vast aan denzelfden\nstaak, waaraan eerst de mat was vastgebonden geweest en liet dit\nzoolang branden tot er van de lastige bezoekers niets meer te hooren\nof te zien was.\nDe groote kans op hun terugkomst deed ons evenwel besluiten twee\ndagen eerder op te breken dan we aanvankelijk van plan waren geweest,\nen verder trekkende vonden we--al was het einde der woestijn ook nog\nsteeds niet te zien--voldoende groen voor ons vee. Ook ontmoetten we\nverschillende riviertjes, die blijkbaar allen in het meer uitmondden,\nzoodat het ons in de lagere gedeelten nergens aan water ontbrak. Na\nnog zestien dagen reizens begon het terrein wat te stijgen en vulden\nwe voorzichtigheidshalve onze waterzakken. Het stijgen hield drie\ndagen onafgebroken aan, waarna we plotseling tot de ontdekking kwamen,\ndat we, bijna onmerkbaar, den top van een bergketen beklommen hadden.\nHOOFDSTUK VII.\nAAN DE GOUDRIVIER.\nTot onze groote vreugde bewees het ruime uitzicht boven van den top,\ndat we het einde der woestijn hadden bereikt. De geheele streek\nv\u00f3\u00f3r ons was bedekt met frisch groen, een overvloed van boomen en\neen breede rivier, en we twijfelden er niet aan of we zouden er ook\nwel menschen en vee vinden. Onze kanonnier rekende uit dat we in de\nvier-en-dertig dagen die we in dit vreeselijk oord hadden doorgebracht,\nomstreeks vier honderd mijlen moesten hebben afgelegd, terwijl onze\ngeheele tocht te land ongeveer elf honderd mijlen had bedragen.\nHoe graag zouden we nog dienzelfden avond in het dal zijn afgedaald,\nmaar het was te laat. Den volgenden morgen zagen we alles duidelijker\nen strekten we ons heerlijk uit in de schaduw van een paar\nboomen. Nadat we ons een maand lang hadden moeten laten verzengen,\nwas zoo'n koel bladerdak een weldadige verkwikking. Ook vonden we\nhier allerlei wild, onder anderen een soort van geit en een overvloed\nvan vogels, die aan patrijzen deden denken, maar niet zoo groot noch\nzoo schoon waren. 't Bleek hier dus een waar paradijs na al 't geen\nwe achter ons hadden. Bewoners troffen we tot onze verwondering\nniet aan, en als om onze blijde stemming eenigszins te kalmeeren,\nhoorden we bijna elken nacht het brullen en huilen van leeuwen en\ntijgers. Olifanten schenen hier niet meer voor te komen.\nNa een marsch van nog drie dagen bereikten we een rivier, die we\nvan de berghoogte al gezien hadden en Goudrivier doopten. Ze had een\nbuitengewoon sterk verval en liep in noordelijke richting, en onze\nkanonnier die onmiddellijk zijn kaart te voorschijn haalde, verzekerde\nmij, dat het \u00f3f de Nijl moest wezen, \u00f3f een der rivieren die in het\ngroote meer uitloopt waarin naar men zegt de Nijl ontspringt.\n\"Als het werkelijk de Nijl is,\" meende mijn vriend verder, \"wat\nverhindert ons dan om zooveel kano's te maken als we noodig hebben en\nons den stroom te laten afzakken. 't Lijkt mij toch in ieder geval\nveel beter dan om ons weer aan zoo'n verschroeiende hitte bloot te\nstellen, en ten slotte een kust te bereiken vanwaar we misschien even\nweinig kans hebben ons land te bereiken als van Madagaskar.\"\nDit leek nu wel heel waar en mooi, maar er kwamen toch bezwaren bij\nsommigen van ons op, die niemand goed wist te weerleggen. Vooral onze\nchirurgijn beschouwde het plan als onuitvoerbaar. Hij verstond wel\nniet veel van de zeevaart, maar had veel en met oordeel gelezen.\n\"Voor zoover ik me herinner,\" zei hij, \"moet de afstand door\nal de krommingen van de rivier wel ongeveer vier duizend mijlen\nbedragen. Verder vrees ik dat we al heel weinig kans hebben aan\nde krokodillen te ontkomen en moeten we rekening houden met het\nnaderende regenseizoen. Door het zwellen van de rivier overstroomt de\nomliggende streek dan over zoo'n grooten afstand, dat we niet zullen\nweten of we in de bedding van de Nijl zijn of niet. Onze kano's zouden\nwis en zeker afdrijven, omkantelen of telkens aan den grond raken,\n't lijkt mij dus een hachelijke onderneming zoo'n rivier te bevaren.\"\nVan dit laatste bezwaar wist hij ons zoo te overtuigen, dat we besloten\nhet plan op te geven en naar 't westen verder te koersen. Maar eerst\nwilden we nog twee dagen voor ons genoegen aan de rivier blijven.\nGedurende dit oponthoud dwaalde onze Zwarte Prins dikwijls in zijn\neentje rond, en den tweeden avond bracht hij verscheiden stukjes\nvan een mineraal mee, dat hem onbekend was, zwaar woog en er in zijn\noogen zoo mooi uitzag, dat hij 't mij als een rariteit liet zien.\nIk deed alsof ik niets geen bizondere waarde aan zijn vondst hechtte,\nmaar liet de stukjes even later aan den kanonnier zien om hem te vragen\nof hij het mineraal niet voor goud hield. Daar hij het geheel met mij\neens was, spraken we af, den volgenden dag den Prins mee te nemen en\nons de plaats te laten wijzen waar hij het ontdekt had. Mocht er v\u00e9\u00e9l\nte vinden zijn, dan zouden we de anderen in het buitenkansje laten\ndeelen, maar bleef het bij een paar kleine stukjes, dan waren we van\nplan er niet van te reppen en het voordeeltje voor ons zelf te houden.\nDom genoeg, vergaten we evenwel den Prins in ons vertrouwen te\nnemen, en in zijn onschuld praatte hij zooveel tegen de anderen over\nhet gevondene, dat ze allen gisten wat het wezen moest en kwamen\nkijken. Geheel open kaart spelen was dus verder 't beste, en toen ook\nonze fijnsmid het gevonden metaal voor goud verklaarde, stelde ik voor,\nallen met onzen Prins naar de vindplaats te gaan en te oordeelen of het\nde moeite zou loonen ons nog eenige dagen aan de rivier op te houden.\nZooals wel van zelf sprak wilde iedereen van de partij zijn, en vol\nverwachting volgden we allen den Prins naar een plek aan den westoever\nder rivier, waar een zijtak in den hoofdstroom uitmondde. Nadat we\neen oogenblik het rivierzand omgewoeld en elk een paar handenvol\nschoongespoeld hadden, hielden de meesten van ons eenige korrels\ngoud over, meestal niet grooter dan speldeknoppen, maar soms ook\nwel eens als druivenpitten. Na op deze wijze een uur of drie bezig\nte zijn geweest, had ieder van ons een klein hoopje bijeengebracht,\nwaarop wij besloten het er voor 't oogenblik bij te laten en eerst\nte gaan middageten.\nOnder den maaltijd kwam de gedachte bij mij op of er geen groote kans\nbestond, dat juist het goud waaraan we zoo groote waarde hechtten,\nons ongeluk zou kunnen worden door onderlinge afgunst te wekken en\nde goede verstandhouding te verstoren.\n\"Ik ben wel de jongste van ons heele gezelschap,\" begon ik, besloten\nuit te spreken wat er in mij omging, \"maar jullie hebt al dikwijls\nnaar mijn meening gevraagd en die ook soms opgevolgd, dus durf ik wel\neen voorstel te doen, waaraan jullie, naar ik denk, je goedkeuring\nzult hechten. We zijn hier nu in een streek aangeland waarheen de\nheele wereld schepen zend om er goud te halen. Of we gelukkig zullen\nzijn bij ons zoeken, is niet vooruit te zeggen. Daarom zou ik willen\nvoorstellen, al wat we vinden bij elkaar te voegen en later eerlijk\nte verdeelen, om geen gevaar te loopen de vriendschap en eendracht\ntusschen ons te verbreken, die in onze omstandigheid meer waard is\ndan alle schatten ter wereld. Bij gelijke verdeeling van den buit\nzal ieder van ons stellig ijverig werken en kan er geen nijd of twist\ntusschen ons ontstaan.\"\nMijn voorslag vond algemeen instemming, en we gaven er elkaar\nallemaal plechtig de hand op, niet het geringste korreltje achter\nte houden. Mocht iemand toch nog op oneerlijkheid betrapt worden,\ndan verspeelde hij zonder pardon zijn geheele aandeel.\nOnze kanonnier voegde hieraan nog den verstandigen raad toe, ons\nonderling te verplichten tot teruggeven van alle goud, wat we met\nspelen of wedden aan elkaar mochten verliezen. Hiermee werd meteen een\neind gemaakt aan den zucht tot dobbelen, die sommige onzer kameraden\nniet schenen te kunnen overwinnen.\nNa het sluiten van deze heilzame overeenkomst trokken we allen met veel\nlust aan den arbeid en wezen onzen negers hoe ze voor ons moesten\nwerken. Nauwkeurig doorzochten we beide oevers van den ondiepen\nzijstroom, zoowel als den zachten bodem en brachten zoo drie weken\naan en in het water door. In dien tijd waren we niet veel meer dan\nzes mijlen verder westwaarts gekomen, en hoe hooger we kwamen, hoe\nmeer goud we vonden, tot zich plotseling, aan den anderen kant van\neen heuvel, geen korrel meer voordeed. Daar het metaal dus blijkbaar\nvan de helling door 't water werd meegevoerd, begonnen we hier het\nterrein te onderzoeken. De grond was er los en geelachtig van kleur;\nook stootten we telkens op een harde witte steensoort, volgens\ngeleerden wie ik het later beschreef, waarschijnlijk het spaath,\ndat het gouderts in de mijnen omvat.\nHoe dit zij, al was het ook zuiver goud geweest, bezaten we toch geen\nwerktuig om het los te hakken, dus lieten we het rustig zitten. Bij\nhet woelen in de losse aarde troffen we een plek waar het zand om zoo\nte zeggen al uiteenviel als we er slechts aan raakten, en tot onze\ngroote verrassing bevatte het een massa goudkorrels. Den geheelen\nvoorraad, ongeveer twee schepel, voorzichtig naar het water dragende,\nspoelden we de leemige, gele aarde er af en hielden het zuivere\ngoudstof over. Merkwaardig was het, dat we in de harde aardlagen om\ndie losse plek heen, geen greintje van het metaal meer vonden.\n's Avonds kwamen we allen bij elkaar om te zien hoeveel we al vergaard\nhadden, en het bleek dat die losse zandhoop alleen bijna vijftig pond\nstof goud had opgeleverd, terwijl we aan ons zoeken in de rivier nog\nvier-en-dertig pond te danken hadden.\nFeitelijk was het een gelukkige tegenvaller voor ons dat hiermee\nongeveer een eind kwam aan ons goudzoeken, want ik geloof niet dat we\nhet zouden hebben opgegeven als onze hernieuwde pogingen in en langs\nde rivier met beteren uitslag bekroond waren geworden. Nu vonden we\nten slotte nog maar z\u00f3\u00f3 weinig, dat we overeenkwamen den arbeid te\nstaken om ons en onze negers niet door oververmoeienis ongeschikt\nte maken voor onze verdere reis. Volgens de weegschaal die onze\nsmid gemaakt had, kreeg ieder van ons nagenoeg drie-en-een-half pond\ngoud. Dit gewicht was uit den aard der zaak ruw geschat, doch volgens\nden smid zou het eerder meer dan minder bedragen, en later bleek dat\nhij gelijk had. Het overschot van zeven of acht pond vertrouwden we\nhem toe om er sieraden van te maken, die ons nog verder goed te pas\nzouden kunnen komen om er ons levensmiddelen of misschien vriendschap\nmee te koopen. Ook onze Zwarte Prins kreeg een pond, en nadat hij\nvan den smid een paar werktuigen geleend had, hamerde hij zijn schat\neigenhandig tot kleine ronde kogeltjes, boorde er gaatjes in en hing\ndeze goudkralen aan een touwtje om zijn zwarten hals. De arbeid kostte\nhem een paar maanden tijd, en hij was dan ook niet weinig trotsch op\nzijn met zooveel moeite veroverde versiering.\nZoo eindigde dus ons eerste goudavontuur. We begonnen nu echter\nte begrijpen dat we niet ernstig genoeg over onze toekomst\nhadden nagedacht en dat we onzen tocht geruimen tijd zouden\ndienen te onderbreken. Sedert vijf maanden onderweg, naderde de\nseizoenverwisseling, m.a.w. het natte jaargetijde, waarin we door\nde geweldige tropische regens en de vele overstroomingen niet\ngoed zouden kunnen reizen. Wel hadden we den regentijd al eens op\nMadagaskar meegemaakt, maar toch hadden we er, tamelijk zorgeloos,\ngeen rekening mee gehouden bij 't opmaken van ons Afrikaansche plan,\ntoen de zon op den grootsten noordelijken afstand van ons stond en\nde omstandigheden dus m\u00e8t ons waren geweest.\nTerwijl we deze aanstaande moeilijkheden overwogen, barstte de regen\nal los, en ijlings raad beleggende, besloten we met algemeene stemmen\nte blijven waar we waren; tot ons geluk, zooals later blijken zou.\nOnze eerste maatregel was dus, de negers aan 't werk te zetten om ons\nhutten te bouwen, en wel op veiligen afstand van de rivier, met het\noog op een mogelijke overstrooming. Toen alles gereed was, zag ons\nkampement er uit als een kleine stad. Onze hutten stonden in 't midden\nvan het terrein en hadden tot centrum een groote tent, waarin al onze\nslaapplaatsen uitkwamen en waar wij onze maaltijden, vergaderingen\nen gezellige bijeenkomsten hielden. Voor dit vertrek maakten onze\ntimmerlieden ons zooveel banken en tafels als we maar begeerden.\nSchoorsteenen hadden we niet noodig; 't was zonder vuur meer dan\nheet genoeg, doch tenslotte zagen we ons toch verplicht elken nacht\neen vuur aan te leggen om de wilde dieren--die ons hier niet minder\ndan in de woestijn lastig vielen--op een afstand te houden. Daar\nantilopen en ander onschuldig wild de begroeide omgeving van meer en\nrivieren opzochten om zich te voeden en te verschuilen, kon het niet\nuitblijven of de leeuwen en tijgers volgden hier hun prooi.\nDe schrik over deze ontdekking deed ons aanvankelijk besluiten onze\nmatten weer op te rollen, maar na lang beraad kwamen we overeen ons\nkamp liever zoo te omheinen, dat we geen gevaar van ongewenschte\ngasten te duchten hadden.\nDaar het ons gelukkig niet aan hout ontbrak, togen onze timmerlieden\ndadelijk aan den arbeid om ons kamp met hooge palen te omringen;\nniet naast elkaar, zooals bij een gewone omheining, maar onregelmatig\ngeplant, nu eens hooger, dan eens lager en allen van scherpe punten\nvoorzien. Op vele plaatsen vormde deze beschutting een wel twee el\ndiepen gordel, zoodat een dier al een geweldigen sprong moest nemen,\nwilde het er over heen komen en niet met zijn buik op de punten\nblijven hangen.\nBij den ingang van onze vesting stonden dikkere palen, z\u00f3\u00f3 voor\nelkaar gezet, dat ze drie of vier korte bochten maakten, waardoor\ngeen wild dier, grooter dan een hond, zou kunnen binnendringen. Ten\novervloede stookten we elken nacht een flink vuur voor den ingang van\nonze palissade, waar we een hut hadden neergezet om onze schildwachts\ntegen den regen te beschutten. Om dit vuur te onderhouden, velden\nwe verscheiden boomen die we in stukken zaagden en opstapelden om te\nlaten drogen, terwijl we de groene takken gebruikten om onze hutten\nnog beter af te dekken en te beschutten tegen den regen.\nNauwelijks hadden we al dit werk volbracht, of het begon zoo geweldig\nte regenen, dat we onmogelijk op jacht konden gaan om onzen mondkost\naan vullen. Gelukkig scheen al dat hemelwater onze negers met hun\nnaakte lichamen veel minder dan ons Europeanen te deren.\nVan half Juni tot half October bleven we in dit kampement, want\nhoewel het hevigste van den regenmousson tegen den tijd van den\nequinox bedaarde, stond de zon nu vlak boven ons hoofd, waarom we\nbesloten nog rustig te blijven waar we waren tot zij wat meer naar\nhet zuiden zou gedraaid zijn.\nGedurende dit oponthoud beleefden we nog verscheiden avonturen met de\nroofdieren uit deze streek, en hadden we ons vuur niet altijd brandende\ngehouden, dan betwijfel ik zeer, of onze omheining ons voldoende\nzou beveiligd hebben, hoewel we haar nog met veertien rijen palen\nversterkten. 't Was of de beesten 't er op zetten, ons juist altijd\n's nachts te komen verontrusten, soms bij zulke troepen te gelijk,\ndat het scheen alsof de leeuwen, tijgers, luipaarden en hyena's van\nheel Afrika ons kwamen aanvallen, en we door 't gebrul en geschreeuw\ngeen oog konden dicht doen.\nOp zekeren stormachtigen regennacht werden we allen door onze wacht\ngewekt, die een overval van de wilde dieren vreesde. Aan de vuurzijde\nvertoonden ze zich nooit, doch hun aantal was zoo groot dat we,\nofschoon vertrouwende op onze palissade, toch het zekere voor 't\nonzekere namen en naar onze wapens grepen. 't Was bijna volle maan\nen de lucht vol jagende wolken. Toen ik naar onze hutten omkeek,\nmeende ik een tijger binnenin onze fortificatie te onderscheiden,\nen dit bleek ook bijna het geval. Blijkbaar was het ondier met een\ngeweldigen sprong over onze omheining gekomen en toen op een ver boven\nde andere uitstekende paal, blijven hangen. Door zijn eigen zwaarte\nwas de punt hem in de dij gedrongen en zoo hing de panter daar nu,\nwant dat bleek het te zijn, huilende en in 't hout bijtende van woede.\nEen neger die naast mij stond zijn lans afgrijpende, snelde ik op\nhet beest toe en maakte het met een steek of drie, vier af. Ik wilde\nnamelijk niet schieten, omdat ik van plan was de overige verscheurende\ndieren, die zoo dicht op elkaar schenen te staan als de ossen op\neen veemarkt, met een salvo te begroeten. Mijn kameraads bijeen\nroepende, schoten we nu allen tegelijk onze geweren af op de plek\nwaar ze het dichtst bijeen stonden. De uitwerking was schitterend;\nalle namen overhaast de vlucht, behalve de dooden en gewonden die\nachterbleven--de laatste afschuwelijk brullend--maar waarnaar we\nnog geen onderzoek durfden gaan instellen. Het kolossale aantal was\nmisschien te wijten aan de ingewanden van een geslachte antilope en\nvan drie of vier geiten, die we over de palissaden hadden weggegooid.\nZoodra de dag begon aan te breken verlieten we onze legerplaats om\nhet slagveld in oogenschouw te nemen, waarop we drie doode tijgers en\ntwee hyena's vonden. Bovendien troffen we ook nog levend een prachtigen\nouden leeuw aan. Het arme dier waren beide voorpooten kapot geschoten,\nzoodat hij zich niet van de plaats bewegen kon, hoe ontzaglijk hij\nzich hiervoor ook had ingespannen. Hij was dus de gewonde held geweest,\nwiens woedend gebrul ons den ganschen nacht verontrust had.\n\"Als ik overtuigd was,\" zei onze chirurgijn, den leeuw met medelijden\nbeschouwend, \"dat het dier mij even dankbaar zou zijn als een van\nZijn Majesteits voorvaderen het Androkles, den Romeinschen slaaf,\nwas, dan zou ik stellig zijn beide pooten zetten.\"\n\"Ja, dat is niet vooruit te zeggen,\" zei ik, \"je moest maar met\nde behandeling beginnen en dan vertrouwen op het eergevoel van den\nwoestijn-koning.\"\nMaar de onderneming leek onzen heelmeester toch wat te gewaagd,\nen om een einde te maken aan het lijden van het afgemartelde beest,\nschoot hij het door den kop, wat hem voor 't vervolg den naam van\n\"koningsmoordenaar\" bezorgde.\nLater vonden onze negers nog vijf verwonde dieren, die in de omgeving\nvan ons kamp bezweken waren: een hyena, een mooi-gevlekten luipaard\nen nog drie andere beesten, die we niet eerder gezien hadden.\n't Bleef wel niet bij deze eerste nachtelijke bezoeken, maar\nin zoo groote getale kwamen ze toch nooit meer opzetten. 't\nGrootste bezwaar er van was nog, dat ze het onschadelijk wild\nuit onze buurt verjoegen, wier nabijheid zoo noodig was voor ons\nlevensonderhoud. Gelukkig waagden zich onze negers toch dagelijks\nop de jacht en keerden ze zelden zonder eenigen buit terug. Tegen\nhet einde van den regentijd vonden we in dit gedeelte van 't land\nook overvloed van eetbaar watergevogelte, zooals eenden, talingen,\nsmienten, ganzen enz. Verder vingen we heel wat visch, zoo dat het\nons nooit aan voedsel ontbrak. Het eenige wat we zeer begonnen te\nmissen was zout, waarvan we nog maar een kleinen voorraad bezaten,\ndie we natuurlijk uitsluitend voor onszelve hielden; de negers aten\nhun vleesch trouwens liever geheel ontoebereid.\nHet weer begon nu langzamerhand op te klaren; de regens bedaarden,\nhet water trok zich in zijn beddingen terug, en daar de zon door\nhaar zenith en naar het zuiden was gedraaid besloten we onze reis\nte hervatten.\nDen 12den October zetten we ons weer in beweging. Moeilijk was de\ntocht in dit gedeelte van het land volstrekt niet. We vonden overal\nvoedsel en water, legden ongeveer vijf-en-twintig mijlen per dag af en\nhielden gedurende de eerste elf dagen maar \u00e9\u00e9n dag rust, om een vlot\nte maken dat ons over een nog sterk gezwollen riviertje moest helpen.\nToen wij dit riviertje, dat ook naar 't noorden stroomde, achter\nons hadden, stootten we al gauw op een heuvelrij, aan weerszijden\nwaarvan zich een mooie laagvlakte uitstrekte. Niet van plan evenwel,\nonze westelijke richting ter wille van een bergketen te wijzigen,\ntrokken we dus moedig verder. Men stelle zich onze blijde verrassing\nvoor, toen een onzer timmerlui, die met een paar negers het eerst\nden bergrug bereikte, ons opgewonden toeriep: \"De zee! De zee!\" en\nvan pure uitgelatenheid begon te springen en te dansen.\n't Meest verrast waren misschien wel de kanonnier en ik, want we\nhadden juist 's morgens nog uitgerekend, dat we nog meer dan duizend\nmijl van de kust verwijderd moesten zijn en dus n\u00f3g wel een regentijd\nop het Afrikaansche vasteland zouden moeten doorbrengen.\nToen onze timmerman nu zoo uitbundig zijn vreugde uitte, werd de\nkanonnier kwaad en riep hem toe: \"Je bent gek!\" Maar boven gekomen\nmoest hij die woorden wel herroepen, want w\u00e1\u00e1r we ook keken, 't zij\nnaar 't westen, 't zuiden of 't noorden, we zagen niets dan water en\nnog eens water, een uitgestrektheid alleen door den horizon begrensd.\nVerrast en verward daalden we in de vlakte af, niet in staat te\nverklaren waar we ons bevonden, daar we volgens onze kaarten nog zoo\nver van den Atlantischen Oceaan waren en deze zee op geen drie mijlen\naf stands voor ons lag. Nog grooter werd onze verwondering toen we\nontdekten dat het water heel goed drinkbaar bleek.\nWelken koers nu verder te nemen? De zee, of wat het dan mocht wezen,\nmaakte verder trekken in westelijke richting onmogelijk. Na kort beraad\nbesloten we noordwaards te marcheeren, de richting die ons in ieder\ngeval dichter naar ons vurig begeerde doel, het vaderland zou voeren.\nGedurende drie-en-twintig dagen trokken we zoo langs den oever van deze\nontzaglijke watervlakte, zonder feitelijk te weten wat het was. Aan\nhet einde van dien termijn werden we verblijd door den juichkreet\n\"Land!\" door een onzer matrozen 's morgens in de vroegte aangeheven,\nen gelukkig bleek het geen valsch alarm. Duidelijk onderscheidden\nwe op grooten afstand in westelijke richting eenige bergtoppen. Nu\nwisten we meteen dat we niet langs de kust van een eigenlijke zee,\nmaar van een reusachtig meer of binnenzee gereisd hadden. Toen we\neindelijk, na nog acht dagen zwoegens, den noordelijken rand bereikt\nhadden, zagen we dat het meer zich in een groote rivier ontlastte,\ndie in noordelijke of noordoostelijke richting liep.\nBij nauwkeuriger overweging kwam mijn vriend de kanonnier nu tot\nhet inzicht dat hij zich vroeger vergist had en dit nu de Nijl moest\nwezen, maar hij bleef bij zijn opinie dat een reis naar Egypte niet\nwas aan te bevelen. Dus kwamen we overeen de rivier over te steken,\nwat met groote moeilijkheden gepaard bleek te gaan, daar de strooming\nbuitengewoon sterk en de bedding breed was.\nEr ging nog wel een week mee heen, eer we onszelf en ons vee aan\nden anderen kant hadden, want al groeiden er boomen in overvloed, we\nkonden er geen enkele vinden, groot genoeg om er een kano van te maken.\nDit gedeelte van onzen tocht werd buitengewoon vermoeiend. Telkens\nbelemmerd door de ontelbare kleine riviertjes, die van de oostelijk\ngelegen heuvels naar de binnenzee vloeiden, konden we elken dag\nslechts een korten afstand afleggen.\nDe laatste drie dagen van onze reis zagen we af en toe eenige inwoners,\ndie evenwel niet aan het water doch in 't gebergte woonden. Wat onze\nvoedselvoorziening betrof, geraakten we wat in 't nauw, daar we geen\nwild onder schot kregen en de zee weinig vischrijk scheen te zijn.\nTegenover deze bezwaren stond echter, dat we gedurende den geheelen\ntocht langs de binnenzee geen last van wilde dieren hadden gehad. De\neenige onaangename ervaringen van dien aard waren de ontmoetingen\nmet de giftige slangen, die op dit vochtige terrein tierden en ons\neen paar maal aanvielen. Trachtten we ze dood te slaan, dan richtten\nze zich op en sisten zoo doordringend, dat we het op vrij grooten\nafstand hooren konden.\nHoogst merkwaardig kwam het ons voor, dat we over een uitgestrektheid\nvan duizend mijlen geen menschen aantroffen. Wij hadden een marsch door\nhet hart van Afrika gemaakt, en het scheen wel alsof geen sterfelijk\nwezen hier een voet gezet had sedert Noachs zonen zich over den\naardbodem verspreid hadden. Toen onze kanonnier met behulp van zijn\nmeetinstrument de hoogte van onze verblijfplaats had vastgesteld,\nbleek het dat we ons, na een reis van drie-en-twintig dagen in\nnoordelijke richting, op 6\u00b0 22' zuiderbreedte bevonden.\nMet groote inspanning over bovengenoemde rivier gekomen, zagen we\neen woeste, onherbergzame streek voor ons, die ons met angst deed\nverder trekken. Het terrein was bergachtig, onvruchtbaar en moeilijk\nbegaanbaar, terwijl het er van verscheurende dieren wemelde. Van\nbewoners geen spoor. Bij dit alles kwam nog dat onze mondkost ten\neinde raakte en we geen kans zagen dien aan te vullen.\nBij zeer zuinig overleg zouden we 't met onze gedroogde visschen\nongeveer vijf dagen kunnen uithouden, en na eenige aarzeling besloten\nwe 't er op te wagen, vertrouwende inmiddels wel weer eetbare dieren\nof planten te zullen aantreffen. Dat viel echter niet mee; den zesden\ndag moesten we vasten. Met bezwaarde harten legden we ons 's avonds\nte ruste en den achtsten zagen we ons genoodzaakt een van onze trouwe\nstieren te slachten, die zoo geduldig onze lasten gedragen had. Zijn\nvleesch smaakte uitstekend, en we wisten er zoo zuinig mee om te\ngaan, dat het ons drie en een halven dag voor honger bewaarde. Al op\n't punt een tweeden buffel te dooden, daagde er gelukkig in de verte\neen vruchtbaarder streek op met boomen en een rivier.\nMet nieuwen moed bezield, verhaastten we, ondanks onze leege magen\nen groote vermoeidheid, ons marschtempo om zoo gauw mogelijk den\noever te bereiken, en tot ons geluk kwamen ons, nog eer we zoover\nwaren, een paar jonge antilopen onder schot, een lekkernij waarnaar\nwe reeds dikwijls verlangd hadden en die we dan ook als hongerige\nwolven verslonden.\nHOOFDSTUK VIII.\nONTMOETING MET EEN BLANKE.\nAan den oever van deze rivier ontdekten we reeds den eersten dag sporen\nvan bewoners, hoewel we er nog geen enkel mensch ontmoetten. Den\ntweeden dag kwamen we eerst in een bewoonde streek, waar alle\ninboorlingen, de vrouwen zoowel als de mannen, geheel naakt liepen.\nNadat we hen met vriendschapsteekenen tegemoet waren getreden, leerden\nwe ze al gauw als een onbevangen, goedmoedig en betrouwbaar soort\nvan menschen kennen. Zonder de geringste schuwheid kwamen ze naar\nonze negers toe en gaven ons geen enkele reden om hen van slinksche\nstreken te verdenken, zooals dit bij andere volksstammen wel eens\n't geval was geweest.\nZoodra we hun door gebaren te kennen gaven dat we honger hadden,\nliepen eenige vrouwen hard weg om met een grooten voorraad wortelen\nen kalabassen terug te komen, die wij dadelijk in goed vertrouwen\nopaten. Daarop liet onze fijnsmid hun een paar van zijn ijzeren en\nzilveren sieraden zien, waarbij ze wel zooveel begrip toonden te\nbezitten dat ze gretiger de zilveren dan de ijzeren aannamen. Toen\nwe hen daarna de gouden fraaiigheden toonden, bemerkten we, dat ze\ndie echter van minder waarde achtten dan de eerste.\nIn ruil voor eenige van die prullen, brachten ze ons nog meer\nlevensmiddelen, onder andere drie dieren ongeveer zoo groot als\nkalveren, die we nooit eerder gezien hadden, maar die heerlijk\nsmaakten. Later kwamen ze nog met twaalf stuks van datzelfde vee aan en\nmet een half dozijn kleinere dieren, die aan hazen deden denken. Een\nen ander was ons bij den voedselnood waarin we ons bevonden, meer\ndan welkom.\nBinnen korten tijd stonden we met deze negerstam op zeer\nvriendschappelijken voet. Nog nooit hadden we zulke vriendelijke,\ngedienstige inwoners aangetroffen. Ze deden al wat we maar verlangden\nmet de grootste bereidwilligheid en, wat een buitengewoon aangename\nervaring was, we konden ons oneindig gemakkelijker verstaanbaar maken\ndan dit tot nu toe ooit bij een der Afrikaansche negerstammen het\ngeval was geweest.\nToen wij na verloop van een week ongeveer, onze reis wilden hervatten\nen hen, naar het westen wijzende, om inlichtingen vroegen, beduidden\nze ons dat die richting niet te volgen was maar we noordwestelijk\nmoesten aanhouden. Uit hun gebaren maakten we op dat ons een meer in\nden weg moest liggen, en dit bleek ook werkelijk het geval. Na een\ntocht van twee dagen kregen we het in 't oog en we zagen het steeds\nlinks van ons liggen tot we den evenaar gepasseerd waren.\nOnzen kanonnier beviel dat voorttrekken in noordelijke richting\nvolstrekt niet, en met een bezorgd gezicht wees hij me op de kaart\naan, dat het vasteland zich, van 6\u00b0 noorderbreedte af, zoo ver naar\n't westen begon uit te strekken, dat we ruim vijftienhonderd mijlen\nmeer zouden moeten afleggen, dan wanneer we op een zuidelijker punt\nde zee konden bereiken.\n\"Is er geen kans dat we hier eens een bevaarbare rivier ontmoeten,\ndie ons naar den westelijken oceaan brengt?\" vroeg ik hem. \"Dan zouden\nwe ons den stroom kunnen laten afzakken en kwam het er niet op aan,\nal was 't tweemaal vijftienhonderd mijlen, wanneer we maar mondkost\nkonden vinden langs de oevers.\"\nDaarop legde hij me opnieuw de kaart voor en wees mij dat er geen\nrivier scheen te bestaan, lang genoeg om ons van eenigen dienst te\nkunnen zijn; ze werden allemaal pas op omstreeks twee of driehonderd\nmijlen van de kust bevaarbaar, de Niger, of \"Rio Grande\" zooals de\nPortugeezen haar noemden uitgezonderd.\n\"Die ligt ook stellig nog wel een zevenhonderd mijl noordelijker van\nons dan waar we nu zijn,\" verklaarde hij, \"en 't is op geen stukken\nna te bepalen hoe we ons door dien afstand zullen heenslaan. De hitte\nten noorden van den evenaar is al even ondragelijk als ten zuiden\ndaarvan, en het land waarschijnlijk veel woester, onvruchtbaarder en\nonherbergzamer. Daarbij loopen we groot gevaar, wanneer we tusschen\nde negers aan de noordkust verzeilen, vijandig ontvangen te worden,\nuit wraak over de slechte behandeling die zij zich over 't geheel\nvan de Europeanen met wie ze handel drijven, moeten laten welgevallen.\"\nDit alles overwegende, ried hij ons aan, zoo gauw we het meer voorbij\nwaren, naar het Z.W. af te buigen en te trachten de Kongorivier te\nbereiken, waarnaar de kust genoemd is, die even ten N. van Angola,\nons oorspronkelijke doel was geweest.\n\"Ben je ooit aan de Kongo-kust geweest?\" vroeg ik hem.\n\"Jawel, dat is te zeggen, ik heb er voor anker gelegen,\" antwoordde\nonze kanonnier. \"Aan wal ben ik er nooit geweest.\"\n\"Maar hoe kunnen we vandaar een landingsplaats voor Europeesche\nschepen bereiken?\" vroeg ik weer. \"Als het vasteland van Afrika zoowat\nvijftienhonderd mijlen naar het westen vooruitspringt, moeten we toch\nlangs die heele kust trekken om de westelijke punt te bereiken.\n\"Tien tegen \u00e9\u00e9n,\" verzekerde mijn vriend, \"dat we wel van 't een of\nander Europeesch schip zullen hooren, dat ons wil opnemen. De kusten\nvan Kongo en Angola worden dikwijls door handelaars bezocht, en al\nmocht dit nu eens niet het geval zijn, dan behoeven we in ieder geval\ntoch niet bang te zijn voor voedselgebrek en kunnen we evengoed langs\nde kust als over de rivier varen tot we aan de Goudkust komen. Die ligt\nniet meer dan een goede vier mijl ten noorden van den Kongo. Daar zijn\nook Engelsche, Hollandsche en Fransche nederzettingen en factorijen.\"\nIk moet bekennen dat ik, ondanks zijn heele betoog veel liever naar\n't noorden was gegaan om ons op den Niger of Negro in te schepen en\nzoo ten slotte Kaap Verde te bereiken, waar we stellig op verlossing\nzouden kunnen rekenen. Tot aan de westkust hadden we nog een geweldig\neind voor den boeg, zoowel te land als te water en allicht geen ander\nverschiet dan ons het noodigste voedsel met geweld en groote moeite\nte moeten verzekeren. Voor 't oogenblik hield ik echter mijn mond,\nuit ontzag voor de meening van mijn leermeester.\nMaar toen we nu het meer voorbij waren en dus het punt bereikt hadden\nwaar we volgens zijn wensch, zuidwaarts zouden afslaan, begonnen al\nonze mannen te mopperen en zich te verzetten, overtuigd dat we nu toch\nzeker en gewis op den verkeerden weg waren en hoe langer hoe verder van\nhuis raakten. Na veel heen en weer gepraat kreeg de kanonnier echter\nzijn zin, tot we twaalf dagen na 't begin van den tocht (acht hadden\nwe noodig gehad om om 't meer heen te komen en vier dagreizen waren we\nnu al in zuidwestelijke richting getrokken) opnieuw gedwongen werden\nhalt te houden. Het land dat zich voor ons uitstrekte was namelijk\nzoo woest en dor, dat we niet recht wisten of we ons verder mochten\nwagen, ja, dan neen. Het leek ons \u00e9\u00e9n onafzienbare woestenij, zonder\nbosch, struik of water en totaal onbewoond. Hoe zouden we ons hier van\nmondkost kunnen voorzien, voldoende voor zulk een woestijntocht, zooals\nwe dat vroeger altijd hadden gedaan? En vier dagen terugmarcheeren\nnaar het groote meer lachte ons ook al heel weinig toe.\nToch ondernamen we het waagstuk. Menschen die zulke onherbergzame\nstreken waren doorgetrokken als wij, lieten zich ook door de\ndreigendste moeilijkheden, niet meer afschrikken. Daarbij was het\nfeit dat we in westelijke richting, zij 't ook op grooten afstand,\nbergtoppen zagen oprijzen wel van eenigen invloed op ons besluit,\novertuigd als we waren dat we in en bij 't gebergte bronnen en rivieren\nzouden vinden. Waar rivieren zijn, groeien planten en boomen, waar\nplanten en boomen groeien, leeft vee, en waar vee leeft zullen allicht\nook menschelijke bewoners zijn, redeneerden we. Met opgewekt vertrouwen\nin deze gunstige kansen aanvaardden we onzen nieuwen woestijntocht\nmet niet meer provisie dan een voorraad wortelen en planten, die ons,\nde gewoonte der inboorlingen volgende, tot brood dienden; een klein\nbeetje vleesch en zout en ook heel weinig water.\nNa twee dagen voortgezwoegd te zijn, schenen de bergen nog wel even ver\nvan ons af als toen we begonnen, maar na vijf volle dagreizen hadden we\nze gelukkig bereikt. Het tempo van onzen marsch was trouwens langzaam\ngeweest, daar het, zoo dicht bij den aequator, ondraaglijk heet was.\nWaar bergen zijn, zullen ook wel bronnen en rivieren ontspringen,\nhadden we vertrouwd, en dit bleek ook het geval; maar tot onze\nverbazing en schrik kwamen we tot de ontdekking dat het water der\neerste bron dat er kristalhelder en aanlokkelijk uitzag, bremzout\nwas. Een ontzettende teleurstelling, die ons het eerste oogenblik met\nangstige voorgevoelens vervulde. Onze kanonnier evenwel, nooit gauw\nuit het veld geslagen, zei dat we ons hierdoor volstrekt niet behoefden\nte laten ontmoedigen, maar eerder dankbaar moesten zijn, daar we zout\njuist zoo hoog noodig hadden. Ongetwijfeld zouden we ook nog wel zoet\nwater vinden. En onze heelmeester die dit laatste met hem eens was,\nstelde ons nog verder gerust door ons te verzekeren dat hij een manier\nwist om zout water in zoet te veranderen. Al begrepen we in de verste\nverte niet hoe hij dit zou klaarspelen, vertrouwden we toch dat hij ons\nniet voor den gek hield en zagen onzen toestand dus weer hoopvoller in.\nInmiddels waren eenige van onze mannen al aan 't zoeken gegaan naar\nandere bronnen. Zonder groote moeite vonden ze er verscheidene,\nmaar helaas geen enkele met zoet water. Hierdoor kwamen we tot\nde gevolgtrekking, dat er steenzoutlagen in het gebergte moesten\nvoorkomen en we dus geen kans hadden zoet water te vinden. Des te\nnieuwsgieriger werden we hierdoor naar het toovermiddel waardoor onze\nchirurgijn dit zoute water in bruikbaar drinkwater zou veranderen. 't\nBleek een wonderlijke methode te zijn, maar hij trok aan 't werk\nmet een zelfvertrouwen en een beslistheid, alsof hij het zaakje al\nherhaaldelijk op dezelfde plaats bij de hand had gehad.\nTwee van onze groote matten nemende, naaide hij die zoo aan\nelkaar, dat ze een soort van zak vormden die vier voet lang en\ndrie-en-een-halven voet breed was en gevuld, ongeveer anderhalven\nvoet dik zou zijn. Dezen zak moesten we met droog zand vol scheppen en\nhet zoo vast met onze voeten aanstampen als slechts, zonder de matten\nte scheuren, mogelijk was. Toen we den zak op die manier tot op een\nvoet na van boven gevuld hadden, schepte hij een andere aardsoort\nwaarmee hij de overige ruimte liet aanstampen. Daarop maakte hij in\nde bovenste laag een opening, ongeveer zoo groot als een hoedebol,\nmaar wat minder diep. Deze opening moest een neger met water vullen en\ner telkens wanneer het was weggezakt, wat bijgieten, zoodat de holte\nsteeds vol bleef staan. Vooraf had hij zelf den zak op twee stukken\nhout, ongeveer een voet boven den grond gezet en er een paar van onze\nwaterdichte huiden onder uitgespreid. Na een uur ongeveer--zeker niet\neerder--begon het water druppelsgewijze onder uit den zak te lekken,\nen tot onze groote blijdschap proefden we dat het volkomen frisch en\nzoutloos was. Nadat we het eenige uren lang gretig hadden opgevangen,\nbegon het weer eenigszins brak te smaken en moesten we de zakken met\nnieuw zand vullen.\nDen volgenden dag beklommen we met groote inspanning, daar de felle\nhitte ons alle lichaamsbewegingen tot een last maakte, den hoogsten\nbergtop om ons te kunnen ori\u00ebnteeren, en alsof we nog niet genoeg\ntegenspoed ondervonden hadden, strekte zich, zoover onze oogen reikten,\nnaar 't zuiden, westen en noordwesten, een afschuwelijke woestenij\nvoor ons uit. Geen boom of beek, ja geen enkel sprietje groen gaf,\nvoor zoover wij ontdekken konden, eenige afwisseling. Evenals het\ngedeelte dat we achter ons hadden, was de bodem slechts bedekt met\neen soort van mos, zoo grauw en doodsch van tint, dat het blijkbaar\nmensch noch dier tot voedsel zou kunnen dienen.\nWaren we slechts--zooals bij 't aanvaarden van onzen eersten\nwoestijntocht--voor een dag of tien, twintig van voedsel en drinkwater\nvoorzien geweest, we waren, zelfs op gevaar af weer terug te\nmoeten trekken, met frisschen moed op marsch gegaan, te meer daar\nwe, in noordelijke richting, hoogstwaarschijnlijk voor dezelfde\nbodemgesteldheid zouden komen te staan. Maar het totaal gebrek aan\nlevensmiddelen en de onmogelijkheid ze ons te verschaffen, maakten\nde onderneming geheel onuitvoerbaar.\nWel doodden we aan den voet van 't gebergte nog eenige wilde dieren,\nmaar behalve een paar die we nooit eerder hadden geschoten, waren ze\noneetbaar. Die ons onbekende beesten hielden het midden tusschen een\nbuffel en een hert; ze hadden geen horens, maar de pooten van een koe\nen den mooien kop en hals van een hert. Een paar maal doodden we ook\neen tijger en twee jonge leeuwen en een wolf, maar gelukkig waren\nwe nog niet z\u00f3\u00f3 ten einde raad, dat we dit sterk smakende vleesch\nbehoefden te eten.\nBij dit dreigende voedselgebrek kwam ik opnieuw met mijn voorstel\naan, om liever noordwaarts te trekken naar den Niger of Rio Grande,\ndan in westelijke richting naar de Engelsche nederzettingen aan\nde goudkust; en allen vielen mij bij, met uitzondering van onzen\nkanonnier die--ofschoon hij zich nu blijkbaar vergist had--toch onze\nbeste gids was. Hij drong ons liever noordwestelijk aan te houden om\nop die wijze den een of anderen zijtak van den Niger te bereiken, of\nmogelijk een rivier die aan de Goudkust uitmondde. In beide gevallen\nkonden we ons dan den stroom laten afzakken en met weinig moeite ons\ndoel bereiken. \"Buitendien,\" besloot hij, \"is in de buurt van een\nrivier het eerst vruchtbaar en bewoond land te verwachten en dus ook\nde kans ons weer behoorlijk van proviand te voorzien.\"\nDe raad scheen te verstandig om in den wind te slaan; maar v\u00f3\u00f3r\nalles moesten we beproeven van de verschrikkelijke plaats waar we\nons bevonden weg te komen.\nAchter ons lag een woestijn die ons al vijf dagreizen gekost had,\nterwijl we bij gebrek aan vijf dagen leeftocht niet langs denzelfden\nweg terug konden gaan; en v\u00f3\u00f3r ons strekte zich een nog verlatener\nlandstreek uit. Na lang wikken en wegen besloten we eindelijk langs\nde oostelijke helling van 't gebergte, die nog eenige sporen van\nplantengroei vertoonde, zoover mogelijk naar 't noorden te trekken\nen inmiddels vlijtig naar voedsel rond te zien.\nDaar we geen tijd te verliezen hadden, zetten we ons den volgenden\nmorgen reeds vroeg in beweging, en tot onze groote verlichting\nvonden we den middag van dienzelfden dag nog een paar heerlijke\nzoetwaterbronnen, waaruit we, na onze dorst ruimschoots gelescht\nte hebben, onze leeren waterflesschen vulden. Ik verzuimde nog te\nvertellen, dat onze heelmeester die ons zoetwater bezorgd had, ook\neen paar flinke zakken zout uit die zilte bronnen gewonnen had.\nDen derden dag vonden we--geheel onverwachts--levensmiddelen\ngenoeg. Het gebergte wemelde hier namelijk van hazen, die uiterlijk\nnogal van de Europeesche verschilden, grooter en niet zoo vlug, maar\nzeer goed van smaak waren. We schoten er verscheiden, en de kleine\ntamme luipaard, die we uit het verlaten negerdorp hadden meegenomen,\nbewees ons bij deze jacht goede diensten. Bijna elken dag hielp hij\nons er een paar vangen door ze als een goed-gedresseerde hond op te\njagen, zonder ze ooit zelf te eten. We zoutten de hazen even, droogden\nze in de zon en verzamelden zoo een flinken reisvoorraad--misschien\nwel een driehonderd stuks--er op rekenend dat we waarschijnlijk in\nlangen tijd niets eetbaars meer zouden vinden.\nNadat we onzen tocht nog een dag of acht zonder buitengewone inspanning\nhadden voortgezet, merkten we met vreugde op, dat het land om ons heen\ner minder troosteloos begon uit te zien. Toen een paar van onze mannen\nmet eenige negers de berghelling beklommen om te kijken of het terrein\nten westen ook sporen van meer vruchtbaarheid begon te vertoonen,\nkeerden ze echter teleurgesteld terug. Er was nog geen eind aan de\nwoestenij te zien die zich ook noordwaards bleef uitstrekken. Toen\nwe dus den tienden dag een punt bereikten, waar de bergrug een bocht\nmaakte en als 't ware in de woestijn uitliep, lieten we 't gebergte\nin den steek en vervolgden onzen weg naar 't noorden. Gelukkig kwam\nhier langzamerhand eenige afwisseling in het landschap. We troffen\nverschillende boschrijke gedeelten aan, onderbroken door korte stukjes\nwoestijn, tot we ons den negentienden dag, volgens verklaring van\nonzen kanonnier, op een noorderbreedte van 8\u00b0 5' bevonden.\nOok in deze streek ontmoetten we geen menschelijke ziel; wel\neen overvloed van wilde dieren, die ons echter--men gewend aan\nalles--weinig vrees meer inboezemden. Elken morgen en avond zagen we\nleeuwen en tijgers of luipaarden, maar daar ze zelden vlak bij ons\nkwamen, lieten we hen ook met rust. Naderden ze ons te dicht naar\nonzen zin, dan behoefden we maar even wat kruit op een geweerpan te\nbranden en ze gingen verschrikt aan den haal.\nWat levensmiddelen betreft, hadden we ons hier niet te beklagen. Soms\nschoten we hazen, een anderen keer vogels, maar wat voor soorten\nhet waren zou ik met geen mogelijkheid kunnen zeggen, behalve dat\ner een soort van patrijs onder voorkwam en een vogel die op een\ntortel leek. Nu en dan ontmoetten we ook weer kudden olifanten, een\ndierenreus, die bij voorkeur de boomrijke gedeelten van Afrika opzoekt.\nDe lang voortgezette tocht vermoeide ons ontzaglijk; twee onzer mannen\nwerden z\u00f3\u00f3 ziek dat we vreesden hen te moeten verliezen, terwijl een\nsterke neger plotseling stierf. Volgens onzen heelmeester moest hij\neen beroerte gehad hebben. Een tweede neger was er ook naar aan toe,\ndoch toen hij zich, op aanraden, of feitelijk meer op bevel van onzen\ndokter had doen aderlaten, genas hij weer.\nTerwille van onze zieken maakten we nu twaalf dagen halt en in dien\nrusttijd overreedde de heelmeester mij en nog drie of vier kameraads,\nons ook te doen aderlaten 't geen, gevoegd bij verschillende andere\nmiddelen, er stellig veel toe bijdroeg ons gedurende zoo'n langgerekten\ntocht in een heet klimaat gezond te houden.\nOok gedurende dezen marsch sloegen we iederen nacht onze matten-tenten\nop, waarin we ons behaaglijker gevoelden dan onder het bladerdak,\ndat ons anders op de meeste plaatsen wel zou beschut hebben.\nAllervreemdst bleven we het vinden, dat we in deze geheele landstreek\ngeen enkelen inwoner aantroffen. Eerst later vonden we hiervoor\neen verklaring. We waren namelijk, aanvankelijk naar 't westen en\ndaarna naar 't noorden trekkende, te lang in 't midden van 't land,\nin 't onvruchtbaarste gedeelte gebleven, terwijl de inwoners zich\nnatuurlijk alleen aan de rivieren, meren en in de groene laaglanden in\n't hooge noorden en 't zuidwesten ophouden.\nDe beken die we in dit terrein aantroffen, stonden zoo droog dat\ner, behalve in een poel of kuil hier en daar, nauwelijks van water\nsprake was. Feitelijk vormden ze niet meer dan kleine afwateringen\ngedurende den regentijd; stroomend water vonden we nergens. Naar\nmenschelijke berekening zouden we dus waarschijnlijk nog een grooten\nafstand hebben af te leggen, eer we het Nigerdal konden bereiken. Deze\nomstandigheid ontmoedigde ons echter volstrekt niet zoolang het ons\nniet aan levensmiddelen ontbrak en aan een behoorlijke beschutting\ntegen de hitte, die mij nu nog ondraaglijker voorkwam dan toen de\nzon recht boven onze hoofden stond.\nZoodra onze zieken hersteld waren, zetten we ons--voldoende van voedsel\nen water voorzien--weer in beweging. We liepen in noordwestelijke\nrichting, altijd nog hopende een rivier te vinden, die met kano's\nbevaarbaar zou zijn, 't geen ons eerst na twintig dagen gelukte. Van\ndien tijd hadden we echter zeker een derde deel rustende doorgebracht\nomdat onze mannen uitgeput raakten. Terwijl de zwakkeren zich zoo\ngoed mogelijk weer herstelden, trokken de sterksten van ons dan met\nonze negers ter jacht om onzen snel afnemenden mondvoorraad weer wat\naan te vullen.\nIn die twintig dagen kwamen we vier graden verder noordwaarts en\nongeveer de breedte van een meridiaan verder naar het westen. Vooral in\nde houtrijke gedeelten troffen we op deze reis een massa olifantstanden\naan, waaronder buitengewoon groote. Hoe kostbaar ook, waren ze geen\nbuit voor ons. We zouden ons noodeloos vermoeid hebben met ze mee te\nsleepen en moesten er slechts op bedacht zijn proviand te veroveren\nen onzen weg naar de zee te vinden. Een mooie vette antilope was\nonder onze omstandigheden vrij wat meer waard geweest dan een\nscheepslading olifantstanden, maar toch zouden we later, toen we\nweer bevaarbaar water vonden, graag een groote kano gemaakt hebben,\nenkel om die met ivoor te beladen. Toen we de tanden zoo in overvloed\nvonden, wisten we evenwel ook niets van den toestand der rivieren en\nhadden we natuurlijk geen flauwe voorstelling van de moeilijkheden:\nde watervallen, stroomversnellingen enz. die we gedurende dat traject\nzouden hebben te overwinnen, eer we ons zwaar, lastig te vervoeren\nmateriaal naar de plaats zouden hebben gebracht waar wij ons ten\nslotte konden inschepen.\nAan 't einde van dien tocht van twintig dagen zagen we op eenigen\nafstand voor ons een dal, waardoor een rivier stroomde, blijkbaar\nin noord-noordwestelijke richting, juist dus zooals we wenschten,\nen daar we sinds lang op de mogelijkheid van een tochtje te water\ngehoopt hadden, waren we 't er allen over eens het hier te gaan\nprobeeren en marcheerden we met versnelden pas op het dal toe.\nTusschen het punt waar we ons bevonden en de rivier, lag een van\ndie kleine boschjes die we al meer in deze streek ontmoet hadden,\nen toen we er zonder een zweem van argwaan of onrust langs trokken,\nwerd een onzer negers plotseling gevaarlijk door een pijl gewond,\njuist tusschen de schouderbladen. We hielden natuurlijk onmiddellijk\nhalt, wezen drie onzer mannen en twee negers aan om het struikgewas\nte doorzoeken en wachtten in spanning den uitslag af, terwijl onze\nheelmeester den gewonde hielp. Het duurde niet lang of onze mannen\nkwamen met het bericht terug dat ze een neger met een boog, zonder\npijl ontdekt hadden, die getracht had zich haastig uit de voeten te\nmaken. Een onzer matrozen schoot hem echter neer, waardoor ons de\ngelegenheid ontging hem gevangen te nemen en misschien waardevolle\ndingen van hem te weten te komen.\nDienzelfden dag kwamen we bij vijf negerhutten, geheel anders gebouwd\ndan de soorten die we vroeger gezien hadden. Aan de deur van een dier\nhutten lagen zeven olifant standen tegen den wand der hut gestapeld,\nalsof ze bestemd waren om ter markt gebracht te worden. Mannen zagen\nwe niet bij de woningen, enkel een zevental vrouwen en ongeveer\ntwintig kinderen. Besloten hun vriendelijk te behandelen, gaven we\nelk der vrouwen een dun stukje geslagen zilver in den vorm van een\nkruis of een vogeltje, waarop ze ons in hun kinderlijke blijdschap,\nallerlei levensmiddelen aanbrachten, die ons tot nu toe onbekend\nwaren, o.a. een soort van koeken die uit wortelmeel bereid, en in de\nzon gebakken waren en lang niet kwaad smaakten.\nEen eindje verder sloegen we ons nachtkwartier op, vertrouwende dat\nonze vriendelijkheid tegenover de vrouwen niet zou nalaten de mannen\nbij hun thuiskomst gunstig voor ons te stemmen.\nEn werkelijk, den volgenden morgen kwam een gezelschap, bestaande uit\nde zeven vrouwen, elf mannen, vijf jongens en twee groote meisjes op\nons kamp af.\nOp korten afstand van onze hutten halt houdende, hieven de vrouwen\neen eigenaardig gekrijsch aan als om ons naar buiten te roepen,\nen toen we hieraan gevolg gaven, hielden twee der negerinnen de\nsieraden omhoog die we hun geschonken hadden, wezen daarna op het\ntroepje achter hen en begonnen allerlei teekenen te maken, die\nonmiskenbaar hun vriendelijke gezindheid moesten vertolken. Daarna\nkwamen de mannen naar ons toe, legden pijl en boog op den grond,\nbogen zich diep ter aarde, bestrooiden hun hoofden met zand en\ndraaiden--de handen op het hoofd houdende--driemaal in de rondte, 't\ngeen een plechtige betuiging van vriendschap scheen te zijn. Toen we\nhen wenkten naderbij te treden, zonden ze eerst de jongens en meisjes\nop ons af, met nog meer koeken en eetbare kruiden. Nadat we de goede\ngaven in ontvangst hadden genomen, tilden we een paar der kinderen\nomhoog om hen te kussen, waarop de mannen eindelijk het oogenblik\ngekomen schenen ons geheel te vertrouwen, naar ons toe te komen en\nop den grond bij ons neer te hurken, ons beduidende hun voorbeeld te\nvolgen. Hierop volgde een levendig gesprek tusschen de inboorlingen,\nwaarvan we geen enkelen klank begrepen, terwijl onze woorden hun\nnatuurlijk even onverstaanbaar waren. Van 't verkrijgen van eenige\ninlichting omtrent den te volgen weg, was dus geen sprake. 't Eenige\nwat hen duidelijk scheen, was dat we voedsel noodig hadden. Even nadat\nwe hun dit aan 't verstand hadden gebracht, zag ik een der negers een\noogenblik onafgewend naar een heuvelhelling turen, die wel ongeveer\neen kwartier gaans van ons verwijderd moest zijn. Opeens sprong hij\novereind, liep naar de plek waar ze hun wapens hadden neergelegd,\ngreep een boog met twee pijlen en joeg als een renpaard naar den\nheuvel. Daar aangekomen schoot hij zijn beide pijlen af en vloog met\ndezelfde haast weer naar ons toe. Daar we zagen dat hij met den boog\nalleen, zonder pijlen, terugkwam, werden we nog nieuwsgieriger, doch\nhij sprak geen woord, wenkte alleen een van onze negers hem te volgen,\nwat deze op ons bevel deed en voerde hem mee naar de berghelling,\nwaar een door zijn pijlen geraakte antilope stervend op den grond\nlag. Met vereende krachten brachten ze ons toen het dier, dat ons\nbuitengewoon welkom was, daar onze proviand sterk verminderde.\nDen volgenden dag kwamen er wel een honderd mannen en vrouwen naar\nons toe, die ons op allerlei vreemdsoortige manieren hun vriendschap\nbetuigden. Ze dansten voor ons, grijnsden ons vriendelijk aan en\ngaven ons al wat ze maar hadden. 't Bleef ons onverklaarbaar hoe de\nneger in 't bosch op den vijandigen inval gekomen was, zonder eenige\naanleiding op een onzer zwarten te schieten, daar deze inboorlingen\nzich overigens van zoo'n gunstigen, welwillenden kant lieten kennen.\nVan hier trokken we naar den oever der kleine rivier, die we sinds\nlang in 't oog hadden, en nu bleek al heel gauw dat we in een steeds\ndichter bevolkte streek geraakten, door groote negerstammen bewoond,\nomtrent wier houding ten opzichte van ons we natuurlijk geheel in\n't onzekere verkeerden.\nVoorloopig konden we ons plan de rivier te bevaren, helaas nog niet ten\nuitvoer brengen, en we waren zeker vijf dagen langs den oever verder\ngetrokken, eer onze timmerman, meenende dat het water langzamerhand\ngenoeg diepte had gekregen, ons voorstelde nu onze tenten op te\nslaan en kano's te gaan maken. We trokken met ijver aan den arbeid en\nhadden al een dag of vier aan 't omhouwen van eenige geschikte boomen\nbesteed, toen een paar onzer matrozen van een excursie stroomafwaarts\nterugkeerden met de ongelukstijding dat de rivier eerder ondieper dan\ndieper werd en wel geheel in 't zand scheen te verloopen of door de\nhitte te verdampen.\nTot onze bittere teleurstelling moesten we dus opnieuw van 't\naanlokkelijke kanoplan afzien en te voet verder trekken.\nVan nu af aan reisden we drie dagen lang in zuiver westelijke richting,\ndaar het land in 't noorden buitengewoon bergachtig bleek en de grond\nzoo dor en vol spleten als we 't nog niet gezien hadden. Daarentegen\nvonden we naar 't westen toe, een vriendelijk dal dat tusschen twee\nhooge bergruggen lag ingesloten. De bergen aan weerskanten zagen\ner afschrikwekkend kaal uit, er was geen sprietje of struikje op\nte bekennen, maar in de vallei groeide overvloed van gras en lage\nboomen en troffen we eetbare dieren en zelfs eenige menschelijke\nbewoners aan. Nu en dan kwamen we een paar hutten dier inboorlingen\nvoorbij, maar zoodra de zwarten ons zagen naderen, vluchtten ze in de\nbergen. Aan het einde van het dal geraakten we in een dicht bevolkte\nstreek, 't geen ons even in tweestrijd bracht of we er midden doorheen\nzouden trekken, dan wel ons aan de bergen houden, die meer noordelijk\nliepen; en daar ons doel bleef zoo mogelijk den Niger te bereiken,\nbesloten wij tot het laatste en sloegen we, na 't compas te hebben\ngeraadpleegd, de noordwestelijke richting in.\nOp deze wijze trokken we, zonder onderbreking, zeven dagen verder,\nna welk tijdsverloop we tot de ontdekking van een toestand kwamen,\ndie nog veel troosteloozer en moeilijker was dan de omstandigheden\nwaarin wij ons hadden bevonden.\nBehalve wanneer we hen voor de aanvulling onzer provisie of om\nons te orienteeren noodig hadden, zochten we geen aanraking met de\nbevolking die vooral naar het zuiden toe, dus links van ons, tamelijk\ndicht bleek.\nHoewel we over 't geheel voldoende voedsel konden vergaren, kwam\nhet toch menigmaal zeer krap aan, en met blijdschap begroetten we\neindelijk een frisch stroomend water, dat wel nauwelijks groot genoeg\nwas om rivier te noemen, doch in noord-noordwestelijke richting liep,\ndus ons uitstekend te pas kwam.\nAan den anderen kant van dit water zagen we een paar negerhutten en\nin een klein dal een veldje mais of Indiaansch koren, 't geen ons\ndadelijk op de gedachte bracht, dat hier een meer ontwikkelde stam\nmoest wonen dan we over 't geheel hadden aangetroffen.\nTerwijl onze kleine karavaan regelmatig opgesteld verder marcheerde,\nriepen plotseling de negers die in 't voorste gelid liepen, dat ze\neen \"witman\" zagen. 't Eerste oogenblik waren we niet buitengewoon\nverwonderd, overtuigd dat de zwartjes zich vergist moesten hebben,\nmaar toen ik, naar hen toegaande, vroeg, wat ze eigenlijk bedoelden,\nwezen ze opgewonden naar een hut aan den anderen oever, waar ik\nwerkelijk een blanke onderscheidde. De man stond, geheel naakt,\nbij den ingang der hut, diep voorovergebogen met iets in zijn hand,\neen werktuig blijkbaar, waarmee hij bezig was, en met zijn rug naar\nons toegekeerd, zoodat hij ons niet zien kon.\nIk beduidde den negers geen lawaai te maken en wachtte tot de anderen\nons hadden ingehaald om hen te kunnen overtuigen dat hier geen sprake\nwas van een vergissing. Op dit oogenblik scheen de blanke onze nadering\nte bespeuren; hij richtte zich als verschrikt op, en tuurde naar ons,\nblijkbaar niet minder verrast dan wij zelve en naar 't mij voorkwam,\neerder angstig dan blij.\n't Duurde niet lang of ook de overige bewoners kregen ons in 't oog\nen allen liepen aan den anderen kant der breede beek te hoop, niet\nwetende, zooals de blanke ons later vertelde, of ze zouden blijven\nwachten of vluchten.\nAls er blanken onder hen leven, dacht ik, moet het ons natuurlijk\nveel gemakkelijker vallen ons met hen te verstaan dan met de overige\nnegerbevolking, en dus bond ik een witten lap aan een stok en zond\ner twee negers mee tot aan den oever, hen bevelende dit vredesteeken\nflink omhoog te houden. Het signaal werd onmiddellijk begrepen, en\nde blanke trad met twee negers zoo dicht mogelijk aan den anderen zoom.\nDaar de man echter geen Portugeesch sprak, konden ze elkaar slechts\ndoor gebaren en teekens eenigszins verstaan, maar onze negers beduidden\nhem dat er ook blanken bij ons gezelschap waren, waarop de \"witman\"\nzooals ze mij vertelden, gelachen had. Na korten tijd kwamen onze\nnegers terug met het bericht dat het allemaal goede vrienden waren,\nen na een poos begaven zich vier der onzen met twee inboorlingen\nen den Zwarten Prins naar den oever om zich nader met den blanke in\nverbinding te stellen.\nGeen tien minuten zullen verloopen zijn geweest of een der negers kwam\nnaar mij toegerend met het bericht dat de \"witman\" een \"Inglese\" was\nzooals hij hem noemde, waarop ik zoo gauw ik kon met hem naar de beek\nterugliep om werkelijk in den naakten vreemdeling een landgenoot te\nvinden. De man geraakte geheel van streek en drukte mij diep ontroerd\nbeide handen, terwijl de tranen hem langs het gezicht stroomden. Eer\nwij hem bij de beek ontmoetten, was de eerste verbazing over onze\nkomst al voorbij, maar ieder kan er zich wel een voorstelling van\nmaken, die het verhaal hoort van zijn allerellendigste omstandigheden\nen zijn wonderbaarlijke redding, z\u00f3\u00f3 wonderbaarlijk als geen tweede\nmensch ter wereld misschien beleefde, want het was duizend tegen \u00e9\u00e9n,\ndat hij ooit uit dien vreeselijken toestand verlost zou zijn geworden,\nwanneer wij niet na al onze ongehoorde lotgevallen als door een wonder\nmet hem in aanraking waren gekomen.\nUit allerlei kleinigheden: zijn houding, zijn wijze van spreken, zijn\ngeheele optreden, bleek mij dat hij een man van goede afkomst was,\nzelfs in zijn barbaarsche omgeving had hij het stempel der beschaving\nniet verloren.\nNaar schatting moest hij een kleine veertig jaar oud zijn, hoewel\nzijn lange baard en het slordige haar, dat voor een deel rug en borst\nbedekte, hem ouder deden schijnen. Zijn teere huid was geheel verbrand\nen hier en daar met blaren en schilfers bedekt door de felle hitte der\nzon. Sedert ruim twee jaar had hij het al, zooals hij ons vertelde,\ngeheel zonder kleeren moeten stellen.\nDe zenuwachtige blijdschap over onze ontmoeting wond hem z\u00f3\u00f3 op,\ndat hij nauwelijks in staat was den eersten dag rustig met ons te\npraten, en toen we hem, een paar uur na ons korte gesprek, alleen\nzagen rondloopen, maakte hij de dolste gebaren en bewegingen als om\nzijn niet te beheerschen blijdschap lucht te geven. Ja, zelfs nog\ndagen later sprongen hem telkens weer opnieuw de tranen in de oogen,\nwanneer we het onderwerp van onze gelukkige ontmoeting--en altijd\nkwamen we daarop terug--maar aanroerden.\nSteeds meer leerden we hem als een beleefd, goedhartig en edel mensch\nkennen. In al wat hij deed of zei de, trad zijn beschaafde aard aan\nden dag, en onze mannen toonden zich bijzonder met hem ingenomen. Hij\nhad een hoogeschool bezocht, was een goed wiskunstenaar en kon, al had\nhij dan geen Portugeesch geleerd, Latijn spreken met onzen chirurg,\nFransch met een onzer matrozen en Italiaansch met een ander.\nAanvankelijk bleek hij te onrustig van geest om ons te vragen waar we\nvandaan kwamen, hoe we in zulk een eenzamen streek waren verzeild en\nwat wel het doel van onzen tocht kon zijn; \u00e9\u00e9n ding scheen h\u00e9m genoeg:\ndat wij als door den hemel gezonden waren om hem te verlossen uit de\nellendigste positie waarin een mensch ooit kon gebracht worden.\nHOOFDSTUK IX.\nNAAR ENGELAND TERUG.\nTerwijl onze mannen ons kamp aan den oever der beek begonnen op te\nslaan, vroeg mijn landgenoot ons, of we voldoende proviand hadden\nen hoe we dachten ons van levensmiddelen te voorzien, en toen hij\nhoorde dat het daar vrij droevig mee gesteld was, beloofde hij ons\nmet de inboorlingen te spreken, die volgens hem de vriendelijkste\nen goedhartigste van de geheele streek waren. Dit bleek trouwens wel\nuit het feit dat hij veilig onder hen leven kon.\nDe ontmoeting met den blanke bezorgde ons allerlei voordeelen. Ten\neerste wist hij ons nauwkeurig te vertellen waar we ons bevonden en in\nwelke richting we het best verder konden trekken; ten tweede wees hij\nons de middelen aan om aan proviand te komen, en ten derde werd hij een\nonmisbaar tolk en onderhandelaar tusschen ons en de verdere bevolking,\ndie zich, toen we later de kust naderden, veel sluwer, ontwikkelder\nen strijdlustiger betoonde dan de bewoners langs de beek. Ze lieten\nzich door onze vuurwapens volstrekt geen ontzag inboezemen en bleken\nniet van zins hun voedsel voor de sieraden van onzen kunstsmid te\nruilen. Blijkbaar had de omgang met de Europeesche kusthandelaars of\nmet de negerstammen die met deze in aanraking kwamen, hen geleerd,\nhun voedsel alleen af te staan voor dingen die evenveel waarde hadden.\nDit gold wel te verstaan voor de negers die we spoedig zouden\nontmoeten; de zwartjes, waaronder mijn landgenoot driehonderd mijlen\nvan de kust woonde, waren nog volkomen argeloos. Hun gansche verkeer\nmet de Europeanen bestond daarin, dat ze in 't gebergte in 't noorden\nolifantstanden verzamelden, die ze zestig \u00e0 zeventig mijlen zuidwaarts\nvervoerden en daar bij handeldrijvende negers inwisselden voor kralen\nkettingen, schelpen, spiegeltjes, vliegendooders en dergelijke prullen,\ndie de Engelschen, Hollanders en andere Europeanen als ruilmiddelen\nbij hun Afrikaanschen handel gebruikten.\nLangzamerhand geraakten we met onzen nieuwen bekende op vertrouwelijker\nvoet en hoewel we zelf, wat onze kleeding betrof, maar een zeer\narmzaligen indruk maakten, daar we kousen, schoenen noch hoeden, en\nmaar heel weinig hemden meer bezaten, kleedden we hem toch nog zoo\ngoed en zoo kwaad als 't ging. Onze heelmeester die een schaar en\neen scheermes bezat, ontlaste hem van zijn overtolligen haargroei,\nen in plaats van een hoed, maakte hij zich, heel handig, een muts\nvan een luipaardenhuid, zoodat hij er weer als een mensch begon uit\nte zien. 't Gemis van kousen en schoenen die hij zoolang ontbeerd\nhad, hinderde hem zoo weinig, dat hij volstrekt niet op een paar\n\"voethandschoenen\", zooals wij ze noemden, gesteld bleek.\nEven nieuwsgierig als hij was om het verslag van onze wederwaardigheden\naan te hooren, even nieuwsgierig waren wij om te weten te komen hoe\nhij zoo geheel alleen in dit afgelegen oord gestrand was. Zijn verhaal\nwas belangwekkend genoeg om er een boekdeeltje als dit mee te vullen,\nen met groote belangstelling luisterden we naar zijn avonturen,\nmaar ik moet mij beperken tot een korte samenvatting.\nOnze nieuwe vriend was zaakwaarnemer geweest voor de Engelsche\nGuinea-compagnie te Sierra Leone, tot de factorij in handen der\nFranschen viel, bij welke gelegenheid hij zoowel van zijn eigen\nbezittingen als van het aanwezige kapitaal der maatschappij beroofd\nwerd. Toen de compagnie in gebreke bleef hem het verlorene te vergoeden\nen een nieuwe positie aan te bieden, verliet hij haar dienst en\nnam opdrachten aan van afzonderlijk handeldrijvende kooplieden,\nom ten slotte geheel voor eigen rekening zaken te doen. Eens, toen\nhij zich onvoorzichtigerwijze in een der nederzettingen van zijn\noude compagnie vertoond had, was hij, ten gevolge van verraad, of\nbij een toevallige overval der negers, in hun handen gevallen. Daar\nze hem niet doodden, had hij na verloop van tijd zijn kans schoon\ngezien naar een anderen negerstam te vluchten, die hem, omdat ze\nop oorlogsvoet met den eersten leefde, vriendelijk ontving en hem\nrustig onder hen deed leven. Ook hier beviel het hem natuurlijk\nniet op den duur en hij vluchtte opnieuw. Na zoo verscheidene malen\nvan omgeving en gezelschap veranderd te zijn, was hij eindelijk, na\nallerlei wonderlijke lotsverwisselingen, ongewapend en zonder nog\neenige hoop op uitkomst te hebben behouden, verzeild waar wij hem\nvonden en waar het opperhoofd van den kleinen stam hem vriendelijk\nontvangen had. Tot dank voor de ondervonden gastvrijheid leerde hij\nhun hoe ze sommige gewassen konden teelen, nuttige gereedschappen\nmaken en voordeeliger voorwaarden bedingen bij de onderhandelingen\nmet de negers die olifantstanden met hen kwamen ruilen.\nEven berooid als hij was van kleeren, bleek hij dit ook wat bewapening\nbetrof. Hij bezat geweer, mes, zwaard, noch pijl en boog om zich tegen\nde wilde dieren die veel in de streek voorkwamen, te verdedigen. Toen\nwe hem vroegen hoe het kwam, dat hij niet beter op zijn veiligheid\nbedacht was, antwoordde hij: \"Na al wat ik heb geleden, is het\nleven mij ongeveer niets meer waard. Ik had me sinds maanden bij\nhet denkbeeld neergelegd, geen uitkomst meer te vinden, en in dat\nwanhopige bewustzijn, zou 't mij niet hebben kunnen schelen, wanneer\ner op de een of andere manier een einde aan mijn bestaan was gemaakt;\nja, ik zou er zelfs dankbaar voor zijn geweest. Daarbij leef ik hier\ngeheel afhankelijk van de genade van de negers, en die vertrouwen me\njuist omdat ik geen wapens draag. Om wilde dieren behoef ik me niet\nveel te bekommeren, ik verlaat mijn hut alleen in gezelschap van het\nopperhoofd en zijn mannen, die altijd hun lansen en bogen bij zich\nhebben. 't Gebeurt trouwens vrij zelden dat leeuwen of tijgers ons\noverdag naderen, en blijven de negers 's nachts van huis, dan slaan\nze even een hut op en stoken een vuur om de beesten op een afstand\nte houden.\"\nMet hem overleggende wat wij nu in de eerste plaats moesten doen om zoo\ngauw mogelijk de kust te bereiken, vertelde hij ons dat we ongeveer\nhonderd-en-twintig uur gaans verwijderd waren van dat gedeelte, waar\nzich de meeste Europeesche nederzettingen en factorijen bevonden,\nde zoogenaamde Goudkust. Op den weg daarheen zouden we evenwel\nzooveel vijandige negerstammen te bestrijden hebben, dat de kans aan\nprovisie te komen of het leven er af te brengen, naar zijn meening\nheel gering was.\n\"Maar er bestaan nog twee andere wegen,\" liet hij er op volgen \"en als\nik gezelschap gehad had, zou ik stellig langs allebei getracht hebben\nte ontkomen. De eene loopt vlak naar het westen en is wel langer,\nmaar niet zoo dicht- en niet zoo vijandig bevolkt. De andere komt\naan den Niger uit, dien we dan met kano's zouden kunnen afvaren.\"\n\"Precies wat ons eerste plan was!\" riep ik verheugd. Maar hij temperde\nmijn blijdschap door er ons op te wijzen, dat we om de rivier te\nbereiken een groot stuk woestijn en een uitgestrekt oerwoud moesten\ndoortrekken, wat wij stellig, ook bij de grootste volharding, op\ntwintig dagreizen moesten schatten.\n\"Levert het land hier geen paarden, ezels of buffels op, om bij zoo'n\ntocht gebruik van te maken?\" vroeg onze kanonnier, op onze trouwe\nlastdieren wijzende, waarvan er ons nog maar drie waren overgebleven.\n\"Neen,\" zei hij, \"die komen in dit gedeelte van Afrika in 't geheel\nniet voor. In het woud houden zich groote kudden olifanten op en in\nhet stuk woestijn veel tijgers, leeuwen, luipaarden, lynxen enz. De\nnegers trekken er altijd goed gewapend heen, om olifantstanden te\nverzamelen en meestal komen ze met een mooien buit terug.\"\n\"Maar op dien weg naar de Goudkust?\" vroeg ik, hartelijk verlangend\nin een door Europeanen bewoonde streek te komen, \"loopen daar geen\nrivieren, die onzen tocht kunnen vergemakkelijken? Voor die gevechten\nmet de negers zijn we niet bang. We weten langzamerhand wel hoe met\ndat volkje om te gaan, en als zij voedsel hebben, zullen we wel kans\nzien ons deel daarvan te bemachtigen. Wijs ons den weg maar, dan\nzullen wij dien met goed vertrouwen inslaan, en 't spreekt vanzelf\ndat we elkaar onder alle omstandigheden blijven bijstaan.\"\nHij verzekerde ons dat hij niets liever wilde dan zijn lot aan het onze\nverbinden en nam op zich, ons den weg te wijzen en wel zoo, dat we nog\nhier en daar een vriendschappelijken negerstam zouden ontmoeten, die\nons niet alleen goed behandelen maar er misschien voor te vinden zoude\nzijn ons tegen de vijandige horden bij te staan. En zoo besloten we\ndus allen met elkaar de zuidelijke reis naar de Goudkust te aanvaarden.\nTerwijl we den volgenden morgen allen bij-een-zaten om het verdere\nplan voor den tocht te beramen, voegde hij zich bij ons en begon ons\nzeer ernstig toe te spreken.\n\"Den ganschen nacht,\" zei hij, \"heb ik er over nagedacht, hoe wij ons\nallen eenigszins schadeloos zouden kunnen stellen voor de moeilijkheden\nen ontberingen die wij zoo langen tijd hebben doorstaan. Dit kan\nik jullie wel verzekeren, dat dit land, hoe woest en onherbergzaam\nhet er ook moge uitzien, tot een der rijkste gebieden der heele\naarde behoort. Er is hier geen beek die geen goud, geen woestijn\ndie niet een schat aan ivoor oplevert. Niemand kan benaderen, hoe\nrijk de mijnen zijn en welke onschatbare massa's goud de gebergten\nbevatten. Te oordeelen naar al de schepen, die de Europeanen hier\nheen zenden en naar het goudstof dat de rivieren en beken meevoeren,\nmoet de voorraad wel heel belangrijk zijn.\"\n\"Hoe ver zou zich dat rijke terrein wel uitstrekken?\" vroeg ik. \"De\nscheepvaart bepaalt zich toch maar tot een zeker gedeelte van de kust.\"\n\"De negers doorzoeken de rivieren van de kust af tot op een\nhonderdvijftig of twee honderd mijlen,\" antwoordde hij. \"Dikwijls\nblijven ze twee of drie maanden uit en brengen altijd een rijken\nbuit mee terug. Tot waar wij nu zijn komen ze nooit, en toch is hier\nzeker zooveel te vinden als dichter bij de kust. Als ik me de moeite\nhad willen getroosten er naar rond te zien en het bijeen te garen,\nzou ik, sedert mijne komst hier, wel een honderd pond goud hebben\nkunnen verzamelen. Maar ik zou niet geweten hebben wat er mee te\ndoen, nu ik alle hoop had opgegeven hier ooit vandaan te komen. Wat\nzou 't mij geholpen hebben, al had ik me in 't goudzand kunnen\nrondwentelen! De grootste schat kon mijn ellendig bestaan geen zier\nlichter of vroolijker maken. Ik had er zelfs geen stuk kleeren voor\nkunnen koopen, geen teug water om mij voor versmachten te bewaren! 't\nGoud heeft hier niet de geringste waarde,\" eindigde hij, \"en er zijn\nmenschen genoeg in die hutten daarginds, die een handvol stofgoud\nzouden verkwanselen voor een paar glazen kralen of wat schelpen.\"\nOm ons te bewijzen dat hij niet overdreef, haalde hij een ruwen aarden\npot, die in de zon gebakken was, en zette dien voor ons neer.\n\"Kijk,\" zei hij, \"dit is nu wat slijk uit deze streek; als ik gewild\nhad, zou ik er heel wat van hebben kunnen vergaren.\"\nDe pot bevatte naar onze schatting twee of drie pond stofgoud van\ndezelfde kleur als wij het vroeger hadden gevonden.\nToen we het bekeken hadden zei hij glimlachend:\n\"Nu ik al het mijne, zelfs mijn leven, als het eigendom van mijn\nbevrijders beschouw, verzoek ik jullie mij het genoegen te doen, dit\nvan mij aan te nemen. In ons eigen land zal het zijn waarde opbrengen,\nen op dit oogenblik voel ik voor 't eerst hevigen spijt er niet meer\nvan te hebben verzameld.\"\nToen hij weg was bleek, dat onze mannen, wien ik altijd vertaalde\nwat de Engelschman zeide, buitengewoon getroffen waren door zijn mild\naanbod, en we kwamen overeen dit goud bij onzen gemeenschappelijken\nschat te voegen en later stipt eerlijk te verdeelen. Hij van zijn\nkant moest dan echter ook--nu zijn lot zoo nauw met het onze verbonden\nwas--plechtig beloven, geen korreltje van 't goud dat hij nog vinden\nzou voor ons verborgen te houden.\nHadden we zijn raad opgevolgd, dan zouden we, alvorens den tocht naar\nde Goudkust te aanvaarden, eerst een uitstapje naar de noordelijke\nwoestijn en het groote woud hebben gemaakt om onze negers en nog eenige\nzwarten die hij mee zou sturen, elk een olifantstand te doen halen\nen dragen, tot we ze verder in onze kano's zouden kunnen meenemen om\nze aan de kust met groot profijt te verkoopen.\nOp mijn verzoek evenwel zagen we van dit plan af. 't Leek mij vrij\nwat voordeeliger onze negers goud te laten zoeken dan hun die geweldig\nzware tanden te laten meesleepen, en mijn landsman gaf zich gewonnen,\nhoewel hij ons graag de ontzaglijke tanden had laten zien, die daar\nvolgens zijn zeggen verspreid lagen.\nNog twaalf dagen bleven we aan de beek, gedurende welken tijd de\ninboorlingen zich buitengewoon gedienstig betoonden en ons vruchten,\npompoenen en een soort van wortels brachten, die er als onze peenen\nuitzagen maar anders smaakten. Ook voorzagen ze ons van verschillende\neetbare vogels, die we niet kenden. In 't kort, ze deelden, zeer\ngoedhartig, alles met ons wat zij hadden, zoodat we een onbezorgd\nen gemakkelijk leventje leidden waarvoor we hun uit dankbaarheid\ngelukkig maakten met de sieraden die onze fijnsmid weer ruimschoots\ngefabriceerd had.\nDen dertienden dag zetten we ons met onzen nieuwen vriend in\nbeweging. Bij ons vertrek zond de negerkoning nog twee zwarten\nnaar hem toe met een afscheidsgeschenk in den vorm van een voorraad\ngedroogd vleesch en deed de Engelschman hem als contra-beleefdheid\ndrie zilveren vogeltjes cadeau uit de werkplaats van onzen smid;\nwat de vorst blijkbaar als een hem waardig huldebewijs beschouwde.\nEindelijk dan sloegen we de zuid-zuidwestelijke richting in en vonden\nwij weldra, na een marsch van meer dan tweeduizend mijlen, de eerste\nrivier die naar 't zuiden liep. Dit riviertje--aanvankelijk was het\nniet meer dan een flinke beek--volgden we tot het wat meer water\nbegon te bevatten. Om de paar uur liep onze Engelschman eens naar den\noever toe om het zand van de bedding te onderzoeken, doch pas na een\nvollen dag loopens bracht hij een handvol mee en zei: \"Kijk!\" waarop\nwij werkelijk verscheiden goudkorrels tusschen het zand ontdekten.\n\"Nu moeten we aan 't werk gaan,\" meende hij, en onze negers twee\naan twee verdeelende, zette hij ze aan den arbeid, na ze gewezen\nte hebben hoe ze het zand op de ondiepe plaatsen moesten opscheppen\nen uitspoelen.\nDen eersten anderhalven dag brachten onze mannen ongeveer zes-en-dertig\nlood [2] goud bijeen, en daar we bemerkten dat de hoeveelheid toenam\nnaarmate wij verder kwamen, volgden we het stroompje drie dagen,\ntotaan de plek waar een andere beek in ons riviertje uitmondde. In\ndezen zijtak vonden we stroomopwaarts ook goud, zoodat we besloten\nonze hutten hier op te slaan en onzen tijd te verdeelen tusschen\ngoudwasschen en voor mondkost zorgen.\nDertien dagen bleven we hier aan 't werk, en onze knappe smid,\ndoor de lange oefening zoo handig geworden dat hij er letterlijk\nalles van fatsoeneeren kon, hamerde er maar lustig op los in dien\ntijd. Uit dungeslagen goud, want ons zilver en ijzer was op, maakte hij\nolifanten, tijgers, civetkatten, struisvogels, adelaars, kraanvogels\nen allerlei visschen die ons als altijd uitstekende diensten bewezen.\nIn een der neger-nederzettingen nam de aanvoerder ons zeer gastvrij\nop, en daar hij buitengewoon was ingenomen met de smeedproducten van\nonzen kunstenaar, verkocht deze hem een gouden olifantje voor een\nongehoorden prijs. Zijn Zwarte Majesteit rustte in zijn opgetogenheid\nniet, eer hij onzen smid een handvol stofgoud in ruil had gegeven. Naar\nschatting woog dit ruwe goud wel vier-en-twintig lood, terwijl aan\nhet dun geslagen olifantje hoogstens voor een gulden of tien goud zat.\nOnze smid was zoo onbaatzuchtig dit goud eerlijk bij den\ngemeenschappelijken voorraad te voegen, hoewel hij voor zijn\ninspanning en kunstvaardigheid zeker wel een extra belooning verdiend\nhad. Er bestond trouwens niet de minste reden gierig of hebzuchtig te\nzijn. Zooals onze nieuwe gids terecht opmerkte, konden wij--behoorlijk\nin staat om ons te verdedigen en met de vrije beschikking over onzen\ntijd--zooveel goud verzamelen als we slechts begeerden; wel honderd\npond per man als we geduld genoeg hadden.\n\"Ik verlang minstens even hard naar 't vaderland terug als een van ons\nallen,\" zei hij, \"maar wenschen jullie hier nog wat te blijven, dan\nben ik gaarne bereid. Ik zou dan evenwel voorstellen ons hoofdkwartier\nwat meer naar 't zuidoosten te verleggen. Daar vinden we voedsel\nin overvloed en kunnen we ons langs de verschillende riviertjes\nverspreiden en de streek afzoeken. In twee of drie jaar zullen we\ndan stellig een kapitaal bijeengebracht hebben.\"\nHoe verleidelijk dit plan ook klinken mocht, lachte het toch geen van\nons bizonder toe. 't Was er ons in den grond der zaak toch meer om\nte doen naar huis te komen dan rijk te worden, want het langer dan\neen jaar rondzwerven door woestijnen en tusschen wilde volksstammen\nen verscheurende dieren had ontzaglijk veel van onze krachten gevergd.\nToch wist mijn landgenoot, die in hooge mate de gave des woords bezat,\nons te overreden nog een half jaar in het goudland te vertoeven. Hij\nwees er ons op, hoe belachelijk het eigenlijk zou zijn de vruchten\nvan al onze ontberingen niet te plukken nu de oogsttijd eindelijk was\naangebroken; hoe de Europeanen met groote kosten schepen uitrustten en\nexpedities het land in zonden om, met opoffering van veel moeite en\ngeld, kleine voorraden goud te bemachtigen, terwijl wij, die ons als\n't ware aan de bron bevonden, met leege handen zouden wegtrekken. We\nwaren sterk genoeg het zoo noodig tegen de negerstammen op te nemen\nen zouden 't onszelf nooit vergeven, wanneer we, in ons eigen land\nteruggekeerd, slechts een honderdste van het goud meebrachten van\n't geen we zonder moeite hadden hunnen vergaren.\n\"Ik ben niet hebzuchtig van aard,\" eindigde hij, \"maar nu het in onze\nmacht staat ons voor de geleden tegenspoeden schadeloos te stellen en\nons een onbezorgde toekomst te verzekeren, acht ik me uit dankbaarheid\nvoor al 't geen jullie voor mij doet, verplicht, jullie op dit groote\nvoordeel te wijzen. Als we de zaak goed aanpakken en de negers ons\nflink helpen, kunnen we per hoofd misschien wel een honderd pond\nstofgoud en twee-honderd olifantstanden verzamelen, terwijl we,\nonmiddellijk naar de kust koersende, de eenige kans die ons in ons\nleven geboden wordt laten voorbijgaan.\"\nOnze heelmeester bezweek het eerst voor de verleiding van al\ndie schatten, en na hem de kanonnier. Wat mij betreft, ik voelde\nniets geen lust nog langer in dat verwenschte heete land te blijven,\ndoordat ik de waarde van het geld nauwelijks kende en wanneer het goud\nverdeeld was meer dan genoeg zou hebben naar mijn zin. Ik dacht het\nin Engeland uit te geven aan de noodige kleeren en wat pretmakerij,\nen dan weer dienst te nemen en op nieuwe avonturen uit te gaan.\nDaar de Engelschman, de heelmeester en de kanonnier echter grooten\ninvloed op de anderen hadden, lieten deze zich overtuigen en werd\ner besloten nog hoogstens een half jaar in de goudstreek te blijven,\nmaar dan ook onherroepelijk--tenzij we allen van gedachte veranderd\nwaren--naar onze geboortelanden terug te keeren.\nZoo trokken we dus nu nog eens weer vijftig mijlen naar 't zuidoosten,\nwaar we verscheiden stroompjes vonden, die allen van een bergrug in\n't noordoosten schenen te komen. De landstreek was hier desondanks\ndor genoeg, doch door de bemiddeling van onzen nieuwen vriend en\nons nooit falend ruilmiddel: de eigengemaakte sieraden, verkregen we\novervloedig voedsel.\nOp aanwijzing van onzen raadgever plantten onze negers hier ook ma\u00efs,\nen het zorgvuldig gietende, konden we de kolven na drie maanden\nal oogsten.\nZoodra ons kampement was opgeslagen, gingen we weer aan onze oude\nbezigheid: goud visschen in de kleine riviertjes, en onze Engelsche\nvriend wist ons hierbij zoo juist te leiden dat we hoogst zelden\nonverrichterzake thuiskwamen.\nToen we zoo geregeld aan den arbeid waren verzocht hij op een avond\nverlof met vier of vijf negers voor een veertien dagen uit te mogen\ntrekken. Hij wilde een excursie maken en onderzoeken wat het land\nin noordelijke richting zou opleveren. Natuurlijk zou het gevondene\neerlijk aan den gezamenlijken voorraad worden toegevoegd.\nNiemand had eenig bezwaar tegen het plan, en zelfs bekroop twee van ons\nde lust met hem mee te gaan, waarop ze, behoorlijk gewapend, van zes\nnegers en twee onzer buffels vergezeld en voor twee weken van proviand\nvoorzien, de reis aanvaardden, die om te beginnen naar den bergrug\nvoerde, vanwaar de tallooze riviertjes tot ons kwamen. Zooals ik later\nvan onze mannen hoorde, overzagen ze van den top dezelfde woestijn,\ndie ons vroeger zoo met afschrik had vervuld en die naar hun berekening\nwel een driehonderd mijlen breed en zeshonderd mijlen lang moest zijn.\nIn plaats van veertien, bleven ze twee-en-vijftig dagen uit, waarna\nze ons ongeveer zeventien pond stofgoud meebrachten, sommige korrels\nveel grooter dan we ze nog gezien hadden. Verder bestond de buit\nuit een vracht olifantstanden, die hij--gedeeltelijk goedschiks,\ngedeeltelijk kwaadschiks door de bewoners van den woestijnrand had\nlaten bijeenzamelen en naar ons kamp dragen. Toen we hen in de verte\nmet een twee-honderdtal negers zagen naderen, wisten we niet wat we\ner van denken moesten, maar de zaak werd ons duidelijk toen ze bij\nons kamp gekomen, hun last aan den ingang neerlegden.\nBehalve al die olifantstanden brachten ze ons nog twee mooie leeuwen-\nen vijf luipaardshuiden mee, allen van prachtige kwaliteit. Ondanks\ndit alles was onze Engelschman toch niet voldaan over zijn buit en\nverzocht hij ons er nog eens op uit te mogen trekken, overtuigd dan\nbetere zaken te zullen maken.\nNadat hij de negers die het ivoor getorst hadden, verblijd had met\neen belooning in den vorm van eenige gouden sieraden en een paar\ndagen rust had genomen, ondernam hij zijn tweede reis.\nBij deze gelegenheid wenschten nog meer onzer kameraads zich bij\nhem aan te sluiten, en met hun twintigen--tien blanken en tien\nzwarten--benevens de twee buffels om hun eetbare waar en ammunitie\nte dragen, ondernamen ze een nieuwen ontdekkingstocht in dezelfde\nrichting, zij 't dan ook niet langs dezelfde paden.\nDezen keer bleven ze maar twee-en-dertig dagen uit, in welken tijd ze\nniet minder dan vijftien luipaarden, drie leeuwen en verscheiden andere\nwilde dieren doodden en ruim vier-en-twintig pond stofgoud vergaarden.\nOnze nieuwe vriend kon er nu terecht op wijzen, dat onze tijd goed\nbesteed was geweest, want in de vijf maanden van ons oponthoud\nhadden we vijf en een kwart pond goud per hoofd bijeengebracht,\n't geen, gevoegd bij wat we reeds bezaten en bij wat onze fijnsmid\nverwerkt had, een aanzienlijke hoeveelheid mocht genoemd worden.\nMaar nu hadden we dan ook meer dan genoeg van ons zwervend bestaan,\nen met algemeene stemmen werd tot de reis naar de kust besloten,\ntoen mijn landsman glimlachend opmerkte, dat dit nu onmogelijk was,\nomdat het regenseizoen binnenkort zou beginnen.\nNa heel wat gemopper onderwierpen we ons aan het onveranderlijke en\nbegonnen we, van den nood een deugd makende, zooveel mogelijk proviand\nbijeen te garen, om--gedurende de twee gedwongen rustmaanden waarin\nwe bijna voortdurend op ons kamp zouden zijn aangewezen--tenminste\ngeen gebrek te lijden.\nGedurende dien natten mousson zwollen de kleine stroompjes z\u00f3\u00f3,\ndat ze haast niet te onderscheiden waren van groote rivieren. Het\nzou een prachtige gelegenheid zijn geweest om onze olifantstanden op\neen vlot te vervoeren, want de voorraad ivoor was langzamerhand zoo\naangegroeid--de negers en negerinnen uit den omtrek kwamen ze ons\ngraag voor een sieraad aanbieden--dat ik vreesde ze nooit mee naar\nde kust te zullen krijgen.\nZoodra het weer opklaarde, zei onze Engelsche vriend op een ochtend:\n\"Ik wil er nu niet weer op aandringen n\u00f3g langer hier te kampeeren,\nal blijf ik het vreemd vinden dat jullie zoo weinig waarde aan het\ngoud hecht en om zoo te zeggen niet eens bukken wilt om het op te\nrapen. Toch acht ik me verplicht jullie er opmerkzaam op te maken\ndat nu, na den grooten vloed, het meeste goud gevonden wordt. Als we\nnog een maand hier blijven, zullen jullie zien hoe duizenden negers\nzich over deze heele streek verspreiden om goud te wasschen voor de\nEuropeesche schepen aan de kust van Guinea. Het geweld waarmee het\nwater van de bergen stroomt, voert er altijd heel wat goud uit mee,\nen als we nu zorgen de inboorlingen v\u00f3\u00f3r te zijn, zult ge eens zien\nhoe'n schat hier te vinden is.\"\nVoor den zooveelsten keer uitstel dus! 't Ging ons aan 't hart, maar\ntoch--het vooruitzicht op zooveel voordeel, met een kleine opoffering\nvan tijd te behalen, deed ons nog eens besluiten gebruik te maken\nvan de ons geboden gelegenheid.\nEn het bleek al gauw dat hij niet te veel beloofd had. Zoodra het\nwater begon te zakken en de riviertjes tot binnen hun beddingen\nterugkeerden, vonden we langs de oevers zooveel aangespoeld goud,\ndat we na verloop van \u00e9\u00e9n maand niet minder dan zestig pond bijeen\nhadden. Niet zelden troffen we ook opmerkelijk groote korrels aan,\nen een onzer negers waschte zelfs eens een stuk goud uit het zand\nter groote van een kleine noot.\nNa die eerste vier, vijf weken werd het resultaat van onzen arbeid\nechter steeds geringer, daar de negers, mannen, vrouwen en kinderen\nvan alle kanten kwamen opzetten om de rivieren niet alleen, maar ook\nde heuvels af te zoeken.\nOnze fijnsmid, al zoo menigmaal onze redder, wist ons ook nu weer een\ngrooten dienst te bewijzen. Met den Engelschman als tolk, knoopte hij\nonderhandelingen aan met verschillende van die negers, 't geen ten\ngevolge had, dat ze telkens belangrijke hoeveelheden goud brachten\nom er zilveren of gouden sieraadjes voor in ruil te ontvangen, en de\nvraag naar die prullen werd z\u00f3\u00f3 groot, dat onze kunstenaar niet hard\ngenoeg kon werken om iedereen tevreden te stellen.\nToen we na drie maanden oponthoud, onzen totalen voorraad verdeelden,\nbleek dat ieder van ons ongeveer vier pond goud het zijne kon\nnoemen. Dankbaar en voldaan zetten we ons dan nu toch eindelijk naar\nde Goudkust in beweging, om te zien hoe we vandaar Europa zouden\nkunnen bereiken.\nVan dezen laatsten tocht wil ik in 't kort alleen nog vertellen,\ndat we nu eens vriendschappelijk, dan weer vijandig ontvangen werden\ndoor de verschillende negerstammen die we op onze reis ontmoetten. Een\nzeker negerkoning, die onzen Engelschen vriend vroeger had bijgestaan\nen nu door zijn vijanden gevangen was genomen, konden we, tot onze\nblijdschap, bevrijden en weer op den troon zetten in zijn rijk,\ndat ongeveer driehonderd onderdanen telde. Tot dank onthaalde hij\nons op zijn manier vorstelijk en gaf hij onzen Engelschman al zijn\nonderdanen mee om de olifantstanden te gaan halen, die wij hadden\nmoeten achterlaten. Ze droegen ze alle naar een rivier (waarvan ik\nden naam vergeten ben) en hielpen ons vlotten maken waarmee we in elf\ndagen een der Hollandsche nederzettingen aan de Goudkust bereikten\nen overgelukkig voet aan wal zetten. Onze voorraad tanden verkochten\nwe aan de Hollandsche factorij en schaften ons voor het verkregen\ngeld de noodige kleeren en andere benoodigdheden aan, niet alleen\nvoor ons zelf, maar ook voor een paar van onze negers die met ons mee\nwilden gaan. Onzen Zwarten Prins hergaven wij de volledige vrijheid,\nkleedden hem uit onze gemeenschappelijke kas, schonken hem anderhalf\npond goud, dat hij heel goed wist te gebruiken en namen ten slotte\nvan al onze Afrikaansche reisgenooten zeer hartelijk afscheid.\nOnze Engelsche vriend bleef nog eenigen tijd in de Hollandsche\nfactorij werkzaam en keerde toen met zijn rijkdom over Holland naar\nEngeland terug.\nMijn overige kameraden scheepten zich op een kleine bark in naar de\nPortugeesche factorijen in de buurt van Gambia, terwijl ik met twee\nnegers die ik bij me wilde houden naar Kaap Coast Castle trok. Hier\nnam ik passage naar Engeland, en in September betrad ik eindelijk, met\neen hart overvloeiende van dankbaarheid, weer den vaderlandschen bodem.\nINHOUD.\n       I.   Een moeilijke jeugd             5\n     III.   Rondom Madagaskar              44\n     VII.   Aan de Goudrivier             133\n    VIII.   Ontmoeting met een blanke     152\n      IX.   Naar Engeland terug           177\nAANTEEKENINGEN\n[1] Zie titelplaat.\n[2] Vroeger 1/2 ons.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's De avonturen van kapitein Bob, by Daniel Defoe", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  De avonturen van kapitein Bob\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, and the Online Distributed\nThe Augustan Reprint Society\n[DANIEL DEFOE]\nA SHORT NARRATIVE OF THE\nLife and Actions\nOf His GRACE\n_JOHN_, D. of Marlborough\n_Introduction by_\nPAULA R. BACKSCHEIDER\nPublication Number 168\nWilliam Andrews Clark Memorial Library\nUniversity Of California, Los Angeles\nGENERAL EDITORS\n  William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library\n  George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles\n  Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles\n  David S. Rodes, University of California, Los Angeles\nADVISORY EDITORS\n  Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan\n  James L. Clifford, Columbia University\n  Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia\n  Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles\n  Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago\n  Louis A. Landa, Princeton University\n  Earl Miner, Princeton University\n  Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota\n  Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles\n  Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library\n  James Sutherland, University College, London\n  H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles\n  Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library\nCORRESPONDING SECRETARY\n  Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library\nEDITORIAL ASSISTANT\n  Beverly J. Onley, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library\nTypography by Wm. M. Cheney\nINTRODUCTION\nOpinion is a mighty matter in war, and I doubt but the French think it\nimpossible to conquer an army that he leads, and our soldiers think\nthe same; and how far even this step may encourage the French to play\ntricks with us, no man knows.\n    Swift's _Journal to Stella_, 1 January 1711\n    ... the moment he leaves the service and loses the protection of\n    the Court, such scenes will open as no victories can varnish over.\n    Bolingbroke's _Letters and Correspondence_,\nThe career of John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, reflects the\npolitical battles of nearly thirty years of English politics. In an\nage when duplicity, intrigue, personality, and an immediate history of\nviolence characterized politics, John Churchill was a constant, steady\nmilitary success even while his political and personal fortunes\nalternately plunged and soared. His military ability insured his\nimportance to the Grand Alliance and his victories brought the\nreverence of the European powers opposing Louis XIV as well as that of\nhis own people, but, at the same time, his successes also assured his\ninvolvement with the fortunes of nearly every major English political\nfigure and movement in the years 1688 to 1712.\nMarlborough's military career spanned two periods. Aware of the danger\nof the \"exorbitant power of France\" and the corresponding danger to\nthe Protestant religion, disgusted with James's actions at the\n_Gloucester_ shipwreck and in dealing with Scottish Protestants,\nMarlborough had joined the bloodless shift to William of Orange. For\nWilliam, he led the English forces in Flanders in 1689 and in Ireland\nin 1690; in 1691 he was in charge of the British forces in Europe with\nthe rank of lieutenant-general. In January, 1692, however, Marlborough\nwas dismissed from all of his offices for a combination of reasons,\neach insufficient in itself but all too typical for him--open\nopposition to William's Dutch dominated army, rumors that he and\nSarah, his ambitious and sometimes presumptuous wife, were plotting\nAnne's usurpation of the throne, and dissension aroused between Anne\nand her sister Queen Mary by the quixotic Sarah. When rumors of a\nJacobite uprising began, Marlborough spent six weeks in the Tower.\nAlthough Marlborough was restored to political favor in 1698 partly as\na placatory gesture to Anne, it was 1701 before he resumed his\nmilitary career, this time as William's Commander-in-Chief and\nAmbassador Extraordinary to the United Provinces. In this second phase\nof his military career, he won every battle, took every fort that he\nbesieged, held the Grand Alliance together, broke the threatening\nsupremacy of France, and established England as a major power. Yet,\nduring these ten years, Queen Anne's ministry and Parliament underwent\nseveral major upheavals: the resulting shifts in policy and\npersonalities alternately inconvenienced and vexed Marlborough. The\nyear 1711 marked the culmination of warring factions and clandestine\narrangement, and Daniel Defoe's _A Short Narrative of the Life and\nActions of his grace, John, Duke of Marlborough_, published 20\nFebruary 1711, originated in this battle. (For discussion of\nauthorship, please see Appendix.)\nMuch that happened in these years can be unraveled back to Harley,\nEarl of Oxford. His influences and circuitous dealing emerge wherever\na close examination of politics is made.[1] Hiding his activities from\neven his closest associates, employing spies and journalists whose\npurposes seem contradictory, manipulating the House of Commons'\nradical October Club while preaching a \"broad bottomed\" moderate\ngovernment, and buzzing in the Queen's ear in a variety of ways,\nHarley was ready for any exigency. England had wanted peace since 1709\nwhen their insistence on \"no peace without Spain\" and on the XXXVII\nArticle asking for guarantees of three Spanish towns had rallied the\nFrench behind the war;[2] Marlborough's pleas that peace be made and\nSpain be dealt with later were ignored. Although Parliament voted\nMalplaquet a triumph, Marlborough's power and prestige were\nsystematically shorn away, and embarrassing decisions contrived to\nforce his resignation were effected.[3] Should Marlborough resign, a\nscapegoat for defeat or an unfavorable peace would be assured. By\n1710, foreign policy had changed--a growing interest in trade and\ncolonization urged Parliament to end a costly and now unnecessary war\nand had united the Tories, Jacobites, the Church party, as well as\nsuch diverse men as the Dukes of Argyll, Somerset, Newcastle, and\nShrewsbury, a Whig. With the election of the radical Tory majority\n(240 new members were seated) to the Commons in 1710 and the creation\nof twelve new peers,[4] Harley's job of using diverse elements to form\na moderate government became more complex. He found it expedient to\nestablish and maintain influence with groups ranging from the radical\nTory October Club to Swift's country squire and clergy _Examiner_\nreaders to moderate Whigs such as Shrewsbury. Moreover, Defoe had\nimpressed upon him the importance of assuring the nation that moderate\nand sensible men were at the bottom of all of the political\nchanges.[5] Harley, therefore, prepared for at least three apparently\nexclusive possibilities--prosecuting the war for several more years,\nnegotiating a peace with the Allies, or making a separate peace with\nFrance without the Allies. To keep all these possibilities alive,\nHarley had to remain in harmony with Marlborough. The general's\npopularity with the soldiers and the European powers and France's awe\nof his military prowess necessitated the appearance that Marlborough's\ncommand was secure. While the _Examiner_, with its Tory audience and\nits emphasis on pressure for peace, was essential to Harley, so were\nSwift's and Defoe's appeals for moderation at a time when sympathy for\nMarlborough was rampant and the call \"no peace without Spain\" was\nstill defended even by the October Club; for the same reasons he was\nglad to have Bolingbroke openly associated with the _Examiner_.\nJanuary of 1711 brought the decisive defeat at Brihuega which\neffectively took the issue of Spanish succession away; in the ensuing\nwitch hunt, Almanza and the peace talks of 1709 were revived to\ndistract the people. While these inquiries proceeded, England received\nword that France was ready to discuss terms. The delay between this (8\nFebruary) and France's formal proposal (2 May) was an anxious time for\nHarley and his schemers. Defoe was busy setting the stage for the\noutcome.\nWhile Swift, the high Tory, could easily set about discrediting\nMarlborough, the hero and standard bearer, and, by so doing, weaken\nthe Whig's position, Defoe's readers required different handling. His\nmost effective writing at this time was in pamphlets which reached a\nwider audience and which were not bound by the consistency of the\nReview. Defoe and Swift, primed with the Minister's inside knowledge,\nset about to discredit the Whig ministry in basically the same way. In\nthe 15 February _Examiner_, Swift wrote,\n    No Body, that I know of, did ever dispute the Duke of Marlborough's\n    Courage, Conduct, or Success; they have been always unquestionable\n    and will continue to be so, in spight of the Malice of his Enemies,\n    or which is yet more, the Weakness of his Advocates. The Nation\n    only wished to see him taken out of ill Hands, and put into better.\n    But, what is all this to the Conduct of the late Ministry, the\n    shameful Mismanagements in Spain, or the wrong Steps in the Treaty\nDefoe remarks, \"our General wants neither Conduct or Courage\" and\ndescribes his greatest successes as \"daughters to preserve his Memory\"\nwhile dissociating him somewhat from the Jacobites, Whigs, and\n\"business of [making] peace and war.\" When the _Review_ finally\ndiscusses Marlborough's fall, Defoe suggests that the \"greatest Guilt\n... is the Error in Policy, and Prudence among his Friends.\"[7] Both\nwriters presented the Duke as a means to an end and discredited him on\npersonal grounds (avarice, ambition) thereby protecting the military\nhero and the newborn glory of England fathered by his victories.[8]\nFaced with Dissenters and moderate Whig readers, Defoe's _Review_ had\nto seem to oppose Swift's _Examiner_ with its sneers at trade; not only\nmust it be consistent but it was obliged to shift its readers'\nattention more slowly to the earlier failures of the Whig ministry and\nthe rich commercial advantages gained in the separate peace.\nThe _Life of Marlborough_ is part of a stream of pamphlets which Defoe\nwrote supporting the Harley administration; _A Supplement to the Faults\non Both Sides_, a discussion of the Sacheverell case by two \"displac'd\nofficers of state,\" _Rogues on Both Sides_, a study in contrasts\nbetween old and new Whigs, and old, high flyer, and new Tories, and _A\nSeasonable Caution to the General Assembly_ were published immediately\nbefore and after. That same year, his pamphlets discuss the October\nClub, the Spanish succession, \"Mr. Harley,\" and the state of religion.\nBy summer when the peace was nearly assured though still secret, Defoe\nwas writing _Reasons for a Peace; Or, the War at an End_.\nTaken in chronological order, Defoe's 1711 pamphlets indicate two\nemerging directions: first, the reasons for ending the war become more\npositive and entirely unconcerned with the General, and, second,\nDefoe's comments about the Duke become less wholeheartedly admiring,\nespecially in _No Queen; Or, No General_. _Rogues on Both Sides_ is\nwitty praise for moderate men who act \"according to English principles\nof Law and Liberty regardless of People and Party\" rather than\nbelieving any demagogue who \"cries it rains butter'd Turnips.\" After\nthis, the pamphlets become more informative and solemn--Defoe\ndemonstrates Whigs and Tories want the same things and that the country\nbleeds to death. _Armageddon; or the Necessity of Carrying on the War_\n(30 October 1711), _Reasons Why This Nation Ought to put a speedy End\nto this Expensive War_ (6 October), and _Reasons for a Peace: or, the\nWar at an End_, for example, catalog the economic ailments--taxes,\npirates, hard to replace sailors and soldiers killed, but far worse, a\ndecline in trade resulting in closed shops and declining manufacturing\nincreasing unemployment--\"the whole Kingdom sold to Usury\" and\n\"Consumption of the Growth of the Country.\" As the year passed, Defoe\nmentioned Marlborough less and less, but the General's possible\nmistakes were progressively forced into balance with his victories.\nWhile seeming to be moderate, Defoe both tempers his readers' opinions\nof the Duke and turns their attention to other issues.\nThe techniques and movement in _No Queen: Or, No General_ (10 January\n1712) parallel the techniques and movement in the 1711 pamphlets. In\nthis 1712 pamphlet, Defoe's double-edged balance sheet is most obvious;\nin the first six pages he lists the charges against the General which\nhe will not discuss--this reminds his readers of every possible failing\nand, because of the language (\"I'le forbear to lessen his Glorious\nCharacter by Reckoning the Number of the Slain, or counting the Cost of\nthe Towns\"), the significance of each \"ignored\" charge is increased.\nDefoe recounts the economic issues at stake and insists that when\nMarlborough's \"blinded party\" made him its representative, regardless\nof his intentions, he became a formidable threat to the Queen and had\nto be removed. The pamphlet gradually turns to the destructiveness of\nparty factions and by the patriotic ending (\"Alas, what a Condition\nwere Britain in if her Fate depended upon the Life, or Gallantry, or\nMerit, of one Man\"), Marlborough is no longer an issue.\nIn the _Life_, Defoe defends the general from the charge of avarice,\nthe most plausible charge that the journalists were propagating.\nMarlborough's courage and skill had also been called into question in\nsuch papers as _The Post Boy_, and a spurious debate raged which could\nonly injure Marlborough over the gratitude of the nation. Defoe alludes\nto pamphlets which impugn great men and represent them as \"unworthy of\nthe Favour of the Prince\" slanting the charge that Marlborough had been\nrewarded perhaps too bountifully in order to imply that such writers\nwere malicious, uninformed, and ungrateful. Furthermore, Defoe says,\nMarlborough deserved his reward, having bought it at a dear rate, and\nit was no more than what \"in all Times belong'd to Generals.\" Indeed,\nMarlborough's successor, the Duke of Ormond, received the same bread\nperquisite and percentage of foreign pay, but Defoe chooses to \"defend\"\nMarlborough not with comparable facts which would destroy the\ncredibility of the attacking group, but rather with passing references\nto the two other generals with whom he had to divide the money and with\nthe profits of sea captains and petty clerks in yards and stores! With\ndescriptions of the fitting appearance for generals and Marlborough's\nsobriety in the field, Defoe tips the scales in Marlborough's favor.\nThat he ends the section with\n    Indeed Generals, tho' the most accomplish'd Heroes, are but Men,\n    they are not Infallible, but may be mistaken as well as other\n    Mortals, they are subject to Faults and Infirmities as well as\n    their Fellow-Creatures; but then their great Services for the good\n    of their Country ought to be cast into the Ballance, against their\n    humane Mistakes; and not only Charity, but Self-consideration\n    should give them very good Quarter, unless their Faults are prov'd\n    to be Wilful and Contumacious.(38)\nis a paradigm of his technique. Coming immediately after this defense,\nthe argument that his victories should be \"cast in the Ballance\" is\nsomewhat degrading and implies that Marlborough may have been mistaken\nin what he did and even leaves the question open with the phrase\n\"unless their Faults are prov'd Wilful and Contumacious.\"[9] The\nfollowing paragraph, however, opens the subject of Marlborough's\ninvincibility. Under the guise of wondering what an ungrateful nation\nwould do should he lose a battle, Defoe brings Marlborough's perfect\nrecord, his piety, and the esteem France and his soldiers had for him\nto our attention. The paragraph before, then, may be taken to introduce\nDefoe's concern--even Marlborough could be mistaken in battle and lose,\nand what would such a nation do then? The paragraph on the whole\nreflects on the nation and is an eloquent defense of the Duke--he is\nhuman, human beings make mistakes and his great good should excuse him\neven more than an ordinary man's mistakes should be forgiven.\nHarley knew that Marlborough was essential until peace negotiations\nwere secured. Marlborough had distrusted Harley throughout 1710, but he\nalso knew that Harley's stakes in a moderate government were great. In\n1711, Rochester and the October Club began to challenge Harley, and\ntheir demands alarmed even Queen Anne. The Queen, Bolingbroke, and\nHarley all wrote Marlborough conciliatory letters. Marlborough answered\nin kind and his letter after Harley was stabbed expresses deep concern.\nHarley became increasingly convinced that only peace would preserve his\npower, and Marlborough's power and reputation were essential for an\nacceptable peace. As late as July, Harley's letters to Marlborough are\nrespectful and deceitfully warm:\n    My lord; I received from the hands of lord Mar, just as I came from\n    Windsor, the honour of your grace's letter, and I am not willing to\n    let a post pass, without making your grace my acknowledgments. It\n    is most certain, that you can best judge what is fit to be proposed\n    upon the subject you are pleased to mention....\n    I hope it will be needless to renew the assurances to your grace,\n    that I will not omit any thing in my power, which may testify my\n    zeal for the public, and my particular honour and esteem for your\n    grace; and I doubt not, but when the lord you mention comes, I\n    shall satisfy him of the sincerity of my intentions towards your\nHarley's perfidy allowed him to assure Marlborough he would \"never do\nany thing which shall forfeit your good opinion\" while pretending to\nplan to restore Marlborough to the Queen's confidence. Further, when\nMarlborough appealed to him to silence the libellous attacks by\njournalists, Harley replied, \"I do assure your grace I neither know nor\ndesire to know any of the authors; and as I heartily wish this\nbarbarous war was at an end, I shall be very ready to take my part in\nsuppressing them.\"[11] Details about the financing of Woodstock and\nmutual friends crop up in the letters. So successful is Harley's\ndeception that when Sir Solomon Medina accuses Marlborough of graft,\nMarlborough writes Harley:\n    Upon my arrival here, I had notice that my name was brought before\n    the commissioners of accounts, possibly without any design to do me\n    a prejudice. However, to prevent any ill impression it might make,\n    I have writ a letter to those gentlemen ... and when you have taken\n    the pains to read the inclosed copy, pray be so kind as to employ\n    your good offices, so as that it may be known I have the advantage\n    of your friendship. No one knows better than your lordship the\n    great use and expence of intelligence, and no one can better\n    explain it; and 'tis for that reason I take the liberty to add a\n    farther request, that you would be so kind to lay the whole, on\n    some fitting opportunity, before the queen, being very well\n    persuaded her majesty, who has so far approved, and so well\n    rewarded my services would not be willing they should now be\n    reflected on.[12]\nDefoe points out that criticism of the Duke \"may prove Dangerous and\nFatal\" and the joy in the French court at each step in Marlborough's\nfall reinforces Defoe's and Harley's opinion[13] Defoe recounts\nMarlborough's greatest military victories beginning as far back as his\ncampaign in Brabant (reminding his readers of possible wealth gained\nthrough a shipwreck and of the betrayal of Dunkirk as he goes along),\nincludes descriptions of his exemplary behavior including regular\nprayers for the Camp, and praises Marlborough as a \"finish'd Hero.\" The\nconclusion to the pamphlet warns the nation again of Marlborough's\nimportance; his battles are bringing the enemy to \"reason,\" procuring\n\"an honorable and lasting peace.\" References to the detrimental effect\nof discrediting the general are found intermittently throughout the\npamphlet in allusion to Hannibal.\nDefoe, then, served Harley's purposes well. He defended Marlborough and\nshored up his prestige in a time when it was important for the French\nto think that Marlborough could prosecute the war freely. As a known\nemployee of Harley's, Defoe furthered Marlborough's impression that\nHarley could be depended upon.[14] Finally, he began to prepare the\nmoderate Whigs for peace by presenting the economic considerations and\ndisassociating Marlborough from the Queen's and the ministry's\n\"business of peace.\"\nThe possibility that Defoe acted independently in this writing cannot\nbe discounted.[15] Defoe had praised Marlborough since the beginning of\nhis career and the extent to which he and Godolphin adopted William's\npolicies added to Defoe's admiration; admiration is clear in this\npamphlet. Defoe had worked for Godolphin and Sunderland, and may have\nused \"by an Old Officer in the Army\" as a disguise from Harley or even\nas a means of publishing independently. That Defoe resented attacks on\nhis hero can hardly be doubted--the _Review_ and his pamphlets are\na catalog of the general's triumphs, and no where does he attack\nunequivocably; even in _No Queen_ he puts chief blame on rumors and on\nMarlborough's party. Harley's failure to make permanent provisions for\nDefoe may suggest some dissatisfaction, but even if the possibility\nthat the _Life_ was not expressly ordered by Harley is considered, it\nis noteworthy that nothing in it is offensive to Harley, and, more\nimportant, remarkable that it serves Harley's needs and ends at the\ntime so well.\nDefinitely Defoe's, however, are veiled but telling attacks on Swift\nand his type. Although the purpose of the _Examiner_ was to \"furnish\nMankind, with a Weekly Antidote to that Weekly Poison,\"[16] Defoe\nparodied this by saying his pamphlet was to \"undeceive the People.\" The\n\"base Pamphleteers\" are labeled uninformed and ungrateful; they have\nno way of making right judgments in the matter of perquisites and\nsoldier's pay; they go out to see a battlefield as they might a well\nlaid-out garden, and, of course, their \"Mouths go off smartly with a\nWhiff of Tobacco\" (an obvious ridiculing contrast to the cannon fire of\nthe real fighters).\nFurthermore, compared to attacks on Marlborough in libels such as _The\nDuke of M***'s Confessions to a Jacobite Priest_, _The Land-Leviathan_:\n_or_, _the Modern Hydra_, and _The Perquisite Monger_, Defoe's pamphlet\nwas exemplary in its moderation. Even Swift's attacks are moderate\nbeside the majority of these 1711-12 pamphlets; not even he conjured\nup memories of regicide and rebellion as did the more numerous and\nlibellous pamphleteers. For example, _The Mobb's Address to my Lord\nM***_ (1710) linked Marlborough to Sacheverell and assured the Duke his\n\"most dutiful Mobb, will use our utmost Care and Diligence to raise all\nriotous and tumultous Assemblys, and with undaunted Vigour ... oppose\n... all who will keep up the Authority of the Crown.\" _Oliver's\nPocket Looking Glass_ (1711) while more erudite was scarcely less\ninflammatory--shades of Cromwell were called up, a \"Colossus\" with an\n\"Army compos'd of almost all nations\" faced the \"body politic.\"\nThe _Life_ exemplifies many of Defoe's life long interests and opinions\nand points to the fiction he was to write. Virtues espoused throughout\nhis career are praised here. Ingratitude was a deplorable but all too\ncommon failing of mankind--that Marlborough should be \"undervalued and\nslighted\" was \"no new Thing, all the Histories of the World are full of\nExamples to this purpose\" and his greatness provides but a mark at\nwhich the envious may shoot. In _Atalantis Major_ Defoe elaborates on\nthe causes of the nation's ingratitude: the debt was too great for\npayment and resentment was the natural result. A second interest was\nthe military hero; much of Defoe's fiction--_Memoirs of a Cavalier_,\n_Captain Singleton_, for instance--involved military men, and\nMarlborough along with King Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, another\nsoldier who scorned the conventional seventeenth century chess game\ntactics, furnished a model. The \"finish'd Hero\" described includes all\nof the virtues of Defoe's fictional leaders from Robinson Crusoe to\nJohn in _Journal of the Plague Year_ to the Cavalier--\"Prudent, and\nVigilant, and Temperate, Alert, and industrious, with an humble\nSubmission to the Will of the Almighty\" (26), \"Temperate, Sober,\nCareful, Couragious, Politick, Skilful, so he is Courteous, Mild,\nAffable, Humble, and Condescending to People of the meanest Condition\"\n(45). The Duke's virtues as well as Gustavus's enable the reader of\n_Memoirs of a Cavalier_ and _The Memoirs of Captain George Carlton_ to\njudge the commanders as Defoe would have. Above all, the \"assured\nSkill\" and \"daring Courage\" appealed to Defoe--Robinson Crusoe's\ncampaigns against the cannibals and in the Far East repeat the daring,\nrisk-all quality of Ramilles. Defoe's enjoyment of marching vicariously\nover great battles has led biographers such as J. R. Moore to say that\nit was unfortunate his military genius was never used,[17] and is\nobvious in almost all of his fiction. So skillful are his descriptions\nthat J. H. Burton pauses to note \"the character and claims of a book\n(_Memoirs of Capt. George Carlton_, 1728) that has afforded him\nvaluable instruction on the general character of the war, along with\nspecial instructions in its leading events.\"[18]\nDefoe's _Life_ was his first biography; other \"memoirs\" of the Duke of\nMelfort (1714), Daniel Williams (1718), and Major Ramkins (1719)\nsuggest the progression to _The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures\nof Robinson Crusoe_ (1719) and two other lives in that same year.\nDefoe's sometimes troublesome skill with narrative voices is, in the\n_Life_, a shadow of the competence displayed in _Moll Flanders_.\nAlthough the \"old Officer's\" voice is sustained and there are excellent\ntouches, the distinctiveness and absorbing intimacy are only hinted at.\nThe polemist appeals too apparently to his readers while the opening\npages approach a declamation. The persona protests that he doesn't\n\"pretend in this Narrative to Inform the great People at Court,\nconcerning this thing,\" and that he writes only for the common people.\nDefoe does limit carefully his material to events which were common\nknowledge or would have been open to an old soldier--while he describes\nthe key maneuver of Ramilles, he certainly lacks a complete overview.\nMany of the virtues praised would appeal most strongly to men who might\nhave been common foot concerned with regular bread, a well-run camp,\nand a conscientious strategist, or to simple, pious women glad to hear\nthat their general prayed and provided Sunday sermons. Allusions to\nSatan, \"the cunning engineer,\" Solomon, and Moses were common enough,\nwhile those to Hannibal and Raleigh had been exploited in Defoe's\nother writing. Perhaps the most graphic section in this voice is the\ndescription of the common soldier's misery in a rainy season march and\nsiege. A few passages have the confidential, gossipy tone of ordinary\npeople around a tavern table--Sarah was admired abroad, but in her own\ncountry it was said she was \"guilty of more Folly than a Retainer to\nthe College in Moore-Fields,\"[19] an experienced old general knows more\ncoffeehouse quarterbacks, and the soldier naively speculates with\nrelish how \"my Lord\" narrowly escaped being \"torn in Pieces\" for the\nrumor that he spoke words which would be \"brutal from the mouth of\na Porter.\" Naive arguments (no man would continue in so hard an\nundertaking from selfish motives), sincere patriotism (defense of his\nKing and Queen and praise for a nation \"with a generous Race of Warlike\nPeople\" ready to risk their lives), and honest indignation at\n\"barbarous Lies\" authenticate the narrator.\nDefoe's writing--fiction and non-fiction--is all of a piece. The same\nsubjects and opinions reoccur and the techniques and style are nearly\nindistinguishable. Expository material alternates with narrative\nexamples (which may in turn be followed by a paragraph or two drawing a\nconclusion or a \"moral\") in all of his writing. The primary difference\nis in the length of the narrative examples--in the fiction they are\nnaturally much longer. Over the years, they become increasingly\ndramatic as may be seen in books such as _The Fortunate Mistress_ and\n_Conjugal Lewdness_. _A Short Narrative_ conforms to this structural\npattern. Sentences which direct the reader's attention to this\nstructure are common. For instance, Defoe defends Marlborough's courage\nwith descriptions of the battle of Brabant, Ramilles, references to\nHannibal, and concludes, \"And thus then you see, that our General wants\nneither Conduct or Courage.\" Defoe's skill with these short, dramatic,\nillustrative examples developed with the years. Defoe was always\nconcerned with presenting a case clearly and persuasively. Clearly\nmarked structure and \"reasonable\" conclusions alternate with anecdotes\nand reminiscences intended to hold the reader's interest and dramatize\nDefoe's points.[20]\nDefoe's _Life of Marlborough_ serves as a kind of barometer for the age\nand for Defoe. A reliable if sketchy list of the Duke's military\nsuccesses and the major charges raised against him at various times\nduring his life may be matched to the struggles in the English\ngovernment and on the continent. The time had nearly come for the\nJacobites, whom Marlborough had offended by deserting James, and the\nTories, who had long thought him a presumptuous general and a former\nTory (or a lukewarm Tory as Marlborough might have thought himself) who\nhad perverted a Tory Queen, brought the Bill of Occasional Conformity\nto defeat, and driven Tories out of office, to collect the debt that\nthey felt Marlborough owed them. The biography, written in the interim\nbetween two foreign policies when so many momentous plans were\nproceeding backstage, mirrors the age. It is also a barometer by which\nDefoe's development can be measured; his journalistic involvement and\nemployment, his non-fiction techniques as well as his progress toward\nthe fiction are implied.\n  Rollins College\n  Winter Park, Florida\nNOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION\n 1. Harley as a \"trickster is a doctrine as deeply rooted in historical\nopinion as the military skill of Marlborough and the oratorical\naccomplishments of Bolingbroke.\" John Hill Burton, _A History of the\nReign of Queen Anne_ (New York: Scribner & Welford, 1880), iii, p. 71.\nSee also Elizabeth Hamilton, _The Backstairs Dragon: A Life of Robert\nHarley, Earl of Oxford_ (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1969).\n 2. Winston S. Churchill, _Marlborough; His Life and Times_ (New\nYork: Scribner's, 1938), vi, pp. 85-6.\n 3. Marlborough was systematically deprived of the men upon whom he\nrelied most. The ministry took over Army promotions and dismissed\nexisting officers under the guise of protecting the Queen. Churchill,\n 4. Burton, iii, pp. 92-3.\n 5. Defoe to Harley, July 28, 1710. George Healey, ed., _The Letters\nof Daniel Defoe_ (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1955).\n 6. _Examiner_, February 15, 1711. Herbert Davis, ed., _The Prose\nWorks of Jonathan Swift_ (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1940), p. 87.\n 7. Defoe's _Review_, January 22, 1712.\n 8. Cf. discussions of this in John Ross, _Swift and Defoe: A Study\nin Relationship_ (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1941);\nRichard I. Cook, _Jonathan Swift as A Tory Pamphleteer_ (Seattle:\nUniversity of Washington Press, 1967), and Irvin Ehrenpreis, _Swift:\nThe Man, His Works and the Age_ (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,\n 9. This is similar to an argument Defoe uses to distinguish between\ntypes of debtors in the _Review_ (iii, 83-4 and 397-400). Whether or\nnot the crime was \"Wilful\" was very important to Defoe; perhaps his\nrevised opinion of Marlborough as most obvious in his tribute to him\nat his death is the result of his change of opinion about Marlborough's\nmotives and removing him from the list of heroes who possessed the\n\"courage of honor\" as described in _An Apology for the Army_.\n10. William Coxe, _Memoirs of John, Duke of Marlborough with his\nOriginal Correspondence_ (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme & Brown,\n13. The advantage France gained from Marlborough's fall and their\ncomplete awareness of it is discussed in Churchill, vi, pp. 462-69.\n14. Coxe, vi, p. 126; Hamilton, p. 172, and _The Letters and Dispatches\nof John Churchill, First Duke of Marlborough_ (London: John Murray,\n15. J. R. Moore, _Daniel Defoe: Citizen of the Modern World_ (Chicago:\nU. of Chicago Press, 1958), pp. 255-56; Defoe's _An Appeal to Honor and\nJustice_; and Chalmers says Defoe wrote what \"either gratified his\nprejudices or supplied his needs.\"\n16. Davis, \"_A Letter to the Examiner_,\" p. 221.\n19. Bedlam and Grub Street as the colleges in the vicinity of\nMoorefields were standard jokes. Moorfields was also associated with\ncheap lodging, prostitution, theft, and the Pesthouse Burying Ground,\naltogether an unhealthy environment.\n20. Defoe discusses this in _Robinson Crusoe_, _Serious Reflections_,\nand a _Collection of Miscellaney Letters_ and several other places. He\nsays, for example:\nThe custom of the ancients in writing fables is my very laudable\npattern for this; and my firm resolution in all I write to exalt\nvirtue, expose vice, promote truth, and help men to serious reflection,\nis my first moving cause and last directed end.\n    (Preface to the Review)\nThings seem to appear more lively to the Understanding, and to make a\nstronger Impression upon the Mind when they are insinuated under the\ncover of some Symbol or Allegory, especially where the moral is good,\nand the Application obvious and easy.\n    (_Collection of Miscellaney Letters_, iv, 210)\n21. For this and many other examples of Defoe's distinguishing\nqualities in this appendix, I am deeply indebted to the late Professor\nJohn Robert Moore.\nBIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE\nThe facsimile of Defoe's _A Short Narrative of ... Marlborough_ (1711)\nis reproduced from a copy (Shelf Mark: *PR3404/S5451) in the William\nAndrews Clark Memorial Library. The total type-page (p. 7) measures\nA SHORT NARRATIVE OF THE\nLife and Actions Of His GRACE\nJOHN, D. of _Marlborough_,\nFROM THE Beginning of the REVOLUTION,\nto this present Time.\nWITH SOME REMARKS on his CONDUCT.\n_By an Old Officer in the Army._\n_LONDON_,\nPrinted for _JOHN BAKER_, at the _Black-Boy_ in _Pater-noster-Row_,\nPrice Six-Pence.\nA short NARRATIVE OF THE ACTIONS\nOf his GRACE _John_, Duke of _Marlborough_.\nSeeing the Press is open, and every body dares Write and Publish what\nhe pleases, and Persons of the highest Honour and Virtue, to the great\nShame and Scandal of our Country, are expos'd to the World, in base\nPamphlets; and according to the Malice or Misunderstanding of the\nAuthors, are represented to the World unworthy of the Favour of the\nPrince, as well as Obnoxious to the Common-Wealth, in which they live:\nIt becomes every honest Man, who knows more of the Matter, to set\nthings in a true Light, to undeceive the People, as much as he is able,\nthat they may be no longer impos'd on by such false Reports, which in\nthe end may prove Dangerous and Fatal.\n_There is nothing new_, saith Solomon, _under the Sun_; the same Causes\nwill always produce the same Effects; and while Mankind bear about\nthem, the various Passions of Love and Joy, Hatred and Grief, the\ncunning Engineer, that stands behind the Curtain, will influence and\nwork these Passions according to his Malice, to the destruction of\nPersons of highest Worth.\nI shall therefore give a _short Narrative_ of the _Actions_ of the most\nIllustrious _John_ Duke of _Marlborough_, with some Reflections on\nthem, that People may not wonder how it comes to pass, that such a\nGreat Captain, equal no doubt to any in all Ages, considering the\nPowers whom he has Oppos'd, after all his Victories, should be\nrepresented in the publick Writings of the Town, as over-Honoured and\nover-Paid for all his past Services, and neglected and almost forgotten\nin the midst of all his Triumphs, and his Name almost lost from the\nMouths of those People, who for several Years last past, and not many\nMonths since, have been fill'd with his Praises.\nThe first time that I had the Honour of seeing _John_, Earl of\n_Marlborough_, (for so I shall call him till he was created a Duke) was\nat a place call'd _Judoigne_ in _Brabant_, where our Army was Encamp'd,\nI think about three Months after the late King was Crown'd. He was sent\nover the King's Lieutenant, with the _British_ Forces under his\nCommand, which could then be spared for that Service. Our united Forces\nwere Commanded in general, by the Old Prince _Waldeck_.\nAfter several Marches, we came to the Confines of _Haynault_, within a\nLeague of a small Town call'd _Walcourt_, and on St. _Lewis_'s Day, a\nSaint suppos'd to be prosperous to the _French_ Nation, their Army,\nCommanded by Mareschal _d'Humiers_, very betimes in the Morning,\nMarched to Attack us.\nAn _English_ Colonel guarded a Pass towards the aforesaid little Town,\nto which the Enemy bent their Course; and being in Distress, was\nreliev'd by my Lord in Person, who ordred his Retreat to such an\nAdvantage, that he flank'd the Enemy with perpetual Fire; and this was\nthe first Cause that cool'd them in their Design of pushing our Army.\nAt his return, the Prince receiv'd him with a great deal of\nSatisfaction, and assured him that he would let the King know that he\nsaw into the Art of a General more in one Day, than others do in a\ngreat many Years.\nAt the end of this Campaign, my Lord _Marlborough_ was ordered, with\nhalf of the Forces under his Command, to Embark for _Ireland_; where I\ncome to relate what he performed there: As soon as he arrived in the\nHarbour of _Kingsale_, having Landed his Forces, without the least loss\nof Time, Marched directly to the Fort or Citadel of that Place, which\nis a strong Fortification, and at that time, well provided with a good\nGarrison, and all things necessary for a strong Defence.\nMy Lord did not stand to use Forms with them, which might look like a\nSiege; but with a conquering Resolution, and perpetual Volleys, so\nterrified them, that they soon Surrendred.\nAnd now at this Place it was where the Duke's Actions began to be\nEnvied, and evil Reports touching his good Name and Reputation were\nindustriously spread abroad; and I am apt to believe, such back Friends\nas these will hardly leave him so long as he remains in the World.\nThere was a Ship at that time in the said Harbour, which 'twas reported\nhad some Money on Board for paying of the Forces in these Parts; which\nShip, by some untimely Accident, was blown up and lost; and presently\nafter it was given out by some ill People there present with my Lord,\nand by them sent into _England_ to their Party, that he had gotten the\nMoney beforehand to himself, and that the Ship was destroyed by his\nContrivance; that he had vast Sums of Money in _Holland_, and at\n_Venice_; nay, some went farther and affirmed, that he had settled a\ngood Fund, upon Occasion, at _Constantinople_: And I am sure some such\nlike Reports and palpable Falsities are continued on him to this very\nDay.\nAnd now I suppose it could not be in this Year that the strong City of\n_Dunkirk_ was to be betrayed by the Governour of it, and Surrendred to\nsome of the King's Forces.\nIn the next Campaign in _Flanders_, the Old _Waldeck_ was severely\nbeaten by Duke _Luxembourg_, at the Battle of _Flerus_: We were only\nSix Battalions of _British_ left in _Ghent_, under the Command of the\nthen Brigadier _Talmach_: We had Orders to march, and to join the grand\nArmy at least a Fortnight before the Fight happened; but as we were\nabout to march out of the City, the City Gates were shut against us by\nthe People of that Place, because we had no Money to pay our Quarters.\nMr. _Sizar_, whom my Lord brought over with him the Year before, was\nour Pay-Master-General, and at this time was gone down into _Holland_\nto get some Money upon Credit, till our Supply was returned from\n_England_; and then I remember there was a barbarous Lie spread up and\ndown among us, that our Money was kept in the Hands of Merchants by the\ncontrivance of my Lord and Mr. _Sizar_, that they might reap such a\nparticular Benefit, which could not be much, for the use of it.\n_Waldeck_ being beaten, the Elector of _Brandenbourg_, for supporting\nof him, was oblig'd by long Marches, to come and join us; after which,\nnothing more of Consequence happened this Year. And now I suppose it\ncould not be in this Year that _Dunkirk_ was to be given up to some\nparty of the King's Forces; both his Majesty and my Lord _Marlborough_\nbeing absent from us, and we had no Marches towards that part of the\nCountry, and good Reason for it, for we could not if we would.\nI come now to our third Campaign, which was made in _Flanders_; and if\never _Dunkirk_ was to be betrayed in some secret manner to the late\nKing; and if ever the Secret thereof was reveal'd by his Majesty to the\nEarl of _Marlborough_; and if my Lord did reveal the same weighty\nSecret to his Wife; and if by her it was discovered to her Sister at\n_St. Germans_, and by her to the _French_ King, it must be placed in\nthis Year, or else it must be _extra anni solisque Vias_, the Lord\nknows when and where.\nI am sure that the pretended Discovery of this same Secret hath lain\nhard on my Lord's Name for a great many Years; and upon most Discourses\nof the Affairs in _Flanders_, that business of _Dunkirk_ is trump'd up\nagainst my Lord to this very Day.\nFor as soon as this Story was sent abroad, it flew like Lightening, and\nlike the sham tragical Report which was put upon the _Irish_ at the\nRevolution, it was scattered over all the Kingdom in an instant. The\nloss of _Dunkirk_ is not to be forgotten, and 'tis fresh in the Minds\nof the common People, both in Town and Country; and not only the\nFarmers over a Pot of Ale at Market, will shake their Heads at\n_Malbur_, (for so they call him) for losing of _Dunkirk_; but also\nGentlemen of good Rank and Condition believe it to be true, and talk of\nit with a great deal of Regret to this very time. I don't pretend in\nthis Narrative to Inform the great People at Court, concerning this\nthing; without doubt they very well know there was no great matter in\nthis mighty Secret; but most of it a design to Disgrace my Lord\n_Marlborough_, that he might the more easily be turn'd out of his\nPlaces at Court and in the Army: I write this to the common People\nonly; to vindicate the Innocent, and to undeceive a good part of the\nNation, who have not had an Opportunity to be better Informed.\nThis Summer then being our Third Campaign, the King came to the Army,\nand with Him my Lord _Marlborough_, and several other Persons of\nQuality: Among the rest was Count _Solmes_, a nigh Relation to his\nMajesty, and Colonel of the great Regiment of _Dutch_ Blue Guards; and\nthen it was after two or three Marches that my Lord was observ'd to be\nsomewhat neglected, and his Interest in the Army to decay and cool; and\nupon a certain Morning, as we were in full March, a Man might judge by\nwhat then happened that it was so: For it seems the Count had ordered\nhis Baggage and Sumpters to take Place of my Lord's, and to cut them\nout of the Line; of which Affront my Lord being inform'd by his\nServants, soon found him out, and having caus'd his Baggage to enter\nthe Post which was his due, with his Cane lifted up, and some hard\nWords in _French_, 'twas thought by a great many that it would end in a\nsingle Combat; but the Count thought fit to shear off, and we heard no\nmore of it.\nAll this Summer was spent in a great many Marches after the _French_,\nto bring them to a Battle, but they Industriously and Artfully declin'd\nit. The Summer being spent, the King committed the Army again to Prince\n_Waldeck_, and went in haste to the _Hague_. Our Regiment was sent to\nGarrison at _Mechlen_, where came the _Dutch_ Foot Guards to Winter\nalso. Count _Solmes_, as he designed for _Holland_, took this City in\nhis way, and there he assured a certain _English_ Colonel, who not long\nbefore had been check'd by my Lord, about some Disorders in his\nRegiment, that the Earl of _Marlborough_ had made his Peace with\n_France_, and in a short time he would hear, that he would be call'd to\nan Account for it.\nWhen I went to _England_ that same Winter, my Lord's Appartments were\nat the _Cock-pit_. 'Twas fine to see them full of Gentlemen and\nOfficers of all Ranks, as they are now to be seen every Day at his\nLevee at St. _James_'s; but no sooner had my Lord _Sidney_ brought him\nword from the King, that His Majesty had no farther Service for him in\nthe Court, or in the Army, but my Lord was forsaken by all his Shadows,\nand his House left in a profound Silence.\nNow a Person of my Lord's high Posts, especially having been so\neminently instrumental in the Revolution, could not be well laid aside\nfrom all his Employments, without some Reasons were given to the People\nfor it; and in a short time the pretended Reasons were produced, and\nthey prevailed mightily.\nThe first was, That at the King's Levee at the putting on of the Shirt,\nmy Lord should speak scornfully of the Person of the King, who at the\nsame time having made a great Spitting (for his Majesty was a long time\ntroubled with a Consumptive Cough) that my Lord should say to some\nGentlemen nigh him, that _he wish'd it might be his last_.\nAs soon as this gross Affront was made known to the King, by a certain\nParty, who can calumniate stoutly, and blast as well as blacken, it was\nin a Moment all over the Court and Town; and 'tis a wonder my Lord was\nnot torn in Pieces.\nBut now to the Truth of this Matter. My Lord has been always esteem'd a\nnice Courtier, well guarded in his Words, and one of the most Mannerly\nbest-bred Men of the Nation; and no Man of Sense can believe that a Man\nof his Character could be so Indiscreet, as to drop such Words, which\nwould be Barbarous and Brutal from the Mouth of a Porter, much more\nfrom the Lips of a Noble-Man and a General.\nThe other Reason was, That through his or his Lady's Treachery or\nIndiscretion, the contrivance about _Dunkirk_ was discovered to the\n_French_, or else 'tis very probable it would have been in our\nPossession. And now to clear this Aspersion also.\n_Dunkirk_ is suppos'd to be one of the strongest Fortresses of\n_Europe_, either by Sea or Land, the _French_ King, by vast Labour, Art\nand Cost, having made it to be so, and accordingly regards it with a\ncareful Eye, always keeping in it a good Garrison, with all manner of\nPlenty for the Defence of it. The next Garrisons of ours towards that\nPlace, were _Bruges_, _Ostend_, and _Newport_, the nighest is\n_Newport_, a small Fortress on the Sea, and about twenty Miles from\n_Dunkirk_; we had no Marches towards any of these Places all this\nCampaign, neither was it known that any Detachment was sent that way,\neither in Summer or Winter: Scarce less than a body of Three Thousand\nMen would suffice to secure that City if it were to be betrayed to\nthem; now how such a Party could march over so many Canals, Morasses,\nand Trenches in that low Country, some part of the Enemy's, & most part\nof it their Friends, unobserved, and not look'd after, especially a\nRoyal Army of theirs being at Hand, is not easie to be conceived by any\nPerson who understands the Business of a Soldier. 'Tis a great Hazzard,\na nice Difficulty for a _French_ Governour to betray a strong City;\nunless all his Officers be in the Secret, and then 'tis wonderful, if\nby some one or other it is not revealed, or else he has with him in the\nPlace several good Officers, who understand the Duty as well as\nhimself, and very probable that one or more of them may have private\nInstructions to have an Eye upon him, and to keep him in View. Every\none that has a Command, knows his Alarm-Post, and every hour, Night and\nDay, the Majors, or their Aids, or some other Officers, go their Rounds\nupon the Walls all the Year long, in Places of so great Importance. As\nfor the betraying of it to any Naval Forces, I suppose 'twas never\nthought on, unless the whole Garrison, with the Burghers, should give\ntheir Consent, and stand idly gazing on whilst the Ships were\napproaching: Indeed there was once a Design upon some Sea-port of this\nGarrison, to shake and shatter it with a Vessel, which was called for\nthat purpose _The Terrible Machine_; it made a horrible Crack when it\nwas Fired, and so the Engine and the Design vanish'd in Smoak.\nBut now admitting that all this was true, and that there was a\nContrivance to put _Dunkirk_ into our Hands, and the Plot was\ndiscovered, and the Governour was hang'd, (which upon strict Enquiry no\none could tell whom he was, or when or where he was Executed) yet why\nmust my Lord _Marlborough_, or his Lady, be the Betrayers of this\nweighty Secret? If it was for a good Reward, I suppose no one living\ncan tell how, or when, or where it was paid. And what great Services my\nLord has done for the _French_ King, for a great many Years to this\nvery Day; let the World judge.\nBut to put all this Matter out of doubt, our most Gracious Sovereign\nLady the QUEEN, who was then Princess, was at that time the best Judge\nof this Untruth cast upon them; for notwithstanding the high\ndispleasure of the Court, she always gave them Umbrage and Protection,\nwhich without doubt she would not have done, unless she was thoroughly\npersuaded of their Innocence.\nTo be short, my Lord was a true Lover of the Interest of his Country,\nand a true Member of the Church of _England_; and most Places of State\nand Power were in the Hands of such Persons, who seem'd to depress the\nFences of the Church, and favour the Dissenters, and their Favourers\nthe Whigs: So 'twas not thought convenient that my Lord should be\nadmitted into their Secrets; upon which they gave him a good Name, and\nturned him out.\nMy Lord was no sooner discharged of his Places, but like the old\n_Roman_ Dictator, with the same calmness of Temper he retired from the\nhighest Business of State, to his _Villa_ in the Country; but he shew'd\nhimself as skilful an Husband-Man, as he had been a Soldier: But here\nhe could not long enjoy the Quiet which he sought, but the same Malice\nfound him here, which had turn'd him from the Court; from hence he was\ntaken and clap'd up into the _Tower_, where most of Friends thought he\nwould have lost that Head, which has since done so much good to his\nQueen and Country.\nAnd thus I have shew'd how very much my Lord has been obliged to the\nWhigs in those Days. The Jacobites at this time were not behind hand\nwith him in their good Wishes, but all they could do, was to Rail and\ncall Names, and so promise their good Nature, when 'twas in their\nPower.\nThe King, who was certainly an able Judge of Men, had never time enough\nto be acquainted with the excellent Merits of this Noble Lord, but he\nwas blasted by His Enemies, before his Virtues were sufficiently made\nknown to Him.\nBut when several great Men, who were true Lovers of their Country, had\nfully inform'd his Majesty, that my Lord was always his most faithful\nServant and Subject, and most willing to serve Him to the utmost of his\nPower; and that 'twas pity such an able Man should be laid by as\nuseless _and forgotten_: My Lord was brought again to the King's nearer\nConversation; and after the late Peace, as his Majesty found himself\ndecaying in his Health, and the _French_ King dealing more and more\nevery Day insincerely with him, and his Allies, he chose him again his\nGeneral, and his Ambassador to the States; and having brought him to\n_Holland_, that he might be fully instructed in all the necessary\nAffairs of both Nations, he recommended him to his Successor, our most\nGracious QUEEN, as the only fit Person, whose Spirit might encounter\nthe Genius of _France_, and strangle their Designs of swallowing\n_Europe_.\nNo sooner had our Sovereign Lady Queen ANNE mounted the Throne, but in\nconcert with her High Allies, she proclaim'd War against _France_; and\nhaving created my Lord, Duke of _Marlborough_, she sent him her\nPlenepotentiary into _Holland_ to the States, and Captain General of\nHer Forces; and I am sure a great many Officers who had serv'd under\nhim in the former War, were glad to see him once more at the Head of an\nArmy.\nIn the beginning of this first Year of the War, the _French_ Army,\nunder the Conduct of Mareschal _Boufflers_, was a little beforehand\nwith us, and came into the Field stronger than ours; some Troops of the\nAllies having not yet join'd us. The _French_ had coop'd up our Army\nunder the Walls of _Nimeguen_, and much ado we had, by frequent\nSkirmishes, to hinder them from investing that considerable Frontier,\nat that time unprovided by the neglect of the Governour, as 'tis\nreported, of all warlike Necessaries for the Defence of it. A Man might\nthen see but an indifferent Ayre in the face of our Forces: The States\nwere under great Apprehensions, least the Enemy should penetrate into\ntheir Country; and nothing could recover them from their Fears, till\nhis Grace, after three or four Days, had join'd our Army with some\nadditional Troops; upon his Approach we had immediately a new Scene of\nAffairs; each Soldier seem'd to receive a new Life by the Cheerfulness\nof their Officers; and he presently assured the Deputies of the States,\nthat the _French_ should be no longer their bad Neighbours, but he\nwould oblige them to March farther off that Country, and that with a\nWitness. They were like People in a Trance, and could hardly believe\nthat their Affairs had receiv'd so happy a turn; accordingly we\nmarch'd, and having passed the _Maes_, Coasted along that side of\n_Brabant_, which lies towards that River, towards the open Country of\n_Mastricht_ and _Luickland_, and not long after, almost in Sight of\ntheir Army, we opened that noble River, to the great Benefit of the\nTrade of the Country, having taken from the _French_ the Fortresses of\n_Stochum_, of _Stevenswaert_, of _Ruremond_, and _Venlo_, and at last\nthe strong Cittadel and City of _Liege_, with a vast quantity of Cannon\nand Prisoners; the _French_ not daring to relieve any of them by\nventuring a Battle.\nIn this Campaign our General shew'd himself a true Master of his Art,\nhaving outdone the _French_ Mareschal in every March. When he came into\n_Holland_, he was receiv'd into their Cities, as their Tutelar Angel,\nand their own Generals came to thank him for this happy Campaign,\nwithout any sign of Envy.\nWhen he returned to _England_, he was well receiv'd by the Queen his\nMistress, and with the Joy of all good People; but then there was some\nallay to this good Fortune, several People were heard to Grumble, that\nafter this Manner we should not get to _Paris_ in a long time, and a\nSpeech was Printed, as if a Peer of the Realm had been the Author of\nit, with some ironical Touches on the Duke, about raising the ancient\nValour of the Nation; and that 'twas unreasonable, that one Man should\nhave a _King-Key_, which should open every Door in the Nation.\nAbout this time also Pamphlets began to fly, much reflecting on the\nCountess of _Marlborough_, which I think have not ceas'd, but very much\nincreased against her every Year, to this very Day. I never had the\nHonour to see that Lady, but once at the _Hague_; she was there with\nher Husband, the last time our late King was in that Country; and it\nwas a common Report, at that Court, among a great many Gentlemen of\nvery good Quality, that she was esteemed there among the Foreign\nLadies, one of the best bred Women of her Age; and here are Ladies from\nmost Courts of _Europe_, who, without doubt, are the nicest Judges: But\nto be sure here at home they give her Name very poor Quarters, and make\nher guilty of more Folly, than a Retainer to the College in\n_Moor-Fields_.\nIt will be too long for me to set down the particular Victories of\nevery Campaign, and I hope no need of it; because 'tis probable they\nare fresh in the Memory of every good Subject. His wonderful and\nconquering March to the Banks of the _Danube_; His artful Passing the\n_French_ Lines, purely owing to his own good Conduct; His Beating each\none of the _French_ Great Mareschals round in their Turns, in several\nwell fought Battles: A People, who for an Age had bullied the rest of\n_Europe_, and had taught other Nations the Art and Tactiques of War, as\nwell as their Modes and Language: Their Captiv'd Generals and Conquered\nTowns, perhaps the Strongest in the Universe, demonstrate not only his\nWisdom, Skill and Conduct, but also his surmounting Courage, and\nunwearied Labour.\nAnd now at first View a Man might wonder how it should come to pass\nthat such a Renown'd General, after so many Signal Services, and great\nActions, for the good of his Country, should be so undervalued and\nslighted at his return home from the very middle of his Labours, by any\none who pretends to value the good of his Nation: But this is no new\nThing, all the Histories of the World are full of Examples to this\npurpose, and most of them of Men of War and Great Captains.\nSir _Walter Raleigh_ has mustered up a long Roll of Glorious Sufferers,\nfrom the most ancient to his own Times; and in the Condition in which\nhe then was, might have brought in himself for a remarkable Sharer. For\nthe most eminent Virtues are but as so many fair Marks set up on high\nfor Envy to shoot at with her poysonous Darts, and in all States, 'tis\nsometimes dangerous to be Great and Good, for cunning Envy is often\nvery strong, and when once its Devices are effectually spread in the\nMouths of the Multitude, will produce a Blast able to blow down the\nmost lofty Cedar: 'Tis therefore for the good of the common People of\nthe Nation, that I shall let them see the scandalous Reflections which\nare scattered abroad on the Honour of the Duke of _Marlborough_; and\nwhen I have shewn to any rational Man that they are all False,\nUnreasonable, and Malicious, I have my End.\nThe first Scandal that is put abroad upon his Grace is this: That he\nhas avoided several Opportunities of Fighting, not considering the\ngreat burden of Taxes that lies upon the Nation, because the War should\nbe continued longer, whereby he may increase his Riches, and keep up\nhis Power. Now how false this Report is, will easily appear.\nFor the Business of Peace and War does not depend on a General: 'Tis\nthe Business of his Monarch, who best knows the proper times for such\nTreaties. Other Princes are concern'd in the War, as well as ours, and\ntheir Subjects are as desirous of Peace as any of us can be, yet this\nPeace can't well be obtain'd without a joint Consent; but if the Enemy\nagainst whom we Fight, will not come to any terms of Peace that are\nReasonable, and Honourable, and Just, and upon which the War is\nfounded, but in his pretended Treaties, chicanes and falsifies, and is\naltogether Insincere, then 'tis not the General's Fault if we can't\nhave Peace; we are in for the War, and we must stand to it.\nIndeed in the last dear Year of Corn, _France_ was almost reduced to\ntheir last Shifts; their Sufferings could be call'd little less than a\nFamine, and most of the Powers of _Europe_ did really believe that they\nmust have sued for a Peace, if they had not been assisted; but whilst\nthe Circumstances of this Peace were in Agitation, then did the good\nPeople of Great _Britain_ and _Ireland_, the north part of them to\n_Burgundy_, and _Champaign_, by way of _Holland_, thro' the _Maes_; and\nthe South Part of them from _Dunkirk_ and _Calais_ over-against _Kent_,\nbeyond the Mouth of the _Garroon_ on the Western Ocean, supply that\nCountry with vast quantities of Corn, almost to the starving of their\nown People. Not one of them cried out for Peace, or blam'd the General,\ntheir Pockets being well fill'd; But swore in the Markets, over\nplentiful Nappy, that in a short time they would pull old _Lewis_ out\nof his Throne.\nAs for our Generals avoiding Fighting, 'tis easie to guess out of what\nQuiver this Arrow of Scandal was drawn; for without doubt 'twas forg'd\nin his own Army; and seeing the _Roman_ History is now much in Fashion,\nI shall give an Example, as an Answer to this Scandal, and without\ndoubt 'tis home to the Purpose. _Haniball_ had beaten the _Romans_ in\nthree great Battles of _Ticinum_, _Trebia_, and _Thrasymene_: 'Twas his\nBusiness to Fight the _Romans_ wherever he could come at them; his Army\nbeing compounded of rough old Mercenary Soldiers of divers Nations, who\nare ready to Mutiny and Desert upon all Occasions, if they have not\npresent Pay or continual Plunder; in this Extremity the old _Fabius_\nwas chosen Dictator, or supream Commander; he was a good Man of War,\nand understood his Business; and for his Lieutenant, or Master of the\nHorse, which among them was all one, he chose one _Minutius_, the worst\nthing that ever he did; because in a short time he found him to be an\nUngrateful, Conceited, Hot-headed Accuser. _Fabius_ with great skill\nand caution avoided Battle by Coasting _Hanibal_ on the sides of Hills\nin rough Ground, by Woods and Rivers, and hard Passes; because much\ninferior in Horse to the _Carthaginian_; and thereby gain'd time to\nconfirm the Hearts of his Soldiers, and so make them capable by degrees\nto look the Enemy in the Face. _Hanibal_ soon found that by no means he\ncould draw in this wary old _Gamester_, but declar'd, that he fear'd\nnothing more than that Clowd which hung about the Hill Tops, least some\ntime or other it should fall down and severely wet him. Winter coming\non, and the Dictator being obliged to return home about some other\nAffairs; He left his Army to the Care of this Master of the Horse, with\na strict charge to shun Fighting with all possible Care, and to follow\nthe Example which he had set before him: He was prowd of this\nOpportunity of Commanding the Army, and believ'd himself the best and\nthe ablest Man for it; he procured to have his Courage magnified at\nhome among the common People, and that if he had a Command equal to the\nCaptain General, he would soon give a better Account of _Hanibal_ and\nhis Army; that _Fabius_ was afraid to look towards his Enemy, and\nthereby disheartned the Soldiers, who were otherwise naturally Brave;\nand by his Fearfulness suffered these Barbarians to Ravage in their\nCountry, to their Ruine and Destruction. The Tribunes of the People,\nnot much better than Captains of the Mob, were his particular Friends,\nand they complaining to the Senate, every where gave it out, that after\nthis manner of _Fabius_ his going on, the War would never have an end,\nthat the City would be undone by perpetual Taxes; that all Trade was\nceas'd, and nothing to be seen among the Commons, but a sad Prospect of\ngrowing Poverty.\nThe Senate was wearied out by these Factious Importunities, till at\nlast 'twas granted, that the Master of the Horse should have equal\nCommand with that Great Man who would preserve them from Ruine.\nAccordingly he receiv'd half of the Army to be under his Charge, by a\nLot, for _Fabius_ would not endure, because he foresaw what would come\nto pass, that it shou'd be in his Power, for one Day, to command the\nwhole. _Minutius_, forsooth, to show his Bravery, march'd nearer to the\nEnemy. _Hannibal_ had laid a Train for the Hotspur, and soon caught\nhim; and both he and his Army had been soon cut to pieces if the Old\nGeneral, not permitting private Revenge to interfere with the good of\nhis Country, had not drawn down in very good Order, repuls'd the\nAmbush, and secur'd his Retreat. The best thing that _Minutius_ cou'd\ndo, was to beg Pardon for his Fault, and promise more regard to his\nSuperiors for the future. So that you see 'tis the Experienc'd,\nSkilful, Old General who is best Judge of times of Fighting; and that\nMan who asperses his Honour is to be suspected as either wanting\nJudgment, or an Enemy to the Publick.\nAnother Scandal was lately rais'd against his Grace, as touching his\ngood Conduct and Skill, as he is a General; and this is much among\nthose sort of People, whose Mouths go off smartly with a Whiff of\nTobacco, and fight Battles, and take Towns over a Dish of Coffee. They\ngive out, like Men of great Understanding in the Art Military, that the\nDuke is more beholding to his Good-Fortune than his Skill, in the\nAdvantages he has gain'd over the _French_, and that he may thank the\nPrince of _Savoy_, and the good Forces which he Commands, more than his\nown Skill in War, for his great Reputation.\nThe Good-Fortune of His Grace ought to be attributed to the good\nProvidence of GOD, for which, both he and the whole Nation ought to be\nthankful. 'Tis a great Happiness to have such a Fortunate General; and,\nwithout doubt, the _French_ King would purchase such another at any\nrate, if he could.\nBut then, _Nullum numen abest, si sit Prudentia_. The General that is\nPrudent, and Vigilant, and Temperate, Alert, and Industrious, with an\nhumble Submission to the Will of the Almighty, takes the right way of\nobliging Fortune to be of his Side: Or, to speak better, the Blessings\nof Heaven to crown his Endeavours: For in War 'tis seldom known, (quite\ncontrary to the Old Proverb) that in conducting Armies and fighting\nBattles, _Fools_ _have Fortune_.\nAs for his Acting in Concert with the Heroick Prince of _Savoy_, who\nis, without doubt, one of the ablest Generals of the Universe, and\nchusing of him to be his Friend and Colleague, is one of the strongest\nArguments of his Art and Knowledge: Mutual Danger, and mutual\nPrinciples of Honour, have entirely united them. In all difficult\nPoints they presently agree, as if what one was Speaking, the other was\nThinking of the same Matter at the very same time: And no Person can\nbelieve, that Prince _Eugene_ would endure that any Person in the World\nshould share with him in his Fame and Glory, unless such an Hero, whom\nhe thinks in all Points to be his Equal. As for the Troops under his\nCommand, 'tis evident to the World, that they excel all others; for the\nsake of their Countries they are prodigal of their Blood; and under\nsuch a General, by their own Confession, when they go to Action, think\nof nothing else but Victory and Triumph.\nBut Matters of Fact are the best Arguments. Amongst the great number\nwhich might be produc'd, I shall only Instance these two following; and\nI am sorry that those People who have not seen Marching or Embatteling\nArmies cannot be competent Judges of them. Let the first be in the\nfirst Campaign, in the first Year of Her Majesty's Reign. We were\nencamp'd on the Confines of _Brabant_, not far from a little Town\ncall'd _Peer_; the Country round about is almost all great Heaths and\nlarge Commons; we were in full March betimes in the Morning, and, by\nthe countenance of our March, 'twas suppos'd we should have a long and\na late Fatigue; when, on a sudden, about Eleven a Clock, we had Orders\nto halt, and to encamp at the bottom of an Heath, behind some rising\nGrounds and great Sand-Hills, near a Place called _Hilteren_; and\naccording to the Time that my Lord Duke had projected, Mareschal\n_Boufflers_, with his Army, was blunder'd upon us, within Shot of our\nCannon, not knowing where we were. At that time we were superior to the\n_French_, especially in Horse; they could by no means avoid a Battle,\nthe Mareschal was caught: And if the Deputies of the States, and their\nGenerals, could have been perswaded to venture a Battle, in conjunction\nwith the other Allies; and they were entreated enough, almost with\nTears, by all the other Princes and Generals of the Army, 'tis very\nprobable the _French_, under that great surprize, had been severely\nbeaten. At last they stole away from us in a dark Night, and were glad\nof the Escape. And thus then you see the great Skill of our General, to\nentrap the _French_ Mareschal in his March, in the middle of the Day,\nand to make him, in a manner, fall into his Arms.\nThe second Instance is from the Battle of _Ramelies_. A Stratagem well\nlaid argues the great Dexterity and Penetration of a General; in deep\nhollow Ways, in close Bottoms, and nigh sides of Woods, Ambuscades are\noften laid, and, perhaps, as often discovered; but to bring an Ambush\nupon an Enemy, into the open Country, in the face of the Sun, requires\nan assured Skill, as well as a daring Courage. Thus 'tis said of the\nGreat _Hannibal_, at the Battle of _Cann\u00e6_, that in the open Field he\nbrought an Ambush on the Backs of the _Romans_, which very much help'd\nto encrease their Terror and Confusion. And thus did our General, at\nthe foremention'd Battle, but with a better Contrivance.\nThe _French_ King had Intelligence given him, that all the Forces of\nour Army were not join'd, and accordingly sent positive Orders to his\nGeneral, not to let slip that Opportunity of chastising the Insolence\nof the Allies, for that was the Expression; and indeed 'twas true, the\nAllies had been pretty bold with him several times before: and the\nMareschal doubted not but to have time enough to execute his Master's\nCommands, before a good Body of Horse, which he understood to be at a\ngreat distance, could be able to come up and assist us. The Duke gave a\npretty good Guess at the Monsieur's Designs, and before-hand had sent\nstrict Order, that they, without the least delay, should speed\nimmediately towards him, and in the middle of the Night, to halt at a\nVillage where he had appointed, not above two Leagues from his Camp;\nand after a little Refreshment, and Preparation for Service, must be\nready to move at break of Day, upon the first bruit of Cannon: For\ntheir resting in that Place, and at such a distance, would be much more\nto his Advantage than if they had join'd him.\nThe Business being thus order'd, he was resolv'd the Enemy should not\ntake all the Pains in coming towards him, but to meet them on part of\nthe Way. The _French_ Right Wing, in which were their best Troops,\noppos'd our Left, and in their vigorous Charge had the better of the\nAllies: The Duke, with the other Generals, rallied them again; but\nfinding it difficult to sustain the strong Impression of the Enemy,\npresently gave out, and it took among all the Squadrons in a Moment,\nThat a great number of the best Troops in the World, who were their\nFriends, were just at their Heels with Sword in hand, ready to sustain\nthem, that no Power of the Enemy could look them in the Face; which\nbeing seen to be true, as well as felt by the Enemy, they were soon\nrepulsed, discourag'd, and put into Confusion, which was the first\ncause of the general Rout of their Army.\nAnd thus then you see, that our General wants neither Conduct or\nCourage: And as 'twas once said to that Renown'd Captain _Epaminondas_,\nwho having no Children, and being about to die of his honourable\nWounds, that his two Battels of _Leuctra_ and _Mantin\u00e6a_ should be as\ntwo fair Daughters to preserve his Memory. So may we say, that the many\nBattles and Sieges, fought and won by our Great _Marlborough_, in the\nProvinces of _Gelders_, of _Limbourg_, of _Brabant_, of _Flanders_, of\n_Artois_, of _Hainault_, shall be far excelling the most numerous\nProgeny to eternize his Name.\nThe other false Reports that are spread among the People, by the\nEnemies of the Duke, are these; That his way of Living in the Army is\nMean and Parsimonious, unbecoming the Honour and Dignity of his Post.\nThat the Income and Revenue from the Profits of his Places are too much\nfor a Subject: And that he minds nothing so much as getting of Riches.\nAll which Reports are false and malicious, and only the Designs of his\nsecret Enemies.\n_Wo be to them that call Evil Good, and Good Evil._ Some of this was\npart of the False Accusation that was urged against _Scipio_ the\n_Asiatic_, by the Malice and ill Nature of _Cato_ and his Accomplices;\nThat he had squandred away the Money of the Government, in a great\nmeasure, by his excessive Way of Living; for so his Magnificence was\ntermed by them: That his vast Treats and luxurious Tables had some\npopular Design. And, to be sure, if our General should offer to live\nafter any such manner, the Nation would be fill'd with perpetual\nClamour, that he treated the Officers to make them his Creatures, and\nin a short time would set up for himself; for, without doubt, those\nthings which other Men might do, tho' much inferior to the Duke, with a\ngeneral Applause, in him would be Criminal, and of bad Consequence.\nIn all ancient Histories nothing is more highly prais'd in Princes and\ngreat Captains, than Temperance and Moderation in Meat and Drink. The\nCommander of the Army ought to be vigilant, that (as a good Prince once\nsaid) the People committed to his Charge may sleep more safely; and\n'tis not to be conceiv'd how such a Person, who is loaded continually\nwith foggy Intemperance, can be Careful, Active, Watchful, Alert,\nThoughtful, Foreseeing, being all Qualities necessary for so great a\nCharge.\nHis Grace governs his Family abroad like a wise Master, with good Order\nand Method; every thing about him shines with a temperate Use, and a\ndaily chearful Plenty, not only for his own Domesticks, but for many\nothers; but then all this is in due time and season: He has no\nConstitution for an Intemperate Life, and the Loads of it would soon\ndestroy him.\nAs for his great Profits in the Army, let us take a view of them: There\nis an Author call'd, _The Examiner_, who has been very diligent in\nsearching into His Grace's Revenue: But I am sure, in his Perquisites\nbelonging to the Army he can be no Judge; the Pay of a Captain General,\nby the Day, may be known to any one, I suppose 'tis set down in the\n_Present State of England_, as well as Master of the Ordnance, and\nColonel of a Regiment of Foot-Guards; these are all his Military\nEmployments, and the Pay of them as much his due, as the Pay of Three\nShillings and Six-Pence is to an Ensign. The Earl of _Rumney_ had all\nthese Places except Captain-General; he was both a Lieutenant-General\nand an Ambassador, and enjoy'd them a long time, and yet I never heard\nof any Man that envied him, or found fault that he had too many Places.\nAnd 'tis a common thing for a great Mareschal of _France_ to have many\nmore Posts, and of much greater Profits.\nAny young Clerk, who belongs to an Agent, can presently show how many\nRegiments of Horse, Foot, and Dragoons are in the Pay of Her Majesty,\nunder the Duke; and everyone there, from a General to a Drummer, what\ntheir proper Pay is, nor can they be deceived. The Hospitals and the\nArtillery are paid accordingly, in an exact Method. The Pay of each\nparticular Body is issued out to the Pay-masters of the Army, from the\nPay-Master-General; and the Duke touches not a Farthing but what\nproperly belongs to him. And whereas abundance of People complain, that\nalmost all the Money of the Nation was, by the late Lord Treasurer,\nsent into _Flanders_ to pay the Troops there; no matter what became of\nthe other parts of the War. This I know to be true, That the mercenary\nor hired Forces, which are in our Pay, and are the greatest part of our\nArmy under the Duke, being most of them _Danes_, _Swiss_, _Saxons_, and\n_Palatines_, all of the _German_ kind, will not march one Foot,\nnotwithstanding all the Perswasions that any General can use; no, not\nto save any King or Prince in the World, unless they are duly paid, at\nthe appointed times, according to their first Agreement: but then, as\nsoon as you shew the _Gheldt_, they presently Shoulder, and Stalk\nwheresoever you please.\nWhat the Queen is pleas'd to allow the Duke for his Secret Service,\nbecause his Eyes and Ears must be in all Secret Cabinets, (and, without\ndoubt, his Intelligence must be very good) it is not fit for me or the\n_Examiner_ to know; or, for ought I can judge, any one else besides in\nthe World.\nThe Perquisites of Safeguards and Contributions, which in all Times\nhave belong'd to Generals, can't easily be valued, they are according\nto the Countries in which the War is carried. But for all these Profits\nto be ascrib'd to the Duke, (as in several Pamphlets 'tis evident they\nare) is very unreasonable; because there are two other Chief Generals\nbesides, the Prince of _Savoy_ for the Imperialists, and Count _Tilly_\nfor the States, each of which will claim their Parts as well as His\nGrace; besides the gross of them, which are given to the States\nthemselves: and yet we hear of no Complaint, or Papers printed against\nthem, or in the least envied by any of the Nations under whom they\nserve.\nIn short, 'tis all the Reason that a conquering General, who fights our\nBattels, and must look the Powers of _Europe_ in the Face, as he is\ndistinguish'd by Titles of Honour, so where-ever he goes he ought to be\nattended with Plenty and Riches.\nA Sea-Captain, after the Service of Nine or Ten Years, is usually\nMaster of a very great Fortune, he Sails in his Coach with rich\nLiveries for his Colours, and Steers from his City to his Country-House\nunenvied, and without unmerciful Remarks. The honest Gentlemen in Town,\ncall'd Agents, most of whom are risen from a mean Condition to be\nMembers of Parliament, Justices of the Peace, and to purchase Estates,\nwhere-ever they can find out Land to be dispos'd of, who never ventur'd\ntheir Lives farther than from the Pay-Office to the Tavern; and yet\nthey make a Figure in the World with a very good Grace, untouch'd, or\nnot mark'd by any Observator.\nBut this has been the Fortune of the most glorious Persons, to be\nenvied and persecuted whilst they are alive, and when taken away from\nus by some unlucky Accident, are desir'd too late, and lamented with a\nWitness.\nIf we observe, through the whole Nation, either here in this Capital,\nor in any other Parts of _England_, allowing but for proportion of\nMerit and Dignity, we shall find more People belonging to Offices of\nDocks and Yards, to Offices of Stores and Victualling, who have made as\ngood use of the Places in which they serve, and with no greater Fatigue\nand Danger than Figuring and Writing, as the best and richest General\nin _Europe_.\nWhen my Lord _Marlborough_ had escap'd the Wars, and was return'd to\nthe quiet of the Country, no Word was heard of him in Court or Town, no\none talked of his Money, or Riches, or Estate; but no sooner was he\nagain call'd to the High Station in which he now Acts, but Envy had\npresently found him out, even in the midst of Guards and Arms, and ever\nsince has follow'd him close with all sorts of False-Reports, to this\nvery time; as if nothing but his most excellent Qualities, and growing\nGlory, could make him Unfortunate.\nIndeed Generals, tho' the most accomplish'd Heroes, are but Men, they\nare not Infallible, but may be mistaken as well as other Mortals, they\nare subject to Faults and Infirmities as well as their Fellow-Creatures;\nbut then their great Services for the good of their Country ought to be\ncast into the Ballance, against their humane Mistakes; and not only\nCharity, but Self-consideration should give them very good Quarter,\nunless their Faults are prov'd to be Wilful and Contumacious.\nI know not how it might happen to the Duke if he should chance to\nMiscarry, or be beaten in a Battle; God be prais'd, as yet he has never\nbeen foil'd: but then we must not suppose that he is Invincible, that\nFortune will always be confin'd to the Pomel of his Sword. But this is\ncertain, that the _French_ King has not been severe to any of his Great\nCaptains, tho', in their turns, they have been all beaten by the Prince\nof _Savoy_ and the Duke, the Prince taking one of his chief Mareschals\na Prisoner with him out of the midst of his Garison; the Duke another\nof them on the Banks of the _Danube_, with the greatest part of the\nBanners and Trophies of his almost captiv'd Army: there are no Outcries\nof the Common People for a Sacrifice to the Publick, nor base\nReflections made on their Courage or Conduct; because 'tis suppos'd in\nall those fiery Ordeals of Battles, a General exerts all the Faculties\nand Powers of Body and Soul; he puts Nature on the stretch. And as my\nLord Duke, at the conclusion of the great Battle of _Blenheim_ said, I\nthink to his Honour, that he believed he had pray'd more that Day than\nall the Chaplains of his Army.\nTherefore let not People think, that those Gentlemen who are call'd to\nfight Battles make use of those Employments, in the heat of a bloody\nWar, for Diversion or Pleasure. They who have been Spectators of what\nthey do and what they suffer, will soon be perswaded, that no People\nunder Heaven purchase their Profits and Honours at a dearer rate.\n'Tis a great happiness to a Nation to have a generous Race of Warlike\nPeople, who, at all times, are ready to venture their Lives in the\ndefence of it. Cowardice is the highest Scandal to a Country, and\nexposes it to be a Prey to every Invader, as well as a Scorn to their\nNeighbours. In all Histories of the World, they who dare die for the\nsake of their Country, have been esteem'd as a sort of Martyrs: And the\nPeople who are protected at Home in their Estates, Ease, Safety, and\nLiberties, ought not to grudge them of any of their Perquisites; but to\nbless God for such a gallant number of Martial Brethren, who drive the\nWar at a great distance, so that we see none, we do but hear of it; for\n'tis a sad thing to behold the Ravages, the Ruine, the Spoils, the\nDevastations of those Countries which happen to be the Seats of War.\nWhen the Officers, coming from _Flanders_, after the Campaign, appear\nin the newest Fashions, which they bring over with them, with a good\nAyre and genteel Mien, which is almost common to them, the People, who\nnever saw the Hardships which they undergo, think them only design'd\nfor Pleasure and Ease, and their Profession to be desir'd above any\nthing in the World besides. They often hear of Fights and Sieges, and\nof a great many Men kill'd in a few Hours; but because they see not the\nActions, the Talk leaves but a small and transient Impression, and so\nin a small time is wip'd off and forgotten. But if they did but see\nthem in a Rainy Season, when the whole Country about them is trod into\na Chaos, and in such intolerable Marches, Men and Horses dying and dead\ntogether, and the best of them glad of a bundle of Straw to lay down\ntheir wet and weary Limbs: If they did but see a Siege, besides the\ndaily danger and expectation of Death, which is common to all, from the\nGeneral to the Centinel; the Watches, the Labours, the Cares which\nattend the greatest; the ugly Sights, the Stinks of Mortality, the\nGrass all wither'd and black with the Smoke of Powder, the horrid\nNoises all Night and all Day, and Spoil and Destruction on every side;\nI am sure they would be perswaded, that a State of War, to those who\nare engag'd in it, must needs, be a state of Labour and Misery; and\nthat a great General, I mean such a one as the Duke of _Marlborough_,\nweak in his Constitution, and well stricken in Years, would not undergo\nthose eating Cares, which must be continually at his Heart; the Toils\nand Hardships which he must endure, and the often Sorrows which must\nprick his Heart for ugly Accidents, if he has the least Spark of humane\nCommiseration, I say, he would not engage himself in such a Life, if\nnot for the sake of his Queen and Country, and his Honour.\nI come now to add a word or two of the government of the Forces under\nhis Care. His own Example gives a particular Life to his Orders; and as\nno indecent Expression, unbecoming, unclean, or unhandsome Language\never drops from his Lips, so he is imitated by the genteel part of his\nArmy: His Camps are like a quiet and well-govern'd City; and, I am apt\nto believe, much more Mannerly; Cursing and Swearing, and boisterous\nWords being never heard among those who are accounted good Officers:\nAnd, without doubt, his Army is the best Academy in the World to teach\na young Gentlemen Wit and Breeding; a Sot and a Drunkard being scorn'd\namong them.\nThese poor Wretches, that are (too many of them) the refuse and\noff-scowrings of the worst parts of our Nation, after two Campaigns, by\nthe Care of their Officers, and good Order and Discipline, are made\nTractable, and Civil, and Orderly, and Sensible, and Clean, and have an\nAyre and a Spirit that is beyond vulgar People.\nThe Service of GOD, according to the Order of our Church, is strictly\nenjoin'd by the Dukes special Care; and in all fixed Camps, every Day,\nMorning and Evening, there are Prayers; and on Sundays Sermons are duly\nperform'd with all Decency and Respect, as well as in Garisons. And, to\nbe sure, the Good-Nature, and Compassion, and Charity of Officers\nexpress'd to the poor sick and wounded Soldiers, and to their Families\nin Garison, is more Liberal, and Generous, and Free, than usually we\nmeet with in our own Country.\nAnd now then I hope my good Country-men will not suffer themselves any\nlonger to be impos'd on by false Reports, which are cunningly spread\nabroad among them, against a Gentleman, a Patriot, who ventures his\nLife, every Day, for their Safety, and is endeavouring to the utmost of\nhis Power, under his Most Gracious Sovereign, by his Courage, his\nSkill, and his Wisdom, to bring the Common Enemy to Reason, and to\nprocure them and our Allies, an honourable and lasting Peace.\n'Tis a thing of ill Consequence to bring a Disreputation on the good\nName of a General; and to lessen his Honour is to dispirit his Army:\nfor when the Forces under his Command have once a mean Opinion of the\nIntegrity, and Honour, and Conduct of their General, they may be drawn\nout and forced to Battle, but never be perswaded to think of Laurels\nand Victory.\n'Tis an old Piece of Policy for an Enemy, if possible, to bring an\nOdium on the Honour of a General against whom he is to act. Thus did\n_Hannibal_, who, in his moroding Marches, had spared some Grounds\nbelonging to the Dictator _Fabius_, not out of any respect or kindness\nto his Person, but to bring him into Envy and Suspicion among the\nPeople at _Rome_; and so 'twas given out by one of the Tribunes, that\n_Hannibal_ and he had, as it were, made a Truce; that the drift of\n_Fabius_ could be nothing else but to prolong the War, that he might be\nlong in Office, and have the sole Government both of City and Armies.\nAnd, without doubt, the _French_ King would have been very well\nsatisfied, if this same Aspersion, which was lately spread abroad\nconcerning our General, had taken the effect of having him laid aside,\nand put out of his Places. A Finish'd Hero does not grow up every Day,\nthey are scarce Plants, and do not thrive in every Soil; He may be\neasily lost, but then that Loss cannot easily be repair'd; therefore\nthere is great Reason to Value and Esteem him.\nTo conclude, As our great Commander is known to the World, or at least\nto the greatest part of it, to be Temperate, Sober, Careful,\nCouragious, Politick, Skilful, so he is Courteous, Mild, Affable,\nHumble, and Condescending to People of the meanest Condition. And as\n'tis said of _Moses_, the Great, the Valiant Captain-General of\nAlmighty God, for an immortal Title of Honour, that he was one of the\nMeekest Men upon the Earth; so, without doubt, our Captain-General,\n_John_ Duke of _Marlborough_, has a great share of it.\n_FINIS._\nAPPENDIX\nAuthorship of _A Short Narrative_\nWhile no direct contemporary corroboration exists as evidence for\nDefoe's authorship, a considerable number of literary mannerisms,\ninterests, and opinions appear to establish it conclusively.\nAs Professor John Robert Moore said, _The Life_ is \"exceptionally\ncharacteristic\" of Defoe, so characteristic in fact that \"one can\nrecognize his style and manner as one would a familiar voice.\"[21] The\nlist of phrases and mannerisms which produce this effect is extensive:\nThe insertion of qualifying or explanatory phrases (\"The first time\nthat I had the Honour of seeing John, Earl of Marlborough, [for so I\nshall call him till he was created Duke] ...\"), the use of \"sentence\nparagraphs,\" the repetition of such introductory phrases as \"To be\nshort,\" \"but now to the Truth of the matter,\" \"in short,\" and \"to put\nall this matter out of doubt,\" and the frequent use of words such as\n\"matter\" and \"purpose\" to emphasize the force and pertinence of his\narguments mark Defoe's writings throughout his career. The use of the\npresent participle construction as subject (\"As for his Acting in\nConcert with the Heroick Prince of Savoy ... is one of the strongest\nArguments of his Art and Knowledge\"), long sentences hung together with\n\"and\" and qualified with subordinate clauses, and a propensity for\ncoining words (\"over-Honored and over-Paid\") make Defoe's writing\nnearly unmistakable and give it the hasty, colloquial quality. His\nLatin quotations are off hand and rather careless.\nAt the same time, Defoe has great stylistic virtuosity. He is always\ndirect and forceful. Although he is attacking some of the most powerful\nmen in politics and literature in _The Life_, there is nothing at all\ndeferential. He includes trivial and often superfluous details which\ngive whatever he writes an authentic tone; these details may be places\n(\"After several Marches, we came to the Confines of Haynault, within a\nLeague of a small Town call'd Walcourt....\"), names of people (\"Mr.\nSizar was our Pay-Master General....\"), or observations (\"twas\nsupposed we would have a long and a late Fatigue\"). The same sort of\nverisimilitude which deceived the readers of _Memoirs of Captain\nCarleton_ and _Journal of the Plague Year_ supports the illusion of an\neye witness account. Defoe's metaphors are also distinctive. While\nthere are no great number, they are graphic, often simplify and\ncondense an idea, and join image and idea in much the same way that\nseventeenth-century conceits do. Drawing on the common place, the\noriginality and force comes from their aptness (\"'tis easie to guess\nout of what Quiver this Arrow of Scandal was drawn,\" \"For the most\neminent Virtues are but as so many fair Marks set up on high for\nEnvy to shoot at with her poysonous darts\"). Characteristic\nidioms--\"Engineer that stands behind the curtains,\" \"the Lord knows who\nand where\"--can be found on every page. Small touches such as an\nallusion to one of Defoe's favorite jokes (Lord Craven's retort to de\nVere concerning his ancestry) can also be identified.\nFurthermore, the allusions to historical and Biblical figures are\nconsistent with Defoe's life-long usage, opinions and interests. Sir\nWalter Raleigh and Hannibal, Moses and Solomon are referred to for the\nsame purposes in writings from _The Shortest Way with Dissenters_ to\n_Atalantis Major_ (a typically explicit analog: from _The Shortest\nWay_--\"Moses was a merciful meek man\" and from _The Life_--\"Moses ...\none of the Meekest Men upon the Earth\"). Defoe habitually commented on\nthe policies of military men and statesmen, traced topography, and\nincluded the large features of military campaigns which could be found\nin printed records. Defoe's opinions on drinking, swearing, reliance on\nProvidence, leadership qualities, gratitude, and courage, to mention a\nfew, are consistent throughout his life and found in this pamphlet. For\nexample, he makes the same distinctions in types of courage in _Journal\nof the Plague Year_, the _Review_, _Robinson Crusoe_, _Atalantis\nMajor_, and _Memoirs of Captain Carleton_ that he does in _The Life_\n(\"True courage cannot proceed from what Sir Walter Raleigh finely calls\nthe art or philosophy of quarrel. No! It must be the issue of\nprinciple...\").\nMoreover, the pamphlet itself bears certain marks indicative of\nDefoe's hand. It was published by John Baker, \"at the Black-Boy in\nPater-noster-Row,\" Defoe's usual publisher for that year. Had it been\npublished by, say, Tonson, the immediate conclusion would be that it\nwas not Defoe's. Baker appeared to take greater care with Defoe's\npamphlets than he did with some others; _A Defence of Dr. Sacheverell_,\nfor example, has fifty lines of small type to the page. Six other\ntracts by Defoe have titles beginning with \"Short\" or \"Shortest.\" The\nuse of the eye witness narrator and the soldier narrator are recurring\ndevices which Defoe used to protect himself or his sources and to add\nweight to what he was purporting to be factual.\nFinally Marlborough was one of Defoe's heroes until at least late 1711.\nHe praises him highly in _Seldom Comes a Better_, _Atalantis Major_,\nand _The Quaker's Sermon_. It is with reluctance that Defoe is\npersuaded that Marlborough must be displaced, and even in the poem on\nthe occasion of Marlborough's funeral, his disapproval seems to be more\nfor the ostentatiousness and inappropriateness of the funeral than for\nthe man himself. All in all, there is scarcely a line in _The Life_\nwhich does not bear Defoe's fingerprints.\nWILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY\nUNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES\nThe Augustan Reprint Society\nPUBLICATIONS IN PRINT\nThe Augustan Reprint Society\nPUBLICATIONS IN PRINT\n 16. Henry Nevil Payne, _The Fatal Jealousie_ (1673).\n 18. \"Of Genius,\" in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10\n(1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).\n 19. Susanna Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709).\n 20. Lewis Theobald, _Preface to the Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).\n 22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and two\n_Rambler_ papers (1750).\n 23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).\n 26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792).\n 31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751),\nand _The Eton College Manuscript_.\n 41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732).\n109. Sir William Temple, _An Essay Upon the Original and Nature of\nGovernment_ (1680).\n110. John Tutchin, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700).\n111. _Political Justice_ (1736).\n113. T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_ (1698).\n114. Two Poems Against Pope: Leonard Welsted, _One Epistle to Mr. A.\nPope_ (1730); and _The Blatant Beast_ (1742).\n115. Daniel Defoe and others, _Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs.\nVeal_.\n116. Charles Macklin, _The Convent Garden Theatre_ (1752).\n117. Sir Roger L'Estrange, _Citt and Bumpkin_ (1680).\n118. Henry More, _Enthusiasmus Triumphatus_ (1662).\n119. Thomas Traherne, _Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation_\n120. Bernard Mandeville, _Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables_\n123. Edmond Malone, _Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed to\nMr. Thomas Rowley_ (1782).\n124. _The Female Wits_ (1704).\n125. _The Scribleriad_ (1742). Lord Hervey, _The Difference Between\nVerbal and Practical Virtue_ (1742).\n133. John Courtenay, _A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral\nCharacter of the Late Samuel Johnson_ (1786).\n134. John Downes, _Roscius Anglicanus_ (1708).\n135. Sir John Hill, _Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise_ (1766).\n136. Thomas Sheridan, _Discourse ... Being Introductory to His Course\nof Lectures on Elocution and the English Language_ (1759).\n137. Arthur Murphy, _The Englishman From Paris_ (1736).\n138. [Catherine Trotter] _Olinda's Adventures_ (1718).\n139. John Ogilvie, _An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients_\n140. _A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1726) and _Pudding Burnt to\nPot or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1727).\n141. Selections from Sir Roger L'Estrange's _Observator_ (1681-1687).\n142. Anthony Collins, _A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in\nWriting_ (1729).\n143. _A Letter From A Clergyman to His Friend, With An Account of the\nTravels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver_ (1726).\n144. _The Art of Architecture, A Poem. In Imitation of Horace's Art of\nPoetry_ (1742).\n145-146. Thomas Shelton, _A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing_\n(1642) and _Tachygraphy_ (1647).\n147-148. _Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson_ (1782).\n149. _Poeta de Tristibus: or the Poet's Complaint_ (1682).\n150. Gerard Langbaine, _Momus Triumphans: or the Plagiaries of the\nEnglish Stage_ (1687).\n151-152. Evan Lloyd, _The Methodist. A Poem_ (1766).\n153. _Are these Things So?_ (1740), and _The Great Man's Answer to Are\nthese Things So?_ (1740).\n154. Arbuthnotiana: _The Story of the St. Alb-ns Ghost_ (1712), and _A\nCatalogue of Dr. Arbuthnot's Library_ (1779).\n155-156. A Selection of Emblems from Herman Hugo's _Pia Desideria_\n(1624), with English Adaptations by Francis Quarles and Edmund Arwaker.\n157. William Mountfort, _The Life and Death of Doctor Faustus_ (1697).\n158. Colley Cibber, _A Letter from Mr. Cibber, to Mr. Pope_ (1742).\n159. [Catherine Clive], _The Case of Mrs. Clive_ (1744).\n160. [Thomas Tryon], _A Discourse ... of Phrensie, Madness or\nDistraction_ from _A Treatise of Dreams and Visions_ [1689].\n161. Robert Blair, _The Grave. A Poem_ (1743).\n162. Bernard Mandeville, _A Modest Defence of Publick Stews_ (1724).\n    Publications of the first fifteen years of the Society (numbers\n    1-90) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $16.00\n    per unit, from the Kraus Reprint Company, 16 East 46th Street,\n    Publications in print are available at the regular membership rate\n    of $5.00 for individuals and $8.00 for institutions per year.\n    Prices of single issues may be obtained upon request. Subsequent\n    publications may be checked in the annual prospectus.\n    _Make check or money order payable to_\n    THE REGENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA\n    and send to\n    The William Andrews Clark Memorial Library\n    2520 Cimarron Street, Los Angeles, California 90018", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  A Short Narrative of the Life and Actions of His Grace John, D. of Marlborogh\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "E-text prepared by Internet Archive; University of Florida; and Charlie\nKirschner and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team\nEditorial notes:    Daniel Defoe's tale of Robinson Crusoe was first\n                    published in 1719. Numerous--almost countless--\n                    versions were published subsequently. Several are\n                    available in Project Gutenberg's library, including\n                    (https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/521 etc.). Various\n                    tales have been included in the different versions,\n                    usually under the names of \"The Adventures of\n                    Robinson Crusoe,\" \"The Further Adventures of\n                    Robinson Crusoe,\" and \"Robinson Crusoe's Vision of\n                    the Angelic World.\" Even an account of the\n                    adventures of Alexander Selkirk, who was marooned\n                    for four years on an island in the Pacific Ocean,\n                    has been incorporated into some versions of the\n                    Robinson Crusoe stories. All of these tales are\n                    incorporated into this e-book taken from an 1801\n                    Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n                    file which includes the original illustrations.\n                    (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/11866/11866.zip)\nTranscriber's Note: Several pages (23, 90, 134, and 224-226) of the\n                    original book were unavailable for scanning. Page\n                    images of the identical text were subsequently\n                    made available by the University of Florida Baldwin\n                    Library of Historical Children's Literature and\n                    have been added to this e-book. The page images can\n                    be seen by the reader at\nTHE\nLIFE\nAND MOST\nSURPRISING ADVENTURES\nOF\nROBINSON CRUSOE,\nOF YORK, MARINER.\nWHO LIVED EIGHT AND TWENTY YEARS IN AN\nUNINHABITED ISLAND, ON THE COAST OF\nAMERICA, NEAR THE MOUTH OF THE\nGREAT RIVER OROONOQUE,\nIncluding an Account of\nHIS DELIVERANCE THENCE, AND HIS AFTER\nSURPRISING ADVENTURES.\nWITH\nHIS VISION OF THE ANGELIC WORLD.\nAN IMPROVED EDITION,\nIllustrated with eight Engravings, from Original designs.\nTo which is annexed,\nTHE REMARKABLE HISTORY OF\nALEXANDER SELKIRK;\nWho lived four years and four months in a state of Solitude,\non the Island of Juan Fernandez, in the Pacific Ocean,\nFRONTISPIECE.\n[Illustration: I Was Wrapt Up In Contemplation And Often Lifted\nUp My Hands, With The Profoundest Humility, To\nThe Divine Powers, For Saving My Life, When The\nRest Of My Companions Were All Drowned.\n_Dr. and Eng. by A. Carse; Edin_.]\nPREFACE.\nIf ever the story of any private man's adventures in the world were\nworth making public, and were acceptable when published, the Editor of\nthis account thinks this will be so.\nThe wonders of this man's life exceed all that (he thinks) is to be\nfound extant; the life of one man being scarce capable of a\ngreater variety.\nThe story is told with modesty, with seriousness, and with a religious\napplication of events to the uses to which wise men always apply them,\nviz. to the instruction of others by this example, and to justify and\nhonour the wisdom of Providence in all the variety of our circumstances,\nlet them happen how they will.\nThe editor believes this narrative to be a just history of fact; neither\nis their any appearance of fiction in it: and though he is well aware\nthere are many, who on account of the very singular preservations the\nauthor met with, will give it the name of romance; yet in which ever of\nthese lights it shall be viewed, he imagines, that the improvement of\nit, as well as the diversion, as to the instruction of the reader, will\nbe the same; and as such, he thinks, without farther compliment to the\nworld, he does them a great service in the publication.\nTHE\nLIFE AND ADVENTURES\nOF\nROBINSON CRUSOE.\nI was born at York, in the year 1632, of a reputable family. My father\nwas a native of Bremen, who by merchandizing at Hull for some time,\ngained a very plentiful fortune. He married my mother at York, who\nreceived her first breath in that country: and as her maiden name was\nRobinson, I was called _Robinson Kreutznaer_: which not being easily\npronounced in the English tongue, we are commonly known by the name\nof Crusoe.\nI was the youngest of three brothers. The eldest was a lieutenant\ncolonel in Lochart's regiment, but slain by the Spaniards: what became\nof the other, I could never learn.\nNo charge or pains were wanting in my education.--My father designed me\nfor the law; yet nothing would serve me but I must go to sea, both\nagainst the will of my father, the tears of my mother, and the\nentreaties of friends. One morning my father expostulated very warmly\nwith me: What reason, says he, have you to leave your native country,\nwhere there must be a more certain prospect of content and happiness, to\nenter into a wandering condition of uneasiness and uncertainty? He\nrecommended to me Augur's wish, \"Neither to desire poverty nor riches:\"\nthat a middle state of life was the most happy, and that the high\ntowering thoughts of raising our condition by wandering abroad, were\nsurrounded with misery and danger, and often ended with confusion and\ndisappointment. I entreat you, nay, I command you, (says he) to desist\nfrom these intentions. Consider your elder brother, who laid down his\nlife for his honour, or rather lost it for his disobedience to my will.\nIf you will go (added he) my prayers shall however be offered for your\npreservation; but a time may come, when, desolate, oppressed, or\nforsaken, you may wish you had taken your poor despised father's\ncounsel.--He pronounced these words with such a moving and paternal\neloquence, while floods of tears ran down his aged cheeks, that it\nseemed to stem the torrent of my resolutions. But this soon wore, off,\nand a little after I informed my mother, that I could not settle to any\nbusiness, my resolutions were so strong to see the world; and begged she\nwould gain my father's consent only to go one voyage; which, if I did\nnot prove prosperous, I would never attempt a second. But my desire was\nas vain as my folly in making. My mother passionately expressed her\ndislike of this, proposal, telling me, \"That as she saw I was bent upon\nmy own destruction, contrary to their will and my duty, she would say no\nmore; but leave me to do whatever I pleased.\"\nI was then, I think, nineteen years old, when one time being Hull; I met\na school-fellow of mine, going along with his father, who was master of\na ship, to London; and acquainted him with my wandering desires; he\nassured me of a free passage, and a plentiful share of what was\nnecessary. Thus, without imploring a blessing, or taking farewell of my\nparents, I took shipping on the first of September 1651. We set sail\nsoon after, and our ship had scarce left the Humber astern, when there\narose so violent a storm, that, being extremely sea-sick, I concluded\nthe judgment of God deservedly followed me for my disobedience to my\ndear parents. It was then I called to mind, the good advice of my\nfather; how easy and comfortable was a middle state of life; and I\nfirmly resolved, if it pleased God to set me on dry land once more, I\nwould return to my parents, implore their forgiveness, and bid a final\nadieu to my wandering inclinations.\nSuch were my thoughts while the storm continued: but these good\nresolutions decreased with the danger; more especially when my companion\ncame to me, clapping me on the shoulder: \"What, Bob!\" said he, \"sure you\nwas not frightened last night with scarce a capful of wind?\"--\"And do\nyou\" cried I, \"call such a violent storm a capful of wind?\"--\"A storm,\nyou fool you,\" said he, \"this is nothing; a good ship and sea-room\nalways baffles such a foolish squall of wind as that: But you're a fresh\nwater sailor: Come boy, turn out, see what fine weather we have now, and\na good bowl of punch will drown all your past sorrows.\" In short, the\npunch was made, I was drunk and in one night's time drowned both my\nrepentance and my good resolutions, forgetting entirely the vows and\npromises I made in my distress: and whenever any reflections would\nreturn on me, what by company, and what by drinking, I soon mastered\nthose fits, as I deridingly called them. But this only made way for\nanother trial, whereby I could not but see how much I was beholden to\nkind Providence.\nUpon the sixth day we came to an anchor in Harwich road, where we lay\nwind bound with some Newcastle ships; and there being good anchorage,\nand our cables found, the seamen forgot their late toil and danger, and\nspent the time as merry as if they had been on shore. But on the eight\nday there arose a brisk gale of wind, which prevented our tiding it up\nthe river; and still increasing, our ship rode forecastle in, and\nshipped several large seas.\nIt was not long before horror seized the seamen themselves, and I heard\nthe master express this melancholy ejaculation, \"Lord have mercy upon\nus, we shall be all, lost and undone!\" For my part, sick unto death, I\nkept my cabin till the universal and terribly dreadful apprehensions of\nour speedy fate made me get upon deck; and there I was affrighted\nindeed. The sea went mountains high: I could see nothing but distress\naround us; two ships had cut their masts on board, and another was\nfoundered; two more that had lost their anchors, were forced out to the\nmercy of the ocean; and to save our lives we were forced to cut our\nforemast and mainmast quite away.\nWho is their so ignorant as not to judge of my dreadful condition? I was\nbut a fresh-water sailor and therefore it seemed more terrible. Our ship\nwas very good, but over-loaded; which made the sailors often cry out,\n\"She would founder!\" Words I then was ignorant of. All this while the\nstorm continuing, and rather increasing, the master and the most sober\npart of his men went to prayers, expecting death every moment. In the\nmiddle of the night one cried out, \"We had sprung a leak;\" another,\n\"That there was four feet water in the hold.\" I was just ready to expire\nwith fear, when immediately all hands were called to the pump; and the\nmen forced me also in that extremity to share with them in their labour.\nWhile thus employed, the master espying some light colliers, fired a gun\nas a signal of distress; and I, not understanding what it meant, and\nthinking that either the ship broke, or some dreadful thing happened,\nfell into a swoon. Even in that common condition of woe, nobody minded\nme, excepting to thrust me aside with their feet, thinking me dead, and\nit was a great while before I recovered.\nHappy it was for us, when, upon the signal given, they ventured out\ntheir boats to save our lives. All our pumping had been in vain, and\nvain had all our attempts been, had they not come to our ship's side,\nand our men cast them a rope over the stern with a buoy to it, which\nafter great labour they got hold of, and we hauling them up to us got\ninto their boat, and left our ship which we perceived sink within less\nthan a quarter of an hour; and thus I learned what was meant by\n_foundering at sea._ And now the men incessantly laboured to recover\ntheir, own ship; but the sea ran so high, and the wind blew so hard,\nthat they thought it convenient to hale within shore; which, with great\ndifficulty and danger, at last we happily effected landing at a place\ncalled _Cromer_, not far from Winterton lighthouse; from whence we all\nwalked to Yarmouth, where, as objects of pity, many good people\nfurnished us with necessaries to carry us either to Hull or London.\nStrange, after all this, like the prodigal son, I did not return to my\nfather; who hearing of the ship's calamity, for a long time thought me\nentombed in the deep. No doubt but I should have _shared on his fatted\ncalf_, as the scripture expresseth it; but my ill fate still pusheth me\non, in spite of the powerful convictions of reason and conscience.\nWhen we had been at Yarmouth three days, I met my old companion, who had\ngiven me the invitation to go on board along with his father. His\nbehaviour and speech were altered, and in a melancholy manner asked me\nhow I did, telling his father who I was, & how I had made this voyage\nonly for a trial to proceed further abroad. Upon which the old gentleman\nturning to me gravely, said, \"Young man, you ought never to go to sea\nany more, but to take this for a certain sign that you never will\nprosper in a sea-faring condition.\" \"Sir\" answered I, \"will you take the\nsame resolution?\" \"It is a different case,\" said he, \"it is my calling,\nand consequently my duty; but as you have made this voyage for a trial,\nyou see what ill success heaven has set before your eyes; and perhaps\nour miseries have been on your account, like _Jonah_ in the ship of\n_Tarshish_. But pray what are you, and on what account did you go to\nsea?\" Upon which I very freely declared my whole story: at the end of\nwhich he made this exclamation: \"Ye sacred powers: what had I committed,\nthat such a wretch should enter into my ship to heap upon me such a\ndeluge of miseries!\" But soon recollecting his passion, \"Young man\" said\nhe, \"if you do not go back, depend upon it, wherever you go, you will\nmeet with disasters and disappointments till your father's words are\nfulfilled upon you.\" And so we parted.\nI thought at first to return home; but shame opposed that good motion,\nas thinking I should be laughed at by my neighbours and acquaintance. So\nstrange is the nature of youth, who are not ashamed to sin, but yet\nashamed to repent; and so far from being ashamed of those actions for\nwhich they may be acounted fools, they think it folly to return to their\nduty, which is the principal mark of wisdom. In short I travelled up to\nLondon, resolving upon a voyage, and a voyage I soon heard of, by my\nacquaintance with a captain who took a fancy to me, to go to the coast\nof Guinea. Having some money, and appearing like a gentleman, I went on\nboard, not as a common sailor or foremast man; nay, the commander agreed\nI should go that voyage with him without any expence; that I should be\nhis messmate and companion, and I was very welcome to carry any thing\nwith me, and make the best merchandise I could.\nI blessed my happy fortune, and humbly thanked my captain for this\noffer; and acquainting my friends in Yorkshire, forty pounds were sent\nme, the greatest part of which my dear father and mother contributed to,\nwith which I bought toys and trifles, as the captain directed me. My\ncaptain also taught me navigation, how to keep an account of the ship's\ncourse, take an observation, and led me into the knowledge of several\nuseful branches of the mathematics. And indeed this voyage made me both\na sailor and a merchant; for I brought home five pounds nine ounces of\ngold-dust for my adventure which produced, at my return to London,\nalmost three hundred pounds. But in this voyage I was extremely sick,\nbeing thrown into a violent calenture through the excessive heat,\ntrading upon the coast from the latitude of fifteen degrees north, even\nto the line itself.\nBut alas! my dear friend the captain soon departed this life after his\narrival. This was a sensible grief to me; yet I resolved to go another\nwith his mate, who had now got command of the ship. This proved a very\nunsuccessful one; for though I did not carry quite a hundred pounds of\nmy late acquired wealth, (so that I had two hundred pounds left, which I\nreposed with the captain's widow, who was an honest gentlewoman) yet my\nmisfortunes in this unhappy voyage were very great. For our ship sailing\ntowards the Canary islands, we were chased by a Salee rover; and in\nspite of all the haste we could make by crowding as much canvas as our\nyards could spread, or our masts carry, the pirate gained upon us, to\nthat we prepared ourselves to fight. They had eighteen guns, and we had\nbut twelve. About three in the afternoon there was a desperate\nengagement, wherein many were killed and wounded on both sides; but\nfinding ourselves overpowered with numbers, our ship disabled and\nourselves too impotent to have the least hopes of success, we were\nforced to surrender; and accordingly were all carried prisoners into the\nport of Salee. Our men were sent to the Emperor's court to be sold\nthere, but the pirate captain taking notice of me, kept me to be his\nown slave.\nIn this condition, I thought myself the most miserable creature on\nearth, and the prophecy of my father came afresh into my thoughts.\nHowever, my condition was better than I thought it to be, as will soon\nappear. Some hopes indeed I had that my new patron would go to sea\nagain, where he might be taken by a Spanish or Portuguese man of war,\nand then I should be set at liberty. But in this I was mistaken; for he\nnever took me with him, but left me to look after his little garden, and\ndo the drudgery of his house, and when he returned from sea, would make,\nme lie in the cabin, and look after the ship. I had no one that I could\ncommunicate my thoughts to, which were continually meditating my escape;\nno Englishman, Irishman, or Scotchman here but myself; and for two years\nI could see nothing practicable, but only pleased myself with the\nimagination.\nAfter some length of time, my patron, as I found, grew; so poor that he\ncould not fit out his ship as usual; and then he used constantly, once\nor twice a week, if the weather was fair, to go out a fishing, taking me\nand a young Moresco Boy to row the boat; and to much pleased was he with\nme for my dexterity in catching the fish, that he would often send me\nwith a Moor, who was one of his kinsemen, and the Moresco youth, to\ncatch a dish of fish for him.\nOne morning, as we were at the sport, there arose such a thick fog that\nwe lost sight of the shore; and rowing we knew not which way, we\nlaboured all the night, and in the morning found ourselves in the ocean,\ntwo leagues from land. However, we attained there at length, and made\nthe greater haste, because our stomachs were exceedingly sharp and\nhungry. In order to prevent such disasters for the future, my patron\nordered a carpenter to build a little state room or cabin in the middle\nof the long-boat, with a place behind it to steer and hale home the\nmain-sheet, with other conveniences to keep him from the weather, as\nalso lockers to put in all manner of provisions, with a handsome\nshoulder of mutton sail, gibing over the cabin.\nIn this he frequently took us out a fishing: and one time inviting two\nor three persons of distinction to go with him, made provision\nextraordinary, providing also three fusees with powder and shot, that\nthey might have some sport at fowling along the sea-coast. The next\nmorning the boat was made clean, her ancient and pendants on, and every\nthing ready: but their minds altering, my patron ordered us to go a\nfishing, for that his guests would certainly sup with him that night.\nAnd now I began to think of my deliverance indeed. In order to this I\npersuaded to Moor to get some provisions on board, as not daring to\nmeddle with our patron's: and he taking my advice, we stored ourselves\nwith rusk biscuit, and three jars of water. Besides, I privately\nconveyed into the boat a bottle or brandy, some twine, thread, a hammer,\nhatchet, and a saw; and, in particular, some bees wax, which was a great\ncomfort to me, and served to make candles. I then persuaded Muley (for\nso was the Moor called) to procure some powder and shot, pretending to\nkill sea curlues, which he innocently and readily agreed to. In short,\nbeing provided with all things necessary, we sailed out, resolving for\nmy own part to make my escape, though it should cost me my life.\nWhen we had passed the castle, we fell a fishing; but though I knew\nthere was a bite, I dissembled the matter, in order to put out further\nto sea. Accordingly we ran a league further; when giving the boy the\nhelm, and pretending to stoop for something, I seized Muley by surprise\nand threw him overboard. As he was an excellent swimmer, he soon arose\nand made towards the boat; upon which I took out a fusee, and presented\nat him: \"Muley\" said I, \"I never yet designed to do you any harm, and\nseek nothing now but my redemption. I know you are able enough to swim\nto shore, and save your life: but if you are resolved to follow me to\nthe endangering of mine, the very moment you proceed, I will shoot you\nthrough the head.\" The harmless creature at these words, turned himself\nfrom me, and I make no doubt got safe to land. Them turning to the boy\nXury, I perceived he trembled at the action: but I put him out of all\nfear, telling him, that if he would be true and faithful to me, I would\ndo well by him. \"And therefore,\" said I, \"you must stroke your face to\nbe faithful: and, as the Turks have learned you, swear by Mahomet, and\nthe beard of your father, or else I will throw you into the sea also.\"\nSo innocent did the child then look, and with such an obliging smile\nconsented, that I readily believed him, and from that day forward began\nto love him entirely.\nWe then pursued our voyage: and least they should think me gone to the\nStraits' mouth, I kept to the southward to the truly Barbarian coast;\nbut in the dusk of the evening, I changed my course, and steering\ndirectly S. and by E. that I might keep near the shore: and, having a\nfresh gale of wind, with a pleasant smooth sea, by three o'clock next\nday I was one hundred and fifty miles beyond the Emperor of Morocco's\ndominions. Yet still having the dreadful apprehensions of being retaken,\nI continued sailing for five days successively, till such time as the\nwind shifting to the southward, made me conclude, that if any vessel was\nin the chase of me, they would proceed no farther. After so much fatigue\nand thought, I anchored at the mouth of a little river, I knew not what\nor where: neither did I then see, any people. What I principally wanted\nwas fresh water; and I was resolved about dusk to swim ashore. But no\nsooner did the gloomy clouds of night begin to succeed the declining\nday, when we heard such barking, roaring, and howling of wild creatures,\nthat one might have thought the very strongest monsters of nature, or\ninfernal spirits had their residence there. Poor Xury, almost dead with\nfear, entreated me not to go on shore that night. \"Supposing I don't,\nXury,\" said I, \"and in the morning we should see men who are worse than\nthose we fear, what then?\" \"O den we may give dem de shoot gun,\" replied\nXury, laughing, \"and de gun make dem all run away.\"\nThe wit and broken English which the boy had learned among the captives\nof our nation, pleased me entirely: and, to add to his cheerfulness I\ngave him a dram of the bottle: we could get but little sleep all the\nnight for those terrible howlings they made; and, indeed, we were both\nvery much affrighted, when, by the rollings of the water, and other\ntokens, we justly concluded one of these monsters made towards our boat.\nI could not see till it came within two oars length, when taking my\nfusee, I let fly at him. Whether I hit him or no, I cannot tell; but he\nmade towards the shore, and the noise of my gun increased the\nstupendious noise of the monsters.\nThe next morning I was resolved to go on shore to get fresh water, and\nventure my life among the beasts or savages should either attack me.\nXury said, he would take one of the jars and bring me some. I asked him\nwhy he would go and not I? The poor boy answered, \"If wild mans come\nthey eat me, you go away.\" A mind scarcely now to be imitated, so\ncontrary to self-preservation, the most powerful law of Nature. This\nindeed increased my affection to the child. \"Well, dear Xury,\" said I,\nwe will both go ashore, both kill wild mans, and they \"shall eat neither\nof us.\" So giving Xury a piece of rusk-bread to eat, and a dram, we\nwaded ashore, carrying nothing with us but our arms, and two jars for\nwater. I did not go out of sight of the boat, as dreading the savages\ncoming down the river in their canoes; but the boy seeing a low descent\nor vale about a mile in the country, he wandered to it: and then running\nback to me with great precipitation, I thought he was pursued by some\nsavage or wild beast; upon which I approached, resolving to perish or\nprotect him from danger. As he came nearer to me, I saw something\nhanging over his shoulders, which was a creature he had shot like a\nhare, but different in colour, and longer legs; however, we were glad of\nit, for it proved wholesome, and nourishing meat: but what added to our\njoy was, my boy assured me there was plenty of water, and that he _see\nno wild mans. _And greater still was our comfort when we found fresh\nwater in the creek where we were when the tide was out, without going so\nfar up into the country.\nIn this place I began to consider that the Canary and Cape de Verde\nislands lay not for off: but having no instrument, I knew not what\nlatitude, or when to stand off to sea for them; yet my hopes were, I\nshould meet some of the English trading vessels, who would relieve and\ntake us in.\nThe place I was in was no doubt that wild country, inhabited only by a\nfew, that lies between the Emperor of Morocco's dominions and the\nNegroes. It is filled with wild beasts and the Moors use it for hunting\nchiefly.--From this place I thought I saw the top of the mountain\nTeneriff in the Canaries: which made me try twice to attain it: but as\noften was I drove back, and so forced to pursue my fortune along shore.\nEarly one morning we came to an anchor under a little point of land, but\npretty high; and the tide beginning to flow, we lay ready to go further\nin--But Xury, whose youthful and penetrating eyes were sharper then\nmine, in a soft tone, desired me to keep far from land, lest we should\nbe devoured, \"For look yonder, mayter,\" said he, \"and see de dreadful\nmonster fast asleep on de side of de hill.\" Accordingly looking where he\npointed, I espied a fearful monster indeed. It was a terrible great lion\nthat lay on shore, covered as it were by a shade of a piece of the hill.\n\"Xury,\" said I, \"you shall go on shore and kill him.\" But the boy looked\namazed: \"Me kill him!\" says he, \"he eat me at one mouth:\" meaning one\nmouthful. Upon which I bid him lie still, and charging my biggest gun\nwith two slugs, and a good charge of powder, I took the best aim I could\nto shoot him through the head, but his leg lying over his nose, the slug\nbroke his knee-bone. The lion awaking with the pain, got up, but soon\nfell down, giving the most hideous groan I ever heard: but taking my\nsecond piece, I shot him through the head, and then he lay struggling\nfor life. Upon this Xury took heart and desired my leave to go on shore.\n\"Go then,\" said I. Upon which taking a little gun in one hand, he swam\nto shore with the other, and coming close to the lion, put a period to\nhis life, by shooting him again through the head.\nBut this was spending our ammunition in vain, the flesh not being good\nto eat. Xury was like a champion, and comes on board for a hatchet, to\ncut of the head of his enemy: but not having strength to perform it, he\ncut off and brought me a foot. I bethought me, however, that his skin\nwould be of use. This work cost Xury and me a whole day: when spreading\nit on the top of our cabin, the hot beams of the sun effectually dried\nit in two days time, and it afterwards served me for a bed to lie on.\nAnd now we sailed southerly, living sparingly on our provisions, and\nwent no oftener on shore than we were obliged for fresh water. My design\nwas to make the river Gambia or Senegal, or any where about the Cape de\nVerde, in hopes to meet some European ship. If Providence did not so\nfavour me, my next course was to seek for the islands, or lose my life\namong the Negroes. And in a word, I put my whole stress upon this,\n\"Either that I must meet with some ship or certainly perish.\"\nOne day as we were sailing along, we saw people stand on the shore\nlooking at us: we could also perceive they were black and stark naked. I\nwas inclined to go on shore, but Xury cried, \"No, no:\" however, I\napproached nearer, and I found they run along the shore by me a good\nway. They had no weapons in their hands, except one, who held a long\nstick, which Xury told me was a lance, with which they could kill at a\ngreat distance. I talked to them by signs and made them sensible I\nwanted something to eat: they beckoned to me to stop my boat, while two\nof them ran up into the country, and in less than half an hour came\nback, and brought with them two pieces of dried flesh, and some corn,\nwhich we kindly accepted; and to prevent any fears on either side, they\nbrought the food to the shore, laid it down, then went and stood a great\nway off till we fetched it on board, and then came close to us again.\nBut while we were returning thanks to them, being all we could afford,\ntwo mighty creatures came from the mountains: one as it were pursuing\nthe other with great fury, which we were the rather inclined to believe\nas they seldom appear but in the night: and both these swiftly passing\nby the Negroes, jumped into the sea, wantonly swimming about, as tho'\nthe diversion of the waters had put a stop to their fierceness. At last\none of them coming nearer to my boat than I expected or desired, I shot\nhim directly through the head; upon which he sunk immediately, and yet\nrising again, would have willingly made the shore: but between the wound\nand the strangling of the water, he died before he could reach it.\nIt is impossible to express the consternation the poor Negroes were in\nat the firing of my gun; much less can I mention their surprise, when\nthey perceived the creature to be slain by it. I made signs to them to\ndraw near it with a rope, and then gave it them to hale on shore. It was\na beautiful leopard, which made me desire its skin: and the Negroes\nseeming to covet the carcase, I freely gave it to them. As for the other\nleopard, it made to shore, and ran with prodigious swiftness out of\nsight. The Negroes having kindly furnished me with water, and with what\nroots and grains their country afforded, I took my leave, and, after\neleven days sail, came in sight of the Cape de Verde, and those islands\ncalled by its name. But the great distance I was from it, and fearing\ncontrary winds would prevent my reaching them, I began to grow\nmelancholy and dejected, when, upon a sudden, Xury cried out, \"Master!\nMaster! a ship with a sail!\" and looked as affrighted as if it was his\nmaster's ship sent in search of us. But I soon discovered she was a\nPortuguese ship, as I thought bound to the coast of Guinea for Negroes.\nUpon which I strove for life to come up to them. But vain had it been,\nif through their perspective glasses they had not perceived me and\nshortened their sail to let me come up. Encouraged at this, I set up my\npatron's ancient, and fired a gun, both as signals of distress; upon\nwhich they very kindly lay to, so that in three hours time I came up\nwith them. They spoke to me in Portuguese, Spanish, and French, but\nneither of these did I understand; till at length a Scots sailor called,\nand then I told him I was an Englishman, who had escaped from the Moors\nat Sallee: upon which they took me kindly on board, with all my effects.\nSurely none can express the inconceivable joy I felt at this happy\ndeliverance! who from being a late miserable and forlorn creature was\nnot only relieved, but in favour with the master of the ship, to whom,\nin return for my deliverance, I offered all I had. \"God forbid,\" said\nhe, \"that I should take any thing from you. Every thing shall be\ndelivered to you when you come to Brazil. If I have saved your life it\nis no more than I should expect to receive myself from any other, when\nin the same circumstances I should happen to meet the like deliverance.\nAnd should I take from you what you have, and leave you at Brazil, why,\nthis would be only taking away a life I had given. My charity teaches me\nbetter. Those effects you have will support you there, and provide you a\npassage home again.\" And, indeed, he acted with the strictest justice in\nwhat he did, taking my things into his possession, and giving me an\nexact inventory, even to my earthen jars. He bought my boat of me for\nthe ship's use, giving me a note of eighty pieces of eight, payable at\nBrazil; and if any body offered more, he would make it up. He also gave\nme 60 pieces for my boy Xury. It way with great reluctance I was\nprevailed upon to sell the child's liberty, who had served me so\nfaithfully; but the boy was willing himself; and it was agreed, that\nafter ten years he should be made free, upon his renouncing\nMahometanism, and embracing Christianity.\nHaving a pleasant voyage to the Brazils, we arrived in the Bay de Todos\nlos Santos, or All Saints Bay, in twenty-two days after. And here I\ncannot forget the generous treatment of the captain. He would take\nnothing for my passage, gave me twenty ducats for the leopard's skin,\nand thirty for the lion's. Every thing he caused to be delivered, and\nwhat I would sell he bought. In short I made about 220 pieces of my\ncargo; and with this stock I entered once more, as I may say into the\nscene of life.\nBeing recommended to an honest planter, I lived with him till such time\nas I was informed of the manner of their planting and making sugar; and\nseeing how well they lived, and how suddenly they grew rich, I was\nfilled with a desire to settle among them, and resolved to get my money\nremitted to me, and to purchase a plantation.\nTo be brief, I bought a settlement next door to an honest and kind\nneighbour, born at Lisbon, of English parents, whose plantation joining\nto mine, we improved it very amicably together. Both our stocks were\nlow, and for two years we planted only for food: but the third year we\nplanted some tobacco, and each of us dressed a large piece of ground the\nensuing year for planting canes. But now I found how much I wanted\nassistance, and repented the loss of my dear boy Xury.\nHaving none to assist me, my father's words came into my mind; and I\nused to ask myself, if what I sought was only a middle station of life,\nwhy could it not as well be obtained in England as here? When I pondered\non this with regret, the thoughts of my late deliverance forsook me. I\nhad none to converse with but my neighbour; no work to be done but by my\nown hands; it often made me say, my condition was like to that of a man\ncast upon a desolate island. So unhappy are we in our reflections, so\nforgetful of what good things we receive ourselves, and so unthankful\nfor our deliverance from these calamities that others endure.\nI, was in some measure settled, before the captain who took me up\ndeparted from the Brazils. One day I went to him, and told him what\nstock I had in London, desiring his assistance in getting it remitted;\nto which the good gentleman readily consented, but would only have me\nsend for half my money, lest it should miscarry; which, if it did, I\nmight still have the remainder to support me: and so taking letters of\nprocuration of me, bid me trouble myself no farther about it.\nAnd indeed wonderful was his kindness towards me; for he not only\nprocured the money I had drawn for upon my captain's widow, but sent me\nover a servant with a cargo proportionable to my condition. He also sent\nme over tools of all sorts, iron-work, and utensils necessary for my\nplantation, which proved to be of the greatest use to me in my business.\nWealth now accumulating on me, and uncommon success crowning my\nprosperous labours, I might have rested happy in that middle state of\nlife my father had so often recommended, yet nothing would content me,\nsuch was my evil genius, but I must leave this happy station, for a\nfoolish ambition in rising; and thus, once more, I cast myself into the\ngreatest gulph of misery that ever poor creature fell into. Having lived\nfour years in Brazil, I had not only learned the language, but\ncontracted acquaintance with the most eminent planters, and even the\nmerchants of St. Salvadore; to whom, once, by way of discourse, having\ngiven account of my two voyages to the coast of Guinea and the manner of\ntrading there for mere trifles, by which we furnish our plantations with\nNegroes, they gave such attention to what I said, that three of them\ncame one morning to me, and told me they had a secret proposal to make.\nAfter enjoining me to secrecy (it being an infringement on the powers of\nthe Kings of Portugal and Spain) they told me they had a mind to fit out\na ship to go to Guinea, in order to stock the plantation with Negroes,\nwhich as they could not be publicly sold, they would divide among them:\nand if I would go their supercargo in the ship, to manage the trading\npart, I should have ah equal share of the Negroes, without providing any\nstock. The thing indeed was fair enough, had I been in another\ncondition. But I, born to be my own destroyer, could not resist the\nproposal, but accepted the offer upon condition of their looking after\nmy plantation. So making a formal will, I bequeathed my effects to my\ngood friend the captain, as my universal heir; but obliged him to\ndispose of my effects as directed, one half of the produce to himself,\nand the other to be shipped to England.\nThe ship being fitted out, and all things ready, we set sail the first\nof September, 1659, being the same day eight-years I left my father and,\nmother in Yorkshire. We sailed northward upon the coast, in order to\ngain Africa, till we made Cape Augustine; from whence going farther into\nthe ocean, out of sight of land, we steered as though we were bound for\nthe isle Fernand de Norenba, leaving the islands on the east; and then\nit was that we met with a terrible tempest, which continued for twelve\ndays successively, so that the wind carried us wheresoever they pleased.\nIn this perplexity one of our men died, and one man and a boy were\nwashed overboard. When the weather cleared up a little, we found\nourselves eleven degrees north latitude, upon the coast of Guinea. Upon\nthis the captain gave reasons for returning; which I opposed,\ncounselling him to stand away for Barbadoes, which as I supposed, might\nbe attained in fifteen days. So altering our course, we sailed\nnorth-west and by west, in order to reach the Leeward Islands; but a\nsecond storm succeeding, drove us to the westward; so that we were\njustly afraid of falling into the hands of cruel savages, or the paws of\ndevouring beasts of prey.\nIn this great distress, one of our men, early in the morning cried out,\n_Land, land!_ which he had no sooner cried out, but our ship struck upon\na sand bank, and in a moment the sea broke over her in such a manner\nthat we expected we should all have perished immediately. We knew\nnothing where we were, or upon what land we were driven; whether an\nisland or the main, inhabited or not inhabited; and we could not so much\nas hope that the ship would hold out many minutes, without breaking in\npieces, except the wind by a miracle should turn about immediately.\nWhile we stood looking at one another, expecting death every moment, the\nmate lay a hold of the boat, and with the help of the rest got her flung\nover the ship's side, and getting all into her, being eleven of us,\ncommitted ourselves to God's mercy and the wild sea. And now we saw that\nthis last effort would not be a sufficient protection from death; so\nhigh did the sea rise, that it was impossible the boat should live. As\nto making sail, we had none; neither if we had, could we make use of\nany. So that when we had rowed, or rather were driven about a league and\na half, a raging wave, like a lofty mountain, came rolling astern of us,\nand took us with such fury, that at once it overset the boat. Thus being\nswallowed up in a moment, we had hardly time to call upon the tremendous\nname of God; much less to implore, in dying ejaculations, his infinite\nmercy to receive our departing souls.\nMen are generally counted insensible, when struggling in the pangs of\ndeath; but while I was overwhelmed with water, I had the most dreadful\napprehensions imaginable. For the joys of heaven and the torments of\nhell, seemed to present themselves before me in these dying agonies, and\neven small space of time, as it were, between life and death. I was\ngoing I thought I knew not whither, into a dismal gulf unknown, and as\nyet unperceived, never to behold my friends, nor the light of this world\nany more! Could I even have thought of annihilation, or a total\ndissolution of soul as well as body, the gloomy thoughts of having no\nfurther being, no knowledge of what we hoped for, but an eternal\n_quietus_, without life or sense: even that, I say, would have been\nenough to strike me with horror and confusion! I strove, however, to the\nlast extremity, while all my companions were overpowered and entombed in\nthe deep: and it was with great difficulty I kept my breath till the\nwave spent itself, and retiring back, left me on the shore half dead\nwith the water I had taken in. As soon as I got on my feet, I ran as\nfast as I could, lest another wave should pursue me, and carry me back\nagain. But for all the haste I made, I could not avoid it: for the sea\ncame after me like a high mountain, or furious enemy; so that my\nbusiness was to hold my breath, and by raising myself on the water,\npreserve it by swimming. The next dreadful wave buried me at once twenty\nor thirty feet deep, but at the same time carried me with a mighty force\nand swiftness toward the shore: when raising myself, I held out as well\nas possible, till at length the water having spent itself, began to\nreturn, at which I struck forward, and feeling ground with my feet, I\ntook to my heels again. Thus being served twice more, I was at length\ndashed against a piece of a rock, in such a manner as left me senseless;\nbut recovering a little before the return of the wave, which, no doubt,\nwould then have overwhelmed me, I held fast by the rock till those\nsucceeding waves abated; and then fetching another run, was overtaken by\na small wave, which was soon conquered. But before any more could\novertake me, I reached the main land, where clambering up the cliffs of\nthe shore, tired and almost spent I sat down on the grass, free from the\ndangers of the foaming ocean.\nNo tongue can express the ecstasies and transports that my soul felt at\nthe happy deliverance. It was like a reprieve to a dying malefactor,\nwith a halter about his neck, and ready to be turned off. I was wrapt up\nin contemplation and often lifted up my hands, with the profoundest\nhumility, to the Divine Powers, for saving, my life, when the rest of my\ncompanions were all drowned. And now I began to cast my eyes around, to\nbehold what place I was in and what I had next to do. I could see no\nhouse nor people; I was wet, yet had no clothes to shift me; hungry and\nthirsty, yet had nothing to eat or drink; no weapon to destroy any\ncreature for my sustenance; nor defend myself against devouring beasts;\nin short, I had nothing but a knife, a tobacco pipe, and a box half\nfilled with tobacco. The darksome night coming on upon me, increased my\nfears of being devoured by wild creatures; my mind was plunged in\ndespair, and having no prospect, as I thought, of life before me, I\nprepared for another kind of death then what I had lately escaped. I\nwalked about a furlong to see if I could find any fresh water, which I\ndid, to my great joy: and taking a quid of tobacco to prevent hunger, I\ngot up into a thick bushy tree, and seating myself so that I could not\nfall, a deep sleep overtook me, and for that night buried my sorrows in\na quiet repose.\nIt was broad day the next morning before I awaked; when I not only\nperceived the tempest was ceased, but law the ship driven almost as far\nas the rock before-mentioned, which the waves had dashed me against, and\nwhich was about a mile from the place where I was. When I came down from\nmy apartment in the tree, I perceived the ship's boat two miles distant\non my right-hand, lying on shore, as the waves had cast her. I thought\nto have got to her; but there being an inlet of water of about half a\nmile's breadth between it and me, I returned again towards the ship, as\nhoping to find something for my more immediate subsistence. About noon,\nwhen the sea was calm, that I could come within a quarter of a mile of\nher, it was to my grief I perceived, that, if we had kept on board all\nour lives had been saved. These thoughts, and my solitude drew tears\nfrom my eyes, though all in vain. So resolving to get to the ship, I\nstripped and leapt into the water, when swimming round her, I was afraid\nI should not get any thing to lay hold of; but it was my good fortune to\nespy a small piece of rope hang down by the fore chains, so low that, by\nthe help of it, though with great difficulty, I got into the forecastle\nof the ship. Here I found that the ship was bulged, and had a great deal\nof water in her hold: her stern was lifted up against a bank, and her\nhead almost to the water. All her quarter and what was there, was free\nand dry. The provisions I found in good order, with which I crammed my\npockets, and losing no time, ate while I was doing other things: I also\nfound some rum, of which I took a hearty dram: and now I wanted for\nnothing except a boat, which indeed was all, to carry away what was\nneedful for me.\nNecessity occasions quickness of thought. We had several spare yards, a\nspare topmast or two, and two or three large spars of wood. With these I\nfell to work, and flung as many of them overboard as I could manage,\ntying every one of them with a rope, that they might not drive away.\nThis done, I went down to the ship's side, and tyed four of them fast\ntogether at both ends, in form of a raft, and laying two or three short\npieces of plank upon them crosswise, I found it would bear me, but not\nany considerable weight. Upon which I went to work again, cutting a\nspare topmast into three lengths, adding them to my raft with a great\ndeal of labour and pains. I then considered what I should load it with,\nit being not able to bear a ponderous burden. And this I soon thought\nof, first laying upon it all the planks and boards I could get; next I\nlowered down three of the seamen's chests, after I had filled them with\nbread, rice, three Dutch cheeses, five pieces of dried goat's flesh, and\nsome European corn, what little the rats had spared: and for liquors, I\nfound several cases of bottles belonging to our skipper, in which were\nsome cordial waters, and four or five gallons of rack, which I stowed by\nthemselves. By this time the tide beginning to flow, I perceived my\ncoat, waistcoat, and shirt, swim away, which I had left on the shore; as\nfor my linen breeches and stockings, I swam with them to the ship; but I\nsoon found clothes enough, though I took no more than I wanted for the\npresent. My eyes were chiefly on tools to work with; and after a long\nsearch, I found out the carpenter's chest, which I got safe down on my\nraft. I then looked for arms and ammunition, and in the great cabin\nfound two good fowling pieces, two pistols, several powder horns filled,\na small bag of shot, and two old rusty swords. I likewise found three\nbarrels of powder, two of which were good, but the third had taken\nwater, also two or three broken oars, two saws, an ax, and a hammer. I\nthen put to sea, and in getting to shore had three encouragements. 1. A\nsmooth calm sea. 2. The tide rising and letting in to shore. 3. The\nlittle wind there was blew towards the land. After I had sailed about a\nmile, I found the raft to drive a little distance from the place where I\nfirst landed; and then I perceived a little opening of the land, with a\nstrong current of the tide running into it: upon which I kept the middle\nof the stream. But great was my concern, when on a sudden the fore part\nof my raft ran a ground, so that had I not, with great difficulty, for\nnear half an hour, kept my back straining against the chests to keep my\neffects in their places, all I had would have gone into the sea. But\nafter some time, the rising of the water caused the raft to float again,\nand coming up a little river with land on both sides, I landed in a\nlittle cove, as near the mouth as possible, the better to discover a\nsail, if any such providentially passed that way.\nNot far off, I espied a hill of stupendous height, surounded with lesser\nhills about it, and thither I was resolved to go and view the country\nthat I might see what part was best, to fix my habitation. Accordingly,\narming myself with a pistol a fowling piece, powder and ball, I ascended\nthe mountain. There I perceived I was in an island, encompassed by the\nsea; no distant lands to be seen but scattering rocks that lay to the\nwest: that it seemed to be a barren place, and, as I thought, inhabited\nonly by wild beasts. I perceived abundance of fowls, but ignorant of\nwhat kind, or whether good for nourishment; I shot one of them at my\nreturn, which occasioned a confused screaming among the other birds, and\nI found it, by its colours and beak, to be a kind of a hawk, but its\nflesh was perfect carrion.\nWhen I came to my raft, I brought my effects on shore, which work spent\nthat day entirely; and fearing that some cruel beasts might devour me in\nthe night time while I slept, I made a kind of hut or barricade with the\nchests and boards I had brought onshore. That night I slept very\ncomfortably; and the next morning my thoughts were employed to make a\nfurther attempt on the ship, and bring away what necessaries I could\nfind, before another storm should break her to pieces. Accordingly I got\non board as before, and prepared a second raft far more nice then the\nfirst, upon which I brought away the carpenter's stores, two or three\nbags full of nails, a great jack-screw, a dozen or two of hatchets, and\na grind-stone. I also took away several things that belonged to the\ngunner, particularly two or three iron crows, two barels of\nmusket-bullets, another fowling-piece, a small quantity of powder, and a\nlarge bagful of small shot. Besides these, I took all the men's clothes\nI could find, a spare fore topsail, a hammock, and some bedding; and\nthus completing my second cargo, I made all the haste to shore I could,\nfearing some wild beast might destroy what I had there already. But I\nonly found a little wild cat sitting on one of the chests, which seeming\nnot to fear me or the gun that I presented at her, I threw her a piece\nof biscuit, which she instantly ate, and departed.\nWhen I had gotten these effects on shore, I went to work in order to\nmake me a little tent with the sail and some poles which I had cut for\nthat purpose; and having finished it, what things might be damaged by\nthe weather I brought in, piling all the empty chests and calks in a\ncircle, the better to fortify it against any sudden attempt of man or\nbeast. After this, I blocked up the doors with some boards, and an empty\nchest, turned the long way out. I then charged my gun and pistol, and\nlaying my bed on the ground, slept as comfortably, till next morning, as\nthough I had been in a christian country.\nNow, though I had enough to subsist me a long time, yet despairing of a\nsudden deliverance, or that both ammunition and provision might be spent\nbefore such a thing happened, I coveted as much as I could; and so long\nas the ship remained in that condition, I daily brought away one\nnecessary or other; particularly the rigging, sails, and cordage, some\ntwine, a barrel of wet powder, some sugar, a barrel of meal, 3 calks of\nrum, &, what indeed was most welcome to me, a whole hogshead of bread.\nThe next time I went I cut the cables in pieces, carried off a hawser\nwhole, with a great deal of iron work, and made another raft with the\nmizen and sprit-sail-yard; but this being so unwieldy, by the too heavy\nburden I had upon it, and not being able so dextrously to guide it, as\nthe former, both my cargo and I were overturned. For my part, all the\ndamage I sustained was a wet skin; and, at low water, after much labour\nin diving, I got most of the cables, and some pieces of iron.\nThirteen days I had now been in the island, and eleven times on board,\nbringing away all that was possible, and, I believe, had the weather\nbeen calm, I should have brought away the whole ship piece by piece. As\nI was going the twelfth time, the wind began to rise; however, I\nventured at low water, and rummaging the cabin, in a locker I found\nseveral razors, scissors, and some dozens of knives and forks; and in\nanother thirty-six pounds in pieces of eight, silver and gold. _Ah!\nsimple vanity_ said I _whom this world so much dotes on, where is now\nthy virtue, thy excellency to me? You cannot procure me one thing\nneedful, nor remove me from this desolate island to a place of plenty.\nOne of these knives, so meanly esteemed, is to me more preferable than\nall this heap. E'en therefore remain where thou art to sink in the deep\nas unregarded, even as a creature whose life is not worth preserving._\nYet, after all this exclamation, I wrapt it up in a piece of canvas,\nand began to think of making another raft, but I soon perceived the wind\nbegan to arise, a fresh gale blowing from the shore, and the sky\novercast with clouds and darkness; so thinking a a raft to be in yaw, I\nlet myself into the water with what things I had about me, and it was\nwith much difficulty I got ashore, when soon after it blew a\nfearful storm.\nThat night I slept very contentedly in my little tent, surrounded with\nall my effects; but when I looked out in the morning no more ship was to\nbe seen. This much surprised me for the present; yet, when I considered\nI had lost no time, abated no pains and had got every thing useful out\nof her, I comforted myself in the best manner, and entirely submitted to\nthe will of Providence.\nMy next thoughts were, how I should defend and secure myself from\nsavages and wild beasts, if any such were in the island. At one time I\nthought of digging a cave, at another I was for erecting a tent; and, at\nlength, I resolved to do both: The manner or form of which will not, I\nhope, be unpleasing to describe.\nWhen I considered the ground where I was, that it was moorish, and had\nno fresh water near it, my resolutions were to search for a soil healthy\nand well watered, where I might not only be sheltered from the sun's\nscorching heat, but be more conveniently situated, as well to be secured\nfrom wild men and beasts of prey, as more easily to discover any distant\nsail, should it ever happen.\nAnd, indeed, it was not long before I had my desire. I found a little\nplain near a rising hill, the front towards which being as steep as a\nhouse side, nothing could descend on me from the top. On the side of\nthis rock, was a little hollow place, resembling the entrance or door of\na cave. Just before this place; on the circle of the green, I resolved\nmy tent should stand. This plain did not much exceed a hundred yards\nbroad, and about twice as long, like a delightful green, before my door,\nwith a pleasing, though an irregular descent every way to the low\ngrounds by the sea-side, lying on the N. W. side of the hill, so that it\nwas sheltered from the excessive heat of the sun. After this, I drew a\nsemi-circle, containing ten yards in a semi-diameter, and twenty yards\nin the whole, driving down two rows; of strong stakes, not 6 inches from\neach other. Then with the pieces of cable which I had cut on board, I\nregularly laid them in a circle between the piles up to their tops,\nwhich were more than five feet out of the earth, and after drove another\nrow of piles looking within side against them, between two or three feet\nhigh, which made me conclude it a little impregnable castle against men\nand beasts. And for my better security I would have no door, but entered\nin and came out by the help of a ladder, which I also made.\n[Illustration: Robinson Crusoe building his castle. _Dr. & Eng. by A.\nCarse, Edin._]\nHere was my fence and fortress, into which I carried all my riches,\nammunition, and stores. After which, working on the rock, what with dirt\nand stones I dug out, I not only raised my ground two feet, but made a\nlittle cellar to my mansion-house; and this cost me many days labour and\npains. One day in particular a shower of rain falling, thunder and\nlighting ensued, which put me in terror lest my powder should take fire,\nand not only hinder my necessary subsistence, by killing me food, but\neven blow up me and my habitation. To prevent which, I fell to making\nboxes and bags, in order to separate it, having by me near 150lb.\nweight. And thus being established as king of the island, every day I\nwent out with my gun to see what I could kill that was fit to eat. I\nsoon perceived numbers of goats but very shy, yet having watched them\nnarrowly, and seeing I could better shoot off the rocks than when in the\nlow grounds, I happened to shoot a she-goat suckling a young kid; which\nnot thinking its dam slain, stood by her unconcerned; and when I took\nthe dead creature up, the young one followed me even to the inclosure. I\nlifted the kid over the pales, and would willingly have kept it alive;\nbut finding it could not be brought to eat, I was forced to slay it also\nfor my subsistence.\nThus entered into as strange a scene of life as ever any man was in, I\nhad most melancholy apprehensions concerning my deplorable condition:\nand many times the tears would plentifully run down my face, when I\nconsidered how I was debarred from all communications with human kind.\nYet while these disponding cogitations would seem to make me accuse\nProvidence, other good thoughts would interpose and reprove me after\nthis manner: Well, supposing you are desolate, it is not better to be so\nthan totally perish? Why, were you singled out to be saved and the rest\ndestroyed? Why should you complain, when not only your life is\npreserved, but the ship driven into your reach, in order to take what\nwas necessary out of her for your subsistence? But to proceed, it was,\nby the account I kept, the 30th of September, when I first landed on\nthis island. About twelve days after, fearing lest I should lose my\nreckoning of time, nay, even forget the Sabbath days, for want of pen,\nink, and paper, I carved with a knife upon a large post, in great\nletters; and set it up: in the similitude of a cross, on the seashore\nwhere I landed, I CAME ON SHORE, _Sept._ 30 1659. Every day I cut a\nnotch with my knife on the sides of the square post, and this on the\nSabbath was as long again as the rest; and every first day of the month\nas long again as that long one. In this manner I kept my calendar,\nweekly, monthly or yearly reckoning of time. But had I made a more\nstrict search (as afterwards I did) I needed not have set up this mark;\nfor among the parcels belonging to the gunner, carpenter, and captain's\nmate, I found those very things I wanted; particularly pens, ink, and\npaper. So I found two or three compasses, some mathematical\ninstruments, dials, perspective glasses, books of navigation, three\nEnglish Bibles, and several other good books, which I carefully put\nup.--Here I cannot but call to mind our having a dog and two cats on\nboard, whom I made inhabitants with me in my castle. Though one might\nthink I had all the necessities that were desirable, yet still I found\nseveral things wanting. My ink was daily wasting; I wanted needles,\npins, and thread to mend or keep my clothes together; and particularly a\nspade, pickax, or shovel, to remove the earth. It was a year before I\nfinished my little bulwark; and having some intervals of relaxation,\nafter my daily wandering abroad for provision, I drew up this plan,\nalternately, as creditor and debtor, to remind me of the miseries and\nblessings of my life, under so many various circumstances.\nE V I L\nI am cast upon a desolate island, having no hopes, no prospects of a\nwelcome deliverance.\nThus miserably am I singled out from the enjoyment or company of all\nmankind.\nLike an hermit (rather should I say a lonely anchorite) am I forced from\nhuman conversation.\nMy clothes after some time will be worn out; and then I shall have none\nto cover me.\nWhen my ammunition is wasted, then shall I remain without any defence\nagainst wild men and beasts.\nI have no creature, no soul to speak to; none to beg assistance from.\nSome comfort would it be to resound my woes where I am understood, and\nbeg assistance where I might hope for relief.\nGOOD\nBut yet I am preserved, while my companions are perished in the raging\nocean.\nYet set apart to be spared from death. And he, who has so preserved me,\ncan deliver me from this condition.\nHowever, I have food to eat, and even a happy prospect of subsistence\nwhile life endures.\nAt present I enjoy what is absolutely needful; and the climate is so\nhot, that had I never so many, I would hardly wear them.\nYet if it does, I see no danger of any hurt to me, as in Africa; And\nwhat if I had been cast away, upon that coast.\nIs there not God to converse to, and is not he able to relieve thee?\nAlready has he afforded thee sustenance, and put it in thy power to\nprovide for thyself till he sends thee a deliverance.\nAnd now easing my mind a little by these reflections, I began to render\nmy life as easy as possible.\nI must here add, to the description I have given of my habitation, that\nhaving raised a turf wall against the outside of it, I thatched it so\nclose as might keep it from the inclemency of the weather; I also\nimproved it within, enlarged my cave, and made a passage and door in the\nrock, which came out beyond the pale of my fortification. I next\nproceeded to make a chair and a table, and so began to study such\nmechanical arts as seemed to me practicable. When I wanted a plank or\nboard I hewed down a tree with my hatchet, making it as thin with my ax\nas possible, and then smooth enough with an adz to answer my designs:\nyet though I could make no more this way than one board out of a tree,\nin length of time I got boards enough to shelter all my stores, every\nthing being regularly placed, and my guns securely hanging against the\nside of the rock. This made it a very pleasant sight to me, as being the\nresult of vast labour and diligence; which leaving for a while, and me\nto the enjoyment of it, I shall give the reader an account of my Journal\nfrom the day of my landing, till the fixing and settling of my\nhabitation, as heretofore shown.\nJOURNAL.\n_September 30, 1659_. I unhappy Robinson Crusoe, having suffered\nshipwreck, was driven on this desolate island, which I named the\n_Desolate Island of Despair_, my companions being swallowed up in the\ntempestous ocean. The next day I spent in consideration of my unhappy\ncircumstances, having no prospect but of death, either to be starved\nwith hunger, or devoured with beasts or merciless savages.\n_Oct. 1_. That morning, with great comfort, I beheld the ship drove\nashore. Some hopes I had, that when the storm was abated I might be able\nto get some food and necessaries out of her, which I conceived were not\ndamaged, because the ship did stand upright. At this time I lamented the\nloss of my companions, and our misfortune in leaving the vessel. When I\nperceived the ship as it were lay dry, I waded through the sands, then\nswam aboard, the weather being very rainy, and with scarcely any wind.\nTo the 14th of this month, my time was employed in making voyages, every\ntide getting what I could out of the ship. The weather very wet and\nuncertain.\n_Oct. 20_. My raft and all the goods thereon were overset: yet I\nrecovered most again at low water.\n_Oct. 25_. It blew hard, and rained night and day, when the ship went in\npieces, so that nothing was seen of her but the wreck at low water. This\nday I secured my goods from the inclemency of the weather.\n_Oct. 26_. I wandered to see where I could find a place convenient for\nmy abode. I fixed upon a rock in the evening, marked out a half-moon,\nintending to erect a wall, fortified with piles, lined within with\npieces of cables, and covered with turf.\n_Nov. 1_. I erected my tent under a rock, and took up my lodgings very\ncontentedly in a hammock that night.\n_Nov._ 2. This day I fenced myself in with timber, chests, and boards.\n_Nov._ 3. I shot two wild fowl, resembling ducks, which were good to\neat, and in the afternoon made me a table.\n_Nov._ 4. I began to live regularly. In the morning I allowed myself two\nor three hours to walk out with my gun; I then worked till near eleven\no'clock, and afterwards refreshed myself, with what I had to eat. From\ntwelve to two I would lie down to sleep. Extremely sultry weather. In\nthe evening go to work again.\n_Nov._ 5. Went out with my gun and dog, shot a wild cat with a soft skin,\nbut her flesh was good for nothing. The skins of those I killed, I\npreserved. In my return, I perceived many wild birds, and was terrified\nby some seals which made off to sea.\n_Nov._ 6. Completed my table.\n_Nov._ 7. Fair weather. I worked till the 12th, but omitted the 11th,\nwhich, according to my calculation, I supposed to be Sunday.\n_Nov._ 13. Rain in abundance, which, however, much cooled the air; with\nthunder and lightening, caused in me a terrible surprise. The weather\nclearing, I secured my powder in separate parcels.\n_Nov._ 14--16. I made little boxes for my powder, lodging them in\nseveral places. I also shot a large fowl, which proved excellent meat.\n_Nov._ 17. I began to dig in the rock, yet was obliged to desist for\nwant of a pickax, shovel, and wheel-barrow. Iron crows I caused to\nsupply the place of the first; but with all my art I could not make a\nwheel-barrow.\n_Nov._ 18. It was my fortune to find a tree, resembling what Brazilians\ncall an iron tree. I had like to have spoiled my ax with cutting it,\nbeing very hard and exceedingly heavy; yet with much labour & industry,\nI made a sort of a spade out of it.\n_Nov._ 21. These tools being made, I daily carried on my business;\neighteen days I allowed for enlarging my cave, that it might serve me,\nnot only for a warehouse, but kitchen, parlour, and cellar. I commonly\nlay in the tent, unless the weather was rainy that I could not lie dry.\nSo wet would it be at certain seasons, that I was obliged to cover all\nwithin the pale with long poles, in the form of rafters, leaning against\nthe rock, and loaded them with flags and large leaves of trees,\nresembling a thatch.\n_Dec._ 10. No sooner did I think my habitation finished, but suddenly a\ngreat deal of the top broke in, so that it was a mercy I was not buried\nin the ruins. This occasioned a great deal of pains and trouble to me,\nbefore I could make it firm and durable.\n_Dec_ 17. I nailed up some shelves and drove nails and staples in the\nwall and posts to hang things out of the way.\n_Dec_ 20. Every thing I got into its place, then made a sort of a\ndresser, and another table.\n_Dec._ 24. 25. Rain in abundance.\n_Dec._ 26. Very fair weather.\n_Dec._ 27. I chanced to light on some goats, shot one and wounded\nanother. I led it home in a string, bound up its leg, and cured it in a\nlittle time; at length it became so tame and familiar as to feed before\nthe door, and follow me where I pleased. This put me in mind to bring up\ntame creatures, in order to supply me with food after my ammunition\nwas spent.\n_Dec._ 28, 29, 30. The weather being excessively hot, with little air,\nobliged me for the most part, to keep within doors.\n_Jan_ 1. Still sultry, however, obliged by necessity, I went out with my\ngun, and found a great store of goats in the valleys; they were\nexceedingly shy, nor could my dog hunt them down.\n_Jan._ 3 to 14. My employment this time was to finish the wall before\ndescribed, and search the island. I discovered a kind of pigeons like\nour house-pigeons in a nest among the rocks. I brought them home, nursed\nthem till they could fly, and then they left me. After this, I shot\nsome, which proved excellent food. Some time I spent vainly in\ncontriving to make a cask; I may well say it was vain, because I could\nneither joint the staves; nor fix the heads, so as to make it tight: So,\nleaving that, took some goat's tallow I had about me, and a little okum\nfor the wick, and provided myself with a lamp, which served me instead\nof candles.\nBut now a very strange event happened. For being in the height of my\nsearch, what should come into my hand, but a bag, which was used to hold\ncorn (as I supposed) for the fowls; so immediately resolving to put\ngunpowder in it, I shook all the hulks and dirt upon one side of the\nrock, little expecting what the consequences would be. The rain had\nfallen plentifully a few days before; and about a month after, to my\ngreat amazement something began to lock out very green and flourishing;\nand when I came to view it more nicely, every day as it grew, I found\nabout ten or twelve ears of green barley appeared in the very same shape\nand make as that in England.\nI can scarce express the agitations of my mind at this sight. Hitherto I\nhad looked upon the actions of this life no otherwise than only as the\nevents of blind chance and fortune. But now the appearance of this\nbarley, flourishing in a barren soil, and my ignorance in not conceiving\nhow it should come there, made me conclude _that miracles were not yet\nceased:_ nay, I even thought that God had appointed it to grow there\nwithout any seed, purely for my sustenance in this miserable and\ndesolate island. And indeed such great effect this had upon me, that it\noften made me melt into tears, through a grateful sense of God's\nmercies; and the greater still was my thankfulness, when I perceived\nabout this little field of barley some rice stalks, also wonderfully\nflourishing.\nWhile thus pleased in mind, I concluded there must be more corn in the\nisland; and therefore made a diligent search narrowly among the rocks;\nbut not being able to find any, on a sudden it came into my mind, how I\nhad shaken the husks of corn out of the bag, and then my admiration\nceased, with my gratitude to the Divine Being, _as thinking it was but\nnatural_, and not to be conceived a miracle; though even the manner of\nits preservation might have made me own it as a wonderful event of God's\nkind providence.\nIt was about the latter end of June when the ears of this corn ripened,\nwhich I laid up very carefully together with 20 or 30 stalks of rice,\nexpecting one day I should reap the fruit of my labour; yet four years\nwere expired before I could allow myself to eat any barley-bread, and\nmuch longer time before I had any rice. After this, with indefatigable\npains and industry for three or four months, at last I finished my wall\non the 14th, of April, having no way to go into it, but by ladder\nagainst the wall.\n_April_ 16. I finished my ladder, and ascended it; afterwards pulled it\nup, then let it down on the other side, and descended into my new\nhabitation, where I had space enough, and so fortified that nothing\ncould attack me, without scaling the walls.\nBut what does all human pains and industry avail, if the blessing of God\ndoes not crown our labours? Or who can stand before the Almighty, when\nhe stretcheth forth his arm? For one time as I was at the entrance of my\ncave, there happened such a dreadful earthquake, that not only the roof\nof the cave came rumbling about my ears, but the posts seemed to crack\nterribly at the same time. This put me in great amazement; and running\nto the ladder, and getting over the wall, I then plainly knew it was an\nearthquake, the place I stood on sustaining three terrible shocks in\nless than three minutes. But judge of my terror when I saw the top of a\ngreat rock roll into the sea; I then expected the island would be\nswallowed up every moment: And what made the scene still more dreadful,\nwas to see the sea thrown into the most violent agitations and disorders\nby this tremendous accident.\nFor my part I stood like a criminal at the place of execution ready to\nexpire. At the moving of the earth, I was, as it were, sea-sick; and\nvery much afraid lest the rock, under which was my fence and habitation,\nshould overwhelm it and myself in a lasting tomb.\nWhen the third dreadful shock had spent itself, my spirits began to\nrevive; yet still I would not venture to ascend the ladder, but\ncontinued fitting, not knowing what I should do. So little grace had I\nthen, as only to say _Lord have mercy upon me!_ and no sooner was the\nearthquake over, but that pathetic prayer left me.\nIt was not long after, when a horrible tempest arose, at the same time\nattended with a huricane of wind. The sea seemed mountains high, and the\nwaves rolled so impetously, that nothing could be perceived but froth\nand foam. Three hours did this storm continue, and in so violent a\nmanner, as to tear the very trees up by the roots, which was succeeded\nby abundance of rain. When the tempest was over I went to my tent: but\nthe rain coming on in a furious manner, I was obliged to take shelter in\nthe cave, where I was forced to cut a channel through my fortification\nto let the water out. It continued raining all that night, and some time\nthe next day. These accidents made me resolve, as soon as the weather\ncleared up, to build me a little hut in some open place, walled round to\ndefend me from wild creatures and savages; not doubting but at the next\nearthquake, the mountain would fall upon my habitation and me, and\nswallow up all in its bowels.\n_April_ 16--20. These days I spent in contriving how and in what manner\nI should fix my place of abode. All this while I was under the most\ndreadful apprehensions. When I looked round my habitation, every thing I\nfound in its proper place. I had several resolutions whether I should\nmove or not; but at length resolved to stay where I was, till I found\nout a convenient place where I might pitch my tent.\n_April_ 22. When I began to put my resolutions in practice, I was stopt\nfor want of tools and instruments to work with. Most of my axes and\nhatchets were useless, occasioned by cutting the hard timber that grew\non the island. It took me up a full week to make my grind-stone of use\nto me, and at last I found out a way to turn it about with my foot, by\nhelp of a wheel and a string.\n_April_ 28--29. These days were spent in grinding my tools.\n_April_ 30. My bread falling short, I allowed myself but one biscuit a\nday.\n_May_ 1. As I walked along the sea shore I found a barrel of gunpowder,\nand several pieces of the wreck, the sea had flung up. Having secured\nthose, I made to the ship, whose stern was torn off, and washed a great\ndistance ashore; but the rest lay in the sands. This I suppose was\noccasioned by the earthquake. I now resolved to keep my old place of\nabode; and also to go to the ship that day, but then found it\nimpossible.\n_May_ 3. This day I went on board, and with my saw sawed off one of the\nbeams, which kept her quarter-deck. I then cleared the sand till flood.\n_May_ 4. I caught some fish, but they were not wholesome, The same day I\nalso catched a young dolphin.\n_May 5._ 'This day I also repaired to the wreck, and sawed another\npiece of timber, and when the flood came, I made a float of three great\nplanks, which were driven ashore by the tide.\n_May 6, 7, 8, 9._ These days I brought off the iron bolts, opened the\ndeck with the iron crow, and carried two planks to land, having made a\nway into the very middle of the wreck.\n_May 10, 11, 12, 13, 14._ All this time I spent in bringing off great\nquantities of iron and timber.\n_May 15._ Took with me two hatchets on purpose to cut off some lead from\nthe roll, but all in vain, for it lay too low under water.\n_May 16._ I omitted going to the wreck this day, for employing myself in\nlooking for pigeons, I outstaid my time.\n_May 17._ I perceived several pieces of the wreck driven ashore, which I\nfound belonged to the head of the ship.\n_May 24._ To this day I worked on the wreck, and with great difficulty\nloosened some things so much with the crow, that at the first flowing\ntide several casks floated out, and many of the seamen's chests, yet\nthat day nothing came to land but pieces of timber, and a hogshead which\nhad some Brazil pork in it. I continued working to the 15th of June;\n(except necessary times for food and rest) and had I known how to have\nbuilt a boat, I had timber and planks enough; I had also near 100 weight\nof sheet lead.\n_June 16._ As I was wandering towards the sea-side, I found a large\ntortoise or turtle, being the first I had seen on the island, though, as\nI afterwards found, there were many on the other side of it.\n_June 17._ This day I spent in cooking it, found in her threescore eggs,\nand her flesh the most savoury and pleasant I ever tasted in my life.\n_June 18._ I staid within this day, there being a continual rain; and it\nwas somewhat more chilly and cold than usual.\n_June 19._ Exceedingly bad, being taken with a trembling and shivering.\n_June 20._ Awake all night, my head racked with pain and feverish.\n_June 21._ Sick unto death, and terrified with the dismal apprehensions\nof my condition. Prayed to God more frequently, but very confusedly.\n_June 22._ Something better, but still uneasy in my mind.\n_June 23._ Again relapsed much as before.\n_June 24._ Mended a second time.\n_June 25._ A violent ague for seven hours, cold and hot fits succeeded\nwith faint sweats.\n_June 26._ Better, but very weak, yet I scrambled out, shot a she-goat,\nbrought it home and broiled some of it; I would willingly have stewed\nit, and made some broth, but had no pod.\n_June 27_ All this day I was afflicted with an ague; thirsty, yet I\ncould not help myself to water: Prayed to God in these words: _Lord, in\npity look upon me: Lord, have mercy upon me: have mercy upon me!_ After\nthis I fell asleep, which I found had much refreshed me when I awaked. I\nfell fast asleep a second time, and fell into this strange and terrible\nsort of dream.\nMethought I was sitting on the same spot of ground at the outside of the\nwall where I sat when the storm blew after the earthquake; and that I\nsaw a man descending from a great black cloud, and alight upon the\nground. He was all over as bright as a flash of fire that a little\nbefore surrounded him; his countenance inconceivably terrible; the earth\nas it were trembled when he stept upon the ground, and flashes of fire\nseemed to fill all the air. No sooner I thought him landed upon the\nearth, but with a long spear, or other weapon, he made towards me; but\nfirst ascending a rising ground, his voice added to my amazement, when I\nthought I heard him pronounce these dreadful words, _Unhappy wretch!\nseeing all these things have not brought thee to repentance, thou shalt\nimmediately die._ In pronouncing this dreadful sentence, I thought he\nwent to kill me with the spear that was in his hand.\nAny body may think it impossible for me to express the horrors of my\nmind at this vision: and even when I awaked, this very dream made a deep\nimpression upon my mind. The little divine knowledge I had, I received\nfrom my father's instructions, and that was worn out by an uninterrupted\nseries of sea-faring impiety for eight years space. Except what sickness\nforced from me, I do not remember I had one thought of lifting up my\nheart towards God, but rather had a certain stupidity of soul, not\nhaving the least sense or fear of the Omnipotent Being when in distress,\nnor of gratitude to him for his deliverances. Nay, when I was on the\ndesperate expedition on the desert African shore, I cannot remember I\nhad one thought of what would become of me, or to beg his consolation\nand assistance in my sufferings and distress. When the Portugal captain\ntook me up and honorably used me, nay, farther, when I was even\ndelivered from drowning by escaping to this island, I never looked upon\nit as a judgment, but only said I was an unfortunate dog, and that's\nall. Indeed some secret transports of soul I had, which was not through\ngrace but only a common flight of joy, that I was yet alive, when my\ncompanions were all drowned, and no other joy could I conceive but what\nis common with the sailors over a bowl of punch, after they have escaped\nthe greatest dangers.\nThe likelihood of wanting for neither food nor conveniences, might have\ncalled upon me for a thankful acknowledgment to Providence. Indeed, the\ngrowth of my corn touched with some sense, but that soon wore off again.\nThe terrible earthquake pointed to me, as it were, the finger of God,\nbut my dreadful amazement continued no longer than its duration. But\nnow, when my spirits began to sink under the burden of a strong\ndistemper, and I could leisurely view the miseries of death present\nthemselves before my eyes, then my awakened conscience began to reproach\nme with my past life, in which I had so wickedly provoked the justice of\nGod to pour down his vengeance upon me.\nSuch reflections as these oppressed me even in the violence of\ndistemper. Some prayers I uttered, which only proceeded from the fear of\ndeath. But when I considered my father's advice and prophecy, I could\nnot forbear weeping; for he told me, _That if I did persist in my folly,\nI should not only be deprived of God's blessing, but have time enough to\nreflect upon my despising his instructions, and this, in a wretched\ntime, when none could help me_. And now concluding it to be fulfilled,\nhaving no soul in the island to administer any comfort to me, I prayed\nearnestly to the Lord, that he would help me in this great calamity. And\nthis, I think, was the first time I prayed in sincerity for many years.\nBut now I must return to my journal.\n_June_ 28. Something refreshed with sleep, and the fit quite off, I got\nup. My dream still occasioned in me a great consternation; and, fearing\nthat the ague might return the succeeding day, I concluded it time to\nget something to comfort me. I filled a case bottle with water, and set\nit within reach of my bed; and, to make it more nourishing and less\nchilly, I put some rum in it. The next thing I did was to broil me a\npiece of goat's flesh, of which I ate but little. I was very weak;\nhowever, walked about, dreading the return of my distemper; and at night\nI supped on three of the turtle's eggs, which I roasted and ate, begging\nGod's blessing therewith.\nAfter I had eaten, I attempted to walk again out of doors with my gun;\nbut was so weak, that I sat down, and looked at the sea, which was\nsmooth and calm. While I continued here, these thoughts came into\nmy mind.\nIn what manner is the production of the earth and sea, of which I have\nseen so much? From whence came myself, and all other creatures living,\nand of what are they made?\nOur beings were assuredly created by some almighty invisible Power, who\nframed the earth the sea, and air, and all therein. But what is\nthat Power?\nCertainly it must follow that God has created it all. Yet, said I, if\nGod has made all this he must be the Ruler of them all, and what is\nrelating thereto; for certainly the Power that makes, must indisputably\nhave a power to guide and direct them. And if this be so, (as certainly\nit must) nothing can happen without his knowledge and appointment. Then,\nsurely, if nothing happens without God's appointment, certainly God has\nappointed these my sufferings to befal me. And here I fixed my firm\nbelief that it was his will that it should be so; and then proceeded to\nenquire, why should God deal with me in this manner? Or what have I done\nthus to deserve his indignation.\nHere conscience flew in my face, reprehending me as a blasphemer; crying\nwith a loud and piercing voice, _Unworthy wretch! how dare you ask what\nyou have done? Look on your past life, and see what you have left\nundone? Ask thyself, why thou wert not long ago in the merciless hands\nof death? Why not drowned in Yarmouth roads, or killed in the fight,\nwhen the ship was taken by the Sallee man of war? Why not entombed in\nthe bowels of wild beasts on the African coast, or drowned here when all\nthy companions suffered shipwreck in the ocean._\nStruck dumb with these reflections, I rose up in a pensive manner, being\nso thoughtful that I could not go to sleep; and fearing the dreadful\nreturn of my distemper, it caused me to remember, that the Brazilians\nuse tobacco for almost all diseases. I then went to my chest in older to\nfind some, where Heaven, no doubt, directed me to find a cure for both\nsoul and body; for there I found one of the Bibles, which, till this\ntime, I had neither leisure nor inclination to look into, I took both\nthe tobacco and that out of the chest, and laid them on the table.\nSeveral experiments did I try with the tobacco: First, I took a piece or\nleaf, and chewed it; but it being very green and strong, almost\nstupified me. Next I steeped it in some rum an hour or two, resolving\nwhen I went to bed to take a dole of it: and, in the third place, I\nburnt some over a pan of fire, holding my nose over it as long as I\ncould endure it without suffocation.\nIn the intervals of this operation, though my head was giddy and\ndisturbed by the tobacco, I took up the Bible to read. No sooner did I\nopen it, but there appeared to me these words _Call on me in the day of\ntrouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shall glorify me_.\nAt first this sentence made a very deep impression on my heart, but it\nsoon wore off again, when I considered the word _deliver_ was foreign to\nme. And as the children of Israel said, when they were promised flesh to\neat, _Can God spread a table in the wilderness?_ in like manner I began\nto say, _Can God himself deliver me from this desolate island?_ However,\nthe words would still return to my mind, and afterwards made a greater\nimpression upon me. As it was now very late, and the tobacco had dazed\nmy head, I was inclined to sleep: but before I would lie down I fell on\nmy knees, and implored the promise that God had made to me in the Holy\nScriptures, that _if I called upon him in the day of trouble he would\ndeliver me._ With much difficulty I afterwards drank the rum wherein I\nhad steeped the tobacco, which flying into my head, threw me into such a\nprofound sleep, that it was three o'clock the next day before I awaked;\nor rather, I believe, I slept two days, having certainly lost a day in\nmy account, and I could never tell any other way. When I got up, my\nspirits were lively and cheerful; my stomach much better, being very\nhungry; and, in short, no fit returned the next day, which was the 29th,\nbut I found myself much altered for the better.\nThe 30th, I went abroad with my gun, but not far, and killed a sea-fowl\nor two, resembling a brand goose, which, however, I cared not to eat\nwhen I brought them home, but dined on two more of the turtle's eggs. In\nthe evening I renewed my medicine, excepting that I did not take so\nlarge a quantity, neither did I chew the leaf, or hold my head over the\nsmoke: but the next day, which was the 1st of _July_, having a little\nreturn of the cold fit, I again took my medicine as I did the\nfirst time.\n_July_ 3. The fit quite left me, but very weak. In this condition, I\noften thought of these words, _I will deliver thee_; and while, at some\ntimes, I would think of the impossibility of it, other thoughts would\nreprehend me for disregarding the deliverances I had received, even from\nthe most forlorn and distressed condition. I asked myself, what regard\nhave I had to God for his abundant mercies? Have I done my part_: He has\ndelivered me, but I have not glorified him:_--as if I had said, I had\nnot owned and been thankful for these as deliverances, and how could I\nexpect greater? So much did this sensibly touch my heart, that I gave\nGod thanks for my recovery from weakness in the most humble prostration.\n_July_ 4. This morning I began seriously to ponder on what is written in\nthe New Testament, resolving to read a chapter every morning and night\nas long an my thoughts would engage me. As soon as I set about this work\nseriously, I found my heart deeply affected with the impiety of my past\nlife; these words that I thought were spoken to me in my dream revived,\n_All these things have not brought thee to repentance._ After this, I\nbegged of God to assist me with his Holy Spirit in returning to my duty.\nOne day in perusing the Scriptures, I came to these words, _He is\nexalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and to give\nremission_: Immediately I laid down the book, and with uplifted hands to\nHeaven, loudly cried, _O blessed Jesus, thou son of David, Jesus, thou\nexalted Prince and Saviour, give we repentance!_ And now indeed I prayed\nwith a true sense of my condition, and a more certain hope, founded on\nthe word of God. Now I had a different sense of these words, _Call on me\nand I will deliver thee_, that is from the dreadful load of guilt which\noppressed my sinful soul, and not from a solitary life, which might\nrather be called, a blessing, seeing I wanted neither food nor raiment,\nwhen compared living amongst the human race, surrounded with so much\noppression, misery, and affliction; in a word, I came to this\nconclusion, that a deliverance from sin was a much greater blessing,\nthan a deliverance from affliction. But again I proceed to my journal.\nTo the 14th of _July_, I walked about with my gun, little and little at\na time, having been reduced to the greatest extremity of weakness. The\napplications and experiments I used were perfectly new: neither could I\nrecommend them to any one's practice. For though it carried off the fit,\nit very much weakened me, and I had frequently convulsions in my nerves\nand limbs for some time. From this I learned, that going abroad in rainy\nweather, especially when it was attended with storms and hurricanes of\nwind, was most pernicious to health. I had now been about ten months in\nthe island; and as I never had seen any of the human kind, I therefore\naccounted myself as sole monarch; and as I grew better, having secured\nmy habitation to my mind, I resolved to make a tour round my kingdom, in\norder to make new discoveries.\nThe 15th of _July_, I began my journey; I first went to the creek, where\nI had brought my rafts on shore; and travelling farther, found the tide\nwent no higher than two miles up, where there was a little brook of\nrunning water, on the banks of which were many pleasant savannahs or\nmeadows, plain, smooth, and covered with grass. On the rising parts,\nwhere I supposed the water did not reach, I perceived a great deal of\ntobacco growing to a very strong stalk. Several other plants I likewise\nfound, the virtues of which I did not understand. I searched a long time\nfor the Cassava root, which I knew the Indians in that climate made\ntheir bread of, but all in vain. There were several plants of aloes,\nthough at that time I knew not what they were; likewise I saw several\nsugar canes, but imperfect for want of cultivation. With these few\ndiscoveries, I came back that night, and slept contentedly in my\nlittle castle.\nThe next day, being the 16th, going the same way, but farther then the\nday before, I found the country more adorned with woods and trees. Here\nI perceived different fruits in great abundance. Melons in plenty lay on\nthe ground, and clusters of grapes, ripe and very rich, spread over the\ntrees. You may imagine I was glad of this discovery, yet ate very\nsparingly, lest I should throw myself into a flux or fever. The grapes I\nfound of excellent use; for when I had dried them in the sun, which\npreserved them as dried raisins are kept, they proved very wholesome and\nnourishing, and served me in those seasons when no grapes were to\nbe had.\nThe night drawing on apace, I ascended up a tree, and slept very\ncomfortably, though it was the first time I had lain out of my\nhabitation. And when the morning came, I proceeded with great pleasure\non my way, travelling about four miles, as I imagined, by the length of\nthe valley, directing my course northward, there being a ridge of hills\non the south and north side of me. At the end of this valley, I came to\nan opening, where the country seemed to descend to the west; there I\nfound a little spring of fresh water, proceeding out of the side of the\nhill, with its chrystal streams running directly east. And, indeed, here\nmy senses were charmed with the most beautiful landscape nature could\nafford; for the country appeared flourishing, green, and delightful,\nthat to me it seemed like a planted garden. I then descended on the side\nof that delicious vale, when I found abundance of cocoa, orange, lemon,\nand citron trees, but very wild and barren at that time. As for the\nlimes, they were delightful and wholesome, the juice of which I after\nused to mix in water, which made it very cooling and refreshing. And now\nI was resolved to carry home and lay up a store of grapes, limes, and\nlemons, against the approaching wet season. So laying them up in\nseparate parcels, and then taking a few of each with me, I returned to\nmy little castle, after having spent three days in this journey. Before\nI got home, the grapes were so bruised that they were utterly spoiled;\nthe limes indeed were good, but of those I could bring only a few.\n_July 19_. Having prepared two bags, I returned thither again, but, to\nmy great surprise, found all the grapes spread about, trod to pieces,\nand abundance eaten, which made me conclude there were wild beasts\nthereabouts. To prevent this happening again, I gathered a large\nquantity of the grapes, and hung them upon the out branches of the tree,\nboth to keep them unhurt, and that they might cure and dry in the sun;\nand having well loaded myself with limes and lemons, I returned once\nmore to my old place of residence.\nAnd now contemplating on the fruitfulness of this valey, and\npleasantness of its situation, its security from storms, and the\ndelightfulness of the adjacent woods, I concluded I was settled in the\nworst part of the country, and therefore was thinking to remove my\nhabitation.\nBut when I considered again, that though it was pleasant, it was off\nfrom the sea-side, where there was a possibility, some time or other, a\nship might either be driven or sail by; and that to inclose myself among\nhills and woods must certainly put an end to my hopes of deliverance; I\nresolved to let my castle remain where Providence had first assigned it.\nYet so ravished was I with this place, that I made me a little kind of\nbower, surrounding it with a double hedge, as high as I could reach,\nwell staked and filled with bullrushes: and having spent a great part of\nthe month of _July_, I think it was the first of _August_ before I began\nto enjoy my labour.\n_Aug. 3._ Perceiving my grapes to be dry, I took them from the trees,\nand they proved excellent good raisins of the sun: the most of which I\ncarried to my cave; and happy for me I did so; by which I saved the best\npart of my winter food.\n_Aug_. 14. This day it began to rain; and though I had made me a tent\nlike the other, yet having no shelter of a hill to keep me from storms,\nnor a cave behind me to retreat to, I was obliged to return to my old\ncastle. The rain continued more or less every day, till the middle of\n_October;_ and sometimes so violently, that I could not stir out of my\ncave for several days. This season I found my family to increase; for\none of my cats that ran away from me, and which I thought had been dead,\nreturned about _August_, with three kittens at her heels, like herself,\nwhich I thought strange, because both my cats were females, and the wild\ncats of the island seemed to be of a different kind from our European\ncats; but from these cats proceeded such numbers, that I was forced to\nkill and destroy them as I would do wild beasts and vermin.\nTo the 26th of this month, I could not stir out, it raining incessantly;\nwhen beginning to want food, I was compelled to venture twice, the first\nof which I shot a goat, and afterwards found a very large tortoise. The\nmanner of my regulating my food was thus: a bunch of raisins served me\nfor my breakfast; a piece of goat's flesh or turtle boiled for my\ndinner, and two or three turtle's eggs for my supper. While the rain\nlasted, I daily worked two or three hours at enlarging my cave, and by\ndegrees worked it on towards one side, till I came to the outside of the\nhill, and made a door or way out, which came beyond my fence or wall,\nand so I came in and out this way. But after I had done this, I was\ntroubled to see myself thus exposed; though I could not perceive any\nthing to fear, a goat being the biggest creature I had seen upon\nthis island.\n_Sept_. 30. Casting up my notches on my post, which amounted to 365, I\nconcluded this to be the anniversary of my landing; and, therefore,\nhumbly prostrating myself on the ground, confessing my sins,\nacknowledging God's righteous judgments upon me, and praying to Jesus\nChrist to have mercy upon me, I fasted for twelve hours till the going\ndown of the sun; and then eating a biscuit and a bunch of grapes, laid\nme on the bed, and with great comfort took my night's repose. Till this\ntime I never had distinguished the Sabbath-day; but now made a longer\nnotch than ordinary for the days of rest, and divided the weeks as well\nas I could, though I found I had lost a day or two in my account. My ink\nfailing soon after, I omitted in my daily memorandum things of an\nindifferent nature, & contented myself to write down only the most\nremarkable events of my life. The rainy and dry seasons appeared now\nregular to me, and experience taught me how to provide for them; yet, in\none thing I am going to relate, my experience very much failed me. You\nmay call to mind what I have mentioned of some barley and rice which I\nhad saved; about thirty stalks of the former, and twenty of the latter;\nand at that time, the sun being in its southern position, going from\nme, together with the rains, made me conclude it a very proper season to\nsow it. Accordingly I dug up a piece of ground, with my wooden spade,\nand dividing it into two parts, sowed about two thirds of my seed,\npreserving by me about a handful of each. And happy it was I did so; for\nno rains falling, it was choaked up, and never appeared above the earth\ntill the wet season came again, and then part of it grew, as if it had\nbeen newly sown.\nI was resolved all to make another trial; and seeking for a moister\npiece of ground near my bower, I there sowed the rest of my seed in\nFebruary, a little before the vernal equinox; which having the rainy\nmonths of March and April to water it, yielded a noble crop, and sprang\nup very pleasantly. I had still saved part of the seed, not daring to\nventure all; and by the time I found out the proper seasons to sow it\nin, and that I might expect every year two seed-times and two harvests,\nmy stock amounted to above half a peck of each sort of grain.\nNo sooner were the rains over, but the stakes which I had cut from the\ntrees, shot out like willows the first year after lopping their heads. I\nwas ignorant of the tree I cut them from; but they grew so regularly\nbeautiful, that they made a most lively appearance, and so flourished in\nthree year's time, that I resolved to cut more of them; and these soon\ngrowing made a glorious fence, as afterwards I shall observe.\nAnd now I perceived that the seasons of the year might generally be\ndivided, not into summer and winter, as in Europe, but into wet and dry\nseasons, as in this manner:\n     / February,\\\nHalf<  March,    >  Rainy, sun coming near the Equinox.\nHalf<   June,     > Dry, sun getting north of the Line.\nHalf<  September, >  Wet, the sun being then come back.\n     |  November,  |\nHalf<   December,   >  Dry, sun running south of the Line.\n      \\ February, /\nThe wet seasons would continue longer or shorter, as the winds happened\nto blow. But having found the ill consequences of being abroad in the\nrain, I took care beforehand to furnish myself with provisions; and\nduring the wet months sat within doors as much as possible. At this time\nI contrived to make many things that I wanted, though it cost me much\nlabour and pains, before I could accomplish them. The first I tried was\nto make a basket; but all the twigs I could get proved so brittle, that\nI could not then perform it. It now proved of great advantage to me that\nwhen a boy, I took great delight in standing at a basket-maker's in the\nsame town where my father lived, to view them at work; and like other\nboys, curious to see the manner of their working these things and very\nofficious to assist, I perfectly learned the method of it, and wanted\nnothing but the tools. And it coming into my mind that the twigs of that\ntree of which I made my stakes, might be as tough as a fallow willow, or\nosiers, growing in England, I resolved to make an experiment, and went\nthe next day to my country-seat, and found some fit for my turn; and\nafter cutting down a quantity with my hatchet, I dried them in my pale,\nand, when fit to work with, carried them to my cave, where I employed\nmyself in making several sorts of baskets, insomuch that I could put in\nwhatsoever I pleased. It is true, they were not cleverly made, yet they\nserved my turn upon all occasions.\nBut still I wanted two necessary things. I had no cask to hold my\nliquor, except two rundlets almost full of rum, a few bottles of an\nordinary size, and some square case bottles, neither had I a pot to boil\nany thing in, only a large kettle unfit to make broth, or stew a bit of\nmeat: I wanted, likewise at the beginning of this dry season a tobacco\npipe; but for this I afterwards found an expedient.\nI kept myself employed in planting my second row of stakes, But\nremembering that when I travelled up to the brook, I had a mind to see\nthe whole island, I now resumed my intention, and taking my dog, gun,\nhatchet, two biscuit cakes, a great bunch of raisins, with a larger\nquantity of powder and shot than usual, I began my journey. Having\npassed the vale where my bower stood, I came within view of the sea\nlying to the west when it being a clear day, I fairly descried land,\nextending from the W. to the S.W. about ten or fifteen leagues, as I\nconcluded; but could not say whether it was an island or a\ncontinent.--Neither could I tell what this place might be; only thought\nit was part of America, & where I might have been in a miserable\ncondition, had I landed. Again I considered that if this was the Spanish\ncoast, certainly, one time or other, I should see some ship pass by; and\nif it was not, then it must be the savage coast, between the Spanish\ncountry and Brazil, which abounds with cannibals or man-eaters.\nAs I proceeded forward I found this side of the island much more\npleasant than mine; the fields fragrant adorned with sweet flowers &\nverdant grass, together with several very, fine woods. There were\nparrots in plenty, which made me long for one to be my companion; but\nit was with great difficulty I could knock one down with my stick; and I\nkept him at home some years before I could get him to call me by\nmy name.\nIn the low grounds, I found various sorts of hares and foxes, as I took\nthem to be, but much different from those in England. Several of these I\nkilled, but never ate them; neither indeed had I any occasion; for\nabounding with goats, pigeons, turtle, and grapes, I could defy\nLeadenhall market to furnish me a better table. In this journey I did\nnot travel above two miles a-day, because I took several turns and\nwindings, to see what discoveries I could make, returning weary enough\nto the place where I designed to rest all night, which was either in a\ntree, or in a place which I surrounded with stakes, that no wild\ncreature might suddenly surprise me. When I came to the sea shore, I was\namazed to see the splendour of it. Its strand was covered with shells of\nthe most beautiful fish, and constantly abounding with innumerable\nturtles, and fowls of many kinds, which I was ignorant of, except those\ncalled penguins. I might have shot as many as I pleased, but was sparing\nof my ammunition, rather choosing to kill a she-goat, which I did with\nmuch difficulty, on account of the flatness of the country.\nNow though this journey produced me the most pleasing satisfaction, yet\nmy habitation was so much to my liking, that I did not repine at my\nbeing seated on the worst part of the island. I continued my journey,\ntravelling about twelve miles further towards the east, where I set a\ngreat pile on the shore for a mark, concluding that my next journey\nshould bring me to the other side of the island, east from my castle,\nand so round till I came to my post again. As I had a constant view of\nthe country, I thought I could not miss my way; but scarce had I\ntravelled three miles, when I descended into a very large valley, so\nsurrounded with hills covered with wood, that I having no guide but the\nsun, nor even this, unless I knew will the position of the sun at the\ntime of day; and to add to my misfortune, the weather proving very hazy,\nI was obliged to return to my post by the sea-side, and so backwards the\nsame way I came. In this journey my dog surprised a kid and would have\nkilled it, had I not prevented him. As I had often been thinking of\ngetting a kid or two, and so raising a breed of tame goats to supply me\nafter my ammunition was spent, I took this opportunity of beginning: and\nhaving made a collar for this little creature, with a string made of\nrope-yarn, I brought it to my bower, and there inclosed and left him;\nand, having spent a month in this journey, at length I returned to my\nhabitation.\nNobody can doubt of my satisfaction, when I returned to my little\ncastle, and reposed myself in my hammock. After my journey I rested\nmyself a week, which time I employed in, making a cage for my pretty\nPoll. I now began to consider the poor kid I had left in the bower, and\nI immediately went to fetch it home. When I came there I found the young\ncreature almost starved; I gave it some food, and tied it as before: but\nthere was no occasion, for it followed me like a dog; and, as I\nconstantly fed it, it became so loving, gentle, and fond, that it\ncommenced one of my domestics, and would never leave me.\nThe rainy season of the autumnal equinox being now come, I kept the 30th\nof September in the most solemn manner, as usual, it being the third\nyear of my abode in the island. I spent the whole day in acknowledging\nGod's mercies, in giving him thanks for making this solitary life as\nagreeable, and less sinful, than that of human society; and for the\ncommunications of his grace to my soul, in supporting, comforting, and\nencouraging me to depend, upon his Providence, and hope for his eternal\npresence in the world to come.\nIndeed, I often did consider how much more happy I was in this fate of\nlife, than in that accursed manner of living formerly used; and\nsometimes when hunting, or viewing the country, the anguish of my soul\nwould break out upon me, and my very heart would sink within me, to\nthink of the woods, the mountains, the desarts I was in; and how I was a\nprisoner locked up within the eternal bars and bolts of the ocean, in an\nuninhabited wilderness, without hopes, and without redemption: In this\ncondition I would often wring my hands, and weep like a child: And even\nsometimes, in the middle of my work, this fit would take me; and then I\nwould sit down and sigh, looking on the ground for an hour or two\ntogether, till such time as my grief got vent in a flood of tears.\nOne morning as I was sadly employed in this manner, I opened my Bible,\nwhen I immediately fixed my eyes upon these words, _I will never leave\nthee, nor forsake thee!_ Surely, thought I, these words are directed to\nme, or else why should they appear just at a moment when I am bemoaning\nmy forlorn condition? and if God does not forsake, what matters it,\nsince he can me more happy in this state of life, than if I enjoyed the\ngreatest splendour in the world? But while I was going to return God\nthanks for my present state, something seemed to shock my mind, as if it\nhad thus said: _Unworthy wretch; can you pretend to be thankful for a\ncondition, from which you would pray to be delivered_? Therefore I\nstopt:--and tho' I could not say, I thanked the Divine Majesty for\nbeing there, yet I gave God thanks for placing in my view my former\ncourse of life, and granting me a true knowledge of repentance. And\nwhenever I opened or read the Bible, I blessed kind Providence, that\ndirected my good friend in England to send it among my goods without\nany order, and for assisting me to save it from the power of the\nraging ocean.\nAnd now beginning my third year, my several daily employments were\nthese: _First_, My duty to Heaven, and diligently reading the Holy\nScriptures, which I did twice or thrice every day: _Secondly_, Seeking\nprovision with my gun, which commonly took me up, when it did not rain,\nthree hours every morning: _Thirdly_, The ordering, curing, preserving,\nand cooking what I killed, or catched for my supply which took me up\ngreat part of the day: for, in the middle of the day, the sun being in\nits height, it was so hot, that I could not stir out; so that I had only\nbut four hours in the evening to work in: and then the want of tools, of\nassistance, and skill, wasted a great deal of time to little purpose. I\nwas no less than two and forty days making a board fit for a long shelf,\nwhich two sawyers with their tools and saw-pit, would have cut off the\nsame tree in half a day. It was a large tree, as my board was to be\nbroad. I was three days in cutting it down and two more in lopping off\nthe boughs, and reducing it to a piece of timber. This I hacked and\nhewed off each side, till it became light to move; then I turned it,\nmade one side of is smooth and flat as a board from end to end, then\nturned it downward, cutting the other side, till I brouht the plank to\nbe about three inches thick, and smooth on both sides. Any body may\njudge my great labour and fatigue in such a piece of work; but this I\nwent through with patience, as also many other things that my\ncircumstances made necessary for me to do.\nThe harvest months, November and December, were now at hand, in which I\nhad the pleasing prospect of a very good crop. But here I met with a new\nproblem; for the goats and hares, having tasted of the outshoot of the\nblade, kept it to short that it had not strengthen to shoot up into a\nstalk. To prevent this, I enclosed it with a hedge, and by day shot some\nof its devourers; and my dog which I had tied to the field-gate, keeping\nbarking all night; so frightened those creatures, that I got entirely\nrid of them.\nBut no sooner did I get rid of these, than other enemies appeared, to\nwit, whole flocks of several sorts of birds, who only waited till my\nback was turned, to ruin me: so much did this provoke me, that I let\nfly, and killed three of the malefactors; and afterwards served them as\nthey do notorious thieves in England, hung them up in chains as a terror\nto others. And, indeed, to good an effect had this that they not only\nforsook the corn, but all that part of the island, so long as these\ncriminals hung there.\nMy corn having ripened apace, the latter end of December, which was my\nsecond harvest, I reaped it with a scythe, made of one of my broad\nswords. I had no fatigue in cutting down my my first crop it was so\nslender. The ears I carried home in a basket, rubbing it with my hands,\ninstead of threshing it: and when the harvest was over, found my half\npeck of seed produced near two bushels of rice, and two bushels and a\nhalf of barley. And now I plainly foresaw, that by God's goodness, I\nshould be furnished with bread; but yet I was concerned, because I knew\nnot how to grind or make meal of my corn, nor bread, neither knew how to\nbake it. I would not however, taste any of the crop, but resolved to\npreserve it against next season, and, in the mean while, use my best\nendeavours to provide myself with other food.\nBut where were my labours to end? The want of a plough to turn up the\nearth, or shovel to dig it, I conquered by making me a wooden spade. The\nwant of a harrow I supplied myself, with dragging over the corn a great\nbough of a tree. When it was growing I was forced to fence it; when ripe\nto mow it, carry it home, thrash it, part it from the chaff, and save\nit. And, after all, I wanted a mill to grind it, sieve to dress it, yest\nand salt to make it into bread, and an oven to bake it. This set my\nbrains to work to find some expedient for every one of these necessaries\nagainst the next harvest.\nAnd now having more seed, my first care was to prepare me more land. I\npitched upon two large flat pieces of ground near my castle, for that\npurpose, in which sowed my seed, and fenced it with a good hedge. This\ntook me up three months: by which time the wet season coming on, and the\nrain keeping me within doors, I found several occasions to employ\nmyself; and, while at work, used to divert myself in talking to my\nparrot, learning him to know and speak his own name _Poll_ the first\nwelcome word I ever heard spoke in the island. I had been a long time in\ncontriving how to make earthen vessels, which I wanted extremely; and\nwhen I considered the heat of the climate, I did not doubt but if I\ncould find any such clay, I might botch up a pot, strong enough, when\ndried in the sun, to bear handling, and to hold any thing that was dry,\nas corn, meal, and other things.\nTo be short, the clay I found; but it would occasion the most serious\nperson to smile, to see what aukward ways I took, and what ugly\nmisshapen things I made; how many either fell out or cracked by the\nviolent heat of the sun, and fell in pieces when they were removed; so\nthat I think it was two months time before I could perfect any thing:\nand even then but two clumsy things in imitation of earthen jars. These,\nhowever, I very gently placed in wicker baskets, made on purpose for\nthem, and between the pot and the baskets, stuffed it full of rice and\nbarley straw, and these I presume would hold my dried corn, and perhaps\nthe meal when the corn was bruised. As for the smaller thing, I made\nthem with better success, such as little round pots, flat dishes,\npitchers, and pipkins, the fun baking them very hard.\nYet still I wanted one thing absolutely necessary, and that was an\nearthen pot, not only to hold my liquid, but also to bear the fire,\nwhich none of these could do. It once happened that as I was putting out\nmy fire, I found therein a broken piece of one of my vessels burnt as\nhard as a rock, and red as a tile. This made me think of burning some\npots; and having no notion of a kiln, or of glazing them with leaf, I\nfixed three large pipkins, and two or three pots in a pile one upon\nanother. The fire I piled round the outside, and dry wood on the top,\ntill I saw the pots in the inside red hot, and found out that, they were\nnet crackt at all: and when I perceived them perfectly red, I let one of\nthem stand in the fire about five or six hours, till the clay melted by\nthe extremity of the heat, and would have run to glass, had I suffered\nit; upon which I slacked my fire by degrees, till the redness abated;\nand watching them till the morning, I found I had three very good\npipkins, and two earthen pots, as well burnt and fit for my turn as I\ncould desire.\nNo joy could be greater than mine at this discovery. For after this, I\nmay say, I wanted for no fort of earthen ware. I filled one of my\npipkins with water to boil me some meat, which it did admirably well,\nand with a piece of kid I made me some good broth, as well as my\ncircumstances would afford me at that time.\nThe next concern I had was to get me a stone-morter to beat some corn\nin, instead of a mill to grind it. Here indeed I was at a great loss, as\nnot being fit for a stone-cutter; and many days I spent to find out a\ngreat stone big enough to cut hollow and make fit for a morter, and\nstrong enough to bear the weight of a pestil, and that would break the\ncorn without filling it with sand. But all the stones of the island\nbeing of a mouldering nature, rendered my search fruitless; and then I\nresolved to look out for a great block of hard wood, which having found,\nI formed it with my ax and hammer, and then, with infinite labour, made\na hollow in it, just as the Indians of Brazil make their canoes. When I\nhad finished this, I made a great pestil of iron wood, and then laid\nthem up against my succeeding harvest.\nMy next business was to make me a sieve, to sift my meal and part it\nfrom the bran and husk. Having no fine thin canvas to search the meal\nthrough, I could not tell what to do. What linen I had was reduced to\nrags: I had goat's hair, enough, but neither tools to work it, nor did I\nknow how to spin it: At length I remembered I had some neckcloths of\ncalico or muslin of the sailors, which I had brought out of the ship,\nand with these I made three small sieves proper enough for the work.\nI come now to consider the baking part. The want of an oven I supplied\nby making some earthen pans very broad but not deep. When I had a mind\nto bake, I made a great fire upon the hearth, the tiles of which I had\nmade myself; and when the wood was burnt into live coals, I spread them\nover it, till it became very hot; then sweeping them away, I set down my\nloaves, and whelming down the earthen pots upon them, drew the ashes and\ncoals all around the outsides of the pots to continue the heat; and in\nthis manner I baked my barley loaves, as well as if I had been a\ncomplete pastry-cook, and also made of the rice several cakes\nand puddings.\nIt is no wonder that these things took me up the best part of a year,\nsince what intermediate time I had was bestowed in managing my new\nharvest and husbandry; for in the proper season I reaped my corn,\ncarried it home, and laid it up in the ear in my large baskets, til I\nhad time to rub, instead of thrashing it. And now, indeed, my corn\nincreased so much, that it produced me twenty bushels of barley, and as\nmuch rice, that I not only began to use it freely, but was thinking how\nto enlarge my barns, and resolved to sow as much at a time as would be\nsufficient for me for a whole year.\nAll this while, the prospect of land, which I had seen from the other\nside of the island, ran in my mind. I still meditated a deliverance from\nthis place, though the fear of greater misfortunes might have deterred\nme from it.--For, allowing that I had attained that place, I run the\nhazard of being killed and eaten by the devouring cannibals: and if they\nwere not so, yet I might be slain, as other Europeans had been, who fell\ninto their hands. Notwithstanding all this, my thoughts ran continually\nupon that shore. I now wished for my boy Xury, and the long boat, with\nthe shoulder of mutton sail: I went to the ship's boat that had been\ncast a great way on the shore in the late storm. She was removed but a\nlittle; but her bottom being turned up by the impetuosity and fury of\nthe waves and wind, I fell to work with all the strength I had, with\nlevers and rollers I had cut from the wood, to turn her, and repair the\ndamages she had sustained. This work took me up three or four weeks,\nwhen finding my little strength all in vain, I fell to undermining it by\ndigging away the sand, and so to make it fall down, setting pieces of\nwood to thrust and guide it in the fall. But after this was done, I was\nstill unable to stir it up, or to get under it, much less to move it\nforward towards the water, and so I was forced to give it over.\nThis disapointment, however did not frighten me. I began to think\nwhether it was not possible for me to make a canoe or perigua, such as\nthe Indians make of the trunk of a tree, But here I lay under particular\ninconveniencies; want of tools to make it, and want of hands to move it\nin the water when it was made. However, to work I went upon it, stopping\nall the inquiries I could make, with this very simple answer I made to\nmyself, _Let's first make it, I'll warrant I'll find some way or other\nto get it along when it is done_.\nI first cut down a cedar tree, which was five feet ten inches diameter\nat the lower part next the stump, and four feet eleven inches diameter\nat the end of twenty-two feet, after which it lessened for a space, and\nthen parted into branches. Twenty days was I a hacking and hewing this\ntree at the bottom, fourteen more in cutting off the branches and limbs,\nand a whole month in shaping it like the bottom of the boat. As for the\ninside, I was three weeks with a mallet and chissel, clearing it in such\na manner, as that it was big enough to carry twenty-six men, much bigger\nthan any canoe I ever saw in my life, and consequently sufficient to\ntransport me and all my effects to that wished-for shore I so\nardently desired.\nNothing remained now, but, indeed, the greatest difficulty to get it\ninto the water, it lying about one hundred yards from it. To remedy the\nfirst inconvenience, which was a rising hill between the boat and the\ncreek, with wonderful pains and labour I dug into the bowels of the\nearth, and made a declivity. But when this was done, all the strength I\nhad was as insufficient to remove it, as it was when I attempted to\nremove the boat. I then proceeded to measure the difference of ground,\nresolving to make a canal, in order to bring the water to the canoe,\nsince I could not bring the canoe to the water. But as this seemed to be\nimpracticable to myself alone, under the space of eleven or twelve\nyears, it brought me into some sort of consideration: so that I\nconcluded this also to be impossible, and the attempt altogether vain. I\nnow saw, and not before, _what stupidity it is to begin a work before we\nreckon its costs, or judge rightly our own abilities to go through with\nits performance_.\nIn the height of this work my fourth year expired, from the time I was\ncast on this island, At this time I did not forget my anniversary; but\nkept it with rather greater devotion than before. For now my hopes being\nfrustrated, I looked upon this world as a thing had nothing to do with;\nand very well might I say as Father Abraham said unto Dives, _Between\nthee and me there is a gulph fixed._ And indeed I was separated from its\nwickedness too, having neither the lust of the flesh, the lust of the\neye, nor the pride of life; I had nothing to covet, being lord, king and\nemperor over the whole country I had in possession, without dispute and\nwithout control: I had loadings of corn, plenty of turtles, timber in\nabundance, and grapes above measure. What was all the rest to me? the\nmoney I had lay by me as despicable dross, which I would freely have\ngiven for a gross of tobacco pipes, or a hard mill to grind my corn: in\na word the-nature and experience of these things dictated to me this\njust reflection: _That the good things of this world are no farther\ngood to us, than they are for our use; and that whatever we may heap up\nto give to others, we can but enjoy as much as we use, and no more._\nThese thoughts rendered my mind more easy than usual. Every time I sat\ndown to meat, I did it with thankfulness, admiring the providential hand\nof God, who in this wilderness had spread a table to me. And now I\nconsidered what I enjoyed, rather than what I wanted, compared my\npresent condition with what I at first expected it should be; _how I\nshould have done, if I had got nothing out of the ship, that I must have\nperished before I had caught fish or turtles; or lived, had I found\nthem, like a mere savage, by eating them raw, and pulling them in pieces\nwith my claws, like a beast_. I next compared my station to that which I\ndeserved: _how undutiful I had been to my parents; how destitute of the\nfear of God; bow void of every thing that was good; and how ungrateful\nfor those abundant mercies I had received from Heaven, being fed as it\nwere, by a miracle, even as great as Elijah's being fed by ravens; and\ncast on a place where there is no venomous creatures to poison or devour\nme_; in short making God's tender mercies matter of great consolation, I\nrelinquished all sadness, and gave way to contentment.\nAs long as my ink continued, which with water I made last as long as I\ncould, I used to minute down the days of the month on which any\nremarkable event happened.--And,\nFirst, I observed, _that the same day I forsook my parents and friends,\nand ran away to Hull, in order to go to sea, the same day afterwards in\nthe next year, I was taken and made a slave by the Sallee rovers_.\n_That the very day I escaped out of the wreck of the ship in Yarmouth\nroads, a year after on the same day, I made my escape from Sallee in my\npatron' fishing boat_.\n_And on the 30th of September, being the day of the year I was born on,\non that day twenty-six years after, was I miraculously saved, and cast\nashore on this island_.\nThe next thing that wasted after my ink, was the biscuit which I had\nbrought out of the ship, and though I allowed myself but one cake a day,\nfor above a twelvemonth, yet I was quite out of bread for near a year,\nbefore I got any corn of my own.\nIn the next place, my clothes began to decay, and my linen had been gone\nlong before. However, I had preserved about three dozen of the sailors\nchequered shirts, which proved a great refreshment to me, when the\nviolent beams of the sun would not suffer me to bear any of the seamen's\nheavy watch coats, which made me turn taylor, and, after a miserable\nbotching manner, convert them to jackets. To preserve my head, I made\nme a cap of goat-skins, with the hair outwards to keep out the rain;\nwhich indeed served me so well, that afterwards I made me a waistcoat\nand opened-kneed breeches of the fame: And then I contrived a sort of an\numbrella, covering it with skins, which not only kept out the heat of\nthe sun, but rain also. Thus being easy, and settled in my mind, my\nchief happiness was to converse with God, in most heavenly and\ncomfortable ejaculations.\nFor five years after this I cannot say any extraordinary thing occured\nto me. My chief employment was to cure my raisins, and plant my barley\nand rice, of both which I had a year's provision beforehand. But though\nI was disapointed in my first canoe, I made it, at intermediate times,\nmy business to make a second, of much inferior size; and it was\ntwo-years before I had finished it. But as I perceived it would no way\nanswer my design of sailing to the other shore, my thoughts were\nconsigned to take a tour round the island, to see what further\ndiscoveries I could make. To this intent, after having moved her to the\nwater, and tried how she would sail, I fitted up a little raft to my\nboat, and made a sail of the ships sail that by me. I then made lockers\nor boxes at the end of it, to put in necessaries, provision, and\nammunition, which would preserve them dry, either from rain or the spray\nof the sea; and in the inside of the boat, I cut me a long hollow place\nto lay my gun in, and to keep it dry made a flag to hang over it. My\numbrella I fixed in a step in the stern, like a mast, to keep the heat\nof the sun off me. And now resolving to see the circumference of my\nlittle kingdom, I victualled my ship for the voyage, putting in two\ndozen of my barley-bread loaves, an earthen pot-full of parched rice, a\nlittle bottle of rum, half a goat, powder and shot, and two watch coats.\nIt was the _6th_ of November, in the _6th_ year of my reign, or\ncaptivity, that I set out in this voyage; which was much longer than I\nexpected, being obliged to put further out, by reason of the rocks that\nlay a great way in the sea. And indeed so much did these rocks surprise\nme, that I was for putting back, fearing that if I ventured farther it\nwould be out of my power to return in this uncertainty I came to an\nanchor just off shore, to which I waded with my gun on my shoulder, and\nthen climbing up a hill, which overlooked that point, I saw the full\nextent of it, and so resolved to run all hazards.\nIn this prospect from the hill, I perceived a violent current running to\nthe east, coming very close to the point; which I the more carefully\nobserved, thinking it dangerous, and that when I came to it, I might be\ndrove into the sea by its force, and not able to return to the island;\nand certainly it must have been so, had I not made this observation; for\non the other side was the like current, with this difference, that it\nset off at a greater distance; and I perceived there was a strong eddy\nunder the land; so that my chief business was to work out of the first\ncurrent, and conveniently get into the eddy. Two days I staid here, the\nwind blowing very briskly E.S.E. which being contrary to the current,\nleaves a great breach of the sea upon the point; so it was neither fit\nfor me to keep too near the shore, on account of the breach; nor stand\nat too great a distance, for fear of the streams. That night the wind\nabating, it grew so calm, that I ventured out; & here I may be a\nmonument to all rash and ignorant pilots; for I was no sooner come to\nthe point and not above the boat's length from shore, but I was going\ninto a deep water, with a current like a mill, which drove my boat along\nso violently, that it was impossible for me to keep near the edge of it,\nbut forced me more and more out from the eddy to the left of me; and all\nI could do with my paddle were useless, there being no wind to help me.\nNow I began to look upon myself as quite lost, since as, the current ran\non both sides of the island, I was very certain they must join again,\nand then I had no hope but of perishing for want in the sea, after what\nprovision I had was spent, or before, if a storm should happen to arise.\nWho can conceive the present anguish of my mind at this calamity? with\nlonging eyes did I look upon my little kingdom, and thought the island\nthe pleasantest place in the universe. _Happy, thrice happy desert_,\nsaid I, _shall I never see thee more?_ _Wretched creature! wither am I\ngoing? Why did I murmur at my lonesome condition, when now I would give\nthe whole world to be thither again?_ While I was thus complaining, I\nfound myself to be driven about two leagues into the sea; however, I\nlaboured till my strength was far spent, to keep my boat as far north as\npossibly I could, to that side of the current where the eddy lay on.\nAbout noon I perceived a little breeze of wind spring up from the S.S.E.\nwhich overjoyed my heart; and was still more elated, when, in about half\nan hour it blew a gentle fine gale. Had any thick weather sprung up, I\nhad been left another way; for having no compass onboard, I should never\nhave found the way to steer towards the island, if once it had\ndisappeared; but it proving the contrary, I set up my mast again, spread\nmy sail, and stood away northward, as much as I could, to get rid of the\ncurrent. And no sooner did the boat begin to stretch away, but I\nperceived by the clearness of the water, a change of the current was\nnear; for, where it was strong, the water was foul; and where it was\nclear the current abated. To the east, I soon saw about half a mile, a\nbreach of the sea upon, some rocks, which caused it again to separate;\nand as the main force of it drove away more southwardly, leaving the\nrocks to the north-east, so the other came back by the repulse of the\nrocks making a sharp eddy, which returned back again to the north-west\nwith a very swift stream.\nThey who have experienced what it is to be reprieved upon the ladder, or\nto be saved from thieves, just going to take away their lives, or such\nas have been in the like calamities with my own, may guess my present\nexcess of joy, how heartily I ran my boat into the stream of this eddy,\nand how joyfully I spread my sail to the refreshing wind, standing\ncheerfully before it, with a smart tide under foot. By the assistance of\nthis eddy, I was carried above a league home again, when being in the\nwake of the island, betwixt the two currents, I found the water to be in\na sort of a stand. About four o'clock in the afternoon, I reached within\na league of the island, and perceived the points of the rock, which\ncaused this disaster, stretching out, as I observed before, to the\nsouthward, which throwing off the current more southwardly had\noccasioned another eddy to the north. But having a fair brisk gale, I\nstretched across this eddy, and in an hour came within a mile of the\nshore, where I soon landed to my unspeakable comfort; and after an\nhumble prostration, thanking God for my deliverance, with a resolution\nto lay all thoughts of escaping aside, I brought my boat safe to a\nlittle cove, and laid me down to take a welcome repose. When I awoke I\nwas considering how I might get my boat home; and coasting along the\nshore, I came to a good bay, which ran up to a rivulet or brook, where\nfinding a safe harbour, I stowed her as safe as if she had been in a\ndry-dock made on purpose for her.\nI now perceived myself not far from the place where before I had\ntravelled on foot; so taking nothing with me except my gun and umbrella,\nI began my journey, and in the evening came to my bower, where I again\nlaid me down to rest. I had not slept long before I was awakened in\ngreat surprise, by a strange voice that called me several times. _Robin,\nRobin, Robinson Crusoe, poor Robin! Where are you, Robinson Crusoe?\nWhere are you? Where have you been_?\nSo fast was I asleep at first, that I did not awake thoroughly: but half\nasleep and half awake, I thought I dreamed that somebody spoke to me.\nBut, as the voice repeated _Robinson Crusoe_ several times, being\nterribly affrighted, I started up in utmost confusion; and, no sooner\nwere my eyes fully open, but I beheld my pretty Poll sitting on the top\nof the hedge, and soon knew that it was he that called me; for just in\nsuch bewailing language I used to talk and teach him; which he so\nexactly learned that he would sit upon my finger and lay his bill close\nto my face, and cry, _Poor Robinson Crusoe, where are you? where have\nyou been? how came you here_? and such like prattle I had constantly\ntaught him. But even though I knew it to be the parrot, it was a great\nwhile before I could adjust myself; being amazed how the creature got\nthither, and that he should fix about that place; and no where else.\nBut now being assured it could be no other than my honest Poll, my\nwonder ceased, and reaching out my hand, and calling familiarly Poll,\nthe creature came to me, and perched upon my thumb as he was wont,\nconstantly prating to me with _Poor Robinson Crusoe, and how did I come\nhere, and where had I been?_ as if the bird was overjoyed to see me; and\nso I took him home along with me.\nI was now pretty well cured of my rambling to sea; yet I could wish my\nboat, which had cost me so much trouble and pains, on this side the\nisland once more, but which indeed was impracticable. I therefore began\nto lead a very retired life, living near a twelvemonth in a very\ncontented manner, wanting for nothing except conversation. As to\nmechanic labours, which my necessities obliged me to, I fancied I could,\nupon occasion, make a tolerable carpenter were the poor tools I had to\nwork withal but good. Besides, as I improved in my earthen ware, I\ncontrived to make them with a wheel, which I found much easier and\nbetter, making my work shapely, which before was rude and ugly. But I\nthink I was never so elevated with my own performance or project, than\nfor being able to make a tobacco-pipe, which though it proved an awkward\nclumsy thing, yet it was very sound, and carried the smoke perfectly\nwell, to my great satisfaction.\nI also improved my wicker ware, making me abundance of necessary\nbaskets, which though not very handsome, were very handy and convenient\nto fetch things home in, as also for holding my stores, barley, rice,\nand other provisions.\nMy powder beginning to fail, made me examine after what manner I should\nkill the goats or birds to live on after it was all gone. Upon which I\ncontrived many ways to ensnare the goats, and see if I could catch them\nalive, particularly a she-goat with young. At last I had my desire, for\nmaking pitfalls and traps baited with barley and rice, I found one\nmorning, in one of them, an old he-goat, and in the other three kids,\none male, the other two females.\nSo boisterous was the old one, that I could not bring him away. But I\nforgot the old proverb, _That hunger will tame a lion_: For had I kept\nhim three or four days without provisions, and then given him some\nwater, with a little corn, he would have been as tame as a young kid.\nThe other creatures I bound with strings together; but I had great\ndifficulty before I could bring them to my habitation. It was some time\nbefore they would feed; but throwing them sweet corn it so much tempted\nthem, that they began to be tamer. From hence I concluded, that if I\ndesigned to furnish myself with goat's flesh, when my ammunition was\nspent, the tamely breeding them up, like a flock of sheep, about my\nsettlement, was the only method I could take. I concluded also I must\nseparate the wild from the tame, or else they would always run wild as\nthey grew up; and the best way for this, was to have some inclosed piece\nof ground, well fenced, either with a hedge or pale, to keep them so\neffectually, that those within might not break out, or those without\nbreak in. Such an undertaking was very great for one pair of hands; but\nas there was an absolute necessity for doing it, my first care was to\nfind a convenient piece of ground where there was likely to be herbage\nfor them to eat, water to drink, and cover to keep them from the sun.\nHere again, I gave another instance of my ignorance and inexperience,\npitching upon a piece of meadow land so large, that had I inclosed it,\nthe hedge or pale must have been at least two miles about. Indeed had it\nbeen ten miles, I had time enough to do it in; but then I did not\nconsider that my goats would be as wild in so much compass, as if they\nhad had the whole island, and consequently as difficult for me to catch\nthem. This thought came into my head, after I had carried it on, I\nbelieve, about fifty yards; I therefore altered my scheme, and resolved\nto inclose a piece of ground about one hundred and fifty yards in\nlength, and one hundred in breadth, sufficient enough for as many as\nwould maintain me, till such time as my flock increased, and then I\ncould add more ground. I now vigorously prosecuted my work, and it took\nme about three months in hedging the first piece; in which time I\ntethered the three kids in the best part of it, feeding them as near me\nas possible, to make them familiar: and indeed I very often would carry\nsome ears of barley or a handful of rice, and feed them out of my hands;\nby which they grew so tame, that when my inclosure was finished, and I\nhad let them loose they would run after me for a handful of corn. This\nindeed answered my end; and in a year and half's time I had a flock of\nabout twelve goats, kids and all; and in two years after, they amounted\nto forty-three, besides what I had taken and killed for my sustenance.\nAfter which I inclosed five several pieces of ground to feed them in,\nwith pens to drive them into, that I might take them as I had occasion.\nIn this project I likewise found additional blessings; for I not only\nhad plenty of goat's flesh, but milk too, which in my beginning I did\nnot so much as think of. And, indeed, though I had never milked a cow,\nmuch less a goat, or seen butter or cheese made, yet, after some essays\nand miscarriages, I made the both, and never afterwards wanted.\nHow mercifully can the omnipotent Power comfort his creatures, even in\nthe midst of their greatest calamities? How can be sweeten the bitterest\nprovidences, and give us reason to magnify him in dungeons and prisons?\nwhat a bounteous table was here spread in a wilderness for me, where I\nexpected nothing thing at first but to perish for hunger.\nCertainly a Stoic would have smiled to see me at dinner. There sat my\nroyal majesty, and absolute prince and ruler of my kingdom, attended by\nmy dutiful subjects, whom, if I pleased, I could either hang, draw,\nquarter, give them liberty, or take it away. When I dined, I seemed a\nking eating alone, none daring to presume to do so till I had done.\n_Poll_, as if he had been my principal court favorite, was the only\nperson, permitted to talk with me. My old but faithful dog, now grown\nexceedingly crazy, and who had no species to multiply his kind upon,\ncontinually sat on my right hand; while my two cats sat on each side of\nthe table, expecting a bit from my hand, as a principal mark of my royal\nfavour. These were not the cats I had brought from the ship; they had\nbeen dead long before, and interred near my habitation by mine own hand.\nBut one of them, as I suppose, generating with a wild cat, a couple of\ntheir young I had made tame; the rest ran wild into the woods, and in\ntime grew so impudent as to return and plunder me of my stores, till\nsuch time as I shot a great many, and the rest left me without troubling\nme any more. In this plentiful manner did I live, wanting for nothing\nbut conversation. One thing indeed concerned me, the want of my boat; I\nknew not which way to get her round the island. One time I resolved to\ngo along the shore by land to her; but had any one in England met such a\nfigure, it would either have affrighted them, or made them burst into\nlaughter; nay, I could not but smile myself at my habit, which I think\nin this place will be very proper to describe.\nThe cap I wore on my head, was great, high, and shapeless, made of a\ngoat's skin, with a flap of pent-house hanging down behind, not only to\nkeep the sun from me, but to shoot the rain off from running into my\nneck, nothing being more pernicious than the rain falling upon the flesh\nin these climates. I had a short jacket of goat's skin, whose hair hung\ndown such a length on each side, that it reached down to the calves of\nmy legs. As for shoes and stockings, I had none, but made a semblance of\nsomething, I know not what to call them; they were made like buskins,\nand laced on the sides like spatterdashes, Barbarously shaped like the\nrest of my habit. I had a broad belt of goat's skin dried, girt round me\nwith a couple of thongs, instead of buckles; on each of which, to supply\nthe deficiency of sword and dagger, hung my hatchet and saw. I had\nanother belt, not so broad, yet fastened in the same manner, which hung\nover my shoulder, and at the end of it, under my left arm, hung two\npouches, made of goat's skin, to hold my powder and shot. My basket I\ncarried on my back, and my gun on my shoulder; and over my head a great\nclumsy ugly goat's skin umbrella; which, however, next to my gun, was\nthe most necessary thing about me. As for my face, the colour was not\nso swarthy as the Mulattoes, or might have been expected from one who\ntook to little care of it, in a climate within nine or ten degrees of\nthe equinox. At one time my beard grew so long that it hung down about a\nquarter of a yard; but as I had both razors scissors in store, I cut it\nall off, and suffered none to grow, except a large pair of Mahometan\nwhiskers, the like of which I had seen wore by some Turks at Sallee, not\nlong enough indeed to hang a hat upon, but of such a monstrous size, as\nwould have amazed any in England to have seen.\nBut all this was of no consequence here, there being none to observe my\nbehavior or habit. And so, without fear and without controul, I\nproceeded on my journey, the prosecution of which took me up five or six\ndays. I first travelled along the sea shore, directly to the place where\nI first brought my boat to an anchor, to get upon the rocks; but now\nhaving no boat to take care of, I went overland a nearer way to the same\nheight that I was before upon; when looking forward to the point of the\nrock, which lay out, and which I was forced to double with my boat, I\nwas amazed to see the sea so smooth and quiet, there being no ripling\nmotion, nor current, any more than in other places. This made me ponder\nsome time to guess the reason of it, when at last I was convinced that\nthe ebb setting from the west, and joining with the current of water\nfrom some great river on shore, must be the occasion of these rapid\nstreams; & that, consequently, as the winds blew more westwardly, or\nmore southwardly, so the current came he nearer, or went the farther\nfrom the shore. To satisfy my curiosity, I waited there till evening,\nwhen the time of ebb being made, I plainly perceived from the rock the\ncurrent again as before, with the difference that it ran farther off,\nnear half a league from the shore, whereas in my expedition, it set\nclose upon it, furiously hurrying me and my canoe along with it, which\nat another time would not have done. And now I was convinced, that, by\nobserving the ebbing and flowing of the tide I might easily bring my\nboat round the island again. But when I began to think of putting it in\npractice, the remembrance of the late danger, struck me with such\nhorror, that I changed my resolution, and formed another, which was more\nsafe, though more laborious; and this was to make another canoe, and to\nhave one for one side of the island, and one for the other.\nI had now two plantations in the island; the first my little\nfortification, fort, or castle, with many large and spacious\nimprovements; for by this time I had enlarged the cave behind me with\nseveral little caves, one with another, to hold my baskets, corn, and\nstraw. The piles with which I made my wall were grown so lofty and great\nas obscured my habitation. And near this commodious and pleasant\nsettlement, lay my well cultivated and improved corn-fields, which\nkindly yielded me their fruit in the proper season. My second plantation\nwas that near my country seat, or little bower, where my grapes\nflourished, and where, having planted many stakes, I made inclosures for\nmy goats, so strongly fortified by labour and time, that it was much\nstronger than a wall, and consequently impossible for them to break\nthrough. As for my bower itself, I kept it constantly in repair, and cut\nthe trees in such a manner, as made them grow thick and wild, and form a\nmost delightful shade. In the centre of this stood my tent, thus\nerected. I had driven four piles in the ground, spreading over it a\npiece of the ship's sail; beneath which I made a sort of couch with the\nskins of the creatures I had slain, and other things; and having laid\nthereon one of the sailor's blankets, which I had saved from the wreck\nof the ship, and covering myself with a great watch-coat, I took up this\nplace for my country retreat.\nVery frequently from this settlement did I use to visit my boat, and\nkeep her in very good order. And sometimes I would venture in her a cast\nor two from shore, but no further, lest either a strong current, a\nsudden stormy wind, or some unlucky accident should hurry me from the\nisland as before. But now I entreat your attention, whilst I proceed to\ninform you of a new, but most surprising scent of life which there\nbefel me.\nYou may easily suppose, that, after having been here so long, nothing\ncould be more amazing than to see a human creature. One day it happened,\nthat going to my boat I saw the print of a man's naked foot on the\nshore, very evident on the sand, as the toes, heel, and every part of\nit. Had I seen an apparition in the most frightful shape, I could not\nhave been more confounded. My willing ears gave the strictest attention.\nI cast my eyes around, but could satisfy neither the one nor the other,\nI proceeded alternately in every part of the shore, but with equal\neffect; neither could I see any other mark, though the sand about it was\nas susceptible to take impression, as that which was so plainly stamped.\nThus struck with confusion and horror, I returned to my habitation,\nfrightened at every bush and tree, taking every thing for men; and\npossessed with the wildest ideas. That night my eyes never closed. I\nformed nothing but the most dismal imaginations, concluding it must be\nthe mark of the devil's foot which I had seen. For otherwise how could\nany mortal come to this island? where was the ship that transported\nthem? & what signs of any other footsteps? Though these seemed very\nstrong reasons for such a supposition, yet (thought I) why should the\ndevil make the print of his foot to no purpose, as I can see, when he\nmight have taken other ways to have terrified me? why should he leave\nhis mark on the other side of the island, and that too on the sand,\nwhere the surging waves of the ocean might soon have erased the\nimpression. Surely this action is not consistent with the subtility of\nSatan, said I to myself; but rather must be some dangerous creature,\nsome wild savage of the main land over against me, that venturing too\nfar in the ocean, has been driven here, either by the violent currents\nor contrary winds; and not caring to stay on this desolate island, has\ngone back to sea again.\n[Illustration: Robinson Crusoe struck with confusion and horror, at\nseeing the print of a man's foot upon the sand _Dr. & Eng. by A.\nCarse, Edin._]\nHappy, indeed, said I to myself, that none of the savages had seen me in\nthat place: yet I was not altogether without fear, lest, having found my\nboar, they should return in numbers and devour me; or at least carry\naway all my corn, and destroy my flock of tame goats. In a word, all my\nreligious hopes vanished, as though I thought God would not now protect\nme by his power, who had so wonderfully preserved me so long.\nWhat various chains of Providence are there in the life of man! How\nchangeable are our affections, according to different circumstances! We\nlove to-day, what we hate to-morrow; we shun one hour, what we seek the\nnext. This was evident in me in the most conspicous manner: For I, who\nbefore had so much lamented my condition, in being banished from all\nhuman kind, was now even ready to expire, when I considered that a man\nhad set his foot on this desolate island. But when I considered my\nstation of life decreed by the infinitely wise and good providence of\nGod, that I ought not to dispute my Creator's sovereignty, who has an\nunbounded right to govern and dispose of his creatures as he thinks\nconvenient; and that his justice and mercy could either punish or\ndeliver me: I say when I considered all this, I comfortably found it my\nduty to trust sincerely in him, pray ardently to him, and humbly resign\nmyself to his divine will.\nOne morning, lying on my bed, these words of the sacred writings came\ninto my mind, _Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver\nthee, and thou shalt glorify me._ Upon this sentence, rising more\ncheerfully from my bed, I offered up my prayers in the most heavenly\nmanner; and when I had done, taking up my Bible to read, these words\nappeared first in my sight:--_Wait on the Lord, and be of good cheer,\nand he shall strengthen thy heart: Wait, I say, on the Lord._ Such\ndivine comfort did this give me, as to remove all cause of sadness upon\nthat occasion.\nThus, after a world of apprehensions and fears, for three days and\nnights, I at last ventured out of my castle, and milked my goats, one of\nwhich was almost spoiled for want of it. I next (though in great fear)\nvisited my bower, and milked my flocks there also; when, growing bolder,\nI went down to the shore again, and measuring the print of the foot to\nmine, to see, perhaps, whether I myself had not occasioned that mark, I\nfound it much superior in largeness; and so returned home, now\nabsolutely convinced that either some men had been ashore, or that the\nisland must be inhabited, and therefore that I might be surprised before\nI was aware.\nI now began to think of providing for my security, and resolved in my\nmind many different schemes for that purpose. I first proposed to cut\ndown my inclosures; and turn my tame cattle wild into the woods that the\nenemy might not find them, and frequent the island in hopes of killing\nthe same. Secondly, I was for digging up my corn fields for the very\nsame reason. An, lastly, I concluded to demolish my bower, lest, seeing\na place of human contrivance, they might come farther and find out and\nattack me in my little castle.\nSuch notions did the fear of danger suggest to me; and I looked I\nthought like the unfortunate king Saul, when not only oppressed by the\nPhilistines, but also forsaken by God himself. And, it is strange, that\na little before, having entirely resigned myself to the will of God, I\nshould now have little confidence in him, fearing those more who could\nkill this fading body, than him who could destroy my immortal soul.\nSleep was an utter stranger to my eyes that night: yet nature, spent and\ntired, submitted to a silent repose the next morning, and then joining\nreason with fear, I considered that this delightful and pleasant island\nmight not be to entirely forsaken as I might think; but that the\ninhabitants from the other shore might fail, either with design or from\nnecessity, by cross winds; and if the latter circumstance. I had reason\nto believe they would depart the first opportunity. However, my fear\nmade me think of a place for retreat upon an attack. I now repented that\nI had made my door to come out beyond my fortification; to remedy which,\nI resolved to make me a second one: I fell to work, therefore, and drove\nbetwixt that double row of trees, which I planted above twelve years\nbefore, several strong piles, thickening it with pieces of timber and\nold cables, and strengthening the foot of it with earth which I dug out\nof my cave; I also made me seven holes, wherein I planted my muskets\nlike cannon, fitting them into frames resembling carriages. This being\nfinished with indefatigable industry, for a great way every where, I\nplanted sticks of osier like a wood, about twenty thousand of them,\nleaving a large space between them and my wall, that I might have room\nto see an enemy, and that they might not be sheltered among the young\ntrees, if they offered to approach the outer wall. And, indeed, scarce\ntwo years had passed over my head, when there appeared a lovely shady\ngrove, and in six years it became a thick wood perfectly impassable. For\nmy safety, I left no avenue to go in or out: instead of which I set two\nladders, one to a part of a rock which was low, and then broke in,\nleaving room to place another ladder upon that; so that when I took\nthese down, it was impossible for any man to descend without hurting\nhimself; and if they had, they would still be at the outside of my outer\nwall. But while I took all these measures of human prudence for my own\npreservation I was not altogether unmindful of other affairs. To\npreserve my stock of tame goats, that the enemy should not take all at\nonce, I looked out for the most retired part of the island, which was\nthe place where I had lost myself before-mentioned; and there finding a\nclear piece of land, containing three acres, surrounded with thick\nwoods, I wrought so hard, that in less than a month's time, I fenced it\nso well round, that my flocks were very well secured in it, and I put\ntherein two he-goats and ten she ones.\nAll this labour was occasioned purely by fearful apprehensions, on\naccount of seeing the print of a man's foot. And not contented yet with\nwhat I had done, I searched for another place towards the west point of\nthe island, where I might also retain another flock. Then wandering on\nthis errand more to the west of the island than ever I had yet done, and\ncasting my eyes towards the sea, methought I perceived a boat at a great\ndistance; but could not possibly tell what it was for want of my\nperspective glass. I considered then it was no strange thing to see the\nprint of a man's foot; and concluding them cannibals, blessed God for\nbeing cast on the other side of the island, where none of the savages,\nas I thought, ever came. But when I came down the hill to the shore,\nwhich was the S.W. point of the island, I was soon confirmed in my\nopinion; nor can any one describe my horror and amazement, when I saw\nthe ground spread with sculls, hands, feet, and bones of human bodies;\nand particularly, I perceived a space like a circle, in the midst of\nwhich had been a fire, about which I conjectured these wretches sat, and\nunnaturally sacrificed and devoured their fellow creatures.\nThe horror and loathsomeness of this dreadful spectacle, both confounded\nmy senses, and made me discharge from my stomach in an excessive manner.\nI then returned towards my habitation; and, in my way thither, shedding\nfloods of tears, and falling down on my bended knees, gave God thanks\nfor making my nature contrary to these wretches, and delivering me so\nlong out of their hands.\nThough reason and my long residence here had assured me, that these\nsavages never came up to the thick woody parts of the country, and that\nI had no reason to be apprehensive of a discovery; yet such an abhorence\ndid I still retain, that, for two years after, I confined myself only to\nmy three plantation: I mean my castle, country-seat, and inclosure in\nthe woods. And though in process of time, my dreadful apprehensions\nbegan to wear away, yet my eyes were more vigilant for fear of being\nheard by those creatures, they should proceed to attack me. I resolved,\nhowever, manfully to lose my life if they did, and went armed with three\npistols stuck in my girdle, which added to the description I have given\nof myself before, made me look with a very formidable appearance.\nThus my circumstances for some time remained very calm and undisturbed;\nand when I compared my condition to others, I found it far from being\nmiserable. And, indeed, would all persons compare their circumstances,\nnot with those above them, but with those innumerable unhappy objects\nbeneath them, I am sure we should not hear these daily murmurings and\ncomplainings that are in the world. For my part, I wanted but few\nthings. Indeed, the terror which the savages had put me in, spoiled some\ninventions for my own conveniences. One of my projects was to brew me\nsome beer; a very whimsical one indeed, when it is considered that I had\nneither casks sufficient; nor could I make any to preserve it in;\nneither had I hops to make it keep, yest to make it work, nor a copper\nor kettle to make it boil. Perhaps, indeed, after some years, I might\nbring this to bear, as I had done other things. But now my inventions\nwere placed another way; and day and night I could think of nothing but\nhow I might destroy some of these cannibals, when proceeding to their\nbloody entertainments; and so saving a victim from being sacrificed,\nthat he might after become my servant. Many were my contrivances after\nthis purpose, and as many more objections occurred after I hatched them.\nI once contrived to dig a hole under the place where they made their\nfire, and put therein five or six pounds of gunpowder, which would\nconsequently blow up all those that were near it: but then I was loth to\nspend so much upon them, lest it should not do that certain execution I\ncould desire, & but only affright & not kill them. Having laid this\ndesign aside, I again proposed to myself to lie privately in ambush, in\nsome convenient place, with my three guns double loaded, and let fly at\nthem in the midst of their dreadful ceremony: and having killed two or\nthree of them at every shot, fall upon the rest suddenly with my three\npistols, & not let one mother's son escape. Thus imagination pleased my\nfancy so much that I used to dream of it in the night time. To put my\ndesign in execution, I was not long in seeking for a place convenient\nfor my purpose, where unseen I might behold every action of the savages.\nHere I placed my two muskets, each of which was loaded with a brace of\nslugs, and four or five smaller bullets about the size of pistol\nbullets; the fowling-piece was charged with near a handful of the\nlargest swan-shot, and in every pistol were about four bullets. And thus\nall things being prepared, no sooner would the welcome light spread over\nthe element, but, _like a giant refreshed with wine_, as the Scripture\nhas it, would I issue forth from my castle, and from a lofty hill, three\nmiles distant, view if I could see any invaders approach unlawfully to\nmy kingdom. But having waited in vain two or three months, it not only\ngrew very tiresome to me, but brought me to some consideration, and\nmade me examine myself, what right I had to kill these creatures in\nthis manner.\nIf (argued I to myself) this unnatural custom of theirs be a sin\noffensive to Heaven, it belongs to the Divine Being, who alone has the\nvindictive power in his hands, to shower down his vengeance upon them.\nAnd perhaps he does so, in making them become one another's\nexecutioners. Or, if not, if God thinks these doings just, according to\nthe knowledge they conceive, what authority have I to pretend to thwart\nthe decrees of Providence, which has permitted these actions for so many\nages, perhaps from almost the beginning of the creation? They never\noffended me, what right have I then to concern myself in their shedding\none another's blood: And, indeed, I have since known, they value no more\nto kill and devour a captive taken in war, than we do to kill an ox or\neat mutton. I then concluded it necessarily followed, that these people\nwere no more murderers than Christians, who many times put whole troops\nto the sword, after throwing down their arms.--Again I considered, that\nif I fell upon them, I should be as much in the wrong as the Spaniards,\nwho had committed the greatest barbarities upon these people who had\nnever offended them in their whole lives; as if the kingdom of Spain was\neminent for a race of men without common compassion to the miserable, a\nprincipal sign of the most generous temper: these considerations made me\npause, and made me think I had taken wrong measures in my resolution: I\nnow argued with myself, it was better for me never to attack, but to\nremain undiscovered as long as I possibly could; that an opposite\nconduct would certainly prove destructive; for as it was scarcely to be\nsupposed I could kill them all, I might either be overpowered by the\nremaining, or that some escaping, might bring thousands to my certain\ndestruction. And, indeed, religion took their part so much as to\nconvince me how contrary it was to my duty to be guilty of shedding\nhuman blood, innocent as to my particular, whatever they are to one\nanother: that I had nothing to do with it, but leave it to the God of\nall power and dominion, as I said before, to do therein what seemed\nconvenient to his heavenly wisdom. And, therefore, on my knees I thanked\nthe Almighty for delivering me from blood guiltiness, and begged his\nprotection that I might never fall into their hands.\nThus giving over an attempt which I had rashly begun, I never ascended\nthe hill on that occasion afterwards: I only re-removed my boat, which\nlay on the other side of the island, and every thing that belonged to\nher, towards the east, into a little cove; that there might not be the\nleast shadow of any boat near, or habitation upon the island.--My castle\nthen became my cell, keeping always retired in it, except when I went\nout to milk my she-goats, and order my little flock in the wood, which\nwas quite out of danger: for sure I was that these savages never came\nhere with expectations to find any thing, consequently never wandered\nfrom the coast; however, as they might have several times been on shore,\nas well before as after my dreadful apprehensions, I looked back with\nhorror to think in what state I might have been, had I suddenly met them\nslenderly armed; with one gun only loaded with small shot; and how great\nwould have been my amazement, if, instead of seeing the print of one\nman's foot, I had perceived fifteen, or twenty savages, who having once\nset their eyes upon me, by the swiftness of their feet would have left\nme no possibility of escaping? These thoughts would sink my very soul,\nso that I would fall into a deep melancholy, till such time as the\nconsideration of my gratitude to the Divine Being moved it from my\nheart. I then fell into a contemplation of the secret springs of\nProvidence, and how wonderfully we are delivered, when insensible of it;\nand when intricated in uncertain mazes or labyrinths of doubt or\nhesitation, what secret hint directs us in the right way, when we\nintended to go out of it, nay, perhaps contrary to our business, sense\nor inclination. Upon which, I fixed within me this as a certain rule,\nnever to disobey those secret impressions of the mind, to the acting or\nnot acting any thing that offered, for which I yet could assign no\nreason. But let it be how it will, the advantage of this conduct very\neminently appeared in the latter part of my abode on this island; I am,\na stranger in determining whence these secret intimations of Providence\nderive; yet methinks they are not only some proof of the converse of\nspirits, but also of the secret communications they are supposed to have\nwith those that have not passed through the gloomy vale of death.\nThese anxieties of mind, and the care of my preservation, put a period\nto all future inventions and contrivances, either for accommodation or\nconvenience. I now cared not to drive a nail, chop a stick, fire a gun\nor make a fire, lest either the noise should be heard, or the smoke\ndiscover me. And on this account I used to burn my earthen ware\nprivately in a cave which I found in the wood, and which I made\nconvenient for that purpose; the principal cause that brought me here\nwas to make charcoal, so that I might bake and dress my bread and meat\nwithout any danger. At that time a curious accident happened me, which I\nshall now relate.\nWhile I was cutting down some wood for making my charcoal, I perceived a\ncavity behind a very thick branch of underwood. Curious to look into it,\nI attained its month, and perceived it sufficient for me to stand\nupright in. But when I had entered, and took a further view, two rolling\nshining eyes like flaming stars seemed to dart themselves at me; so that\nI made all the haste out that I could, as not knowing whither it was the\ndevil or a monster that had taken his residence in that place. When I\nrecovered a little from my surprise, I called myself a thousand fools,\nfor being afraid to see the devil one moment, who had now lived almost\ntwenty years in the most retired solitude. And therefore resuming all\nthe courage I had, I took a flaming firebrand, and in I rushed again. I\nhad not proceeded above three steps, when I was more affrighted than\nbefore; for then I heard a very loud sigh, like that of a human creature\nin the greatest agony, succeeded with a broken noise, resembling words\nhalf expressed, and then a broken sigh again. Stepping back, _Lord!_\n(thought I to myself) _where am I got, into what enchanted place have I\nplunged myself, such as are reported to contain miserable captives, till\ndeath puts an end to their sorrow_? And, indeed, in such great amazement\nwas I, that it struck me into a cold sweat; and had my hat been on my\nhead, I believe my hair would have moved it off. But again encouraging\nmyself with the hopes of God's protection, I proceeded forward, and, by\nthe light of my firebrand, perceived it to be a monstrous he-goat, lying\non the ground, gasping for life, and dying of mere old age. At first, I\nstirred him, thinking to drive him out, but the poor ancient creature\nstrove to get upon his feet, but was not able; so I e'en let him lie\nstill to affright the savages, should they venture into this cave. I now\nlooked round me and found the place but small and shapeless. At the\nfarther side of it, I perceived a sort of an entrance, yet so low, as\nmust oblige me to creep upon my hands and knees to it; so, having no\ncandle, I suspended my enterprise till the next day, and then I came\nprovided with two large ones of my own making.\nHaving crept upon my hands and feet, through this strait, I found the\nroof higher up, I think about twenty feet. But surely mortal never saw\nsuch a glorious sight before! The roof and walls of this cave reflected\na hundred thousand lights to me from my two candles, as though they were\nindented with mining gold, precious stones, or sparkling diamonds. And\nindeed it was the most delightful cavity or grotto of its kind that\ncould be desired, though entirely dark. The floor was dry and level, and\nhad a kind of gravel upon it: no nauseous venomous creatures to be seen\nthere, neither any damp or wet about it. I could find no fault but in\nthe entrance, and I began to think that even this might be very\nnecessary for my defence, and therefore resolved to make it my most\nprincipal magazine. I brought hither two fowling-pieces, and three\nmuskets, leaving only five pieces at my castle, planted in the nature of\ncannon. Of the barrel of gunpowder, which I took up out of the sea, I\nbrought away about sixty pounds powder, which was not damaged, and this\nwith a great quantity of lead for bullets, I removed for my castle to\nthis retreat, now fortified both by art and nature.\nI fancied myself now like one of the giants of old, who were said to\nlive in caves and holes among the rocks, inaccessible to any but\nthemselves, or, at lest, a most dangerous to attempt. And now I despised\nboth the cunning and strength of the savages, either to find me out or\nto hurt me.\nBut I must not forget the old goat, which caused my late dreadful\namazement. The poor creature gave up the ghost the day after my\ndiscovery; & it being difficult to drag him out, I dug his grave, and\nhonourably entombed him in the same place where is departed, with as\nmuch ceremony as any Welch goat that has been interred about the high\nmountain Penmanmawn.\nI think I was now in the twenty-third year of my reign, and my thoughts\nmuch easier than formerly, having contrived several pretty amusements\nand diversions to pass away the time in a pleasant manner. By this time\nmy pretty Poll had learned to speak English, and pronounce his words\nvery articulately and plain; so that for many hours we used to chat\ntogether after a familiar manner, and he lived with me no less than\ntwenty-six years. My dog which was nineteen years old, sixteen of which\nhe lived with me, died some time ago of mere old age. As for my cats,\nthey multiplied so fast, that I was forced to kill or drive them into\nthe woods, except two or three which became my particular favourites.\nBesides these, I continually kept two or three household kids about me,\nwhich I learned to feed out of my hand, and two more parrots which could\ntalk indifferently, and call _Robinson Crusoe_, but not so excellently\nas the first, as not taking that pains with them. I had also several\nsea-owls which I had wounded and cut their wings; and growing tame, they\nused to breed among the low trees about my castle walls, all which made\nmy abode very agreeable.\nBut what unforeseen events suddenly destroy the enjoyment, of this\nuncertain state of life, when we least expect them! it was now the month\nof December, in the southern solstice, and particular time of my\nharvest, which required my attendance in the fields; when going out\npretty early one morning, before it was day-light, there appeared to me,\nfrom the sea shore, a flaming light, about two miles from me at the east\nend of the island, where I had observed some savages had been before,\nnot on the other side, but to my great affliction, it was on my side\nthe island.\nStruck with a terrible surprise, and my usual apprehensions, that the\nsavages would perceive my improvements, I returned directly to my\ncastle, pulled the ladder after me, making all things look as wild and\nnatural as I possibly could. In the next place, I put myself into a\nposture of defence, loading my muskets and pistols, and committing\nmyself to God's protection, I resolved to defend myself till my last\nbreath. Two hours after, impatient for intelligence, I set my ladder up\nto the side of the hill, where there was a flat place, and then pulling\nthe ladder after me ascended to the top, where laying myself on my\nbelly, with my perspective glass, I perceived no less than nine naked\nsavages, sitting round a small fire, eating, as I supposed human flesh,\nwith their two canoes haled on shore, waiting for the flood to carry\nthem off again. You cannot easily express the consternation I was in at\nthis sight, especially seeing them near me; but when I perceived their\ncoming must be always with the current of the ebb, I became more easy in\nmy thoughts, being fully convinced that I might go abroad with security\nall the time of flood, if they were not before landed. And, indeed, this\nproved just as I imagined; for no sooner did they all take boat and\npaddle away, but the tide made N.W. Before they went off they danced,\nmaking ridiculous postures and gestures for above an hour, all stark\nnaked; but whether men or women, or both, I could not perceive. When I\nsaw them gone, I took two guns upon my shoulders, and placing a couple\nof pistols in my belt, with my great sword hanging by my side, I went to\nthe hill, where at first I made a discovery of these cannibals, and then\nsaw there had been three canoes more of the savages on shore at that\nplace, which with the rest were making over to the main land.\nBut nothing could be more horrid to me, when going to the place of\nsacrifice, the blood, the bones, and other mangled parts of human bodies\nappeared in my sight; and so fired was I with indignation, that I was\nfully resolved to be revenged on the first that came there, though I\nlost my life in the execution. It then appeared to me, that the visits\nwhich they make to this island are not very frequent, it being fifteen\nmonths before they came again; but still I was very uneasy, by reason of\nthe dismal apprehensions of their surprising me unawares; nor dared I\noffer to fire a gun on that side of the island where they used to\nappear, lest, taking the alarm, the savages might return with many\nhundred canoes, and then God knows in what manner I should have made my\nend. Thus was I a year or more before I saw any of these devouring\ncannibals again.\nBut to wave this, the following accident, which demands attention, for a\nwhile eluded the force of my thoughts in revenging myself on\nthose Heathens.\nOn the 16th of May (according to my wooden calendar) the wind blew\nexceedingly hard, accompanied with abundance of lightning and thunder\nall day, and succeeded by a very stormy night. The seeming anger of the\nHeavens made me have recourse to my Bible. While I was seriously\npondering upon it, I was suddenly alarmed with the noise of a gun, which\nI conjectured was fired upon the ocean. Such an unusual surprise made me\nstart up in a minute, when, with my ladder, ascending the mountain as\nbefore, that very moment a flash of fire presaged the report of another\ngun which I presently heard, and found it was from that part of the sea\nwhere the current drove me away. I could not but then think, that this\nmust be a ship in distress, and that there were the melancholy signals\nfor a speedy deliverance. Great, indeed, was my sorrow upon this\noccasion; but my labours to assist them must have proved altogether vain\n& fruitless. However, I brought together all the dry wood that was at\nhand, and making a pretty large pile, set it on fire on the hill. I was\ncertain they plainly perceived it, by their firing another gun as soon\nas it began to blaze, and after that several more from the same quarter.\nAll night long I kept up my fire: and when the air cleared up, I\nperceived something a great way at sea, directly E. but could not\ndistinguish what it was, even with my glass, by reason that the weather\nwas so very foggy out at sea. However, keeping my eyes directly fixed\nupon it, and perceiving it did not stir, I presently concluded it must\nbe a ship at anchor, and so very hasty I was to be satisfied, that\ntaking the gun, I went to the S.E. part of the island, to the same rocks\nwhere I had been formerly drove away by the current, in which time the\nweather being perfectly cleared up, to my great sorrow, I perceived the\nwreck of a ship cast away upon those hidden rocks I found when I was out\nwith my boat; and which, by making a kind of an eddy, were the occasion\nof my preservation.\nThus, _what is one man's safety is another's ruin_; for undoubtedly this\nship had been driven on them in the night, the wind blowing strong at\nE.N.E. Had they perceived the island, as I now guessed they had not,\ncertainly, instead of firing there guns for help, they would rather have\nventured in their boat and saved themselves that way. I then thought,\nthat perhaps they had done so, upon seeing my fire, and were cast away\nin the attempt: for I perceived no boat in the ship. But then I again\nimagined, that, perhaps, they had another vessel in company, which, upon\nsignal, saved their lives, and took the boat up: or that the boat might\nbe driven into the main ocean, where these poor creatures might be in\nthe most miserable condition. But as all these conjectures were very\nuncertain, I could do no more than commiserate there distress, and thank\nGod for delivering me, in particular, when so many perished in the\nraging ocean.\nWhen I considered seriously every thing concerning this wreck, and could\nperceive no room to suppose any of them saved, I cannot explain, by any\npossible force of words, what longings my soul felt on this occasion,\noften breaking out in this manner: _O that there had been but two or\nthree, nay even one person saved, that we might have lived together,\nconversed with, and comforted one another!_ and so much were my desires\nmoved, that when I repeated these words, _Oh! that there had been but\none!_ my hands would clench together, and my fingers press the palms of\nmy hands to close, that, had any soft thing been between, it would have\ncrushed it involuntarily, while my teeth would strike together, and set\nagainst each other so strong that it required some time for me to\npart them.\nTill the last year of my being on this island, I never knew whether or\nnot any had been saved out of this ship. I had the affliction, some time\nafter, to see the corpse of a drowned boy come on shore, at the end of\nthe island which was next the shipwreck; there was nothing on him but a\nseaman's waistcoat, a pair of opened kneed linen drawers, and a blue\nlinen shirt, but no particular mark to guess what nation he was of. In\nhis pocket were two pieces of eight, and a tobacco-pipe, the last of\nwhich I preferred much more than I did the first. And now the calmness\nof the sea tempted me to venture out in my boat to this wreck, not only\nto get something necessary out of the ship, but perhaps, some living\ncreature might be on board, whose life I might preserve. This had such\nan influence upon my mind, that immediately I went home, and prepared\nevery thing necessary for the voyage, carrying on board my boat\nprovisions of all sorts, with a good quantity of rum, fresh water, and a\ncompass: so putting off, I paddled the canoe along the shore, till I\ncame at last to the north-east part of the island, from whence I was to\nlaunch into the ocean; but here the currents ran so violently, and\nappeared so terrible, that my heart began to fail me; foreseeing that if\nI was driven into any of these currents, I might be carried not only out\nof reach or sight of the island, but even inevitably lost in the boiling\nsurges of the ocean.\nSo oppressed was I at these troubles, that I gave over my enterprize,\nsailing to a little creek on the shore, where stepping out, I set me\ndown on a rising hill, very pensive and thoughtful. I then perceived\nthat the tide was turned; and the flood came on, which made it\nimpracticable for me to go out for so many hours. To be more certain how\nthe sets of the tides or currents lay when the flood came in, I ascended\na higher piece of ground, which overlooked the sea both ways; and here I\nfound that as the current of the ebb set out close by the south point of\nthe island, so the current of the flood set in close by the shore of the\nnorth side; and all that I had to do was to keep to the north of the\nisland in my return.\nThat night I reposed myself in my canoe, covered with my watch coat,\ninstead of a blanket, the heavens being my tester. I set out with the\nfirst of the tide full north, till I felt the benefit of the current,\nwhich carried me at a great rate eastward, yet not with such impetuosity\nas before, as to take from me all government of my canoe; so that in two\nhours time I came up to the wreck, which appeared to me a most\nmelancholy sight. It seemed to be a Spanish vessel by its building,\nstuck fast between two rocks; her stern and quarter beaten to pieces by\nthe sea; her mainmast and foremast were brought off by the board, that\nis broken off short. As I approached near, I perceived a dog on board,\nwho seeing me coming, yelped and cried, and no sooner did I call him,\nbut the poor creature jumped into the sea, out of which I took him up,\nalmost famished with hunger and thirst; so that when I gave him a cake\nof bread, no ravenous wolf could devour it more greedily; and he drank\nto that degree of fresh water, that he would have burst himself, had I\nsuffered him.\nThe first sight I met with in the ship, were two men drowned in the\ncook-room or forecastle, inclosed in one another's arms: hence I very\nprobably supposed, that _when the vessel struck in the storm, so high\nand incessantly did the waters break in and over her, that the men not\nbeing able to bear it, were strangled by the constant rushing in of the\nwaves_. There were several casks of liquor, whether wine of brandy, I\ncould not be positive, which lay in the lower hold, as were plainly\nperceptible by the ebbing out of the water, yet were too large for me to\npretend to meddle with; likewise I perceived several chests, which I\nsupposed to belong to the seamen, two of which I got into my boat,\nwithout examining what was in them. Had the stern of the ship been\nfixed, and the forepart broken off, I should have made a very prosperous\nvoyage; since by what I after found in these two chests, I could not\notherwise conclude, but that the ship must have abundance of wealth on\nboard; nay, if I must guess by the course she steered, she must have\nbeen bound from the Buenos Ayres, or the Rio de la Plata, in the\nsouthern parts of America, beyond the Brazils, to the Havannah, in the\ngulf of Mexico, and so perhaps to Spain. What became of the rest of the\nsailors, I could not certainly tell; and all her riches signified\nnothing at that time to any body.\nSearching farther, I found a cask containing about twenty gallons, full\nof liquor, which, with some labour, I got into my boat; in her cabin\nwere several muskets, which I let remain there; but took away with me a\ngreat powder horn, with about four pounds of powder in it. I took also a\nfire-shovel and tongs, two brass kettles, a copper pot to make\nchocolate, and a gridiron; all which were extremely necessary to me,\nespecially the fire-shovel and tongs. And so with this cargo,\naccompanied with my dog, I came away, the tide serving for that purpose;\nand the same evening, about an hour within night, I attained the island,\nafter the greatest toil and fatigue imaginable.\nThat night I reposed my wearied limbs in the boat, resolving the next\nmorning to harbour what I had gotten in my new-found subterraneous\ngrotto; & not to carry my cargo home to my ancient castle. Having\nrefreshed myself, and got all my effects on shore I next proceeded to\nexamine the particulars; and so tapping the cask, I found the liquor to\nbe a kind of rum, but not like what we had at the Brazils, nor indeed\nnear so good. At the opening of the chest, several things appeared very\nuseful to me; for instance, I found in one a very fine case of bottles,\ncontaining the finest and best sorts of cordial waters; each bottle held\nabout three pints, curiously tip with silver. I found also two pots full\nof the choicest sweetmeats, and two more which the water had utterly\nspoiled. There were likewise several good shirts exceedingly welcome to\nme, and about one dozen and a half white linen handkerchiefs and\ncoloured neckcloths, the former of which was absolutely necessary for\nwiping my face in a hot day; and, in the till, I found three bags of\npieces of eight, about eleven hundred in all, in one of which, decently\nwrapped up in a piece of paper, were six doubloons of gold, and some\nsmall bars and wedges of the same metal, which I believe might weigh\nnear a pound. In the other chest, which I guessed to belong to the\ngunner's mate, by the mean circumstances which attended it, I found only\nsome clothes of very little value, except about two pounds of fine\nglazed powder, in three flasks, kept, as I believe, for charging their\nfowling pieces on any occasion; so that, on the whole, I had no great\nadvantage by this voyage. The money was indeed as mere dirt to me,\nuseless and unprofitable, all which I would freely have parted with for\ntwo or three pair of English shoes and stockings; things that for many\nyears I had not worn, except lately those which I had taken of the feet\nof those unfortunate men I found drowned in the wreck, yet not so good\nas English shoes either for ease or service. I also found in the\nseaman's chest about fifty pieces of eight in royals, but no gold; so\nconcluded that what I took from the first belonged to an officer, the\nlatter appearing to have a much inferior person for its owner. However,\nas despicable as the money seemed, I likewise lugged it to my cave,\nlaying it up securely, as I did the rest of my cargo; and after I had\ndone all this, I returned back to my boat, rowing and paddling her along\ntill I came to my old harbour, where I carefully laid her up, and so\nmade the best of my way to my castle. When I arrived there, every thing\nseemed safe and quiet: so that now my only business was to repose myself\nafter my wonted manner, and take care of my domestic affairs. But though\nI might have lived very easy, as wanting nothing absolutely needful, yet\nstill I was more vigilant than usual upon account of the savages, never\ngoing much abroad; or, if I did, it was to the east part of the island,\nwhere I was well assured that the savages never came, and where I might\nnot be troubled to carry that heavy load of weapons for my defence, as I\nwas obliged to do if I went the other way.\nTwo years did I live in this anxious condition, in all which time,\ncontrary to my former resolutions, my head was filled with nothing but\nprojects and designs, how I might escape from this island; and so much\nwere my wandering thoughts bent upon a rambling disposition that had I\nhad the same boat that I went from Sallee in, I should have ventured\nonce more to the uncertainty of the raging ocean.\nI cannot, however, but consider myself as one of the unhappy persons,\nwho make themselves wretched by there dissatisfaction with the stations\nwhich God has placed them in; for, not to take a review of my primitive\ncondition, and my father's excellent advice, the going contrary to which\nwas, as I may say, my original sin, the following mistakes of the same\nnature certainly had been the means of my present unhappy station. What\nbusiness had I to leave a settled fortune, and well stocked plantation,\nimproving and increasing, where, by this time, I might have been worth a\nhundred thousand moidores, to turn supercargo to Guinea, to fetch\nNegroes, when time and patience would so much enlarge my stock at home,\nas to be able to employ those whose more immediate business it was to\nfetch them home even to my door?\nBut as this is commonly the fate of young heads, so a serious reflection\nupon the folly of it ordinarily attends the exercise of future years,\nwhen the dear bought experience of time teaches us repentance. Thus was\nit with me; but not withstanding the thoughts of my deliverance ran so\nstrongly in my mind, that is seemed to check all the dictates of reason\nand philosophy. And now to usher in my kind reader with greater pleasure\nto the remaining part of my relation, I flatter myself it will not be\ntaken amiss, to give him an account of my first conceptions of the\nmanner of escaping, and upon what foundation I laid my foolish schemes.\nHaving retired to my castle, after my late voyage to the ship, my\nfrigate laid up and secured, as usual, and my condition the same as\nbefore, except being richer, though I had as little occasion for riches\nas the Indians of Peru had for gold, before the cruel Spaniards came\namong them: One night in March, being the rainy season in the four and\ntwentieth year of my solitude, I lay down to sleep, very well in health,\nwithout distemper pain, or uncommon uneasiness, either of body or mind;\nyet notwithstanding, I could not compose myself to sleep all the night\nlong. All this tedious while, it is impossible to express what\ninnumerable thoughts came into my head. _I traced quite over the whole\nhistory of my life in miniature, from my utmost remembrance of things\ntill I came to this island, and then proceeded to examine every action\nand passage that had occurred since I had taken possession of my\nkingdom._ In my reflections upon the latter, I was _comparing the happy\nposture of my affairs from the beginning of my reign, to this life of\nanxiety, fear, and concern, since I had discovered a print of a foot in\nthe sand; that while I continued without apprehension, I was incapable\nof feeling the dread and terror I now suffered._ How thankful rather\nought I to have been for the knowledge of my danger, since the greatest\nhappiness one can be possessed of is to have sufficient time to provide\nagainst it? How stupendous is the goodness of Providence, which sets\nsuch narrow bounds to the sight and knowledge of human nature, that\nwhile men walk in the midst of so many dangers they are kept serene and\ncalm, by having the events of things hid from their eyes and knowing\nnothing of those many dangers that surround them, till perhaps they are\ndissipated and vanish away.\nWhen I came more particularly to considerer of _the real danger I had\nfor so many years escaped; how I had walked about in the greatest\nsecurity and tranquility, at a time, perhaps, when even nothing but the\nbrow of a hill, a great tree, or the common approach of night, had\ninterposed between me and the destructive hands of the cannibals, who\nwould devour me with as good an appetite, as I would a pigeon or\ncurlew;_ surely all this, I say, could not but make me sincerely\nthankful to my great Preserver, whose singular protection I acknowledge\nwith the greatest humility, and without which I must inevitably have\nfallen into the cruel hands of those devourers.\nHaving thus discussed my thoughts in the clearest manner, according to\nmy weak understanding, I next proceeded to consider _the wretched nature\nof those destroying savages, by seeming, though with great reverence,_\nto enquire _why God should give up any of his creatures to such\ninhumanity, even to brutality itself, to devour its own kind?_ but as\nthis was rather matter of obstruse speculation, and as my miserable\nsituation made me think this of mine the most uncomfortable situation in\nthe world, I then began rather to inquire _what part of the world these\nwretches lived in; how far off the coast was from whence they came; why\nthey ventured over so far from home; what kind of boats conveyed them\nhither; and why I could not order myself and my business so, that I\nmight be able to attack their country, as they were to come to\nmy kingdom.\nBut then_ thought I, _how shall I manage myself when I come thither?\nwhat will become of me if I fall into the hands of the savages? or how\nshall I escape from them if they make an attempt upon me? and supposing\nI should not fall into their power, what shall I do for provisions, or\nwhich way shall I bend my course?_ These counter thoughts threw me into\nthe greatest horror and confusion imaginable; but then I still looked\nupon my present condition to be the most miserable that possibly could\nbe, and that nothing could be worse, except death _For_ (thought I)\n_could I but attain the shore of the main, I might perhaps meet with\nsome reliefs, or coast it along, as I did with my boy Xury, on the\nAfrican shore, till I came to some inhabited country, where I might meet\nwith some relief, or fall in with some Christian ship that might take me\nin; and if I failed, why then I could but meet with death, which would\nput an end to all my miseries._ These thoughts, I must confess, were the\nfruit of a distempered mind and impatient temper made desperate, as it\nwere, by long continuance of the troubles and disappointments I had met\nwith in the wreck; where I hoped to have found some living person to\nspeak to, by whom I might have known in what place I was, and of the\nprobable means of my deliverance. Thus, while my thoughts were agitated,\nmy resignation to the will of heaven was entirely suspended; to that I\nhad no power to fix my mind to any thing, but to the project of a voyage\nto the main land. And indeed so much was I inflamed upon this account,\nthat it set my blood into a ferment, and my pulse beat high, as though I\nhad been in a fever; till nature being, as it were, fatigued and\nexhausted with the thoughts of it, made me submit myself to a\nsilent repose.\nIn such a situation, it is very strange, that I did not dream of what I\nwas so intent upon; but, instead of it, my mind roved on a quite\ndifferent thing, altogether foreign. I dreamed, that as I was issuing\nfrom my castle one morning, as customary, when I perceived upon the\nshore two canoes, and eleven savages coming to land, who had brought\nwith them another Indian, whom they designed to make a sacrifice of, in\norder to devour; but just as they were going to give the fatal blow,\nmethought the poor designed victim jumped away, and ran directly into my\nlittle thick grove before my fortification, to abscond from his enemies,\nwhen perceiving that the others did not follow him that way, I appeared\nto him; that he humbly kneeled down before me, seeming to pray for my\nassistance; upon which I showed him my ladder, made him ascend, carried\nhim to my cave, and he became my servant; and when I had gotten this\nman, I said to myself, _now surely I may have some hopes to attain the\nmain land; for this fellow will serve me as a pilot, tell me what to do,\nand where I must go for provisions, what places to shun, what to venture\nto, and what to escape._ But when I awaked, and found all these\ninexpressible impressions of joy entirely vanished, I fell into the\ngreatest dejection of spirit imaginable.\nYet this dream brought me to reflect, that one sure way of escaping was\nto get a savage; that after I had ventured my life to deliver him from\nthe bloody jaws of his devourers, the natural sense he might have of\nsuch a preservation, might inspire him with a lasting gratitude and most\nsincere affection. But then this objection reasonably interposed: _how\ncan I effect this,_ thought I, _without I attack a whole company of\nthem, and kill them all? why should I proceed on such a desperate\nattempt, which my scruples before had suggested to be unlawful?_ and\nindeed my heart trembled at the thoughts of so much blood, though it\nwere a means to procure my deliverance. 'Tis true, I might reasonably\nenough suppose these men to be real enemies to my life, men who would\ndevour me, was it in their power, so that it was self preservation in\nthe highest degree to free myself, by attacking them in my own defence,\nas lawfully as if they were actually assaulting me: though all these\nthings, I say, seemed to me to be of the greatest weight, yet, as I just\nsaid before, the dreadful thoughts of shedding human blood, struck such\na terror to my soul, that it was a long time before I could reconcile\nmyself to it.\nBut how far will the ardency of desire prompt us on? For notwithstanding\nthe many disputes and perplexities I had with myself, I at length\nresolved, right or wrong, to get one of these savages into my hands,\ncost what it would, or even though I should lose my life in the attempt.\nInspired with this firm resolution, I set all my wits at work, to find\nout what methods I should take to answer my design: this, indeed, was so\ndifficult a task, that I could not pitch upon any probable means to\nexecute it: I, therefore, resolved continually to be in a vigilant\nposture, to perceive when the savages came on shore and to leave the\nrest to the event, let the opportunities offer as they would.\nSuch was my fixed resolutions; and accordingly I set myself upon the\nscout, as often as I could, till such time as I was heartily tired of\nit. I waited for above a year and a half, the greatest part of which I\nwent out to the west, and south-west corner of the island, almost every\nday, to look for canoes, but none appeared. This was a very great\ndiscouragement; yet, though I was very much concerned, the edge of my\ndesign was as keen as ever, and the longer it seemed to be delayed, the\nmore eager was I for it: in a word, I never before was so careful to\nshun the loathing sight of these savages, as I was now eager to be with\nthem; and I thought myself sufficiently able to manage one, two, or\nthree savages if I had them, so as to make them my entire slaves, to do\nwhatsoever I should direct them, and prevent their being able at any\ntime to do me any mischief. Many times did I used to please myself with\nthese thoughts, with long and ardent expectations; but nothing\npresenting, all my deep projected schemes and numerous fancies vanished\naway, as though, while I retained such thoughts, the decrees of\nProvidence was such, that no savages were to come near me.\nAbout a year and a half after, when I was seriously musing of sundry\nother ways how I should attain my end, one morning early I was very much\nsurprised by seeing no less than five canoes all on shore together, on\nmy side the island, and the savages that belonged to them all landed,\nand out of my sight. Such a number of them disconcerted all my measures;\nfor, seeing so many boats, each of which would contain six, and\nsometimes more, I could not tell what to think of it, or how to order my\nmeasures, to attack twenty or thirty men single-handed; upon which, much\ndispirited and perplexed, I lay still in my castle; which, however, I\nput in a proper posture for an attack: and, having formerly provided all\nthat was necessary, was soon ready to enter upon an engagement, should\nthey attempt. Having waited for some time, my impatient temper would let\nme bear it no longer; I set my guns at the foot of my ladder, and, as\nusual, ascended up to the top of the hill at two stages, standing,\nhowever, in such a manner, that my head did not appear above the hill,\nso that they could easily perceive me; and here, by the assistance of my\nperspective glass, I observed no less than thirty in number around a\nfire, feasting upon what meat they had dressed: how they cooked it, or\nwhat it was, I could not then perfectly tell; but they were all dancing\nand capering about the flames, using many frightful and\nbarbarous gestures.\nBut while, with a curious eye, I was beholding these wretches, my\nspirits sunk within me, when I perceived them drag two miserable\ncreatures from the boats, to act afresh the dreadful tragedy, as I\nsupposed they had done before. It was not long before one of them fell\nupon the ground, knocked down, as I suppose, with a club or wooden\nsword, for that was their manner; while two or three others went\nimmediately to work, cutting him open for their cookery, and then fell\nto devour him as they had done the former, while the last unhappy\ncaptive was left by himself, till such time as they were ready for him.\nThe poor creature looked round him with a wishful eye, trembling at the\nthoughts of death; yet, seeing himself a little at liberty, nature, that\nvery moment, as it were, inspired him with hopes of life: He started\naway from them, and ran, with incredible swiftness along the sands,\ndirectly to that part of the coast where my ancient and venerable\ncastle stood.\nYou may well imagine, I was dreadfully affrighted upon this occasion,\nwhen, as I thought, they pursued him in a whole body, all running\ntowards my palace. And now, indeed, I expected that part of my dream was\ngoing to be fulfilled, and that he would certainly fly to my grove for\nprotection; but, for the rest of my dream, I could depend nothing on it;\nthat the savages would pursue him thither, and find him there. However\nmy spirits, beginning to recover, I still kept upon my guard; and I now\nplainly perceived, there were but three men out of the number that\npursued him. I was infinitely pleased with what swiftness the poor\ncreature ran from his pursuers, gaining so much ground upon them, that I\nplainly perceived, could he thus hold out for half an hour, there was\nnot the least doubt but he would save his life from the power of\nhis enemies.\nBetween them and my castle there was a creek, that very same which I\nsailed into with all my effects from the wreck of the ship on the steep\nbanks of which I very much feared the poor victim would be taken, if he\ncould not swim for his escape: but soon was I out of pain for him, when\nI perceived he made nothing of it, though at full tide, but with an\nintrepid courage, spurred on by the sense of danger, he plunged into the\nflood, swimming over in about thirty strokes, and then landing, ran with\nthe same incredible strength and swiftness as before. When the three\npursuers came to the creek, one of them, who I perceived could not swim,\nhappily for his part, returned to his company, while the others, with\nequal courage, but much less swiftness attained the other side, as\nthough they were resolved never to give over the pursuit. And now or or\nnever I thought was the time for me to procure me a servant, companion,\nor assistant; and that I was decreed by Providence to be the instrument\nto save this poor creature's life. I immediately descended my two\nladders with the greatest expedition: I took up my two guns, which, I\nsaid before, were at the bottom of them, and getting up again with the\nsame haste towards the hill, I made nearer the sea. In a word, taking a\nshort cut down the hill, I interposed between the pursuers and pursued,\nhallooing aloud to the latter, who, venturing to look back, was, no\ndoubt, as much terrified at me as I at them. I beckoned to him with my\nhand, to return back, in the mean time advancing towards the pursuers,\nand rushing on the foremost, I knocked him down with the stock of my\npiece, and laid him flat on the ground. I was very unwilling to fire\nlest the rest should hear, though at a distance, I question whether they\ncould or no; and being out of sight of the smoke, they could not easily\nhave known what to make of it. The other savage seeing his fellow fall,\nstopped as if he had been amazed; when advancing towards him, I could\nperceive him take his bow from his back, and, fixing and arrow to it,\nwas preparing to shoot at me, and, without dispute, might have lodged\nthe arrow in my breast; but, in this absolutely necessary case of self\npreservation, I immediately fired at him, and shot him dead, just as his\nhand was going to draw the fatal string. All this while, the savage who\nhad fled before stood still, and had the satisfaction to see his enemies\nkilled, as he thought, who designed to take away his life; so affrighted\nwas he with the fire and noise of my piece, _that he stood as it were\nlike Lot's wife, fixed and immoveable, without either sense or motion_.\nThis obliged me to halloo to him again, making the plainest signs I\ncould to him to draw nearer. I perceived he understood those tokens by\nhis approaching to me a little way, when, as is afraid I should kill him\ntoo, he stopped again. Several times did he advance, as often stop in\nthis manner, till coming more, to my view, I perceived him trembling, as\nif he was to undergo the same fate. Upon which I looked upon him with a\nsmiling countenance, and still beckoning to him, at length he came close\nto me and kneeled down, kissed my hand, laid his head upon it, and\ntaking me by the foot, placed it upon his head; and this, as I\nunderstood afterwards, was in token of swearing to be my slave for ever.\nI took him up, and, making much of him, encouraged him in the best\nmanner I could. But my work was not yet finished; for I perceived the\nsavage whom I knocked down, was not killed, but stunned with the blow,\nand began to come to himself, Upon which I pointed to my new servant,\nand shewed him that his enemy was not yet expired, he spoke some words\nto me, but which I could not understand; yet being the first sound of a\nman's voice I had heard for above twenty-five years, they were very\npleasing to me. But there was no time for reflection now, the wounded\nsavage recovering himself so far as to sit upon the ground, which made\nmy poor prisoner as much afraid as before; to put him out of which fear,\nI presented my other gun at the man, with an intent to shoot him; but my\nsavage, for so I must now call him, prevented my firing, by making a\nmotion to me, to lend him my sword, which hung naked in my belt by my\nside. No sooner did I grant his request, but away he runs to his enemy,\nand at one blow cut off his head as dextrously as the most accomplished\nexecutioner in Germany could have done; for, it seems, these creatures\nmake use of wooden swords made of hard wood which will bear edge enough\nto cut off heads and arms at one blow. When this valorous exploit was\ndone, he comes to me laughing, as a token of triumph, delivered me my\nsword again, with abundance of suprising gestures, laying it, along with\nthe bleeding and ghastly head of the Indian, at my feet.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON CRUSOE rescuing FRIDAY from his pursuers.]\nThe greatest astonishment that my new servant conceived was the manner\nof killing the savage at such a distance, without a bow and arrow; and\nsuch was his longing desire to know it, that he first pointed to the\ndead carcase, and then made signs to me to grant him leave to go up to\nhim. Upon which I bid him go, and, as well as I could, made him sensible\nI granted his request. But when he came there, how wonderfully was he\nstruck with amazement! First, he turned him on one side, then on\nanother, wondering he could perceive no quantity of blood, he bleeding\ninwardly; and after sufficiently admiring the wound the bullet had made\nin his breast, he took up his bow and arrows, and came back again; upon\nwhich I turned to go away, making signs to him to follow, left the rest\nmissing their companions, might come in pursuit of them, and this I\nfound he understood very well, by his making me understand that his\ndesign was to bury them, that they might not be seen if it happened; and\nwhich by signs again I made him sensible I very much approved of.\nImmediately he fell to work, and never was a grave-digger more dextrous\nin the world than he was; for in an instant, as I might say, he scraped\na large hole in the sand with his hands, sufficient to bury the first\nin; there he dragged him; and without any ceremony he covered him over;\nin like manner he saved the other; so that I am sure no undertaker could\nbe more expert in his business, for all this was done in less than a\nquarter of an hour. I then called him away, and instead of carrying him\ndirectly to my castle at first, I conveyed him to my cave on the farther\npart of the island; and so my dream was now fulfilled in that\nparticular, that my grove should prove an asylum or sanctuary to him.\nWeary and faint, hungry and thirsty, undoubtedly must this poor creature\nbe, supported chiefly by the vivacity of spirit, and, uncommon\ntransports of joy that his deliverance occasioned. Here I gave him bread\nand a bunch of raisins to eat, and water to drink, on which he fed very\ncheerfully, to his exceeding refreshment. I then made him a convenient\nbed with a parcel of rice straw, and a blanket upon it, (a bed which I\nused myself sometimes) and then pointing to it, made signs for him to\nlie down to sleep, upon which the poor creature went to take a\nwelcome repose.\nIndeed he was a very comely, handsome, young fellow, extremely well\nmade, with straight long limbs, not too large, but tall and well shaped,\nand, as near as I could reckon, about twenty-six years of age. His\ncountenance had nothing in it fierce or surly, but rather a sort of\nmajesty in his face; and yet, especially when he smiled, he had all the\nsweetness and softness of an European. His hair was not curled like\nwool, as many of the blacks are, but long and black, with the most\nbeautiful, yet careless tresses spreading over his shoulders. He had a\nvery high and large forehead, with a great vivacity and sparkling\nsharpness in his eyes. His skin was not so tawney, as the Virginians,\nBrazilians, or other Americans; but rather of a bright dun, olive\ncolour, that had something agreeable in it, though not very easy to give\na description of. His face was round and plump, with a small nose, very\ndifferent from the flatness of the negroes, a pretty small mouth, thin\nlips, fine teeth, very well set, and white as the driven snow. In a\nword, such handsome features, and exact symmetry in every part, made me\nconsider that I had saved the life of an Indian prince, no less graceful\nand accomplished than the great _Oroonoko_ whose memorable behavior and\nunhappy contingencies of life have charmed the world, both to admiration\nof his person, and compassion to his sufferings.\nBut let him be either prince or peasant, all my happiness centered in\nthis, that I had now got a good servant or companion, to whom, as he\ndeserved, I was resolved to prove a kind master and a lasting friend. He\nhad not, I think, slept above an hour when he awakened again, and while\nI was milking my goats hard by, out he runs from the cave towards me in\nmy inclosure, and laying himself down on the ground, in the lowest\nprostration, made all the antic gestures imaginable, to express his\nthankfulness to me for being his deliverer. I confess though the manner\nof his behaviour seemed to be ludicrous enough to occasion, laughter,\nyet I was very much moved at his affection, so that my heart melted\nwithin me, fearing he might die away in excess of joy, like reprieved\nmalefactors, especially as I was incapable either to let him blood, or\nadminister physic. It were to be wished, that Christians would take\nexample by this Heathen, to have received by the kind mediation and\npowerful interposition of their benefactors and deliverers; and it would\nbe likewise happy for mankind, were there no occasion to blame many,\nwho, instead of thankfully acknowledging favours and benefits, rather\nabuse and condemn those who have been the instruments to save them from\ndestruction.\nBut, leaving these just reflections, I return to the object that\noccasioned them; for my man, to conclude the last ceremony of obedience,\nlaid down his head again on the ground, close to my foot, and set my\nother foot upon is head, as he had done before, making all the signs of\nsubjection, servitude, and submission imaginable, and let me understand\nhe would serve me as long as his life endured. As I understood him in\nmany things, I made him sensible I was very well pleased with him; and,\nin a little time, I began to speak to him, and learn him to talk to me\nagain. In the first place, I made him understand his name was to be\n_Friday_, because it was upon that day I saved his life; then I taught\nhim to say _Master_, which I made him sensible was to be my name. I\nlikewise taught him to say _Yes_ and _No_, and to know what they meant.\nI gave him some milk in an earthen pot, making him view me while I drank\nit before him, and soaked my bread in it; I gave him a cake of bread,\nand caused him to soak it likewise, to which he readily consented,\nmaking signs of the greatest satisfaction imaginable.\nAll that night did I keep him there; but no sooner did the morning light\nappear, when I ordered him to arise, and come along with me, with\ncertain tokens that I would give him some clothes like mine, at which he\nseemed very glad, being stark naked, without the least covering\nwhatever. As we passed by the place where the two men had been interred,\nmy man pointed directly to their graves, showing me the marks that he\nhad made to find them again, giving me to understand, by signs, that we\nshould dig them up, and devour them. At this I appeared extremely\ndispleased, expressed my utmost abhorrence, as if I would vomit at the\napprehensions of it, beckoning with my hand to come away, which he did\nwith the greatest reverence and submission. After this I conducted him\nto the top of the hill, to view if the rest of the savages were yet\nremaining there; but when I looked through my perspective glass, I could\nsee no appearance of them, nor of their canoes; so that it was evident\nthey never minded their deceased companions whom we had slain: which if\nthey had, they would surely have searched for, or left one boat behind\nfor them to follow, after they returned from their pursuit.\nCuriosity, and a desire of satisfaction, animating me with courage to\nsee this scene of barbarity, I took my man Friday with me, putting a\nsword into his hand, with the bow and arrows at his back, which I\nperceived he could use very dexterously, causing him to carry one gun\nfor me, and I two for myself; and thus equipped against all attacks,\naway we marched directly to the place of their bloody entertainment. But\nwhen I came there, I was struck with the utmost horror at so dreadful a\nspectacle, whilst Friday was no way concerned about it, being no doubt\nin his turn one of these devourers. Here lay several human bones, there\nseveral pieces of mangled flesh, half eaten, mangled, and scorched,\nwhilst streams of blood ran promiscuously as waters from a fountain. As\nI was musing on this dreadful sight, Friday took all the pains he could,\nby particular signs, to make me understand, that they had brought over\nfour prisoners to feast upon, three of whom they had eaten up, and that\nhe was the fourth, pointing to himself; that there having been a bloody\nbattle between them and his great king, in the just defence of whom he\nwas taken prisoner, with many others; all of these were carried off to\ndifferent places to be devoured by their conquerors; and that it was his\nmisfortune to be brought hither by these wretches for the same purpose.\nAfter I was made sensible of these things, I caused Friday to gather\nthose horrid remains, and lay them together upon a heap, which I ordered\nto be set on fire, and burnt them to ashes: My man, however, still\nretained the nature of a cannibal, having a hankering stomach after some\nof the flesh; but such an extreme abhorrence did I express at the least\nappearance of it, that he durst not but conceal it; for I made him very\nsensible, that if he offered any such thing, I would certainly\nshoot him.\nThis being done, I carried my man with me to my castle, and gave him a\npair of linen drawers, which I had taken out of the poor gunner's chest\nbefore mentioned; and which, with a little alteration, fitted him very\nwell; in the next place I made him a jerkin of goat's skin, such as my\nskill was able to manage, and indeed I thought myself then a tolerable\ngood tailor. I gave him also a cap which I made of a hare's skin, very\nconvenient and fashionable. Thus being clothed tolerably well, my man\nwas no less proud of his habit, than I was at seeing him in it. Indeed\nhe went very aukwardly at first, the drawers being too heavy on his\nthighs not used to bear any weight, and the sleeves of the waistcoat\ngalled his shoulders and the inside of his arms; but by a little easing\nwhere he complained they hurt him, and by using himself to them, at\nlength he took to them very well.\nMy next concern was, where I should lodge him; and that I might do well\nby him, and yet be perfectly easy myself, I erected a tent for him in\nthe vacant place between my two fortifications, in the inside of the\nlast, and the outside of the first; and, as there was an entrance or\ndoor into my cave, I made a formal framed door-case, and a door to open\non the inside; I barred it up in the night time, taking in my ladders\ntoo, so that, was my man to prove treacherous, there could be no way to\ncome at me in the inside of my innermost wall, without making so much\nnoise in getting over, that it must needs waken me; for my first wall\nhad now a complete roof over it of long poles, spreading over my tent,\nand leaning up to the side of the mountain, which was again laid cross\nwith smaller sticks instead of laths, and thatched over a great\nthickness with the rice straw, which was as strong as reeds; and at the\nhole of the place, left on purpose to go in or out by the ladder, had\nplaced a kind of trap-door, which, if it had been attempted on the\noutside, would not have opened at all, but have fallen down, and made a\ngreat noise; and as to my weapons, every night I took them all to my\nbed side.\nBut there was no occasion for this precaution; for surely never master\nhad a more sincere, faithful, and loving servant, than Friday proved to\nme. Without passion, sullenness, or design, perfectly obliging and\nengaging, his affections were as much tied to me, as those of a child to\nits parents; & I might venture to say, he would have sacrificed his life\nfor the saving mine, upon any occasion whatsoever. And indeed the many\ntestimonies he gave me of this, sufficiently convinced me that I had no\noccasion to use these precautions. And here I could not but reflect with\ngreat wonder, that however it hath pleased the Almighty in his\nprovidence, and in the government of the creation, to take from so great\na part of the world of his creatures, the noblest uses to which their\nfaculties, and the powers of their souls are adapted; yet that he has\nbestowed upon them the same reason, affections, sentiments of kindness\nand obligation, passions of resentment, sincerity, fidelity, and all the\ncapacities of doing and receiving good that he has given us; and that\nwhen he is graciously pleased to offer them occasions of exerting these,\nthey are as ready, nay, more ready, to apply them to the proper uses for\nwhich they were bestowed, than we often are. These thoughts would make\nme melancholy, especially when I considered how mean a use we make of\nall these, even though we have these powers enlightened by the Holy\nSpirit of God, and by the knowledge of this world, as an addition to our\nunderstanding; and why it has pleased the heavenly Wisdom to conceal the\nlife saving knowledge from so many millions of souls who would certainly\nmake a much better use of it than generally mankind do at this time.\nThese reflections would sometimes lead me so far, as to invade the\nsovereignty of Providence, and, as it were, arraign the justice of such\nan arbitrary disposition of things, that should obscure that light from\nsome, and reveal it to others, and yet expect a like duty from all. But\nI closed it up, checking my thoughts with this conclusion; first, That\nwe were ignorant of that right and law by which those should be\ncondemned; but as the Almighty was necessarily, and by the nature of his\nessence, infinitely just and holy; so it could not be otherwise, but\nthat if these creatures were all destined to absence from himself, it\nwas on account of sinning against that light, _which_, as the Scripture\nsays, _was a law to themselves_ and by such rules as their consciences\nwould acknowledge to be just, though the first foundation was not\ndiscovered to us. And, secondly, That still as we were the clay in the\nhand of the potter, no vessel could thus say to him, _Why hast thou\nfashioned me after this manner_?\nI had not been above two or three days returned to my castle, but my\nchief design was, how I should bring Friday off from this horrid way of\nfeeding; and to take from him that inhuman relish he by nature had been\naccustomed to, I thought it my duty to let him taste other flesh, which\nmight the rather tempt him to the same abhorrence I so often expressed\nagainst their accursed way of living. Upon which, one morning I took him\nout with me, with an intention to kill a kid out of the flock, and bring\nit home and dress it. As I was going, I perceived a she-goat lying down\nin the shade, and two young kids sitting by her. Immediately I catched\nhold of my man Friday, and bidding him stand still, and not stir, I\npresented my piece, and shot one of the kids. My poor servant, who had\nat a distance perceived me kill his adversary, and yet did not know by\nwhat means, or how it was done, stood trembling and surprised, and\nlooked so amazed, that I thought he would have sunk into the earth. He\ndid not see the kid I aimed at, or behold I had killed it, but ripped up\nhis waistcoat to see if he was not wounded, thinking my resolution was\nto kill him; for coming to me, he fell on his knees, earnestly\npronouncing many things which I did not understand the meaning of; which\nat length I perceived was, that I would not take away his life.\nIndeed I was much concerned to see him in that condition, where nature\nis upon the severest trial, when the immediate hand of death is ready to\nput for ever a period to this mortal life; and indeed so much compassion\nhad I to this creature, that it was with difficulty I restrained from\ntears. But, however, as another sort of countenance was necessary, and\nto convince him that I would do no harm, I took him smiling by the hand,\nthen laughed at him, and pointing to the kid which I had slain, made\nsigns to him to fetch it, which accordingly he did. No less curious was\nhe in viewing how the creature was killed, than he had been before in\nbeholding the Indian; which, while he was admiring at, I charged my gun\nagain, and presently perceived a great fowl like a hawk, perching upon a\ntree within shot; and therefore, to let Friday understand what I was\ngoing to do, I called him to me again, pointing at the fowl, which I\nfound to be a parrot. I made him understand that I would shoot and kill\nthat bird; accordingly I fired, and bade him look, when immediately he\nsaw the parrot fall down. Again he stood like one amazed,\nnotwithstanding all I had said to him: and the more confounded he was,\nbecause he did not perceive me put any thing into my gun. Undoubtedly a\nthing so utterly strange, carrying death along with it, far or near,\neither to man or beast, must certainly create the greatest astonishment\nto one who never had heard such a thing in his whole life; and really\nhis amazement continued so long, that had I allowed it, he would have\nprostrated himself before me and my gun, with the greatest worship and\nadoration. As for the gun in particular, he would not so much as touch\nit for several days after, but would come & communicate his thoughts to\nit, & talk to it, as if the senseless piece had understood and answered\nhim; all this I could perceive him do, when he thought my back was\nturned, the chief intent of which was, to desire it not to kill him, as\nI afterwards came to understand.\nI never strove to prevent his admiration, nor hinder him from those\ncomical gestures he used on such occasions; but when his astonishment\nwas a little over, I make tokens to him to run and fetch the parrot that\nI had shot; which accordingly he did, staying some time longer than\nusual, by reason the bird not being quite dead, had fluttered some way\nfurther from the place where she fell. In the mean time, as he was\nlooking for her, I took the advantage of charging my gun again, that so\nI might be ready for any other mark that offered; but nothing more\noccurred at that time. So I brought home the kid, and the same evening\ntook off the skin and divided the carcase as well as I could. Part of\nthe flesh I stewed and boiled in a pot I had for this purpose. And then\nspreading my table, I sat down, giving my man some of it to eat, who was\nwonderfully pleased and seemed to like it very well: but what was the\nmost surprising to him was to see me eat salt with it: upon which he\nmade me understand, that the salt was very bad for me; when putting a\nlittle into his mouth, he seemed to nauseate it in such a manner as to\nspit and sputter at it, and then washed his mouth with fresh water: but\nto shew him how contrary his opinion was to mine, I put some meat into\nmy mouth without salt and feigned to spit and sputter as much for the\nwant of it, as he had done at it; yet all this proved of no\nsignification to Friday; and it was a long while before he could endure\nsalt in his meat or broth, and even then but a small quantity.\nThus having fed him sufficiently with boiled meat and broth at that\ntime, the next day I was resolved to feast him with a roasted piece of\nthe kid. And having no spit to fasten it, nor jack to turn it, I made\nuse of that common artifice which many of the common people of England\nhave, that is to let two poles upon each side of the fire, and one cross\non top, hanging the meat thereon with a string, and so turning round\ncontinually, roast it, in the same manner as we read bloody tyrants of\nold cruelly roasted the holy martyrs. This practice caused great\nadmiration in my man Friday, being quite another way than that to which\nthe savages were accustomed. But when he came to taste the sweetness and\ntenderness of the flesh, he expressed his entire satisfaction above a\nthousand different ways. And as I could not but understand his meaning,\nyou may be sure I was as wonderfully pleased, especially when he made it\nalso very plain to me, that he would never, while he lived eat man's\nflesh more.\nIt was now high time I should set my servant to work; so next day I set\nhim to beat out some corn, and sat it in the same manner as I had done\nbefore. And really the fellow was very quick and handy in the execution\nof any thing I ordered him to go about. I made him understand that it\nwas to make bread for us to eat, and afterwards let him see me make it.\nIn short, he did every thing as I ordered him, and in a little time as\nwell as I could perform it myself.\nBut now considering that I had two mouths to feed instead of one, it was\nnecessary that I must provide more ground for my harvest, and plant a\nlarger quantity of corn than I commonly used to do; upon which I marked\nout a larger piece of land, fencing it in, in the same manner as I had\ndone before; in the execution of which I must give Friday this good\nword; that no man could work, more hardy or with better will than he\ndid: and when I made him sensible that it was for bread to serve him as\nwell as me, he then very passionately made me understand that he thought\nI had much more labour on his account, than I had for myself; and that\nno pains or diligence should be wanting in him, if I would but direct\nhim in those works wherein he might proceed.\nI must certainly own, that this was the most pleasant year I ever had on\nthe island; for after some time Friday began to talk pretty well, and\nunderstood the names of those things which I was wont to call for, and\nthe places where I used to send him. So that my long silent tongue,\nwhich had been useless so many years, except in an exclamatory manner,\neither for deliverance or blessings, now began to be occupied in\nteaching, and talking to my man Friday for indeed I had such a singular\nsatisfaction in the fellow himself, so innocent did his simple and\nunfeigned honesty appear more and more to me every day, that I really\nbegan entirely to love him; and for his part, I believe there was no\nlove lost, and that his nature had been more charmed by his exceeding\nkindness, and his affections more placed upon me, than any other object\nwhatsoever among his own countrymen. I once had a great mind to try if\nhe had any hankering inclination to his own country again; and by this\ntime, having learned the English so well; that he could give me\ntolerable answer to any question which I demanded. I asked him whether\nthat nation to which he belonged, ever conquered in battle? This\nquestion made Friday to smile, and to which he answered, _Yes, yes, we\nalways fight the better;_ as much as to say, they always got the better\nin fight. Upon which we proceeded on the following discourse: _You say_,\nsaid I, _that you always fight the better; why, then, Friday, how came\nyou to be taken prisoner_?\nFriday. _But for all that my nation beat much_.\nMaster. _How say you, beat? if your nation beat them, how came you to be\ntaken_?\nFriday. _They more many mans than my nation in the place where me was;\nthey take one, two, three, and me: my nation much over beat them in the\nyonder place where me no was, there my nation mans beat one, two, three,\ngreat tousand_.\nMaster. _Then why did not your men recover you from the hands of your\nenemies?_\nFriday. _They run one, two, or three, and me: they make all go in the\ncanoe; my nation have no canoe that time_--\nMaster. _'Tis very well, Friday; but what does your nation do with the\nprisoners they take? Do they carry them away and eat them as these\nhave done_?\nFriday. _Yes, yes, my nation eat mans too, eat up all_.\nMaster. _To what place do they carry them to be devoured_?\nFriday. _Go to other nations where they think_.\nMaster. _Do they bring them hither_?\nFriday. _Yes, come over hither, came over other place_.\nMaster. _And have you been with them here, Friday_?\nFriday. _Yes, me been here_, (pointing to the north-west of the island,\nbeing the side where they used to land.)\nThus having gotten what account I could from my man, I plainly\nunderstood that he had been as bad as any of the rest of the cannibals,\nhaving been formerly among the savages who used to come on shore on the\nfarthest part of the island, upon the same bloody occasion as he was\nbrought hither for; and some time after I carried him to that place\nwhere he pointed; and no sooner did he come there, but he presently knew\nthe ground, signifying to me that he was once there when they ate up\ntwenty men, two women and a young child; but as he could not explain the\nnumber in English, he did it by so many stones in a row, making a sign\nto me to count them.\nThis passage I have the rather mentioned, because it led to things more\nimportant and useful for me to know; for after I had this satisfactory\ndiscourse with him, my next question was, how far it was from the island\nto the shore, and whether the canoes were not often lost in the ocean?\nto which he answered, _there was no danger, that no canoes were ever\nlost; but that after a little way out to the sea, there was a strong\ncurrent and a wind always one way in the afternoon_. This I thought at\nfirst to be no more than the sets of the tide, of going out or coming\nin; but I afterwards understood it was occasioned by the great-draught\nand reflux of the mighty river Oroonoko, in the mouth or gulf of which I\nimagined my kingdom lay: and that the land which I perceived to the W.\nand N.W. must be the great island Trinidad, on the north of the river. A\nthousand questions (if that would satisfy me) did I ask Friday about the\nnature of the country, the sea, the coasts, the inhabitants, and what\nnations were nearest them: To which questions the poor fellow declared\nall he knew with the greatest openness & utmost sincerity. When I\ndemanded of him the particular names of the various nations of his sort\nof people, he could only answer me in general that they were called\n_Carrabee_. Hence it was I considered that these must be the Carribees,\nso much taken notice of by our maps to be on that part of America, which\nreaches from the mouth of the river Oroonoko to Guiana, and so on to St.\nMartha. Then Friday proceeded to tell me, _that up a great way beyond\nthe moon_, as much as to say, beyond the setting of the moon, which must\nbe W. from their country, _there dwelt white-bearded men, such as I\nwas_, pointing to my whiskers, _and that they kill much mans_. I was not\nignorant with what barbarity the Spaniards treated these creatures; so\nthat I presently concluded it must be them, whose cruelties had spread\nthroughout America, to be remembered even to succeeding generations.\nWell, you may be sure, this knowledge, which the imperfect knowledge of\nmy man had led me to, was very comfortable to me, and made me so curious\nas to ask him how I might depart from this island, & get amongst those\nwhite men? He told me, _Yes, yes, I might go in two canoes_. In two\ncanoes, thought I, what does my man mean? surely he means one for\nhimself, and another for me; and if not, how must two canoes hold me\nwithout being joined, or one part of my body being put in one, and\nanother in another? And indeed it was a long time before I understood\nhis meaning; which was, that it must be a large boat, as big as two\ncanoes, able to bear with the waves, and not so liable to be overwhelmed\nas a small one must be.\nI believe there is not a state of life but what may be happy, if people\nwould but endeavour for their part to make it so. He is not the\nhappiest man that has the most riches; but he that is content with what\nhe hath. Before I had my servant, I thought myself miserable till I had\nhim; and now that I had enjoyed the happy benefits of him, I still\ncomplained, and begged a deliverance from a place of retirement, ease,\nand plenty, where Providence had sufficiently blessed me. In a word,\nfrom this time I entertained some hopes, that one time or other I might\nfind an opportunity to make my escape from this island, and that this\npoor savage might be a great furtherance thereto.\nAll the time since my man became so intelligent as to understand and\nspeak to me, I spared no pain nor diligence to instruct him, according\nto my poor share of knowledge in the principles of religion, and the\nadoration that he ought to pay to the TRUE GOD. One time, as I very well\nremember, I asked him who made him? At first the innocent creature did\nnot understand what I meant, but rather thought I asked him who was his\nfather? upon which I took another way to make him sensible, by demanding\nfrom him an answer to this question. \"Friday,\" I said, \"who is it that\nmade the sea, this ground whereon we walk, and all the hills and woods\nwhich we behold?\" And here, indeed, I did not miss my intention; for he\ntold me _it was Old Benamuckee_ (the God whom I supposed these savages\nadored) _who lived a great way beyond all_. But as to his attributes,\npoor Friday was an utter stranger. He could describe nothing of this\ngreat person; and all that he could say was, _that he was very old, much\nolder than the sea and land, the moon, or the stars_. \"Friday,\" said I\nagain, \"if this great and old person has made all things in the world,\nhow comes it to pass, that all things, as you in particular, do not\nadore and worship him? upon this looking very grave, with a perfect\nsweet look of innocence, he replied: _Master all things say O to him_,\"\nby which it may reasonably be supposed he meant adoration. \"And where,\"\nsaid I, \"do the people of your country go when they die?\" He answered\n_to Benamuckee_. \"What, and those people that are eaten up, do they go\nthere?\" _Benamuckee_, said he, _love 'em dearly; me pray to Benamuckee\nin the canoe, and Benamuckee would love me when dey eat me all up_.\nSuch discourses as these had I with my man, and such made me sensible,\nthat the true God is worshipped, tho' under imperfect similitudes; and\nthat the false adoration which the Heathens give to their imaginary\nDeity, is as great an argument of the divine essence, as the most\nlearned Atheists _(falsely so called)_ can bring against it; for God\nwill be glorified in his works, let their denominations be what it will;\nand I cannot be of that opinion which some conceive, that God should\ndecree men to be damned for want of a right notion of faith, in a place\nwhere the wisdom of the Almighty has not permitted it to be preached;\nand therefore cannot but conclude, that since obedience is the best\nsacrifice, these poor creatures are acting by that light and knowledge\nwhich they are possessed of, may undoubtedly obtain a happy salvation,\nthough not that enjoyment with Christ, as his saints, confessors, and\nmartyrs must enjoy.\nBut laying these determinations aside, more fit for divines than me to\ndiscuss, I began to instruct my servant in the saving knowledge of the\ntrue Deity, in which the direction of God's Holy Spirit assisted me. I\nlifted up my hands to Heaven, and pointing thereto, told him \"that the\ngreat Maker of Heaven and Earth lived there; that as his infinite power\nfashioned this world out of a confused chaos, and made it in that\nbeautiful frame which we behold; so he governs and preserves it by his\nunbounded knowledge, sovereign greatness and peculiar providence; that\nhe was omnipotent, could do every thing for us, give every thing to us,\nand take every thing away from us; that he was a rewarder and punisher\nof good, and evil actions; that there was nothing but what he knew, no\nthoughts so secret, but what he could bring to light;\" and thus, by\ndegrees, I opened his eyes, and described to him \"the manner of the\ncreation of the world, the situation of paradise, the transgression of\nour first parents, the wickedness of God's peculiar people, and the\nuniversal sins and abominations of the whole earth.\" When these things\nwere implanted in his mind, I told him \"that as God's justice was equal\nto his mercy, he resolved to destroy this world, till his Son Jesus\nChrist interposed in our behalf; and to procure our redemption, obtained\nleave of his heavenly Father to come down from Heaven into the world,\nWhere he took human nature upon him, instructed us in our way to eternal\nlife, and died as a sacrifice for our sins; that he was now ascended\ninto Heaven, mediating for our pardon, delivering our petitions, and\nobtaining all those good benefits which we ask in his name, by humble\nand hearty prayers, all which were heard at the throne of Heaven.\" As\nfrequently I used to inculcate things into his mind. Friday one day told\nme, _that if our great God could hear us beyond the sun, he must surely\nbe a greater God than their Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off,\nyet could not hear them till they ascended the great mountains, where he\ndwelt to speak to him._ 'What' said I, 'Friday, did you go thither to\nspeak to him too?' He answered, _No, they never went that were young\nmen, none but old men, called their Oowakakee_, meaning the Indian\npriests, _who went to say O,_ (so he called saying their prayers) _and\nthey returned back, and told them what Benamuckee said._ From hence, I\ncould not but observe how happy we Christians are, who have God's\nimmediate revelation for our certain guide; and that our faith is\nneither misled, nor our reason imposed upon, by any set of men,\nsuch as these Indian impostures.\nBut to clear up this palpable cheat to my man Friday, I told\nhim, \"that the pretence of their ancient men going up to\nthe mountain to say O to their God _Benamuckee_ was an imposture,\nand that their bringing back an answer was all a sham, if\nnot worse; for that, if there was any such thing spoken to them,\nsurely it must proceed from an infernal spirit.\" And here I\nthought it necessary to enter into a long discourse with him,\nwhich I did after this manner.\n\"Friday,\" said I, \"you must know, that before the world\nwas made, there was an Almighty power existing, by whose\npower all things were made, and whose Majesty shall have no\nend. To be glorified and adored by beings of a heavenly nature,\nhe created angels and archangels, that is glorified spirits\nresembling himself, to encompass his throne, eternally singing\nforth his praise in the most heavenly sounds and divine harmony.\nAnd, among this heavenly choir, Lucifer bore a great sway, as being\nthen one of the peculiar favourites of these celestial abodes;\nbut he, contrary to that duty he owed his heavenly Sovereign,\nwith unbounded ingratitude to his Divine Creator, not only\nenvied him that adoration which was his due, but thought to\nusurp that throne, which he had neither power to keep, nor\ntitle to pretend to. He raised a dissention and civil war in\nHeaven, and had a number of angels to take his part. Unbounded\nfolly! stupendous pride! to hope for victory, and aspire\nabove his powerful Creator! The Deity, not fearful of such\nan enemy, yet justly provoked at this rebellion, commissioned\nhis archangel Michael to lead forth the heavenly host, and give\nhim battle; the advantage of which was quickly perceived,\nby Satan's being overthrown, and the prince of the air, for so\nwas the devil called, with all his fallen angels, driven headlong\ninto a dismal place, which is called _Hell_.\"\nThe recital of this truth made my man give the greatest attention,\nand he expressed a great satisfaction by his gestures, that God\nhad sent the devil into a deep hole. And then I desired him to\ngive great heed to what I had further to say.\n\"No sooner,\" proceeded I, \"was God freed from, and the Heaven clear\nof this arch-traitor, but the Father speaks to the Son and Holy\nSpirit, who belonged to his essence, and were equal to him in power\nand glory, _Come let us make man_, said he _in our own image, after\nour own likeness_, Gen. i. 26. to have dominion over the creatures\nof the world which we have created. And these he intended should\nglorify him in Heaven, according to their obedience in this state of\nprobation on earth, which was, as it were, to be the school to train\nthem up for these heavenly mansions. Now, Satan seeing himself foiled;\nyet that God had taken the power from him as prince of the air, which\npower Heaven designed he should retain, whereby his creatures might\nbe tried; in revenge for the disgrace he had received, he tempts\nAdam's wife, Eve, to taste of the tree of knowledge of good and\nevil, which God had forbidden. He appears to her in the shape of a\nserpent, then a most beautiful creature, and tells her that it was no\nbetter than an imposition, which God had put upon her and her husband\nnot to eat of that fair fruit which he had created; that the taste\nthereof would make them immortal like God himself; and consequently as\ngreat and powerful as he. Upon which she not only eat thereof herself,\nbut made her husband eat also, which brought them both under the\nheavenly displeasure.\"\nHere Friday expressed a great concern: _Ah, poor mans!_ cried he,\n_naughty womans! naughty devil! make God not love de mans, made mans\nlike devil himself._\n'Friday,' said I, 'God still loved mankind, and though the devil tempted\nhuman nature so far, he would not suffer him to have an absolute power\nover them. I have told you before of his tender love to his people, till\nthey, like Lucifer, disobeyed his commands and rebelled against him; and\neven then, how Jesus Christ, his only Son, came to save sinners. But\nstill every man that lives in the world is under temptation and trial.\nThe devil has yet a power, as prince of the air, to suggest evil\ncogitations in our minds, and prompt us on to wicked actions, that he\nmight glory in our destruction. Whatever evil thoughts we have, proceed\nfrom him; so that God in this our distress, expects we should apply\nourselves to him by fervent prayer for speedy redress. He is not like\n_Benamuckee,_ to let none come near him but _Oowakakee_, but suffers the\npeople as well as priests to offer themselves at his feet, thereby to be\ndelivered from the power and temptation of the devil.\nBut though at first my man Friday expressed some concern at the\nwickedness of Lucifer, I found it not so easy to imprint the right\nnotions of him in his mind, as it was about the divine essence of God;\nfor there nature assisted me in all my arguments, to show him plainly\nthe necessity of a great first cause, and over-ruling, governing power,\nof a secret directing Providence, and of the equity and reasonableness\nof paying adoration to our Creator: whereas there appeared nothing of\nall this in the notion of an evil spirit, of his first beginning, his\nnature, and, above all, of his inclination to evil actions, and his\npower to tempt us to the like. And indeed this unlearned _Indian_, by\nthe mere force of nature, puzzled me with one particular question, more\nthan ever I could have expected.\nI had, it seems, one day, been talking to him of the omnipotent power of\nGod, and his infinite abhorrence of sin, insomuch that the Scriptures\nstyled him _a consuming fire_ to all the workers of iniquity; and that\nit was in his power, whenever he pleased, to destroy all the world in a\nmoment, the greater part of which are continually offending him.\nWhen, with a serious attention, he had listened a great while to what\nI said, after I had been telling him how the devil was God's enemy in\nthe hearts of men, and used all his malice and skill to defeat the good\ndesigns of Providence, and destroy the kingdom of Christ in the world,\nand so forth: _Very well, Master_, said Friday, _you say God is so\nstrong, so great, is he not much strong, much mightier than the naughty\ndevil?_ \"To be sure, Friday,\" said I, \"God is more wise and stronger\nthan the serpent: he is above the devil, which makes us pray to him,\nthat he would tread down Satan under his feet, enable us to resist the\nviolent temptations; and quench his fiery darts.\" _Why then_, answered\nFriday quickly, _if God, as you say, has much strong, much might as the\ndevil, why God no kill devil, make no more tempt, no more do wicked._\nYou may be certain, I was strangely surprised at this question of my\nman's: and, though an old man, I was but a young doctor, and\nconsequently very ill qualified for a causuist, or a resolver of\nintricate doubts in religion, and as it required some time for me to\nstudy for an answer, I pretended not to hear him, nor to ask him what he\nsaid; but, to so earnest was he for an answer, as not to forget his\nquestion which he repeated in the very same broken words as above. When\nI had recovered myself a little, \"Friday,\" said I, \"God will at last\npunish him severely, being reserved for judgment, and is to be cast into\nthe bottomless pit, to remain in fire everlasting.\" But all this did not\nsatisfy Friday, for, returning upon me, he repeated my words \"RESERVE AT\nLAST, _me no understand; but, why not kill devil now, not kill devil,\ngreat, great while ago_?\" \"Friday\" said I \"you may as well ask me why\nGod does not kill you and me, when, by our wicked actions, we so much\noffend his divine Majesty? He gives us time to repent of our sins, that\nthereby we may obtain pardon.\" At these words _obtain pardon_, Friday\nmused a great while; and, at last, looking me stedfastly in the face,\n_Well, well_, said he, _that's very well; so you, I, devil, all wicked\nmans, all preserve, repent, God pardon all._\nIndeed, here I was ran down to the last extremity, when it became very\nevident to me; how mere natural notions will guide reasonable creatures\nto the knowledge of a Deity, and to the homage due to the Supreme Being\nof God; but, however, nothing but divine revelation can form the\nknowledge of Jesus Christ, and of a redemption purchased for us, of the\nmediator of the new covenant, and of an intercessor at the footstool of\nGod's throne; and, therefore, the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus\nChrist; that is, the word and Spirit of God, promised for the guide and\nthe sanctifier of his people, are the most necessary instructors of the\nsouls of men, in the saving knowledge of the Almighty, and the means to\nattain eternal happiness.\nAnd now I found it necessary to put an end to this discourse between my\nman and me; for which purpose I rose up hastily, and made as if I had\nsome occasion to go out, sending Friday for something that was a good\nway off, I then fell on my knees, and beseeched God that he would\ninspire me so far as to guide this poor savage in the knowledge of\nChrist, to answer his questions more clearly, that his conscience might\nbe convinced, his eyes opened, and his soul saved. When he returned\nagain, I entered into a very long discourse with him, upon the subject\nof the world's redemption by the Saviour of it, and the doctrine of\nrepentance preached from heaven, together with an holy faith of our\nblessed Redeemer Jesus Christ; and then I proceeded to explain to him,\naccording to my weak capacity, the reason why our Saviour took not on\nhim the nature of angels, but rather the seed of Abraham; and how the\nfallen angels had no benefit by that redemption; and, lastly, that he\ncame only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, and the like. God\nknows I had more sincerity than knowledge in all the ways I took for the\npoor Indian's instruction; and, I must acknowledge what I believe, every\nbody that acts upon the same principle will find, that in laying\nheavenly truths open before him, I informed and instructed myself in\nmany things that either I did not know, or had not perfectly considered\nbefore: so that, however, this poor creature might be improved by my\ninstructions, certain it is, that I myself had great reason to be\nthankful to Providence for sending him to me. His company allayed my\ngrief, and made my habitation comfortable; and when I reflected that the\nsolitary life to which I had been so long confined, had made me to look\nfurther towards Heaven, by making me the instrument under Providence, to\nsave the life, and for ought I know, the soul of this poor savage, by\nbringing him to the knowledge of Jesus Christ, it caused a secret joy to\nspread through every part of my soul; and I frequently rejoiced, that\never I was brought to this place, which I once thought the most\nmiserable part of the world.\nIn this thankful frame of mind did I afterwards continue, while I abode\non the island, and for three years did my man and I live in the greatest\nenjoyment of happiness. Indeed, I believe the savage was as good a\nChristian as I; and I hope we were equally penitent; and such penitents\nas were comforted and restored by God's Holy Spirit; for now we had the\nword of the Lord to instruct us in the right way, as much as if we had\nbeen on the English shore.\nBy the constant application I made to the Scriptures, as I read them to\nmy man Friday, I earnestly endeavoured to make him understand every part\nof it, as much as lay in my power. He also, on the other hand, by his\nvery serious questions and inquiries, made me a much better proficient\nin Scripture knowledge, than I should have been by my own private\nreading and study. I must not omit another thing, proceeding from the\nexperience I had in my retirement: It was that infinite and\ninexpressible blessing, the knowledge of God through Jesus Christ, which\nwas so plain and easy to be understood, as immediately to direct me to\ncarry on the great work of sincere repentance for my sins, and laying\nhold of a Saviour for eternal life, to a practical stated reformation,\nand obedience to all God's institutions, without the assistance of a\nreverend and orthodox divine; and especially by this same instruction,\nso to enlighten this savage creature, as to make him so good a\nChristian, as very few could exceed him. And there was only this great\nthing wanting, that I had no authority to administer the Holy Sacrament,\nthat heavenly participation of Christ's body and blood; yet, however, we\nrested ourselves content; that God would accept our desires, and\naccording to our faith, have mercy on us.\nBut what we wanted one way, was made up in another, and that was\nuniversal peace in our little church. We had no disputes and wrangling\nabout the nature and equality of the holy, blessed, and undivided\nTrinity, no niceties in doctrine, or schemes of church government; no\nsour or morale dissenters to impose more sublimated notions upon us; no\npedant sophisters to confound us with unintelligible mysteries: but,\ninstead of all this, we enjoyed the most certain guide to Heaven; that\nis, the word of God: besides which, we had the comfortable views of his\nSpirit leading us to the truth, and making us both willing and obedient\nto the instruction of his word. As the knowledge and practice of this\nare the principal means of salvation, I cannot see what it avails any\nchristian church, or man in the world, to amuse himself with\nspeculations and opinions, except it be to display their particular\nvanity and affectation.\nYou may well suppose, that, by the frequent discourse we had together,\nmy man and I became most intimately acquainted, and that their was but\nvery little that I could say, but what Friday understood; and, indeed,\nhe spoke very fluently, though it was but broken English. I now took a\nparticular pleasure in relating all my adventures, especially those that\noccurred since my being cast on this island. I made him understand that\nwonderful mystery, as he conceived, of gunpowder and bullet, and taught\nhim how to shoot. I also presented to him a knife, which pleased him\nexceedingly, making him a belt, with a frog hanging thereto, like those\nin which we wear hangers in England; and, instead of a hanger to put in\nthe frog, I gave him a hatchet, which was not only as good, but even a\nbetter weapon upon many occasions. In a word, my man thus accoutred,\nlooked upon himself as great as Don Quixote, when that celebrated\nchampion went to combat the windmill.\nI next gave him a very particular description of the territories of\nEurope, and in a particular manner of Old England, the place of my\nnativity. I laid, before him the manner of our worshipping God, our\nbehaviour one to another, and how we trade in ships to every part of the\nuniverse. I then told him my misfortunes in being shipwrecked, showing\nhim, as near as I could the place where the ship lay, which had been\ngone long before; but I brought him to the ruins of my boat which before\nmy whole strength could not move, but now was a most rotten, and fallen\nto pieces. I observed my man Friday to view this boat with uncommon\ncuriosity; which, when he had done, he stood pondering a great while,\nand said nothing. At last, said I, \"Friday, what makes you ponder so\nmuch?\" He replied, _O master, me see like boat come to place at\nmy nation_.\nIt was some time, indeed, before I understood what my man meant; but\nexamining strictly into it, I plainly found, that such another boat\nresembling mine, had come up on the country where he dwelt: that is to\nsay, by his farther explanation, that the boat was driven there through\nstress of weather. It then came into my mind that some European ship\nhaving been cast away, the poor distressed creatures were forced to have\nrecourse to the boat to save their lives; and being all, as I thought\ndrowned, I never concerned my self to ask any thing concerning, them,\nbut my only inquiry was about the boat, and what description my man\ncould give of it.\nIndeed Friday answered my demands very well; making everything very\nplain to my understanding: but beyond measure was I satisfied, when he\ntold me with great warmth and ardour. _O master, we save white mans from\ndrown;_ upon which I immediately asked him, If there were any white\nmans, as he called them in the boat? _Yes, yes_, said he, _the boat\nfull, very full of white mans_ \"How many, Friday?\" said I. Hereupon he\nnumbered his fingers, and counted seventeen. And when I asked him what\nbecame of them all, and whether they lived or not? he replied, _Yes\nmaster, they all live, they be live among my nation._ This information\nput fresh thoughts into my head, that these must be those very men who\nbefore I concluded had been swallowed up in the ocean, after they had\nleft the ship that had struck upon the rocks of my kingdom, and after\nescaping the fury of the deep, landed upon the wild shore, and committed\nthemselves to the fury of the devouring Indians.\nThe manner of their cruelties to one another, which consequently, as I\nthought, must be acted with greater barbarity to strangers, created in\nme a great anxiety, and made me still more curious to ask Friday\nconcerning them. He told me, he was sure they still lived there, having\nresided among them above four years, and that the savages gave them\nvictuals to live upon: \"But pray, Friday,\" said I, \"whence proceeded all\nthis good nature and generosity? How came it to pass that they did not\nkill and eat them, to please their devouring appetites, and occasion to\nsplendid an entertainment among them?\" _No, no,_ said Friday, _they not\nkilt 'em, they make brothers with 'em_; by which I understood there was\na truce between them. And then I had a more favourable opinion of the\nIndians, upon Friday uttering these words, _My nation, t'other nation no\neat man, but when mans, make war fight:_ as though he had said, that\nneither those of his kingdom, nor any other nations that he knew of,\never ate their fellow-creatures, but such as their law of arms allowed\nto be devoured; that is, those miserable captives, whose misfortune it\nshould be to be made prisoners of war.\nSome considerable time after, upon a very pleasant day, in most serene\nweather, my man and I stood upon the top of a hill, on the east side of\nthe island, whence I had once before beheld the continent of America. I\ncould not tell immediately what was the matter, for suddenly Friday fell\na jumping and dancing as if he had been mad, and upon my demanding the\nreason of his behaviour, _O joy_! said he, _O glad! there see my\ncountry, there my nation, there live white mans gether_. And indeed such\na rapturous sense of pleasure appeared in his countenance that his eyes\nhad an uncommon sparkling and brightness, and such a strange eagerness,\nas if he had a longing desire to be in his country again. This made me\nno so well satisfied with my man Friday as before; for by this\nappearance, I made no dispute, but that if he could get back thither\nagain, he would not only be unmindful of what religion I had taught him,\nbut likewise of the great obligation he owed me for his wonderful\ndeliverance; nay, that he would not only inform his countrymen of me,\nbut accompany hundreds of them to my kingdom, and make me a miserable\nsacrifice like those unhappy wretches taken in battle.\nIndeed I was very much to blame to have those cruel and unjust\nsuspicions, and must freely own I wronged the poor creature very much,\nwho was of a quite contrary temper. And had he had that discerning\nacuteness which many Europeans have, he would certainly have perceived\nmy coldness and indifference, and also have been very much concerned\nupon that account; as I was now more circumspect, I had much lessened my\nkindness and familiarity with him, and while this jealousy continued, I\nused that artful way (now to much in fashion, the occasion of strife and\ndissention) of pumping him daily thereby to discover whether he was\ndeceitful in his thoughts and inclinations; but certainly he had nothing\nin him but what was consistent with the best principles, both as a\nreligious Christian and a grateful friend; and indeed; I found every\nthing he said was ingenuous and innocent, that I had no room for\nsuspicion, and, in spite of all uneasiness, he not only made me entirely\nhis own again, but also caused me much to lament that I ever conceived\none ill thought of him.\nAs we were walking up the same hill another day, when the weather was\nso hazy at sea, that I could not perceive the continent, \"Friday,\" said\nI \"don't you wish yourself to be in your own country, your nation, among\nyour old friends and acquaintances?\" _Yes,_ said he, _me much O glad to\nbe at my own nation._ \"And what would you do there, Friday? Would you\nturn wild again, eat man's flesh, and be a savage as you were formerly.\"\n_No, no,_ (answered he, full of concern and making his head) _Friday now\ntell them to live good, tell them pray God, tell them to eat corn bread,\ncattle flesh, milk, no eat man again._ \"But surely,\" replied I, \"if you\nshould offer to do all this, they will kill you; and to manifest their\ncontempt of such instruction eat you up when they have done.\" He then\nput on a grave, yet innocent and smooth countenance, saying, _No, they\nno kill me, they willing love learn_: that is that they would be very\nwilling to learn: adding withal, _that they had learned much of the\nbearded mans that came in the boat_. \"Will you,\" said I \"go back again,\nFriday?\" He smiled at that, and told me, that he could not swim so far.\nBut said I, I will make a canoe for you. _Yes, Master_ said he, _me go\nif you go, me no go if you stay_. \"I go, Friday! why would you have them\nto eat me up, and devour your kind master?\" _No no_, said he, _me make\nthem not eat master, and me make them much love you_; that is, he would\ntell them how I had slain his enemies, and thereby saved his life, for\nwhich reason he would make them love me: and then he related to me, as\nwell as he was able, how exceedingly kind those his nation were to the\nwhite, or bearded men, as he called them, who, in their great calamity,\nwere driven into their country.\nIt was from this time, indeed, I had strong inclinations to venture\nover, and use my utmost efforts, if possible, to join these white\nbearded men, who undoubtedly were Spaniards or Portuguese; for, thought\nI, it must be certainly a better and safer way to escape when there is a\ngood company, than for me alone, from an island forty miles off the\nshore, and without any assistance. Some days, after, Friday and I being\nat work, as usual, at the same time diverting ourselves with various\ndiscourses; I told him I had a boat which I would bestow upon him,\nwhenever he pleased to return to his own nation; and to convince him of\nthe truth of what I said, I took him with me to the other side of the\nisland, where my frigate lay, and then taking it from under the water,\n(for I always kept it sunk for fear of a discovery) we went both into it\nto see how it would manage such an expedition.\nAnd really never could any be more dexterous in rowing than my faithful\nservant, making the boat go as fast again as I could. \"Well now,\nFriday\", said I, \"shall we now go to your so much admired nation.\" But\ninstead of meeting with that cheerfulness I expected, he looked very\ndull and melancholy at my saying so; which indeed at first surprised\nme, till he made me sensible, that his concern was about the boat's\nbeing too small to go so far a voyage. Upon which I let him understand I\nhad a much bigger; and accordingly, the next day went to the place where\nthe first boat lay, which I had made, when all the strength I had or art\nI could use failed me in my attempt to get it into the water: but now it\nhaving lain in the sun two and twenty years, and no care being taken of\nit all that while, it became in a manner rotten. My man told me, that\nsuch a boat would do very well for the purpose, sufficient to carry\n_enough vittle, drink, bread_, for that was his manner of talking. In\nshort, my mind being strongly fixed upon my design of going over with\nhim to the Continent, I very plainly told him that we would both go and\nmake a boat full as big, and more proportionable than that, wherein he\nmight safely return to his own nation.\nThese words made Friday look so very pensive that I thought he would\nhave fallen at my feet. It was some time before he could speak a word,\nwhich made me ask him, what was the matter with him? He replied in a\nvery soft and moving tone, _What has poor Friday done? why are you angry\nmad with poor servant? What me done, O what me done?_ \"Friday,\" said I,\n\"you never yet have offended me, what makes you think I am angry with\nyou, when I am not angry at all.\" _You no angry, no angry,_ said he\nseveral times, _if you be no angry, why den send Friday over great water\nto my own nation?_ \"Why from a mountain you beheld the place where you\nwas born, and is it not to satisfy your desires that I am willing to\ngive you leave to return thither?\" _Yes, yes_, said Friday, _me wish to\nbe there sure enough, but then me with master there too: no wish Friday\nthere, no master there._ In short, he could not endure the thoughts of\ngoing there without me. \"I go there! Friday,\" said I, \"what shall I do\nthere?\" He answered very quickly, _O master you do great deal much good,\nyou teach all de wild mans to be good tame mans: you learn dem to be\nsober, life good live, to know God, and pray God._ \"Alas! poor Friday,\"\nsaid I, \"what can I do against their priests of _Benamuckee_, or indeed\nwhat good can I make your nation sensible of, when I myself am but a\npoor ignorant man?\" _No, no, master,_ said he, _you be no ignorant, you\nteachee me good, you teachee dem good._ \"You shall go without me,\nFriday,\" said I, \"for I don't care to accompany you thither; I would\nrather live in this solitude than venture among such inhuman savages.\n_Go your way since you desire it, and leave me alone by myself as I was\nbefore I saved your life_.\"\nNever was any creature more thunderstruck than Friday was at these\nwords. _Go me away, leave master away, (said he after a long silence,)\nno, no, Friday die, Friday live not master gone_, as though he had\nsaid, I neither can nor will live, if my master sends me from him. And\nhere I cannot but take notice of the strong ties of friendship, which\nmany times surpass those of consanguinity: For often we find a great\ndisagreement among kindred; and when there is any seeming regard for\neach other, it is very seldom true, and scarce ever lasting, if powerful\ninterest does not bear the sway; and that alone is often the occasion of\nthe greatest hatred in the world, which is to desire the death of\nparents and relations, for the sake of acquiring their fortunes. But\nthere was no such thing between my servant and me; instead of which\nthere was the greatest gratitude and the most sincere love; he found me\nnot only his deliverer, but his preserver and comforter; not a severe\nand cruel tyrant, but a kind, loving, and affable friend. He wanted for\nno manner of sustenance; and when he was ill or out of order, I was his\nphysician, not only for his body but his soul; and therefore no wonder\nwas it, that such an innocent creature long since divested of his former\nnatural cruelty, should have an uncommon concern at so cruel a\nseperation from me, which pierced him to the very soul, and made him\ndesire even to die, rather than live without me..\nAfter I had told Friday, in a very careless manner, that he should be at\nhis liberty as soon as the boat was made, the language of his eyes\nexpressed all imaginable confusion; when, immediately running to one of\nhis hatchets, which he used to wear as a defensive weapon, he gives it\ninto my hand, with a heart so full, that he could scarcely speak.\n'Friday,' said I, 'what is it you mean? What must I do with this?' _Only\nkill Friday_, said he, _Friday care not live long._' 'But what must I\nkill you for? replied I again, _Ah! dear master, what made you Friday\nsave from eat a me up, so keep long Friday, make Friday love God, and\nlove not Benamuckee, and now Friday send away; never see Friday more._\nAs though the poor creature had said, Alas! my dearest kind master, how\ncomes it to pass, that after having ventured your precious life to save\nme from the jaws of devouring cannibals, like myself, after such a\ntender regard to provide for me such a comfortable nourishment, and\ncontinuing so long a kind master, and a most sincere friend; and after\nmaking me forsake the false notion of an Indian Deity, and worship the\ntrue God in spirit and in truth; and after all this how comes it now,\nthat you are willing to send me away to my former course of living, by\nwhich means undoubtedly we shall be dead to each other; but greater must\nbe my misfortune, that I shall never behold my best friend I have in the\nworld any more. And this undoubtedly, though he could not express\nhimself so clearly, must be his sentiments; for the tears ran down his\ncheeks in such a plentiful manner, that I had much ado to refrain from\nweeping also, when I beheld the poor creature's affection; so that I was\nforced to comfort him in the best manner I could, which I did, by\ntelling him, if he was content to abide with me, I should be ever\nwilling to keep him.\nAfter Friday's grief was something abated, more fully to convince me of\nhis affection, he said, _O master, me not care to be in my nation, leave\nyou here; me desire nation learn good, that's all;_ meaning, that his\ndesire was for the conversion of that barbarous people. But as I had no\napostolic mission, nor any concern about their salvation; so I had not\nthe least intention or desire of undertaking it; and the strength of my\ninclination, in order to escape, proceeded chiefly from my late\ndiscourse with Friday, about these seventeen white bearded men, that had\nbeen driven upon the Barbarian coast; whom I designed to join, as the\nonly means to further our escape. To which intent my man and I went to\nsearch for a proper tree to fell, whereof we might make a large perigua\nor canoe, to undertake the voyage; and, indeed, we were not long in\nfinding one fit for our purpose, there being enough of wood in the\nisland to have built a fleet of large vessels, but the thing we\nprincipally wanted was to get one so near the water, that we might\nlaunch it after it was finished, and not commit so horrid a mistake as I\nhad once done before.\nWell, after a great search for what was best and most convenient,\nFriday, at last, whose judgment in such affairs was much superior to\nmine, pitches upon a kind of wood the most fitting for it. To this day I\ncannot tell the name of the tree, nor describe it any other way, than\nonly by saying, that it is like what we call _fustic_, or between that\nand the Niacaragua wood, being much of the same colour and smell. But\nthough my man exceeded me in the knowledge of the most proper tree, yet\nI shewed him a much better and clearer way to make a canoe than ever he\nknew before; for he was for burning the hollow or cavity of the tree, in\norder to make this boat; but I then told him how he might do it with\ntools, learning him at the same time how to use them, which indeed he\ndid very dexterously; so that in a month's time we finished it, making\nit very handsome, by cutting the outside in the true shape of a boat.\nAfter this it took us a full fortnight before we could get her into the\nwater, which we did as it were inch by inch, upon great rollers; but\nwhen she was in, she would have carried twenty men, with all the ease\nimaginable.\nAs I was very well pleased, you may be sure at the launching of this man\nof war of mine, I was no less amazed to behold with what dexterity my\nman would manage her, turn her, and paddle her along. 'Well Friday,'\nsaid I, 'what do you think of it now? Do you think this will carry us\nover? _Yes, master_, said he, _me venture over well, though great blow\nwind_. But my design was yet farther, which he was insensible of; and\nthat was to make a mast and a sail, and to provide her with an anchor\nand cable. As to a mast, that was no difficult thing at all to procure:\nso I fixed upon a strait young cedar-tree; which I found near the place,\ngreat plenty of it abounding in the island; and setting Friday to cut it\ndown, I gave him particular directions how to shape and order it; but as\nto the sail, that I managed myself. I very well knew I had some old\nones, or pieces of sails enough, which had lain six and twenty years by\nme; but not being careful to preserve them, as thinking I should have no\noccasion to use them any more, when I came to overlook them I found them\nalmost all rotten, except two; and with these I went to work, and after\na great deal of pains and aukward tedious stitching for want of needles,\nat length I finished a three-cornered ugly thing, like those which our\nlong boats use, and which I very well knew how to manage, especially\nsince it was like that which I had in my patron's fishing boat, when,\nwith my boy Xury, I made my escape from the Barbarian shore.\nIt was near two months, I think, before I completed this work, that is,\nthe rigging and fitting my mast and sails; and indeed they were nicely\ndone, having made a small stay and a sail, or a foresail to it, to\nassist, if we should turn to the westward; and what is still more, I\nfixed a rudder to the stern of her, to steer with; and though I was but\na very indifferent shipwright, yet, as I was sensible of the great\nusefulness and absolute necessity of a thing like this, I applied myself\nto it with such a confident application, that at last I accomplished my\ndesign; but what with the many dull contrivances I had about it, and the\nfailure of many things, it cost me as much pains in ordering as in\nmaking the boat. Besides when all this was done, I had my man to teach\nwhat belonged to its navigation; for though he very well understood how\nto paddle a canoe along, he was an utter stranger to a sail and a\nrudder, and was amazed when he saw me work the boat to and again in the\nsea, by them, and how the sail gibbed and filled this way or that way,\nas the course we sailed changed. After some time and a little use, I\nmade all these things very familiar to him, so that he became an expert\nsailor, except in relation to the compass, and that I could make him\nunderstand but little of. But, as it happened, there was seldom occasion\nfor it, there being but little cloudy weather, and scarce any fog in\nthose parts; the stars were always visible in the night, and the shore\nperspicuous by day, except in the rainy season, which confined every one\nto his habitation. Thus entered in the seven and twentieth year of my\nreign, or captivity, which you please, (the last three of which blessed\nwith the company of my man Friday, ought not to be reckoned) I kept the\nanniversary of my landing here with the same thankfulness to God, for\nhis tender mercies, as I did before; and certainly, as I had great\ncause for a thankful acknowledgement for my deliverance at first, I had\nmuch greater now for such singular and additional testimonies of the\ncare of Providence over me, in all my distress of both body and mind,\nand the great hopes I had of being effectually and speedily delivered;\nfor I had a strong impression upon my mind, that I should not be another\nyear in this island. But, however, I still continued on with my\nhusbandry, digging, planting, and fencing, as usual; gathering and\ncuring my grapes, and doing all other things that were necessary.\nAnd now the rainy season beginning to come on, obliged me to keep the\nlonger within doors; but before this I brought my new vessel into the\ncreek, where I had landed my rafts from the ship, and haling her up to\nthe shore, I ordered my man Friday to dig a dock sufficient to hold her\nin, and deep enough to give her water, wherein she might float; and then\nwhen the tide was out, we made a strong dam cross the end of it, to keep\nout the water; by which means she lay dry, as to the tide from the sea;\nand to keep the rain from her, we thatched her over, as it were, with\nboughs of trees, like a house, so we waited for the months of November\nand December, in which I designed to venture over the ocean.\nNo sooner did the seasonable weather begin to draw near, but so much was\nI elevated with this new designed adventure, that I daily prepared for\nthe voyage. The first thing I thought on was, to lay by a certain\nquantity of provisions, as a sufficient store for such an expedition,\nintending in a week or fortnight's time to open the dock, and to launch\nout the boat for that purpose. But one morning as I was very busy upon\nsomething necessary for this occasion, I called Friday to me, and bid\nhim go to the seashore, and see if he could find a turtle or tortoise, a\nthing which we commonly had once a week, as much upon account of the\neggs, as for the sake of the flesh. He had not been long gone, but he\ncame running back, as though he was pursued for life, and as if it were\nflew over my outer-wall, or fence, like one that felt not the ground, or\nsteps he set his feet on; and before I had time to enquire the reason of\nthis precipitation, he cries out, _O dear master, O sorrow, sorrow! Bad!\nO bad!_ 'Why, what's the matter Friday,' said I. _O yonder, yonder!_\nsaid he; _there be one, two, or three canoes! two three!_ Surely,\nthought I, there must be six, by my man's way of reckoning; but on a\nstricter inquiry, I found there were but three. 'Well Friday,' said I,\n'don't be terrified, I warrant you we will not only defend ourselves\nagainst them, but kill the most of these cruel savages.' But though I\ncomforted him in the best manner I could, the poor creature trembled so,\nthat I scarce knew what to do with him:--_O master_, said he, _they come\nlook Friday, cut pieces Friday, cut a me up_. 'Why Friday,' said I,\n'they will eat me up as well as you, and my danger is as great as\nyours. But since it is so, we must resolve to fight for our lives. What\nsay you? Can you fight Friday? _Yes,(said he, very faintly) me shoot, me\nkill what I can, but there come a great many number._'That's no matter,'\nsaid I again, 'our guns will terrify those that we do not kill: I am\nvery willing to stand by you to the last drop of my blood. Now tell me\nif you will do the like by me, and, obey my orders in whatsoever I\ncommand?' Friday then answered, _O master, me loses life for you, me die\nwhen you bid die._ Thus concluding all questions concerning his\nfidelity, immediately I fetched him a good dram of rum, (of which I had\nbeen a very good husband) and gave it him to comfort his heart. After he\nhad drank it, I ordered him to take the two-fowling pieces, which we\nalways carried, and load them with large swan-shot, as big as small\npistol bullets; then I took four muskets, and loaded them with two slugs\nand five small bullets each; charging my two pistols each with a brace;\nI hung my great sword, as customary, naked to my side, and gave Friday\nhis hatchet, as a most excellent weapon for defence.\nThus prepared, I thought as well of myself, as any knight errant that\never handled a sword and spear. I took my perspective glass and went up\nto the side of the hill, to see what I could discover; and I perceived\nvery soon, by my glass, that there were one and twenty savages, three\nprisoners, and three canoes, and that their chief concern seemed to be\nthe triumphant banquet upon the three poor human bodies, a thing which\nby this time I had observed was very common with them. I also remarked,\nthat they did not land at that place from whence Friday made his escape,\nbut nearer to the creek, where the shore was low, and where a thick wood\ncame very close to the sea. My soul was then filled with indignation and\nabhorrence at such inhuman wretches, which put a period to all my former\nthoughts in their vindication, neither would I give myself time to\nconsider their right of conquest, as I had done before: but descending\nfrom the mountain, I came down to Friday, and told him, I was resolved\nto go speedily to them, and kill them all; asking him again in the same\nbreath, if he would stand by me; when by this time being recovered from\nhis fright, and his spirits much cheered with the dram I had given him,\nhe was very pleasant, yet seriously telling me, as he did before, _When\nI bid die, he would die_.\nAnd now it was, having fixed my resolution in so strong a manner, that\nnothing could divest my breast of its uncommon fury. I immediately\ndivided the loaded arms betwixt us. To my man Friday I gave a pistol to\nstick in his girdle, with three guns upon his shoulder, a weight too\ngreat, I confess, to bear but what must a poor king do, who has but one\nsoldier in the world? But to show I made him bear no more than what I\nwould lay on myself, I stuck the other pistol in my girdle, and the\nother three guns upon my shoulders; nay, something more, but that was\nlike Aesop's burden, a small bottle of rum, which was soon lightened to\nour exceeding refreshment. Thus we marched out, under a ponderous load\nof armour, like two invincible champions, with a quantity of powder and\nbullets to stand our battle, and load again, when the pieces were\ndischarged. And now my orders being to be obeyed, I charged Friday to\nkeep close behind me, and not to stir, or shoot, or attempt anything\ntill I commanded him; and in the interim, not to speak so much as one\nword. It was in this order I fetched a compass to the right hand, of\nnear a mile, as well to get over the creek, as to attain the wood; and\nby this, I thought to come within shot of them before I could be\ndiscerned, as I found by my glass, would not be difficult to accomplish.\nBut how fickle and wavering is the mind of man, even in our greatest\nfury and strongest inclinations. For while I was taking this march, my\nresolution began to abate, not through fear of their numbers, who were a\nparcel of naked unarmed wretches, but those reflections occurred to my\nthoughts: _what power was I commissioned with, or what occasion or\nnecessity had I to go and imbrue my hands in human blood, and murder\npeople that had neither done nor intended to do me any wrong? They were\ninnocent in particular as to me: and their barbarous custom was not only\ntheir misfortune but a sign that God had left them in the most immense\nstupidity; but yet did not warrant me to be a judge of their actions,\nmuch less an executioner of his righteous judgments? That, on the\ncontrary, whenever he thought fit, he would take vengeance on them\nhimself, and punish them in a national way, according to their national\ncrimes; but this was nothing at all to me, who had no concern with them.\nIndeed my man Friday might justify himself, because they were his\ndeclared enemies, of that very same nation that went to sacrifice him\nbefore; and indeed it was lawful for him to attack them, which I could\nnot say was so with respect to me,_--So warmly did these things press\nupon my thoughts all the way I went, that I only resolved to place\nmyself so as to behold their bloody entertainment, without falling upon\nthem, except something more than ordinary, by God's special direction,\nshould oblige me thereto.\nThus fixed in my resolution, I entered into the thick wood, (my man\nFriday following me close behind) when with all possible wariness and\nsilence, I marched till I came close to the skirt of it, on that side\nwhich was the nearest to them; for only one end of the wood interposed\nbetween me and them. Upon which I called very softly to Friday, and\nshewing him a great tree, that was just at the corner of the wood, I\nordered him to repair thither, and bring me word, if he could plainly\nperceive their actions; accordingly he did as I commanded him, and came\nback with this melancholy story, _that they were all about their fire,\neating the flesh of one of their prisoners; and that another lay bound\nupon the sands at a little distance from them, which they designed for\nthe next sacrifice, and this, he told me was not one of their nation,\nbut one of those very bearded men, who were driven by a storm into their\ncountry, and of whom he had so often talked to me about_--You may be\nsure, that upon hearing this, my soul was ready to sink within me: when\nascending into a tree, I saw plainly, by my glass, a white man, who lay\nupon the beach of the sea, with his hands and feet tied with flags, or\nthings resembling rushes, being covered with clothes, and seemed to be\nan European. From the tree where I took this prospect I perceived\nanother tree and a thicket beyond it, about fifty yards nearer to them\nthan where I was, which, by taking a small circle round, I might come at\nundiscovered, & then I should be within half a shot of these devourers.\nAnd this consideration alone, to be more perfectly revenged upon them,\nmade me withhold my passion, though I was enraged to the highest degree\nimaginable; when going back about twenty paces I got behind some bushes,\nwhich held all the way till I came to the other tree; and then I\nascended to a little rising ground, not above eighteen yards distance,\nand there I had a full view of these creatures, and I could perceive all\ntheir actions.\nSuch a fight did then appear, as obliged me not to lose a moment's time.\nNo less than nineteen of these dreadful wretches sat upon the ground,\nclose huddled together, expressing all the delight imaginable at so\nbarbarous an entertainment; and they had just sent the other two to\nmurder this poor unhappy Christian, and bring him limb by limb to their\nfire; for they were then just going to untie the bands from his feet, in\norder for death, as fetters are knocked off the feet of malefactors\nbefore they go to the place of execution. Hereupon, immediately turning\nto my man, 'now, Friday' said I 'mind what I say, fail in nothing, but\ndo exactly as you see me do'. All which he promising--he would perform,\nI let down one of my muskets, and fowling-piece upon the ground, and\nFriday did the same by his; and with the other musket I took my aim at\nthe savages, bidding him do the like: 'Are you ready' said I: _Yes,\nMaster,_ said he; 'why then fire at them,' said I; and that very moment\nI gave fire likewise.\nI only killed one and wounded two; but my man Friday, taking his aim\nmuch better than I, killed two and wounded three. You may be sure they\nwere in a dreadful consternation, at, such an unexpected disaster, and\nthose who had yet escaped our penetrating shot, immediately jumped upon\ntheir feet, but were in such a confusion, that they knew not which way\nto run or look; not knowing from whence their destruction came. We threw\ndown our pieces, and took up others, giving a second dreadful volley;\nbut as they were loaded only with swan shot, or small pistol bullets, we\nperceived only two of them fall; tho many were wounded, who run yelling\nand screaming about like mad creatures. 'Now, Friday,' said I, 'lay down\nyour piece, and take up the musket, and follow me.' He did so, with\ngreat courage, when showing ourselves to the savages we give a great\nshout, and made directly to the poor victim, who would have been\nsacrificed, had not our first fire obliged the butchers, with three\nothers, to jump into a canoe. By my order, Friday fired at them, at\nwhich shot I thought he had killed them all, by reason of their falling\nto the bottom of the boat; however, he killed two, and mortally wounded\na third. In the mean time, I cut the flags that tied the hands and feet\nof the poor creature, and lifting him up asked him in the Portuguese\ntongue, _What he was?_ He answered me in Latin, _Christiantis;_ but so\nvery weak and faint, that he could scarce stand or speak. Immediately I\ngave him a dram; and a piece of bread to cherish him, and asked him,\nWhat countryman he was? He said, _Hispaniola;_ and then uttered all the\nthankfulness imaginable for his deliverance. 'Signior,' said I, with as\nmuch Spanish as I was master of, 'let us talk afterwards, but fight now;\nhere, take this sword and pistol, and do what you can.' And, indeed, he\ndid so with much courage and intrepidity, that he cut two of them to\npieces in an instant, the savages not having the power to fly for their\nlives. I ordered Friday to run for those pieces we had left at the tree,\nwhich he brought me with great swiftness, and then I gave him my musket,\nwhile I loaded the rest. But now their happened a fierce encounter\nbetween the Spaniard & one of the savages who had made at him with one\nof their wooden swords; and though the former was as brave as could be\nexpected, having twice wounded his enemy in the head, yet being weak &\nfaint, the Indian had thrown him upon the ground, & was wrestling my\nsword out of his hand, which the Spaniard very wisely quiting, drew out\nhis pistol, and shot him through the body before I could come near him,\nthough I was running to his assistance.' As to Friday, he pursued the\nflying wretches with his hatchet, dispatching three, but the rest were\ntoo nimble for him. The Spaniard taking one of the fowling pieces,\nwounded two, who running into the wood Friday pursued and killed; but\nthe other, notwithstanding his wounds, plunged himself into the sea &\nswam to those who were left in the canoe; which, with one wounded, were\nall that escaped out of one and twenty. The account is as follows.\n_Killed at first shot from the tree ..... 3\nDitto of those first wounded ............ 2\nKilled or died of their wounds .......... 4\nEscaped in the boat, whereof one wounded,\nThe savages in the canoe worked very hard to get out of our reach, and\nFriday was as eager in pursuing them; and indeed I was no less anxious\nabout their escape, lest after the news had been carried to their\npeople, they should return in multitudes and destroy us. So being\nresolved to pursue them, I jumped into one of the canoes and bid Friday\nfollow me; but no sooner was I in, than to my surprise, I found another\npoor creature bound hand and foot for the slaughter, just as the\nSpaniard had been, with very little life in him. Immediately I unbound\nhim, and would have helped him up; but he could neither stand nor speak,\nbut groaned so piteously, as thinking he was only unbound in order to be\nslain. Hereupon I bid Friday speak to him, and tell him of his\ndeliverance; when pulling out my bottle I made the poor wretch drink a\ndram; which, with the joyful news he had received, so revived his heart\nthat he sat up in the boat. As soon as Friday began to hear him speak,\nand look more fully in his face, it would have moved any one to tears to\nperceive his uncommon transports of joy; for he kissed, embraced him,\nhugged him, cried, laughed, hollooed, jumped about, danced, sung, then\ncried again, wrung his hands, beat his face and head, then sung and\njumped about again, like a distracted creature; so that it was a great\nwhile before I could make him speak to me, or tell me what was the\nmatter with him; but when he came to the liberty of his speech at last,\nhe told me it was his father.\nHere indeed I was infinitely moved to see that dutiful and tender\naffection this poor savage had to his aged parent. He would sit down by\nhim in the boat, open his breast and hold his father's head close to his\nbosom half an hour together to cherish him: then he took his arms &\nankles, which were stiff and numbed with binding, and chaffed and rubbed\nthem with his hands; by which means perceiving what the case was, I gave\nhim some rum, which proved of great benefit to him.\nWhile we were busy in this action the savages had gotten almost out of\nsight; and happy it was we did not pursue them: For there arose from the\nnorth-west, which continued all night long, such a violent storm that I\ncould not suppose otherwise but that they were all drowned. After this I\ncalled Friday to me, and asked him if he had given his father any bread?\nHe shook his head and said, _None, not one bit, me eat-a up all;_ so I\ngave him a cake of bread out of a little pouch I carried for this end. I\nlikewise gave him a dram for himself, & two or three bunches of raisins\nfor his father. Both these he carried to him, for he would make him\ndrink the dram to comfort him.\nAway then he runs out of the boat as if he was bewitched, with such an\nextraordinary swiftness, that he was out of sight as it were in an\ninstant; but at his return I perceived him slacken his pace, because he\nhad something in his hand. And this I found to be as he approached\nnearer, an earthen jug with some water for his father, with two more\ncakes of bread, which he delivered into my hands. Being very thirsty\nmyself I drank some of the water, of which his father had drank\nsufficiently, it more revived his spirits than all the rum I had\ngiven him.\nI then called Friday to me and ordered him to carry the Spaniard one of\nthe cakes and some water, who was reposing himself under a green place\nunder the shade of a tree, but so weak, that though he exerted himself\nhe could not stand upon his feet. Upon which I ordered Friday to rub and\nbathe his ankles with rum as he did his father's. But every minute he\nwas employed in this he would cast a wishful eye towards the boat, where\nhe left his father sitting; who suddenly disappearing he flew like\nlightning to him, and finding he had only laid himself down to ease his\nlimbs, he returned back to me presently; and then I spoke to the\nSpaniard to let Friday help him and lead him to the boat, in order to be\nconveyed to my dwelling where I would take care of him. Upon which\nFriday took him upon his back and so carried him to the canoe, setting\nhim close by his father; and presently stepping out again, launched the\nboat off and paddled it along the shore faster than I could walk, though\nthe wind blew very hard too, and having brought them safe to the creek,\naway he runs to fetch the other canoe, which he brought to the creek\nalmost as soon as I got to it by land, when wafting me over, he took our\nnew guests out of the boat; but so weak were they that I was forced to\nmake a kind of a hand-barrow; and when I came to my castle, not being\nwilling to make an entrance into my wall, we made them a handsome tent\ncovered with old sails and boughs of trees, making two good beds of rice\nstraw, with blankets to lie upon and cover them. Thus like an absolute\nking over subjects who owed their lives to me, I thought myself very\nconsiderable, especially as I had now three religions in my kingdom, my\nman Friday being a Protestant, his father a Pagan, and the Spaniard a\nPapist: but I gave liberty of conscience to them all.\nTo get provisions for my poor weak subjects, I ordered Friday to kill me\na yearling goat; which when he had done I cut off the hinder quarters,\nand chopping it into small pieces, boiled and stewed it, putting barley\nand rice into the broth. This I carried into their tent, set a table,\ndined with them myself and encouraged them. Friday was my interpreter to\nhis father, and indeed to the Spaniard too, who spoke the language of\nthe savages pretty well. After dinner I ordered Friday to fetch home all\nour arms from the field of battle, and the next day to bury the dead\nbodies, which he did accordingly.\nAnd now I made Friday inquire of his father, whether he thought these\nsavages had escaped the late storm in their canoe? and if so, whether\nthey would not return with a power too great for us to resist? He\nanswered, _that he thought it impossible they could outlive the storm;\nor, if they were driven southwardly, they would come to a land where\nthey would as certainly be devoured, as if they were drowned in the sea.\nAnd suppose they had attained their own country, the strangeness of\ntheir fatal and bloody attack, would make them tell their people, that\nthe rest of them were killed by thunder and lightning, not by the hand\nof man, but by two heavenly spirits_ (meaning Friday and me) _who were\nsent from above to destroy them. And this_, he said, _he knew because he\nheard them say the same to one another_. And indeed he was in the right\non't; for I have heard since, that these four men gave out that whoever\nwent to that inchanted island, would be destroyed by fire from the gods.\nNo canoes appearing soon after, as I expected, my apprehensions ceased:\ninstead of which my former thoughts of a voyage took place, especially\nwhen Friday's father assured me, I should have good usage in his nation.\nAs to the Spaniard, he told me, that sixteen more of his countrymen and\nPortuguese, who had been shipwrecked, made their escape thither; that\nthough they were in union with the savages, yet they were very miserable\nfor want of provisions and other necessaries. When I asked him about the\nparticulars of his voyage, he answered that their ship was bound from\nthe Rio de la Plata to the Havannah; that when the ship was lost, only\nfive men perished in the ocean; the rest having saved themselves in the\nboat, were now landed on the main continent. 'And what do they intend to\ndo there?' said I. He replied, they have concerted measures to escape,\nby building a vessel, but that they had neither tools nor provisions,\nfor that all their designs came to nothing. 'Supposing, said I, I should\nmake a proposal, and invite them here, would they not carry me prisoner\nto New Spain?' he answered no; for he knew them to be such honest men,\nas would scorn to act such inhuman baseness to their deliverer: That, if\nI pleased, he and the old savage would go over to them, talk with them\nabout it, and bring me an answer: That they should all swear fidelity to\nme as their leader, upon the Holy Sacrament; and for his, part he would\nnot only do the same, but stand to the last drop of his blood should\nthere be occasion.\nThese solemn assurances made me resolve to grant them relief, and to\nsend these two over for that purpose; but when every thing was ready,\nthe Spaniard raised an objection, which carried a great deal of weight\nin it: _You know, Sir, said he, that having been some time with you, I\ncannot but be sensible of your stock of rice and corn, sufficient,\nperhaps for us at present, but not for them, should they come over\npresently; much less to victual a vessel for an intended voyage. Want\nmight be as great an occasion for them to disagree and rebel, as the\nchildren of Israel did against God himself, when they wanted to break\nbread in the wilderness. And therefore, my advice is to await another\nharvest and in the mean time cultivate and improve more land, whereby we\nmay have plenty of provisions in order to execute our design_.\nThis advice of the Spaniard's I approved extremely; and so satisfied was\nI of his fidelity that I esteemed him ever after. And thus we all four\nwent to work upon some more land, and against seed time we had gotten so\nmuch cured and trimmed up sufficient to sow twenty-two bushels of barley\non, and sixteen jars of rice, which was in short all the feed we had to\nspare. As we were four in number and by this time all in good health, we\nfeared not a hundred Indians should they venture to attack us; and while\nthe corn was growing, I pitched upon some trees, fit to build us a large\nvessel in case the Spaniards came over; which being marked, I ordered\nFriday and his father to cut them down, appointing the Spaniard, who was\nnow my privy counsellor, to oversee and direct the work. I likewise\nincreased my flocks of goats by shooting the wild dams and bringing home\ntheir kids to my inclosure. Nor did I neglect the grape season, but\ncured them as usual, though I had such a quantity now as would have\nfilled eighty barrels with raisins. And thus all of us being employed,\nthey in working, and I in providing for them till harvest came, God\nAlmighty blessed the increase of it so much, that from twenty-two\nbarrels of barley we thrashed out two hundred and twenty, and the like\nquantity of rice; sufficient to victual a ship fit to carry me and all\nthe Spaniards to any part of America.\nThus the principal objection being answered, by a sufficient stock of\nprovisions, I sent my two ambassadors over to the main land, with a\nregal authority to administer the oaths of allegiance and fidelity, and\nhave an instrument signed under their hands, though I never asked\nwhether they had pen, ink, or paper; when giving each of them a musket,\neight charges of powder and ball, and provisions enough for eight days,\nthey sailed away with a fair gale on a day when the moon was at full.\nScarce a fortnight had passed over my head, but impatient for their\nreturn, I laid me down to sleep one morning, when a strange accident\nhappened, which was ushered in by Friday's coming running to me, and\ncalling aloud, _Master, Master, they are come, they are come._ Upon\nwhich, not dreaming of any danger, out I jumped from my bed, put on my\nclothes and hurried through my little grove; when looking towards the\nsea, I perceived a boat about a league and a half distant, standing in\nfor the shore with the wind fair. I beheld they did not come from the\nside where the land lay on, but from the southerhmost end of the island:\nSo these being none of the people we wanted, I ordered Friday to lie\nstill, till such time as I came down from the mountain, which, with my\nladder, I now ascended in order to discover more fully what they were;\nand now, with the help of my perspective glass, I plainly perceived an\nEnglish ship, which I concluded it to be; by the fashion of its long\nboat; and which filled me with such uncommon transports of joy, that I\ncannot tell how to describe; and yet some secret doubts hang about me,\nproceeding from I know not what cause, as though I had reason to be upon\nmy guard. And, indeed, I would have no man contemn the secret hints and\nintimations of danger, which very often are given, when he may imagine\nthere is no possibility of its being real; for had I not been warned by\nthis silent admonition, I had been in a worse situation than before, and\nperhaps inevitably ruined.\nNot long it was, before I perceived the boat to approach the shore, as\nthough they looked for a place where they might conveniently land; and\nat last they ran their boat on shore upon the beach, about half a mile\ndistance; which proved so much the happier for me, since, had they come\ninto the creek, they had landed just at my door, and might not only have\nforced me out of my castle, but plundered me of all I had in the world.\nNow I was fully convinced they were all Englishmen, three of which were\nunarmed and bound; when immediately the first four or five leaped on\nshore, and took those three out of the boat as prisoners; one of whom I\ncould perceive used the most passionate gestures of entreaty,\naffliction, and despair, while the others in a lesser degree, showed\nabundance of concern.\nNot knowing the meaning of this, I was very much astonished, and I\nbeckoned to Friday, who was below, to ascend the mountain, and likewise\nview this sight. _O master_, said he to me, _you see English mans eat\nprisoners as well as Savage mans_. 'And do you think they will eat them\nFriday?' said I. _Yes_, said Friday, _they eat all up_. 'No, no,' said\nI, 'Friday, I am much more concerned lest they murder them, but as for\neating them up, that I am sure they will never do.'\nAnd now I not only lamented my misfortune in not having the Spaniard and\nSavage with me, but also that I could not come within shot of them\nunperceived, they having no fire arms among them, and save these three\nme, whom I thought they were going to kill with their swords. But some\ncomfort it was to me, that I perceived they were set at liberty to go\nwhere they pleased, the rascally seamen scattering about as though they\nhad a mind to see the place; and so long did they negligently ramble,\nthat the tide had ebbed so low, as to leave the boat aground. Nor were\nthe two men who were in her more circumspect; for having drunk a little\ntoo much liquor, they fell fast asleep; but one of them waking before\nthe other, and perceiving the boat too fast aground for his strength to\nmove it, he hallooed out to the rest, who made all possible expedition\nto come to him; but as Providence ordered it, all their force was\nineffectual to launch her, when I could hear them speak to one another,\n_Why let her alone, Jack, can't ye, she'll float next tide_; by which\nwords I was fully convinced they were my own countrymen. I all this\nwhile lay very quiet, as being fully sensible it could be no less than\nten hours before the boat would be afloat, and then it would be so dark,\nthat they could not easily perceive me, by which means I should be at\nmore liberty to hear their talk, and observe all their motions: not but\nthat I prepared for my defence: yet, as I had another sort of enemy to\ncombat with I acted with more caution. I took two fusees on my shoulder,\nand gave Friday three muskets; besides my formidable goat-skin coat and\nmonstrous cap made me look as fierce and terrible as Hercules of old,\nespecially when two pistols were stuck in my belt, and my naked sword\nhanging by my side.\nIt was my design at first not to make any attempt till it was dark; and\nit being now two o'clock, in the very heat of the day, the sailors were\nall straggling in the woods, and undoubtedly were lain down to sleep.\nThe three poor distressed creatures, too anxious to get any repose, were\nhowever seated under the shade of a great tree, about a quarter of a\nmile from me. Upon which, without any more ado, I approached towards\nthem, with my man following behind me, and before I was perceived, I\ncalled aloud to them in Spanish, _What are ye, Gentlemen_.\nAt these words, they started up in great confusion, when they beheld the\nstrange figure I made; they returned no answer, but seemed as if they\nwould fly from me: 'Gentlemen,' said I, in English 'don't be afraid,\nperhaps you have a friend nearer than you expect.' _He must be from\nHeaven_, said one of them, gravely pulling off his hat, _for we are past\nall help in this world._ 'All help is from Heaven,' said I: 'But Sir, as\nI have perceived every action between you and these brutes since your\nlanding only inform me, how to assist you, and I will do it to the\nutmost of my power.'\n_Am I talking with God or man_, said he, in melting tears. _Are you of\nhuman kind or an angel_? 'Sir,' said I, 'my poor habit will tell you I\nam a man, and an Englishman, willing to assist you, having but this\nservant only: here are arms and ammunition: tell freely your condition:\nCan we save you?' _The story_, said he, _is too long to relate, since\nour butchers are so near: but, Sir, I was master of that ship, my men\nhave mutinied, and it is a favour they have put my mate, this\npassenger, and me, on shore without murdering us, though we expect\nnothing but perishing here_. 'Are your enemies gone?' said I. _No_,\nreplied he, pointing to a thicket, _there they lie, while my heart\ntrembles, lest having seen and heard us they should murder us all._\n'Have they fire arms?' said I. _They have but two pieces_, said he, _one\nof which is left in the boat._ He also told me there were two enormous\nvillains among them, that were the authors of this mutiny, who, if they\nwere killed or seized, might induce the rest to return to their\nobedience. 'Well, well,' said I, 'let us retire farther under the\ncovering of the woods;' and there it was I made these conditions\nwith him:\n[Illustration: R. Crusoe accosting the Captain, &c. set ashore by the\nMutineers.]\nI. That, while they staid in the island, they should not pretend to any\nauthority; but should entirely conform to my orders, and return me the\narms which I should put in their hands.\nII. That, if the ship was recovered, they should afford Friday and\nmyself a passage _gratis_ to England.\nWhen he had given me all the satisfaction I could desire, I gave him and\nhis two companions each of them a gun, with powder and ball sufficient,\nadvising them to fire upon them as they lay sleeping. The Captain\nmodestly said, that he was sorry to kill them; though, on the other\nhand, to let these villains escape, who were the authors of his misery,\nmight be the ruin of us all. _Well,_ said he, _do as you think fit;_ and\nso accordingly I fired, killed one of the Captain's chief enemies and\nwounding the other; who eagerly called for assistance, but the Captain\nwho had reserved his piece, coming up to him, _Sirrah_, said he, _'tis\ntoo late to call for assistance, you should rather cry to God to pardon\nyour villany;_ and so knocked him down with the stock of his gun: three\nothers were also slightly wounded, who at my approach cried out for\nmercy. This the Captain granted upon condition that they would swear to\nbe true to him in recovering the ship, which they solemnly did; However\nI obliged the Captain to keep them bound. After which I sent Friday and\nthe Captain's mate to secure the boat and bring away the oars and sails;\nwhen, at their return, three men coming back, and seeing their late\ndistressed Captain, now their conqueror, submitted to be bound also. And\nthen it was, that having more liberty, I related the adventures of my\nwhole life, which he heard with a serious and wonderful attention. After\nthis, I carried him and his two companions into my little fortified\ncastle, shewed them all my conveniences, and refreshed them with such\nprovisions as I could afford. When this was over, we began to consider\nabout regaining the ship: he said, that there were twenty-six hands on\nboard, who knowing their lives were forfeited by the law, for conspiracy\nand mutiny, were so very hardened, that it would be dangerous for our\nsmall company to attack them. This was a reasonable inference indeed;\nbut something we must resolve on, and immediately, put in execution:\nwe, therefore heaved the boat upon the beach so high that she could not\nshoot off at high water mark, and broke a hole in her not easily to be\nstopped; so that all the signals they gave for the boat to come on board\nwere in vain. This obliged them to send another boat ashore, with ten\nmen armed, whose faces the Captain plainly descried, the boatswain being\nthe chief officer; but he said there were three honest lads among them,\nwho were forced into the conspiracy. Hereupon I gave him fresh courage\n(for I had perceived he was in concern): In the mean while securing our\nprisoners, except two, whom we took to our assistance, we thought\nourselves able enough to adventure a battle. When the sailors landed,\nand beheld their boat in that condition, they not only hallooed, but\nfired for their companions to hear, yet they received no answer. This\nstruck them with horror and amazement, thinking their companions were\nmurdered, they made as if they would return to the ship. I could\nperceive the Captain's countenance change at this, till of a sudden\nthree men were ordered to look after the boat, while the other seven\nleapt on shore in order to search for their companions; and, indeed,\nthey came to the brow of the hill, near my ancient castle, from whence\nthey could see to a great distance in the woods, and there shooting and\nhallooing till tired and weary, they at length seated themselves under a\nspreading tree. My opinion was, that nothing could be done till night,\nwhen I might use some artifice to get them all out of the boat; but of a\nsudden they started up, and made to the sea-side; hereupon I ordered\nFriday and the Captain's mate to go over the creek, and halloo as loud\nas they could, and so decoying them into the woods, come round to me\nagain. And this, indeed, had good effect; for they followed the noise,\ntill coming westward to the creek, they called for their boat to carry\nthem over, and taking one of the men out of her, left two to look after\nher, having fastened her to the stump of a little tree on shore.\nHereupon immediately the Captain and our party passing the creek, out of\ntheir sight, we surprised them both, by the Captain's knocking down one,\nand ordering the other in surrender upon pain of death, and who being\nthe honestest of them all, sincerely joined with us. By this time it was\npretty late; when the rest returning to there boat, which they found\naground in the creek, the tide out, and the men gone, they ran about\nwringing their hands, crying it was an enchanted island, and that they\nshould be all murdered by spirits or devils. My men would willingly have\nfallen upon them, but I would not agree to hazard any of our party. But\nto be more certain, Friday & the Captain crawled upon their hands &\nfeet, as near as possible; and when the boatswain approached in sight,\nso eager was the Captain, that he fired and killed him on the spot;\nFriday wounded the next man, and a third ran away. Hereupon I advanced\nwith, my whole army: and, it being dark, I ordered the man we had\nsurprised in the boat, to call them by their names, and to parley with\nthem. Accordingly he called out aloud, _Tom Smith, Tom Smith!_ He\nanswered, _Who's that? Robinson!_ answered the other. _For God's sake\nTom, surrender immediately, or you're all dead men. Who must we\nsurrender to?_ says Smith. _To our captain and fifty men here, who have\ntaken me prisoner, wounded Will Frye, and killed the boatswain. Shall we\nhave quarter then?_ said he. Hereupon the Captain calls out, _You Smith,\nyou know my voice, surrender immediately, and you shall all have your\nlives granted, except Will Atkins_. Hereupon Atkins cries out, _What\nhave I done Captain, more than the rest, who have been as bad as me?_\nBut that was a lie, for he was the person that laid hold of him, and\nbound him. However, he was ordered to submit to the governor's mercy,\nfor such was I called. And so, laying down their arms, we bound them\nall, and seized on their boat.\nAfter this, the Captain expostulated with them, telling them that the\ngovernor was an Englishman, who might execute them there; but he thought\nthey would be sent to England, except Will Atkins, who was ordered to\nprepare for death next morning. Hereupon Atkins implored the Captain to\nintercede for his life, and the rest begged they might not be sent to\nEngland. This answered our project for seizing the ship. For after\nsending Atkins and two of the worst fast bound to the cave, and the rest\nbeing committed to my bower, I sent the Captain to treat with them in\nthe, governor's name, offering them pardon if they would assist in\nrecovering the ship. Upon which they all promised to stand by him till\nthe last drop of their blood; and whoever acted treacherously, should be\nhanged in chains upon the beach. They were all released on these\nassurances: and then the Captain repaired to the other boat, making his\npassenger Captain of her, and gave him four men well armed; while\nhimself, his mate, and five more, went in the other boat. By midnight\nthey came within call of the ship, when the Captain ordered Robinson to\nhale her, and tell them that with great difficulty they had found the\nmen at last. But while they were discoursing, the Captain, his mate and\nthe rest entered, and knocked down the second mate and carpenter,\nsecured those that were upon the deck, by putting them under hatches,\nwhile the other boat's crew entered and secured the forecastle; they\nthen broke into the round-house, where the mate after some resistance,\nshot the pirate captain through the head, upon which all the rest\nyielded themselves prisoners. And thus the ship being recovered, the\njoyful signal was fired, which I heard with the greatest joy imaginable:\nnor was it long before he brought the ship to an anchor at the creek's\nmouth, where, coming to me unawares, _There_, says he _my dearest friend\nand deliverer, there is your ship, and we are your servants_: a comfort\nso unspeakable, as made me swoon in his arms while, with gratitude to\nHeaven, we were tenderly embracing each other.\nNothing now remaining, but to consult what we should do with the\nprisoners, whom he thought it was not safe to take on board. Hereupon\nconcerting with the Captain, I dressed myself in one of his suits, and\nsending for them, told them, that I was going to leave the island with\nall my people, if they would tarry there, their lives should be spared;\nif not, they should be hanged at the first port they came at. They\nagreed to stay. Hereupon I told them my whole story, charging them to be\nkind to the Spaniards that were expected, gave them, all my arms, and\ninforming them of every thing necessary for their subsistence, I and my\nman Friday went on board. But the next morning two of the men came\nswimming to the ship's side, desiring the Captain to take them on board,\nthough he hanged them afterwards, complaining mightily how barbarously\nthe others used them. Upon which I prevailed with the Captain to take\nthem in; and being severely whipt and pickled, they proved more honest\nfor the future, and so I bid farewell to this island, carrying along\nwith me my money, my parrot, umbrella, and goat-skin cap; setting sail\nDecember 12, 1686, after twenty-eight years, two months, and nineteen\ndays residence, that same day and month that I escaped from Sallee;\nlanding in England, June 11, 1687, after five and thirty years absence\nfrom my own country; which rendered me altogether a stranger there.\nHere I found my first Captain's widow alive, who had buried a second\nhusband, but in very mean circumstances, and whom I made easy upon his\naccount. Soon after I went down to Yorkshire, where all my family were\nexpired, except two sisters, and as many of one of my brother's\nchildren. I found no provision had been made for me, they concluding I\nhad been long since dead; so that I was but in a very slender station.\nIndeed the Captain did me a great kindness, by his report to the owners,\nhow I had delivered their ship on the Desolate Island, upon which they\nmade me a present of 200\u00a3. sterling. I next went to Lisbon, taking my\nman Friday with me, and there arriving in April, I met the Portuguese\nCaptain who had taken me on board on the African coast; but, being\nancient, he had left off the sea, and resigned all his business to his\nson, who followed the Brazil trade. So altered both of us were, that we\ndid not know each other at first, till I discovered myself more fully to\nhim. After a few embraces, I began to enquire of my concerns; and then\nthe old gentleman told me that it was nine years since he had been at\nBrazil, where my partner was then living, but my trustees were both\ndead; that he believed I should have a good account of the product of my\nplantation; that the imagination of my being lost, had obliged my\ntrustees to give an estimate of my share to the procurator fiscal, who,\nin case of my not returning, had given one third to the king & the rest\nto the monastery of St. Augustine: but if I put in my claim, or any one\nfor me, it would be returned, except the yearly product which was given\nto the poor. I then desired him to tell me what improvement he thought\nhad been made of my plantation, and whether he imagined it was worth my\nwhile to look after it? he answered, he did not know how much it was\nimproved; but this he was certain of, that my partner was grown vastly\nrich upon his half of it; and, that he had been informed, that the kind\nhad 200 moidores per annum of his third part. He added, that the\nsurvivors of my trustees were nervous of an ingenuous character; that my\npartner could witness my title, my name being registered in the country,\nby which means I should indefensibly recover considerable sums of money,\nbut, answered, I, how could my trustees dispose of my effects, when I\nmade you only my heir? This, said he, was true but, there being no\naffidavit made of my death he could not act as my executor. However, he\nhad ordered his don,(then at Brazil), to act by procuration upon my\naccount, and he had taken possession of my sugar-house, having accounted\nhimself for eight years with my partner and trustees for the profits, of\nwhich he would give me a very good account.\nAnd, indeed, this he performed very faithfully in a few days, making\nhimself indebted to me 470 moidores of gold, over and above what had\nbeen lost at sea, after I had left the place. And then he recounted to\nme what misfortune he had gone through, which forced my money out of his\nhands, to buy part in a new ship-but says he, _you shall not want, take\nthis; and, when my son returns, every farthing shall be paid you._ Upon\nwhich he put into my hand a purse of 150 moidores in gold, as likewise\nthe instrument, containing the title to the ship which his son was in,\nand which he offered as security for the remainder. But really when I\nsaw so much goodness, generosity, tenderness, and real honesty, I had\nnot the heart to accept it, for fear he should straiten himself upon my\naccount. _It is true,_ said he, _it may be so; but then the money is\nyours, not mine, and you may have the greatest occasion for it._\nHowever, I returned fifty of them back again, promising that I would\nfreely forgive him the other hundred when I got my effects into my\nhands, and that I designed to go myself for that purpose. But he told me\nhe could save me that trouble, and so caused me to enter my name with a\npublic notary, as likewise my affidavit, with a procuration affixed to\nit; and this he ordered me to send in a letter to one of his\nacquaintance, a merchant in Brazil; and, indeed, nothing could be more\nfaithfully and honourably observed; for, in seven months time, I had a\nvery faithful account of all my effects, what sums of money were raised,\nwhat expended, and what remained for myself! In a word I found myself\nto be worth 5000\u00a3. sterling, and 1000 per annum. Nor was this all, for\nmy partner congratulated me upon my being alive, telling me how much my\nplantation was improved; what Negroes were at work, and how many _Ave\nMarias_ he had said to the Virgin Mary for my preservation, desiring me\nto accept kindly some presents he had sent me, which I found showed the\ngreatest generosity.\nNo sooner did the ship arrive, but I rewarded my faithful Captain, by\nreturning him the hundred moidores, and not only forgiving him all he\nowed me, I allowed him yearly a hundred more, and fifty to his son,\nduring their lives. And now being resolved to go to England, I returned\nletters of thanks to the Prior of St. Augustine, and in particular to my\nold partner, with very suitable presents. By the Captain's advice, I was\npersuaded to go by land to Calais, and there take passage for England:\nwhen, as it happened, I got a young English gentleman, a merchant's son\nat Lisbon, to accompany me, together with two English, and two\nPortuguese gentleman: so that with a Portuguese servant, an English\nsailor, and my man Friday, there were nine of us in number.\nThus armed and equipped, we set out, and came to Madrid, when the summer\ndecaying, we hasted to Navarre, where we were informed that there was\nscarcely any passing, be reason of the prodigious quantity of snow; so\nthat we were obliged to abide near twenty days at Pamoeluria, and at\nlast to take a guide to conduct us safe towards Tholouse. And now twelve\nother gentlemen joining with us, together with their servants, we had a\nvery jolly company. Away our guide led us by frightful mountains, and\nthrough so many intricate mazes and windings, that we insensibly passed\nthem, which, as we travelled along, ushered us into the prospect of the\nfruitful and charming provinces of Languedoc and Galcoigne.\nBut now came on two adventures, both tragical and comical. First, our\nguide was encountered by three wolves and a bear, who set upon him and\nhis horse, and wounded him in three places; upon which my man, riding up\nto his assistance, shot one of them dead upon the spot, which made the\nothers retire into the woods. But the pleasantest adventure was, to\nbehold my man attack the bear. 'Tis such a creature, that if you let him\nalone, he will never meddle with you, and this my man very well knew,\nand so begging leave of me in broken English, he told us, _he would make\ngood laugh_. 'Why, you silly fool,' said I, 'he'll eat you up at a\nmouthful.' _Eatee me up,_ replied he, by way of scorn, _me not only\neatee him, but make much good laugh._ Upon which, pulling off his boots,\nhe claps on his pumps, and running after the monstrous beast, he called\nout, that he wanted to discourse with him, and then throwing stones on\npurpose to incense him, the beast turns about in fury, and, with\nprodigious strides, shuffles after him. But though he was not swift\nenough to keep up pace with Friday, who made up to us as it were for\nhelp; yet being angry, 'You dog,' said I, 'immediately take horse, and\nlet us shoot the creature.' But he cried, _Dear master, no shoot, me\nmake you laugh much._ And so he turned about, making signs to follow,\nwhile the bear ran after, till coming to a great oak, he ascended in a\nminute, leaving his gun, at the bottom of it. Nor did the bear make any\ndifficulty of it, but ascended like a cat, though his weight was very\ngreat. You must consider I was not a little amazed at the folly of my\nman, as not perceiving any thing to occasion our laughter, till such\ntime as we rode up nearer, and beheld the bear mounted upon the oak, on\nthe beginning of the same branch, to which Friday clung at the farther\nend, where the bear durst not come. Hereupon Friday cried out, _Now\nmaster, me make much laugh, me make bear dance._ Upon which he fell a\nshaking the bough, which made the creature look behind him, to see how\nhe could retreat. Then as if the bear had understood his stammering\nEnglish, _Why you no come farther, Mr. Bear_ said he, _pray, Mr. Bear\ncome farther_; and then indeed we all burst into a laughter; especially\nwhen we perceived Friday drop like a squirrel upon the ground, leaving\nthe beast to make the best of his way down the tree. And now thinking it\nthe most convenient time to shoot the creature, Friday cried out, _O\ndear master, no shoot, me shoot by and by_; when taking up the gun, _me\nno shoot yet_, said he _me make one more much laugh._ And accordingly he\nwas as good as his word; for the creature descending backwards from the\ntree very leisurely, before he could lay one foot on the ground, Friday\nshot him through the ear, stone dead; and looking to see whether we were\npleased, he burst out into a hearty laughter, saying, _So we kill de\nbear in my country, not with the gun, but with much long arrows._ Thus\nended our diversion, to our great satisfaction; especially in a place\nwhere the terrible howlings struck us with a continual terror. But the\nsnows now growing very deep, particularly on the mountains, the ravenous\ncreatures were then obliged to seek for sustenance in the villages, were\ncoming by surprise on the country people, killed several of them,\nbesides a great number of their sheep and horses.\nOur guide told us, we had yet one more dangerous place to pass by; and\nif their were any more wolves in the country, there we should find them.\nThis was a small plain encompassed with woods, to get through a long\nlane to the village where we were to lodge. When we entered the wood,\nthe sun was within half an hour of setting: and a little after it was\nset, we came into the plain, which was not above two furlongs over, and\nthen we perceived five great wolves cross the road, without taking\nnotice of us, and so swift as though they were pursuing after their\nprey. Hereupon our guide, believing there were more coming, desired us\nto be on our guard. Accordingly our eyes were very circumspect, till\nabout half a league farther, we perceived a dead horse, and near a dozen\nof wolves devouring its carcase. My man Friday fain would have fired at\nthem, but I would not permit him; nor had we gone half over the plain,\nbut we heard dreadful howlings in a wood on our left, when presently we\nsaw an hundred come up against us, as though they had been an\nexperienced army. This obliged us to form ourselves in the best manner;\nand then I ordered that every other man should fire, that those who did\nnot, might be ready to gave a second volley, should they advance upon\nus; and then every man should make use of his pistols. But there was no\nnecessity for this; for the enemy being terrified stopped at the noise\nof the fire; four of them were shot dead, and, several others being\nwounded; went bleeding away, as we could very plainly discover by the\nsnow. And now remembering what had been often told me, that such was the\nmajesty of a man's voice, as to strike terror even in the fiercest\ncreatures, I ordered all our companions to halloo as loud as possible;\nand in this notion I was not altogether mistaken; for they immediately\nturned about upon the first halloo, and began to retire; upon which,\nordering a second volley in their rear, they galloped into the woods\nwith great precipitation.\nThus we had some small time to load our pieces again, and then made all\nthe haste we could on our way; but we had not rode far, before we were\nobliged to put ourselves in a posture of defence as before, being\nalarmed with a very dreadful noise in the same wood, on our left hand,\nthe same way as we were to pass, only that it was at some distance from\nus. By this time the darksome clouds began to spread over the elements,\nand the night growing very dusky, made it so much the more to our\ndisadvantage; but still the noise increasing, we were fully assured,\nthat it was the howling and the yelling of those ravenous creatures;\nwhen presently three troops of wolves on our front appeared in sight, as\nthough a great number of them had a design to surround us, and devour us\nin spite of fate. But as they did not fall upon us immediately, we\nproceeded on our journey in as swift a manner as the roads would permit\nour horses, which was only a large trot. It was in this manner we\ntravelled, till such a time as we discovered another wood, and had the\nprospect of its entrance through which were to pass, at the farthest\nside of the plain. But surely none can express the terror we were in,\nwhen approaching the lane, we perceived a confused number of the\nfiercest wolves, standing, as it were guarding its entrance. Nor were we\nlong in this amazement, before another occasion of horror presented\nitself; for suddenly we heard the report of a gun at another opening in\nthe wood and, looking that way, out ran a horse bridled and saddled,\nflying with the greatest swiftness, and no less than sixteen or\nseventeen wolves pursuing after him, in order to devour the poor\ncreature; and unquestionably they did so, after they had run him down,\nnot being able to hold out that swiftness with which he at first\nescaped them.\nWhen we rode up to that entrance from whence the horse came forth, there\nlay the carcases of another horse & two men, mangled and torn by these\ndevouring wolves; and undoubtedly one of these men was the person who\nfired the gun which we had heard, for the piece lay by him; but alas!\nmost of the upper part of his body and his head were entombed in the\nbowels of these ravenous creatures.\nWhat course to take, whether to proceed or retreat, we could not tell;\nbut it was not long before the wolves themselves made us to come to a\nresolution; for such numbers surrounded us, every one of whom expected\ntheir prey, that were our bodies to be divided among them, there would\nnot be half a mouthful a-piece. But happy, very happy it was for us,\nthat but a little way from the entrance, there lay some very large\ntimber trees, which I supposed had been cut down and laid there for\nsale: amongst which I drew my little troop, placing ourselves in a line\nbehind one long tree, which served us for a breast work, when desiring\nthem to alight, we stood in a triangle, or three fronts, closing our\nbodies in the centre, the only place where we could preserve them.\nNever certainly was there a more furious charge than what the wolves\nmade upon us in this place: and the sight of the horses, which was the\nprincipal prey they aimed at, provoked their hunger, and added to their\nnatural fierceness. They came on us with a most dreadful noise, that\nmade the woods ring again: and beginning to mount the pieces of timber,\nI ordered every man to fire, as before directed: and, indeed, so well\ndid they take their aim, that they killed several of the wolves at the\nfirst volley; but still we were obliged to keep a continual firing, by\nreason they came on like devils, pushing one another with the greatest\nfury. But our second volley something abated their courage, when\nstopping a little, we hoped they would have made the best of their way,\nhowever, it did not prove so, for others made a new attempt upon us; and\nthough in four firings, we killed seventeen or eighteen of them, laming\ntwice as many, yet they several times successively came on, as though\nthey valued not their lives for the sake of their prey.\nUnwilling was I to spend our last shot too suddenly, and therefore\ncalling my other servant, and giving him a horn of powder, bid him lay a\nlarge train quite along the timber, which he did, while Friday was\ncharging my fusee and his own, with the greatest dexterity. By this time\nthe wolves coming up the timber, I set fire to the train, by snapping a\ndischarged pistol close to the powder. This so scorched and terrified\nthem, that some fell down, and others jumped in among us: but there\nwere immediately dispatched, when all the rest, frighted with the\nlight, which the darksome night caused to appear more dreadful, began at\nlength to retire; upon which ordering our last pistols to be fired at\nonce, giving at the same time a great shout, the wolves were obliged to\nhave recourse to their swiftness, and turn tail; and then we sallied out\nupon twenty lame ones, cutting them in pieces with our swords, which\nobliged them to howl lamentably, to the terror of their fellows, who\nresigned to us the field as victorious conquerors. And, indeed, I\nquestion whether Alexander king of Macedonia, in any of his conquests,\nhad more occasion for triumph than we had; for he was but attacked with\nnumerous armies of soldiers; whereas our little army was obliged to\ncombat a legion of devils, as it were, worse than the cannibals, who,\nthe same moment they had slain us, would have sacrificed us, to satisfy\ntheir voracious appetites.\nThus ended our bloody battle with the beasts, having killed threescore\nof them, and saved our lives from their fury. We still had a league\nfurther to go, when, as we went, our ears were saluted with their most\nunwelcome howlings, and we expected every moment another attack. But, in\nan hour's time, we arrived at the town where we were to lodge; and here\nwe found the place strictly guarded, and all in terrible confusion, as\nwell they might, for fear of the bears and wolves breaking into the\nvillage, in order to prey upon their cattle and people. The next morning\nwe were obliged to take a new guide, by reason the other fell very bad\nof his wounds, which he had received as before mentioned. After we had\nreached Tholouse, we came into a warm, pleasant, and fruitful country,\nnot infested with wolves, nor any sort of ravenous creatures: and when\nwe told our story there, they much blamed our guide, for conducting us\nthrough the forest at the foot of the mountains, in such a severe\nseason, when the snow obliged the wolves to seek for shelter in the\nwoods. When we informed them in what manner we placed ourselves, and the\nhorses in the centre, they exceedingly reprehended us, and told us, it\nwas an hundred to one, but we had been all destroyed; for that it was\nthe very sight of the horses, their so much desired prey, that made the\nwolves more ragingly furious than they would have been, which was\nevident, by their being at other times really afraid of a gun; but then\nbeing exceedingly hungry and furious upon that account, their eagerness\nto come at the horses made them insensible of their danger; and that, if\nwe had not, by a continual fire, and at last by the cunning stratagem of\nthe train of powder, got the better of them, it had been great odds if\ntheir number had not overpowered us; besides, it was a great mercy we\nalighted from our horses, and fought them with that courage and conduct,\nwhich, had we failed to do, every man of us, with our beasts, had been\ndevoured: and, indeed, this was nothing but truth; for never in my life\nwas I so sensible of danger, as when three hundred, devils came roaring\nupon us, to shun whose unwelcome company, if I was sure to meet a storm\nevery week; I would rather go a thousand leagues by sea.\nI think I have, nothing uncommon in my passage through France to take\nnotice of, since other travellers of greater learning and ingenuity,\nhave given more ample account than my pen is able to set forth. From\nTholouse I travelled to Paris, from thence to Calais, where I took\nshipping, and landed at Dover the 14th of January, in a very\ncold season.\nThus come to the end of my travels, I soon discovered my new found\nestate, and all the bills of exchange I had were currently paid. The\ngood ancient widow, my only privy counsellor, thought no pains nor care\ntoo great to procure my advantage, nor had I ever occasion to blame her\nfidelity, which drew from me an ample reward. I was for leaving my\neffects in her hands, intending to set out for Lisbon, and so the\nBrazils; but as in the Desolate Island I had some doubt about the Romish\nreligion, so I knew there was little encouragement to settle there,\nunless I would apostatize from the orthodox faith, or live in continual\nfear of the Inquisition. Upon this account I resolved to sell my\nplantation; and, for that intent, I wrote to my old friend at Lisbon,\nwho returned to me an answer to my great satisfaction; which was, that\nhe could sell it to good account; however, if I thought it convenient to\ngive him liberty to offer it in my name to the two merchants, the\nsurvivors of my trustees residing at the Brazils, who consequently knew\nits intrinsic value, having lived just upon the spot, and who I was\nsensible were very rich, and therefore might be the more willing to\npurchase it: he did not in the least doubt, but that I should make four\nor five thousand pieces of eight more of it, than I could, if I disposed\nof it in any other manner whatsoever.\nYou may be sure I could not but agree with this kind and ingenuous\nproposal; and immediately I sent him an order to offer it to them, which\nhe accordingly did; so that about eight months after, the ship being in\nthat time returned, he gave me a satisfactory account, that they not\nonly willingly accepted the offer, but that they had also remitted\n33,000 pieces of eight to a correspondence of their own at Lisbon, in\norder to pay for the purchase.\nHereupon, in return, I signed the instrument of sale, according to form,\nwhich they had sent from Lisbon, and returned it again to my old friend,\nhe having sent me, for me estate, bills of three hundred and\ntwenty-eight thousand pieces of eight, reserving the payment of one\nhundred moidores per annum, which I had allowed him during life,\nlikewise: fifty to his son during life also, according to my faithful\npromise, which the plantation was to make good as a rent charge.\nAnd thus having led my reader to the knowledge of the first parts of my\nlife so remarkable for the many peculiar providences that attended it,\nfloating in the ocean of uncertainty and disappointment, of adversity\nand prosperity, beginning foolishly, and yet ending happily; methinks\nnow that I am come to a safe & pleasant haven, it is time to cast out my\nanchor, &c, laying up my vessel, bid, for a while, adieu to foreign\nadventures. I had no other concerns to look after but the care of my\nbrother's two sons, which, with the good widow's persuasions, obliged me\nto continue at home seven years. One of these children I bred up a\ngentleman, and the other an experienced sailor, remarkable for his\ncourage and bravery. Besides this, I married a virtuous young\ngentlewoman, of a very good family, by whom I had two sons and one\ndaughter. But my dear and tender wife leaving this earthly stage (as in\nthe second part of my life you will hear) which rent my soul as it were\nasunder, my native country became weary and tiresome to me; and my\nnephew happening to come from sea, tempted me to venture another voyage\nto the East Indies, which I did in the year 1694, at which time I\nvisited my island, and informed myself of every thing that happened\nsince my departure.\nOne might reasonably imagine, that what I had suffered, together with an\nadvanced age, and the fear of losing not only what I had gotten, but my\nlife also, might have choaked up all the seeds of youthful ambition and\ncuriosity, and put a lasting period to my wandering inclinations. But as\nnothing but death can fully allay the active part of my life, no less\nremarkable for the many various contingencies of it, you will next\nperceive how I visited my little kingdom, saw my successors the\nSpaniards, had an account of the usage they met with from the\nEnglishmen, agreeing and disagreeing, uniting and separating, till at\nlast they were subjected to the Spaniards, who yet used them very\nhonorably, together with the wonderful and successful battles over the\nIndians who invaded, and thought to have conquered the island, but were\nrepelled by their invincible courage and bravery, having taken eleven\nmen and five woman prisoners by which at my return, I found about twenty\nyoung children on my little kingdom. Here I staid twenty days, left them\nsupplies of all necessary things, as also a carpenter and smith, and\nshared the islands into parts, reserving the whole property to myself.\nNor will you be insensible, by the account of these things, of several\nnew adventures I have been engaged in, the battles I have fought, the\ndeliverances I have met with; and while, in the surprising relation of\nsuch remarkable occurrences, I shall describe many of God's kindest\nprovidences to me in particular, no less conspicuous in the same\ngoodness, power, and majesty of our great creator, shown one way or\nother, over the face of the earth, if duly adverted to.\nTHE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF\nROBINSON CRUSOE.\n_Wherein are contained several strange and surprising accounts of his\ntravels, and his most remarkable transactions both by sea and by land;\nwith his wonderful vision of the angelic world_.\nWhen we consider the puissant force of Nature and, what mighty influence\nit has many times over the temper of the mind, it will be no such great\nwonder to think, that my powerful reason should be overcome by a much\nstronger inclination. My late acquired kingdom ran continually in my\nthoughts all the day, and I dreamed of it in the night: nay, I made it\nthe continual subject of my talk, even to impertinence, when I was\nawake. I had such vapours in my head, that I actually supposed myself at\nmy castle; that I not only perceived Friday's father the old Spaniard,\nand the wicked sailors, but that I talked and discoursed with them about\ntheir manner of living; that I heard the things related to me, which I\nfound afterwards to be true; & that I executed my judgments with the\ngreatest severity upon the offenders. And, indeed, this anticipating all\nthe pleasing joys of my life, scarcely afforded me one pleasant hour: my\ndear and tender wife could not but take notice of it, which drew those\naffectionate speeches from her: _My dear,_ said she, _I am really\npersuaded that some secret impulse from Heaven occasions in you a\ndetermination to see the island again; nor am I less sensible, but your\nbeing engaged to me and these dear children is the only hinderance of\nyour departure. I know my dear, if I were in the grave, you would not\nlong continue at home; prevent not your happiness on my account, whose\nonly comfort centres in you. All that I can object is, that such an\nhazardous undertaking is no way consistent with a person of your years;\nbut if you are resolved to go,_ added she, weeping, _only permit me to\nbear you company, and that is all that I desire._\nSuch endearing tenderness, graced with the most innocent and yet most\npowerful charms, brought me insensibly into my right understanding; and\nwhen I considered all the transactions of my life, and particularly my\nnew engagement, that I had now one child already born, and my wife big\nof another; and that I had no occasion to seek for more riches, who\nalready was blessed with sufficiency, with much struggling I altered my\nresolutions at last, resolving to apply myself to some business or\nother, which might put a period to such wandering inclinations. Hereupon\nI bought a little farm in the county of Bedford, with a resolution to\nmove thither; upon this there was a pretty convenient house surrounded\nwith land, very capable of improvement, which suited my temper, as to\nplanting, managing, and cultivating. Nor was I long before I entered\nupon my new settlement, having bought ploughs, harrows, carts, waggons,\nhorses, cows, and sheep; so that I now led the life of a country\ngentleman, and as happy in my retirement as the greatest monarch in the\nworld. And what made me think my happiness the greater was, that I was\nin the middle state of life, which my father had so often recommended,\nmuch resembling the felicity of a rural retirement, which is elegantly\ndescribed by the poet in these lines:\n_Free from all vices, free from care,\nAge has no pain, and youth no snare._\nBut, in the midst of this my happiness, I was suddenly plunged in the\ngreatest sorrow that I could possibly endure; for when I least expected\nit, my dear and tender wife was forced to submit to the irresistable\npower of Death, leaving this transitory life for a better. It is\nimpossible for me to express the beauties of her mind, or the loveliness\nof her person; neither can I too much lament her loss, which my latest\nbreath shall record; her influence was greater over me, than the powers\nof my own reason, the importunities of friends, the instructions of a\nfather, or the melting tears of a tender and disconsolate mother; in a\nword, she was the spirit of all my affairs, and the centre of my\nenterprizes. But now, since the cruel hand of Death had closed my\ndearest's eyes, I seemed in my thoughts a stranger to the world; my\nprivy counsellor being gone, I was like a ship without a pilot, that\ncould only run before the wind. And when I looked around me in this busy\nworld, one party labouring for bread, and the other squandering away\ntheir estates; this put me in mind how I had lived in my little kingdom,\nwhere both reason and religion dictated to me, that there was something\nthat certainly was the reason and end of life, which was far superior to\nwhat could be hoped for on this side the grave. My country delights were\nnow as insiped and dull, as music and science to those who have neither\ntaste nor ingenuity. In short, resolving to leave off house-keeping, I\nleft my farm, and in a few months returned to London.\nBut neither could that great city, so famous for its variety of\nentertainment, afford me any agreeable delight; a state of idleness I\nfound to be the very dregs of life, and most hurtful to body and soul.\nIt was now the beginning of the year 1684, at which time my nephew (who\nas I before observed had been brought up to the sea, and advanced to be\ncaptain of a ship) was returned from a short voyage to Bilboz, the first\nhe had made in that station. He comes to me one morning, telling me that\nsome merchants of his acquaintance had proposed to him to go a voyage\nfor them to the East Indies and China in the manner of private traders;\n_and now uncle_, said he, _if you'll accompany me thither, I'll engage\nto land you upon your old island, to visit the state of your\nlittle kingdom_.\nJust before he came in, my thoughts were fixed to get a patent for its\npossession, and then to fill it with inhabitants. After I had paused a\nwhile, and looked stedfastly on him. _What devil or spirit_, said I,\n_sent you with this unlucky errand_? He started at first; but recovering\nhimself, when he perceived I was not offended; _Sir_, replied he, _what\nI have proposed cannot I hope, be styled unlucky, since certainly you\nmust be desirous to see your little territory, where you reigned with\nmore content, than any of your brother kings in the universe. Nephew_,\nsaid I, _if you will leave me there, and call for me as you came back, I\ncare not if I give my consent_: but he answered, _that the merchants\nwould not allow their vessel loaden with an infinite value, to return\nthere again, which was a month's sail out of the way; besides, Sir_ said\nhe, _if I should miscarry, was your request granted, why then you would\nbe locked up as before_. This indeed carried a great deal of reason in\nit; but we found out a remedy, and that was to carry a framed sloop on\nboard, ready to be set up in the island, by the assistance of some\ncarpenters, which we should carry with us, that might be fitted in a few\ndays to go to sea. I was not long in forming my resolution, which\noverswayed my good friend the widow's persuasions, and the natural\naffection I bore to my young children. I made my will, and settled my\nestate in such manner, that I was perfectly sure my poor infants would\nhave justice done them. The good widow not only undertook to make\nprovision, for my voyage, but also took the charge of my domestic\naffairs, and to provide for my children's education; and indeed no\nmother could take more care, or understood that office better; for which\nI lived to reward and return her my hearty thanks.\nThe beginning of January, 1694.5, my nephew being ready to sail, I and\nFriday went on board in the Downs on the 8th, having, besides that sloop\nalready mentioned, a very considerable cargo for my new colony. First, I\nhad some servants, whom I proposed to leave there, as they should appear\nwilling; there were two carpenters, a smith, and a very ingenuous fellow\nwho was Jack-of-all-trades; for he was not only a cooper by trade, but\nalso he was dexterous at making wheels and hand-mills to grind corn,\nlikewise a good turner, and a good pot-maker. I also carried a tailor,\nwho consented to stay in my plantation, and proved a most necessary\nfellow in the island. As to my cargo, it consisted of a sufficient\nquantity of linen, and English stuffs for clothing the Spaniards that I\nexpected to find there; as likewise gloves, hats, shoes, stockings;\ntogether with beds, bedding, and household stuff, especially kitchen\nutensils, with pots, kettles, pewter, brass, &c. also nails, tools of\nall sorts, staples, hooks, hinges, and all other things necessary; all\nwhich, I think, cost me about three hundred pounds. Nor was this all for\nI carried an hundred spare arms, muskets, & fusees, besides some\npistols, a considerable quantity of several sorts of shot, two brass\ncannon, besides swords, cutlasses, and the iron part of some pikes and\nhalberts. I made my nephew take with us two small quarter-deck guns,\nmore than he had occasion for in his ship, to leave behind, if there was\na necessity; so that we might build a fort there, and man it against all\nopposers whatsoever.\nWell, we put out to sea; and though I can't say this voyage was so\nunprosperous as my others had been, yet contrary winds drove us so far\nnorthward, that we were obliged to put in at Galway in Ireland, where we\nlay wind-bound two and twenty days. Here indeed our provisions were very\ncheap, and we added to our ship's stores by taking several live hogs,\ntwo cows and calves, which I then resolved to put on shore in my island,\nif our necessities did not call for them. On the 5th of February we\nsailed from Ireland, with a very fair gale, which lasted for some days;\nand I think it was about the 20th of the same month late in the evening,\nwhen the mate informed us, that he saw a flash of fire, and heard a gun\nfired: and when he was speaking a boy came in and told us, that the\nboatswain had heard another. Upon which we all ran to the quarter-deck,\nfrom whence, in a few moments, we perceived a terrible fire at a\ndistance. We had immediately recourse to our reckonings, in which, we\nwere all of opinion, that there could be no land that way, it appearing\nto be at N.N.W. Hereupon we concluded that some ship had taken fire at\nsea, and that it could not be far off by the report of the guns which we\nhad heard. We made up directly to it, and in half an hour's time the\nwind being fair, we could plainly perceive a great ship on fire in the\nmiddle of the sea. Touched with this unhappy disaster, and considering\nmy former circumstances, when the Portuguese Captain took me up, I\nimmediately ordered five guns to be fired that the poor creatures, not\nseeing us, it being dark, (though we could perceive their flame) might\nbe sensible there was deliverance at hand, and consequently might\nendeavor to save themselves in their boat. Nor was it long before the\nship blew up in the air and the fire was extinguished in the ocean. But\nsupposing them all to be in their boats, we hung out our lanterns and\nkept firing till eight o'clock in the morning; when with our\nperspectives, we beheld two boats full of people making towards us tho'\nthe tide was against them then spreading out our ancient; and hanging\nout a waft, as a signal for them to come on board, in half an hour's\ntime; we came up to them, and took them all in, there being no less than\nsixty-four men, women, and children. It was a French merchant ship of\nthree hundred tons; homeward bound from Quebec in the river of Canada.\nThe master informed me how, by the negligence of the steersman, the\nsteerage was set on fire: that, at his outcry for help, the fire was, as\nwe thought totally extinguished; but, that some sparks getting between\nthe timber, and within the ceiling, it proceeded into the hold, where\nthere was no resisting it; & then they got into their boats, as\ncreatures in the last extremity, with what provision they had, together\nwith oars, sails, and a compass, intending to go back to Newfoundland,\nthe wind blowing at S.E. and by E. though there were several chances\nagainst them as storms to overset and founder them, rains and colds to\nbenumb and perish their limbs, and contrary winds to keep them back and\nstarve them; _But_, said he, _in this our great distress we heard the\nwelcome report of your guns, when with unspeakable joy, taking down our\nmasts and sails, we were resolved to lie by till morning; but perceiving\nyour light, we set our oars at work, to keep our boat a head, the sooner\nto attain your ship, the happy instrument of our deliverance_.\nIndeed no one can express the joy of these poor creatures on this\noccasion: fear and grief are easily set forth; sighs and tears, with a\nfew motions of the hands and head, are all the demonstrations of these\npassions; but an excess of joy, carries in it a thousand extravagancies;\nespecially, I think, among the French, whose temper is allowed to be\nmore volatile, passionate, sprightly, and gay, than that of other\nnations. Some were weeping, tearing themselves in the greatest agonies\nof sorrow, and running stark mad about the ship, while the rest were\nstamping with their feet, wringing their hands, singing, laughing,\nswooning away, vomiting, fainting, with a few returning hearty thanks to\nthe Almighty; and crossing themselves. I think, if I am not mistaken,\nour surgeon was obliged to let thirty of them blood. But among the\npassengers, there were two priests, the one an old, and the other a\nyoung man; but what amazed me more was, that the oldest was in the worst\nplight; for no sooner did he perceive himself freed from danger, but he\ndropt down as it were without life, and to every one's appearance quite\ndead; but the surgeon chasing and rubbing his arm, opened a vein, which\nat first dropped, and then flowing more freely, the old man began to\nopen his eyes; and in a quarter of an hour was well again. But soon\nremembering this happy change, the joy of which whirled his blood about\nfaster than the vessels could convey it, he became so feverish, as made\nhim more fit for bedlam than any other place. But the surgeon giving\nhim a sleepy dose, he was perfectly composed the next morning.\nRemarkable indeed was the behaviour of the young priest. At his entrance\non board the ship, he fell on his face in the most humble prostration to\nthe Almighty. I thought, indeed, he had fallen into a swoon, and so ran\nto help him up; but he modestly told me, _he was returning his thanks to\nthe Almighty, desiring me to leave him a few moments, and that, next to\nhis Creator, he would return me thanks also_. And indeed he did so about\nthree minutes after, with great seriousness, and affection, while the\ntears stood in his eyes, which convinced me of the gratitude of his\nsoul. Nor did he less show his piety and wisdom in applying himself to\nhis country people, and labouring to compose them, by the most powerful\nreasons, arguments, and persuasions. And when, indeed, these people had\ntaken their night's repose, in such lodgings as our ship would allow, we\nfound nothing but the best of manners, and the most civil\nacknowledgements, for which the French are eminently remarkable. The\nnext day the Captain and one of the priests desired to speak with me and\nmy nephew the commander. They told us, _that they had saved some money\nand valuable things out of the ruined vessel, which was at our service;\nonly that they desired to be set on shore some where in our way_. At the\nfirst my nephew was for accepting the money; but I (who knew how hard my\ncase would have been, had the Portuguese Captain served me so) persuaded\nhim to the contrary; and therefore told them, _that as we had done\nnothing but what we were obliged to do, by nature and humanity, and what\nwe ourselves might expect from others in such calamity; so we took them\nup to save them, not to plunder them, or leave them naked upon the land,\nto perish for want of subsistance, and therefore would not accept their\nmoney: but as to landing them, that was a great difficulty; for being\nbound to the East Indies, it was impossible wilfully to change our\nvoyage upon their particular account, nor could my nephew_ (who was\nunder charter party to pursue it by was of Brazil) _answer it to the\nfreighters_. All that we could do, was to put ourselves in the way of\nmeeting some ships homeward bound from the West Indies, that, if\npossible, they might get a passage to France or England. Indeed, they\nwere very thankful for our first kindness; but were under great concern,\nespecially the passengers, at their being carried to the East Indies.\n_They begged therefore, I would keep on the banks of Newfoundland,\nwhere, probably, they might meet with some ship, or sloop to carry them\nto Canada, whence they came._ As this was but a reasonable request, I\nwas inclined to grant it, since it was no breach of charter party, and\nthat the laws of God and nature obliged us to do what good we could to\nour fellow-creatures; and besides the danger we ourselves should be in\nfor want of provisions: so we consented to carry them to Newfoundland,\nif wind and weather would permit; if not, that we should carry them to\nMartinico in the West Indies. But, as it happened, in a week's time we\nmade the banks of Newfoundland, where the French people hired a bark to\ncarry them to France. But the young priest being desirous to go to the\nEast Indies, I readily agreed to it, because I liked his conversation,\nand two or three of the French sailors also entered themselves on\nboard our ship.\nNow directing our course for the West Indies, steering S. and S. by E.\nabout twenty days, with little wind, another adventure happened to\nexercise our humanity. In the latitude of 27 degrees, 5 minutes north,\nthe 19th of March 1694-5, we perceived a sail, (our course S. E. and by\nS.) which bore upon us, and then she appeared to be a large vessel,\nhaving lost her main topmast and boltsprit; when firing a gun as a\nsignal of distress, wind N. N.W. we soon came to speak with her. She was\na ship from Bristol, bound home from Barbadoes, out of which road she\nhad been forced in a hurricane to the westward, in which they lost\ntheir masts.\nThey told us, _their expectations were to see the Bahama islands, but\nwere driven away by a strong wind at N.N.W. and having no sails to work\nthe ship with, but the main-course and a kind of square sail upon a jury\nforemast, because they could not come near the land, were endeavouring\nto stand for the Canaries: nay what was worse, besides all their\nfatigue, they were almost starved for want of provision, having ate\nnothing for eleven all that they had aboard, was sugar, a barrel of\nfresh water and seven casks of rum_. In this ship were passengers, a\nyouth, his mother, and a maid-servant, who were in a most deplorable\ncondition for want of food. If I had not gone on board their ship, the\nknowledge of their misery had been concealed from me, and they would\nhave inevitably perished; though, indeed, their second mate who was\nCaptain, by reason the true Captain was not on board when the hurricane\nhappened, had before informed me that there was such persons on board,\nwhom he supposed to be dead, being afraid to inquire after them, because\nhe had nothing to give them for relief. Hereupon we resolved to let them\nhave what we could spare, ordering the mate to bring some of his men on\nboard us, which he did accordingly: as he and they looked like\nskeletons, when meat was set before them, I ordered them to eat\nsparingly. But, however they soon fell sick; which obliged the surgeon\nto mix something in their broth, which was to be to them both food and\nphysic. When they were fed, we ordered our mate to carry them a sack of\nbread, and four or five pieces of beef; but the surgeon charged them to\nsee it boiled, and to keep a guard on the cook-room, to prevent the men\nfrom eating it raw, and consequently killing themselves with what was\ndesigned for their relief. But, particularly, I desired the mate to see\nwhat condition the poor passengers were in, and the surgeon gave him a\npitcher of the same broth which he had prepared for the men. And being\ncurious to see this scene of misery myself, I took the Captain (as we\ncalled the mate of the ship) in our own boat, and sailed after them.\nHere was a sad sight indeed! scarce were the victuals half boiled in the\npot; but they were ready to break open the cook-room door. To stay their\nstomachs the mate gave them biscuits, which were dipped in and softened\nthem with the liquor of the meat, which they call _bruise_; telling\nthem, it was for their own safety, that he was obliged to give them but\na little at a time; and so feeding them gradually, their bellies were\ncomfortable filled, and the men did very well again. But when they came\nto the poor gentlewoman in the cabin, who for several days had continued\nwithout food, giving what she had to her son, they found her as it were\nin the arms of death. She was sitting upon the floor of the deck, with\nher back up against the sides, between two chairs, which were lashed\nfast, and her head shrunk, between her shoulders, like a senseless\ncorpse. Nothing was wanting in my mate to revive and encourage her;\nopening her lips, and putting some broth into her mouth with a spoon.\nBut not having strength to speak, she lifted up her head with much\ndifficulty, intimating that it was now too late! at the same time\npointing to the youth her son, as though she desired him to do what he\ncould to save the lad; and in a little time after she died.\nThe youth, indeed, was not so far gone; yet lay stretched out on a cabin\nbed, like one that had scarce any life. In his mouth was a piece of an\nold glove, the rest of which he had ate up. At first he vomited what the\nmate had given him; but at length began sensibly to revive, though in\nthe greatest concern for the death of his tender mother.\nAs to the poor maid, she lay by her mistress, like one in the last pangs\nof death: her limbs were distorted, one of her hands were clasped round\nthe frame of a chair, which she grasped so hard, that it was with some\ndifficulty we separated her from it; her other arm lay over her head,\nand her feet lay both together, set fast against the frame of the cabin\ntable; not only being, starved with hunger, but overcome with grief at\nthe loss of her mistress, whom she loved most tenderly. It was a great\nwhile before the surgeon could bring her to life, and a much longer time\nbefore she came to her senses.\nAfter we had sailed with them some days, we sent them five barrels of\nbeef, one of pork, two hogsheads of biscuit, with peas, flour, and other\nthings; taking three casks of sugar, some rum, and some pieces of eight\nas payment, we left them, but took the youth and maid with us, with all\ntheir goods. The lad was about seventeen years old, very handsome,\nmodest, sensible, and well-bred, but mightily concerned for the loss\nof his honoured mother, having lost his father at Barbadoes but a few\nmonths before. He beseeched the surgeon to intercede with me to take him\nout of the ship; for that the sailors, not sparing a small sustenance,\nhad starved his mother. But hunger has no bounds, no right, and\nconsequently is incapable of any compassion. When the surgeon told him,\nour voyage might put him in bad circumstances, and farther from his\nfriends, he said _he did not care, if he was delivered from that terrible\ncrew; that as the Captain_ (meaning me) _had saved him from death, so he\nwas sure he would do him no harm; and, as for the maid, when she was\nrestored to her senses, she would be no less thankful, let us carry them\nwhere we would_. And indeed the surgeon so represented their case to me,\nthat I consented, and took them on board with all their goods, except\neleven hogsheads of sugar; but the youth having a bill of lading, I made\nthe commander oblige himself to deliver a letter and the deceased widow's\ngoods to Mr. Rogers, a merchant in Bristol; but I believe the ship was\nlost at sea, for we never could hear what became of her afterwards. We\nwere now in the latitude 19 deg. 32 min. having as yet a tolerable good\nvoyage. But, passing by several little incidents relating to wind and\nweather, I shall relate what is most remarkable concerning my little\nkingdom, to which I was then drawing near. I had great difficulty in\nfinding it, for as I came to, and went from it before, on the south and\neast side of the island, as coming from the Brazils, so now approaching\nbetween the main and the island, not having any chart for the coast, nor\nland mark, it obliged us to go on shore on several islands in the mouth\nof the river Oroonoko, but to the purpose. Thus I perceived, that what\nI thought was a continent before, was no such thing, but a long island,\nor rather a ridge of sands. On one of these islands I found some\nSpaniards, but they belonged to the isle of Trinidad, who came hither\nin a sloop to make salt, and try to find some pearl muscles. But at\nlength I came fair on the south side of my island, and there I\npresently knew the countenance of my little kingdom; so we brought the\nship safe to an anchor, broadside within the creek, where stood my\nancient and venerable castle.\nNo sooner did I see the place, but calling for Friday, I asked him where\nhe was? But when he looked a little, he clapped his hands, crying, _O\njoy, O there, O yes, O there!_ pointing to our old abode, and then fell\na dancing and capering as if he was mad, and I had much ado to keep him\nfrom jumping into the sea, to swim ashore. 'Friday,' said I, 'what do you\nthink, shall we go to see your father?' at the mentioning his father's\nname, the poor affectionate creature fell a-weeping: _No, no,_ says he,\n_me see him no more, never see poor father more! he long ago die, die\nlong ago: he much old man._ 'You don't know that,' said I, 'but shall we\nsee anybody else?' He looks about, and pointing to the hill above my\nhouse, cries out, _We see, we see there much men and there_: which,\nthough I could not perceive them with my perspective glass, was true,\nby what the men themselves told me the next day.\nWhen the English ancient was spread, and three guns fired, as a signal\nof friendship, we perceived a smoke rise from the creek; upon which I\nordered the boat out, taking Friday with me, and hanging out a white\nflag of truce, I went on shore, accompanied also by the young friar, to\nwhom I had related the history of the first part of my life; besides we\nhad sixteen men well armed, in case we had met with any opposition.\nAfter we had rowed directly into the creek, the first man I fixed my eye\nupon was the Spaniard, whose life I had saved, and whose face I\nperfectly well knew. I ordered them all to stay in the boat for a while:\nbut Friday, perceiving his father at a distance, would have jumped into\nthe sea, had they not let the boat go. No sooner was he on shore, but he\nflew like a swift arrow out of a bow to embrace his aged father.\nCertainly it would melt a man of the firmest resolution into the softest\ntears to see with what uncommon transports of joy he saluted him; he\nfirst kissed him, then stroked his face, took him in his arms, laid him\nunder a shady tree, sat down by him, then looked as earnestly at him as\none could do at a picture, for a quarter of an hour together. After this\nhe would lie upon the ground, stroke his legs and kiss them, then get up\nand stare at him, as though he was bewitched; but the next day one could\nnot forbear laughter to see his behaviour, for he would walk several\nhours with his father along the shore, leading him by the hand as tho'\nhe was a lady; while, every now and then, he would run to the boat to\nget something for him, as a lump of sugar, dram, biscuit, or something\nor other that was good. His frolics ran in another channel in the\nafternoon; when he set old Friday on the ground, he would dance round\nhim, making comical postures and gestures; and all this while would be\ntelling him one story or another of his travels and adventures.\nIt was on the 10th of April, _anno_ 1695, that I set my foot upon the\nisland a second time. When my faithful Spaniard, accompanied by one\nmore, approached the boat, he little knew who I was, till I discovered\nmyself to him. _Seignor_, said I, in Portuguese, _don't you know me_? He\nspoke never a word, but giving his musket to his attendant, extended his\narms, and saying something in Spanish that I did not then understand, he\ncame forward & embraced me, saying, _he was inexcusable not to know his\ndeliverer: who, like an angel sent from heaven, had saved his life_; He\nthen beckoned to the man to call out his companions, asking me if I\nwould walk to my own habitation and take possession, where I should find\nsome mean improvements; but indeed they were extraordinary ones: for\nthey had planted so many trees so close together, that the place was\nlike a labyrinth, which none could find out except themselves, who knew\nits intricate windings. I asked him the meaning of all these\nfortifications? he told me _he would give a large account of what had\npassed since my departure till this time, and how he had subdued some\nEnglish, who thought to be their murderers, hoping I would not be\ndispleased, since necessity compelled them to it_. As I knew they were\nwicked villains, so I told him, that I was not only far from finding\nfault with it, but was rather heartily glad that they had subdued them.\nWhile we were thus talking, the man whom he sent returned, accompanied\nby eleven more, but in such habits, that it was impossible to tell what\nnations they were of. He first turned to me, and pointing to them,\n_These Sir,_ said he, _are some of the gentlemen who owe their lives to\nyour goodness_, then turning to them, and pointing to me, he made them\nsensible who I was; and, then indeed they saluted me one by one, not as\nordinary men, but as tho' they had been ambassadors or noblemen, and I a\ntriumphant conqueror; for their behaviour not only agreed with a\nmanlike, majestic gravity, but at the same time was so obliging and\ncourteous, as made them agreeable to the last degree.\nBefore I relate the history of the transactions of my kingdom, as I had\nit from the Spaniard's own mouth, I must here insert what I omitted in\nmy former relation. The matter is this: Just before we weighed anchor\nand set sail, there happened a quarrel on board the ship, which had like\nto have occasioned a second mutiny, till such time the courageous\nCapitan, taking two of the most refractory prisoners, laid them in irons\nthreatening, as they were concerned in the former disorders, so have\nthem hanged in England for running away with the ship. This frightened\nsome of the rest, as thinking the Captain would serve them in the same\nmanner, though he seemed to give them good word for the present. But the\nmate having intelligence of this, mad me acquainted with their fears; so\nthat to make them more easy, and ourselves more safe from their\nconspiracies I was obliged to go down, and pass my honour's word for it,\nthat upon their good behaviour, all that was past should be forgiven; in\ntestimony of which, I ordered the two men's irons to be taken off; &\nthemselves forgiven. But as this had brought us to an anchor that night,\nin which there was a calm; the two men that had been in irons stole each\nof them a musket, and some other weapons, and taking the ship's pinnace,\nnot yet hauled up, ran away to their brother rogues. The next morning we\nsent the long-boat with men to pursue them, but all in vain; the mate,\nin revenge, would have demolished my little castle, burnt his furniture\nand destroyed their plantations, but having no orders for it, he did not\nput it in execution. And thus there were five Englishmen in the island,\nwhich caused great differences, as my faithful Spaniard gave me a\nperfect account of, in the following manner:\nYou cannot, Sir, but remember the embassy you sent me about, and what a\ndisappointment we met with, by your absence, at our return. There is but\nlittle variety in the relation of all our voyage, being blessed with\ncalm weather and a smooth sea. Great indeed was the joy of my countrymen\nto see me alive, having acted as the principal man on board, the captain\nof the shipwrecked vessel dying before; nor was their surprise less, as\nknowing I was taken prisoner by the savages of another nation, they had\nthought me long since entombed in their monstrous bowels. But when I\nshowed them the arms, ammunition, and provisions I had brought for them,\nthey looked upon me as a second Joseph advanced in Pharoah's court, and\nimmediately prepared to come along with me. Indeed they were obliged to\ntrespass upon their friendly savages, by borrowing two of their canoes,\nunder a pretext for fishing; and they came away the next morning, but\nwithout any provisions of their own, except a few roots which served\nthem instead of bread. After three weeks absence we arrived at our\nhabitation. Here we met with three English sailors, who, I confess, gave\nus provisions, and that letter of direction you had left for us, which\ninformed us how to bring up tame goats, plant corn, cure grapes, make\npots, and, in short, every thing that was necessary for our life. As, in\nparticular, I knew your method best, so taking Friday's father to assist\nme, we managed all the affairs; nor were the rest of the Spaniards\nwanting in their kind offices, dressing food for the Englishmen, who did\nnothing but ramble and divert themselves in the woods, either shooting\nparrots, or catching tortoises. But we had not been long ashore, before\nwe were informed of two more Englishmen, unnaturally turned out of their\ncommon place of residence, by the three others above mentioned; this\nmade my Spaniards and me (whom they now looked upon as their governor in\nyour absence) endeavour to persuade them to take them in, that we might\nbe as one family; but all our intreaties were in vain, so that the poor\nfellows finding nothing to be done without industry, pitched their tents\non the north side of the island, a little inclining to the west, for\nfear of savages. Here they built two huts, one to lodge, and the other\nto lay their stores in; for my good natured Spaniards giving them some\nseeds, they dug and planted as I had done, and began to live prettily.\nBut while they were thus comfortably going on, the three unnatural\nbrutes, their countrymen, in a mere bullying humour, insulted them by\nsaying, 'the governor (meaning you) had given them a possession of the\nisland, and d-mn 'em they should build no houses upon their ground,\nwithout paying rent.' The two honest men (for so let me now distinguish\nthem) thought their three countrymen only jested, and one of them\ninvited them in, to see their fine habitations; while the other\nfacetiously told them 'that since they built tenements with great\nimprovements, they should, according to the custom of lords, give them\na longer lease;' at the same time desiring them to fetch a scriviner to\ndraw the writings. One of these wretches swearing _he should pay for the\njest_, snatches up a fire brand, and clapping it to the outside of their\nhut, very fairly set it on fire, which would soon have consumed it, had\nnot the honest man thrust him away, and trod it with his feet. Hereupon\nthe fellow returns with his pole, with which he would have ended his\ndays, had not the poor man avoided the blow when fetching his musket, he\nknocked down the villain that began the quarrel. The other two coming to\nassist their fellow, obliged the honest man to take his musket also, and\nboth of them presenting their pieces bid the villains stand off; and if\nthey did not lay down their arms, death should decide the dispute one\nway or other. This brought them to a parley, in which they agreed to\ntake their wounded man and begone; but they were in the wrong that they\ndid not disarm them when they had the power, and then make their\ncomplaint to me and my Spaniards for justice, which might have prevented\ntheir farther designs against them. And indeed so many trespass did they\nafterwards commit, by treading down their corn, shooting their young\nkids and goats, and plaguing them night and day, that they resolved to\ncome to my castle, challenge all the three, and decide their right by\none plain battle, while the Spaniards stood by to see fair play. One day\nit happened, that two of my Spaniards (one of whom understood English)\nbeing in the woods, were met by one of the honest men, who complained\nhow barbarous their countrymen had been in destroying their corn,\nkilling their milk-goat and three kids, which deprived them of their\nsubsistence; and that if we did not grant them relief, they must be\ninevitably starved, and so they parted; but when my Spaniards came home\nat night, and supper being on the table, one of them began to reprehend\nthe Englishmen, but in a very mannerly way; which they resenting,\nreplied, _What business had their countrymen in that place without\nleave, when it was none of their ground? Why_, said my Spaniard, calmly,\n_Inglise, they must not starve:_ but they replied, _Let them starve and\nbe damn'd, they should neither plant nor build, and damn them, they\nshould be their servants, and work for them, for the island was their's,\nand they would burn all the huts they should find in the island. By this\nrule_, said my Spaniard, smiling, _We shall be your servants too. Aye,\nby God, and so you shall_ replied the impudent rascal. Upon which,\nstarting up, Will Atkins cries, _Come Jack, let's have t'other brush\nwith them; who dare to build in our dominions?_--Thus leaving us\nsomething heated with just passion, away they trooped, every man having\na gun, pistol, and sword, muttering some threatening words, that we\ncould then but imperfectly understand. That night they designed to\nmurder their two companions, and slept till midnight in the bower,\nthinking to fall upon them in their sleep: not were the honest men less\nthoughtful concerning them; for at this juncture they were coming to\nfind them out, but in a much fairer way. As soon as the villains came to\nthe huts, and found nobody there, they concluded that I and my Spaniard\nhad given them notice, and therefore swore to be revenged on us. Then\nthey demolished the poor men's habitations; not by fire, as they\nattempted before, but pulled down their houses, limb from limb, not\nleaving stick nor stone on the ground where they stood, broke their\nhousehold stuff in pieces, tore up their trees, spoiled their\ninclosures, and, in short, quite ruined them of every thing they had.\nHad these people met together, no doubt but there would have been a\nbloody battle; but Providence ordered it for the better; for just as the\nthree were got together the two were at our castle; and when they left\nus, the three came back again, but in great rage, scoffingly telling us\nwhat they had done; when one taking hold of a Spaniard's hat, twirls it\nround, saying, _And you Seignor Jack Spaniard, shall have the same\nsauce, if you don't mind your manners_. My Spaniard, a grave but\ncourageous man, knocked him down with one blow of his fist; at which\nanother villain fired his pistol, and narrowly missed his body, but\nwounded him a little in the ear. Hereat enraged, the Spaniard takes up\nthe fellow's musket who he had knocked down, and would have shot him, if\nI and the rest had not come out, and taken their arms from every one\nof them.\n\"These Englishmen perceiving they had made all of us their enemies,\nbegan to cool; but not withstanding their better words the Spaniards\nwould not return them their arms again, telling them, 'they would do\nthem no manner of harm, if they would live peaceably; but if they\noffered any injury to the plantation or castle, they would shoot them as\nthey would do ravenous beasts. This made them so mad, that they went\naway raging like furies of hell. They were no sooner gone, but in came\nthe two honest men, fired with the justest rage, if such can be, having\nbeen ruined as aforesaid. And indeed it was very hard, that nineteen of\nus should be bullied by three villains, continually offending\nwith impunity.\n\"It was a great while, Sir, before we could persuade the two Englishmen\nfrom pursuing, and undoubtedly killing them with their fire-arms; but we\npromised them 'justice should be done them, and, in the mean time, they\nshould reside with us in our habitation.' In about five days after,\nthese three vagrants, almost starved with hunger, drew near our grove,\nand perceiving me, the governor, & two others walking by the side of the\ncreek, they very submissively desired to be received into the family\nagain. We told them of 'their great incivility to us, and of their\nunnatural barbarity to their countrymen; but yet we would see what the\nrest agreed to, and in half an hour's time would bring them word.'\nAfter some debate, we called them in, where their two countrymen laid a\nheavy charge against them, for not only ruining, but designing to murder\nthem, which they could not deny. But here I was forced to interpose as a\nmediator, by obliging the two Englishmen not to hurt them, being naked &\nunarmed, and that the other three should make them restitution, by\nbuilding their two huts, and fencing their ground in the same manner as\nit was before. Well, being in a miserable condition, they submitted to\nthis at present, and lived some time regularly enough, except as to the\nworking part, which they did not care for, but the Spaniards would have\ndispensed with that, had they continued easy and quiet. Their arms being\ngiven them again, they scarce had them a week when they became as\ntroublesome as ever; but an accident happening soon after, obliged us to\nlay aside private resentments, and look to our common preservation.\n\"One night, Sir, I went to bed, perfectly well in health, and yet by no\nmeans could I compose myself to sleep; upon which, being very uneasy, I\ngot up and looked out, but it being dark, I could perceive nothing but\nthe trees around the castle. I went to bed again, but it was all one, I\ncould not sleep; when one of my Spaniards, hearing me walk about, asked\nwho it was up? I answered, _It is I_. When I told him the occasion,\n_Sir_, said he, _such things are not to be slighted; for certainly there\nis some mischief plotting against us. Where are the Englishmen?_ said I.\nHe answered _In their huts_; for they lay separate from us, Sir, since\nthe last mutiny. _Well,_ said I, _some kind spirit gives this\ninformation for advantage. Come let us go abroad, and see if any thing\noffers to justify our fears._ Upon which I and some of my Spaniards went\nup the mountain, not by the ladder, but through the grove, and then we\nwere struck with a panic fear on seeing a light, as though it were a\nfire, at a very little distance, and hearing the voices of several men.\nHereupon we retreated immediately, and raised the rest of our forces,\nand made them sensible of the impending danger; but with all my\nauthority, I could not make them stay where they were, so earnest were\nthey to see how things went. Indeed the darkness of the night gave them\nopportunity enough to view them by the light of the fire undiscovered.\nAs they were in different parties, and straggling over the shore, we\nwere much afraid that they should find out our habitations, and destroy\nour flocks of goats: to prevent which, we sent immediately an Englishman\nand two Spaniards to drive the goats into the valley where the cave lay;\nor, if there was occasion, into the cave itself: As to ourselves,\nresuming our native courage and prudent conduct, had we not been\ndivided, we durst venture to attack an hundred of them; but before it\nwas very light, we resolved to send out Friday's father as a spy, who,\nimmediately stripping himself naked, gets among them undiscovered, and\nin two hours time brings word, that 'they were two parties of two\ndifferent nations, who lately having a bloody battle with one another,\nhappened to land by mere chance on the same island, to devour their\nmiserable prisoners; that they were entirely ignorant of any person's\ninhabiting here; but rather filled with rage and fury against one\nanother, he believed, that as soon as day light appeared, there would be\na terrible engagement.' Old Friday had scarce ended his relation, when\nwe heard an uncommon noise, and perceived that there was a horrid\nengagement between the two armies.\n\"Such was the curiosity of our party, especially the Englishmen, that\nthey would not lie close, tho' Old Friday told them, 'their safety\ndepended upon it; and that if we had patience, we should behold the\nsavages kill one another.' However they used some caution, by going\nfarther into the woods, and placing themselves in a convenient place to\nbehold the battle.\n\"Never could there be a more bloody engagement, or men of more\ninvincible spirits and prudent conduct, according to their manner and\nway of fighting. It lasted near two hours, till the party which was\nnearest our castle began to decline, and at last to fly from their\nconquerors. We were undoubtedly put into a great consternation on this\naccount, lest they should run into our grove, and consequently bring us\ninto the like danger. Hereupon we resolved to kill the first that came,\nto prevent discovery, and that too with our swords, and the butt end of\nour muskets, for fear the report of our guns should be heard.\n\"And so indeed, as we thought, it happened; for three of the vanquished\narmy crossing the creek, ran directly to the place, as to a thick wood\nfor shelter; nor was it long before our scout gave us notice of it: as\nalso, that the victors did not think fit to pursue them. Upon this I\nwould not suffer them to be slain, but had them surprised and taken by\nour party; afterwards they proved very good servants to us, being stout\nyoung creatures, and able to do a great deal of work. The remainder of\nthe conquered savages fled to their canoes, and put out into the ocean,\nwhile the conquerors, joining together, shouted by way of triumph, and\nabout three in the afternoon they also embarked for their own nation.\nThus we were freed at once from these savages and our fears, not\nperceiving any of these creatures for some considerable time after. We\nfound two and thirty men dead in the field of battle; some were slain\nwith long arrows, which we found sticking in their bodies; & the rest\nwere killed with great unwieldy wooden swords, which denoted their vast\nstrength, and of which we found seventeen, besides bows and arrows: but\nwe could not find one wounded creature among them alive; for they either\nkill their enemies quite, or carry those wounded away with them.\n\"This terrible fight tamed the Englishmen for some time, considering\nhow unfortunate they might have been had they fallen into their hands,\nwho would not only kill them as enemies, but also for food, as we do\ncattle; and indeed so much did this nauseate their stomachs, that it not\nonly made them very sick, but more tractable to the common necessary\nbusiness of the whole society, planting, sowing, and reaping, with the\ngreatest signs of amity and friendship; so, that being now all good\nfriends, we began to consider of circumstances in general; and the first\nthing we thought of was, whether, as we perceived the savages haunted\nthat side of the island, and there being more retired parts of it, and\nyet as well suited to our manner of living, and equally to our\nadvantage, we ought not rather to move our place of residence, & plant\nit in a much safer place, both for the security of our corn and cattle.\n\"After a long debate on this head; it was resolved, or rather voted,\n_nemine comradicente_, not to remove our ancient castle, and that for\nthis very good reason, that some time or other we expected to hear from\nour supreme governor, (meaning you, Sir) whose messengers not finding us\nthere, might think the place demolished, and all his subjects destroyed\nby the savages.\n\"As to the next concern relating to our corn and cattle, we consented to\nhave them removed to the valley where the cave was, that being most\nproper and sufficient for both. But yet when we considered farther, we\naltered one part of our resolution, which was to remove part of our\ncattle thither and plant only part of our corn there; so that in case\none part was destroyed, the other might be preserved. Another resolution\nwe took, which really had a great deal of prudence in it; and that was,\nin not trusting the three savages whom we had taken prisoners, with any\nknowledge of the plantations we had made in the valley, of what number\nof cattle we had there, much less of the cave, wherein we kept several\narms, and two barrels of powder you left for us at your departure from\nthis island. But though we could not change our habitation, we resolved\nto make it more fortified and more secret. To this end, Sir, as you\nplanted trees at some distance before the entrance of your palace; so\nwe, imitating your example, planted and filled up the whole space of\nground, even to the banks of the creek, nay, into the very ooze where\nthe tide flowed, not leaving a place for landing; and among those I had\nplanted, they had intermingled so many short ones, all of which growing\nwonderfully fast and thick, a little dog could scarcely find a passage\nthrough them. Nor was this sufficient, as we thought, for we did the\nsame to all the ground, on the right and left hand of us, even to the\ntop of the hill, without so much as leaving a passage for ourselves,\nexcept by the ladder; which being taken down, nothing but what had\nwings or witchcraft could pretend to come near us. And indeed this was\nexceedingly well-contrived, especially to serve that occasion for which\nwe afterwards found it necessary.\n\"Thus we lived two years in a happy retirement, having, all this time,\nnot one visit from the savages. Indeed one morning we had an alarm,\nwhich put us in some amazement; for a few of my Spaniards being out very\nearly, perceived no less than twenty canoes, as it were coming on shore:\nupon which returning home, with great precipitation, they gave us the\nalarm, which obliged us to keep at home all that day and the next, going\nout only in the night-time to make our observations; but, as good luck\nwould have it, they were upon another design, and did not land that time\nupon the island.\n\"But now there happened another quarrel between the three wicked\nEnglishmen, and some of my Spaniards.--- The occasion was this: One of\nthem being enraged at one of the savages, whom he had taken prisoner,\nfor not being able to comprehend something which he was showing him,\nsnatched up a hatchet in a great fury not to correct, but to kill him;\nyet missing his head gave him such a barbarous--cut in the shoulder,\nthat he had like to have struck off his arm; at which one of my\ngood-natured Spaniards interposing between the Englishman and the savage\nbeseeched the former, not to murder the poor creature, but this kindness\nhad like to have cost the Spaniard his life, for the Englishman, struck\nat him in the same manner; which he nimbly and wisely avoiding, returned\nsuddenly upon him with his shovel, (being all at work about their corn\nland), and very fairly knocked the brutish creature down. Hereupon\nanother Englishman coming to his fellow's assistance, laid the good\nSpaniard on the earth; when immediately two others coming to his relief\nwere attacked by the third Englishman, armed with an old cutlass, who\nwounded them both. This uproar soon reached our ears, when we rushing\nout upon them, took the three Englishmen prisoners, and then our next\nquestion was, what would be done to such mutinous, and impudent fellows,\nso furious, desperate, and idle, that they were mischievious to the\nhighest degree and consequently not safe for the society to let them\nlive among them.\n\"Now, Sir, as I was governor in your absence, so I also took the\nauthority of a judge, and, having them brought before me; I told them,\nthat if they had been of my country, I would have hanged every mother's\nson of them, but since it was an Englishman (meaning you, kind Sir,) to\nwhom we were indebted for our preservation and deliverance, I would, in\ngratitude, use them with all possible mildness, but at the same time\nleave them to the judgment of the other two Englishmen who, I hoped,\nforgetting their resentments, would deal impartially by them.'\n\"Hereupon one of his countrymen stood up: _Sir_, said he, _leave it not\nfor us, for you may be sensible we have reason to sentence them to the\ngallows: besides, Sir, this fellow, Will Atkins, and the two others,\nproposed to us, that we might murder you all in your sleep, which we\ncould not consent to: but knowing their inability, and your vigilance,\nwe did not think fit to discover it before now._\n\"_How, Signor_, said I, _do you hear what is alledged against you? What\ncan you say to justify so horrid an action, as to murder us in cold\nblood?_ So far, Sir, was the wretch from denying it, that he swore,\n_damn him but he would do it still. But what have we done to you, Seignor\nAtkins_, said I, _or what will you gain by killing us? What shall we do\nto prevent you? Must we kill you, or you kill us? Why will you Seignor\nAtkins,_ said I, smiling, _put us to such an unhappy dilemma, such a\nfatal necessity?_ But so great a rage did my scoffing and yet severe\njest put him into, that he was going to fly at me and undoubtedly had\nattempted to kill me if he had been possessed of weapons, and had not\nbeen prevented by three Spaniards. This unparalleled and villainous\ncarriage, made us seriously consider what was to be done. The two\nEnglishmen and the Spaniard, who had saved the poor Indian's life,\nmightily petitioned me to hang one of them, for an example to the\nothers, which should be him that had twice attempted to commit murder\nwith his hatchet, it being at that time thought impossible the poor\nslave should recover. But they could never gain my consent to put him to\ndeath, for the reasons above mentioned, since it was an Englishman (even\nyourself) who was my deliverer; and as merciful counsels are most\nprevailing when earnestly pressed, so I got them to be of the same\nopinion as to clemency. But to prevent them doing us any farther\nmischief; we all agreed, that they should have no weapons, as sword,\ngun, powder, or shot, but be expelled from the society, to live as they\npleased by themselves; that neither the two Englishmen, nor the rest of\nthe Spaniards, should have conversation with them upon any account\nwhatsoever; that they should be kept from coming within a certain\ndistance of our castle; and if they dared to offer us any violence,\neither by spoiling, burning, killing, or destroying any of the corn,\nplantings, buildings, fences, or cattle, belonging to the society, we\nwould shoot them as freely as we would do beasts of prey, in whatsoever\nplaces we should find them.\n\"This sentence seemed very just to all but themselves; when, like a\nmerciful judge, I called out to the two honest Englishmen, saying, _You\nmust consider they ought not to be starved neither: and since it will be\nsome time before they can raise corn and cattle of their own, let us\ngive them some corn to last them eight months, and for seed to sow, by\nwhich time they'll raise some for themselves; let us also bestow upon\nthem six milch goats, four he ones, and six kids, as well for their\npresent support, as for a further increase; with tools necessary for\ntheir work, as hatchets, an ax, saw, and other things convenient to\nbuild them huts:_ all which were agreed: but before they took them into\npossession, I obliged them solemnly to swear, never to attempt any thing\nagainst us, or their countrymen for the future. Thus dismissing them\nfrom our society, They went away, sullen & refractory, as though neither\nwilling to go nor stay; however seeing no remedy, they took what\nprovision was given them, proposing to choose a convenient place where\nthey might live by themselves.\n\"About five days after, they came to those limits appointed, in order\nfor more victuals, and sent me word by one of my Spaniards, whom they\ncalled to, where they had pitched their tents; and marked themselves out\nan habitation and plantation, at the N.E. and most remote part of the\nisland. And, indeed, there they built themselves two very handsome\ncottages, resembling our little castle, being under the side of a\nmountain, with some trees already growing on three sides of it; so that\nplanting a few more, it would be obscured from sight, unless\nparticularly sought for. When these huts were finished, we gave them\nsome dry goat-skins for bedding and covering; & upon their giving us\nfuller assurances of their good behaviour for the future, we gave them\nsome pease, barley, and rice for sowing and whatever tools we\ncould spare.\n\"Six months did they live in this separate condition, in which they got\ntheir first harvest in, the quantity of which was but small, because\nthey had planted but little land; for, indeed, all their plantations\nbeing to form, made it more difficult; especially as it was a thing out\nof their element; and when they were obliged to make their boards and\npots, &c. they could make little or nothing of it. But the rainy season\ncoming on, put them into a greater perplexity for want of a cave to keep\ntheir corn dry, and prevent it from spoiling: and so much did this\nhumble them, that they begged of my Spaniards to help them, to which the\ngood-natured men readily consented, and in four days space, worked a\ngreat hole in the side of the hill for them, large enough for their\npurpose, to secure their corn and other things from the rain, though not\ncomparable to ours, which had several additional appartments.\n\"But a new whim possessed these rogues about three quarters of a year\nafter, which had like to have ruined us, and themselves too: for it\nseems, being tired and weary of this sort of living, which made them\nwork for themselves, without hopes of changing their condition, nothing\nwould serve them, but that they would make a voyage to the continent,\nand try if they could seize upon some of the savages, and bring them\nover as slaves, to do their drudgery, while they lived at ease\nand pleasure.\n\"Indeed the project was not so preposterous, if they had not gone\nfarther; but they neither did, nor proposed any thing, but what had\nmischief in the design, or the event. One morning, these three fellows\ncame down to the limited station, and humbly desired to be admitted to\ntalk with us, which we readily granted; they told us in short, that\n_being tired of their manner of living, and the labour of their hands in\nsuch employments, not being sufficient to procure the necessaries of\nlife, they only desired one of the canoes we came over in, with some\narms and ammunition for their defence, and they would seek their\nfortunes abroad, and never trouble us any more._ To be sure we were glad\nenough to get rid of such wretched plagues; but yet honesty made us\ningenuously represent to them, by what we ourselves had suffered, the\ncertain destruction they were running into, either of being starved to\ndeath or murdered by the savages. To this they very audaciously replied,\n_that they neither could nor would work: and consequently that they\nmight as well be starved abroad as at home: & neither had they any wives\nor children to cry after them: nay, so intent were they upon their\nvoyage, that if the Spaniards had not given them arms, so they had but\nthe canoe they would have gone without them._\n\"Though we could not well spare our fire arms, rather than they should\ngo like naked men, we let them have two muskets, a pistol, a cutlass,\nand three hatchets, which were thought very sufficient: we gave them\nalso goat's flesh, a great basket full of dried grapes, a pot of fresh\nbutter, a young live kid, and a large canoe sufficient to carry twenty\nmen. And thus, with a mast made of a long pole, and a sail of six large\ngoat-skins dried, having a fair breeze, and a flood-tide with them, they\nmerrily sailed away, the Spaniards calling after them, _Bon voyaje_, no\nman ever expecting to see them more.\n\"When they were gone, the Spaniards and Englishmen would often say to\none another, _O how peaceably do we now live, since these turbulent\nfellows have left us!_ Nothing could be farther from their thoughts than\nto behold their faces any more; and yet scarce two and twenty days had\npassed over their heads, but one of the Englishmen, being abroad a\nplanting, perceived at a distance, three men well armed, approaching\ntowards him. Away he flies with speed to our castle, and tells me and\nthe rest, that we were all undone, for that strangers were landed upon\nthe island, and who they were he could not tell; but added that they\nwere not savages but men habited, bearing arms. _Why then,_ said I, _we\nhave the less occasion to be concerned, since, if they were not Indians,\nthey must be friends; for I am sure there is no Christian people upon\nearth, but what will do us good rather than harm._ But while we were\nconsidering of the event, up came the three Englishmen, whose voices we\nquickly knew, and so all our admiration of that nature ceased at once.\nAnd our wonder was succeeded by another sort of inquiry, which was, what\ncould be the occasion of their returning so quickly to the island, when\nwe little expected, and much less desired their company? But as this was\nbetter to be related by themselves, I ordered them to be brought in,\nwhen they gave me the following relation of their voyage.\n\"After two days sail, or something less, they reached land, where they\nfound the people coming to give them another sort of reception than what\nthey expected or desired; for, as the savages were armed with bows and\narrows, they durst not venture on shore, but steered northward, six or\nseven hours, till they gained an opening, by which they plainly\nperceived, that the land that appeared from this place, was not the main\nland, but an island. At their entrance into the opening of the sea, they\ndiscovered another island, on the right hand northward, and several more\nlying to the westward; but being resolved to go on shore some where or\nother, they put over to one of the western islands. Here they found the\nnatives very courteous to them, giving them several roots and dried\nfish; nay, even their women too were as willing to supply them with what\nthey could procure them to eat, bringing it a great way to them upon\ntheir heads. Among these hospitable Indians they continued some days,\ninquiring by signs and tokens, what nations lay around them; and were\ninformed, that there were, several fierce and terrible people lived\nevery way, accustomed to eat mankind; but for themselves they never used\nsuch diet, except those that were taken in battle, and of them they made\na solemn feast.\n\"The Englishmen inquired how long it was since they had a feast of that\nkind? They answered, _about two moons ago_, pointing to the moon, and\nthen two fingers; that, _at this time, their king had two hundred\nprisoners, which were fattening up for the slaughter_. The Englishmen\nwere mighty desirous of seeing the prisoners, which the others\nmistaking, thought that they wanted some of them for their own food:\nupon which they beckoned to them, pointing to the rising, and then to\nthe setting of the sun; meaning, that by the time it appeared in the\neast next morning, they would bring them some: and indeed they were as\ngood as their word; for by that time they brought eleven men & five\nwomen, just as so many cows & oxen are brought to sea-port towns to\nvictual a ship. But as brutish as these Englishmen were, their stomachs\nturned at the sight. What to do in this case, they could not tell: to\nrefuse the prisoner, would have been the highest affront offered to the\nsavage gentry; and to dispose of them, they knew not, in what manner;\nhowever, they resolved to accept them, and so gave them, in return, one\nof their hatchets, an old key, a knife, and six or seven of their\nbullets; things which, tho' they were wholly ignorant of, yet of seemed\nentirely contented with; & dragging the poor wretches into the boat,\nwith their hands bound behind them, delivered them to the Englishmen.\nBut this obliged them to put off as soon as they had these presents,\nlest the donors should have expected two or three of them to be killed,\nand to be invited to dinner the next day; and so taking leave with all\npossible respect and thanks, though neither of them understood what the\nothers said, they sailed away back to the first island, and there set\neight of the prisoners at liberty. In their voyage they endeavoured to\ncomfort, and have some conversation with the poor captives; but it was\nimpossible to make them sensible of any thing; and nothing they could\nsay or give, or do for them, could make them otherwise persuaded, but\nthat they were unbound only to be devoured: if they gave them any food,\nthey thought it was only to fatten them for the slaughter; or looked at\nany one more particularly, the poor creature supposed itself to be the\n'first sacrifice'; and even when we brought them to our island, and\nbegan to use them with the greatest humanity and kindness, yet they\nexpected every day that their new masters would devour them.\n\"And thus, Sir, did these three strange wanderers conclude their\nunaccountable relation of their voyage, which was both amazing and\nentertaining. Hereupon, I asked them, where there new family was? They\ntold me _they had put them into one of their huts, and they came to beg\nsome victuals for them_. This, indeed, made us all long to see them; and\ntaking Friday's father with us, leaving only two at our castle, we came\ndown to behold these poor creatures.\n\"When we arrived at the hut, (they being bound again by the Englishmen,\nfor fear of escaping) we found them stark naked, expecting their fatal\ntragedy: there were three lusty men, well shaped, with straight and good\nlimbs, between thirty and five and thirty years old; and five women, two\nof them might be from thirty to forty, two more not above four and\ntwenty; and the last, a comely tall maiden of about seventeen. Indeed,\nall the women were very agreeable, both in proportion and features,\nexcept that they were tawny, which their modest behaviour, and other\ngraces, made amends for, when they afterwards came to be clothed.\n\"This naked appearance, together with their miserable circumstances, was\nno very comfortable sight to my Spaniards, who, for their parts, I may\nventure, Sir, without flattery, to say, are men of the best behaviour,\ncalmest tempers, and sweetest nature, that can possibly be; for they\nimmediately ordered Friday's father to see if he knew any of them, or if\nhe understood what they could say. No sooner did the old Indian appear,\nbut he looked at them with great seriousness; yet, as they were not of\nhis nation, they were utter strangers to him, and none could understand\nhis speech or signs, but one woman. This was enough to answer the\ndesign, which was to assure them they would not be killed, being fallen\ninto the hands of Christians, who abhorred such barbarity. When they\nwere fully satisfied of this, they expressed their joy by such strange\ngestures, and uncommon tones, as it is not possible for me to describe.\nBut the woman their interpreter, was ordered next to enquire, whether\nthey were content to be servants, and would work for the men who had\nbrought them hither to save their lives? Hereupon, (being at this time\nunbound) they fell a capering and dancing, one taking this thing upon\nher shoulders, and the other that, intimating, that they were willing to\ndo any thing for them. But now, Sir, having women among us, and dreading\nthat it might occasion some strife, if not blood, I asked the three men\n'what they would do, and how they intended to use these creatures,\nwhether as servants or women?' One of them very pertly and readily\nanswered, 'they would use them as both,' _Gentlemen_, said I _as you are\nyour own masters, I am not going to restrain you from that; but\nmethinks, for avoiding dissentions among you, I would only desire you to\nengage, that none of you will take more than one for a woman or wife,\nand that having taken this one, none else should presume to touch her;\nfor though we have not yet a priestly authority to marry you, yet it is\nbut reasonable, that whoever thus takes a woman, should be obliged to\nmaintain her, since nobody has any thing to do with her_; and this,\nindeed, appeared so just to all present, that it was unanimously agreed\nto. The Englishmen then asked my Spaniards, 'whether they designed to\ntake any of them? but they all answered, _No_; some declaring they had\nalready wives in Spain; and others that they cared not to join with\ninfidels. On the reverse, the Englishmen took each of them a temporary\nwife, and so set up a new method of living. As to Friday's father, the\nSpaniards, and the three savage servants we had taken in the late\nbattle, they all lived with me in our ancient castle; and indeed we\nsupplied the main part of the island with food, as necessity required.\nBut the most remarkable part of the story is, how these Englishmen, who\nhad been so much at variance, should agree about the choice of those\nwomen; yet they took a way good enough to prevent quarreling among\nthemselves. They let the five women in one of their huts, and going\nthemselves to the other, drew lots which should have the first choice.\nNow, he that had the first lot went to the hut, and fetched out her he\nchose; and it is remarkable, that he took her that was the most homely\nand eldest of the number, which made the rest of the Englishmen\nexceedingly merry; the Spaniards themselves could not help but smile at\nit; but as it happened, the fellow had the best thought, in choosing\none fit for application and business; and indeed she proved the best\nwife of all the parcel.\n\"But when the poor creatures perceived themselves placed in a row, and\nseparated one by one, they were again seized with an unspeakable terror,\nas now thinking they were going to be slain in earnest; and when the\nEnglishmen came to take the first, the rest set up a lamentable cry,\nclasped their arms around her neck, and hanging about her, took their\nlast farewell, as they thought, in such trembling agonies, and\naffectionate embraces, as would have softened the hardest heart in the\nworld, and made the driest eyes melt into tears; nor could they be\npersuaded but that they were going to die, till such time as Friday's\nfather made them sensible that the Englishmen had chosen them for their\nwives, which ended all their terror and concern upon this occasion.\n\"Well, after this, the Englishmen went to work, and being assisted by my\ngood natured Spaniards, in a few hours they, erected every one of them a\nnew hut or tent for their separate lodging, since those they had already\nwere, filled with tools, household stuff, and provision. They all\ncontinued on the north shore of the island, but separate as before; the\nthree wicked ones pitching farther off, and the two honest men nearer\nour castle; so that the island seemed to be peopled in three places,\nthree towns beginning to be built for that purpose. And here I cannot\nbut remark, what is very common, that the two honest men had the worst\nwives, (I mean as to industry, cleanliness, and ingenuity) while the\nthree reprobates enjoyed women of quite contrary qualities.\n\"But another observation I made was, in favour of the two honest men, to\nshow what disparity there is between a diligent application to business,\non the one hand, and a slothful negligent, and idle temper, on the\nother. Both of them had the same parcel of ground laid out, and corn to\nsow, sufficient either in their cultivation or their planting. The two\nhonest men had a multitude of young trees planted about their\nhabitations, so that when you approached near them, nothing appeared but\na wood, very pleasing and delightful. Every thing they did prospered and\nflourished: their grapes, planted in order, seemed as though managed in\na vineyard and were infinitely preferable to any of the others. Nor were\nthey wanting to find out a place of retreat, but dug a cave in the most\nretired part of a thick wood, to secure their wives and children, with\ntheir provision and chiefest goods, surrounded with innumerable stakes,\nand having a most subtle entrance, in case any mischief should happen\neither from their fellow countrymen, or the devouring savages.\n\"As to the reprobates, (though I must own they were much more civilized\nthan before) instead of delightful wood surrounding their dwellings, we\nfound the words of King Solomon too truly verified: _I went by the\nvineyard of the slothful, and it was all overgrown with thorns_. In many\nplaces their crop was obliterated by weeds: the hedges having several\ngaps in them, the wild goats had got in, and eaten up the corn, and here\nand there was a dead bush to stop these gaps for the present, which was\nno more than shutting the stable door after the steed was stolen away.\nBut as to their wives, they (as I observed before) were more diligent,\nand cleanly enough, especially in their victuals, being instructed by\none of the honest men, who had been a cook's mate on board a ship: &\nvery well it was so, for as he cooked himself, his companion and their\nfamilies lived as well as the idle husbands, who did nothing but loiter\nabout, fetch turtle's eggs, catch fish and birds, and do any thing but\nwork, and lived accordingly; while the diligent lived very handsomely\nand plentifully, in the most comfortable manner.\n\"And now, Sir, I come to lay before your eyes a scene quite different\nfrom any thing that ever happened to us before, and perhaps ever befel\nyou in all the time of your residence on this island. I shall inform you\nof its original in the following manner.\n\"One morning, Sir, very early, there came five or six canoes of Indians\non shore, indisputably upon their old custom of devouring their\nprisoners. All that we had to do upon such an occasion, was to lie\nconcealed, that they, not having any notice of inhabitants, might depart\nquietly after performing their bloody execution: whoever first\ndiscovered the savages, was to give notice to all the three plantations\nto keep within doors, and then a proper scout was to be placed to give\nintelligence of their departure. But notwithstanding these wise\nmeasures, an unhappy disaster discovered us to the savages, which was\nlike to have caused the desolation of the whole island; for, after the\nsavages were gone off in their canoes, some of my Spaniards and I\nlooking abroad; and being inflamed with a curiosity to see what they had\nbeen doing, to our great amazement beheld three savages fast asleep on\nthe ground, who, either being gorged, could not awake when the others\nwent off, or having wandered too far into the woods, did not come\nback in time.\n\"What to do with them as first, we could not tell; as for slaves we had\nenough of them already; and as to killing them, neither Christianity or\nhumanity would suffer us to shed the blood of persons who never did us\nwrong. We perceived they had no boat left them to transport them to\ntheir own nation; and that, by letting them wander about, they might\ndiscover us, and inform the first savages that should happen to land\nupon the same bloody occasion, which information might entirely ruin us;\nand therefore I counselled my Spaniards to secure them, and set them\nabout some work or other, till we could better dispose of them.\n\"Hereupon we all went back, and making them awake, took them prisoners.\nIt is impossible to express the horror they were in, especially when\nbound, as thinking they were going to be murdered and eaten, but we soon\neased them of their fear as to that point. We first took them to the\nbower, where the chief of our country work lay as keeping goats,\nplanting corn, &c and then carried them to the two Englishmen's\nhabitation, to help them in their business; but happy it was for us all\nwe did not carry them to our castle, as by the sequel will appear. The\nEnglishmen, indeed, found them work to do; but whether they did not\nguard them strictly, or that they thought they could not better\nthemselves, I cannot tell; but certainly one of them ran away into the\nwoods, and they could not hear of him for a long time after.\n\"Undoubtedly there was reason enough to suppose he got home in some of\nthe canoes, the savages returning in about four weeks time, and going\noff in the space of two days. You may be certain, Sir, this thought\ncould not but terrify us exceedingly, and make us justly conclude, that\nthe savage would inform his countrymen of our abode in the island, how\nfew and weak we were in comparison to their numbers & we expected it\nwould not be long before the Englishmen would be attacked in their\nhabitations; but the savages had not seen their places of safety in the\nwoods, nor our castle, which it was a great happiness they did not know.\n\"Nor were we mistaken in our thoughts upon this occasion: for, about\neight months after this, six canoes, with about ten men in each canoe,\ncame sailing by the north side of the island, which they were never\naccustomed to do before, and landed about an hour after sunrise, near a\nmile from the dwelling of the two Englishman, who, it seems, had the\ngood fortune to discover them about a league off: to that it was an hour\nbefore they could come at them. And now being confirmed in this opinion\nthat they were certainly betrayed, they immediately bound the two slaves\nwhich were left, causing two of the three men, whom they brought with\nthe women, and who proved very faithful to lead them with their wives,\nand other conveniences, into their retired care in the wood, and there\nto bind the two fellows hand and foot till they had further orders. They\nthen opened their fences, where they kept their milch goats, and drove\nthem all out, giving the goats liberty to ramble in the woods, to make\nthe savages believe that they were wild ones; but the slave had given a\ntruer information, which made them come to the very inclosures. The two\nfrighted men sent the other slave of the three, who had been with them\nby accident, to alarm the Spaniards, and desire their assistance; in\nthe mean time they took their arms and ammunition, and made to the cave\nwhere they had sent their wives, and securing their slaves, seated\nthemselves in a private place, from whence they might behold all the\nactions of the savages. Nor had they gone far, when ascending a rising\nground, they could see a little army of Indians approach to their\nbeautiful dwelling, and in a few moments more, perceive the same, and\ntheir furniture, to their unspeakable grief, burning in a consuming\nflame, and when this war done, they spread here and there, searching\nevery bush and place for the people, of whom it was very evident, they\nhad information. Upon which the two Englishmen, not thinking themselves\nsecure where they stood, retreated about half a mile higher in the\ncountry, rightly concluding, that the farther the savages strolled,\nthere would be less numbers together: upon which they next took their\nstand by the trunk of an old tree, very hollow and large, whence they\nresolved to see what would offer: but they had not stood long there,\nbefore two savages came running directly towards them, as though having\nknowledge of their being there, who seemed resolved to attack them; a\nlittle farther were three more, and five more behind them again, all\nrunning the same way. It cannot be imagined the perplexity the poor men\nwere in at this sight, thinking that if assistance did not speedily come\ntheir cave in the wood would be discovered, and consequently all therein\nlost; so they resolved to resist them there, and, when overpowered, to\nascend to the top of the trees, where they might defend themselves as\nlong as their ammunition lasted, and sell their lives as dear as\npossible to those devouring savages. Thus fixed in their resolution,\nthey next considered, whether they should fire at the first two, or wait\nfor the three, and so take the middle party, by which the two first &\nthe five last would be separated. In this regulation the two savages\nalso confirmed them, by turning a little to another part of the wood:\nbut the three, & the five after them, came directly towards the tree.\nHereupon they resolved to take them in a direct line, as they approached\nnearer, because perhaps the first shot might hit them all three; and\nupon this occasion, the man who was to fire, charged his piece with\nthree or four bullets. And thus while they were waiting, the savages\ncame on, one of them was the runaway, who had caused all the mischief;\nso they resolved he should not escape, if they both fired at once. But,\nhowever, though they did not fire together, they were ready charged;\nwhen the first that let fly, was too good a marksman to miss his aim;\nfor he killed the foremost outright, the second (_who was the runaway\nIndian_) fell to the ground, being shot through the body, but not dead\nand the third was a little wounded in the shoulder, who, sitting down on\nthe ground, fell a screaming in a most fearful manner. The noise of the\nguns, which not only made the most resounding echoes, from one side to\nthe other, but raised the birds of all sorts, fluttering with the most\nconfused noise, so much terrified the five savages behind that they\nstood still at first, like so many inanimate images. But when all things\nwere in profound silence, they came to the place where there companions\nlay; and here, not being sensible that they were liable to the same\nfate, stood over the wounded man, undoubtedly inquiring the occasion of\nthis sad calamity; and 'tis as reasonable to suppose he told them, that\nit came by thunder and lightning from the gods, having never seen or\nheard of a gun before, in the whole course of their lives. By this time\nthe Englishmen, having loaded their pieces, fired both together a second\ntime, when seeing them all fall immediately on the ground, they thought\nthey had killed every creature of them. This made them come up boldly\nbefore they had charged their guns, which indeed was a wrong step; for,\nwhen they came to the place, they found four alive, two of them very\nlittle wounded, and one not at all, which obliged them to fall upon them\nwith their muskets: they first knocked the runaway savage on the head,\nand another that was but a little wounded in the arm, & then put the\nother languishing wretches out of their pain: while he that was not\nhurt, with bended knees and uplifted hands, made piteous moans, and\nsigns to them to spare his life; nor, indeed, were they unmerciful to\nthe poor wretch, but pointed to him to sit down at the root of a tree\nhard by; and then, one of the Englishmen, with a piece of rope twine he\nhad in his pocket, by mere chance, tying his two feet fast together, and\nhis two hands behind him, they left him there, making all the haste they\ncould after the other two, fearing they should find out their cave; but\nthough they could not overtake them, they had the satisfaction to\nperceive them at a distance, cross a valley towards the sea, a quite\ncontrary way to their retreat: upon which they returned to the tree, to\nlook after their prisoner; but when they came there, he was gone,\nleaving the piece of rope-yarn, wherewith he was bound, behind him.\n\"Well, now they were as much concerned as ever, as not knowing how near\ntheir enemies might be, or in what numbers. Immediately they repaired to\nthe cave, to see if all was well there, and found every thing safe,\nexcept the women, who were frightened upon their husbands account, whom\nthey now loved entirely. They had not been long here, before seven of my\nSpaniards came to assist them; while the other ten, their servants, and\nFriday's father, were gone to defend their bower, corn, and cattle, in\ncase the savages should have rambled so far. There accompanied the seven\nSpaniards, one of the three savages that had formerly been taken\nprisoner; and with them also that very Indian whom the Englishmen had,\na little before, left under the tree; for it seems, they passed by that\nway where the slaughter was made, and so carried along with them that\npoor wretch that was left bound. But so many prisoners now becoming a\nburthen to us, and fearing the dreadful consequence of their escaping,\nmost of the Spaniards and English urged the absolute necessity there was\nof killing them for our common preservation; but, Sir, the authority I\nbore, as a governor, over-ruled that piece of cruelty; and then I\nordered them to be sent prisoners to the old cave in the valley, bound\nhands and feet, with two Spaniards to guard them.\n\"So much encouraged were the Englishmen at the approach of the\nSpaniards, and so great was their fury against the savages for\ndestroying their habitations, that they had not patience to stay any\nlonger; but, taking five Spaniards along with them, armed with four\nmuskets, a pistol, and a quarter staff, away they went in pursuit of\ntheir enemies. As they passed by the place where the savages were slain,\nit was very easy to be perceived that more of them had been there,\nhaving attempted to carry off their dead bodies, but found it\nimpracticable. From a rising ground our party had the mortification to\nsee the smoke that proceeded from their ruins; when coming farther in\nflight of the shore, they plainly perceived that the savages had\nembarked in their canoes, and were putting out to sea. This they were\nvery sorry for, there being no coming at them to give them a parting\nsalute, but however, they were glad enough to get clear of such\nunwelcome guests.\n\"Thus the two honest, but unfortunate Englishmen, being ruined a second\ntime, and their improvements quite destroyed, most of my good natured\nSpaniards helped them to rebuild, and we all assisted them with needful\nsupplies; nay, what is more remarkable, their three mischievous\ncountrymen, when they heard of it _(which was after all these disasters\nwere over, they living more remote eastward)_ very friendly sympathised\nwith them, and worked for them several days; so that, in a little, their\nhabitations were rebuilt, their necessities supplied, and themselves\nrestored to their former tranquility.\n\"Though the savages had nothing to boast of in this adventure, _(several\ncanoes being driven ashore, followed by two drowned creatures, having\nundoubtedly met with a storm at sea that very night they departed)_ yet\nit was natural to be supposed, that those whose better fortune it was to\nattain their native shore, would inflame their nation to another ruinous\nattempt, with a greater force, to carry all before them. And, indeed, so\nit happened: for about seven months after, our island was invaded with a\nmost formidable navy, no less than eight and twenty canoes full of\nsavages, armed with wooden swords, monstrous clubs, bows and arrows, and\nsuch like instruments of war, landing at the east end of the island.\n\"You may well, Sir, imagine what consternation our men were in upon\nthis account, and how speedy they were to execute their resolution,\nhaving only that night's time allowed them. They knew that since they\ncould not withstand their enemies, concealment was the only way to\nprocure their safety; and, therefore, they took down the huts that were\nbuilt for the two Englishmen, and drove their flocks of goats together\nwith their own at the bower, to the old cave in the valley, leaving as\nlittle appearance of inhabitants as possible; and then posted\nthemselves, with all their force, at the plantation of the two men. As\nthey expected, so it happened: for early the next morning, the Indians,\nleaving their canoes at the east-end of the island, came running along\nthe shore, about two hundred and fifty in number, as near as could be\nguessed. Our army was but little indeed; and what was our greatest\nmisfortune, we had not arms sufficient for them. The account, as to the\nmen, Sir, is an follows: viz. 17 _Spaniards_, 5 _Englishmen, Old Friday,\nthe three savages, taken with the five women, who proved faithful\nservants, and three other slaves, living with the Spaniards. To arm\nthese they had_ 11 _muskets_, 5 _pistols_, 3 _fowling-pieces_, 2\n_swords_, 3 _old halberts_, 5 _muskets, or fowling-pieces, taken from\nthe sailors whom you reduced. As to the slaves, we gave three of them\nhalberts, and the other three long staves, with great iron spikes at the\nend of them, with hatchets by their sides; we also had hatchets sticking\nin our girdles, besides the fire-arms: nay, two of the women, inspired\nwith Amazonian fortitude, could not be dissuaded from fighting along\nwith their dear husbands, and if they died, to die with them, Seeing\ntheir resolution, we gave them hatchets likewise; but what pleased them\nbest, were the bows and arrows (which they dexterously knew how to use)\nthat the Indians had left behind them, after their memorable battle one\nagainst another_.\n\"Over this army, which though little, was of great intrepidity, I was\nconstituted chief general and commander: and knowing Will Atkins, though\nexceedingly wicked, yet a man of invincible courage, I gave him the\npower of commanding under me: he had six men with their muskets loaded\nwith six or seven bullets a-piece, and were planted just behind a small\nthicket of bushes, as an advanced guard, having orders to let the first\npass by; and then, when he fired into the middle of them, making a\nnimble retreat round a part of the wood, and so come in the rear of the\nSpaniards, who were shaded by a thicket of trees: for though the savages\ncame on with the fierceness of lions, yet they wanted the subtility of\nfoxes, being out of all manner of order, and straggling in heaps every\nway: and, indeed, when Will Atkins, after fifty of the savages had\npassed by, had ordered three of his men to give fire, so great was their\nconsternation, to see so many men killed and wounded, and hear such a\ndreadful noise, and yet knew not whence it came, that they were\nfrightened to the highest degree: and when the second volley was given,\nthey concluded no less but that their companions were slain by thunder\nand lightning from Heaven. In this notion they would have continued, had\nWill Atkins and his men retired, as soon as they fired, according to\norder: or had the rest been near them, to pour in their shot\ncontinually, their might have been a complete victory obtained: but\nstaying to load their pieces again, discovered the whole matter. They\nwere perceived by some of the scattering savages at a distance, who let\nfly their arrows among them, wounded Atkins himself, and killed his\nfellow Englishman, and one of the Indians taken with the women. Our\nparty did not fail to answer them, and in their retreat killed about\ntwenty savages. Here I cannot but take notice of our poor dying slave,\nwho, tho' stopt from his retreat by a fatal arrow, yet with his staff\nand hatchet, desperately and gallantly assailed his pursuers, and killed\nfive of the savages, before his life submitted to a multiplicity of\nwounds. Nor is the cruelty or malice of the Indians to be less remarked,\nin breaking the arms, legs, and heads of the two dead bodies, with their\nclubs and wooden swords, after a most wretched manner. As Atkins\nretreated our party advanced, to interpose between him and the savages:\nbut after three vollies, we were obliged to retreat also: for they were\nso numerous and desperate, that they came up to our very teeth, shot\ntheir arrows like a cloud, and their wounded men, enraged with cruel\npain, fought like madmen. They did not, however, think fit to follow us,\nbut drawing themselves up in a circle, they gave two triumphant shouts\nin token of victory, though they had the grief to see several of their\nwounded men bleed to death before them.\n\"After I had, Sir, drawn up our little army together, upon a rising\nground, Atkins, wounded as he was, would have had us attack the whole\nbody of the savages at once, I was extremely well pleased with the\ngallantry of the man: but, upon consideration, I replied, _You perceive,\nSeignor Atkins, how their wounded men fight; let them alone till\nmorning, when they will be faint, stiff, and sore, and then we shall\nhave fewer to combat with_. To which Atkins, smiling, replied, _That's\nvery true, Seignor, so shall I too; and that's the reason I would fight\nthem now I am warm_. We all answered, _Seignor Atkins for your part you\nhave behaved very gallantly; and, if you are not able to approach the\nenemy in the morning, we will fight for you, till then we think it\nconvenient to wait_, and so we tarried.\n\"By the brightness of the moon that night, we perceived the savages in\ngreat disorder about their dead and wounded men. This made us change our\nresolution, and resolve to fall upon them in the night, if we could\ngive them one volley undiscovered. This we had a fair opportunity to do,\nby one of the two Englishmen leading us round, between the woods and the\nsea-side westward, and turning short south, came privately to a place\nwhere the thickest of them were. Unheard and unperceived, eight of us\nfired among them, and did dreadful execution; and in half a minute\nafter, eight more of us let fly, killing and wounding abundance of them;\nand then dividing ourselves into three bodies, eight persons in each\nbody we marched from among the trees, to the very teeth of the enemy,\nsending forth the greatest shouts and acclamations. The savages hearing\na different noise from three quarters at once, stood in the utmost\nconfusion; but coming in sight of us, let fly a volley of arrows, which\nwounded poor old Friday, yet happily it did not prove mortal. We did\nnot, however, give them a second opportunity; but rushing in among them,\nwe fired three several ways, and then fell to work with our swords,\nstaves, hatchets, and the butt-end of our muskets, with a fury not to be\nresisted; so that with the most dismal screaming and howling they had\nrecourse to their feet, to save their lives by a speedy flight. Nor must\nwe forget the valour of the two women; for they exposed themselves to\nthe greatest dangers, killed many with their arrows, and valiantly\ndestroyed several more with their hatchets.\n\"In fighting these two battles, we were so much tired, that we did not\nthen trouble ourselves to pursue them to their canoes, in which we\nthought they would presently put to the ocean; but their happening a\ndreadful storm at sea, which continuing all that night, it not only\nprevented their voyage, but dashed several of their boats to pieces\nagainst the beach, and drove the rest so high upon the shore, that it\nrequired infinite labour to get them off. After our men had taken some\nrefreshment and a little repose, they resolved early in the morning to\ngo towards the place of their landing, and see whether they were gone\noff, or in what posture they remained. This necessarily led them to the\nplace of battle, where several of the savages were expiring, a sight no\nway pleasing to generous minds, to delight in misery, though obliged to\nconquer them by the law of arms; but our own Indian slaves put them out\nof their pain, by dispatching them with their hatchets. At length,\ncoming in view of the remainder of the army, we found them leaning upon\ntheir knees, which were bended towards their mouth, and the head between\nthe two hands. Hereupon, coming within musket shot of them, I ordered\ntwo pieces to be fired without ball, in order to alarm them, that we\nmight plainly know, whether they had the courage to venture another\nbattle, or were utterly dispirited from such an attempt, that so we\nmight accordingly manage them. And indeed, the prospect took very well;\nfor, no sooner did the savages hear the first gun, and perceive the\nflash of the second, but they suddenly started upon their feet in the\ngreatest consternation; and when we approached towards them, they ran\nhowling and screaming away up the hill into the country.\n\"We could rather, at first, have wished, that the weather had permitted\nthem to have gone off to the sea; but when we considered, that their\nescape might occasion the approach of multitudes, to our utter ruin and\ndissolution; we were very well pleased the contrary happened; and Will\nAtkins (who, tho' wounded, would not part from us all this while)\nadvised us not to let slip this advantage, but clapping between them and\ntheir boats, deprive them of the capacity of ever returning to plague\nthe island: _I know_, said he, _there is but on objection you can make,\nwhich is, that these creatures, living like beasts in the wood, may make\nexcursions, rifle the plantations, and destroy the tame goats; but then,\nconsider, we had better to do with an hundred men whom we can kill, or\nmake slaves of at leisure, than with an hundred nations, whom it is\nimpossible we should save ourselves from, much less subdue_. This\nadvice, and these arguments being approved of, we set fire to their\nboats; and though they were so wet that we could not burn them entirely,\nyet we made them incapable for swimming in the seas. As soon as the\nIndians perceived what we were doing, many of them ran out of the woods,\nin fight of us, and kneeling down, piteously cried out, _Oa, Oa!\nWaramakoa_. Intimating, I suppose, that, if we would but spare their\ncanoes, they would never trouble us again.\n\"But all their complaints, submissions, and entreaties, were in vain;\nfor self-preservation obliging us to the contrary, we destroyed every\none of them that had escaped the fury of the ocean. When the Indians\nperceived this, they raised a lamentable cry, and ran into the woods,\nwhere they continued ranging about; making the woods ring with their\nlamentation. Here we should have considered, that making these\ncreatures, thus desperate, we ought, at the same time to have set a\nsufficient guard upon the plantations: for the savages, in their ranging\nabout, found out the bower, destroyed the fences, trod the corn down\nunder their feet, and tore up the vines and grapes. It is true, we were\nalways able to fight these creatures; but, as they were too swift for\nus, and very numerous, we durst not go out single, for fear of them;\nthough that too was needless, they having no weapons, nor any materials\nto make them; and, indeed, their extremity appeared in a little\ntime after.\n[ILLUSTRATION: The Spaniard, &c. burning the Indian canoes. _Dr. & Eng.\nby A. Carse, Edin._]\n\"Though the savages, as already mentioned, had destroyed our bower, and\nall our corns, grapes, &c. yet we had still left our flock of cattle in\nthe valley, by the cave, with some little corn that grew there, and the\nplantation of Will Atkins and his companions, one of whom being killed\nby an arrow, they were now reduced to two: it is remarkable that this\nwas the fellow who cut the poor Indian with his hatchet, and had design\nto murder me and my countrymen the Spaniards. As our condition was low,\nwe came to the resolution to drive the savages up to the farther part of\nthe island, where no Indians landed, to kill as many of them as we\ncould, till we had reduced their number; and then to give the remainder\nsome corn to plant, and to teach them how to live by their daily labour,\naccordingly we pursued them with our guns, at the hearing of which they\nwere so terrified, that they would fall to the ground. Every day we\nkilled and wounded some of them, and many were found starved to death,\nso that our hearts began to relent at the sight of such miserable\nobjects. At last, with great difficulty, taking one of them alive, and\nusing him with kindness, & tenderness, we brought him to Old Friday, who\ntalked to him, & told him how good we would be to them all, giving them\ncorn and land to plant and live in, and present nourishment, provided\nthey should keep within such bounds as should be allotted them, and not\ndo prejudice to others: _Go then_, said he, _and inform your countrymen\nof this; which, if they will not agree to, every one of them shall\nbe slain_.\n\"The poor creatures, thoroughly humbled, being reduced to about\nthirty-seven, joyfully accepted the offer, and earnestly begged for\nfood; hereupon we sent twelve Spaniards and two Englishmen well armed,\ntogether with Old Friday, and three Indian slaves were loaded with a\nlarge quantity of bread and rice cakes, with three live goats: and the\npoor Indians being ordered to sit down on the side of the hill, they ate\nthe victuals very thankfully, and have proved faithful to the last,\nnever trespassing beyond their bounds, where at this day they quietly\nand happily remain, and where we now and then visit them. They are\nconfined to a neck of land about a mile and a half broad, and three or\nfour in length, on the south-east corner of the island, the sea being\nbefore, and lofty mountains behind them, free from the appearance of\ncanoes; and indeed their countrymen never made any inquiry after them.\nWe gave them twelve hatchets, and three or four knives; have taught them\nto build huts, make wooden spades, plant corn, make bread, breed tame\ngoats and milk them, as likewise to make wicker work, in which I must\ningenuously confess, they infinitely out do us, having made themselves\nseveral pretty necessaries and fancies, as baskets, sieves, bird-cages,\nand cupboards, as also stools, beds and couches, no less useful than\ndelightful; and now they live the most innocent and inoffensive\ncreatures that ever were subdued in the world, wanting nothing but wives\nto make them a nation.\n\"Thus, kind Sir, have I given you, according to my ability, an\nimpartial account of the various transactions that have happened, in the\nisland since your departure to this day; and we have great reason to\nacknowledge the kind providence of Heaven in our merciful deliverance.\nWhen you inspect your little kingdom, you will find in it some little\nimprovement, your flocks increased, and your subjects augmented, so that\nfrom a desolate island, as this was before your wonderful deliverance\nupon it, here is a visible prospect of its becoming a populous and well\ngoverned little kingdom, to your immortal fame and glory.\"\nThere is no doubt to suppose but that the preceeding relation of my\nfaithful Spaniard was very agreeable and no less surprising to me, to\nthe young priest, and to all who heard it: now were these people less\npleased with those necessary utensils that I brought them, such as the\nknives, scissars, spades, shovels, and pick-axes, with which they now\nadorn their habitations.\nSo much had they addicted themselves to wicker-work, prompted by the\ningenuity of the Indians, who assisted them, that when I viewed the\nEnglishmen's colonies, they seemed at a distance as though they had\nlived like bees in a hive: for Will Atkins, who was now become a very\nindustrious and sober man, had made himself a tent of basket-work round\nthe outside; the walls were worked in as a basket, in pannels or strong\nsquares of thirty-two in number, standing about seven feet high: in the\nmiddle was another, not above twenty-two paces round, but much stronger\nbuilt, being of an octagonal form, and in the eight corners stood eight\nstrong poles, round the top of which he raised a pyramid for the roof,\nmighty pretty, I assure you, and joined very well together, with iron\nspikes, which he made himself; for he had made him a forge, with a pair\nof wooden bellows and charcoal for his work, forming an anvil cut of one\nof the iron crows, to work upon, and in the manner would he make himself\nhooks, staples, spikes, bolts, and hinges. After he had pitched the roof\nof his innermost tent, he made it so firm between the rafters with\nbasket-work, thatching that over again with rice-straw, and over that a\nlarge leaf of a tree, that his house was as dry as if it had been tiled\nor slated. The outer circuit was covered as a lean-to, quite round this\ninner appartment, laying long rafters from the thirty-two angles to the\ntop posts of the inner house, about twenty-feet distant, so that there\nwas a space like a wall between the outer and inner wall, near twenty\nfeet in breadth. The inner place he partitioned off with the same\nwicker-work, dividing it into six neat apartments every one of which had\na door, first into the entry of the main tent, and another into the\nspace and walk that was round it, not only convenient for retreat, but\nfor family necessaries. Within the door of the outer circle, there was\na passage directly to the door of the inner house; on either side was a\nwicker partition, and a door, by which you go into a room twenty-two\nfeet wide, and about thirty long, and through that into another of a\nsmaller length; so that in the outer circle were ten handsome rooms, six\nof which were only to be come at through the apartments of the inner\ntent, serving as retiring rooms to the respective chambers of the inner\ncircle, and four large warehouses, which went in through one another,\ntwo on either hand of the passage that led through the outer door to the\ninner tent. In short, nothing could be built more ingeniously, kept more\nneat, or have better conveniences; and here lived the three families,\nWill Atkins, his companion, their wives and children, and the widow of\nthe deceased. As to religion, the men seldom taught their wives the\nknowledge of God, any more than the sailors' custom of swearing by his\nname. The greatest improvement their wives had, was, they taught them to\nspeak English, so as to be understood.\nNone of their children were then above six years old; they were all\nfruitful enough; and I think the cook's mate's wife was big of her\nsixth child.\nWhen I inquired of the Spaniards about their circumstances while among\nthe savages, they told me, _that they abandoned themselves to despair,\nreckoning themselves a poor and miserable people, that had no means put\ninto their hands, and consequently must soon be starved to death._ They\nowned, however, that they were in the wrong to think so, and for\nrefusing the assistance that reason offered for their support, as well\nas future deliverance, confessing that grief was a most insignificant\npassion, as it looked upon things as without remedy, and having no hope\nof things to come; all which verified this noted proverb,\n_In trouble to be troubled,\nIs to have your trouble doubled._\nNor did his remarks end here, for, making observations upon my\nimprovement, and on my condition at first, infinitely worse than theirs,\nhe told me that Englishmen had, in their distress, greater presence of\nmind than those of any other country that he had met with; and that they\nand the Portuguese were the worst men in the world to struggle under\nmisfortunes. When they landed among the savages, they found but little\nprovision except they would turn cannibals, there being but a few roots\nand herbs, with little substance in them, and of which the natives gave\nthem but very sparingly. Many were the ways they took to civilize and\nteach the savages, but in vain; for they would not own them to be their\ninstructors, whose lives were owing to their bounty. Their extremities\nwere very great and many days being entirely without food, the savages\nthere being more indolent and less devouring than those who had better\nsupplies. When they went out to battle they were obliged to assist these\npeople, in one of which my faithful Spaniard being taken, had like to\nhave been devoured. They had lost their ammunition, which rendered their\nfire-arms useless; nor could they use the bows and arrows that were\ngiven them, so that while the armies were at a distance, they had no\nchance but when close, then they could be of service with halberts, &\nsharpened sticks put into the muzzles of their muskets. They made\nthemselves targets of wood covered with the skins of wild beasts; and\nwhen one happened to be knocked down, the rest of the company fought\nover him till he recovered; and then standing close in a line, they\nwould make their way through a thousand savages. At the return of their\nfriend, who they thought had been entombed in the bowels of their\nenemies, their joy was inconceivable. Nor were they less surprised at\nthe sight of the loaves of bread I had sent them, things that they had\nnot seen for several years, at the same time crossing and blessing it,\nas though it was manna sent from Heaven: but when they knew the errand,\nand perceived the boat which was to carry them back to the person and\nplace from whence such relief came, this struck them with such a\nsurprise of joy as made some of them faint away, and others burst out\ninto tears.\nThis was the summary account that I had from them. I shall now inform\nthe reader what I next did for them, and in what condition I left them.\nAs we were all of opinion that the savages would scarce trouble them any\nmore, so we had no apprehensions on the score. I told them I was come\npurely to establish, and not to remove them; and upon that occasion, had\nnot only brought them necessaries for convenience and defence, but also\nartificers, and other persons, both for their necessary employments, and\nto add to their number. They were altogether when I thus talked to them;\nand before I delivered to them the stores I brought, I asked them, one\nby one, if they had entirely forgot their first animosities, would\nengage in the strictest friendship; and shake hands with one another? On\nthis Will Atkins, with abundance of good humour, said, _they had\nafflictions enough to make them all sober, and enemies enough to make\nthem all friends: as for himself, he would live and die among them,\nowning that what the Spaniards had done to him, his own mad humour had\nmade necessary for them to do_. Nor had the Spaniards occasion to\njustify their proceeding to me; but they told me, _that since Will\nAtkins had behaved himself so valiantly in fight, and at other times\nshowed such a regard to the common interest of them all, they had not\nonly forgotten all that was past, but thought he ought as much to be\ntrusted with arms and necessaries as any of them, which they testified\nby making him next in command to the governor: and they most heartily\nembraced the occasion of giving me this solemn assurance, that they\nwould never separate their interest again, as long as they lived_.\nAfter these kind declarations of friendship, we appointed all of us to\ndine together the next day; upon this I caused the ship's cook and his\nmate to come on shore for that purpose, to assist in dressing our\ndinner. We brought from the ship six pieces of beef, and four of pork,\ntogether with our punch bowl, and materials to fill it; and in\nparticular I gave them ten bottles of French claret, and ten of English\nbeer, which was very acceptable to them. The Spaniards added to our\nfeast, five whose kids, which being roasted, three of them were sent as\nfresh meat to the sailors on board, and the other two we ate ourselves.\nAfter our merry and innocent feast was over, I began to distribute my\ncargo among them. First, I gave them linen sufficient to make every one\nfour shirts, and at the Spaniard's request made them up six. The thin\nEnglish stuffs I allotted to make every one a light coat like a frock,\nagreeable to the climate, and left them such a quantity as to make more\nupon their decay; as also pumps, shoes, hats, and stockings. It is not\nto be expressed the pleasing satisfaction which sat upon the\ncountenances of these poor men, when they perceived what care I took of\nthem, as if I had been a common father to them all; and they all engaged\nnever to leave the island, till I gave my consent for their departure. I\nthen presented to them the people I brought, viz. the tailor, smith, and\nthe two carpenters; but my Jack-of-all-trades was the most acceptable\npresent I could make them. My tailor fell immediately to work, and made\nevery one of them a shirt; after which, he learned the women how to sew\nand stitch, thereby to become the more helpful to their husbands.\nNeither were the carpenters less useful, taking in pieces their clumsy\nthings; instead of which they made convenient and handsome tables,\nstools, bedsteads, cupboards, lockers, and shelves. But when I carried\nthem to see Will Atkins's basket-house, they owned they never saw such a\npiece of natural ingenuity before: _I am sure,_ said one of the\ncarpenters, _the man that built this has no need of us; you need, Sir,\ndo nothing but give him tools._\nI divided the tools among them in this manner: to every man I gave a\ndigging spade, a shovel, and a rake, as having no harrows or ploughs;\nand to every separate place a pickax, a crow, a broad ax, and a saw,\nwith a store for a general supply, should any be broken or worn out. I\nleft them also nails, staples, hinges, hammers, chisels, knives,\nscissors, and all sorts of tools and iron work; & for the use of the\nsmith, gave them three tons of unwrought iron, for a supply; and as to\narms and ammunition, I stored them even to profusion; or at least to\nequip a sufficient little army against all opposers whatsoever.\nThe young man (whose mother was unfortunately starved to death) together\nwith the maid, a pious and well educated young woman, seeing things so\nwell ordered on shore (for I made them accompany me) and considering\nthey had no occasion to go so far a voyage as to the East Indies, they\nboth desired of me, that I would leave them there, and enter them among\nmy subjects. This I readily agreed to, ordering them a plat of ground,\non which were three little houses erected, environed with basket-work,\npallisadoed like Atkins's and adjoining to his plantation. So contrived\nwere their tents that each of them had a room apart to lodge in, while\nthe middle tent was not only their store-house, but their place for\neating and drinking. At this time the two Englishmen removed their\nhabitation to their former place; in that now the island was divided\ninto three colonies: first, Those I have just now mentioned; secondly\nThat of Will Atkins, where there were four families of Englishmen, with\ntheir wives and children, the widow and her children; the young man and\nthe maid, who, by the way, we made a wife of before our departure; three\nsavages, who were slaves; the tailor, smith, (who served also as a\ngunsmith) and my other celebrated person called Jack-of-all-trades.\nThirdly, my chief colony, which consisted of the Spaniards, with Old\nFriday, who still remained at my old habitation, which was my capital\ncity, and surely never was there such a metropolis, it now being hid in\nso obscure a grove, that a thousand men might have ranged the island a\nmonth, and looked purposely for it, without being able to find it,\nthough the Spaniards had enlarged its boundaries, both without and\nwithin, in a most surprising manner.\nBut now I think it high time to speak of the young French priest of the\norder of St. Benedict, whose judicious and pious discourses, upon sundry\noccasions, merit an extraordinary observation; nor can his being a\nFrench Papist priest, I presume, give offence to any of my readers, when\nthey have this assurance from me, that he was a person of the most\ncourteous disposition, extensive charity, and exalted piety. His\narguments were always agreeable to reason, and his conversation the most\nacceptable of any person that I had ever yet met with in my life.\n_Sir,_ said he, to me, one day, _since, under God,_ at the same time\ncrossing his breast, _you have not only saved my life; but, by\npermitting me to go this voyage, have granted me the happiness of free\nconversation, I think is my duty as my profession obliges me, to save\nwhat souls I can, by bringing them to the knowledge of some Catholic\ndoctrine, necessary to salvation; and since these people are under your\nimmediate government, in gratitude, justice, and decency, for what you\nhave done for me, I shall offer no farther points in religion, that what\nshall merit your approbation_. Being a-pleased with the modesty of his\ncarriage, I told him he should not be worse used for being of a\ndifferent persuasion, if upon that very account, we did not differ in\npoints of faith, not decent in a part of the country where the poor\nIndians ought to be instructed in the knowledge of the true God, and his\nSon Jesus Christ. To this he replied, that conversation might easily be\nseparated from disputes; that he would discourse with me rather as a\ngentleman than a religious: but that, if we did enter upon religious\nargument, upon my desiring the same, I would give him liberty to defend\nhis own principles. He farther added, that he would do all that became\nhim in his office, as a priest as well as a Christian, to procure the\nhappiness of all that were in the ship: that though he could not pray\nwith, he would pray for us on all occasions; and then he told me several\nextraordinary events of his life, within a few years past; but\nparticularly in this last, which was the most remarkable: that, in this\nvoyage, he had the misfortune to be five times shipped and unshipped:\nhis first design was to have gone to Martinico; for which, taking ship\nat St. Malos, he was forced into Lisbon by bad weather, the vessel\nrunning aground in the mouth of the Tagus; that from thence he went on\nboard a Portuguese ship, bound to the Madeiras, whose master being but\nan indifferent mariner, and out of his reckoning, they were drove to\nFial, where selling their commodity, which was corn, they resolved to\ntake in their loading at the Isle of May, and to sail to Newfoundland;\nat the banks of which, meeting a French ship bound to Quebec, in the\nriver of Canada, and from thence to Martinico, in this ship he embarked;\nthe master of which dying at Quebec, that voyage was suspended; and\nlastly, shipping himself for France, this last ship was destroyed by\nfire, as before has been related.\nAt this time we talked no further; but another morning he comes to me,\njust as I was going to visit the Englishman's colony, and tells me, that\nas he knew; the prosperity of the island, was my principal desire, he\nhad something to communicate agreeable to my design, by which perhaps he\nmight put it, more than he yet thought it was, in the way of the\nbenediction of heaven. _How, Sir,_ said I, in a surprise, _are we not\nyet in the way of God's blessings, after all these signal providences\nand deliverances, of which you have had such an ample relation?_ He\nreplied, _Nope, Sir, you are in the way, and that your good design will\nprosper: but still there are some among you that are not equally right\nin their actions; and remember, I beseech you, Sir, that Achan, by his\ncrime, removed God's blessing from the camp of the children of Israel;\nthat though six and thirty were entirely innocent, yet they became the\nobject of divine vengeance, and bore the weight of his punishment\naccordingly._\nSo sensibly was I touched with this discourse, and so satisfied with\nthat ardent piety that inflamed his soul, that I desired him to\naccompany me to the Englishman's plantations, which he was very glad of,\nby reason they were the subject of what he designed to discourse with me\nabout: and while we walked on together, he began in the\nfollowing manner:\n\"Sir, said he, I must confess it as a great unhappiness that we disagree\nin several doctrinal articles of religion; but surely both of us\nacknowledge this, that there is a God, who having given us some stated\nrules for our service and obedience, we ought not willingly and\nknowingly to offend him; either by neglecting what he has commanded, or\nby doing what he has forbidden. This truth every Christian owns, that\nwhen any one presumptuously sins against God's command, the Almighty\nthen withdraws his blessing from him; every good man therefore ought\ncertainly to prevent such neglect of, or sin against, God and his\ncommands.\" I thanked the young priest for expressing so great a concern\nfor us, and desired him to explain the particulars of what he had\nobserved, that according to the parable of Achan, I _might remove the\naccursed thing from among us_ \"Why then, Sir, said he, in the first\nplace, you have four Englishmen, who have taken savage women to their\nwives, by whom they have several children, though none of them are\nlegally married, as the law of God and man requires; they, I say, Sir,\nare no less than adulterers, and as they still live in adultery, are\nliable to the curse of God. I know, Sir, you may object the want of a\npriest or clergyman of any kind; as also, pen, ink and paper, to write\ndown a contract of marriage, and have it signed between them. But\nneither this, nor what the Spanish governor has told you of their\nchoosing by consent, can be reckoned a marriage, nor any more than an\nagreement to keep them from quarrelling among themselves; for, Sir, the\nessence or sacrament of matrimony (so he called it) not only consists in\nmutual consent, but in the legal obligation, which compels them to own\nand acknowledge one another, to abstain from other persons, the men to\nprovide for their wives and children, and the woman to the same and like\nconditions, _nutatis mutandis,_ on their side: whereas, Sir, these men,\nupon their own pleasure, on any occasion, may forsake those women and\nmarry others, and by disowning their children, suffer them utterly to\nperish. Now, Sir, 'added he, 'can God be honoured in such an unlawful\nliberty as this; how can a blessing succeed to the best endeavours, if\nmen are allowed to live in so licentious a way?\" I was indeed struck\nwith the thing myself, and thought that they were much to blame, that no\nformal contract had been made, though it had been but breaking a stick\nbetween them, to engage them to live as man and wife, never to separate,\nbut love, cherish, and comfort one another all their lives; _yet Sir,_\nsaid I, _when they took these wommen, I was not here, and if it is\nadultery, it is past my remedy, and I cannot help it_. \"True, Sir,'\nanswered the young priest, you cannot be charged with that part of the\ncrime which was done in your absence: but I beseech you, don't flatter\nyourself, that you are under no obligation now to put a period to it:\nwhich if you neglect to do, the guilt will be entirely on you alone,\nsince it is certainly in nobody's power but yours, to alter their\ncondition.\" I must confess, I was so dull, that I thought he meant, I\nshould part them, and knowing that this would put the whole island in\nconfusion, I told him, I could not consent to it upon any account\nwhatsoever. \"Sir,' said he, in a great surprise, 'I do not mean that you\nshould separate, but marry them, by a written contract, signed by both\nman and woman, and by all the witnesses present, which all the European\nlaws decree to be of sufficient efficacy.\" Amazed with such true piety\nand sincerity, and considering the validity of a written contract, I\nacknowledged all that he said to be very just and kind, and that I would\ndiscourse with the man about it; neither could I see what reason they\ncould have not to let him marry them, whose authority in that affair is\nowned to be as authentic as if they were married by any of our clergymen\nin England.\nThe next complaint he had to make to me was this, that though these\nEnglish subjects of mine have lived with these women seven years, and\nthough they were of good understanding, and capable of instruction,\nhaving learned not only to speak, but to read English, yet all this\nwhile they had never taught them any thing of the Christian religion, or\nthe knowledge of God, much less in what manner he ought to be served.\n\"And is not this an unaccountable neglect:' said he warmly. 'Depend upon\nit, God Almighty will call them to account for such contempt. And though\nI am not of your religion, yet I should be glad to see these people\nreleased from the devil's power, and be saved by the principles of the\nChristian religion, the knowledge of God, of a Redeemer, the\nresurrection, and of a future state. But as it is not too late, if you\nplease to give me leave to instruct them, I doubt not but I shall supply\nthis great defect, by bringing them into the great circle of\nChristianity, even while you continue in the island.\"\nI could hold no longer, but embracing him, told him, with a thousand\nthanks, I would grant whatever he requested, and desired him to proceed\nin the third article, which he did in the following manner;\n\"Sir,' said he, 'it should be a maxim among all Christians, that\nChristian knowledge ought to be propagated by all possible means, and on\nall occasion. Upon this account our church sends missionaries into\nPersia, India, and China, men who are willing to die for the sake of God\n& the Christian faith, in order to bring poor infidels into the way of\nsalvation. Now, Sir, as here is an opportunity to convert seven & thirty\npoor savages, I wonder how you can pass by such an occasion of doing\ngood, which is really worth the expence of a man's whole life.\"\nI must confess I was so confounded at this discourse, that I could not\ntell how to answer him. \"Sir,' said he, feeling me in disorder, 'I shall\nbe very sorry if I have given you offence.\" _No Sir,_ said I, _I am\nrather confounded; and you know my circumstances, that being bound to\nthe East Indies in a merchant ship, I cannot wrong the owners so much,\nas to detain the ship here, the men lying at victuals and savages on\ntheir account. If I stay aboard several days, I must pay 3l. sterling_\nper diem _demurage, nor must the ship stop above eight days more; so\nthat I am unable to engage in this work, unless I would leave the ship,\nand be reduced to my former condition._ The priest, though he owned this\nwas hard upon me, yet laid it to my conscience, whether the blessing of\nsaving seven and thirty souls was not worth venturing all that I had in\nthe world? _Sir,_ said I, _it is very true; but as you are an\necclesiastic, it naturally falls into your profession: why, therefore,\ndon't you rather offer to undertake it yourself than press me to it?_\nupon this he turned about, making a very low bow, \"I most humbly thank\nGod and you, Sir, (said he) for so blessed a call; and most willingly\nundertake so glorious an office, which will sufficiently compensate all\nthe hazards and difficulties I have gone through in a long and\nuncomfortable voyage.\"\nWhile he was thus speaking, I could discover a rapture in his face, by\nhis colour going and coming; at the same time his eyes sparkled like\nfire, and all the signs of the most zealous transports. And when I asked\nwhether he was in earnest? _Sir,_ said he, _it was to preach to the\nIndians I consented to come along with you; these infidels, even in this\nlittle island, are infinitely of more worth than my poor life: if so\nthat I should prove the happy instrument of saving these poor creatures'\nsouls, I care not if I never see my native country again. One thing I\nonly beg of you more is, that you would leave Friday with me, to be my\ninterpreter, without whose assistance neither of us will understand\neach other._\nThis request very sensibly troubled me; first, upon Friday's being bred\na Protestant; and secondly, for the affection I bore to him for his\nfidelity: But, immediately the remembrance of Friday's father coming\ninto my head, I recommended him to him as having learned Spanish, which\nthe priest also understood; and so was thoroughly satisfied with him.\nWhen we came to the Englishmen, after I had told them what necessary\nthings I had done for them, I talked to them of the scandalous life they\nled, told them what notice the clergyman had taken of it, and asked them\nif they were married men or bachelors? They answered, two of them were\nwidowers, and the other three single men. But, said I, with what\nconscience can you call these your wives, by whom you have so many\nchildren, and yet are not lawfully married? They all said that they took\nthem before the governor as such, having nobody else to marry them,\nwhich they thought as legal, as if they had had a parson. No doubt, said\nI, but in the eye of God it is so: but unless I am assured of your\nhonest intent, never to desert these poor creatures, I can do nothing\nmore for you, neither can you expect God's blessing while you live in\nsuch an open course of adultery. Hereupon, Will Atkins, who spoke for\nthe rest, told me 'That they believed their wives the most innocent and\nvirtuous creatures in the world; that they would never forsake them\nwhile they had breath; and that, if there was a clergyman in the ship,\nthey would be married to them with all their hearts.' I told you before,\nsaid I, that I have a minister with me, who shall marry you to-morrow\nmorning, if you are willing; so I would have you consult to-night with\nthe rest about it. I told him the clergyman was a Frenchman, and knew\nnot a word of English, but that I would act as clerk between them. And\nindeed this business met with such speedy success, that they all told\nme, in a few minutes after, 'that they were ready to be formally married\nas soon as I pleased;' with which informing the priest, he was\nexceedingly rejoiced.\nNothing now remained, but that the women should be made sensible of the\nmeaning of the thing; with which being well satisfied, they with their\nhusbands attended at my apartment the next morning; there was my priest,\nhabited in a black vest, something like a cassock, with a sash round it;\nmuch resembling a minister, and I was his interpreter. But the\nseriousness of his behaviour, and the scruples he made of marrying the\nwomen, who were not baptized, gave them, an exceeding reverence for his\nperson: nor indeed would he marry them at all, till he obtained my\nliberty to discourse both with the men and women, and then he told them,\n'That in the sight of all indifferent men, and in the sense of the laws\nof society, they had lived in open adultery, which nothing new, but\ntheir consent to marry, or final separation, could put an end to; and\neven here was a difficulty with respect to the laws of Christian\nmatrimony, in marrying a professed Christian to a heathen idolater,\nunbaptized; but yet there was time enough to make them profess the name\nof Christ, without which nothing could be done; that, besides, he\nbelieved themselves very indifferent Christians; and consequently had\nnot discoursed with their wives upon that subject; and that unless they\npromised him to do so, he could not marry them, as being expressly\nforbidden by the laws of God.'\nAll this they heard attentively, and owned readily.\n_But, Lord, Sir,_ said Will Atkins to me _how could we teach them\nreligion, who know nothing of it ourselves? How can we talk to our wives\nof God, Jesus Christ, heaven, and hell? Why they would only laugh at us,\nwho never yet have practiced religion, but on the contrary all manner of\nwickedness. Will Atkins,_ said I, _cannot you tell your wife she is in\nthe wrong, and that her gods are idols, which can neither speak nor\nunderstand; but that our God, who has made, can destroy all things; that\nhe rewards the good and punishes the wicked; and at last will bring us\nto judgment; cannot you tell her these things? That's true,_ said\nAtkins, _but then she'll tell me it is utterly false, since I am not\npunished and sent to the devil, who hath been such a wicked creature._\nThese words I interpreted to the priest. \"Oh!\" said he, \"tell him, his\nrepentance will make him a very good minister to his spouse, and qualify\nhim to preach on the mercy and long suffering of a merciful Being, who\ndesires not the death of a sinner, and even defers damnation to the last\njudgment; this will lead him to the doctrine of the resurrection and\nwill make him an excellent preacher to his wife.\" I repeated this to\nAtkins, who being more than ordinary affected with it, replied, _I know\nall this, Sir, and a great deal more; but how can I have the impudence\nto talk thus to my wife, given my conscience witnesses against me?\nAlas!_ said he (with tears in his eye, and giving a great sigh) _as for\nrepenting, that is for ever past me. Past you! Atkins,_ said I, _what do\nyou mean? You know well enough,_ said he, _what I mean, I mean it is\ntoo late._\nWhen I told the priest what he said, the poor affectionate man could not\nrefrain from weeping; but recovering himself \"Pray, Sir,\" said he, \"ask\nhim if he is contented that it is too late; or is he concerned, and\nwishes it were not so?\" This question I put fairly to Atkins, who\nreplied in a passion, _How can I be easy in a state which I know must\nterminate in my ruin? for I really believe, some time or other, I shall\ncut my threat, to put a period both to my life, and to the terrors of my\nconscience._\nAt this, the clergyman shook his head, \"Sir,\" said he, \"pray tell him it\nis not too late; Christ will give him repentance, if he has recourse to\nthe merit of his passion. Does he think he is beyond the power of Divine\nmercy? There may indeed be a time when provoked mercy will no longer\nstrive, but never too late for men to repent in this world.\" I told\nAtkins every word the priest had said, who then parted from us to walk\nwith his wife, while we discoursed with the rest. But these were very\nstupid in religious matters; yet all of them promised to do their\nendeavours to make their wives turn Christians; and upon which promises\nthe priest married the three couple. But as Atkins was the only sincere\nconvert and of more sense than the rest, my clergyman was earnestly\ninquiring after him: \"Sir,\" said he, \"let us walk out of this labyrinth,\n& I dare say we shall find this poor man preaching to his wife already.\"\nAnd indeed we found it true; for coming to the edge of the wood, we\nperceived Atkins and his savage wife sitting under the shade of a bush,\nin very earnest discourse; he pointed to the sun, to the quarters of the\nearth, to himself, to her, the woods, and the trees. Immediately we\ncould perceive him start upon his feet, fall down upon his knees, and\nlift up both his hands; at which the tears ran down my clergyman's\ncheeks; but our great misfortune was, we could not hear one word that\npassed between them. Another time he would embrace her, wiping the tears\nfrom her eyes, kissing her with the greatest transports, and then both\nkneel down for some minutes together. Such raptures of joy did this\nconfirm in my young priest, that he could scarcely contain himself: And\na little after this, we observed by her motion, as frequently lifting up\nher hands, and laying them on her breast, that she was mightily affected\nwith his discourse, and so they withdrew from our sight.\nWhen we came back, we found them both waiting to be called in; upon\nwhich he agreed to examine him alone, and so I began thus to discourse\nhim. \"Prithee, Will Atkins,\" said I, \"what education have you? What was\nyour father?\"\n_W.A._ A better man than ever I shall be; he was, Sir, a clergyman, who\ngave me good instruction, or correction, which I despised like a brute\nas I was, and murdered my poor father.\n_Pr._ Ha! a murderer!\n[_Here the priest started and looked pale, as thinking he had really\nkilled his father_.]\n_R.C._ What, did you kill him with your hands?\n_W.A._ No, Sir, I cut not his throat, but broke his heart by the most\nunnatural turn of disobedience to the tenderest and best of fathers.\n_R.C._ Well, I pray God grant you repentance: I did not ask you to\nexhort a confession; but I asked you because I see you have more\nknowledge of what is good than your companions.\n_W.A._ O Sir, whenever I look back upon my past life, conscience\nupbraids me with my father: the sins against our parents make the\ndeepest wounds, and their weight lies the heaviest upon the mind.\n_R.C._ You talk, Will, too feelingly and sensibly for me; I am not able\nto bear it.\n_W.A._ You bear it, Sir! you know nothing of it.\n_R.C._ But yes, Atkins, I do; and every shore, valley, and tree in this\nisland, witness the anguish of my soul for my undutifulness to my kind\nfather, whom I have murdered likewise; yet my repentance falls\ninfinitely short of yours. But, Will, how comes the sense of this matter\nto touch you just now?\n_W.A._ Sir, the work you have set me about, has occasioned it; for\ntalking to my wife about God and religion, she has preached me such a\nsermon, that I shall retain it in lasting remembrance.\n_R.C._ No, no, it is your own moving pious arguments to her, has made\nconscience fling them back upon you. But pray, Atkins, inform us what\npassed between you and your wife, and in what manner you did begin.\n_W.A._ I talked to her of the laws of marriage, the reason of such\ncompacts, whereby order and justice is maintained; without which men\nwould run from their wives and children, to the dissolution of families\nor inheritances.\n_R.C._ Well, and what did she say to all this?\n_W.A._ Sir, we began our discourse in the following manner, which I\nshall exactly repeat according to my mean capacity, if you think it\nworth you while to honour it with your attention.\n_The DIALOGUE between WILL ATKINS and his Wife in the wood._\n_Wife._ You tell me marriage God appoint, have you God in your country?\n_W.A._ Yes, child, God is in every nation.\n_Wife._ No; great old Benamuckee God is in my country, not yours.\n_A._ My dear, God is in heaven, which he made; he also made the earth,\nthe sea and all that is therein.\n_Wife._ Why you no tell me much long ago?\n_A._ My dear I have been a wicked wretch, having a long time lived\nwithout the knowledge of God in the world.\n_Wife._ What, not know great God in own nation? No do good ting? No say\nO to him? that's strange!\n_A._ But, my dear, many live as if there was no God in heaven for all\nthat.\n_Wife._ Why God suffer them? why makee not live well?\n_A._ It is our own faults, child.\n_Wife._ But if he is much great, can makee kill, why no makee kill when\nno serve him? No be good mans, no cry O to him?\n_A._ That's true, my dear, he may strike us dead, but his abundant mercy\nspareth us.\n_Wife._ Did not you tell God thanked for that?\n_A._ No, I have neither thanked him for his mercy, nor feared him for\nhis power.\n_Wife._ Then me not believe your God be good, nor makee kill, when you\nmakee him angry.\n_A._ Alas! must my wicked life hinder you from believing in him?\n_Wife_. How can me tink your God lives there? _(pointing to heaven.)_\nSure he no ken what you do here.\n_A._ Yes, my dear, he hears us speak, sees what we do, and knows what we\neven think.\n_Wife._ Where then makee power strong, when he hears you curse, swear de\ngreat damn?\n_A._ My dear, this shows indeed he is a God and not a man who has such\ntender mercy.\n_Wife._ Mercy I what you call mercy?\n_A._ He pities and spares us: as he is our great Creator, so he is also\nour tender Father.\n_Wife._ So God never angry, never kill wicked, then he no good, no great\nmighty.\n_A._ O my dear, don't say so, he is both; and many times he shows\nterrible examples of his judgment and vengeance.\n_Wife._ Then you makee de bargain with him; you do bad ting, he no hurt\nyou, he hurt other mans.\n_A._ No, indeed, my lips are all presumptions upon his goodness.\n_Wife._ Well, and yet no makee you dead; and you give him no tankee\nneither?\n_A._ It is true, I an ungrateful, unthankful dog, that I am.\n_Wife._ Why, you say, he makee you, why makee you no much better then?\n_A._ It is I alone that have deformed myself, and abused his goodness.\n_Wife._ Pray makee God know me, me no makee him angry, no do bad ting.\n_A._ You mean, my dear, that you desire I would teach you to know God:\nalas! poor dear creature, he must teach thee, and not I. But I'll pray\nearnestly to him to direct thee, and to forgive me, a miserable sinner.\n_(Hereupon he went a little distance, and kneeling down, prayed\nearnestly to God to enlighten her mind, and to pardon his sins; when\nthis was done, they continued their discourse thus.)_\n_Wife._ What you put down knee for? For what hold up hand? Who you speak\nto?\n_A._ My dear, I bowed in token of submission to him that made me, and\nprayed that he would open your eyes and understanding.\n_Wife._ And can he do that too? And will he hear what you say?\n_A._ Yes, my dear, he bids us pray, and has given us promise that he\nwill hear us.\n_Wife._ When did he bid you pray? What I do you hear him speak?\n_A._ No, my dear, but God has spoken formerly to good men from heaven;\nand by divine revelation they have written all his laws down in a book.\n_Wife_. O where dat good book?\n_A_. I have it not now by me; but one time or other I shall get it for\nyou to read. _Then he embraced her with great affection_.\n_Wife_. Pray tell a mee, did God, teachee them write that book?\n_A_. Yes, and by that rule we know him to be God.\n_Wife_. What way, what rule you know him?\n_A_. Because he teaches what is good, just, and holy; and forbids all\nwicked and abominable actions that incur his displeasure.\n_Wife_. O me fain understand that, and if he do all things you say he\ndo, surely he hear me say O to him; he makee me good if I wish to be\ngood, he no kill me if I love him; me tink, believe him great God; me\nsay O to him, along with you, my dear.\n_Here the poor man fell upon his knees, and made her kneel down by him\npraying with the greatest fervency, that God would instruct her by his\nHoly Spirit; and that God by his providence would send them a Bible for\nboth their instructions. And such was the early piety of this new\nconvert, that she made him promise never to forsake God any more, lest\nbeing_ made dead, _as she called it; she should not only want her\ninstructor, but himself be miserable in a long eternity_.\nSuch a surprising account as this was, proved very affecting to us both,\nbut particularly to the young clergyman, who was mightily concerned he\ncould not talk to her himself. \"Sir,\" said he, \"there, is something more\nto be done to this woman then to marry her; I mean that she ought to be\nbaptized.\" To this, I presently agreed: \"Pray,\" said he, \"ask her\nhusband, whether he has ever talked to her of Jesus Christ, the\nsalvation of sinners, the nature of faith, and redemption in and by him,\nof the Holy Spirit, the resurection, last judgment, and a future state;\"\nbut the poor fellow melted into tears at this question, saying, that he\nhad said something to her of these things, but his inability to talk of\nthem, made him afraid, lest her knowledge of them should rather make her\ncontemn religion, than be benefited by it; but that if I would discourse\nwith her, it would be very evident my labour would not be in vain.\nAccordingly I called her in, and placing myself as interpreter between\nthe religious priest and the woman, I entreated him to go on; but surely\nnever was such a sermon preached by any clergyman in these latter days,\nwith so much zeal, knowledge, and sincerity; in short, he brought the\nwoman to embrace the knowledge of Christ, and of redemption by him, with\nso surprising a degree of understanding, that she made it her own\nrequest to be baptized.\nHe than performed his office in the sacrament of baptism, first, by\nsaying some words over to himself in Latin, and then asking me to give\nher a name, as being her godfather, and pouring a whole dish-full of\nwater upon the woman's head, he said, \"_Mary_, I baptize thee in the\nname of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost;\" so that none\ncould know of what religion he was. After this he pronounced the\nbenediction in Latin. Thus the woman being made a Christian, he married\nher to Will Atkins; which being finished, he affectionately exhorted him\nto lead a holy life for the future; and since the Almighty, for the\nconvictions of his conscience, had honoured him to be the instrument or\nhis wife's conversion, he should not dishonor the grace of God, that\nwhile the savage was converted, the instrument should be cast away. Thus\nended a ceremony, to me the most pleasant and agreeable I ever passed\nin my life.\nThe affairs of the island being settled, I was preparing to go on board,\nwhen the young man (whose mother was starved) came to me, saying, that\nas he understood I had a clergyman with me, who had married the\nEnglishmen with savages, he had a match to make between two Christians,\nwhich he desired might be finished before I departed. Thinking that it\nwas he himself that had courted his mother's maid, I persuaded him not\nto do any thing rashly upon the account of his solitary circumstances;\nthat the maid was an unequal match for him, both in respect to substance\nand years; and that it was very probable he would live to return to his\nown country, where he might have a far better choice. At these words,\nsmiling, he interrupted me, thanking me for my good-advice; that as he\nhad nothing to beg of me but a small settlement, with a servant or two,\nor some new necessaries, so he hoped I would not be unmindful of him\nwhen I returned to England, but give his letter to his friends; and that\nwhen he was redeemed, the plantation, and all its improvements, however\nvaluable, should be returned to me again. But as for the marriage he\nproposed, that it was not himself, but that it was between my\nJack-of-all-trades and the maid Susan.\nI was indeed agreeably surprised at the mentioning this match, which\nseemed very suitable, the one being a very ingenious fellow, and the\nother an excellent, dexterous, and sensible housewife, fit to be\ngoverness of the whole island; so we married them the same day; and as I\nwas her father, and gave her away, so I gave her a handsome portion,\nappointing her and her husband a convenient large space of ground for\ntheir plantation. The sharing out of the land I left to Will Atkins, who\nreally divided if very justly, to every person's satisfaction; they only\ndesired one general writing under my hand for the whole, which I caused\nto be drawn up, signed, and sealed to them, setting out their bounds,\nand giving them a right to the whole possession of their respective\nplantations, with their improvements, to them and their heirs, reserving\nall the rest of the island as my own property, and a certain rent for\nevery particular plantation, after eleven years. As to their laws and\ngovernment, I exhorted them to love one another; and as to the Indians\nwho lived in a nook by themselves, I allotted three or four of them\nplantations, and the rest willingly chose to become servants to the\nother families, by which means they were employed in useful labour, and\nfared much better than they did before. Besides the savages thus mixed\nwith the Christians, the work of their conversion might be set on foot\nby the latter, in the clergyman's absence, to our equal satisfaction.\nThe young priest, however, was a little anxious lest the Christians\nshould not be willing to do their parts in instructing these poor\nIndians; I therefore told him we should call them all together; that he\nshould speak to the Spaniards who were Papists, and I to the English,\nwho were Protestants, and make them promise that they would never make\nany distinction in religion, but teach the general true knowledge of\nGod, and his son Jesus Christ, in order to convert the poor savages. And\nthis, indeed, they all promised us accordingly.\nWhen I came to Will Atkins's house, I found his baptized wife, and the\nyoung woman newly married to my Jack-of-all-trades, were become great\nintimates, and discoursing of religion together. _O, Sir,_ says Will\nAtkins, _when God has sinners to reconcile to himself, he never wants an\ninstructor; I knew I was unworthy of so good a work, and therefore this\nyoung woman has been sent hither as it were from heaven, who is\nsufficient to convert a whole nation of savages_. The young woman\nblushed, and was going to rise; but I desired her to sit still, and\nhoped that God would bless her in so good a work; and then pulling out a\nBible (which I brought on purpose in my pocket for him.) _Here Atkins_,\nsaid I, _here is an assistant that perhaps you had not before_. So\nconfounded was the poor man, that is was some time before he could\nspeak; at last turning to his wife, _My dear_, he said, _did I not tell\nyou that God could hear what we said? Here's the book I prayed for, when\nyou and I kneeled under the bush: God then heard us, and now has sent\nit_. The woman was surprised, and thought really God had sent that\nindividual book from heaven; but I turned to the young woman, and\ndesired her to explain to the young convert, that God may properly be\nsaid to answer our petitions, when, in the course of his providence,\nsuch particular things came to pass as we petitioned for. This the young\nwoman did effectually; but surely Will Atkins's joy cannot be expressed;\nno man being more thankful for any thing in the world, than he was for\nhis Bible, nor desired it from a better principle.\nAfter several religious discourses, I desired the young woman to give me\nan account of the anguish she felt when she was starving to death with\nhunger; to which she readily consented, and began in the\nfollowing manner:\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"all our victuals being gone, after I had fasted one\nday, my stomach was very sickly, and, at the approach, of night, I was\ninclined to yawning and sleepy. When I slept upon the couch three hours,\nI awaked a little refreshed: three hours after, my stomach being more\nand more sickly, I lay down again, but could not sleep, being very faint\nand ill. Thus I passed the second day with a strange variety, first\nhungry, then sick again, with reachings to vomit: that night I dreamed I\nwas at Barbadoes, buying plenty of provisions; and dined heartily. But\nwhen I awaked, my spirits were exceedingly sunk, to find myself in the\nextremity of famine. There was but one glass of wine, which being mixed\nwith sugar, I drank up; but for want of substance to digest upon, the\nfumes of it got into my head, & made me senseless for some time. The\nthird day I was so ravenous and furious, that I could have eaten a\nlittle child if it had come in my way; during which time, I was as mad\nas any creature in Bedlam. In one of these fits I fell down, and struck\nmy face against the corner of a pallet bed, where my mistress lay; the\nblood gushed out of my nose, but by my excessive bleeding, both the\nviolence of the fever, and the ravenous part of the hunger abated. After\nthis, I grew sick again, strove to vomit, but could not; then bleeding a\nsecond time, I swooned away as dead; when I came to myself, I had a\ndreadful gnawing pain in my stomach, which went of towards night, with a\nlonging desire for food. I took a draught of water and sugar, but it\ncame up again; then I drank water without sugar, and that staid with me.\nI laid me down on the bed, praying God would take me away: after I had\nslumbered, I thought myself a-dying, therefore recommended my soul to\nGod, and wished somebody would throw me into the sea. All this while my\ndeparting mistress lay by me: the last bit of bread she had, she gave to\nher dear child my young master. The morning after, I fell into a violent\npassion of crying, and after that into hunger. I espied the blood that\ncame from my nose in a basin, which I immediately swallowed up. At night\nI had the usual variations, as the pain in the stomach, sick, sleepy,\nand ravenous: and I had no thought but that I should die before morning.\nIn the morning came on terrible gripings in my bowels. At this time I\nheard my young master's lamentations, by which I understood his mother\nwas dead. Soon after this, the sailors cried, _A sail! A sail!_\nhallooing as if they were distracted for joy of that relief, which\nafterwards we received from your hands.\"\nSurely never was a more distinct account of starving to death than this.\nBut to return to the disposition of things among my people, I did not\ntake any notice to them of the sloop that I had framed, neither would I\nleave them the two pieces of brass cannon, or the two quarter-deck guns\nthat I had on board, lest, upon any disgust, they should have separated,\nor turned pirates, and so made the island a den of thieves, instead of\na plantation of sober pious people: but leaving them in a flourishing\ncondition, with a promise to send them further relief, from Brazil, as\nsheep, hogs, and cows (being obliged to kill the latter at sea, having\nno hay to feed them) I went on board the ship again, the first of May,\n1695, after having been twenty days among them: and next morning, giving\nthem a salute of five guns at parting, we set sail for the Brazils. The\nthird day, towards evening, there happening a calm, and the current\nbeing very strong, we were drove to the N.N.E. towards the land. Some\nhours after, we perceived the sea covered as it were with something very\nblack, not easily at first to be discovered: upon which our chief mate\nascending the shrouds a little way, and taking a view with a perspective\nglass, he cries out, _An army! An army! You fool_, said I, _what do you\nmean? Nay, Sir_, said he, _don't be angry. I assure you, it is not only\nan army, but a fleet, too, for I believe there are a thousand canoes\npaddling along, and making with great haste towards us_.\nIndeed every one of us were surprised at this relation; and my nephew\nthe captain could not tell what to think of it, but thought we should\nall be devoured. Nor was I free from concern, when I considered how much\nwe were becalmed, and what a strong current set towards the shore;\nhowever, I encouraged him not to be afraid, but bring the ship to an\nanchor as soon as we were certain that we must engage them. Accordingly\nwe did so, and furled all our sails, as to the savages we feared\nnothing, but only that they might se the ship on fire; to prevent which,\nI ordered them to get their boats out, and fasten them, one close by the\nhead, and the other by the stern, well manned, with skeets and buckets\nto extinguish the flames, should it so happen. The savages soon came up\nwith us, but there were not so many as the mate had said, for instead of\na thousand canoes there were only one hundred and twenty; too many\nindeed for us, several of their canoes containing about sixteen or\nseventeen men.\nAs they approached us, they seemed to be in the greatest amazement, not\nknowing what to make of us. They rowed round the ship, which occasioned\nus to call to the men in the boats, not to suffer them to come near\nthem. Hereupon they beckoned to the savages to keep back, which they\naccordingly did; but at their retreat they let fly about fifty arrows\namong us, and very much wounded one of our men in the long-boat. I\ncalled to them not to fire upon any account, but handing them down some\ndeal boards, the carpenters made them a kind of fence to shield them\nfrom the arrows. In half an hour after they came so near astern of us,\nthat we had a perfect sight of them; then they rowed a little farther\nout, till they came directly along-side of us, and then approached so\nnear, that they could hear us speak; this made me order all our men to\nkeep close, and get their guns ready. In the mean time I ordered Friday\nto go out upon deck, and ask them in his language what they meant. No\nsooner did he do so, but six of the savages, who were in the foremost\ncanoes, stooping down, showed us their naked backsides, as much as to\nsay in English, _Kiss our_----: but Friday quickly knew what this meant,\nby immediately crying out they were going to shoot; unfortunately for\nhim, poor creature, who fell under the cloud of three hundred arrows, no\nless than seven piercing through his body, killing one of the best\nservants, and faithfullest of companions in all my solitudes and\nafflictions.\nSo enraged was I at the death of poor Friday, that the guns, which\nbefore were charged only with powder, to frighten them, I ordered to be\nloaded with small shot; nor did the gunners fail in their aim, but at\nthis broadside split and overset thirteen or fourteen of their canoes,\nwhich killed numbers of them, and set the rest a swimming, the others,\nfrightened out of their wits, little regarding their fellows drowning,\nscoured away as fast as they could. One poor wretch our people took up,\nswimming for his life, an hour after. He was very sullen at first, to\nthat he would neither eat nor speak; but I took a way to cure him, by\nordering them to throw him into the sea, which they did, and then he\ncame swimming back like a cork, calling in his tongue, as I suppose, to\nsave him. So we took him on board, but it was a long time before we\ncould make him speak or understand English; yet when we had taught him,\nhe told us, 'they were going with their kings to fight a great battle;'\nand when we asked him, what made them come up to us? he said, _to makee\nde great wonder look_; where it is to be noted, that those natives, and\nthose of Africa, always add to _e_'s at the end of English words, as\n_makee, takee_, and the like, from which it is very difficult thing to\nmake them break off.\nBeing now under sail, we took our last farewell of poor honest Friday,\nand interred him with all possible decency and solemnity, putting him in\na coffin, and committing him to the deep, at the same time cauling\neleven guns to be fired at him. Thus ended the life of one of the most\ngrateful, faithful, honest, and affectionate servants, that ever any man\nwas blessed with in the world.\nHaving now a fair wind for Brazil, in about twelve days time we made\nland in the latitude of five degrees south of the line. Four days we\nkept on S. by E. in sight of shore, when we made Cape St. Augustin, and\nin three days we came up to an anchor off the Bay of all Saints. I had\ngreat difficulty here to get leave to hold correspondence on shore; for\nneither the figure of my partner, my two merchant trustees, nor the fame\nof my wonderful preservation in the island, could procure me the favour,\ntill such time as the prior of the monastery of the Augustines (to\nwhom I had given 500 moidores) obtained leave from the Governor, for me\npersonally, with the Captain & one more, together with eight sailors, to\ncome on shore; upon this condition, that we should not land any goods\nout of the ship, nor carry any person away without licence; I found\nmeans, however, to get on shore three bales of English goods, such as\nfine broad cloths, stuffs, and some linen, which I brought as a present\nfor my partner, who had sent me on board a present of fresh provisions,\nwine and sweetmeats, worth about thirty moidores, including some\ntobacco, and three or four fine gold medals.\n[Illustration: Revenging the death of Friday.]\nHere I delivered my partner in goods to the value of 100\u00a3 sterling, and\nobliged him to fit up the sloop I bought for the use of my island, in\norder to send them refreshments; and so active was he in this matter,\nthat he had the vessel finished in a few days, to the master of which I\ngave particular instructions to find the place. I soon loaded him with a\nsmall cargo; and one of our sailors offered to settle there, upon my\nletter to the Spanish governor, if I would allot him tools and a\nplantation. This I willingly granted, and gave him the savage we had\ntaken prisoner to be his slave. All things being ready for the voyage,\nmy old partner told me there was an acquaintance of his, a Brazil\nplanter, who having fallen under the displeasure of the church, & in\nfear of the Inquisition which obliged him to be concealed, would be glad\nof such an opportunity to make his escape, with his wife & two\ndaughters; & if I would allot them a plantation in my island, he would\ngive them a small stock to begin with, for that the officers had already\nseized his effects and estate, and left him nothing but a little\nhousehold stuff and two slaves. This request I presently granted,\nconcealing him and his family on board our ship, till such time as the\nsloop (where all the effects were) was gone out of the bay, and then we\nput them on board, who carried some materials, and plants for planting\nsugar-canes, along with them. By this sloop, among other things, I sent\nmy subjects three milch cows and five calves, about 22 hogs, three sows\nbig with pig, two mares and a stone horse. I also engaged three Portugal\nwomen to go for sake of the Spaniards, which, with the persecuted man's\ntwo daughters, were sufficient, since the rest had wives of their own,\nthough in another country; all which cargo arrived safe, no doubt to\ntheir exceeding comfort, who, with this addition, were about sixty or\nseventy people, besides children.\nAt this place, my truly honest and pious clergyman left me; for a ship\nbeing ready to set sail for Lisbon, he asked me leave to go thither, but\nI assure you it was with the greatest reluctance I parted from a person,\nwhose virtue and piety merited the greatest esteem.\nFrom the Brazils, we made directly over the Atlantic Ocean to the Cape\nof Good Hope, having a tolerable good voyage, steering for the most part\nS.E. We were on a trading voyage, and had a supercargo on board, who\nwas to direct all the ship's motions after she arrived at the Cape, only\nbeing limited to a certain number of days, for stay, by charter party,\nat the several ports she was to go to. At the Cape we only took in fresh\nwater, and then sailed for the coast of Coromandel; we were there\ninformed, that a French man of war of 50 guns, and two large merchant\nships were sailed for the Indies, but we heard no more of them.\nIn our passage, we touched at the island of Madagascar, where, though\nthe inhabitants are naturally fierce and treacherous, & go constantly\narmed with bows & lances, yet for some time they treated us civily\nenough; and, in exchange for knives, scisors, and other trifles, they\nbrought us eleven good fat bullocks, which we took partly for present\nvictuals, and the remainder to salt for the ship's use.\nSo curious was I to view every corner of the world where I came to, that\nI went on shore as often as I could. One evening when on shore, we\nobserved numbers of the people stand gazing at us at a distance. We\nthought ourselves in no danger, as they had hitherto used us kindly.\nHowever, we cut three boughs cut of a tree, sticking them at a distance\nfrom us, which it seems, in that country, is not only a token of truce\nand amity, but when poles or boughs are set up on the other side, it is\na sign the truce is accepted. In these treaties, however, there is one\nprincipal thing to be regarded, that neither party come beyond one\nanother's three poles or boughs; so that the middle space is not only\nsecure, but is also allowed as a market for traffic and commerce. When\nthe truce is thus accepted, they stick up their javelins and lances at\nthe first poles, and come on unarmed; but if any violence is offered,\naway they run to their poles, take up their weapons, and then the truce\nis at an end. This evening it happened that a greater number of people\nthan usual, both men and women, traded among us for such toys as we had,\nwith such great civility, that we made us a little tent, of large boughs\nof trees, some of the men resolving to lie on shore all night; but, for\nmy part, I and some others took our lodging in the boat, with boughs of\ntrees spread over it, having a sail spread at the bottom to lie upon.\nAbout two o'clock in the morning we were awakened by the firing of\nmuskets, and our men crying out for help, or else they would all be\nmurdered. Scarce had we time to get the boat ashore, when our men came\nplunging themselves into the water, with about four hundred of the\nislanders at their heels. We took up seven of the men, three of them\nvery much wounded, and one left behind killed, while the enemy poured\ntheir arrows so thick among us, that we were forced to make a barricade,\nwith boards lying at the side of the boat, to shield us from danger:\nand, having got ready our fire-arms, we returned them a volley, which\nwounded several of them, as we could hear by their cries. In this\ncondition we lay till break of day, and then making signals of distress\nto the ship, which my nephew the captain heard and understood, he\nweighed anchor, & stood as near the shore as possible, and then sent\nanother boat with ten hands in her to assist us; but we called to them\nnot to come near, informing them of our unhappy condition. However they\nventured; when one of the men taking the end of a tow-line in one hand,\nand keeping our boat between him and our adversaries, swam to us, and\nslipping our cables, they towed us, out of reach of their arrows, and\nquickly after a broadside was given them from the ship, which made a\nmost dreadful havoc among them. When we got on board, we examined into\nthe occasion of this fray. The men who fled informed us that an old\nwoman who sold milk within the poles, had brought a young woman with\nher, who carried roots or herbs, the sight of whom so much tempted our\nmen, that they offered rudeness to the maid, at which the old woman set\nup a great cry: nor would the sailors part with the prize, but carried\nher among the trees, while the old woman went, and brought a whole army\ndown upon them. At the beginning of the attack, one of our men was\nkilled with a lance, and the fellow who began the mischief, paid dear\nenough for his mistress, though as yet we did not know what had become\nof him; the rest luckily escaped. The third night after the action,\nbeing curious to understand how affairs stood, I took the supercargo and\ntwenty stout fellows with me, and landed about two hours before\nmidnight, at the same place where those Indians stood the night before,\nand there we divided our men into two bodies, the boatswain commanding\none, and I another. It was so dark, that we could see nobody, neither\ndid we hear any voice near us: but by & bye the boatswain falling over a\ndead body, we agreed to halt till the moon should rise, which he knew\nwould be in an hour after. We perceived here no fewer than two and\nthirty bodies upon the ground, whereof two were not quite dead.\nSatisfied with this discovery I was for going on board again; but the\nboatswain and the rest told me, they would make a visit to the Indian\ntown, where these dogs (so they called them) resided, asking me at the\nsame time to go along with them; for they did not doubt, besides getting\na good booty, but they should find Tom Jeffery there, for that was the\nunhappy man we missed. But I utterly refused to go, and commanded them\nback, being unwilling to hazard their lives, as the safety of the ship\nwholly depended upon them. Notwithstanding all I could say to them, they\nall left me but one, and the supercargo; so we three returned to the\nboat, where a boy was left, resolving to stay till they returned. At\nparting I told them I supposed most of them would run the same fate with\nTom Jeffery. To this they replied, _Come boys, come along, we'll warrant\nwe'll come off safe enough_; and so away they went, notwithstanding all\nmy admonitions, either concerning their own safety or the preservation\nof the ship. Indeed they were gallantly armed, every man having a\nmusket, bayonet, and a pistol, besides cutlasses, hangers, pole-axes,\nand hand granades. They came to a few Indian houses at first, which not\nbeing the town they expected they went farther, & finding a cow tied to\na tree, they concluded that she would be a sufficient guide, and so it\nproved; for, after they untied her, she led them directly to the town,\nwhich consisted of above two hundred houses, several families living in\nsome of the huts together. At their arrival, all being in a profound\nsleep, the sailors agreed to divide themselves into three bodies, and\nset three parts of the town on fire at once, to kill those that were\nescaping, and plunder the rest of the houses. Thus desperately resolved,\nthey went to work; but the first party had not gone far, before they\ncalled out to the rest, that they had found Tom Jeffery; whereupon they\nall ran up to the place, and found the poor fellow indeed hanging up\nnaked by one arm, and his throat almost cut from ear to ear. In a house\nthat was hard by the tree, they found sixteen or seventeen Indians, who\nhad been concerned in the fray, two or three of them being wounded, were\nnot gone to sleep: this house they set on fire first, and in a few\nminutes after, five or six places more in the town appeared in flames.\nThe conflagration spread like wild-fire, their housing being all of\nwood, and covered with flags or rushes. The poor affrighted inhabitants\nendeavoured to run out to save their lives, but they were driven back\ninto the flames by the sailors, and killed without mercy. At the first\nhouse above mentioned, after the boatswain had slain two with his\npole-ax, he threw a hand-granade into the house, which bursting, made a\nterrible havoc, killing and wounding most of them; and their king and\nmost of his train, who were then in that house, fell victims to their\nfury, every creature of them being either smothered or burnt. All this\nwhile they never fired a gun, lest the people should awaken faster than\nthey could overpower them. But the fire awakened them fast enough, which\nobliged our fellows to keep together in bodies. By this time the whole\ntown was in a flame, yet their fury rather increased, calling out to one\nanother to remember Tom Jeffery. The terrible light of this\nconflagration made me very uneasy, and roused my nephew the captain, and\nthe rest of his men, who knew nothing of the matter. When he perceived\nthe dreadful smoke, and heard the guns go off, he readily concluded his\nmen were in danger; he therefore takes another boat, and comes ashore\nhimself, with thirteen men well armed. He was greatly surprised to see\nme and only two men in the boat, but more so when I told him the story:\nbut though I argued with him, as I did with the men, about the danger\nof the voyage, the interests of the merchants and owners, and the\nsafety of the ship, yet my nephew, like the rest, declared, that he\nwould rather lose the ship, his voyage, his life and all, than his men\nshould be lost for want of help; and so away he went. For my part,\nseeing him resolved to go, I had not power to stay behind. He ordered\nthe pinnace back again for twelve men more, and then we marched directly\nas the flame guided us. But surely never was such a scene of horror\nbeheld, or more dismal cries heard, except when Oliver Cromwell took\nDrogheda in Ireland, where he neither spared man, woman, nor child.\nThe first object, I think, we met with, was the ruins of one of their\nhabitations, before which lay four men and three woman killed, and two\nmore burnt to death among the fire, which was now decaying. Nothing\ncould appear more barbarous than this revenge; none more cruel than the\nauthors of it. As we went on, the fire increased, and the cry proceeded\nin proportion. We had not gone much farther, when we beheld three naked\nwomen, followed by sixteen or seventeen men, flying with the greatest\nswiftness from our men, who shot one of them in our sight. When they\nperceived us, whom they supposed also their murderers, they set up a\nmost dreadful shriek, and both of them swooned away in the fright. This\nwas a sight which might have softened the hardest heart; and in pity we\ntook some ways to let them know we would not hurt them, while the poor\ncreatures with bended knees, and lifted up hands, made piteous\nlamentations to us to save their lives. I ordered our men not to hunt\nany of the poor creatures whatsoever; but being willing to understand\nthe occasion of all this, I went among these unhappy wretches, who\nneither understood me, nor the good I meant them. However being resolved\nto put an end to this barbarity, I ordered the men to follow me. We had\nnot gone fifty yards before we came up with the boatswain, with four of\nour men at his heels, all of them covered with blood and dust, and in\nsearch of more people to satiate their vengeance. As soon as we saw\nthem, we called out, and made them understand who we were; upon which\nthey came up to us, setting up a holloo of triumph, in token that more\nhelp was come. _Noble Captain_, said he to my nephew, _I'm glad your\ncome: we have not half done with these villainous hell-hound dogs;\nwee'll root out the very nation of them from the earth, and kill more\nthan poor Tom has hairs upon his head:_ and thus he went on till I\ninterrupted him.--\"Blood-thirsty dog,\" said I, \"will your cruelty never\nend? I charge you touch not one creature more; stop your hands and stand\nstill, or you're a dead man this moment.\" _Why Sir_, said he, _you\nneither know whom you are protecting, nor what they have done: but pray\ncome hither, and behold an instance of compassion, if such can merit\nyour clemency_; and with that he shewed me the poor fellow with his\nthroat cut, hanging upon the tree.\nIndeed, here was enough to fill their breasts with rage, which, however,\nI thought had gone too far, agreeable to these words of Jacob to his\nsons Simeon and Levi: _Cursed be their anger for it was fierce; and\ntheir wrath; for it was cruel._ But this sight made my nephew and the\nrest as bad as they: nay, my nephew declared, his concern was only for\nhis men; as for the people, not a soul of them ought to live. Upon this,\nthe boatswain and eight more directly turned about, and went to finish\nthe intended tragedy; which being out of my power to prevent, I returned\nback from the dismal sight, & the piteous cries of those unfortunate\ncreatures, who were made victims to their fury. Indeed, it was an\negregious piece of folly in me to return to the boat with but one\nattendant; and I had very near paid for it, having narrowly escaped\nforty armed Indians, who had been alarmed by the conflagration; but\nhaving passed the place where they stood, I got to the boat accompanied\nwith the supercargo, and so went on board, sending the pinnace back\nagain, to assist the men in what might happen. When I had got to the\nboat, the fire was almost extinguished, and the noise abated; but I had\nscarce been half an hour on board the ship, when I heard another volley\ngiven by our sailors, and a great smoke, which, as I afterwards found,\nwas our men falling upon those houses and persons that stood between\nthem and the sea; but here they spared the wives and children, and\nkilled only the men, to the number of about sixteen or seventeen. By the\ntime they got to the shore, the pinnace and the ship's boat were ready\nto receive them, and they all got safe on board, not a man of them\nhaving received the least hurt, except two, one of whom strained his\nfoot, and the other burnt his hand a little; for they met with no\nresistance, the poor Indians being unprepared, amazed, and confounded.\nI was extremely angry with every one of them, but particularly with the\ncaptain, who instead of cooling the rage of the men, had prompted them\non to further mischief: nor could he make me any other excuse, but that\nas he was a man, he could not master his passions at the sight of one of\nhis men so cruelly murdered. As for the rest, knowing they were not\nunder my command, they took no notice of any anger, but rather boasted\nof their revenge. According to all their accounts, they killed or\ndestroyed about 150 men, women, and children, besides burning the town\nto ashes. They took their companion Tom Jeffery from the tree, covered\nhim with some of the ruins, and so left him. But however this action of\nour men might seem to them justifiable, yet I always openly condemned it\nwith the appellation, of the Massacre of Madagascar. For tho' the\nnatives had slain this Jeffery, yet certainly he was the first\naggressor, by attempting to violate the chastity of a young innocent\nwoman, who ventured down to them, on the faith of the public\ncapitulation, which was so treacherously broken.\nWhile we were under sail, the boatswain would often defend this bloody\naction, by saying, that the Indians had broke the truce the night\nbefore, by shooting one of our men without just provocation: and what if\nthe poor fellow had taken a little liberty with the wench, he ought not\nto have been murdered in so villainous a manner: and that they had acted\nnothing but what the divine laws commissioned to be done to such\nhomicides. However I was in the same mind as before, telling them that\nthey were murderers, and bid them depend upon it that God would blast\ntheir voyage, for such an unparalleled piece of barbarity.\nWhen we came to the Gulph of Persia, five of our men, who ventured on\nshore, were either killed or made slaves by the Arabians, the rest of\nthem having scarce time to escape to their boat. This made me upbraid\nthem afresh with the just retribution of Heaven for such actions; upon\nwhich the boatswain very warmly asked me, _Whether those men on whom the\ntower of Siloam fell, were greater sinners than the rest of the\nGalileans? and besides, Sir_, said he, _none of these five poor men that\nare lost, were with us at the Massacre of Madagascar, as you call it,\nand therefore your representation is very unjust, and your application\nimproper. Besides_, added he, _you are continually using the men very\nill upon this account, and, being but a passenger yourself, we are not\nobliged to bear it; nor can we tell what evil designs you may have to\nbring us to judgment for it in England: and, therefore, if you do not\nleave this discourse, as also not concern yourself with any of our\naffairs, I will leave the ship, and not sail among such\ndangerous company._\nAll this I heard very patiently; but, it being often repeated, I at\nlength told him, the concern I had on board was none of his business;\nthat I was a considerable owner in the ship, and therefore had a right\nto speak in common, and that I was no way accountable to him, nor to any\nbody else. As no more passed for some time after, I thought all had been\nover. At this time we were in the road of Bengal, where, going on shore\nwith the supercargo one day, in the evening, as I was preparing to go on\nboard, one of the men came to me, and told me, I need not trouble myself\nto come to the boat, for that the cockswain and others had ordered him\nnot to carry me on board any more. This insulent message much surprised\nme; yet I gave him no answer to it, but went directly and acquainted the\nsupercargo, entreating him to go on board, and, by acquainting the\nCaptain with it, prevent the mutiny which I perceived would happen. But\nbefore I had spoken this, the matter was effected on board; for no\nsooner was he gone off in the boat, but the boatswain, gunner,\ncarpenter, and all the inferior officers, came to the quarter-deck,\ndesiring to speak with the Captain; & there the boatswain made a long\nharangue, exclaiming against me, as before mentioned, that, if I had not\ngone on shore peaceably, for my own diversion, they, by violence would\nhave compelled me, for their satisfaction: that as they had shipped with\nthe Captain, so they would faithfully serve him; but if I did not quit\nthe ship, or the Captain oblige me to it, they would leave the ship\nimmediately: hereupon, turning his face about by way of signal, they all\ncried out, \"ONE and ALL! ONE and ALL!\"\nYou may be sure, that though my nephew was a man of great courage, yet\nhe could not but be surprised at their sudden and unexpected behaviour;\nand though he talked stoutly to them, and afterwards expostulated with\nthem, that in common justice to me, who was a considerable owner in the\nship, they could not turn me as it were out of mine own house, which\nmight bring their lives in danger should they ever be taken in England;\nnay, though he invited the boatswain on shore to accomodate matters with\nme, yet all this I say, signified nothing; they would have nothing to do\nwith me; and they were resolved to go on shore if I came on board.\n_Well,_ said my nephew, _if you are so resolved, permit me to talk with\nhim, and then I have done; and so he came to me, giving me an account of\ntheir resolution, how one and all designed to forsake the ship when I\ncame on board, for which he was mightily concerned._ \"I am glad to see\nyou, nephew,\" said I, \"and rejoice it is no worse, since they have not\nrebelled against you; I only desire you to send my necessary things on\nshore, with a sufficient sum of money, and I will find my way to England\nas well as I can.\" Though this grieved my nephew to the heart, yet there\nwas no remedy but complience; in short, all my necessaries were sent me,\nand so this matter was over in a few hours.\nI think I was now near a thousand leagues farther off England by sea,\nthan at my little kingdom, except this difference, that I might travel\nby land over the Great Mogul's country to Surat, from thence to Baffora,\nby sea up the Persian Gulph, then take the way of the caravans over the\nArabian desert to Alleppo and Scanderoon, there take shipping to Italy,\nand so travel by land into France, and from thence cross the sea\nto England.\nMy nephew left me two persons to attend me; one of them was his servant,\nand the other clerk to the purser, who engaged to be mine. I took\nlodging in an English woman's house, where several French, one English,\nand two Italian merchants resided. The handsome entertainment I met with\nhere, occasioned me to stay nine months, considering what course I\nshould take. Some English goods I had with me of great value, besides a\nthousand pieces of eight, and a letter for more, if there was such\nnecessity. The goods I soon disposed of to advantage, and bought here\nseveral good diamonds, which I could easily carry about with me. One\nmorning the English merchant came to me, as being very intimate\ntogether, _countryman_, said he, _I have a project to communicate to\nyou, which I hope will suit to both our advantage. To be short, Sir, we\nare both in a remote part of the world from our country; but yet in a\nplace where men of business may get a great deal of money. Now, if you\nwill put a thousand pounds to my thousand pounds, we will hire a ship to\nour satisfaction; you shall be Captain, I will be merchant: and we'll go\na trading voyage to China, for why should we lie still like drones,\nwhile the whole world is in a continual motion_.\nThis proposal soon got my consent, being very agreeable to my rambling\ngenius; and the more so, because I looked upon my countryman to be a\nvery sincere person; it required some time before we could get a vessel\nto our mind, and sailors to man it accordingly; at length we bought a\nship, and got an English mate, boatswain, and gunner, a Dutch carpenter,\nand three Portuguese foremast men; and, for want of others, made shift\nwith Indian seamen. We first sailed to Achin, in the island of Sumatra,\nand then to Siam, where we bartered our wares for some arrack and opium,\nthe last of which bore a great price among the Chinese; in a word, we\nwent up to Suskan, making a very great voyage; &, after eight months\ntime, I returned to Bengal, very well satisfied with this adventure,\nhaving not only got a sufficient quantity of money, but an insight of\ngetting a great deal more.\nThe next voyage my friend proposed to me, was to go among the spice\nislands, and bring home a load of cloves from the Manillas, or\nthereabouts; islands belonging partly to Spain, but where the Dutch\ntrade very considerably. We were not long in preparing for this voyage,\nwhich we made no less successful than the last, touching at Borneo, and\nseveral other places which I do not perfectly remember, and returning\nhome in about five months time. We soon sold our spices, which were\nchiefly cloves and some nutmegs, to the Persian merchants, who carried\nthem away to the gulph; and, in short, making five to one advantage, we\nwere loaded with money.\nNot long after my friend and I had made up our accounts, to our entire\nsatisfaction, there came in a Dutch coaster from Batavia of about two\nhundred tons. The crew of this vessel pretended themselves so sickly,\nthat there were not hands sufficient to undertake a voyage; and the\nCaptain having given out that he intended to go to Europe, public notice\nwas given that the ship was to be sold. No sooner did this come to our\nears, but we bought the ship, paid the master, and took possession. We\nwould also have very willingly entertained some of the men; but they\nhaving received their share of booty, were not to be found, being\naltogether fled to Agra, the great city of the Mogul's residence; and\nfrom thence went to travel to Surat, and so by the sea to the Persian\nGulph. And indeed they had reason to fly in this manner; for the truth\nof it was the pretended Captain was the gunner only, and not the\ncommander; that having been on a trading voyage, they were attacked on\nshore by the Malayans, who killed three men and the Captain; after whose\ndeath the other eleven men ran away with the ship to the Bay of Bengal,\nand left the mate and five men more on shore: but of this affair we\nshall have occasion to speak more at length hereafter.\nHowever they came by the ship, we thought we bought it honestly; neither\ndid we suspect any thing of the matter, when the man showed us a bill of\nsale for the ship (undoubtedly forged) to one Emanuel Clostershoven,\nwhich name he went by. And so without any more to do, we picked up some\nDutch and English seamen, resolving for another voyage for cloves among\nthe Phillippine and Molucca Islands: in short, we continued thus five or\nsix years, trading from port to port with extraordinary success. In the\nseventh year, we undertook a voyage to China, designing to touch at\nSiam, and buy some rice by the way. In this voyage, contrary winds beat\nus up and down for a considerable time among the islands in the Straits\nof Molucca. No sooner were we clear of those rugged seas, but we\nperceived our ship had sprung a leak, which obliged us to put into the\nriver Cambodia, which lies northward of the Gulph, and goes up to Siam.\nOne day, as I was on shore refreshing myself, there comes to me an\nEnglishman, who was gunner's mate on board an English East India ship,\nriding up the river near the city of Cambodia. _Sir_, said he, _you may\nwonder at my business, having never seen me in your life; but tho' I am\na stranger, I have something to tell you that very nearly concerns you:\n& indeed it is the imminent danger you are in has moved me to give you\nthis timely notice_. \"Danger!\" said I, \"what danger? I know of none,\nexcept my ship being leaky, for which I design to have her run aground\nto-morrow morning\" _I hope you will be better employed when you shall\nhear what I have to say to you. You know the town of Cambodia is about\nfifteen leagues up this river; about three leagues on this side of it,\nthere lie two Dutch and three English ships. And would you venture here\nwithout considering what strength you have to engage them_? I knew not\nwhat he meant by this discourse, and turning short upon him, \"Sir,\" said\nI, \"I know no reason I have to be afraid either of any Dutch or English\nships. I am no interloper, and what business have they with me?\" _Well,\nSir,_ said the man, _if you do think yourselves secure, all as I can\nsay, you must take your chance; however, I am very sorry you are so deaf\nto good advice; but I assure you; if you do not put to sea immediately,\nyou will be attacked by five long-boats full of men, hanged yourself for\na pirate, if you are taken, and the particulars examined afterwards. I\nthought, Sir_, added he, _I might have met a better reception for such a\nsingular piece of service_. \"Sir,\" said I, \"I was never ungrateful to\nany man; but pray explain yourself and I'll go on board this minute,\nwhether the leak be stopped or no.\" _Why, Sir,_ said he, _to be short,\nbecause time is precious, the matter is this: You know well enough that\nyou was with the ship at Sumatra, when your Captain was murdered by the\nMalayans, with three of his sailors; and that either you, or some who\nwere on board you, ran away with the ship, and are since turned pirates\nat sea. Now, Sir, this is the sum of what I had to say: and I can\npositively assure you, that if you are taken, you will be executed\nwithout much ceremony, for undoubtedly you cannot but be sensible what\nlittle law merchant ships show to pirates, whenever they fall into\ntheir hands_.\n\"Sir,' said I, 'I thank you for your kind information; and though I am\nsure no man could come more honestly by the ship than I have done, yet\nknowing their enterprize, and being satisfied of your honest intention,\nI'll be upon my defence. _Pr'ythee, Sir,_ said the man, _don't talk of\nbeing upon your defence, the best that you can make is to be out of\ndanger; and therefore, if you have any regard for your life, & the lives\nof your men, take the advantage, without fail, of putting out to sea at\nhigh-water: by which means, as you have a whole tide before you, you\nwill be gone too far out of their reach before they can come down._\n\"I am mighty well satisfied,\" said I, \"in this particular, and for your\nkindness, which merits my great esteem; pray, Sir, what amends shall I\nmake you?\" He replied, \"I know not what amends you are willing to make,\nbecause you may have some doubts of its certainty: but, to convince you\nof the truth of what I say, I have one offer to make to you. On board\none of the English ships, I have nineteen months pay due to me, and this\nDutchman that is with me has seven months pay due to him, which if you\nwill make good to us, we will go along with you. If you shall find that\nthere is nothing in what we have said, then we shall desire nothing; but\nwhen you are convinced that we have saved the ship, your life, and the\nlives of the men, we will leave the whole to your generosity.\"\nSo reasonable did this every way appear, that I immediately consented,\nand we went directly on board. As soon as we came on board, my partner\ncalls joyfully out, _That they had stopped the leak?_ \"Well, thank God,\"\nsaid I, \"but pray let us weigh anchor forthwith.\"--_Weigh,_ said he,\n_what is the meaning of this hurry_? \"Pray ask no questions,\" said I,\n\"but all hands to work, without losing a moment's time.\" Upon which, in\ngreat surprise, the Captain was called, who immediately ordered the\nanchor to be got up; and though the tide was not quite down, yet being\nassisted with a little land breeze, we stood to sea. I then called my\npartner into the cabin, and related the story at large, which was\nconfirmed and more amplified by the two men I had brought on board.\nScarce had we finished our discourse upon this head, but a sailor came\nto the cabin door, with a message from the Captain, that we were chased\nby five sloops full of armed men. \"Very well,\" said I, \"it is plain now\nthere is something in it.\" And so, going upon deck, I told all the men\nthere was a design for seizing the ship, and of executing us for\npirates; and asked them whether they would faithfully stand by us, and\nby one another? To which they unanimously replied, \"That they would\nfight to their last drop of blood.\" I then asked the Captain, which way\nhe thought best for us to manage the battle? _Sir_, said he, _the only\nmethod is to keep them off with our great shot as long as we are able,\nand then have recourse to our small arms: and when both these fail us,\nthen retire to close quarters, when perhaps the enemy wanting materials,\ncan neither break open our bulk heads, nor get in upon us_. Meantime,\nthe gunner was ordered to bring two guns to bear fore and aft out of the\nsteerage, and so load them with musket-bullets and small pieces of old\niron; and the deck being cleared, we prepared for the engagement, still,\nhowever, keeping out at sea. The boats followed us, with all the sail\nthey could make, and we could perceive the two foremost were English,\nwhich out-sailed the rest by two leagues, and which we found would come\nup with us: hereupon, we fired a gun without a ball, intimating that\nthey should bring to, and we put out a flag of truce, as a signal for\nparley; but finding them crowding after us, till they came within shot,\nwe took in our white, and hanging out the red flap, immediately fired at\nthem with ball: we then called to them with a speaking trumpet, bidding\nthem at their peril keep off.\nBut all this signified nothing; for depending upon the strength that\nfollowed them, they were resolutely bent for mischief: hereupon I\nordered them to bring the ship to, by which means, they lying upon our\nbroadside, we let fly at them at once, one of whom carried away the\nstern of the hindermost boat, and obliged them not only to take down\ntheir sail, but made them all run to the head of the boat, to keep them\nfrom sinking, and so she lay by, having enough of it. In the meantime,\nwe prepared to welcome the foremost boat in the same manner. While we\nwere doing this, one of the three hindermost boats came up to the relief\nof that which was disabled, and took the men out of her. We again\ncalled to parley with them; but, instead of an answer, one of the boats\ncame close under our stern; whereupon our gunner let fly his two chase\nguns, but missing, the men in the boat shouted, and, waving their caps,\ncame on with greater fury. To repair this seeming disgrace, the gunner\nsoon got ready, and firing a second time, did a great deal of mischief\namong the enemy. We waved again, and, bringing our quarter to bear upon\nthem, fired three guns more, when we found the boat a sinking, and\nseveral men already in the sea; hereupon, manning our pinnace, I gave\norders to save as many as they could, and instantly to come on board,\nbecause the rest of their boats were approaching: accordingly they did\nso, and took up three of them, one of whom was almost past recovery; and\nthen crowding all the sail we could, after our men came on board, we\nstood out farther to sea, so that the other three boats gave over the\nchase, when they came up to the first two. Thus delivered from imminent\ndanger, we changed our course to the eastward, quite out of the course\nof all European ships.\nBeing now at sea, and inquiring more particularly of the two seamen, the\nmeaning of all this, the Dutchman at once let us into the secret. He\ntold us, that the fellow who sold us the ship was an errant thief, who\nhad run away with her; that the Captain was treacherously murdered on\nthe coast of Molucca by the natives there, with three of his men; that\nhe, the Dutchman, and four more, being obliged to have recourse to the\nwoods for their safety, at length escaped by means of a Dutch ship in\nits way to China, which had sent their boat on shore for fresh water:\nThat, after this, he went to Batavia, where two of the seamen belonging\nto the ship (who had deserted the rest in their travels) arrived, and\nthere gave an account that the fellow who ran away with the ship had\nsold her at Bengal to a set of pirates, who went a cruising, and had\nalready taken one English and two Dutch ship, richly laden.\nNow, tho' this was absolutely false, my partner truly said, that our\ndeliverance was to be esteemed so much the more, by reason, had we\nfallen into their hands, we could have expected nothing from them but\nimmediate death, considering our accusers would have been our judges;\nand, therefore, his opinion was to return directly to Bengal, where,\nbeing known, we could prove how honestly we came by the ship, of whom we\nbought her, and the like, and where we were sure of some justice; at\nleast would not be hanged first, and judged afterwards. I was at first\nof my partner's opinion, but when I had more seriously considered of the\nmatter, I told him, we ran a great hazard in attempting to return, being\non the wrong side of the Straits of Molucca and that, if, upon alarm\ngiven, we should be taken by the Dutch at Batavia, or English elsewhere,\nour turning away would be a sufficient evidence to condemn us. This\ndanger indeed startled not only my partner, but likewise all the ship's\ncompany; so we changed our former resolution, and resolved to go to the\ncoast of Tonquin, and so to that of China, where, pursuing our first\ndesign as to trade, we might likewise have an opportunity to dispose of\nthe ship some way or other, and to return to Bengal in any country\nvessel we could procure. This being agreed to, we steered away N.N.E.\nabout 50 leagues off the usual course to the east; which put us to some\ninconveniences. As the wind blew steadily against us, our voyage became\nmore tedious, and we began to be afraid of want of provision; and what\nwas still worse, we apprehended, that as those ships from whose boat we\nhad escaped, were bound to China, they might get before us, and have\ngiven fresh information, which might create another vigorous pursuit.\nIndeed, I could not help being grieved, when I considered that I who had\nnever wronged or defrauded any person in my life, was now pursued like a\ncommon thief, and if taken to run the greatest danger of being executed\nas such; and, though innocent, I found myself under the necessity of\nflying for my safety; and thereby escape being brought to shame, of\nwhich I was even more afraid than death itself. It was easy to read my\ndejection in my countenance. My mind was oppressed, like those unhappy\ninnocent persons, who being overpowered by blasphemous and perjured\nevidences, wickedly resolved to take away their lives, or ruin their\nreputation, have no other recourse in this world to ease their sorrow,\nbut sighs, prayers, and tears. My partner seeing me so concerned,\nencouraged me as well as he could; and, after describing to me the\nseveral ports of that coast, he told me, he would either put me in on\nthe coast of Cochinchina, or else in the bay of Tonquin, from whence we\nmight go to Macao, a town once possessed by the Portuguese, and where\nstill many European families resided.\nTo this place we steered, and, early next morning, came in sight of the\ncoast; but thought it advisable to put into a small river where we\ncould, either over land, or by the ship's pinnace, know what vessels\nwere in any ports thereabouts. This happy step proved our deliverance;\nfor, next morning, there came to the bay of Tonquin two Dutch ships, and\na third without any colours; and in the evening, two English ships\nsteered the same course. The river where we were was but small, and ran\nbut a few leagues up the country northward; the country was wild and\nbarbarous, and the people thieves, having no correspondence with any\nother nation; dealing only in fish, oil, and such gross commodities: and\none barbarous custom they still retained, that when any vessel was\nunhappily shipwrecked upon their coast, they make the men prisoners or\nslaves, so that now we might fairly say we were surrounded by enemies\nboth by sea and land.\nAs the ship had been leaky, we took the opportunity, in this place to\nsearch her, and to stop up the places which let in the water. We\naccordingly lightened her, and bringing our guns and other moveable\nthings to one side, we essayed to bring her down, that we might come to\nher bottom: but, upon second consideration, we did not think it safe to\nlet her lie on dry ground, neither indeed was the place convenient for\nit. The inhabitants not used to such a sight as to see a ship lie down\non one side; and heel in towards the shore, and not perceiving her men,\nwho were at work on her bottom, with stages and boats on the off side,\npresently imagined the ship had been cast away, and lay fast on the\nground. Agreeable to this supposition, they surrounded us with ten or\ntwelve large boats, with a resolution, undoubtedly to plunder the ship,\nand to carry away those they found alive for slaves to their king. But\nwhen they perceived our men hard at work on the ship's bottom and side,\nwashing, graving, and stopping her, it filled them all with such\nsurprise, that they stood gazing as though they were confounded. Nor\ncould we imagine what their design was; however, for fear of danger, we\nhanded down arms and ammunition to those at work, in order to defend\nthemselves; and, indeed, this precaution was absolutely necessary; for,\nin a quarter of an hour after, the natives, concluding it was really a\nshipwreck, and that we were saving our lives and goods, which they\nthought belonged to them, came down upon our men as though it had been\nin line of battle. We lay at present but in a very unfit posture to\nfight; and before the stages could be got down, or the men in the boat\ncome on board as they were ordered, the Cochinchinese were upon them,\nand two of their boats boarding our long boat, they began to lay hold of\nour men as prisoners. The first they seized was a stout English sailor,\nwho never fired his musket, like a fool, as I imagined, but laid it down\nin the boat: but he knew what he was doing; for, by main force, he\ndragged the Pagan out of the boat into ours by the two ears, and knocked\nhis brains out against the boat's gunnel; a Dutchman that was next him,\nsnatched up the musket, and knocked down five more with the but-end of\nit; however, this was doing very little to their number; but a strange\nunexpected accident, which rather merits laughter than any thing else,\ngave our men a complete victory over them.\nIt seems the carpenter, who was preparing to grave the outside of the\nship, as well as to pay the seams, where he caulked to stop the leaks,\nhad gotten two kettles just let down in the boat, one filled with\nboiling pitch, and the other with rosin, tallow, oil, and such stuffs as\nthe shipwrights use; the carpenter's man had a great iron ladle with\nwhich he used to supply the workmen with hot stuff, & as two of the\nenemies entered the boat where the fellow stood, he saluted them with a\nfull ladle of the hot boiling liquor; which, the poor creatures being\nhalf naked, made them roar out, and jump into the sea. _Well done,\nJack_, says the carpenter, _give them the other dose_: and so stepping\nforward himself, takes a mop, and dipping it into the pitch-pot, he and\nhis man so plentifully flung it among them, as that none escaped being\nscalded; upon which they all made the best of their way, crying and\nhowling in such a frightful manner, that, in all my adventures, I never\nheard the like. And, indeed, never was I better pleased with any\nconquest than I was with this, there being so little bloodshed, and\nhaving an aversion to killing such savage wretches, (more than was\nnecessary) as knowing they came on errands, which their laws and customs\nmade them think were just and equitable. By this time, all things being\nin order, and the ship swimming, they found their mistake, so they did\nnot venture a second attack. Thus ended our merry fight; and, having got\nrice, bread, roots, and sixteen good hogs on board the day before we set\nsail, not daring to go into the bay of Tonquin, but steering N.E. toward\nthe isle of Formosa, or as tho' we would go to the Manillas, or\nPhillippine islands, for fear of meeting with any European ships; when\nwe anchored at the isle of Formosa, the inhabitants not only courteously\nsupplied us with provisions and fresh water, but dealt very fairly and\nhonestly with us in their bargains and agreements. From this place we\nsteered north, keeping still off the coast of China, till we were beyond\nall its ports where European ships usually come; and, at length, being\ncome to the latitude of thirty degrees, we resolved to put into the\nfirst trading port we should come at; and standing for the shore, a boat\ncame off two leagues to us, with an old Portuguese pilot on board, who\noffered his service; we very gladly accepted him, and sent the boat back\nagain. And now, having the man on board, I talked to him of going to\nNanquin, the most northward part of the coast of China. _What will you\ndo there_? said he, smiling. I told him that we would sell our cargo,\nand purchase calicoes, raw and wrought silks, tea, &c. and so return the\nsame way back. _O_, said he, _you had better put in at Macao, where you\nmay buy China wares as cheap as at Nanquin, and sell your opium at a\ngreater advance_. \"But' said I 'we are gentlemen as well as merchants,\nand design to see the great city of Pekin, and the magnificent court of\nthe monarch of China,\" _Why then_, said he, _you should go to Ningpo,\nwhere is a navigable river that goes through the heart of that vast\nempire, two hundred and seventy leagues from the sea, which crosses all\nthe rivers, passes considerable hills, by the help of the sluices and\ngates, and goes even up to the city of Pekin. You may go to Nanquin if\nyou please, and travel to Pekin, and there is a Dutch ship just before\nbound that way_. At the name of a Dutch or English ship, I was struck\nwith confusion; they being as great a terror to me in this vessel, as an\nAlgerine man of war is to them in the Mediterranean. The old man finding\nme troubled, _Sir_, said he, _I hope the Dutch are not now at war with\nyour nation_. \"No,\" said I, \"but God knows what liberty they may take\nwhen out of the reach of the law.\" _Why_, says he _what occasion is\nthere for peaceable merchants to fear? For believe me, they never meddle\nwith any but PIRATES._\n[Illustration: The Carpenter and his man defeats the Cochinchinese.]\nAt the mentioning the word _pirates_, my countenance turned to that of\nscarlet; nor was it possible for me to conceal it from the old pilot;\nwho was taking notice of it, _Sir_, said he _take what course you\nplease, I'll do you all the service I can._ \"Seignior,\" said I, \"I am a\nlittle concerned at your mentioning pirates; I hope there are none such\nin these seas, because you see in what weak condition we are to defend\nourselves.\" _O, Sir_, said he, _if that's all, don't be concerned, I\ndon't remember one in these seas these fifteen years, except above a\nmonth ago one was seen in the bay of Siam, but he is gone to the\nsouthward; neither was she built for a privateer, but was run away with\nby a reprobate Captain, and some of his men, the right Captain having\nbeen murdered by the Malayans_.\n\"What,\" said I, (as though ignorant of what had happened) \"did they kill\nthe Captain?\" _No_, said he, _it is generally thought the Malayans\nmurdered him; but they justly deserve hanging. The rogues were lately\ndiscovered in the bay of Siam, in the river of Cambodia, by some\nDutchmen who belonged to the ship, and had much ado to escape the five\nboats that pursued them, but they have solemnly sworn to give no quarter\nto the Captain or the seamen but hang them every one up at the yard-arm,\nwithout any formal business of bringing them to a court of judicature_.\nBeing sensible, that, having the old man on board, he was incapable of\ndoing me any mischief, \"Well, Seignior, (said I) it is for this very\nreason I would have you carry us up to Nanquin, where neither English\nnor Dutch ships come; and I must tell you, their Captains are a parcel\nof rash, proud, insolent rascals, that neither know what belongs to\njustice, nor how to behave themselves as the laws of God or nature\ndirect; fellows that would prove murderers to punish robbers, and take\nupon them to adjudge innocent men to death, without any proof to prove\nthem guilty, but perhaps I may live to call them to account for it, in a\nplace where they may be taught how justice is to be executed.\" And so I\ntold him all the story of buying the ship, and how we were saved by the\nmeans of two men; that the murder of the Captain by the Malayans, as\nalso the running away with the ship, I believed to be true; but that\nwe, who bought it, were turned pirates, was a mere fiction to cover\ntheir cowardice and foolish behaviour, when they attacked us, & the\nblood of those men we killed in our own just defence, lay at their door,\nwho sent to attack us by surprise.\n\"Sir, (said the old man, amazed) you have taken the right course to\nsteer to the north, and, if I might advise you, I would have you sell\nyour ship in China, and buy or build another in that country; and I'll\nprocure people to buy the one and sell the other.\" \"Well, but, Seignior,\n(said I) if I sell the ship in this manner, I may bring some innocent\npersons into the same dangers I have gone through, perhaps worse, even\ndeath itself; whereby I should be as guilty of their murder as their\nvillainous executioners.\" \"That need not trouble you, (says the old man)\nI'll find a way to prevent that; for these commanders you talk of I know\nvery well, and will inform them rightly of the matter as you have\nrelated, and I am persuaded they will not only believe me, but act more\ncautiously for the future.\" \"And will you deliver one message from me to\nthem?\" \"Yes, (said he) if you will give it under your hand, that I may\nprove it is not of my own production,\" Hereupon I wrote a large account\nof their attacking me in their long-boat, the pretended reason and\nunjust design of it; that they had done what they might be ashamed of,\nand could not answer for at any tribunal in England. But this letter was\nwrit in vain. Providence ordered things another way. We sailed directly\nfor Nanquin, and in about thirteen day's sail, came to an anchor at the\nsouth-west point of the great gulf of that place, where we learned, that\ntwo Dutch ships were gone the length before us, and that we should\ncertainly fall into their hands. We were all at a great loss in this\nexigency, and would very gladly have been on shore almost any where; but\nour old pilot told me, that if I would sail to the southward about two\nand forty leagues, there was a little port called Quinchange, where no\nEuropean ships ever came, and where we might consider what was further\nto be done. Accordingly we weighed anchor the next day, calling only\ntwice on shore by the way to get fresh water. The country people very\ncourteously sold us roots, tea, rice, fowls, and other provisions. After\nfive days sail we came to the port, and landed with unspeakable joy. We\nresolved to dispose of ourselves and effects in any other way possible,\nthan enter on board that ill-fated vessel more; for no state can be more\nmiserable than a continued fear, which is a life of death, a confounder\nof our understandings, that sets the imagination at work to form a\nthousand frightful things that may never happen. And we scarce slept one\nnight without dreaming of halters, yard-arms, or gibbets, of fighting,\nbeing taken, and being killed; nay, so violent were our apprehensions,\nthat we would bruise our hands and heads against the sides of the\ncabin, as though actually engaged. The story of the Dutch cruelty at\nAmboyns, often came into our thoughts when awake; and, for my part, I\nthought my condition very hard; that after so many difficulties and such\nsignal deliverances, I should be hanged in my old age, though innocent\nof any crime that deserved such punishment; but then religion would seem\nto represent to me, as though the voice of it had said; 'consider, O\nman! what sins you have been formerly guilty of; which now thou art\ncalled to an account for, to expiate with thy blood! And as to thy\ninnocence, what art thou more innocent than thy blessed Redeemer, Jesus\nChrist, who suffered for thy offences, and to whose providence you ought\nto submit, let what will happen?' After this, natural courage would\ninspire me to resist to the last drop of blood, and sooner die than\nsuffer myself to be taken by boorish, rascally Dutchmen, who had arts to\ntorment beyond death itself.\nBut now, thank kind Heaven, being ashore; our old pilot procured us a\nlodging and a warehouse for our goods; it was a little hut with a large\nwarehouse joining to it, all built with canes, and pallisadoed round\nwith large ones, to keep out pilfering thieves, which are very numerous\nin that country. The magistrates allowed us a little guard during the\nnight, and we employed a centinel with a kind of halbert for three pence\na day. The fair, or mart, we found, had been over for some time;\nhowever, there remained in the river four junks and two Japan ships, the\nmerchants of the latter being on shore. In the first place, our old\npilot brought us acquainted with the missionary Roman priests, who were\nconverting the people to Christianity: two of them were reserved, rigid,\nand austere, applying themselves to the work they came about with great\nearnestness, but the third, who was a Frenchman, called Father Simon,\nwas of a freer conversation, not seemingly so serious and grave, yet no\nworse Christian than the other two, one of whom was a Portuguese, and\nthe other a Genoese. Father Simon, it seems, was appointed to go to\nPekin, the royal seat of the Emperor of the Chinese; and he only waited\nfor another priest, who was ordered from Macao to accompany him. We\nnever met together, but he was prompting me to accompany him in that\njourney: _Sir_, said he, _I will show you the glorious things of this\nmighty empire, and a city, the city of Pekin, far exceeding London and\nParis, put them both together_. One day in particular, being at dinner\nwith him, I showed some inclination to go; which made him press the more\nupon me and my partner, to gain our perfect consent. _But, Father\nSimon_, said my partner, _what satisfaction can you have in our company,\nwhom you esteem as heretics, and consequently objects not worthy your\nregard? O_, said he, _you may be as good Catholics in time as those I\nhope to convert to our religion. And so_, said I, _we shall have you\npreaching to us all the way, instead of pleasing us with a description\nof the country. Sir_, said he, _however our religion may be villified by\nsome people, it is very certain it neither divests us of good manners or\nChristian charity; and as we are gentlemen, as such we may converse\ntogether, without making one another uneasy_.\nBut we shall leave him a while, to consider our ship and the merchandise\nwhich we had to dispose of. There was but very little trade in the place\nwhere we were; and I was once resolved to venture to sail to the river\nKilam, and so to the city of Nanquin; but Providence ordered it\notherwise, by our old pilot's bringing a Japan merchant to us, to see\nwhat goods we had. He immediately bought our opium, for which he gave us\na very good price in gold by weight, some wedges of which were about ten\nor eleven ounces. It came into my head that perhaps he might buy the\nship too; and I ordered the interpreter to propose it to him. He said\nnothing then, but shrugged up his shoulders; yet in a few days after he\ncame accompanied by a missionary priest, who was his interpreter, with\nthis proposal, _That as he had bought a great quantity of our goods, he\nhad not money enough to purchase our ship; but if I pleased he would\nhire her, with all my men, to go to Japan, and from thence with another\nloading to the Philippine islands, the freight of both which he would\nvery willingly pay to us before; and at their return to Japan, would buy\nthe ship_. Upon this we asked the Captain and his men if they were\nwilling to go to Japan; to which they unanimously agreed. While this was\nin agitation, the young man my nephew left to attend me, told me, \"That\nas I did not care to accept his prospect of advantage he would manage it\nfor me as I pleased, and render me a faithful account of his success,\nwhich would be wholly mine.\" Indeed I was very unwilling to part with\nhim; but considering it might be for the young man's good, I discoursed\nwith my partner about it, who, of his own generosity, gave him his share\nof the vessel, so that I could do no otherwise than give him mine: but,\nhowever, we let him have but the proper half of it, and preserved a\npower, that when we met in England, if he had obtained success, he\nshould account to us for one half of the profit of the ship's freight\nand the other should be his own. Thus having taken a writing under his\nhand, away he sailed to Japan, where the merchant dealt very honestly by\nhim, got him a licence to come on shore, sent him loaded to the\nPhilippines with a Japanese supercargo, from whence he came back again\nloaded with European goods, cloves, and other spiceries. By this voyage\nhe cleared a considerable sum of money, which determined him not to sell\nhis ship, but to trade on his own account; so he returned to the\nManillas, where, getting acquaintance, he made his ship free, was hired\nby the governor privately to go to Acapulco in America, on the Mexican\ncoast, with a licence to travel to the great city of Mexico. This\ntraffic turned out greatly to account, and my friend finding means to\nget to Jamaica, returned nine years after exceedingly rich into England.\nIn parting with the ship, it comes in course to consider of those men\nwho had saved our lives when in the river of Cambodia; and though, by\nthe way, they were a couple of rogues, who thought to turn pirates\nthemselves, yet we paid them what they had before demanded, and gave\neach of them a small sum of money, making the Englishman a gunner, and\nthe Dutchman a boatswain, with which they were very well contented.\nWe were now about 1000 leagues farther from home, than when at Bengal.\nAll the comfort we could expect was, that there being another fair to be\nkept in a month's time, we might not only purchase all sorts of that\ncountry's manufactures, but very possibly find some Chinese junks, or\nvessels from Tonquin, to be sold, which would carry us and our goods\nwheresoever we pleased. Upon these hopes, we resolved to continue; and,\nto divert ourselves, we took several little journies in the country.\nAbout ten days after we parted with the ship, we travelled to see the\ncity of Nanquin. The city lies in latitude 30 degrees north of the line:\nit is regularly built, and the streets are exactly straight, and cross\none another in direct lines, which sets it out to the greatest\nadvantage. At our return, we found the priest was come from Macao, that\nwas to accompany Father Simon to Pekin. That Father earnestly solicited\nme to accompany him, & I referred him to my partner. In short, we both\nagreed, and prepared accordingly; and we were so lucky as to have\nliberty to travel among the retinue of one of their Mandarines, who is a\nprincipal magistrate, and much reverenced by the people.\nWe were five and twenty days travelling thro' this miserable country,\ninfinitely populous, but as indifferently cultivated; and yet their\npride is infinitely greater than their poverty, insomuch that they\npriests themselves derided them. As we passed by the house of one of\ntheir country gentlemen, two leagues off Nanquin, we had the honour,\nforsooth, to ride with the Chinese squire about two miles. Never was Don\nQuixote so exactly imitated! Never such a compound of pomp and poverty\nseen before!\nHis habit, made of calico, was dirty, greasy, and very proper for a\nMersy Andrew or Scaramouch, with all its tawdry trappings, as hanging\nsleeves, tassels, &c. though torn and rent in almost every part; his\nvest underneath it was no less dirty, but more greatly; resembling the\nmost exquisite sloven or greasy butcher; his horse (worse than\nRosinante, or the famous steed of doughty Hudibras) was a poor starved\ndecrepid thing, that would not sell for thirty shillings in England;\nand yet this piece of worshipful pomp was attended with ten or twelve\nslaves who guarded their master to his country seat. We stopped at a\nlittle village for refreshment; and when we came by the country seat of\nthis great man, we found him sitting under a tree before his door,\neating a mess of boiled rice, with a great piece of garlic in the\nmiddle, and a bag filled with green pepper by him, and another plant\nlike ginger, together with a piece of lean mutton in it: this was his\nworship's repast: but pray observe the state of the food! two women\nslaves brought him his food, which being laid before him, two others\nappeared to perform their respective offices; one fed him with a spoon,\nwhile the other scraped off what fell upon his beard and taffety vest,\nand gave it to a particular favourite to eat. And thus we left the\nwretch pleased with the conceit of our admiring his magnificence, which\nrather merited our scorn and detestation.\nAt length we arrived at the great city of Pekin, accompanied by two\nservants, and the old Portuguese pilot, whose charges we bore, and who\nserved us as an interpreter by the way. We had scarce been a week at\nPekin, but he comes laughing to us. \"Ah! Seignior Inglise, (said he) me\nsomething tell you make your heart glad, but make me sorry: for your\nbring me here twenty-five days journey, and now you leave me go back\nalone; and which way shall I make my port after, without de ship,\nwithout de horse, without pecune?\" so he called money in his broken\nLatin. He then informed me, that there was a great caravan of Muscovite\nand Polish merchants in the city, who were preparing to set out for\nMuscovy by land within six weeks; and, that he was certain we would take\nthis opportunity, and consequently that he must go home by himself.\nIndeed this news infinitely surprised & pleased me. \"Are you certain of\nthis?\" said I, \"Yes, Sir, (says he) me sure its true.\" And so he told\nme, that having met an old acquaintance of his, an Armenian, in the\nstreet, who was among them, and who had come from Astracan, with a\ndesign to go to Tonquin, but for certain reasons having altered his\nresolutions, he was now resolved to go with the caravan, and to return\nby the river Wolga to Astracan. \"Well, Seignior, (said I) don't be\ndiscontented about your returning alone; and if, by this means, I can\nfind a passage to England, it will be your own fault if you return to\nMacao at all.\" And so consulting with my partner what was best to be\ndone, he referred it to me as I pleased, having our affairs so well\nsettled at Bengal, that if he could convert the good voyage he had made\nin China silks, wrought or raw, he would be satisfied to go to England;\nand so return to Bengal in the Company's ships. Thus resolved, we agreed\nthat if our pilot would go with us, we would bear his charges either to\nMoscow or England; and to give him in a present the sum of one hundred\nand seventy pounds sterling. Hereupon we called him in, and told him the\ncause of his complaint should be removed, if he would accompany us with\nthe caravans; and, therefore, we desired to know his mind. At this he\nshook his head, \"Great long journey, (said he) me no pecune carry me to\nMoscow, or keep me there.\" But we soon put him out of that concern, by\nmaking him sensible of what we would give him here to lay out the best\nadvantage; and, as for his charges, we would set him safe on shore, God\nwilling, either in Muscovy or England, as he pleased, at our own charge,\nexcept the carriage of his goods. At this proposal, he was like a man\ntransported, telling us he would go with us all the world over; and we\nmade preparations for our journey; but it was near four months before\nall the merchants were ready.\nIn the mean time, my partner and the pilot went express to the port\nwhere we first put in, to dispose of what goods had been left there,\nwhile I accompanied a Chinese merchant who was going to Nanquin, and\nthere bought twenty-nine pieces of damask, with about three hundred more\nof other fine silks; and, by the time my partner returned to Pekin, I\nhad them all carried thither; our cargo in silks amounted to 45col.\nsterling, which, together with tea, fine calicoes, nutmegs, and cloves,\nloaded eighteen camels for our share, besides what we rode upon, with\ntwo or three spare horses, and two more loaden with provisions; the\ncompany now was very great, making about four hundred horse, and above\none hundred and twenty men, well armed and provided. We were of several\nnations, among whom were five Scotch merchants, inhabiting in Moscow,\nand well experienced in trade.\nWe set out from Pekin the beginning of February our stile; and in two\ndays more, we passed through the gate of the great China wall, which was\nerected as a fortification against the Tartars, being one hundred\nEnglish miles long. We then entered a country not near so populous,\nchiefly under the power of plundering Tartars, several companies of whom\nwe perceived riding on poor starved horses, contemptible as themselves\nwithout order of discipline. One time our leader, for the day, gave us\nleave to go a hunting; but what do you think we hunted? only a parcel of\nsheep, which indeed exceeded any in the world for wildness and\nswiftness; but while we were pursuing this game, it was our chance to\nmeet with about forty Tartars, who no sooner perceived us, but one of\nthem blew a horn, at the sound of which there soon appeared a troop of\nforty or fifty more, at about a mile's distance. Hereupon, one of the\nScots merchants (who knew their ways) ordered us to advance towards\nthem, and attack them immediately, As we advanced, they let fly a\nvolley of arrows, which happily fell a little short of us; this made us\nhalt a little, to return the compliment with bullets; and then being led\nup by the bold Scot, we fired our pistols in their faces, and drew out\nour swords; but there was no occasion; for they flew like timorous\nsheep, & only three of them remained, beckoning to the rest to come\nback. But our brave commander gallops up to them by himself, shot one\ndead, knocked another of his horse, while the third ran away; and thus\nended our battle with the Tartars.\nWe travelled a month more through the Emperor of China's dominions; and\nat length coming to one of their towns about a day and a half's journey\nfrom the city of Naum, I wanted to buy a camel. The person I spoke to\nwould have brought me one, but, like a fool, I must go along with him,\nabout two miles from the village. My old pilot and I walked on foot,\nforsooth, for some variety, when coming to the place where the camels\nwere kept as in a park guarded by Chinese soldiers, we there agreed and\nbought one, which the Chinese man that came along with me led along the\nroad. But we had not gone far, before we were attacked by five Tartars,\nmounted on horseback, two of whom seized the man, took the camel from\nhim, and rode away, while the other three approached us, the first of\nwhom suddenly seized me as I was drawing my sword, the second; knocked\nme down, but my old trusty Portuguese taking a pistol out of his pocket,\nwhich I knew nothing of, and coming up to the fellow that struck me, he\nwith one hand pulled him off his horse, and then shot him dead upon the\nspot; then taking his scymitar, he struck at the man that stopped us,\nbut missing him, cut off one of his horses ears, the pain of which made\nhim throw his rider to the ground. The poor Chinese who had led the\ncamel, seeing the Tartar down, runs to him, and seizing upon his\npole-ax, wrenched it from his hands, and knocked his brains out. But\nthere was another Tartar to deal with, who seeming neither inclined to\nfight nor fly, and my old man having begun to charge his pistol, the\nvery sight of it struck such a terror into the wretch, that away he\nscoured, leaving my old pilot, rather my champion and defender, an\nabsolute victory.\nBy this time being awakened from my trance, I began to open my eyes,\nwondering where I was, having quite forgot all that passed; but my\nsenses returning, and feeling a great pain in my head, and seeing the\nblood was running over my clothes, I instantly jumped upon my feet, and\ngrasped my sword in my hand, with a resolution to take revenge: but no\nenemies now remained, except the dead Tartar, with his horse standing by\nhim. The old man seeing me recovered, whom he thought slain, ran towards\nme, and embraced me with the greatest tenderness, at the same time\nexamining into my wound, which was far from being mortal. When we\nreturned to the village, the man demanded payment for his camel, which I\nrefusing, we brought the cause, before a Chinese judge, who acted with\ngreat impartiality: Having heard both sides, he asked the Chinese man\nthat went with me, whose servant he was? _Sir,_ said he, _I am nobody's,\nbut went with the stranger at his request: Why then_, said the judge,\n_you are the stranger's servant for the time, and the camel being\ndelivered to his servant, it is the same as though delivered to himself,\nand accordingly he must pay for it._ Indeed the case was so fairly\nstated, that I had nothing to object to it; so, having paid for that I\nwas robbed of, I sent for another, but did not go myself to fetch it, as\nI had enough of that sport before.\nThe city of Naum is a frontier of the Chinese empire, so fortified, as\nsome will tell you, that millions of Tartars cannot batter down their\nwalls; by which certainly one might think one of our cannons would do\nmore execution than all their legions.\nWhen we were within a day's march of that city, we had information that\nthe governor had sent messengers to every part of the road, to inform\nthe travellers and caravans to halt, till a guard was sent to protect\nthem from the numerous bodies of Tartars that lately appeared about the\ncity. This news put us into great consternation; but, obeying the\norders, we stopt; & two days after, there came two hundred soldiers from\na garrison of the Chinese, and three hundred more from Naum; thus\nguarded both in the front and rear, with our own men in the flanks, we\nboldly advanced, thinking we were able to combat with ten thousand Mogul\nTartars, if they appeared.\nEarly next morning, in our march from a little well situated town called\nChangu, after having passed a river, and entered upon a desert of about\nfifteen or sixteen miles over, we soon beheld by a cloud of dust that\nwas raised, that the enemy was approaching. This much dispirited the\nChinese. My old pilot took notice of it, and called out, _Seignor\nInglise, those fellows must be encouraged, or they will ruin us all, and\nI am afraid if the Tartars attack us, they will all run away_. \"Why,\nSeignor, (said I), what shall be done in this case?\" _Done_, says he,\n_why let fifty of our men advance, and flank them on each wing. I know\nthe fellows will fight well enough in company_. We accordingly took his\nadvice, and marched fifty to the right wing, and the same number to the\nleft, and with the rest made a line of reserve, leaving the last two\nhundred men to guard the camels, or to assist us, as occasion required.\nThus prepared, a party of the enemy came forward, viewing our posture,\nand traversing the ground on the front of our line. Hereupon we ordered\nthe two wings to move on, and give them a salute with their shot; which\naccordingly was done. This put a stop to their proceedings; for\nimmediately wheeling off to their left, they all marched away, and we\nsaw no more of them. They had undoubtedly given an account to their\ncompanions of what reception they might expect, which made them to\neasily give over their enterprize.\nWhen we came to the city of Naum, we returned the governor hearty\nthanks, and distributed a hundred crowns among the soldiers that guarded\nus. We rested there one day, and then proceeded on our travels, passing\nseveral great rivers and deserts and on the 13th of April we came to the\nfrontiers of Muscovy, the first town of which was called Argun.\nThis happy occasion, as I thought, of coming into a Christian country,\nmade me congratulate the Scots merchant upon it. He smiled at that,\ntelling me not to rejoice too soon; _for_, said he, _except the Russian\nsoldiers in garrison, and a few inhabitants of the cities upon the road,\nall the rest of this country, for above a thousand miles, is inhabited\nby the most ignorant and barbarous Pagans_.\nWe advanced from the river Arguna, by moderate journies and found\nconvenient garrisons on the road, filled with Christian soldiers for the\nsecurity of commerce, and for the convenient lodgings of travellers: but\nthe inhabitants of the country were mere Pagans, worshiping the sun,\nmoon, and stars. We particularly observed this idolatry near the river\nArguna, at a city inhabited by Tartars and Russians, called Nerisinkey.\nBeing curious to see their way of living, while the caravan continued to\nrest themselves in that city, I went to one of their villages, where\nthere was to be one of their solemn sacrifices.\nThere I beheld upon the stump of an old tree, an idol of wood, more ugly\nthan the representation of the devil himself: its head resembled no\nliving creature; its ears were as big and as high as goat's horns, a\ncrooked nose, four-cornered mouth, and horrible teeth: it was clothed in\nsheep skins, had a great Tartar bonnet, with two horns growing thro' it,\nand was eight feet high, without feet, legs or proportion. Before this\nidol their lay sixteen or seventeen people, who brought their offerings,\nand were making their prayers, while at a distance stood three men and\none bullock, as victims to this ugly monster.\nSuch stupendous sacrilege as this, in robbing the true God of his\nhonour, filled me with the greatest astonishment and reflection: which\nsoon turning to rage and fury, I rode up to the image, and cut in pieces\nthe bonnet that was upon his head with my sword, so that it hung down by\none of the horns, while one of my men that was with me pulled at it by\nhis sheep-skin garment. Immediately an hideous howling and outcry ran\nthrough the village, and two or three hundred people coming about our\nears, we were obliged to fly for it.\nBut I had not done with the monster; for the caravan being to rest\nthree nights in the town, I told the Scots merchant what I had seen, and\nthat I was resolved to take four or five men well armed with me, in\norder to destroy the idol, and show the people how little reason they\nhad to trust in a god who could not save himself. At first he laughed at\nme, representing the danger of it, and when it was destroyed, what time\nhad we to preach to them better things, whole zeal and ignorance was in\nthe highest degree, and both unparalleled? that if I should be taken by\nthem, I should be served as a poor ruffian, who contemned their worship;\nthat is, to be stripped naked, and tied to the top of the idol, there\nshot at with arrows till my body was fall of them, and then burnt as a\nsacrifice to the monster; _but Sir_, said he, _since your zeal carries\nyou so far, rather than you should be alone I will accompany you, and\nbring a stout fellow equal to yourself, if you will, to assist you in\nthis design:_ and accordingly he brought one Captain Richardson, who,\nhearing the story, readily consented; but my partner declined it, being\naltogether out of his way: and so we three, and my servant, resolved to\nexecute this exploit about midnight; but upon second thoughts we\ndeferred it to the next night, by reason that the caravan being to go\nfrom hence the next morning, we should be out of the governor's power.\nThe better to effectuate my design, I procured a Tartar's sheep-skin\nrobe, a bonnet, with bow and arrows, and every one of us got the like\nhabits, the first night we spent in mixing combustible matter with aqua\nvitae, gunpowder, &c. having a good quantity of tar in a little pot:\nnext night we came up to the idol about eleven o'clock, the moon being\nup. We found none guarding it; but we perceived a light in the house,\nwhere we had seen the priests before. One of our men was for firing the\nhut, another for killing the people, and a third for making them\nprisoners, while the idol was destroyed. We agreed to the latter; so\nknocking at the door, we seized the first that opened it, and stopping\nhis mouth and tying his feet, we left him. We served the other two in\nthe like manner; and then the Scots merchant set fire to the\ncomposition, which frightened them so much, that we brought them all\naway prisoners to their wooden god. There we fell to work with him,\ndaubing him all over with tar mixed with tallow and brimstone stopping\nhis eyes, ears, and mouth full of gunpowder, with a great piece of\nwild-fire in his bonnet, and environed it with dry forage. All this\nbeing done, we unloosed and ungagged the prisoners, and set the idol on\nfire, which the gunpowder blowing up, the shape of it was deformed, rent\nand split, which the forage utterly consumed; for we staid to see its\ndestruction, lest the ignorant idolatrous people should have thrown\nthemselves into the flames, And thus we came away undiscovered, in the\nmorning appearing as busy among our fellow travellers, as no body could\nhave suspected any other, but that we had been in our beds all night.\nNext morning we let out, and had gone but a small distance from the\ncity, when there came a multitude of people of the country to the gates\nof the city, demanding satisfaction of the Ruffian governor for\ninsulting their priests, and burning their great Cham Cai-Thaungu, who\ndwelt in the sun, and no mortal would violate this image but some\nChristian miscreants; and being already no less than thirty thousand\nstrong, they announced war against him and all his Christians.\nThe governor assured them he was ignorant of the matter, and that none\nof his garrison had been abroad; that indeed there was a caravan that\nwent away that morning, and that he would send after them to inquire\ninto it; and whoever was the offender, should be delivered into their\nhands. This satisfied them for the present, but the governor sent to\ninform us, that if any of us had done it, we should make all the haste\naway possible, while he kept them in play as long as he could. Upon this\nwe marched two days and two nights, stopping but very little, till at\nlast we arrived at a village called Plothus, and hasted to Jerawena,\nanother of the Czar's colonies. On the third day, having entered the\ndesert, and passed the lake called Shaks Oser, we beheld a numerous body\nof horde on the other side or it to the north, who supposed we had\npassed on that side of the lake; but either having found the mistake, or\nbeing certainly informed of the way we took, they came upon us towards\nthe dusk of the evening, just as we had pitched our camp between two\nlittle but very thick woods, with a little river running before our\nfront and some felled trees with which we covered our rear; a precaution\nwe always took, and which we had just finished when the enemy came up.\nThey did not fall on us immediately, but sent three messengers,\ndemanding the men who had insulted their priests, & burnt their god,\nCham Chi-Thaungu, that they might be burnt with fire; that if this was\ncomplied with, they would peaceably depart; but if not, they would\ndestroy one and all of us. Our men stared at one another on receipt of\nthis message, but Nobody was the word, as indeed nobody knew it, but he\nwho did it. Upon which the leader of the caravan returned for answer,\n_That they were peaceable merchants, who meddled with none of their\npriests and gods and therefore desired, them not to disturb us, and put\nus to the necessity of defending ourselves_. But do far was this from\nsatisfying them, that the next morning coming to our right, they let fly\na volley of arrows among us, which happily did not hurt any, because we\nsheltered ourselves behind our baggage. We expected however to come to a\ncloser engagement; but were happily saved by a cunning fellow, a\nCossack, who obtaining leave of the leader to go out, mounts his horse,\nrides directly from our rear, and taking a circuit, comes up to the\nTartars, as tho he had been sent express, and tells them a formal story,\nthat the wretches who had burnt the Cham Chi-Thaungu, were gone to\nShiheilka, with a resolution to burn the god Shal-Ifar, belonging to the\nTongueses. Upon which, believing this cunning Tartar, who was servant to\nour Muscovites, away they drove to Shiheilka, and in less than three\nminutes were out of sight, nor did we ever hear of them more.\nWhen we came to the city of Jarawena, we rested five days, and then\nentered into a frightful desert, which held us twenty-three days march,\ninfested with several small companies of robbers, or Mogul Tartars, who\nnever had the courage to attack us. After we had passed over this\ndesert, we found several garisons to defend the caravans from the\nviolence of the Tartars. In particular the Governor of Adinskoy offered\nus a guard of fifty men to the next station, if we apprehended any\ndanger. The people here retained the same paganism and barbarity, only\nthey were not so dangerous, being conquered by the Muscovites. The\nclothing, both of men & women, is of the skins of beasts, living under\nthe ground in vaults & caves, which have a communication with one\nanother. They have idols almost in every family; besides, they adore the\nsun and stars, water and snow; and the least uncommon thing that happens\nin the elements, alarms them as much as thunder and lightning does the\nunbelieving Jews.\nNothing remarkable occurred in our march through this country. When we\nhad gone through the desert, after two days farther travel; we came to\nJenezoy, a Muscovite city, on the great river so called, which we were\ntold, parted Europe from Asia. The inhabitants here were very little\nbetter, though intermixed with the Muscovites, but the wonder will\ncease, when I inform my readers of what was observed to me, that the\nCzar rather converts the Tartars with soldiers than clergymen, and is\nmore proud to make them faithful subjects, than good Christians.\nFrom this city to the river Oby, we travelled over a pleasant, fruitful,\nbut very uncultivated country, for want of good management and people,\nand those few are mostly Pagans. This is the place where the Muscovite\ncriminals are banished to, if they are not put to death. The next city\nwe came to, was the capital city of Siberia, called Tobolski when having\nbeen almost seven months on our journey, and winter drawing on apace, my\npartner and I consulted about our particular affairs in what manner we\nshould dispose of ourselves. We had been told of sledges and rein-deer\nto carry us over the snow in the winter season, the snow being frozen so\nhard, that the sledges can run upon the surface without any danger of\ngoing down. As I was bound to England, I now behoved either to go with\nthe caravan to Jerosaw, from thence west to Marva, and the gulph of\nFinland, and so by land or sea to Denmark; or else I must leave the\ncaravan at a little town on the Dwina, and so to Archangel, where I was\ncertain of shipping either to England, Holland, or Hamburgh. One night I\nhappened to get into the company of an illustrious, but banished Prince,\nwhose company and virtues were such as made me to propose to him a\nmethod how he might obtain his liberty. _My dear friend_, said he, _as I\nam here happily free from my miserable greatness with all its attendants\nof pride, ambition, avarice, and luxury, if I should escape from this\nplace, those pernicious seeds may again revive, to my lasting\ndisquietude; therefore let me remain in a blessed confinement, for I am\nbut flesh, a mere man, with passions and affections as such; O be not my\nfriend and tempter too!_ Struck dumb with surprise, I stood silent\na-while; nor was he less in disorder, by which perceiving he wanted to\ngive vent to his mind, I desired him to consider of it, and so withdrew.\nBut about two hours after he came to my apartment: _Dear friend_, said\nhe, _though I cannot consent to accompany you, I shall have this\nsatisfaction in parting, that you leave me an honest man still: but as a\ntestimony of my affection to you, be pleased to accept this present\nof sables_.\nIn return for his compliment, I sent my servant next morning to his\nLordship with a small present of tea, two pieces of China damask, and\nfour little wedges of gold; but he only accepted the tea, one piece of\ndamask, and one piece of gold, for the curiosity of the Japan stamp that\nwas upon it. Not long after he sent for me, and told me, _that what he\nhad refused himself, he hoped upon his account, I would grant to another\nwhom he should name:_ In short it was his only son, who was about two\nhundred miles distant from him, on the other side of the city, whom he\nsaid he would send for, if I gave my consent. This I soon complied with;\nupon which he sent his servants next day for his son, who returned in\ntwenty days time, bringing seven horses loaded with valuable furs. At\nnight the young Lord was conducted incognito into our apartment, where\nhis father presented him to me. We then concerted the best ways for\ntravelling, and after having bought a considerable quantity of sables,\nblack fox-skins, fine ermines, &c. (which I sold at Archangel at a good\nprice) we set out from this city the beginning of June, making a small\ncaravan, being about thirty-two horses and camels, of which I\nrepresented the head. My young Lord had with him a very faithful\nSiberian servant, well acquainted with the roads: We shunned the\nprincipal towns and cities, as Tumen, Soli Kamoskoi, and several others,\nby reason of their strictness in examining travellers, lest any of the\nbanished persons of distinction should escape. Having passed the river\nKama, we came to a city on the European side, called Soloy Kamoskoi,\nwhere we found the people mostly Pagans as before. We then passed a\ndesert of about two hundred miles over; but in other places it is near\nseven hundred. In passing this wild place, we were beset by a troop of\nmen on horseback, and about five and forty men armed with bows and\narrows. At first they looked earnestly on us, and then placed themselves\nin our way. We were above sixteen men, and drew up a little line before\nour camels. My young Lord sent out his Siberian servant, to know who\nthey were; but, when he approached them, he neither knew a word they\nsaid; nor would they admit him to come near them at his peril, but\nprepared to shoot him. At his return, he told us he believed them to be\nCalmuc Tartars; and that there were more upon the desert. This was but a\nsmall comfort to us; yet seeing a little grove, about a quarter of a\nmile's distance, we moved to it, by the old Portuguese pilot's advice,\nwithout meeting with any opposition. Here we found a marshy piece of\nground, and a spring of water running into a little brook on one side,\nwhich joined another like it a little further off, and these two formed\nthe head of the river called Writska. As soon as we arrived, we went to\nwork, cutting great arms off the trees, and laying them hanging (not\nquite off from one tree to another). In this situation we waited the\nmotion of the enemy, without perceiving any advancement they made\ntowards us. About two hours before night, being joined by some others,\nin all about fourscore horse, among whom we fancied were some women,\nthey came upon us with great fury. We fired without ball, calling to\nthem in the Russian tongue, to know their business; but they, either not\nknowing, or seeming not to understand us, came directly to the wood\nside, nor considering that we were to be fortified, as that they could\nnot break in. Our old pilot, the Portuguese, proved both our captain and\nengineer, and desired us not to fire, till they came within pistol shot;\nand when he gave the word of command, then to take the surest aim: but\nhe did not bid us give fire, till they were within two pikes length of\nus, and then we filled fourteen of them, wounded several, as also their\nhorses, having every one of us loaded our pieces with two or three\nbullets at least. So much were they surprised at our undauntedness, that\nthey retired about a hundred roods from us. In the mean while we loaded\nour pieces again, and sallying out, secured four or five of their\nhorses, whose riders we found were killed, and perceived them to be\nTartars. About an hour after, they made another attempt, to see where\nthey might break in; but finding us ready to receive them, they retired.\nAll that night we wrought hard, in strengthening our situation, and\nbarricading the entrances into the woods; but when day-light came, we\nhad a very unwelcome discovery; for the enemy, being encouraged by\ntheir numbers, had set up eleven or twelve tents, in form of a camp,\nabout three quarters of a mile from us. I must confess, I was never more\nconcerned in my life, giving myself and all that I had over for lost.\nAnd my partner declared, that as the loss of his goods would be his\nruin, before they should be taken from him, he would fight to the last\ndrop of his blood. As we could not pretend to force our way, we had\nrecourse to a stratagem; we kindled a large fire, which burnt all night;\nand no sooner was it dark, but we pursued our journey towards the pole\nor north star, and travelling all night; by six o'clock in the morning\nwe came to a Russian village called Kertza, and from thence came to a\nlarge town named Ozonzoys, where we heard that several troops of Calmuc\nTartars had been abroad upon the desert, but that we were past all\ndanger. In five days after we came to Veuslima, upon the river Witzedga;\nfrom thence we came to Lawrenskoy, on the third of July, where,\nproviding ourselves with two luggage boats, and a convenient bark, we\nembarked the seventh, and arrived at Archangel the eighteenth, after a\nyear, five months, and three days journey, including the eight months\nand odd days at Tobolski. We came from Archangel the 20th of August in\nthe same year, and arrived at Hamburg the 30th of September. Here my\npartner and I made a very good sale of our goods, both those of China\nand Siberia; when dividing our effects, my share came to 3475l. 17s. 3d.\nafter all the losses we had sustained, and charges we had been at. Here\nthe young Lord took his leave of me, in order to go to the court of\nVienna, not only to seek protection, but to correspond with his father's\nfriends. After we had staid four months in Hamburgh, I went from thence\noverland to the Hague, where embarking in the packet, I arrived in\nLondon the 10th of January 1705, after ten years and nine months absence\nfrom England.\n_R O B I N S O N C R U S O E'S_  VISION OF THE ANGELIC WORLD.\nCHAP. I. Of SOLITUDE.\nHowever solitude is looked upon as a restraint to the pleasure of the\nworld, in company and conversation, yet it is a happy state of exemption\nfrom a sea of trouble, an inundation of vanity and vexation, of\nconfusion and disappointment. While we enjoy ourselves, neither the joy\nnot sorrow of other men affect us: We are then at liberty with the voice\nof our soul, to speak to God. By this we shun such frequent trivial\ndiscourse, as often becomes an obstruction to virtue: and how often do\nwe find that we had reason to with we had not been in company, or said\nnothing when we were there? for either we offend God by the impiety of\nour discourse, or lay ourselves open to the violence of designing people\nby our ungarded expressions; and frequently feel the coldness and\ntreachery of pretended friends, when once involved in trouble and\naffliction: of such unfaithful intimates (I should say enemies) who\nrather by false inuendoes would accumulate miseries upon us, than\nhonestly assist us when under the hard hand of adversity. But in a state\nof solitude, when our tongues cannot be heard, except from the great\nMajesty of Heaven, how happy are we, in the blessed enjoyment of\nconversing with our Maker! It is then we make him our friend, which sets\nus above the envy and contempt of wicked men. When a man converses with\nhimself, he is sure that he does not converse with an enemy. Our retreat\nshould be to good company, and good books. I mean not by solitude, that\na man should retire into a cell, a desert, or a monastry: which would be\naltogether an useless and unprofitable restraint: for as men ate formed\nfor society, and have an absolute necessity and dependance upon one\nanother; so there is a retirement of the soul, with which it converses\nin heaven, even in the midst of men; and indeed no man is more fit to\nspeak freely, than he who can, without any violence himself, refrain his\ntongue, or keep silence altogether. As to religion, it is by this the\nfoul gets acquainted with the hidden mysteries of the holy writings;\nhere she finds those floods of tears, in which good men wash themselves\nday and night, and only makes a visit to God, and his holy angels. In\nthis conversation the truest peace and most solid joy are to be found;\nit is a continual feast of contentment on earth, and the means of\nattaining everlasting happiness in heaven.\nCHAP. II. Of HONESTY.\nHonesty is a virtue beloved by good men, and pretended to by all other\npersons. In this there are several degrees: to pay every man his own is\nthe common law of honesty: but to do good to all mankind, is the\nchancery law of honesty: and this chancery court is in every man's\nbreast, where his conscience is a Lord Chancellor. Hence it is, that a\nmiser, though he pays every body their own, cannot be an honest man,\nwhen he does not discharge the good offices that are incumbent on a\nfriendly, kind, and generous person: for, faith the prophet Isaiah,\nchap. XXXII. ver. 7, 8. _The instruments of a churl are evil: he\ndeviseth wicked devices to destroy the poor with lying words, even when\nthe needy speaketh right. But the liberal soul deviseth liberal things,\nand by liberal things shall he stand_. It is certainly honest to do\nevery thing the law requires; but should we throw every poor debtor into\nprison till he has paid the utmost farthing, hang every malefactor\nwithout mercy, exact the penalty of every bond, and the forfeiture of\nevery indenture, this would be downright cruelty, and not honesty: and\nit is contrary to that general rule, _To do to another, that which you\nwould have done unto you_. Sometimes necessity makes an honest man a\nknave: and a rich man a honest man, because he has no occasion to be a\nknave. The trial of honesty is this: Did you ever want bread, and had\nyour neighbour's loaf in keeping, and would starve rather than eat it?\nWere you ever arrested, having in your custody another man's cash, and\nwould rather go to gaol, than break it? if so, this indeed may be\nreckoned honesty. For King Solomon tells us, _That a good name is better\nthan life, and is a precious ointment, and which, when a man has once\nlost, he has nothing left worth keeping_.\nCHAP. III _Of the present state of Religion in the world_.\nI doubt, indeed, there is much more devotion than religion in the world,\nmore adoration than supplication, and more hypocrisy than sincerity; and\nit is very melancholy to consider, what numbers of people there are\nfurnished with the powers of reason and gifts of nature, and yet\nabandoned to the grossest ignorance and depravity. But it would be\nuncharitable for us to imagine (as some Papists, abounding with too much\nill nature, the only scandal to religion, do) that they will certainly\nbe in a state of damnation after this life; for how can we think it\nconsistent with the mercy and goodness of an infinite Being, to damn\nthose creatures, when he has not furnished them with the light of the\ngospel? or how can such proud, conceited and cruel bigots, prescribe\nrules to the justice and mercy of God?\nWe are told by some people, that the great image which King\nNebuchadnezzar set up to be adored by his people held the representation\nof the sun in it's right hand, as the principal object of adoration. But\nto wave this discourse of Heathens, how many self-contradicting\nprinciples are there held among Christians? and how do we doom one\nanother to the devil, while all profess to worship the same Deity, and\nto expect the same salvation.\nWhen I was at Portugal, there was held at that time the court of justice\nof the Inquisition. All the criminals were carried in procession to the\ngreat church, where eight of them were habited in gowns and caps of\ncanvass, whereon the torments of hell were displayed, and they were\ncondemned and burnt for crimes against the Catholic faith and\nblessed Virgin.\nI am sorry to make any reflection upon Christians; but indeed, in Italy\nthe Roman religion seems the most cruel and mercenary upon earth; and a\nvery judicious person, who travelled through Italy from Turkey, tells,\n_That there is only the face and outward pomp of religion there; that\nthe church protects murderers and assassins; and then delivers the civil\nmagistrate over to Satan for doing justice; interdicts whole kingdoms,\nand shuts up the churches for want of paying a few ecclesiastical dues,\nand so puts a stop to religion for want of their money; that the court\nof Inquisition burnt two men for speaking dishonourably of the Blessed\nVirgin; and the missionaries of China tolerated the worshipping the\ndevil by their new converts: that Italy was the theatre, where religion\nwas the grand opera: and that the Popish clergy were no other than\nstage players_.\nAs to religion in Poland, they deny Christ to be the Messiah, or that\nthe Messiah has come in the flesh. And as to their Protestants, they are\nthe followers of Laelius Socinus, who denied our Saviour's divinity; and\nhave no concern about the divine inspiration of the Holy Ghost.\nIn Muscovy their churches are built of wood, and, indeed, they have but\nwooden priests, though of the Greek church; they pray as much to St.\nNicholas, as the Papists do to the Virgin Mary, for protection in all\ntheir difficulties or afflictions.\nAs to Lutherans, they only differ from the Romans in believing\nconsubstantiation, instead of transubstantiation; but like them, they\nare much pleased with the external gallantry and pomp, more than the\ntrue and real practice of it.\nIn France I found a world of priests, the streets every where crowded\nwith them, and the churches full of women: but surely never was a nation\nso full of blind guides, so ignorant of religion, and even as void of\nmorals, as those people who confess their sins to them.\nDoes it not seem strange, that, while all men own the Divine Being,\nthere should be so many different opinions as to the manner of paying\nhim obedience in the Christian church? I know not what reason to assign\nfor this, except it be their different capacities and faculties.\nAnd, indeed, upon this account, we have perceived, in all Christian\ncountries, what mortal feuds have been about religion; what wars and\nbloodshed have molested Europe, till the general pacification of the\nGerman troubles at the treaty of Westphalia: and since those times, what\npersecution in the same country among the churches of the Lutherans; and\nshould I take a prospect at home, what unhappy divisions are between\nChristians in this kingdom, about Episcopacy and Presbytery; the church\nof England and the Dissenters opposing one another like St. Paul and St.\nPeter, even to the face; that is, they carry on the dispute to the\nutmost extremity.\nIt might be a question, why there are such differences in religious\npoints, and why these breaches should be more hot and irreconcileable?\nAll the answer I can give to this, is, that we inquire more concerning\nthe truth of religion, than any other nation in the world; and the\nanxious concern we have about it, makes us jealous of every opinion, and\ntenacious of our own; and this is not because we are more furious and\nrash than other people; but the truth is, we are more concerned about\nthem, and being sensible that the scripture is the great rule of faith,\nthe standard for life and doctrine, we have recourse to it ourselves,\nwithout submitting to any pretended infallible judge upon earth.\nThere is another question, pertinent to the former, and that is, _What\nremedy can we apply to this malady_? And to this I must negatively\nanswer, _Not to be less religious, that we may differ the less_. This is\nstriking at the very root of all religious differences; for, certainly,\nwere they to be carried on with a peaceable spirit, willing to be\ninformed, our variety of opinions would not have the name of\ndifferences; nor should we separate in communion of charity though we\ndid not agree in several articles of religion.\nNor is there a less useful question to start, namely, _Where will our\nunhappy religious differences end?_ To which, I hope, I may answer, _In\nHeaven_; there we shall unchristian and unbrotherly differences will\nfind a period; there we shall embrace many a sinner, that here we think\nit a dishonour to converse with; & perceive many a heart we have broken\nhere with censures, reproachings, & revilings, made whole again by the\nbalm of the same Redeemer's blood. Here we shall perceive there have\nbeen other flocks than those of our fold; that those we have\nexcommunicated have been taken into that superior communion; and, in a\nword, that those contradicting notions and principles which we thought\ninconsistent with true religion, we shall then find reconcileable to\nthemselves, to one another, and to the fountain of truth. If any man ask\nme, Why our differences cannot be ended on earth? I answer, _Were we all\nthoroughly convinced, that then they would be reconciled, we would put\nan end to them before; but this is impossible to be done: for as men's\ncertain convictions of truth are not equal to one another, or the weight\nor significancy of such veracity: so neither can a general effect of\nthis affair be expected on this side of time_.\nBefore I conclude this chapter, I shall beg leave to discourse a little\nof the wonderful excellency of negative religion and negative virtue.\nThe latter sets out, like the Pharisee, with, _God, I thank thee;_ it is\na piece of religious pageantry, the hypocrite's hope: and, in a word, it\nis positive vice: for it is either a mask to deceive others, or a mist\nto deceive ourselves. A man that is clothed with negatives, thus argues:\n_ I am not such a drunkard as my landlord, such a thief as my tenant,\nsuch a rakish fellow, or a highwayman; No! I live a sober, regular,\nretired life: I am a good man, I go to church; God, I thank thee._ Now,\nthrough a mans boasts of his virtue in contradiction to the vices\nmentioned, yet a person had better have them altogether than the man\nhimself; or he is so full of himself, so persuaded that he is good and\nreligious enough already, that he has no thoughts of any thing, except\nit be to pull of his hat to God Almighty now and then, and thank him\nthat he has no occasion for him; and has the vanity to think that his\nneighbours must imagine well of him too.\nThe negative man, though he is no drunkard is yet intoxicated with the\npride of his own worth; a good neighbour and peace-maker in other\nfamilies, but a tyrant in his own; appears in church for a show, but\nnever falls upon his knees in his closet; does all his alms before men,\nto be seen of them; eager in the duties of the second table, but\nregardless of the first; appears religious, to be taken notice of by\nmen, but without intercourse or communication between God and his own\nsoul: Pray, what is this man? or what comfort is there of the life he\nlives? he is insensible of faith, repentance, and a Christian mortified\nlife: in a word, he is a perfectly a stranger to the essential part\nof religion.\nLet us for a while enter into the private and retired part of his\nconversation: What notions has he of his mispent hours, and of the\nprogress of time to the great centre and gulph of life, eternity? Does\nhe know how to put a right value on time, or esteem the life-blood of\nhis soul, as it really is, and act in all the moments of it, as one that\nmust account for them? if then you can form an equality between what he\ncan do and what he shall receive; less can be founded upon his negative\nvirtue, or what he has forborne to do: And if neither his negative nor\npositive piety can be equal to the reward, and to the eternity that\nreward is to last for, what then is to become of the Pharisee, when he\nis to be judged by the sincerity of his repentance, and rewarded,\naccording to the infinite grace of God, with a state of blessedness to\nan endless eternity?\nWhen the negative man converses with the invisible world, he is filled\nwith as much horror and dread as Felix, when St Paul reasoned to him of\ntemperance, righteousness, and of judgment to come; for Felix, though a\ngreat philosopher, of great power and reverence, was a negative man, and\nhe was made sensible by the Apostle, that, as a life of virtue and\ntemperance was its own reward, by giving a healthy body, a clear head,\nand a composed life, so eternal happiness must proceed from another\nspring; namely, the infinite unbounded grace of a provoked God, who\nhaving erected a righteous tribunal, Jesus Christ would separate such as\nby faith and repentance he had brought home and united to himself by the\ngrace of adoption, and on the foot of his having laid down his life as a\nransom for them, had appointed them to salvation, when all the\nphilosophy, temperance, and righteousness in the world besides had been\nineffectual. And this, I say, it was, that made Felix, this negative\nman tremble.\nCHAP. IV. _Of listening to the voice of Providence_.\nThe magnificent and wise King Solomon bids us cry after knowledge, and\nlift up our voice for understanding; by which is meant, religious\nknowledge, for it follows: _Then shalt thou understand the fear of the\nLord, and find the knowledge of God_. By which undoubtedly he meant, to\nenquire after every thing he has permitted us to know, and not to search\ninto those ways that are unsearchable, and are effectually locked up\nfrom our knowledge.--Now, _as listening to the voice of Providence_ is\nmy present subject, I intend, in the first place, to write to those who\nown, 1. That there is a God, a first great moving cause of all things,\nand eternal power, prior, and consequently superior to all created power\nor being.--2. That this eternal power, which is God, is the sovereign\ncreator and governor of heaven and earth.\nTo avoid all needless distinctions, what persons in the God-head\nexercise the creating, and what the governing power, I offer that\nglorious text, Psal. xxiii. 6. where the whole Trinity is entitled to\nthe whole creating work: and, therefore, in the next place, I shall lay\ndown these two propositions.\nI. _That the eternal God guides, by his providence, the whole\n   universe, which was created by his power._\nII. _That this providence manifests a particular care over, and\n    concern in, the governing and directing man, the most noble\n    creature upon earth_.\nIt is plain, that natural religion proves the first, by intimating the\nnecessity of a providence guiding and governing the world, from the\nconsequence of the wisdom, justice, prescience, and goodness of the\nAlmighty Creator: for otherwise it would be absurd to think, that God\nshould create a world, without any care or providence over it, in\nguiding the operations of nature, so as to preserve the order of\nhis creation.\nRevealed religion gives us a light into the care and concern of his\nprovidence, by the climate's being made habitable, the creatures\nsubjected and made nourishing, and all vegetative life made medicinal;\nand all this for the sake of man, who is made viceroy to the King of the\nearth. The short description I shall give of providence is this: _That\nit is that operation of the power, of the wisdom, and goodness of God,\nby which be influences, governs, and directs, not only the means, but\nthe events of all things, which concern us in this sublunary world; the\nsovereignty of which we ought always to reverence, obey its motions,\nobserve its dictates, and listen to its voice. The prudent man forseeth\nthe evil, and hideth himself; that is, as I take it, there is a secret\nprovidence intimates to us, that some danger threatens, if we strive not\nto shun it_.\nThe same day that Sir John Hotham kept out Hull against the royal martyr\nKing Charles I. the same day Sir John Hotham was put to death by the\nparliament for that very action: The same day that the King himself\nsigned the warrant for the execution of the Earl of Stafford, the same\nday of the month was he barbarously murdered by the blood-thirsty\nOliverian crew: and the same day that King James II. came to the crown\nagainst the bill of exclusion, the same day he was voted abdicated by\nthe parliament, and the throne filled with King William and Queen Mary.\nThe voice of signal deliverances from sudden dangers, is not only a just\ncall to repentance, but a caution against falling into the like danger;\nbut such who are utterly careless of themselves after, show a lethargy\nof the worst nature, which seems to me to be a kind of practical atheism\nor at least, a living in a contempt of Heaven, when he receives good at\nthe hand of his Maker, but is unconcerned from whence it comes, or to\nthank the bountiful hand that gave it; neither, when he receives evil,\ndoes it alter his manner of life, or bring him to any state of\nhumiliation.\nWe have a remarkable story of two soldiers being condemned to death in\nFlanders. The general being prevailed upon to spare one of them, ordered\nthem to cast dice upon the drumhead for their lives; the first having\nthrown two sixes, the second fell a wringing his hands, having so poor a\nchance to escape; however, having thrown, he was surprised when he also\nthrew other two sixes. The officer appointed to see the execution,\nordered them to throw again; they did so, and each of them threw fives;\nat which the soldiers that stood round, shouted, and said, neither of\nthem was to die. Upon this, the officer acquainted the council of war,\nwho ordered them to throw a third time, when they threw two fours: the\ngeneral being acquainted with it, sent for the men, and pardoned them.\n_I love,_ said he, _in such extraordinary cases, to listen to the voice\nof Providence._\nWe read in the holy writings, how God speaks to men by appearance of\nangels, or by dreams and visions of the night. As God appeared to\nAbraham, Lot, and Jacob: so angels have appeared to many in other cases,\nas to Manoah and his wife, Zechariah, the Virgin Mary, and to the\napostles; other have been warned in a dream as king Abimelech, the false\nprophet Balaam, and many others.\nIt is certainly a very great and noble inquiry, _What we shall be after\nthis life?_ for there is scarce a doubt, that there is a place reserved\nfor the reception of our souls after death: for if we are to be, we must\nhave a where, which the scriptures assert by the examples of Dives and\nLazarus. The doctrine of spirits was long believed before our Saviour's\ntime; for when the disciples of the blessed Jesus perceived our Saviour\nwalking on the sea, they were as much surprised as though they had seen\na spirit. Nay, in those ages of the world, it was believed that spirits\nintermeddled in the affairs of mankind; and, throughout the Old\nTestament, I do not find any thing that in the least contradicts is. All\nthe pains and labour that some learned men have taken, to confute the\nstory of the witch of Endor, and the appearance of an old man\npersonating Samuel, cannot make such apparitions inconsistent with\nnature or religion; and it is plain, that it was either a good or bad\nspirit, that prophetically told the unfortunate king what should happen\nthe next day; for, said the spirit, _The Lord will deliver thee into the\nhands of the Philistines; and to-morrow shalt thou and thy sons be\nwith me._\nAbundance of strange notions possessed me, when I was in the desolate\nisland; especially on a moonshine night, when every bush seemed a man,\nand every tree a man on horseback. When I crept into the dismal cave\nwhere the old goat lay expiring, whole articulate groans even resembled\nthose of a man, how was I surprised! my blood chilled in my veins,\na cold sweaty dew sat on my forehead, my hair stood upright, and my\njoints, like Belshazzar's knees, struck against one another. And, indeed,\nthough I afterwards found what it was, the remains of this surprise did\nnot wear off for a great while; and I had frequently returns of those\nvapours on different occasions, and sometimes without any occasion at all.\nOne night, after having seen some appearance in the air, as I had just\nlain down in my bed, one of my feet pained me; after that came a\nnumbness, succeeded with a tingling in my blood; when on a sudden I\nthought something alive lay upon me, from my knee to above half my leg.\nUpon this I flung myself out of bed where I thought the creature lay;\nbut finding nothing, _Lord deliver me from evil spirits_, said I, _what\ncan this be?_ When I lighted a candle, I could perceive no living\ncreature in the place with me, but the poor parrot, who, being frighted,\ncried out, _Hold your tongue_, and _What's the matter with you_, which\nwords I had taught him, by saying so to him, when he made such screaming\nnoises as I did not like. _Lord_, said I aloud, _surely the devil has\nbeen here._ _Hold your tongue_, says Poll. I was then mad at the bird,\nand putting on my clothes, cried, _I am terribly frighted._ _What's the\nmatter with you_? says Poll. _You toad_, said I, _I'll knock your brains\nout._ _Hold you tongue_, cried he again, and so fell a chattering, and\ncalling Robinson Crusoe, as he did before. But after I had composed\nmyself, and went to bed again, I began plainly to see it was a distemper\nthat affected my nerves, and so my terrors vanished at once.\nHow intelligences are given or received, we do not know; nor are we\nsensible how they are conveyed from spirits embodied to ours that are\nin life; or, on the contrary, from us to them; the latter is certainly\ndone without help of the organs, and the former is conveyed by the\nunderstanding, and the retired faculties of the soul.\nThe spirits, without the help of voices, converse, and the more\nparticular discoveries of converse of the spirits, seem to me as\nfollow: to wit, dreams, voices, noises, impulses, hints, apprehensions,\ninvoluntary sadness, &c.\nDreams of old were the ways by which God himself was pleased to warn\nmen what services to perform, and what to shun. Joseph was directed of\nGod in a dream to go to Egypt; and so were the wise men warned in a\ndream to depart into their own country another way, to avoid the fury\nof Herod. I am not like those who think dreams are the mere designs of\na delirious head, or the relics of a day's perplexities or pleasures;\nbut, on the contrary, I must beg leave to say, I never met with any\ncapital mischief in my life, but I had some notice of it by a dream;\nand had I not been a thoughtless unbelieving creature, I might have\ntaken many a warning, and avoided many of the evils I afterwards fell\ninto, merely by total neglect of those dreams.\nI was once present at a dispute between a layman and a clergyman, upon\nthe subject of dreams. The first thought no regard should be given unto\nthem; that their communication from the invisible to the visible world\nwas a mere chimera, without any solid foundation. For, first, said he,\nif dreams were from the agency of any prescient being, the motives would\nbe more direct, and the discoveries more plain, and not by allegories\nand emblematic fancies, expressing things imperfect and obscure. 2.\nSince, with the notice of evil, there was not a power given to avoid it,\nit is not likely to proceed from a spirit, but merely fortuitious. 3.\nThat the inconstancy of such notices, in cases equally important, proves\nthey did not proceed from any such agent. 4. That as our most distinct\ndreams had nothing in them of any significancy, it would be irrational\nand vain to think that they came from heaven. And, 5. That as men were\nnot always thus warned or supplied with notice of good or evil, so all\nmen are not alike supplied with them; and what reason could we give,\nwhy one man or one woman should not have the same hints as another.\nTo all this the clergyman gave answer: 1. That as to the signification of\ndreams, & the objections against them, as being dark and doubtful, they are\nexpressed generally by hierogliphical representations, similies, allusions,\nand figurative emblematic ways, by which means, for want of interpretation,\nthe thing was not understood, and, consequently, the evil not shunned. 2.\nThat we charge God foolishly, to say, that he has given the notice of evil,\nwithout the power to avoid it; for, if any one had not power to avoid the\nevil, it was no notice to him; and it was want of giving due head to that\nnotice, that men first neglected themselves, and then charged the Judge of\nall the earth with injustice. 3. That we ought not to find fault with the\ninconstancy of these notices; but rather with our weak understandings, by\npretending dreams were not to be regarded, and negligent when the voice\nreally spoke to us for our good. It is a mistake to say, dreams have no\nimport at all: we might, with more reason, have said, none that we could\nperceive the reason of, owing to our blindness and supine negligence, too\nsecure at one time, and too much alarmed at another; so that the spirit,\nwhich we might be said to be conversing with in a dream, was constantly\nand equally kind and careful; but our powers are not always in the same\nstate of action, not equally attentive too, or retentive of the hints\nthat were given. And, 5. To answer the last question, Why people are not\nequally supplied? This seemed to be no question; for Providence itself\nmight have some share in the direction of it, and then that Providence\nmight be limited by a superior direction; that as to the converse of\nspirits, he could not call it a stated converse: such a thing there was,\nbut why there was so much of it, and no more, was none of his business,\nand that no such discovery had ever yet been made to mankind. Nor were\nwe to imagine less of waking dreams, trances, visions, noises, hints,\nimpulses, and all the waking testimonies of an invisible world, and of\nthe communication that there is between us and them, which commonly\nentertain us with our open eyes.\nOne time my fancy soared on high, to see what discoveries I could make\nin those clearer regions. I found that such immense bodies as the sun,\nstars, planets, and moon, in the great circle of the lower heaven, are\nfar from being found in the study of nature on the surface of the earth.\nHere I saw many things that we can entertain little or no notion of, in\na state of common life, and the emptiness of our notion, that the\nplanets are habitable worlds; that is, created like ours, for the\nsubsistence and existence of man and beast, and the preservation of the\nvegitative and sensitive life: No, no, this is, I assure you, a world of\nspirits; for here I saw a clear demonstration of Satan being the _prince\nof the power of the air_, keeping his court or camp, with innumerable\nangels to attend him; but his power is not so great as we imagine, he\ncan tempt us to the crime, but cannot force us to commit: _Humanium est\npeccare_. Neither has the devil power to force the world into a\nrebellion against heaven, though his legions are employed among savage\nnations, to set up their master for a god, who make the heathens either\nworship him in person, or by his representatives, idols and monsters,\nwith the cruel sacrifices of human blood. Now, as to the limitations of\nthe devil's power, you must understand, that as there are numbers of\nevil spirits employed in mischief, so there are numbers of good angels\nsent from the higher and blessed abodes to disconcert and oppose their\nmeasures; and this every Christian, I hope, believes, when he prays to\nGod, the father of spirits, to give his angels charge over him while he\nslumbereth and sleepeth. For if by these preventing powers the devil was\nnot restrained, the earth would be subjected to dearth, droughts, and\nfamine; the air infected with noxious fumes; and, in a word, mankind\nwould be utterly destroyed, which might oblige our Maker (if I may be\nallowed the expression) to the necessity of a new _fiat_, or else have\nno more creatures to honour and worship him.\nAs the devil never wanted insinuators, I shall observe, that I learned a\nway how to make a man dream of what I pleased. For instance, let us suppose\none to be found asleep; let another lay his mouth close to his ear, and\nwhisper any thing so softly as not to awake him, the sleeping man shall\ndream of what has been so whispered in his ear; nay, I can assure you,\nthose insinuating devils can do this even when we are awake, which I call\nimpulses of the mind: for from whence, but from these insinuators, come\nour causeless passions, involuntary wickedness, or sinful desires? Who\nelse form ideas in the mind of man when he is asleep, or present terrible\nor, beautiful figures to his fancy: Mr. Milton represents the devil\ntempting Eve in the shape of a toad, lying just at her ear, when in her\nbower she lay fast asleep; and brings in Eve telling Adam what an uneasy\nnight's rest she had, and relating her dream to him. And likewise I\nbelieve that good spirits have the same intercourse with us, in warning\nus against those things that are evil, and prompting us to that which is\ngood.\nWere we to have the eyes of our souls opened, through the eyes of our\nbodies, we should see this very immediate region or air which we breath\nin, thronged with spirits now invisible, and which otherwise would be\nthe most terrible; we should view the secret transactions of those\nmessengers who are employed when the parting soul takes it's leave of\nthe reluctant body, and perhaps see things nature would shrink back from\nwith the utmost terror and amazement. In a word, the curtain of\nProvidence for the disposition of things here, and the curtain of\njudgment for the determination of the state of souls hereafter, would be\nalike drawn back; and what heart could support here its future state in\nlife; much less that, of its future state after life, even good or bad.\nA gentleman of my acquaintance, being about seven miles distant from\nLondon, a friend that came to dine with him, solicited him to go to the\ncity. _What_, said the gentleman, _is there any occasion for me? No,\nSir_, said the other, _nothing at all except the enjoyment of your good\ncompany_: and so gave over importuning him. Just then a strong impulse\nof mind urged the gentleman and pursued him like a voice, with, _Go to\nLondon, Go to London. Hark ye_, says he to his friend, _is all well at\nLondon? Am I wanted there? Or did you ask me to go with you on any\nparticular account? Are all my family well? Yes, indeed, Sir_, said he,\n_I perceived them all very hearty; and I did not ask you to go to London\nupon any particular account whatsoever, except it was for the sake of\nyour good company_. Again, he put off his resolution: but still the\nimpulse suggested to him, _Go to London_; and at length he did so. When\nhe came there, he found a letter and a messenger had been there to seek\nhim, and to tell him of a particular business, which was at first and\nlast above a thousand pounds to him, and which might inevitably have\nbeen lost, had he hot gone to London that night.\nThe obeying of several hints, of secret impulses, argues great wisdom.\nI knew a man that was under misfortunes, being guilty of misdemeanors\nagainst the goverment; when, absconding for fear of his ruin, all his\nfriends advising him not to put himself in the hands of the law, one\nmorning as he awaked, he felt a strong impulse darting into his mind\nthus, _Write a letter to them;_ and this was repeated several times to\nhis mind, and at last he answered to it, as if it had been a voice,\n_Whom shall I write to?_ Immediately it replied, _Write to the judge:_\nand this impulse pursued him for several days, till at length he took\npen, ink, and paper, and sat down to write to him: when immediately\nwords flowed from his pen, like streams from a fair fountain, that\ncharmed even himself with hopes of success. In short, the letter was so\nstrenuous in argument, so pathetic in its eloquence, and so persuasively\nmoving, that when the judge had read it, he sent him an answer he might\nbe easy, he would endeavour to make that matter light to him; and,\nindeed, never left exerting himself, till he had stopt the prosecution,\nand restored him to his liberty and family.\nI know a person who had so strong an impression upon her mind, that the\nhouse she was in would be burnt that very night, that she could not\nsleep; the impulse she had upon her mind pressed her not to go to bed,\nwhich, however, she got over, and went to bed; but was so terrified with\nthe thought, which run in her mind, that the house would be burnt, that\nshe could not go to sleep; but communicating her apprehensions to\nanother in the family, they were both in such a fright, that they\napplied themselves to search from the top of the house to the bottom, &\nto see every fire and candle safe out, so that, as they all said, it was\nimpossible that any thing could happen then, and they sent to the\nneighbours on both sides to do the like. Thus far they did well: But had\nshe obeyed the hint which pressed upon her strangely, not to go to bed,\nshe had done much better; for the fire was actually kindled at that very\ntime, though not broken out. About an hour after the whole family was in\nbed, the house just over the way, directly opposite, was all in flames,\nand the wind, which was very high, blowing the flame upon the house this\ngentlewoman lived in, so filled it with smoke and fire, in a few\nminutes, the street being narrow, that they had not air to breathe, or\ntime to do any thing, but jump out of their beds, and save their lives.\nHad she obeyed the hint given, and not gone to bed, she might have saved\nseveral things; but the few moments she had spared to her, were but just\nsufficient to leap out of bed, put some cloathes on, and get down\nstairs, for the house was on fire in half a quarter of an hour.\nWhile I am mentioning these things, methinks it is very hard that we\nshould obey the whispers of evil spirits, and not much rather receive\nthe notices which good ones are pleased to give. We never perceive the\nmisfortune of this, but when in real danger; and then we cry, _My mind\nmisgave me when I was going about it_; but if so, why do you fight the\ncaution? Why not listen to it as to a voice? and then there had been no\nreason to make this complaint.\nI remember about fourteen or fifteen years ago (as to time I cannot be\nvery positive) there was a young clergyman in the city of Dublin, in\nIreland, who dreamed a very uncommon dream, that a gentleman had killed\nhis wife, a relation of his, by stabbing her in several places; the\nfright of this awaked him, but finding it a dream, he composed himself\nagain to sleep, when he dreamed a second time the same dream. This made\nhim a little uneasy; but thinking it proceeded from the impression made\non his mind by the former, he went to sleep again, and dreamed the same\ndream a third time also. So troubled was he at this, that he arose, and\nknocked at his mother's chamber, told his concern, and his apprehensions\nthat all was not right at his relation's house. _Dear son_, says the\ngood old gentlewoman, _do not mind these foolish dreams; and I very much\nwonder, that you, being a person in holy orders, should have regard to\nsuch illusions_. Upon this he went to bed again, fell asleep, and\ndreamed a fourth time as before. And then indeed he put on his\nnight-gown, and went to Smithfield, the place where his relation dwelt.\nHere it was, alas! he perceived his dream too sadly fulfilled, by seeing\nhis relation the young lady, big with child, who was a Protestant,\nstabbed in several places by her barbarous husband, Mr. Eustace, a\nviolent Papist, only for some discourses of religion that happened the\nday before. After the wretch had stabbed her in three places, he went to\nmake his escape out at a window; but she cried out, _My dear! don't\nleave me, come back, and I shall be well again_. At which he returned in\na hellish rage, and gave her four wounds more; when, even in this\ncondition, rising from her bed, she wrapped herself in her night-gown,\nand went to the Lord Bishop of Rapho's chamber door (the Bishop lodging\nat that time in the house). _My Lord_, said she, _O my Lord, make haste\nunto me_; but as soon as his Lordship came, she expired in his arms,\nresigning her precious soul into the hands of Almighty God. The cruel\nwretch her husband was shot by the pursuers; too good a death for one\nwho deserved the gibbet; and the lady was universally lamented by all\ntender and religious people. And this tragical relation I have\nmentioned, upon the account of that impulse, or dream, that the\nclergyman had at the fatal time of the bloody action.\nIt might be expected I should enter upon the subject of apparitions,\nand discourse concerning the reality of them; and whether they can\nrevisit the place of their former existence, and resume those faculties\nof speech and shape as they had when living; but, as these are very\ndoubtful matters, I shall only make a few observations upon them.\nI once heard of a man that would allow the reality of apparitions, but\nlaid it all upon the devil, thinking that the souls of men departed, or\ngood men, did never appear. To this very man something did appear: He\nsaid, he saw the shape of an ancient man pass by him in the dusk, who,\nholding up his hand in a threatening posture, cried out, _O wicked man,\nrepent, repent_. Terrified with this apparition, he consulted several\nfriends, who advised him to take the advice. But after all, it was not\nan apparition, but a grave and pious gentleman, who met him by mere\naccident, and had been sensible of his wickedness; and who never\nundeceived him, lest it should hinder his reformation.\nSome people make a very ill use of the general notion, that there are no\napparitions nor spirits at all: which is worse than those who fancy they\nsee them upon every occasion; for those carry their notions farther,\neven to annihilate the devil, and believe nothing about him, neither of\none kind or other: the next step they come to, is to conclude, _There is\nno God_, and so atheism takes its rise in the same sink, with a\ncarelessness about futurity. But there is no occasion to enter upon an\nargument to prove the being of the Almighty, or to illustrate his power\nby words, who has so many undeniable testimonies in the breasts of every\nrational being to prove his existence: and we have sufficient proofs\nenough to convince us of the great superintendency of Divine Providence\nin the minutest affairs of this world; the manifest existence of the\ninvisible world; the reality of spirits, and intelligence between us and\nthem. What I have said, I hope, will not mislead any person, or be a\nmeans whereby they may delude themselves; for I have spoken of these\nthings with the utmost seriousness of mind, and with a sincere and\nardent desire for the general good and benefit of the world.\nCHAP. V. _Of suffering Afflictions._\nAfflictions are common to all mankind; and whether they proceed from\nlosses, disappointments, or the malice of men, they often bring their\nadvantages along with them: For this shews man the vanity and\ndeceitfulness of this life, and is an occasion of rectifying our\nmeasures, and bringing us to a more modest opinion of ourselves: It\ntells us, how necessary the assistance of divine grace is unto us, when\nlife itself becomes a burden, and death even desirable: But when the\ngreatest oppression comes upon us, we must have recourse to patience,\nbegging of God to give us that virtue; and the more composed, we are\nunder any trouble, the more commendable is our wisdom, and the larger\nwill be our recompense. Let the provocation be what it will, whether\nfrom a good-natured and conscientious, or a wicked, perverse, and\nvexatious man; all this we should take as from the over-ruling hand of\nGod, as a punishment for our sins. Many times injured innocence may be\nabused by false oaths, or the power of wicked, jealous, or malicious\nmen; but we often find it, like the palm, rise the higher the more it is\ndepressed; while the justice of God is eminently remarkable in punishing\nthose, one way or other, who desire to endeavour to procure the downfal\nof an innocent man: Nor does God fail comforting an afflicted person,\nwho with tears and prayers solicits the throne of Heaven for deliverance\nand protection. David says, _that his soul was full of trouble, and his\nlife drew near unto the grave_. But certainly David's afflictions made\nhim eminently remarkable, as particularly when pursued by King Saul, and\nhunted as a partridge over the mountains. But one thing which stands by\ninnocence, is the love of God; for were we to suffer disgrace, nay, an\nignominious death itself, what consolation does our innocence procure at\nour latest conflict, our last moments!\nCHAP. VI. _Of the immorality of conversation, and the vulgar errors of\nbehaviour_.\nAs conversation is a great part of human happiness, so it is a pleasant\nsight to behold a sweet tempered man, who is always fit for it; to see\nan air of humour and pleasantness sit ever upon his brow, and even\nsomething angelic in his very countenance: Whereas, if we observe a\ndesigning man, we shall find a mark of involuntary sadness break in upon\nhis joy, and a certain insurrection in the soul, the natural concomitant\nof profligate principles.\nThey err very much, who think religion, or a strict morality discomposes\nthe mind, and renders it unfit for conversation; for it rather inspires\nus to innocent mirth, without such a counterfeit joy as vitious men\nappear with; and indeed wit is as consistent with religion, as religion\nis with good manners; nor is there any thing in the limitation of virtue\nand religion that should abate the pleasures of this world, but on the\ncontrary rather serves to increase them.\nOn the other hand, many men, by their own vice and intemperance,\ndisqualify themselves for conversation. Conversation is immoral, where\nthe discourse is undecent, immodest, scandalous, slanderous, and\nabusive. How great is their folly, and how much do they expose\nthemselves when they affront their best friend, even God himself, who\nlaughs at the fool _when his fear cometh?_\nThe great scandal atheistical and immoral discourse gives to virtue,\nought, methinks, to be punished by all good magistrates: Make a man once\ncease to believe a God, and he has nothing left to limit his soul. How\nincongruous is it to government, that a man shall be punished for\ndrunkenness, and yet have liberty to affront, and even deny the Majesty\nof heaven? When if, even among men, one gives the lie to a gentleman in\ncompany, or perhaps speaks an affronting word, a quarrel will ensue, and\na combat, and perhaps murder be the consequence: At the least, he, will\nprosecute him at law with the utmost virulence and oppression.\nThe next thing to be refrained, is obscene discourse, which is the\nlanguage only of proficients in debauchery, who never repent, but in a\ngaol or hospital; and whose carcases relish no better than their\ndiscourse, till the body becomes too nasty for the soul to stay any\nlonger in it.\nNor is false talking to be less avoided; for lying is the sheep's\nclothing hung upon the wolf's back: It is the Pharisee's prayer, the\nwhore's buss, the hypocrite's paint, the murderer's smile, the thief's\ncloak; it is Joab's embrace, and Judah's kiss; in a word, it is\nmankind's darling sin, and the devil's distinguishing character. Some\nadd lies to lies, till it not only comes to be improbable, but even\nimpossible too: Others lie for gain to deceive, delude, and betray: And\na third lies for sport, or for fun. There are other liars, who are\npersonal and malicious; who foment differences, and carry tales from one\nhouse to another, in order to gratify their own envious tempers, without\nany regard to reverence or truth.\nTHE\nREMARKABLE HISTORY\nOF\nALEXANDER SELKIRK\n_From the voyage of Captain Woodes Rogers to the South Seas and round\nthe World._\nOn February 1st, 1709, we came before that island,[1] having had a good\nobservation the day before, and found our latitude to be 34 degrees 10\nminutes south. In the afternoon, we hoisted out our pinnace; and Captain\nDover, with the boat's crew, went in her to go ashore, though we could\nnot be less that four leagues off. As soon as the pinnace was gone, I\nwent on board the Duchess, who admired our boat attempting going ashore\nat that distance from land. It was against my inclination: but, to\noblige Captain Dover, I let her go: As soon as it was dark, we saw a\nlight ashore. Our boat was then about a league off the island, and bore\naway for the ship as soon as she saw the lights: We put our lights\naboard for the boat, though some were of opinion, the lights we saw were\nour boat's lights: But, as night came on, it appeared too large for\nthat: We fired our quarter-deck gun, and several muskets, showing lights\nin our mizen and fore-shrouds, that our boat might find us whilst we\nwere in the lee of the island: About two in the morning our boat came on\nboard, having been two hours on board the Duchess, that took them up\nastern of us; we were glad they got well off, because it began to blow.\nWe were all convinces the light was on the shore, and designed to make\nour ships ready to engage, believing them to be French ships at anchor,\nand we must either fight them, or want water. All this stir and\napprehension arose, as we afterwards found, from one poor naked man, who\npassed in our imagination, at present, for a Spanish garrison, a body of\nFrenchmen, or a crew of pirates. While we were under these\napprehensions, we stood on the backside of the island, in order to fall\nin with the southerly wind, till we were past the island; and then we\ncame back to it again, and ran close aboard the land that begins to make\nthe north-east side.\n[Footnote 1: _Juan Fernandez._]\nWe still continued to reason upon this matter; and it is in a manner\nincredible, what strange notions many of our people entertained from the\nsight of the fire upon the island. It served, however, to show people's\ntempers and spirits; and we were able to give a tolerable guess how our\nmen would behave, in case there really were any enemies upon the island.\nThe flaws came heavy off the shore, and we were forced to reef our\ntopsails when we opened the middle bay, where we expected to have found\nour enemy; but saw all clear, & no ships, nor in the other bay next the\nnorth-east end. These two bays are all that ships ride in, which recruit\non this island; but the middle bay is by much the best. We guessed there\nhad been ships there, but that they were gone on sight of us. We sent\nour yawl ashore about noon, with Captain Dover, Mr. Fry, and six men,\nall armed: Mean while we and the Duchess kept turning to get in, and\nsuch heavy flaws came off the land, that we were forced to let go our\ntop sail sheet, keeping all hands to stand by our sails, for fear of the\nwinds carrying them away: But when the flaws were gone, we had little or\nno wind. These flaws proceeded from the land; which is very high in the\nmiddle of the island. Our boat did not return; we sent our pinnace with\nthe men armed, to see what was the occasion of the yawl's stay; for we\nwere afraid, that the Spaniards had a garrison there, and might have\nseized them. We put out a signal for our boat, and the Duchess showed a\nFrench ensign. Immediately our pinnace returned from the shore, and\nbrought abundance of cry-fish, with a man clothed in goats skins, who\nlooked wilder than the first owners of them. He had been on the island\nfour years and four months, being left there by Captain Stradling in the\nCinque-ports, his name was Alexander Selkirk, a Scotchman, who had been\nmaster of the Cinque-ports, a ship that came here last with Captain\nDampier, who told me, that this was the best man in her. I immediately\nagreed with him to be a mate on board our ship: It was he that made the\nfire last night when he saw our ships, which he judged to be English.\nDuring his stay here he saw several ships pass by, but only two came in\nto anchors: As he went to view them; he found them to be Spaniards, and\nretired from them, upon which they shot at him: Had they been French, he\nwould have submitted; but choose to risque his dying alone on the\nisland, rather than fall into the hands of Spaniards in these parts;\nbecause he apprehended they would murder him, or make a slave of him in\nthe mines; for he feared they would spare no stranger that might be\ncapable of discovering the South Seas.\nThe Spaniards had landed, before he knew what they were; and they came\nso near him, that he had much ado to escape; for they not only shot at\nhim, but pursued him to the woods, where he climbed to the top of a\ntree, at the foot of which they made water, and killed several goats\njust by, but went off again without discovering him. He told us that he\nwas born at Largo, in the county of Fife, in Scotland, and was bred a\nsailor from his youth. The reason of his being left here was difference\nbetween him and his captain; which together with the ship's being leaky,\nmade him willing rather to stay here, than go along with him at first;\nbut when he was at last willing to go, the captain would not receive\nhim. He had been at the island before, to wood and water, when two of\nthe ship's company were left upon it for six mouths, till the Ship\nreturned, being chased thence by two French South-sea ships. He had with\nhim his cloaths and bedding, with a firelock, some powder, bullets and\ntobacco, a hatchet, a knife, a kettle, a bible, some practical pieces,\nand his mathematical instruments and books. He diverted and provided for\nhimself as well as he could; but for the first eight months, had much\nado to bear up against melancholy, and the terror of being left alone in\nsuch a desolate place. He built two huts with pimento trees, covered\nthem with long grass, & lined them with the skins of goats, which be\nkilled with his gun as he wanted, so long as his powder lasted, which\nwas but a pound; and that being almost spent, he got fire by rubbing two\nsticks of pimento-wood together upon his knee. In the lesser hut, at\nsome distance from the other, he dressed his victuals; and in the larger\nhe slept; and employed himself in reading, singing psalms, and praying;\nso that he said. He was a better Christian, while in this solitude, than\never he was before, or than, he was afraid, he would ever be again.\nAt first he never ate anything till hunger constrained him, partly for\ngrief, and partly for want of bread and salt: Nor did he go to bed, till\nhe could watch no longer; the pimento-wood, which burnt very clear,\nserved him both for fire and candle, and refreshed him with its fragrant\nsmell. He might have had fish enough, but would not eat them for want of\nsalt, because they occasioned a looseness, except crayfish which are as\nlarge as our lobsters, and very good: These he sometimes boiled, and at\nother times broiled, as he did his goat's flesh, of, which he made very\ngood broth, for they are not so rank as ours: he kept an account of 500\nthat he killed while there, and caught as many more, which he marked on\nthe ear, and let go. When, his powder failed, he took them by speed of\nfeet; for his way of living, continual exercise of walking and running\ncleared him of all gross humours; so that he ran with wonderful\nswiftness through the woods, and up the rocks and hills, as we perceived\nwhen we employed him to catch goats for us; We had a bull dog, which we\nlent with several of our nimblest runners, to help him in catching\ngoats; but he distanced and tired both the dog and the men, caught the\ngoats, and brought them to us on his back.\nHe told us, that his agility in pursuing a goat had once like to have\ncost him his life; he pursued it with so much eagerness, that he catched\nhold of it on the brink of a precipiece, of which he was not aware, the\nbushes hiding it from him; so, that he fell with the goat down the\nprecipiece; a great height, and was to stunned and bruised with the\nfall, that he narrowly escaped with his life; and, when he came to his\nsenses, found the goat dead under him: He lay there about twenty-four\nhours, and was scarce able to crawl to his hut, which was about a mile\ndistant, or to stir abroad again in ten days.\nHe came at last to relish his meat well enough without salt or bread;\nand, in the season had plenty of good turreps, which had been sewed\nthere by Captain Dampier's men, and have now overspread some acres of\nground. He had enough of good cabbage from the cabbage-trees, and\nseasoned his meat with the fruit of the pimento trees, which is the same\nas Jamaica pepper, and smells deliciously: He found also a black pepper,\ncalled Ma'azeta, which was very good to expel wind, and against gripping\nin the guts.\nHe soon wore out all his shoes and clothes by running in the woods; and\nat last, being forced to shift without them, his feet became so hard,\nthat he ran everywhere without difficulty; and it was some time before\nhe could wear shoes after we found him; for not being used to any so\nlong, his feet swelled when he came first to wear them again.\nAfter he had conquered his melancholy, he diverted himself sometimes\nwith cutting his name in the trees, and the time of his being left, and\ncontinuance there. He was at first much pestered with cats and rats,\nthat bred in great numbers, from some of each species which had got\nashore from ships that put in there to wood and water: The rats gnawed\nhis feet and cloathes whilst asleep, which obliged him to cherish the\ncats with his goats flesh, by which many of them became so tame, that\nthey would lie about him in hundreds, and soon delivered him from the\nrats: He likewise tamed some kids; and, to divert himself would, now and\nthen, sing and dance with them, and his cats: So that by the favour of\nProvidence, and vigour of his youth, being now but thirty years old, he\ncame, at last, to conquer all the inconveniencies of his solitude, and\nto be very easy.\nWhen his cloathes were worn out, he made himself a coat and a cap of\ngoat-skins, which he stiched together with little thongs of the same,\nthat he cut with his knife, He had no other needle but a nail; and, when\nhis knife was worn to the back, he made others, as well as he could, of\nsome iron hoops that were left ashore, which he beat thin, and ground\nupon stones. Having some linnen cloth by him, he sewed him some shirts\nwith a nail, and stiched them with the worsted of his old stockings,\nwhich he pulled out on purpose. He had his last shirt on, when we found\nhim in the island.\nAt his first coming on board us, he had so much forgot his language, for\nwant of use, that we could scarce understand him: for he seemed to speak\nhis words by halve. We offered him a dram: but he would not touch it;\nhaving drank nothing but water since his being there; And it was\nsometime before he could relish our victuals. He could give us an\naccount of no other product of the island, than what we have mentioned,\nexcept some black plums, which are very good, but hard to come at, the\ntrees, which bear them, growing on high mountains and rocks.\nPimento-trees are plenty here, and we saw some of sixty feet high and\nabout two yards thick; and cotton-trees higher, and near four fathoms\nround in the stock. The climate is so good that the trees and grass are\nverdant all the year round. The winter lasts no longer than June and\nJuly, and is not then severe, there being only a small frost, and a\nlittle hail: but sometimes great rains. The heat of the summer is\nequally moderate; and there is not much thunder, or tempestuous weather\nof any sort. He saw no venomous or savage creature on the island, nor\nany sort of beasts but goats, the first of which had been put ashore\nhere, on purpose for a breed, by Juan Fernandez, a Spaniard, who settled\nthere with some families, till the continent of Chili began to submit to\nthe Spaniards; which, being more profitable; tempted them to quit this\nisland, capable however, of maintaining a good number of people, and\nbeing made so strong, that they could hot be easily dislodged from\nthence.\nFebruary 3d we got our smith's forge on shore, set our coopers to work,\nand made a little tent for me to have the benefit of the air. The\nDuchess had also a tent for their sick men; so that we had a small town\nof our own here, and every body employed. A few men supplied us all with\nfish of several sorts, all very good, in such abundance, that, in a few\nhours, we could take as many as would serve 200. There were sea-fowls in\nthe bay, as large as geese: but eat fishy. The governor never failed of\nprocuring us two or three goats a day for our sick men; by which, with\nthe help of the greens, and the wholesome air, they recovered very soon\nof the scurvy; so that Captain Dover and I thought it a very agreeable\nseat, the weather being neither too hot nor too cold. We spent our time,\ntill the 10th, in refitting our ships, taking wood on board; and laying\nin water, that which we brought from England and St. Vincent being\nspoiled by the badness of the casks. We likewise boiled up about eighty\ngallons of sea-lions oil, as we might have done several tons, had we\nbeen provided with vessels. We refined it for our lamps, to save\ncandles. The sailors sometimes use it to fry their meat, for want of\nbutter, and find it agreeable enough. The men who worked on our\nrigging, eat young seals, which they preferred to our ships victuals, &\nsaid it was as good as English lamb, though I should have been glad of\nsuch an exchange. We made what haste we could to get all the necessaries\non board, being willing to lose no time; for we were informed at the\nCanaries, that five stout French ships were coming together to those\nseas.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Life and Most Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, Mariner (1801)\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed\nproduced from images generously made available by Digital\nCollections, J. Y. Joyner Library, East Carolina University.\n         [Illustration: A Map of the _Middle Part OF_ AMERICA]\n                        Containing the LIVES of\n                  Captain _Misson_.  Captain _Fly_.\n                   Captain _Bowen_.  Captain _Howard_.\n                    Captain _Kidd_.  Captain _Lewis_.\n                     Captain _Tew_.  Captain _Cornelius_.\n                  Captain _Halsey_.  Captain _Williams_.\n                   Captain _White_.  Captain _Burgess_.\n                 Captain _Condent_.  Captain _North_.\n                 Captain _Bellamy_.\n                        And their several CREWS.\nDescription of MAGADOXA in _Ethiopia_; the natural Hatred and Cruelty of\nthe Inhabitants to all Whites; their Laws, Manners, Customs, Government\nand Religion: With a particular ACCOUNT of the beautiful Tombs, and\ntheir Ceremony of guarding them, taken from Captain _Beavis_'s Journal;\nand that of a Molotto, who belong'd to the said Captain, was taken by,\nand lived several Years with the MAGADOXIANS.\nAn APPENDIX, which compleats the Lives of the first Volume, corrects\nsome Mistakes; and contains the Tryal and Execution of the Pyrates at\n_Providence_; under Governor _Rogers_; with some other necessary\nInsertions, which did not come to Hand till after the Publication of the\nfirst Volume, and which makes up what was defective. Collected from\nJournals of Pyrates, brought away by a Person who was taken by, and\nforc'd to live with them 12 Years; and from those of Commanders, who had\nfallen into their Hands, some of whom have permitted their Names to be\nmade use of, as a Proof of the Veracity of what we have published. The\nWhole instructive and entertaining.\n              By Capt. CHARLES JOHNSON, Author of Vol. I.\n          _Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci._ Hor.\n       Printed for, and Sold by T. WOODWARD, at the _Half-moon_,\n          over-against St. _Dunstan_'s Church, _Fleet-street_.\n_N. B._ From 144 exclusive, to 272 inclusive, when you seek for any\nReference add 16 to Number of the Page in the Contents, and it will mend\nthe Error of the Press.\nHis Birth and Education, p. 1, 2. He goes on board the _Victoire_, ib.\nVisits _Rome_, is acquainted with a lewd Priest, 3. The Saying of a\nCardinal, 4. _Misson_ carries _Caraccioli_ to _Leghorn_, ib. The\n_Victoire_ engages two Sally Men, _Caraccioli_ wounded, 5. _Misson_\nreturns home; a short Description of _Marseilles_; _Misson_ and his\nCompanion go on board the _Triumph_, 6. The _Mayflower_, Capt.\n_Balladine_ taken; the _French_ Captain's Behaviour to the _English_\nPrisoners; his remarkable Speech, 7. The _Port Royal_, an _English_\n_Jamaica_ Man, chas'd; the _Triumph_ returns to _Brest_, strikes on a\nRock; a short Description of the Town and Harbour; she goes thence to\n_Rochel_; _Misson_ and his Companion take their Departure for the _West\nIndies_, 8. The Reason for Circumcision, 9. New Thoughts of a future\nState, 10. The first Foundation of Monarchy, 11. The _Winchelsea_, an\n_English_ Man of War, blown up; _Misson_ saluted Captain, 12.\n_Caraccioli_ chosen Lieutenant; the Captain harangues his Crew; the\nResolution taken by all to turn Pyrates, 13. The Character of a good and\nbad Magistrate, 13, 14. A Defence of Pyracy; the black Ensign rejected,\na new one devised; a Present of Plate made to _Misson_, 16. _Misson_'s\nSpeech to his Men, 17. He declares War against all the World; they take\na _Boston_ Sloop off St. _Christophers_, 18. A _Jamaica_ Privateer taken\nby Stratagem, 19. The Privateer discharged; meets with and turns back\nthe _Diana_; the _Victoire_ engages two _Dutchmen_ between _Carthagena_\nand _Porto Bello_, 20, 21. One of the _Dutchmen_ sunk, the other taken;\n_Caraccioli_ goes ashore at _Carthagena_, 22. The Prize sold to the\n_Spaniards_, 23. Two _English_ Men of War on the Point of engaging each\nother, 23, 24. _Misson_ goes in the Pursuit of a Galleon but misses her;\n14 Men out of the _Dutch_ Prize take on with the Pyrates; they take a\n_Jamaica_ Merchant Man in the Gulf of _Florida_, discharge the Ship with\nlittle Damage, 25. 12 _French_ Prisoners out of the Prize join _Misson_;\nhis Generosity to the Prisoners; heaves down his Ship, 26. The Course\nthey should steer put to the Vote, and resolved for the _Guiney_ Coast,\n27. The _Niewstadt_ taken and detain'd; the Captain's Speech, the Slaves\nmade free, 28. _Misson_ goes into _Logoa_ Bay, cleans the _Victoire_ and\nhis Prize, 29. His Speech to the _Dutch_, 29, 30. The Pyrates take\nanother _Dutch_ Ship on the Coast of _Angola_, plunders and sink her; he\nsends away his Prisoners in the first Prize; 11 _Dutch_ take on with\n_Misson_, 31. He takes an _English_ Ship, the Captain killed in the\nEngagement, and buried in _Soldinia_ Bay; the Ceremony of his Funeral;\n30 _English_ enter with the Pyrates, 32. _Caraccioli_ made Captain of\nthe Prize; the rest of the _English_ come over, Officers excepted; they\ncruize off _Johanna_; save the Crew of an _English_ Ship; they are\nkindly received at _Johanna_, 33. The Policy of the Pyrates; _Misson_,\n_Caraccioli_, and several of their Men take Wives; some stay on this,\nothers join _Misson_; the King of _Mohila_ invades the _Johannians_, 34.\nThe _Mohilians_ defeated; _Misson_ sails for _Mohila_, 35. Lands and\ndoes great Damage; the Queen of _Johanna_'s Request contrary to\n_Misson_'s Views, 36. Ambassadors from _Mohila_; a remarkable Speech of\none of them, 37. Treachery of the _Mohilians_, 38. _Caraccioli_ wounded,\n39. Stratagem of the King of _Mohila_ to excuse himself; the Opinion of\nthe _Johannians_; a second Landing, 39, 40. The Pyrates return to\n_Johanna_; the conjugal Affection of a _Johanna_ Woman, 41. The Manner\nof her Suicide, 42. They resolve for the Coast of _Zanguebar_, 43. They\ntake a _Portuguese_ Ship; _Caraccioli_ looses his right Leg; they return\nto _Johanna_; _Misson_ sails for _Madagascar_, enters the Bay to the\nNorthward of _Diego Suarez_, 44. Pitches on a Place for settling, and\nreturn to _Johanna_, 45. His Demand of the _Johannians_, and their\nCompliance, 45, 46. They go to _Madagascar_; begin to settle; meet with\na Native, 47. They come with a Village, 48.\nTakes the _Coneway_ near _Collequilon_, 49. Steers for _Madagascar_,\nlooses his Ship off, and is entertain'd by the Governor at, _Mauritius_;\nbuys a Vessel, goes to _Madagascar_, settles at _Maritan_, 50. Surprizes\nthe _Speedy Return_, a _Scots_ Ship, 51. Captain _Green_ driven into\n_Scotland_, suspected of pyratically taking the _Scots_ Ship, 52. The\nEvidence against _Green_, 53. That Evidence refuted, 54, 55. Captain\n_Green_, _&c._ condemned, 55. Their Treatment after Sentence, 55, 56.\n_Haines_ and _Linseys_ forced Confession, 56. The _Roper_ Galley brings\nhome two of the _Speedy Return_'s Crew; the Commotions among the common\nPeople, and Execution of _Green_, _Madder_, _Sympson_, 57. Captain\n_Green_'s Speech, 58. _Bowen_ sails for _Mascarenas_, is disappointed in\nhis Hopes, _ib._ Looses Company of his Brigantine; sails for\n_Mauritius_; comes back to _Madagascar_ join'd by the Brigantine, which\nthey condemn and burn; hears of Captain _Howard_, 59. Sails in Search of\n_Howard_, meets with him at _Mayotta_; they take the _Pembroke_, and\nafter plundering let her go, 60. Capt. _Whaley_, falsely printed\n_Woolley_, detain'd; the _Speedy Return_ goes to _Madagascar_ to clean;\ncoming back and missing their Comrade they steer for the _Red Sea_, 61.\nJoin the _Prosperous_ off the Highland of St. _John_; _Bowen_ takes a\n_Moor_ Ship; the _Prosperous_ separated by the Chase joins them, both\nShips burnt, and both Crews go on board the Prize, 62. The Villany of a\n_Dutchman_, 63. Captain _Whaley_ discharged; the _Pembroke_ a second\nTime plunder'd; the Pyrates go to _Mauritius_; two of _Drummond_'s Crew\nget away, who were fruitless Evidences for Capt. _Green_, 64.\n                        Of Captain WILLIAM KID.\nCommanded a Privateer in the _West-Indies_, recommended to the\nGovernment by Lord _Bellamont_, &c. 65. Not encouraged, he is sent out\nin a private Man of War with the King's Commission, 66, 67, 68. He sails\nfor _New York_, in his Way takes a _French_ Banker arrived there, ships\nmore Hands, 68. Sails to _Maderas_, _Bonavista_, _Cape de Verd_ Islands,\nand _Madagascar_; meets 3 _English_ Men of War; meets with nothing at\n_Madagascar_; goes to the _Malabar_ Coast, cruizes about _Mohila_ and\n_Johanna_, borrows Money and repairs his Ship, 69. At _Mabbee_ he takes\nsome Corn; from thence steers for _Bab_'s Key; he sends a Boat along the\nCoast, and gains Intelligence, 70. He falls in with a Fleet, but is\nobliged to sheer off; goes to the _Malabar_ Coast, takes a _Moorish_\nVessel; treats the Men cruelly, and discharges the Vessel; touches at\n_Carawar_, and is suspected of Pyracy, 71. Engages a _Portuguese_ Man of\nWar sent after him and gets off; takes a _Moor_ Ship, under Pretence of\nher being _French_, 72. Keeps Company with a _Dutch_ Ship; quarrels with\nand kills his Gunner; plunders a _Portuguese_ Ship on the _Malabar_\nCoast and lets her go; his Cooper is murder'd in one of the _Malabar_\nIslands; he burns and pillages several Houses; commands a Native to be\nshot, 73. He takes the _Queda_, and shares 200 l. a Man amongst his\nCrew, 74. He cheats the _Indians_; goes to _Madagascar_; meets there\n_Culliford_ the Pyrate, shifts into the _Queda_, and shares the rest of\nher Cargo, 75. His Men desert from him to 40; goes to _Amboyna_, hears\nhe is declared a Pyrate in _England_; Lord _Bellamont_ prints his\nJustification; a Pardon granted to Pyrates, _Avery_ and _Kid_ excepted,\n76. _Kid_ goes to, and is secured at _New York_; some of his Crew\ndepending on the Pardon, are confined; sent to _England_ and condemn'd,\n3 excepted, 77. A Distinction of the Lawyers; _Kid_ found guilty of the\nMurder of his Gunner; some plead the King's Pardon to no Purpose, 78.\n_Mullins_ his Plea, 78, 79. _Kid_'s Plea useless, he and his Men\nindicted, executed, 80.\nReason for breaking off Capt. _Misson_'s Life, his Adventures continued,\n81. _Misson_'s Crew correspond with the Natives; _Misson_ goes to Sea\nagain, meets a _Portuguese_ Ship of 50 Guns, 82. After an obstinate\nEngagement makes her Prize, 83. He meets Captain _Tew_, 84. _Tew_ set\nout by the Governor of _Bermudas_, with Captain _Drew_; they are parted\nin a Storm; he proposes to his Men the going on the Account, 85. _Tew_\nsteers for the _Red Seas_; meets with and takes a rich Prize, 86, 87.\nThe Pyrates share out of her 3000 l. a Man; the Quarter Master and 23\nMen settle at _Madagascar_; _Tew_ goes with _Misson_, 87. Account of\nProceedings ashore, 88. The Prisoners discharged, 89, 90. _Tew_ goes to\nthe _Guiney_ Coast, makes two Prizes and returns, 91. _Misson_ builds\ntwo Sloops, 92. Some Natives settle among those of the Colony,\n_Caraccioli_ goes to _Mascarenas_ returns with a _Dutch_ Prize; _Misson_\nsails to the Northward, meets a Ship of the great _Mogul_'s, 93. Shapes\nhis Course with his Prize for _Madagascar_; is overtaken with a Storm,\n94. Arrive at their Settlement; the _Victoire_ rebuilt; the Settlement\nattack'd, 95. The Disposition of their Forces; they repel and pursue the\nInvaders, 96. The Pyrates take a Ship and execute two Prisoners, 97.\n_Caraccioli_'s Speech, 98, 99. Some Difference arises among the _French_\nand _English_, and is accommodated; a general Assembly called, 99. A\nForm of Government propos'd and enter'd upon; a Council chosen and a\nCouncil-house built; _Caraccioli_ opens the Session with a Speech, 100.\nGreat Officers and a privy Council chosen, 101. _Tew_ goes to Sea;\nspeaks with his old Quarter-Master, 102. The Quarter Master's Discourse\nto him, 103. The Quarter Master's Reasons for settling at _Madagascar_,\n104, 105. The _Victoire_ and her Crew lost; _Tew_ stays 3 Months with\nhis old Companions; meets Captain _Misson_, 106. He tells _Tew_ the\nMisfortune of the Colony; offers him one of the Sloops, 107. _Misson_\nshares the Treasure; they shape their Course for the _Guiney_ Coast;\n_Misson_ perishes in a Storm; _Tew_ arrives at _Rhode Island_; satisfies\nhis Owners; how these Papers came to the Author's Hand; _Tew_ persuaded\nto go out again, 108. He meets a Ship in the Streights of the _Red Sea_;\nis kill'd in the Engagement, and his Men surrender, 109.\nHis Birth; he goes out with a Commission; takes a _French_ Banker, goes\nto _Fial_ and the _Canary_ Islands; makes Prize at _Barca Longa_; goes\nto _Bravo_, turns his Lieutenant ashore, steers for _Madagascar_, takes\nin some Ship-wreck'd Men; makes for the _Red Seas_, 110. Meets with and\nkeeps Company with a _Dutch_ Ship; is broken by his Crew; is reinstated\nin his Command; steers for _Nicobar_ Island; takes the _Buffalo_;\nCaptain _Buckley_ dies, 111. Takes Captain _Collins_; on a Dispute his\nCrew divides; Part go for _Madagascar_; _Halsey_ steers for the\nStreights of _Malacca_; wants Courage to attack two different Ships; he\nchases and is chased by the _Albemarle_, 112. Makes for _Madagascar_,\nfalls in with _Mascarenas_; arrives at _Madagascar_, meets with the\n_Buffalo_ and Captain _White_; augments his Company; sets out again for\nthe _Red Seas_; stops at _Johanna_; narrowly escapes being taken; takes\na Grab, 113. Takes the _Rising Eagle_, the Captain of her, chief Mate,\nand Purser, killed; Capt. _Jago_'s Cowardice, 114. The second Mate of\nthe Prize shoots a Pyrate after striking; they chase and take the\n_Essex_; make a great Booty in Money; discharge the Prizes, are civil to\nthe Passengers, and return to _Madagascar_, 115. A Ships comes from\n_Maderass_, another from _Scotland_ to trade with, and the latter is\nsurprized by the Pyrates; a Hurricane happens; _Burgiss_'s Treachery,\n116. The _Maderass_ Ship seized, and afterwards sent away; _Halsey_'s\nDeath, 117. His funeral Ceremony, 118.\n                        Of Captain THOMAS WHITE.\nHis Birth and Education; his first Employment; he is taken by a _French_\nPyrate and detain'd; they sink their own Vessel, and afterwards burn\n_White_'s Brigantine, 119. Cruelty of the Pyrates to the _English_\nPrisoners; _White_ narrowly escapes being shot; his Protector murder'd;\nthe Pyrates steer for _Madagascar_, loose their Ship at _Elexa_; _White_\nand some other Prisoners get to _Augustine_ Bay, 120. They are obliged\nby the King of _Bavaw_ to enter on board _Read_ the Pyrate; a Number of\nthe _French_ Pyrates cut off, the rest made Slaves by the Natives;\n_Read_ goes to the Gulf of _Persia_, takes a Grab; throws over board a\nQuantity of Gold, 121. _Read_ dies; succeeded by _James_; the Grab\nturn'd into a Ship at _Mayotta_. The _Ruby East-India_ Man lost; the\nPyrates go for _Madagascar_; meet _Fourgette_'s Vessel, 122. The Manner\nof taking this Vessel, 122, 123. They go to St. _Mary_'s; Captain\n_Misson_ and his Crew cut off; the two Ships join Company; come to an\nAnchor in _Methelage_, a large Ship enters the River, 124. Freights the\nPyrates; one of their Ships sunk; the Vanity and Behaviour of the\nCaptain of the _Speaker_, 125. The Purser of the _Speaker_ taken\nPrisoner and released; Treachery of _Hugh Man_, 126. The _Speaker_\nsurpriz'd, 127. _Fourgette_'s Ship given to the Captain of the\n_Speaker_; the Punctuality of the Pyrates; Death of the Captain of the\n_Speaker_; the Pyrates make for the _East Indies_; stop on the Coast of\n_Zanguebar_, 128. Capt. _Booth_ and twenty other Pyrates murdered,\n_Bowen_ succeeds him; in the Mouth of the _Red Seas_ fall in with 13\nSail, 129. A Dispute arises; they take a _Moor_'s Ship; they go to the\n_Malabar_ Coast; _White_ goes on board the _Prosperous_; the Boatswain's\nMates Treachery; the Captain and Chief Mate of the _Prosperous_ kill'd,\n130. _White_ left ashore; goes for _Methelage_, 131. Some of his\nComrades leave him; he returns to _Methelage_, join'd by three other\nPyrates, 132. They hear of their Comrades in the Ship at St. _Mary_'s\nand go to _Olumbah_, where they fortify themselves; Honesty of the\nPyrates among themselves, 133. _White_ buys a Boat; goes to _Methelage_;\nmeets some of the _Degraves_'s Men in a _French_ Prize; is chosen\nCaptain; goes to _Ambonavoula_, 134. Sails for _Mayotta_; thence to\n_Babel Mandel_; lies for the _Mocha_ Ships; takes two Grabs; dares not\nventure on a _Dutchman_; stands for the _Ethiopian_ Coast; takes the\n_Malabar_; chases a _Portuguese_ Man of War; spies a Merchant Man of the\nsame Nation, 135. Takes this Ship; takes Captain _Penruddock_; gives him\nthe _Portuguese_ Ship; made him some Presents; sends him away; share 200\nl. a Man; miss a great Booty; send away their Prisoners; takes Captain\n_Stacy_, 136. The Generosity of the Pyrates; they discharge _Stacy_;\nthey take a Ketch in the Bay of _Defarr_; steer for _Madagascar_; touch\nat _Mascarenas_; some of the Crew stay here, the rest settle at\n_Madagascar_; Captain _Halsey_ comes in; _White_ makes a Voyage with\n_Halsey_; _White_'s Death, 137. His Will, 138.\nHis Birth; he leaves _Providence_; Resentment of an _Indian_;\n_Condent_'s Bravery; he is wounded, 139. A shocking Piece of Inhumanity;\nthe Duke of _York_ taken; the Crew divides; _Condent_ chosen Captain of\none Party; makes for the _Cape de Verd_ Islands; takes a Ship from\n_Maderas_; arrives at the Isle of _May_, and takes 20 Sail; turns\nJustice of Peace; sails to St. _Jago_, takes and goes on board a _Dutch_\nShip; makes several Prizes on the _Brazil_ Coast, 140. Takes the\n_Wright_ Galley, a _Portuguese_ and a _Dutch East India_ Man; steers for\nthe Island _Ferdinando_, discharges Captain _Spelt_; sails again for the\n_Brazil_ Coast; engages a 70 Gun Ship; takes another _Portuguese_ and a\n_Frenchman_, 141. Some of his Men seized in the River of Plate; forc'd\nMen get away; Cruelty to the _Portuguese_, and the Reason; goes to the\n_Guiney_ Coast, and takes Captain _Hill_; stands away for the _East\nIndies_; takes an _Ostender_; arrives at _Madagascar_; meets with some\nof _Halsey_'s Crew which increases his Number, goes for the _East\nIndies_; stops at _Johanna_, 142. Assists in taking the _Cassandra_;\ntouches at _Mascarenas_, takes a 70 Gun Ship; goes to the Coast of\n_Zanguebar_, razes a _Dutch_ Fortification, makes Conditions with the\nGovernor of _Mascarenas_, marries his Sister, comes to _Europe_, settles\nat St. _Maloes_, 143.\n                        Description of MAGADOXA.\nThe Reason of Captain _Beavis_'s coming on the _Zanguebar_ Coast, 144.\nHis third Mate goes ashore, 145. He describes the People at his Return\non board, 146. The fourth Mate and a Molatto go ashore and return; he\ngoes further to the Westward, 147. The third Mate and Gunner land again,\ncome back with 3 Antilopes and two _Guiney_ Hens; the Ship weighs, they\nspy some Men; but they avoid the Boat's Crew, 148. They discover, and\nanchor before a Town; the Men sent, civilly treated, 149. They return to\nthe Ship with a Present from the King's Son; the third Mate, Gunner, and\nMolotto, ensnared, 150. The Ship's Boat seized, 151. The first Mate goes\ntowards the Shore, the Natives discharge their Arrows at the Boat, and\nhe returns to the Ship, 152. The Captain's Method to be inform'd of his\nPeople, 153. The Natives fire at the Boat, 154. The Captain despairing\nof his Men, weighs and keeps along Shore, 155. Sails for _Johanna_, 156.\nThe Manner of the Mate, &c. being betray'd; the Molotto is carried\nbefore the King, 157. His Examination; Description of the Prison, 158.\nThe Molatto is inform'd of the cruel Death of his Companions, 159. He is\ncarried again before the King; what past between the King and him, 160,\n161. He is remanded to Goal; his Conversation with the Jaylor and\nanother, 161. Sent for by the King; to what End; Description of the\nCoway, 162. His Treatment in the Goal better'd, 163. He receives News of\nthe Ship's Departure, 164. He is taken into the King's Service; his\nBusiness; the Diet of the People, 165. His Manner of Life, 166.\nDescription of the Town, &c. 167, 168, 169. The Manner of the King's\ntaking the Air, 169, 170. The Death of Malefactors, ib. The Augazet\ndescrib'd; the Bozee a monstrous amphibious Creature; the Massau and\nSachew described, 171. The King's Diversions; the Genius of the People;\na Tradition among them, 172. Description of the _Pyone_; the Molatto is\nquestion'd for going out of the Town, 173. He attends the King to the\n_Moorzacks_; what they are; the Conversation of the Day, 174. The\nMolotto under great Apprehensions; he is order'd to the _Moorzacks_,\n175. He is taught his Duty, 176. Description of a _Pohalick_, 177. He is\nsent for to the City, clapp'd into Prison; the Reason of it, 178. His\nConversation with the Jaylor, and afterwards with the King, 179. The\nManner of his passing his Time, being remanded back to the _Moorzacks_,\n180, 181. By what Accident he comes into Favour, 182. He teaches the Way\nof Fishing with a Line, 183. The Execution of a _Passau_, 184. A\nparticular Description of the _Moorzacks_, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188. The\nFuneral Ceremony of the _Magadoxians_, 189, 190. The Religion 191. A\nRebellion; a Ship appears; the Molotto brought to the Army, 192.\nTreachery of the King, 193. A great Slaughter; the Molotto hears of a\nShip; meditates his Escape, 194. He gets away in the Night, 195. He\ncomes up to a large River; discovers six Men in his Pursuit; swims over\nthe River, 196. Escapes a large Alligator; spies the Ship, 197. Is taken\non board a _Dutch_ Boat, 198. Two of his Pursuers swim on board the\nBoat; give an Account of one being devour'd by an Alligator, 199. The\nMolotto goes to _Batavia_; sails in the _Dutch_ Service; from _Holland_\ncomes to _England_, 200.\nTurns Pyrate with _Williams_, they take Captain _Prince_; _Bellamy_ is\nmade Captain of the Prize; infest the Coast of _Virginia_, 201. A great\nStorm, 202. Captain _Beer_ taken, 203. _Bellamy_'s Speech to _Beer_,\n204. An odd Accident, 205, 206. _Williams_ takes a Vessel off _Cape\nCod_, 206. Description of _Nova Scotia_; the Pyrates careen in the River\n_Mechises_, 207. A Sailor's Advice, 208, 209. A smart Engagement, 210.\nThe _Mary Anne_ taken, _ib._ the _Whidaw_ lost; Cruelty of the Pyrates;\nExecution of 7 of them, 211.\nHe is shipp'd by Captain _Green_, 212. Conspiracy against, and barbarous\nMurder of, Captain _Green_, &c. 213, 214, 215. _Fly_ chosen Captain;\n_Fulker_ taken, 216. Barbarity used towards _Fulker_, 217. Captain\n_Gale_ taken, 218. A florid Speech of _Fly_'s, 219. _Harris_ taken, 220.\nA Schooner taken, 221. _Fly_ surprized and taken, 222. He &c. are\nexecuted, 223.\nHe sets out a Pyrating in a Canoe, 224. Takes an _Irish_ Brigantine, and\nseveral other Prizes, 225. The Cowardice of a _Portuguese_ Captain, 226.\nMr. _Godly_ of _Bristol_ his Ship plunder'd, 227. _Howard_ like to be\ncarried off; the Pyrates loose their Ship; _Howard_ robs his Comrades,\n228. The Pyrates taken off the Island by another Pyrate, 229. _Howard_\nhimself robb'd, ib. The Thief robb'd by his Comrades, 230. _Howard_ goes\non board the _Speaker_; declared Captain of the _Prosperous_, 231. His\nDesign on a _Dutchman_; _Howard_ wounded, 232. He is joined by _Bowen_,\n233, Two _Moor_ Ships taken, 235. _Howard_'s Death, _ib._\nSets out in a Canoe, 235. He makes several Prizes; Folly of the\n_Bermudas_ Men, Bravery of one _Tucker_, 236. _Lewis_'s Justice, 237.\nHis Cruelty to the _English_, takes the _Herman_, his Quarter-Master\nseized ashore, 238. He is released; the _Sheerness_ Man of War narrowly\nmiss the Pyrates, 239. Takes a large _Frenchman_ by Stratagem, 240. A\nremarkable Accident; Captain _Smith_ taken; the Company parts; the\nConsequence to the _French_, 241. _Lewis_ murther'd, 242.\nMakes many Prizes; burns most of the _Portuguese_ Vessels, 243. Sinks a\n_Guiney_ Man in an Engagement, 244. The firing Minute Guns, the Loss of\na Ship, 245. The fatal Consequence of Revenge; the Pyrates arrive at\n_Madagascar_, 246. The History of King _Chimenatto_, 247, 248, 249. The\nPyrates in Danger of being taken, 250. _Cornelius_ his Death, 251.\nHis Birth, 252. He is left on _Madagascar_, 253. He is taken Prisoner,\n254. Taken a second Time, 255. He is a third Time taken, 256. King\n_Dempaino_ sends for _Williams_, 256, 257. The King of _Maratan_ refuses\nto send him, 257. He is obliged to give _Williams_ up, 258. _Williams_\nmakes a Voyage to the _Red Sea_, 259. He is carried Prisoner on board\nthe _Severn_, 260. He is chosen Captain of the _Scots_ Ship, 261. He is\nput to a cruel Death, 262. His Men on Board murder'd, 263. His and his\nMens Blood reveng'd, 264.\nHe sets out to trade with the Pyrates; looses his Ship, stays at\n_Madagascar_, and is forced on board a Pyrate, 265. Makes a Voyage to\nthe _East Indies_, and gets home; he makes two Voyages to _Madagascar_\nfrom _New York_, 266. Is taken by an _East-India_ Man in returning on\nthe second Voyage, 267. Is condemn'd for Pyracy and pardon'd; goes on\nBoard the _Neptune_, 268. Betrays the Ship, and is chosen\nQuarter-Master, 269. He is stripp'd by his Comrades, recovers his Money,\nis stripp'd again, 270. Goes on board the _Henry_, 271. Is poyson'd,\nThe Reception of Captain _Rogers_, Governor of, and at _Providence_,\n275. _Rackham_ and _Vane_ part, 281. _Rackham_'s Ship taken, he and his\nCrew escape ashore, 283. _Rackham_ gets to _Providence_, and is allowed\nthe Benefit of the King's Pardon, 284. _Anne Bonny_ proposes to her\nHusband his selling her to _Rackham_, 286. _Rackham_ seizes a Sloop,\n287. He forces some of _Turnley_'s Men, 289. Governor _Rogers_ his\nSloops seized, 292. _Turnley_, &c. maroon'd, 294. Their Hardships, 295\nto 303. The Pyrates catch a Tartar, 303. They are all taken, the forced\nMen sent to _Providence_, 304. Governor _Rogers_ sends to fetch the\nmaroon'd Men, 305. The Pyrates who escaped on Shore intrap'd by Governor\n_Rogers_, 306 to 308. _Rounsival_'s Generosity, 309. _Teach_ sends Mr.\n_Mark_ for Druggs, _Wragg_, &c. left Hostages, 313. The Hostages in\nJeopardy of their Lives; a Boat coming on board saves them, 314, 315.\n_Teach_ draws up before _Charles Town_, 316. The Hostages released, 316.\nA Vindication of Governor _Eden_, 317 to 319. Major _Bonnet_'s Letter to\nthe Governor, 321, 323. The manner of taking Captain _Worley_, 325, 329.\nThe Particulars of Captain _Evan_'s his being taken, from his own\nLetter, 330, 335. Tryal of the Pyrates, 336 to 355. Their Behaviour and\nExecution, 356, 360. Captain _Vane_'s Procedure at _Providence_, 362.\nHis Letter to Governor _Rogers_, 363. Captain _King_'s Protest, 365 to\n370. Captain _Bowen_'s Birth and first Employment, 371. He is taken by a\n_French_ Pyrate, 372.\nHis Birth, 373. He's press'd; runs away; goes a Privateering, 374.\nPress'd a second Time; runs away again; Captain _Lycence_ killed, 376.\n_North_ is again press'd and escapes, 377. The Temerity of a\n_Frenchman_, 379. He _&c._ turn Pyrates, 380. Take the King of\n_Mayotta_, 381. Stand for the _Red Seas_, Consort with _Culliford_ and\n_Shivers_, take a _Moors_ Ship, 382. Roguery among the Pyrates, 383. A\n_Moor_ Ship escapes; they take three others of the same Nation, 384. The\nCaptain of the _Dolphin_ gives over Pyrating and returns home; _North_\nseparated by bad Weather, they plunder a _Dane_, set Fire to the\n_Dolphin_, the Reason, 385. _North_ overset and swims to Shore, 386. The\nPyrates throw over their Guns in a Storm, 387. They are shew'd a Well of\nWater of a strange Nature, 388. They meet the _Prosperous_, and soon\nafter _Moor_ Ships, 389. They burn the _Speedy Return_; sink the\n_Prosperous_; they are all poisoned, 390. Four only die; _Bowen_'s\nDeath; _North_ made Captain, 391. Ceremony of making their Captain, 392.\nBy _North_'s Advice the _Moors_ go off with their Ship, 393. The Pyrates\nsettle on _Madagascar_; their Way of Life, 394 to 397. _North_ travels\n_Southward_ to trade, 397. He joins and goes to War with the\n_Mangorians_, 398. He besieges a Town, the Manner of the Siege, 399,\n400. _North_'s Allies design to deceive him, 401. His Proceedings upon\nthe Discovery, 402, 403, 404. _North_ returns homewards, join'd by the\n_Timouses_, the Ceremony of swearing among those of _Madagascar_, 405.\n_Halsey_ comes in, _North_ and Company go on board him, 406. _North_\ndrives out the _Timouses_, 407. _North_'s Humanity to a _Frenchman_,\n410. _North_ revenges the Barbarity of the _Mayottans_ towards some\n_English_, 412. _North_ murder'd, _ib._\nWe can be somewhat particular in the Life of this Gentleman, because, by\nvery great Accident, we have got into our Hands a _French_ Manuscript,\nin which he himself gives a Detail of his Actions. He was born in\n_Provence_, of an ancient Family; his Father, whose true Name he\nconceals, was Master of a plentiful Fortune; but having a great Number\nof Children, our Rover had but little Hopes of other Fortune than what\nhe could carve out for himself with his Sword. His Parents took Care to\ngive him an Education equal to his Birth. After he had passed his\nHumanity and Logick, and was a tolerable Mathematician, at the Age of\nFifteen he was sent to _Angiers_, where he was a Year learning his\nExercises. His Father, at his Return home, would have put him into the\nMusketeers; but as he was of a roving Temper, and much affected with the\nAccounts he had read in Books of Travels, he chose the Sea as a Life\nwhich abounds with more Variety, and would afford him an Opportunity to\ngratify his Curiosity, by the Change of Countries. Having made this\nChoice, his Father, with Letters of Recommendation, and every Thing\nfitting for him, sent him Voluntier on board the _Victoire_, commanded\nby Monsieur _Fourbin_, his Relation. He was received on Board with all\npossible Regard by the Captain, whose Ship was at _Marseilles_, and was\norder'd to cruize soon after _Misson_'s Arrival. Nothing could be more\nagreeable to the Inclinations of our Voluntier than this Cruize, which\nmade him acquainted with the most noted Ports of the _Mediterranean_,\nand gave him a great Insight into the practical Part of Navigation. He\ngrew fond of this Life, and was resolved to be a compleat Sailor, which\nmade him always one of the first on a Yard Arm, either to Hand or Reef,\nand very inquisitive in the different Methods of working a Ship: His\nDiscourse was turn'd on no other Subject, and he would often get the\nBoatswain and Carpenter to teach him in their Cabbins the constituent\nParts of a Ship's Hull, and how to rigg her, which he generously paid\n'em for; and tho' he spent a great Part of his Time with these two\nOfficers, yet he behaved himself with such Prudence that they never\nattempted at a Familiarity, and always paid the Respect due to his\nFamily. The Ship being at _Naples_, he obtained Leave of his Captain to\ngo to _Rome_, which he had a great Desire to visit. Hence we may date\nhis Misfortunes; for, remarking the licentious Lives of the Clergy (so\ndifferent from the Regularity observ'd among the _French_\nEcclesiasticks,) the Luxury of the Papal Court, and that nothing but\nHulls of Religion was to be found in the Metropolis of the Christian\nChurch, he began to figure to himself that all Religion was no more than\na Curb upon the Minds of the Weaker, which the wiser Sort yielded to, in\nAppearance only. These Sentiments, so disadvantageous to Religion and\nhimself, were strongly riveted by accidentally becoming acquainted with\na lewd Priest, who was, at his Arrival (by meer Chance) his Confessor,\nand after that his Procurer and Companion, for he kept him Company to\nhis Death. One Day, having an Opportunity, he told _Misson_, a Religious\nwas a very good Life, where a Man had a subtle enterprising Genius, and\nsome Friends; for such a one wou'd, in a short Time, rise to such\nDignities in the Church, the Hopes of which was the Motive of all the\nwiser Sort, who voluntarily took upon them the sacerdotal Habit. That\nthe ecclesiastical State was govern'd with the same Policy as were\nsecular Principalities and Kingdoms; that what was beneficial, not what\nwas meritorious and virtuous, would be alone regarded. That there were\nno more Hopes for a Man of Piety and Learning in the Patrimony of St.\n_Peter_, than in any other Monarchy, nay, rather less; for this being\nknown to be real, that Man's rejected as a Visionary, no way fit for\nEmployment; as one whose Scruples might prove prejudicial; for its a\nMaxim, that Religion and Politicks can never set up in one House. As to\nour Statesmen, don't imagine that the Purple makes 'em less Courtiers\nthan are those of other Nations; they know and pursue the _Reggione del\nStato_ (a Term of Art which means Self-Interest) with as much Cunning\nand as little Conscience as any Secular; and are as artful where Art is\nrequired, and as barefaced and impudent when their Power is great enough\nto support 'em, in the oppressing the People, and aggrandizing their\nFamilies. What their Morals are, you may read in the Practice of their\nLives, and their Sentiments of Religion from this Saying of a certain\nCardinal, _Quantum Lucrum ex ista fabula Christi!_ which many of 'em may\nsay, tho' they are not so foolish. For my Part, I am quite tir'd of the\nFarce, and will lay hold on the first Opportunity to throw off this\nmasquerading Habit; for, by Reason of my Age, I must act an under Part\nmany Years; and before I can rise to share the Spoils of the People, I\nshall, I fear, be too old to enjoy the Sweets of Luxury; and, as I am an\nEnemy to Restraint, I am apprehensive I shall never act up to my\nCharacter, and carry thro' the Hypocrite with Art enough to rise to any\nconsiderable Post in the Church. My Parents did not consult my Genius,\nor they would have given me a Sword instead of a Pair of Beads.\n_Misson_ advised him to go with him Voluntier, and offer'd him Money to\ncloath him; the Priest leap'd at the Proposal, and a Letter coming to\n_Misson_ from his Captain, that he was going to _Leghorn_, and left to\nhim either to come to _Naples_, or go by Land; he chose the latter, and\nthe _Dominican_, whom he furnish'd with Money, clothing himself very\nCavalierly, threw off his Habit, and preceeded him two Days, staying at\n_Pisa_ for _Misson_; from whence they went together to _Leghorn_, where\nthey found the _Victoire_, and Signor _Caraccioli_, recommended by his\nFriend, was received on Board. Two Days after they weigh'd from hence,\nand after a Week's Cruize fell in with two _Sally_ Men, the one of\ntwenty, the other of twenty four Guns; the _Victoire_ had but thirty\nmounted, though she had Ports for forty. The Engagement was long and\nbloody, for the _Sally_ Man hop'd to carry the _Victoire_; and, on the\ncontrary, Captain _Fourbin_, so far from having any Thoughts of being\ntaken, he was resolutely bent to make Prize of his Enemies, or sink his\nShip. One of the _Sally_ Men was commanded by a _Spanish_ Renegade,\n(though he had only the Title of a Lieutenant) for the Captain was a\nyoung Man who knew little of Marine Affairs.\nThis Ship was called the _Lyon_; and he attempted, more than once, to\nboard the _Victoire_; but by a Shot betwixt Wind and Water, he was\nobliged to sheer off, and running his Guns, _&c._ on one Side, bring her\non the careen to stop his Leak; this being done with too much\nPrecipitation, she overset, and every Soul was lost: His Comrade seeing\nthis Disaster, threw out all his small Sails, and endeavour'd to get\noff, but the _Victoire_ wrong'd her, and oblig'd her to renew the Fight,\nwhich she did with great Obstinacy, and made Monsieur _Fourbin_ despair\nof carrying her if he did not board; he made Preparations accordingly.\nSignior _Caraccioli_ and _Misson_ were the two first on board when the\nCommand was given; but they and their Followers were beat back by the\nDespair of the _Sally_ Men; the former received a Shot in his Thigh, and\nwas carried down to the Surgeon. The _Victoire_ laid her on board the\nsecond time, and the _Sally_ Men defended their Decks with such\nResolution, that they were cover'd with their own, and the dead Bodies\nof their Enemies. _Misson_ seeing one of 'em jump down the Main-Hatch\nwith a lighted Match, suspecting his Design, resolutely leap'd after\nhim, and reaching him with his Sabre, laid him dead the Moment he was\ngoing to set Fire to the Powder. The _Victoire_ pouring in more Men, the\n_Mahometans_ quitted the Decks, finding Resistance vain, and fled for\nShelter to the Cook Room, Steerage and Cabbins, and some run between\nDecks. The _French_ gave 'em Quarters, and put the Prisoners on board\nthe _Victoire_, the Prize yielding nothing worth mention, except Liberty\nto about fifteen Christian Slaves; she was carried into and sold with\nthe Prisoners at _Leghorn_. The _Turks_ lost a great many Men, the\n_French_ not less than 35 in boarding, for they lost very few by the\ngreat Shot, the _Sally_ Men firing mostly at the Masts and Rigging,\nhoping by disabling to carry her. The limited Time of their Cruize being\nout, the _Victoire_ returned to _Marseilles_, from whence _Misson_,\ntaking his Companion, went to visit his Parents, to whom the Captain\nsent a very advantageous Character, both of his Courage and Conduct. He\nwas about a Month at home when his Captain wrote to him, that his Ship\nwas order'd to _Rochelle_, from whence he was to sail for the\n_West-Indies_ with some Merchant Men. This was very agreeable to\n_Misson_ and Signior _Caraccioli_, who immediately set out for\n_Marseilles_. This Town is well fortified, has four Parish Churches, and\nthe Number of Inhabitants is computed to be about 120,000; the Harbour\nis esteemed the safest in the _Mediterranean_, and is the common Station\nfor the _French_ Gallies.\nLeaving this Place, they steer'd for _Rochelle_, where the _Victoire_\nwas dock'd, the Merchant Ships not being near ready. _Misson_, who did\nnot care to pass so long a Time in Idleness, proposed to his Comrade the\ntaking a Cruize on board the _Triumph_, who was going into the _English_\nChannel; the _Italian_ readily consented to it.\nBetween the Isle of _Guernsey_ and the _Start Point_, they met with the\n_Mayflower_, Captain _Balladine_ Commanded, a Merchant Ship of 18 Guns,\nrichly laden, and coming from _Jamaica_. The Captain of the _English_\nmade a gallant Resistance, and fought his Ship so long, that the\n_French_ could not carry her into Harbour, wherefore they took the\nMoney, and what was most valuable, out of her; and finding she made more\nWater than the Pumps could free, quitted, and saw her go down in less\nthan four Hours after. Monsieur _le Blanc_, the _French_ Captain,\nreceived Captain _Balladine_ very civilly, and would not suffer either\nhim or his Men to be stripp'd, saying, None but Cowards ought to be\ntreated after that Manner; that brave Men ought to treat such, though\ntheir Enemies, as Brothers; and that to use a gallant Man (who does his\nDuty) ill, speaks a Revenge which cannot proceed but from a Coward Soul.\nHe order'd that the Prisoners should have their Chests; and when some of\nhis Men seem'd to mutter, he bid 'em remember the Grandeur of the\nMonarch they serv'd; that they were neither Pyrates nor Privateers; and,\nas brave Men, they ought to shew their Enemies an Example they would\nwillingly have follow'd, and use their Prisoners as they wish'd to be\nus'd.\nThey running up the _English_ Channel as high as _Beachy Head_, and, in\nreturning, fell in with three fifty Gun Ships, which gave Chace to the\n_Triumph_; but as she was an excellent Sailor, she run 'em out of Sight\nin seven Glasses, and made the best of her Way for the _Lands-End_; they\nhere cruized eight Days, then doubling Cape _Cornwall_, ran up the\n_Bristol_ Channel, near as far as _Nash Point_, and intercepted a small\nShip from _Barbadoes_, and stretching away to the Northward, gave Chase\nto a Ship they saw in the Evening, but lost her in the Night. The\n_Triumph_ stood then towards _Milford_, and spying a Sail, endeavour'd\nto cut her off the Land, but found it impossible; for she got into the\nHaven, though they came up with her very fast, and she had surely been\ntaken, had the Chase had been any thing longer.\nCaptain _Balladine_, who took the Glass, said it was the _Port Royal_, a\n_Bristol_ Ship which left _Jamaica_ in Company with him and the\n_Charles_. They now return'd to their own Coast, and sold their Prize at\n_Brest_, where, at his Desire, they left Captain _Balladine_, and\nMonsieur _le Blanc_ made him a Present of Purse with 40 _Louis_'s for\nhis Support; his Crew were also left here.\nAt the Entrance into this Harbour the _Triumph_ struck upon a Rock, but\nreceived no Damage: This Entrance, called _Gonlet_, is very dangerous on\nAccount of the Number of Rocks which lie on each Side under Water,\nthough the Harbour is certainly the best in _France_. The Mouth of the\nHarbour is defended by a strong Castle; the Town is well fortified, and\nhas a Citadel for its farther Defence, which is of considerable\nStrength. In 1694 the _English_ attempted a Descent, but did not find\ntheir Market, for they were beat off with the Loss of their General, and\na great many Men. From hence the _Triumph_ return'd to _Rochel_, and in\na Month after our Voluntiers, who went on board the _Victoire_, took\ntheir Departure for _Martineco_ and _Guadalupa_; they met with nothing\nin their Voyage thither worth noting.\nI shall only observe, that Signior _Caraccioli_, who was as ambitious as\nhe was irreligious, had, by this Time, made a perfect Deist of _Misson_,\nand thereby convinc'd him, that all Religion was no other than human\nPolicy, and shew'd him that the Law of _Moses_ was no more than what\nwere necessary, as well for the Preservation as the Governing of the\nPeople; for Instance, said he, the _African_ Negroes never heard of the\nInstitution of Circumcision, which is said to be the Sign of the\nCovenant made between God and this People, and yet they circumcise their\nChildren; doubtless for the same Reason the _Jews_ and other Nations do,\nwho inhabit the Southern Climes, the Prepuce consolidating the perspired\nMatter, which is of a fatal Consequence. In short, he ran through all\nthe Ceremonies of the _Jewish_, Christian and _Mahometan_ Religion, and\nconvinced him these were, as might be observed by the Absurdity of many,\nfar from being Institutions of Men inspired; and that _Moses_, in his\nAccount of the Creation, was guilty of known Blunders; and the Miracles,\nboth in the New and Old Testament, inconsistent with Reason. That God\nhad given us this Blessing, to make Use of for our present and future\nHappiness, and whatever was contrary to it, notwithstanding their School\nDistinctions of _contrary_ and _above_ Reason, must be false. This\nReason teaches us, that there is a first Cause of all Things, an _Ens\nEntium_, which we call God, and our Reason will also suggest, that he\nmust be eternal, and, as the Author of every Thing perfect, he must be\ninfinitely perfect.\nIf so, he can be subject to no Passions, and neither loves nor hates; he\nmust be ever the same, and cannot rashly do to Day what he shall repent\nto Morrow. He must be perfectly happy, consequently nothing can add to\nan eternal State of Tranquillity, and though it becomes us to adore him,\nyet can our Adorations neither augment, nor our Sins take from this\nHappiness.\nBut his Arguments on this Head are too long, and too dangerous to\ntranslate; and as they are work'd up with great Subtlety, they may be\npernicious to weak Men, who cannot discover their Fallacy; or, who\nfinding 'em agreeable to their Inclinations, and would be glad to shake\noff the Yoke of the Christian Religion, which galls and curbs their\nPassions, would not give themselves the Trouble to examine them to the\nBottom, but give into what pleases, glad of finding some Excuse to their\nConsciences. Though as his Opinion of a future State has nothing in it\nwhich impugns the Christian Religion, I shall set it down in few Words.\n'That reasoning Faculty, says he, which we perceive within us, we call\nthe Soul, but what that Soul is, is unknown to us. It may die with the\nBody, or it may survive. I am of Opinion its immortal; but to say that\nthis Opinion is the Dictate of Reason, or only the Prejudice of\nEducation, would, I own, puzzle me. If it is immortal, it must be an\nEmanation from the Divine Being, and consequently at its being separated\nfrom the Body, will return to its first Principle, if not contaminated.\nNow, my Reason tells me, if it is estranged from its first Principle,\nwhich is the Deity, all the Hells of Man's Invention can never yield\nTortures adequate to such a Banishment.'\nAs he had privately held these Discourses among the Crew, he had gained\na Number of Proselytes, who look'd upon him as a new Prophet risen up to\nreform the Abuses in Religion; and a great Number being _Rochellers_,\nand, as yet, tainted with _Calvanism_, his Doctrine was the more readily\nembrac'd. When he had experienced the Effects of his religious\nArguments, he fell upon Government, and shew'd, that every Man was born\nfree, and had as much Right to what would support him, as to the Air he\nrespired. A contrary Way of arguing would be accusing the Deity with\nCruelty and Injustice, for he brought into the World no Man to pass a\nLife of Penury, and to miserably want a necescessary Support; that the\nvast Difference between Man and Man, the one wallowing in Luxury, and\nthe other in the most pinching Necessity, was owing only to Avarice and\nAmbition on the one Hand, and a pusilanimous Subjection on the other;\nthat at first no other than a Natural was known, a paternal Government,\nevery Father was the Head, the Prince and Monarch of his Family, and\nObedience to such was both just and easy, for a Father had a\ncompassionate Tenderness for his Children; but Ambition creeping in by\nDegrees, the stronger Family set upon and enslaved the Weaker; and this\nadditional Strength over-run a third, by every Conquest gathering Force\nto make others, and this was the first Foundation of Monarchy. Pride\nencreasing with Power, Man usurped the Prerogative of God, over his\nCreatures, that of depriving them of Life, which was a Privilege no one\nhad over his own; for as he did not come into the World by his own\nElection, he ought to stay the determined Time of his Creator: That\nindeed, Death given in War, was by the Law of Nature allowable, because\nit is for the Preservation of our own Lives; but no Crime ought to be\nthus punished, nor indeed any War undertaken, but in Defence of our\nnatural Right, which is such a Share of Earth as is necessary for our\nSupport.\nThese Topicks he often declaimed on, and very often advised with\n_Misson_ about the setting up for themselves; he was as ambitious as the\nother, and as resolute. _Caraccioli_ and _Misson_ were by this expert\nMariners, and very capable of managing a Ship: _Caraccioli_ had sounded\na great many of the Men on this Subject, and found them very inclineable\nto listen to him. An Accident happen'd which gave _Caraccioli_ a fair\nOpportunity to put his Designs in Execution, and he laid Hold of it;\nthey went off _Martinico_ on a Cruize, and met with the _Winchelsea_, an\n_English_ Man of War of 40 Guns, commanded by Captain _Jones_; they made\nfor each other, and a very smart Engagement followed, the first\nBroadside killed the Captain, second Captain, and the three Lieutenants,\non Board the _Victoire_, and left only the Master, who would have\nstruck, but _Misson_ took up the Sword, order'd _Caraccioli_ to act as\nLieutenant, and encouraging the Men fought the Ship six Glasses, when by\nsome Accident, the _Winchelsea_ blew up, and not a Man was saved but\nLieutenant _Franklin_, whom the _French_ Boats took up, and he died in\ntwo Days. None ever knew before this Manuscript fell into my Hands how\nthe _Winchelsea_ was lost; for her Head being driven ashore at\n_Antegoa_, and a great Storm having happen'd a few Days before her Head\nwas found, it was concluded, that she founder'd in that Storm. After\nthis Engagement, _Caraccioli_ came to _Misson_ and saluted him Captain,\nand desired to know if he would chuse a momentary or a lasting Command,\nthat he must now determine, for at his Return to _Martinico_ it would be\ntoo late; and he might depend upon the Ship he fought and saved being\ngiven to another, and they would think him well rewarded if made a\nLieutenant, which Piece of Justice he doubted: That he had his Fortune\nin his Hands, which he might either keep or let go; if he made Choice of\nthe latter, he must never again expect she would court him to accept her\nFavours: That he ought to set before his Eyes his Circumstances, as a\nyounger Brother of a good Family, but nothing to support his Character;\nand the many Years he must serve at the Expence of his Blood before he\ncould make any Figure in the World; and consider the wide Difference\nbetween the commanding and being commanded: That he might with the Ship\nhe had under Foot, and the brave Fellows under Command, bid Defiance to\nthe Power of _Europe_, enjoy every Thing he wish'd, reign Sovereign of\nthe Southern Seas, and lawfully make War on all the World, since it\nwou'd deprive him of that Liberty to which he had a Right by the Laws of\nNature: That he might in Time, become as great as _Alexander_ was to the\n_Persians_; and by encreasing his Forces by his Captures, he would every\nDay strengthen the Justice of his Cause, for who has Power is always in\nthe Right. That _Harry_ the Fourth and _Harry_ the Seventh, attempted\nand succeeded in their Enterprizes on the Crown of _England_, yet their\nForces did not equal his. _Mahomet_ with a few Camel Drivers, founded\nthe _Ottoman_ Empire; and _Darius_, with no more than six or seven\nCompanions got Possession of that of _Persia_.\nIn a Word he said so much that _Misson_ resolved to follow his Advice,\nand calling up all Hands, he told them, 'That a great Number of them had\nresolved with him upon a Life of Liberty, and had done him the Honour to\ncreate him Chief: That he designed to force no Man, and be guilty of\nthat Injustice he blamed in others; therefore, if any were averse to the\nfollowing his Fortune, which he promised should be the same to all, he\ndesired they would declare themselves, and he would set them ashore,\nwhence they might return with Conveniency;' having made an End, they one\nand all cryed, Vive le Capitain _Misson_ et son Lieutenant le Scavant\n_Caraccioli_, God bless Capt. _Misson_ and his learned Lieutenant\n_Caraccioli_. _Misson_ thanked them for the Honour they conferr'd upon\nhim, and promised he would use the Power they gave for the publick Good\nonly, and hoped, as they had the Bravery to assert their Liberty, they\nwould be as unanimous in the preserving it, and stand by him in what\nshould be found expedient for the Good of all; that he was their Friend\nand Companion, and should never exert his Power, or think himself other\nthan their Comrade, but when the Necessity of Affairs should oblige him.\nThey shouted a second Time, _vive le Capitain_; he, after this, desired\nthey would chuse their subaltern Officers, and give them Power to\nconsult and conclude upon what might be for the common Interest, and\nbind themselves down by an Oath to agree to what such Officers and he\nshould determine: This they readily gave into. The School-Master they\nchose for second Lieutenant, _Jean Besace_ they nominated for third, and\nthe Boatswain, and a Quarter-Master, named _Matthieu le Tondu_, with the\nGunner, they desired might be their Representatives in Council.\nThe Choice was approved, and that every Thing might pass methodically,\nand with general Approbation, they were called into the great Cabbin,\nand the Question put, what Course they should steer? The Captain\nproposed the _Spanish_ Coast as the most probable to afford them rich\nPrizes: This was agreed upon by all. The Boatswain then asked what\nColours they should fight under, and advised Black as most terrifying;\nbut _Caraccioli_ objected, that they were no Pyrates, but Men who were\nresolved to assert that Liberty which God and Nature gave them, and own\nno Subjection to any, farther than was for the common Good of all: That\nindeed, Obedience to Governors was necessary, when they knew and acted\nup to the Duty of their Function; were vigilant Guardians of the Peoples\nRights and Liberties; saw that Justice was equally distributed; were\nBarriers against the Rich and Powerful, when they attempted to oppress\nthe Weaker; when they suffered none of the one Hand to grow immensely\nrich, either by his own or his Ancestors Encroachments; nor on the\nother, any to be wretchedly miserable, either by falling into the Hands\nof Villains, unmerciful Creditors, or other Misfortunes. While he had\nEyes impartial, and allowed nothing but Merit to distinguish between Man\nand Man; and instead of being a Burthen to the People by his luxurious\nLife, he was by his Care for, and Protection of them, a real Father, and\nin every Thing acted with the equal and impartial Justice of a Parent:\nBut when a Governor, who is the Minister of the People, thinks himself\nrais'd to this Dignity, that he may spend his Days in Pomp and Luxury,\nlooking upon his Subjects as so many Slaves, created for his Use and\nPleasure, and therefore leaves them and their Affairs to the\nimmeasurable Avarice and Tyranny of some one whom he has chosen for his\nFavourite, when nothing but Oppression, Poverty, and all the Miseries of\nLife flow from such an Administration; that he lavishes away the Lives\nand Fortunes of the People, either to gratify his Ambition, or to\nsupport the Cause of some neighbouring Prince, that he may in Return,\nstrengthen his Hands should his People exert themselves in Defence of\ntheir native Rights; or should he run into unnecessary Wars, by the rash\nand thoughtless Councils of his Favourite, and not able to make Head\nagainst the Enemy he has rashly or wantonly brought upon his Hands, and\nbuy a Peace (which is the present Case of _France_, as every one knows,\nby supporting King _James_, and afterwards proclaiming his Son) and\ndrain the Subject; should the Peoples Trade be wilfully neglected, for\nprivate Interests, and while their Ships of War lie idle in their\nHarbours, suffer their Vessels to be taken; and the Enemy not only\nintercepts all Commerce, but insults their Coasts: It speaks a generous\nand great Soul to shake off the Yoak; and if we cannot redress our\nWrongs, withdraw from sharing the Miseries which meaner Spirits submit\nto, and scorn to yield to the Tyranny. Such Men are we, and, if the\nWorld, as Experience may convince us it will, makes War upon us, the Law\nof Nature empowers us not only to be on the defensive, but also on the\noffensive Part. As we then do not proceed upon the same Ground with\nPyrates, who are Men of dissolute Lives and no Principles, let us scorn\nto take their Colours: Ours is a brave, a just, an innocent, and a noble\nCause; the Cause of Liberty. I therefore advise a white Ensign, with\nLiberty painted in the Fly, and if you like the Motto, _a Deo a\nLibertate_, for God and Liberty, as an Emblem of our Uprightness and\nResolution.\nThe Cabbin Door was left open, and the Bulk Head which was of Canvas\nrowled up, the Steerage being full of Men, who lent an attentive Ear,\nthey cried, Liberty, Liberty; we are free Men: _Vive_ the brave Captain\n_Misson_ and the noble Lieutenant _Caraccioli_. This short Council\nbreaking up, every Thing belonging to the deceas'd Captain, and the\nother Officers, and Men lost in the Engagement, was brought upon Deck\nand over-hawled; the Money ordered to be put into a Chest, and the\nCarpenter to clap on a Padlock for, and give a Key to, every one of the\nCouncil: _Misson_ telling them, all should be in common, and the\nparticular Avarice of no one should defraud the Publick.\nWhen the Plate Monsieur _Fourbin_ had, was going to the Chest, the Men\nunanimously cried out avast, keep that out for the Captain's Use, as a\nPresent from his Officers and Fore-mast Men. _Misson_ thanked them, the\nPlate was returned to the great Cabbin, and the Chest secured according\nto Orders: _Misson_ then ordered his Lieutenants and other Officers to\nexamine who among the Men, were in most Want of Cloaths, and to\ndistribute those of the dead Men impartially, which was done with a\ngeneral Consent and Applause of the whole Crew: All but the wounded\nbeing upon Deck. _Misson_ from the Baracade, spoke to the following\nPurpose, 'That since they had unanimously resolved to seize upon and\ndefend their Liberty, which ambitious Men had usurped, and that this\ncould not be esteemed by impartial Judges other than a just and brave\nResolution, he was under an Obligation to recommend to them a brotherly\nLove to each other; the Banishment of all private Piques and Grudges,\nand a strict Agreement and Harmony among themselves: That in throwing\noff the Yoak of Tyranny of which the Action spoke an Abhorrence, he\nhoped none would follow the Example of Tyrants, and turn his Back upon\nJustice; for when Equity was trodden under Foot, Misery, Confusion, and\nmutual Distrust naturally followed.'--He also advised them to remember\nthere was a Supream, the Adoration of which, Reason and Gratitude\nprompted us, and our own Interests would engage us (as it is best to be\nof the surest Side, and after-Life was allowed possible) to\nconciliate.--That he was satisfied Men who were born and bred in\nSlavery, by which their Spirits were broke, and were incapable of so\ngenerous a Way of thinking, who, ignorant of their Birth-Right, and the\nSweets of Liberty, dance to the Musick of their Chains, which was,\nindeed, the greater Part of the Inhabitants of the Globe, would brand\nthis generous Crew with the invidious Name of Pyrates, and think it\nmeritorious, to be instrumental in their Destruction.--Self-Preservation\ntherefore, and not a cruel Disposition, obliged him to declare War\nagainst all such as should refuse him the Entry of their Ports, and\nagainst all, who should not immediately surrender and give up what their\nNecessities required; but in a more particular Manner against all\n_European_ Ships and Vessels, as concluded implacable Enemies. _And I do\nnow_, said he, _declare such War, and, at the same time, recommend to\nyou my Comrades a humane and generous Behaviour towards your Prisoners;\nwhich will appear by so much more the Effects of a noble Soul, as we are\nsatisfied we should not meet the same Treatment should our ill Fortune,\nor more properly our Disunion, or want of Courage, give us up to their\nMercy_.\nAfter this, he required a Muster should be made, and there were able\nHands two Hundred, and thirty five sick and wounded; as they were\nmuster'd they were sworn. After Affairs were thus settled, they shaped\ntheir Course for the _Spanish West-Indies_, but resolved, in the Way, to\ntake a Week or ten Days Cruize in the Windward Passage from _Jamaica_,\nbecause most Merchant Men, which were good Sailors and did not stay for\nConvoy, took this as the shorter Cut for _England_.\nOff St. _Christophers_ they took an _English_ Sloop becalmed, with their\nBoats; they took out of her a couple of Puncheons of Rum, and half a\ndozen Hogsheads of Sugar (she was a _New England_ Sloop, bound for\n_Boston_) and without offering the least Violence to the Men, or\nstripping them, they let her go. The Master of the Sloop was _Thomas\nButler_, who owned, he never met with so candid an Enemy as the _French_\nMan of War, which took him the Day he left St. _Christophers_; they met\nwith no other Booty in their Way, till they came upon their Station,\nwhen after three Days, they saw a Sloop which had the Impudence to give\nthem Chace; Captain _Misson_ asked what could be the Meaning that the\nSloop stood for them? One of the Men, who was acquainted with the\n_West-Indies_, told him, it was a _Jamaica_ Privateer, and he should not\nwonder, if he clapp'd him aboard. I am, said he, no Stranger to their\nWay of working, and this despicable Fellow, as those who don't know a\n_Jamaica_ Privateer may think him, it is ten to one will give you some\nTrouble. It now grows towards Evening, and you'll find as soon as he has\ndiscovered your Force, he'll keep out of the Reach of your Guns till the\n12 a-Clock Watch is changed at Night, and he'll then attempt to clap you\naboard, with Hopes to carry you in the Hurry: Wherefore Captain, if you\nwill give me Leave to advise you, let every Man have his small Arms; and\nat twelve, let the Bell ring as usual, and rather more Noise than\nordinary be made, as if the one Watch was turning in, and the other out,\nin a Confusion and Hurry, and I'll engage he will venture to enter his\nMen. The Fellow's Advice was approved and resolved upon, and the Sloop\nwork'd, as he said she would, for upon coming near enough to make\ndistinctly the Force of the _Victoire_, on her throwing out _French_\nColours, she, the Sloop, clapp'd upon a Wind, the _Victoire_ gave Chace,\nbut without Hopes of gaining upon her; she went so well to Windward,\nthat she cou'd spare the Ship some Points in her Sheet, and yet wrong\nher: At Dusk of the Even, the _French_ had lost Sight of her, but about\nEleven at Night, they saw her hankering up their Windward Bow, which\nconfirmed the Sailors Opinion, that she would attempt to board them, as\nshe did at the pretended Change of the Watch; there being little or no\nWind, she lashed to the Bow-Sprit of the _Victoire_, and enter'd her\nMen, who were very quietly taken, as they enter'd and tumbled down the\nFore-hatch, where they were received by others, and bound without Noise,\nnot one of the Privateers killed, few hurt, and only one _Frenchman_\nwounded. The _Victoire_ seeing the better Part of the Sloop's Men\nsecured, they boarded in their Turn, when the Privateer's suspecting\nsome Stratagem, were endeavouring to cut their Lashing and get off: Thus\nthe _Englishman_ caught a Tartar. The Prisoners being all secured, the\nCaptain charged his Men not to discover, thro' a Desire of augmenting\ntheir Number, the Account they were upon.\nThe next Morning Monsieur _Misson_ called for the Captain of the\nPrivateer, he told him, he could not but allow him a brave Fellow, to\nventure upon a Ship of his Countenance, and for that Reason he should\nmeet Treatment which Men of his Profession seldom afforded the Prisoners\nthey made. He asked him how long he had been out, what was his Name, and\nwhat he had on Board? He answered he was but just come out, that he was\nthe first Sail he had met with, and shou'd have thought himself\naltogether as lucky not to have spoke with him; that his Name was _Harry\nRamsey_, and what he had on Board were Rags, Powder, Ball, and some few\nhalf Anchors of Rum. _Ramsey_ was ordered into the Gun-Room, and a\nCouncil being held in the publick Manner aforesaid, the Bulk Head of the\ngreat Cabbin rowled up. On their Conclusion, the Captain of the\nPrivateer was called in again, when Captain _Misson_ told him, he would\nreturn him his Sloop, and restore him and his Men to their Liberty,\nwithout stripping or plundering of any Thing, but what Prudence obliged\nhim to, their Ammunition and Small-Arms, if he would give him his Word\nand Honour, and his Men to take an Oath, not to go out on the Privateer\nAccount in six Months after they left him: That he did not design to\ncontinue that Station above a Week longer, at the Expiration of which\nTime he would let them go.\n_Ramsey_, who had a new Sloop, did not expect this Favour, which he\nthanked him for, and promised punctually to comply with the Injunction,\nwhich his Men as readily swore to, tho' they had no Design to keep the\nOath. The Time being expired, he and his Men were put on Board their own\nSloop. At going over the Ship's Side _Ramsey_ begg'd Monsieur _Misson_\nwould allow him Powder for a salute, by way of Thanks; but he answered\nhim, the Ceremony was needless, and he expected no other Return than\nthat of keeping his Word, which indeed _Ramsey_ did. Some of his Men had\nfound it more to their Advantage to have been as religious.\nAt parting _Ramsey_ gave the Ship three Chears, and _Misson_ had the\nComplaisance to return one, which _Ramsey_ answering with three more,\nmade the best of his Way for _Jamaica_, and at the East End of the\nIsland met with the _Diana_, who, upon Advice, turn'd back.\nThe _Victoire_ steer'd for _Carthagene_, off which Port they cruised\nsome Days, but meeting with nothing in the Seas, they made for _Porto\nBello_; in their Way they met with two _Dutch_ Traders, who had Letters\nof Mart, and were just come upon the Coast, the one had 20, the other 24\nGuns; _Misson_ engaged them, and they defended themselves with a great\nDeal of Resolution and Gallantry; and as they were mann'd a Peak, he\ndurst not venture to board either of them, for fear of being at the same\nTime boarded by the other. His Weight of Mettal gave him a great\nAdvantage over the _Dutch_, though they were two to one; besides, their\nBusiness, as they had Cargoes, was to get off, if possible, wherefore\nthey made a running Fight, though they took Care to stick close to one\nanother.\nThey maintained the Fight for above six Hours, when _Misson_, enraged at\nthis Obstinacy, and fearing, if by Accident they should bring a Mast, or\nTop-Mast, by the board, they would get from him. He was resolved to sink\nthe larger Ship of the two, and accordingly ordered his Men to bring all\ntheir Guns to bear a Midship, then running close along Side of him, to\nraise their Mettal; his Orders being punctually obey'd, he pour'd in a\nBroad Side, which open'd such a Gap in the _Dutch_ Ship, that she went\ndirectly to the Bottom, and every Man perish'd.\nHe then mann'd his Bowsprit, brought his Sprit-sail Yard fore and aft,\nand resolved to board the other, which the _Dutch_ perceiving, and\nterrified with the unhappy Fate of their Comrade, thought a farther\nresistance vain, and immediately struck. _Misson_ gave them good\nQuarters, though he was enraged at the Loss of 13 Men killed outright,\nbeside 9 wounded, of which 6 died. They found on board a great Quantity\nof Gold and Silver Lace, brocade Silks, Silk Stockings, Bails of\nBroad-Cloath, Bazes of all Colours, and _Osnabrughs_.\nA Consultation being held, it was resolved Captain _Misson_ should take\nthe Name of _Fourbin_, and returning to _Carthagene_, dispose of his\nPrize, and set his Prisoners ashoar. Accordingly they ply'd to the\nEastward, and came to an Anchor between _Boca Chieca_ Fort, and the\nTown, for they did not think it expedient to enter the Harbour. The\nBarge was manned, and _Caraccioli_, with the Name of _D'Aubigny_, the\nfirst Lieutenant, who was killed in the Engagement with the\n_Winchelsea_, and his Commission in his Pocket, went ashore with a\nLetter to the Governor, sign'd _Fourbin_, whose Character, for fear of\nthe worst, was exactly counterfeited. The Purport of his Letter was,\nthat having discretionary Orders to cruize for three Months, and hearing\nthe _English_ infested his Coast, he was come in search of 'em, and had\nmet two _Dutch_ Men, one of which he had sunk, the other he made Prize\nof. That his limited Time being near expired, he should be obliged to\nhis Excellency, if he would send on board him such Merchants as were\nwilling to take the Ship and Cargoe off his Hands, of which he had sent\nthe _Dutch_ Invoice. Don _Joseph de la Zerda_, the then Governor,\nreceived the Lieutenant (who sent back the Barge at landing) very\ncivilly, and agreed to take the Prisoners ashoar, and do every Thing was\nrequired of him; and ordering fresh Provisions and Sallading to be got\nready as a Present for the Captain, he sent for some Merchants who were\nvery ready to go on board, and agree for the Ship and Goods; which they\ndid, for two and fifty thousand Pieces of Eight. The next Day the\nPrisoners were set ashoar; a rich Piece of Brocade which was reserv'd,\nsent to the Governor for a Present, a Quantity of fresh Provision bought\nand brought on board, the Money paid by the Merchants, the Ship and\nGoods deliver'd, and the _Victoire_, at the Dawn of the following Day,\ngot under Sail. It may be wonder'd how such Dispatch could be made, but\nthe Reader must take Notice, these Goods were sold by the _Dutch_\nInvoice, which the Merchant of the Prize affirmed was genuine. I shall\nobserve, by the by, that the _Victoire_ was the _French_ Man of War\nwhich Admiral _Wager_ sent the _Kingston_ in search of, and being\nafterwards falsly inform'd, that she was join'd by another of seventy\nGuns; and that they cruiz'd together between the Capes, order'd the\n_Severn_ up to Windward, to assist the _Kingston_, which had like to\nhave prov'd very fatal; for these two _English_ Men of War, commanded by\nCaptain _Trevor_ and Captain _Pudnor_, meeting in the Night, had\nprepared to engage, each taking the other for the Enemy. The\n_Kingston_'s Men not having a good Look-out, which must be attributed to\nthe Negligence of the Officer of the Watch, did not see the _Severn_\ntill she was just upon them; but, by good Luck, to Leeward, and plying\nup, with all the Sail she could crowd, and a clear Ship. This put the\n_Kingston_ in such Confusion, that when the _Severn_ hal'd, no Answer\nwas return'd, for none heard her. She was got under the _Kingston_'s\nStern, and Captain _Pudnor_ ordered to hale for the third and last Time,\nand if no Answer was return'd, to give her a Broadside. The Noise on\nBoard the _Kingston_ was now a little ceas'd, and Captain _Trevor_, who\nwas on the Poop with a speaking Trumpet to hale the _Severn_, by good\nLuck heard her hale him, and answering the _Kingston_, and asking the\nName of the other Ship, prevented the Damage.\nThey cruised together some Time, and meeting nothing which answer'd\ntheir Information, return'd to _Jamaica_, as I shall to my Subject,\nbegging Pardon for this, as I thought, necessary Digression.\nDon _Juan de la Zerda_ told the Captain in a Letter, that the St.\n_Joseph_, a Gallion of seventy Guns, was then lying at _Port a Bello_,\nand should be glad he could keep her Company till she was off the Coast.\nThat she would sail in eight or ten Days for the _Havanna_; and that, if\nhis Time would permit him, he would send an Advice-Boat. That she had on\nBoard the Value of 800,000 Pieces of Eight in Silver and Bar Gold.\n_Misson_ return'd Answer, that he believ'd he should be excus'd if he\nstretched his Orders, for a few Days; and that he would cruize off the\nIsle of _Pearls_, and Cape _Gratias a Dios_, and give for Signal to the\nGallion, his spreading a white Ensign in his Fore-Top-Mast Shrouds, the\ncluing up his Fore-Sail, and the firing one Gun to Windward, and two to\nLeeward, which he should answer by letting run and hoisting his\nFore-Top-Sail three times, and the firing as many Guns to Leeward. Don\n_Joseph_, extreamly pleased with this Complaisance, sent a Boat express\nto advise the St. _Joseph_, but she was already sailed two Days,\ncontrary to the Governor of _Carthagene_'s Expectation, and this Advice\nCaptain _Misson_ had from the Boat, which returning with an Answer, saw\nthe _Victoire_ in the Offin, and spoke to her. It was then resolved to\nfollow the St. _Joseph_, and accordingly they steer'd for the _Havanna_,\nbut by what Accident they did not overtake her is unknown.\nI forgot to tell my Reader, on Board the _Dutch_ Ship were fourteen\n_French_ Hugonots, whom _Misson_ thought fit to detain, when they were\nat Sea. _Misson_ called 'em up, and proposed to 'em their taking on;\ntelling them at the same Time, he left it to their Choice, for he would\nhave no forc'd Men; and that if they all, or any of them, disapproved\nthe Proposal, he would either give 'em the first Vessel he met that was\nfit for 'em, or set 'em ashoar on some inhabited Coast; and therefore\nbid 'em take two Days for Consideration before they returned an Answer;\nand, to encourage 'em, he called all Hands up, and declar'd, that if any\nMan repented him of the Course of Life he had chosen, his just Dividend\nshould be counted to him, and he would set him on Shoar, either near the\n_Havanna_, or some other convenient Place; but not one accepted the\nOffer, and the fourteen Prisoners unanimously resolved to join in with\n'em; to which Resolution, no doubt, the Hopes of a good Booty from the\nSt. _Joseph_, and this Offer of Liberty greatly contributed.\nAt the Entrance of the Gulph they spied and came with a large Merchant\nShip bound for _London_ from _Jamaica_; she had 20 Guns, but no more\nthan 32 Hands, that its not to be wonder'd at she made no Resistance,\nbesides, she was deep laden with Sugars. Monsieur _Misson_ took out of\nher what Ammunition she had, about four thousand Pieces of Eight, some\nPuncheons of Rum, and ten Hogsheads of Sugar; and, without doing her any\nfurther Damage, let her proceed her Voyage. What he valued most in this\nPrize was the Men he got, for she was carrying to _Europe_ twelve\n_French_ Prisoners, two of which were necessary Hands, being a Carpenter\nand his Mate. They were of _Bourdeaux_, from whence they came with the\n_Pomechatraine_, which was taken by the _Maremaid_ off _Petit Guavers_,\nafter an obstinate Resistance, in which they lost forty Men; but they\nwere of Opinion the _Maremaid_ could not have taken 'em, having but four\nGuns less than she had, which was made amends for, by their having about\nthirty Hands. On the contrary, had not the _Guernsey_ come up, they\nthought of boarding and carrying the _Maremaid_. These Men very\nwillingly came into Captain _Misson_'s Measures.\nThese Men, who had been stripp'd to the Skin, begg'd Leave to make\nReprisals, but the Captain would not suffer them, though he told the\nMaster of the Prize, as he protected him and his Men, he thought it\nreasonable these _French_ should be cloathed: Upon this the Master\ncontributed of his own, and every Man bringing up his Chest, thought\nthemselves very well off in sharing with them one half.\nThough _Misson_'s Ship pass'd for a _French_ Man of War, yet his\nGenerosity in letting the Prize go, gave the _English_ Grounds to\nsuspect the Truth, neither the Ship nor Cargoe being of Use to such as\nwere upon the grand Account.\nWhen they had lost all Hopes of the St. _Joseph_, they coasted along the\nNorth-Side of _Cuba_, and the _Victoire_ growing now foul, they ran into\na Landlock'd Bay on the East North-East Point, where they hove her down\nby Boats and Guns, though they could not pretend to heave her Keel out;\nhowever, they scraped and tallowed as far as they could go; they, for\nthis Reason, many of them repented they had let the last Prize go, by\nwhich they might have careened.\nWhen they had righted the Ship, and put every Thing on Board, they\nconsulted upon the Course they should steer. Upon this the Council\ndivided. The Captain and _Caraccioli_ were for stretching over to the\n_African_, and the others for the _New-England_ Coast, alledging, that\nthe Ship had a foul Bottom, and was not fit for the Voyage; and that if\nthey met with contrary Winds, and bad Weather, their Stock of Provision\nmight fall short; and that as they were not far from the _English_\nSettlement of _Carolina_, they might either on that or the Coast of\n_Virginia_, _Maryland_, _Pensylvania_, _New-York_, or _New-England_,\nintercept Ships which traded to the Islands with Provisions, and by that\nMeans provide themselves with Bread, Flower, and other Necessaries. An\nAccount of the Provisions were taken, and finding they had Provisions\nfor four Months. Captain _Misson_ called all Hands upon Deck, and told\nthem, as the Council differed in the Course they should steer, he\nthought it reasonable to have it put to the Vote of the whole Company.\nThat for his Part, he was for going to the Coasts of _Guiney_, where\nthey might reasonably expect to meet with valuable Prizes; but should\nthey fail in their Expectation one Way, they would be sure of having it\nanswered another; for they could then throw themselves in that of the\n_East-India_ Ships, and he need not tell them, that the outward bound\ndreined _Europe_ of what Money they drew from _America_. He then gave\nthe Sentiments of those who were against him, and their Reasons, and\nbegg'd that every one would give his Opinion and Vote according as he\nthought most conducive to the Good of all. That he should be far from\ntaking it ill if they should reject what he had proposed, since he had\nno private Views to serve. The Majority of Votes fell on the Captain's\nSide, and they accordingly shaped their Course for the Coast of\n_Guiney_, in which Voyage nothing remarkable happened. On their Arrival\non the Gold-Coast, they fell in with the _Nieuwstadt_ of _Amsterdam_, a\nShip of 18 Guns, commanded by Capt. _Blaes_, who made a running Fight of\nfive Glasses: This Ship they kept with them, putting on Board 40 Hands,\nand bringing all the Prisoners on Board the _Victoire_, they were Forty\nthree in Number; they left _Amsterdam_ with Fifty six, seven were killed\nin the Engagement, and they had lost six by Sickness and Accidents, one\nfalling overboard, and one being taken by a Shark going overboard in a\nCalm.\nThe _Nieuwstadt_ had some Gold-Dust on Board, to the Value of about 2000\nl. Sterling, and a few Slaves to the Number of Seventeen, for she had\nbut begun to Trade; the Slaves were a strengthening of their Hands, for\nthe Captain order'd them to be cloathed out of _Dutch_ Mariners Chests,\nand told his Men, 'That the Trading for those of our own Species, cou'd\nnever be agreeable to the Eyes of divine Justice: That no Man had Power\nof the Liberty of another; and while those who profess'd a more\nenlightened Knowledge of the Deity, sold Men like Beasts; they prov'd\nthat their Religion was no more than Grimace, and that they differ'd\nfrom the _Barbarians_ in Name only, since their Practice was in nothing\nmore humane: For his Part, and he hop'd, he spoke the Sentiments of all\nhis brave Companions, he had not exempted his Neck from the galling Yoak\nof Slavery, and asserted his own Liberty, to enslave others. That\nhowever, these Men were distinguish'd from the _Europeans_ by their\nColour, Customs, or religious Rites, they were the Work of the same\nomnipotent Being, and endued with equal Reason: Wherefore, he desired\nthey might be treated like Freemen (for he wou'd banish even the Name of\nSlavery from among them) and divided into Messes among them, to the End\nthey might the sooner learn their Language, be sensible of the\nObligation they had to them, and more capable and zealous to defend that\nLiberty they owed to their Justice and Humanity.'\nThis Speech of _Misson_'s was received with general Applause, and the\nShip rang with _vive le Capitain_ Misson. Long live Capt. _Misson_.--The\nNegroes were divided among the _French_, one to a Mess, who, by their\nGesticulations, shew'd they were gratefully sensible of their being\ndelivered from their Chains. Their Ship growing very foul, and going\nheavily through the Water, they run into the River of _Lagoa_, where\nthey hove her down, taking out such Planks as had suffer'd most by the\nWorms, and substituting new in their Room.\nAfter this they careened the Prize, and so put out to Sea, steering to\nthe Southward, and keeping along the Coast, but met with Nothing. All\nthis while, the greatest Decorum and Regularity was observed on Board\nthe _Victoire_; but the _Dutch_ Prisoners Example began to lead 'em into\nSwearing and Drunkenness, which the Captain remarking, thought it was\nbest to nip these Vices in the Bud; and calling both the _French_ and\n_Dutch_ upon Deck, he address'd himself to the former, desiring their\nCaptain, who spoke _French_ excellently well, to interpret what he said\nto those who did not understand him. He told them, 'before he had the\nMisfortune of having them on Board, his Ears were never grated with\nhearing the Name of the great Creator prophaned, tho' he, to his Sorrow,\nhad often since heard his own Men guilty of that Sin, which administer'd\nneither Profit nor Pleasure, and might draw upon them a severe\nPunishment: That if they had a just Idea of that great Being, they wou'd\nnever mention him, but they wou'd immediately reflect on his Purity and\ntheir own Vileness. That we so easily took Impression from our Company,\nthat the _Spanish_ Proverb says, _let a Hermit and a Thief live\ntogether, the Thief wou'd become Hermit, or the Hermit Thief_: That he\nsaw this verified in his Ship, for he cou'd attribute the Oaths and\nCurses he had heard among his brave Companions, to nothing but the\nodious Example of the _Dutch_: That this was not the only Vice they had\nintroduced, for before they were on Board, his Men were Men, but he\nfound by their beastly Pattern they were degenerated into Brutes, by\ndrowning that only Faculty, which distinguishes between Man and Beast,\n_Reason_. That as he had the Honour to command them, he could not see\nthem run into these odious Vices without a sincere Concern, as he had a\npaternal Affection for them; and he should reproach himself as\nneglectful of the common Good, if he did not admonish them; and as by\nthe Post which they had honour'd him, he was obliged to have a watchful\nEye over their general Interest; he was obliged to tell them his\nSentiments were, that the _Dutch_ allured them to a dissolute Way of\nLife, that they might take some Advantage over them: Wherefore, as his\nbrave Companions, he was assured, wou'd be guided by Reason, he gave the\n_Dutch_ Notice, that the first whom he catch'd either with an Oath in\nhis Mouth or Liquor in his Head, should be brought to the Geers, whipped\nand pickled, for an Example to the rest of his Nation: As to his\nFriends, his Companions, his Children, those gallant, those generous,\nnoble, and heroick Souls he had the Honour to command, he entreated them\nto allow a small Time for Reflection, and to consider how little\nPleasure, and how much Danger, might flow from imitating the Vices of\ntheir Enemies; and that they would among themselves, make a Law for the\nSuppression of what would otherwise estrange them from the Source of\nLife, and consequently leave them destitute of his Protection.'\nIt is not to be imagined what Efficacy this Speech had on both Nations:\nThe _Dutch_ grew continent in Fear of Punishment, and the _French_ in\nFear of being reproach'd by their good Captain, for they never mentioned\nhim without this Epithet. Upon the Coast of _Angola_, they met with a\nsecond _Dutch_ Ship, the Cargo of which consisted of Silk and Woolen\nStuffs, Cloath, Lace, Wine, Brandy, Oyl, Spice, and hard Ware; the Prize\ngave Chase and engaged her, but upon the coming up of the _Victoire_ she\nstruck. This Ship opportunely came in their Way, and gave full Employ to\nthe Taylors, who were on Board, for the whole Crew began to be out at\nElbows: They plundered her of what was of Use to their own Ship, and\nthen sunk her.\nThe Captain having about ninety Prisoners on Board, proposed the giving\nthem the Prize, with what was necessary for their Voyage, and sending\nthem away; which being agreed to, they shifted her Ammunition on Board\nthe _Victoire_, and giving them Provision to carry them to the\nSettlements the _Dutch_ have on the Coast, _Misson_ called them up, told\nthem what was his Design, and ask'd if any of them was willing to share\nhis Fortune: Eleven _Dutch_ came into him, two of which were\nSail-makers, one an Armourer, and one a Carpenter, necessary Hands; the\nrest he let go, not a little surprised at the Regularity, Tranquillity,\nand Humanity, which they found among these new-fashioned Pyrates.\nThey had now run the Length of _Soldinia_ Bay, about ten Leagues to the\nNorthward of _Table_ Bay. As here is good Water, safe Riding, plenty of\nFish and fresh Provision, to be got of the Natives for the Merchandize\nthey had on Board, it was resolved to stay here some little Time for\nRefreshments. When they had the Bay open, they spied a tall Ship, which\ninstantly got under sail, and hove out _English_ Colours. The _Victoire_\nmade a clear Ship, and hove out her _French_ Ensign, and a smart\nEngagement began. The _English_ was a new Ship built for 40 Guns, though\nshe had but 32 mounted, and 90 Hands. _Misson_ gave Orders for boarding,\nand his Number of fresh Men he constantly poured in, after an obstinate\nDispute obliged the _English_ to fly the Decks, and leave the _French_\nMasters of their Ship, who promised, and gave them, good Quarters, and\nstripp'd not a Man.\nThey found on Board the Prize some Bales of _English_ Broad-Cloath, and\nabout 60000 l. in _English_ Crown Pieces, and _Spanish_ Pieces of Eight.\nThe _English_ Captain was killed in the Engagement, and 14 of his Men:\nThe _French_ lost 12, which was no small Mortification, but did not\nhowever provoke them to use their Prisoners harshly. Captain _Misson_\nwas sorry for the Death of the Commander, whom he buried on the Shoar,\nand one of his Men being a Stone-Cutter, he raised a Stone over his\nGrave with these Words, _Icy gist un brave Anglois_. Here lies a gallant\n_English_ Man; when he was buried he made a tripple Discharge of 50\nsmall Arms, and fired Minute Guns.\nThe _English_, knowing whose Hands they were fallen into, charm'd with\n_Misson_'s Humanity, 30 of them, in 3 Days Space, desired to take on\nwith him. He accepted 'em, but at the same Time gave 'em to understand,\nthat in taking on with him they were not to expect they should be\nindulged in a dissolute and immoral Life. He now divided his Company\nbetween the two Ships, and made _Caraccioli_ Captain of the Prize,\ngiving him Officers chosen by the publick Suffrage. The 17 Negroes began\nto understand a little _French_, and to be useful Hands, and in less\nthan a Month all the _English_ Prisoners came over to him, except their\nOfficers.\nHe had two Ships well mann'd with resolute Fellows; they now doubled the\nCape, and made the South End of _Madagascar_, and one of the _English_\nMen telling Captain _Misson_, that the _European_ Ships bound for\n_Surat_ commonly touch'd at the Island of _Johanna_, he sent for Captain\n_Caraccioli_ on Board, and it was agreed to cruize off that Island. They\naccordingly sailed on the West-Side of _Madagascar_ and off the Bay _de\nDiego_. About half Seas over between that Bay and the Island of\n_Johanna_, they came up with an _English East-India_ Man, which made\nSignals of Distress as soon as she spy'd _Misson_ and his Prize; they\nfound her sinking by an unexpected Leak, and took all her Men on Board,\nthough they could get little out of her before she went down. The\n_English_, who were thus miraculously saved from perishing, desired to\nbe set on Shoar at _Johanna_, where they hop'd to meet with either a\n_Dutch_ or _English_ Ship in a little Time, and the mean while they were\nsure of Relief.\nThey arrived at _Johanna_, and were kindly received by the Queen-Regent\nand her Brother, on account of the _English_ on the one Hand, and of\ntheir Strength on the other, which the Queen's Brother, who had the\nAdministration of Affairs, was not able to make Head against, and hoped\nthey might assist him against the King of _Mohila_, who threaten'd him\nwith a Visit.\nThis is an Island which is contiguous, in a manner, to _Johanna_, and\nlies about N. W. and by N. from it. _Caraccioli_ told _Misson_ he might\nmake his Advantage in widening the Breach between these two little\nMonarchies, and, by offering his Assistance to that of _Johanna_, in a\nmanner rule both, for these would court him as their Protector, and\nthose come to any Terms to buy his Friendship, by which Means he would\nhold the Ballance of Power between them. He followed this Advice, and\noffered his Friendship and Assistance to the Queen, who very readily\nembraced it.\nI must advise the Reader, that many of this Island speak _English_, and\nthat the _English_ Men who were of _Misson_'s Crew, and his\nInterpreters, told them, their Captain, though not an _Englishman_, was\ntheir Friend and Ally, and a Friend and Brother to the _Johanna_ Men,\nfor they esteem the _English_ beyond all other Nations.\nThey were supplied by the Queen with all Necessaries of Life, and\n_Misson_ married her Sister, as _Caraccioli_ did the Daughter of her\nBrother, whose Armory, which consisted before of no more than two rusty\nFire-Locks, and three Pistols, he furnish'd with thirty Fuzils, as many\nPair of Pistols, and gave him two Barrels of Powder, and four of Ball.\nSeveral of his Men took Wives, and some required their Share of the\nPrizes, which was justly given them, they designing to settle in this\nIsland, but the Number of these did not exceed ten, which Loss was\nrepaired by thirty of the Crew (they had saved from perishing) coming in\nto him.\nWhile they past their Time in all manner of Diversions the Place would\nafford them, as hunting, feasting, and visiting the Island, the King of\n_Mohila_ made a Descent, and alarm'd the whole Country. _Misson_ advised\nthe Queen's Brother not to give him any Impediment, but let him get into\nthe Heart of the Island, and he would take Care to intercept their\nReturn; but the Prince answered, should he follow his Advice the Enemy\nwould do him and the Subjects an irreparable Damage, in destroying the\nCocoa Walks, and for that Reason he must endeavour to stop his Progress.\nUpon this Answer he asked the _English_ who were not under his Command,\nif they were willing to join him in repelling the Enemies of their\ncommon Host, and one and all consenting, he gave them Arms, and mixed\nthem with his own Men, and about the same Number of _Johannians_, under\nthe Command of _Caraccioli_ and the Queen's Brother, and arming out all\nhis Boats, he went himself to the Westward of the Island, where they\nmade their Descent. The Party which went by Land, fell in with, and beat\nthe _Mohilians_ with great Ease, who were in the greatest Consternation,\nto find their Retreat cut off by _Misson_'s Boats. The _Johannians_,\nwhom they had often molested, were so enraged, that they gave Quarter to\nnone, and out of 300 who made the Descent, if _Misson_ and _Caraccioli_\nhad not interposed, not a Soul had escaped; 113 were taken Prisoners by\nhis Men, and carried on Board his Ships. These he sent safe to _Mohila_,\nwith a Message to the King, to desire he would make Peace with his\nFriend and Ally the King of _Johanna_; but that Prince, little affected\nwith the Service done him in the Preservation of his Subjects, sent him\nWord he took Laws from none, and knew when to make War and Peace without\nhis Advice, which he neither asked nor wanted. _Misson_, irritated by\nthis rude Answer, resolved to transfer the War into his own Country, and\naccordingly set sail for _Mohila_, with about 100 _Johanna_ Men. The\nShoar, on Sight of the Ships, was filled with Men to hinder a Descent if\nintended, but the great Guns soon dispersed this Rabble, and under their\nCover he landed the _Johannians_, and an equal Number of _French_ and\n_English_. They were met by about 700 _Mohilians_, who pretended to stop\ntheir Passage, but their Darts and Arrows were of little avail against\n_Misson_'s Fuzils; the first Discharge made a great Slaughter, and about\n20 Shells which were thrown among them, put them to a confus'd Flight.\nThe Party of _Europeans_ and _Johannians_ then marched to their\nMetropolis, without Resistance, which they reduced to Ashes, and the\n_Johannians_ cut down all the Cocoa Walks that they could for the Time,\nfor towards Evening they returned to their Ships, and stood off to Sea.\nAt their Return to _Johanna_ the Queen made a Festival, and magnified\nthe Bravery and Service of her Guests, Friends, and Allies. This Feast\nlasted four Days, at the Expiration of which Time the Queen's Brother\nproposed to Captain _Misson_ the making another Descent, in which he\nwould go in Person, and did not doubt subjecting the _Mohilians_; but\nthis was not the Design of _Misson_, who had Thoughts of fixing a\nRetreat on the North West Side of _Madagascar_, and look'd upon the\nFeuds between these two Islands advantageous to his Views, and therefore\nno way his Interest to suffer the one to overcome the other; for while\nthe Variance was kept up, and their Forces pretty much upon a Level, it\nwas evident their Interest would make both Sides caress him; he\ntherefore answer'd, that they ought to deliberate on the Consequences,\nfor they might be deceived in their Hopes, and find the Conquest less\neasy than they imagined. That the King of _Mohila_ would be more upon\nhis Guard, and not only intrench himself, but gall them with frequent\nAmbuscades, by which they must inevitably lose a Number of Men; and, if\nthey were forced to retire with Loss, raise the Courage of the\n_Mohilians_, and make them irreconcilable Enemies to the _Johannians_,\nand intirely deprive him of the Advantages with which he might now make\na Peace, having twice defeated them: That he could not be always with\nthem, and at his leaving _Johanna_ he might expect the King of _Mohila_\nwould endeavour to take a bloody Revenge for the late Damages. The Queen\ngave intirely into _Misson_'s Sentiments.\nWhile this was in Agitation four _Mohilians_ arrived as Ambassadors to\npropose a Peace. They finding the _Johannians_ upon high Terms, one of\nthem spoke to this Purpose; O ye _Johannians_, do not conclude from your\nlate Success, that Fortune will be always favourable; she will not\nalways give you the Protection of the _Europeans_, and without their\nHelp its possible you might now sue for a Peace, which you seem averse\nto. Remember the Sun rises, comes to its Meridian Height, and stays not\nthere, but declines in a Moment. Let this admonish you to reflect on the\nconstant Revolution of all sublunary Affairs, and the greater is your\nGlory, the nearer you are to your Declension. We are taught by every\nThing we see, that there is no Stability in the World, but Nature is in\ncontinual Movement. The Sea which o'er flows the Sands has its Bounds\nset, which it cannot pass, which the Moment it has reached, without\nabiding, returns back to the Bosom of the Deep. Every Herb, every Shrub\nand Tree, and even our own Bodies, teach us this Lesson, that nothing is\ndurable, or can be counted upon. Time passes away insensibly, one Sun\nfollows another, and brings its Changes with it. To Day's Globe of Light\nsees you strengthened by these _Europeans_ elate with Victory, and we,\nwho have been used to conquer you, come to ask a Peace. To Morrow's Sun\nmay see you deprived of your present Succours, and the _Johannians_\npetitioning us; as therefore we cannot say what to Morrow may bring\nforth, it would be unwise on uncertain Hopes to forego a certain\nAdvantage, as surely Peace ought to be esteem'd by every wise Man.\nHaving said this, the Ambassadors withdrew, and were treated by the\nQueen's Orders. After the Council had concluded, they were again call'd\nupon, and the Queen told them, that by the Advice of her good Friends,\nthe _Europeans_, and those of her Council, she agreed to make a Peace,\nwhich she wish'd might banish all Memory of former Injuries. That they\nmust own the War was begun by them, and that she was far from being the\nAgressor; she only defended her self in her own Kingdom, which they had\noften invaded, though, till within few Days, she had never molested\ntheir Coasts. If then they really desired to live amicably with her,\nthey must resolve to send two of the King's Children, and ten of the\nfirst Nobility, as Hostages, that they might, when they pleased, return,\nfor that was the only Terms on which she would desist prosecuting the\nAdvantages she now had, with the utmost Vigour.\nThe Ambassadors return'd with this Answer, and, about ten Days after,\nthe two Ships appearing upon their Coasts, they sent off to give Notice,\nthat their King comply'd with the Terms proposed, would send the\nHostages, and desired a Cessation of all Hostility, and, at the same\nTime, invited the Commanders on Shoar. The _Johanna_ Men on Board\ndisswaded their accepting the Invitation; but _Misson_ and _Caraccioli_,\nfearing nothing, went, but arm'd their Boat's Crew. They were received\nby the King with Demonstrations of Friendship, and they dined with him\nunder a Tamerane Tree; but when they parted from him, and were returning\nto their Boats, they were inclosed by, at least, 100 of the _Mohilians_,\nwho set upon them with the utmost Fury, and, in the first Flight of\nArrows, wounded both the Captains, and killed four of their Boat's Crew\nof eight, who were with them; they, in return, discharged their Pistols\nwith some Execution, and fell in with their Cutlasses; but all their\nBravery would have stood them in little Stead, had not the Report of\ntheir Pistols alarm'd and brought the rest of their Friends to their\nAssistance, who took their Fuzils, and coming up while they were\nengaged, discharged a Volley on the Back of the Assailants, which laid\ntwelve of them dead on the Spot. The Ships hearing this Fire, sent\nimmediately the Yawls and Long-Boats well mann'd. Though the Islanders\nwere a little damp'd in their Courage by this Fire of the Boats Crew,\nyet they did not give over the Fight, and one of them desperately threw\nhimself upon _Caraccioli_, and gave him a deep Wound in his Side, with a\nlong Knife, but he paid for the Rashness of the Attempt with his Life,\none of the Crew cleaving his Skull. The Yawls and Long-Boats now\narrived, and being guided by the Noise, reinforced their Companions, put\nthe Traytors to Flight, and brought off their dead and wounded. The\n_Europeans_ lost by this Treachery seven slain outright, and eight\nwounded, six of which recovered.\nThe Crew were resolved to revenge the Blood of their Officers and\nComrades the next Day, and were accordingly on the Point of Landing,\nwhen two Canoes came off with two Men bound, the pretended Authors of\nthis Treason, without the King's Knowledge, who had sent 'em that they\nmight receive the Punishment due to their Villany. The _Johanna_ Men on\nBoard were call'd for Interpreters, who having given this Account,\nadded, that the King only sacrificed these Men, but that they should not\nbelieve him, for he certainly had given Orders for assassinating the\n_Europeans_; and the better Way was to kill all the _Mohilians_ that\ncame in the Canoes as well as the two Prisoners; go back to _Johanna_,\ntake more of their Countrymen, and give no Peace to Traytors; but\n_Misson_ was for no such violent Measures, he was averse to every Thing\nthat bore the Face of Cruelty and thought a bloody Revenge, if Necessity\ndid not enforce it, spoke a groveling and timid Soul; he, therefore,\nsent those of the Canoes back, and bid them tell their King, if before\nthe Evening he sent the Hostages agreed upon, he should give Credit to\nhis Excuse, but if he did not, he should believe him the Author of the\nlate vile Attempt on his Life.\nThe Canoes went off but returned not with an Answer, wherefore, he bid\nthe _Johanna_ Men tell the two Prisoners that they should be set on\nShore the next Morning, and order'd them to acquaint their King, he was\nno Executioner to put those to Death whom he had condemn'd, but that he\nshould find, he knew how to revenge himself of his Treason. The\nPrisoners being unbound, threw themselves at his Feet, and begg'd that\nhe would not send them ashore, for they should be surely put to Death,\nfor the Crime they had committed, was, the dissuading the barbarous\nAction of which they were accused as Authors.\nNext Day the two Ships landed 200 Men, under the Cover of their Canon;\nbut that Precaution of bringing their Ships close to the Shore they\nfound needless; not a Soul appearing, they march'd two Leagues up the\nCountry, when they saw a Body of Men appear behind some Shrubs;\n_Caraccioli_'s Lieutenant, who commanded the right Wing, with fifty Men\nmade up to them, but found he had got among Pit Falls artificially\ncover'd, several of his Men falling into them, which made him halt, and\nnot pursue those _Mohilians_ who made a feint Retreat to ensnare him,\nthinking it dangerous to proceed farther; and seeing no Enemy would face\nthem, they retired the same Way they came, and getting into their Boats,\nwent on Board the Ships, resolving to return with a strong\nReinforcement, and make Descents at one and the same Time in different\nParts of the Island. They ask'd the two Prisoners how the Country lay,\nand what the Soil was on the North Side the Island; and they answer'd it\nwas morass, and the most dangerous Part to attempt, it being a Place\nwhere they shelter on any imminent Danger.\nThe Ships return'd to _Johanna_, where the greatest Tenderness and Care\nwas shewn for the Recovery and Cure of the two Captains and of their\nMen; they lay six Weeks before they were able to walk the Decks, for\nneither of them would quit his Ship. Their _Johanna_ Wives expressed a\nConcern they did not think them capable of, nay, a Wife of one of the\nwounded Men who died, stood some Time looking upon the Corpse as\nmotionless as a Statue, then embracing it, without shedding a Tear,\ndesired she might take it ashore to wash and bury it; and at the same\nTime, by an Interpreter, and with a little Mixture of _European_\nLanguage, she had, begg'd her late Husband's Friends would take their\nLeave of him the next Day.\nAccordingly a Number went ashore, and carried with them the Dividend,\nwhich fell to his Share, which the Captain order'd to be given his\nWidow; when she saw the Money, she smil'd, and ask'd if all, all that\nwas for her? Being answered in the affirmative, and what Good will all\nthat shining Dirt do me, if I could with it purchase the Life of my\nHusband, and call him back from the Grave, I would accept it with\nPleasure, but as it is not sufficient to allure him back to this World,\nI have no Use for it; do with it what you please. Then she desired they\nwould go with her and perform the last Ceremonies to her Husband's dead\nBody, after their Country Fashion, least he should be displeased, that\nshe could not stay with them, to be a Witness, because she was in haste\nto go and be married again. She startled the _Europeans_ who heard this\nlatter Part of her Speech so dissonant from the Beginning; however, they\nfollowed her, and she led them into a Plantane Walk, where they found a\ngreat many _Johanna_ Men and Women, sitting under the Shade of\nPlantanes, round the Corpse, which lay (as they all sate) on the Ground,\ncovered with Flowers. She embraced them round, and then the _Europeans_,\none by one, and after these Ceremonies, she poured out a Number of\nbitter Imprecations against the _Mohila_ Men, whose Treachery had\ndarken'd her Husband's Eyes, and made him insensible of her Caresses,\nwho was her first Love, to whom she had given her Heart, with her\nVirginity. She then proceeded in his Praises, calling him the Joy of\nInfants, the Love of Virgins, the Delight of the old, and the Wonder of\nthe young, adding, he was strong and beautiful as the Cedar, brave as\nthe Bull, tender as the Kid, and loving as the Ground Turtle; having\nfinished this Oration, not unlike those of the _Romans_, which the\nnearest Relation of the deceas'd used to pronounce from the Rostrum, she\nlaid her down by the Side of her Husband, embracing him, and sitting up\nagain, gave herself a deep Wound under the left Breast with a Bayonet,\nand fell dead on her Husband's Corpse.\nThe _Europeans_ were astonished at the Tenderness and Resolution of the\nGirl, for she was not, by what her Mien spoke her, past seventeen; and\nthey now admired, as much as they had secretly detested her, for saying\nshe was in haste to be married again, the Meaning of which they did not\nunderstand.\nAfter the Husband and Wife were buried, the Crew return'd on Board, and\ngave an Account of what had pass'd; the Captains Wives (for _Misson_ and\nhis were on Board the _Bijoux_, the Name they had given their Prize from\nher Make and Gilding) seem'd not in the least surprized, and\n_Caraccioli_'s Lady only said, she must be of noble Descent, for none\nbut the Families of the Nobility had the Privilege allowed them of\nfollowing their Husbands, on pain, if they transgressed, of being thrown\ninto the Sea, to be eat by Fish; and they knew, that their Souls could\nnot rest as long as any of the Fish, who fed upon them, lived. _Misson_\nasked, if they intended to have done the same Thing had they died? We\nshould not, answer'd his Wife, have disgraced our Families; nor is our\nTenderness for our Husbands inferior to hers whom you seem to admire.\nAfter their Recovery, _Misson_ proposed a Cruize, on the Coast of\n_Zangueber_, which being agreed to, he and _Caraccioli_ took Leave of\nthe Queen and her Brother, and would have left their Wives on the\nIsland, but they could by no Means be induced to the Separation; it was\nin vain to urge the Shortness of the Time they were to Cruize; they\nanswer'd it was farther than _Mohila_ they intended to go, and if they\nwere miserable in that short Absence, they could never support a longer;\nand if they would not allow them to keep them Company the Voyage, they\nmust not expect to see them at their Return, if they intended one.\nIn a Word they were obliged to yield to them, but told them, if the\nWives of their Men should insist as strongly on following their Example,\ntheir Tenderness, would be their Ruin, and make them a Prey to their\nEnemies; they answer'd the Queen should prevent that, by ordering no\nWoman should go on Board, and if any were in the Ships, they should\nreturn on Shore: This Order was accordingly made, and they set Sail for\nthe River of _Mozembique_. In about ten Days Cruize after they had left\n_Johanna_, and about 15 Leagues to the Eastward of this River, they fell\nin with a stout _Portuguese_ Ship of 60 Guns, which engaged them from\nBreak of Day till Two in the Afternoon, when the Captain being killed,\nand a great Number of Men lost, she struck: This proved a very rich\nPrize, for she had the Value of 250000 l. Sterling on Board, in\nGold-Dust. The two Women never quitted the Decks all the Time of the\nEngagement, neither gave they the least Mark of Fear, except for their\nHusbands: This Engagement cost them thirty Men, and _Caraccioli_ lost\nhis right Leg; the Slaughter fell mostly on the _English_, for of the\nabove Number, twenty were of that Nation: The _Portuguese_ lost double\nthe Number. _Caraccioli_'s Wound made them resolve to make the best of\ntheir Way for _Johanna_, where the greatest Care was taken of their\nwounded, not one of whom died, tho' their Number amounted to Twenty\nseven.\n_Caraccioli_ kept his Bed two Months, but _Misson_ seeing him in a fair\nway of Recovery, took what Hands could be spar'd from the _Bijoux_,\nleaving her sufficient for Defence, and went out, having mounted ten of\nthe _Portuguese_ Guns, for he had hitherto carried but thirty, though he\nhad Ports for forty. He stretched over to _Madagascar_, and coasted\nalong this Island to the Northward, as far as the most northerly Point,\nwhen turning back, he enter'd a Bay to the northward of _Diego Suares_.\nHe run ten Leagues up this Bay, and on the larboard Side found it\nafforded a large, and safe, Harbour, with plenty of fresh Water. He came\nhere to an Anchor, went ashore and examined into the Nature of the Soil,\nwhich he found rich, the Air wholesome, and the Country level. He told\nhis Men, that this was an excellent Place for an Asylum, and that he\ndetermined here to fortify and raise a small Town, and make Docks for\nShipping, that they might have some Place to call their own; and a\nReceptacle, when Age or Wounds had render'd them incapable of Hardship,\nwhere they might enjoy the Fruits of their Labour, and go to their\nGraves in Peace. That he would not, however, set about this, till he had\nthe Approbation of the whole Company; and were he sure they would all\napprove this Design, which he hoped, it being evidently for the general\nGood, he should not think it adviseable to begin any Works, lest the\nNatives should, in his Absence, destroy them; but however, as they had\nnothing upon their Hands, if they were of his Opinion, they might begin\nto fall and square Timber, ready for the raising a wooden Fort, when\nthey return'd with their Companions.\nThe Captain's Motion was universally applauded, and in ten Days they\nfell'd and rough hew'd a hundred and fifty large Trees, without any\nInterruption from, or seeing any of, the Inhabitants. They fell'd their\nTimber at the Waters Edge, so that they had not the Trouble of hawling\nthem any way, which would have employ'd a great deal more Time: They\nreturned again, and acquainted their Companions with what they had seen\nand done, and with the Captain's Resolution, which they one and all came\ninto.\nCaptain _Misson_ then told the Queen, as he had been serviceable to her\nin her War with the Island of _Mohila_, and might continue to be of\nfarther Use, he did not question her lending him Assistance in the\nsettling himself on the Coast of _Madagascar_, and to that end, furnish\nhim with 300 Men, to help in his Buildings; the Queen answered, she\ncould do nothing without Consent of Council, and that she would assemble\nher Nobility, and did not question their agreeing to any Thing he could\nreasonably desire, for they were sensible of the Obligations the\n_Johannians_ had to him. The Council was accordingly called, and\n_Misson_'s Demand being told, one of the eldest said, he did not think\nit expedient to comply with it, nor safe to refuse; that they should in\nagreeing to give him that Assistance, help to raise a Power, which might\nprove formidable to themselves, by the being so near a Neighbour; and\nthese Men who had lately protected, might, when they found it for their\nInterest, enslave them. On the other hand, if they did not comply, they\nhad the Power to do them great Damage. That they were to make choice of\nthe least of two possible Evils, for he could prognosticate no Good to\n_Johanna_, by their settling near it. Another answered, that many of\nthem had _Johanna_ Wives, that it was not likely they would make Enemies\nof the _Johanna_ Men at first settling, because their Friendship might\nbe of Use to them; and from their Children there was nothing to be\napprehended in the next Generation, for they would be half their own\nBlood; that in the mean while, if they comply'd with the Request, they\nmight be sure of an Ally, and Protector, against the King of _Mohila_;\nwherefore, he was for agreeing to the Demand.\nAfter a long Debate, in which every Inconvenience, and Advantage, was\nmaturely considered, it was agreed to send with him the Number of Men he\nrequired, on Condition he should send them back in four Moons, make an\nAlliance with them, and War against _Mohila_; this being agreed to, they\nstaid till _Caraccioli_ was thoroughly recovered, then putting the\n_Johannians_ on board the _Portuguese_ Ship with 40 _French_ and\n_English_ and 15 _Portuguese_ to work her, and setting Sail, they\narrived at the Place where _Misson_ designed his Settlement, which he\ncalled _Libertalia_, and gave the Name of _Liberi_ to his People,\ndesiring in that might be drown'd the distinguish'd Names of _French_,\n_English_, _Dutch_, _Africans_, &c.\nThe first Thing they sat about was, the raising a Fort on each Side the\nHarbour, which they made of an octogon Figure, and having finished and\nmounted them with 40 Guns taken out of the _Portuguese_, they raised a\nBattery on an Angle of ten Guns, and began to raise Houses and Magazines\nunder the Protection of their Forts and Ships; the _Portuguese_ was\nunrigg'd, and all her Sails and Cordage carefully laid up. While they\nwere very busily employed in the raising a Town, a Party which had often\nhunted and rambled four or five Leagues off their Settlement, resolved\nto venture farther into the Country. They made themselves some Huts, at\nabout 4 Leagues distance from their Companions, and travell'd East South\nEast, about 5 Leagues farther into the Country, when they came up with a\nBlack, who was arm'd with a Bow, Arrows, and a Javelin; they with a\nfriendly Appearance engaged the Fellow to lay by his Fear and go with\nthem. They carried him to their Companions, and there entertained him\nthree Days with a great Deal of Humanity, and then returned with him\nnear the Place they found him, made him a Present of a Piece of scarlet\nBaze, and an Ax; he appeared overjoy'd at the Present, and left them\nwith seeming Satisfaction.\nThe Hunters imagined that there might be some Village not far off, and\nobserving that he look'd at the Sun, and then took his Way direct South,\nthey travell'd on the same Point of the Compass, and from the Top of a\nHill they spied a pretty large Village, and went down to it; the Men\ncame out with their Arms, such as before described, Bows, Arrows, and\nJavelins, but upon two only of the Whites advancing, with Presents of\nAxes, and Baze in their Hands, they sent only four to meet them. The\nMisfortune was, that they could not understand one another, but by their\npointing to the Sun, and holding up one Finger, and making one of them\ngo forward, and return again with shewing their Circumcision, and\npointing up to Heaven with one Finger, they apprehended, they gave them\nto understand, there was but one God, who had sent one Prophet, and\nconcluded from thence, and their Circumcision they were _Mahometans_;\nthe Presents were carried to their Chief, and he seem'd to receive them\nkindly, and by Signs invited the Whites into their Village; but they,\nremembring the late Treachery of the _Mohilians_, made Signs for\nVictuals to be brought them where they were.\n_More of the History of these Adventurers in another Place._\nThe exact Time of this Person's setting out I am not certain of; I find\nhim cruising on the _Mallabar_ Coast in the Year 1700, commanding a Ship\ncalled the _Speaker_, whose Crew consisted of Men of all Nations, and\ntheir Pyracies were committed upon Ships of all Nations likewise. The\nPyrates here met with no Manner of Inconveniencies in carrying on their\nDesigns, for it was made so much a Trade, that the Merchants of one Town\nnever scrupled the buying Commodities taken from another, though but ten\nMiles distant, in a publick Sale, furnishing the Robbers at the same\nTime with all Necessaries, even of Vessels, when they had Occasion to go\non any Expedition, which they themselves would often advise them of.\nAmong the rest an _English East-India_ Man, Captain _Coneway_ from\n_Bengal_, fell into the Hands of this Crew, which they made Prize of,\nnear _Callequilon_; they carried her in, and put her up to sale,\ndividing the Ship and Cargoe into three Shares; one Third was sold to a\nMerchant, Native of _Callequilon_ aforesaid, another Third to a Merchant\nof _Porca_, and the other to one _Malpa_, a _Dutch_ Factor.\nLoaded with the Spoil of this and several Country Ships, they left the\nCoast, and steer'd for _Madagascar_; but in their Voyage thither,\nmeeting with adverse Winds, and, being negligent in their Steerage, they\nran upon St. _Thomas_'s Reef, at the Island of _Mauritius_, where the\nShip was lost; but _Bowen_ and the greatest Part of the Crew got safe\nashore.\nThey met here with all the Civility and good Treatment imaginable;\n_Bowen_ was complimented in a particular Manner by the Governor, and\nsplendidly entertained in his House; the sick Men were got, with great\nCare, into the Fort, and cured by their Doctor, and no Supplies of any\nsort wanting for the rest. They spent here three Months, but yet\nresolving to set down at _Madagascar_, they bought a Sloop, which they\nconverted into a Brigantine, and, about the middle of _March_ 1701,\ndeparted, having first taken formal Leave of the Governor, by making a\nPresent of 2500 Pieces of Eight, leaving him, besides, the Wreck of\ntheir Ship, with the Guns, Stores, and every Thing else that was saved.\nThe Governor, on his Part, supply'd them with Necessaries for their\nVoyage, which was but short, and gave them a kind Invitation to make\nthat Island a Place of Refreshment in the Course of their future\nAdventures, promising that nothing should be wanting to them that his\nGovernment afforded.\nUpon their Arrival at _Madagascar_, they put in at a Place on the\nEast-Side, called _Maritan_, quitted their Vessel, and settled\nthemselves ashore in a fruitful Plain on the Side of a River. They built\nthemselves a Fort on the River's Mouth towards the Sea, and another\nsmall one on the other Side towards the Country; the first to prevent a\nSurprize from Shipping, and the other as a Security from the Natives,\nmany of whom they employed in the Building. They built also a little\nTown for their Habitation, which took up the Remainder of the Year 1701.\nWhen this was done, they soon became dissatisfied with their new\nSituation, having a hankering Mind after their old Employment, and\naccordingly resolved to fit up the Brigantine they had from the _Dutch_\nat _Mauritius_, which was laid in a Cove near their Settlement, but an\nAccident, that they improved, provided for them in a better Manner, and\nsaved them a great deal of Trouble.\nIt happened that about the beginning of the Year 1702, a Ship called the\n_Speedy Return_, belonging to the _Scotch-African_ and _East-India_\nCompany, Captain _Drummond_ Commander, came into the Port of _Maritan_\nin _Madagascar_, with a Brigantine that belonged to her; they had before\ntaken in Negroes at St. _Mary_'s, a little Island adjoining to the main\nIsland of _Madagascar_, and carried them to Don _Mascarenhas_, from\nwhence they sailed to this Port on the same Trade.\nOn the Ship's Arrival, Captain _Drummond_, with _Andrew Wilky_, his\nSurgeon, and several others of the Crew, went on Shore; in the mean\nwhile _John Bowen_, with four others of his Consorts, goes off in a\nlittle Boat, on Pretence of buying some of their Merchandize brought\nfrom _Europe_, and finding a fair Opportunity, the chief Mate,\nBoatswain, and a Hand or two more only upon the Deck, and the rest at\nWork in the Hold, they threw off their Mask; each drew out a Pistol and\nHanger, and told them, they were all dead Men if they did not retire\nthat Moment to the Cabin. The Surprize was sudden, and they thought it\nnecessary to obey; one of the Pyrates placed himself Centry at the Door,\nwith his Arms in his Hands, and the rest immediately laid the Hatches,\nand then made a Signal to their Fellows on Shore, as agreed on; upon\nwhich, about forty or fifty came on Board, and took quiet Possession of\nthe Ship, and afterwards the Brigantine, without Bloodshed, or striking\na Stroke.\n_Bowen_ was made, or rather made himself, of Course, Captain; he\ndetained the old Crew, or the greatest Part thereof, burnt the\nBrigantine as being of no Use to them, cleaned and fitted the Ship, took\nWater, Provisions, and what Necessaries were wanting, and made ready for\nnew Adventures.\nI shall leave them a while, to relate an unfortunate Story of a worthy\nhonest Gentleman, who suffered through the Rashness and Folly of a\nheadstrong People, for pyratically taking and murdering the Captain and\nCrew of this very Ship _Bowen_ and his Gang now seized.\nAn _English-India_ Man, commanded by Captain _Thomas Green_, called the\n_Worcester_, in her Voyage home to _England_, was drove by southerly\nWinds into _Scotland_, in the Month of _July_ 1704, and anchored in\n_Leith_ Road; the Captain, and several of the Ship's Company, going\nashore for Refreshments, the People of the Town, who had Acquaintance\nand Friends in Captain _Drummond_'s Ship, understanding the _Worcester_\ncame from the _East-Indies_, were very importunate in their Enquiries\nafter this Ship, and being told that they had heard of no such Ship in\n_India_, the Enquirers pretended to be very much surprized; so that, in\nshort, it grew into a Suspicion that the _Worcester_ had not dealt\nfairly by the _Scotch_ Ship, which they had not heard of themselves\nsince her Departure. In short, the Magistrates were inform'd that some\nof the Crew had dropt Words that plainly indicated the supposed Robbery\nand Murders of their Countrymen. Upon this several Men were privately\nexamined; sometimes they were threaten'd to be hanged, and then again\nlarge Promises were made to encourage 'em to discover the pretended\nFact; till at length an _Indian_ Boy was prevailed on to confess the\nwhole Matter upon Oath, as they might think. Then the Captain, chief\nMate and Crew, were seized and sent to Prison, the Ship was unloaded,\nand almost ripp'd to Pieces, to search for Goods, Writings, _&c._ to\nconfirm the _Indian_'s Deposition, but nothing could be found; therefore\nthey were obliged to try them, and try them they did, upon this\nEvidence, and some small Circumstances sworn to by _Charles May_, the\nSurgeon, which carried great Improbabilities along with it. The\nDepositions were as follow; the _Indian_, whose Name was _Antonio\nFerdinando_ swore, 'That on the Coast of _Mallabar_ he came aboard the\nSloop that attended the _Worcester_, and thereafter saw an Engagement\nbetween the said Sloop, the _Worcester_ and another Ship, sailed by\nWhite Men, speaking _English_, and bearing _English_ Colours. That they\ndid engage the said Ship for three Days, and on the third Day the said\nShip was boarded by those in the Sloop, who took up the Crew of the said\nShip from under Deck, killed them with Hatchets, and threw them\noverboard.'\n_Charles May_ only deposed, 'That being ashore at _Callequillon_ he\nheard Guns firing at Sea, and asking some Body he met at the Landing\nPlace, what meant this shooting? He was answered, the _Worcester_ was\ngone out, and was fighting at Sea with another Ship. That the next\nMorning he saw the _Worcester_ riding at her Birth, where she had rid\nthe Day before, and another Ship riding at her Stern. That the\n_Worcester_'s Long-Boat coming ashore, and he asking the Men what\nbrought them ashore? They answered, they were sent for Water, they\nhaving spilt and staved all their Water; and that they had been busking\nall Night. That _this Evidence_ going aboard five or six Days after, saw\nthe Ship lumber'd with Goods, and that he was inform'd that the Ship\nthat was riding at the _Worcester_'s Stern, was sold to _Cogo Comodo_,\nMerchant at _Quilon_. That _Antonio Ferdinando_ was wounded, and some\nothers; and when he ask'd the Patients how they came by their Wounds,\nthey were forbid to answer by Mr. _Madder_, the chief Mate. That all\nthis fell out between the Months of _January_ and _February_ 1703.'\nAs to _Antonio_'s Deposition, it appear'd to be all Invention, and\nnothing true in it; and _Charles May_'s a Heap of sly Insinuations,\ndrawn from a known Fact, which was this; the _Worcester_ departing from\n_Callequillon_ to _Carnipole_, was drove by Stress of Weather from near\nthe Road of _Quillon_ to _Anjango_, where coming near the _Aureng Zeb_,\n_India_ Man, she saluted her with five Guns, which were the Guns the\nSurgeon heard; and the _Aureng Zeb_ came in along with the _Worcester_,\nand anchor'd at her Stern, which was the Ship taken Notice of by him. By\nbusking all Night is meant only beating to Windward, which she did in\norder to fetch _Quillon_, the Wind being contrary. The _Worcester_\nspar'd her Water to the _Aureng Zeb_, which occasioned their sending for\nmore, and the wounded Men, which were proved to be no more than three in\nthe Voyage; one was from a Fall in the Hold, another by fighting with\nKnives, between two _Dutch_ Men, and the other by cutting of Wood.\n'Tis observable likewise, that _May_'s Evidence, which is brought to\nsupport _Antonio_'s, contradicted it in several Parts; for _Antonio_\nswore the Fact to be done between _Callicut_ and _Tallecherry_, (where,\nby the Way, the Ship never was, as was own'd by the Surgeon, and prov'd\nby the Captain's and other Journals) and _May_ heard the Guns at\n_Callequillon_, which could not be less then 140 Miles asunder.\n_Antonio_ makes the supposed Engagement hold three Days; according to\n_May_, the _Worcester_ was busking only one Night; all the rest of his\nEvidence is, _As he was inform'd_, _As he was told_, &c. And what's\nremarkable of this _May_, is, he was eighteen Months after this in the\nsaid Ship, and own'd on the Trial, that he never heard in all that Time\none Word spoken of a Fight with any other Ship, or a Prize taken, or any\nThing relating to such an Action, which must be very strange, if the\nMatter had been true.\nIn short, Captain _Green_ and the rest of the Crew were convicted, and\nreceived Sentence for the supposed Crimes, as follows, _Green_,\n_Madder_, _Sympson_, _Keigle_ and _Haines_ to be hanged on _Wednesday,\nApril_ 4th. _Taylor_, _Glenn_, _Kitchen_ and _Robertson_, on _Wednesday,\nApril_ 11th, and _Brown_, _Bruckley_, _Wilcocks_, _Ballantyne_ and\n_Linsey_, on _Wednesday, April_ 18th.\nI cannot but here take Notice (though with much Concern) that upon the\nCondemnation of these unhappy Men, there seemed a universal Joy in and\nabout the City; it was the only Discourse for some Days, and every Man\nthought himself nearly concerned in it; and some could not forbear in\nWords openly to express their brutal Joy: Now, said they, we'll _Darien_\n'em: By this they shall see we'll do our selves Justice, _&c_.\nAfter Sentence, the Prisoners desired not to be disturb'd in their dying\nMoments, that they might improve 'em to the best Advantage; but now they\nwere not only insulted with the most opprobrious Language, by such as\ncould get to 'em, but continually worried by the religious Kirk\nTeachers. The most dismal Threatnings were denounc'd against 'em, and\nnothing but God's Wrath and eternal Torments in all its Horrors, were to\nbe their Portion, if they died obdurate (as they call'd it) that is,\nwithout owning themselves guilty; and all this delivered with that\nPassion peculiar to that bitter Sett of Men. Nay, so restless were they,\nthat even now, after Condemnation, they singled out some they found more\nterrified by their Cant, and assur'd 'em of Life if they would\ningenuously acknowledge the Crimes they were condemned for; and, at\nlast, worked so far upon _Haines_ and _Linsey_, that they brought them\nto own almost what they pleased. The former of these, upon their Pardons\nbeing granted, gave a frightful Account of the whole Pyracy and Murther\nupon _Drummond_'s Ship, and took Care, as near as he could, to keep\nclose with _Ferdinando_'s Evidence, only here and there he was out in\nvery material Points, as Men always are that don't relate Matters of\nFact. There was a great many bloody Circumstances added to colour the\nwhole, as their Manner of Swearing when they commenced Pyrates (much\nlike the ridiculous Ceremonies at making of Witches) which, he said, was\nthus; Every one of 'em was let Blood, which they mixed together, and\nafter every Man had drank part, they all swore to Secrecy, _&c._ with\nabundance of such Stuff. _Linsey_, a Man of better Sense, contented\nhimself with saying as little as possible, which was excusable, he being\non shoar in the pretended Engagement, so that most of what he said,\nconsisted in Hearsays of the _Indians_, _&c._ Thus these poor Wretches\nscreen'd themselves from this fatal Blow, at the Expence of Faith and a\ngood Conscience, and to enjoy a troublesome Life, perhaps a few Years.\nAs soon as their Confessions were made publick, the Gentry, as well as\nthe Mob, was transported with Rage, and the poor Wretches were blackened\nand reviled in a shameful Manner; and so violent was the Torrent of\ntheir Fury, that it reached even their Council for their Tryals, and\nthey were obliged, for their own Safety, to withdraw into the Country.\nIn the midst of this Confusion two Men, who were known to be of\n_Drummond_'s Crew, came home in the _Raper_ Galley, and made Affidavits\nof the Loss of the said Ship to the Pyrates, as has been mentioned; upon\nwhich her Majesty and Council first reprieved them for eight Days, and\nafterwards desired Execution might be farther respited till they heard\nfrom above.\nThe common People, who for some Time past, with raised Expectations, had\nwaited for the Execution, began to grow very impatient, bitterly\ninveighing against the Reprieve; and the Council met on the 11th of\n_April_ in the Morning, to consider what was to be done; which the Mob\nperceiving, imagined 'twas in order to a further Reprieve or Pardon;\nimmediately all Shops were shut up, and the Streets filled with\nincredible Numbers of Men, Women and Children, calling for Justice upon\nthose _English_ Murtherers. The Lord Chancellour _Seafield_'s Coach\nhappening to pass by, they stopp'd it, broke the Sashes, haul'd him out,\nand oblig'd him to promise Execution should speedily be done before he\ncould get from 'em.\nAccording to the Chancellor's Promise, soon after, on the same Day,\nbeing _Wednesday_, Captain _Green_, _Madder_, and _Sympson_ were brought\nout, and convey'd to Execution, which was at _Leith Road_ upon the\nSands, and all the Way were huzza'd in triumph as it were, and insulted\nwith the sharpest and most bitter Invectives.\nThus fell these unhappy Men a well-pleasing Sacrifice to the Malice of\nwicked Men.\nAs for Captain _Green_'s Speech; after he had taken Notice of the Crimes\nhe was to dye for, and appealed to all present to charge him, or the\nCrew, with any Injustice, since he had lived there; he goes on in giving\nan Account of his Faith, his living and dying in the Church of\n_England_, of their Manner of Life abroad, their Observance of religious\nDuties, and the Sense he had of the Impossibility of Salvation, if he\ndy'd with a Falshood in his Mouth. Then follows,--'Pursuant to which, I\nin the Presence of Almighty God, declare to you his People, that I am\ninnocent in Design or Deed, and free from the Crimes for which I am\ncondemned. That to my Knowledge, I never all my Life-time wrong'd Man in\nhis Person or Goods, or had Accession thereto. What the Custom of\nPyrates is, I thank God I know not: But I understand my Accusers and\nPersecuters will have you to believe, that I think it unnecessary to\nconfess before Men. Take what I say as good Christians ought to do; if\nyou have no Charity, you wrong your selves, and cannot hurt me.'\n'I am told some of my Crew have confess'd the Crimes, and load us with\nGuilt; this is done since Sentence, and in hopes of saving themselves,\nwhich I wish they may do by lawful Means, and not have Accession to the\nshedding innocent Blood. I am a dying, these are still in hopes to live,\nchuse you which of us to believe, _&c._'\nTo return to Captain _Bowen_, who pyratically possessed himself of\nCaptain _Drummond_'s Ship and Brigantine, as aforesaid, he, being\ninform'd by the Crew, that when they left Don _Mascarenhas_, a Ship\ncalled the _Rook_ Galley, Captain _Honeycomb_ Commander, was lying in\nthat Bay, resolved, with the other Pyrates, to sail thither, but it\ntaking up seven or eight Days in watering their Vessels, and settling\ntheir private Affairs, they arrived not at the Island till after the\nDeparture of the said Galley, who thereby happily escaped the villainous\nSnare of their unprovok'd Enemies.\nThe Night after the Pyrates left _Maritan_, the Brigantine ran on a\nLedge of Rocks off the West Side of the Island _Madagascar_, which not\nbeing perceived by the Ship, _Bowen_ came into _Mascarenhas_ without\nher, not knowing what was become of his Consort.\nHere Captain _Bowen_ staid eight or ten Days, in which Time he supplied\nthe Ship with Provisions, and judging, that the _Rook_ Galley was gone\nto some other Island, the Ship sail'd to _Mauritius_, in search of her;\nbut the Pyrates seeing four or five Ships in the N. W. Harbour, they\nthought themselves too weak to attempt any thing there, so they stood\nimmediately for _Madagascar_ again, and arrived safe, first to _Port\nDauphin_, and then to _Augustin Bay_. In a few Days the _Content_\nBrigantine, which they supposed either to have been lost, or revolted\nthat honourable Service, came into the same Bay, and informed their\nBrethren of the Misfortune that happened to them: The Rogues were glad,\nno doubt, of seeing one another again, and calling a Council together,\nthey found the Brigantine in no Condition for Business, being then very\nleaky, therefore she was condemned, and forthwith halled ashore and\nburnt, and the Crew united, and all went aboard the _Speedy Return_.\nAt this Place the Pyrates were made acquainted, by the Negroes, of the\nAdventures of another Gang that had settled for some Time near that\nHarbour, and had one _Howard_ for their Captain. It was the Misfortune\nof an _India_ Ship called the _Prosperous_, to come into the Bay at a\nTime that these Rogues were looking out for Employment; who, under the\nPretence of trading (almost in the same Manner that _Bowen_ and his Gang\nhad seized the _Speedy Return_) made themselves Masters of her, and\nsailed with her to _New Mathelage_. _Bowen_ and his Gang consulting\ntogether on this Intelligence, concluded 'twas more for their Interest\nto join in Alliance with this new Company, than to act single, they\nbeing too weak of themselves to undertake any considerable Enterprize,\nremembring how they were obliged to bear away from the Island of\n_Mauritius_, when they were in search of the _Rook_ Gally, which they\nmight have taken, with several others, had they had at that Time a\nConsort of equal Force to their own Ship.\nThey accordingly set sail from the Bay, and came into _New Mathelage_,\nbut found no Ship there, tho' upon Enquiry they understood that the\nPyrate they look'd for, had been at the Place, but was gone; so after\nsome Stay they proceeded to _Johanna_, but the _Prosperous_ not being\nthere neither, they sailed to _Mayotta_, where they found her lying at\nAnchor; this was about _Christmas_ 1702.\nHere these two Powers struck up an Alliance, _Howard_ liking the\nProposals, came readily into it, and the Treaty was ratified by both\nCompanies. They staid above two Months at this Island, thinking it,\nperhaps, as likely a Place to meet with Prey as cruising out for it, and\nso indeed it happened; for about the beginning of _March_, the Ship\n_Pembroke_ belonging to our _East-India_ Company, coming in for Water,\nwas boarded by their Boats, and taken, with the Loss of the chief Mate\nand another Man that were killed in the Skirmish.\nThe two Pyrate Ships weighed, and went out to Sea along with their\nPrize, and that Day and the next plundered her of the best Part of her\nCargo, Provisions and Stores, and then taking the Captain and Carpenter\naway, they let the _Pembroke_ go where the Remainder of her Crew\npleased, and came with their Ships into _New Methelage_. Here the two\nCaptains consulted, and laid a Plan for a Cruize to _India_, for which\nPurpose they detained Captain _Woolley_ of the _Pembroke_ lately taken,\nin order to be their Pilot in those Seas; but a very hot Dispute arose\nbetween the two Companies, which Ship he should go aboard of, insomuch\nthat they had gone together by the Ears, if an Expedient had not been\nfound to satisfy each Party, that one might not have the Advantage of\nthe other by the Captain's Skill and Knowledge of the _Indian_ Coast,\nand this was to knock the poor Man on the Head; and murder him; but at\nlast, by the Authority of _Bowen_, Captain _Woolley_ escaped the\nthreaten'd Danger, by bringing his Company to consent to his remaining\non board the _Prosperous_, where he then was.\nThe _Speedy Return_ being foul, and wanting a little Repair, it was\njudged proper for her to go back to _Augustin_ Bay to clean; in the mean\nwhile the _Prosperous_ was to have a Pair of Boot-Tops where she lay,\nand likewise to take in Water and Provision, and then to join their\nConsort again at _Mayotta_, the Island appointed for the Rendezvous.\nThe _Prosperous_ put into _Mayotta_ as agreed on, and waiting there some\nTime for _Bowen_'s Ship, without seeing or hearing any News of her, went\nto _Johanna_, but not meeting with her there, they apprehended some\nAccident had befel her, and therefore left the Place, and sailed on the\nExpedition themselves. As to the _Speedy Return_, she arrived safe at\nSt. _Augustin_'s Bay at _Madagascar_, and there cleaned and victualled;\nbut tarrying there somewhat too long, the Winds hung contrary, and they\ncould not for their Lives beat up to _Mayotta_, and therefore went to\n_Johanna_, where, hearing that their Friends had lately left that\nIsland, they steered for the _Red Sea_, but the Wind not proving fair\nfor their Design, they bore away for the High Land of St. _John_'s, near\n_Surrat_, where they once more fell in Company with their Brethren of\nthe _Prosperous_.\nThey cruiz'd together, as was first agreed on, and after some Time they\nhad Sight of four Ships, to whom they gave Chace; but these separating,\ntwo standing to Northward, and two to the Southward, the Pyrates\nseparated likewise, _Bowen_ standing after those that steered Southerly,\nand _Howard_ crowded after the others. _Bowen_ came up with the heaviest\nof the two, which proved to be a _Moorish_ Ship of 700 Tun, bound from\nthe Gulph of _Mocha_ to _Surat_. The Pyrates brought the Prize into\n_Rajapora_, on the Coast of _India_, where they plundered her; the\nMerchandize they sold to the Natives, but a small Sum of current Gold\nthey found aboard, amounting to 22,000 _l._ _English_ Money, they put\ninto their Pockets. Two Days after the _Prosperous_ came in, but without\nany Prize; however, they soon made their Friends acquainted that they\nhad not succeeded worse than themselves, for at _Surat_ River's Mouth,\nwhere all the four Ships were bound, they came up with their Chace; and\nwith a Broadside, one of them struck, but the other got into the Bay.\nThey stood down the Coast with the Prize till they had plundered her of\nthe best of her Cargoe, the most valuable of which was 84,000\n_Chequins_, a Piece of about ten Shillings each, and then they left her\nadrift, without either Anchor or Cable, off _Daman_.\nWhile they were lying at _Rajapora_ they past a Survey on their\nShipping, and judging their own to be less serviceable than their Prize,\nthey voted them to the Flames, and straightway fitted up the _Surat_\nShip; they transported both Companies aboard of her, and then set Fire\nto the _Prosperous_ and _Speedy Return_. They mustered at this Place 164\nfighting Men, 43 only were _English_, the greater Number _French_, the\nrest _Danes_, _Swedes_ and _Dutch_; they took aboard 70 _Indians_ to do\nthe Drudgery of the Ship, and mounted 56 Guns, calling her the\n_Defiance_, and sailed from _Rajapora_ the latter End of _October_, in\nthe Year 1703, to cruize on the Coast of _Mallabar_:\nBut not meeting with Prey in this first Cruise, they came to an Anchor\nabout three Leagues to the Northward of _Cochen_, expecting some Boats\nto come off with Supplies of Refreshments, for which Purpose they fired\nseveral Guns, by way of Signal, but none appearing, the Quarter-Master\nwas sent in the Pinnace to confer with the People, which he did with\nsome Caution, keeping the Boat upon their Oars at the Shore-Side: In\nshort, they agreed very well, the Pyrates were promised whatever\nNecessaries they wanted, and the Boat returned aboard.\nThe next Day a Boat came off from the Town with Hogs, Goats, Wine, _&c._\nwith a private Intimation from _Malpa_, the _Dutch_ Broker, an old\nFriend of the Pyrates, that a Ship of that Country called the _Rim\u00e6_,\nlay then in _Mudbay_, not many Leagues off, and if they would go out and\ntake her, he would purchase the Cargo of them, and likewise promised\nthat they should be further supplied with Pitch, Tar, and all other\nNecessaries, which was made good to them; for People from the Factory\nflocked aboard every Hour, and dealt with them as in open Market, for\nall Sorts of Merchandize, Refreshments, Jewels and Plate, returning with\nCoffers of Money, _&c._ to a great Value.\nThe Advice of the Ship was taken very kindly, but the Pyrates judging\ntheir own Ship too large to go close into the Bay, consulted their\nFriend upon Means for taking the said Ship, who readily treated with\nthem for the Sale of one of less Burthen that lay then in the Harbour;\nbut _Malpa_ speaking to one _Punt_ of the Factory to carry her out, he\nnot only refused to be concerned in such a Piece of Villainy, but\nreproved _Malpa_ for corresponding with the Pyrates, and told him, if he\nshould be guilty of so base an Action, he must never see the Face of any\nof his Countrymen more; which made the honest Broker change both his\nCountenance and his Purpose.\nAt this Place Captain _Woolley_, whom they had taken for their Pilot on\nthe _India_ Coast, being in a very sick and weak Condition, was, at his\nearnest Intreaty, discharged from his severe Confinement among them, and\nset ashore, and the next Day the Pyrates sailed, and ranged along the\n_Mallabar_ Coast, in quest of more Booty. In their Way they met a second\ntime with the _Pembroke_, and plundered her of some Sugar, and other\nsmall Things, and let her go again. From the Coast they sail'd back for\nthe Island of _Mauritius_, where they lay some Time, and lived after\ntheir usual extravagant Manner.\nAt _Mauritius_ two of the Crew, _viz._ _Israel Phipeny_ and _Peter\nFreeland_, left the Pyrates and concealed themselves in the Island till\nthe Ship sailed. These two Men were part of _Drummond_'s Crew, who found\nan Opportunity of coming to _England_ soon after on board the _Raper_\nGalley, and arrived at _Portsmouth_ in _March_ 1725. When this came to\nbe known, Mr. _John Green_, Brother to Capt. _Green_, then under\nSentence, went thither and got the Affidavits of the said _Phipeny_ and\n_Freeland_, made before the Mayor of _Portsmouth_, containing several\nMatters herein mentioned, which Affidavits were immediately brought to\n_London_, and by the Secretary of State sent away Express to _Scotland_,\nwhich arrived there some Hours before Capt. _Green_ was executed.\nWe are now going to give an Account of one whose Name is better known in\n_England_, than most of those whose Histories we have already related;\nthe Person we mean is Captain _Kid_, whose publick Trial and Execution\nhere, rendered him the Subject of all Conversation, so that his Actions\nhave been chanted about in Ballads; however, it is now a considerable\nTime since these Things passed, and though the People knew in general\nthat Captain _Kid_ was hanged, and that his Crime was Pyracy, yet there\nwere scarce any, even at that Time, who were acquainted with his Life or\nActions, or could account for his turning Pyrate.\nIn the Beginning of King _William_'s War, Captain _Kid_ commanded a\nPrivateer in the _West-Indies_, and by several adventurous Actions\nacquired the Reputation of a brave Man, as well as an experienced\nSeaman. About this Time the Pyrates were very troublesome in those\nParts, wherefore Captain _Kid_ was recommended by the Lord _Bellamont_,\nthen Governor of _Barbadoes_, as well as by several other Persons, to\nthe Government here, as a Person very fit to be entrusted with the\nCommand of a Government Ship, and to be employed in cruising upon the\nPyrates, as knowing those Seas perfectly well, and being acquainted with\nall their lurking Places; but what Reasons governed the Politicks of\nthose Times, I cannot tell, but this Proposal met with no Encouragement\nhere, though it is certain it would have been of great Consequence to\nthe Subject, our Merchants suffering incredible Damages by those\nRobbers.\nUpon this Neglect the Lord _Bellamont_ and some others, who knew what\ngreat Captures had been made by the Pyrates, and what a prodigious\nWealth must be in their Possession, were tempted to fit out a Ship at\ntheir own private Charge, and to give the Command of it to Captain\n_Kid_; and, to give the Thing a greater Reputation, as well as to keep\ntheir Seamen under the better Command, they procured the King's\nCommission for the said Captain _Kid_, of which the following is an\nexact Copy.\n_William Rex_,\n_'William_ the Third, by the Grace of God, King of _England_,\n_Scotland_, _France_ and _Ireland_, Defender of the Faith, _&c._ To our\ntrusty and well beloved Captain _William Kid_, Commander of the Ship the\n_Adventure_ Gally, or to any other the Commander of the same for the\nTime being, GREETING; Whereas we are informed, that Captain _Thomas\nToo_, _John Ireland_, Captain _Thomas Wake_, and Captain _William Maze_,\nor _Mace_, and other Subjects, Natives or Inhabitants of _New-York_, and\nelsewhere, in our Plantations in _America_, have associated themselves,\nwith divers others, wicked and ill disposed Persons, and do, against the\nLaw of Nations, commit many and great Pyracies, Robberies and\nDepredations on the Seas upon the Parts of _America_, and in other\nParts, to the great Hinderance and Discouragement of Trade and\nNavigation, and to the great Danger and Hurt of our loving Subjects, our\nAllies, and all others, navigating the Seas upon their lawful Occasions.\nNow KNOW YE, that we being desirous to prevent the aforesaid Mischiefs,\nand, as much as in us lies, to bring the said Pyrates, Free Booters and\nSea Rovers to Justice, have thought fit, and do hereby give and grant to\nthe said _William Kid_ (to whom our Commissioners for exercising the\nOffice of Lord High Admiral of _England_, have granted a Commission as a\nprivate Man of War, bearing Date the 11th Day of _December_ 1695), and\nunto the Commander of the said Ship for the Time being, and unto the\nOfficers, Mariners, and others, which shall be under your Command, full\nPower and Authority to apprehend, sieze, and take into your Custody as\nwell the said Captain _Thomas Too_, _John Ireland_, Captain _Thomas\nWake_, and Captain _William Maze_, or _Mace_, as all such Pyrates, Free\nBooters and Sea Rovers, being either our Subjects, or of other Nations\nassociated with them, which you shall meet with upon the Seas, or Coasts\nof _America_, or upon any other Seas or Coasts, with all their Ships and\nVessels; and all such Merchandizes, Money, Goods and Wares as shall be\nfound on Board, or with them, in Case they shall willingly yield\nthemselves; but if they will not yield without fighting, then you are by\nForce to compel them to yield. And we do also require you to bring, or\ncause to be brought, such Pyrates, Free Booters, or Sea Rovers, as you\nshall seize, to a legal Tryal, to the End they may be proceeded against\naccording to the Law in such Cases. And we do hereby command all our\nOfficers, Ministers, and other our loving Subjects whatsover, to be\naiding and assisting to you in the Premisses. And we do hereby enjoin\nyou to keep an exact Journal of your Proceedings in the Execution of the\nPremisses, and set down the Names of such Pyrates, and of their Officers\nand Company, and the Names of such Ships and Vessels as you shall by\nVertue of these Presents take and seize, and the Quantities of Arms,\nAmmunition, Provision and Lading of such Ships, and the true Value of\nthe same, as near as you judge. And we do hereby strictly charge and\ncommand you as you will answer the contrary at your Peril, that you do\nnot, in any Manner, offend or molest our Friends or Allies, their Ships,\nor Subjects, by Colour or Pretence of these Presents, or the Authority\nthereby granted. In Witness whereof we have caused our Great Seal of\n_England_ to be affix'd to these Presents. Given at our Court of\n_Kensington_, the 26th Day of _January_ 1695, in the seventh Year of our\nReign.'\nCaptain _Kid_ had also another Commission, which was called a Commission\nof Reprisals; for it being then War Time, this Commission was to justify\nhim in the taking of _French_ Merchant Ships, in Case he should meet\nwith any; but as this Commission is nothing to our present Purpose, we\nshall not burthen the Readers with it.\nWith these two Commissions he sail'd out of _Plymouth_ in _May_ 1696, in\nthe _Adventure_ Gally of thirty Guns, and eighty Men; the Place he first\ndesign'd for was _New-York_; in his Voyage thither he took a _French_\nBanker, but this was no Act of Pyracy, he having a Commission for that\nPurpose, as we have just observ'd.\nWhen he arrived at _New York_ he put up Articles for engaging more\nHands, it being necessary to his Ships Crew, since he proposed to deal\nwith a desperate Enemy: The Terms he offered were, that every Man should\nhave a Share of what was taken, reserving for himself and Owners forty\nShares. Upon which Encouragement he soon increas'd his Company to a\nhundred and fifty five Men.\nWith this Company he sail'd first for _Maderas_, where he took in Wine\nand some other Necessaries; from thence he proceeded to _Bonavist_, one\nof the _Cape de Verd Islands_, to furnish the Ship with Salt, and from\nthence went immediately to St. _Jago_, another of the _Cape de Verd\nIslands_, in order to stock himself with Provisions. When all this was\ndone, he bent his Course to _Madagascar_, the known Rendezvouz of\nPyrates; in his Way he fell in with Captain _Warren_, Commadore of three\nMen of War; he acquainted them with his Design, kept them Company two or\nthree Days, and then leaving them, made the best Way for _Madagascar_,\nwhere he arrived in _February_ 1696, just nine Months from his Departure\nfrom _Plymouth_.\nIt happen'd that at this Time the Pyrate Ships were most of them out in\nsearch of Prey; so that according to the best Intelligence Captain _Kid_\ncould get, there was not one of them at that Time about the Island,\nwherefore having spent some Time in watering his Ship, and taking in\nmore Provisions, he thought of trying his Fortune on the Coast of\n_Malabar_, where he arrived in the Month of _June_ following, four\nMonths from his reaching _Madagascar_. Hereabouts he made an\nunsuccessful Cruize, touching sometimes at the Island of _Mahala_,\nsometimes at that of _Joanna_, betwixt _Malabar_ and _Madagascar_: His\nProvisions were every Day wasting, and his Ship began to want Repair;\nwherefore, when he was at _Joanna_, he found Means of borrowing a Sum of\nMoney from some _French_ Men who had lost their Ship, but saved their\nEffects, and with this he purchas'd Materials for putting his Ship in\ngood Repair.\nIt does not appear all this while that he had the least Design of\nturning Pyrate; for near _Mahala_ and _Joanna_ both, he met with several\n_Indian_ Ships richly laden, to which he did not offer the least\nViolence, tho' he was strong enough to have done what he pleas'd with\nthem; and the first Outrage or Depredation I find he committed upon\nMankind, was after his repairing his Ship, and leaving _Joanna_; he\ntouch'd at a Place call'd _Mabbee_, upon the _Red Sea_, where he took\nsome _Guinnea_ Corn from the Natives, by Force.\nAfter this he sail'd to _Bab_'s _Key_, a Place upon a little Island at\nthe Entrance of the _Red Sea_; here it was that he first began to open\nhimself to his Ship's Company, and let them understand that he intended\nto change his Measures; for, happening to talk of the _Moca_ Fleet which\nwas to sail that Way, he said, _We have been unsuccessful hitherto, but\nCourage, my Boys, we'll make our Fortunes out of this Fleet_: And\nfinding that none of them appear'd averse to it, he order'd a Boat out,\nwell mann'd, to go upon the Coast to make Discoveries, commanding them\nto take a Prisoner and bring to him, or get Intelligence any Way they\ncould. The Boat return'd in a few Days, bringing him Word, that they saw\nfourteen or fifteen Ships ready to sail, some with _English_, some with\n_Dutch_, and some with _Moorish_ Colours.\nWe cannot account for this sudden Change in his Conduct, otherwise than\nby supposing that he first meant well, while he had Hopes of making his\nFortune by taking of Pyrates; but now, weary of ill Success, and fearing\nleast his Owners, out of Humour at their great Expences, should dismiss\nhim, and he should want Employment, and be mark'd out for an unlucky\nMan; rather, I say, than run the Hazard of Poverty, he resolved to do\nhis Business one Way, since he could not do it another.\nHe therefore order'd a Man continually to watch at the Mast Head, least\nthis Fleet should go by them; and about four Days after, towards\nEvening, it appear'd in Sight, being convoy'd by one _English_ and one\n_Dutch_ Man of War. _Kid_ soon fell in with them, and getting into the\nmidst of them, fir'd at a _Moorish_ Ship which was next him; but the Men\nof War taking the Alarm, bore down upon _Kid_, and firing upon him,\nobliged him to sheer off, he not being strong enough to contend with\nthem. Now he had begun Hostilities, he resolv'd to go on, and therefore\nhe went and cruis'd along the Coast of _Malabar_; the first Prize he met\nwas a small Vessel belonging to _Aden_, the Vessel was _Moorish_, and\nthe Owners were _Moorish_ Merchants, but the Master was an _English_\nMan, his Name was _Parker_. _Kid_ forc'd him and a _Portugueze_ that was\ncall'd _Don Antonio_, which were all the _Europeans_ on Board, to take\non with them; the first he design'd as a Pilot, and the last as an\nInterpreter. He also used the Men very cruelly, causing them to be\nhoisted up by the Arms, and drubb'd with a naked Cutlash, to force them\nto discover whether they had Money on Board, and where it lay; but as\nthey had neither Gold nor Silver on Board, he got nothing by his\nCruelty; however, he took from them a Bale of Pepper, and a Bale of\nCoffee, and so let them go.\nA little Time after he touch'd at _Carawar_, a Place upon the same\nCoast, where, before he arrived, the News of what he had done to the\n_Moorish_ Ship had reach'd them; for some of the _English_ Merchants\nthere had received an Account of it from the Owners, who corresponded\nwith them; wherefore, as soon as _Kid_ came in, he was suspected to be\nthe Person who committed this Pyracy; and one Mr. _Harvey_ and Mr.\n_Mason_, two of the _English_ Factory, came on Board and ask'd for\n_Parker_, and _Antonio_ the _Portuguese_; but _Kid_ deny'd that he knew\nany such Persons, having secur'd them both in a private Place in the\nHold, where they were kept for seven or eight Days, that is, till _Kid_\nsail'd from thence.\nHowever, the Coast was alarm'd, and a _Portuguese_ Man of War was sent\nout to cruize: _Kid_ met with her, and fought her about six Hours,\ngallantly enough; but finding her too strong to be taken, he quitted\nher; for he was able to run away from her when he would: Then he went to\na Place call'd _Porco_, where he water'd the Ship, and bought a Number\nof Hogs of the Natives to victual his Company.\nSoon after this, he came up with a _Moorish_ Ship, the Master whereof\nwas a _Dutch_ Man, call'd _Schipper Mitchel_, and chased her under\n_French_ Colours, which they observing, hoisted _French_ Colours too:\nWhen he came up with her, he hail'd her in _French_, and they having a\n_French_ Man on Board, answer'd him in the same Language; upon which he\norder'd them to send their Boat on Board; they were oblig'd to do so,\nand having examin'd who they were, and from whence they came; he ask'd\nthe _French_ Man, who was a Passenger, if he had a _French_ Pass for\nhimself? The _French_ Man gave him to understand that he had. Then he\ntold the _French_ Man he must pass for Captain, and by G-d, says he, you\nare the Captain: The _French_ Man durst not refuse doing as he would\nhave him: The Meaning of this was, that he would seize the Ship as fair\nPrize, and as if she had belong'd to _French_ Subjects, according to a\nCommission he had for that Purpose; tho', one would think, after what he\nhad already done, that he need not have Recourse to a Quibble to give\nhis Actions a Colour.\nIn short, he took the Cargoe and sold it some Time after; yet still he\nseem'd to have some Fears upon him least these Proceedings should have a\nbad End; for, coming up with a _Dutch_ Ship some Time, when his Men\nthought of nothing but attacking her, _Kid_ oppos'd it; upon which a\nMutiny arose, and the Majority being for taking the said Ship, and\narming themselves to Man the Boat to go and seize her, he told them,\nsuch as did, never should come on Board him again; which put an End to\nthe Design, so that he kept Company with the said Ship some Time,\nwithout offering her any Violence: However, this Dispute was the\nOccasion of an Accident, upon which an Indictment was afterwards\ngrounded against _Kid_; for _Moor_, the Gunner, being one Day upon Deck,\nand talking with _Kid_ about the said _Dutch_ Ship, some Words arose\nbetwixt them, and _Moor_ told _Kid_, that he had ruin'd them all; upon\nwhich, _Kid_, calling him Dog, took up a Bucket and struck him with it,\nwhich breaking his Skull, he died the next Day.\nBut _Kid_'s penitential Fit did not last long, for coasting along\n_Malabar_, he met with a great Number of Boats, all which he plunder'd.\nUpon the same Coast he also light upon a _Portuguese_ Ship, which he\nkept Possession of a Week, and then having taken out of her some Chests\nof _India_ Goods, thirty Jars of Butter, with some Wax, Iron, and a\nhundred Bags of Rice, he let her go.\nMuch about the same Time he went to one of the _Malabar_ Islands for\nWood and Water, and his Cooper being ashore, was murder'd by the\nNatives; upon which _Kid_ himself landed, and burnt and pillaged several\nof their Houses, the People running away; but having taken one, he\ncaused him to be tied to a Tree, and commanded one of his Men to shoot\nhim; then putting to Sea again he took the greatest Prize, which fell\ninto his Hands, while he followed this Trade; this was a _Moorish_ Ship\nof 400 Tons richly laden, named the _Queda_ Merchant, the Master whereof\nwas an _English_ Man, he was call'd _Wright_, for the _Indians_ often\nmake Use of _English_ or _Dutch_ Men to command their Ships, their own\nMariners not being so good Artists in Navigation.--_Kid_ chased her\nunder _French_ Colours, and having come up with her, he ordered her to\nhoist out her Boat, and to send on Board of him, which being done, he\ntold _Wright_ he was his Prisoner; and informing himself concerning the\nsaid Ship, he understood there were no _Europeans_ on Board, except two\n_Dutch_, and one _Frenchman_, all the Rest being _Indians_ or\n_Armenians_, and that the _Armenians_ were Part Owners of the Cargoe.\n_Kid_ gave the _Armenians_ to understand, that if they would offer any\nThing that was worth his taking for their Ransome, he would hearken to\nit: Upon which, they proposed to pay him twenty thousand Rupees, not\nquite three thousand Pounds Sterling; but _Kid_ judged this would be\nmaking a bad Bargain, wherefore he rejected it, and setting the Crew on\nShore, at different Places on the Coast, he soon sold as much of the\nCargoe as came to near ten thousand Pounds. With Part of it he also\ntrafficked, receiving in Exchange Provisions, or such other Goods as he\nwanted; by Degrees he disposed of the whole Cargoe, and when the\nDivision was made, it came to about two hundred Pounds a Man, and having\nreserved forty Shares to himself, his Dividend amounted to about eight\nthousand Pounds Sterling.\nThe _Indians_ along the Coast came on Board and traffick'd with all\nFreedom, and he punctually performed his Bargains, till about the Time\nhe was ready to sail; and then thinking he should have no further\nOccasion for them, he made no Scruple of taking their Goods, and setting\nthem on Shore without any Payment in Money or Goods, which they little\nexpected; for as they had been used to deal with Pyrates, they always\nfound them Men of Honour in the Way of Trade: A People, Enemies to\nDeceit, and that scorn'd to rob but in their own Way.\n_Kid_ put some of his Men on Board the _Queda_ Merchant, and with this\nShip and his own sail'd for _Madagascar_; as soon as he was arrived and\nhad cast Anchor, there came on Board of him a Canoe, in which were\nseveral _Englishmen_, who had formerly been well acquainted with _Kid_;\nas soon as they saw him they saluted him, and told him, they were\ninformed he was come to take them, and hang them, which would be a\nlittle unkind in such an old Acquaintance; _Kid_ soon dissipated their\nDoubts, by swearing he had no such Design, and that he was now in every\nRespect their Brother, and just as bad as they; and calling for a Cup of\nBomboo, drank their Captain's Health.\nThese Men belong'd to a Pyrate Ship, call'd the _Resolution_, formerly\nthe _Mocco_ Merchant, whereof one Captain _Culliford_ was Commander, and\nwhich lay at an Anchor not far from them; _Kid_ went on Board with them,\npromising them his Friendship and Assistance, and _Culliford_ in his\nTurn came on Board of _Kid_; and _Kid_ to testify his Sincerity in\nIniquity, finding _Culliford_ in want of some Necessaries, made him a\nPresent of an Anchor and some Guns, to fit him out for the Sea again.\nThe _Adventure_ Galley was now so old and leaky, that they were forced\nto keep two Pumps continually going, wherefore _Kid_ shifted all the\nGuns and Tackle out of her into the _Queda_ Merchant, intending her for\nhis Man of War; and as he had divided the Money before, he now made a\nDivision of the Remainder of the Cargo: Soon after which, the greatest\nPart of the Company left him, some going on Board Captain _Culliford_,\nand others absconding in the Country, so that he had not above forty Men\nleft.\nHe put to Sea and happened to touch at _Amboyna_, one of the _Dutch_\nSpice Islands, where he was told, that the News of his Actions had\nreach'd _England_, and that he was there declared a Pyrate.\nThe Truth on't is, his Pyracies so alarmed our Merchants, that some\nMotions were made in Parliament, to enquire into the Commission that was\ngiven him, and the Persons who fitted him out: These Proceedings seem'd\nto lean a little hard upon the Lord _Bellamont_, who thought himself so\nmuch touch'd thereby, that he published a Justification of himself in a\nPamphlet after _Kid_'s Execution. In the mean Time, it was thought\nadviseable, in order to stop the Course of these Pyracies, to publish a\nProclamation, offering the King's free Pardon to all such Pyrates as\nshould voluntarily surrender themselves, whatever Pyracies they had been\nguilty of at any Time, before the last Day of _April_, 1699.--That is to\nsay, for all Pyracies committed Eastward of the _Cape_ of _Good Hope_,\nto the Longitude and Meridian of _Socatora_, and _Cape Camorin_. In\nwhich Proclamation, _Avery_ and _Kid_ were excepted by Name.\nWhen _Kid_ left _Amboyna_ he knew nothing of this Proclamation, for\ncertainly had he had Notice of his being excepted in it, he would not\nhave been so infatuated, to run himself into the very Jaws of Danger;\nbut relying upon his Interest with the Lord _Bellamont_, and fancying,\nthat a _French_ Pass or two he found on Board some of the Ships he took,\nwould serve to countenance the Matter, and that Part of the Booty he got\nwould gain him new Friends.--I say, all these Things made him flatter\nhimself that all would be hushed, and that Justice would but wink at\nhim.--Wherefore he sail'd directly for _New-York_, where he was no\nsooner arrived, but by the Lord _Bellamont_'s Orders, he was secured\nwith all his Papers and Effects. Many of his Fellow-Adventurers who had\nforsook him at _Madagascar_, came over from thence Passengers, some to\n_New England_ and some to _Jersey_; where hearing of the King's\nProclamation for pardoning of Pyrates, they surrendered themselves to\nthe Governor of those Places: At first they were admitted to Bail, but\nsoon after were laid in strict Confinement where they were kept for some\ntime, till an Opportunity happened of sending them with their Captain\nover to _England_ to be tried.\nAccordingly a Sessions of Admiralty being held at the _Old Baily_, in\n_May_ 1701, Captain _Kid_, _Nicholas Churchill_, _James How_, _Robert\nLumley_, _William Jenkins_, _Gabriel Loff_, _Hugh Parrot_, _Richard\nBarlicorn_, _Abel Owens_, and _Darby Mullins_, were arraign'd for Pyracy\nand Robbery on the High Seas, and all found guilty, except three; these\nwere _Robert Lumley_, _William Jenkins_, and _Richard Barlicorne_, who\nproving themselves to be Apprentices to some of the Officers of the\nShip, and producing their Indentures in Court, were acquitted.\nThe three above-mentioned, tho' they were proved to be concern'd in\ntaking and sharing the Ship and Goods mentioned in the Indictment, yet,\nas the Gentlemen of the long Robe rightly distinguished, there was a\ngreat Difference between their Circumstances and the rest; for there\nmust go an Intention of the Mind and a Freedom of the Will to the\ncommitting an Act of Felony or Pyracy. A Pyrate is not to be understood\nto be under Constraint, but a free Agent; for in this Case, the bare Act\nwill not make a Man guilty, unless the Will make it so.\nNow a Servant, it is true, if he go voluntarily and have his Proportion,\nhe must be accounted a Pyrate, for then he acts upon his own Account,\nand not by Compulsion; and these Persons, according to the Evidence,\nreceived their Part, but whether they accounted to their Masters for\ntheir Shares afterwards, is the Matter in Question, and what\ndistinguishes them as free Agents or Men, that did go under the\nCompulsion of their Masters, which being left to the Consideration of\nthe Jury, they found them Not Guilty.\n_Kid_ was tryed upon an Indictment of Murder also, _viz._ for killing\n_Moor_ the Gunner, and found guilty of the same. _Nicholas Churchill_\nand _James How_ pleaded the King's Pardon, as having surrendered\nthemselves within the Time limited in the Proclamation, and Colonel\n_Bass_, Governor of _West Jersey_, to whom they surrendered, being in\nCourt, and called upon, proved the same; however, this Plea was\nover-ruled by the Court, because there being four Commissioners named in\nthe Proclamation, _viz._ Captain _Thomas Warren_, _Israel Hayes_, _Peter\nDelannoye_, and _Christopher Pollard_, Esqrs; who were appointed\nCommissioners, and sent over on Purpose to receive the Submissions of\nsuch Pyrates as should surrender, it was adjudged no other Person was\nqualified to receive their Surrender, and that they could not be\nintitled to the Benefit of the said Proclamation, because they had not\nin all Circumstances complied with the Conditions of it.\n_Darby Mullins_ urg'd in his Defence, that he serv'd under the King's\nCommission, and therefore could not disobey his Commander without\nincurring great Punishments; that whenever a Ship or Ships went out upon\nany Expedition under the King's Commissioners, the Men were never\nallowed to call their Officers to an Account, why they did this, or, why\nthey did that, because such a Liberty would destroy all Discipline; that\nif any Thing was done which was unlawful, the Officers were to answer\nit, for the Men did no more than their Duty in obeying Orders. He was\ntold by the Court, that acting under the Commission justified in what\nwas lawful, but not in what was unlawful; he answered, he stood in Need\nof nothing to justify him in what was lawful, but that the Case of\nSeamen must be very hard, if they must be brought into such Danger for\nobeying the Commands of their Officers, and punished for not obeying\nthem; and if they were allowed to dispute the Orders, there could be no\nsuch Thing as Command kept up at Sea.\nThis seem'd to be the best Defence the Thing could bear; but his taking\na Share of the Plunder, the Seamens mutinying on Board several Times,\nand taking upon them to controul the Captain, shewed there was no\nObedience paid to the Commission; and that they acted in all Things\naccording to the Custom of Pyrates and Free-booters, which weighing with\nthe Jury, they brought him in guilty with the rest.\nAs to Capt. _Kid_'s Defence, he insisted much upon his own Innocence,\nand the Villany of his Men; he said, he went out in a laudable\nEmployment, and had no Occasion, being then in good Circumstances, to go\na Pyrating; that the Men often mutinied against him, and did as they\npleas'd; that he was threatened to be shot in his Cabin, and that Ninety\nfive left him at one Time, and set Fire to his Boat, so that he was\ndisabled from bringing his Ship home, or the Prizes he took, to have\nthem regularly condemn'd, which he said were taken by Virtue of a\nCommission under the Broad Seal, they having _French_ Passes.--The\nCaptain called one Col. _Hewson_ to his Reputation, who gave him an\nextraordinary Character, and declared to the Court, that he had served\nunder his Command, and been in two Engagements with him against the\n_French_, in which he fought as well as any Man he ever saw; that there\nwere only _Kid_'s Ship and his own against Monsieur _du Cass_, who\ncommanded a Squadron of six Sail, and they got the better of him.--But\nthis being several Years before the Facts mentioned in the Indictment\nwere committed, prov'd of no manner of Service to the Prisoner on his\nTryal.\nAs to the Friendship shewn to _Culliford_, a notorious Pyrate, _Kid_\ndeny'd, and said, he intended to have taken him, but his Men being a\nParcel of Rogues and Villains refused to stand by him, and several of\nthem ran away from his Ship to the said Pyrate.--But the Evidence being\nfull and particular against him, he was found guilty as before\nmentioned.\nWhen _Kid_ was asked what he had to say why Sentence should not pass\nagainst him, he answered, That _he had nothing to say, but that he had\nbeen sworn against by perjured wicked People_. And when Sentence was\npronounced, he said, _My Lord, it is a very hard Sentence. For my Part,\nI am the innocentest Person of them all, only I have been sworn against\nby perjured Persons._\nWherefore about a Week after, Capt. _Kid_, _Nicholas Churchill_, _James\nHow_, _Gabriel Loff_, _Hugh Parrot_, _Abel Owen_, and _Darby Mullins_,\nwere executed at _Execution Dock_, and afterwards hung up in Chains, at\nsome Distance from each other, down the River, where their Bodies hung\nexposed for many Years.\nBefore I enter on the Adventures of this Pyrate, I must take Notice to\nthe Reader of the Reasons which made me not continue the Life of\n_Misson_.\nIn reading the Notes, which I have by me, relating to Captain _Tew_, I\nfound him join'd with _Misson_; and that I must either be guilty of\nRepetition, or give an Account of _Tew_ in _Misson_'s Life, which is\ncontrary to the Method I propos'd, that of giving a distinct Relation of\nevery Pyrate who has made any Figure: And surely _Tew_, in Point of\nGallantry, was inferior to none, and may justly claim a particular\nAccount of his Actions.\nHowever, before I enter on the Life of this Pyrate, I shall continue\nthat of _Misson_ to the Time that these two Commanders met.\nThe Blacks seeing them so much upon their Guard, brought out boiled Rice\nand Fowls, and after they had satisfied their Hunger, the Chief made\nSigns that they were the same who had carried a Negroe to their Ships,\nand sent for the Ax and Piece of Baze they had given him: While this\npass'd, the very Negroe came from hunting, who seem'd overjoy'd to see\nthem. The Chief made Signs that they might return, and ten Negroes\ncoming to them laden with Fowls and Kids; he gave them to understand,\nthey should accompany them to their Ships with these Presents.\nThey parted very amicably, and in hopes of settling a good\nCorrespondence with these Natives; all the Houses were neatly framed and\njointed, not built from any Foundation, but so made, that half a dozen\nMen could lift and transport them from Place to Place; and sometimes a\nwhole Village shall be in Motion, which would be an odd Sight in\n_Europe_, and surprizing to see Houses moving. The Hunters returning to\ntheir Ships, with these Presents and Negroes, were joyfully received;\nand the Negroes not only caressed, but laden with Baze, Iron Kettles,\nand Rum, besides the Present of a Cutlash for the Chief.\nWhile the Negroes stay'd, which was the Space of three Days, they\nexamined and admired the Forts and growing Town, in which all Hands were\nbusied, and not even the Prisoners excused.\nAs Monsieur _Misson_ apprehended no Danger from the Land, his Fort (tho'\nof Wood) being, he thought, a sufficient Defence to his infant Colony;\nhe took a hundred and sixty Hands, and went a second Time on the Coast\nof _Zanguebor_, and off _Quiloa_ he gave Chase to a large Ship, which\nlay by for him: She prov'd an over-match for the _Victoire_, which\nengag'd her, with great Loss of Men, near eight Glasses; but finding he\nwas more likely to be took, than to make a Prize, by the Advice of his\nOfficers and Men, endeavour'd to leave the _Portuguese_, which was a 50\nGun Ship, and had 300 Men on Board; but he found this Attempt vain, for\nthe _Portuguese_ went as well as the _Victoire_, and the Commander was a\nresolute and brave Man, who, seeing him endeavour to shake him off,\nclapp'd him on Board, but lost most of the Men he enter'd. _Misson_'s\nCrew not used to be attack'd, and expecting no Quarter, fought so\ndesperately, that they not thoroly clear'd their Decks, but some of them\nfollow'd the _Portuguese_, who leap'd into their own Ship; which\n_Misson_ seeing, hop'd to make an Advantage of their Despair, and crying\nout, _Elle est a nous, a l'abordage_. She's our own, board, board her,\nso many of his Men followed the few, that hardly were there enough left\nto work the Ship; _Misson_ observing this Resolution in his Men,\ngrappled the _Portuguese_ Ship, and leap'd himself on Board, crying out,\n_la Mort, ou la Victoire_, Death or Victory. The _Portuguese_, who\nthought themselves in a manner Conquerors, seeing the Enemy not only\ndrive off those who enter'd them, but board with that Resolution, began\nto quit the Decks in Spight of their Officers: The Captain and _Misson_\nmet, as he was endeavouring to hinder the Flight of his Men; they\nengaged with equal Bravery with their Cutlashes; but _Misson_ striking\nhim on the Neck, he fell down the main Hatch, which put an End to the\nFight, for the _Portuguese_ seeing their Captain fall, threw down their\nArms, and call'd for Quarters, which was granted; and all the Prisoners\nwithout Distinction being order'd between Decks, and the Powder-Room\nsecured, he put 35 Men on Board the Prize, and made the best of his Way\nfor _Libertatia_. This was the dearest Prize he ever made, for he lost\nfifty six Men: She was vastly rich in Gold, having near 200,000 l.\nSterling on Board, being her own and the Cargo of her Companion, which\nwas lost upon the Coast, of whose Crew she had saved 100 Men out of 120,\nthe rest being lost, by endeavouring to swim ashore; whereas had their\nFear suffer'd them to have staid, there had not been a Soul lost, the\nTide of Ebb leaving their Ship dry: This was the Reason that the Prize\nwas so well mann'd, and proved so considerable.\nBeing within Sight of _Madagascar_, they spied a Sloop which stood for\nthem, and when in Gun-Shot, threw out black Colours, and fired a Gun to\nWindward; _Misson_ brought to, fired another to Leeward, and hoisted out\nhis Boat, which the Sloop perceiving, lay by for. _Misson_'s Lieutenant\nwent on Board, and was received very civilly by Captain _Tew_, who was\nthe Commander, to whom the Lieutenant gave a short Account of their\nAdventures and new Settlement, inviting him very kindly on Board Captain\n_Misson_. _Tew_ told him, he could not consent to go with him till he\nhad the Opinion of his Men; in the mean while _Misson_, coming\nalong-side, hal'd the Sloop, and invited the Captain on Board, desiring\nhis Lieutenant would stay as an Hostage, if they were in the least\njealous of him; which they had no Reason to be, since he was of Force so\nmuch superior, that he need not employ Stratagem. This determined the\nCompany on Board the Sloop, who advised their Captain to go with the\nLieutenant, whom they would not suffer to stay behind, to shew the\ngreater Confidence in their new Friends.\nMy Reader may be surprized that a single Sloop should venture to give\nChase to two Ships of such Countenance as were the _Victoire_ and her\nPrize: But this Wonder will cease, when he is acquainted with the\nSequel.\nCaptain _Tew_ after being handsomely regal'd on Board the _Victoire_,\nand thoroughly satisfied, returned on Board his Sloop, gave an Account\nof what he had learned, and his Men consenting, he gave Orders to steer\nthe same Course with _Misson_, whose Settlement it was agreed to visit.\nI shall here leave them to give an Account of Captain _Tew_.\nMr. _Richier_, Governor of _Bermudas_, fitted out two Sloops on the\nPrivateer Account, commanded by Captain _George Drew_, and Captain\n_Thomas Tew_, with Instructions to make the best of their Way to the\nRiver _Gambia_ in _Africa_, and there, with the Advice and Assistance of\nthe Agent for the Royal _African_ Company, to attempt the taking the\n_French_ Factory of _Goorie_ on that Coast.\nThe above Commanders having their Commissions and Instructions from the\nGovernor, took their Departure from _Bermudas_, and kept Company some\nTime; but _Drew_ springing his Mast, and a violent Storm coming upon\nthem, they lost each other.\n_Tew_ being separated from his Consort, thought of providing for his\nfuture case, by making one bold Push; and accordingly, calling all Hands\non Deck, he spoke to them to this Purpose.\n'That they were not ignorant of the Design with which the Governor\nfitted them out; the taking and destroying the _French_ Factory; that\nhe, indeed, readily agreed to take a Commission to this end, tho'\ncontrary to his Judgment, because it was being employ'd; but that he\nthought it a very injudicious Expedition, which did they succeed in,\nwould be of no Use to the Publick, and only advantage a private Company\nof Men, from whom they could expect no Reward of their Bravery; that he\ncould see nothing but Danger in the Undertaking, without the least\nProspect of a Booty; that he could not suppose any Man fond of fighting,\nfor fighting-sake; and few ventured their Lives, but with some View\neither of particular Interest or publick Good; but here was not the\nleast Appearance of either. Wherefore, he was of Opinion, that they\nshould turn their Thoughts on what might better their Circumstances; and\nif they were so inclined, he would undertake to shape a Course which\nshould lead them to Ease and Plenty, in which they might pass the rest\nof their Days. That one bold Push would do their Business, and they\nmight return home, not only without Danger, but even with Reputation.'\nThe Crew finding he expected their Resolution, cry'd out, one and all,\n_A gold Chain, or a wooden Leg_, we'll stand by you.\nHearing this, he desired they would chuse a Quarter Master, who might\nconsult with him for the Common Good; which was accordingly done.\nI must acquaint the Reader, that on Board the _West-India_ Privateers\nand Free-booters, the Quarter Master's Opinion is like the Mufti's among\nthe _Turk_'s; the Captain can undertake nothing which the Quarter Master\ndoes not approve. We may say, the Quarter Master is an humble Imitation\nof the _Roman_ Tribune of the People; he speaks for, and looks after the\nInterest of the Crew.\n_Tew_ now, instead of his proceeding on his Voyage to _Gambia_, shaped\nhis Course for the Cape of _Good Hope_, which doubling, he steered for\nthe Streights of _Babel Mandel_, entring into the _Red Sea_, where they\ncame up with a tall Ship bound from the _Indies_ to _Arabia_; she was\nrichly laden, and as she was to clear the Coasts of Rovers, five more,\nextreamly rich (one especially in Gold) being to follow her, she had 300\nSoldiers on Board, beside her Seamen.\n_Tew_, on making this Ship, told his Men she carried their Fortunes,\nwhich they would find no Difficulty to take Possession of; for though he\nwas satisfied she was full of Men, and was mounted with a great Number\nof Guns, they wanted the two Things necessary, Skill and Courage; and,\nindeed, so it proved, for he boarded and carried her without Loss, every\none taking more Care to run from the Danger, than to exert himself in\nthe Defence of his Goods.\nIn rummaging this Prize, the Pyrates threw over a great many rich Bales,\nto search for Gold, Silver, and Jewels; and, having taken what they\nthought proper, together with the Powder, part of which (as being more\nthan they could handsomely stow) they threw into the Sea; they left her,\nsharing 3000 l. Sterling a Man.\nEncouraged by this Success, Captain _Tew_ proprosed the going in quest\nof the other five Ships, of which he had Intelligence from the Prize;\nbut the Quarter-Master opposing him, he was obliged to drop the Design,\nand steer for _Madagascar_.\nHere the Quarter Master finding this Island productive of all the\nNecessaries of Life; that the Air was wholesome, the Soil fruitful, and\nthe Sea abounding with Fish, proposed settling; but only three and\ntwenty of the Crew came into the Proposal: The rest staid with Captain\n_Tew_, who having given the new Settlers their Share of Plunder,\ndesigned to return to _America_, as they afterwards did; but spying the\n_Victoire_ and her Prize, he thought he might, by their Means, return\nsomewhat richer, and resolved to speak with them, as I have already\nsaid.\n_Tew_ and his Company having taken the above Resolution of visiting\nMons. _Misson_'s Colony, arrived with him, and was not a little\nsurprized to see his Fortifications.\nWhen they came under the first Fort, they saluted it with nine Guns, and\nthey were answered with an equal Number; all the Prisoners, at their\ncoming to an Anchor, were suffer'd to come up, a Privilege they had\nnever before granted them, on account of the few Hands left them, except\ntwo or three at a time.\nThe Joy those ashore expressed at the Sight of so considerable a Prize\nas they judged her at first Sight, was vastly allay'd, when they heard\nhow dear a Purchase she had prov'd to them; however, the Reinforcement\nof the Sloop made some amends; Captain _Tew_ was received by\n_Caraccioli_ and the rest, with great Civility and Respect, who did not\na little admire his Courage, both in attacking the Prize he made, and\nafterwards in giving Chase to _Misson_; he was called to the Council of\nOfficers, which was immediately held, to consider what Methods should be\ntaken with the Prisoners, who were, by 190 brought in by this new Prize,\nnear as numerous as those of his own Party, though _Tew_ join them with\n70 Men; it was therefore resolved to keep them separate from the\n_Portuguese_ and _English_, who were before taken, to make them believe\nthey were in Amity with a Prince of the Natives, who was very powerful,\nand to propose to them, at their Choice, the assisting the new Colony in\ntheir Works, or the being sent Prisoners up the Country, if they\nrejected the entering with them. Seventy three took on, and the rest\ndesired they might be any way employ'd, rather than be sent up the\nCountry; 117 then were set to Work upon a Dock, which was laid out about\nhalf a Mile above the Mouth of the Harbour, and the other Prisoners were\nforbid to pass such Bounds as were prescribed them on Pain of Death;\nlest they, knowing their own Strength, should revolt; for I must\nacquaint the Reader, that on the Arrival of the _Victoire_, both their\nLoss and the Number of _Portuguese_ they brought in, was known to none\nbut themselves, and the Number of those who came over, magnified;\nbesides, the _Johanna_ Men were all arm'd and disciplin'd, and the\n_Bijoux_ laid a Guardship, where the last Prisoners were set to Work;\nbut while they provided for their Security, both within and without,\nthey did not neglect providing also for their Support, for they dug and\nsow'd a large Plat of Ground with _Indian_ and _European_ Corn, and\nother Seeds which they had found on Board their Prizes. In the mean\nwhile _Caraccioli_, who had the Art of Perswasion, wrought on many of\nthe _Portuguese_, who saw no Hopes of returning home, to join them.\n_Misson_, who could not be easy in an inactive Life, would have taken\nanother Cruize; but fearing the Revolt of the Prisoners, durst not\nweaken his Colony by the Hands he must necessarily take with him:\nWherefore, he propos'd giving the last Prize to, and sending away the\nPrisoners. _Carracioli_ and Captain _Tew_ were against it, saying, that\nit would discover their Retreat, and cause their being attacked by the\n_Europeans_, who had Settlements along the Continent, before they were\nable to defend themselves. _Misson_ reply'd, he could not bear to be\nalways diffident of those about him; that it was better die once, than\nlive in continual Apprehensions of Death. That the Time was come for the\nsending away the _Johanna_ Men, and that they could not go without a\nShip, neither durst he trust a Ship out, not well mann'd, nor man her\nwhile so many Prisoners were with him. Wherefore there was a Necessity\nof sending them off, or of putting them all to the Sword. A Barbarity by\nwhich he would not purchase his Security. A Council was called, and what\nCaptain _Misson_ had proposed, agreed to. The Prisoners were then\nsummon'd and he told them, in few Words, that he knew the Consequence of\ngiving them Liberty; that he expected to be attacked as soon as the\nPlace of his Retreat was known, and had it in his Hands, by putting them\nto Death to avoid the doubtful Fate of War; but his Humanity would not\nsuffer him to entertain a Thought so cruel, and his Alliances with the\nNatives, he hoped, would enable him to repel his Assailants; but he\nrequired an Oath of every one, that he should not serve against him: He\nthen enquired into the Circumstances of every particular Man, and what\nthey had lost, all which he return'd, telling the Company it should be\nreckoned as Part of his Share, and the Prisoners, that he did not make\nWar with the Oppressed, but the Oppressors. The Prisoners were charm'd\nwith this Mark of Generosity and Humanity, and wished he might never\nmeet a Treatment unworthy of that he gave them. The Ship being\nvictualled for a Voyage to the Coast of _Zanguebar_, all her Guns and\nAmmunitions taken out, with the spare Sails, and spare Rigging, all were\nordered to be gone, and 137 departed, highly applauding the Behaviour of\ntheir Enemies. All this while they had heard nothing from the Natives,\nnor had the hunting Parties met with any of them, which made _Misson_\nsuspect they were afraid of his being their Neighbour, and had shifted\ntheir Quarters; but as the _Johanna_ Men were upon going away, there\ncame about 50 Negroes to them, driving about 100 Head of black Cattle,\n20 Negroe Men bound, and 25 Women, for which Cattle and Prisoners they\nbarter'd Rum, Hatchets, Baze and Beads; some Hogsheads of which last\nCommodity they had taken on the Coast of _Angola_. Here the Negroes\nbelonging to _Misson_ were provided with Wives: The Natives were\ncaress'd, and to the Slaves Signs made that their Liberty was given\nthem, they were immediately cloathed and put under the Care of as many\nWhites, who, by all possible Demonstrations, endeavoured to make them\nunderstand that they were Enemies to Slavery. The Natives staid ten\nDays, which retarded the Departure of the _Johanna_ Men; but, upon their\nretiring, the _Bijoux_ sailed with 100 of them on Board, under the\ncommand of _Caraccioli_'s Lieutenant, who excused the keeping them a\nMonth longer than was promised, and not bringing them at once, having no\nmore than two Ships. The _Portuguese_ Ship, which was unrigg'd, being\nmade a Hulk, the ten Men of _Misson_'s Company who had settled at\n_Johanna_, being desirous to return, were brought to _Libertatia_ with\ntheir Wives (of which they had two and three a piece) and their\nChildren, the _Bijoux_, at two more Voyages, carried over the rest of\nthe _Johannians_.\n_Misson_ hove down the _Bijoux_, and resolving on a Cruise on the Coast\nof _Guiney_, to strengthen his Colony by the Capture of some slaving\nShip, he gave the Command of her to Captain _Tew_, and he and\n_Caraccioli_ press'd the Work of the Dock; he gave him also 200 Hands,\nof which 40 were _Portuguese_, 37 Negroes, 17 of them expert Sailors, 30\n_English_, and the rest _French_. _Tew_ met with nothing in his Way till\nhe came to the Northward of the Cape of _Good Hope_, when he fell in\nwith a _Dutch East-India_ Galley of 18 Guns, which he took after a small\nResistance, and with the Loss of one Man only; on the Coast of _Angola_\nhe took an _English_ Man with 240 Slaves, Men, Women, and Boys. The\nNegroes, who had before been taken on this Coast, found among these a\ngreat many of their Acquaintance, and several of their Relations, to\nwhom they reported their happy and unexpected change of Fortune, the\ngreat Captain (for so they now called _Misson_) humanly having knocked\noff their Chains, and of Slaves made them free Men, and Sharers in his\nFortunes. That the same good Fortune had attended them in their falling\ninto his Hands, for he abhorr'd even the Name of Slavery. _Tew_\nfollowing the Orders, and acquainted with the Policy of _Misson_,\norder'd their Fetters and Handcuffs to be taken off, upon his Negroe\nSailors, assuring him they would not revolt, and were sensible of their\nHappiness in falling into his Hands. Content with these Prizes, he made\nthe best of his Way home to _Libertatia_, where he arrived without any\nsinister Accident; but I forgot to tell my Reader, that he set his\n_Dutch_ Prisoners (nine excepted, who took on with him) ashore, about 30\nMiles to the Northward of the Cape, in _Soldinia_ Bay, where had been\nburied, by Captain _Misson_, the _English_ Commander; he found a great\nQuantity of _English_ Crowns on Board his _Dutch_ Prize, which were\ncarried into the common Treasury, Money being of no Use where every\nThing was in common, and no Hedge bounded any particular Man's Property.\nThe Slaves he had released in this last Cruize were employ'd in the\nperfecting the Dock, and treated on the Foot of free People. They were\nnot ignorant of the Change of their Condition, and were therefore\nextreamly diligent and faithful. A White Man, or one of the old standing\nNegroes, wrought with every four, and made them understand the _French_\nWords (by often Repetition, and the Help of their Country Mens\ninterpreting) used in their Works. _Misson_ ordered a couple of Sloops\nto be built in a Creek, of 80 Tun each, which he mounted with 8 Guns a\npiece, out of the _Dutch_ Prize. These were perfected in a little Time,\nand proved not only shapely Vessels, but excellent Sailors. The Officers\nof these Sloops were chosen by ballotting, and as their first Design was\nonly to discover and lay down a Chart of the Coast, Sands, Shoals, and\nDepths of Water round the Island of _Madagascar_; The School Master\nbeing sent for that Reason with the Command of one, _Tew_ desired, and\nhad the other. They were mann'd, each Sloop with 50 Whites and 50 black\nMen. Which Voyage round the Island was of vast Advantage in giving the\nnew released _Angola_ Negroes a Notion of the working a Vessel; and they\nwere very industrious both in endeavouring to learn the _French_\nLanguage, and to be useful. These Sloops, the one of which was called\nthe _Childhood_, and the other the _Liberty_, were near four Months on\nthis Expedition; in the mean while a few of the Natives had come often\nto the Settlement, and they began to speak a little broken _French_,\nmix'd with the other _European_ Languages, which they heard among\n_Misson_'s People, and six of the native Families fixed among them,\nwhich was of vast Use to the Planters of this new Colony; for they made\na very advantageous Report to their Country Men of the Regularity and\nHarmony they observed in them. The Sloops being return'd, and an exact\nChart taken of the Coast, _Carraccioli_ had a mind for a Cruize; he\nproposed the visiting all the neighbouring Islands, accordingly he went\nout to _Mascarenas_, and the other Islands near it, taking one half of\nhis Crew of Negroes, and return'd with a _Dutch_ Prize, which he took\noff the abovementioned Island, where they were about fixing a Colony.\nThis Prize, as it had on Board all Sorts of _European_ Goods, and\nNecessaries for settling, was more valuable than if it had been vastly\nricher. The Negroes growing useful Hands, _Misson_ resolved on a Cruize\nto the Northward, encouraged by _Tew_'s Success; and, with all the\nBlacks, which he divided between the two Ships, one of which Captain\n_Tew_ commanded, set out with 500 Men: Off the Coast of _Arabia Foelix_,\nthey fell in with a Ship belonging to the _Great Mogul_, bound for\n_Zidon_, with Pilgrims to _Mecca_, who, with _Moor_ Mariners, made up\nthe Number of 1600 Souls. This Ship carried 110 Guns, but made a very\npoor Defence, being encumber'd with the Goods and Number of Passengers\nthey carried. The two Adventurers did not think it their Business to\ncannonade, they therefore boarded as soon as they came up with her, and\nthe _Moors_ no sooner saw them enter'd, but they discharged one Volley\nof small Arms at Random, we may suppose, because no Execution was done,\nand fled the Decks. Being Masters of this Ship, which did not cost them\na single Man, they consulted what they should do with her, and the\nPrisoners, and it was resolved to set them ashore between _Ain_ and\n_Aden_; but as they wanted Women, to keep all the unmarried, and to\nnavigate the Ship to _Libertatia_; as the Guns might be of Use to them;\nand, by letting her go, or sinking, they might lose, perhaps, a\nconsiderable Booty, which the _Moors_, might have hid in her Cielings or\nBallast.\nThis Resolution was put in Execution, and they brought off 100 Girls,\nfrom 12 to 18 Years old, who designed to make the Pilgrimage with their\nParents. The Lamentations this Separation caused among the Prisoners,\nhad such Effect on _Misson_, that he was for letting them go, but every\none of his Men were against him. They now made the best of their Way for\n_Madagascar_, putting 200 Hands on board the Prize, which proved a very\nheavy Sailer, and retarded them very much. Off the Cape _Guarde Fin_\nthey were overtaken with a cruel Storm, which was very near wrecking\nthem on the Island called _Irmanos_; but the Wind coming about due\nNorth, they had the good Luck to escape this Danger. Though the Fury of\nthe Wind abated, yet it blew so hard for 12 Days together, that they\ncould only carry their Courses reef'd. They spy'd a Sail in their\nPassage, but the Weather would not permit their endeavouring to speak\nwith her. In a Word, they return'd to _Libertatia_ with their Prize,\nwithout any other Accident, but the Captors could make no Estimate of\nher Value, she having on Board a vast Quantity of Diamonds, besides rich\nSilks, raw Silks, Spices, Carpets, and wrought and bar Gold. The Prize\nwas taken to pieces, as she was of no Use; her Cordage and knee Timber\npreserv'd, with all the Bolts, Eyes, Chains, and other Iron Work, and\nher Guns planted on two Points of the Harbour, where they raised\nBatteries, so that they were now so strongly fortified they apprehended\nno Danger from any Number of Shipping which could be brought into those\nSeas to attack them. They had, by this Time, clear'd, sown, and enclosed\na good Parcel of Ground, and taken in a Quantity of Pasturage, where\nthey had above 300 Head of black Cattle, bought of the Natives. The Dock\nwas now finish'd, and the _Victoire_ growing old and unfit for a long\nVoyage, and the last Storm having shook and loosened her very much, she\nwas pull'd to pieces and rebuilt, keeping the same Name. She was rigg'd,\nvictuall'd, and fit to go to Sea, and was to sail to the Coast of\n_Guinea_ for more Negroes, when one of the Sloops came in, which had\nbeen sent out rather to exercise the Negroes, than with any View of\nmaking a Prize, and brought Word five tall Ships chac'd her into the\nBay, and stood for their Harbour; that she judg'd them to be\n_Portuguese_ by their Built, and 50 Gun Ships, full of Men. This prov'd\nthe real Truth. The Alarm was given, the Forts and Batteries mann'd, and\nevery Man stood to his Arms. _Misson_ took upon him the Command of 100\nNegroes, who were well disciplin'd, (for every Morning they had been\nused to perform their Exercise, which was taught them by a _French_\nSerjeant, one of their Company, who belong'd to the _Victoire_) to be\nready where his Assistance should be requir'd. _Tew_ commanded all the\n_English_. They had hardly order'd their Affairs when these Ships hove\nin Sight, and stood directly for the Harbour with _Portuguese_ Colours.\nThey were warmly received by the two Forts, which did not stop them,\nthough it brought one of them on the Careen; they enter'd the Harbour,\nand thought they had done their Business, but were saluted so warmly\nfrom the Forts and Batteries, Sloops and Ships, that two of them sunk\ndownright, and a great many Men were drowned, though some got on Board\nthe other Ships. The _Portuguese_, who did not imagine they had been so\nwell fortified, and thought in passing the two Forts they should,\nwithout Difficulty, land their Men, and easily root out this Nest of\nPyrates, found now their Mistake, for they durst not venture to hoist\nout a Boat. They had wisely, however, contriv'd to enter just before the\nTurn of the Tide. Finding the Attempt vain, and that they lost a great\nmany Men, they clapp'd upon a Wind, and with the Help of the Tide of\nEbb, made more Haste out than they did to get in, leaving two of their\nShips sunk in the Harbour; but they did not get off so cheaply, for no\nsooner were they clear of the Forts, but _Misson_ manning, with the\nutmost Expedition, both the Ships and the Sloops, he gave them Chase,\nand engag'd them at the Mouth of the Bay. The _Portuguese_ defended\nthemselves with a great deal of Gallantry, and one of them put off the\n_Libertatians_ twice, who boarded them from the two Sloops; two of them,\nfinding themselves hard press'd, made a running Fight, and got off, and\nleft the third to shift as well as he could. The _Bijoux_ and _Victoire_\nfinding the _Portuguese_ endeavour'd to clear themselves, and knowing\nthere was little to be got by the Captures, gave over the Chase, and\nfell upon the third, who defended himself till his Decks swam with\nBlood, and the greater Number of his Men killed; but finding all\nResistance vain, and that he was left to an unequal Fight by his\nCompanions, he called for Quarter, and good Quarter was given, both to\nhimself and Men. This Prize yielded them a great Quantity of Powder and\nShot, and, indeed, they expected nothing of Value out of her. None of\nthe Prisoners were stripp'd, and the Officers, _Misson_, _Caraccioli_\nand _Tew_, invited to their Tables, treating them very civilly, and\nextolling the Courage they had shewn in their Defence. Unhappily two\nPrisoners were found on Board, who had been released, and had sworn\nnever to serve against them; these were clapp'd in Irons, and publickly\ntried for their Perjury. The _Portuguese_ Officers being present, the\nWitnesses proved them the very discharged Men, and they were condemned\nto be hanged at the Point of each Fort; which Execution was performed\nthe next Morning after their Condemnation, with the Assistance of the\n_Portuguese_ Chaplain, who attended, confess'd and absolv'd them. This\nwas the Engagement with the Pyrates, which made so much Noise in the\n_Lisbon_ Gazette, and these the Men whom the _English_ ignorantly took\nfor _Avery_; who, we had a Notion here in _London_, had 32 Sail of Men\nof War, and had taken upon him the State and Title of King, a Mistake we\nhave already spoken to in the first Volume.\nThis Execution seeming to impugn the Maxims of the Chiefs, _Caraccioli_\nmade an Harangue, in which he told them, that there was no Rule could be\nlaid down which did not allow Exceptions: That they were all sensible\nhow tender the Commadore, Monsieur _Misson_, was in shedding of Blood;\nand that it was a Tenet of his Faith, that none had Power over the Life\nof another, but God alone, who gave it; but notwithstanding,\nSelf-Preservation sometimes made it absolutely necessary to take away\nthe Life of another, especially an avow'd and an obliged Enemy, even in\ncool Blood. As to the Blood shed in a lawful War, in Defence of that\nLiberty they had generously asserted, it was needless to say any Thing,\nbut thought it proper to lay before them Reasons for the Execution of\nthe Criminals, and the Heinousness of their Crimes. They had not only\nreceived their Lives from the Bounty of the _Libertatians_, but their\nLiberty, and had every Thing restored them which they laid claim to,\nconsequently their Ingratitude rose in Proportion to the generous\nTreatment they had met with. That, indeed, both he and Captain _Misson_\nwould have passed by the Perjury and Ingratitude they had been guilty\nof, with a corporal Punishment, which had not extended to the\nDeprivation of Life, but their gallant Friend and Companion the\n_English_ Commander, Captain _Tew_, used such cogent Reasons for an\nexemplary Punishment, to deter others from the like Crimes, that they\nmust have been Enemies to their own Preservation in not following his\nAdvice. That the Lives of their whole Body ought to be preferr'd to\nthose of declared and perjured Enemies, who would not cease to endeavour\ntheir Ruin; and, as they were well acquainted with their Settlement,\nmight be fatal Instruments of it, if they were again restored to that\nLiberty which they had already abused. That he was obliged to do Captain\n_Tew_ the Justice, to acknowledge he was inclined to the Side of Mercy,\ntill he was thoroughly informed of the Blackness of their Ingratitude,\nand then he thought it would be Cruelty to themselves to let those\nMiscreants experience a second Time their Clemency; thus an absolute\nNecessity had obliged them to act contrary to their declar'd Principles;\ntho', to state the Case rightly, these Men, not the _Libertatians_, were\nthe Authors of their own Deaths: Here the Assembly crying out, _their\nBlood is on their own Heads, they sought their Deaths, and hanging was\ntoo good for them_; _Caraccioli_ gave over, and every one returned\nsatisfied to his private or the publick Affairs.\nSome Differences arising between _Misson_'s and _Tew_'s Men, on a\nnational Quarrel, which the latter began; Captain _Tew_ proposed their\ndeciding the Quarrel by the Sword, but _Caraccioli_ was entirely against\nit, alledging, that such a Decision must necessarily be a Damage to the\nPublick, since the brave Men who fell, would be a weakening of their\nColony; he therefore desired Captain _Tew_ to interpose the Authority he\nhad over his Crew, as he and _Misson_ would endeavour to bring their Men\nto an amicable Agreement; and for the future, as this Accident proved\nthe Necessity, wholesome Laws should be made, and a Form of Government\nentered upon, both Parties were call'd, and _Caraccioli_ shew'd them the\nNecessity of their living in Unity among themselves, who had the whole\nWorld for Enemies; and as he had a perswasive and insinuating Way of\nArgument, with the Assistance of Captain _Tew_, this Affair was ended to\nthe Satisfaction of both Parties.\nThe next Day the whole Colony was assembled, and the three Commanders\npropos'd a Form of Government, being taken up, as necessary to their\nConservation; for where there were no coercive Laws, the weakest would\nalways be the Sufferers, and every Thing must tend to Confusion: That\nMens Passions blinding them to Justice, and making them ever partial to\nthemselves, they ought to submit the Differences which might arise to\ncalm and disinterested Persons, who could examine with Temper, and\ndetermine according to Reason and Equity: That they look'd upon a\nDemocratical Form, where the People were themselves the Makers and\nJudges of their own Laws, the most agreeable; and therefore, desired\nthey would divide themselves into Companies of ten Men, and every such\nCompany chuse one to assist in the settling a Form of Government, and in\nmaking wholesome Laws for the Good of the whole: That the Treasure and\nCattle they were Masters of should be equally divided, and such Lands as\nany particular Man would enclose, should, for the future, be deem'd his\nProperty, which no other should lay any Claim to, if not alienated by a\nSale.\nThe Proposal was received with Applause, and they decimated themselves\nthat very Day, but put off the meeting of the States till a House was\nbuilt, which they set about very chearfully, and finish'd in about a\nFortnight; it being of framed Timber, and they having among them a great\nmany who understood the handling an Ax.\nWhen this Body of Politicians met, _Caraccioli_ open'd the Sessions with\na handsome Speech, shewing the Advantage flowing from Order; and then\nspoke to the Necessity of lodging a supream Power in the Hands of one,\nwho should have that of rewarding brave and vertuous Actions, and of\npunishing the vicious, according to the Laws which the State should\nmake; by which, he was to be guided. That such a Power however should\nnot be for Life, nor hereditary, but determinate at the end of three\nYears, when a new Choice should be made by the State, or the Old\nconfirm'd for three Years longer; by which means, the ablest Men would\nalways be at the Head of Affairs, and their Power being of short\nDuration, none would dare to abuse it: That such a Chief should have the\nTitle of Lord Conservator, and all the Ensigns of Royalty to attend him.\nThis was approv'd _Nemine contradicente_, and _Misson_ was chose\nConservator, with Power to create great Officers, _&c._ and with the\nTitle of Supream Excellence.\nThen a Law was made for the meeting of the State once every Year at\nleast, but oftner, if the Conservator and his Council thought it\nnecessary for the common Good to convene them; and that nothing of\nMoment should be undertaken without the Approbation of the State.\nIn a Word, their first Sessions lasted ten Days; and a great many\nwholesome Laws were enacted, register'd in the State-Book, printed and\ndispers'd (for they had some Printers and Letter Founders among them)\nand then the Conservator dissolved them.\nCaptain _Tew_, the Conservator, honoured with the Title of Admiral, and\n_Caraccioli_ made Secretary of State; he chose a Council of the ablest\namong them, without Distinction of Nation or Colour; and the different\nLanguages began to be incorporated, and one made out of the many: An\nequal Division was made of their Treasure and Cattle, and every one\nbegan either to inclose Land for himself or his Neighbour, who would\nhire his Assistance.\nAdmiral _Tew_ propos'd the building an Arsenal, and augmenting their\nNaval Force; the first was agreed to be propos'd to the State at the\nnext Convention, but the latter was thought unnecessary, till the Number\nof Inhabitants was augmented; for should they all be employed in the Sea\nService, the Husbandry would be neglected, which would be of fatal\nConsequence to the growing Colony.\nThe Admiral then proposed the fetching in those _Englishmen_ who had\nfollowed the Quarter Master; but the Council rejected this, alledging,\nthat as they deserted their Captain, it was a Mark of a mutinous Temper,\nand they might infect others with a Spirit of Disorder; that however,\nthey might have Notice given them of the Settlement, and if they made it\ntheir earnest Intreaty to be admitted, and would desert the\nQuarter-Master, it should be granted as a particular Favour done them,\nat the instance of the Admiral, and upon his engaging his Parole of\nHonour for their quiet Behaviour.\nThe Admiral then desired he might take a Cruize; that he hop'd to meet\nwith some _East-India_ Ships, and bring in some Voluntiers, for the\nNumber of Subjects being the Riches of a Nation, he thought the Colony\nstood more in need of Men, than of any Thing else; that he would lie in\nthe Way of the Cape, and did not question doing good Service; and as he\nwent to the Northward, would call upon his own Men.\nThe _Victoire_ was according to the Admiral's Desire fitted out, and in\nfew Days he sail'd with 300 Men on board; he came to an Anchor at the\nSettlement his Men had made, and hoisted an _English_ Ensign in his Fore\nShrouds, and fir'd a Gun; but after he had waited some Time, perceiving\nno Signal from the Shore, he landed and sent back his Boat; soon after\nthe Boat was returned towards the Ship, two of his Men came up to him,\nto whom he gave an Account of _Misson_'s Settlement: They invited him\ninto the Wood to see that of theirs, and to advise with their\nCompanions, about the propos'd Migration. The Governor, _ali\u00e0s_\nQuarter-Master, received him mighty civilly, but told him, that he could\nsee no Advantage to themselves in changing their present Situation, tho'\nthey might prove a great One to the new Colony, by adding to their Force\nso many brave Fellows: That they there enjoy'd all the Necessaries of\nLife; were free and independent of all the World; and it would be\nMadness again to subject themselves to any Government, which, however\nmild, still exerted some Power. That he was Governor for three Months,\nby the Choice of his Companions; but his Power extended no farther than\nto the judging in Matters of small Difference which might arise, which\nhe hop'd to do impartially while his Authority continued; that they had\nagreed among themselves, and confirm'd that Agreement by Oath, to\nsupport the Decrees of the Governor for the Time, that their\nTranquillity might not be disturb'd by the capricious Humour of any one\nMan; and that this Power of determining, was to devolve at the\nExpiration of three Months, to him on whom the Lot should fall by\nballoting, provided he had not before enjoyed the Honour, for such a one\nwas not to draw; by which Agreement, every one would be raised, in Time,\nto the supream Command, which prevented all canvassing and making\nInterest for Votes, as when it determined by Suffrage; left no Open for\nmaking Divisions and Parties, and was a Means to continue to them that\nRepose inseparable from a Unity among themselves. However, continu'd he,\nif you will go to _America_ or _Europe_, and shew the Advantages which\nmay accrue to the _English_, by fixing a Colony here, out of that Love\nwe bear our Country, and to wipe away the odious Appellation of Pyrates,\nwith Pleasure we'll submit to any who shall come with a Commission from\na lawful Government; but 'tis ridiculous to think we will become\nSubjects to greater Rogues than our selves; and that you may know what\nto say on this Head, if you think it expedient to follow my Advice, take\nwith you some few Thoughts, which I have couch'd in Writing, and which\nI'll fetch you; he went into his Cabbin, for, tho' the Governor's, it\ndid not deserve the Name of a House, brought out some written Papers,\nand gave them him.\nCaptain _Tew_ finding the Quarter-Master spoke the Sentiments of his\nCompanions, took Leave, and returned to his Ship.\nWhen the Captain was in his Cabbin, he read the Quarter-Master's Papers,\nwhich, as the Contents of them may oblige the curious, I shall set down.\nThis Island of _Madagascar_ affords all the Necessaries of Life, and\nyields to none either in the Wholesomeness of the Air, or Fruitfulness\nof the Soil: The Seas around it are well stor'd with Fish, the Woods\nwith Fowl, and the Intrails of the Earth are enrich'd with Mines of\nexcellent Iron, as I have learn'd from some Natives, by their having\nArms of that Metal; and, doubtless there are here both Gold and Silver\nMines in the Mountains.\nThe Soil will produce Sugar, Cotton, Indigo, and other Growths of our\n_American_ Colonies, at a far inferior Expence, as I will make plain, by\ncomparing the Charge of erecting a Mill, _&c._ in _Barbadoes_, with what\nit would be here.\nA Windmill in _Barbadoes_ will cost 100 l. all Materials and Labour\nbeing very dear; but here Wood and Stone may be had for Labour only; so\nthat with Artificers, and the needful Iron and Copper Work brought from\n_Europe_, a Sugar Work may be set up for very little Money.\nNegroes in _Barbadoes_ are at 30, 40, 50 l. _per_ Head; and I dare\nanswer 10 s. in _European_ Goods, will purchase a Negroe Slave at\n_Madagascar_, since we have purchas'd for an old Coat, a lusty Fellow.\nFood is very dear at _Barbadoes_, and here you may feed a Slave, as well\nas your self without Expence; consequently he will do more Work than a\n_Barbadoes_ Slave, who is, by the Dearness of Provision, half-starved.\nTho' a Cattle Mill is of less Expence in _Barbadoes_, yet the feeding of\nHorses and Oxen at _Barbadoes_ is very dear.\nBut, to proceed to other Advantages, all Sorts of medicinal and dying\nWoods may be carried from hence to _Europe_; and your Woods for fine\nWorks, as Iron, Wood, Cedar, Mahogony, _&c._ are here in great\nAbundance.\nIf a Colony, with a lawful Power, were settled here, no doubt, but many\nof the Commodities which we fetch from the _Indies_ might be made here,\nas Silk, Cotton, _&c._ the Soil being proper for their Production.\nThe Natives are, or seem to be, very human; and they have such Plenty of\nblack Cattle, that we have bought an Ox of 800 lb. Weight, for a Pair of\nBreeches.\nBesides, a Settlement here would be a Curb on Pyrates, and a Protection,\nas well as a great Conveniency to our _East India_ Ships, who might here\nbe stored with fresh or salt Provisions, and consequently not be obliged\nto carry with them so great a Quantity as they now do, and save a great\nDeal of Money to the Company in their Victualling.\nCaptain _Tew_ went on Shore again in the Evening, the Wind not serving\nto weigh, it blowing due _West_; he asked the Governor, how he got\nacquainted with the Natives? and he answered, by meeting them a Hunting,\nand using them well; that he wheedled one of them down to their Huts,\nthe Fellow being alone, and they three in Company, he suppos'd, thought\nit best to go with seeming Willingness. After him several came, and they\nliv'd very friendly with them: The Captain had brought ashore with him\nsome Rum and Brandy, and they were drinking a Bowl of Punch, when, on a\nsudden, a violent Storm arose; Captain _Tew_ ran to the Shore, and made\na Signal for his Boat to carry him off, but the Sea ran too high to\nventure out of the Ship: The Storm all the while increas'd, and the\n_Victoire_, in less than two Hours, parted her Cables, was drove ashore\nwhere it was steep to, and perished, with all her Men, in Captain\n_Tew_'s Sight.\nThe Captain staid with his old Companions, without knowing which Way to\nreturn to his Friends he had left with _Misson_, not one of whom was\n(luckily for them,) on board the Ship. At the End of three Months, as\nfar as they could discover a Hutt, they saw a large Ship, which _Tew_\nbelieved was the _Bijoux_; but she took no Notice of the Fires they\nmade: As he expected she would return after a short Cruize, he, and his\nCompanions, made large Fires every Night on the Shore, and visited the\nCoast very often. About a Month after this, as they came early to the\nSea-Side, they were surpriz'd at the Sight of two Sloops which lay at an\nAnchor, about a Canon Shot from the Shore; they had not been long\nlooking upon them, when a Canoe was hoisted out of One, and made to\nthem, with six Men who row'd, and one Sitter.\n_Tew_ soon knew him to be Captain _Misson_; he came ashore, and\nembracing the former, told him, all their propos'd Happiness was\nvanished; for without the least Provocation given, in the Dead of the\nNight, the Natives came down upon them in two great Bodies, and made a\ngreat Slaughter, without Distinction of Age or Sex, before they could\nput themselves in a Posture of Defence; that _Caraccioli_ (who died in\nthe Action) and he got what Men together they could, to make a Stand;\nbut finding all Resistance vain against such Numbers, he made a Shift to\nsecure a considerable Quantity of rough Diamonds and Bar Gold, and to\nget on board the two Sloops with 45 Men: That the _Bijoux_ being gone to\ncruize, and the Number of Men he had carried with him in the _Victoire_,\nweaken'd the Colony, and given the Natives the Boldness to attack them\nas they did, but for what Reason he could not imagine.\n_Tew_ gave him an Account of the Disaster which had happen'd; and after\nhaving mutually condol'd their Misfortunes, _Tew_ propos'd their going\nto _America_, where _Misson_ might, with the Riches he had, pass his\nLife unknown, and in a comfortable Manner.\n_Misson_ answer'd he could not yet take any Resolution, tho' he had\nThoughts of returning to _Europe_, and privately visiting his Family, if\nany where alive, and then to retire from the World.\nThey dined with the Quarter-Master, who press'd their Return to\n_America_, to procure a Commission for the settling a Colony.\n_Misson_ told _Tew_, he should have one of the Sloops, and what\nVolunteers would keep him Company, for his Misfortunes had erased all\nThoughts of future Settlements; that what Riches they had saved, he\nwould distribute equally, nay, he would be content, if he had only a\nbare Support left him.\nOn this Answer, four of the Quarter-Master's Company offer'd to join\nCaptain _Tew_.\nIn the Afternoon they visited both Sloops, and _Misson_ putting the\nQuestion to the Men, thirty went on board of one Sloop, tho' they parted\nwith great Reluctance from their old Commander; and fifteen staid with\n_Misson_. The four Men who join'd _Tew_ made the Number of his Crew 34;\nthey staid about a Week, in hopes of the _Bijoux_'s Return upon the\nCoast; but she not appearing, they set sail, Captain _Misson_ having\nfirst shared the Treasure, with _Tew_ and his other Friends and\nCompanions, hoping to meet the _Bijoux_ on the _Guiney_ Coast, for which\nthey shaped their Course.\nOff Cape _Infantes_, they were over-taken with a Storm, in which the\nunhappy _Misson_'s Sloop went down, within a Musket Shot of Captain\n_Tew_, who could give him no Assistance.\n_Tew_ continued his Course for _America_, and arrived at _Rhode Island_\nwithout any Accident; his Men dispersed themselves, as they thought fit,\nand _Tew_ sent to _Bermudas_ for his Owners Account fourteen Times the\nValue of their Sloop, and not being questioned by any, liv'd in great\nTranquillity; the _French_ belonging to _Misson_, took different Routs,\none of whom dying at _Rochelle_, the _French_ Manuscript of _Misson_'s\nLife was found among his Papers, and transmitted to me by a Friend and\nCorrespondent.\nCaptain _Tew_ lived unquestion'd, _&c._ he had an easy Fortune, and\ndesigned to live quietly at home; but those of his Men, who lived near\nhim, having squandered their Shares, were continually solliciting him to\ntake another Trip: He withstood their Request a considerable Time; but\nthey having got together (by the Report they made of the vast Riches to\nbe acquired) a Number of resolute Fellows, they, in a Body, begg'd him\nto head them but for one Voyage. They were so earnest in their Desire,\nthat he could not refuse complying. They prepared a small Sloop, and\nmade the best of their Way to the _Streights_, entering the _Red Sea_,\nwhere they met with, and attack'd a Ship belonging to the Great _Mogul_;\nin the Engagement, a Shot carried away the Rim of _Tew_'s Belly, who\nheld his Bowels with his Hands some small Space; when he dropp'd, it\nstruck such a Terror in his Men, that they suffered themselves to be\ntaken, without making Resistance.\n_John Halsey_ was a _Boston_ Man, of _New England_, commanded the\n_Charles_ Brigantine, and went out with a Commission from the Governor,\nto cruize on the Banks of _Newfoundland_, where he took a _French_\nBanker, which he appointed to meet him at _Fyal_; but missing his Prize\nhere, he went among the _Canary_ Islands, where he took a _Spanish\nBarcalonga_, which he plundered and sunk; from thence he went to the\nIsland of _Bravo_, one of the _Cape de Verd_, where he wooded and\nwatered, turn'd ashore his Lieutenant, and several of his Men here\nrunning away from him, the Governor sent them on board again, his\nCommission being as yet in Force; from hence he stood away then to the\nSouthward, and doubling the _Cape_ of _Good Hope_, made for _Madagascar_\nand the Bay of _Augustine_, where he took in Wood and Water, with some\nstraggling Seamen, who were cast away in the _Degrave India_ Man, Capt.\n_Young_, Commander. After this, he shap'd his Course for the _Red Sea_,\nand met with a _Dutchman_ of 60 Guns, coming from _Mocha_, whom he kept\nCompany with a Week. Tho' he was resolved upon turning Pyrate, he\nintended to rob only the _Moor_ Ships, which occasioned a Dispute\nbetween him and his Men; they insisting on the Ship's being a _Moor_, he\nas strenuously asserting she was _Dutch_, was positive in his Resolve of\nmeddling with no _European_ Ships. The Men were for boarding, but his\nObstinacy not being to be conquered, they broke _Halsey_ and his Gunner,\nconfining both, and were ready to board the _Dutchman_, when one of the\nCrew perceiving he was about to run out his lower Tire, knock'd down the\nQuarter-Master (whose Business it is to be at the Helm in Time of Chase\nor Engagement, according to the Rules of Pyrates) clapp'd the Helm hard\na Weather, and wore the _Brigantine_: The _Dutchman_ staid, and fired a\nShot, which taking a Swivel Gun carried it aft, narrowly miss'd the Man\nat Helm, and shatter'd the Tafrel; the Men perceiving they had catch'd a\n_Tartar_, made the best of their Way to shake her off, and some were\nrunning down between Decks, whom the Surgeon prick'd up again with his\nSword, tho' he no Way was consenting to their design'd Pyracy. The\nCaptain and a Gunner were again reinstated after they had seen their\nMistake, and then they steer'd for the _Nicobar_ Islands, where they met\nwith a Country Ship, called the _Buffalo_, commanded by Captain\n_Buckley_, an _Englishman_, coming from _Bengal_, which they took after\na short Engagement, there being only three _Europeans_ aboard, the\nCaptain and two Mates, the rest were _Moors_. This Ship fell seasonably\nin their Way, she being bound for _Achen_, with Butter, Rice, and\nCloath, and the Pyrates, at that Time, being in great Streights both for\nProvision and Cloathing. They took the two Mates to Sea with them, but\nleft the Captain and the _Moors_ at _Cara Nicobar_, at an Anchor, and\nthen took a Cruize. Captain _Buckley_, who was sick, died before their\nReturn; in the Cruize they met with Captain _Collins_ in a Country\nSloop, bound also to _Achen_: He had also two _English_ Mates with him,\nbut the rest of his Company consisted of _Moors_; him they carried to\nthe same Harbour where they left the _Buffalo_.\nHere a Dispute arose among the Pyrates, some were for returning to the\n_West Indies_, others were against it, for they had got no Money, and\nthat was what engaged their Search; they parted upon this; one Part went\non board the _Buffalo_, made one _Rowe_ Captain, and _Myers_, a\n_Frenchman_, Master, whom they had pick'd up at _Madagascar_. The\nSloop's Deck they ripp'd up, and mended with it the Bottom of the\n_Brigantine_, which _Halsey_ still commanded; the Ship shaped her Course\nfor _Madagascar_, and the _Brigantine_ made for the Streights of\n_Malacca_, to lie in the Tract of the _Manila_ Ships. I must observe,\nthat Capt. _Buckley_'s two Mates, whom they intended to force with them,\nwere by Strength of Intreaty, permitted to go away with a Canoe. In\nthese Streights, they met an _Europe_ built Ship, of 26 Guns, which they\nhad not the Courage to attack, being sour'd by the _Dutchman_. They\nafterwards stood in Shore, and came to an Anchor; few Days after they\nmade a Vessel, which they supposed a _China_ Jonque, and gave Chase, but\nwhen they came pretty nigh, notwithstanding the Pilot assured them, she\nwas what they supposed, they swore it was a _Dutchman_, and would not\nventure upon him; so leaving off their Chase stood in Shore, and came\nagain to an Anchor under the _Peninsula_; they lay here some Days, and\nthen spied a tall Vessel, which they chased, and proved the _Albemarle\nEast India_ Man, Captain _Bews_, Commander, come from _China_; they came\nup with him, but thinking it too warm a Ship, after exchanging a few\nShot, the _Brigantine_ made off, and the _Albemarle_ chased in her Turn:\nThey however got clear, having a better Share of Heels, and came again\nto an Anchor, having not above 40 Hands, their Water growing scarce, and\nnot daring to venture ashore for Fear of the _Dutch_, a Council was\ncalled, and it was resolved to make the best of their Way to\n_Madagascar_, to pick up more Hands, refresh, and set out on new\nAdventures; pursuant to this Resolution, they steer'd for that Island,\nbut fell in their Way on _Mascarenas_ where, making a small Present to\nthe Governor, they were supplied with what they wanted; from hence they\nwent to a Place on _Madagascar_, call'd by the Pyrates _Hopeful Point_;\nby the Natives, _Harangby_, near the Island of St. _Mary_'s, on the Lat.\nof 17. 40 S. where they met with the _Buffalo_, and the _Dorothy_, a\nPrize, made by Captain _Thomas White_ and his Company, being about 90 or\n100 Men, settled near the same Place, in petty Governments of their own,\nhaving some of them 500 or 600, some 1000 Negroe Subjects, who\nacknowledged their Sovereignty. Here they again repaired their\nBrigantine, took in Provisions and all Necessaries, augmented their\nCompany to about 100 Men, and set out for the _Red Sea_; they touch'd at\n_Johanna_, and there took in a Quantity of Goats and Cocoa Nuts for\nfresh Provisions, and thence in eleven Days reach'd the Streights of\n_Babel Mandel_: They had not cruised here many Days, when they spied the\n_Moors_ Fleet from _Mocha_ and _Jufa_, consisting of 25 Sail, which they\nfell in with, and had been taken, if their Oars had not help'd them off,\nit falling a dead Calm. They had not apprehended the Danger so great, if\nthey had not judged these Ships convoy'd by some _Portuguese_ Men of\nWar: Some Days after this, they met a one Mast Vessel, called a Grab,\ncoming from _Mocha_, which they spied within Gun-Shot, in a thick Fog;\nthey fired a Shot which out her Halliards, and then they took Possession\nof her with their Boats; she was laden with Drugs, but they took only\nsome Necessaries and 2000 Dollars, and having learned that 4 _English_\nVessels lay at _Mocoa_, of which one was from _Jufa_, they let her go.\nThree Days after they spied the 4 Ships, which they at first took for\nthe Trees of _Babel Mandel_; at Night they fell in with, and kept them\nCompany till Morning, the Trumpets sounding on both Sides all the Time,\nfor the Pyrate had two on board as well as the _English_. When it was\nclear Day the four Ships drew into a Line, for they had haled the\nPyrate, who made no Ceremony of owning who he was, by answering\naccording to their Manner _From the Seas_. The _Brigantine_ bore up till\nshe had slung her Garf. One of the Ships perceiving this, advised\nCaptain _Jago_, who led the Van, in a Ship of 24 Guns and 70 Men, to\ngive Chace, for the Pyrate was on the Run; but a Mate, who was\nacquainted with the Way of working among Pyrates, answered he would find\nhis Mistake, and said he had seen many a warm Day, but feared this would\nbe the hottest. The _Brigantine_ turn'd up again, and coming a Stern,\nclapp'd the _Rising Eagle_ aboard, a Ship of 16 Guns and the Sternmost;\ntho' they entered their Men, the _Rising Eagle_ held them a warm Dispute\nfor 3 Quarters of an Hour, in which Captain _Chamberlain_'s chief Mate\nand several others were killed, the Purser was wounded, jumped\nover-board, and drowned: In the mean while the other Ships call'd to\nCaptain _Jago_ to board the Pyrate; who bearing away, to clap him\naboard, the Pyrate gave him a Shot, which raked him fore and aft, and\ndetermined Captain _Jago_ to get out of Danger; for he run away with all\nthe Sail he could pack, tho' he was fitted out to protect the Coast\nagainst Pyrates. His Example was followed by the rest, every one\nsteering a different Course: Thus they became Masters of the _Rising\nEagle_. I can't but take Notice, that the second Mate of the _Rising\nEagle_, after Quarters were called for, fired from out of the\nForecastle, and killed two of the Pyrates, one of whom was the Gunner's\nConsort, who would have revenged his Death by shooting the Mate, but\nseveral _Irish_ and _Scots_, together with one Captain _Thomas White_,\nonce a Commander among the Pyrates, but then a private Man, interposed\nand saved him, in regard that he was an _Irishman_. They examined the\nPrisoners to know which was the Ship came from _Juffa_, for that had\nMoney on board; and having learn'd it was the _Essex_, they gave Chace,\ncame up with her, hoisted the bloody Flag at the Mainmast-head, fired\none single Gun, and she struck; tho' the _Essex_ was fitted for close\nQuarters, there were not on board the _Brigantine_ above 20 Hands, and\nthe Prize was a Stern so far, that her Top-mast scarce appeared out of\nthe Water; in chacing this Ship, they pass'd the other two, who held the\nFly of their Ensigns in their Hands ready to strike. When the Ship had\nstruck, the Captain of her asked who commanded that _Brigantine_, he was\nanswered, Captain _Halsey_; asking again who was Quarter-Master? He was\ntold, _Nathaniel North_, to whom he called, as he knew him very well.\n_North_ learning his Name was _Punt_, said Captain _Thomas Punt, I am\nsorry you are fallen into our Hands_; he was civilly treated, and\nnothing belonging to himself or the _English_ Gentlemen, who were\nPassengers, touch'd, tho' they made bold to lay Hands on 40000 l. in\nMoney belonging to the Ship. They had about 10000 l. in Money out of the\n_Rising Eagle_. They discharged the _Essex_, and with the other Prize\nand the Brigantine, steer'd for _Madagascar_, where they arrived and\nshared their Booty. Some of the Passengers, who had been so well\ntreated, came afterwards with a small Ship from _India_ (with License\nfrom the Governor of _Maderas_) called the _Greyhound_, laden with\nNecessaries, in Hopes to barter with the Pyrates for the dry Goods they\nhad taken, and recover them at an easy Rate: They were received very\nkindly, an Invoice of their Goods was asked, the Goods agreed for,\nshared and paid in Money and Bale Goods. In the mean while came in a\nShip from _Scotland_, called the _Neptune_, 26 Guns, 54 Men, commanded\nby Captain _James Miller_, with a Design to slave, and to go thence to\n_Batavia_ to dispose of her Negroes (having a Supercargo on board,\nbrought up among the _Dutch_) and thence to _Malacco_, to take on board\nthe Cargo of a Ship, call'd the _Speedwell_, lost on her Return from\n_China_; but finding here another Ship trading with the Pyrates, and\nhaving many Necessaries, _French_ Brandy, _Madera_ Wine, and _English_\nStout on board, Captain _Miller_ thought it better to trade for Money\nthan Slaves. The Merchants of the _Greyhound_ nettled to see any but\nthemselves take Money, for the Pyrates never haggled about a Price, told\n'em, They could not do the Governor of _Maderas_ a more grateful Piece\nof Service, than to make Prize of the _Neptune_, which was a Ship fit\nfor their Purpose. To which some of the _Scotch_ and _Irish_ answered,\nthey had not best put such a Design on Foot, for if the Company once got\nit into their Heads to take one, they'd go nigh to take both Ships. In a\nshort Time after came on a Hurricane, which obliged the _Neptune_ to cut\naway all her Masts, and lost the three Ships belonging to the Pyrates,\nwhich was their whole Fleet. They having now no Ship, and several of\nthem no Money, having been stripp'd at Play, their Thoughts were bent on\nthe _Neptune_. The Chief Mate of her _Daniel Burgis_, who had a Spleen\nto the Captain, joining privately with the Pyrates (among whom he died)\ngot all the small Masts and Yards ashore; and the Pyrates being\nrequested to find him proper Trees for Masting, told Captain _Miller_,\nthey had found such as would serve his Turn, desiring he would take a\nNumber of Hands ashore to get them down to the Water, which he\n(suspecting no harm) accordingly did, and he and his Men were seized,\nand the Long Boat detained ashore. The Captain was forced to send for\nthe second Mate, and afterwards for the Gunner; the Mate, who was the\nCaptain's Brother, went, but the Gunner suspecting foul Play refused: In\nthe Evening _Burgess_ came on board, and advised the Surrender of the\nShip, which, tho' but sixteen were left on board, they scrupled, and\nproposed going under the Cover of their own Guns to fetch their\nTop-masts and Yards, and with them to put to Sea; but the Chief Mate\n_Burgess_, whose Villany was not then known, persuaded them to give up a\nShip they could neither defend nor sail; which was no small Satisfaction\nto the Merchants in the _Greyhound_, little thinking how soon they would\nmeet with the same Treatment; for two Days after the Pyrates mann'd the\n_Neptune_'s Pinnace, seized the _Greyhound_, took away all the Money\nthey had paid, and shifting out of the _Neptune_ ten Pipes of _Madera_,\nwith two Hogsheads of Brandy, into the _Greyhound_, and putting on board\nthe Captain, second Mate, Boatswain and Gunner of the _Neptune_, and\nabout 14 of her Hands, ordered her to Sea; the rest of the _Neptune_'s\nCompany being young Men fit for their Purpose, they detained, most of\nwhich, by hard drinking, fell into Distempers and died. As to Captain\n_Halsey_, while the _Scotch_ Ship was fitting, he fell ill of a Fever,\ndied and was buried with great Solemnity and Ceremony; the Prayers of\nthe Church of _England_ were read over him, Colours were flying, and his\nSword and Pistol laid on his Coffin, which was covered with a Ship's\nJack; as many Minute Guns fired as he was Years old, _viz._ 46, and\nthree _English_ Vollies, and one _French_ Volley of small Arms. He was\nbrave in his Person, courteous to all his Prisoners, lived beloved, and\ndied regretted by his own People. His Grave was made in a Garden of\nWater Melons, and fenced in with Pallisades to prevent his being rooted\nup by wild Hogs, of which there are Plenty in those Parts.\n_P. S._ The _Neptune_ seized as above, was the Year after Captain\n_Halsey_'s Death, ready to go to Sea; but a Hurricane happening she was\nlost, and prov'd the last Ship that Gang of Pyrates ever got Possession\nof.\nHe was born at _Plymouth_, where his Mother kept a Publick House; she\ntook great Care of his Education and when he was grown up, as he had an\nInclination to the Sea, procur'd him the King's Letter. After he had\nserved some Years on board a Man of War, he went to _Barbadoes_, where\nhe married, got into the Merchants Service, and designed to settle in\nthe Island: He had the Command of the _Marygold Brigantine_ given him,\nin which he made two successful Voyages to _Guiney_ and back to\n_Barbadoes_; in his third, he had the Misfortune to be taken by a\n_French_ Pyrate, as were several other _English_ Ships, the Masters and\ninferior Officers of which they detained, being in Want of good Artists.\nThe Brigantine belonging to _White_ they kept for their own Use, and\nsunk the Vessel they before sailed in; but meeting with a Ship on the\n_Guiney_ Coast more fit for their Purpose, they went on board her, and\nburnt the Brigantine.\nIt is not my Business here to give an Acount of this _French_ Pyrate,\nany farther than Captain _White_'s Story obliges me, tho' I beg Leave to\ntake Notice of their Barbarity to the _English_ Prisoners, for they\nwould set them up as a Butt or Mark to shoot at; several of whom were\nthus murdered in cool Blood, by Way of Diversion.\n_White_ was marked out for a Sacrifice by one of these Villains, who,\nfor I know not what Reason, had sworn his Death, which he escaped thus.\nOne of the Crew, who had a Friendship for _White_, knew this Fellow's\nDesign, to kill him in the Night, and therefore advised him to lye\nbetween him and the Ship's Side, with Intention to save him; which\nindeed he did, but was himself shot dead by the murderous Villain, who\nmistook him for _White_; but this by the Bye.\nAfter some Time cruizing along the Coast, the Pyrates doubled the _Cape_\nof _Good Hope_, and shaped their Course for _Madagascar_, where, being\ndrunk and mad, they knock'd their Ship on the Head, at the _South_ End\nof the Island, at a Place called by the Natives _Elexa_; the Country\nthereabouts was governed by a King, named _Mafaly_.\nWhen the Ship struck, Captain _White_, Captain _Boreman_, (born in the\nIsle of _White_, formerly a Lieutenant of a Man of War, but in the\nMerchants Service when he fell into the Hands of the Pyrates) Captain\n_Bowen_ and some other Prisoners got to the Long-Boat, and with broken\nOars and Barrel Staves, which they found in the Bottom of the Boat,\npaddled to _Augustine_ Bay; that is about 14 or 15 Leagues from the\nWreck where they landed, and were kindly received by the King of _Bavaw_\n(the Name of that Part of the Island) who spoke good _English_.\nThey staid here a Year and a half at the King's Expence, who gave them a\nplentiful Allowance of Provision, as was his Custom to all White Men,\nwho met with any Misfortune on his Coast; his Humanity not only provided\nfor all such, but the first _European_ Vessel that came in, he always\nobliged them to take in the unfortunate People, let the Vessel be what\nit would; for he had no Notion of any Difference between Pyrates and\nMerchants.\nAt the Expiration of the above Term, a Pyrate Brigantine came in, aboard\nwhich the King obliged them to enter, or travel by Land to some other\nPlace, which they durst not do; and of two Evils chose the least, that\nof going on board the Pyrate Vessel, which was commanded by one _William\nRead_, who received them very civilly.\nThis Commander went along the Coast, and pick'd up what _Europeans_ he\ncould meet with; his Crew however did not exceed forty Men, he would\nhave been glad of taking on board some of the wreck'd _Frenchmen_, but\nfor the Barbarity they had used towards the _English_ Prisoners;\nhowever, it was impracticable, for the _French_ pretending to lord it\nover the Natives, whom they began to treat inhumanly, were set upon by\nthem, one half of their Number cut off, and the other half made Slaves.\n_Read_, with this Gang, and a Brigantine of 60 Tons, steer'd his Course\nfor the Gulf of _Persia_, where they met a Grabb (a one masted Vessel)\nof about 200 Tons, which was made Prize.\nThey found nothing on board but Bale Goods, most of which they threw\nover-board to search for Gold, and to make Room in the Vessel; but as\nthey learned afterwards, they threw over in their Search, what they so\ngreedily hunted after, for there was a considerable Quantity of Gold\nconcealed in one of the Bales they toss'd into the Sea.\nIn this Cruise Captain _Read_ fell ill and died; he was succeeded by one\n_James_. The Brigantine being small, crazy, and worm eaten, they shaped\ntheir Course for the Island of _Mayotta_, where they took out the Masts\nof the Brigantine, fitted up the Grabb, and made a Ship of her: Here\nthey took in a Quantity of fresh Provision, which is in this Island very\nplentiful, and very cheap; and found a twelve oar'd Boat, which formerly\nbelonged to the _Ruby East India_ Man, which had been lost there.\nThey staid here all the Monsoon Time, which is about six Months; after\nwhich they resolved for _Madagascar_. As they came in with the Land,\nthey spied a Sail coming round from the _East_ Side of the Island; they\ngave Chase on both Sides, so that they soon met: They haled each other,\nand receiving the same Answer from each Vessel, _viz._ _from the Seas_,\nthey joined Company.\nThis Vessel was a small _French_ Ship, laden with Liquors from\n_Martinico_, first commanded by one _Fourgette_, to trade with the\nPyrates for Slaves, at _Ambonawoula_, on the _East_ Side the Island, in\nthe Lat. of 17. 30. and was by them taken after the following Manner.\nThe Pyrates, who were headed by _George Booth_, Commander of the Ship,\nwent on board (as they had often done) to the Number of ten, and carried\nMoney with them under Pretence of purchasing what they wanted. (This\n_Booth_ had formerly been Gunner of a Pyrate Ship, called the\n_Dolphin_.) Captain _Fourgette_ was pretty much upon his Guard, and\nsearched every Man as he came over the Side, and a Pair of Pocket\nPistols were found upon a _Dutchman_, who was the first enter'd; the\nCaptain told him, _he was a Rogue, and had a Design upon his Ship_, and\nthe Pyrates pretended to be so angry with this Fellow's offering to come\non board with Arms, that they threatned to knock on the Head, and\ntossing him roughly into the Boat, ordered him ashore, tho' they had\nbefore taken an Oath on the Bible, either to carry the Ship or die in\nthe Undertaking.\nThey were all searched, but they however contrived to get on board 4\nPistols, which were all the Arms they had for the Enterprize, tho'\n_Fourgette_ had 20 Hands on board, and his small Arms on the Arning to\nbe in Readiness.\nThe Captain invited them into the Cabbin to Dinner, but _Booth_ chose to\ndine with the petty Officers, tho' one _Johnson_, _Isaac_, and another,\nwent down.\n_Booth_ was to give the Watch Word, which was _Hurrah_; he pretending to\nmake Water over the Side of the Gunnel, laid his Hand on the Arning, and\nbeing a nimble Fellow, at one Spring threw himself upon it, drew the\nArms to him, fired his Pistol forward among the Men, one of whom he\nwounded, (who jumping over-board was lost) and gave the Signal.\nThree I said were in the Cabbin, and seven upon Deck, who with\nHandspikes and the Arms seized, secured the Ship's Crew. The Captain and\nhis two Mates, who were at Dinner in the Cabbin, hearing the Pistol,\nfell upon _Johnson_, and stabb'd him in several Places with their Forks,\nbut they being Silver, did him no great Damage. _Fourgette_ snatch'd his\nPiece which he snapp'd at _Isaac_'s Breast several Times, but it would\nnot go off; at last, finding his Resistance vain, he submitted, and the\nPyrates set him, and those of his Men who would not join them, on Shore,\nallowing him to take his Books, Papers, and whatever else he claimed as\nbelonging to himself; and besides treating him very humanly gave him\nseveral Casks of Liquor, with Arms and Powder, to purchase Provisions in\nthe Country.\nI hope this Digression, as it was in a Manner needful, will be excused;\nI shall now proceed.\nAfter they had taken in the _Dolphin_'s Company, which were on the\nIsland, and encreased by that Means their Crew to the Number of 80\nHands, they sail'd to St. _Mary_'s, where Captain _Misson_'s Ship lay at\nAnchor, between the Island and the Main: This Gentleman and his whole\nShip's Company had been cut off, at the Instigation of _Ort-Vantyle_, a\n_Dutchman_ of _New-York_.\nOut of her they took Water Casks and other Necessaries, which having\ndone, they designed for the River _Methelage_, on the West Side\n_Madagascar_, in the Lat. of 16 or thereabouts, to salt up Provisions\nand to proceed to the _East Indies_, cruize off the Islands of St.\n_John_, and lie in Wait for the _Moors_ Ships from _Mocha_.\nIn their Way to _Methelage_ they fell in (as I have said) with the\nPyrate, on board of which was Captain _White_; they join'd Company, came\nto an Anchor together in the above-nam'd River, where they had cleaned,\nsalted up, taken in their Provisions, and were ready to go to Sea, when\na large Ship appeared in Sight, and stood into the same River.\nThe Pyrates knew not whether she was a Merchant Man or Man of War; she\nhad been the latter, belonging to the _French_ King, and could mount 50\nGuns; but being taken by the _English_, she was bought by some _London_\nMerchants, and fitted out from that Port, to slave at _Madagascar_, and\ngo to _Jamaica_. The Captain was a young unexperienced Man, who was put\nin with a Nurse.\nThe Pyrates sent their Boats to speak with him, but the Ship firing at\nthem, they concluded it a Man of War, and rowed to Shore, the two\nPyrates slipp'd and run ashore; the Grabb standing in, and not keeping\nher Wind so well as the _French_ built Ship, run among a Parcel of\nMangroves, and a Stump piercing her Bottom, she sunk; the other run\naground, let go her Anchor, and came to no Damage, for the Tide of Flood\nfetch'd her off.\nThe Captain of the _Speaker_, for that was the Name of the Ship which\nfrighten'd the Pyrates, was not a little vain of having forced these two\nVessels ashore, tho' he did not know whether they were Pyrates or\nMerchant Men, and could not help expressing himself in these Words; _How\nwill my Name ring on the_ Exchange, _when it is known I have run two\nPyrates aground_, which gave Handle to a satyrical Return from one of\nhis Men after he was taken, who said, _Lord, How our Captain's Name will\nring on the_ Exchange, _when it is heard, he frighten'd two Pyrate Ships\nashore, and was taken by their two Boats afterwards_.\nWhen the _Speaker_ came within Shot, she fired several at the two\nVessels; and when she came to an Anchor, several more into the Country,\nwhich alarm'd the Negroes, who, acquainting their King, he would allow\nhim no Trade, till the Pyrates living ashore, and who had a Design on\nhis Ship, interceded for 'em, telling the King, they were their\nCountrymen, and what had happened was thro' a Mistake, it being a Custom\namong them to fire their Guns by Way of Respect, and it was owing to the\nGunner of the Ship's Negligence, that they fir'd Shot.\nThe Captain of the _Speaker_ sent his Purser ashore, to go up the\nCountry to the King, who lived about 24 Miles from the Coast, to carry a\ncouple of small Arms inlaid with Gold, a couple of Brass Blunderbusses,\nand a Pair of Pistols, as Presents, and to require Trade.\nAs soon as the Purser was ashore, he was taken Prisoner, by one _Tom\nCollins_, a _Welchman_, born in _Pembroke_, who lived on Shore, and had\nbelong'd to the _Charming Mary_ of _Barbadoes_, which went out with a\nCommission, but was converted to a Pyrate; he told the Purser, he was\nhis Prisoner, and must answer the Damage done two Merchants, who were\nslaving.\nThe Purser answer'd, that he was not Commander, that the Captain was a\nhot rash Youth, put into a Business by his Friends, which he did not\nunderstand; but however, Satisfaction should be made.\nHe was carried by _Collins_ on board _Booth_'s Ship, where, at first, he\nwas talked to in pretty strong Terms; but after a while very civilly\nus'd, and the next Morning sent up to the King with a Guide, and Peace\nmade for him, as already said.\nThe King allowed them Trade, and sent down the usual Presents, a couple\nof Oxen, between 20 and 30 People laden with Rice, and as many more with\nthe Country Liquor, called _Toke_.\nThe Captain then settled the Factory on the Shore Side, and began to buy\nSlaves and Provisions; the Pyrates were among them, and had\nOpportunities of sounding the Men, and knowing in what Posture the Ship\nlay. They found by one _Hugh Man_, belonging to the _Speaker_, that\nthere were not above 40 Men on board, and that they had lost the second\nMate and 20 Hands in the Long Boat, on the Coast, before they came into\nthis Harbour, but that they kept a good Look-out, and had their Guns\nready primed; however, he, for a hundred Pounds, undertook to wet all\nthe Priming, and assist in the taking the Ship.\nAfter some Days the Captain of the _Speaker_ came on Shore, and was\nreceived with a great Deal of Civility by the Heads of the Pyrates,\nhaving agreed before to make Satisfaction; in a Day or two after, he was\ninvited by them to eat a Barbacute Shoot, which Invitation he accepted.\nAfter Dinner, Captain _Bowen_, who was, I have already said, a Prisoner\non board the _French_ Pyrate, but now become one of the Fraternity, and\nMaster of the _Grab_, went out, and returned with a Case of Pistols in\nhis Hand, and told the Captain of the _Speaker_, whose Name I won't\nmention, that he was his Prisoner; he asked, upon what Account? _Bowen_\nanswered, they wanted a Ship, his was a good One, and they were resolved\nto have her, to make amends for the Damage he had done them.\nIn the mean while his Boats Crew, and the rest of his Men ashore, were\ntold by other of the Pyrates, who were drinking with them, that they\nwere also Prisoners; some of them answer'd, _Z--ds, we don't trouble our\nHeads what we are, let's have t'other Bowl of Punch_.\nA Watch Word was given, and no Boat to be admitted on board the Ship;\nthis Word, which was for that Night, _Coventry_, was known to them: At\nEight a-Clock they mann'd the twelve-oar'd Boat, and that they found at\n_Mayotta_, with 24 Men, and set out for the Ship.\nWhen they were put off, the Captain of the _Speaker_ desired them to\ncome back, he wanted to speak with them; Captain _Booth_ asked, what he\nwanted? He said, they could never take his Ship, then said _Booth_,\nwe'll die in or along Side of her; but replied the Captain, if you will\ngo with Safety, don't board on the Lar-board Side, for there is a Gun\nout of the Steerage loaden with Patridge, will clear the Decks; they\nthank'd him, and proceeded.\nWhen they were near the Ship they were haled, and the Answer was, _the\nCoventry_; all well, said the Mate, get the Lights over the Side, but\nspying the second Boat, he asked what Boat that was? one answered, it\nwas a Raft of Water, another, that it was a Boat of Beef; this\nDisagreement in the Answers made the Mate suspicious, who cried out\n_Pyrates, take to your Arms my Lads_, and immediately clapp'd a Match to\na Gun, which, as the Priming was before wet by the Treachery of _Hugh\nMan_, only fizz'd; they boarded in the Instant, and made themselves\nMasters of her, without the Loss of a Man on either Side.\nThe next Day they put necessary Provisions on board the _French_ built\nShip, and gave her to the Captain of the _Speaker_, and those Men who\nwould go off with him, among whom was _Man_, who had betray'd his Ship;\nfor the Pyrates had both paid him the 100 l. agreed, and kept his\nSecret. The Captain having thus lost his Ship, sail'd in that the\nPyrates gave him, for _Johanna_, where he fell ill and died with Grief.\nThe Pyrates having here victualled, they sail'd for the Bay of St.\n_Augustine_, where they took in between 70 and 80 Men, who had belonged\nto the Ship _Alexander_, commanded by Captain _James_, a Pyrate; they\nalso took up her Guns, and mounted the _Speaker_ with 54, which made up\ntheir Number 240 Men besides Slaves, of which they had about 20.\nFrom hence they sailed for the _East Indies_, but stopp'd at _Zanguebar_\nfor fresh Provisions, where the _Portuguese_ had once a Settlement, but\nnow inhabited by _Arabians_; some of them went ashore with the Captain\nto buy Provisions, the Captain was sent for by the Governor, who went\nwith about 14 in Company: They past thro' the Guard, and when they were\nentered the Governor's House, they were all cut off; and, at the same\nTime, others who were in different Houses of the Town were set upon,\nwhich made them fly to the Shore; the Long-Boat, which lay off at a\nGrapling, was immediately put in by those who look'd after her: There\nwere not above half a dozen of the Pyrates who brought their Arms\nashore, but they plyed them so well, for they were in the Boat, that\nmost of the Men got into her, the Quarter-Master ran down Sword in Hand,\nand tho' he was attack'd by many, he behaved himself so well, that he\ngot into a little Canoe, put her off and reached the Long-Boat.\nIn the Interim, the little Fort the _Arabians_ had, play'd upon the\nShip, which returned the Salute very warmly. Thus they got on board,\nwith the Loss of Captain _Booth_ and twenty Men, and set Sail for the\n_East-Indies_.\nWhen they were under Sail, they went to Voting for a new Captain, and\nthe Quarter-Master, who had behaved so well in the last Affair with the\n_Arabians_, was chosen; but he declining all Command, the Crew made\nChoice of _Bowen_ for Captain, _Pickering_ to succeed him as Master,\n_Samuel Herault_, a _Frenchman_, for Quarter-Master, and _Nathaniel\nNorth_, for Captain Quarter-Master.\nThings being thus settled, they came to the Mouth of the _Red Sea_, and\nfell in with 13 Sail of _Moors_ Ships, which they kept Company with the\ngreater Part of the Day, but were afraid to venture on them as they took\nthem for _Portuguese_ Men of War; at length part were for boarding, and\nadvised it, the Captain, tho' he said little, did not seem inclin'd, for\nhe was but a young Pyrate, tho' an old Commander of a Merchant Man.\nThose who push'd for boarding then, desired Captain _Boreman_, already\nmentioned, to take the Command; but he said, he would not usurp on any,\nthat no Body was more fit for it than he who had it, that for his Part,\nhe would stand by his Fusil and went forward to the Forecastle with such\nas would have had him taken the Command, to be ready to board; on which,\nthe Captain's Quarter-Master said, if they were resolved to engage their\nCaptain, (whose Representative he was) did not want Resolution,\ntherefore, he ordered them to get their Tacks on board (for they had\nalready made a clear Ship) and get ready for boarding; which they\naccordingly did, and coming up with the sternmost Ship, they fired a\nBroadside into her, which killed two _Moors_, clapp'd her on board and\ncarried her; but Night coming on, they made only this Prize, which\nyielded them 500 l. _per_ Man.\nFrom hence they sailed to the Coast of _Mallabar_; the Adventures of\nthese Pyrates on this Coast are already set down in Captain _Bowen_'s\nLife, to which I refer the Reader, and shall only observe, Captain\n_White_ was all this while afore the Mast, being a forced Man from the\nBeginning.\n_Bowen_'s Crew dispersing, Captain _White_ went to _Methelage_, where he\nlived ashore with the King, not having any Opportunity of getting off\nthe Island, till another Pyrate Ship, called the _Prosperous_, commanded\nby one _Thomas Howard_, who had been bred a Lighterman on the River of\n_Thames_, came in: This Ship was taken at _Augustine_, by some Pyrates\nfrom Shore, and the Crew of their own Long-Boat, which join'd them, at\nthe Instigation of one _Ranten_, Boatswain's Mate, who was sent for\nWater. They came on board in the Night and surprized her, tho' not\nwithout Resistance, in which the Captain and chief Mate was killed, and\nseveral others wounded, the Particulars of which will be found in\n_Hore_'s Life. Those who were ashore with Captain _White_, resolving to\nenter in this Ship, determined him to go also, rather than be left alone\nwith the Natives, hoping, by some Accident or other, to have an\nOpportunity of returning home. He continu'd on board this Ship, in which\nhe was made Quarter-Master, till they met with, and all went on board of\n_Bowen_, as is set down in his Life, in which Ship he continued after\n_Bowen_ left them, as shall be mentioned in the Appendix. At _Port\nDolphin_ he went off in the Boat to fetch some of the Crew left ashoar,\nthe Ship being blown to Sea the Night before. The Ship not being able to\nget in, and he supposing her gone to the West-Side of the Island, as\nthey had formerly proposed, he steered that Course in his Boat with 26\nMen. They touch'd at _Augustine_ expecting the Ship, but she not\nappearing in a Week, the Time they waited, the King order'd 'em to be\ngone, telling 'em they impos'd on him with Lies, for he did not believe\nthey had any Ship; however, he gave 'em fresh Provision. They took in\nWater, and made for _Methelage_. Here, as Captain _White_ was known to\nthe King, they were kindly received, and staid about a Fortnight in\nExpectation of their Ship, but she not appearing, they raised their Boat\na-streak, salted up the Provisions the King gave 'em, put Water aboard,\nand stood for the North-End of the Island, designing to go round,\nbelieving their Ship might be at the Island of St. _Mary_. When they\ncame to the North-End, the Current, which sets to the North-West for\neight Months in the Year, was so strong they found it impossible to get\nround. Wherefore they got into a Harbour, of which there are many for\nsmall Vessels. Here they staid about three Weeks or a Month, when part\nof the Crew were for burning the Boat, and for travelling over Land to a\nblack King of their Acquaintance, whose Name was _Reberimbo_, who lived\nat a Place called _Manangaromasigh_, in the Latitude of 15, or\nthereabouts. As this King had been several times assisted by the Whites\nin his Wars, he was a great Friend to them. Captain _White_ disswaded\nthem from this Undertaking, and, with much ado, saved the Boat; but one\nhalf of the Men being resolved to go by Land, they took what Provisions\nthey thought necessary, and set out, Captain _White_, and those who\nstaid with him, convoy'd 'em a Day's Journey, and then returning, he got\ninto the Boat with his Companions, and went back to _Methelage_, fearing\nthese Men might return, prevail with the rest, and burn the Boat.\nHere he built a Deck on his Boat, and lay by three Months, in which Time\nthere came in three Pyrates with a Boat, who had formerly been trepann'd\non board the _Severn_ and _Scarborough_ Men of War, which had been\nlooking for Pyrates on the East-Side; from which Ships they made their\nescape at _Mohila_, in a small Canoe to _Johanna_, and from _Johanna_ to\n_Mayotta_, where the King built 'em the Boat which brought 'em to\n_Methelage_. The Time of the Current's setting with Violence to the\nNorth-West being over, they proceeded together in _White_'s Boat\n(burning that of _Mayotta_) to the North-End, where the Current running\nyet too strong to get round, they went into a Harbour and staid there a\nMonth, maintaining themselves with Fish and wild Hog, of which there was\ngreat Plenty. At length, having a Slatch of fine Weather, and the\nStrength of the Current abating, they got round; and after sailing about\n40 Mile on the East-Side, they went into a Harbour, where they found a\nPiece of a Jacket, which they knew belong'd to one of those Men who had\nleft 'em to go over Land; he had been a forced Man, and a Ship\nCarpenter; this they supposed he had torn to wrap round his Feet, that\nPart of the Country being barren and rocky. As they sailed along this\nCoast, they came to an Anchor in convenient Harbours every Night, till\nthey got as far as _Manangaromasigh_ where King _Reberimbo_ resided,\nwhere they went in to enquire for their Men, who left 'em at the\nNorth-End, and to recruit with Provisions. The latter was given 'em, but\nthey could have no Information of their Companions.\nFrom hence they went to the Island of St. _Mary_, where a Canoe came off\nto 'em with a Letter directed to any white Man. They knew it to be the\nHand of one of their former Ship-Mates. The Contents of this Letter was\nto advise 'em to be on their Guard, and not trust too much to the Blacks\nof this Place, they having been formerly treacherous. They enquired\nafter their Ship, and was inform'd, that the Company had given her to\nthe _Moors_, who were gone away with her, and that they themselves were\nsettled at _Ambonavoula_, about 20 Leagues to the Southward of St.\n_Mary_, where they lived among the Negroes as so many sovereign Princes.\nOne of the Blacks, who brought off the Letter, went on board their Boat,\ncarried them to the Place called _Olumbah_, a Point of Land made by a\nRiver on one Side, and the Sea on the other, where twelve of 'em lived\ntogether in a large House they had built, and fortified with about 20\nPieces of Canon.\nThe rest of them were settled in small Companies of about 12 or 14\ntogether, more or less, up the said River, and along the Coast, every\nNation by it self, as the _English_, _French_, _Dutch_, _&c._ They made\nEnquiry of their Consorts after the Shares of Prizes which belong'd to\nthem, and they found all very justly laid by to be given them, if ever\nthey return'd, as were what belong'd to the Men who went over Land.\nCaptain _White_ hankering after home, proposed going out again in the\nBoat; for he was averse to settling with them; and many others agreed to\ngo under his Command; and if they could not meet with a Ship to carry\nthem to _Europe_, to follow their old Vocation. But the others did not\nthink it reasonable he should have the Boat, but that it should be set\nto Sale for the Benefit of the Company. Accordingly it was set up, and\nCaptain _White_ bought it for 400 Pieces of Eight, and with some of his\nold Consorts, whose Number was increas'd by others of the Ship's Crew,\nhe went back the Way he had come, to _Methelage_: Here he met with a\n_French_ Ship of about 50 Tuns and 6 Guns; she had been taken by some\nPyrates who lived at _Maratan_, on the East-Side of the Island, and some\nof the _Degrave East-India_ Man's Crew, to whom the Master of her\nrefused a Passage to _Europe_; for as he had himself been a Pyrate and\nQuarter-Master to _Bowen_ in the _Speaker_, he apprehended their taking\naway his Ship, War being then between _England_ and _France_, he thought\nthey might do it without being called in question as Pyrates. The\nPyrates who had been concerned in taking _Herault_'s Ship, for that was\nhis Name, had gone up the Country, and left her to the Men belonging to\nthe _Degrave_, who had fitted her up, clean'd and tallow'd her, and got\nin some Provision, with a Design to go to the _East-Indies_, that they\nmight light on some Ship to return to their own Country.\nCaptain _White_ finding these Men proposed their joining him, and going\nround to _Ambonavoula_, to make up a Company, which they agreed to, and\nunanimously chose him Commander. They accordingly put to Sea, and stood\naway round the South End of the Island, and touch'd at _Don Mascarena_,\nwhere he took in a Surgeon, and stretching over again to _Madagascar_,\nfell in with _Ambonavoula_, and made up his Complement 60 Men. From\nhence he shaped his Course for the Island of _Mayotta_, where he cleaned\nhis Ship, and staid for the Season to go into the _Red Seas_: His\nProvisions being taken in, the Time proper, and the Ship well fitted, he\nsteer'd for _Babelmandel_, and running into a Harbour waited for the\n_Mocha_ Ships.\nHe here took two Grabs laden with Provision, and having some small Money\nand Drugs aboard; these he plunder'd of what was for his Turn, kept 'em\na Fortnight by him, and then let them go. Soon after they spied a tall\nShip, upon which they put to Sea; but finding her _Europe_ built, and\ntoo strong to attempt, for it was a _Dutch_ Man, they gave over the\nChace, and were glad to shake him off, and return to their Station.\nFancying they were here discover'd, from the Coast of _Arabia_, or that\nthe Grabs had given Information of them, they stood over for the\n_Ethiopian_ Shore, keeping a good look out for the _Mocha_ Ships.\nFew Days after they met with a large Ship of about 1000 Tuns and 600\nMen, called the _Malabar_, which they chased, kept Company with all\nNight, and took in the Morning, with the Loss only of their Boatswain,\nand two or three Men wounded. In the taking this Ship they damaged their\nown so much, by springing their Foremast, carrying away their Bowsprit,\nand beating in part of their upper Works, that they did not think her\nlonger fit for their Use, therefore filled her with Prisoners, gave 'em\nProvision, and sent them away.\nSome Days after this they spied a _Portuguese_ Man of War of 44 Guns,\nwhich they chased, but gave it over, by carrying away their\nMain-Top-Mast, so that they did not speak with her, for the _Portuguese_\ntook no Notice of them.\nFour Days after they had left this Man of War, they fell in with a\n_Portuguese_ Merchant-Man, which they chased with the _English_ Colours\nflying, the Chace taking _White_ for an _English_ Man of War or\n_East-India_ Man, made no Sail to get from him, but on his coming up\nbrought to, and sent his Boat on board with a Present of Sweet-Meats for\nthe _English_ Captain; his Boat's Crew was detain'd, and the Pyrates\ngetting into his Boat with their Arms, went on board, and fir'd on the\n_Portuguese_, who being surprizd, asked if War was broke out between\n_England_ and _Portugal_? They answer'd in the Affirmative, but the\nCaptain could not believe 'em. However, they took what they liked, and\nkept him with them.\nAfter two Days they met with the _Dorothy_, an _English_ Ship, Captain\n_Penruddock_ Commander, coming from _Mocha_. They exchanged several Shot\nin the Chace, but when they came a Long-side her, they entered their\nMen, and found no Resistance, she being navigated by _Moors_, no\n_Europeans_ except the Officers being on board. On a Vote they gave\nCaptain _Penruddock_ (from whom they took a considerable Quantity of\nMoney) the _Portuguese_ Ship and Cargoe, with what Bales he pleased to\ntake out of his own, bid him go about his Business, and make what he\ncould of her. As to the _English_ Ship, they kept her for their own Use.\nSoon after they plunder'd the _Mallabar_ Ship, out of which they took as\nmuch Money as came to 200 l. Sterling a man, but miss'd 50000 Chequins\nwhich were hid in a Jar under a Cow's-Stall, kept for the giving Milk to\nthe _Moor_ Supercargoe, an ancient Man. They then put the _Portuguese_\nand _Moor_ Prisoners on board the _Mallabar_, and sent them about their\nBusiness. The Day after they had sent them away, one Captain _Benjamin\nStacy_, in a Ketch of six Guns fell into their Hands; they took what\nMoney he had, and what Goods and Provisions they wanted. Among the Money\nwere 500 Dollars, a Silver Mug and two Spoons belonging to a Couple of\nChildren on board, and under the Care of _Stacy_. The Children took on\nfor their Loss, and the Captain asking the Reason of their Tears, was\nanswer'd by _Stacy_, that the above Sum and Plate was all the Children\nhad to bring them up.\nCaptain _White_ made a Speech to his Men, and told 'em, it was cruel to\nrob the innocent Children; upon which, by unanimous Consent, all was\nrestor'd them again; besides, they made a Gathering among themselves,\nand made a Present to _Stacy_'s Mate, and other his inferior Officers,\nand about 120 Dollars to the Children; they then discharged _Stacy_ and\nhis Crew, and made the best of their Way out of the _Red Sea_.\nThey came into the Bay of _Defarr_, where they found a Ketch at an\nAnchor, which the People had made Prize of, by seizing the Master and\nBoat's Crew ashoar. They found a _French_ Gentleman, one Monsieur\n_Berger_, on board, whom they carried with 'em, took out about 2000\nDollars, and sold the Ketch to the Chief ashoar for Provisions.\nHence they sailed for _Madagascar_, but touch'd at _Mascarena_, where\nseveral of 'em went ashoar with their Booty, about 1200 l. a Man. Here\ntaking in fresh Provision, _White_ steer'd for _Madagascar_, and fell in\nwith _Hopeful Point_, where they shar'd their Goods, and took up\nSettlements ashoar, where _White_ built a House, bought Cattle, took off\nthe upper Deck of his Ship, and was fitting her up for the next Season.\nWhen she was near ready for Sea, Captain _John Halsey_, who had made a\nbroken Voyage, came in with a Brigantine, which being a properer Vessel\nfor their Turn, they desisted from working on the Ship, and who had a\nMind for fresh Adventures, went on board _Halsey_, among whom Captain\n_White_ enter'd afore the Mast.\nAt his return to _Madagascar_, _White_ was taken ill of a Flux, which in\nabout 5 or 6 Months ended his Days; finding his Time was drawing nigh,\nhe made his Will, left several Legacies, and nam'd three Men of\ndifferent Nations, Guardian to a Son he had by a Woman of the Country,\nrequiring he might be sent to _England_ with the Money he left him, by\nthe first _English_ Ship, to be brought up in the Christian Religion in\nhopes he might live a better Man than his Father. He was buried with the\nsame Ceremony they use at the Funerals of their Companions, which is\nmention'd in the Account of _Halsey_. Some Years after an _English_ Ship\ntouching there, the Guardians faithfully discharged their Trust, and put\nhim on board with the Captain, who brought up the Boy with Care, acting\nby him as became a Man of Probity and Honour.\nCaptain _Condent_ was a _Plymouth_ Man born, but we are as yet ignorant\nof the Motives, and Time of his first turning Pyrate; he was one of\nthose who thought fit to retire from _Providence_ (on Governor _Roger_'s\nArrival at that Island) in a Sloop belonging to Mr. _Simpson_, of _New\nYork_, a _Jew_ Merchant, of which Sloop he was then Quarter-Master. Soon\nafter they left the Island, an Accident happened on board, which put the\nwhole Crew into Consternation; they had among them an _Indian_ Man, whom\nsome of them had beat; in revenge, he got most of the Arms forward into\nthe Hold, and designed to blow up the Sloop. Upon which, some advised\nscuttling the Deck and throwing Grenade Shells down, but _Condent_ said,\nthat was too tedious and dangerous, since the Fellow might fire thro'\nthe Decks and kill several of them; he, therefore, taking a Pistol in\none Hand, and his Cutlash in the other, leaped into the Hold; the\n_Indian_ discharged a Piece at him, which broke his Arm, but, however,\nhe ran up to and shot the _Indian_. When he was dead the Crew hack'd him\nto Pieces, and the Gunner ripping up his Belly, tore out his Heart,\nbroiled and eat it.\nAfter this, they took a Merchant Man, called, the _Duke of York_; and\nsome Disputes arising among the Pyrates, the Captain, and one half of\nthe Company, went on board the Prize; the other half, who continued in\nthe Sloop, chose _Condent_ Captain; he shaped his Course for the _Cape\nde Verd_ Islands, and in his Way, took a Merchant Ship from _Maderas_,\nladen with Wine, bound for the _West Indies_, which he plundered and let\ngo; then coming to the Isle of _May_, one of the said Islands, he took\nthe whole Salt Fleet, consisting of about 20 Sail; he wanting a Boom,\ntook out the Mainmast of one of these Ships, to supply the Want: Here he\ntook upon him the Administration of Justice, enquiring into the Manner\nof the Commander's Behaviour to their Men, and those, against whom\nComplaint was made, he whipp'd and pickled. He took what Provisions and\nother Necessaries he wanted, and having augmented his Company, by\nVoluntiers and forced Men, he left the Ships and sailed to St. _Jago_,\nwhere he took a _Dutch_ Ship, which had formerly been a Privateer; this\nprov'd also an easy Prize, for he fired but one Broadside, and clapping\nher on board, carried her without Resistance, for the Captain and\nseveral Men were killed, beside some wounded by his great Shot.\nThis Ship proving for his Purpose, he gave her the Name of the _Flying\nDragon_, went on board with his Crew, and made a Present of his Sloop to\na Mate of an _English_ Prize, whom he had forced with him; from hence he\nstood away for the Coast of _Brazil_, and in his Cruize, took several\n_Portuguese_ Ships, which he plundered and let go.\nAfter these, he fell in with the _Wright_ Galley, Captain _John Spelt_,\nCommander, hired by the _South-Sea_ Company, to go to the Coast of\n_Angola_ for Slaves, and thence to _Buenos Ayres_. This Ship he detained\na considerable Time, and the Captain being his Townsman, treated him\nvery civilly; few Days after he took _Spelt_, he made Prize of a\n_Portuguese_, laden with Bale Goods and Stores; he new rigg'd the\n_Wright_ Galley, and put on board her several Goods.\nSoon after he had discharged the _Portuguese_, he met with a _Dutch\nEast-India_ Man of 26 Guns, whose Captain was kill'd the first\nBroadside, and took her with little Resistance, for he had hoisted the\nPyrates Colours on board _Spelt_'s Ship.\nHe now, with three Sail, steer'd for the Island of _Ferdinando_, where\nhe hove down and clean'd the _Flying Dragon_; having careen'd, he put 11\n_Dutchmen_ on board Captain _Spelt_, to make Amends for the Hands he had\nforced from him, and sent him away, making him a Present of the Goods he\ntook from the _Portuguese_ Ship. When he sail'd himself, he ordered the\n_Dutch_ to stay at _Ferdinando_ 24 Hours after his Departure;\nthreatning, if he did not comply, to sink his Ship; if he fell a second\nTime into his Hands, and to put all the Company to the Sword. He then\nstood for the Coast of _Brazil_, where he met a _Portuguese_ Man of War\nof 70 Guns, which he came up with; the _Portuguese_ hal'd him, and he\nanswer'd, _from London_, bound for _Buenos Ayres_: The _Portuguese_\nmann'd his Shrouds and chear'd him, when _Condent_ fired a Broadside and\na Volley of small Arms, which began a smart Engagement for the Space of\n3 Glasses; but _Condent_ finding himself over-match'd, made the best of\nhis Way, and, being the better Sailor, got off.\nFew Days after he took a Vessel of the same Nation, who gave an Account,\nthat he had killed above 40 Men in the _Guarda del Costa_, beside a\nNumber wounded; he kept along the Coast to the Southward, and took a\n_French_ Ship of 18 Guns, laden with Wine and Brandy, bound for the\n_South-Sea_, which he carried with him into the River of _Plate_. He\nsent some of his Men ashore to kill some wild Cattle, but they were\ntaken by the Crew of a _Spanish_ Man of War; on their Examination before\nthe Captain, they said they were two _Guiney_ Ships, with Slaves\nbelonging to the _South-Sea_ Company, and on this Story were allowed to\nreturn to their Boats: Here five of his forced Men ran away with his\nCanoe, he plundered the _French_ Ship, cut her adrift, and she was\nstranded. He proceeded along the _Brazil_ Coast, and hearing a Pyrate\nShip was lost upon it, and the Pyrates imprisoned, he used all the\n_Portuguese_, who fell into his Hands, who were many, very barbarously,\ncutting off their Ears and Noses; and as his Master was a Papist, when\nthey took a Priest, they made him say Mass at the Main-mast, and would\nafterwards get on his Back and ride him about the Decks, or else load\nand drive him like a Beast. He from this went to the _Guiney_ Coast, and\ntook Captain _Hill_ in the _Indian Queen_.\nIn _Luengo_ Bay he saw two Ships at Anchor, one a _Dutchman_ of 44 Guns,\nthe other an _English_ Ship, called the _Fame_, Captain _Bowen_,\nCommander; they both cut and ran ashore, the _Fame_ was lost, but the\n_Dutch_ Ship, the Pyrate, got off and took with him. When he was at Sea\nagain he discharged Captain _Hill_, and stood away for the\n_East-Indies_. Near the Cape he took an _Ostend East-India_ Man, of\nwhich Mr. _Nash_, a noted Merchant in _London_, was Supercargo. Soon\nafter he took a _Dutch East-India_ Man, discharged the _Ostender_, and\nmade for _Madagascar_; at the Isle of St. _Mary_, he met with some of\nCaptain _Halsey_'s Crew, whom he took on board with other Stragglers,\nand shaped his Course for the _East-Indies_, and in the Way, at the\nIsland of _Johanna_, took, in Company of two other Pyrates he met at St.\n_Mary_'s, the _Cassandra East-India_ Man, commanded by Captain _James\nMacragh_; he continued his Course for the _East-Indies_, where he made a\nvery great Booty, and returning, touch'd at the Isle of _Mascarenas_,\nwhere he met with a _Portuguese_ Ship of 70 Guns, with the Vice-Roy of\n_Goa_, on board. This Ship he made Prize of, and hearing she had Money\non board, they would allow of no Ransom, but carried her to the Coast of\n_Zanguebar_, where was a _Dutch_ Fortification, which they took and\nplunder'd, razed the Fort, and carried off several Men who enter'd\nvoluntarily. From hence they stood for St. _Mary_'s, where they shared\ntheir Booty, broke up their Company, and settled among the Natives: Here\na _Snow_ came from _Bristol_, which they obliged to carry a Petition to\nthe Governor of _Mascarenas_ for a Pardon, tho' they paid the Master\nvery generously. The Governor returned Answer, he would take them into\nProtection if they would destroy their Ships, which they agreed to, and\naccordingly sunk the _Flying Dragon_, &c. _Condent_ and some others went\nto _Mascarenas_, where _Condent_ married the Governor's Sister-in-Law,\nand stay'd some Time; but as I have been credibly inform'd, he is since\ncome to _France_, settled at St. _Maloes_, and drives a considerable\nTrade as a Merchant.\n                      A DESCRIPTION of _MAGADOXA_,\n                     taken partly from the Journal\n                   of Captain _Beavis_, and also from\n                  an original Manuscript of a Molotto,\n                   who was taken by the Natives, and\n                   lived amongst them sixteen Years.\nIn the Year 1700, Capt. _William Beavis_, Commander of the Ship, called\nthe _Albemarle_, then in the Service of the _East-India_ Company, sail'd\nfrom _England_, bound for _Surrat_, in the _East-Indies_, but after\nhaving been some Months at Sea, having the Misfortune to meet with\ncontrary Masorns, he lost his Passage, so that he was forced on the\nCoast of _Zanguebar_, in the higher _Ethiopia_, or the Continent of\n_Africk_, where he endeavoured to find out some Place of Safety, that\nthe Ship might ride secure, and where he might meet with some\nNecessaries for refreshing his Company, while he waited for the Change\nof Winds, which he could not expect in less than three or four Months.\nThey came in with the Land, and cast Anchor on the ninth of _November_,\nthe Year before-mentioned; the Tenth it blew hard, but on the Eleventh\nthe Weather being pretty fair, the Captain sent the Yawl on Shore, in\ntwo different Places, at considerable Distance from each other, they\nfound the Land every where sandy, and all over green with Shrubs, but\nsaw no Houses, nor could they discover the least Track of any human\nCreature; however, they saw Deer, but could not come near enough to have\na Shot at them; they also found the Dung of Wolves, Hares, and some\nother Animals, but saw none; and near the Water-side they found the\nShells of a great Number of Craw-Fish, but met with none alive;\nwherefore, they guessed that they were left here by some Creatures, who\nfished them up and usually fed upon them.\nFinding this Place altogether inhospitable, they weigh'd Anchor and\nsail'd along the Shore, till the 17th of the same Month, when the\nCaptain looking thro' his Spying-glass, saw three or four Men walking\nalong the Sea-Side, and sometimes sitting down, but could not discern\nany House, Fire, or Smoak, but when they had sail'd about a League\nfarther, they perceived an Inlet or Bay, where the Captain fancied there\nmight be a River; he could also perceive several tall Trees, which were\nthe first they had seen since they came upon the Coast, which made the\nCaptain conjecture, that there must be some Inhabitants.\nUpon this, they came to an Anchor, and manning out the Boat, the Captain\nsent Mr. _Baldwin_ the third Mate in her, to go into the Bay, in order\nto discover whether there was any River which discharged itself into it;\nwhen they were in with the Shore, they perceived about fifty or sixty\nPeople standing upon a Bank near the Water-side, and one separating\nhimself from the Rest, approached nearer to them, and held up a white\nPiece of Linnen at the End of a Stick, and waved it at them, which they\nunderstood to be a Flag of Friendship, and which the Boat answered by\nthe like Signal; then the Person on Shore beckon'd to them with his\nHand, which they took to be an Invitation to come on Shore, and\naccordingly they ventured; there were two of the Boat's Men who spoke a\nlittle _Portuguese_, who saluted this Man in that Language; as soon as\nthey came near him, his Gesture appeared very civil, but they could not\nunderstand a Syllable of what he said in Answer, but by his Signs, they\nfancied he invited them to come to their Huts, in order to eat and\ndrink.\nHowever, they did not think fit to stay longer at this Time, but\nreturned on Board, to give the Captain an Account of what had pass'd,\nand to let him know, that they could discover no River in the Bay; they\ndescribed the People to be pretty tall and well made, their Colour jet\nblack, their Heads and Beards close shaved, wearing upon their Heads\nTurbants made of a Kind of Linnen, and a Sort of Sash made of Dungeree\nLinnen about their Wastes, the Rest of their Bodies being quite naked;\nwhereupon, consulting with a Molotto, one of the Ship's Company, who\nunderstood the _Turkish_ and _Arabian_ Languages, what he thought the\nLanguage of these People might be, he judg'd it to be a Kind of\ncorrupted _Arabick_, because their Dress was not unlike that of the\n_Arabians_ of the Desert, and that it was not unlikely, but that they\nmight be some Way descended from them; wherefore, the Captain resolved\nto mann the Boat again, and to send the Molotto ashore with them, to try\nif he could so far understand their Language, as to learn from them,\nwhere there was fresh Water, or any other Refreshments to be had; and\nalso to enquire for some Port or Bay, where the Ship might be with\nSafety till the breaking up of those Easterly Winds.\nThe Wind blew so fresh all that Day, which was the 19th, that they could\nnot send the Boat on Shore. At Night they watched to see if they could\ndiscover any Appearance of Fire any where upon Land, but they could\ndiscern nothing like it; wherefore, it seemed strange to them, that in a\nCountry inhabited, there should be neither Smoak by Day, nor Fire by\nNight, which made them suppose, the Huts of the Natives were far up the\nCountry.\nHowever, the next Day the Boat was sent on Shore with the Molotto\nInterpreter, and Mr. _Courser_ the fourth Mate; and for Fear of any\nSurprize, the Captain ordered them to carry Arms in the Boat. When they\napproach'd near the Shore, several of the Natives made towards the\nWaterside, but seeing the Boat's Men take their Arms in their Hands at\ntheir Landing, they fled affrighted up the Country, nor would they ever\ncome near them after; the Men went a little Way up the Land and met with\nsome Huts, which were covered with the Shells of Turtles, which\nCreatures it is supposed the Natives catch in their proper Season for\nFood, and then making a Covering of their Shells for their Houses; they\nalso saw several Cows, at some Distance, which are very swift at\nrunning, and not larger than our Deer; they saw some other Animals, but\ntook none, and so returned on Board without gaining any Intelligence.\nThe Mistake here was, that they did not lye off with their Boat, and\nmake a Signal as they did at first, which would have disposed the\nNatives to have staid for them, as they did before, but going ashore\nabruptly with Arms in their Hands, frighten'd the Natives, as if they\nhad come to kill them; wherefore, there was no Expectation of making any\nDiscovery here, which induced the Captain to weigh Anchor, and steer a\nlittle farther Westward.\nThe next Morning, which was the twenty second, they came to an Anchor,\nand sent their Boat on Shore again, with Mr. _Baldwin_ the third Mate,\nand the Gunner; there being some high Hills not far from the Place where\nthey landed, the Mate and Gunner resolved to walk to the Top of one of\nthe highest of those Hills, in order to take a View of the Country\nbeneath. About four in the Afternoon they returned again to the Ship,\nbringing Word, that there was a pleasant Valley on the other Side, about\nfive Miles in Length, and near as far in Breadth, but that they could\nsee no Houses or other Signs of Inhabitants, but that the Valley seemed\nto abound with Deer, and several other Creatures; they brought on Board\nthree Antilopes, and two large Guiney Hens, which they shot, and saw\ngreat Numbers of both these Creatures about the Bushes on the Sides of\nthose Hills; the Antilopes were small, but extreamly beautiful, their\nBodies no bigger than that of a Hare, but their Legs much longer, their\nColour was a Mixture of black and white, very smooth, and very bright,\nwith Horns about three Inches long.\nThey weigh'd and crept along ashore to the Westward, and next Day, which\nwas the Twenty third, the Captain with his Spying-glass saw seven or\neight Men near the Shore; wherefore, he sent the Boat to endeavour to\nspeak with them. As soon as they saw the Boat approach them, they went\noff; the Men however went on Shore, and at some Distance saw two Camels\nand two Asses loaden, pass along with Men attending them; they did what\nthey could to speak with these too, but when they perceived the Boat's\nMen to make towards them, they drove so fast there was no coming near\nthem.\nThe next Morning the Weather being clearer than ordinary, the Captain\nlooking thro' his Glass, fancied he saw several tall Spires to the\nWestward; he weigh'd Anchor, and stood away for them; by four in the\nAfternoon, he plainly perceived a large Town, and by six came to an\nAnchor right over against it; however, he did not send the Boat on Shore\nthat Night, but next Morning he ordered Mr. _Baldwin_ the third Mate,\nMr. _Sale_ the Purser, with the Molotto before-mentioned, who spoke the\n_Turkish_ and _Arabian_ Languages, to take the Yawl with four Hands, and\nto carry with them a white Flag, that they might appear to come in a\nfriendly and peaceable Manner, charging them at the same Time to say or\ndo nothing which might appear harsh or offensive. The Boat was no sooner\nin with the Shore, but the Natives flock'd as it were to meet them, and\nappeared very courteous: The Molotto spoke to them in _Arabian_ Tongue,\ngiving them to understand, that they were driven upon their Coasts by\nthe Misfortune of having lost their Voyage, that they were in Want of\nWater, and begg'd they would shew them where they might be supplied, and\nthat if they would think fit to furnish them with fresh Provision they\nwould pay them in Money, or any Goods or Curiosities of _Europe_.\nIt happened the Language they spoke was a Kind of _Arabick_, so that the\nMolotto could discourse with them perfectly well; they answered him,\nthat the King was absent from the City, and that they could do nothing\ntill his Return, but that he would be there as that Night, for they had\nsent him Word of the coming of a Ship, as soon as it appeared in Sight.\nThat however, they might assure themselves, that all they requested\nshould be granted, and shewed them where there were several fine Springs\nof Water: These Springs being a pretty Way from the Water-side, and the\nGround near them craggy and uneven; the Molotto told them it would be\ndifficult to rowl their Casks so long a Way, and over such bad Ground,\nand ask'd them if there were not any Spring nearer the Sea. They\nanswered them no, but that the King would give them Oxen to draw their\nCasks to the Boat; and so they returned on Board with a Present from the\nKing's Son of a Sarne of mash'd Dates, a matted Jar of Sweet-Meats, and\nfour Sheep.\nBetimes the next Morning, being the 26th, the Captain sent the Yawl on\nShore again with the same Officers, to know if the King was come, and to\nbeg Leave to bring on Board some fresh Water, ordering them to make a\nSignal for the Long-Boat to be sent on Shore, in Case they obtained the\nPermission to water; the Yawl had not been long gone before the\nappointed Signal was made, and the Long-Boat was accordingly sent\nimmediately; after which, the Captain perceived the Yawl was returning\nback again to the Ship: She came with four Hands in her to advise the\nCaptain, that the Long-Boat would immediately return with a Cow as a\nPresent to him, and to put him in Mind, that it would be proper to send\nsomething back for a Present to the _Shubander_, (the Name by which they\ncall the King's Son) with whom they, _viz._ the third Mate Mr.\n_Baldwin_, the Gunner, and the Molotto Interpreter, who served in the\nShip as a Quartier, were gone to dine.\nThe Captain was surprized at their Indiscretion, and the more because he\nhad ordered them, to be upon their Guard for Fear of Treachery, having\nfurnished them with Arms for that Purpose, and charged them not to stir\nfar from their Boat; however, there was no Remedy now, so that he sent\nthe Yawl back again with a Present of a small Looking-glass (a great\nCuriosity there) for the Prince, ordering one Man to carry it, and to\ntell the Mate, Gunner, and Molotto to come off as soon as they could,\nthe rest to lye a little off with the Yawl, their Arms ready, but out of\nSight.\nThe Captain observing the Yawl with his Glass, perceived the Men\ncontrary to his Orders were gone on Shore, and looking again a little\nafter, saw the Boat without a Mast, or so much as one Hand in her,\ndrag'd towards the Town quite on Shore, and in a little Time after she\nwas hawl'd out of Sight.\nThis Rashness of his Men gave him a great Deal of Uneasiness, he\napprehended some fatal Consequence from it, (and indeed he had Reason)\nfor he knew the Natives of some Part of the Coast were Cannibals;\ntherefore, for Fear of venturing too much at once, he resolved not to\ntrust the Long-Boat on Shore, till he had some Tideings from the Yawl.\nAll that Day he pass'd with the utmost Uneasiness, keeping a Man\ncontinually on the Watch, looking towards the Shore with a Spying-glass,\nto try if any Thing could be discovered of his Men on the Shore, but all\nto no Purpose; for nothing could be discerned either of them or the Boat\nthe whole Day. That Night was spent in many doubtful Reflections, and\nTears for the Condition of those who were on Shore. Next Morning the\nCaptain resolved to send the Long-Boat towards the Land, with Mr. _Nyn_\nhis first Mate, and some other of his Officers in her, ordering them to\nshew a white Flag, as soon as they should discover any People to come\nnear them; but not to venture to go ashore, but to talk and make Signs\nto the Natives out of the Boat, and to try to discover the Reason of our\nMens being detained; and in Case they found they kept them Prisoners, or\nintended them for Slaves, to try by Means of the Molotto Interpreter to\ntreat with them for their Ransom.\nMr. _Nyn_ obey'd his Orders punctually, and when he came near the Land\nhe lay by, with a white Flag display'd at the End of a Mast, at which\nTime he observed a great Body of People coming from the Town towards the\nSea-Side; the Captain could also discern them from the Ship with his\nSpying-glass, and judg'd them to be betwixt four and five Thousand, but\ninstead of coming to parley, they marched in a Body behind a Bank, which\nstood opposite the Boat, where they lay in a Kind of Ambuscade, without\nreturning any Signal, or shewing any Inclination to speak with the Boat.\nThis look'd plainly, as if they intended to surprize the Men, in Case\nthey should venture to land; wherefore Mr. _Nyn_ resolved to return on\nBoard, and plying along Shore, in order to find the Passage thro' the\nRidge of Rocks of Coral, which runs along ashore, the Natives let fly a\nShower of Arrows at the Boat, which however did no Harm, because they\nfell short; upon which Mr. _Nyn_ commanded his Men to fire their Arms\ntowards the Banks, in order to frighten them, for being so intrench'd,\nhe knew he could do them no Harm; after which he returned on Board.\nThe Captain now began to despair of ever seeing his Men more; the best\nhe could think which could befal them, was, to be made Slaves, for still\nhe did not apprehend that they had met with so melancholy and cruel a\nFate, as their Confidence in the Natives had really brought upon them;\nhe therefore resolved to make one Attempt more, in order to learn some\nNews of what had befallen them: In order to which, he thought of a\nStratagem, by which he should run no Hazard of losing any more of his\nMen, and by which it seemed probable he must hear of them if they were\nalive. He writ a Letter, which Letter he caused to be fix'd to the Top\nof a long Pole, which he ordered to be carried on Shore in the Silence\nof the Night; the Men were to fix the Pole in the Ground, and to make it\nthe more conspicuous, there was a Flag also fastened to the Pole.\nHe did not doubt, but that if any of his Men had the Liberty of walking\nabout, they would come for the Letter which they must see, and if they\nhad not that Liberty, the Natives not being able to read it themselves,\nwould carry it to them.\nIn this Letter he advised Mr. _Baldwin_, and Mr. _Sale_, the third Mate\nand Purser, to treat about their own Ransom themselves, and that of the\nfive Men with them (including the Molotto) and since there was no other\nWay of procuring their Liberty, he would comply with the Terms, let them\nbe what they would; he directed them to fix their Answer upon the same\nPole, and least they should want Pen and Ink, he inclosed a Pencil, and\nalso a Sheet of Paper. And in Hopes an Answer should be left, he\ncommanded the Pole to be fix'd just at the Waters Edge, where there was\nno Bank near, that it might be taken off without the Danger of an\nAmbuscade.\nThis was the best Expedient he could think of, for relieving his unhappy\nCountrymen, who now, alas! were past all Relief. Accordingly the Boat\nwas sent with the said Letter, and two of the Men went on Shore and\nfixed it, and having returned into the Boat, the Boat put off, and came\nto an Anchor at some Distance from the Shore, in order to observe what\nshould become of the Letter; they waited till Noon to no Purpose, then\ntaking up their Anchor, in order to come on Board for some Refreshment,\nthey were but a little while under Sail, when they saw a Man come and\ncarry off the Pole; a little while after which, as they ply'd along the\nShore, and were opposite to the Bank before described, they were saluted\nwith a Volley of Musquet-Shot, one Ball falling into the Boat, and\nseveral others come very near it; wherefore, they made all the Sail they\ncould to give the Captain an Account of what had pass'd.\nThe Fire Arms they made use of were these they found in the Boat, where\nthey also met with six Cartouch Boxes full of Charges, and their making\nuse of them in this Manner, convinced the Captain that they had no Mind\nto come to any Parley with them, or to listen to any Terms about the\nRelease of their unhappy Ship Mates; however they were continually upon\nthe Watch, looking out with wishing Eyes, in Expectation of seeing the\nappointed Signal made for the Answer of the Letter; long they expected\nto no Purpose, which made the Captain think something very fatal had\nhappened to them, and that he should never see them more; but in the\nmidst of his Despair, a Thought came into his Head, which administred to\nhim a little Comfort, he fancied that perhaps they might be carried up\nthe Country, to the Place where the King at that Time was gone, and that\nthe Natives might send the Letter after them, which might be the Reason\nthere was no Answer yet left. Upon this little Glimmering of Hope, he\nresolved to wait some Days longer, for he was willing to lay Hold of any\nHope, rather than bear the Thoughts of going away without them.\nThus Day after Day they waited in Expectation of some Answer, sending\nthe Boat to lye off near the Shore, to be ready in Case any Signal\nshould be made.--One Day they perceived a great Number of People to come\nout of the Town, and make towards the Shore, which gave them an\nExpectation that the Delivery of their Friends was at Hand; they watched\ntheir Motions with earnest Eyes, hoping every Minute to see a Flag of\nTruce, instead of which, they observed them to march directly behind the\nBank, where they seem'd to place themselves in a Kind of Ambuscade.\nNow there seem'd to be an End of all their Hopes, the Boat return'd on\nBoard, and made a Report to the Captain of what they saw, who calling a\nConsultation of all his Officers to hear if any Thing could be offered\nfor the Relief of their Companions; it was proposed by one to send the\nBoat on Shore, to burn some Junks which were hawl'd up about a\nMusquet-Shot from the Water-side, but the Captain considered, that tho'\nthis might gratifie their Revenge, it would bring no Relief to their\npoor captive Friends: On the contrary, the Natives might be provoked to\ndestroy them for it, if they had not done it already, besides as these\nJunks lay not far from the Bank, their Men might be exposed to the\nArrows of the Natives (who now lay in continual Ambuscade) and so they\nmight run the Hazard of losing more Men without the least Advantage to\nthemselves, or unhappy Companions.\nWherefore, this Project was laid aside, and the Winds often blowing\nhard, and the Captain not judging it safe to lye any longer in that open\nRoad, he weighed Anchor on the fourth of _December_, steering along\nashore, in Search of some Bay or Inlet, where they might ride shelter'd\nfrom the Wind and Weather; and still with a View that if either their\nCompanions might have an Opportunity of making their Escape, or the\nNatives should relent and think of letting them go for a Ransom, they\nmight be near enough to receive them. After about three or four Hours\ngentle Sail he dropp'd an Anchor, the Town of _Magadoxa_ then bearing N\nE b'E of them, they perceived it was all along a flat smooth Shore,\nwithout any Bay or other Shelter, for Ships to ride; wherefore, the next\nDay, which was the fifth of _December_, they stood off to Sea, and then\ncame to a Consultation, what Measures to take in their present\nCondition; and having considered that they had met with no Place where\nthey could ride with any Safety, and if they should meet with a\nconvenient Bay much farther down the Coast, it would be of no Service to\ntheir unhappy Companions, who would never hear of them; and besides they\ncould not venture to traffick with the Natives for Refreshments, for\nFear of Surprize and Treachery; and their Men beginning to grow weak and\ndistempered for want of fresh Provisions, they resolved to make for the\nIsland of _Joanna_, being forced to leave their Companions to\nProvidence, in great Trouble and Anxiety for their unhappy Fate.\nWe shall leave them to pursue their Voyage, which was happy enough,\nbating this Accident, and relate what had pass'd on Shore, as we had it\nfrom a Manuscript, written by the Molotto Interpreter, who was the only\nPerson who escaped, and return'd to _England_, after he had lived\nsixteen Years amongst the Barbarians.\nIt has been already taken Notice that Mr. _Baldwin_ the third Mate, and\nMr. _Sale_ the Purser (unhappily for them) not observing the Cautions\nthe Captain gave them to be upon their Guard, were so indiscreet, to be\ntempted to accept of an Invitation to dine with the King's Son; so that\nhaving sent the Yawl on Board again, for a Present as has been related,\nthey with the Molotto Interpreter went towards the Town, accompanied by\nseveral of the Natives, who made them the Invitation in the Name of the\nKing's Son. They were no sooner arrived at the first Gate of the City,\nbut they were surrounded by a great Multitude of People, and violently\ndragg'd into a little Door under the Gateway, and shut up in a dark\nHole. When they had remained here about the Space of two Hours, they\nheard a very great Noise without; soon after which, the Doors leading to\ntheir Dungeon were all opened, and they were dragg'd out again; when\nthey were out, they found that what occasioned that great Noise, was the\nReturn of their Men, whom they had sent on Board for a Present for the\nKing's Son, who were seized in the same Manner they had been, and being\nencompassed by such a Number of People, they lost them in a Minute; they\nwere also separated from one another, and the Molotto desiring to know\nof them the Meaning of all this, and in what they had offended them,\nthey only answered him, that they must go before the _Accabo_, (the Name\nby which they call the King, who had not been out of Town as they gave\nout before) accordingly he was conducted with a sufficient Guard,\nexpecting there to meet his Companions again.\nWhen he arrived at the King's House (which shall be hereafter described)\nhe was led thro' several Rooms to that where the King was present, whom\nhe found sitting upon the Ground, the Floor being matted; he was dress'd\nin a long Pair of Drawers of blewish purple Silk, which reach'd down to\nhis Toes, having neither Shoes nor Stockings on, a large Mantle of the\nsame Silk, and a white Turbant on his Head; there were eight others who\nsat about him, whose Dress was the same with his, as to Form and\nFashion, but their Drawers and Mantles were made of a blew and white\nstrip'd Dungeree Stuff, instead of Silk; these were his Councellors and\nFavourites. The King spoke to him in a Kind of _Arabick_, asking of what\nCountry he was? he answered of _Canton_ in _China_. Then he ask'd him,\nhow he came to associate himself with those horrid white Men? The poor\nMolotto began to tremble at this Question, but excus'd himself by\nspeaking in their Favour, highly extolling them for their Civility of\nBehaviour, as well as Generosity, and praising them in all Things to the\nKing, telling him, he was sure the Captain would ransom them, if it was\nhis Pleasure to consent to it; to which he returned no Answer, but ask'd\nwhat the Ship had in her, the Molotto gave him an Account of her Lading;\nthen he desired to know whether the rest of the Men would come on Shore,\nhe answered, he could not tell, but in Case they were suffered to return\nagain on Board, he was sure they would come on Shore, and that the\nCaptain himself designed to come and see the King, as soon as they\nshould return; but the King made no Offer of suffering that, but\ncommanded him to be carried back to Prison.\nThe Prison which they call _Haulaub_, is a square Stone-Building, about\ntwenty Foot high, and flat at Top, fronting one of their broadest\nStreets; there are no Windows or Iron Bars, as we see in our Prisons,\nbut there are several little Holes about eight or nine Inches square,\nquite thro' the Wall, thro' which, the Place within receives both Light\nand Air. Here the poor Molotto was put, very anxious about the Fate of\nhis poor Companions, whom he had not seen since their being separated at\ntheir first coming out of the Dungeon; wherefore, seeing an old Man\nlooking thro' one of the Holes before described, he enquired of him what\nwas become of them, who gave him this melancholy Account; that those who\ncame last out of the Boat, which were the four Sailors sent on Board the\nShip for the Present for the King's Son, were kill'd in the Streets by\nthe Multitude, and that making some Resistance, they were torn to\nPieces, every Man thinking himself happy that could procure a Piece of\ntheir Flesh, shewing a Bit of about two Ounces, which he begg'd of one\nwho had got a great Piece, which many of them eat; that they were all\nfrom their Childhood taught to have an Aversion to white Men, and that\nthese were the first that had been seen in the Memory of Man, that as to\nthe tall Man and the little Man which had been in the Dungeon with him\n(which were Mr. _Baldwin_ and Mr. _Sale_, the Mate and Purser) they were\nby the King's Order carried to the _Boderzau_ (a Place where Tygers and\nother fierce Beasts are kept for the King's Pleasure) and delivered up\nto be torn to Pieces by those Animals.\nThis was in Effect, the true Account of the most bloody Massacre that\nwas committed upon these unhappy Men; the Story of which, it may be\nimagined, must throw the poor Molotto into the utmost Consternation and\nFear, as imagining himself to be near suffering some cruel Death;\nsometimes he flattered himself that they would spare him, because of his\nbeing a Molotto, but on the other Side, when he reflected on his having\ngiven the white Men a good Character, he look'd upon himself to be a\ndead Man, thinking that alone was sufficient to destroy him.\nBetwixt these Doubts and Fears he pass'd the Night, in a Place all\ncovered with Nastiness, where there was not the least Conveniency for\neasing Nature, and where, had his Mind been at rest, it would have been\nhard for him to have slept. In the Morning a Man look'd thro' one of the\nHoles, and with great Joy in his Countenance, told him, there were more\nwhite Men coming on Shore; the Fellow did not relate it as good News to\nhim, but told it for the Pleasure they should have in destroying more of\nthem. The Molotto wish'd within himself, that he could have given Notice\nof what had pass'd, and some Advice to beware of themselves, but it was\nsafest for him to keep his Wishes to himself; therefore he said nothing.\nSome Hours after he was sent to go again before the King; now he thought\nhis Execution was at Hand, but when he was brought into the King's\nPresence, they put a Letter into his Hand, commanding him to tell what\nit meant, for that those who had come on Shore had stuck it upon a Pole,\nand went off before they could be spoke to. He saw at one Cast of an\nEye, that it was from the Captain, who talk'd of Ransom, and a sudden\nThought came into his Head, that if he had explained it to the King,\nthey would make him some Way instrumental, in decoying more of the Men\non Shore, in order to murder them; and knowing his Companions to be past\nall Ransom, he said he did not know the Ways of the white Men, and could\nnot understand what that meant. The King then ask'd him if he could\npersuade the white Men, who were at that Time lying at an Anchor, in\ntheir Boat some Distance from the Land, to come on Shore, he answered he\nwould endeavour to do it, if it was his Pleasure; upon which the King\nwhisper'd with some others, who were near him, but said no more of it,\nas being unwilling to trust him. And the Truth on't is, he designed to\ntell them what had pass'd, and if the Natives did not hold him fast, to\nthrow himself into the Sea, and venture to swim to them, not doubting,\nbut those in the Boat might with their Fire Arms, secure him from being\npursued, but they gave no Opportunity of making the Attempt.\nThe King then call'd for one of the Fire-Arms, which had been taken in\nthe Boat, and commanded him to shew them how they were to be used, which\nhe was forced to do; and they made use of them soon after, by firing at\nthe Boat as has been related. He was then carried back to Prison, and\ntalking with the Jaylor (whom in their Language they call _Kasboo_) he\nask'd him what he thought the King intended to do with him? The Jaylor\nanswered, he was sure he did not intend to have him kill'd, as the white\nMen had been, because he had ordered him to give him Food; this News a\nlittle revived his drooping Spirits, accordingly he brought him some\nPlantanes and Bonanas, which was the first Nourishment he had taken\nsince he came on Shore; and having refreshed himself therewith, and with\nan _Alabo_ of Water, that is, a Vessel not unlike a Pitcher, he begg'd\nfor something to clean the Place, the Jaylor brought him a Parcel of\ngreen Sticks tied together, which they call a _Tosee_, and serves for\nthe Use of a Broom; with this and a Thing like a Shovel, he made a Shift\nto sweeten the Place pretty well; when it was done, he observed an old\nMan looking thro' one of the Holes at him, with whom he fell into\nDiscourse, and enquired of him whether the Ship was gone, the old Man\ntold him no, but that there was another Boat with white Men lying off\nthe Land, and that there were great Numbers of People from the Town\nlying in Wait for their coming on Shore. He begg'd this old Man to get\nhim a few Palmatu Leaves to lay on the Floor under him, which the old\nMan did, so that that Night he rested very comfortably to what he had\ndone before.\nThe next Morning he was again sent for before the King, who ask'd him,\nif he could kill a _Coway_ with one of those Musquets? he answered he\ncould, and glad he was to be so employed, thinking by these Means he\nmight please the King, at least gain his Favour so far, as to induce him\nto spare his Life. He was led out to the River-side, the King himself\nbeing in Company, and one of the Musquets was put into his Hand, he took\nthe Ball and beat it into a great Length, and then divided it into small\nBits about the Size of Swan Shot, for he would not venture to shoot with\na single Ball, not knowing but his Life might depend upon the Success of\nhis Shoot, by these Means he kill'd one the first Shot. The King seemed\nvery well pleased, and made him charge the Piece again in the same\nManner, and taking it into his own Hands discharged it at another\n_Coway_ which he also kill'd.\nA _Coway_ is a fine beautiful Bird larger than a Swan, and not much\nunlike it in Shape, the Body is as white as Milk, but the Tuft it wears\non its Head, as also its Tail, are adorned with Variety of Colours, the\nBill is a little crooked, and uneven, its Legs of a fine Yellow, but its\nForm is best expressed by the Figure. They are in great Plenty always\nliving near the Water, hatching fourteen or fifteen young Ones at a\nTime, and set four Times a Year; they are excellent to eat, nor do they\ntaste at all fishy.\nAfter this, he was ordered back to his Prison, as he went along he ask'd\nthe Jaylor (with whom he was now grown more familiar) what he thought\nthe King intended to do with him. The _Kasboo_ or Jaylor told him, he\nbelieved he intended to keep him there till the Ship (which they call a\n_Schabew_) and the white Men were gone, and that then he would order him\nto be releas'd from his Confinement, and employ him in some Service. The\nJaylor seem'd to talk to him, and use him in a much kinder Manner than\nbefore; and when he arrived at the Prison, he brought him a _Patue_ (in\ntheir Language a Dish) of boiled Rice with Oyl, which is look'd upon to\nbe very good Food; he left him two large _Alaboes_ or Pitchers of Water,\nsufficient to drink and to clean his Kennel, after which, he took a\ncomfortable Nights Rest.\nThe poor Fellow now began to wish that the Ship was gone, since he had\nno Prospect of making his Escape, and that their Departure would procure\nhim greater Liberty. Next Morning seeing the old Man who had furnish'd\nhim with the Palmatu Leaves, looking thro' one of the Holes at him, he\nenquired of him, whether the Ship was still in Sight? He told him it\nwas, that there were still great Numbers of People lying behind the\nBank, having with them those Things which were taken in the Boats,\ndescribing the Musquets, and great Numbers of Arrows, ready to shoot if\nthey should either Land, or come near enough with their Ship; he begg'd\nof him to let him know what should happen, and particularly to inform\nhim when the Ship should go off: The old Man whose Name was _Morasab_,\nseem'd obliging and kind, and promised him to do so, and that he would\nreturn towards Night (which in their Language they call _Raham_.)\nA little after the _Kasboo_ or Jaylor came in, bringing some Plantanes\nand Bonana's to him for his Breakfast, and opened a Door which went into\na little back Yard, where there was a Spring of fine fresh Water,\nbidding him draw what Water he pleased in his _Alaboes_, and clean his\nPrison, leaving the Place open to him for that Purpose, there being no\nWay for him to get out; towards Evening he came to him again, bringing\nhim some boyl'd Rice and Oyl, and then he shut up the Door before\ndescribed, and leaving him Water enough, left him for that Night.\n_Morasab_ appeared at one of the Holes according to his Promise,\nacquainting him, that the Ship remained still in the same Station, and\nthat the Boat had not been seen near the Land that Day. Next Morning\n_Morasab_ came again, and with great Joy told him, the Ship was then\ngoing off, being under Sail; a little after the _Kasboo_ or Jaylor came\nin as usual, bringing some boyl'd Rice, and gave him the same Account of\nthe Ship.\nTho' he despaired now of ever getting off, yet he expected to be\nenlarged from his Prison, and enjoy Liberty, the sweetest Thing to Man.\nIn the Evening _Morazab_ came again to let him know, that the Ship was\nalmost out of Sight, and that the King had sent a Party of Men to the\nEast, and another to the West, to watch the Coast, and lye in Wait for\nthe white Men, in Case they should Land any where else for Water or to\nget Provisions. The next Day he came again and gave him Notice, that\nWord had been brought to the King that the Ship had been seen again a\ngreat Way off to the Westward, but that the Men had not come on Shore;\nand the Day following he visited him again, with an Account, that News\nwas brought to the King that the Ship was gone off again, and sail'd out\nof Sight.\nUpon this, he expected to be immediately releas'd from his Confinement,\nyet he was kept close to his Prison ten Days longer; the Reason as he\nafterwards found, was, least the Ship might be hovering somewhere upon\nthe Coast, and having his Liberty he might find an Opportunity of\nescaping to her; but when they seem'd pretty well assured that the Ship\nwas quite gone off, the King sent for him, and ask'd him, if he should\ngive him his Liberty, whether he would attempt to escape? He promised he\nwould not, and indeed any Attempt now would have been in Vain, for to\nescape would have been a Thing impossible; upon which, the King\nappointed him to attend upon his Person, and to live with his other\nServants, giving him Orders at the same Time not to go out of the City.\nThere was nothing at all uncomfortable in the Life he led here, for the\nService was easy, having very little to do; his chief Business was\ncarrying up the Pataes or Dishes for the King's Dinner, who eat upon the\nGround, the Floor being sometimes covered with a Mat instead of a Cloth,\nand sometimes bare without any Thing; the Diet was generally boiled\nRice, with broiled Meat, sometimes Venison, sometimes wild Goat; as also\nFowl of all Sorts, which are smaller than those of _Europe_, but of an\nexcellent Taste; they have also several Fowl not known to us; their Beef\nand Mutton are both excellent, but small; they also had Variety of Fish\nwhich they dress, either by boiling or broiling, as for Sawce, the King\nhimself had none, except _Kajan_, Pepper, for they eat most of their\nThings very hot, and boiled Rice is what serves them instead of Bread.\nThus he lived in Plenty, eating as much as he would of what was left,\nwhen the King had done Dinner, so that few People as to Eating and\nDrinking tasted so great a Variety as he did; the Diet of the common\nSort of People, consists generally of Plantanes, Bonana's, boiled Rice\n(which they call _Pasida_) and Oil, and a Dish they call _Kaja_, which\nis Plantanes and Rice boiled together, sometimes indeed they have\nVenison and wild Goat, which they kill themselves, but whatever it is,\nthey eat it out of the Crock it is boiled in, for none but those of\ngreat Condition have the Use of _Pataes_ or Dishes; if it be broiled,\nwhether it be Fish or Flesh, they eat it off the Coals, and to avoid\nburning their Fingers, they take a Bit of green Stick which they break\nhalf through, and so bending it together, it serves the Use of a Pair of\nTongues as well as a Fork, in turning the Meat upon the Coals as well as\ntaking it off when it is ready. As for Knives and Forks the King himself\nis not acquainted with the Use of them; so that he pulls his Meat to\nPieces with his Fingers, which is generally so well done that it\nrequires no great Labour.\nIt was about two Months before he ventured to stir abroad beyond the\nPalace; but one Day one of the Servants who had Business about the City,\nask'd him to go along with him, and in Discourse told him, the King\nwould not be displeas'd, if he should go out often; upon this\nEncouragement he used to walk about the City almost every Day, chusing\nthe Time when the King went to sleep, which was constantly his Practice\nevery Afternoon. He took this Liberty three or four Months together,\nsometimes being absent several Hours without receiving the least\nReprimand; he made an Acquaintance with several in the City, and had\nLeisure to satisfie his Curiosity, in observing every Thing that\nappeared new and strange, to one who had lived so long amongst the\n_Europeans_.\nThe City of _Magadoxa_ lies (as has been observ'd) in the Latitude of\none Degree and fifty one Minutes: It is built betwixt two Hills or\nrather on the Sides of two Hills, the greatest Part of it standing on\nthe Declivity of that Hill next the Sea, so that there is scarce any of\nit to be seen by any Ship in the Road, or that passes by, which indeed\nare but few; for scarce any ever touch there, except driven by 'Stress\nof Weather, as was the Case of the _Albemarle_. They have no Vessels of\ntheir own, except a few employ'd in Fishing, which they call Juncks, and\nnot above ten or twelve of those; and tho' some of them are large enough\nto carry thirteen or fourteen Ton, they never venture far from the Land.\nThe City contains betwixt three and four thousand Houses, some built of\nrough Stone, others of Marble, of which they have many Quaries,\nextreamly fine, and of various Colours, but they want the Art of\npolishing it; but the most esteemed and most expensive Houses, are those\nof rough Stone covered over with a Kind of Plaister, which is peculiar\nto this Country; after it is laid on, it is not above three Days in\ndrying, and grows as hard and durable as the Stone itself; but the\ngreatest Curiosity of it is, that they can make it of what Colour they\nplease; and as the Houses of all Persons of Condition are covered with\nit, it has a mighty pretty Effect to the Eye, for some have their Houses\nwhite, others red, some yellow, and some blue, that of the King was\ngreen, while the Inside is floor'd with the same Plaister, the Rooms all\ndiffering in Colour from each other, which Variety makes the City appear\nvery beautiful, tho' the Streets are very narrow and very nasty.\nNotwithstanding the Houses look so bright without Side, their Furniture\nwithin consists of very little more than Cobwebs, for they have neither\nTables, Chairs, nor Glasses, they have indeed Matts which serve them\ninstead of Table-Cloths by Day, and Beds by Night, upon which they lie\nwithout either Pillow or Bolster, with a Covering of Mokaz or thick\nDungeree over them, which is so call'd from a Tree of that Name, of the\nBark of which it is made, which being beaten, is drawn into long\nThreads, and wove or rather work'd with fine Needles made of Wood,\neither thick or thin, according to which it is intended; and to such a\nPerfection are they arrived in this Sort of Manufacture, that they can\nmake it as smooth, and as soft, as a Piece of _English_ Broad-Cloth, and\nmuch stronger.\nWe should have observed that they have no such Things as Glass-Windows\nto their Houses, however there are either large round or square\nVacancies in every Room to receive both Air and Light; these Sort of\nWindows are covered generally all Day with Shutters of thick Plank, in\nwhich many Holes are bored, in order to keep out the Heat of the Sun. As\nfor Chimneys they have no such Thing: In all great Houses there is a\nRoom appropriated for the Dressing the Victuals, where the Fire is made\nin a Corner upon the Ground, and those that are employ'd in that Service\nmust be well smoaked. The common People frequently make their Fires\nwithout Doors, for Rice and Fish they never eat without some Sort of\nDressing, but Flesh, to save Trouble and Fire, they frequently eat raw.\nThe King maintains nothing which has the State or Air of a Court, having\nno Guards about his Person, so that he frequently walks abroad in the\nStreets in the Dress before described, without either Shoes or\nStockings: All those that meet him pass him by, and go on upon their\nBusiness without shewing him any external Mark of Respect; nay so little\na Notion have they of Ceremony, that it is common for Persons of both\nSexes to ease Nature in the Streets, perhaps when the King is passing\nby, and yet he is as well obey'd as any Prince in the World.\nThe Nobility walk about in as careless a Manner as the King, and are\nknown by their Turbants; the better Sort of the common People wear Caps\nof various Colours, the Rest go intirely naked.\nThe Queen also walks about the Streets without either Guards or\nAttendants, and would pass as unregarded as the King, were it not that\nthe Gaiety of her Dress must draw the Eyes of the Spectators; she\ncommonly wears a Garment of either purple or green Silk, which being\ntied about her Waste reaches down to her Heels, with Variety of white,\nred, and green Feathers artfully disposed in her Hair, however she is\nbare-footed like the Rest, whilst all the poorer Sort of the Sex go\nquite naked, without thinking they carry any Thing about them they ought\nto be ashamed of.\nThe Wives of the Men of Condition indeed all wear Clothes, and are\ndress'd in the same Fashion with the Queen, tho' not all so gay or so\nrich; but whatever their Habits may be, they take Care always to shew\ntheir naked Breasts, which hang down to their Bellies, if they have had\nany Children; and which we suppose is look'd upon as a Beauty, by their\ntaking Care to expose them to View; they also paint the Nipples red,\nwhich is the only Art they use in setting off their Persons; they bring\ntheir Children into the World with little or no Pain, and without an\nHour's Confinement from the common Occupations of Life.\nThe only Occasion when the King appears with any Thing that looks like\nPomp or Magnificence is, when he rides abroad to take the Air, then he\nis mounted upon one of his Elephants, with his Favourites and Companions\nabout him; they have a Way of fixing upon the Back of the Elephant, a\nFrame of Boards about eight or ten Foot Square, on which, he, with such\nas he carries with him to bear him Company, sit as commodiously as if in\na Room, whilst two of his Servants on Foot conduct the Beast; yet even\nhere, tho' he goes thro' any Crowd of People, no Man stops to do him\nHomage, or to pay him any Sort of Obedience, nor does he seem to expect\nit, having no Notion, that the Subjects are to be kept in Awe by the\nShew of Grandeur which surrounds their Prince: A Mark of good Sense,\nbeyond what is to be met with in the Courts of _European_ Princes.\nHis Way of maintaining an inward Respect in the Hearts of the People\nwhich they have Sense enough to know, is preferable to that External\nwhich consist only in Shew and Appearance, and sometimes conceals\nContempt and Hatred at Bottom, is by doing Justice in his Person,\naccording to the best of his Judgment and Capacity; he is himself both\nKing and Judge, and decides all Disputes betwixt Man and Man (which\nindeed are very few) by a personal Hearing of the Cause of Complaint. He\nis assisted by seven or eight Persons, who always sit about him for that\nPurpose, and may be called his Councellors; nor was it ever so much as\nsuspected that any of these, either for Bribe, or Reward, or Promise,\nendeavoured to influence the King in his Judgment.\nIt rarely happens that any Persons is condemn'd to die; for as every\nThing they feed on, except Rice, Plantanes, Oil, _&c._ is acquired by\nhunting and fishing, there are few Occasions for Theft amongst them;\nhowever, when any Person has merited that Punishment, the common Way of\nexecuting is, by throwing the Criminal, into the Den (which they call\n_Bodyzaw_) amongst the wild Beasts, such as Tygers, Leopards, and\nCrocadiles which are kept hungry before-hand for that Purpose.\nThere are many other Creatures kept in that _Bodizaw_ or Den which are\npeculiar to this Country, such as the _Augazet_, which is the largest of\nall their Beasts, except the Elephant; it is of a white or rather\nyellowish Colour, with Streaks of Black running like Veins all over it,\nand also black Spots, the Face is not unlike that of a Cat, it has long\nsharp Claws; when it is wild, it is extreamly fierce, but may be\nrendered as gentle and tractable as a Household Dog.\nA _Bozee_ is an amphibious Creature, which always lives by the Sides of\nRivers, and feeds principally upon Fish; it has a long Bill, and in all\nRespects the Shape and Form of a Bird, but wants Wings to fly, and\ninstead of Feathers, is covered all over with a hard Scale resembling\nthe Bark of a Tree, and so tough that an Arrow will not enter it; their\nLegs are very thick and scaled in the same Manner with their Bodies,\nhaving sharp Claws to their Feet; the Natives are more afraid of this\nCreature than of any other in the whole Country, especially, if they are\nobliged to travel any where by Night, near the Sides of Rivers, for they\nsay it is so fierce and voracious, that it will seize either Man or\nBeast.\nThe _Massau_ is another amphibious Creature, very large, whose Body is\nscaly like that of the _Bozee_, but it is of a different Colour, being\nreddish; the Bill also differs from that of the _Bozee_, for it is short\nand shaped like that of a Pidgeon; It is a timorous Creature, that upon\nhearing the least Noise immediately rushes for the Water; its Food is\nchiefly Weeds.\nA _Sachew_ is a Beast about the Size of a large Lion, of a dark brown\nColour, with Shades of black all over the Body, and a Scale down his\nBack as hard as Horn, the Eyes are extreamly fierce, and in all Respects\na terrible Creature to look at, but yet a Child would frighten it.--At\nthe Sight of any human Creature it flies with great Swiftness to the\nWoods.\nOne of the King's Diversions is, to go to this _Bodizaw_ or Den of wild\nBeasts to see them play; they are perfectly under the Command of their\nKeepers, and are taught to play Tricks like Dogs; nay, it is almost his\nonly Diversion, unless sleeping half the Day can be called a Diversion.\nAs for riding out upon his Elephants, as we took Notice before, he does\nit so seldom, it can scarce be reckon'd amongst his Pleasures.\nEase, Plenty, and the Heat of the Climate have render'd the People in\ngeneral inclined to be slothful, they have no Trade with the\nNeighbouring Nations, nor do they desire to have any; it is true, they\nhave a little Sort of Traffick amongst themselves, as those that hunt\nand shoot Goats, Venison, _&c._ give them often in Exchange for Dungeree\nStuffs; they have also Gold and Silver amongst themselves, but very\nbase;--they don't seem inclined to Cruelty, unless against white Men,\nwhom they are taught to hate, tho' they scarce ever see any; but there\nis a Kind of historical Tradition amongst them (for they have no Books)\nthat their Country was once invaded by white Men, who committed many\nCruelties upon them, and indeed it is likely that the _Portuguese_ might\nformerly have landed amongst them, while they were making their _India_\nDiscoveries, and perhaps might have treated them like Slaves, from\nwhence comes this Tradition, and which is the Case of their inbred\nHatred to white Men to this Day.\nThus the Molotto had Leisure to divert himself with observing the\nCustoms and Manners of these strange People, who have no Commerce or\nCommunication with the Rest of the World. One Day as he was walking in\nthe City, he was extreamly surpriz'd and terrified at the Sight of a\nBird of a monstruous Size, which stalk'd close by him in the Street: It\nwas what they call a _Pyone_, but he had never seen one of them before,\nso that tho' it is tame and inoffensive, it is no Wonder he should be\nfrighten'd at it.\nA _Pyone_, as to Shape, differs from all Birds amongst us; their Colour\nis a whitish brown, and in the Pinion of each Wing they have five black,\nand five scarlet Feathers, very broad, and above a Foot long; their Legs\nare of a bright red, something small for so large a Body, and above\nthree Foot in Length; their Necks are also extreamly long, so that from\nthe Foot to the Top of their Heads they are generally ten Foot in\nHeighth; they breed in the Mountains, never sit on more than two Eggs at\na Time, which always produce a Male and Female: The People catch them\nwhen they are young, and let them loose in the Streets, taking Pleasure\nin the Sight of them, for they do no Mischief, and feed on any Thing\nthey can pick up.\nHe was so encouraged by this Indulgence which was shew'd him, that he\nthought he might go where he pleased, and that the Restriction which was\nlaid upon him, was as good as taken off; wherefore, he was tempted by\nhis Curiosity one Day to walk out of the City, and was seen by a great\nmany People. The Day following the _Accabo_ or King, with a stern\nCountenance, ask'd him if he had been out of the City? He was so\nterrified at his Looks, knowing also, that he had been commanded not to\ntake that Liberty, that he was not able to answer: The King's Son who\nwas present, smilingly ask'd him, why he did not speak? This recovered\nhim a little from his Astonishment, so that he had the Courage to own he\nhad; then the King with a more pleasing Aspect, desired to know of him,\nwhether he had been to see his _Moorzacks_, or Tombs, he answered no;\ntho' he had a great Desire of seeing them, because he had heard much\nTalk of them. So the Thing pass'd over without any farther Reprimand for\nthis Time.\nThe next Day in the Afternoon, the King rid out on an Elephant in the\nManner before described, ordering the Molotto to attend him, and went to\nvisit the _Moorzacks_, or Monuments of his Ancestors, which are situated\nabout three or four Miles from the City: The Magnificence and Beauty of\nthese Tombs, are almost incredible, considering that it is in a Country\nof _Barbarians_ that they are made; the Molotto was greatly surprized at\ntheir extraordinary Grandeur; the King took Notice of his Astonishment,\nand was not displeased at it, and enquiring of him how he liked them,\nthe Molotto answered, he had never seen any Thing equal to them, in all\nhis Life, and that he believed Strangers would travel from all Parts of\nthe World to see them, did they but know such Things were there. The\nKing then enquired of him concerning the Tombs of the white Men, and\nask'd several Questions about the Ceremonies used in Funerals in all the\nCountries he had been in; the Molotto gave him the best Account he\ncould, still extolling the Beauty of these Monuments above those of all\nthe World. The King then enquired of him whether he knew how Gunpowder\nwas made, he answered no; that it was made by the white Men, and that he\nwas but little acquainted with their Ways. He answer'd in this Manner,\nknowing that if he should speak with Respect of white Men, it might do\nhim some Prejudice, because of the Aversion he found they had towards\nthem. Upon the whole, the King appeared pleased with the Conversation of\nthis Day, and the Molotto fancied he should grow into Favour.\nBut two or three Days after, an Accident happened which put him again\ninto a Fright, going out to walk as usual, he ventured as far as the\n_Moorzacks_, or Tombs, for he took a singular Pleasure in the Sight of\nthem. It happened in the mean Time that they wanted him, he was not to\nbe found in the King's House, or about the City; upon which, there were\nseveral Persons sent in Search of him different Ways, one of them found\nhim among the _Moorzacks_, or Tombs, and brought him home, he was\ndismally frightened, when he understood the King's Displeasure;\nwherefore, as soon as he came into his Presence, he fell down upon his\nFace, as is practiced by those with whom he is displeased. The King\nask'd him in an angry Tone where he had been? he answered at the\n_Moorzacks_, or Tombs; then the King enquired of those that had been\nsent in Search of him, whether it was true, they assured him they had\nfound him there; upon hearing of which, he seemed to be immediately\npacified, and said to him (_Korah_) which signifies properly to rise,\nbut is never said, except when he forgives. Then the King ask'd him, if\nhe would not attempt to run away, provided he should appoint him to live\nconstantly among the Guards, who were maintained for watching those\nMonuments? he answered no; and that he should be pleased to pass the\nRemainder of his Days in so delightful a Place, without ever having a\nWish for seeing his own Country again.\nFor this Time he was dismiss'd, but next Day being call'd up before the\nKing, he was told that he must go to the _Moorzacks_, or Tombs, there to\nwait and do Duty as one of the Guards; there was a _Bamzau_ or Priest\nsent along with him, who was to instruct him in his Duty there. On the\nWay as he went, the _Bamzau_ or Priest told him, that he must live\nconstantly among the Monuments, and that he would have Meat, Drink, and\nLodging provided for him without any Trouble, that he must not take the\nLiberty of coming to the City, or going beyond the Bounds prescribed,\nwhich the Rest of the Guards whom they call _Passaus_ would shew him;\nthat he must be obliged to watch every second Night, to take Care that\nthe Lamps which burnt in the Tombs were supplied with Oil, and never\nwent out, and to keep the Tombs from any Filth or Nastiness.\nWhen they arrived at the Place, the _Bamzau_ or Priest commanded all the\n_Passaus_ or Guards to be called together, acquainting them that the\nKing had sent this Molotto amongst them to do the same Duty, and ordered\none whom he called out from amongst the Rest, to return to the King with\nhim, it being the King's Pleasure that the Molotto should supply his\nPlace. This was readily obeyed, and they departed together.\nThe _Passaus_ or Guards received him civilly enough, they immediately\nbegan Acquaintance with him, explaining to him all the Particulars of\ntheir Duty, and shewed him the Bounds within which he was to confine\nhimself; telling him if he pass'd those Limits, they must be obliged to\nkill him. This Order seemed a little too severe, but he fancied it was\nonly said to terrify him, least he should take it into his Head to\nattempt an Escape; he flattered himself so for two Reasons, First,\nbecause of the Indulgence which had been shewn him when he ventured to\nexceed his Orders in going out of the City; and secondly he took Notice\nthat the _Bamzau_ or Priest spoke to the _Passaus_ or Guards apart,\nwhich he fancied was instructing them to keep him in Ignorance as to the\nTruth of their Orders; they brought some boiled Rice and Oil cold, and\ntold him he must watch that Night, because it was the Turn of the Person\nin whose Place he was come; in order to which, they brought him a\nWatch-Coat made of Hair, which they work very curiously with Needles, so\nthat the whole Coat is of one entire Piece without a Seam; it hangs from\nthe Shoulders down to the Ground, but has no Sleeves, so that it is more\nlike a Cloak than a Coat.\nThe Sun being set, which is the Time they enter upon the Watch, every\ntwo Men began to fix their _Pohalick_, over against the Door of the\n_Moorzack_ they were to watch; but to understand this Matter, it will be\nnecessary to explain what a _Pohalick_ is,--A _Pohalick_ is a Kind of a\nTent, contrived to shelter them from the Inclemencies of the Weather,\nfor the Nights are sometimes very cold there, especially if it rains;\nwherefore, they take four Poles of about eight Foot long, which, instead\nof fixing in the Ground, are plac'd in four Stone-Sockets, placed on\nPurpose, opposite to each _Moorzack_, for that Use, with Cross-Poles\nreaching from one to the other; but instead of Canvass they hang over it\na Covering of Palmatu Leaves sewen together; the two oldest Standers\nhave their Post opposite to the King's _Moorzack_, the Rest are posted\naccording to their Seniority, for they are exact Observers of the Rules\nof Precedence; the youngest also in each Pohalick, fetches Wood for\nFire, which is also absolutely necessary, as well to keep off the\nMusketoos which would be, otherwise, very troublesome, as to correct the\nDamps. As soon as the Sun rises, he also takes down the Pohalick, sweeps\nup the Ashes very clean, which remain of the Fire, and carries them\naway, that the Place may appear perfectly neat. It is his Duty also to\ngo to the _Bankoos_ (so they call the Steward of the _Moorzacks_) for\nthe Provision of the Day, which he is afterwards to dress both for\nhimself and his Comrade.\nThis Part of the Duty was not disagreeable to the Molotto, for having no\nBooks to read, he would have grown melancholly for Want of something to\ndivert his Time, had he been entirely idle; their Allowance of Provision\nwas sufficient, and very good in its Kind. On _Sundays_ and _Tuesdays_\nit was Flesh, either Beef, Mutton, or Goat, and Rice for Bread. On\n_Wednesdays_, Kaja (we have already told what that is) _Mondays_ and\n_Fridays_, Fish and Plantanes. _Thursdays_ and _Saturdays_ Plantanes,\nRice, and Oil. Their Fish was excellent in its Kind, but they usually\ndress'd it without taking out the Guts, and which they eat with it\ninstead of Sauce, but the Molotto corrected this Part of their Cookery,\nand having gutted the Fish before he broiled it, he found his Comrades\nvery well pleas'd, and they always managed it so after.\nWhile he pass'd his Life here pleasantly enough, one Day the _Accabo_,\nor King, sent a Guard to fetch him to the City; he was extreamly\nfrightened at this unexpected Turn, and enquired of those that conducted\nhim, into the Meaning of it, but they could give him no Account of it,\nbut hurried him along very quick; when they arriv'd at the City, they\ndid not carry him before the _Accabo_, or King, as he expected, but\nconducted him strait to the _Haulob_, or Prison, where he had been\nbefore confined. He had not been there above two Hours when his old\nFriend _Morasab_ came to make him a Visit, whose Opinion he ask'd\nconcerning his Confinement, _Morasab_ told him, he judged it to be for\nno other Reason, than because there had been a _Schabew_, or Ship, seen\nthat Morning at a great Distance off the Coast, that there were Men on\nthe Hills then watching of her, and others lying in Wait to surprize any\nthat should attempt to come on Shore. While they were in Discourse, the\n_Kasboo_ or Jaylor came in with some boiled Rice and Fish, and confirmed\nwhat _Morasab_ had told him, and cheared him up by assuring him, that no\nHarm was intended him, that he was only confined to prevent his making\nhis Escape. The Molotto knowing that every Thing he should say, would be\ntold again the King, because any Person may speak to him with the utmost\nFreedom at any Time, except when he is sitting in Judgment, told the\n_Kasboo_, that he had given over all Thoughts of visiting his native\nCountry more, having neither Wife nor Children; nor was he desirous of\nseeing any other Part of that Country, having taken a firm Resolution to\nobey the Orders very punctually of never going beyond the Limits of the\n_Moorzacks_; the _Kasboo_ told him, that if he had any Value for his\nLife, it would be best for him to do so, for if he should at any Time be\ncatch'd attempting any Escape, he would be served just as the white Men\nhad been, the Molotto answered he should deserve it, since the King had\nbeen so gracious to him, not only to give him his Life, but to appoint\nhim to live in a Place which he liked above any Thing he had ever seen.\nAll this Discourse was reported that Night to the King, the Consequence\nof which was, that he was sent for the next Morning; the first Question\nthe King ask'd him was, whether that _Shabew_ or Ship which had appear'd\nin Sight, was the same in which he came? He answered, he could not tell,\nunless he was to see it, (but that could not be done now, for she was\ngone off without coming to an Anchor, or sending her Boat on Shore.) The\nKing then ask'd him, whether he had a Desire to return back to the\n_Moorzacks_? He answered, it was what he longed for of all Things, and\nrepeated the same Things concerning the Pleasure he took in that Place,\nwhich he had done before to the _Kasboo_; he found this tickled the\nKing's Vanity, and put him into good Humour, wherefore, he commanded him\nto be conducted back, whither he arrived with a much lighter Heart than\nhe left it, having the Satisfaction also of seeing his Comrades mighty\nwell pleas'd at his safe Return amongst them.\nHere he pass'd his Time without any Care, having every Thing provided\nfor him, being at Leisure all the Day long to divert himself as he\nwould, for except taking his Watch in his Turn, he had nothing to do,\nbut to clean the _Moorzacks_ every new Moon, both within and without,\nand to take Care that the Lamps around them should be supplied with Oil,\nand never go out.\nHe observ'd his Companions employed their Leisure Time all in some Work,\nmost of them in making some little Curiosities, which the Towns-People\nused to walk out, and buy of them, and which enabled them to purchase\nLiquor and other Things they had an Inclination for; his Comrade in\nparticular used to amuse himself with making Fishing-Nets, but these\nNets are very different from those used in _Europe_, they are made of\nSea-Grass, wove out into a certain Length, and the Fisherman before he\nuses them, fastens to them a certain Number of Hooks (for they are\nignorant of the Art of contriving Nets to catch Fish without Hooks) his\nComrade with a great Deal of Ease used to make one of these a Week, and\nhe observing how he work'd them, did not doubt but he could do the same;\ntherefore he begg'd of his Comrade to give him a little of his\nSea-Grass, with which he began to make Trial, and succeeded so well,\nthat in a few Days he finished a Net, which he truck'd away for a\nQuantity of Sea Grass.\nHe was now set up for a new Trade, and was so industrious in it, that he\nwork'd his Nets with much more Curiosity than any of his Partners, and\nof Consequence had better Business; so that in a little Time he was able\nto purchase a Piece of Dungeree Linnen with his own Earnings, of which\nhe made himself a Wastecoat after the _English_ Fashion, and a Pair of\nlong Drawers; but he had not worn them above a Day or two when the\n_Bankoo_, or Steward of the _Moorzacks_, commanded him to leave off the\nWastecoat, that he might appear like the rest, who wore nothing but a\nPiece of any Stuff they could get, about their Wastes, to cover their\nNakedness.\nUpon the whole, he found he should have no great Occasion to provide for\nhis Back, which occasioned his being less diligent in his Work; however,\nhe purchased a _Mohaz_ Covering to keep him warm in the Night, with the\n_Bankoo_'s Permission, and happening to talk sometimes with his Comrades\nabout Nets, and describing how they were made in _Europe_, the _Bankoo_\nasked him if he could make one in the same Manner? But finding he was\nnot to lay out his Earnings to please himself, he answered, he could\nnot; however, an Accident fell out soon after which brought him into\ngreat Favour.\nAs it was Part of his Duty to go to the _Bankoo_'s generally in the\nMorning, for the Allowance of Provision for the Day for himself and\nComrade, he observed, that tho' their Allowance was sufficient in all\nother Respects, it was very short as to Salt. One Day, when they had\nPlantanes, Rice and Oil, he begg'd hard for a little more Salt, but the\n_Bankoo_ told him it could not be done without defrauding some of the\nrest, for Salt is exceeding scarce amongst them, having no Way of making\nit, nor any Way of providing it but by searching among the Rocks, near\nthe Sea Side, where they pick it up in Bits about the Bigness of a Nut,\nand sometimes larger; here Nature makes it by the continual beating of\nthe Sea in one Place; but the Quantities they are able to procure this\nWay are very small; wherefore, finding himself disappointed, he happened\nto say, that if he was at Liberty he could make Salt as plenty in\n_Magadoxa_ as it was in _Europe_. The _Bankoo_ the same Day acquainted\nthe _Accabo_ with what he had said, so that the next Day he was sent\nfor: He was no sooner arrived in the Presence of the _Accabo_ but he\nimmediately asked him if he could make Salt? He answered, he believed he\ncould, (and the Truth on't was he had often seen it made.) At the same\nTime he described the Manner of making it. The _Accabo_ immediately\norder'd him to go to Work, and to have what Assistance he requir'd; he\ndid so, and was so industrious and successful in it, that in six Months\nSalt was as plenty amongst them as any where else.\nThe _Accabo_ sent for him again, and inquired of him concerning\nFishing-Nets, as they were used in _Europe_: He described them to him;\nupon which he asked him if he could make one of them? He had been asked\nthe same Question before by the _Bankoo_, and denied that he had any\nSkill that Way; but considering with himself now that since he was\nlikely to pass his whole Life amongst these People, it was his Business\nto gain their Favour all the Ways he could, he answered, he never had\nmade any; however, if he (the _Accabo_) thought fit, he would try and do\nthe best he could.\nThe _Accabo_ seemed mightily pleased with his Willingness, and asked him\nif he should want any to assist him? He answered he should, and desired\neight Persons to be employed in Spinning, and six in Knitting. These\nPeople were to follow his Directions, accordingly they fell to Work,\nand, in the Space of two Months, finished a Net eighty Fathom long.\nWhen it was finished the _Accabo_ himself had a Mind to see what Effect\nit would have beyond their own Nets; accordingly he went on board one of\ntheir Junks, attended by his Favourites, having with him also several of\ntheir most experienced Fishermen: They had the good Luck to take a good\nNumber of Fish the first Hawl, among which were several Sorts they had\nnever before seen, being such Fish as will not take the Hook, and such\nas always keep deep in the Water. The _Accabo_ appeared highly contented\nwith this Success, and ordered several more of them to be made, which\ncould be done without him now that he had shewn them a Way, so that Fish\nsoon became infinitely more plenty than ever it had been before.\nThe Molotto expected no less than to be rewarded with some extraordinary\nRecompence for the publick Services; the least Favour he thought could\nbe granted him would be to give him the Liberty of a Freeman, and to let\nhim live as an Inhabitant of the City, and to get his living amongst\nthem, by any Sort of Industry he could; but he found himself greatly\nmistaken, for all his Reward consisted in being sent back to the\n_Moorzacks_, upon the same Foot he had been before.\nIt is true, he passed his Time here with a great deal of Tranquility,\nand began to reconcile himself to the Thoughts of remaining there his\nwhole Life, he was convinced that nothing he could do to ingratiate\nhimself, would procure him any Favour or Liberty; and an Accident fell\nout which gave him a terrible Notion of their Severity: One of the\n_Passaus_ or Guards, on a Night when it was not his Turn to be upon the\nWatch, went privately into the City, contrary to Orders, and returned\nagain before it was Day, but not so privately but he was seen by some\nPerson, who went and discovered it to the _Accabo_; the Consequence of\nwhich was, that he was sent for under a Guard the next Morning, and,\nbeing brought into the King's Presence, was, without any more Ceremony,\nexecuted in the following Manner: He was obliged to kneel down, leaning\nhis Head forwards, whilst the Executioner, with a heavy Bar of Timber,\nstruck him on the lower part of his Head, and beat out his Brains.\nThis Example so terrified the poor Molotto, that in fifteen Years he was\nin that Place he never ventured beyond the Limits, except when he was\nsent for by the _Accabo_, or to attend a Burial, which he was obliged to\ndo when any of the _Passaus_ or Guards died, for they were not buried\namong the _Moorzacks_, no more than any of the other of the common\nPeople.\nBut it is Time that we describe this Place, which is not only the\ngreatest Curiosity of this Country, but would pass for a Piece of\nMagnificence in those Nations where Arts and Sciences are known, and it\nis fit to be the more particular in it, as it may appear strange, that\nthose People who are Barbarians in all other Respects, should observe so\nmuch Pomp and Decoration in their funeral Ceremonies.\nThis burying Place, which they call _Hoynatz_, is pleasantly situated in\na beautiful Valley between two Hills, about two _English_ Miles from the\nCity of _Magadoxa_; there are in it twenty nine _Moorzacks_, or Tombs,\nall which were first built by the Kings, at whose Expence the _Passaus_\nor Guards are kept, their being four to each _Moorzack_, who watch two\nand two by Turns, who take Care of the Lamps, which continually burn\nwithin, and keep every Thing clean to the greatest Nicety.\nTho' these _Moorzacks_ may be said properly all to belong to the King,\nyet several other Persons of the first Rank are buried in them, by the\nKing's special Favour, for he sometimes gives a _Moorzack_ to some\nFavourite, as a burying Place for his Family; notwithstanding which\nGift, when any of the said Family dies, the King's Permission must be\nasked anew for burying him in the _Moorzack_, the Reason is, that it\nfrequently happens that when a Person who has this Kind of Right to be\nburied in a _Moorzack_ disobliges the King, he takes no Notice of it as\nlong as the Party lives; but when he dies, he forbids him to be buried\nin the _Moorzack_, by way of Punishment.\nThis may shew what a Veneration they have for these Places, when they\nseem to think that all Happiness, as well as Honour, consisted in laying\nthe Body after Death in one of these _Moorzacks_; and, indeed, it is one\nof the chief Pleasures of the King, as well as of the common People to\nvisit these Places often, which they do with a Kind of religious\nRespect.\nThe largest _Moorzack_ or Tomb of all is the King's own, no other Person\nbeing ever buried therein; it is eighty Foot square, built of black and\nwhite Marble mix'd, with a Kind of Cupola at Top, and over it a long\nSpire, the Inside, both Floor and Sides, is white Marble curiously\npolished, and the Cieling or Cupola painted green: There are in it forty\nfive _Boozes_ of Gold, standing on as many Pedestals of black Marble, of\nabout four Foot high.\nA _Booze_ is a kind of round Pot with a Cover, about eight Inches deep,\nand five Diameter, in which are placed the Ashes of the Dead of those\nthat are deposited there; I say the Ashes, because the Bodies are first\nburned.\nThere are also sixteen large Lamps of Gold, with nine Lights to each,\nfour in a Corner, and one large one in the Middle, with two Lights; the\nlarge ones are never lighted but at Funerals, when they make a fine\nShew, but that in the Middle burns constantly.\nBy the forty five _Boozes_, wherein are deposited the Ashes, it may be\nconjectured that as many of their Kings lie there, and so the Molotto\nwas informed.\nThe second for Largeness belongs to the _Cossues_ or Queens, (for, it\nmust be observed, that the Males and Females are never buried in the\nsame _Moorzack_:) It is built all of white Marble, and is fifty nine\nFoot square, the inside Wall exactly the same with the outside, but the\nFloor is of black and white Marble laid in Squares, much like what may\nbe seen in Noblemens Houses in _Europe_. There are fifty six _Boozes_ of\nGold, standing on black Marble Pedestals; there are twelve large Lamps,\neach with seven Lights, three in each Corner, and one of Silver in the\nMiddle, which burns constantly, as in the King's.\nThe third belongs to the _Acobibs_, or Princes; it is also built of\nwhite Marble; its Form is exactly round, being seventy nine Foot in\nCircumference; there are in it fifty three _Boozes_ standing on black\nMarble Pedestals, with thirteen Lamps of Silver with seven Lights each;\ntwelve of them are plac'd in a circular Form, and the thirteenth in the\nMiddle, which burns constantly, the Cieling is painted green.\nThe fourth belongs to the _Matotzes_ or Princesses; It is built of a\ngreenish Marble, vein'd with black, being of a circular Form like that\nof the _Acobibs_ or Princes, and much about the same in Circumference;\nthe inside Wall is of white Marble; the Floor of various Colours, as\nblack, white, and green; and the Cieling which is made in the Form of a\nCupola, is yellow: It hath sixty four _Boozes_, standing on Pedestals of\nblack and white Marble, and eight large Silver Lamps with seven Lights\nto each, placed in a circular Form, besides one in the middle which\nburns constantly.\nThe fifth belongs to the _Foramzeps_ or Male Children of the Prince; it\nis built of a white Marble, with large black Veins in it, both the\ninside Wall and Floor being of a light grey Marble; it is thirty Foot\nsquare, having nineteen _Boozes_ of Gold, and sixty of Silver, standing\non Pedestals of the same Sort of Marble, with the outside Wall; there\nare in it eight large Silver Lamps, hanging two in each Corner, besides\none in the middle which burns continually.\nThe sixth _Moorzack_ belongs to the _Squeenzibs_ or Female Children of\nthe Prince; it is built of a curious red Marble, with Veins of white\nrunning thro' it, and is twenty eight Foot square, the inside Wall and\nFloor being of white Marble; it has a hundred and nineteen _Boozes_ of\nSilver standing on Pedestals of a blewish grey Marble; it has eight\nSilver Lamps disposed two in a Corner, besides one in the middle that\nburns continually.\nAll these here taken Notice of, belong to those of the King's own Blood,\nbut as it may seem a little too tedious to be particular in the\nDescription of them all, we shall only observe who the great Persons\nare, who are distinguished by having _Moorzacks_ assigned to them alone,\nor to their Families.\nFirst, There is one appointed for the burying Place of the _Baamzan_ or\nchief Priest; one to the _Baulumzu_ or Treasurer; one to the\n_Jocybauthaux_ or chief Councellor; one to the _Moorenzep_ or Head\nGeneral;--one to the _Caffa_ or Secretary;--one to the _Paremzebs_,\nwhich are a few People so called by Way of Title, and are their chief\nNobility;--one to their Wives, whom they call _Tepshoyes_;--one to the\n_Morepzus_ or Generals of the Elephants;--one to the _Hammons_ or\nGovernors of Towns;--one to the _Hoyzepa_ or Head Teacher of the\nElephants;--one to the _Sancof_ or Head Doctor.\nThere is also one particularly kept for such as not being otherwise\nintitled to this Honour, shall perform some brave Action in the\nWar--there is one belonging to the _Zanshaw_ or Master of the King's\nMusick--One to the _Divatzabowes_ or Concubines of the King--One to the\n_Panpuzams_ or Male Children of the King's Concubines--One to the\n_Parrasquas_ or Male Children of the High Priest--One to the _Gauzets_\nor Wives of the chief General--One to the _Matotzas_ or Wives of the\nGovernors of Towns--One to the _Hoydenebs_ or Wives of the\nTreasurer--One to the _Okenzegs_ or Wives of the chief Councellor.\nBut when I mention a _Moorzack_ to belong to the Treasurer, or to the\nGeneral, it must not be understood to be for the Use of him and his\nHeirs, but the next Person who succeeds in his Post is to be buried\nthere, and his Heirs are no Ways intitled, unless they happen to succeed\nhim in his Post.\nThese are all built of Marble of different Colours, some larger, and\nsome less, some square, others quite round, some having a small Spire at\nTop, and others without; yet the Ornaments within are as rich in many of\nthem, as in those belonging to the King or Prince--As for Example, in\nthe _Moorzack_ of the _Baamzan_ or high Priest, of the _Baumlozn_ or\nTreasurer, of the _Morewzep_ or General, and of the _Caffa_ or\nSecretary, the _Boozes_ are all Gold; in others there are some of Gold\nand some of Silver, and considering what a great Number there are of\nthem, these Monuments contain a vast Wealth.\nWhen the King, Prince, or any other Person who is intitled to a Place in\none of these Monuments dies, the Corps is immediately stripp'd naked,\n(let it be Man or Woman) after which, it is laid upon a Bier, and a thin\nPiece of Purple Silk being thrown over it, it is carried to be lain in\nState for some Days to a certain House, or Hall, built for that Purpose,\na little Way without the City.--This Building consists of one large\nRoom, sixty Foot in Length, and twenty six broad, being thirty Foot\nhigh, and flat at Top; the Stone is a curious white Marble, it is\nilluminated within with a great Number of Silver Lamps; in the middle\nstands a white Marble Table, supported by six Marble Pedestals about\nthree Foot high, on which is laid the Body.\nWhen they intend to remove it to the _Hoynabs_ or burying Place, they\nexactly observe the Setting of the Sun; at which Time comes the chief\nPriest, attended by all those who have a Right to be buried in these\nPlaces (for no others must assist upon these Occasions) and drawing out\na sharp Instrument, which they call a _Mockdoo_, and which serves the\nUse of a Knife, he opens the Body of the deceas'd, takes out the Heart,\nand delivers it into the Hands of the nearest Relation, who stands ready\nfor that Purpose, at the Priest's right Hand; when this is done, the\nBody is carried to the lower End of the Hall, where a Fire is prepared\nin a Hole, five Foot deep in the Ground, and about as many broad; the\nBody is put into the said Fire, where it is consumed; then the Heart is\nagain delivered into the Hands of the Priest, who places it in a little\nStone-Pot, and puts it into the Fire, where it remains till it is dried\nto a Powder; then the Ashes of the Body being dried up, are put into the\n_Booze_, as is also the Heart; after which, they proceed to the\n_Hoynatz_, the nearest Relation carrying the _Booze_. When they arrive\nat the _Moorzack_, which upon this Occasion is all illuminated, the\n_Booze_ is again delivered into the Hands of the Priest, who going into\nthe _Moorzack_ alone, shuts the Door after him, he remains a Quarter of\nan Hour, places the _Booze_ upon the Pedestal prepared for it, and then\nreturns, which makes an End of the whole Ceremony.\nAll this is done without a Word; nor is there any Sign of Sorrow or\nLamentation amongst the Kindred, of the deceas'd, nor is it the Custom\never to speak of him, or name him at all after he is dead.\nThus we have given an Account of the Order and Ceremonies of their\nFunerals, and of the Magnificence of their Monuments, which make a most\nglorious Shew at a Distance, nor are they less beautiful when near, the\nMaterials of which they are built being very fine, and their Scituation\ndelightful.\nBut as to their Religion we can give but imperfect Accounts, for they\nscarce know what it is themselves; they never ask'd the Molotto one Word\nconcerning his Religion, and when he enquired of theirs, they had very\nlittle to say about it, but told such an incoherent Story, that he could\nmake neither Head nor Tail of it. There is a Mosque or Temple about half\na Mile out of the City, of which they give a fabulous Account, as that\nit was built in one Night, but no Man could tell how, or by whom; but\ntheir general Opinion was, that it was built by _Hios_ God of the Sea,\nand at certain Times they used to flock, and pay a Kind of Devotion\nthere, but they could not tell why or wherefore. However by the best\nObservations our Molotto could make, it appear'd to him as if they had\nseveral Worships amongst them, for he took Notice that some paid their\nDevotions to a little Image, not unlike a Wolf, which they kept in their\nHouses, and which are so common, that the poorer Sort of People make\nthem of Bits of Wood, of about four or five Inches long, and sell them\nabout the Streets.\nThey bear no Sort of Hatred or Antipathy to Christians, as Christians,\nas we see the _Turks_ and most of the Sects of _Mahomet_ do; but the\nTruth on't is, they do not know what a Christian is, yet (as we observed\nbefore) they are bred up in a Notion that white Men are all a Kind of\nMonsters, and they hate and detest them, as we do Toads or other\npoisonous Creatures, not for their Religion, but their Colour. In\nRespect to one another they observe the Laws of Society very well, and\nperhaps there is less Fraud and fewer Acts of Injustice committed\namongst them, than in any Christian Country we can name. So that our\nMolotto who was now in a Manner naturaliz'd amongst them, and whose\nComplexion was black enough not to appear odious and terrible to them,\nwas as well used as the rest of the _Passaus_ or Guards, or any other\nPerson of equal Rank with him.\nIt is certain he once flattered himself with the Hopes of being placed\nin a better Condition of Life amongst them, or being set at full\nLiberty, by Way of Recompence, for his instructing them in some useful\nThings, which proved of publick Advantage to them, but he had long laid\naside those vain Thoughts, for he found the _Accabo_ had no Notion of\nGenerosity, or Gratitude: He, therefore, with a Kind of Philosophy,\nseem'd to confine his Wishes to that melancholy quiet Life he was\nobliged to lead within the Limits of the _Moorzacks_, till an Accident\nfell out, which quite changed his Sentiments in this Respect, and which\nproves how natural the Love of Liberty is to Man.\nIt happened that the _Hamman_ or Governor of the Town of _Saeni_, a\nPlace about twenty Leagues to the Eastward of _Magadoxa_, in the same\nKingdom of _Zanguebar_, having committed some Violences, by which he got\nthe ill Will of the People, they rose against him, and kill'd him. This\nNews was no sooner brought to _Magadoxa_, than the _Accabo_, tho' he\nkeeps no Army or Guards, except the _Passaus_ to watch the _Moorzacks_,\nimmediately rais'd a Body of two thousand Men, arm'd with Bows and\nArrows, and march'd in Person at the Head of them, to suppress the\nRebels. The second Days March, Advice was brought him that the _Schabew_\nor Ship had been seen near a little Town call'd _Bandan_, ten Leagues\nEastward of _Saeni_, and thirty of _Magadoxa_: Upon which Intelligence,\nhe forthwith commanded six Men to march back to the _Moorzacks_ as\nexpeditiously as they could, in order to fetch our Molotto, and with him\nto join the Army as soon as they could. They found him upon his Duty,\nand commanded him to march away immediately, with his Bow and Arrows,\nwhich were the Arms that belonged to him, as a _Passau_ or Guard of the\nMoorzacks, so that he seem'd to march as a Soldier more than a Prisoner.\nAfter two Days hard March they came up with the Army which had made a\nHalt, at some Distance from the Town of _Saeni_, and the _Accabo_ having\nsent out a Detachment to lie in Ambuscade near the Town, they took some\nPrisoners, who being brought in, declared that all the Inhabitants had\nabandoned the Town upon the News of the King's Approach, and were fled\naway for Fear. At the same Time they gave such Instances of the Tyranny\nof the late _Hamman_ or Governor, and of the Necessity they were under\nof doing as they did, that the King appeared satisfied with their\nBehaviour; and to lay aside all Resentment, ordered several of them to\ngo and find out the Rest, and give them Notice, that they might return\nto their Habitations, for that all was pardon'd, and that he would send\nthem a better Governor. And, as if all had been over, the next Day he\nbegan to move with his Army back towards _Magadoxa_, but marched\nextreamly slow; towards Night, they came near a great Wood, into which\nhe commanded his whole Army to enter, in order to lie that Night; the\nnext Morning he gave Orders that no Man upon Pain of Death should go out\nof the Wood.\nIn the mean Time the scattered Inhabitants of _Saeni_ having heard the\ngood News, were returning to their Habitations; but no sooner was it\ndark that Night, but the _Accabo_ gave Orders for a March, and making\nall the Expedition they could, they silently enter'd the Town of _Saeni_\nbefore Morning, while the Inhabitants newly return'd were all asleep;\nhowever, they were alarm'd, and running into the Streets, the _Accabo_\ncommanded his Men to fall upon them, who killed a great Number of them,\nwhilst a great many favoured by the Darkness of the Night, had the good\nLuck to make their Escape; but of those that could not escape by Flight,\nthere were only forty three made Prisoners, all the Rest being kill'd.\nOur Molotto happen'd to fall into Discourse with one of these Prisoners,\nwho lamenting the hard Fate, of his poor Townsmen, and giving him an\nAccount of their Flight from the City, and their Return back, told him,\nthat as they went near the Sea-side, about ten Leagues from thence, and\na League or two from _Bandon_, they saw a _Schabew_ or Ship, and so\ndescribed him the Way to the Place where she lay; the Molotto perceiv'd\nit was directly East of the Place they were then at, _viz._ _Saeni_, he\nask'd several Questions concerning the Size of the Ship, the Prisoner\nanswer'd him to the best of his Understanding; and in his Manner of\ndescribing her, gave the Molotto to understand, that her Yards and\nTopmasts were down, which was a Sign she designed to lye there some\nTime; he then desired to know of him when he had seen her last, he\nanswered him two Days before.\nIt immediately came into his Head that Providence had now given him the\nMeans of making his Escape, and that in all Probability if he miss'd\nthis, he never would have an Opportunity more; he knew that nothing\ncould hinder him from making off by Night, and that in all Probability,\nhe would be gone several Hours before he should be miss'd; so that he\nflattered himself, that those who should be sent in Pursuit of him would\nnever overtake him, tho' they should hit the right Way, and he thought\nit might very well happen they should be out there too.\nAll that Day he pass'd betwixt Hope and Fear, sometimes he was terrified\nat the dismal Apprehensions of losing his Way himself, or of the Ship's\nbeing sail'd off, in either of which Cases there was nothing for him but\ncertain Destruction, for he could have no Chance of concealing himself\nin the Country as a Native might do.--On the other Side, he spirited\nhimself up with an Assurance that the Ship could not be yet sail'd,\nhaving her Yards and Topmasts down but two Days before; and again, that\nhe knew so well how the Place bore, that there could be no Danger of his\nlosing his Way; so that that Day he did nothing but mark out the Way\nwith his Eye, that he intended to go, at his first setting out.\nAs soon as all was silent that Night, and his Comrades (who were a Kind\nof Guards upon him) were all asleep, he ventured to set out, nor did he\nmeet with any Frights or Interruptions at the Beginning, getting clear\nof the Army without being questioned, or so much as seen or heard of\nany; for as they knew nothing of military Discipline, they have no\nCentinels in the Night. He marched all Night with all his Might, for\nindeed it was for Life; in the Morning when the Day was clear, he saw a\nlittle Town about two Miles from him, he judg'd this to be the Town of\n_Bandon_, by the Description which the Prisoner gave him of it; he\nguessed now that he was near the Sea, and that it was nothing but the\nhigh Land before him, which hindered him from the Sight of it; he\ntherefore set his best Foot forwards, to gain the Top of one of the\nHills before him; when he reached the Top, he had a fair View of the\nOcean, and looking stedfastly every Way, he fancied he saw something\nlike a Ship Eastward, but it was so far off, it was scarce discernable,\nhowever, it revived his Heart, and he now thought himself safe; he also\nperceived a pretty large River, at some Distance below him, in the\nValleys, which he must of Necessity pass, because it lay directly in his\nWay, but as he was expert at Swimming, this gave him no great Dread,\ntherefore he made the best of his Way towards the said River; when he\narrived at the Banks, he perceived it was so rapid, that he apprehended\n(he being a little weakened with the Fatigue of his Journey) the Current\nwould be too strong for him, and carry him into the Sea; he thought\ntherefore, there was no Way for him to get over, but to walk up further\nin the Country, to find a Place where the Course of the River was\ncrooked, which always breaks the Rapidity of the Stream, and where he\nmight cross with less Danger.\nWhile he was considering on this Matter, he chanced to look about, and\nturning his Eyes upwards towards the Hill from whence he was newly\ndescended, and which was now betwixt two and three Miles Distance from\nhim, he saw six Men on the Top thereof; they seemed to stand still and\nlook about them for a while, but suddenly they started forwards, and\nwith great Precipitation made directly towards him; he could think no\nless than that they were some sent in Pursuit of him, and that their\nstanding still at first, was to no other Purpose, than to try if they\ncould see him, and that their discovering him, was the Occasion of their\nrunning so suddenly down the Hill afterwards. The Fear of the cruel\nDeath he should suffer, in Case he should be taken, hinder'd all further\nConsideration, so that without any more examining them, he plunged\nhimself into the River, the Current was very strong, however, he made\nShift to stem it better than he expected; and when he got over near the\nother Side, Providence so order'd it, that he was forced into a Part of\nthe River, where there was an eddy Water, which drove him upon the Bank,\nso that in about the Space of half an Hour or a little more, he landed\nsafely on the other Side.\nHe was a little spent with his Swimming, when sitting down to take a\nlittle Breath, he saw a Sight which terrified him as much as an Army of\nEnemies at his Heels could have done; it was a monstruous Aligator lying\nnear the Bank-side, it appeared like some prodigious Oak in the Water,\nand he has declared and given it under his Hand, that it seemed to him\nlarge enough to swallow an Ox. At the same Time he beheld his Pursuers,\nwho were now arrived pretty near the opposite Bank, he started up, and\nwing'd with Fear, flew rather than run, and there being some shrubby low\nWood near the River, he had Presence of Mind enough to make his Way\nthrough them, knowing that if the Monster should follow him, it could\nnot pass that Way, because the Thickness of the Wood would hinder it,\nbesides it must presently lose Sight of him, and indeed it is likely,\nthat he owed his Escape to this lucky Thought; he run on with greater\nSwiftness than at his first setting out, (for his Fear had supplied him\nwith new Spirits,) but not without often looking back, which gave him\nthe Comfort of knowing that the Monster and his Pursuers were both out\nof Sight: When he had continued this Pace about two Hours, he came to a\nValley betwixt two rising Grounds, which lay open to the Sea, where he\nwas joyfully surprized with a full View of the Ship lying at an Anchor,\nnot above a Mile from the Shore, he hastened immediately towards the\nEdge of the Water, and made a Signal to them, by waving his Cap over his\nHead, for he thought it to no Purpose to hollow or call, because they\nwere at too great a Distance to hear him. He continued this Action a\nconsiderable Time, and began to grow impatient and uneasy to the last\nDegree, because he saw them return no Signal in Answer to him, whereby\nhe might understand that they saw him, or intended to succour him; but\nhe was soon relieved from this Fright also, by the sudden Appearance of\nthe Boat which was coming round the Point of Land very near him, she\nbeing employed for some Time in rowing along Shore, in order to discover\nif the Country was inhabited.\nSo great was his Joy at this Sight, and such was his Eagerness of\nspeaking with them, knowing by their Dress they were _Europeans_, that\nhe had not Patience to wait for their coming to him, but he ran hastily\ninto the Water to meet them; when he waded up to the Neck, he set\nhimself afloat and swam to the Boat, they proved to be _Dutchmen_;\nhowever, they took him in, and observing the extream Satisfaction and\nJoy which appeared in his Countenance, they were very desirous of\nknowing who he was, and whence he came, they spoke to him in _Dutch_,\nand tho' he knew but little of that Language, yet he made a Shift to let\nthem understand that he spoke _English_; there were two or three amongst\nthem that understood our Language, and one of them spoke it very well;\nwhen he knew this, he gave them to understand in few Words that he was a\nChristian, that he had been a Prisoner or Slave in that Country for\nsixteen Years, that he had now made his Escape, and was pursued by six\nBarbarians who were once come in Sight of him.\nAs they had Arms in their Boat, they had a Mind to stay a-while and see\nwhether these Barbarians would appear, for they had not beheld a human\nCreature since they had lain there, and were of Opinion that the Country\nwas not inhabited, (tho' the Ship had been seen from the Hills by the\nNatives) so they lay upon their Oars.\nIn about half an Hour five Men appear'd arm'd with Bows and Arrows, and\nrunning a great Pace, they came to the Water-side, and beheld the Boat,\nwhich was but a little Distance from them; the _Dutchmen_ fired two\nMusquets, upon which they dispersed and fled hastily away, but a little\nwhile after two of them came back again, and throwing down their Bows\nand Arrows, upon the Shore-side, plung'd into the Sea, and seem'd to\ndirect their Way towards the Boat; the _Dutchmen_ were surpriz'd what\nthey could mean, but however, as nothing was to be fear'd from two naked\nMen, they lay still to see what it would come to: In fine, the two\nBarbarians swam to the Boat, and speaking to the Molotto, begg'd to be\ntaken in, and to go along with them, for that they should certainly be\nput to some cruel Death if they went back, for not having taken him and\nbrought him back with them.\nThe _Dutchmen_ were willing to receive them, knowing they would be worth\nMoney to be sold for Slaves. When they got into the Boat, they gave an\nAccount of losing one of their Company in swimming over the River, where\nthey first had Sight of the Molotto, who was devoured by an Alligator,\nin all Probability the same the Molotto had seen, and that the other\nthree would travel as far as they could from their own Country, in order\nto save their Lives; but for their Parts, they chose rather to put\nthemselves on the Mercy of the white Men, than run the Hazard of being\ntaken, or starved in passing thro' Countries they did not know.\nWhen he came on Board the Ship, he related to the Captain the whole\nStory of his Adventures, who finding he had been a Sea-faring Man, and\nthat he understood Navigation pretty well, put him upon the Foot of an\nable Seaman.\nThey remain'd here about three Weeks, the Winds continuing contrary till\nthen, in which Time they laid in Water and Wood, and diverted themselves\nwith Fishing; after this they sail'd for _Batavia_ in the _East-Indies_,\nwhere having unladed and taken in a Cargoe of _India_ Goods, they sail'd\nhome for _Holland_; the Molotto made two or three Voyages with them, but\nin the Year 1724, he being in _Holland_, and having a great Desire to\nsee his old Captain, he embark'd on the 28th of _March_ in _Holland_,\nand pass'd into _England_, he found out his Captain who was alive, and\nwho being overjoy'd to see him, prov'd very generous to him, and\nprevail'd with him to give in Writing the Particulars of all his\nAdventures, from whose Copy the foregoing Narrative is faithfully taken.\nAs to the Molotto he return'd back to _Holland_, and sails still in the\nService of the _Dutch East-India_ Company, unless he is lately dead.\nAs we cannot, with any Certainty, deduce this Man from his Origin, we\nshall begin where we find him first a declared Enemy to Mankind. Capt.\n_Bellamy_ and _Paul Williams_, in two Sloops, had been upon a _Spanish_\nWreck, and not finding their Expectation answered, as has been mentioned\nin former Parts of this History, they resolved not to lose their Labour,\nand agreed to go upon the Account, a Term among the Pyrates, which\nspeaks their Profession. The first, who had the Misfortune to fall in\ntheir Way, was Captain _Prince_, bound from _Jamaica_ to _London_, in a\nGalley built at that Port, whose Cargo consisted of Elephants Teeth,\nGold Dust, and other rich Merchandize. This Prize not only enrich'd, but\nstrengthened them; they immediately mounted this Galley with 28 Guns,\nand put aboard 150 Hands of different Nations; _Bellamy_ was declared\nCaptain, and the Vessel had her old Name continued, which was _Whidaw_:\nThis happen'd about the latter End of _February_, 1717. They, now thus\nfitted for the continuing of their desperate Resolution, shaped their\nCourse for _Virginia_, which Coast they very much infested, taking\nseveral Vessels: They were upon shifting this Station, when they were\nvery near, as the Psalmist expresses it, _going quick down into Hell_,\nfor the Heaven's beginning to lowre, prognosticated a Storm; at the\nfirst Appearance of the Sky being likely to be overcast, _Bellamy_ took\nin all his small Sails, and _Williams_ double reefed his main Sail,\nwhich was hardly done when a Thunder Shower overtook them with such\nViolence, that the _Whidaw_ was very near over-setting; they immediately\nput before the Wind, for they had no other Way of working, having only\nthe Goose Wings of the Fore-Sail to scud with; happy for them the Wind\nwas at _West_ and by _North_, for had it been Easterly, they must have\ninfallibly perish'd upon the Coast. The Storm encreased towards Night,\nand not only put them by all Sail, but obliged the _Whidaw_ to bring her\nYards aportland, and all they could do with Tackles to the Goose Neck of\nthe Tiller, four Men in the Gun Room, and two at the Wheel, was to keep\nher Head to the Sea, for had she once broach'd to, they must infallibly\nhave founder'd. The Heavens, in the mean while, were cover'd with Sheets\nof Lightning, which the Sea by the Agitation of the saline Particles\nseem'd to imitate; the Darkness of the Night was such, as the Scripture\nsays, as might be felt; the terrible hollow roaring of the Winds, cou'd\nbe only equalled by the repeated, I may say, incessant Claps of Thunder,\nsufficient to strike a Dread of the supream Being, who commands the Sea\nand the Winds, one would imagine in every Heart; but among these\nWretches, the Effect was different, for they endeavoured by their\nBlasphemies, Oaths, and horrid Imprecations, to drown the Uproar of\njarring Elements. _Bellamy_ swore he was sorry he could not run out his\nGuns to return the Salute, meaning the Thunder, that he fancied the Gods\nhad got drunk over their Tipple, and were gone together by the Ears:\nThey continued scudding all that Night under their bare Poles, the next\nMorning the Main-Mast being sprung in the Step, they were forced to cut\nit away, and, at the same time, the Mizzen came by the Board. These\nMisfortunes made the Ship ring with Blasphemy, which was encreased,\nwhen, by trying the Pumps, they found the Ship made a great Deal of\nWater; tho' by continually plying them, it kept it from gaining upon\nthem: The Sloop as well as the Ship, was left to the Mercy of the Winds,\ntho' the former, not having a Tant-Mast, did not lose it. The Wind\nshifting round the Compass, made so outrageous and short a Sea, that\nthey had little Hopes of Safety; it broke upon the Poop, drove in the\nTaveril, and wash'd the two Men away from the Wheel, who were saved in\nthe Netting. The Wind after four Days and three Nights abated of its\nFury, and fixed in the North, North East Point, hourly decreasing, and\nthe Weather clearing up, so that they spoke to the Sloop, and resolv'd\nfor the Coast of _Carolina_; they continued this Course but a Day and a\nNight, when the Wind coming about to the Southward, they changed their\nResolution to that of going to _Rhode Island_. All this while the\n_Whidaw_'s Leak continued, and it was as much as the Lee-Pump could do\nto keep the Water from gaining, tho' it was kept continually going.\nJury-Masts were set up, and the Carpenter finding the Leak to be in the\nBows, occasioned by the Oakam spewing out of a Seam, the Crew became\nvery jovial again; the Sloop received no other Damage than the Loss of\nthe Main-Sail, which the first Flurry tore away from the Boom. In their\nCruise off _Rhode Island_, the Beginning of _April_, they took a Sloop\ncommanded by Capt. _Beer_, belonging to _Boston_, in the Lat. of _South\nCarolina_, 40 Leagues from Land; they put the said Captain on Board the\n_Whidaw_ Commodore, while they rifled and plundered his Vessel, which\n_Williams_ and _Bellamy_ proposed returning to him, but the Crews being\naverse to it, they sunk her, and put the Captain ashore upon _Block\nIsland_.\nI can't pass by in Silence, Capt. _Bellamy_'s Speech to Capt. _Beer_.\nD--n my Bl--d_, says he, _I am sorry they won't let you have your Sloop\nagain, for I scorn to do any one a Mischief, when it is not for my\nAdvantage; damn the Sloop, we must sink her, and she might be of Use to\nyou. Tho', damn ye, you are a sneaking Puppy, and so are all those who\nwill submit to be governed by Laws which rich Men have made for their\nown Security, for the cowardly Whelps have not the Courage otherwise to\ndefend what they get by their Knavery; but damn ye altogether: Damn them\nfor a Pack of crafty Rascals, and you, who serve them, for a Parcel of\nhen-hearted Numskuls. They villify us, the Scoundrels do, when there is\nonly this Difference, they rob the Poor under the Cover of Law,\nforsooth, and we plunder the Rich under the Protection of our own\nCourage; had you not better make One of us, than sneak after the A--s of\nthese Villains for Employment? Capt. _Beer_ told him, that his\nConscience would not allow him to break thro' the Laws of God and Man.\nYou are a devilish Conscience Rascal, d--n ye, replied _Bellamy_, I am a\nfree Prince, and I have as much Authority to make War on the whole\nWorld, as he who has a hundred Sail of Ships at Sea, and an Army of\n100,000 Men in the Field; and this my Conscience tells me; but there is\nno arguing with such sniveling Puppies, who allow Superiors to kick them\nabout Deck at Pleasure; and pin their Faith upon a Pimp of a Parson; a\nSquab, who neither practices nor believes what he puts upon the\nchuckle-headed Fools he preaches to.--The Pyrates wanting neither\nProvision nor Water, and the _Whidaw_'s Damage being repaired, they past\ntheir Time very jovially. One of the Crew had been a Stroler, a Fellow\nwho had pass'd thro' a great many real as well as fictitious Scenes of\nLife, the stroling Business not answering the Greatness of his Soul (as\nhe expressed it) he thought it more profitable, and less fatiguing, to\nturn Collector. Accordingly in _Yorkshire_ he borrowed an excellent\nGelding, (I make Use of his own Terms) with a hunting Saddle and Bridle,\nand with a Case of Pocket Pistols, which he before had, he set out to\nseek Adventures, without taking Leave of his Company; he met, he said,\nwith several Knights Errant, whom as they declined the Combat, he\nspoiled and sent to offer themselves at the Feet of his _Dulcinea_, but\nbeing under the Influence of some malicious Enchanter, who envied his\nglorious Feats of Arms, and fear'd they would eclipse by the Brightness\nof their Lustre, those of some favourite Knight whom he protected; or\notherwise, knowing by his Skill, that he should one Day succumb under\nthe Weight of his irresistable Arm, by his magical Power, threw him into\na loathsome Dungeon loaded with Irons, whence the wise Man, who had Care\nof his Affairs, and was destined to write the History of his heroick\nDeeds delivered, and putting him on board a Ship, transported him to the\nfamous Island of _Jamaica_; and after various Turns of Fortune, link'd\nhim in Society with these Marine Heroes, the Scourge of Tyrants and\nAvarice, and the brave Asserters of Liberty.\nThis whimsical Fellow made a Play whilst he was on Board, which he\ncalled the _Royal Pyrate_; and this (which to see once would make a\nCynick laugh) was acted on the Quarter-Deck with great Applause, both of\nthe Actors and Poet; but an Accident which turn'd the Farce into\nTragedy, occasioned an Order of Council to forbid its being play'd a\nsecond Time. The Case was thus; _Alexander_ the Great, environ'd by his\nGuards, was examining a Pyrate who was brought before him: The Gunner,\nwho was drunk, took this to be in earnest, and that his Mess-Mate was in\nDanger, and hearing _Alexander_ say,\n   _Know'st thou that Death attends thy mighty Crimes,_\n   _And thou shall'st hang to Morrow Morn betimes._\nSwore by G--d he'd try that, and running into the Gun Room where he left\nthree Companions over a Bowl of Rum Punch as drunk as himself, told\nthem, they were going to hang honest _Jack Spinckes_; and if they\nsuffered it, they should be all hang'd one after another, but by G--d,\nthey should not hang him, for he'd clear the Decks; and taking a Grenade\nwith a lighted Match, followed by his Comrades with their Cutlash, he\nset Fire to the Fuze and threw it among the Actors. The Audience was on\nthe Gang Ways and Poop, and falling in with their Cutlash, poor\n_Alexander_ had his left Arm cut off, and _Jack Spinckes_ his Leg broke\nwith the bursting of the Shell: The Ship was immediately in an Uproar,\nand the Aggressors seiz'd, who else would have made Havock with the\nGuards, or have been cut to Pieces by them, for they had all Cutlashes.\n_Alexander_ the Great revenged the Loss of his Arm by the Death of him\nwho deprived him of his Limb. The Gunner and two surviving Comrades were\nthat Night clapp'd into Irons, and the next Day at a Court-Marshal, not\nonly acquitted but applauded for their Zeal. _Alexander_ and his Enemies\nwere reconciled, and the Play forbad any more to be acted.\nA Fortnight after the setting Capt. _Beer_ ashore, _Williams_ boarded\nand took a Vessel off _Cape Cod_, laden with Wine; the Crew of which\nencreased the Number of their Prisoners: They put seven Men on Board the\nPrize, with Orders to keep Company with the Ship and Sloop, commanded by\n_Bellamy_ and _Williams_, and left aboard her the Master.\nAs the Ship and Sloop had been long off the _Carreen_, they stretch'd\naway to the Northward, and made the best of their Way to _Penobscott_\nRiver, which lies between _Nova Scotia_ and the Province of _Main_,\nwhere they designed to heave down. This Tract of Land is along the Coast\nabout 190 Miles from West to East, reckoning from the Province of _Main_\nto St. _Croix_; and about 200 Miles over from North to South, counting\nfrom the River _Quebeck_ to the Sea. King _Charles_ the Second made a\nGrant of it in 1663, to his Royal Highness _James_ Duke of _York_, who\nmade a Settlement at _Pemaquid_; it abounds in all Sorts of Timber, and\nwould bear excellent Hemp and Flax, and all Sorts of Naval Stores; is\nrich in Copper, Lead, and Iron Ore; and the Seas are stock'd with\nWhales, Cod, Sturgeon, Herrings, Mackrel, Salmon, Oysters, Cockles,\n_&c._ the Soil produces all Sort of _European_ Grain and Fruits; and the\nWoods shelter a great Number of Deer, as Elks, Red and Fallow Deer,\n_&c._ and this Country, if settled, would certainly be of great\nAdvantage to _England_. I hope the Reader will pardon this small\nDigression which the Interest I take in every Thing, which may tend to\nthe enriching or extending the Dominions of our glorious _Britain_, my\ndearly loved Country, forced me into: But to return, when they were at\nthe Mouth of this River, it was thought more eligible to careen in the\nRiver _Mechisses_; they entered it as agreed, and run up about two Miles\nand a half, when they came to an Anchor, with their Prizes. The next\nMorning all the Prisoners were set ashore with Drivers, and Orders to\nassist in the building Huts; the Guns were also set ashore, and a Breast\nWork raised, with Embrazures, for the Canon on each Side the River, this\ntook up four Days: A Magazine was dug deep in the Earth, and a Roof\nrais'd over it by the poor Slaves the Prisoners, whom they treated after\nthe same Manner as the Negroes are used by the _West-India_ Planters.\nThe Powder being secured, and every Thing out, they hove down the Sloop,\ncleaned her, and when she had all in again, they careened the _Whidaw_,\nby the largest Prize. Here the Stroler told the two Commanders, that\nthey might lay the Foundation of a new Kingdom, which, in time, might\nsubject the World, and extend its Conquests beyond those of the _Roman_\nEmpire. I am, it is true, said he, by Birth, the Son of a Miller, but I\nhave Ambition, Avarice, and Learning enough, to be a Secretary of State,\nfor I was a Servitor at _Oxford_ before I turn'd Stroler; and if you\nthink fit to erect this Tract of Land into an Empire, and your joint\nImperial Majesties will employ my Abilities, don't question but I will\nprove a true Patriot; that is, by the Figure I will make, I will be a\nCredit to your Court, and by the squeezing your Subjects (whom under the\nspecious Pretence of Liberty, I will keep in abject Slavery) drain such\nSums as shall ever keep them poor, and your and my Treasury full.\n_Rome_, the Mistress of the World, was founded by a couple of\nSheep-Stealers, and peopled by run-away Slaves and insolvent Debtors;\nhow much more advantageously might you two undertake the erecting of a\nnew Monarchy, whose Subjects are no Strangers to the Art of War, who are\nnot environ'd as they were with invidious Neighbours, and who may\nencrease your Power, and propagate the Species, by taking into your\nProtection the _Indians_ of these Parts, and the discontented and\ndesperate People of the neighbouring _English_ and _French_ Colonies? To\nstrengthen your selves, raise every useful Man to some Dignity in the\nState, and share the Prisoners (I mean such as won't swear Allegiance)\nas so many Slaves unworthy of Liberty among your great Men; build more\nVessels, keep them constantly on the Cruize, and force all the Prisoners\neither by fair or foul to acknowledge your Sovereignty; it was thus the\ngreatest Empires of the World were founded; superior Force was always\nacknowledged a just Title; and the Ancients ever esteem'd the Prisoners\nthey made, whose Lives were in their Power by the Law of Arms, lawful\nSlaves; and the employing their Lives in the Service of the Conqueror,\nbut a grateful Retribution for preserving of them. I leave it to the\nmature Deliberation of your great Wisdom, whether it is not more\neligible to found here an Empire, and make War by a lawful Authority\nderived from your Royal selves, than lie under the opprobrious\nAppellations of Robbers, Thieves, profligate Rogues and Pyrates; for\nbegging Pardon of your Majesties, for that Freedom of Speech, which my\nZeal for your Royal Service, and the publick Good oblige me to; the\nWorld treats you and your loyal Subjects with no softer Terms. But, when\nyou have once declared your selves lawful Monarchs, and that you have\nStrength enough to defend your Title, all the Universities in the World\nwill declare you have a Right _Jure Divino_; and the Kings and Princes\nof the Earth, will send their Ambassadors to court your Alliance.\n_Bellamy_ and _Williams_ told him, They would consider on his Proposal,\nand they would let him know what they should in their great Wisdom\nconclude upon. In the mean while, they thank'd him for his Advice,\npromis'd when they began to found their Monarchy, (should they find it\nexpedient,) to make him Prime Minister, or Quarter-Master ashore; and\nwhen he had enriched himself and Family, by the fleecing their Subjects,\nthey assured him they would pass an Act of Indemnity for his Security;\nand concluded with ordering a Bowl of Punch for every Mess.\nThe _Whidaw_ being clean'd, they thought of cruizing again, and\naccordingly steer'd for _Fortunes Bay_ in _Newfoundland_; they made some\nPrizes on the Banks, forced all the Men, and sunk the Vessels.\nThey had not been long on this Coast before they were separated by a\nStorm, which held some Days. Off the Island of St. _Paul_ the _Whidaw_\nspied a Sail, which she immediately gave Chase to; the Ship brought to\nand lay by for her, she prov'd a _French_ Man of 36 Guns, carrying\nSoldiers to _Quebeck_. The _Whidaw_ engag'd with great Resolution, and\nthe _French_ did not shew less, for he boarded the _Whidaw_, and was\ntwice put off, with the Loss of Men on both Sides. _Bellamy_ after two\nHours Engagement thought the _Frenchman_ too hard a Match, and was for\nshaking him off; but his Enemy was not as willing to part with him, for\nhe gave Chase, and as he sail'd altogether as well as _Bellamy_, the\nlatter had certainly been taken and had received the due Punishment of\nhis Crimes, had not the Night coming on favour'd his Escape: He lost in\nthis Engagement 36 Hands, beside several wounded, the poor Minister of\nState, our before-mentioned Stroller, was in the Number of the slain.\nThe _Whidaw_ returned to the Coast of _Newfoundland_, and off\n_Placentia_ Bay met with his Consort and the Prize.\nThey resolved to visit again the Coast of _New England_, the _Whidaw_\nbeing much shatter'd in the late Engagement, having receiv'd a great\nmany Shot in her Hull; they ran down this Coast, and between St.\n_George_'s Banks and _Nantuket_'s Shoals, took the _Mary Anne_.\nThe Master of the Vessel, taken formerly off _Cape Cod_, was left on\nboard her, and as he was very well acquainted with the Coast, they\norder'd him to carry the Light and go a-head; and the Pyrates commonly\nkept him at Helm: He upon a Night of publick Rejoicing, seeing all the\nPyrates drunk, laid hold on the Opportunity, and run his Vessel ashore\nabout Midnight, near the Land of _Eastham_, out of which he alone\nescap'd with Life. The _Whidaw_ steering after the Light, met with the\nsame Fate; the small Vessel ran into a sandy Bay, and the Men got ashore\nwithout Difficulty.\nWhen the _Whidaw_ struck, the Pyrates murder'd all their Prisoners, that\nis, all their forced Men; as it is concluded, from the mangled Carcasses\nwhich were wash'd ashore; but not a Soul escaped out of her or\n_William_'s, who was also lost.\nThe Pyrates, to the Number of seven who escaped, were seiz'd by the\nInhabitants, and on the Information of the Master who escap'd, and on\ntheir own Confession, were imprison'd, condemn'd, and executed. They\nwere all Foreigners, very ignorant and obstinate; but by the\nindefatigable Pains of a pious and learned Divine, who constantly\nattended them, they were, at length, by the special Grace of God, made\nsensible of, and truly penitent, for the enormous Crimes they had been\nguilty of. As the Trial of these Pyrates, and their Behaviour while\nunder Sentence, and at the Place of Execution, was printed at _Boston_,\nand is to be had in Town, I shall refer the curious Reader to that small\nTract.\nAs to the Birth of this Pyrate, we can discover nothing by the Enquiries\nwe have hitherto made; and, indeed, had we succeeded in our Search,\ncould it have been of any great Consequence? For, its certain, by the\nBehaviour of the Man, he must have been of very obscure Parents; and, by\nhis Education, (as he was no Artist) very unfit, in all Respects, except\nthat of Cruelty, for the villainous Business he was in. We have been\ninform'd, that he had been a Pyrate in a private Capacity, and having\nescaped Justice, had an Opportunity of repenting his former Crimes, and,\nas a foremast Man, or petty Officer, of getting his Bread in a\nwarrantable Way: But no; ignorant as he was of Letters, he was ambitious\nof Power, and capable of the most barbarous Actions to acquire it.\nCaptain _Green_ of _Bristol_, in _April_ 1726, shipp'd this _Fly_ as\nBoatswain, at _Jamaica_, being bound, in the _Elizabeth_ Snow of\n_Bristol_, for the Coast of _Guinea_. _Fly_, who had insinuated himself\nwith some of the Men, whom he found ripe for any Villainy, resolved to\nseize the said Snow, and murder the Captain and Mate, and, taking the\nCommand on himself, turn Pyrate. He proposed this his Design to his\nBrothers in Iniquity, who approving it, he, having the Watch at one o'\nClock in the Morning, on the 27th Day of _May_, went up to one _Morrice\nCundon_, then at the Helm, accompanied by _Alexander Mitchel_, _Henry\nHill_, _Samuel Cole_, _Thomas Winthrop_, and other Conspirators, and\nswore damn him, if he spoke one Word, or stirr'd either Hand or Foot, he\nwould blow his Brains out; and, tucking up his Shirt above his Elbow,\nwith a Cutlass in his Hand, he, with _Mitchel_, went into the Captain's\nCabbin, and told him, he must turn out. The Captain asking what was the\nMatter, was answered, by _Mitchel_, they had no Time to answer\nimpertinent Questions; that if he would turn out, and go upon Deck\nquietly, it would save 'em the Trouble of scraping the Cabbin; if he\nwould not, a few Buckets of Water and a Scraper would take his Blood out\nof the Decks. That they had chosen Captain _Fly_ for Commander, and damn\nhis Blood, they would allow of no other, and would not waste their\nProvisions to feed useless Men.\nThe Captain reply'd, that since they had so resolved he should make no\nResistance; but begged they would not murder him, since his living could\nbe no Obstacle to their Designs; that he had never been harsh to either\nof them, and therefore they could not kill him out of revenge; and if it\nwas only for their Security, he desired, if they would not take his Word\nto do nothing to obstruct the Measures they had resolved on, they would\nsecure him in Irons till he might be put somewhere on Shore. Ay, G--d\nd--mn ye, says _Fly_, to live and hang us, if we are ever taken: No, no,\nwalk up and be damn'd, that Bite won't take, it has hanged many an\nhonest Fellow already. _Mitchel_ and _Fly_ then laying hold of him,\npulled him out of his Bed. The poor Captain intreating to spare his\nLife, for his Soul's sake, told 'em he would bind himself down by the\nmost solemn Oaths, never to appear against them; that he was unfit to\nappear before the Judgment Seat of a just and pure God; that he was\nloaded with Sins, and to take him off before he had washed those Stains\nwhich sullied his Soul by the Tears of Repentance, would be a Cruelty\nbeyond Comparison greater than that of depriving him of Life, were he\nprepared for Death, since it would be, without any Offence committed\nagainst them, dooming him to eternal Misery; however, if they would not\nbe perswaded that his Life was consistent with their Safety, he begg'd\nthey would allow him some Time to prepare himself for the great Change.\nThat he begg'd no other Mercy than what the Justice and Compassion of\nthe Laws would allow them, should they hereafter be taken. _D--n your\nBlood_, said Mitchel, _no Preaching. Be damn'd an you will, what's that\nto us? Let him look out who has the Watch. Upon Deck, you Dog, for we\nshall lose no more Time about you._\nThey hawl'd him into the Steerage, and forc'd him upon Deck, where one\nof the Hell-Hounds asked if he had rather take a Leap like a brave\nFellow, or be to toss'd over like a sneaking Rascal. The Captain,\naddressing himself to _Fly_, said, _Boatswain, for God's sake don't\nthrow me overboard, if you do, I am for ever lost; Hell's the Portion of\nmy Crimes_.--Damn him answer'd _Fly_, since he's so devilish godly,\nwe'll give him Time to say his Prayers, and I'll be Parson. Say after\nme. _Lord, have Mercy on me._ Short Prayers are best, so no more Words,\nand over with him, my Lads.\nThe Captain still cry'd for Mercy, and begg'd an Hour's respite only,\nbut all in vain; he was seized by the Villains, and thrown over Board;\ncatch'd however, and hung by the Main-Sheet, which _Winthorp_ seeing,\nfetch'd the Cooper's broad Ax, and chopping off the unhappy Master's\nHand, he was swallowed up by the Sea.\nThe Captain being thus dispatched, _Thomas Jenkins_, the Mate, was\nsecured and brought upon Deck, to share the same cruel Fate. His\nIntreaties were as useless as the Captain's; the Sentence they had\npassed upon him was not to be reversed; they were deaf to his Prayers\nand Remonstrances, Strangers to Humanity and Compassion. He was of the\nCaptain's Mess, they said, and they should e'en drink together; it was\nPity to part good Company.\nThus they jested with his Agonies; he, however, made some Struggle,\nwhich irritating his Murderers, one of them snatched up the Ax, with\nwhich _Winthorp_ had lopped off the Captain's Hand, and gave him a great\nCut on the Shoulder, by missing his Head, where the Blow was aimed, and\nhe was thrown into the Sea. He swam notwithstanding, and called out to\nthe Doctor to throw him a Rope, who, poor Man, could not hear him, being\nsecured, and laid in Irons in his own Cabin; and had he heard, and been\nable to have thrown the Rope required, could it be expected that these\nharden'd Wretches would have relented, and shewn him Mercy? But the\nsinking Man will catch at a Straw, and Hope, they say, is the last that\ndeserts us. While we have Life we are apt to flatter our selves, some\nlucky Accident may favour us.\nIt was next debated what should be done with the Doctor. Some were for\nsending him to look after the Captain and Mate, but the Majority, as he\nwas a useful Man, thought it better to keep him. All obstacles being\nremoved, _Mitchel_ saluted _Fly_ Captain, and, with the rest of the Crew\nwho had been in the Conspiracy, with some Ceremony, gave him Possession\nof the great Cabin.\nHere a Bowl of Punch being made, _Morice Cundon_ was called down, and\none _John Fitzherbert_ set to the Helm in his Place. At the same Time\nthe Carpenter and _Thomas Streaton_ were brought before the Captain, who\ntold them they were three Rascals, and richly deserved to be sent after\nthe Captain and Mate, but that they were willing to shew them Mercy, and\nnot put them to Death in cold Blood, and he would therefore only put\nthem in Irons, for the Security of the Ship's Crew; they were\naccordingly ordered out, and iron'd. _Fly_ then told his Comrades it was\nconvenient to resolve on some Course, when Word was brought them, that a\nShip was very near them. The Council broke up, and made a clear Ship,\nwhen, in a very little while after, they found it was the _Pompey_,\nwhich had left _Jamaica_ in Company with the Snow; the _Pompey_ standing\nfor the Snow, which did not make from her, soon haled, and asked how\nCaptain _Green_ did, and was answered by _Fly_, that he was very well.\nThey did not think fit to attack this Ship, but returning to hold their\nConsultation, it was resolved to steer for _North Carolina_.\nUpon their Arrival on that Coast they spied a Sloop at Anchor within the\n_Bar_; she was call'd the _John_ and _Hannah_, and commanded by Captain\n_Fulker_, who thinking the Snow might want a Pilot stepp'd into his Boat\nwith his Mate, Mr. _Atkinson_, and Mr. _Roan_, two Passengers, and a\nyoung Lad, in order to bring her in. When they came on board, they were\ntold, that the _Snow_ was come with a Cargoe from _Jamaica_; Captain\n_Fulker_ and Mr. _Roan_ were desired to walk down to the Captain, who\nwas in the Cabbin; _Fly_ received them very civilly, ordered a Bowl of\nPunch, and hearing Captain _Fulker_ had brought another Passenger on\nBoard, Mr. _Atkinson_ was also invited down.\nThe Punch being brought in, Captain _Fly_ told his Guest, that he was no\nMan to mince Matters; that he and his Comrades were Gentlemen of\nFortune, and should make bold to try if Captain _Fulker_'s Sloop was a\nbetter Sailor than the _Snow_, if she was, she would prove much fitter\nfor their Business, and they must have her: The _Snow_ came to an Anchor\nabout a League off the Sloop, and _Fly_ ordered _Fulker_, with six of\nhis own Hands, into the Boat, to bring her alongside of the _Snow_; but\nthe Wind proving contrary, their Endeavours proved also vain, and they\nreturned again in the Boat, bringing Captain _Fulker_ back with them.\nAs soon as they came on board the _Snow_, _Fly_ fell into a violent\nPassion, cursing and damning _Fulker_ for not bringing off the Sloop; he\ngave him his Reason, and said, it was impossible. _Damn ye_, replied the\nPyrate, _you lie you Dog, but d--n my B--d, your Hide shall pay for your\nRoguery, and if I can't bring her off I'll burn her where she lies_. He\nthen order'd Captain _Fulker_ to the Geers; no Reason, no Arguments,\ncould prevail; he was stripp'd and lash'd after a very inhuman Manner:\nAnd the Boat's Crew being sent again, with much ado carried her off as\nfar as the Barr, where she bilged and sunk. The Pyrates then endeavoured\nto set what remained of her out of Water on Fire, but they could not\nburn her.\nThe _Snow_ getting under Sail to look out for some Booty, _Fulker_ and\nthe others desired they might be set at Liberty, but it was denied them\nfor the present, tho' not without a Promise that they should be released\nthe first Vessel they took.\nThe fifth of _June_ they left _Carolina_, and the next Day they spied a\nSail, which prov'd the _John_ and _Betty_, commanded by Capt. _Gale_,\nbound from _Barbadoes_ to _Guiney_. _Fly_ gave Chase, but finding the\nShip wronged him, he made a Signal of Distress, hoisting his Jack at the\nmain Top-Mast Head; but this Decoy did not hinder the Ship making the\nbest of her Way. _Fly_ continued the Chace all Night, and the Wind\nslackening, he came within Shot of the Ship, and fir'd several Guns at\nher under his black Ensign; the Ship being of no Force, and the Pyrates\nready to board, the Captain struck; and _Fly_ manning his Long-Boat,\nwhich carried a Pateraro in the Bow, the Crew being well armed with\nPistols and Cutlashes went on Board the Prize, and sent Capt. _Gale_,\nafter having secured his Men, Prisoner on board the _Snow_.\nThis Prize was of little Value to the Pyrates, who took nothing but some\nSail-Cloaths and small Arms, and after two Days let her go, but took\naway six of his Men, setting on board Capt. _Fulker_ and a Passenger\n(Mr. _Atkinson_ was detained) and Capt. _Green_'s Surgeon; they kept\nthis Gentleman, Mr. _Atkinson_, knowing he was a good Artist, and lately\nMaster of the _Boneta_ Brigantine, as a Pilot for the Coast of _New\nEngland_, which they were satisfied he was well acquainted with.\nUpon Mr. _Atkinson_'s desiring to have his Liberty with the others,\nCaptain _Fly_ made him the following Speech: Look ye, Captain\n_Atkinson_, it is not that we care a T--d for your Company, G--d d--n\nye; G--d d--n my Soul, not a T--d by G--d, and that's fair; but G--d\nd--n ye, and G--d's B--d and W--ds, if you don't act like an honest Man\nG--d d--n ye, and offer to play us any Rogues Tricks by G--d, and G--d\nsink me, but I'll blow your Brains out; G--d d--n me, if I don't. Now,\nCapt. _Atkinson_, you may do as you please, you may be a Son of a Whore\nand pilot us wrong, which, G--d d--n ye, would be a rascally Trick by\nG--d, because you would betray Men who trust in you; but, by the eternal\nJ--s, you shan't live to see us hang'd. I don't love many Words, G--d\nd--n ye, if you have a Mind to be well used you shall, G--d's B--d; but\nif you will be a Villain and betray your Trust, may G--d strike me dead,\nand may I drink a Bowl of Brimstone and Fire with the D--l, if I don't\nsend you head-long to H--ll, G--d d--n me; and so there needs no more\nArguments by G--d, for I've told you my Mind, and here's all the Ships\nCrew for Witnesses, that if I do blow your Brains out, you may blame no\nBody but your self, G--d d--n ye.\nMr. _Atkinson_ answered, it was very hard he should be forced to take\nupon him the Pilotage, when he did not pretend to know the Coast, and\nthat his Life should answer for any Mistake his Ignorance of the Coast\nmight make him guilty of, and therefore begg'd he might be set on board\nCapt. _Gale_; and that they would trust to their own Knowledge, since he\ndid not doubt there being better Artists on Board. No, No, replied\n_Fly_, that won't do by G--d, your palavring won't save your Bacon.\n_Muchas palabras no valen nada_, as the _Spaniards_ say; so either\ndischarge your Trust like an honest Man, for go you shan't by G--d, or\nI'll send you with my Service to the D--l; so no more Words, G--d d--n\nye.\nThere was no Reply made, and they stood for the Coast of _New England_;\noff _Delaware_'s Bay they made a Sloop, commanded by one _Harris_, bound\nfrom _New York_ to _Pensilvania_: She had on Board about fifty\nPassengers; _Fly_ gave Chase, and coming up with her, hoisted his black\nEnsign, and ordered her to strike, which she immediately did; and _Fly_\nsent Capt. _Atkinson_ on Board with three of his Hands, to sail her,\ntho' he would not allow him, (_Atkinson_) any Arms: They, the Pyrates,\nransack'd this Prize, but not finding her of any Use to them, after a\nDetention of 24 Hours, they let her go, with her Men, excepting only a\nwell made young Fellow, whose Name was _James Benbrooke_, whom they\nkept.\n_Fly_, after having releas'd the Prize, ordered Captain _Atkinson_ to\ncarry the _Snow_ into _Martha_'s Vineyard, but, he willfully miss'd this\nPlace. _Fly_ finding himself beyond _Nantuckets_, and that his Design\nwas baulk'd, called to _Atkinson_, and told him, _he was a rascally Son\nof an envenom'd Bitch, and d--n his Blood it was a Piece of Cruelty to\nlet such a Son of a Whore live, who design'd the Death of so many honest\nFellows_. _Atkinson_, in his Defence said, he never pretended to know\nthe Coast, and that it was very hard he should die for being thought an\nabler Man than he really was; had he pretended to be their Pilot, and\ndid not know his Business, he deserved Punishment; but when he was\nforc'd upon a Business which he before declared he did not understand,\nit would be certainly cruel to make him suffer for their Mistake.--_G--d\nd--n ye_, replied _Fly_, _you are an obstinate Villain, and your Design\nis to hang us; but, B--d and W--ds you Dog, you shan't live to see it_,\nand saying this, he ran into his Cabbin and fetch'd a Pistol with Design\nto shoot _Atkinson_; but by the Interposition of _Mitchell_, who thought\nhim innocent of any Design, he escaped.\n_Atkinson_, who perceived his Life every Minute in Danger, began to\ningratiate himself with the Pyrates, and gave them Hopes, that with good\nand gentle Usage, he might be brought to join them; this he did not say\nin express Terms, but by Words he now and then let drop, as by Accident:\nThey were not a little rejoiced at the View of having so good an Artist\nto join them; nay, some of them hinted to him, that if he would take\nupon him the Command, they were ready to dispossess Capt. _Fly_, who\ncarried his Command too high, and was known to all the Crew to be no\nArtist, and to understand nothing beyond the Business of a Boatswain.\n_Atkinson_ thought it his Interest to keep them in the Opinion that he\nwould join; but always declined hearing any Thing as to the Command.\nThis made him less severely us'd, and protected him from the Insults of\n_Fly_, who imagined he would betray them the first Opportunity, and\ntherefore more than once proposed his being thrown over Board, which was\nnever approved by the _Snow_'s Company.\nFrom _Nantuket_ they stood to the Eastward, and off _Brown_'s _Bank_\nmade a Fishing Schooner. _Fly_ coming up with her fired a Gun, and\nhoisting his black Ensign, swore, _d--n his Blood, if they did not\ninstantly bring to, and send their Boat on Board, he would sink her_:\nThe Schooner obeyed, and sent away her Boat on Board the _Snow_; he\nexamined the Captain what Vessels were to be met with, and promised, if\nhe could put him in the Way of meeting with a good Sailor, to let him\ngo, and give him his Vessel, or he should otherwise keep her: The poor\nMan told him, he had a Companion which would soon be in Sight, and was a\nmuch better Vessel; accordingly about 12 at Noon the same Day, which was\nthe 23d of _June_, the other Schooner hove in Sight; upon which, _Fly_\nmann'd this Prize with six Pyrates, and a Prisoner nam'd _George\nTasker_, and sent her in Chase, having himself on Board the _Snow_, no\nmore than three Pyrates, Captain _Atkinson_, (who had work'd himself\ninto some Favour with him) and fifteen forced Men; but he took Care to\nhave his Arms upon Deck by him.\nThe Men who had not taken on with _Fly_, were, _Atkinson_, Capt.\n_Fulker_'s Mate, and two Youths belonging to him; the Carpenter and\nGunner belonging formerly to Captain _Green_; six of Captain _Gate_'s\nMen, and the aforesaid _Benbrooke_, who belonged to Captain _Harris_,\nwith three of the Men out of the Schooner. _Atkinson_ seeing the\nPrisoners and forced Men were five to one of the Pyrates, thought of\ndelivering himself from the Bondage he was in; and, as by good Luck,\nseveral other Fishing Vessels hove in Sight, right a-head of the _Snow_,\nhe call'd to Captain _Fly_, and told him, he spied several other Vessels\na-head, desiring, he would come forward and bring his Glass; _Fly_ did\nso, and leaving his Arms on the Quarter-Deck, sat him on the Windlass to\nsee if he could make what they were. _Atkinson_, who had concerted his\nMeasures, with one _Walker_ and the above-mention'd _Benbrooke_, secured\nthe Arms on the Quarter-Deck, and gave them a Signal to seize _Fly_,\nwhich they did, with very little Trouble, and after made themselves\nMasters of the other three Pyrates and the _Snow_; the rest of the\nPrisoners, not knowing any Thing of, or what the Design might be,\nremaining altogether inactive, and brought the _Snow_ and Pyrates to\n_Great Brewster_, where a Guard was put on Board _June_ 28, 1726.\nSoon after, the said Pyrates were brought to their Trial, that is, on\nthe fourth of _July_ following, before the Honourable _William Dummer_,\nEsq; Lieutenant Governor and Commander in chief, of the Province of\n_Massachuset_'s Bay, President of the special Court of _Admiralty_, held\nat the Court-house of _Boston_, assisted by 18 Gentlemen of the Council,\nbefore whom they were found guilty of Murder and Pyracy, condemn'd to be\nexecuted, and accordingly were executed the 12th of _July_; _Fly_ was\norder'd to be hang'd in Chains at the Entrance of the Harbour of\n_Boston_. Thus ended the short Reign of an obdurate Wretch, who only\nwanted Skill and Power to be as infamous as any who had scoured the\nSeas; the Names of the three Pyrates, executed with him, were _Samuel\nCole_, _George Condick_ and _Henry Greenvill_.\nWe have said in another Life, _viz._ _White_'s, that he was a Lighterman\non the River _Thames_, his Father was of the Business, and had the\nCharacter of a very honest Man. After his Father's Decease, he grew very\nextravagant, and squander'd away not only what he had left his Son, but\nwhat he had allotted for his Widow Mother to our Adventurer, whose\nIndulgence putting every Thing into her Son's Hands, was follow'd by\nbeing her self turn'd out of Doors, for he sold the House over her Head.\nAfter having ruin'd himself and Mother, his Friends fearing the\nWickedness of his Inclinations would bring a Scandal upon them,\npersuaded him to go to Sea, and procur'd him a Voyage to _Jamaica_, on\nboard a Merchant Ship. At this Island he ran away from his Ship, and\nassociating himself with some desperate Fellows, they stole a Canoe, and\nwent away to the grand _Camanas_ to join some others of their own Stamp,\nwho lurked thereabouts, with Design to go on the _Account_, the Term for\nPyrating: They met those they look'd for, made up a Company of 20 Men,\nsurprized and made themselves Masters of a Turtling Sloop, and set out\nin Search of Booty.\nThe first Prizes they made were only Turtlers, which, however, encreas'd\nthe Number of their Crew, some being willing to join them, others being\nforced, with Threats of being set ashore on some desolate Key.\nThey after some Time cruizing met with an _Irish_ Brigantine, who had\nProvisions and Servants on board. They made an Exchange with the Master,\ngave him Provision to carry him to _Jamaica_, and allow'd five Hands to\ngo with him; the rest (except the Servants, who readily took on with the\nPyrates) were all forced.\nNot long after, they surprized a Sloop which had been trading on the\n_Spanish_ Coast; as she had 6 Guns, and was a fit Vessel for their Turn,\nthey chang'd her against the Brigantine; several Hands belonging to this\nSloop enter'd Voluntiers, and several more were obliged to join them by\nCompulsion.\nAfter this Capture, they steer'd for the Coast of _Virginia_, and, in\ntheir Way, met with a large _New England_ Brigantine, laden with\nProvisions, bound for _Barbadoes_. This they made Prize of; and shifting\ntheir own Guns on board her, sent the Master away in the Sloop; after\nforcing some of his Men with them. They had now a Vessel of 10 Guns, and\na Crew of 80 Men, of whom one _James_ was Captain, and _Howard_\nQuarter-Master.\nWhile they lay on the Coast of _Virginia_, they made Prize of several\nShips from _England_, out of which they took Men, Liquors, Provisions,\nCloaths, and whatever else they either liked or thought necessary. As\nthese Ships had several Felons on board, who were Transports, they had\nout of them a Number of Voluntiers, beside forced Men; so that they had\na large Complement. Among other _Virginia_ Ships which fell into their\nHands, they made Prize, with little Trouble, of a fine Galley, mounted\nwith 24 Guns, which afforded them a great many Voluntiers, as she had a\nNumber of transported Malefactors and Servants on board. They changed\ntheir Brigantine for this Ship, and soon after, the Man of War, which\nwaited on this Coast, heaving in Sight, they thought proper to take\ntheir Departure.\nFrom the Coast of _Virginia_, they shap'd their Course for that of\n_Guiney_, where they took a great many Ships of different Nations, all\nwhich they rifled of what they thought fit: Out of these Ships they\nforced on board a Number of Men, equal to the Number of those formerly\ncompell'd, who desired, and whom they permitted, to be discharged, after\nmuch Entreaty.\nAfter they had been some Months on the Coast, they spied a large three\ndeck'd _Portuguese_ Ship from _Brazil_, mounted with 36 Guns; they gave\nChase and came up with her: The Captain would make no Resistance, but\nhis Mate, who was an _Englishman_, named _Rutland_, thinking it Shame to\ngive up such a Ship, resolved to defend her; which the _Portuguese_\nCaptain consented to, but went himself out of Harm's Way. _Rutland_, who\nhad been Master of an _English_ Brigantine, taken from him on the same\nCoast by another Gang of Pyrates, fought them the better Part of a\nForenoon; but the _Portuguese_ flying the Decks, and only thirty Men,\nwho were _English_, _Dutch_, and _French_, standing by him, he was\nobliged to ask Quarters, which were given. When the Pyrates came on\nboard, they asked _Rutland_, if he was Commander? he answer'd, No. They\nenquired after him, and being told, he was somewhere in the Hold, they\nsearch'd, and found him hid in the Powder-Room; whence they hawled him\nup, and whipp'd him round the Deck for his Cowardice. _Rutland_, and\nthose who fought the Ship, they forced on board, and their Complement\nbeing now 180 Men, they exchanged their Galley for the _Portuguese_\nShip, carried her in Shore, and ripping off her upper Deck, made her\ndeep wasted, and much snugger, by cutting down some of her Gunnel. This\nPrize they named the _Alexander_.\nThey went down the Coast in this Ship, and made several Prizes, some of\nwhich they discharged, and put on board such of their forced Men as\nbegg'd their Discharge; others, they sunk, and burnt others; but forced\non board all Carpenters, Cawlkers, Armorers, Surgeons, and Musicians. In\ntheir Way to _Cape Lopez_, where they designed, and afterwards did\nclean, they found a large _Bristol_ Ship at an Anchor, which had lost a\ngreat many Men by Sickness, and had then but few healthy on board, who\ngot into the Boat, and endeavoured to get to Shore, but were prevented\nby the Pyrates: Here they changed some more of their forced Men, and did\nintend to change their Ship; but on a Survey, found the _Bristol_ Man\ntoo old for their Purpose, and therefore left her at an Anchor, after\nthey had taken what they thought of Use to them; this Ship belong'd to\none Mr. _Godly_ of _Bristol_.\nThey met with nothing else in their Way to _Cape Lopez_, where they\nclean'd their Ship, took in Wood and Water, and then stood away to Sea\nagain.\nAt their leaving _Cape Lopez_, they spied an _English_ Ship, which they\ncame up with and engaged; the Merchant Man made an obstinate Defence,\nand finding the Design to board, made to close Quarters. _Howard_ and\nseven or eight more entered, but the Pyrate's Boatswain not having\nsecured his lashing, they fell a-stern, and left these Men on board the\nMerchant-Ship, who seeing themselves in Danger, hawl'd up the Boat,\nwhich the Chace had a-stern, and, cutting the Rope, got on board the\n_Alexander_, which being considerably the larger Ship, and drawing a\ngreat deal more Water, stuck on an unknown Bank, which the Merchant Man\nwent over, and by this lucky Accident escaped.\nThis obliged the Pyrates to start their Water, and throw over the Wood\nto get the Ship off, which put 'em under a Necessity of going back to\n_Cape Lopez_ to take in those Necessaries. After having a second time\nwooded and water'd, they put again to Sea, fell in with and took two\n_Portuguese_ Brigantines, which they burnt, and setting the Men on\nShoar, they made for, and doubled the Cape of _Good Hope_, and shap'd\ntheir Course for _Madagascar_, where to the Northward of, and forty Mile\nfrom, the Bay of _Augustine_, and near a small Island, they run the Ship\non a Reef, where she stuck fast. The Captain being then sick in his Bed,\nthe Men went ashoar on the small adjacent Island, and carried off a\ngreat deal of Provision and Water to lighten the Ship, on board of which\nnone but the Captain, the Quarter-Master, and about eleven more were\nleft.\nThe Quarter-Master, who was _Howard_, with the others, took all the\nTreasure, and put it on board the Boats, made off for the Main of\n_Madagascar_; the Captain, hearing no Body stir upon Deck, made shift to\ncrawl out of his Cabbin, and seeing 'em put off, fir'd the two fore\nchace Guns at 'em, which alarm'd (to no Purpose) the Men ashoar; as the\nSea ebb'd, the Ship lay dry, and they could walk to her from the Island.\nShe might have been saved had they had the Boats to carry out an Anchor;\nbut for want of them they brought every Thing ashoar, at Tide of Flood,\nupon Rafts. As the Ship lay in a quiet Place, they had Opportunity to\nrip her up, and build a Vessel out of her Wreck. The major Part of the\nCrew being _English_ and _Dutch_, who sided together, they forced about\n36 _Portuguese_ and _French_ (thinking the Crew too numerous for their\nProvisions in their present Circumstances) to get upon a Raft, and take\ntheir Chance with the Sea-Breeze to get to the Island of _Madagascar_,\nabout 3 Leagues from them. They finish'd a Vessel of 60 Tuns, but the\nDay they design'd to have launch'd her, a Pyrate Brigantine hove in\nSight, who took 'em on board.\n_Howard_ and his Consorts stood along the West-Side of the Island, with\nDesign to round the North End, and to go to St. _Mary_'s, but finding\nthe Current too strong to stem, they lay there about a Fortnight; in the\nInterim they spied three Sail of tall Ships, which were Men of War under\nCommadore _Littleton_, (_viz._ the _Anglesea_, _Hastings_ and _Lizard_,)\nwho had carried a Pardon to the Island of St. _Mary_, accepted of by\nmany of the Pyrates. Thinking these might be also Pyrates, they made a\nSmoak, which brought the Boats ashoar; but finding they were Men of\nWar's Boats, the Pyrates thought fit to abscond, wherefore finding\nnothing, nor any Body, the said Men of War's Boats return'd, and the\nShips kept their Cruise.\nThey had here plenty of Fish and wild Hogs, which they found in the\nWood. One Day, when _Howard_ was Hunting, his Comrades took the\nOpportunity, went off, rounded the North End, and left Mr. _Howard_ to\nprovide for himself.\nAbout four or five and twenty Leagues from the Cape, they went into a\nfine Harbour on the East Side, not frequented nay, hardly known to the\n_European_ Ships. They were here received handsomely, treated and\nprovided with fresh Meat, and what Necessaries they wanted, by the King\nof this District, whose Name was _Mushmango_, who had formerly been\ndriven from _Augustine_ by War, and travelling thro' the Heart of the\nCountry, had here fixed his Settlement. When the Boats were victualled,\nand while _Johnson_, who took on him the Command after they had deserted\n_Howard_, was ashoar with three more, the rest went off with the Boats\nand Booty, and stood away to the Southward, along the Coast, designing\nfor St. _Mary_'s, going every Night into some Harbour, or coming to an\nAnchor under some Point when the Winds proved contrary.\n_Johnson_ addressed himself to the King, and told him the Boat and Goods\nwere his Property; upon which he went along Shore with a Number of Men,\nand found the Boat at an Anchor, and all asleep, except one to look out,\nat whom the King fired his Blunderbuss, and kill'd him; the Report of\nthe Piece awaken'd the others, who cut and stood off the Coast. The King\nreturn'd, gave _Johnson_ an Account of his Expedition, and furnish'd him\na Canoe, some Calabashes of fresh Water, Provisions and Launces, that he\nmight pursue after his People.\n_Johnson_ kept the Shoar on Board till he came to the Island of St.\n_Mary_'s, where he heard his Comrade Fugitives were gone to, and settled\nat _Ambonavoula_, in a Village belonging to the Natives on the River of\n_Manansallang_; leaving his Canoe, he went into one belonging to an\nInhabitant, who carried him to his Companions.\nAfter he had been here some few Months _Fourgette_, already mention'd in\n_White_'s Life, came in with his Ship from _Martinico_: With this Vessel\nthey sail'd to the West-Side, and came to an Anchor at an Island called\n_Anquawla_, 30 Leagues from the Place where they left _Howard_.\nSome of the Subjects of the King of _Anquawla_ had before met with, and\nbrought hither, Captain _Howard_, who seeing the Ship at an Anchor near\nShore, haled her, and desired the Boat might be sent to fetch him off,\nwhich was accordingly done, and he joined the rest of the Crew.\nHere two Boys ran away from them, whom they demanded of the King; but he\nnot delivering them, they went ashore by Day-Break, surpriz'd his Town,\nand brought off 12 of his Concubines, whom they detain'd on board, till\ntheir Boys, who were Blacks, were returned, and then delivered them\nback. From this Ship he went on board the _Speaker_, where he continued\ntill she was lost on _Mauritius_, when he came back to _Madagascar_, and\nsettled at _Augustine_, here he staid till the _Prosperous_, a Ship of\n36 Guns, commanded by Captain _Hilliard_, came in; which _Howard_ and\nsome other Pyrates, (with the Assistance of the Boatswain and some of\nthe Crew belonging to the Ship) seized. In the taking of this Ship, the\nCaptain and his chief Mate were killed, and several others wounded.\n_Howard_ was by the Company declared Captain.\nSeveral of the Ship's Crew took on with them, and they went round the\nSouth End to the East Side, till they came the Length of _Maritan_,\nwhere they found some of the _Speaker_'s Company, whom they took on\nboard, and made up their Complement about 70 Men.\nFrom hence they steer'd for the Island of St. _Mary_, where they heel'd\ntheir Ship, water'd, wooded, and shipp'd some more Hands: Here they had\nan Invitation from one _Ort Van Tyle_, who liv'd on the Main of\n_Madagascar_, to come to the Ceremony of christening two of his\nChildren; they were kindly received and treated by him, but it having\nbeen reported, that this _Ort Van Tyle_ had murdered some Pyrates, they\nin Revenge, tho' they had no Certainty of the Fact, took him Prisoner,\nplunder'd his House, and what Goods they could not take off in a great\nCanoe belonging to him, they threw into the River or burnt. _Ort Van\nTyle_ they design'd to carry on board, and hang at a Yard Arm, but one\nof the Pyrates help'd him to escape, and he took into the Woods, where\nmeeting some of his Blacks, he way-laid his Canoe, and _Howard_'s\nPinnace by the River Side; besides what Goods they had on board of this\n_Dutchman_'s, they had several Women and Children belonging to him, and\nsome white Men, who had left them under his Care. The Pyrates set the\nWomen to the Paddles, and the Canoe was over-set on the Bar; _Ort Van\nTyle_ fired on the Men, and shot one thro' the Arm and thro' the Thigh,\nwhom with his Comrade, he took Prisoner, and kept with him: The rest of\nthe Men got ashore on the South-Side the River and escaped him; the\nWomen on the North-Side, and returned home. When the _Pinnace_ came\ndown, he fir'd and shot the Captain thro' the Arm, but he got on board,\nwhere his Arm was set. After this, the _Prosperous_ sail'd for\n_Methelage_, where they victualled, with a Design to go to the\n_East-Indies_; while he lay here, came in a large _Dutch_ Ship, well\nmann'd, and of 40 Guns; the _Prosperous_ was not strong enough to attack\nher, and the _Dutch_ fearing he should spoil his Trade, would not meddle\nwith Captain _Howard_, tho' hard Words pass'd, and the _Dutchmen_\nthreatned to fall foul on him if he did not leave the Place, which\n_Howard_ thought fit to do, and sail'd to _Mayotta_.\nFew Days after the Departure of the _Prosperous_, Captain _Bowen_, in\nthe _Scotch_ Ship, came in, anchored within small Arm-Shot, and right\na-head of the _Dutchman_, whom he saluted with 11 Guns Shot and all,\nwhich the other returned, with 15 after the same Manner; Drums beating,\nand Trumpets sounding, on both Sides. The _Dutchman_, however, was\nsurprized, and under Apprehensions; he hal'd the Pyrate, and answer was\nreturn'd, _From the Seas_; he then bid 'em send their Boat on Board,\nwhich accordingly went with the Quarter-Master, who told the Captain,\nthat they had no Design on him, but were going against the _Moors_, and\ncame in for Provision; he replied, they could get none there, and the\nbest Way was to be gone; however the Quarter-Master went ashore (where\nthe _Dutch_ had made his Factory, and had some Goods) and shot down\nthree Oxen, which he ordered the Natives to help to cut in Pieces; the\n_Dutchman_ perceiving a Friendship between the Natives and Pyrates,\nseeing _Bowen_ full of Men, and hearing two more Pyrates were expected,\nthought fit to go off in the Night, and leave the Goods he had put on\nshore.\nFew Days after _Bowen_ seizing the Goods left, went for _Mayotta_, where\nhe join'd the _Prosperous_, and lay for the Season to go to the\n_East-Indies_. After some Stay here, their Salt Provisions perishing,\nthey return'd to _Madagascar_ to revictual, _Bowen_ to St. _Augustin_'s,\nand _Howard_ (on board of whose Ship was Captain _Whaley_, taken as is\nsaid in _Bowen_'s Life) to _Methelage_, agreeing to meet at the Island\nof St. _John_'s, to lie for the _Moors_ Fleet; where, after some\nDisappoints, they met, and got Sight of the _Moors_ Fleet, one of which\nfell a Prize to _Bowen_; but the _Prosperous_ being a heavy Sailor, did\nnot come up with them till they were at an Anchor at the Bar of _Surat_,\nwhere they waited to lighten. The _Moors_, seeing few Hands on board,\nfor _Howard_ concealed his Men; and not imagining a Pyrate would venture\nup, they concluded him an _English East-India_ Man: _Howard_ clapp'd the\nlargest on board, which stood him a smart Engagement, and killed him\nabout 30 Men. At length the Pyrates forced Captain _Whaley_, who spoke\nthe _Moors_ Language, to go on board and offer Quarter, which they\naccepted: There was on board this Prize a Nobleman belonging to the\nGreat _Mogul_, who had been at _Juffa_ to buy Horses for his Master; the\nPrize yielded them a great Booty, tho' they found but Part of the Money\nwhich was on board. They intended to carry her to _Madagascar_, but her\nBowsprit being wounded in the boarding, she lost all her Masts,\nwherefore, they set her a-drift, and she ran ashore at _Deman_,\nbelonging to the _Portuguese_.\nFrom hence he steer'd to the _Malabar_ Coast, where he met _Bowen_ in\nhis Prize, which mounted 56 Guns; here a Dispute arose, as shall be\nmention'd in the Appendix of _Bowen_'s Life, both Crews went on board\n_Bowen_, sunk the _Prosperous_, and burnt the _Scotch_ Ship, called the\n_Speedy Return_: Hence they stood along the Coast of _India_, and\n_Howard_, with about 20 more, landed with what they had, and retired\namong the Natives, where _Howard_ married a Woman of the Country, and\nbeing a morose ill natur'd Fellow, and using her ill, he was murder'd by\nher Relations.\nThis worthy Gentleman was an early Pyrate; we first find him a Boy on\nBoard the Pyrate _Banister_, who was hang'd at the Yard Arm of a Man of\nWar in sight of _Port-Royal_ in _Jamaica_. This _Lewis_ and another Boy\nwere taken with him, and brought into the Island hanging by the Middle\nat the Mizzen-Peak. He had a great Aptitude for Languages, and spoke\nperfectly well that of the _Mosquill Indians_, the _French_, _Spanish_\nand _English_. I mention our own, because it is doubted whether he was\n_French_ or _English_, for we cannot trace him back to his Original.\nHe sailed out of _Jamaica_ till he was a lusty Lad, and was then taken\nby the _Spaniards_ at the _Havana_, where he staid some Time; but at\nlength he and six more ran away with a small Canoe, and surprized a\n_Spanish_ Periagua, out of which two Men joined them, so that they were\nnow nine in Company: With this Periagua they suprized a Turtleing Sloop,\nand forced some of the Hands to take on with them, the others they sent\naway in the Periagua.\nHe play'd at this small Game, surprising and taking Coasters and\nTurtlers, till with forced Men and Voluntiers he made up a Complement of\n40 Men.\nWith these he took a large Pink built Ship, bound from _Jamaica_ to the\nBay of _Campeachy_, and after her several others bound to the said Bay;\nand having Intelligence that there lay in the Bay a fine _Bermudas_\nbuilt Brigantine of 10 Guns, commanded by Captain _Tucker_; he sent the\nCaptain of the Pink to him with a Letter, the Purport of which was, that\nhe wanted such a Brigantine, and if he would part with her, he would pay\nhim honestly 10000 Pieces of Eight; if he refused this, he would take\nCare to lie in his Way, for he was resolved, either by fair or foul\nMeans, to have the Vessel. Captain _Tucker_ having read the Letter, sent\nfor the Masters of Vessels then lying in the Bay, and told them, after\nhe had shewn the Letter, that if they would made him up 54 Men (for\nthere were about 10 _Bermudas_ Sloops) he would go out and fight the\nPyrates. They said, No, they would not hazard their Men, they depended\non their Sailing, and every one must take Care of himself as well as he\ncould.\nHowever, they all put to Sea together, and spied a Sail under the Land,\nwhich had a Breeze while they lay becalmed; some said he was a Turtler,\nothers, the Pyrate, and so it proved; for it was honest Captain _Lewis_,\nwho putting out his Oars, got in among them. Some of the Sloops had four\nGuns, some two, some none. _Joseph Dill_ had two, which he brought on\none Side, and fired smartly at the Pyrate, but unfortunately one of them\nsplit, and killed him three Men. _Tucker_ called to all the Sloops to\nsend him Men, and he would fight _Lewis_, but to no Purpose; no Body\ncame on board him. In the mean while a Breeze sprung up, and _Tucker_\ntrimming his Sails left them, who all fell a Prey to the Pyrate; into\nwhom however he fired a Broadside at going off. One Sloop, whose Master\nI won't Name, was a very good Sailer, and was going off; but _Lewis_\nfiring a Shot at him, brought her to, and he lay by till all the Sloops\nwere visited and secured. Then _Lewis_ sent on board him, and ordered\nthe Master into his Sloop. As soon as he was aboard, he asked the Reason\nof his lying by, and betraying the Trust his Owners had reposed in him,\nwhich was doing like a Knave and Coward, and he would punish him\naccordingly; for, he said, you might have got off, being so much a\nbetter Sailer than my Vessel. After this Speech he fell upon him with a\nRope's End, and then snatching up his Cane, drove him about the Decks\nwithout Mercy. The Master, thinking to pacify him, told him he had been\nout trading in that Sloop several Months, and had on board a good\nQuantity of Money, which was hid, and which, if he would send on board a\nBlack belonging to the Owners, he would discover it to him.\nThis had not the desired Effect, but one quite contrary; for _Lewis_\ntold him he was a Rascal and Villain for this Discovery, and, by G--d,\nhe would pay him for betraying his Owners, and redoubled his Strokes.\nHowever, he sent and took the Money and Negroe, who was an able Sailor.\nHe took out of his Prizes what he had occasion for, 40 able Negroe\nSailors, and a white Carpenter; the largest Sloop, which was about 90\nTuns, he took for his own Use, and mounted her with 12 Guns; his Crew\nwas now about 80 Men, Whites and Blacks.\nAfter these Captures he cruised in the Gulf of _Florida_, lying in wait\nfor the _West-India_ homeward bound Ships which took the Leeward\nPassage, several of which falling into his Hands were plundered by him,\nand released; from hence he went to the Coast of _Carolina_, where he\ncleaned his Sloop, and a great many Men, whom he had forced, ran away\nfrom him; however, the Natives traded with him for Rum and Sugar, and\nbrought him all he wanted, without the Government's having any Knowledge\nof him, for he had got into a very private Creek; tho' he was very much\non his Guard, that he might not be surprized from the Shoar.\nFrom _Carolina_ he cruized on the Coast of _Virginia_, where he took and\nplunder'd several Merchant Men, and forced several Men, and then\nreturn'd to the Coast of _Carolina_, where he did abundance of Mischief.\nAs he had now abundance of _French_ on board who had entered with him,\nand _Lewis_ hearing the _English_ had a Design to Maroon them, he\nsecured the Men he suspected, and put them in a Boat, with all the other\n_English_, 10 Leagues from Shoar, with only 10 Pieces of Beef, and sent\nthem away, keeping none but _French_ and Negroes; these Men, it is\nsupposed, all perished in the Sea.\nFrom the Coast of _Carolina_ he shaped his Course for the Banks of\n_Newfoundland_, where he overhawled several Fishing Vessels, and then\nwent into a commodious Harbour, where he cleaned his Sloop, and went\ninto _Trinity Harbour_ in _Conception Bay_, where there lay several\nMerchants, and siezed a 24 Gun Galley, called the _Herman_: The\nCommander, Captain _Beal_, told _Lewis_, if he would send his\nQuarter-Master ashoar he would furnish him with Necessaries. He being\nsent ashoar, a Council was held among the Masters, the Consequence of\nwhich was, the seizing the Quarter-Master, whom they carried to Captain\n_Woodes Rogers_; he chained him to a Sheet Anchor which was ashoar, and\nplanted Guns at the Point, to prevent the Pyrate getting out, but to\nlittle Purpose; for the People from one of these Points firing too soon,\n_Lewis_ quitted the Ship, and, by the Help of Oars and the Favour of the\nNight, got out in his Sloop, though she received many Shot in her Hull.\nThe last Shot that was fired at the Pyrate did him considerable Damage.\nHe lay off and on the Harbour, swearing he would have his\nQuarter-Master, and intercepted two fishing Shallops, on board of one\nwas the Captain of the Galley's Brother; he detained them, and sent\nWord, if his Quarter-Master did not immediately come off, he would put\nall his Prisoners to Death; he was sent on board him without Hesitation.\n_Lewis_ and the Crew enquired, how he had been used? and he answered,\nvery civilly. Its well, said the Pyrate; for had you been ill treated, I\nwould have put all these Rascals to the Sword. They were dismiss'd, and\nthe Captain's Brother going over the Side, the Quarter-Master stopp'd\nhim, saying, he must drink the Gentlemens Health ashoar, in particular\nCaptain _Rogers_', and, whispering him in the Ear, told him, if the Crew\nhad known of his being chain'd all Night, he would have been cut in\nPieces, with all his Men. After this poor Man and his Shallop's Company\nwere gone, the Quarter-Master told the Usage he had met with, which\nenraged _Lewis_, and made him reproach his Quarter-Master, whose Answer\nwas, that he did not think it just the Innocent should suffer for the\nGuilty.\nThe Masters of the Merchant Men sent to Captain _Tudor Trevor_, who lay\nat St. _John_'s in the _Sheerness_ Man of War; he immediately got under\nSail, and miss'd the Pyrate but four Hours.\nShe kept along the Coast, and made several Prizes, _French_ and\n_English_, and put into a Harbour where a _French_ Ship lay making Fish:\nShe was built at the latter End of the War for a Privateer, was an\nexcellent Sailer, and mounted 24 Guns. The Commander haled him; the\nPyrate answered, from _Jamaica_ with Rum and Sugar. The _French_ Man bid\nhim go about his Business; that a Pyrate Sloop was on the Coast, and he\nmight be the Rogue; if he did not immediately sheer off he would fire a\nBroadside into him. He went off and lay a Fortnight out at Sea, so far\nas not to be descry'd from Shoar, with Resolution to have the Ship. The\n_French_ Man being on his Guard, in the mean while raised a Battery on\nthe Shoar, which commanded the Harbour. After a Fortnight, when he was\nthought to be gone off, he return'd, and took two of the fishing\nShallops belonging to the _French_ Man, and manning them with Pyrates,\nthey went in; one Shallop attack'd the Battery, the other surpriz'd,\nboarded, and carry'd the Ship, just as the Morning Star appear'd, for\nwhich Reason he gave her that Name. In the Engagement the Owner's Son\nwas kill'd, who made the Voyage out of Curiosity only. The Ship being\ntaken, 7 Guns were fired, which was the Signal, and the Sloop came down\nand lay a Long-side the Ship. The Captain told him, he suppos'd he only\nwanted his Liquor; but _Lewis_ made Answer, he wanted his Ship, and\naccordingly hoisted all his Ammunition and Provision into her. When the\n_French_ Man saw they would take away his Ship, he sold her Trim, and\n_Lewis_ gave him the Sloop; and, excepting what he took for Provision,\nall the Fish he had made. Several of the _French_ took on with him, who,\nwith others, _English_ and _French_, had by Force or voluntarily, made\nhim up 200 Men.\nFrom _Newfoundland_ he steer'd for the Coast of _Guiney_, where he took\na great many Ships, _English_, _Dutch_, and _Portuguese_; among these\nShips was one belonging to _Carolina_, commanded by Captain _Smith_.\nWhile he was in Chace of this Vessel an Accident happen'd, which made\nhis Men believe he dealt with the Devil; for he carried away his Fore\nand Main-Top Mast; and he, _Lewis_, running up the Shrouds to the\nMain-Top, tore off a Handful of Hair, and throwing it into the Air, used\nthis Expression, _Good Devil take this till I come_: And, it was\nobserved, that he came afterwards faster up with the Chace than before\nthe Loss of his Top-Masts.\n_Smith_ being taken, _Lewis_ used him very civilly, and gave him as\nmuch, or more in Value, than he took from him, and let him go, saying,\nhe would come to _Carolina_ when he had made Money on the Coast, and\nwould rely on his Friendship.\nThey kept some Time on the Coast, when they quarrell'd among themselves,\nthe _French_ and _English_, of which the former was more numerous, and\nthey resolved to part: The _French_ therefore chose a large Sloop newly\ntaken, thinking the Ship's Bottom, which was not Sheath'd, damaged by\nthe Worms.\nAccording to this Agreement they took on board what Ammunition and\nProvision they thought fit out of the Ship, and put off, chusing one _le\nBarre_ Captain. As it blew hard, and the Decks were encumbered, they\ncame to an Anchor under the Coast, to stow away their Ammunition, Goods,\n_&c._ _Lewis_ told his Men, they were a Parcel of Rogues, and he would\nmake 'em refund; accordingly run a Long-side his Guns, being all loaded\nand new primed, and ordered him to cut away his Mast, or he would sink\nhim. _Le Barre_ was obliged to obey. Then he ordered them all ashoar;\nthey begged to have Liberty of carrying their Arms, Goods, _&c._ with\n'em, but he allow'd 'em only their small Arms, and Cartridge Boxes. Then\nhe brought the Sloop a Long-side, put every Thing on board the Ship, and\nsunk the Sloop.\n_Le Barre_ and the rest begg'd to be taken on board; however, though he\ndenied 'em, he suffered _le Barre_ and some few to come, with whom he\nand his Men drank plentifully. The Negroes on board _Lewis_ told him,\nthe _French_ had a Plot against him. He answer'd, he could not withstand\nhis Destiny; for the Devil told him in the great Cabin, he should be\nmurdered that Night.\nIn the dead of Night came the rest of the _French_ on board in Canoes,\ngot into the Cabbin and killed _Lewis_; they fell on the Crew, but,\nafter an Hour and Half's Dispute, the _French_ were beat off, and the\nQuarter-Master, _John Cornelius_, an _Irish_ Man, succeeded _Lewis_.\nHaving now the Command of the _Morning Star_, _Cornelius_ kept on the\nCoast, and made several Prizes both _English_ and _Portuguese_; the\nformer he always discharged, after he had taken what he thought fitting,\nbut the latter he commonly burnt.\nWhile he was thus ravaging the Coast, two _English_ Ships which had\nslaved at _Whydah_, one of 36 Guns, and the other of 12, which fought\nclose, were ready to sail; and having Notice of a Pyrate, who had done\ngreat Mischief, resolved to keep Company together for their Defence. The\nCaptain of the small Ship lay sick in his Cabbin, and she was left to\nthe Care of the Mates. When they had got under Sail, 200 Negroes jump'd\nover board from the larger Ships, which obliged her to bring to and get\nout her Boats; the Mate of the other went into the Cabbin, told the\nAccident, and advised lying by, and sending their Boats to assist their\nConsort; but the Captain being ill, and willing to get off the Coast,\nbid him keep on his Way, for it would be dangerous, having 400 Slaves on\nboard, and being but weakly mann'd, when the Boats were gone they might\nrise upon him. The Mate urged the Danger of the Pyrates, should they\nleave their Consort. The Captain answered, the Seas were wide, and he\nwould not bring to; accordingly they kept on their Way with a fresh\nGale.\nTwo Days after, the Mate about Eight in the Morning, ordered a Man to\nthe Mast-head, who spied a Sail, which made them prepare for an\nEngagement. There was on board one _Joseph Williams_, who had served the\n_African_ Company three Years on the _Guiney_ Coast, who spoke the\nNegroe Tongue very well; he told the Slaves he had pick'd out to the\nNumber of 50, that the Ship in Sight he believed would fight them, and\nif they got the better, would certainly, as they were Cannibals, kill\nand eat them all, and therefore it behoved them to fight for their\nLives; they had Lances and small Arms given them.\nAbout Ten _Cornelius_ came up with them, and being haled, answered, he\nwas a Man of War, in Search of Pyrates, and bid them send their Boat on\nboard; but they refusing to trust him, tho' he had _English_ Colours and\nPendent aboard, the Pyrate fired a Broadside, and they began a running\nFight of about 10 Hours, in which Time the Negroes discharged their Arms\nso smartly, that _Cornelius_ never durst attempt to board. About 8 at\nNight the Ship blew up abaft, they immediately cut the Lashings of the\nLong-Boat, but the Ship going down they had not Time to get her out, and\nbarely enough to launch the Yawl, which lay on the Forecastle. The Ship\nwent down on one Side, and _Joseph Williams_ running on the other was\nhook'd by the Mizzen-Truss, and was carried down with her; but having\nhis Knife in his Hand, and a great Presence of Mind, he cut the\nWast-band of his Trowzers where he was catch'd, got clear, and swam\nafter the Boat, into which about 16 had gotten, and either knock'd those\non the Head, or cut off their Hands, who laid hold on it; however, with\nmuch Entreaty, he was permitted to lay one Hand on to ease him: They\nmade to the Pyrate, who refused to receive them, without they would\nenter with him, which, to save their Lives, they all agreed to, and was\nthen civilly received, and dry Cloaths given them; these and one Negroe\nwere all the Souls saved.\nIn a little Time after this he took two _Portuguese_ Ships, which he\nplundered and kept with him; and one foggy Morning hearing the firing of\nGuns, which, by the distance of Time, he judg'd to be Minute Guns, as\nthey really were, for the Death of an _English_ Commander; he called his\nMen on board from the Prizes, sent them about their Business, and\ndirected his Course by the Report of the Canon he had heard.\nIn about two Hours he spied the Ship that had fired, came up with her\nvery soon, and took her without Resistance. The Officers of the Ship\nwhich blew up, finding this Prize _English_, and that the Pyrate did not\nintend to detain it, begg'd to be discharged, as they had all large\nFamilies, which must perish without their Support.\n_Cornelius_ taking them into Consideration, discharged Mr. _Powis_ of\n_Limehouse_, who has since been a Commander, and raised a Fortune; the\nthen chief Mate, Mr. _George Forelong_, the Boatswain, Carpenter, and\nother married Men, set them on board the Prize, and was very generous to\nthem out of the Plunder of the _Portuguese_ Ships, because they had made\na broken Voyage; but _Joseph Williams_ and the Batchelors he detained,\nand forced some out of the Prize, which he let go.\nAfter this he took three _Portuguese_ Ships at an Anchor, which he\nplundered and burnt, after he had hove down by one of them; he continued\nsome Time longer on the Coast, did a great Deal of Mischief to the\nTrade, and forced a great many Men: These he put to do all the Slavery\nof the Ship, and they were beat about the Decks, without daring to\nstrike again. I shall take Notice of an Instance of this Kind, to shew\nhow far Revenge will carry a Man. One _Robert Bland_ was at Helm, and\ncalled _Joseph Williams_ to take the Whipstaff, till he went to play,\n_Williams_ refused it; upon which _Bland_ drubb'd him with the Lanyard\nof the Whipstaff very severely, _Williams_ that he might revenge\nhimself, and have Liberty to fight _Bland_, went that Instant and\nentered himself a Voluntier in the Ships Books, and ask'd Leave to fight\n_Bland_, which was allowed him, but with no other Weapons than his\nFists; he, however, challenged his Antagonist, who was too hard for him;\nso that he turned Pyrate to be heartily thresh'd.\n_Cornelius_ thinking they had been long enough on the _Guiney_ Coast,\ndoubled the Cape, off which he spied the _Lizard_ and two more Men of\nWar, under the Command of Commadore _Littleton_; _Cornelius_ was for\ngiving Chase, but finding his Men unwilling, there being, as they gave\nfor Reason, 70 forc'd Men on board, and these Ships being, as they\nsuspected, Men of War, he made the best of his Way for _Madagascar_,\nwent up the River _Methelage_, on the West Side, and anchored against\n_Pombotoque_, a small Village of Blacks.\nThe Quarter-Master went ashore, and the black Governor examined him, for\nseveral of these Blacks speak _English_; he told the Governor they were\ncome for Provision and to trade: Upon which he sent a Couple of Oxen on\nboard, and then ordered some of the Inhabitants to go up with the\nQuarter-Master to the King. The Boat's Crew seeing a Number of Blacks\ncome upon the Strand without the Quarter-Master, apprehended some\nMischief had befallen him; but were eas'd of their Fears, when they saw\ntwo Oxen given them, and were told, the white Man, who was gone to the\nKing, would be back next Day, it not being above 20 Miles from the\nShore.\nWhen the Quarter-Master, who carried up a Blunderbuss, a fine Gun, and a\nPair of Pistols, for a Present to the King, told him they wanted\nProvisions, he asked where they were bound? To which he answered, to\nseek their Fortunes, for, at present, they were very poor. Look ye,\nreplied the King, I require nothing of you, all white Men I look upon as\nmy Children; they help'd me to conquer this Country, and all the Cattle\nin it is at their Service. I will send you down Provisions enough, and\nwhen that is spent you shall have more; he accordingly sent 1000 Head of\nCattle, out of which he bid them chuse what they would, and they salted\nup a 100 fat Oxen.\nIt may be an Amusement to the Reader to have a short History of this\nKing, who was called _Andian Chimenatto_, that is, King _Chimenatto_: He\nwas 2d Son of _Andian Lifouchy_, whose Country lay between _Methelage_\nand St. _Augustine_, his elder Brother was _Timanangarivo_.\nAt the Death of _Andian Lyfouchy_, _Chimenatto_, assisted by a younger\nBrother, and a great Number of the People, endeavour'd to wrest the\nKingdom from his elder Brother _Timanangarivo_; but he was defeated, and\nwith his Party obliged to retire, however, he still made War upon his\nBrother, till he was, by repeated Losses, very much weaken'd, and\napprehensive of being attack'd by him; he retir'd farther Northward,\nwhere he made War on _Andian Methelage_, but without great Success, so\nthat he settled on a Point of Land by the Sea-Coast, where the\n_Tyloutes_, that is, Inhabitants of the Sea, who are descended from the\n_Arabs_, and the _Vaujimbos_, who are esteem'd the meanest Cast on the\nwhole Island, were very vexatious and troublesome to him, and kept him\nin continual Alarms.\nIn the mean while a couple of Ships arrived at _Yungowl_ (the Country of\n_Timanangarivo_) belonging to _Frederick Phillips_, of _New York_, to\nslave; but hearing the old King was dead, who had a great Respect for\nthe Whites, and that _Timanangarivo_ had cut off the Crew of a\nBrigantine, on Pretence that they had poison'd his Father _Andian\nLyfouchy_, for he drunk on board her so much Brandy that he died of it;\nthey would not stay here, but went farther on the Coast to look for\nTrade.\n_Andian Chimenatto_ spying them, caused a Smoak to be made, which\nbrought one of their Boats on Shoar; _Chimenatto_ received the Crew very\ncivilly, and invited the Ships in, promising Trade.\nThe Commanders ask'd if he had Slaves? He said he had but few; however,\nif they would allow some of their Men to go with him to War, he would\nslave both Ships: They answered, that _Timanangarivo_ his Brother, had\nmurder'd some of their Countrymen, and they could put no Confidence in\nhim; upon which he gave them the History of his Wars, said his Brother\nwas a wicked Man for what he had done; but if they would send some Men\nwith him, he would give his Wives and nearest Relations for Hostages, to\nbe kept on board.\nThis was agreed to, and _Chimenatto_ furnished them with as much fresh\nProvision as they could dispose of; twenty Whites went with him to War,\nand they took a Town and a great Number of Slaves, out of whom he\nordered the Captain to pick and cull what they pleas'd; they asked the\nPrice, he said, he required nothing, if they would let their Men go out\nonce more. They went on a second Expedition, took several Towns, and\nbrought down some thousand Slaves, beside great Droves of Cattle.\nThe two Ships took their Choice of about 6000 Slaves, which with fresh\nProvision, and Provision for their Voyage, cost them only 2 or 3 Barrels\nof Powder, and a few Arms.\nThe King told them, if they would leave those Men and come again, he\nwould again slave them for nothing; the Men being willing to stay, the\nShips sail'd, came again the next Season, were slaved according to\nPromise, and relieved those whites, such of them as would return, and\nleft others, who were willing, in their Steads. With this Assistance\n_Chimenatto_ soon conquered the _Antylouts_ and _Vaujimbos_, and\nafterwards made himself Master of the whole Country of _Methelage_, of\nsuch Reputation are the _Europeans_ among these People, for they who\nhave a white Man on their Side go on as to certain Victory; and the\nSight of a white Man against them is such a Damp to their Spirits, that\ndespairing of Success, they are preparing for Flight before they engage.\nBut to return, besides the Present of Oxen, the King sent 100 Blacks\nladen with Rice. _Cornelius_ sent him a Present of 2 Barrels of Powder,\nand would have given him more, with small Arms in Return, but he sent\nthem Word he would have no more, nor any of their Arms, not being in\nWant of either; on the contrary, if they wanted he would send them ten\nBarrels of Powder, as they were his Children; bid them proceed on their\nVoyage, and if they were richer when they came back, and would send him\nany Present, he would accept it, but not now that they were poor.\nHere _Cornelius_ lost 70 Men by their Excesses, having been long without\nfresh Provision, the eating immoderately, drinking Toke (a Liquor made\nof Honey) to Excess, and being too free with the Women, they fell into\nviolent Fevers, which carried them off.\nThe Blacks having given _Cornelius_ an Account of the _Speaker_'s being\nsail'd from _Methelage_ about three Months before for the _East-Indies_,\nhe, having taken in his Provisions, steer'd the same Course, in Hopes to\njoin in Consort with her; but the _Speaker_ lying off the _Red Sea_, and\nthe _Morning Star_ going into the Gulf of _Persia_ they never met: They\nrun up a pretty Way in the Gulf, and lay under _Antelope_ Island, where\nthey kept a Look-out, and whence they made their Excursions, and took a\nNumber of Prizes.\nHere they designed to heave down and clean, and they had got a good Part\nof their Goods and Water Casks ashore, when the Look-out discovered two\ntall Ships, one of them wearing a Flag at the Foretop-Mast Head; this\nput them into a great Confusion, they got what Casks and Necessaries\nthey could on board, and lay till the Ships came a-breast of them; then\nthey got under Sail at once, their Sails being furl'd with Rope Yarns,\nand came close along-side the larger Ship, which was a _Portuguese_ of\n70 Guns, as the other was of 26; they exchanged a Broadside with her,\nand the smaller Ship engaged her so close, that they threw Hand Grenades\ninto each other; but _Cornelius_'s Business was to run, and the great\nShip put a Stays twice to follow him, but missing, was obliged to Ware,\nwhich gave the Pyrate a great Advantage; the small Ship in staying,\ntail'd aground, she, however, gave Chase till she had run a good Way\na-head of her Consort, which the Pyrate seeing, brought to, and stay'd\nfor her, as did the _Portuguese_ for her Consort, not caring to engage\nhim singly. When it was quite dark _Cornelius_ ran up the other Shore,\npass'd the _Portuguese_ Ships (which kept down the Gulf) and came again\nto Anchor at his old Station, where he found his Enemies had been ashore\nin their Boats and staved his Casks; he here cleaned, and finding no\nMoney to be got out of any Prizes made, and Bale Goods being of little\nValue to them, they from hence went away to the Island of _Johanna_,\nwhere it was designed to moroon the Blacks, who were the greater Number,\nand all bred among the _English_; _Joseph Williams_, fearing they would\nnext moroon the _English_, who were not above a third of the whites,\ngave the Negroes Notice of the Design, who secured all the Arms of the\nShip, and gave _Williams_ the Command till they should get to\n_Madagascar_, keeping a good Guard on the _French_ and _Dutch_. When\nthey came to _Methelage_ they gave the Ship to the King, her Bottom\nbeing eaten so much with the Worms, that she was no longer fit for\nService; and they all went and lived with the new King _Chimave_, Son to\n_Andian Chimenatto_, who died before their Return: About five Months\nafter they broke up, _Cornelius_ died, and was buried with the usual\nCeremony.\nThis Man was born in _Wales_, of very poor Parents, who bred him up to\nthe Plough and the following of Sheep, the only Things he had any Notion\nof till he went to Sea. He was never esteem'd among the Pyrates as a Man\nof good natural Parts, perhaps, on account of his Ignorance of Letters,\nfor, as he had no Education, he knew as little of the sailing a Ship,\nset aside the Business of a foremast Man, as he did of History, in\nwhich, and natural Philosophy, he was equally vers'd: He was of a\nmorose, sour, unsociable Temper, very cholerick, and easily resented as\nan Affront what as brave and a more knowing Man would not think worth\nNotice; but he was not cruel, neither did he turn Pyrate from a wicked\nor avaritious Inclination, but by Necessity, and we may say, tho' he was\nno forced Man, he could not well avoid that Life he fell into.\nWhen he was grown a lusty Lad he would see the World, and go seek his\nFortune, as the Term is among the Country Youths, who think fit to\nwithdraw themselves from the Subjection of their Parents; with this Whim\nin his Head he got to _Chester_, where he was received, and sailed on\nboard a Coaster, till he had made himself acquainted with the Rigging,\nlearned to knot, splice, and do the other Parts of a common Sailor's\nDuty; then coming to _London_, he shipp'd himself on board the _Mary\nIndia_ Man, bound for _Bengal_ and _Maderas_, which Voyage he performed\noutward, and it was not his Fault that he did not come home in the same\nShip; for, in her Return, falling short of Water, they steer'd for the\nIsland of _Madagascar_, and fell in with the East Side, in the Lat. of\n20, or thereabouts. The Captain mann'd and sent ashore the Long-Boat to\nseek for Water, but a large Surf running, she came to an Anchor, at some\nlittle Distance from Shore, and _David Williams_ with another, being\nboth good Swimmers, stripp'd and swam off in Search of Water: While they\nwere ashore, the Wind which blew full upon the Island and freshning, the\nSurf ran too high for them to get off; and the Long-Boat, after waiting\nsome time, seeing no Possibility of getting these Men on board, weigh'd\nand stood for the Ship, which filled her Sails and stood for St.\n_Augustine_'s Bay, where she watered and proceeded on her Voyage.\nThus our poor _Welshman_ and his Companion were left destitute on an\nIsland altogether unknown to them, without Cloaths or Subsistance, but\nwhat the Fruits of the Trees offer'd. They rambled some little Time\nalong the Coast, and were met with by the Natives, and by them carried\nup into the Country, where they were humanly treated, and provided with\nall the Necessaries of Life, tho' this was not sufficient to expel his\nConsort's Melancholy, who took his being left behind so much to Heart,\nthat he sicken'd and died in a very little Time.\nSome time after, the Prince of the Country, who entertained _Williams_,\nhad a Quarrel with a neighbouring King, which broke into a War.\n_Williams_ took the Field with his Patron, but the Enemy being superior\nin Number, got the Victory, and took a great many Prisoners, among whom\nwas the unfortunate _Welshman_: The King, whose Prisoner he was, treated\nhim very kindly; and being Master of an old Musket, gave it him, saying,\n'such Arms were better in the Hands of a white Man than in those of any\nof his Subjects, who were not so much used to them; that he should be\nhis Friend and Companion, and should fare as well as himself, if he\nwould assist him in his Wars.'\nIt will not be amiss here to take Notice, that this Island, on the East\nSide, is divided into a great Number of Principalities or Kingdoms,\nwhich are almost in continual War one with another; the Grounds of which\nare very trivial, for they will pick a Quarrel with a Neighbour,\nespecially, if he has a Number of Cattle (in which, and Slaves, consist\ntheir Riches) on the slightest Occasion, that they may have an\nOpportunity of Plunder; and when a Battle or two is lost, the conquer'd\nmakes his Peace, by delivering up such a certain Number of Bullocks and\nSlaves as shall be demanded by the victorious Prince. On the West Side\nof the Island, the Principalities are mostly reduced under one Prince,\nwho resides near _Methelage_, and who is, as we have said in the Lives\nof other Pyrates, a great Friend to white Men; for his Father, who\nfounded his Empire by the Assistance of the _Europeans_, left it in\nCharge with his Son, to assist them with what Necessaries they should\nrequire, and do them all friendly Offices; but if he disobeyed this\nCommand, and should ever fall out with the white Men, or spill any of\ntheir Blood, he threaten'd to come again, turn him out of his Kingdom,\nand give it to his younger Brother. These Menaces had a very great\nEffect upon him, for he firmly believed his Father would, on his\nDisobedience, put them in Execution; for there is not on Earth, a Race\nof Men equally superstitious.\nBut to return to _Williams_, he lived with this Prince in great\nTranquility, and was very much esteem'd by him (for Necessity taught him\nComplaisance) after some time, his new Patron was informed, that his\nvanquish'd Enemy had form'd a grand Alliance, in order to make War upon\nhim; wherefore, he resolved to begin, and march into the Countries of\nthe Allies, and ravage the nearest before they could join their Forces.\nHe rais'd an Army, and accordingly march'd Southward; at the News of his\nApproach, the Inhabitants abandoned all the small Towns, and sending\nMessengers to their Friends, rais'd a considerable Body to oppose him,\nsuffering him to over-run a great Deal of Ground without Molestation. At\nlength being reinforced, they took their Opportunity, and setting upon\nhim when his Men were fatigued, and his Army incumber'd with Booty, they\ngained a signal Victory; the King had the good Luck to get off, but\n_Williams_ was a second Time taken Prisoner.\nHe was carried before the Conqueror, who, (having been an Eye-witness of\nhis Bravery, for _Williams_ kill'd a Number of his Enemies with his\nShot, and behav'd very well, defending himself with the Butt End of his\nMusket for some Time, when he was surrounded) reach'd him his Hand, and\ntold him, he made War with his Enemies only, that he did not esteem the\nWhite Men such, but should be glad of their Friendship.\nHere _Williams_ was used with more Respect than he had been even by his\nlast Patron, and lived with this Prince some Years; but a War breaking\nout, he was routed in a set Battle, in which _Williams_ was his\nCompanion; in the Pursuit the poor _Welshman_ finding he could not get\noff, clapp'd his Musket at the Foot of a Tree, and climbing up, he\ncapitulated: He was now terribly afraid of being cut to Pieces, for he\nhad shot and wounded a great Number of the Enemy; they, however,\npromis'd him good Quarter, and kept their Word.\nThe King of _Maratan_, who took him, used him as well as any of the\nformer had done; and carried him always with him to the Wars, in which\nFortune was more propitious, for the Parties _Williams_ commanded had\nconstantly the better of their Enemies, and never returned but with\ngreat Booties of Cattle and Slaves, for all the Prisoners they take are\nso, till redeem'd; tho' these Prisoners are, for the most part, Women\nand Children, they seldom giving Quarter to any other.\nThe Fame of his Bravery and Success, spread it self round the Country;\nand his Name alone was so terrible, that the giving out he was at the\nHead of any Party, was giving the Enemies an Overthrow without a Battle.\nThis reaching the Ears of _Dempaino_, a mighty Prince who lived 200\nMiles from him, and who had several Petty Princes Tributaries, he sent\nan Embassador to demand the White Man; but his Patron, who had no Mind\nto part with him, denied that he had any White Man with him, that he who\nwas called so was a Native of the Country. For the Readers better\nunderstanding this Passage, I must inform him, that there is a Race of\nwhat they call White Men, who have been settled on _Madagascar_, Time\nout of Mind, and are descended from the _Arabs_; but mixing with the\nNegroes, have propagated a Race of Molattoes, who differ in nothing from\nthe Manner of living of the Black Natives.\nTo proceed, the Embassador desired to see this Man, and _Williams_\ncoming to him, being extremely tann'd, he had pass'd for what he was\nreported, had he been before apprized of what had been said, to have\nanswered accordingly, for he spoke the Language perfectly; or had the\nEmbassador not examined him; who, after he had some Time viewed him,\nask'd of what Country he was, and whether it was true that he was one of\n_Madagascar_? _Williams_ answered, he was an _Englishman_, and was left\nin the Country, relating the Particulars, as I have already set them\ndown, adding, he had been five Years in the Island.\nThe Embassador then told the King, that he must send the White Man with\nhim, for such were the Orders of his Master the great _Dempaino_, who\nwas Lord over most of the Kings on the Side the Country where he\nresided; and that it would be dangerous for him to disobey the Commands\nof so great a Monarch.\nThe King answered, those who were subject to _Dempaino_ ought to obey\nhis Commands, but for him, he knew no Man greater than himself,\ntherefore should receive Laws from none; and with this Answer dismiss'd\nthe Ambassador; who, at his Return, reported to his Master the very\nWords, adding, they were delivered in a haughty Strain. _Dempaino_, who\nwas not used to have his Commands disputed, order'd one of his Generals\nto march with 6000 Men, and demand the White Man, and in Case of\nRefusal, to denounce War, that he should send him back an Express of it,\nand he would follow in Person with an Army to enforce a Compliance.\nThese Orders were put in Execution with the greatest Dispatch and\nSecrecy; so that the Town was invested, before any Advice was given of\nthe Approach of an Enemy. The General told the King, it was in his\nChoice to have Peace or War with his Master, since it depended on the\nDelivery of the White Man.\nThe King thus surpriz'd, was obliged, however contrary to his\nInclinations, to give _Williams_ up to the General, who return'd with\nhim to _Dempaino_, without committing any Hostilities; tho' he threatned\nto besiege the Town, and put all but the Women and Children to the\nSword, if the King of _Maratan_ did not pay the Expence of his Master's\nsending for the White Man, which he rated at 100 Slaves, and 500 Head of\nCattle, the King objected to this as a hard Condition and an unjust\nImposition, but was obliged to acquiesce in it.\nOne Thing, remarkable enough, had like to have slipp'd me; which is, the\nKing of _Maratan_ sent _Williams_ to the General without any Attendance,\nwhich made him ask, if the White Man was a Slave? The King answered, he\nhad not used him like one. I may very well, said the General, be of a\ncontrary Opinion, since you have sent no Body to wait upon him: Upon\nwhich Reprimand, the King sent _Williams_ a Present of a Slave.\nHe was received by _Dempaino_ with a great many Caresses, was handsomely\ncloathed according to the Country Manner, had Slaves allotted to wait on\nhim, and every Thing that was necessary and convenient; so that King\n_Dempaino_ was at the Trouble of sending 6000 Men, one would think, for\nno other End than to shew the great Value and Esteem he had for the\n_Europeans_. He continued with this Prince till the Arrival of a Ship,\nwhich was some Years after his leaving _Maratan_; when the _Bedford_\nGalley, a Pyrate, commanded by _Achen Jones_, a _Welshman_, came on the\nCoast, on board of which Ship _Williams_ was permitted to enter; they\nwent to _Augustine_, where, laying the Ship on Shore, by Carelessness\nthey broke her Back, and lost her. The Crew lived here till the Arrival\nof the _Pelican_, another Pyrate, mentioned in _North_'s Life; some of\nthem went on board this Ship, and steer'd for the _East-Indies_.\n_Williams_ shifted out of this on board the _Mocha_ Frigate, a Pyrate,\ncommanded by Captain _Culliford_, and made a Voyage; then, returning to\nSt. _Mary_'s, they shared the Booty they had got in the Red Seas. I\nshall not here mention the Particulars of this last Expedition,\ndesigning to write Captain _Culliford_'s Life, which it more properly\nbelongs to.\nSome of the Crew, being _West Indians_, having an Opportunity, returned\nhome; but _Williams_ remain'd here till the Arrival and taking of Capt.\n_Forgette_, which has been already mentioned: He was one of those who\ntook the _Speaker_, (the Manner has been told before, in another Life)\nwent a Voyage in her, and returned to _Maratan_, as is said in _North_'s\nLife. Here the King seeing him, ask'd what Present he intended to make\nhim for former Kindness? _Williams_ answered, he had been over paid by\nthe Prince whom he took him from and by his Services, which Answer so\nirritated his _Maratanian_ Majesty, that he ordered him to quit his\nCountry; and he could hardly after that see him with Patience.\nFrom hence he went on board the _Prosperous_, Captain _Howard_,\nCommander, who went to St. _Mary_'s, and thence to the Main, as is said\nin that Pyrate's Life, and was one of the Men left behind when they had\na Design to carry off _Ort Van Tyle_. This _Dutchman_ kept him to hard\nLabour, as planting Potatoes, _&c._ in revenge for the Destruction and\nHavock made in his Plantations by the Crew of the _Prosperous_; he was\nhere in the Condition of a Slave six Months, at the Expiration of which\nTime, he had an Opportunity (and embraced it) to run away, leaving his\nConsort, _Tho. Collins_, behind him, who had his Arm broke when he was\ntaken by the _Dutchman_.\nHaving made his Escape from a rigid, revengeful Master, he got to a\nBlack Prince, named _Rebaiharang_, with whom he lived half a Year; he\nfrom hence went and kept Company with one _John Pro_, another\n_Dutchman_, who had a small Settlement on Shore, till the Arrival of the\nMen of War, commanded by Commodore _Richards_, who took both _Pro_ and\nhis Guest _Williams_, put them in Irons (on board the _Severn_) till\nthey came to _Johanna_, where the Captain of the _Severn_ undertook for\n2000 Dollars to go against the _Mohilians_, in which Expedition several\nof the Man of War's Crew were killed, and the two Pyrates made their\nEscape in a small Canoe to _Mohila_, where they shelter'd themselves a\nwhile in the Woods, out of which they got Provisions, and made over for\n_Johanna_; here they recruited themselves and went away for _Mayotta_,\nan Island 18 Leagues in Length. The King of this Island built them a\nBoat, and giving them Provisions and what Necessaries they required,\nthey made for and arrived at _Madagascar_; where, at _Methelage_, in the\nLat. of 16, 40, or thereabouts, they join'd, as has been said, Captain\n_White_.\nHere they lay about 3 Months, then setting Fire to their Boat, they went\ninto _White_'s, and rounding the North End came to _Ambonavoula_; here\n_Williams_ staid till Captain _White_ brought the Ship _Hopewell_, on\nboard of which he entered before the Mast, made a Voyage to the Red\nSeas, towards the End of which he was chosen Quarter-Master. At their\nReturn they touch'd at _Mascarenas_ for Provisions, where almost half\nthe Company went ashore and took up their Habitations.\nFrom _Mascarenas_ they steer'd for _Hopewell_ (by some call'd\n_Hopefull_) Point, on _Madagascar_, where dividing their Plunder, they\nsettled themselves.\nTwelve Months after, the _Charles_ Brigantine, Captain _Halsey_, came\nin, as is mentioned in his Life. _Williams_ went on board him and made a\nVoyage; at their Return they came to _Maratan_, lived ashore, and\nassisted the King in his War against his Brother, which being ended in\nthe Destruction of the latter, and a Pyrate lying at _Ambonavoula_,\nsending his Long-Boat to _Manangcaro_, within ten Leagues of _Maratan_,\n_Williams_ and the rest went on board, and in three Months after he had\nbeen at _Ambonavoula_ he was chosen Captain of the _Scotch_ Ship,\nmentioned in _Halsey_'s Life.\nThis Ship he work'd upon with great Earnestness, and made the _Scots_\nPrisoners labour hard at the fitting her up for a Voyage; and she was\nnear ready for the Seas when a Hurricane forced her ashore, and she was\nwreck'd.\nSome Time after this he set up and finished a Sloop, in which he and ten\nof his Men, design'd for _Mascarenas_, but missing the Island they went\nround _Madagascar_, to a Place called _Methelage_, where he laid his\nVessel ashore and staid a Year; but the King being tired with his morose\nTemper, and he disagreeing with every Body, he was order'd to be gone,\nand accordingly fitting up his Vessel he put to Sea, intending to go\nround the North End of the Island; but the Wind being at E. S. E. and\nthe Current setting to N. W. he put back to a Port, called the _Boyne_,\nwithin 10 Leagues of _Methelage_, in the same King's Dominions whom he\nhad left. The Governor of this Place was descended from the _Arabs_, and\nit was here that the _Arabians_ traded.\nWhen he came to an Anchor, he and three of his Men (he had but 5 with\nhim) went on Shore, paddled by two Negroes. _David Eaton_ and _William\nDawson_, two of the Men, required a Guide, to shew them the Way to the\nKing's Town; the Governor order'd them one, and, at the same time, laid\nan Ambush for them in the Road, and caused them to be murdered. When\nthey had left the _Boyn_, _Williams_ and _Meyeurs_, a _Frenchman_, who\nalso came ashore in the Canoe, went to buy some _Samsams_, which are\nagate Beads; as they were looking over these Goods, a Number of the\nGovernor's Men came about them, seiz'd them both, and immediately\ndispatch'd _Meyeurs_, _Williams_ they bound, and tortur'd almost a whole\nDay, by throwing hot Ashes on his Head and in his Face, and putting\nlittle Boys to beat him with Sticks; he offer'd the Governor 2000\nDollars for his Life, but he answer'd, he'd have both that and the Money\ntoo; and accordingly when he was near expiring, they made an End of him\nwith their Lances.\nAfter this barbarous Murder, the Governor thought of seizing the Sloop,\non board of which were no more than two White Men, six Negroe Boys, and\nsome Women Slaves of the same Colour; however, he thought it best to\nproceed by Stratagem, and therefore putting a Goat and some Calabashes\nof Toke on board _William_'s Canoe, with twelve Negroes arm'd, and the\nSloop Negroes to paddle, he sent to surprize her. When the Canoe came\npretty near the Vessel, they hal'd, and ask'd if they would let them\ncome aboard? One of the Men ask'd _William_'s Negroes where the Captain\nwas? He answered, drinking Toke with the Governor, and sent them\nProvision and Toke. A Negroe Wench advised the White Man, whose Name was\n_William Noakes_, not to let them come on board, for as four White Men\nwent ashore, and none of them appear'd, she suspected some Treachery;\nhowever, on the Answer made him from the Canoe, he resolved to admit\nthem, and giving the Wench a Kick, cryed, _D--m ye, must we have no\nfresh Provisions for your Whimsies_; he called them on board, and no\nsooner were they on Deck but one of them snatching _Noakes_ his Pistol,\nshot him thro' the Head, and seizing the other White Man, threw him\nover-board and drown'd him; after which, being Masters of the Vessel,\nthey carried her in and rifled her.\nThe King was at this Time a hunting, as is his Custom to hunt Boars\nthree Months in the Year; but the Account of these Murders soon reach'd\nhim, however, he staid the accustom'd Time of his Diversion; but when he\nreturned home, and the Whites, who were about him, demanded Justice, he\nbid them be quiet, they might depend upon his doing it: He sent to the\nGovernor of _Boyn_, and told him, he was glad that he had cut off\n_Williams_ and his Crew, an Example he was resolved to follow and clear\nthe Country of them all. That he had some Affairs to communicate to him,\nand desired he would come to Court as soon as possible, but take Care he\nwas not seen by any of the Whites, for fear by his, they shou'd revenge\nthe Death of their Companions.\nThe Governor on these Orders came away immediately, and stopp'd two\nMiles short, at a little Town two Miles distant from the King's, and\nsent Word he there waited for his Commands.\nThe King ordered him to be with him early next Morning, before the White\nMen were out of their Beds; he set forward accordingly the next Day\nbetimes, but was seiz'd on the Road by Negroes placed for that Purpose,\nand brought bound to the King, who, after having reproach'd him with the\nBarbarity of his Action, sent him to the White Men, bidding them put him\nto what Death they pleased; but they sent Word back, he might dispose of\nhis Subjects Lives as he thought fit, but for their Part they would\nnever draw a Drop of Blood of any who belonged to him. Upon which Answer\nthe King's Uncle ordered him to be speared, and he was accordingly\nthrust thro' the Body with Lances. The King, after this Execution, sent\nto _Boyn_, and had every Thing brought which had belonged to _Williams_\nand his Men, and divided it among the Whites, saying, _He was sorry the\nVillain had but one Life to make Attonement for the Barbarity he had\nbeen guilty of_.\nCapt. _Samuel Burgess_ was born in _New-York_, and had a good Education;\nhe was what they call a well-set Man, and bandy legg'd; he sail'd some\nTime as a Privateer in the _West-Indies_, and very often, the Gang, he\nwas with, when the Time of their cruizing was expir'd, would make no\nCeremony of prolonging the Commission by their own Authority.\nBy his Privateering he got together some little Money, and returned\nhome, where the Government having no Notice, or, at least, taking none,\nof his pyratical Practice, in staying beyond the Date of his Commission:\nHe went out Mate of a Ship, in the Service of _Frederick Phillips_,\nbound to the Island of _Madagascar_, to trade with the Pyrates, where\nthey had the Misfortune to lose their Ship, and lived eighteen Months at\n_Augustine_, when an _English_ Pyrate coming in, the King of the Country\nobliged him to go on board her, tho' much against his Inclination, for\nhe was tired of a roving Life; but their Choice was to go or starve, for\nthe King would keep them no longer.\nHe went with this free Booter to the _East Indies_, where they made\nseveral rich Prizes; returned to St. _Mary_'s, where they took in\nProvisions, Wood, and Water. Several of their Gang knock'd off here; but\nthe Captain, _Burgess_, and the Remainder, went away for the _West\nIndies_, disposed of their Plunder on the _Spanish_ Coast, and then\nreturning to _New York_, purposely knocked the Ship on the Head at\n_Sandy Hook_, after they had secur'd their Money ashore.\nThe Government not being inform'd of their Pyracy, they lived here\nwithout Molestation, and, in a short Time, _Burgess_ married a Relation\nof Mr. _Phillips_', who built a Ship, called the _Pembroke_, and sent\nhim a second Time to _Madagascar_. In his Way to this Island, he went\ninto the River of _Dilagou_ on the _African_ Coast, where he took in a\nQuantity of Elephants Teeth; and thence to _Augustine_, where he met\nwith several of his old Ship Mates, with whom he traded for Money and\nSlaves. Leaving this Place he went to _Methelage_, where he also took\nsome Money and Negroes; and from thence he shaped his Course for St.\n_Mary_'s, on the East Side, where he also drove a considerable Trade\nwith his old Comrades, took several of them Passengers, who paid very\ngenerously for their Passage; and taking with him an Account of what was\nproper to bring in another Trip, he return'd to _New York_, without any\nsinister Accident: This Voyage clear'd 5,000 l. Ship and Charges paid.\nHis Owner encouraged by this Success, bid him chuse what Cargoe he\npleas'd, and set out again; accordingly he laded with Wine, Beer, _&c._\nand returning to _Madagascar_ arrived at _Maratan_ on the East Side,\nwhere he disposed of a great Part of his Cargoe at his own Rates. At\n_Methelage_ he disposed of the rest, and return'd, clearing for himself\nand Owner 10,000 l. besides 300 Slaves he brought to _New York_.\nAfter a short Stay at home, he set out again on the old Voyage, fell in\nfirst with _Methelage_, where he victualled and traded; from thence he\nwent round the South End, touch'd and sold Part of his Cargoe at a large\nProfit, to his old Acquaintance. He made a trading Voyage round the\nIsland, and at St. _Mary_'s met another Ship belonging to his Owner,\nwhich had Order to follow his Directions; he stay'd at this Port till he\nhad disposed of the Cargoe of both Ships; he then shaped his Course\nhomewards, with about 20 Pyrates Passengers, who had accepted the Pardon\nbrought by Commadore _Littleton_.\nIn his Way he touch'd at the _Cape_ of _Good Hope_, for Wood, Water, and\nfresh Provision: While he was here, the _Loyal Cook_, an _East India_\nMan came in, who made Prize of _Burgess_, and carried him to the _East\nIndies_; he there would have delivered _Burgess_'s Ship to the Governor\nof _Maderass_, but the Governor would have no Hand in the Affair, and\ntold the Captain, he must answer to the _East-India_ Company and\n_Burgess_'s Owner for what he had done.\nMost of the Pyrate's Passengers thought themselves clear'd by the Act of\nGrace; but some of them, not willing to trust to it, got off with what\nGold they could, in a _Dutch_ Boat; they who trusted to the Pardon were\nclapp'd in Goal, and died in their Irons. I cannot omit the Simplicity\nof one of them, who had, however, the Wit to get off: When he designed\nto go away, he look'd for his Comrade for the Key of his Chest, to take\nhis Gold with him, which amounted to Seventeen hundred Pounds; but this\nComrade being ashore, he would not break open Chest, for it was Pity, he\nsaid, to spoil a good new Lock, so left his Money for the Captain of the\n_East-India_ Man.\nThe News of this Capture came to the Owner before the Ship return'd, and\nhe sued the Company; but, at their Request, staid for the Arrival of the\n_Loyal Cook_, which brought _Burgess_ Prisoner to _England_ soon after.\nThe Captain finding himself in an Error, and that what he had done could\nnot be justified, absconded; the Company made good the Ship and Cargo to\nthe Owner. _Burgess_ was set at Liberty, continued some Time in\n_London_, was impeach'd, and Pyracy sworn against him by _Culliford_\n(mentioned in _Williams_'s Life) who notwithstanding, he came home on\nthe Act of Grace, was clapp'd into _Newgate_, tried and acquitted, tho'\nhe was beggar'd.\n_Burgess_'s Owner stickled very hard for him, and expended great Sums of\nMoney to save him; however, tho' he pleaded the Necessity of his going\non board the Pyrate, (as his Life shews it) he was tried and condemn'd;\nbut by the Intercession of the Bishops of _London_ and _Canterbury_, was\npardon'd by the Queen.\nAfter this, he made a broken Voyage to the _South Sea_, Lieutenant to a\nPrivateer, and returning to _London_, was out of Business a whole Year.\nHe then shipp'd himself Mate on board the _Hannah_, afterwards called\nthe _Neptune_, and went to _Scotland_ to take in her Cargo, the Owner\nbeing of that Nation; but before she got thither he the Owner broke, and\nthe Ship was stopp'd, and lay 18 Months before she was dispos'd of: But\nbeing set to Sale, and six _Scotch_ Gentlemen buying her, the old\nOfficers were continued, and she proceeded on her first designed Voyage\nto _Madagascar_, in which the Captain and _Burgess_ quarrelling, was the\nLoss of the Ship; for the latter, who was acquainted with the Pyrates,\nwhen they arrived at _Madagascar_, spirited them up to surprize her: The\nManner how, being already set down in _Halsey_'s Life, I need not\nrepeat.\nI shall only take Notice, that Captain _Miller_ being decoy'd ashore,\nunder Pretence of being shew'd some Trees, fit for Masting, _Halsey_\ninvited him to a Surloin of Beef, and a Bowl of Arrack Punch; he\naccepted the Invitation, with about 20 of the Pyrates. One _Emmy_, who\nhad been a Waterman on the _Thames_, did not come to Table, but sat by,\nmuffled up in a great Coat, pretending he was attack'd by the Ague, tho'\nhe had put it on to conceal his Pistols only. After Dinner, when\n_Halsey_ went out, as for something to entertain his Guests, (_Miller_\nand his Supercargo,) _Emmy_ clapp'd a Pistol to the Captain's Breast,\nand told him, he was his Prisoner; at the same Instant, two other\nPyrates enter'd the Room, with each a Blunderbuss in his Hand, and told\nthe Captain and his Supercargoe, that no Harm should come to either, if\nthey did not bring it upon themselves by an useless Resistance. While\nthis past within Doors, the Wood being lined with Pyrates, all\n_Miller_'s Men, whom he had brought ashore to fell Timber, were secur'd,\nbut none hurt, and all civilly treated. When they had afterwards got\nPossession of the Ship, in the Manner mention'd before, they set all\ntheir Prisoners at Liberty.\n_Miller_, with eleven of his Men, was sent off, as is said in _Halsey_'s\nLife: The Company chose _Burgess_ Quarter-Master, and shar'd the Booty\nthey had made out of the _Scotch_ Ship, and the _Greyhound_.\nSoon after happen'd _Halsey_'s Death, who left _Burgess_ Executor in\nTrust for his Widow and Children, with a considerable Legacy for\nhimself, and the other Pyrates grumbling at a new Comer's being\npreferr'd to all of them, took from _Burgess_ 3,000 l. of _Halsey_'s\nMoney, and 1200 l. of his own, which was his Share of the two Prizes.\nTho' he had been treated in this Manner, they were idle enough to give\nhim the Command of the _Scots_ Ship, and order'd him to fit her out with\nall Expedition, and to take on board some Men and Goods left in the\nBrigantine: He set to work on the Ship, with full Design to run away\nwith her; but some Pyrates, who were in another Part of the Island,\nbeing informed of these Proceedings, thought it not prudent to trust\nhim, so he left the Ship, and getting among his old Comrades, by their\nInterposition, had all his Money return'd.\nAfter this he lived five Months on the Island of St. _Mary_'s, where his\nHouse was, by Accident, burnt down, out of which he saved nothing but\nhis Money; he then went on board _David Williams_, when he miss'd the\nIsland of _Mascarenas_, and returned to _Methelage_, where he staid with\nthe King, and was one of the Men among whom he divided _William_'s\nEffects.\nFrom _Methelage_ he went with a Parcel of Samsams to _Augustine_, with\nwhich he bought fifty Slaves, whom he sold to the _Arabians_. In his\nReturn to _Methelage_, he met Captain _North_ in a Sloop, with thirty of\n_Miller_'s Men on board; these Men propos'd the taking _Burgess_, who\nhad, they said, betrayed, ruined, and banished them their Country, by\nforcing them to turn Pyrates; but _North_ would not consent: Upon which,\nthey confined him, took _North_ and stripp'd him of all the Money, and\nthen releasing their Captain, gave him 300 l. as his Share, which he\nreturned to _Burgess_ on his Arrival at _Methelage_.\n_Burgess_ lived here two or three Years, till he was carried off by some\n_Dutchmen_; they belonged to an _East-India_ Man, and were taken by two\n_French_ Ships, which being bound for _Mocha_, and scarce of Provisions,\ncame into _Methelage_ to victual, where they set 80 of their Prisoners\nashore. When they parted from this Port they sail'd for _Johanna_, where\nthey left the _Dutch_ Officers, who built a Ship, and came back for\ntheir Men. _Burgess_ being of great Use to them, they took him on board,\nand steer'd for a Port, where some _Dutch_, taken in another Ship, were\nmaroon'd; but they were wreck'd at _Youngoul_, where _Burgess_ continued\neighteen Months. After this Time was expir'd, he was desirous of leaving\nthe Place, and addressing himself to the King, who was Uncle to the King\nof _Methelage_, he requested his black Majesty to send him back to that\nPort, which he readily complied with, where _Burgess_ continued almost\nfive Years, afflicted with Sickness, in which he lost one Eye. While he\nwas here, the _Drake_ Pink, of _London_, came in for Slaves, he took\n_Burgess_, with Design to carry him home; but Captain _Harvey_ in the\n_Henry_, which belong'd to the same Owners, arriving, and being a\nStranger to the Trade, at the Request of Captain _Maggot_, Commander of\nthe _Drake_, and on Promise of a Ship when in the _West Indies_, he\nenter'd as third Mate, and continued with him. Captain _Harvey_ carrying\nit pretty high, and disagreeing with the King, lay here 9 Months before\nhe could slave. _Burgess_ was sent up to tell the King he had not\nfulfill'd his Agreement with Captain _Harvey_; the King resented the\nbeing reproach'd by a Man whom he had entertained so many Years, and\nreviled him; he was, however, carried to Dinner with some of the\nprincipal Blacks, and drank very plentifully with them of Honey Toke, in\nwhich it is supposed he was poison'd, for he fell ill and died soon\nafter, leaving what he had to the Care of the chief Mate, for the Use of\nhis Wife and Children.\nWe have already touched upon the History of some of the Pyrates, which\nwe shall have Occasion to name here over again; but since the printing\nour first Volume, the following Relations are fallen into our Hands,\nwhich being much more curious and particular than any Thing hitherto\nmade publick upon these Affairs, we are satisfied our Readers will find\ntheir Entertainment in the Perusal of it.\nAbout the 20th of _July_ 1718, Mr. _Woods Rogers_, Governor and\nVice-Admiral of the _Bahama_ Islands, being sent from _England_ with the\nKing's Proclamation, and Pardon for all Pyrates who had surrendered by a\nTime specified in the said Proclamation, arrived at _Providence_. It was\nEvening when the Fleet came off the Town of _Nassau_ in the said Island,\nwhen _Richard Turnley_, the Pilot, who was on board the _Delicia_, did\nnot judge it safe to venture over the Bar that Night, wherefore it was\nresolved to lie bye till Morning.\nIn the mean Time there came some Men on board the Fleet from off a\nlittle Island, called _Harbour Island_, adjacent to _Providence_. The\nAdvice they brought was, that there were near a thousand Pyrates on\nShore upon the Island of _Providence_, waiting for the King's Pardon,\nwhich had been long expected. The principal of their Commanders were\n_Benj. Horneygold_, _Arthur Davis_, _Jos. Burgess_, _Tho. Carter_, and\nthey were all in or about the Town of _Nassau_; that the Fort was\nextremely out of Repair, there being only one Gun mounted, a nine\nPounder, and no Accommodation for Men, but one little Hut or House,\nwhich was inhabited by an old Fellow, whom the Pyrates, in Derision,\ncalled Governor _Sawney_.\nThe Fleet was seen from the Harbour, as well as the Town, so that\nCaptain _Charles Vane_, who had no Design of surrendring; but, on the\ncontrary, had fitted out his Ship with a Resolution of attempting new\nAdventures, took the Advantage of the Night to contrive his Escape; and\nthough the Harbour was blocked up, and his Ship drew too much Water to\nget out by t'other East Passage, he shifted his Hands, and Things of\nmost Value, into a lighter Vessel, and charging all the Guns of the Ship\nhe quitted with Double-Round and Partridge, he set it on Fire,\nimagining, that some of the Ships, or their Boats, might be sent near\nhim, and he might do some Mischief when it should burn down to them.\nThose in the Fleet saw the Light, and heard the Guns, and fancied the\nPyrates on Shore were making Bonfires, and firing Guns for Joy that the\nKing's free Pardon was arrived; and Captain _Whitney_, Commander of the\n_Rose_ Man of War, sent his Boat with his Lieutenant on Shore, which was\nintercepted by _Vane_, who carried the Crew on Board, and stripped them\nof some Stores they had in the Boat, he kept them till he got under\nSail, which was till Day-break, when there was Light enough for him to\nsee how to steer his Way through the East Passage; which was no sooner\ndone but he hoisted a black Flag, and fired a Gun, and then let the\nLieutenant and Boat's Crew depart and join the Fleet.\nThe Fleet got safe into the Harbour, and as soon as the Lieutenant\narrived on Board, and related what had passed, the _Buck_ Sloop was\nordered to chace _Vane_; she made what Sail she could through the East\nPassage after him, having a Recruit of Men well armed sent to her from\nthe other Ships; but being heavily laden with rich Goods, _Vane_ had the\nHeels of her, which the Commadore observing, made a Signal for her to\nleave off the Chace, and return, which she did accordingly.\nThey immediately fell to mooring and securing their Ships, which took up\nthe Time till Night: Next Morning the Governor went on Shore, being\nreceived at his Landing by the principal People in the Government of the\nPlace, as _Thomas Walker_, Esq; Chief Justice, and _Thomas Taylor_, Esq;\nPresident of the Council; the Pyrate Captains, _Hornygold_, _Davis_,\n_Carter_, _Burghess_, _Currant_, _Clark_, with some others, drew up\ntheir Crews in two Lines, reaching from the Water-Side to the Fort, the\nGovernor and other Officers marching between them; in the mean Time,\nthey being under Arms, made a running Fire over his Head.\nBeing arrived at the Fort, his Commission was opened and read, and he\nwas sworn in Governor of the Island, according to Form.\nThe next Day the Governor made out a Commission to _Richard Turnley_,\nthe chief Pilot, to Mr. _Salter_, a Factor, and some others, to go on\nBoard and examine all suspected Ships and Vessels in the Harbour, to\ntake an Inventory of their several Ladings, and to secure both Ship and\nCargo for the Use of the King and Company, till such Time as a Court of\nAdmiralty could be called, that they might be lawfully cleared or\ncondemned by proving which belonged to Pyrates, and which to fair\nTraders.\nThe Day following a Court-Martial was held, in which a military\nDiscipline was settled, in order to prevent Surprizes, both from\n_Spaniards_ and Pyrates, till such Time as the Fort could be repaired,\nand put into a Condition of Defence; for this Purpose the Governor was\nobliged to make Use of some of the pardoned Pyrates, such as\n_Hornygold_, _Davis_ and _Burghess_, to whom he gave some Commands; and\n_George Fetherston_, _James Bonney_, and _Dennis Macartey_, with some\nother Pyrates of a lower Rank, acted under them as inferior Officers.\nSoon after the civil Government was also setled, some of the principal\nOfficers being appointed Justices of the Peace, others of inferior\nDegree, Constables and Overseers of the Ways and Roads, which were\novergrown with Bushes and Underwood, all about the Town of _Nassau_; so\nthat if any Enemy had landed in the Night, they might lie in Ambuscade\nin those Covers, and surprize the Town; wherefore several of the common\nPyrates were employed in clearing away the said Bushes and Underwood.\nThe Governor, with some Soldiers, guarded the Fort, and the Inhabitants,\nwho were form'd into Train'd-Bands, took Care of the Town; but as there\nwas no Sort of Accommodation to lodge such a Number of People, they were\nforced to unbend the Sails, and bring them on Shore, in order to make\nTents, till they had Time to build Houses, which was done with all\npossible Expedition, by a Kind of Architecture altogether new.\nThose that were built in the Fort were done by making six little Holes\nin the Rock, at convenient Distances, in each of which was stuck a\nforked Pole; on these, from one to t'other, were placed cross Poles or\nRafters, which being lathed at Top, and on the Sides, with small Sticks,\nwere afterwards covered with _Palmata_ Leaves, and then the House was\nfinished; for they did not much trouble themselves about the Ornaments\nof Doors and Windows.\nIn the mean Time the repairing the Fort was carried on, and the Streets\nwere ordered to be kept clean, both for Health and Conveniency, so that\nit began to have the Appearance of a civilized Place.\nA Proclamation was published for the Encouragement of all such Persons\nshould be willing to settle upon the Island of _Providence_, by which\nevery Person was to have a Lot of Ground of a hundred and twenty Foot\nsquare, any where in or about the Town of _Nassau_, that was not before\nin the Possession of others, provided they should clear the said Ground,\nand build a House tenantable, by a certain Time therein limited, which\nmight be easily done as they might have Timber for nothing. This had the\nEffect proposed, and a great many immediately fell to work to comply\nwith the Conditions, in order to settle themselves there.\nMany of the Pyrates were employed in the Woods in cutting down Sticks to\nmake Pallisadoes; and all the People belonging to the Ships (Officers\nexcepted) were obliged to work four Days in the Week upon the\nFortifications, so that in a short Time a strong Entrenchment was cast\nround the Fort, and being well pallisadoed, it rendered the Fort\ntolerably strong.\nBut it did not much suit the Inclinations of the Pyrates to be set to\nwork; and though they had Provision sufficient, and had also a good\nAllowance of Wine and Brandy to each Man, yet they began to have such a\nhankering after their old Trade, that many of them took Opportunities of\nseizing Perriaguas, and other Boats, in the Night, and making their\nEscapes, so that in a few Months there was not many of them left.\nHowever, when the _Spanish_ War was proclaim'd, several of them return'd\nback again of their own Accords, being tempted with the Hopes of being\nemployed upon the privateering Account, (which is something like\npyrating;) for that Place lying near the Coast of _Spanish America_, and\nalso not far from the Gulph of _Florida_, seemed to be a good Station\nfor intercepting the _Spanish_ Vessels going to old _Spain_.\nThey were not mistaken in this Supposition, for the Governor, according\nto the Power vested in him, did grant Commissions for privateering, and\nmade Choice of some of the principal Pyrates who had continued upon the\nIsland, in Obedience to the Pardon, for Commanders, as being Persons\nwell qualified for such Employments, who made up their Crews chiefly of\ntheir scattered Companions, who were newly returned upon the Hopes of\nPreferment.\nAbout this Time a Fishing Vessel belonging to the Island of _Providence_\nbrought in the Master of a Ship and a few Sailors, whom she had picked\nup at Sea in a Canoe; the said Master was called Captain _King_, who\nsailed in a Ship called the _Neptune_, belonging to _South-Carolina_,\nloaden with Rice, Pitch, Tar, and other Merchandizes, bound for\n_London_.\nThe Account he gave of himself was, that he was met with by _Charles\nVane_ the Pyrate, who carried him into _Green Turtle_ Bay, one of the\n_Bahama_ Islands, by whom he was plundered of a great Part of his\nCargoe, which consisting chiefly of Stores, was of great Use to them;\nthat afterwards they cut away Part of one of the Masts of the Ship, and\nfired a Gun down her Hold, with Design of sinking her; that they took\nsome of his Men into their Service, and when they were sailing off gave\nhim and the rest a Canoe to save themselves; that with this Canoe they\nmade shift to sail from one little Island to another, till they had the\ngood Luck to meet the Fishing Boat which took them up; and that he\nbelieved _Charles Vane_ might still be cruising thereabouts.\nUpon this Intelligence the Governor fitted out a Ship which was named\nthe _Willing Mind_, mann'd with fifty stout Hands, well armed, and also\na Sloop with thirty Hands, which he sent to cruise amongst those\nIslands, in search of _Vane_ the Pyrate, giving them Orders also to\nendeavour to recover the Ship _Neptune_, which Captain _King_ told them\nhad still Goods of a considerable Value left in her.\nThey went out accordingly, but never saw _Vane_; however, they found the\n_Neptune_, which was not sunk as the Pyrates intended; for the Ball they\nfired into her stuck in the Ballast, without passing through, by Reason\nthe Gun had not been sufficiently charged, and so they returned with her\nabout the 10th of _November_; but an unlucky Accident happened to the\nShip _Willing Mind_, occasioned either by the ignorance or Carelessness\nof the Pilot, which was bulged in going over the Bar.\nIn the mean Time _Vane_ made towards the Coast of _Hispaniola_, living\nriotously on Board, having store of Liquor, and plenty of fresh\nProvisions, such as Hogs, Goats, Sheep, Fowl, which he got upon easy\nTerms, for touching at a Place called _Isleatherer_, he plundered the\nInhabitants of as much of their Provision as they could carry away: Here\nthey cruised to about _February_, when, near the Windward Passage of\nCape _Mase_, they met with a large rich Ship of _London_, called the\n_Kingston_, loaden with Bale Goods, and other rich Merchandize, and\nhaving several Passengers on Board, some _English_, and some _Jews_,\nbesides two Women.\nTowards the North-End of _Jamaica_ they also met with a Turtle Sloop,\nbound in for that Island, on Board of which (after having first\nplundered her) they put the Captain of the _Kingston_, and some of his\nMen, and all the Passengers, except the two Women, whom they kept for\ntheir own Entertainment, contrary to the usual Practice of Pyrates, who\ngenerally sent them away, least they should occasion Contention.\nThe Ship _Kingston_ they kept for their own Use; for now their Company\nbeing strengthened by a great many Recruits, some Voluntiers, and some\nforced Men out of the _Neptune_ and _Kingston_, they thought they had\nHands enough for two Ships; accordingly they shifted several of their\nHands on Board the _Kingston_, and _John Rackham_, alias _Callico Jack_,\n(so called, because his Jackets and Drawers were always made of Callico)\nQuarter-Master to _Vane_, was unanimously chosen Captain of the\n_Kingston_.\nThe Empire of these Pyrates had not been long thus divided before they\nhad like to have fallen into a civil War amongst themselves, which must\nhave ended in the Destruction of one of them. The fatal Occasion of the\nDifference betwixt these two Brother Adventurers, was this;--It happened\nthat _Vane_'s Liquor was all out, who sending to his Brother Captain for\na Supply, _Rackham_ accordingly spared him what he thought fit; but it\nfalling short of _Vane_'s Expectation, as to Quantity, he went on Board\nof _Rackham_'s Ship to expostulate the Matter with him, so that Words\narising, _Rackham_ threaten'd to shoot him thro' the Head, if he did not\nimmediately return to his own Ship; and told him likewise, that if he\ndid not sheer off, and part Company, he would sink him.\n_Vane_ thought it best to take his Advice, for he thought the other was\nbold enough to be as good as his Word, for he had it in his Power to be\nso, his Ship being the largest and strongest of the two.\nAccordingly they parted, and _Rackham_ made for the Island of _Princes_,\nand having great Quantities of rich Goods on Board, taken in the late\nPrizes, they were divided into Lots, and he and his Crew shared them by\nthrowing Dice, the highest Cast being to choose first: When they had\ndone, they packed up their Goods in Casks, and buried them on Shore in\nthe Island of _Princes_, that they might have Room for fresh Booty. In\nthe mean Time it happened that a Turtle Sloop belonging to _Jamaica_\ncame in there, _Rackham_ sent his Boat, and brought the Master on Board\nof him, and asking him several Questions, the Master informed him, that\nWar with _Spain_ had been proclaimed in _Jamaica_; and that the Time\nappointed by the general Pardon for Pyrates to surrender, in order to\nreceive the Benefit thereof, was not expired.\nUpon this Intelligence _Rackham_ and his Crew suddenly changed their\nMinds, and were resolved to take the Benefit of the Pardon by a speedy\nSurrender; wherefore, instead of using the Master ill, as the poor Man\nexpected, they made him several Presents, desiring him to sail back to\n_Jamaica_, and acquaint the Governor they were willing to surrender,\nprovided he would give his Word and Honour they should have the Benefit\nof the Pardon; which, as extensive as it was, they apprehended they were\nnot intitled to, because they had run away in Defiance of it at\n_Providence_. They desired the Master also to return with the Governor's\nAnswer, assuring him he should be no Loser by the Voyage.\nThe Master very willingly undertook the Commission, and arriving at\n_Jamaica_, delivered his Message to the Governor, according to his\nInstructions; but it happened that the Master of the _Kingston_, with\nhis Passengers, being come to _Jamaica_, had acquainted the Governor\nwith the Pyracies of _Vane_ and _Rackam_, before the Turtler got\nthither, who was actually fitting out two Sloops, which were now just\nready, in pursuit of them, so that the Governor was very glad to\ndiscover, by the Turtler's Message, where _Rackam_ was to be found.\nThe two Sloops, well mann'd, accordingly sailed out, and found _Rackam_\nin the Station where the Turtler had described him, but altogether in\nDisorder, and quite unprepared, either for Sailing or for Fight, most of\nhis Sails being on Shore erected into Tents, and his Decks lumber'd with\nGoods; he happen'd to be on Board himself, tho' most of his Men were\nashore, and seeing the two Sloops at a Distance, bearing towards him, he\nobserved them with his Glass, and fancied he saw on Board something like\nPreparations for fighting. This was what he did not expect, for he\nlook'd for no Enemy, and while he was in Doubt and Suspence about them,\nthey came so near that they began to fire.\nHe had neither Time nor Means to prepare for Defence, so that there was\nnothing to be done but to run into his Boat, and escape to the Shore,\nwhich he did accordingly with the few Hands he had with him, leaving the\ntwo Women on Board to be taken by the Enemy.\nThe Sloops seized the Ship _Kingston_, mann'd her, and brought her into\n_Jamaica_, having still a great part of her Cargoe left; when she\narrived, the Master of her fell to examining what part of the Cargoe was\nlost, and what left; he searched also for his Bills of Lading and\nCockets, but they were all destroyed by _Rackam_; so that the Ship being\nfreighted by several Owners, the Master could not tell whose Property\nwas saved, and whose lost, till he had fresh Bills of Parcels of each\nOwner from _England_. There was one remarkable Piece of good Luck which\nhappened in this Affair; there were, amongst other Goods, sixty Gold\nWatches on Board, and thirty of Silver; the Pyrates divided the Silver\nWatches, but the Gold being packed up amongst some Bale Goods, were\nnever discovered by them, and the Master, in searching, found them all\nsafe.\nIn the mean Time _Rackam_ and his Crew lived in the Woods, in very great\nSuspence what to do with themselves; they had with them Ammunition and\nsmall Arms, and also some of the Goods, such as Bales of Silk Stockings,\nand laced Hats, with which, it is supposed, they intended to make\nthemselves fine; they had also two Boats and a Canoe.\nBeing divided in their Resolutions, _Rackam_ with six more determined to\ntake one of the Boats, and make the best of their Way for the Island of\n_Providence_, and there claim the Benefit of the King's Pardon, which\nthey fancied they might be intitled to, by representing, that they were\ncarried away by _Vane_, against their Wills. Accordingly they put some\nArms, Ammunition and Provision, into the best Boat, and also some of the\nGoods, and so set Sail. They first made the Island of _Pines_, from\nthence got over to the North-Side of _Cuba_, where they destroyed\nseveral _Spanish_ Boats and Launces; one they took, which being a stout\nSea Boat, they shifted themselves and their Cargoe into her, and sunk\ntheir own, and then stretched over to the Island of _Providence_, where\nthey landed safely about the Middle of _May_ 1719, where demanding the\nKing's Pardon, the Governor thought fit to allow it them, and\nCertificates were granted to them accordingly.\nHere they sold their Goods, and spent the Money merrily; when all was\ngone, some ingaged themselves in Privateers, and others in trading\nVessels.\nBut _Rackam_, as Captain, having a much larger Share than any of the\nrest, his Money held out a little longer; but happening about this Time\nto come acquainted with _Anne Bonny_, that made him very extravagant.\n_Anne Bonny_, as has been taken Notice of in the first Volume, was\nmarried to _James Bonny_, one of the pardoned Pyrates, a likely young\nFellow, and of a sober Life, considering he had been a Pyrate; but\n_Anne_, who was very young, soon turned a Libertine upon his Hands, so\nthat he once surpriz'd her lying in a Hammock with another Man. _Rackam_\nmade his Addresses to her till his Money was all spent; but as he found\nthere was no carrying on an Amour with empty Pockets, he ingaged himself\nwith Captain _Burghess_, lately a Pyrate, but pardoned, who had received\na Commission to privateer upon the _Spaniards_. This Cruize proved\nsuccessful; they took several Prizes, amongst the rest, two of\nconsiderable Value, one loaded with Cocoa Nut, and another with Sugar.\nThey brought them into _Providence_, and found Purchasers amongst the\nFactors, who came from other Places for that Purpose. The Dividend was\nconsiderable, and as soon as possible disposed of: _Burghess_ sailed out\nin Quest of new Purchase; but _Rackam_, who had nothing but _Anne Bonny_\nin his Head, staid behind to spend his Money, and enjoy his Mistress.\n_Rackam_ lived in all Manner of Luxury, spending his Money liberally\nupon _Anne Bonny_, who was so taken with his Generosity, that she had\nthe Assurance to propose to her Husband to quit him, in order to cohabit\nwith _John Rackam_; and that _Rackam_ should give him a Sum of Money, in\nConsideration he should resign her to the said _Rackam_ by a Writing in\nForm, and she even spoke to some Persons to witness the said Writing.\nThe Story made some Noise, so that the Governor hearing of it, sent for\nher and one _Anne Fulworth_, who came with her from _Carolina_, and\npass'd for her Mother, and was privy to all her loose Behaviour, and\nexamining them both upon it, and finding they could not deny it, he\nthreaten'd if they proceeded further in it, to commit them both to\nPrison, and order them to be whipp'd, and that _Rackam_, himself, should\nbe their Executioner.\nThese Menaces made her promise to be very good, to live with her\nHusband, and to keep loose Company no more; but all this was\nDissimulation, for _Rackam_ and she consulting together, and finding\nthey could not by fair Means enjoy each other's Company with Freedom,\nresolved to run away together, and enjoy it in Spight of all the World.\nTo this Purpose they plotted together to seize a Sloop which then lay in\nthe Harbour, and _Rackam_ drew some brisk young Fellows into the\nConspiracy; they were of the Number of the Pyrates lately pardoned, and\nwho, he knew, were weary of working on Shore, and long'd to be again at\ntheir old Trade.\nThe Sloop they made choice of was betwixt thirty and forty Tun, and one\nof the swiftest Sailors that ever was built of that Kind; she belong'd\nto one _John Haman_, who lived upon a little Island not far from\n_Providence_, which was inhabited by no humane Creature except himself\nand his Family, (for he had a Wife and Children) his Livelihood and\nconstant Employment was to plunder and pillage the _Spaniards_, whose\nSloops and Launces he had often surprized about _Cuba_ and _Hispaniola_,\nand sometimes brought off a considerable Booty, always escaping by a\ngood Pair of Heels, insomuch that it become a Bye-Word to say, _There\ngoes_ John Haman, _catch him if you can_. His Business to _Providence_\nnow was to bring his Family there, in order to live and settle, being\nweary, perhaps, of living in that Solitude, or else apprehensive if any\nof the _Spaniards_ should discover his Habitation, they might land, and\nbe revenged of him for all his Pranks.\n_Anne Bonny_ was observed to go several times on Board this Sloop; she\npretended to have some Business with _John Haman_, therefore she always\nwent when he was on Shore, for her true Errand was to discover how many\nHands were aboard, and what kind of Watch they kept, and to know the\nPassages and Ways of the Vessel.\nShe discovered as much as was necessary; she found there were but two\nHands on Board; that _John Haman_ lay on Shore every Night: She inquired\nof them, Whether they watch'd? Where they lay? And ask'd many other\nQuestions; to all which they readily answered her, as thinking she had\nno Design but common Curiosity.\nShe acquainted _Rackam_ with every Particular, who resolved to lose no\nTime, and therefore, acquainting his Associates, who were eight in\nNumber, they appointed an Hour for meeting at Night, which was at twelve\no'Clock. They were all true to the Roguery, and _Anne Bonny_ was as\npunctual as the most resolute, and being all well armed, they took a\nBoat and rowed to the Sloop, which was very near the Shore.\nThe Night seemed to favour the Attempt, for it was both dark and rainy.\nAs soon as they got on Board, _Anne Bonny_, having a drawn Sword in one\nHand and a Pistol in the other, attended by one of the Men, went strait\nto the Cabin where the two Fellows lay who belonged to the Sloop; the\nNoise waked them, which she observing, swore, that if they pretended to\nresist, or make a Noise, she would blow out their Brains, (that was the\nTerm she used.)\nIn the mean Time _Rackam_ and the rest were busy heaving in the Cables,\none of which they soon got up, and, for Expedition sake, they slipped\nthe other, and so drove down the Harbour: They passed pretty near the\nFort, which hailed them, as did also the Guardship, asking them where\nthey were going; they answered, their Cable had parted, and that they\nhad nothing but a Grappling on Board, which would not hold them.\nImmediately after which they put out a small Sail, just to give them\nsteerage Way. When they came to the Harbour's Mouth, and thought they\ncould not be seen by any of the Ships, because of the Darkness of the\nNight, they hoisted all the Sail they had, and stood to Sea; then\ncalling up the two Men, they asked them if they would be of their Party;\nbut finding them not inclined, they gave them a Boat to row themselves\nashore, ordering them to give their Service to _Haman_, and to tell him,\nthey would send him his Sloop again when they had done with it.\n_Rackam_ and _Anne Bonny_, both bore a great Spleen to one _Richard\nTurnley_, whom _Anne_ had ask'd to be a Witness to the Writing, which\n_James Bonny_, her Husband, was to give to _Rackam_, by which she was to\nbe resigned to him; _Turnley_ refused his Hand upon that Occasion, and\nwas the Person who acquainted the Governor with the Story, for which\nthey vowed Revenge against him. He was gone from _Providence_ a turtling\nbefore they made their Escape, and they knowing what Island he was upon,\nmade to the Place. They saw the Sloop about a League from the Shore a\nfishing, and went aboard with six Hands; but _Turnley_, with his Boy, by\ngood Luck, happened to be ashore salting some wild Hogs they killed the\nDay before; they inquired for him, and hearing where he was, rowed\nashore in Search of him.\n_Turnley_ from the Land saw the Sloop boarded, and observed the Men\nafterwards making for the Shore, and being apprehensive of Pyrates,\nwhich are very common in those Parts, he, with his Boy, fled into a\nneighbouring Wood. The Surf was very great, so that they could not bring\nthe Boat to Shore; they waded up to the Arm-Pits, and _Turnley_, peeping\nthrough the Trees, saw them bring Arms on Shore: Upon the whole, not\nliking their Appearance, he, with his Boy, lay snug in the Bushes.\nWhen they had looked about and could not see him, they hollow'd, and\ncall'd him by his Name; but he not appearing, they thought it Time lost\nto look for him in such a Wilderness, and therefore they returned to\ntheir Boat, but rowed again back to the Sloop, and took away the Sails,\nand several other Things. They also carried away with them three of the\nHands, _viz._ _Richard Connor_ the Mate, _John Davis_, and _John Howel_,\nbut rejected _David Soward_ the fourth Hand, tho' he had been an old\nexperienced Pyrate, because he was lame, and disabled by a Wound he had\nformerly received.\nWhen they had done thus much, they cut down the Main-Mast, and towing\nthe Vessel into deep Water, sunk her, having first put _David Soward_\ninto a Boat to shift for himself; he made Shift to get ashore, and after\nsome Time, having found out _Turnley_, he told him, that _Rackam_ and\n_Mary Stead_ were determined, if they could have found him, to have\nwhipp'd him to Death, as he heard them vow with many bitter Oaths and\nImprecations; for whipping was the Punishment the Governor had\nthreatened her with by his Information.\nFrom thence they stretch'd over to the _Bury Islands_, plundering all\nthe Sloops they met, and strengthening their Company with several\nadditional Hands, and so went on till they were taken and executed at\n_Port Royal_, as has been told in the first Volume.\nAbout this Time, the Governor, in Conjunction with some Factors then\nresiding at _Providence_, thought fit to freight some Vessels for a\ntrading Voyage; accordingly the _Batchelor_'s _Adventure_, a Schooner,\nCaptain _Henry White_, Commander; the _Lancaster Sloop_, Captain\n_William Greenway_, Commander; the _May Sloop_, Captain _John Augur_,\nCommander, of which last _David Soward_ was Owner, (it having been given\nhim by some Pyrates his former Associates) in which he also sail'd this\nVoyage, were fitted out with a Cargo of Goods and Merchandizes, bound\nfor _Port Prince_ on the Island of _Cuba_.\nThe Governor thought it adviseable, for the Benefit of the Inhabitants\nof _Providence_, to settle a Correspondence with some Merchants at _Port\nPrince_, first, in order to procure fresh Provisions, there being scarce\nany upon the Island at the Governor's first Arrival; and there being at\n_Port Prince_ great Plenty of Cows and Hogs, he proposed to get a\nsufficient Number of each, to stock the Island for Breed, that the\nPeople for the future might have fresh Provision of their own.\nThey set Sail on _Sunday_ the fifth of _October_, 1718; the next Day\nthey arrived at an Island known by the Name of _Green Key_, lying South,\nSouth-East from _Providence_, in the Degree of 23 and 40 North Latitude,\nbeing distance about twenty five Leagues; they cast Anchor, in order to\nwait for Morning to carry them thro' some Rocks and Shoals which lay in\ntheir Way, and some went ashore to try to kill something for Supper,\nbefore it should be dark; they expected to meet some wild Hogs, for,\nsome Time before, one _Joseph Bay_ and one _Sims_, put two Sows and a\nBoar into the said Island; for they living at that Time at _Providence_,\nand being continually visited by Pyrates, were always plundered of all\ntheir fresh Provisions; wherefore, they thought of settling a Breed upon\n_Green Key_, that they might have Recourse to in Time of Necessity.\nThis Island is about nine Miles in Circumference, and about three Miles\nbroad in the widest Place; it is overgrown with wild Cabbage and Palmuta\nTrees, and great Variety of other Herbs and Fruits, so that there is\nPlenty of Food for the Nourishment of such Animals; but the Trees lying\nso close together, makes it but bad Hunting, so that they kill'd but one\nHog, which, however was of a monstrous Size.\nThe Hunters returned on Board their Ships again before Seven, having\nfirst divided the Hog, and sent part on Board each Vessel for Supper\nthat Night. After Supper, Captain _Greenway_ and Captain _White_ came on\nBoard of Captain _Augur_'s Sloop, in order to consult together, what\nTime to sail, and being all of Opinion, that if they weigh'd Anchor\nbetwixt the Hours of ten and eleven, it would be Day before they would\ncome up with the Shoals; they agreed upon that Hour for setting Sail,\nand so return'd to their own Vessels.\nSoon after, _Phineas Bunch_, and _Dennis Macarty_, with a great many\nothers, came from _White_'s Sloop on Board of _Augur_'s; their Pretence\nwas, that they came to see _Richard Turnley_ and Mr. _James Carr_, who\nhad formerly been a Midshipman in the _Rose_ Man of War under Captain\n_Whitney_, and being a great Favourite of Governor _Rogers_, he had\nappointed him Supercargo this Voyage. They desired to be treated with a\nBottle of Beer, for they knew Mr. _Car_ had some that was very good in\nhis Care, which had been put on Board, in order to make Presents of, and\nto treat the _Spanish_ Merchants with.\nAs it was not suspected they had any Thing else in View, Mr. _Carr_\nreadily went down, and brought up a Couple of Bottles of Beer: They sat\nupon the Poop with Captain _Augur_ in their Company, and were drinking\ntheir Beer; before the second Bottle was out, _Bunch_ and _Macarty_\nbegan to rattle, and talk with great Pleasure, and much boasting of\ntheir former Exploits when they had been Pyrates, crying up a Pyrate's\nLife to be the only Life for a Man of any Spirit. While they were\nrunning on in this Manner, _Bunch_ on a sudden started up, and swore\ndamn him, he would be Captain of that Vessel; _Augur_ answered him the\nVessel did not want a Captain, for he was able to command her himself,\nwhich seem'd to put an End to the Discourse for that Time.\nSoon after, _Bunch_ began to tell what bright Arms they had on Board\ntheir Sloop; upon which, one of _Augur_'s Men handed up some of their\nCutlashes which had been clean'd that Day; among them was Mr. _Carr_'s\nSilver-hilted Sword; _Bunch_ seem'd to admire the Sword, and ask'd whose\nit was; Mr. _Carr_ made Answer it belong'd to him; _Bunch_ replied it\nwas a very handsome one, and drawing it out, march'd about the Poop,\nflourishing it over his Head, and telling Mr. _Carr_ he would return it\nto him as soon as he had done with it: At the same Time he began to\nvapour again, and to brag of his former Pyracies, and coming near Mr.\n_Carr_, struck him with the Sword; _Turnley_ bid him take Care of what\nhe did, for that Mr. _Carr_ would not take such Usage.\nAs they were disputing upon this Matter, _Dennis Macarty_ stole off, and\nwith some of his Associates seiz'd upon the great Cabin where all the\nArms lay: At the same Time several of the Men, began to sing a Song,\nwith these Words, _Did not you promise me, that you would marry me_\n(which it seems was the Signal agreed upon among the Conspirators for\nseizing the Ship) _Bunch_ no sooner heard them, but he cried out aloud\nby G--d that will I, for I am Parson, and struck Mr. _Carr_ again\nseveral Blows with his own Sword; Mr. _Carr_ and _Turnley_ both seiz'd\nhim, and they began to struggle, when _Dennis Macarty_, with several\nothers, return'd from the Cabin with each a Cutlash in one Hand, and a\nloaded Pistol in the other, and running up to them said, _What do the\nGovernor's Dogs offer to resist?_ And beating _Turnley_ and _Carr_ with\ntheir Cutlashes, threaten'd to shoot them: At the same Time firing their\nPistols close to their Cheeks, upon which _Turnley_ and _Carr_ begg'd\ntheir Lives.\nWhen they were thus in Possession of the Vessel, they haled Captain\n_Greenway_, and desired him to come on Board about earnest Business: He,\nknowing nothing of what had pass'd, takes his Boat, and only with two\nHands rows on Board of them; as soon as he was come, _Dennis Macarty_\nleads him into the Cabin, and, as soon as he was there, lays hold of\nhim, telling him he was now a Prisoner, and must submit: He offered to\nmake some Resistance; upon which, they told him all Resistance would be\nvain, for his own Men were in the Plot; and, indeed, he saw the two\nHands which row'd him aboard now armed, and joining with the\nConspirators; wherefore he thought it was Time to submit.\nAs soon as this was done, they sent some Hands on Board to seize his\nSloop, or rather to acquaint his Men with what had been done, for they\nexpected to meet with no Resistance, many of them being in the Plot, and\nthe rest, they supposed, not very averse to it: After which, they\ndecoy'd Captain _White_ on Board, by the same Stratagem they used to\n_Greenway_, and likewise sent on Board his Sloop, and found his Men, one\nand all, well disposed for the Design; and what was most remarkable was,\nthat Captain _Augur_ seeing how Things were going, joined with them,\nshewing himself as well inclined for pyrating as the worst of them.\nThus they made themselves Masters of the three Vessels with very little\nTrouble. The next Thing to be done was to resolve how to dispose of\nthose who were not of their Party; some were for killing _John Turnley_,\nbut the Majority carried it for marrooning, that he might be starved,\nand die like a Dog, as they called it; their great Spleen to him was,\nbecause he was the Person who had piloted the Governor into\n_Providence_.\nAccordingly _Turnley_, with _John Carr_, _Thomas Rich_, and some others,\nwere stripp'd naked, and tumbled over the Vessel's Side into a Boat\nwhich lay alongside; the Oars were all taken out, and they left them\nnothing to work themselves ashore with but an old Paddle, which, at\nother Times serv'd to steer the Boat, and so they commanded them to be\ngone.--However, they made shift to get safe ashore to the Island, which,\nas we observed before, was quite uninhabited.\nThe next Morning _Dennis Macarty_, with several others, went on Shore,\nand told them they must come on Board again, and they would give them\nsome Clothes to put on. They fancied the Pyrates began to repent of the\nhard Usage they had given them, and were willing to return upon such an\nErrand; but when they got on Board again, they found their Opinion of\nthe Pyrates good Nature was very ill grounded, for they began with\nbeating them, and did it as if it were in Sport, one having a\nBoatswain's Pipe, the rest beating them till he piped _Belay_.\nThe true Design of bringing them on Board again was to make them\ndiscover where some Things lay, which they could not readily find, as\nparticularly Mr. _Carr_'s Watch and Silver Snuff-Box; but he was soon\nobliged to inform them in what Corner of the Cabin they lay, and there\nthey were found, with some Journals and other Books, which they knew how\nto make no other Use of, but by turning into Cartridges.--Then they\nbegan to question _Thomas Rich_ about a Gold Watch which had once been\nseen in his Possession on Shore at _Providence_; but he protested that\nit belonged to Captain _Gale_, who was Commander of the Guard-Ship\ncalled the _Delicia_, to which he then belonged; but his Protestations\nwould have availed him little, had it not been that some on Board who\nbelonged also to the _Delicia_ knew it to be true, which put an End to\nhis Beating; and so they were all discharged from their Punishment for\nthe present.\nSome Time after, fancying the Pyrates to be in better Humour, they\nbegg'd for something to eat, for they had none of them had any\nNourishment that Day or the Night before; but all the Answer they\nreceived was, that such Dogs should not ask such Questions: In the mean\nTime, some of the Pyrates were very busy endeavouring to persuade\nCaptain _Greenway_ to engage with them, for they knew him to be an\nexcellent Artist, but he was obstinate and would not; then it was\nproposed what should be done with him, and the Word went for marrooning,\nwhich was opposed by some, because he was a _Bermudian_, meaning, that\nhe might perhaps swim away, or swim on board his Vessel again, for the\n_Bermudians_ are all excellent Swimmers; but as he represented, that he\ncould not hurt them by his Swimming, he obtain'd the Favour for himself\nand the other Officers, to be set ashore with _Turnley_, _Carr_, and\n_Rich_. Accordingly they were put into the same Boat without Oars, to\nthe Number of eight, and were ordered to make the best of their Way on\nShore.\nThe Pyrates, the next Day, having examined all their Vessels, and\nfinding that _Greenway_'s Sloop was not fit for their Purpose, shifted\nevery Thing out of it; those that were sent on Shore could see from\nthence what they were doing, and when they saw them row off, _Greenway_\nswam on Board the Sloop, it is likely, to see whether they had left any\nThing behind them. They perceiv'd him, and fancied, he repented his\nrefusing to join with them, and was come to do it now; wherefore some of\nthem return'd back to the Sloop, to speak to him, but they found him of\nthe same Opinion he was in before; however he wheedled them into so much\ngood Humour, that they told him he might have his Sloop again, in which,\nindeed, they had left nothing except an old Main-Sail, and old\nFore-Sail, four small Pieces of _Irish_ Beef, in an old Beef Barrel, and\nabout twenty Biscuits, with a broken Bucket which was used to draw Water\nin, telling him that he and the rest must not go on Board till they were\nsail'd.\n_Greenway_ swam ashore again to give Notice to his Brothers in Distress,\nof what had pass'd; the same Afternoon _Bunch_ with several others went\non Shore, carrying with them six Bottles of Wine and some Biscuits.\nWhether this was done to tempt _Greenway_ again, or no, is hard to say;\nfor tho' they talk'd to him a great Deal, they drank all the Wine\nthemselves to the last Bottle, and then they gave each of the poor\nCreatures a Glass a-piece, with a Bit of Biscuit, and immediately after\nfell a beating them, and so went on Board.\nWhile they were on Shore, there came in a Turtle which belong'd to one\n_Thomas Bennet_ of _Providence_, whereof one _Benjamin Hutchins_ was\nMaster; they soon laid hold of her, for she went excellently well;\n_Hutchins_ was reputed an extraordinary good Pilot among those Islands,\nwherefore they tempted him to engage with them; at first he refused, but\nrather than be maroon'd, he afterwards consented.\nIt was now the ninth of _October_, and they were just preparing to sail,\nwhen they sent on Shore, ordering the _condemn'd Malefactors_ to come on\nBoard of the _Lancaster_, that was _Greenway_'s Sloop; they did so in\nthe little Boat they went on Shore in, by the Help of the same Paddle;\nthey found several of the Pyrates there, who told them that they gave\nthem that Sloop to return to _Providence_, tho' they let them have no\nmore Stores, than what were named before; they bad them take the\nFore-Sail, and bend it for a Gib, and furl it close down to the\nBoltsprit, and to furl the Main-Sail close up upon the Boom: They did as\nthey were order'd, for they knew there was no disputing whether it was\nright or wrong.\nSoon after, another Detachment came on Board, among which were _Bunch_\nand _Dennis Macarty_, who being either mad or drunk, fell upon them,\nbeating them, and cutting the Rigging and Sails to Pieces with their\nCutlashes and commanding them not to sail, till they should hear from\nthem again, cursing and damning, if they did, they would put them all to\nDeath, if ever they met them again; and so they went off, carrying with\nthem the Boat, which they sent them first ashore in, and sail'd away.\nThey left them in this miserable Condition without Tackle to go their\nVoyage, and without a Boat to get on Shore, and having Nothing in View\nbut to perish for Want; but as Self-Preservation put them upon exerting\nthemselves, in Order to get out of this deplorable State, they began to\nrummage and search the Vessel thro' every Hole and Corner, to see if\nnothing was left which might be of use to them; and it happen'd by\nChance that they found an old Hatchet, with which they cut some Sticks\nsharp to serve for Marlenspikes; they also cut out several other Things,\nto serve instead of such Tools as are absolutely necessary on Board a\nShip.\nWhen they had proceeded thus far, every Man began to work as hard as he\ncould; they cut a Piece of Cable, which they strung into Rope Yarns, and\nfell to mend their Sails with all possible Expedition; they also made a\nKind of Fishing-Lines of the said Rope-Yarns, and bent some Nails\ncrooked to serve for Hooks; but as they were destitute of a Boat, as\nwell for the Use of Fishing as for going on Shore, they resolved to make\na Bark Log, that is, to lay two or three Logs together, and tie them\nclose, upon which two or three Men may sit very safely in smooth Water.\nAs soon as this was done, some Hands went on Shore, upon one of the said\nLogs (for they made two of them) who employ'd themselves in cutting wild\nCabbage, gathering Berries, and a Fruit which the Seamen call Pricklie\nPears, for Food, while some others went a Fishing upon another.--Those\nwho went ashore also carried the old Bucket with them, so that whilst\nsome were busy in gathering Things to serve for Provision, one Hand was\nconstantly employ'd, in bringing fresh Water aboard in the said Bucket,\nwhich was tedious Work, considering how little could be brought at a\nTime, and that the Sloop lay near a Mile from the Shore.\nWhen they had employ'd themselves thus, for about four or five Days,\nthey brought their Sails and Tackle into such Order, having also a\nlittle Water, Cabbage, and other Things on Board, that they thought it\nwas Time to venture to sail; accordingly they weigh'd their Anchor, and\nputting out all the Sail they had, got out to the Harbour's Mouth, when\nto their great Terror and Surprize, they saw the Pyrates coming in\nagain.\nThey were much frighten'd at the Pyrates unexpected Return, because of\nthe Threatnings they had used to them at parting, not to sail without\nfurther Orders; wherefore they tack'd about, and ran as close into the\nShore as they could, then throwing out their Bark Logs, they all put\nthemselves upon them, and made to Land, as fast as they could work; but\nbefore they quite reach'd it, the Pyrates got so near that they fired at\nthem, but were too far to do Execution; however, they pursued them\nashore; the poor Fugitives immediately took to the Woods, and for\ngreater Security climb'd up some Trees, whose Branches were very thick,\nand by that Means concealed themselves. The Pyrates not finding them,\nsoon return'd to their Boat, and row'd on board the deserted Sloop,\nwhose Mast and Boltsprit they cut away, and towing her into deep Water,\nsunk her; after which, they made again for the Shore, thinking that the\nFugitives would have been come out of their lurking Holes, and that they\nshould surprize them; but they continued still on the Tops of their\nTrees and saw all that pass'd, and therefore thought it safest to keep\ntheir Posts.\nThe Pyrates not finding them, return'd to their Vessels, and weighing\ntheir Anchors, set sail, steering Eastward: In the mean time, the poor\nFugitives were in Despair, for seeing their Vessel sunk, they had scarce\nany Hopes left of escaping the Danger of perishing upon that uninhabited\nIsland; there they lived eight Days, feeding upon Berries, and\nShell-Fish, such as Cockles and Perriwinckles, sometimes catching a\nStingrey, a Fish resembling Mead or Thornback, which coming into Shoal\nWater, they could wade near them, and by the Help of a Stick sharpen'd\nat the End, which they did by rubbing it against the Rock, (for they had\nnot a Knife left amongst them) they stuck them as if it had been with a\nSpear.\nIt must be observed, that they had no Means of striking a Fire, and\ntherefore their Way of dressing this Fish was, by dipping it often in\nSalt Water, then laying it in the Sun, till it became both hard and dry,\nand then they eat it.\nAfter passing eight Days in this Manner, the Pyrates return'd, and saw\nthe poor Fugitives ashore, who according to Custom made to the Woods;\nbut their Hearts began to relent towards them, and sending ashore, they\nordered a Man to go into the Woods single, to call out to them, and\npromise them upon their Honour, if they would appear, that they would\ngive them Victuals and Drink, and not use them ill any more.\nThese Promises, and the Hunger which pinch'd them, tempted them to come\nforth, and accordingly they went on Board with them, and they were as\ngood as their Words, for they gave them as much Beef and Biscuit as they\ncould eat, during two or three Days they were on Board, but would not\ngive them a Bit to carry on Shore; they also gave them three or four\nBlankets amongst them, to cover their Nakedness (for as we observed,\nthey were quite naked) and let them have some Needles and Thread, to\nmake them into some Form.\nThere was on Board one _George Redding_, an Inhabitant of _Providence_,\nwho was taken out of the _Turtle Sloop_, and who was a forced Man, being\nan Acquaintance of _Richard Turnley_, and knowing, that he was resolved\nto go ashore again, rather than engage with the Pyrates, and hearing him\nsay, that they could find Food to keep them alive, if they had but Fire\nto dress it, privately gave him a Tinder-Box, with Materials in it for\nstriking Fire, which, in his Circumstances, was a greater Present than\nGold or Jewels.\nSoon after, the Pyrates put the Question to them, whether they would\nengage, or be put ashore? And they all agreed upon the latter: Upon\nwhich a Debate arose amongst the Pyrates, whether they should comply\nwith their Request or no? And at length it was agreed, that _Greenway_\nand the other two Masters should be kept whether they would or no: And\nthe rest, being five in Number, should be as the Pyrates express'd it,\nhave a second Refreshment of the Varieties of the Island.\nAccordingly _Richard Turnley_, _James Carr_, _Thomas Rich_, _John Cox_,\nand _John Taylor_, were a second Time marooned, and the Pyrates as soon\nas they landed them, sail'd off, steering Eastward, till they came to an\nIsland call'd _Pudden Point_, near _Long-Island_ in the Latitude of 24,\nwhere they cleaned their Vessels.\nIn the mean Time _Turnley_ and his Companions made a much better Shift\nthan they had done before, his Friend _George Redding_'s Present being\nof infinite Use to them, for they constantly kept a good Fire, with\nwhich they broil'd their Fish; there were Plenty of Land Crabs and\nSnakes in the Island, which they could eat when they were dress'd, and\nthus they pass'd fourteen Days: At the End of which, the Pyrates made\nthem another Visit, and they according to Custom made for the Woods,\nthinking that the Reason of their Return must be, in order to force them\nto serve amongst them.\nBut here they were mistaken, for the Anger of these Fellows being over,\nthey began to pity them, and came now with a Design to succour them; but\ngoing ashore, and not finding them, they knew they were hid for Fear:\nNevertheless, they left upon the Shore, where they knew they would come,\nsome Stores which they intended in this Fit of good Humour to present\nthem with.\nThe poor Islanders were got to their Retreat, the Tops of the Trees, and\nsaw the Pyrates go off; upon which they ventured down, and going to the\nWater-side, were agreeably surprized to find a small Cask of Flower, of\nbetwixt twenty and thirty Pounds, about a Bushel of Salt, two Bottles of\nGunpowder, several Bullets, besides a Quantity of small Shot, with a\nCouple of Musquets, a very good Axe, and also a Pot and a Pan, and three\nDogs, which they took in the _Turtle Sloop_; which Dogs are bred to\nHunting, and generally the Sloops which go Turtling, carry some of them,\nas they are very useful in tracing out the wild Hogs; besides all these,\nthere were a dozen Horn-handled Knives, of that Sort which are usually\ncarried to _Guiney_.\nThey carried all these Things into the Wood, to that Part where they had\ntheir fresh Water, and where they usually kept, and immediately went to\nwork with their Axe; some cutting down Bows, and making Poles, so that\nfour of them were employ'd in building a Hut, while _Richard Turnley_\ntaking the Dogs and a Gun, went a hunting, he understanding that Sport\nvery well. He had not been gone long before he kill'd a large Boar,\nwhich he brought home to his Companions, who fell to cutting it up, and\nsome they dress'd for their Dinner, and the rest they salted, for\nanother Time.\nThus they lived, as they thought, very happy, in respect to their former\nCondition; but after four Days, the Pyrates made them another Visit, for\nthey wanted to fill some Casks with Water: It happen'd when they came\nin, that _Turnley_ was gone a Hunting, and the rest all busy at some\nWork, so that they did not see them, till they just came into the Wood\nupon them; seeing the Hut, one of them in Wantonness set it on Fire, and\nit was burnt to the Ground; and they appear'd inclined to do Mischief,\nwhen _Richard Turnley_ knowing nothing of the Matter, happened to return\nfrom Hunting, with a fine Hog upon his Back, as much as he could carry;\nhe was immediately surrounded by the Pyrates, who seized upon the fresh\nMeat, and which seemed to put them into better Humour, they made\n_Richard Cox_ carry it down to their Boat, and when he had done, they\ngave him a Bottle of Rum to carry back to his Companions to drink their\nHealths, telling him, that they might get home if they could, or if they\nstaid there, they never would trouble them any more.\nThey were, indeed, as good as their Words, for sailing away immediately,\nthey made for _Long Island_, and coming up toward the Salt Ponds there,\nthey saw at a Distance in the Harbour, three Vessels at an Anchor, and\nsupposing them to be either _Bermudas_ or _New-York_ Sloops lying there\nto take in Salt, they bore down upon them with all the Sail they could\nmake, expecting a good Booty. The _Turtle Sloop_ taken from _Benjamin\nHutchins_, was by much the best Sailor; however, it was almost dark\nbefore she came up with them, and then coming close alongside of one of\nthem, she gave a Broadside, with a Design to board the next Minute, but\nreceived such a Volley of small Shot in return, as killed and wounded a\ngreat many of the Pyrates, and the rest, in great Surprize and Fright,\njumped overboard, to save themselves by swimming ashore.\nThe Truth on't is, these Sloops proved to be _Spanish_ Privateers, who\nobserving the Pyrates to bear down upon them, prepared themselves for\nAction: The Commander in Chief of these three Privateers was one who was\ncalled by the Name of _Turn Joe_, because he had once privateer'd on the\n_English_ Side; he had also been a Pyrate, and now acted by Vertue of a\nCommission from a _Spanish_ Governor. He was by Birth an _Irishman_, a\nbold enterprising Fellow, and was afterwards killed in an Engagement\nwith one _John Bonnavee_, Captain of Privateer belonging to _Jamaica_.\nBut to return to our Story: The Sloop was taken, and on board her was\nfound, desperately wounded _Phineas Bunch_, who was the Captain.--By and\nby a second of the Pyrate Sloops came up; she heard the Volley, and\nsupposed it to be fired by _Bunch_, when he boarded one of the Sloops;\nshe came also alongside of one of the _Spaniards_, and received the\nWelcome that was given to _Bunch_, and submitted as soon. A little\nafter, came up the third, which was taken with the same Ease, and in the\nsame Manner, as many of the Pyrates as could swim, jumping over board to\nsave themselves on Shore, there not being a Man lost on the Side of the\n_Spaniards_.\nThe next Day _Turn Joe_ asked them many Questions, and finding out that\nseveral amongst them had been forc'd Men, he, with the Consent of the\nother _Spanish_ Officers, ordered all the Goods to be taken out of a\n_Spanish_ Launce, and putting some of the wounded Pyrates into the said\nLaunce, with some Provision, Water, and other Liquors, gave it to the\nforced Men, to carry them to _Providence_.\nAccordingly _George Redding_, _Thomas Betty_, _Matthew Betty_, _Benjamin\nHutchins_, with some others, set Sail, and in eight and forty Hours\narrived in the Harbour of _Providence_.\nThey went on Shore immediately, and acquainted the Governor with every\nThing that had pass'd, from the Time of their setting out, acquainting\nhim, that _Phineas Bunch_, who was one of the chief Authors of all the\nMischief, was on board the _Launce_; the Governor, with some others,\nwent and examined him, and he confessed all, wherefore there was no\nOccasion for a Trial; and as he had been pardoned before, and it was\nnecessary to make some speedy Example, it was resolved that he should be\nexecuted the next Day, but it was prevented by his dying that Night of\nhis Wounds.\nThey also informed the Governor of the Condition of _Turnley_, _Car_,\nand the rest, who were marooned by the Pyrates upon _Green Key_ Island;\nupon which the Governor sent for one _John Sims_, a Molotto Man, who had\na two Mast Boat in the Harbour of _Providence_, very fit for sailing;\nand laying some Provisions into the said Boat, ordered him to get five\nor six Hands, and to sail for _Green Key_, in order to bring off the\nfive Men there marooned.\n_Sims_ accordingly made the best of his Way, and sailing out in the\nMorning, arrived at _Green Key_ the next Day towards Evening. The poor\nPeople on Shore saw them, and supposing them to be some of the Pyrates\nreturned, thought it best to take to the Wood and hide, not knowing what\nHumour they might be in now.\n_Sims_ and his Ship-Mates carried some Provision on Shore, not knowing\nbut they might want, and searched about, and calling out to them by\ntheir Names. After wandering about some Time, they came to the Place\nwhere the Fire was constantly kept; at perceiving which, they fancied\nthey must be thereabouts, and that it would be best to wait for them\nthere, and accordingly they sat them down, laying the Provisions near\nthem. _Turnley_, who was climbed to the Top of a Tree just by, saw them,\nand observed their Motions, and fancied they were no Enemies who were\nbringing them Provisions, and, looking more earnestly, he knew _Sims_\nthe Molotto, whom he was very well acquainted with at _Providence_; upon\nwhich he called him, who desired him to come down, telling him the\ncomfortable News, that he was come to the Relief of him and his\nCompanions.\n_Turnley_ made what Haste he could to the Bottom, and as soon as he was\ndown, summoned his Companions, who were climbed to the Top of some\nneighbouring Trees, being in Haste to communicate the glad Tidings to\nthem; being all together, the Molotto related to them the History of\nwhat had happened to the Pyrates.\nThat Night they supped comfortably together upon the Provision brought\nashore; but so strange an Effect has Joy, that scarce one of them slept\na Wink that Night, as they declared. The next Day they agreed to go a\nHunting, in order to get something fresh to carry off with them, and\nwere so successful, that they killed three fine Hogs. When they\nreturn'd, they made the best of their Way on Board, carrying with them\nall their Utensils, and set Sail for _Providence_, whither they arrived\nin three Days; it being now just seven Weeks from the Time of their\nbeing first set on Shore by the Pyrates.\nThe Governor, in the mean Time, was fitting out a Sloop to send for\n_Long Island_, in order to take those Pyrates who had saved themselves\nnear the Salt Ponds there, which Sloop was now ready to sail, and put\nunder the Command of _Benjamin Horneygold_; _Turnley_ and his Companions\nembarked on Board of her, and Care was taken to get as many Men as they\ncould, who were entire Strangers to the Pyrates.\nWhen they arrived at the said Island, they run in pretty near the Shore,\nkeeping but few Hands on Deck, that it might look like a trading Vessel,\nand those Men that were quite unknown to the Pyrates.\nThe Pyrates seeing them, came only two or three of them near the Shore,\nthe rest lying in Ambush, not without Hopes of finding an Opportunity to\nseize the Sloop. The Sloop sent her Boat out towards the Shore, with\nOrders to lie off at a little Distance, as if she was afraid: Those in\nAmbush seeing the Boat so near, had not Patience to stay any longer, but\nflocked to the Water Side, calling out to them to come on Shore, and\nhelp them, for they were poor Ship-wreck'd Men, almost perish'd for\nWant. Upon which the Boat row'd back again to the Sloop.\nUpon second Thoughts they sent her off again with two Bottles of Wine, a\nBottle of Rum, and some Biscuits, and sent another Man, who was a\nStranger to those ashore, with Orders to pass for Master of the Vessel.\nAs soon as they approach'd them, the Pyrates call'd to them as before,\nbegging them, for God's sake to come on Shore; they did so, and gave\nthem the Biscuit, Wine and Rum, which he said he brought ashore on\npurpose to comfort them, because his Men told him they were cast away.\nThey were very inquisitive to know where he was bound; he told them, to\n_New-York_, and that he came in there to take in Salt: They earnestly\nintreated him to take them on Board, and carry them as Passengers to\n_New-York_; they being about sixteen in Number, he answered, he was\nafraid he had not Provision sufficient for so great a Number; but that\nhe would go on Board and over-hall his Provision, and, if they pleased,\nsome of them might go with him, and see how his Stock stood, that at\nleast he would carry some of them, and leave some Refreshment for the\nrest, till they could be succoured another Way, but that he hoped they\nwould make him some Recompence when they should arrive at _New York_.\nThey seemed wonderfully pleased with his Proposal, and promised to make\nhim ample Satisfaction for all the Charges he should be at, pretending\nto have good Friends and considerable Effects in several Parts of\n_America_. Accordingly he took several of them with him in the Boat, and\nas soon as they got on Board, he invited them into the Cabin, where, to\ntheir Surprize, they saw _Benjamin Horneygold_, formerly a Brother\nPyrate; but what astonished them more, was to see _Richard Turnley_,\nwhom they had lately marooned upon _Green Key_; they were immediately\nsurrounded by several with Pistols in their Hands, and clapped in Irons.\nAs soon as this was over, the Boat went on Shore again, and those in the\nBoat told the Pyrates, that the Captain would venture to carry them with\nwhat Provision he had; at which they appeared much rejoyced, and so the\nrest were brought on Board, and without much Trouble clapped in Irons,\nas well as their Companions.\nThe Sloop had nothing more to do, and therefore set Sail, and reaching\n_Providence_, delivered the Pyrates all Prisoners into the Fort: A Court\nof Admiralty was immediately called, and they were all tried, and ten\nreceived Sentence of Death; the other six were acquitted, it appearing\nthat they were forced. The following nine were executed in the Manner\ndescribed in the first Volume, _John Augur_, _William Cunningham_,\n_Dennis Macarty_, _William Lewis_, _Thomas Morris_, _George Bendal_,\n_William Morris_, _George Bendal_, _William Ling_, and _George Rogers_.\n_George Rounsavil_ was reprieved after he had been tied up, and just\ngoing to be cast off, and was brought down to see the Execution of the\nrest.\nBut we cannot quit this Story without taking Notice of the Fate of this\n_George Rounsavil_. He work'd for some Time ashore for his living, but\nafterwards ingaged himself with Captain _Burghess_, a pardoned Pyrate,\nwho had received a Commission to go a privateering. It happened they\nwere driven upon the Rocks to the Southward of _Green Key_ Island, and\nthere they were beat to pieces; this _Rounsavil_, with five others, upon\nthe first Shock, stept into the Canoe, and were going off, when\n_Burghess_ standing upon the Poop of his Vessel, call'd out to him,\nsaying, _Will you go away and leave me to perish in this Manner_.\n_Rounsavil_ begg'd his Companions to put back, and take him in; but they\nanswered, that the rest would be as willing to save themselves as he,\nand of Consequence, so many would crowd into the Canoe as would sink it,\nwherefore they would not venture it; upon which he jump'd into the\nWater, and swam to the Vessel, and there perished with his Friend since\nhe could not save him.\nWe shall add here a few Particulars (not mentioned in our first Volume)\nof the famous _Blackbeard_, relating to his taking the South _Carolina_\nShips, and insulting that Colony. This was at the Time that the Pyrates\nhad obtained such an Acquisition of Strength, that they were in no\nConcern about preserving themselves from the Justice of Laws, but of\nadvancing their Power, and maintaining their Sovereignty, not over the\nSeas only, but to stretch their Dominions to the Plantations themselves,\nand the Governors thereof, insomuch that when their Prisoners came\naboard their Captors Ships, the Pyrates freely own'd their Acquaintance\nwith them, and never endeavour'd to conceal their Names, or Habitations,\nas if they had been Inhabitants of a legal Commonwealth, and were\nresolved to treat with all the World on the Foot of a free State; and\nall judicial Acts went in the Name of _Teach_, under the Title of\nCommodore.\nAll the _Carolina_ Prisoners were lodg'd aboard the Commodore's Ship,\nafter being strictly examin'd concerning the Lading of their Vessels,\nand the Number and Condition of other Traders in the Harbour; when they\nthought they would sail, and whither bound: And the Enquiry was so\nsolemnly carried on, that the Pyrates swore, that it should be Death for\nthat Man that told a Lye, or otherwise shifted or evaded in his Answers.\nAt the same Time all their Papers were perused with the same Diligence\nas though it had been at the Secretary's Office here in _England_. When\nthis Business was gone through, Word was given, that all the Prisoners\nshould be immediately turn'd aboard their own Ship, out of which they\nhad already taken their Provisions and Stores. This was done with that\nHurry and Precipitation, that it struck a great Terror in the\nunfortunate People, verily believing they were then going to their\nDestruction; and what seem'd to confirm them in this Notion was, that no\nRegard was had to the Qualities of the Prisoners, but Merchants,\nGentlemen of Rank, and even a Child of Mr. _Wragg_'s, were thrust aboard\nin a tumultuous and confus'd Manner, and lock'd all under the Hatches,\nwhere not so much as one Pyrate stay'd amongst them.\nIn this melancholly Situation were these innocent People left, bewailing\ntheir Condition for several Hours, expecting every Moment that pass'd\neither that a Match would be laid to a Train to blow them up, or that\nthe Ship was to be set on Fire, or sunk; no Body could tell which, but\nevery one supposed they were, one Way or other, destin'd for a Sacrifice\nto their brutal Humours.\nBut, at length, a Gleam of Light shot in upon them, that recover'd their\ndrooping Souls; the Hatches were unlaid, and they were immediately\norder'd back on board the Commodore: They began then to think the\nPyrates had changed their savage Resolution; and that God had inspired\nthem with Sentiments less shocking to Nature and Humanity, and they went\naboard, as it were, with new Life. The Chief of them were brought before\n_Blackbeard_, the Pyrates General, who acquainted them with the Occasion\nof that extraordinary Procedure; and that they were only put out of the\nWay while a general Council was held, at which Time they suffer'd no\nPrisoner to be present. He told them, the Company was in want of\nMedicines, and must be supply'd from the Province; that their first\nSurgeon had drawn up a Catalogue, which he would send to the Governor\nand Council, by two of his own Officers, for whose safe Return, as well\nas for the Chest it self, they had come to a Resolution of keeping all\nthe Prisoners as Hostages, who would all be put to Death, if such their\nDemands were not comply'd with punctually.\nMr. _Wragg_ answer'd, that, perhaps, it might not be in their Power to\ncomply with every Part of it; and, he fear'd, that some certain Drugs in\nthe Surgeon's List, were not to be had in the Province; and, if it\nshould prove so, he hop'd they would be contented to have that Want made\nup by substituting something else in the Place. He likewise proposed,\nthat one of them might go with the two Gentlemen that were to be sent on\nthe Embassy, who might truly represent the Danger they were in, and\ninduce them more readily to submit, in order to save the Lives of so\nmany of the King's Subjects; and further, to prevent any Insult from the\ncommon People, (for whose Conduct, on such an Occasion, they could not\nanswer) on the Persons of his Envoys.\nHis Excellency _Blackbeard_ thought this Advice reasonable, and\ntherefore call'd another Council, who likewise approv'd of the\nAmendment; thereupon Mr. _Wragg_, who was the first in Authority, and\nknown to be a Man of good Understanding among the _Carolinians_, was\noffer'd, and the Gentleman, himself, was willing to leave a young Son in\nthe Hands of the Pyrates, till he should return, which he promis'd to\ndo, though the Government should refuse the Terms of their Releasement:\nBut _Blackbeard_ positively deny'd this Request, saying, he knew too\nwell of what consequence he was in the _Provence_, and he would be\nequally so to them, and therefore he should be the last Man they would\npart with.\nAfter some Debate, Mr. _Marks_ was agreed upon to accompany the\nAmbassadors, and accordingly they went off from the Fleet in a Canoe,\nand two Days were appointed for their Return; in the mean while the\nCommadore lay too at five or six Leagues Distance from the Land,\nexpecting the Conditions of Peace; but the Time expiring, and nothing\nappearing from the Harbour, Mr. _Wragg_ was sent for up before _Teach_,\nwho putting on a terrible Countenance, told him, they were not to be\ntrifled with, that he imagined some foul Treachery was play'd them, and\nthat nothing but immediate Death to them all should be the Consequence\nof it. Mr. _Wragg_ begg'd to respite the dreadful Execution one Day\nlonger, for, that he was sure, the Province regarded their Lives so\nmuch, that they would be sollicitous to the last Degree to redeem them;\nthat, perhaps, some Misfortune might have befallen the Canoe in going\nin, or it might be their own Men that occasioned the Delay, for either\nof which it would be hard for them to suffer.\n_Teach_ was pacified for the present, and allow'd a Day more for their\ncoming back; but at the End of that Time, how was he enraged to find\nhimself disappointed, calling them Villains a thousand Times, and\nswearing, they should not live two Hours. Mr. _Wragg_, humour'd him all\nhe could, and desired a good Look-out should be kept. Matters seem'd now\nto be coming to Extremities, and no Body thought their Lives worth a\nDay's Purchase; the innocent People were under great Agonies of Mind,\nexpecting that nothing but a Miracle could preserve them from being\ncrush'd by the Weight of the Enemy's Power, when Word was given from the\nForecastle, that a small Boat appear'd in Sight. This raised their\ndrooping Spirits, and reviv'd their Hopes; _Blackbeard_ went forward\nhimself with his Spying-Glass, and declared he could perceive his own\nScarlet Cloak he lent Mr. _Marks_ to go ashore in; this was thought to\nbe a sure Reprieve, till the Boat came aboard, and then their Fears\nreturned, seeing neither the Pyrates, Mr. _Marks_, nor the Chest of\nMedicines in the Boat.\nThis Boat, it seems, was sent off by Mr. _Marks_ very discreetly, lest a\nMisconstruction should be put upon the Stay, that an unfortunate\nAccident had occasioned, and which the Men that belong'd to her\nacquainted the Commodore of, _viz._ That the Boat they had sent ashore\nwas cast away, being overset by a sudden Squall of Wind, and the Men\nwith great Trouble had got ashore at the uninhabited Island of ......\nthree or four Leagues from the Main, that having staid there some time\ntill reduced to Extremity, there being no Provision of any Kind, and\nfearing what Disaster might befal the Prisoners aboard; the Persons\nbelonging to their Company, set Mr. _Marks_ upon a Hatch, and floated it\nupon the Sea, after which, they stripp'd and flung themselves in, and\nswiming after it, and thrust the Float forward, endeavouring, by that\nmeans, to get to Town. This prov'd a very tedious Voiture, and in all\nLikelihood they had perished, had not this Fishing Boat sail'd by in the\nMorning, and perceiving something in the Water, made to it, and took\nthem in, when they were near spent with their Labour.\nWhen they were thus providentially preserv'd, Mr. _Marks_ went into\n...... and there hired a Boat which carried them to _Charles Town_; in\nthe mean time he had sent this Boat to give them an Account of the\nAccident. Mr. _Teach_ was pacified with this Relation, and consented to\nstay two Days longer, since there appeared no Fault of theirs in causing\nthis Delay. At the End of two Days, they lost all Patience, and the\nCommodore could not be prevail'd on to give them any longer Time than\nthe next Morning to live, if the Boat did not return by that Time. Still\nexpecting and still disappointed, the Gentlemen knew not what to say,\nnor how to excuse their Friends at Land; some of them told the Pyrates,\nthat they had equal Reason with them to blame their Conduct; that they\ndoubted not, by what had already happen'd, of Mr. _Mark_'s doing his\nDuty faithfully; and since they had received Notice of the Boat's going\nsafe into _Charles Town_, they could not conceive what should hinder the\nExecution of the Business, unless they put a greater Value on the Chest\nof Medicines, than on the Lives of fourscore Men now on the Verge of\nDestruction. _Teach_, for his Part, believed they had imprisoned his\nMen, and refused the Condition of the Prisoner's Enlargement, and swore\na thousand Times, that they should not only die, but every _Carolina_\nMan that hereafter should fall into his Hands. The Prisoners, at last,\npetitioned to have this one Favour granted, _viz._ That the Fleet should\nweigh and stand off the Harbour, and if they should not then see the\nBoat coming out, that they the Prisoners would pilot them in before the\nTown, which, if they pleased to batter down, they would stand by them to\nthe last Man.\nThis Proposal of taking Revenge for the supposed Treachery (as the\nCommodore was pleased to term it) suited well enough the Savage Temper\nof the General and his Brutes, and he acquiesc'd at once. The Project\nwas likewise approv'd on by the Myrmidons, and accordingly they weigh'd\nAnchor, being in all eight Sail of Ships, which were the Prizes they had\nin Custody, and rang'd along the Town; the Inhabitants then had their\nShare of the Fright, expecting nothing less than a general Attack; the\nMen were brought all under Arms, but not in so regular a manner as might\nhave been done, had the Surprize been less; but the Women and Children\nran about the Street like mad Things. However, before Matters came to\nExtremities, the Boat was seen coming out, which brought Redemption to\nthe poor Captives, and Peace to all.\nThe Chest was brought aboard, and accepted of, and it further appear'd,\nthat Mr. _Marks_ had done his Duty, and the Blame of the Delay was\ndeservedly thrown on the two Pyrates that were sent on the Embassy; for\nwhile the Gentlemen attended the Governor and Council upon the Business,\nthe other fine Gentlemen were visiting and drinking with their _quondam_\nFriends and Acquaintance, and going from House to House, so that they\nwere not to be found when the Medicines were ready to go aboard; and Mr.\n_Marks_ knew it were Death to them all to go without them, for the\nCommodore would not easily have believ'd, had they not returned, that\nthere had been no foul Play acted by them. But now none but smiling\nCountenances were seen aboard; the Storm that threatned the Prisoners so\nheavily, blew over, and a Day of Sun-shine succeeded; in short,\n_Blackbeard_ released them as he had promised, and sent them away in the\nShips after he had done with them, and then sail'd off the Coast, as has\nbeen mentioned in _Vol._ I. _page 73_.\nWhat follows, contains Reflections on a Gentleman now deceas'd, who was\nGovernor of _North Carolina_, namely, _Charles Eden_, Esq; which, we\napprehend, by Accounts since receiv'd, to be without just Grounds,\ntherefore, it will be necessary to say something in this Place, to take\noff the Calumny thrown on his Character, by Persons who have misjudged\nof his Conduct by the Height Things appeared in at that time.\nUpon a Review of this Part of _Blackbeard_'s Story, it does not seem, by\nany Matters of Fact candidly considered, that the said Governour held\nany private or criminal Correspondence with this Pyrate; and I have been\ninform'd since, by very good Hands, that Mr. _Eden_ always behaved, as\nfar as he had Power, in a manner suitable to his Post, and bore the\nCharacter of a good Governor, and an honest Man.\nBut his Misfortune was, the Weakness of the Colony he commanded, wanting\nStrength to punish the Disorders of _Teach_, who lorded it at Pleasure,\nnot only in the Plantation, but in the Governor's own Habitation,\nthreatening to destroy the Town with Fire and Sword, if any Injury was\noffer'd to him or his Companions, insomuch, that he sometimes drew up\nhis Vessel against the Town, and once, when he suspected that there was\na Design of seizing him, he went ashore to the Governor well armed, and\nleft Orders with his Men on board, that in Case he should not return in\nan Hour's Time (as he determined, if at Liberty) to batter down the\nHouse about their Ears, without any more to do, notwithstanding he\nhimself were to be in it. Such were the outragious Insolencies of this\nVillain, who was so big with Mischief, that he resolved to be revenged\nupon his Enemies at all Events, even tho' he should give up his own\nLife, as a Sacrifice, to obtain those wicked Ends.\nIt is to be observed, that _Blackbeard_, nevertheless, as to his\nPyracies, had comply'd with the Proclamation, and thereby satisfied the\nLaw, and having a Certificate thereof from under the Hand of his\nExcellency, he could not be prosecuted for any of those Crimes committed\nheretofore, because they were wiped off by the said Proclamation of\nPardon: And as to condemning the _French Martinico_ Man that\n_Blackbeard_ brought in to _North Carolina_ afterwards, the Governor\nproceeded judicially upon her. He called a Court of Vice Admiralty, by\nvirtue of his Commission; at which four of the Crew swore they found the\nShip at Sea with no Person on board her, so the Court condemn'd her, as\nany other Court must have done, and the Cargo was disposed of according\nto Law.\nAs to the secret Expedition from _Virginia_, undertaken by the Governor\nand the two Captains of Men of War, they had their secret Views in it:\nThe Men of War had lain up these ten Months whilst the Pyrates infested\nthe Coast, and did great Mischief, for which, 'tis likely, they might\nhave been called to an Account; but the Success of the Enterprize\nagainst _Teach_, alias _Blackbeard_, perhaps prevented such Enquiry,\ntho' I am at a Loss to know what Acts of Pyracy he had committed after\nthis Surrender to the Proclamation; the _French_ Ship was lawfully\ncondemned, as has been said before, and if he had committed any\nDepredations amongst the Planters, as they seem'd to complain of, they\nwere not upon the high Sea, but either in the River, or on Shore, and\ncould not come within the Jurisdiction of the Admiralty, nor under any\nLaws of Pyracy. The Governor of _Virginia_ found his Interest in the\nAffair; for he sent, at the same time, a Force by Land, and seiz'd\nconsiderable Effects of _Blackbeard_'s in _Eden_'s Province, which was\ncertainly a new Thing for the Governor of one Province, whose Commission\nwas limited to that Jurisdiction, to exercise Authority in another\nGovernment, and the Governour himself upon the Spot. Thus was poor Mr.\n_Eden_ insulted and abused on all Sides, without having the Power of\ndoing himself Justice, and asserting his lawful Rights.\nIn fine, to do Justice to Governor _Eden_'s Character, who is since\ndead, there did not appear from any Writings or Letters found in\n_Blackbeard_'s Sloop, or from any other Evidence whatsoever, that the\nsaid Governor was concerned at all in any Male Practice; but on the\ncontrary, that during his Continuance in that Post, he was honour'd and\nbeloved by his Colony, for his Uprightness, Probity, and prudent Conduct\nin his Administration; what Affairs were carried on privately by his\nthen Secretary I know not; he died a few Days after _Blackbeard_'s\nDestruction, and no Enquiry was made; perhaps there might be no Occasion\nfor it.\nI have but few Words to add to Major _Bonnet_'s Life and Actions; when\nhis Dissolution drew nigh, all his Resolution fail'd him, and his Fears\nand Agonies so wrought upon him, that he was scarce sensible when he\ncame to the Place of Execution. His piteous Behaviour under Sentence,\nvery much affected the People of the Province, particularly the Women,\nand great Application was made to the Governor for saving his Life, but\nin vain; not that his Excellency Colonel _Johnson_ pleased himself in\nActs of severe Justice, but he knew his Duty too well to be misled by\nthe Tears and Prayers of weak and inconsiderate People, when the publick\nGood, as well as his own Honour, stood in Question. Had not _Bonnet_\nescap'd out of his Keeper's Hand, after he was taken, and occasioned the\nDeath of his Fellow-Prisoner _Harriot_, by resisting the Governor's\nAuthority, and therein given a new Specimen of his disloyal Intentions,\nsomething might have been done in his Favour; but he was become too\nnotorious, and too dangerous a Criminal, to give Life to. However, the\nGovernor who conducted himself in his Post as well as in his private\nCapacity, with great Probity, Honour, and Candour, hearkened to a\nProposal of _Bonnet_'s Friends, which was to send him Prisoner to\n_England_, that his Case might be referr'd to his Majesty. Col. _Rhet_\noffer'd to go with him, and sufficient Security was to be given for\nyielding him up there, to be dealt with according to his Majesty's\nPleasure; but the Major's Friends considered, at last, that it would be\na great Expence and Trouble to no manner of purpose, except the\nlengthening out a wretched Life some small Time longer; for they\nconceived as little Hope of obtaining a Pardon in _England_ as in _South\nCarolina_; so they even submitted to the Execution of that Sentence upon\nthe Major, that had with so much Justice pass'd upon him. I shall\nsubjoin here a Copy of a Letter, writ to the Governor from the Prisoner\nsometime before he died.\n_Honoured Sir_,\n'I Have presumed, on the Confidence of your eminent Goodness, to throw\nmy self, after this manner, at your Feet, to implore you'll graciously\nbe pleased to look upon me with tender Bowels of Pity and Compassion;\nand believe me to be the most miserable Man this Day breathing: That the\nTears proceeding from my most sorrowful Soul may soften your Heart, and\nincline you to consider my dismal State, wholly, I must confess,\nunprepared to receive so soon the dreadful Execution you have been\npleas'd to appoint me; and therefore beseech you to think me an Object\nof your Mercy.\n'For God Sake, good Sir, let the Oaths of three Christian Men weigh\nsomething with you, who are ready to depose, when you please to allow\nthem the Liberty, the Compulsions I lay under in committing those Acts,\nfor which I am doom'd to die.\n'I intreat you not to let me fall a Sacrifice to the Envy and ungodly\nRage of some few Men, who, not being yet satisfied with Blood, feign to\nbelieve, that if I had the Happiness of a longer Life in this World, I\nshould still employ it in a wicked Manner; which, to remove that and all\nother Doubts with your Honour, I heartily beseech you'll permit me to\nlive, and I'll voluntarily put it ever out of my Power, by separating\nall my Limbs from my Body, only reserving the Use of my Tongue, to call\ncontinually on, and pray to the Lord, my God, and mourn all my Days in\nSack-cloth and Ashes to work out confident Hopes of my Salvation, at\nthat great and dreadful Day, when all righteous Souls shall receive\ntheir just Rewards: And to render your Honour a further Assurance of\nbeing incapable to prejudice any of my Fellow-Christians, if I was so\nwickedly bent; I humbly beg you will (as a Punishment of my Sins for my\npoor Soul's Sake) indent me a menial Servant to your Honour and this\nGovernment, during my Life, and send me up to the farthest Inland\nGarrison or Settlement in the Country, or any otherways you'll be\npleased to dispose of me; and likewise that you'll receive the\nWillingness of my Friends to be bound for my good Behaviour, and\nconstant Attendance to your Commands.\n'I once more beg for the Lord's Sake, dear Sir, that as you are a\nChristian, you will be so charitable to have Mercy and Compassion on my\nmiserable Soul, but too newly awaked from an Habit of Sin, to entertain\nso confident Hopes and Assurance of its being received into the Arms of\nmy blessed Jesus, as is necessary to reconcile me to so speedy a Death;\nwherefore, as my Life, Blood, Reputation of my Family, and future happy\nState lies entirely at your Disposal; I implore you to consider me with\na christian and charitable Heart, and determine mercifully of me, that I\nmay ever acknowledge and esteem you next to God my Saviour; and oblige\nme ever to pray, that our heavenly Father will also forgive your\nTrespasses.\n'Now the God of Peace, that brought again from the Dead our Lord Jesus,\nthat great Shepherd of the Sheep, thro' the Blood of the everlasting\nCovenant, make you perfect in every good Work to do his Will, working in\nyou that which is well pleasing in his Sight, through Jesus Christ, to\nwhom be Glory for ever and ever, is the hearty Prayer of\nThe History of the Pyrates being an Undertaking of great Length and\nVariety, the Author readily owns, that in some Parts, he may not be so\nexact, as they who have been occasionally upon the Spot when these\nparticular Incidents have happen'd. But in any Circumstances he has\nomitted or misrepresented, he applies to such Persons for better\nInformation; which Correction or Addition (as several others have been)\nshall be inserted as a Supplement to the whole.\nAnd he hereby acknowledges himself much obliged to the worthy Gentleman\nwho sent the following Letter, for his kind Assistance, in promoting his\nchief Design, which is to render as compleat as possible, a Work of so\ndifficult a Nature.\n        _To Mr._ Johnson, _Author of the Lives of the Pyrates_.\nSIR,\nIn perusing your Book, Entitled, _A General History of the Robberies and\nMurders of the most notorious Pyrates_, &c. I find there an Account of\nthe taking Captain _Worley_ and his Crew, in many Particulars of which\nyou have been very much misinformed, and consequently the Publick is so;\nthat Pyrate having been taken off the Bar of _Charles Town_ in _South\nCarolina_ by Col. _Robert Johnson_, the then Governor, in Person; to\nwhom to do Justice, I have sent you the following Account of the taking\nhim; for, as to his Beginning and Rise, I cannot say but your Account\nmay be right, as you have set it forth in your aforesaid Book.\nIn _October_, 1718, Governor _Johnson_ was informed, that there was a\nPyrate Ship off the Bar of _Charles Town_, commanded by one _Moody_,\ncarrying 50 Guns, and near 200 Men, that he had taken two Ships bound to\nthat Port from _New England_, and was come to an Anchor with them to the\nSouthward of the Bar; whereupon, he called his Council and the principal\nGentlemen of the Place, and proposed to them, to fit out a proper Force\nto go out and attack him, fearing he might lie there some Time, as\n_Thatch_ and _Vane_ had done before, and annoy the Trade; which they\nunanimously agreeing, and there being, at that Time, 14 or 15 Ships in\nthe Harbour, he impress'd the _Mediterranean_ Gally, _Arthur Loan_, and\nthe King _William_, _John Watkinson_, Commanders; and two Sloops, one of\nwhich was the _Revenge_, taken from _Stede Bonnet_, the Pyrate, and\nanother from _Philadelphia_; the former, Captain _John Masters_\ncommanded, and the latter, Captain _Fayrer Hall_; which two Captains had\nlately commanded the same Sloops that took _Bonnet_ at _Cape Fear_,\nabout a Month before. On board the _Mediterranean_ was put 24 Guns, and\n30 on Board the King _William_; the _Revenge_ Sloop had 8, and the other\nSloop 6 Guns; and being thus equipp'd, the Governor issued a\nProclamation, to encourage Voluntiers to go on Board, promising 'em all\nthe Booty to be shar'd among them, and that he himself would go in\nPerson with 'em; but the Ships and Sloops before-mentioned being\nimpress'd, it was natural for the Commanders to desire some Assurance of\nSatisfaction to be made the Owners, in Case of a Misfortune; so that the\nGovernor found it necessary to call the General Assembly of the\nProvince, without whom it was impossible for him to give them the\nSatisfaction they desired, and who, without any Hesitation, pass'd a\nVote, that they would pay for the said Vessels, in Case they were lost,\naccording to an Appraisement then made of them, and what other Expences\naccrued to carry on this necessary Expedition. This Way of Proceeding\ntook up a Week's Time, during which, the Governor ordered Scout Boats to\nply up and down the River, as well to guard the Port from any Attempts\nthe Pyrates might make to Land, as to hinder them from having Advice of\nwhat was doing, and also laid an Embargo on the Shipping.\nAbout three Days before the Governor sail'd, there appear'd off the Barr\na Ship, and a Sloop, who came to an Anchor, and made a Signal for a\nPilot; but they being suppos'd to be _Moody_, and a Sloop that had\njoin'd him (as it was said he expected) no Pilot was permitted to go\nnear them, and thus they rid for four Days, once or twice attempting to\nsend their Boat on Shore, to an Island, call'd, _Suilivants_ Island (as\nthey afterwards confess'd) to fetch Water, of which they were in great\nWant; but they were prevented by the Scout Boats before-mentioned: And,\nfor Want of which, they were obliged to continue in the same Station, in\nhopes some Ship would be coming in or going out, to relieve their\nNecessities, they being very short also of Provisions.\nAnd now all Things being ready, and about Three hundred Men on Board the\nfour Vessels, the Governor thought himself a Match for _Moody_ in his 50\nGun Ship, although he should be, as they thought he was, join'd by a\nSloop: And therefore, he sail'd with his Fleet below _Johnson_'s Fort\nover Night, and the next Morning by Break of Day, weigh'd Anchor, and by\nEight in the Morning, they were over the Bar.\nThe Pyrate Sloop immediately slipt her Cable, hoisted a black Flag, and\nstood to get between the Bar and the Governor's Ships, to prevent their\ngoing in again, as they expected they would have done; and in a small\nTime after, the Pyrate Ship also hoisted a black Flag, and made Sail\nafter the Sloop; during all this Time, the Men on Board the Governor's\nVessels did not appear, nor was there any Shew of Guns, until they came\nwithin half Gun-shot; when the Governor hoisted a Flag at the\nMain-top-mast Head of the _Mediterranean_, they all flung out their\nGuns, and giving them their Broad-sides, the Pyrates immediately run,\nwhereupon, the Governor ordered the two Sloops after the Pyrate Sloop,\nwho stood in towards the Shore, while himself and the King _William_\nfollowed the Ship who stood the contrary Way to Sea. She seemed to have\nmany Ports, and very full of Men, tho' she had fir'd but from two Guns,\nwhich occasion'd no small Wonder on Board the Governor, why she had not\nflung open her Ports, and made Use of more Guns, she being imagined all\nthis while to be _Moody_.\nThe Sloop, which proved to be _Worley_, was attacked by the two Sloops\nso warmly, that the Men run into the Hold, all except _Worley_ himself\nand some few others, who were killed on the Deck; and being boarded,\nthey took her within Sight of _Charles Town_: The People seeing the\nAction from the Tops of their Houses, and the Masts of the Ships in the\nHarbour, where they had placed themselves for that Purpose; but it was\nThree in the Afternoon before the Governor and the King _William_ came\nup with the Ship, who, during the Chase, had taken down her Flagg, and\nwrapping the small Arms in it, had thrown them over-board; and also\nflung over her Boat and what other Things they thought would lighten\nher, but all would not do: The King _William_ came first up with her,\nand firing his Chase Guns, killed several of the People on board, and\nthey immediately struck; when, to the no small Surprize of the Governor\nand his Company, there appeared near as many Women on board as Men, who\nwere not a few neither. The Ship proving to be the _Eagle_, bound from\n_London_ to _Virginia_, with Convicts; but had been taken by _Worley_\noff the _Cape_ of _Virginia_, and had upwards of 100 Men and 30 Women on\nboard. Many of the Men had taken on with the Pyrates, and as such, found\nin _Carolina_ the Fate they had deserved at home, being hang'd at\n_Charles Town_; the virtuous Ladies were designed to have been landed on\none of the uninhabited _Bahama_ Islands, where there was a proper Port\nfor these Rovers to put in, at any Time, to refresh themselves, after\nthe Fatigue of the Sea. And thus a most hopeful Colony would have\ncommenced, if they had had but Provisions and Water sufficient to have\ncarried them to Sea; but their Fate kept them so long before the Port of\n_Charles Town_, until they were destroyed, and an End put to their\nwicked Lives, in the Manner before-mentioned.\nNotwithstanding all the Governor's Care, that no Advice should be given\n_Moody_ of the Preparations making for him, some People from the Shore\nwere so wicked, as to go off in the Night and give him a particular\nAccount of the Ships, Sloops, and Men, that were preparing to go out\nagainst him; whereupon, he having taken (about three Days before the\nGovernor went) the _Minerva_, Captain _Smyter_, from the _Maderas_,\nladen with Wine, he immediately weighed Anchor and took his Prize with\nhim, and stood out above one hundred Leagues to Sea, where he plundered\nher, and named to the Master not only the Vessels, but some of the very\nPersons were coming out to attack him, by which Advice he escaped, and\n_Worley_ coming just as the other was gone, met the Fate designed for\n_Moody_; who having taken out most of the Wine from on board the\n_Minerva_, and plundered her, he discharged, and sail'd for\n_Providence_, and soon after took the Benefit of his Majesty's Royal\nProclamation.\nThe Governor kept the Ships and Vessels in sailing Order some Time, in\nHopes _Moody_ might have come off the Bar again; but being informed by\nthe _Minerva_ he was sailed for _Providence_, he discharged them, giving\nthe small Booty taken to the Men who were the Captors, as he had\npromised them.\nYour Account of the taking of _Bonnet_ is pretty just, which was done by\nGovernor _Johnson_'s Direction and Commission also.\nSIR,\nThough I can contribute nothing to your Second Volume of Pyrates you\nhave (as I hear) in Hand, yet, by your Character of Veracity, I perswade\nmy self I shall oblige you, in rectifying a Mistake you made in your\nfirst. In the Life of Captain _Martel_ you say, the _Greyhound_ Galley\nof _London_, which I then commanded, fell into the Hands of that Pyrate,\nwho plunder'd her of some Gold Dust, Elephants Teeth, and 40 Slaves. The\nlatter Part of this is just, except the Elephants Teeth, of which I\nlost, I think, none; but you are misled in the former, for _Martel_'s\nCompany had deposed him, on Account, as they themselves told me, of his\nCruelty; had given him, and those who were willing to follow his\nFortunes, a Sloop, and, sending him away, chose a more righteous in his\nPlace, whose Name was _Kennedy_, by Descent an _Irishman_, by Birth a\n_Spaniard_ of _Cuba_, and a Hunter. On my coming on Board the Pyrate,\nCaptain _Saunders_ of the _Weymouth_, who was taken the Day before, was\nthe first Man who spoke to me, telling me, he was sorry for my\nMisfortune. I took him for the Commander of the Pyrate; but I soon found\nmy Mistake, by his carrying me aft to the Captain, who bid me welcome,\nand drank to me in a Can of Wine; and some of the Crew told me, that it\nwas happy for me I did not fall into the Hands of their late Captain;\nfor a Ship with _Madera_ Wine thought fit to give them the Trouble to\nlose some Time, and fire a couple of Chase-Guns before she shorten'd\nSail, which Captain _Martel_ took for so great an Affront, that all the\nCompany was cut off. But I shall now give you the Particulars of my\nbeing taken. As I have said, I commanded the _Greyhound_ Galley, on\nboard of which I had 250 Slaves, bound from the Coast of _Guiney_ to\n_Jamaica_, and consign'd to Messieurs _Feak_ and _Aldcroft_, on Account\nof Mr. _Bignell_ and others. On the 16th of _October_ 1716, about 10\nLeagues S. S. W. from the Island of _Monna_, in the grey of the Morning,\nmy second Mate came down and acquainted me, that a Ship was almost on\nboard us. We then steer'd about W. half South, and the Pyrate stood to\nthe S. E. His coming very near us made us edge away from him, and call\nout to desire he would keep his Luff, or he would be on board us. No\nAnswer was given, and not a Soul appear'd on his Decks, but the Man at\nthe Helm, and about two more; however the _Greyhound_ got clear, and\ncrowded, as usual, for a Market. As soon as the Pyrate got into our\nWake, she wore, and made all the Sail she could, by which Means she soon\ncame up with us (for she was clean, and we foul) and clewing up her\nSprit-Sail, fir'd a Gun with Shot, and at the same Time let fly her\nJack, Ensign and Pendant, in which was the Figure of a Man, with a Sword\nin his Hand, and an Hour-Glass before him, with a Death's Head and\nBones. In the Jack and Pendant were only the Head and Cross Bones. I did\nnot think fit to shorten Sail, which occasioned a second Shot from the\nPyrate, which went through our Main Top-Sail. Upon this I consulted my\nOfficers, and they advised the shortning Sail, as we were no Way in a\nCapacity to make any Defence. I followed their Advice, and was order'd\non board the Pyrate, who ask'd me, pretty civily, the usual Questions,\nWhence I came? Whether bound? _&c._ My second Mate, and some of my Men,\nwere soon shifted into the Pyrate, with 40 of the best Men Slaves; the\nWomen Slaves they diverted themselves with, and took off the Irons from\nall the Negroes I had on board. The Captain asked me if I had no Gold? I\nassured him I had not; and, indeed, I had no more than 100 Ounces,\nwhich, before I went on board the Pyrate, my Carpenter had let into the\nCeiling of the great Cabbin. He answer'd only, it was very strange that\nI should take no Gold on the Coast. I answer'd, I had taken a\nconsiderable Quantity, but as I took it in one Place, I parted with it\nin another; which, if he would inspect my Books, he would find exactly\nas I said. We had no more Discourse then on the Subject, but a while\nafter, I and my Mate were sent for into the great Cabbin, where the\nCouncil sat. Immediately cock'd Pistols were clapp'd to our Breasts, and\nwe were threaten'd with Death, in Case we did not confess what Gold we\nhad on board, and where it was hid. I deny'd that we had any, and\ndesir'd he would satisfy himself of the Truth, by examining my Books.\nThe Mate answer'd, he knew nothing of my Dealings on the Coasts, and\ntherefore could give no Answer. He knew, indeed, I had received Gold on\nthe Coast, as he had seen it brought on board; but he had seen a\nconsiderable Quantity carry'd out of the Ship. Upon this, we were\norder'd to withdraw, and nothing more was said; but I hearing their\nDesign was to torture me with lighted Matches between my Fingers, I\nthought the Loss of the Use of my Hands would be but poorly compensated\nwith the saving 100 Ounces of Gold, and therefore desired to speak to\nthe Captain himself; to him I discover'd what I had, and where it was\nconcealed. He immediately sent his Boat on board the _Greyhound_, with\nmy Carpenter and half a dozen of his own Crew, who were so impatient to\nbe at the Gold, they made a meer Pincushion of the Fellow's Breech,\ncontinually pricking his Backside with their Swords, to hasten him. My\nLodging was in the Hold, where one _Taffier_, the Gunner, came down to\nme, and snapp'd a Pistol at my Breast, which he fired afterwards upon\nDeck; and the same Man one Day, as I was on the Quarter-Deck, struck me,\nin the Presence of his Captain, with his Cutlass, after having\nreproach'd me with my private Confession, and asking, if every Man there\nhad not as good and just Pretension to the Gold as the Captain. Whether\nit was by Accident or Design that he struck with the Flat of his\nCutlass, I know not, but the Blow knock'd me down, and depriv'd me of my\nSenses for some Time.\nCaptain _Kennedy_, who seem'd to have more Humanity than is commonly\nfound in Men of his Profession, resented this Treatment of me so far,\nthat he got into his Yawl, and put off from the Ship, swearing he would\nnot sail with Men who so barbarously abused their Prisoners. He,\nhowever, returned on board at their Perswasions, and on their Promise,\nthat nothing like it should happen for the future. The Night of the Day\nin which we were taken, the Pyrate came to an Anchor under the Island of\n_Savona_, where he kept us till the 20th, and then let us go in Company\nwith Captain _Saunders_, of the Ship _Weymouth_, from _Boston_, laden\nwith Fish and Lumber for _Jamaica_, at which Island we arrived and\nanchor'd at _Port Royal_ the 25th in the Morning.\nThe Pyrate, a little before I was taken, had met with two interloping\n_Dutch_ Men, supposed to be bound for the Main, who gave him a rough\nEntertainment, and made him glad to sheer off.\nThe _Weymouth_ had two Women Passengers on board; how they pass'd their\nTime I need not say; though, I fancy, as they had formerly made a Trip\nor two to the Bay, there was no Rape committed.\nNotwithstanding the melancholy Situation I was in, I could not refrain\nlaughing when I saw the Fellows who went on board the _Greyhound_,\nreturn to their own Ship; for they had, in rummaging my Cabbin, met with\na Leather Powder Bag and Puff, with which they had powder'd themselves\nfrom Head to Foot, walk'd the Decks with their Hats under their Arms,\nminced their Oaths, and affected all the Airs of a Beau, with an\nAukwardness would have forced a Smile from a Cynick.\nWhen I was permitted to return on board the _Greyhound_, and prosecute\nmy Voyage, I found all my Papers torn, and every Thing turn'd\ntopsy-turvy; but this was nothing to their leaving all my Negroes out of\nIrons, of whom I was more in fear than I had been of the Pyrates; for,\namong them, the Captain's Humanity protected us; but we could expect no\nQuarter from the Negroes should they rebel; and, in such Case, we had no\nProspect of quelling them, for the Pyrates had taken away all our Arms,\nand by opening a Cask of Knives, which they had scatter'd about the\nShip, they had armed the Negroes, one of whom had the Insolence to\ncollar and shake one of my Men. I therefore called my People aft, and\ntold them, our Security depended altogether on our Resolution; wherefore\narming selves with Handspikes, we drove the Negroes into the Hold, and\nafterwards calling them up one by one, we put on their Irons, which the\nPyrates had not taken with them, took away their Knives, and, by these\nMeans, arrived safely at our Port. If this Detail is of any Service to\nyou, I have my Ends. I hope, if you intend a third Volume, it may induce\nothers who have had the same Misfortune of falling into the Hands of\nPyrates, to assist you with their Minutes.\n_P.S._ Four of my Men took on with the Pyrates, though I remember the\nNames of two only, _Bryant Ryley_, _John Hammond_.\n                       _The TRIAL of the_ PYRATES\nSIR,\nAs I am credibly informed you intend to oblige the Publick with a Second\nVolume of _The Lives and Actions of the Pyrates_, and are now actually\ncollecting Matter; I was of Opinion, that the sending you some Minutes I\nhave by me, which are authentick, would be no unacceptable Office; and I\nhope, the Gentleman who was then Governor of the _Bahama Islands_, will\nnot take the Publication of the following Tryals in ill Part, for I am\ninformed he is in Town. Before I would send them to you, I examined very\nthoroughly whether he could have any Ground to be offended; but, as I\nfind them Marks of his Prudence and Resolution, and that in the\nCondemnation and Execution of the Pyrates, he had a just Regard to the\npublick Good, and was not to be deterr'd from vigorously pursuing it, in\nCircumstances which would have intimidated many brave Men: I think the\nPublication will do him both Honour and Justice, and therefore shall\nmake no Apology, but come to the Point.\n      Trial and Condemnation of the Pyrates, who were executed at\n     _Providence_, His Excellency _Woodes Rogers_, Esq; being then\n       Captain General, Governor, and Vice-Admiral of the _Bahama\nAt a private Consultation, held on _Friday_ the 28th of _November_,\n1718, at the _Secretary_'s Office in the City of _Nassau_.\nNew Providence _ss._\nThe Governor acquainting us, That Captain _Cockrem_ and Captain\n_Hornigold_ have, by Virtue of a Commission, issued and directed to them\nfor the apprehending of certain Pyrates, had the Success to bring ten of\nthem Prisoners to this Part, who were now confined by an especial\n_Mittimus_ on board the Ship _Delicia_; therefore, desired we might\nagree to join in one Opinion concerning the said Prisoners ...... which\nbeing maturely debated and considered, and that as the necessary Guards\nset on the Prisoners for Want of a Goal, very much fatigued both the\nSoldiers and Seamen, who equally guarded the Fort and Ship; and as many\nas could be spar'd, daily work'd on the Fortifications, and did the Duty\nof Centinels at Night, thereby harrassing our small Numbers of Men, and\nhindering the publick Work. And there being suspected Persons still\nremaining in these Islands, who may give frequent Intelligence of our\nCondition; should any Fear be shewn on our Part, it might animate\nseveral now here, to invite the Pyrates without, to attempt the Rescue\nof these in Custody: Therefore, we do believe it most for the publick\nGood, when the Fort is in a better State of Defence, and Captain\n_Beauchamps_ and _Burgis_, with about 60 Soldiers and Seamen, at this\ntime gone to prevent the Designs of _Vane_ the Pyrate, are returned to\nstrengthen us: The Governor ought then as soon as possible\n(notwithstanding he has made known to us, that he has no direct\nCommission for Trial of Pyrates; yet according to the Intent and Meaning\nof the sixth Article of the Governor's Instructions, which, in this\nCase, refers to the fourth Article in those given to the Governor of\n_Jamaica_, a Copy of whose Instructions he has for his Directions to\ngovern himself by, as near as the Circumstances of the Place will admit.\nThis corroborated with the Power in the Governor's Commission of\nGovernor, Captain General, and Vice-Admiral of the _Bahama Islands_,\nshew the Intention of his Majesty, for such Authority here; and having\nan Account that the Proprietory Government of _Carolina_ had executed 22\nPyrates, lately carried in there, which together with the provoking ill\nExample and Behaviour of these Prisoners, who have all accepted his\nMajesty's Act of Grace, and afterwards turned Pyrates again, and\nconsidering it would be a great Risque and Trouble to send so many to\n_Great Britain_, and much greater to keep them Prisoners here; we are\nentirely of Opinion, his Majesty will approve of the Necessity for the\nGovernor's judicial Proceeding with these Pyrates, by a Trial in the\nbest Manner we can according to Law; and do verily believe the speediest\nExecution for those who shall be found guilty, will conduce most to the\nWelfare of this Government.\n_N. B._ Thus this stands in the Council-Book, the Governor's Secretary\nis answerable for Want of Connexion, or the Secretary of the Islands;\nfor I cannot find what these Words can refer to, _the Governor ought\nthen as soon as possible_, what ought he? But may be, it is an Error in\nmy Friend, who himself brought over this Copy, written in his own Hand,\nwhich with the following, I found among his Papers after his Decease.\n    His Excellency _Woodes Rogers_, Esq; Captain-General, Governor,\n               and Vice-Admiral of the _Bahama Islands_.\n     To _William Fairfax_, Esq; Captain _Robert Beauchamps_, _Tho.\n      Walker_, Esq; Capt. _Wingate Gale_, _Nathaniel Taylor_, Esq;\n           Capt. _Josias Burgiss_, and Capt. _Peter Courant_.\n_Providence_, ss.\n'By Virtue of a Commission from his most sacred Majesty King _George_,\nKing of _Great-Britain_, _&c._ to be Governor, _&c._ of these Islands,\nthereby empowering me to authorize, commissionate, and constitute all\nJudges, Justices and Magistrates in these Islands, _&c._ as also by\nVirtue of my Commission, to be Vice-Admiral of these Islands, have Power\nand Authority to authorize and empower, constitute and commissionate,\nproper Judges and Commissioners, for the trying, determining, adjudging,\nand condemning, of all or any Pyrate or Pyrates taken, apprehended, and\nbrought into this Government; and in Confidence of the Loyalty,\nPrudence, and Integrity of you the aforesaid _William Fairfax_, Esq;\nCaptain _Robert Beauchamps_, _Thomas Walker_, Esq; Captain _Wingate\nGale_, _Nathaniel Taylor_, Esq; Captain _Josias Burgiss_, and Captain\n_Peter Courant_, I do by Virtue of these Presents, authorize,\ncommissionate, and appoint you Deputy, Judges, and Commissioners of the\nsaid Especial Court, by these Presents erected and appointed to be, and\nset in the City of _Nassau_, on _Tuesday_ the 9th of this Instant, to\nexamine, hear, try, judge, determine, and condemn, all such Pyrate or\nPyrates who are now in Custody, and to be brought before the said Court,\nto be tryed for the Offences of Pyracy by them lately committed in and\nabout these Islands, and to proceed as my Assistants, and as\nCommissioners aforesaid, according to the Laws of _England_, and Rules\nof the said Court in such Cases; and for your so doing, this shall be\nyour sufficient Commission and Authority.\nGiven under my Hand and Seal at _Nassau_, this fifth Day of _December_,\n_Anno Regni quinto_ Georgii _Regis_ Magn\u00e6 Britanni\u00e6, _&c._ _Annoq_;\n_Domini_, 1718.\n_New Providence_, ss. Chief of the _Bahama Islands_.\nAt an especial Admiralty Sessions, held in his Majesty's Guard-Room in\nthe City of _Nassau_, on _Tuesday_ the 9th, and _Wednesday_ the 10th of\n_December_, 1718.\nBefore his Excellency _Woodes Rogers_, Esq; Governor, and Vice-Admiral,\n   _Will. Fairfax_, Esq; Judge of the _Admiralty_.\n   _Robert Beauchamp_, Esq;\n   _Thomas Walker_, Esq;\n   Captain _Wingate Gale_.\n   _Nathaniel Taylor_, Esq;\n   Captain _Josias Burgiss_.\n   Captain _Peter Courant_.\nProclamation being made as usual, the Register opened and read the\nGovernor's especial Commission, for erecting this Court according to the\nIntent and Meaning of a late Act of Parliament, Entitled, _An Act for\nthe more effectual Suppression of Pyracy_, by Virtue of which said\nCommission, the seven afore-named Commissioners are appointed Assistant\nJudges, for the hearing, trying, judging, and condemning the several\nPersons now in Custody, who stand committed for Mutiny, Felony, and\nPyracy.\nProclamation being again made, that all Persons concern'd or summon'd,\nand required to appear at this Court, do give their due Attendance.\nOrdered, That the Prisoners be brought to the Bar, which being done,\nthey were called by their respective Names, viz. _John Augur_, _Will.\nCunningham_, _John Hipps_, _Dennis Mackarthy_, _George Rounsivel_,\n_Will. Dowling_, _Will. Lewis_, _Thomas Morris_, _George Bendall_, and\n_Will. Ling_.\nOrdered, That the afore-named Prisoners, now at the Bar, do all hold up\ntheir Hands.\nOrdered, That the Accusation against the Prisoners be read, which was as\nfollows.\n_New Providence_, ss.\nThe Articles and Accusations against _John Augur_, late Master of the\nSloop _Mary_, of _Providence_; _William Cunningham_, Gunner and Mariner,\non board the Schooner, called the _Batchelors Adventure_; _Henry White_,\nMaster, _John Hipps_, Boatswain and Mariner, on board the Sloop\n_Lancaster_; _William Greenaway_, Master, _Dennis Mackarthy_, Mariner,\non board the _Scooner_, _William Dowling_, Mariner, on board the said\n_Scooner_; _William Lewis_, Mariner, on board the Sloop _Mary_; _Tho.\nMorris_, Mariner, on board the said _Scooner_; _George Bendall_,\nMariner, on board the said Sloop _Lancaster_, and _William Ling_,\nMariner, on board the said _Scooner_.\nYou the said _John Augur_, _Will. Cunningham_, _John Hipps_, _Dennis\nMackarthy_, _George Rounsivel_, _William Dowling_, _William Lewis_,\n_Thomas Morris_, _George Bendall_, and _William Ling_, having all of you\nlately received the Benefit of his Majesty's most gracious Pardon, for\nyour former Offences and Acts of Robbery and Pyracy, and having since\ntaken the Oaths of Allegiance to his most sacred Majesty King _George_,\nand thereupon Trust has been reposed in you the said _John Augur_, and\nin the others of you, lawful Employments been bestow'd to divert you all\nfrom your former and unlawful Courses of Life, and to enable and support\nyou all in just and lawful Ways of Living; and you not having the Fear\nof God before your Eyes, nor any Regard to your Oaths of Allegiance\ntaken to your Sovereign, nor to the Performance of Loyalty, Truth, and\nJustice: But, being instigated and deluded by the Devil, to return to\nyour former unlawful evil Courses, of Robbery and Pyracy, and that you\n_John Augur_, _Will. Cunningham_, _John Hipps_, _Dennis Mackarthy_,\n_George Rounsivel_, _Will. Dowling_, _Will. Lewis_, _Tho. Morris_, _Geo.\nBendall_, and _Will. Ling_, late Master and Mariners aforesaid, did on\nthe 6th Day of _October_ last, about Seven in that Evening, in the 5th\nYear of the Reign of our Sovereign Lord _George_, by the Grace of God,\nKing of _Great Britain_, &c. plot and combine together, at a desolate\nIsland, called _Green Key_, within the Jurisdiction of this\nVice-Admiralty, to mutiny and feloniously and pyratically steal, take,\nand carry away, from the Commanders and Owners of the afore-named\nVessels, the said Sloops and Cargoes, Tackle, Apparel, and Furniture, to\nthe Value of above 900 l. current Money of these Islands, and by Force\ncause to be put ashore on the said desolate Island, one Mr. _James\nKerr_, Merchant, and sundry others with him; and the said _John Augur_,\nas then Commander of one of the said Sloops, did proceed as Commander of\nthe said Pyrates from the said Island of _Green Key_ to _Exuma_,\nwhereby, by Virtue of a Commission, directed to Captain _John Cockrem_\nand Captain _Benjamin Hornigold_, you the said _John Augur_, and the\nrest of your pyratical Company, were there taken and apprehended as\nPyrates, and thereupon brought into this Port, to be proceeded against\naccording to Law.\nThe Prisoners holding up their Hands, and the Accusation being read, all\nthe said Prisoners were asked by the Register, Whether Guilty, or, Not\nGuilty; and they pleaded Not Guilty.\nOrdered, That the Evidence for the King be severally sworn and examined.\nThe Examination of _James Kerr_, Gent. upon Oath saith, That he being\nSupercargo in Trust, and outward bound from _Providence_, a trading\nVoyage in the Sloop _Mary_, and in about two Days Sail from the said\nIsland, did arrive at _Green Key_ with two other Vessels in Company,\nbound also on the said trading Account, where, on the 6th of _October_\nlast, one _Phineas Bunce_, one of the said Vessel's Company, and the\nhead Mutineer of the Pyrates now at the Bar, but since deceas'd, did\nthen and there come on board the said Sloop _Mary_, and very vilely\ntreat this Deponent, and in the Evening did turn the Deponent ashore\nupon the said _Green Key_, a desolate Island; and this Deponent farther\nsaith, that _Dennis Mackarthy_, one of the Prisoners now at the Bar, was\nthe only Person of all the said Pyrates and Mutineers who shew'd this\nDeponent any civil Treatment, and that the said _Mackarthy_ did not\nreflect on the King and Government as others of them now at the Bar did,\nin this Deponent's Hearing.\nThe Examination of Captain _William Greenaway_ upon Oath saith, That on\nthe 6th of _October_ last _John Hipps_, one of the Prisoners now at the\nBar, with some others of them, came on board the Vessel under this\nDeponent's Command, and then riding at _Green Key_, with Pretensions of\ngetting Tobacco, and told this Deponent, that Mr. _Kerr_ had a Mind to\nsail that Night; and this Deponent having order'd his Boat to go on\nboard the Scooner, then belonging to the said Company, to give them\nNotice of the said _Kerr_'s Design; in which Interim came on board _John\nAugur_ and _George Rounsivel_, both Prisoners now at the Bar, _James\nMatthews_ and _John Johnson_, who wanted this Deponent to go on board\nthe Scooner, which he did, where _Phineas Bunce_, since dead, met this\nDeponent at the Side; upon which, this Deponent demanded of the said\n_Bunce_, the Reason he did not prepare for sailing, as the rest did.\nWhereupon _Bunce_, the head Mutineer, asked this Deponent to walk down\ninto the Cabbin, and, when there, _Bunce_ asked him to sit down by him;\nwhereupon the said _Bunce_ told this Deponent, he was his Prisoner; upon\nwhich, _Dennis Macarthey_, now Prisoner at the Bar, presented a Pistol\nat this Deponent's Breast, and told him, if he spoke a Word, he, this\nDeponent, was a dead Man; and the said _Phineas Bunce_ told this\nDeponent, he had best be easy, for that the better Part of the People\nbelonging to the Sloop _Mary_ was on his Side, as were some of the\nPeople he had with him. And then the said _Phineas Bunce_, with others,\nthe Mutineers, went on board the Sloop _Mary_, and took her. But this\nDeponent cannot particularize the Names of the Men who were with\n_Bunce_, being Night-time. Afterwards the said _Bunce_, and the\nPrisoners now at the Bar, except _John Hipps_, put Mr. _James Kerr_,\n_Richard Turnly_, _Thomas Rich_, _John Taylor_, and _John Cox_, all\nashore at _Green Key_, a desolate Island, and had the Boat ready\nprepared to carry this Deponent ashore also; but _Bunce_ hereupon\ndeclared, that this Deponent, being a _Bermudian_, would swim aboard\nagain, and therefore confin'd this Deponent a Prisoner, and plundered\nhis Vessel, leaving him not wherewithal to proceed any where, but a\nsmall Quantity of Flower and Beef, obliging this Deponent not to sail\nfrom _Green Key_ in 24 Hours after his Departure; but this Deponent did\nsail the next Morning for _Providence_, and, in his Way, fell in Sight\nof the said Mutineers and Pyrates, of whom the Prisoners at the Bar were\nsome, who gave Chase. Whereupon this Deponent went back to _Green Key_,\nand took to the Shore, where he saw the Pyrates and said Mutineers cut\naway the Mast of this Deponent's Vessel, and then were coming on Shore,\nas this Deponent apprehended, to take his Person. Whereupon this\nDeponent made his Escape to hide himself from them upon the said _Key_.\nThen the People who were left on board this Deponent's Vessel, coming\nashore, told this Deponent, that the Pyrates had scuttled her, turn'd\nthe Yawl adrift, and from _Green Key_ the said Pyrates proceeded to\n_Stocking_ Island, where meeting the _Spaniards_, the Pyrates were\nthemselves taken, and put ashore.\nThe Examination of _John Taylor_ upon Oath saith, That all the Prisoners\nat the Bar, except _John Hipps_, did join with _Bunce_, the Mutineer;\nand that _Bunce_ and two more, whom the Deponent knew not, being Night,\ntook the Vessel he belong'd to; and further saith, That _John Hipps_ was\nat first confined with the said _Greenaway_ by _Bunce_.\nThe Examination of _Richard Turnly_ upon Oath saith, That on the 6th of\n_October_ last, _Bunce_ the head Mutineer and two others, naming\n_William Dowling_ and _Thomas Morris_, Prisoners at the Bar, did come on\nboard the Sloop _Mary_ at _Green Key_, and ask'd Mr. _Kerr_ and this\nDeponent for a Bottle of Beer, which was given them, and afterwards a\nSecond, and they commanded a third; and then with the Men, belonging to\nthe said Sloop _Mary_, took up Arms, and took Mr. _Kerr_, _Thomas Cox_,\nand this Deponent Prisoners, and forced them to go on Shore at _Green\nKey_, a desolate Island, about 25 Leagues distant from _Providence_.\nThe Examination of _John Cox_ upon Oath saith, That he being on board\nthe Sloop _Mary_, of which _John Augur_ went out of _Providence_ Master:\nThe said _John Augur_ came on board his said Sloop in the Evening of the\n6th Day of _October_ last, and lay down as if he designed to sleep. Soon\nafter, Capt. _Greenaway_, Master of the Sloop _Lancaster_, came on\nboard, and ask'd the said _Augur_, if he intended to set Sail? He\nanswer'd, he could not tell; thereupon Captain _Greenaway_ went on board\nthe Scooner, call'd the _Batchelor's Adventure_, _Henry White_, Master,\nand in about half an Hour afterwards, came on board another Boat with\n_John Hipps_, _Greenaway_'s Boatswain, to enquire for Captain\n_Greenaway_; and in a little Time after, _Phineas Bunce_ came on board\nthe Sloop _Mary_ from the _Scooner_ with 2 or 3 Men more. _Bunce_ ask'd\nfor Captain _Augur_, and whether they had any Thing to drink, and coming\nto Mr. _Kerr_, ask'd him for a Bottle of Beer, which Mr. _Kerr_ gave\nhim; then the said _Bunce_ went into the Cabbin, and brought up a\nCutlash, and stood at the Cabbin-Door to drink, and swore that he was\nCaptain of that Vessel, and would be so, which made Captain _Augur_ ask\nhim his Meaning; but presently the said _Bunce_ and _Augur_ seem'd to be\ngood Friends, and _Bunce_ ask'd for another Bottle of Beer, then struck\nMr. _Kerr_ with a Cutlash on his Back, and turn'd him and others ashore;\nand this Deponent well knew all the several Prisoners at the Bar, except\n_Hipps_ the Boatswain, and that all the rest were Aiders, Assistants,\nand Abettors to the Mutiny, Felony, and Pyracy, committed upon the\nVessels and Cargoes at _Green Key_.\nThe Examination of _Thomas Rich_ upon Oath saith, That he knows the\nseveral Prisoners at the Bar; and that they all, except _Hipps_, were\nthe Actors of the Mutiny and Pyracy, committed upon the Vessels and\nCargoes at _Green Key_; and this Deponent was taken by them in the\n_Mary_ Sloop, and put ashore with Mr. _Kerr_ and the other Evidences for\nthe King.\nThe Examination of _Thomas Petty_ upon Oath saith, That he saw _Hipps_\nbeat by _Bunce_, and believes he was forced to go with him; and that\n_Bunce_ would have forc'd this Deponent also; but _Dennis Mackarthy_,\nPrisoner at the Bar, said if _Bunce_ forc'd the Deponent, he the said\nPrisoner would leave _Bunce_ and his Company.\nAnd then the Court adjourn'd till 3 a-Clock in the Afternoon.\nThe Court being met according to Adjournment, and all the Evidences for\nthe King being called and examined, then the Prisoners at the Bar were\nseverally called, to know what Defence each had to make, _viz._\n_John Augur_ being first called to make Defence for himself, saith no\nother than that he was in Liquor, and knew not of _Phineas Bunce_ his\nDesign, when the said _Bunce_ enter'd on board the Sloop _Mary_, whereof\nthe Prisoner was Master; but could call no Evidence to prove himself not\nguilty.\n_William Cunningham_ being next called and examined said, That he was\nasleep when _Bunce_ went on board the _Scooner_ (to which the Prisoner\nbelong'd) at _Green Key_, and that _Bunce_ brought the said Prisoner\nPunch, and told him, that he the Prisoner must either join him the said\n_Bunce_, or be put upon a _Moroon Key_, _alias_ a desolate Key.\n_John Hipps_, Prisoner, said in his Defence, that he did not in any wise\nenter with _Bunce_ and his Company; but went on board the aforesaid\n_Scooner_, to enquire for _William Greenaway_ his Captain, where he was\nimmediately confined by _Bunce_, together with _Greenaway_, and\nafterwards put on Shore with Mr. _Kerr_ and others, where _Bunce_ beat\nthe said Prisoner, and compell'd him at length to join _Bunce_, but\nnevertheless declared his Intention to leave the said _Bunce_ and\nCompany on the first Opportunity, and desired Mr. _Kerr_, Captain\n_Greenaway_, _Richard Turnly_, _Thomas Terrell_, _Benjamin Hutchins_,\n_John Taylor_, _John Janson_, _Thomas Petty_ and _David Meredith_, might\nbe examin'd for him.\nMr. _James Kerr_ being sworn as Evidence for the Prisoner declared, That\n_Bunce_ used much threatning Language against _John Hipps_, Prisoner,\nthat if he did not join him the said _Bunce_ and pyratical Company, and\ngo with them into a Boat, provided on Purpose to carry the Pyrates to\ntheir Rendezvous, _Hipps_ should repent the Refusal; and farther says,\nthat he saw or knew of no Blows given to compel the Prisoner to assist\nor join the said Pyrates, but that the Prisoner afterwards accepted the\nOffice and Command of Boatswain to the said pyratical Company.\nCaptain _Greenaway_ being sworn for the Prisoner says, that the Prisoner\nwent with him on board the _Scooner_, and was in the Cabbin with him,\nand made Prisoner with him on board the said _Scooner_, where the\nPrisoner made Proposal to the Deponent to surprize _Dennis Mackarthy_,\nPrisoner at the Bar, then a Centinel upon Deck, and throw the said\n_Mackarthy_ over-board; but the Deponent seeing no Probability of\nescaping the Rest, advised the Prisoner to keep his Mind to himself,\ntill he could have a better Opportunity; and farther saith, that the\nPrisoner was put ashore with Mr. _Kerr_, &c.\n_Richard Turnly_ being sworn for the Prisoner deposed, That to the best\nof his Knowledge and Remembrance, the Prisoner was forc'd to accept of\nany Duty the said _Bunce_ and Company put upon him, if the Command of\nWords be allowed by the Court sufficient to excuse him; but he never saw\n_Bunce_, or any of the rest of the Pyrates, use Blows to force him to\njoin them.\n_Thomas Terrell_, Inhabitant, being sworn, gave the Prisoner the\nCharacter of being an honest Man, who was recommended to him by _Thomas\nBowling_, Master of the Sloop _Sarah_, belonging to the said _Thomas\nTerrell_, that during a late Voyage perform'd to _Cuba_, about two\nMonths ago, there was a Mutiny suspected by _Thomas Bowling_, of which\nthe said _Bowling_ declared, that _John Hipps_ Prisoner, was not only\ninnocent, but believed a Suppressor of the said Mutiny; and farther\ndeclares, that _Thomas Bowling_ had acknowledged the Safety of the\nVessel to be much owing to _John Hipps_, Prisoner at the Bar.\n_Benjamin Hutchins_ being sworn for the Prisoner, and examined,\ndeclared, that the Prisoner after having been matriculated and seduced\nby _Bunce_ and his Accomplices, often complain'd to him the Deponent,\nthat he would desert them the first Opportunity, and shew'd his\nIntentions by many Tears shed, as Tokens of Sorrow for his late\nMisfortune.\n_John Taylor_ being examined upon Oath declared, that the Prisoner was\nconfined as a Person not trusted by _Bunce_ and his pyratical Company.\n_John Jansen_ being examined upon Oath, had nothing to declare for or\nagainst the Prisoner worth Notice.\n_Thomas Petty_ being sworn for the Prisoner declared, that _Bunce_\nthreatned the Prisoner, that if he would not consent to be of his\npyratical Company, he should be frequently beat; and also be put on the\nfirst _Moroon Key_, where he might not find Provision, Water, or any\nother Sustenance, which the Deponent thinks compell'd the Prisoner to\nproceed with _Bunce_ for his Safety.\n_David Meredith_ being also examined upon Oath declared, That when\n_Phineas Bunce_ first made Seizure of the Vessel, he particularly spoke\nto _Hipps_ the Prisoner, that if he would not take on in their Way, he\nthe said _Bunce_ would moroon him, upon some desolate Key or Island; and\nthe more to compel him, gave him several Blows with his Cutlash, and\nthinks the Prisoner was forced to join with _Bunce_, &c.\n_Dennis Mackarthy_ Prisoner being next called, and desiring that Mr.\n_Kerr_, Captain _Greenaway_, _John Taylor_, _Thomas Rich_, and _Thomas\nPetty_, might be admitted to give Evidence for him.\nMr. _Kerr_ being examined upon Oath declared, That _Mackarthy_,\nPrisoner, was as active as any other of the Prisoners in their pyratical\nDesigns, and has nothing more to speak in his Favour, than that the\nPrisoner treated him and all others that were of the Deponent's Company,\nwith more Civility than any others of the pyratical Crew did.\nCaptain _Greenaway_ being sworn for the Prisoner declared, That when\n_Bunce_ beat the said Deponent, the Prisoner said, that he would see who\nought to be Strikers amongst them for the future.\n_John Taylor_ being examined upon Oath declares, that the Prisoner\nshould say, that he would leave _Bunce_ and his Accomplices.\n_Thomas Rich_ being sworn declares, that he heard the Prisoner say, that\nsince he had begun, he thought himself obliged to go on with them,\nmeaning _Bunce_ and his pyratical Company.\n_Thomas Petty_ being also sworn declares, That after _Mackarthy_ had\nbeen an Accomplice of _Bunce_'s Pyracy, he heard the Prisoner say, he\nwas sorry for his Unadvisedness, which might bring great Troubles on his\npoor Wife, having a small Child.\n_George Rounsivel_, Prisoner, being next called, desired _Turnly_ to be\nEvidence for him; who being sworn, declared, That _Geo. Rounsivel_,\nafter having consented to be of _Bunce_'s pyratical Company, shew'd some\nToken of Sorrow, but withal said, that as he had begun, could not\nwithout Danger of Life, desert the Pyrates he had combined with.\n_William Dowling_, Prisoner, being next called, and desiring _Thomas\nPetty_ to be Evidence for him, he was sworn, and said, that he had very\nlittle to say for him, because he had seen the Prisoner as consenting to\ntheir pyratical Designs as any of the said Prisoners.\n_William Lewis_, Prisoner, being next called, had very little to say for\nhimself, otherwise than that one _David Meredith_ had heard him say, he\nwished to be at _John Cullemore_'s House to drink a Bottle of Beer,\nwhich _David Meredith_, being sworn as Evidence for the Prisoner, only\nconfirmed.\n_Thomas Morris_, Prisoner, being next called, had very little else to\nsay, than that he had the Fever and Ague when he was first commanded by\n_Bunce_ to join them, and desiring _Thomas Rich_ as Evidence, he was\nsworn, and declared, that the Prisoner, as much as he took Notice of\nhim, appeared as active as the most capable, and could not say, that the\nPrisoner ever relented.\n_George Bendall_, Prisoner, being next called, and desiring _Richard\nTurnly_ for Evidence, he was sworn, and declared, that the Prisoner was\ndesired to make his Escape, but was resolved to continue with the\nPyrates.\n_William Ling_, Prisoner, being next called, who having nothing to say\nfarther, than a Request that _Richard Turnly_ might give in Evidence for\nhim; he was sworn, and declared, that the Prisoner bore Arms, and was as\nresolved as any of the Pyrates.\nThen the Court adjourned till Ten a-Clock next Morning, being the 10th\nInstant.\nThe Court having met according to the Adjournment, and Proclamation\nmade, the Prisoners were again brought to the Bar, and severally ask'd,\nif they had considered of any farther Evidence or Defence they could\npropose.\nFirst, _John Augur_ had no more to offer, in his Justification than\nbefore.\nThe second, _William Cunningham_, the same as before.\nThe Third, _John Hipps_ having the same Question put, answer'd, that if\n_John Raddon_ and _Henry White_ had not been absent, they could have\ndeclared many Things in his Favour.\nThen the Court proposed to every Person, who was an Auditor of the\nTrial, that any might have Leave to declare upon Oath, any Thing they\nhad heard _John Raddon_ or _Henry White_ say in Behalf of _John Hipps_,\nPrisoner: Upon which, _Samuel Lawford_, Constable, appear'd, and being\nsworn, declared, That he heard _George Raddon_ say, that he should have\nbeen glad to have done the old Boatswain any Service, meaning _Hipps_,\nthe Prisoner at the Bar; for the said _Raddon_ had seen him cry for his\nhaving consented, tho' by Force, to join _Bunce_, &c. the Prisoner\nhaving also declared to _Raddon_, that he would fight each of the\nPyrates singly, if he could by that Means get clear of them. This\nDeponent farther said, that _Raddon_ told him, he firmly believed the\nPrisoner at the Bar would have escaped from the other Pyrates, as soon\nas he could have got an Opportunity.\nThe Fourth, _Dennis Mackarthy_, Prisoner, made some faint Excuse, and at\nlength desired Captain _Benjamin Hornigold_, as farther Evidence for\nhim; who being sworn, declared, That when he the said _Hornigold_ went\nto apprehend the Prisoners, who were on one of the _Exuma_ Keys, he the\nsaid Prisoner was one of the first taken, and seem'd to the said\n_Hornigold_ to throw himself, and to have Dependance, on the Mercy of\nthe Governor.\nThe Fifth, _George Rounsivel_, Prisoner, had no farther Plea to make.\nThe Sixth, _William Dowling_, Prisoner, only desired _Thomas Petty_ to\nbe again call'd, who being sworn, only declared, That he the Prisoner\nhad Offers made by the _Spaniards_ to go in their Service, but the\nPrisoner refused them.\nThe Seventh, _William Lewis_ desired _Richard Turnley_ might be again\ncalled, who being sworn, declared, That he the Deponent did not see the\nsaid Prisoner when the Sloop _Mary_ was first taken, but the Day after\nhe saw the Prisoner under Arms, as active as any one of the Pyrates.\nThe Eighth, _Thomas Morris_, Prisoner, had little more to say than\npretending that several Persons who were absent, would say something in\nhis Justification; but no one present declared any Thing in his Favour.\nThe Ninth, _George Bendall_, Prisoner, had nothing to plead for himself;\nbut desiring Mr. _Kerr_ for Evidence, he was sworn, and declared, That\nhe heard the Prisoner say, that he wish'd he had begun the Life sooner,\nfor he thought it a pleasant One, meaning that of a Pyrate; and farther\ndeposed, that the Prisoner reported, that he had once a strong\nInclination to have smother'd _John Graves_, Esq; his Majesty's\nCollector for the Islands, as he lay feeble in his Bed, whose Servant\nthe Prisoner was, but a short Time before he shipp'd himself for the\nintended Voyage, when he join'd the other Prisoners at the Bar in their\nMutiny and Pyracy.\n_David Meredith_ being also sworn, declared, That _Bunce_ did once beat\nthe Prisoner, who told him, that if _Bunce_, &c. beat him once more, he\nwould desert them the first Opportunity.\nThe Tenth, _William Ling_ had nothing farther to say for himself.\nThen the Prisoners were remanded to the Fort; after which, all Manner of\nPersons were commanded by Proclamation to withdraw.\nThen the Court summ'd up the Evidences for the King and the Prisoners,\nwhich being debated and considered, all the Prisoners, except _John\nHipps_, were unanimously voted guilty of their Indictment, and the\nRegister was ordered to draw up their Sentence. It was thought\nconvenient to respite the Judgment on _John Hipps_, Prisoner, till\n_Monday_ next; and the Court adjourn'd till Four this Afternoon, at\nwhich Time being met according to Adjournment, and Proclamation made,\nthe Prisoners were brought to the Bar. Then _John Hipps_ was remanded to\nthe Guardship in Irons, and all the rest asked, if they knew any Cause\nwhy Sentence of Death should not be pronounced against them? They had\nnothing more to say, but to desire some Length of Time for Repentance.\n                Then the Sentence was read, as follows:\nThe Court having duly considered of the Evidence which hath been given\nboth for and against you the said _John Augur_, _William Cunningham_,\n_Dennis Mackarthy_, _Geo. Rounsivel_, _Wm Dowling_, _Wm Lewis_, _Tho.\nMorris_, _Geo. Bendall_ and _Wm Ling_; and having also debated the\nseveral Circumstances of the Cases, it is adjudged, that you the said\n_John Augur_, _Wm Cunningham_, _Dennis Mackarthy_, _Geo. Rounsivel_, _Wm\nDowling_, _Wm Lewis_, _Tho. Morris_, _Geo. Bendall_ and _Wm Ling_, are\nguilty of the Mutiny, Felony, and Pyracy, wherewith you and every of you\nstand accused. And the Court doth accordingly pass Sentence, that you\nthe said _John Augur_, _Wm. Cunningham_, _Dennis Mackarthy_, _Geo.\nRounsivel_, _Wm. Dowling_, _Wm. Lewis_, _Tho. Morris_, _Geo. Bendall_\nand _Wm. Ling_, be carried to Prison from whence you came, and from\nthence to the Place of Execution, where you are to be hanged by the Neck\ntill you shall be dead, dead, dead; and God have Mercy on your Souls.\nGiven under our Hands this 10th Day of _October, Annoq; Dom._ 1718,\nsign'd\n   _Woodes Rogers_,\n   _Wm Fairfax_,\n   _Robert Beauchamp_,\n   _Thomas Walker_,\n   _Wingate Gale_,\n   _Nathaniel Taylor_,\n   _Josias Burgiss_,\n   _Peter Courant_.\nAfter Sentence of Death pass'd upon the Prisoners, the Governor, as\nPresident of the Court, appointed their Execution to be at Ten a-Clock\non _Friday_ next in the Morning being the 12th Instant.\nWhereupon the Prisoners pray'd for longer Time to repent and prepare for\nDeath; but the Governor told them, that from the Time of their being\napprehended, which was on the 15th of _November_, they ought to have\naccounted themselves as condemn'd by the Laws of all Nations, which was\nonly sealed now; and that the securing them hitherto, and the Favour\nthat the Court had allowed them in making as long a Defence as they\ncould, wholly took up that Time, which the Affairs of the Settlement\nrequired in working at the Fortifications; besides the Fatigue thereby\noccasion'd to the whole Garrison in the necessary Guards, set over them\nby the Want of a Goal, and the Garrison having been very much lessened\nby Death and Sickness since his Arrival; also that he was obliged to\nemploy all his People to assist in mounting the great Guns, and in\nfinishing the present Works, with all possible Dispatch, because of the\nexpected War with _Spain_; and there being many more Pyrates amongst\nthese Islands, and this Place left destitute of all Relief from any Man\nof War or Station Ship, much wanted, join'd to other Reasons he had, too\nlong to enumerate in Court, he thought himself indispensably obliged,\nfor the Welfare of the Settlement, to give them no longer Time.\nThen the Prisoners were ordered to the Place of their Imprisonment in\nthe Fort, where Leave was given them to send for any Persons to read and\npray with them.\nOn _Friday_ Morning each of the Prisoners were call'd in private, to\nknow if they had any Load upon their Spirits, for Actions committed as\nyet unknown to the World, the declaring of which was absolutely\nrequired, to prepare themselves for a fit Repentance; but they each\nrefused to declare any Thing, as well as making known to the Governor,\nif they knew of any Conspiracy against the Government.\nWherefore, about Ten a-Clock, the Prisoners were releas'd of their\nIrons, and committed to the Charge and Care of _Thomas Robinson_, Esq;\ncommissioned Provost Marshal for the Day, who, according to custom in\nsuch Cases, pinion'd them, _&c._ and order'd the Guards appointed to\nassist him, to lead them to the Top of the Rampart, fronting the Sea,\nwhich was well guarded by the Governor's Soldiers and People, to the\nNumber of about 100. At the Prisoners Request, several select Prayers\nand Psalms were read, in which all present join'd; when the Service was\nended, Orders was given to the Marshal, and he conducted the Prisoners\ndown a Ladder, provided on Purpose, to the Foot of the Wall, where was a\nGallows erected, and a black Flag hoisted thereon, and under it a Stage,\nsupported by three Butts, on which they ascended by another Ladder,\nwhere the Hangman fasten'd the Cords. They had three Quarters of an Hour\nallowed under the Gallows, which was spent by them in singing of Psalms,\nand some Exhortations to their old Consorts, and the other Spectators,\nwho got as near to the Foot of the Gallows as the Marshal's Guard would\nsuffer them. When the Governor ordered the Marshal to make ready, and\nall the Prisoners expecting the Launch, the Governor thought fit to\norder _George Rounsivel_ to be untied, and when brought off the Stage,\nthe Buts having Ropes about them, were hawl'd away; upon which, the\nStage fell, and the Prisoners were suspended.\n               A short Account of the Prisoners executed.\nFirst, _John Augur_, being about 40 Years of Age, had been a noted\nMaster of Vessels at _Jamaica_, and since among the Pyrates; but on his\naccepting of his Majesty's Act of Grace, and Recommendations to the\nGovernor, he was, notwithstanding, entrusted with a good Vessel and\nCargo, in which betraying his Trust, and knowing himself guilty of the\nIndictment, he all along appeared very penitent, and neither wash'd,\nshav'd, or shifted his old Cloaths, when carried to be executed; and\nwhen he had a small Glass of Wine given him on the Rampart, drank it\nwith Wishes for the good Success of the _Bahama_ Islands and the\nGovernor.\nThe Second, _William Cunningham_, aged 45, had been Gunner with _Thatch_\nthe Pyrate, who being also conscious of his own Guilt, was seemingly\npenitent, and behaved himself as such.\nThe Third, _Dennis Mackarthy_, aged 28, who had also been formerly a\nPyrate, but accepted of the King's Act of Grace; and the Governor had\nmade him an Ensign of the Militia, being recommended as a sober\nciviliz'd Person, which Commission he had at the Time of his joining the\nPyrates, which very much aggravated his other Crimes. During his\nImprisonment, he behaved himself tolerably well; but when he thought he\nwas to die, and the Morning came, without his expected Reprieve, he\nshifted his Cloaths, and wore long blue Ribbons at his Neck, Wrists,\nKnees, and Cap; and when on the Rampart, look'd cheerfully round him,\nsaying, _He knew the Time when there were many brave Fellows on the\nIsland, who would not have suffered him to die like a Dog_; and at the\nsame Time pull'd off his Shooes, kicking them over the Parapet of the\nFort, saying, _He had promis'd not to die with his Shooes on_; so\ndescended the Fort Wall, and ascended the Stage, with as much Agility\nand in a Dress of a Prize-Fighter; when mounted, he exhorted the People,\nwho were at the Foot of the Walls, to have Compassion on him, but,\nhowever willing, they saw too much Power over their Heads to attempt any\nThing in his Favour.\nThe Fourth, _William Dowling_, of about 24 Years of Age, had been a\nconsiderable Time amongst the Pyrates, of a wicked Life, which his\nMajesty's Act of Grace did not reform; his Behaviour was very loose on\nthe Stage, and after his Death, some of his Acquaintance declared, he\nhad confess'd to them, that he had murder'd his Mother before he left\n_Ireland_.\nThe Fifth, _William Lewis_, aged about 34 Years, as he had been a hardy\nPyrate and Prize Fighter, affected an Unconcern at Death; but heartily\ndesired Liquors to drink with his Sufferers on the Stage, and with the\nStanders by.\nThe Sixth, _Thomas Morris_, aged about 22, had been a very incorrigible\nYouth and Pyrate, and seem'd to have very little Anxiety of Mind by his\nfrequent Smiles when at the Bar, being dress'd with red Ribbons as\n_Mackarthy_ was with blue, he said, going over the Ramparts, _We have a\nnew Governor, but a harsh One_; and a little before he was turn'd off,\nsaid aloud, _that he might have been a greater Plague to these Islands,\nand now wish'd he had been so_.\nThe Sixth, _George Bendall_, aged about 18, tho' he said, _he had never\nbeen a Pyrate before, yet he had all the villainous Inclinations that\nthe most profligate Youth could be infected with_; his Behaviour was\nsullen.\nThe Eighth, _William Ling_, aged about 30, not taken Notice of before\nthe last Attempt, behaved himself as becoming a true Penitent, and was\nnot heard to say any other than by Reply to _Lewis_, when he demanded\nWine to drink, _that Water was more suitable to them at that Time_.\nIt was observed that there were but few (beside the Governor's\nAdherents) among the Spectators, who had not deserved the same Fate, but\npardon'd by his Majesty's Act of Grace.\nWe have given what Account came to our Hands of _Charles Vane_ in the\nfirst Volume, beginning at the Time he left _Providence_ on the\nGovernor's Arrival; but we have since had some Particulars sent us,\nwhich relate to Pyracies, both before and after that Date.\nIn the latter End of _March_ 1718, he, with about 12 more lewd Fellows,\nwho had squander'd all their Money got by former Villanies, took a\nCanoe, and went out on the old Account. Soon after their setting out\nthey made Prize of a Sloop belonging to _Jamaica_, brought her into\n_Potters Key_, where they came to an Anchor, and put all the Hands on\nShore, except the Master, to whom they promis'd to return his Sloop as\nsoon as they met with another more fit for their Purpose; which soon\nafter happen'd, for cruizing off _Harbour Island_ in the beginning of\n_April_, they took the _Lark_ Sloop, which had been taken from the\nPyrates by Captain _Pierce_, in the _Phoenix_ Man of War, who fitted her\nout with a Cargo to trade at St. _Augustin_'s. He brought his Prize into\n_Providence_ Harbour, with his black Ensign hoisted, in Defiance of the\nabove named Man of War, which he loudly threaten'd to burn. _Vane_, at\n_Providence_, augmented his Number of Men to 75, sailed in search of\nBooty, and on the 4th of _July_ return'd with a _French_ Ship of 20\nGuns, a _French_ Brigantine laden with Sugar, Indigo, Brandy, Claret,\nWhite Wine, and other Merchandize; the _Drake_ Sloop, _John Draper_,\nMaster, which he took in his Passage from _Providence_ to _Harbour_\nIsland, and plunder'd of a considerable Sum of Money, shifting into her\nsome Sugars out of the _French_ Brigantine; the _Ulster_ Sloop, _John\nFredd_, Master, laden with Timber from _Andros_ Island, into this Vessel\nhe put 70 Casks of Sugar; and the _Eagle_ Sloop, _Robert Brown_, Master,\nbound to _South-Carolina_, which he took with a two-masted Boat,\ncommanded by _Edward England_, his Quarter Master; he put on board this\nlast 20 Terses of Sugar, 6 of Bread, and some other Things. In the\nHarbour he seized on the _Lancaster_ Sloop, _Neal Walker_, Master, and\nthe _Dove_ Sloop, _William Harris_, Master, designed for _Jamaica_,\nwhich he plunder'd of what he thought proper, and shifted 22 Hogsheads\nof Sugar, some _Spanish_ Hides and old Rigging.\nHe had the Impudence to come ashore with his Sword in Hand, threaten to\nburn the principal Houses of the Town, and to make Examples of many of\nthe People; and though he committed no Murders, his Behaviour was\nextreamly insolent to all who were not as great Villains as himself. He\nreign'd here as Governor 20 Days, stopp'd all Vessels which came in, and\nwould suffer none to go out, being inform'd of a Governor being sent\nfrom _England_, he swore, while he was in the Harbour, he would suffer\nno other Governor than himself. He clean'd and fitted the _French_ Ship,\nwith Intent to visit the Coast of _Brazil_, and design'd to sail in 3 or\n4 Days; but the Governor appearing on the 24th, made him change his\nResolution, and think of accepting a Pardon, if it might be granted on\nhis own Terms, as will appear by the Letter which he sent off by a Boat\nto the Governor, and of which the following is an exact Copy.\n'Your Excellency may please to understand that we are willing to accept\nhis Majesty's most gracious Pardon on the following Terms, _viz._\n'That you will suffer us to dispose of all our Goods now in our\nPossession. Likewise, to act as we think fit with every Thing belonging\nto us, as his Majesty's Act of Grace specifies.\n'If your Excellency shall please to comply with this, we shall, with all\nReadiness, accept of his Majesty's Act of Grace. If not, we are obliged\nto stand on our Defence. So conclude\nThe Susperscription was--\n          To his Excellency the Governor of _New Providence_.\nAnd at the Bottom of it.--We wait a speedy Answer.\nThe Governor could not get in that Night, but was forced to keep at Sea,\nso that Mr. _Vane_ could not so speedily have an Answer as his\nExcellency design'd, which he intended to carry himself. About Four that\nAfternoon the _Rose_ Man of War and _Shark_ Sloop got in, and were\nsaluted with four Shot from _Vane_, which, however, did no other Damage\nthan the cutting the _Rose_'s Rigging. In the Evening Captain _Whitney_\nsent his Lieutenant on Board _Vane_, who was higher up the Harbour in\nthe _French_ Ship. They detained this Gentleman two Hours, and the Crew,\nmost of which was drunk, treated him, some with Threats, shewing the\nblack Flag, and some with Contempt and Ridicule, and order'd him back to\ntell his Captain their Resolution was to fight it out to the last.\nWhen Captain _Whitney_ fired the eight a-Clock Gun, _Vane_ did the like\nwith Shot, directed at the _Rose_. At Ten he pointed all the Guns of the\n_French_ Ship (double loaded) at the Man of War, and, after setting Fire\nto her, went with 40 Hands into a Sloop belonging to one _Yates_. As the\n_French_ Man burnt, the Guns fired, and cut some more of the _Rose_'s\nRigging. Captain _Whitney_ apprehending Danger from the fir'd Ship,\ntogether with the _Shark_ Sloop, cut and put out to Sea, which gave\n_Vane_ an Opportunity he laid hold on, to take what he thought fit off\nShore, and to force the best Carpenter and Pilot in the Island on Board\nhim. When he had done, he went to, and lay at _Potters Key_ all Night,\nand the next Morning got under Sail.\nHis Excellency dispatch'd after him the _Buck_ Sloop and another small\none, both well mann'd and fitted, which gain'd while he was upon a Wind,\nand came, before he clear'd the East End of the Island, within Gun-Shot;\nbut he easing out his Main-Sheet, and setting his Flying-Jibb, left them\nsoon after; wherefore, Night coming on, and their Pursuit being\nfruitless, they return'd.\nSoon after _Vane_ sent the Governor of _Providence_ Word, he would make\nhim a Visit, and burn his Guardship, for sending two Sloops to chase him\ninstead of answering his Letter.\nThe 30th of _August_ he took the _Neptune_ of 400 Tuns, and the\n_Emperor_ of 200 Tuns, the Particulars of which are in the subjoin'd\nProtest.\nThe 9th of _September_ he arrived at _Allens Key_ in a _Spanish_\nBrigantine; he had before taken a _Spanish_ Ship of the _Havanna_; here\nhe forced on Board a Pilot, took a Sloop and went to _Green Turtle Key_.\nI have only to add: This Pyrate, whose Death is set down in the first\nVolume, betray'd the Coward when at the Gallows, and died in Agonies\nequal to his Villainies, which he gave no Ground to believe proceeded\nfrom the Apprehensions of a future State, but the Fear of Death. He\nshew'd not the least Remorse for the Crimes of his past Life, which was\ntaken Notice of by the Spectators of his deserved Punishment, and told\nme by a worthy Gentleman who saw Justice done on him at _Gallows Point_\non _Port Royal_.\n       The Protest of Captain _King_, Commander of the _Neptune_\n'By this publick Instrument of Protest be it made known and manifest,\nthat on the 30th Day of _August_ 1718, _John King_, lately Commander of\nthe _Neptune_ Hagboat of _London_, but now in the Island of\n_Providence_, one of his Majesty's _Bahama_ Islands, came before me\n_Woodes Rogers_, Esq; Governor, _&c._ and declared to me, that on the\nDay and Date above-written, he sailed with the said Ship _Neptune_\nHagboat over the Bar of _Carolina_, in Company with three more Ships\nbound for _London_, _viz._ the _Emperor_, Captain _Arnold Powers_,\nCommander, and the Pink _Antamasia_, Captain _Dumford_, Commander, and\nthe Pink ......, Captain _Evers_, Commander, and about two Hours after\nhe was over the Bar of _South-Carolina_, he saw four Sail of Vessels\nstanding some one Way, some another; but one of them being a Brigantine,\ngave Chase, and, in about two Hours time, came up with his Ship with a\nblack Flag flying, and after having fir'd several Guns, demanded him to\nstrike, and to come on Board the Brigantine, commanded by one _Charles\nVane_, a Pyrate, who detained him and four of his Men on board the said\nBrigantine, and sent several of his Men on board the _Neptune_; and when\nthey came on board they commanded him to make Sail, and began to rob and\nrifle as they thought fit, _&c._ taking only the _Neptune_ and _Emperor_\nwith them; for by the Information of the Captain of the _Neptune_ and\n_Emperor_, the other two were loaded with Pitch and Tar, which was not\nfor their Turn, so they would not give Chace to them; but in a small\nTime after they had held a Consultation together, they concluded to\ncarry the Ship _Neptune_ and _Emperor_, with their Crew, to _Green\nTurtle Key_, on _Abbaco_, so steered their Course accordingly for the\nsaid Place. About four Days after _John King_, Commander of the\n_Neptune_ declares, he fell sick of a violent Fever on board the said\n_Vane_'s Brigantine, and _Vane_ asked him, if he would go on board his\nown Ship? he readily answered, Yes, if he pleased; so hoisted out his\nBoat, and sent him on board. And about four Days afterwards the Pyrates\nheld a Consultation on board their own Vessel. The Captain, and most of\nthe Officers, were for taking what they wanted out of the Ship _Neptune_\nand _Emperor_, and so let them go about their Business; but the rest of\nthe Company was not willing for it, because, they said, What should they\nclean their Vessel by? And what Defence should they have whilst they\nwere cleaning? So concluded to proceed on to _Green Turtle Key_, which\nthey did, and arrived there on or about the 12th of _September_ 1718,\nand began to make Preparations for careening their Vessels, which held\nabout three Weeks, and at the latter End of this Time they had taken\nfrom both Ships such Things as they wanted, and then took their Leaves\nof the said Ships and Captains, wishing them a good Voyage home, so set\nSail; but in a little Time after made a Sloop coming into the Harbour of\n_Green Turtle Key_, perceiving her to come towards them without any\nFear, came to an Anchor again, and sent away the two Mast Boat after\nthem with about twelve Men in her, expecting it was a Sloop from\n_Providence_ with fifty Men, according to Promise, when they left\n_Providence_, but in three Hours, or thereabouts, they spoke with her,\nwhich gave them Account that they came from _Providence_; and also\nlaying down the State and Condition of that Island, it being the\nexpected Sloop aforesaid, out of which some of the Men entered with\n_Vane_, but know not how many. And likewise the said _King_ farther\ndeclares, that he heard some of the Pyrates say, that Sloop had brought\nAmmunition and Provisions, _&c._ and the Commander's Name was one\n_Nicholas Woodall_. The said _King_ asked what was the best News at\n_Providence_? They replied, None good: But bid him ask not many\nQuestions, but fit up his Ship, in order to go for _England_ or\n_Providence_; if the latter, they would take Care to see us to\n_Providence_, and did believe they should go in and surrender themselves\nup to the King's Pardon. The next Morning, being very much disturb'd\nwith the News that the Sloop brought from _Providence_ by the said\n_Woodall_, they voted to Maroon Captain _Walker_, but that did not take\nPlace, so put it to Vote again to maroon and destroy the _Neptune_,\nwhich they did with cutting away the Masts, Rigging, Sails, Beams, and\nfiring a Gun, double loaded with Shot down her Hold, and totally\ndisabled her from ever proceeding her Voyage home to _England_. And the\nsaid _King_ does verily believe, that the said _Woodall_'s Sloop coming\nthere, was the Occasion of all the aforesaid Mischief, believing what\nwas done was to pay him for his great Favour done them. And farther, the\nsaid Captain _King_ says, that some of the Pyrates, who were his\nFriends, told him, that if that Sloop had not come, this Damage would\nnot have been; and that they were very sorry for it; so by the said\n_Vane_'s Order they went to work to load this _Woodall_'s Sloop with\nRice, Pitch, Tar, Deer Skins, Sails, Rigging, _&c._ After she was\nloaded, being the next Day, they all sailed together as Pyrates, taking\nwith them one of Captain _Walker_'s Sons, with his Sloop, to tend on\nthem, and as Pilot; but before they got out of the Channel, arrived to\nthe Ships _Neptune_ and _Emperor_, a Sloop from _Providence_, sent by\nthe Governor to hear what was the best News there, hearing that _Vane_\nwas there. The Captains of the said Sloop, _Hornigold_ and _Cockram_\ntold the Captains _Powers_ and _King_, that they were come by the\nGovernor's Order to assist them in what they could, who accordingly did,\nwith making Dispatch to _Providence_, to acquaint his Excellency the\nGovernor what sad Condition they were in by the Pyrates hard Usage,\nleaving them without Provisions, _&c._ So the said Captains _Hornigold_\nand _Cockram_ set Sail that Night, and in three or four Days after took\nthe Sloop _Woolfe_, _Nicholas Woodall_, Master, that had traded with\n_Charles Vane_, the Pyrate, and carried him to his Excellency the\nGovernor of _Providence_, who seized his Vessel, and confined him\nPrisoner. By that Time _Vane_ came in a second time to _Green Turtle\nKey_, and began a second Plunder, taking from the Ships Rice, Rigging,\nMasts, Sails, _&c._ from both Ships, and told the said _King_, that if\nhe offered to touch his Prize he would burn her, and him in her, if ever\nhe catched him again; so sailed away the second time: And about three\nWeeks after arrived the said Captains _Hornigold_ and _Cockram_, with\nfive Sloops from _Providence_, sent down by the Governor, to save what\nGoods they could out of the _Neptune_, that was in so much Danger. The\nnext Day they began to load the Sloops, and got them loaded in two Days,\nso sailed away. The said _King_ came to _Providence_ to consult and\nagree with the Governor what to do in such a Case. After some Time spent\nit was concluded to fit out the _Willing Mind_ with Guns and Men, enough\nto stand an Engagement with _Vane_, and sell the _Neptune_; and, in a\nfew Days after, did accordingly put her up publick to Sale, and it was\nthus sold to one Mr. _George Hooper_, for seventy one Pounds current\nMoney of _Jamaica_, he being the Person that bid the most Money for her.\nThe _Willing Mind_ being fitted, sailed from _Providence_ the 15th of\n_November_ 1718, and arrived at _Green Turtle Key_ the 19th, and took\nthe Goods out of the _Neptune_, being in a very bad Condition; and after\nthey had taken out all her Cargo, finding the _Neptune_ to be better\nthan they did expect; and, having a fair Wind, brought both Ships up to\n_Providence_, the _Neptune_ got in safe, but the _Willing Mind_ struck\non the Bar, and sprung a Leak, insomuch that she was forced to unload\nand careen, and, when down, found her to be very bad, a Piece of her\nmain Keel being gone, so was forced to hawl her ashore; and when the\nCarpenters had done what could be done to her, she could not be got up\nagain by all the Strength that could be made, and tried for several\nDays, breaking and tearing all to pieces, but all to no Purpose; so the\nGovernor order'd a Warrant of Survey on her, and was found by the\nSurveyors not sufficient to proceed any further, being very much damaged\nin her Wood-Work and Iron-Work, _&c._ Whereupon the said _King_ desired\na second Survey of his Ship and Goods, they lying in a very bad\nCondition. Now in the Harbour of _Providence_ there being no Vessels to\ncarry them to _England_, he therefore is now going to _Carolina_ to\nconsult with Mr. _Richard Splat_, who shipp'd the Goods on board, and to\nknow of him what further may be done with the said Goods, and that he\nmay rightly apprize all they concern'd, of the present Condition of the\nShip and Goods; he has further taken the Opinion of Captain _Thomas\nWalker_, Captain _Richard Thompson_, and Captain _Edward Holmes_,\nPersons who are well acquainted what sad Condition the Ship and Goods\nare now in; whereupon the said _King_, and one of the Mariners belonging\nto the Ship _Neptune_, did, and doth hereby protest against the said\n_Charles Vane_, and the rest of the Mariners, Pyrates and Robbers,\nbelonging to the Brigantine aforesaid, and for the feloniously and\npyratically taking, boarding, entering and plundering, and for sinking\nand disabling within the Harbour of _Green Turtle Key_, the said Ship\n_Neptune_, and for all Damages and Losses accruing thereby to the\nOwners, Freighters, or any other Persons concern'd therein. In Testimony\nwhereof we have hereunto set our Hand and Seals this 5th Day of\n_February_, _Anno Dom._ 1718-9.\nCould the Reader conceive the Pains we have been at, to collect Matters\nfor the composing a genuine History of the Lives of the Pyrates, and the\ngreat Care we have taken to deliver nothing but the Truth, he would\nreadily forgive, nay, would be apt to commend our placing those\nParticulars in the Appendix of the same Book, which we could not\npossibly obtain (notwithstanding our diligent Enquiries) before the\nLives were printed, and the Book in a manner ready for Publication.\nWhat we have said in the foregoing Part of this Volume, of Captain\n_Bowen_, may be depended on as Truth; but as we had not that Certainty\nof his Original we now have, we rather chose to be silent than impose on\nour Readers with Fables of our own Invention: We have since learn'd (and\nit is with Reason we can depend on our Account, having it from one who\npersonally knew, and often convers'd with him) that he was born of\ncreditable Parents, in the Island of _Bermudas_, who took Care to give\nhim a good Education answerable to the Vocation he was design'd for,\nwhich was the Sea.\nThe first Voyage he made was to _Carolina_, where some Merchants finding\nhim every Way capable, and that he was a sober intelligent Man, gave him\nthe Command of a Ship, and sent him to the _West-Indies_. He continued\nin this Employ for several Years, but one Voyage, in his Return, he had\nthe Misfortune to fall in with, and be taken, by a _French_ Pyrate, who\nhaving no Artist on board, detain'd Captain _Bowen_ to navigate their\nVessel; and after cruizing some Time in the _West-Indies_, shap'd their\nCourse for the _Guiney_ Coast, where they made several Prizes, and took\nseveral good Artists; but having Experience of Captain _Bowen_, he could\nby no Means prevail on them for a Discharge; tho' notwithstanding the\nService he was to them, they treated him as roughly as they did their\nother Prisoners, of which I have already taken Notice in Captain\n_White_'s Life.\nThey (the Pyrates) doubled the _Cape_ of _Good Hope_, steer'd for,\nrefresh'd at _Johanna_, and having made their Voyage to the\n_East-Indies_, lost their Ship, as is already shewn in the above Life,\n(and need not be here repeated) on _Madagascar_: The other\nParticularities which are not set down in _Bowen_'s own Life, will be\nfound in those of his Companions; as his going with Captain _Read_; the\ntaking the _Grabb_; the coming to _Mayotta_, and from thence in the\n_Grabb_ to _Madagascar_; the joining of that Vessel and _Fourgette_'s;\nthe taking the _Speaker_; his succeeding _Booth_ in the Command, and his\nDeath at _Mascarenas_.\nWe have placed this Life in the Appendix, which will not perhaps be\nthought a proper Place; but we could not gather the Particulars, which\nwere collected out of several different Journals, Time enough to insert\nit in the Body of the Book, and therefore, thought of reserving this\nLife for Part of another Volume; but when we had compiled it, and found\nit was a Sort of Recapitulation of the Adventures of the _Madagascar_\nPyrates which went before, we judged it more proper to give it in the\nAppendix than to separate this Gentleman from his Companions; and we\nwere the rather induc'd to this, as the Reader will here find an Account\nof _Bowen_'s Death, which we had not learn'd at the Time we wrote his\nLife; the Papers which we got after a long Search, and which has\nfurnish'd us with some other Particulars of that Rover's Life, not being\nat that Time to be found.\nCaptain _North_ was born at _Bermudas_, and was the Son of a Sawyer,\nwhich Business he himself was bred up to, but took, at last, to the\nSeas, at the Age of 17 or 18, shipping himself Cook on board a Sloop,\nbuilt at _Bermudas_, for some Gentlemen of _Barbadoes_, with Design to\nfit her out for a Privateer. She was bound to her Owners, but the Master\ntook _Santa Vdas_ in the Way, and loaded with Salt. When they came to\n_Barbadoes_ all the Crew was press'd, and _North_ with his Companions\nwere put on board the _Reserve_.\nThe Master applied himself to the Governor, and got all his Men clear'd,\n_North_ excepted, who, as he was a Lad, was neglected, and left on board\nthe Man of War, which soon after sail'd for _Jamaica_; some Time before\nthe _Reserve_ was relieved from this Station, he laid Hold of an\nOpportunity to run away, and shipp'd himself on board a Sugar Drover, in\nwhich Way of Life he continued about two Years, and being an able\nSailor, tho' no Artist, he was offer'd to go Master of one of these\nCoasters, which he refus'd, and went on board a Privateer.\nThe first Voyage he made, as a Privateer, they took a couple of good\nPrizes, which made every Man's Share very considerable; but _North_, as\nhe had got his Money lightly, so he spent it, making the Companions of\nhis Dangers the Companions of his Diversions, or rather joining himself\nwith them, and following their Example; which all (who are acquainted\nwith the Way of Life of a successful _Jamaica_ Privateer) know is not an\nExample of the greatest Sobriety and Oeconomy.\nHis Money being all spent, he took the same Method for a Recruit, that\nis, he went a second Time a Privateering, and met with such Success,\nthat he engag'd very heartily in this Course of Life, and made several\nlucky Cruizes.\nSome Time after he grew tir'd, thought of trading, and shipp'd himself\non board a Brigantine, bound for the _Spanish_ Coast, commanded by one\nCaptain _Reesby_: This Vessel went both on the Trading and Privateer\nAccount, so that the Men shipp'd for half Wages, and equal Shares of\nwhat Prizes they should make, in the same Manner, as to the Shares, as\non board a Privateer; their trading answer'd very poorly, and their\nprivateering Business still worse, for they return'd without making any\nPrize.\nThey were forced to leave the _Spanish_ Coast, on Account of a _Spanish\nGuarda la Costa_, of 40 Guns and Three hundred and fifty _Frenchmen_,\ncommanded by a Captain of the same Nation. When they made the Island of\n_Jamaica_, they fell in with _Bluefields_, off which Place two _French_\nPrivateer Sloops were cruizing, one of which was formerly a Privateer of\n_Jamaica_, called the _Paradox_; they immediately clapp'd Capt. _Reesby_\non board, taking him for a Trader, come from the _Spanish_ Coast, and\nweakly mann'd; however, they were soon made sensible of the Mistake, for\nthey came to fetch Wool, and one of them went away shorn; I mean\n_Reesby_ took one of them, and the other was obliged to a good Pair of\nHeels for his Safety. _Reesby_ lost ten Men, killed outright in the\nEngagement, and had seven wounded; the latter, tho' he had made but a\nbroken Voyage, he put ashore at _Bluefields_, and ordered great Care to\nbe taken of them, at the Owners Expence: Here he took in fresh\nProvision, and then beat up to _Port Royal_, where _Reesby_ paid them\nvery honourably, gave them a handsome Entertainment, and begg'd they\nwould not leave him, as he had a very great Value for them all; but for\n_North_ particularly, who was a good Swimmer, manag'd a Canoe, with\ngreat Dexterity, and fear'd nothing.\nUpon this Desire of the Captain's, _North_ and the greater Part staid\nashore till Captain _Reesby_ was refitted, and went a second Voyage with\nhim to the Coast, at seventeen Dollars a Month, and no Share; they\ncarried 300 Negroes, beside Bale Goods; they staid four Months on the\nCoast, and dispos'd of all the Slaves and Goods to great Advantage. Upon\ntheir Return to _Jamaica_, after some Stay on the Island, Captain\n_Reesby_ not going out again, _North_ went once more a Privateering, and\nmade a considerable Booty. While _North_ was ashore after a Cruize, he\nwas press'd on board the _Mary_ Man of War: He made a Cruize in her to\nthe _Spanish_ Coast, and return'd to _Jamaica_; but hearing the _Mary_\nwas soon to go to _England_, he, and three more, resolv'd to swim ashore\nfrom the Keys, where the Men of War lie, but he was taken as he was\ngoing off the Head, and whipp'd; he, however, found Means to make his\nEscape, before the Ship left the Island, and went on board the _Neptune_\nSloop, a Privateer, commanded by Captain _Lycence_, then Lieutenant of\nthe _Reserve_, who, while the Ship was in the Carpenter's Hands, got a\nCommission of the Governor to take a Cruize. Captain _Moses_, who\ncommanded the _Reserve_, went on board their Sloop, under the Command of\nhis Lieutenant, for Diversion only: They cruized off _Hispaniola_, where\nthey met with a _French_ Letter of Mart Merchant Man, of 18 Guns, and\n118 Men, who had the Day before engaged the _Swan_ Man of War, and shook\nher off.\nThe _Neptune_ attack'd her, and Captain _Moses_ was wounded one of the\nfirst, and carried down; _Lycense_ order'd to board, but the\nQuarter-Master, who steer'd, mistook the Helm, the Sloop fell off, and\nthe _French_ pouring in a Volley of small Shot, Captain _Lycence_ was\nkill'd, which being told to _Moses_, as the Surgeon dress'd him, he\norder'd _North_ to the Helm, bid them not be discouraged, and he would\nbe upon Deck immediately. Accordingly he came up as soon as dress'd,\nlaid the Ship on board, where they made a very obstinate Resistance; but\nthe _French_ Captain being kill'd, who received eleven Shot before he\ndropp'd, they, at length, became Masters.\nThe Privateer lost ten Men, and twenty were wounded: The _French_ had\nfifty Men killed and wounded, among whom was the Captain, who had\nreceived two Shot, as he was going down to the Surgeon to get his Blood\nstaunch'd, and came upon Deck just as he was boarded, where, encouraging\nhis Men, he was distinguished and aimed at.\nWhen they had brought the Prize into _Jamaica_, as she was an _English_\nBottom, built at _Bristol_, and called the _Crown_, the former Owners\nsued to have half the Ship and Cargo, and recovered one third.\n_North_ went again a Privateering, Captain _Moses_ his Ship being not\nfitted, he would take a second Cruize, and _North_ with him. Some Time\nafter their Return, Captain _Moses_ being a cruizing in the _Reserve_,\n_North_, who was ashore, was press'd on board the _Assistance_ Man of\nWar; and on the _Reserve_'s coming, being recommended by Captain _Moses_\nto his own Captain, he was handsomely treated, and made one of the\nBarge's Crew: He was very easy till the _Assistance_ was order'd to\n_England_, and then, as he was apprehensive of going into a cold\nClimate, he took his Leave of the Man of War, and said nothing. He then\nwent on board a Privateer again, and made several Prizes, two of which\nwere _English_ Bottoms, and sued for by former Owners; _North_ thinking\nit hard to venture his Life, and have Part of his Prize Money taken\naway, and the Press being hot in _Jamaica_, he resolved to sail no more\nwith the _English_; but went to _Curasoe_ into the _Dutch_ Service, and\nsail'd with a _Spanish_ Trader to the Coast of _New Spain_ several\nVoyages. In the last he made, they were chased ashore by a couple of\n_French_ Sloops, one of which was commanded by a _Dutchman_, named\n_Lawrence_, who, with his Comrade, took Possession of their Vessel, and\nrifled her; the Crew of the Prize called to them, and asked, if they\nwould give them good Quarters? which they promis'd; took them all on\nboard, and used 'em very handsomely.\nThe _French_ gave the Prisoners a small Sloop they took a while after,\nand they returned to _Curaso_.\nHe having now forgot his Resentment, he return'd to _Jamaica_, and went\non board and cruiz'd in a _Spanish Barca Longa_, of 10 Guns, commanded\nby Captain _Lovering_, born at _Jamaica_; they cruiz'd three Months in\nthe _West Indies_, and making but a small Hand of it, they put for\n_Newfoundland_, to try their Fortune on the Banks: Here they met a Man\nof War, who renew'd their Commission for six Months longer. The first\nPrize they made was a _French_ Ketch, with a _Spanish_ Pass, and would\nhave pass'd for a _Spaniard_, but by strict Search, and threatning of\nthe Men, they discovered her to be what she really was, tho' she had, as\na _Spaniard_, slipp'd thro' the Fingers of a Man of War before.\nThey carried their Prize into Harbour, went again upon the Cruize, met\nwith a _French_ Letter of Mart Merchant Man, a _Bristol_ built Ship,\ncalled the _Pelican_, of 18 Guns, and Seventy five Men, half laden with\nFish: This Ship stood them a long Argument; they clapp'd her on board,\nand two of their Men enter'd, but missing lashing, the _Barca Longa_\nfell a-stern, and the two Men were made Prisoners; however, they came up\nwith her again, clapp'd her on board a second Time, and carried her into\nthe same Port where they had left the Ketch.\nThey after this put to Sea again, and being discovered by the _French_\nSettlement ashore, they went into St. _Mary_'s Bay, where they fell in\nwith a large _French_ Fly-Boat, of 800 Tons, eighty Men, and 18 Guns,\nand laden with Fish: They chased and came up with her, under _French_\nColours; when they were pretty near the _Frenchman_ they haled, and\nask'd, whence they came? a _Guernsey_ Man, at the Bowsprit End,\nanswer'd, from _Petit Guavers_; that they had been cruizing on the\nBanks, and were going into the Bay for Refreshment. The _Frenchman_ bid\nthem come no nearer, but send their Boat on board; they keeping on the\nChase he fired at them, they did not mind this, but run up a long Side\nand boarded him; the _French_ ran to their close Quarters, and disputed\nthe Ship three Quarters of an Hour, when they all call'd for Quarters\nexcept one Man, who wou'd take none, but ran like a Madman into the\nThick of the _English_, and wounded several, tho' he was soon dispatch'd\nby their Pistols.\nThey carried this Prize to join the others, and turning all the\nPrisoners ashore, except what were necessary to condemn their Prizes;\nthey stood, with a Fleet of four Sail, for _Rhode Island_.\nHere they condemn'd the Fly-Boat and Ketch, but found a great Difficulty\nin getting the _Pelican_ condemn'd, the _English_ Owners putting in\ntheir Claim; but, at length, a _Scotch_ Lawyer did their Business, upon\nleaving 300 l. in his Hands to bear the Charge of any future Suit.\nCaptain _Lovering_ dying here, the Ship's Company bought the _Pelican_,\nbroke up the _Barca Longa_, sent her Owners their Shares, and got a\nCommission for the Master to cruize Southward as far as the Line, and to\nbe valid for eighteen Months certain, two Years allowing for Accidents.\nThey fitted this Ship for a long Voyage, out of the Joint Stock of the\nCompany; but Iron Hoops being scarce in _New England_, they were obliged\nto take Casks hoop'd with Wood, which I mention, because it proved the\nRuin of their Voyage to the _East Indies_ for a whole Year.\nThey being fitted for the Sea, they set Sail and steer'd for the _Cape_\nof _Good Hope_, which they doubled in the Month of _June_, made the best\nof their Way to _Madagascar_, and went into _Augustine_ Bay, where they\nvictualled and watered, but before this was done it was _August_, which\nwas too late to go to the _East-Indies_; which they propos'd to do with\nDesign, to cruize on the _Moors_, not intending to Pyrate among the\n_Europeans_, but honestly and quietly to rob what _Moors_ fell in their\nWay, and return home with clean Consciences, and clean, but full Hands,\nwithin the limited Time of their Commission.\nFrom _Augustine_ they went to _Johanna_, and the Provisions they had\nsalted up at _Madagascar_ not being well done, it began to spoil; this\nand their Cloaths wanting Repair, made them desperately resolve to take\nthe King of _Johanna_ and make him ransome himself, but the Master wou'd\nnot take Charge of the Ship, being unacquainted with the Coast: They\ncruiz'd among the Islands, landed at _Comaro_, and took the Town, but\nfound no Booty, excepting some Silver Chains, and check'd Linnen. From\nhence they went to _Mayotta_, where they took in a _Frenchman_ who had\nbeen morooned there, and maintain'd by the King; they consulted with him\nabout the surprizing and taking his Town. The _Frenchman_ was averse to\nit, as he owed him the Obligation of being preserved; however, he was in\ntheir Hands, and must do as they would have him: They surrounded the\nKing's House after they had been three Days in his Town, and took him\nand all the Inhabitants; but the King's Son made his Way thro' the\nthickest of them with his Cutlash, tho' he was shot afterward. The\nPretence they made use of for this inhospitable Manner, was, that the\nKing had poison'd the Crew of a Ship, which was their Consort; he denied\nit, as well he might, for they themselves never heard of a Ship of the\nName they gave this fictitious one. The King they carried on board, the\nother Prisoners they put into a Sort of a Temple, with a Guard over them\nof 36 Men.\nThe Alarm being given in the Country, the Natives came down in a Body of\nsome Thousands, and attack'd the Guard; but the Ship hearing the Fire,\nand seeing the Hills covered with Blacks, discharged several great Guns,\nloaded with Patridge, which making a very great Slaughter, obliged them\nto retire.\nThe King ransom'd himself for some Silver Chains to the Value of a\nthousand Dollars, and for what Provision they demanded; and at the\nsetting him ashore, swore Allegiance to them as Masters of the Country,\nand took an Oath besides, never to poison any more white Men.\nAfter this notable Expedition, they staid here a Fortnight, tho' always\non their Guard, and then went back for _Augustine_ with about 20 Slaves,\nthey carried away with them for Servants.\nHere a Sickness coming among them, they built Huts ashore; they lost,\nnotwithstanding all their Care and Precaution, their Captain and thirty\nMen, by the Distemper which they contracted; but it abating, they\nthought of going to Sea again, but on examining their Water Casks, they\nfound the Hoops all worm eaten and rotten, so that there was no\nProceeding, but this Defect was repaired by their Cooper, who was an\ningenious Fellow; he went into the Woods with the _Mayotta_ Slaves, and\nwith Withies and other Stuff he gathered, fitted them up, and made them\ntight, in acknowledging of which Service, they chose him Captain, and\n_North_ was made Quarter-Master.\nAt _Augustine_ they pick'd up some Straglers, among whom was _David\nWilliams_, and on a Muster, they found they had a hundred and five Men.\nThey then made their Vessel a free Ship, that is, they agreed every Man\nshould have an equal Share in all Prizes; and proceeded for the Mouth of\nthe _Red Seas_.\nIn the Night, after they had reach'd their Station, they made two Ships,\none was the _Mocha_ Frigate, of 40 Guns, commanded by _Culliford_: she\nhad been an _East India_ Man, and under the Command of one Captain\n_Stout_; the other Ship was called the _Soldada_, a Ship of 16 Guns, the\nCaptain's Name _Shivers_; they haled one another, and on both Sides gave\nthe same Answers, _from the Seas_, and upon Agreement, they all lay by\nthat Night: In the Morning they consorted, and agreed to make an equal\nDivision of all Prizes, which any of the three should take from that\nTime for two Months to come.\nThe _Pelican_ spared Wood, Water, and some of her Hands to Captain\n_Culliford_, and here _Williams_ shifted on board him. About ten Days\nafter, these three had join'd Company a large _Moor_'s Ship, on which\nthey afterwards mounted 70 Guns, hove in Sight.\nThey all gave Chase, but the small Ship came first up with the _Moor_,\nwho exchang'd several Shot with the _Soldada_ and _Pelican_; but the\n_Soldada_ clapp'd her on board, and before the _Pelican_ could enter a\nMan, the _Moors_ call'd for Quarters: In boarding the _Moor_, she fired\na Broadside upon the _Soldada_, but only two Shot hull'd her, and kill'd\ntwo Men, which was the only Loss they had in taking a thousand\nPrisoners, Passengers, and Sailors.\nAll the Money was carried on board the _Mocha_ Frigate, and divided\nbetween her Crew and the _Soldada_, excluding without other Reason than\n_sic volumus_, the _Pelican_ from any Share.\nThe Crew of the _Pelican_ expostulated with them, and bid them remember\nthey had spared both Wood and Water, or the _Mocha_ could not have kept\nthe Station; instead of any Answer, they receiv'd a Command to be gone,\nor they would sink them; they answering, they could not go by\nthemselves, wanting the Water and Wood they had spared. The two Consorts\ngave them a thousand Dollars, and some Water out of the _Moor_, bidding\nthem buy Wood, where they could purchase it, and so left the _Pelican_\nto her self, going away for the Coast of _Malabar_, where they put the\nPrisoners and Horses they had taken ashore, sunk the _Soldada_, and\nthence went to the Isle of _St. Mary_'s on _Madagascar_, where the\n_Moor_'s Ship now lies sunk. They shared out of this Prize a thousand\nPounds a Man in Silver and Gold besides other Goods; and the two Pyrates\namounted to the Number of 350 Men.\nThe _Pelican_ kept the same Station for some Days, when a large _Moor_\nShip hove in Sight, they gave Chase, and the _Moor_, not suspecting her\nfor an Enemy, did not endeavour to get away; when the _Pelican_ came up,\nshe fired for the _Moor_ to bring to, which made him set his small\nSails, tho' with the Loss of several Men; for the _Pelican_ being close\nup, brought them down with the small Arms. When the _Moor_ had, at\nlength, hove out his small Sails, the _Pelican_ could not gain upon him\nenough to board, tho' she was not a Pistol Shot a-stern; whenever she\ncame upon his Lee Quarter, the _Moor_ being a tall Ship, took away the\nWind from the _Pelican_, and she could never get to Windward of him. She\nply'd her fore Chase all this while, and drove the _Moors_ from their\nstern Chase, but could not, as they endeavour'd to do, strike the\n_Moors_ Rudder, or any other Way disable him. At length, by the Fear and\nbad Steerage of the _Moor_, the _Pelican_ ran up along Side of them, but\nas she miss'd lashing, she was obliged to shoot a head; in the mean\nwhile the _Moor_ Wore round, the _Pelican_ put to Stays after him but\nnot Staying, and they being all in Confusion, they Wore also; but in\nthis Time the _Moor_ had got the Start, and setting all the Canvas he\ncould pack on his Ship's Back, wrong'd the _Pelican_, and got off.\nThe Loss of this Ship made the Crew almost distracted, and made, for\nsome Time, a great Division among them, some cursing the Ship for a\nheavy Sailor, and proposing to return home, others cursing themselves,\nand the ill Management by which they miss'd lashing, and propos'd going\nto _Madagascar_, and the breaking her up, since as she was a single\nBottom, she must be worm-eaten; but Time, which mollifies the greatest\nRage, abated these Contentions, and put an End to the Animosities which\nsprung from their Disappointment.\nThey being cool, resolved for the _Malabar_ Coast, on which they took\nthree _Moor_ Ships in a little Time; the first they discharged, after\ntaking out 6000 Dollars; the second they took for their own Use, mounted\nher with 26 Guns, and called her the _Dolphin_; the third they sold on\nthe same Coast for 18000 Dollars. Their own Ship they set adrift. From\nthis Coast they made for _Madagascar_, and near the Island _Mascarenas_\nlost all their Masts in a Hurricane. They put up Jury-Masts, came to St.\n_Mary_'s and new masted. Here they found Captain _Culliford_, Captain\n_Shivers_, and their Prize, with three Merchant Men from _America_,\nwhich were come to trade with them, one of which was the _Pembrook_,\ncommanded by _Samuel Burges_, belonging to _Frederick Phillips_,\nMerchant at _New-York_. The Captain of the _Dolphin_, and some of the\nMen being weary of this Life, went home in these Merchant Ships, and the\nCrew chose one _Samuel Inless_, who lived on the Island, for their\nCaptain; they fitted out for the _Streights_ of _Malacca_, where they\nmade several Prizes of _Moor_ Ships, but of little value to them.\n_North_ on board one of the Prizes, was separated from the rest by bad\nWeather, and drove to great Straights for Water. The _Moor_ Merchant,\nwho was on board with him, and whom he had treated very humanely, shewed\nhim a Draught, by which he came to a small Island not far from the\n_Dutch_ Settlement, and watered. The _Moor_ told him, that he ran the\nRisque of his Life should it be known that he had given him a Sight of\nthis Draught. In return for this Service, when he met with his\nCompanions, he got the _Moor_'s Ship discharged.\nThey, after this, made for _Nicobar_, near _Achen_, and, in the Way, met\na large _Dane_ Ship, which they plunder'd, and hove down by, clean'd,\nand return'd to _Madagascar_, where they shar'd their Booty, which was,\nbesides Goods, between 3 and 400 l. a Man. A Month after their Arrival\nthree _English_ Men of War appear'd in Sight, the _Anglesea_, Captain\n_Littleton_, the _Hastings_, Captain _White_, and the _Lizard_, Captain\n_Rumsey_. These Ships occasioned their hawling up the _Dolphin_, which,\nas they could not get her as high as they design'd, they set Fire to.\nCommadore _Littleton_ brought a Pardon for such of the Pyrates as would\naccept it, and many of them, among whom were _Culliford_ and _Shivers_\ndid, and went home with Merchant Men. _North_ accepted it also, but\nwould not trust to it, finding the Time fixed for their Surrender was\nelapsed before the Men of War arrived.\nMost of the Pyrates having left the Isle of St. _Mary_'s, where the\nKing's Ships lay, _North_ thought it not safe for him to stay, and\ntherefore putting all he had into the _Dolphin_'s Boat, he design'd to\njoin his Comrades on the Main of _Madagascar_; but being overset by a\nSquawl, all the People were lost except himself, who swam four Leagues,\nand a Negroe Woman, whom he put on the Bottom of the Boat.\nBeing now on the Main, and quite naked, he frighted the Negroes he met\nwith, as he got out of the Water, for they took him for a Sea-Devil; but\none Woman, who had been used to sell Fowls at the white Mens Houses, had\nthe Courage not to run away, and, when he came near, knew him; she gave\nhim half her Petticoat to cover his Nakedness, and calling a Negroe Man\nwho carried her Things, and was run into the Woods; they help'd him to\nperform his Journey to the Dwelling of some white Men, which was sixteen\nMiles from the Place where he come on Shore; a great Journey for a Man\nso feeble with swimming. He was kindly received and cloathed by his\nComrades, whom he staid with, till he had recovered his Strength, and\nthen he went to a black Prince of his Acquaintance, with whom he staid\ntill the Arrival of Captain _Fourgette_, which was a full Year.\nIn this Vessel (which I have already said in _White_'s Life was taken)\nhe went round the North-End to the West-Side, and came into _Methelage_,\nwhere they surprized the _Speaker_; the Manner of which Surprize is also\nmentioned in the same Life; and, after the Death of Captain _Booth_, was\nchosen Captain's Quarter-Master, by _Bowen_, who succeeded in the\nVoyage, and the Consequences of it are already set down, for he was in\nthe _Speaker_ till she was lost.\nThe next Voyage he made was in the _Speedy Return_ (taken from Captain\n_Drummond_,) in the Capacity of Company's Quarter-Master, with Design to\ncruise in the _Red Seas_; but touching at the Island of _Mayotta_, they\nconsorted with Captain _Howard_, whom they met with at the Island, as is\nalready said. From thence they went and victualled at _Augustine_,\nhaving promised Captain _Bowen_ to meet him in two Months; accordingly\nreturning thither, and missing him, they went to _Mayotta_ to enquire\nafter him; but hearing there that he was gone a Voyage, and as the Place\nof Rendezvous was off the Highlands of St. _John_'s, they steered their\nCourse thither, to join him, and lie for the _Moor_'s Fleet from\n_Mocoa_.\nIn their Passage they met with a violent Storm, in which they were near\nfoundering, it beat in their Stern, and obliged them to throw over all\ntheir Guns (two excepted, which lay in the Hold) and forced them into\nthe Gulf of _Persia_, where they took several small Vessels, which they\nripp'd up to mend their Ship.\nBeing very much in want of Water, having staved all their Casks, to save\nthemselves in the Storm, and meeting with little in the Vessels taken,\nthey hoisted out the Canoe to chase a Fishing Vessel, that they might be\ninform'd where they should find Water. This Boat made from them with all\ntheir Force, but the Ship firing, the People all leap'd into the Water,\nsome of whom were drowned, and the rest got ashoar, except one Man, whom\nthey came up with; but as soon as they thought to lay hold on him, he\ndived, and kept them in play near an Hour and a half: They would not\nshoot him, because it did not answer their Ends; but, at length,\n_North_, who was in the Boat, took the Sprit, and struck at him as he\nrose, hoping to disable him, but he broke his Jaw. They took him by this\nMeans, brought him on board, sent him to the Surgeon, and when they\ndespair'd of his being able to speak, he asked for a Pipe of Tobacco,\nwhich he smoak'd, and drunk a Dram; after which he seem'd very hearty.\nAs the Pyrates had on board several black Slaves, who spoke the\n_East-India_ Tongue, one of them was ordered to enquire of him where\nthey might find Water, promising him his Liberty if he would direct\nthem. On this Promise he carried them to a convenient landing Place,\nwhere he shewed a Well full of Dirt, out of which, after a great deal of\nTrouble to come at it, they drew but three Buckets of Water, which\nsufficed those only who went on Shoar, to the Number of 30. Enraged with\nthis Disappointment after so much Labour, they threaten'd their Prisoner\nwith Death, who told them, if they would have Patience till the Sun was\nset, they would have Plenty, for the Spring would rise, and flow all\nNight; which they found to be Fact, and filled twenty Tun of Water, and\nreturn'd on board, carrying the Man with them, for whom they made a\ngathering of some Goods, and about thirty Dollars; these they gave him,\nand exacted a Promise, that whenever he saw any Ship on that Coast,\nwhich made the same Signals they had made, he would go on board and\nrender them what Service he could, assuring him he would always meet\nwith civil Treatment, and be well rewarded.\nAfter this they cruised on the Gulf of _Persia_ some Days, in hopes of\nmeeting their Consort, not doubting but she had some Share in the Storm.\nThe Time of their Consortship being now over, and she not appearing,\nthey steered for the Highlands of St. _John_ near _Surat_, the Place of\nRendezvous. When they made the Land they spied a tall Ship, and\nimmediately making all clear for an Engagement, they gave chase. The\nother Ship doing the like, they soon met, and, to the great Joy of both\nParties, she proved their Consort. Upon Enquiry they found the\n_Prosperous_ had been ten Days on this Station, and had not met with the\nStorm which had so roughly handled the _Speedy Return_, on giving an\nAccount of their Misfortune, _viz._ their being obliged to throw over\ntheir Guns, and a Quantity of Provisions, Captain _Howard_ spared them\nsome fresh Provisions, and expressing great Concern for the Accident,\nrenewed his Consortship for two Months longer; that is, they agreed\nwhatever Prizes were taken should be equally divided between the Crews\nof both Ships. After they had cruised here fourteen Days, they spied\nseven Sail of tall Ships, which proved to be the _Moors_ from _Mocoa_;\nthey both gave Chace, but the _Speedy Return_ being the better Sailor\nfirst came up with one of them, laid her on board, and carried her in a\nvery little Time, with little more Damage than the Loss of her Bowsprit.\nThe _Prosperous_ kept on the Chace, and having Captain _Whaley_ on board\nas a Pilot, took another at an Anchor, as is said (so need not be\nrepeated) in Captain _Howard_'s Life.\nThe _Speedy Return_ steered with her Prize for the Coast of _Malabar_,\nwhere, by Agreement, she was to wait ten Days for her Consort. In six\nDays the _Prosperous_ joined them, but without any Prize, having rifled\nher, as is before said in another Life.\nHere they made an equal Dividend of their Prizes, burnt the _Speedy\nReturn_, sunk the _Prosperous_, went all on board the _Moor_'s Ship, put\nto Sea, and cruised on this Coast, where they made several Prizes. When\nthey came over against _Cachine_, some black Merchants, Goldsmiths, and\nseveral _Dutch_ Men, came on board to trade with them, bringing a great\nmany Sequins, and other Gold Coin, to change for _Spanish_ Dollars; as\nmany of the Pyrates designed to knock off and return home, they gave 500\nDollars for 200 Sequins, for the Conveniency of close Stowage about\nthem. The Goldsmiths set up their Forges on board the Ship, and were\nfully employed in making them Buttons, Buckles, and what else they\nfancied, so that they had a fair Opportunity of putting what Alloy they\nthought proper. They here also furnished themselves with a good Quantity\nof Arrack, Provisions, and Stores, and then leaving the Coast, shaped\ntheir Course for _Madagascar_, but, in the Way, fell in with the Island\nof _Mauritius_, and put into a Port called the _North-West Harbour_.\nHere they wooded and watered. This Port affords great abundance of a\npoisonous Fish called the _Red-Snapper_, the Nature of which was well\nknown to Captain _Bowen_, who perswaded his Men not to eat of them, but\nthey were in Port, and then are all Commanders, so that this wholesome\nAdvice was thrown away upon them. The Captain seeing their Obstinacy,\nand that they could not be disswaded, eat with them, chusing rather to\nshare the same Fate than be left alone to the Mercy of the _Dutch_, as\nhe was conscious of what he merited.\nThey supp'd plentifully on the Fish, and drank very heartily after it.\nSoon after they began to swell in a frightful Manner. The next Morning\nsome Planters came on board with Fowls, Goats, _&c._ and seeing the\nPyrates in a miserable Condition, and some of these Fish lying on the\nDecks, asked if they had not eat of them? Being answer'd they had,\nadvised their drinking plentifully of strong Liquors, which was the only\nway to expel the Poyson, which had dispatch'd them all in less Time, had\nthey not done it after their unfortunate Meal. They readily followed\nthis Advice, as the Prescription was agreeable, and by this Means, with\nthe Care of the Surgeons, of whom they had several expert in their\nBusiness, and stock'd with good Medicines, they all recovered, four\nexcepted, who paid their Obstinacy with their Lives.\nThey here heel'd their Ship, scrubb'd, tallow'd, and took in what they\nwanted. When they had staid three Months in this Port, the Governor sent\nand desired them to put to Sea, for he expected the Arrival of the\n_Dutch East-India_ Men; they accordingly got every Thing ready, and went\nout, but left several of their Men behind them, as we have said in\n_Bowen_'s Life.\nFrom hence they steered for _Madagascar_, and in their Passage stopped\nat _Don Mascarenas_, where they took in a Quantity of Hogs, Goat, Sheep,\nFowls of all Sorts, and Green Turtle. Captain _Bowen_ here went ashoar\nwith 40 of his Men, having obtained the Governor's Protection by the\nForce of Presents. These Men design'd to give over their Pyracy, and\nreturn home the first Opportunities offer'd them. In six Months after\nthey had staid here, Captain _Bowen_ was taken ill of the dry Belly Ach,\na Distemper as rife here as in the _West-India_ Islands, and was buried\nin the Highway, for the Priests would not allow him holy Ground, as he\nwas a Heretick.\nBut to return; when _Bowen_ went ashoar _North_ was chosen Captain. The\nCeremony of this Installation is, the Crew having made choice of him to\nCommand, either by an unanimous Consent, or by a Majority of Suffrages,\nthey carry him a Sword in a very solemn Manner, make him some\nComplements, and desire he will take upon him the Command, as he is the\nmost capable among them. That he will take Possession of the great\nCabin; and, on his accepting the Office, he is led into the Cabin in\nState, and placed at a Table, where only one Chair is set at the upper\nEnd, and one at the lower End of the Table for the Company's\nQuarter-Master. The Captain and he being placed, the latter succinctly\ntells him, that the Company having Experience of his Conduct and\nCourage, do him the Honour to elect him for their Head, not doubting his\nbehaving himself with his usual Bravery, and doing every Thing which may\nconduce to the publick Good; in Confidence of which, he, in the Name of\nthe Company, promised to obey all his lawful Commands, and declared him\nCaptain. Then the Quarter-Master takes up the Sword, which he had before\npresented him, and he had returned, puts it into his Hand, and says,\n_This is the Commission under which you are to act, may you prove\nfortunate to your self and us_. The Guns are then fired round, Shot and\nall; he is saluted with three Chears; the Ceremony is ended with an\nInvitation from the Captain to such as he thinks fit to have dine with\nhim, and a large Bowl of Punch is ordered to every Mess.\nCaptain _North_ leaving this Island steered for _Madagascar_, and came\nto Cape _Dolphin_ at the South End, as is said in _White_'s Life, where\nhe came to an Anchor, and took on board some Refreshments, but it\nblowing hard, he was obliged to put to Sea, and leave his Boat with 30\nMen behind him. He ran along the East-Side of the Island, and came to a\nPlace called _Ambonavoula_, in the Latitude of 17, 38. where they put on\nShore some of their Goods, and settled themselves among the Negroes,\nseveral living in a House; here they lived as Sovereign Princes among\nthe Inhabitants.\nThe _Moor_ Prisoners they kept on board, and allowed them sufficient\nfresh Provisions. _North_ privately bid the Boatswain of the _Moors_\ntake the Advantage of the Land Breeze in the Night Time, and go off with\nthe Ship, and what Goods were left on board; or the Pyrates would soon\nhawl up the Ship, take every Thing on Shore, and they (marooned there)\nwould never see their own Country again.\nAccordingly the Boatswain following this Advice, laid hold of the\nOpportunity of a dark Night, and communicating his Design to the other\n_Moors_, whom he did not acquaint with this Advice, as _North_ charg'd\nhim not, till he was on the Point of executing his Design, they weigh'd\nwith great Silence and stood to Sea.\nThe next Morning some of the Pyrates propos'd to go on Board and fetch\noff some Iron and other Things to trade with in the Country; but they\nwere strangely surpriz'd when they miss'd the Ship; they alarm'd the\nrest of their Comrades, and went in a Body to Captain _North_ to tell\nhim what had happen'd. He answer'd, if the _Moors_ were gone off with\nthe Ship, it was their own Fault; they ought to have left a sufficient\nNumber of Hands on Board to have secur'd her; that there was now no\nRemedy but Patience, for they had no Vessel to pursue with, except they\nthought the Canoe proper.\nSome of the Pyrates thought as she lay in foul Ground the Cable might be\ncut by some Rock, and the Ship blown off to Sea by that Accident; on\nstarting this, some of them ran up to an Eminence, and from thence spy'd\nthe Ship as far as they could well see, with all Sails set, which was a\ncruel and convincing Proof that their Loss was irreparable.\nThey endeavoured to make themselves easy, since there was no Help; and\ntransporting their Goods to different Abodes, at small Distances, they\nsettled themselves, buying Cattle and Slaves, and lived in a neighbourly\nManner one among another five Years; clear'd a great deal of Ground, and\nplanted Provisions as Yamms, Potatoes, _&c._ The Natives among whom they\nfix'd, had frequent Broils and Wars among themselves, but the Pyrates\ninterposed, and endeavoured to reconcile all differences; _North_\ndeciding their Disputes not seldom, with that Impartiality and strict\nRegard to distributive Justice (for he was allowed, by all, a Man of\nadmirable good natural Parts) that he ever sent away, even the Party who\nwas cast, satisfied with the Reason, and content with the Equity of his\nDecisions.\nThese Inclinations which the Pyrates shewed to Peace, and the Example\nthey set of an amicable Way of Life; for they carefully avoided all\nJars, and agreed to refer all Cause of Complaint among themselves which\nmight arise, to a cool Hearing before _North_, and twelve of their\nCompanions, gave them a great Character among the Natives, who were\nbefore very much prejudiced against the White Men. Nay, in this Point of\nkeeping up a Harmony among themselves, they were so exact, that whosever\nspoke but in an angry or peevish Tone, was rebuked by all the Company,\nespecially if before any of the Country, tho' even but a Slave, of their\nown; for they thought, and very justly, that Unity and Concord were the\nonly Means to warrant their Safety; for the People being ready to make\nWar on one another upon the slightest Occasion, they did not doubt but\nthey would take the Advantage of any Division which they might observe\namong the Whites, and cut them off whenever a fair Opportunity offered.\n_North_ often set this before them, and as often made them remark the\nEffects of their Unanimity, which were, the being treated with great\nRespect and Deference, and having a Homage paid them as to sovereign\nPrinces. Nature, we see, teaches the most Illiterate the necessary\nPrudence for their Preservation, and Fear works Changes which Religion\nhas lost the Power of doing, since it has been looked upon as a Trade,\nand debased by the scandalous Lives of those who think it their Business\nto teach it only, and, satisfied with the Theory, leave the practical\nPart to the Laity: For these Men whom we term, and not without Reason,\nthe Scandal of humane Nature, who were abandoned to all Vice, and lived\nby Rapine; when they judged it for their Interest, not only (politickly)\nwere strictly just, both among themselves, and in composing the\nDifferences of the neighbouring Natives, but grew continent and sober,\nas no doubt they esteemed their Security to depend on shewing the Blacks\nthey could govern those Passions to which they themselves were Slaves.\nIts true, they were all Polygamists, but that was no Scandal among a\nPeople who thought the cohabiting with a pregnant Woman a Sin against\nNature in acting contrary to her Design, which is by Generation to\npropagate the animal Race; and who should be guilty of this Crime among\nthem, they esteemed worse than Beasts, which following Nature, obey her\nOrders exactly, and set Men a Lesson of Prudence. When then, I say, they\nwere continent, I mean they never invaded the Rights either of their\nCompanions, or of the Natives.\nThe Reader may, perhaps, be well enough pleased to hear how on the\nsmallest Difference they proceeded to a Reconciliation; for, as I have\nsaid, it was a Maxim with them, that the least Discord among a few\nParticulars would be the Ruin of a whole Body; as from a small neglected\nSpark, a general Conflagration may arise and lay the noblest City waste.\nOn any Mistake from which a Dispute arose, or on any ill-manner'd\nExpression let fall in Company, they all broke up, and one of the\nCompany poured what Liquor was before them on the Ground, saying, no\nContention could creep in among them without Loss; and therefore he\nsacrificed that Liquor to the evil Fiend, to prevent a greater Damage.\nThen both the contending Parties, on Pain of being banished the Society,\nand sent to another Part of the Island, were summon'd to appear at\nCaptain _North_'s, the next Morning, and, in the mean while, they were\ncommanded to keep their respective Houses.\nThe next Morning both the Parties being met, and all the Whites summon'd\nto attend, the Captain set the Plaintiff and Defendant on one Side, and\ntold them, that till the Aggressor had consented to do Justice, and till\nthe Person injured had forgot his Resentment, they must esteem them both\nEnemies to the Publick, and not look upon them as their Friends and\nCompanions. He then wrote down the Names of all the Assembly, roll'd\nthem up, and put them into a Hat, out of which, each Party shaking the\nHat, chose six Tickets; and these twelve Rowls or Tickets contained the\nNames of the assistant Judges, who, with the Captain, heard and\ndetermined in the Cause, calling and examining the Witnesses. When the\nMatter was fully debated, the Court was adjourned to the next Day, and\nthe Litigators commanded to appear again, and, in the Interim, not to\nstir out their Houses, to which they were respectively conducted by two\nor three each, lest the Slaves, or the neighbouring Blacks, should, by a\ngreater Number, have any Suspicion of their Disagreement.\nThe second Day the Examination began afresh, and the Witnesses were\nsifted, as if they had not before been examined, and this to try if they\nwere consistent with their former Evidence, which was noted down. Then\nthe Court was again adjourned, and the disagreeing Parties remanded home\ntill next Morning, when Judgment was given, which was a Fine in\nProportion to the Affront.\nThe Reason of confining those who had Dissension was to deter them, by\nthis small Punishment, from all future Quarrels, and to prevent any ill\nAccident which might happen by their being at full Liberty.\nThe Example they set, and the Care they took to accommodate Differences\namong their Neighbours, had calmed all the Country round them. After\nthey had staid here near three Years, Captain _North_, and some of his\nCompanions, had a Mind to visit the Country Southward, and trade for\nmore Slaves and Cattle; to which End taking a considerable Quantity of\nPowder and Arms, beside what they might use, with 50 Whites and 300\nNatives, he set forward on his Journey. When they had travelled about\nfourscore Miles Southward, they came to a Nation rich in Slaves and\nCattle, who inhabited the Banks of the largest River on the East-Side\nthe Island, called _Mangora_. With these People he trafficked for a\ngreat Number of Slaves and Cattle, which he purchased for Guns and\nPowder: They being at War when Captain _North_ came among them, with a\nneighbouring Prince, he was intreated to give his Assistance, for which\nthey, the _Mangorians_, promised him a hundred Slaves with 500 Head of\nCattle, and all the Prisoners they should take. On these Conditions he\njoined them, and marched to a very large Town of the Enemy's, which was\nnaturally very strong, and esteemed by the Natives impregnable, being\nsituated on a high and craggy Rock, which could be ascended by the Way\nonly leading to the Gate, where was kept a strong Guard. The Blacks in\n_North_'s Army were for leaving this Town unattempted, and marching\nfarther into the Country, in search of Booty; but _North_ told 'em it\nwas not safe to leave a Garrison of Enemies at their Backs, which would\ncontinually infest them, by falling on their Rear, and which would be an\nObstacle to their carrying off what Plunder they might get together;\nbeside, it would be an Azyle for all the Country, which would fly\nthither till they had gather'd a Body considerable enough to come down\nand face them in the Field, which the Enemy might do with reasonable\nHopes of Success, as their Men would be all fresh, while those of his\nParty would be fatigued with Marches, may be encumbered by Plunder, and\nworn down with the Inconveniencies of lying exposed in the Fields.\nThe chief of his Allies allowed his Reasons good, were an Attempt on the\nTown practicable, which Experience told him was not; for, tho' several\ntimes besieged, it never could be taken, it would be the Loss of a great\ndeal of Time, and many Mens Lives to offer at it.\n_North_ desired he would leave the Management of this Siege to him.\nThe Chief answered, he should do as he pleased, but it was against his\nJudgment to attack a Town which Nature her self had fortified, which God\nAlmighty would never suffer to be taken, and which had, to no Purpose,\ncost the Lives of a Number scarce to be told, of his Countrymen, in the\nseveral Attempts they had made to be Masters of it.\n_North_ disposed his Army, and invested the Rock on every Side, then\nsent Word to the Town, if they did not surrender he would give no\nQuarter to either Sex or Age. The Inhabitants laugh'd at his Message,\ntold him, they did not believe he had learnt the Art of flying, and till\nhe had, they thought themselves very secure from his putting such\nMenaces in Execution.\nOut of the White Men, _North_ chose 30, whom he set at the Head of 3\nCompanies, consisting of 100 Blacks each; and as he had some\nGrenade-Shells with 'em, soon dispersed the Guard at the Foot of the\nRock, and made a Lodgment; tho' the Blacks were acquainted with\nFire-Arms, the Shells were entirely new to them, and as they saw their\nterrible Effect, threw down their Arms, and gained the Middle of the\nRock, where they had another _Corps de Guarde_, tho' not without some\nLoss. Those who were at the Bottom of the Rock being put to flight,\n_North_ sent 10 Whites and 500 Blacks to take that Post, and Orders to\nthe other Whites to mount the Rock, and having beat that Guard, if\npossible, to enter the Town with them. They accordingly ascended in this\nOrder, as the Road was so narrow, only three could pass on a-breast, and\nthe Enemy, when within Cast of a Dart, threw down a Shower upon them,\nthree unarmed Blacks with their Shields march'd before three small Shot\nMen, and shelter'd them from the Enemies Weapons; these were followed by\nothers, with the same Precaution, the White Men being mix'd with those\nwho thus went up, that is to say, one White Musketeer to two Blacks.\nThe Enemy seem'd resolute to defend the Pass, but when they had, to no\nPurpose, spent a Number of Darts, and had lost some Men by the Shot,\nthey swiftly took to the Top of the Rock, where, joined with fresh Men\nfrom the Town, they made a Stand and Shew of Resistance; _North_'s Men\nfollowed, and pouring in a Volley, put them into Confusion, which gave\nthe Assailants an Opportunity to come near enough to throw in their\nShells, half a dozen of which bursting with considerable Damage, and the\nSlaughter of several Men, they thought to shelter themselves in the\nTown, but the Inhabitants fearing the Enemy's entering with them, shut\nthe Gates against both, so that the Blacks of _North_'s Army,\nnotwithstanding all the Whites could do to the contrary, made a great\nSlaughter; however, they saved some, whom they sent Prisoners to the\nCamp, desiring, at the same Time, a Supply of Powder to make a Petarde.\nIn the mean while the Enemy from the Town threw a prodigious Quantity of\nDarts, which the Besiegers received upon their Shields, at least, the\ngreater Part.\nThe Town was again summon'd, but they refus'd to surrender, wherefore,\nthey were obliged to shelter themselves as well as they could, and\nexpect the Powder from the Camp; tho' in the mean while, the small Shot\nfrom without being warmly plied, made the throwing Darts from the Town\nless frequent, for none could shew his Head but with the greatest\nDanger.\nWhen the Powder came, they cut down and hollowed a Tree, which they\nfilled with Powder, and plugg'd up very tight, and under the Protection\nof their Shields and Muskets got it to the Gate, under which they dug a\nHole large enough to receive it, then setting Fire to the Fuze, it burst\nwith a terrible Crack, tore their Gate to Shatters, and left an open\nPassage, which the Besiegers, who had been join'd with 500 more Blacks,\nwho came up with the Powder, enter'd, and began a very great Slaughter;\nthe Whites protected all they could who submitted, but notwithstanding\ntheir Diligence, the Town was strew'd with dead and dying Men. At length\nwhat with being tir'd, and what with Persuasion, the Slaughter ceas'd,\nthe Town was reduced to Ashes, and the Conquerors return'd to the Camp\nwith 3000 Prisoners, whom his Allies led to their own Quarters, where\ncalling out, the old Women, Children, and useless Slaves, they sent them\nto _North_, as if by these, they thought themselves releas'd from the\nPromise made to induce his Assistance.\nWhen _North_ saw the Dishonesty of these People, he sent for their\nPrince, and told him, 'According to Agreement all the Slaves belong'd to\nhim; nay, according to Justice he alone had a Right to them, since he\ndespair'd of taking the Town, so far as to dissuade his besieging it;\nand that he not only owed to him their Success, but even the Safety of\nhis Army, and all the Plunder they should make in the Prosecution of the\nWar, for Reasons already given, and by himself allow'd to be good. That\nhe thought he had allied himself with a People of Integrity, but he was\nsorry to say, he found himself quite mistaken in his Opinion, since they\nwere so far from making good their Treaty; that they sent him out of the\nSlaves taken, instead of all, those only whom they knew not what to do\nwith; that they must not imagine him so blind as not to perceive how\ndisingenuously he was dealt with; or that he wanted either Strength or\nResolution to resent the Usage.'\nHe then ask'd what was become of a Number of young and handsome Women he\nhad seen among the Captives?\nThe Prince answer'd, 'That those he enquired after were his and his\nCountrymens Relations, and as such they could not consent to, nor could\nhe require their being made Slaves.'\nThis Answer made, the Chief left him; as it was delivered in a pretty\nhaughty Tone, it did not a little nettle both _North_ and his Comrades;\nthe latter were for immediately doing themselves Justice, but the former\nbegg'd they would have Patience and rely on him; they followed his\nAdvice, and he sent an Interpreter, who privately enquired among the\nWomen what Relation they had to the People of the River; the Prisoners\nanswered, that some of their Forefathers had inter-married with that\nNation.\nI must here take Notice, that notwithstanding the Inhabitants of\n_Madagascar_ have but one Language which is common to the whole Island,\nthe Difference of the Dialect in different Nations makes it very\ndifficult for any but the Natives, or those who have been a great many\nYears (more than _North_ and his Companions had been) among them to\nunderstand them perfectly, which is the Reason he made use of an\nInterpreter, as well between him and the Chief, as between the Slaves\nand him.\nWhen he had received this Answer from the Prisoners, he went to the\nPrince, and told him, 'It was very odd he should make War on his\nRelations, however, he should keep them since he declared them such,\ntill he could prove his Right better than the Prince could his Nearness\nof Blood; that as he had once taken them, he would try if he could not\nsupport the Justice of his Claim, and bid him therefore be upon his\nGuard, for he openly declared, he was no longer the Ally, but the\nprofess'd Enemy of faithless People.'\nSaying this, he and his Blacks separated themselves from the\n_Mangorians_, and _North_ divided them into Companies, with his White\nMen at the Head of each, and order'd them to fire Ball over the Heads of\ntheir late Allies; the first Volley was a prodigious Astonishment to the\n_Mangorians_, several of whom ran away, but _North_ firing two more\nimmediately, and marching up to them, brought the Prince and the Head\nOfficers of his Army to him, crawling on all four; they (as the Custom\nof shewing the greatest Submission is among them) kiss'd the Feet of the\nWhites, and begg'd they would continue their Friendship, and dispose of\nevery Thing as they thought proper.\n_North_ told him, 'Deceit was the Sign of a mean and coward Soul; that\nhad he, the Prince, thought too considerable, what, however, was justly\nhis Due, because not only promised to, but taken by him, he ought to\nhave expostulated with him, _North_, and have told him his Sentiments,\nwhich might have, it was possible, made no Division, for neither he nor\nhis Men were greedy or unreasonable; but as the Prince had not the\nCourage publickly to claim the Slaves, he would have basely stolen them\nby false Pretences of Kindred, it was a Sign he did not think such Claim\njustifiable, as certainly it was not, for all his Captains could witness\ntheir Prince had agreed the Prisoners taken should be given to the\nWhites, and his Companions, a sufficient Title, to mention no other.\nThat he had resolved to shew them, by a severe Chastisement, the\nAbhorrence those of his Colour have to Ingratitude and Deceit, and what\nDifference there was in fighting on the Ground of Justice, and the\nsupporting Wrong and Injury; but as they acknowledg'd their Error, he\nshould not only forgive but forget what was past, provided no new\nTreachery, in his Return, which he resolved upon, refresh'd his Memory.'\nHe then order'd them to bring all the Slaves, and they punctually\ncomplied without Reply.\n_North_ chose out the finest and ablest among them, and dividing the\nwhole Number of Prisoners into two equal Bands, he kept that in which he\nhad placed the chosen Slaves, and sent the other to the Prince, telling\nhim, 'tho' neither Fraud nor Compulsion could wring a Slave from him,\nyet Justice, as some of his Troops had shared the Danger, and a generous\nTemper, had sent him that Present, which was half the Spoil; tho' he\ncould not think of going any farther on with the War, that he ought to\ncontent himself with the taking a Town they thought impregnable, and\nblame his own Conduct, if he should continue in the Field, and hereafter\nfind the Want of his Assistance.'\nThe Prince and his People admired the Penetration, Bravery, and\nGenerosity of the Whites, and sent them Word, 'He was more obliged to\nthem for the Lesson they had taught him by their Practice, than for the\nSlaves they had presented him, tho' he esteem'd the Present as he ought.\nThat for the future he should have an Abhorrence from every mean Action,\nsince he had learned from them the Beauty of a candid open Procedure. At\nthe same Time he thank'd him for the Present, and the not suffering his\nResentment to go farther than the frightning him into his Duty; for he\nwas sensible his Balls were not fir'd over their Heads, but by Orders\nproceeding from the Humanity of the Whites, who, he observed, tender\nover the Lives of their Enemies, contrary to the Custom of his\nCountrymen, who give Quarter to none, the Females and Infants excepted,\nthat there may hereafter be none to take Revenge; he begg'd, that he\nwould suffer their Submission to get the better of his Design to\ndepart.' This could not prevail, the Whites and their Friends, who came\nwith them, turn'd their Faces towards home, taking their Slaves and\nCattle with them; tho' the _Mangorians_ were sensibly touch'd at the\nObstinacy of _North_'s Resolution, yet they parted very amicably.\nAs the Whites were returning home with their Company, they fell in with\nanother Nation, the _Timouses_, whose Prince join'd _North_, with 500\nMen, and swore a strict Amity with him and his Crew.\nThe Ceremony used among the Natives, as it is uncommon, so an Account of\nit may, perhaps, be agreeable to my Readers. The Parties, who swear to\neach other, interweave their Toes and Fingers, so that they must\nnecessarily sit very close to each other. When they have thus knit their\nHands and Feet, they reciprocally swear to do each other all friendly\nOffices, to be a Friend or Enemy to the Friend or Enemy of the Party to\nwhom they swear; and if they falsify the Oath they make, they imprecate\nseveral Curses on themselves, as may they fall by the Lance, be devoured\nby the Alligator, or struck dead by the Hand of God; then an Assistant\nscarifies each of the contracting Parties on the Chest, and wiping up\nthe Blood with a Piece of Bread, gives this bloody Bread to each of them\nto eat, that is, each eats the Blood of the other; and this Oath whether\nit be with equal Parties, or with a Prince and his Subject, where the\none promises Protection, and the other Obedience (which was the Nature\nof that taken between _North_ and this Prince) is look'd upon\ninviolable, and they have few Examples of its being broken; but where\nany has been wicked enough to violate this solemn Oath, they say, they\nhave been ever punish'd according to their Imprecations.\nAs this Prince had War with powerful Neighbours, he left his Country,\ntaking with him all his great Men, Wives, and Relations, and with a\nCompany of about 500 fighting Men, followed _North_, and settled by him,\nwhere he staid two Years, the Time _North_ staid; during this Space,\nbeing supplied with Arms, Powder, and several Natives by Captain\n_North_, he made several Inroads into his Enemies Countries, and made\nall he conquer'd, swear Allegiance to Capt. _North_.\nAt the Expiration of two Years, Captain _Halsey_ came in with a\nBrigantine, as is said in the Life of Captain _White_.\nThis Crew having made a broken Voyage were discontented with their\nCaptain, and desired _North_ to take the Command upon him; but he\ndeclined it, saying, _Halsey_ was every Way as capable, and that they\nought not to depose a Man, whom they could not tax with either Want of\nCourage or Conduct; and for his Part, he would never take the Command\nfrom any who did not justly merit to be turn'd out, which was not\n_Halsey_'s Case.\nThe Crew were not, however, satisfied, and they made the same Offer to\n_White_, but by _North_'s Industry, they were, at last, prevail'd on to\ncontinue their old Commander; and as _North_ and his Companions had\nexpended their Money in the settling their Plantations, and wanted\nCloaths, the former, therefore, accepted of the Quarter-Master's Post\nunder _Halsey_, and the others went in the Capacity of private Gentlemen\nAdventurers, I mean plain foremast Men, as may be gathered in the Life\nof that Pyrate, to which I refer for an Account of the Expedition they\nmade in the _Red Seas_, beginning at Page 113. Captain _Halsey_ on board\na Prize left _North_ to command the Brigantine they set out in.\nThe two Commanders were separated by a Storm, but both made for\n_Madagascar_; _Halsey_ got to _Ambonavoula_, but _North_ fell in with\n_Maratan_, where, finding the Brigantine was very much worm eaten, and\nmade a great Deal of Water, with one Consent they took ashore all their\nGoods, and laid up their Vessel.\nThey were all very well received; the King being then at War with his\nBrother, _North_ prevail'd on his Majesty's Sister to pass her solitary\nHours with him; at the King's Return, having defeated his Brother, he\nwas very much incens'd against _North_, for being so free with the Royal\nFamily, and resolved to fine him 200 Sequins for the Affront done to his\nillustrious House; but _North_ having some Inkling of his Design,\npacified him, by making a Present of one hundred.\nThe Pyrates continued here a whole Year, when being desirous to go to\n_Ambonavoula_, they ask'd the King's Assistance to build a Boat, and he\nfor 1000 Dollars, set Negroes to work, under the Directions of Captain\n_North_, and a Vessel of 15 Tons was set up and launch'd with great\nDispatch.\nIn this Boat they went to a River, called _Manangaro_, thirty Leagues to\nthe Northward of _Maratan_: Here some of their Comrades came to them in\na Boat belonging to the _Scotch_ Ship _Neptune_, and help'd to transport\ntheir Goods to _Ambonavoula_, where he had before settled, and had a\nWoman and three Children.\nHe had not been long return'd before his neighbouring Natives reported,\nthat the _Timouses_, who had followed him from the Southward, had a\nDesign to rebel against, and murder him and the other Whites, which\ngiving too easy Credit to, he made War upon, and drove these poor People\nout of the Country.\nSome Time after he built a Sloop, and went to _Antonguil_, where he\npurchas'd 90 Slaves, and took in the _Scots_ Supercargo, Mr. _George\nCrookshank_, with a Design to carry him to _Mascarenas_; but all his\nComrades were against it, saying, when he got to _Europe_ he would prove\ntheir Destruction. _North_ answered, nothing could be more cruel, after\nthey had taken the greater Part of what the poor Gentleman had, than to\nkeep him from his Country, Family, and Friends; for his Part were he his\nPrisoner, he should not ask their Consents in doing an Act of Humanity,\nand the only one they were able towards making him some Reparation,\nsince they could not return his Goods, which were parcel'd out into so\nmany Shares.\nOn _North_'s saying thus much, they put the Affair in Question to the\nVote, and there being many who had Obligations to _North_, and whom he\ninfluenced in Favour of the Supercargo, 48 out of 54 voted for the\ndischarging him. _North_ having gained this Point, the Pyrates ask'd if\nhe also designed to take with him one _J. B._ a great Favourite of his,\nwho had been Midship Man on board the _Neptune_ (a young _Scotch_ Man,\nwho was a good Artist, a thorough Seaman, and very capable of taking on\nhim the Command in any Voyage) he answered there was a Necessity of\ntaking him, since he should want his Assistance in the Voyage; as he\ndepended on his Knowledge, his Companions said _J. B._ would certainly\ngive him the Slip, which would be a Loss to them all, as he was an\nArtist, and a clean hail young Fellow, and therefore his being detained\nwas necessary to their common Good. To this _North_ answered, his own\nSecurity would oblige his taking Care that he should not get from him,\nsince no other on board was capable to find the Way back to\n_Ambonavoula_.\nHe went to _Mascarenas_, where the Supercargo and his Negroe were put on\nShore with all the Money he had, which was about 1600 Dollars; for when\nthe Pyrates made Prize of the _Neptune_, in the Manner already said,\nthey took none of the Money, they themselves had before paid for\nLiquors, _&c._ either from the Captain, Supercargo, or any other on\nboard; for that, they look'd upon it a base, as well as dishonest\nAction, but for the Ship and remaining Part of the Cargo, they had a\nfair Title to, _viz._ they wanted both. It is true, they made the\nMerchants of the _Greyhound_ refund what Money they had taken; but\nbefore the Reader taxes them with Injustice, and acting against the\nabove Maxim, let him consider Circumstances, and call to Mind the whole\nStory.\nThey did not take that Ship, on the contrary, they sent her away well\nvictualled, and provided with Necessaries for her Voyage; and, I hope,\nit will be allow'd, they had a lawful Claim to her, as she belong'd to\nan Enemy, and came into a Port of theirs, without a Pass: Again, they\ndid not rob these Merchants of the Money they had before laid out with\nthem, but took it in Payment for the Liquors they had put on board the\n_Greyhound_, out of the _Neptune_, which the Merchants themselves, if\nthey had any Honesty, could not expect for nothing: But let us suppose\nthey had taken this Money by Force, and not traded for it on the fair\nFoot, as its evident they did; yet, was it no more than an Act of\nJustice, such as might reasonably be expected from the Probity of these\nGentlemen, who never suffer an ill Action to go unpunished: And no Body\ncan justify the Proceedings of those Merchants who advised the seizing\nthe _Scots_ Ship. But to return.\n_North_ would not suffer _J. B._ to go ashore; however, to make him\namends for his Confinement, he gave him four Negroes, whom he sold for\n300 Dollars, and took Care that he should live plentifully and well on\nboard. _North_'s Business, at this Island, was to get Leave to carry his\nChildren there to be educated in the Christian Faith, which after some\nrich Presents made the Governor, he obtained, and return'd to\n_Madagascar_. In the Voyage, as _J. B._ was very greatly in his Favour,\nand his Confident, he told him, his Design was to leave his Children at\n_Mascarenas_, and place Fortunes for them in the Hands of some honest\nPriest, who would give them a Christian Education (for he thought it\nbetter to have them Papists, than not Christians) and would then go back\nto _Maratan_, and endeavour, by his Penitence, to make Attonement for\nhis former Life, and never more go off the Island on any Account; that\nhe would give his Sloop to _J. B._ with two hundred Dollars, that he\nmight find some Means to return home, since he very wisely refus'd to\njoin with the Pyrates.\nWhen he came on the _Madagascar_ Coast, he heard a _French_ Ship had\ntouch'd there, and left some Men behind her; upon which Account, _North_\nran to the Southward 100 Leagues out of his Way, to enquire after and\nassist these People: A Piece of Humanity which ought not to be pass'd by\nin Silence, for it may shame not a few among us who carry a Face of\nReligion, and act with greater Barbarity than those whom we hunt and\ndestroy as a Nusance to the World, and a Scandal to the Name of Man. If\nany thinks this Reflection severe, let him examine into the Number of\nThousands who are perishing in Goals, by the Cruelty of Creditors,\nsensible of their Inability to pay: Let him take a View of the Miseries\nwhich reign in those Tombs of the Living, let him enquire into the\nNumber of those who are yearly starved to Death, to gratify an\nimplacable Spirit, and then, if he can, clear the _English_ Laws, which\nallow a Creditor to punish an unfortunate Man, for his being so, with\nthe most cruel of all invented Deaths, that of Famine; let him, I say,\nclear them from the Imputation of Barbarity. I beg Pardon for this\nDigression, which my Concern for the _English_ Character, for this only\nReason sunk among Foreigners forced me into.\n_North_ found but one Man, whom he took home with him, cloathed and\nmaintained him. When he came back to _Ambonavoula_, he found the Country\nall in an Uproar, and the Rest of his Companions preparing for a War\nwith the Natives, but his Arrival restor'd their former Quiet. After\nfour Months Stay at home, he fitted his Sloop to go out and purchase\nSlaves at _Antonguil_; but finding few there to his Mind, for in two\nMonths he bought but forty, he return'd to his Settlement. He design'd\nnow to carry his Children to _Mascarenas_, but dissuaded on Account of\nthe Season, by _J. B._ he went to _Methelage_ on the West Side of the\nIsland, to trade for Samsams.\nHaving purchas'd a considerable Quantity of Samsams he went to\n_Johanna_, and thence to _Mayotta_, return'd again to _Madagascar_, but\nnot being able to get round the North End, on Account of the Current, he\nput for _Mayotta_ again; on the West Side of this Island put into a\nPort, called _Sorez_, where, some Time before, came a Ship from\n_England_ to trade, commanded by one _Price_, who going ashore with his\nDoctor was detained (as was also his Boat's Crew) till he redeem'd\nhimself and Surgeon, with 200 Barrels of Powder and 1000 Small Arms; but\nwas forced to leave his Boat's Crew, not having wherewithal to ransom\nthem, tho' the Demand was only two Small Arms for each Man. These poor\nCreatures were afterwards sold to the _Arabians_; in Revenge _North_ and\nhis Crew landed, burnt a large Town, and did all the Damage they could.\nFrom _Mayotta_ he went again to _Madagascar_, where a King of his\nAcquaintance told him, the Whites and Natives were at War at\n_Ambonavoula_; he bought thirty Slaves, refreshed his Crew, and went\nhome. On the News of his Arrival the Natives sent to conclude a Peace,\nbut he would not listen to them; on the contrary, rais'd an Army, burnt\na Number of Towns, and took a great many Prisoners.\nThis Success brought the Natives to sue in a very humble Manner for a\nCessation of Arms, that a general Peace might follow: This he agreed to\nabout four Months after his Arrival.\nHis Enemies, having now the Opportunity, corrupted some of his\nneighbouring Natives, and in the Night surprized and murder'd him in his\nBed. His Comrades, however, being alarmed, took to their Arms, drove the\ntreacherous Multitude before them with great Slaughter; and to revenge\n_North_'s Death continued the War seven Years, in which Time they became\nMasters of all the Country round, and drove out all who did not swear\nAllegiance to them.\n_North_ had his Will lying by him, which directed _J. B._ to carry his\nChildren to _Mascarenas_, in his Sloop which he left to the said _J. B._\nwho was at the Charge to fit her up, and laid out the greater Part of\nthe Money _North_ bequeathed him; but the Pyrates would not suffer him\nto stir while the Wars lasted, fearing he would not return, having never\njoin'd them in any Pyracies; and therefore, by one Consent, setting Fire\nto the Sloop, they detained him several Years, if he is not still there.\n                   BOOKS printed for _Tho. Woodward_,\n             at the Half-moon over against St. _Dunstan_'s\n   The Fourth Edition of the First Volume of _The History of the\n   Pyrates_, &c.\n   The _Roman_ History; with Notes Historical, Geographical and\n   Critical. Illustrated with Maps, Copper Plates, and a great\n   Number of authentick Medals. Done into _English_ from the\n   Original _French_ of the Reverend Fathers _Catrou_ and\n   _Rouille_, and corrected with their Approbation. To which\n   is prefixed, A new and connected Summary of the Work.\n   The History of _Japan_; giving an Account of the ancient and\n   present State and Government of that Empire; of its Temples,\n   Palaces, Castles, and other Buildings; of its Metals,\n   Minerals, Trees, Plants and Fishes; of the Chronology and\n   Succession of the Emperors, Ecclesiastical and Secular; of the\n   original Descent, Religion, Customs, and Manufactures of the\n   Natives; and of their Trade and Commerce with the _Dutch_\n   and _Chinese_. Together with a Description of the Kingdom of\n   _Siam_. Written in _High Dutch_, by _Egelbertus Kempfer_, M.\n   D. Physician to the _Dutch_ Embassy to the Emperor's Court;\n   and translated from his Original Manuscript, by _J. G.\n   Scheuchzer_, F. R. S. and a Member of the College of\n   Physicians, London; with the Life of the Author, and an\n   Introduction. To which is added, A Journal of a Voyage to\n   _Japan_, made by the _English_, in the Year 1673. Illustrated\n   with many Copper Plates in 2 Vols. Folio.\n   The History of the Conquest of _Mexico_ by the _Spaniards_;\n   adorned with Cuts, engraved by the best Hands. The Head of\n   _Cortez_ (done from a Painting of _Titian_) by Mr. _Vertue_.\n   Translated from the Original _Spanish_ of _Don Antonio de\n   Solis_, Secretary and Historiographer to his Catholick\n   Majesty.\n   A Collection of several Tracts of the Right Honourable\n   _Edward_ Earl of _Clarendon_, Author of the History of the\n   Rebellion and Civil Wars of _England_, viz. I. A Discourse by\n   Way of Vindication of himself, from the Charge of High\n   Treason brought against him by the House of Commons. II.\n   Reflections upon several Christian Duties, divine and moral,\n   by Way of Essays. 1. Humane Nature. 2. Of Life. 3. Reflections\n   upon the Happiness which we enjoy in and from our selves. 4.\n   Of impudent Delight in Wickedness. 5. Of Drunkenness. 6. Of\n   Envy. 7. Of Pride. 8. Of Anger. 9. Of Patience in Adversity.\n   10. Of Contempt of Death, and the best providing for it. 11.\n   Of Friendship. 12. Of Counsel and Conversation. 13. Of\n   Promises. 14. Of Liberty. 15. Of Industry. 16. Of Sickness.\n   17. Of Repentance. 18. Of Conscience. 19. Of an active, and of\n   a contemplative Life, and when and why the one ought to be\n   preferr'd to the other. 20. Of War. 21. Of Peace. 22. Of\n   Sacrilege. 23. A Discourse of the Reverence due to Antiquity.\n   24. A Discourse against multiplying Controversies by insisting\n   upon Particulars not necessary to the Point in Debate. 25. A\n   Dialogue concerning the Want of Respect due to Age. 26. A\n   Dialogue concerning Education, _&c._ 27. Contemplations and\n   Reflections upon the Psalms of _David_, with Devotions\n   applicable to the Trouble of the Times.\n   _N. B._ None of these Pieces were ever printed before, and the\n   Original Manuscript in his Lordship's Hand-writing may be seen\n   at _T. Woodward_'s.\n   A New System of Agriculture: Being a Compleat Body of\n   Husbandry and Gardening, in all the Parts of them, _viz._\n   Husbandry in the Field, and its Improvements. Of Forrest and\n   Timber Trees, great and small, with Ever Greens and\n   Flowering Shrubs, _&c._ Of the Fruit Garden. Of the Kitchen\n   Garden. Of the Flower Garden. In Five Books. Containing all\n   the best and latest, as well as many new Improvements;\n   useful to the Husbandman, Grasier, Planter, Gardiner and\n   Florist. Wherein are interspersed many curious Observations on\n   Vegetation, on the Diseases of Trees, and the general\n   Annoyances to Vegetables, and their probable Cures. As also, A\n   Particular Account of the famous Silphium of the Ancients. By\n   _John Lawrence_, M. A. Rector of _Bishops Weremouth_ in the\n   Bishoprick of _Durham_, and Prebendary of the Church of\n   _Sarum_.\n   The Life and surprizing Adventures of _Robinson Crusoe_, of\n   _York_, Mariner, who lived 28 Years all alone in an\n   uninhabited Island, on the Coast of _America_, near the Mouth\n   of the River _Oroonoque_, having been cast on Shore by\n   Shipwreck, wherein all the Men perished but Himself. With\n   an Account how he was, at last, as strangely delivered by\n   Pyrates. Written by Himself. The Seventh Edition, adorn'd with\n   Cuts, in 2 Vols.\n   The wise and ingenious Companion, _French_ and _English_;\n   being a Collection of the Wit of the illustrious Persons, both\n   ancient and modern: Containing their wise Sayings, noble\n   Sentiments, witty Repartees, Jests and pleasant Adventures.\n   The 4th Edition, with Corrections and great Improvements, for\n   the Use of Schools. By Mr. _Boyer_, Author of the Royal\n   Dictionary.\nThe original text had in four places white spaces of the size of\napproximately one word, left out for unknown reasons. These have been\nmarked by \"......\".\nOn page 289, the name of Mary Stead appears instead of Anne Bonny. This\nhas been preserved as in the original.\nOn page 308, George Bendal is erroneously listed twice in a list of nine\nmen, making it ten names in total. This has remained uncorrected.\nOn page 337, an opening bracket is never closed.\nThe original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical\nerrors were silently corrected. Further careful corrections are listed\nhere (before/after):\n   ... to St. Mary's; Captain Mosson and his Crew cut off; the two ...\n   ... to St. Mary's; Captain Misson and his Crew cut off; the two ...\n   ... They staid here all the Mousson Time, which ...\n   ... They staid here all the Monsoon Time, which ...\n   ... they sail'd to St. Mary's, where Captain Mosson's ...\n   ... they sail'd to St. Mary's, where Captain Misson's ...\n   ... he wanting a Boom, took out the Mainmost of ...\n   ... he wanting a Boom, took out the Mainmast of ...\n   ... Company, to go to the Coast of Angela for ...\n   ... Company, to go to the Coast of Angola for ...\n   ... In the taking this Ship, the Captain and his chief ...\n   ... In the taking of this Ship, the Captain and his chief ...\n   ... Man saw they would take away his Ship, he told ...\n   ... Man saw they would take away his Ship, he sold ...\n   ... Side the Island, the Principalities are mostly reduced ...\n   ... Side of the Island, the Principalities are mostly reduced ...\n   ... either of their Compations, or of the Natives. ...\n   ... either of their Companions, or of the Natives. ...", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The History of the Pyrates. Vol. II\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Linda Cantoni, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. In\nmemory of Steven Gibbs (1938-2009).\n[Transcriber's Note: This e-book, a pamphlet by Daniel Defoe, was\noriginally published in 1712, and was prepared from _The Novels and\nMiscellaneous Works of Daniel De Foe_, vol. 6 (London: Henry G. Bohn,\n1855). Archaic spellings have been retained as they appear in the\noriginal, and obvious printer errors have been corrected without\nnote.]\nA Seasonable\nWARNING\nAnd CAUTION\nAgainst the\nINSINUATIONS\nOf _Papists_ and _Jacobites_\nIn Favour of the\nPRETENDER.\nBeing a LETTER from an _ENGLISHMAN_ at the Court of _HANOVER_.\n_And thou shalt teach these Words diligently unto thy Children, and\nshalt talk of them when thou sittest in thy House, and when thou\nwalkest by the Way._ Deut. vi. 7.\n_And what thou seest write in a Book._ Rev. i. 11.\n_LONDON_: Printed for _J. Baker_, at the _Black-Boy_ in\n_Pater-Noster-Row_. 1712.\nA SEASONABLE\nWARNING AND CAUTION\nAGAINST THE\nINSINUATIONS OF PAPISTS AND JACOBITES IN FAVOUR OF THE PRETENDER.\nWhy how now, England! what ailest thee now? What evil spirit now\npossesseth thee! O thou nation famous for espousing religion, and\ndefending liberty; eminent in all ages for pulling down tyrants,[1]\nand adhering steadily to the fundamentals of thy own constitution:[2]\nthat has not only secured thy own rights, and handed them down\nunimpaired to every succeeding age, but has been the sanctuary of\nother oppressed nations;[3] the strong protector of injured subjects\nagainst the lawless invasion of oppressing tyrants.\n[Footnote 1: Edward II., Richard II., Richard III., James II.]\n[Footnote 2: In the several barons' wars in the reign of King Stephen,\nKing John, &c.]\n[Footnote 3: Especially of the persecuted protestants in the Low\nCountries, in Queen Elizabeth.]\nTo thee the oppressed protestants of France owed, for some ages ago,\nthe comfort of being powerfully supported, while their own king,[4]\nwheedled by the lustre of a crown, became apostate, and laid the\nfoundation of their ruin among themselves; in thee their posterity[5]\nfind a refuge, and flourish in thy wealth and trade, when religion and\nliberty find no more place in their own country.\n[Footnote 4: Henry IV., who turned papist, and with much difficulty\ngranted liberty to his protestant subjects by the edict of Nantes.]\n[Footnote 5: The French refugees, who being received here, are grown\nrich and wealthy by our trade.]\nTo thee the distressed Belgii[6] owe the powerful assistance by which\nthey took up arms in defence of liberty and religion, against Spanish\ncruelty, the perfidious tyranny of their kings, and the rage of the\nbloody Duke d'Alva.\n[Footnote 6: The Flemings, when threatened with the inquisition from\nSpain, under the reign of Philip II.]\nFrom thee the confederate Hollanders[7] received encouragement to join\nin that indissoluble union which has since reduced the invincible\npower of the Spaniards, and from whence has been raised the most\nflourishing commonwealth in the world.\n[Footnote 7: Under William Henry, the first Prince of Orange, who\nformed the revolt of the Dutch provinces, and laid the foundation of\nthe States General and their commonwealth.]\nBy thy assistance they are become the bulwark of the protestant\nreligion, and of the liberties of Europe; and have many times since\ngratefully employed that force in thy behalf; and, by their help,\nthou, who first gavest them liberty, hast more than once rescued and\npreserved thy own.\nTo thee the present protestant nations[8] of Europe owe their being at\nthis day freed from the just apprehensions of the growing greatness of\nFrance; and to thy power, when acting by the glorious protector of thy\nliberty, King William, is the whole Christian world indebted for\ndepriving the French tyrant of the hopes and prospect of universal\nmonarchy.\n[Footnote 8: The circles of Swabia and Franconia, the Palatinate, and\nthe countries of Hessia, Wirtemberg, and others.]\nTo thy blood, thy treasure, the conduct of thy generals, and the\nvigour of thy councils, are due, the glory, the fame, the praises, and\nthe advantages of twenty years' war, for the establishing and\nrestoring the liberty and religion of Europe.\nWhen posterity shall inquire into the particulars of this long and\nbloody war; the battles, sieges, and stupendous marches of armies,\nwhich, as well with loss as with victory, have been the subject of thy\nhistory; it will for ever be frequent in their mouths; HERE the\nBritish troops, fighting with dreadful fury, and their usual\nconstancy, shed their blood in defence of the protestant cause, and\nleft a bloody victory to God's enemies and their own; as at Steenkirk,\nLanden, Camaret, Almanza, Brihenga, and the like: or, HERE the British\ntroops, with their usual valour, carried all before them, and\nconquered in behalf of the protestant interest, and Europe's\nliberties; as at Blenheim, Ramilies, Barcelona, Oudenard, Sarragossa,\nBlaregnies, &c. Here the British navies triumphed over French\ngreatness; as at Cherburgh, La Hogue, Gibraltar, &c. There their land\nforces reduced the most impregnable fortresses; as at Namur, Lisle,\nMenin, Tournay, &c.\nAnd wherefore has all this English and British blood been spilt?\nWherefore thy nation exhausted; thy trade sunk and interrupted; thy\nveins opened? Why hast thou struggled thus long, and with so much\nvigour, as well with French tyranny abroad, as popish factions at\nhome, but to preserve entire the religion and liberties of Europe, and\nparticularly of this nation, and to preserve our posterity from\nslavery and idolatry? Principles truly noble, worthy a nation's blood\nto protect, and worthy a nation's treasure to save.\nBut what has all this been for? And to what intent and purpose was all\nthis zeal, if you will sink under the ruin of the very fabric ye have\npulled down? If ye will give up the cause after ye have gained the\nadvantage, and yield yourselves up after you have been delivered; to\nwhat purpose then has all this been done? Why all the money expended?\nWhy all this blood spilt? To what end is France said to be reduced,\nand peace now concluded, if the same popery, the same tyranny, the\nsame arbitrary methods of government shall be received among you\nagain? Sure your posterity will stand amazed to consider how lavish\nthis age has been of their money, and their blood, and to how little\npurpose; since no age since the creation of the world can show us a\ntime when ever any nation spent so much blood and treasure to end just\nwhere they begun: as, if the hearts of our enemies prevail, we are\nlike to do.\nLet us reason a little together on these things, and let us inquire a\nlittle, why, and for what reason Britain, so lately the glory of\nEurope; so lately the terror of France, the bulwark of religion, and\nthe destroyer of popery, should be brought to be the gazing-stock of\nthe world? And why is it that her neighbours expect every hour to hear\nthat she is going back to Egypt, and having given up her liberty, has\nmade it her own choice to submit to the stripes of her taskmasters,\nand make bricks without straw.\nWe that are Englishmen, and live from home among the protestants of\nother nations, cannot but be sensible of this alteration, and we bear\nthe reproaches of those who speak freely of the unhappy change which\nappears in the temper of our countrymen at home. It is astonishing to\nall the world to hear that the common people of England should be\nturned from the most rivetted aversions, to a coldness and\nindifferency in matters of popery and the pretender: that they, who\nwith so unanimous a resolution deposed the late King James, as well\nfor his invasions of their liberty as of their religion; and who with\nsuch marks of contempt drove him and his pretended progeny out of the\nnation, should without any visible alteration of circumstances, be\ndrawn in to favour the return of that race with all the certain\nadditions of popish principles in religion; French principles in\ngovernment; revenge for family injuries; restoration of abdicated and\nimpoverished votaries; and the certain support of a party at home,\nwhose fortunes and losses must be restored and repaired out of the\nruins of their country's liberties.\nTo what purpose was the revolution? Why did you mock yourselves at so\nvast an expense? Why did you cry in your oppressions to God and the\nPrince of Orange to deliver you? Why did you rise as one man against\nKing James and his popish adherents? Why was your fury so great, and\nyour opposition so universal, that although he had a good army of\nveteran, disciplined troops, and a powerful assistance from France\nready to fall in and join him, yet they durst not, when put all\ntogether, venture to look you in the face, but fled like darkness\nbefore the sun, like guilt before the sword of justice; or as a\nmurderer from the avenger of blood? Was it all, that you might the\nbetter weaken yourselves by ages of war, and they might return again,\nand bind you like Samson, when your strength was departed?\nWhen this was done, why did ye mock God with a thanksgiving,[9] and\nbanter the world with your pretended praises to heaven for your\ndeliverance? Why, when you appeared by your representatives in\nconvention and in parliament, did you make so many fast days,[10] and\ndays of prayer for the success of the arms you took up, and the war\nyou carried on for the finishing and securing this great work, called\nthe pulling down of popery? Was it all, that after having spent twenty\nyears of war, and a sea of blood, ruined trade, exhausted your\ntreasure, and entailed vast debts on your posterity; you should calmly\nopen your doors to the fugitives you had found out, and let in again\nthe popish tyranny you had driven away?\n[Footnote 9: The Thanksgiving for the Revolution.]\n[Footnote 10: Monthly fasts appointed the first Wednesday of every\nmonth during the war in King William's time.]\nFor what reason was it that you presented the crown to your\nbenefactor, called him your deliverer, and made him your king; and\nhaving done so, maintained him upon the throne with so much vigour,\nfought under his banner in so many battles, and with so great\nanimosity, and professed to stand by him against all his enemies at\nhome and abroad? Why is he in so many addresses[11] styled the rescuer\nof this nation from popery and slavery? Why in so many acts of\nparliament[12] is he called the great deliverer of the nation? Why in\nso many sermons preached to men, and prayers put up to God, has he the\ntitle of \"the instrument blessed by heaven to free these nations from\npopery and arbitrary government?\" Was all this done, that your\nposterity being brought back into the bondage their fathers were\ndelivered from, should with the same alacrity call him an invader, an\nusurper, a parricide, and their fathers, rebels and revolters?\n[Footnote 11: Vid. The Collection of Addresses in King William's\nreign.]\n[Footnote 12: Act for Offering the Crown; The Claim of Right; Act for\nSecurity of his Majesty's Person and Government, &c.]\nWhy was the crown entailed by so many provisoes, reserves, and\nlimitations? Why the names of every person that should succeed, so\nexpressly and particularly mentioned and set down?[13] Why so many\nacts of parliament[14] to secure that entail, and punish with death\nthose who should reject or oppose it? Why was the settlement of the\ncrown thought to be of so much consequence to the public good, that\nthe two daughters of King James, the late blessed Queen Mary, and her\npresent royal majesty, thought themselves bound to agree to the same\nfor the safety and peace of their country, though it was in prejudice\nof the right and possession of their own father? Was it all, that the\nreturn of these things might be made upon the people with the greater\nweight, and that posterity might be prejudiced against the memory of\nthe two royal sisters, as accessary to the ruin of their own father?\n[Footnote 13: Vid. The several Prayers ordered to be read in Churches\nupon the occasion of the Fasts in King William's time.]\n[Footnote 14: Vid. The Act of the Settlement, and the Act of the\nUnion; the Act to extinguish the hopes of the Jacobites; and the Act\nfor farther securing her Majesty's Person and Government.]\nWhy was King James and his popish posterity entirely excluded for ever\nfrom enjoying the imperial crown of these realms?[15] Why were so many\nacts of parliament made to extinguish the hopes of his race, and of\ntheir party, and for farther security of her majesty's person and\ngovernment? Why was the settlement of the succession in a protestant\nline made the principal reason of uniting the two kingdoms together?\nAnd why was that union so vigorously opposed by all those that adhered\nto the jacobite interest? Was this to illustrate the return of the\nabdicated line, and by the greatness of the nation's endeavour for\nkeeping out the pretender, to justify his using them accordingly when\nhe comes in?\n[Footnote 15: Vid. The Act of Parliament for settling the Succession\nof the Crown on the illustrious House of Hanover.]\nWhy was the union declared to be unalterable, and, as some say, the\npower thereby taken out of the hands of the British parliament to\nchange the settlement of the crown, or to name any other persons than\nthose of the illustrious house of Hanover to succeed; and, above all,\nwhy was that severest of all oaths, the abjuration, contrived; by\nwhich it is rendered impossible for this nation, upon any pretence\nwhatsoever, to receive the pretender but with the black stigma of an\nabominable perjury? Was this that, with the greater reverence to laws,\nand the greater regard to the solemnity of a national oath, we might\nall turn tail upon our principles, and in defiance of God and the\nlaws, bow our knees to an abjured pretender?\nFor God's sake, Britons, what are you doing? And whither are you\ngoing? To what dreadful precipices are ye hurrying yourselves? What!\nare you selling yourselves for slaves to the French, who you have\nconquered; to popery, which you have reformed from; and to the\npretender, whom you have forsworn? Is this acting like Britons; like\nprotestants, like lovers of liberty? Nay, is it acting like men of\nreasonable souls, and men who have the light of common sense to act\nby?\nThat we may move you, then, to consider a little the grossness and\nabsurdity of what you are doing, dear countrymen, be prevailed upon to\ndebate a little with yourselves the state of your own case, which I\nshall briefly and plainly lay before you, thus:--\nThe government having thought fit, for reasons of state which I have\nno room to speak of in this place, to separate from the confederates,\nas well in the field as in treating with the French, and unhappily, I\ndoubt, to make a separate peace; among the several improvements made\nof this by the enemies of Britain, this is one, viz., to encourage and\nincrease the friends and interest of the pretender, and this they do\nupon several foundations. 1. Upon a supposition, or suggestion rather,\nthat the ministry, because they have not thought fit to carry on the\nwar, are therefore coming so entirely into the interest of France,\nthat they must of necessity comply with the French king's demand of\nrestoring the pretender. 2. Upon a like ill-grounded suggestion that\nthe people of England and Scotland are more inclined to receive the\npretender than they were formerly; in both which suppositions they\ngrossly impose upon you, and yet by both they subtly carry on their\ncrafty designs to delude the more ignorant part of the people of this\nnation, and to prepare them, as they think, for the coming of the\npretender: as appears thus:--\n1. By persuading the common people that the ministry are for the\npretender, they, as far as in them lies, make a breach, a\nmisunderstanding, and lay a foundation of jealousy and distrust\nbetween the people and the government, enraging all those who are\nzealous for the Hanover succession, against the ministers of state,\nand so increasing the dangerous divisions that are among us, the\nclosing and healing whereof is so much the duty and interest of all\nfaithful subjects, that they may the more unanimously and sincerely\njoin together against the pretender and all his adherents.\n2. They intimidate those great numbers of people who, not so much\nacting by principle as example, are unwilling to show themselves in\nany cause which they have reason to fear is declining, and therefore\nact with the less zeal for the true interest, by how much they see, or\nthink they see, the great ones of the nation fall off from it.\n3. By suggesting that the common people of Great Britain are more\ninclined to the pretender than they were formerly, they think they\nbring them really to be so, and encourage all the endeavours of those\nwho labour indefatigably all over the nation to have it so.\nTo undeceive the good people of Britain, therefore, in these things,\ndear countrymen, I beseech you to consider,\n1. That whatever we may dislike of the proceedings of the ministry,\nand of the government, of which this is not the place to speak, there\nis no greater cheat can be put upon you than this is; for, whatever\nthe jacobite party may promise themselves from the ministry, the\nministry do not yet own their measures to tend that way; they do not\nact avowedly for the pretender; they do all things yet upon the\nsupposition of the protestant succession, and carry it as in the\ninterest of the house of Hanover; and to say they are for the\npretender, is to charge them with the greatest treachery and\nhypocrisy, and is such an insolence in the jacobites, as the ministry\nought to show their resentment at them for, and we hope they will do\nso; besides, there is a manifest difference between the fears of\nhonest men, as that the measures of the ministry may encourage the\nfriends of the pretenders and on the other hand, the insolent way of\nthe jacobites claiming the ministry to be acting in their behalf;\nwhile therefore the ministry appear to act under the scheme of the\nHanover succession, whether they are sincere or no, it is a good\nanswer to a jacobite, whatever it is to another, to say, it is an\nunjustifiable assurance, and an affront to the government, to boast of\nthe ministry being in the interest of the pretender.\nIt is also well worthy the consideration of the good people of\nBritain, that at the same time these men would have you believe that\nthe ministers of state are bringing in the pretender, they would also\nhave the ministers of state made believe, that the generality of the\npeople are inclined to receive the pretender; by which double-faced\nfraud they endeavour to restrain you, the people of Britain, from\nappearing against the pretender, for fear of offending the government;\nand to restrain the said government in the same case, for fear of the\npeople.\nAs they go on in these things with too much success, it is a very sad\nconsideration to all true British protestants to find that a party of\nmen among us, who yet call themselves protestants, fall in with them\nin many things, fomenting the divisions and breaches that are among\nus, weakening the constitution, and pursuing such principles as tend\nto destroy our liberties; by whose arts, and by the subtle management\nof which party, the revolution wears every day more and more out of\ndate; the principles of liberty decay; the memory of King William\nsinks in our esteem; the heroic actions of that prince, which were\nonce the just admiration of all the honest people of Great Britain,\nbegin to be lost upon us, and forgotten among us, and to become as a\nmark of infamy to the nation!\nEvery considering protestant cannot but observe with horror, what\nswarms of popish priests from abroad, and jacobite emissaries at home,\nare spread about among us, and busily employed to carry on these\nwicked designs; how in disguise they run up and down the countries,\nmingling themselves in all companies, and in coffee-houses, and\nprivate conversation, endeavouring to insinuate with all possible\nsubtlety, favourable notions of the pretender into the minds of the\npeople, thereby to pave the way, and to prepare you for receiving him;\nsuch as, that he is the lawful son of King James; that he is a\nprotestant in his heart; that he will abjure the errors of popery as\nsoon as he has an opportunity; that the late King William promised to\nprove him a bastard, but never could do it; that it is hard to reject\nhim for what was none of his own fault, and the like.\nAlthough thinking men can and do see through these things, yet, as\nthey are calculated and prepared to deceive the ignorant people in the\ncountry, it is earnestly desired of those who have their eyes open to\nthe said popish delusions, that they would endeavour to undeceive\ntheir brethren and neighbours, and earnestly persuade them not to be\nimposed upon by the jesuitical insinuations of the popish faction,\nfurnishing the poor honest people with just reasons for their adhering\nto the protestant settlement, and full answers to those who go about\nto deceive them: which answers are such as follow:--\n1. It seems absolutely necessary to remind them of the reason of the\nlate revolution; how King James II., by his popish counsellors,\npriests, and jesuits, had laid the foundation of overwhelming all our\nliberties, in an arbitrary, tyrannical government, ruling us without a\nparliament to redress our grievances, and, by a standing army, to\nexecute forcibly his absolute commands; how he had engaged in the\noverthrow of our religion, by undermining the constitution of the\nChurch of England, erecting an arbitrary ecclesiastical commission to\ndispossess our universities, and displace our ministers in every\nparish, and then to establish popery throughout the whole nation.\n2. That in this distress, the whole nation applied themselves to the\nPrince of Orange, whose right to the succession made him justly appear\nas the proper person to assist and relieve this oppressed people;\nwhich prince came over at our invitation, was blessed with success,\nand all the favourers of popery and tyranny sunk at once; King James\nfled with his queen, and that person whom he called his son, and whom\nwe now call justly the pretender.\n3. Concerning the birth of this person, the nobility and gentry of\nEngland who invited over the prince, as may be seen by the memorial\nthey presented to his highness, alleged, that there were violent\npresumptions that he was not born of the queen's body, which, however,\nthey desired to leave to examination in a free parliament; which also\nthe said prince expressed in his declaration, and that he was willing\nto leave the same to a free parliament.\n4. That before a free parliament could be obtained, King James\nwithdrew himself, and carried away his pretended son into the hands of\nthe ancient enemies of this nation, and of our religion, the French,\nthere to be educated in the principles of popery and enmity to this\nhis native country.\nBy which action he not only declined to refer the legitimacy of his\nsaid son to the examination of the parliament, as the Prince of Orange\nhad offered in his said declaration, but made such examination\naltogether useless and impracticable, he himself (King James) not\nowning it to be a legal parliament, and therefore not consenting to\nstand by such examination.\nBy the said abdication, and carrying away his said pretended son into\nthe hands of the French to be educated in popery, &c., he gave the\nparliament of England and Scotland abundant reason for ever to exclude\nthe said King James and his said pretended son from the government of\nthese realms, or from the succession to the same, and made it\nabsolutely necessary for them to do so, if they would secure the\nprotestant religion to themselves and their posterity; and this\nwithout any regard to the doubt whether he was the lawful son of King\nJames or no, since it is inconsistent with the constitution of this\nprotestant nation to be governed by a popish prince.\nSo that there is now no more room to examine whether the said\npretender be the lawful son of King James, or whether he is, or will\nturn to be a protestant, the examination of the legitimacy by\nparliament which was offered by the Prince of Orange in his\ndeclaration, having been declined by his father, and himself having\nbeen delivered up into the hands of the sworn enemies both of our\nreligion, constitution, and nation.\nIf King James would have expected he should be received as his son,\nand succeed to his crowns, he should have suffered his birth to have\nbeen legally determined by the English and Scotch parliament at that\ntime, and have left him in good protestant hands to have been educated\nin the protestant religion, and in the knowledge of the laws and\nconstitutions of his country; in which case it was more than probable,\nhad his birth appeared clear, and his hereditary right just, the\nparliament might have set the crown upon his head, and declared him\nking under the protection of their deliverer, the Prince of Orange:\nbut to talk of it now, when his birth has never been examined or\ncleared up, and while he has been bred up to man's estate in popery,\nand that the worst sort, viz., French popery; and after the parliament\nof the respective kingdoms uniting in one, have by an unalterable,\nindissolvable union, settled and entailed the crown upon another head,\nviz., the present queen, and entailed it after her majesty in the most\nillustrious house of Hanover, the next of blood in a protestant line:\nto talk now of proving the birth of the pretender, and of his abjuring\nhis errors and turning protestant, this is a fraud so absurd and\nridiculous, that we hope the people of Great Britain can never be\nblinded with it.\nEspecially considering the party who talk of these things to us: and\nthis ought to move the good people of Britain to receive the proposals\nof the pretender with indignation; for who are they, dear\nfellow-protestants! that persuade you to these things? Are they not\nthe friends of France and Rome? Do not all the papists join with them?\nDo not all those who hated the revolution, and who long to restore\narbitrary government, join with them?\nWhy, if he will abjure the Romish errors and turn protestant, why, I\nsay, do the papists speak in his favour? Do any sect of religion love\napostates! Those who forsake them and abjure them as heretical and\nerroneous! If they were not well assured that whatever appearing\nchange he may make, he will still retain a secret affection to popery,\nthey could not be rationally supposed to speak in his behalf.\nBut if that is not sufficient, what do they say to you as to his love\nof the liberty of his country? Has he been bred up in a tyrannical\nabsolute court for nothing? Can he have any notion of government there\nbut what is cruel, oppressive, absolute, and despotic? What principles\nof government will he come over with? and as he has sucked in tyranny\nwith his milk, and knows no government but that of the most absolute\nmonarch in the world, is this the man they would bring in to preserve\nthe liberties and constitution of Britain?\nWhen set upon the British throne, who are his allies and confederates?\nWill he be so ungrateful as not to be always at the devotion and\ncommand of the French king? a prince that took his father in a\nfugitive, an abdicated and ruined prince, when his fortunes were\noverthrown, and his crown taken from him; that made so many efforts to\nrestore him, and hazarded his whole kingdom for it: if he forgets the\nkindness shown to his father, can he be so ungenerous, so unthankful,\nas to forget how the king of France nourished him from a child; how,\nafter his father's death, he hazarded a second war to proclaim him\nking of Great Britain, and what expense he has been at to put him in\npossession of it? Should he forget all these obligations, he must be\nunfit to be called a Christian, much less a prince.\nIf he can act so barbarously to the French king, his benefactor, what\nmust you Britons expect from him, who have done nothing to oblige him,\nbut have for twenty-four years kept him and his father in exile, and\ntreated them both with unsufferable indignity? If he can be ungrateful\nto the king of France, who has done so much for him, what must he be\nto you, who have done so much against him?\nAgain: if gratitude and honour have any influence upon him, if he has\nany sense of his obligation to the French king, will he not for ever\nbe his most hearty, obedient, humble servant? Will he not always be in\nhis interest, nay, ought he not to be so? Is he not tied by the laws\nof friendship and gratitude to be so?\nThink, then, dear Britons! what a king this pretender must be; a\npapist by inclination; a tyrant by education; a Frenchman by honour\nand obligation: and how long will your liberties last you in this\ncondition? And when your liberties are gone, how long will your\nreligion remain? When your hands are tied; when armies bind you; when\npower oppresses you; when a tyrant disarms you; when a popish French\ntyrant reigns over you; by what means or methods can you pretend to\nmaintain your protestant religion?\nHow shall the Church of England stand, when in subjection to the\nChurch of Rome? You are now mixed with dissenters, and some are uneasy\nenough with them too; but our church will then be but a dissenting\nchurch; popery will be the establishment; the mass will succeed our\ncommon prayer, and fire and fagot instead of toleration, as you know\nwas our case before; for it is not the first time the papists have\nbeen tried.\nNor did Queen Mary promise, nay, swear less than is now promised for\nthe pretender; for she swore to the Gospellers of Suffolk to make no\nalteration in religion; and they, like the blinded protestants of this\nage, brought her in, for which they were the first that felt the fury\nand rage of the popish party, and so we have great cause to believe it\nwould be again.\nTHE CONCLUSION.\nConsider, then, honest countrymen and protestants, what you are doing;\nlook on your families; consider your innocent children, who you are\ngoing to give up to be bred in abominable superstition and idolatry;\nlook on your dear country, which you are preparing to make the seat of\nwar, blood, and confusion; look on your neighbours, who, while they\nare resisting this inundation, for you may be assured honest men will\nresist it to the last, you are to fight with, whose throats you must\ncut, and in whose blood you must dip your hands; and, lastly, consider\nyourselves; how free, how quiet, how in peace, plenty, and in\nprotestant liberty you now live, but are with your own hands pulling\ndown upon you, so far as you entertain thoughts of the pretender, the\nwalls of your own security, viz., the constitution, and making way for\nyour French popish enemies to enter; to whom your religion, your\nliberties, your estates, your families, and your posterity, shall be\nmade a sacrifice, and this flourishing nation be entirely ruined.\nIn the last place, all that have any concern left for the good of\ntheir country, and for the preserving the protestant religion, will\nremember how much it is in the power of the people of Britain for ever\nto discourage all the attempts to be made in favour of these popish\nenemies, and to overthrow them in the execution; and it is on this\nfoundation that this paper is made public. The late letter from Douay,\nwritten by some of that side, who very well understood the pretender's\ntrue interest, acknowledges this, and that if the people of England\ncould not be wheedled and deluded into the design, it was never to be\ndone by force.\nAnd is this your case, Britons! Will you be ruined by a people whom\nyou ought to despise? Have they not been twenty years trying your\nstrength, till they find it impossible for them to master you? And are\nthey brought to such a condition as to use all their arts and shifts\nto bring on a peace; and will you be brought now in cool thoughts, and\nafter so long a struggle, to do that yourselves which you would never\nlet them do; and which, without your most stupid negligence of\nyourselves, they could never do.\nFor this reason, I say, these lines are written, and this makes them\njust, and the argument rational. If I were to move you to what was not\nin your power, I should easily be answered, by being told, you could\nnot do it; that you were not able, and the like; but is it not evident\nthat the unanimous appearance of the people of Great Britain against\nthe pretender would at once render all the party desperate, and make\nthem look upon the design as utterly impracticable. As their only hope\nis in the breaches they are making in your resolutions, so if they\nshould see they gain no ground there, they would despair, and give it\nover.\nIt would not be worth notice to inquire who are, and who are not for\nthe pretender; the invidious search into the conduct of great men,\nministers of state and government, would be labour lost: no ministry\nwill ever be for the pretender, if they once may but be convinced that\nthe people are steady; that he gets no ground in the country; that the\naversions of the common people to his person and his government are\nnot to be overcome: but if you, the good people of England, slacken\nyour hands; if you give up the cause; if you abate your zeal for your\nown liberties, and for the protestant religion; if you fall in with\npopery and a French pretender; if you forget the revolution, and King\nWilliam, what can you expect? who can stand by you then? Who can save\nthem that will destroy themselves?\nThe work is before you; your deliverance, your safety is in your own\nhands, and therefore these things are now written: none can give you\nup; none can betray you but yourselves; none can bring in popery upon\nyou but yourselves; and if you could see your own happiness, it is\nentirely in your power, by unanimous, steady adhering to your old\nprinciples, to secure your peace for ever. O Jerusalem! Jerusalem!\nEND OF A SEASONABLE WARNING AND CAUTION.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  A Seasonable Warning and Caution against the Insinuations of Papists and Jacobites in favour of the Pretender\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Linda Cantoni, and the Online\nmemory of Steven Gibbs (1938-2009).\n[Transcriber's Note: This e-book, a pamphlet by Daniel Defoe, was\noriginally published in 1706. Archaic spellings have been retained as\nthey appear in the original. This e-book was prepared from _The Novels\nand Miscellaneous Works of Daniel De Foe_ (Oxford: D.A. Talboys,\n1840). \"To the Reader\" was written by an unidentified editor of that\ncollection.]\nA TRUE RELATION\nOF THE\nAPPARITION OF ONE MRS. VEAL,\nTHE NEXT DAY AFTER HER DEATH,\nTO ONE\nMRS. BARGRAVE, AT CANTERBURY,\nTHE 8TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1705;\nWhich Apparition recommends the perusal of Drelincourt's Book of\nConsolations against the Fears of Death.\nTHE PREFACE.\nThis relation is matter of fact, and attended with such circumstances,\nas may induce any reasonable man to believe it. It was sent by a\ngentleman, a justice of peace, at Maidstone, in Kent, and a very\nintelligent person, to his friend in London, as it is here worded;\nwhich discourse is attested by a very sober and understanding\ngentlewoman, a kinswoman of the said gentleman's, who lives in\nCanterbury, within a few doors of the house in which the within-named\nMrs. Bargrave lives; who believes his kinswoman to be of so discerning\na spirit, as not to be put upon by any fallacy; and who positively\nassured him that the whole matter, as it is related and laid down, is\nreally true; and what she herself had in the same words, as near as\nmay be, from Mrs. Bargrave's own mouth, who, she knows, had no reason\nto invent and publish such a story, or any design to forge and tell a\nlie, being a woman of much honesty and virtue, and her whole life a\ncourse, as it were, of piety. The use which we ought to make of it, is\nto consider, that there is a life to come after this, and a just God,\nwho will retribute to every one according to the deeds done in the\nbody; and therefore to reflect upon our past course of life we have\nled in the world; that our time is short and uncertain; and that if\nwe would escape the punishment of the ungodly, and receive the reward\nof the righteous, which is the laying hold of eternal life, we ought,\nfor the time to come, to return to God by a speedy repentance, ceasing\nto do evil, and learning to do well: to seek after God early, if\nhappily he may be found of us, and lead such lives for the future, as\nmay be well pleasing in his sight.\nA RELATION\nOF THE\nAPPARITION OF MRS. VEAL.\nThis thing is so rare in all its circumstances, and on so good\nauthority, that my reading and conversation has not given me anything\nlike it: it is fit to gratify the most ingenious and serious inquirer.\nMrs. Bargrave is the person to whom Mrs. Veal appeared after her\ndeath; she is my intimate friend, and I can avouch for her reputation,\nfor these last fifteen or sixteen years, on my own knowledge; and I\ncan confirm the good character she had from her youth, to the time of\nmy acquaintance. Though, since this relation, she is calumniated by\nsome people, that are friends to the brother of this Mrs. Veal, who\nappeared; who think the relation of this appearance to be a\nreflection, and endeavour what they can to blast Mrs. Bargrave's\nreputation, and to laugh the story out of countenance. But by the\ncircumstances thereof, and the cheerful disposition of Mrs. Bargrave,\nnotwithstanding the ill-usage of a very wicked husband, there is not\nyet the least sign of dejection in her face; nor did I ever hear her\nlet fall a desponding or murmuring expression; nay, not when actually\nunder her husband's barbarity; which I have been witness to, and\nseveral other persons of undoubted reputation.\nNow you must know, Mrs. Veal was a maiden gentlewoman of about thirty\nyears of age, and for some years last past had been troubled with\nfits; which were perceived coming on her, by her going off from her\ndiscourse very abruptly to some impertinence. She was maintained by an\nonly brother, and kept his house in Dover. She was a very pious woman,\nand her brother a very sober man to all appearance; but now he does\nall he can to null or quash the story. Mrs. Veal was intimately\nacquainted with Mrs. Bargrave from her childhood. Mrs. Veal's\ncircumstances were then mean; her father did not take care of his\nchildren as he ought, so that they were exposed to hardships; and Mrs.\nBargrave, in those days, had as unkind a father, though she wanted\nneither for food nor clothing, whilst Mrs. Veal wanted for both;\ninsomuch that she would often say, Mrs. Bargrave, you are not only the\nbest, but the only friend I have in the world, and no circumstance of\nlife shall ever dissolve my friendship. They would often condole each\nother's adverse fortunes, and read together Drelincourt upon Death,\nand other good books; and so, like two Christian friends, they\ncomforted each other under their sorrow.\nSome time after, Mr. Veal's friends got him a place in the\ncustom-house at Dover, which occasioned Mrs. Veal, by little and\nlittle, to fall off from her intimacy with Mrs. Bargrave, though there\nwas never any such thing as a quarrel; but an indifferency came on by\ndegrees, till at last Mrs. Bargrave had not seen her in two years and\na half; though above a twelvemonth of the time Mrs. Bargrave hath been\nabsent from Dover, and this last half year has been in Canterbury\nabout two months of the time, dwelling in a house of her own.\nIn this house, on the 8th of September, 1705, she was sitting alone in\nthe forenoon, thinking over her unfortunate life, and arguing herself\ninto a due resignation to providence, though her condition seemed\nhard. And, said she, I have been provided for hitherto, and doubt not\nbut I shall be still; and am well satisfied that my afflictions shall\nend when it is most fit for me: and then took up her sewing-work,\nwhich she had no sooner done, but she hears a knocking at the door.\nShe went to see who was there, and this proved to be Mrs. Veal, her\nold friend, who was in a riding-habit. At that moment of time the\nclock struck twelve at noon.\nMadam, says Mrs. Bargrave, I am surprised to see you, you have been so\nlong a stranger; but told her, she was glad to see her, and offered to\nsalute her; which Mrs. Veal complied with, till their lips almost\ntouched; and then Mrs. Veal drew her hand across her own eyes, and\nsaid, I am not very well; and so waived it. She told Mrs. Bargrave,\nshe was going a journey, and had a great mind to see her first. But,\nsays Mrs. Bargrave, how came you to take a journey alone? I am amazed\nat it, because I know you have a fond brother. Oh! says Mrs. Veal, I\ngave my brother the slip, and came away because I had so great a\ndesire to see you before I took my journey. So Mrs. Bargrave went in\nwith her, into another room within the first, and Mrs. Veal sat her\ndown in an elbow-chair, in which Mrs. Bargrave was sitting when she\nheard Mrs. Veal knock. Then says Mrs. Veal, My dear friend, I am come\nto renew our old friendship again, and beg your pardon for my breach\nof it; and if you can forgive me, you are the best of women. O, says\nMrs. Bargrave, do not mention such a thing; I have not had an uneasy\nthought about it; I can easily forgive it. What did you think of me?\nsaid Mrs. Veal. Says Mrs. Bargrave, I thought you were like the rest\nof the world, and that prosperity had made you forget yourself and me.\nThen Mrs. Veal reminded Mrs. Bargrave of the many friendly offices she\ndid her in former days, and much of the conversation they had with\neach other in the times of their adversity; what books they read, and\nwhat comfort, in particular, they received from Drelincourt's Book of\nDeath, which was the best, she said, on that subject ever written. She\nalso mentioned Dr. Sherlock, the two Dutch books which were\ntranslated, written upon death, and several others. But Drelincourt,\nshe said, had the clearest notions of death, and of the future state,\nof any who had handled that subject. Then she asked Mrs. Bargrave,\nwhether she had Drelincourt. She said, Yes. Says Mrs. Veal, Fetch it.\nAnd so Mrs. Bargrave goes up stairs and brings it down. Says Mrs.\nVeal, Dear Mrs. Bargrave, if the eyes of our faith were as open as the\neyes of our body, we should see numbers of angels about us for our\nguard. The notions we have of heaven now, are nothing like what it is,\nas Drelincourt says; therefore be comforted under your afflictions,\nand believe that the Almighty has a particular regard to you; and that\nyour afflictions are marks of God's favour; and when they have done\nthe business they are sent for, they shall be removed from you. And,\nbelieve me, my dear friend, believe what I say to you, one minute of\nfuture happiness will infinitely reward you for all your sufferings.\nFor, I can never believe, (and claps her hand upon her knee with great\nearnestness, which indeed ran through most of her discourse,) that\never God will suffer you to spend all your days in this afflicted\nstate; but be assured, that your afflictions shall leave you, or you\nthem, in a short time. She spake in that pathetical and heavenly\nmanner, that Mrs. Bargrave wept several times, she was so deeply\naffected with it.\nThen Mrs. Veal mentioned Dr. Kenrick's Ascetick, at the end of which\nhe gives an account of the lives of the primitive Christians. Their\npattern she recommended to our imitation, and said, their conversation\nwas not like this of our age: For now, says she, there is nothing but\nfrothy, vain discourse, which is far different from theirs. Theirs was\nto edification, and to build one another up in faith; so that they\nwere not as we are, nor are we as they were: but, says she, we ought\nto do as they did. There was an hearty friendship among them; but\nwhere is it now to be found? Says Mrs. Bargrave, It is hard indeed to\nfind a true friend in these days. Says Mrs. Veal, Mr. Norris has a\nfine copy of verses, called Friendship in Perfection, which I\nwonderfully admire. Have you seen the book? says Mrs. Veal. No, says\nMrs. Bargrave, but I have the verses of my own writing out. Have you?\nsays Mrs. Veal, then fetch them. Which she did from above stairs, and\noffered them to Mrs. Veal to read, who refused, and waived the thing,\nsaying, holding down her head would make it ache; and then desired\nMrs. Bargrave to read them to her, which she did. As they were\nadmiring friendship, Mrs. Veal said, Dear Mrs. Bargrave, I shall love\nyou for ever. In these verses there is twice used the word Elysian,\nAh! says Mrs. Veal, these poets have such names for heaven. She would\noften draw her hand across her own eyes, and say, Mrs. Bargrave, do\nnot you think I am mightily impaired by my fits? No, says Mrs.\nBargrave, I think you look as well as ever I knew you. After all this\ndiscourse, which the apparition put in much finer words than Mrs.\nBargrave said she could pretend to, and as much more than she can\nremember, (for it cannot be thought, that an hour and three quarters'\nconversation could all be retained, though the main of it she thinks\nshe does,) she said to Mrs. Bargrave, she would have her write a\nletter to her brother, and tell him, she would have him give rings to\nsuch and such; and that there was a purse of gold in her cabinet, and\nthat she would have two broad pieces given to her cousin Watson.\nTalking at this rate, Mrs. Bargrave thought that a fit was coming upon\nher, and so placed herself in a chair just before her knees, to keep\nher from falling to the ground, if her fits should occasion it: for\nthe elbow-chair, she thought, would keep her from falling on either\nside. And to divert Mrs. Veal, as she thought, took hold of her\ngown-sleeve several times, and commended it. Mrs. Veal told her, it\nwas a scowered silk, and newly made up. But for all this, Mrs. Veal\npersisted in her request, and told Mrs. Bargrave, she must not deny\nher: and she would have her tell her brother all their conversation,\nwhen she had opportunity. Dear Mrs. Veal, says Mrs. Bargrave, this\nseems so impertinent, that I cannot tell how to comply with it; and\nwhat a mortifying story will our conversation be to a young gentleman?\nWhy, says Mrs. Bargrave, it is much better, methinks to do it\nyourself. No, says Mrs. Veal, though it seems impertinent to you now,\nyou will see more reason for it hereafter. Mrs. Bargrave then, to\nsatisfy her importunity, was going to fetch a pen and ink; but Mrs.\nVeal said, Let it alone now, but do it when I am gone; but you must be\nsure to do it: which was one of the last things she enjoined her at\nparting; and so she promised her.\nThen Mrs. Veal asked for Mrs. Bargrave's daughter; she said, she was\nnot at home: But if you have a mind to see her, says Mrs. Bargrave,\nI'll send for her. Do, says Mrs. Veal. On which she left her, and went\nto a neighbour's to see for her; and by the time Mrs. Bargrave was\nreturning, Mrs. Veal was got without the door in the street, in the\nface of the beast-market, on a Saturday, which is market-day, and\nstood ready to part, as soon as Mrs. Bargrave came to her. She asked\nher, why she was in such haste. She said she must be going, though\nperhaps she might not go her journey till Monday; and told Mrs.\nBargrave, she hoped she should see her again at her cousin Watson's,\nbefore she went whither she was going. Then she said, she would take\nher leave of her, and walked from Mrs. Bargrave in her view, till a\nturning interrupted the sight of her, which was three quarters after\none in the afternoon.\nMrs. Veal died the 7th of September, at twelve o'clock at noon, of\nher fits, and had not above four hours' senses before her death, in\nwhich time she received the sacrament. The next day after Mrs. Veal's\nappearing, being Sunday, Mrs. Bargrave was mightily indisposed with a\ncold, and a sore throat, that she could not go out that day; but on\nMonday morning she sent a person to captain Watson's, to know if Mrs.\nVeal was there. They wondered at Mrs. Bargrave's inquiry; and sent her\nword, that she was not there, nor was expected. At this answer Mrs.\nBargrave told the maid she had certainly mistook the name, or made\nsome blunder. And though she was ill, she put on her hood, and went\nherself to captain Watson's though she knew none of the family, to see\nif Mrs. Veal was there or not. They said, they wondered at her asking,\nfor that she had not been in town; they were sure, if she had, she\nwould have been there. Says Mrs. Bargrave, I am sure she was with me\non Saturday almost two hours. They said, it was impossible; for they\nmust have seen her if she had. In comes Capt. Watson, while they were\nin dispute, and said, that Mrs. Veal was certainly dead, and her\nescutcheons were making. This strangely surprised Mrs. Bargrave, when\nshe sent to the person immediately who had the care of them, and found\nit true. Then she related the whole story to captain Watson's family,\nand what gown she had on, and how striped; and that Mrs. Veal told\nher, it was scowered. Then Mrs. Watson cried out, You have seen her\nindeed, for none knew, but Mrs. Veal and myself, that the gown was\nscowered. And Mrs. Watson owned, that she described the gown exactly:\nFor, said she, I helped her to make it up. This Mrs. Watson blazed all\nabout the town, and avouched the demonstration of the truth of Mrs.\nBargrave's seeing Mrs. Veal's apparition. And captain Watson carried\ntwo gentlemen immediately to Mrs. Bargrave's house, to hear the\nrelation of her own mouth. And when it spread so fast, that gentlemen\nand persons of quality, the judicious and sceptical part of the\nworld, flocked in upon her, it at last became such a task, that she\nwas forced to go out of the way. For they were, in general, extremely\nsatisfied of the truth of the thing, and plainly saw that Mrs.\nBargrave was no hypocondriac; for she always appears with such a\ncheerful air, and pleasing mien, that she has gained the favour and\nesteem of all the gentry; and it is thought a great favour, if they\ncan but get the relation from her own mouth. I should have told you\nbefore, that Mrs. Veal told Mrs. Bargrave, that her sister and\nbrother-in-law were just come down from London to see her. Says Mrs.\nBargrave, How came you to order matters so strangely? It could not be\nhelped, says Mrs. Veal. And her brother and sister did come to see\nher, and entered the town of Dover just as Mrs. Veal was expiring.\nMrs. Bargrave, asked her, whether she would drink some tea. Says Mrs.\nVeal, I do not care if I do; but I'll warrant you, this mad fellow,\n(meaning Mrs. Bargrave's husband,) has broke all your trinkets. But,\nsays Mrs. Bargrave, I'll get something to drink in for all that; but\nMrs. Veal waived it, and said, It is no matter, let it alone; and so\nit passed.\nAll the time I sat with Mrs. Bargrave, which was some hours, she\nrecollected fresh sayings of Mrs. Veal. And one material thing more\nshe told Mrs. Bargrave, that old Mr. Breton allowed Mrs. Veal ten\npounds a year; which was a secret, and unknown to Mrs. Bargrave, till\nMrs. Veal told it her.\nMrs. Bargrave never varies in her story; which puzzles those who doubt\nof the truth, or are unwilling to believe it. A servant in the\nneighbour's yard, adjoining to Mrs. Bargrave's house, heard her\ntalking to somebody an hour of the time Mrs. Veal was with her. Mrs.\nBargrave went out to her next neighbour's the very moment she parted\nwith Mrs. Veal, and told her what ravishing conversation she had with\nan old friend, and told the whole of it. Drelincourt's Book of Death\nis, since this happened, bought up strangely. And it is to be\nobserved, that notwithstanding all the trouble and fatigue Mrs.\nBargrave has undergone upon this account, she never took the value of\na farthing, nor suffered her daughter to take anything of anybody, and\ntherefore can have no interest in telling the story.\nBut Mr. Veal does what he can to stifle the matter, and said, he would\nsee Mrs. Bargrave; but yet it is certain matter of fact that he has\nbeen at captain Watson's since the death of his sister, and yet never\nwent near Mrs. Bargrave; and some of his friends report her to be a\nliar, and that she knew of Mr. Breton's ten pounds a year. But the\nperson who pretends to say so, has the reputation of a notorious liar,\namong persons whom I know to be of undoubted credit. Now Mr. Veal is\nmore of a gentleman than to say she lies; but says, a bad husband has\ncrazed her. But she needs only present herself, and it will\neffectually confute that pretence. Mr. Veal says, he asked his sister\non her death-bed, whether she had a mind to dispose of anything? And\nshe said, No. Now, the things which Mrs. Veal's apparition would have\ndisposed of, were so trifling, and nothing of justice aimed at in\ntheir disposal, that the design of it appears to me to be only in\norder to make Mrs. Bargrave so to demonstrate the truth of her\nappearance, as to satisfy the world of the reality thereof, as to what\nshe had seen and heard; and to secure her reputation among the\nreasonable and understanding part of mankind. And then again, Mr. Veal\nowns, that there was a purse of gold; but it was not found in her\ncabinet, but in a comb-box. This looks improbable; for that Mrs.\nWatson owned, that Mrs. Veal was so very careful of the key of the\ncabinet, that she would trust nobody with it. And if so, no doubt she\nwould not trust her gold out of it. And Mrs. Veal's often drawing her\nhand over her eyes, and asking Mrs. Bargrave whether her fits had not\nimpaired her, looks to me as if she did it on purpose to remind Mrs.\nBargrave of her fits, to prepare her not to think it strange that she\nshould put her upon writing to her brother to dispose of rings and\ngold, which looked so much like a dying person's request; and it took\naccordingly with Mrs. Bargrave, as the effects of her fits coming upon\nher; and was one of the many instances of her wonderful love to her,\nand care of her, that she should not be affrighted; which indeed\nappears in her whole management, particularly in her coming to her in\nthe day-time, waiving the salutation, and when she was alone; and then\nthe manner of her parting, to prevent a second attempt to salute her.\nNow, why Mr. Veal should think this relation a reflection, as it is\nplain he does, by his endeavouring to stifle it, I cannot imagine;\nbecause the generality believe her to be a good spirit, her discourse\nwas so heavenly. Her two great errands were to comfort Mrs. Bargrave\nin her affliction, and to ask her forgiveness for the breach of\nfriendship, and with a pious discourse to encourage her. So that,\nafter all, to suppose that Mrs. Bargrave could hatch such an invention\nas this from Friday noon till Saturday noon, supposing that she knew\nof Mrs. Veal's death the very first moment, without jumbling\ncircumstances, and without any interest too; she must be more witty,\nfortunate, and wicked too, than any indifferent person, I dare say,\nwill allow. I asked Mrs. Bargrave several times, if she was sure she\nfelt the gown? She answered modestly, If my senses be to be relied on,\nI am sure of it. I asked her, if she heard a sound when she clapped\nher hand upon her knee? She said, she did not remember she did; but\nsaid she appeared to be as much a substance as I did, who talked with\nher. And I may, said she, be as soon persuaded, that your apparition\nis talking to me now, as that I did not really see her: for I was\nunder no manner of fear, and received her as a friend, and parted with\nher as such. I would not, says she, give one farthing to make any one\nbelieve it: I have no interest in it; nothing but trouble is entailed\nupon me for a long time, for aught I know; and had it not come to\nlight by accident, it would never have been made public. But now, she\nsays, she will make her own private use of it, and keep herself out of\nthe way as much as she can; and so she has done since. She says, She\nhad a gentleman who came thirty miles to her to hear the relation; and\nthat she had told it to a room full of people at a time. Several\nparticular gentlemen have had the story from Mrs. Bargrave's own\nmouth.\nThis thing has very much affected me, and I am as well satisfied, as I\nam of the best-grounded matter of fact. And why we should dispute\nmatter of fact, because we cannot solve things of which we can have no\ncertain or demonstrative notions, seems strange to me. Mrs. Bargrave's\nauthority and sincerity alone, would have been undoubted in any other\ncase.\nTO THE READER.\nThe origin of the foregoing curious story seems to have been as\nfollows:--\nAn adventurous bookseller had ventured to print a considerable edition\nof a work by the Reverend Charles Drelincourt, minister of the\nCalvinist church in Paris, and translated by M. D'Assigny, under the\ntitle of \"The Christian's Defence against the Fear of Death, with\nseveral directions how to prepare ourselves to die well.\" But however\ncertain the prospect of death, it is not so agreeable (unfortunately)\nas to invite the eager contemplation of the public; and Drelincourt's\nbook, being neglected, lay a dead stock on the hands of the publisher.\nIn this emergency, he applied to De Foe to assist him, (by dint of\nsuch means as were then, as well as now, pretty well understood in the\nliterary world,) in rescuing the unfortunate book from the literary\ndeath to which general neglect seemed about to consign it.\nDe Foe's genius and audacity devised a plan which, for assurance and\ningenuity, defied even the powers of Mr. Puff in the _Critic_: for who\nbut himself would have thought of summoning up a ghost from the grave\nto bear witness in favour of a halting body of divinity? There is a\nmatter-of-fact, business-like style in the whole account of the\ntransaction, which bespeaks ineffable powers of self-possession. The\nnarrative is drawn up \"by a gentleman, a _Justice of Peace_ at\nMaidstone, in Kent, a very intelligent person.\" And, moreover, \"the\ndiscourse is attested by a very sober gentlewoman, who lives in\nCanterbury, within a few doors of the house in which Mrs. Bargrave\nlives.\" The Justice believes his kinswoman to be of so discerning a\nspirit, as not to be put upon by any fallacy--and the kinswoman\npositively assures the Justice, \"that the whole matter, as it is\nrelated and laid down, is really true, and what she herself heard, as\nnear as may be, from Mrs. Bargrave's own mouth, who, she knows, had\nno reason to invent or publish such a story, or any design to forge\nand tell a lie, being a woman of so much honesty and virtue, and her\nwhole life a course, as it were, of piety.\" Scepticism itself could\nnot resist this triple court of evidence so artfully combined, the\nJustice attesting for the discerning spirit of the sober and\nunderstanding gentlewoman his kinswoman, and his kinswoman becoming\nbail for the veracity of Mrs. Bargrave. And here, gentle reader,\nadmire the simplicity of those days. Had Mrs. Veal's visit to her\nfriend happened in our time, the conductors of the daily press would\nhave given the word, and seven gentlemen unto the said press\nbelonging, would, with an obedient start, have made off for Kingston,\nfor Canterbury, for Dover,--for Kamtschatka if necessary,--to pose the\nJustice, cross-examine Mrs. Bargrave, confront the sober and\nunderstanding kinswoman, and dig Mrs. Veal up from her grave, rather\nthan not get to the bottom of the story. But in our time we doubt and\nscrutinize; our ancestors wondered and believed.\nBefore the story is commenced, the understanding gentlewoman, (not the\nJustice of Peace,) who is the reporter, takes some pains to repel the\nobjections made against the story by some of the friends of Mrs.\nVeal's brother, who consider the marvel as an aspersion on their\nfamily, and do what they can to laugh it out of countenance. Indeed,\nit is allowed, with admirable impartiality, that Mr. Veal is too much\nof a gentleman to suppose Mrs. Bargrave invented the story--scandal\nitself could scarce have supposed that--although one notorious liar,\nwho is chastised towards the conclusion of the story, ventures to\nthrow out such an insinuation. No reasonable or respectable person,\nhowever, could be found to countenance the suspicion, and Mr. Veal\nhimself opined that Mrs. Bargrave had been driven crazy by a cruel\nhusband, and dreamed the whole story of the apparition. Now all this\nis sufficiently artful. To have vouched the fact as universally known,\nand believed by every one, _nem. con._, would not have been half so\nsatisfactory to a sceptic as to allow fairly that the narrative had\nbeen impugned, and hint at the character of one of those sceptics, and\nthe motives of another, as sufficient to account for their want of\nbelief. Now to the fact itself.\nMrs. Bargrave and Mrs. Veal had been friends in youth, and had\nprotested their attachment should last as long as they lived; but when\nMrs. Veal's brother obtained an office in the customs at Dover, some\ncessation of their intimacy ensued, \"though without any positive\nquarrel.\" Mrs. Bargrave had removed to Canterbury, and was residing in\na house of her own, when she was suddenly interrupted by a visit from\nMrs. Veal, as she was sitting in deep contemplation of certain\ndistresses of her own. The visitor was in a riding-habit, and\nannounced herself as prepared for a distant journey, (which seems to\nintimate that spirits have a considerable distance to go before they\narrive at their appointed station, and that the females at least put\non a _habit_ for the occasion.) The spirit, for such was the seeming\nMrs. Veal, continued to waive the ceremony of salutation, both in\ngoing and coming, which will remind the reader of a ghostly lover's\nreply to his mistress in the fine old Scottish ballad:--\n    Why should I come within thy bower?\n      I am no earthly man;\n    And should I kiss thy rosy lips,\n      Thy days would not be lang.\nThey then began to talk in the homely style of middle-aged ladies, and\nMrs. Veal proses concerning the conversations they had formerly held,\nand the books they had read together. Her very recent experience\nprobably led Mrs. Veal to talk of death, and the books written on the\nsubject, and she pronounced, _ex cathedr\u00e2_, as a dead person was best\nentitled to do, that \"Drelincourt's book on Death was the best book on\nthe subject ever written.\" She also mentioned Dr. Sherlock, two Dutch\nbooks which had been translated, and several others; but Drelincourt,\nshe said, had the clearest notions of death and the future state of\nany who had handled that subject. She then asked for the work [we\nmarvel the edition and impress had not been mentioned,] and lectured\non it with great eloquence and affection. Dr. Kenrick's _Ascetick_ was\nalso mentioned with approbation by this critical spectre, [the\nDoctor's work was no doubt a tenant of the shelf in some favourite\npublisher's shop]; and Mr. Norris's _Poem on Friendship_, a work,\nwhich I doubt, though honoured with a ghost's approbation, we may now\nseek for as vainly as Correlli tormented his memory to recover the\nsonata which the devil played to him in a dream. Presently after, from\nformer habits we may suppose, the guest desires a cup of tea; but,\nbethinking herself of her new character, escapes from her own proposal\nby recollecting that Mr. Bargrave was in the habit of breaking his\nwife's china. It would have been indeed strangely out of character if\nthe spirit had lunched, or breakfasted upon tea and toast. Such a\nconsummation would have sounded as ridiculous as if the statue of the\ncommander in _Don Juan_ had not only accepted of the invitation of the\nlibertine to supper, but had also committed a beef-steak to his flinty\njaws and stomach of adamant. A little more conversation ensued of a\nless serious nature, and tending to show that even the passage from\nlife to death leaves the female anxiety about person and dress\nsomewhat alive. The ghost asked Mrs. Bargrave whether she did not\nthink her very much altered, and Mrs. Bargrave of course complimented\nher on her good looks. Mrs. Bargrave also admired the gown which Mrs.\nVeal wore, and as a mark of her perfectly restored confidence, the\nspirit let her into the important secret, that it was a _scoured\nsilk_, and lately made up. She informed her also of another secret,\nnamely, that one Mr. Bretton had allowed her ten pounds a year; and,\nlastly, she requested that Mrs. Bargrave would write to her brother,\nand tell him how to distribute her mourning rings, and mentioned there\nwas a purse of gold in her cabinet. She expressed some wish to see\nMrs. Bargrave's daughter; but when that good lady went to the next\ndoor to seek her, she found on her return the guest leaving the house.\nShe had got without the door, in the street, in the face of the beast\nmarket, on a Saturday, which is market day, and stood ready to part.\nShe said she must be going, as she had to call upon her cousin Watson,\n(this appears to be a _gratis dictum_ on the part of the ghost,) and,\nmaintaining the character of mortality to the last, she quietly turned\nthe corner, and walked out of sight.\nThen came the news of Mrs. Veal's having died the day before at noon.\nSays Mrs. Bargrave, \"I am sure she was with me on Saturday almost two\nhours.\" And in comes captain Watson, and says Mrs. Veal was certainly\ndead. And then come all the pieces of evidence, and especially the\nstriped silk gown. Then Mrs. Watson cried out, \"You have seen her\nindeed, for none knew but Mrs. Veal and I that that gown was scoured;\"\nand she cried that the gown was described exactly, for, said she, \"I\nhelped her to make it up.\" And next we have the silly attempts made to\ndiscredit the history. Even Mr. Veal, her brother, was obliged to\nallow that the gold was found, but with a difference, and pretended it\nwas not found in a cabinet, but elsewhere; and, in short, we have all\nthe gossip of _says I_, and _thinks I_, and _says she_, and _thinks\nshe_, which disputed matters usually excite in a country town.\nWhen we have thus turned the tale, the seam without, it may be thought\ntoo ridiculous to have attracted notice. But whoever will read it as\ntold by De Foe himself, will agree that, could the thing have happened\nin reality, so it would have been told. The sobering the whole\nsupernatural visit into the language of middle or low life, gives it\nan air of probability even in its absurdity. The ghost of an\nexciseman's housekeeper, and a seamstress, were not to converse like\nBrutus with his Evil Genius. And the circumstances of scoured silks,\nbroken tea-china, and such like, while they are the natural topics of\nsuch persons' conversation, would, one might have thought, be the last\nwhich an inventor would have introduced into a pretended narrative\nbetwixt the dead and living. In short, the whole is so distinctly\ncircumstantial, that, were it not for the impossibility, or extreme\nimprobability at least, of such an occurrence, the evidence could not\nbut support the story.\nThe effect was most wonderful. _Drelincourt upon Death_, attested by\none who could speak from experience, took an unequalled run. The\ncopies had hung on the bookseller's hands as heavy as a pile of lead\nbullets. They now traversed the town in every direction, like the same\nballs discharged from a field-piece. In short, the object of Mrs.\nVeal's apparition was perfectly attained.--See The Miscellaneous Prose\nWorks of Sir Walter Scott, Bart. vol. iv. p. 305. ed. 1827.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  A True Relation of the Apparition of one Mrs. Veal\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ted Garvin and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team\nAN AMERICAN\nROBINSON CRUSOE\nFOR AMERICAN BOYS\nAND GIRLS\nTHE ADAPTATION, WITH ADDITIONAL INCIDENTS\nBY\nSAMUEL B. ALLISON, Ph.D.\nCONTENTS\n      I  Robinson with His Parents\n     II  Robinson as an Apprentice\n    III  Robinson's Departure\n     IV  Robinson Far from Home\n      V  The Shipwreck\n     VI  Robinson Saved\n    VII  The First Night on Land\n   VIII  Robinson on an Island\n     IX  Robinson's Shelter\n      X  Robinson Makes a Hat\n     XI  Robinson's Calendar\n    XII  Robinson Makes a Hunting Bag\n   XIII  Robinson Explores the Island\n    XIV  Robinson as a Hunter\n     XV  Robinson's Shoes and Parasol\n    XVI  Getting Fire\n   XVII  Robinson Makes Some Furniture\n  XVIII  Robinson Becomes a Shepherd\n    XIX  Robinson Builds a Home for His Goats\n     XX  Robinson Gets Ready for Winter\n    XXI  How Robinson Lays up a Store of Food\n   XXII  Robinson's Diary\n  XXIII  Robinson is Sick\n   XXIV  Robinson's Bower\n    XXV  Robinson Again Explores His Island\n   XXVI  Robinson and His Birds\n  XXVII  Robinson Gets Fire\n XXVIII  Robinson Makes Baskets\n   XXIX  Robinson Becomes a Farmer\n    XXX  Robinson as Potter\n   XXXI  Robinson as Baker\n  XXXII  Robinson as Fisherman\n XXXIII  Robinson Builds a Boat\n  XXXIV  Robinson as a Sailor\n   XXXV  A Discovery\n  XXXVI  The Landing of the Savages\n XXXVII  Robinson as Teacher\nXXXVIII  Another Shipwreck\n  XXXIX  Saving Things from the Ship\n     XL  The Return of the Savages\n    XLI  Deliverance at Last\n   XLII  Robinson at Home\nPREFATORY NOTE\n\"An American Robinson Crusoe\" is the outcome of many years of\nexperience with the story in the early grades of elementary schools.\nIt was written to be used as a content in giving a knowledge of the\nbeginning and development of human progress. The aim is not just to\nfurnish an interesting narrative, but one that is true to the course\nof human development and the scientific and geographical facts of the\nisland on which Robinson is supposed to have lived.\nThe excuse for departing so widely from the original story is to be\nfound in the use which was desired to be made of it. The story here\npresented is simply the free adaptation of the original narrative to\nthe demand for a specific kind of content in a form which would be\ninteresting to the children.\nThe teacher is and should be justified in using with entire freedom\nany material accessible for the ends of instruction.\nThe text as here given has been published with an introduction and\nsuggestive treatments as a Teacher's Manual for Primary Grades--\"The\nTeacher's Robinson Crusoe.\" Explicit directions and ample suggestions\nare made for the use of the story as material for instruction in all\nthe language arts, drawing, social history, and the manual arts.\nPublished by the Educational Publishing Company.\nAN AMERICAN\nROBINSON CRUSOE\nI\nROBINSON WITH HIS PARENTS\nThere once lived in the city of New York, a boy by the name of\nRobinson Crusoe. He had a pleasant home. His father and mother were\nkind to him and sent him to school. They hoped that he would study\nhard and grow up to be a wise and useful man, but he loved rather to\nrun idle about the street than to go to school. He was fond of playing\nalong the River Hudson, for he there saw the great ships come and go.\nThey were as big as houses. He watched them load and unload their\ncargoes and hundreds of people get off and on. His father had told\nhim that the ships came from far distant lands, where lived many large\nanimals and black men. His father told him too, that in these faraway\ncountries the nuts on the trees grew to be as large as one's head and\nthat the trees were as high as church steeples.\nWhen Robinson saw the ships put out to sea, he would watch them till\nthey would disappear below the horizon far out in the ocean, and\nthink, \"Oh, if I could only go with them far away to see those strange\ncountries!\" Thus he would linger along the great river and wish he\nmight find an opportunity of making a voyage. Often it would be dark\nbefore he would get home. When he came into the house his mother would\nmeet him and say in a gentle voice, \"Why, Robinson, how late you are\nin getting home! You have been to the river again.\"\n[Illustration: ROBINSON WATCHING THE SHIPS]\nThen Robinson would hang his head and feel deeply ashamed, and when\nhis father, who was a merchant, came home from the store, his mother\nwould tell him that Robinson had again been truant.\nThis would grieve his father deeply and he would go to the boy's\nbedside and talk earnestly with him. \"Why do you do so?\" he would say.\n\"How often have I told you to go to school every day?\" This would for\na time win Robinson back to school, but by the next week it had been\nforgotten and he would again be loitering along the river in spite\nof his father's remonstrances.\nII\nROBINSON AS AN APPRENTICE\nIn this way one year after another slipped by. Robinson was not more\ndiligent. He was now almost sixteen years old and had not learned\nanything. Then came his birthday. In the afternoon his father called\nhim into his room. Robinson opened the door softly. There sat his\nfather with a sad face. He looked up and said, \"Well, Robinson, all\nyour schoolmates have long been busy trying to learn something, so\nthat they may be able to earn their own living. Paul will be a baker,\nRobert a butcher, Martin is learning to be a carpenter, Herman a\ntailor, Otto a blacksmith, Fritz is going to high school, because he\nis going to be a teacher. Now, you are still doing nothing. This will\nnot do. From this time on I wish you to think of becoming a merchant.\nIn the morning you will go with me to the store and begin work. If\nyou are attentive and skillful, when the time comes you can take up\nmy business and carry it on. But if you remain careless and continue\nto idle about, no one will ever want you and you must starve because\nyou will never be able to earn a living.\"\nSo the next morning Robinson went to the store and began work. He\nwrapped up sugar and coffee, he weighed out rice and beans. He sold\nmeal and salt, and when the dray wagon pulled up at the store, loaded\nwith new goods, he sprang out quickly and helped to unload it. He\ncarried in sacks of flour and chests of tea, and rolled in barrels\nof coffee and molasses. He also worked some at the desk. He looked\ninto the account books and saw in neat writing, \"Goods received\" and\n\"Goods sold.\" He noticed how his father wrote letters and reckoned\nup his accounts. He even took his pen in hand and put the addresses\non the letters and packages as well as he could.\nBut soon he was back in his careless habits. He was no longer\nattentive to business. He wrapped up salt instead of sugar. He put\nfalse weights on the scales. He gave some too much and others too\nlittle. His hands, only, were in the business, his mind was far away\non the ocean with the ships. When he helped unload the wagons, he\nwould often let the chests and casks drop, so that they were broken\nand their contents would run out on the ground. For he was always\nthinking, \"Where have these casks come from and how beautiful it must\nbe there!\" And many times packages came back because Robinson had\nwritten the name of the place or the country wrong. For when he was\nwriting the address, he was always thinking, \"You will be laid upon\na wagon and will then go into the ship.\" One day he had to write a\nletter to a man far over the sea. He could stand it no longer. His\nfather had gone out. He threw down the pen, picked up his hat and ran\nout to the Hudson to see the ships, and from that time on he spent\nmore time loitering along the river than he did in the store.\nIII\nROBINSON'S DEPARTURE\nRobinson's father soon noticed that his son was no longer attending\nto his work, and one morning sent for him to come to his office. When\nRobinson came in his father arose from his chair and looked him long\nand earnestly in the face. Then he said, \"I am very sorry, Robinson,\nthat you seem determined to continue your evil ways. If you do not\ndo better you will grow up to be a beggar or worse.\" Robinson cast\nhis eyes down and said, \"I do not want to be a merchant, I would rather\nsail in a ship around the world.\" His father answered, \"If you do not\nknow anything you cannot be of use on a ship, and no one will want\nyou. In a strange land you cannot live without working. If you run\naway from your parents you will come to be sorry for it.\" Robinson\nwept, for he saw that his father was right, and he promised to obey.\nAfter two or three weeks, Robinson went to his mother and said,\n\"Mother, won't you go to father and tell him that if he will only let\nme take one voyage and it proves to be unpleasant, I will come back\nto the store and work hard?\" But the mother cried. With tears in her\neyes, she said: \"Robinson, your brothers are both dead. You are the\nonly child left to us and if you go away, we shall be entirely alone.\nHow easy it would be to be drowned in the sea, or torn to pieces by\nwild animals away there in a foreign country. Both your father and\nmyself are getting along in years and who will take care of us when\nwe are sick? Do not cause us the grief we must suffer if you go away\nso far amid so many dangers. I cannot bear to have you speak of it\nagain.\"\nRobinson did not speak of it again, but he did not forget it. He was\nnineteen years old. It was one day in August that Robinson stood at\nthe wharf looking longingly after the departing ships. As he stood\nthere, someone touched him on the shoulder. It was a ship captain's\nson. He pointed to a long ship and said, \"My father sails to-day in\nthat ship for Africa and takes me with him.\"\n\"Oh, if I could only go with you!\" cried Robinson.\n\"Do come along,\" cried his comrade.\n\"But I have no money,\" said Robinson.\n\"That doesn't make any difference,\" returned the captain's son. \"We\nwill take you anyway.\"\nRobinson, without thinking for a moment, gave his friend his hand and\npromised to go with him.\nSo without saying \"Good-bye\" to his parents, Robinson went immediately\non board the ship with his friend. This happened on the 10th of\nAugust.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON AND THE CAPTAIN'S SON]\n[Illustration]\nIV\nROBINSON FAR FROM HOME\nROBINSON'S VOYAGE\nOnce on board, Robinson watched the preparations for departure. At\ncommand the sailors clambered up into the rigging and loosened the\nsails. Then the captain from his bridge called out, \"Hoist the\nanchor!\" Then the great iron hooks that held the ship fast were lifted\nup, a cannon sounded a final farewell. Robinson stood on the deck.\nHe saw the great city shimmer in the sunshine before him. Very fast\nnow the land was being left behind. It was not long until all that\ncould be seen of his native city was the tops of the highest towers.\nThen all faded from sight. Behind, in front, right and left, he saw\nnothing but waters.\nHe became a little afraid. At noon there arose a strong wind and the\nship rocked to and fro. He became dizzy and had to hold fast to\nsomething. The masts and rigging began to dance. It seemed to him as\nif all was turning around. Suddenly he fell full length on the deck\nand it was impossible for him to get up. He was seasick. He wailed\nand cried, but no one heard him, no one helped him. Then he thought\nof his home, his parents whom he had so ungratefully left.\nHe had been on the water about two weeks when one day as he lay in\nhis room, Robinson heard people over his head running about and crying,\n\"A storm is coming!\" The ship's sides trembled and creaked. The ship\nwas tossed like a nutshell. Now it rolled to the right, now to the\nleft. And Robinson was thrown from one side to the other. Every moment\nhe expected the ship to sink. He turned pale and trembled with fear.\n\"Ah, if I were only at home with my parents, safe on the land,\" he\nsaid. \"If I ever get safe out of this, I will go home as quickly as\nI can and stay with my dear parents!\" The storm raged the whole day\nand the whole night. But on the next morning the wind went down and\nthe sea was calm. By evening the sky was clear and Robinson was again\ncheerful. He ran about the ship. He looked at the glittering stars\nand was contented and happy.\nV\nTHE SHIPWRECK\nSeveral weeks went by. Robinson had long ago forgotten his resolutions\nto return home. It was very hot. The glowing sun beat down upon the\nship. The wide surface of the sea glistened. No breeze stirred. The\nsails hung loose on the top of the mast. But far away on the shore\ncould be seen a black bank of clouds.\nAll at once the ship was thrown violently to one side by a fierce gust\nof wind. Robinson threw himself on the deck. The sea began to rise\nand fall. The waves were as high as mountains. Now the ship was borne\naloft to the skies, and now it would seem that it must be overwhelmed\nin the sea. When it sank down between the great waves of water,\nRobinson thought it would never again rise. The waves beat violently\non the ship's side. Robinson went down the steps into his little room,\nbut he came back full of anxiety. He believed every minute he would\nmeet death in the waves. The night at last came on. The lightning\nflashed. The storm howled. The ship trembled. The water roared. So\nthe night wore on. The storm raged for six days. Then on the seventh\nday it was somewhat abated. But the hope was soon dashed. The storm\nhad abated but to get new strength. Suddenly it bore down with frightful\npower on the doomed vessel, struck it, and shot it like an arrow\nthrough the water. Then Robinson felt a fearful crash. The ship\ngroaned as if it would fall into a thousand pieces. It had struck a\nrock and there held fast. At the same moment the sailors raised the\ncry, \"The ship has sprung a leak!\" The water surged into the ship.\nAll called for help. Each one thought only of himself. There was only\none boat. The others had all been torn away. It was soon let down into\nthe sea. All sprang in. For a moment the sailors forgot the waves,\nbut all at once a wave, mountains high, struck the boat and swallowed\nit up. Robinson shut his eyes. The water roared in his ears. He sank\ninto the sea.\nVI\nROBINSON SAVED\nRobinson was borne down far, far into the ocean. He attempted to work\nhimself up, so that he could see light and breathe the air. But again\nand again the waves carried him down. Finally a wave threw him up and\nhe saw, for a moment, the light of day and got a breath of air, but\nthe next instant he was deep under the water. Then another wave bore\nhim on its crest. He breathed a deep breath and at the same time saw\nland not far away. He bent all his strength toward reaching the land.\nHe got almost to it, when a wave caught him and hurled him on a\njutting rock. With all his strength he seized the rock with both hands\nand held on.\nPresently he worked himself up a little and at last got a foothold.\nBut, scarcely had he done so, when his strength left him and he fell\non the ground as one dead. But he soon revived. He opened his eyes\nand looked around. He saw above him the blue sky, and under him the\nsolid brown earth, and before him the gray angry sea. He felt to see\nif he still breathed. The storm had destroyed the ship. The waves had\noverwhelmed the boat. The water wished to draw him into the deep. The\nrocks seemed to want to hurl him back, but storm and wave and rock\nhad accomplished nothing. There was One who was stronger than they.\nThen Robinson sank on his knees and folded his hands. Tears came to\nhis eyes. He breathed hard. At last he said, \"Dear Father in Heaven,\nI live. Thou hast saved me. I thank Thee.\"\nVII\nTHE FIRST NIGHT ON LAND\n\"Where are my companions?\" That was his first thought. He began to\ncall and halloo: \"Where are you?\" \"Come here!\" But no one answered.\nThen he wished to see if anyone lived on the land, and he cried, \"Is\nthere no one here? Hello!\" but all remained still.\nAll at once he drew himself together and shrank back. He heard a bush\nrustle and the thought came like a flash, \"That is a wild animal that\nwill pounce upon me and tear my flesh with his teeth and claws. How\nshall I save myself? Where shall I fly for safety? Where shall I turn?\nI have nothing but my clothes and my life saved from the water. All\nthat I had the waves have swallowed up.\"\nAnd then hunger and thirst began to trouble him. He had eaten nothing\nthe whole day and the salt water had made him sick.\nIn the meantime the night had come on. Robinson was very tired.\nEverything was new and strange. He did not know which way to move.\nHe was in the greatest terror.\nHe expected to hear the roar of wild beasts from every secluded spot.\nLions and tigers and dreadful serpents filled his thoughts. He must\nfind shelter from them. But where should he pass the night? Not a\nhouse, a hut or a cave was to be seen. He stood a long time hesitating\nand did not know what to do. Finally he thought, \"I will do as the\nbirds do and get into a tree.\" He very soon found a tree which had\nsuch thick branches that it would hold him up.\nRobinson climbed up into the tree, made himself as comfortable as\npossible, said his prayers, and as he was thoroughly exhausted, he\nsoon fell asleep. When he awoke the sun was high in the sky. At first\nhe could not remember where he was. Then the truth burst upon him.\nHe tried to move. He was stiff and sore. His flesh was bruised from\nbeing thrown against the rocks and beaten by the waves.\nHe was dreadfully thirsty. His mouth and throat were dry and parched\nfrom the salt water. His tongue was thick and swollen. He said, \"I\nmust find some water to drink or I shall die!\"\nIt was hard work to get down from the tree. His limbs and back ached\nfrom sitting in the tree all night At last he slipped down and fell\non the ground. He clasped his hands in prayer and thanked God for keeping\nhim through the night.\n[Illustration]\nThen he got up and tried to walk. He was so weak he could not stand.\nHe threw himself down on the ground and began to sob and cry, \"O Lord,\ndo not let me die! Do not let me die!\" As he lay there he heard a\nqueer sound. He listened. It sounded like water running over rocks.\nHe tried to get to the place from which the sound came. He tried to\nwalk. When he fell he crawled on his hands and knees. At last the sound\nwas close by. He dragged himself up on the rocks. Yes, there was a\nspring of clear, cool, sparkling water bubbling up and trickling over\nthe stones. Robinson was so thirsty he put his face into the water\nand drank and drank.\nThen he sat down, and after a while he drank again and again.\nAfter Robinson had satisfied his thirst and rested awhile, he felt\nmuch better. He said, \"I must try to walk and see whether I can find\nsomething to eat.\" He found many kinds of fruits and berries all\naround him, but he was afraid to eat them, as they were strange to\nhim and he feared they might be poisonous.\nAs he was walking along, all at once he spied a tall plant in the\ndistance which had a familiar look. It looked like corn. He said to\nhimself, \"I wonder if it can be corn.\" At last he came near enough\nto recognize it. Yes, it was corn. It did not look exactly like the\ncorn that he saw at home, but still he knew it would be safe to eat\nit. He broke off an ear and eagerly ate the kernels raw. Oh, how good\nit was! Robinson could not remember anything that tasted half so good.\nHe ate as much as he wanted and then filled his pockets with ears of\ncorn for his supper. Then he went back to the spring to get another\ndrink.\n[Illustration]\nVIII\nROBINSON ON AN ISLAND\nAfter his hunger and thirst were satisfied, Robinson thought he would\ntry to find another dwelling place. \"My legs are stiff and sore from\nsitting so uncomfortably last night, and there is so much danger of\nfalling,\" he said. \"I will climb yonder hill and look around and see\non which side the houses are. I will find me a stick to help me on\nmy way.\"\nHe broke a stick from a dry bush and climbed up the steep sides of\nthe hill. After a half hour's climb he was on top. What a sight met\nhis eyes! There were no houses, no huts to be seen, no smoke arose\nfrom the forest, no field could be seen. Nothing but trees and bush,\nsand and rock.\n\"I am then upon an island alone, without food, without shelter,\nwithout weapons! What will become of me?\" he cried. \"I am a prisoner.\nThe island is my prison, the waves are the guards which will not allow\nme to get away. Will no ship ever come to set me free?\"\nHe stretched his gaze out to the sea till his eyes ached, but he saw\nno ship.\nRobinson came down and seated himself on a stone and considered what\nhe should do. It was not yet noon, yet he feared greatly the next\nnight. \"I must find me a better bed,\" was his first clear thought.\n[Illustration]\nIX\nROBINSON'S SHELTER\nRobinson saw at a little distance what seemed to be a cleft or an\nopening in a huge rock. \"If I could only get inside and find room to\nstay over night. The rock would protect me from rain, from the wind\nand wild animals better than a tree.\"\nHe long sought in vain for a place wide enough to allow him to get\ninto the opening in the rock. He was about to give up, when he seized\nhold of a branch of a thorn tree growing on the side of the rock. He\nlooked closer and saw that it grew out of the cleft in the rock. He\nsaw, too, that at this point the opening was wider and that he had\nonly to remove the tree in order to get in. \"The hole shall be my\ndwelling,\" he said. \"I must get the thorn tree out so that I can have\nroom.\"\nThat was easily said. He had neither axe nor saw, nor knife nor spade.\nHow could he do it? He had nothing but his hands. He tried to pull\nit out by the roots, but in vain. He wasn't strong enough.\n\"I must dig it out,\" said Robinson.\nHe scratched with his nails, but the earth was too hard. What should\nhe do? He sought a stick with a fork in it and dug in the earth, but\nit was slow work. Then he found a clamshell. He did better with it,\nbut it was hard work, and Robinson was not used to hard work. The\nsweat ran down his face and he had often to stop and rest in the\nshade. The sun burned so hot and the rock so reflected the heat that\nhe was all but overcome. But he worked on. When evening came, he would\nsleep in the tree and next morning he would go at it again. On the\nthird day the roots were all laid bare.\nBut the roots were fast in the clefts of the rock and he could not\nloosen it, try ever so hard. What would he not have given for an axe,\nor at least a knife. And yet he had never thought of their value when\nat home. He attempted to cut one root through with his clam-shell,\nbut the shell crumbled and would not cut the hard wood.\nHe stood for a long time thinking, not knowing what next to do. He\nmade up his mind that he must have something harder than the shell\nto cut with. Then he tried a stone with a sharp edge, but soon found\nhe needed another one, however. He found one. Then he set the sharp\none on the wood and struck it with the heavy one. In this way he slowly\ncut the roots in two.\nOn the fifth day there was yet left one big root, bigger than any of\nthe others. Robinson got up early in the morning. He worked the whole\nday. Finally it gave a crack and it, too, was broken.\nRobinson had only now to remove the loose earth inside the cleft. He\nfound the opening could be made large and roomy. It was choked up with\ndirt. He dug out enough to allow him room enough to make a place to\nlie down. \"In the future,\" he thought, \"I will take out all the dirt\nand then I shall be comfortable.\"\nIt was then dark and the moon shone bright in the heavens. Robinson\ngathered a heap of dry grass and made himself a safe bed. But as he\nlay there he saw the moonbeams shining into his cave. He sprang up.\n\"How easy,\" he thought, \"for wild animals to creep in here upon me.\"\nHe crawled out and looked around. Not far from the cave he saw a large\nflat stone. With great trouble he rolled it to the opening of his\ncave, but before this the morning began to dawn. He went inside the\nshelter, seized the stone with both hands and rolled it into the\nopening till it almost closed it. \"I have now a closed home. I can\nagain stretch my legs. Wind and rain cannot get at me, nor wild\nanimals.\"\nX\nROBINSON MAKES A HAT\nRefreshed and with renewed strength, Robinson awoke late the next\nmorning, but he had a bad headache. The day before the hot tropic sun\nhad beat down on his bare head, as he worked at his cave. He was so\nbusy that he forgot to go into the shade from time to time in order\nto shield himself from the scorching sunshine. He felt a new need.\n\"I must make me a hat,\" said Robinson to himself. \"But how?\" He had\nno straw, no thread and no needle. He looked around for a long time,\nbut found nothing. The sun mounted even higher in the heavens, and\nshone hotter and hotter. He went to seek shelter at last in the deep\nshade of a nearby tall plant.\nAs he stood there he examined the plant more carefully. \"Out of these\nleaves,\" he said, \"I might make a hat.\" He climbed up the short stem\nof the plant and saw that it had not only leaves as long as himself,\nbut between the leaves were big bunches of long, thin fruit, as thick\nas three fingers and similar in shape to a cucumber.\nHe plucked the leaves and fruit and was about to eat some of the fruit\nwhen he heard near him a light stir as of some animal. He rolled the\nleaves and fruit together and hastened back to the cave.\n[Illustration: THE BANANA TREE]\nThe bananas, for that is what the fruit proved to be, were sweet and\nrefreshing. After he had eaten enough he set immediately about making\nhis hat. He broke off a couple of reeds. He bent one into a hoop. But\nthe hoop would not hold without thread. Sometimes it was too large\nand sometimes too small. But it must fit his head. He pulled up grass\nand bound its ends together, but the grass stalks were not strong enough.\nHe hunted until he found a tree whose inner bark was soft and came\nout in long fibres. He bound his reed with this. This, too, made the\nhoop soft so that it did not hurt his head.\nWhen the hoop was ready and fitted to his head he found the banana\nleaves could not be used. Their veins ran straight out from the\nmidrib. This made them easily torn, and besides, they were too large.\nThey were not the best shape. He saw that leaves about a foot long\nwith broad and tapering points would be best. He saw too, that if the\nleaves had their veins running parallel with the midrib they would\nbe stronger. He made search and at length found leaves that seemed\nmade for his purpose. They were thick and leathery and tapered from\nbase to apex like a triangle.\nHe now proceeded with his hat-making. He would take a leaf and lay\nit on the ground with the base toward him. Then he laid the hoop on\nthe base of the leaf, wrapped it around the hoop and fastened it with\nthorns. He did the same with the other leaves. The thorns were his\npins. At last he pinned the tips of the leaves together at the top\nand the hat was ready. It looked just like a big cone, but it kept\nout the heat of the sun.\nRobinson now had corn and bananas and when he was thirsty he drank\na handful of water from the spring. He had been now nine days on the\nisland. Every day he looked out on the sea until his eyes ached to\nsee if he might discover a ship.\nHe could not understand why no ship came his way. \"Who knows how long\nI must wait here?\" said he sorrowfully. Then the thought came to him:\n\"You will not be able to keep track of the days unless you write it\ndown.\"\nXI\nROBINSON'S CALENDAR\nThe matter of keeping track of time puzzled Robinson very much. It\nwas getting more difficult every day to keep it in his memory. He must\nwrite down the days as they slip by, but where and how? He had neither\npen, ink, nor paper. Should he mark every day with a colored stone\non the smooth side of the huge rock wall within whose clefts he had\ndug out his cave? But the rain would wash off the record and then he\nwould lose all his bearings. Then he thought of the beach, but there\nthe wind and waves would soon also erase it.\nHe thought a long time. \"I must find something,\" he said to himself\non which to keep a record. \"I must also know when Sunday is. I must\nrest one day in the week. Yes, I must find something,\" he said, \"on\nwhich to write.\" And finally he found it. He chose two trees standing\nnear each other and then sought for a small sharp stone, which he could\nmake still sharper by striking it on another. When he had got this\npen ready he cut into the bark of one tree:\n  _Shipwreck, Sunday, 10th of September, 1875._\nHe made seven cuts in a row for the seven days in the week. The first\ncut was longer than the others. This was to represent the Sunday. At\nsundown every day he made a new cut in the bark.\nThe other tree he called the month tree. On its stem he was to cut\na mark every time his week tree told him a month had passed. But he\nmust be careful, for the months were not of equal length. But he remembered\nthat his teacher had once said in school that the months could be\ncounted on the knuckles and hollows of the hand, in such a way that\nthe long and short months could be found easily and he could tell in\nthis way the number of days in each.\nRobinson worked at enlarging his shelter a little every day. He was\nsorely at loss to find something in which to carry the dirt away from\nthe entrance, or enough so that it would not choke up the opening.\nA large clam shell was all he could think of at present. He would carry\nthe dirt to the entrance and some distance away, and then throw it.\nFortunately the ground sloped away rapidly, so that he needed a kind\nof platform before his door.\nHe was careful to open the cleft at some distance above the large\nopening. For the air was damp and impure in the shelter. But with the\nopening made high above, fresh air was constantly passing into, and\nimpure air out of, his cave. Light, too, was admitted in this way.\nXII\nROBINSON MAKES A HUNTING BAG\nSeveral days passed with Robinson's hat-making and his calendar-making\nand his watching the sea. Every day his corn and bananas became more\ndistasteful to him. And he planned a longer journey about the island\nto see if something new to eat could be found.\nBut he considered that if he went a distance from his cave and found\nsomething it would really be of little use to him. \"I could eat my\nfill,\" he said, \"but that is all. And by the time I get back to my\ncave I will again be hungry. I must find something in which I can\ngather and carry food.\" He found nothing.\n\"The people in New York,\" he said, \"have baskets, or pockets, or bags\nmade of coarse cloth. Of them all, I could most easily make the net,\nperhaps, of vines. But the little things would fall out of the net.\nI will see whether I can make a net of small meshes.\"\nBut he soon saw that the vines did not give a smooth surface. He\nthought for a long while. In his garden at home his father had\nsometimes bound up the young trees with the soft inner bark of others.\nHe wondered if he could use this. He stripped away the outer bark from\nthe tree, which before had yielded him a fibre for his hat, and pulled\noff the long, smooth pieces of the inner bark. He twisted them\ntogether. Then he thought how he could weave the strands together.\nHe looked at his shirt. A piece was torn off and unravelled. He could\nsee the threads go up and down. He saw that some threads go from left\nto right (woof), others lengthwise (the warp).\nFrom his study of the woven cloth, Robinson saw he must have a firmer\nthread than the strips of bark gave alone. He separated his bark into\nlong, thin strips. These he twisted into strands or yarn by rolling\nbetween his hands, or on a smooth surface. As he twisted it he wound\nit on a stick. It was slow, hard work. Of all his work, the making\nof yarn or thread gave him the most trouble. He learned to twist it\nby knotting the thread around the spindle or bobbin on which he wound\nit and twirling this in the air. He remembered sadly the old spinning\nwheel we had seen at his grandmother's house.\nHis next care was something to hold the threads while he wove them\nin and out. He had never seen a loom.\nAfter long study Robinson set two posts in the ground and these he\nbound with seventy-two strands horizontally under each other. Then\nhe tied in the top at the left another thread and wove it in and out\nthrough the seventy-two threads. So he tied seventy-two vertical\nstrands and wove them in and out. Thus he had a net three times as\nlong as his foot and as wide as long. He tied the four corners\ntogether. He made a woven handle for it and put it on his shoulder\nlike a sack, saying gleefully, \"This shall be my hunting bag.\"\n[Illustration: ROBINSON'S LOOM]\nXIII\nROBINSON EXPLORES THE ISLAND\nAfter Robinson made his hunting bag he was anxious to set off on his\njourney of exploring the island. So he arose very early next morning.\n\"Before it is hot,\" thought he, \"I will be quite a distance on my\njourney.\" He ate a couple of bananas, scooped up a few handfuls of\nwater from the spring, stuck a few ears of corn in his hunting bag,\ntook his stick in his hand and went forth. As he left his cave the\nthought struck him: \"What if I could not find my cave again? How can\nI manage so that I can come back to it? I will go away in one direction\nand return the same way; but suppose I were to lose the way?\"\nThen he noticed his shadow pointing like a great finger from the sea\ntoward the land. He could direct himself by that. He kept his shadow\nin front of him. He had noticed, too, that the wind always blew north\nof the point where the sun rose. This helped him. But sometimes the\nwind died down.\nHe had to climb over many rocks and pierce many thickets. At each step\nhe saw a rich growth of plants, stems, leaves, flowers, but nothing\nto eat, no fruits, or nuts. At length he came to a tree as high as\na small church steeple.\n[Illustration: COCOANUT PALM TREE]\nThen he thought of what his father had once said about the trees in\nstrange countries. \"Many are as tall as a church steeple and the nuts\nare as big as one's head.\" He looked again. Yes, there they hung among\nthe leaves, concealed high above in the crown! But _so_ high, it\nwas well that Robinson had learned to climb while on board the ship.\nHe quickly laid down his hunting bag and clambered up the smooth stem\nof the high tree, a palm. He picked off a nut and threw it down and\nthen several more, and climbed down again.\nBut the nuts were very hard. How should he open them? He had brought\nalong his sharp stone with which he had stripped off the inner bark.\nWith this he forced off the thick outer shell. But now came the hard\nnut within, and how hard it was! Striking it was of no use.\nThen he threw a great stone on the nut. The shell was crushed and a\nsnow-white kernel lay before him. It tasted like almond. With\nastonishment Robinson saw in the middle of the nut a large empty space\nwhich must have been filled with fluid as the inside was wet. He\nwished that he had the juice to drink, for he was very thirsty. With\nthis in view, he examined another and riper nut, and the outside came\noff more easily. But how could he break it and at the same time save\nthe juice? He studied the hull of the cocoanut on all sides. At the\nends were three little hollows. He attempted first to bore in with\nhis fingers, but he could not. \"Hold!\" he cried. \"Maybe I can cut them\nthere with the point of my stone knife.\" This was done without trouble\nand out of the hole flowed the sweet, white juice.\nRobinson put a couple of nuts in his hunting bag, and also the shells\nfrom the broken nuts. \"Now,\" he thought, \"I shall no longer have to\ndrink from my hand.\" With this thought he went on his way.\nAs Robinson came to a rock in his path, out jumped what Robinson took\nto be a rabbit. He ran after him to catch him, but the rabbit was much\nthe swifter. So Robinson hastened home, but before he reached it the\nstars were shining with their lustrous light. Tired Robinson stretched\nhis limbs on his bed of grass and leaves and slept soundly.\nXIV\nROBINSON AS A HUNTER\nAll the time Robinson was confined to the cave he kept thinking about\nthe rabbit he had seen and how he might catch one. Finally, he\ndetermined to make a spear. He broke down a thin, young sapling,\nstripped off its branches and in one end fastened a sharp stone. He\nthen went to bed, for he wanted to be up early for his first hunting\ntrip on the morrow.\nWith his hunting sack and spear, Robinson began to creep very, very\ncautiously through the underbrush. But he did not go far before he\nsaw a lot of rabbits feeding peacefully on the soft leaves and grass.\nHe drew back and threw his spear with all his might. But the spear\ndid not reach the rabbits. It fell far short and the rabbits sprang\nup and ran quickly away. He tried it several times with the same result.\nThen Robinson, discouraged, turned back home and ate his corn, bananas,\nand cocoanuts without meat. In the meantime he found a new kind of\nfood. He discovered a nest of eggs. How good they tasted to him!\nBut his longing for meat was still very great. \"I will try to make\na bow and arrow,\" he said. No sooner said than done. He bent a long\npiece of tough, young wood and stretched between the ends a cord\ntwisted out of the fiber taken from the cocoanut shell. He then sought\nfor a piece of wood for arrows. He split the ends with his flint knife\nand fastened in splinters of stone. At the other end he fastened on\nsome feathers found on the ground. The arrows flew through the air\nwith great swiftness. \"They will go far enough,\" thought Robinson,\n\"if I could only hit anything.\"\nHe practised shooting. He stuck his stone knife in a tree and shot\nat it the whole day long. At first he could not hit it at all. The\narrows flew far from the mark. After a while he could hit the tree,\nbut not the knife. Then as he practised, his arm grew ever surer, until\nat last he could hit the knife at almost every attempt. After a few\ndays he again went rabbit hunting. He thought that the rabbit did not\noffer a mark so high as his knife, so he stuck a stone in the ground\nand practised shooting at that. He gradually increased the distance\nuntil he could hit the mark at twenty or thirty yards.\nThe next morning Robinson took his bow and arrows and went out to\nhunt. He aimed at a rabbit, shot, and it fell, pierced by the arrow.\nHis very first shot was successful.\nHe hastened up and took the dead rabbit on his shoulder, carried it\nto his cave and skinned it. Then he cut off a nice, large piece of\nmeat and was going to roast it, but alas, he had no fire!\nXV\nROBINSON'S SHOES AND PARASOL\nThe next morning Robinson could not get up. His feet were swollen and\nsore in consequence of walking without shoes over thorns and stones.\nHe must remain the whole day in his cave.\nBefore him, in the sun, his walking stick stuck in the ground. He\nthought how he had been troubled yesterday to find his way and about\nthe shadow. He had now time to study it. He watched it the whole day\nthrough. In the morning it pointed toward the land. In the evening\ntoward the sea. This comes from the daily movement of the sun. He\ndetermined to study the matter more carefully.\nRobinson got up and with great effort walked to the spring. There he\ncooled his burning feet, and gathered some large leaves, which he\nbound on them. He decided to remain in his cave a few days, for he\nhad enough food stored up to last him some length of time. He planned\nhow he might make himself a pair of shoes. As soon as his feet were\nwell, he sought out some thick bark and put fastenings of tough, strong\nfiber on it. These served very well to protect his feet.\nBut he must have some further protection from the sun. It beamed so\nhot that his hat was not enough. He made a parasol out of leaves like\nhis hat. He took a straight stick for a handle. He tied some reeds\ntogether and bent them into a hoop. He then fastened the upper end\nof the stick in the center of the hoop by means of six reeds which\nformed the ribs of the parasol. To keep out the sun he covered this\nframework with large, broad leaves. With a cord he tied the stem ends\nof the leaves to the stick just above where the reeds were tied.\nSpread out, these broad leaves completely covered the ribs. Their tips\nreached over the hoop. They were fastened together by means of small,\nneedle-like fish-bones Robinson had found on the beach.\nXVI\nGETTING FIRE\nNow Robinson had heard that savages take two dry pieces of wood and\nrub them so long on each other that they at length begin to burn.\nHe tried it. The sweat ran down his cheeks, but every time the wood\nwas about to catch fire his strength would give out, and he was\nobliged to rest, and when he began again the wood was cold.\n\"How will it be in winter,\" he cried, \"when it is cold, and I have\nno fire?\" He must try other ways of preparing meat for his table. He\nmust think of some other way of getting fire. He remembered that once,\nwhen a boy at home, he had in playing with a stick made it hot by twirling\nit on end on a piece of wood. \"I will try this,\" he thought. He\nsearched for a good hard stick and a piece of wood upon which to turn\nor twirl it with his hands. Having found the best materials at hand,\nhe began to twirl the stick. He made a little hollow in the block of\nwood in which to turn his upright stick. There was heat but no fire.\nHe twirled and twirled, but he could not get the wood hot enough to\nblaze up or ignite. He had not skill. Besides his hands were not used\nto such rough treatment. Soon they blistered and this method had to\nbe given up.\n\"I must have fire,\" he still thought, and recalled the sparks that\nflew from the stone pavements of the streets when the iron shoes of\nthe horses struck them as they slipped and strained at their cruel\nloads. Why may I not get fire by striking together two stones? He\nsought out two hard stones and with great diligence kept striking them\ntogether until his strength gave out, and he was obliged again to\nacknowledge failure.\nHe remembered that sometimes travelers put the meat underneath the\nsaddle and ride on it until it is soft. He tried it with pounding.\nHe laid some of the meat on a flat stone and pounded it. It became\nquite soft and tasted very well. He then tried hanging it in the sun\nand finally wrapped it in leaves and buried it for a few hours in the\nhot sand.\nXVII\nROBINSON MAKES SOME FURNITURE\nOne thing troubled Robinson very much. He could not sit comfortably\nwhile eating. He had neither chair nor table. He wished to make them,\nbut that was a big job. He had no saw, no hammer, no auger and no\nnails. Robinson could not, therefore, make a table of wood.\nNot far from his cave he had seen a smooth, flat stone. \"Ay,\" thought\nhe, \"perhaps I can make me a table out of stone.\" He picked out the\nbest stone and built up four columns as high as a table and on these\nhe laid his large, flat stone. It looked like a table, sure enough,\nbut there were rough places and hollows in it. He wanted it smooth.\nHe took clay and filled up the holes and smoothed it off. When the\nclay dried, the surface was smooth and hard. Robinson covered it with\nleaves and decked it with flowers till it was quite beautiful.\nWhen the table was done, Robinson began on a chair, He made it also\nof stone. It had no back. It looked like a bench. It was uncomfortable\nto sit on. Robinson covered it with moss. Then it was an easy seat.\nTable and chair were now ready. Robinson could not move them from one\ncorner to another, nor when he sat on the chair could he put his feet\nunder the table, and yet he thought them excellent pieces of\nfurniture.\nEvery day Robinson went hunting and shot a rabbit, but the meat would\nnot keep. At home they would have put it in the cellar. If only he\nhad a cellar! He saw near his cave a hole in the rock. He dug it out\na little with his mussel shell and found that it led back under a rock.\nFrom much bending over in digging, Robinson's back, unused to severe\ntoil, ached wretchedly. He decided to make a spade. With his flint\nhe bored four holes in a great, round mussel shell. They formed a\nrectangle as long as a little finger and as wide. Through these holes\nhe drew cocoanut fibre and bound the shell to a handle fast and\nstrong.\nWith his spade he dug a hole so deep that he could stand in it\nupright. Then he put in a couple of shelves made of flat stones. In\nthis cellar he put his rabbit meat and his eggs. Then he laid branches\nover it and finally covered the whole with leaves.\nXVIII\nROBINSON BECOMES A SHEPHERD\nWith his bow and arrow, Robinson went hunting every day. The rabbits\nsoon learned to know him and let themselves be seldom seen. As soon\nas they saw him, they took alarm. They became timid and shy. One day\nRobinson went out as usual to shoot rabbits. He found none. But as\nhe came to a great rock he heard from behind a new sound, one he had\nnot heard before in the island. Ba-a-a, it sounded.\n\"A kid,\" thought Robinson, \"like that with which I have so often\nplayed at home.\"\nHe slipped noiselessly around the rock and behold, really there stood\na kid. He tried to call it, but the kid sought safety in flight. He\nhastened after it. Then he noticed that it was lame in one fore foot.\nIt ran into some brush, where Robinson seized it by the horns and held\nit fast.\nHow Robinson rejoiced! He stroked it and fondled it. Then he thought,\nhow could it come into this wilderness on this lonesome island? \"Has\nyour ship been cast upon the rocks too, and been broken to pieces?\nYou dear thing, you shall be my comrade.\" He seized the goat by the\nlegs, and no matter how it kicked, carried it to his cave.\nThen he fetched quickly a cocoanut shell full of water and washed and\nbathed the goat's wounded leg. A stone had rolled down from the hill\nand had inflicted a severe wound on its left fore leg, or perhaps it\nhad stepped into a crack in the rocks. Robinson tore off a piece of\nlinen from his shirt, dipped it in water and bound it with shreds of\nthe cocoanut upon the wound. Then he pulled some grass and moss and\nmade a soft bed near the door of the cave. After he had given it\nwater, it looked at him with thankful eyes and licked his hand.\nRobinson could not sleep that night. He thought continually of his\ngoat and got up time and again to see if it was safe. The moon shone\nclear in the heavens. As Robinson sat before the goat's bed he looked\ndown on his new possession as lovingly as a mother on her child.\nThe next morning Robinson's first thought was, \"I am no longer alone.\nI have a companion, my goat.\" He sprang up and looked for it. There\nshe lay on her side, still sleeping.\nAs he stood and considered, the thought came to him that perhaps the\ngoat had escaped from its keeper. There must then be some one living\non the land. He quickly put on his shoes and his hat, took his\nparasol, and ran to the rock where he had found the goat.\nHe called, he sought, he peered about to see if some shepherd were\nthere somewhere. He found nothing. He found no trace of man. There\nwas no road, no bridge, no field, no logs, not even a chip or shaving\nto show that the hand of man had been there.\nBut what was that? In the distance ran a herd of goats over the rocks.\nBut no dog followed them and no shepherd. They ran wild on the island.\nThey had perhaps been left there by some ship. As he came home he\nnoticed the goat sorrowfully. The bandage had become dry. The goat\nmight be suffering pain. Robinson loosened the bandage, washed the\nwound again and bound it up anew. It was so trustful. It ran after\nhim and he decided always to protect it.\n\"I will always be your shepherd and take care of you,\" he said.\nXIX\nROBINSON BUILDS A HOME FOR HIS GOAT\nBut the goat was a new care. Wild animals could come and kill and\ncarry Robinson's goat away while he slept, and if the goat got\nfrightened while he was hunting it would run away.\n\"I will have to make me a little yard in front of my cave,\" he said,\n\"for my goat to live in.\" But from whence must come the tools? He had\nneither hatchet nor saw. Where then were the stakes to come from? He\nwent in search of something. After hunting for a long time he came\nupon a kind of thistle about two feet higher than himself, having at\nits top a red torch-like blossom. There were a great many of them.\n\"Good!\" thought Robinson. \"If I could only dig up enough of them and\nplant them thick around the door of my cave, I would have just the\nthing. No one could get at me, nor at the goat, either, The thorns\nwould keep anything from creeping through, peeping in or getting\nover.\"\nSo he took his mussel-shell spade and went to work. It was pretty\nhard, but at length he succeeded in laying bare the roots of quite\na number. But he could not drag them to his cave on account of the\nthorns sticking in him. He thought a long time. Finally, he sought\nout two strong poles or branches which were turned up a little at one\nend and like a sled runner. To these he tied twelve cross-pieces with\nbark. To the foremost he tied a strong rope made from cocoa fiber.\nHe then had something that looked much like a sled on which to draw\nhis thistle-like brush to his cave. But for one day he had done enough.\nThe transplanting of the thistles was hard work. His spade broke and\nhe had to make a new one. In the afternoon he broke his spade again.\nAnd as he made his third one, he made up his mind that it was no use\ntrying to dig with such a weak tool in the hard ground. It would only\nbreak again.\n\"If I only had a pick.\" But he had none. He found a thick, hard, sharp\nstone. With it he picked up the hard earth, but had to bend almost\ndouble in using it. \"At home,\" he thought, \"they have handles to\npicks.\" The handle was put through a hole in the iron. He turned the\nmatter over and over in his mind, how he might put a hole through the\nstone. But he found no means. He searched out a branch with a crotch\nat one end. He tied the stone to this with strong cocoa fiber and\nbark.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON'S TOOLS]\nHow his eye glistened as he looked at the new tool! Now he began to\nwork. He first loosened up the earth with his pick, then he dug it\nout with his spade and planted in a high thistle. Many days he had\nto work, but finally one evening the hedge was ready. He had a row\nin a semicircle in front of his cave. He counted the marks on his calendar\ntree. The day on which he had begun to make his hedge he had\nespecially marked out. He had worked fourteen days.\nHe had completed his hedge with the exception of a small hole that\nmust serve for a door. But the door must not be seen from without.\nAs Robinson thought, it came to him that there was still place for\ntwo thistles on the outside. He could easily get in, but the entrance\nwas difficult to find from the outside.\nRobinson looked on his hedge from without. It was not yet thick\nenough. For this reason he planted small thistles between the larger\nones. With the digging them out and transplanting them he was a whole\nweek longer.\nFinally, the hedge and the yard were ready. Now Robinson could rest\nwithout fear and sleep in his cave, and could have his goat near him\nall the time. It delighted him greatly. It ran after him continually\nlike a dog. When he came back from an absence, it bleated for joy and\nran to meet him as soon as he got inside the hedge. Robinson felt that\nhe was not entirely alone. He had now a living being near him.\nXX\nROBINSON GETS READY FOR WINTER\nThere was one thing that troubled Robinson greatly. \"What will become\nof me when the winter comes? I will have no fire to warm me. I have\nno clothing to protect me from the cold, and where shall I find food\nwhen snow and ice cover all the ground and when the trees are bare\nand the spring is frozen? It will be cold then in my cave; what shall\nI do? It is cold and rainy already. I believe this is harvest time\nand winter will soon be here. Winter and no stove, no winter clothing,\nno winter store of food and no winter dwelling. What shall I do?\"\nHe considered again the project of making fire. He again sought out\ntwo pieces of wood and sat down and rubbed them together. The sweat\nrolled down his face. When the wood began to get warm, his hand would\nbecome tired, and he would have to stop. When he began again the wood\nwas cold. He worked for an hour or two, then he laid the wood aside\nand said, \"I don't believe I can do it I must do the next best thing.\nI can at least get warm clothing to protect me from the rain and\nsnow.\" He looked down at his worn, thin clothing, his trousers, his\nshirt, his jacket; they had become so thin and worn that they were\nthreadbare.\n\"I will take the skins of the hares which I have shot and will make\nme something,\" he thought. He washed and cleaned them, but he needed\na knife and he set about making one. He split one end of a tough piece\nof wood, thrust his stone blade in it and wound it with cocoa fibre.\nHis stone knife now had a handle. He could now cut the skins quite\nwell. But what should he do for needle and thread? Maybe the vines\nwould do. \"But they are hardly strong enough,\" he thought. He pulled\nthe sinews from the bones of the rabbit and found them hard. Maybe\nhe could use them. He found fish skeletons on the seashore and bored\na hole in the end of the small, sharp rib bones. Then he threaded his\nbone needle with the rabbit sinews and attempted to sew, but it would\nnot go. His needle broke. The skin was too hard. He bored holes in\nthe edge of the pieces of skin and sewed through the holes. This went\nvery well.\nHe sewed the skins together with the hair side inward, made himself\na jacket, a pair of trousers, a hat, and finally covered his parasol\nwith rabbit skin, for the rain had already dripped through the leaves\nof it. All went well, only the trousers did not fit. He loosened them\nand puckered them to no purpose. \"Anyway,\" he thought, \"I am now well\nprotected from the cold, when it does come.\"\n[Illustration: ROBINSON IN HIS NEW SUIT]\nXXI\nHOW ROBINSON LAYS UP A STORE OF FOOD\nNow for the food. Could Robinson preserve the meat? He had often heard\nhis mother tell about preserving meat in salt. He had even eaten salt\nmeat, pickled meat. But where could he get salt?\nOne day when the wind blew hard the water was driven upon the shore\nand filled a little hollow. After a few days the ground glistened\nwhite as snow where the water had been. Was it snow? Robinson took\nit in his hands and put it in his mouth. It was salt. The sun had\nevaporated the water in the hollow--had vaporized it--and the air had\ndrunk it up. What was left behind? Salt. Now he could get salt as long\nas he needed it.\nHe took cocoanut shells and strewed salt in them. Then he cut the\nrabbit meat in thin strips, rubbed them with salt, and laid them one\non the other in the salt in the shells. He covered it over with a\nlayer of salt. He put over each shell the half of a larger one and\nweighted it down with stones. After a period of fourteen days he found\nthe meat quite red. It had pickled.\nBut he did not stop here. He gathered and stored in his cellar\ncocoanuts and corn in such quantities that he would be supplied for\na whole winter. It seemed best to catch a number of rabbits, build\na house for them and keep them. Then he could kill one occasionally\nand have fresh meat. Then it came to him that goats would be much better,\nfor they would give milk. He determined immediately to have a herd\nof goats. He made a string or lasso out of cocoa fibre.\nThen he went out, slipped up quietly to a herd of goats and threw the\nlasso over one. But the lasso slipped from the horns and the goat ran\naway. The next day he had better luck. He threw the lasso, drew it\ntight and the goat was captured. He brought it home. He rejoiced when\nhe saw that it gave milk. He was happy when he got his first cocoanut\nshell full of sweet rich milk. His goat herd grew. He soon had five\ngoats. He had no more room in his yard. He could not provide food\nenough. He must let them out. He must make another hedge around his\nyard so that the goats could get food and yet be kept from going away.\nHe got stakes from the woods and gathered them before his cave. He\nsharpened them and began to drive them in the earth. But it rained\nmore and more each day. He was wet through as he worked. He had\nfinally to stop work, for the rain was too heavy.\nXXII\nROBINSON'S DIARY\nRobinson was much disturbed because he had no means of keeping a\nrecord of things as they happened from day to day. He had his\ncalendar, it is true. He would not lose track of the time. But he\nwished for some way to write down his thoughts and what happened. So\nhe kept up keen search for anything that would serve him for this\npurpose.\nEvery time he journeyed about the island he kept careful watch for\nsomething that he might write upon. He thought of the leaves of the\npalm tree, the white under surface of the shelf fungus. But these he\nfound would not do. He tried many kinds of bark and leaves. There was\na kind of tall reed or grass growing in the marshes whose rind seemed\ngood when dried. He examined the inner bark of many trees. He at last\nfound that the inner bark of a tree which resembled our elm tree\nworked best. He would cut through the bark with his stone knife around\nthe tree. At about one foot from this he would cut another ring. He\nthen would cut through the bark lengthwise from one circular cut to\nthe other. He could then peel off the section easily. While it was\nyet full of sap he would separate the soft, tough, thin inner layer\nof the bark. This usually came off in sheets without a break. When\nthese sheets of bark were stretched and dried they could be used very\nnicely instead of paper.\nRobinson next searched for something that would serve him as ink, and\nthis was much easier to find than paper. He had noticed many kinds\nof galls of many different colors growing on trees. He did not know\nwhat they were, or how they grew, but he had learned in his father's\nstore that ink was often made from galls gathered from trees. \"Anyway,\"\nhe thought, \"I can get ink from the cuttle-fish.\" He had watched this\nanimal get away from its enemies by sending out a cloud of purplish\nfluid, in which to hide as it darted away. He had learned also that\nindigo is made from the leaves of a plant. He had noticed a plant\ngrowing in the open places in the forest whose leaves turned black\nwhen dried.\nRobinson gathered a quantity of gall-nuts and soaked them in water.\nTo the black fluid thus obtained he added a little rice water to make\nit flow well, and this served very well as an ink. He kept his ink\nin a cup made from a cocoanut shell.\nHe was not long in getting a pen, though the lack of a good sharp\nknife made it hard to make a good one. In going about he had gathered\na quantity of large feathers. He saved these for the time when he\nshould have his paper and ink ready. Now, he cut away a quill to a\npoint and split it up a little way. He was now supplied with writing\nmaterials. \"Is it not wonderful,\" he thought, \"how all our wants are\nfilled? We have only to want a thing badly enough and it comes.\"\nRobinson began at once to write down the date for each day and the\nmain thing he did or that happened on it. He called this his diary.\nHe had now a better way of keeping time than on his tree calendar.\nHe did not need it any more.\nYou have no doubt wondered how Robinson could work in his cave,\nespecially at night without a light. The truth is, it was a great\nsource of discomfort to him. At sunset he was in total darkness in\nhis cave. During the day light enough streamed in from the open doorway.\nTo be alone in total darkness is not pleasant. \"If I only had fire!\"\nhe said again and again.\nHe watched the many large beetles and fireflies flash their light in\nthe dark of the evening as he sat in front of his shelter. The thought\ncame to him that if he only had some way of keeping together a number\nof them, they would serve very well for a candle in his cave at night.\nHow he longed for a glass bottle such as he had so often wantonly\nbroken when at home! Back of his shelter there was a hill where the\nrock layers jutted out. He had noticed here several times the thin\ntransparent rock that he had seen in his father's store. It is called\nisinglass.\n\"I will make a living lantern,\" he said aloud in his eagerness.\nHe soon had a suitable piece pried loose. He cut a part of a cocoanut\nshell away and in its place he put a sheet of isinglass. That evening\nat dark he gathered several handfuls of the great fire beetles and\nput them in his lantern. What joy their glow gave him in his cave at\nnight. It was almost as much comfort as a companion. But while it\nlighted up the deep dark of the cave and enabled him to move about,\nhe was unable after all to write in his diary at night. Every morning\nhe set his captives free. In the evening he would go out and capture\nhis light.\nXXIII\nROBINSON IS SICK\nOne evening Robinson went to bed sound and well. The next morning he\nwas sick. Before he had only the heat of the day to complain of.\nTo-day he was freezing. He wanted to go to work to get warm, but even\nthis did not break his chill. It increased till his teeth chattered\nwith the cold.\n\"Perhaps,\" thought he, \"if I can sleep a little I will get better.\"\nBut he could not sleep. He was burning with fever and then shaking\nwith cold by turns. He felt a strong thirst, but he was so weak that\nhe could scarcely get the goat's milk. He had no sooner drunk the milk\nthan his tongue was as dry as before. He felt better after a night\nof sleep, but the next day his fever and chills were worse than before.\nThen he bethought him of his parents. How kindly his mother had taken\ncare of him! Now no one was near that could assist him.\n\"Ah,\" he sighed, \"must I die here? Who would bury me? There is no one\nto miss me.\" At this the tears came to his eyes.\nHis sickness increased with each day. Occasionally the fever would\ngo down sufficiently to allow him to get something to eat. Then it\nwould be worse than before. In his dire need he wanted to pray, but\nhe was so weak that he could only stammer, \"Dear God, help me, or I\nshall die!\"\nOne night he had a strange dream. He thought he saw his good old\nfather standing before him calling to him. He spread out his arms and\ncried aloud, \"Here I am, here I am!\" He tried to get up, but he was\nso weak that he fell back fainting.\nHe lay there a long time, but finally came to. He felt a burning\nthirst, but no one reached him a drop of water. He prepared to die.\nHe folded his hands and prayed to God that he would be merciful to\nhim. He prayed forgiveness from his parents. Once more he raised his\nhead and gazed wildly around, then he sank back and knew no more.\nWhen he again awoke he felt better. His hot fever had gone. He\nattempted to walk. He had just enough strength to crawl to the table\nand fetch a shell of water. When he tried to walk he had to sit down\nat every two or three steps.\nFrom this he recovered gradually, growing better and better, and he\nthanked God inwardly for his recovery. His sickness had continued from\nJune 18 to July 3.\nXXIV\nROBINSON'S BOWER\nRobinson's sickness set him thinking about his home. He had been so\nafraid of animals when he came to the island that he thought of\nnothing but protection from them. He had been now a year on the island\nand had seen nothing more dangerous than a goat. The fear of animals\nhad practically faded away. In thinking over his sickness he made up\nhis mind that it was caused by sleeping in his cave where the sun\nnever shone. The ventilation seemed good, but the walls were damp,\nespecially in the rainy season. Then the water would trickle down\nthrough the cleft in spite of all he could do.\nHe resolved to build, if possible, a little cottage, or, as he called\nit, a bower, in the yard in front of his shelter. The hedge of\nthistles was growing and formed a fence that an animal could not get\nthrough. His screen of willows on the outside of this would soon hide\nhim from view from the sea. He had the wall of rock and the hill\nbehind him.\nHe planned out his way of building it very carefully. \"It must be\ndone,\" he said (Robinson formed the habit of talking to himself, so\nthat he would not forget how to talk), \"without hammer, nails, or\nsaw.\"\nHe first sought out four posts, as large as he could well handle.\nThere were always broken trees and branches in the forest. If he\nsearched long enough he could find posts just suited to his need. He\nwanted four of the same thickness and height and with a fork at the\nend. After long searching he found what he wanted. He was careful to\nget those that he could drag to his shelter.\nHe placed these in the ground, forming the corners of a square about\nten feet long. In the forks he placed poles running around about eight\nfeet from the ground. At about every three feet he fastened others,\nrunning in the same way, with heavy cords made of fibre. He found his\ngreatest trouble with the roof. It must be sloped to shed rain. He\nhad to find two more forked posts, three or four feet longer than the\nothers. These he placed opposite each other in the centers of two\nsides. Upon these he placed a ridge pole. He then laid other poles\nlengthwise from ridge pole to the edge of the frames.\nHis frame was now done. His plan was now to cover this frame with\nstraw or grasses tied in bundles. He had seen the barns in the country\nthatched in this way by the Dutch farmers in New York State. He\ngathered the straw of the wild rice. It was long, straight and tough.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON'S BOWER]\nIt was easily tied into flat bundles. These he bound securely on to\nthe frame work with cords. He began at the bottom so that the ends\nof the row would lap over the tops of the last one put on.\nIn this way he built a very comfortable and rainproof bower. It was\neasy to make a bed of poles covered with straw. A table and bench were\nadded and shelves of poles.\nRobinson felt great joy over this new home. \"I will not now be sick\nany more,\" he said. \"In case of danger I can get into my cave. But\nat all other times I will live in my bower.\" He had use still for his\ncave. He could use it to store some things in. But he had to be\ncareful about the dampness in wet weather.\nRobinson was getting to feel at home. He was no longer so sad. He did\nnot grieve so much for home. He looked upon his home with great\ndelight It was secure. He had his herd of goats always in his sight.\nAt evening he would do his milking. He found he could keep the milk\nfor some time in the cave. He was tempted to try making some butter\nfrom the good, rich cream. \"But,\" said Robinson, \"I have neither\nvessels to make it in nor bread to eat it on.\"\nHe planned many things to do. \"I will make a hammock some day for my\nbower and some vessels to use in my work,\" he thought.\nXXV\nROBINSON AGAIN EXPLORES HIS ISLAND\nWhen Robinson recovered his strength he had a strong desire to see\nmore of the island. At first he had been in constant fear of wild\nanimals, but now he thought he would like to see all there was to see\nin the island. On the 15th of July he started out. First he went to\na brook which ran into the sea near his cave. Its water was clear and\npure; along its shore lay beautiful meadows. As he came to the upper\ncourse of the brook the meadow gave way to forest. On the border of\nthe forest he found melons and grapes.\nThe night came on and he slept again in a tree. The next morning he\nwent farther and came to a clear rivulet. Here the region was\nwonderfully beautiful. The flowers bloomed as in a garden, and near\nthe flowers stood splendid apple and orange trees. He took as much\nof the fruit as he could carry and went on his way. This journey\ncontinued three days. The grapes which he had carried he dried in the\nsun and made raisins.\nThe 10th of September came, one year had passed on the island. He was\nmany hundred miles from home, alone on an island. With tears he cried\nout, \"Ah! what are my dear parents saying? They have no doubt long\ngiven me up as dead. If I could only send them a message to comfort\nthem and let them know how much I love them!\"\nThe day was celebrated as a holiday. He thanked God that He had given\nhim so many good things. Often he had lived the whole day in care and\nanxiety. Now he tried to be more cheerful and to meet the troubles\nof each day with courage.\nBut Robinson was not yet satisfied. He longed to know more of the\nisland and prepared himself for a greater journey. He slung his\nhunting pouch over his shoulder, filled it full of food, took his bow\nand arrows, stuck his stone hatchet in his belt and started on his\nway. He traveled over meadows, through beautiful forests in which were\nhundreds of birds. He was delighted as they sang and fluttered about.\nThe journey was beautiful and pleasant to Robinson. In the forests\nhe often saw small wild creatures, but he shot nothing. After the first\nnight he slept under a tree in the soft grass, for he had now no fear\nof wild animals.\nAlong the shore he saw great groves of palms with their large nuts.\nHe saw, too, many goats in all parts of the island.\nNow he was ready to take the shortest way home. He had not gone far\nbefore he came into a dark forest. He became confused and wandered\nabout for several days. On the fourth day he came to a little pile\nof stones, which he had made to mark the way as he was going out. From\nthis place the way was easy to find. On this trip he was gone already\ntwo weeks.\nXXVI\nROBINSON AND HIS BIRDS\nOf all the things he saw on his journey Robinson was most delighted\nwith the birds. They were of the most beautiful colors. The forest\nwas full of them. They gleamed like jewels in the deep masses of foliage.\nIn the morning their singing filled the air with sound.\nRobinson had never taken much notice of the birds at home. But now\nevery living thing attracted him. He loved to see them happy. He would\nwatch often by the hour and learn the habits of nesting and getting\nfood of nearly every bird on the island.\nRobinson did not know the names of many of the birds he saw on the\nisland. He had to make names for them. The strangest thing he saw on\nhis journey was the nest of what he called the yellow-tail. This bird\nlives in colonies and makes its nest at the ends of the long leaves\nof the mountain palm. When he first saw these queer looking sacks hanging\nfrom the leaves he was amazed. He had never seen so strange a sight.\nFrom the end of each great leaf hung a long, closely woven nest.\nRobinson could not make out at first what they were. Soon, however,\nhe saw the birds come out of the mouths of the nests. Here, one hundred\nfeet from the ground, they hung their nests. But they were perfectly\nsafe.\nHe had not gone far from the tree in which the yellow tails had their\nnests when he was suddenly startled by a voice crying, \"Who, who are\nyou?\" Robinson was greatly frightened and hid beneath the drooping\nbranches of a cedar tree. He feared every moment that the owner of\nthe voice would make his appearance. But it kept at a distance. Every\nfew minutes from the depths of the forest would come the doleful cry,\n\"Who, who are you?\" Robinson did not dare to stir from his hiding\nplace. He remained there over night. After the night came on he heard\nthe strange voice no more.\nThe next day he renewed his journey. He saw many birds that were\nwholly strange to him. There was a kind of wild pigeon that built its\nhome in a hole in the rock. It was a most beautiful bird with long,\nslender, graceful feathers in its tail. He saw the frigate bird\nsoaring high above the island. The number and beauty of the\nhumming-birds amazed Robinson. They were of all colors. One had a bill\nin the shape of a sickle. The most brilliant of them all was the\nruby-crested hummingbird.\nNear noon, while Robinson was shielding himself from the scorching\nheat of the sun in a deep, shaded glen, he was startled again by the\nstrange voice crying, \"Who, who, who are you?\" He lay quite still,\ndetermined if possible to allow the voice to come, if it would, within\nsight. He heard it slowly coming up the glen. Each time it repeated\nthe cry it sounded nearer. At last he saw spying at him through the\nboughs of the tree under which he was lying a large bird with soft,\nsilky feathers of green and chestnut. \"Who, who, who are you?\" said\nthe bird. Robinson could not help but laugh. He had been frightened\nat the cry of a bird.\nBut the bird that interested Robinson most was the parrot. There were\nseveral kinds of them. They flew among the trees with great noise and\nclatter and shrieking. Robinson determined if possible to secure one\nfor a pet. \"I can teach it to talk,\" he said, \"and I will have\nsomething to talk to.\"' As soon as he returned home he set about\ncatching one. He noticed that a number were in the habit of visiting\nan old tree near the shelter every morning. He planned to snare one\nand tried several mornings, but he could not get one into the snare.\nHe tried to hit one with his bow and arrow. He at last succeeded in\nhitting one and stunning it so that it fell to the ground. He ran\nrapidly to pick it up, but before he could get to where it lay in the\nbushes it had disappeared.\nAfter thinking the matter over he concluded that it would be much\nbetter to get a pair of young birds and raise them. The old ones would\nbe hard to tame and difficult to teach. It was easy enough to find\na nest in a hollow tree. He secured from the nest two birds just ready\nto fly. He made a cage for them out of willow rods. He placed the cage\nat the entrance of his cave and studied how he would feed them. Much\nto his surprise the parent birds discovered their young ones and\nbrought them food and fed them through the open work of the cage.\nWhen the birds were grown they rapidly learned to talk. Robinson took\ngreat delight in teaching them. He taught them to call his name and\nwhen he came near they would call out, \"Poor old Robinson Crusoe!\"\nThese birds remained for many years with Robinson. In fact, he was\nnever afterward without a parrot. They helped him to pass away very\npleasantly many hours that without them would have been sad.\nAnother bird that Robinson loved was the little house wren. This bird\nwas exceedingly tame and friendly. It was a very sweet and strong\nsinger. It loved to make its nest in or near his shelter. There it\nwould build and rear its young, within reach of his hands, while its\nthroat was always bursting with melody.\nThe mocking bird, too, always nested near and awakened him in the\nmorning with its wonderful song.\nRobinson became a great friend and favorite of the bird inhabitants\nof the island. They seemed to know him and showed no fear when near\nhim. This pleased him very much.\nXXVII\nROBINSON GETS FIRE\nRobinson was now pretty comfortable. He had his bower with its chair\nand table. He had his cave in case of danger. He had his cellar in\nwhich to keep his meat. He would sit in the shade near the door of\nhis bower and think of the many things he should be thankful for. But\nthere was one hardship that Robinson could not get used to and that\nwas the eating of raw food. \"How fine it would be if only I could\nparch a few grains of corn in the fire! I could like live a prince,\"\nthought he, \"if I had fire. I would grind some of my corn into flour\nand make some corn bread or cakes and cook rice.\" He did so long for\nroasted meat and determined again to make the attempt to get fire.\nRobinson was fast losing his idle, thoughtless ways of doing things.\nHe had become a thoughtful and diligent man in the short time that\nhe had been on the island. Trouble and hardship had made a man of him.\n\"I must carefully think over the whole matter of getting fire,\" he\nsaid. He had failed twice and was now resolved to succeed. \"If the\nlightning would only strike a tree,\" he thought, \"and set it on fire.\"\nBut he could not wait for such a thing to happen, and how could he\nkeep it when once thus obtained? It was clear he must have some way\nof producing fire when he wanted it, just as they did at home? He thought\nover the ways he had tried and the one most likely to be successful.\nHe resolved to make a further trial of the method by twirling a stick\nin his hands. He selected new wood that was hard and dry. He carefully\nsharpened a stick about eighteen inches long and, standing it upright\nin a hollow in the block of wood, began to roll it between his hands.\nBy the time Robinson's hands were well hardened, it seemed that he\nwas going to succeed at last. But he lacked the skill to be obtained\nonly by long practice.\n\"If I could only make it go faster,\" he said. \"There must be some way\nof doing this. I believe I can do it. I used to make my top spin round\nwith a cord; I wonder if I can use the cord here.\" The only cord he\nhad was attached to his bow. He was going to take it off when a\nthought struck him. He loosened the string a bit and twisted it once\nabout his spindle. Then he drew the bow back and forth. The spindle\nwas turned at a great rate. He saw he must hold one end with his left\nhand while the other rested in the hollow in the block. With his\nright, he drew the bow back and forth. How eagerly he worked! He had\ntwirled but a few minutes when the dust in the hollow burst into fire\nfrom the heat produced by the rapidly twirling spindle.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON'S TOOLS FOR MAKING FIRE]\nRobinson was too overjoyed to make any use of it. He danced and\ncapered about like one gone mad until the fire had gone out. But that\nwas of no matter now, since he could get fire when he wanted it.\nHe hastened to make him a rude fireplace and oven of stones. He\nhollowed out a place in the ground and lined and covered it with large\nflat stones. On one side he built up a chimney to draw up the smoke\nand make the fire burn brightly. He brought wood and some dry fungus\nor mushroom. This he powdered and soon had fire caught in it. He\nkindled in this way the wood in his stove and soon had a hot fire.\nThe first thing he did in the way of cooking was to roast some rabbit\nmeat on a spit or forked stick held in his hand over the fire. Nothing\nRobinson had ever eaten was to be compared to this.\n\"I can do many things now,\" thought Robinson. \"My work will not be\nnearly so hard. My fire will be my servant and help me make my tools\nas well as cook my food. I can now cook my corn and rice.\"\nXXVIII\nROBINSON MAKES BASKETS\nRobinson still continued anxious about his food supply when he could\nno longer gather it fresh from the fields and forest. Corn had again\nbecome ripe. He had found in a wet, marshy place some wild rice-plants\nloaded with ripened grain. As he now had fire he only had to have some\nway of storing up grains and he would not lack for food. He knew that\ngrain stored away must be kept dry and that he must especially provide\nagainst dampness in his cave or in his bower.\nIf he only had some baskets. These would be just the thing. But how\nwas he to get them? Robinson had never given a thought to either\nmaterial or the method of making them. He, however, was gradually\nacquiring skill and confidence in himself. So far he had managed to\nmeet all his wants. He had invented tools and made his own clothes\nand shelter, and, \"Now,\" said he to himself, \"I will solve the new\nproblem. I must first study the materials that I have at hand.\" He\nremembered the splint market baskets in which his father took\nvegetables home from the store. He recalled how the thin splints were\nwoven.\n\"They went over and under,\" he said. \"That is simple enough if I had\nthe splints.\" He set himself diligently to work to find a plant whose\nbark or split branches could be used for splints. He tried to peel\noff the rough outer bark of several trees in order to examine the inner\nlayers of soft fibrous material. He found several trees that gave\npromise of furnishing abundance of long, thin strips, but the labor\nof removing the bark with his rude imperfect tools was so great that\nhe resolved that he would have to find some other kind of material.\n\"Why need the strips be flat?\" he thought. \"I believe I could weave\nthem in the same way if I used the long, thin, tough willow rods I\nsaw growing by the brookside, when I was returning from my journey.\"\nHe found on trial that the weaving went very well, but that he must\nhave strong, thick rods or ribs running up and down to give strength\nand form to his basket. He worked hard, but it was slow work. It was\nthree days before his first basket was done. He made many mistakes\nand was obliged many times to undo what he had accomplished in order\nto correct some error. And at last when he had woven the basket as\nlarge as he thought was suitable for his purpose, he did not know how\nto stop or finish the top so as to keep the basket from unraveling.\nAt last he hit upon the plan of fastening two stout rods, one outside,\nthe other inside, the basket. These he sewed firmly, over and over,\nto the basket with a kind of fibre from a plant he had discovered that\nlooked almost to be what he had heard called the century plant in the\nparks at home.\nOn attempting his next basket, he thought long how he might improve\nand save time. He must hasten, or the now almost daily rains would\ndestroy his ripened wild corn and rice.\n\"If I could use coils of that long grass I saw growing in the marsh\nbeside the rice,\" he thought, \"I could make twice the progress.\" He\ngathered an armful, twisted it into cables about an inch thick and\nwove it into his frame of upright rods instead of the horizontal layer\nof willow canes. This answered his purpose just as well and rendered\nthe making of large baskets the work of a few hours. He found,\nhowever, that the willow rods or osiers were not pliant enough to work\nwell in fastening his coils of grass cables together. He tried several\nthings and at last succeeded best when he used the long thread-like\nfibre of the century-like plant. He had, however, to make a stout\nframework of rods. He would first coil his grass rope into this frame\nand then sew it together with twine or thread made from this fibre.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON'S BASKETS]\nHe afterwards tried making smaller and finer baskets out of the fibre\nthat he had discovered, which could be easily had from the\nthick-leaved plant he thought he had seen at home. He first used long,\ntough, fine roots he had seen when digging up the tree at the mouth\nof his cave. Afterwards he discovered some tall, tough reeds growing\nnear by. He laid in a supply of these. He found that when he wanted\nto use them, a good soaking in water made them as pliable and tough\nas when first cut.\nThe making of the baskets and storing up grains made it possible for\nRobinson to become a farmer and thus make himself independent. This\nthought was a great relief to him.\nXXIX\nROBINSON BECOMES A FARMER\nRobinson had now been on the island long enough to know how the\nseasons changed. He found that there were two kinds of weather there,\nwet weather and dry weather. There were two wet seasons in each year\nand two dry ones. During the wet seasons, which lasted nearly three\nmonths, Robinson had to remain pretty closely at home, and could not\ngather grain, for the plants were then starting from the seeds. It\nripened in the dry seasons. Robinson soon found that he must have a\nstore of corn and wild rice for food during the rainy seasons. He,\nhowever, knew nothing about planting and harvesting, nor preparing\nthe ground for seed.\nHe had it all to learn with no teacher or books to instruct him. He\nfound a little space near his dwelling free from trees and thought\nhe would plant some corn seed here. He did not know the proper time\nfor planting. He thought because it was warm, seed would grow at any\ntime. It happened his first seed was put in at the beginning of the\ndry season. He watched and waited to rejoice his eyes with the bright\ngreen of sprouting corn, but the seed did not grow. There was no rain\nand the sun's heat parched the land till it was dry and hard on the\nupland where his corn was planted.\n\"Very well,\" thought Robinson, \"I will plant it at the beginning of\nthe wet season, either in March or September.\" He did so; the seed\nquickly sprouted up. But the weeds, shrubs, and vines sprouted as\nquickly, and before Robinson was aware, his corn was overgrown and\nchoked out by a rank growth of weeds and vines.\n\"I see,\" said Robinson, \"that I must thoroughly prepare the soil\nbefore planting my seed.\" But he had no spade and no other tool that\nwould stand the strain of digging among tough matted roots. But he\nmust succeed. He put a new handle in the stone hoe or pick he had\nalready made. His mussel shell spade was worn out. He must set himself\nto fashion out another. He decided to make one from the tough heavy\nwood of a tree that grew plentifully in the forest.\nHe was lucky enough to find a tree of this kind whose bole had been\nsplit lengthwise by the falling of an old rotten tree near it. With\nhis stone tools and the help of fire he managed after several days'\nwork to make a wide sharpened tool out of one of the large pieces\nsplit off. It was a little over three feet long. He had trimmed one\nend small and cut notches in the sides about one foot from the flat\nend. He could place his foot in the notch and thrust his wooden spade\ninto the earth. With his rude tool he dug up and turned the soil of\na small space of ground several times to kill the vines and weeds.\nHis corn quickly sprouted after this attempt and outstripped the weeds\nand vines which Robinson constantly had to hold in check by pulling\nand hoeing. He was rejoiced at his growing crop and went each morning\nto feast his eyes on the rapidly expanding leaves and ears.\nOne morning as he came in sight of the little clearing he thought he\nsaw something disappearing in the low brush on the other side as he\napproached. Alas, his labor had been in vain! A herd of wild goats\nhad found out the place and had utterly destroyed his crop. Robinson\nsat down nearby and surveyed the ruin of his little field. \"It is plain,\"\nthought he, \"I will have to fence in the field or I will never be able\nto harvest my crop. I cannot watch it all the time.\"\nHe had already learned from his experience in making the fence around\nthe goat pasture that the branches of many kinds of shrubs and trees,\nwhen broken off and thrust into the ground, will send out roots and\nleaves and at length if planted close together in a line, will form\na thick hedge which no kind of beast can get through or over. He found\nout some willow trees whose branches broke easily, and soon had enough\nto thrust into the ground about six inches apart around the entire\nedge of his little field, which contained about one eighth of an acre.\nAfter this hedge had grown so as to be a fair protection to his crop\nhe tried planting again at the proper season. He spaded up the ground\nand pulled out the matted roots as best he could and with great pains\nand care planted his corn in straight even rows. To make them straight\nand each hill of corn the same distance from its neighbors, he first\nmarked off the ground in squares whose sides were about three and one\nhalf feet long.\n\"Now,\" thought he, \"I will reap the reward of my labor.\" The corn grew\nrapidly, and toward the end of the first dry season was filling out\nand ripening its ears. But to Robinson's dismay a new danger\nthreatened his crop against which he could not fence. He was in\ndespair. The birds were fast eating and destroying his partially\nripened corn. He could not husk it yet. It was not ripe enough. He\nthought how easy it would be to protect his field if he had a gun.\nBut he had learned that it is useless to give time to idle dreaming.\nHe must do something and that quick.\n\"If I could catch some of these rascals,\" he thought, \"I would hang\nthem up on poles, dead, as a warning to the rest.\" It seemed almost\na hopeless task, but he went about it. It was in vain he tried to kill\nsome of them by throwing rocks and sticks. He could not get near\nenough to them. At length he laid snares and succeeded in snaring\nthree birds. He had learned to weave a pliable, strong thong out of\ncocoa and other fibre that he was now acquainted with. The birds thus\ncaught he fastened on broken branches of trees which he stuck into\nthe earth in different parts of his field. The birds heeded the warning\nand visited his corn field no more that season.\nAt the end of the season he gathered or husked his corn and after it\nwas thoroughly dry he shelled it from the cob with his hands. He used\nhis baskets in which to carry his husked ears from the field to his\ncave and in which to store it when shelled. He found that the ears\nwere larger and better filled and plumper than when the plants grew\nwild. He selected the largest and best filled ears for his seed the\nnext time. In this way his new crop of corn was always better in kind\nand yielded more than the old one.\nAt first he grew two crops a year, but by experimenting he found out\nabout how much he needed for his own use and planted once a year\nenough to give him a liberal supply.\nHe observed that the wild rice grew in swampy lands, so that he did\nnot make the mistake of trying to raise it upon the upland where the\ncorn grew best. He saw at once that the planting of rice on low,\nmarshy or wet land was beyond his present strength and tools. \"Some\ntime in the future,\" he thought, \"I may try it.\"\nRobinson also found wild grapes in abundance. These he dried by\nhanging them on the branches of trees. He thus had a store of raisins\nfor each rainy season.\nXXX\nROBINSON AS POTTER\nRobinson was now anxious to cook his food, to boil his rice and\nvegetables and bake bread, but he could do nothing without cooking\nvessels. He had tried to use cocoanut shells, but these were too small\nand there was no way to keep them from falling over and spilling the\ncontents. He determined to try to make some clay vessels. He knew\nwhere he could get a kind of clay that had the appearance of making\ngood ware. It was fine grained and without lumps or pebbles. He was\nmuch perplexed to mould the clay into right shapes. He tried taking\na lump and shaping it into a vessel with his hands. He tried many times,\nbut each time the clay broke and he was forced to try some other way.\nHe recalled how he had made his basket out of strands of twisted grass\nand wondered whether he could not make his pots in the same way.\nHe spun the clay out into a long rope and began to coil it around a\nsmall basket forming the layers together with his hands. This was\neasy, but he did not see clearly how he was going to get the basket\nout from the inside of the pot. He found he could copy in this way\nany form he wished, but he finally hit upon the plan of making a form\nof wicker work and coiling the clay rope inside it, for he saw that\nwhether he succeeded or not in getting the clay free from the basket\nhe could use the pot, and besides if the pot would stand the fire the\nbasket would burn off. To dry the pots Robinson stood them in the sun\na few days. When they were dry he tried to cook some soup in one of\nthem. He filled it with water and put it on his stove or oven, but\nhow sadly had he deceived himself. In a short time the water soaked\ninto the clay and soon the pot had fallen to pieces.\n\"How foolish I am!\" said Robinson to himself; \"the pots have to be\nfired before they can be used.\" He set about this at once. He found\ntwo stones of equal size, placed them near each other and laid a third\nacross these. He then placed three large pots upon them and made a\nhot fire under them. No sooner had the flame shot up than one of the\npots cracked in two. \"I probably made the fire too hot at first,\" thought\nRobinson.\nHe drew out some of the coals and wood, but afterwards gradually\nincreased the fire again. He could not, however, get the pots hot\nenough to turn red He brought the dryest and hardest wood, but could\nnot succeed in getting them hot enough to turn red. At length he was\ntired out and was compelled to give it up. When the pots were cool\nhe tried to boil water in one. It was no better than the sun dried\none. He saw that he must provide some way to get the pots much hotter\nthan he could in the open air He resolved to make an oven of stones\nlarge enough to take in the wood as well as the pots. It must be above\nground so that there might be plenty of draught for the fire. With\ngreat labor, he pried up and carried together flat stones enough to\nmake an oven about four feet high with a chimney at one side. He had\nput in the center a stone table on which he could place three quite\nlarge pots. He left an opening in one side that could be partially\nclosed by a large, flat stone.\nHe worked eagerly and at the end of the second day he was ready to\nfire his oven. He first carried together a good quantity of dry wood,\nthen he put in his pots and laid the wood around them. In a short time\nhe had a very hot fire. He kept this up all day and until late at\nnight.\nThe next morning he went to his oven and found his pots were a\nbeautiful red. He drew out the fire and allowed them to cool slowly.\nThen he filled one with water and set it over the fire to heat it.\nBefore many minutes the water was boiling and Robinson had another\nreason to be thankful. He wept for joy. His patient labors had brought\ntheir rewards. No prince could feel as happy as Robinson now. He had\novercome all difficulties. Starting with nothing but his hands, he\nwas now able to supply all his wants. \"If I only had a companion now,\"\nhe thought, \"I would have nothing further to wish as long as I stay\non the island.\"\n[Illustration: SOME OF ROBINSON'S DISHES]\nXXXI\nROBINSON AS BAKER\nNow that Robinson had fire, he determined to try to make bread. He\nhad seen the servants at home make bread many times, but he had not\nobserved closely and knew next to nothing about the way bread is made.\nHe knew he must in some way grind the corn into flour, but how could\nhe do this? He had no mill nor any tools with which to crush the corn.\nHe first tried to find a stone large and hard enough out of which he\nmight hollow a vessel or kind of mortar. He thought he could put the\ncorn into this mortar and grind it by means of another stone or\npestle. It was with great difficulty that he could get a stone of\nsuitable size and form. After several days' trial he at last got one\ncut out from some layers of rock near the shore. He made a hollow\nplace in it. Then he took a smaller oblong shaped rock for his pestle.\nHe took great pride in these new tools. \"I shall soon be a\nstone-cutter,\" he said to himself, \"as well as a farmer and potter.\"\nBut his stone mortar was a failure. The rock was too soft. Every time\nhe thrust the pestle down, it loosened small pieces of the stone\nvessel. These mixed with the ground corn or flour and made it unfit\nto eat. There was no way to separate the sand from the crushed grain.\nHe resolved then to try to make a mortar and pestle of hard wood. Now\nthat he had fire, he could do this, though it cost him many a hard\nday's work. He found not far away a log of very hard wood. By building\na fire at the right distance from one end he was able to separate a\npiece of the log. He rolled this to his cave and made a good-sized\nhollow in it by burning. This pestle was not so difficult to make.\nHe took a limb or branch of an ironwood tree, burned it in two at the\nplace to make it the right length. By burning also he rounded one end\nand then he was ready for the grinding. After cleaning his mortar and\npestle carefully he placed some corn in the hollow and soon had some\nfine yellow meal or flour without any grit or sand in it.\nHis next care was to separate the coarse outer husk or covering of\nthe kernel from the finer parts that make the meal. He had no sieve.\nHis net was too coarse. It let both bran and meal go through. \"I must\nmake a net or cloth fine enough to sift or bolt my flour,\" said he.\nSuch was now his skill in spinning and weaving that this was not hard\nto do. He had soon woven in his loom a piece of fine netting which\nallowed the meal to shake through, but held back the coarse bran or\nouter husk of the kernel. Out of the dry corn that he had stored up\nhe now made quite a quantity of flour. This he kept tightly covered\nin a large earthen pot or jar that he had made for this purpose. \"I\nmust keep all my food clean and protect it from the ants and other\ninsects as well as dust and damp,\" he thought.\nHis preparations were now nearly made. He had already his stove of\nflat stones. On this he could set his pots to boil water, cook rice,\nand meat, but it would not do for baking a loaf of bread of any\nthickness. He must have an oven or enclosed place into which he could\nput the loaf to bake it. By the use of flat stones he soon rebuilt\nhis stove so as to have an oven that did fine service. Now it was mixing\nthe dough that claimed his attention. He had of course no yeast to\nmake raised or light bread. He poured goats' milk on the flour and\nkneaded it into a thick dough. He did not forget to add salt. He\nplaced his loaf in a shallow earthen pan he had made for this purpose.\nAfter the fire had heated the stones of his oven through, he put in\nhis loaf and soon was enjoying a meal of corn bread and meat stew.\nRobinson soon tried to make cocoa from the beans of the cocoa palm\nthat grew in the island. This with good rich goats' milk in it he\nthought the best drink in the world. He often thought of making sugar\nfrom the sugar cane plant he had discovered in the island. But the\nlabor of squeezing out the juice was too great. He could think of no\nway to do this without the help of horses or oxen.\nXXXII\nROBINSON AS FISHERMAN\nRobinson was now eager to use his fire and cooking vessels. He had\nnoticed with hungry eyes fine large fish in the creek near his cave.\nBut he had never taken the trouble to catch any. \"What is the use?\"\nhe thought. \"I cannot eat them raw.\" It was different now and he began\nto devise ways of making a catch. How he longed for a fish-hook, such\nas he had so often used when loitering along the Hudson River! \"But\na fish-hook is not to be thought of,\" he said to himself, \"unless I\ncan make one of bone.\" He went down to the brook and searched long\nfor a fish-bone that he might make use of for this purpose. He found\nnothing.\n\"I must try something else,\" he thought. He remembered the nets he\nused to see along the Hudson and wondered if he could not make a small\none to pull through the water and thus catch the fish.\nHe had now a better source of fibre for weaving and for spinning into\nlines and ropes. He had discovered this when he was trying to find\na good strong thread or yarn with which to bind the coils of his\ngrass-made baskets together. He obtained fibre in great abundance from\nthe century-like plant. He found if he broke off the long leaves of\nthis plant and allowed them to decay there remained a long, tough\nfibrous substance out of which strong cords could be twisted or yarn\nmade for weaving a coarse cloth or netting.\nOut of this he spun yarn thread to make a net about three or four feet\nby two feet. He fastened cords to four corners of this, tied them to\na long pole, and was now prepared to test his plan for catching fish.\nThe brook he found was too shallow for him to catch fish in this way.\nAt the sight of him and his net, they scurried away to deep water.\nNeither could he succeed in the shallow water along the shore. \"I must\nwade out as far as I can,\" he said to himself, \"and draw the net\nthrough the water.\"\nAs he did this he was surprised at the many forms of sea life, new\nto him, that he saw. He, however, was careful and watchful. He walked\nalong near the shore to a point where some, rocks showed above the\nsurface. As he looked ahead he saw the single eye of a giant\ncuttle-fish glaring at him from among the rocks. It was thrusting out\nits long arms towards him. He drew back quickly, but as he did so he\nwas terrified to hear the snap of some huge creature's jaws near him.\nA great shark had seen him and had thrown himself on his back to seize\nhim in his rows of sharp teeth, but was prevented reaching him by the\nshallowness of the water.\nRobinson was too much terrified to continue longer his attempt at\nfishing. He went back to his cave with only a few small ones, not\nworth the trouble of dressing for his dinner.\nThe next day undismayed he tried again. He succeeded in drawing in\nsome very beautiful large fish. Their sides shone as burnished gold\nand silver. \"Now,\" he thought, \"I will have a feast.\" He carried them\nhome, carefully cleaned and dressed them, seasoned them with his salt,\nand broiled them over his fire. Imagine his disappointment when they\nproved unfit to eat. Their flesh was coarse and tough and ill-tasting.\nHe saw that the catching of fish for his table was a more difficult\nthing than he thought it. He must not only catch fish, but catch ones\nthat could be eaten. He could only tell the good from the bad by\ntrying them.\nHe was more fortunate in his next venture. He was going along the\nshore at the mouth of the creek which ran near his cave when he\nnoticed a group of fishes, dark bluish above with silvery sides. The\nlargest of them were about two feet long. They were feeding on the\nbottom in the brackish water at the mouth of the creek, which at its\nmouth opened out into quite a little bay or inlet. They would take\nup a mouthful of earth from the bottom and let it wash through their\nmouths, keeping all the bits of food that happened to be in it. When\none fish got a good place to feed the others swam around it and tried\nto get some of the food.\nRobinson watched his chance and slipped his net under a group, while\neach one was busy trying to get the best mouthful of mud. He drew up\nthree quite large fish, but just as he was about to lift them from\nthe water, one of the cords which bound the net to the poles broke\nand he saw his catch fall back into the creek and dart away in the\ndeepest water. But Robinson was not to be discouraged. He soon mended\nhis net and at last was successful. In a short time he drew out another\ncatch of two fish.\nThese proved excellent food and were so abundant as to furnish\nRobinson with all the fish he wanted as long as he stayed on the\nisland.\nXXXIII\nROBINSON BUILDS A BOAT\nRobinson had wished for a boat many times. He wished to explore the\nshore of his island. He wanted to go clear around it so that he might\nsee it on every side. But he knew the work of making a boat would be\ngreat, if not wholly impossible.\nThe shaping of boards to build a boat with his rude tools was not to\nbe thought of. He knew how the Indians made boats out of bark of\ntrees. But he saw that for his purpose so light a boat would not do.\nHe finally remembered a second Indian way of making a boat by\nhollowing out a large log. The forest was full of the boles of trees\nthat had been blown down. But they were far away from the shore. At\nfirst he did not think of this very much. He had overcome so many\ndifficulties that he thought, \"Never mind, I will get my boat to\nwater, no matter where I make it, in some way.\" So he selected a tree\ntrunk some distance from the bank of the little creek near his cave\nand began work.\nHe had first to burn out his log the proper length and hack it into\nboat shape with his stone tools. This was very slow and tedious work.\nHe had to handle the fire with great care for there was always the\ndanger of spoiling the shape of the slowly forming boat. Both ends\nmust be sharpened, but one more than the other to form the prow or\nforward going end. After he had shaped his boat, he began hollowing\nit out. This he did also by burning for the most part. He used the\nbranches of pitch bearing trees for this purpose. But it was so slow.\nHe worked at his boat all the time he could spare from his regular\nduties in attending to his goats, his garden and his cave. He was\nalways making his cave larger. Every time he made a piece of furniture\nor stored away grain he must make more room in his cave by digging\naway the earth and carrying it out. He had made a large strong wicker\nbasket for this purpose.\nHe had had a vague idea that when he got his boat done he would dig\na trench back from the bank of the creek and thus float his boat. But\nhe had not thought it out clearly. \"Or anyway,\" he thought, \"I can\nin some way manage to roll it to the water.\" He must now actually plan\nto put some of these ideas into effect. He first went over the ground\nand found that to dig a trench from the water to the boat, so that\nthe water would come to the boat, he would have to dig it twenty feet\ndeep. \"I can never do this,\" he said, \"with my poor tools.\"\nHe next tried his rolling plan. But he had been so anxious to have\na large boat that he had overlooked everything else. Try as hard as\nhe might he could not stir his boat from the spot. After many trials\nwith the longest levers he could handle, the boat still stuck fast.\nIt would not budge an inch. He at last gave it up. \"It will lie here,\"\nhe thought, \"to remind me how foolish it is to attempt to do anything\nwithout first having thought it out carefully.\"\nThere was nothing to do but to choose another tree trunk. This time\nhe selected a much smaller one, and one that lay at the top of the\nlittle slope or incline from the bank of the creek. After another weary\nsix months of work he had his second boat ready for launching. With\na good stout lever he gave it a start, when it rolled quickly down\ninto the water. Robinson again wept for joy. Of all his projects this\nhad cost him the most work and pains and at last to see his plans\nsuccessful filled him with delight.\nThe next problem was how to make it go. He had no certain knowledge\nhow far it was around the island, but he knew it was farther than he\nwanted to row or paddle his boat. Yet he knew from the way the wind\nblew that he could not always depend upon a sail to help him. He must\nbecome skillful in paddling his boat. A sail too would be very helpful\nat times. He imagined how pleasant it would be sitting in the boat\nsailing along with a gentle wind. \"When the wind is favorable,\" he\nthought, \"I will only have to steer with my paddle.\"\nSo he set about weaving a sail of his sisal fibre. To do this he had\nto make a much larger loom than he had yet used. His sail must be at\nleast four feet square. He was now so skilled in weaving that this\nwas soon finished. He then made plenty of string, cord, and rope, put\nin a mast and was ready to sail. But he did not venture far away until\nhe had spent weeks and weeks in learning to steer, sail, and paddle\nhis boat.\nXXXIV\nROBINSON AS A SAILOR\nEver since Robinson had finished his boat he had been eager to make\na tour of his island. He had indeed made a journey by land. But the\ndeep forests and tangled vines made it very difficult to travel. His\njourneys had shown him but a small part of the land. He wished to know\nall about the land of which he, so far as he knew, was the sole\nmaster.\nHis first care was to fit up his boat with provisions. He made some\nlarge baskets in which to carry food and a large covered jar for\nwater. These he stored in the bow and the stern of his boat. He\nfastened his parasol on the stern for a shelter from the sun. He baked\nup a quantity of cakes or loaves of bread and packed them in his\nbaskets. He had woven these so carefully that they would almost hold\nwater.\nAt last all was ready. It was on the sixth day of November in the\nsixth year of his life on the island that Robinson hoisted his sail\nand set out upon this voyage of discovery. He had waited until the\nwind was gentle and blowing as far easterly as it does at that place.\nHe scudded along bravely, running with the land toward the East and\nNorth. All went well until he came to a low reef or ledge of rocks\nrunning far out to sea in a north-easterly direction.\n[Illustration]\nWhen Robinson observed this he went on shore and climbed to a high\npoint to see if it was safe to venture. He was afraid of hidden\ncurrents, or streams of water. These might carry him away from the\nshore and prevent him from getting around the point.\nHe did indeed observe that there was a current running out to sea past\nthe ledge, but he thought he could by careful paddling keep his boat\nfrom striking the rock. If he could once get beyond the ledge, the\nwind would help him double or get around the point. Indeed the danger\nwas that the wind would blow him on to the rocks.\nHe waited for two days for a gentle wind. At last without sail he\npushed his boat into the current and was born swiftly seaward. He\nfound the current much stronger than he thought it would be. It rushed\nhis frail boat on past the point of the rocks and out into the sea.\nTry as best he might he could not change its course. He was steadily\ngoing out to sea. He gave himself up for lost. He reproached himself\nfor being so rash and foolhardy as to trust his fortunes in so frail\na craft. How dear at this time seemed the island to him! The wind which\nhe had depended on to help him at this point had died down so that\nit was at the mercy of the current. He kept urging his boat to the\nwestward as much as possible, with all his strength, hoping that a\nbreeze would finally spring up.\nHe struggled on bravely until about noon. He had been carried out a\ngreat distance into the sea, but not so far as to lose sight of the\nland. All at once he felt the breeze freshening up. It caught his sail\nand soon his boat was cutting across the current. He did not have to\ngo far before he was free from it and making headway for the island,\nwhich he reached about four o'clock in the afternoon.\nHe found himself on the northern shore of the island, but before long\nthe shore ran away to the southward again. He ran briskly along the\nwest side until he found a little bay or cove. He determined to enter\nthis, draw up his boat on shore and make his way back home across the\nisland on foot. He was almost exhausted with his great labor and was\nworn out with anxiety.\nIn the centre of the arms of the cove he found a little creek entering\nthe sea. He paddled into this and found a good place to hide his boat.\nAs soon as Robinson was again on land he fell on his knees and with\ntears in his eyes thanked God for his deliverance. The island which\nhad seemed to him a prison now seemed the fairest and dearest place\nin the world.\nHaving made his boat safe he started back toward his shelter. But he\nwas too tired to go far. He soon came to a little grove of trees\nbeneath which he laid himself down and soon was fast asleep.\nYou can imagine with what surprise Robinson was awakened out of his\nsleep by a voice calling his name. \"Robinson, Robinson Crusoe,\" it\nsaid, \"poor Robinson Crusoe! Where are you Robinson, where have you\nbeen?\"\n[Illustration]\nHe was so fast asleep that he did not at first rouse up entirely and\nthought he was dreaming. But the voice kept calling, \"Robinson,\nRobinson, poor Robinson Crusoe!\" He was greatly frightened and started\nup. But no sooner were his eyes opened than he saw his parrot sitting\non a branch of a tree. He knew at once the source of the voice.\nPolly had missed her master and was also exploring the island. It was\na pleasant surprise. She immediately flew to him and lit on his\nshoulder. She showed in many ways how glad she was to see him and kept\nsaying, \"Poor Robinson, poor Robinson Crusoe!\"\nRobinson remained here over night and the next morning made his way\nback to the shelter. Up to this time Robinson had never seen any\ndangerous animals on the island. He had grown used to life there and\nwent about without fear of animals. But as he was returning across\na little opening, he saw a clump of palms in the centre of the opening,\nswaying about. He did not at first see what caused this, but soon\nthere was thrust out the head of a great serpent. Its jaws were open\nand its eyes were fixed on a poor terrified little rabbit. The rabbit\nseemed rooted to the spot. It could not stir a muscle and was soon\ncaught in the folds of the great snake.\nThis sight made Robinson greatly afraid. He wanted to rush to the\nrescue of the rabbit, but what could he do against such a foe? He\nresolved in the future to keep a more careful watch and always to\nsleep in his bower.\nRobinson had enough of exploring for some time. He was contented to\nremain at home. He made many things he needed. He had saved all the\nskins of the goats he had killed for meat and all that had died from\nany cause. These he made into rugs for his bed. He kept at his loom\ntoo, for he was anxious to weave enough of his coarse cloth to make\nhim a suit of clothes. He learned how to braid mats and rugs out of\nhis fibre, and finally replaced his awkward hat and parasol with\nothers braided very skillfully from the long grasses that grew so\nabundantly in the marshy places.\nAnother thing that Robinson was now able to make or weave out of his\nfibre was a hammock. He had slept all this time on a bed made of poles\nlaid lengthwise and thickly covered with the skins of goats and\nrabbits.\nNow he could have a comfortable place to sleep. He did not stop until\nhe had made two. One was for the bower and the other was for use\nout-of-doors. When his work was done in the evening or in the heat\nof the midday he would lie in it at full length under the shade of\nthe trees.\nXXXV\nA DISCOVERY\nRobinson could not forget his boat. It seemed a companion. \"It may\nbe the means of my escape from this place,\" he thought. He took frequent\njourneys across the island to where his little boat lay in the cove.\nHe would start out in the morning and walk over to the west side of\nthe island, take his boat and have a pleasant little sail. He always\nreturned home before dark, for to tell the truth, Robinson was a\ncoward. He was as timid as a hare. He was afraid of everything and\nspent many nights without sleep because of fear.\nIt was while on one of his visits to his boat that Robinson made a\ndiscovery that changed his whole life. It happened one day, about\nnoon, when he was going toward his boat that he, with great surprise,\nsaw the print of a man's naked foot on the shore in the sand. He stood\nlike one rooted to the ground. He could not move, so great was his\nsurprise and fear. He listened, looked around, but could hear and see\nnothing. He went up to a little hill to look further, but nothing was\nin sight. There was but the one footprint. There was no doubt about\nit, there it was, foot, toes, heel and every part of a foot. Robinson\ntried to think how it might have gotten there, but he could not. It\nwas a mystery. He was greatly afraid and started at once for his\nshelter. He ran like one pursued. At every little way he would look\nbehind to see if anyone was following him.\nNever a frightened rabbit ran to his hiding place with more terror\nthan Robinson ran to his cave. He did not sleep that night for fear\nand remained in his shelter for three days, never venturing out. But\nhis food was growing short and his goats needed to be milked. He\nfinally with a thousand wild fancies forced himself to go about his\nduties.\nBut he could not get the footprint out of his mind. He spent many sad\nand fearful days thinking about it. \"How could it have gotten there?\nWhose was it? Was the owner savage or not? What did he want on the\nisland?\" were some of the questions that haunted him.\n\"Perhaps,\" he thought one day, \"I just imagined I saw a footprint,\nor perhaps it was one of my own that I have made when going to sail\nmy boat.\" He took courage at this and began to go about the island\nagain. But he went in great fear, always looking behind him. He was\nalways ready to run at the first sign of danger. He had made himself\na large, strong, new bow and plenty of arrows. He carried these in\na quiver he had made from his cloth. He fashioned too a sharp-pointed,\nlance-like weapon which he hurled with a kind of sling. In his belt\nhe carried some new sharpened stone knives. He had found a better kind\nof rock out of which to make his knives. It resembled glass and could\nbe brought to a fine, keen edge.\nArmed thus, he began to have more confidence. He had a strong desire\nto see the footprint again and make up his mind about it. He wished\nto measure it. In this way he could tell certainly whether it was a\nchance print of his own foot or not. So, after a few days, he again\nventured across the island. Alas, on measuring the print it was much\nlarger than his own! There could no longer be any doubt that it\nbelonged to someone else.\nAgain great fear fell on poor Robinson. He shook with cold and fright.\nHe resolved to make himself more secure against attack.\nHe cut and carried willow stakes and set them in a thick hedge around\nin front of his shelter. This was outside the first and enclosed it.\nIn a season or two these had grown to such a height as to shut out\nall view of his home from sight to one coming to it from the front.\nHis flock of goats gave him many troubled thoughts. His goats were\nhis greatest treasure. From them he obtained without trouble his meat,\nhis milk and butter.\n\"What if they were discovered and killed or carried away?\" He resolved\nto divide his herd into three parts and secrete these in separate\nfenced pastures in different parts of the island. His herd of goats\nnow numbered twenty-five. He made thorough search about the island\nfor the most secluded and best hidden spots where he could fence in\na pasture.\nOne day as he was exploring on the west side of the island to find\nanother open space for a goat field, he thought he spied away out to\nsea a boat. He looked long and anxiously and yet he was not sure that\nit was a boat he saw. But how easy, thought Robinson, for the people\nof the mainland, which must be at no great distance to the westward,\nto come across to this side of the island in fair weather. He thought\ntoo, how fortunate he was to have been cast on the east side of the\nisland. For there he had his shelter in the very safest part.\nAs he was coming down from a hill where he had gone to get a better\nview of the sea he made another discovery. About him everywhere at\nthe foot of the hill were bones of all kinds. Near by too, were charcoal\nand ashes. There could be no mistake, the place was visited by human\nbeings. These were very likely savages. Everything showed that they\ncame for the purpose of feasting and not for plundering. It was very\nlikely that they neither sought anything on the island nor expected\nit.\n[Illustration: WATCHING FOR SAVAGES]\nThis thought greatly relieved Robinson. He returned home in a very\nthankful and composed state of mind. He had now been on the island\nalmost eighteen years and had not been discovered. Yet, no doubt, the\nisland had been visited many times by the savages since he had been\nthere.\nIn a short time his fear of discovery wore off and he began to live\njust as he did before his discovery.\nHe took, however, greater precaution against surprise. He always\ncarried his bow and arrows, his lance and knives. He was also very\ncareful about making a great smoke from his fire. He burned a great\nquantity of wood in a pit and made charcoal. With this material he\nhad a fine fire with a very little smoke. Every day also he went to\nthe top of the hill back of his shelter in order to discover if possible\nthe approach of savages.\nXXXVI\nTHE LANDING OF THE SAVAGES\nAnother year passed by, Robinson longed more and more to get away from\nthe island. Year after year he had hoped and watched in vain for a\npassing ship. Every day he would scan the waters that held him\nprisoner for the welcome sight of a sail. He had been disappointed.\nNow his only hope was to escape to the mainland in some way. He feared\nthe savages. He had heard stories of their being cannibals. But if\nthey could come to his island in their canoes against the prevailing\nwind, why could he not get to the mainland with it in his favor?\nStrange as it may be, Robinson began to wish for the return of the\nsavages. He hoped to watch them at a distance and find out something\nabout their customs. More especially he wished that he might capture\none of them. He had two reasons for this. In the first place he would\nhave a companion. He pictured fondly how he would teach him gentle\nmanners and the English speech. And, too, the companion would be able\nto help him. Besides this he longed above all to know more of the\nmainland and whether it would be safe to go there. He wanted to find\nout in what kind of boat they made the voyage. He thought that if he\nhad such a person he would have someone to show him the way to reach\nthe land.\nThe more he thought, the more anxious he became to see the savages\non the island. He thought so much about it by day that he dreamed about\nit at night. One night he dreamed that the savages came, drew their\nboats upon the shore and began to prepare their feast. As he watched\nthem one of their number broke away from his fellows and came straight\ntoward his hiding-place. Robinson thought he rushed out, drove away\nthose that followed the fleeing man and rescued him. This dream made\na deep impression upon him and made him await the coming of the savages\nwith great hopes and eagerness.\nIt was more than eighteen months after he had formed this plan of\ncapturing one of the savages before the savages made their appearance.\nRobinson was surprised one morning to see no less than five canoes\ndrawn up on the shore at a point on his side of the island about two\nmiles below his shelter, to the south. The people that had come in\nthem were on shore and out of sight. Robinson went back to his shelter\nto make his plans. He made up his mind that he would be foolish to\nattack them. There must be twenty-five or thirty of them. He finally\nwent to a point where he could see farther inland and soon caught\nsight of a crowd of about thirty savages. They were naked and dancing\naround and around in a circle. All the while they were singing and\nmaking hideous noises. There was a fire in the center of the ring of\nsavages. \"They are cooking their feast,\" thought Robinson. \"Maybe I\ncan surprise them while they eat and rush in and seize one.\" But this\nseemed too great a risk to run. He had no weapons but his bow and\narrows, his lance and knife. What could he do against so great a\nnumber?\nBut fortune favored his plans. As he gazed at them from his safe\ndistance he saw one of their number break away from the rest and run\nwith utmost speed directly toward his hiding-place. At once two other\nsavages pursued him. They had no weapons but clubs. They ran with\ngreat swiftness, but the man in front was steadily gaining ground.\nRobinson now to tell the truth was dreadfully frightened to see the\nsavage run directly toward him and his shelter. He kept his place,\nhowever, and watched the race. The man running away ran along the\nshore and would soon come to the little creek that emptied into the\nsea below his home. Robinson saw that the savage would have to swim\nthis to escape. He ran down thither and concealed himself behind a\ntree and waited for the fugitive to come up. As he did so, the fleeing\nsavage plunged in and swam across with a few strong strokes. When he\nwas well on the bank, Robinson presented himself and made signs to\nhim to come to him and he would help him. The savage was at first almost\novercome with astonishment and fright, for Robinson presented a very\nunusual sight. The savage at once ran to him and fell down at his\nfeet. Indeed so great was his fright and distress that he placed one\nof Robinson's feet upon his neck in sign that he yielded up his life\ninto his hands. Robinson raised him up and motioned for him to take\nthe lance and help in defence against the men, now coming up. They\nhid behind trees and waited for them to swim across the stream. But\nthis they did not do. When they reached the creek, they could see nothing\nof their runaway. They very slowly turned and went back to their\ncompanions.\nRobinson was well content not to let them know that there was any one\non the island. He feared they might return and destroy his shelter\nand fields.\nRobinson took the savage to his shelter and gave him bread and raisins\nto eat, and a cup of water to drink. He was very hungry and ate\ngreedily. After he had eaten, Robinson made signs for him to lie down\nand sleep, for the Indian was nearly tired out with his long and swift\nrun.\nHe was a handsome fellow of his race. His limbs were large, straight\nand strong. He had a good face. His hair was long and black, his\nforehead high, and his eyes bright. His skin was not black, but of\nan olive color. His teeth were fine set and as white as ivory.\nHe slept about an hour; when he awoke he came running to Robinson and\nagain made signs to him that he was his slave. \"You saved my life,\"\nhe seemed to say, \"and now I will serve you.\" Robinson named him Friday\nat once, for that was the day on which the great event of his escape\nhad taken place.\nRobinson's next care was to fit him out with some clothing. He had\nby this time several suits made of his coarse cloth. He soon had Friday\ndressed in one of the old ones, with a straw or braided hat on his\nhead. He did not think it safe to allow Friday to sleep with him in\nthe bower. He made a little tent for him inside the enclosure. This\nwas covered with goatskins and made a very good protection from both\nheat and rain.\nRobinson took care to keep all his knives and weapons near him in the\nbower. But his fears that Friday might harm him were unfounded. Friday\nfrom the first was faithful to his master. He was sweet and obedient\nin all things. He seemed to look upon Robinson with the love of a\nchild for its father and never tired of serving him.\nXXXVII\nROBINSON AS A TEACHER\n(From Robinson's Diary)\n\"I began to consider that having now two mouths to feed instead of\none, I must provide more ground for my harvest and plant a larger\nquantity of corn than I used to plant. So I marked out a larger piece\nof land and began to fence it in. Friday worked not only very\nwillingly but very hard. I told him that it was for corn to make more\nbread because he was now with me. He let me know that he was grateful\nfor my kindness and would work much harder if I would tell him what\nto do.\n\"This was the pleasantest year of all the life I led in this place.\nFriday began to talk pretty well and understood the names of almost\nall the things that I called for and of all the places which I wished\nto send him. I was careful to teach him all the things I knew. I\nshowed him how to plant and harvest corn, how to gather fibre, spin\nyarn and to weave it into cloth. He learned these things quickly and\nbecame very skillful in making pots. He knew something about this\nbecause at home he had seen the women make them. He ornamented them\nwith figures of birds and flowers. I taught him about the true God.\nBut as for writing he could never do much with this. I had no books\nand could not make him understand the importance of writing. He began\nto talk a great deal to me. This delighted me very much. I began to\nlove him exceedingly. He was so very honest and faithful.\n\"After I had taught him English I tried one day to find out whether\nhe had any wish to return to his own country and as I talked to him\nabout it I saw his face light up with joy and his eye sparkle. From\nthis I had no doubt but that Friday would like to be in his own country\nagain. This for a time made me sad, to think how eagerly he would\nleave me to be among his savage friends. 'Do you not wish you were\nback in your own country, Friday?' I said to him one day. 'Yes,' he\nsaid, 'I be much O glad to be back in my country.' 'What would you\ndo there,' said I? 'Would you turn wild again and do as the savages\ndo?' He shook his head and said very gravely, 'No, no, Friday tell\nthem to live good. He tell them to plant corn and live like white mans.'\n\"One day when we were on the top of a hill on the west side of the\nisland, Friday suddenly began to jump and dance about in great glee.\nI asked him what the matter was. 'O, joy, O glad,' he said; 'there\nmy country!' The air was so clear that from this place, as I had before\ndiscovered, land could be distinctly seen looking westward.\n\"I asked him how far it was from our island to his country and whether\ntheir canoes were ever lost in coming and going. He said that there\nwas no danger. No canoes were ever wrecked and that it was easy to\nget back and forth. I asked him many things about his people and country.\nHe told me that away to the west of his country there lived 'white\nmans like you.' I thought these must be the people of Central America,\nand asked him how I might come from this island and get among these\nwhite men. He made me understand that I must have a large boat as big\nas two canoes.\n\"I resolved at once to begin to make a boat large enough for us to\npass over to the land we could see lying to the west and if possible\nto go on to the white man's country Friday told me about. It took us\nnearly two months to make our boat and rig her out with sails, masts,\nrudder, and anchor. We had to weave our sails and twist our rope. We\nburned out the canoe from a large fallen log. We used a great stone\ntied securely to the end of a strong rope for an anchor.\n\"When we had the boat in the water, Friday showed great skill in\nrowing or paddling it.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON AND FRIDAY SAILING THE BOAT]\n\"He had managed boats ever since he was old enough, but he did not\nknow how to handle a sail or rudder. He learned very quickly, however,\nto sail and steer the boat and soon was perfectly at home in it.\n\"We made our boat safe by keeping it in the little cove at the mouth\nof the creek. I had Friday to fetch rocks and build a dock or place\nfor landing. But the rainy season was now coming on and we must wait\nfor fair weather. In the meantime I planned to lay by such quantities\nof food as we would need to take along.\"\nXXXVIII\nANOTHER SHIPWRECK\nOne evening Robinson sat in his shelter thinking of his plans to\nescape to Friday's country. He was sad. For, after all, this place\nwas very dear to him. It was the only home he had. Had he not made\neverything with his own hands? It was doubly dear to him on this\naccount. He thought how it would grieve him to leave his goats, his\nfields, and the many comforts he had here.\nHe had been telling Friday of his home in New York. He told him of\nthe great city, and of its many wonderful sights. He told him of his\ncountry and people, of his flag and its history. All these things\nbrought back memories of his boyhood and he wondered what changes had\ncome in his long absence. Friday, with wonderful intelligence,\nlistened to all Robinson told him. He was delighted in hearing\nRobinson tell of the wonders of the great world, for he had never\nknown anything about it. As they talked Robinson noticed the approach\nof a storm. The sky was getting black with clouds. The winds were\nblowing a hurricane. The waves were coming in mountain high. It\nreminded him of the eventful night now twenty-five years ago when his\nship was tossed up on the shore like an egg shell and broken to\npieces.\nSuddenly there was a sound that made Robinson start from his seat with\nthe wildest alarm. Was it the sound of a cannon from the ocean or the\nterrible crash and roar of the water on the rocks of the coast? There\nit is again; it is a cannon! Some ship is in distress! This is its\nsignal! Robinson ran out and down to the shore with Friday at his\nheels.\n\"O master!\" said Friday, \"can we not help? If they only knew the\nisland was here and how to steer into the harbor beyond the point of\nland on the south.\"\nRobinson was so excited that he scarcely knew what he was doing. He\nran up and down the shore calling wildly, but the awful roar of the\nsea and wind drowned his cries. Suddenly his thoughts came to him.\n\"Quick, Friday, get some fire in a pot. We will run to the point,\ngather grass and wood, and make a fire there. Maybe we can guide them\ninto the harbor.\"\nThey soon had a great beacon light sending its welcome greeting far\nover the sea. The pilot of the ship saw it and steered his ship nearer\nand nearer. Robinson was ready to shout for joy as the ship seemed\nabout to make the harbor. The ship had her sails torn in shreds and\nher rudder broken. It was hard to steer her in such a gale. On\nrounding the point, she was blown on the rocks. With a frightful crash\nwhich could be heard above the din of the storm she struck and held\nfast. Robinson could hear the cries of the men and the orders of the\nofficers. They were trying to get boats ready to put off, but such\nwas the confusion of the storm and the enormous waves breaking over\nthe deck that it could not be done quickly. Before the men could get\na boat into the sea, and get into it, the ship gave a lurch to one\nside as though about to sink. All the men jumped for one boat. It was\noverburdened. The wind tossed it about. The sea soon filled it and\nit went down and all were lost.\nRobinson and Friday remained on the shore all night. They watched to\nsee if they could not help some poor sailor that might cling to a\nplank and be blown on shore. They saw no one.\nAt last they lay down, but they could not sleep. Many times they\nsprang up and ran about for fear that some poor fellow would need\ntheir help. At last morning came. The storm ceased. Robinson and\nFriday searched everywhere for the bodies of the sailors, but could\nfind none. But the wind had blown the ship in plain view, and into\nshallow waters. It was lying on the bottom with more than half its\nbulk out of the water. The masts were gone. It was a sad sight. No\nhuman being could be seen on it.\nThey were now rejoiced that they had their boat ready. \"Let us take\nit,\" said Robinson \"and go out to the ship. It may be some person is\nstill on the unfortunate ship.\" They were soon by the ship's side.\nThey rowed around it until they saw a rope hanging down from the deck.\nRobinson seized this and clambered up. Friday tied the boat fast, and\nfollowed. Robinson opened the door leading from the deck into the ship\nand went down. He searched in all the cabins, and knocked at all the\ndoors. He called, but all was still. When he was satisfied that every\nperson on board had been drowned he wept bitterly.\nFriday stood there with open and staring eyes. He looked and looked.\nHe was astonished at the large ship and at the wonderful things before\nhim. They were in the cabin where the passengers had been. There stood\ntrunks under the benches and clothes hung on the hooks on the wall.\nOne trunk was open. In it were telescopes through which the travelers\nhad looked at the land. Robinson saw also paper, pens, pen-holders\nand ink. Books were also near by. Robinson first took a thick book.\nIt was the Bible, out of which his mother had so often taught him.\nThen they came to the sailors' cabin. There hung muskets and swords\nand bags of shot and cartridges. Then they went to the work-room. There\nwere saws, hammers, spades, shovels, chisels, nails, bottles, and pails,\nknives and forks. And something more, over which Robinson was most\nglad, matches. At last they came into the store-room. There lay bags\nof flour and barley, teas, lentils, beans and sugar. Then Robinson\nembraced Friday in his great joy and said to him, \"How rich we are!\"\nXXXIX\nSAVING THINGS FROM THE SHIP\nAfter Robinson had looked through the ship he began to plan the way\nto get the tools and things he most wanted on shore. He and Friday\nfirst carried everything together that he wanted to take on shore.\nWhen they had done this, he found he had the following things. Robinson\nstood everything together that he needed most.\n  1. A case of nails and screws.\n  2. Two iron axes and several hatchets.\n  4. A small case of planes, tongs, augers,\n       files, chisels, etc.\n  5. A third case with iron brackets, hooks,\n       hinges, etc.\n  6. A case of matches.\n  7. A barrel of gunpowder.\n  8. Two muskets and a pistol.\n  9. Several swords.\n  10. A bag of cartridges.\n  11. A large sail cloth and some rope.\n  12. A telescope.\nBy means of the ship's ropes, Robinson let everything down into his\nboat. He himself took the Bible and then they rowed to the shore, and\nunloaded the boat. Everything was put into the bower where rain could\nnot harm it. By the time they had this done, night was coming on and\nthey decided to do no more that day, but wait until the next day.\n\"We must work fast,\" said Robinson. \"The first storm is likely to\nbreak the ship in pieces and destroy everything in it.\"\nThe next morning early they ate a hastily prepared breakfast and were\noff to the boat. Neither Robinson nor Friday stopped for their noonday\nlunch. \"A storm is brewing,\" said Robinson, \"the air is calm, the sky\nis overcast with clouds, the heat is oppressive. We must hurry.\" With\nthe utmost diligence they rowed back and forth all day. They made nine\ntrips. They had now on shore a surprising quantity of all kinds of\ntools, goods and weapons. They had all kinds of ware to use in the\nkitchen, clothes, and food. Robinson prized a little four-wheeled\nwagon and a whetstone.\nBut in looking over his stores, Robinson suddenly discovered that he\nhad no needles or thread. They went at once to procure these important\narticles. In looking for needles and thread, Robinson found a small\ntrunk full of money and valuable stones. There were diamonds, rubies,\npearls, and much gold. Robinson pushed it to one side. \"What can I\ndo with riches on this island? I would give them all for some needles\nand thread,\" he said to Friday. But on second thought he took the trunk\nand its contents along with him to his cave. For in the trunk were\nalso letters and writings. \"Perhaps,\" he said, \"these tell to whom\nthe valuables belong and I can return them some time.\"\nRobinson at last found a case containing everything one could need\nwith which to cut and sew cloth. There were scissors, thread, needles,\nthimbles, tapes, and buttons. But now the wind was rising and they\nmust hurry. They were nearly ready for departure. They were passing\nthrough a part of the ship not before visited. They were surprised\nto hear a sound coming from a room whose door was kept shut by a heap\nof stuff that had been thrown against it by the violent pitching of\nthe ship in the storm. Robinson and Friday cleared away the rubbish\nand were surprised to find a dog almost drowned. He was so weak from\nwant of food that his cries could be heard a short distance only. Robinson\ntook him tenderly in his arms and carried him to the boat, while\nFriday carried the sewing case and the trunk.\nThe wind was now blowing a gale. A few yards from the ship they were\nin great danger. Robinson grasped the rudder and made Friday stand\nready to cut away the mast in case they found the wind too strong.\nWith the greatest difficulty they finally made the little cove at the\nmouth of the creek and were soon landed with their precious cargo.\nThe next morning they eagerly searched the waters for the ship. Not\neven their field glasses could reveal anything of it. Some planks,\na mast, and parts of a small boat were blown on shore. All else had\ndisappeared.\nRobinson set to work at once to make a door for his bower out of the\npine wood cast up by the waves. How easy the work proceeded with saws,\nhammers, augers, squares, planes, nails, hinges, and screws! With the\nwagon too, Friday could now gather his corn quickly and easily, or\nhaul in a great quantity of grapes to dry for raisins.\nFriday had never seen a gun. He did not know the use of firearms. The\nmuskets that Robinson had brought from the ship were a great mystery\nto him. Robinson showed him their use. He showed how they could defend\nthemselves. He told Friday that these weapons would kill at a\ndistance. He took some powder and touched a match to it. Friday was\ngreatly frightened.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON SHOWING FRIDAY HOW TO SHOOT]\nRobinson then proceeded to load the gun. He put in some powder, a\nball of lead or bullet. Then at the hammer he placed a little cap\nwhich gave a flash when struck. This ignited the powder. When all\nwas in readiness Robinson bade Friday follow him. They went slowly\nout into the forest along the stream. Soon Robinson espied a rabbit\nsitting under a clump of grass. Robinson raised his gun, took careful\naim, pressed the trigger. There was a flash and loud report and there\nlay the rabbit dead. But Friday, too, was lying on the ground. He had\nfainted from astonishment and fright. Robinson dropped his gun and\nraised the poor fellow up to a sitting position. He quickly recovered.\nHe ran to get the rabbit. He examined it carefully. Robinson at last\npointed out the hole the bullet had made and the mystery of the way\nthe rabbit was killed was solved.\nRobinson had lived alone so long that he had learned to love every\nliving creature on the island. He never harmed anything except when\nhe needed food. He had lived so quietly that the birds and animals\ndid not fear him. They lived near his shelter and seemed to know him.\nRobinson was delighted with his new tools and weapons. But they\nreminded him of home. Nothing that he had seen in all the time he had\nbeen on the island so turned his thoughts toward home and friends.\nRobinson would sit for hours thinking of the past and making plans\nfor the future. He was homesick.\nXL\nTHE RETURN OF THE SAVAGES\nRobinson now renewed his plans for escaping from the island to\nFriday's country. They first rebuilt their boat with their new tools.\nThey hollowed out the center till the sides were thin toward the top.\nThey shaped her sides and keel. They made her prow sharp so that she\nwould cut the water easily. They made a new mast, strong and tall and\nshapely. They made larger and stronger sails and ropes. They made two\npairs of extra oars. They made boxes and cupboards in the prow and\nstern for keeping their fresh water and provisions. Friday's eyes\nsparkled with joy when it was done. He hoped he would now be able to\nreturn to his own island and parents. Robinson noticed his joy and\nasked him, \"Do you want to return to your own people?\"\n\"Yes,\" said Friday, \"very much.\"\n\"Would you trust yourself in this boat?\"\n\"Yes,\" said Friday.\n\"Very well,\" said his master, \"you may have it and start home when\nyou please.\". \"Yes, Master, but you come too, my people will not hurt\nyou.\" Robinson resolved to venture over to Friday's land with him.\nBut before their preparations were complete the rainy season of our\nfall set in. They resolved to wait until the weather was settled and\nas soon as the rainy season was over to set out. They ran their boat\nwell up into the creek and covered it over with a large tarpaulin made\nof sail-cloth obtained from the ship.\nRobinson had now been on the island twenty-seven years. For the last\nthree years he had lived happily with his companion Friday. Every year\nin September, Robinson celebrated the day his life was saved and he\nwas thrown up on the island. Robinson celebrated it this year with\nmore than the usual thankfulness. He thought that it would be his last\nanniversary on the island.\nOne morning, Friday had gone to the beach to find a turtle. Soon he\ncame running back out of breath. \"O Master,\" he cried, \"they are\ncoming, they are coming to take me prisoner!\" He was trembling with\nfright.\n\"We must take our guns and defend ourselves,\" said Robinson. \"But we\nwill not kill anyone unless they attack us.\" This quieted Friday. They\nloaded four muskets and three pistols. Robinson put the pistols in\nhis belt, where he also fastened a sword. He gave Friday a pistol and\na musket, for Friday had learned to shoot well. Besides Friday carried\na bag of powder and bullets. Robinson took his field glasses and saw\ntwenty-one savages with two prisoners. The prisoners were bound and\nlying on the ground. This was a war party celebrating a victory with\na feast. They probably intended to kill their prisoners. \"We must save\nthe lives of those men,\" said Robinson.\nThe savages this time had landed quite near Robinson's shelter, not\nmore than a half mile below the creek's mouth. Soon he and Friday\nstarted off. Robinson commanded Friday to follow quietly and not to\nspeak or shoot.\n\"We will surprise them and give them a good scare,\" said Robinson.\nWhen yet a considerable distance away they could hear the savages\nyelling and screaming. Some of them were dancing their war dance.\nTheir faces and bodies were painted to make them look terrible to\ntheir enemies. They were dancing around their prisoners with hideous\ncries and gestures. They could now see the prisoners plainly. One had\na beard and was plainly a white man. Robinson was surprised and\ndetermined to save him at all risks.\n\"Get your gun ready to fire,\" he said to Friday, \"and when I say the\nword let us run forward yelling and firing our guns over their heads.\nThis will fill them with such fright that they will take to their\nheels and boats and get away as soon as possible. In the scramble and\nconfusion we will rush in and rescue the prisoners.\"\nThis plan did not please Friday at all. His savage blood was up and\nhe wanted to kill all he could. \"Let's fire on them,\" he said. \"Let's\nkill all but the prisoners.\"\n\"No, no,\" said Robinson, \"it's always wrong to take life unless it\ncannot be avoided to save one's own. Let's try my plan first.\"\nWith great reluctance Friday consented. At a signal from Robinson they\nrushed forward, and when in plain sight they fired off their muskets\nin the air. If the ground had suddenly exploded beneath their feet\nthere could have been no more confusion, astonishment, and fright.\nA few took to their heels. Others lay as if dead. They had swooned\nfrom fright. But as Robinson came up they jumped to their feet and\npushed into the boats, leaving the prisoners behind. Robinson and Friday\nstill rushed forward and fired their remaining loaded guns and pistols\nin the air. The savages made all haste to get into their boats and\npush off. Soon they were well out to sea, paddling rapidly for the\nwest. Robinson reloaded his arms and gave them a farewell volley, but\nnot a soul was killed or even wounded. This gave Robinson great\npleasure. He had accomplished his purpose without bloodshed.\nThey could now turn to the prisoners. Robinson ran back to them and\nquickly cut their ropes. Robinson asked the white man who he was, but\nthe man was too weak to answer. Robinson gave him a piece of bread.\nThe fear of death being removed, the white man soon grew stronger.\nWhen Friday came running back from watching the boats and saw the\nsavage that had been a prisoner he gave a loud yell. He threw his arms\naround the man, kissed him and laughed and cried for joy. He put his\nhead on his breast and hugged him again and again. Robinson was\ngreatly surprised and puzzled. He asked Friday what his actions meant.\nBut so intent was Friday that he got no answer.\nAt last Friday recovered far enough from his great joy to say with\nface beaming with delight, \"O, Master, this man is my dear father.\"\nThey at once began a long conversation, each one told his story.\nSuddenly Friday jumped up and said, \"How foolish I am, I have not\nthought to give my father anything to eat and drink. He must be nearly\nstarved.\" And away he ran toward the shelter and was soon back with\nfood and water to drink.\n[Illustration: FRIDAY AND HIS FATHER]\nRobinson learned through Friday from his father that the white man\nwas a Spaniard, that he had been captured by the tribe that had a battle\nwith Friday's people. The Spaniard was one of sixteen men that had\nbeen saved by Friday's people from a wrecked ship. So weak were the\nprisoners that they could not walk to the shelter. Robinson and Friday\nmade a litter and carried them one after the other. When once there,\nFriday prepared some rich rice soup. The prisoners ate heartily and\nin a few days were strong enough to go about the island.\nXLI\nDELIVERANCE AT LAST\nFriday had not forgotten the plan for going to his home. He would\noften mention it and spent hours talking about it during the long\nrainy season. But now that the Spaniard and Friday's father had come\ninto the family, Robinson felt he must change his plans a little. He\nfelt very sorry for the Spaniards left in Friday's country. They did\nnot have enough to eat and were sick and sad besides. He talked the\nmatter over with the Spaniard many times. They at last planned to send\nfor them. The Spaniard and Friday's father were to go. Robinson was\nfor doing it at once. But the Spaniard advised delay. \"How can we get\nfood for ourselves and fifteen others? Your small store will soon be\nused up,\" he argued. Robinson at last saw that this difficulty must\nbe overcome. There was just one thing to do, and this, to delay their\ndeparture until a new crop of corn could be raised. This would take\nsix months.\nBut at it they went. The four men could do much and work fast. They\ncleared more ground and planted all the seed corn they could spare\nfrom their store. Besides this they sowed about twelve bushels of\nbarley they had gotten in the ship.\nThe care for so much crop, its harvesting and storing away, kept them\nvery busy for the season. Robinson not only did this, but also\nincreased his flock of goats by catching kids and putting them in his\npasture. He gathered, too, all the grapes he could and dried them on\nthe branches of trees.\nAt the end of the harvesting season, they made ready their boat. They\nfilled it with all the bread it could well carry. They put in raisins\nand fresh water. Robinson gave the Spaniard and Friday's father each\na musket and plenty of powder and bullets. Now, all was ready. Friday\ngave his father a loving farewell. He stretched out his arms towards\nhim as the boat moved away. The Spaniard and Robinson waved their hats\nand they were off.\nThey promised to be back in eight or nine days. Robinson and Friday\nmade every preparation to receive the guests. They were to have a home\nnot far from Robinson's built of poles, and thatched with the long\nmarsh grasses, like Robinson's bower. There was no need of hiding or\ndefending it. It did not take long to fix it up.\nEight days had now passed since the boat had left. Friday could hardly\nrestrain himself longer. He watched the ocean all the time. He would\ngo to the top of the hill with the field glasses every hour during the\nday to catch a first glimpse of them.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON AND FRIDAY SEE A SHIP]\nOn the ninth day, as Friday put up his glasses to search the waters\nhe dropped them with a yell of surprise. He tore down the hill with\nthe utmost speed and rushed up to Robinson as one gone mad. \"Look,\nlook, O Master!\" he cried, \"a big ship; a big ship way out on the sea!\"\nRobinson took the glasses, and sure enough, there within hailing\ndistance was a large ocean going vessel. Robinson was overcome with\nexcitement.\nFor twenty-eight years his aching eyes had scanned the waters for this\nwelcome sight. His joy was boundless. The ship looked like an\nAmerican. Yes, there floated the American flag! How welcome a sight\nto Robinson. He could not utter a word. Tears filled his eyes and\nstreamed down his cheeks. He would soon have news from home. He ran\nto the shore and shot off a gun to attract the attention of those on\nboard. He heard answering shots at once.\nSoon a boat was lowered and in it three men rowed toward the shore.\nIt was the captain himself and two sailors. The captain was astonished\nto find a man in the lonely island. Robinson told how it all had happened\nand how he would like to return home. To his unspeakable delight the\ncaptain told him that the ship was bound for New York and would take\nhim along free of charge, but he must leave that day. The ship could\nnot be delayed any longer. Of course Robinson would go. Friday was\nbeside himself with grief. He did not want to be left behind alone.\nHe did not know that the Spaniards would ever return. Something might\nhappen to them on the sea. But before the eventful day the Spaniards\nlanded. They brought word that Friday's father had died after his\nreturn home. Friday was thrown into a fit of grief at the news. He\nwept and repeated over and over his praise of the good man.\nXLII\nROBINSON AT HOME\nIt was with a sad heart that Robinson made ready to leave. Every\nfamiliar place seemed now doubly dear to him. He went from one to\nanother with tears in his eyes. Here lay his home. Here were his\nfields, his crops and his goats. Everything was the work of his own\nhands. He had made them all. Which should he take? He hesitated long.\nHe must take home some of his belongings to show the people at home.\nAnd there were his parrot and the dog which had won a place in\nRobinson's heart. He decided to take them along. At length he got\ntogether his diary, his parasol, his Bible, his treasures, a suit of\nclothes, his dog, and a hat. He had saved, too, his bow and arrows.\nThese he decided to take along. Everything else he gave to his good\nman Friday and the Spaniard who wished to be allowed to remain on the\nisland.\nRobinson kissed Friday tenderly. He with great effort finally tore\nhimself away and ran to the shore where the ship's boat awaited him.\nBut Robinson had not counted on the strength of Friday's love for him.\nRobinson's boat had not yet reached the ship when Friday sprang into\nthe water and swam after him shouting, \"Master, take me with you, I\nwould rather die than stay here without you.\" Robinson was touched\nat the devotion showed by the faithful Friday, and gave orders to turn\nthe boat back, and take him on board. The anchor was raised. The ship\nstarted on her way to the home Robinson had left so long ago.\n[Illustration: ROBINSON LEAVING THE ISLAND]\nThe wind was favorable and in seven weeks the spires and buildings\nof his native city were in sight. His vessel came slowly up to the\nwharf where he had taken ship so many years ago. Here, too, he had\nplayed and idled his time away. He remembered it all. His idleness\nand playing truant came back in sad memories. Before Robinson and Friday\nlanded, their good friend the captain gave them each a new suit of\nclothes.\nEverything had changed. He scarcely knew the place. He was astonished\nand confused by the din, hurry and bustle of a great city. Friday\nseemed dazed by it all and clung to Robinson's side. The buildings\nwere so tall, the street cars, the carriages were different.\nEverywhere there were iron machines, casting out smoke, puffing and\nrunning about on iron rails. Robinson had never seen these.\nRobinson, however, did not stop to admire; he pushed on to a certain\nstreet and house where lived his parents at the time of his departure.\nIt was with difficulty that he found the place. It was now in the\nheart of the city. Upon inquiry he found, after much searching, that\nhis father had removed his store and home to another part of the city,\nhis mother had died of grief for her disobedient son. Robinson was\nsorely grieved at this. He had hoped to see her and tell her how sorry\nhe was that he had caused her so much anxiety and sorrow.\nWhen he had found the place where his father lived he stole quietly\nup to the house and opened the door. His father, now a gray-haired\nman, bent with age and sorrow, was sitting in his armchair reading.\nRobinson came forward, but his father did not recognize him. \"Who are\nyou?\" he said. \"I am Robinson, your long-lost son.\" He knelt by his\nfather's side and asked forgiveness for all the trouble he had caused.\nHis father was overcome. He could not speak. He drew Robinson with\nfeeble hands to his breast. \"My son, I forgive you,\" he said.\nRobinson's boyhood friends heard of his strange return. They had\nthought him dead long ago. They never tired of hearing him tell his\nstrange story. They pitied him in his misfortune. But Robinson told\nthem that it all happened to him because he was idle and disobedient\nin his youth.\nRobinson at once relieved his father at the store. The business\nthrived. His father died. He soon had a home of his own with a happy\nfamily. Friday, the dog, and the parrot lived in it, dearly beloved\nand cared for by their master the rest of their days. In the home\nthere is a young Robinson who loves to hear his father read from his\ndiary of the wonderful things that happened on the island.\nRobinson tried many times to find the rightful owner of the gold and\njewels, but never succeeded. At last he gave them to a school where\nboys with idle habits were taught to lead useful and industrious\nlives.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's An American Robinson Crusoe, by Samuel B. Allison", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  An American Robinson Crusoe\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "WILLIAM PAUL, CLERK, AND JOHN HALL OF OTTERBURN, ESQ ***\n    REMARKS\n    ON THE\n    SPEECHES\n    _William Paul_, Clerk,\n    AND\n    _John Hall_ of _Otterburn_, Esq;\n    Executed at _Tyburn_ for Rebellion, the 13th\n        In which the Government and Administration both in Church\n        and State, as founded upon the Revolution, are Vindicated\n        from the Treasonable Reflections and false Aspersions\n        thrown upon them in those Speeches, which are inserted at\n        length, as they were deliver\u2019d to the Sheriffs.\n    _LONDON_,\n    Printed for =J. BAKER= and =T. WARNER= at the _Black\n    Boy_ in _Pater-noster-Row_. M. DCC. XVI.\n=REMARKS= _on the Speech of_ William Paul, _Clerk_.\n_INTRODUCTION._\nAny Judicious Man, who will be at the pains attentively to read\nthe following Speeches, and compare them with the Papers left by\nLord _Derwentwater_, Colonel _Oxburgh_, and the other Rebels lately\nexecuted, must soon be convinc\u2019d, That they all proceed from the same\nMint, and are fram\u2019d on purpose to spirit up the Faction to a New\nRebellion.\nThere\u2019s such an Uniformity in the Stile, Matter, and Way of Arguing,\nas sufficiently proves this; so that instead of being the Speeches of\nthe deceas\u2019d Rebels, they plainly appear to be the Composure of others,\nwho endeavour to serve the Cause not only at the Expence of those poor\nMens Reputation, but even of their Souls, by prevailing upon them to\ndeliver such Papers as their dying Sentiments, and the Result of their\nown Thoughts.\nThis is very plain in the Case of Mr. _Hall_, who being ask\u2019d at the\nPlace of Execution, if the Paper he deliver\u2019d was writ by himself,\nhe avoided giving a direct Answer, and only said it contain\u2019d his\nSentiments; tho \u2019tis highly probable he never carefully read it, if we\nconsider the notorious Falshood which he is made to assert, _That the\nRebels conquer\u2019d the King\u2019s Troops at_ Preston.\nBesides, he and Mr. _Paul_ were so far from being stedfast to the\nPretender\u2019s Interest, as is given out in the Speeches, and so little\nfond of what they call Martyrdom, that \u2019tis very well known they us\u2019d\nall possible Endeavours to save their Lives, would have disown\u2019d the\nPretender\u2019s Claim, and renew\u2019d their Oaths to the Government, could\nthey have obtain\u2019d their Pardon on that Condition. The Speech-makers\nwere not ignorant of this, but they resolv\u2019d to delude the unthinking\nPopulace, and to make those Men pass for Valiant and Glorious Martyrs;\ntho, in truth, they liv\u2019d and dy\u2019d the most hateful Dissemblers, both\nwith God and Man, that ever were heard of.\nBut to come to the Speeches themselves.\nMr. _PAUL_\u2019s SPEECH.\n_Good People, I am just going to make my Appearance in the other World,\nwhere I must give an Account of all the Actions of my past Life:\nand tho I have endeavour\u2019d to make my Peace with God, by sincerely\nrepenting of all my Sins, yet forasmuch as several of them are of a\nPublick Nature, I take it to be my Duty to declare here, in the Face of\nthe World, my hearty Abhorrence and Detestation of them._\n_REMARKS._\n\u2019Tis easy to perceive that this Paragraph is calculated to gain Credit\nto what he was afterwards to say; but the judicious Reader will\ndiscover the Artifice, and that the Author is far from being ingenuous.\n\u2019Tis very odd, in a Protestant Divine, to talk of _making his Peace\nwith God, by a sincere Repentance of all his Sins_, and not say one\nWord of Faith in the Merits of Jesus Christ; without which, Repentance\ncan neither be sincere nor perfect. This looks so like the Popish\nDoctrine, that Penance is a sufficient Atonement for Sin, as gives\nevery one just Cause to suspect the Author\u2019s Religion.\nHe takes notice, that several of his Sins were of a Publick Nature,\nand that he thought it his Duty to declare his hearty Abhorrence and\nDetestation of them in the Face of the World; but how much he juggled\nin this Matter, will be evident by the two following Paragraphs, and\nthe Reflections upon them.\nThe SPEECH.\n_And first, I ask Pardon of God and the King, for having violated my\nLoyalty, by taking most abominable Oaths in Defence of Usurpation,\nagainst my Lawful Sovereign King_ James _the Third_.\n_And as I ask Pardon of all Persons whom I have injur\u2019d or offended, so\nI do especially desire Forgiveness of all those whom I have scandaliz\u2019d\nby pleading Guilty. I am sensible that it is a Base and Dishonourable\nAction; that it is inconsistent with my Duty to the King, and an\nentire Surrender of my Loyalty. Human Frailty, and too great a Desire\nof Life, together with the Persuasions of several who pretended to\nbe my Friends, were the Occasion of it. I trust God of his infinite\nMercy, upon my sincere Repentance, has forgiven me; and I hope all good\nChristians will._\n_REMARKS._\nSince the Author owns, that several of his Sins were of a Publick\nNature, he ought to have been very particular and exact in the\nEnumeration of them; but he mentions only two, _viz._ his taking what\nhe calls most abominable Oaths in Defence of Usurpation, and his\npleading Guilty to his Indictment.\nHe must be a very superficial Reader, who does not observe, that these\nthings, which Mr. _Paul_ calls Sins, were attended with others of\nas heinous and publick a Nature; of which he says not one Word. For\nhis taking the Oaths, if he thought them abominable, was not only a\nCrime against his pretended Lawful Sovereign, King _James_ III. but a\ndreadful mocking of God, and treacherous Imposition upon the present\nGovernment, and his Country; and so much the more, that he continu\u2019d in\nthis abominable Practice till the time the Rebellion broke out: and it\nwas aggravated by this heinous Circumstance, That he went from the very\nPulpit in which he preach\u2019d by the Authority of the present Government,\nto join those who rose in Arms against it. Had he been a sincere\nPenitent, such hateful Prevarication with God and Man must have star\u2019d\nhim in the Face, and call\u2019d for an express and humble Acknowledgment\nof it; whereas he confines his Repentance to what he did against the\nLoyalty which he fancies he ow\u2019d the Pretender.\nOne might have expected, from a true and ingenuous Penitent, an Account\nof the Reasons why he calls the present Government an Usurpation:\nfor tho perhaps he might think, that the Word of a dying Priest\nwas Authority enough for the Bigots of his Party, he ought to have\nconsider\u2019d, that others would expect very strong and convincing\nArguments to prove, that his single Judgment should be prefer\u2019d not\nonly to that of our present Legislature, but of all our Parliaments;\nwho, ever since we were a Nation, have asserted it to be their\nindisputed Right to dethrone Tyrants, and to settle the Succession\nin such a manner as they thought most conducible to preserve the\nLiberties of the People. Nothing can be more evident than this in all\nour Histories and Acts of Parliament before the Reformation; and he\nmust have been prodigiously ignorant, if he did not know that. It has\nbeen the Practice, as well as the Principle of the Church of _England_\nsince she became Protestant: For all the World knows, that in the\nbeginning of the Reformation, under _Henry_ VIII. she own\u2019d the Power\nof Parliaments, in settling the Succession, about which there were\nseveral Acts made in his Reign. In that of his Son, King _Edward_ VI.\nit appears plain enough that the leading Protestants were of the same\nmind, when they agreed to set aside his Popish Sister Queen _Mary_, and\nto settle the Crown on Lady _Jane Grey_. And \u2019tis as well known, that\nthe famous Martyr, Bishop _Ridley_, did openly preach against Queen\n_Mary_\u2019s Title, at _Paul_\u2019s-Cross.\nIn Queen _Elizabeth_\u2019s Reign it appears, by the Records of Parliament,\nthat the Bishops of the Church of _England_ did unanimously agree not\nonly to set aside the Title of _Mary_ the Popish Queen of _Scots_,\nwho was next Heiress to the _English_ Crown; but also to take off her\nHead, because of her Plots against Queen _Elizabeth_. \u2019Tis no less\nevident, from the History of that Reign, That the Bishops and Clergy of\n_England_ enabled the Queen, by their Purses and otherwise, to support\nthe Protestants of _France_ and the _Netherlands_, who had taken Arms\nagainst their Tyrannical Sovereigns; and also those of _Scotland_, who\nhad dethron\u2019d the Mother, and set up the Son. In the Reign of King\n_James_ I. the Church of _England_ concurred in like manner to support\nthe Protestants of the _United Netherlands_ and _Germany_ against their\nTyrannical Princes; and they continu\u2019d the same Endeavours in the Reign\nof King _Charles_ I. when even Archbishop _Laud_, the Idol of our\nHigh-Church Clergy, concurred in granting Subsidies for the Support of\nthe _French_ Protestants, who were in Arms against their persecuting\nSovereign. What the Church of _England_ did towards dethroning King\n_James_ II. for his Tyranny, is too late to be forgot; and Mr. _Paul_\ncannot but know, that she annually thanks God in her Office on the\n5th of _November_, for bringing over the Prince of _Orange_, and\nmaking all Opposition fall before him, till he became our King and\nGovernour. This, no doubt, he frequently concurred in; and had his\nJacobite Repentance been sincere, he ought to have acknowledg\u2019d that as\npublickly as the other things, which he thought it his Duty to declare\nin the Face of the World.\nUpon the whole, it appears to be of too great Importance for the\nSpeech-makers to think, that Mr. _Paul_\u2019s bare Assertion, without any\nArgument, was sufficient to weigh down such a Train of Authorities.\nHis begging Pardon of those whom he has scandaliz\u2019d by pleading Guilty,\nis the Form which the Ghostly Fathers of the Rebels have put into all\ntheir Mouths; as appears by Lord _Derwentwater_\u2019s Speech, _&c._ But\nsince he calls this a base and dishonourable Action, inconsistent\nwith his Duty to the King, and an entire Surrender of his Loyalty;\nit deserv\u2019d a greater Act of Contrition, than to ascribe it barely\nto human Frailty, a too great Desire of Life, and the Persuasion of\npretended Friends. Here again he shews himself a very loose Protestant,\nwhen he relies upon his own Repentance, without one word of our\nSaviour\u2019s Merits for a Pardon at the hands of God.\nThe SPEECH.\n_You see, my Countrymen, by my Habit, that I die a Son, tho a very\nunworthy one, of the Church of_ England: _but I would not have you\nthink that I am a Member of the Schismatical Church, whose Bishops\nset themselves up in opposition to those Orthodox Fathers, who were\nunlawfully and invalidly depriv\u2019d by the Prince of_ Orange. _I declare\nthat I renounce that Communion, and that I die a Dutiful and Faithful\nMember of the Nonjuring Church; which has kept it self free from\nRebellion and Schism, and has preserv\u2019d and maintain\u2019d true Orthodox\nPrinciples, both as to Church and State. And I desire the Clergy, and\nall Members of the Revolution-Church, to consider what Bottom they\nstand upon, when their Succession is grounded upon an Unlawful and\nInvalid Deprivation of Catholick Bishops; the only Foundation of which\nDeprivation, is a pretended Act of Parliament._\n_REMARKS._\nHere\u2019s a new Discovery, for which the World is oblig\u2019d to the\nSpeech-makers, that the Habit makes a Son, or a Priest, of the Church.\nIt had been well for the She-Comedian, who acted _Roxellana_, that\nthis Doctrine had obtain\u2019d in the Reign of King _Charles_ II. for then\nshe might have been a Countess without Dispute, and her Son Heir to an\nantient Earldom, because she was marry\u2019d to an Earl by his Coachman in\na Priest\u2019s Habit. Parson _Paul_ might also have been better inform\u2019d\nby his good Friends the Papists, among whom \u2019tis a common Proverb,\n_Cuculla non facit Monachum_, That the Coul does not make a Monk: but\nthe plain Design of this Paragraph is to incense the Mob against the\nGovernment, as if they were going to hang up the Church. That was the\nReason why Mr. _Paul_ went to _Tyburn_ in his Priest\u2019s Vestments,\nwhich he needed not have done. We know the time when the Clergy took\na great deal of Care to prevent such a Scandal to their Cloth, and\nthat was when they degraded the Reverend Mr. _Sam. Johnson_, before\nhe was whipt, for writing against Popery and Tyranny; tho he had more\nHonesty, and a better Title to his Orders, than any of those who\npretended to take them from him. But this lets us see where the Blame\nlies, if carrying Mr. _Paul_ to _Tyburn_ in his Priest\u2019s Vestments was\na Disgrace to the Church. There are some in the World, who think the\nCharacter of a Jacobite Priest indelible, tho they did not think so of\nthat Brave and Learned Patriot, Mr. _Johnson_. But however that is,\n\u2019tis no more Reflection upon the Government, that Priests should be\nhang\u2019d in their Habit, than kill\u2019d in the Field for Rebellion; and this\nwe may venture to say, that Parson _Paul_ dishonour\u2019d the Habit more by\nwearing it in the Pulpit, than at the Gallows.\nAt the same time his Friends have a very good way to make themselves\namends, by laying up his Vestments with those of St. _Garnet_ and\n_Faux_, where the Bigots may adore them as precious Relicks; and\nperhaps this was the reason why the Parson would not die in a\nLay-Habit, tho he was disguis\u2019d in one, when taken up for his Treason.\nThe World is farther oblig\u2019d to this Priest, for another important\nDiscovery; to wit, that he was not a Member of the Schismatical Church,\nbut dy\u2019d a dutiful and faithful Member of the Nonjuring Church of\n_England_, which has kept it self free from Rebellion and Schism,\nand has preserv\u2019d and maintain\u2019d true Orthodox Principles, both as\nto Church and State. The Folly and Inconsistency of this Declaration\nis evident at first View, and the Malice of it is what ill became a\ndying Man. \u2019Tis well enough known that he liv\u2019d a _Priest_, tho he\ndid not die a _Member_, of what he call\u2019d the Schismatical Church;\nand he continu\u2019d in her Communion till he went to join the Rebels at\n_Preston_. This is another of his publick Sins, which he forgot in his\nEnumeration of \u2019em in the beginning of his Speech; but he thinks to\natone for that, by renouncing her Communion at Death.\n\u2019Tis pleasant to hear his Reasons for calling the Establish\u2019d Church\nSchismatical, and that is, because her Bishops set themselves up in\nopposition to those Orthodox Fathers, who were unlawfully and invalidly\ndepriv\u2019d by the Prince of _Orange_. So that according to him the\nChurch of _England_ is Schismatical, Republican, and Antimonarchical,\nas well as Dissenters: but had the Speech-maker\u2019s Head been cool, he\nwould have consider\u2019d, that his Argument, were it conclusive, could not\nmake all the Establish\u2019d Church Schismaticks, but only those Bishops\nwho came in place of his depriv\u2019d Orthodox Fathers, and such as liv\u2019d\nunder them; now all those Bishops being dead, the Schism, according\nto Mr. _Dodwell_, the grand Champion of the Party, ceas\u2019d with them.\nBy this we see, that the Party has no fix\u2019d Principle; for tho they\napplauded that Author, and look\u2019d upon him as their Oracle, yet now\nthey differ from him: so that we find it to be true of this Set of\nPeople, That evil Men and Seducers grow worse and worse.\nThe Parson equally discovers his Malice and Ignorance, by finding fault\nwith that Deprivation; for had he ever read the Statute of Provisors,\nmade in the 25th of King _Edward_ III. he might thereby have known,\n\u2018That the Church of _England_ was founded in the Estate of Prelacy,\nby the Kings, Earls, Barons, and other Nobles of this Realm, to\ninform them and the People of the Law of God, _&c._ And that certain\nPossessions, as well in Fees, Lands, Rents, as in Advowsons, which do\nextend to a great Value, were assign\u2019d by the said Founders to the\nPrelates, _&c._\u2019 And since it is so, \u2019tis a known Maxim in Law and\nReason, That they who have a power to make, have a power to unmake:\nand it will be acknowledg\u2019d as a very good reason all over the World,\nto deprive such Prelates as refuse to swear or give Allegiance to the\nGovernment, that founded their Prelacys, and protects their Persons.\nHe might also have seen, by the 5th of the 25th of _Henry_ VIII. that\nthe Bishops of _Salisbury_ and _Worcester_ were depriv\u2019d, because\nnot regarding their Duties to Almighty God, nor the Cures of their\nBishopricks, they dwelt at _Rome_, and other Parts beyond Sea, _&c._\nAnd the Reason given for this Power, then exercis\u2019d by the King and\nParliament, is the same with that already mention\u2019d in the Statute of\nProvisors. Besides, every one knows, that in King _Henry_ VIII. and\nKing _Edward_ VI\u2019s Time, the Bishops held their Commissions only during\nthe Pleasure of the Prince, and as his Delegates.\nIf the Speech-maker\u2019s Friends object, that this relates only to the\nTemporalities of the Bishops, \u2019tis answer\u2019d, that in the Commission\ntaken out by Archbishop _Cranmer_ for his Archbishoprick, his Power\nof ordaining and turning out Presbyters, is also deriv\u2019d from the\nKing. The Commission is at large in Dr. _Burnet_\u2019s History of the\nReformation, Collection of Records, p. 90.\nBut perhaps the Example of that Excellent Primate and Martyr won\u2019t have\nmuch weight with the High-Church Party; therefore I shall give them\none of Bishop _Bonner_, who was as Bloody and High a Churchman as any\nof themselves. He took out a Commission from King _Henry_ VIII. in the\nPreamble of which \u2019tis asserted, \u2018That since all Jurisdiction, both\nEcclesiastical and Civil, flow\u2019d from the King as Supreme Head, and he\nwas the Foundation of all Power; it became those who exercis\u2019d it only\nat the King\u2019s Courtesy, gratefully to acknowledg that they had it only\nof his Bounty, and declare that they would deliver it up again when it\nshould please him to call for it.\u2019 The Commission is exhibited at large\nin Dr. _Burnet_\u2019s History of the Reformation, Vol. 1. Collection of\nRecords, N^o 14.\n\u2019Tis true, that the way of giving Temporary Commissions to Bishops for\nthe Exercise of their Episcopal Power, is now laid aside: but since\nthat Power is still deriv\u2019d from the Sovereign, by virtue of a _Conge\nd\u2019Eslire_, \u2019tis impudent in our High Church Priests to complain of\nthe Deprivation of the Nonjurant Bishops by King _William_ and his\nParliament; especially if we consider, that Bishops were antiently\nchosen in Parliament, till the time of _Henry_ I. and that \u2019tis by\nAct of Parliament our Princes were impower\u2019d to erect and confer\nBishopricks; as appears by 31 _H._ VIII. _c._ 9. & 13. and by the 37th\nof his Reign, _c._ 17. \u2019tis declar\u2019d, \u2018That Archbishops, Bishops,\nArchdeacons, and other Ecclesiastical Persons, have no manner of\nJurisdiction Ecclesiastical, but by and under the King, the only\nundoubted Supreme Head of the Church of _England_.\u2019\nBy the 25th _Henry_ VIII. _c._ 20. the Chapter is oblig\u2019d in twelve\nDays to chuse the Person nam\u2019d by the King in the _Conge d\u2019Eslire_;\nif they do not, his Nomination is sufficient: and the Archbishop and\nBishops, to whom the King\u2019s Signification is directed, are oblig\u2019d to\nconsecrate the Elect within twenty Days, as well as the Chapter is to\npresent him, on pain of a _Premunire_.\nYet tho the _English_ Prelacy is so plainly a Creature of the State,\nand enjoys all its Power and Revenues from it; our High Church Priests\nare so traitorous and unconscionable, that they would have the Bishops\nto enjoy part of the Legislature as an Estate by themselves, and be\ncapable of Posts of State, and of Ecclesiastical and Civil Power,\nwithout any Dependence on the State: which, instead of one Pope over\n_Christendom_, is to set up twenty six Independent Popes in _England_,\nand run both Church and State into Anarchy and Confusion.\nIt is in vain for them to alledg, that they dispute King _William_\u2019s\nPower, because he was not a Lawful King; for we have heard already,\nthat by the antient Constitution of _England_, our Parliaments always\nasserted their Power to dethrone Tyrants, and to set up such in their\nstead as would maintain the Nation\u2019s Privileges.\nThe Speech enumerates so many sorts of Churches of _England_, that it\nwill be hard to tell, according to the Notions of the Faction, how many\nthey will come to at last. Here\u2019s a Schismatical Church of _England_,\na Nonjuring Church of _England_, a Revolution Church of _England_;\nhe might have added a Perjuring Church of _England_, of which he\nhimself, and his Fellow Criminal Mr. _Hall_ were noted Members. \u2019Tis\nridiculous to assert, that the Nonjuring Church has kept it self free\nfrom Rebellion; for all the World knows, that the Men of that Stamp\nbegun what he calls the Rebellion against the late King _James_, and\nthey have been Rebels to all our Sovereigns ever since: so that if\nany Set of Men in the Island deserve to be call\u2019d Rebellious and\nAntimonarchical, \u2019tis they. Was it not for Rebellion, that Mr. _Paul_\nand others of his Party have lost their Lives? We know indeed, that not\nonly the Nonjurors, but even some others of the Church of _England_,\nare shy of calling it Rebellion; yet \u2019tis so in the Eye of the Law,\nand in the Opinion of all those Powers in _Europe_, who have own\u2019d\nhis Majesty\u2019s Title. Then let the World judg, whether Parson _Paul_\u2019s\nAuthority or theirs, is most to be rely\u2019d on.\n\u2019Tis perfectly ridiculous then to alledg, that the Nonjuring Church\nhas kept it self free from Rebellion and Schism, when they have not\nonly been in a Course of Rebellion ever since the Revolution, but\nseparated from their Brethren, and set up private Conventicles, as\nwell as disown\u2019d the Head of the Church: which certainly makes them\nSchismaticks in the highest sense. Nor is there a Protestant Church in\nthe World at this day, whose Communion they don\u2019t reject. They may talk\nthen of being Catholick as long as they please, but they can be so in\nno other sense than that they are for a Roman Catholick Prince, and\nfor such an Union with the Church of _Rome_, as is betwixt her and the\nChurch of _France_; which Mr. _Lesley_, the Pretender\u2019s Chaplain, and\none of his Bishops, propos\u2019d long ago in his _Pontificate and Regale_.\nMr. _Paul_ seems miserably to have forgot himself, in saying that he\ndy\u2019d a dutiful and faithful Member of the Nonjuring Church, when the\nWorld knows that he continu\u2019d a Member of the Establish\u2019d Church till\nthe Rebellion begun; and it can be prov\u2019d, that he wou\u2019d have been glad\nto have continu\u2019d so, and to have own\u2019d the present Government a very\nlittle before his Death, tho the Speech calls it a Usurpation, could\nthe Promises and Oaths of such a perfidious Wretch been rely\u2019d upon, or\nthought worthy of being accepted.\nThe SPEECH.\n_Having ask\u2019d Forgiveness for my self, I come now to forgive others. I\npardon those, who under the Notion of Friendship persuaded me to plead\nGuilty. I heartily forgive all my most inveterate Enemies, especially\nthe Elector of_ Hannover, _my Lord_ Townshend, _and all others who have\nbeen instrumental in promoting my Death_. Father, forgive them! Lord\nJesus, have mercy upon them, and lay not this Sin to their Charge.\n_REMARKS._\nAfter he has rail\u2019d at the Church and State, he pretends that he has\nask\u2019d Forgiveness for himself, and comes to forgive others; and first,\nthose who under the Notion of Friendship persuaded him to plead guilty.\n\u2019Tis common, we see, for those who are false themselves, to call others\nFalse Brethren; yet \u2019tis evident by the Clemency shew\u2019d to others\nwho pleaded guilty, that those who advis\u2019d him to do so, were his\nbest Friends: but since there were such Aggravations in his Case and\nCharacter, as made him unworthy of the like Favour, his Blood lies on\nhis own Head.\nHis way of forgiving others is very extraordinary, when he calls them\nwith his dying Breath his most inveterate Enemies; and among those,\nhe points out the King, under the Title of Elector of _Hannover_, and\nmy Lord _Townshend_. This smells of so much Rancour, that it is not\nreconcilable with the Spirit of Christianity, and at the same time\nit shews the height of Prevarication with God and Man; since in his\nApplications for Mercy he gave the King his Royal Titles (which he\nnow denies him) and him whom he call\u2019d his King at the Gallows, he\nthought fit to call a Pretender in his Petitions. His pointing at my\nLord _Townshend_ in such a particular manner, is to mark out that Noble\nLord to the Fury of the _Jacobite_ Mobs; a piece of Revenge that is\nabominable in any Man, but execrable in a dying Minister, who knew\nthat my Lord _Townshend_ could not in Faithfulness to the King behave\nhimself any otherwise than he did, or become an Intercessor for a Man\nof so vile a Character, as Mr. _Paul_ appears to have been, to all that\nknow him. But the Spirit of Rage and Malice, by which the Parson was\nacted to the last, will further appear by the following Paragraph, and\nthe Reflections upon it.\nThe SPEECH.\n_The next thing I have to do, Christian Friends, is to exhort you all\nto return to your Duty. Remember that King_ James _the Third is your\nonly Rightful Sovereign, by the Laws of the Land, and the Constitution\nof the Kingdom. And therefore if you would perform the Duty of Justice\nto him, which is due to all Mankind, you are oblig\u2019d in Conscience to\ndo all you can to restore him to his Crown: For it is his Right, and\nno Man in the World besides himself can lawfully claim a Title to it.\nAnd as it is your Duty to serve him, so it is your Interest; for till\nhe is restor\u2019d, the Nation can never be happy. You see what Miseries\nand Calamities have befallen these Kingdoms by the Revolution; and I\nbelieve you are now convinc\u2019d, by woful Experience, that swerving from\nGod\u2019s Laws, and thereby putting your selves out of his Protection,\nis not the way to secure you from those Evils and Misfortunes which\nyou are afraid of in this World. Before the Revolution, you thought\nyour Religion, Liberties, and Properties in Danger; and I pray you\nto consider how you have preserv\u2019d them by Rebelling. Are they not\nten times more precarious than ever? Who can say he is certain of\nhis Life or Estate, when he considers the Proceedings of the present\nAdministration? And as for your Religion, is it not evident that the\nRevolution, instead of keeping out Popery, has let in Atheism? Do not\nHeresies abound every day; and are not the Teachers of false Doctrines\npatroniz\u2019d by the Great Men in the Government? This shews the Kindness\nand Affection they have for the Church. And to give you another\nInstance of their Respect and Reverence for it, you are now going to\nsee a Priest of the Church of_ England _murder\u2019d for doing his Duty.\nFor it is not me they strike at so particularly, but it is thro me that\nthey would wound the Priesthood, bring a Disgrace upon the Gown, and a\nScandal upon my Sacred Function. But they would do well to remember,\nthat he who despises Christ\u2019s Priests, despises Christ; and he who\ndespises him, despises him that sent him._\n_REMARKS._\nAfter profaning the Name of our Saviour, by seeming to pray that\nhe would forgive those who had been instrumental in promoting Mr.\n_Paul_\u2019s Death; the Speech-maker gives himself the lye, by exciting his\nAuditors to a new Rebellion: and the Motives he uses for it are only\na parcel of vulgar Topicks and bold Assertions, suited to the Taste\nof the _Jacobite_ Mob, without one word of Argument to support his\nPropositions; for he knew the Credulity of the High-Church Faction,\nand that if he cou\u2019d prevail upon them to exert themselves for the\nPretender, they wou\u2019d not fail in their usual brutish manner to attempt\na Revenge on those, whom he points out as his own and the Pretender\u2019s\nEnemies.\n\u2019Tis remarkable however, that he does not offer one Law or Text to\njustify the Pretender\u2019s Claim, which he so positively asserts, but goes\non with a pitiful Declamation, to persuade them to a new Rebellion,\nfrom the Topicks of Interest. And he insists upon the Calamities that\nhave befallen these Kingdoms by the Revolution, without giving one\nInstance of those Calamities. We may see the Hand of the Jesuit in this\nway of Reasoning; for crafty and knavish Men always betake themselves\nto Generals. In this he follows the Example of the _Holborn_ Doctor,\nwho did what he cou\u2019d to blacken the Revolution, and the Methods made\nuse of to effect it, by general Slanders, without offering at one\nparticular Instance to justify what he says.\nNothing can more demonstrate the Infatuation of Mr. _Paul_, or those\nwho made his Speech, than his telling the People that before the\nRevolution they thought their Religion, Liberties, and Properties in\ndanger; and that instead of preserving them by Rebellion, they are\nnow become ten times more precarious than ever. Had Satan appear\u2019d in\na visible Form, he cou\u2019d not have utter\u2019d any thing more deceitful\nand false. By this Instance \u2019tis plain, that the great Accuser of the\nBrethren triumphs in the Weakness, as well as the Wickedness of those\nhe has deluded: For even the late Archbishop _Sancroft_, and other\nPatrons of the Nonjurant Party, give Mr. _Paul_ the lye, as to the\nfirst part of his Proposition, and common Sense falsifies the latter.\nTo prove this, we need only to observe, that _Sancroft_ and the rest\nof the Bishops, who refus\u2019d to read K. _James_ II\u2019s Declaration for\nLiberty of Conscience, alledg\u2019d that it was an Invasion upon our Civil\nand Religious Liberties. And because they set forth this in their\nPetition to that Prince, they were committed to the _Tower_, and\nbrought to a Tryal as traitorous Criminals: but to their good fortune,\nthe Law, which they had formerly too much run down, prevail\u2019d against\nthat Arbitrary Power of the Prince, which they had so long preach\u2019d\nup; and the Arguments which were made use of by the late Lord Chief\nJustice _Pollexfen_, Lord _Sommers_, and other Whigs, in behalf of the\nConstitution, prevail\u2019d so far, that they were honourably acquitted.\nUpon which, Dr. _Sancroft_ and his Brethren did so much resent these\nTyrannical Proceedings of King _James_ II. that they concur\u2019d with\nothers in the Happy Revolution: and Archbishop _Sancroft_ himself, tho\nafterwards the Head of the Nonjuring Party, did take the Keys of the\n_Tower_ from _Skelton_, K. _James_\u2019s Lieutenant, and join\u2019d, with other\nBishops afterwards Nonjurors, in a Declaration for applying to the\nPrince of _Orange_, on the 11th of _December_ 1688, after King _James_\nhad run away, to obtain a Parliament for securing our Laws, Liberties,\nProperties, and the Church of _England_ in particular.\nThis is enough to shew, that the Heads of the Nonjurant Party were then\nconvinc\u2019d that our Religion, Liberties, and Properties were in Danger;\nwhich sufficiently confutes Mr. _Paul_\u2019s Insinuation, that they were\nnot.\nAnd as to the other part of his bold Assertion, that they are ten times\nmore precarious now than ever, common Sense and Experience give him the\nLye; for Thanks to God, we have now a Protestant, whereas we then had a\nPopish King on the Throne: and Malice itself can\u2019t say, that profess\u2019d\nPapists are contrary to Law made Members of the Privy Council,\nCommanders in the Army, and obtruded upon our Universities, instead of\nProtestants illegally turn\u2019d out, as was the Case in those days.\nBesides, by the Revolution, which Mr. _Paul_ thinks fit to call a\nRebellion, we have obtain\u2019d an irrevocable Law, that none who has been\na Papist, is a Papist, or marries a Papist, shall from henceforth sit\non our Throne; but that they shall always be of the Communion of the\nChurch of _England_, as by Law establish\u2019d. This is such a Security\nfor our Religion, as _England_ never had before. And as to our Civil\nRights, Liberties, and Properties, we have, by the Declaration of\nRights, enacted into a Law, such a Security, as our Ancestors never\nenjoy\u2019d a better, nor can any Nation in _Europe_ shew the like. With\nwhat face then could this dying Traitor say, that our Religion,\nLiberties, and Properties are ten times more precarious than ever?\nCertainly a Man who could thus appear before the Tribunal of Heaven,\nwith such a Lye in his Mouth, must have been judicially harden\u2019d, and\ngiven up to a reprobate Sense.\nAs to his Question, Who can say he is certain of his Life or Estate,\nwhen he considers the Proceedings of the present Administration;\nit is brimful of the greatest Malice and Falshood, and utter\u2019d on\npurpose to expose the Ministry to the Rage of the Jacobite Mobs; which\nshews us how sincere Mr. _Paul_ was in his Professions to forgive\nhis Enemies. But it is our Happiness that none of the Party can say,\nthat the present Ministry pack Juries, or suborn Evidence, to swear\nMen out of their Lives and Estates, as the Tories always did when\nthey sat at the Helm. Nor can Malice charge the present Ministry with\nbringing _Quo Warranto_\u2019s, to deprive Corporations of their Charters,\non pretence of having forfeited them by Tumults; as was practis\u2019d in\nthe Reigns of King _Charles_ and King _James_ II. notwithstanding the\njust occasion which the Faction has given for doing it every where, by\nsuch groundless and barbarous Tumults and Rebellions, as were never\nheard of in _England_ before. As to the Security of our Lives and\nEstates, the Rebels themselves, who have been brought to Tryal, can\nbear Witness, that they have had the Benefit of the 7th of _William_\nIII. which is more favourable and indulgent to Traitors, than the Laws\nof _England_ before the Revolution; for by this Act they are allow\u2019d a\nCopy of their Indictment five days, and a Copy of the Pannel two days\nbefore Trial, to make their Defence by Counsel, and Proof by Witnesses\nupon Oath. And the Court is oblig\u2019d, on the Request of the Prisoners,\nto assign them Counsel, who are to have free Access to them; besides\nwhich, none can be try\u2019d according to that Act, but on the Oath of two\nlawful Witnesses, either both to the same Overt-Act, or one to one\nOvert-Act, and the other to the other: which are all such Privileges as\n_Englishmen_ never enjoy\u2019d before the Revolution.\nSince all this is evident by our Statute-Books, and by Matter of\nFact, it plainly shews the Ignorance and Malice of Mr. _Paul_ and his\nSpeech-makers.\nAs to his other Insinuation, that the Revolution, instead of keeping\nout Popery, has let in Atheism, nothing but unparallel\u2019d Impudence\ncould have utter\u2019d it. The late Bishop of _Sarum_ did justly observe\nat _Sacheverel_\u2019s Trial, that nothing had so much contributed to the\nGrowth of Atheism in the Nation, as the Clergy\u2019s playing fast and loose\nwith Oaths: and as this was the avow\u2019d Practice of Mr. _Paul_ and his\nParty, to take Oaths to the Government, on purpose to undermine it,\nand to abjure the Pretender, while at the same time they carry\u2019d on\nhis Interests; the Growth and Patronage of Atheism; is justly ascrib\u2019d\nto his own Faction. There can be no stronger proof of this, than their\nBreach of solemn Leagues and Oaths, and making the late Queen _Anne_\nso notoriously contradict her self from the Throne. Besides, does not\nall the World know, that her Tory Ministry, and particularly two of her\nSecretaries of State, were guilty of the most avow\u2019d Perjury? Were not\nthe Generals of the Rebels, as well as he who betray\u2019d the Confederate\nArmies to _France_, guilty of wilful Perjury? And were not many of the\nHigh-Church Members of the House of Commons, and the High-Church Clergy\nguilty of the like? Can any thing be a greater Proof of Atheism than\nwilful Perjury? Does it not deny the very Being, and all the Attributes\nof God Almighty? With what face then could this dying Traitor charge\nothers with Atheism, of which he and his Party are so demonstrably\nguilty?\nHe seems to make a Distinction betwixt Atheism and Popery, and to give\nthe latter the Preference, which is another Proof of his Ignorance and\nMalice; for every Man who has read the Casuistical Divinity of the\nJesuits, which is the very Soul and Support of Popery, must needs know,\nthat the whole Scheme of that Divinity is Atheistical: and therefore\nit has a long time been the Opinion of some of the ablest Protestant\nDivines, that it is next to impossible for a Man of Learning and\nKnowledg of the World to be a Papist, and not be an Atheist at the same\ntime.\nFor Mr. _Paul_\u2019s other Insinuation, that Heresies abound every day,\nand that the Teachers of false Doctrines are patroniz\u2019d by the Great\nMen now in the Government, he ought to have given some well-known\nInstances to support his Assertion; but his Business was to slander:\nso that this needs no other Answer, than that it ill becomes those who\npreach and maintain the abominable Doctrines of Popery and Slavery,\nHeresies destructive to the Bodies and Souls of Men, to charge the\nMinistry with patronizing the Teachers of false Doctrines, merely\nbecause they won\u2019t break thro Law to gratify the persecuting Humour of\nHigh-Church, against Men who differ from their Brethren in some Matters\nof Speculation, or mere Circumstantials of Religion.\nBut the true Cause of all this Malice is, that Mr. _Paul_ was now for\nhis Rebellion brought to the Gallows, which he calls the Murder of a\nPriest of the Church of _England_ for doing his Duty. We have heard\nbefore, that the Practice for which he was condemn\u2019d to be hang\u2019d,\nis directly contrary to the Doctrine of the Liturgy of the Church of\n_England_; so that \u2019tis ridiculous as well as hateful for him to call\na due Course of Law Murder. _Faux_ and _Garnet_, when they were hang\u2019d\nfor the Gunpowder-Plot, and those who suffer\u2019d in King _William_\u2019s time\nfor the Assassination, went out of the World with the like Reflections\nupon the Government; so that these being only Words of course from\nRebels at the Gallows, they deserve no further regard.\nNothing can be more villanous and profane than the last part of this\nParagraph, where he falsly asserts, that the Priesthood was struck\nat thro him, _&c._ How he could reckon himself a Priest, since he\nwas ordain\u2019d by a Schismatical Bishop in 1709, I can\u2019t tell; but be\nthat how it will, \u2019tis never reckon\u2019d a Disgrace to the Clergy in a\nProtestant Country, when any of that Order are justly executed for\ncapital Crimes: nor was it reckon\u2019d so even among his Brethren the\nPapists in _Spain_ and _Catalonia_, where Priests were hang\u2019d for\nRebellion on both sides by the Houses of _Bourbon_ and _Austria_,\naccording as either prevail\u2019d; but more especially by King _Philip_,\nsince Mr. _Paul_\u2019s Friends, the late Tory Ministry, betray\u2019d the\n_Catalans_: and I suppose that no body will doubt that those two Royal\nFamilies have as great a Respect for the Order of the Priesthood, as\nour High Churchmen. It is true indeed, that the Pope, the Great High\nPriest, has always claim\u2019d the sole Power of animadverting upon the\nClergy, as his own proper Sons; but one of the most Christian Kings,\nwho took a Bishop in Rebellion, with a Coat of Mail upon him, knew very\nwell how to distinguish betwixt the Priest and the Rebel; and when the\nPope demanded the Bishop to be set at liberty as one of his Sons, the\n_French_ King sent his Holiness the Bishop\u2019s Armour, and bid him see\nwhether that was his Son\u2019s Coat or no; making use of the vulgar _Latin_\nTranslation in the Case of _Joseph_\u2019s Coat that was sent to his Father,\n_Vide an h\u00e6c sit tunica filii tui?_ Had Parson _Paul_ gone to the\nGallows with the Lay-Habit in which he rebell\u2019d in _Lancashire_, and\nwas taken up in _London_, it might have sav\u2019d the Honour of the Gown,\nbut it would have been no Argument for the Honesty of the Priest.\nThe Conclusion of this Paragraph is so very profane and blasphemous,\nthat it can\u2019t be repeated without Horror. The Text here, misapply\u2019d\nby Mr. _Paul_, was spoke with relation to our Saviour\u2019s Apostles, so\nthat the Missionaries of Popery and Slavery have nothing to do with it.\nOur Saviour is represented by St. _John_ the Divine, to walk in the\nmidst of the seven Golden Candlesticks; but those of Brass, like Parson\n_Paul_, who rebel against Christianity, in behalf of Antichristian\nIdolatry, have their Mission from the Pope and the Devil: so that a Man\ncannot be a good Christian, without despising them and him that sent\nthem.\nThe SPEECH.\n_And now, Beloved, if you have any Regard to your Country, which lies\nbleeding under these dreadful Extremities, bring the King to his just\nand undoubted Right. That is the only Way to be freed from these\nMisfortunes, and to secure all those Rights and Privileges which are\nin Danger at present. King_ James _has promis\u2019d to protect and defend\nthe Church of_ England; _He has given his Royal Word to consent to such\nLaws, which you your selves shall think necessary to be made for its\nPreservation. And his Majesty is a Prince of that Justice, Vertue and\nHonour, that you have no manner of Reason to doubt the Performance of\nhis Royal Promise. He studies nothing so much as how to make you all\nEasy and Happy; and whenever he comes to his Kingdom, I doubt not but\nyou will be so._\n_REMARKS._\nThis Paragraph continues Parson _Paul_\u2019s rebellious Declamation, which\nis very well adapted to the Cause he dy\u2019d for. \u2019Tis the Encomium of\na false Prophet upon a spurious and counterfeit Prince, who stands\nattainted by our Laws as an Impostor. But were it otherwise, the Parson\ndies with a Lye in his right hand as to the Character of his pretended\nKing: for the World knows, that instead of giving that Security which\nthe Parson promises in his Name for the Church of _England_, he would\nnot so much as take an Oath for supporting the Traitor\u2019s dear Brethren,\nthe Nonjuring Episcopal Party in _Scotland_; in which perhaps he was\nright, since a _Nonjuring Church_ ought to have a _Nonjuring King_.\nNay, he would not so much as countenance the Church-of-_England_\nLiturgy with his Presence, because he lik\u2019d the _Mass_ in _Latin_\nbetter. In short, there wanted nothing to make this Paragraph a\ncompleat intelligible Lye, but that the Parson, to the Qualities of\nJustice, Vertue and Honour, which he ascribes to his King, should have\nadded _Valour_; a Quality as applicable to a finish\u2019d Coward, as those\nof Vertue, Honour, and Justice are to one bred up in the Idolatry\nof _Rome_, and the Tyrannical Maxims of _France_: and that this is\nthe Pretender\u2019s Character, we can prove by Queen _Anne_\u2019s Speech to\nParliament in 1708.\nThe SPEECH.\n_I shall be heartily glad, good People, if what I have said has any\neffect upon you, so as to be instrumental in making you perform your\nDuty. It is out of my power now to do any thing more to serve the King,\nthan by employing some of the few Minutes I have to live in this World,\nin praying to Almighty God to shower down his Blessings Spiritual\nand Temporal upon his Head, to protect him and restore him, to be\nfavourable to his Undertaking, to prosper him here, and to reward him\nhereafter. I beseech the same Infinite Goodness to preserve and defend\nthe Church of_ England, _and to restore it to all its just Rights\nand Privileges: and lastly, I pray God have mercy upon me, pardon my\nSins, and receive my Soul into his everlasting Kingdom; that with the\nPatriarchs, Prophets, Apostles and Martyrs, I may praise and magnify\nhim for ever and ever._ Amen.\n_REMARKS._\nHad not the High-Church Faction been bred up in as much Ignorance by\ntheir Priests, as those of _Rome_, the Parson could never have hop\u2019d\nthat his pitiful Rhapsody would be any way instrumental to make them\nperform what he calls their Duty; which in plain _English_ (as the\nAct to oblige Papists to register their Persons and Estates, well\nexpresses it) is \u2018to dethrone and murder his Sacred Majesty, to destroy\nour present happy Establishment, to settle a Popish Pretender on the\nThrone, to destroy the Protestant Religion, and cruelly to murder\nand massacre its Professors.\u2019 None but such barbarous Priests as Mr.\n_Paul_ could exhort them to do this, and none but such ignorant Bigots\ncould swallow the Suggestions of Hell as Christian Doctrine: and since\nthis is the way in which the High Church Party, when brought to the\nGallows, pretend to forgive their Enemies, we may easily guess at their\nClemency, had Heaven, for our Sins, have suffer\u2019d their Arms to prevail.\nThe Prayers of the Parson\u2019s last Minutes for the Pretender, are\nanswerable to Mr. _Paul_\u2019s Behaviour during the Course of his Life. It\nwould seem however, that he had forgot the Order of the Toasts, which\nwas follow\u2019d by his Brethren in the last Reign, to put the Church\nbefore the Queen; for here he has put his King before his Church. But\nhis Prayers are like to be equally effectual in both respects; for\nGod will not hear the Petitions of those who regard Iniquity in their\nHearts, as \u2019tis plain this Parson did.\nHe should however have told us what those Just Rights and Privileges\nare, to which he prays the Church of _England_ might be restor\u2019d,\nor he could not expect our _Amen_. \u2019Tis certain she enjoys as many\nPrivileges now, and is as well secur\u2019d in them, as she has been at any\ntime since the Reformation. But if he meant that she should be restor\u2019d\nto all the Church-Lands, which were enjoy\u2019d by the Secular and Regular\nClergy in time of Popery; that the Clergy should be Independent on the\nState, as they pretended to be then, but could never obtain it; that\nthe High-Church Writ, _de H\u00e6retico Comburendo_, should be reviv\u2019d;\nthat some of the Inferior Clergy should sit in the House of Commons,\ninstead of the Popish Priors; that others should sit in the House of\nLords, instead of the Mitred Abbots; or, in a word, that it should be\nin the power of the High-Church Clergy to King and Unking, to Christen\nand Unchristen whom they pleas\u2019d. If these are the Privileges and\nLiberties he wants to have restor\u2019d, his Prayers will never be granted\nby God, because they are contrary to his reveal\u2019d Will, nor listen\u2019d to\nby _Englishmen_, till they put off human Nature, and degenerate into\nBrutes.\nThe Clergyman at last comes to take some Care of his own Soul, and\nprays that his Sins may be pardon\u2019d, and that he may be receiv\u2019d into\nthe Everlasting Kingdom, among Patriarchs, Prophets, Apostles, and\nMartyrs: but \u2019tis observable, that in his whole Speech he does not pray\nfor any one thing thro the Merits of Christ; which shew\u2019d how little\nhe understood the Gospel that he pretended to preach, and gives us too\njust Ground to conclude, that as he did not live like a Christian, he\ndid not die one.\nThe SPEECH.\n_As to my Body, Brethren, I have taken no manner of Care of it: for I\nvalue not the barbarous Part of the Sentence, of being cut down and\nquartered. When I am once gone, I shall be out of the reach of my\nEnemies; and I wish I had Quarters enough to send to every Parish in\nthe Kingdom, to testify that a Clergyman of the Church of_ England _was\nmartyr\u2019d for being Loyal to his King_.\n_REMARKS._\nHere he tells us he had taken no manner of Care of his Body, and it is\nplain, by his Speech, he took as little of his Soul, since he dy\u2019d with\nMalice in his Heart, and a Lye in his Mouth; as appears plain, if we\ncompare his Speech with the following Letters, which he wrote to the\nArchbishop of _Canterbury_, and the Lord _Townshend_.\nThe Conclusion of this Paragraph is so very extravagant and\nhypocritical, considering the Submissions which he made to the present\nMinistry, that it cannot but strike the Reader with Horror, to think\nthat one who valu\u2019d himself upon his Sacred Function, should dare\nthus to prevaricate in sight of God\u2019s Tribunal; before which he was so\nquickly to appear.\nSince Mr. _Paul_ regrets, that he had not Quarters enough for every\nParish in the Kingdom, to testify that a Clergyman of the Church of\n_England_ (he means his Nonjuring Church) was martyr\u2019d for being\nLoyal to his King; I shall add no more but a hearty Wish, that his\nIncorrigible Brethren in Rebellion or Perjury, be they Clergy or\nLaymen, may fall by the hands of Justice to supply that Defect.\nThe two following Letters were written by Mr. _William Paul_ on the 9th\nof July, to His Grace the Lord Archbishop of _Canterbury_.\n    _May it please your Grace_,\n        \u2018Att my Tryall I thought I had a very good Plea, but was\n        advis\u2019d by the Lawers, as the suerest way to obtain Mercy,\n        to plead guilty, upon which I threw my self wholly upon\n        the King\u2019s Mercy. What Confession the Court would have\n        from me, I can\u2019t tell; I am sure your Grace would not\n        have me for the World spake more than I know. I declare\n        before Almighty God, upon the Word of a Clergyman, I never\n        brought any Letter out of _Preston_, or went to any one\n        Gentleman, or spoke the least thing that tended that Way,\n        _viz._ to Rebellion, but came into my own Country, as fast\n        as I could, and so to _London_, where I was seizd and sent\n        to _Newgate_. I humbly desire your Grace once more to\n        believe me, and to use your utmost Endeavours to save a\n        poor Clergyman\u2019s Life: If it will not be granted to spend\n        the Remainder of it in _England_, I beg you\u2019ll be pleesd\n        to send me to the Plantations, or any where rather then\n        _Tyburn_. I humbly desire your Grace to consider your poor\n        afflicted Servant, and take him from this nasty Prison.\n    \u2018My Lord,\n    \u2018I am your Lordship\u2019s most Humble,\n    \u2018and most Obedient Servant,\n    _William Paul_.\n        \u2018My Lord, I never did, since I was in _Newgate_, pray for\n        the Pretender by any Name or Title.\u2019\n    _My Lord_,\n        \u2018I beg pardon for troubling your Grace, but presuming upon\n        your Goodness once again, humbly desire you to interceed\n        with his Royal Higness for Mercy. The dead Warrant is come\n        down for Exicution Friday next: What ill Steps I have made\n        in my Life past, I hope Almighty God will forgive me; but\n        the things that are laid to my charge, _viz._ preaching\n        up Rebellion, advising my Parishioners to take up Arms,\n        and that I preachd severall seditious Sermons, all which\n        are faulse upon the Word of a Clergyman, as I have a\n        Cirtificate to prove, for six Years, the time of my being\n        att _Orton_, handed by most of the Parish. Another thing\n        is objected against me, that I was concern\u2019d in sevral\n        Consultations, but I am inocent and ignorant, I cal God\n        to witness, of any Design that was formd in any Part of\n        the Kingdome against the Government; and if ever I knew of\n        any Meeting, but where I was unfortunatly at _Preston_, or\n        Consultation, or ever ask\u2019d or advis\u2019d any Body to rise in\n        Rebellion, I am willing to suffer.\n        \u2018I desire your Grace will endeavour to save me this time\n        from that ignominious Death of the Halter, and despose of\n        me in what Part your Lordship pleaseth. If nothing can be\n        done, I humbly desire your Lordship\u2019s Blessing and Prayers\n        for Patience and Courage in this severe time of Tryall. For\n        God sake, my Lord, do what lyes in your power to save the\n        Life of a poor afflicted Clergyman, the remaining Part of\n        which shall be spent in Prayers for your Grace, and all\n        that endeavour\u2019d to bring me out of these great Troubles.\n    \u2018My Lord,\n    \u2018I am your Lordship\u2019s most Humble\n    \u2018And most Obedient Servant,\n    _William Paul_.\n    _Newgate_,\n    9th _July_.\nThe following Letter was written by _William Paul_, the Night before\nhis Execution, to the Right Honourable the Lord Viscount _Townshend_.\u2019\n    _My Lord_,\n        \u2018Mr. _Patten_ was so kind to pay me a Visit in my\n        Affliction, and desired me if I knew any thing relating to\n        the Government, I would declare it. My Lord, I solemnly\n        declare, I call Almighty God to witness, I carried no\n        Letter of from _Preston_, tho I told Mr. _Patten_ so, which\n        was only a Faint that I might go of; and if Mr. _Patten_\n        will do me justice, he can tell your Lordship how uneasy\n        I was when I discoverd my Rashness. My Lord, I depend\n        soely upon your Lordship\u2019s Goodness in this my miserable\n        Condition. I wish my Lord, I could have my Life saved, that\n        I might shew to the World how heartily I am sorry for all\n        my past Errours; and no Man shall demonstrate it more, then\n    \u2018My Lord,\n    \u2018Your Lordship\u2019s most Humble,\n    \u2018And most Obedient Servant,\n    _William Paul_.\n        \u2018My Lord, Mr. _Patten_ sayth it is an Aggravation to my\n        Crime, that I pray\u2019d in expres Terms in _Newgate_ for the\n        Pretender by the Name of K. _James_, I declare I never\n        did. I once more crave your Lordship\u2019s kind Assistance to\n        procure me my Life.\u2019\nREMARKS _on the Speech of_ John Hall, _Esq_;\nThe last Sentiments of these two Traitors are so much alike, and there\nis such a Harmony betwixt them in Matter, that the Reflections on the\nformer exhaust all that is material in the latter; so that I shall only\ntake notice of what is peculiar in Mr. _Hall_\u2019s, or that is applicable\nto his particular Case.\nThe SPEECH.\n_Friends, Brethren, and Countrymen; I am come here to die for the sake\nof God, my King, and my Country; and I heartily rejoice that I am\ncounted worthy of so great an Honour: for let not any of you think that\nI am come to a shameful and ignominious End. The Truth and Justice of\nthe Cause, for which I suffer, makes my Death a Duty, a Vertue, and an\nHonour. Remember that I laid down my Life for asserting the Right of\nmy only Lawful Sovereign, King_ James _the Third; That I offer my self\nas a Victim for the Liberties and Happiness of my dear Country, and my\nbeloved Fellow-Subjects; That I fall a Sacrifice to Tyranny, Oppression\nand Usurpation. In short, consider that I suffer in defence of the\nCommands of God, and the Laws and Hereditary Constitution of the Land:\nand then know and be assur\u2019d that I am not a Traitor, but a Martyr._\n_REMARKS._\nThis unfortunate Gentleman sets out with a vile hypocritical\nRhodomontade: he asserts, that he came to die for the sake of God, his\nKing, and his Country; but \u2019tis certain, that had his Applications to\nthe present Government for a Pardon succeeded, he must, according to\nthis Principle, have liv\u2019d in such a manner as was quite opposite to\nwhat he pretended to die for: which is so horrid, that I may well be\nexcus\u2019d from saying any thing further about it, since the Antithesis\nmust be obvious to every Reader.\nHow much he counted it his Honour to die for the Pretender\u2019s Cause, I\nshall not say; but I am well assur\u2019d, that he employ\u2019d all his Friends\nto do their utmost for saving his Life, and obtested them to do it, as\nthey had any regard to the Blessings of himself, his Wife, and five\nChildren. And I am satisfy\u2019d, that the Reverend Mr. _Patten_ will own\nto the World, if it be requir\u2019d, that Mr. _Hall_, in order to save\nhis Life, would have had Mr. _Patten_ declare to the Court, that he\nthe said Mr. _Hall_ was mad; which he thought was as good a Plea for\nan _English_ Squire, as for a _Scotch_ Earl. This makes his End truly\nignominious and shameful, and shews that he had no such Opinion of the\nTruth and Justice of the Cause for which he suffer\u2019d, as to make his\nDeath a Duty, Vertue and Honour, till he found he must come to the\nGallows, and there he sets up for a Hero and a Martyr.\nMr. _Hall_, having acted as a Justice of Peace under the present\nGovernment till the Rebellion broke out, ought to have had some\nknowledg of the Law; and therefore we might have expected some Reasons\nfrom the Statute Book, why he calls the Pretender his only Lawful\nSovereign: but \u2019tis probable he knew, that \u2019twas not to be done,\nand therefore thought it enough to pawn his bare Assertion upon the\nJacobite Mob for _Law_, as his Fellow-Sufferer the Clergyman did his\nfor _Gospel_. \u2019Tis evident, that both their Talents were better adapted\nto Rail, than to Reason; otherwise, the one would have given us a Text,\nand the other a Statute, to prove that they suffer\u2019d in defence of the\nLaws of God and the Land: but since neither of them have done it, and\nthat none of the Party either has been, or will ever be able to do it\nfor them, we have reason to conclude, that they dy\u2019d Traitors, but not\nMartyrs.\nThose who have read the Old and New Testament with Attention, must\ncertainly be satisfy\u2019d, that there is not one Word in either for\na Divine Indefeasible Hereditary Right in any Person or Family to\nGovernment; but on the contrary, that our Saviour, the Prophets, and\nApostles, taught Obedience to such Governments and human Constitutions,\nas were in being at the respective times when they liv\u2019d; and laid\ntheir Followers under no other Restriction, as to their Obedience to\nthe Superior Powers they found in the World, but to obey God rather\nthan Man, when their Commands interfered.\nAs to the Laws of _Great Britain_, our Adversaries will never be able\nto prove any other Hereditary Right than what was deriv\u2019d from those\nLaws; which being alterable, according to the Nature of all human\nConstitutions, succeeding Generations must always, according to the\nLaws of Nature and Reason, have the same power to alter them for their\nown Security, as their Ancestors had to enact them for theirs. If this\nbe not allow\u2019d, this Absurdity must naturally follow, that had any\npreceding King and Parliament made an Act that all their Successors\nshou\u2019d be Pagans, Papists, Turks, or Slaves, we had been left without a\nRemedy.\nThe SPEECH.\n_I declare that I die a true and sincere Member of the Church of_\nEngland; _but not of the Revolution Schismatical Church, whose Bishops\nhave so rebelliously abandon\u2019d the King, and so shamefully given up\nthe Rights of the Church, by submitting to the Unlawful, Invalid,\nLay-Deprivations of the Prince of_ Orange. _The Communion I die in,\nis that of the True Catholick Nonjuring Church of_ England; _and I\npray God to prosper and increase it, and to grant, if it be his good\npleasure, that it may rise again and flourish._\n_REMARKS._\nThis is so much of a piece with what Parson _Paul_ said in his Speech,\nthat I need say little more upon it: only Mr. _Hall_ says, that the\nRights of the Church were given up by the Submission of the Bishops\nand Clergy to the Unlawful Invalid Lay-Deprivations of the Prince of\n_Orange_.\nThe Church of _England_ used formerly, when charg\u2019d with being\n_Erastian_ in her Constitution, to alledg that it cou\u2019d not be\nso, since the Sovereign of _England_ was _mixta Persona_, and by\nconsequence a Clergyman as well as Layman. But tho the High-Church has\nthrown up that Argument, \u2019tis plain from the Statutes quoted in answer\nto Mr. _Paul_, that by the Laws of _England_ our Sovereign is made Head\nof the Church; and from him the Bishops and Clergy of _England_ do\nimmediately derive all their Ecclesiastical Power and Authority. And\nsince it was the Parliament of _England_ which invested our Princes\nwith the Power of conferring that Authority, King _William_ was as\nlawfully possess\u2019d of it as any of his Predecessors.\nBut farther, since all the Episcopal Power which the Bishops of\n_England_ can pretend to, is deriv\u2019d from Laymen (if the King\nand Parliament must be call\u2019d so) it follows in Reason, that a\nLay-Deprivation is sufficient to make void a Lay-Institution, if the\nDeprivation be founded on a just Cause, as disowning the Government\ncertainly is. Besides, it ought to be consider\u2019d, that the Bishops\nwho sit in Parliament are Clergymen; and since they consented to the\nDeprivation, it can\u2019t in Justice be wholly call\u2019d a Lay one, unless\nthey had protested against it in Convocation, where they sit as\nClergymen: and that they did not so protest, is evident to all the\nWorld.\n\u2019Tis observable, that Mr. _Hall_ adds Catholick to Mr. _Paul_\u2019s Epithet\nof the Nonjuring Church of _England_; so that at last the Justice and\nthe Clergyman wou\u2019d bring us to the Church of _Rome_, which is the only\nChurch pretending to be Catholick, that the Nonjuring Church agrees\nwith.\nThe SPEECH.\n_I heartily beg Pardon of all whom I have in any manner, and at any\ntime injur\u2019d or offended. I do particularly implore Forgiveness of God\nand my King, for having so far swerv\u2019d from my Duty, as to comply with\nthe Usurpation, in swearing Allegiance to it, and acting in publick\nPosts by the Usurper\u2019s Commissions, which were void of all Power and\nAuthority. God knows my Heart, I did this at first thro Ignorance and\nError; but after I had recollected my self, and inform\u2019d my Judgment\nbetter, I repented, and drew my Sword for the King, and now submit\nmy self to this violent Death for his sake. I heartily pray God, my\nPenitence and my Sufferings may atone for my former Crime. And this I\nbeg thro the Merits, Mediation, and Sufferings of my dearest Saviour,\nChrist Jesus._\n_REMARKS._\nBy this Paragraph we may see whether Mr. _Hall_ was a sincere Member\nof the Nonjuring Church or not. He owns, that he had sworn Allegiance\nto what he calls the Usurpation, and acted in publick Posts by\nCommission from it. This is a plain Proof that he was an _Abjuror_\ninstead of a _Nonjuror_, until the Rebellion broke out; and then to\nmake himself a sincere Nonjuror, he became a _Perjuror_; and contrary\nto his Allegiance, which he had sworn from time to time while a Justice\nof Peace, he drew his Sword against the King from whom he held his\nCommission.\nHe pretends to excuse himself, by saying that his Submission to the\nRevolution Government proceeded at first from Ignorance and Error; but\nafter he had recollected himself, and inform\u2019d his Judgment better,\nhe repented, and drew his Sword for the King, meaning the Pretender.\n\u2019Tis worth while to observe, how much time Mr. _Hall_ took to recollect\nand inform himself better. It certainly was not much, for at the very\ntime when the Rebellion began, he was sitting with other Justices\nin Commission, at the Quarter-Sessions in _Northumberland_; and he\npretended at his Tryal, that he was taken Prisoner by the Rebels in\nhis Return from the Quarter-Sessions. By this we may easily know what\nto think of his _Recollection_ and _better Information_. I shall say\nno more to this Paragraph, but that Mr. _Hall_ seems to have dy\u2019d\nas bad a Protestant as a Subject, since he joins his own Repentance\nand Sufferings to the Merits and Sufferings of our Saviour, as the\nFoundation of his Hopes for Mercy: which, with what has been observ\u2019d\nalready in Mr. _Paul_\u2019s Speech, may serve to convince the World what\nsort of Protestants our High-Church-Men are.\nThe SPEECH.\n_I do sincerely forgive all my Enemies, especially those who have\neither caus\u2019d or increas\u2019d the Destructions in Church or State. I\npray God have mercy upon them, and spare them, because they are the\nWork of his own Hands, and because they are redeem\u2019d with his Son\u2019s\nmost precious Blood. I do particularly forgive, from the bottom of my\nHeart, the Elector of_ Brunswick, _who murders me; my unjust pretended\nJudges and Jury, who convicted, and condemn\u2019d me; Mr._ Patten _and Mr._\nCarnaby, _Evidences who swore against me at my Trial. And I do here\ndeclare, upon the Words of a dying Man (and all my_ Northumberland\n_Fellow Prisoners can testify the same) that the Evidence they gave\nwas so far from being the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the\nTruth, that in relation to my Indictment they swore not one true thing\nagainst me, but many absolute Falshoods. I pray God forgive them, for I\nam sure I do._\n_REMARKS._\nHis way of forgiving his Enemies is much the same with Parson _Paul_\u2019s.\nHere his Folly and Malice are equally conspicuous; for in this\nParagraph he charges the Evidence against him with swearing falsly;\nwhereas in that immediately preceding, he owns the Truth of what is\nsworn in the main, by confessing that he drew his Sword for King\n_James_, which is a sufficient Vindication of the Evidence.\nThe SPEECH.\n_Lastly, I forgive all who had any hand in the Surrender at_ Preston;\n_for they have surrender\u2019d away my Life: and I would to God that were\nthe only bad Consequence of it. But alas, it is too plain, that the\nSurrenderers not only ruin\u2019d many of his Majesty\u2019s brave and faithful\nSubjects but gave up their King and Country into the Bargain. For it\nwas then in their power to have restor\u2019d the King with Triumph to his\nThrone; and thereby to have made us a happy People. We had repuls\u2019d\nour Enemies at every Attack, and were ready, willing, and able to have\nattack\u2019d them. On our side even our common Men were brave, courageous\nand resolute; on the other hand, theirs were directly the contrary:\ninsomuch that after they had run away from our first Fire, they could\nnever be brought so much as to endeavour to stand a second. This I\nthink my self oblig\u2019d in Justice to mention, that Mr._ Wills _may not\nimpose upon the World, as if he and his Troops had conquer\u2019d us, and\ngain\u2019d the Victory: for the truth is, after we had conquer\u2019d them, our\nSuperiours thought fit to capitulate, and ruin us. I wish them God\u2019s\nand the King\u2019s Pardon for it._\n_REMARKS._\nThis Paragraph is such a fulsom and flagrant Lye, that it would seem\nthe Devil ow\u2019d him a shame. To publish an Untruth of this nature,\nin view of the Bar of Heaven, proves the poor Man, or at least his\nSpeech-makers, to have been more than case-harden\u2019d. What the Design\nof the Faction could be, in handing such a Story as this to the World,\nwhich can be contradicted by Thousands of Eye-Witnesses, and by Mr.\n_Hall_\u2019s Fellow-Rebels as well as by the King\u2019s Troops, is not easy to\nbe imagin\u2019d; unless it be to spirit up the Faction to a new Rebellion,\nby telling them, that their Friends were Conquerors, but unhappily\nbetray\u2019d into a Surrender by their Leaders. Had this been true, what\nFools must their Generals _Forster_ and _Mackintosh_ be to fly from a\nGovernment, where they had so much Merit to plead, to another which\nwill certainly hang them, if Mr. _Hall_\u2019s Accusation obtain Belief?\nOne would be tempted to think, that when Mr. _Hall_ read or sign\u2019d\nthis Speech, he did not expect to have been hang\u2019d, but to have been\nrescu\u2019d by the Jacobite Mob, and to have set himself at their Head as\nGeneral; a Post which (if he says true) he certainly deserv\u2019d much\nbetter than Lord _Derwentwater_, Lord _Kenmure_, or Messieurs _Forster_\nand _Mackintosh_. But be that how it will, if the Rebels make another\nAttempt, \u2019tis probable this scandalous Reflection may put our Generals\nand Soldiers upon another Method of managing the War, than to content\nthemselves with the Surrender of the Jacobites at Discretion: and of\nwhat Service Mr. _Hall_\u2019s Speech may be to his Party in this Case, they\nthemselves are left to judg.\nThe SPEECH.\n_May it please the Almighty to bless, preserve, and restore our only\nRightful and Lawful Sovereign, King_ James _the Third! May he direct\nhis Councils, and prosper his Arms! May he bring him to his Kingdom,\nand set the Crown upon his Head! May he protect him from the Malice of\nhis Enemies, and defend him from those who for a Reward would slay him\ninnocent! May he grant him in Health and Wealth long to live! May he\nstrengthen him, that he may vanquish and overcome all his Enemies! And\nfinally, when it pleases his infinite Wisdom to take him out of this\nWorld, may he take him to himself, and reward him with an everlasting\nCrown of Glory in the next!_\n_REMARKS._\nAll that I shall say to this Paragraph, is, that the Prayers of the\nWorshipful Justice, and the Reverend Parson, are much of the same\nStrain, and, no doubt, they\u2019ll meet with the like Answer. Indeed the\nJustice appears to have been the better Churchman of the two, for he\nprays for the Church in his second Paragraph, and puts off his Prayers\nfor the King almost till the last; and the Parson shews himself to have\nbeen a better Lawyer than the Justice, because he prays for his King\nfirst, as the Head of his Church.\nThe SPEECH.\n_These, my beloved Countrymen, are the sincere Prayers, these the last\nWords of me, who am now a dying Person. And if you have any regard\nto the last Breath of one who is just going out of the World, let me\nbeg of you to be dutiful, obedient, and loyal to your only Sovereign\nLiege Lord, King_ James _the Third: be ever ready to serve him, and\nbe sure you never fail to use all your Endeavours to restore him; and\nwhatever the Consequence be, remember that you have a good Cause, and\na gracious God, and expect your Recompence from him._\n_To that God, the God of Truth and Holiness, the Rewarder of all who\nsuffer for Righteousness sake, I commend my Soul; beseeching him to\nhave mercy upon it, for the sake of my dear Redeemer, and merciful\nSaviour, Jesus Christ, our Lord._ Amen. Amen. Amen.\n_REMARKS._\nThe Justice agrees with the Parson in his Attempts to excite the\nJacobites to a new Rebellion; but the Justice has fallen upon the\nluckier Argument of the two, because, in a former Paragraph, he\nencourages them with the News of a Victory, which it seems the Parson\nknew nothing of, tho present in the Field of Battle, and never saw any\nMarks of Triumph on that account, till he and his Brother Justice came\nto rejoice together for it at the Triple-Tree. The Justice however\ndy\u2019d the best Protestant, because he begs pardon for the sake of his\nRedeemer, and does not seem to rely altogether upon his own Merits, as\nthe Parson did.\nPOSTSCRIPT.\n_I might reasonably have expected my Life would have been saved, since\nI had obtained five Reprieves: but I find that the Duke of_ Hannover,\n_and his Evil Counsellors who guide him, have so little Virtue and\nHonour themselves, that they are resolv\u2019d not to spare my Life,\nbecause I would not purchase it upon base and dishonourable Terms. I\nhave reason to think, that at first I could have secur\u2019d both Life\nand Fortune, if I would have pleaded Guilty; and I doubt not but I\nmight since have obtain\u2019d Favour, if I would have petition\u2019d in a vile\nscandalous manner. But I was resolv\u2019d to do nothing whereby I should\nhave disown\u2019d my King, and deny\u2019d my Principles: and I thank my good\nGod, both for inspiring me with this holy Resolution, and for giving me\nthe Grace to perform it._\n_REMARKS._\nThis is so malicious and silly, that it carries its Antidote along with\nit. He was oblig\u2019d to the Government for five Reprieves, and if we may\nbelieve what he says, \u2019tis entirely owing to himself that he did not\nobtain a Pardon, because he would not petition. \u2019Twas highly reasonable\nthen, that when Mercy wou\u2019d not do, Justice shou\u2019d take place. \u2019Tis\ncertain, that a Petition for Mercy cou\u2019d be nothing so vile, as\nforfeiting his Life by Perjury and Rebellion. But by this we see what\naukard Notions our Jacobites have of what they call Honour.\nI shall conclude the whole with observing, that these two Speeches are\nenough to convince the World, that the Oaths of the High-Church Party\nare not to be trusted while living, nor their Speeches when dead.\n_FINIS._\nTranscriber\u2019s Notes\nObvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations\nin hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other\nspelling and punctuation remains unchanged.\nItalics are represented thus _italic_.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Remarks on the speeches of William Paul, Clerk, and John Hall of\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " Finnish\n", "content": "Produced by Timo Ervasti and Tapio Riikonen\nKAPTEENI SINGLETONIN SEIKKAILUT\nKirj.\nDaniel Defoe\nEnglannista lyhennellen suomentanut\nV. H\u00e4meen-Anttila\nHelsingiss\u00e4,\nSuomalainen Kustannus-O.Y. Kansa,\nSIS\u00c4LLYS:\nAlkusanat.\nENSIM\u00c4INEN LUKU\n  Kapina laivassa.\nTOINEN LUKU\n  Purjehdus Ep\u00e4toivon niemelle.\nKOLMAS LUKU\n  Matka Afrikan mantereelle.\nNELJ\u00c4S LUKU\n  Minusta tulee kapteeni.\nVIIDES LUKU\n  Kultavirralla Sis\u00e4-Afrikassa.\nKUUDES LUKU\n  Rynnistys rannikolle.\nSEITSEM\u00c4S LUKU\n  Merirosvo ja kveekari.\nKAHDEKSAS LUKU\n  Orjalaiva tuuliajolla.\nYHDEKS\u00c4S LUKU\n  Laivasto Afrikan vesill\u00e4.\nKYMMENES LUKU\n  Riistaretki\u00e4 it\u00e4isill\u00e4 vesill\u00e4.\nYHDESTOISTA LUKU\n  Haaksirikko Ceylonin saarella.\nKAHDESTOISTA LUKU\n  K\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6s el\u00e4m\u00e4n uralla.\nAlkusanat.\n_Daniel Defoe_ oli 59-vuotias, kirjottaessaan \"Kapteeni Singletonin\nseikkailut\" v. 1720. H\u00e4n oli silloin toiminut kirjailijana jo\nkolmekymment\u00e4 vuotta, ja juuri edellisen\u00e4 vuonna julkaissut laajan\n\"Robinson Crusoe'nsa\", josta kaikkien kansojen nuoriso tuntee\nlyhennetyn laitoksen. Kes\u00e4kuusta v. 1687 melkein siihen viikkoon asti,\njona h\u00e4n v. 1731 kuoli, tulvasi h\u00e4nen kyn\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n sellainen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\ntapauksia k\u00e4sittelev\u00e4 lentolehtisien liuta, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 t\u00e4ytyy pit\u00e4\u00e4\ntuotteliaimpana kyn\u00e4ilij\u00e4n\u00e4 sill\u00e4 alalla. Mutta t\u00e4st\u00e4 ja monista\nvankityrm\u00e4ss\u00e4 virumistansa vuosista huolimatta h\u00e4n oli ehtym\u00e4t\u00f6n\nromaanikirjailijakin, eik\u00e4 ole suinkaan h\u00e4nen vikansa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen monet\nseikkailukertomuksensa ovat vuosisatojen vieriess\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4neet varjoon\ntuota yht\u00e4 lukuunottamatta, joka on tehnyt h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 ikuiseksi.\nSyyn\u00e4 Defoen muiden kertoelmien unohtumiseen ovat aikakausien muuttuvat\nmieliteot. H\u00e4nen sanomalehtimiesm\u00e4inen koruton tyylins\u00e4 ja selke\u00e4\narkiel\u00e4m\u00e4kuvailunsa ovat saaneet v\u00e4isty\u00e4 vilkkaaksi tehdyn kerronnan ja\nhaaveellisuuden tielt\u00e4. Hienostunut maku ei hyv\u00e4ksynyt h\u00e4nen syvist\u00e4\nriveist\u00e4 otettuja sankareitansa ja n\u00e4iden el\u00e4m\u00e4n kaunistelematonta\nkertomista. Mutta nykyinen aika on taaskin vieh\u00e4ttynyt tuollaiseen\ntodenmukaiseen yksinkertaisuuteen ja havainnut Defoen romaaneissa\nhienoa taiteellisuutta, ytimek\u00e4st\u00e4 aiheen k\u00e4sittely\u00e4 sek\u00e4 ennen kaikkea\ntodellisesti eletty\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4, josta jokainen l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 hyvi\u00e4 opetuksiakin.\nNiinp\u00e4 my\u00f6skin \"Kapteeni Singletonin seikkailut\" kauttaaltaan\ntuntuvat silloisen ajan muistiinpanoista luotettavasti kokoonpannulta\nselostukselta, jonkun maailmanharhailijan suusta kuullulta\nkertoelmalta. Pienimpi\u00e4kin jokap\u00e4iv\u00e4isi\u00e4 yksityisseikkoja my\u00f6ten\nantaa Defoe t\u00e4ss\u00e4 kuvailussaan toden kuvan oman aikansa el\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4,\npiirist\u00e4, joka sittemmin merirosvoel\u00e4m\u00e4n h\u00e4vitty\u00e4 muuttui haaveellisen\nromantiikan kilpakent\u00e4ksi. Ajankuvauksena se on mielenkiintoinen, ja\nlienee suomalaisellekin nuorisolle huvittavaa n\u00e4hd\u00e4, miten 200 vuotta\ntakaperin sek\u00e4 elettiin ett\u00e4 -- nuorisolle kirjotettiin. Defoe on\nmaailmankirjallisuuden ensim\u00e4inen nuorisonkirjailija.\n_Suomentaja_.\nKapteeni Singletonin seikkailut.\nENSIM\u00c4INEN LUKU.\nKapina laivassa.\nJos saan uskoa sit\u00e4 vaimoa, jota minut opetettiin sanomaan \u00e4idikseni,\nniin olin noin kaksivuotias hienosti puettu pojan palleroinen, kun\nhoitajattarekseni hankittu tytt\u00f6 kerran kauniina kes\u00e4isen\u00e4 iltana\nvei minut Islingtonin l\u00e4hell\u00e4 oleville niityille muka heng\u00e4htelem\u00e4\u00e4n\nraitista ilmaa. Tapasipa tytt\u00f6 joko sattumalta tai sopimuksesta\nsulhasensa, ja heid\u00e4n edestakaisin k\u00e4velless\u00e4\u00e4n min\u00e4 j\u00e4in leikkim\u00e4\u00e4n\nnaapuritalon pikku tytt\u00f6sen kanssa, milloin heid\u00e4n n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4\u00e4n, milloin\npensaikossa piilossa telmien.\nPaikalle saapui tuollainen vanha vaimo, joiden julmana ammattina\nkuuluu siihen aikaan olleen siepata siev\u00e4n n\u00e4k\u00f6isi\u00e4 pikku lapsia, ja\nsiirtomaiden istutust\u00f6ihin myyd\u00e4kseen isompiakin. Tulija otti minut\naina v\u00e4liin syliins\u00e4 suudellakseen, ja leikki kanssamme, houkutellen\nsiten meid\u00e4t molemmat v\u00e4h\u00e4n et\u00e4\u00e4mm\u00e4ksi. Lopulta h\u00e4n palautti kumppanini\nhoitajattaren luokse sanomaan, ett\u00e4 vieras rouva oli mieltynyt\nlapseen ja viihdytteli sit\u00e4, kunnes pienokainen haettaisiin kotiinsa.\nLeikkitoverini l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4 asialleen vaimo vei minut kerrassaan matkaansa.\nMinut luovutettiin n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti aluksi jollekulle kerj\u00e4l\u00e4is-akalle, joka\ntarvitsi kaunista pikku-lasta, saadakseen ihmisilt\u00e4 armeliasta apua,\nja sittemmin mustalaisnaiselle, jonka hoivissa vartuin noin kuuden\nvuoden vanhaksi. Eik\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 vaimo koskaan antanut minun olla mink\u00e4\u00e4n\npuutteessa, vaikka herke\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 kuljeskelimmekin maan toisesta \u00e4\u00e4rest\u00e4\ntoiseen. H\u00e4n ilmaisi minulle viimein, etten ollut h\u00e4nen oma poikansa,\nja kertoi ostaneensa minut kahdellatoista shillingill\u00e4 toiselta\nvaimolta, jolta oli kuullut mill\u00e4 tavoin minut oli saatu. Nimekseni oli\npantu Bob Singleton.\nHy\u00f6dyt\u00f6nt\u00e4 on t\u00e4ss\u00e4 koettaa kuvitella minut hukanneen huolimattoman\nletukan s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyst\u00e4, tai sit\u00e4 ansaittua ripityst\u00e4, mink\u00e4 h\u00e4n sai\nis\u00e4lt\u00e4ni ja \u00e4idilt\u00e4ni n\u00e4iden kauhuissaan vaikeroidessa lapsensa\nkohtaloa. En ole saanut heist\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n vihi\u00e4 koko el\u00e4m\u00e4ni aikana.\nHyv\u00e4 mustalais-\u00e4itini ripustettiin aikanansa hirsipuuhun, kaiketikin\njostakin ammattiinsa kuuluvasta tekosesta; ja kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 sattui hiukan\nliian aikaisin pysty\u00e4kseni viel\u00e4 omin neuvoin ansaitsemaan elantoani\nkulkurina, niin otti minusta pit\u00e4\u00e4kseen jotakin huolta kai se kunta,\njohon silloin j\u00e4in. Ainakin on ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 muistonani sen j\u00e4lkeen\ntepasteleminen kyl\u00e4koulussa, jossa pit\u00e4j\u00e4n pappi kehotteli minua\nolemaan hyv\u00e4 poika, jotta min\u00e4 k\u00f6yh\u00e4st\u00e4 raukastakin sukeutuisin kunnon\nkansalaiseksi, jos lukisin ahkerasti ja turvaisin Jumalaan.\nMinua lienee siirrelty kunnasta toiseen, kenties sik\u00e4li kuin n\u00e4m\u00e4\nkiisteliv\u00e4t oletetun \u00e4itini viimeisest\u00e4 varsinaisesta kotipaikasta.\nLopuksi n\u00e4yn joutuneen l\u00e4helle meren rannikkoa, sill\u00e4 minuun mieltyi\njoku laivankapteeni ja toi minut avustelemaan pikku palveluksillani\nv\u00e4ke\u00e4, joka rakensi h\u00e4nelle laivaa Bussletonissa Southamptonin\nlikittyvill\u00e4. Sen valmistuttua h\u00e4n otti minut mukaansa matkalle\nNewfoundlandiin, vaikka olin vasta kahdentoista ik\u00e4inen.\nTulin toimeen koko hyvin, ja miellytin kapteenia niin suuresti, ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4n nimitteli minua omaksi pojakseen. Tein kolme tai nelj\u00e4 matkaa\nh\u00e4nen mukanaan, ja vartuin vantteraksi pojaksi. Mutta kerran taas\nl\u00e4hdetty\u00e4mme kotia kohti Newfoundlandista meid\u00e4t sieppasi algerialainen\nkaappari eli rosvo-alus, j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in tekemieni laskelmien mukaan noin\nvuoden 1695 vaiheilla.\nN\u00e4in turkkilaisten pitelev\u00e4n hyvin raakamaisesti kapteeniani, joka\noli taistelussa saanut pirstoutuneesta s\u00e4l\u00f6st\u00e4 haavan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4ns\u00e4. Mutta\nminua ei onnettomuus suurestikaan koetellut, kunnes tulin tehneeksi\njonkun kovaonnisen huomautuksen, muistaakseni kapteenin kohtelemisesta;\nsilloin minut tempaistiin esille ja jalkapohjiani suomittiin litte\u00e4ll\u00e4\nkepill\u00e4 niin armottomasti, etten moneen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n kyennyt liikkeelle.\nRosvot purjehtivat saalistansa hinaten Gibraltarin salmea kohti, kun\nCadizin lahden n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4 kaksi isoa portugalilaista sotalaivaa k\u00e4vi\nheid\u00e4n kimppuunsa, vallaten laivan ja vieden sen Lissaboniin. En\nollut joutunut kovinkaan apeaksi vankeudestani, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en edes\nosannut oivaltaa sen seurauksia, jos sit\u00e4 olisi jatkunut. Niinp\u00e4 en\nmy\u00f6sk\u00e4\u00e4n kyennyt kunnolleen arvostamaan pelastustani, eik\u00e4 se sitte\ntodellakaan minuun n\u00e4hden k\u00e4ynyt t\u00e4ydest\u00e4, sill\u00e4 kapteeni kuoli\nhaavoihinsa Lissabonissa, ja siten menetin ainoan yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni maailmassa.\nMinulle palasi niin ollen melkein alkuper\u00e4inen tilani, n\u00e4lkiintyminen,\nlis\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n viel\u00e4 se haitta, ett\u00e4 olin vieraassa maassa, miss\u00e4 en tuntenut\nainoatakaan ihmist\u00e4 enk\u00e4 pystynyt sanallakaan puhumaan puolestani.\nKuitenkin k\u00e4vi minulle siell\u00e4 paremmin kuin saatoin odottaa, sill\u00e4\nkun koko muu miehist\u00f6mme sai l\u00e4hte\u00e4 minne mieli teki, j\u00e4in min\u00e4\nturvattomuudessani useaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi laivaan. Vihdoin minut sai\nn\u00e4kyviins\u00e4 muuan luutnantti ja tiedusti mit\u00e4 tuo englantilainen\npenikka t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 maleksi ja miksi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ei heitetty maihin. Arvasin\nh\u00e4nen sanojensa sis\u00e4ll\u00f6n, ja laivan luotsi, vanha merimies, n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n\nsurkean katsantoni tuli vaillinaisella englanninkielell\u00e4 ilmottamaan\nminulle, ett\u00e4 minun oli l\u00e4hdett\u00e4v\u00e4.\n\"Minne on minun l\u00e4hdett\u00e4v\u00e4?\" kysyin min\u00e4.\n\"Minne haluat -- vaikkapa kotimaahasi, jos tahdot.\"\n\"Mill\u00e4 keinoin sinne l\u00e4htisin?\"\n\"Mit\u00e4, eik\u00f6 sinulla ole ollenkaan yst\u00e4vi\u00e4?\" ihmetteli h\u00e4n.\n\"Ei\", vastasin, \"ei koko maailmassa muuta kuin tuo koira\", viitaten\nlaivan koiraan, joka oli vastik\u00e4\u00e4n tuonut varastamansa lihakimpaleen\nviereeni, luovuttaen sen ateriakseni; \"se on ollut hyv\u00e4n\u00e4 yst\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4 ja\ntoimittanut minulle p\u00e4iv\u00e4lliseni.\"\n\"Hyv\u00e4inen aika\", puheli luotsi, \"pit\u00e4neeh\u00e4n sinun saada ruokaa.\nL\u00e4hdetk\u00f6 minun matkaani?\"\n\"Mielihyv\u00e4ll\u00e4\", vastasin min\u00e4. Vanha luotsi vei minut kotiinsa ja\nkohteli minua kutakuinkin hyvin, vaikka raataa sain otsani hiess\u00e4.\nAsuin h\u00e4nen luonaan kaksi vuotta, h\u00e4nen harjottaessaan ammattiansa;\nsitte h\u00e4n sitoutui laivuriksi eli luotsiksi don Garcia de Pimentesia\nde Carravallasille, it\u00e4-intialaiseen Goaan l\u00e4htev\u00e4n portugalilaisen\ngaleonin eli karakin kapteenille. Heti toimensa saatuaan h\u00e4n pani minut\nlaivaan hoitelemaan kajuuttiansa, jonne h\u00e4n oli varannut ylt\u00e4kyllin\nv\u00e4kijuomia, s\u00e4ilytettyj\u00e4 hedelmi\u00e4, sokeria, mausteita ja muuta hyv\u00e4\u00e4\nomiksi matkaev\u00e4ikseen, j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in muka vaatevarastonaan s\u00e4ilytt\u00e4en\nsinne melkoisen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n europalaisia kauppatavaroita, kuten hienoja\nkudost\u00f6it\u00e4 ja palttinoita sek\u00e4 poijia ja muita villakankaita.\nJos olinkin nuoruuden huolettomuudessa haluton pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n mink\u00e4\u00e4nlaista\np\u00e4iv\u00e4kirjaa t\u00e4st\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n matkastani, vaikka is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni siihen kehotteli,\nniin aloin kuitenkin ajan mittaan silm\u00e4ill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen karttojansa ja\nkirjojansa. Ja kun osasin v\u00e4ltt\u00e4v\u00e4sti kirjottaa, ymm\u00e4rsin hiukan\nlatinaa ja v\u00e4hitellen opin portugalinkielt\u00e4kin, niin pystyin p\u00e4\u00e4llisin\npuolin perehtym\u00e4\u00e4n merenkulkuoppiin, vaikk'en siin\u00e4 m\u00e4\u00e4rin kuin\nsaattoi katsoa tarvittavan suoriutuakseni siit\u00e4 seikkailu-el\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4\nmik\u00e4 minun kohtalokseni koitui. Sanalla sanoen, opinpa yht\u00e4 ja toista\nt\u00e4ll\u00e4 matkallani portugalilaisten parissa; eritoten kehittyi minusta\njulkea pitk\u00e4kynsi ja kehno merimies, ja luulenpa voivani vakuuttaa,\nett\u00e4 he ovat maailman kaikista kansakunnista p\u00e4tevimm\u00e4t opetusmestarit\nmolempiin.\nPoikkesimme It\u00e4-Intian matkallamme Brasilian rannikolle. Eih\u00e4n se\ntosin ollut tolan varrella, mutta sinne kapteenimme ensin suuntasi\nkulkumme joko omasta alotteestaan tai omistajien m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksest\u00e4. Kaikkien\nPyhimysten lahdessa, jolla portugalinkieless\u00e4 on nimen\u00e4 Rio de Todos\nlos Santos, purimme l\u00e4hes sata tonnia tavaroita ja otimme lastiksi\nmelkoisen er\u00e4n kultaa, muutamia sokerilaatikkoja ja seitsem\u00e4n- tai\nkahdeksankymment\u00e4 tupakkak\u00e4\u00e4ry\u00e4, v\u00e4hint\u00e4inkin sentnerin painoisia\nkukin. Niiss\u00e4 hommissa sain uskottua asemaani hyv\u00e4kseni k\u00e4ytt\u00e4en maissa\nis\u00e4nt\u00e4ni k\u00e4skyst\u00e4 hy\u00f6riess\u00e4ni n\u00e4pistetyksi omaan taskuuni parikymment\u00e4\nkultamoidoria; se oli ensim\u00e4inen sellainen seikkailuni.\nMin\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sin hyvin uutteran ja tuiki luotettavan palvelijan maineeseen\nhoidellessani is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni minulle uskomia teht\u00e4vi\u00e4. Uuttera olinkin,\nmutta pahastipa erehtyiv\u00e4t pit\u00e4ess\u00e4\u00e4n minua rehellisen\u00e4. Siin\u00e4\nharhaluulossaan kapteenikin kiintyi minuun suuresti ja k\u00e4ytti\nminua tuon tuostakin omissa asioissansa; min\u00e4 taasen sain auliin\nahkeruuteni palkaksi monia pikku etuja. Etenkin k\u00e4ytti h\u00e4n minua laivan\nkonstaapelin apurina silloin kun t\u00e4ydenteli laivan varastosta omia\nyksityisi\u00e4 muonavarojansa, joita erityinen konstaapeli hoiteli. Ja\nniiss\u00e4p\u00e4 hommissa monet hyv\u00e4t palat solahtivat salaa minun suuhuni.\nSeitsem\u00e4ss\u00e4 kuukaudessa saavuimme Goaan ja viivyimme siell\u00e4\nkahdeksannen. Is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni yleens\u00e4 oleskeli p\u00e4iv\u00e4t p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n maissa,\njoten minulla ei koko sin\u00e4 aikana ollut juuri mink\u00e4\u00e4nlaatuista muuta\nteht\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 kuin oppia kaikkea mit\u00e4 portugalilaisissa on pahaa; ja se\nv\u00e4ki on petollisinta ja irstainta, r\u00f6yhkeint\u00e4 ja julminta kaikista\nmaan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 kristityn nime\u00e4 kantavista kansakunnista. Samalla ovat he\nsiet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4st\u00e4 rohkeutensa p\u00f6yhkeilyst\u00e4 huolimatta yleens\u00e4 hurjimpia\npelkureita mit\u00e4 konsanaan olen tavannut. Oli tosin siell\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\njoukossa joku muita v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n kelvoton, mutta juuri n\u00e4iden pariin\nparhaasta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 ly\u00f6tt\u00e4ytyneen\u00e4 min\u00e4 sit\u00e4 syvemmin halveksin toisia, ja\nsyyst\u00e4 kyll\u00e4kin.\nKohtalo tietenkin siten ohjaili urani alkua, tiet\u00e4en ett\u00e4 minulle\ntulisi maailmassa teht\u00e4v\u00e4ksi ty\u00f6t\u00e4, josta ei kykenisi suoriutumaan\nkukaan muu kuin kaikelle rehellisyyden ja uskonnon tunteelle paatunut.\nMutta kuitenkin, omassakin pahuuden tilassani, her\u00e4tti ymp\u00e4rist\u00f6ni\nt\u00e4ydellinen kunnottomuus minussa niin jyrkk\u00e4\u00e4 kammoa, ett'en alusta\nasti voinut muuta kuin kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni vihata portugalilaisia,\npysyen sill\u00e4 kannalla kaiken ik\u00e4ni.\nSaatuani tiet\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kapteeni maksoi is\u00e4nn\u00e4lleni puoli moidoria\nkuukaudessa palveluksestani ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli my\u00f6skin merkitytt\u00e4nyt\nnimeni laivan kirjoihin, odotin ett\u00e4 min\u00e4kin saisin jonkun er\u00e4n\nitselleni silloin kun miehist\u00f6lle maksettaisiin Intiassa nelj\u00e4n\nkuukauden palkkaa vastaava tavanmukainen ensim\u00e4inen suoritus. Mutta\nerehdyinp\u00e4 kerrassaan; h\u00e4n ei ollut niit\u00e4 miehi\u00e4. H\u00e4n oli ottanut minut\nhoteisiinsa h\u00e4d\u00e4n hetken\u00e4, ja h\u00e4nen hy\u00f6tyns\u00e4 vaati minua siin\u00e4 tilassa\npysym\u00e4\u00e4nkin, jotta olisin edullisimmin h\u00e4nen vapaasti k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nArmeliaisuudesta ei h\u00e4n siis ollutkaan minua huostassaan pit\u00e4nyt; min\u00e4\ntaasen olin heti laivaan tullessani olettanut jotakin palkkaa saavani.\nPahaa aavistamatta toimitin er\u00e4\u00e4n miehen puhumaan asiastani, muiden\nsaatua rahansa. H\u00e4n t\u00e4st\u00e4 kuohahti sokeaan raivoon, nimitteli minua\nenglantilaiseksi koiraksi ja nuoreksi kerettil\u00e4iseksi, ja uhkasi j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4\nminut inkvisitsionin k\u00e4siin. Eip\u00e4 h\u00e4nen olisi juuri kerettil\u00e4ist\u00e4\npit\u00e4nyt valita kaikista nimittelyist\u00e4, mit\u00e4 aakkosistamme kokoon saapi;\nsill\u00e4 kun min\u00e4 en tiennyt uskonnosta mit\u00e4\u00e4n, en protestanttilaisesta\nsen paremmin kuin katolilaisestakaan enk\u00e4 kumpaistakaan\nmuhamettilaisesta erottanut, niin enh\u00e4n voinut kerettil\u00e4inenk\u00e4\u00e4n\nolla. Laivan kappalainenkin, ryhtyen antamaan minulle alkeis-ohjausta\nkatolilaisissa opinkappaleissa, koetti is\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4ni taivutella, mutta\nsilloin h\u00e4n pauhasi, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en ollut h\u00e4nen palvelijansa, vaan\norjansa, jonka h\u00e4n oli siepannut Algeriassa, vakuuttaen minun olevan\nturkkilainen veitikka, joka vapauteen p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4kseni pyrin olemaan\nenglantilainen. Inkvisitsionilla h\u00e4n sitte uhkaili ehtim\u00e4n takaa.\nP\u00e4\u00e4tin karata tieheni, kun vain tilaisuuden tapaisin; mutta kun\nGoassa ei ollut muita laivoja ja minut olisi maissa saatu kiinni,\nniin minulla ei ollut muuta keinoa kuin k\u00e4rsiv\u00e4llisyys. Ja senkin h\u00e4n\nkulutti loppuun niin joutuin kuin kykeni, sill\u00e4 siit\u00e4 l\u00e4htein h\u00e4n alkoi\nkohdella minua pahoin, ei ainoastaan huonontaen ruokaani, vaan my\u00f6skin\nraakamaisesti r\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4ten minua pienimm\u00e4st\u00e4kin aiheesta, niin ett\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4ni\nalkoi olla kovin viheli\u00e4ist\u00e4. Kurjuuteni ja pelastumisen mahdottomuus\npani minut hautomaan kaikenlaista pahaa mieless\u00e4ni. Y\u00f6t p\u00e4iv\u00e4t pohdin\nkatkerata kostoa.\nKotimatkalla p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4mme Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemen tasalle ajoi meid\u00e4t takaisin\nankara l\u00e4nsilounasmyrsky, joka pid\u00e4tteli meit\u00e4 kuusi vuorokautta\nulohtaalla id\u00e4ss\u00e4, kunnes sitte useamman p\u00e4iv\u00e4n luovailun j\u00e4lkeen\nviimein ankkuroitsimme Madagaskarin rannikolle. Laiva oli k\u00e4rsinyt\nmelkoisia vaurioita ja kaipasi korjaamista; luotsi, is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni, ohjasi\nsen siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4 likemm\u00e4 maata, kunnes kelluimme varsin hyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 kuuden\nkolmatta sylen syvyisess\u00e4 satamassa noin puolen engl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\nrannasta.\nLaivan siin\u00e4 viipyess\u00e4 puhkesi miehist\u00f6n keskuudessa jonkun\nruokaosuuksissa havaitun puutteellisuuden johdosta mit\u00e4 uhkamielisin\nkapina, yltyen niin pitk\u00e4lle, ett\u00e4 he uhkasivat vied\u00e4 kapteenin maihin\nja omin neuvoin palata laivalla Goaan. Olisin sen suonut kaikesta\nsyd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni, sill\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4ni py\u00f6ri pelkki\u00e4 konnankujeita ja olin\nkaikkiin sellaisiin valmis. Nuoresta ij\u00e4st\u00e4ni huolimatta min\u00e4 senvuoksi\nkannustin tyytym\u00e4tt\u00f6mi\u00e4 niin innokkaasti ja julkisestikin, ett\u00e4 olin\nkovin t\u00e4p\u00e4r\u00e4sti joutumaisillani hirteen ihan el\u00e4m\u00e4ni alkukautena.\nKapteeni n\u00e4et oli saanut jotakin vihi\u00e4 siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 miehist\u00f6st\u00e4 muutamat\nsuunnittelivat h\u00e4nen kuolemaansa. Osittain rahalla ja lupauksilla,\nosittain uhkauksilla ja kidutuksella h\u00e4n sai kaksi miest\u00e4 tunnustamaan\nkaikki juurtajaksain. Nimelt\u00e4\u00e4n mainitut kytkettiin j\u00e4rjest\u00e4\u00e4n kiinni,\nkunnes toisen syytt\u00e4ess\u00e4 toistansa oli lopulta kuusitoista miest\u00e4\nraudoissa, min\u00e4 niist\u00e4 yhten\u00e4.\nVaara sai kapteenin horjumattoman ankaraksi; h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4tti puhdistaa\nlaivan vihamiehist\u00e4\u00e4n ja tutkittuansa tuomitsi meid\u00e4t kaikki\nkuolemaan. Olin liian nuori k\u00e4sitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nen j\u00e4rjestelm\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4; mutta\nrahastonhoitaja ja yksi tykkimiehist\u00e4 hirtettiin heti, ja min\u00e4 odotin\nmuiden mukana samaa kohtaloa. En muista olinko siit\u00e4 kovassakin\nsieluntuskassa; ainakin itke\u00e4 tuhersin haikeasti, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tunsin\nsilloin t\u00e4t\u00e4 maailmaa varsin v\u00e4h\u00e4n enk\u00e4 tulevaisesta tiennyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMutta kapteeni tyytyikin noiden kahden telottamiseen, ja useat\nsyylliset saivat anteeksi, n\u00f6yr\u00e4sti alistuttuansa kapteenin\nk\u00e4skyvaltaan ja vakautettuansa vast'edes k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytyv\u00e4ns\u00e4\nmoitteettomasti. Ainoastaan viisi m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttiin soudettavaksi saaren\nrantaan ja j\u00e4tett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi sinne, ja siihen ryhm\u00e4\u00e4n kuuluin min\u00e4. Is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni\nturhaan k\u00e4ytti kaiken vaikutusvaltansa saadakseen kapteenin armahtamaan\nminut; kapteeni oli joltakulta kuullut, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 muka olin h\u00e4nen\nsurmaajikseen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttyj\u00e4, ja vastaili is\u00e4nn\u00e4lleni, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 kyll\u00e4\nsaisin j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 laivaan, jos h\u00e4n sit\u00e4 halusi, mutta ett\u00e4 minut siin\u00e4\ntapauksessa hirtett\u00e4isiin, joten h\u00e4n saisi minun puolestani valita\nmink\u00e4 piti parempana. Kapteenia tuntui erityisesti kiukuttaneen minun\nosallisuuteni salaliittoon, syyst\u00e4 ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli aina ollut minulle\nsuopea ja erityisesti valinnut minut palvelijakseen.\nJos is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni olisi tiennyt mit\u00e4 aikeita minulla oli ollut mieless\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen oman p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 menoksi, niin eip\u00e4 h\u00e4n olisi valinnassaan siekaillut;\nmutta kapteenia vastaan ei minulla noin julmaa aikomusta ollut. Hyv\u00e4\nsallimus oli ehk\u00e4issyt minut tahraamasta k\u00e4si\u00e4ni vereen, ja se sai\nminut j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in maltillisemmaksi p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ihmishengest\u00e4 kuin\nluullakseni olisin muutoin ollut. En kuitenkaan ollut is\u00e4nn\u00e4lleni\nkovinkaan kiitollinen siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli kapteenia puolestani\npuhutellut, sill\u00e4 tiesin sen tapahtuneen itsekk\u00e4ist\u00e4 syist\u00e4, h\u00e4nen kun\nteki mieli k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 maksutonta palvelusta ja edelleenkin peri\u00e4 siit\u00e4\nomistajilta kuusi dollaria kuukaudessa.\nOlin vasta seitsem\u00e4n- tai kahdeksantoista vuoden ik\u00e4inen, mutta\nen tuomiota varsin raskaalta kannalta ottanut, kun sit\u00e4vastoin\nonnettomuustoverini olivat menehty\u00e4 surkeuteensa, ajatellessaan\nkuolevansa n\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4n tai joutuvansa petojen tai ihmissy\u00f6jien saaliiksi.\nKehno ja samalla vaarallinen olin alottamaan itsen\u00e4ist\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4; mutta\n\u00e4lyt\u00f6n huolettomuuteni antoi ajatuksilleni tilaa mietti\u00e4 apukeinoja\nh\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4n, olipa se miten toivoton tahansa. Kuultuani is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni yritt\u00e4neen\nolla v\u00e4litt\u00e4j\u00e4n\u00e4, pyysin saada puhutella h\u00e4nt\u00e4. Vaivuin polvilleni\nh\u00e4nen eteens\u00e4 ja rukoilin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 antamaan minulle anteeksi, mit\u00e4 olin\nh\u00e4nen mielens\u00e4 pahottamiseksi tehnyt; ja minua kauhistuttikin h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nvastaan kauvan hautomani murhanhanke sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 siksi suuresti,\nett\u00e4 jo olin kerran tunnustamaisillani sen, anoakseni siit\u00e4kin\nanteeksiantoa, mutta sain liikutukseni hillityksi. H\u00e4n lupasi,\nett\u00e4 jos he Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemell\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sisiv\u00e4t puhuttelemaan jotakuta\nportugalilaista laivaa, h\u00e4n ylitt\u00e4isi taivutella heit\u00e4 l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n meit\u00e4\nnoutamaan, silt\u00e4 varalta ett\u00e4 viel\u00e4 olisimme l\u00f6ydett\u00e4viss\u00e4. Mutta h\u00e4n\narveli mahdottomaksi meid\u00e4n pysy\u00e4 kauvankaan hengiss\u00e4 saarella, jonka\nasukkaiden kerrottiin olevan ihmissy\u00f6ji\u00e4.\nVastasin, etten niin suuresti pelj\u00e4nnyt sit\u00e4 kuin ett\u00e4 menehtyisimme\nn\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4n; jos asukkaat olivat ihmissy\u00f6ji\u00e4kin, niin pidin luultavampana,\nett\u00e4 me pikemmin s\u00f6isimme heit\u00e4 kuin p\u00e4invastoin, jos vain voisimme\nk\u00e4yd\u00e4 heihin k\u00e4siksi. Mutta ilmaisin olevani suuressa tuskassa siit\u00e4,\nettei meill\u00e4 ollut aseita puolustukseksemme, enk\u00e4 nyt muuta kerj\u00e4nnyt\nkuin saada pyssyn ja miekan sek\u00e4 hiukan ruutia ja luoteja. H\u00e4n hymyili\nja piti pyynt\u00f6\u00e4ni aivan turhana yrityksen\u00e4 p\u00e4iviemme hetkelliseksi\npitent\u00e4miseksi saaren lukuisan ja julman villikansan keskess\u00e4, mutta\nsuostui kuitenkin viimein puhumaan asiasta kapteenille. Seuraavana\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 sainkin pyssyn ja hiukan ampumavaroja, niukan vaatevarastoni\nohella.\nKahta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 my\u00f6hemmin meid\u00e4t vietiin yhdess\u00e4 maihin, ja kun toverini\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t minun saaneen puolustuskeinoja, niin hekin hartaista\npyynn\u00f6ist\u00e4\u00e4n saivat pyssyn ja ampumavaroja mukaansa.\nEnsin saareen tullessamme meit\u00e4 suunnattomasti kauhistutti sen\nhirmuiseksi kuvaellun raakalaiskansan n\u00e4keminen; mutta jonkun\naikaa puheltuamme villien kanssa merkeill\u00e4, huomasimme ett\u00e4 jos he\nihmissy\u00f6ji\u00e4kin olivat, niin eiv\u00e4t he ainakaan heti karkaisi kimppuumme.\nHe tulivat istumaan ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4mme ja ihmetteliv\u00e4t suuresti vaatteitamme\nja aseitamme, ilmaisivatpa antavansa meille ruokavarojakin. Aluksi\nsaimme mit\u00e4 heill\u00e4 sattui olemaan, nimitt\u00e4in vain juuria ja yrttej\u00e4,\nmutta j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in he toivat meille runsaat m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t lintuja ja lihaa.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 elvytti nelj\u00e4n masentuneen kumppanini mielt\u00e4. He alkoivat\nkotiutua oloihinsa ja haastelivat merkkikielell\u00e4 villeille, ett\u00e4 jos\nhe kohtelisivat meit\u00e4 yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti, niin j\u00e4isimme heid\u00e4n luokseen\nasumaan. He n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t olevan siit\u00e4 mieliss\u00e4\u00e4n, vaikka eiv\u00e4t aavistaneet\nmik\u00e4 pakko meit\u00e4 ajoi ja kuinka kamalasti heit\u00e4 pelk\u00e4simme. L\u00e4hemmin\najateltuamme p\u00e4\u00e4timme kuitenkin viipy\u00e4 siin\u00e4 paikassa ainoastaan niin\nkauvan kuin laiva oli lahdella ankkurissa. Sitte uskottelisimme heille\nl\u00e4hteneemme laivassa ja pujahtaisimme muuanne, mik\u00e4li mahdollista\nsellaiseen seutuun, miss\u00e4 ei n\u00e4kynyt asukkaita, el\u00e4\u00e4ksemme sittemmin\nparhaan kykymme mukaan ja t\u00e4hystell\u00e4ksemme sattuisiko joku laiva\najautumaan rannikolle kuten mekin.\nLaiva pysyi asemillaan parisen viikkoa, joll'aikaa sit\u00e4 paikkailtiin\nsek\u00e4 varustettiin puilla ja juomavedell\u00e4. Laivavene tuli useasti\nrantaan, jolloin miehet toivat meille yht\u00e4 ja toista ruokatavaraa;\nalkuasukkaat k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytyiv\u00e4t kyll\u00e4kin kohteliaasti, arvellen meid\u00e4n\nolevan laivan miehist\u00f6\u00e4. Asustimme rannalla oksista punomassamme\nmajassa ja vet\u00e4ysimme toisinaan y\u00f6ll\u00e4 mets\u00e4\u00e4n, jotta naapurimme\najattelisivat meid\u00e4n menneen laivaan. Mutta me huomasimme heid\u00e4t\npohjaltaan julmiksi ja petollisiksi, ja p\u00e4\u00e4ttelimme sen johdosta\npiankin joutuvamme heid\u00e4n k\u00e4siins\u00e4 laivan l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 ajatus kidutti onnettomuustovereitani yh\u00e4 ahdistavammin, niin ett\u00e4\nolivat menett\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4rkens\u00e4. Tuollaisessa tuskan kohtauksessa er\u00e4s heist\u00e4,\nkirvesmies, ui laivaan y\u00f6ll\u00e4, vaikka se oli silloin kolmen engl.\npenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja ruikutti niin surkeasti henkens\u00e4 puolesta, ett\u00e4\nkapteeni viimein taipui ottamaan h\u00e4net armoihinsa, ensin uitettuaan\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 laivan ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 kolmisen tuntia. Mies olikin jo henkitoreissaan,\nja kapteeniin vaikutti sekin, ett\u00e4 koko miehist\u00f6 kiihke\u00e4sti sitoutui\nvastaamaan h\u00e4nest\u00e4.\nMies kuitenkin sitte turhaan k\u00e4ytti parhaan puhekykyns\u00e4 meid\u00e4n\npuolestamme, j\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 kapteenia ja muuta p\u00e4\u00e4llyst\u00f6\u00e4 hetkeksik\u00e4\u00e4n\nrauhaan. Kapteeni pysyi itsepintaisena viimeiseen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n asti; mutta\njuuri l\u00e4ht\u00f6hetkell\u00e4, kun annettiin k\u00e4sky hilata veneet kannelle,\nker\u00e4ysi koko miehist\u00f6 komentosillan juurelle, jolla kapteeni k\u00e4veli\nmuutamien upseeriensa kanssa. Heid\u00e4n puhemiehen\u00e4ns\u00e4 kapusi pursimies\nkomentosillalle, polvistui kapteenin eteen ja rukoili h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 mit\u00e4\nn\u00f6yrimm\u00e4ll\u00e4 tavalla, ett\u00e4 tuomitut otettaisiin takaisin laivaan.\nMiehist\u00f6 takaisi heid\u00e4n uskollisuutensa, tahi voitaisiinpa heid\u00e4t\nraudoissakin vied\u00e4 Lissaboniin oikeuden haltuun j\u00e4tett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi,\nmieluummin kuin luovuttaen heid\u00e4t petojen ja raakalaisten raadeltavaksi.\nKapteeni ei pitk\u00e4\u00e4n toviin ollut mill\u00e4ns\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si sitte\npursimiehen siepattavaksi kiinni ja uhkasi sidottaa h\u00e4net viputukkiin.\nN\u00e4in tuima kohtelu sai er\u00e4\u00e4n muita rohkeamman merimiehen kaikella\nkunnioituksella pyytelem\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 heit\u00e4 saisi joitakuita lis\u00e4\u00e4 l\u00e4hte\u00e4\nmaihin kuolemaan kumppaniensa kanssa tai, jos mahdollista, heid\u00e4n\napunaan torjumaan raakalaiset. T\u00e4m\u00e4p\u00e4 kapteenia pikemmin yllytti kuin\npehmitti. H\u00e4n astui komentosillan reunasuojuksen \u00e4\u00e4reen ja alkoi puhua\nmiehille hyvin j\u00e4rkev\u00e4sti, sill\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n olisi k\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt karkeita\nsanoja, niin heist\u00e4 olisi isompi osa poistunut laivasta, jos eiv\u00e4t\nkaikkikin.\nH\u00e4n huomautti, ett\u00e4 ankaruuteen oli pakottanut yht\u00e4 hyvin heid\u00e4n\nturvallisuutensa kuin h\u00e4nen omansakin. Kapina laivassa oli samaa\nkuin salaliitto kuninkaan palatsissa, eik\u00e4 h\u00e4n voinut omistajille\nja is\u00e4nnille vastata siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 uskoisi huostaansa annetun laivan\nlasteineen sellaisten miesten varaan, joilla oli ollut mit\u00e4 katalimmat\nvehkeet. H\u00e4n olisi syd\u00e4mest\u00e4\u00e4n suonut, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4t olisi viety maihin\nmiss\u00e4 tahansa muualla, ollakseen v\u00e4hemm\u00e4ss\u00e4 vaarassa villeilt\u00e4. Jos\nh\u00e4nen aikomuksenansa olisi ollut sy\u00f6st\u00e4 heid\u00e4t surman suuhun, niin\nolisihan h\u00e4n voinut hirt\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4t laivalla kuten nuo muut kaksi. Oli\nparempi, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n henkens\u00e4 joutui vaaraan, kuin h\u00e4nen ja koko laivan\nturvallisuus. H\u00e4n ei tiennyt kenelt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ansaitsevansa niin pahaa\nmenettely\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kukaan l\u00e4htisi tiehens\u00e4 mieluummin kuin t\u00e4ytt\u00e4isi\nvelvollisuutensa, mutta jos joku heist\u00e4 pani j\u00e4\u00e4misens\u00e4 ehdoksi sen,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen piti my\u00f6nty\u00e4 ottamaan laivaan kavaltajajoukko, jonka oli\nselv\u00e4sti todistettu tavotelleen h\u00e4nen henke\u00e4ns\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n ei sellaista\nl\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4 est\u00e4isi. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa h\u00e4n ei en\u00e4\u00e4 pannut pahakseen heid\u00e4n\nkiihkeytt\u00e4ns\u00e4, mutta vaikkapa h\u00e4net j\u00e4tett\u00e4isiin yksikseen laivaan,\nniin h\u00e4n ei ik\u00e4n\u00e4 suostuisi korjaamaan konnia pois saarelta.\nPuhe esitettiin selke\u00e4ll\u00e4 tavalla, se perustui j\u00e4rkisyihin, ja\np\u00e4\u00e4ttyi kaikessa s\u00e4yseydess\u00e4\u00e4n niin rohkeasti kieltoon, ett\u00e4 isoin\nosa miehist\u00f6\u00e4 sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 tyytyi tulokseen. Joitakuita tunteja he\nkuitenkin keskustelivat eri ryhmin\u00e4, ennen kuin tyyntyiv\u00e4t, ja kun\ntuulikin illemm\u00e4ll\u00e4 heikkeni, niin kapteeni k\u00e4ski nostaa ankkurin vasta\nseuraavana aamuna.\nSamana y\u00f6n\u00e4 kolmekolmatta miest\u00e4, joukossa tykkimiehen apulainen,\nhaaval\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4ri ja kaksi kirvesmiest\u00e4, ryhtyi varustamaan l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4\nhylj\u00e4ttyjen toveriensa luokse, kun eiv\u00e4t mielest\u00e4\u00e4n voineet j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4\nheit\u00e4 ihan turvattomaan asemaan. Isomman ja paremmin varustetun\njoukon he arvelivat kenties voivan pit\u00e4\u00e4 puoliansa niin kauvan, ett\u00e4\nesiintyisi joku keino palata kotimaahan. He kirjottivat kapteenia\nvarten kohteliaan kirjeen, jossa lausuivat h\u00e4nen lupansa nojalla\nl\u00e4htev\u00e4ns\u00e4 laivan isolla veneell\u00e4, pyyt\u00e4en h\u00e4nt\u00e4 l\u00e4hett\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n miehi\u00e4\nperim\u00e4\u00e4n sen takaisin rannasta.\nTuntia ennen auringon nousua he l\u00e4ksiv\u00e4t hiljaisesti liikkeelle.\nJokaisella oli musketti ja ly\u00f6m\u00e4miekka; lis\u00e4ksi oli asevarastona\njoitakuita pistooleja, kolme tapparakeih\u00e4st\u00e4 sek\u00e4 runsaat m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t\nruutia ja luoteja. Muonavaroja oli tosin ainoastaan puoli tynnyri\u00e4\nlaivakorppuja matkassa, mutta miehet olivat korjanneet veneeseen kaikki\nkirstunsa ja vaatteensa, ty\u00f6kalunsa, kirjansa ja muun irtaimensa.\nKapteeni ei saanut hommasta vihi\u00e4 ennen kuin miehet jo olivat\npuoliv\u00e4liss\u00e4 taivalta. Oitis h\u00e4n huusi tykkimiehen apulaista\npommittamaan l\u00e4htij\u00f6it\u00e4, kun tykki-osaston p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6 virui sairaana\nhytiss\u00e4\u00e4n; mutta \u00e4hmistyen kuulikin h\u00e4n tykkimiehen apulaisen itse\nl\u00e4hteneen mukaan, ja sill\u00e4 keinoin he olivatkin saaneet niin paljon\naseita ja ampumavaroja.\nHuomatessaan asian auttamattomaksi alkoi kapteeni rauhoittua ja\nkohteli tapausta v\u00e4h\u00e4p\u00e4t\u00f6isen\u00e4, H\u00e4n kutsui miehist\u00f6n koolle ja puheli\nsuopeasti, sanoen t\u00e4ydellisesti luottavansa nyt j\u00e4ljelle j\u00e4\u00e4neiden\nuskollisuuteen ja kykyyn, ja luvaten kehotuspalkkiona jakaa heille\nl\u00e4htij\u00e4in nostamatta j\u00e4\u00e4neet palkkaosat, tyytyv\u00e4isen\u00e4 siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 laiva\noli vapautunut kapinanhaluisesta joukkiosta, jolla ei ollut v\u00e4hint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nnurkumisen syyt\u00e4.\nMiehet tuntuivat my\u00f6s osaltaan tyytyv\u00e4n asiain menoon, ja siihen\nvaikutti tehokkaasti kapteenin takaama rahalahja. Kirjeess\u00e4\u00e4n,\njonka olivat j\u00e4tt\u00e4neet kapteenin palveluspojalle, maihin l\u00e4hteneet\nhuomauttivat ottaneensa mukaansa ainoastaan omat tavaransa, paitsi\nhiukan aseita ja ampumavaroja sellaisia mit\u00e4 ihan v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4sti\ntarvitsivat sek\u00e4 puolustusneuvoikseen ett\u00e4 voidakseen saada elantonsa\nmets\u00e4nriistalla -- ja sen kaiken he arvelivat tulevan korvatuksi heid\u00e4n\nperim\u00e4tt\u00f6mill\u00e4 palkoillaan. Miehet lupasivat kunniasanallaan luovuttaa\nisonveneen rauhallisesti takaisin, mutta pyysiv\u00e4t n\u00f6yr\u00e4sti saada viel\u00e4\ntynnyrillisen ruutia ja hiukan muita ampumavaroja lis\u00e4\u00e4. Toivoivatpa\nsaavansa my\u00f6skin pit\u00e4\u00e4 isonveneen maston ja purjeen, jotta voisivat\nyritt\u00e4\u00e4 meritse pelastua jonnekunne, jos pystyisiv\u00e4t kyh\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n kokoon\njonkunlaisen aluksen.\nKapteeni oli voittanut \u00e4skeisell\u00e4 puheellaan paljon ja halusi saada\nh\u00e4iriintym\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4n rauhan syntym\u00e4\u00e4n. H\u00e4n ilmotti miehille kirjeen\nsis\u00e4ll\u00f6n ja sanoi, ett\u00e4 vaikkakaan luopiot eiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 sellaista\nhyvyytt\u00e4 ansainneet, h\u00e4n ei kuitenkaan suonut heille sen suurempaa\nvaaraa kuin he itse olivat valmiit kest\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n. Yhden ruutitynnyrin\nasemesta h\u00e4n l\u00e4hett\u00e4isi heille kaksi, sek\u00e4 suhteellisen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n luoteja\ntai lyijy\u00e4 ja muotteja luotien valmistamiseksi; jopa antoi m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksen\ntoimittaa heille ensi h\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 astiallisen aarakkia ja ison er\u00e4n\nlaivakorppuja.\nMiehist\u00f6\u00e4 ihastutti kapteenin jalomielisyys, ja jokainen heist\u00e4 l\u00e4hetti\nviel\u00e4 omasta puolestaan jotakin. Kello kolmen seuduissa ehtoop\u00e4iv\u00e4ll\u00e4\nsaapui pinassi rantaan, tuoden meille tavarat suureksi mielihyv\u00e4ksemme\nja vieden isonveneen matkassaan. Pinassiin oli kapteeni valinnut\nvarmimmat miehet ja kuoleman uhalla kielt\u00e4nyt n\u00e4it\u00e4 tuomasta ket\u00e4\u00e4n\ntakaisin laivaan; mutta niinp\u00e4 hyvin mekin aseman tajusimme, ettei\nket\u00e4\u00e4n pyydetty toiselta puolen j\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n tai toiselta puolen l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n.\nTOINEN LUKU.\nPurjehdus Ep\u00e4toivon niemelle.\nMeit\u00e4 oli nyt vankka joukko, kaikkiaan seitsem\u00e4nkolmatta miest\u00e4,\noivallisesti aseestettuja ja varattuja kaikella paitsi muonavaroilla.\nMukanamme oli kaksi kirvesmiest\u00e4, yksi tykkimies, sek\u00e4 haavuri, joka\nvastasi kaikkia muita yhteens\u00e4; h\u00e4n oli toiminut l\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4rin apulaisena\nGoassa ja siirtynyt laivaamme ylim\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4isen\u00e4. Kirvesmiehet olivat\ntuoneet kaikki ty\u00f6kalunsa, haavuri kaikki kojeensa ja rohtolaatikkonsa,\nja yhteens\u00e4 meill\u00e4 olikin aika m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 kapistuksia, vaikka joillakuilla\nei ollut juuri muuta yksityist\u00e4 omaisuutta kuin vaatteet yll\u00e4\u00e4n.\nViimeksimainittuja olin min\u00e4kin, mutta olipa minulla salattuna\nsellaista mit\u00e4 muilta puuttui, nimitt\u00e4in Brasiliassa varastamani\nkaksikolmatta kultamoidoria ja muuten ansaitsemani kaksi hopeakolikkoa.\nOn helppo kuvitella, kuinka meit\u00e4 nelj\u00e4\u00e4 ihastutti seurueemme\nkarttuminen, vaikka ensin s\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4en luulimmekin heid\u00e4n palanneen\nviem\u00e4\u00e4n meit\u00e4 hirtett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi, etenkin kun mielemme olivat lis\u00e4ksi\nlannistuneet toverimme katoamisesta, jonka nyt vasta kuulimme uineen\nlaivalle. L\u00f6imme jokainen k\u00e4tt\u00e4 k\u00e4teen vahvistukseksi siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nme emme miss\u00e4\u00e4n oloissa erkanisi toisistamme, vaan el\u00e4isimme ja\nkuolisimme yhdess\u00e4. Kaikki tapettu riista oli tasan jaettava; kaikessa\noli enemmist\u00f6ll\u00e4 ehdoton m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ysvalta, jota v\u00e4hemmist\u00f6n ei k\u00e4ynyt\nnurkuminen; keskuudestamme valittaisiin johtaja, jota oli virassa\nollessaan hengen uhalla toteltava ilman vastav\u00e4itteit\u00e4; johtajaksi\njoutuisi kukin vuorostaan, mutta h\u00e4n ei saisi toimia neuvottelematta\nmuiden kanssa, eik\u00e4 enemmist\u00f6\u00e4 vastaan.\nHavaitsimme piankin, ettei meid\u00e4n k\u00e4ynyt ruokavarojen saannissa\nluottaminen saaren saaliinhimoisiin ja tyhmiin alkuasukkaihin;\netusijassa oli meid\u00e4n tultava toimeen pyssyill\u00e4mme, ampuen hirvi\u00e4 ja\nmuita otuksia sek\u00e4 lintuja, joita oli ylt\u00e4kyllin saatavissa. Seutu\noli kyll\u00e4 miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4 ja hedelm\u00e4llinen, ja mukava paikka asua. Mutta\nvaikka l\u00f6ysimme joka suunnalta karjaa ja muona-aineksia, niin emme\ntienneet, uskaltaisiko niit\u00e4 ottaa mist\u00e4 vain tapasi. H\u00e4t\u00e4 ei tosin\nlue lakia, mutta ei tehnyt mieli \u00e4rsytt\u00e4\u00e4 kimppuunsa kokonaista\npaholaisten kansakuntaa yhdell\u00e4 kertaa. P\u00e4\u00e4timme sen vuoksi yritt\u00e4\u00e4\nsaada alkuasukkaista sen verran selkoa, ett\u00e4 voisimme p\u00e4\u00e4tell\u00e4 miten\nmenetell\u00e4.\nYksitoista joukostamme l\u00e4ksi hyvin aseestettuina t\u00e4lle asialle.\nHe tapasivat muutamia alkuasukkaita, jotka esiintyiv\u00e4t hyvin\ns\u00e4\u00e4dyllisesti, mutta kovasti arkailivat pyssyj\u00e4, ilmeisesti oivaltaen\nniiden merkityksen. Merkeill\u00e4 he ilmaisivat haluavansa ruokaa, ja\nvillit k\u00e4viv\u00e4t noutamassa yrttej\u00e4, juuria ja maitoa; mutta selville\nk\u00e4vi, ettei niiden tehnyt mieli lahjottaa, vaan myyd\u00e4, ja he tahtoivat\nmerkeill\u00e4 tietoa siit\u00e4, mit\u00e4 miehemme heille tarjoaisivat.\nN\u00e4m\u00e4 joutuivat ymm\u00e4lle, heill\u00e4 kun ei mit\u00e4\u00e4n vaihtotavaraa ollut. Er\u00e4s\nmiehist\u00e4 kuitenkin otti esille taskuveitsens\u00e4 ja n\u00e4ytti villeille, ja\nn\u00e4m\u00e4 siihen niin kiihke\u00e4sti mielistyiv\u00e4t, ett\u00e4 olivat v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4 joutua\ntukkanuottasille kesken\u00e4\u00e4n. Mies sen n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n tahtoi tehd\u00e4 hyv\u00e4n\nkaupan veitsell\u00e4\u00e4n ja antoi villien turhaan tyrkytt\u00e4\u00e4 juuria ja maitoa;\nviimein er\u00e4s tarjosi vuohta, ja se kelpasi. Toinenkin sitte n\u00e4ytti\nveist\u00e4ns\u00e4, mutta sen lunastamiseksi noilla ei ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n kylliksi\nkelvollista. Yksi silloin merkeill\u00e4 ilmaisi k\u00e4v\u00e4isev\u00e4ns\u00e4 noutamassa\njotakin, ja miehet odottivat heid\u00e4n paluutansa kolme tuntia, jolloin\nhe tulivat ostamaan veitsen pienikasvuisella, vantteralla, lihotetulla\nlehm\u00e4ll\u00e4.\nMarkkinat olivat siis hyv\u00e4t, mutta kovaksi onneksi ei meill\u00e4 ollut\nkauppatavaraa, sill\u00e4 veitsemmeh\u00e4n olivat meille yht\u00e4 tarpeelliset\nkuin heillekin. Meid\u00e4n oli siis, kuten sanottu, turvauduttava\nmets\u00e4nriistaan, v\u00e4hitellen havaittuamme mit\u00e4 saatoimme korjata\npuoleemme alkuasukkaita loukkaamatta. Monta seikkailua oli meill\u00e4\nmetsiss\u00e4 samoillessamme, ja tihe\u00e4ss\u00e4 tapasimme julmia petoja, joiden\nnimi\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n emme tienneet; mutta kun ne olivat saalistansa etsim\u00e4ss\u00e4\nkuten mekin, niin h\u00e4iritsimme niit\u00e4 niin v\u00e4h\u00e4n kuin mahdollista.\nVaihtokauppaan ei koko rahavarastommekaan olisi kauvan riitt\u00e4nyt,\netenk\u00e4\u00e4n kun villit eiv\u00e4t tuntuneet rahasta paljoa v\u00e4litt\u00e4v\u00e4n.\nKuitenkin ker\u00e4simme kaikki rahavarat yhteen, ja min\u00e4kin vedin esille\nkahden hopeakolikkoni lis\u00e4ksi yhden moidorin, jotta k\u00f6yh\u00e4\u00e4 poikaa ei\nhalveksittaisi pienen osuutensa t\u00e4hden ja jotta minulta ei enemp\u00e4\u00e4\netsitt\u00e4isi.\nL\u00e4hinn\u00e4 neuvoteltavanamme oli, mill\u00e4 keinoin p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme pois t\u00e4st\u00e4\nkirotusta paikasta ja minne menisimme; min\u00e4 puolestani j\u00e4tin koko\nhankkeen toisten haltuun. P\u00e4\u00e4tettiin kahden kirvesmiehen avulla yritt\u00e4\u00e4\nrakentaa merikelpoinen vene, jolla p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme takaisin Goaan tahi\njollekin muulle nykyist\u00e4 suotuisammalle seudulle. Mutta ty\u00f6ss\u00e4 tuli\nsuuria vaikeuksia eteen; ei ollut sahoja lankkujemme katkaisemiseksi,\nei nauloja ja sinkil\u00f6it\u00e4, ei saumojen tilkitsemiseksi hamppua, pike\u00e4 ja\ntervaa, j.n.e. Viimein muuan esitti, ett\u00e4 emme rakentaisikaan sellaista\npurjealusta kuin oli suunniteltu, vaan ison periaguan eli kanootin,\njoka saataisiin helpommin aikaan.\nVastaan huomautettiin, ett\u00e4 me emme mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n pystyisi rakentamaan\nniin isoa kanoottia, ett\u00e4 voisimme sill\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 ison valtameren yli\nMalabarin rannikolle. Meid\u00e4n kanoottimme ei kest\u00e4isi myrskyj\u00e4, eip\u00e4\nedes kantaisi lastiansakaan, sill\u00e4 meit\u00e4h\u00e4n oli seitsem\u00e4nkolmatta\nmiest\u00e4 matkatarpeinensa, joita viel\u00e4 pit\u00e4isi noin pitk\u00e4lle retkelle\npaljon lis\u00e4t\u00e4.\nEn ollut kertaakaan ennen yritt\u00e4nyt korottaa \u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4ni heid\u00e4n yleisiss\u00e4\nneuvotteluissaan, mutta n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni heid\u00e4n olevan ep\u00e4tietoisia siit\u00e4,\nmillaisen aluksen rakentaisivat, miten sen saisivat kuntoon ja miten\nsit\u00e4 olisi k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4, otin puheenvuoron min\u00e4kin. Sanoin mahdottomaksi\nyritt\u00e4\u00e4 kanootilla Goaan; jos se meid\u00e4t kaikki kannattaisikin ja\nkykenisi myrskyj\u00e4 vastustamaan, niin siihen ei mahtuisi noin pitk\u00e4ksi\najaksi tarvittavaa muonavarastoa, ja kaikkein v\u00e4himmin saisimme\njuomavetemme riitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n. Sellaisen seikkailun yritt\u00e4minen tuottaisi\nvarman tuhon, mutta kuitenkin puolustin kanootin rakentamista.\nHeid\u00e4n kummastellessaan kantani ristiriitaisuutta jatkoin, ett\u00e4 merell\u00e4\noli muitakin aluksia kuin omamme, ja ett\u00e4 useimmat rannikkoheimot kai\nk\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t jonkunlaisia veneit\u00e4. Meid\u00e4n piti kuljeskella saaren pitk\u00e4\u00e4\nrannikkoa my\u00f6ten ja anastaa ensim\u00e4inen tapaamamme alus, mik\u00e4 oli\nomaamme parempi. Sen avulla sieppaisimme toisen, kunnes ehk\u00e4 viimein\nsaisimme hyv\u00e4n laivan, jolla p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme minne hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Oiva neuvo\", virkahti yksi.\n\"Mainiota kerrassaan\", yhtyi toinen.\n\"Kyll\u00e4, kyll\u00e4\", puheli kolmas, tykkimies; \"englantilainen nulikka on\nantanut oivallisen neuvon, mutta juuri sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4 voimme kaikki joutua\nhirsipuuhun. Se veijari on antanut meille tosiaankin riivatun neuvon,\nmenn\u00e4 varastelemaan, kunnes pienest\u00e4 aluksesta p\u00e4\u00e4semme isoon laivaan,\nja siten joudumme suorastaan merirosvoiksi, joiden loppuna on silmukka\nkaulaan.\"\n\"Voit sanoa meit\u00e4 merirosvoiksi\", vastasi toinen, \"jos haluat; ja jos\njoudumme pahoihin k\u00e4siin, niin meit\u00e4 voidaan merirosvoina kohdellakin.\nMutta siit\u00e4 viisi, min\u00e4 rupean merirosvoksi tahi miksi tahansa, ja\nhirteenkin mieluummin menen kuin t\u00e4nne m\u00e4rk\u00e4nen. Sent\u00e4hden katson\nneuvon varsin hyv\u00e4ksi.\"\nJa kaikki huusivat: \"Rakennetaan kanootti.\" Ryhdyimme heti ty\u00f6h\u00f6n,\nvalitsimme mielest\u00e4mme erinomaisen ison puun ja k\u00e4vimme sit\u00e4 kaatamaan.\nKovalla ty\u00f6ll\u00e4kin saimme nelj\u00e4n p\u00e4iv\u00e4n ajan k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 kolmea kirvest\u00e4mme\nsiihen puuhaan. En muista mit\u00e4 puuta se oli, enk\u00e4 kanoottiimme mittoja\ntarkalleen, mutta iso siit\u00e4 sukeusi, ja saatuamme sen vesille ja\nn\u00e4hty\u00e4mme sen kelluvan suorassa ja tukevasti olimme yht\u00e4 reippaalla\nmielell\u00e4 kuin olisimme toisissa oloissa olleet kelpo sotalaivassa.\nSe oli niin tavattoman tilava, ett\u00e4 kantoi meid\u00e4t kaikki ihan kepe\u00e4sti\nja viel\u00e4 saattoi n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti ottaa pari kolme tonnia matkatarpeita\nlis\u00e4lastikseen. Aloimmekin aprikoida, emmek\u00f6 pyrkisi suoraan meritse\nGoaan, mutta l\u00e4hemmin ajatellessamme huomasimme yrityksen sent\u00e4\u00e4n\nmahdottomaksi. Ruokavarojahan puuttui, ei ollut tynnyreit\u00e4 juomaveden\nottamiseksi, ei kompassia aluksemme ohjaamiseksi, ei suojaa aallokon\nhyrskeelt\u00e4, joka varmasti sy\u00f6ksisi meid\u00e4t haaksirikkoon, ei siimest\u00e4\nauringon paahteelta, ja niin muistui mieleen vastuksia, kunnes kaikki\nkernaasti taas yhtyiv\u00e4t minun suunnitelmaani, ett\u00e4 risteilisimme\nrannikolla katsomassa mit\u00e4 meille tarjoutuisi.\nL\u00e4ksimme huviksemme er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kaikki merelle kanootillamme, ja\nolimme v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4 saada kyll\u00e4mme koko hommasta noin puolentoista engl.\npenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n rannasta p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4mme. Sattui n\u00e4et k\u00e4ym\u00e4\u00e4n jokseenkin\nkorkea maininki, vaikka tuulta ei tuntunut juuri nimeksik\u00e4\u00e4n, ja\naluksemme kiikkui laineilla niin vaapperasti, ett\u00e4 odotimme sen mill\u00e4\nhetkell\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 keikahtavan kumoon. Meid\u00e4n oli kaikin voimin pyritt\u00e4v\u00e4\nlikemm\u00e4 rantaa, ja ohjaillen sit\u00e4 taitavasti saimme sen kulkemaan\ntukevammin, sittekin joutuen ponnistelemaan aika lailla, ennen kuin\nolimme maissa j\u00e4lleen.\nYritys masensi mieli\u00e4, ja taaskin olimme ymm\u00e4ll\u00e4 mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4.\nAlkuasukkaat olivat kohteliaita kyll\u00e4kin ja pist\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t useasti\npuhelemaan kanssamme. Kerran he toivat mukanaan henkil\u00f6n, jolle\nosottivat kuninkaallista kunnioitusta, ja pystyttiv\u00e4t meid\u00e4n\nv\u00e4lisellemme taipaleelle pitk\u00e4n salon, jonka yl\u00e4osassa riippui iso,\nsimpukankuorilla, messinkipalasilla ja muilla helyill\u00e4 koristeltu\nkarvatupsu; t\u00e4m\u00e4n k\u00e4sitimme yst\u00e4vyyden merkiksi. Heill\u00e4 oli tuomisina\nyllinkyllin ruokavaroja, karjaa, lintuja, yrttej\u00e4 ja juuria, mutta\nmeid\u00e4n keskess\u00e4mme oli t\u00e4ydellinen h\u00e4mmennys vallalla, meill\u00e4, kun ei\nollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n mill\u00e4 vaihtaa tai ostaa, eik\u00e4 heill\u00e4 n\u00e4kynyt en\u00e4\u00e4 olevan\nv\u00e4hint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n halua antaa mit\u00e4\u00e4n ilmaiseksi.\nKesken neuvottelumme ponnahti \u00e4kki\u00e4 er\u00e4s aikoinaan veitsisepp\u00e4n\u00e4\nty\u00f6skennellyt mies jaloilleen ja kys\u00e4si puusep\u00e4lt\u00e4, l\u00f6yt\u00e4isik\u00f6 t\u00e4m\u00e4\nmist\u00e4\u00e4n kompeistansa viilaa.\n\"Kyll\u00e4\", vastasi puusepp\u00e4, \"mutta pieni se on.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 pienempi sen parempi\", tuumi toinen. H\u00e4n ryhtyi ty\u00f6h\u00f6n,\nkuumensi ensin tulessa vanhan taltan p\u00e4tk\u00e4n ja valmisti viilansa\navulla useanlaisia ty\u00f6kaluja hommalleen. Sitte h\u00e4n otti kolme, nelj\u00e4\nhopeakolikkoa ja takoi ne vasaralla kive\u00e4 vasten hyvin leveiksi ja\nohuiksi. N\u00e4ist\u00e4 h\u00e4n leikkasi lintuja ja petoja, teki pikku ketjuja\nniist\u00e4 rannerenkaiksi ja kaulanauhoiksi, ja k\u00e4ytteli kekseli\u00e4isyytt\u00e4\u00e4n\nmit\u00e4 vaihtelevimmalla tavalla.\nH\u00e4nen uurastettuansa parin viikon ajan me koetimme h\u00e4nen neronsa\ntehoa. Kun villej\u00e4 taas kokoontui ymp\u00e4rillemme, saimme n\u00e4hd\u00e4 kuinka\nlapsellisia he olivat. Pienest\u00e4 linnun muotoiseksi leikatusta\nhopeapalasesta saimme kaksi lehm\u00e4\u00e4, ja se olisi ollut viel\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n\narvoinen, jos se olisi ollut messinki\u00e4. Samaan tapaan kaikki muutkin\npikku lelut, jotka eiv\u00e4t olleet rahakolikkoina mit\u00e4\u00e4n merkinneet,\nsaivat suhdattoman arvon ja pystyiv\u00e4t hankkimaan kaikki tarpeemme.\nSiihen tapaan elimme vuoden verran, mutta aloimme jo kaikki kovasti\nkyll\u00e4sty\u00e4 ja p\u00e4\u00e4timme ehdottomasti hakea pelastusta, k\u00e4vi miten k\u00e4vi.\nOlimme varustautuneet kerrassaan kolmella varsin hyv\u00e4ll\u00e4 kanootilla;\nja kun monsuunituulet yleens\u00e4 koskettelevat t\u00e4t\u00e4 maata, puhaltaen\nuseimmissa paikoin saarta kuusi kuukautta vuodesta yht\u00e4\u00e4nne p\u00e4in ja\ntoiset kuusi toisaanne, niin p\u00e4\u00e4ttelimme voivamme sovittaa matkamme\nonnelliseksi.\nHyv\u00e4ksi onneksemme oli er\u00e4s meist\u00e4 ollut kokin apulaisena; h\u00e4n osasi\ns\u00e4ilytt\u00e4\u00e4 lihaa ilman tynnyri\u00e4 ja h\u00f6ysteit\u00e4. T\u00e4m\u00e4n h\u00e4n sai aikaan\nkuivaamalla lihan auringon paisteessa salpietarin avulla, jota saarella\noli ylt\u00e4kyllin, ja meill\u00e4 oli jo ennen lopullisen p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6ksemme tekoa\nkuivattuna kuuden, seitsem\u00e4n lehm\u00e4n ja mullin sek\u00e4 kymmenkunnan vuohen\nlihat. Ne maistuivat niin hyv\u00e4lt\u00e4, ettemme koskaan huolineet keitt\u00e4\u00e4\nsellaista lihaa, vaan joko k\u00e4ristimme tai pureskelimme sellaisenaan.\nSiin\u00e4 siis keino saada riitt\u00e4v\u00e4sti ruokavaroja matkalle; mutta kauvan\nkesti, ennen kuin keksimme, miten saisimme talletetuksi hiukankin\nvett\u00e4 rannikkomatkaammekaan varten, mit\u00e4\u00e4n astioita kun ei meill\u00e4\nollut. Vihdoin puusepp\u00e4 huomasi erottaa yhden kanootin keski-osan\nvesis\u00e4ili\u00f6ksi, laittaen sen sein\u00e4t vedenpit\u00e4viksi ja varustaen sen\nkannella; siihen mahtui runsas h\u00e4rk\u00e4tynnyrillinen.\nSuunnitelma oli aluksi entinen: kaartaa pitkin rannikkoa ja katsastella\nparempaa alusta. Mutta puhetta oli my\u00f6s ollut siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kenties\nyritt\u00e4isimme sopivan tilaisuuden sattuessa viilett\u00e4\u00e4 salmen yli Afrikan\nmantereelle, sielt\u00e4 joko maitse tai meritse pyrki\u00e4ksemme Punaiselle\nMerelle, miss\u00e4 kyll\u00e4 laivoja n\u00e4kisimme. Siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4 valitsimme saaren\nsis\u00e4- eli l\u00e4nsirannan, miss\u00e4 ainakin er\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 kohdalta matka mantereelle\nei ole tavattoman pitk\u00e4, siin\u00e4 kun maa ulottuu kauvas luoteeseen.\nToivottomampaa matkaa tuskin lienee konsanaan tehty, me kun l\u00e4ksimme\nsille puolelle saarta, miss\u00e4 muiden kansojen laivoja ei k\u00e4y.\nKumpaiseenkin isoon periguaamme olimme saaneet maston ja purjeen,\nkolmatta meloimme sik\u00e4li kuin parhaiten taisimme, kovalla s\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nhinaten sit\u00e4 per\u00e4ss\u00e4. Useampaan p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n emme havainneet mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nmerkitt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4. Alkuasukkaita n\u00e4imme pikku kanooteillaan kalanpyynniss\u00e4 ja\nkoetimme toisinaan p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 heit\u00e4 puhuttelemaan, mutta he karkasivat heti\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4en rantaan, kun huomasivat aikomuksemme. Viimein er\u00e4s meist\u00e4\nmuisti saaren etel\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 k\u00e4ytetyn rauhanmerkin, ja niinp\u00e4 seuraavalla\nkerralla pystytimme purjeettomaan kanoottiimme seip\u00e4\u00e4n, soutaessamme\nkalastajia kohti. N\u00e4m\u00e4 eiv\u00e4t nyt osottaneet mit\u00e4\u00e4n rauhattomuutta, vaan\nl\u00e4hetess\u00e4mme meloivat meit\u00e4 kohti. He tuntuivat olevan hyvin mieliss\u00e4\u00e4n\nja antoivat meille useita isoja, tuntemattomia kaloja, jotka olivat\nhyvin maukkaita. Taiturimme antoi heille kaksi pient\u00e4 reij\u00e4llist\u00e4\nvinokulmioiksi leikattua hopealevy\u00e4, ja vastalahja oli heist\u00e4 niin\nsuuri, ett\u00e4 he panivat meid\u00e4t odottamaan kunnes olivat taas heitt\u00e4neet\nveteen siimansa ja verkkonsa, jolloin saimme kaloja niin paljon kuin\nviitsimme mukaamme ottaa.\nKaiken aikaa tarkastelimme visusti heid\u00e4n veneit\u00e4ns\u00e4, n\u00e4hd\u00e4ksemme\nkelpaisiko ainoakaan niist\u00e4 meille; mutta ne olivat kehnoja kojeita.\nJatkoimme retkeily\u00e4mme pohjoista kohti kaksitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 yhteen\nmenoon, pysytellen l\u00e4hell\u00e4 rannikkoa; ja kun tuuli puhalteli id\u00e4st\u00e4 ja\nit\u00e4kaakosta, niin oli vauhtimme aika hyv\u00e4. Emme n\u00e4hneet rannalla mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nkaupunkeja, mutta useastikin vesirajassa kallioilla m\u00f6kkej\u00e4, joista\nv\u00e4ke\u00e4 parveili tuijottelemaan meit\u00e4.\nOmituinen oli retkemme; olimme kolmialuksinen laivue, jossa majaili\nl\u00e4hes kolmekymmenhenkinen armeija niin vaarallisia miehi\u00e4 kuin he\nolivat konsanaan n\u00e4hneet; ja jos he olisivat tienneet mit\u00e4 me olimme,\nniin kyll\u00e4p\u00e4 olisivat mit\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 antaneet meist\u00e4 eroon p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksens\u00e4.\nMutta olimmepa toiselta puolen niin viheli\u00e4isess\u00e4 mielentilassa kuin\nluonteemme saattoi tuntea, sill\u00e4 matkamme ei ollut mik\u00e4\u00e4n matka, olimme\nmenossa jonnekin emmek\u00e4 minnek\u00e4\u00e4n, tiet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 mit\u00e4 oikein tehd\u00e4, vaikka\nyht\u00e4 ja toista aikoilimme.\nMatkan joutuessa alkoi kuumuus k\u00e4yd\u00e4 siet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4ksi, kaiken siimeksen\npuutteessa kun olimme. Oli lokakuu tai niill\u00e4 vaikein; ja samalla kun\nme p\u00e4iv\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4lt\u00e4 l\u00e4henimme aurinkoa, l\u00e4heni sekin meit\u00e4, kunnes olimme\n20. leveys-asteen vaiheilla ja tiesimme viiden tai kuuden vuorokauden\nkuluttaa p\u00e4iv\u00e4n polttelevan kohtisuoraan p\u00e4\u00e4mme p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4.\nT\u00e4t\u00e4 miettiess\u00e4mme p\u00e4\u00e4timme etsi\u00e4 hyv\u00e4\u00e4 maallenousupaikkaa,\nleiriyty\u00e4ksemme suojaan pahimmalta hellekaudelta; eik\u00e4 meill\u00e4\nsit\u00e4paitsi en\u00e4\u00e4 ollut monen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n muonavarojakaan j\u00e4ljell\u00e4. Olimme\nehtineet suunnilleen puoliv\u00e4liin saaren pituutta ja l\u00e4henimme sit\u00e4\nkohtaa, josta rannikko luoteeseen pist\u00e4ytyen lyhent\u00e4isi v\u00e4limatkan\nAfrikan rannikolle kenties 360 engl. penikulmaksi, kuten me\narvioitsimme.\nPurjehdittuamme kuuden vuorokauden verran pohjoisluoteeseen p\u00e4in\nnavakalla kaakkoistuulella, huomasimme hyvin kaukana valtaisen\nulkoneman eli niemekkeen, joka pist\u00e4ysi kauvas mereen. Meid\u00e4n teki\nkovasti mieli n\u00e4hd\u00e4 mit\u00e4 niemen takana oli, ja p\u00e4\u00e4timme kiert\u00e4\u00e4 sen\nennen kuin asettuisimme satamaan. Pidimme siis suuntamme, mutta tuulen\npysyess\u00e4 yht\u00e4 voimakkaana kesti viel\u00e4 nelj\u00e4 vuorokautta, ennen kuin\nsaavutimme niemen. On mahdoton kuvata masennusta ja mielenkarvautta,\njoka meid\u00e4t kaikki perill\u00e4 valtasi, sill\u00e4 niemen nenitse viistetty\u00e4mme\nn\u00e4imme h\u00e4mm\u00e4stykseksemme rannikon vet\u00e4ytyv\u00e4n toiselle puolen yht\u00e4\npaljon sis\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in kuin t\u00e4lle puolen ulohtaalle, viel\u00e4p\u00e4 paljoa\nenemm\u00e4nkin. Jos siis tahdoimme yritt\u00e4\u00e4 Afrikaan, niin t\u00e4ytyi meid\u00e4n\nk\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4 t\u00e4st\u00e4, koska meri edemp\u00e4n\u00e4 vain laajeni ties kuinka leve\u00e4ksi.\nHavaintoamme punnitessamme yll\u00e4tti meid\u00e4t mit\u00e4 ankarin rajus\u00e4\u00e4\nukkosenpurkauksineen ja rankkasateineen. H\u00e4d\u00e4ss\u00e4mme viiletimme rantaan,\nja niemekkeen taakse alle tuulen suunnaten ohjasimme aluksemme pieneen\npuroon, jonka vierill\u00e4 n\u00e4imme kasvavan runsaasti puita, ja vilistimme\nkiireesti rantaan likom\u00e4rkin\u00e4 ja lopen uupuneina.\nAsemamme tuntui nyt per\u00e4ti surkealta, ja taiturimme pystytti yhden\nengl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 niemekkeest\u00e4 sijaitsevalle harjulle ristin,\njohon leikkasi portugalinkielell\u00e4 sanat:\n\"Ep\u00e4toivon niemi. Jeesus armahtakoon.\"\nK\u00e4vimme heti rakentamaan itsellemme m\u00f6kkej\u00e4 ja kuivaamaan vaatteitamme.\nVaikka olin nuori ja sellaisissa puuhissa k\u00f6mpel\u00f6, niin en koskaan\nunohda rakentamaamme pikku kaupunkia, sill\u00e4 sellainen se oli ja sen\nmukaisesti sen linnoitimmekin.\nLeirimme oli meren rannassa pienen puron etel\u00e4isell\u00e4 kaltaalla jyrk\u00e4n\nvuoren suojassa, joka oli tosin puron toisella puolella, mutta\nkuitenkin vain nelj\u00e4nnespenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 luoteessa, varjostaen meilt\u00e4\nkoko ehtoop\u00e4iv\u00e4auringon. Oksista ja n\u00e4reist\u00e4 punoimme kaksitoista\npikku majaa. Puro oli turvanamme pohjoisessa, pienempi siihen laskeva\nvesi-oja l\u00e4nness\u00e4, kun taasen etel\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja id\u00e4ss\u00e4 korkea \u00e4yr\u00e4s kokonaan\npeitti leirimme n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4. Kolme muuta m\u00f6kki\u00e4 oli melkoisen matkan\np\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 varsinaisen leirialueemme ulkopuolella. Yhdess\u00e4 niist\u00e4,\npienimm\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja et\u00e4isimm\u00e4ss\u00e4, talletimme ruutiamme; toisessa valmistimme\nruokamme ja s\u00e4ilytimme tarvekapineitamme; kolmas oli kaikista tilavin,\nja siell\u00e4 s\u00f6imme ateriamme, pidimme kokouksemme ja istuskelimme\njuttelemassa, vaikkakaan siihen aikaan ei totisesti ottanut puhe oikein\nsujuakseen.\nMeid\u00e4n oli ehdottomasti pakko ryhty\u00e4 v\u00e4leihin alkuasukkaiden kanssa.\nTaiturimme valmisti suuren m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n pikku hopeahelyj\u00e4, ja entiseen tapaan\nsaimme niill\u00e4 muonavaroja yllinkyllin. T\u00e4rkeint\u00e4 oli, ett\u00e4 saimme\nnoin viisikymment\u00e4 mustaa lehm\u00e4\u00e4 ja vuohta kokkimme kuivattavaksi\nja suureksi tulevaisuudenvarastoksemme s\u00e4ilytett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi. Varaaminen\nk\u00e4vikin helposti p\u00e4ins\u00e4, sill\u00e4 suola ja salpietari olivat hyv\u00e4\u00e4 lajia\nja aurinko poltteli tavattoman kuumasti. Nelisen kuukautta oleskelimme\nt\u00e4ss\u00e4 leiriss\u00e4mme.\nKOLMAS LUKU.\nMatka Afrikan mantereelle.\nEtel\u00e4inen p\u00e4iv\u00e4nseisaus oli kestetty, ja aurinko palannut\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajaan p\u00e4in, kun rupesimme suunnittelemaan seuraavata\nseikkailuamme, l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4 Afrikan mantereelle.\nAlkuasukkailta saimme ainoastaan sen verran selville, ett\u00e4 meren takana\noli avara leijonien asuttama maa, ja se hyvin kaukana, Tiesimmeh\u00e4n\nme itsekin sen kaukana olevan, mutta olimme kovin eri mielt\u00e4 matkan\npituudesta; toiset sen arvioittivat 450 meripenikulmaksi, toiset\nkorkeintaan kolmeksisadaksi, mutta yksi todisteli maailmankarttansa\nmittakaavalla, ettei se voinut olla yli kahdensadannelj\u00e4nkymmenen. Min\u00e4\npuolestani v\u00e4h\u00e4t v\u00e4litin siit\u00e4, oliko mantere kaukana vai l\u00e4hell\u00e4,\nl\u00e4ksimmek\u00f6 liikkeelle vai pysyimmek\u00f6 paikoillamme; minulla ei ollut\nkotia, ja koko maailma oli minulle yht\u00e4, joten miehet turhaan kyseliv\u00e4t\n\"Kapteeni Bobin\" mielt\u00e4.\nMuutamalta pienen pojan opastelemalta sokealta ukolta saimme kuulla,\nett\u00e4 jos yritt\u00e4isimme matkaa elokuun lopulla, niin saisimme olla varmat\nsiit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 tuuli pysyisi kaiken aikaa suotuisana ja meri rauhallisena.\nMutta miehi\u00e4 arvelutti viipyminen, syyst\u00e4 ett\u00e4 aurinko silloin\nj\u00e4lleen tekisi paluutansa etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti helteinens\u00e4. Monen monituiset\nneuvottelut lopulta johtivat p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6kseen, ett\u00e4 uskaltaisimme yli ulapan.\nJa me uskalsimme, j\u00e4rjett\u00f6m\u00e4sti kyll\u00e4kin, sill\u00e4 vuoden-aika oli\naivan sopimaton. Sik\u00e4l\u00e4iset tuulet nimitt\u00e4in pysyttelev\u00e4t id\u00e4n\nkulmilla, aina syyskuusta maaliskuuhun, joten ne yleens\u00e4 puhaltelevat\nl\u00e4nnest\u00e4 kaiken muun ajan vuodesta, siis suoraan vastaamme. Olimmekin\nsiis jonkunlaisella maatuulella p\u00e4\u00e4sseet vasta viitisenkymment\u00e4\nmeripenikulmaa ulohtaalle, sen verran ett\u00e4 olimme meriajolle joutuneet,\nkun havaitsimme navakan tuulen puuskuvan merelt\u00e4 p\u00e4in, l\u00e4nnest\u00e4,\nl\u00e4nsilounaasta tai lounasl\u00e4nnest\u00e4, kertaakaan k\u00e4\u00e4ntym\u00e4tt\u00e4 sen enemp\u00e4\u00e4\nsivulle.\nMeid\u00e4n aluksemme tapaisella ei k\u00e4ynyt luoviminen kylliksi tiukasti\ntuuleen; muutoin olisimme voineet viilett\u00e4\u00e4 pohjoiskoilliseen ja\nmatkallamme olisimme tavanneet joukon saaria, kuten j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in\nhuomasimme. Yritimme tosin, mutta siin\u00e4 uhkasi meit\u00e4 kaikkia tuho,\nsill\u00e4 painuessamme pohjoista p\u00e4in niin l\u00e4helt\u00e4 tuulta kuin suinkin,\nolimme unohtaneet itse Madagaskarin saaren muodon ja aseman. Saaren\nkeskikohdalta l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4mme kauvas mereen ulottuvalta niemimaalta ja\nnyt toista sataa meripenikulmaa pohjoisemmaksi edetty\u00e4mme jouduimme\nsaaren rannikon j\u00e4lleen it\u00e4\u00e4 kohti k\u00e4\u00e4ntyess\u00e4 avaralle merelle, noin\nkolmensadan meripenikulman vaiheille kumpaisestakin rannikosta.\nEi ollut muuta neuvoksi kuin py\u00f6rt\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4ysin purjein l\u00e4nsituulen\nkiid\u00e4tt\u00e4min\u00e4 taivaisin Madagaskaria kohti, ottaen pienimm\u00e4n kanoottimme\nhinattavaksi. T\u00e4m\u00e4 oli kamalaa uhkapeli\u00e4, sill\u00e4 pieninkin vihurinpuuska\nolisi meid\u00e4t kaikki hukuttanut, kanoottimme kun kulkivat syv\u00e4ss\u00e4\neiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 olisi kest\u00e4neet ankarampaa aallokkoa.\nT\u00e4t\u00e4 matkaa kesti kaikkiaan yksitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Meilt\u00e4 alkoi jo\nruokavarat loppua, eik\u00e4 ollut pisaraakaan vett\u00e4 j\u00e4ljell\u00e4, kun\nvihdoinkin suureksi iloksemme n\u00e4imme maata, vaikkakin vasta\nkolmisenkymmenen meripenikulman takana. Mutta samalla alkoi maatuulikin\npuhallella vastaamme, ja meilt\u00e4 meni kaksi siet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4n helteist\u00e4\nvuorokautta ennen kuin p\u00e4\u00e4simme maihin, janomme ainoana lievikkeen\u00e4\nmuutamia matkaan tulleita lik\u00f6\u00f6rin t\u00e4hteit\u00e4.\nSeikkailumme opetti meille, mik\u00e4 olisi koitunut kohtaloksemme, jos\nolisimme l\u00e4hteneet ulapalle heikolla tuulella ja ep\u00e4vakaisella\ns\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4. Se kukisti kerrassaan aikeet yritell\u00e4 meren yli ainakaan\nmoisilla aluksilla. Leiriydyimme siis maihin kuten ennenkin ja niin\nmukavasti kuin osasimme, varustaen itsemme rynn\u00e4kk\u00f6jen varalle;\nmutta alkuasukkaat olivat siell\u00e4 p\u00e4in erinomaisen s\u00e4yseit\u00e4 ja paljoa\nkohteliaampia kuin saaren etel\u00e4osassa.\nSaimme heti osotuksen heid\u00e4n yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyydest\u00e4\u00e4n. Niin pian kuin he\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t meid\u00e4n k\u00e4yv\u00e4n majoittumaan rannalle saapui luoksemme joku\nheid\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6ns\u00e4, mukanaan viisi, kuusi miest\u00e4 ja joitakuita naisia,\ntuoden meille viisi vuohta ja kaksi lihavaa mullia, jotka antoi\nilmaiseksi. Jos tarjosimme heille jotakin, niin p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6 ei antanut\nkenenk\u00e4\u00e4n seurueestaan koskeakaan mihink\u00e4\u00e4n. Pari tuntia j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in\nilmestyi toinen p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6, ja t\u00e4ll\u00e4 oli nelj\u00e4- tai viisikymment\u00e4 miest\u00e4\nsaattueenansa. Me k\u00e4vimme jo k\u00e4siksi aseihimme, jolloin toinen alkoi\nrauhan merkiksi kannatuttaa kahdella miehell\u00e4 pitki\u00e4 seip\u00e4it\u00e4 edell\u00e4\u00e4n\nkorkealla pystyss\u00e4. Seip\u00e4\u00e4t pystytettiin sitte maahan ja joukko iski\nkeih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 niiden taakse, j\u00e4tt\u00e4en sinne jousensakin, niin ett\u00e4 he\nloppumatkan l\u00e4heniv\u00e4t aseettomina.\nKun p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6 n\u00e4ki muutamien miestemme jokseenkin k\u00f6mpel\u00f6sti\nrakentelevan m\u00f6kkej\u00e4\u00e4n, niin h\u00e4n viittasi omaa v\u00e4ke\u00e4ns\u00e4 k\u00e4ym\u00e4\u00e4n\napuumme. Puolitoistakymment\u00e4 villi\u00e4 ryhtyi heti t\u00f6ihimme osallisiksi,\nja parempia ty\u00f6miehi\u00e4 he olivatkin kuin me, sill\u00e4 he kyh\u00e4siv\u00e4t kolme\ntai nelj\u00e4 majaa tuossa tuokiossa, sommitellen ne paljoa taidokkaammin\nkuin me olimme osanneet.\nSenj\u00e4lkeen he l\u00e4hettiv\u00e4t meille maitoa, pisangeja, kurpitsoita sek\u00e4\nyllinkyllin juuria ja kasviksia, jotka maistuivat mainiosti, huolimatta\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n vastalahjaksi. P\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6 sent\u00e4\u00e4n kulautti er\u00e4\u00e4n miehemme\ntarjoaman ryypyn ja oli siit\u00e4 niin hyvill\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle kelpasi\ntoinenkin; h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi sitte melkein s\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6llisesti pari kertaa viikossa\nvieraanamme, aina tuoden jotakin hyv\u00e4\u00e4 mukanaan. Kerran h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti\nmeille seitsem\u00e4n mustaa juhtaa, joista me entiseen tapaan valmistimme\njoitakuita kuivatuiksi lihoiksi.\nT\u00e4ss\u00e4 johtuu mieleeni er\u00e4s seikka, josta meill\u00e4 oli ajan mittaan suurta\nhy\u00f6ty\u00e4. Heid\u00e4n karjansa ja etenkin vuohiensa liha oli valmistettuna ja\nkuivattuna punaista ja tukevaa, kuten hollantilainen kuivaliha, ja se\noli villeille niin oivallista herkkua, ett\u00e4 he olivat makuun p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ns\u00e4\naina valmiit vaihtokauppaan siit\u00e4, aavistamattakaan mit\u00e4 se oli.\nKymmenkunta naulaa savustettua lihaa vastasi siten kokonaista mullia\ntai lehm\u00e4\u00e4, tai mit\u00e4 vain mielemme teki.\nHavaitsimme ett\u00e4 n\u00e4ill\u00e4 villeill\u00e4 oli melkoiset m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t saviastioita,\njoita he k\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t moneen samanlaiseen tarkotukseen kuin mekin;\nerityisesti oli heill\u00e4 pitki\u00e4 savikirnuja, joita vajotettiin maahan\nvesis\u00e4ili\u00f6iksi, n\u00e4iss\u00e4 kun juomavesi siten pysyi viile\u00e4n\u00e4 ja raittiina.\nToisekseen huomasimme heid\u00e4n kanoottinsa isommiksi kuin naapurien, ja\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 sai meid\u00e4t utelemaan, oliko heill\u00e4 tai muilla asukkailla kenties\nviel\u00e4 isompiakin. He ilmaisivat merkeill\u00e4, ett\u00e4 saaren toisella\npuolella kyll\u00e4 oli isompia aluksia, kannellisia ja isoilla purjeilla\nvarustettuja, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 se sai meid\u00e4t p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n purjehtia pitkin\nrannikkoa koko saaren ymp\u00e4ri niit\u00e4 katsomaan.\nValmistausimme matkaan, ja niinp\u00e4 l\u00e4ksimme merelle kolmannen kerran.\nPurjehdustamme kesti puolisentoista kuukautta, nyt pohjoisk\u00e4rjest\u00e4\nit\u00e4ist\u00e4 rantaa my\u00f6ten, kuten olimme aikaisemmin purjehtineet l\u00e4ntist\u00e4\nrannikkoa pitkin pohjoiseen. Useat kerrat poikkesimme maihin hankkimaan\njuomavett\u00e4 ja ruokavaroja; alkuasukkaat k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t kaikkialla\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti. He eiv\u00e4t miss\u00e4\u00e4n muistaakseni suurestikaan eronneet\ntoisistaan ruumiinrakenteeltaan tai v\u00e4rilt\u00e4\u00e4n, tavoiltaan, aseiltaan\ntai muissakaan suhteissa, mutta emme kuitenkaan huomanneet heimojen\ntiet\u00e4v\u00e4n toisistaan.\nLopulta kaartaessamme niemekkeen, joka pist\u00e4ysi meripenikulman verran\nulommaksi kuin muut, osui silmiimme n\u00e4ky, joka oli ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 ollut\nyht\u00e4 ik\u00e4v\u00e4 asianomaisille kuin se oli mieluisa meille: europalaisen\nlaivan hylky, joka oli paiskautunut kauvas merelle ulottuvaan\nkivimatalikkoon.\nMatalalla vedell\u00e4 oli iso osa laivasta kuivilla, eik\u00e4 sit\u00e4\nnousuvesik\u00e4\u00e4n kokonaan peitt\u00e4nyt; se oli enint\u00e4\u00e4n meripenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\nrannasta. Uteliaisuutemme tietysti vei meid\u00e4t suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 sen luokse,\nkun tuuli ja s\u00e4\u00e4 olivat suotuisat. Laiva oli hollantilaista tekoa\neik\u00e4 hylkyn\u00e4 kovinkaan vanha, sill\u00e4 per\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4n yl\u00e4osa oli enimm\u00e4kseen\npysynyt lujana ja mesaanimastokin t\u00f6rr\u00f6tti viel\u00e4 pystyss\u00e4. Per\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4\nn\u00e4ytti sulloutuneen kahden kallioriutan rakoon ja siten s\u00e4ilyneen, kun\nsit\u00e4vastoin koko keulapuoli oli hakkautunut pirstaleiksi.\nEmme n\u00e4hneet hylyss\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n korjaamisen arvoista, mutta p\u00e4\u00e4timme\npoiketa maihin ja viipy\u00e4 l\u00e4hitienoolla jonkun aikaa, n\u00e4hd\u00e4ksemme\nolisiko mit\u00e4\u00e4n vihi\u00e4 saatavissa sen kohtalosta. Saattaisimmehan kuulla\nlaivan miehist\u00f6st\u00e4 jotakin, ehk\u00e4p\u00e4 tavata joitakuita haaksirikkoisia\nrannaltakin samassa tilassa kuin itsekin olimme, siten lis\u00e4t\u00e4ksemme\nlukuamme.\nIloksemme n\u00e4imme rantaan tullessamme kaikkia merkkej\u00e4 ja j\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6ksi\u00e4\nlaiva-kirvesmiehen telakasta, kuten nosto-vipukiekan ja laskujalaksia,\ntelineit\u00e4 ja lankkuja sek\u00e4 lankunp\u00e4tki\u00e4 -- laivanrakennuksesta j\u00e4\u00e4neit\u00e4\nrippeit\u00e4, sanalla sanoen ison joukon kapistuksia, jotka suorastaan\nkutsuivat meit\u00e4 ryhtym\u00e4\u00e4n samanlaiseen ty\u00f6h\u00f6n. Haaksirikkoiset olivat\nsiis veneell\u00e4\u00e4n pelastuneet maihin ja rakentaneet kuunarin tai\nkutterin, siten p\u00e4\u00e4sten merelle j\u00e4lleen. Kyselimme alkuasukkailta,\nminne p\u00e4in he olivat l\u00e4hteneet, ja he viittil\u00f6iv\u00e4t etel\u00e4\u00e4n ja\nlounaaseen, mist\u00e4 helposti k\u00e4sitimme matkan m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ksi Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemen.\nNyt k\u00e4vimme uudella innolla aluksen rakentamiseen k\u00e4siksi. Kaksi\nkirvesmiest\u00e4mme nuuskivat esille kaikki hollantilaisten j\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4t\nk\u00e4ytt\u00f6kelpoiset ainekset, ja yksi niist\u00e4, varsin hy\u00f6dyllinen, antoi\nminulle paljon askartelua, nimitt\u00e4in pikipata, jossa oli viel\u00e4 jonkun\nverran pike\u00e4kin tallella. Ty\u00f6n edistyess\u00e4 jouduimme pulailemaan sen\nsuunnattomissa vastuksissa, meill\u00e4 kun oli vain harvoja ty\u00f6kaluja,\neik\u00e4 ollenkaan rautatavaraa, ei k\u00f6ysi\u00e4, ei purjeita. Meid\u00e4n oli oltava\nomia seppi\u00e4mme, k\u00f6ydenpunojiamme, purjeidentekij\u00f6it\u00e4mme, harjottaen\npariakymment\u00e4 ammattia, joista tiesimme v\u00e4h\u00e4n tai emme mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Mutta\npakko kannusti kekseli\u00e4isyytt\u00e4, ja me suoriuduimme monesta teht\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4,\njoita olimme ajatelleet meid\u00e4n oloissamme mahdottomiksi.\nKirvesmiesten sovittua aluksen mittasuhteista me aluksi jouduimme\nveneill\u00e4mme hy\u00f6rim\u00e4\u00e4n laivanhylky\u00e4 pirstomassa, siit\u00e4 kun oli tuotava\nrakennuspuuhaan kaikki mit\u00e4 irti saatiin. Suurin ponnistuksin saimme\nkorjatuksi mesaanimaston, kun nelj\u00e4toista miest\u00e4 siihen urakkaan\nk\u00e4ytti kolmen viikon ajan. Samalla saimme talteen melkoisen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n\nrautatavaraa, kuten vaajoja, vaarnoja, nauloja ja muuta sellaista,\nmink\u00e4 nyttemmin n\u00e4pp\u00e4r\u00e4ksi sep\u00e4ksi kehittynyt taiteilijamme muovaili\ntarvituiksi v\u00e4likappaleiksi aina per\u00e4simensaranoita my\u00f6ten.\nAnkkuri meilt\u00e4 puuttui, ja me tyydyimme alkuasukasten avulla punomaan\nheid\u00e4n mattoaineksistansa joitakuita k\u00f6ysi\u00e4, joista saimme laivamme\nrantaansitomiseksi v\u00e4ltt\u00e4v\u00e4n touvin. Kaikkiaan kului uuraaseen\naherteluumme nelj\u00e4 kuukautta, kunnes laskimme vesille tekeleemme. Se\noli jonkunlainen kahdeksantoista tai kahdenkymmenen tonnin vetoinen\npursi, ja jos meill\u00e4 olisi ollut sellaiseen tarvittava taklaasi\n[taklaasi on kaikki mik\u00e4 laivassa kohoaa laidan yl\u00e4puolelle], niin\nolisimme voineet pyrki\u00e4 minne mieli teki. Mutta tukalimpana puutteena\noli se, ett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 ei ollut tervaa eik\u00e4 pike\u00e4 saumojen tilkkeeksi, ja\nvaikka parhaamme mukaan k\u00e4yttelimme talin ja \u00f6ljyn sekotusta, niin emme\nkunnolleen selvinneet pulmasta. Vesille laskettuna oli aluksemme niin\nhatara, ett\u00e4 jo pelk\u00e4simme kaiken vaivann\u00e4k\u00f6mme menneen tyhjiin, sit\u00e4\nkun oli pula ehk\u00e4ist\u00e4 t\u00e4yttym\u00e4st\u00e4 vedell\u00e4; pumppujakaan ei ollut, eik\u00e4\nkeinoa sellaisten valmistamiseen.\nMutta vihdoin muuan musta mies osotti meille puulajin, josta\npolttamalla kihoilee yht\u00e4 tahmaista ja melkein yht\u00e4 lujaa nestett\u00e4 kuin\nterva. Keitt\u00e4m\u00e4ll\u00e4 saimme siit\u00e4 pien sijaisen ja p\u00e4\u00e4simme tarkotuksemme\nperille, sill\u00e4 sen avulla saimme laivan t\u00e4ydellisesti vedenpit\u00e4v\u00e4ksi.\nSe keino auttoi minua sittemmin monena kertana samoilla seuduilla.\nLaivamme lopullisia valmistuksia olivat mesaanimaston pystytt\u00e4minen\nsille tukevaksi mastopuuksi, vanhojen purjeittemme sovitteleminen\nparhaamme mukaan sek\u00e4 per\u00e4simen veist\u00e4minen. Otimme mukaan ruokavaroja\nja vett\u00e4 niin paljon kuin luulimme tarvitsevamme, ja niin l\u00e4ksimme\nsuotuisalla tuulella merelle.\nOlimme kuluttaneet l\u00e4himain toisen vuoden noihin harhailuihin ja t\u00e4h\u00e4n\nrakentelupuuhaan, sill\u00e4 miehet laskivat joutuneemme helmikuun alkuun\nja aurinko loittoni v\u00e4hin erin luotamme, hyv\u00e4 kyll\u00e4, sill\u00e4, kuumuus\noli kovin rasittanut meit\u00e4. Matkan suunnasta olimme olleet aivan\nep\u00e4tietoisia. Jotkut olivat tahtoneet yritett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi suoraan it\u00e4\u00e4 kohti\nMalabarin rannikolle, mutta toiset olivat vakavammin pohtineet matkan\npituutta ja huomautelleet, ettei aluksemme asu ja sen ruokavaroille ja\njuomavedelle my\u00f6nt\u00e4m\u00e4t mahdollisuudet soveltuneet 2000 engl. penikulman\ntaipaleelle. Sit\u00e4paitsi ei vuoden-aikakaan sallinut sit\u00e4 suuntaa, sill\u00e4\nauringon edetess\u00e4 pohjoiseen p\u00e4in pysyttelev\u00e4t tuulet parhaasta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\nid\u00e4n tienoilla; olisi siten ollut odotettava huhti- tai toukokuuhun.\nVihdoin, tuulen ollessa kaakossa ja it\u00e4kaakossa, me kaikki yhdyimme\nentiseen suunnitelmaamme, Afrikan manteretta tavottamaan. Monet olivat\nkaiken aikaa vakuutelleet, ett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 oli mantereella kunnollinen\ntulevaisuuden, jopa rikastumisenkin mahdollisuus, menimmep\u00e4 mille\nsuunnalle tahansa, meritse tai maitse, miss\u00e4 vain etenem\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme.\nPohjoiseen purjehtien me j\u00e4lleen kiersimme saaren k\u00e4rjen ja k\u00e4\u00e4nnyimme\nrannikon suojassa etel\u00e4\u00e4n, aikoen tavottaa sen l\u00e4ntisimm\u00e4n niemekkeen,\nentisen l\u00e4ht\u00f6kohtamme. Mutta noin yhdeks\u00e4nkymment\u00e4 meripenikulmaa sit\u00e4\nsuuntaa purjehdittuamme k\u00e4viv\u00e4t tuulet ep\u00e4vakaisiksi ja puhaltelivat\nsuoraan vastaamme. Meid\u00e4n oli siis k\u00e4\u00e4ntyminen kulkemaan jo siit\u00e4\nyli ulapan, jotta tuuli olisi suotuinen, sill\u00e4 aluksemme oli kehno\npyrkim\u00e4\u00e4n liki tuulta tai kulkemaan oikeastaan mill\u00e4\u00e4n muulla kuin\nper\u00e4ntakaisella.\nVarustausimme maissa uusilla vesi- ja muonavaroilla, ja maaliskuun\nlopulla k\u00e4\u00e4nsimme keulamme Afrikan manteretta kohti, osottaen enemm\u00e4n\nuskallusta kuin j\u00e4rke\u00e4, enemm\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4isyytt\u00e4 kuin harkintaa. Mutta\nkun tuuli pysytteli kaakossa ja it\u00e4kaakossa, niin katsoimme parhaaksi\nsuunnaksemme k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 pelkk\u00e4\u00e4 my\u00f6t\u00e4tuulta kompassinamme, siten soluen\nl\u00e4nsikoillista kohti; varsinaista kompassia ei matkassamme ollutkaan\nmuuta kuin er\u00e4\u00e4n miehen pieni messinkinen taskukompassi.\nMatka oli paljoa pitempi kuin olimme luulleet, ja laivamme oli\npikku purje-pahasiensa vuoksi hyvin hidaskulkuinen sek\u00e4 muutenkin\nrakenteeltaan raskas. Emme koko aikana n\u00e4hneet mink\u00e4\u00e4nmoista alusta,\nse meri kun on kokonaan kauppateist\u00e4 syrj\u00e4ss\u00e4. Kahdeksan tai yhdeks\u00e4n\nvuorokautta purjehdittuamme kajautti yksi miehist\u00e4mme ilosanoman:\n\"Maa!\" Meill\u00e4 oli syyt\u00e4 riemuita, sill\u00e4 vett\u00e4 oli s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4enkin en\u00e4\u00e4\npariksi kolmeksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi. Mutta vaikka se n\u00e4htiin aikaisin aamulla,\nkesti perilletulo iltah\u00e4myyn, sill\u00e4 tuuli heikkeni melkein tyveneksi,\nja aluksemme, kuten sanottu, oli k\u00f6mpel\u00f6 purjehtija.\nMurheellinen \u00e4llistys valtasi meid\u00e4t, kun huomasimme mantereen sijasta\nsaavuttaneemme pienen saaren, jolla ei n\u00e4kynyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n asukkaita eik\u00e4\nkarjaa muuta kuin joitakuita vuohia, joista tapoimme ainoastaan kolme.\nMutta l\u00e4htih\u00e4n niist\u00e4kin tuoretta lihaa, ja me l\u00f6ysimme hyvin maukasta\njuomavett\u00e4. Vasta viisitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 viel\u00e4 purjehdittuamme p\u00e4\u00e4simme\nmantereelle, ja se tapahtuikin ruokavarojemme puolesta viime hetkess\u00e4,\nniin ett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 oli viimeisen\u00e4 kahtena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ollut vain kortteli\nvett\u00e4 miest\u00e4 kohti p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4. Mutta sanomattomaksi riemuksemme n\u00e4imme\nedellisen\u00e4 iltana maata, joskin hyvin et\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, ja pirte\u00e4 tuuli ty\u00f6nteli\nmeid\u00e4t aamuksi kahden meripenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n rannasta.\nEmme siekailleet astua maihin ensim\u00e4isess\u00e4 kohdassa mihin osuimme,\nvaikka olisimme pikku k\u00e4rsiv\u00e4llisyytt\u00e4 noudattaen l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet hiukan\npohjoisemmasta hyvin mukavan jokisuun. Kiinnitimme aluksemme\nkahteen isoon salkoon, jotka iskimme maahan, ja katseltuamme tovin\nymp\u00e4rist\u00f6\u00e4mme, hankittuamme hiukan vett\u00e4 ja ker\u00e4tty\u00e4mme muonavarojakin,\njoita n\u00e4kyi siin\u00e4 paikassa olevan kovin niukasti saatavissa, palasimme\nlaivaan varastoinemme. Saaliinamme oli kaiken kaikkiaan moniaita\nlintuja ja hyvin pieni, mutta hyv\u00e4nmakuinen puhvelihieho. P\u00e4\u00e4timme\npurjehtia pitkin rannikkoa kunnes tapaisimme jonkun puron taikka joen,\njota my\u00f6ten voisimme viilett\u00e4\u00e4 sis\u00e4maahan, tai kaupungin taikkapa\nkyl\u00e4n. Seudun kyll\u00e4 tiesimme asutuksi, sill\u00e4 monessa kohti n\u00e4imme y\u00f6ll\u00e4\ntulta ja p\u00e4iv\u00e4ll\u00e4 savua kaukana joka suunnalla.\nLopulta saavuimme hyvin avaralle lahdelle, johon laski useita pikku\njokia. Rohkeasti ohjasimme aluksemme ensim\u00e4iseen suistoon; n\u00e4hdess\u00e4mme\nrannalla muutamia h\u00f6kkeleit\u00e4 ja niiden ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 ihmisi\u00e4 purjehdimme\npieneen poukamaan joen pohjoisrannalle ja kohotimme rauhan merkiksi\npitk\u00e4n seip\u00e4\u00e4n, jonka nokkaan olimme sitoneet valkean kangaskaistaleen.\nHuomasimme heid\u00e4n oivaltavan tarkotuksemme, sill\u00e4 luoksemme parveili\nmiehi\u00e4, naisia ja lapsia, kaikki ilkosen alastomia.\nEnsim\u00e4lt\u00e4 he vain kummissaan \u00e4llisteliv\u00e4t meit\u00e4 kuin pelj\u00e4tt\u00e4vi\u00e4\nkummituksia, mutta olivat kyll\u00e4 sitte my\u00f6hemmin taipuvaisia\ntuttavallisuuteen. Alustavaksi kokeeksi osotimme merkeill\u00e4, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n\noli jano. Kolme naista ja kaksi poikaa juoksi piankin sis\u00e4maahan\np\u00e4in, palaten muutaman minuutin kuluttua, mukanansa useita n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti\nauringonhelteess\u00e4 paahdettuja saviruukkuja. N\u00e4m\u00e4 olivat vett\u00e4 t\u00e4ynn\u00e4,\nja asetettuaan ne rannalle he per\u00e4ytyiv\u00e4t hiukan, jotta me voisimme\nnoutaa ne, kuten teimmekin.\nTuokion kuluttua he toivat meille juuria ja yrttej\u00e4 sek\u00e4 muutamia\nhedelmi\u00e4, joiden laatua en en\u00e4\u00e4 muista; mutta kun meill\u00e4 ei ollut\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n antamista vastavuoroon, niin saimmekin huomata heid\u00e4t\ns\u00e4\u00e4steli\u00e4\u00e4mmiksi kuin madagaskarilaiset olivat olleet. Sepp\u00e4taiturimme\nryhtyi nyt ty\u00f6h\u00f6n, ja kun h\u00e4n oli laivahylyst\u00e4 varannut itselleen\nrautaromua, niin l\u00e4hti h\u00e4nen k\u00e4sist\u00e4\u00e4n ylt\u00e4kyllin leluja, lintuja,\nkoiria, neuloja, koukkuja ja sormuksia. Me auttelimme niiden\nviilaamisessa ja kiillottamisessa, ja n\u00e4ill\u00e4p\u00e4 saimmekin vaihdetuksi\nmit\u00e4 vain ruokavaroja oli tarjolla, kuten vuohia, sikoja ja lehmi\u00e4,\njoten ei puutteesta ollut tietoakaan.\nOlimme nyt siis Afrikan mantereella, maailman autioimmassa ja\nsuvaitsemattomimmassa maassa, yksinp\u00e4 Gr\u00f6\u00f6nlantikin ja Novaja Semlja\nlukuunotettuina, vain sill\u00e4 erotuksella, ett\u00e4 sen pahimmatkin tienoot\nolivat asuttuja, vaikka sen muutamien kansojen luonteesta p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en\nolisikin ollut meille v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n vaarallista joutua aivan asumattomiin\ner\u00e4maihin.\nJa siten perille tultuamme me teimme p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6ksen, joka varmaan on\nhurjimpia ja toivottomimpia mit\u00e4 mik\u00e4\u00e4n toverijoukko on maailmassa\ntehnyt. P\u00e4\u00e4timmep\u00e4 nimitt\u00e4in lopullisesti samota mantereen poikki sen\nkeskelt\u00e4, Mosambikin rannikolta id\u00e4st\u00e4 Angolan tai Guinean rannikolle\nAtlantin valtamereen asti -- v\u00e4hint\u00e4\u00e4n 1800 engl. penikulman taipaleen.\nMatkalla tulisi meid\u00e4n kest\u00e4\u00e4 tavatonta kuumuutta, taivaltaa tiett\u00f6mi\u00e4\ner\u00e4maita, ilman mink\u00e4\u00e4nlaisia juhtia tamineittemme kantamiseen,\nvastassamme laumoittain raatelevia ja vaarallisia petoja, kuten\nleijonia, leopardeja, k\u00e4\u00e4rmeit\u00e4 ja elefantteja. Me joutuisimme\nkulkemaan p\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan maissa ja siis kuivan vy\u00f6hykkeen keskuksessa;\ntiellemme sattuisi sotaisia ja verenhimoisia villikansoja; n\u00e4lk\u00e4 ja\njano olisivat ainaisena uhkana. Sanalla sanoen, olisipa siin\u00e4 pit\u00e4nyt\nolla pelotuksia kylliksi j\u00e4rkytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n uhkamielisint\u00e4kin luonnetta.\nMutta me emme s\u00e4ikkyneet, vaan p\u00e4\u00e4timme antautua seikkailuihin.\nEih\u00e4n nimitt\u00e4in edes ollut muuta pelastuksen mahdollisuuttakaan.\nJos nimitt\u00e4in olisimme purjehtineet pitkin Afrikan kolkkoja rantoja\npohjoiseen p\u00e4in Punaisellemerelle asti, niin oli ainoana toiveenamme\nsiell\u00e4 joutua arabialaisten vangiksi. N\u00e4m\u00e4 m\u00f6isiv\u00e4t meid\u00e4t\nturkkilaisten orjiksi, mik\u00e4 ei olisi paljoakaan parempi kohtalo kuin\nkuolema. Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemelle emme voineet pyrki\u00e4, sill\u00e4 tuulet olivat\nkovin vaihtelevia ja meri sill\u00e4 leveys-asteella liian myrskyinen. Mutta\nme tiesimme kaikki, ett\u00e4 jos kykenisimme vaeltamaan kylliksi kauvas\nsis\u00e4maahan, niin saattaisimme tavata jonkun niist\u00e4 isoista virroista,\njotka laskevat Atlantiin. Sellaisen virran partailla voisimme rakentaa\nkanootteja, jotka kuljettaisivat meid\u00e4t meren rantaan, olipa se\nmiten kaukana tahansa. Meill\u00e4 ei olisi silloin muuta huolta kuin\nruokavarojen saanti, ja toivoimme ampuma-aseillamme kaatavamme riistaa\nkylliksi. Viel\u00e4p\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ttelimme mahdolliseksi lis\u00e4t\u00e4 pelastuksemme riemua\nkultal\u00f6yd\u00f6ill\u00e4, jotka monin verroin korvaisivat k\u00e4rsimyksemme, jos\nhengiss\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme ihmisten ilmoille.\nVasta nyt aloin min\u00e4kin toden teolla ottaa osaa neuvotteluihin.\nKahden- tai kolmentuhannen engl. penikulman jalkamatka er\u00e4maissa\npetojen ja villien keskess\u00e4 karmi pintaani, kun p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6s tuli\nteht\u00e4v\u00e4ksi. Luopuen entisest\u00e4 v\u00e4linpit\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6myydest\u00e4ni min\u00e4 k\u00e4ytin\nkaiken kaunopuheliaisuuteni oman alkuper\u00e4isen suunnitelmani puolesta,\nnimitt\u00e4in ett\u00e4 yritt\u00e4isimme Punaisellamerell\u00e4 vallata jonkun laivan.\nMutta he pitiv\u00e4t hanketta haaveena, sit\u00e4 l\u00e4hemmin ajatellessaan.\nAuringosta havainnon tehden laskimme olevamme 12. astetta 15. minuuttia\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan etel\u00e4puolella. Kartalta n\u00e4imme Angolan rannikon olevan\n8. ja 11. etel\u00e4isen leveys-asteen v\u00e4lill\u00e4, kun taasen Niger-virran\navulla Guinean rannikolle pyrkiminen olisi k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4nyt suuntamme 12. ja\n29. pohjoisen leveys-asteen v\u00e4lille. Angolan siis valitsimme, joten\nmatka k\u00e4visi jokseenkin suoraan l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohti. Virtojen avulla toivoimme\nkevent\u00e4v\u00e4mme matkaamme, kuten sanottu, varsinkin jos keksisimme keinon\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 sen ison sis\u00e4j\u00e4rven ylitse, jota alkuasukkaat nimitt\u00e4v\u00e4t\nCoalmucoaksi ja josta Niilin sanotaan johtavan juoksunsa. Mutta\nkertomukseni osottaa viel\u00e4, ett\u00e4 sellaisia toiveita helposti kohtaa\npaha pettymys.\nRyhdyimme siis valmistautumaan retke\u00e4mme varten sen mukaan kuin\nolopaikassamme k\u00e4vi p\u00e4ins\u00e4 ja pieni kokemuksemme maan luonteesta meille\nopetti.\nOlimme jo jonkun aikaa takaperin tottuneet astelemaan paljain jaloin\nkallioilla, somerolla, ruohokossa ja rantahiekalla. Mutta kun\nhuomasimme tukalimmaksi totuttaa jalkapohjiamme sis\u00e4maan kuivana\nkuumentuvaan hietaan, niin varustimme itsellemme jonkunlaisia\nvilli-el\u00e4inten nahoista ommeltuja tallukoita, karvapuoli sis\u00e4\u00e4np\u00e4in.\nAuringossa kuivaten koveni nahka niin lujaksi, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4llaiset jalkineet\nkestiv\u00e4t kauvan; ne olivat keveit\u00e4 ja mukavia.\nKoetimme houkutella jotakuta alkuasukkaista oppaaksemme matkalle l\u00e4ntt\u00e4\nkohti, mutta n\u00e4m\u00e4 vain kohauttelivat olkap\u00e4it\u00e4ns\u00e4, osottaaksensa\nkuinka v\u00e4h\u00e4n heit\u00e4 miellytti aikeemme. Kyselless\u00e4mme heilt\u00e4 leijonista\nja muista pedoista he nauroivat ja ilmaisivat merkeill\u00e4, ett\u00e4 ne saa\nnuotion avulla helposti h\u00e4\u00e4detyksi; ja hyv\u00e4\u00e4n tarpeeseen se neuvo\nmeille olikin, rohkaisten mielt\u00e4mme jo ennakolta.\nPaljon yritimme pohtia, mill\u00e4 tavalla saisimme tamineemme kuljetetuksi,\nsill\u00e4 jo ampumavarammekin olivat liian raskas taakka meid\u00e4n kantaa\nmaassa, jossa kuumuus teki meid\u00e4t itsemme kyllin raskaaksi kuormaksi\nmeille. Maan asukkaat eiv\u00e4t tunteneet mit\u00e4\u00e4n kuormajuhtaa, kuten\nhevosta tai muulia, aasia, kamelia tai dromedaaria. Jonkunlaisena\npuolittain kesytettyn\u00e4 koti-el\u00e4imen\u00e4 oli heill\u00e4 samaisia pikku\npuhveleita, joita olimme yhden tappaneet, ja n\u00e4it\u00e4 he kyll\u00e4 k\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t\nkantamaan taakkoja. Huomasimme my\u00f6s, ett\u00e4 n\u00e4m\u00e4 elukat olivat ketteri\u00e4\nja voimakkaita uimareita. Mutta me emme tienneet mit\u00e4\u00e4n sellaisen\nel\u00e4imen ohjaamisesta ja hoidosta, tai mill\u00e4 tavoin kantamukset olisivat\nkiinnitett\u00e4v\u00e4t.\nViimein min\u00e4 esitin heille menettelytavan, joka piankin saavutti\nheid\u00e4n hyv\u00e4ksymisens\u00e4, nimitt\u00e4in ett\u00e4 haastaisimme riitaa joidenkuiden\nalkuasukkaiden kanssa ja ottaisimme kymmenkunta vankia, sitoen n\u00e4m\u00e4\norjiksemme, kantamaan matkatarpeitamme. Samallahan saisimme opastusta\nja puheluseuraa, sek\u00e4 oppisimme edes jotakin maan kielt\u00e4. Ihan heti ei\nneuvooni tartuttu, mutta alkuasukkaat antoivat pian itse aihetta sen\ntoteuttamiselle ja samalla tilaisuudenkin siihen.\nPikku vaihtokauppamme alkuasukasten kanssa oli t\u00e4h\u00e4n asti tapahtunut\nheid\u00e4n ensin osottamaansa yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyyteen luottaen, mutta lopulta\nhavaitsimme heiss\u00e4kin koirankuria. Ostettuaan muutamia p\u00e4it\u00e4 karjaa\nheilt\u00e4 sepp\u00e4mme kaavailemilla leluilla sattui nimitt\u00e4in er\u00e4\u00e4lle meid\u00e4n\nmiehellemme erimielisyytt\u00e4 vastakumppaninsa kanssa. Silloin villit\n\u00e4hittelem\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nelle omalla tavallansa, ja pit\u00e4en h\u00e4nen karjan hinnaksi\ntarjoamansa lelut he panivat kumppaninsa ajamaan karjan pois h\u00e4nen\nnen\u00e4ns\u00e4 alitse ja ilkkuivat t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 kurkkua. Miehemme nosti sellaisesta\noman k\u00e4den oikeudesta melun ja huusi tovereitansa avuksi, mutta\nsilloin se neekeri, jonka kanssa h\u00e4n oli kauppaa hieronut, paiskasi\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 keih\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 niin paikalleen, ett\u00e4 ase olisi l\u00e4vist\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nen\nruumiinsa, ellei h\u00e4n olisi mit\u00e4 vikkelimmin poukannut syrj\u00e4\u00e4n samalla\nkun torjuvasti nosti k\u00e4tens\u00e4 yl\u00f6s. Nyt keih\u00e4s kuitenkin ruhjaisi\nk\u00e4sivartta; mies julmistuneena sieppasi luikkunsa ja ampui neekeri\u00e4\nsyd\u00e4meen.\nToiset l\u00e4hell\u00e4 olevat villit, samoin kuin nekin, jotka olivat meid\u00e4n\nmuiden seurassa loitompana, s\u00e4ik\u00e4htyiv\u00e4t niin kamalasti tulen\nleiskahdusta, pamausta ja maanmiehens\u00e4 \u00e4kkikuolemaa, ett\u00e4 ensin tovin\nseisoivat turraksi h\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4ntynein\u00e4. Mutta heid\u00e4n toinnuttuansa muuan\net\u00e4\u00e4mp\u00e4n\u00e4 meist\u00e4 seisonut alkoi \u00e4kki\u00e4 kirkua jotakin taisteluhaastetta;\nmuut kaikki vastasivat, juosten h\u00e4nen ymp\u00e4rilleen, meid\u00e4n tyhmistynein\u00e4\n\u00e4llistelless\u00e4mme t\u00e4t\u00e4 menoa.\nParin kolmen minuutin kuluttua alkoi kirkuva kutsu kiiriskell\u00e4 paikasta\ntoiseen, kyl\u00e4st\u00e4 kyl\u00e4\u00e4n ja toiselle puolelle jokeakin, ja tuossa\ntuokiossa n\u00e4imme alastoman liudan kiit\u00e4v\u00e4n joka taholta kokouspaikalle.\nVajaassa tunnissa oli niit\u00e4 viitisensataa koolla, joillakuilla\njouset aseinaan, useimmilla keih\u00e4\u00e4t, joita he osaavat k\u00e4ytell\u00e4 niin\ntaitavasti, ett\u00e4 voivat linnunkin keih\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4 lennosta.\nMeill\u00e4 ei ollut pitki\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n aikoja neuvotellaksemme, sill\u00e4 v\u00e4enpaljous\nkarttui hetki hetkelt\u00e4; ja uskonpa, ett\u00e4 jos olisimme kauvan\nsiekailleet, niin heit\u00e4 olisi kertynyt vaikkapa kymmenen tuhatta.\nMeill\u00e4 ei senvuoksi ollut muuta valittavana kuin paeta laivaamme,\njossa tosiaan olisimmekin varsin vankasti puolustautuneet, tai astua\neteenp\u00e4in ja koettaa, mitenk\u00e4 yhteislaukaus tai pari raehauleilla\ntehoaisi.\nP\u00e4\u00e4timme heti k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4lkim\u00e4ist\u00e4 keinoa, luottaen siihen ett\u00e4 jyske\nja tuhoisat seuraukset ajaisivat heid\u00e4t oitis pakoon. Asetuimme\nriviin joka mies ja marssimme rohkeasti heit\u00e4 vastaan. He seisoivat\nvalmiina vastaanottamaan meid\u00e4t, n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti luottaen siihen, ett\u00e4\nheid\u00e4n keih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 tekisi lopun meist\u00e4 kaikista; mutta me pys\u00e4hdyimmekin\nkeih\u00e4itten kantomatkan ulkopuolelle. Seisoimme melkoisen matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\ntoisistamme, jotta ampumalinjamme ulottuisi laajalle, ja annoimme\nheille sellaisen tervehdyslaukauksen, ett\u00e4 kuusitoista kuukertui\npaikalle ja kolme kaatui moniaan kymmenen askelta juostuansa.\nYhteislaukaustamme seurasi hirmuinen kirkuna ja ulina. Me seisoimme\nliikkumattomina ja latasimme pyssymme uudestaan. Kun hek\u00e4\u00e4n eiv\u00e4t\nkaikonneet, niin me ammuimme toistamiseen heid\u00e4n keskeens\u00e4. T\u00e4ll\u00e4\nkertaa sai kymmenkunta surmansa, mutta kun he eiv\u00e4t seisseet yht\u00e4\ntihe\u00e4ss\u00e4 kuin ennen, niin kaikki miehemme eiv\u00e4t ampuneet. Seitsem\u00e4n oli\nnimitt\u00e4in saanut k\u00e4skyn s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4 laukauksensa ja edet\u00e4 heti kun toiset\nolivat ampuneet, n\u00e4iden vuorostaan ladatessa j\u00e4lleen.\nHeti toisen laukauksen j\u00e4lkeen me luikkasimme huikeasti ja nuo\nseitsem\u00e4n marssi parikymment\u00e4 askelta l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi, ampuen taaskin.\nTaakse j\u00e4\u00e4neet latasivat kaikella kiireell\u00e4 ja eteniv\u00e4t vuorostaan,\nmutta n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n meid\u00e4n l\u00e4henev\u00e4n villit karkasivat tiehens\u00e4 kiljuen\nkuin noidutut.\nSaapuessamme taistelukent\u00e4lle n\u00e4imme ison joukon ruumiita kent\u00e4ll\u00e4\nhajallaan, paljoa enemm\u00e4n kuin saatoimme olettaa tappaneemme tai\nhaavoittaneemme, niin, enemm\u00e4n kuin meill\u00e4 oli ollut luotejakaan\npyssyiss\u00e4mme. Olimme t\u00e4st\u00e4 seikasta ihan ymm\u00e4ll\u00e4, kunnes huomasimme,\nett\u00e4 pelkk\u00e4 s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdys oli p\u00f6kerrytt\u00e4nyt monet; saattoipa joku olla\nhaavatta kuollutkin.\nN\u00e4ist\u00e4 kauhistuksen herpaamista tulivat useat toinnuttuansa palvomaan\nmeit\u00e4, otaksuen meid\u00e4t jumaliksi tai paholaisiksi -- en tied\u00e4\nkumpaisiksiko, emmek\u00e4 sill\u00e4 suurta v\u00e4li\u00e4 pit\u00e4neet. Toiset polvistuivat\neteemme, toiset heitt\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t kasvoilleen, ja kaikki tekiv\u00e4t\nlukemattomia mit\u00e4 t\u00e4ydellisimm\u00e4n alistumisen merkkej\u00e4. Nyt juolahti\nmieleeni, ett\u00e4 me saatoimme sodan oikeudella ottaa niin monta vankia\nkuin mielemme teki, vied\u00e4ksemme ne retkellemme kuormankantajiksi.\nMiehet olivat oitis minun mielt\u00e4ni, ja niinp\u00e4 sidoimme noin\nkuusikymment\u00e4 rotevaa nuorta miest\u00e4, selitt\u00e4en heille, ett\u00e4 ottaisimme\nheid\u00e4t mukaamme. N\u00e4m\u00e4 n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4tkin varsin suostuvaisilta, mutta\nluonnollisesti piti meid\u00e4n silti pysy\u00e4 varuillamme, huomattuamme t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nkansan rajuksi, kostonhimoiseksi ja petolliseksi, joten orjiimme ei\nk\u00e4ynyt ollenkaan luottaminen.\nNELJ\u00c4S LUKU.\nMinusta tulee kapteeni.\nEnnen kuin jatkan pitemm\u00e4lle t\u00e4ytyy minun lukijalle vihjata, ett\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 t\u00e4st\u00e4 hetkest\u00e4 alkaen k\u00e4vin vakavammin k\u00e4siksi asioihin, pit\u00e4en\nparempaa v\u00e4li\u00e4 kohtalostamme. Sill\u00e4 vaikka kaikki kumppanini olivat\nvanhempia miehi\u00e4, niin aloin kuitenkin huomata heid\u00e4t neuvottomiksi\n-- tai kuten nyt sanoisin kylm\u00e4verisyytt\u00e4 puuttuviksi -- silloin\nkun tarvittiin toimintaa. Ensim\u00e4isen varsinaisen tilaisuuden t\u00e4lle\nhavainnolle antoi \u00e4sken mainittu kahakka alkuasukasten kanssa, Lujasti\np\u00e4\u00e4tetty\u00e4ns\u00e4 hy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4 ampuma-asein noiden kimppuun ja havaittuansa ett\u00e4\nn\u00e4m\u00e4 eiv\u00e4t luulon mukaan karanneetkaan pakoon, alkoi heit\u00e4 j\u00e4nist\u00e4\u00e4\nniin, ett\u00e4 he kaiketi olisivat kiireimmiten vilist\u00e4neet takaisin\nlaivaan, jos se olisi ollut l\u00e4hell\u00e4.\nT\u00e4ll\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 min\u00e4 innostuin heit\u00e4 rohkaisemaan. Hoilasin ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n\npiti ladata, uudestaan ja ampua toinen yhteislaukaus, vakuuttaen\nmenev\u00e4ni takuuseen siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 neekerit pakenisivat mink\u00e4 k\u00e4p\u00e4list\u00e4\nl\u00e4htisi, jos vain neuvoani noudatettaisiin. T\u00e4st\u00e4 reipastuneina he\nlaukaisivat toistamiseen, s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4en minun esityksest\u00e4ni muutamia\npanoksia varallekin.\nToisen yhteislaukauksen j\u00e4lkeen minun oli suorastaan pakko asettua\nk\u00e4skij\u00e4ksi.\n\"Nyt, seigneurs\", huudahdin, \"hurratkaamme.\"\nAvasin oman kurkkuni ja huikkasin kolmasti, kuten englantilaisilla\nmerimiehill\u00e4 on sellaisissa tilaisuuksissa tapana.\n\"Ja nyt seuratkaa minua\", kehotin niit\u00e4 seitsem\u00e4\u00e4, jotka eiv\u00e4t olleet\nampuneet, \"niin vannonpa tekev\u00e4mme puhdasta heist\u00e4\", ja oikeassa\nolinkin, kuten olen jo kertonut.\nT\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4st\u00e4 alkaen olin heid\u00e4n puheissaan aina Seignior Capitanio,\nmutta kun min\u00e4 vastustelin seignioria liian ylh\u00e4isen\u00e4 nimityksen\u00e4, niin\nlausui tykkimiehemme, joka sujuvasti puhui englantia: \"No, olkoonpa\nsiis nimen\u00e4si kapteeni Bob\", ja kapteenin nime\u00e4 sain sitte vakinaisesti\nkantaa.\nPortugalilaiset kunnostautuvat kyll\u00e4 silloin, kun heid\u00e4n edell\u00e4\u00e4n\nk\u00e4y joku esikuvana, mutta oman onnensa nojaan j\u00e4\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n he per\u00e4ti\nlannistuvat. Sit\u00e4 sain j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in kokea monet kerrat, ja olenkin usein\nkummastellut, ett\u00e4 joukko miehi\u00e4, joiden oma miehuus pyrki lujalle\nottaessa pett\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, alun pit\u00e4enk\u00e4\u00e4n uskalsi ajatella ja alottaa niin\ntuiki ep\u00e4toivoista ja suurisuuntaista yrityst\u00e4 kuin meid\u00e4n edess\u00e4mme\noleva matka oli.\nHeid\u00e4n joukossaan oli tosin pari kolme uupumatonta miest\u00e4,\njoiden rohkeus ja uutteruus oli kaikkien muiden tukena, ja he\nalusta asti ratkaisivatkin asiain menon. N\u00e4m\u00e4 olivat tykkimies\nja sep\u00e4ksi sukeutunut taiturimme, sek\u00e4 osaltaan my\u00f6skin toinen\nkirvesmiehemme. N\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n minun ottavan hiukan ryhti\u00e4 he pysyv\u00e4isell\u00e4\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyydell\u00e4 liittyiv\u00e4t minuun.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 tykkimies oli nerokas matemaatikko, monipuolisesti opiskellut mies\nja sek\u00e4 tietopuolisesti ett\u00e4 k\u00e4yt\u00e4nn\u00f6llisesti kehittynyt merenkulkija.\nAlituisissa keskusteluissani h\u00e4nen kanssaan min\u00e4 opin oman varsinaisen\nkasvatukseni perusteet, joita minun oli helppo sittemmin t\u00e4ydennell\u00e4.\nH\u00e4n erityisesti kannusti minua pyrkim\u00e4\u00e4n eteenp\u00e4in maailmassa ja\nhankkimaan tietoja, jotka tekisiv\u00e4t minut p\u00e4tev\u00e4ksi suuriin yrityksiin.\nVahinko vain, ett\u00e4 hyv\u00e4t p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6kseni t\u00e4ss\u00e4 suhteessa pyrkiv\u00e4t\nunohtumaan, milloin sattui kyll\u00e4kin rauhallista tilaisuutta niiden\ntoteuttamiseen.\nMutta palatakseni asiaan: kun tykkimies n\u00e4ki osuuteni taistelussa ja\nkuuli ehdotukseni, ett\u00e4 pid\u00e4tt\u00e4isimme joukon vankeja kuormastomme\nkantajiksi, niin h\u00e4n k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi minuun koko joukkomme edess\u00e4.\n\"Kapteeni Bob\", sanoi h\u00e4n, \"sinun on mielest\u00e4ni ruvettava\np\u00e4\u00e4llik\u00f6ksemme, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n yrityksen onnistuminen on kokonaan sinun\nansiotasi.\"\n\"Ei, ei,\" intin vastaan, \"\u00e4l\u00e4 minua imartele. Sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4 olla Seignior\nCapitanio, meid\u00e4n kenraalimme; min\u00e4 olen siihen virkaan liian nuori.\"\nLopuksi sovimme, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nest\u00e4 tuli meid\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6mme, minun\npakostakin j\u00e4\u00e4dess\u00e4ni h\u00e4nen virkatoverikseen.\nVangeissa oli er\u00e4s kookas, solakka, kaunismuotoinen mies, jolle\nkaikki toiset n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t osottavan suurta kunnioitusta. H\u00e4n oli,\nkuten j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in k\u00e4sitimme, er\u00e4\u00e4n heid\u00e4n kuninkaansa poika; is\u00e4 oli\nkaatunut ensim\u00e4isell\u00e4 yhteislaukauksellamme, ja h\u00e4n itse oli saanut\nluodin k\u00e4sivarteensa ja lantioonsa. J\u00e4lkim\u00e4isest\u00e4 haavasta vuoti\nrunsaasti verta, joten h\u00e4n oli jo kovin heikossa tilassa, jotapaitsi\nedellinen luoti oli murtanut ranteen. El\u00e4j\u00e4ksi ei n\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt poloisesta\nolevan, mutta kun h\u00e4n tuntui tavallista t\u00e4rke\u00e4mm\u00e4lt\u00e4 henkil\u00f6lt\u00e4, niin\njohtui mieleeni, ett\u00e4 voisimme k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hy\u00f6dyksemme ja kenties\ntehd\u00e4 h\u00e4nest\u00e4 jonkunlaisen johtajan oman v\u00e4kens\u00e4 keskuudessa. Annoin\nh\u00e4net senvuoksi haavurimme hoitoon, ja koetin merkeill\u00e4 ilmaista\nonnettomalle, ett\u00e4 me kyll\u00e4 viel\u00e4 tekisimme h\u00e4nest\u00e4 terveen.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 her\u00e4tti heiss\u00e4 uutta jumaloitsemisen tunnetta, he kun uskoivat,\nett\u00e4 me saatoimme n\u00e4kym\u00e4tt\u00f6mill\u00e4 v\u00e4likappaleilla sek\u00e4 surmata ett\u00e4\nj\u00e4lleen saada vainajat virkoamaan. Nuoren prinssin pyynn\u00f6st\u00e4 jotkut\nh\u00e4nen l\u00e4himp\u00e4ns\u00e4 vaivalloisesti tulkitsivat meille, ett\u00e4 armollisesti\nparantaisimme h\u00e4nen is\u00e4ns\u00e4kin, joka makasi kent\u00e4ll\u00e4 ruumiina, otsa\nl\u00e4vistettyn\u00e4.\nEmme ilmaisseet itselt\u00e4mme puuttuvan kyky\u00e4 siihen, mutta annoimme\nheid\u00e4n ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 surmansa saaneet olivat ensin osottautuneet\nmeille vihamielisiksi, joten heid\u00e4n kuolemansa oli varottavana\nesimerkkin\u00e4 pidett\u00e4v\u00e4 voimassa. Siten k\u00e4visi peruuttamattomasti\nkaikille niskureille. Mutta jos h\u00e4n, prinssi, suostuisi tulemaan\nmatkassamme ja noudattaisi ohjeitamme, niin me emme h\u00e4nt\u00e4 j\u00e4tt\u00e4isi\nkuolemaan vammoihinsa. T\u00e4m\u00e4n oivaltaessaan h\u00e4n pyysi er\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4\nseuralaiseltansa nuolen, otti sen vioittumattomaan k\u00e4teens\u00e4, nosti\nsen kohti aurinkoa, taittoi sen kahtia ja asetti k\u00e4rjen rintaansa\nvasten, ojentaen sitte tuon puolikkaan minulle. T\u00e4m\u00e4n k\u00e4sitin\nvalaksi, ett\u00e4 valon jumala aurinko h\u00e4neen nuolensa iskek\u00f6\u00f6n, jos h\u00e4n\nkonsanaan herke\u00e4isi olemasta yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni. Ja niinp\u00e4 h\u00e4n todella ahersikin\nuskollisesti palveluksessamme sittemmin kuukausim\u00e4\u00e4ri\u00e4.\nHaavuri huomasi vammoista toisen pelk\u00e4ksi lihashaavaksi, mutta\nranteesta oli yksi luu murtunut. Sen h\u00e4n lastoitti, sovittaen\nk\u00e4sivarren kaulasta riippuvaan silmukkaan ja merkeill\u00e4 opastaen h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nsuureen varovaisuuteen liikkeiss\u00e4\u00e4n. Kuuliaisesti mies tottelikin\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksi\u00e4, jotta paraneminen edistyi s\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6llisesti.\nPerusteellisesti tulkitsin t\u00e4lle neekerille suunnitelmiamme, samalla\nkun jo alussa opetin h\u00e4nelle my\u00f6nt\u00e4v\u00e4n ja kielt\u00e4v\u00e4n vastauksen\nportugalinkielell\u00e4. Ruokavarojen hankkimisesta h\u00e4n sai selitetyksi,\nett\u00e4 niit\u00e4 ei pitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan tarvittaisi, sill\u00e4 matkan varrelta kyll\u00e4\nl\u00f6ytyisi riistaa. Kantamuksiemme painavuudelle h\u00e4n pudisteli p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4ns\u00e4,\njoten annoin v\u00e4elle k\u00e4skyn jakaa ne pienemmiksi nipuiksi, ja me j\u00e4timme\nsen vuoksi kaikki yksitoista kirstuamme tyhjilleen rannalle. H\u00e4n\nilmaisi toimittavansa meille puhveleita avuksi kantamisessa, arvelipa\nett\u00e4 mekin voisimme niill\u00e4 ratsastaa, jos olisimme v\u00e4syneit\u00e4; mutta\nsill\u00e4 me emme pit\u00e4neet v\u00e4li\u00e4, olimmehan vain hyvill\u00e4mme siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nkuormajuhdat viel\u00e4 h\u00e4d\u00e4n tullen kelpaisivat sy\u00f6d\u00e4.\nKannatin h\u00e4net sitte laivaamme ja annoin h\u00e4nen katsastella kaikkea\nmit\u00e4 meill\u00e4 siell\u00e4 oli. H\u00e4n oli kovin h\u00e4mm\u00e4styksiss\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 heid\u00e4n\nveneens\u00e4 ovat viheli\u00e4isi\u00e4 pukinnahoista ommeltuja kaukaloita, jotka\noli sivelty jollakin iljett\u00e4v\u00e4n hajuisella voiteella. Autoimme h\u00e4net\nlaivamme kannelle ja osotimme merkeill\u00e4, ett\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n johtelisi\nmiehi\u00e4ns\u00e4 tavaraimme kantamisessa, niin me emme h\u00e4nell\u00e4 kannattaisi\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n. Rantaan palattuamme veimme h\u00e4net miestens\u00e4 luo, ja pyysimme\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 selitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n heille matkamme m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n.\nH\u00e4n piti heille pitk\u00e4n puheen ja ymm\u00e4rsimme h\u00e4nen sanovan heille,\nett\u00e4 jos he suostuisivat l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n kantajiksi retkelle leijonain\nmaihin, niin heid\u00e4n piti vastata: \"Si, Seignior\" (\"kyll\u00e4, herra\").\nHe vastasivat heti: \"Si, Seignior\", ja taputtivat k\u00e4si\u00e4\u00e4n katseensa\naurinkoon kohottaen, mink\u00e4 prinssi tulkitsi meille uskollisuuden\nvannomiseksi. Mutta pitip\u00e4 sitte heist\u00e4 muuan pitk\u00e4n puheen prinssille,\nja h\u00e4nen eleist\u00e4ns\u00e4 k\u00e4sitimme, ett\u00e4 villit suuressa huolessa\nhalusivat jotakin meilt\u00e4. Prinssi sai meille selitetyksi, ett\u00e4\nmekin taputtaisimme k\u00e4si\u00e4mme auringolle (vannoisimme siis), ett\u00e4 me\nemme surmaisi heit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 me antaisimme heille khiarukkia (leip\u00e4\u00e4),\nemme pit\u00e4isi heit\u00e4 n\u00e4l\u00e4ss\u00e4 emmek\u00e4 antaisi leijonain heit\u00e4 sy\u00f6d\u00e4.\nSanoin olevamme valmiit lupaamaan tuon kaiken, ja h\u00e4nen uudistetusta\nkehotuksestaan taputin k\u00e4si\u00e4ni aurinkoa kohti, jolloin kaikki vangit\nlankesivat kasvoilleen maahan ja noustessaan p\u00e4\u00e4steliv\u00e4t mit\u00e4\nkummallisimpia huutoja.\nL\u00e4hinn\u00e4 huolenamme oli nyt saada ruokavaroja sek\u00e4 vankiemme ett\u00e4 omaksi\nnykyiseksi toimeentuloksemme. Merkeill\u00e4 ilmottaessani prinssille, mit\u00e4\nmietiskelimme, ilmaisi h\u00e4n ett\u00e4 joku vangeista voisi kyl\u00e4lt\u00e4 noutaa\nruokavaroja ja muutamia kuormajuhtia. Kun n\u00e4ytin vastahakoiselta\nsellaiseen luottamukseen osotti h\u00e4n monilla merkeill\u00e4 uskollisuuttaan,\nsitoipa omin k\u00e4sin nuoran kaulaansa ja tarjosi minulle sen toisen p\u00e4\u00e4n,\nhuomauttaakseen ett\u00e4 h\u00e4neth\u00e4n perisi hirsipuu, ellei mies palaisi\ntakaisin. Suostuin siis, ja h\u00e4n antoi er\u00e4\u00e4lle miehelleen tarkkoja\nohjeita matkaa varten, viitaten lopuksi aurinkoon, osottaakseen mihin\naikaan h\u00e4nen oli jouduttava takaisin.\nMies l\u00e4ksi vimmatusti juosta porhaltamaan ja piti vauhtinsa kunnes\nkatosi n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4; taival n\u00e4ytti siis olevan melkoinen. Seuraavana\naamuna, paria tuntia aikaisemmin kuin oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4, huhuili musta\nprinssi minulle ja viittasi parin engl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 kohoavaa\nkunnasta kohti, jolla n\u00e4in pikku karjaa ja useita miehi\u00e4 ajamassa sit\u00e4\nleirillemme. He toivat ruokavaroiksemme paljon lehmi\u00e4, nuoria hiehoja,\npuolitoistakymment\u00e4 vuohta ja kuormajuhdiksi nelj\u00e4 mullia.\nMuonavarastoa oli siin\u00e4 riitt\u00e4v\u00e4sti, leiv\u00e4ksi saivat meille kelvata\ner\u00e4\u00e4t juuret, joita olimme ennenkin k\u00e4ytt\u00e4neet. Tapettujen vuohten\nnahat m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4sin kuivattavaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4paisteessa ja niist\u00e4 ryhdyimme\nvalmistamaan reppuja, sulloaksemme niihin matkatarpeitamme, jotta\nn\u00e4it\u00e4 olisi helpompi kantaa. N\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n puuhamme l\u00e4hetti musta prinssi\nnoutamaan meille kolmen miehen kantamuksen paljoa parempia nahkoja,\njotka k\u00e4ytimme suurella menestyksell\u00e4 siihen tarkotukseen. Samalla\nkertaa tuotiin prinssille kaksi keih\u00e4st\u00e4, tavallista hienompia, ne kun\nolivat tehdyt mustasta sile\u00e4st\u00e4 puusta ja k\u00e4rjikseen saaneet jonkun\ntuntemattoman otuksen hampaan, joka oli peukalon paksuinen ja varsin\nter\u00e4v\u00e4. Prinssi ei tahtonut ottaa niit\u00e4 vastaan ennen kuin min\u00e4 annoin\nluvan, vaan k\u00e4ski tuomaan ne minulle. Olin tullut vakuutetuksi siit\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli sanansa pit\u00e4v\u00e4 ja rehellinen, joten luovutin nuo komeat\naseet h\u00e4nelle.\nValmistausimme l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n. Prinssi kuitenkin ilmaisi minulle, ett\u00e4\njonkun matkaa pohjoisempana oli joki, jota my\u00f6ten p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme\nlaivallamme melkoisen kauvas l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohti. N\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti oli joki\nsama, joka n\u00e4kyy Quilloan nimisen\u00e4 kartallamme Mosambikin rannikon\npohjoisimmassa osassa. Me p\u00e4\u00e4timme ottaa prinssin ja niin monta villi\u00e4\nkuin laivaamme saatiin mahtumaan, purjehtiaksemme virran suuhun; minun\nosakseni tuli karavaanin kapteenina marssia samaan paikkaan maitse.\nKahdeksan miehist\u00e4mme j\u00e4i saattueekseni sek\u00e4 kolmekymment\u00e4seitsem\u00e4n\nvankia; kaikki matkatavarat kuljetettiin laivalla. Ajoimme mulleja\nedell\u00e4mme; ne olivat aivan kesyj\u00e4 ja vantteria halukkaasti kantamaan\nmit\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 -- neekerit ratsastelivatkin niiden selj\u00e4ss\u00e4 nelj\u00e4\nkerrallaan. Ne s\u00f6iv\u00e4t k\u00e4dest\u00e4mme, nuoleskelivat jalkojamme ja olivat\ns\u00e4yseit\u00e4 kuin koirat.\nMeill\u00e4 oli ruuaksemme mukanamme kuusi tai seitsem\u00e4n lehm\u00e4\u00e4, ja neekerit\noppivat kerke\u00e4sti suolaamaan ja kuivaamaan niiden lihoja. Maitse oli\np\u00e4\u00e4sy virralle hyvin helppoa ja jouduimme perille saman p\u00e4iv\u00e4n iltana;\nmutta laiva ehti jokisuuhun vasta viiden vuorokauden kuluttua, sill\u00e4\nlahdella oli tuuli tyventynyt ja joki teki alajuoksunsa varrella\npitk\u00e4n kaaren pohjoiseen p\u00e4in, meid\u00e4n osuessamme t\u00e4m\u00e4n etel\u00e4iseen\npolvekkeeseen. T\u00e4ll\u00e4v\u00e4lin me neekerien alotteesta valmistimme\noivallisia nahkaisia vesileilej\u00e4.\nTaatakseen v\u00e4kens\u00e4 uskollisuuden t\u00e4ll\u00e4 matkallamme oli prinssi j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt\nnelj\u00e4n miehens\u00e4 teht\u00e4v\u00e4ksi pit\u00e4\u00e4 vankeja kytkettyin\u00e4 kaksittain\nranteista yhteen. Mutta me havaitsimme heid\u00e4t niin rehellisiksi ja\nvarsinkin niin tottelevaisiksi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohtaan, ett\u00e4 me jonkun matkan\np\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n h\u00e4nen maastansa p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4mme laskimme heid\u00e4t vapaiksi, vaikkakin\nh\u00e4n palattuansa sidotutti heid\u00e4t uudestaan ja s\u00e4ilytti sen kurin pitk\u00e4n\naikaa.\nMaa oli jokivarressa yl\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4, ruoho rehotti vehmaana, karjaa k\u00e4vi\nlaitumella joka suunnalla; mets\u00e4\u00e4 ei ollut l\u00e4hell\u00e4, mutta loitompana\nn\u00e4kyi kasvavan tammea, seeteri\u00e4 ja m\u00e4nty\u00e4, aimo j\u00e4ttil\u00e4isi\u00e4 seassa.\nJoki oli sievoinen avoin kanava, jolla nousu- ja laskuvesi tuntui\nkuudenkymmenen engl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n; vire\u00e4sti laskettelimme yl\u00f6s\nvirtaa nousuveden aikoina, tuulen navakasti puhallellessa id\u00e4n\nkulmilta. Niin kauvan kuin uoma pysyi leve\u00e4n\u00e4 ja syv\u00e4n\u00e4 painalsimme\nkepe\u00e4sti laskuvett\u00e4kin vastaan, mutta yl\u00e4varrella jouduttuamme\nkulkemaan joen omaa h\u00e4iriintym\u00e4t\u00f6nt\u00e4 juoksua p\u00e4in huomasimme sen liian\nvoimakkaaksi itsellemme ja aloimme pohtia laivamme j\u00e4tt\u00e4mist\u00e4.\nMutta prinssi ei tahtonut mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n suostua siihen, sill\u00e4 huomatessaan\nlaivassa aikoinaan punomamme k\u00f6ysivaraston komensi h\u00e4n kaikki\nrantaa my\u00f6ten samonneet vangit hinaamaan meit\u00e4 pitkin \u00e4yr\u00e4st\u00e4, ja\nkun heid\u00e4n ty\u00f6t\u00e4ns\u00e4 kevent\u00e4\u00e4ksemme pidimme purjettamme yll\u00e4, niin\nmiehet juoksentelivat kelpo vauhtia kiid\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4 meit\u00e4. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 tavoin\nolimme hinaajia vaihdellen kaikkiaan edenneet yl\u00f6s virtaa parinsadan\nengl. penikulman vaiheille, kun se alkoi v\u00e4hitellen soukentua, ja\nseuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 saavuimme isolle vesiputoukselle, joka n\u00e4ytti aivan\npelottavalta, sill\u00e4 vesi sy\u00f6ksyi jokseenkin kohtisuoraan runsaasti\nkuusikymment\u00e4 jalkaa alas, pauhaten niin ettemme voineet kuulla\ntoisiamme; sen kuohun olimme erottaneet jo kymmenkunta engl. penikulmaa\nalempana.\nT\u00e4ss\u00e4 oli meid\u00e4n teht\u00e4v\u00e4 t\u00e4ysi pys\u00e4hdys ja nousimme maihin joka mies;\njos meill\u00e4 olisi ollut pienempi\u00e4 veneit\u00e4, niin olisimme voineet\nkannatuttaa ne kosken ohi ja pitkitt\u00e4\u00e4 niill\u00e4 matkaamme paljoa\nedemm\u00e4ksi yl\u00f6s virtaa. Maaseutu n\u00e4ytti yh\u00e4ti rehev\u00e4lt\u00e4 ja kuhisi\nkarjaa; joitakuita ihmisi\u00e4kin n\u00e4imme, mutta he puhuivat aivan toista\nkielt\u00e4 kuin meid\u00e4n vankimme. Villipetoja n\u00e4imme aivan l\u00e4hell\u00e4mme vasta\nkaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ennen koskelle tuloamme, jolloin kolme mit\u00e4 upeinta\nleopardia seisoi virran pohjoisella \u00e4yr\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, maissa matkaavien\nvankiemme k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ess\u00e4 yksinomaan etel\u00e4ist\u00e4 parrasta.\nTykkimiehemme huomasi ne ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4, juoksi sieppaamaan luikkunsa ja\nsulloi siihen kelpo panoksen.\n\"Nyt, kapteeni Bob\", sanoi h\u00e4n, \"miss\u00e4 on prinssisi?\"\nHuusin t\u00e4m\u00e4n esille.\n\"Kuulehan\", selitti t\u00e4lle tykkimies, \"rauhota nyt v\u00e4ke\u00e4si ja sano\nheille, ett\u00e4 he saavat n\u00e4hd\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n kapineen puhuvan tulta yhdelle\nnoista otuksista, tuottaen sille kuoleman.\"\nNeekeriparat olivat sen n\u00e4k\u00f6isi\u00e4 kuin olisivat he kaikki olleet\njoutumassa surman suuhun, vaikka prinssi heille mit\u00e4 vakuutteli. He\nseisoivat \u00e4llistellen, kun tykkimies \u00e4kki\u00e4 laukaisi. H\u00e4n oli aika\ntarkka ampuja ja kaatoi pedon kahdella p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n osuneella rautapalalla.\nLeopardi tempautui takajaloilleen, huitaisi etuk\u00e4p\u00e4lill\u00e4\u00e4n \u00e4r\u00e4ht\u00e4en\nilmaa ja kaatui kuolleena selj\u00e4lleen; toiset kaksi s\u00e4nt\u00e4siv\u00e4t\ns\u00e4ik\u00e4ht\u00e4nein\u00e4 pakoon.\nMutta kyll\u00e4p\u00e4 olivat vankimmekin p\u00f6kerryksiss\u00e4\u00e4n. Nelj\u00e4, viisi suistui\nmaahan kuin ammuttuina, monet lys\u00e4htiv\u00e4t polvilleen ja ojensivat\nk\u00e4tens\u00e4 meit\u00e4 kohti joko palvoaksensa meit\u00e4 tai rukoillen oman henkens\u00e4\npuolesta, ja h\u00e4tk\u00e4htip\u00e4 prinssikin kaikesta valmistelustansa huolimatta\nniin kuin olisi ollut hypp\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4isill\u00e4ns\u00e4 virtaan. H\u00e4n sitte suurella\nvaivalla sai v\u00e4kens\u00e4 j\u00e4lleen viihdytetyksi.\nN\u00e4hdess\u00e4mme otuksen saaneen surmansa teki minun kovasti mieleni\nkorjata sen talja. Ilmaisin merkeill\u00e4 prinssille, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n l\u00e4hett\u00e4isi\njoitakuita miehi\u00e4ns\u00e4 tuonne nylkem\u00e4\u00e4n pedon. Heti kun h\u00e4n oli vain\nsanan lausahtanut, kirvoitettiin heist\u00e4 nelj\u00e4 tarjokasta irti\nsiteist\u00e4ns\u00e4; n\u00e4m\u00e4 sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t p\u00e4istikkaa virtaan, uivat ylitse ja\nk\u00e4viv\u00e4t k\u00e4siksi ty\u00f6h\u00f6n h\u00e4nen kanssansa. Me olimme antaneet prinssille\nveitsen ja sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n vuoli nelj\u00e4 puuveist\u00e4 niin n\u00e4ps\u00e4\u00e4, etten ole\nel\u00e4iss\u00e4ni niiden veroista n\u00e4hnyt; ja vajaan tunnin kuluttua he\ntoivat minulle taljan, joka olikin harvinaisen iso, nimitt\u00e4in noin\nseitsem\u00e4n jalkaa korvista h\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4n ja l\u00e4hes viisi jalkaa leve\u00e4 selj\u00e4st\u00e4,\nvieh\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4n t\u00e4plik\u00e4s kauttaaltansa. T\u00e4m\u00e4n leopardintaljan toin monia\nvuosia my\u00f6hemmin Lontooseen.\nOlimme nyt matkaamiseemme n\u00e4hden kaikki samalla tasalla,\njalankulkijoita, koska kerran aluksemme ei edemm\u00e4ksi p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt. Kiskoimme\nlaivamme pieneen poukamaan, miss\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4jokeen yhtyi soukempi sivuhaara,\nja j\u00e4timme sen sinne j\u00e4lkeentulevaisten ihmetelt\u00e4v\u00e4ksi. K\u00e4ytimme\nkaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 matkatavaraimme jakamiseen sek\u00e4 kesyjen puhveliemme\nja neekeriemme kuormittamiseen. T\u00e4rkeimm\u00e4t matkatarpeemme olivat\nruuti ja luodit. Ruudin me sulloimme pieniin kuivatuista nahoista\nneulottuihin reppuihin, joissa karvapuoli oli sis\u00e4\u00e4np\u00e4in, jotta kosteus\nei p\u00e4\u00e4sisi tuntumaan, ja n\u00e4m\u00e4 reput sovitimme toisiin, mullinnahoista\ntehtyihin s\u00e4kkeihin, jotka olivat hyvin paksuja ja kovia, karvapuoli\nulosp\u00e4in, jotta mit\u00e4\u00e4n m\u00e4rkyytt\u00e4 ei p\u00e4\u00e4sisi tunkeutumaan sis\u00e4lle. T\u00e4m\u00e4\nmenettelytapa tehosi niin hyvin, ett\u00e4 ruutimme aina s\u00e4ilyi kuivana\nrajuimpina ja pisimpin\u00e4kin sadeaikoina. Kukin meist\u00e4 sai sit\u00e4paitsi\naina mukanansa pidett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi nelj\u00e4nneksen naulaa ruutia ja puoli naulaa\nluoteja; se riitti nykyiseen tarpeeseemme, eik\u00e4 meid\u00e4n tehnyt helteen\nvuoksi mieli kantaa enemp\u00e4\u00e4 painoa kuin oli ehdottomasti v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4t\u00f6nt\u00e4.\nPysyttelimme yh\u00e4 virran partaalla ja jouduimme siten varsin v\u00e4h\u00e4n\ntekemisiin maan asukasten kanssa; mutta nyt jalkaisin taivaltaessamme\nsatuimme sent\u00e4\u00e4n jonkun verran poikkeilemaan t\u00e4hystelem\u00e4ss\u00e4 seutuja\nruokavarojen hankkimiseksi. Ensim\u00e4isen kerran jouduimme jokivarrella\nhiukankin pys\u00e4htym\u00e4\u00e4n er\u00e4\u00e4n noin viisikymment\u00e4 m\u00f6kki\u00e4 k\u00e4sitt\u00e4v\u00e4n pienen\nneekerikaupungin luona, jossa n\u00e4ytti olevan nelisensataa asukasta,\nsill\u00e4 he parveilivat kaikki ulos meit\u00e4 katselemaan ja \u00e4llistelem\u00e4\u00e4n.\nNeekeriemme ilmestyess\u00e4 n\u00e4kyviin alkoivat asukkaat kapaista aseisiinsa,\nluullen vihollisten olevan tulossa kimppuunsa; mutta vaikka neekerimme\neiv\u00e4t osanneetkaan heid\u00e4n kielt\u00e4ns\u00e4, saivat he kuitenkin merkeill\u00e4\nsanotuksi, ettei heill\u00e4 ollut aseita ja ett\u00e4 he olivat kaksittain\nsidotut vangiksi sek\u00e4 ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n takanansa oli sellaisia ihmisi\u00e4,\njotka tulivat auringosta ja pystyiv\u00e4t mielens\u00e4 mukaan tappamaan ja\ntaas henkiin her\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n heid\u00e4t kaikki. Mutta n\u00e4m\u00e4 suuret miehet eiv\u00e4t\ntoki tekisi heille mit\u00e4\u00e4n pahaa, vaan saapuivat rauhallisin aikein.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n kaiken tajuttuansa he laskivat pois keih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja jousensa, ja\nl\u00e4heniv\u00e4t pystytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n maahan rauhan merkiksi kaksitoista isoa salkoa,\nalistumisen osotukseksi kumarrellen. Mutta oitis n\u00e4hty\u00e4ns\u00e4 parrakkaita\nvalkoisia miehi\u00e4 he kirkuen juoksivat tiehens\u00e4 kuin s\u00e4ikkynein\u00e4.\nMe pysyttelimme heist\u00e4 arvomme mukaisen matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja n\u00e4ytt\u00e4ysimme\nvain kaksi tai kolme kerrallaan. Vankimme selittiv\u00e4t meid\u00e4n haluavan\nheilt\u00e4 ruokavaroja, ja he toivat n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4ksemme mustaa nautakarjaa.\nVeitsisep\u00e4ll\u00e4mme oli nyt runsas varasto k\u00e4ttens\u00e4 tuotteita valmiina;\nh\u00e4n tuli mainiosti toimeen kaupoissa heid\u00e4n kanssaan. Varasimme\nmukaamme niin paljon lihaa ja juuria kuin saatoimme neekerien\ntaakoiksi mukavasti jakaa, kolme-, nelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4 naulaa miest\u00e4 kohti,\nmik\u00e4 mielest\u00e4mme oli tosiaan kuormaa kylliksi noin kuumassa maassa.\nNeekerit eiv\u00e4t ollenkaan rasittuneet niist\u00e4, joskus vain auttelivat\ntoisiansa jonkun tuntiessa v\u00e4symyst\u00e4; ja kun enin osa matkatarpeistamme\nt\u00e4ten oli ruokavaroja, niin kevenih\u00e4n kuorma sit\u00e4paitsi aina p\u00e4iv\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4lt\u00e4, kunnes taas saimme sit\u00e4 t\u00e4ydennellyksi. Kuormia kantaessaan\noli neekereill\u00e4 k\u00e4det vapaina, heid\u00e4t pidettiin toisesta jalastaan\nsidottuina kaksittain yhteen.\nV\u00e4hitellen p\u00e4\u00e4stimme joitakuita neekereit\u00e4 kokonaan vapaiksi, saatuamme\nheid\u00e4n prinssins\u00e4 vakuutuksen heid\u00e4n uskollisuudestaan. Kaksi heist\u00e4\nsai muutaman p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua l\u00e4hte\u00e4 t\u00e4hystelem\u00e4\u00e4n mets\u00e4nriistaa,\nja taitavastipa he jousihaan kaatoivatkin er\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 hein\u00e4tasangolla\ntapaamastansa isosta hirvilaumasta kolme muhkeata haarasarvea. N\u00e4m\u00e4\nolivat ensim\u00e4inen koko maamatkallamme kaadettu riista, ja s\u00f6imme\nsuurella ruokahalulla. Aloimme opettaa prinssi\u00e4mmekin sy\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n meid\u00e4n\ntavallamme valmistettua lihaa, ja neekerit piankin seurasivat h\u00e4nen\nesimerkki\u00e4ns\u00e4, ennen enimm\u00e4kseen k\u00e4ytetty\u00e4ns\u00e4 lihaa ainoastaan raakana.\nOlisimme nyt suoneet ottaneemme enemm\u00e4n jousia ja nuolia mukaamme,\nkuten olisimme voineet. Neekerimme p\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t yh\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n kulkemaan\nirrallaan, vakuutettuja kun olimme siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t j\u00e4tt\u00e4isi\nmeit\u00e4 eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 ilman meit\u00e4 osaisikaan pyrki\u00e4 minnek\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in. Mutta\npyssyjemme lataamista emme heille uskoneet emmek\u00e4 ilmaisseet; he\nj\u00e4iv\u00e4t siihen uskoon, ett\u00e4 pyssyill\u00e4mme oli joku taivaallinen voima,\njoka tuiskautteli tulta ja savua, puhuen hirmuisin jyr\u00e4hdyksin ja\nk\u00e4skyst\u00e4mme tappaen matkan p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 mit\u00e4 vain tahdoimme.\nPetoja aloimme edemm\u00e4ksi joutuessamme n\u00e4hd\u00e4 runsaammin, kuten\nelefantteja ja leijonia, ensi kertaa el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4mme. Huomasimme neekerien\npelk\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4n niit\u00e4 paljoa enemm\u00e4n kuin me itse, varsinkin syyst\u00e4 ett\u00e4\nolivat melkein kokonaan vailla omia vakituisia aseitansa; mutta\nolivathan meid\u00e4n pyssymme sent\u00e4\u00e4n ainaisena turvana. Me taasen\nhalusimme s\u00e4\u00e4stell\u00e4 ruutiamme, kun tuollaisten otuksien tappamisesta ei\nollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n hy\u00f6ty\u00e4, sill\u00e4 emmeh\u00e4n voineet raahata nahkoja mukanamme\nja lihat eiv\u00e4t kelvanneet sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4ksi. Senvuoksi pidimme muutamissa\npyssyiss\u00e4mme ruutia ainoastaan sankkireij\u00e4ss\u00e4, jossa leimahtaessaan se\ns\u00e4ikytteli leijonatkin suoraap\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 pakosalle.\nVirran yl\u00e4juoksun varrella tapailimme tihe\u00e4ss\u00e4 alkuasukkaita,\nmelkein jokaisen kymmenen engl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 eri heimon, joka\nei naapuriensa kielt\u00e4 osannut. Kaikkialla oli runsaasti karjaa;\ner\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 neekerikaupungissa huomasimme viljelt\u00e4v\u00e4n riissinkaltaista\nhyv\u00e4nmakuista viljakasvia, jota itsellemme vaihdettuamme valmistimme\nhiilill\u00e4 paistamalla varsin hyv\u00e4\u00e4 leip\u00e4\u00e4. Ruokavarojen puolesta tulimme\nsiis oivallisesti toimeen.\nSamosimme arviolta kahdestakymmenest\u00e4 viiteenkolmatta engl. penikulmaan\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4. Kohottuamme viel\u00e4 toisenkin sel\u00e4nteen yli ja sitte muutamia\np\u00e4ivi\u00e4 taivallettuamme alkoi luotsinamme toiminut tykkimiehemme\nhuomata, ett\u00e4 suuntamme ei pysynyt niin oikeana kuin olisi pit\u00e4nyt.\nJoki nimitt\u00e4in taipui hiukan pohjoista kohti, ja h\u00e4n huomautti meille\nsiit\u00e4. Jatkoimme kuitenkin viel\u00e4 kulkuamme jonkun aikaa sen tutussa\nl\u00e4heisyydess\u00e4, kunnes se lopulta haarautui pikku puroiksi. Nyt koetimme\nmuulla tavoin huolehtia parhaamme mukaan vesivarastosta. Kiipeilimme\naina korkeimmille kukkuloille t\u00e4hystelem\u00e4\u00e4n suuntiamme sellaisiin\nalaviin paikkoihin, miss\u00e4 vett\u00e4 oli saatavissa, varsinkin pysytellen\njokien varsilla mik\u00e4li vain k\u00e4vi p\u00e4ins\u00e4.\nMaaseutu pysyi rehev\u00e4n\u00e4, puita kasvoi joka taholla, jokia ja puroja\nesiintyi yhten\u00e4\u00e4n, asukkaita n\u00e4kyi jokseenkin joka paikassa. Siten\ntulimme jokseenkin hyvin toimeen kaiken kaikkiaan puolitoista kuukautta\ntaipaleelle l\u00e4hd\u00f6st\u00e4mme asti. Emme sitoneet itse\u00e4mme mihink\u00e4\u00e4n\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttyihin p\u00e4iv\u00e4matkoihin ja lev\u00e4hdys-aikoihin, vaan annoimme oman\nmukavuutemme ja v\u00e4kemme voinnin sen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t\u00e4.\nTaipaleemme keskiv\u00e4lill\u00e4 saavuimme alavalle tasangolle, jonka\nhuomasimme tihe\u00e4mmin asutuksi kuin mink\u00e4\u00e4n edell\u00e4 sivuuttamamme seudun.\nMutta pahaksi onneksemme olivat asukkaat riidanhaluista ja petollista\nkansaa, joka katsoi meid\u00e4t ensim\u00e4lt\u00e4 rosvoiksi ja kokoontui joukolla\nhy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n kimppuumme.\nV\u00e4kemme ensin kauhistui heit\u00e4 ja alkoi osottaa tavatonta pelkoa. Musta\nprinssimmekin n\u00e4ytti nolostuneelta. Mutta min\u00e4 myh\u00e4ilin h\u00e4nelle ja\nkysyin pyssyj\u00e4mme n\u00e4ytt\u00e4en, eik\u00f6 h\u00e4n ajatellut, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4plikk\u00e4\u00e4n kissan\n(siksi he omalla kielell\u00e4\u00e4n nimittiv\u00e4t leopardia) tappaja voisi sy\u00f6st\u00e4\nnoita alastomia olentoja tuhannen kerrallansa kuolemaan? H\u00e4n silloin\nnaurahti, sanoen pit\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4 sen varmana.\n\"No, sanoppa siis miehillesi, etteiv\u00e4t tyhji\u00e4 pelk\u00e4ile\", kehotin min\u00e4,\n\"sill\u00e4 pianpa p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4mme heid\u00e4t makuun siit\u00e4 mit\u00e4 voimme tehd\u00e4, jos he\nyritt\u00e4v\u00e4t sekaantua hommiimme.\"\nOtimme kuitenkin lukuun, ett\u00e4 me olimme keskell\u00e4 avarata maata emmek\u00e4\ntienneet kuinka runsaslukuisia kansoja oli ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4mme. Saatoimmepa\nsuuresti tarvita n\u00e4idenkin yst\u00e4vyytt\u00e4, joiden joukkoon nyt olimme\njoutuneet, ja k\u00e4skimme senvuoksi neekereit\u00e4 koettamaan kaikin\nmahdollisin keinoin hieroa heid\u00e4n yst\u00e4vyytt\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nTavallisin rauhan merkein p\u00e4\u00e4sikin kymmenmiehinen neekeril\u00e4hetyst\u00f6mme\nl\u00e4henem\u00e4\u00e4n likint\u00e4 kaupunkia ja sai sen asukkailta leluillamme\nvaihdetuksi melkoisen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n hirvenlihaa, juuria ja ennenmainitsemaani\nviljaa. Asukkaat n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t olevan ihastuksissaan saamistansa\nkoruista ja lupasivat huomenissa tuoda lis\u00e4\u00e4 ruokavaroja kaupan. He\npalasivatkin, mutta miehemme huomasivat heid\u00e4t nyt monin verroin\nlukuisammiksi kuin edellisell\u00e4 kerralla. Me emme sent\u00e4\u00e4n suurestikaan\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4styneet, sill\u00e4 me olimme l\u00e4hetyst\u00f6mme suojaksi l\u00e4hett\u00e4neet\nkymmenen pyssymiest\u00e4 seuraamaan jonkun matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 taampana, ja\nolimme kaikki muutkin n\u00e4k\u00f6s\u00e4ll\u00e4. Eik\u00e4 vihollisen petollisuus ollut niin\novelasti harkittua kuin muulloin, sill\u00e4 he olisivat voineet rauhaa\nteeskennellen saartaa aseettoman neekeril\u00e4hetyst\u00f6mme; mutta n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n\nmiestemme edenneen jokseenkin niin l\u00e4helle kuin edellisen\u00e4kin p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4\ntempasivat nuo konnat jousensa ja nuolensa ja hy\u00f6kk\u00e4siv\u00e4t p\u00e4in kuin\nraivonhenget.\nT\u00e4ll\u00f6in kymmenen asemiest\u00e4mme huusivat neekereit\u00e4 py\u00f6rt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n takaisin;\nsen n\u00e4m\u00e4 vinhasti tekiv\u00e4tkin toista k\u00e4sky\u00e4 odottamatta ja asettuivat\nsuojelusvartionsa taakse. Villit samalla porhalsivat per\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja\nampuivat satakunta nuolta, joista kaksi neekeri\u00e4mme haavoittui ja\nyksi sai surmansa. Saapuessaan paikalle, mihin neekerimme olivat\npystytt\u00e4neet viisi salkoa rauhan merkiksi, hy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4j\u00e4t toviksi\nker\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t salkojen ymp\u00e4rille, katsellen ja hypistellen niit\u00e4 ik\u00e4\u00e4n\nkuin arvaillakseen niiden merkityst\u00e4. Silloin me, jotka olimme kaikkein\ntaaimpana, l\u00e4hetimme kymmenelle miehellemme k\u00e4skyn ampua joukkoon\nsen seistess\u00e4 noin tihe\u00e4n\u00e4 ja panna pyssyihin raehauleja tavallisen\npanoksen lis\u00e4ksi, ilmottaen itsekin pian saapuvamme leikkiin.\nHe valmistausivat sik\u00e4li, ja samalla alkoikin jo musta armeija l\u00e4hte\u00e4\nj\u00e4lleen liikkeelle, vaikka se n\u00e4yttikin lis\u00e4\u00e4 v\u00e4ke\u00e4 neekerien takana\nn\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n kummastelevan mit\u00e4 me oikein olimme. Mutta jos he eiv\u00e4t\nk\u00e4sitt\u00e4neet meit\u00e4 ennen, niin sit\u00e4 v\u00e4hemmin he meit\u00e4 j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in\nk\u00e4sittiv\u00e4t, sill\u00e4 miehemme laukaisivat tiheimp\u00e4\u00e4n kohtaan oitis kun\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t heid\u00e4n k\u00e4yv\u00e4n jatkamaan rynn\u00e4kk\u00f6\u00e4. V\u00e4limatka oli arviolta\nsuunnilleen 120 metri\u00e4.\nHirve\u00e4 s\u00e4ikky ja kirkuna seurasi t\u00e4t\u00e4 ensim\u00e4ist\u00e4 laukausta. Haulit,\nrautapalat ja naulanp\u00e4\u00e4t kartuttivat haavoittuneiden lukum\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\u00e4,\nkuolleina j\u00e4i tantereelle kuusi. Toiset olivat kuin puusta pudonneita,\nkykenem\u00e4tt\u00e4 k\u00e4sitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n mill\u00e4 tavoin heid\u00e4n toveriensa ruumiisiin oli\ntullut tuhoisia reiki\u00e4. Tuli ja pamahtelu pelotti naiset ja lapset\nj\u00e4rjilt\u00e4\u00e4n, niin ett\u00e4 he juoksentelivat mielipuolina ulvoen.\nMutta t\u00e4st\u00e4 kaikesta huolimatta he eiv\u00e4t paenneet, kuten tarkotuksemme\noli ollut, emmek\u00e4 my\u00f6sk\u00e4\u00e4n huomanneet kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n heist\u00e4 py\u00f6rtyv\u00e4n\npelosta, kuten ensi kertaa Afrikan mantereella taistellessamme.\nP\u00e4\u00e4timme yritt\u00e4\u00e4 toista yhteislaukausta ja sitte hy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4 p\u00e4in, kuten\nolimme silloinkin tehneet. Varav\u00e4kemme astui esille; kolmen miehen piti\nampua kerrallaan, kaikkien edetess\u00e4 yht'aikaa. Riviksi j\u00e4rjestytty\u00e4mme\nme siten ammuimme aina kolme miest\u00e4 vuoronsa j\u00e4lkeen; aina kaatui ja\nhaavoittui uusia onnettomia, mutta yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n eiv\u00e4t ahdistajamme\nk\u00e4\u00e4ntyneet pakosalle, vaikka olivatkin niin s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksiss\u00e4\u00e4n, ettei\nyksik\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt joustansa tahi keih\u00e4st\u00e4ns\u00e4. Heid\u00e4n lukum\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ns\u00e4\ntuntui vain lis\u00e4\u00e4ntyv\u00e4n, ainakin h\u00e4lin\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en. K\u00e4skin senvuoksi\nmiesten seisahtua, ampua yhteislaukauksen ja sitte hurraten rynn\u00e4t\u00e4\niskem\u00e4\u00e4n heid\u00e4t maahan musketeillansa.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 koeteltu keino toki tehosi; he pinttiv\u00e4t tiehens\u00e4 jokainen\nken kynsille kykeni. Tappotantereella n\u00e4imme seitsem\u00e4nnelj\u00e4tt\u00e4\nruumista, joukossa kolme naista; haavoittuneista oli nelj\u00e4seitsem\u00e4tt\u00e4\nj\u00e4\u00e4nyt paikalle vammojensa johdosta. Meid\u00e4n neekerimme surmasivat\ntunnottomasti n\u00e4m\u00e4 j\u00e4lkim\u00e4iset, ja siit\u00e4 me olimme kovasti\nkiukuissamme, uhaten antaa heille saman kohtalon, jos vastakertana niin\nmenettelisiv\u00e4t.\nSotasaaliikseemme j\u00e4i runsaat m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t jousia ja nuolia, joista meill\u00e4\nsittemmin oli paljon hy\u00f6ty\u00e4. Neekerimme saivat sitte haalituksi\nkokoon jonkun verran ruokavaroja, viel\u00e4p\u00e4 nelj\u00e4 ty\u00f6juhdiksi\nkesytetty\u00e4 sonniakin, mik\u00e4 oli parasta kaikista. Ne oli helppo tuntea\nkuormanly\u00f6ttymist\u00e4 kupeillansa. N\u00e4iden avulla saimme kuljetetuksi\nmukanamme enemm\u00e4n ruokavaroja, samalla kun ne toisin ajoin kevensiv\u00e4t\nneekerien vakinaisia taakkoja.\nT\u00e4ss\u00e4 kaupungissa tapasimme pikkaraisen nuoren leopardin; se oli aivan\nkesy ja kehr\u00e4si kuin kissa, kun silittelimme sen selk\u00e4\u00e4 -- villit\nn\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti olivat kasvattaneet sit\u00e4 kuin talonkoiraa. Musta prinssimme\nse autioiksi j\u00e4tetyill\u00e4 kujilla kuljeksiessaan sai k\u00e4siins\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n\notuksen, hyv\u00e4ili sit\u00e4 ja houkutti sen mukaansa parilla lihapalalla.\nT\u00e4lt\u00e4 tienoolta samosimme edelleen parin viikon ajan. Saavuimme silloin\nkamalan jyrkk\u00e4\u00e4n vuoristoon, jonka yli meid\u00e4n oli pakko pyrki\u00e4 niist\u00e4\nvain parhaiten luulimme p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4mme. Tasangolla olimme tavanneet useita\nvilliheimoja, joiden kanssa olimme taas tulleet hyvin toimeen, ja\nheid\u00e4n olimme ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4neet merkeill\u00e4 selittelev\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 vuorten takana\noli laaja er\u00e4maa, niiss\u00e4 tapaisimme runsaasti leijonia ja leopardeja ja\nmiss\u00e4 meill\u00e4 pit\u00e4isi olla vesivaroja mukanamme. Viimeisen heimon luona\nhankimme niin paljon ruokavaroja kuin kuljettamaan kykenimme, koska\nemme tienneet millaisia vaiheita olisi edess\u00e4mme. Tehd\u00e4ksemme tuon\ntaipaleen niin turvalliseksi kuin mahdollista esitin, ett\u00e4 ottaisimme\ner\u00e4maan rajalta joitakuita vankeja oppaiksemme ja avuksi ruokavarojen\nkantamisessa, ehk\u00e4p\u00e4 hankkimisessakin. Neuvo oli v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4t\u00f6n, ja\nsaatuamme merkkien avulla selville, ett\u00e4 vuorten juurella toisella\npuolen asui joku kansa, p\u00e4\u00e4timme sielt\u00e4 saada oppaita mukaamme\nvapaaehtoisesti tahi v\u00e4kisin.\nKohtuullisen arvion mukaan olimme nyt p\u00e4\u00e4sseet 700 engl. penikulmaa\nrannikolta. Musta prinssi sai t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 k\u00e4sivartensa vapaaksi\nsilmukasta ja h\u00e4nen maanmiehens\u00e4 kovin ihmetteliv\u00e4t n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nen\nranteensa ihan terveeksi. Nopeasti olivat my\u00f6skin paranemassa kaksi\nedellisess\u00e4 kahakassa haavoittunutta neekeri\u00e4mme, sill\u00e4 haaval\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4rimme\noli varsin taitava mies.\nVIIDES LUKU.\nKultavirralla Sis\u00e4-Afrikassa.\nSuunnattomin ponnistuksin palailtuamme n\u00e4iden vuorten yli ja\nsaadessamme niiden takana avautuvan maan n\u00e4kyviimme, olipa n\u00e4k\u00f6ala\nomiansa j\u00e4rkytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n lujintakin syd\u00e4nt\u00e4. Siell\u00e4 levisi rajaton\napo autio er\u00e4maa -- ei puuta, ei pensasta, ei hituakaan vehreytt\u00e4\npilkahtanut mist\u00e4\u00e4n. Niin kauvas kuin silm\u00e4 kantoi ei n\u00e4kynyt muuta\nkuin hehkuvata hiekkaa, jota tuuli p\u00f6ll\u00e4ytteli sek\u00e4 ihmiselle ett\u00e4\nelukalle vaarallisina pilvin\u00e4. Eik\u00e4 se n\u00e4kynyt rajottuvan edess\u00e4 p\u00e4in,\nei vasemmalla eik\u00e4 oikeallakaan, joten miehemme alkoivat toden teolla\nlannistua ja puhella takaisin py\u00f6rt\u00e4misest\u00e4. Tuntui mahdottomalta\nuskaltaa yritt\u00e4\u00e4 moisen aavikon yli, joka n\u00e4ytti varmalta kuolemalta\nkaikille matkamiehille.\nLannistavasti vaikutti minuunkin n\u00e4ky, mutta silti en siet\u00e4nyt\najatellakaan paluuta. Huomauttelin heille, ett\u00e4 olimme marssineet 700\nengl. penikulmaa taipaleestamme ja ett\u00e4 takaisin yritt\u00e4minen olisi\npahempi kuolemaa. Jos he pitiv\u00e4t mahdottomana samota er\u00e4maan halki,\nniin piti meid\u00e4n mielest\u00e4ni pikemmin muuttaa suuntaamme ja tunkeutua\netel\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in, kunnes saapuisimme Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemelle, tai pohjoiseen\nNiilin varrella olevaa maata kohti, niiss\u00e4 kenties keksisimme jonkun\ntien l\u00e4nsirannikolle, sill\u00e4 eih\u00e4n toki kaikkialla voisi er\u00e4maa sattua\neteemme.\nOlen jo sanonut, ett\u00e4 tykkimies toimi oppaanamme paikkojen asemiin\nn\u00e4hden. H\u00e4n ei sanonut voivansa virkkaa mit\u00e4\u00e4n Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemelle\nyritt\u00e4misest\u00e4, sill\u00e4 se taival oli suunnilleen kokonaista 1500 engl.\npenikulmaa, ja h\u00e4nen laskelmiensa mukaan olimme nyt suorittaneet\nkolmanneksen matkasta Angolan rannikolle, mist\u00e4 varmasti p\u00e4\u00e4sisimme\nl\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n kotiin. Toiselta puolen, vakuutti h\u00e4n meille karttaa\nn\u00e4ytellen, ulottui Afrikan l\u00e4nsirannikko pohjoisempana tuhatkunta\nengl. penikulmaa kauvemmas l\u00e4nteen. Jos siis tekisimme kaarroksen\npohjoisempaan, niin olisi meill\u00e4 j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in noin paljoa pitempi\nmaamatka edess\u00e4mme, ja seutu saattaisi siell\u00e4 olla yht\u00e4 karu kuin\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4kin. H\u00e4n ei sen vuoksi kyennyt muuta esitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, kuin ett\u00e4\nkoettaisimme p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n er\u00e4maan yli, joka kenties ei ollutkaan niin\npitk\u00e4 kuin pelk\u00e4simme. Ainakin piti meid\u00e4n katsoa kuinka pitk\u00e4lle\nkykenisimme etenem\u00e4\u00e4n ruoka- ja etenkin vesivarojemme puolesta, Emme\nl\u00e4htisi kauvemmas kuin puolella vesivarastollamme ehtisimme, ja ellei\ner\u00e4maan rajaa silloin n\u00e4kyisi, niin saisimme turvallisesti palatuksi\ntakaisin.\nNeuvo oli niin j\u00e4rkev\u00e4, ett\u00e4 me hyv\u00e4ksyimme sen kaikki. Arvioitsimme\nvoivamme kuljettaa mukanamme ruokavaroja kahdeksiviidett\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi,\nmutta vett\u00e4 emme saisi riitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n yli kahdenkymmenen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n, ja lopulla\nsen t\u00e4ytyisi silti jo olla jokseenkin pilaantunutta. P\u00e4\u00e4timme siis\npalata, ellemme kymmeneen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n tapaisi vett\u00e4, mutta jos joutuisimme\njollekulle l\u00e4hteelle, niin voisimme samota kaikkiaan kolme viikkoa\nennen kuin paluu pahimmassa tapauksessa k\u00e4visi v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4ksi.\nPainuimmepa siis vuorten kupeita alas ja vasta toisena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4simme\nvarsinaiselle tasangolle. Onneksi l\u00f6ysimme sielt\u00e4 siev\u00e4n pikku puron,\nylt\u00e4kyllin hirvi\u00e4 sek\u00e4 jonkunlaisia j\u00e4niksen tapaisia otuksia, joiden\nliha oli varsin maukasta. Mutta tietomme aavikon laidan asutuksesta\nosottausivat erehdytt\u00e4viksi, sill\u00e4 me emme n\u00e4hneet miss\u00e4\u00e4n ihmisi\u00e4.\nJ\u00e4imme siten vaille oppaita ja lis\u00e4kantajia.\nRiistan runsauden tietysti vaikutti er\u00e4maan l\u00e4heisyys, otukset kun\npist\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t sielt\u00e4 t\u00e4nne vehmaalle keitaalle. Valmistimme varastoksemme\nlujasti lihaa ja monenlaisia juuria, joita neekerimme tunsivat\nparemmin kuin me, ja joita k\u00e4ytimme leiv\u00e4n asemesta. Vett\u00e4 varasimme\nkahdeksikymmeneksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi, kaksi kolmanneslitraa p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4 kutakin\nneekeri\u00e4 kohti, litran itse\u00e4mme ja kaksi litraa kutakin puhveliamme\nkohti. Siten kuormitettuina pitk\u00e4\u00e4 viheli\u00e4ist\u00e4 taivallusta varten\nl\u00e4ksimme matkaan, kaikki tervein\u00e4 ja reippaina, mutta emme kaikki yht\u00e4\nvoimakkaina noin uuvuttavaa yrityst\u00e4 kest\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n.\nHeti alussa tuskaannuimme huomatessamme hiekan niin vajottavaksi\nja polttavaksi, ett\u00e4 seitsemisen engl. penikulmaa kahlattuamme\nolimme menehty\u00e4. Neekeritkin heitt\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t hiekalle l\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4tt\u00e4en kuin\nviimeisillens\u00e4 rasitetut juhdat. Erilaiset y\u00f6pymis-olot niinik\u00e4\u00e4n\ntuottivat suurta haittaa. Tavallisestihan olimme kyh\u00e4nneet majoja\nsuojaksi n\u00e4iss\u00e4 kuumissa maissa vahingolliselta y\u00f6-ilmalta, mutta\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ei meill\u00e4 ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n suojaa. Kamaluutta lis\u00e4siv\u00e4t pime\u00e4n\ntullen susien ulvonta, leijonien karjahdukset, villiaasien inuminen ja\nmonet meille tajuamattomat karmivat \u00e4\u00e4net.\nKaduimme varomattomuuttamme, kun emme olleet tuoneet mukanamme edes\nsalkoja, joita olisimme voineet \u00f6isin k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 paaluaitauksina,\nsaadaksemme olla ainakin pedoilta turvassa. Jonkunlaisen teltin\ntapaisen saimme kuitenkin syntym\u00e4\u00e4n keih\u00e4ittemme, takkiemme ja\ntaljojemme avulla, nukkuen v\u00e4symyksemme johdosta hyvinkin sike\u00e4sti\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n ensim\u00e4isen y\u00f6mme, kahden oman miehemme vuorotellessa vartijoina\npyssy k\u00e4dess\u00e4. N\u00e4iden t\u00e4ytyi alituiseen s\u00e4ikytell\u00e4 ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\nhiipailevia petoja sankkiruudin leimautteluilla.\nAamulla olimme surkeasti voipuneita. Musta prinssi antoi nyt meille\nhyv\u00e4n neuvon. H\u00e4n vakuutti, ett\u00e4 henkemme oli ilmeisess\u00e4 vaarassa,\njos etenisimme n\u00e4in huonosti varustettuina; meid\u00e4n piti palata\ntakaisin puron partaalle, ottaa sielt\u00e4 mukaamme salkoja ja punoa\nsiell\u00e4 nilamattoja, jotta saisimme kunnollista leirilepoa, vaikkapa\njoutuisimmekin siten tyytym\u00e4\u00e4n niukempiin muona-kantamuksiin. Ja niinp\u00e4\nme koreasti k\u00e4\u00e4nnyimme takaisin, taipaleella onnellisesti v\u00e4ist\u00e4en\ntakaap\u00e4in suunnattomassa p\u00f6lypilvess\u00e4 laukkaavan elefantti parven, joka\noli samoamassa juomapaikalleen.\nUudesta hommastamme oli sekin ensin havaitsemattamme j\u00e4\u00e4nyt hy\u00f6ty,\nett\u00e4 salkojen avulla saivat neekerit kaksittain kannetuksi entist\u00e4\nrunsaamminkin ruoka- ja vesivaroja, s\u00e4lytt\u00e4en matot selk\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4;\ntulos oli siten p\u00e4invastainen kuin olimme arvelleet. Kahdeksan\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua l\u00e4ksimme uusin varustuksin j\u00e4lleen matkalle. Suurta\nlievennyst\u00e4 tuotti meille edellisen y\u00f6n rankka sade, joka teki piankin\nkuivuvan hiekan syvemm\u00e4lt\u00e4 kovemmaksi ja jaloillemme viile\u00e4mm\u00e4ksi.\nSiten saimme nyt ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 samotuksi suunnilleen nelj\u00e4toista\nengl. penikulmaa, entisten seitsem\u00e4n asemesta, ja paljoa keve\u00e4mm\u00e4ll\u00e4\npunnerruksella.\nLeiriytyess\u00e4mme oli kaikki tuossa tuokiossa valmiina, sill\u00e4 me olimme\njo ty\u00f6paikallamme kertaalleen kokeeksi pystytt\u00e4neet telttimme. Vajaassa\ntunnissa oli pyst\u00f6ss\u00e4 tilava telttimme, jossa oli sisempi ja ulompi\nosasto sek\u00e4 kaksi oviaukkoa. Toisessa makasimme me, toisessa neekerit,\nkeveit\u00e4 mattoja verhonamme ja alustanamme. Puhveleillamme oli oma\npikku alansa ulkopuolella, sill\u00e4 ne ansaitsivat kaikkea mahdollista\nhuolenpitoa suuren hy\u00f6dyllisyytens\u00e4 vuoksi, jotapaitsi ne kantoivat\nomat muona- ja vesivaransa. Niille sy\u00f6tettiin er\u00e4it\u00e4 mustan prinssimme\nneuvomia mehukkaita ja ravitsevia juuria, joita oli runsaasti kasvanut\nkaikkialla paitsi t\u00e4ss\u00e4 hirmuisessa er\u00e4maassa.\nKahdeksan p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 samottuamme n\u00e4ytti kaikki yh\u00e4 yht\u00e4 autiolta ja\nhedelm\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4lt\u00e4 kuin alussakin. Ainoana muutoksena oli se, ettei\nhiekka ollut en\u00e4\u00e4 miss\u00e4\u00e4n niin syv\u00e4\u00e4 ja raskasta kuin ensim\u00e4isin\u00e4\nkolmena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4. Syyn\u00e4 t\u00e4h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4ttelimme olevan sen, ett\u00e4 tuuli\npuhaltaa vuorotellen kuusi kuukautta l\u00e4nnest\u00e4 ja id\u00e4st\u00e4, jolloin hiekka\netup\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 kasautui vuoriston suojaamalle er\u00e4maan laidalle l\u00e4nsimyrskyn\nvaikutuksesta.\nYhdeks\u00e4nten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 n\u00e4imme ison j\u00e4rven, ja sen voipi arvata kuinka\nriemastuttava n\u00e4ky se oli meille, vett\u00e4 kun oli en\u00e4\u00e4 pariksi, kolmeksi\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi j\u00e4ljell\u00e4 s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4v\u00e4isimminkin k\u00e4ytt\u00e4en -- tarkotan eteenp\u00e4in\nmatkustamista varten, sill\u00e4 meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi ehdottomasti varata\nmahdollinen paluumatka turvalliseksi. Vesivarojamme oli riitt\u00e4nyt kahta\np\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 kauvemmin kuin olimme odottaneet, sill\u00e4 puhvelimme olivat parin\nkolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikana tavanneet er\u00e4st\u00e4 hiekassa lev\u00e4ll\u00e4\u00e4n rehottavaa\nkasvia, jota ne ahnaasti s\u00f6iv\u00e4t rehuksensa ja jonka litte\u00e4t haarat\nsis\u00e4lsiv\u00e4t runsaasti vett\u00e4.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 saavuimme j\u00e4rven reunaan, hyv\u00e4ksi onneksemme\netel\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 pohjoisessa emme n\u00e4hneet sen rajaa. Sivuutimme sen\nja samosimme kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 sen partailla suureksi kevennykseksemme,\nsill\u00e4 meid\u00e4n ei tarvinnut kantaa mukanamme vett\u00e4 niin kauvan kuin se\npysyi tiemme varrella. Mutta er\u00e4maassa emme mit\u00e4\u00e4n mainittavaa muutosta\nn\u00e4hneet, emme puita emmek\u00e4 pensaita; vain muutamia kasvilajeja ilmestyi\nlis\u00e4\u00e4, jotta aavikon v\u00e4ri hiukan muuttui. Raatelevia petoja esiintyi\nkuitenkin yh\u00e4 entist\u00e4ns\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n.\nEsitin tykkimiehellemme, ett\u00e4 kun olimme nyt kaksi viikkoa vaeltaneet\nlev\u00e4ht\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 ja kun meill\u00e4 oli t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 vett\u00e4 kylliksi eik\u00e4 viel\u00e4 ruuasta\npuutetta, lepuuttaisimme v\u00e4ke\u00e4mme tovin ja samalla katsoisimme, eik\u00f6\nolisi mit\u00e4\u00e4n sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 riistaa pyydystett\u00e4viss\u00e4mme. Tykkimies oli\nsamaa mielt\u00e4, viel\u00e4p\u00e4 lis\u00e4si, ett\u00e4 voisimmehan koettaa kalastellakin\nj\u00e4rvell\u00e4. Sepp\u00e4taiturimme joutui kovalle koetukselle koukuista,\nmutta ahertamalla h\u00e4n suoriutui teht\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n aika n\u00e4pp\u00e4r\u00e4sti ja me\nongiskelimme useammanlaisia kaloja. Kuinka ne olivat j\u00e4rveen tulleet,\nsen tiet\u00e4\u00e4 ainoastaan H\u00e4n, joka teki j\u00e4rven ja koko maailman; sill\u00e4\nvarmasti eiv\u00e4t ihmisk\u00e4det konsanaan olleet sinne kaloja istuttaneet\neiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 ennemmin sielt\u00e4 yl\u00f6s nostaneet. Useita isoja kaloja\nkuivasimmekin auringon paisteessa kelpo lis\u00e4ksi muonavaroihimme.\nLep\u00e4ilimme siten viisi, p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, joll'aikaa meill\u00e4 oli monia mieluisia\nseikkailuja villien petojen parissa; kerron niist\u00e4 kuitenkin vain kaksi\ntapausta.\nToinen niist\u00e4 oli naarasleijonan ja ison hirven kilpajuoksu. Vaikka\nhirvi on tavattoman nopea otus ja viuhahti ohitsemme kuin tuuli,\nollen kolmisensataa metri\u00e4 ahdistajastaan edell\u00e4, niin huomasimme\nleijonan lyhent\u00e4v\u00e4n v\u00e4limatkaa sitke\u00e4ll\u00e4 voimallaan ja keuhkojensa\nkest\u00e4vyydell\u00e4. Ne sivuuttivat meid\u00e4t puolen kilometrin p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja\nseurasimme niit\u00e4 kauvas katseillamme. Tunnin verran j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in\nhuomasimme kummaksemme niiden tulla tuiskivan takaisin toiselta\npuoleltamme, ja silloin oli leijona en\u00e4\u00e4 kolmen- tai nelj\u00e4nkymmenen\nmetrin p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 saaliistansa. Molemmat ponnistivat viimeisetkin voimansa,\nkunnes hirvi j\u00e4rven rantaan ehtiess\u00e4\u00e4n sy\u00f6ks\u00e4hti veteen ja ui henkens\u00e4\nedest\u00e4 kuten oli juossutkin. Leijona s\u00e4nt\u00e4si per\u00e4ss\u00e4, uiden jonkun\nmatkaa, mutta k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi takaisin. Rannalle kavuttuaan se p\u00e4\u00e4sti kamalan\n\u00e4rjynn\u00e4n tappionsa raivossa.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 aamuna varahin n\u00e4imme toisen takaa-ajon, joka koski\nmeit\u00e4 likeisemmin. Mustan prinssimme k\u00e4velless\u00e4 j\u00e4rven rannalla\nkarkasi vedest\u00e4 julman iso krokotiili h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ahdistamaan,\nja nopsajalkaisuudestaan huolimatta oli h\u00e4nell\u00e4 t\u00e4ysi ty\u00f6\npelastautumisessaan. H\u00e4n viiletti suoraan meit\u00e4 kohti, ja totisesti\nolimme ymm\u00e4ll\u00e4 mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4, sill\u00e4 olimme kuulleet, ettei tuohon\nkuvatukseen pysty luoti. Eik\u00e4 kolme kovaa laukausta tosiaan tehonnut\nsiihen v\u00e4hint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, kunnes uljas ja kylm\u00e4verinen tykkimies suorastaan\nk\u00e4veli hirvi\u00f6n luo, ty\u00f6nsi pyssyn piipun sen kitaan ja laukaisi,\nsamassa heitt\u00e4en aseensa ja ponnahtaen syrj\u00e4\u00e4n. Peto riehui melkoisen\ntovin ja kohdisti raivonsa pyssyyn, purren sen rautaankin merkkej\u00e4\nhampaillaan, mutta voipui sitte ja heitti henkens\u00e4.\nNeekerit saivat j\u00e4rven rannoilla vaaniskellessaan kaadetuksi kolme\nhirve\u00e4, joista kaksi hyvin pient\u00e4. J\u00e4rvess\u00e4 liikkui my\u00f6s vesilintuja,\nmutta niit\u00e4 emme saaneet l\u00e4hestytyksi ampumamatkan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n. Tapoimme\nmy\u00f6skin pari kolme sivettikissaa, mutta niiden liha on pahinta lajia\nraatoa. Et\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 n\u00e4imme runsaasti elefantteja ja huomasimme niiden aina\nkulkevan isoin laumoin, taistelurintamassa. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 tavoin ne torjuvat\nvihollisiansa, sili\u00e4 jos leijonain tai susien tekisi mieli k\u00e4yd\u00e4 niiden\nkimppuun, niin ne pitk\u00e4n\u00e4 rivin\u00e4 ollen saavat varmasti tallatuksi\nalleen mit\u00e4 tielle sattuu ja k\u00e4rs\u00e4ll\u00e4\u00e4n viskotuksi vihaisimpia\nvastustajia silmilt\u00e4\u00e4n pois. Isoimmatkin petoparvet v\u00e4ist\u00e4v\u00e4t sen\nvuoksi tuollaista laumaa, jos ehtiv\u00e4t sen kaartamaan, sill\u00e4 muutoin\non varma tuho seurauksena. N\u00e4m\u00e4 j\u00e4ttil\u00e4iset esiintyiv\u00e4t tavattoman\nlukuisina, ja paljon n\u00e4imme niiden luurankojakin kallisarvoisine\nhampainensa tiemme vieress\u00e4.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 iltana meit\u00e4 kohtasi suuri yll\u00e4tys. Olimme useimmat jo\nlaskeutuneet matoillemme nukkumaan, kun vartijamme rynt\u00e4siv\u00e4t keskeemme\ns\u00e4ikkynein\u00e4 muutamien leijonien \u00e4killisest\u00e4 karjunnasta, n\u00e4iden p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4\npime\u00e4n suojassa ihan heid\u00e4n viereens\u00e4. Niit\u00e4 oli, kuten n\u00e4ytt\u00e4ysi,\nkookas vanha koiras ja sen koko perhe, nimitt\u00e4in emo ja kolme penikkaa.\nYksi penikoista -- jotka olivat vauraita nekin -- hypp\u00e4si er\u00e4\u00e4n\nvartiopalveluksessa olevan neekerimme kimppuun ennen kuin mies sit\u00e4\nn\u00e4kik\u00e4\u00e4n, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 se kauhistuneena sy\u00f6ks\u00e4hti etumaisena telttiimme.\nToisella miehell\u00e4 oli pyssy, mutta h\u00e4nell\u00e4 ei ensim\u00e4lt\u00e4 ollut malttia\nampua petoa, h\u00e4n vain iski sit\u00e4 pyssyntyvell\u00e4. Otus vinkaisi, ja\npuhkesi sitte kamalasti murisemaan, miehen puikkiessa meid\u00e4n suojaamme.\nMe hyp\u00e4hdimme jaloillemme, kolme miest\u00e4 sieppasi pyssyns\u00e4 ja juoksi\noviaukkoon, ampuen petojen keskeen miss\u00e4 n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t vanhan koiraan silmien\nhehkuvan. Pedot per\u00e4ytyiv\u00e4t ja \u00e4rjyiv\u00e4t t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 kurkkua, jolloin niit\u00e4\nkertyi paikalle yh\u00e4 lis\u00e4\u00e4, pit\u00e4en niin huumaavaa meteli\u00e4 kuin olisivat\ner\u00e4maan kaikki pedot ker\u00e4ytyneet meit\u00e4 raatelemaan.\n\"Min\u00e4 menn\u00e4\", mongersi musta prinssi meid\u00e4n kielell\u00e4mme, \"pelottamaan\nkaikki ne.\"\nH\u00e4n sieppasi pari kehnointa mattoamme, sitoi aluksi toisen niist\u00e4\nseip\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4rkeen, sytytti sen ja huiskutteli sit\u00e4 tovin ymp\u00e4riins\u00e4.\nPedot kaikkosivat paikalla, sill\u00e4 niiden meteli kuului nyt paljoa\net\u00e4\u00e4mp\u00e4n\u00e4.\n\"No\", virkkoi tykkimiehemme, \"jos tuollainen riitt\u00e4\u00e4, niin ei meid\u00e4n\nole tarvis mattojamme polttaa, sill\u00e4 niit\u00e4h\u00e4n k\u00e4yt\u00e4mme sek\u00e4 alusina\nett\u00e4 peittein\u00e4. Antakaa kun min\u00e4 k\u00e4yn toimeen.\"\nJa h\u00e4n palasi telttiimme, ryhtyen valmistamaan ilotulitusvehkeit\u00e4;\nniit\u00e4 h\u00e4n antoi vartijoillemme tarpeen tullen k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi, t\u00e4ll\u00e4\nkertaa kiinnitt\u00e4en \u00e4skeiseen seip\u00e4\u00e4seen sellaisen roihun, ett\u00e4 kaikki\npedot h\u00e4visiv\u00e4t kerrassaan kuulumattomiin.\nMutta moinen seura alkoi meit\u00e4 kuitenkin v\u00e4sytt\u00e4\u00e4, ja siit\u00e4 eroon\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksemme l\u00e4ksimme j\u00e4lleen matkalle kahta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 aikaisemmin kuin\nolimme aikoneet. Laidun k\u00e4vi yh\u00e4 paremmaksi, ja j\u00e4rveen juoksi useampia\npikku jokia, joten ei tullut vedest\u00e4 pulaa. Siten samosimme viel\u00e4\nkuusitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, ennen kuin maaper\u00e4 alkoi v\u00e4hitellen nousta, niin\nverkalleen, ett\u00e4 vasta kolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua \u00e4kki\u00e4 huomasimme olevamme\nhyvin korkean vuoristoharjanteen laella, vaikkei se ollut niin korkea\nkuin edellinen.\nRajattomaksi riemuksemme n\u00e4imme nyt er\u00e4maan loppuneen. Ison virran\nhalkaisema mets\u00e4inen maisema levisi eteemme. Er\u00e4maa oli vienyt meilt\u00e4\nnelj\u00e4nelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja lis\u00e4nnyt nelisensataa engl. penikulmaa\ntaipaleesemme, joten nyt olimme edenneet kaikkiaan noin 1,100 engl.\npenikulmaa. Seuraavana aamuna lep\u00e4ilimme jo muutamien siimeisten puiden\nvarjossa, jotka nyt tuottivat meille sanomatonta virkistyst\u00e4, oltuamme\nyli kuukauden ajan herke\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4ss\u00e4 helteess\u00e4. Hirvi\u00e4 n\u00e4kyi olevan\nrunsaasti, ja muutamia niist\u00e4 joutui piankin saaliiksemme, samoin\nkuin er\u00e4it\u00e4 vuohen n\u00e4k\u00f6isi\u00e4 otuksia joiden liha maistui oivalliselta.\nLintuja oli niinik\u00e4\u00e4n saatavissa, joten tulimme mainiosti toimeen,\njoskin leijonat hiukan laimensivat riemuamme, h\u00e4iriten meit\u00e4 melkein\njoka y\u00f6; elefantteja taasen emme n\u00e4ill\u00e4 seuduin ollenkaan n\u00e4hneet.\nKolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 samottuamme saavuimme virralle, jonka olimme jo vuoriston\nlaelta n\u00e4hneet. Se oli ensim\u00e4inen matkallemme sattunut pohjoiseen\njuokseva virta, hyvinkin vuolas, ja tykkimies vakuutteli minulle\nkarttansa avulla, ett\u00e4 se oli joko Niili itse tahi ainakin laski siihen\nisoon j\u00e4rveen, josta Niilin sanottiin alkunsa saavan.\n\"Miksi emme rakentaisi muutamia kanootteja\", esitti h\u00e4n,\n\"laskeutuaksemme alas t\u00e4t\u00e4 virtaa mieluummin kuin edelleenkin\nantaudumme er\u00e4maiden helteisiin tavottelemaan merta, jonka rannikolta\nmeid\u00e4n kenties on yht\u00e4 vaikea p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 kotiin kuin oli Madagaskariltakin?\"\nMutta se esitys ei saavuttanut kannatusta. Suurimmat vastukset\nsuunnitelmalle esitti haavurimme, joka oli lukenut ja tietorikas mies,\nvaikk'ei tuntenutkaan merimiehen ammattia. Ensinn\u00e4kin oli matkan pituus\nmutkinensa arvioittava 4,000 engl. penikulmaksi, toisekseen emme\nmitenk\u00e4\u00e4n s\u00e4\u00e4styisi krokotiileilta, kolmanneksi kohtaisimme ihan karua\nymp\u00e4rist\u00f6\u00e4 pitkin taipalein, ja lopuksi oli sadekausi l\u00e4henem\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nSilloin paisuisivat Niilin vedet niin vuolaiksi ja nousisivat niin\nlaajalti peitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n alavia tasankoja, ettemme osaisi pysytell\u00e4 virran\nuomassa, vaan joutuisimme vesiajolle, keikahtelisimme kumoon tai\ntarttuisimme s\u00e4rkille niin useasti, ett\u00e4 vaarallinen eteneminen k\u00e4visi\nmahdottomaksi kest\u00e4\u00e4.\nMe siis pysyimme p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6ksess\u00e4mme vaeltaa l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohti. Mutta ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin\nvastahakoisina poistumaan t\u00e4m\u00e4n v\u00e4yl\u00e4n varrelta kuljeskelimme me\nvirkistykseksemme viel\u00e4 kaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 virran l\u00e4hettyvill\u00e4. Er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 iltana\nmusta prinssi n\u00e4ytti minulle muutamia l\u00f6yt\u00e4mi\u00e4ns\u00e4 kauniin n\u00e4k\u00f6isi\u00e4\nja raskaita muruja, ja sek\u00e4 tykkimies ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 huomasimme niiden\nvarmasti olevan kultaa. Sovimme siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 l\u00e4htisimme huomenna mustan\nprinssin kanssa tarkastelemaan paikkaa, mist\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli murut l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt,\nja jos t\u00e4t\u00e4 kallista metallia n\u00e4kyisi v\u00e4h\u00e4nkin runsaammin olevan, niin\nilmottaisimme l\u00f6yd\u00f6n koko joukollemme; muussa tapauksessa emme asiasta\nsuotta hiiskuisi mit\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMutta me emme muistaneetkaan ottaa mustaa prinssi\u00e4 samaan\nsuunnitelmaan. H\u00e4n mit\u00e4\u00e4n aavistamatta jutteli muillekin l\u00f6yd\u00f6st\u00e4ns\u00e4,\nja asian laadun arvaten he tulivat luoksemme katselemaan kultajyvi\u00e4.\nHuomatessamme asian joutuneen julkiseksi oli meille t\u00e4rke\u00e4t\u00e4 est\u00e4\u00e4\nheit\u00e4 ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4st\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n salailua ajatelleemme. Lausuimme olevamme\nvakuutetut siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 metalli oli kultaa, ja kutsuimme taiturimmekin\nsit\u00e4 tarkastamaan, saaden h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 vahvistuksen k\u00e4sityksellemme. Esitin\nsiis, ett\u00e4 k\u00e4visimme kaikin l\u00f6yt\u00f6paikalle tutkimaan, kannattaisiko\nmeid\u00e4n j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 joksikin aikaa huuhtomaan kultaa.\nJa kaikki me menimme, sill\u00e4 yksik\u00e4\u00e4n ei ollut halukas j\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n syrj\u00e4\u00e4n\nsellaisesta l\u00f6yd\u00f6st\u00e4. Paikka ei ollutkaan p\u00e4\u00e4virran varrella, vaan\nsiihen l\u00e4nnest\u00e4 laskevan pikku puron uomassa. Huuhtelimme hiekkaa,\nja melkein jokaisesta kourallisesta j\u00e4i muutamia kultajyv\u00e4si\u00e4\nsaaliiksemme. Minun neuvostani p\u00e4\u00e4timme tuhoisien riitaisuuksien\nkarttamiseksi pit\u00e4\u00e4 kaiken kultahiedan yhteisen\u00e4, jotta kenell\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nei olisi huonompaa onnea kuin toisellakaan; neekereit\u00e4 k\u00e4ytett\u00e4isiin\nhuuhteluty\u00f6ss\u00e4 apunamme, ja saalis tasattaisiin meid\u00e4n valkoisten\nkesken sitte kun matkamme perill\u00e4 eroaisimme. Kaikki vannoivat olevansa\nyritt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 k\u00e4tke\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n omaan laskuunsa, ja kaikki rahasta tai\nkullasta pelaaminen tai vedon ly\u00f6minen kiellettiin ankarasti.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n terveellisen sopimuksen tehty\u00e4mme me k\u00e4vimme vire\u00e4sti ty\u00f6h\u00f6n,\nosottaen neekereille, miten heid\u00e4n oli menetelt\u00e4v\u00e4. Virran yl\u00e4varren\nmolempia \u00e4yr\u00e4it\u00e4 ja sen pohjasakkaa huuhdellen velloimme m\u00e4r\u00e4ss\u00e4\nty\u00f6ss\u00e4mme kolmisen viikkoa, edeten sill'aikaa ainoastaan kuusi engl.\npenikulmaa. Mit\u00e4 ylemm\u00e4 jouduimme, sit\u00e4 runsaampi oli sato, kunnes\nvihdoin er\u00e4\u00e4n kunnaan rinteen tuolla puolen kulta kerrassaan ehtyi; ei\nhituakaan l\u00f6ytynyt ylemp\u00e4n\u00e4. Piankin johtui mieleeni, ett\u00e4 kulta siis\narvatenkin oli kaikki tuosta rinteest\u00e4 huuhtoutunutta.\nPalasimme kunnaan luo ja ryhdyimme sit\u00e4 penkomaan. Maaper\u00e4 oli\nmureata, keltaisen savimaista v\u00e4rilt\u00e4\u00e4n, ja toisin paikoin tapasimme\nkovaa valkeata kivilajia, arvatenkin samaa s\u00e4lp\u00e4\u00e4, jonka mainitaan\nkultakaivoksissa ymp\u00e4r\u00f6iv\u00e4n metallimalmia. Mutta vaikka se olisi\nollut puhdasta kultaa, niin emme olisi voineet sille mit\u00e4\u00e4n, meill\u00e4\nkun ei ollut murtamisv\u00e4lineit\u00e4. Kuohkeata kamaraa raapiessamme\nsit\u00e4vastoin tapasimme er\u00e4\u00e4n kohdan, miss\u00e4 multa mureni melkein pelk\u00e4st\u00e4\nkosketuksesta, ilmeisesti osottaen runsasta kultapitoisuutta. Ker\u00e4simme\nsen kaiken huolellisesti ja huuhtelimme kultahiedan erilleen; kovaan\nkallioon p\u00e4\u00e4stess\u00e4mme ei taaskaan ollut rahtuakaan kultaa l\u00f6ydett\u00e4viss\u00e4.\nIllan suussa saatuamme puuhamme valmiiksi huomasimme tuon kunnaan\nantaneen meille kaikkiaan noin viisikymment\u00e4 naulaa kultahietaa;\nkaikki edellinen ty\u00f6 virran varrella oli tuottanut nelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 naulaa.\nMeille oli onnellisenlainen pettymys se, ett\u00e4 huomasimme kultasatomme\nlopullisesti sulkeutuneen, sill\u00e4 vaikka kultapitoisuus olisi kuinkakin\nmit\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4ksi v\u00e4hentynyt, niin enp\u00e4 tied\u00e4 milloin olisimme malttaneet\nherjet\u00e4 ty\u00f6st\u00e4mme. Sill\u00e4 tyyten nuuskittuamme koko ymp\u00e4rist\u00f6n ja\nkunnaan itsens\u00e4, en\u00e4\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00f6yt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4, me palasimme takaisin\nalas virtaa, muokaten yh\u00e4 uudestaan ja uudestaan niin kauvan kuin\nhitunenkaan j\u00e4i vaivojemme palkkioksi; ja t\u00e4ll\u00e4 toisella kerralla\nsaimme kuusi tai seitsem\u00e4n naulaa lis\u00e4\u00e4. Sitte palasimme ensim\u00e4iselle\nvirralle ja seuloimme tarkoin molemmat \u00e4yr\u00e4\u00e4t, yl\u00f6s virtaa ja alas\nvirtaa. Yl\u00e4juoksun varrelta emme l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet mit\u00e4\u00e4n, ei, emme ainoatakaan\nhituista; alavarrelta l\u00f6ysimme hyvin niukasti, emme enemp\u00e4\u00e4 kuin puoli\nunssia kahden engl. penikulman taipaleelta. Viel\u00e4 kerran py\u00f6rsimme\ntakaisin Kultavirralle, joksi sit\u00e4 t\u00e4ydell\u00e4 syyll\u00e4 nimitimme,\nja tarkastimme sen kahteen kertaan yl\u00f6s virtaa ja alas virtaa,\nkumpaisellakin kerralla saaden jonkun verran kultaa kokoon. Kenties\nolisi tulos ollut sama, jos olisimme viipyneet siell\u00e4 t\u00e4h\u00e4n asti, mutta\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 oli lopulta niin mit\u00e4t\u00f6n ja ty\u00f6 niin paljon raskaampaa, ett\u00e4\nyksimielisesti p\u00e4\u00e4timme herjet\u00e4 puuhasta, jott'emme rasittaisi itse\u00e4mme\nja neekereit\u00e4mme kykenem\u00e4tt\u00f6miksi matkaa jatkamaan.\nLopullinen saaliimme oli kolme ja puoli naulaa kultaa miest\u00e4 kohti,\nnerokkaan sepp\u00e4taiturimme valmistaman summittaisen vaa'an mukaan. Musta\nprinssi sai lahjaksi naulan verran, ja siit\u00e4 h\u00e4n sepp\u00e4mme ty\u00f6kaluilla\nkuukausien kuluessa takoi itselleen kerrassaan muhkean kaulaketjun.\nYhteiseksi varastoksi j\u00e4tettiin sit\u00e4paitsi noin seitsem\u00e4n naulan\nvaiheille, jotta voisimme tarpeen tullen lahjottaa kullasta muovailtuja\nkoruja henkil\u00f6ille, joilta saisimme palveluksia osaksemme, tahi ostaa\nruokavaroja ja muuta sellaista.\nMutta sadekausi teki jo tuloansa; olimme nyt olleetkin runsaasti viisi\nkuukautta taipaleella. Useampina p\u00e4ivin\u00e4 olimme jo kokeneet rajuja\nsateita. Haimme senvuoksi t\u00e4m\u00e4n onnea tuottaneen Kultavirran varrelta\nsoveliaan paikan talvileiri\u00e4mme varten, ja neekerimme rakensivat\nn\u00e4pp\u00e4r\u00e4sti majoja asunnoiksemme. Yhdyskuntamme oli kuin pikku kaupunki,\nja el\u00e4m\u00e4mme kului muutoin kaikin puolin hauskasti, paitsi ett\u00e4 petoja\noli t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 paljo runsaammin kuin itse er\u00e4maassa. Niinkuin hirvet ja\nmuut ruohonsy\u00f6j\u00e4t t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 etsiv\u00e4t parhaita laidunmaita, samaten leijonat\nja leopardit riistan ajossa laumoina liikkuivat.\nPuusepp\u00e4mme ymp\u00e4r\u00f6iv\u00e4t koko leirimme korkealla paaluaitauksella, sill\u00e4\npuuta oli kylliksi saatavissa. N\u00e4it\u00e4 salkoja ei isketty rinnakkain\nriviin, vaan s\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6tt\u00f6m\u00e4sti parin metrin paksuiseksi valliksi, toiset\nsyvemm\u00e4lle, toiset matalammalle, kaikki p\u00e4ist\u00e4\u00e4n terotettuina ja noin\njalan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 toisistaan. Mink\u00e4\u00e4n pedon oli vaikea ajatella loikkaavan\ntuollaisen muurin yli, joten sellaisen ponnistuksen yritt\u00e4minen\ntoimittaisi hy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4j\u00e4n seiv\u00e4stetyksi. Aitauksen sis\u00e4\u00e4nk\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4 oli\npaalutettu hyvin kapeaksi ja kolme, nelj\u00e4 mutkaa tekev\u00e4ksi, jotapaitsi\nsen ulkopuolella pidettiin joka y\u00f6 suurta nuotiota vireill\u00e4,\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4ll\u00e4 kahta vartijaa k\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4n rakennetussa vedenpit\u00e4v\u00e4ss\u00e4\nkojussa. Nuotiota varten hakkasimme aitaukseemme kuivamaan valtaiset\npinot puita, valmistaen pikku oksista paksut varakatot m\u00f6kkeihimme.\nHyv\u00e4 olikin kaikessa varansa pit\u00e4\u00e4, sill\u00e4 sateet olivat sitte\nerinomaisen runsaita ja tihe\u00e4sti uudistuvia.\nNoissa kuumissa maissa on kastuminen europalaisille hyvinkin\nvaarallista, joten emme paljoakaan p\u00e4\u00e4sseet liikkeelle riistaa\nhankkimaan. Neekerit, joilla ei mit\u00e4\u00e4n vaatteita ollut, eiv\u00e4t\nn\u00e4ytt\u00e4neet sateista mit\u00e4\u00e4n haittaa tuntevan. Nelj\u00e4 kuukautta\nolimme siten asemillamme, nimitt\u00e4in kes\u00e4kuun puoliv\u00e4list\u00e4 lokakuun\npuoliv\u00e4liin; sateet tosin parhaasta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 taukosivat p\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasauksen\naikaan, mutta kun aurinko oli silloin juuri kohtisuoraan\nyl\u00e4puolellamme, niin p\u00e4\u00e4timme viivyskell\u00e4 kunnes se olisi siirtynyt\nhiukan etel\u00e4mm\u00e4ksi.\nLeiri-el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4mme liittyi monia seikkailuja petojen kanssa; \u00f6iseen aikaan\nne meit\u00e4 metelill\u00e4ns\u00e4 h\u00e4iritsiv\u00e4t ja ker\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t toisinaan sellaisiksi\njoukoiksi, ett\u00e4 tuntui kuin olisivat kaikki Afrikan raatelijat\nhy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4llemme. Er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 sateista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 seuranneena myrskyisen\u00e4\ny\u00f6n\u00e4 meid\u00e4t todella kaikki h\u00e4lyytettiin jalkeille, sill\u00e4 verenjanoiset\nlaumat kierteliv\u00e4t leiri\u00e4mme niin sankkoina joukkoina, ett\u00e4 vartijamme\njoutuivat ihan ymm\u00e4lle. Nuotiopuolta ne paremmin karttelivat, ja\nvaikka olimme j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in lujentaneetkin paalutustamme, niin katsoimme\nkuitenkin viisaaksi k\u00e4yd\u00e4 aseisiin ja pit\u00e4\u00e4 pime\u00e4mp\u00e4\u00e4 taustaa silm\u00e4ll\u00e4.\nOli melkein t\u00e4ysikuun aika, mutta ilmassa ajelehti repaleisia pilvi\u00e4\nankaran vihurin puskemina, ja y\u00f6 tuntui hyvin kaamealta.\nOlinpa aitauksen takaosassa n\u00e4kevin\u00e4ni jonkun otuksen linnoituksemme\nsis\u00e4puolella, ja niin olikin asian laita, paitsi ett\u00e4 peto oli huiman\nhypyn tehdess\u00e4\u00e4n lantiostaan l\u00e4vistynyt sisimp\u00e4\u00e4n ja muita pitemp\u00e4\u00e4n\nsalkoon, joten se nyt roikkui p\u00e4\u00e4 alasp\u00e4in ja karjuen pureskeli paalua.\nSieppasin vieress\u00e4ni seisovalta neekerilt\u00e4 keih\u00e4\u00e4n ja lopetin pedon\n-- ison leijonan -- vaivat; samalla n\u00e4in ulkopuolella seisoskelevan\nsen kumppaneita tihe\u00e4ss\u00e4 kuin h\u00e4rk\u00e4lauma. Me ammuimme siekailematta\nyhteislaukauksen niiden keskeen ja se sai ne hajalle; aamulla l\u00f6ysimme\ntappotantereelta useita raatoja. Olimme p\u00e4iv\u00e4ll\u00e4 tappaneet hirven ja\nmuutamia vuohimaisia otuksia, sek\u00e4 heitt\u00e4neet sis\u00e4lmykset leirimme\ntakalistolle. T\u00e4m\u00e4 se n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti oli johtanut niit\u00e4 niin suuret joukot\npaikalle, emmek\u00e4 sit\u00e4 huolimattomuutta en\u00e4\u00e4 toistamiseen tehneet.\nPetojen keskittyminen leirimme ymp\u00e4rille pelotteli et\u00e4\u00e4mm\u00e4lle hirvi\u00e4\nja muita sellaisia naapureita, joiden l\u00e4heisyydess\u00e4 todella halusimme\nolla. Neekerimme k\u00e4viv\u00e4t kuitenkin joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 mets\u00e4stelem\u00e4ss\u00e4\njousillaan, ja varsinkin sek\u00e4 vesi- ett\u00e4 mets\u00e4lintuja ilmestyi\nsadekauden alettua yh\u00e4 runsaammin. Virrasta saimme helpolla\nvaivalla kaloja, ja yleens\u00e4 tulimme varsin hyvin toimeen, vaikka\nsuolavarastomme oli melkein liian s\u00e4\u00e4stellen k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4 siit\u00e4\nhuolimatta, ett\u00e4 neekerit eiv\u00e4t siit\u00e4 h\u00f6ysteest\u00e4 v\u00e4litt\u00e4neet.\nIlma alkoi seesty\u00e4, sateet herkesiv\u00e4t, tulvat alenivat, aurinko oli jo\nmelkoisen matkan etel\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja niinp\u00e4 valmistausimme j\u00e4lleen l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n\nvaelluksellemme. Lokak. 14. p:n\u00e4 l\u00e4ksimme liikkeelle; seutu oli\nhelppoa kulkea ja riistarikasta, vaikka viel\u00e4 asumatonta. Etenimme\nyhten\u00e4toista p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 suunnilleen kahdestakymmenest\u00e4 viiteenkolmatta\nengl. penikulmaan p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4, emmek\u00e4 kohdanneet muuta pys\u00e4hdyst\u00e4 kuin\npikku joen, joka oli viel\u00e4 sen verran tulvillaan, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n oli\nrakennettava lautta p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksemme ylitse. Se takana oli edess\u00e4mme\niso kukkulaharjanne, ja kun emme tahtoneet tolaltamme poiketa sit\u00e4\nkaartuaksemme, niin kapusimme vain suoraan eteenp\u00e4in.\nMutta suuresti h\u00e4mm\u00e4styimme, kun ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 sel\u00e4nteen laelle p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt\nmies huudahti: \"Meri! meri!\" ja alkoi ilosta tanssia. Tykkimies ja\nmin\u00e4 \u00e4llistyimme enimmin, sill\u00e4 olimme juuri samana aamuna laskeneet,\nett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 oli viel\u00e4 yli 1000 engl. penikulman matka merenrannikolle\nja ettemme voineet odottaa sit\u00e4 saavuttavamme ennen uutta sadekautta.\nTykkimies suuttui noin hullulle huudolle, mutta olimmepa molemmat kuin\npuusta pudonneita, kun korkealla laelle ehditty\u00e4mme n\u00e4imme rajattoman\nulapan, joka sek\u00e4 edess\u00e4mme ett\u00e4 oikealla ja vasemmalla p\u00e4\u00e4ttyi vasta\ntaivaanrantaan.\nH\u00e4mmentynein mielin laskeusimme alas, k\u00e4sitt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 minne olimme\njoutuneet. Mutta rantaan tultuamme huomasimme veden suolattomaksi;\nolimme kohdanneet suunnattoman suuren sis\u00e4j\u00e4rven. P\u00e4\u00e4timme kiert\u00e4\u00e4\nsen pohjoispuolitse, mutta vasta kolmekolmatta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 pitkin rantaa\nsamottuamme huusi muuan miehist\u00e4mme er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 aamuna aikaisin: \"Maa!\"\nJ\u00e4rven l\u00e4nsipuolella h\u00e4\u00e4m\u00f6tti silloin hyvin kaukana joitakuita\nvuorenhuippuja, mutta meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi kulkea kahdeksan p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 viel\u00e4kin\npohjoista kohti, ennen kuin j\u00e4rvi p\u00e4\u00e4ttyi hyvin isoon virtaan, joka\njuoksi pohjoiseen tai koilliseen suuntaan.\nYst\u00e4v\u00e4ni tykkimies arveli nyt, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli edellisell\u00e4 kerralla\nerehtynyt ja ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 vasta oli Niili. Virran yli ei ollut helppo\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4, sill\u00e4 sen juoksu oli hyvin vuolas ja uoma leve\u00e4. Viikon\najan kesti koota ainekset itsemme ja karjan viemiseksi toiselle\nrannalle, sill\u00e4 mets\u00e4 oli l\u00e4hist\u00f6ll\u00e4 pienikasvuista vesaikkoa. Koko\nvaellus pitkin j\u00e4rven rantaa oli ollut kovin v\u00e4sytt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4, lyhent\u00e4en\np\u00e4iv\u00e4matkojamme; it\u00e4isest\u00e4 vuoristosta nimitt\u00e4in laski tavaton m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\npikku puroja ja jokia j\u00e4rveen, kaikki \u00e4skeisen sadekauden johdosta\nviel\u00e4 tulvillansa. Asukkaita olimme vilahdukselta n\u00e4hneet viimeisin\u00e4\nkolmena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, mutta huomasimme heid\u00e4n majailevan vuoriston rinteill\u00e4\neik\u00e4 j\u00e4rven rannalla. Poikkeamisemme pohjoista kohti oli tykkimiehen\nhavaintojen mukaan saattanut meid\u00e4t 6. ja 7. etel\u00e4isen leveysasteen\nv\u00e4lille.\nVaivalla p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4mme tuon virran yli jouduimme outoon aarnioseutuun,\njoka alkoi meit\u00e4 hieman pelottaa. Sill\u00e4 vaikka nyt emme olleetkaan\npolttelevalla hieta-aavikolla, niin kuljeksimme kuitenkin karussa\nvuoriseudussa, jossa petoja oli viel\u00e4 runsaammin kuin olimme t\u00e4h\u00e4n\nasti tavanneet. Maaper\u00e4 kasvoi karkeata hein\u00e4\u00e4 ja siell\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nn\u00e4kyi pensastelevia puita. Ihmisolennoista ei ollut merkki\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ht\u00e4viss\u00e4, ja sy\u00f6t\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4 riistasta oli t\u00e4ydellinen puute. Raskain\nmielin oli meid\u00e4n pakko kelpo paaston j\u00e4lkeen tappaa yksi uskollinen\nkuormapuhvelimme, jonka lihoja k\u00e4ytimme niin s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4v\u00e4isesti, ett\u00e4 vasta\nkahdeksan vuorokautta t\u00e4ten taivallettuamme valmistausimme tappamaan\ntoista. Mutta samassa avautuikin eteemme lupaavampi seutu, joka kasvoi\nrehev\u00e4\u00e4 mets\u00e4\u00e4 ja jonka halki juoksi luoteiseen suuntaan iso virta.\nN\u00e4ky elvytti mieli\u00e4mme ja me joudutimme askeleitamme, vaikka tyhjin\nvatsoin ja hyvin heikkoina. Emme kuitenkaan olleet viel\u00e4 virrallekaan\np\u00e4\u00e4sseet, kun jo saimme tiellemme osuneesta hirvilaumasta pyydetyksi\nkolme. Virran tuolla puolla jouduimme asutulle seudulle; sik\u00e4l\u00e4inen\nalaston neekerikansa oli erinomaisen yst\u00e4v\u00e4llist\u00e4 ja luottavaista, ja\nmeid\u00e4n v\u00e4lillemme syntyi heti t\u00e4ysi rauha. Korukapineillamme vaihdoimme\nitsellemme runsaat m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t ruokavaroja. Matkasuuntaamme tiedustaessamme\nsaivat he merkeill\u00e4 meille selitetyksi, ett\u00e4 suoraan l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohden\nei meid\u00e4n kannattanut pyrki\u00e4; he viittailivat luoteeseen. Arvasimme,\nett\u00e4 tiellemme sattuisi toinen j\u00e4rvi, ja sen n\u00e4immekin kahden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\nkuluttua. Tiemme vei siten yh\u00e4 edemm\u00e4ksi pohjoiseen.\nTykkimies alkoi huolestua. H\u00e4n osotti kartalta, ett\u00e4 Afrika laajeni\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan pohjoispuolella kauvas l\u00e4nteen p\u00e4in, pitent\u00e4en\nmatkaamme runsaasti 1,500 engl. penikulmalla, jos pohjoisempana vasta\nk\u00e4\u00e4ntyisimme j\u00e4lleen l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohti. Vasta 200-300 engl. penikulman\np\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 rannikosta voisimme tavata sellaisia jokia, jotka olisivat\nmeille avuksi, kun taasen Rio Grande oli v\u00e4hint\u00e4\u00e4n 700 engl. penikulman\np\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 viel\u00e4 kauvempana pohjoisessa. Ja Rio Grande kulki seutujen\nhalki, jotka olivat karumpia ja vaikeampip\u00e4\u00e4syisi\u00e4 kuin p\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan\netel\u00e4puolella olevat maat, jotapaitsi Pohjois-Afrikan neekerit\nl\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4 rannikkoa olivat sodanhaluisia ja julmia. Eritt\u00e4inkin\noli syyt\u00e4 pelj\u00e4t\u00e4 niit\u00e4 heimoja, jotka olivat olleet tekemisiss\u00e4\neuropalaisten kanssa, kuten hollantilaisten, englantilaisten,\nespanjalaisten ja portugalilaisten, sill\u00e4 n\u00e4iden tuon tuostakin\nuudistunut paha kohtelu oli varmasti her\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt kostonhimoa.\nN\u00e4in ollen h\u00e4n esitti, ett\u00e4 heti j\u00e4rven kierretty\u00e4mme k\u00e4\u00e4ntyisimme\nl\u00e4nsilounaaseen, aikanaan tavottaaksemme isoa Kongo-virtaa ja sit\u00e4\nmy\u00f6ten soluaksemme rannikolle hieman pohjoispuolella Angolasta. Min\u00e4\npuolestani olisin sittekin mieluummin yritt\u00e4nyt Rio Grandea, joka olisi\nvienyt meid\u00e4t Kap Verdin niemelle, asutulle rannikolle. Etel\u00e4isemm\u00e4ll\u00e4\nrannikolla sit\u00e4vastoin riippuisi vain sattumasta, emmek\u00f6 olisi\npakotettuja viel\u00e4 samoamaan melkoista matkaa l\u00e4himp\u00e4\u00e4n vakinaiseen\neuropalaiseen siirtokuntaan, jos ei juuri tullessamme olisi laivoja\nsiell\u00e4 kauppa-asioillansa k\u00e4ym\u00e4ss\u00e4. En kuitenkaan katsonut itse\u00e4ni\np\u00e4tev\u00e4ksi ryhtym\u00e4\u00e4n vastusteluun. Miehet heti alussa nurkuivat suunnan\nmuutosta, kun j\u00e4rven kierretty\u00e4mme k\u00e4\u00e4nnyimme etel\u00e4mp\u00e4\u00e4n. Nyt olimme\nvarmasti poissa tolaltamme, arvelivat he huolestuneina, ja kaartelimme\nvain edes takaisin. Heid\u00e4n oli vaikea varmistua suunnitelman\nj\u00e4rkevyydest\u00e4.\nKUUDES LUKU.\nRynnistys rannikolle.\nMutta me emme olleet samonneet kahtatoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 enemp\u00e4\u00e4,\njoista kahdeksan meni j\u00e4rven pohjoisp\u00e4\u00e4n sivuuttamiseen ja nelj\u00e4\ntunkeutumiseemme lounasta kohti, kun kohtasimme taaskin t\u00e4ydellisen\npys\u00e4hdyksen. Jouduimme nimitt\u00e4in aivan kauhistuttavan hedelm\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n\nseutuun, jolla ei n\u00e4kynyt kasvullisuutta eik\u00e4 asukkaita. Rajattomana\navautui se eteemme, eik\u00e4 ollut mist\u00e4\u00e4n saatavissa ruokavarastoa,\nyritt\u00e4\u00e4ksemme vaeltaa senkin yli kuten olimme jo kerran p\u00e4\u00e4sseet\nmoisesta aavikosta suoriutumaan. Ajattelimme sit\u00e4 varten py\u00f6rt\u00e4\u00e4\ntakaisin j\u00e4rven luo, mutta kun olimme jo monta uhkarohkeaa yrityst\u00e4\ntehneet, niin p\u00e4\u00e4timme lopultakin jatkaa matkaamme syrj\u00e4\u00e4n poikkeamatta.\nP\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6kseemme vaikutti pian rohkaisevasti se, ett\u00e4 et\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 h\u00e4\u00e4m\u00f6tti\nkorkeita vuoria. Oletimme, ett\u00e4 vuoristossa t\u00e4ytyi olla l\u00e4hteit\u00e4 ja\njokia, siis my\u00f6skin puita ja ruohoa, jolloin siell\u00e4 saattoi odottaa\ntapaavansa karjaakin ja ihmisi\u00e4. Viisi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 laahustimme niukalla\nruoka- ja vesivarastolla varattuina, ennen kuin p\u00e4\u00e4simme vuorten\njuurelle.\nOlimme oikeassa siin\u00e4, ett\u00e4 vuoristosta l\u00f6yt\u00e4isimme l\u00e4hteit\u00e4, mutta\nkauhistuen h\u00e4mm\u00e4styimme, kun ensim\u00e4inen n\u00e4kem\u00e4mme l\u00e4hde, ihmeellisen\nkirkas ja kaunis, olikin kirvelev\u00e4n suolainen. Pettymys oli meille\nmasentava, mutta tykkimiehen keinokas mieli ei hevill\u00e4 j\u00e4rkkynyt. H\u00e4n\nvakuutteli, ett\u00e4 suolaa me kipe\u00e4sti tarvitsimmekin ja ett\u00e4 ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4\nl\u00f6yt\u00e4isimme kohdakkoin suolatontakin vett\u00e4. Ja samassa astui keskeemme\nhaavuri, sanoen tiet\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4 mill\u00e4 tavoin suolaisesta vedest\u00e4 saadaan\njuotavaksi kelpaavaa.\nMiehet olivat sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet useitakin l\u00e4hteit\u00e4, mutta kaikki\nolivat suolaisia. P\u00e4\u00e4ttelimme siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 vuoret sis\u00e4lsiv\u00e4t suolaa,\nja saattoivat kaikkikin olla samanlaisia. Haavuri vain k\u00e4vi varman\nn\u00e4k\u00f6isen\u00e4 hommaansa k\u00e4siksi. H\u00e4n ompeli yhteen kaksi isoa mattoa ja\nteki siit\u00e4 tilavan s\u00e4kin. T\u00e4m\u00e4 t\u00e4ytettiin kuivalla hiedalla niin\nkiinte\u00e4sti kuin k\u00e4vi p\u00e4ins\u00e4. Yl\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n h\u00e4n kaivoi ison hatun kokoisen\nkuopan, johon kaadettiin vett\u00e4 aina sik\u00e4li kuin se valui hiekkaan.\nS\u00e4kki oli asetettuna kahden poikkipienan p\u00e4\u00e4lle noin jalkaa korkealle\nmaasta; alle oli levitetty vedenpit\u00e4vi\u00e4 nahkoja. Noin tunnin kuluttua\nalkoi vesi tiukkua s\u00e4kin pohjan l\u00e4pi, ja suureksi kummaksemme se oli\naivan hyv\u00e4nmakuista. Muutamien tuntien kuluttua se alkoi j\u00e4lleen\nmaistua suolalta, jolloin h\u00e4n neuvoi t\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n s\u00e4kin uudella hiedalla.\nEn muista oliko t\u00e4m\u00e4 keino h\u00e4nen keksim\u00e4ns\u00e4 koe vai oliko h\u00e4n jo ennen\nn\u00e4hnyt sit\u00e4 k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4n.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 nousimme vuoriston laelle, mist\u00e4 oli tosiaan\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4stytt\u00e4v\u00e4 n\u00e4k\u00f6ala. Niin kauvas kuin silm\u00e4 kantoi ulottui joka\nsuunnalle edess\u00e4mme rajaton kolkko er\u00e4maa, jolla ei n\u00e4kynyt puita, ei\njokia, ei mit\u00e4\u00e4n vehreytt\u00e4. Kamara kasvoi tummaa sammalta, mist\u00e4\u00e4n\nelollisesta ei n\u00e4kynyt merkki\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMeill\u00e4 ei ollut muona- eik\u00e4 vesivaroja, yritt\u00e4\u00e4ksemme umpim\u00e4hk\u00e4\u00e4n\neteenp\u00e4in tai palataksemme takaisinkaan. Meid\u00e4n ei auttanut muu kuin\npysytell\u00e4 vuoristoharjanteella, jolla n\u00e4kyi joitakuita hedelm\u00e4llisyyden\nmerkkej\u00e4. Tykkimies esitti nyt, ett\u00e4 pyrkisimmekin koillista kohti,\njolloin olisi isompi mahdollisuus tavata joku joko Rio Grandeen\npohjoiseen p\u00e4in tai alas Kultarannikolle etel\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in laskeva joki,\njoka saisi lopullisen p\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4mme m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4t\u00e4. Sen vuoksi p\u00e4\u00e4timme aluksi\nseurata vuoristoharjannetta pohjoiseen p\u00e4in, sen it\u00e4isell\u00e4 rinteell\u00e4,\npit\u00e4en tarkoin silm\u00e4ll\u00e4 riistaa.\nSuureksi huojennukseksemme tapasimmekin jo ensim\u00e4isen aamun\nmatkalla varsin hyvi\u00e4 juomavesil\u00e4hteit\u00e4, joista kaiken varalle\nt\u00e4ytimme vesileilimme. Mainitsematta on j\u00e4\u00e4nyt, ett\u00e4 haavurimme oli\nsuolal\u00e4hteist\u00e4 eritt\u00e4nyt meille kolme tai nelj\u00e4 kapallista hienoa\nsuolaa. Odottamattoman ruokavarastonkin saimme pian; vuoristossa\nnimitt\u00e4in vilisi er\u00e4\u00e4nlaisia j\u00e4niksi\u00e4. Ne olivat kookkaampia ja\nv\u00e4hemm\u00e4n nopsajalkaisia kuin europalaiset j\u00e4nikset; me ammuskelimme\nniit\u00e4, ja kesy leopardimme, jonka olen kertonut saaduksi ry\u00f6st\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4mme\nneekerikyl\u00e4st\u00e4, mets\u00e4sti niit\u00e4 kuin koira ja tappoi meille useita joka\np\u00e4iv\u00e4. Ilman lupaamme ei se itse sy\u00f6nyt niit\u00e4 ainoatakaan, mik\u00e4 meid\u00e4n\nolosuhteissamme oli varsin mukavaa.\nN\u00e4it\u00e4 otuksia me hiukan suolattuamme kuivasimme kokonaisina auringossa,\nkuljettaen siten kummallisia kuormia mukanamme. Ker\u00e4simme niit\u00e4\nkolmeensataan, sill\u00e4 me emme tienneet milloin taas joutuisimme\nkaruihin seutuihin. Kymmenen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 kuljimme n\u00e4iden vuorten suojassa;\nit\u00e4puolella alkoi seutu n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 paremmalta, l\u00e4nsipuolella levisi\nentinen er\u00e4maa, ja kun vuortemme sel\u00e4nne sitte teki mutkan l\u00e4nteen\np\u00e4in, niin katsoimme paremmaksi l\u00e4hte\u00e4 vuoristosta ja jatkaa matkaamme\nsuoraan pohjoista kohti. Seutu oli jokseenkin mets\u00e4ist\u00e4, jonkun verran\noli er\u00e4maataipaleita, mutta ei v\u00e4sytt\u00e4v\u00e4n pitki\u00e4, ja siten jouduimme\ntykkimiehen havaintojen mukaan kahdeksan asteen viiden minuutin p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajasta pohjoiseen, k\u00e4ytt\u00e4en siihen j\u00e4lleen yhdeks\u00e4ntoista\np\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\nAsukkaita emme koko aikana n\u00e4hneet, petoja kyll\u00e4, mutta niist\u00e4\nsuoriuduimme helposti. Riistasta ei ollut suoranaista puutetta, ja\npitk\u00e4st\u00e4 aikaa n\u00e4imme taas mets\u00e4paikoilla elefanttejakin. Kauvan\nkest\u00e4nyt marssiminen uuvutti meit\u00e4 kovin, kaksi miest\u00e4mme sairastui\nhyvin pahasti, yksi neekeri kuoli ja toinenkin sairasteli, mutta\nparani suonen iskemisell\u00e4. Potilaiden takia teimme kahdentoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\npys\u00e4hdyksen, joll'aikaa he p\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t virkistym\u00e4\u00e4n ja saimme ker\u00e4tyksi\nruokavaroja.\nK\u00e4\u00e4nsimme nyt suuntamme hiukan l\u00e4nnemm\u00e4ksi, odotellen tapaavamme\njonkun joen, jota my\u00f6ten voisi laskea kanooteilla. Niin kului\nkolme viikkoa, joista yksi k\u00e4ytettiin lepoon, sill\u00e4 me olimme niin\nheikontuneet, ett\u00e4 pys\u00e4htelimme varsin usein, etenkin milloin osuimme\nriistarikkaammille paikoille. T\u00e4ll\u00e4v\u00e4lin etenimme nelisen astetta\npohjoiseen p\u00e4in ja jonkun verran l\u00e4nteen p\u00e4in. Lopulta keksimme et\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4\ner\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 laaksosta melkoisen joen, joka juoksi luoteeseen, meille varsin\notolliseen suuntaan. Iloisin mielin riensimme suoraan laaksoa kohti.\nMatkan varrella oli tihe\u00e4 metsikk\u00f6, jonka sivuutimme mit\u00e4\u00e4n pahaa\naavistamatta, kunnes \u00e4kki\u00e4 er\u00e4st\u00e4 neekeri\u00e4mme vaarallisesti haavotti\nhartiain v\u00e4liin vinosti sattunut nuoli. Kiireisesti tutkimme metsik\u00f6n,\nja kolme miest\u00e4mme l\u00f6ysi jousi k\u00e4dess\u00e4 pakoon rynt\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4n neekerin,\nampuen h\u00e4net paikalla kuoliaaksi.\nHiukan etemp\u00e4n\u00e4 tapasimme viisi neekerimajaa, jotka olivat eri tavalla\nrakennetut kuin ne, joita olimme ennen n\u00e4hneet; er\u00e4\u00e4n seinustalle oli\nladottu pystyyn seitsem\u00e4n elefantinhammasta, ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin kaupattavaksi.\nAsukkaiden kanssa tulimme toimeen aivan erinomaisen hyvin, enk\u00e4\nvoi k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4, mik\u00e4 oli ensim\u00e4isen neekerin villinnyt salakavalaan\nmurhayritykseens\u00e4. Vaihtokaupalla saimme heilt\u00e4 paljon tavaraa\nvaratuksi, varsinkin er\u00e4\u00e4nlaisista juurista valmistetuista jauhoista\npaistettuja kyrsi\u00e4, jotka olivat varsin maukkaita. T\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 jatkoimme\nkulkuamme joelle, jonka varrella kuulimme lukuisan neekerikansan\nasuvan, mutta emme voineet viel\u00e4 olla varmat siit\u00e4, saisimmeko\nheid\u00e4nkin kanssaan yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisi\u00e4 v\u00e4lej\u00e4 syntym\u00e4\u00e4n.\nJoki ei toistaiseksi viel\u00e4 riitt\u00e4nyt kanooteilla kulkemiseen, ja me\nkuljimme sen \u00e4yr\u00e4st\u00e4 pitkin viel\u00e4 viisi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, jolloin puusepp\u00e4mme,\nhuomaten uoman laajenneeksi, ehdottivat leirin pystytett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi ja\nkanoottien rakentamiseen ryhdytt\u00e4v\u00e4ksi. Mutta ty\u00f6h\u00f6n k\u00e4yty\u00e4mme,\npari kolme puunrunkoa hakattuamme poikki ja viisi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 puuhaan\nkulutettuamme toivat muutamat alas virtaa edenneet miehemme sen\nviestin, ett\u00e4 virta pikemmin pieneni kuin kasvoi, valuen juoksuhiekkaan\ntahi kuivuen auringonpaisteeseen, niin ett\u00e4 kanooteista ei voisi olla\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n hy\u00f6ty\u00e4. Meid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi luopua hommastamme ja matkata eteenp\u00e4in.\nSamosimme sitte kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohti, sill\u00e4 pohjoispuolella\nkohosi ihan kalju kalliovuoristo, kun taasen l\u00e4nteen johti\njonkun verran asuttu ja hedelm\u00e4llinen laakso, jota etel\u00e4ss\u00e4kin\nihan kasvuttomat vuoririutat rajottivat. Asukkaat juoksivat aina\npakoon meid\u00e4t n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n. Laakson p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 tapasimme aivan tihe\u00e4\u00e4n\nasutun maan, ja olimme ensin kahden vaiheella, menisimmek\u00f6 sen\nkeskitse vai suuntaisimmeko kulkumme pohjoista vuoristoa kohti. Kun\nnykyisin etup\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 ajattelimme Rio Granden eli Nigerin k\u00e4ytt\u00e4mist\u00e4\nkulkuneuvonamme, niin valitsimme j\u00e4lkim\u00e4isen tolan, edeten kompassin\nmukaan luoteeseen p\u00e4in.\nEmme suurestikaan tavotelleet alkuasukasten seuraa, paitsi milloin\ntarvitsimme ruokavaroja tahi opastusta matkamme suunnasta. Kun siis\nmaa alkoi vasemmalla k\u00e4dell\u00e4 olla pelkkin\u00e4 kylin\u00e4, niin pysyttelimme\nyh\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n pohjoislaidalla, yh\u00e4 pit\u00e4en l\u00e4ntisen suuntamme. Vihdoin\njouduimme hyvin miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4lle purolle, joka ei ollut kyllin iso\nansaitsemaan joen nime\u00e4, mutta juoksi pohjoisluoteeseen, jolle\nsuunnalle juuri halusimmekin menn\u00e4. Puron tuonpuoleisella rannalla\nhuomasimme joitakuita neekerimajoja ja pienen maissivainion, mist\u00e4\nsaatoimme p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 sik\u00e4l\u00e4iset asukkaat olivat v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n raakalaisia\nkuin ne, joita olimme t\u00e4h\u00e4n asti tavanneet.\nKaravaanimme edetess\u00e4 yhten\u00e4 joukkona huusivat eturinnassa astelevat\nneekerit n\u00e4kev\u00e4ns\u00e4 valkoihoisen miehen! Emme ensim\u00e4lt\u00e4 kovinkaan\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4styneet, arvellen miesten jollakin tavoin erehtyneen, mutta\nyksi heist\u00e4 astui minun luokseni ja viittasi m\u00e4en toisella rinteell\u00e4\nolevalle m\u00f6kille p\u00e4in. Sanomattomaksi \u00e4llistyksekseni n\u00e4in tosiaankin\nvalkoisen miehen ilkosen alastomana hy\u00f6riv\u00e4n m\u00f6kkins\u00e4 edustalla, selk\u00e4\nmeihin p\u00e4in, kumarruksissaan muokkaamassa maata. Melumme sai h\u00e4net pian\nk\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00e4ht\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n meihin, ja tietysti h\u00e4tk\u00e4hti h\u00e4n yht\u00e4 suuresti kuin mekin.\nH\u00e4nen naapuriensa m\u00f6kkien asukkaat huomasivat meid\u00e4t samaan aikaan\nja ker\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t t\u00e4hystelem\u00e4\u00e4n meit\u00e4 v\u00e4lill\u00e4mme olevan pikku puronuoman\ntakaa. Min\u00e4 sidoin seip\u00e4\u00e4n nen\u00e4\u00e4n valkean vaatteen, jonka tiesin\ntulevan ymm\u00e4rretyksi miss\u00e4 kerran valkoihoinen mies oli mukana, ja\nl\u00e4hetin kaksi neekeri\u00e4 pystytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n sen puron \u00e4yr\u00e4\u00e4lle. Eip\u00e4 aikaakaan,\nkun jo valkoihoinen mies kahden kumppaninsa keralla saapui toiselle\nrannalle.\nMutta kun h\u00e4n ei ollenkaan osannut portugalinkielt\u00e4, saattoivat he\npuhella kesken\u00e4\u00e4n ainoastaan merkeill\u00e4. Yst\u00e4vyyden tultua solmituksi\nl\u00e4hti musta prinssi kolmen muun miehen kanssa puron yli heid\u00e4n\nluokseen, ja pian palasi yksi neekereist\u00e4 joutuin ilmottamaan minulle,\nett\u00e4 valkoihoinen mies oli sanonut olevansa Inglese (englantilainen).\nSen voi arvata, kuinka kiihke\u00e4sti min\u00e4 riensin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 tapaamaan, ja\ntosiaankin huomasin h\u00e4net maanmiehekseni. Kyynelsilmin syleili h\u00e4n\nminua, ja h\u00e4nen j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in lyhyesti kertoessaan kovin onnettomista\nolosuhteistaan saatoimme aavistaa, miten j\u00e4rkytt\u00e4v\u00e4sti h\u00e4neen vaikutti\nn\u00e4in odottamattoman pelastuksen riemu. Olihan miljoona mahdollisuutta\nyht\u00e4 vastaan, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n. oli tuomittu Afrikan syd\u00e4mess\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4ns\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n.\nHuomasimme h\u00e4nen puhelustaan ja k\u00e4yt\u00f6ksest\u00e4\u00e4n heti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli\nsivistynyt mies, ja h\u00e4n k\u00e4yttikin latinaa haavurillemme, ranskaa\ner\u00e4\u00e4lle toiselle miehellemme ja italiaa kolmannelle. Ij\u00e4lt\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ytti olevan seitsem\u00e4n- tai kahdeksannelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 vaiheilla, vaikka\nparta oli kasvanut tavattoman pitk\u00e4ksi ja tukkakin liehui selj\u00e4ll\u00e4.\nIho oli paikotellen sieroittunut tummaksi, suomuiseksi ja auringon\nhellitt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4st\u00e4 paahteesta rakoilevaksi; h\u00e4n kertoi kaksi vuotta\nolleensa ihan alastomana.\nEnsim\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli niin rajattoman riemun vallassa, ettei\nvoinut ryhty\u00e4 mihink\u00e4\u00e4n puheisiin kanssamme, ja viel\u00e4 monena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4\nsen j\u00e4lkeen h\u00e4n puhkesi tuon tuostakin kyyneliin. H\u00e4nell\u00e4 ei ollut\najatuksiltaan aikaa kysy\u00e4 meilt\u00e4 mist\u00e4 tulimme, minne olimme menossa\ntai mit\u00e4 v\u00e4ke\u00e4 olimme, vain ajatellen meit\u00e4 taivaan vasiten l\u00e4hett\u00e4min\u00e4\npelastajina.\nH\u00e4n otti hankkiakseen meille riitt\u00e4v\u00e4sti ruokavaroja alku-asukkailta,\nilmotti miss\u00e4 olimme ja mik\u00e4 oli matkamme jatkolle oikea suunta, ja\ntoimi oivallisena tulkkina ja yst\u00e4vyyden hierojana meid\u00e4n ja villien\nv\u00e4lill\u00e4, joita nyt alkoikin olla isot parvet ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4mme. N\u00e4m\u00e4 olivat\npaljoa tuimempaa ja sotaisempaa kansaa kuin ennen tapaamamme heimot\n-- eiv\u00e4t niin helposti peloteltavia aseillamme eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 lahjottavia\npikku leluillamme, he kun olivat joko itse tehneet rannikolla kauppaa\neuropalaisten kanssa tahi olleet tekemisiss\u00e4 muiden neekeriheimojen\nkanssa, joille europalaiset olivat tunnetut.\nT\u00e4t\u00e4 en kuitenkaan sano niist\u00e4 villeist\u00e4, joiden keskess\u00e4 tulkkimme\ntapasimme, runsaan 300 engl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 rannikolta. Heid\u00e4n\nyhteytens\u00e4 muun maailman kanssa supistui siihen, ett\u00e4 he kanniskelivat\nelefantinhampaita pohjoisessa olevasta vuoristosta kuuden- tahi\nseitsem\u00e4nkymmenen engl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n etel\u00e4mm\u00e4ksi, miss\u00e4 toiset\nkauppaak\u00e4yv\u00e4t heimot ostivat ne heilt\u00e4 helmill\u00e4 ja muilla sellaisilla\nkoruilla, joita Europasta tuodaan.\nAloimme l\u00e4hemmin tutustua uuteen kumppaniimme. Vaikka itsekin olimme\nkurjassa asussa, niin vaatetimme h\u00e4net sent\u00e4\u00e4n ensi ty\u00f6ksemme parhaamme\nmukaan, haavurimme ajoi h\u00e4nen partansa ja leikkasi h\u00e4nen tukkansa,\nja h\u00e4n itse valmisti itselleen leopardinnahasta perin taitavasti\nlakin. Paljain jaloin h\u00e4n oli k\u00e4vellyt niin kauvan, ettei v\u00e4litt\u00e4nyt\nmeid\u00e4n nahkas\u00e4\u00e4ryksist\u00e4mme ja -tallukoistamme. Samaten kuin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli\nhuvittanut kuulla meid\u00e4n seikkailumme, niin mekin mielenkiinnolla\ntiedustelimme h\u00e4nen vaiheitansa. Minun kuitenkin t\u00e4ytyy mainita h\u00e4nen\nkertomuksensa sis\u00e4lt\u00f6 vain muutamin sanoin.\nH\u00e4n oli eronnut Englantilaisen Guinea-yhti\u00f6n palveluksesta sitte kun\nranskalaiset olivat vallanneet siirtolan ja ry\u00f6st\u00e4neet sek\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nyksityisen ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen haltuunsa uskotun yhti\u00f6n omaisuuden. Jonkun\naikaa oltuaan eri kauppiasten palveluksessa h\u00e4n teki sittemmin kauppaa\nomassa nimess\u00e4\u00e4n. Aavistamattaan joutui h\u00e4n er\u00e4\u00e4n villiheimon vangiksi;\nh\u00e4nen henkens\u00e4 kuitenkin s\u00e4\u00e4stettiin, ja h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4si pakenemaan toisen\nheimon luo, joka oli edellisen vihollinen ja sen vuoksi kohteli h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti. Olot eiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ajan mittaan miellytt\u00e4neet ja h\u00e4n\nkarkasi j\u00e4lleen, vaihtaen sitte tuon tuostakin is\u00e4nti\u00e4, toisinaan\nvasten tahtoansa, mutta useimmiten olosuhteiden h\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4m\u00e4n\u00e4, ja kulkien\nsiten seikkailusta seikkailuun, kunnes oli lopulta harhaillut niin\npitk\u00e4lle, ettei h\u00e4nell\u00e4 ollut pienint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n paluun mahdollisuutta.\nNykyisen heimonsa parissa h\u00e4n oli p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt suureen suosioon,\nmenestyksell\u00e4 ohjaillen heit\u00e4 kaupanteossa.\nTiedustimme h\u00e4nelt\u00e4, mit\u00e4 meid\u00e4n olisi ensiksi teht\u00e4v\u00e4 rannikolle\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksemme. H\u00e4n ilmotti meid\u00e4n olevan jokseenkin Kultarannikoksi\nnimitetyn alueen kohdalla, mutta taipaleella oli niin monia eri\nheimoja, ett\u00e4 melkein varmasti joutuisimme joko alituisiin kahakoihin\ntai saisimme k\u00e4rsi\u00e4 muonavarojen puutetta. Mutta h\u00e4n tiesi kaksi muuta\ntiet\u00e4, joita my\u00f6ten h\u00e4n olisi useasti p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt pelastumaan, jos h\u00e4nell\u00e4\nolisi vain ollut seuraa. Toinen vei suoraan l\u00e4nteen, ollen pitempi\ntaival, mutta harvemmin asuttu sek\u00e4 inhimillisempien ja heikompien\nheimojen hallussa. Toisena keinona oli yritt\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 Rio Grandelle\nja kulkea kanooteilla sit\u00e4 my\u00f6ten alas. Me huomautimme p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neemme\nkulkea juuri sit\u00e4 suuntaa ennen kuin olimme h\u00e4net tavanneet; mutta\nsitte h\u00e4n kertoi meille, ett\u00e4 v\u00e4lill\u00e4 oli suunnaton er\u00e4maa ja laajoja\naarniometsi\u00e4, joiden halki kulkeminen veisi hyvinkin ponnistellessa\nv\u00e4hint\u00e4\u00e4n kaksikymment\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Mit\u00e4\u00e4n kuormajuhtia h\u00e4n ei sanonut\nolevan niill\u00e4 seuduilla saatavissa.\nKyselimme h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 l\u00e4hemmin Kultarannikolle viev\u00e4\u00e4 tiet\u00e4, ja vakuutimme\nettei meit\u00e4 suurestikaan pelottanut neekerien kanssa taisteleminen eik\u00e4\nn\u00e4l\u00e4nh\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4n joutuminen, koska varmaan osaisimme saada osuutemme, jos\nvilleill\u00e4 itsell\u00e4ns\u00e4 oli mit\u00e4\u00e4n ruokavaroja. Jos h\u00e4n siis uskaltaisi\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 oppaaksemme, niin emme arkailisi valita sit\u00e4 suuntaa; ja mit\u00e4\nh\u00e4neen itseens\u00e4 tuli, niin lupasimme el\u00e4\u00e4 ja kuolla yhdess\u00e4 -- yksik\u00e4\u00e4n\nmeist\u00e4 ei v\u00e4istyisi h\u00e4nen sivultaan. H\u00e4n sanoi kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4\u00e4n\nliitt\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4 kohtalonsa meid\u00e4n vaiheisiimme, p\u00e4\u00e4timmep\u00e4 miten p\u00e4in\ntahansa, ja koettavansa opastaa meit\u00e4 sellaisella tavalla, ett\u00e4\ntapaisimme joitakuita yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisi\u00e4 heimoja, joista kenties saisimme\napuakin vihamielisempi\u00e4 vastaan. Niinp\u00e4 kaikin p\u00e4\u00e4timmekin taivaltaa\nsuoraan etel\u00e4\u00e4n Kultarannikkoa kohti.\nSeuraavana aamuna h\u00e4n tuli j\u00e4lleen luoksemme. Ker\u00e4ysimme kaikki\nneuvotteluun ja h\u00e4n alkoi puhella hyvin vakavasti, koska nyt olimme\npitk\u00e4n taipaleen samottuamme tulleet l\u00e4helle vaivojemme loppua ja\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti tarjoutuneet ottamaan h\u00e4net mukaamme. H\u00e4n oli kaiken\ny\u00f6t\u00e4 hautonut mieless\u00e4\u00e4n, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n ja me kaikki voisimme tehd\u00e4\njossakin m\u00e4\u00e4rin korvataksemme k\u00e4rsimyksi\u00e4mme. Ensinn\u00e4kin h\u00e4n katsoi\nvelvollisuudekseen ilmaista minulle, ett\u00e4 ymp\u00e4rist\u00f6mme oli maailman\nrikkaimpia seutuja, niin er\u00e4maata kuin se olikin.\n\"T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ei ole ainoatakaan jokea\", puheli h\u00e4n, \"jossa ei olisi\nkultahietaa -- ei er\u00e4maan p\u00e4lve\u00e4, joka ei kantaisi norsunluun satoa.\nMit\u00e4 suunnattomia kulta-aarteita nuo vuoret k\u00e4tkev\u00e4t, joilta n\u00e4m\u00e4\njoet saapuvat, tai rannat, joiden ohitse ne soluvat, sit\u00e4 emme tied\u00e4,\nmutta voimme kuitenkin aavistella niiden rikkautta, n\u00e4hdess\u00e4mme jokien\nkuljettavan mukanaan niin runsaasti kultahietaa, ett\u00e4 sit\u00e4 riitt\u00e4\u00e4\nkaikille Europan t\u00e4nne l\u00e4hett\u00e4mille kauppamiehille.\"\nH\u00e4n kertoi rannikon neekerien penkovan jokia 150 tai 200 engl.\npenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n sis\u00e4maahan ja olevan matkalla yhdest\u00e4 kolmeen\nkuukauteen kerrallaan, aina tuoden mukanaan kelpo saaliin; \"mutta\", h\u00e4n\nsanoi, \"he eiv\u00e4t milloinkaan tule n\u00e4in kauas, ja kuitenkin on t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nainakin yht\u00e4 paljon kultahietaa kuin siell\u00e4kin.\" H\u00e4n arveli, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nolisi t\u00e4nne tultuaan voinut ker\u00e4t\u00e4 v\u00e4hint\u00e4\u00e4n sata naulaa kultaa, jos\nolisi huolinut sit\u00e4 haeskella; mutta kun h\u00e4n ei tiennyt mit\u00e4 sill\u00e4\ntehd\u00e4 ja oli jo ammoin herjennyt toivomasta pelastusta, niin h\u00e4n ei\nollut laisinkaan ryhtynyt moiseen yritykseen.\n\"T\u00e4ss\u00e4\", lian lis\u00e4si ottaen esille p\u00e4iv\u00e4paisteessa kuivatun saviruukun\nkappaleen, \"on pikku er\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n maan hiekkaa, jolla t\u00e4h\u00e4n asti ei\nole ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n arvoa.\" Kultahiekkaa oli siin\u00e4 parin kolmen naulan\nvaiheille, saman laatuista ja v\u00e4rist\u00e4 kuin meid\u00e4nkin jo huuhtomamme\nhiekka. Hymyillen tarjosi h\u00e4n sit\u00e4 meille lahjaksi, koska sill\u00e4 olisi\narvonsa meid\u00e4n palattuamme kotimaahamme, sanoen vasta ensi kertaa\nkatuvansa, ettei ollut sit\u00e4 hankkinut lis\u00e4\u00e4. Min\u00e4 tulkitsin h\u00e4nen\nsanansa tovereilleni ja kiitin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 meid\u00e4n puolestamme. Kaikki\nolivat ihastuneita h\u00e4nen hienoon luonteeseensa. P\u00e4\u00e4timme liitt\u00e4\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen kultansa entiseen varastoomme ja ottaa h\u00e4net osakkaaksi siihen,\nvannottaen h\u00e4net samaan yksituumaisuuteen, jonka olimme itsekin\nvalallamme vahvistaneet. Siten h\u00e4n tuli saaneeksi enemm\u00e4n kuin meille\nantoi, ja me kerroimme h\u00e4nelle Kultavirralla kokemamme seikkailut.\nH\u00e4n esitti, ett\u00e4 me ennen matkalle l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4mme ja riitt\u00e4vill\u00e4\nruokavaroilla varustettuina poikkeaisimme hankkimaan niin suuren\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n norsunluuta, kuin saattaisimme mukanamme kannatuttaa. Min\u00e4\nolin t\u00e4t\u00e4 yrityst\u00e4 vastaan, sill\u00e4 uskolliset neekerimme tuottaisivat\nverrattomasti enemm\u00e4n hy\u00f6ty\u00e4 kultahiekan huuhdonnassa kuin\nlaahustamalla raskaita kantamuksia, jotka niin pitk\u00e4n vaelluksen\nj\u00e4lkeen voisivat heid\u00e4t suorastaan menehdyksiin n\u00e4\u00e4nnytt\u00e4\u00e4. H\u00e4nenkin\nt\u00e4ytyi my\u00f6nt\u00e4\u00e4 mielipiteeni oikeaksi. Kaksitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 vietimme\npaikoillamme, joll'aikaa alkuasukkaat olivat meille hyvin avuliaita\nja toivat meille runsaasti hedelmi\u00e4 ja monenlaisia kasviksia, jotka\nme maksoimme veitsisepp\u00e4mme pikku koruilla. Kolmantenatoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4\nl\u00e4ksimme taipaleelle.\nSuuntamme oli etel\u00e4inen ja lounainen, ja pian tapasimme runsaan 2,000\nengl. penikulman samoamisen j\u00e4lkeen ensim\u00e4isen etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti juoksevan\njoen: kaikki muut olivat virranneet pohjoiseen tai l\u00e4nteen. Etenimme\nsen vartta pitkin; kohtalaisen kokoisesta purosta se v\u00e4hitellen\npaisui yh\u00e4 vesirikkaammaksi virraksi. Oppaamme tutki tuon tuostakin\npohjan laatua, kunnes yhden p\u00e4iv\u00e4matkan tehty\u00e4mme juoksi luoksemme\nk\u00e4det t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 hiekkaa, sanoen: \"Katsokaa\". Huomasimme siin\u00e4 jokseenkin\nrunsaasti kultajyv\u00e4si\u00e4 seassa.\n\"Nyt voimme luullakseni k\u00e4yd\u00e4 ty\u00f6h\u00f6n\", arveli h\u00e4n.\nNeekerimme jaettiin pareiksi ja pantiin seulomaan pohjahietaa.\nEnsim\u00e4isen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluessa saatiin ker\u00e4tyksi kaikkiaan noin naula ja\nkaksi unssia kultaa, ja kun huomasimme kultapitoisuuden lis\u00e4\u00e4ntyv\u00e4n\nmit\u00e4 etemm\u00e4ksi menimme, niin seurasimme jokea kolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n ajan.\nSilloin yhtyi siihen pieni sivujoki, josta niinik\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00f6ysimme kultaa.\nPystytimme sen vuoksi leirimme jokien haaraan ja jaoimme joukkomme\nkahdeksi osastoksi, kullan huuhtojiksi ja ruokavarojen hankkijoiksi.\nPysyimme alallamme kolmetoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, joll'aikaa meill\u00e4 oli villien\nkanssa monia hauskoja seikkailuja, liian pitk\u00e4llisi\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 mainita ja\njotkut liian j\u00e4reit\u00e4kin, sill\u00e4 muutamat miehemme olivat k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytyneet\njotenkuten vapaasti heid\u00e4n naisiansa kohtaan. T\u00e4st\u00e4 olisi ollut\nseurauksena sota, ellei uusi oppaamme olisi saanut rauhaa rakennetuksi\nseitsem\u00e4ll\u00e4 komealla hopealevyll\u00e4, joista taiturimme leikkeli leijonia,\nkaloja ja lintuja, varustaen ne reijill\u00e4, joista niit\u00e4 saattoi kantaa.\nKultahiedan huuhtomista harjotettiin uutterasti, ja kaiken aikaa\ntakoi ja leikkeli nerokas veitsisepp\u00e4mme yh\u00e4 n\u00e4pp\u00e4r\u00e4mpi\u00e4 elefantteja,\ntiikereit\u00e4, sivettikissoja, kameelikurkia, kotkia, kaloja ja sanalla\nsanoen mit\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 mieleen johtui, k\u00e4ytt\u00e4en aineenansa ohuita\ntakokullan levyj\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen hopeansa ja rautansa oli melkein\nlopussa. Er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 villien kaupungissa otti meid\u00e4t hyvin yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti\nvastaan heid\u00e4n kuninkaansa, ja h\u00e4n oli niin ihastunut taiturimme\nleluihin, ett\u00e4 maksoi kourallisen kultahietaa mit\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4n pienest\u00e4\nelefantin kuvasta. Taiturimme oli niin rehellinen, ett\u00e4 luovutti\nt\u00e4m\u00e4nkin er\u00e4n yhteiseen varastoomme, vaikka ty\u00f6 ja taito olivat\nh\u00e4nen omaansa. Mutta meill\u00e4 ei ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n ahnehtimisen syyt\u00e4,\nsill\u00e4 olimmehan kyllin voimakkaat puolustautumaan, joten voisimme\najan mittaan ker\u00e4t\u00e4 kultaa miten paljon tahansa. Oppaamme esittikin\nmeille, ett\u00e4 vaikka h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli yht\u00e4 paljon syyt\u00e4 olla kyll\u00e4stynyt\nt\u00e4h\u00e4n maahan, kuin kenell\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n meist\u00e4, k\u00e4\u00e4ntyisimme kuitenkin hiukan\nkaakkoiseen, pystytt\u00e4\u00e4ksemme leirimme sellaiselle p\u00e4\u00e4kortteeriksemme\nsopivalle paikalle, miss\u00e4 olisi kyll\u00e4lt\u00e4 ruokavaroja saatavissa, ja\npenkoaksemme seudun virtoja joka taholla parin kolmen vuoden ajan.\nTiesimme kyll\u00e4, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 suunnitelma tuottaisi meille suuria\nrikkauksia. Mutta esitys ei meille kuitenkaan soveltunut, sill\u00e4 meit\u00e4\nkaikkia halutti enemm\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 kotiin kuin rikastua, ylenm\u00e4\u00e4rin\nv\u00e4syneit\u00e4 kun olimme runsaasti vuoden yht\u00e4mittaa samottuamme er\u00e4maita\nvillien petojen keskess\u00e4. Mutta uusi tuttavamme osasi houkutella niin\nkaunopuheisesti ja k\u00e4ytti niin vaikuttavia todisteluja, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli\nmahdoton kokonaan vastustaa. H\u00e4nen mielest\u00e4\u00e4n oli j\u00e4rjet\u00f6nt\u00e4 j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4\nkorjaamatta kaikkien vaivojemme hedelmi\u00e4 nyt kun olimme satoon saakka\np\u00e4\u00e4sseet. Europalaiset antausivat laivoinensa ja miehinens\u00e4 suuriin\nvaaroihin ja kuluihin, noutaakseen v\u00e4h\u00e4isen kultaa; mek\u00f6 sen keskess\u00e4\nollen l\u00e4htisimme melkein tyhjin k\u00e4sin, kotimaassa sitte varmasti\nkatuaksemme, ettei meill\u00e4 500 kultakolikon asemesta ollut 5,000,\n10,000 tai kuinka paljon hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4? El\u00e4\u00e4ksemme lopun ik\u00e4mme kaikessa\nmukavuudessa, tarvitsisi meid\u00e4n, vakuutti h\u00e4n, j\u00e4rkev\u00e4sti uurastaa vain\npari vuotta kullan huuhdonnassa ja norsunluun hankkimisessa.\nHaavurimme oli ensim\u00e4inen taipumaan h\u00e4nen puolelleen, ja h\u00e4nen\nj\u00e4lkeens\u00e4 tykkimies. Heill\u00e4kin oli suuri vaikutusvalta meihin, mutta\nkell\u00e4\u00e4n muulla ei ollut halua j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4, eik\u00e4 minullakaan, sen tunnustan.\nMinulla ei ollut aavistusta isojen rahasummien merkityksest\u00e4, enk\u00e4\ntiennyt, mit\u00e4 sellaisilla tekisin. Minulla oli mielest\u00e4ni jo kylliksi,\neik\u00e4 minulla ollut kotimaassa hommatakseni muuta mieless\u00e4, kuin tuhlata\nse niin nopeasti kuin voisin, ostaa itselleni hiukan vaatteita ja\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 j\u00e4lleen merille saalistamaan lis\u00e4\u00e4.\nH\u00e4n sai meid\u00e4t sent\u00e4\u00e4n suostutelluksi j\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n maahan edes kuudeksi\nkuukaudeksi, jolloin h\u00e4n puolestaan olisi valmis l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n, jos me\ntahtoisimme. Siirryimme viitisenkymment\u00e4 engl. penikulmaa kaakkoon,\nmiss\u00e4 tapasimme useita pikku jokia. N\u00e4m\u00e4 n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t kaikki tulevan\nisosta koillisessa olevasta vuoristosta, jonka p\u00e4\u00e4ttelimme sill\u00e4\npuolen olevan sen laajan er\u00e4maan rajana, joka meid\u00e4n oli ollut pakko\npohjoispuolelta kiert\u00e4\u00e4. Seutu oli karua kyll\u00e4kin, mutta ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\nasuvilta neekereilt\u00e4 sai vaihdetuksi mit\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4. He viljeliv\u00e4t\nmaissia ja mekin istutimme sit\u00e4, saaden ahkeran kastelun avulla korjata\nsadon vajaan kolmen kuukauden kuluttua.\nRyhdyimme j\u00e4lleen huuhtomaan kultaa, ja oppaamme ohjasi hommiamme niin\nhyvin, ett\u00e4 ponnistuksemme harvoin olivat tuloksia tuottamatta. V\u00e4h\u00e4n\najan kuluttua pyysi h\u00e4n lupaa saada nelj\u00e4n tai viiden neekerin keralla\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 viikon ajaksi etsim\u00e4\u00e4n onneansa ja katsomaan mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n voisi\net\u00e4\u00e4mp\u00e4n\u00e4 l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 yhteisen varastomme kartuttamiseksi. Me suostuimme,\nkaksi miehist\u00e4mme halusi l\u00e4hte\u00e4 mukaan, ja he ottivat matkalleen\nkuusi neekeri\u00e4 sek\u00e4 viimeiset kaksi puhveliamme. Leip\u00e4\u00e4 he ottivat\nkahdeksaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi, mutta kuivattua lihaa ainoastaan kahdeksi. He\nnousivat \u00e4sken mainitsemani vuoriston harjalle ja huomasivat sen\ntakana n\u00e4k\u00f6j\u00e4\u00e4n aivan saman er\u00e4maan, joka meit\u00e4 oli t\u00e4ydell\u00e4 syyll\u00e4\nkauhistuttanut ollessamme sen toisella puolella.\nHeid\u00e4n kokemuksistaan k\u00e4visi liian pitk\u00e4ksi t\u00e4ss\u00e4 kertoa. He viipyiv\u00e4t\npoissa kaksikuudetta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, tuoden mukanaan runsaasti seitsem\u00e4ntoista\nnaulaa kultahiekkaa, jossa oli joukossa paljoa isompia jyv\u00e4si\u00e4 kuin\nolimme ennen n\u00e4hneet. Sit\u00e4paitsi oli heill\u00e4 noin viisitoista tonnia\nelefantinhampaita, jotka h\u00e4n osittain hyv\u00e4ll\u00e4, osittain pahalla oli\nsaanut seudun villit noutamaan ja kantamaan alas vuoristosta, hankkien\ntaas toisia laahaamaan ne ihan leirillemme asti. Suurestipa meit\u00e4\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4styttikin n\u00e4hd\u00e4 h\u00e4nen seurassaan parisataa neekeri\u00e4, mutta asian\nk\u00e4sitimme heti, kun he kaikin heittiv\u00e4t kantamuksensa r\u00f6ykki\u00f6ksi\nleirimme ulkopuolelle. Viel\u00e4 oli heill\u00e4 kaksi leijonan ja viisi\nleopardin taljaa, hyvin isoja ja muhkeita. H\u00e4n pyysi pitk\u00e4llist\u00e4\npoissaoloansa anteeksi ja valitti saalistansa pieneksi, sanoen\ntekev\u00e4ns\u00e4 viel\u00e4 yhden retken ja odottavansa siit\u00e4 parempaa.\nKantajat saivat koruja palkakseen, poistuen hyvin tyytyv\u00e4isin\u00e4. Pian\nl\u00e4ksi h\u00e4n toiselle matkalle, nyt mukanansa kymmenen valkoihoista ja\nkymmenen neekeri\u00e4 sek\u00e4 samat kaksi puhvelia ruoka- ja ampumavaroja\nkantamassa. He l\u00e4ksiv\u00e4t j\u00e4lleen samoille tienoille ja viipyiv\u00e4t\nainoastaan kaksinelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin kaataen kokonaista\nviisitoista leopardia, kolme leijonaa ja useita muita otuksia,\nsek\u00e4 tuoden nelj\u00e4kolmatta naulaa kultahietaa ja ainoastaan kuusi\nelefantinhammasta, mutta nep\u00e4 olivatkin tavattoman isoja.\nEnglantilainen yst\u00e4v\u00e4mme todisti, ett\u00e4 olimme nyt k\u00e4ytt\u00e4neet\naikaamme hyvin. Olimmehan viidess\u00e4 kuukaudessa ker\u00e4nneet niin paljon\nkultahietaa, ett\u00e4 sit\u00e4 nyt entisen lis\u00e4ksi oli viisi naulaa ja\nnelj\u00e4nnes kutakin osakasta kohti, taitavan seppomme saatua v\u00e4hin erin\nkuusi tai seitsem\u00e4n naulaa k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4kseen lelujen valmistukseen. Ja\nnyt puhelimme l\u00e4htev\u00e4mme rannikkoa kohti, lopettaaksemme vaelluksemme.\nMutta oppaamme nauroi. \"Ei, nyt ette voi l\u00e4hte\u00e4\", sanoi h\u00e4n, \"sill\u00e4\nsadekausi alkaa ensi kuussa, eik\u00e4 silloin voi olla liikkeell\u00e4.\"\nMeid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyi my\u00f6nt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen muistutuksensa oikeaksi. Ryhdyimme\nvarustautumaan ruokavaroilla, kierrellen kaikki mets\u00e4stysretkill\u00e4, ja\nneekerimme kaatoivat muutamia hirvi\u00e4, jotka parhaamme mukaan kuivasimme\np\u00e4iv\u00e4paisteessa, sill\u00e4 meill\u00e4 ei en\u00e4\u00e4 ollut suolaa. Sateet saavuttivat\nmeid\u00e4t sitten, ja runsaasti kahteen kuukauteen saatoimme tuskin\naskeltakaan poistua m\u00f6keist\u00e4mme. Pienet jokemme paisuivat vuolaiksi\nvirroiksi. Kauniin s\u00e4\u00e4n palattua sanoi oppaamme, ettei h\u00e4n tahtonut\nyritt\u00e4\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 houkutella meit\u00e4 viipym\u00e4\u00e4n kauvemmin, koska kerran emme\nv\u00e4litt\u00e4neet siit\u00e4, saisimmeko lis\u00e4\u00e4 kultaa. Ensi kertaa el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n\nsanoi h\u00e4n nyt tavanneensa miehi\u00e4, jotka tyytyiv\u00e4t jo saamaansa kultaan\nja joista saattoi todella sanoa, ett\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t viitsineet kumartua\nsit\u00e4 jalkojensakaan juuresta ottamaan. Mutta h\u00e4n katsoi kuitenkin\nvelvollisuudekseen huomauttaa meille, ett\u00e4 nyt tulvan j\u00e4lkeen oli\nparhaiten saatavissa kultaa. Jos j\u00e4isimme vain kuukaudeksikaan, niin\nn\u00e4kisimme tuhansia villej\u00e4 kaikkialla huuhtelemassa niit\u00e4 europalaisia\nlaivoja varten, joita saapuu rannikolle. Tulvat nimitt\u00e4in hivuttavat\nsuuria m\u00e4\u00e4ri\u00e4 kultaa yl\u00e4ng\u00f6ilt\u00e4, ja jos k\u00e4ytt\u00e4isimme hetke\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ksemme\nennen noiden tuloa, niin kuka ties mit\u00e4 kaikkea saisimmekaan aikaan.\nEmme tosiaankaan hennonneet pid\u00e4tty\u00e4 n\u00e4in loistavasta tilaisuudesta.\nEnsim\u00e4lt\u00e4 emme paljoakaan l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet, joet kun eiv\u00e4t olleet viel\u00e4\nlaskeutuneet varsinaisiin uomiinsa; mutta muutaman p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua\nkertyi saalis runsaaksi ja jyv\u00e4set olivat isompia. Er\u00e4s mies l\u00f6ysi\npienen p\u00e4hkin\u00e4n kokoisen murun. Ei kulunut paljoa yli kuukauden, kun\nmeill\u00e4 oli kaikkiaan koossa l\u00e4hes kuusikymment\u00e4 naulaa, mutta silloin\nolikin jo villej\u00e4 naisineen ja lapsineen m\u00f6yrim\u00e4ss\u00e4 suurin parvin\njokaisessa joessa ja purossa sek\u00e4 kuivalla yl\u00e4ng\u00f6ll\u00e4kin, joten meid\u00e4n\ntuotantomme ehtyi. Mutta veitsisepp\u00e4mme oli varannut valmiiksi ison\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n korujansa ja niill\u00e4 saatiin vaihdetuksi kultahietaa niiden\nmoninkertainen arvo.\nKolmen kuukauden kuluttua oli kutakin osakasta kohden taas nelj\u00e4\nnaulaa lis\u00e4\u00e4 koolla. Silloin l\u00e4ksimme viimeinkin taivaltamaan\nKultarannikkoa kohti. T\u00e4m\u00e4 matka oli hyvinkin vaiherikas. Vapautimmepa\nvankeudesta er\u00e4\u00e4n neekerikuninkaankin, joka oli ollut oppaamme\nhyv\u00e4ntekij\u00e4n\u00e4, ja toimitimme h\u00e4nelle takaisin kuningaskuntansa, jossa\nlienee ollut kolmisensataa asukasta. H\u00e4n kestitsi meit\u00e4 komeasti ja\nl\u00e4hetti alamaisensa meid\u00e4n englantilaisemme keralla hakemaan kaikki\nelefantinhampaamme, jotka meid\u00e4n oli t\u00e4ytynyt j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4ljelle, ja\nkantamaan ne er\u00e4\u00e4lle virralle, jonka nimen olen unohtanut. Siell\u00e4 me\nteimme lauttoja ja p\u00e4\u00e4simme yhdess\u00e4toista p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4 Kultarannikolle\ner\u00e4\u00e4seen hollantilaiseen siirtolaan, tullen perille ihan tervein\u00e4 ja\ntyytyv\u00e4isin\u00e4.\nNorsunluumme m\u00f6imme hollantilaiselle kauppahuoneelle ja saimme\nvaatteita ja muuta tarpeellista itsellemme ja niille neekereillemme,\njoita katsoimme sopiviksi pit\u00e4\u00e4 seurassamme. Kannattanee mainita,\nett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 vaelluksemme p\u00e4\u00e4ttyess\u00e4 oli nelj\u00e4 naulaa ruutia j\u00e4ljell\u00e4.\nNeekeriprinssin me vapautimme kokonaan, vaatetimme h\u00e4net ja annoimme\nh\u00e4nelle puolitoista naulaa kultaa, jota h\u00e4n jo varsin hyvin osasi\nk\u00e4ytell\u00e4. Me erosimme toisistamme mit\u00e4 parhaimpina yst\u00e4vin\u00e4.\nEnglantilaisemme j\u00e4i joksikin aikaa hollantilaisen kauppahuoneen\nhommiin ja kuoli siell\u00e4 surusta, kuten j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in kuulin. H\u00e4n\nnimitt\u00e4in oli l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt useampia tuhansia puntia Englantiin Hollannin\nkautta, ollakseen turvattu omaistensa luokse palattuaan, mutta\nranskalaiset sieppasivat laivan kaikkine lastinensa.\nMuut kumppanini l\u00e4ksiv\u00e4t pienell\u00e4 parkkilaivalla kahteen Gambian\nl\u00e4hell\u00e4 14. leveysasteella olevaan portugalilaiseen siirtolaan, ja min\u00e4\ntaasen kahden neekerin saattamana, jotka pidin mukanani, l\u00e4ksin Cape\nCoast Castleen. Sielt\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sin laivalla Englantiin, tullen syyskuussa\nperille, ja siten p\u00e4\u00e4ttyi ensim\u00e4inen hurjistelumatkani. Toiset eiv\u00e4t\ntuottaneet yht\u00e4 hyv\u00e4\u00e4 satoa.\nMinulla ei ollut yst\u00e4vi\u00e4, omaisia eik\u00e4 tuttavia Englannissa, vaikka\nse oli synnyinmaani. Siisp\u00e4 ei minulla my\u00f6sk\u00e4\u00e4n ollut ket\u00e4\u00e4n, jolle\nolisin voinut uskoa omaisuuteni tai jolta olisin saanut neuvoja sen\ns\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4miseksi ja turvaamiseksi. Jouduin huonoon seuraan, uskoin suuren\nosan rahojani er\u00e4\u00e4n Rotherhithessa olevan kapakan omistajan haltuun,\nja tuhlasin nopeasti loput. Ei ollut kulunut paljoa yli kahden vuoden,\nkun koko tuo suurilla vaivoilla ja vaaroilla voitettu iso summa oli\nmennytt\u00e4. Minua raivostuttaa viel\u00e4kin ajatella mill\u00e4 tavoin sen\nhaaskasin; siit\u00e4 ei siis sen enemp\u00e4\u00e4, kuin ett\u00e4 se meni hullutuksiin\nja syntiin. T\u00e4m\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4ni taival oli alkanut varkaudella ja p\u00e4\u00e4ttyi\nmenneeseen ylellisyyteen; surkea alku ja kehnompi loppu.\nSEITSEM\u00c4S LUKU.\nMerirosvo ja kveekari.\nVuoden ---- vaiheilla aloin n\u00e4hd\u00e4 varojeni tekev\u00e4n loppua ja ajan\nolevan k\u00e4sill\u00e4 uusien seikkailujen ajattelemiseen. Riist\u00e4j\u00e4ni,\njoiksi heit\u00e4 sanon, alkoivat vihjailla minulle, ett\u00e4 rahojeni menty\u00e4\njoutaisin min\u00e4kin heid\u00e4n puolestaan menem\u00e4\u00e4n, niin suosiollisesti\nkuin olinkin niit\u00e4 heille jaellut. Minua kauhistutti heid\u00e4n raaka\nkiitt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6myytens\u00e4, mutta pian tyynnyin enk\u00e4 lopultakaan suuresti\nkatunut silloin sit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 olin suuremmoisen omaisuuteni haaskannut\nloppuun.\nOtin onnettomana hetken\u00e4 pestin er\u00e4\u00e4seen Cadiziin l\u00e4htev\u00e4\u00e4n laivaan.\nEspanjan rannikolla pakotti navakka lounastuuli meid\u00e4t poikkeamaan\nGroyniin. Siell\u00e4 jouduin muutamien oikeiden konnanpoikien pariin. Yksi\nniist\u00e4, muita rohkeampi, ly\u00f6tt\u00e4ysi minun kanssani hyvin l\u00e4heisiin\nv\u00e4leihin; me kutsuimme toisiamme veljiksi ja puhelimme kaikki asiamme\ntoinen toisellemme. H\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 oli Harris. T\u00e4m\u00e4 mies tuli er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4\naamuna pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n minua maihin ja min\u00e4 suostuin; sain kapteenilta luvan\nottaa veneen ja me l\u00e4ksimme yhdess\u00e4. Kahden kesken jouduttuamme h\u00e4n\nkysyi, haluaisinko ryhty\u00e4 seikkailuun, joka saattaisi korvata kaikki\nkestetyt vastukset. Sanoin olevani kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni sellaiseen\nvalmis, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en v\u00e4litt\u00e4nyt siit\u00e4 minne joutuisin, minulla kun ei\nollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n menetett\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 eik\u00e4 ket\u00e4\u00e4n j\u00e4lkeeni j\u00e4\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4.\nH\u00e4n vannotti minut pysym\u00e4\u00e4n hommasta visusti vaiti, vaikken siihen\nryhtyisik\u00e4\u00e4n, sitoutuen pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n salaisuuden valoilla niin kamalilla\nkuin paholainen ja me kaksi osasimme keksi\u00e4.\nH\u00e4n viittasi satamassa ankkuroitsevaan englantilaiseen laivaan ja\nsanoi, ett\u00e4 laivassa oli er\u00e4s urhea mies p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt muutamien muiden\nkeralla tehd\u00e4 seuraavana aamuna kapinan, ja ett\u00e4 me voisimme tehd\u00e4\nsamaten, jos l\u00f6yt\u00e4isimme kylliksi tukea oman laivamme miehist\u00e4.\nMinua miellytti ehdotus suurestikin, ja h\u00e4n sai kahdeksan meist\u00e4\nyhtym\u00e4\u00e4n suunnitelmaansa. Heti h\u00e4nen yst\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4 ryhdytty\u00e4 ty\u00f6h\u00f6n ja\np\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4 laivansa herraksi piti meid\u00e4n vuorostamme olla valmiina\nrynn\u00e4kk\u00f6\u00f6n. Minua ei yrityksen konnuus eik\u00e4 sen vaikeus saanut\nv\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ep\u00e4r\u00f6im\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta meid\u00e4n hankkeemme ei kuitenkaan onnistunut\nt\u00e4ydellisesti.\nSovittuna hetken\u00e4 k\u00e4vi h\u00e4nen toisella laivalla oleva yst\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4, jonka\nnimi oli Wilmot, ty\u00f6h\u00f6ns\u00e4 k\u00e4siksi, vangitsi p\u00e4\u00e4llyst\u00f6n, otti laivan\nhaltuunsa ja antoi meille merkin. Mutta meid\u00e4n salaliittoomme oli saatu\nvain yksitoista miest\u00e4; useampiin emme voineet luottaa. Meid\u00e4n ei\nauttanut muu kuin ottaa laivan vene ja soutaa kapinoitsijain luo.\nKapteeni Wilmot, kuten h\u00e4nt\u00e4 nyt nimitimme, ja h\u00e4nen uusi joukkonsa\nottivat meid\u00e4t suurella riemulla vastaan. Ollen hyvin valmistunut\nkaikenlaiseen konnuuteen, uskalikko ja hurja, ly\u00f6tt\u00e4ysin v\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\narkailematta t\u00e4h\u00e4n joukkoon, jonka kautta lopulta jouduin aikakauden\nkuuluisimpien merirosvojen kumppanuuteen, joista jotkut ovat p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neet\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ns\u00e4 hirsipuussa. Olin nyt oikeassa elementiss\u00e4ni enk\u00e4 ollut\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4ni ryhtynyt mihink\u00e4\u00e4n niin suurella tyytyv\u00e4isyydell\u00e4.\nOn helppo arvata, ettei kapteeni Wilmotin tehnyt mieli j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4\nsatamaan odottamaan maan puolelta teht\u00e4vi\u00e4 yrityksi\u00e4 tai miehist\u00f6ns\u00e4\nmielentilassa mahdollisesti sattuvia muutoksia. Nostimme ankkurimme\nseuraavan pakoveden aikana ja l\u00e4ksimme merelle, ohjaten Kanarian\nsaaria kohti. Laivassamme oli kaksikolmatta kanuunaa, mutta se pystyi\nkantamaan kolmekymment\u00e4; ja kun se sit\u00e4paitsi oli varustettu vain\nkauppalaivaksi, niin ei siin\u00e4 ollut meid\u00e4n tarkotukseemme riitt\u00e4vi\u00e4\nampumavaroja ja pikku aseita. Sen vuoksi ankkuroitsimme v\u00e4lill\u00e4 Cadizin\nlahdella; kapteeni ja er\u00e4s, jota me nimitimme nuoreksi kapteeni\nKiddiksi, meniv\u00e4t muutamien luotettavien miesten keralla maihin,\nniiden mukana Harris, josta oli tehty toinen per\u00e4mies, ja min\u00e4, joka\nolin ylennyt luutnantiksi. Ajateltiin vied\u00e4 mukanamme maihin muutamia\nk\u00e4\u00e4ryj\u00e4 englantilaisia tavaroita myyt\u00e4v\u00e4ksi, mutta toverini, joka oli\nkerrassaan k\u00e4yt\u00e4nn\u00f6llinen mies ammatissaan, esitti paremman tavan.\nH\u00e4n oli k\u00e4ynyt kaupungissa ennenkin ja tarjoutui ostamaan ruutia,\nluoteja, pikku aseita ja mit\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 tarvitsimme pelk\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n sill\u00e4\nvakuudella, ett\u00e4 ne maksettaisiin laivaan tuotaessa sellaisilla\nenglantilaisilla tavaroilla kuin meill\u00e4 lastinamme oli. Niinp\u00e4 h\u00e4n ja\nkapteeni k\u00e4viv\u00e4tkin kahteen mieheen tekem\u00e4ss\u00e4 kauppoja; he viipyiv\u00e4t\npoissa vain kaksi tuntia, tuoden mukanaan ainoastaan aamin viini\u00e4 ja\nviisi astiallista konjakkia.\nSeuraavana aamuna tuli laivamme viereen kaksi _barcos longos_\nt\u00e4ydess\u00e4 lastissa, tuoden viisi espanjalaista tekem\u00e4\u00e4n vaihtokauppaa.\nKapteenimme m\u00f6i heille yht\u00e4 ja toista rihkamaa, ja he luovuttivat\nmeille kuusitoista tynn\u00f6rillist\u00e4 ruutia, kaksitoista pikku\nnassakkaa hienoa ruutia pyssyj\u00e4mme varten, kuusikymment\u00e4 muskettia\nja p\u00e4\u00e4llyst\u00f6lle kaksitoista tussaria; kanuunankuulia tuotiin\nseitsem\u00e4ntoista tonnia, musketinluoteja viisitoista tynn\u00f6rillist\u00e4,\nsek\u00e4 joitakuita miekkoja ja kaksikymment\u00e4 paria hyvi\u00e4 pistooleja.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n lis\u00e4ksi he toivat kolmetoista aamia viini\u00e4 (sill\u00e4 me halveksimme\nnyt herrasmiehiksi tultuamme laivaolutta), kuusitoista astiallista\nkonjakkia sek\u00e4 kaksitoista tynn\u00f6rillist\u00e4 rusinoita ja kaksikymment\u00e4\nlaatikkoa sitruunia. Kaikki maksoimme englantilaisilla tavaroilla, ja\nkapteeni sai p\u00e4\u00e4lle p\u00e4\u00e4tteeksi kuusisataa kultakolikkoa rahassa. He\nolisivat tulleet toistamiseen, mutta me emme tahtoneet viipy\u00e4 kauvempaa.\nSielt\u00e4 purjehdimme Kanarian saarille ja jatkoimme matkaa L\u00e4nsi-Intiaan,\nmiss\u00e4 riistimme espanjalaisilta jonkun verran ruokavaroja ja valtasimme\nmuutamia aluksia, vaikkakin v\u00e4h\u00e4arvoisia. Pitk\u00e4\u00e4 aikaa en silloin\nollutkaan heid\u00e4n parissaan, sill\u00e4 otettuamme Carthagenan rannikolla\ner\u00e4\u00e4n espanjalaisen purren esitti minulle yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni, ett\u00e4 pyyt\u00e4isimme\nkapteeni Wilmotia siirt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n meid\u00e4t siihen ja antamaan meille\nsuhteellisen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n aseita ja ampumavaroja, jotta yritt\u00e4isimme mit\u00e4 me\nvoisimme tehd\u00e4. Pursi oli paljoa sopivampi hommiimme kuin iso laiva,\nja parempi kulkemaan. H\u00e4n suostui, ja me p\u00e4\u00e4timme kohdata toisemme\nTobagon edustalla. Sopimus oli sellainen, ett\u00e4 molempien laivojen\nsaalis jaettaisiin yhteisesti kaikkien kesken. Sit\u00e4 seurasimmekin hyvin\ns\u00e4ntilleen, ja laivamme yhtyiv\u00e4t j\u00e4lleen noin viisitoista kuukautta\nmy\u00f6hemmin Tobagon saaren luona.\nL\u00e4hes kaksi vuotta risteilimme noilla vesill\u00e4, etup\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 espanjalaisia\nh\u00e4tyytellen. Emme tosin s\u00e4\u00e4lineet englantilaisiakaan laivoja, tai\nhollantilaisia ja ranskalaisia, jos niit\u00e4 sattui tiellemme; ja\nkapteeni Wilmot valtasi er\u00e4\u00e4n uus-englantilaisen laivan matkalla\nMadeirasta Jamaikaan sek\u00e4 toisen, joka oli viem\u00e4ss\u00e4 ruokavaroja New\nYorkista Barbadosiin, mik\u00e4 seikka oli meille suureksi avuksi. Mutta\nenglantilaisia laivoja emme tavotelleet ensiksik\u00e4\u00e4n siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 ne jonkinkaan kokoisina tekiv\u00e4t kovin ankaraa vastarintaa, ja\ntoisekseen syyst\u00e4 ett\u00e4 niist\u00e4 sai v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n saalista, Espanjalaisilla\ntaasen oli yleens\u00e4 rahaa mukanaan, ja sit\u00e4 me parhaiten osasimme\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4. Kapteeni Wilmot olikin erityisemm\u00e4n julma silloin kun tuli\nvallanneeksi jonkun englantilaisen laivan, jotta h\u00e4nest\u00e4 ei olisi liian\naikaisin kuultu kotimaassa ja sotalaivoja k\u00e4sketty pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nsilm\u00e4ll\u00e4. Mutta t\u00e4m\u00e4n osan hautaan t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa \u00e4\u00e4nett\u00f6myyteen.\nMe kartutimme varastoamme n\u00e4in\u00e4 kahtena vuotena melkoisesti,\nkorjattuamme 60,000 kultakolikkoa er\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 laivasta ja 100,000 toisesta;\nja siten ensin rikastuttuamme me p\u00e4\u00e4timme koitua voimakkaiksi, sill\u00e4\nme olimme vallanneet Virginiassa rakennetun kuunariparkin, joka oli\noivallinen merenkulkija sek\u00e4 hyv\u00e4 purjehtija, ja pystyi kantamaan\nkaksitoista tykki\u00e4, niinp\u00e4 my\u00f6s ison espanjalaisen fregatin, joka\npurjehti verrattoman hyvin sekin ja jonka j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in taitavien\npuusepp\u00e4in avulla sovitimme kantamaan kahdeksankolmatta kanuunaa. Ja\nnyt me tarvitsimme lis\u00e4\u00e4 miehi\u00e4, joten l\u00e4ksimme Camp\u00eache-lahtea kohti,\narvellen saavamme sielt\u00e4 niin paljon v\u00e4ke\u00e4 kuin halusimme; ja siin\u00e4\nolimme oikeassa.\nM\u00f6imme siell\u00e4 purren, jota min\u00e4 olin johtanut. Kapteeni Wilmot piti\noman laivansa ja minusta tuli espanjalaisen fregatin kapteeni,\ntoverini Harris vanhimpana luutnanttinani, ja h\u00e4n olikin niin rohkea\nja yritteli\u00e4s mies kuin miss\u00e4\u00e4n tapaa. Kuunariparkkiin pantiin yksi\npitk\u00e4 tykki, joten meit\u00e4 nyt oli kolme vankkaa, hyvin miehitetty\u00e4\nja kahdeksitoista kuukaudeksi muonitettua laivaa, sill\u00e4 me olimme\nsiepanneet kolme uus-englantilaista ja new-yorkilaista purtta, joilla\noli lastina jauhoja, herneit\u00e4 sek\u00e4 tynn\u00f6reihin s\u00e4ilytetty\u00e4 lihaa ja\nl\u00e4ski\u00e4 Jamaikaan ja Barbadosiin viet\u00e4v\u00e4ksi. Lis\u00e4\u00e4 lihaa saadaksemme\nme menimme maihin Kuban saarella, miss\u00e4 tapoimme niin paljon mustaa\nkarjaa kuin mielemme teki, vaikka meill\u00e4 oli hyvin v\u00e4h\u00e4n suolaa sen\ns\u00e4ilytt\u00e4miseen.\nKaikista t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 sieppaamistamme laivoista, me otimme ruudin ja luodit,\npyssyt ja ly\u00f6ntimiekat; mit\u00e4 miehiin tuli, otimme me aina mukaamme\nhaavurin ja puusep\u00e4n, jollaiset miehet olivat meille alituiseen hyv\u00e4ksi\navuksi. Eiv\u00e4t he aina olleet vastahakoisiakaan tulemaan mukaan, vaikka\nhe omaksi turvakseen, silt\u00e4 varalta ett\u00e4 sattuisi huonosti k\u00e4ym\u00e4\u00e4n,\nmielell\u00e4\u00e4n olivatkin joutuvinansa v\u00e4kisin viedyiksi.\nNiinp\u00e4 joutui joukkoomme er\u00e4s hauska miekkonen, kveekari nimelt\u00e4\nWilliam Walters, jonka otimme purresta, joka oli matkalla\nPennsylvaniasta Barbadosiin. H\u00e4n oli haavuri ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 nimitettiin\ntohtoriksi; mutta laivassa h\u00e4n ei ollut haavurin virassa, vaan oli\nmatkalla Barbadosiin saamaan paikkaa. H\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli kaikki ammattinsa\nkojeet mukanaan ja me panimme h\u00e4net siirtym\u00e4\u00e4n meid\u00e4n laivaamme\nkaikkine kapineinensa. H\u00e4n oli todellakin hupainen veikko, hyvin\nj\u00e4rkev\u00e4 mies ja erinomaisen taitava alallaan; mutta parasta oli se,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli keskusteluissaan aina hyv\u00e4ntuulinen ja miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4, sek\u00e4\nsyd\u00e4melt\u00e4\u00e4n yht\u00e4 miehuullinen ja rohkea kuin kukaan meist\u00e4.\nWilliam ei huomatakseni ollut kovinkaan vastahakoinen tulemaan\nmukaamme, mutta h\u00e4n n\u00e4ytti p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neen tehd\u00e4 sen siten, ett\u00e4 selv\u00e4sti\nilmenisi h\u00e4nen pakonalainen tilansa, ja t\u00e4t\u00e4 varten h\u00e4n pist\u00e4ysi\npuhuttelemaan minua.\n\"Yst\u00e4v\u00e4\", sanoi h\u00e4n, \"sin\u00e4 sanot ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyy l\u00e4hte\u00e4 sinun\nmukanasi, eik\u00e4 minulla ole voimaa vastustaa sinua, jos tahtoisin. Mutta\nhaluaisin, ett\u00e4 toimittaisit laivani kapteenilta omak\u00e4tisen todistuksen\nsiit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 minut vietiin v\u00e4kisin ja vastoin tahtoani.\"\nJa h\u00e4nen t\u00e4t\u00e4 sanoessaan kuvastui h\u00e4nen kasvoillaan niin suurta\ntyytyv\u00e4isyytt\u00e4, ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyi k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ajatuksensa.\n\"Kyll\u00e4, kyll\u00e4\", vakuutin min\u00e4, \"olipa t\u00e4m\u00e4 vastoin tahtoasi tahi ei,\nniin min\u00e4 panen h\u00e4net ja koko miehist\u00f6n antamaan siit\u00e4 todistuksen,\ntahi otan heid\u00e4t kaikki mukaamme ja pid\u00e4n kunnes sen antavat.\"\nKirjotutin itse todistuksen, jossa oli lausuttuna, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4net vei\nmerirosvolaiva v\u00e4kisin vangikseen; ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kirstunsa ja kapineensa\nvietiin ensin, ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4net sitte ty\u00f6nnettiin veneeseen k\u00e4det selj\u00e4n\ntaakse sidottuina. T\u00e4m\u00e4n alle kirjottivat nimens\u00e4 kapteeni ja miehist\u00f6.\nSyd\u00e4nnyin sadattelemaan h\u00e4nt\u00e4, huusin muutamia miehi\u00e4ni sitomaan\nh\u00e4nen k\u00e4tens\u00e4, ja niin laskimme h\u00e4net veneeseemme. Omalle laivalleni\ntultuamme kutsuin h\u00e4net luokseni.\n\"Nyt, yst\u00e4v\u00e4\", sanoin, \"olen tosin tuonut sinut t\u00e4nne v\u00e4kisin, mutta\nen luullakseni niin kovin vastoin tahtoasi kuin entiset kumppanisi\nuskovat. No niin, sinusta koituu meille hy\u00f6dyllinen mies ja hyv\u00e4n saat\nvarmasti kohtelunkin.\"\nP\u00e4\u00e4stin h\u00e4net irti siteist\u00e4\u00e4n, h\u00e4n sai takaisin kaikki tavaransa ja me\nvahvistimme tuttavuutemme yhteisell\u00e4 lasillisella.\n\"Sin\u00e4 olet kohdellut minua yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti\", puheli h\u00e4n, \"ja min\u00e4 tahdon\nolla sinua kohtaan vilpit\u00f6n, tulinpa t\u00e4nne omasta halustani tahi en.\nMin\u00e4 teen sinulle niin paljon hy\u00f6ty\u00e4 kuin osaan, mutta sin\u00e4 tied\u00e4t,\nettei minun asiani ole sekaantua taisteluihin.\"\n\"Ei, ei\", huomautti kapteeni Wilmot, \"mutta silloin voit hiukan\nsekaantua, kun meille tulee rahojen jako!\"\n\"Ne ovat hy\u00f6dyksi haavurin kirstun t\u00e4ydent\u00e4misess\u00e4\", my\u00f6nsi William\nhymyillen, \"mutta min\u00e4 tahdon olla kohtuullinen.\"\nWilliam oli mieluinen kumppani; mutta siin\u00e4 suhteessa oli h\u00e4n\nparemmalla puolella meist\u00e4, ett\u00e4 me varmasti joutuisimme hirteen, jos\nmeid\u00e4t saataisiin kiinni, kun taasen h\u00e4nell\u00e4 ei olisi mit\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4. H\u00e4n\nesiintyy vast'edes hyvinkin paljon t\u00e4ss\u00e4 kertomuksessa.\nPitk\u00e4llinen risteilymme n\u00e4ill\u00e4 vesill\u00e4 alkoi nyt tulla niin hyvin\ntunnetuksi, ettei ainoastaan Englannissa, vaan my\u00f6skin Ranskassa ja\nEspanjassa julkaistiin kertomuksia urot\u00f6ist\u00e4mme, ja paljon juttuja\nkerrottiin siit\u00e4, kuinka me muka kylm\u00e4verisesti murhasimme ihmisi\u00e4,\nsitoen heit\u00e4 kaksittain yhteen selj\u00e4t vastatusten ja paiskaten mereen;\nmutta niist\u00e4 ei puoletkaan ollut totta, vaikka tulikin tehdyksi enemm\u00e4n\nkuin t\u00e4ss\u00e4 sopii mainita.\nT\u00e4st\u00e4 oli kuitenkin seurauksena, ett\u00e4 useampia englantilaisia\nsotalaivoja l\u00e4hetettiin L\u00e4nsi-Intiaan ja m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttiin eritt\u00e4inkin\nristeilem\u00e4\u00e4n Meksikon lahdessa, Floridan salmessa ja Bahaman\nsaaristossa, ahdistaaksensa meit\u00e4, jos mahdollista. Me emme olleet niin\n\u00e4lytt\u00f6mi\u00e4, ettemme olisi t\u00e4t\u00e4 odottaneet n\u00e4in kauvan viivyskelty\u00e4mme\nsamoilla seuduilla. Mutta ensim\u00e4isen varman viestin niist\u00e4 saimme\nHondurasissa, jolloin er\u00e4s Jamaikasta tullut laiva kertoi meille kahden\nenglantilaisen sotalaivan olevan tulossa sinne suoraan Jamaikasta meit\u00e4\netsiskelem\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMe satuimmekin olemaan ep\u00e4suotuisten tuulten sulkemina lahdelmaan,\nemmek\u00e4 olisi kyenneet v\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ponnistelemaan pois, jos ahdistajamme\nolisi k\u00e4ynyt suoraan p\u00e4in. Mutta englantilaiset olivat jostakin\nkuulleet, ett\u00e4 me muka olimme Camp\u00eache-lahdessa, ja he purjehtivat\nsinne, joten me sek\u00e4 v\u00e4ltimme heid\u00e4t ett\u00e4 olimme niin paljon\nyl\u00e4puolella tuulen heist\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t olisi voineet mit\u00e4\u00e4n yritt\u00e4\u00e4\nmeit\u00e4 vastaan, vaikka olisivat olopaikkamme tienneetkin.\nK\u00e4ytimme t\u00e4t\u00e4 etua hyv\u00e4ksemme ja loittonimme Carthagenaan. Sielt\u00e4 me\nty\u00f6l\u00e4\u00e4sti luovailimme melkoisen matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 rannikolta hollantilaisen\nCura\u00e7aon saaren kohdalle asti ja sielt\u00e4 Tobagon saarelle, mik\u00e4 entiseen\ntapaan oli yhtym\u00e4paikkanamme; se oli autio, asumaton saari, joten se\nsamalla soveltui turvapaikaksemme. Siell\u00e4 kuoli kuunariparkin kapteeni,\nja kapteeni Harris, silloinen luutnanttini, otti kuunariparkin\np\u00e4\u00e4llikkyyden.\nMe p\u00e4\u00e4timme l\u00e4hte\u00e4 Brasilian rannikolle ja sielt\u00e4 Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemelle\nsek\u00e4 edelleen It\u00e4-Intiaan. Kapteeni Harris, kuunariparkin p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6n\u00e4,\nv\u00e4itti alustansa liian pieneksi noin pitk\u00e4lle matkalle, mutta pyysi\nkapteeni Wilmotin lupaa saada viel\u00e4 l\u00e4hte\u00e4 omintakeiselle risteilylle,\nseurataksensa meit\u00e4 ensim\u00e4isell\u00e4 laivalla, mink\u00e4 saisi vallatuksi.\nSovimme siis tapaavamme toisemme Madagaskarilla, jota min\u00e4 suosittelin\netenkin ruokavarojen helpon saannin vuoksi.\nOnnettomalla hetkell\u00e4 erosi h\u00e4n meist\u00e4, sill\u00e4 sen sijaan ett\u00e4 olisi\nsaanut siepatuksi laivan meit\u00e4 seuratakseen joutui h\u00e4n, kuten\nj\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in kuulin, englantilaisen sotalaivan vangiksi ja kuoli\nmielenkarvauteen ja suruun ennen kuin ehti Englantiin, miss\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nluutnanttinsa j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in hirtettiin merirosvona. Se oli loppu miehen,\njoka minut t\u00e4h\u00e4n onnettomaan ammattiin toimitti.\nMe l\u00e4ksimme Tobagosta kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in, ohjaten Brasilian\nrannikkoa kohti. Mutta emme olleet vuorokautta enemp\u00e4\u00e4 purjehtineet,\nkun meid\u00e4t erotti toisistamme kamala myrsky, jota herke\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 ja\nhellitt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 kesti kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. T\u00e4ss\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4nteess\u00e4 sattui kapteeni\nWilmot onnettomuudeksi parhaillaan oleskelemaan minun laivallani\nsuureksi mielipahaksensa; sill\u00e4 me emme ainoastaan kadottaneet h\u00e4nen\nlaivaansa n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4mme, vaan emme sittemmink\u00e4\u00e4n n\u00e4hneet sit\u00e4 ennen\nkuin Madagaskarille tultuamme, miss\u00e4 se oli joutunut haaksirikkoon.\nMe menetimme t\u00e4ss\u00e4 myrskyss\u00e4 etumastomme m\u00e4rssy\u00e4 my\u00f6ten ja olimme\npakotetut per\u00e4ytym\u00e4\u00e4n Tobagon saarelle suojaan sek\u00e4 vaurioitamme\nkorjaamaan.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 toimenpide oli v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4 sy\u00f6st\u00e4 meid\u00e4t tuhoon. Olimme tuskin\np\u00e4\u00e4sseet maihin haeskelemaan m\u00e4rssytangoksi kelpaavaa puuta, kun\nn\u00e4imme kolmekymment\u00e4kuusi-kanuunaisen englantilaisen sotalaivan\ntulla viilett\u00e4v\u00e4n rantaa kohti. Se oli meille aika yll\u00e4tys, heikossa\ntilassakin kun olimme; mutta hyv\u00e4ksi onneksemme olimme jokseenkin\nlikell\u00e4 korkeiden kallioiden suojapuolta, eik\u00e4 sotalaiva n\u00e4hnyt meit\u00e4,\nvaan eteni j\u00e4lleen risteilylleen. Me siis vain tarkkasimme, mille\nsuunnalle se meni, ja y\u00f6ll\u00e4 l\u00e4ksimme ty\u00f6mme keskeytt\u00e4en merelle,\nsuunnaten kulkumme p\u00e4invastaiseen suuntaan. Odotuksemme mukaan emme\nsit\u00e4 sitten en\u00e4\u00e4 n\u00e4hneetk\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMeill\u00e4 oli laivassa vanha mesaani-m\u00e4rssytanko, ja sit\u00e4 k\u00e4ytimme\ntoistaiseksi etum\u00e4rssytangon sijaisena. L\u00e4ksimme Trinidadin\nsaarelle ja soudimme muutamia miehi\u00e4mme maihin, vaikka rannalla\nolikin espanjalaisia; he kaatoivat meille kelpo pet\u00e4j\u00e4n uudeksi\nm\u00e4rssytangoksemme, jonka sijoitimme n\u00e4pp\u00e4r\u00e4sti paikoillensa. My\u00f6skin\nsaimme sielt\u00e4 jonkun verran karjaa muonavarojemme jatkoksi, ja sitte\nl\u00e4ksimme Brasilian rannikkoa kohti.\nEnsim\u00e4isen\u00e4 yrityksen\u00e4mme siell\u00e4 oli vain saada raitista vett\u00e4. Mutta\nme kuulimme, ett\u00e4 Kaikkien Pyhimysten lahdessa oli portugalilainen\nlaivasto valmiina purjehtimaan Lissaboniin, odotellen vain suotuisaa\ntuulta. Se sai meid\u00e4t pys\u00e4htym\u00e4\u00e4n, n\u00e4hd\u00e4ksemme heid\u00e4n l\u00e4htev\u00e4n merelle\nja h\u00e4tyytell\u00e4ksemme tai karttaaksemme niit\u00e4 sen mukaan, olisiko niill\u00e4\nsota-aluksia suojanansa tai ei.\nIllalla rupesi l\u00e4nsilounaasta navakasti puhaltamaan, ja kun se oli\nportugalilaiselle laivastolle otollinen tuuli, ja s\u00e4\u00e4 oli miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4\nja kaunis, niin kuulimme l\u00e4ht\u00f6merkkej\u00e4 annettavan. Me luikahdimme er\u00e4\u00e4n\nsaaren k\u00e4tk\u00f6\u00f6n, jiikasimme isonpurjeemme ja fokkapurjeemme, laskimme\nm\u00e4rssyraa'at alemma ja teimme m\u00e4rssypurjeet kiinni, jotta voisimme\nmahdollisimman mukavasti vaania niiden tuloa. Seuraavana aamuna\nn\u00e4immekin koko laivaston saapuvan esille, mutta n\u00e4ky ei meit\u00e4 ollenkaan\nmiellytt\u00e4nyt, sill\u00e4 siin\u00e4 oli kuusikolmatta laivaa, useimmat hyvin\nvarustettuja ja isoja, ja joukossa oli sotalaivoja. Ei siis sopinut\nmeid\u00e4n sekaantua peliin, vaan me pysyimme kauniisti piilossa kunnes\nlaivasto oli poissa n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4, ja purjehdimme sitte ristiin rastiin\njonkun muun saaliin toivossa.\nEnnen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 n\u00e4immekin purjeen ja l\u00e4ksimme heti ajamaan takaa. Mutta\nse oli hyvin nopeakulkuinen ja l\u00e4hti vauhtiinsa luottaen suoraan\naavalle p\u00e4in pakoon. Silti, kun meill\u00e4 ei ollut lastia, l\u00e4henimme sit\u00e4,\nvaikkakin verkalleen, ja jos meill\u00e4 olisi ollut p\u00e4iv\u00e4 edess\u00e4mme, niin\nolisimme sen varmasti saavuttaneet. Mutta v\u00e4hitellen tuli pime\u00e4 ja me\ntiesimme kadottavamme sen n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4mme.\nIloinen kveekarimme, n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n meid\u00e4n viel\u00e4 lis\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4n purjeita\nseurataksemme sit\u00e4 pime\u00e4ss\u00e4, vaikkei sit\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 n\u00e4kynytk\u00e4\u00e4n, tuli hyvin\nkuivakiskoisesti puhuttelemaan minua.\n\"Singleton veikko\", virkahtaa h\u00e4n, \"tied\u00e4tk\u00f6 mit\u00e4 olemme tekem\u00e4ss\u00e4?\"\nMin\u00e4 vastaan: \"Tokihan min\u00e4 sen tied\u00e4n; olemmehan ajamassa laivaa\ntakaa?\"\n\"Ja kuinka sin\u00e4 sen tied\u00e4t?\" kysyy h\u00e4n, edelleenkin hyvin totisena.\n\"Ei, se on totta\", my\u00f6nn\u00e4n min\u00e4; \"me emme varmasti tunne tolaamme.\"\n\"Niin, yst\u00e4v\u00e4\", puhelee h\u00e4n, \"luullakseni voimme olla varmat siit\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 me et\u00e4\u00e4nnymme siit\u00e4 emmek\u00e4 aja sit\u00e4 takaa. Pelk\u00e4\u00e4np\u00e4 sinun\nk\u00e4\u00e4ntyneen kveekariksi ja p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neen olla v\u00e4kivaltaista k\u00e4tt\u00e4\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4, tahi sitten olevan pelkurin ja pakenevan vihollistasi.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 tarkotat?\" \u00e4rj\u00e4isin min\u00e4 (ja taisin kirotakin). \"Mit\u00e4 nyt\nirvistelet? Sinulla on aina jokin kuiva kompa meist\u00e4 hampaissasi.\"\n\"Ei\", haastaa h\u00e4n, \"on hyvin selv\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 laiva l\u00e4ksi aavalle suoraan\nit\u00e4\u00e4 kohti vasiten h\u00e4ivytt\u00e4\u00e4kseen meid\u00e4t j\u00e4ljilt\u00e4, ja voit olla varma\nsiit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 sen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4paikka ei ole sill\u00e4 suunnalla; sill\u00e4 mit\u00e4 tekisi\nse Afrikan rannoilla t\u00e4ll\u00e4 leveysasteella? Mutta oitis pime\u00e4n piiloon\np\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ns\u00e4 se k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4 tuuleen ja luovii takaisin Brasilian rannikolle,\nsiihen lahteen, jonne tied\u00e4t sen ensin olleen menossa; ja emmek\u00f6 siis\nole et\u00e4\u00e4ntym\u00e4ss\u00e4 siit\u00e4? Minulla on hyv\u00e4t toiveet siit\u00e4, yst\u00e4v\u00e4\",\nlaskettelee h\u00e4n kuivaa leikki\u00e4ns\u00e4, \"ett\u00e4 sinusta tulee kveekari, sill\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 n\u00e4en, ettei sinun tee mieli tapella.\"\n\"Varsin hyvin, William\", vakuutan min\u00e4; \"minusta tulee oiva merirosvo.\"\nMutta William oli oikeassa ja min\u00e4 k\u00e4sitin heti h\u00e4nen tarkotuksensa.\nKapteeni Wilmot, joka makasi heikkona sairaana kajuutissa, kuuli meid\u00e4n\npuhelumme ja huusi minulle, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n oli paras muuttaa suuntamme ja\npyrki\u00e4 lahteen, miss\u00e4 jokseenkin varmasti saisimme riistamme siepatuksi\naamulla.\nMe k\u00e4\u00e4nsimme ja l\u00e4ksimme alihankatuulella, prampurjeet lis\u00e4tty\u00e4mme,\npyrkim\u00e4\u00e4n Kaikkien Pyhimysten lahteen. Ankkuroitsimme sinne aamulla\nvarahin, juuri linnotusten tykkien kantaman ulkopuolelle. Me jiikasimme\npurjeet, voidaksemme taas l\u00e4hte\u00e4 liikkeelle tarvitsemattamme kavuta\nmastoihin niit\u00e4 irrottamaan, ja laskimme isonmaston ja etumaston raa'at\nalemma. Laivamme n\u00e4ytti kuin olisimme olleet paikoillamme jo pitk\u00e4n\naikaa.\nKaksi tuntia j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in n\u00e4imme ajettavamme l\u00e4henev\u00e4n lahtea t\u00e4ysin\npurjein ja se saapui suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 suden suuhun, sill\u00e4 me pysyimme\nalallamme kunnes se oli melkein tykinkantaman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4, jolloin \u00e4kki\u00e4\nnostimme raakapuumme asemilleen ja irrotimme purjeet, sovitimme ne\nkuntoon ja p\u00e4\u00e4stimme kaapelimme irti, sy\u00f6sten tulijan kimppuun ennen\nkuin se enn\u00e4tti k\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. Yll\u00e4tettyin\u00e4 eiv\u00e4t lie suurestikaan\nyritt\u00e4neet vastarintaa, vaan antausivat ensim\u00e4isen laidallisen\nlaukaistuamme.\nNeuvottelimme parast'aikaa mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4 sille, kun William tuli luokseni.\n\"Kuulehan, yst\u00e4v\u00e4\", puheli h\u00e4n, \"oletpa tehnyt kauniisti, lainatessasi\nnaapurisi laivan t\u00e4ss\u00e4 ihan naapurisi ovella, h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 lupaa kysym\u00e4tt\u00e4!\nEtk\u00f6 ajattele, ett\u00e4 satamassa on joitakuita sotalaivoja? Olet antanut\nheille riitt\u00e4v\u00e4n h\u00e4lyytyksen; sin\u00e4 saat heid\u00e4t niskaasi ennen y\u00f6t\u00e4,\nusko pois, kysym\u00e4\u00e4n sinulta miksi niin teit.\"\n\"Tosiaankin, William\", vastasin, \"se saattaa olla totta; mit\u00e4 siis\nensiksikin tekisimme?\"\n\"Sinulla on vain kaksi valittavaa\", arveli h\u00e4n: \"joko k\u00e4yd\u00e4 p\u00e4in ja\nvallata muutkin, tai l\u00e4hte\u00e4 tiehesi ennen kuin ne tulevat sieppaamaan\nsinut. Min\u00e4 n\u00e4en niiden nostavan m\u00e4rssytankoa tuolla isolla laivalla,\nviipym\u00e4tt\u00e4 l\u00e4hte\u00e4ksens\u00e4 merelle; ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 ne saapuvat puhuttelemaan\nsinua, ja mit\u00e4 heille sanot, kun lie kysyv\u00e4t sinulta, miksi luvatta\nlainasit heid\u00e4n laivansa?\"\nNiin oli asian laita, kuin William sanoi. Kaukoputkillamme saatoimme\nn\u00e4hd\u00e4 heid\u00e4n kaikkien hy\u00f6riv\u00e4n muutamien pursien ja ison sotalaivan\nmiehitt\u00e4misess\u00e4 ja varustamisessa. Oli selv\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he olisivat piankin\nkimpussamme. Mutta me emme olleet ep\u00e4tietoisia menettelyst\u00e4mme.\nHuomasimme ettei valtaamassamme laivassa ollut lastina paljoakaan\nmeid\u00e4n tarkotuksiimme kelpaavaa, paitsi hiukan kaakaota, sokeria ja\njauhoja; muuna lastina oli vuotia. Siirsimme sen vuoksi laivaamme mit\u00e4\ntarpeelliseksi n\u00e4imme, muun muassa kaikki ampumavarat, tykinluodit\nja pyssyt, sitte laskien sen menem\u00e4\u00e4n. My\u00f6skin otimme siit\u00e4 kaapelin\nja sen kolme ankkuria, jotka olivat meille hyv\u00e4\u00e4n tarpeeseen, sek\u00e4\njoitakuita purjeita. Se sai pit\u00e4\u00e4 juuri tarpeeksi, p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4kseen\nsatamaan, ja siin\u00e4 kaikki.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n tehty\u00e4mme me purjehdimme pitkin Brasilian rannikkoa etel\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in,\nkunnes saavuimme Janeiro-virran suulle. Mutta kun tuuli k\u00e4vi kahden\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n ajan navakasti lounaasta ja etel\u00e4lounaasta, olimme me pakotetut\nankkuroimaan er\u00e4\u00e4n pienen saaren suojaan, odotellaksemme suotuisampaa\ns\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4. Sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin olivat portugalilaiset n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti ilmottaneet maitse\nsik\u00e4l\u00e4iselle kuvern\u00f6\u00f6rille, ett\u00e4 rannikolla risteilee merirosvo. Kun\nsiis saavuimme sataman n\u00e4kyviin, n\u00e4imme kahden sotalaivan vaanivan\njuuri aallonmurtajan ulkopuolella; kiireimmiten varustausivat ne\nk\u00e4ym\u00e4\u00e4n kimppuumme. Toinen ei ollut niin nopea p\u00e4\u00e4sem\u00e4\u00e4n kuntoon,\nmutta vajaan tunnin kuluttua olivat ne jo kumpainenkin kaikin purjein\nt\u00e4ydess\u00e4 takaa-ajossa.\nEllei y\u00f6 olisi enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt v\u00e4liin, niin olisivat Williamin sanat\ntoteutuneet. Ne olisivat varmasti kysyneet meilt\u00e4, mit\u00e4 tekemist\u00e4\nmeill\u00e4 oli siell\u00e4, sill\u00e4 etumainen laiva l\u00e4heni meit\u00e4, pyrkiess\u00e4mme\nparhaamme mukaan tuuleen p\u00e4in pakoon. Mutta kun pime\u00e4ss\u00e4 kadotimme\nheid\u00e4t n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4mme, p\u00e4\u00e4timme muuttaa suuntaamme ja oikaista suoraan\naavalle, luottaen siihen, ett\u00e4 ne y\u00f6n kuluttua eiv\u00e4t en\u00e4\u00e4 pystyisi\nmeit\u00e4 l\u00f6yt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n.\nEn tied\u00e4, arvasiko portugalilainen p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6 aikeemme, mutta p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\nvaljetessa n\u00e4imme laivan olevan noin meripenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 takanamme.\nSuureksi onneksemme oli toinen laivoista eksynyt j\u00e4ljilt\u00e4mme.\nH\u00e4tyytt\u00e4j\u00e4mme oli kuitenkin iso laiva, nelj\u00e4ll\u00e4kymmenell\u00e4kuudella\nkanuunalla varustettu, ja sen oivallinen purjehtiminen oli vaaraksi\nmeille sekin; siten se l\u00e4henikin meit\u00e4 taas.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n n\u00e4hty\u00e4ni \u00e4lysin heti, ettei mik\u00e4\u00e4n s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4isi meit\u00e4 taistelemasta.\nTiet\u00e4en ettemme voisi odottaa mit\u00e4\u00e4n s\u00e4\u00e4li\u00e4 noilta portugalilaisilta\nkonnilta, joiden kansallisuutta kohtaan olen alun pit\u00e4en ollut karsas,\nilmotin kapteeni Wilmotille asian laidan. Sairaanakin hyp\u00e4hti kapteeni\nvuoteeltaan ja k\u00e4ski taluttamaan itsens\u00e4 kannelle katsomaan asiaa.\n\"Hyv\u00e4\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"me k\u00e4ymme taisteluun!\"\nMiehemme olivat kaikki olleet reippaalla mielell\u00e4 jo ennenkin, mutta\njo kymmenkunta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 polttokuumetta poteneen p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6ns\u00e4 n\u00e4keminen\nnoin virke\u00e4n\u00e4 lis\u00e4si heille kaksin verroin miehuutta, ja he ryhtyiv\u00e4t\ninnolla valmistelemaan ottelua. Kveekari William astui hiukan myh\u00e4illen\nluokseni.\n\"Yst\u00e4v\u00e4\", sanoo h\u00e4n, \"mit\u00e4 varten tuo laiva seuraa meit\u00e4?\"\n\"No\", vastaan min\u00e4, \"tapellaksensa tietenkin.\"\n\"Vai niin\", tuumii h\u00e4n, \"ja luuletko sen saavuttavan meid\u00e4t?\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4, sen piankin n\u00e4et.\"\n\"No, veikkonen\", puhelee tuo kuivakiskoinen saivartelija, \"miksi siis\nviel\u00e4kin edennyt, kun n\u00e4et sen saavuttavan sinut? Onko meid\u00e4n parempi\ntavata se edemp\u00e4n\u00e4 kuin t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4?\"\n\"Samanpa tuo lienee tekev\u00e4\u00e4\", vastaan; \"mutta mit\u00e4p\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 muutakaan?\"\n\"Mutta turhaahan on tuottaa niille poloisille tarpeetonta vaivaa\",\nhuomauttaa h\u00e4n; \"pys\u00e4htyk\u00e4\u00e4mme kuulemaan, mit\u00e4 niill\u00e4 on meille\nsanottavana.\"\n\"Ne aikovat puhua ruudilla ja kuulilla\", virkan min\u00e4.\n\"Niink\u00f6 vain?\" puhelee h\u00e4n. \"No, jos se on heid\u00e4n maansa kieli, niin\nmeid\u00e4n kai t\u00e4ytyy puhua heille samaa, tai muutoinhan he eiv\u00e4t meit\u00e4\nymm\u00e4rr\u00e4?\"\n\"Aivan oikein, William\", vahvistan min\u00e4, \"me ymm\u00e4rr\u00e4mme tarkotuksesi.\"\nJa kapteeni huusi minulle:\n\"William on j\u00e4lleenkin oikeassa; yht\u00e4 hyvin t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 kuin meripenikulmaa\nedemp\u00e4n\u00e4.\" H\u00e4n antoi k\u00e4skyn: \"Jiikatkaa isopurje; me v\u00e4henn\u00e4mme\npurjeita.\"\nKun odotimme tulijaa tuulen alapuolelta, siirsimme kahdeksantoista\nkanuunaa paapuurin laidalle, p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en antaa sille sellaisen\nyhteislaukauksen, ett\u00e4 siit\u00e4 tuntuisi l\u00e4mpim\u00e4lt\u00e4. Kesti puolisen\ntuntia, ennen kuin se ehti likelle, joll'aikaa me pysyttelimme liki\ntuulta, joten sen oli pakko j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 tuulen alapuolella; saadessamme sen\nper\u00e4hankamme kohdalle me \u00e4kki\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4nsimme sille kylkemme ja laukaisimme\nsiihen laidallisemme, lakaisten sen kantta keulasta per\u00e4\u00e4n asti ja\nkaataen suuren joukon v\u00e4ke\u00e4. Portugalilaiset joutuivat h\u00e4mmennyksiin,\nniiden laiva oli vauhdissa ja tunki kokkapuunsa isonmastomme vanttien\netuosaan, niin ett\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t voineet kunnolleen p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 meist\u00e4 eroon.\nSiten olimme toisissamme kiinni; vihollinen ei saanut enemp\u00e4\u00e4 kuin\nviisi tai kuusi kanuunaa t\u00e4hd\u00e4tyksi meihin, paitsi pyssyj\u00e4ns\u00e4, kun\ntaasen kaikki meid\u00e4n sill\u00e4 laidalla olevat tykkimme saivat tehotuksi\nsiihen.\nKeskell\u00e4 taistelun tulisinta tuoksinaa, voimieni takaa h\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4tess\u00e4ni\nkomentosillalla, huusi minulle kapteeni, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei ollut\nhetkeksik\u00e4\u00e4n poistunut joukostamme:\n\"Mit\u00e4 lempoa yst\u00e4v\u00e4mme William tuolla tekee? Onko h\u00e4nell\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n asiaa\nkannella?\"\nMin\u00e4 astuin keulaan p\u00e4in, ja siell\u00e4 yst\u00e4v\u00e4mme William parin kolmen\nreippaan miehen kanssa siteli laivan kokkapuuta meid\u00e4n isoonmastoomme\nkiinni, jotta vihollinen ei p\u00e4\u00e4sisi k\u00e4sist\u00e4mme; ja tuon tuostakin h\u00e4n\nkiskaisi taskustaan pullon ja antoi miehille rohkaisuryyppyj\u00e4. Luodit\nsatelivat h\u00e4nen ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n tuiki tihe\u00e4ss\u00e4, sill\u00e4 portugalilaiset --\nse tunnustus minun t\u00e4ytyy heille antaa -- taistelivat hyvin riuskasti,\nensim\u00e4lt\u00e4 uskoen olevansa varmat saaliistansa ja luottaen ylivoimaansa.\nMutta siin\u00e4 hy\u00f6ri William yht\u00e4 tyynen\u00e4 ja vaarasta v\u00e4linpit\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4n\u00e4\nkuin olisi istunut punssimaljan \u00e4\u00e4ress\u00e4, kovin toimekkaasti pit\u00e4en\nvain huolta siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 nelj\u00e4nkymmenenkuuden kanuunan laiva ei p\u00e4\u00e4sisi\npakenemaan kahdenkymmenenkahdeksan kanuunan laivaa.\nOttelu oli liian tuima kest\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n kauvan. Miehemme k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t\nurheasti; uljas tykkimies j\u00e4rjesteli niin ripe\u00e4n pommituksen, ett\u00e4\nportugalilaisten ammunta alkoi heiket\u00e4. Useita heid\u00e4n kanuuniansa\nolimme saaneet siirtym\u00e4\u00e4n laveteiltansa, ampumalla heid\u00e4n\nkeulakatokseensa. Pian tuli William luokseni.\n\"Yst\u00e4v\u00e4\", sanoi h\u00e4n hyvin kylm\u00e4verisesti, \"mit\u00e4 tarkotat? Miksi et\nk\u00e4v\u00e4ise naapurisi luona laivassa, kun ovi on sinulle avoinna?\"\nYmm\u00e4rsin h\u00e4net oitis, sill\u00e4 kanuunamme olivat niin repineet vihollisen\nrunkoa, ett\u00e4 kahdesta tykin-aukosta oli tullut yksi, ja heid\u00e4n\nper\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 v\u00e4lisein\u00e4 oli silpoutunut s\u00e4p\u00e4leiksi, niin ett\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t\nvoineet vet\u00e4yty\u00e4 vankempaan suojaan. Annoin sen vuoksi k\u00e4skyn hy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4\nlaivaan. Toinen luutnanttimme rynt\u00e4si heti kolmisenkymmenen miehen\nsaattamana keulakannen yli, ja h\u00e4nen per\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n johti puosmanni toista\njoukkoa. Ly\u00f6den maahan noin kaksikymment\u00e4viisi miest\u00e4, jotka olivat\nvastassa kannella, ja heitt\u00e4en sitte per\u00e4p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n muutamia granaatteja,\nhe tunkeusivat sinnekin. Portugalilaiset pyysiv\u00e4t piankin armoa, ja\nme valtasimme laivan, todella vastoin omia odotuksiammekin. Sill\u00e4 me\nolisimme tehneet niiden kanssa sovinnon, jos he olisivat ensim\u00e4isen\nvastoink\u00e4ymisen j\u00e4lkeen p\u00e4\u00e4sseet erilleen meist\u00e4 ja kyenneet\nk\u00e4yttelem\u00e4\u00e4n useampia kanuunia, ennen kuin meid\u00e4n tuhoisa tulemme oli\nniiden miehist\u00f6\u00e4 v\u00e4hent\u00e4nyt.\nRiemu siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kuuli portugalilaisten huutavan armoa ja n\u00e4ki\nniiden sotalipun laskeutuvan alas, sai kapteenimme \u00e4kki\u00e4 elpym\u00e4\u00e4n\nankaran kuumeen tuottamasta heikkoudesta. Jo parin kolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\nkuluttua h\u00e4n oli huomattavasti paremmissa voimissa ja ohjaili\npiankin toimiamme ihan t\u00e4sm\u00e4llisesti. Sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin min\u00e4 otin haltuuni\nportugalilaisen sotalaivan, sen kapteenina. Noin kolmekymment\u00e4 miest\u00e4\nsen v\u00e4est\u00f6st\u00e4 siirtyi meid\u00e4n palvelukseemme; niiden joukossa oli\njoitakuita ranskalaisia ja genualaisia. Loput laskimme seuraavana\naamuna maihin er\u00e4\u00e4lle pienelle saarelle Brasilian rannikolla, paitsi\nmuutamia niin pahasti haavottuneita, ett\u00e4 heit\u00e4 ei voinut siirt\u00e4\u00e4;\nviimeksimainitut me sittemmin heid\u00e4n omasta pyynn\u00f6st\u00e4\u00e4n veimme maihin\nHyv\u00e4ntoivonniemell\u00e4.\nKAHDEKSAS LUKU.\nOrjalaiva tuuliajolla.\nPitkin rannikkoa purjehdimme nyt etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti la Plata-joen suulle,\nodottaen jotakin saalista siell\u00e4 sattuvaksi eteemme. Etenkin\nvaaniskelimme Buenos Airesista tulevia espanjalaisia laivoja, joilla\non tavallisesti runsas hopealasti, ja yksikin sellainen kaappaus olisi\nmeit\u00e4 tyydytt\u00e4nyt pitkiksi ajoiksi. Risteilimme edes takaisin kuukauden\najan, mutta mit\u00e4\u00e4n ei ilmaantunut, joten meid\u00e4n oli pakko tuumailla,\nmihin nyt ensi hommiksemme ryhtyisimme.\nMinun suunnitelmanani oli aina ollut l\u00e4hte\u00e4 Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemelle ja\nsielt\u00e4 It\u00e4-Intiaan. Olin kuullut innostuttavia juttuja kapteeni\nAverysta ja h\u00e4nen Intian vesill\u00e4 tekemist\u00e4ns\u00e4 loistavista urot\u00f6ist\u00e4,\njoita liioiteltiin tuhansin verroin; siten h\u00e4nen Bengalin lahdessa\nvaltaamastansa rikkaasta laivasta, jossa h\u00e4nen vangikseen joutui\nSuur-Mogulin tytt\u00e4reksi sanottu nainen ylellisille jalokivineen,\nkerrottiin meille siin\u00e4 muodossa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli siepannut Mogulin\nlaivan, jolla oli lastina pelkki\u00e4 timantteja.\nOlisin kovin mielell\u00e4ni kuullut yst\u00e4v\u00e4 Williamin mielipidett\u00e4 siit\u00e4,\nminne olisi sopivinta pyrki\u00e4, mutta h\u00e4n aina jollakin kokkapuheella\nkiersi asian. En tied\u00e4, kielsik\u00f6 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 omatunto vaikuttamasta\nvastaisiin vaiheisiimme vai pelk\u00e4ilik\u00f6 h\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen osallisuutensa\nneuvotteluun saattaisi j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in esiinty\u00e4 todistuksena h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan;\nainakin t\u00e4ytyi meid\u00e4n lopulta tehd\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6ksemme ilman h\u00e4nt\u00e4.\nMutta tuumiskeluamme kesti melkoisen kauvan. Vihdoin n\u00e4imme tuulen\nyl\u00e4puolella laivan, jollaista emme olleet viel\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4mme tavanneet.\nSe ei kaivannut takaa-ajoa, vaan tulla viiletti suoraan meit\u00e4\nkohti sik\u00e4li kuin sen per\u00e4simess\u00e4 olijat saivat sit\u00e4 kurssillaan\npysytellyksi; ja sekin oli enemm\u00e4n s\u00e4\u00e4n ansiota, sill\u00e4 jos tuuli olisi\npy\u00f6r\u00e4hdellyt minne tahansa, niin olisi se reutonut heit\u00e4 mukanaan.\nJ\u00e4t\u00e4n jokaisen merimiehen tai laivaoloja tuntevan kuviteltavaksi,\nmillaiselta t\u00e4m\u00e4 laiva n\u00e4ytti ensi n\u00e4kem\u00e4lt\u00e4 ja mit\u00e4 me saatoimme sen\noloista arvella. Isonmaston m\u00e4rssytanko oli katkennut noin kuuden\njalan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 eeselist\u00e4 ja kaatunut keulaan p\u00e4in; prammitangon latva\nriippui siten fokkavanteissa. Samaan aikaan oli mesaanim\u00e4rssyraa'an\nraksi jonkin tapaturman kautta pett\u00e4nyt, joten mesaanim\u00e4rssyprassit --\njoiden kiintonainen osa liittyy isonmaston m\u00e4rssyvantteihin -- olivat\nnyk\u00e4isseet mesaanim\u00e4rssypurjeen raakapuillensa ja kaikkinensa alas,\nniin ett\u00e4 se nyt levisi komentosillan poikitse kuin aurinkoteltti.\nFokkam\u00e4rssypurje oli vedetty kahdeksi kolmannekseksi yl\u00f6s mastoon,\nmutta jalusnuorat lepattivat irrallaan; fokkaraaka oli laskettu alas\nkeulakannelle, fokkapurje oli irrallaan ja sen lieve riippui laidan\nyli. T\u00e4m\u00e4n n\u00e4k\u00f6isen\u00e4 se painautui meit\u00e4 kohti, kerrassaan \u00e4llistytt\u00e4en\nmeid\u00e4t sekamelskallaan. Sill\u00e4 ei ollut veneit\u00e4 eik\u00e4 se my\u00f6sk\u00e4\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt mink\u00e4\u00e4n maan lippua.\nL\u00e4hetess\u00e4mme laukaisimme kanuunan saadaksemme sen kiert\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n tuuleen.\nSe ei ollut mill\u00e4ns\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n siit\u00e4 eik\u00e4 meist\u00e4, vaan tulla tohotti\neteenp\u00e4in kuten ennenkin. Me laukaisimme uudestaan, mutta siit\u00e4 ei\nollut apua. Viimein me tulimme pistoolin kantaman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n toisistamme,\nmutta ket\u00e4\u00e4n ei ilmestynyt n\u00e4kyviin eik\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n vastausta kuulunut;\naloimme sen vuoksi ajatella, ett\u00e4 laiva oli jossakin haaksirikkoutunut\nja ajelehti nyt miehist\u00f6ns\u00e4 hylk\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4ll\u00e4. Mutta kun asetuimme ihan sen\nviereen, kuulimme laivan sis\u00e4lt\u00e4 melua ja n\u00e4imme sen laita-aukoissa\nihmisi\u00e4 vilahtelevan.\nT\u00e4ll\u00f6in miehitimme kaksi venett\u00e4 ja aseestimme niiden miehist\u00f6n hyvin,\nk\u00e4skien heit\u00e4 hy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n laivaan niin samalla hetkell\u00e4 kuin osasivat\nsovittaa; toisen veneellisen piti rynn\u00e4t\u00e4 ankkurikettingin kohdalta\ntoiselta sivulta ja toisen taasen keskikohdalta toiselta sivulta. Mutta\nheid\u00e4n laskiessaan laivan kylkeen ilmestyi kannelle niin h\u00e4mm\u00e4stytt\u00e4v\u00e4\npaljous mustia merimiehi\u00e4, ett\u00e4 se vene, jonka piti hy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4\nkeskikohdalta, per\u00e4ytyi pelon vallassa. Toisen veneen v\u00e4ki kyll\u00e4 kapusi\nlaivaan, mutta luuli toisen veneellisen tulleen sy\u00f6styksi takaisin ja\nn\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n laivan t\u00e4p\u00f6sen t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 miehi\u00e4 he kiireen kautta hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t\nkaikki takaisin veneeseens\u00e4 ja soutivat laivallemme.\nNyt valmistausimme laukaisemaan siihen laidallisen, mutta yst\u00e4v\u00e4mme\nWilliam opasti meid\u00e4t oikeaan. H\u00e4n n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti oivalsi asian oikean\nlaadun aikaisemmin kuin me ja asteli luokseni, sill\u00e4 minun laivani se\nensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 kohtasi tuon oudon tulokkaan.\n\"Yst\u00e4v\u00e4\", sanoi h\u00e4n, \"luulen sinun olevan nyt v\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja miehesikin\novat erehtyneet k\u00e4yt\u00f6ksess\u00e4\u00e4n. Tuon laivan sin\u00e4 saat haltuusi ilman\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n kanuunoihisi turvautumista. Sin\u00e4 n\u00e4et, ett\u00e4 laiva ei tottele\nper\u00e4sint\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja ett\u00e4 se on kurjassa tilassa. Laskeudu sen kylkeen\nkiinni ja v\u00e4kesi astukoon siihen suoraan laivasta. Olen varma siit\u00e4,\nettei mit\u00e4\u00e4n kahakkaa synny, sill\u00e4 noita on kohdannut joku meille\ntietym\u00e4t\u00f6n onnettomuus.\"\nMeri oli tasainen ja tuuli heikko; min\u00e4 noudatin h\u00e4nen neuvoansa\nja laskin laivaan kiinni. Miehemme tunkivat heti siihen, ja siell\u00e4\noli l\u00e4hemm\u00e4 kuusisataa neekeri\u00e4, miehi\u00e4, naisia ja lapsia, mutta\nvalkoihoisia ei ainoatakaan.\nN\u00e4ky kauhistutti minua, sill\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ttelin heti, ett\u00e4 nuo mustat\npaholaiset olivat p\u00e4\u00e4sseet irralleen, murhanneet kaikki valkoihoiset\nja heitt\u00e4neet mereen ruumiit; ja kun ilmaisin arveluni miehille,\nraivostutti heit\u00e4 moinen ajatus niin, ett\u00e4 minun oli ty\u00f6l\u00e4s est\u00e4\u00e4\nmiehi\u00e4ni hakkaamasta heit\u00e4 kaikkia kappaleiksi. Mutta William pani\nkaiken kaunopuheliaisuutensa heid\u00e4n tyynnytt\u00e4misekseen, huomauttaen\nett\u00e4 he itse olisivat neekerien sijassa tehneet samaten, jos olisi\ntilaisuutta ollut; neekereilleh\u00e4n todella tehtiin mit\u00e4 verisint\u00e4\nv\u00e4\u00e4ryytt\u00e4, kun heit\u00e4 v\u00e4kisin myytiin orjiksi, ja heid\u00e4n surmaamisensa\nolisi tahallista murhaa.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 tehosi heihin ja j\u00e4\u00e4hdytti heid\u00e4n ensi tulistumistansa;\nhe kaatoivat vain pari-, kolmekymment\u00e4 ja muut karkasivat alas\nv\u00e4likannelle entisille paikoilleen, varmaankin luullen saaneensa\nentiset herransa takaisin.\nMeill\u00e4 oli ensim\u00e4inen per\u00e4ti paha pulma siin\u00e4, ett\u00e4 me emme voineet\nsaada ainoatakaan sanaa ymm\u00e4rretyksi kesken\u00e4mme. Yritimme merkeill\u00e4\nkysy\u00e4 heilt\u00e4, mist\u00e4 he olivat tulleet, mutta sit\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t tajunneet.\nMe viittasimme kajuuttiin, per\u00e4sinhyttiin, kokin kojuun ja sitten omiin\nkasvoihimme, kysy\u00e4ksemme eik\u00f6 laivassa ollut valkoihoisia ja minne\nn\u00e4m\u00e4 olivat joutuneet; mutta he eiv\u00e4t \u00e4lynneet tarkotustamme. Toiselta\npuolen he osottelivat alustamme ja omaa laivaansa, tehden kysymyksi\u00e4\nparhaansa mukaan, puhellen tuhansia asioita ja uutterasti toistellen\nkaikkea; mutta me emme ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4neet rahtuakaan heid\u00e4n sanoistaan ja\neleist\u00e4\u00e4n.\nTiesimme hyvin, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4t oli otettu laivaan orjina ja ett\u00e4 miehist\u00f6n\noli t\u00e4ytynyt olla europalaisia. Laiva oli rakenteeltaan hollantilainen,\nmutta suuresti korjailtu, n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti Ranskassa, sill\u00e4 me l\u00f6ysimme\npari kolme ranskalaista kirjaa. J\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in l\u00f6ysimme vaatteita,\nvanhoja kenki\u00e4, muutamia tynnyrillisi\u00e4 irlantilaista suolalihaa ja\nnewfoundlandilaista kalaa sek\u00e4 muita merkkej\u00e4 siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 laivassa oli\nollut europalaisia. Miekkoja, pyssyj\u00e4, pistooleja taikka mink\u00e4\u00e4nlaisia\nmuitakaan aseita emme l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet, paitsi joitakuita pertuskia, jotka\nneekerit olivat piilottaneet v\u00e4likannelle. Me kysyimme heilt\u00e4, minne\nkaikki aseet olivat joutuneet, viitaten omiin aseisiimme ja niihin\npaikkoihin, miss\u00e4 laivan aseet olivat riippuneet. Muuan neekeri oivalsi\ntiedustuksemme ja ilmaisi eleill\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 he olivat heitt\u00e4neet kaikki\naseet mereen, kaiketikin pit\u00e4en niit\u00e4 vaarallisina viel\u00e4 sittekin kun\nniiden k\u00e4ytt\u00e4jist\u00e4 oli tehty loppu.\nMiehist\u00f6lle oli tietenkin k\u00e4ynyt samaten kuin aseillekin; heid\u00e4t\noli paiskattu m\u00e4rk\u00e4\u00e4n hautaan. Per\u00e4sinkojussa oli selv\u00e4sti j\u00e4ljist\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en vuotanut paljon verta, muualla laivassa olivat tapahtuneen\nmurhen\u00e4ytelm\u00e4n todistukset melkein h\u00e4ipyneet. Mutta parhaiten antoi\nmeille k\u00e4sityst\u00e4 tapahtuneesta se seikka, ett\u00e4 neekereist\u00e4 oli\nseitsem\u00e4n tai kahdeksan hyvin pahasti haavotettua, kaksi tai kolme\nmusketeilla. Yhdelt\u00e4 oli s\u00e4\u00e4ri poikki ja h\u00e4n virui viheli\u00e4isess\u00e4\ntilassa, sill\u00e4 lihaan oli tullut kuolemanvihat ja h\u00e4n olisi heitt\u00e4nyt\nhenkens\u00e4 parin p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua, kuten William yst\u00e4v\u00e4mme sanoi.\nWilliam oli hyvin taitava haaval\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4ri, ja h\u00e4n osotti sen t\u00e4ss\u00e4\ntapauksessa. Meill\u00e4 oli molemmissa laivoissamme yhteens\u00e4 viisi itse\u00e4ns\u00e4\nkouluuntuneiksi haavureiksi sanovaa, sek\u00e4 pari kolme apuria, ja n\u00e4m\u00e4\nkaikki lausuivat mielipiteen\u00e4\u00e4n, ettei neekerin henke\u00e4 voitaisi\npelastaa sahaamatta h\u00e4nen s\u00e4\u00e4rt\u00e4ns\u00e4 poikki. M\u00e4d\u00e4nnys oli muka jo\nulottunut s\u00e4\u00e4riluun ytimeen ja j\u00e4nteet kuoleutuneet, joten h\u00e4n ei\nparantuneenakaan voisi k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 jalkaansa. William vain lyhyesti sanoi\nolevansa toista mielt\u00e4 ja tutkivansa haavaa tarkoin, ennen kuin\nlausuisi siit\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n varmaa. H\u00e4n sai kaksi haavuria avukseen ja ryhtyi\nty\u00f6h\u00f6n omalla tavallaan. Leikellen pilaantunutta lihaa h\u00e4n paljasti\njokaisen suonen erikseen ja sai jo ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 niin paljon\naikaan, ett\u00e4 mies poloinen ilmeisesti tunsi suurta helpotusta.\nToiset haavurit olivat pitkin aikaa olleet n\u00e4kevin\u00e4\u00e4n yht\u00e4 ja toista\nvikaa h\u00e4nen menettelyss\u00e4\u00e4n, ja seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 he jo riemuitsivat\netev\u00e4mmyydest\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 m\u00e4d\u00e4nnys n\u00e4ytti j\u00e4lleen levi\u00e4v\u00e4n. Mutta William\nvalmisti potilaalle jotakin puhdistavaa l\u00e4\u00e4kett\u00e4 ja ryhtyi j\u00e4lleen\nleikkelemisiins\u00e4. Totisesti h\u00e4n lopultakin p\u00e4\u00e4si taudista voitolle,\nja kymmenen viikon kuluttua oli mies aivan terve; me pidimme h\u00e4net\nluonamme ja teimme h\u00e4nest\u00e4 oivallisen merimiehen. H\u00e4nelt\u00e4 me sittemmin\nsaimmekin kuulla verin\u00e4ytelm\u00e4n yksityiskohdat, h\u00e4nen opittuansa\nkielt\u00e4mme.\nEmme koskaan saaneet tiet\u00e4\u00e4, miss\u00e4 heid\u00e4t oli otettu laivaan, sill\u00e4\neih\u00e4n neekeri voinut tiet\u00e4\u00e4 meid\u00e4n k\u00e4ytt\u00e4mi\u00e4mme englantilaisia\nnimi\u00e4. Valkoihoiset olivat kohdelleet heit\u00e4 mit\u00e4 raakamaisimmin;\nheit\u00e4 oli yht\u00e4mittaa piesty armottomasti. Er\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 neekerill\u00e4 oli\nvaimo ja kuudentoista vanha tyt\u00e4r. Muuan valkoihoinen piteli pahoin\nvaimoa ja j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in tyt\u00e4rt\u00e4, ja siit\u00e4 kaikki neekerit joutuivat\nraivoihinsa. Vaimon mies oli ilmaissut vimmansa hyvin uhkaavasti,\njolloin valkoihoinen oli ollut h\u00e4net tappaa. Mutta y\u00f6ll\u00e4 neekeri, ollen\nirrallaan, varasti itselleen k\u00e4sikangen, ja kun sama vastustaja taaskin\nsaapui h\u00e4tyyttelem\u00e4\u00e4n vaimoa, niin neekeri yhdell\u00e4 iskulla rusensi\nh\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4kallonsa.\nSurmatulla oli vy\u00f6ss\u00e4\u00e4n avain, jolla h\u00e4nen oli tapana irrotella\nneekerien k\u00e4sirautoja; kapinoitsija otti avaimen ja p\u00e4\u00e4sti vapauteen\nsatakunta maanmiest\u00e4ns\u00e4. N\u00e4m\u00e4 nousivat kannelle, sieppasivat k\u00e4siins\u00e4\nkaikkea aseeksi kelpaavaa ja hy\u00f6kk\u00e4siv\u00e4t kannella olijain kimppuun. He\ntappoivat n\u00e4m\u00e4 kaikki ja j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in keulakannen alla asustavan osan\nmiehist\u00f6\u00e4. Kapteeni ja h\u00e4nen muut miehens\u00e4, jotka olivat kajuutissa ja\nper\u00e4sinkojussa, puolustausivat hyvin miehuullisesti ja ammuskelivat\nampumareijist\u00e4, tappaen ja haavottaen useita. Sitke\u00e4n vastarinnan\nj\u00e4lkeen villit p\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t murtautumaan per\u00e4sinkojuun, miss\u00e4 surmasivat\nkaksi valkoihoista, mutta sit\u00e4 ennen oli heist\u00e4 yksitoista kaatunut.\nMuut puolustautujat per\u00e4ytyiv\u00e4t luukun kautta kajuuttiin.\nLaivan tykkimies oli lukinnut itsens\u00e4 konstaapelien koppiin. Er\u00e4s\nh\u00e4nen miehens\u00e4 kiskoi isonveneen ihan per\u00e4n alle, ja he ker\u00e4siv\u00e4t\nsiihen kaikki aseet ja ampumavarat mit\u00e4 k\u00e4siins\u00e4 saivat, laskeutuivat\nveneeseen ja korjasivat siihen j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in kajuutista kapteenin ja\nh\u00e4nen joukkonsa. P\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ns\u00e4, siten kaikki vesille he p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t rynn\u00e4t\u00e4\nj\u00e4lleen laivan kimppuun ja yritt\u00e4\u00e4 vallata sen takaisin. He tekiv\u00e4t\nhurjan hy\u00f6kk\u00e4yksen kannelle ja surmasivat ensin kaikki tielt\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMutta neekerit olivat sill'aikaa p\u00e4\u00e4sseet kaikki irralleen ja saaneet\nly\u00f6m\u00e4aseita, vaikkakaan eiv\u00e4t osanneet k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 pyssyj\u00e4. Laivan miehist\u00f6\nei ollut kyennyt masentamaan noin suurta ylivoimaa. He kuitenkin\npysytteliv\u00e4t keulalaidan alla ja ottivat veneeseens\u00e4 kokin kopista\nmuutamat itsepintaisesti hengest\u00e4ns\u00e4 taistelleet miehet. Veneest\u00e4\nammuskellen he surmasivat useita kymmeni\u00e4 neekereit\u00e4, mutta olivat\nviimein pakotetut j\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n heid\u00e4t rauhaan.\nKertojamme ei osannut selitt\u00e4\u00e4, kuinka pitk\u00e4 aika oli tapauksesta\nkulunut, mutta kauvan he vain jo olivat ulapalla ajelehtaneet. He\nolivat saaneet surmatuksi noin kolmekymment\u00e4 valkoihoista; varsinkin\noli muuan j\u00e4ttil\u00e4ism\u00e4inen neekeri saanut suurta tuhoa aikaan.\nRautakangella h\u00e4n oli tappanut kolme vihollista viel\u00e4 sitte kun oli\nitse saanut kaksi luotia ruumiiseensa; h\u00e4net oli lopuksi kaatanut\nkapteeni per\u00e4sinkojun ovella, jonka h\u00e4n oli kangellansa v\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4nyt\nauki. Purjeita he eiv\u00e4t osanneet ollenkaan k\u00e4ytell\u00e4, olivat vain\nyksinkertaisesti toivoilleet, ett\u00e4 laiva veisi heid\u00e4t takaisin\nkotirannalle.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n laivan vallattuamme oli ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 harkittavanamme, mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4\nneekereille. Brasilian portugalilaiset olisivat ilomielin ostaneet\nne kaikki meilt\u00e4, ellemme olisi osottautuneet siell\u00e4 vihollisiksi\nja tulleet tunnetuiksi merirosvoina. Mutta nyt emme uskaltaneet\nmenn\u00e4 miss\u00e4\u00e4n siell\u00e4 p\u00e4in maihin ja ryhty\u00e4 kauppoihin sik\u00e4l\u00e4isten\nviljelysmaiden omistajien kanssa, sill\u00e4 silloin olisimme saaneet\nkoko maan v\u00e4est\u00f6n niskaamme, ja jos jossakin satamassa olisi ollut\nsotalaivoja, niin olisimme varmasti joutuneet niidenkin kanssa\ntekemisiin.\nMy\u00f6sk\u00e4\u00e4n emme voineet toivoa parempaa menestyst\u00e4, jos olisimme\nl\u00e4hteneet pohjoiseen oman kansallisuutemme siirtomaihin. Ajattelimme\njo vied\u00e4 ne Buenos Airesiin, myyd\u00e4ksemme heid\u00e4t espanjalaisille,\nmutta siell\u00e4 ei kaiketikaan olisi voitu noin suurta m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\u00e4 k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4.\nKauvemmaskaan emme heit\u00e4 taasen voineet ajatella kuljettaa, kun meill\u00e4\nolisi tullut puute ruokavaroista.\nViimein auttoi meid\u00e4t j\u00e4lleenkin pulasta William, kuten oli tehnyt jo\nmonessa pinteess\u00e4. H\u00e4n esitti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n l\u00e4htisi orjalaivan kapteenina\nparinkymmenen luotetuimman miehemme keralla ja koettaisi yksityisesti\ntehd\u00e4 kauppoja uutisviljelij\u00e4in kanssa pitkin Brasilian rannikkoa, ei\nkuitenkaan p\u00e4\u00e4satamissa, sill\u00e4 sit\u00e4 ei olisi sallittu.\nMe kaikki suostuimme t\u00e4h\u00e4n, ja sovittiin, ett\u00e4 me itse l\u00e4htisimme\nla Plata-virtaa kohden, jonne olimme ennenkin aikoneet, ja\nodottaisimme h\u00e4nt\u00e4 Port St. Pedron edustalla, kuten sit\u00e4 espanjalaiset\nnimitt\u00e4v\u00e4t. Viimeksi mainittu paikka on Rio Granden suulla; siell\u00e4\non espanjalaisilla pieni linnotus, mutta se ei luullaksemme ollut\nmiehitetty. Risteilimme siell\u00e4 edestakaisin, vaanien laivoja, vaikkakin\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n huomion arvoisia kohtaamatta. Kuitenkin k\u00e4ytimme aikaa pitk\u00e4n\nmerimatkamme valmisteluun, t\u00e4ytt\u00e4en kaikki vesis\u00e4ili\u00f6mme ja hankkien\ntuoretta kalaa ruuaksemme, jotta laivan varastot s\u00e4\u00e4styiv\u00e4t.\nWilliam sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin l\u00e4ksi pohjoiseen ja meni maihin Cape de St.\nThomasin kohdalla; sen ja Tuberon-saarten v\u00e4lill\u00e4 h\u00e4n sai myydyksi\nviljelysmaihin kaikki neekerit, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n puhui portugalinkielt\u00e4\njokseenkin hyvin ja kertoi ostajille hyvinkin uskottavan tarinan.\nLaivan ruokavarat muka olivat niukat, kun myrsky oli ajanut sen\nliian kauvas oikealta tolaltaan, joten oli mahdotonta en\u00e4\u00e4 yritt\u00e4\u00e4\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4paikkaan, Jamaikaan, vaan t\u00e4ytyi myyd\u00e4 el\u00e4v\u00e4 lasti t\u00e4ll\u00e4\nrannikolla. Eik\u00e4 siin\u00e4 jutussa paljoa totuudesta poikettukaan.\nWilliam tuntui perin rehdilt\u00e4 miehelt\u00e4, ja er\u00e4\u00e4n maanviljelij\u00e4n avulla,\njoka kutsui naapureitansa paikalle, h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4si lastistansa eroon\nviidess\u00e4 viikossa. Lopulta h\u00e4n m\u00f6i itse laivankin, ostaen sijalle\npienen purren, jollaista maanviljelij\u00e4t olivat k\u00e4ytt\u00e4neet neekerien\nkuljettamiseen. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 kapteeni William, kuten h\u00e4nt\u00e4 silloin nimitimme,\nl\u00e4ksi paluumatkalle ja tavotti meid\u00e4t Port St. Pedron edustalla.\nH\u00e4mm\u00e4styttip\u00e4 meit\u00e4 kerrassaan, kun n\u00e4imme Portugalin lippua\nkantavan purren saapuvan pitkin rannikkoa ja tulevan suoraan meit\u00e4\nkohti sittekin kun se oli jo varmasti n\u00e4hnyt molemmat laivamme.\nMe laukaisimme kanuunan sen l\u00e4helle tullessa, saadaksemme sen\nankkuroimaan, mutta se heti laukaisi viisi kanuunaa tervehdykseksi ja\nkohotti englantilaisen lippunsa. Silloin aloimme arvata tulijan William\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4ksemme, vaikka meit\u00e4 kummastutti h\u00e4nen saapumisensa purressa, kun\nkerran olimme h\u00e4net l\u00e4hes 300 tonnin laivassa liikkeelle l\u00e4hett\u00e4neet.\nMutta h\u00e4n teki pian tilin asioimisistaan, joihin meill\u00e4 oli per\u00e4ti\np\u00e4tev\u00e4t syyt olla t\u00e4ysin tyytyv\u00e4iset.\nPursi oli hyvin siro, iso, vankka ja hyvin rakennettu; sen kantavuus\noli l\u00e4hemm\u00e4 kuusikymment\u00e4 tonnia. Kanuunia oli siin\u00e4 kuusi, mutta me\nsovellutimme sen j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in kahtatoista kanuunaa varten. William\noli laivansa vaihtamisessa saanut 300 kultamoidoria v\u00e4li\u00e4, ja t\u00e4ll\u00e4\nsummalla h\u00e4n oli ahtanut aluksensa t\u00e4p\u00f6sen t\u00e4yteen ruokavaroja,\neritt\u00e4inkin leip\u00e4\u00e4, l\u00e4ski\u00e4 ja el\u00e4vi\u00e4 sikoja, joita oli kuusikymment\u00e4;\nt\u00e4rke\u00e4t\u00e4 oli my\u00f6skin, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli saanut hankituksi kahdeksankymment\u00e4\ntynn\u00f6rillist\u00e4 hyv\u00e4\u00e4 kanuunanruutia. Orjien hintana h\u00e4n toi 60,000\nespanjalaista kahdeksannes-kultarahaa.\nIlahutti meit\u00e4 noin ketter\u00e4n purrenkin saaminen aivan erinomaisesti,\nja me aloimme neuvotella, eik\u00f6 meid\u00e4n olisi parasta luopua isosta\nportugalilaisesta laivastamme, meill\u00e4 kun tuskin oli kylliksi v\u00e4ke\u00e4\nkaikkien kolmen miehitt\u00e4miseksi ja kun isointa laivaa pidettiin liian\nkookkaana meid\u00e4n toiminnallemme. Mutta kysymyksen ratkaisi p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6s\nvastaisesta suunnastamme.\nKapteeni Wilmotia halutti l\u00e4hte\u00e4 Etel\u00e4isen J\u00e4\u00e4meren kautta kulkemaan\npitkin Amerikan l\u00e4nsirannikkoa yl\u00f6s, arvellen siell\u00e4 varmasti joutuvan\njoitakuita hyvi\u00e4 espanjalaisia lasteja saaliiksemme. Sitte, jos tulisi\ntarpeelliseksi, olisimme voineet palata kotiin It\u00e4-Intian kautta,\npurjehtien siten maapallon ymp\u00e4ri, kuten moniaat olivat tehneet ennen\nmeit\u00e4.\nMin\u00e4 taasen luotin vanhaan tuttuun tyyssijaani Mosambikin rannikolla,\nja kuvailin tovereilleni mit\u00e4 kaunopuheliaimmin, kuinka edullista olisi\nn\u00e4in suurella voimalla etsi\u00e4 saalista Persian lahdelta, Punaiselta\nmerelt\u00e4, Malabarin rannikolta ja Bengalin lahdelta. Kertomukseni\nsik\u00e4l\u00e4isten laivojen satumaisista rikkauksista h\u00e4ik\u00e4isiv\u00e4t heit\u00e4, ja\nme siis p\u00e4\u00e4timme purjehtia kaakkoa kohti Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemelle p\u00e4in.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n johdosta pidimme kaikki kolme alustamme, koska sielt\u00e4 arvatenkin\nsaisimme miehist\u00f6mme t\u00e4ydennetyksi. Ellei n\u00e4in k\u00e4visi, luopuisimme\nyhdest\u00e4 laivastamme my\u00f6hemm\u00e4ll\u00e4.\nMeid\u00e4n oli luonnollisesti teht\u00e4v\u00e4 Williamista kapteeni purteen, jonka\nh\u00e4n oli taitavan toimintansa tuloksena meille tuonut. H\u00e4n esitti meille\nhyvin siev\u00e4sti, ettei h\u00e4n voinut olla taistelulaivan komentajana; mutta\njos antaisimme sen h\u00e4nelle osuutenansa orjalaivasta, jonka olimme\nsaaneet rehellisell\u00e4, tavalla, niin h\u00e4n pysyisi mukanamme muonittajana\nniin kauvan kuin olisi nykyisess\u00e4 pakonalaisessa tilassaan.\nMe ymm\u00e4rsimme h\u00e4nen ajatuksensa ja h\u00e4n sai purren haltuunsa sill\u00e4\nmeid\u00e4n puolestamme tarpeettomalla ehdolla, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei saisi yritt\u00e4\u00e4\nkarata ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n olisi kokonaan meid\u00e4n k\u00e4skett\u00e4viss\u00e4mme. Mutta\npiankin huomasin, ett\u00e4 v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4sti tarvitsin Williamia yksityisen\u00e4\nneuvonantajanani ja kumppaninani kaikin ajoin, eik\u00e4 h\u00e4nk\u00e4\u00e4n oikein\nviihtynyt uudessa asemassaan. Sen vuoksi siirtyi h\u00e4n takaisin minun\nlaivaani, ja purren kapteeniksi tuli er\u00e4s skotlantilainen nimelt\u00e4\nGordon, nuori, yritteli\u00e4s, uljas mies. Pursi varustettiin lis\u00e4tyn\nkanuunalukunsa ohella nelj\u00e4ll\u00e4 petererolla, mutta miehist\u00f6 oli meill\u00e4\nnyt muuhun voimaamme verraton aivan liian pieni.\nMe l\u00e4ksimme Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemelle lokakuun alusta ja sivuutimme\nsen marraskuun 12. p:n\u00e4, matkalla kohdaten pahoja ilmoja. N\u00e4imme\nsik\u00e4l\u00e4isill\u00e4 ankkuripaikoilla useita kauppalaivoja, sek\u00e4 englantilaisia\nett\u00e4 hollantilaisia, mutta emme katsoneet turvalliseksi ankkuroida\nniit\u00e4 v\u00e4ijym\u00e4\u00e4n, kun emme osanneet arvioida niiden voimaa ja kun ne\nolisivat saattaneet ryhty\u00e4 yleiseen toimintaan, jos olisivat saaneet\ntietoonsa meid\u00e4n oikean karvamme. Mutta kun tarvitsimme juomavett\u00e4,\nniin l\u00e4hetimme molemmat portugalilaiseen sotalaivaan kuuluvat veneet,\nmiehist\u00f6n\u00e4 kaikki portugalilaiset merimiehet, vedenottopaikkaan\nt\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n varastoamme; sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin me merell\u00e4 kohotimme Portugalin\nlipun ja pysyttelimme paikallamme kaiken y\u00f6t\u00e4. Muut eiv\u00e4t tienneet\nmit\u00e4 me olimme ja kaiketikin arvailivat meist\u00e4 mit\u00e4 tahansa muuta kuin\ntodellista laatuamme.\nKun veneemme palasivat kolmannen kerran lastinensa noin kello viisi\naamulla, pidimme vesivarojamme riitt\u00e4vin\u00e4 ja l\u00e4ksimme it\u00e4\u00e4 kohti. Mutta\nennen kuin he viimeist\u00e4 kertaa palasivat n\u00e4imme kepe\u00e4ll\u00e4 l\u00e4nsituulella,\naamun harmajassa sarastuksessa tuntemattoman purren tulla viilett\u00e4v\u00e4n\nt\u00e4ytt\u00e4 vauhtia meit\u00e4 kohti ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin pelj\u00e4ten meid\u00e4n enn\u00e4tt\u00e4viin l\u00e4hte\u00e4\ntiehemme. Pian huomasimme sen englantilaiseksi isoksiveneeksi, ja se\noli jokseenkin t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 miehi\u00e4. Emme voineet kuvitella, mik\u00e4 sen asiana\nsaattaisi olla; mutta kun se oli vain vene, niin emme katsoneet olevan\nhaitaksi antaa heid\u00e4n tulla laivaamme. Jos ilmenisi, ett\u00e4 he olivat\ntulleet vain tiedustamaan ket\u00e4 me olimme, niin me antaisimme heille\nt\u00e4yden selvityksen ammatistamme, ottamalla heid\u00e4t mukaamme, koska\nkerran niin kipe\u00e4sti tarvitsimme miehi\u00e4.\nMutta he s\u00e4\u00e4stiv\u00e4t meilt\u00e4 kaiken vaivan. Portugalilaiset merimiehemme\neiv\u00e4t nimitt\u00e4in olleetkaan pysyneet vedenottopaikassa niin vaiteliaina\nkuin olimme luulleet. Er\u00e4\u00e4n it\u00e4-intialaisen kauppalaivan kapteeni oli\njostakin syyst\u00e4 kohdellut miehi\u00e4ns\u00e4 kovin ankarasti ja St. Helenalla\npieks\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt joitakuita heist\u00e4. T\u00e4m\u00e4n johdosta oli miehist\u00f6 p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt\npoistua laivasta ensim\u00e4isess\u00e4 sopivassa tilaisuudessa. Jotkut heist\u00e4\nolivat tavanneet vedenottomiehi\u00e4mme ja saaneet heid\u00e4n puheistansa vihi\u00e4\nmeid\u00e4n laivojemme laadusta. Viesti siit\u00e4 levisi heti heid\u00e4n laivaansa,\ny\u00f6n hiljaisuudessa he kaikin ker\u00e4siv\u00e4t tamineensa ja l\u00e4ksiv\u00e4t ennen\np\u00e4iv\u00e4nkoittoa tavottamaan meit\u00e4.\nHe saapuivat siihen laivaamme, jonka kapteenina min\u00e4 olin, ja\nselittiv\u00e4t olevansa englantilaisia merimiehi\u00e4. Aluksi p\u00e4\u00e4stettiin vain\nyksi heist\u00e4 laivan kannelle, ja h\u00e4n esitti heid\u00e4n halunsa p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 meid\u00e4n\njoukkoomme. Huomasimme miehet reippaiksi ja p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4isiksi, joten\nvastasin heille heti tiedustavani toisessa laivassa olevan amiraalimme\nmielt\u00e4. L\u00e4hetin pinassini hakemaan kapteeni Wilmotia, mutta h\u00e4n oli\npahoinvointinen, ja j\u00e4tti asian minun kokonaan hoidettavakseni. Mutta\nennen veneeni palaamistakaan Wilmot huusi minulle puhetorvella, jonka\n\u00e4\u00e4nen kaikki miehet kuulivat yht\u00e4 hyvin kuin min\u00e4kin: \"Kuulen ett\u00e4 he\novat kelpo miehi\u00e4, toivota heid\u00e4t vain tervetulleiksi ja valmistuta\nheille maljallinen punssia.\"\nMiehet hurrasivat huikeasti, syv\u00e4sti kiitollisina siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 olivat\nvapautuneet raskaasta sorrosta. Mutta me kiinnitimme heid\u00e4t j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in\nviel\u00e4 lujemmin sitein, sill\u00e4 Madagaskarille tultuamme m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si Wilmot\nkaikkien suostumuksella, ett\u00e4 n\u00e4ille miehille annettaisiin yleisest\u00e4\nrahastosta sen verran kuin heille oli edellisess\u00e4 laivassansa\nj\u00e4\u00e4nyt palkkasaatavaa, ja sen lis\u00e4ksi he saivat kaksikymment\u00e4\nkahdeksannes-kultakolikkoa mieheen lahjapalkkioksi. Siit\u00e4 l\u00e4htein\nheill\u00e4 oli sama saalisosuus kuin muillakin, ja urheita meripoikia he\nolivatkin, luvultaan kahdeksantoista, niiss\u00e4 kaksi merikadettia ja yksi\npuusepp\u00e4.\nYHDEKS\u00c4S LUKU.\nLaivasto Afrikan vesill\u00e4.\nMarraskuun 28. p:n\u00e4 ankkuroitsimme St. Augustine-lahden suulle vanhan\ntuttavani, Madagaskarin saaren, lounaiseen kulmaan. Pysyttelimme siell\u00e4\njonkun aikaa ja ostelimme alkuasukkailta hyv\u00e4\u00e4 naudanlihaa, josta\nosan valmistimme varastoksi vastaisuutta varten salpietarin avulla ja\nauringossa kuivaten.\nMin\u00e4 rupesin nyt l\u00e4hemmin esitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n suunnitelmiani. Saaren rannoilta\noli tarjolla kaksi v\u00e4yl\u00e4\u00e4 saaliin haulle. Ensim\u00e4inen ulottui\nit\u00e4puolella olevasta lahdesta Mauritiuksen saarelle, ollen Malabarin\nja Koromandelin rannikolta, Fort St. Georgesta ja muualta tulevien\nlaivojen tavallinen tola. Mutta europalaiset kauppalaivat olivat\nyleens\u00e4 lujasti varustettuja ja runsaasti miehitettyj\u00e4, joten niilt\u00e4\nvoi odottaa sitke\u00e4t\u00e4 vastarintaa. Sen vuoksi puolsin toista v\u00e4yl\u00e4\u00e4,\njonka takasin tuottavan yht\u00e4 hyvi\u00e4 tuloksia, mutta ilman mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nmainittavia vaaroja. T\u00e4m\u00e4 oli Mokan lahti eli Punainen meri.\nKerroin heille, ett\u00e4 liike oli siell\u00e4 vilkasta, laivat rikkaita\nja Babelmandebin salmi soukka, joten me ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 voisimme\nristeill\u00e4 sallimatta mink\u00e4\u00e4nlaisen aluksen livahtaa k\u00e4sist\u00e4mme siin\u00e4\nliikenteess\u00e4, jota rajottavat Punainen meri, Arabian rannikolla,\nPersian lahti ja Malabarin puoli Intiaa.\nKuvailin kokemuksiani edelliselt\u00e4 purjehdusmatkaltani saaren ymp\u00e4ri,\nsaaren pohjoisk\u00e4rjen monia laivoillemme sopivia oivallisia satamia ja\nankkuripaikkoja, asukkaiden s\u00e4yseytt\u00e4 ja auliutta, ja turvapaikkojen\nvarmuutta sek\u00e4 vihollisia ett\u00e4 pahoja s\u00e4it\u00e4 vastaan. Suunnitelmani\ntulivat helposti hyv\u00e4ksytyiksi. Kapteeni Wilmot, jota nyt nimitin\namiraaliksemme, oli kyll\u00e4 ensin aikonut Mauritiuksen saaren seuduilla\nv\u00e4ijy\u00e4 europalaisia kauppalaivoja, mutta mieltyi pian minun esitykseeni.\nOn kyll\u00e4 totta, ett\u00e4 me olimme kyllin voimakkaat k\u00e4ym\u00e4\u00e4n isoimmankin\nenglantilaisen It\u00e4-Intian laivan kimppuun, vaikka muutamissa niist\u00e4\nsanottiin olevan viisikymment\u00e4 kanuunaa; mutta taisteleminen niiden\nkanssa olisi kuitenkin tuottanut meille suuria vaurioita. Toiselta\npuolen ei niiden lasti olisi ollut meille kovinkaan arvokasta,\nmeill\u00e4 kun ei olisi ollut myyntipaikkoja niiden tavaroille. Meille\noli kannattavampaa siepata yksi It\u00e4-Intiaan menev\u00e4 laiva k\u00e4teisine\nrahoinensa kuin kolmekin sielt\u00e4 tulevaa laivaa, vaikkapa niiden\nlasti olisi Lontoossa ollut kuinkakin suurta summaa vastaava,\nSit\u00e4paitsi toivat laivat Englannista kaikenlaista tavaraa, jota\nme osasimme k\u00e4ytell\u00e4, kuten ruokavaroja ja v\u00e4kijuomia sek\u00e4 muuta\nsellaista englantilaisten siirtomaiden hallitusten ja kauppahuoneiden\nhenkil\u00f6kunnan tarpeiksi aijottua.\nMe kiersimme siis Madagaskarin saaren sen pohjoisk\u00e4rjen edustalle asti\nja l\u00e4hetimme purren pohjoisimman k\u00e4rjen ymp\u00e4ri t\u00e4hystelem\u00e4\u00e4n rannikolta\nmukavaa satamaa poikkeuspaikaksemme. Tiedustelijat l\u00f6ysiv\u00e4t piankin\nsyv\u00e4n lahden, jota muutamat pikku saaret suojasivat, ja sinne me ensi\nty\u00f6ksemme vet\u00e4ysimme lep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n. Ryhdyimme v\u00e4leihin alkuasukasten\nkanssa, muonittaaksemme itsemme pitemp\u00e4\u00e4 risteily\u00e4 varten, ja\nsiin\u00e4 onnistuimmekin jokseenkin hyvin. M\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4simme t\u00e4m\u00e4n sataman\ntulevaksi yhtym\u00e4paikaksemme ja l\u00e4ksimme etsim\u00e4\u00e4n saalista huhtikuun\nj\u00e4lkipuoliskolla. Me risteilimme pohjoiseen, Arabian rannikolle.\nMatka oli pitk\u00e4, mutta kun toukokuusta syyskuuhun tavallisesti k\u00e4y\npasaatituulia etel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja etel\u00e4kaakosta, niin meill\u00e4 oli hyvi\u00e4 ilmoja.\nKolmessa viikossa saavutimme Sokotran saaren, joka sijaitsee Arabian\nrannikon etel\u00e4puolella Punaisen meren suulla.\nSielt\u00e4 otimme vett\u00e4 ja aloimme vaaniskella Arabian rannikolla, Olimme\nristeilleet siell\u00e4 vasta kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, kun min\u00e4 n\u00e4in aluksen ja l\u00e4ksin\najamaan sit\u00e4 takaa. Mutta milloinkaan ei ole saaliinhimoinen merirosvo\nahdistanut kehnompaa uhria, sill\u00e4 sen tavotettuamme l\u00f6ysimme siit\u00e4 vain\nk\u00f6yhi\u00e4, puolialastomia turkkilaisia pyhiinvaellusmatkalla profeettansa\nhaudalle Mekkaan. Heid\u00e4n kuunarissaan ei ollut muuta ottamisen arvoista\nkuin pikku er\u00e4 riisi\u00e4 ja kahvia, mik\u00e4 oli kaikkena noiden raukkojen\nelantona; meid\u00e4n oli pakko p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4t niine hyvinens\u00e4 menem\u00e4\u00e4n.\nSamana iltana h\u00e4tyyttelimme toista samanlaista kaksimastoista alusta ja\nhuomasimme sen hiukan paremmaksi. Matkustajat olivat samalla asialla\nkuin edellisetkin, mutta jonkun verran varakkaampaa v\u00e4ke\u00e4. Saimme\nsaaliiksemme joitakuita turkkilaisia tarvetavaroita, viiden tai kuuden\nhenkil\u00f6n korvarenkaissa komeilevat timantit, hienoja persialaisia\nmattoja ja rahaakin; sitten annoimme heid\u00e4n menn\u00e4.\nYhteentoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n emme sitte n\u00e4hneet muuta kuin silloin t\u00e4ll\u00f6in\nkalastajaveneen; kahdentenatoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ilmestyi n\u00e4kyviimme\nlaiva, jota ensin luulin englantilaiseksi, mutta se osottausikin\neuropalaiseksi, joka oli ottanut hyvin kallisarvoisen lastin\nGoasta, Malabarin rannikolta, Punaiselle merelle. Me saavutimme ja\nvaltasimme sen ilman taistelua, vaikka laivassa kyll\u00e4 oli moniaita\nkanuuniakin. Miehist\u00f6n\u00e4 oli portugalilaisia, mutta laivaa hallitsi\nviisi turkkilaista kauppamiest\u00e4, jotka olivat Malabarin rannikolla\nvuokranneet sen muutamilta portugalilaisilta liiketuttaviltaan ja\nlastanneet siihen pippuria, salpietaria, ryytej\u00e4, karttuunia ja\nsilkkikudoksia, joista monet olivat hyvin kallisarvoisia.\nMe veimme laivan Sokotraan, mutta emme todellakaan tienneet mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4\nsille, meill\u00e4 kun ei ollut myyntipaikkaa heid\u00e4n tavaroilleen. Muutaman\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua esitimme yhdelle turkkilaisista kauppamiehist\u00e4, ett\u00e4 me\nolisimme valmiit vapauttamaan laivan, jos h\u00e4n hankkisi meille lunnaat\nsiit\u00e4. H\u00e4n ilmotti heid\u00e4n suostuvan siihen, jos antaisin yhden heist\u00e4\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 maihin noutamaan rahoja. Me arvioitsimme lastin lunastushinnaksi\n30,000 dukaattia, ja pursi vei turkkilaisen Dofariin, Arabiaan, miss\u00e4\nmuuan rikas kauppias suoritti maksun heid\u00e4n puolestaan. Me pidimme\nkunniallisesti sopimuksemme ja vapautimme laivan.\nJoitakuita p\u00e4ivi\u00e4 my\u00f6hemmin sieppasimme arabialaisen kuunarin, jolla\noli melkoinen lasti helmi\u00e4 Persian lahdelta Mokkaan. Me korjasimme\nitsellemme helmet, jotka olivat muutamien Mokan kauppamiesten\nomaisuutta, ja annoimme laivan menn\u00e4 menojaan, sill\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n muuta\nottamisen arvoista ei siin\u00e4 ollut.\nSiten risteilimme edes takaisin kunnes ruokavaramme alkoivat k\u00e4yd\u00e4\nniukoiksi, jolloin kapteeni Wilmot sanoi olevan parasta k\u00e4yd\u00e4\najattelemaan yhtym\u00e4paikalle palaamista. Miehist\u00f6 arveli samaa, ollen\nhiukan v\u00e4synyt runsaasti kolmikuukautisesta kuljeskelusta, jonka\ntulokset eiv\u00e4t suuriin odotuksiimme verraten olleet tuntuneet milt\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMin\u00e4 olin hyvin vastahakoinen eri\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n Punaisesta merest\u00e4 niin\nhalvalla ja sain heid\u00e4t viipym\u00e4\u00e4n hiukan kauvemmin. Mutta kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4\nj\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in kuulimme, ett\u00e4 kovaksi onneksemme olimme turkkilaisen\nkauppiaan maihin Dofarissa laskemisella h\u00e4tyytt\u00e4neet koko rannikon\nPersian lahdelle saakka, joten mik\u00e4\u00e4n laiva ei nyt uskaltaisi n\u00e4ille\nvesille. Sielt\u00e4 p\u00e4in ei siis ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n odotettavissa.\nOlin kovasti nolona t\u00e4st\u00e4 viestist\u00e4 enk\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 voinut vastustaa miesten\nkiihke\u00e4t\u00e4 halua palata Madagaskarille. Mutta kun tuuli yh\u00e4 edelleen\nk\u00e4vi etel\u00e4lounaasta, niin oli meid\u00e4n pakko poiketa Afrikan rannikkoa ja\nKap Guardafuita kohden, tuulet kun rannikolla ovat vaihtelevampia kuin\nulapalla.\nSiell\u00e4 osasimme saaliiseen, jollaista emme olisi voineet aavistaa ja\njoka korvasi kaiken odotteluunne. Sill\u00e4 juuri samalla tunnilla kuin maa\ntuli n\u00e4kyviimme, huomasimme ison laivan purjehtivan rannikkoa pitkin\netel\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in. Laiva oli bengalilainen, Suur-Mogulin maasta, mutta siin\u00e4\noli hollantilainen luotsi, nimelt\u00e4\u00e4n muistaakseni Vandergest, ja useita\neuropalaisia merimiehi\u00e4, niist\u00e4 kolme englantilaista. Se ei kyennyt\ntekem\u00e4\u00e4n vastarintaa. Sen muut matruusit, olivat hinduja, Mogulin\nalamaisia, ja joitakuita oli Malabarin rannikolta.\nLaivassa oli viisi intialaista kauppiasta ja muutamia armenialaisia. He\nolivat olleet Mokassa myym\u00e4ss\u00e4 mausteita, silkkej\u00e4, timantteja, helmi\u00e4,\nkarttuunia y.m.s. maansa tavaroita, ja nyt heill\u00e4 oli tuskin muuta\nmukanansa kuin kahdeksanneskultakolikoita -- parasta tavaraa meille.\nNuo kolme englantilaista merimiest\u00e4 yhtyiv\u00e4t meihin, ja samaten olisi\ntehnyt hollantilainen luotsikin, mutta kaksi armenialaista kauppiasta\nrukoili meit\u00e4, ettemme ottaisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 mukaamme, miehist\u00e4 kun ei kukaan\nolisi osannut ohjata laivaa. Me kielt\u00e4ysimmekin ottamasta h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nvastaan; he vakuuttivat, ettei h\u00e4nen halunsa yhty\u00e4 joukkoomme tuottaisi\nh\u00e4nelle rangaistusta.\nT\u00e4st\u00e4 laivasta saimme l\u00e4hes 200,000 kahdeksannes-kultakolikkoa; ja\nmeille kerrottiin, ett\u00e4 er\u00e4s Goan juutalainen oli aikonut matkustaa\nsamalla kertaa, mukanaan niinik\u00e4\u00e4n 200,000 kahdeksannes-kultakolikkoa,\nmutta hyv\u00e4ksi onnekseen, joksi h\u00e4nen kova onnensa nyt k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi, h\u00e4n oli\nsairastunut Mokassa ja siten j\u00e4\u00e4nyt odottamaan toista laivaa, pelastaen\nsuuren omaisuutensa.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n saaliin sieppaamisessa oli mukanani ainoastaan pursi, sill\u00e4\nkapteeni Wilmotin laiva oli saanut vuodon, jonka vuoksi h\u00e4n oli\nl\u00e4htenyt edell\u00e4mme yhtym\u00e4paikalle. H\u00e4n saapui sinne joulukuun\npuoliv\u00e4liss\u00e4, mutta ei pit\u00e4nyt satamasta, vaan j\u00e4tti rannalle ristin,\njohon kiinnitettyyn lyijylevyyn oli piirretty, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n piti tulla\nh\u00e4nen per\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n Mangahellyn isoille lahdille, mist\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt\noivallisen satamapaikan.\nMutta me saimme vanhalla yhtym\u00e4paikalla kuulla uutisia, jotka\npid\u00e4tteliv\u00e4t meit\u00e4 kauvan aikaa poissa. Amiraalimme oli siit\u00e4 tuimasti\n\u00e4keiss\u00e4\u00e4n, kunnes selitimme h\u00e4nelle 200,000 kultakolikon seikkailun,\njoka per\u00e4ti suuresti lis\u00e4si h\u00e4nenkin laivansa osuutta.\nTulomme h\u00e4nen luokseen keskeytti seuraava tapaus.\nMangahellyn ja Kap St. Sebastianiksi nimitetyn toisen niemekkeen\nv\u00e4lill\u00e4 ajautui y\u00f6ll\u00e4 rantaan europalainen laiva joko pahan\ns\u00e4\u00e4n vaikutuksesta tai luotsin puutteessa. Meid\u00e4n laivamme\noli mainitsemassani suljetussa lahdessa, joka oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4tty\nyhtym\u00e4paikaksemme, emmek\u00e4 olleet viel\u00e4 k\u00e4yneet rannalla, joten emme\namiraalimmekaan meille j\u00e4tt\u00e4mist\u00e4 ohjeista tienneet.\nYst\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4mme Williamia, josta en ole toviin sanaakaan virkkanut, halutti\nkovasti er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 l\u00e4hte\u00e4 maihin, ja h\u00e4n k\u00e4rtti minulta pikku\nmiesjoukkoa turvaksi mukaansa, jotta he voisivat tarkastella seutua.\nMin\u00e4 olin monestakin syyst\u00e4 ankarasti sellaista hommaa vastaan, mutta\neritt\u00e4inkin painostin sit\u00e4 seikkaa, ett\u00e4 alkuasukkaat olivat lopultakin\npelkki\u00e4 villej\u00e4, hyvin petollisia. En voinut muuta kuin ehdottomasti\nev\u00e4t\u00e4 h\u00e4nen pyynt\u00f6ns\u00e4.\nMutta h\u00e4n tarjoutui suoraan selitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n halunsa kiihkeyden. H\u00e4n oli\nnimitt\u00e4in edellisen\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 n\u00e4hnyt unta niin voimakasta ja mieleen\ntehoavaa, ettei voinut saada hetkenk\u00e4\u00e4n rauhaa ennen kuin p\u00e4\u00e4sisi\nl\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n. H\u00e4n oli ollut l\u00e4htevin\u00e4\u00e4n maihin kolmenkymmenen miehen\nkeralla, joista laivaveneen p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6 oli ollut yksi, ja he olivat\nl\u00f6yt\u00e4neet kultakaivoksen. Mutta ei siin\u00e4 viel\u00e4 kaikki. Samana aamuna\noli laivaveneen p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6 tullut h\u00e4nen luokseen ja kertonut olleensa\nunissa menevin\u00e4ns\u00e4 maihin, jolloin joitakuita miehi\u00e4 oli ollut\ntulevinaan h\u00e4nen luokseen, tarjoutuen n\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nelle saaliin, joka\ntekisi meist\u00e4 kaikista rikkaita.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 yhteensattuma alkoi hiukan vaikuttaa minuun, vaikken koskaan\nollutkaan piitannut unenn\u00e4\u00f6ist\u00e4. Williamin harras pyytely k\u00e4\u00e4nsi p\u00e4\u00e4ni\nlopullisesti, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olin aina pit\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nen ajatuksiansa suuressa\narvossa. Annoin heille luvan l\u00e4hte\u00e4, mutta kielsin poistumasta kauvas\nrannalta, jotta h\u00e4d\u00e4n kohdatessa voisivat pikimmiten p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 odottamaan\nvaralla olevia veneit\u00e4mme.\nHe l\u00e4ksiv\u00e4t aamulla aikaisin, yksinelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 miest\u00e4 luvultaan, vankasti\naseestettuina ja vantteria poikia kaikki. He samosivat eteenp\u00e4in kaiken\np\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja antoivat meille illalla ennakolta sovitun merkin, ett\u00e4 kaikki\noli hyvin, sytytt\u00e4m\u00e4ll\u00e4 korkealle vuorelle ison nuotion.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 he laskeusivat alas rinnett\u00e4 toiselle puolelle,\nkaartaen merenrantaa kohti, lupauksensa mukaan. He n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t edess\u00e4\u00e4n\nherttaisen laakson, jonka keskell\u00e4 polvitteli siksi iso virta, ett\u00e4 se\nhiukan et\u00e4\u00e4mp\u00e4n\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti kykenev\u00e4n vaikkapa pikku aluksia kuljettamaan.\nHe astelivat verkalleen virralle p\u00e4in ja kuulivat h\u00e4mm\u00e4styksekseen\njokseenkin l\u00e4helt\u00e4 pyssynlaukauksen. He kuuntelivat kauvan, mutta\nkaikki pysyi sitte hiljaisena, joten he jatkoivat matkaansa virralle.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 oli jokseenkin vuolas ja leveni levenemist\u00e4\u00e4n; he seurasivat sen\n\u00e4yr\u00e4st\u00e4, kunnes se \u00e4kki\u00e4 avartui hyv\u00e4ksi satamapaikaksi noin viiden\nengl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 merest\u00e4, ja sataman suussa he ihmeekseen\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t laivan hylyn.\nOli nousuveden aika, niin ett\u00e4 hylky ei paljoakaan kohonnut veden\npinnasta, mutta alemma kulkiessaan he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t sen yh\u00e4 isompana.\nLaskuveden aikana se lojui kuivillaan hietik\u00f6ll\u00e4 ja osottausi hyvinkin\nkookkaaksi alukseksi. William otti kaukoputkensa, t\u00e4hystell\u00e4kseen sit\u00e4\ntarkemmin, mutta samassa viuhahti musketinluoti h\u00e4nen ohitseen ja heti\nj\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in pamahti tykki, savupilven p\u00f6ll\u00e4ht\u00e4ess\u00e4 avartuman toisella\npuolella.\nMeid\u00e4n miehemme heti laukaisivat kolme muskettia, saadakseen\ntuntemattomat n\u00e4kyviins\u00e4. Oitis alkoikin miehi\u00e4 juosta metsik\u00f6st\u00e4\ntoiseen rantaan, ja oli helppo n\u00e4hd\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he olivat europalaisia.\nMeik\u00e4l\u00e4iset hoilasivat heille niin kovasti kuin jaksoivat ja\npystyttiv\u00e4t pitk\u00e4n seip\u00e4\u00e4n latvaan valkoisen paidan rauhan merkiksi.\nToiset n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t sen kaukoputkillaan ja pian l\u00e4ksi heid\u00e4n puoleltaan\nveneellinen miehi\u00e4 soutamaan meik\u00e4l\u00e4isten luo, hekin valkeata lippua\nn\u00e4ytt\u00e4en.\nOn mahdoton kuvailla molemminpuolista h\u00e4mm\u00e4styst\u00e4 ja riemua, kun\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t n\u00e4in et\u00e4isess\u00e4 paikassa ei ainoastaan europalaisia, vaan\nviel\u00e4p\u00e4 omia maanmiehi\u00e4, englantilaisia. Mutta vastapa nousi ilo\nylimmilleen, kun he toisiaan k\u00e4telless\u00e4\u00e4n tunsivat olevansakin\ntoveruksia: haaksirikkoutunut laiva oli sama, jota kapteeni Wilmot oli\nkomentanut ja joka oli h\u00e4ipynyt seurastamme myrskyss\u00e4 Tobagon luona,\nsovittuamme yhtymisest\u00e4 Madagaskarilla!\nHe olivat saaren etel\u00e4osaan tultuansa saaneet tietoja meist\u00e4 ja\nkuljeskelleet Bengalin lahdelle asti, miss\u00e4 kohtasivat kapteeni\nAveryn. He yhtyiv\u00e4t h\u00e4neen ja valtasivat useita rikkaita laivoja,\nsaaden saaliikseen suunnattoman paljon rahoja ja jalokivi\u00e4. Sielt\u00e4\nhe joutuivat Koromandelin rannikolle ja j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in Malabarin, sek\u00e4\nlopulta Persian lahdelle, aina jotakin saalista l\u00f6yt\u00e4en. Lopuksi he\np\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t poiketa Madagaskarin etel\u00e4osaan, mutta navakat kaakkois- ja\nit\u00e4kaakkois-tuulet painoivat heid\u00e4t saaren pohjois-osaan; raivokas\nluoteismyrsky erotti heid\u00e4t sittemmin toisistaan, meid\u00e4n miestemme\nlaiva ajautui tuohon jokipohjukkaan ja joutui hylyksi. He kertoivat\nkuulleensa, ett\u00e4 kapteeni Avery itsekin oli jonkun verran edemp\u00e4n\u00e4\nmenett\u00e4nyt laivansa.\nKertoiltuaan vaiheitansa toinen toisillensa kiirehtiv\u00e4t useimmat\nveneell\u00e4 tulleet ilmottamaan iloansa kumppaneilleen. William l\u00e4ksi\nkahden kumppanin keralla heid\u00e4n pikku leirillens\u00e4. Kaikkiaan oli siell\u00e4\nnoin satakuusikymment\u00e4 miest\u00e4; he olivat siirt\u00e4neet kanuunansa maihin\nsek\u00e4 jonkun verran ampumavaroja, mutta ruudista oli suuri osa mennyt\npilalle. Kuitenkin olivat he rakentaneet melkoisen lavan ja asettaneet\nsille kaksitoista kanuunaa, mik\u00e4 oli heille riitt\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4 suojana meren\npuolella. Lavan vierelle he olivat pystytt\u00e4neet pikku laivaveist\u00e4m\u00f6n\nja rakentelivat parhaillaan kaikella kiireell\u00e4 jonkunlaista alusta\nitselleen. Tieto meid\u00e4n saapumisestamme keskeytti sen puuhan.\nHeid\u00e4n m\u00f6keiss\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4mm\u00e4stytti miehi\u00e4mme siell\u00e4 oleva suunnaton kullan,\nhopean ja jalokivien paljous, mutta he sanoivat, ettei t\u00e4m\u00e4 ollut\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n niihin aarteisiin verraten, joita kapteeni Averylla oli, minne\nh\u00e4n sitten oli joutunutkaan.\nOlimme odottaneet miehi\u00e4mme viisi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, kuulematta heist\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n, ja\nmin\u00e4 todella pidinkin heit\u00e4 jo hukkaan joutuneina. Suureksi kummaksemme\nn\u00e4imme sitte laivaveneen soutavan pitkin rantaa meit\u00e4 kohti. En voinut\nymm\u00e4rt\u00e4\u00e4, mit\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 merkitsi, mutta aloin sent\u00e4\u00e4n hiukan rauhoittua\nn\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni veneess\u00e4 ohjain heiluttavan minulle lakkejansa.\nPian p\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t he ihan l\u00e4helle, jolloin tunsin William yst\u00e4v\u00e4mme\nveneess\u00e4 seisomassa meille merkkej\u00e4 tehden. Palaajia oli vain\nviisitoista miest\u00e4, mutta joutuisasti he h\u00e4lvensiv\u00e4t kaikki pahat\najatuksemme, kertoen ilosanomansa. Seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 me nostimme\nankkurimme ja l\u00e4ksimme etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti, yhty\u00e4ksemme kapteeni Wilmotiin\nMangahellyss\u00e4. H\u00e4n oli ensin kovasti \u00e4hmiss\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta kaikki\nkertomisemme kuultuansa yht\u00e4 paljon ihmeiss\u00e4\u00e4n ja ihastuksissaan.\nToveriemme leiri oli niin l\u00e4hell\u00e4 Mangahelly\u00e4, ett\u00e4 amiraalimme ja\nmin\u00e4, William yst\u00e4v\u00e4mme sek\u00e4 muutamat miehet p\u00e4\u00e4timme ottaa purren ja\nnoutaa laivaamme heid\u00e4t kaikki tavaroinensa ja kapineinensa. Teimme\nhauskan vierailun heid\u00e4n olosijoillensa ja toimme heid\u00e4t jonkun\naikaa viivyskelty\u00e4mme mukanamme pois. Kuukauden kuluttua l\u00e4hetimme\npurren pitkin rannikkoa etsiskelem\u00e4\u00e4n kapteeni Averya. Viikon ajan\nristeilty\u00e4ns\u00e4 miehemme l\u00f6ysiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen joukkonsa yht\u00e4 pahassa p\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\nkuin meid\u00e4nkin toverimme olivat olleet.\nPursi toi kapteeni Averyn mukanaan, ja nyt sai t\u00e4m\u00e4 kuuluisa sissi\nsuurimman joukkonsa, sill\u00e4 me yhdyimme kaikki h\u00e4neen. Meill\u00e4 oli\nkaksi laivaa ja pursi, sek\u00e4 niiss\u00e4 320 miest\u00e4, mik\u00e4 oli tosin aivan\nliian pieni m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4, sill\u00e4 iso portugalilainen laivamme olisi yksist\u00e4\u00e4n\ntarvinnut l\u00e4hes 400 miest\u00e4 t\u00e4ydeksi miehist\u00f6kseen. Nyt l\u00f6ytyneen\ntoverilaivamme miehist\u00f6 oli 180 paikkeilla, ja kapteeni Averylla oli\nsuunnilleen 300 miest\u00e4 mukanaan, niiss\u00e4 kymmenen puusepp\u00e4\u00e4. Siten oli\nAveryn koko voimana Madagaskarilla vuoden 1699 vaiheilla meid\u00e4n kolme\nlaivaamme ja 800 miest\u00e4.\nMe sovimme siten, ett\u00e4 siirsimme oman v\u00e4kemme portugalilaiseen\nsotalaivaan ja purteen ja luovutimme kapteeni Averylle espanjalaisen\nfregattimme kaikkine varustuksinensa; he maksoivat siit\u00e4 aarteittensa\nylt\u00e4kyll\u00e4isyydess\u00e4 40,000 kahdeksannes-kultakolikkoa.\nNeuvotellessamme mihin nyt ryhdytt\u00e4isiin ehdotti kapteeni Avery,\nett\u00e4 rakentaisimme t\u00e4nne pikku kaupungin lujine linnoituksinensa,\nasustaen maalla rikkauksinemme ja hankkien lis\u00e4\u00e4 mik\u00e4li halusimme;\nkaupunki olisi ainaisena turvapaikkanamme, ja me uhmailisimme koko\nmaailmaa. Min\u00e4 taasen selitin h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 jos me koettaisimme jatkaa\nammattiamme, niin ei t\u00e4m\u00e4 paikka pysyisi turvanamme, sill\u00e4 silloin\nkaikki Europan kansat yhtyisiv\u00e4t tuhoksemme. Mutta tietysti saisimme\nasettua rauhallisiksi uutisviljelij\u00f6iksi minne hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4, etenkin jonkun\nsis\u00e4maan virran varrelle, minne ei laivoilla p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4isi l\u00e4hellemme.\nTunnustin, ett\u00e4 tuollainen rauhallinen el\u00e4m\u00e4 voisi olla omiaan niille,\njoiden teki mieli luopua vaaralliselta uraltaan, silti haluamatta\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 kotimaahan, miss\u00e4 heit\u00e4 hirsipuu uhkasi.\nKapteeni Avery ei lausunut selv\u00e4sti mielipidett\u00e4\u00e4n minun esityksest\u00e4ni,\nmutta j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in kuulin h\u00e4nen lippunsa alta l\u00e4hteneen viisikymment\u00e4\nmiest\u00e4 sis\u00e4maahan siirtolaa perustamaan. Luultavasti ovat he siell\u00e4\nviel\u00e4kin, ja lis\u00e4\u00e4ntynein\u00e4, sill\u00e4 kolmen er\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 hollantilaisesta\nlaivasta siepatun naisen kerrottiin valinneen itselleen aviomiehen\nheid\u00e4n joukostaan. Itse tuntui Avery yh\u00e4 edelleen olevan kovasti\nkiintynyt siihen ajatukseen, ett\u00e4 olisi mahdollista asustaa varmassa\nturvapaikassa maalla ja samalla toimeenpanna risteilyj\u00e4 merell\u00e4. Samaan\nmielipiteeseen yhtyi lopulta kapteeni Wilmot, ja niin he viimein\np\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4tkin.\nAjan mittaan oli meid\u00e4n v\u00e4ess\u00e4mme syntynyt paljon hajaannusta; yksi\ntahtoi yht\u00e4\u00e4nne, toinen toisaanne, kunnes aloin \u00e4lyt\u00e4, ett\u00e4 joukkomme\njakautuisi ja ettei meille kenties j\u00e4isi kylliksi v\u00e4ke\u00e4 ison laivamme\nmiehist\u00f6ksi. Otin sen vuolisi puhutellakseni kapteeni Wilmotia kahden\nkesken, mutta huomasin pian, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli itsekin halukas j\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\nMadagaskarille ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n, saatuaan suuren omaisuuden omalle osalleen,\nsalaisesti aikoili tavalla tai toisella pujahtaa kotiin.\nMin\u00e4 huomauttelin sellaisen aikeen mahdottomuutta. H\u00e4n joko\njoutuisi Punaisella merell\u00e4 varkaiden ja murhaajien k\u00e4siin, jotka\neiv\u00e4t mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n antaisi noin suuren aarteen p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 talteen, tai\nenglantilaisten, hollantilaisten, ranskalaisten vangiksi, jotka\nvarmasti hirtt\u00e4isiv\u00e4t h\u00e4net merirosvona. Silt\u00e4 varalta, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n mietti\nAfrikan kautta paluuta, kuvailin h\u00e4nelle matkaa, jonka min\u00e4 olin\nt\u00e4st\u00e4 samasta paikasta tehnyt mantereen ylitse, sek\u00e4 sen suunnattomia\nvaikeuksia.\nMutta h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4ns\u00e4 ei pystynyt mik\u00e4\u00e4n; h\u00e4nen piti vain l\u00e4hte\u00e4\nPunaiselle merelle purrella, menn\u00e4 siell\u00e4 maihin ja vaeltaa maitse\nKairoon, jota matkaa ei ole enemp\u00e4\u00e4 kuin kahdeksankymment\u00e4 engl.\nPenikulmaa. Sielt\u00e4 h\u00e4n sanoi voivansa Aleksandrian kautta matkustaa\nlaivassa minne p\u00e4in maailmaa tahansa. Turhaan todistelin h\u00e4nelle,\nmiten suorastaan mahdotonta h\u00e4nen olisi sivuuttaa Mokkaa ja Jiddahia\ntulematta h\u00e4tyytetyksi ja rosvotuksi, mutta todisteluni vaikuttivat\nniin paljon sent\u00e4\u00e4n miehiin, ettei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n tahtonut l\u00e4hte\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nmukaansa. He sanoivat seuraavansa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 minne tahansa muuanne kuin\nilmeiseen ja ehdottomaan turmioon.\nWilmot suuttui puheistani ja lateli minulle tuimia sanoja. Min\u00e4\nvastasin vain neuvovani h\u00e4nt\u00e4 h\u00e4nen omaksi hyv\u00e4kseen, ja huomautin,\nett\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n ei ottanut puheitani silt\u00e4 kannalta, niin vika oli h\u00e4nen\neik\u00e4 minun. En kielt\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nt\u00e4 l\u00e4htem\u00e4st\u00e4 enk\u00e4 ollut miehi\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nhoukutellut kielt\u00e4ytym\u00e4\u00e4n. Mutta tulista luonnetta ei ole helppo\nj\u00e4\u00e4hdytell\u00e4. Kapteeni oli niin kiukuissaan, ett\u00e4 poistui meid\u00e4n\nseurastamme ja l\u00e4ksi miehist\u00f6ns\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4osan kanssa kapteeni Averyn\nleiriin. H\u00e4n yhtyi t\u00e4m\u00e4n v\u00e4keen ja vei kaiken saaliin mukanansa, mik\u00e4\nmuuten ei ollut oikein kauniisti tehty, sill\u00e4 olihan sovittu, ett\u00e4 me\njakaisimme kaiken saaliimme niin hyvin poissa olevina kuin mukanakin.\nMeid\u00e4n miehemme hiukan nurkuivat sit\u00e4, mutta min\u00e4 tyynnyttelin heit\u00e4\nparhaani mukaan, sanoen helposti saavamme yht\u00e4 paljon, jos meiss\u00e4 olisi\nmiest\u00e4. Ja olihan kapteeni Wilmot antanut meille hyv\u00e4n, esimerkin,\nsill\u00e4 saman s\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6n mukaan oli sopimus kaikesta vastaisesta saaliin\njaosta heid\u00e4n kanssaan lopussa. K\u00e4ytin t\u00e4t\u00e4 tilaisuutta antaakseni\nheille viittauksia tulevaisuudensuunnitelmistani. Ajattelin kuljeskella\nit\u00e4isell\u00e4 merell\u00e4 ja katsoa, emmek\u00f6 p\u00e4\u00e4sisi yht\u00e4 rikkaiksi kuin\nkapteeni Avery.\nMiehi\u00e4 miellytti avoin ja yritteli\u00e4s luonteeni niin suuresti, ett\u00e4\nhe vakuuttivat l\u00e4htev\u00e4ns\u00e4 minun kanssani vaikka maapallon ymp\u00e4ri\nkiert\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n; Wilmotin kanssa eiv\u00e4t n\u00e4m\u00e4 miehet taasen halunneet en\u00e4\u00e4\nolla miss\u00e4\u00e4n tekemisiss\u00e4. T\u00e4m\u00e4 joutui h\u00e4nen korviinsa ja sai h\u00e4net\nraivop\u00e4iss\u00e4\u00e4n uhkaamaan leikata kurkkuni poikki, jos maihin tulisin.\nEn ollut siit\u00e4 mill\u00e4nik\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta pidin varani ja k\u00e4vin harvoin ilman\nmelkoista seuruetta rannassa. Kapteeni Wilmot ja min\u00e4 tapasimme\ntoisemme kuitenkin viimein ja puhuimme asioista vakavasti. Min\u00e4\ntarjosin h\u00e4nelle purtta, menn\u00e4ksens\u00e4 minne mieli tekisi, ja ellei\nh\u00e4n siihen tyytyisi, niin saisi h\u00e4n ison laivamme ja min\u00e4 ottaisin\npurren. H\u00e4n kielt\u00e4ysi molemmista ja tahtoi minua vain j\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nelle\nkuusi puusepp\u00e4\u00e4, jotka minulla oli laivassani liikaa, auttamaan h\u00e4nen\nmiehi\u00e4ns\u00e4 rakentamaan valmiiksi aluksen, jonka haaksirikkoutuneet\nolivat alottaneet ennen meid\u00e4n sinne tuloamme. T\u00e4h\u00e4n min\u00e4 kernaasti\nsuostuin, ja luovutin h\u00e4nelle useita muitakin hy\u00f6dyllisi\u00e4 apulaisia.\nV\u00e4h\u00e4ss\u00e4 ajassa he rakensivat vankan kuunariprikin, joka pystyi\nkantamaan kaksitoista kanuunaa ja 200 miest\u00e4.\nMikin toimiin he ryhtyiv\u00e4t ja mit\u00e4 kapteeni Avery j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in puuhaili,\nse on liian pitk\u00e4llinen tarina t\u00e4ss\u00e4 kertoa, eik\u00e4 se ole minun asiani,\nkoskapa on omakin juttuni viel\u00e4 kesken.\nKYMMENES LUKU.\nRiistaretki\u00e4 it\u00e4isill\u00e4 vesill\u00e4.\nN\u00e4iss\u00e4 vastenmielisiss\u00e4 kinasteluissa vietimme noin viisi kuukautta.\nMaaliskuun loppupuolella l\u00e4ksin liikkeelle, mukanani iso laiva ja\nsiin\u00e4 nelj\u00e4viidett\u00e4 kanuunaa sek\u00e4 400 miest\u00e4, ja kahdeksallakymmenell\u00e4\nmiehell\u00e4 miehitetty pursi. Sivuuttaen Kap Komorinin, Malabarin\nrannikon etel\u00e4isimm\u00e4n niemekkeen, me kiersimme Ceylonin saaren ja\nj\u00e4imme joksikin aikaa vaanimaan saalista. Siell\u00e4 n\u00e4imme kolme isoa\nenglantilaista It\u00e4-Intian laivaa kotimatkalla Bengalista Englantiin,\ntai pikemmin Bombayhin ja Suratiin odottelemaan pasaatituulta.\nMe k\u00e4\u00e4nsimme tuuleen, nostimme englantilaisen sotalipun ja laivanviirin\nja asetuimme odottamaan heit\u00e4, kuin aikoisimme k\u00e4yd\u00e4 heid\u00e4n kimppuunsa.\nHe eiv\u00e4t pitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan voineet k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4, mit\u00e4 me olimme, vaikkakin\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t lippumme; arvatenkin he ensim\u00e4lt\u00e4 pitiv\u00e4t meit\u00e4 ranskalaisina.\nMutta heid\u00e4n l\u00e4hestyess\u00e4\u00e4n me piankin ilmaisimme oikean karvamme,\nnostaen isonmaston k\u00e4rkeen mustan lipun, jossa oli kaksi tikaria\nristikk\u00e4in.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 tehosi pian. Ensin he kohottivat sotalippunsa ja suuntasivat\nkulkunsa rivin\u00e4 meit\u00e4 kohti kuin aikoen k\u00e4yd\u00e4 taisteluun; maalta p\u00e4in\npuhaltelikin tuuli siihen yritykseen suotuisana. Mutta n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n\nvoimamme he taas loittonivat meist\u00e4 kaikin purjein, mit\u00e4 saattoivat\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4. Jos he olisivat tulleet likelle, niin olisimme heille antaneet\nodottamattomat tervehdykset, mutta n\u00e4in ollen ei meill\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ollut\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n halua ajaa heit\u00e4 takaa, vaan annoimme heid\u00e4n menn\u00e4 menojansa\nsamoista syist\u00e4, jotka olen jo aikaisemmin maininnut.\nMutta vaikka annoimme heid\u00e4n menn\u00e4, niin emme aikoneet p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4 muitakin\nyht\u00e4 helpolla. Jo seuraavana aamuna n\u00e4imme purjelaivan kiert\u00e4v\u00e4n Kap\nKomorinin ja n\u00e4k\u00f6j\u00e4\u00e4n ohjaavan samaa suuntaa kuin mekin. Emme ensin\ntienneet mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4 sille, sill\u00e4 kun oli maa paapuurin puolella, joten\nse h\u00e4tyytettyn\u00e4 voisi paeta mihin tahansa satamaan tai poukamaan.\nMutta t\u00e4t\u00e4 est\u00e4\u00e4ksemme l\u00e4hetimme me purren koettamaan p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 sen ja\nrannikon v\u00e4liin. Heti sen n\u00e4hty\u00e4\u00e4n laiva painautui rannemmaksi, ja\npurren kiit\u00e4ess\u00e4 sit\u00e4 kohti k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi se t\u00e4ysin purjein suoraan rantaa\ntavottamaan.\nPursi kuitenkin saavutti sen ja k\u00e4vi sen kanssa taistelemaan. Se\noli kymmenkanuunainen alus, portugalilaista rakennetta, mutta\nhollantilaisten kauppamiesten k\u00e4siss\u00e4 ja miehist\u00f6n\u00e4 hollantilaisia.\nNe olivat matkalla Persian lahdelta Bataviaan noutamaan mausteita ja\nmuita tavaroita. Purren miehist\u00f6 valtasi laivan ja penkoi sen sis\u00e4ll\u00f6n\nennen kuin me ehdimme perille. Sen lastina oli muutamia europalaisia\ntavaroita, melkoinen summa rahaa ja joku m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 helmi\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 vaikka\nme emme menneet lahdelle helmi\u00e4 vaanimaan, niin helmi\u00e4 tuli meid\u00e4n\nk\u00e4siimme lahdelta ja me saimme siit\u00e4kin tavarasta osuutemme. T\u00e4m\u00e4 oli\nrikas laiva ja tavarat vastasivat melkoista omaisuutta, rahoista ja\nhelmist\u00e4 puhumattakaan.\nMeill\u00e4 oli pitk\u00e4llinen neuvottelu, mit\u00e4 tekisimme miehille. Jos\nnimitt\u00e4in olisimme antaneet heid\u00e4n pitkitt\u00e4\u00e4 matkaansa Javan saarelle,\nniin olisimme h\u00e4lyytt\u00e4neet sik\u00e4l\u00e4isen hollantilaisen siirtolan,\njoka on verrattomasti voimakkain Intiassa, ja sulkeneet itselt\u00e4mme\nsill\u00e4 taholla tien. Mutta meh\u00e4n olimme p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neet poiketa sinnekin\np\u00e4in maailmaa, joskaan emme olleet tahtoneet sivuuttaa isoa Bengalin\nlahtea, miss\u00e4 olimme toivoneet tapaavamme runsaastikin saalista. Sen\nvuoksi ei meid\u00e4n sopinut toimittaa itsellemme v\u00e4ijytyst\u00e4 ennen sinne\ntuloamme; meid\u00e4n piti kulkea joko Malakan tai Sunda-salmen kautta, ja\nkumpaisessakin oli hyvin helppoa ehk\u00e4ist\u00e4 meid\u00e4t.\nMeid\u00e4n aprikoidessamme t\u00e4t\u00e4 isossa kajuutissa, oli miehill\u00e4 sama\nv\u00e4ittely keulap\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4. Enemmist\u00f6 n\u00e4ytti siell\u00e4 puoltaneen kovaonnisten\nhollantilaisten paiskaamista meren helmaan. William parka, kveekari,\noli t\u00e4st\u00e4 kovasti huolissaan ja tuli puhelemaan siit\u00e4 minulle.\n\"Kuulehan\", kysyy William, \"mit\u00e4 teet n\u00e4ille hallussasi oleville\nhollantilaisille? Annat niiden kaiketikin menn\u00e4?\"\n\"Mutta\", vastaan min\u00e4, \"William, neuvoisitko sin\u00e4 minua antamaan heid\u00e4n\nmenn\u00e4?\"\n\"En\", empi William, \"en voi sanoa, ett\u00e4 sinun sopii antaa niiden\nmenn\u00e4; menn\u00e4 edelleen Bataviaan nimitt\u00e4in, koska ei ole eduksesi,\nett\u00e4 Batavian hollantilaiset saisivat tiet\u00e4\u00e4 sinun oleskelevan n\u00e4ill\u00e4\nvesill\u00e4.\"\n\"No sitten en tied\u00e4 muuta keinoa kuin heit\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4t yli laidan. Sin\u00e4\ntied\u00e4t, William, ett\u00e4 hollantilainen ui kuin kala; ja kaikki v\u00e4kemme\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 on samaa mielt\u00e4 kuin min\u00e4kin.\"\nOlin p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt, ettei niin menetelt\u00e4isi, mutta halusin kuulla mit\u00e4\nWilliam sanoisi. H\u00e4n vastasi vakavasti:\n\"Jos kaikki laivan miehet olisivat sit\u00e4 mielt\u00e4, niin en konsanaan\nuskoisi sinun sellaista ajattelevan, sill\u00e4 olen kaikissa muissa\ntapauksissa kuullut sinun vastustavan julmuutta.\"\n\"Se on totta, William\", my\u00f6nsin min\u00e4; \"mutta mit\u00e4 sitte tekisitte\nniille?\"\n\"Eik\u00f6 ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n muuta keinoa kuin murhata heid\u00e4t?\" valitti William.\n\"Nuo miehet eiv\u00e4t ole tehneet sinulle mit\u00e4\u00e4n vahinkoa; sin\u00e4 sit\u00e4vastoin\nolet riist\u00e4nyt heilt\u00e4 suuren aarteen. Mill\u00e4 tekosyyll\u00e4 tuhoaisit sin\u00e4\nheid\u00e4t?\"\n\"\u00c4l\u00e4 puhu sellaisia, William\", tuumasin min\u00e4; \"syyt\u00e4 on minulla\nkylliksi, jos siit\u00e4 vain on puhe. Onhan itsens\u00e4 s\u00e4ilytt\u00e4minen kylliksi\np\u00e4tev\u00e4 syy. Mutta varsinaisena pulmana t\u00e4ss\u00e4 on se, etten tied\u00e4 mit\u00e4\nheille tekisin est\u00e4\u00e4kseni heid\u00e4t l\u00f6rp\u00f6ttelem\u00e4st\u00e4.\"\nWilliamin ja minun puhellessa tuomitsi koko laivan v\u00e4est\u00f6 onnettomat\nhollantilaiset julkisesti kuolemaan. Niin kiihke\u00e4sti vaativat miehet\nsit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 alkoivat \u00e4\u00e4nekk\u00e4\u00e4sti h\u00e4list\u00e4, ja kuullessaan Williamin\nolevan vastaan vannoivat muutamat heist\u00e4, ett\u00e4 vankien piti kuolla ja\nWilliamin hukkua heid\u00e4n mukanaan, jos h\u00e4n pysyisi niskuroimisessaan.\nKatsoin ajan tulleen heid\u00e4n julman suunnitelmansa lopettamiselle ja\nkutsuin hollantilaiset luokseni, puhellakseni hiukan heid\u00e4n kanssaan.\nEnsiksikin kysyin, yhtyisiv\u00e4tk\u00f6 he joukkoomme. Kaksi tarjoutui heti,\nmutta muut nelj\u00e4toista kielt\u00e4ysiv\u00e4t.\n\"No minne sitte haluaisitte menn\u00e4?\" kysyin.\nHe tahtoivat minua laskemaan heid\u00e4t maihin Ceylonin saarelle. En\nsanonut voivani p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4 heit\u00e4 mihink\u00e4\u00e4n hollantilaiseen siirtolaan,\nja heid\u00e4nkin t\u00e4ytyi my\u00f6nt\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kieltooni oli perusteellinen aihe.\nIlmotin p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neeni pelastaa heid\u00e4t miesteni verenhimoisilta aikeilta,\njos mahdollista, ja laskea heid\u00e4t maihin jossakin englantilaisessa\nsiirtolassa Bengalin lahden varrella tai siirt\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4t ensim\u00e4iseen\nenglantilaiseen laivaan, mink\u00e4 tapaisin Sunda- ja Malakan salmesta\np\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ni, mutta en ennemmin. Takaisin tullessani, sanoin, en nimitt\u00e4in\nv\u00e4lttelisi Batavian hollantilaisten kostonyrityksi\u00e4, minulla kun\noli melkoinen taisteluvoima; mutta en voinut sallia, ett\u00e4 viesti jo\nmenomatkalla saapuisi sinne ja pelottaisi kaikki rikkaat kauppalaivat\npois v\u00e4yl\u00e4lt\u00e4.\nHeid\u00e4n laivansa kohtalon ratkaisimme helposti; senh\u00e4n saattoi\nainoastaan joko polttaa tai ty\u00f6nt\u00e4\u00e4 ajelehtamaan maihin. Me valitsimme\nj\u00e4lkim\u00e4isen keinon ja n\u00e4imme sen jo kahden tunnin kuluttua ajautuvan\ner\u00e4\u00e4seen poukamaan Kap Komorinin taakse. Itse purjehdimme Ceylonin\nymp\u00e4ri Koromandelin rannikolle.\nKuljeskelimme siell\u00e4 pitkin rannikkoa, viel\u00e4p\u00e4 niin likell\u00e4 sit\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nsaatoimme pit\u00e4\u00e4 silm\u00e4ll\u00e4 Fort. St. Davidin, Fort. St. Georgen ja muiden\nsik\u00e4l\u00e4isten siirtolain ulkosatamissa ankkuroitsevia laivoja, k\u00e4ytt\u00e4en\nenglantilaista lippua silloin kun l\u00e4henimme hollantilaisia siirtoloita\nja hollantilaista lippua englantilaisten n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 rannikolla\ntapasimme saaliiksemme kuitenkin ainoastaan kaksi pient\u00e4 alusta,\njotka olivat matkalla Golcondasta Bengalin lahden poikki, lastinaan\nkarttuunia, musliinia ja kirjailtuja silkkej\u00e4 Acheeniin ja muihin\nMalakan rannikon satamiin. Ne saivat menn\u00e4 menojansa, niiss\u00e4 kun oli\npelkki\u00e4 hinduja miehist\u00f6in\u00e4.\nMutta lahden pohjukassa kohtasimme Mogulin hoville kuuluvan ison\nkaksimastoisen laivan, jossa oli paljon matkustajia Sumatralta pyh\u00e4lle\nGangesin virralle. Riista oli tosiaankin ottamisen arvoinen, ja me\nsaimme siit\u00e4 niin paljon kultaa -- j\u00e4tt\u00e4en koskematta muut tavarat,\njoista emme v\u00e4litt\u00e4neet, eritt\u00e4inkin pippurin --, ett\u00e4 koko risteilymme\noli loppua. Melkein kaikki mieheni nimitt\u00e4in sanoivat, ett\u00e4 me olimme\nnyt kyllin rikkaat, ja tahtoivat l\u00e4hdett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi takaisin Madagaskarille.\nMutta minulla oli viel\u00e4 muita aikeita mieless\u00e4ni, ja kun ryhdyin\npuhelemaan heid\u00e4n kanssaan ja kannustin William yst\u00e4v\u00e4n niinik\u00e4\u00e4n\npanemaan parhaansa, istutimme me heid\u00e4n syd\u00e4miins\u00e4 edelleen niin\nkultaisia toiveita, ett\u00e4 he piankin vieh\u00e4ttyiv\u00e4t pitkitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n matkaa.\nL\u00e4hinn\u00e4 toimenpiteen\u00e4ni oli j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 kaikki Malakan, Singaporen ja\nSundan vaaralliset salmet, miss\u00e4 emme olisi voineet odottaa suurtakaan\nsaalista, paitsi jos olisimme tavanneet satunnaisia europalaisia\nlaivoja, jotka kuitenkin olisivat tuimasti taistelleet. Tosin olimme\nhyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 taistelukunnossa ja miehuutta meill\u00e4 oli uhkarohkeuteen asti,\nmutta nyth\u00e4n olimme rikkaita ja tahdoimme rikastua lis\u00e4\u00e4. Otimme sen\nvuoksi ohjeeksemme, ett\u00e4 niin kauvan kuin rikkauksia oli saatavissa\ntaistelutta, meill\u00e4 ei ollut syyt\u00e4 antautua alttiiksi mieshukalle.\nBengalin lahdelta l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4mme pist\u00e4ysimme Sumatran rannikolla pieneen\nsatamaan, jonka pohjukassa oleva pikku kaupunki oli pelkkien malaijien\nasuma. Siell\u00e4 otimme varastoon vett\u00e4 ja ison m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n tynnyreihin\nmausteilla s\u00e4ilytetty\u00e4 ja ilmanalan kuumuudesta huolimatta hyvin\nsuolattua oivallista l\u00e4ski\u00e4. Viel\u00e4p\u00e4 otimme aluksiimme nelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4\nel\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 sikaa, joista saimme tuoretta ruokaa, sek\u00e4 niiden ravinnoksi\nkaikenlaisia maantuotteita, kuten jamsseja, perunoita ja er\u00e4\u00e4nlaista\nrehuriissi\u00e4. Ostimmepa herkuiksemme tavattoman m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n hanhiakin ja\nkanoja, muistaakseni kerrassaan kaksituhatta, niin ett\u00e4 niist\u00e4 aluksi\noli hyvinkin suurta kiusaa.\nNyt oli edess\u00e4ni kauvan hautomani suunnitelman suorittaminen,\ntunkeutuminen hollantilaisten Maustesaarien sekaan katsomaan mit\u00e4\nh\u00e4ijyytt\u00e4 siell\u00e4 saisi aikaan. Niinp\u00e4 l\u00e4ksimme merelle elokuun\n12. p:n\u00e4, kuljimme p\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan poikki 17. p:n\u00e4 ja suuntasimme\nkulkumme suoraan etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti. Suotuisilla tuulilla p\u00e4\u00e4simme Molukki-\neli Maustesaarten vesille, miss\u00e4 k\u00e4ytimme hyv\u00e4ksemme sik\u00e4l\u00e4isi\u00e4\ns\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6llisi\u00e4 monsuunituulia.\nNoilla vesill\u00e4 olevien saarten suunnaton lukuisuus h\u00e4mmennytti meit\u00e4\nsuuresti, ja me pujottelimme niiden lomitse hyvinkin ty\u00f6l\u00e4\u00e4sti. Sitten\nsuuntasimme matkamme Filippinien pohjoispuolelle, jolloin meill\u00e4 oli\nkaksinaiset saaliin mahdollisuudet. Saatoimme nimitt\u00e4in v\u00e4ijyskell\u00e4\nAcapulcosta Uuden Espanjan rannikolta tulevia espanjalaisia laivoja,\nja tiesimme varmasti tapaavamme joitakuita kiinalaisia aluksia joko\nmatkalla Kiinasta, jolloin niill\u00e4 olisi kallisarvoisia tavaralasteja ja\npaljon rahaa, tahi palaamassa Kiinaan, lastinansa muskottip\u00e4hkin\u00f6it\u00e4 ja\nh\u00f6ystenelikoita Bandalta ja Ternatelta sek\u00e4 muilta saalilta.\nArvailumme osuivat ihan paikalleen. Dammerin ja Bandan saarten\nv\u00e4lill\u00e4 kohtasimme hollantilaisen kaksimastoisen aluksen, joka oli\nmenossa Amboynaan. Helposti valtasimme sen ja otimme siit\u00e4 noin\nkuusitoista tonnia muskottip\u00e4hkin\u00f6it\u00e4, jonkun verran ruokavaroja\nja heid\u00e4n ampuma-aseensa, sill\u00e4 heill\u00e4 ei ollut kanunia; sitten\np\u00e4\u00e4stimme heid\u00e4t menem\u00e4\u00e4n. Sielt\u00e4 purjehdimme suoraan Banda-saaren\nseuduille ja anastimme pienemmiss\u00e4 eriss\u00e4 kaikkiaan kaksitoista tonnia\nmuskottip\u00e4hkin\u00f6it\u00e4 lis\u00e4\u00e4, enimm\u00e4n osan rannalta ja muutamia tonneja\ner\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pienest\u00e4 alkuasukasten purresta, joka oli menossa Giloloon.\nOlisimme julkisesti tehneet ostokauppaa alkuasukasten kanssa, mutta\nhollantilaiset olivat herroiksi siell\u00e4 tekeytynein\u00e4 kielt\u00e4neet\nasukkaita rupeamasta mihink\u00e4\u00e4n tekemisiin muukalaisten kanssa, pit\u00e4en\nheit\u00e4 niin ankarassa kurissa, etteiv\u00e4t he mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n uskaltaneet olla\ntottelemattomia.\nP\u00e4\u00e4timme l\u00e4hte\u00e4 Ternatelle koettamaan t\u00e4ydent\u00e4\u00e4 lastiamme\nh\u00f6ysteneilikoilla. K\u00e4\u00e4nnyimme siis pohjoista kohti, mutta huomasimme\nniin sotkeutuneemme ep\u00e4lukuisten saarten sokkeloon, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n\nluotsitta ollen oli pakko luopua aikeestamme ja py\u00f6rt\u00e4\u00e4 takaisin,\nkatsellaksemme mit\u00e4 eteemme sattuisi muiden sik\u00e4l\u00e4isten saarten vesill\u00e4.\nEnsim\u00e4inen seikkailumme oli p\u00e4\u00e4tty\u00e4 huonosti meille kaikille.\nEtumaisena kulkeva purtemme ilmoitti merkeill\u00e4 n\u00e4hneens\u00e4 laivan, ja\nj\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in toisen sek\u00e4 viel\u00e4 kolmannenkin. Me lis\u00e4simme purjeita\nsaavuttaaksemme sen, mutta ajaa t\u00e4r\u00e4ytimme \u00e4kki\u00e4 kauhuksemme\nvedenalaisiin kareihin. Per\u00e4sin pirstausi kiveen ja laivaa k\u00e4vi melkein\nmahdottomaksi ohjata; teimme kiireen kautta kiinni kaikki purjeemme,\npaitsi fokka- ja isonmaston m\u00e4rssypurjetta, ja ajauduimme it\u00e4\u00e4\nkohti, t\u00e4hystellen jotakin poukamaa, miss\u00e4 voisimme k\u00e4yd\u00e4 korjaamaan\nvaurioitamme. T\u00e4m\u00e4 tapaturma pelasti k\u00e4sist\u00e4mme nuo kolme alusta,\njoiden j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in kuulimme olleen pieni\u00e4 hollantilaisia kuunareita\nmatkalla Bataviasta Bandaan ja Amboynaan ottamaan lastikseen mausteita,\njoten niiss\u00e4 ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 oli melkoinen summa rahaa.\nAnkkuroitsimme pienelle saarelle l\u00e4helle Bandaa ja viivyimme siell\u00e4\nkolmetoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Saarella ei ollut mukavaa telakkapaikkaa, joten\nl\u00e4hetimme purren haeskelemaan sellaista. Sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin otimme varastoon\nhyv\u00e4\u00e4 vett\u00e4, joitakuita ruokavaroja, juuria ja hedelmi\u00e4, sek\u00e4 tuntuvan\ner\u00e4n h\u00f6ysteneilikoita ja muskottikukkia, joita saimme salaisesti\nostelluksi alkuasukkailta.\nVihdoin palasi purtemme ja me l\u00e4ksimme sen l\u00f6yt\u00e4m\u00e4lle ankkuripaikalle.\nIrrotimme oitis purjeemme ja teimme niist\u00e4 saarelle seitsem\u00e4n tai\nkahdeksan teltti\u00e4; n\u00e4ihin vietiin m\u00e4rssytankomme, kanuunamme, ruoka- ja\nampumavaramme. Nousuvedell\u00e4 laskimme laivan kovalle rantahiekalle ja\nasetimme tukiseip\u00e4it\u00e4 molemmin puolin. Matalalla vedell\u00e4 se oli melkein\nkuivalla maalla.\nPaikkasimme pohjaan syntyneen vuodon ja samalla kaavimme pohjan\nkokonaan puhtaaksi, se kun oli pitk\u00e4llisest\u00e4 vesill\u00e4 olosta jo kovin\nt\u00f6rkyinen. Pursi siistiytyi niinik\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta p\u00e4\u00e4si valmiiksi ennen\nmeit\u00e4 ja risteili kymmenkunta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 saaristossa, kuitenkaan mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nsaalista tapaamatta.\nOlimme tuskin j\u00e4lleen l\u00e4hteneet yhdess\u00e4 liikkeelle navakalla\nl\u00e4nsilounaisella, kun yht'\u00e4kki\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4mme kohdalla leijuvasta mustasta\npilvest\u00e4 r\u00e4isk\u00e4hti niin hirvitt\u00e4v\u00e4 ja pitk\u00e4llinen salamanpurkaus,\nett\u00e4 meist\u00e4 kaikista tuntui laiva leimahtaneen tuleen. V\u00e4l\u00e4hdys\nhuokui kasvoihimme sellaista kuumuutta, ett\u00e4 monet saivat rakkoja\nihoonsa. Eik\u00e4 siin\u00e4 kaikki; ilman j\u00e4r\u00e4hdys oli niin voimakas, ett\u00e4\nlaivamme tutisi kuin kanuunalaidallisen saaneena. Ilmavirran ponnahdus\npys\u00e4hdytti siin\u00e4 silm\u00e4nr\u00e4p\u00e4yksess\u00e4 kulkumme, purjeet ammahtivat\ntaaksep\u00e4in ja koko aluksemme tuntui todella ukkosen iskem\u00e4lt\u00e4.\nSamassa seurasi niin huumaava jyr\u00e4hdys, etten usko ihmiskorvan viel\u00e4\nkonsanaan moista kuulleen. Tuskin olisi satatuhatta ruutitynnyri\u00e4\nr\u00e4j\u00e4ht\u00e4nyt suuremmalla pauhulla; monelta miehelt\u00e4mme lumpeutuivat\nkorvat. On mahdoton kuvata sen hetken kauhua. Kaikki olivat kuin\nhalvautuneita; ainoastaan yst\u00e4v\u00e4mme William s\u00e4ilytti toimintakykyns\u00e4.\nEllei h\u00e4n olisi kissan ketteryydell\u00e4 kylm\u00e4verisesti juossut p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\nirti fokka-jalusnuoraa, pingoittamaan fokkaraa'an tuulenpuoleista\nprassia ja vet\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n m\u00e4rssypurjeita alas, niin olisimme varmasti\nmenett\u00e4neet kaikki mastomme ja kenties joutuneet vesivuorten\nyll\u00e4tt\u00e4miksi.\nMin\u00e4 puolestani kyll\u00e4 n\u00e4in vaaran, mutta en voinut hievahtaakaan\nsit\u00e4 torjumaan. Olin lyyhistytt\u00e4v\u00e4n h\u00e4mmennyksen herpaama, ja voin\nsanoa nyt ensi kerran alkaneeni tuntea entisen el\u00e4m\u00e4ni ajattelemisen\nher\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4 kauhistusta. Luulin taivaan tuominneen minut sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4\nvajoamaan ikuiseen kadotukseen, hirmustuen viel\u00e4 sit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Jumala oli\nerityisesti ottanut minut kostavan k\u00e4tens\u00e4 alle. My\u00f6nsin rangaistukseni\noikeaksi, mutta en laisinkaan tuntenut viihdytt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 katumusta; mielt\u00e4ni\nj\u00e4rkytti rangaistus, mutta ei rikos; kosto, mutta ei syyllisyyteni.\nV\u00e4hitellen tointuessamme tunsimme erinomaista tyytyv\u00e4isyytt\u00e4 siit\u00e4,\nettei kukaan ollut menett\u00e4nyt henke\u00e4ns\u00e4; laivakaan ei ollut saanut\nmuuta vahinkoa kuin ett\u00e4 keulap\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 oli osa pirstautunut. Niinp\u00e4\nl\u00e4ksi laiva kulkemaan kuten ennenkin, enk\u00e4 voi kielt\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 me olimme\nkaikki jokseenkin samanlaisia kuin sekin; ensim\u00e4isen h\u00e4mm\u00e4styksemme\nh\u00e4lvennytty\u00e4 ja n\u00e4hdess\u00e4mme laivan taas tukevana kynt\u00e4v\u00e4n aaltoja\nolimme pian sama paatunut joukkue kuin ennenkin, ja min\u00e4 muiden mukana.\nMe ohjasimme suuntamme it\u00e4pohjoiseen ja pohjoiseen, kuljimme j\u00e4lleen\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan poikki ja purjehdimme Mindanaon ja Manillan vesille,\nFilippi-saarista t\u00e4rkeimpien. Ammattimme p\u00e4\u00e4si nyt uudelleen alkamaan\nvasta Manillan pohjoispuolella, miss\u00e4 valtasimme kolme japanilaista\nlaivaa. Kaksi niist\u00e4 oli toimittanut ostoksensa ja kuljettivat\nnyt kotiin p\u00e4in h\u00f6ysteneilikoita, kaneelia, muskottip\u00e4hkin\u00f6it\u00e4 ja\nmuuta sellaista, sek\u00e4 kaikenlaisia europalaisia tavaroita, joita\nespanjalaiset laivat olivat tuoneet Acapulcosta. Niiss\u00e4 oli yhteens\u00e4\nkahdeksannelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 tonnia muskottip\u00e4hkin\u00f6it\u00e4, viisi tai kuusi tonnia\nh\u00f6ysteneilikoita ja saman verran kaneelia. Me otimme mausteet, mutta\nemme paljoakaan koskeneet europalaisiin tavaroihin, pit\u00e4en niit\u00e4 meille\narvottomina. J\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in olimme siit\u00e4 kuitenkin kovin pahoillamme ja\nosasimme seuraavalla kerralla olla viisaampia.\nKolmas japanilainen oli paras saalis; siin\u00e4 nimitt\u00e4in oli rahaa\nja suuri m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 rahaksi ly\u00f6m\u00e4t\u00f6nt\u00e4 kultaa, jolla oli aikomus ostaa\nmausteita. Me korjasimme kullan talteemme emmek\u00e4 tehneet laivalle muuta\nvahinkoa. Aikomuksenamme ei ollut viipy\u00e4 kauvemmin t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 p\u00e4in, vaan\nk\u00e4\u00e4nnyimme Kiinaa kohti.\nOlimme juuri j\u00e4tt\u00e4neet Filippiinit taaksemme ja k\u00e4\u00e4ntyneet Formosan\nsaarelle p\u00e4in, mutta tuuli puhalteli niin navakasti vastaamme\nit\u00e4pohjoisesta, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n oli pakko per\u00e4yty\u00e4 Laconiaan, joka on\nsaarista pohjoisin. Valitsimme siell\u00e4 hyv\u00e4n ankkuripaikan ja ryhdyimme\nhankkimaan ruokavaroja, joita v\u00e4est\u00f6 meille hyvin auliisti toimittikin.\nOleskelimme siell\u00e4 toukokuun alkuun, jolloin kuulimme Kiinan kanssa\nkauppaa k\u00e4yvien laivojen l\u00e4htev\u00e4n liikkeelle; pohjoiset monsuunituulet\nnimitt\u00e4in p\u00e4\u00e4ttyv\u00e4t viimeist\u00e4\u00e4n huhtikuulla ja k\u00e4\u00e4ntyv\u00e4t Kiinaan p\u00e4in\nmy\u00f6t\u00e4isiksi. Vuokrasimme sen vuoksi muutamia nopeita alkuasukasten\npurjeveneit\u00e4 l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n Manillaan ja tuomaan meille tiedon, milloin\nsielt\u00e4 l\u00e4htisi noita aluksia liikkeelle. Tietojemme mukaan j\u00e4rjestimme\nasiat niin hyvin, ett\u00e4 kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 vesill\u00e4 oltuamme tapasimme niist\u00e4\nkerrassaan yksitoista. Pahaksi onneksi jouduimme liian aikaisin ilmi ja\nsaimme anastetuksi vain kolme; t\u00e4h\u00e4n tyydyimme, pitkitt\u00e4en matkaamme\nFormosaa kohti. N\u00e4ist\u00e4 kolmesta laivasta saimme niin runsaan m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n\nmausteita ja hopeaa, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n lopultakin t\u00e4ytyi tunnustaa jo\nsaaneemme kylliksemme aarteita.\nIlmotin miehist\u00f6lle etsiv\u00e4ni Formosan saarelta vain tilaisuutta\nmuuttaakseni mausteemme ja europalaiset tavaramme k\u00e4yv\u00e4ksi rahaksi,\nk\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4ksemme sitte etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti, jolloin pohjoiset monsuunituulet\nkenties jo my\u00f6skin alkaisivat. Kahdentoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua n\u00e4imme\net\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 Formosan, mutta tuuli painoi meid\u00e4t saaren etel\u00e4k\u00e4rjen taakse\nja melkein Kiinan rannikolle. Siell\u00e4 olimme hiukan ymm\u00e4ll\u00e4, sill\u00e4\nenglantilaiset siirtolat eiv\u00e4t olleet kaukana ja meid\u00e4n saattoi k\u00e4yd\u00e4\npakolliseksi taistella sik\u00e4l\u00e4isten laivojen kanssa. Sotavoimaa meill\u00e4\nkyll\u00e4 oli, muutta ei erityisemp\u00e4\u00e4 halua voimien mittelyyn. Meid\u00e4n\nt\u00e4ytyi tietysti edet\u00e4 pohjoiseen p\u00e4in ja pysytell\u00e4 rannikosta niin\nkaukana kuin k\u00e4vi p\u00e4ins\u00e4.\nJonkun aikaa purjehdittuamme l\u00e4ksimme ajamaan takaa pient\u00e4 kiinalaista\nkuunariparkkia ja tavotimmekin sen. Se oli matkalla Formosan saarelle\nilman lastia; mutta siin\u00e4 matkusti kolme kiinalaista kauppiasta, jotka\nkertoivat minulle olevansa menossa tapaamaan isoa tonkinilaista laivaa\ner\u00e4\u00e4seen formosalaiseen jokisuistoon. Sielt\u00e4 oli heill\u00e4 aikomuksena\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 Filippi-saarille, tuolla laivalla viem\u00e4\u00e4n silkki\u00e4, musliinia,\nkarttuunia ja muita kiinalaisia tuotteita, ostaakseen niill\u00e4 mausteita\nja europalaisia tavaroita.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 sopi mainiosti meid\u00e4n tarkotukseemme; p\u00e4\u00e4tin nyt luopua\nmerirosvon ammatista ja ly\u00f6tt\u00e4yty\u00e4 kauppiaaksi. Kerroin siis heille,\nmit\u00e4 tavaroita meill\u00e4 oli mukanamme, ja tarjouduin tekem\u00e4\u00e4n kauppoja\nheid\u00e4n kanssaan. Ehdotukseni miellytti heit\u00e4 suuresti, mutta he eiv\u00e4t\ntahtoneet mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n rohjeta luottaa meihin. Pelko ei ollutkaan aivan\naiheeton, sill\u00e4 me olimme jo riist\u00e4neet heilt\u00e4 mit\u00e4 otettavaa oli.\nToiselta puolen olimme mekin yht\u00e4 ep\u00e4uskoisia emmek\u00e4 tienneet oikein\nmit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4. Mutta William kveekari sai meid\u00e4t vakuutetuksi. H\u00e4n sanoi\nkauppiasten n\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4n rehellisilt\u00e4 miehilt\u00e4 ja huomautti, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n\netunsa vaati heit\u00e4 pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n sanansa, koskapa se s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4isi heilt\u00e4 pitk\u00e4n\nmatkan ja he p\u00e4\u00e4sisiv\u00e4t meid\u00e4n kanssamme kaupoista sovittuansa heti\npalaamaan parhaillaan vallitsevilla my\u00f6t\u00e4isill\u00e4 tuulilla lastinensa\nKiinaan. Tosin j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in huomasimme heid\u00e4n aikovan Japaniin, mutta\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 oli yhdentekev\u00e4\u00e4, sill\u00e4 he s\u00e4\u00e4stiv\u00e4t kaikessa tapauksessa\nv\u00e4hint\u00e4\u00e4n kahdeksan kuukauden matkan. William esitti, ett\u00e4 kauppiaista\nj\u00e4isi laivaamme kaksi panttivangeiksi ja ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n alukseensa\nlastattaisiin meid\u00e4n tavaroitamme osa, jonka kolmas veisi siihen\nsatamaan, miss\u00e4 heit\u00e4 odotti laiva. J\u00e4tetty\u00e4\u00e4n mausteet sinne h\u00e4n toisi\nmeille sellaista tavaraa mit\u00e4 halusimme itsellemme vaihtaa.\nN\u00e4in p\u00e4\u00e4tettiin, ja William uskalsi l\u00e4hte\u00e4 mukaan, mit\u00e4 en min\u00e4\npuolestani olisi tehnyt, enk\u00e4 olisi mielell\u00e4ni sallinut h\u00e4nenk\u00e4\u00e4n\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4, mutta h\u00e4n piti lujasti kiinni siit\u00e4 vakaumuksesta, ett\u00e4\nheid\u00e4n etunsa vaati heit\u00e4 kohtelemaan h\u00e4nt\u00e4 yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisesti. Me\nlaskimme ankkurimme er\u00e4\u00e4n pienen saaren suojaan ja odottelimme\nsiell\u00e4 kolmetoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, lopulta jo hyvinkin huolestuneina William\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4mme, sill\u00e4 he olivat taanneet ehtiv\u00e4ns\u00e4 takaisin nelj\u00e4ss\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4. Silloin n\u00e4imme kolmen purjealuksen l\u00e4hestyv\u00e4n meit\u00e4 ja\nasetuimme puolustautumaan; mutta sitte huomasimme etumaisena sen\naluksen, jossa William oli l\u00e4htenyt, ja siin\u00e4 liehui valkea lippu.\nWilliam tuli pienell\u00e4 veneell\u00e4 luoksemme, mukanaan kiinalainen kauppias\nja kaksi muuta kauppiasta, jotka tuntuivat toimivan kaikkien muiden\npankkiireina.\nWilliamia oli kohdeltu kaikella mahdollisella yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyydell\u00e4 ja\nvilpitt\u00f6myydell\u00e4. H\u00e4n oli saanut tavaroistaan t\u00e4yden maksun kullassa\nja tuonut mukanaan sellaista tavaraa, jota tiesi meid\u00e4n vaihtavan\nitsellemme. He olivat p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neet tuoda ison satamassa olleen laivan\nluoksemme harjottamaan suoranaista kauppaa kanssamme, ja William oli\nmeid\u00e4n nimess\u00e4mme luvannut, ett\u00e4 me emme k\u00e4ytt\u00e4isi heit\u00e4 kohtaan mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nv\u00e4kivaltaa emmek\u00e4 pid\u00e4tt\u00e4isi ainoatakaan heid\u00e4n laivaansa kauppojen\np\u00e4\u00e4tytty\u00e4. Min\u00e4 vakuutin yritt\u00e4v\u00e4mme voittaa heid\u00e4t yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyydess\u00e4.\nKolmas alus oli syrj\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4in kuullut meid\u00e4n olevan halukkaita\ntekem\u00e4\u00e4n kauppaa ja tullut tuomaan meille tarjolle ruokavaroja,\njotka meille todella kelpasivatkin. Siten syntyi avoimella merell\u00e4\nvilkkaat markkinat, joilla meid\u00e4n mausteemme ja europalaiset tavaramme\ntuottivat runsaasti viisikymment\u00e4tuhatta unssia kultaa ja jonkun\nverran tarveaineita. Vapautimme panttivangit ja annoimme noille\nkolmelle kauppiaalle kaksitoistasataa naulaa muskottip\u00e4hkin\u00f6it\u00e4 ja\ntoisen mokoman h\u00f6ysteneilikoita korvaukseksi siit\u00e4 mit\u00e4 olimme heilt\u00e4\nottaneet. Kaikki erosimme siten erinomaisen tyytyv\u00e4isin\u00e4.\nAhnaimmankin mielen t\u00e4ytyi tyyty\u00e4 risteilymme tulokseen; miehemme\nsanoivatkin, etteiv\u00e4t he mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n huolisi lis\u00e4\u00e4. Hollantilaisten\nsilm\u00e4ll\u00e4pit\u00e4mi\u00e4 salmia v\u00e4ltt\u00e4\u00e4ksemme p\u00e4\u00e4timme purjehtia Filippisaarten\nit\u00e4puolitse etel\u00e4\u00e4 kohti Kauriin k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00f6piirin etel\u00e4puolelle ja\nsik\u00e4l\u00e4isill\u00e4 vaihtelevilla tuulilla viiletell\u00e4 l\u00e4nteen p\u00e4in, aavan\nIntian valtameren poikitse. N\u00e4in suunnatonta matkaa yritt\u00e4\u00e4ksemme\noli meid\u00e4n poikettava maihin Mindanaon saarelle, Filippineist\u00e4\netel\u00e4isimm\u00e4lle, varustautumaan viel\u00e4 runsaammilla ruokavaroilla.\nL\u00e4ksimme liikkeelle syyskuun 28. p:n\u00e4, mutta v\u00e4lill\u00e4 pakotti ankara\nmyrsky meid\u00e4t pysyttelem\u00e4\u00e4n kuusitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4n tuntemattoman\nsaaren suojassa, joten matka Mindanaolle vei meilt\u00e4 yhdeks\u00e4n viikkoa.\nSaaren etel\u00e4isimm\u00e4lt\u00e4 niemekkeelt\u00e4 otimme vett\u00e4 ja muutamia lehmi\u00e4,\nsill\u00e4 ilmanala oli niin kuuma, ettemme yritt\u00e4neet suolata lihoja\npitemm\u00e4ksi aikaa kuin pariksi kolmeksi viikoksi. Jatkoimme matkaa\netel\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in, kulkien p\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajan yli, ja etenimme pitkin Uuden\nGuinean rannikkoa, miss\u00e4 kahdeksannella etel\u00e4isell\u00e4 leveysasteella\nj\u00e4lleenkin poikkesimme maihin, saadaksemme vett\u00e4 ja ruokavaroja. Siell\u00e4\nn\u00e4imme asukkaita, mutta n\u00e4m\u00e4 pakenivat meit\u00e4 eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 antautuneet\nmihink\u00e4\u00e4n tekemisiin kanssamme. Yh\u00e4 etel\u00e4\u00e4n pyrkien j\u00e4timme taaksemme\nkaikki kartoillemme merkityt seudut, koillistuulilla edeten\nseitsem\u00e4nnelletoista leveysasteelle saakka.\nSiell\u00e4 n\u00e4imme l\u00e4nnen puolella maata, ja kun olimme jo kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4\npit\u00e4neet sen rannikkoa n\u00e4kyviss\u00e4mme, niin aloimme pelj\u00e4t\u00e4, ettemme\nl\u00f6yt\u00e4isik\u00e4\u00e4n avointa tiet\u00e4 l\u00e4nteen p\u00e4in, vaan olisimme pakotetut\nlopultakin per\u00e4ytym\u00e4\u00e4n Molukkisaaristoon. Mutta vihdoin huomasimme\nmaan loppuvan, meri avautui etel\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja lounaassa, ja mahtava etel\u00e4st\u00e4\nvy\u00f6ryilev\u00e4 maininki ilmaisi meille, ettei sill\u00e4 taholla ollut maata\ntavoteltavissa.\nLounaista suuntaa kulkien saavutimme Kauriin k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00f6piirin, tavaten\nvaihtelevia tuulia. Sitte k\u00e4\u00e4nnyimme suoraan l\u00e4ntt\u00e4 kohti ja pidimme\nsuuntamme noin kaksikymment\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, jolloin havaitsimme maata\nedess\u00e4mme. Me ohjasimme rantaan, kernaasti k\u00e4ytt\u00e4en tilaisuutta uusien\nvesi- ja ruokavarojen saantiin, tiet\u00e4ess\u00e4mme nyt saapuvamme Intian\nvaltameren suunnattomalle, saarista niukalle ulapalle.\nTapasimme hyv\u00e4n sataman, ja rannalla oli v\u00e4ke\u00e4; mutta maihin\nastuessamme he pakenivat, eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 suostuneet p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n meit\u00e4\nl\u00e4helleen, vaan ammuskelivat meit\u00e4 pitkill\u00e4 nuolillaan. Valkoisesta\nlipustammekaan he eiv\u00e4t olleet tiet\u00e4\u00e4kseenk\u00e4\u00e4n. Me l\u00f6ysimme kyll\u00e4\nvett\u00e4, vaikka se olikin hiukan vaikeasti saatavaa, mutta karjaa emme\nn\u00e4hneet miss\u00e4\u00e4n. Alkuasukkaat olivat n\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti ajaneet elukkansa\nkauvemmas, jos heill\u00e4 niit\u00e4 olikaan.\nMiehemme alkoivat tunkeutua edemm\u00e4, n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n asukkaat noin aroiksi.\nMutta he oppivat pian varovaisuutta, sill\u00e4 er\u00e4s nelj\u00e4toistamiehinen\njoukko sai \u00e4kki\u00e4 johonkin ruoko-istutukseen jouduttuansa nuolisateen\nvastaansa joka taholta, heid\u00e4n luullakseen puiden latvoista. Heid\u00e4n\nei auttanut muu kuin kapaista pakoon, sitte kun viisi heist\u00e4 oli\nhaavottunut; eiv\u00e4t he olisi niink\u00e4\u00e4n helpolla p\u00e4\u00e4sseet, ellei muuan\nheist\u00e4 olisi huutanut kaikkia pelotuksen yritt\u00e4miseksi ampumaan\numpim\u00e4hk\u00e4isen yhteislaukauksen.\nPamaukset eiv\u00e4t ainoastaan pelj\u00e4stytt\u00e4neet vihollisia, vaan\nsatuttivatkin joitakuita heist\u00e4, kuten tiheik\u00f6st\u00e4 kuuluvat ulvahdukset\ntodistivat. Nuolituisku herkesi ja intiaanien huhuilu loittoni yh\u00e4\nkauvemmas sis\u00e4maahan. N\u00e4m\u00e4 \u00e4\u00e4net olivat kerrassaan outoja, muistuttaen\npikemmin petojen haukuntaa ja ulinaa kuin ihmiskielt\u00e4. Miehemme\nper\u00e4ytyiv\u00e4t kiireisesti, mutta seikkailun pahin taival oli viel\u00e4\nj\u00e4ljell\u00e4.\nHeid\u00e4n nimitt\u00e4in sivuuttaessaan er\u00e4st\u00e4 tavattoman isoa jyrk\u00e4n\nkallionkyljen juurella kohoavaa puuta ammuttiin heit\u00e4 \u00e4kki\u00e4 puun\nlatvasta. Heihin t\u00e4hd\u00e4ttiin seitsem\u00e4n nuolta ja kolme keih\u00e4st\u00e4 sill\u00e4\nmasentavalla tuloksella, ett\u00e4 kaksi miest\u00e4 sai surmansa ja kolme\nhaavottui. Toisia uhkasi sama kohtalo, mutta onneksi \u00e4lysiv\u00e4t he\nvet\u00e4yty\u00e4 puun tyvelle suojaan, mist\u00e4 v\u00e4ijyj\u00e4t eiv\u00e4t voineet heit\u00e4\ntavotella. He saivat siten aikaa asemansa pohtimiseen. Latvasta kuului\nvillien luskutusta, ja vihdoin oli er\u00e4s ter\u00e4v\u00e4silm\u00e4isempi miehemme\nn\u00e4kevin\u00e4\u00e4n intiaanin p\u00e4\u00e4n pilkist\u00e4v\u00e4n jostakin oksien lomasta. H\u00e4n\nampui heti ja osasi niin kohdalleen, ett\u00e4 villi, p\u00e4\u00e4 l\u00e4vistettyn\u00e4,\nm\u00e4tk\u00e4hti kuolleena maahan; pelkk\u00e4 putoaminenkin olisi h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 hengen\nvienyt.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdytti v\u00e4ijyji\u00e4, ja n\u00e4iden ulvonta siirtyi puun latvasta\nsisukseen. Puu oli siis ontto ja verenhimoisten villien piilopaikka.\nMiehemme koettivat ammuskella sit\u00e4, mutta luodit eiv\u00e4t l\u00e4p\u00e4isseet\nkuorta. Kuitenkin tuntui piiritt\u00e4minen p\u00e4tev\u00e4lt\u00e4 keinolta, ja he\nl\u00e4hettiv\u00e4t kaksi miest\u00e4 hakemaan lis\u00e4voimia paikalle.\nMiehemme l\u00e4ksiv\u00e4tkin paikalle pikku armeijana ja ryhtyiv\u00e4t valtaisin\nvalmisteluin yritykseen, jonka laatuista tuskin on ennen kuultu,\nnimitt\u00e4in ison puun piiritt\u00e4miseen. Mutta perille tultuaan he\nhuomasivat teht\u00e4v\u00e4n ty\u00f6l\u00e4\u00e4ksi kyll\u00e4kin, sill\u00e4 runko oli per\u00e4ti jyhke\u00e4,\nainoastaan seitsem\u00e4n isoa oksaa latvapuolella, ja puuaines niin kovaa,\nettei siihen pystynyt kirvesk\u00e4\u00e4n.\nWilliam kveekari, jonka oli uteliaisuus houkutellut muiden mukaan,\nesitti teht\u00e4v\u00e4ksi tikkaat ja kavuttavaksi latvaan, mist\u00e4 voitaisiin\nheitt\u00e4\u00e4 kelon onteloon tulitus-aineita, villien savustamiseksi ulos\nlymyst\u00e4\u00e4n. Toiset ehdottivat hinattavaksi laivasta ison kanuunan, jonka\nluodit pirstaisivat puun; toiset taasen arvelivat parhaaksi kasata puun\njuurelle ison nuotion, jonka avulla puu asukkainensa poltettaisiin.\nN\u00e4ihin tuumailuihin meni kokonaista pari kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, joll'aikaa\npiiritetyist\u00e4 ei kuulunut hivaustakaan. Williamin esityst\u00e4 koeteltiin\nensiksi, ja miehet valmistivat isot tukevat tikkaat. He olivat aikeissa\npian ryhty\u00e4 pystytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n niit\u00e4, kun \u00e4kki\u00e4 puun latvasta taaskin kuului\nintiaanien p\u00e4lp\u00e4tyst\u00e4 ja samassa useampia keih\u00e4it\u00e4 sinkosi miehi\u00e4mme\nkohti. Yksi osui er\u00e4st\u00e4 matruusia hartiain v\u00e4liin ja iski h\u00e4neen niin\ntuhoisen vamman, ett\u00e4 l\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4riemme oli vaikea saada h\u00e4nt\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\nhenkiin. Onneton k\u00e4rsi niin kirveit\u00e4 tuskia, ett\u00e4 me kaikki olisimme\npit\u00e4neet kuoleman h\u00e4nelle parempana. H\u00e4nest\u00e4 tuli vaivainen koko\nlopuksi ij\u00e4kseen, sill\u00e4 keih\u00e4s oli katkaissut joitakuita k\u00e4sivarren\nyl\u00e4j\u00e4nteit\u00e4.\nMeid\u00e4n v\u00e4kemme yritti maksaa samalla mitalla, mutta villit livahtivat\najoissa takaisin k\u00e4tk\u00f6\u00f6ns\u00e4. Nyt oli turha en\u00e4\u00e4 ajatellakaan Williamin\nsuunnitelmaa, sill\u00e4 kuka olisi uskaltanut kavuta tuollaisten petojen\nsekaan? Min\u00e4kin olin samaa mielt\u00e4, nyt saavuttuani paikalle, pit\u00e4en\nmahdollisena ainoastaan, ett\u00e4 joku suorastaan sy\u00f6ks\u00e4ht\u00e4isi yl\u00f6s\ntikkaita, heitt\u00e4isi tulitus-aineita onteloon ja py\u00f6rt\u00e4isi heti\ntakaisin. N\u00e4in teimmekin pariin kolmeen kertaan, mutta emme havainneet\nsen vaikuttavan mit\u00e4\u00e4n. Vihdoin muuan tykkimiehemme valmisti k\u00e4rypadan,\nkuten me sit\u00e4 nimitimme; se oli monen aineen sekotus, joka ainoastaan\nsavuaa, mutta ei pala. Savu on niin sankka ja haju niin siet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4n\nilke\u00e4, ettei sit\u00e4 voi ihminen kest\u00e4\u00e4. T\u00e4m\u00e4n h\u00e4n itse viskasi onteloon\nja me odottelimme sen vaikutuksia, mutta emme kuulleet emmek\u00e4 n\u00e4hneet\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n koko sin\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 emmek\u00e4 seuraavanakaan p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4. P\u00e4\u00e4ttelimme siit\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 v\u00e4ijyj\u00e4t olivat kaikki tukehtuneet; mutta seuraavana y\u00f6n\u00e4 kuulimme\nheid\u00e4n taas huhuilevan ja \u00e4lisev\u00e4n puun latvassa kuin hullut.\nMe tietysti arvelemaan, ett\u00e4 he huutelivat apua, joten p\u00e4\u00e4timme\npitkitt\u00e4\u00e4 piirityst\u00e4mme. Raivostuttihan meit\u00e4 kaikkia, ett\u00e4 meille\nteki tuollaista ten\u00e4\u00e4 kourallinen villej\u00e4, joiden luulimme olevan\ntaatusti k\u00e4siss\u00e4mme. Sen vuoksi p\u00e4\u00e4timme toisena y\u00f6n\u00e4 koettaa uutta\nk\u00e4rypataa, ja tykkimies oli saanut sekotuksen valmiiksi, kun villit\nj\u00e4lleen alottivat h\u00e4lin\u00e4ns\u00e4 puun latvassa. En kuitenkaan tahtonut antaa\ntykkimiehen nousta yl\u00f6s tikkaita, kun minusta tuntui varmalta, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nsaisi surmansa. H\u00e4n keksi sent\u00e4\u00e4n keinon, aikoen nousta vain muutamia\naskelmia ja pist\u00e4\u00e4 annoksensa pitk\u00e4ll\u00e4 seip\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 puun onteloon. Mutta\nkun h\u00e4n kojeineen kolmen miehen keralla astui puun juurelle, niin\ntikkaat olivatkin tipo tiess\u00e4\u00e4n.\nOlimmepa nyt aivan ymm\u00e4ll\u00e4. Intiaanit olivat tietenkin k\u00e4ytt\u00e4neet\nhuolimattomuuttamme hyv\u00e4ksens\u00e4, kun olimme antaneet tikkaiden pysy\u00e4\npaikoillaan. He olivat luonnollisesti laskeutuneet alas ja vieneet\ntikkaat menness\u00e4\u00e4n. Naureskelin makeasti William yst\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4ni, joka\npiiritysjoukon johtajana oli pystytt\u00e4nyt linnotusv\u00e4elle tikapuut, jotta\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4si siten pakenemaan. Mutta p\u00e4iv\u00e4n valjetessa havaitsimme aseman\ntoiseksi, sill\u00e4 tikapuut olikin kiskottu puun latvaan, noin puoliv\u00e4liin\nty\u00f6nnetty onteloon ja toinen puolikas j\u00e4tetty t\u00f6rr\u00f6tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ilmassa. Nyt\nnauroimme intiaanien hupsuutta, kun eiv\u00e4t ty\u00f6l\u00e4\u00e4n ponnistelunsa sijasta\nolleet pintt\u00e4neet k\u00e4p\u00e4l\u00e4m\u00e4keen.\nP\u00e4\u00e4timme koettaa tulta. Ker\u00e4simme muutamissa tunneissa mielest\u00e4mme\nkylliksi sytykkeit\u00e4, kasasimme ne puun juurelle ja pistimme tuleen.\nTurvallisen matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 odotimme, milloin miekkoset katsoisivat\nasuntonsa liian kuumaksi ja parveilisivat ulos latvasta. Mutta\ntyrmistyimmep\u00e4 kerrassaan, kun \u00e4kki\u00e4 runsaat vesisuihkut sammuttivat\nnuotion. Luulimme tosiaan paholaisen pit\u00e4v\u00e4n t\u00e4ss\u00e4 peli\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4 on totisesti ovelin n\u00e4yte intiaanien insin\u00f6\u00f6ritaidosta, mit\u00e4\nlienee konsanaan kuultu\", puheli William; \"ja kun min\u00e4 en usko\ntaikuutta enk\u00e4 sielunvihollisen osuutta asiaan, niin on vain yksi\nselitys mahdollinen. Puun t\u00e4ytyy olla koverrettu maahan asti juurineen\np\u00e4ivineen, ja noilla kiusanhengill\u00e4 on sen alla keinotekoinen luola,\njoka voi ulottua suorastaan kallion l\u00e4pikin. Ulosk\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 emme tied\u00e4,\nmutta jos meiss\u00e4 on miest\u00e4, niin otanpa siit\u00e4 selon kahdessa p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4.\"\nWilliam pani kaksitoista miest\u00e4 isoilla kairoilla n\u00e4vert\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n reiki\u00e4\npuun kylkeen; n\u00e4vert\u00e4minen tehtiin hyvin hiljaisesti, kolot t\u00e4ytettiin\nruudilla, niihin ly\u00f6tiin lujat tulpat ja ne r\u00e4j\u00e4ytettiin yhtaikaa. Puu\npirstautuikin niin tehokkaasti, ett\u00e4 selv\u00e4sti n\u00e4imme toisen samanlaisen\nr\u00e4j\u00e4yksen riitt\u00e4v\u00e4n tarkoitukseemme. Sen se tekikin; toisella kerralla\nrepesi puun kylkeen useita aukkoja, ja me n\u00e4imme maahan kaivetun\nluolan, joka johti toiseen luolaan edemp\u00e4n\u00e4, sielt\u00e4 kun kuului villien\nh\u00e4lin\u00e4\u00e4.\nN\u00e4in pitk\u00e4lle p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4mme teki meid\u00e4n kovasti mieli tavottaa ne\nk\u00e4siimme. William tarjoutui kolmen miehen keralla tunkeutumaan\nk\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4n heitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4sigranaatteja vihollisten keskeen. H\u00e4n laskeutui\nitse etumaisena alas, sill\u00e4 Williamilla oli leijonan uljuus, se t\u00e4ytyy\nsanoa. Mutta intiaanit maksoivat heille samalla mitalla kuin me olimme\nk\u00e4rypadoillamme antaneet. He saivat niin kirvelev\u00e4n savun tupruamaan\nyl\u00f6s k\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4, ett\u00e4 William ja h\u00e4nen kumppaninsa olivat puoleksi\ntukehtuneita, kiireesti per\u00e4ytyess\u00e4\u00e4n pois moisesta pes\u00e4st\u00e4.\nHyvin oli linnotus varustettu, ja kaikin tavoin torjuttiin vastustajat.\nTahdoimme nyt luopua hommastamme, ja min\u00e4 huomauttelin Williamille,\nett\u00e4 olimme olleet ihan p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00f6mi\u00e4, ryhtyess\u00e4mme noin joutavanp\u00e4iv\u00e4iseen\nrynnistelyyn. William my\u00f6nsi, ettei yrityst\u00e4 k\u00e4ynyt jatkaminen. Mutta\nl\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4 tehdess\u00e4mme sanoi tykkimies sent\u00e4\u00e4n haluavansa n\u00e4hd\u00e4 miinauksen\navulla, minne p\u00e4in k\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4 johti. H\u00e4n haetutti laivasta kaksi\nruutitynnyri\u00e4, asetti ne luolaan niin kauvas kuin uskalsi tunkeutua,\nt\u00e4ytti luolan suun soralla, sotki t\u00e4m\u00e4n kiinte\u00e4ksi ja r\u00e4j\u00e4ytti\npanoksensa sytytyslangalla. Silloin puhkesi kallion toiselta kupeelta\npensaikosta panos esille kuin kanuuunan suusta. Juosten sinne n\u00e4imme\nlaukauksen vaikutuksen.\nR\u00e4j\u00e4hdys oli niin repinyt k\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4n toisen p\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 irrallinen\nsora oli sen kokonaan tukkinut. Noin suurta pulaa tuottaneesta\nlinnotusv\u00e4est\u00f6st\u00e4 n\u00e4kyi siell\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 k\u00e4si\u00e4, jalkoja, p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00f6mi\u00e4 runkoja\n-- tuskinpa lienee siit\u00e4 ainoakaan hengiss\u00e4 pelastunut. Olimme siis\nkostaneet kauheasti, mutta v\u00e4h\u00e4tp\u00e4 se meit\u00e4 hy\u00f6dytti, kun kaikessa\ntapauksessa oli kaksi miest\u00e4 saanut surmansa, yksi ruhjoutunut\nraajarikoksi ja kahdeksan muutoin haavottunut. Noin kalliin hinnan\nmaksettuamme siit\u00e4 tiedosta, mill\u00e4 tavoin intiaanit linnoittavat\nonttoja puita, l\u00e4ksimme j\u00e4lleen merelle, saatuamme uutta juomavett\u00e4,\nmutta kykenem\u00e4tt\u00e4mme ruokavarojamme kartuttamaan.\nYHDESTOISTA LUKU.\nHaaksirikko Ceylonin saarella.\nNyt oli neuvoteltava, mit\u00e4 olisi l\u00e4hinn\u00e4 teht\u00e4v\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksemme takaisin\nMadagaskarille. Olimme jokseenkin Hyv\u00e4ntoivonniemen leveysasteella,\nmutta taipaleen pituus tuntui arveluttavalta, kun emme voineet luottaa\nsiihen, ett\u00e4 saisimme suotuisia tuulia matkallamme tai tapaisimme maata\nv\u00e4lill\u00e4. Williamin neuvosta p\u00e4\u00e4timme poiketa et\u00e4iselt\u00e4 etel\u00e4iselt\u00e4\nleveysasteeltamme sitte kun olisimme laskujemme mukaan sivuuttaneet\nJavan ja Sumatran, ja l\u00e4hte\u00e4 pohjoiseen, Ceylonin ja Koromandelin\nsalmea kohti, ottaaksemme sielt\u00e4 vett\u00e4 ja uusia ruokavaroja. L\u00e4nteen\np\u00e4in purjehdimme sen vuoksi en\u00e4\u00e4 kymmenen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4; s\u00e4\u00e4 pysyi kaiken\naikaa suotuisana.\nMutta laskumme pettiv\u00e4t melkoisesti. Sill\u00e4 kuljettuamme sitte\nviidentoista tai kuudentoista leveysasteen verran pohjoiseen huomasimme\nkeulahangan puolella maata, jota tarkastelemaan l\u00e4hetimme kaikki\nlaivaveneet. Seutu oli hedelm\u00e4llist\u00e4; hyv\u00e4\u00e4 vett\u00e4 oli helppo saada,\nmutta karjaa ei n\u00e4kynyt eik\u00e4 asukkaita. Meid\u00e4n ei tehnytk\u00e4\u00e4n mieli\netsiskell\u00e4 kaukaa, v\u00e4ltt\u00e4\u00e4ksemme sellaista seikkailua kuin olimme\nviimeksi kokeneet; tyydyimme korjaamaan haltuumme niit\u00e4 kasviksia\njoiden k\u00e4yt\u00f6n tunsimme.\nHeikolla tuulella l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4mme j\u00e4lleen liikkeelle n\u00e4imme taaskin\nkahden viikon kuluttua maata ja pian huomasimme h\u00e4mm\u00e4stykseksemme\nolevamme Javan etel\u00e4rannikolla. Meill\u00e4 oli nyt ruokavarat hyvin\nv\u00e4hiss\u00e4, joten ryhdyimme etsim\u00e4\u00e4n laivallemme mukavinta satamapaikkaa,\nj\u00e4tt\u00e4en kohtalon ratkaistavaksi, kohtaisimmeko yst\u00e4vi\u00e4 vai vihollisia.\nKuitenkin p\u00e4\u00e4timme, ettemme viipyisi ainakaan kunnes enn\u00e4tett\u00e4isiin\nsaaren yli l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 Bataviassa oleville laivoille sana kiert\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4lle\nrannikolle meit\u00e4 ahdistamaan.\nLaskimme ankkurimme seitsem\u00e4n sylt\u00e4 syv\u00e4\u00e4n pohjukkaan, ja hankimme\nkelpo tavalla ruokavaroja, kuten sikoja ja lehmi\u00e4, joita my\u00f6s\nteurastimme tynnyreihin suolattavaksi niin hyvin kuin k\u00e4vi p\u00e4ins\u00e4\nkahdeksan leveysasteen p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4ntasaajasta. Asukasten kanssa\ntulimme hyvin toimeen, ja vesis\u00e4ili\u00f6t t\u00e4ytetty\u00e4mme l\u00e4ksimme iloisin\nmielin kohti Ceylonin rannikkoa, miss\u00e4 aikomuksenamme oli j\u00e4lleenkin\nhiukan poiketa maihin, jotta yh\u00e4 edelleen pysyisimme hyvin varattuina.\nHankalat tuulet pid\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t meit\u00e4 t\u00e4ll\u00e4 taipaleella yli kuukauden.\nMuutamassa p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4 suoriuduimme teht\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4mme Ceylonin etel\u00e4isess\u00e4\nk\u00e4rjess\u00e4, menestyksell\u00e4 karttaen hollantilaisia, jotka ovat senkin maan\nherroina. Heill\u00e4 on hallussaan sen kauppaliike, kaneelin vienti, ja he\novat rannikolle rakentaneet useita linnoituksia.\nMutta me saimme saareen toistamiseenkin tutustua, ja se oli v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4\nmaksaa meid\u00e4n kaikkien omaisuuden ja hengen. Kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 taaskin\nvesill\u00e4 oltuamme kohtasimme ankaran myrskyn, joka riepoitteli meit\u00e4\nkaikilta etel\u00e4n kulmilta kaakosta lounaaseen asti, puuskuen minuutin\nverran kerrallaan kultakin ilmansuunnalta. Emme voineet sellaisissa\noloissa hoidella laivaa kunnollisesti, niin ett\u00e4 minun laivassani\nkolme m\u00e4rssypurjetta repesi ja viimein isonmaston m\u00e4rssytanko ritkahti\npoikki. Parina kertana paiskauduimme p\u00e4in rantaa, ja kerran olisimme\nmusertuneet kallios\u00e4rk\u00e4lle parin kilometrin p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 rannasta, ellei\ntuuli olisi juuri viimeisess\u00e4 hetkess\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4ntynyt.\nSittemmin painoi myrsky meid\u00e4t isoon kallioiden ja maan v\u00e4liseen\naukkoon, johon olisimme koettaneet laskea ankkurimme, mutta pohja oli\npelkk\u00e4\u00e4 kivikkoa, niin ett\u00e4 sellainen yritys olisi vain riist\u00e4nyt\nmeilt\u00e4 ankkurit. Me ajauduimme aukon l\u00e4pi ja jouduimme kamalan\nvaaralliselle rannikolle, jolta turhaan t\u00e4hyilimme turvallista\npoukamaa. Viimein n\u00e4imme ison niemekkeen pist\u00e4ytyv\u00e4n etel\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4in niin\npitk\u00e4lle mereen, ett\u00e4 sit\u00e4 olisi t\u00e4ll\u00e4 tuulella mahdoton kiert\u00e4\u00e4.\nOhjasimme sen vuoksi niin hyv\u00e4\u00e4n tuulensuojaan sen kainalossa kuin\nmahdollista ja laskimme ankkurimme noin kahdentoista sylen syvyydelle.\nMutta tuuli py\u00f6r\u00e4hti j\u00e4lleen y\u00f6n kuluessa toisaanne ja puhalsi niin\ntavattoman navakasti, ett\u00e4 ankkurimme eiv\u00e4t pid\u00e4tt\u00e4neet ja laivamme\najautui edelleen, kunnes per\u00e4sin koski pohjaan; onneksi alkoi silloin\ntoinen ankkuri pit\u00e4\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 sen turvissa pysyimme jo paikoillamme\nl\u00e4pi tuon kamalan y\u00f6n. Aamupuolella alkoi myrsky heikenty\u00e4; sittekin\nhuomasimme p\u00e4iv\u00e4n valjetessa laskuveden aikana olevamme lujasti kiinni\nkovalla hiekkas\u00e4rk\u00e4ll\u00e4, kiitellen onneamme niinkin, sill\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4\nolimme olleet nousuveden aikana solua ankarassa aallokossa sen yli\nrantakivikkoon, joka olisi meid\u00e4t murskannut.\nMaan asukkaita tuli suurin joukoin \u00e4llistelem\u00e4\u00e4n meit\u00e4, ja heid\u00e4n\nkauttaan n\u00e4kyy viesti tapauksesta kulkeneen sis\u00e4maahan, sill\u00e4\nseuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ilmestyi paikalle kuningas tai joku ylh\u00e4inen\np\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6, mukanaan suuri pitkill\u00e4 heittokeih\u00e4ill\u00e4 aseestettu armeija,\njoka j\u00e4rjestyi riveiksi vesirajaan. He seisovat siin\u00e4 l\u00e4hes tunnin ajan\nliikkumattomina; sitte kahlasi parikymment\u00e4 miest\u00e4 vy\u00f6t\u00e4isi\u00e4ns\u00e4 my\u00f6ten\nlaakaan rantaveteen, aallokon jo suuresti tyynnytty\u00e4, ja etumaisena oli\nvalkeata lippua kantava mies. T\u00e4m\u00e4 piti meille pitk\u00e4n puheen, kuten\nh\u00e4nen eleist\u00e4ns\u00e4 huomasimme, vaikkakin \u00e4\u00e4ni kantoi meille vain joskus.\nLopuksi h\u00e4n huikkasi kolmasti, nosti ja laski lippuansa kolmasti ja\nviittiloitsi sitte kolmasti meit\u00e4 tulemaan luokseen.\nOlin aikeissa miehitt\u00e4\u00e4 veneen ja l\u00e4hte\u00e4 rantaan, mutta sit\u00e4 ei William\nmitenk\u00e4\u00e4n sallinut. H\u00e4n oli saanut tietoonsa useita esimerkkej\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nrannikon asukasten petollisuudesta ja syd\u00e4mett\u00f6myydest\u00e4, ja vakuutti\nmieluummin myyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 henkens\u00e4 kalliisti, jos laivamme asema osottautuisi\ntoivottomaksi, kuin n\u00e4kev\u00e4ns\u00e4 osan miehi\u00e4mme heti alussa ilmaiseksi\nuhraavan henkens\u00e4. Min\u00e4 en voinut oikein yhty\u00e4 h\u00e4nen toivottomaan\nk\u00e4sitykseens\u00e4 asukasten verenhimoisista aikeista, mutta kun William\ntarjoutui yritt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ottaa niist\u00e4 vaarattomalla tavalla selv\u00e4\u00e4, niin\nluovutin koko neuvottelujen j\u00e4rjest\u00e4misen ja johtamisen kernaasti\nh\u00e4nelle.\nNiinp\u00e4 ripustimme ensiksikin valkean lipun n\u00e4kyviin. Isoonveneeseen\nasetettiin nelj\u00e4kolmatta hyvin aseestettua p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4ist\u00e4 miest\u00e4,\npinassiin samaten kaksitoista. Laivan maanpuoleisen laidan kaikki\nkanuunat ladattiin musketinluodeilla, vanhoilla nauloilla, rautaromulla\nja muulla sellaisella; ja oli sovittu, ett\u00e4 me olisimme valmiit\nampumaan heti kun pinassissa kohotettaisiin punainen lippu. Niin\nl\u00e4htiv\u00e4t veneelliset maalle p\u00e4in, p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en olla astumatta jalkaansa\nrantaan.\nPuhelumatkan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ns\u00e4 miehet havaitsivat, ett\u00e4 maallaolijat\neiv\u00e4t ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4neet heid\u00e4n puhettansa. N\u00e4m\u00e4 kuitenkin saivat pian\nk\u00e4siins\u00e4 jonkun vanhan hollantilaisen, joka ryhtyi toimimaan tulkkina.\nH\u00e4nen puheittensa sis\u00e4lt\u00f6n\u00e4 oli, ett\u00e4 vahvasti varustettujen laivojen\nilmestyminen rannikolle oli her\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt pelkoa v\u00e4est\u00f6ss\u00e4. T\u00e4m\u00e4n\njohdosta oli kuningas l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt er\u00e4\u00e4n kenraalinsa suojelemaan maata\nrynt\u00e4ykselt\u00e4, mutta samalla, jos aikeemme olivat rauhalliset, antamaan\nmeille kaikkea mahdollista apua pulassamme, kutsumaan meid\u00e4t vapaasti\ntulemaan maihin ja osottamaan meille aulista vieraanvaraisuutta.\n\"Olet hollantilainen ja kristitty\", vastasi William; \"mutta oletko\nvapaa mies vai palvelija?\"\n\"Olen t\u00e4k\u00e4l\u00e4isen kuninkaan palvelija, ja h\u00e4nen armeijassaan.\"\n\"Mutta oletko vapaaehtoinen vai vanki?\"\n\"Vanki olin ensim\u00e4lt\u00e4, mutta nyt olen vapaana ja siis vapaaehtoinen.\"\n\"Toisin sanoen, oltuasi ensin vanki, on sinulla nyt vapaus palvella\nheit\u00e4; mutta oletko siten vapaa, ett\u00e4 saat poistua sik\u00e4li kuin mielesi\ntekee, omien maanmiestesi luo?\"\n\"Ei, sit\u00e4 en sano; maanmieheni asuvat pitk\u00e4n taipaleen takana, saaren\npohjois- ja it\u00e4osissa, eik\u00e4 heid\u00e4n luokseen voi l\u00e4hte\u00e4 ilman kuninkaan\nnimenomaista lupaa.\"\n\"No, miksi et hanki lupaa l\u00e4hte\u00e4ksesi pois?\"\n\"En ole sit\u00e4 koskaan pyyt\u00e4nyt.\"\n\"Ja arvatenkin tied\u00e4t, ett\u00e4 et sit\u00e4 saisi, jos pyyt\u00e4isitkin.\"\n\"Sit\u00e4 en voi menn\u00e4 takaamaan; mutta miksi t\u00e4t\u00e4 kaikkea kyselette?\"\n\"Siihenp\u00e4 minulla on p\u00e4tev\u00e4 syy. Jos sin\u00e4 olet kristitty ja vanki,\nniin miten voit suostua n\u00e4iden raakalaisten v\u00e4likappaleeksi,\nkavaltamaan meid\u00e4t heid\u00e4n k\u00e4siins\u00e4? Eik\u00f6 ole tunnotonta siten kohdella\nkristinvelji\u00e4ns\u00e4?\"\n\"Mitenk\u00e4 niin\u00e4 teit\u00e4 kavaltaisin? Enk\u00f6 tee teille selv\u00e4\u00e4 siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nkuningas kutsuu teit\u00e4 tulemaan maihin ja on k\u00e4skenyt osottamaan teille\nkohteliaisuutta ja avuliaisuutta?\"\n\"Niin totta kuin olet kristitty, vaikka sit\u00e4 suuresti ep\u00e4ilenkin,\nuskotko kuninkaan tarkottavan sanaakaan siit\u00e4 mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n lupailee?\"\n\"H\u00e4n lupaa teille suuren kenraalinsa kautta.\"\n\"Siit\u00e4 min\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4t v\u00e4lit\u00e4n; min\u00e4 kysyn vain: Voitko sanoa uskovasi, ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4n aikoo pit\u00e4\u00e4 sanansa?\"\n\"Miten min\u00e4 voin siihen vastata? Miten voin sanoa, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n aikonee?\"\n\"Voit sanoa, mit\u00e4 sin\u00e4 uskot.\"\n\"En voi sanoa, ettei h\u00e4n lupauksiansa t\u00e4ytt\u00e4isi; uskon kyll\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nsaattaa niin tehd\u00e4.\"\n\"Olet kaksikielinen kristitty, pelk\u00e4\u00e4n. No, min\u00e4 teen sinulle toisen\nkysymyksen: Tahdotko vakuuttaa, ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 uskot sen ja ett\u00e4 neuvoisit\nmeit\u00e4 uskomaan sen ja heitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n henkemme noiden lupausten varaan?\"\n\"Minusta ei ole teid\u00e4n neuvojaksenne.\"\n\"Sin\u00e4 kenties pelk\u00e4\u00e4t lausua mielipidett\u00e4si, kun olet heid\u00e4n\nvallassaan. Sanoppa, ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4\u00e4k\u00f6 heist\u00e4 kukaan, mit\u00e4 me puhelemme?\nOsaavatko he hollanninkielt\u00e4?\"\n\"Ei, ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n; ei minulla siin\u00e4 suhteessa ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n pelj\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4.\"\n\"No, vastaa siis minulle suoraan, jos kristitty olet: Onko meid\u00e4n\nturvallista luottaa heid\u00e4n sanoihinsa, antautua heid\u00e4n k\u00e4siins\u00e4 ja siis\ntulla maihin?\"\n\"Te ahdistatte minua kovin tiukasti. Antakaahan minunkin tehd\u00e4 teille\nkysymys: Onko v\u00e4h\u00e4nk\u00e4\u00e4n luultavaa, ett\u00e4 saatte laivanne irti, jos\nhylk\u00e4\u00e4tte avuntarjouksen?\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4 me laivan vesille saamme; nyt myrskyn heikennytty\u00e4 emme pelk\u00e4\u00e4.\"\n\"Sitten en voi sanoa olevan parasta luottaa heihin.\"\n\"No, se on rehellist\u00e4 puhetta.\"\n\"Mutta mit\u00e4 sanon heille?\"\n\"Anna heille hyvi\u00e4 sanoja kuten hekin meille.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 hyvi\u00e4 sanoja?\"\n\"No, anna heid\u00e4n ilmottaa kuninkaalle, ett\u00e4 me olemme muukalaisia,\njotka ankara myrsky ajoi t\u00e4lle rannikolle; ett\u00e4 syd\u00e4men pohjasta\nkiit\u00e4mme h\u00e4nen kohteliaasta tarjouksestaan, jota ilomielin k\u00e4yt\u00e4mme,\njos meille esiintyy pulaa; mutta ett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 ei t\u00e4ll\u00e4haavaa ole aihetta\ntulla maihin. Huomauta my\u00f6skin, ett\u00e4 me emme turvallisesti voi j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4\nlaivaa sen ollessa nykyisess\u00e4 tilassaan, meid\u00e4n kun p\u00e4invastoin t\u00e4ytyy\nhuolellisesti pit\u00e4\u00e4 silm\u00e4ll\u00e4 sen asemaa ja olla valmiit ensim\u00e4isell\u00e4\nsuotuisalla nousuvedell\u00e4 koettamaan saada se irti, asettuaksemme\nankkuriin.\"\n\"Mutta h\u00e4n odottaa teid\u00e4n sitte saapuvan maihin vieraisille h\u00e4nen\nluokseen, toivoen jotakin lahjaa kohteliaisuutensa palkinnoksi.\"\n\"Saatuamme laivan selv\u00e4lle vedelle ja paikattuamme sen vuodot me\nosotamme h\u00e4nelle kiitollisuuttamme.\"\n\"Ei, voittehan tulla h\u00e4nen luokseen yht\u00e4 hyvin nyt kuin silloinkin.\"\n\"Hei, yst\u00e4v\u00e4, ymm\u00e4rrys hoi; enh\u00e4n sanonut, ett\u00e4 me sitte tulemme h\u00e4nen\nluoksensa: kiitollisuuttamme vain osotamme sitte!\"\n\"No, sanonpa h\u00e4nelle kuitenkin, ett\u00e4 te tulette maihin h\u00e4nen luokseen\nsitte kun laiva on saatu irti.\"\n\"Siihen ei minulla ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n sanomista; latele h\u00e4nelle mit\u00e4 mielesi\ntekee.\"\n\"Mutta h\u00e4n raivostuu julmasti, jos en niin sano.\"\n\"Kenelle raivostuu?\"\n\"Teille.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 me siit\u00e4 piittaisimme?\"\n\"No, h\u00e4n l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 koko armeijansa teit\u00e4 vastaan.\"\n\"Ja ent\u00e4s jos olisikin h\u00e4nen koko joukkonsa jo t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4? Mit\u00e4 luulisit\nheid\u00e4n voivan meille tehd\u00e4?\"\n\"H\u00e4n odottaisi heid\u00e4n polttavan teid\u00e4n laivanne ja tuovan teid\u00e4t kaikki\nluoksensa.\"\n\"Onko h\u00e4nell\u00e4 laivoja?\"\n\"Ei, ei ole laivoja.\"\n\"Eik\u00e4 veneit\u00e4?\"\n\"Ei, eip\u00e4 niit\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\n\"No, mit\u00e4 siis h\u00e4nest\u00e4 v\u00e4litt\u00e4isimme? Mit\u00e4 voisit sin\u00e4 meille tehd\u00e4,\njos sinulla olisi satatuhatta miest\u00e4 k\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4si?\"\n\"Voisivathan he sytytt\u00e4\u00e4 laivanne tuleen.\"\n\"Me antaisimme heille kanuunoillamme niin tuliset tuliaiset, ettei\nheid\u00e4n tulituksestansa mit\u00e4\u00e4n tulisi, sen takaan.\"\n\"Mutta ent\u00e4 jos kuningas antaisi teille panttivankeja turvaksenne?\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 voisi h\u00e4n antaa muita kuin pelkki\u00e4 palvelijoita ja orjia\nsellaisia kuin sin\u00e4kin, joiden henke\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei pid\u00e4 suuremmassa arvossa\nkuin me englantilaisen koiran?\"\n\"Ket\u00e4 vaatisitte panttivangeiksi?\"\n\"H\u00e4net itsens\u00e4 ja teid\u00e4n korkea-arvoisuutenne.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle tekisitte?\"\n\"Samaa kuin h\u00e4n tekisi meille -- h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 katkaisisimme.\"\n\"Ja mit\u00e4 tekisitte minulle?\"\n\"Sinulleko? Me veisimme sinut takaisin kotimaahasi, ja vaikka sin\u00e4\nansaitset hirsipuun, niin tekisimme sinusta j\u00e4lleen ihmisen ja\nkristityn, emmek\u00e4 menettelisi sinun kanssasi niinkuin sin\u00e4 olisit\nhalunnut meid\u00e4n kanssamme menetell\u00e4 -- kavaltaisi sinua tunnottomien\npakanain k\u00e4siin, jotka eiv\u00e4t tunne Jumalaa, eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 l\u00e4him\u00e4ist\u00e4ns\u00e4\nkohtaan s\u00e4\u00e4li\u00e4.\"\n\"Saattepa siin\u00e4 mieleeni ajatuksen, josta teille huomenna puhun.\"\nSiten he erosivat toisistaan, ja William laivaan tultuansa teki\nperinpohjaisesti selv\u00e4\u00e4 omituisesta keskustelustansa. Selostus oli\nminulle sek\u00e4 hupainen ett\u00e4 opettavainen, ja minulla oli yllinkyllin\nsyyt\u00e4 tunnustaa, ett\u00e4 William oli \u00e4lynnyt aseman j\u00e4rkev\u00e4mmin kuin min\u00e4.\nHyv\u00e4ksi onneksemme saimme laivan jo samana iltana irti ja veimme sen\nankkuriin noin puolitoista engl. penikulmaa ulomma, syv\u00e4lle vedelle.\nMeill\u00e4 oli syyt\u00e4 riemuita, kun oli yh\u00e4 v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n pelkoa hollantilaisen\nkuninkaasta ja h\u00e4nen sadastatuhannesta soturistaan. Ja melkein niit\u00e4\nseuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 sen verran olikin rannassa, ja elefanttejakin\njoukossa. Mutta me luulimme olevamme niilt\u00e4 paremmassakin turvassa kuin\ntodella olimme, sill\u00e4 oli kymmenentuhatta mahdollisuutta yht\u00e4 vastaan,\nett\u00e4 joutuisimme uudestaan tiukasti kiinni. Tuuli k\u00e4vi nimitt\u00e4in\nmaalta p\u00e4in ja puhalsi laskuveden tavallista ulommaksi, jolloin n\u00e4imme\nmeit\u00e4 pid\u00e4telleen hiekkas\u00e4rk\u00e4n puolikuun muotoisena ymp\u00e4r\u00f6iv\u00e4n meit\u00e4\nmolemmilla sakaroillaan. Me olimme keskikohdalla kyll\u00e4 turvassa,\nmutta kuolema vaani kumpaisellakin sivullamme, hiekkakielekkeet kun\nulottuivat parin engl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n merelle p\u00e4in nykyisest\u00e4\npaikastamme.\nTuo ajattelematon ihmispaljous levisi sille hietikolle, joka oli\nit\u00e4puolellamme, ollen useimmat nilkkojaan ja toiset polviaan my\u00f6ten\nvedess\u00e4. Mantereen puolella he niinik\u00e4\u00e4n ymp\u00e4r\u00f6iv\u00e4t meit\u00e4 sek\u00e4 jonkun\nmatkaa toisellakin hietas\u00e4rk\u00e4ll\u00e4, muodostaen kaikkiansa noin kuuden\nengl. penikulman mittaisen ympyr\u00e4npuoliskon, eli oikeammin kolme\nviidennest\u00e4 ympyr\u00e4\u00e4. L\u00e4ntinen hietakieleke ei ollut niin laaka kuin\ntoinen, joten he eiv\u00e4t sit\u00e4 my\u00f6ten p\u00e4\u00e4sseet tunkeutumaan niin kauvas.\nV\u00e4h\u00e4np\u00e4 he aavistivat mink\u00e4 palveluksen olivat tehneet meille,\ntiet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4n ja \u00e4lytt\u00f6m\u00e4sti asetuttuansa luotseiksemme. Tosin olisimme\nsaattaneet luodata uutta satamaamme ennen kuin olisimme uskaltaneet\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 liikkeelle, mutta se ei ole ollenkaan sanottua, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4\nainakaan en osapuillekaan tajunnut asemamme vaarallisuutta. Laiva oli\nsaanut pahoja vuotoja, kaikki pumppumme pystyiv\u00e4t tuskin pid\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\nvett\u00e4 lis\u00e4\u00e4ntym\u00e4st\u00e4, ja puusepp\u00e4mme h\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4siv\u00e4t ulkopuolella etsiskellen\nja paikkaillen vammojamme, kallistettuaan laivan ensin toiselle ja\nsitte toiselle kyljelleen. T\u00e4llainen kallistamispuuha her\u00e4tti villeiss\u00e4\nlaumoissa suunnatonta huomiota, osaksi s\u00e4ikkymist\u00e4 ja osaksi riemua, ja\nhe luikkailivat ja kiljuivat kesken\u00e4\u00e4n kuin vimmatut.\nMeill\u00e4 oli tulinen kiire, senh\u00e4n voi arvata. Kaikki olivat ty\u00f6ss\u00e4 sek\u00e4\nvuotoja korjatakseen ett\u00e4 paikkaillakseen taklaasiamme, joka sekin oli\nsaanut melkoisia vaurioita, joten oli vaihdettava purjeita ja uusi\nisonmaston m\u00e4rssytanko sek\u00e4 muuta sellaista laitettava kuntoon. Kesken\nkaiken n\u00e4imme noin tuhatlukuisen miesjoukon eri\u00e4v\u00e4n siit\u00e4 raakalaisten\narmeijasta, joka oli ker\u00e4ytynyt hietaisen poukaman pohjukkaan, ja\ntulevan pitkin vesirajaa it\u00e4iselle kielekkeelle, kunnes olivat noin\npuolen engl. penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 meist\u00e4. Sitte kahlasi hollantilainen\nmeit\u00e4 l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi yksin\u00e4ns\u00e4, heilutellen valkeata lippuansa ja tehden\nmerkkej\u00e4ns\u00e4 kuten ennenkin. Lopuksi h\u00e4n seisahtui odottelemaan.\nMiehemme olivat juuri saaneet laivamme asentoon ja tukkineet pahimmat\nvuotomme. Sen vuoksi k\u00e4skin miehitt\u00e4\u00e4 veneet entiseen tapaan ja\nl\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n Williamin johdolla neuvotteluun. Minun oli turha itseni\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 mukaan, kun kerran en osannut hollanninkielt\u00e4, joten puhelu\nvoitiin yht\u00e4 hyvin tulkita minulle my\u00f6hemminkin. Ev\u00e4stin Williamia vain\nsill\u00e4 toivomuksella, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n koettaisi saada vanhan hollantilaisen\nmukaansa.\nNo niin, William meni kuudenkymmenen tai seitsem\u00e4nkymmenen kyyn\u00e4r\u00e4n\np\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n rannasta, kohotti valkean lipun kuten hollantilainenkin ja\nalotti seuraavasti kaksinpuhelun, miestens\u00e4 lev\u00e4tess\u00e4 airoillaan:\n\"No, yst\u00e4v\u00e4, mit\u00e4 nyt sanot?\"\n\"Tulen samalla lempe\u00e4ll\u00e4 asialla\", vastasi hollantilainen.\n\"Mit\u00e4! Oletko tulevinasi lempe\u00e4ll\u00e4 asialla, kun sinulla on takanasi\nkaikki tuo kansa sota-aseinensa? Mit\u00e4 se merkitsee, sanoppa?\"\n\"Kuningas kiirehdytt\u00e4\u00e4 meit\u00e4 kutsumaan kapteenin ja kaikki h\u00e4nen\nmiehens\u00e4 maihin, ja h\u00e4n on k\u00e4skenyt v\u00e4kens\u00e4 osottaa heille kaikkea\nmahdollista kohteliaisuutta.\"\n\"Ja ovatko kaikki nuo tulleet pelkiksi kutsujiksi?\"\n\"He eiv\u00e4t tee teille mit\u00e4\u00e4n vahinkoa, jos tulette sovinnollisesti.\"\n\"Mutta sin\u00e4p\u00e4 vasta olet p\u00f6lh\u00f6. Mit\u00e4 pelk\u00e4\u00e4mist\u00e4 meill\u00e4 olisi\nmokomasta armeijasta, jos emme sen toivomuksia tottele? Mik\u00e4 saa sinut\nesiintym\u00e4\u00e4n noin typer\u00e4n\u00e4?\"\n\"Voitte luulla olevanne suuremmassakin turvassa kuin olette; te ette\ntied\u00e4, mit\u00e4 he saattavat teille tehd\u00e4. Voivathan he laivannekin\npolttaa.\"\n\"Mahdotonta; mutta n\u00e4eth\u00e4n ett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 on enemm\u00e4nkin laivoja,\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksemme pois.\"\nJuuri t\u00e4ll\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 nimitt\u00e4in n\u00e4imme purren l\u00e4henev\u00e4n meit\u00e4 id\u00e4st\u00e4\npitkin rannikkoa, parin meripenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4. Se her\u00e4tti meiss\u00e4 suurta\ntyytyv\u00e4isyytt\u00e4, sill\u00e4 se oli ollut kadoksissa kolmetoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\n\"En tied\u00e4 mit\u00e4 oikein tekisin\", p\u00e4ivitteli hollantilainen. \"Soisinpa\nolevani poissa heid\u00e4n paristaan; he ovat verist\u00e4 kansaa, ja hoputtavat\nminua vain suostuttelemaan teit\u00e4 maihin.\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4 kai sen tied\u00e4t, mit\u00e4 sinun olisi teht\u00e4v\u00e4. Osaatko uida?\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4, uida osaan; mutta jos yritt\u00e4isin uida luoksenne, niin minussa\nt\u00f6rr\u00f6tt\u00e4isi tuhannen nuolta ja heittokeih\u00e4st\u00e4 ennen kuin olisin\nveneenne vieress\u00e4.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 tuon veneen ihan l\u00e4hellesi\", lupasi William, \"ja vien sinut\nmukanani heid\u00e4n kaikkien uhalla. Annamme niille yhden ainoan\nyhteislaukauksen, niin takaanpa ett\u00e4 he kaikkoavat tiehens\u00e4.\"\n\"Siin\u00e4 erehdytte, sen vakuutan\", intti hollantilainen. \"He rynt\u00e4isiv\u00e4t\nkaikki heti rantaan, ampuisivat tulinuolia vastaanne ja sytytt\u00e4isiv\u00e4t\nsek\u00e4 veneenne ett\u00e4 laivanne.\"\n\"Siihen uskallamme antautua, jos tahdot tulla pois.\"\n\"Kohteletteko minua kunniallisesti, tultuani joukkoonne?\"\n\"Annan siit\u00e4 kunniasanani\", vakuutti William, \"ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 saat t\u00e4yden\nvapauden menn\u00e4 minne haluat, vaikkakaan et sit\u00e4 ansaitse.\"\nSamassa ampui laivamme kolme kanuunanlaukausta, ilmottaakseen purrelle,\nett\u00e4 se oli n\u00e4hty. Se k\u00e4\u00e4nsikin heti suuntansa suoraan ankkuripaikkaa\nkohti. Mutta on mahdotonta kuvata sit\u00e4 sekamelskaa ja meteli\u00e4,\nhy\u00f6rin\u00e4\u00e4 ja hajaannusta, mit\u00e4 nuo laukaukset saivat aikaan tuossa\nsuunnattomassa ihmispaljoudessa. He k\u00e4viv\u00e4t heti aseisiinsa k\u00e4siksi,\nmarssivat k\u00e4skysanan saatuansa l\u00e4hemm\u00e4 ja muitta mutkitta tervehtiv\u00e4t\nmeit\u00e4 kymmenill\u00e4 tuhansilla tulinuolillansa, joiden k\u00e4rjiss\u00e4 oli pieni\ntulikiveen tai muuhun sellaiseen aineeseen kastettu vaatetukko, joten\nne ilmassa sinkoillessaan yleens\u00e4 syttyiv\u00e4t tuleen.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 aavistamaton hy\u00f6kk\u00e4ystapa h\u00e4mm\u00e4stytti meit\u00e4 ensin, sill\u00e4 lukum\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\noli alussa niin suuri, ett\u00e4 laivamme syttyminen tuleen tuntui\nmahdolliselta. William p\u00e4\u00e4tti heti soudattaa laivaan ja kehottaa meit\u00e4\nviipym\u00e4tt\u00e4 l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n merelle; mutta siihen ei ollut aikaa, sill\u00e4 he\neiv\u00e4t hellitt\u00e4neet hetkeksik\u00e4\u00e4n, joten ilma pysyi t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 liekkej\u00e4,\ntuhoaseiden sadellessa joka haaralta.\nNuolissa oli, paitsi tulta, luusta tai ter\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4 piikivest\u00e4 muovailtu\nk\u00e4rki; joissakuissa oli k\u00e4rki pehme\u00e4t\u00e4 metalliakin. Siten ne puuhun\nosuessaan tarttuivat kiinni. William ja h\u00e4nen miehens\u00e4 olivat\ntulisateessaan kiireimmiten vaipuneet veneens\u00e4 korkeiden varalaitojen\nsuojaan ja yrittiv\u00e4t ensin soutaa loitomma, samalla kun ampuivat\ntiheimp\u00e4\u00e4n joukkoon yhteislaukauksen. Mutta kun se ei saanut ahdistajia\nper\u00e4ytym\u00e4\u00e4n, niin he rohkeasti soutivatkin l\u00e4hemm\u00e4 ja ampuivat\ntoistamiseen. He saivat kyll\u00e4 paljon tuhoa aikaan, mutta olivat itsekin\nniin suuressa hengenvaarassa, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n j\u00e4lleen t\u00e4ytyi kaiken voimin\nyritt\u00e4\u00e4 meloa syrj\u00e4\u00e4n, kun venekin oli tulta t\u00e4ynn\u00e4ns\u00e4. Onneksi ei\nkukaan heist\u00e4 ollut viel\u00e4 haavottunut.\nNyt oli meill\u00e4 laivalta avoin ampumalinja ahdistajiin p\u00e4in. Me\ntyhjensimme viisi kanuunaa kerrallaan kuusi tai seitsem\u00e4n kertaa\ntiheimp\u00e4\u00e4n parveen, ja senh\u00e4n k\u00e4sitt\u00e4\u00e4, millaista j\u00e4lke\u00e4 moisilla\npanoksilla varustetut laukaukset tekev\u00e4t. Silti he eiv\u00e4t l\u00e4hteneet\nkarkuun, vaan ampuivat nuoliansa kuin vimmatut. Vihdoin taukosi \u00e4kki\u00e4\nnuolisade, ja vanha hollantilainen kiirehti j\u00e4lleen yksin\u00e4ns\u00e4 veteen,\nheilutellen valkeata lippuansa korkealla ja viittil\u00f6iden venett\u00e4mme\ntulemaan takaisin.\nWilliamin ei ensim\u00e4lt\u00e4 tehnyt mieli menn\u00e4 l\u00e4helle, mutta h\u00e4n taipui\nviimein. Hollantilainen kertoi h\u00e4nelle puhutelleensa kenraalia, joka\noli v\u00e4kens\u00e4 mieshukasta suuresti leppynyt, joten h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 nyt saattoi\nsaada mit\u00e4 tahansa.\n\"Mit\u00e4 tahansa!\" sanoo William. \"Mit\u00e4 tekemist\u00e4 meill\u00e4 on h\u00e4nen\nkanssaan? Olkoon h\u00e4n omassa rauhassaan ja viek\u00f6\u00f6n v\u00e4kens\u00e4 tykinkantaman\nulkopuolelle!\"\n\"Niin\", tuumii hollantilainen, \"mutta h\u00e4n ei uskalla liikahtaa eik\u00e4\nn\u00e4hd\u00e4 kuninkaan kasvoja; ellei joitakuita miehi\u00e4nne tule maihin, niin\nh\u00e4n on varmasti kuoleman oma.\"\n\"No, sittep\u00e4 h\u00e4n on kuollut mies\", sanoo William, \"sill\u00e4 vaikkapa\nolisi kysymyksess\u00e4 noiden kaikkien niin hyvin kuin h\u00e4nenkin henkens\u00e4,\nniin h\u00e4n ei ikin\u00e4 saa ainoatakaan meist\u00e4 valtaansa. Mutta min\u00e4p\u00e4 sanon\nsinulle, mill\u00e4 tavoin saat petetyksi h\u00e4net ja p\u00e4\u00e4set itse vapaaksi, jos\nmielesi tekee j\u00e4lleen n\u00e4hd\u00e4 syntym\u00e4maasi, ja jos et jo ole mieltynyt\nloppu-ik\u00e4\u00e4si viett\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n villin\u00e4 pakanain seassa.\"\n\"Kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni tahtoisin tulla mukaanne\", sureksi\nhollantilainen; \"mutta jos nytkin yritt\u00e4isin uida luoksenne, niin he\nampuvat et\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4kin niin tarkkaan, etten pelastuisi hengiss\u00e4.\"\n\"Mutta mene sanomaan h\u00e4nelle\", neuvoi William, \"ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen\ntarjoutunut viem\u00e4\u00e4n sinut laivaan koettamaan suostutella kapteenia\ntulemaan maihin, ja ett\u00e4 minulla puolestani ei ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n sellaista\nvierailua vastaan.\"\nHollantilainen oli ihastuksissaan heti ensi sanasta.\n\"Sen teen\", h\u00e4n sanoi; \"olen varma siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n pulassaan antaa\nminun l\u00e4hte\u00e4.\"\nH\u00e4n juoksi pois kuin ilosanomaa viem\u00e4\u00e4n, kenraali \u00e4lytt\u00f6m\u00e4sti antoi\nsuostumuksensa ja vannotti h\u00e4nt\u00e4, ettei h\u00e4n tulisi takaisin ilman\nkapteenia. Toinen lupasi hartaasti, ja pitip\u00e4 sanansa kuin pitikin.\nH\u00e4net tuotiin laivaan; pursi oli tullut poukamamme suulle, me nostimme\nankkurimme ja l\u00e4ksimme liikkeelle. Heid\u00e4t sivuuttaessamme hurrasimme\nhuikeasti, riemukkaina kuljettaen pois heid\u00e4n l\u00e4hettil\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4. Taisipa\nkenraalille k\u00e4yd\u00e4 huonosti.\nKAHDESTOISTA LUKU.\nK\u00e4\u00e4nn\u00f6s el\u00e4m\u00e4n uralla.\nKertomukseni l\u00e4henee loppuansa. Olimme nyt avoimella ulapalla ja\npurjehdimme aluksi pohjoista kohti. Oikea m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4mme p\u00e4\u00e4 oli Madagaskar,\nMangahellyn lahti; mutta William vei minut er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 purren\nkajuuttiin, haluten puhella tovin vakavasti kanssani kahden kesken.\n\"Annatko minun\", alotti William, \"pukua sinulle suoraan nykyisist\u00e4\nolosuhteistasi ja vastaisen el\u00e4m\u00e4si mahdollisuuksista? Lupaatko\nkunniasanallasi, ett\u00e4 et pane pahaksesi sanojani?\"\n\"Kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni\", vastasin min\u00e4. \"William, olen aina huomannut\nneuvosi hyviksi ja suunnitelmasi ovat olleet j\u00e4rkev\u00e4sti perusteltuja.\nPuhu siis vapaasti, mit\u00e4 vain mielesi tekee.\"\n\"Mutta siin\u00e4 ei ole kaikki mit\u00e4 vaadin\", jatkoi William; \"siin\u00e4kin\ntapauksessa, ett\u00e4 ajattelemani esitys on sinulle vastenmielinen, tulee\nsinun vannoa visusti vaikenevasi siit\u00e4.\"\n\"Sen totisesti teen, William\", vakuutin, \"kernaasti\".\n\"No niin\", pitkitti William, \"minulla on sitten en\u00e4\u00e4 yksi ehto sinun\nkanssasi sovittavana, nimitt\u00e4in ett\u00e4 vaikka et omasta kohdastasi\nyhtyisik\u00e4\u00e4n esitykseeni, sallit minun kuitenkin toteuttaa sen itseeni\nn\u00e4hden, kunhan se vain ei tapahdu sinun haitaksesi ja vahingoksesi.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 tahansa\", sanoin, \"paitsi jos olisi kysymyksess\u00e4, ett\u00e4 me\neri\u00e4isimme, sill\u00e4 siihen en voisi suurin surminkaan suostua.\"\n\"Sit\u00e4 en ajattelekaan\", selitti William, \"sik\u00e4li kuin ei se johdu\nomasta p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6ksest\u00e4si.\"\nMin\u00e4 lupasin h\u00e4nelle vaitioloni niin totisesti ja vilpitt\u00f6m\u00e4sti, ett\u00e4\nWilliam sen enemp\u00e4\u00e4 siekailematta alkoi selvitell\u00e4 ajatuksiansa.\n\"Niin, ensinn\u00e4kin\", puheli William, \"kysyn sinulta, etk\u00f6 sin\u00e4 ja\nmiehesi mielest\u00e4si ole kyllin rikkaita, ja ettek\u00f6 ole ker\u00e4nneet --\nmill\u00e4 tavalla, siit\u00e4 ei ole kysymys -- niin paljon varallisuutta kuin\nme kaikki osaamme k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4?\"\n\"Oletpa totisesti kutakuinkin oikeassa\", my\u00f6nsin min\u00e4; \"meill\u00e4 on ollut\nonni puolellamme.\"\n\"Kysynp\u00e4\", jatkoi William, \"ajatteletko nyt kylliksesi saatuasi\nollenkaan t\u00e4m\u00e4n ammatin j\u00e4tt\u00e4mist\u00e4. Enimm\u00e4t ihmiseth\u00e4n luopuvat\nammatistaan, milloin ovat mielest\u00e4\u00e4n kylliksi rikkaita. Eih\u00e4n kukaan\nharjota ammattia ammatin itsens\u00e4 vuoksi, viel\u00e4 v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n rosvoile\npelk\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n varastamisen halusta.\"\n\"N\u00e4enp\u00e4 nyt, mit\u00e4 mieless\u00e4si liikkuu. Totisesti alatkin kaipailla\nkotiin.\"\n\"Sin\u00e4p\u00e4 sen sanoit\", my\u00f6nsi William, \"ja toivonpa sinun tekev\u00e4n samoin.\nMaailmaa matkanneille on kotiinsa palaamisen halu luonnollinen etenkin\nkun ovat retkill\u00e4ns\u00e4 rikastuneet.\"\n\"Niinp\u00e4 niin, William\", huomautin min\u00e4, \"kai sin\u00e4 luulet alottaneesi\nniin p\u00e4tev\u00e4st\u00e4 perusteesta, ettei minulla ole siihen mit\u00e4\u00e4n sanottavaa.\nTietenkin on luonnollista ajatella kotiansa rikkaaksi tultuansa. Mutta\nsin\u00e4 et ole selitt\u00e4nyt, mit\u00e4 tarkotat kodilla, ja siit\u00e4 joudumme\nerimielisyyteen. Kas, min\u00e4h\u00e4n olen kotona; t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 on asuinpaikkani;\nmuuta ei ole minulla el\u00e4iss\u00e4ni ollut; min\u00e4 olin satunnaisen kunnan\nkasvatti, joten minulla ei ole mihin menn\u00e4.\"\n\"Mutta olethan englantilainen\", virkahti William hiukan\nh\u00e4mmennyksiss\u00e4\u00e4n.\n\"Kyll\u00e4, niin luulen\", vastasin; \"puhunhan englantia. Mutta min\u00e4 jouduin\njo lapsena pois Englannista ja olen siell\u00e4 miehen\u00e4 vain kerran k\u00e4ynyt.\nSilloin petkutettiin ja kohdeltiin minua niin pahoin, etten v\u00e4lit\u00e4,\nvaikk'en sit\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 n\u00e4kisi.\"\n\"Mutta eik\u00f6 sinulla ole siell\u00e4 omaisia tai yst\u00e4vi\u00e4?\" kysyi h\u00e4n; \"mit\u00e4\u00e4n\ntuttavaa -- ket\u00e4\u00e4n jota kohtaan tunnet yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyytt\u00e4 tai kunnioitusta\nvanhastaan?\"\n\"Eip\u00e4 totta tosiaan sen enemp\u00e4\u00e4 kuin Suur-Mogulin hovissa.\"\n\"Eik\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n rakkautta maata kohtaan, miss\u00e4 synnyit?\"\n\"Eip\u00e4 sen enemp\u00e4\u00e4 kuin Madagaskarin saarta kohtaan, eik\u00e4 niink\u00e4\u00e4n\npaljoa; sill\u00e4 se saari on useammin kuin kerran ottanut minut\nhoteisiinsa, kuten tied\u00e4t, William.\"\nWilliam oli kuin puulla p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n ly\u00f6ty, ja vaikeni. Min\u00e4 kehotin:\n\"Jatka, William; mit\u00e4 on sinulla muuta sanottavaa? Onhan sinulla jokin\nsuunnitelma mieless\u00e4si; annas kuulua.\"\n\"Ei\", vastasi William, \"sin\u00e4 olet minut mykistytt\u00e4nyt, ja kaikki\nsanottavani on k\u00e4ynyt turhaksi; kaikki aikeeni ovat menneet tyhjiin ja\nrauenneet.\"\n\"Mutta anna minun kuitenkin kuulla, millaisia ne olivat, William.\nSill\u00e4 vaikka min\u00e4 en voikaan ottaa asioita samalta kannalta kuin sin\u00e4\nsynnyinmaasta puhuttaessa, niin sill\u00e4 ei ole sanottua, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ni ajaksi mieltynyt t\u00e4h\u00e4n merten harhailuun. Annas kuulua, voitko\nesitt\u00e4\u00e4 minulle mit\u00e4\u00e4n sen j\u00e4lkeen.\"\n\"Totisesti, yst\u00e4v\u00e4ni\", sanoi William hyvin vakavasti, \"siet\u00e4isi\najatella sen j\u00e4lkeen koituvaa\"; ja k\u00e4tens\u00e4 kohottaen h\u00e4n n\u00e4ytti hyvin\nliikutetulta, ja min\u00e4 olin n\u00e4kevin\u00e4ni kyyneli\u00e4 h\u00e4nen silmiss\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMutta min\u00e4 olin liian paatunut syntinen antaakseni sellaisten asiain\nj\u00e4rkytt\u00e4\u00e4 mielt\u00e4ni, ja purskahdin nauramaan.\n\"Mit\u00e4! Sin\u00e4 tarkotat kuolemaa, sen takaan; etk\u00f6 niin? Se on edess\u00e4\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n ammatin j\u00e4lkeen. No, se tulee, kun tulee; silloin on meist\u00e4\nkaikista huolta pidetty.\"\n\"Totta kyll\u00e4\", sanoi William; \"mutta olisi ennen sen tuloa ajateltava\njoitakuita asioita.\"\n\"Ajateltava! Mit\u00e4 hy\u00f6ty\u00e4 siit\u00e4 ajattelemisesta on? Kuoleman\najatteleminen on samaa kuin kuoleminen, ja sen ainainen ajatuksissansa\npit\u00e4minen on elinaikaista kuoleman tekemist\u00e4. Onpa aikaa sit\u00e4 ajatella\nsilloin kun se tulee.\"\nPuheistani n\u00e4ette, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olin omiansa merirosvoksi. Mutta olkoon\nkuitenkin mainittuna, ett\u00e4 omatuntoni tuotti syd\u00e4meeni vihlaisun,\njollaista en ollut koskaan ennen tuntenut, kun sanoin: \"Mit\u00e4 hy\u00f6ty\u00e4\nsiit\u00e4 ajattelemisesta on?\" Se ilmaisi minulle, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 viel\u00e4 jonakuna\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ahdistunein mielin ajattelisin n\u00e4it\u00e4 sanoja. Mutta harkintani\naika ei ollut viel\u00e4 tullut, joten min\u00e4 pysyin paatumuksessani.\n\"Minun t\u00e4ytyy sanoa sinulle, yst\u00e4v\u00e4\", vastasi William hyvin totisena,\n\"ett\u00e4 minua surettaa kuulla sinun puhuvan noin. Ne, jotka eiv\u00e4t\nmilloinkaan ajattele kuolemaa, usein kuolevatkin sit\u00e4 ajattelematta.\"\nMin\u00e4 jatkoin viel\u00e4 pilantekoani ja tokaisin:\n\"Veikkoseni, \u00e4l\u00e4h\u00e4n puhu kuolemasta; mist\u00e4 tied\u00e4mme, ett\u00e4 mekin\nkuolemme?\" Ja min\u00e4 nauroin j\u00e4lleen.\n\"Siihen ei minun tarvitse sinulle vastausta antaa\", sanoi William.\n\"Minun ei sovi sinua nuhdella, kun olet p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6ni; mutta kernaasti\nsoisin, ett\u00e4 puhuisit kuolemasta toiseen tapaan; tuo on raakaa.\"\n\"Sano minulle mit\u00e4 tahansa, William, min\u00e4 kuuntelen yst\u00e4vyydell\u00e4\",\npyysin nyt min\u00e4, alkaen tuntea liikutusta mieless\u00e4ni, kun\ntoverillanikin kyyneleet vuotivat poskia alas.\n\"Juuri siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4\", puhui William, \"ett\u00e4 ihmiset el\u00e4v\u00e4t kuin eiv\u00e4t\nkoskaan kuolisi, niin monet kuolevat ennen kuin tiet\u00e4v\u00e4t miten el\u00e4\u00e4.\nMutta en min\u00e4 kuolemaa tarkottanut sanoessani, ett\u00e4 oli ajateltava\njotakin t\u00e4m\u00e4n el\u00e4m\u00e4nlaadun j\u00e4lkeen tulevaa. Min\u00e4 tarkotin katumusta.\"\n\"Mutta oletko sin\u00e4 milloinkaan tiennyt merirosvon katuvan?\" huudahdin\nmin\u00e4.\nH\u00e4n s\u00e4ps\u00e4hti hiukan ja vastasi:\n\"Mestauslavalla olen er\u00e4\u00e4n tiennyt, ja toivon sinun olevan toinen.\"\nH\u00e4nen s\u00e4vyns\u00e4 ilmaisi mit\u00e4 hartainta kiintymyst\u00e4 minuun.\n\"No niin, William, kiit\u00e4n sinua; enk\u00e4 ole n\u00e4ille asioille kenties niin\ntunteeton kuin miksi tekeydyn. Mutta anna minun nyt kuulla esityksesi.\"\n\"Esitykseni on yht\u00e4 hyvin sinun hyv\u00e4ksesi kuin omaksenikin\", selitti\nWilliam. \"Voi sattua, ett\u00e4 joskus lopettaisimme t\u00e4llaisen el\u00e4m\u00e4n\nja tekisimme katumuksen; ja minusta tuntuu juuri nyt olevan paras\ntilaisuus meille molemmille, sattuma, joka kenties ei en\u00e4\u00e4 milloinkaan\nniin edullisena uudistu.\"\n\"Minustakin\", puutuin puheeseen, \"on nykyisen el\u00e4m\u00e4n lopettaminen\nensin ja erikseen p\u00e4\u00e4tett\u00e4v\u00e4. Siit\u00e4 toisesta en osaa mit\u00e4\u00e4n sanoa,\nkatumuksesta ja suremisesta, mutta kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni olen kyll\u00e4\nalkaakseni mukana t\u00e4ss\u00e4 ensim\u00e4isess\u00e4 teht\u00e4v\u00e4ss\u00e4.\"\nN\u00e4in Williamin kasvojen kirkastuvan, ja h\u00e4n alkoi luottavaisesti\nselitell\u00e4:\n\"Minulle on tullut mieleen seuraavanlainen suunnitelma: Me olemme nyt\nPersian lahden suulla; l\u00e4het\u00e4 minut purrella Bassoraan myym\u00e4\u00e4n viel\u00e4\nhaltuumme j\u00e4\u00e4neit\u00e4 kiinalaisia tavaroita, niin min\u00e4 takaan osaavani\ntekeyty\u00e4 viattomaksi kauppiaaksi ja myyd\u00e4 tavarat sik\u00e4l\u00e4isille\nenglantilaisille ja hollantilaisille kauppamiehille. Palattuani saan\nedellisen matkan avulla j\u00e4rjestym\u00e4\u00e4n toisen matkan, jolloin minulla on\nmietittyn\u00e4 miten saada sinut t\u00e4ydell\u00e4 syyll\u00e4 mukaan sille retkelle.\nSilloin siirr\u00e4mme siev\u00e4sti osuutemme rahoista purteen ja t\u00e4lt\u00e4 matkalta\nemme palaja. Sin\u00e4 sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin saat miehet siihen p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00f6kseen, ett\u00e4\nl\u00e4hdemme Madagaskarille heti kun olen tullut takaisin.\"\nMe j\u00e4rjestimme piankin kaikki suunnitelmamme yksityiskohdat. Purresta\notettiin pois kaikki kanuunat ja miehist\u00f6ksi asetettiin ainoastaan\nsellaista v\u00e4ke\u00e4, joka sitoutui ehdottomasti olemaan pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4\nlupaa p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 maihin kaupantekosatamassa tai antautumatta puheisiin\nhenkil\u00f6iden kanssa, joita saattaisi tulla alukseen. Valeasun\nt\u00e4ydent\u00e4miseksi William puki kaksi miest\u00e4 kveekareiksi ja opetti\nheid\u00e4t puhumaan kveekarien tapaan; n\u00e4m\u00e4 olivat er\u00e4s haavuri ja er\u00e4s\nvanha matruusi, sukkela\u00e4lyinen mies, joka oli toiminut luotsina Uuden\nEnglannin rannikolla ja osasi erinomaisesti n\u00e4ytell\u00e4. T\u00e4st\u00e4 vanhasta\nluotsista tehtiin mukamas purren kapteeni, haavurista laival\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4ri\nja h\u00e4n itse oli is\u00e4nnist\u00f6n asiamies. Ja niin he lastinsa saatuansa\nl\u00e4htiv\u00e4t matkaan, noin kahdeksantoista miest\u00e4 mukanaan.\nMe odotimme kokonaista kaksi kuukautta Williamin paluuta, ja min\u00e4\naloin toden teolla olla kovasti huolissani, jopa toisinaan pelj\u00e4t\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt minut, houkutellen muut mukanansa. Olin totta\ntosiaan juuri l\u00e4htem\u00e4isill\u00e4ni Madagaskarille, kun h\u00e4n sanomattomaksi\niloksemme palasi, tuoden paljon hy\u00f6dyllisi\u00e4 tarveaineita purressaan,\nsek\u00e4 ampumavaroja ett\u00e4 ruokatarpeita. H\u00e4n teki minulle julkisesti tili\u00e4\npuuhistaan, jottei olisi mit\u00e4\u00e4n ep\u00e4luuloja syntynyt.\nWilliamin tuoma rahasummakin oli varsin juhlallinen, l\u00e4hes satatuhatta\npuntaa, ja nyt h\u00e4n selitteli, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen piti saada tehd\u00e4 toinen matka\nja ett\u00e4 minun oli v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4sti tultava mukaan, etenkin koska yritys\noli h\u00e4nen suulautensa ja varovaisuutensa avulla onnistunut mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nep\u00e4luuloja her\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4. Markkinat olivat kyll\u00e4 olleet hyv\u00e4t, mutta\nuseita tavaroita oli viel\u00e4 myym\u00e4tt\u00e4 ja toisia h\u00e4n oli j\u00e4tt\u00e4nytkin\nBassoraan, sill\u00e4 varsinaisten karavaanien aika ei ollut viel\u00e4 tullut.\nH\u00e4n oli tehnyt sopimuksiakin uusista tavaroista muka.\nMiehet innokkaasti suosivat uuden matkan tekemist\u00e4, yh\u00e4 vain saadakseen\nyhteisen rahavaraston karttumaan, ja heid\u00e4n innostukseensa vaikutti\nmy\u00f6s Williamin huomautus, ett\u00e4 pursi voisi t\u00e4lt\u00e4 matkalta palata\nkokonaan ruokavaroja t\u00e4yteen lastattuna. Min\u00e4 tunnuin olevan haluton\nretkelle, mutta silloin ryhtyi Williamin laival\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4ri vuorostaan\nselittelem\u00e4\u00e4n, ettei voinut ajatellakaan kurin j\u00e4lleenkin s\u00e4ilyv\u00e4n yht\u00e4\nonnellisesti, ellen min\u00e4 olisi ehk\u00e4isem\u00e4ss\u00e4 mahdollisia kavalluksia ja\nvaromattomuuksia sill'aikaa kun nuo kolme tekisiv\u00e4t kauppoja maissa.\nH\u00e4net oli nimitt\u00e4in William ottanut osalliseksi salaisiin aikeisiimme.\nAnnoin v\u00e4hitellen taivuttaa itseni l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n, ja kaikki pitiv\u00e4t matkaa\nnyt turvallisempana, kun min\u00e4kin olisin mukana. Siirsimme ampumavarat\nja muut laivan tarpeet isoon laivaan, s\u00e4lytimme purteen loputkin\nmyyt\u00e4v\u00e4t tavaramme, min\u00e4 toimitin ammatista nyt eroavien osuutta\nvastaavan er\u00e4n rahoja ja kalleuksia -- ja niit\u00e4p\u00e4 olikin uhkea m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 --\nsalaa tavarak\u00e4\u00e4ryjen sekaan ja liikkeelle l\u00e4ksimme.\nEnnen l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4 kutsuin kaikki laivan upseerit neuvotteluun, jossa\nsovittiin, ett\u00e4 laiva odottaisi meit\u00e4 kahdeksankolmatta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4\ner\u00e4\u00e4n pienen saaren luona Arabian puolella lahtea. Jos pursi ei\nsiksi palaisi, niin he purjehtisivat er\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00e4ntisemm\u00e4n saaren luo\nja odottaisivat siell\u00e4 viisitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Ellei purtta viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nkuuluisi, p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4isiv\u00e4t he jonkin tapaturman meit\u00e4 kohdanneen ja\nyhtym\u00e4paikkana olisi sitte Madagaskar.\nMe suuntasimme kulkumme suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 Bassoraan eli Balsoraan. Teimme\nkauppoja kolme tai nelj\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 kauppamiesten asumassa isossa\nkyl\u00e4ss\u00e4, huolimatta menn\u00e4 varsinaiseen kaupunkiin ennen kuin salainen\naikeemme oli pantu t\u00e4yt\u00e4nt\u00f6\u00f6n. Enin osa lastia tulikin jo siten\nmyydyksi. Ostettuamme useita tavaroita ja valmistauduttuamme ostamaan\nlis\u00e4\u00e4 oli veneemme rannassa ja sen miehist\u00f6n\u00e4 kaikkiaan kaksitoista\nmiest\u00e4. Min\u00e4, William, l\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4ri sek\u00e4 er\u00e4s nelj\u00e4s, jonka olimme valinneet\nerilleen, olimme asioilla ja juuri iltah\u00e4myss\u00e4 me nelj\u00e4 saimme\nl\u00e4hetetyksi er\u00e4\u00e4n turkkilaisen viem\u00e4\u00e4n puosmannille kirjett\u00e4. Antaen\nmiehelle toimeksi juosta mink\u00e4 k\u00e4p\u00e4list\u00e4 l\u00e4hti me j\u00e4imme piiloon\nkatselemaan seurauksia. Kirjeeseen oli l\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4ri laatinut sis\u00e4ll\u00f6ksi:\n\"PUOSMANNI TUOMAS: -- Me olemme kaikki kavalletut. Jumalan nimess\u00e4\npelastautukaa veneell\u00e4 ja kiirehtik\u00e4\u00e4 purteen, muutoin olette hukassa.\nKapteeni, William kveekari ja George uskonsa-muuttaja on siepattu\nkiinni; min\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sin pakoon ja piilouduin, mutta en voi liikahtaa\nminnek\u00e4\u00e4n, muutoin minut perii kuolema. Heti purteen tultuanne l\u00e4htek\u00e4\u00e4\nmatkaan henkenne edest\u00e4. Hyv\u00e4sti! -- R. S.\"\nMe n\u00e4imme turkkilaisen viev\u00e4n perille kirjeen, ja kolmessa minuutissa\nkiirehtiv\u00e4t miehet veneeseen ja alkoivat vimmatusti soutaa. Heti\npurteen p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4ns\u00e4 he n\u00e4kyiv\u00e4t noudattaneen neuvoa, sill\u00e4 aamulla\nolivat he n\u00e4kym\u00e4tt\u00f6miss\u00e4 emmek\u00e4 heist\u00e4 sen koommin ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n kuulleet.\nOlimme nyt hyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 paikassa, Bassoraan menty\u00e4mme, ja mukavissa oloissa,\nme kun olimme ly\u00f6tt\u00e4ytyneet persialaisiksi kauppiaiksi. Toverimme\noli tehokkaasti peloteltu pois, ja meill\u00e4 ei ollut muuta ajateltavaa\nkuin v\u00e4hitellen puuhata itsemme Europaan rikkauksinemme, jotka tosin\nsuunnattomalla paljoudellaankaan eiv\u00e4t minussa en\u00e4\u00e4 iloa her\u00e4tt\u00e4neet,\nsill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olin alkanut yh\u00e4 raskaammin mietiskell\u00e4 sit\u00e4 tapaa, jolla ne\noli haalittu.\nSatuimme hyv\u00e4ksi onneksi tutustumaan er\u00e4\u00e4seen hollantilaiseen, joka\noli matkustanut Bengalista Agraan, Suur-Mogulin p\u00e4\u00e4kaupunkiin, sielt\u00e4\ntullut maitse Malabarin rannikolle ja jollakin laivalla Persian\nlahdelle. H\u00e4nen aikomuksenaan oli menn\u00e4 yl\u00f6s virtaa Bagdadiin sek\u00e4\nsielt\u00e4 karavaanilla Aleppoon. Kun William puhui hollanninkielt\u00e4 ja\noli kaikin puolin miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4 mies, niin me piankin jouduimme h\u00e4nen\nkanssaan l\u00e4heisiin v\u00e4leihin ja p\u00e4\u00e4timme kulkea h\u00e4nen mukanaan. H\u00e4nell\u00e4\noli seurueenansa useita palvelijoita, yksi niist\u00e4 armenialainen, jonka\nh\u00e4n oli opettanut puhumaan hollantia.\nPian olimme pukeutuneet komeisiin persialaisiin asuihin ja annoimme\npartamme kasvaa kuten persialaiset, ja me saimme kiitt\u00e4\u00e4 hollantilaista\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4mme siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n senkin kaiken hommasi puolestamme, sill\u00e4\nmeh\u00e4n emme persialaisuudestamme huolimatta osanneet kielest\u00e4 sanaakaan.\nEnglantilaisia kauppiaita karttelimme kerrassaan, hollantilaisen\nt\u00e4t\u00e4 huomaamatta. Viivyimme Bassorassa kaikkiaan kolmisen kuukautta,\nja siell\u00e4 alkoi mieleni synkistymist\u00e4ns\u00e4 synkisty\u00e4. Toisiin oloihin\njouduttuani ja Williamin sanojen her\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4n\u00e4 olin alkanut ajatella\nitsest\u00e4ni ja maailmasta aivan toiseen tapaan kuin ennen. Yh\u00e4 el\u00e4v\u00e4mmin\ntunsin, ett\u00e4 tilinteon aika oli l\u00e4henem\u00e4ss\u00e4, ett\u00e4 katumus kaiketi jo\noli my\u00f6h\u00e4ist\u00e4kin. Omaisuuteni ei ollut minusta muuta kuin multaa, jonka\ns\u00e4ilytt\u00e4misest\u00e4 en yht\u00e4\u00e4n v\u00e4litt\u00e4nyt; maalliset harrastukseni katosivat.\nWilliam oli kyll\u00e4 havainnut raskasmielisyyteni, mutta ei ollut\nsiihen viel\u00e4 kajonnut, kun min\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 iltana k\u00e4velyll\u00e4 kaupungin\nulkopuolella itse\u00e4mme viillytelless\u00e4mme aloin puhua h\u00e4nelle v\u00e4\u00e4rin\nsaadun rikkautemme j\u00e4tt\u00e4misest\u00e4. H\u00e4n oli viisas ja varovainen mies,\nja kaikki minun k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytymiseni oli jo pitk\u00e4n aikaa ollut kokonaan\nh\u00e4nen neuvojensa mukaan sovitettua. Niinp\u00e4 oli h\u00e4nen huolekseen nytkin\nj\u00e4\u00e4nyt kaikki Europan-matkamme turvaaminen ja valmisteleminen, ja h\u00e4n\noli juuri tehnyt minulle selv\u00e4\u00e4 muutamista toimenpiteist\u00e4, joihin oli\nryhtynyt kotimatkamme ja omaisuutemme suojelemiseksi. Silloin min\u00e4\n\u00e4kki\u00e4 keskeytin h\u00e4net.\n\"Mit\u00e4, William\", huudahdin, \"luuletko meid\u00e4n konsanaan p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4n\nEuropaan kaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n lastin keralla, mik\u00e4 meill\u00e4 on hallussamme?\"\n\"Luulenpa tietenkin\", arveli William, \"niinkuin muutkin kauppiaat\nviev\u00e4t tavaransa perille, kunhan vain ei tule julkisesti tiedoksi, mit\u00e4\nkaikkea meill\u00e4 on mukanamme muutakin kuin purresta haltuumme j\u00e4\u00e4neet\nkauppatavarat.\"\n\"Mutta voitko sin\u00e4 luulla\", intin katkerasti hymyillen, \"ett\u00e4 jos\nJumala on olemassa kuten olet minulle niin kauvan vakuutellut, ja jos\nmeid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyy joutua H\u00e4nen edess\u00e4\u00e4n tilille -- voitko luulla, ett\u00e4 jos\nH\u00e4n on vanhurskas tuomari, H\u00e4n antaa meid\u00e4n siten livist\u00e4\u00e4 saaliinemme,\nniin monilta viattomilta ihmisilt\u00e4 ry\u00f6stettyine rikkauksinemme,\nkutsumatta meit\u00e4 tilille siit\u00e4 ennen kuin p\u00e4\u00e4semme Europaan, miss\u00e4 muka\nnauttisimme ylt\u00e4kyll\u00e4isyydest\u00e4mme?\"\nWilliamia n\u00e4ytti kysymys h\u00e4tk\u00e4hdytt\u00e4v\u00e4n ja h\u00e4mm\u00e4stytt\u00e4v\u00e4n, eik\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nvastannut pitk\u00e4\u00e4n toviin. Min\u00e4 uudistin kysymykseni, lis\u00e4ten omana\nvakaumuksenani, ettei sellaista voinut odottaakaan. Tuokion kuluttua\nsanoi William:\n\"Esit\u00e4tp\u00e4 siin\u00e4 hyvin painavan kysymyksen, enk\u00e4 voi siihen mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nvarmaa vastausta antaa. Mutta min\u00e4 sovitan vastaukseni seuraavasti:\nOn ensiksikin totta, ett\u00e4 meill\u00e4 Jumalan vanhurskautta ajatellessamme\nei ole v\u00e4hint\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n syyt\u00e4 odottaa mit\u00e4\u00e4n suojelusta. Mutta kun\nKaitselmuksen tiet ovat kokonaan toiset kuin inhimilliset aivoitukset,\nniin voimme viel\u00e4 toivoa osaksemme laupeutta, katumuksemme j\u00e4lkeen,\nemmek\u00e4 tied\u00e4 kuinka armollinen H\u00e4n saattaa meille olla. Meid\u00e4n tulee\nsiis toimia niin kuin pikemmin luottaisimme t\u00e4h\u00e4n viimeksi mainittuun,\nlaupeuteen nimitt\u00e4in, sen sijaan ett\u00e4 vaatisimme itsellemme tuomiota ja\ntaivaan kostoa.\"\n\"Mutta kuulehan, William\", huomautin min\u00e4, \"katumukseenhan kuuluu\nparannuksen tekeminen, kuten olet minulle vihjaillut, emmek\u00e4 me voi\nkoskaan tehd\u00e4 parannusta. Miten siis voimme katua?\"\n\"Miksi emme voi parannusta koskaan tehd\u00e4?\" kysyi William.\n\"Siksi ett\u00e4 me emme voi milloinkaan palauttaa mit\u00e4 olemme riist\u00e4neet ja\nrosvonneet.\"\n\"Sit\u00e4 emme kyll\u00e4 tosiaankaan voi tehd\u00e4\", my\u00f6nsi William, \"kun kerran\nemme mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n saa oikeita omistajia tietoomme. Mutta omaisuudestamme\nluopuminen ja sen heitt\u00e4minen k\u00e4sist\u00e4mme t\u00e4nne ei olisi sen oikeata\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4mist\u00e4; siten vain rikastuttaisimme aivan ansaitsematonta v\u00e4ke\u00e4.\nSen sijaan meid\u00e4n tulee sit\u00e4 huolellisesti vaalia, ja edist\u00e4\u00e4 sill\u00e4\nmit\u00e4 oikeata voimme; ja kuka tiet\u00e4\u00e4 mit\u00e4 tilaisuuksia Kaitselmus suonee\nmeille tehd\u00e4ksemme oikeutta ainakin joillekuille niist\u00e4, joille olemme\nv\u00e4\u00e4ryytt\u00e4 telineet? Meid\u00e4n tulee siis ainakin j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 ratkaisu H\u00e4nelle\nja k\u00e4yd\u00e4 tiet\u00e4mme. Ehdottomasti on nykyisen\u00e4 velvollisuutenamme pyrki\u00e4\njohonkin turvapaikkaan, miss\u00e4 voimme odottaa H\u00e4nen tahtoansa.\"\nWilliamin selv\u00e4 j\u00e4rki teki minuun varsin edullisen vaikutuksen; ja\nellei William olisi siten tyynnytellyt mielt\u00e4ni, niin olisin varmaankin\ntaivaan kostoa kauhistuen paennut kaiken kehnosti saadun varallisuuteni\nparista, kammoten sit\u00e4 paholaisen kirouksena, joka tuottaisi minulle\nvarman kadotuksen, jos koettaisin sit\u00e4 hallussani pit\u00e4\u00e4. Uutta yh\u00e4\nraskaampana taakkana oli minulle kaikki rikkauteni. Se oli muiden\nihmisten omaisuutta, viattomilta tunnottomasti rosvottua, enk\u00e4 min\u00e4\nvoinut konnuudestani muuta ansaita kuin hirsipuun t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja kadotuksen\ntulevaisessa el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4. Vihasin itse\u00e4ni mit\u00e4 katkerimmin, ja kun minun\noli mahdoton palauttaa osaakaan ry\u00f6st\u00e4milleni takaisin, niin juuttui\nyh\u00e4 mieleeni, etten voisi katuakaan. Katumus ei n\u00e4hd\u00e4kseni voinut olla\nvilpit\u00f6n ilman palautusta, ja sent\u00e4hden t\u00e4ytyi minun ehdottomasti olla\nkadotettu.\nMinulla ei ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n pelastuksen mahdollisuutta. Vaivuin mit\u00e4\nkamalimpaan ep\u00e4toivoon enk\u00e4 lopulta voinut ajatella mit\u00e4\u00e4n muuta kuin\nmiten eri\u00e4isin t\u00e4st\u00e4 maailmasta. Tosiaankin pahahenki, jos t\u00e4llaiset\nkiusaukset ovat pahanhengen ty\u00f6t\u00e4, teki teht\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 uutterasti, ja\nuseaan p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n en muuta ajatellut kuin ampua pistoolilla kuulan\naivohini. Mutta Jumala oli armossaan liitt\u00e4nyt William kveekarin\nainaiseksi yst\u00e4v\u00e4kseni ja sek\u00e4 hengelliseksi ett\u00e4 maalliseksi\nneuvonantajakseni. Er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 iltana vein h\u00e4net tavanmukaiselle\nyksin\u00e4iselle k\u00e4velyllemme tavallista h\u00e4t\u00e4isemmin. Kerroin sielunh\u00e4t\u00e4ni\nja pahanhengen hirve\u00e4t kiusaamiset, ilmottaen vakaasti p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neeni\nampua itseni, min\u00e4 kun en voinut kest\u00e4\u00e4 hirmuista ahdistustani.\n\"Ampua itsesi!\" huudahti William; \"mutta mit\u00e4 siit\u00e4 hy\u00f6dyt?\"\n\"No se tekee lopun viheli\u00e4isest\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4.\"\n\"Mutta oletko vakuutettu siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 tulevainen on parempi?\"\n\"En, en\", sanoin ahdistuneena; \"paljoa pahempi varmasti.\"\n\"Mutta sittep\u00e4 on ajatuksesi ehdottomasti pahanhengen her\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4; sill\u00e4\nonpa totisesti kehno syy pahan pulan takia jouduttaa itsens\u00e4 pahempaan.\"\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 tosiaankin tehosi j\u00e4rkeen!\n\"Mutta minun on kuitenkin mahdoton siet\u00e4\u00e4 nykyist\u00e4 tuskaani\", voihkasin.\n\"Ja kuitenkin aijot kest\u00e4\u00e4 viel\u00e4 kauheampaakin tuskaa\", muistutti\nWilliam, \"ja ammut siis itsesi, jotta olisit auttamattomissa?\"\n\"Min\u00e4 olen auttamattomissa.\"\n\"Mist\u00e4 sen tied\u00e4t?\"\n\"Olen siit\u00e4 vakuutettu.\"\n\"Niin, mutta varma et siit\u00e4 voi olla\", puheli h\u00e4n; \"varmistuaksesi\nsiis ammut itsesi, sill\u00e4 totisesti oletkin heti haudan tuolle puolen\njouduttuasi kadotettu, kun sit\u00e4vastoin t\u00e4ll\u00e4 puolen saatat vain pelj\u00e4t\u00e4\ntulevasi kadotetuksi.\"\n\"Minulla oli menn\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 kauhistuttavia unia. Paholainen oli tulevinaan\nluokseni kysym\u00e4\u00e4n, mik\u00e4 nimeni on ja ammattini. Sen min\u00e4 sanoin, ja\nsain vastaukseksi: 'Oikeaan osasin mieheen; olen sinua etsiskellyt.\nTule nyt vain mukaan.' Min\u00e4 kiljahtelin kauhuissani niin ett\u00e4 her\u00e4sin\nomaan \u00e4\u00e4neeni; ja se painajainen ahdistelee minua p\u00e4iv\u00e4kaudetkin.\"\n\"Vai niin\", sanoi William painavasti; \"annappa t\u00e4nne se pistoolisi.\"\n\"Mutta mit\u00e4 sin\u00e4 sill\u00e4 teet?\"\n\"Mit\u00e4k\u00f6 teen!\" kivahti William. \"No, sinun ei tarvitse ampua itse\u00e4si,\nsill\u00e4 minun on pakko tehd\u00e4 se jo aikaisemmin. Sin\u00e4h\u00e4n tuhoat meid\u00e4t\nkaikki huikkailemalla unissasi ammattiasi! Olipa onni, ettei\nhollantilainen ymm\u00e4rr\u00e4 englantia. Mutta oman henkeni s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4miseksi\nt\u00e4ytyy minun tehd\u00e4 loppu sinusta! T\u00e4nne pistooli!\"\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 hirmustutti minua taas toisin tavoin, \u00e4lytess\u00e4ni millaisen turmion\nvoisin saada aikaan. Itseni ampumista en sen koommin ajatellut, ja\nWilliam sai minua muutenkin melkoisessa m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ss\u00e4 rauhoitetuksi, etenkin\nkun nyt tiesin toverienikin kohtalon riippuvan k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytymisest\u00e4ni.\nVakavasti selitteli minulle William, ett\u00e4 katumukseeni kyll\u00e4 kuului\nsyv\u00e4llinen inho rikoksiani kohtaan, mutta ett\u00e4 siihen ei saanut liitty\u00e4\nJumalan laupeuden ep\u00e4ileminen, joka p\u00e4in vastoin kietoisi minut\npahanhengen pauloihin. Minun tuli vilpitt\u00f6m\u00e4sti ja n\u00f6yr\u00e4sti tunnustaa\nJumalalle pahat tekoni, anoa H\u00e4nelt\u00e4 anteeksiantoa, ja heitt\u00e4yty\u00e4 H\u00e4nen\narmonsa turviin, p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en palautella riist\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4ni omaisuutta vaikkapa\nviimeiseen penniin asti, jos Jumala n\u00e4kisi hyv\u00e4ksi antaa minulle\ntilaisuutta siihen. T\u00e4h\u00e4n menettelyyn sanoi h\u00e4n itse t\u00e4hd\u00e4nneens\u00e4\nmielens\u00e4 ja se oli tuonut h\u00e4nelle lohdutusta.\nSiit\u00e4 asti William kaikessa varovaisuudessaan minun mielentilaani\nn\u00e4hden oli huonetoverinani ja karttoi kaikkia asuntoja, miss\u00e4 voitiin\nymm\u00e4rt\u00e4\u00e4 englantia. Mutta min\u00e4 saavutin piankin rauhallisemman olon,\nlujasti p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neen\u00e4 viett\u00e4\u00e4 uutta el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4. Rikkauttani en en\u00e4\u00e4 pit\u00e4nyt\nomanani, vaan lainana, jolla tekisin sellaista oikeutta kuin Jumala\nminut ohjaisi havaitsemaan. Ihmeellisen tilaisuuden sainkin sittemmin\ner\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4vi\u00f6lle joutuneen perheen pelastamiseen, jonka minun toimintani\noli sy\u00f6ssyt k\u00f6yhyyteen.\nHollantilaisen johdolla vuokrattuamme joitakuita veneit\u00e4 me l\u00e4ksimme\nTigris-virtaa my\u00f6ten Bagdadiin. Meill\u00e4 oli varsin huomattava\ntavaravarasto mukanamme, joten me siell\u00e4 her\u00e4timme suurta kunnioitusta.\nErityisesti mainittakoon kaksiviidett\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4ry\u00e4 kaikenlaisia intialaisia\nkankaita, kuten silkki\u00e4, musliinia ja hienoa sitsi\u00e4; kiinalaisia\nsilkkej\u00e4 oli meill\u00e4 viisitoista k\u00e4\u00e4ry\u00e4, kaikki purrestamme k\u00e4siimme\nj\u00e4\u00e4nytt\u00e4. Teimme niill\u00e4 edullisia kauppoja, ostimme karavaanimatkaamme\nvarten kameeleja ja ruokavaroja ja l\u00e4ksimme aavikkotaipaleellemme.\nKultamme, jalokivemme ja helmemme pidimme n\u00e4kym\u00e4tt\u00f6miss\u00e4, mutta min\u00e4 en\nkoko matkalla ollut niist\u00e4 huolissani, uskoen ett\u00e4 kun olin rikkauteni\nry\u00f6st\u00f6ll\u00e4 hankkinut, Jumala sen my\u00f6skin s\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4isi minulta j\u00e4lleen\nsamalla tavalla otettavaksi; ja luulenpa voivani sanoa, ett\u00e4 olisin\nkernaasti suonutkin niin tapahtuvan. Mutta samaten kuin minulla oli\narmollinen Suojelija yl\u00e4puolellani, oli minulla mit\u00e4 uskollisin yst\u00e4v\u00e4\nja holhooja sivullani pit\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4 ainaista huolta sek\u00e4 minusta itsest\u00e4ni\nett\u00e4 omaisuudestani. Kahdessa kuukaudessa saavuimme Bassorasta Alepon\nkautta Aleksandriaan.\nSiell\u00e4 me kaikki, nelj\u00e4 entist\u00e4 merirosvoa neuvottelimme mit\u00e4\ntekisimme. Toiset kaksi p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t l\u00e4hte\u00e4 hollantilaisen seuralaisemme\nmukana h\u00e4nen kotimaahansa, satamassa kun sattui olemaan hollantilainen\nlaiva. William ja min\u00e4 taasen sanoimme asettuvamme Moreaan, joka\nsilloin kuului Venetsialle. Emme varovaisuuden vuoksi ilmoittaneet\nheille matkamme oikeata m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\u00e4, mutta saimme kuitenkin j\u00e4rjestetyksi\ntavan, jolla tulevaisina vuosina pysyimme heid\u00e4n kanssaan\nkirjeenvaihdossa. Rauhallisesti on heid\u00e4nkin uusi uransa muodostunut.\nLopulta l\u00e4ksimme Venetsiaan, kun tapasimme sinne menev\u00e4n laivan.\nTurvallisesti saavuimme kolmessa viikossa perille kaikkine aarteinemme\nja sellainen lasti mukana, ettei liene viel\u00e4 kaksi yksityist\u00e4 miest\u00e4\nmoista tuonut tuohon rikkaaseenkaan kaupunkiin. Nyt oleskelimme siell\u00e4\narmenialaisina kauppiaina, ja olimmekin jo oppineet niin paljon\narmenialaista ja persialaista mongerrusta, ett\u00e4 saatoimme puhella\nkesken\u00e4mme kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n meit\u00e4 ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4, vaikka toisinaan tuskin\nymm\u00e4rsimme itsek\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMuutimme v\u00e4hin erin viimeisetkin tavaramme rahaksi, asetuimme\npitempiaikaiseen asuntoon ja eleskelimme kuin veljekset,\nKumpaisellakaan ei ollut mit\u00e4\u00e4n erillisi\u00e4 harrastuksia; me puhelimme\npaljon vakavista asioista, ja Venetsiassa pidettiin meit\u00e4 hyvin\nkunnianarvoisina kreikkalaisina liikemiehin\u00e4.\nJonkun ajan kuluttua kertoi William alkaneensa ajatella, ettei h\u00e4n\nen\u00e4\u00e4 saisi Englantia n\u00e4hd\u00e4kseen, ja ettei se h\u00e4ness\u00e4 todellakaan en\u00e4\u00e4\nkovin suurta kaipuuta her\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt. Mutta kun olimme voittaneet niin\nsuunnattomia rikkauksia ja kun h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli muutamia k\u00f6yhi\u00e4 sukulaisia\nEnglannissa, niin h\u00e4nen teki mieli kirjeellisesti tiedustaa heid\u00e4n\nolojansa ja kenties l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 avustustakin sellaisille ansaitseville,\njotka viel\u00e4 olivat elossa. Min\u00e4 suostuin siihen mielell\u00e4ni. Niinp\u00e4\nkirjotti William sisarelleen ja er\u00e4\u00e4lle sed\u00e4lleen, saaden noin viiden\nviikon kuluttua vastauksen kumpaiseltakin, osotteenansa Signore\nConstantine Alexion, Ispahanista.\nSisareltaan h\u00e4n sai hyvin liikuttavan kirjeen, joka ilmaisi mit\u00e4\nsyd\u00e4mellisint\u00e4 riemastusta siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli hengiss\u00e4, sitte kun\nh\u00e4nelle oli jo ammoin ilmotettu veljens\u00e4 saaneen surmansa merirosvojen\nk\u00e4siss\u00e4 L\u00e4nsi-Intiassa. Sisar pyyteli velje\u00e4 ilmottamaan, millaiset\nh\u00e4nen olosuhteensa olivat; itsell\u00e4\u00e4n ei h\u00e4nell\u00e4 ollut tilaisuutta\nsuuriakaan tehd\u00e4 h\u00e4nen hyv\u00e4kseen, mutta tervetullut syd\u00e4men pohjasta\nolisi h\u00e4n sisarensa luokse. H\u00e4n oli j\u00e4\u00e4nyt leskeksi nelj\u00e4n lapsen\nkanssa, mutta h\u00e4n piti pikku puotia, jolla sai jotenkuten el\u00e4tetyksi\nperheens\u00e4. H\u00e4n oli l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt veljellens\u00e4 viisi puntaa silt\u00e4 varalta,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n vieraassa maassa tarvitsisi rahaa kotiin p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksens\u00e4.\nKirje tuotti kyyneleet Williamin silmiin ja kovin liikutettu olin\nmin\u00e4kin.\n\"Mit\u00e4 tekisin t\u00e4m\u00e4n kelpo naisen hyv\u00e4ksi?\"\n\"H\u00e4n on l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt sinulle viisi puntaa\", puhelin min\u00e4 tovin\nmietiskelty\u00e4ni; \"ja h\u00e4nell\u00e4 on nelj\u00e4 lasta el\u00e4tett\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4 sek\u00e4 oma\nitsens\u00e4 viidenten\u00e4. Sellainen summa on k\u00f6yh\u00e4lle vaimolle h\u00e4nen\nolosuhteissaan samaa kuin viisituhatta puntaa meille. L\u00e4het\u00e4\nh\u00e4nelle viidentuhannen punnan maksuosotus ja pyyd\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 salaamaan\nkummastuksensa siit\u00e4, kunnes taas saa tietoja sinusta, mutta j\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\npuotinsa ja ottamaan talon jostakin maaseudulta l\u00e4helt\u00e4 Lontoota,\nsiell\u00e4 eleskell\u00e4kseen kohtuulliselta n\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4ll\u00e4 tavalla, odotellen\nsinulta j\u00e4lleen uusia viestej\u00e4.\"\n\"Tuostapa n\u00e4en, ett\u00e4 sinulla p\u00e4lyilee joitakin ajatuksia takaisin\nEnglantiin uskaltamisesta\", sanoi William.\n\"Siin\u00e4 toden totta erehdyt; mutta juolahtihan vain mieleeni, ett\u00e4 sinun\nsopisi uskaltaa, sill\u00e4 mit\u00e4 olet sin\u00e4 tehnyt sellaista, ettei sinun\nk\u00e4visi p\u00e4ins\u00e4 siell\u00e4 n\u00e4ytt\u00e4yty\u00e4? Miksi haluaisin pid\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 sinua poissa\nomaistesi parista pelk\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n omaksi seurakseni?\"\n\"Ei mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n\", huudahti William l\u00e4mpim\u00e4sti; \"olemme retkeilleet\nniin kauvan yhdess\u00e4 ja tulleet toveruksina niin pitk\u00e4lle, ett\u00e4 olen\np\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt el\u00e4m\u00e4ni ij\u00e4n pysy\u00e4 sinun seurassasi. Ja mit\u00e4 sisareeni tulee,\nniin en voi l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle niin suurta rahasummaa, sill\u00e4 kenen on\nkaikki t\u00e4m\u00e4 raha mik\u00e4 meill\u00e4 on? Enin osa on sinun.\"\n\"Ei, William\", vakuutin min\u00e4, \"minulla ei ole penni\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, mik\u00e4 ei\nsamalla ole sinun. Kaikki on ehdottomasti tasattava, ja ellet sin\u00e4\nl\u00e4het\u00e4 summaa h\u00e4nelle, niin l\u00e4het\u00e4n min\u00e4.\"\n\"Mutta se s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdytt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4net ihan j\u00e4rjilt\u00e4\u00e4n\", esteli William.\n\"No, menetelk\u00e4\u00e4mme varovasti. L\u00e4het\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle sadan punnan maksuosotus\nja pyyd\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ensi tilassa odottamaan lis\u00e4\u00e4, luvaten l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle\nniin paljon, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tulisi toimeen pit\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 puotia.\"\nWilliam l\u00e4hettikin h\u00e4nelle hyvin yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisen kirjeen ja liitti mukaan\nsadankuudenkymmenen punnan maksuosotuksen, huomauttaen voivansa lyhyen\najan kuluttua kartuttaa lahjaansa. Kymmenkunta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4lkeenp\u00e4in\nh\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti viisisataanelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4 puntaa ja paria p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 my\u00f6hemmin\ntaaskin kolmesataa puntaa, mainiten l\u00e4hettelev\u00e4ns\u00e4 tarpeeksi paljon,\njotta sisar voisi maaseudulta hankkia talon.\nH\u00e4n odotti sitte vastausta kaikkiin kolmeen kirjeeseens\u00e4, ja sisar\nilmotti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli vastaanottanut rahat, mutta pysynyt hiiskumatta\nkenellek\u00e4\u00e4n koko asiasta; h\u00e4n ei ollut edes maininnut veljens\u00e4\nolevan elossa, pit\u00e4en viisaampana ensin kysy\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n mielt\u00e4 olojensa\ntunnetuiksi tekemisest\u00e4.\n\"Hei, William\", huudahdin min\u00e4 tuon kirjeen n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ni, \"t\u00e4lle naiselle\nvoipi uskoa mit\u00e4 tahansa ja henkens\u00e4kin. L\u00e4het\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle loputkin noista\nviidest\u00e4tuhannesta punnasta, niin uskallan l\u00e4hte\u00e4 kerallasi Englantiin\nh\u00e4nen asumukseensa milloin vaan tahdot.\"\nL\u00e4hetys toimitettiin. Sisar ilmotti kohdakkoin, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli set\u00e4ns\u00e4\nsilmiss\u00e4 tekeytynyt sairaaksi ja kykenem\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4ksi jatkamaan liikett\u00e4\u00e4n\nsek\u00e4 ottanut ison rakennuksen l\u00e4hell\u00e4 Lontoota, ollen aikovinaan\nantaa asuntoja vuokralle elannokseen. Kaikesta p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en tuntui h\u00e4n\nk\u00e4sitt\u00e4v\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 veli jostakin syyst\u00e4 tahtoi kotimaahansa palattuaan\noleskella tuntemattomana ja kaikilta ihmisilt\u00e4 rauhassa.\nSiten avautui meille ovi, jonka olimme katsoneet koko el\u00e4m\u00e4mme ajaksi\nmeilt\u00e4 sulkeutuneen. Me p\u00e4\u00e4timme kaikessa salaisuudessa palata\nsynnyinmaahamme. William kiitteli sisarensa j\u00e4rkevyytt\u00e4 ja ilmotti\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n arvanneen oikein siin\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tahtoi tulla takaisin kokonaan\nuutena miehen\u00e4. Viel\u00e4p\u00e4 toisi h\u00e4n mukanaan mit\u00e4 rakkaimman yst\u00e4v\u00e4n,\njoka my\u00f6skin puolestaan l\u00e4hetti h\u00e4nelle viisituhatta puntaa. Siten\nteimme tuon k\u00f6yh\u00e4n vaimon perheen rikkaaksi; ja kuitenkin petti\nurheuteni, kun oli ratkaiseva askel otettava, enk\u00e4 uskaltanut l\u00e4hte\u00e4.\nKun William ei suostunut hievahtamaankaan ilman minua, niin pysyimme\nalallamme viel\u00e4 kaksi vuotta, pohtien mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4.\nMinulla ei ollut ainoatakaan yst\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 maailmassa, enk\u00e4\ntiennyt miten olisin voinut k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 suuria varojani mihink\u00e4\u00e4n\nhyv\u00e4ntekev\u00e4isyystarkotuksiinkaan. Siten olin ensim\u00e4isen lahjotukseni\ntehnyt tuolle naiselle, jonka aulis yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyys velje\u00e4ns\u00e4 kohtaan\nilmaisi jaloa ja hyv\u00e4ntekev\u00e4ist\u00e4 luonnetta; ja toivoin h\u00e4nen avullaan\nsaavani toiminta-alaa vastaiselle el\u00e4m\u00e4lleni. Mutta, kuten sanoin,\nennen lopullista Englantiin l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4 valtasi minut mit\u00e4 tuskallisin\nep\u00e4r\u00f6iminen, samalla kun Williamin sisar yht\u00e4mittaa valitteli, ett\u00e4 me\nn\u00e4ht\u00e4v\u00e4sti emme lopultakaan luottaneet h\u00e4neen ja h\u00e4nen huolenpitoonsa,\nvaikka olimme korvaamattomassa m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ss\u00e4 saattaneet h\u00e4net kiitollisuuden\nvelkaan.\nViimein aloin taipua ja sanoin Williamille:\n\"Veli William, jos lupaat minulle pari kolme seikkaa, niin l\u00e4hden\nreippaalla mielell\u00e4 Englantiin.\"\n\"Annas kuulua\", huudahti William.\n\"Ensinn\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n et saa ilmaista itse\u00e4si Englannissa ainoallekaan muulle\nomaisellesi kuin sisarellesi -- et ainoallekaan. Toisekseen t\u00e4ytyy\nmeid\u00e4n pit\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4yspartamme ja edelleenkin k\u00e4yd\u00e4 kreikkalaisista.\nKolmanneksi emme saa milloinkaan julkisuudessa puhua englantia, ja\nnelj\u00e4nneksi el\u00e4mme aina yhdess\u00e4 ja olemme veljeksin\u00e4.\"\nWilliam suostui kaikkiin ehtoihin, mutta englanninkielen kaihtaminen\nolisi h\u00e4nelle vaikeinta, vaikka h\u00e4n siin\u00e4kin kohdassa yritt\u00e4isi\nparhaansa. J\u00e4tetty\u00e4mme suuria rahasummia isompien ulkomaisten\nsatamakaupunkien pankkeihin me l\u00e4ksimme laivalla Genuasta ja saavuimme\nrauhassa perille niin ylellisin varustuksin kuin it\u00e4maalaiset pohatat\nkonsanaan. Jonkun aikaa my\u00f6hemmin min\u00e4 menin naimisiin uskollisen\nsuojelijattareni, Williamin sisaren kanssa, ja olen paljoa onnellisempi\nkuin ansaitsen.\nOlen selke\u00e4sti ilmaissut teille palanneeni Englantiin, ensin rohkeasti\npaljastettuani millaista el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4 olen ulkomailla viett\u00e4nyt. Siksi on\nminun parasta jo heti lopettaa, jotteiv\u00e4t jotkut olisi halukkaita liian\ntarkoin tiedustelemaan vanhaa yst\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4nne KAPTEENI BOB'ia.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Kapteeni Singletonin seikkailut, by Daniel Defoe", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Kapteeni Singletonin seikkailut\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " German\n", "content": "Produced by Peter Becker, Heike Leichsenring and the Online\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\nAnmerkungen zur Transkription:\nUmschlie\u00dfungen mit * zeigen \"gesperrt\" gedruckten Text an,\nUmschlie\u00dfungen mit _ Text, der im Original in einer anderen Schriftart\ndargestellt war, Umschlie\u00dfungen mit = fettgedruckten Text.\nOffensichtliche Druckfehler wurden berichtigt. Im \u00dcbrigen wurden\nInkonsistenzen in der Interpunktion und Schreibweise einzelner W\u00f6rter\nbelassen.\nIm Original endet jedes Kapitel mit einer ornamentalen Illustration.\nVerweise auf diese sind f\u00fcr die reine Textfassung entfernt worden.\n[Illustration: Robinson und seine Familie.]\n              Reisen, wunderbare Abenteuer und Erlebnisse\n              F\u00fcrs Deutsche bearbeitet nach dem Original\n  nebst *vier* Farbendruckbildern nach Zeichnungen von *F. H. Nicholson*\n                       *Verlag von Otto Spamer*\n*Inhalt*\nErstes Kapitel.\n  =Robinsons Jugend und erste Fahrten, von ihm selbst erz\u00e4hlt=         1\nRobinsons Herkunft. -- Hang zum Seeleben. -- Unterredung mit seinem\nVater. -- Besuch in Hull. -- Er geht zur See. -- Sturm. -- Des Schiffes\nUntergang auf der Reede zu Yarmouth. -- Robinsons Unschl\u00fcssigkeit. --\nReise nach London.\nZweites Kapitel.\n  =Robinsons Gefangenschaft und Flucht=                               16\nRobinsons Gefangenschaft in Saleh. -- Flucht mit Xury. -- Ankunft in\nBrasilien.\nDrittes Kapitel.\n  =Robinson als brasilischer Pflanzer=                                24\nRobinsons Aufenthalt in Brasilien als Pflanzer. -- Eine neue Reise. --\nSchiffbruch.\nViertes Kapitel.\nRobinson schwimmt an das Wrack. -- Erbauung eines Flosses. --\nGl\u00fcckliche Landung mit der Fracht. -- T\u00e4gliche Fahrten nach dem Wrack.\n-- Errichtung seiner Wohnung. -- Erbeutung von Ziegen. -- Robinsons\nKalender. -- Tagebuch.\nF\u00fcnftes Kapitel.\nNeujahr. -- Sicherung der H\u00fctte. -- Wilde Tauben. -- Beleuchtung.\n-- Getreide\u00e4hren. -- Erdbeben. -- Ein Schleifstein. -- Ein F\u00e4\u00dfchen\nPulver. -- Zertr\u00fcmmerung des Wracks. -- Fischjagd. -- Schildkr\u00f6ten. --\nKrankheit. -- N\u00e4chtlicher Traum. -- Fieber. -- Reuige Betrachtungen. --\nWiederherstellung durch Tabak. -- Bibelfund. -- Pflanzen und Fr\u00fcchte\nim Innern der Insel. -- Bau eines Landhauses. -- Die Katze und ihre\nJungen. -- Jahrestag der Landung. -- Ernteerfolge.\nSechstes Kapitel.\n  =Robinson als Handwerker und Ackersmann=                            57\nRobinson s\u00e4et Getreide. -- Korbflechterei. -- T\u00f6pferarbeiten. --\nWeitere Entdeckungsreisen auf der Insel. -- Tierreicher K\u00fcstenstrich.\n-- Robinson bringt einen Papagei sowie eine Ziege nach Hause. --\nTr\u00f6stliche Gedanken \u00fcber Sonst und Jetzt. -- Tageseinteilung. --\nVerheerung des Getreidefeldes. -- Exekution an den Kornpl\u00fcnderern. --\nKleine Ernte.\nSiebentes Kapitel.\n  =Robinson als B\u00e4cker und Schiffbauer=                               67\nRobinson macht sich einen M\u00f6rser und ein Sieb. -- Ernte. -- Brotbacken.\n-- Vergebliche Anstrengungen wegen der Schaluppe. -- Robinson baut\nein Boot: vereitelte Hoffnungen. -- R\u00fcckblicke auf das dreij\u00e4hrige\nInselleben. -- Trauriger Zustand der Kleidung. -- Robinson wird\nSchneider.\nAchtes Kapitel.\n  =Robinsons ungl\u00fcckliche Bootfahrt=                                  77\nGef\u00e4hrliche Seereise. -- In die See hinausgetrieben. -- Sehnsuchtsvolle\nBetrachtungen. -- Die beiden Str\u00f6mungen und gl\u00fcckliche Landung. -- Des\nPapageis Ruf. -- Robinsons \u00bbFamilie\u00ab. -- Ziegenfang und Ziegenpark. --\nSchneiderk\u00fcnste. -- Neue Beobachtungen. -- R\u00fcckblicke.\nNeuntes Kapitel.\n  =Robinson entdeckt Spuren von Menschen=                             84\nNeuer Ausflug auf Entdeckungen. -- Menschliche Spuren. -- Robinsons\nBangen. -- Untersuchung der Fu\u00dfspuren. -- Allerlei seltsame Gedanken.\nZehntes Kapitel.\nRobinsons Menagerie. -- Viehzucht und Bierbrauerei. -- Neuer Besuch von\nWilden. -- Das Wrack. -- Ein neuer Freund. -- Reisetr\u00e4ume.\nElftes Kapitel.\nLandung der Wilden. -- Die beiden Schlachtopfer. -- Der Fl\u00fcchtling\nund sein Besch\u00fctzer. -- Reste des Kannibalenschmauses. -- Freitags\nDankbarkeit. -- Seine Ausstattung. -- Erste Sprechstudien. -- Freitag\nals Koch und B\u00e4ckerlehrling. -- Nachrichten \u00fcber die Nachbarl\u00e4nder. --\nDie Kariben und ihre religi\u00f6sen Anschauungen.\nZw\u00f6lftes Kapitel.\nBau eines neuen gr\u00f6\u00dferen Bootes. -- Probefahrten. -- Neuer\nKannibalenbesuch. -- Der Kampf mit den Wilden. -- Der Spanier und\nFreitags Vater. -- Verpflegung der Befreiten. -- Bestattung der\nGefallenen. -- Geschichte des Spaniers. -- Zukunftspl\u00e4ne.\nDreizehntes Kapitel.\nAbreise von Caballos und Freitags Vater. -- Ankunft wei\u00dfer M\u00e4nner. --\nEin englisches Schiff. -- Vergebliche Furcht vor Seer\u00e4ubern. -- Die\nGefangenen. -- Befreiung derselben. -- Bestrafung der Meuterer. --\nDie Meuterer werden in die Irre gef\u00fchrt, \u00fcberfallen und gefangen. --\nWiedergewinnung des Schiffes. -- Der englische Gouverneur.\nVierzehntes Kapitel.\n  =Robinsons Abreise von seiner Insel=                               169\nRobinson als Gouverneur und Richter. -- Abschied von der Insel und\nderen Bev\u00f6lkerung. -- Ankunft in England. -- Alles fremd in der Heimat.\n-- Reise nach Lissabon. -- Stand der brasilischen Besitzungen. -- Der\nbrave Portugiese. -- G\u00fcnstige Verm\u00f6genslage. -- Landreise durch Spanien\nund Frankreich. -- W\u00f6lfe in den Pyren\u00e4en. -- Freitag und der B\u00e4r. --\nStillleben in London.\nF\u00fcnfzehntes Kapitel.\n  =Aufenthalt in England und neue Reise=                             185\nNeue Reiselust. -- Abfahrt. -- Das Totenschiff. -- Im Antillenmeer. --\nDer B\u00fcffelj\u00e4ger. -- Ankunft in der Kolonie.\nSechzehntes Kapitel.\nAnkunft auf der Insel. -- Freitag und sein Vater. -- Bericht \u00fcber\ndie Wirren w\u00e4hrend der Anwesenheit des Gr\u00fcnders. -- Neue Ordnung. --\nWeitere Reisepl\u00e4ne.\nSiebzehntes Kapitel.\n  =Fortgang und Schlu\u00df von Robinsons Weltfahrt=                      207\nAbschied von der Kolonie. -- K\u00e4mpfe zur See. -- Freitags Tod. --\nBrasilien. -- Sturm am Kaplande. -- Verschlagen ins Eismeer. -- Das\n\u00bbVenedig des Eismeeres\u00ab. -- Gefangen im Eise. -- Durchbruch. --\nDer verlassene Matrose. -- Ein \u00bbRobinson\u00ab auf einer schwimmenden\nEisscholle. -- Irrfahrten. -- Das Gespensterschiff. -- Zusammensto\u00df mit\nden Kochinchinesen. -- In China und Sibirien. -- R\u00fcckkehr nach England.\n-- Endliche Ruhe.\nBuntbilder:\n  Robinson  und  seine  Familie                                Titelbild\n[Illustration]\nErstes Kapitel.\nRobinsons Jugend und erste Fahrten, von ihm selbst erz\u00e4hlt.\n  Robinsons Herkunft. -- Hang zum Seeleben. -- Unterredung mit\n  seinem Vater. -- Besuch in Hull. -- Er geht zur See. -- Sturm. --\n  Des Schiffes Untergang auf der Reede zu Yarmouth. -- Robinsons\n  Unschl\u00fcssigkeit. -- Reise nach London.\nIm Jahre 1632 erblickte ich in der Stadt York das Licht der Welt. Mein\nVater, aus der Familie Creutznaer in Bremen stammend, hatte sich als\nKaufmann in Hull, in England, niedergelassen. Hier war ihm das Gl\u00fcck\nhold, so da\u00df es ihm gelang, sich ein ansehnliches Verm\u00f6gen zu erwerben.\nDarauf zog er sich von den Gesch\u00e4ften zur\u00fcck und siedelte nach York\n\u00fcber, um seine ferneren Lebensjahre in Ruhe zu verbringen. Dort f\u00fchrte\ner meine Mutter heim; sie z\u00e4hlte zu einer alten und angesehenen\nFamilie, Namens Robinson. So kam es, da\u00df ich den Doppelnamen *Robinson\nCreutznaer* empfing; letzterer Name wurde indes durch die Leute\ngew\u00f6hnlich in *Crusoe* umgewandelt, wie man es in England oft findet.\nWir behielten auch in der Folge diesen Namen bei.\nIch hatte zwei \u00e4ltere Br\u00fcder; der eine diente als Oberstleutnant in\neinem englischen Infanterieregiment in Flandern und fand seinen Tod,\nals die Engl\u00e4nder unter Cromwell D\u00fcnkirchen den Spaniern abgewannen.\nWas aus meinem zweiten Bruder geworden ist, habe ich niemals erfahren,\nebensowenig als meine Eltern je dar\u00fcber Aufschlu\u00df erhielten, wie es mir\nselbst sp\u00e4ter ergangen ist.\nIch war also der dritte Sohn meiner Eltern und h\u00e4tte eigentlich daran\ndenken sollen, ihnen einmal eine St\u00fctze zu werden. Ohne ernstlich die\nWahl eines Lebensberufs zu erw\u00e4gen, hing ich indessen abenteuerlichen\nGedanken und Pl\u00e4nen nach; ich dachte nur an die Herrlichkeiten fremder\nL\u00e4nder und tr\u00e4umte Tag und Nacht von Palmenw\u00e4ldern, Goldbergen und den\nfabelhaften Sch\u00f6nheiten fremder Zonen. Nichts ging mir \u00fcber das Leben\neines Schiffers, der in seinem leichten Fahrzeuge sich auf dem blauen\nMeere wiegen und alle jene von mir ertr\u00e4umten Wunder mit Augen schauen\nkann.\nZwar lie\u00df es mein Vater an guten Lehren und an Schulunterricht nicht\nfehlen, zumal er w\u00fcnschte, da\u00df ich sp\u00e4terhin ein Rechtsgelehrter werden\nsollte. Allein der Hang zum Seeleben, den weder seine ernstlichen\nWarnungen noch die schmeichelnden Bitten der Mutter verdr\u00e4ngen konnten,\nnahm meine Gedanken unwiderstehlich gefangen und lie\u00df mir alles, was\ndie Heimat bot, gleichg\u00fcltig erscheinen.\nEines Morgens rief mich mein Vater in sein Zimmer, das er infolge der\nGicht h\u00fcten mu\u00dfte, und sprach zu mir in warmen und eindringlichen\nWorten.\n\u00bbMein Sohn\u00ab, begann er ernst und nachdrucksvoll, \u00bbdu bist auf dem Wege,\nmir und deiner Mutter gro\u00dfen Kummer zu bereiten. Mein Sohn, ich meine\nes gut mit dir; la\u00df ab von deinen abenteuerlichen Pl\u00e4nen! Du willst\nden heimischen Herd, das Vaterland verlassen; glaubst du, da\u00df du es\nanderw\u00e4rts besser findest als hier, wo dir bei Flei\u00df und Kenntnissen\neine sorgenfreie Zukunft erbl\u00fchen wird? T\u00e4usche dich nicht! Nur solche,\ndie arm und hoffnungslos sind, oder die ein ungeb\u00e4ndigter Ehrgeiz\ntreibt, m\u00f6gen durch au\u00dfergew\u00f6hnliche und k\u00fchne Unternehmungen Gl\u00fcck\nund Ruhm erjagen. F\u00fcr dich sind alle diese Dinge entweder zu hoch\noder zu niedrig. Gew\u00f6hne dich, den Mittelstand, dem wir angeh\u00f6ren,\nals den gl\u00fccklichsten Stand anzusehen. Ist er nicht der Wunsch aller?\nGar manche K\u00f6nige, in Glanz und Prunk aufgewachsen, h\u00e4tten gern den\ngoldenen Thron mit dem bescheidenen Handwerk vertauscht. Selbst der\nweiseste Herrscher hat einst den Mittelstand als den gl\u00fccklichsten\ngepriesen, indem er Gott bat, ihm weder Reichtum noch Armut zu geben!\nWer hier die Mittelstra\u00dfe geht, den stacheln weder Neid noch gl\u00fchende\nW\u00fcnsche des Ehrgeizes, noch wohnen in ihm Stolz und Mi\u00dfgunst.\u00ab\n[Illustration: Robinson Crusoe wird von seinem Vater ermahnt.]\nSo ermahnte mich mein Vater eindringlich, nicht mich selbst ins\nElend zu st\u00fcrzen. Er gab mir seine v\u00e4terliche Absicht kund, da\u00df er\nalles aufbieten w\u00fcrde, um mich auf der Laufbahn, die er f\u00fcr mich\nbestimmt habe, so freigebig zu unterst\u00fctzen, als es mir in jeder Weise\nf\u00f6rderlich sein w\u00fcrde.\n\u00bbBeherzige meine Worte!\u00ab fuhr er fort. \u00bbDasselbe sagte ich auch deinen\nBr\u00fcdern, aber sie gingen ihren eignen Weg. Was war ihr Los? Fern vom\nHeimatshaus fiel dein \u00e4ltester Bruder auf flandrischer Erde, und wo\ndas Gebein deines zweiten Bruders modert, das wei\u00df Gott allein. Glaube\nmir, deinem Vater, der nur auf das Gl\u00fcck deiner Zukunft bedacht ist;\nfolgst du meinen Ermahnungen nicht, unternimmst du den un\u00fcberlegten\nSchritt, aufs Geratewohl in die weite Welt hinauszust\u00fcrmen, so wirst du\nsicherlich eines Tages, wenn das Ungl\u00fcck bei dir einkehrt und niemand\nder Deinen um dich ist, bitter bereuen, da\u00df du meine Mahnungen nicht\nbeachtet hast.\u00ab\nTief ergriffen hielt er nach diesen Worten inne, w\u00e4hrend Thr\u00e4nen der\nWehmut und R\u00fchrung seine Wangen netzten.\nIn jener Stunde nahm ich mir vor, gehorsam dem Willen meines Vaters\nmich zu beugen. Doch schon nach wenigen Tagen erwachte die alte\nSehnsucht aufs neue, und alle guten Vors\u00e4tze waren vergessen. Bei\nmeinem Vater durfte ich nicht hoffen, mit meinen Bitten durchzudringen;\ndeshalb versuchte ich meine Mutter g\u00fcnstig zu stimmen. Ihr stellte\nich vor, da\u00df mein Trieb, die Welt zu sehen, un\u00fcberwindlich sei, da\u00df\nich bereits im achtzehnten Jahre stehe und nun zu alt sei, um die\njuristische oder die kaufm\u00e4nnische Laufbahn zu betreten. Sie m\u00f6ge den\nVater zu der Erlaubnis bewegen, mich wenigstens eine Reise unternehmen\nzu lassen; gefiele mir das Seemannsleben nicht, so wolle ich dann mit\ndoppeltem Eifer das Vers\u00e4umte nachholen.\nVon diesen wiederholten Herzensoffenbarungen war meine besorgte Mutter\ndurchaus nicht erbaut; sie sagte mir rundweg, da\u00df es ganz zwecklos sei,\nmit dem Vater noch einmal \u00fcber diesen leidigen Gegenstand zu sprechen.\nTrotzdem teilte sie gelegentlich die Unterredung dem Vater mit, und\ndieser gab ihr seufzend zur Antwort: \u00bbDer Junge k\u00f6nnte zu Hause ein\nganz gutes Leben haben; geht er aber davon, so wird er der elendeste\nMensch auf Erden. Ich gebe meine Einwilligung nicht!\u00ab\nSo verging abermals ein Jahr, w\u00e4hrenddessen die wiederholten\nErmahnungen meiner Eltern nur tauben Ohren gepredigt wurden. Eines\nTages war ich nach Hull gegangen und traf dort zuf\u00e4llig mit einem alten\nSchulkameraden zusammen, der im Begriff stand, auf einem Schiffe seines\nVaters nach London abzufahren. Er \u00fcberredete mich, ihn zu begleiten,\nindem er mich nach Seemannsart mit den Worten lockte: \u00bbDie Fahrt soll\ndich nichts kosten, mein Junge.\u00ab\nMein Entschlu\u00df war gefa\u00dft. Unbek\u00fcmmert um die Sorgen der Eltern,\nbestieg ich das Schiff; es war am 1. September 1651.\nSelten hat die Strafe f\u00fcr den Leichtsinn so schnell begonnen und so\nlange gedauert wie bei mir. Kaum waren wir aus dem Hafen ausgelaufen,\nals es zu st\u00fcrmen begann und die See hohl ging. Ich hatte noch nie\neine Seereise mitgemacht, und so ergriff mich denn die unerbittliche\nSeekrankheit. Jetzt \u00fcberfiel mich auch schon die Reue \u00fcber meine\nunbesonnene Handlungsweise; meine Gedanken kehrten ins Elternhaus\nzur\u00fcck, wo gewi\u00df Vater und Mutter unter Thr\u00e4nen vergeblich meiner\nWiederkehr harrten.\nDer Sturm brauste immer heftiger, das Schiff sank bald in den Abgrund,\nbald wurde es hoch emporgeschleudert -- mich \u00fcberkam namenlose Angst.\nIn diesen qualenvollen Augenblicken gelobte ich, sofort wieder in\ndas elterliche Haus zur\u00fcckzukehren, wenn es nur Gott gefallen w\u00fcrde,\nmich aus der Gefahr zu erl\u00f6sen. Als sich aber am n\u00e4chsten Tage Sturm\nund Wellen gelegt hatten, waren auch alle meine guten Vors\u00e4tze\ndahin. Gegen Abend kl\u00e4rte sich das Wetter auf; die Sonne ging rein\nund gl\u00e4nzend unter, um am n\u00e4chsten Morgen in gleicher Herrlichkeit\nwieder aufzugehen. Ihr heller Schein spiegelte sich auf der weiten\nMeeresfl\u00e4che wider; ich konnte mich an diesem ungewohnten, prachtvollen\nSchauspiel nicht satt sehen.\nW\u00e4hrend der Nacht hatte ich gut geschlafen und mich auch von meiner\nSeekrankheit wieder erholt. Mein Blick schweifte \u00fcber den glatten\nSpiegel des Meeres, dessen Wellen gestern noch so unheilvolles\nVerderben drohten. Eben stand ich in tiefes Sinnen versunken, da trat\nmein Freund, der mich zu dieser Seereise beredet hatte, an mich heran\nund sagte lachend:\n\u00bbNun, Robin, wie ist dir die Bewegung von gestern bekommen? Du hast\ndich doch wegen des kleinen Windsto\u00dfes nicht ge\u00e4ngstiget?\u00ab\n\u00bbWas? Windsto\u00df? Ich habe in meinem Leben noch keinen solchen Sturm\nausgestanden.\u00ab\n\u00bbDas nennst du einen Sturm? Nichts war es. Hat man nur ein gutes Schiff\nund ist auf offener See, dann macht uns eine M\u00fctze voll Wind mehr oder\nweniger nicht bange. Aber davon verstehst du noch nichts; du bist nur\nein S\u00fc\u00dfwassermensch, mein Junge. Komm, wir wollen eine Bowle Punsch\nmachen und alles vergessen. Sieh, was f\u00fcr pr\u00e4chtiges Wetter wir haben!\u00ab\nDer Punsch wurde gebraut und ich mu\u00dfte t\u00fcchtig trinken, als sei ich\nschon seit Jahren Matrose. Da ging im Rausche alle Reue \u00fcber meinen\nUngehorsam unter; ich verga\u00df alle guten Vors\u00e4tze. Zwar kamen noch\nAugenblicke, in denen meine Vernunft widersprach, doch sah ich bald\nin solcher Regung nur eine Schw\u00e4che und bem\u00fchte mich, meine Grillen,\nwie ich es nannte, dadurch zu vertreiben, da\u00df ich lustige Gesellschaft\naufsuchte und flei\u00dfig den Kameraden zutrank. Nach wenigen Tagen hatte\nich mein Gewissen beschwichtigt und die Erinnerung an alle v\u00e4terlichen\nLehren \u00fcbert\u00e4ubt.\nAm sechsten Tage unsrer Fahrt gelangte unser Schiff auf die Reede von\nYarmouth; widrige Winde und Windstille hatten uns seit jenem Sturme\nnicht erlaubt, eine gr\u00f6\u00dfere Strecke zur\u00fcckzulegen, und wir sahen uns\ngen\u00f6tigt, vor Anker zu gehen. Der Wind, anfangs minder stark, wuchs\naber bald bis zum Orkan; alle H\u00e4nde mu\u00dften zugreifen, um die Stengen\nund Raaen zu streichen. Die Wellen schlugen \u00fcber unser Schiff, und ein\npaarmal glaubten wir, unser Ankertau sei zerrissen. Auf Anordnung des\nOberbootsmannes wurde nun der Taganker ausgeworfen, so da\u00df wir sicherer\nvor zwei Ankern liegen konnten.\nDer Sturm raste fort; Angst und Entsetzen lagerten sich auf den\nGesichtern der Matrosen. Der Kapit\u00e4n lie\u00df alle Vorsichtsma\u00dfregeln\nanwenden, sein Schiff zu erhalten; doch schien er schon selbst die\nHoffnung aufzugeben, denn als er an meiner Schlafstelle vor\u00fcberkam,\nh\u00f6rte ich ihn in die Worte ausbrechen: \u00bbDer Herr sei uns gn\u00e4dig!\nWir sind alle verloren!\u00ab -- Da bem\u00e4chtigte sich meiner eine solche\nTodesangst, da\u00df ich f\u00fcr den ersten Augenblick wie gel\u00e4hmt in der\nKaj\u00fctte liegen blieb. Ich vermag es nicht zu schildern, was ich\nf\u00fchlte! Dann aber sprang ich aus der Kaj\u00fctte auf das Verdeck und\nschaute umher. Welch entsetzliches Schauspiel bot sich meinen Blicken!\nDie Wellen gingen bergehoch und brachen sich an unsern Schiffsw\u00e4nden\nnach je drei oder vier Minuten; wohin ich auch sehen mochte, erblickte\nich nichts als Angst und Not. Zwei schwerbeladene Fahrzeuge, die sich\nin unsrer N\u00e4he befanden, hatten ihre Masten am Fu\u00dfe gekappt -- -- eine\nhalbe Stunde von uns entfernt sahen wir ein Schiff untergehen. Zwei\nandre, von ihren Ankern losgerissen, wurden in die See hinausgeworfen.\nDie leichteren Fahrzeuge hatten weniger zu leiden; dennoch trieben zwei\noder drei, nur mit dem gro\u00dfen Blindsegel versehen, bei uns vor dem\nWinde vorbei.\nGegen Abend baten der Hochbootsmann und der Steuermann den Kapit\u00e4n\num seine Einwilligung, den Vordermast zu kappen. Er mu\u00dfte es schon\nzugeben, da der Hochbootsmann versicherte, das Schiff sei sonst\nunrettbar verloren. Als nun der Vordermast gefallen war, stand der\ngro\u00dfe Mast ohne St\u00fctze und ersch\u00fctterte das Schiff so sehr, da\u00df man\nsich gen\u00f6tigt sah, auch diesen umzuhauen.\nDer Zustand, in welchem ich mich damals bei meiner Unerfahrenheit\nmit den Gefahren des Seelebens befand, ist unbeschreiblich. Deutlich\nerinnere ich mich, da\u00df mich w\u00e4hrend dieser qualvollen Stunden mehr die\nReue marterte, von meinen guten Vors\u00e4tzen abgegangen zu sein, als mich\ndie Furcht vor dem Tode schreckte. Der Gedanke, da\u00df dieses Ungl\u00fcck\neine Strafe Gottes f\u00fcr meinen Ungehorsam sei, st\u00fcrzte mich in tiefe\nBetr\u00fcbnis. Aber das Ma\u00df unsrer Leiden war noch nicht voll.\nDer Sturm tobte mit solcher Wut, da\u00df selbst die Matrosen gestanden,\nnie einen \u00e4hnlichen erlebt zu haben. Obschon unser Fahrzeug t\u00fcchtig\nwar, schwankte es doch heftig hin und her, so da\u00df die Matrosen jeden\nAugenblick ausriefen: \u00bbWir kentern!\u00ab d. h. wir schlagen um. Ja, was\nbei Seeleuten nur selten vorkommt, der Kapit\u00e4n, der Hochbootsmann und\nmehrere andre sanken betend auf die Kniee und starrten hoffnungslos dem\nUntergange entgegen.\nUm Mitternacht rief pl\u00f6tzlich einer der Matrosen: \u00bbEin Leck im Schiff!\u00ab\nEin andrer schrie: \u00bbDas Wasser steht schon vier Fu\u00df hoch im Raum!\u00ab\nAlles mu\u00dfte jetzt an die Pumpen. Ich war wie gel\u00e4hmt und sank auf mein\nLager zur\u00fcck. Die Matrosen weckten mich unsanft aus meiner Erstarrung\nauf und meinten, wenn ich auch vorher zu nichts genutzt h\u00e4tte, so\nk\u00f6nnte ich doch jetzt an den Pumpen mit helfen gleich den andern.\nMechanisch folgte ich dieser Aufforderung; ich erhob mich und arbeitete\nt\u00fcchtig. W\u00e4hrend dieser Zeit erblickte der Kapit\u00e4n einige leichte\nFahrzeuge, die, weil sie wegen des Sturmes vor Anker nicht aushalten\nkonnten, das Tau hatten schl\u00fcpfen lassen; sie sahen sich gezwungen,\ndas offene Meer zu gewinnen, und wendeten alle Mittel an, um einen\nZusammensto\u00df mit uns zu vermeiden. Der Kapit\u00e4n lie\u00df durch einen\nKanonenschu\u00df ein Notsignal geben. Da ich nicht wu\u00dfte, was das zu\nbedeuten habe, und glaubte, das Schiff ginge krachend in Tr\u00fcmmer, fiel\nich vor Schrecken besinnungslos nieder. Niemand achtete jetzt meines\nZustandes.\nJeder war nur f\u00fcr sein eignes Leben besorgt; ja ein Matrose, der mich\nf\u00fcr tot hielt, schob mich mit dem Fu\u00dfe seitw\u00e4rts und trat an meine\nStelle. Es dauerte geraume Zeit, ehe ich wieder zu mir selbst kam.\nTrotz der angestrengtesten Arbeit stieg das Wasser im Schiffe immer\nh\u00f6her. Es war gewi\u00df, da\u00df wir sanken. Obgleich der Sturm ein wenig\nnachgelassen hatte, konnten wir doch kaum hoffen, einen rettenden Hafen\nzu erreichen. Fort und fort erdr\u00f6hnten die Notsch\u00fcsse; ein leichtes\nFahrzeug in einiger Entfernung wagte es, uns ein Boot zu Hilfe zu\nsenden. Nur durch einen gl\u00fccklichen Zufall kam das Boot in unsre N\u00e4he;\naber es war uns lange nicht m\u00f6glich, an Bord zu kommen, da es nicht\nanlegen konnte. Die Leute im Boote ruderten unter Lebensgefahr mit\nallen Kr\u00e4ften. Als sie endlich nahe genug gekommen waren, konnten wir\nihnen ein Tau zuwerfen.\nSie fingen es auf und legten an Bord. Im Nu waren wir alle im Boote;\ndoch mu\u00dften wir es aufgeben, jenes Schiff zu erreichen, das uns so\nmenschenfreundliche Hilfe gesendet hatte. Daher beschlo\u00df man, das Boot\ntreiben zu lassen, indem man vorsichtig nach der K\u00fcste zu steuerte. Der\nKapit\u00e4n versprach, es zu ersetzen, wenn es durch Stranden zertr\u00fcmmert\nwerden sollte. So, teils rudernd, teils mit dem Winde treibend,\nsteuerten wir dem Lande zu, gegen das Vorgebirge von Winterton-Ne\u00df.\nWir hatten das Schiff kaum eine Viertelstunde verlassen, als wir es\n*sinken* sahen. Meine Augen umflorten sich, als die Matrosen auf das\nuntergehende Schiff hinzeigten. Schon von dem Augenblicke an, wo ich in\ndas Rettungsboot mehr geworfen worden als gestiegen war, legten sich\nauch Furcht und Gewissensangst wie Blei auf mein Herz.\n[Illustration: Des Schiffes Untergang.]\nDie Schiffsleute ruderten rastlos, um das Land zu erreichen. Sobald\nunser Boot sich hoch aus den Wellen emporhob, bemerkten wir eine\nMenge Menschen l\u00e4ngs der K\u00fcste, die alle bereit waren, uns Hilfe zu\nleisten, wenn wir nahe genug gekommen sein w\u00fcrden. Allein unsre Fahrt\nging nur sehr langsam von statten. Erst nachdem wir den Leuchtturm von\nWinterton umschifft hatten, wo das Ufer sich westw\u00e4rts gegen Cromer\numbiegt und die Wogen deshalb nicht mehr so heftig sind, gelangten\nwir mit uns\u00e4glicher Anstrengung gl\u00fccklich ans Land. Wir gingen dann\nnach Yarmouth, wo wir Schiffbr\u00fcchigen mit aller Menschenfreundlichkeit\nbehandelt wurden. Die Obrigkeit wies uns gute Quartiere an, und die\nKaufleute und Reeder der Stadt steuerten eine Summe Geldes zusammen,\ndie jeden von uns in den Stand setzte, entweder nach London zu gehen\noder sich nach Hull zur\u00fcckzubegeben.\nH\u00e4tte ich meinen Menschenverstand zusammengenommen und w\u00e4re nach Hull\nzur\u00fcckgekehrt -- alle Not w\u00fcrde zu Ende gewesen sein. Mein Vater h\u00e4tte,\num mich der Worte der Heiligen Schrift zu bedienen, in der Freude\nseines Herzens ein gem\u00e4stetes Kalb geschlachtet.\nWie mir sp\u00e4ter mitgeteilt ward, hatte er erfahren, da\u00df das Schiff, auf\nwelchem ich mich befand, auf der Reede von Yarmouth untergegangen sei,\nund erst lange danach wurde ihm Gewi\u00dfheit dar\u00fcber, da\u00df ich aus dem\nSchiffbruch gerettet worden. Aber es schien, als h\u00e4tte ein schlimmer\nGeist meinen Sinn verblendet. Zwar regte sich manchmal die Vernunft\nin mir und mahnte mich, die Schritte wieder zum v\u00e4terlichen Hause zu\nlenken; dennoch hielt mich ein Etwas ab, dieser inneren Stimme zu\ngehorchen. Zu der Lust an Abenteuern und am Wandern, die mich zu dem\nersten Schritte des Ungehorsams gegen meine Eltern verleitet hatte,\ngesellte sich jetzt die Scham; umkehren wollte ich nicht mehr, und so\ntrieb mich das Schicksal weiterem Ungl\u00fcck entgegen.\nMein Kamerad, des Schiffsherrn Sohn, der mir vorher Anleitung gegeben,\nmein Gewissen zu beruhigen, war jetzt mutloser als ich. Erst einige\nTage nach unsrer Ankunft in Yarmouth kam ich wieder mit ihm zusammen,\nda unsre Quartiere weit auseinander lagen. Jetzt schlug er einen andern\nTon an als vorher; mit tr\u00fcber Miene fragte er mich, wie es mir gehe.\nAls sein Vater dazu kam, teilte er diesem mit, wer ich sei, da\u00df diese\nReise nur ein Versuch f\u00fcr mich gewesen sei, und da\u00df ich weiterreisen\nwolle. In dem Kapit\u00e4n mochten die Erinnerungen an durchlebte\ngefahrvolle Tage des Seelebens emporsteigen, er wurde ernst, fast\nstreng und sagte zu mir: \u00bbJunger Mann, Ihr d\u00fcrft nicht wieder aufs Meer\ngehen; die kaum \u00fcberstandenen Ereignisse m\u00fcssen Euch die \u00dcberzeugung\naufdringen, da\u00df Ihr nicht zum Seemann geboren seid.\u00ab\n\u00bbWie, mein Herr\u00ab, erwiderte ich verwundert, \u00bbwollen Sie denn auch nicht\nmehr zur See gehen?\u00ab\n\u00bbBei mir ist das etwas andres; das ist mein Beruf, meine Pflicht, Ihr\naber habt mit dieser Reise nur einen Versuch machen wollen, und ich\nd\u00e4chte, Ihr h\u00e4ttet einen hinl\u00e4nglichen Vorgeschmack dessen bekommen,\nwas Euch bevorsteht. Doch sagt mir, wie kommt es eigentlich, da\u00df Ihr\nzur See gehen wollt?\u00ab\n[Illustration: Die Schiffbr\u00fcchigen auf dem Boote.]\nIch erz\u00e4hlte dem Kapit\u00e4n den Verlauf meines bisherigen Lebens. Als ich\ngeendigt hatte, fuhr er in unmutigem Tone und tief erregt auf: \u00bbWomit\nhabe ich verdient, da\u00df solch ein Unbesonnener zu mir an Bord kommen\nmu\u00dfte? Um keinen Preis m\u00f6chte ich je wieder mit Euch meinen Fu\u00df auf\ndasselbe Schiff setzen!\u00ab\nDas Ungl\u00fcck, welches ihn betroffen, hatte den Kapit\u00e4n ganz\nau\u00dferordentlich heftig gestimmt. Indessen sprach er sp\u00e4ter liebevoller\nmit mir und stellte ganz eindringlich mir vor, wie th\u00f6richt das\nBeginnen sei, die Vorsehung tollk\u00fchn versuchen zu wollen; ich th\u00e4te\nsicher besser, zu meinem Vater zur\u00fcckzukehren.\n\u00bbSeid \u00fcberzeugt, junger Mann\u00ab, schlo\u00df er seine wohlgemeinten\nErmahnungen, \u00bbda\u00df, wenn Ihr nicht zur\u00fcckkehrt, Eurer \u00fcberall nichts als\nT\u00e4uschungen und Elend harren, und da\u00df die ernsten Worte Eures Vaters in\nErf\u00fcllung gehen werden.\u00ab\nIch erwiderte nichts, sondern verabschiedete mich von dem wohlmeinenden\nManne. -- Ich habe ihn leider nicht wiedergesehen.\nDa ich etwas Geld besa\u00df, begab ich mich zu Lande nach London,\nunentschlossen, was ich eigentlich thun sollte. Nach Hause zu gehen\nverbot mir, wie gesagt, die Scham; auch f\u00fcrchtete ich das h\u00f6hnische\nGerede der Nachbarn. Wie th\u00f6richt ist doch die Jugend! Sie sch\u00e4mt sich\noft mehr der Reue als der S\u00fcnde und stemmt sich mit Gewalt gegen die\nWeisungen des Verstandes. Sowie die Erinnerung an die ausgestandenen\nGefahren schwand, trat auch der Gedanke an die Heimkehr in den\nHintergrund; zuletzt gab ich ihn ganz auf und entschlo\u00df mich kurz, an\nBord eines \u00fcberseeischen Schiffes zu gehen.\nMein gr\u00f6\u00dftes Ungl\u00fcck auf allen meinen Reisen war die Hartn\u00e4ckigkeit,\nmit der ich mich weigerte, als Matrose zu dienen. Zwar h\u00e4tte ich dann\ngleich den andern t\u00fcchtig die H\u00e4nde r\u00fchren m\u00fcssen, aber ich h\u00e4tte auch\nAussicht gehabt, im Laufe der Zeit zum Steuermann, Hochbootsmann,\nLeutnant, ja vielleicht gar zum Kapit\u00e4n emporzusteigen. Allein ich\nhatte ein besonderes Geschick, \u00fcberall das Ung\u00fcnstige zu w\u00e4hlen, und\nda mein Geld noch ausreichte und meine Kleider sich in leidlich guter\nBeschaffenheit befanden, so begab ich mich als Passagier an Bord, wobei\nich freilich nichts zu thun hatte, aber auch nichts lernen konnte.\nIch kam also nach London. Dort hatte ich das Gl\u00fcck, in gute\nGesellschaft zu geraten, was bei einem lockeren, leichtsinnigen\nBurschen, wie ich war, sicherlich selten genug ist. Meine erste\nBekanntschaft war der Kapit\u00e4n eines Schiffes, welches von der K\u00fcste von\nGuinea zur\u00fcckgekehrt und im Begriff stand, wieder dorthin abzusegeln.\nDieser treffliche Mann fand Wohlgefallen an mir und schlug mir vor,\nauf seinem Schiffe die Reise nach Guinea zu unternehmen. Er meinte, es\nsolle mich nichts kosten, und wenn ich einige Waren einkaufen wollte,\num sie in Afrika mit Vorteil loszuschlagen, so w\u00fcrde ich dadurch\nvielleicht einen erklecklichen Gewinn machen.\nWer war froher als ich? Ich nahm des Kapit\u00e4ns Anerbieten ohne Bedenken\nan. Auf seinen Rat hatte ich f\u00fcr etwa 40 Pfund Sterling (800 Mark)\nGlaswaren und andre kleine Gegenst\u00e4nde eingekauft. Diese Geldmittel\nhatte ich durch Hilfe einiger Verwandten aufgebracht, mit denen ich\nin Briefwechsel geblieben, und letztere hatten auch meinen Eltern mein\nSchicksal und mein Vorhaben mitgeteilt, ja dieselben wohl vermocht,\netwas zu meinem ersten Unternehmen beizusteuern.\nDies war die einzige Reise, von der ich sagen kann, da\u00df sie gl\u00fccklich\nablief. Allerdings hatte mich das Mi\u00dfgeschick nicht g\u00e4nzlich unber\u00fchrt\ngelassen; infolge der allzugro\u00dfen Hitze in den Tropen verfiel ich\nin ein heftiges Fieber, so da\u00df ich l\u00e4ngere Zeit in Afrika krank\ndaniederlag; aber die Reise war doch nicht erfolglos f\u00fcr mich gewesen.\nDies hatte ich lediglich der Rechtschaffenheit meines Freundes, des\nKapit\u00e4ns, zu danken, unter dessen Anleitung ich nicht unbedeutende\nKenntnisse in der Mathematik und der Seemannskunde erlangte. Ich lernte\nein Schiffstagebuch f\u00fchren, nautische Beobachtungen anstellen, kurz\nDinge, die ein Seemann wissen mu\u00df. Er fand ein gleiches Vergn\u00fcgen\ndaran, mich zu unterrichten, wie ich, von ihm zu lernen, und so\nbildete mich die Reise zum Kaufmann und Seemann. Mein Tauschhandel\nging gut; ich brachte \u00fcber f\u00fcnf Pfund Goldstaub zur\u00fcck, gegen die ich\nin London 300 Guineen (6000 Mark) erhielt. Dieser Erfolg erf\u00fcllte mich\nmit hochfliegenden Gedanken; aber Hochmut kommt stets vor dem Falle,\nund dieser Hochmut war die Ursache, da\u00df ich eine dornenvolle Bahn\ndurchwandern mu\u00dfte!\n[Illustration: Da ergriff ich die zweite Flinte und traf den L\u00f6wen so\nsicher durch den Kopf ... (Zu S. 19.)]\nZweites Kapitel.\nRobinsons Gefangenschaft und Flucht.\n  Gefangenschaft in Saleh. -- Flucht mit Xury.\nSo war ich also ein Guineakaufmann geworden. Zu meinem gr\u00f6\u00dften\nLeidwesen starb mein Freund bald nach unsrer R\u00fcckkehr, und ich\nentschlo\u00df mich, auf eigne Faust dieselbe Reise noch einmal zu\nunternehmen, und zwar auf demselben Fahrzeuge, welches jetzt der\nfr\u00fchere Oberbootsmann f\u00fchrte. Es ward eine der ungl\u00fccklichsten Fahrten.\nIch nahm f\u00fcr 100 Pfund Sterling (\u00fcber 2000 Mark) Waren auf die Reise\nmit und lie\u00df 200 Pfund in den H\u00e4nden der Witwe meines Freundes zur\u00fcck,\ndie denn auch das \u00dcbergebene treulich bewahrte und mein Vertrauen in\nihre Redlichkeit nicht get\u00e4uscht hat.\nReich an Hoffnungen steuerten wir zwischen den Kanarischen Inseln und\nder afrikanischen K\u00fcste hin. Da wurden wir pl\u00f6tzlich eines Morgens,\nnoch in der D\u00e4mmerung, von einem maurischen Seer\u00e4uber \u00fcberrascht, der\nbald, alle Segel aufhissend, auf uns Jagd machte.\nGegen 3 Uhr nachmittags kam er uns nahe und warf auf unser Deck 60\nMann, die sofort unser Tau- und Takelwerk zusammenhieben. Es kam zum\nKampfe. Nachdem aber von unsern Leuten drei get\u00f6tet und acht verwundet\nwaren, mu\u00dften wir andern uns der feindlichen \u00dcbermacht ergeben. Wir\nwurden nach Saleh gebracht, einem unbedeutenden Hafen an der K\u00fcste der\nBarbareskenstaaten. Man f\u00fchrte mich jedoch nicht, wie meine \u00fcbrigen\nSchicksalsgenossen, in das Innere des Landes, nach der Residenz des\nKaisers, sondern der Kapit\u00e4n behielt mich bei sich selbst zur\u00fcck, weil\nich ihm dienstbar sein sollte. So waren denn alle hochfliegenden Pl\u00e4ne\ndes jungen \u00bbGuineakaufmanns\u00ab mit einem Schlage vernichtet. Ich war\njetzt nichts als ein ungl\u00fccklicher Sklave, und meines Vaters mahnende\nStimme trat oft vor meine Seele; niemand war da, der mir rettenden\nBeistand geleistet h\u00e4tte.\nIndessen stieg die Hoffnung in mir auf, da\u00df mich mein neuer Herr an\nseinen Seeunternehmungen werde teilnehmen lassen. Ich malte mir schon\nim Geiste meine Errettung durch ein spanisches oder portugiesisches\nKriegsschiff aus. Eine derartige Gelegenheit sollte indes noch lange\nauf sich warten lassen. Inzwischen mu\u00dfte ich meinen Herrn h\u00e4ufig auf\nseinen Spazierfahrten begleiten, die er in einem kleinen Fahrzeuge auf\ndem Meere unternahm, um nahe der K\u00fcste zu fischen. Einst hatte er zu\neiner gleichen Fahrt als G\u00e4ste mehrere vornehme Mauren eingeladen und\ntraf hierzu au\u00dferordentliche Vorbereitungen.\nSchon am Tage vorher mu\u00dfte ich in die Schaluppe mehr Lebensmittel\nals gew\u00f6hnlich bringen, ebenso drei Flinten mit Pulver, Kugeln und\nSchrot f\u00fcr die Jagd auf Seev\u00f6gel. Als ich am n\u00e4chsten Morgen mit dem\nblankgeputzten Boote auf das Erscheinen meines Herrn wartete, kam\nletzterer allein und erkl\u00e4rte, da\u00df seine G\u00e4ste wegen unerwarteter\nGesch\u00e4fte behindert seien; ich m\u00f6chte nur mit dem Maurenknaben auf den\nFischfang fahren, da seine G\u00e4ste des Abends bei ihm speisen w\u00fcrden.\nDann ging mein Herr und lie\u00df mich mit dem Boote und dem Knaben allein.\nWelche g\u00fcnstige Gelegenheit zur endlichen Ausf\u00fchrung meiner\nFluchtpl\u00e4ne! Wir fuhren hinaus, und ich fischte anscheinend eine\nZeitlang, sprach dann aber zum Knaben: \u00bbWir fangen heute nichts, wir\nm\u00fcssen weiter hinausfahren.\u00ab Als wir fern genug von der K\u00fcste uns\nbefanden, sagte ich pl\u00f6tzlich zu dem Knaben: \u00bbXury, wenn du mir treu\nsein willst, so werde ich dich zu einem gro\u00dfen Manne machen; schlage\ndich ins Gesicht und schw\u00f6re mir bei Mohammed und dem Barte deines\nVaters Treue, sonst werfe ich dich in die See.\u00ab Der Knabe l\u00e4chelte mich\nin voller Unschuld an und versprach, mit mir zu gehen bis an das Ende\nder Welt.\nBei dem frischen Winde ging unsre stille Wasserfahrt so schnell vor\nsich, da\u00df wir am n\u00e4chsten Tage, nachmittags 3 Uhr, als wir uns dem\nLande n\u00e4herten, l\u00e4ngst \u00fcber das Gebiet des Kaisers von Marokko hinaus\nsein mu\u00dften, denn wir sahen keine Spur von Menschen an der K\u00fcste.\nDie Furcht, wieder in die H\u00e4nde der Mauren zu fallen, hielt mich indes\nab, an das Land zu steigen oder die Anker auszuwerfen. Vielmehr segelte\nich f\u00fcnf Tage lang ununterbrochen fort und warf erst dann, als ich mich\nau\u00dfer aller Verfolgung glauben durfte, den Anker nicht weit von der\nM\u00fcndung eines kleinen Flusses, ohne zu wissen, wo ich mich eigentlich\nbefand. Es kam mir niemand zu Gesicht, und ich wollte auch niemand\nsehen; alles, was ich bedurfte, war frisches Wasser. Wir liefen am\nAbend in die Bucht ein und beschlossen, mit einbrechender Nacht zu\nlanden, um die K\u00fcstengegend zu untersuchen.\nVon meiner ersten Reise her wu\u00dfte ich, da\u00df die Kanarischen Inseln und\ndie Inseln des Gr\u00fcnen Vorgebirges nicht weit entfernt sein konnten. Da\nich aber die Lage nicht genau kannte, so hatte ich nur die Hoffnung,\nvielleicht einem englischen Schiffe zu begegnen, das uns aufnehmen\nk\u00f6nnte. Nach meinem Vermuten lag das Land, welches ich gesehen hatte,\nzwischen dem Kaisertum Marokko und Nigritien, dessen weite Ein\u00f6den nur\nvon wilden Tieren bewohnt sein sollten. Die Neger hatten sich von hier\naus s\u00fcdw\u00e4rts gezogen, aus Furcht vor den Mauren; letztere aber betraten\ndiese unfruchtbaren Landstriche nur, um in Haufen von Tausenden gro\u00dfe\nJagden abzuhalten. L\u00f6wen und Leoparden, Schakale und Hy\u00e4nen fanden\nwir auf der ganzen Strecke, die wir an der K\u00fcste hinfuhren, \u00e4u\u00dferst\nzahlreich, und w\u00e4hrend der Nacht musizierten diese wilden Bestien in\nallen Tonarten.\nEines Morgens legten wir, um frisches Wasser einzunehmen, an einer\nkleinen, ziemlich hohen Landzunge an; die Flut stieg h\u00f6her und h\u00f6her,\nund wir wollten sie eben benutzen, um weiter vorw\u00e4rts zu treiben, als\nXury, der ein sch\u00e4rferes Auge hatte als ich, mir zufl\u00fcsterte: \u00bbHerr,\nwir m\u00fcssen fort, dort an dem Felsen ist ein f\u00fcrchterliches Tier.\u00ab\nIch blickte hin und erkannte in der That einen gro\u00dfen L\u00f6wen, welcher\nsorglos schlief.\nNachdem ich meinem Knaben bedeutet hatte, still zu sein, lud ich unser\ngr\u00f6\u00dftes Gewehr mit zwei Kugeln und legte es neben mich, hierauf machte\nich auch meine zweite Flinte schu\u00dffertig und lud die dritte mit f\u00fcnf\nPosten. Wohl zielte ich beim ersten Schu\u00df genau nach dem Kopfe des\nL\u00f6wen; aber da er die Tatzen \u00fcber die Schnauze hielt, so traf der Schu\u00df\neine derselben \u00fcber dem Gelenke und zerschmetterte sie. Er fuhr auf,\nsank aber wieder nieder und erhob sich von neuem auf drei Pfoten, indem\ner ein entsetzliches Gebr\u00fcll ausstie\u00df. Da ergriff ich die zweite Flinte\nund traf ihn so sicher durch den Kopf, da\u00df er sich in Todeszuckungen\nw\u00e4lzte. Jetzt fa\u00dfte Xury sich ein Herz und wollte ans Ufer gehen; er\nsprang ins Wasser und schwamm, w\u00e4hrend er mit der einen Hand die Flinte\n\u00fcber seinem Kopfe hielt, mittels der andern an das Ufer. Als er in der\nn\u00e4chsten N\u00e4he des Tieres war, setzte er ihm das Gewehr an das Ohr und\nt\u00f6tete es vollends.\nDa fiel mir ein, da\u00df uns vielleicht das Fell des L\u00f6wen von Nutzen\nsein k\u00f6nnte. Wir machten uns sofort an die Arbeit. Obwohl Xury recht\ngeschickt damit umzugehen wu\u00dfte, plagten wir uns dennoch einen ganzen\nTag lang, ehe wir die Haut vollst\u00e4ndig abgestreift hatten; darauf\nlie\u00dfen wir sie zwei Tage auf dem Dache der Kaj\u00fctte ausgebreitet\ntrocknen, und ich bediente mich dann ihrer zum Lager.\nNach diesem Aufenthalte steuerten wir wieder mehrere Tage s\u00fcdw\u00e4rts.\nSorgsam schonten wir unsern Mundvorrat, der bald zu Ende gehen mu\u00dfte,\nund landeten nur, um frisches Wasser einzunehmen. Meine Absicht ging\ndahin, den Flu\u00df Senegal oder den Gambia zu erreichen, d. h. die H\u00f6he\ndes Gr\u00fcnen Vorgebirges, um vielleicht ein europ\u00e4isches Fahrzeug zu\ntreffen; denn ich wu\u00dfte, da\u00df alle nach der K\u00fcste von Guinea, nach\nBrasilien oder Ostindien bestimmten Schiffe das Gr\u00fcne Vorgebirge\numsegeln mu\u00dften.\nAn einigen Orten kamen nackte schwarze Menschen an den Strand, um\nuns anzustaunen. Einmal wollte ich zu ihnen ans Land gehen, aber der\nkluge Xury riet mir davon ab. Die Wilden waren ohne Waffen, nur ein\neinziger trug einen langen Stab; Xury belehrte mich, es sei eine Lanze,\nwelche diese Neger auf weite Entfernungen mit wunderbarer Sicherheit\nschleudern k\u00f6nnen. Ich hielt mich daher in angemessener Entfernung\nund suchte nur durch Zeichen ihnen zu verstehen zu geben, da\u00df wir\nLebensmittel w\u00fcnschten. Sie winkten mir darauf, mit dem Boote still\nzu halten, ich legte bei und n\u00e4herte mich dem Ufer, w\u00e4hrend zwei der\nM\u00e4nner landeinw\u00e4rts liefen und nach einer halben Stunde zwei St\u00fccke\ngetrocknetes Fleisch nebst etwas Korn zur\u00fcckbrachten. Gern h\u00e4tten\nwir zugegriffen, wir wagten uns jedoch nicht unter die Neger. Allein\ndiese hegten ebenso gro\u00dfe Furcht vor uns; sie legten die Lebensmittel\nam Strande nieder, zogen sich dann zur\u00fcck und warteten, bis wir das\nNiedergelegte geholt hatten, worauf sie sich wieder dem Ufer n\u00e4herten.\nWir dankten ihnen durch Zeichen, da wir ihnen etwas andres nicht zu\nbieten hatten; doch sollte sich bald eine Gelegenheit finden, durch\ndie wir ihnen einen gro\u00dfen Dienst erweisen konnten. Zwei furchtbare\nTiere, von denen das eine das andre verfolgte, rannten von den Bergen\ngegen die See herab. Die Neger liefen in hastigem Laufe davon, nur der\nMann mit der Lanze blieb stehen. Die beiden Bestien dachten indes nicht\ndaran, die Schwarzen anzufallen, sondern st\u00fcrzten in das Wasser, als\nseien sie nur gekommen, um sich an einem frischen Bade zu erquicken.\nIch lud unsre drei Gewehre, und da eines der Tiere nahe genug gekommen\nwar, scho\u00df ich dasselbe gerade durch den Kopf, so da\u00df es untersank.\nBald aber kam es wieder in die H\u00f6he, tauchte bald auf, bald unter\nund schien mit dem Tode zu ringen. Das andre Tier, von dem Blitz und\nKnall des Gewehres abgeschreckt, schwamm an das Ufer und lief nach der\nWildnis zur\u00fcck.\nUnm\u00f6glich l\u00e4\u00dft sich das Staunen der Neger beschreiben, das sie bei\ndem Knalle und dem Feuer meiner Flinte befiel. Als sie aber das Tier\ntot auf dem Wasser schwimmen sahen und ich ihnen winkte, ans Ufer zu\nkommen, fa\u00dften sie wieder Mut. Ich schlang dem Tier einen Strick um\neine Pfote und warf dessen Ende den Negern zu, welche dann den Leichnam\nans Land zogen. Jetzt erst bemerkte ich, da\u00df es ein kr\u00e4ftiger, sch\u00f6n\ngefleckter *Leopard* war. Die Neger gaben mir zu verstehen, da\u00df sie\nnicht \u00fcbel Lust h\u00e4tten, das Fleisch des Leoparden zu essen; und da ich\nihnen durch Zeichen ausdr\u00fcckte, da\u00df ich ihnen diese Beute zum Geschenk\nmachen wolle, schienen sie au\u00dferordentlich dankbar zu sein und gingen\nsogleich daran, dem Tiere die Haut abzuziehen.\nVon dem Fleische, das sie mir anboten, nahm ich nichts an, sondern\nverlangte nur das Fell, das sie mir gern \u00fcberlie\u00dfen. Noch begehrte\nich von ihnen Wasser, indem ich einen Krug mit der Hand umkehrte, um\nanzudeuten, da\u00df er leer sei. Sofort riefen sie einige Weiber herzu, die\ndann ein gro\u00dfes irdenes Gef\u00e4\u00df herbeibrachten. Sie stellten es an das\nUfer, wie fr\u00fcher die Lebensmittel, und ich schickte Xury ab, um unsre\ndrei Kr\u00fcge aus diesem Gef\u00e4\u00dfe mit Wasser zu f\u00fcllen.\nSo war ich denn mit Fleisch, Korn und Trinkwasser versehen, nahm daher\nvon den freundlichen Negern Abschied und segelte wiederum in der\nbisherigen Richtung zehn Tage lang, ohne zu landen, bis ich endlich\nvier oder f\u00fcnf Stunden entfernt das Land weit in das Meer vorspringen\nsah. Die See war still; ich umsegelte diese Landspitze in einer\nEntfernung von ungef\u00e4hr zwei Stunden. Bei dieser Fahrt sah ich ganz\ndeutlich das andere Ufer des Kaps und vermutete -- wie ich erfuhr, mit\nRecht -- da\u00df es das Gr\u00fcne Vorgebirge sei und die Kapverdischen Inseln.\nIch machte keinen Versuch, nach den letzteren zu steuern, da ich\nf\u00fcrchtete, ein widriger Wind k\u00f6nnte mich in den offenen Ozean treiben.\nIn dieser Lage ging ich in die Kaj\u00fctte und hing meinen Gedanken nach.\nPl\u00f6tzlich rief Xury, der am Steuer sa\u00df: \u00bbHerr, ein Schiff mit Segeln!\u00ab\nEr war ganz au\u00dfer sich vor Schrecken, weil er glaubte, unser maurischer\nHerr setzte uns mit einem Fahrzeug nach. Ich sprang aus der Kaj\u00fctte und\nsah sofort, da\u00df das Schiff ein portugiesisches war. Ich segelte und\nruderte, so sehr ich konnte, um es einzuholen; endlich bemerkte man uns\nund zog die Segel ein, um uns herankommen zu lassen.\nMan fragte mich auf portugiesisch, auf spanisch und auf franz\u00f6sisch,\nwer ich sei, allein ich verstand keine dieser Fragen. Zuletzt\nerkundigte sich ein schottischer Matrose, der sich an Bord befand, auf\nenglisch nach meinen Verh\u00e4ltnissen, und diesem sagte ich, da\u00df ich ein\nEngl\u00e4nder und aus der Sklaverei der Mauren in Saleh entflohen sei.\nMan lie\u00df mich nun an Bord kommen und nahm uns beide samt meiner Habe\nfreundlich auf.\nIch empfand \u00fcber meine Rettung unaussprechliche Freude und bot dem\nKapit\u00e4n als Beweis meiner Dankbarkeit mein ganzes Besitztum an. Allein\ner erwiderte mir gro\u00dfm\u00fctig, da\u00df er nichts annehmen wolle: \u00bbNein, Senhor\nInglese (Herr Engl\u00e4nder), ich bringe Euch aus reiner Christenliebe nach\nBrasilien, und die Gegenst\u00e4nde, die Ihr mir anbietet, werden Euch dort\nzum Lebensunterhalt und zur R\u00fcckreise dienen.\u00ab\nSo edelm\u00fctig sein Vorschlag war, so p\u00fcnktlich erf\u00fcllte er ihn auch.\nKeiner seiner Matrosen durfte etwas von meiner Habe anr\u00fchren. Als er\nmein Boot in gutem Zustande sah, machte er mir den Vorschlag, es ihm\nzu verkaufen. Ich antwortete ihm, er habe sich so edelm\u00fctig gegen mich\ngezeigt, da\u00df ich es mir zur Ehre sch\u00e4tze, ihm mein Boot umsonst zu\n\u00fcberlassen. Der Kapit\u00e4n nahm jedoch das Anerbieten nicht an, sondern\nbezahlte das Boot und gab mir 80 St\u00fcck Dublonen; ebenso bot er 60\nSt\u00fcck f\u00fcr meinen Jungen Xury. Er wollte sich verpflichten, Xury nach\nzehn Jahren freizugeben, wenn er zum Christentum \u00fcberginge; der Maure\nwilligte freudig ein, und ich \u00fcberlie\u00df ihn dem Kapit\u00e4n.\nNach einer gl\u00fccklichen Fahrt, die ohne Unf\u00e4lle von statten ging, liefen\nwir in die Allerheiligenbai ein. Der edelm\u00fctige Kapit\u00e4n lie\u00df mich\nnichts f\u00fcr die \u00dcberfahrt bezahlen; er gab mir 20 Dukaten f\u00fcr das Fell\ndes Leoparden und 40 f\u00fcr das des L\u00f6wen; er lieferte mir alle meine\nSachen aus und kaufte mir alles ab, was ich ihm ablassen wollte, so z.\nB. den Flaschenbeh\u00e4lter, zwei meiner Flinten. Dies brachte mir gegen\n220 St\u00fcck Dublonen ein; mit diesem Kapital ging ich in Brasilien ans\nLand.\nKurze Zeit darauf empfahl mich der Kapit\u00e4n dem Hause eines Mannes,\nder ebenso rechtschaffen war, wie er selbst, und eine Zuckerpflanzung\nmit Siedewerk betrieb. Ich blieb einige Zeit bei ihm und machte mich\nbald mit dem Verfahren der Zuckerpflanzung vertraut. Dabei hatte\nich Gelegenheit, das bequeme Leben der Pflanzer sowie ihren schnell\nemporbl\u00fchenden Reichtum zu beobachten, so da\u00df in mir der Wunsch\naufstieg, mich ebenfalls als Pflanzer niederzulassen. Ich dachte nun an\nMittel, mein in London gelassenes Geld hierher kommen zu lassen, kaufte\nso viel Land, als meine Mittel erlaubten, und entwarf einen Plan zur\nErrichtung meiner Pflanzung.\n[Illustration: Robinson als Pflanzer.]\nDrittes Kapitel.\nRobinson als brasilischer Pflanzer.\n  Robinsons Aufenthalt in Brasilien als Pflanzer. -- Eine neue Reise.\n  -- Schiffbruch.\nMein edelgesinnter Kapit\u00e4n hatte drei Monate auf Ladung gewartet und\nstand eben im Begriff, die R\u00fcckreise anzutreten, als ich das Gespr\u00e4ch\nauf das Kapital brachte, welches ich noch in London stehen hatte. Er\nerteilte mir den wohlmeinenden Rat: \u00bbSenhor Inglese, gebt mir Vollmacht\nund legt mir einen Brief bei an diejenige Person in London, bei welcher\nEuer Geld steht. La\u00dft Eure Effekten nach Lissabon gehen, die ich als\nEuer Bevollm\u00e4chtigter Euch auf meiner n\u00e4chsten Reise mitbringen werde.\nDa aber die menschlichen Dinge tausend Zuf\u00e4lligkeiten ausgesetzt\nsind, so m\u00f6chte ich Euch raten, mir nur eine Anweisung auf 100 Pfund\nSterling, als die H\u00e4lfte Eures Verm\u00f6gens, auszustellen; denn geht diese\nverloren, so bleibt Euch doch noch die andre H\u00e4lfte.\u00ab\nIch nahm diesen Rat an und lie\u00df die Vollmacht f\u00fcr den Portugiesen\nausfertigen. Der Witwe des englischen Kapit\u00e4ns schilderte ich meine\nAbenteuer, meine Sklaverei, mein Entrinnen sowie das Zusammentreffen\nmit dem portugiesischen Kapit\u00e4n und dessen menschenfreundlichen\nBeistand. Als der Mann nach Lissabon kam, fand er Mittel, der Frau\nmeines verstorbenen Freundes meinen Brief zu \u00fcbersenden, worauf sie ihm\nnicht nur das bare Geld, sondern auch ein Geschenk f\u00fcr seine liebevolle\nTeilnahme einschickte. Der Kaufmann in London legte diese 100 Pfund\nin englischen Waren an, wie ihm der Kapit\u00e4n aufgetragen hatte, und\nsandte sie nach Lissabon ein. Diese Waren nebst allerhand n\u00fctzlichen\nWerkzeugen \u00fcberschickte mir der Kapit\u00e4n; ja sogar einen Diener hatte\ner f\u00fcr die f\u00fcnf Pfund Sterling, die er von der Witwe zum Geschenk\nerhalten, f\u00fcr mich angeworben mit der Verpflichtung, mir sechs Jahre\nzu dienen. Auch der Erl\u00f6s aus den englischen Manufakturwaren \u00fcbertraf\nmeine Erwartungen, so da\u00df ich mit meinen Verm\u00f6gensverh\u00e4ltnissen\nvollkommen zufrieden sein konnte. Nun dachte ich daran, noch einen\neurop\u00e4ischen Diener zu mieten und einen Neger zu kaufen. Die Ernte im\nn\u00e4chsten Jahre fiel gl\u00e4nzend aus.\nW\u00e4re ich in den Verh\u00e4ltnissen geblieben, in welchen ich mich\njetzt befand, so h\u00e4tte ich bis an mein Lebensende ein ruhiges und\nbeschauliches Gl\u00fcck genie\u00dfen k\u00f6nnen. Allein in meinem Kopfe tummelten\nsich tausend hochfahrende Unternehmungen. Dergleichen Pl\u00e4ne sind ja\noft das Verderben selbst erfahrener M\u00e4nner, und ich sollte das auch\nempfinden.\nAls Pflanzer in Brasilien hatte ich zum Nachbar einen Portugiesen aus\nLissabon von englischer Herkunft, Namens Wells, dessen Umst\u00e4nde den\nmeinigen \u00e4hnlich waren. Zwei Jahre lang hatten wir alle H\u00e4nde voll zu\nthun, um nur unsern Lebensunterhalt zu verdienen, aber schon im dritten\nJahre ernteten wir Tabak, und im vierten Jahre gedachten wir Zuckerrohr\nzu bauen. Ich hatte 50 gro\u00dfe Rollen Tabak, von denen jede 100 Pfund\nwog, auf meinem eignen Grund und Boden erbaut und sie f\u00fcr die R\u00fcckkehr\nder Flotte von Lissabon wohl aufbewahrt. Indes f\u00fchlten wir recht\ndr\u00fcckend den Mangel an mithelfenden Armen, und ich w\u00fcnschte mehr als\nje meinen flinken Xury zur\u00fcck, der mir recht gute Dienste h\u00e4tte leisten\nk\u00f6nnen.\nDa wir die s\u00e4mtlichen Arbeiten nicht selbst ausf\u00fchren konnten, blieben\nwir mit vielem im R\u00fcckstande. Es w\u00e4hrte nicht lange, da f\u00fchlte ich mich\nin meiner Lebensweise unbehaglich. Nat\u00fcrlich! Ich hatte mich einer\nBesch\u00e4ftigung hingegeben, die meiner Wanderlust gerade entgegenlief.\nJetzt sah ich ein, da\u00df mein Vater recht hatte, als er mir den\nMittelstand als den gl\u00fccklichsten angepriesen. \u00bbUnd dies alles\u00ab, sagte\nich h\u00e4ufig zu mir selbst, \u00bbh\u00e4ttest du leichter in deinem Vaterlande\nhaben k\u00f6nnen; manche Leiden h\u00e4ttest du dir erspart, wenn du daheim\ngeblieben w\u00e4rst! Jetzt mu\u00dft du nun hier leben, wo kein Freund an deinem\nSchicksal teilnimmt.\u00ab\nW\u00e4hrend der vier Jahre meines Aufenthalts in Brasilien hatte ich die\nLandessprache erlernt und ebenso die Bekanntschaft mehrerer Kaufleute\nin San Salvador gemacht, mit denen ich mich manchmal \u00fcber meine\nJugendschicksale und besonders \u00fcber die Reisen an der Guineak\u00fcste\nunterhielt. Dabei lie\u00df ich nicht unerw\u00e4hnt, mit welcher Leichtigkeit\nman dort durch Austausch von Kleinigkeiten, wie Glasperlen, Spiegeln,\nMessern, Spielzeug und dergleichen, gegen Goldstaub ein gutes Gesch\u00e4ft\nmachen k\u00f6nne. Besonders aufmerksame Zuh\u00f6rer hatte ich an jenen\nKaufleuten, wenn ich von dem Negerhandel sprach, der damals noch\nausschlie\u00dflich von Spanien und Portugal aus getrieben wurde.\nEines Tages kamen drei jener Kaufleute zu mir, um mir einen Vorschlag\nzu machen; sie teilten mir mit, sie h\u00e4tten alle drei gleich mir\nPflanzungen, denen es zum besseren Betriebe nur an geeigneten\nArbeitskr\u00e4ften fehle. Deshalb wollten sie ein Schiff nach Guinea\nausr\u00fcsten, nicht etwa um Sklavenhandel zu treiben, sondern um Schwarze\naus Afrika zu holen und sie gleichm\u00e4\u00dfig unter sich zu verteilen. Es sei\nnur noch die Frage, ob ich als Aufseher des Schiffes mitgehen und den\nHandel an der Guineak\u00fcste leiten wolle. F\u00fcr die Einwilligung w\u00fcrden sie\nmich durch einen gleichen Anteil an den Negern entsch\u00e4digen sowie durch\nden Vorteil, keine Kosten zu dem Unternehmen beisteuern zu m\u00fcssen.\nObgleich dieser Vorschlag unrecht war, wie aller Negerhandel, war ich\ndoch so th\u00f6richt, darauf einzugehen. Ich stellte nur die Bedingung, da\u00df\nmeine Pflanzung bis zu meiner R\u00fcckkehr gut \u00fcberwacht w\u00fcrde und, falls\nmir ein Ungl\u00fcck widerf\u00fchre, demjenigen \u00fcbergeben werden sollte, den ich\nals Nachfolger bezeichnete. Zu meinem Universalerben setzte ich den\nportugiesischen Kapit\u00e4n ein, unter der Bedingung, da\u00df er die H\u00e4lfte\nmeines Verm\u00f6gens nach England gelangen lassen solle.\nDie Ausr\u00fcstung des Schiffes ging rasch vor sich; am 1. September 1659,\ndemselben Tage, an welchem ich vor acht Jahren das elterliche Haus\nverlassen hatte, um mich in Hull einzuschiffen, stachen wir in See.\nUnser Schiff hatte gegen 120 Tonnen, f\u00fchrte sechs Kanonen und 14 Mann,\nden Kapit\u00e4n samt seinem Schiffsjungen und mich eingerechnet. Die Ladung\ndes Schiffes bestand nur aus solchem Tand, der sich am besten zum\nHandel mit Negern eignet.\nWir steuerten anfangs l\u00e4ngs der K\u00fcste von Brasilien nordw\u00e4rts, weil\nwir beabsichtigten, den 12. Grad n\u00f6rdlicher Breite zu erreichen und\ndann, wie damals \u00fcblich, nach Afrika hin\u00fcberzusegeln. Solange wir an\nder K\u00fcste hinfuhren, wurden wir von dem pr\u00e4chtigsten Wetter beg\u00fcnstigt;\nbei dem Kap St. Augustin verloren wir das Land aus dem Gesicht und\nsteuerten, als wollten wir die Insel Fernando de Naronha erreichen,\nNordost bei Nord. Die eben genannte Insel lie\u00dfen wir aber \u00f6stlich\nliegen und passierten nach einer Fahrt von zw\u00f6lf Tagen die Linie.\nBisher hatten wir uns des sch\u00f6nsten Wetters zu erfreuen gehabt, jetzt\naber brach ein heftiger Wirbelwind los.\nZw\u00f6lf Tage hindurch blieben wir ein Spiel der Winde. Dann lie\u00df der\nSturm endlich etwas nach; der Steuermann fand, da\u00df wir uns in der\nRichtung nach der K\u00fcste von Guinea oberhalb des Amazonenstromes und\nnicht weit vom Orinoko befanden. Wir \u00fcberlegten, was unter diesen\nUmst\u00e4nden zu thun sei, zumal das Schiff ein Leck bekommen hatte;\nendlich entschlossen wir uns, nach Barbados zu segeln, indem wir\nuns weit genug auf offener See hielten, um die Einfahrt in den\nMexikanischen Meerbusen zu vermeiden. In vierzehn Tagen konnten wir bei\nden Karibischen Inseln sein und steuerten deshalb nordwestlich.\nEs sollte jedoch anders kommen, als wir dachten. Unter dem 14.\nBreitengrade erhob sich von neuem ein gewaltiger Sturm und trieb uns\nweit fort, als pl\u00f6tzlich inmitten aller Schrecknisse der Ruf: \u00bbLand!\nLand!\u00ab ert\u00f6nte. Schon wollten wir sehen, welchem Teile der Welt wir\nentgegengingen, als ein erneuter heftiger Windsto\u00df unser Fahrzeug auf\neine Sandbank trieb.\nDie Wogen st\u00fcrzten sch\u00e4umend \u00fcber das Deck, und jeder fl\u00fcchtete in\nsein Quartier, um sich vor der Wut des Elementes zu sch\u00fctzen. Der Wind\ntobte fortw\u00e4hrend heftig, und das Fahrzeug konnte in wenigen Minuten\nzertr\u00fcmmert sein, wenn es nicht pl\u00f6tzlich umschlug. Am Hinterteil\ndes Schiffes hing unser Boot, sein Steuerruder war zertr\u00fcmmert und\ndie zerschmetterten Teile tanzten auf den emp\u00f6rten Wellen. Zwar lag\nnoch die Schaluppe an Bord, doch schien es uns unm\u00f6glich, dieselbe\nins Wasser zu setzen. Die Todesangst zwang uns endlich doch, einen\nverzweifelten Versuch zu machen, und den vereinten Anstrengungen gelang\nes, die Schaluppe \u00fcber Bord zu bringen. Wir sprangen alle hinein und\nlie\u00dfen uns -- im ganzen elf Personen -- von Wind und Wogen treiben,\nwohin es Gott gefiel.\nWir sahen wohl ein, da\u00df unser Boot bei der hochgehenden See nicht lange\naushalten w\u00fcrde. Mit allen Kr\u00e4ften ruderten wir dem Lande zu, aber\nso schweren Herzens, als ginge es zum Hochgericht; denn wir konnten\nvoraussetzen, da\u00df das Boot, wenn es sich der K\u00fcste n\u00e4herte, von der\nMacht der Wogen zertr\u00fcmmert werden w\u00fcrde. So schien es, als ob wir\nselbst unsern Untergang beschleunigten.\nVon welcher Beschaffenheit die K\u00fcste vor uns war, ob felsig oder\nsandig, hoch oder flach -- wir wu\u00dften es nicht. Der einzige\nHoffnungsschimmer, der uns noch winkte, blieb die M\u00f6glichkeit, in die\nM\u00fcndung eines Flusses oder eines Meerbusens einzulaufen, wo wir das\nWasser ruhiger finden konnten. Allein nichts von alledem, ja, das\nLand erschien uns, je n\u00e4her wir kamen, grauenhafter als die See, denn\nes starrten uns f\u00fcrchterliche Felsenriffe entgegen. So mochten wir\netwa anderthalb Meilen fortgetrieben sein, als eine berghohe Welle\nhinter unsrer Schaluppe einherrollte, uns mit sicherem Untergang\nbedrohend; sie st\u00fcrzte mit solcher Heftigkeit auf unser Boot, da\u00df es\naugenblicklich umschlug. Wir wurden getrennt und versanken in den\nAbgrund, Gott um Beistand anflehend.\nObgleich ich gut schwimmen konnte, so vermochte ich mich doch nicht\nzur Oberfl\u00e4che emporzuarbeiten, um Atem zu holen, bis endlich die\nWoge, die mich gegen das Ufer hingerissen hatte, sich zur\u00fcckzog und\nmich auf dem Trockenen zur\u00fccklie\u00df, freilich zum Tode ermattet und\nau\u00dfer Atem durch das Wasser, welches ich verschluckt hatte. Ich\nf\u00fchlte noch so viel Geistesgegenwart und Kraft des K\u00f6rpers, da\u00df ich\nmich aufraffte und, da ich die K\u00fcste nahe vor mir sah, einen Versuch\nmachte, sie zu erreichen, ehe eine andre Welle mich wieder zur\u00fcckri\u00df.\nMeine Widerstandskraft erwies sich jedoch dem Elemente gegen\u00fcber als\nzu schwach. Ich sah die See riesengro\u00df, wie einen erbitterten Feind,\nvon neuem gegen mich heranrauschen und ich hatte keine Kraft mehr, ihr\nzu widerstehen. Das Wasser drang an, ich suchte den Kopf oberhalb zu\nbehalten und schwimmend landeinw\u00e4rts zu kommen. Doch die Wassermenge\nbegrub mich viele Meter tief, und ich f\u00fchlte, wie ich von ihr nach dem\nUfer gerissen wurde.\nSchon war ich dem Ersticken nahe, als ich mit Kopf und H\u00e4nden aus\ndem Wasser emporscho\u00df. Ich fa\u00dfte neuen Mut, obgleich ich mich nur\nzwei Sekunden \u00fcber Wasser hielt, um Atem zu sch\u00f6pfen. Darauf st\u00fcrzten\nwieder die Wellen \u00fcber mich weg, und dann bemerkte ich, wie sie wieder\nzur\u00fcckgingen.\nDie letzte Welle h\u00e4tte mir gef\u00e4hrlich werden k\u00f6nnen, denn ich wurde\nmit solcher Gewalt gegen ein Felsenriff geschleudert, da\u00df ich fast das\nBewu\u00dftsein verlor. Jetzt klammerte ich mich fest an das Felsenst\u00fcck (S.\n31) und hielt den Atem so lange an, bis das Wasser zur\u00fcckgegangen war.\nNun kletterte ich die Klippen empor und warf mich auf das Gras, sicher\nvor dem Anfluten des Wassers und seinen Gefahren. Ich blickte zum\nHimmel und dankte inbr\u00fcnstig dem Herrn, der mich so wunderbar vom Tode\nerrettet hatte.\nDas gescheiterte Schiff lag, von berghohen Wogen umbraust, in weiter\nFerne, und meine Lage kam mir trostlos vor. Ich war ganz durchn\u00e4\u00dft,\nund doch konnte ich die Kleider nicht wechseln, Hunger und Durst\nqu\u00e4lten mich, und es fehlten mir Waffen, um durch Erlegung eines Tieres\nmein Leben zu fristen. So bot sich mir nur die Aussicht, entweder\nHungers zu sterben oder von wilden Tieren zerrissen zu werden. Ich\nhatte nichts weiter bei mir als ein Messer, eine Tabakspfeife und etwas\nTabak in einem Beutel; das war mein ganzer Vorrat und -- der war na\u00df.\nVerzweifelt ging ich einige hundert Schritte vorw\u00e4rts und fand frisches\nWasser, das mich wunderbar erquickte; Nahrungsmittel sah ich indes\nnirgends und begn\u00fcgte mich daher, nach Seemannsbrauch, Tabak zu kauen.\nDie Nacht brach allm\u00e4hlich herein. Schwere, finstere Wolken jagten am\nHimmel dahin und lie\u00dfen die Nacht nur um so unheimlicher erscheinen.\nDer Wind sch\u00fcttelte die \u00c4ste der B\u00e4ume, und die Wellen brachen sich\ntosend an den Klippen. Mich \u00fcberkam die Furcht vor rei\u00dfenden Tieren,\ndenen ich waffenlos preisgegeben war.\nDa kam mir der Gedanke, mir einen handfesten Stock zur Waffe\nabzuschneiden und mit diesem mich auf einen Baum emporzuschwingen und\ndarauf die Nacht zuzubringen. Bald versank ich in einen tiefen Schlaf,\naus welchem ich erst nach vielen Stunden wiedererwachte.\n[Illustration: \u00bbGerettet!\u00ab]\nViertes Kapitel.\nRettung nach dem Schiffbruch.\n  Robinson schwimmt an das Wrack. -- Erbauung eines Flo\u00dfes. -- Er\n  landet gl\u00fccklich mit seiner Fracht. -- T\u00e4gliche Fahrten nach dem\n  Wrack. -- Errichtung seiner Wohnung. -- Erbeutung von Ziegen. --\n  Robinsons Kalender. -- Tagebuch.\nAls ich erwachte, stand die Sonne schon hoch am Himmel. Das Wetter war\nheiter, der Sturm hatte sich gelegt; das Meer war ruhig. Am meisten\n\u00fcberraschte mich der Umstand, da\u00df das Schiff durch die Flut gehoben und\nfast bis zu dem Punkte getrieben wurde, an welchem mich tags vorher\ndie Wogen gegen die Felsen warfen. Das Schiff war jetzt nur eine\nhalbe Stunde vom Strande entfernt und schien sich noch aufrecht zu\nhalten. Ich nahm mir deshalb vor, an Bord zu gehen, um mich mit noch zu\nbeschaffenden Bed\u00fcrfnissen zu versehen.\nNachdem ich aus meinem Schlafquartier in der luftigen H\u00f6he\nherabgestiegen, bemerkte ich zuerst das Boot, welches etwa eine Stunde\nentfernt rechter Hand auf dem Strande lag. Ich suchte dasselbe zu\nerreichen, doch hinderte mich daran ein kleiner Meeresarm; ebensowenig\nvermochte ich zu dem Schiffe zu gelangen.\nAm Nachmittag war die Flut bereits so weit zur\u00fcckgewichen, da\u00df ich\nmich bis auf wenige hundert Schritte dem Wrack n\u00e4hern konnte. Ich\nlegte meine Oberkleider ab und schwamm dem Schiffe zu. Als ich indes\nnahe kam, fand ich eine neue Schwierigkeit; das Schiff hatte sich auf\ndie Seite gelegt und ragte hoch \u00fcber das Wasser empor; daher konnte\nich nicht an Bord kommen. Zweimal schwamm ich um das Fahrzeug herum,\nohne etwas zu finden, woran ich mich h\u00e4tte in die H\u00f6he arbeiten\nk\u00f6nnen. Endlich gewahrte ich ein Tauende, welches am Vorderteil so\nweit herabhing, da\u00df ich daran emporklettern konnte. Oben angekommen,\nsah ich, da\u00df das leck gewordene Schiff viel Wasser eingelassen hatte.\nEs lag auf einer Schlammbank; das Hinterteil ragte empor, w\u00e4hrend das\nVorderteil fast ganz vom Wasser bedeckt war. Mein erster Gang galt\nder Brotkammer, wo ich zu meiner Freude Mundvorr\u00e4te in unverdorbenem\nZustande fand. Ich f\u00fcllte meine Taschen mit Schiffszwieback und\nentdeckte dann in der Kaj\u00fctte Rum, von dem ich einen t\u00fcchtigen Schluck\nzu mir nahm. Es fehlte mir jetzt nur an einem Boote, um die mir n\u00f6tigen\nSachen ans Land zu schaffen. Da beschlo\u00df ich, mir selbst ein Flo\u00df zu\nbauen. An Bord fand ich einige Raaen, zwei oder drei h\u00f6lzerne Balken\nund ein paar Bramstengen. Aus der Zimmermannskiste entnahm ich S\u00e4gen,\nBeile, Hammer und N\u00e4gel. Ich warf nun die Holzbalken in das Meer,\nnachdem ich sie vorher mit Tauen untereinander verbunden hatte, damit\nsie nicht fortgerissen werden konnten. Dann stieg ich an der Seite des\nSchiffes hinab und verband die Holzst\u00fccke zu einer Art Flo\u00df; hierauf\nnagelte ich einige Bretter dar\u00fcber und konnte mich nun schon\ndarauf wagen. Allein f\u00fcr eine gr\u00f6\u00dfere Ladung w\u00e4re es immerhin noch zu\nleicht gewesen; ich schnitt deshalb mit der Zimmermannss\u00e4ge eine der\nBramstengen in drei St\u00fccke und verst\u00e4rkte mit diesen mein Flo\u00df. Dann\ndachte ich daran, wie ich es am vorteilhaftesten befrachten und die\nLadung gegen das Wasser sichern k\u00f6nnte. -- Zuv\u00f6rderst brachte ich auf\ndas Flo\u00df alle Bretter, deren ich habhaft werden konnte; hierauf f\u00fcllte\nich zwei Matrosenkisten mit Brot, Reis, holl\u00e4ndischen K\u00e4sen, f\u00fcnf St\u00fcck\nger\u00e4ucherten Ziegenfleisches und einem kleinen Rest Roggen und Gerste.\n[Illustration: Robinsons R\u00fcckkehr vom Wrack.]\nW\u00e4hrend ich alle Gegenst\u00e4nde zusammenpackte, begann die Flut zu\nsteigen; ich bemerkte, da\u00df meine Weste und mein Hemd, die ich am Ufer\nzur\u00fcckgelassen hatte, davonschwammen. Ich nahm deshalb Bedacht, nach\nKleidungsst\u00fccken zu suchen, deren ich genug fand; auch dachte ich an\nMunition und Waffen. In der gro\u00dfen Kaj\u00fctte waren zwei gute Jagdflinten\nsowie zwei Pistolen; daneben entdeckte ich einen kleinen Beutel mit\nSchrot, zwei alte verrostete Degen und etliche Pulverh\u00f6rner. Ich\nerinnerte mich, da\u00df drei Pulverf\u00e4sser auf dem Schiffe waren, aber ich\nwu\u00dfte nicht, wo unser Gesch\u00fctzmeister sie hingestellt hatte. Nach\nvielem Suchen fand ich sie; zwei zeigten sich trocken und gut erhalten,\nw\u00e4hrend das dritte durch das Wasser verdorben war; die beiden ersteren\nsamt den Waffen trug ich auf mein Flo\u00df. Dann fielen mir noch etliche\nRuder in die H\u00e4nde, die zur Schaluppe geh\u00f6rt hatten, sowie zwei S\u00e4gen,\neine Axt, ein Hammer und andre brauchbare Werkzeuge. Nunmehr setzte\nich mein Flo\u00df in Bewegung; etwa eine halbe Stunde weit strich es\nglatt dahin, nur trieb es ein wenig seitw\u00e4rts, woraus ich schlie\u00dfen\nmu\u00dfte, da\u00df eine Bucht oder die M\u00fcndung eines Flusses diese Str\u00f6mung\nherbeif\u00fchrte. In der That zeigte sich bald vor mir eine kleine \u00d6ffnung,\nin welche die Flut m\u00e4chtig eindrang.\nSo gut ich konnte, lenkte ich nun mein Flo\u00df, um es in die Mitte des\nFahrwassers zu bringen. Ich bot alles m\u00f6gliche auf, indem ich meinen\nR\u00fccken gegen die Kisten stemmte und zu gleicher Zeit mich bem\u00fchte, das\nFlo\u00df richtig zu leiten. Fast eine halbe Stunde mu\u00dfte ich in dieser\nanstrengenden Stellung aushalten, bis endlich die steigende Flut mein\nFlo\u00df hob, worauf ich gl\u00fccklich in die Bucht einlief. Da aber die Ufer\nsteil emporstiegen, so bem\u00fchte ich mich, mein Flo\u00df durch das Ruder wie\ndurch einen Anker festzuhalten, bis die Flut ihre gr\u00f6\u00dfte H\u00f6he erreicht\nhaben w\u00fcrde. Sp\u00e4ter trieb ich auf eine flache Uferstelle und heftete\nzwei meiner zerbrochenen Ruder an zwei Enden in den Grund. Auf diese\nArt lag ich so lange still, bis die Ebbe wiedereintrat, worauf mein\nFlo\u00df samt seiner Ladung auf dem Trockenen sitzen blieb.\nIch darf hier nicht vergessen, da\u00df wir an Bord einen Hund und zwei\nKatzen hatten. Letztere hatte ich auf das Flo\u00df mitgenommen, der Hund\naber war selbst ins Meer gesprungen und folgte mir schwimmend bis ans\nUfer. Dieses anh\u00e4ngliche Tier blieb jahrelang mein treuer Gef\u00e4hrte und\nleistete mir wesentliche Dienste. Es fehlte ihm nur die Sprache, um mir\ndie Gesellschaft eines Menschen zu ersetzen.\nKaum eine halbe Stunde fern dem Punkte, wo ich mit meinem Flo\u00df gelandet\nwar, erhob sich ein steiler Berg, welcher aus einer Kette andrer Berge,\ndie sich nach Norden hinzog, am h\u00f6chsten emporragte. Ich nahm eine\nJagdflinte, eine Pistole und ein gef\u00fclltes Pulverhorn, und so bewaffnet\nerklomm ich die Spitze des Berges. Von hier aus sah ich erst, da\u00df ich\nmich auf einer Insel befand. Nirgends war gr\u00f6\u00dferes Land zu sehen, nur\nin der Ferne hohe, kaum erkennbare Felsenriffe, und nach Westen zu,\netwa zwei Stunden weit, zwei kleinere Inseln. Allem Anscheine nach war\ndie Insel, auf der ich mich befand, unbewohnt; auch von wilden Tieren\nkonnte ich nichts wahrnehmen. Dagegen sah ich eine gro\u00dfe Menge V\u00f6gel,\nderen Gattung ich nicht kannte und die sich vielleicht zur Speise nicht\neinmal eigneten. Bei meiner R\u00fcckkehr scho\u00df ich einen gro\u00dfen Vogel, der\nauf einem Baume sa\u00df. Es war wohl der erste Schu\u00df, welcher hier seit\nErschaffung der Welt gefallen. Denn kaum ert\u00f6nte der Knall, als sich\naus allen Teilen des Geh\u00f6lzes unz\u00e4hlige V\u00f6gel aller Art erhoben und mit\nwirrem Geschrei durcheinander emporschwirrten. Der erlegte Vogel glich\nan Farbe und Gestalt einem Habicht, nur die Form seiner Klauen war\netwas abweichend. Leider erwies sich sein Fleisch als ungenie\u00dfbar.\n[Illustration: Robinson auf der Vogeljagd.]\nIch mu\u00dfte schon mit den Ergebnissen dieser ersten Entdeckungsreise\nzufrieden sein und kehrte deshalb nach meinem Flo\u00df zur\u00fcck. Jetzt\nschiffte ich meine Ladung aus, womit ich den Rest des Tages verbrachte.\nWas in der Nacht aus mir werden sollte, wu\u00dfte ich noch nicht,\ndenn auf blo\u00dfer Erde zu schlafen schien mir bedenklich. Deshalb\nverbarrikadierte ich mich mit Kisten und Brettern, die ich ans Land\ngebracht hatte, und baute mir f\u00fcr die Nacht eine Art H\u00fctte.\nAm n\u00e4chsten Morgen \u00fcberlegte ich, da\u00df ich aus dem gestrandeten Schiffe\nwohl noch eine Menge brauchbarer Dinge mir beschaffen k\u00f6nnte, und\nich beschlo\u00df, wenn m\u00f6glich, eine zweite Reise nach dem Fahrzeuge\nzu unternehmen, ehe ein n\u00e4chster Seesturm das Wrack vollst\u00e4ndig\nzertr\u00fcmmern w\u00fcrde.\nZu solchem Zwecke beschlo\u00df ich, in gleicher Weise wie das erste Mal zu\nverfahren. Ich lie\u00df meine Kleider in der H\u00fctte zur\u00fcck und behielt au\u00dfer\ndem Hemd nur leinene Beinkleider sowie die Schuhe an. In diesem Anzuge\nschwamm ich an das Wrack und baute dort schneller als das erste Mal ein\ngeeigneteres Flo\u00df zur Aufnahme einer neuen Ladung. Unter den Vorr\u00e4ten\ndes Zimmermanns fand ich ein paar Beutel mit N\u00e4geln und Schrauben,\neinen gro\u00dfen Bohrer, eine Anzahl Beile und \u00c4xte und einen Schleifstein.\nVon den Ger\u00e4tschaften des Kanoniers nahm ich zwei oder drei Hebeeisen,\nzwei F\u00e4\u00dfchen mit Musketenkugeln, sieben Musketen und eine Bergflinte,\neinen kleinen Vorrat Pulver, einen t\u00fcchtigen Beutel mit Schrot und eine\ngro\u00dfe Rolle d\u00fcnngeschlagenes Blei.\nAu\u00dferdem eignete ich mir alle Kleidungsst\u00fccke an, die ich nur finden\nkonnte, ferner ein Vormarssegel sowie eine H\u00e4ngematte mit Bettzeug.\nReich beladen brachte ich dann das Flo\u00df zu meiner Freude gl\u00fccklich ans\nLand.\nNun gab es alle H\u00e4nde voll zu thun, um mittels der Segel und etlicher\nPf\u00e4hle ein Zelt zu errichten, und alles, was etwa durch die Witterung\nSchaden leiden k\u00f6nnte, unter Dach und Fach zu bringen. Ich stellte\nleere F\u00e4sser, Kisten und Tonnen um das Zelt und umgab mich mit einem\nWall, so da\u00df ich mich vor einem ersten Angriff oder \u00dcberfall von\nMenschen oder Tieren gesichert glauben durfte. Auch verschlo\u00df ich den\nEingang mit Brettern, breitete eine der Matratzen auf den Boden, legte\nzwei Pistolen an das Kopfende, eine geladene Flinte l\u00e4ngs der Seite des\nLagers und schlief zum erstenmal wieder in behaglicher Weise ungest\u00f6rt\nbis zum Morgen.\nAm dritten Tage begab ich mich wiederum an Bord des Wracks. Diesmal\nnahm ich alle Taue, Stricke und Schn\u00fcre mit, die noch aufzufinden\nwaren, ebenso ein gro\u00dfes St\u00fcck Zeug zum Ausbessern der besch\u00e4digten\nSegel sowie das Fa\u00df mit dem na\u00df gewordenen Pulver. Nat\u00fcrlich lie\u00df ich\nauch die Segel nicht zur\u00fcck, die mir sp\u00e4ter trefflich zu statten kamen.\nDie gr\u00f6\u00dfte Freude verursachte es mir jedoch, als ich eine gro\u00dfe Tonne\nmit Brot, drei F\u00e4sser voll Rum, eine Kiste Zucker und eine Tonne mit\nfeinem Mehl entdeckte. Auch diesmal brachte ich meine Ladung unversehrt\nans Land.\nSo unternahm ich regelm\u00e4\u00dfig meine t\u00e4glichen Ausfahrten und hatte in\nzw\u00f6lf Fahrten alles von dem gestrandeten Schiffe geborgen, was ich auf\nmeinem kleinen Flo\u00df fortbringen konnte. Als ich mich zum letztenmal auf\ndem Schiffe befand, entdeckte ich noch in der Schublade eines kleinen\nTisches einige Rasiermesser, \u00fcber ein Dutzend Tischmesser, Gabeln und\nL\u00f6ffel, sowie europ\u00e4ische und brasilische Gold- und Silberm\u00fcnzen im\nWerte von 40 Pfund Sterling (800 Mark). Ich konnte mich bei dem Funde\neines sp\u00f6ttischen L\u00e4chelns nicht erwehren. \u00bbWas soll mir doch\u00ab, dachte\nich zun\u00e4chst, \u00bbdieses gl\u00e4nzende Metall n\u00fctzen? Ein einziges Messer\nist mir n\u00fctzlicher als all das Gold und Silber! Lohnt es sich wohl\nder M\u00fche, es nur vom Boden aufzuheben? Ich brauche es nicht; mag es\nbleiben!\u00ab Aber schon nach wenigen Augenblicken besann ich mich eines\nandern, wickelte das Geld in ein St\u00fcck Leinwand und machte mich dann an\ndie Errichtung des Flo\u00dfes.\nW\u00e4hrend ich mit dieser Arbeit besch\u00e4ftigt war, erhob sich ein starker\nWind vom Lande her, und den Himmel \u00fcberzogen schwere, dunkle Wolken.\nIch sah wohl ein, da\u00df keine Zeit zu verlieren war, daher sprang ich\nins Wasser und erreichte schwimmend gl\u00fccklich das Ufer. Immer heftiger\nblies der Wind und immer hohler gingen die Wogen der See; ich aber\nsa\u00df wohlgeborgen in meinem kleinen Zelte -- jetzt noch ein Kr\u00f6sus\nunter meinen Reicht\u00fcmern. Die ganze Nacht hindurch hatte der Sturm mit\nsolcher Heftigkeit getobt, da\u00df am Morgen von dem gestrandeten Schiffe\nnichts mehr zu erblicken war. Nur bei tiefstem Wasserstande konnte man\nd\u00fcrftige Tr\u00fcmmer des Wracks aus den Fluten emporragen sehen. Zun\u00e4chst\nwar ich nicht wenig best\u00fcrzt; dann aber schlug ich mir das ganze\nSchiff aus dem Sinne, indem ich mich damit tr\u00f6stete, die wertvollste\nHabe, selbst die Tiere, die ich noch lebend gefunden, in mein neues\nStandquartier gerettet zu haben.\nDar\u00fcber konnte ich freilich nicht im Zweifel sein, da\u00df meine Wohnung\nnur den ersten Anforderungen gen\u00fcge, denn sie befand sich in der N\u00e4he\nder K\u00fcste auf feuchtem Boden. Aber was sollte ich nun zum Aufenthalt\nw\u00e4hlen? Ein Zelt oder eine H\u00f6hle? -- Vielleicht beides! Ich begab mich\nwiederum auf Entdeckungsreisen und gelangte an einen H\u00fcgel, dessen\neine Seite eine hohe senkrechte Felsenwand bildete. Diese erschien\nmir geeignet, Schutz vor feindlichen Menschen und Tieren sowie vor\ngl\u00fchenden Sonnenstrahlen zu gew\u00e4hren. Au\u00dferdem bot sich mir von\ndieser Stelle auch die Aussicht auf das weite Meer, so da\u00df ich jedes\nvorbeisegelnde Schiff erblicken konnte. Am Fu\u00dfe der Felswand bemerkte\nich eine Vertiefung, die jedoch keine eigentliche H\u00f6hle genannt werden\nkonnte. Ihr unmittelbar gegen\u00fcber w\u00e4hlte ich meine Wohnst\u00e4tte auf dem\noberen Teile der Fl\u00e4che. Diese Ebene war ansehnlich breit und dehnte\nsich noch einmal so lang wie ein gr\u00fcner Rasenteppich vor meinem Zelte\naus. Da sie auf der Nordwestseite des H\u00fcgels lag und den k\u00fchlenden\nWinden freien Zutritt gestattete, so sah ich mich auch vor der\ngl\u00fchenden Hitze des tropischen Himmels gesch\u00fctzt.\nEhe ich mein Zelt aufschlug, beschrieb ich vor der H\u00f6hlung einen\nHalbkreis, der etwa 9 Meter vom Felsen aus enthielt. In diesen\nHalbkreis rammte ich, je 16 Zentimeter voneinander, zwei Reihen Pf\u00e4hle\nso fest in die Erde ein, da\u00df sie wie S\u00e4ulen standen; sie ragten\nanderthalb Meter \u00fcber den Boden empor und waren oben zugespitzt.\nHierauf legte ich die Tauenden, die ich auf dem Schiffe abgeschnitten\nhatte, zwischen diese beiden Palissadenreihen auf der Spitze\n\u00fcbereinander und stemmte von der Seite andre Pf\u00e4hle dagegen, so da\u00df\nweder Menschen noch Tiere diesen Zaun zu durchbrechen vermochten.\nDer Eingang bestand nicht in einer Th\u00fcr, sondern ich mu\u00dfte mit Hilfe\neiner Leiter dar\u00fcber klettern. In diese Zaunfestung nun brachte ich\nmit unendlicher Anstrengung alle meine Reicht\u00fcmer und errichtete dann\nein ger\u00e4umiges Zelt, das ich doppelt fertigte, indem ich \u00fcber die\nuntere Zeltdecke noch eine obere spannte. Diese letztere bedeckte ich\nwiederum mit beteerter Leinwand, welche ich unter dem Segelwerk des\nWracks gefunden hatte. Statt auf niederer Erde zu schlafen, wie in\nmeinem ersten Quartier, streckte ich mich jetzt behaglich in derselben\nH\u00e4ngematte, in welcher sich fr\u00fcher der Kapit\u00e4n gewiegt hatte.\nMeine n\u00e4chste Arbeit galt nun der Aufgabe, den Felsen weiter\nauszuh\u00f6hlen, um dort alle jene Lebensmittel und sonstigen Gegenst\u00e4nde\nunterzubringen, die ich gegen N\u00e4sse sch\u00fctzen mu\u00dfte. Diese\nBesch\u00e4ftigung nahm mich mehrere Tage in Anspruch; doch ehe noch alles\nzustande gekommen war, trat ein Ereignis ein, das mich zu gro\u00dfer\nVorsicht mahnte.\nEines Tages stand ein schreckliches Gewitter am Himmel, und der\nRegen ergo\u00df sich in Str\u00f6men auf den Erdboden. Da fuhr pl\u00f6tzlich ein\nblendender Blitz hernieder und erhellte die Landschaft auf einige\nSekunden mit blaurotem Licht. \u00bbMein Pulver, mein Pulver!\u00ab dachte ich.\nMein Herz pochte mit gewaltigen Schl\u00e4gen; dann lie\u00df ich alle andern\nArbeiten im Stich und besch\u00e4ftigte mich damit, meinen Pulvervorrat in\nkleine Pakete zu teilen und in Kistchen und Beuteln wohl zu verwahren.\nSo hatte ich 240 Pfund in etwa hundert verschiedene P\u00e4ckchen gesondert\nund jedes derselben vorsichtig so weit von dem andern entfernt\ngestellt, da\u00df, wenn sich auch ungl\u00fccklicherweise eines derselben\nentz\u00fcndete, doch die \u00fcbrigen nicht zugleich in die Luft fliegen konnten.\nBei meinem ersten Morgenspaziergange, welchen ich, mit einer Flinte\nbewaffnet, unternahm, um irgend etwas E\u00dfbares zu schie\u00dfen, machte\nich die erfreuliche Entdeckung, da\u00df die Insel mit zahlreichen Ziegen\nbev\u00f6lkert war; doch zeigten sie sich so scheu und schnellf\u00fc\u00dfig, da\u00df ich\nmich ihnen nicht auf Schu\u00dfweite n\u00e4hern konnte. Ich hatte beobachtet,\nda\u00df sie stets erschreckt davonliefen, wenn sie vom Berge herab mich im\nThale bemerkten; weideten sie jedoch im Thale und ich selbst stand auf\ndem Felsen, so nahmen sie keine Notiz von mir. Dies brachte mich auf\ndie Vermutung, da\u00df jene Tiere wohl leicht von oben herab, aber schwer\nvon unten nach oben sehen k\u00f6nnten. Um zu erfahren, ob meine Vermutung\nrichtig sei, stieg ich auf einen Berg, w\u00e4hrend unten die Herde graste.\nMit dem ersten Schu\u00df, den ich abfeuerte, erlegte ich eine Ziege, die\nein Junges bei sich hatte. Als ich mich dem get\u00f6teten Tiere n\u00e4herte,\num es aufzuheben, blieb jenes ganz harmlos stehen, ja es folgte mir\nfreiwillig in mein Zelt. Ich hoffte, das Junge aufziehen zu k\u00f6nnen;\ndoch da es keinerlei Futter annehmen wollte, so sah ich mich gen\u00f6tigt,\nes zu schlachten und zu verzehren. Durch diese beiden Tiere war ich auf\netliche Tage hinl\u00e4nglich mit gutem Fleisch versehen und sparte dadurch\nan meinem Vorrat, welchen ich vom Schiffe gerettet hatte.\n[Illustration: Robinson erlegt die erste Ziege.]\nEinige Zeit nach meiner Landung dachte ich daran, eine *Zeitrechnung*\naufzustellen, um in der Tag- und Monatsfolge nicht ganz irre zu werden\nund ebenso den Sonntag nicht mit den Werktagen zu verwechseln. Da\nich weder Papier, noch Tinte, noch Federn besa\u00df, verfiel ich auf die\nAbfassung einer Art Kalender.\nIch rammte einen viereckigen Pfahl in die Erde und befestigte an dessen\noberen Teil in Gestalt eines Kreuzes eine l\u00e4nglich viereckige Tafel;\nnach den Berechnungen, die ich anstellte, war ich am 30. *September*\n1659 an dieser Insel angelangt, die etwa 9\u00b0 22' n\u00f6rdlich vom \u00c4quator\ngelegen sein mu\u00dfte: deshalb schnitt ich auf die Tafel mit gro\u00dfen\nBuchstaben ein:\n     \u00bb_Hier landete Robinson Crusoe am 30. September 1659._\u00ab\nAn jedem neuen Tage machte ich an der Kante des Pfahles einen\nMessereinschnitt, deren siebenter, l\u00e4nger als die \u00fcbrigen, den Sonntag\nbezeichnete. Der erste Tag eines Monats wurde durch einen st\u00e4rkeren\ngr\u00f6\u00dferen Schnitt angemerkt. So ging es eine l\u00e4ngere Zeit fort, w\u00e4hrend\nwelcher ich emsig an der Vergr\u00f6\u00dferung meiner H\u00f6hle arbeitete, auch\neinen Tisch und einen Stuhl fertigte. Dabei kamen mir noch allerhand\nDinge zu statten, die ich nicht einzeln, sondern in K\u00e4sten und S\u00e4cken\nverpackt vom Wrack abgeholt hatte. So fand ich mehrere Kompasse,\nmathematische Instrumente, Ferngl\u00e4ser, Seekarten, deren N\u00fctzlichkeit\nmir in meiner damaligen Lage nur wenig einleuchtete. Was mich aber in\neine freudige Aufregung versetzte, war der Fund eines vollst\u00e4ndigen\nSchreibzeuges. Nun f\u00fchlte ich mich in meiner Ein\u00f6de nicht mehr so\nverlassen wie vorher, konnte ich doch dem Papiere alle meine Gedanken\nund Eindr\u00fccke anvertrauen. Also begann ich ein *Tagebuch* anzulegen und\nschrieb meine Lebensgeschichte seit dem 30. September nieder. Leider\nhatte ich in meinem Tagebuche gar bald ein Ereignis zu verzeichnen, das\nleicht ungl\u00fccklich f\u00fcr mich h\u00e4tte ablaufen k\u00f6nnen. Ich schrieb dar\u00fcber\ndie nachstehenden Zeilen nieder:\n  Am 10. *Dezember*. -- Ich hatte an der Vergr\u00f6\u00dferung meiner H\u00f6hle\n  gearbeitet, die Erdarbeiten waren gl\u00fccklich von statten gegangen,\n  meine Arbeit schien beinahe vollendet; da st\u00fcrzte pl\u00f6tzlich unter\n  furchtbarem Gekrach eine gewaltige Erdmasse von der Decke und von\n  einer Seite nieder. Jedenfalls hatte ich meine Minierarbeit zu weit\n  ausgedehnt und dadurch den Einsturz selbst veranla\u00dft. Ein Gl\u00fcck\n  war's, da\u00df ich mich in demselben Augenblicke nicht in der H\u00f6hle\n  befand, sonst w\u00e4re ich unzweifelhaft mein eigner Totengr\u00e4ber geworden.\nDie Wiederherstellungsarbeiten -- die Reinigung des Ganges, die\nUnterst\u00fctzung der Decke -- nahmen eine geraume Zeit in Anspruch.\n  Am 27. *Dezember*. -- Die Tage des Weihnachtsfestes verliefen sehr\n  traurig; es regnete unaufh\u00f6rlich, und so blieb ich in das Innere\n  meiner H\u00fctte gebannt. Da tauchten die trauten Bilder der Heimat\n  und der fr\u00f6hlichen Jugendzeit mit schmerzlicher Sehnsucht in mir\n  auf, und ich \u00fcberlie\u00df mich willenlos gaukelnden Tr\u00e4umen, die mich\n  hin\u00fcbertrugen weit \u00fcbers Meer an Englands K\u00fcste und in das Vaterhaus,\n  in welchem die Eltern gewi\u00df weinend des verschollenen Sohnes\n  gedachten. Meine Wehmut l\u00f6ste sich in ein inbr\u00fcnstiges Gebet auf zu\n  dem, der alles herrlich hinausf\u00fchrt; allm\u00e4hlich zog Trost ein in mein\n  banges Herz.\nAm zweiten Tage nach Weihnachten kl\u00e4rte sich das Wetter, und eine\nerfrischende Brise kr\u00e4uselte die Wogen des Meeres. Ich streifte in mein\nRevier hinaus und scho\u00df eine junge Ziege; eine andre verwundete ich\nnur, fing sie deshalb und f\u00fchrte sie in meine H\u00fctte. Dort verband ich\nihr den verwundeten Fu\u00df, legte ihr Schienen an und pflegte sie auf das\nsorgsamste. Unter meiner \u00e4rztlichen Behandlung gedieh das Tier ganz\nvortrefflich und wurde mit der Zeit so zahm, da\u00df es bei meiner Wohnung\nbehaglich graste, ohne davonzulaufen.\n[Illustration: Robinson im Gebet.]\nF\u00fcnftes Kapitel.\nRobinsons Tagebuch.\n  Neujahr. -- Sicherung der H\u00fctte. -- Wilde Tauben. -- Beleuchtung. --\n  Getreide\u00e4hren. -- Erdbeben. -- Schleifstein. -- Ein F\u00e4\u00dfchen Pulver.\n  -- Zertr\u00fcmmerung des Wracks. -- Fischjagd. -- Schildkr\u00f6ten. --\n  Krankheit. -- N\u00e4chtlicher Traum. -- Fieber. -- Reuige Betrachtungen.\n  -- Wiederherstellung durch Tabak. -- Bibelfund. -- Pflanzen und\n  Fr\u00fcchte im Innern der Insel. -- Bau eines Landhauses. -- Die Katze\n  und ihre Jungen. -- Jahrestag der Landung. -- Ernteerfolge.\nZum neuen Jahre, am 1. Januar 1660, begl\u00fcckw\u00fcnschte ich mich selbst. Es\nist freilich ein Neujahr auf einer \u00f6den Insel, und ich verlassen von\nallen menschlichen Wesen! Doch nicht verzagt, Robinson! Mutig in die\nZukunft geblickt!\nIch hing meine Flinte \u00fcber die Schulter und wanderte nach dem Innern\nder Insel. Die Hitze war gewaltig, denn bekanntlich ist im Januar\nunter den Tropen ebenfalls hei\u00dfe Jahreszeit; so sah ich mich gen\u00f6tigt,\nwiederholt unter dem Schattendache belaubter B\u00e4ume auszuruhen. Den\nganzen Tag wanderte ich umher. Allm\u00e4hlich nahte der Abend heran,\nnachdem ich mehrere liebliche Th\u00e4ler durchschritten hatte, die sich\nnach dem Herzen des Eilandes verliefen. Hier sah ich an verschiedenen\nPl\u00e4tzen zahlreiche Herden von Ziegen weiden; aber so oft ich auch\nversuchte, mich diesen Tieren zu n\u00e4hern, immer wu\u00dften sie mit schlauer\nList zu entrinnen. Deshalb beschlo\u00df ich am andern Tage, meinen Hund\nmitzunehmen und ihn auf die Ziegen zu hetzen, um wom\u00f6glich mehrere\nlebendig in meine Gewalt zu bekommen und sie wie Hausvieh an mich zu\ngew\u00f6hnen. Ich hatte indes die Rechnung ohne den Wirt gemacht; denn als\nich am n\u00e4chsten Tage meinen Phylax auf eine Herde loslie\u00df, kehrten\nsich die Tiere pl\u00f6tzlich gegen den Hund um, dieser aber versp\u00fcrte\nkeine absonderliche Lust, mit den h\u00f6rnernen Waffen der Langb\u00e4rte\nBekanntschaft zu machen. Er schmiegte sich furchtsam an mich, und so\nlie\u00df ich die Sache einstweilen ruhen.\nBis gegen die Mitte des Monats April besch\u00e4ftigten mich die Arbeiten\nf\u00fcr eine bessere Umz\u00e4unung meiner Burg; w\u00e4hrend dieser Zeit hatte\nmich der Regen oftmals gezwungen, mehrere Tage hintereinander mit\nmeinen Befestigungsk\u00fcnsten einzuhalten. Da\u00df mir die Herrichtung jedes\neinzelnen Pfostens gro\u00dfe Schwierigkeiten verursachte, kann man sich\nwohl denken, zumal die Pf\u00e4hle weit aus dem Innern der Insel zu holen\nwaren und die Einrammung meine Kr\u00e4fte stark in Anspruch nahm.\nEinst traf ich eine Art *wilder Tauben*, welche nicht wie die andern\nHolztauben ihre Nester auf B\u00e4umen bauen, sondern nach Art der\nErdschwalben in den Ritzen des Gesteins nisten. Ich nahm einige der\nJungen aus und f\u00fctterte sie gro\u00df; als ihnen jedoch sp\u00e4ter mit den\nwachsenden Fl\u00fcgeln der Mut gewachsen war, flogen sie davon, ihren alten\nHeimatssitzen zu.\nObwohl ich viele Dinge besa\u00df, die mir in meiner Einsamkeit trefflich zu\nstatten kamen, so empfand ich doch nicht selten aufs schmerzlichste den\nMangel an *Beleuchtung*. Ein guter Gedanke leitete mich auf das Fett\nder Ziegen, welches ich bisher nur verspeiste. Ich sammelte das Fett\nin ein irdenes, an der Sonne getrocknetes Gef\u00e4\u00df und verfertigte mittels\neines von Kabelgarn bereiteten Dochtes mir eine Art Kerzen.\n[Illustration: Robinson und seine Ziege.]\nW\u00e4hrend dieser Zeit hatte ich eine freudige \u00dcberraschung eigent\u00fcmlicher\nArt. Wenige Schritte von meiner Festung bemerkte ich zehn oder zw\u00f6lf\n\u00c4hren Gerste und au\u00dfer diesen etliche Weizen- und Reishalme. Wie\nmochten jene Getreidearten nach diesem Eiland und in dieses Klima\ngekommen sein? Unwillk\u00fcrlich kam ich auf den Gedanken, da\u00df die\nVorsehung Gottes hier ein Wunder zugelassen habe. Endlich erinnerte ich\nmich, da\u00df ich w\u00e4hrend der Regenzeit an dieser Stelle jenes S\u00e4ckchen\nausgesch\u00fcttet hatte, in welchem sich noch einige k\u00fcmmerliche Reste der\ndurch die Ratten benagten Gersten-, Weizen- und Reisk\u00f6rner befanden.\nJenes S\u00e4ckchen hatte ich mittlerweile zum Pulverbeutel benutzt.\nMit dieser nat\u00fcrlichen Erkl\u00e4rung des Wunders regte sich bei mir erst\nrecht das Gef\u00fchl der Dankbarkeit gegen Gott. Hatte ich doch alle\nUrsache, die Erhaltung dieser wenigen K\u00f6rner als ein besonderes Zeichen\nseiner G\u00fcte anzusehen.\nDie Umhegung meiner H\u00fctte war um Mitte April nun vollendet, und ich\nglaubte mich jetzt f\u00fcr hinreichend gesch\u00fctzt halten zu k\u00f6nnen. Aber\nschon am n\u00e4chsten Tage h\u00e4tte nicht viel gefehlt, und es w\u00e4ren fast alle\nmeine Arbeiten, die Frucht so langer Zeit und so vieler M\u00fchen, zerst\u00f6rt\nworden.\nIch war gerade hinter meinem Zelte mit einer Arbeit besch\u00e4ftigt, als\npl\u00f6tzlich der Boden anfing zu erzittern. Von der Decke der H\u00f6hle\nfiel Schutt nieder, die St\u00fctzen der Mauern wankten und st\u00fcrzten mit\nf\u00fcrchterlichem Gekrach zusammen. Aus Furcht, unter den Tr\u00fcmmern\nbegraben zu werden, legte ich eiligst die Leiter an und sprang \u00fcber die\nPalissaden hin\u00fcber. Kaum hatte ich den Erdboden erreicht, so sah ich,\nwie eine ziemliche Strecke von mir entfernt ein m\u00e4chtiger Felsblock\nsich von einem der Berge abl\u00f6ste und mit donner\u00e4hnlichem Get\u00f6se in die\nwildbrandenden Wogen hinabrollte. Noch nie hatte ich ein so heftiges\nErdbeben erlebt; meiner Sinne nicht m\u00e4chtig, war ich unter einem Baume\nniedergesunken und unwillk\u00fcrlich rief ich: \u00bbHerr Gott, erbarme dich\nmeiner!\u00ab\nZwar fa\u00dfte ich wieder etwas Mut, aber die Luft wurde immer schwerer,\nder Himmel umzog sich mit dichten Regenwolken, und es erhob sich ein\nWind, der bald zum schrecklichen Orkan anwuchs. Die See kochte, der\nSchaum kr\u00e4uselte sich in wildem Tanze auf ihrer Oberfl\u00e4che, und die\nFluten st\u00fcrzten brausend an die Ufer. Nach drei Stunden lie\u00df das Toben\nnach, und ein heftiger Regen str\u00f6mte hernieder. Jetzt erst fiel mir\nein, da\u00df Wind und Regen die Folgen des Erdbebens seien und da\u00df sie\ndas Ende desselben anzeigen k\u00f6nnten. Durch diesen Gedanken ermutigt,\nkehrte ich nach meinem Zelte zur\u00fcck und fl\u00fcchtete ganz durchn\u00e4\u00dft in die\nH\u00f6hle, obwohl ich noch immer bef\u00fcrchtete, es m\u00f6chte die Decke \u00fcber mir\nzusammenbrechen.\nDer Regen w\u00e4hrte die ganze Nacht und den gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil des folgenden\nTages, was mich am Ausgehen verhinderte. Es dr\u00e4ngte sich mir der\nGedanke auf, da\u00df ich mich durchaus nach einer andern Wohnung umsehen\nm\u00fc\u00dfte; denn wie leicht konnte mich die Wiederholung eines Erdbebens\nlebendig unter den Tr\u00fcmmern meiner H\u00f6hle begraben! Da ich aber sah,\nwie alles um mich her sich in sch\u00f6nster Ordnung befand, wie ich\neigentlich sicher und bequem wohnte, und als ich an die uns\u00e4gliche\nM\u00fche dachte, welche mir die Einrichtung meines kleinen Festungswerkes\nverursacht hatte, so konnte ich mich nur schwer dazu entschlie\u00dfen,\nmeinen jetzigen Aufenthalt zu \u00e4ndern. Ich zog es daher vor, einstweilen\nnoch in meiner alten Wohnung zu bleiben, bis ich eine neue errichtet\nh\u00e4tte, und begn\u00fcgte mich damit, vor der Hand den herabgefallenen Schutt\nherauszuschaffen.\nVor der Ausf\u00fchrung meiner Pl\u00e4ne pr\u00fcfte ich meine drei starken \u00c4xte\nsowie mehrere kleine Beile. Diese waren durch das F\u00e4llen und Behauen\ndes harten Palissadenholzes so schartig und unbrauchbar geworden, da\u00df\nich sie in solchem Zustande nicht mehr benutzen konnte. Da blitzte\nein Gedanke in mir auf: ich besa\u00df ja einen Schleifsein. Aber wie ihn\ndrehen? Nach langem Sinnen gl\u00fcckte es mir, eine Trittvorrichtung\nzu vollenden, welche ich mit dem Fu\u00dfe in Bewegung setzen konnte,\nw\u00e4hrend mir beide H\u00e4nde frei blieben. Und nun wurde ich der eifrigste\nSchleifer, der nur jemals gefunden werden kann.\nAls ich einige Tage darauf, am Morgen des ersten Maitages, bei\nniederem Wasserstande nach dem Meere hinausschaute, gewahrte ich\neinen Gegenstand, der wie ein F\u00e4\u00dfchen aussah und sich als eine kleine\nTonne nebst einigen Tr\u00fcmmern unsres Schiffes erwies, dessen Lage sich\ndurch den letzten Sturm ver\u00e4ndert hatte, denn sein Rumpf ragte h\u00f6her\naus dem Wasser hervor. Das Vorderteil steckte nicht mehr im Sande,\nsondern stand zwei Meter \u00fcber der Wasserfl\u00e4che empor. Das Kastell, von\ndem \u00fcbrigen Teile losgerissen, lag auf der Seite, und Berge von Sand\nhatten sich um das Schiff herum aufgeh\u00e4uft, so da\u00df ich jetzt zur Zeit\nder Ebbe trockenen Fu\u00dfes zu dem Wrack gelangen konnte. Ich begriff\nsehr bald, da\u00df diese Ver\u00e4nderung durch das Erdbeben veranla\u00dft war. Die\nGewalt desselben hatte ohne Zweifel das Schiff noch mehr zertr\u00fcmmert,\ndenn t\u00e4glich sp\u00fclte die Flut abgel\u00f6ste St\u00fccke ans Land. Ich w\u00e4lzte die\ngefundene Tonne weiter an das Ufer und fand nach Er\u00f6ffnung derselben,\nda\u00df sie Pulver enthielt.\nAm 3. Mai ging ich mit einer S\u00e4ge an das Wrack und durchschnitt einen\nBalken, der augenscheinlich einen Teil des Oberdecks trug. Hierauf\nr\u00e4umte ich, so gut es ging, den Sand fort, sah mich aber gen\u00f6tigt,\ndie Arbeit einzustellen, da die Flut zu steigen begann. Den n\u00e4chsten\nTag versuchte ich zu angeln. Zwar hatte ich keinen Angelhaken, nahm\naber ein St\u00fcck gekr\u00fcmmten Eisendraht an einer langen, aus aufgedrehten\nTauen gemachten Schnur; ich fing auch eine Menge Fische, unter andern\neinen jungen Delphin. Sp\u00e4ter wiederholte ich diese Fischjagden \u00f6fters,\ntrocknete meistens die gefangene Beute und a\u00df sie ged\u00f6rrt.\nFast t\u00e4glich arbeitete ich nun auf dem Wrack, brach Bretter los, schlug\neiserne Bolzen und andre St\u00fccke von demselben Metall heraus und fand\nauch neben mancherlei andern verwendbaren Dingen eine Rolle Blei,\nvon welcher ich kleine St\u00fccke abschlug, um diese einzeln in meinen\nGewahrsam zu schaffen.\nW\u00e4hrend der ganzen Nacht des 16. Mai blies der Wind so heftig, da\u00df\ndie Reste des gestrandeten Schiffes fast ganz zertr\u00fcmmert wurden. Die\nFlut trieb Kisten, Zimmermannsholz und Deckplanken an das Ufer, und\nder Holzvorrat, welchen ich am Lande aufgestapelt hatte, war zu einem\nsolch ansehnlichen Haufen angewachsen, da\u00df ich davon eine Barke h\u00e4tte\nerbauen k\u00f6nnen, wenn ich nur einen Begriff von Schiffbaukunst gehabt\nh\u00e4tte. Auch ein Fa\u00df mit Schweinefleisch kam ans Land geschwommen; ich\nh\u00e4tte dasselbe gern gegessen, mu\u00dfte jedoch auf den Genu\u00df verzichten,\nweil es durch das eingedrungene Seewasser g\u00e4nzlich ungenie\u00dfbar geworden\nwar.\nAls ich eines Morgens im Monat Juni fr\u00fch am Ufer des Meeres entlang\nging, sah ich eine gro\u00dfe *Schildkr\u00f6te*, die erste, welche ich fand.\nIch t\u00f6tete und zerlegte sie, und ihr Fleisch, das ich kochte, schien\nmir das angenehmste und saftigste zu sein, das ich je gegessen. Hatte\nich mich doch seit meiner Ankunft auf der Insel auf das Fleisch wilder\nZiegen und V\u00f6gel beschr\u00e4nken m\u00fcssen!\nBald darauf, in den letzten Tagen des Juni, kam eine schwere Pr\u00fcfung\n\u00fcber mich. Ich f\u00fchlte starkes Fr\u00f6steln und brachte die N\u00e4chte zum Teil\nschlaflos zu. Hierzu gesellten sich heftige Kopfschmerzen. Das *Fieber*\nmit abwechselndem Frost und Schwei\u00df hatte mich gepackt, so da\u00df ich\nleider den ganzen Tag \u00fcber, ohne Speise und Trank zu genie\u00dfen, an mein\nLager gefesselt war. Mich qu\u00e4lte uns\u00e4glicher Durst, doch hatte ich\nnicht Kraft genug, um mir Wasser zu holen. Nach langer Zeit richtete\nich wieder einmal meine Gedanken auf Gott, alle meine Sinne waren so\neingenommen, da\u00df ich nichts weiter ausrief als: \u00bbO Gott, sieh gn\u00e4dig\nauf meine Not, erbarme dich meiner!\u00ab Endlich schlief ich vor Ermattung\nein. Erst sp\u00e4t in der Nacht erwachte ich und f\u00fchlte mich um vieles\nbesser, nur wurde ich durch heftigen Durst gequ\u00e4lt. Da ich indes keinen\nTropfen Wasser in meiner Wohnung hatte, so mu\u00dfte ich auf dieses Labsal\nverzichten und schlief endlich wieder ein.\nW\u00e4hrend dieses zweiten Schlafes hatte ich einen f\u00fcrchterlichen Traum.\nMir war es, als s\u00e4\u00dfe ich au\u00dferhalb der Umz\u00e4unung auf dem Boden an der\nStelle, wo ich dem Ausgange des Erdbebens entgegensah. Da stieg aus\neiner gro\u00dfen grauschwarzen Wolke ein Riese herunter, den leuchtende,\nmich brennende Flammen umgaben. Lange schl\u00e4ngelnde Blitze durchzuckten\ndie Luft, und als seine F\u00fc\u00dfe den Erdboden ber\u00fchrten, erbebte die Erde\nin ihren innersten Grundfesten. Er schwang einen langen Speer, den er\nin der Hand trug, gegen mich und sprach mit drohender Donnerstimme:\n\u00bbDa so viele Warnungen dich nicht zur Reue erweckt haben, so stirb\njetzt, Elender, von meiner Lanze durchbohrt!\u00ab\n[Illustration: Robinson, von Reue erf\u00fcllt.]\nBei diesen Worten schreckte ich aus meinem Traume auf, und noch lange\nZeit nach meinem Erwachen konnte ich mich kaum \u00fcberzeugen, da\u00df alles\nnur ein Traum gewesen sei.\nLeider hatten die Worte dieser n\u00e4chtlichen Erscheinung nur Wahrheit\nausgesprochen, denn ich war ein gef\u00fchlloser Mensch, der eigentlich\ngar keine Gottesfurcht empfand. Die guten Lehren meines Vaters waren\nl\u00e4ngst w\u00e4hrend der acht Jahre vergessen, in denen ich fast nur mit\ngottlosen Leuten verkehrt hatte. Niemals hatte ich daran gedacht,\ndas Mi\u00dfgeschick, das mich in so vielfachen Gestalten traf, als eine\ngerechte Strafe des Himmels anzusehen. Solange ich in Afrika als\nGefangener lebte, hatte ich mich kaum ein einziges Mal an Gott um\nBeistand gewendet, auch dann nicht, als ich mit Xury den gefahrvollen\nFluchtversuch ausf\u00fchrte. Als ich hierauf von dem portugiesischen\nKapit\u00e4n aufgenommen ward, regte sich kein Gef\u00fchl der Dankbarkeit f\u00fcr\neine so wunderbare Rettung. Ja, als ich sp\u00e4ter nackt und hilflos auf\ndieses Eiland geworfen wurde, f\u00fchlte ich nicht einmal Reue \u00fcber die\nVerh\u00e4rtung meines Gewissens, sondern hatte nur Klagen dar\u00fcber, da\u00df ich\nzu nichts als zum Ungl\u00fcck auf der Erde bestimmt sei.\nZwar regten sich damals, als ich mich gerettet aus Sturmesfluten und\nwohlbehalten auf der Insel wiederfand, Gef\u00fchle in mir, die einem Danke\nf\u00fcr Gottes G\u00fcte gleichen mochten; allein sie endeten nur als \u00c4u\u00dferungen\nder Freude, Gef\u00fchle des wechselnden Augenblicks. Ich dachte nur daran,\nmich gegen den Hunger zu sch\u00fctzen, und trug lediglich Sorge f\u00fcr meinen\nUnterhalt und um meine Verteidigung.\nNur vor\u00fcbergehend hatte die Entdeckung des aufsprossenden Getreides\nmein Gem\u00fct dankbar gestimmt; ebenso vor\u00fcbergehend nur war ich durch die\nFurchtbarkeit des Erdbebens an Gottes Allmacht gemahnt worden. Erst die\nHeftigkeit des Fiebers, die ganze Hilflosigkeit meiner Lage pre\u00dften\nmir Thr\u00e4nen aus und riefen die Stimme meines Gewissens wach. \u00bbJetzt\u00ab,\nsagte ich mir, \u00bbjetzt ist die Prophezeiung deines Vaters in Erf\u00fcllung\ngegangen; niemand ist um mich, der mir Trost und Beistand gew\u00e4hren\nk\u00f6nnte. O meine guten Eltern, h\u00e4tte ich doch eure Ermahnungen beachtet\nund der Heimat nicht lebewohl gesagt. O Gott, bei dem da ist alle Kraft\nund alle Barmherzigkeit, verla\u00df mich nicht, denn mein Elend ist gro\u00df!\u00ab\nSo betete ich nach langer Zeit inbr\u00fcnstig zum erstenmal. Nachher lie\u00df\nder Fieberanfall nach, obgleich der Traum der vergangenen Nacht noch\nlange einen gro\u00dfen Schreck in mir zur\u00fccklie\u00df.\nEin Viertelst\u00fcndchen der Erholung benutzte ich dazu, um eine Flasche\nmit Wasser sowie etwas Rum vor mein Lager zu stellen; auch r\u00f6stete ich\nauf Kohlen ein St\u00fcck Ziegenfleisch, doch wollte es mir noch nicht recht\nmunden.\nHierauf unternahm ich einen Spaziergang ins Freie, konnte aber wegen\nErmattung nur eine kleine Strecke zur\u00fccklegen. Auf einem Felsenst\u00fcck\nlie\u00df ich mich nieder, von welchem das Auge weit \u00fcber den jetzt ruhigen\nSpiegel des Meeres schweifen konnte. Da tauchten Gedanken in mir auf:\n\u00bbWer ist es, der alle diese Dinge, Meer, Himmel und Erde, geschaffen\nhat? Und wer erh\u00e4lt und lenkt sie unwandelbar? Ist es nicht Gott, der\nalles wei\u00df und sieht? Ja, er sieht auch mich. Durch seinen Willen, ohne\nden nichts geschieht, lebe ich auf diesem Eiland; ich ergebe mich in\nseine F\u00fcgung, der Herr wird es wohl machen!\u00ab\nDiese Betrachtungen fl\u00f6\u00dften mir Trost ein, und ich kehrte nachdenkend\nin meine Wohnst\u00e4tte zur\u00fcck. Noch vor derselben fiel mein Blick auf\ndie von der Sonne goldig gebr\u00e4unten \u00c4hren, welche jetzt harte K\u00f6rner\ntrugen. Ich pfl\u00fcckte die Stengel, nahm sorgf\u00e4ltig die Frucht aus den\nRispen und bewahrte sie f\u00fcr die kommende S\u00e4ezeit auf.\nDieser Ausgang hatte mich mehr angegriffen als ich gedacht, und es\n\u00fcberkam mich die Furcht, aufs neue vom Fieber gesch\u00fcttelt zu werden.\nDa fiel mir ein, da\u00df die Brasilianer fast alle ihre Krankheiten mit\n*Tabak* kurieren. Sofort ging ich nach dem Keller, wo ich einen\nziemlichen Vorrat in einer Kiste aufbewahrte. Gott selbst mu\u00dfte mir\ndiesen Gedanken eingegeben haben; denn neben dem Tabak fand ich auch\njene drei Bibeln, die mir von England nach Brasilien geschickt waren.\nWelch ein kostbarer Fund!\nWie aber sollte ich den Tabak gebrauchen? Ich wu\u00dfte es nicht und\nversuchte es daher auf verschiedene Weise. Zuerst kaute ich ein\nSt\u00fcckchen von dem Blatte; dann lie\u00df ich ein andres zwei Stunden\nlang in Rum liegen, um davon zu trinken, und als dritte Heilmethode\nverbrannte ich ein Blatt auf Kohlen und hielt die Nase dar\u00fcber, um\nden bei\u00dfenden Dampf in vollen Z\u00fcgen einzuatmen. Die Pausen, welche\nzwischen diesen drei Bereitungen lagen, suchte ich durch Lesen in der\nBibel auszuf\u00fcllen; allein die Bet\u00e4ubung durch meine etwas sonderbare\nMedizin lie\u00df mich nur eine Stelle erkennen, auf welche meine Augen\nzuerst gefallen waren: \u00bbRufe mich an in der Not, so will ich dich\nerretten, und du sollst mich preisen!\u00ab Diese Worte, so ganz auf meine\ngegenw\u00e4rtige Lage passend, machten einen \u00fcberw\u00e4ltigenden Eindruck auf\nmich. O wie sehnte ich mich jetzt nach der Heimat zur\u00fcck, aber lange,\nlange Jahre sollten noch vergehen, ehe sich dieser Wunsch verwirklichte.\nDer Genu\u00df des durch Tabak gebeizten Rums versetzte mich in einen\nZustand ungew\u00f6hnlicher Bet\u00e4ubung; ich verfiel bald in einen so tiefen\nSchlaf, da\u00df ich erst am andern Tage nachmittags erwachte. Ja, ich mu\u00dfte\nsogar glauben, da\u00df ich noch einen ganzen Tag verschlafen habe, denn es\nfehlte mir in der Folge ein voller Tag in meiner Zeitrechnung. Indessen\nf\u00fchlte ich mich merklich wohler, und es stellte sich auch wieder ein\nt\u00fcchtiger Hunger ein. Ich bereitete mir daher eine kr\u00e4ftige Suppe von\nsaftreichem Schildkr\u00f6tenfleisch und genas von dieser Zeit an t\u00e4glich\nmehr, obgleich ich am 2. Juli noch einmal zu meiner Arznei, einer Dosis\nTabak, greifen mu\u00dfte.\nSo fand ich denn auf seltsame Weise die erw\u00fcnschte Besserung -- durch\nein Mittel, f\u00fcr dessen ganz unfehlbare Heilkraft ich nicht immer\neinstehen m\u00f6chte. Obwohl ich noch schwach und abgemagert war, so\nvers\u00e4umte ich doch nicht, mit meinem stets geladenen Gewehr kleine\nAusfl\u00fcge in mein \u00bbK\u00f6nigreich\u00ab zu unternehmen. Einmal stie\u00df ich hierbei\nauf herrlich gr\u00fcne Wiesengr\u00fcnde, die ich vorher noch nicht bemerkt\nhatte. Ich fand daselbst Tabakspflanzen mit langen, starken Stengeln,\neine Gattung Aloe und Zuckerrohr. Hernach kam ich in einen waldigen\nGrund, wo ich mancherlei e\u00dfbare Fr\u00fcchte traf, namentlich saftige\nMelonen am Boden liegend, und eine Art wildwachsender Weintrauben,\nwelche in vollster Reife aus Rebenlaub hervorschauten, das sich von\nBaum zu Baum \u00fcppig weiterrankte. Diese Trauben sammelte ich, um sie an\nder Sonne zu trocknen; denn ich mochte die Frucht nicht in frischem\nZustande genie\u00dfen, da ich mich erinnerte, da\u00df mehrere englische\nSklaven, die zu viel davon genossen hatten, w\u00e4hrend meines Aufenthalts\nin der Berberei an der Brechruhr gestorben waren.\nMeine Entdeckungsreise hatte mich so sehr in Anspruch genommen, da\u00df\nmich der Abend \u00fcberraschte, ehe ich es gemerkt hatte. Auch f\u00fchlte ich\nmich zu abgespannt, um wieder nach meiner Burg zur\u00fcckkehren zu k\u00f6nnen.\nSo schlief ich zum erstenmal au\u00dferhalb meiner Wohnung. Wie am Tage\nmeiner Landung auf der Insel, kletterte ich auch heute auf einen Baum\nund brachte hier die Nacht unversehrt zu. Am andern Morgen setzte ich\nmeinen Weg weiter fort und behielt immer die Richtung nach Norden im\nAuge, da meine Aussicht zu beiden Seiten durch einige H\u00fcgelreihen\nbegrenzt war.\nAm Ende meines Marsches breitete sich ein offenes Gefilde aus, das\nvon einem nach Osten verlaufenden Bache durchschl\u00e4ngelt wurde. Eine\nreizende Gegend in gr\u00fcnem Wiesenschmuck, gleich einem Teppich von\ntausend und abertausend bunten Blumensternen durchwirkt. Palmen\nstreckten ihre Kronen empor; Orangen-, Zitronen- und Limonenb\u00e4ume luden\nmich ein, ihre Fr\u00fcchte zu pfl\u00fccken. Schwer beladen mit k\u00f6stlichen\nFr\u00fcchten schied ich von dem paradiesischen Garten, um meiner l\u00e4nger als\nsonst verlassenen H\u00fctte zuzueilen.\nAls ich in meinem \u00bbHause\u00ab ankam, fand ich die Trauben verdorben und\ndie Beeren zerquetscht, w\u00e4hrend die Zitronen, deren ich \u00fcberhaupt nur\nwenige gefunden hatte, vortrefflich erhalten waren.\nJenes Thal mit seinem reichen Pflanzenwuchs zog mich so sehr an, da\u00df\nin mir der Gedanke aufstieg, meine Wohnung dorthin zu verlegen; allein\ndie Erw\u00e4gung, da\u00df ich von meinem Hause am Strande die offene Aussicht\n\u00fcber das Meer hatte und so ein vielleicht hier vorbeisegelndes Fahrzeug\nersp\u00e4hen k\u00f6nnte, brachte mich von dem schnell gefa\u00dften Plane ab, und\nich beschr\u00e4nkte mich darauf, eine Art Lusthaus in jenem gesegneten und\nreizvollen Thale zu errichten. Ohne Zeit zu verlieren, ging ich ans\nWerk und umgab meine zweite Wohnst\u00e4tte mit einer doppelten Pfahlreihe,\ndie ich noch durch ein Flechtwerk von Schlingpflanzen und Baumst\u00e4mmen\nverst\u00e4rkte. Diese Arbeiten besch\u00e4ftigten mich bis Anfang August.\nUnterdessen fand ich meine aufgeh\u00e4ngten Weintrauben nun genug\ngetrocknet, und ich beeilte mich, sie einzusammeln, denn schon k\u00fcndigte\nsich die in der hei\u00dfen Zone \u00fcbliche Regenzeit auf f\u00fchlbare Weise an.\nZweihundert P\u00e4ckchen von Rosinen schaffte ich in meine Vorratskammer,\nund so konnte ich mir nun die folgenden Monate hinreichend vers\u00fc\u00dfen.\nAm 14. *August* erlebte ich die Freude einer Vermehrung meiner\nFamilie. Meine Katze n\u00e4mlich, die ich vom Wrack mitgenommen hatte, war\neine Zeitlang verschwunden, ohne da\u00df ich mir erkl\u00e4ren konnte, wohin\nsie geraten sei. W\u00e4hrend ich nun an jenem Tage \u00fcber die Landschaft\nschaute, sah ich meine alte Freundin samt drei jungen Spr\u00f6\u00dflingen\nwohlgemut auf meine H\u00fctte zukommen und z\u00f6gerte nicht, die neuen G\u00e4ste\nfreundlichst aufzunehmen. Sie hatte die Jungen in einem Versteck so\nweit gro\u00df gezogen, da\u00df sie vor den Angriffen des Katers sicher waren,\nund f\u00fchrte sie mir jetzt zu. Mit diesem Tage begann auch die Regenzeit,\nund ich machte mich wieder darauf gefa\u00dft, wochenlang in meinem\nwohlgesch\u00fctzten Strandhause zubringen zu m\u00fcssen. Vom 14. bis 29. August\nw\u00e4hrte ununterbrochen der Regen; meine Nahrung bestand aus Rosinen,\nZiegenfleisch und ger\u00f6steter Schildkr\u00f6te. Dabei war ich t\u00e4glich\nbesch\u00e4ftigt mit der Erweiterung meines Kellers.\nGegen Ende September erinnerten mich die Einschnitte, die ich in meinen\nh\u00f6lzernen Kalender gemacht hatte, da\u00df seit meiner Landung auf der Insel\nein Jahr verflossen war. Ich feierte diesen Tag mit dankerf\u00fclltem\nHerzen gegen Gott, dessen G\u00fcte mich so wunderbar beschirmt hatte.\n[Illustration: Robinson vor seinem Kalender.]\nSechstes Kapitel.\nRobinson als Handwerker und Ackersmann.\n  Robinson s\u00e4et Getreide. -- Korbflechterei. -- T\u00f6pferarbeiten. --\n  Weitere Entdeckungsreisen auf der Insel. -- Tierreicher K\u00fcstenstrich.\n  -- Robinson bringt einen Papagei sowie eine Ziege nach Hause. --\n  Tr\u00f6stliche Gedanken \u00fcber Sonst und Jetzt. -- Tageseinteilung. --\n  Verheerung des Getreidefeldes. -- Exekution an den Kornpl\u00fcnderern. --\n  Kleine Ernte.\nMit Anfang November lie\u00df der Regen nach, und es lockte mich an dem\nersten sch\u00f6nen Tage nach dem Innern der Insel zu meinem Lusthause. Hier\nfand ich noch alles so unversehrt, wie ich es wenige Monate vorher\nverlassen hatte. Die Hecke, welche ich um meine Villa gezogen, war\nwohl erhalten, nur der \u00bblebendige\u00ab Zaun war mit einem W\u00e4ldchen gr\u00fcner\nfrischer Reiser geschm\u00fcckt, die in wilder Unordnung sich ineinander\nschlangen. Diese verschnitt ich und suchte in das ganze Gewirr einige\nOrdnung zu bringen. In der That versprach die Fenz schon nach wenigen\nJahren ein dichtes und schattiges Laubdach zu bilden. Eine gleiche\ngr\u00fcne Mauer zog ich auch um mein festeres Haus am Strande, und die\nFolgezeit lehrte, welchen Vorteil mir diese Pflanzung bei Verteidigung\nmeiner Stammburg brachte.\nDa mein ohnehin kleiner Vorrat von Tinte durch die t\u00e4gliche und\numst\u00e4ndliche Aufzeichnung der gew\u00f6hnlichen Begebenheiten und\nBesch\u00e4ftigungen sehr auf die Neige ging, so mu\u00dfte ich ernstlich auf\nm\u00f6glichste Beschr\u00e4nkung meiner Schreibseligkeit Bedacht nehmen, und nur\ndie merkw\u00fcrdigsten Ereignisse wurden fortan noch aufgezeichnet.\nSchon fr\u00fcher erw\u00e4hnte ich der mir unerwartet zugekommenen\nGetreidehalme. Ich glaubte nun gut zu thun, wenn ich die gewonnenen\nK\u00f6rner nach der Regenzeit s\u00e4ete. Deshalb grub ich ein St\u00fcck Land, so\nschwer es mir auch wurde, mit einem h\u00f6lzernen Spaten um, teilte es in\nzwei H\u00e4lften und \u00fcbergab die K\u00f6rner der ern\u00e4hrenden Mutter Erde; den\ndritten Teil derselben behielt ich indes aus Vorsorge zur\u00fcck, falls\nich die Jahreszeit nicht richtig gew\u00e4hlt haben sollte. Der folgende\nMonat war ein au\u00dferordentlich trockener und lie\u00df meine Saat kaum zum\nAufkeimen kommen; ja, ich mu\u00dfte ganz auf eine Ernte verzichten, da\nsich die Keime vor der wiederkehrenden Regenzeit nicht bis zur Reife\nentwickeln konnten. Ich suchte nun einen feuchteren Boden auf, grub\nihn um und s\u00e4ete den zur\u00fcckbehaltenen Rest der K\u00f6rner im Februar, kurz\nvor dem Eintritt der nassen Jahreszeit. Die regnerischen Monate M\u00e4rz\nund April waren meiner Pflanzung, auf die ich meine letzten Hoffnungen\ngegr\u00fcndet hatte, so g\u00fcnstig, da\u00df ich etwa ein Liter von jeder Gattung\nerntete.\nDie Jahreszeiten wechselten unter dem Himmel meiner Insel nicht mit so\nangenehmen \u00dcberg\u00e4ngen wie in der Heimat, sondern sie schieden sich nur\nin zwei Perioden, in eine trockene und eine nasse: von Mitte Februar\nbis Mitte April Regen, von Mitte April bis Mitte August trockene Zeit;\nvon Mitte August bis Mitte Oktober Regen, von Mitte Oktober bis Mitte\nFebruar Trockenheit.\nDie gezwungene Zur\u00fcckgezogenheit in den Regenmonaten benutzte ich\nzu allerhand n\u00fctzlichen Besch\u00e4ftigungen. So versuchte ich unter\nanderm auch, einen Korb zu flechten, und wurde in dieser Arbeit durch\nErinnerungen aus fr\u00fchester Kindheit unterst\u00fctzt. Wie h\u00e4tte ich vorher\nahnen k\u00f6nnen, da\u00df die Besuche bei unserm Nachbar Korbflechter, in\ndessen Werkstatt ich ein t\u00e4glicher Gast gewesen, mir sp\u00e4ter n\u00fctzlich\nsein w\u00fcrden? Die ersten Zweige, mit denen ich meine Arbeit beginnen\nwollte, zeigten sich freilich recht spr\u00f6de. Meine Blicke lenkten sich\nunwillk\u00fcrlich auf die jungen Stecklinge um die H\u00fctte; diese versprachen\nbesseres Flechtmaterial. Ich fand sie wirklich so geschmeidig wie\nWeidenruten, und es ward meinen K\u00fcnstlerh\u00e4nden nicht schwer, die\nverschiedensten K\u00f6rbe zu mannigfachen Zwecken herzustellen.\nMeine h\u00e4uslichen Verh\u00e4ltnisse hatten sich immer behaglicher\ngestaltet, nur noch ein einziges Ger\u00e4t vermi\u00dfte ich schmerzlich: ein\nKochgeschirr. Zwar besa\u00df ich einen Kessel; allein dieser war von so\nbedeutender Gr\u00f6\u00dfe, da\u00df ich darin weder ein kleines St\u00fcck Fleisch\nkochen, noch weniger mir Fleischbr\u00fche bereiten konnte. Wie lie\u00df\nsich diesem \u00dcbelstand abhelfen? Ich dachte so: wenn es mir gel\u00e4nge,\nThonerde zu finden, so k\u00f6nnte wohl die Glut der tropischen Sonne\nmeine T\u00f6pferarbeiten trocknen. Ach! -- meine T\u00f6pferarbeiten! Ich\nwill hier nicht erz\u00e4hlen, wie viel ungeschickte Versuche ich machte,\nwelche ungeheuerlichen Formen sich die Mutter Erde unter meinen H\u00e4nden\ngefallen lassen mu\u00dfte, wie oft meine Gef\u00e4\u00dfe in der gro\u00dfen Sonnenhitze\nzerbr\u00f6ckelten oder beim Fortschaffen zerbrachen. Erst nach zwei Monaten\nhatte ich endlich zwei Erzeugnisse zusammengebracht, die nicht einmal\nmit den schlechtesten Schiffskr\u00fcgen nur ann\u00e4hernd verglichen werden\nkonnten. Weniger mi\u00dflangen meine Versuche im Anfertigen kleinerer\nGef\u00e4\u00dfe, z. B. der Teller, T\u00f6pfe, Kr\u00fcge, kurz aller Ger\u00e4tschaften,\ndie sich mit der Hand formen lie\u00dfen. Dabei kam mir auch die g\u00fcnstige\nWitterung zu statten; die Sonne meinte es in diesen Tagen \u00fcberaus gut,\nso da\u00df mein T\u00f6pfergeschirr in erw\u00fcnschter Weise H\u00e4rte gewann.\nMittels meiner fortschreitenden T\u00f6pferk\u00fcnste hatte ich mir Gef\u00e4\u00dfe zum\nAufbewahren von allerlei Lebensmitteln beschafft, aber noch immer\nfehlten mir solche, welche auch das Feuer auszuhalten vermochten. Da\nich weder einen Begriff von der Einrichtung eines Ofens, noch von der\nGlasur hatte, mit der die T\u00f6pfer ihre Waren \u00fcberziehen, so beschr\u00e4nkte\nich mich darauf, drei Kr\u00fcge dicht nebeneinander zu stellen; auf diese\nsetzte ich kleinere Geschirre, und um die so aufget\u00fcrmte Pyramide\nz\u00fcndete ich dann ein t\u00fcchtiges Feuer an, welches die Sandbestandteile\nder Thonerde schmelzen sollte. Die T\u00f6pfe nahmen nach Verlauf von f\u00fcnf\nbis sechs Stunden eine hochrote Farbe an. So wurde ich schlie\u00dflich\nder gl\u00fcckliche Besitzer von drei leidlichen Kr\u00fcgen nebst zwei irdenen\nT\u00f6pfen, die sich auch als feuerfest erwiesen.\nVon meiner Insel blieb noch mancher Teil zu durchstreifen \u00fcbrig.\nDeshalb nahm ich eines Tages meine Flinte samt der n\u00f6tigen Munition,\nein Beil, zwei Zwieb\u00e4cke sowie ein P\u00e4ckchen Rosinen mit und machte\nmich in Begleitung meines Hundes auf den Weg. Am Ende des Thales\nangelangt, in welchem meine Villa lag, sah ich westw\u00e4rts auf das Meer\nund, da die Luft \u00e4u\u00dferst rein und durchsichtig war, fern am Horizont\neinen nebligen Streifen, der von West nach West-S\u00fcd-West verlief und\neine Ausdehnung von f\u00fcnf bis sechs Stunden haben mochte. Zwar wu\u00dfte\nich nicht, ob ich die K\u00fcste einer Insel oder die des amerikanischen\nFestlandes erblickte; vielleicht war ich auf dem rechten Wege, als\nich vermutete, da\u00df die spanischen Kolonien nicht allzu entfernt von\njenem K\u00fcstenstriche l\u00e4gen, und da\u00df sich doch wohl ein Schiff in diesen\nGew\u00e4ssern sehen lassen m\u00fcsse. M\u00f6glicherweise konnten aber auch dort\njene wilden, menschenfressenden V\u00f6lkerschaften hausen, die unter dem\nNamen \u00bbKannibalen\u00ab weithin gef\u00fcrchtet sind.\nUnter solcherlei Gedanken schritt ich \u00fcber Ebenen und Wiesen, die mit\nPflanzen und Blumen pr\u00e4chtig geschm\u00fcckt und auch mit Str\u00e4uchern besetzt\nwaren. Auf den B\u00e4umen hatten sich Scharen von Tauben niedergelassen,\nderen Gegirr von dem schrillen Geschrei buntgefiederter Papageien\n\u00fcbert\u00f6nt ward. Solch einen schmucken Papagei mu\u00dfte ich haben, und in\nder That gelang es mir, einen jungen Vogel dieser Art zu fangen, indem\nich ihn durch einen Wurf mit meinem Wanderstab so gut traf, da\u00df er\nbet\u00e4ubt vom Aste herabfiel. Ich hob ihn auf, er kam allm\u00e4hlich wieder\nzu sich, und ich nahm ihn mit mir.\nIn den Niederungen sah ich au\u00dferdem Tiere, welche ich f\u00fcr Hasen hielt;\nwieder andere mochten F\u00fcchse sein; aber ich lie\u00df meine Flinte in Ruhe,\ndenn Ziegen, Tauben und Schildkr\u00f6ten lieferten so leckeres Fleisch, und\nich besa\u00df an Rosinen eine so schmackhafte Zukost, da\u00df selbst der beste\nMarkt von London nichts Besseres geliefert haben w\u00fcrde.\nAuf meiner Entdeckungsreise durch die Insel r\u00fcckte ich t\u00e4glich nur\nzwei bis drei Meilen vor, doch machte ich nach links und rechts manche\nAbstecher, bis ich erm\u00fcdet an einem solchen Platze anlangte, welcher\nmir zum Nachtlager geeignet schien. Zum Bett mu\u00dften entweder die\nbreiten \u00c4ste eines Baumes oder der harte Boden der Erde dienen. Als ich\nan das Ufer des Meeres kam, sah ich zu meiner \u00dcberraschung, da\u00df die\nK\u00fcste meines K\u00f6nigreichs viel angenehmer und von Tieren mehr bev\u00f6lkert\nwar als der entgegengesetzte Strand. Zahlreiche Schildkr\u00f6ten sonnten\nsich hier im Sande, und Seev\u00f6gel marschierten mit stolzer W\u00fcrde umher.\n[Illustration: Schildkr\u00f6ten und Fetttaucher auf der Insel.]\nTrotz alledem versp\u00fcrte ich keine Lust, meine Wohnung in diese Gegend\nzu verlegen. Indessen setzte ich meine Reise noch etwa zw\u00f6lf Stunden\ngegen Osten weiter fort. Den \u00e4u\u00dfersten Grenzpunkt meiner Wanderungen\nbezeichnete ein eingerammter Pfahl, der mir sp\u00e4ter einmal als\nErkennungszeichen dienen sollte. Dann wandte ich mich gegen Westen, um\nauf einem andern Wege nach Hause zur\u00fcckzukehren. Nachdem ich etwa drei\nMeilen zur\u00fcckgelegt hatte, befand ich mich in einem Thalkessel, der\nrings von hohen, dicht mit Waldung gekr\u00f6nten Bergen ums\u00e4umt war, so da\u00df\nich mich beim weiteren Fortschreiten, um mich zurecht zu finden, nach\ndem Stande der Sonne richten mu\u00dfte.\nW\u00e4hrend der drei Tage, die ich in diesem Thale verweilte, hing aber\nder Himmel voll tr\u00fcber Wolken, und ich wu\u00dfte oft nicht, wohin ich mich\nwenden sollte, ob nach Ost, West, S\u00fcd oder Nord. So sah ich mich denn\ngen\u00f6tigt, nach meinem Pfahl zur\u00fcckzukehren und von da aus den Heimweg\nanzutreten.\nUnterwegs fing mein Hund eine junge Ziege ein. Eiligst sprang ich\nhinzu, um sie seinem scharfen Gebi\u00df zu entrei\u00dfen, was mir auch gl\u00fcckte.\nBald war dem Tiere ein Halsband \u00fcbergeworfen, ein Strick durchgezogen,\nund weiter ging nun die Wanderung, bis wir endlich, jedoch erst nach\nmehreren Tagem\u00e4rschen, durch die sengende Sonnenglut aufs \u00e4u\u00dferste\nermattet, in meinem Wohnsitze ankamen. Ich empfand wirklich eine gro\u00dfe\nFreude, wieder daheim zu sein! Wie sanft schlief ich nach einer\nAbwesenheit von mehr als einem Monate zum erstenmal wieder in meiner\nH\u00e4ngematte.\nDas n\u00e4chste, wof\u00fcr ich Sorge zu tragen hatte, war, meinem Papagei,\nwelcher sich an mich bereits etwas gew\u00f6hnt hatte, einen K\u00e4fig zu bauen,\nsowie die Ziege, welcher ich einstweilen in meinem Lusthause ihren\nAufenthalt angewiesen, nach Hause zu schaffen, um das ausgehungerte\nTierchen mit frischem Futter zu versorgen.\nIch fand es angebunden an derselben Stelle, wo ich es verlassen hatte,\nund es folgte mir wie ein zahmes Haustier Schritt f\u00fcr Schritt, indem es\nfortw\u00e4hrend aus meiner Hand das Futter fra\u00df, mit dem ich es lockte.\nWieder war der 30. September gekommen, und wieder hatte ich unter\ninbr\u00fcnstigem Gebet den Jahrestag meiner Strandung begangen. Zwei Jahre\nlebte ich nun schon auf dem Eilande als dessen alleiniger Bewohner,\nmein eigner K\u00f6nig und mein einziger Unterthan; -- zwei Jahre reich an\nPr\u00fcfungen und Erfahrungen! Und doch hatte sich mir nicht einmal ein\nStrahl von Hoffnung gezeigt, diese einsame Insel verlassen zu k\u00f6nnen.\nIndessen dankte ich Gott f\u00fcr die unendliche G\u00fcte, mit welcher er\nmein armseliges Dasein fristete und meine Einsamkeit mir ertr\u00e4glich\nerscheinen lie\u00df.\nWenn ich in der ersten Zeit meines Verlassenseins hinausstreifte auf\ndie Ebenen und Berge, sei es, um ein Tier auf der Jagd zu erlegen, oder\nsei es, um auf Entdeckungen auszugehen, da begleitete mich der stete\nGedanke an mein Ungl\u00fcck und meine oft trostarme Lage. Ich kam mir vor\nwie ein Gefangener, der, eingeschlossen durch die endlosen Riegel und\nriesigen Schl\u00f6sser des Ozeans, in einer W\u00fcstenei, ohne Hoffnung auf\nBefreiung, ein erb\u00e4rmliches Dasein fristet, und aufgel\u00f6st in Schmerz\nund Betr\u00fcbnis rang ich die H\u00e4nde und weinte bitterlich.\nJetzt war es anders! Neue Gedanken, gesch\u00f6pft aus der Heiligen Schrift,\ndem Buche der B\u00fccher, gaben meinem Geiste eine heilsame Richtung, und\nich gewann meine ganze Seelenst\u00e4rke wieder, wenn meine Augen auf die\nWorte des Trostes fielen. Ich fand Beruhigung in dem Gedanken, da\u00df\nich in meinem gegenw\u00e4rtigen Zustande der Vereinsamung gl\u00fccklicher sein\nk\u00f6nnte, als ich es vielleicht in irgend einer andern Lebensstellung\ngeworden w\u00e4re. Ich dankte dann Gott daf\u00fcr, da\u00df er mich auf dieses\nEiland gef\u00fchrt hatte. Dann wieder schien mir jener Gedanke zu\nweitgehend. \u00bbSolltest du wirklich so zwiesp\u00e4ltig im Gem\u00fcte sein\u00ab, sagte\nich zu mir selbst, \u00bbGott f\u00fcr die Versetzung in eine Lage zu danken, aus\nwelcher erl\u00f6st zu werden ein verzeihlicher und nat\u00fcrlicher Wunsch ist?\u00ab\nJedenfalls dankte ich Gott doch innig daf\u00fcr, da\u00df ich jetzt endlich zur\nSelbsterkenntnis hinsichtlich der begangenen Fehler gelangt war.\nNun trat ich in das dritte Jahr meines Insellebens. In meine t\u00e4glichen\nBesch\u00e4ftigungen hatte ich eine gewisse Regelm\u00e4\u00dfigkeit gebracht.\nZun\u00e4chst verwandte ich auf die Erf\u00fcllung meiner religi\u00f6sen Pflichten,\ninsbesondere auf das Lesen in der Bibel t\u00e4glich eine bestimmte Zeit;\ndann jagte ich, wenn das Wetter sch\u00f6n war, ungef\u00e4hr drei Stunden des\nMorgens. Kam ich nach Hause zur\u00fcck, so hatte ich die mitgebrachten\nLebensmittel wohl aufzubewahren oder zuzubereiten. Die Hitze w\u00e4hrend\nder mittleren Tageszeit gestattete keinen Ausflug, und ich \u00fcberlie\u00df\nmich dann gew\u00f6hnlich der Ruhe. Manchmal arbeitete ich auch des Morgens\nund ging des Abends auf die Jagd.\nEnde November war herangekommen, und ich konnte bereits meiner Gersten-\nund Reisernte entgegensehen. Aber wie gro\u00df war mein Schrecken, als ich\nbei einer Besichtigung meines kleinen Ackerfeldes gewahr wurde, da\u00df\ndie Ziegen alle jungen saftigen Halme abgefressen hatten. Es galt nun,\nschleunigst weiteren Verw\u00fcstungen vorzubeugen. Ich umgab mein Zelt mit\neiner dichten Umz\u00e4unung, wor\u00fcber ich nahe an drei Wochen zubrachte.\nFerner scho\u00df ich auf die Tiere, welche sich am Tage heranwagten, und\nlie\u00df w\u00e4hrend der Nacht meinen Hund Wache halten, so da\u00df sich endlich\ndie abgeschreckten Eindringlinge fern hielten.\nGleichwie die behaarten Vierf\u00fc\u00dfler sich zu den kr\u00e4ftig emporsprossenden\nHalmen hingezogen f\u00fchlten, hatten es die gefiederten Zweif\u00fc\u00dfler auf\ndie K\u00f6rner abgesehen. Als ich eines Tages nach dem Stande meiner\nFeldfr\u00fcchte sah, wimmelte die ganze Umgebung von zahlreichen\nverschiedenartigen V\u00f6geln. Ich scho\u00df unter den dicksten Haufen, und\nsofort erhob sich mit wirrem Schreien mitten aus dem Kornfeld eine\nwahre Wolke von V\u00f6geln, die ich vorher gar nicht bemerkt hatte.\nMeine Ernteaussichten schienen nach solchen Betrachtungen trostloser\nNatur zu sein; doch durfte ich um keinen Preis den Rest meines\nGetreides der Vernichtung \u00fcberlassen.\nW\u00e4hrend ich nun neben meinem Felde stand und die Flinte von neuem lud,\nsa\u00dfen die durch meinen ersten Schu\u00df aufgescheuchten V\u00f6gel auf den\nn\u00e4chsten B\u00e4umen und schienen nur auf meine Entfernung zu harren. Als\nich mich etwas entfernte, fielen die gefr\u00e4\u00dfigen Tiere von neuem \u00fcber\ndie K\u00f6rner her. Ihre f\u00fcr mich so verderbliche Eilfertigkeit versetzte\nmich derart in einen unverst\u00e4ndigen Zorn, da\u00df ich nicht einmal wartete,\nbis alle herangekommen sein w\u00fcrden, sondern sogleich unter die ersten\nscho\u00df, wodurch drei der kleinen R\u00e4uber get\u00f6tet wurden. Dann vollf\u00fchrte\nich an ihnen eine Art Strafgericht; gleichwie man anderw\u00e4rts die Diebe\naufh\u00e4ngt, so hing ich auch die V\u00f6gel auf, damit sie ihren l\u00fcsternen\nGenossen als warnendes Beispiel dienten.\nDie Wirkung war auffallend: keines der Tiere wagte sich mehr auf mein\nFeld, ja sie verlie\u00dfen sogar allesamt jenen Teil der Insel, auf dem\nes ihnen nicht mehr geheuer zu sein schien. Nach diesem S\u00e4uberungszug\nhatte ich die Freude, gegen das Ende des Dezember, zur Zeit der zweiten\nReife, mein Korn einernten zu k\u00f6nnen. Ich sammelte die abgem\u00e4hten \u00c4hren\nin einen gro\u00dfen Korb und k\u00f6rnte sie einzeln mit den H\u00e4nden aus. Das\nLiter Samen hatte mir nach oberfl\u00e4chlicher Sch\u00e4tzung zwei Scheffel\nReis sowie einen halben Scheffel Gerste eingetragen, und ich beschlo\u00df,\nden ganzen Ertrag an K\u00f6rnern f\u00fcr die n\u00e4chste Aussaat aufzubewahren.\nInzwischen versuchte ich, zur passenden Umgrabung des Ackerbodens mir\neinen Spaten zu fertigen, was mich eine ganze Woche Zeit kostete. Ein\nbesonderes Meisterwerk war mir mit diesem Spaten allerdings nicht\ngelungen, denn er wurde mir verm\u00f6ge seiner Schwerf\u00e4lligkeit oft recht\nunbequem; indes empfand ich doch ein Gef\u00fchl der Befriedigung dar\u00fcber,\nda\u00df sich meine Einrichtungen abermals um einen Schritt weiter\nvervollkommnet hatten. Die Getreidek\u00f6rner wurden auf den ger\u00e4umigen\nFeldern ganz nahe an meiner Wohnung in die Erde gebracht, wobei ich f\u00fcr\nden Reis die feuchteste Stelle aussuchte, da, wie ich bemerkt hatte,\nderselbe nur auf nassem Boden eine eintr\u00e4gliche Ernte versprach.\nIch umz\u00e4unte die Felder mit einem starken Gehege und durfte nun hoffen,\nam Ende des Jahres eine gr\u00fcne und schattige Hecke zu haben, welche nur\nhier und da einmal ausgeputzt zu werden brauchte.\nW\u00e4hrend der inzwischen eingetretenen Regenzeit hielt ich mich meist\nim Innern meiner H\u00fctte auf und besch\u00e4ftigte mich mit mancherlei\nh\u00e4uslichen Verrichtungen. Empfand ich hin und wieder das Bed\u00fcrfnis,\nmich von meinen anstrengenden Arbeiten zu erholen, dann unterhielt ich\nmich mit meinem munteren Hausgenossen, dem Papagei, und lehrte diesen\nsprechen; bald konnte das gelehrige Tier seinen Namen nachplappern und\nwiederholte mit deutlicher Stimme: \u00bbPoll! Poll!\u00ab Das war der erste\nartikulierte, wie von einer Menschenstimme kommende Laut, den ich auf\ndem Eilande in meiner Einsamkeit, fern von allen menschlichen Wesen,\nvernahm.\n[Illustration: Wie Robinson die Halme niederm\u00e4ht.]\nSiebentes Kapitel.\nRobinson als B\u00e4cker und Schiffbauer.\n  Robinson macht sich einen M\u00f6rser und ein Sieb. -- Ernte. --\n  Brotbacken. -- Vergebliche Anstrengungen wegen der Schaluppe. --\n  Robinson baut ein Boot; vereitelte Hoffnungen. -- R\u00fcckblicke auf das\n  dreij\u00e4hrige Inselleben. -- Trauriger Zustand der Kleider. -- Robinson\n  wird Schneider.\nVon allen bekannten Handwerken war mir bis zu dieser Zeit meines Lebens\nkeines so wildfremd geblieben, wie das eines Steinmetzen, und doch\nmu\u00dfte ich darauf sinnen, mir einen M\u00f6rser oder ein andres geeignetes\nWerkzeug zu schaffen, um das Getreide in Mehl zu verwandeln. Lange\nZeit suchte ich vergebens nach einem Steinblock, der sich m\u00f6rserartig\naush\u00f6hlen lie\u00dfe; dann entschlo\u00df ich mich endlich, einen harten\nHolzblock aus meinem Forst zu holen.\nMit uns\u00e4glicher Anstrengung f\u00e4llte ich einen dicken Baumstamm, hieb\nam unteren Ende ein ambo\u00df\u00e4hnliches St\u00fcck ab, rundete es ringsum mit\nmeiner Axt und h\u00f6hlte es durch Feuer aus, wie es die wilden Eingebornen\nBrasiliens mit ihren kleinen Seefahrzeugen (Kanoes) thun. Als Stampfe\ndiente mir eine wuchtige Keule aus demselben harten Holze.\nAber auch f\u00fcr ein Sieb mu\u00dfte gesorgt werden, um das durch Stampfen\ngewonnene Mehl durchzusch\u00fctten und es von der Kleie zu sichten. Hier\nwar guter Rat teuer, denn ich hatte weder Kanevas noch Bastgeflechte.\nAber unter den Matrosensachen, die ich vom Wrack gerettet hatte,\nbefanden sich etliche Halst\u00fccher von Kattun und Musselin; aus diesen\nverfertigte ich drei kleine Siebe, die ich auch ziemlich brauchbar fand.\nDie Zeit der Ernte nahte heran. Mit meinen K\u00f6rben schritt ich hinaus\naufs Feld und \u00fcberschaute den Fr\u00fcchtereichtum des Bodens. Dann schnitt\nich die \u00c4hren, sammelte sie in Garbenb\u00fcscheln in die K\u00f6rbe und trug die\nsegenschwere Last nach Hause. Hier lie\u00df ich alles so stehen, wie ich es\neingeheimst hatte, bis ich Zeit und Mittel finden konnte, das Getreide\nauszuk\u00f6rnen; denn ich hatte weder eine Tenne noch einen Dreschflegel.\nIm ganzen brachte ich 20 Scheffel Gerste und ebensoviel Reis in mein\nKornmagazin, weshalb es sich als notwendig herausstellte, das letztere\nbesser einzurichten. Aus Erfahrung wu\u00dfte ich jetzt, da\u00df ich j\u00e4hrlich\nzweimal s\u00e4en und ernten k\u00f6nne; die Entscheidung dar\u00fcber, was in Zukunft\nf\u00fcr mich und meinen Hausstand am zweckm\u00e4\u00dfigsten sein w\u00fcrde, wollte ich\nvon der Gr\u00f6\u00dfe meines diesmaligen Verbrauchs abh\u00e4ngig sein lassen.\nZun\u00e4chst nahm ich meine \u00c4hren, rieb sie aus, stampfte die K\u00f6rner\nin meinem M\u00f6rser und siebte sie durch die Matrosenhalst\u00fccher. Zum\nBrotbacken braucht man aber bekanntlich einen Ofen, und die Not\nmacht erfinderisch. Ich baute mir gro\u00dfe irdene Gef\u00e4\u00dfe zusammen, die\nwohl breit, aber nicht zu tief waren; dann h\u00e4rtete ich diese mehr\npfannenartigen Gef\u00e4\u00dfe im Feuer. Wollte ich nun Brot backen, so z\u00fcndete\nich ein t\u00fcchtiges Feuer auf meinem Herde an, den ich mit rotgebrannten\nSteinen eigner Fabrik gepflastert hatte. Sobald das Holz hierauf zu\ngl\u00fchender Kohle ausgebrannt war, breitete ich dieselbe derart auf dem\nBoden aus, da\u00df die Steine geh\u00f6rig durchhitzt wurden. Dann zog ich die\nKohlen zur\u00fcck, fegte die Asche weg, legte meine Brote oder vielmehr\nflachen Kuchen an deren Stelle, bedeckte dieselben mit den beiden\nirdenen Gef\u00e4\u00dfen und h\u00e4ufte ringsumher gl\u00fchende Kohlen und Asche, um die\nHitze noch zu verst\u00e4rken. So bereitete ich meine Brote ebenso gut, als\nw\u00e4ren sie im besten Ofen der Welt gebacken worden; ja, ich versuchte\nmich sogar im Backen verschiedener Arten von Kuchen und Reispuddings,\ndie in meinen einf\u00f6rmigen Speisezettel eine angenehme Abwechselung\nbrachten.\nBei all dieser mich sehr in Anspruch nehmenden Arbeit besch\u00e4ftigten\nsich doch meine Gedanken wiederholt mit jenem K\u00fcstenlande, welches\nich auf meiner letzten Entdeckungsreise deutlich als dunklen Streifen\nam Horizont wahrgenommen hatte. Im Glauben, da\u00df jenes Land zum\namerikanischen Festlande geh\u00f6re, flogen meine W\u00fcnsche \u00fcber die weite\nMeeresfl\u00e4che und regten mit aller Gewalt in mir die Sehnsucht an,\ndorthin zu gelangen.\nIndes empfand ich die Wahrheit des alten Spruches: \u00bbDas Wasser hat\nkeine Balken.\u00ab Ich w\u00fcnschte mir lebhaft meinen treuen Xury und das\nBoot mit den lateinischen Segeln zur\u00fcck, mit dem ich eine so weite und\ngefahrvolle Reise l\u00e4ngs der afrikanischen K\u00fcste zur\u00fcckgelegt hatte;\nohne Bedenken h\u00e4tte ich mich dann von neuem dem unsicheren Elemente\nanvertraut.\nDa fiel mir eines Tages die Schaluppe unsres Schiffes ein, welche\nweit auf die K\u00fcste geworfen worden war. Flugs machte ich mich auf, um\nzu untersuchen, in welcher Verfassung sie sich bef\u00e4nde. Ich traf sie\nauch noch an der n\u00e4mlichen Stelle, wo sie zuerst gelegen hatte, aber\nin umgekehrter Lage, denn die Gewalt der Fluten und der St\u00fcrme hatte\nsie auf eine sehr hohe Sandbank geworfen und aufs Trockene gesetzt. Es\nkam zun\u00e4chst darauf an, die Schaluppe wieder umzukehren und flott zu\nmachen. Nach vielen vergeblichen M\u00fchen und Anstrengungen kam ich auf\nden Einfall, den Sand unter dem Boote wegzugraben, um es von selbst\nherabgleiten zu lassen und den Abrutsch durch untergeschobene Walzen\nund St\u00fctzen zu lenken. Aber auch hierdurch gelang es mir nicht, die\nSchaluppe vorw\u00e4rts zu schieben und ins Wasser gelangen zu lassen,\ndeshalb gab ich nach einer fruchtlosen Arbeit w\u00e4hrend drei bis vier\nWochen die ganze Sache auf.\nSo sehr auch meine Hoffnungen vereitelt waren, so wurden doch meine\nBegierde und mein Mut nur verst\u00e4rkt, und ich fa\u00dfte den Entschlu\u00df,\nselbst ein Kanoe aus einem Baumstamm zu bauen. Ich hielt dies nicht\nnur f\u00fcr m\u00f6glich, sondern sogar f\u00fcr leicht, zumal ich \u00fcber viel mehr\nHilfsmittel verf\u00fcgte als die Neger oder Indianer. Freilich h\u00e4tte\nich auch \u00fcberlegen sollen, da\u00df ich Vereinsamter mit ganz andern\nSchwierigkeiten zu k\u00e4mpfen haben w\u00fcrde als die Indianer, die einander\nbeistehen. Was half es mir am Ende, falls ich auch das sch\u00f6nste Kanoe\nvon ganz Amerika zustande br\u00e4chte, wenn ich es nicht ins Meer zu\nschaffen verm\u00f6chte?\nMan sollte denken, da\u00df die Erfahrungen, die ich vordem mit der aufs\nTrockene gelegten Schaluppe gemacht hatte, mir hinsichtlich der\nM\u00f6glichkeit, das Boot in das Wasser zu bringen, einen handgreiflichen\nWink gegeben h\u00e4tten: nichts von alledem! Meine unst\u00e4ten Gedanken\nverschmolzen sich schon so sehr mit der Meerfahrt, da\u00df ich die Sache\nm\u00f6glichst ungeschickt anfing. Aber stets beschwichtigte ich alle\nBef\u00fcrchtungen mit der th\u00f6richten Tr\u00f6stung: \u00bbLa\u00df nur gut sein, Robinson!\nErst das Boot fertig, das \u00fcbrige wird sich finden!\u00ab\nKurz, mein Eigensinn siegte \u00fcber den Verstand. Ich fand auch einen\npr\u00e4chtigen Baum, der mir f\u00fcr meinen Zweck ganz wie geschaffen schien.\nZwanzig Tage brachte ich dazu, den Riesen zu f\u00e4llen, und vierzehn Tage\nmu\u00dfte ich darauf verwenden, \u00c4ste und Krone abzuhauen. Dann kostete\nes fast einen ganzen Monat Zeit, dem Stamme jene bauchf\u00f6rmige \u00e4u\u00dfere\nGestalt des Bootes zu geben, damit er auf dem Wasser schwimmen k\u00f6nne,\nohne sich zur Seite zu neigen. Weiterhin brauchte ich noch drei Monate,\num das Innere auszuh\u00f6hlen, und zwar bediente ich mich dazu nicht des\nFeuers nach Art der Indianer, sondern nur des Beiles und des Mei\u00dfels.\nAls ich mit meiner Arbeit zu Ende war, empfand ich eine wahrhafte\nFreude an meiner Sch\u00f6pfung, denn ich hatte in der That noch nie einen\nso gro\u00dfen, aus einem einzigen Baumstamm gehauenen Ruderkahn gesehen,\ngro\u00df genug, um mehr als zwanzig Mann zu fassen, und demzufolge auch\nmich samt meinen Habseligkeiten zu tragen. Das Boot hatte unz\u00e4hlige\nAxt- und Hammerschl\u00e4ge, manchen Schwei\u00dftropfen gekostet, und w\u00e4re es\nmir gelungen, dasselbe flott zu machen, wer wei\u00df, ob ich nicht die\nun\u00fcberlegteste Reise gewagt h\u00e4tte, wie sie nur je ein wagehalsiger\nAbenteurer unternehmen konnte.\nMein neues Fahrzeug lag zwar nicht weit vom Meere entfernt; aber das\ngro\u00dfe Hindernis bestand darin, da\u00df das Ufer zum Meere bergan lief.\nIch lie\u00df indes den Mut nicht sinken, sondern versuchte, die Anh\u00f6he\nwegzur\u00e4umen und das Land nach der K\u00fcste zu abf\u00e4llig zu machen. Als der\nWeg so ziemlich geebnet war, befand ich mich um nichts gef\u00f6rdert, denn\ndas Kanoe r\u00fcckte \u00e4u\u00dferst wenig von der Stelle, so wenig wie vordem\ndie Schaluppe. Hierauf ma\u00df ich die Entfernung ab, welche zwischen\nmeinem Boote und dem Meere lag, sowie die Tiefe des Bodens und die\nerforderliche Breite, um einen gen\u00fcgend breiten und tiefen Kanal bis\nzum Meere zu bauen und in diesem Bassin mein Boot hinabzuf\u00fchren. Indem\nich den Kraftaufwand hinsichtlich solch kolossaler Bauten veranschlagte\n-- denn der Kanal h\u00e4tte sehr viel Tiefe haben m\u00fcssen -- und damit die\nmir zu Gebote stehenden Arbeitsmittel, d. h. meine zwei r\u00fcstigen Arme,\nin Vergleich brachte, erlangte ich als Ergebnis meines Voranschlags die\n\u00dcberzeugung, da\u00df recht gut zehn bis zw\u00f6lf Jahre vergehen k\u00f6nnten, ehe\nich ans Ziel meiner W\u00fcnsche kommen konnte.\nDieses erf\u00fcllte mich mit gro\u00dfer Betr\u00fcbnis; ich sah jetzt, leider zu\nsp\u00e4t, ein, wie th\u00f6richt es ist, ein Werk zu beginnen, wenn man sich\nvorher nicht Klarheit dar\u00fcber verschafft, ob der Gr\u00f6\u00dfe des Unternehmens\ngem\u00e4\u00df auch die zur Verf\u00fcgung stehenden Mittel zur Ausf\u00fchrung\nhinreichen.\nMitten unter dieser Arbeit hatte ich mein *viertes* Jahr auf dem Eiland\nzur\u00fcckgelegt. Ich feierte den Jahrestag meiner Ankunft, wie in fr\u00fcheren\nJahren, durch ernste und gottergebene Betrachtungen, die mir reichen\nTrost einfl\u00f6\u00dften.\nAn eben demselben Jahrestage, an welchem ich meinen Eltern entlief,\num mich in Hull einzuschiffen, ward ich durch den Seer\u00e4uber von Saleh\ngefangen genommen und zu Sklavendiensten gezwungen. An dem n\u00e4mlichen\nTage, als ich aus dem Schiffbruch auf der Reede von Yarmouth gerettet\nward, entfloh ich gl\u00fccklich aus Saleh. Am 30. September 1659 endlich,\nan meinem 26. Geburtstage, wurde ich wunderbar gerettet und auf diese\nInsel verschlagen.\nDer erste meiner Vorr\u00e4te, welcher mir nach der Tinte ausging, war der\nSchiffszwieback, und obgleich ich mit demselben h\u00f6chst haush\u00e4lterisch\numgegangen war, so hatte ich ihn dennoch schon ein Jahr vor meiner\nKornernte g\u00e4nzlich aufgezehrt, was mich allerdings etwas in\nVerlegenheit versetzte.\nMit meiner Kleidung sah es gleichfalls recht windig aus, denn seit\nl\u00e4ngerer Zeit besa\u00df ich nichts weiter als wenige Matrosenhemden,\ndie meine Haut vor den stechenden Sonnenstrahlen sch\u00fctzten. Bei\neiner Durchsuchung meiner Kisten fand ich jedoch etliche taugliche\nKleidungsst\u00fccke sowie ein paar gro\u00dfe \u00dcberr\u00f6cke. Fast mu\u00dfte ich \u00fcber\nden Fund dieser letzteren l\u00e4cheln, denn ich h\u00e4tte es in denselben vor\nHitze nicht aushalten k\u00f6nnen, und doch wu\u00dfte ich auch hieraus etwas\nBrauchbares zu schaffen. Da sich n\u00e4mlich alle meine Jacken in einem\nZustande bedenkenerregender Zerfahrenheit befanden, so lag es sehr\nnahe, mich auch einmal als ehrsamen Kleiderk\u00fcnstler zu versuchen, und\nich fertigte nun drei Jacken, die ich ziemlich lange tragen zu k\u00f6nnen\nhoffte. War aber schon das Fabrikat derjenigen Kleidungsst\u00fccke, die\nmeinen Oberk\u00f6rper bedecken sollten, in einer Weise ausgefallen, die\nselbst das Mitleid nachsichtiger Leute herausforderte, so legten meine\nVersuche hinsichtlich der Beinkleider ein noch gl\u00e4nzenderes Zeugnis\nbejammernsw\u00fcrdiger Unbeholfenheit ab.\nIch mu\u00df hier nachtr\u00e4glich erw\u00e4hnen, da\u00df ich die H\u00e4ute aller get\u00f6teten\nvierf\u00fc\u00dfigen Tiere aufbewahrte und auf St\u00e4ben an der Sonne trocknen\nlie\u00df. Einige derselben waren so hart geworden, da\u00df sie zu nichts mehr\ntaugten; andre aber, die nicht bis zu jener Steife zusammenged\u00f6rrt\nwaren, leisteten mir leidlich gute Dienste.\nDas erste, was ich mir nun verfertigte, war eine neue gro\u00dfe\nKopfbedeckung aus Ziegenfell, an welchem ich die Haar au\u00dferhalb lie\u00df,\num mich so besser gegen den Regen zu sch\u00fctzen.\nNoch etwas andres stellte sich mir als unentbehrlich heraus,\nn\u00e4mlich ein *Regen-* oder *Sonnenschirm*. Denn da ich meist im\nFreien weilen mu\u00dfte, so qu\u00e4lte mich die Hitze der tropischen Sonne\n\u00e4u\u00dferst empfindlich. Lange Zeit w\u00e4hrte es, bis ich etwas Taugliches\nzustande brachte. Die Hauptschwierigkeit bestand darin, den Schirm\nso zu verfertigen, da\u00df ich ihn zusammenlegen konnte; im andern Falle\nh\u00e4tte ich ihn stets aufgespannt tragen m\u00fcssen, was sicherlich die\nBequemlichkeit nicht sehr vermehrt haben w\u00fcrde. Ich bedeckte dieses\ntragbare Wetterdach mit Ziegenfellen, deren Haare ich nach ausw\u00e4rts\nkehrte; so sch\u00fctzte ich mich, so gut es gehen wollte, gegen den Regen\nwie gegen die Sonnenstrahlen. Bedurfte ich seiner nicht mehr, so\nklappte ich den Schirm zusammen.\nVor der Hand hatte ich nun so ziemlich alle Bed\u00fcrfnisse befriedigt,\ndie sich in meiner Einsamkeit \u00fcberhaupt einstellen konnten; aber nie\nschweigen die W\u00fcnsche des Menschen still. Ich wollte mit dem gewonnenen\nN\u00fctzlichen auch das Angenehme verbinden, und was konnte mir da wohl\nn\u00e4her liegen als der Besitz -- einer *Tabakspfeife*? Hatte ich mich\ndoch in der T\u00f6pferei hinl\u00e4nglich erprobt, da\u00df mir die Fabrikation eines\nPfeifenkopfes nur leichtes Spiel schien; auf k\u00fcnstlerische Verzierung\ndieses Thonst\u00fcckes mu\u00dfte ich freilich immer noch Verzicht leisten. Ein\nausgeh\u00f6hltes Rohr herzurichten, machte wenig Kopfzerbrechen, und so\nkonnte ich nun mit meinem edlen Kraute das Inselreich durchdampfen.\nIch kann nicht sagen, da\u00df mir in f\u00fcnf Jahren etwas Ungew\u00f6hnliches\nbegegnet sei, denn ich lebte in derselben Lage, an dem n\u00e4mlichen Orte,\nauf die gleiche Weise wie fr\u00fcher. Ich baute mein Korn, buk Brot,\nerntete Trauben ein und sorgte immer f\u00fcr einen ausreichenden Vorrat\nhinsichtlich aller n\u00f6tigen Nahrungsmittel; oft ging ich auf die Jagd,\nscho\u00df V\u00f6gel und Ziegen, fing auch, um eine sehr schmackhafte Suppe zu\nhaben, dann und wann eine Schildkr\u00f6te und angelte Fische. Da\u00df ich auch\ndie ehrsamen Gewerke eines Zimmermanns, T\u00f6pfers, Korbflechters, selbst\ndes Schneiders in Ehren hielt, habe ich bereits erw\u00e4hnt.\nW\u00e4hrend dieser f\u00fcnf Jahre richtete ich mein Hauptaugenmerk darauf, mir\neine andre Barke zu bauen, diesmal aber die Sache kl\u00fcger anzufangen\nals vorher. Zwar fand ich auch jetzt nicht n\u00e4her am Strande einen f\u00fcr\nmein Vorhaben tauglichen Baum; denn die Baumregion begann erst eine\nziemliche Strecke vom Ufer. Da schlenderte ich eines Tages ungef\u00e4hr\neine halbe Stunde landeinw\u00e4rts, l\u00e4ngs dem Ufer jenes Baches hin, wo\nich mit den Fl\u00f6\u00dfen gelandet war. Dort fand ich endlich, etwa zehn\nSchritt vom Wasser, was ich suchte. Ich f\u00e4llte den Baum, handhabte\ndann unabl\u00e4ssig Beil und Mei\u00dfel und hatte schlie\u00dflich die Freude,\nmeine Piroge fertig zu sehen. Nun grub ich einen Kanal, schaffte unter\nmanchem Schwei\u00dftropfen mein Kanoe von der Werft auf das Wasser und\nfl\u00f6\u00dfte es nach dem Meere hinab in die Bucht.\n[Illustration: Robinsons Tabakspfeife.]\nObgleich ich nicht weniger als zwei Jahre mit meinen\nSchiffszimmerarbeiten zugebracht hatte, so entsprach doch die Gr\u00f6\u00dfe\nder Barke nicht dem Zwecke, welchen ich bei Erbauung der ersteren\nverfolgte, n\u00e4mlich dem, mit derselben das gegen\u00fcberliegende Festland\nzu erreichen, welches nach meiner Sch\u00e4tzung wohl vierzig englische\nMeilen entfernt lag. Dennoch empfand ich eine nicht zu beschreibende\nFreude, als ich mein selbsterbautes Fahrzeug so sicher und leicht\nauf den Wellen dahingleiten sah, und wenn ich auch auf den Wunsch\nverzichten mu\u00dfte, jenes ferne K\u00fcstenland zu erreichen, so schien mir\nmein Boot doch hinl\u00e4nglich fest, um in demselben eine Rundreise um\nmein Eiland unternehmen zu k\u00f6nnen. Zu diesem Zwecke pflanzte ich einen\nkleinen Mast auf meinen Ruderkahn und brachte ein Segel zustande, das\nich aus mehreren St\u00fcck Leinwand zusammenschneiderte. Ebenso sorgte\nich an beiden Seiten f\u00fcr K\u00e4stchen und sonstige Beh\u00e4ltnisse, um darin\nLebensmittel, Pulver und Blei aufzubewahren und so gegen den Regen und\nden Gischt des Meeres gesichert zu sein. Im Innern des Bootes machte\nich der ganzen L\u00e4nge nach eine H\u00f6hlung, legte meine Flinte hinein\nund nagelte zum Schutze gegen die N\u00e4sse Leinwand dar\u00fcber. Au\u00dferdem\nbefestigte ich noch meinen Schirm am Hinterteile der Barke, zum Schutze\ngegen die brennenden Sonnenstrahlen, setzte ein Steuerruder sowie\neinen Anker in Bereitschaft und versuchte mich zun\u00e4chst in kleinen\nLustfahrten in der N\u00e4he meiner Besitzung.\nNachdem ich die Tauglichkeit meines Bootes durch solche Ausfl\u00fcge auf\ndem Wasser erprobt hatte, konnte ich doch der Begierde, den ganzen\nUmfang meines kleinen K\u00f6nigreichs kennen zu lernen, nicht l\u00e4nger\nwiderstehen. Ich brachte in mein Kanoe eine hinl\u00e4ngliche Menge\nProviant, n\u00e4mlich zwei Dutzend Brote oder vielmehr Gerstenkuchen, einen\nTopf mit Reis, eine Ziegenh\u00e4lfte und ein Fl\u00e4schchen Rum; auch nahm ich\nPulver und Blei mit, sowie zwei \u00dcberr\u00f6cke, die mir in k\u00fchlen N\u00e4chten\nteils als Matratzen, teils als Decke dienen sollten.\nSo ausger\u00fcstet begab ich mich am 6. November des sechsten Jahres meines\nInsellebens an Bord und stach in See. Indessen sollte diese Seefahrt\neine andre Wendung nehmen, als ich gedacht hatte. Nachdem ich eine\nStrecke hinausgefahren und an die \u00f6stliche K\u00fcste gelangt war, bemerkte\nich eine Kette von Felsen, die meilenweit ins Meer hinausragten und von\ndenen einige Klippen \u00fcber, andre unter der Wasserfl\u00e4che vorschoben. Am\nEnde des Riffs breitete sich noch eine Sandbank von einer halben Stunde\nin derselben Richtung aus, so da\u00df ich einen gro\u00dfen Umweg zu machen\nhatte, wenn ich die Spitze umsegeln wollte.\nDiese Entdeckung kam mir sehr ungelegen, und da mir die Fahrt denn doch\netwas gef\u00e4hrlich schien, steuerte ich in meine Bucht zur\u00fcck und legte\nmeine Barke vor Anker. Hierauf griff ich zur Flinte, stieg ans Land\nund erklomm einen H\u00fcgel, von wo ich das ganze Felsenriff \u00fcberschauen\nkonnte.\nIch bemerkte eine heftige Str\u00f6mung, die in der Richtung nach Osten\nganz nahe an der \u00e4u\u00dfersten Spitze der Sandbank hinlief. Dieser Umstand\nkonnte f\u00fcr mich sehr gef\u00e4hrlich werden; denn wenn mich der Strom\npackte und mit sich fortri\u00df, so mu\u00dfte ich der Insel vielleicht auf\nimmer lebewohl sagen. Von der S\u00fcdseite lie\u00df sich ein \u00e4hnlicher Strom\nin der Richtung nach Ost-Nordost wahrnehmen, jedoch in einer gr\u00f6\u00dferen\nEntfernung vom Ufer. Dann sah ich eine ziemlich genau angedeutete\nSandbank, die gegen die K\u00fcste verlief. Diesen Beobachtungen zufolge\nmu\u00dfte ich meinen Kurs so nahe an der ersten Sandbank halten, als es\nohne Gefahr, zu stranden, irgend anging.\nEin steifer Wind aus Ost-S\u00fcdost sauste gerade dem nord\u00f6stlichsten Strom\nentgegen und dr\u00e4ngte das Wasser in heftiger Brandung an das Riff und\ndie Spitze der Landzunge. Deshalb konnte ich mich nicht auf das Meer\nwagen. Wegen der Brandung war es doch zu gef\u00e4hrlich, mich nahe am Lande\nzu halten, und die Str\u00f6mung legte mir anderseits die Notwendigkeit auf,\nmich nicht weit vom Lande zu entfernen. Aus diesem Grunde blieb ich\nruhig in meiner Bucht zwei Tage vor Anker liegen.\n[Illustration: Robinsons Nachtruhe.]\nAchtes Kapitel.\nRobinsons ungl\u00fcckliche Bootfahrt.\n  Gef\u00e4hrliche Seereise. -- In die See hinausgetrieben. --\n  Sehnsuchtsvolle Betrachtungen. -- Die beiden Str\u00f6mungen und\n  gl\u00fcckliche Landung. -- Des Papageis Ruf. -- Robinsons \u00bbFamilie\u00ab. --\n  Ziegenfang und Ziegenpark. -- Schneiderk\u00fcnste. -- Neue Beobachtungen.\n  -- R\u00fcckblicke.\nAm Morgen des dritten Tages legte sich der Wind, das Meer wurde\nruhig, und nun erst begann ich meine Seefahrt. Mein Schicksal m\u00f6ge\nunerfahrenen und wagehalsigen Schiffern zur Warnung dienen! Kaum hatte\nich die Spitze der Sandbank erreicht, von dem Ufer nur um die L\u00e4nge\nmeiner Barke entfernt, als ein Strom gleich einer M\u00fchlschleuse mich\nmit \u00fcberw\u00e4ltigender Heftigkeit packte. Alle M\u00fche, dagegen anzuk\u00e4mpfen,\nerwies sich als umsonst; immer weiter trieb mich die Str\u00f6mung von der\nSandbank, die mir zur Linken lag. Weder Segel noch Ruder konnte ich\nmit Erfolg gebrauchen. Wurde ich von der Str\u00f6mung etwa in die See\nhinausgeworfen, so schien mein Untergang unvermeidlich, insbesondere\nwegen des Mangels an Lebensmitteln. Denn die am ersten Tage in die\nBarke geschafften Vorr\u00e4te nebst einer noch am Meeresufer von mir\ngefangenen Schildkr\u00f6te konnten nicht ausreichen, wenn ich weit hinaus\nauf den unerme\u00dflichen Ozean getrieben wurde, vielleicht viele Meilen\nvon der K\u00fcste entfernt.\nJetzt gedachte ich meiner einsamen und verlassenen Insel, die mir\nnun wie ein behaglicher und reizender Ort erschien. \u00bbGl\u00fcckliche\nEin\u00f6de!\u00ab klagte ich, \u00bbwerde ich dich jemals wiedersehen? Nie wollte\nich dich wieder verlassen!\u00ab So erkannte ich, als mir meine Besitzung\nschon verloren schien, erst ihren vollen Wert. Ich ruderte aus allen\nKr\u00e4ften und blieb m\u00f6glichst in derselben Richtung, in welcher die\nStr\u00f6mung die Sandbank treffen konnte. Pl\u00f6tzlich erhob sich ein leichter\nS\u00fcd-S\u00fcd-Ostwind, der sich nach einer halben Stunde zu einer frischen\nBrise verwandelte. Das Wetter zeigte sich g\u00fcnstig; ich sah nach meinem\nMast, ob er auch noch feststehe, breitete meine Segel aus und suchte\nmich aus der Str\u00f6mung zu bugsieren. Bald bemerkte ich, da\u00df der Strom\nnicht mehr so tr\u00fcbe und heftig war und sich an Felsenklippen brach, so\nda\u00df der Hauptstrich dieselben nord\u00f6stlich liegen lie\u00df und selbst nach\nS\u00fcden lief. Der andre Arm hingegen, von der Klippe abprallend, str\u00f6mte\nnach Nordost. Mit Hilfe dieser Brechung und vom Winde unterst\u00fctzt,\nsegelte ich eine Zeitlang fort, bis ich bemerkte, da\u00df mich die Str\u00f6mung\nzu weit nach Norden und von der Insel ablenken w\u00fcrde. Nun befand ich\nmich zwischen zwei gro\u00dfen Flutarmen: dem des S\u00fcdens, der mich zuerst\nmit fortgerissen hatte, und dem des Nordens, welcher auf der andern\nSeite der Insel die Strecke von etwa einer Meile beherrschte. Ich bot\ndaher meine ganze Kraft auf, um mich etwas westlich zu halten und mein\nFahrzeug in stilleres Wasser zu bringen. Es gelang mir, und etwa gegen\n5 Uhr nachmittags kam ich, durch den Wind beg\u00fcnstigt, auf meiner Insel\nwieder an.\nSobald ich unter meinen F\u00fc\u00dfen wieder Land f\u00fchlte, lieh ich den Gef\u00fchlen\nmeines dankbaren Herzens in einem Gebet zu Gott Worte und gelobte mir\nfeierlich, auf jeden weiteren Versuch einer Meerfahrt zu verzichten\nund mich nicht mehr auf die offene See zu wagen. Nachdem ich mich\nerholt und durch eine kleine Mahlzeit gest\u00e4rkt hatte, legte ich mich\nim Schatten der B\u00e4ume nieder und schlief bald ein. Am andern Tage\n\u00fcberlegte ich, wie ich die R\u00fcckreise zu meiner Behausung antreten\nsollte. Ich entschlo\u00df mich, an der K\u00fcste hin gegen Westen zu steuern,\num ein sicheres Asyl f\u00fcr mein Boot zu finden. Bald entdeckte ich einige\nMeilen weiter einen Kanal, der weit in das Land einm\u00fcndete, immer\nschm\u00e4ler wurde und in einen kleinen Flu\u00df auslief.\nHier lie\u00df ich mein Fahrzeug zur\u00fcck und beschlo\u00df, den R\u00fcckweg zu Fu\u00df\nzur\u00fcckzulegen, nahm auch von dem ganzen Gep\u00e4ck nur mein Gewehr und\nmeinen Sonnenschirm mit. Wohlbehalten kam ich gegen Abend auf meinem\nLandsitze wieder an und fand daselbst alles noch, wie ich es verlassen\nhatte. Flugs \u00fcberstieg ich den Zaun, legte mich im Schatten nieder und\nschlief, von der Hitze und dem weiten Wege erm\u00fcdet, auch bald ein. Ich\nmochte etwa eine Stunde geschlafen haben, als ich durch eine Stimme\nerweckt wurde, die mehrmals rief: \u00bbRobin, Robin, Robin Crusoe! Wo bist\ndu? Robin Crusoe, wo bist du? Wo bist du?\u00ab\n[Illustration: Gl\u00fcckliche R\u00fcckkehr nach verungl\u00fcckter Seefahrt.]\nEs war mein lieber Poll, der, auf einem Zaune sitzend, die Worte\nsprach, die ich ihn mit vieler M\u00fche gelehrt hatte, wenn der Kummer \u00fcber\nmeine Verlassenheit mich anwandelte. Ich wu\u00dfte mir nicht zu erkl\u00e4ren,\nwie das Tier hierher gekommen war; dasselbe setzte sein Geschw\u00e4tz und\nseine Schmeicheleien fort, als w\u00e4re es gl\u00fccklich, mich wieder zu haben.\nNat\u00fcrlich nahm ich den Schw\u00e4tzer ohne Verzug mit mir. -- Gern h\u00e4tte ich\nmir den Besitz des Fahrzeuges gesichert, aber ich fand kein Mittel,\ndiesen Wunsch zu verwirklichen; auch f\u00fchlte ich geringe Neigung, mich\nnoch einmal den \u00fcberstandenen Gefahren auszusetzen.\nIn ruhiger Stimmung des Gem\u00fctes und ohne besondere Wandlungen in\nmeinen Verh\u00e4ltnissen verbrachte ich fortan einige weitere Jahre. Ich\nhatte mich mit meiner Lage ausges\u00f6hnt, so da\u00df ich mich auch ohne\nmenschliche Gesellschaft leidlich gl\u00fccklich f\u00fchlte. W\u00e4hrend dieser Zeit\nvervollkommnete ich mich in vielen Handfertigkeiten, die ich in meiner\nLage glaubte besitzen zu m\u00fcssen. Es gelangen meine Zimmermannsarbeiten,\ntrotz der mangelhaften Werkzeuge, immer mehr nach Wunsch; auch die\nGer\u00e4tschaften, die aus meiner T\u00f6pferwerkstatt hervorgingen, zeigten\nnicht mehr die fr\u00fchere Unf\u00f6rmigkeit, selbst die Korbflechterei nahm\nunter meinen flei\u00dfigen H\u00e4nden einen immer h\u00f6heren Aufschwung.\nDer ernsthafteste Mensch h\u00e4tte sich eines L\u00e4chelns nicht enthalten\nk\u00f6nnen, h\u00e4tte er mich im Kreise meiner *Familie* gesehen. Vor allem\nw\u00fcrde er meine eigne, absonderlich aufgeputzte Person bewundert haben,\nmich, den K\u00f6nig der Insel, den unumschr\u00e4nkten Herrn \u00fcber Leben und Tod\naller ihrer Bewohner. Mit k\u00f6niglicher W\u00fcrde hielt ich Tafel und speiste\nin Gegenwart meines gesamten Hofstaates. Poll, mein G\u00fcnstling, geno\u00df\nallein das Vorrecht, mit mir zu sprechen, und machte davon h\u00e4ufigen\nGebrauch, wobei er sich nicht selten auf meine Schulter stellte. Mein\nHund, der alt und gebrechlich geworden war, behauptete stets, wie\nein alter erprobter Diener, den Platz zu meiner Rechten. Zwei Katzen\nwarteten zu beiden Seiten des Tisches wie ein paar Hofschranzen auf\nein Zeichen meiner Huld und schnappten begierig die Brocken auf, die\nich ihnen zuwarf. Diese zwei Tierchen mit den Samtpf\u00f6tchen waren aber\nnicht diejenigen, welche ich vom Schiffe mitgebracht hatte, denn diese\nhatte ich l\u00e4ngst mit eigner Hand in der N\u00e4he meiner Wohnung zur Erde\nbestattet. Die j\u00fcngeren Katzen, die mich jetzt umgaben, waren die\nNachkommen der ersteren. Dieses Geschlecht hatte sich in solchem Grade\nvermehrt, da\u00df es endlich eine wahre Gei\u00dfel f\u00fcr mich wurde; die Tiere\npl\u00fcnderten und hausten in meiner Wohnung schonungslos. So sah ich mich\nendlich gen\u00f6tigt, gegen sie energisch einzuschreiten und die Mehrzahl\nvon ihnen aus der Welt zu schaffen.\nW\u00e4hrend der langen Zeit meines Aufenthalts war mein Pulver so sehr\nauf die Neige gegangen, da\u00df ich ernstlich daran denken mu\u00dfte, das f\u00fcr\nmich so wertvolle Gut zu ersetzen. Wie sollte ich Ziegen und V\u00f6gel\nschie\u00dfen? Wie konnte ich mich im Falle eines Angriffs verteidigen? Bis\nauf die \u00e4u\u00dferste Not durfte ich es nicht ankommen lassen, deshalb ging\nich darauf aus, Ziegen zu *fangen*, um meinen letzten Vorrat an Pulver\nzu schonen. Besonders gern h\u00e4tte ich eine Mutter mit ihren Jungen\ngehascht, und es mochten sich vielleicht auch schon einige gefangen\nhaben, aber die Netzstricke waren nicht stark genug, und wenn ich eine\nBeute zu haben glaubte, fand ich die Schlingen zerrissen. Endlich\nversuchte ich es mit *Fallgruben* und machte an jenen Pl\u00e4tzen, wo die\nZiegen zu weiden pflegten, tiefe L\u00f6cher, legte \u00fcber diese Gruben ein\nFlechtwerk von d\u00fcnnen Ruten, streute Erde darauf und auf diese wiederum\nReis und Gerste. An der Spur der Ziegen bemerkte ich, da\u00df diese die\nK\u00f6rner gefressen hatten, und als ich am andern Morgen erwartungsvoll\nmeine Fangmaschinen besichtigte, sah ich in der That s\u00e4mtliches\nGetreide abgefressen -- aber keine Ziege gefangen. Nach einigen\nweiteren mi\u00dflungenen Versuchen hatte ich endlich doch eines Morgens die\nFreude, in einer der Gruben einen gro\u00dfen, feisten Bock, sowie in einer\nandern drei junge und zwei \u00e4ltere Ziegen und einen Bock gefangen zu\nerblicken. Der letztere, ein alter Bursche, war so wild, da\u00df ich mich\nnicht an ihn herangetraute, und ihn zu t\u00f6ten konnte nicht in meiner\nAbsicht liegen, da sein z\u00e4hes Fleisch f\u00fcr meinen Gaumen durchaus nicht\nverlockend schien. Ich gab ihm daher ohne langes Besinnen die Freiheit,\nund er floh in weiten S\u00e4tzen davon.\nDamals dachte ich freilich noch nicht daran, da\u00df der Hunger selbst\neinen L\u00f6wen z\u00e4hmen kann; h\u00e4tte ich den Bock nur drei bis vier Tage\nhungern lassen, ihm dann Wasser und gr\u00fcnes Futter gegeben, so w\u00fcrde\ner gewi\u00df zahm geworden sein wie ein Lamm. Meine Zicklein nahm ich\neines nach dem andern aus der Grube, band sie mit Stricken aneinander\nund trieb sie nach Hause. Anfangs wollten sie durchaus nicht fressen;\nals ich sie jedoch ein paar Tage hatte hungern lassen und ihnen dann\nsaftige Kr\u00e4uter vorhielt, lie\u00dfen sie sich zum Fressen verlocken und\nwurden in kurzer Zeit zahm.\nDas war der erste Anfang zu meiner Ziegenherde, und ich sah schon im\nGeiste der Zeit entgegen, wo ich, ohne Pulver und Blei n\u00f6tig zu haben,\nfortw\u00e4hrend mit Ziegenfleisch versorgt sein w\u00fcrde. Freilich dr\u00e4ngte\nsich mir bei dieser frohen Aussicht der Gedanke an einen leidigen\n\u00dcbelstand auf. Da ich n\u00e4mlich um jeden Preis zu verh\u00fcten hatte, da\u00df die\nTiere mit ihren Br\u00fcdern im Thale und in den W\u00e4ldern zusammentr\u00e4fen, so\nmu\u00dfte ich einen Park von Hecken oder Palissaden errichten, damit weder\nmeine zahmen Ziegen entfliehen, noch die wilden von au\u00dfen hereinbrechen\nkonnten.\nWer in der Errichtung solcher Gehege einige \u00dcbung besitzt, w\u00fcrde sich\nkaum eines L\u00e4chelns haben enthalten k\u00f6nnen, h\u00e4tte er gesehen, wie ich\nzu meiner ersten H\u00fcrdenanlage eine jener gro\u00dfen Wiesen aussuchte, die\nman in den L\u00e4ndern des Westens Savannen nennt.\nEinige klare B\u00e4che schl\u00e4ngelten sich durch den Wiesengrund, an dessen\neinem Ende schattige B\u00e4ume standen; um aber diese Wiese mit einem Zaune\nzu umgeben, bedurfte es einer Reihe Palissaden von beinahe einer halben\nMeile Ausdehnung. Hierbei bedachte ich allerdings nicht, da\u00df in einem\nso gro\u00dfen Umkreis die Ziegen ebenso schwer zu fangen sein mu\u00dften, als\nwenn sie frei auf der ganzen Insel h\u00e4tten umherlaufen d\u00fcrfen.\nSchon hatte ich etwa 150 Schritte fertig, als mir dieser Gedanke\nnachtr\u00e4glich beikam. Ich beschlo\u00df deshalb, nur ungef\u00e4hr 200 Schritt\neinzufriedigen, was f\u00fcr eine Herde, wie ich sie in einiger Zeit haben\nkonnte, wohl gen\u00fcgen mochte. Nach Vollendung jener Arbeit, welche drei\nMonate in Anspruch nahm, waren meine Ziegen schon so zahm geworden,\nda\u00df sie mir \u00fcberallhin folgten und mir aus der Hand fra\u00dfen. Binnen\nzehn Monaten hatte sich meine Herde bis auf zw\u00f6lf St\u00fcck junge und alte\nvergr\u00f6\u00dfert, in zwei Jahren war sie auf 43 gestiegen, obgleich ich\nmehrere davon zu meinem Lebensunterhalt geschlachtet hatte.\nNicht allein Fleisch hatte ich nun im \u00dcberflu\u00df, auch Milch hatte\nmeine Speisekammer mehr wie ausreichend aufzuweisen. Nach einigen\nvergeblichen Versuchen lernte ich sogar Butter und K\u00e4se machen, da\nich auch Salz gefunden hatte, was durch Verdunstung von Seewasser in\nVertiefungen am Meeresufer sich in Krusten gebildet hatte.\nDie gr\u00f6\u00dfte Beeintr\u00e4chtigung erfuhr meine W\u00fcrde als Herr des Insellandes\ndurch die Beschaffenheit meiner Kleidung. Mein Anzug w\u00fcrde in jedem\nvon Menschen bewohnten Lande die gr\u00f6\u00dfte Heiterkeit oder vielleicht\nauch Furcht erregt haben. Als Kopfbedeckung trug ich eine hohe\naus Ziegenfell gefertigte M\u00fctze mit einem Zipfel, der bis auf die\nSchultern fiel, um mich vor der Sonne und vor Regen zu sch\u00fctzen. Rock\nund Beinkleider stammten gleichfalls von Ziegen her, und meine F\u00fc\u00dfe\nsch\u00fctzte ich durch eine Art Sandalen, die an der Seite festgehalten\nwurden. Den Rock hielt ein Gurt von Leder zusammen, in welchem statt\ndes Degens eine Axt und eine S\u00e4ge hingen. Ein andres umgeh\u00e4ngtes\nBand diente dazu, um meine mit Pulver und Schrot gef\u00fcllten Taschen\nfestzuhalten. In einem Tragkorbe befanden sich meine Lebensmittel,\nmeine Flinte hing \u00fcber der Schulter, und au\u00dferdem hatte ich noch meinen\nSonnenschirm zu halten, der sich mir als ganz unentbehrlich zeigte.\nWas meine Gesichtsfarbe betrifft, so war sie nicht so braun, als man\nbei dem hei\u00dfen Klima vermuten m\u00f6chte. Das kam nat\u00fcrlich daher, da\u00df ich\nmeinen Regen- und Sonnenschirm immer bei mir f\u00fchrte, auch wenn ich mich\nnur eine kleine Strecke von meiner Wohnung entfernte.\nJedenfalls war ich in jeder Beziehung ein Landesherr, der\nseinesgleichen suchen konnte.\n[Illustration: Robinsons Ziegenherde.]\nNeuntes Kapitel.\nRobinson entdeckt Spuren von Menschen.\n  Neuer Ausflug auf Entdeckungen. -- Menschliche Spuren. -- Robinsons\n  Bangen. -- Untersuchung der Fu\u00dfspuren. -- Allerlei seltsame Gedanken.\nMit allem Notwendigen ausger\u00fcstet, begann ich einen neuen Ausflug, auf\nden ich f\u00fcnf bis sechs Tage zu verwenden gedachte. Mein erster Weg\nf\u00fchrte mich an jenen Ort, wo ich meinen Anker ausgeworfen hatte, um\ndie Felsen zu ersteigen und die Gegend zu \u00fcberblicken. Auch diesmal\nerstieg ich die H\u00f6he und gewahrte zu meinem Erstaunen, da\u00df die See\nglatt war wie ein Spiegel, nirgends vermochte ich eine Brandung zu\nentdecken. Diese befremdliche Erscheinung hatte jedenfalls ihren\nnat\u00fcrlichen Grund in der abwechselnden Bewegung der Ebbe und Flut. Da\nich mir jedoch dar\u00fcber noch nicht ganz klar war, so wollte ich wie\nein Naturforscher der Sache auf den Grund gehen. Ich stieg deshalb\ngegen Abend, als es bereits d\u00e4mmerte und die Ebbe eintrat, hinauf\nauf den H\u00fcgel und sah auch jetzt wieder ganz deutlich die ungest\u00fcme\nStr\u00f6mung. Zugleich bemerkte ich aber, da\u00df dieselbe eine halbe Stunde\nvon der K\u00fcste entfernt schien, w\u00e4hrend sie fr\u00fcher dicht an der Sandbank\nhinlief. Auf diese Beobachtungen gest\u00fctzt, sagte ich mir, da\u00df ich die\nInsel ohne Schwierigkeit mit meinem kleinen Fahrzeug umschiffen k\u00f6nnte,\nwenn ich nur genau auf die Wiederkehr der Flut und Ebbe achtete. Indes\nhatten die \u00fcberstandenen Gefahren einen so nachhaltigen Eindruck in mir\nzur\u00fcckgelassen, da\u00df ich f\u00fcr jetzt auf das Wagnis einer neuen Seefahrt\nverzichtete. Es kam mir nun ein ganz entgegengesetzter, wenn auch\nh\u00f6chst m\u00fchselig auszuf\u00fchrender Plan in den Sinn.\nSollte es nicht m\u00f6glich sein, mir eine neue Piroge zu bauen, um auf\njeder K\u00fcste meiner Insel ein Fahrzeug zu besitzen?\nIch hatte damals sozusagen zwei Pflanzungen. Zun\u00e4chst war es am\nFu\u00dfe des Felsens und in der N\u00e4he des Ufers mein Zelt oder meine\nBurg samt Einz\u00e4unung und H\u00f6hle hinter dem Zelte. Letztere hatte ich\nallm\u00e4hlich vergr\u00f6\u00dfert und neue Gem\u00e4cher geschaffen, worin ich meine\nVorr\u00e4te, namentlich das Erzeugnis meiner Ernten, in zahlreichen\ngro\u00dfen K\u00f6rben aufbewahrte. Im Verlauf der Jahre waren die Pf\u00e4hle der\nzweiten Umhegung, die, wie ich erw\u00e4hnte, Zweige getrieben hatten,\nbereits zu stattlichen B\u00e4umen angewachsen und ihre \u00c4ste so ineinander\nverschlungen, da\u00df man selbst in ziemlicher N\u00e4he hinter diesem gr\u00fcnen\nFlechtwerk keine menschliche Wohnung bemerkt h\u00e4tte. Etwas weiter in\ndas Land hinein lagen meine beiden Kornfelder, auf deren Bebauung ich\nstets den gr\u00f6\u00dften Flei\u00df verwandte, so da\u00df ich j\u00e4hrlich durch reichliche\nErnten belohnt wurde.\nEine weitere Pflanzung hatte ich mir noch in der N\u00e4he meines Landhauses\nangelegt. Auch dort, in jenem reizenden Thale, wuchs die gr\u00fcne Hecke\nstattlich empor und gew\u00e4hrte erquickenden Schatten. In der Mitte\nspannte sich das Zelt von Segeltuch aus, und die Ziegenfelle, welche\nich dorthin gebracht hatte, boten ein weiches Lager, w\u00e4hrend eine\nwollene Decke und ein gro\u00dfer Mantel mir w\u00e4hrend der k\u00fchlen N\u00e4chte\nzum Zudecken dienten. So konnte ich hier, wenn ich mein \u00bbSchlo\u00df\u00ab auf\neinige Zeit mit dem Lusthaus vertauschen wollte, mehrere Tage in aller\nBequemlichkeit zubringen.\nGanz in der N\u00e4he des Landhauses hatte ich, wie bereits erw\u00e4hnt, die\nEinz\u00e4unungen f\u00fcr meinen Viehstand angebracht. Die best\u00e4ndige Sorge,\nda\u00df mir die Ziegen einmal ausbrechen m\u00f6chten, lie\u00df mir keine Ruhe,\nbis ich das Palissadenwerk so dicht gemacht hatte, da\u00df man kaum\neine Hand hindurchstecken konnte. Als gar w\u00e4hrend der Regenzeit die\nRuten und St\u00e4be ausschlugen, bot dieses Gehege den Vorteil einer\nundurchdringlichen Mauer.\nIn demselben Thale befanden sich auch die Weinst\u00f6cke, welche mir\nbetr\u00e4chtliche Vorr\u00e4te f\u00fcr den Winter lieferten, und da die wertvollen\nReben meine Tafel mit den saftigsten Beeren versahen, so vers\u00e4umte ich\nnie, zur geh\u00f6rigen Zeit die Trauben zu trocknen.\nEines Tages \u00fcberkam mich wieder die Lust zu einem Ausflug nach der Ost-\nund Nordseite meiner Insel, und ich wollte im Vorbeigehen auch nach\nmeiner Barke sehen.\nZun\u00e4chst begab ich mich an jenen H\u00fcgel, von welchem aus ich meine\nBeobachtungen angestellt hatte; dann wartete ich die Ebbe ab, um bei\nniedrigem Wasserstande \u00fcber die M\u00fcndung des Baches zu gelangen, der\nam Fu\u00dfe des H\u00fcgels hinflo\u00df. Anfangs hielt ich mich l\u00e4ngs des Ufers\ndesselben, dann aber bog ich nordw\u00e4rts ab und kam so gegen Abend an\neinen Flu\u00df, der bei weitem bedeutender war als alle \u00fcbrigen, welche ich\nbisher aufgefunden hatte. Diesen passierte ich schwimmend und befand\nmich bald an der K\u00fcste, die sich hier sehr wild und \u00f6de, teils h\u00fcgelig,\nteils felsig und nur mit Gestr\u00fcpp bewachsen zeigte.\nSchon brach die Nacht herein, als ich endlich mein Fahrzeug auffand;\nich machte es mir darin so bequem als m\u00f6glich und war, von dem Ereignis\ndes heutigen Tages befriedigt, bald in tiefen Schlaf versunken.\nKaum hatte mich die Morgensonne aus meinem Schlummer erweckt, als ich\nwohlgemut meine Reise weiter fortsetzte. Nachdem ich einige Meilen\nzur\u00fcckgelegt hatte, wurde mir eine \u00dcberraschung zu teil, die mich\nin die peinlichste und f\u00fcr die Folge auch sch\u00e4dlichste Aufregung\nversetzte: ich sah im Sande die deutliche Spur eines -- *Menschenfu\u00dfes*.\n[Illustration: Ein Menschenfu\u00df!]\nEigentlich h\u00e4tte ich mich freuen sollen, nach so langer Einsamkeit\neinmal die Spur eines menschlichen Wesens zu treffen; mein erster\nGedanke galt jedoch den Wilden, den Menschenfressern, die, wie fr\u00fcher\nerw\u00e4hnt, die benachbarten Gebiete oder Inseln bewohnen sollten. Wie vom\nBlitz getroffen, blieb ich beim Anblick des Fu\u00dfabdrucks stehen; ich\nlauschte, ich blickte umher, sah und h\u00f6rte aber nicht das Geringste.\nIch bestieg in der N\u00e4he einen kleinen H\u00fcgel, von welchem aus ich einen\ngr\u00f6\u00dferen Raum \u00fcberblicken konnte; dann ging ich wieder an das Ufer des\nMeeres hinab und durchlief die K\u00fcste von einer Seite zur andern, um\nzu sehen, ob noch andre Fu\u00dftritte im Sande abgedr\u00fcckt w\u00e4ren, aber ich\nkonnte nichts entdecken. Hierauf untersuchte ich die zuerst erblickte\nSpur noch einmal, um mich zu vergewissern, ob mich vielleicht meine\nSinne get\u00e4uscht h\u00e4tten. Allein Zehen, Ferse, Ballen, kurz alle Teile\neines Menschenfu\u00dfes waren nur zu deutlich abgedr\u00fcckt. Woher mochte\ndiese Spur kommen?\nEs schien fast unm\u00f6glich, dieses Geheimnis zu entr\u00e4tseln. Entsetzen\ndurchfuhr meine Glieder, wenn ich an die kaum mehr zu bezweifelnde N\u00e4he\nvon Kannibalenhorden dachte, und in \u00e4u\u00dferster Verwirrung schlug ich den\nHeimweg ein. Jetzt erschrak ich vor jedem Strauche, vor jedem Baume\nund f\u00fcrchtete bei dem Rascheln eines Blattes einen Wilden auf mich\nlosst\u00fcrzen zu sehen. In halber Besinnungslosigkeit traf ich endlich\nwieder in meiner Burg ein, ohne da\u00df ich mich nachtr\u00e4glich besinnen\nkonnte, ob ich auf der Leiter oder durch die Felsenth\u00fcr hereingekommen\nwar. Kein Fuchs sucht hastiger seinen Bau auf, als ich nach meinem\nZufluchtsorte eilte.\nVor Sorgen vermochte ich die ganze Nacht kein Auge zuzudr\u00fccken. Meine\nerregte Einbildungskraft erschreckte mich durch die furchtbarsten\nTrugbilder, und ich glaubte sogar einen Augenblick, da\u00df jene Spur\nvon dem leibhaftigen Gottseibeiuns herr\u00fchre. Konnte denn irgend ein\nmenschliches Gesch\u00f6pf ohne Fahrzeug meine Insel erreichen? Wo aber war\nirgend ein Schiff zu sehen, und wie kam es, da\u00df ich nur eine einzige\nFu\u00dfspur entdeckte, da doch der Boden ringsum ganz dieselbe sandige und\nlockere Fl\u00e4che zeigte?\nDie Fu\u00dfspur im Sande kam mir nicht aus dem Sinn. Konnten aber nicht\ndie Kannibalen von jenem Festlande, welches ich gesehen hatte, durch\nirgend welchen Zufall auf meine Insel verschlagen worden sein?\nVielleicht f\u00fchlten sie, da sie gerade an dem \u00f6desten Teile der Insel\nlandeten, kein sonderliches Behagen, hier H\u00fctten zu bauen; sie konnten\ndann sehr wahrscheinlich meine Piroge gesehen und hieraus geschlossen\nhaben, da\u00df die Insel von Menschen bewohnt sei. Wie, wenn sie nun in\ngr\u00f6\u00dferer Anzahl von neuem erschienen, mich gefangen nahmen und nach\nihrer barbarischen Weise schlachteten und verzehrten? Oder, wenn auch\ndas nicht, so konnten sie doch meine Ziegen wegf\u00fchren, meine Felder\nzerst\u00f6ren und mich meiner Vorr\u00e4te berauben.\nSolche und \u00e4hnliche Gedanken marterten meinen Geist drei Tage und drei\nN\u00e4chte lang, und ich wagte nicht, nur einen Schritt weit von meiner\nFelsenburg mich zu entfernen. Indessen gingen meine Vorr\u00e4te an Wasser,\nMilch und Gerstenkuchen v\u00f6llig zu Ende, und ebenso notwendig, als\ndiese zu ersetzen waren, mu\u00dfte ich meine Ziegen melken, weil sonst zu\nbef\u00fcrchten stand, da\u00df ihnen die Milch vergehen m\u00f6chte. Da half kein\nZaudern mehr, und so schwer es mir auch ankam, wieder landeinw\u00e4rts zu\ngehen, so mu\u00dfte ich mich doch der Notwendigkeit f\u00fcgen. Nachdem ich\neinige Schritte gegangen war, wurde ich etwas beherzter, ja ich fing\nan, mich \u00fcber meine Zaghaftigkeit selbst auszuschelten. Dann endlich an\nOrt und Stelle angekommen, melkte ich meine Ziegen, welche mich schon\nl\u00e4ngst erwartet zu haben schienen.\nEinige Tage verlebte ich hier, ohne da\u00df ich etwas Besonderes bemerkt\nh\u00e4tte. Ich streifte wieder mit meiner Flinte umher, besichtigte meine\nPflanzungen und melkte meine Ziegen wie zuvor; aber meine fr\u00fchere\nRuhe und Unbefangenheit waren dahin. \u00bbDie Fu\u00dfspur! die Fu\u00dfspur!\u00ab Ich\nmu\u00dfte Gewi\u00dfheit dar\u00fcber haben, ob ich den Abdruck meines eignen oder\neines fremden Fu\u00dfes gesehen habe. Zu meiner Beruhigung entschlo\u00df ich\nmich endlich, noch einmal an Ort und Stelle eine genaue Besichtigung\nvorzunehmen. Als ich aber den Ort des Schreckens erreichte, \u00fcberzeugte\nich mich zun\u00e4chst, da\u00df ich bei meiner Landung mit dem Boote unm\u00f6glich\ndiese Gegend ber\u00fchrt haben konnte, denn sie lag jedenfalls weit davon\nentfernt. Nachdem ich vollends die r\u00e4tselhafte Spur mit meinem Fu\u00dfe\ngemessen hatte, ergab sich's deutlich, da\u00df sie viel l\u00e4nger und breiter\nwar. Nun stellte es sich f\u00fcr mich als klar und unumst\u00f6\u00dflich heraus: das\nMerkmal r\u00fchrte von einem fremden und sicherlich wilden Menschen her.\nBei dieser Entdeckung bem\u00e4chtigte sich meiner von neuem Angst und\nBangen, eisiger Frost sch\u00fcttelte mich wie einen Fieberkranken;\nich wu\u00dfte nicht, was ich beginnen sollte. Die Furcht gab mir die\nunsinnigsten Gedanken ein.\nIm ersten Augenblick wollte ich meine Umz\u00e4unungen niederrei\u00dfen und\nall mein Vieh in den Wald hinauslassen, aus Furcht, da\u00df es der\nunbekannte Feind finden und verlockt werden m\u00f6chte, \u00f6fter hierher\nzur\u00fcckzukehren. Dann wollte ich meine Pflanzungen, mein Zelt und\ndas sch\u00fctzende W\u00e4ldchen vernichten, um jede Spur einer menschlichen\nWohnung zu tilgen. Die Verwirrung meiner Gedanken hielt mich die ganze\nNacht munter, und erst gegen Morgen schlief ich bis zum Tode ermattet\nein. Als ich erwachte, dachte ich weniger befangen \u00fcber meine Lage\nnach. Endlich kam ich zu dem Schlu\u00df, da\u00df die anmutige und fruchtbare,\nnur in m\u00e4\u00dfiger Entfernung vom Festland gelegene Insel nicht so ganz\nverlassen sein k\u00f6nne, als es mir bis jetzt vorgekommen, und da\u00df sie\nwenigstens mitunter von Wilden, die entweder freiwillig oder gezwungen\nmit ihren Kanoes hier landeten, besucht w\u00fcrde. Zwar hatte ich seit\nden *f\u00fcnfzehn Jahren* meines Aufenthalts auf dieser Insel noch keinen\neinzigen Menschen gesehen; doch mochte dies ohne Zweifel daher r\u00fchren,\nda\u00df diejenigen, welche aus irgend einem Grunde hierher kamen, keine\nVeranlassung fanden, l\u00e4nger zu verweilen. Die einzige Gefahr f\u00fcr mich\nwar eine zuf\u00e4llige Landung herumstreifender Menschen vom Festlande. Da\nes aber wahrscheinlich war, da\u00df diese nicht leicht aus eignem Antriebe\ndie Insel besuchen w\u00fcrden, so beeilten sie sich auch wohl, dieselbe\nschnell zu verlassen, und mochten sich nicht einmal eine Nacht an der\nK\u00fcste aufhalten, aus Furcht, die g\u00fcnstige Str\u00f6mung und die Tageshelle\nzur R\u00fcckfahrt entbehren zu m\u00fcssen. Sonach hatte ich also f\u00fcr den Fall,\nda\u00df die Anwesenheit von Wilden au\u00dfer allem Zweifel stand, nichts weiter\nzu thun, als mich in meine Festung zur\u00fcckzuziehen und mich hinter den\nW\u00e4llen still zu verhalten.\nTrotz solcher beruhigenden Erw\u00e4gungen steigerten Zweifel meine Unruhe\nund Angst. Mein Vertrauen auf die allwaltende G\u00fcte Gottes war dahin;\nTr\u00fcbsal und Verwirrung umschatteten meinen Geist so sehr, da\u00df er sich\nnicht aufzurichten vermochte in einem Gebet zu dem, der da spricht:\n\u00bbRufe mich an in der Not, und ich will dich erretten.\u00ab H\u00e4tte ich nur\nauf diese Stimme geh\u00f6rt und den Herrn in meiner Not angerufen, so\nw\u00e4ren sicherlich fester Mut und gr\u00f6\u00dfere Beharrlichkeit in meine Seele\neingezogen; Zaghaftigkeit und Furcht, die alle meine Sinne gefangen\nhielten, w\u00fcrden dann niedergek\u00e4mpft worden sein.\nJetzt bereute ich es, da\u00df ich mir einen Ausgang aus meiner H\u00f6hle\ngegraben hatte, der nicht durch Verschanzungen gesichert war. Ich\nnahm mir daher sogleich vor, in einiger Entfernung von der Mauer eine\nzweite Palissadierung im Halbkreise aufzuf\u00fchren, gerade da, wo ich vor\nzw\u00f6lf Jahren eine doppelte Reihe von B\u00e4umen angepflanzt hatte. Diese\nstanden ohnehin schon dicht genug, da\u00df es nicht mehr viel bedurfte,\num die Zwischenr\u00e4ume zwischen ihnen auszuf\u00fcllen, so da\u00df nach wenigen\nJahren ein undurchdringliches Gehege emporwuchs. So sch\u00fctzte mich eine\ndoppelte Mauer, und die \u00e4u\u00dfere lie\u00df sich noch durch Bohlen, alte Taue,\nSchutt und Erdreich verst\u00e4rken. Diesen Wall f\u00fchrte ich nicht nur \u00fcber\nden Ausgang, sondern auch \u00fcber die Quelle hinaus, um nie Gefahr zu\nlaufen, da\u00df es mir an Wasser mangle.\nNachdem dies alles geschehen war, besteckte ich den ganzen Abhang der\nkleinen Wiese vor meinem zweiten Befestigungswerke mit mehr als 2000\nSch\u00f6\u00dflingen von jenem weiden\u00e4hnlichen Holze, lie\u00df aber \u00fcberall zwischen\ndenselben und meinem Baumwall einen betr\u00e4chtlichen freien Raum, damit\nich den Feind herankommen sehen, er aber hinter den jungen B\u00e4umen kein\nVersteck finden konnte. Schon nach drei bis vier Jahren war das Geh\u00f6lz\num meine Festung so dicht, da\u00df es in der That undurchdringlich schien\nund kein Mensch hinter diesem Geb\u00fcsch eine menschliche Wohnung vermuten\nkonnte. Da ich keinen Weg nach meinem Schlosse offen gelassen hatte, so\ngelangte ich \u00fcber den \u00e4u\u00dferen Wall nicht anders als mit Hilfe zweier\nLeitern.\nDie eine lehnte ich gegen einen sehr hohen Teil des Felsens, auf dem\nich die zweite unterbringen konnte. Waren beide Leitern weggenommen,\nso konnte kein Mensch zu mir gelangen, ohne sich der gr\u00f6\u00dften\nGefahr auszusetzen. In der inneren Verschanzung brachte ich sieben\nSchie\u00dfl\u00f6cher an, nicht gr\u00f6\u00dfer als n\u00f6tig, um den Arm durchzustecken;\nau\u00dferdem verst\u00e4rkte ich diesen Wall bis auf drei Meter, indem ich\ndagegen Erde aufsch\u00fcttete, die ich aus der H\u00f6hle schaffte und mit den\nF\u00fc\u00dfen feststampfte. In jene sieben \u00d6ffnungen brachte ich sieben mir\nnoch \u00fcbrig gebliebene Musketen, richtete Gestelle f\u00fcr sie auf, auf\ndenen sie so ruhten, wie Kanonen auf ihren Lafetten, und ich war somit\nim stande, alle meine Gewehre binnen einer Minute abzuschie\u00dfen.\nAuf diese Weise hatte ich alle Ma\u00dfregeln ergriffen, welche die\nKlugheit eingeben konnte, und ich fand sp\u00e4ter, da\u00df sie mir von Nutzen\nwaren. W\u00e4hrend dieser Arbeit vers\u00e4umte ich jedoch meine \u00fcbrigen\nAngelegenheiten nicht; besonders war ich um meine Ziegenherde besorgt.\nVerschiedene kleine Rasenpl\u00e4tze, mit hohen, dichten W\u00e4ldern umz\u00e4unt,\nboten einen geeigneten Park f\u00fcr meine Herden, und dies erschien mir um\nso ratsamer, als ich dann nur wenig mittels Einz\u00e4unung nachzuhelfen\nbrauchte. Nach einem Monat hatte ich diese Hecken vollendet und trieb\nnun zehn junge Ziegen und zwei B\u00f6cke dorthin.\nF\u00fcr die Sicherheit eines Teiles meiner lebendigen Vorr\u00e4te war jetzt\ngesorgt. Nun durchstreifte ich die Insel, um einen Platz ausfindig zu\nmachen, der sich zu einem Reservepark umschaffen lie\u00dfe. Bei diesen\nWanderungen drang ich weiter, als dies bisher geschehen war, gegen die\nwestliche Spitze der Insel vor, und als ich meine Augen auf die See\nhinausrichtete, kam es mir vor, als schaukle ein Boot auf den Wellen.\nIch war jetzt an einer Stelle der Insel, die ich bis dahin noch nicht\nbetreten hatte. Wer aber malt mein Entsetzen, als ich mich hier\numschaute! Jetzt fand ich mit einem Mal Aufkl\u00e4rung \u00fcber jene Fu\u00dfspur,\nund zwar in einer Art, die meine vormalige Furcht v\u00f6llig rechtfertigte.\nRingsum sah ich das Ufer mit Hirnsch\u00e4deln, Arm- und Fu\u00dfknochen und\nandern menschlichen K\u00f6rperteilen bedeckt. Besonders fiel mir ein\nKreis in die Augen, den die Kannibalen in die Erde gegraben hatten,\num wahrscheinlich innerhalb desselben bei einem gro\u00dfen Feuer ihre\nabscheulichen Festmahlzeiten abzuhalten.\n[Illustration: Die Reste der Kannibalenmahlzeit.]\nDieser Anblick ersch\u00fctterte mich so, da\u00df ich im Augenblick an die eigne\nGefahr gar nicht dachte. Mein ganzes Gef\u00fchl emp\u00f6rte sich gegen eine\nsolche Entartung der menschlichen Natur. Dieser Platz war mir fortan\nein Ort des Grauens, und ich eilte, so schnell mich meine Beine trugen,\nnach meiner Wohnung zur\u00fcck. Als ich eine halbe Meile gelaufen, blieb\nich pl\u00f6tzlich stillstehen, um meine Gedanken zu sammeln. Mit thr\u00e4nenden\nAugen blickte ich zum Himmel empor und dankte Gott aus der innersten\nTiefe meines Herzens, da\u00df er mich unter Menschen geboren werden lie\u00df,\nwo solche Abscheulichkeiten nicht vorkommen. Ebenso dankte ich auch der\nVorsehung, da\u00df sie mich an derjenigen Seite der Insel stranden lie\u00df,\nwo jene Kannibalen nur h\u00f6chst selten, ja vielleicht niemals landeten,\nund da\u00df trotz meiner \u00f6fteren Hin- und Herz\u00fcge in und um das Land\nmeine Anwesenheit von ihnen noch nicht bemerkt worden war. Beherrscht\nvon dieser trostreichen Stimmung, setzte ich meinen Gang fort und\nkam endlich in meiner Burg wieder an, weit mehr beruhigt \u00fcber meine\nSicherheit als zuvor.\nDieses Gef\u00fchl der Sicherheit dauerte indes nicht lange; die Unruhe nahm\nwieder \u00fcberhand, und ich verhielt mich fast zwei Jahre lang in meinen\nWohnungen gleichsam wie ein Gefangener, kaum da\u00df ich mich zu meinen\ndrei Pflanzungen, meinem Lusthause und meiner Weide im Walde hinwagte,\nwelche letztere ich nur besuchte, um Ziegen zu fangen. In best\u00e4ndiger\nBesorgnis, da\u00df die Wilden meinen Aufenthalt auswittern m\u00f6chten, suchte\nich alles zu vermeiden, was ihnen die Spur meines Verweilens verraten\nkonnte.\nVor allen Dingen unterlie\u00df ich es jetzt, ein Feuergewehr abzuschie\u00dfen,\nweil ich bef\u00fcrchtete, von den Wilden geh\u00f6rt zu werden. Aber ein ander\nDing war es mit dem Rauch, der aus meinem Versteck aufstieg! Wie leicht\nkonnte er mich den Falkenaugen der Kannibalen verraten! Wenn ich daher\nBrot zu backen oder irdene Geschirre zu brennen hatte, so wendete ich\nHolzkohlen an. Ich hatte n\u00e4mlich als Knabe in der Heimat gesehen,\nwie man Holz unter Torferde anz\u00fcndete und durch Gl\u00fchen in Kohlen\nverwandelte. Dieses Verfahren wandte ich jetzt an und vermied dadurch\ndas Aufsteigen des Rauches.\nAuch ging ich w\u00e4hrend dieser Zeit nicht mehr aus, um nach meinem\nKanoe zu sehen; denn unter den jetzigen Umst\u00e4nden durfte ich nicht\ndaran denken, das andre Fahrzeug zur\u00fcckzuholen. Stets unternahm ich\nmeine Ausfl\u00fcge nur unter dem Schutze von zwei oder drei Pistolen\nsowie eines Degens, zu welchem ich mir ein eignes Bandelier gemacht\nhatte. Man wird mir wohl glauben, da\u00df ich in diesem Aufzuge im stande\nwar, einigerma\u00dfen Furcht einzufl\u00f6\u00dfen. Auf der R\u00fcckseite des bekannten\nH\u00fcgels fand ich einen Ort, wo ich die Wilden, falls sie landen sollten,\nvon ihnen unbemerkt beobachten, mich auch durch das dichte Geb\u00fcsch\nheranschleichen, in einem hohlen Baume verbergen und ihrem barbarischen\nTreiben zuschauen konnte. Da stellte ich mir denn einige zwanzig\nMenschen vor, die unter meinen Kugeln oder Hieben zu Boden st\u00fcrzten;\ndie umherliegenden Sch\u00e4del und Gebeine steigerten nur noch meinen\nRachedurst.\nJede meiner Musketen lud ich mit vier bis f\u00fcnf gr\u00f6\u00dferen Kugeln, die\nJagdflinte mit grobem Schrot und die Pistolen mit drei bis vier\nkleineren Kugeln. Nachdem ich alles zu einem Kriegszuge ausger\u00fcstet\nhatte, wanderte ich jeden Morgen auf einen H\u00fcgel, der ungef\u00e4hr eine\nMeile von meiner Burg entfernt war, um zu beobachten, ob sich nicht ein\nBoot auf der See zeige, das nach meiner Insel zusteuere. Drei bis vier\nMonate lang hielt ich hier Tag f\u00fcr Tag Wache und sp\u00e4hte auf das Meer\nhinaus, ohne auch nur die geringste Spur eines Fahrzeugs zu entdecken.\n-- Nach so vielen fruchtlosen Bem\u00fchungen war es nat\u00fcrlich, da\u00df sich\nmein Eifer abk\u00fchlte; eine andre Anschauung der Verh\u00e4ltnisse gewann in\nmir die Oberhand.\nWer, so fragte ich mich selbst, hatte mich denn zum Richter \u00fcber diese\nMenschen gesetzt, die noch g\u00e4nzlich ihren grausamen Gewohnheiten\nergeben vielleicht der Meinung leben, sie verrichten eine ihrer\nGottheit gef\u00e4llige Handlung? Ist es doch bei diesen V\u00f6lkern\nKriegsbrauch, welchen sie seit alten Zeiten von ihren V\u00e4tern ererbt\nhaben, Gefangene mit sich zu f\u00fchren und sie zu t\u00f6ten, und scheint es\nihnen doch ebensowenig strafw\u00fcrdig, als wenn wir ein unschuldiges Tier\nschlachten.\nAllerdings geben sich die Wilden einem blutd\u00fcrstigen G\u00f6tzendienste hin,\nwelcher Menschenopfer fordert; aber ist diese Barbarei zu vergleichen\nmit den Greueln, welche die Spanier in Mexiko und in Peru ver\u00fcbt\nhatten, wo sie ganze V\u00f6lkerschaften vertilgten? Als ich daran dachte,\nwas mir mein Vater aus jenen grausamen Zeiten erz\u00e4hlt hatte, wurde\nich milder gegen die ungl\u00fccklichen Kannibalen gestimmt, und ich fand\nes selbst von meiner Seite unmenschlich, sie in feindseliger Absicht\nanzugreifen, solange sie mich nur selbst in Ruhe lie\u00dfen.\nAu\u00dferdem h\u00e4tte ich wahrscheinlich durch ein allzu rasches Handeln\nmeinen eignen Untergang herbeigef\u00fchrt. Denn gesetzt, es w\u00e4re eine\nAnzahl von 30 Wilden auf mich eingest\u00fcrmt, war ich denn wirklich so\nsicher, sie alle zu t\u00f6ten? Ja, wenn nur ein einziger mir entkam, um\nseinen Kriegsgef\u00e4hrten in der Heimat Kunde zu bringen, so landeten\nbald Hunderte, vielleicht Tausende, um den Tod ihrer gefallenen\nFreunde zu r\u00e4chen. Aus alledem zog ich den Schlu\u00df, da\u00df die Klugheit\nund die Menschlichkeit mir in gleicher Weise verb\u00f6ten, mich in die\nAngelegenheiten jener halbtierischen Menschen \u00fcberhaupt zu mischen.\nDie Religion vereinigte sich mit der Besonnenheit, um mich zu\n\u00fcberzeugen, da\u00df meine grausamen Entw\u00fcrfe gegen die Wilden, die mir\nnoch nie etwas zuleide gethan hatten, meinen Pflichten durchaus\nzuwiderliefen. Ich hatte jetzt alle Ursache, Gott auf den Knieen daf\u00fcr\nzu danken, da\u00df er mich nicht eine That begehen lie\u00df, die ich nunmehr\nf\u00fcr einen Menschenmord ansah. Ich flehte zu Gott, mich vor diesen\nBarbaren zu bewahren, und gelobte mir, nur dann Hand an sie zu legen,\nwenn meine Selbstverteidigung dies erforderte. Bei solchen Gesinnungen\nbeharrte ich fast ein ganzes Jahr und war so wenig gegen die schlimmen\nNachbarn ungehalten, da\u00df ich w\u00e4hrend dieser Zeit nicht einmal den H\u00fcgel\nbestieg, um zu sehen, ob sich ihre Fahrzeuge in der Ferne zeigten oder\nob sie k\u00fcrzlich auf der Insel gewesen w\u00e4ren.\n*Achtzehn* Jahre lebte ich nun schon auf meiner Insel, und noch hatte\nich nicht mehr als einen einzigen Fu\u00dfabdruck im Sande und die Reste\neiner Blutmahlzeit angetroffen. Ich durfte daher wohl annehmen, da\u00df\ndie Besuche der Wilden auf dem Eilande sehr selten stattfanden und\nda\u00df ich auch in der Folgezeit unentdeckt bleiben w\u00fcrde. Mein kleines\nBoot schaffte ich auf die \u00f6stliche Spitze der Insel in eine durch\nFelsen gesch\u00fctzte Bucht, wohin die Fremden wegen der widrigen Str\u00f6mung\nnicht gelangen konnten. Inzwischen war mein Vorrat an Kohlen zu\nEnde gegangen, und ich mu\u00dfte darauf bedacht sein, denselben wieder\nzu erneuern. Deshalb wanderte ich in jenes Felsenthal, wo meine\nZiegenherden untergebracht waren und wo ich in einer H\u00f6hle am Fu\u00dfe\neines Berges einen passenden Platz f\u00fcr meine Kohlenbrennerei gew\u00e4hlt\nhatte. W\u00e4hrend ich in der N\u00e4he eines Felsens \u00c4ste abhieb, gewahrte ich\nhinter einem dichten Geb\u00fcsch eine dunkle H\u00f6hlung in der Bergwand,\ndie sich ziemlich tief in den Berg verlief. Schon hatte ich mir durch\ndas Gestr\u00fcpp einen Weg gebahnt, um meine Neugierde zu befriedigen, da\nfunkelten mich gleich flammenden Sternen zwei gro\u00dfe m\u00e4chtige Augen an.\nHierdurch vollst\u00e4ndig in Verwirrung gesetzt, rang ich l\u00e4ngere Zeit\nnach Fassung; endlich fing ich an, mich \u00fcber meine Furcht zu sch\u00e4men.\nAls ich wieder vor der Felswand stand, nannte ich mich einen Feigling,\nindem ich mir sagte, da\u00df ein Mensch, der seit fast 20 Jahren allein\nauf einem \u00f6den Eiland gelebt, doch mehr Besonnenheit haben sollte, um\nnicht vor jedem au\u00dfergew\u00f6hnlichen Anblick wie ein furchtsames Kind zu\nerzittern. Ich fa\u00dfte also frischen Mut, nahm einen Feuerbrand und trat\nin die Grotte ein. Kaum hatte ich jedoch drei bis vier Schritte gethan,\nals ich erschrocken zur\u00fcckfuhr, so da\u00df auf meiner Stirn Schwei\u00df stand.\n-- Meine Haare str\u00e4ubten sich empor, denn aus dem Innern der H\u00f6hle\nklang es wie das Seufzen eines leidenden Menschen, dann folgten ein\nSt\u00f6hnen und tiefes Seufzen.\nIch sammelte alle meine Kr\u00e4fte und ermutigte mich durch den Gedanken,\nda\u00df Gott allgegenw\u00e4rtig sei und mich \u00fcberall besch\u00fctzen k\u00f6nne. Noch\neinmal trat ich mit dem Feuerbrand in die H\u00f6hle zur\u00fcck, und nun\nerst gewahrte ich, da\u00df es nichts weiter war, als ein gro\u00dfer, alter\n*Ziegenbock*, der hier im Sterben lag. Vergebens bem\u00fchte ich mich, ihn\naufzur\u00fctteln, er sank immer wieder in seine vorige Lage zur\u00fcck. Ich\nlie\u00df ihn also liegen und sah mir die H\u00f6hle etwas genauer an. Sie war\nziemlich gro\u00df und hoch und offenbar nicht durch Menschenhand, sondern\nvon der Natur selbst gebildet. Im Hintergrunde entdeckte ich eine\n\u00d6ffnung, die noch tiefer in die Erde ging, indes so niedrig war, da\u00df\nman nur auf H\u00e4nden und F\u00fc\u00dfen hineinkriechen konnte. F\u00fcr heute begn\u00fcgte\nich mich aber mit den gemachten Beobachtungen, brannte meine Kohlen,\nmelkte die Ziegen und kehrte nach meiner Wohnung zur\u00fcck.\nAm andern Tage kam ich mit sechs gro\u00dfen Lichtern an demselben Orte\nan. Ich mu\u00df hier erw\u00e4hnen, da\u00df ich schon seit mehreren Jahren ganz\nleidlich Lichter aus Bocksfett herstellte, zu deren Dochten ich teils\nalte Lumpen oder Tauenden, teils die getrockneten Stengel einer\nNesselpflanze verwandte. Der alte Bock hatte sich w\u00e4hrend meiner\nAbwesenheit bis an die \u00d6ffnung der H\u00f6hle geschleppt, wo er auch\nliegen blieb. Ich schaffte das schwere Tier beiseite und begrub es\nsogleich. Dann z\u00fcndete ich zwei Lichter an und trat in die H\u00f6hle. Als\nich an die enge \u00d6ffnung im Hintergrunde kam, duckte ich mich nieder\nund kroch ungef\u00e4hr drei Meter weit auf den H\u00e4nden fort; da erweiterte\nsich die \u00d6ffnung, und meine Augen wurden durch ein prachtvolles\nSchauspiel gefesselt. Ich befand mich n\u00e4mlich in einer herrlichen\nW\u00f6lbung, an deren W\u00e4nden sich der Strahl der Lichter in tausendfachem\nSchimmer brach. Waren es Diamanten oder vielleicht Goldk\u00f6rner, die\nsich an die Felsenw\u00e4nde kristallisiert hatten? Ich konnte es nicht\nentscheiden. Der Boden war trocken und eben, mit \u00e4u\u00dferst feinem\nKies bedeckt, und nirgends eine Spur von Feuchtigkeit, sch\u00e4dlichen\nAusd\u00fcnstungen oder widerw\u00e4rtigen Tieren. Als einzigen \u00dcbelstand fand\nich die Beschwerlichkeit des Eingangs und die dichte Finsternis.\nDennoch freute ich mich \u00fcber meine Entdeckung, da die Grotte eine\nsichere Zufluchtsst\u00e4tte zu bieten versprach; ich beschlo\u00df also gleich,\ndiejenigen Gegenst\u00e4nde, die mir am wertvollsten schienen, ohne Z\u00f6gern\nhierher zu schaffen.\nVor allem brachte ich meinen Vorrat an Pulver samt meinen beiden\nJagdflinten und drei Musketen nach der Grotte. Bei dieser Gelegenheit\n\u00f6ffnete ich auch mein letztes Pulverf\u00e4\u00dfchen, das ich aus der See\naufs Trockene gerettet hatte, und bemerkte, da\u00df das Meerwasser\nein St\u00fcck eingedrungen, das Pulver soweit zu einer harten Schale\nzusammengebacken, der Rest aber vollst\u00e4ndig gut erhalten war. Alles das\nschaffte ich in die Grotte und behielt f\u00fcr meinen gew\u00f6hnlichen Bedarf\nnur wenig zur\u00fcck. Auch das Blei, welches ich noch besa\u00df, um daraus\nKugeln zu gie\u00dfen, barg ich nebst andern wertvollen Dingen an diesem von\nder Natur so gesch\u00fctzten Orte. Ich gewann nun die \u00dcberzeugung, da\u00df,\nwenn mich die Kannibalen auf der Insel auszusp\u00e4hen versuchten, sie\nmich hier kaum finden w\u00fcrden; jedenfalls glaubte ich nun vor Angriffen\nsicher zu sein. Ich kam mir jetzt vor wie einer der Riesen aus der\nVorzeit, welche in H\u00f6hlen und Felsenkl\u00fcften lebten, in denen sie\nunnahbare Zufluchtsst\u00e4tten fanden.\n[Illustration: Robinson bringt seinen neuen Freund ins Trockene.]\nZehntes Kapitel.\nStillleben mit Unterbrechungen.\n  Robinsons Menagerie. -- Viehzucht und Bierbrauerei. -- Neuer Besuch\n  von Wilden. -- Das Wrack. -- Ein neuer Freund. -- Reisetr\u00e4ume.\nDreiundzwanzig Jahre lebte ich nun auf meinem Eilande, und ich hatte\nmich w\u00e4hrend dieser Zeit mit meinem Schicksal ausges\u00f6hnt. Nur selten\n\u00fcberkam mich ab und zu die Furcht, durch die \u00dcberf\u00e4lle der Wilden\nbeunruhigt zu werden. In meinem Hauswesen hatte ich mir alle m\u00f6glichen\nBequemlichkeiten verschafft, ja selbst an Vergn\u00fcgungen fehlte es nicht.\nZwar war mir schon nach dem 16. Jahre meiner Einsiedelei in meinem\nPhylax ein treuer Gef\u00e4hrte gestorben, doch ersetzten zwei oder drei\nLieblingskatzen diesen Verlust. Au\u00dferdem sprangen noch einige zahme\nZiegen und ein B\u00f6ckchen um mich her, die mir \u00fcberall folgten und ihr\nFutter aus meiner Hand nahmen. Den gr\u00f6\u00dften Zeitvertreib gew\u00e4hrte\nmir mein alter Freund *Poll*, der im Laufe der Zeit so vielerlei und\ndeutlich sprechen lernte, da\u00df er mich fast die Sehnsucht nach dem\nUmgang mit Menschen vergessen lie\u00df; ich besa\u00df nebenbei aber auch noch\nzwei andre Papageien, aus deren Schnabel ebenfalls lustig ein lautes\n\u00bbRobin, Robin!\u00ab \u00bbCrusoe, Crusoe!\u00ab ert\u00f6nte. \u00dcberdies hatte ich sogar\nmehrere Land- und Seev\u00f6gel zahm gemacht, ihnen die Fl\u00fcgel gestutzt und\nin dem Zaungehege meines Schlosses ihren Nisteplatz angewiesen, wo sie\nsich bald vermehrten und durch ihr reges Treiben Leben um meine Burg\nverbreiteten.\nNeue Pl\u00e4ne besch\u00e4ftigten fortan meinen Geist, um die selbstgeschaffene\nBehaglichkeit zu vermehren. So geriet ich unter anderm auf den Einfall,\nmir den Lebensgenu\u00df durch die Beschaffung des edlen Gerstensaftes zu\nerh\u00f6hen. Wochen und Monate brachte ich mit zahllosen Versuchen zu, ohne\nein Ergebnis zu erzielen. Indessen glaubte ich doch, da\u00df ich bei meiner\nBeharrlichkeit noch einen trinkbaren Gerstensaft zusammengebraut haben\nw\u00fcrde, wenn nicht die best\u00e4ndige Sorge vor den Wilden mich zu andern\nBesch\u00e4ftigungen angetrieben h\u00e4tte.\nSo nahte der Dezember des 23. Jahres heran, und die Aussicht auf eine\ngedeihliche Ernte hatte mich h\u00e4ufiger als je auf meine Felder und\nPflanzungen gelockt; da wurde ich von neuem in eine nicht geringe\nAufregung versetzt. Als ich n\u00e4mlich, noch in der Morgend\u00e4mmerung,\nausr\u00fcckte, sah ich zu meinem gro\u00dfen Erstaunen den Widerschein eines\nFeuers am Ufer, aber nicht etwa in der meiner Wohnung entgegengesetzten\nSeite, sondern gerade vor meinem Bezirk, und zwar h\u00f6chstens eine halbe\nStunde entfernt. In gro\u00dfer Best\u00fcrzung zog ich zuerst mich in ein\nW\u00e4ldchen zur\u00fcck, das ich nicht zu verlassen wagte. Dann aber lief ich\ngeradeswegs nach meiner Burg zur\u00fcck, zog die Leiter an mich heran und\ntraf Anstalten zu meiner Verteidigung.\nFest entschlossen, mich bis auf den letzten Blutstropfen zu\nverteidigen, lud ich alle meine Kanonen, wie ich die auf den Lafetten\nliegenden Musketen nannte, sodann auch meine Pistolen mit Kugeln und\nEisenst\u00fccken. Dar\u00fcber verga\u00df ich aber nicht, mich dem Schutze Gottes\nzu empfehlen und ihn zu bitten, er m\u00f6ge mich vor den gef\u00e4hrlichen\nUnholden bewahren.\nIn dieser Lage verharrte ich fast zwei Stunden; endlich konnte ich die\npeinliche Ungewi\u00dfheit nicht l\u00e4nger ertragen. So lehnte ich wieder meine\nLeiter an, stieg auf den neben meinem Schlo\u00df befindlichen Felsen und\nsp\u00e4hte nun mit dem Fernglase nach der Richtung hin, wo ich das Feuer\nbemerkt hatte. Hier sah ich gegen zehn ganz unbekleidete Wilde um\neinen Herd herum kauern, auf dem sie ein loderndes Feuer unterhielten,\num eine ihrer entsetzlichen Menschenmahlzeiten abzuhalten. Pl\u00f6tzlich\nerhoben sie sich und f\u00fchrten unter allerlei Geb\u00e4rden einen Tanz auf.\nDie Kannibalen hatten zwei Kanoes am Ufer befestigt, und da gerade die\nZeit der Ebbe war, so schien es, als ob sie die Zeit der Flut abwarten\nwollten, um wieder von der Insel abzufahren. Es ist schwer, sich einen\nBegriff von der Verwirrung zu machen, welche dieser Anblick in mir\nhervorrief; aber ich hatte richtig geurteilt, denn als die Flut zu\nsteigen begann und nach Westen str\u00f6mte, sah ich, wie sich die Wilden\ns\u00e4mtlich wiedereinschifften und fortruderten. Die Beobachtung, da\u00df die\nFremden nicht anders als mit der Ebbe ankommen k\u00f6nnten, gab mir eine\ngro\u00dfe Beruhigung. Solange die Flutzeit dauerte, konnte ich also mit\naller Sicherheit umherstreifen.\nNunmehr nahm ich meine beiden Gewehre auf die Schultern, steckte ein\npaar Pistolen zu mir, h\u00e4ngte ein gro\u00dfes Jagdmesser um und begab mich\neilends nach der Stelle, wo die Fremden ihr blutiges Fest gehalten\nhatten. Da sah ich denn gr\u00e4\u00dfliche Spuren ihrer Grausamkeit: Blut,\nKnochen und einige St\u00fccke Fleisch von den menschlichen Opfern. Dann\nbegab ich mich auf jenen H\u00fcgel, wo ich das erste Mal \u00e4hnliche \u00dcberreste\ngefunden hatte, und bemerkte von hier aus, da\u00df noch drei andre Kanoes\nmit Wilden dagewesen waren, welche sich gleichfalls an Menschenfleisch\nges\u00e4ttigt hatten. Ein Blick auf das Meer zeigte mir, wie sie ihrer\nHeimat zufuhren. Von neuem flammte mein Zorn auf, und ich beschlo\u00df.\nden ersten, der sich mir auf Schu\u00dfweite nahen w\u00fcrde, durch eine Kugel\nniederzustrecken. Wieder gab ich mich zornigen Gef\u00fchlen gegen die\nBarbaren hin und sann auf Mittel, wie ich sie am vorteilhaftesten\n\u00fcberraschen k\u00f6nnte, wenn sie sich, wie bei dem vorhergegangenen\nBesuche, in zwei Haufen trennten.\nInzwischen vergingen Jahr und Tag, ohne da\u00df sich der Besuch der Wilden\nwiederholt h\u00e4tte; wenigstens konnte ich keine Spur davon entdecken.\nZudem durfte ich auch sicher sein, da\u00df sie in der Regenzeit sich\nnicht auf die hohe See hinauswagten. Dennoch befand ich mich w\u00e4hrend\ndieser ganzen Zeit in gro\u00dfer Unruhe. Bange Tr\u00e4ume von Verfolgung und\nBlutvergie\u00dfen marterten mein Hirn, so da\u00df ich selbst im Wachen zwischen\nBe\u00e4ngstigung und Rachedurst schwebte.\nEs war am 16. Mai des 24. Jahres meiner Herrschaft als Inselk\u00f6nig,\nals ein heftiger Sturm, begleitet von fast ununterbrochenen Blitzen\nund Donnerschl\u00e4gen, einen ganzen Tag sowie den gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil der\nNacht hindurch tobte. Ernste Gedanken \u00fcber meine gegenw\u00e4rtige Lage\nbesch\u00e4ftigten mich. Eben hatte ich gegen Abend meine Tr\u00f6sterin, die\nBibel, zur Hand genommen, um aus diesem ewig quellenden Born neue\nZuversicht zu sch\u00f6pfen, da schreckte mich pl\u00f6tzlich ein *dumpfer\nKnall*, wie von einer Kanone, aus meiner Andacht auf.\nEine Best\u00fcrzung ganz eigner Art rief die verschiedensten Gef\u00fchle in\nmeiner Seele wach. Eiligst kletterte ich \u00fcber die Fenz und stieg auf\nmeine Warte hinauf. Gerade in dem Augenblicke, als ich den Gipfel\nerreichte und nach der tobenden See schaute, verk\u00fcndigte von dort her\nein Blitz einen zweiten Schu\u00df, dessen Knall auch nach mehreren Sekunden\nmein Ohr erreichte. Er kam von jener \u00f6stlichen Str\u00f6mung her, in die\nich fr\u00fcher selbst einmal mit meinem Kanoe geraten war. Ich vermutete\nsofort, da\u00df der dumpfe Knall von einem in Not geratenen Schiffe\nherr\u00fchre, welches einem andern in seiner N\u00e4he dahinsegelnden durch\nSignale von seiner gef\u00e4hrlichen Lage Kenntnis geben wollte. Wiewohl\nich den in Not Geratenen doch keine Hilfe zu bringen vermochte, so\nkonnten sie vielleicht mir helfen. Ich trug daher so viel trockenes\nHolz, als sich in der Eile zusammenraffen lie\u00df, auf der Warte zusammen,\nschichtete es in einen hohen Haufen und z\u00fcndete es an, obgleich der\nWind heftig wehte. Bald schlug die Lohe hoch empor, und sicherlich\nwurde sie von den auf dem brandenden Meere Befindlichen gesehen, denn\ndas Fahrzeug feuerte kurz hintereinander mehrere Kanonensch\u00fcsse ab.\nW\u00e4hrend der ganzen Nacht blieb ich auf meinem Posten und unterhielt den\nBrand durch immer neu hinzugetragenen Z\u00fcndstoff; von Zeit zu Zeit drang\nder dumpfe, unheimliche Knall der Notsignale durch Sturm und Nacht an\nmein Ohr, bis endlich alles verstummte.\nDer Morgen brach hell und freundlich an; der Sturm hatte ausgerast.\nIch lugte mit meinem Fernrohr gegen Ost und gewahrte in ziemlicher\nEntfernung von der Insel einen nur undeutlich erkennbaren Gegenstand;\naber nach meiner \u00dcberzeugung mu\u00dfte es ein Schiff oder Wrack sein.\nDa ich nun auch den Tag \u00fcber, wie man sich leicht denken kann, mit\ngespanntester Aufmerksamkeit nach diesem Punkt hinsah, derselbe aber\nsich nicht von der Stelle r\u00fchrte, so schlo\u00df ich daraus, da\u00df ich wohl\nein gestrandetes Schiff vor mir habe. Um hier\u00fcber klar zu werden, nahm\nich mein Gewehr samt Pistolen und eilte nach dem s\u00fcdlichen Teile der\nK\u00fcste und der Felsen, gegen welche mich einst die Str\u00f6mung getragen\nhatte. Dort angekommen, sah ich deutlich bei vollkommen klarem Himmel\nBug und Masten eines dem Untergang verfallenen Schiffes, genau an\nderselben Stelle, an welcher einst auch unser Fahrzeug ein gleiches\nSchicksal ereilte. Dieselben Riffe waren es, welche durch die bewirkte\nGegenstr\u00f6mung meine Rettung aus der verzweifeltsten Lage bei Umsegelung\nder Insel herbeif\u00fchrten.\nSo wird das, was dem einen Rettung bringen kann, oft Ursache zum\nVerderben des andern.\nDas gestrandete Schiff brachte mich auf allerhand Betrachtungen.\nBesonders fiel mir auf, da\u00df von der ganzen Mannschaft auch nicht ein\neinziger zu sehen war. Ich dachte, da\u00df die Leute bei n\u00e4chtlicher\nDunkelheit die K\u00fcste der Insel nicht bemerkt hatten, sonst m\u00f6chten\nsie sich gewi\u00df beeilt haben, mit ihrem Ruderboote anzulegen. Dem\nwidersprach jedoch das Signalisieren mit den Kanonen, denn ohne Zweifel\nhatten sie mein Feuer auf der Bergesspitze wahrgenommen und mu\u00dften\ndemnach Land in der N\u00e4he vermuten. M\u00f6glich war es auch, da\u00df sie in ihre\nSchaluppe gestiegen, aber von dem Strome, der mich vormals in Gefahr\ngebracht hatte, gepackt und weit hinaus in die hohe See geworfen worden\nwaren, wo sie sicherlich dem Verderben verfielen. Kaum vermag ich die\nWorte zu finden, um das Gef\u00fchl auszudr\u00fccken, welches sich meiner beim\nAnblick der Schiffstr\u00fcmmer bem\u00e4chtigte. \u00bbAch!\u00ab rief ich aus, \u00bbwenn\nsich doch nur einer oder zwei von den Verungl\u00fcckten gerettet h\u00e4tten,\nGef\u00e4hrten, mit denen ich umgehen, Wesen meiner Art, an die ich ein Wort\nrichten k\u00f6nnte!\u00ab W\u00e4hrend meines langen Aufenthaltes auf der Insel trat\nmeine Sehnsucht nach Umgang mit den Menschen nie so heftig zu Tage,\n\u00fcberw\u00e4ltigte mich der Schmerz \u00fcber meine Vereinsamung nie so bitterlich.\nPl\u00f6tzlich stieg in mir der Gedanke auf: Wie? wenn ich eine Bootfahrt\nnach dem Wrack wagte? Vielleicht konnte ja noch ein Menschenleben zu\nretten sein, und selbst im Falle, da\u00df ich mit meiner Hilfe zu sp\u00e4t\nk\u00e4me, konnte ich doch sicherlich hunderterlei n\u00fctzliche Dinge auf dem\nSchiffe erlangen. Die Begierde, nach dem Wrack zu segeln, ward so\nheftig, da\u00df ich es f\u00fcr eine Eingebung, einen Befehl des Himmels hielt\nund nicht l\u00e4nger anstand, an die Ausf\u00fchrung des Unternehmens zu gehen.\nIch eilte nach meiner Burg, nahm einen t\u00fcchtigen Vorrat Brot, einen\nTopf mit Trinkwasser, eine Flasche Rum, einen Korb Rosinen sowie\neinen Kompa\u00df mit. So beladen schritt ich zu meinem Kahne, sch\u00f6pfte\ndas Wasser, welches sich darin angesammelt hatte, aus und machte ihn\nflott. Hierauf legte ich alles ordnungsm\u00e4\u00dfig hinein und kehrte nach\nHause zur\u00fcck, um eine zweite Ladung herbeizuschaffen. Diesmal nahm ich\neinen gro\u00dfen Sack voll Reis mit, einen zweiten Topf frischen Wassers,\netwa zwei Dutzend Brote und Kuchen, eine Flasche Ziegenmilch und einen\nK\u00e4se samt meinem unentbehrlichen Sonnenschirm. Im Schwei\u00dfe meines\nAngesichts brachte ich dieses R\u00fcstzeug ins Boot und, indem ich Gott\num Schutz anflehte, stie\u00df ich vom Strande ab. Ich steuerte l\u00e4ngs der\nK\u00fcste hin, bis ich die Spitze der Sandbank am nord\u00f6stlichen Ende der\nInsel vor mir sah. Nun galt es, von hier aus mich auf die offene See zu\nwagen. Ein Blick auf die rei\u00dfende Str\u00f6mung, die auf beiden K\u00fcsten der\nInsel sich in gewisser Entfernung bemerkbar machte, erinnerte mich an\ndie Gefahren, die ich vor Jahren hier bestanden hatte. Der Gedanke,\nich k\u00f6nne durch eine dieser Str\u00f6mungen auch heute mit fortgerissen\nwerden und die K\u00fcste g\u00e4nzlich aus dem Gesicht verlieren, entmutigte\nmich derma\u00dfen, da\u00df ich, unschl\u00fcssig geworden, an das Land sprang und\nmein Boot in einer kleinen Bucht befestigte. Ich setzte mich auf einen\nkleinen H\u00fcgel nieder, und zwischen Furcht und Verlangen ging ich mit\nmir zu Rate, was das Zweckm\u00e4\u00dfigste sei.\nW\u00e4hrend dieser Betrachtungen bemerkte ich das Eintreten der Flut, ein\nUmstand, der meine Reise um einige Stunden verz\u00f6gern mu\u00dfte. Hierauf\ndachte ich, ob es nicht m\u00f6glich sei, da\u00df eine der Str\u00f6mungen mich mit\nderselben Schnelligkeit dem Ufer zuf\u00fchre, mit welcher mich die andre\nvon demselben entfernt hatte. Ich stieg auf einen H\u00fcgel, von wo aus\nich das Meer nach beiden Seiten genau beobachten konnte. Hier fand ich\ndenn, da\u00df die Str\u00f6mung der Flut in der N\u00e4he des Landes nach Norden\nging, und da\u00df ich, um meiner R\u00fcckkehr sicher zu sein, nichts weiter zu\nthun hatte, als mich einfach nach dieser Seite zu halten. Nun gewann\nich meinen fr\u00fcheren Mut wieder, ging den Berg hinunter, bestieg von\nneuem mein Boot und lavierte anf\u00e4nglich zwischen dem n\u00f6rdlichen Strome\nund der Sandbank hin und her. Dann steuerte ich nach Nordnordwest, um\ndie Str\u00f6mung zu erreichen, lie\u00df mich von dieser nach Nordost treiben\nund kam nach etwa zwei Stunden gl\u00fccklich bei dem Wrack an.\nDas Schiff, seiner Bauart nach ein *spanisches*, bot einen\nbejammernswerten Anblick dar: ich fand es am Felsen eingeklemmt. Das\nVorderteil und ein Teil des Decks waren durch die Wucht der Wogen\nzertr\u00fcmmert, der Haupt- und der Fockmast an ihrem Fu\u00dfe abgebrochen; der\nBugspriet dagegen schien wohlerhalten geblieben zu sein.\nAls ich an das Schiff herankam, zeigte sich auf dem Deck ein *Hund*,\nder bei meinem Anblick laut zu bellen und zu heulen anfing. Ich rief\nihn; sogleich sprang er ins Wasser und schwamm meiner Barke zu, in\nwelche ich ihm hineinhalf; das arme Tier war halb verschmachtet vor\nHunger und Durst! Ich gab dem Tiere zu saufen und f\u00fctterte es mit Brot,\nwelches der Hund mit der Gier eines Wolfes verschlang, der 14 Tage lang\nim Schnee gehungert hat.\nHierauf stieg ich an Bord. Das erste, worauf meine Blicke fielen,\nwaren zwei in der Vorderkaj\u00fctte ertrunkene Menschen, die einander im\nTode noch fest umschlungen hielten. Sonst lie\u00df sich nichts von Tier\noder Mensch mehr auf dem Schiffe bemerken. Der gr\u00f6\u00dfte Teil der Fracht\nschien durch das Seewasser stark gelitten zu haben. Im Mittelraume sah\nich, als die Ebbe eintrat, einige Tonnen mit Wein oder Branntwein;\nallein sie waren zu gro\u00df, als da\u00df ich sie h\u00e4tte von den Stelle bewegen\nk\u00f6nnen; ebenso fand ich einige Koffer, die wahrscheinlich den Matrosen\ngeh\u00f6rten. Daher brachte ich sie in mein Boot, ohne ihren Inhalt erst zu\ndurchsuchen.\nW\u00e4re das Vorderteil des Fahrzeugs nicht zertr\u00fcmmert gewesen, so h\u00e4tte\nsich gewi\u00df reiche Beute machen lassen; aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach\nkam das Schiff von Buenos Ayres oder vom Rio de la Plata, s\u00fcdlich von\nBrasilien, und befand sich auf dem Wege nach Havana.\nIn der N\u00e4he der Koffer fand ich auch ein kleines F\u00e4\u00dfchen mit Lik\u00f6r,\nungef\u00e4hr 20 Liter enthaltend; in der Kaj\u00fctte lagen mehrere Gewehre und\nein gro\u00dfes Pulverhorn. Da ich jedoch hinreichend Schie\u00dfwaffen besa\u00df, so\nlie\u00df ich jene liegen und nahm nur das Horn mit, in welchem sich etwa\nvier Pfund Pulver befanden. Was mir aber am n\u00fctzlichsten werden konnte,\ndas waren eine Feuerschaufel, eine Zange, zwei kleine kupferne Kessel,\neine kupferne Schokoladenkanne und ein Rost. Mit dieser Ladung und von\ndem Hunde begleitet, trat ich die Heimkehr an, und von der wachsenden\nFlut beg\u00fcnstigt, erreichte ich eine Stunde nach Sonnenuntergang das\nUfer meiner Insel.\nIch f\u00fchlte mich von den Anstrengungen des Tages so ermattet, da\u00df ich\nnicht mehr nach meiner Burg zur\u00fcckkehren mochte, vielmehr legte ich\nmich, nachdem ich Speise und Trank zu mir genommen, in meiner Barke\nschlafen, vor einem pl\u00f6tzlichen \u00dcberfall sicher, da ich ja einen\nW\u00e4chter in dem Hunde zur Seite hatte.\nNeu gest\u00e4rkt erwachte ich am folgenden Morgen. Nach eingenommenem\nImbi\u00df, den ich mit meinem neuen Freunde gewissenhaft teilte, schaffte\nich meine Fracht ans Ufer und durchsuchte jedes St\u00fcck. Der Branntwein\nin dem F\u00e4\u00dfchen erwies sich als eine Art Rum, und in den Koffern\nentdeckte ich mancherlei, was mir sehr willkommen war, z. B. ein\nFlaschenfutter von sehr sch\u00f6ner Arbeit, in welchem sich mehrere,\ndrei Liter haltige, mit silbernen St\u00f6pseln versehene Flaschen feiner\nBranntweine befanden; sodann zwei T\u00f6pfe mit eingemachten Fr\u00fcchten,\ndie so fest verschlossen waren, da\u00df das Seewasser nicht einzudringen\nvermocht hatte; ferner etliche gute Hemden, anderthalb Dutzend\nwei\u00dfleinene Taschent\u00fccher und mehrere farbige Halst\u00fccher. Auf dem\nBoden des Koffers fand ich zuguterletzt noch drei gro\u00dfe Beutel mit\nSilberm\u00fcnzen, im ganzen 1100 St\u00fcck; in dem einen waren 6 Dublonen in\nGold und etliche kleine Goldbarren. Gern h\u00e4tte ich das ganze Gold, das\nich nicht viel h\u00f6her als Kieselsteine sch\u00e4tzte, f\u00fcr drei oder vier Paar\nenglische Schuhe und Str\u00fcmpfe dahingegeben, die ich seit so vielen\nJahren schmerzlich entbehren mu\u00dfte. In dem andern Koffer befanden sich\nKleidungsst\u00fccke sowie ein kleiner Pulvervorrat, dessen au\u00dferordentliche\nFeinheit darauf hinwies, da\u00df er nur zur Vogeljagd bestimmt sein\nkonnte. Der Koffer, welchen ich zuletzt \u00f6ffnete, enthielt noch eine\nGeldsumme in Realen, aber was mir am meisten Freude bereitet, war der\nFund von Papier, Federn, Schreibzeug, Federmessern und einer gro\u00dfen\nFlasche voll Tinte.\nAlsbald brachte ich den ganzen Fund unter Dach und Fach nach meiner\nGrotte, das Boot aber wieder an seinen alten Ort; ich selbst kehrte\ndarin nach der Burg zur\u00fcck, wo ich alles in derselben Ordnung vorfand,\nwie ich es k\u00fcrzlich verlassen.\nZwar entstand ein nicht geringer Aufruhr unter den Ziegen und Katzen,\nals sie meinen vierbeinigen Gef\u00e4hrten erblickten, der sie laut bellend\nanfuhr; doch ich schlichtete bald den Streit der Parteien, und\ns\u00e4mtliche tierische Genossen lebten dann in ungest\u00f6rtem \u00bbBurgfrieden\u00ab\neintr\u00e4chtig bei einander.\n[Illustration: Traurige \u00dcberraschung]\nAls ich nach ein paar Tagen wiederum an das Ufer in die N\u00e4he des\nSchiffbruchs kam, bemerkte ich zu meinem gro\u00dfen Schmerze den Leichnam\neines Schiffsjungen, den die Wogen ans Land gesp\u00fclt hatten. Er trug\nnur eine Matrosenjacke, an den Knieen zerrissene Beinkleider, sowie\nein Hemd von dunkelblauer Leinwand. Nichts verriet, welcher Nation\ner angeh\u00f6rte. In seinen Taschen fand ich zwei kleine M\u00fcnzen und eine\nPfeife, \u00fcber welche letztere ich hoch erfreut war, und die in meinen\nAugen hundertmal mehr Wert hatte als Gold und Silber! Von der ganzen\nverungl\u00fcckten Schiffsmannschaft, soviel ich auch umhersp\u00e4hte, entdeckte\nich nicht das Geringste.\nNach den eben beschriebenen Ereignissen trat in meinem Leben wieder die\nfr\u00fchere Eint\u00f6nigkeit ein, nur da\u00df ich bei allen Verrichtungen, die ich\nvornahm, behutsamer zu Werke ging und wachsamer auf alles acht gab,\nwas sich au\u00dferhalb meiner Burg etwa ereignete. Wenn ich mein Landhaus\nbesuchte, so wagte ich nicht, mich dahin zu begeben, ohne mich bis an\ndie Z\u00e4hne zu bewaffnen. Traf es sich aber, da\u00df mich der Weg nach dem\n\u00f6stlichen Teile der Insel f\u00fchrte, so konnte ich schon mit gr\u00f6\u00dferer\nSicherheit, wenn auch immer nicht unbewaffnet, meine Reserveparks\nbesichtigen. Manchmal wandelte mich in dieser Zeit die Lust an,\neine zweite Reise nach dem gestrandeten Fahrzeuge zu unternehmen;\nallein mein Verstand sagte mir, da\u00df es nichts enthielte, was die\nBeschwerlichkeiten und Gefahren verg\u00fcten k\u00f6nnte.\nDie fehlgeschlagene Hoffnung, bei meinem Besuche auf dem Wrack\nMenschen, Gef\u00e4hrten in meiner Ein\u00f6de zu finden, lie\u00df noch ganz andre\nPl\u00e4ne in mir emportauchen, die fast ans Ungeheuerliche grenzten. Mich\npackte wieder die alte Wanderlust, meine \u00bbUrs\u00fcnde\u00ab, wie ich sie nannte,\nund ich wollte wenigstens einmal den beiden meiner Insel zun\u00e4chst\ngelegenen Eilanden mit meinem Boote einen Besuch abstatten. Von da aus\nkonnte ich dann auch einen Abstecher nach dem Festlande von Amerika\nunternehmen. Auch jetzt fiel mir wieder die Barke ein, auf der ich\neinst mit dem Maurenknaben Xury aus Saleh entflohen war; h\u00e4tte ich sie\nin den Augenblicken meiner Reiseleidenschaft zur Verf\u00fcgung gehabt, ich\nw\u00fcrde mich wahrscheinlich wieder auf gut Gl\u00fcck dem tr\u00fcgerischen Element\nanvertraut haben, um zu irgend einer Ansiedelung von Menschen zu\ngelangen. Gern h\u00e4tte ich auch wissen m\u00f6gen, welchen Teil des Erdballs\njene Fremdlinge bewohnten, die mich f\u00fcr immer aus meiner sorglosen Ruhe\naufgeschreckt hatten, wie weit ihr Land von meiner Insel entfernt sei,\nund ich fragte mich selbst, warum ich nicht ebenso gut an *ihrer* K\u00fcste\nlanden k\u00f6nnte, als sie an der meinigen.\nEs war in der Regenzeit, im M\u00e4rz des 24. Jahres meiner Anwesenheit auf\nder Insel, als ich eine ganze Nacht schlaflos in meiner H\u00e4ngematte\nzubrachte, obgleich ich mich k\u00f6rperlich gerade nicht unwohl f\u00fchlte.\nEs ging nochmals die ganze Geschichte meines vergangenen Lebens wie\nin einem Zauberbilde an meinem geistigen Auge vor\u00fcber. Freudige\nBetrachtungen wechselten mit traurigen in rascher Folge. Ich rief\nmir die verschiedenen Zeitabschnitte meines einsamen Aufenthalts\nzur\u00fcck und verglich die fr\u00fchere ruhige Lage mit der be\u00e4ngstigenden\nExistenz, die ich seit dem Augenblicke f\u00fchrte, als ich in dem Sande\ndie verh\u00e4ngnisvolle Spur eines Fu\u00dfes fand. Ich zweifelte durchaus\nnicht, da\u00df die Wilden schon vorher meiner Insel wiederholte Besuche\nabgestattet hatten; aber da mir dieselben unbekannt blieben, so hatte\nich sorglos dahingelebt. Wie g\u00fctig nimmt sich doch immer unser\nHerrgott unser an, indem er unser Urteil und unsre Voraussicht in so\nenge Grenzen schlie\u00dft. Ruhig und unbeirrt wandeln wir zwischen Gefahren\nhindurch, deren Anblick uns allen Genu\u00df an der Gegenwart rauben w\u00fcrde.\nWie oft wanderte ich vormals im Gef\u00fchle der gr\u00f6\u00dften Sicherheit in\nmeinem K\u00f6nigreich einher! Vielleicht hatte ich es nur einem Baum, einem\nH\u00fcgel, dem Einbruch der Nacht zu verdanken, wenn ich nicht in die H\u00e4nde\nder Kannibalen gefallen war.\nTief ger\u00fchrt dankte ich dem Allm\u00e4chtigen f\u00fcr die Bewahrung vor so\nvielen augenf\u00e4lligen und unbekannten Gefahren.\nAlle diese Gedanken setzten mein Blut stark in Wallung, und mein Puls\nh\u00e4mmerte heftig wie im Fieber. Erst gegen Morgen sank ich vor Ermattung\nin einen tiefen Schlaf. Da unternahm ich im Traume meinen gew\u00f6hnlichen\nMorgenspaziergang an die K\u00fcste auf der Ostseite der Insel und sah zwei\nKanoes, aus denen elf Wilde stiegen samt etlichen Gefangenen, die sie\nverzehren wollten. Pl\u00f6tzlich sprang eines der Schlachtopfer davon und\nsuchte eine Zufluchtsst\u00e4tte in dem Buschwerk, das meine Burg umgab. Ich\nging ihm entgegen und forderte ihn auf, n\u00e4her zu mir zu kommen. Der\narme Gefangene st\u00fcrzte vor mir auf die Kniee nieder, um meinen Beistand\ngegen seine Peiniger anzuflehen. Darauf kam es mir vor, als zeigte ich\nihm meine Leiter, h\u00e4lfe ihm \u00fcber die Mauer und f\u00fchrte ihn in meine\nWohnung, wo er mein Diener wurde. \u00bbMit diesem neuen Gef\u00e4hrten\u00ab, sagte\nich mir selbst, \u00bbwerde ich endlich meinen sehnlichsten Wunsch erf\u00fcllen\nk\u00f6nnen. Nichts hindert mich jetzt, auf den Ozean hinauszusteuern; denn\ner wird mir als Pilot oder Lotse dienen und mir sagen, was ich thun\noder unterlassen soll.\u00ab\nIch hatte so lebendig getr\u00e4umt, und alle Einzelheiten des im Schlafe\nGeschauten waren so eindrucksvoll an mir vor\u00fcbergeschwebt, da\u00df ich mich\nnach dem Erwachen noch l\u00e4ngere Zeit der T\u00e4uschung \u00fcberlie\u00df, ich k\u00f6nnte\ndas in Wirklichkeit erlebt haben, was mich so au\u00dferordentlich ergriff\n-- und ich jauchzte vor Freuden laut auf.\nIndes Tr\u00e4ume -- sind Sch\u00e4ume, sagte das Sprichwort, ich rieb mir die\nSchlaftrunkenheit aus den Augen, und als ich aus meiner Umgebung die\nGewi\u00dfheit gewann, da\u00df meine Rettungspl\u00e4ne nichts als Hirngespinste\nwaren, bem\u00e4chtigte sich meiner eine gro\u00dfe Niedergeschlagenheit.\nDieser Vorfall brachte mich auf den Gedanken, wom\u00f6glich einen Wilden,\nden die Kannibalen nach meiner Insel f\u00fchrten, um ihn abzuschlachten,\naus ihren m\u00f6rderischen H\u00e4nden zu befreien; auf keine andre Art schien\nmir eine Rettung f\u00fcr meine eigne Person denkbar zu sein. Aber ein\nsolches mit den gr\u00f6\u00dften Schwierigkeiten und Gefahren verkn\u00fcpftes\nUnternehmen -- wie leicht konnte es fehlschlagen! Auf der andern Seite\nkamen mir wieder Zweifel gegen die Angemessenheit meiner Pl\u00e4ne bei,\nich scheute vor dem Gedanken an Blutvergie\u00dfen zur\u00fcck. Kurz, Gr\u00fcnde und\nGegengr\u00fcnde stritten lebhaft in mir; endlich siegte der Drang nach\nBefreiung, und ich beschlo\u00df, auf eine Gelegenheit zu achten, um einen\nWilden in meine H\u00e4nde zu bekommen. Nun kam es darauf an, wie zu meinem\nZiele zu gelangen sei?\nDas n\u00e4chste Thunliche bestand darin, auf die Kannibalen zu lauern,\nwenn sie an dieser K\u00fcste landeten, und das \u00fcbrige meinem Gl\u00fccke\nanheimzustellen. Ich ging von nun an t\u00e4glich auf Kundschaft aus,\nbesonders nach dem westlichen und s\u00fcdwestlichen Teile meines Eilandes;\naber wie sehr ich auch ringsumher sp\u00e4hte, nirgends wollte sich ein mit\nwilden Eingeborenen besetztes Boot zeigen. So verlief eine geraume\nZeit. Indessen weit davon entfernt, mich unm\u00e4nnlicher Entmutigung\nhinzugeben, fachte ich meinen Zorn gegen die Kannibalen zur hellen\nFlamme an, so da\u00df sich t\u00e4glich in mir immer mehr die Begierde regte,\nim Kampfe mit meinen Feinden mich zu messen, und es verging kaum eine\nNacht, in welcher ich mich im Traume nicht im Streite mit meinen\ngrimmen Feinden befunden h\u00e4tte.\n[Illustration: Robinson auf seiner Warte.]\nElftes Kapitel.\nZusammensto\u00df mit den Kannibalen.\n  Landung der Wilden. -- Die beiden Schlachtopfer. -- Der Fl\u00fcchtling\n  und sein Besch\u00fctzer. -- Reste des Kannibalenschmauses. -- Freitags\n  Dankbarkeit. -- Seine Ausstattung. -- Erste Sprechstudien. -- Freitag\n  als Koch und B\u00e4ckerlehrling. -- Nachrichten \u00fcber die Nachbarl\u00e4nder.\n  -- Die Kariben und ihre religi\u00f6sen Anschauungen.\nAuf die beschriebene Weise mochten weitere anderthalb Jahre\nverstrichen sein, als ich eines Morgens noch in der D\u00e4mmerzeit f\u00fcnf\nKanoes bemerkte, welche dicht nebeneinander und in der Richtung nach\nmeiner Wohnung an der K\u00fcste gelandet waren. Eine solche Zahl machte\nmich stutzig, ich wu\u00dfte, da\u00df sich gew\u00f6hnlich f\u00fcnf bis sechs Mann in\neinem Boote befanden, und es erschien mir deshalb ein verzweifeltes\nWagest\u00fcck, allein vielleicht ihrer drei\u00dfig angreifen zu sollen. Mit\nBesorgnissen erf\u00fcllt, zog ich mich daher hinter meine Festungsw\u00e4lle\nzur\u00fcck. Hier traf ich die n\u00f6tigen Anstalten, jedem feindlichen Besuch\ngeb\u00fchrend zu begegnen.\nNachdem ich geraume Zeit vergeblich auf die Ankunft der G\u00e4ste gewartet,\nwollte ich um jeden Preis wissen, was in meinem Inselk\u00f6nigreich\nvorgehe. Mein Gewehr legte ich am Fu\u00dfe der Leiter nieder; gleich\nnachher war ich selbst mit zwei S\u00e4tzen auf dem Gipfel des H\u00fcgels.\nHier gewahrte ich durch mein Fernglas gegen 30 Wilde, die unter den\nseltsamsten Geb\u00e4rden um ein Feuer tanzten. Darauf sah ich, wie man zwei\nUngl\u00fcckliche aus den Kanoes herbeischleppte, um sie zu schlachten. Der\neine von ihnen st\u00fcrzte sogleich zu Boden, wahrscheinlich durch eine\nKeule get\u00f6tet; in wilder Hast fielen zwei oder drei von den Kannibalen\n\u00fcber ihn her und schnitten ihn in St\u00fccke, w\u00e4hrend das andre Opfer ein\ngleiches Schicksal erwartete. Pl\u00f6tzlich erwachte in dem Ungl\u00fccklichen\ndie Lust zum Leben; er ergriff die Flucht und rannte mit unglaublicher\nSchnelligkeit am Ufer hin, gerade auf meine Burg zu. Ich war auf den\nTod erschrocken, als ich ihn diese Richtung einschlagen sah, zumal\nein Trupp ihm alsbald nachsetzte. Ich r\u00fchrte mich nicht und sch\u00f6pfte\nerst dann frischen Mut, als ich bemerkte, da\u00df nur noch drei M\u00e4nner dem\nFl\u00fcchtling folgten, der unterdessen einen betr\u00e4chtlichen Vorsprung\ngewonnen hatte.\nZwischen ihnen und meiner Festung lag die Bai, deren ich \u00f6fter schon\nerw\u00e4hnt habe. Wollte der Fl\u00fcchtling seinen Verfolgern entrinnen, so\nmu\u00dfte er diesen Meeresarm durchschwimmen. In der That warf er sich ohne\nZaudern in die Flut und gewann das andre Ufer. Er erkletterte behende\ndas Gestade und setzte seine Flucht mit gutem Erfolge fort. Als die\ndrei Verfolger an das Wasser kamen, kehrte einer bed\u00e4chtlich um und\nbegab sich zu seinen schmausenden Gef\u00e4hrten zur\u00fcck; die beiden andern\ndagegen schwammen dem Fl\u00fcchtling nach, brauchten aber noch einmal so\nviel Zeit dazu.\nJetzt schien der Augenblick gekommen, wo mein Traum sich erf\u00fcllen\nkonnte. Ich hielt mich von der Vorsehung geradezu f\u00fcr berufen, dem\nVerfolgten zu Hilfe zu kommen. Rasch stieg ich von meiner Warte herab,\nnahm die beiden Gewehre, die ich am Fu\u00dfe der Leiter gelassen, und eilte\ndem Meere zu, indem ich einen k\u00fcrzeren Weg einschlug. Bald befand ich\nmich denn auch zwischen dem Entflohenen und den Verfolgern. Jenen\nrief ich laut an, allein der Arme erschrak fast noch mehr \u00fcber mich,\nals er sich vor seinen Feinden f\u00fcrchtete. Ich machte ihm deshalb mit\nder Hand ein Zeichen, zu mir zu kommen, und wandte mich sodann gegen\ndie Verfolger, st\u00fcrzte mich auf den Vordersten und schmetterte ihn\nmit einem Kolbenschlage zu Boden. Der Gef\u00e4hrte des Erschlagenen blieb\nentsetzt stehen; als ich mich aber ihm nahte, griff er nach Bogen und\nPfeil, um auf mich zu schie\u00dfen. Ich kam ihm indes flugs zuvor und\nstreckte ihn durch einen Flintenschu\u00df nieder.\nKnall, Feuer und Rauch machten den armen geretteten Schwarzen so\nbest\u00fcrzt, da\u00df er wie angewurzelt stehen blieb. Unschl\u00fcssig, was zu\nthun sei, schien er mehr geneigt, weiter zu fliehen, als sich mir zu\nn\u00e4hern. Wiederholt winkte ich ihm mit der Hand, zu mir heranzukommen.\nEr mochte meine Zeichensprache verstehen, that auch einige Schritte\nvorw\u00e4rts, hierauf stand er wieder etwas still, kam dann etwas n\u00e4her,\nhielt hernach aber von neuem inne. Ich fuhr jedoch fort, ihm zuzuwinken\nund ihm durch freundliche Geb\u00e4rden seine Todesangst zu benehmen.\nDies bewog ihn, sich allm\u00e4hlich zu n\u00e4hern, aber wiederholt kniete er\nnieder, um mir seine Unterw\u00fcrfigkeit auszudr\u00fccken. Endlich kam er zu\nmir heran, legte sich nieder, k\u00fc\u00dfte die Erde, ergriff meinen rechten\nFu\u00df und setzte ihn auf seinen Kopf. Vermutlich wollte er mir dadurch zu\nverstehen geben, da\u00df er von diesem Augenblicke an mein Sklave sei. Ich\nrichtete ihn auf, sah ihn freundlich an und that alles m\u00f6gliche, um ihm\nMut einzufl\u00f6\u00dfen.\n[Illustration: Robinson findet Freitag.]\nW\u00e4hrenddessen war der Wilde, den ich erschlagen zu haben glaubte,\nwieder zu sich gekommen und fing an, sich zu regen. Ich machte meinen\nSch\u00fctzling darauf aufmerksam. Derselbe richtete hierauf an seinen\nVerfolger einige Worte, die mir aber seit 25 Jahren nicht mehr geh\u00f6rte\nliebliche Laute waren, kamen sie doch aus dem Munde eines Menschen.\nJetzt war jedoch keine Zeit, sich Betrachtungen zu \u00fcberlassen, der\nVerwundete stand bereits im Begriff, sich wiederzuerheben. Deshalb\nlegte ich auf ihn an, um ihn niederzuschie\u00dfen, allein mein Sch\u00fctzling\ngab mir durch Zeichen zu verstehen, da\u00df ich ihm den S\u00e4bel, der an\nmeiner Seite hing, \u00fcberlassen m\u00f6ge. Ich reichte ihm die Waffe, und mit\nBlitzesschnelle st\u00fcrzte er mit derselben auf seinen Feind los und\nhieb ihm mit einem einzigen Streiche den Kopf vom Rumpfe ab. Mittels\ndieses Meisterst\u00fccks schien er sich bei mir in Achtung setzen zu\nwollen, denn er wandte sich triumphierend mir zu, lachend und allerhand\nmir unverst\u00e4ndliche Bewegungen ausf\u00fchrend, und legte Kopf und Degen mir\nzu F\u00fc\u00dfen.\nWas ihn aber am meisten in Erstaunen und in schreckhafte Bewegungen\nversetzte, war der Umstand, da\u00df ich den einen seiner Verfolger\naus weiter Entfernung niedergestreckt hatte. Er lie\u00df mich seine\nEmpfindungen durch Zeichen erraten und schien um die Erlaubnis bitten\nzu wollen, sich \u00fcberzeugen zu d\u00fcrfen, ob sein Feind wirklich tot sei,\nwas ich ihm nicht verwehrte. Als er vor dem Leichnam stand, betrachtete\ner ihn mit gro\u00dfer Verwunderung, wendete ihn dann bald auf die eine,\nbald auf die andre Seite und untersuchte die Wunde, aus der nur wenig\nBlut flo\u00df, denn die Kugel war tief in die Brust eingedrungen und das\nBlut hatte sich nach innen ergossen. Nach dieser Leichenschau kam mein\nWilder mit Bogen und Pfeilen des Get\u00f6teten wieder zur\u00fcck, und da ich\njetzt heimgehen wollte, gab ich ihm zu verstehen, mir zu folgen. Er\naber, als echter Sohn der Wildnis, war vorsichtiger als ich und deutete\nmir durch Zeichen an, wir m\u00f6chten die Toten in den Sand eingraben,\ndamit deren Genossen sie nicht so leicht finden konnten. Damit stimmte\nich vollst\u00e4ndig \u00fcberein, und nach Verlauf einer Viertelstunde waren die\nbeiden Kannibalen in die Erde eingescharrt.\nNoch wu\u00dfte ich nicht, wohin ich den Wilden bringen sollte. Meinem\nTraume gem\u00e4\u00df h\u00e4tte ich ihn nach meiner Burg f\u00fchren m\u00fcssen, doch besser\nschien es, mit ihm nach der Grotte, zu dem von meiner Hauptwohnung\nentferntesten Teile der Insel, zu gehen. Dort gab ich ihm Brot, Rosinen\nund frisches Wasser, was ihm trefflich mundete. Alsdann wies ich ihm\neine Sch\u00fctte Reisstroh zum Lager an und gab ihm dazu noch eine Decke.\nBald war er ruhig eingeschlafen.\nEs war ein sch\u00f6ngebauter, kr\u00e4ftiger, schlanker Bursche von etwa 25\nJahren. Seine regelm\u00e4\u00dfigen Z\u00fcge waren einnehmend, sie hatten im Grunde\nwenig Wildes und trugen den Ausdruck m\u00e4nnlichen Stolzes. Wenn er\nl\u00e4chelte, sprach sogar eine gewisse Sanftmut aus denselben, wie sie\nmeist den Wilden nicht eigen ist; seine langen Haare waren nicht wollig\noder kraus, sondern hingen schlicht auf den Nacken nieder; seine Haut\nwar dunkelbraun, von einer olivenfarbigen Schattierung. Sein Gesicht\nwar rund und voll, die Stirn frei, der Mund nicht \u00fcbel geformt, seine\nZ\u00e4hne wei\u00df wie Elfenbein.\nW\u00e4hrend der Wilde schlummerte, begab ich mich nach dem nahen Gehege,\num meine Ziegen zu melken. Noch war ich damit besch\u00e4ftigt, als mein\nIndianer, der h\u00f6chstens eine halbe Stunde geruht hatte, eilends auf\nmich zukam, sich wiederum dem\u00fctig vor mich hinlegte, meinen Fu\u00df\nauf seinen Kopf setzte und mir durch alle m\u00f6glichen Zeichen seine\nDankbarkeit ausdr\u00fcckte.\nIch verstand seine Zeichen und gab ihm meinerseits zu erkennen, da\u00df\nich mit ihm zufrieden sei; -- nachher machte ich ihm verst\u00e4ndlich,\nda\u00df er den Namen Freitag f\u00fchren solle, weil ich nach meinem Kalender\nglaubte, da\u00df ich ihm an einem *Freitag* das Leben gerettet h\u00e4tte. Dann\nbedeutete ich ihn, mich *Herr* zu nennen, da er meinen Weisungen Folge\nzu leisten h\u00e4tte; in gleicher Weise lehrte ich ihn den Unterschied\nzwischen *Ja* und *Nein* sowie die Aussprache dieser Worte. Hiermit\nendigte die erste Lektion im sprachlichen Unterricht. Dann gab ich ihm\nBrot und Milch in einem irdenen Gef\u00e4\u00dfe, ich selbst aber brockte mir ein\nSt\u00fcck Gerstenkuchen in die Milch und winkte ihm zu, meinem Beispiele zu\nfolgen.\nIch blieb mit ihm den \u00fcbrigen Teil des Tages und die folgende Nacht in\nder Grotte. Sobald es aber Morgen geworden war, nahm ich ihn mit in\nmeine Burg, um ihn mit Kleidung zu versehen, denn er lief herum, wie\nihn Gott erschaffen hatte. Als wir an der St\u00e4tte vorbeikamen, wo die\nget\u00f6teten Wilden eingescharrt waren, zeigte er mir genau die Stelle\nund machte ein Zeichen, als denke er daran, die Toten auszugraben, um\nsie zu verzehren. Er erschrak nicht wenig, als ich ihm deutlich meinen\nAbscheu ausdr\u00fcckte.\nNach einer kleinen Weile winkte ich meinen Gef\u00e4hrten zu mir heran,\num mit ihm meine Warte zu ersteigen. Vor allem wollte ich mich\nvergewissern, ob die Wilden fort w\u00e4ren; deutlich lie\u00df sich durch\ndas Fernrohr die Stelle erkennen, wo sie geweilt hatten. Von ihnen\nselbst aber und ihren K\u00e4hnen war nicht die geringste Spur mehr zu\nentdecken; sie hatten sich also offenbar entfernt, ohne sich um die\nzur\u00fcckgebliebenen Gef\u00e4hrten zu bek\u00fcmmern. Ich mu\u00dfte mir Gewi\u00dfheit\nverschaffen, gab meinem Freitag einen S\u00e4bel in die Hand, hing ihm Bogen\nund Pfeile um und gab ihm \u00fcberdies eine Flinte f\u00fcr mich zu tragen. Ich\nselbst ergriff zwei Gewehre, und so bewaffnet marschierten wir nach dem\nLagerplatz der Wilden.\nAls wir den Ort der Blutmahlzeit erreichten, erstarrte bei dem\ngrauenvollen Anblick, der sich mir darbot, mein Blut in den Adern.\nDer Boden war ringsum mit Blut gef\u00e4rbt, Menschenknochen lagen\nzerstreut umher. Drei Sch\u00e4del, f\u00fcnf H\u00e4nde, die Knochen von drei\noder vier Beinen und mehrere halbverzehrte St\u00fccke Fleisch waren\ndie \u00dcberbleibsel des Siegesfestes. Freitag gab mir durch Gesten zu\nverstehen, da\u00df die Kannibalen vier Gefangene hierher geschleppt hatten;\neine gro\u00dfe Schlacht zwischen seinem und dem benachbarten Stamme\nhabe stattgefunden. Ich lie\u00df Freitag die Sch\u00e4del, die Knochen, die\nFleischst\u00fccke auf einen Haufen tragen und z\u00fcndete ein gro\u00dfes Feuer an,\num alles zu Asche zu verbrennen. Hierbei regte sich in Freitag die\nalte Kannibalennatur; er trug nicht \u00fcbel Lust, seinem Appetite nach\nMenschenfleisch Rechnung zu tragen. Aber ich verbot ihm dergleichen\nGel\u00fcste auf das entschiedenste, so da\u00df er nicht wagte, sein Verlangen\nzu befriedigen.\nNachdem wir dem Schauplatze menschlicher Grausamkeit den R\u00fccken\ngewendet, schlugen wir den geraden Weg zur Burg ein; hier wollte ich\nvor allem meinen Diener mit Kleidern versehen. Zuerst gab ich ihm ein\npaar Leinwandhosen, dann fabrizierte ich eine Weste von Ziegenfell nach\ndem bequemsten Schnitt, denn ich war ein leidlich gewandter Schneider\ngeworden. Auch f\u00fcr eine Jacke oder ein Wams wurde nun gesorgt, und\neine bequeme, gar nicht \u00fcbel aussehende M\u00fctze von Hasenfell vollendete\ndie Ausr\u00fcstung Freitags. F\u00fcr den ersten Augenblick schien er entz\u00fcckt\ndar\u00fcber zu sein, fast ebenso auszusehen wie sein Herr; doch f\u00fchlte er\nsich gar bald in seinem Kost\u00fcm unbehaglich. Die Beinkleider schienen\nihm zur Last zu sein, und die Wams\u00e4rmel dr\u00fcckten ihm Schultern und Arm.\nNachdem ich aber an den Stellen, die ihm Zwang verursachten, etwas\nnachgeholfen, gew\u00f6hnte er sich bald an seine Tracht und legte sie\nzuletzt sogar mit einem gewissen Wohlgefallen an.\nIch sann nun dar\u00fcber nach, wo ich meinen guten Freitag unterbringen\nk\u00f6nnte, ohne da\u00df ich von ihm etwas zu f\u00fcrchten h\u00e4tte; es schien mir\ndas geeignetste, zwischen meinen beiden Festungswerken ein Zelt\naufzuschlagen. Da man von hier aus einen Eingang zur H\u00f6hle hatte, so\nbrachte ich daselbst eine h\u00f6lzerne Th\u00fcr an und setzte diese in die\n\u00d6ffnung, sodann verriegelte ich die Pforte und zog auch meine Leiter\nmit herein. Meine innere Mauer trug eine Bedachung von langen Stangen,\nwelche mein Zelt bedeckte und sich an die Felsenwand anlehnte. \u00dcber\njene Stangen waren als Latten kleine St\u00e4be gelegt und auf letztere\neine Schicht Reisstroh gebreitet, so da\u00df es einem Rohrdach glich. Die\n\u00d6ffnung, durch welche man aus und ein gelangen konnte, hatte ich mit\neiner Art von Fallth\u00fcr geschlossen und dadurch mich gegen Freitag\nvollkommen gesichert. H\u00e4tte *er* ja in feindlicher Absicht durchbrechen\nwollen, so w\u00e4re ich durch das Zuwerfen der Th\u00fcr aufmerksam gemacht\nworden; aber ich behielt auch stets Gewehr, Pfeil und Bogen in meiner\nN\u00e4he.\nDoch alle diese Vorsichtsma\u00dfregeln waren, wie ich mich immer mehr\n\u00fcberzeugte, durchaus nicht notwendig; denn es konnte kaum eine treuere\nund diensteifrigere Seele gefunden werden, als dieser Freitag war. Nie\nlegte er Eigensinn, nie Mutwillen an den Tag; stets fand ich in ihm\nnur die aufrichtigste Ergebung in meinen Willen. Er war mir herzlich\nzugethan und liebte mich wie einen Vater, so da\u00df ich wohl sagen\nkann, er h\u00e4tte gern und freudig sein Leben f\u00fcr mich hingegeben. Bald\nkonnte ich von seiner Anh\u00e4nglichkeit so \u00fcberzeugt sein, da\u00df ich alle\ngetroffenen Ma\u00dfregeln wieder einstellte. Seine Heiterkeit und seine\nUnverdrossenheit bei jedweder Arbeit, die ich ihm auftrug, nahm mich in\nso hohem Grade f\u00fcr ihn ein, da\u00df ich keinen sehnlicheren Wunsch hatte,\nals mich mit ihm \u00fcber allerlei Dinge unterhalten zu k\u00f6nnen. Mit Eifer\nsetzte ich daher den begonnenen Sprachunterricht fort und hatte meine\nFreude an seiner Lernbegierde. Haupts\u00e4chlich suchte ich bei ihm dahin\nzu wirken, da\u00df er die unnat\u00fcrliche Begierde, Menschenfleisch zu essen,\nunterdr\u00fccke. Um dieses zu erreichen, bot ich ihm ein andres Fleisch an.\nIch nahm ihn mit zu meinen Ziegen, und als ich eine Ziege mit ihren\nbeiden Jungen in geringer Entfernung von mir liegen sah, fa\u00dfte ich ihn\nbeim Arme und sprach zu ihm: \u00bbHalte dich still und rege dich nicht!\u00ab In\ndemselben Augenblick scho\u00df ich eines der Zicklein nieder.\nDer arme Bursche war so erschrocken, da\u00df er vor Furcht selber\nzusammenst\u00fcrzte; ja, er glaubte sogar, ich habe ihn erschie\u00dfen wollen,\ndenn er ri\u00df sein Wams auf, um zu f\u00fchlen, ob er verwundet sei. Dann fiel\ner vor mir auf seine Kniee nieder, stammelte unverst\u00e4ndliche Worte und\nschien mich um Schonung seines Lebens zu bitten. Ich aber nahm ihn\nbei der Hand, redete ihm freundlich zu, deutete auf das Zicklein, das\nich erlegt hatte, und gebot ihm, dasselbe zu holen. W\u00e4hrend er meinem\nBefehle nachkam und das tote Tier mit Staunen betrachtete, lud ich von\nneuem mein Gewehr. Er war noch nicht klar dar\u00fcber, wie das Tier get\u00f6tet\nsein konnte.\nUm ihm diesen Vorgang erkl\u00e4rlich zu machen, zeigte ich mit dem Finger\nauf die Flinte und dann auf einen Papagei, den ich in schu\u00dfgerechter\nEntfernung auf einem Baume sitzen sah. Hierauf gab ich ihm zu\nverstehen, da\u00df ich auch diesen Vogel durch mein Gewehr t\u00f6ten k\u00f6nne,\nhie\u00df ihn seine Augen scharf nach dem Tiere richten, dr\u00fcckte los und\nscho\u00df den Papagei vom Baume herunter.\nAber auch diesmal erschrak der arme Freitag auf das heftigste und\nzeigte eine wahre abg\u00f6ttische Scheu vor meinem Jagdgewehr. Da er\nn\u00e4mlich nicht gesehen, wie ich es geladen hatte, so glaubte er, die\nWaffe enthielte eine unersch\u00f6pfliche Zauberkraft des Schreckens,\ndes Todes und der Vernichtung, f\u00e4hig, Menschen und Tiere aus jeder\nbeliebigen Entfernung zu t\u00f6ten. Er sprach mit dem Gewehr, als ob er\nverstanden werden k\u00f6nne, bat dasselbe, da\u00df es ihn doch ja nicht t\u00f6ten\nm\u00f6ge, und schien hierauf eine Antwort zu erwarten, w\u00e4hrend er wie\nEspenlaub zitterte. Es dauerte noch etliche Tage, bevor er es wagte,\ndie Flinte anzur\u00fchren.\nNachdem sich Freitag von seinem Staunen erholt hatte, gebot ich\nihm, den geschossenen Vogel herbeizuholen. Nach l\u00e4ngerem Ausbleiben\n-- denn der Papagei war noch nicht ganz tot und eine Strecke weit\nfortgeflattert -- brachte er ihn endlich. Hierauf ergriffen wir auch\ndas Zicklein und kehrten nach Hause zur\u00fcck; dort zerlegte ich das Tier\nund kochte einen Teil noch denselben Abend.\nFreitag verzehrte mit dem trefflichsten Appetit das saftige Fleisch.\nAuffallend erschien es ihm hierbei, da\u00df ich meine Speisen mit Salz\nw\u00fcrzte, und er gab mir zu verstehen, da\u00df dies seinem Geschmack ganz\nzuwider sei. Um mir seine Abneigung zu verdeutlichen, legte er ein\nSt\u00fcck Salz auf seine Zunge, verzog das Gesicht mit unnachahmlicher\nGrimasse, spuckte den salzigen Schleim wieder aus und sp\u00fclte darauf den\nMund mit frischem Wasser aus. Ich meinerseits suchte ihn mit seinen\neignen Gr\u00fcnden zu schlagen, indem ich ein St\u00fcck Fleisch ohne Salz zu\nmir nahm und mich in \u00e4hnlichen Gesichtsverrenkungen gefiel, eine Art\nvon Beweisf\u00fchrung, die ihm jedoch nicht stichhaltig schien.\nAm andern Tage setzte ich meinem Hausgenossen einen vortrefflichen\nZiegenbraten vor; zur Bereitung desselben wendete ich ein Mittel\nan, wie ich es einst in England gesehen hatte. Ich steckte n\u00e4mlich\nzwei St\u00e4be in gewisser Entfernung voneinander neben einem t\u00fcchtigen\nFeuer in die Erde, einen dritten Stab legte ich quer \u00fcber die beiden\nersten, hing an denselben mein Fleisch am Ende einer Schnur und lie\u00df\nes drehen. Freitag dr\u00fcckte \u00fcber dieses sinnreiche Verfahren seine\nVerwunderung aus. Als er aber erst den Braten gekostet hatte, gab er\ndurch wohlgef\u00e4lliges Schnalzen und Z\u00e4hnefletschen kund, welch ein\nLeckerbissen das Genossene f\u00fcr ihn gewesen sei; ja er war davon so\nentz\u00fcckt, da\u00df er mir hoch und teuer versicherte, nie mehr in seinem\nLeben Menschenfleisch essen zu wollen.\nTags darauf wies ich Freitag an, Gerste auszuk\u00f6rnen und sie auf die\nschon beschriebene Art zu reinigen, wozu er sich ganz geschickt\nanstellte.\nFerner unterrichtete ich ihn, wie ich es mit dem Backen hielt und\nwie ich meine Kuchen zurichtete. Auch das begriff er so rasch, da\u00df\nich schon nach kurzer Zeit ihm dergleichen Arbeiten getrost allein\n\u00fcberlassen konnte.\nDa ich jetzt au\u00dfer mir noch einen Menschen mit kr\u00e4ftiger E\u00dflust zu\nversorgen hatte, mu\u00dfte ich eine gr\u00f6\u00dfere Menge Korn s\u00e4en, um reicheren\nVorrat zu gewinnen. Zu diesem Zwecke suchte ich ein umfangreicheres\nSt\u00fcck Ackerland aus und z\u00e4unte es auf \u00e4hnliche Weise ein wie die\nfr\u00fcheren. Bei der Arbeit unterst\u00fctzte mich Freitag aufs eifrigste,\nzumal er schon wu\u00dfte, dies alles gesch\u00e4he, um f\u00fcr mich und ihn das\nn\u00f6tige Brot backen zu k\u00f6nnen.\nDieses Jahr war von allen, welche ich auf meinem Eilande bisher\nzugebracht hatte, das angenehmste. Freitag konnte binnen wenigen\nMonaten sich recht gel\u00e4ufig englisch ausdr\u00fccken und wu\u00dfte die Namen\nfast aller Dinge, die ich von ihm fordern, und aller Orte, wo ich ihn\nhinschicken konnte.\nSo geno\u00df ich, nach einer langen Reihe von Jahren, endlich wieder das\nVergn\u00fcgen menschlicher Unterhaltung in meiner Muttersprache; aber au\u00dfer\ndiesem langentbehrten Genusse fand ich auch t\u00e4glich mehr Freude an\nmeinem Genossen. Seine Herzenseinfalt und seine Anh\u00e4nglichkeit machten\nihn mir immer teurer, und er wiederum liebte mich, wie er vielleicht\nniemand zuvor geliebt haben mochte. Einstmals versuchte ich zu\nergr\u00fcnden, wie gro\u00df sein Verlangen sei, sein Heimatland wiederzusehen,\nund da er so viel Englisch verstand, um auf meine Fragen Auskunft geben\nzu k\u00f6nnen, so sagte ich zu ihm:\n\u00bbHat der Stamm, dem du angeh\u00f6rst, bei seinen Kriegsz\u00fcgen \u00f6fters den\nSieg davon getragen?\u00ab\n\u00bbO ja!\u00ab sprach Freitag l\u00e4chelnd, \u00bbwir k\u00e4mpften immer als beste.\u00ab\n\u00bbIhr k\u00e4mpftet am besten, waret den andern also \u00fcberlegen! Wie kommt es\naber dann, da\u00df sie dich zum Gefangenen gemacht haben?\u00ab\n\u00bbMein Stamm hat deshalb doch den Sieg behalten!\u00ab\n\u00bbDen Sieg? Ich glaub' es nicht; sonst w\u00e4rest du jetzt kein Gefangener.\u00ab\n\u00bbAn jenem Tage, o Herr, waren die Feinde gerade zahlreicher als die\nBr\u00fcder meines Stammes; sie nahmen eins, zwei, drei Br\u00fcder und mich\ngefangen; mein Stamm hat sie aber an einem andern Platze, wo ich nicht\nwar, besiegt; mein Stamm hat ihnen daf\u00fcr eins, zwei, ein zehnmal zehn\nund noch einmal zehnmal zehn genommen.\u00ab\n\u00bbAber warum haben deine Gef\u00e4hrten nichts f\u00fcr deine Befreiung gethan?\u00ab\n\u00bbSie nahmen rasch eins, zwei, drei und mich und schafften uns in ihre\nKanoes; mein Stamm hatte damals keine Kanoes.\u00ab\n\u00bbUnd was macht dein Stamm mit den Gefangenen? Schleppt er sie auch fort\nund verzehrt sie, wie die Menschen, die hier auf der Insel waren?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, Herr, mein Stamm i\u00dft auch Menschen, i\u00dft alle Gefangenen auf.\u00ab\n\u00bbWohin aber bringt ihr sie?\u00ab\n\u00bbAn einen andern Platz, als sie denken.\u00ab\n\u00bbBringt ihr sie auch manchmal hierher, Freitag?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, ja, hierher und an noch andre Orte.\u00ab\n\u00bbBist du auch schon mit ihnen hierher gekommen?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, Herr, von dort!\u00ab Hierbei zeigte Freitag nach der nordwestlichen\nSeite der Insel, wo der Landungspunkt lag.\n\u00bbAber, verirren sich nicht zuweilen die Kanoes auf der \u00dcberfahrt?\u00ab\n\u00bbO, das hat keine Gefahr, Herr! Nur darf man nicht in den Strom fallen,\nder weit ins Meer hinausl\u00e4uft; auch weht ein guter Wind des Morgens und\nwieder ein andrer des Abends.\u00ab\nAnfangs glaubte ich, Freitag wolle von Ebbe und Flut reden; sp\u00e4ter\nindes \u00fcberzeugte ich mich selbst, da\u00df in der That zwei verschiedene\nWindstr\u00f6mungen in diesen Gew\u00e4ssern herrschten, die wahrscheinlich\nvon der heftigen Flut und R\u00fcckflut des gewaltigen *Orinoko*stromes\nherr\u00fchrten, an dessen M\u00fcndung meine Insel lag. Das Land, das ich im\nWesten und Nordwesten erblickte, war die gro\u00dfe Insel *Trinidad*.\nIch richtete an Freitag nun noch vielerlei Fragen, die sich auf\nsein Land und dessen Einwohner, das Meer, die K\u00fcstenstriche und\ndie benachbarten V\u00f6lkerschaften bezogen. Er beantwortete alles mit\nbereitwilliger Offenheit, so gut es eben ging, aber ich konnte aus ihm\nbetreffs der Menschen keinen andern Namen bringen als die Bezeichnung\n\u00bb*Karibs*\u00ab, woraus ich schlo\u00df, da\u00df es die *Kariben* seien, die den\nLandstrich von der M\u00fcndung des Orinoko bis nach *Guayana* und *St.\nMartha* bewohnen.\nEr erz\u00e4hlte mir ferner: weit jenseit des Mondes -- d. h. westw\u00e4rts, wo\nder Mond unterging -- g\u00e4be es auch so wei\u00dfe und b\u00e4rtige M\u00e4nner, wie\nich sei (dabei deutete er auf meinen langen Bart), und diese M\u00e4nner\nh\u00e4tten viele Leute get\u00f6tet. Es war daraus leicht zu erraten, da\u00df er\ndie *Spanier* meinte. Die Grausamkeit derselben war ja in ganz Amerika\nbekannt und hatte sich durch Erz\u00e4hlung von Geschlecht zu Geschlecht\nfortgepflanzt.\nAls ich ihn fragte, wie ich es anzufangen habe, um jene Insel zu\nerreichen und zu den wei\u00dfen M\u00e4nnern zu gelangen, antwortete er mir:\n\u00bbJa, ja, du kannst hingehen in zwei ma\u00df Kanoes.\u00ab\nIch verstand nicht, was er mit \u00bbzwei ma\u00df Kanoes\u00ab sagen wollte, bis\nsich herausstellte, da\u00df er einen Kahn meinte, zweimal so gro\u00df wie der\nmeinige.\nDa Freitag immer gr\u00f6\u00dfere Fortschritte im Erlernen der englischen\nSprache machte, so vers\u00e4umte ich nicht, ihn in die Hauptlehren der\nchristlichen Religion einzuf\u00fchren. Es entwickelte sich dabei folgendes\nGespr\u00e4ch:\n\u00bbSage mir doch, Freitag, wer hat das Land, das Meer, die Berge und die\nW\u00e4lder gemacht?\u00ab\n\u00bbEin erhabener Greis, Namens *Benamucki*. Er wohnt auf dem h\u00f6chsten\nBerge und ist viel \u00e4lter als das Meer und das Land, als Mond und\nSterne.\u00ab\n\u00bbWenn also\u00ab, fragte ich weiter, \u00bbBenamucki alle Dinge erschaffen hat,\nbeten ihn dann nicht alle lebendigen Wesen der Welt an?\u00ab\nFreitag nahm hierbei eine ernste Miene an und sagte mit der gr\u00f6\u00dften\nHerzenseinfalt: \u00bbAlle Wesen sagen zu ihm: O!\u00ab\n\u00bbGehen die Menschen, die in deinem Vaterlande sterben, nach ihrem Tode\nin eine andre Welt \u00fcber?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, sie gehen alle zu Benamucki.\u00ab\n\u00bbUnd kommen die Menschen, die ihr gefressen habt, auch dahin?\u00ab\n\u00bbGewi\u00df, o Herr!\u00ab\n\u00bbHast du auch schon einmal mit Benamucki gesprochen?\u00ab\n\u00bbNein, junge Leute d\u00fcrfen nicht zu ihm gehen, sondern nur alte M\u00e4nner,\ndie *Uwukaki*, welche >O!< sagen. Wenn sie vom Berge herabsteigen, so\nverk\u00fcnden sie, was Benamucki ihnen mitgeteilt hat.\u00ab\nDie Uwukaki waren also die Priester der benachbarten Eingeborenen, die\nsich und ihr Treiben in den Schleier des Geheimnisses h\u00fcllten und die\nunwissende Menge in Aberglauben erhielten. Ich suchte meinem Sch\u00fcler\neinen Begriff von dem wahren Gott, dem Allvater, dem Sch\u00f6pfer des\nHimmels und der Erde, beizubringen; ich sprach von seiner Allmacht:\nalles liege in seiner Hand, er k\u00f6nne geben und nehmen nach seinem\nweisen Willen.\nFreitag h\u00f6rte mir mit gespannter Aufmerksamkeit zu. Mit besonderer\nFreude vernahm er die Lehre von der Erl\u00f6sung durch unsern Heiland Jesus\nChristus sowie von der Wirkung unsrer Gebete, die wir an Gott im Himmel\nrichten.\nDarauf bemerkte Freitag in seiner unbefangenen Weise: \u00bbGut! Wenn Gott\n\u00fcber der Sonne und den Sternen thront und dort Gebete h\u00f6rt, so mu\u00df er\nja wohl viel gr\u00f6\u00dfer sein als Benamucki, der nur dann die Gebete der\nUwukaki h\u00f6rt, wenn sie selbst zu ihm hinaufsteigen!\u00ab\n\u00bbDu hast recht, Freitag! Gott ist gro\u00df und m\u00e4chtig wie kein andres\nWesen.\u00ab\n[Illustration: Robinson als Lehrer.]\nT\u00e4glich unterrichtete ich nun Freitag in den Lehren unsrer Religion\nund weihte ihn besonders ein in das Geheimnis der Erl\u00f6sung durch\nunsern Heiland, der sich auf Golgatha zur Beseligung der s\u00fcndigen\nMenschheit geopfert hat. All mein Kummer kam mir jetzt leichter\nvor, seitdem ich einen so aufmerksamen Gesellschafter hatte. Meine\nWohnung war mir teurer und angenehmer geworden; ich hielt es nicht\nmehr f\u00fcr ein Ungl\u00fcck, an die K\u00fcste dieser Insel verschlagen worden\nzu sein. Im Gegenteil, ich empfand unaussprechliche Freude, wenn ich\ndaran dachte, ein armes Wesen, wie Freitag, zur Gl\u00fcckseligkeit wahrer\nGotteserkenntnis geleitet zu haben.\nW\u00e4hrend des Zeitraums von drei Jahren, die wir so miteinander\nverlebten, f\u00fchlten wir uns vollkommen gl\u00fccklich und gehoben durch\nden ernsten Vorsatz, fest auszuharren in dem unwandelbaren Vertrauen\nauf die Barmherzigkeit unsres himmlischen Vaters. W\u00e4hrend ich meinem\nGef\u00e4hrten die Bibel auslegte, wie mein Verstand es mich lehrte, mu\u00dfte\nich selbst notwendigerweise tiefer eindringen in das Studium der\nHeiligen Schrift, und die hunderterlei Fragen Freitags gaben mir h\u00e4ufig\nVeranlassung zum fruchtbringenden Nachdenken \u00fcber unsre verschiedenen\nHeilslehren.\nNeben den religi\u00f6sen Gespr\u00e4chen machte ich meinen Freund auch\nmit meinen fr\u00fcheren Lebensschicksalen bekannt, was mir oft genug\nGelegenheit bot, sittliche Lehren in das empf\u00e4ngliche Herz des Wilden\neinzupflanzen. Dann erz\u00e4hlte ich ihm auch wohl von den L\u00e4ndern Europas\nund dessen V\u00f6lkern, schilderte ihm mein Vaterland mit seinen gewaltigen\nSt\u00e4dten, in denen eine betriebsame Bev\u00f6lkerung sich gesch\u00e4ftig regt.\nEbenso f\u00fchrte ich ihn in die geheimnisvollen Wirkungen von Pulver und\nBlei ein und brachte ihm die Elemente der edlen Weidmannskunst bei.\nZuletzt \u00fcberlie\u00df ich ihm ein gro\u00dfes Messer zum Gebrauche, wor\u00fcber\ner eine ungemeine Freude empfand; ich versah ihn mit einem G\u00fcrtel,\nan welchem eine Scheide hing, \u00e4hnlich der, wie man sie in meinem\nVaterlande f\u00fcr die Jagdmesser gebraucht, und endlich bewaffnete ich ihn\nmit einem kleinen Beile.\nAuf einem unsrer gemeinschaftlichen Ausfl\u00fcge zeigte ich ihm auch die\n\u00dcberreste meiner Schaluppe, die jetzt ganz und gar zerfallen war. Bei\nihrem Anblick stand Freitag eine Weile nachdenklich still. Ich fragte\nihn, woran er d\u00e4chte, und er gab mir endlich zur Antwort:\n\u00bbIch sah ein Schiff kommen, ganz wie dieses da, zu meinem Volke.\u00ab\nIch verstand den Sinn dieser Worte nicht und forschte danach, was er\nmeine. Da erkl\u00e4rte er mir denn, da\u00df ein Boot wie das meinige in seiner\nHeimat durch widrige Winde an die K\u00fcste getrieben worden sei.\nIch dachte zuerst, da\u00df in jenen Gew\u00e4ssern ein europ\u00e4isches Schiff\ngestrandet und da\u00df eine von demselben losgel\u00f6ste leere Schaluppe an das\nLand der Kariben geraten w\u00e4re. Als aber Freitag weiter hinzusetzte:\n\u00bbWir haben die wei\u00dfen b\u00e4rtigen M\u00e4nner vom Ertrinken gerettet\u00ab -- da\nward meine Aufmerksamkeit aufs h\u00f6chste gespannt, und ich fragte ihn:\n\u00bbWieviel wei\u00dfe M\u00e4nner haben sich in jenem Boote befunden?\u00ab\n\u00bbSiebzehn M\u00e4nner, Herr\u00ab, berichtete Freitag, an den Fingern z\u00e4hlend.\n\u00bbUnd was ist aus ihnen geworden?\u00ab\n\u00bbSie leben wohl alle noch, sie wohnen bei meinen Br\u00fcdern.\u00ab\n\u00bbWei\u00dft du auch, wie lange dies her ist?\u00ab\n\u00bbIch entsinne mich genau, Robin, es sind seitdem vier Jahre\nverstrichen.\u00ab\nJetzt erinnerte ich mich auch, da\u00df diese Zeitangabe genau mit der\nStrandung jenes Fahrzeugs \u00fcbereinstimmte, dessen Tr\u00fcmmer an meiner\nInsel festsa\u00dfen. Vielleicht hatte sich die Mannschaft des Schiffes\nin eine Schaluppe gefl\u00fcchtet und war, dem Sturme und den Wellen\npreisgegeben, an die K\u00fcste der Wilden getrieben worden.\n\u00bbDu sagtest mir vorhin, Freitag, da\u00df die wei\u00dfen Menschen bei deinem\nVolke lebten. Wie kommt es denn, da\u00df deine Landsleute sie nicht\naufgefressen haben?\u00ab\n\u00bbSie haben Br\u00fcderschaft mit uns gemacht\u00ab, erwiderte Freitag; \u00bbund wir\nessen nicht Menschen, wenn sie nicht im Kriege gefangen sind. Sie\nbefinden sich dort ganz wohl, und unsre Br\u00fcder liefern ihnen, was sie\nzum Unterhalt gebrauchen.\u00ab\nEs war eine geraume Zeit nach dieser letzten Unterredung vergangen,\nals ich einstmals mit meinem Gef\u00e4hrten auf einen Berg der s\u00fcd\u00f6stlichen\nH\u00fcgelreihe stieg. Der Himmel war heiter, und kein W\u00f6lkchen zeigte sich\nan dem tiefblauen Firmament; die Luft war durchsichtig, und von der See\nher wehte uns eine frische Brise entgegen. Freitag sah auf das weite\nMeer hinaus und blickte nach einer Weile unverwandt auf einen Punkt\nhin.\nPl\u00f6tzlich ward er unruhig, fing an zu tanzen, zu springen und zu jubeln\nund rief mich zu sich heran:\n\u00bbRobin, Robin, komm schnell hierher!\u00ab\n\u00bbWas gibt's, Freitag?\u00ab\n\u00bbO meine Freude! Ich bin gl\u00fccklich, selig! Ich sehe mein Heimatvolk!\nDort kommt mein Volk.\u00ab\nDas, was meinen guten Freitag in so \u00fcberschwengliche Aufregung\nversetzte, rief in mir die entgegengesetzten Gef\u00fchle hervor. Was\nlag n\u00e4her als die Vermutung, da\u00df in den unverhohlenen Ausbr\u00fcchen\nder Freude sich die Sehnsucht Freitags nach den Seinen aussprach?\nVon dem Augenblick an erwachte in mir Argwohn gegen meinen Freund\nund beunruhigte mich wochenlang. Ich zeigte mich unfreundlich, ja\nverschlossen; aber hierdurch that ich dem armen Burschen das gr\u00f6\u00dfte\nUnrecht, denn er kam mir stets mit einem Vertrauen, mit einer Hingebung\nentgegen, da\u00df ich endlich alle meine Zweifel an seine Aufrichtigkeit\nfallen lie\u00df.\nEines Tages, als wir auf demselben Bergesgipfel, aber bei nebeligem\nWetter, zusammen waren, begann ich Freitag auszuforschen.\n\u00bbDu w\u00fcrdest dich wohl sehr gl\u00fccklich preisen, Freitag, wenn du wieder\nin deine Heimat kommen und deine Br\u00fcder sehen k\u00f6nntest?\u00ab\n\u00bbO ja, Robin, ich w\u00fcrde sein viel froh, zu sehen mein Volk.\u00ab\n\u00bbUnd m\u00f6chtest wohl gern wieder, wie deine wilden Br\u00fcder,\nMenschenfleisch beim Siegesschmaus essen?\u00ab\n\u00bbO nein, nein! Niemals wird Freitag wieder Menschenfleisch essen; er\nwird sagen seinen Br\u00fcdern, sich untereinander zu lieben, nicht mehr zu\nBenamucki zu beten, Fleisch von Ziegen und andern Tieren zu essen und\nBrot von Korn und Gerste zu backen.\u00ab\n\u00bbAber f\u00fcrchtest du nicht, Freitag, da\u00df sie dich umbringen w\u00fcrden, wenn\ndu so zu ihnen spr\u00e4chest?\u00ab\n\u00bbO nein, nein, Robin, sie werden mich nicht t\u00f6ten; sie wollen gern\nlernen.\u00ab\n\u00bbSo m\u00f6chtest du also wieder zu den Deinen zur\u00fcckkehren?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, das schon! Aber wie k\u00f6nnte ich so weit bis dort zu jenem Lande\nschwimmen?\u00ab\n\u00bbIch will dir ein Kanoe bauen, Freitag.\u00ab\n\u00bbAber dann gehst du mit? Denn ohne dich w\u00fcrde ich die Insel nie\nverlassen.\u00ab\n\u00bbIch, Freitag? Nur zu bald w\u00fcrden deine Br\u00fcder \u00fcber mich herfallen,\nmich t\u00f6ten, in St\u00fccke zerlegen und \u00fcber dem Feuer schmoren lassen.\u00ab\n\u00bbNein, nein, Robin, das wird nimmermehr geschehen; ich werde ihnen\nsagen, da\u00df du mir das Leben gerettet hast, da\u00df du mich liebst wie einen\nBruder, und dann werden sie dich auch lieben und dir Gutes thun.\u00ab\n\u00bbAber nochmals, warum willst du nicht allein zu den Deinen\nzur\u00fcckkehren?\u00ab\n\u00bbO Herr, du bist gewi\u00df recht b\u00f6se auf mich, da\u00df du mich fortschicken\nwillst!\u00ab\n\u00bbNicht im geringsten, mein guter Freitag! Vielmehr gedachte ich dir\neine Freude zu bereiten, wenn ich dich freiwillig in deine Heimat\nentlie\u00dfe.\u00ab\nUnd Freitag bleibt dabei: nichts ohne seinen Herrn.\n\u00bbWas sollte ich aber bei deinem Volke anfangen?\u00ab\n\u00bbO, dort gibt's genug f\u00fcr dich zu thun; wie du mich unterrichtet und\ngebessert hast, so wirst du auch meine Br\u00fcder sanft erziehen.\u00ab\n\u00bbMein guter Freitag! Du wei\u00dft selbst nicht, was du sprichst. Zu einem\nsolchen Werke fehlt es mir an Kraft und Ausdauer.\u00ab\n\u00bbO, du kommst doch mit, Robin?\u00ab\n\u00bbNein, nein, Freitag! Geh du ohne mich; ich werde hier bleiben und\nwiederum so leben wie vor deiner Ankunft.\u00ab\nDie treue Seele war tief ger\u00fchrt, Thr\u00e4nen standen ihm in den Augen.\nDann griff er an seinen G\u00fcrtel, holte das Beil hervor und \u00fcberreichte\nes mir.\n\u00bbWas soll ich damit, Freitag?\u00ab\n\u00bbMich totmachen, Herr!\u00ab\n\u00bbAber was f\u00e4llt dir ein?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, schlage lieber Freitag damit tot, als da\u00df du ihn fortjagst; er\nkann nicht ohne dich leben.\u00ab\nDiese Wendung der Unterhaltung nahm den letzten Zweifel \u00fcber Freitags\nAnh\u00e4nglichkeit aus meinem Herzen, und in mir selbst regte sich von\nneuem die alte Begierde, eine weitere Seereise zu unternehmen und nach\ndem gro\u00dfen Festlande zu steuern, auf welchem nach Freitags Bericht die\nwei\u00dfen b\u00e4rtigen Gesichter -- Portugiesen oder Spanier -- zu treffen\nsein mu\u00dften. Eines Tages f\u00fchrte ich Freitag zu jenem Boote an der\nBai, das ich seit mehreren Jahren nicht in Gebrauch genommen, sondern\nim Wasser versenkt hatte, damit es mich den Wilden nicht verraten\nsollte. Wir sch\u00f6pften das Wasser aus dem Kanoe und setzten uns dann\nselbst hinein. Dabei zeigte Freitag in der Lenkung des Bootes eine\nGeschicklichkeit und Sicherheit, die mich in Erstaunen setzte. Nach\neiner Weile sagte ich zu ihm: \u00bbNun, Freitag, wie w\u00e4re es, wenn wir\njetzt in diesem Boote nach deinem Vaterlande segelten?\u00ab Er schien \u00fcber\nmeine Frage verwundert, denn er fand das Boot viel zu klein, um darin\neine so weite Reise zur\u00fcckzulegen. Hierauf sagte ich ihm, da\u00df ich wohl\nnoch ein gr\u00f6\u00dferes Fahrzeug h\u00e4tte, und da\u00df wir es am n\u00e4chsten Tage\naufsuchen wollten. Ich f\u00fchrte ihn denn auch, wie versprochen, zu dem\nOrte, wo die Barke lag, die ich nicht hatte ins Wasser bringen k\u00f6nnen;\nda ich mich indes l\u00e4nger als 20 Jahre nicht weiter um sie gek\u00fcmmert\nhatte, seit ich sie gebaut, so war sie von der Sonne ausgetrocknet und\ngesprungen, da\u00df sie sich in einer ganz kl\u00e4glichen Verfassung befand.\nFreitag aber sagte, da\u00df ein Fahrzeug von dieser Gr\u00f6\u00dfe, da man genug\nE\u00df- und Trinkvorr\u00e4te darin unterbringen k\u00f6nne, ganz tauglich zu einer\nSeereise sei, und diese Versicherung kam meinen Pl\u00e4nen entgegen.\n[Illustration: Zusammensto\u00df mit den Kannibalen.]\nZw\u00f6lftes Kapitel.\nEine Zeit gro\u00dfer Ereignisse.\n  Bau eines neuen gr\u00f6\u00dferen Bootes. -- Probefahrten. -- Neuer\n  Kannibalenbesuch. -- Der Kampf mit den Wilden. -- Der Spanier und\n  Freitags Vater. -- Verpflegung der Befreiten. -- Bestattung der\n  Gefallenen. -- Geschichte des Spaniers. -- Zukunftspl\u00e4ne.\nDa ich unaufh\u00f6rlich an die siebzehn wei\u00dfen M\u00e4nner dachte, welche nach\nFreitags Behauptung bei seinen Landsleuten wohnen sollten, so wuchs\nin mir das Verlangen, dieselben aufzusuchen. Ich machte mich daher\nunverz\u00fcglich ans Werk, um mit Freitags Hilfe ein neues Boot zu bauen.\nAlsbald hatte Freitag, der in der Wahl des Holzes besser Bescheid wu\u00dfte\nals ich, einen Baum gefunden, wie wir ihn bedurften. Er wollte sich\nnun anschicken, das Innere des Stammes, nach Art seiner Landsleute,\nmittels Feuers auszuh\u00f6hlen. Aber ich lehrte ihn, wie man denselben\nZweck durch Handwerkszeug erreichen k\u00f6nne, und er zeigte sich auch bald\nals ein brauchbarer Schiffszimmermann. Nach Verlauf eines Monats war\nendlich ein Fahrzeug von gef\u00e4lliger Form zustande gebracht; denn wir\nhatten auch die Au\u00dfenseiten sorgf\u00e4ltig mit den \u00c4xten bearbeitet. Noch\nlag ein schweres St\u00fcck Arbeit vor uns; denn um die Barke mit Walzen und\nHebeb\u00e4umen bis an das Meer zu schaffen, gebrauchten wir zwei Wochen.\nAls sie dann endlich flott geworden, betrachtete ich sie mit einem\nGef\u00fchle von Genugthuung, denn ihre Gr\u00f6\u00dfe h\u00e4tte hingereicht, 20 Mann an\nBord aufzunehmen. Auch Freitag empfand lebhafte Freude, und er lenkte\ndas Fahrzeug trotz dessen Gr\u00f6\u00dfe mit ungemeiner Geschicklichkeit.\n\u00bbNun, Freitag, was meinst du wohl, k\u00f6nnen wir uns mit dieser Barke bis\nan die K\u00fcste deiner Heimat wagen?\u00ab\n\u00bbO gewi\u00df!\u00ab entgegnete Freitag; \u00bbwir werden darin sehr gut fahren,\nselbst wenn gro\u00dfer Wind weht.\u00ab\nAber ich hatte noch einen andern Plan gefa\u00dft. So wie es war, gen\u00fcgte\nmir unser Boot noch nicht; ich wollte es auch noch mit einem Mast,\neinem Segel und einem Steuer versehen. Ein Mast war nicht schwer zu\nerlangen; ich fand einen jungen, schlanken Baum ganz in der N\u00e4he, wie\nzu meinem Vorhaben geschaffen. W\u00e4hrend Freitag denselben f\u00e4llte und den\nStamm nach meiner Anleitung behieb, \u00fcbernahm ich selbst die Herstellung\nder Segel. Unter meinem Vorrat alter Segelst\u00fccke fanden sich noch\neinige ziemlich gut erhaltene St\u00fccke, und ich n\u00e4hte ein dreieckiges\noder lateinisches Segel daraus zusammen. Auch brachte ich f\u00fcr den Fall,\nda\u00df der Wind umsetzte, ein kleines Focksegel und ein Besansegel an;\nbesonders aber lie\u00df ich es mir angelegen sein, ein Steuerruder an dem\nhinteren Teile der Barke herzurichten.\nAls unsre Takelage beendigt war, bestiegen wir das Boot und segelten in\nder Bai umher. Freitag war zwar ein guter Ruderer, aber er hatte noch\nkeinen Begriff von der Handhabung eines Steuers und dem Gebrauche eines\nSegels. Er schaute mir daher voll Bewunderung zu, wie ich das Fahrzeug\nnach meinem Willen vor- und r\u00fcckw\u00e4rts lenkte.\n[Illustration: Freitag erh\u00e4lt Unterricht im Schiffbau.]\nIch hatte jetzt das 27. Jahr meiner \u00bbVerbannung\u00ab auf meiner Insel\nangetreten. Nie unterlie\u00df ich es, den Jahrestag meines Schiffbruchs\nund meiner Ankunft auf der Insel in inbr\u00fcnstigen Gebeten zu Gott zu\nbegehen. Seine G\u00fcte hatte mich bisher so wunderbar beh\u00fctet, und nun\nerf\u00fcllte mich die begl\u00fcckende Hoffnung, wieder in die Gesellschaft der\nMenschen zur\u00fcckzukehren. Auch w\u00e4hrend der letzten Zeit setzte ich meine\nTagesarbeiten fort. Ich grub, pflanzte, erg\u00e4nzte meine Einz\u00e4unungen,\nsammelte Korn, Reis, Baumfr\u00fcchte und Trauben ein; ich besorgte meine\nZiegenherden, buk Brot und Kuchen, verfertigte Kleider, K\u00f6rbe und\nT\u00f6pfe. -- Unterdessen war die Regenzeit herangenaht, und ich mu\u00dfte\nBedacht darauf nehmen, unser Boot sicher unterzubringen. Ich schaffte\nes daher so weit auf den Strand, als die steigende Flut es erlaubte,\nund gebot Freitag, daneben ein Becken zu graben, tief genug, um das\nBoot best\u00e4ndig flott zu erhalten. Als die Flut dann zur\u00fcckwich, f\u00fchrten\nwir einen starken Damm auf, der das Becken verschlo\u00df und dem Eindringen\ndes Meeres vorbeugte. Um aber unser Fahrzeug gegen den Regen zu\nsch\u00fctzen, bedeckten wir es mit einem Dach und erwarteten so den Monat\nNovember oder Dezember, um die ersehnte Fahrt anzutreten.\nMit Beginn der sch\u00f6nen Jahreszeit beeilten wir uns, die n\u00f6tigen\nZur\u00fcstungen zur Reise zu treffen. Denn ich gedachte, vielleicht schon\nin acht bis zw\u00f6lf Tagen das Wasserbecken zu \u00f6ffnen und das Boot\nauslaufen zu lassen. Eines Morgens hatte ich Freitag nach dem Meere\nhinabgeschickt, um eine Schildkr\u00f6te zu fangen, weil wir sowohl das\nFleisch als auch die Eier dieses Tieres sehr wohl zu sch\u00e4tzen wu\u00dften.\nAber schon nach wenigen Minuten kam er eiligst wieder zur\u00fcck und\n\u00fcbersprang den ersten Festungszaun.\n\u00bbO Herr, Herr, o Jammer!\u00ab\n\u00bbWas gibt's denn, was hast du?\u00ab\n\u00bbDort unten, dort unten! Eins, zwei, drei K\u00e4hne!\u00ab Freitag war\nso erschrocken, da\u00df er am ganzen K\u00f6rper zitterte; er hatte sich\neingebildet, da\u00df die Wilden nichts Geringeres beabsichtigten, als ihn\neinzufangen, in St\u00fccke zu zerhauen und aufzuessen. Ich suchte ihn zu\nberuhigen, so gut ich konnte, und ihm begreiflich zu machen, da\u00df ich ja\nganz in der n\u00e4mlichen Gefahr schwebe wie er.\n\u00bbFreitag\u00ab, sagte ich, \u00bbwir m\u00fcssen mit ihnen um unser Leben k\u00e4mpfen;\nbist du bereit dazu?\u00ab\n-- \u00bbJawohl, ich schie\u00dfe auf sie; aber ihre Zahl ist gro\u00df.\u00ab\n\u00bbWas thut das, Freitag? Unsre Gewehre werden einen Teil von ihnen\nniederstrecken, und das Feuer und der Knall wird die andern in die\nFlucht schlagen. Wenn ich dich aber mit meinem Leben verteidige, willst\ndu mir auch treulich zur Seite stehen und alles thun, was ich dir sage?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, Herr, ich will sterben, wenn du mir zu sterben befiehlst.\u00ab\nHierauf holte ich eine Flasche Rum, um Freitag in seiner mutigen\nStimmung zu erhalten; dann gebot ich ihm, die beiden gew\u00f6hnlichen\nJagdgewehre herbeizubringen, und ich selbst lud sie mit t\u00fcchtigen\nPosten.\nHiernach stieg ich mit meinem Fernrohr auf die Warte, um zu sehen, was\nan der K\u00fcste vorging. Da entdeckte ich nun, da\u00df 21 Wilde in drei Kanoes\ngelandet waren, und zwar an der S\u00fcdostk\u00fcste, was mich um so mehr wunder\nnahm, als ich noch nie an dieser Stelle das geringste Anzeichen einer\nLandung der Kannibalen bemerkt hatte. Der Ort, wo sie ausgestiegen\nwaren, schien sehr flach, der Strand niedrig; etwa 100 Schritte davon\nbegann der Saum eines dichten Geb\u00fcsches, welches sich ziemlich weit\nbis in die Felsengruppen der inneren Insel hineinzog. Es deuchte mich,\nals ob sie drei Gefangene bei sich h\u00e4tten und auch diesmal aus keinem\nandern Grunde an meine Insel gekommen w\u00e4ren, als wieder eines ihrer\nSiegesfestmahle abzuhalten.\nZun\u00e4chst lud ich nun vier Musketen mit sieben Kugeln, sowie meine\nbeiden Pistolen mit zwei Kugeln. Den Degen steckte ich in den G\u00fcrtel\nund befahl Freitag, sein Beil, ein Pistol, zwei Musketen und eine\nFlinte nebst Vorrat von Pulver und Blei zu ergreifen; ich selbst aber\nnahm das andre Pistol und die \u00fcbrigen Schie\u00dfgewehre. Au\u00dferdem steckten\nwir einige Brotkuchen und getrocknete Rosinen zu uns, sowie ein\nFl\u00e4schchen Rum zur St\u00e4rkung unsrer Lebensgeister. So ger\u00fcstet r\u00fcckten\nwir aus. Auf einem Umweg von ungef\u00e4hr einer Viertelmeile bogen wir nach\ndem Rande des Geh\u00f6lzes ein, um hier, ungesehen von den Wilden, bis an\ndie Bucht zu gelangen und sie in Schu\u00dflinie vor uns zu haben.\nUnter Beobachtung gr\u00f6\u00dfter Vorsicht gelangten wir an das Ende des\nGeh\u00f6lzes und somit in die N\u00e4he der Feinde, von denen mich nur noch\neine einzige Baumgruppe trennte. Ich befahl Freitag, auf einen Baum zu\nsteigen, um zu sehen, was die Wilden vorn\u00e4hmen. Er kletterte sehr bald\nwieder herab und berichtete, er habe die Feinde ganz deutlich gesehen;\nsie s\u00e4\u00dfen rings um ein Feuer und verzehrten das Fleisch eines ihrer\nGefangenen; ein andrer liege dicht daneben an H\u00e4nden und F\u00fc\u00dfen gebunden\nund werde wahrscheinlich demn\u00e4chst an die Reihe des Verspeisens kommen.\n\u00bbAber\u00ab, f\u00fcgte Freitag bedeutungsvoll hinzu, \u00bbes ist keiner von unserm\nStamme, sondern einer von den wei\u00dfen b\u00e4rtigen M\u00e4nnern, die sich in\nunserm Vaterlande angesiedelt haben.\u00ab Dieser Bericht versetzte mich in\nZorn und Wut. Ich stieg nun mit meinem Fernglas ebenfalls auf einen\nBaum und erkannte deutlich an Gesicht und Bekleidung in dem gebundenen\nManne einen Europ\u00e4er.\nEin kleines Geb\u00fcsch zog sich von der Waldspitze noch ungef\u00e4hr 100\nSchritte nach links gegen den Strand hin, und ich konnte, durch\ndasselbe gedeckt, den Wilden mich noch mehr n\u00e4hern. Am Ende des\nBuschwerks gelangte ich auf einen kleinen Sandh\u00fcgel oder eine D\u00fcne,\nvon wo aus ich die jetzt nur noch in einer Entfernung von 80 Schritt\nlagernden Wilden aufs genaueste beobachten konnte. Es war kein\nAugenblick mehr zu verlieren, denn eben bemerkte ich, wie sich zwei der\nKannibalen anschickten, des Europ\u00e4ers H\u00e4nde und F\u00fc\u00dfe von den Fesseln zu\nbefreien, um ihn dann am Feuer zu schlachten. Ich sah mich nach Freitag\num.\n\u00bbJetzt\u00ab, sagte ich zu ihm, \u00bbthue, wie ich dir sagen werde.\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, Herr! Befiehl!\u00ab\n\u00bbSo ahme genau das nach, was du *mich* thun siehst, und fehle nicht!\u00ab\nMit diesen Worten legte ich eines der Jagdgewehre und eine der Musketen\nauf den Boden. Freitag that dasselbe. Dann zielte ich auf die beiden\nmit ihrem Schlachtopfer besch\u00e4ftigten Wilden und gebot Freitag, unter\nden \u00fcbrigen Haufen zu feuern.\n\u00bbBist du fertig, Freitag?\u00ab -- Freitag nickte zustimmend.\n\u00bbNun -- dann Feuer!\u00ab\nZwei donner\u00e4hnliche Sch\u00fcsse hallten hinaus auf Land und Meer. --\n[Illustration: Befreiung eines Gefangenen.]\nAls sich der Pulverdampf verzogen hatte, sah ich, was wir ausgerichtet\nhatten. Durch meinen Schu\u00df war der eine get\u00f6tet, der andre verwundet\nworden; Freitag dagegen hatte sogar zwei erlegt und drei verwundet.\nDer Schrecken aber, der durch den Knall unsrer Gewehre unter die\nWilden fuhr, ist nicht zu beschreiben. Die Verwundeten jammerten und\nw\u00e4lzten sich am Boden, die andern sprangen entsetzt auf und suchten\nzu entfliehen. In der gr\u00e4\u00dflichen Verwirrung liefen sie jedoch nur hin\nund her; denn sie wu\u00dften nicht, von welcher Seite ihnen das Verderben\ndrohte. Freitag verwendete kein Auge von mir, um zu sehen, was ich\nweiter thun w\u00fcrde. Nach der ersten Salve legte ich mein Gewehr auf den\nBoden und ergriff die Flinte; Freitag that dasselbe. \u00bbHahn gespannt.\nAngelegt. Feuer!\u00ab Wiederum rollte der Donner unsrer Gewehre \u00fcber die\nH\u00e4upter der Wilden hinweg. Diesmal st\u00fcrzten, da unsre Flinten nur mit\ngrobem Schrot geladen waren, blo\u00df zwei M\u00e4nner zu Boden, aber es waren\nihrer so viele verwundet, da\u00df die meisten, mit Blut bedeckt und vor\nSchmerz heulend, wie im Wahnsinn durcheinander liefen. Bald st\u00fcrzten\nnoch drei von ihnen zu Boden, obgleich sie nicht tot waren.\n\u00bbJetzt, Freitag, mir nach!\u00ab sagte ich, nachdem ich die letzte, Freitag\naber die dritte Muskete aufgenommen hatte. Mit lautem Geschrei st\u00fcrzten\nwir aus dem Geb\u00fcsche, gerade auf die Wilden los. Der eine von den\nbeiden, welche den Gefangenen losbinden wollten, lag tot, w\u00e4hrend der\nandre, verwundet, in einen Kahn gesprungen war, wohin ihm noch vier\nseiner Gef\u00e4hrten folgten.\nSogleich gebot ich Freitag, auf die Fl\u00fcchtlinge zu feuern; er verstand\nmich sehr gut, lief ungef\u00e4hr 40 Schritte weit, um die Fl\u00fcchtigen aufs\nKorn zu nehmen, und scho\u00df los. Er hatte seine Sache gut gemacht; denn\nsofort st\u00fcrzten alle f\u00fcnf nieder, so da\u00df ich schon glaubte, er h\u00e4tte\nsie s\u00e4mtlich get\u00f6tet; indessen sprangen zwei von ihnen wieder auf,\ndie andern blieben regungslos liegen, entweder schwer verwundet oder\nget\u00f6tet.\nW\u00e4hrend dies geschah, war ich zu dem Gefangenen geeilt und schnitt\nmit einem Messer die Bande entzwei, welche ihn an H\u00e4nden und F\u00fc\u00dfen\ngefesselt hielten; dann half ich ihm aufstehen und fragte auf\nportugiesisch, wer er sei. Er antwortete mir in lateinischer Sprache:\n\u00bb_Christianus_\u00ab, war aber so entkr\u00e4ftet, da\u00df er weder stehen, noch ein\nweiteres Wort sprechen konnte. Ich reichte ihm mein Rumfl\u00e4schchen, aus\ndem er einen kr\u00e4ftigen Schluck nahm, der ihn sichtbar st\u00e4rkte. Au\u00dferdem\ngab ich ihm auch ein St\u00fcck Brot, und er a\u00df es mit der gr\u00f6\u00dften Hast.\nW\u00e4hrenddem fragte ich noch, aus welchem Lande er stamme, und erhielt\nzur Antwort: \u00bb*Spanien*\u00ab. Nachdem er sich ein wenig erholt hatte, gab\ner mir durch allerlei Zeichen zu verstehen, wie dankbar er mir sei\nf\u00fcr die Rettung aus der Hand der Kannibalen. Ich aber sprach zu ihm\nauf Spanisch, so gut es eben gehen wollte: \u00bbSennor, sp\u00e4ter wollen\nwir uns weiter aussprechen, jetzt m\u00fcssen wir k\u00e4mpfen. Wenn Ihr noch\nirgend Kraft habt, so nehmt diese Pistole und diesen Degen und nun Gott\nbefohlen!\u00ab\nKaum f\u00fchlte der Spanier die Waffen in seiner Hand, als er neu beseelt\nvon Mut und Kraft erschien. Wie ein Wahnsinniger hieb er auf seine\nPeiniger ein und streckte im Nu zwei oder drei derselben zu Boden. Die\nWilden waren durch die Wirkung unsrer Feuerwaffen und den ungest\u00fcmen\n\u00dcberfall so \u00fcberrascht, da\u00df die meisten von ihnen wie gel\u00e4hmt\nniederst\u00fcrzten und ebensowenig zu fliehen als unserm Angriffe zu\nwiderstehen vermochten.\nIch hielt mein Gewehr schu\u00dffertig, ohne jedoch abzuschie\u00dfen, um nicht\nganz verteidigungslos zu sein, da ich dem Spanier Degen und Pistole\ngegeben hatte. Dann rief ich Freitag herbei und gebot ihm, die\nabgeschossenen Gewehre, die wir zur\u00fcckgelassen hatten, herbeizuholen,\nwas mit unglaublicher Schnelligkeit geschah. Wir luden sogleich unsre\nGewehre; ich \u00fcbergab Freitag eine Muskete und sagte ihm, er solle\nweitere Waffen herbeischaffen, wenn man deren bed\u00fcrfe. Unterdessen fand\nein f\u00fcrchterlicher Kampf zwischen dem Spanier und einem Wilden statt,\nder mit einem eisenharten h\u00f6lzernen Schwerte auf ihn einhieb. Allein\njener, ebenso k\u00fchn und tapfer, widerstand trotz seiner Schw\u00e4che lange\nZeit den Angriffen des Indianers, ja er hatte ihm sogar zwei Wunden am\nKopfe beigebracht. Der Wilde jedoch, ein Mensch von hohem Wuchse, hatte\njetzt seinen Gegner gepackt, zu Boden geworfen und suchte ihm nun den\nDegen zu entwinden. Der Spanier lie\u00df die Waffe fahren, ri\u00df die Pistole\naus dem G\u00fcrtel und jagte seinem Feinde eine Kugel durch die Brust, die\nihn sofort t\u00f6tete.\nFreitag blieb seinerseits auch nicht unth\u00e4tig: er verfolgte die\nFl\u00fcchtlinge, ohne eine andre Waffe als sein Beil, und machte denen,\ndie er im Laufe einholte oder die verwundet auf der Erde umherlagen,\nden Garaus. Der Spanier bat mich jetzt um ein Gewehr, und ich \u00fcberlie\u00df\nihm gern eine meiner beiden Jagdflinten. Er verfolgte damit zwei Wilde\nund verwundete sie beide; da er sie aber nicht einzuholen vermochte,\nso entkamen sie nach dem Walde. Hier aber trafen sie auf Freitag,\nder sogleich den einen von ihnen niederstreckte; der andre, wiewohl\nverwundet, lief nach dem Strande, warf sich ins Meer und schwamm dem\nKanoe nach, in welchem sich ein Toter und ein Verwundeter befanden,\nw\u00e4hrend drei noch Lebende das Weite zu gewinnen suchten. Es waren 17\nWilde teils get\u00f6tet, teils so schwer verwundet worden, da\u00df sie an ihren\nWunden sterben mu\u00dften; nur vier waren in ihrem Kahne entkommen, einer\nderselben aber dem Anscheine nach auch schwer blessiert.\nDie in dem Kanoe Fl\u00fcchtenden ruderten mit aller Anstrengung, um aus dem\nBereiche unsrer Kugeln zu kommen, und obgleich Freitag noch zwei- oder\ndreimal nach ihnen feuerte, so schien doch keiner getroffen zu sein.\nFreitag zeigte sich so kampfbegierig, da\u00df er eins ihrer Boote nehmen\nwollte, um die Wilden zu verfolgen, und in der That schien mir dieser\nGedanke beachtenswert. Denn gelang es auch nur einem zu entrinnen, der\ndie Nachricht von der Niederlage zu seinem Stamm brachte, so konnte ich\nmich sicherlich auf einen baldigen Besuch von Hunderten gefa\u00dft machen,\ndie uns durch ihre \u00dcberzahl erdr\u00fcckt h\u00e4tten. Ich eilte also mit Freitag\nnach dem Strande hinab und sprang in eine Barke. Aber wie erstaunte\nich, als ich hier noch einen an H\u00e4nden und F\u00fc\u00dfen gefesselten Wilden\nerblickte, der vor Angst halb tot war!\nSogleich zerschnitt ich seine Fesseln und suchte den armen Menschen\nemporzurichten; allein er konnte weder stehen noch sprechen, sondern\nst\u00f6hnte nur auf eine ganz erb\u00e4rmliche Weise, weil er wahrscheinlich\nglaubte, er solle nun get\u00f6tet werden. Ich gab Freitag mein\nRumfl\u00e4schchen, um den Armen durch einen Schluck zu st\u00e4rken, und trug\nihm zugleich auf, dem Wilden seine Befreiung zu verk\u00fcndigen. Der\nTrunk und noch mehr die frohe Botschaft belebten den Armen so, da\u00df er\nsich in der Barke aufrecht zu setzen vermochte. Als ihm aber Freitag\naufmerksamer ins Gesicht sah, wurde dieser wie umgewandelt. Er umarmte\nden Geretteten, k\u00fc\u00dfte ihn und dr\u00fcckte ihn st\u00fcrmisch an die Brust; dann\nlachte er, jauchzte vor Freuden, sprang, tanzte, sang, geb\u00e4rdete sich\nwie ein Unsinniger, weinte und rang die H\u00e4nde. Lange w\u00e4hrte es, ehe\nauch nur ein einziges vern\u00fcnftiges Wort aus ihm herauszubringen war:\nendlich, als er wieder ein wenig zu sich selbst kam, sagte er zu mir,\nder Gerettete sei sein *Vater*.\nEs l\u00e4\u00dft sich nicht mit Worten das Entz\u00fccken des guten Freitag beim\nAnblick seines Vaters und dessen unerwarteter Errettung schildern;\nzwanzigmal sprang er aus dem Kahne und wieder hinein; dann setzte er\nsich an die Seite seines Vaters und \u00f6ffnete sein Kleid, um den Kopf\ndesselben an seine Brust zu dr\u00fccken und ihn zu erw\u00e4rmen; dann nahm er\nwieder seine Arme, seine Beine, welche durch das harte Zuschn\u00fcren der\nBande steif und geschwollen waren, und rieb sie mit seinen H\u00e4nden. Ich\ngab ihm nun etwas Rum, um die abgestorbenen Glieder des alten Mannes zu\nwaschen, was demselben augenscheinlich sehr wohl that.\nFreitag war so sehr mit seinem Vater besch\u00e4ftigt, da\u00df ich es nicht\n\u00fcber mich gewinnen konnte, ihn von demselben abzurufen. Erst als ich\nglaubte, er habe seiner kindlichen Freude vollkommen Gen\u00fcge gethan,\nrief ich ihn, und er sprang mit freudestrahlendem Gesicht auf mich los.\n\u00bbHast du deinem Vater schon Brot zu essen gegeben, Freitag? Er wird\nwohl t\u00fcchtigen Hunger haben.\u00ab\n\u00bbNein, ach nein, Herr!\u00ab erwiderte fast weinend der arme Bursche; \u00bbo,\nich schlechter Hund habe selbst alles gegessen, alles!\u00ab\n\u00bbNun, Freitag, beruhige dich! Da ist ein St\u00fcck Kuchen, das ich gerade\nnoch in meiner Tasche finde; hier hast du auch noch Rosinen und einen\nSchluck Rum, damit st\u00e4rke deinen Vater!\u00ab\nFreitag gehorchte mit einem Blicke des Dankes und reichte das\nDargebotene dem Alten. Dann sprang er mit einem Satze aus dem Kahne\nund lief wie ein gehetztes Wild davon, so da\u00df er im Nu aus unsern\nAugen verschwunden war. Ich schrie, ich lief ihm nach -- er h\u00f6rte\nnicht; nachdem etwa eine Viertelstunde verflossen war, sah ich ihn\nwiederkommen, aber nicht so eilig, als er davongelaufen war, weil\ner etwas in den H\u00e4nden trug. Er hatte n\u00e4mlich in dieser kurzen Zeit\nden Weg nach der Burg zur\u00fcckgelegt, um noch mehr Brot und einen Krug\nfrischen Wassers hierher zu bringen. Sein Vater, der bald vor Durst\nverschmachtete, wurde durch den k\u00fchlen Trunk mehr erquickt, als all\nmein Rum vermocht h\u00e4tte.\nNachdem der Alte getrunken hatte, fragte ich Freitag, ob noch etwas\nWasser \u00fcbrig sei, und auf seine Bejahung trug ich ihm auf, dieses\nsowie ein Brot dem Spanier zu bringen, der dessen ebensosehr bedurfte\nund auf einem Rasenh\u00fcgel im Schatten eines Baumes ausruhte.\nAls Freitag zur\u00fcckgekommen, schlug er die Augen zu mir empor und\nblickte mich mit dem Ausdrucke gr\u00f6\u00dfter Dankbarkeit an. Gern h\u00e4tte\nsich der Spanier erhoben und w\u00e4re zu uns gekommen, allein er war so\nersch\u00f6pft und seine Glieder durch die harten Bande so angeschwollen,\nda\u00df er sich nicht auf den Beinen zu halten vermochte. Ich befahl daher\nFreitag, ihm H\u00e4nde und F\u00fc\u00dfe mit Rum einzureiben. Dabei drehte letzterer\nalle Augenblicke den Kopf herum, um nach seinem Vater zu sehen. Als er\nihn einmal nicht in seiner vorigen Stellung sah, lie\u00df er ohne weiteres\nvom Einreiben ab, sprang auf und scho\u00df wie ein Pfeil nach dem Boote, in\nwelchem sich sein Vater niedergelegt hatte, um seinen m\u00fcden Gliedern\nRuhe zu g\u00f6nnen. Erst als er v\u00f6llig zufrieden gestellt sein durfte,\nkehrte Freitag eiligst zur\u00fcck und vollendete die ihm aufgetragene\nHilfeleistung.\nAlles dies hatte uns von der Verfolgung der Wilden abgezogen, und ihre\nBarke selbst war uns bereits aus dem Gesicht, als wir wieder an sie\ndachten. Die Verhinderung unsrer anf\u00e4nglichen Absicht war jedoch ein\ngro\u00dfes Gl\u00fcck f\u00fcr uns. Denn zwei Stunden sp\u00e4ter erhob sich ein heftiger\nWind, der den \u00fcbrigen Teil des Tages und die ganze Nacht hindurch\nanhielt. Wie \u00fcbel h\u00e4tte es uns in unsrer leichten Barke ergehen k\u00f6nnen!\nDem Spanier machte ich den Vorschlag, sich auf Freitag zu st\u00fctzen und\nbis zu einem der K\u00e4hne sich weiter zu helfen, um ihn dann nach unsrer\nWohnung zu schaffen, wo ich besser f\u00fcr seine Pflege und Bequemlichkeit\nsorgen k\u00f6nnte. Allein er f\u00fchlte sich so schwach, da\u00df er nicht mehr\nstehen konnte. Ohne weitere Umst\u00e4nde nahm daher Freitag mit kr\u00e4ftiger\nHand den Fremden auf seinen R\u00fccken, trug ihn nach dem Kahne, setzte ihn\nan der Seite seines Vaters nieder, stie\u00df das Boot vom Ufer und ruderte\ndasselbe, ungeachtet des sich erhebenden Windes, die K\u00fcste entlang,\nschneller als ich gehen konnte. Darauf eilte er zur\u00fcck. Als er an mir\nvorbei lief, fragte ich ihn: \u00bbWo rennst du so hurtig hin?\u00ab -- \u00bbAndern\nKahn holen!\u00ab lautete lakonisch seine Antwort, und schnell wie der Wind\nwar er davon. Als ich bei der Bucht anlangte, war auch Freitag fast\ngleichzeitig mit dem nachgeholten Boote daselbst eingetroffen.\nSoweit war alles gut gegangen. Da aber weder Freitags Vater noch der\nSpanier zu gehen im stande war, so befanden wir uns in nicht geringer\nVerlegenheit, wie wir dieselben bis zur Burg und besonders \u00fcber die\nWallmauer bringen sollten. Wir hatten indes keine Zeit, noch lange\nzu \u00fcberlegen. Das geeignetste Transportmittel schien mir unter den\nvorliegenden Umst\u00e4nden eine Tragbahre zu sein. Sofort machte ich mich\ndenn auch, indem ich die beiden unsrer Obhut anvertrauten M\u00e4nner am\nUfer ruhig niedersitzen lie\u00df, mit Freitag ans Werk, und nach einem\nSt\u00fcndchen hatten wir mit zwei Stangen und Flechtwerk eine Tragbahre\nhergerichtet, wie sie unsern Zwecken notd\u00fcrftig entsprechen konnte.\nSo trugen wir denn den Spanier und Freitags Vater und gelangten\nbis an die \u00e4u\u00dfere Umfassungsmauer unsrer Burg. Hier aber entstand\nwiederum die Frage: Wie werden wir die beiden Entkr\u00e4fteten \u00fcber den\nWall hinwegbringen? Es blieb denn nichts andres \u00fcbrig, als zwischen\nder ersten Umhegung und dem von mir angepflanzten Geb\u00fcsch ein Zelt zu\nerrichten. Freitag ging mit seiner gewohnten Geschicklichkeit ans Werk,\nund nach zwei Stunden hatten wir eine leidlich h\u00fcbsche H\u00fctte zustande\ngebracht, bedeckt mit alten Segeln und Baumzweigen. Im inneren Raume\nderselben stellten wir einen Tisch hin nebst einer Bank und ein paar\nroh gezimmerten St\u00fchlen, sodann zwei Lagerst\u00e4tten von gutem Reisstroh\nnebst je zwei wollenen Decken: eine, um darauf zu liegen, die andre, um\nsich damit zuzudecken.\nSobald alles unter Dach und Fach gebracht war, erschien es wohl\nnat\u00fcrlich, da\u00df ich nun auch an mich und Freitag dachte. Ich befahl\nletzterem, eine junge Ziege zu schlachten und sie in St\u00fccke zu\nzerschneiden. Mit einigen derselben, die ich Freitag kochen\nlie\u00df, bereitete ich eine kr\u00e4ftige Suppe und ein vortreffliches\nFleischgericht. Dann wartete ich in dem neu aufgeschlagenen Zelte auf\nund hie\u00df meine G\u00e4ste guten Mutes sein und tapfer zulangen.\nNach aufgehobener Mahlzeit trug ich Freitag auf, eine Barke\nherbeizuschaffen und unsre Waffen zu holen, die wir im Drange der\nverwichenen Stunden auf dem Schlachtfelde gelassen hatten. N\u00e4chstdem\ngab ich ihm den Auftrag, seinen Vater \u00fcber die Wilden auszufragen, und\nob er glaube, da\u00df sie einen Rachezug gegen uns unternehmen w\u00fcrden.\nFreitags Vater meinte, die Fl\u00fcchtlinge h\u00e4tten in ihrem leichten\nFahrzeuge dem Sturme, der sich bald nach ihrer Abfahrt erhob, um so\nweniger widerstehen k\u00f6nnen, als er sie bereits auf dem ersten Viertel\nihres Seewegs \u00fcberrascht h\u00e4tte. Wenn aber das Fahrzeug auch nicht\numgeschlagen w\u00e4re und seine Insassen in den Wellen begraben h\u00e4tte, so\nw\u00fcrden diese doch nach S\u00fcden zu unvermeidlich an K\u00fcsten geschleudert\nworden sein, wo sie als Kriegsgefangene dem Tode preisgegeben w\u00e4ren.\nSollten sie dennoch in ihre Heimat kommen, so w\u00fcrden sie ihren\nLandsleuten eher ab- als zureden, diese Insel jemals wieder zu\nbetreten. Er habe n\u00e4mlich vernommen, wie sie sich gleich nach unsern\nersten Gewehrsalven \u00e4ngstlich und zitternd einander zuriefen: die\nbeiden Wesen (n\u00e4mlich *ich* und *Freitag*) seien keine Menschen,\nsondern b\u00f6se Geister, die vom Himmel auf die Erde herabgestiegen w\u00e4ren,\num sie zu vernichten; denn Menschen, wie sie immer auch seien, k\u00f6nnten\nnicht Blitze und Donner machen, auch nicht Feuer und Tod in die Ferne\nschicken. Gewi\u00df k\u00e4me ihnen dieses Eiland wie ein verzaubertes Land vor,\ndessen geisterhafte Bewohner alles vernichteten, was sich in ihre N\u00e4he\nwagte.\nDer alte Mann mochte wohl nicht unrecht haben. Dennoch blieb ich auf\nder Hut; da wir aber jetzt unser vier waren, so konnten wir es getrost\nmit einer Rotte von 50, ja 100 Mann aufnehmen.\nNachdem wir uns noch \u00fcber mancherlei unterhalten hatten, \u00fcberlie\u00df ich\nFreitags Vater und den Spanier der ben\u00f6tigten Ruhe, denn sie waren\nimmer noch matt und schwach. Auch wir beiden andern zogen uns nach\ndem Wohnhause zur\u00fcck und suchten gleichfalls unser Lager auf. Trotz\nmeiner M\u00fcdigkeit wollte mich der Schlaf nicht \u00fcberkommen; die j\u00fcngsten\nEreignisse tauchten wieder so lebhaft in meiner Seele auf, da\u00df ich den\nganzen Kampf gleichsam von neuem durchlebte.\nDie Einwohnerzahl meiner Insel war nun um das Vierfache gestiegen, und\nich war naturgem\u00e4\u00df der unumschr\u00e4nkte Monarch \u00fcber diese Insulaner.\nSo klein aber die Zahl auch war, eine gro\u00dfe Verschiedenheit zeigte\ndie Bev\u00f6lkerung hinsichtlich der Abstammung und der Religion.\nFreitags Vater war Karibe, Heide und Menschenfresser, der Sohn\nSpaniens war Katholik, und ich nebst Freitag huldigten der Lehre des\nProtestantismus. Aber diese Verschiedenheit sollte kein Stein des\nAnsto\u00dfes werden, kein Gewissenszwang beirrte in meinem Staate die\nGem\u00fcter.\nAls wir uns am andern Morgen erhoben hatten, gebot ich Freitag, die\nget\u00f6teten Wilden, deren verwesende Leichname die Luft zu verpesten\ndrohten, in die Erde zu verscharren. Zugleich sollte Freitag auch die\neklen \u00dcberreste der Kannibalenmahlzeit entfernen, damit sie nicht\nunser Auge ferner beleidigten. Er entledigte sich meines Befehls mit\ngewohnter Bereitwilligkeit.\nDann machten wir gemeinsam die Runde um die Burg und ihre Umgebungen\nund gingen nach der H\u00f6hle und den Ziegenparks. Ich wollte n\u00e4mlich\nsowohl mich selbst von dem Stande der Dinge unterrichten, als auch\nmeine neuen Gef\u00e4hrten mit meinen wirtschaftlichen Erfolgen bekannt\nmachen. Freitag hatte als Dolmetsch hierbei vollauf zu thun; denn\nsein Vater war \u00fcber die vielen neuen Dinge, die er bei uns sah, ganz\nerstaunt, und ich lie\u00df ihm ihren Zweck und Gebrauch so deutlich wie\nm\u00f6glich auseinandersetzen. Aber auch der Spanier war nicht wenig\n\u00fcberrascht von den zweckm\u00e4\u00dfigen Einrichtungen, die ich im Laufe so\nvieler Jahre getroffen und allm\u00e4hlich mehr und mehr verbessert hatte.\nNachdem meine neuen Hausgenossen sich endlich von ihren Schmerzen an\nH\u00e4nden und F\u00fc\u00dfen befreit f\u00fchlten, boten sie mir bereitwillig ihre\nKr\u00e4fte zur Verrichtung der l\u00e4ndlichen und vielen andern Arbeiten\nan. Freitag lie\u00df ich meist in Gesellschaft seines Vaters arbeiten,\nw\u00e4hrend sich der Spanier in meiner n\u00e4chsten N\u00e4he zu halten pflegte.\nDa fehlte es denn nicht an hunderterlei Fragen und Mitteilungen, an\nPl\u00e4nen und Aussichten f\u00fcr die Zukunft, an Er\u00f6rterungen hinsichtlich der\nMittel, nach dem Festland hin\u00fcberzukommen, wo ich, wie Freitags Vater\nversichert hatte, um seinetwillen gastfreundliche Aufnahme finden w\u00fcrde.\nDer Spanier unterrichtete mich zuv\u00f6rderst von seinem und seiner\nGenossen Schicksal. \u00bbIch hei\u00dfe\u00ab, erz\u00e4hlte er, \u00bb*Don Juan Caballos*\nund stamme aus Valladolid in Spanien. Wir waren auf einem Fahrzeuge\nabgesegelt, das vom Rio de la Plata nach der Havanna gehen und dort\nPelzwaren und Silber gegen europ\u00e4ische Waren umtauschen sollte. Es\nerhob sich ein heftiger Sturm, und in der Nacht darauf wurden wir\nso heftig gegen ein Felsenriff geschmettert, da\u00df wir, im ganzen elf\nSpanier und f\u00fcnf Portugiesen, uns beeilen mu\u00dften, in die Schaluppe zu\nkommen. Sturm und Wellen preisgegeben, halbtot vor Hunger und Durst,\nAngst und Gefahr, wurden wir nach der karibischen K\u00fcste verschlagen und\nschwebten in der peinlichsten Furcht, von den Wilden geschlachtet zu\nwerden. Allein die Kannibalen waren menschlicher, als wir glaubten: sie\nnahmen uns ohne Feindseligkeit auf und lie\u00dfen uns in Frieden unter sich\nleben. Da wir uns indes an ihre schlechten Lebensmittel und namentlich\nan ihr Nationalfestessen, aus Menschenfleisch bestehend, nicht gew\u00f6hnen\nkonnten, so nagten wir fast best\u00e4ndig am Hungertuche. Zwar besa\u00dfen wir\neinige Feuergewehre und S\u00e4bel; aber wir hatten bereits in den ersten\nTagen nach unsrer Landung den Vorrat an Pulver und Blei verbraucht\nund waren deshalb fast lediglich auf den Unterhalt durch die Wilden\nangewiesen. Was Wunder, wenn der Gedanke einer Flucht aus diesem Lande\nsich in uns allen bis zum gl\u00fchendsten Wunsche steigerte? Dies, Freund\nRobinson, ist die Lage meiner Genossen unter den Kannibalen.\u00ab\n\u00bbDas ist in der That traurig, Don Juan\u00ab, erwiderte ich dem Spanier.\n\u00bbAber mir geht ein Gedanke durch den Kopf: w\u00fcrden wohl Eure Gef\u00e4hrten\neinen Vorschlag zu ihrer Rettung von mir annehmen?\u00ab\n\u00bbO sicherlich mit dem innigsten Dankgef\u00fchl, Sennor; denn in ihrer\njetzigen verzweifelten Lage haben sie keine Hoffnung, sich selbst\njemals befreien zu k\u00f6nnen!\u00ab\n\u00bbMein Vorschlag w\u00e4re demnach folgender: sie s\u00e4mtlich nach unsrer\nInsel her\u00fcberzuholen und durch gemeinschaftliche Arbeit ein Fahrzeug\nzu bauen, das gro\u00df genug sein w\u00fcrde, um uns alle samt den n\u00f6tigen\nLebensmitteln aufzunehmen und nach Brasilien oder nach einer spanischen\nKolonie zu bringen. Freilich w\u00fcrde ich es aber bitter zu bereuen haben,\ndas Werkzeug ihrer Rettung geworden zu sein, wenn sie gegen mich, als\neinen *Engl\u00e4nder*, die obschwebenden Feindseligkeiten der spanischen\nund britischen Nation geltend machen w\u00fcrden.\u00ab\n\u00bbO Sennor\u00ab, entgegnete der Spanier, \u00bbmeine Genossen haben den Kelch der\nbittersten Leiden zu lange gekostet, als da\u00df sie nicht schon den blo\u00dfen\nGedanken verabscheuen sollten, demjenigen ein Unrecht zuzuf\u00fcgen, dem\nsie f\u00fcr die Rettung aus Not und Verbannung verpflichtet w\u00e4ren.\u00ab\n\u00bbUnd doch, Don Caballos, ist gerade die Dankbarkeit keine gew\u00f6hnliche\nTugend unter den Menschen. Denn nur zu oft richten dieselben ihre\nHandlungen nicht nach den Pflichten ein, welche ihnen durch empfangene\nWohlthaten auferlegt werden, sondern nach ihrem eignen pers\u00f6nlichen\nVorteil, dem sie alle \u00fcbrigen R\u00fccksichten nachsetzen.\u00ab\n\u00bbWohl, Sennor, *aufzwingen* l\u00e4\u00dft sich Vertrauen nicht. Aber wenn Ihr\ngestattet, so la\u00dft mich mit Freitags Vater wieder zur\u00fcckfahren, meine\nLandsleute von Eurem Plane in Kenntnis setzen, mit ihnen einen Vertrag\nabschlie\u00dfen, den sie mit einem heiligen Eide beschw\u00f6ren sollen. Diesen\nVertrag werde ich unterzeichnet hierher zur\u00fcckbringen. Ich selbst aber\nwill mich, ehe ich abreise, durch einen Eid verbindlich machen, Euch\ntreu und gehorsam zu bleiben, solange ich lebe, und meine Genossen\neben dazu anzuhalten; Euch selbst will ich f\u00fcr den Fall, da\u00df letztere\nsich widerspenstig oder untreu bezeigen sollten, auf das kr\u00e4ftigste\nbeistehen und Eure Person bis auf den letzten Blutstropfen verteidigen.\u00ab\nAuf solche Versicherungen hin glaubte ich die Rettung der Spanier und\nPortugiesen wagen zu d\u00fcrfen und ordnete an, da\u00df Caballos mit dem alten\nWilden abgesandt werden solle. Als aber bereits alles zur Abreise\nvorbereitet war, erhob der Spanier selbst eine Schwierigkeit, in\nwelcher sich seine Klugheit und Aufrichtigkeit bekundeten, so da\u00df ich\ngern seinen Rat annahm und die Befreiung seiner Gef\u00e4hrten noch um sechs\nMonate hinaus verschob.\n[Illustration: Zur\u00fcstung des Bootes zur Abfahrt.]\nEr musterte n\u00e4mlich meine Vorr\u00e4te an Reis und Gerste und begriff\nsofort, da\u00df dieselben allerdings f\u00fcr mich und Freitag mehr als\nhinreichend waren, da\u00df jedoch jetzt, wo wir unser vier von diesem\nHaushalt zehren mu\u00dften, die weiseste Sparsamkeit von n\u00f6ten sein w\u00fcrde.\nWie aber sollte es vollends dann werden, wenn auch noch die 16 Europ\u00e4er\nauf unser Kornmagazin angewiesen waren? Dabei riet mir der Spanier, ich\nm\u00f6chte ihn sowie die beiden Indianer so viel Land beackern und bes\u00e4en\nlassen, als dies ohne zu erhebliche Verringerung der Vorr\u00e4te geschehen\nk\u00f6nne, und dann die n\u00e4chste Ernte abwarten. W\u00fcrde diese ung\u00fcnstig\nausfallen, so k\u00f6nnte leicht die Hungersnot Unzufriedenheit und\nZwistigkeiten herbeif\u00fchren; seine Gef\u00e4hrten k\u00f6nnten dann wohl meinen,\nnur aus einem Ungl\u00fcck in das andre gefallen zu sein.\n\u00bbWi\u00dft Ihr doch selbst, Sennor\u00ab, f\u00fcgte er hinzu, \u00bbwie auch die Kinder\nIsrael anf\u00e4nglich \u00fcber ihre Errettung aus \u00c4gyptenland frohlockten,\ndann aber, als es ihnen in der W\u00fcste an Brot gebrach, sich gegen ihren\nF\u00fchrer auflehnten.\u00ab\nDer Rat des Spaniers schien mir so wohl \u00fcberdacht und beachtenswert,\nda\u00df ich ihm ohne Z\u00f6gern folgte. Wir machten uns daher alle vier, so\ngut es mit unsern h\u00f6lzernen Werkzeugen gehen wollte, an die Arbeit,\ngruben ein ziemlich gro\u00dfes St\u00fcck Land um, und bereits nach Verlauf\neines Monats, wo die Saatzeit eintrat, hatten wir so viel Ackerland\nzubereitet, da\u00df wir 22 Scheffel Gerste und 16 Kr\u00fcge Reis s\u00e4en konnten;\nes blieb aber f\u00fcr uns bis zur n\u00e4chsten Erntezeit noch genug Gerste\nzu unsrer t\u00e4glichen Nahrung \u00fcbrig. Da wir jetzt zahlreich genug\nwaren, um die Wilden nicht mehr f\u00fcrchten zu m\u00fcssen, so gingen wir\nfrei und unbesorgt auf der ganzen Insel umher, um alles Notwendige\nzu unsrer Befreiung, die unsre Gem\u00fcter ausschlie\u00dflich besch\u00e4ftigte,\ninstandzusetzen. Als die Jahreszeit gekommen war, Trauben zu pfl\u00fccken\nund zu trocknen, lie\u00df ich eine solche Menge derselben aufh\u00e4ngen, da\u00df\nwir 60 bis 80 F\u00e4sser h\u00e4tten f\u00fcllen k\u00f6nnen, wenn wir in Alicante gewesen\nw\u00e4ren, wo die besten Rosinen gemacht werden. Diese Fr\u00fcchte und das Brot\nbildeten den Kern unsrer Mahlzeiten. Au\u00dferdem aber flochten wir flei\u00dfig\nK\u00f6rbe, die uns zur Aufbewahrung unsrer Vorr\u00e4te unentbehrlich waren.\nZugleich nahm ich auch darauf Bedacht, unsre Herde zahmer Ziegen zu\nvermehren. Zu diesem Zwecke ging ich abwechselnd mit dem Spanier auf\ndie Jagd, wohin uns Freitag begleitete. Indem wir die alten Ziegen\nschossen, die Jungen aber einfingen, brachten wir an 20 junge Ziegen\nzusammen, die ich dann mit den \u00fcbrigen aufzog.\nAuch bezeichnete ich mehrere B\u00e4ume, die ich zur Erbauung eines gr\u00f6\u00dferen\nFahrzeuges geeignet hielt, und lie\u00df sie durch Freitag und seinen Vater\nf\u00e4llen, w\u00e4hrend ich dem Spanier die \u00dcberwachung und Leitung dieser\nArbeiten anvertraute. Ich zeigte ihnen, mit welcher Geduld und Ausdauer\nich gro\u00dfe B\u00e4ume zu Booten verarbeitet hatte, und wies sie gleichfalls\ndazu an. Sie schnitten ein Dutzend guter Bretter von 60 _cm_ Breite,\n5-11 _m_ L\u00e4nge und 5-10 _cm_ Dicke -- eine Arbeit, die manchen schweren\nSchwei\u00dftropfen kostete.\nInzwischen war die Zeit der Ernte gekommen, und wir arbeiteten mit\nLust am Einsammeln. War sie auch nicht allzu ergiebig, denn ich hatte\nfr\u00fcher schon reichere Ernten gehabt, so entsprach sie doch unsern\nErwartungen. Wir erhielten \u00fcber 220 Scheffel Gerste und in demselben\nVerh\u00e4ltnisse Reis. Das bildete einen Vorrat, der uns alle, mit\nEinschlu\u00df der Gef\u00e4hrten des Spaniers, bis zur n\u00e4chsten Ernte nicht nur\nhinl\u00e4nglich ern\u00e4hrt, sondern auch noch bequem zur Verproviantierung\neines Fahrzeuges gereicht h\u00e4tte, um zu dem von Europ\u00e4ern bewohnten\nFestlande von Amerika zu gelangen. Nachdem wir unsre Vorr\u00e4te\nuntergebracht hatten, fand ich es f\u00fcr angemessen, das Feld noch einmal\nzu bearbeiten und zu bes\u00e4en, weil wir wegen des Schiffbaues, aus Mangel\nan Werkzeugen, uns noch eine geraume Zeit hier aufhalten mu\u00dften.\nNachdem alles bestens geordnet war, setzten wir unser Boot in\nBereitschaft, in welchem Caballos mit dem alten Indianer absegeln\nsollte, um mit den Spaniern und Portugiesen zu unterhandeln. Um mich\naber f\u00fcr jeden Fall sicher zu stellen, setzte ich dem Spanier am\nTage vor ihrer Abfahrt einen in portugiesischer Sprache abgefa\u00dften\nschriftlichen Befehl auf, der folgenderma\u00dfen lautete:\n\u00bbEs wird keiner mitgebracht, der nicht in Gegenwart von Freitags\nVater und des Don Juan Caballos auf das Evangelium schw\u00f6rt, mich,\n*Robinson Crusoe*, als seinen obersten Befehlshaber anzuerkennen, mir\ntreu und gehorsam zur Seite zu stehen, mir wissentlich nie Schaden\noder B\u00f6ses zuzuf\u00fcgen, mich gegen jeden Angriff, woher er auch komme,\nzu verteidigen und sich meinen Befehlen und meiner Leitung, wohin\nich ihn auch f\u00fchren w\u00fcrde, niemals zu widersetzen. Jeder hat heilig\nzu versprechen, mein Wohl nach seinen Kr\u00e4ften zu f\u00f6rdern. -- Alles\ndies soll von s\u00e4mtlichen Leuten beschworen und durch eigenh\u00e4ndige\nUnterschrift anerkannt werden.\u00ab\n[Illustration: Sehnsuchtsvolle Umschau.]\nDreizehntes Kapitel.\nDurch Kampf zum Sieg.\n  Abreise von Caballos und Freitags Vater. -- Ankunft wei\u00dfer M\u00e4nner. --\n  Ein englisches Schiff. -- Vergebliche Furcht vor Seer\u00e4ubern. -- Die\n  Gefangenen. -- Die Befreiung derselben. -- Bestrafung der Meuterer.\n  -- Die Meuterer werden in die Irre gef\u00fchrt, \u00fcberfallen und gefangen.\n  -- Wiedergewinnung des Schiffes. -- Der englische Gouverneur.\nEs mochte wohl nach meiner ungef\u00e4hren Sch\u00e4tzung, denn ich hatte die\ngenaue Fortf\u00fchrung meines Pfahlkalenders vernachl\u00e4ssigt, im Monat\nOktober des Jahres 1686 sein, als Don Caballos mit Freitags Vater nach\ndem Festlande von Amerika absegelte. Freitag war bei dem Abschiede\nvon seinem Vater so betr\u00fcbt, da\u00df er Thr\u00e4nen vergo\u00df. Auch ich selbst\nsah mit R\u00fchrung der kleinen Barke nach; und doch empfand ich eine\ninnerliche hohe Freude, wenn ich bedachte, da\u00df dies nach 27 *Jahren*\ndie erste Veranstaltung war, die ich zu meiner Errettung aus meinem\neinsamen Insellande ins Werk gesetzt hatte und welche vielleicht einen\ng\u00fcnstigen Erfolg haben konnte. Alle meine Gedanken besch\u00e4ftigten sich\njetzt mit der nahen Abreise in die Heimat, tausend frohe Hoffnungen,\naber auch manche Zweifel stiegen in mir auf. Welch ein Zeitraum,\n\u00fcberreich an Erfahrungen, lag zwischen meinen J\u00fcnglingsjahren und der\nGegenwart! Welche Ver\u00e4nderungen mochten unterdes in England vor sich\ngegangen sein! Wie mochten sich vor allem meine guten Eltern befinden,\ndie mich gewi\u00df l\u00e4ngst als einen Toten beweinten?\nIch hatte jedem der beiden Reisenden eine Muskete nebst sieben oder\nacht Ladungen Pulver und Blei mitgegeben und ihnen zugleich geraten,\nrecht sparsam und haush\u00e4lterisch damit umzugehen. Au\u00dferdem waren sie\nmit so viel Brot und Rosinen ausger\u00fcstet worden, da\u00df sie nicht nur\nf\u00fcr sich, sondern auch f\u00fcr die zu Befreienden wohl auf acht Tage\nausreichten. Um den Vertrag, dessen ich Erw\u00e4hnung gethan, unterzeichnen\nzu lassen, gab ich dem Spanier ein Fl\u00e4schchen mit Tinte und einigen\nFedern mit und verabredete das Signal, durch welches sie ihre R\u00fcckkehr\nschon von fern kundgeben sollten.\nAcht Tage waren seit der Abreise des Spaniers und des alten Wilden\nverflossen, aber vergeblich harrten wir von Tag zu Tag der R\u00fcckkehr\nmeiner Gesandten entgegen. Da weckte mich eines Morgens Freitag mit dem\nlauten, freudenvollen Rufe: \u00bb*Herr, sie sind wiedergekommen*, sie sind\nda!\u00ab\nSogleich sprang ich auf, warf meine Kleider \u00fcber, und ohne ein Gewehr\nmitzunehmen, eilte ich dem Strande zu. Aber wie gro\u00df war meine\nBest\u00fcrzung, als ich aus dem Buschw\u00e4ldchen trat, das meine Burg umgab,\nund, nach der See hinauslugend, eine Schaluppe erblickte, welche mit\neinem lateinischen Segel versehen war und mit frischem Winde gegen die\nK\u00fcste zusteuerte! Das war nicht unser Boot, kam auch nicht von Norden\nher, sondern von S\u00fcdost; ich rief Freitag, der mir schon vorausgeeilt\nwar, schnell zur\u00fcck und befahl ihm, sich dicht neben mir im W\u00e4ldchen im\nVersteck zu halten, denn ich wu\u00dfte nicht, ob die Leute, die da kamen,\nFreunde oder Feinde seien. Dann zogen wir uns vorsichtig in unsre Burg\nzur\u00fcck, und ich bestieg dort sogleich mit einem Fernrohr meine Warte,\num die Ank\u00f6mmlinge zu beobachten.\nKaum hatte ich den H\u00fcgel erklommen, als ich in einer Entfernung von\ndritthalb Stunden gegen S\u00fcds\u00fcdost ein Schiff vor Anker liegen sah und\nganz deutlich erkannte, da\u00df Schiff und Schaluppe *englische* waren.\nUnm\u00f6glich kann ich die Gef\u00fchle schildern, die sich meiner bem\u00e4chtigten.\nEinmal war es unaussprechliche Freude, in den Fremden Landsleute,\nEngl\u00e4nder, Freunde zu begr\u00fc\u00dfen, dann aber verdr\u00e4ngten Zweifel und\nBesorgnisse den Jubel in meiner Brust. Was konnte wohl ein *englisches*\nFahrzeug in diesem Winkel der Erde, in diesen Gew\u00e4ssern suchen, in\ndenen nie ein englischer Kauffahrer seine Wimpel bl\u00e4hte? Was f\u00fchrte\ndie zweifelhaften G\u00e4ste hierher, da doch die Witterung anhaltend sch\u00f6n\nwar und sie keine \u00bbM\u00fctze voll Wind\u00ab, wie einst mich, an dieses Eiland\ngetrieben haben konnte? Hier war h\u00f6chste Vorsicht geboten, um nicht in\ndie Gewalt von R\u00e4ubern oder *Freibeutern* zu fallen. Nicht lange stand\nich auf meinem Warteposten, als die Schaluppe sich dem Ufer n\u00e4herte und\ndann auf den flachen Strand trieb. Die Mannschaft stieg aus, und ich\nerkannte in den Personen Engl\u00e4nder, acht mit S\u00e4beln bewaffnet, drei\naber ohne Waffen und gebunden. Letztere schienen in verzweifelter Lage\nzu sein, denn sie streckten die H\u00e4nde flehend empor. Dieses Schauspiel\nsetzte mich in gro\u00dfe Verwirrung, und Freitag, der mir nachkam, raunte\nmir zu: \u00bbSieh, Herr, diese englischen M\u00e4nner essen Gefangene, ebenso\nwie meine Landsleute.\u00ab\n\u00bbWie, Freitag\u00ab, entgegnete ich, \u00bbglaubst du wirklich, da\u00df sie so\nunmenschlich w\u00e4ren, ihre Gefangenen zu essen?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, ja, Herr; o ich wei\u00df, auch die Engl\u00e4nder essen ihre wei\u00dfen Br\u00fcder.\u00ab\n\u00bbNicht doch, Freitag\u00ab, suchte ich ihn zu belehren; \u00bbwohl m\u00f6glich, da\u00df\nsie ihre Feinde dort t\u00f6ten werden, aber essen! -- niemals! niemals!\u00ab\n\u00bbIst aber doch kein gro\u00dfer Unterschied, Herr!\u00ab\nIch \u00fcberlegte, wie ich wohl am besten die Gefangenen zu befreien\nverm\u00f6chte, zumal ich in den H\u00e4nden ihrer Peiniger Feuerwaffen nicht\nbemerkte. Die Engl\u00e4nder selbst gingen am Ufer auf und ab, ohne sich\nweiter um ihre Gefangenen zu k\u00fcmmern. Obgleich nun diese h\u00e4tten frei\numherlaufen k\u00f6nnen, so waren sie doch zu sehr eingesch\u00fcchtert und\nsetzten sich auf den Boden nieder. Ihre Lage erinnerte mich lebhaft\nan jenen Augenblick, wo ich selbst durch die Gewalt des Sturmes an\ndiesen Strand geschleudert wurde, unter Aufbietung der letzten Kr\u00e4fte\ndie Felsen erkletterte und jeden Augenblick den Tod erwartete. Wie ich\ndamals auf die Stunde der Befreiung kaum hoffen konnte, so sa\u00dfen auch\njetzt diese drei armen Ungl\u00fccklichen an \u00f6dem Strande und ahnten nicht,\nwie nahe ihnen die Errettung bevorst\u00fcnde.\nAls die fremden G\u00e4ste an der Insel angelangt waren, hatte die Flut\ngerade ihre \u00e4u\u00dferste H\u00f6he erreicht. W\u00e4hrend sich nun die Seeleute\nauf der Insel sahen, war die Ebbe bereits eingetreten, und die\nSchaluppe lag g\u00e4nzlich auf dem Trockenen. Ich gelangte alsbald zu der\n\u00dcberzeugung, da\u00df wenigstens zehn Stunden vergehen m\u00fc\u00dften, ehe die\nSchaluppe wieder flott werden k\u00f6nne. Deshalb stieg ich von meinem\nBeobachtungsposten herunter und ging in meine trefflich verschanzte\nBurg. Da ich jedoch wu\u00dfte, da\u00df ich es jetzt mit einem viel gewandteren\nFeinde zu thun haben w\u00fcrde, als die Wilden waren, so lud ich mit\nFreitag sowohl die Kanonen als auch unsre \u00fcbrigen Feuerwaffen.\nEs mochte gegen 2 Uhr nachmittags geworden sein, die Hitze hatte\neine erdr\u00fcckende H\u00f6he erreicht. Ich sah jetzt keinen der Seeleute\nmehr; sie hatten sich wahrscheinlich in den Wald zur\u00fcckgezogen, um\nsich im Schatten der B\u00e4ume dem Schlafe zu \u00fcberlassen. Nur die drei\nGefangenen sa\u00dfen noch in dem Schatten eines Baumes, ohne jedoch der\nRuhe zu pflegen. Nur eine kleine Strecke von meinem Schl\u00f6\u00dfchen lagernd,\nbefanden sie sich gewisserma\u00dfen unter meinen Augen, dagegen g\u00e4nzlich\naus dem Gesichtskreise ihrer sorglosen Verfolger.\nDieser Augenblick schien mir geeignet, die Rettung der Gefangenen zu\nwagen und sie in Sicherheit zu bringen. Ich nahm zwei Flinten, ein\nPistol und ein Seitengewehr und bewaffnete Freitag mit drei Musketen,\neinem Seitengewehr und einem Pistol.\nMein Aussehen fl\u00f6\u00dfte Furcht ein; man denke nur an meinen Anzug aus\nZiegenfellen, die hohe M\u00fctze und den langen Bart! Auch Freitag sah\nphantastisch und f\u00fcrchterlich genug aus. In solchem Aufzuge nun und\nwohl bewehrt gingen wir ganz nahe bis zu den Fremden heran. Ohne von\ndenselben bemerkt zu werden, rief ich ihnen auf spanisch zu: \u00bbWer sind\nSie, meine Herren?\u00ab\nSie fuhren erschrocken auf, schienen jedoch bei dem Anblick unsrer\nabenteuerlichen Erscheinung noch mehr \u00fcberrascht zu sein; ja sie\nzeigten Lust, sich davonzumachen, bis ich ihnen zurief: \u00bbF\u00fcrchten Sie\nnichts von mir, Ihr Retter ist n\u00e4her, als Sie glauben.\u00ab\nDa zog einer von den Gefangenen den Hut ab und erwiderte sehr ernst:\n\u00bbSo mu\u00df er uns geradeswegs vom Himmel gesandt sein, denn von Menschen\nerwarten wir keine Hilfe mehr.\u00ab\n\u00bbIch sah Ihre Not\u00ab, sagte ich. \u00bbSie schienen Ihre rohen Begleiter\nanzuflehen, und ich bemerkte, wie einer derselben drohend seinen S\u00e4bel\nschwang. Sagen Sie mir, wie ich Sie erl\u00f6sen kann!\u00ab\nDer ungl\u00fcckliche Mann war au\u00dfer sich vor \u00dcberraschung. \u00bbSind Sie ein\nMensch oder ein Bote des Himmels?\u00ab rief er.\n\u00bbIch bin ein Engl\u00e4nder, der bereit ist, Ihnen beizustehen. Wir sind\nzwar, wie Sie sehen, nur unser zwei, aber wir haben Waffen und\nMunition. Sagen Sie mir daher ohne R\u00fcckhalt, was f\u00fcr ein Ungemach Sie\nbetroffen und was wir f\u00fcr Sie thun k\u00f6nnen.\u00ab\n\u00bbIch war Kapit\u00e4n von jenem Schiffe, dessen Besatzung sich gegen\nmich emp\u00f6rte und meinen Tod beschlo\u00df. Man kam \u00fcberein, mich nebst\nzwei M\u00e4nnern, meinem Leutnant und einem Passagier an dieses Land\nauszusetzen, um uns einem ungewissen Schicksale preiszugeben.\u00ab\n\u00bbWo sind Ihre Feinde? Wissen Sie, wohin sie gegangen sind?\u00ab\n\u00bbDort in jenen Wald\u00ab, antwortete der Kapit\u00e4n.\n\u00bbSind Ihre Feinde mit Schie\u00dfgewehren versehen?\u00ab\n\u00bbSie haben zwei Flinten, eine dritte liegt noch in der Schaluppe.\u00ab\n\u00bbGut, Kapit\u00e4n, so folgen Sie mir vorsichtig nach dem W\u00e4ldchen.\u00ab\nSogleich setzten wir uns in Bewegung und sahen bald die M\u00e4nner, die\nsich s\u00e4mtlich dem Schlafe \u00fcberlassen hatten.\n\u00bbJetzt w\u00e4re es leicht, sie zu t\u00f6ten\u00ab, begann ich wieder, \u00bbohne da\u00df ein\neinziger entkommt; oder wollen Sie die Meuterer lieber zu Gefangenen\nmachen?\u00ab\n\u00bbZwei von ihnen sind ausgemachte Schurken, welche auf keinen Fall Gnade\nverdienen. K\u00f6nnte man sich dieser beiden Menschen bem\u00e4chtigen, so\nw\u00fcrden hoffentlich die andern zu ihrer Pflicht zur\u00fcckkehren.\u00ab\n\u00bbH\u00f6ren Sie mich jetzt an, Sir! Wenn ich alles wage, um Sie zu retten,\nw\u00fcrden Sie dann wohl in einige Bedingungen willigen?\u00ab\n\u00bbIch und mein Schiff, wenn wir desselben wieder habhaft werden k\u00f6nnen,\nsollen ganz zu Ihrer Verf\u00fcgung stehen.\u00ab\n\u00bbNun gut!\u00ab fuhr ich fort, \u00bbich stelle Ihnen nur zwei Bedingungen.\n*Erstens*: Solange Sie auf dieser Insel bleiben, verpflichten Sie sich\nzum Gehorsam gegen mich. Die Waffen, welche ich Ihnen anvertraue, haben\nSie mir stets auf mein Verlangen zur\u00fcckzugeben und zu geloben, weder\nmir noch den Meinigen zu schaden, vielmehr nur mein Bestes zu f\u00f6rdern.\n*Zweitens*: Kommen Sie wieder in Besitz ihres Schiffes, so bringen\nSie mich und meinen Diener samt den Habseligkeiten, die ich besitze,\nunentgeltlich nach England.\u00ab\n\u00bbSir\u00ab, erwiderte darauf sofort der Kapit\u00e4n, \u00bbdiese Bedingungen sind so\nnat\u00fcrlich, da\u00df ich freudig auf dieselben eingehe.\u00ab\n\u00bbUnd wir\u00ab, fielen des Kapit\u00e4ns beide Gef\u00e4hrten ein, \u00bbwir geloben, Ihnen\nzu folgen, wohin es auch sein mag!\u00ab\n\u00bbBrav gesprochen, ihr M\u00e4nner!\u00ab erwiderte ich und dr\u00fcckte ihnen die\nH\u00e4nde. \u00bbWohlan, ans Werk! Hier sind drei Musketen nebst Pulver und\nBlei. Das beste w\u00e4re, auf die Meuterer zu feuern, w\u00e4hrend sie noch\nschlafen. Bleiben einige von der Weckungssalve verschont und bitten um\nPardon, so k\u00f6nnen wir sie begnadigen.\u00ab\nW\u00e4hrenddessen sahen wir zwei der M\u00e4nner aus dem nahen Geb\u00fcsch treten.\n\u00bbSind das die R\u00e4delsf\u00fchrer?\u00ab fragte ich den Kapit\u00e4n.\n\u00bbNein, Sir!\u00ab\n\u00bbGut, so lassen wir sie laufen, da sie die Vorsehung rettet. Nun aber\nvorw\u00e4rts!\u00ab\nAngefeuert durch meine Worte, nahm der Kapit\u00e4n sein Gewehr auf, seine\nGef\u00e4hrten thaten desgleichen, und vorw\u00e4rts ging der Marsch. Durch\ndas entstandene Ger\u00e4usch wachte ein dritter von den Seeleuten auf. Er\nstie\u00df, als er die Anr\u00fcckenden sah, ein Geschrei aus, um die Schl\u00e4fer\nzu wecken. Letztere sprangen erschrocken auf, aber in demselben\nAugenblicke feuerten der Leutnant und der Passagier so gl\u00fccklich, da\u00df\neiner der R\u00e4delsf\u00fchrer auf der Stelle tot blieb, der andre verwundet\nwurde. Der Kapit\u00e4n, der sich des Schie\u00dfens weislich enthalten hatte,\nst\u00fcrzte auf ihn los und streckte ihn durch einen kr\u00e4ftigen Kolbenschlag\nvollends zu Boden. Ein andrer war leicht verwundet, die \u00fcbrigen drei\nbaten, als sie mich und Freitag heranr\u00fccken sahen, flehentlich um\nGnade. W\u00e4hrend sie noch auf ihren Knieen lagen, kamen auch jene beiden,\ndie zuerst erwacht waren, angelockt durch die gefallenen Sch\u00fcsse,\nherbeigeeilt. Als sie jedoch merkten, wie sehr sich die Verh\u00e4ltnisse\nverwandelt hatten und wie ihre bisherigen Gefangenen, mit Flinten\nbewaffnet, Herren des Feldes waren, so versuchten sie keinen unn\u00fctzen\nWiderstand, sondern unterwarfen sich gleich ihren Gef\u00e4hrten. Somit\nhatten wir einen vollst\u00e4ndigen Sieg errungen.\nDer Kapit\u00e4n wandte sich nun mit folgenden ernsten Worten an die\nBesiegten: \u00bbIhr wi\u00dft, da\u00df ihr als Emp\u00f6rer und Meuterer den Tod verdient\nhabt. Ich will jedoch Gnade f\u00fcr Recht ergehen lassen und euch das Leben\nschenken, aber nur unter der Bedingung, da\u00df ihr euern Verrat bereut und\nschw\u00f6rt, mir beizustehen, um mein Schiff zur\u00fcckzuerobern!\u00ab\nHiergegen hatte ich zwar nichts einzuwenden, verpflichtete ihn aber\ndazu, die Gefangenen, solange sie auf der Insel sein w\u00fcrden, an H\u00e4nden\nund F\u00fc\u00dfen gebunden in Sicherheit zu halten. Ich lie\u00df ihnen daher\nsogleich an den H\u00e4nden Fesseln anlegen und gab dem Leutnant und Freitag\nden Auftrag, die Gefangenen nach der Grotte zu bringen und ihnen die\nF\u00fc\u00dfe zu binden.\nEs befanden sich noch 26 Seeleute an Bord des Schiffes. Alle hatten\nwegen ihrer Auflehnung gegen ihr Oberhaupt das Leben verwirkt. Der\nKapit\u00e4n sprach sich dahin aus, da\u00df es sehr schwierig sein w\u00fcrde, ihnen\nwirksam beizukommen, denn sie w\u00fcrden sich wohl aufs \u00e4u\u00dferste zur Wehre\nsetzen. Wir mu\u00dften daher auf eine List sinnen, um sie an einer Landung\nzu verhindern. Zu rechter Zeit fiel mir noch ein, da\u00df die auf dem\nSchiffe zur\u00fcckgebliebenen Leute, wenn ihre Kameraden mit der Schaluppe\nnicht zur\u00fcckk\u00e4men, diese unfehlbar mit dem zweiten Boote suchen w\u00fcrden\nund uns dann viel zu schaffen machen k\u00f6nnten.\nZuerst mu\u00dfte die eine Schaluppe, die sich bereits in unsern H\u00e4nden\nbefand, unbrauchbar gemacht werden, damit sie nicht fortgef\u00fchrt werden\nk\u00f6nne. Unverweilt begaben wir uns an diese Arbeit, nahmen Ruder, Mast,\nSegel, Steuerruder, ferner die Flinte, ein Pulverhorn, eine Flasche\nBranntwein, eine zweite mit Rum, Zwieback und ein gro\u00dfes St\u00fcck Zucker\nheraus. Nachdem wir alles an den Strand gebracht, bohrten wir ein\ngro\u00dfes Loch in den Boden der Barke, um ihre Wegf\u00fchrung unm\u00f6glich zu\nmachen. Nun kamen auch der Leutnant und Freitag zur\u00fcck, und unsern\nvereinten Anstrengungen gelang es bald, die Schaluppe so hoch auf den\nStrand zu ziehen, da\u00df selbst die h\u00f6chste Flut sie nicht erreichen oder\nwegsp\u00fclen konnte.\nF\u00fcr jetzt lie\u00df sich nichts weiter thun. Wir brachen deshalb nach\nmeiner Burg auf. Nur wenige Schritte waren wir fortgegangen, als ein\nKanonenschu\u00df vom Schiffe her \u00fcber die Wellenfl\u00e4che erscholl, jedenfalls\nin der Absicht, die Schaluppe zur\u00fcckzurufen. Aber diese lag in guter\nRuhe und r\u00fchrte sich nicht. Da der erste Signalschu\u00df wirkungslos blieb,\nso feuerte die Mannschaft des Schiffes von Zeit zu Zeit mehrere Sch\u00fcsse\nhintereinander ab, nat\u00fcrlich ohne jeden Erfolg.\nWir beschleunigten unsre Schritte, um m\u00f6glichst rasch die Burg zu\nerreichen. Der Kapit\u00e4n sowie seine beiden Gef\u00e4hrten bewunderten meine\nBefestigungswerke und die Kunst, wie ich sie so geschickt vor jedem\nSp\u00e4herauge verborgen hatte. Freilich war aber auch das W\u00e4ldchen\nvor mehr als 20 Jahren gepflanzt und schnell zu solchem Dickicht\nverwachsen, da\u00df man schlechterdings nicht durchkommen konnte, au\u00dfer auf\ndem engen, sich durchschl\u00e4ngelnden Pfade, der nur von mir und Freitag\nbegangen wurde.\n\u00bbNun, Kapit\u00e4n\u00ab, fragte ich, \u00bbwie gef\u00e4llt Ihnen mein Schlo\u00df? Gew\u00e4hrt\ndiese Mauer nicht ein ganz pr\u00e4chtiges Versteck?\u00ab\n\u00bbVortrefflich, Sir! Hinter dieser lebendigen Mauer sind wir besser\ngesch\u00fctzt, als wenn wir unser zwanzig w\u00e4ren.\u00ab\n\u00bbDas ist aber noch nicht alles, Kapit\u00e4n\u00ab, fuhr ich rasch fort; \u00bbich\nbesitze auch noch eine Sommerresidenz, in welcher ich einen Teil der\nsch\u00f6nen Jahreszeit zubringe. Die sollten Sie sehen, Herr; dort liegt\ndas Paradies der Insel! Auch diese werde ich Ihnen ehestens zeigen\nk\u00f6nnen. Jetzt aber ist es notwendig, da\u00df Sie mir samt Ihren Genossen\nauf meine Warte folgen, um von dort aus das Schiff zu beobachten. Du,\nFreitag, bringe die Ferngl\u00e4ser und einige Erquickungen hinauf!\u00ab\nOben angelangt, bemerkten wir, wie die Schiffsmannschaft des heftig\nvom Winde gesch\u00fcttelten Fahrzeugs, nachdem alle ihre Sch\u00fcsse ohne\ndie erwartete Wirkung geblieben waren, eine bunte Flagge aufgehi\u00dft\nund, weil auch dieses Mittel nicht verfing, das andre Boot ausgesetzt\nhatte, welches sofort der K\u00fcste zusteuerte. Das Meer befand sich in\nstarkem Wogengang, und die Leute in der Schaluppe hatten kr\u00e4ftig\nzuzugreifen, um vorw\u00e4rts zu kommen. Das Boot mochte etwa mit zehn\nM\u00e4nnern, einschlie\u00dflich des Schiffsjungen, bemannt und diese s\u00e4mtlich\nmit Schie\u00dfgewehren versehen sein.\n\u00bbLeider\u00ab, sagte der Kapit\u00e4n, \u00bbbefinden sich unter diesen Leuten nur\ndrei ehrliche Burschen, welche durch Furcht zur Emp\u00f6rung gezwungen\nworden sind. Die andern aber, haupts\u00e4chlich der Hochbootsmann, welcher\ndie Schaluppe kommandiert, sind so abgefeimte Schurken, da\u00df wir uns des\n\u00c4rgsten von ihnen versehen d\u00fcrfen.\u00ab\n\u00bbOho, Leute wie wir, Kapit\u00e4n\u00ab, entgegnete ich, \u00bbbrauchen sich nicht\nzu f\u00fcrchten. Ich habe auf dieser Insel schon schlimmere Zeiten\n\u00fcberstanden; darum fassen Sie Mut und Vertrauen, mein Herr!\u00ab\n\u00bbIch will es!\u00ab\n\u00bbNun gut! Zun\u00e4chst scheint es doch zweckm\u00e4\u00dfig gewesen zu sein, die\n\u00fcbrigen in der H\u00f6hle fern zu halten. Nur eins beunruhigt mich etwas,\nda\u00df n\u00e4mlich drei brave Burschen unter den Ankommenden sind, die wir\nschonen und uns zu eigen machen m\u00f6chten.\u00ab\nJetzt n\u00e4herte sich die Schaluppe dem Ufer und steuerte demselben\nentlang bis zu jener Stelle, wo das zuerst angekommene Boot angelegt\nhatte. Hier stieg die Rotte ans Land und zog ihre Schaluppe hoch auf\nden Strand hinauf. Zuerst sahen sie nach ihrem Boote. Wer aber malt\nihre Best\u00fcrzung, als sie dasselbe fest, wie die Arche Noahs, auf dem\nTrockenen sitzen, stark durchbohrt und von der ganzen Ausr\u00fcstung\nentbl\u00f6\u00dft sahen! Dann erhoben sie einen dreimaligen lauten Ruf; aber\nkeine Antwort t\u00f6nte ihnen zur\u00fcck. Da dieses Signal, wie die fr\u00fcheren,\nvergeblich blieb, stellten sie sich in einen Kreis und schossen ihre\nGewehre auf einmal los, so da\u00df es durch die Felsenth\u00e4ler wie dr\u00f6hnender\nDonner rollte. Atemlos lauschten sie auf eine Antwort. Doch kein\nmenschliches Wesen lie\u00df seinen Ruf ert\u00f6nen; nur das Echo der Berge gab\nden Klang der Feuerwaffen wieder.\nDa schien es den Fremden nicht mehr geheuer zu sein: schnell setzten\nsie ihr Boot ins Wasser und stie\u00dfen vom Strande ab. Bald aber wendeten\nsie sich wieder rechtsum und steuerten geraden Laufes von neuem auf die\nInsel los, um ihre vermi\u00dften Kameraden aufzusuchen. Wirklich stiegen\nsieben aus, und es blieben drei Mann zur Bewachung des Bootes zur\u00fcck.\nDas lag freilich nicht in unsrer Berechnung; denn was half es uns, jene\nsieben M\u00e4nner zu \u00fcberw\u00e4ltigen, wenn unterdes die Zur\u00fcckgebliebenen dem\nSchiffe wieder zusteuern und mit demselben sich auf und davon machen\nkonnten?\nDie sieben Gelandeten schritten, sich dicht beisammen haltend, am Saume\ndes dichten Buschw\u00e4ldchens vor meiner Festung hin und stiegen auf\neinen jener westlichen H\u00fcgel, von denen sich eine weite Fernsicht \u00fcber\ndie Ebenen nach Nordost darbot. Oben auf dem Gipfel begannen sie laut\nzu rufen. Augenscheinlich mochten sie sich nicht weiter landeinw\u00e4rts\nwagen, denn sie setzten sich im Schatten eines Baumes nieder, um Rat zu\nhalten. Pl\u00f6tzlich brachen sie wieder auf und schlugen den R\u00fcckweg nach\nder Schaluppe ein. Dieser Augenblick forderte zu schneller Entscheidung\nauf; hier konnte nur eine List helfen.\nIch trug dem Leutnant und Freitag auf, linker Hand nach derselben\nH\u00fcgelreihe, von welcher die Mannschaft hergekommen, vorsichtig\nvorzugehen, dann auf einen H\u00fcgel zu steigen und aus allen Leibeskr\u00e4ften\nso lange zu schreien, bis die Matrosen ihnen antworten w\u00fcrden. Wenn\ndies geschehe, so sollten sie dieselben unter wiederholtem Rufen\nlangsam von H\u00fcgel zu H\u00fcgel in das Geh\u00f6lz des Innern locken, ohne sich\njedoch von ihnen einholen zu lassen.\nDie Meuterer wollten eben wieder in See stechen, als der Leutnant den\nersten Ruf erschallen lie\u00df. Sofort machten jene Halt und schritten der\nRichtung zu, aus welcher der Ton erscholl. Unsre Leute wiederholten\nihr Geschrei, und unter fortgesetzten Lockrufen ging es immer tiefer\nlandeinw\u00e4rts.\nJetzt schien der g\u00fcnstige Augenblick gekommen zu sein, um die Schaluppe\nzu \u00fcberfallen. Nur ein Mann befand sich in derselben; von den beiden\nandern W\u00e4chtern war der eine ausgestiegen und dem Haufen nachgerannt,\nw\u00e4hrend der andre ein nahegelegenes Geb\u00fcsch aufsuchen wollte, um\nsich daselbst niederzulegen. Der Kapit\u00e4n schmetterte ihn durch einen\nKolbenschlag tot zu Boden; dann rief er den in der Schaluppe an, sich\nzu ergeben. Dieser, einer von den verf\u00fchrten Meuterern, bat seinen\nVorgesetzten flehentlich um Gnade, indem er schwur, k\u00fcnftig Gut und\nLeben f\u00fcr den Kapit\u00e4n einsetzen zu wollen.\nIn der H\u00f6hle waren sechs Gefangene, von denen einer verwundet war.\nZwei andern konnte man zur Not trauen; die letzten drei aber hielt der\nKapit\u00e4n so weit f\u00fcr zuverl\u00e4ssig, um sie unserm Trupp als Verst\u00e4rkung\neinverleiben zu k\u00f6nnen. Auch aus der zweiten Schaluppe der Meuterer\nentfernten wir Mast, Segel, Ruder und legten sie ebenfalls am hohen\nStrand ins Trockene. Diese Arbeit verursachte nat\u00fcrlich viel M\u00fche, da\nwir nur unser vier waren. Dann zogen wir uns in die Burg zur\u00fcck.\nAls wir daselbst anlangten, brach bereits die Nacht an. Wir erquickten\nuns nach \u00fcberstandener M\u00fche und Gefahr durch Reis, Rosinen,\nZiegenfleisch und Rum. Noch sa\u00dfen wir um die Flamme des Talglichtes\nversammelt, als auch Freitag und der Leutnant zur\u00fcckkamen. Beide hatten\nsich ihres Auftrags zu unsrer v\u00f6lligen Zufriedenheit entledigt, hatten\ndurch Rufen und Schreien die Bootsleute von H\u00fcgel zu H\u00fcgel gelockt und\nendlich dieselben pl\u00f6tzlich sich selbst \u00fcberlassen. Dann waren sie\nnach der Festung geeilt, so da\u00df schwerlich vor zwei oder drei Stunden\nein Zusammentreffen bevorstand.\nNach dem Mahle schickte ich den Kapit\u00e4n, den Passagier, Freitag und\njenen begnadigten Meuterer von der Schaluppe, Namens *Robertson*, nach\nder Grotte ab, um jene drei Gefangenen, auf deren Treue zu z\u00e4hlen war,\nhierher zu bringen, so da\u00df wir dann zusammen die Zahl von neun Mann\nausmachten. In kurzer Zeit kamen sie s\u00e4mtlich zur\u00fcck, und nachdem ich\neine Musterung gehalten, besonders aber die Meuterer in strengste\nPflicht genommen hatte, verteilte ich Waffen und Munition, im ganzen\nzw\u00f6lf Feuergewehre, ferner f\u00fcnf Degen, wovon nat\u00fcrlich zwei auf meine\nPerson kamen.\nSo vorbereitet, warteten wir auf unserm Posten. Es mochte ungef\u00e4hr eine\nStunde vergangen sein, als wir bemerkten, wie unsre Feinde herannahten.\nNach gro\u00dfer Anstrengung gelangten sie endlich an ihren Landungsplatz.\nDoch wie versteinert blieben sie stehen, als sie ihr Boot nicht im\nWasser, sondern auf dem Trockenen und noch dazu der ganzen Ausr\u00fcstung\nberaubt sahen! Ihr Aberglaube schien ihnen Gespenster und H\u00f6llenspuk\nvorzumalen, die dieses Werk vollbracht h\u00e4tten. Kaum konnte ich jetzt\nmeine Leute in Schranken halten, die vor Begier brannten, auf sie\nloszust\u00fcrzen. Indes bedachte ich, da\u00df in dieser Dunkelheit gar leicht\nauch einer der Unsrigen verwundet werden k\u00f6nnte, und so wartete ich auf\neinen g\u00fcnstigen Augenblick zum Angriff.\nDer Hochbootsmann, der Verwegenste der rebellischen Schar, bot ein\nver\u00e4chtliches Bild, jammerte wie ein Kind, rang verzweiflungsvoll\ndie H\u00e4nde und rannte hin und her. Er rief die verlorenen Kameraden\nwiederholt laut beim Namen, aber keine Stimme der Genossen antwortete\nihm durch die finstere Nacht.\nUm sicher zu gehen, r\u00fcckte ich meinen Hinterhalt n\u00e4her und gebot\nFreitag und dem Kapit\u00e4n, m\u00f6glichst ger\u00e4uschlos an den Feind\nheranzukriechen. Es w\u00e4hrte auch nicht lange, so kam der Hochbootsmann\nmit zwei seiner Spie\u00dfgesellen in die N\u00e4he der verborgen Lauernden.\nJetzt stand der Kapit\u00e4n mit Freitag auf; beide dr\u00fcckten zu gleicher\nZeit ab, und der Sch\u00e4ndliche lag tot in seinem Blute. Der eine seiner\nGenossen ward so getroffen, da\u00df er nach einer Stunde seinen Geist\naufgab; der dritte aber, nur leicht verwundet, entfloh.\nDer Knall der Flinten und das Geschrei der Verwundeten galten\nf\u00fcr uns als Zeichen des gemeinschaftlichen Vorr\u00fcckens. Wie schon\nbemerkt, bestand unsre ganze Armee aus neun Mann. Der Wald war so\ndicht und die Nacht so dunkel, da\u00df es den Gegnern nicht m\u00f6glich war,\nunsre Streitkr\u00e4fte abzusch\u00e4tzen. Um ihre sofortige Unterwerfung\nherbeizuf\u00fchren, forderte ich Robertson auf, jeden der Feinde mit seinem\nNamen anzurufen.\nEr rief also zuerst: \u00bbTom Smith!\u00ab\nSogleich antwortete dieser zur\u00fcck: \u00bbBist du es, Robertson?\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, ja, ich bin's. Streckt die Waffen, oder ihr seid alle des Todes!\u00ab\n\u00bbWem sollen wir uns ergeben?\u00ab fragte Smith.\n\u00bbUnser Kapit\u00e4n ist hier mit 50 Mann\u00ab, antwortete Robertson. \u00bbDer\nHochbootsmann ist tot, Will Fry ist verwundet, ich selbst bin gefangen;\nwenn ihr euch nicht unterwerft, so seid ihr alle verloren.\u00ab\n\u00bbWird man uns aber auch Gnade bezeigen?\u00ab fragte Tom Smith weiter. \u00bbWenn\nman uns das Leben l\u00e4\u00dft, so wollen wir uns ergeben.\u00ab\n\u00bbIch werde sogleich den Kapit\u00e4n fragen\u00ab, gab Robertson zur Antwort.\nDer Kapit\u00e4n ergriff aber selbst das Wort und rief: \u00bbSmith! Was ich\nversprochen, halte ich. Streckt ihr sofort die Waffen, so ist euch das\nLeben geschenkt, au\u00dfer Will Atkins!\u00ab\n\u00bbUm Gotteswillen!\u00ab rief dieser flehend, \u00bbgebt auch mir Pardon, Kapit\u00e4n.\nHabe ich etwa Schlimmeres ver\u00fcbt als die \u00fcbrigen?\u00ab\n\u00bbDu l\u00fcgst, Atkins\u00ab, fuhr ihn der Kapit\u00e4n an; \u00bbbist du es nicht gewesen,\nder zuerst Hand an mich legte, der mir die H\u00e4nde gebunden und mich\nwehrlos gemacht hat?\u00ab\n\u00bbGnade, Gnade, Kapit\u00e4n!\u00ab wimmerte Atkins.\n\u00bbDas wird sich finden. Jetzt noch einmal, ihr alle streckt entweder\nsofort das Gewehr, oder -- --!\u00ab\nOhne Widerstand ergaben sich die Meuterer, die nun als Gefangene durch\ndas W\u00e4ldchen auf den freien Platz neben dem \u00e4u\u00dferen Walle gef\u00fchrt\nwurden. Hier redete der Kapit\u00e4n ihnen ins Gewissen und stellte ihnen\ndie traurigen Folgen, die sie sich selbst zuzuschreiben h\u00e4tten, vor.\n\u00bbIhr habt geglaubt\u00ab, schlo\u00df er seine Ansprache, \u00bbmich auf eine \u00f6de\nInsel auszusetzen, aber es hat Gott gefallen, mich zu retten; denn\nhier herrscht ein englischer *Gouverneur*, der mich menschenfreundlich\naufnahm. Ihr habt mich vorhin um Gnade angefleht; meine Gewalt \u00fcber\neuch ist hier zu Ende. Ihr geh\u00f6rt von nun an vor den Richterstuhl des\nGouverneurs.\u00ab\nDiese Worte wirkten ersch\u00fctternd auf die Gefangenen; sie baten ihren\nKapit\u00e4n, sich f\u00fcr sie bei dem Gouverneur der Insel zu verwenden.\nDer inhaltschwere Titel \u00bbGouverneur\u00ab galt meiner eignen Person. Aber\nich hielt mich nebst Freitag zur\u00fcck und lie\u00df mich nicht sehen, denn\nmein Anzug war jener W\u00fcrde nichts weniger wie angemessen. Doch die\nKriegslist gefiel mir, und ich erkl\u00e4rte mich einverstanden, die Rolle\nfortzuspielen. Ich beorderte also den Leutnant an den Kapit\u00e4n.\n\u00bbHerr\u00ab, berichtete jener, \u00bbSeine Exzellenz der Gouverneur w\u00fcnscht Sie\nzu sprechen.\u00ab\n\u00bbMelden Sie Seiner Exzellenz\u00ab, erwiderte der Kapit\u00e4n, \u00bbda\u00df ich\nunverweilt zu seinen Befehlen sein werde.\u00ab\nDie Gefangenen mu\u00dften diesen Worten nach glauben, da\u00df wirklich ein\nGouverneur mit Truppen in der N\u00e4he stehe. Als der Kapit\u00e4n aber zu\nmir kam, schlug ich ihm vor, der Vorsicht halber unsre Gefangenen zu\nteilen; ich forderte ihn auf, Atkins und die beiden widerspenstigen\nGesellen an H\u00e4nden und F\u00fc\u00dfen gebunden nach der H\u00f6hle zu schicken, die\n\u00fcbrigen lie\u00df ich in dem Raume zwischen den beiden W\u00e4llen unterbringen\nund glaubte somit, die Mannschaft unsch\u00e4dlich gemacht zu haben. Nunmehr\nhielt ich mit dem Kapit\u00e4n, dem Leutnant und dem Passagier Rat, wie wir\nuns des Schiffes bem\u00e4chtigen k\u00f6nnten; ich sprach die Zuversicht aus,\nda\u00df uns die Seeleute bei der Wiedereroberung unterst\u00fctzen w\u00fcrden. Es\nkam darauf an, die Stimmung derselben genau zu erforschen, weshalb ich\nden Kapit\u00e4n und Leutnant nach der Grotte schickte, wohin ihnen Freitag\nmit einer brennenden Kerze den Weg zeigte. -- Der Kapit\u00e4n sprach in\nmildem Tone zu seinen Matrosen: \u00bbIch werde versuchen, euch bei dem\nGouverneur der Insel Verzeihung zu erwirken; aber ich rechne bei euch\nnoch auf etwas andres: Ihr sollt mir das Schiff wiedererobern helfen,\ndenn davon h\u00e4ngt alles ab. Seid ihr dazu bereit?\u00ab\nEinm\u00fctig versicherten die Seeleute, ihm in allen St\u00fccken bis zum\nletzten Blutstropfen beizustehen. Er solle sie f\u00fchren, wohin er wolle,\nund wenn es gegen die H\u00f6lle und den Teufel w\u00e4re.\n\u00bbIch rechne auf euch\u00ab, beendete der Kapit\u00e4n das Gespr\u00e4ch.\nEr kam zu mir zur\u00fcck und teilte mir die Gesinnungen der Seeleute mit.\nDa ich aber glaubte, da\u00df unsre eigne Sicherheit keine allzugro\u00dfe\nNachgiebigkeit gestattete, so sandte ich den Kapit\u00e4n mit der Antwort\nzur\u00fcck: Die sechs gesunden Gefangenen sollten zur Expedition nach\ndem Schiffe zugelassen werden; hingegen sollte Atkins mit den beiden\nVerwundeten als Geiseln zur\u00fcckbleiben und ohne weiteres aufgekn\u00fcpft\nwerden, wenn die andern der Untreue sich schuldig machen w\u00fcrden. Die\nBeg\u00fcnstigten mu\u00dften feierlich geloben, dem Gouverneur unverbr\u00fcchlichen\nGehorsam zu leisten.\nDie Streitkr\u00e4fte, welche uns f\u00fcr die Eroberung des Schiffes zur\nVerf\u00fcgung standen, waren nun folgende. Erstens: der *Kapit\u00e4n*, der\n*Leutnant* und der *Passagier*. Zweitens: *f\u00fcnf Freigelassene* von\nder ersten Schaluppe. Drittens: *Robertson*, *Tom Smith* und *drei\nFreigelassene* von der zweiten Schaluppe. Im ganzen also *dreizehn*\nMann. Ich und Freitag durften der Expedition nicht beiwohnen, da wir\nunsre Burg und unser sonstiges Eigentum sowie die Gefangenen im Auge\nbehalten mu\u00dften.\nJetzt galt es, schnell das Loch, welches wir in eine der Schaluppen\ngebohrt hatten, zu verstopfen und sie zur Kriegsfahrt auszur\u00fcsten.\nAls alles instand gesetzt war, bestiegen der Kapit\u00e4n, der Passagier\nund f\u00fcnf Mann das eine Boot, w\u00e4hrend der Leutnant mit ebenfalls\nf\u00fcnf Mann sich in dem andern einschiffte. Gegen Mitternacht segelte\ndie Mannschaft ab; ich aber harrte am Strande und lauschte \u00fcber das\nweite Meer, um zu vernehmen, welche Entscheidung der n\u00e4chtliche Kampf\nherbeif\u00fchren w\u00fcrde.\nEs mochte gegen 2 Uhr sein, als ich vom Schiffe aus sieben\nKanonensch\u00fcsse vernahm, das verabredete Zeichen der gelungenen\nAusf\u00fchrung. Man kann sich keine Vorstellung von meiner Freude machen,\nda ich den nahenden Augenblick meiner Rettung im Geiste vor mir sah;\nich sank auf die Kniee nieder und dankte Gott inbr\u00fcnstig f\u00fcr seine\nBarmherzigkeit. Dann begab ich mich mit Freitag nach Hause, und bald\nsenkte sich ein tiefer Schlaf auf unsre m\u00fcden Augen. Gegen Morgen\nwurden wir durch einen Kanonenschu\u00df geweckt, und wenige Augenblicke\ndarauf h\u00f6rte ich mich laut rufen: \u00bbGouverneur, Gouverneur!\u00ab Rasch\nbestieg ich, ein Fernglas in der Hand, meine Warte, wo ich den Kapit\u00e4n\nbereits anwesend fand. Er schlo\u00df mich st\u00fcrmisch in die Arme und sprach:\n\u00bbMein Freund, mein Erretter! Dort liegt Ihr, unser stattliches Schiff;\nes geh\u00f6rt Ihnen, nebst allem, was wir besitzen!\u00ab\nIch wandte jetzt meine Blicke auf die See und sah das Schiff, kaum eine\nhalbe Stunde vom Ufer entfernt, in der Bai vor Anker liegen.\nJetzt stand meiner Befreiung nichts mehr im Wege. Ein t\u00fcchtiges Schiff\nwar zu meiner Bereitschaft, um mich zu bringen, wohin mein Herz\nbegehrte. Ich umarmte den braven Kapit\u00e4n und begr\u00fc\u00dfte ihn als meinen\nvom Himmel gesandten Befreier, der mich aus jahrelanger Verbannung\nerl\u00f6sen sollte.\nAls ich mich wieder erholt hatte, stiegen wir hinab. Im Innern der Burg\nerz\u00e4hlte mir der Kapit\u00e4n den Hergang.\n\u00bbSobald sich unsre Schaluppe dem Schiffe n\u00e4herte\u00ab, begann derselbe\nseinen Bericht, \u00bbbefahl ich Robertson, die wachende Schiffsmannschaft\nanzurufen und zu sagen, er br\u00e4chte ihre Kameraden zur\u00fcck, die sie erst\nnach langem Suchen aufgefunden h\u00e4tten.\n\u00bbMit solchen Reden wu\u00dfte er sie so lange zu besch\u00e4ftigen, bis die\nSchaluppe unter dem Schiffe beilegen konnte. Ich und unser tapferer\nMitreisender gerieten zuerst mit den Meuterern ins Handgemenge.\nSobald aber der noch schlaftrunkene stellvertretende Hochbootsmann\nniedergestreckt und auch der Zimmermann unsch\u00e4dlich gemacht worden,\ngelang es uns sehr bald, mit den \u00fcbrigen drei uns zu Meistern des\nHalbdecks des Schiffes zu machen. Nachdem die gesamte Mannschaft des\nzweiten Bootes nachgeklettert war, s\u00e4uberten wir das Vorderdeck,\ndrangen von da in die Springluke, die nach der K\u00fcche f\u00fchrte, und nahmen\nhier den Koch und noch zwei andre Meuterer gefangen.\n[Illustration: Kampf mit den Meuterern.]\n\u00bbHierauf lie\u00df ich die Luken schlie\u00dfen, damit die Mannschaft zwischen\nden Decken den \u00fcbrigen nicht zu Hilfe kommen k\u00f6nnte. Alsdann befahl\nich dem Leutnant, mit drei Mann die Kaj\u00fctte zu sprengen, in welcher\nsich der von den Emp\u00f6rern zum Kapit\u00e4n Gew\u00e4hlte befand. Durch den L\u00e4rm\naufgeschreckt, war dieser aus dem Bette gesprungen und hatte sich nebst\nzwei Matrosen bewaffnet. Sobald die Th\u00fcr ge\u00f6ffnet wurde, schossen\ndie M\u00e4nner von drinnen heraus, so da\u00df einer von uns get\u00f6tet, zwei\nverwundet, dem Leutnant aber der linke Arm verletzt wurde, was ihn\njedoch nicht abhielt, auf den Rebellenkapit\u00e4n loszust\u00fcrzen und ihm eine\nKugel durch den Kopf zu jagen. Als diesen die beiden Matrosen fallen\nsahen, schwand ihnen der Mut und sie ergaben sich. Noch waren acht\nMann \u00fcbrig, deren wir Herr werden mu\u00dften. Wir riefen ihnen zu, sich zu\nergeben, sonst w\u00e4ren sie alle des Todes. Sie sahen auch das Vergebliche\neines Widerstandes ein; wir \u00f6ffneten nun eine Luke und lie\u00dfen sie aufs\nDeck heraufsteigen. So war ich wieder rechtm\u00e4\u00dfiger Kommandeur des\nSchiffes geworden.\u00ab\nNach beendeter Erz\u00e4hlung befahl der Kapit\u00e4n, die f\u00fcr den Gouverneur\nbestimmten Gegenst\u00e4nde herbeizuschaffen. Zuerst war da ein\nFlaschenfutter mit mehreren Flaschen feiner Weine und Lik\u00f6re, sodann\nvortrefflicher Tabak nebst etlichen Pfeifen, zwei gro\u00dfe St\u00fccke\nRindfleisch sowie sechs St\u00fccke Schweinefleisch, ein Sack voll Erbsen\nund etwa 50 _kg_ Zwieback; ferner eine Kiste Zucker sowie eine\nmit Mehl, ein Sack voll Zitronen und eine Menge andrer n\u00fctzlicher\nVerbrauchsgegenst\u00e4nde; weiterhin sechs Hemden, sechs Halsbinden, zwei\nPaar Handschuhe, ein Paar Schuhe, sechs Paar Str\u00fcmpfe, ein Hut und ein\nvollst\u00e4ndiger Anzug, der erst einen Tag getragen sein konnte. Mit allen\ndiesen Gegenst\u00e4nden beschenkte mich der Kapit\u00e4n und setzte den Wunsch\nhinzu, ich m\u00f6chte mich sofort umkleiden, damit ich vor die Leute als\nGouverneur treten und die n\u00f6tigen Befehle selbst erteilen k\u00f6nnte, was\nsicherlich eine nachhaltige Wirkung nicht verfehlen w\u00fcrde. Gewi\u00df wird\nman mir aber glauben, wenn ich bemerke, da\u00df ich mich in meinem neuen,\nungewohnten Staatskleide anf\u00e4nglich nicht zurecht finden konnte und\nmich auch recht unbehaglich f\u00fchlte.\n[Illustration]\nVierzehntes Kapitel.\nRobinsons Abreise von seiner Insel.\n  Robinson als Gouverneur und Richter. -- Abschied von der Insel\n  und deren Bev\u00f6lkerung. -- Ankunft in England. -- Alles fremd in\n  der Heimat. -- Reise nach Lissabon. -- Stand der brasilischen\n  Besitzungen. -- Der brave Portugiese. -- G\u00fcnstige Verm\u00f6genslage. --\n  Landreise durch Spanien und Frankreich. -- W\u00f6lfe in den Pyren\u00e4en. --\n  Freitag und der B\u00e4r. -- Stillleben in London.\nW\u00e4hrend des Fr\u00fchst\u00fccks beratschlagten wir dar\u00fcber, was mit den\nGefangenen vorzunehmen w\u00e4re. Atkins und seine zwei Spie\u00dfgesellen waren\nunverbesserliche B\u00f6sewichte, vor denen man auf der Hut sein mu\u00dfte.\nH\u00e4tte man sie mitnehmen wollen, so durfte es nur in Fesseln geschehen,\num sie auf der ersten englischen Kolonie dem Arme der strafenden\nGerechtigkeit zu \u00fcberliefern. Der menschenfreundliche Kapit\u00e4n wollte\nindes Milde \u00fcben, womit auch ich mich einverstanden erkl\u00e4rte; wir kamen\ndeshalb \u00fcberein, die drei Personen auf der Insel zur\u00fcckzulassen. Aber\nsie sollten selbst diese Ma\u00dfregel als eine Gnade ansehen und darum\nbitten.\nNachdem ich mich angekleidet hatte, erteilte ich Freitag den Befehl,\ndie Gefangenen von der Grotte nach dem Burgw\u00e4ldchen zu bringen; ich\nselbst begab mich nach einiger Zeit dahin, lie\u00df die Kerle, gefesselt\nwie sie waren, mir vorf\u00fchren und hielt nun folgende kurze Ansprache:\n\u00bbDie ganze Nichtsw\u00fcrdigkeit eures Gebarens ist mir durchaus bekannt.\nIhr habt euch gegen euren braven Kapit\u00e4n emp\u00f6rt, um euren sch\u00e4ndlichen\nL\u00fcsten nach Seer\u00e4uberei zu fr\u00f6nen. Aber es ist gekommen, wie es kommen\nmu\u00dfte; wer andern eine Grube gr\u00e4bt, f\u00e4llt selbst hinein. Das Schiff\nist nach meinen Anordnungen seinem rechtm\u00e4\u00dfigen Befehlshaber wieder\n\u00fcbergeben worden, und ich habe Befehl erteilt, da\u00df euer Rebellenkapit\u00e4n\nan die gro\u00dfe Raa aufgekn\u00fcpft wird. K\u00f6nnt ihr \u00fcbrigen etwas zu eurer\nEntschuldigung oder Rechtfertigung vorbringen, so thut es beizeiten,\nsonst lasse ich euch samt und sonders neben Atkins aufh\u00e4ngen!\u00ab\nEiner von ihnen antwortete im Namen der \u00fcbrigen, sie h\u00e4tten nichts\nweiter zu sagen, als da\u00df der Kapit\u00e4n ihnen, als sie gefangen genommen\nworden w\u00e4ren, versprochen h\u00e4tte, sie beim Leben zu lassen, und sie\nb\u00e4ten daher Se. Exzellenz den Gouverneur dem\u00fctig um Gnade.\n\u00bbDa ich\u00ab, entgegnete ich hierauf, \u00bbdie Erlaubnis habe, mit dem ersten\nSchiffe nach England zur\u00fcckzufahren und meine Abreise eben bevorsteht,\nso w\u00fc\u00dfte ich keine andre Gnade walten zu lassen als die, euch hier auf\ndieser Insel zur\u00fcckzulassen; denn f\u00fchret ihr mit uns nach England, so\nerwartete euch dort von Rechts wegen der Strang.\u00ab\nDie Leute willigten dankbar ein, und um sie bis zu meiner Abreise\nimmer in Furcht zu erhalten, lie\u00df ich den erschossenen Meutererkapit\u00e4n\nan der gro\u00dfen Raa aufkn\u00fcpfen. Der eigentliche Kapit\u00e4n jedoch, der\ninzwischen zu uns getreten war und die Verk\u00fcndigung meines gn\u00e4digen\nEntscheids vernommen hatte, that, als ob er in diese milden Ma\u00dfregeln\ndurchaus nicht einwilligen k\u00f6nne, worauf ich, mich scheinbar in meiner\nGouverneursw\u00fcrde gekr\u00e4nkt f\u00fchlend, ihn mit den Worten zur\u00fcckwies: \u00bbHerr\nKapit\u00e4n, Sie wissen recht wohl, da\u00df die Gefangenen nicht die *Ihrigen*,\nsondern die *meinigen* sind.\u00ab\nNachdem alle noch einmal mich ihrer Dankbarkeit versichert hatten,\nunterrichtete ich sie von allen Dingen, deren Kenntnis ihnen jetzt\nvon Nutzen sein konnte: von S\u00e4en, Pflanzen und Ernten, von der\nBeschaffenheit des Bodens, von der T\u00f6pfer- und Korbflechterarbeit,\nvom Brotbacken, von meinem Lusthause, von der Grotte, von meinen\nZiegenparks und von meiner Milch- und K\u00e4sewirtschaft. Auch durfte ich\nnicht unerw\u00e4hnt lassen, da\u00df 17 Spanier und Portugiesen in den n\u00e4chsten\nTagen landen w\u00fcrden, f\u00fcr welche ich einen Brief in Bereitschaft halten\nwolle, der dem Don Caballos zu \u00fcbergeben sei. Endlich \u00fcberlie\u00df ich\nihnen noch Gewehre, Pulver und Schrot sowie die meisten Vorr\u00e4te, so da\u00df\nsie gegen jeden Mangel hinreichend gesch\u00fctzt waren. Nachdem ich sie\nin solcher Weise gen\u00fcgend ausger\u00fcstet hatte, lie\u00df ich die Gefangenen\nwieder abtreten.\nNun hielt ich mit dem Kapit\u00e4n \u00fcber die nahe *Abreise* Rat, obschon es\nmir in den letzten Stunden doch recht schwer aufs Herz fiel, meine\nInsel zu verlassen, an die sich so manche Erinnerungen des Schmerzes\nund der Freude kn\u00fcpften. Noch einmal gedachte ich lebhaft der\nvergangenen Zeiten und derjenigen Ereignisse, die meinen Sinn gel\u00e4utert\nund mich zu einem gottesf\u00fcrchtigen, t\u00fcchtigen Menschen umgewandelt\nhatten!\nEs war nach dem Schiffskalender am 19. *Dezember* 1686, als ich des\nAbends gegen 8 Uhr an Bord stieg, nachdem ich 27 Jahre, 2 Monate und 19\nTage auf der Insel verlebt hatte; an demselben Jahrestage war ich mit\nXury aus Saleh der Gefangenschaft der Mauren entflohen.\nGegen Morgen, etwa um 5 Uhr, ereignete sich noch ein eigent\u00fcmlicher\nVorfall. Zwei der Verbannten kamen an das Schiff geschwommen und baten,\nsie an Bord aufzunehmen, selbst auf die Gefahr hin, da\u00df sie in England\nauf der Stelle gehangen werden sollten. Als man sie fragte, was sie\nbewogen habe, die Insel zu verlassen, gaben sie zur Antwort: sie\nk\u00f6nnten nicht mit jenen B\u00f6sewichten zusammenleben, ohne in best\u00e4ndiger\nFurcht zu sein, von ihnen aufs grausamste mi\u00dfhandelt oder gar get\u00f6tet\nzu werden. Der Kapit\u00e4n bedeutete sie, da\u00df er ohne meine Einwilligung\nnichts versprechen k\u00f6nne; aber auf ihre wiederholte Beteuerung,\nredliche und brave Menschen werden zu wollen, nahm ich sie wieder auf,\nkonnte ihnen indes eine t\u00fcchtige Tracht Pr\u00fcgel nicht ersparen, weil sie\nin eigenm\u00e4chtiger Weise gehandelt hatten.\nDiese Vorf\u00e4lle sowie die Absendung einer Schaluppe, welche allerhand\nKisten und Koffer f\u00fcr die Gefangenen enthielt, hatten unsre Abfahrt so\nweit verz\u00f6gert, da\u00df die Sonne bereits hoch \u00fcber dem Horizont stand, als\nwir die Anker lichteten. Beim Scheiden von meiner Insel hatte ich zum\nAndenken meine gro\u00dfe M\u00fctze von Ziegenfell, meinen Sonnenschirm, meinen\nLieblingspapagei sowie meinen Hund mit mir genommen; aber auch das\nGeld, welches ich auf unserm und dem spanischen Schiffe gefunden, nicht\nvergessen. Es war, da es lange Jahre unber\u00fchrt in einem Winkel des\nKellers gelegen hatte, so schwarz und unkenntlich geworden, da\u00df es erst\nwieder blank gerieben werden mu\u00dfte, um als gangbare M\u00fcnze in Umlauf\ngesetzt zu werden. Freitag, der seinen Vater nicht wiedergesehen hatte,\nschaute unverwandt vom Verdeck aus nach der Insel zur\u00fcck, und Thr\u00e4nen\nstanden in seinen Augen. Auch ich wurde von tiefer Wehmut ergriffen,\nals die letzten Bergesgipfel in die blauen Wogen der See hinabtauchten.\nUnsre Reise ging so schnell und gl\u00fccklich von statten, da\u00df wir am\n11. Juni 1687 an Englands K\u00fcste landeten. Nicht durch Worte lassen\nsich die Gef\u00fchle schildern, mit denen ich nach 35j\u00e4hriger Abwesenheit\nzum erstenmal wieder die heimatlichen Fluren begr\u00fc\u00dfte. Wie fremd kam\nich mir in dieser Welt, unter diesen Menschen vor; war es mir doch,\nals h\u00e4tte ich niemals dieses Inselland gekannt! Noch seltsamer und\nstaunenswerter aber fand Freitag die Wunder meiner Heimat: in den\nH\u00e4fen den mastenreichen Wald der Schiffe, die langen Stra\u00dfen mit den\nhohen steinernen H\u00e4usern, das un\u00fcbersehbare Gew\u00fchl und das gesch\u00e4ftige\nTreiben der Bewohner.\nOhne Verzug eilten wir der Weltstadt London zu. Dort erkundigte ich\nmich zuerst nach der Witwe, der ich mein kleines Verm\u00f6gen anvertraut\nhatte. Sie war noch am Leben, aber zum zweitenmal Witwe geworden,\nhatte manches Ungemach erlebt und befand sich in den dr\u00fcckendsten\nVerm\u00f6gensumst\u00e4nden. Das Gest\u00e4ndnis, die anvertraute Summe mir nicht\nzur\u00fcckerstatten zu k\u00f6nnen, war f\u00fcr sie so niederschlagend, da\u00df mich die\narme brave Frau in tiefster Seele dauerte. Ich suchte sie \u00fcber diesen\nPunkt zu beruhigen und sagte ihr, da\u00df wir quitt seien, da ich ihr die\neinst bewiesene G\u00fcte bis jetzt nicht habe vergelten k\u00f6nnen.\nEin paar Tage darauf begab ich mich nach York. Mein Vater und meine\nMutter waren l\u00e4ngst gestorben, und von meiner ganzen Familie fand ich\nniemand mehr am Leben, als zwei Schwestern und zwei erwachsene S\u00f6hne\nmeines zweiten Bruders, der erst vor wenig Jahren heimgegangen war und\neiniges Verm\u00f6gen hinterlassen hatte. Da man nat\u00fcrlich annahm, ich sei\nl\u00e4ngst gestorben, so war ich von dem Erbteil ausgeschlossen worden,\nund meine Geschwister befanden sich nicht in der Lage, den auf mich\nentfallenden Anteil mir auszuzahlen. So mu\u00dfte ich mich denn lediglich\nauf das beschr\u00e4nken, was ich von meiner Insel mitgebracht hatte. In\nYork war nun nichts weiter f\u00fcr mich zu finden: ich kehrte deshalb nach\nLondon zur\u00fcck, wo ich mit dem Kapit\u00e4n zusammentraf. Der brave Mann\nhatte seinen Reedern einen so vorteilhaften Bericht \u00fcber mich und meine\nMitwirkung f\u00fcr die Wiedereroberung seines Schiffes erstattet, da\u00df sie\nnicht nur ihren lebhaftesten Dank gegen mich aussprachen, sondern\nmich auch baten, ein Geschenk von 200 Pfd. Sterling anzunehmen. Diese\nSumme setzte mich in den Stand, selbst nach *Lissabon* abzureisen, um\ndort Erkundigungen \u00fcber meine Pflanzung und meinen Gesch\u00e4ftsgenossen\nin Brasilien einzuziehen, der mich ohne Zweifel schon seit drei\nJahrzehnten f\u00fcr tot halten mu\u00dfte.\nIn dieser Absicht schiffte ich mich nach Lissabon ein, woselbst ich in\nBegleitung meines unzertrennlichen Gef\u00e4hrten Freitag gegen Ende des\nSeptember ankam. Zuerst fragte ich nach dem portugiesischen Kapit\u00e4n,\nder mich so liebevoll aufgenommen und mir mit seinem wohlmeinenden\nRate so treu zur Seite gestanden hatte. Er war jetzt hochbetagt und\nging nicht mehr zur See; er hatte an seinen Sohn die F\u00fchrung des\nSchiffes sowie seiner Handelsgesch\u00e4fte nach Brasilien abgetreten.\nWir erkannten einander kaum wieder, aber schon nach einer kurzen\nAuseinandersetzung begr\u00fc\u00dften wir uns herzlich als alte Freunde. Ich\nmu\u00dfte ihm meine wunderbaren Schicksale erz\u00e4hlen, und als ich damit\nzu Ende war, erkundigte ich mich nach dem Stande meiner brasilischen\nPflanzung und nach meinem Mitpflanzer. Der Greis berichtete mir,\ner habe seit neun Jahren Brasilien nicht besucht; damals sei mein\nHandelsgesellschafter noch am Leben gewesen, die beiden von mir\nernannten Faktoren w\u00e4ren aber gestorben. Indessen glaubte er, da\u00df man\n\u00fcber das Gedeihen meiner Pflanzung g\u00fcnstige Berichte erhalten werde,\ndenn nach der allgemeinen Annahme, da\u00df ich in einem Schiffbruche\nuntergegangen sei, h\u00e4tten meine beiden Faktoren meine Rechte auf die\nPflanzung dem Staatsprokurator \u00fcbergeben; es sei bestimmt worden, da\u00df,\nim Fall ich nicht wiederkehre, um mein Eigentum in Anspruch zu nehmen,\nein Drittel dem k\u00f6niglichen Schatze und zwei Drittel dem Kloster des\nheiligen Augustin zufallen sollten, um zur Unterst\u00fctzung der Armen\nund zur Bekehrung der Indianer zur katholischen Religion verwendet\nzu werden. K\u00e4me ich aber selbst oder ein von mir Bevollm\u00e4chtigter,\num die R\u00fcckgabe meines Verm\u00f6gens zu verlangen, so w\u00fcrde es mir nicht\nvorenthalten werden, mit Ausnahme dessen, was zu mildth\u00e4tigen Zwecken\nverwendet worden w\u00e4re.\nWeiterhin wurde mir versichert, da\u00df der Intendant der k\u00f6niglichen\nEink\u00fcnfte und der Schatzmeister des Klosters j\u00e4hrlich eine Rechnung von\ndem Ertrage empfangen und davon die mir rechtlich zukommende H\u00e4lfte\nregelm\u00e4\u00dfig bezogen h\u00e4tten.\nAls ich den Greis fragte, ob mir die Geltendmachung meiner Anspr\u00fcche\nauf die Pflanzung etwas n\u00fctzen w\u00fcrde, erwiderte er:\n\u00bbJa, sicherlich wird es sich der M\u00fche lohnen. Ihr Gesellschafter ist\nein reicher Mann geworden, und wenn mich mein Ged\u00e4chtnis nicht t\u00e4uscht,\nso bel\u00e4uft sich das auf den K\u00f6nig gefallene Drittel j\u00e4hrlich \u00fcber 200\nMoedore (= 4800 Mark). Auch wird es keine Schwierigkeiten verursachen,\nden Besitz Ihrer Pflanzung wieder anzutreten, da Ihr Gesellschafter\nnoch am Leben, also Zeuge Ihres Eigentumsrechtes ist, und Ihr Name\n\u00fcberdies noch immer in den Verzeichnissen der Pflanzer eingetragen\nsteht. Auch die Erben Ihrer Faktoren sind brave und redliche Leute,\nund ich zweifle nicht, da\u00df sie Ihnen bei Ihrem Vorhaben f\u00f6rderlich zur\nSeite stehen werden. Au\u00dferdem aber m\u00fcssen sie, wenn ich nicht ganz\nirre, auch eine bedeutende Geldsumme f\u00fcr Sie in H\u00e4nden haben, die aus\nden Eink\u00fcnften der Pflanzung herr\u00fchrt, welche ihre Eltern zu jener Zeit\nbezogen, ehe sie vor ungef\u00e4hr zw\u00f6lf Jahren dem K\u00f6nig und dem Kloster\ndieselben \u00fcberlassen mu\u00dften.\u00ab\nIch vermochte nicht, meinen Unwillen dar\u00fcber zu unterdr\u00fccken, da\u00df\nmeine Faktoren so eigenm\u00e4chtig \u00fcber mein Verm\u00f6gen verf\u00fcgt hatten,\nda ihnen doch wohl bewu\u00dft war, da\u00df ich *ihn* -- den Kapit\u00e4n -- zum\nUniversalerben in meinem Testament eingesetzt hatte.\nDer alte Mann erwiderte, da\u00df er meinen letzten Willen nicht habe\nvollziehen k\u00f6nnen, weil er keine Beweise f\u00fcr meinen Tod oder eine ewige\nVerschollenheit gehabt h\u00e4tte. \u00bbAber\u00ab, f\u00fcgte er hinzu, \u00bbich habe Ihnen\nnoch etwas zu sagen, was Ihnen vielleicht minder unangenehm sein wird.\nAuf die allgemein geglaubte Nachricht von Ihrem Tode erboten sich Ihr\nGesellschafter und Ihre Faktoren, mich durch die Eink\u00fcnfte der ersten\nsechs Jahre abzufinden, worauf ich auch eingegangen bin. Dieselben\nwaren aber nicht bedeutend, weil damals auf die Pflanzung selbst noch\ngro\u00dfe Summen verwendet wurden. Indessen werde ich Ihnen hier\u00fcber noch\ngenaue Rechnung vorlegen.\u00ab\nNach einigen Tagen empfing ich von dem alten Kapit\u00e4n wirklich die\nRechnung, und es stellte sich heraus, da\u00df er mir 470 Moedore schuldete,\ndie er in Tabak, Zucker, Rum und andern Produkten empfangen hatte,\nau\u00dfer 15 Doppelrollen Tabak und 60 Kisten Zucker, die in einem\nSchiffbruch verloren gegangen waren. Hierauf holte er eine lederne\nB\u00f6rse, nahm daraus 160 Moedore und h\u00e4ndigte mir dieselben mit der\nBemerkung ein, da\u00df ihn viele Ungl\u00fccksf\u00e4lle betroffen h\u00e4tten, wodurch\ner sich jetzt au\u00dfer stande s\u00e4he, mir die ganze Rechnung auszuzahlen.\nF\u00fcr den Rest bot er mir einen Vertrag an wegen der H\u00e4lfte des Anteils,\nden er und sein Sohn an der Fracht eines Schiffes h\u00e4tten, welches von\ndiesem gef\u00fchrt und in kurzem ankommen w\u00fcrde.\nDie Rechtschaffenheit des braven Greises r\u00fchrte mich bis zu Thr\u00e4nen,\nbesonders als ich an die vielen Wohlthaten dachte, die er mir einst\nerwiesen hatte. \u00bbJetzt aber, teurer Kapit\u00e4n\u00ab, drang ich in ihn, \u00bbsagen\nSie mir unumwunden, ob Sie die Entbehrung dieser Summe irgendwie in\nVerlegenheit setzt?\u00ab\n\u00bbIch leugne nicht, mein lieber Freund\u00ab, entgegnete der Greis, \u00bbda\u00df\nes mir einigerma\u00dfen unbequem f\u00e4llt, aber es ist *Ihr* Geld, und Sie\nbed\u00fcrfen desselben vielleicht noch n\u00f6tiger als ich.\u00ab\nDer Mann fl\u00f6\u00dfte mir immer mehr Achtung und Teilnahme ein. Ich nahm 100\nMoedore und stellte ihm dar\u00fcber eine Quittung aus, dann gab ich ihm\n60 Moedore und seine Papiere mit der Bemerkung zur\u00fcck, da\u00df ich von\neinem solchen Ehrenmanne, wie er sei, keine weitere Sicherheit n\u00f6tig\nh\u00e4tte. Der alte Kapit\u00e4n freute sich \u00fcber meine Erkenntlichkeit und gab\nmir dann in betreff meiner brasilischen Reise manche beherzigenswerte\nWinke, die meiner allezeit raschen Wanderlust Z\u00fcgel und Zaum anlegten.\nIn n\u00e4chster Zeit gingen zwei Schiffe nach Brasilien ab, und mit diesen\nwurden meine beglaubigten Papiere und Dokumente an den Ort ihrer\nBestimmung bef\u00f6rdert. Noch waren nicht sieben ganze Monate verflossen,\nals von den Erben meiner Faktoren ein P\u00e4ckchen einlief mit den\nfolgenden Papieren:\n  1. Eine Rechnung vom Ertrage meiner Pflanzung w\u00e4hrend der ersten\n     sechs Jahre, nach abgeschlossener Rechnung mit dem Kapit\u00e4n, laut\n     welcher mir zu gute kamen,\n  2. Eine Rechnung vom Ertrage derjenigen Jahre, welche der\n     obrigkeitlichen Verwaltung meiner Eink\u00fcnfte vorhergingen\n  3. Eine Rechnung vom Prior des Klosters, welches \u00fcber vierzehn Jahre\n     zwei Drittel meiner Eink\u00fcnfte bezogen hatte, noch vorhanden\nWas der Prior f\u00fcr mildth\u00e4tige Zwecke verausgabt hatte, konnte ich nicht\nzur\u00fcckverlangen, und \u00fcber das Drittel, welches der Prokurator f\u00fcr des\nK\u00f6nigs S\u00e4ckel bezogen hatte, erhielt ich weder Rechnung noch Geld.\nIn jenem P\u00e4ckchen lagen au\u00dferdem noch Briefe von meinem ehemaligen\nGesellschafter und seiner Familie, welche s\u00e4mtlich die aufrichtigsten\nGl\u00fcckw\u00fcnsche enthielten, ferner ein umst\u00e4ndlicher Bericht \u00fcber den\ngegenw\u00e4rtigen bl\u00fchenden Zustand der Plantage und eine Einladung, selbst\nden Besitz meiner L\u00e4ndereien anzutreten. Au\u00dferdem war dem Briefe noch\nbeigef\u00fcgt ein Geschenk von sechs Kistchen eingemachter Fr\u00fcchte, von\n100 St\u00fcckchen ungem\u00fcnzten Goldes, etwas kleiner als die Moedore, und\nsechs pr\u00e4chtigen Leopardenfellen, die mich auf den Schlu\u00df brachten, da\u00df\nmeine Nachfolger Schiffe nach Afrika ausger\u00fcstet hatten und mehr vom\nSchicksale beg\u00fcnstigt waren als ich bei meiner Fahrt nach Guinea.\nAber das war noch nicht alles, denn fast gleichzeitig erhielt ich von\nden Erben meiner Faktoren eine zweite Sendung, die mir als Zahlung der\nschuldigen 4415 Moedore, 1200 Zuckerkisten, 800 Tabaksrollen und den\nRest in Gold zuf\u00fchrte.\nDas war zu viel auf einmal! Fast erlag ich dem Drucke, welchen das\n\u00dcberma\u00df der Freude auf mich kurz vorher noch so armseligen Sterblichen\naus\u00fcbte. Jetzt war ich mit einem Schlage ein reicher Mann, der \u00fcber\nBesitzungen in zwei Weltteilen zu verf\u00fcgen hatte. Da durfte ich denn\nmeinen alten wackeren Kapit\u00e4n nicht vergessen. Sofort zahlte ich\nihm seine 100 Moedore zur\u00fcck, quittierte \u00fcber den Empfang der noch\nr\u00fcckst\u00e4ndigen 370 und setzte ihm eine j\u00e4hrliche Rente von 100 und nach\nseinem Ableben seinem Sohne eine solche von 50 Moedoren aus. Au\u00dferdem\nbetraute ich ihn mit der Vollmacht, meine Eink\u00fcnfte in Brasilien zu\nbeziehen und mir zu \u00fcbermitteln.\nMit dem n\u00e4chsten nach Brasilien gehenden Schiffe sandte ich ein\nAntwortschreiben zur\u00fcck, in welchem ich meinen Dank aussprach f\u00fcr die\nwohlgemeinten Gl\u00fcckw\u00fcnsche und zugleich die Absicht mitteilte, bald\nnach Brasilien \u00fcberzusiedeln und dort vielleicht meine Tage in Ruhe\nzu beschlie\u00dfen. Als Gegengeschenk f\u00fcgte ich feine englische T\u00fccher,\nseidene Stoffe aus Italien, Spitzen aus Brabant und andres dergleichen\nbei. Dem Prior aber gab ich meine Entschlie\u00dfung kund, 500 Moedore\nseinem Kloster und die \u00fcbrigen 372 den Armen zu vermachen.\nSo waren meine s\u00fcdamerikanischen Angelegenheiten in Ordnung gebracht.\nWenn ich dasselbe nur auch schon von den europ\u00e4ischen h\u00e4tte sagen\nk\u00f6nnen; denn hier stie\u00df ich auf gar mannigfache Verlegenheiten.\nZuv\u00f6rderst mu\u00dfte ich darauf bedacht sein, meine Kapitalien sicheren\nH\u00e4nden zu \u00fcbergeben, und es blieb mir nichts andres \u00fcbrig, als selbst\nnach England zur\u00fcckzukehren.\nMein alter Freund, der Seemann, riet mir, \u00fcber Madrid und Paris nach\nCalais zu reisen und von da nach Dover \u00fcberzusetzen. Damit ich aber\nauch Reisegesellschaft h\u00e4tte, so machte er mich mit dem Sohne eines\nenglischen, in Lissabon ans\u00e4ssigen Kaufmanns bekannt, der mich zu\nbegleiten w\u00fcnschte. Au\u00dferdem schlossen sich noch zwei andre Kaufleute\naus England sowie zwei Portugiesen an, so da\u00df wir im ganzen sechs\nHerren nebst f\u00fcnf Dienern waren, aber wohlberitten und bewaffnet. Meine\nReisegef\u00e4hrten beliebten, mir den Titel \u00bbKapit\u00e4n\u00ab zu geben, einmal,\nweil ich der \u00c4lteste von ihnen war, dann auch, weil ich *zwei* Diener\nhatte.\nWir verweilten einige Zeit in *Madrid*, um den Hof und die \u00fcbrigen\nMerkw\u00fcrdigkeiten der spanischen Residenz zu besehen, und gegen\nMitte Oktober r\u00fcckten wir weiter, um bei der schon vorgeschrittenen\nJahreszeit die Pyren\u00e4en m\u00f6glichst bald im R\u00fccken zu haben. In Pamplona\nberichteten uns die Leute, da\u00df auf dem Nordabhange des Gebirges bereits\nMassen von Schnee l\u00e4gen, die ein Durchkommen schlechterdings unm\u00f6glich\nmachten. Die K\u00e4lte war in der That empfindlich, zumal wenn man, wie\nich, viele Jahre lang unter der tropischen Sonne gelebt und erst seit\nzehn Tagen den blauen Himmel des hei\u00dfen Kastilien verlassen hatte. Dem\narmen Freitag spielte die K\u00e4lte noch weit mehr mit -- der Sohn Amerikas\nsah hier zum erstenmal die Natur in ihrem rauhen Winterkleide!\nIch machte meinen Reisegef\u00e4hrten den Vorschlag, nach Fuentarabia\naufzubrechen, uns daselbst einzuschiffen und nach Bordeaux zu fahren.\nW\u00e4hrend wir uns noch dar\u00fcber berieten, trafen vier Franzosen in unserm\nGasthof ein, deren Reise sowohl auf franz\u00f6sischer wie auf spanischer\nSeite Aufschub erfahren und welche die Reise \u00fcber das Gebirge unter\nLeitung eines kundigen F\u00fchrers gemacht hatten. Wir lie\u00dfen den Mann auf\nder Stelle holen, und er versprach, uns auf den n\u00e4mlichen Wegen nach\nFrankreich hin\u00fcber zu geleiten. Vom Schnee sei nichts zu bef\u00fcrchten,\nsagte er, aber vor den W\u00f6lfen, die wegen der gro\u00dfen K\u00e4lte zu ganzen\nTrupps ausgehungert umherschw\u00e4rmten, k\u00f6nne man nicht genug auf der Hut\nsein. Wir entgegneten ihm, da\u00df wir hinl\u00e4nglich mit Waffen versehen\nseien, um solch einen Trupp nach Geb\u00fchr zu empfangen. Wegen des\nF\u00fchrergeldes wurden wir mit dem Manne schnell handelseinig, und so\nbrachen wir, nachdem sich uns noch zw\u00f6lf Reisende mit ihrer Bedienung\nangeschlossen, am 15. November 1687 von Pamplona auf.\nWir waren nicht wenig verwundert, als uns der F\u00fchrer wohl an zehn\nStunden weit auf der Stra\u00dfe nach Madrid r\u00fcckw\u00e4rts f\u00fchrte, wo wir uns\nin einem angenehm warmen Klima und in sch\u00f6ner, schneeloser Landschaft\nbefanden. Dann aber wandte er sich links gegen den Gebirgszug und\nf\u00fchrte uns, an tausend schauerlich g\u00e4hnenden Abgr\u00fcnden vorbei, bis auf\ndie H\u00f6he des Gebirges, von wo uns die gr\u00fcnen, lachenden Gefilde von\nLanguedoc und der Gascogne entgegenblinkten. Bis dorthin war freilich\nnoch mehr als *ein* m\u00fchevoller Schritt zu machen, wenngleich man das\nSchlimmste \u00fcberstanden zu haben glaubte.\nEines Nachmittags wurde aber der F\u00fchrer, als er uns vorausritt, von\nzwei W\u00f6lfen und einem B\u00e4ren angegriffen. Der best\u00fcrzte Mann verlor so\nsehr alle Besinnung, da\u00df er, statt sein Pistol abzufeuern, nur aus\nLeibeskr\u00e4ften schrie. Schnell gebot ich Freitag, hinzureiten, und er\nzerschmetterte durch einen sicheren Pistolenschu\u00df den Kopf des einen\nWolfes. Der andre, welcher sich hei\u00dfhungrig auf das Pferd gest\u00fcrzt\nhatte, entfloh, von dem Knalle erschreckt, ins Geh\u00f6lz; Freund Petz aber\nlie\u00df sich dadurch nicht irre machen, sondern blieb ruhig stehen. Der\narme F\u00fchrer hatte zwei empfindliche Wunden, eine in den rechten Arm,\ndie andre in den Schenkel erhalten; aber das Pferd war unverletzt\ngeblieben, da die Z\u00e4hne des Wolfes nur die Riemen des Zaums gepackt\nhatten.\nMan kann sich wohl denken, da\u00df wir auf den Knall der Pistole, der wie\ndumpf grollender Donner sich durch die Gebirgsth\u00e4ler fortpflanzte,\nunsern Pferden die Sporen in die Weichen dr\u00fcckten, um mit m\u00f6glichster\nSchnelligkeit auf den Platz des Abenteuers zu gelangen. W\u00e4hrend wir den\nF\u00fchrer durch einen Schluck Branntwein zu st\u00e4rken suchten und an seine\nWunden Verb\u00e4nde anlegten, gewahrten einige zu ihrem nicht geringen\nEntsetzen, wie der B\u00e4r, ein Bursche von respektabler Gr\u00f6\u00dfe, Miene\nmachte, sich zu n\u00e4hern, statt sich zu entfernen.\nSchon wollten etliche Herren auf ihn anlegen, da bat mich Freitag:\n\u00bbO Herr, erlaube mir, da\u00df ich dem Tiere die Hand reiche, es wird euch\nallen viel zu lachen geben!\u00ab\n\u00bbSei kein Thor, Freitag\u00ab, sagte ich zu ihm; \u00bbder Bursche dort l\u00e4\u00dft\nnicht mit sich spa\u00dfen. Er wird dich mit Haut und Haar verschlingen.\u00ab\n\u00bbWas? Er mich essen?\u00ab triumphierte Freitag. \u00bbDaf\u00fcr werde ich mich\nsehr bedanken -- ich werde *ihn* essen; gebt acht, es wird viel Spa\u00df\nabsetzen.\u00ab\nDie Reisegesellschaft gab seiner Laune nach und wartete der Dinge, die\nda kommen sollten. Freitag zog im Nu seine Stiefel und Str\u00fcmpfe aus,\nzog statt deren ein Paar Schuhe an, \u00fcbergab sein Pferd einem Bedienten,\nnahm ein Gewehr und eilte gerade auf den B\u00e4ren los.\n\u00bbH\u00f6re, h\u00f6re, guter Freund\u00ab, wandte sich Freitag an Meister Petz,\n\u00bbich m\u00f6chte mit dir ein bi\u00dfchen plaudern.\u00ab Aber der B\u00e4r schien keine\nbesondere Neigung zu haben, sich in ein Gespr\u00e4ch einzulassen. Da die\nfreundliche Ansprache unerwidert blieb, versuchte Freitag auf andre\nArt, dem Vierbeinigen Aufmerksamkeit einzufl\u00f6\u00dfen. Er hob einen gro\u00dfen\nStein auf und warf ihn dem Tiere an den Kopf. Doch ob er den B\u00e4ren\noder eine alte Mauer getroffen h\u00e4tte, war ganz gleich: sein Gegen\u00fcber\nverharrte in bewundernsw\u00fcrdigem Gleichmut. Dieser kecke \u00dcbermut\nFreitags machte einige der Reisenden besorgt, und schon schickten sie\nsich an, auf das Fell des B\u00e4ren eine nachdr\u00fcckliche Ladung zu geben.\nAber Freitag, der die Eigenart des Tieres studiert zu haben schien,\nwinkte abwehrend gegen die Schu\u00dffertigen. Dann wandte er sich seitw\u00e4rts\nund schwang sich auf den Stamm einer Eiche, an deren Fu\u00dfe er sein\nGewehr anlehnte. Der B\u00e4r, immer w\u00fctender geworden, folgte knurrend\nhinterdrein.\nIch konnte bis jetzt in der ganzen Posse noch nichts \u00bbzum Lachen\u00ab\nfinden, im Gegenteil, mir war ganz unheimlich zu Mute, als ich meinen\nGetreuen sich bis an das \u00e4u\u00dferste Ende des Astes zur\u00fcckziehen und den\nB\u00e4ren ihm auf dem Fu\u00dfe folgen sah.\n\u00bbJetzt, meine Herren\u00ab, rief Freitag in heiterer Stimmung, \u00bbjetzt werden\nSie sehen: der Tanz beginnt!\u00ab\nBei diesen Worten sprang er und sch\u00fcttelte den Ast so kr\u00e4ftig, da\u00df\ndiese schaukelnde Bewegung dem B\u00e4ren unbehaglich wurde und er sich\nbedachtsam zur\u00fcckzog. Freitag aber lie\u00df ihn nicht so leichten Kaufes\nfrei, sondern rief ihm zu: \u00bbWas kommst du nicht n\u00e4her, Freund? Immer\nkomm her!\u00ab Und wirklich that das Tier einige Schritte vorw\u00e4rts. Jetzt\nneues kr\u00e4ftiges Sch\u00fctteln und Schaukeln -- neuer R\u00fcckzug; kurz, das\nSpiel dauerte eine Zeitlang in dieser Weise fort, und wir mu\u00dften \u00fcber\ndie drolligen Geb\u00e4rden des B\u00e4ren herzlich lachen.\nDoch Abend und Dunkelheit brachen herein, und ich rief Freitag zu, dem\nPossenspiel ein Ende zu machen; denn wir alle wu\u00dften nicht, wie der\nScherz ausgehen w\u00fcrde.\nFreitag zog sich sogleich an das \u00e4u\u00dferste Ende des Astes zur\u00fcck, hielt\nsich mit gr\u00f6\u00dfter Geschicklichkeit mit beiden H\u00e4nden daran fest und\nsprang dann leichten Fu\u00dfes auf den Boden.\nHierauf ergriff er sein Gewehr und blieb bewegungslos stehen. Als der\nB\u00e4r seinen Feind unten sah, ward es ihm auf dem Baume zu einsam, und er\nwollte gleichfalls herabsteigen. Doch that er es mit einer merkw\u00fcrdigen\nVorsicht, sah sich bei jedem Schritte um und kletterte endlich langsam\nund bed\u00e4chtig am Stamme herunter. Kaum aber ber\u00fchrte er mit seinen\nTatzen den Boden, so legte ihm Freitag seine Flinte ans Ohr und\nstreckte ihn tot nieder. Dann drehte sich der Schelm lachend uns zu, um\nin unsern Mienen den wohlverdienten Beifall zu lesen, und sagte nicht\nohne einen Zug selbstgef\u00e4lligen Stolzes:\n\u00bbSo t\u00f6ten wir daheim, in Amerika, die B\u00e4ren!\u00ab\n\u00bbAber wie ist denn das m\u00f6glich, Freitag\u00ab, warf ich ihm ein, \u00bbihr habt\nja keine Flinten?\u00ab\n\u00bbNein, meine Br\u00fcder haben keine Flinten, aber ihre langen Pfeile\ntreffen ebenso sicher.\u00ab\nGern h\u00e4tte Freitag dem erlegten Gegner das Fell abgezogen, aber\nwir durften uns bei der zunehmenden Dunkelheit nicht unn\u00fctzerweise\nl\u00e4nger verweilen, zumal in unsre Ohren ein entsetzliches Geheul der\nherumlungernden W\u00f6lfe drang. Schon im ersten Geh\u00f6lze lief etwa ein\nhalbes Dutzend dieser Tiere \u00fcber den Weg, welche aber gar keine Notiz\nvon uns zu nehmen schienen. Als wir gegen die Ebene zuschritten,\nerblickten wir ein ganzes Rudel, welche an den Knochen eines Pferdes\nnagten; bald schon vernahmen wir aus dem nahen Geh\u00f6lze f\u00fcrchterliches\nGeheul und sahen gleich darauf eine gro\u00dfe Schar einem seines Reiters\nledig gewordenen Pferde nachrennen.\nDies erforderte rasches Handeln. Wir trennten uns in zwei geschlossene\nTrupps und feuerten abwechselnd; gleich bei den ersten Sch\u00fcssen\nst\u00fcrzten vier der Bestien, mehrere andre wurden verwundet und\nr\u00f6teten den Boden mit ihrem Blute. Wir selbst stimmten nun ein\nohrenzerrei\u00dfendes Geheul an, und zwar so wirkungsvoll, da\u00df es sogar den\nW\u00f6lfen zu arg wurde und diese sich zur\u00fcckzogen. Mittlerweile luden wir\nrasch unsre Gewehre und setzten unsern Weg weiter fort.\n[Illustration: Robinson von W\u00f6lfen \u00fcberfallen.]\nUnser F\u00fchrer befand sich am folgenden Morgen so schwach, da\u00df er uns\nnicht weiter begleiten konnte; wir bezahlten ihn anst\u00e4ndig, mieteten\neinen Ersatzmann und zogen nach *Toulouse*, wo wir weder Schnee noch\nW\u00f6lfe, sondern eine liebliche warme Sonne und fruchtbare bl\u00fchende\nGefilde trafen. Als die Leute dort unser bestandenes Reiseabenteuer\nvernahmen, fanden sie es unbegreiflich, wie unser F\u00fchrer so k\u00fchn sein\nkonnte, uns in dieser Jahreszeit \u00fcber das Gebirge zu f\u00fchren, noch\ndazu mit so vielen Pferden, welche die Gier der W\u00f6lfe aufs h\u00f6chste\nstacheln. Alle stimmten darin \u00fcberein, da\u00df wir nur wie durch ein Wunder\ndem Tode entgangen seien. Denn bereits sei ein Reisender vor uns den\nHei\u00dfhungrigen zum Opfer gefallen -- wohl der Besitzer jenes leeren, von\nden W\u00f6lfen verfolgten Pferdes.\nVon Toulouse ging die Reise ohne Aufschub weiter nach *Paris*, von\nda nach *Calais*, wo wir nach *Dover* \u00fcbersetzten. Nach kurzer Rast\nlie\u00df ich mich noch an demselben Tage mit Freitag f\u00fcr den Postwagen\neinschreiben und langte den Tag darauf in London an.\nMein erster Besuch galt der guten alten Witwe, welche die Erz\u00e4hlung von\ndem gl\u00fccklichen Wechsel meines Schicksals unter Freudenthr\u00e4nen anh\u00f6rte.\nIch setzte ihr eine lebensl\u00e4ngliche Rente von j\u00e4hrlich 100 Pfund\nSterling aus und quittierte \u00fcber die Summe, die sie mir noch schuldete.\nDann bat ich sie, meinem Hauswesen vorzustehen, worein sie gern\nwilligte, und nach wenigen Tagen bezogen wir eine ger\u00e4umige, behagliche\nWohnung. Mein Verm\u00f6gen war bar in meinen H\u00e4nden, denn die Wechsel,\ndie ich mitbrachte, wurden ohne Schwierigkeit eingel\u00f6st. Auch meine\nSchwestern verga\u00df ich nicht: ich sandte einer jeden 100 Pfund Sterling\nund f\u00fcgte das Versprechen hinzu, ihnen diese Summe lebensl\u00e4nglich als\neine j\u00e4hrliche Pension zu sichern. Meine beiden Neffen nahm ich zu mir,\nund da der \u00e4lteste etwas eignes Verm\u00f6gen besa\u00df, so erzog ich ihn wie\neinen Mann von Stande und sorgte, da\u00df er diesen Rang behaupten konnte.\nDer zweite hatte Neigung zur Seefahrt; ich billigte nat\u00fcrlich diese\nNeigung und \u00fcbergab ihn deshalb der Obhut eines angesehenen, t\u00fcchtigen\nSchiffskapit\u00e4ns, der ihn auf weiten Reisen, besonders nach Westindien,\nzu einem wohlunterrichteten, taktfesten Seemann ausbildete.\nW\u00e4hrend der ersten Zeit meines Aufenthalts in London dachte ich oft\nan meine brasilische Pflanzung und an das Versprechen, dieselbe zu\nbesuchen. Allein die Gesellschaft, die ich dort vorgefunden haben\nw\u00fcrde, und die ganze Lebensart \u00fcberhaupt behagten mir so wenig mehr,\nda\u00df ich mich lieber entschlo\u00df, die Pflanzung zu verkaufen. Ich schrieb\ndeshalb an meinen alten Freund in Lissabon und bat ihn um seinen\nBeistand in dieser Angelegenheit. Seine Antwort lautete dahin, er\nhalte es f\u00fcr das vorteilhafteste, den Erben meiner ehemaligen Faktoren\nden Kaufantrag zu machen. Die Unterhandlungen folgten rasch, und\nnach dreiviertel Jahren gingen in Lissabon die Anweisungen auf 33000\nMoedore (825000 Mark) ein. Dem Kapit\u00e4n gab ich den Auftrag, das Kapital\nder ihm zugesicherten Rente f\u00fcr sich selber zu behalten und mir den\nRest des Geldes zu \u00fcbersenden, was auch in sehr kurzer Zeit in guten\nWechseln geschah. Nachdem ich auch diese betr\u00e4chtliche Summe sicher\nangelegt hatte, konnte ich sorgenfrei in London leben. Um nicht allein\nin der Welt dazustehen, verheiratete ich mich mit einer Dame, deren\nLiebensw\u00fcrdigkeit und wirtschaftlicher Sinn mir das h\u00e4usliche Leben so\nangenehm machten, da\u00df ich mich in meinen vier Pf\u00e4hlen recht behaglich\nf\u00fchlte.\nIm Hafen einer sicheren und Ruhe verhei\u00dfenden Existenz war ich nun\nnach mancherlei St\u00fcrmen mit dem 56. Jahre meines Lebens eingelaufen.\nEs schlie\u00dft hiermit der erste Hauptabschnitt einer abenteuerlichen\nLaufbahn, welche die g\u00fctige Vorsehung mit einer seltenen\nMannigfaltigkeit menschlicher Schicksale ausgestattet hatte, eine\nLaufbahn, die zwar th\u00f6richt begonnen, doch bei weitem befriedigender\nverlaufen sollte, als ich irgend hoffen durfte. Da\u00df ich nach einigen\nJahren nochmals aus der gewonnenen Ruhe und aus dem friedlichen Behagen\nheraustreten und einen weiteren Teil der Welt durchwandern sollte,\nh\u00e4tte ich damals selbst nicht geglaubt.\n[Illustration: Mitten im Eise.]\nF\u00fcnfzehntes Kapitel.\nAufenthalt in England und neue Reise.\n  Neue Reiselust. -- Abfahrt. -- Das Totenschiff. -- Im Antillenmeer.\n  -- Der B\u00fcffelj\u00e4ger. -- Ankunft in der Kolonie.\nMein Gl\u00fcck schien nach einem 35j\u00e4hrigen Kampfe gegen die Wechself\u00e4lle\ndes Lebens fest begr\u00fcndet, und ich w\u00fcrde sorglos in beschaulicher\nZur\u00fcckgezogenheit haben leben k\u00f6nnen, wenn ich nicht immer und immer\nwieder an meine Insel und die zur\u00fcckgelassene Kolonie h\u00e4tte denken\nm\u00fcssen. Verglich ich mein fr\u00fcheres rastloses Wirken mit meiner jetzigen\nUnth\u00e4tigkeit, dann ergriff mich Unmut, und die Welt, in der ich thatlos\ndahinlebte, wurde mir zu enge. Mich zog wieder eine heftige Sehnsucht\nhinaus \u00fcber den weiten Ozean, nach fernen L\u00e4ndern.\nUm diesen Anwandlungen neuer Reiselust zu widerstehen, kaufte ich\nmir in Bedfordshire ein Landgut, dessen sch\u00f6ner Meierhof so weit von\nder See ablag, da\u00df mich der Blick auf dieselbe oder der Umgang mit\nSeeleuten nicht aufregen konnte. Ich richtete mich behaglich ein,\nkaufte Ger\u00e4te und Vieh zur Ackerwirtschaft, pflanzte, j\u00e4tete, ri\u00df ein\nund baute wieder auf, um meinen Gedanken eine andre Richtung zu geben.\nAber wie mein eigner Schatten verfolgte mich die Sehnsucht nach der\nFerne. Einige Jahre hielt ich es aus, als mir aber meine Frau durch den\nTod entrissen wurde, fand ich keinen Gefallen mehr an dem bisherigen\nStillleben. Zwei Kinder, die mir geschenkt waren, hatte ich guten\nH\u00e4nden anvertraut. Die landwirtschaftlichen Besch\u00e4ftigungen langweilten\nmich mehr und mehr, und ich beschlo\u00df, mein Gut zu verkaufen und nach\nLondon zu ziehen. Anfangs behagte mir die Ver\u00e4nderung, die Zerstreuung\nin der Hauptstadt, aber bald fand ich den L\u00e4rm derselben und noch mehr\ndas Nichtsthun unertr\u00e4glich und ich sann auf Ver\u00e4nderung.\nAls ich einstmals in tiefes Nachsinnen \u00fcber Zukunftspl\u00e4ne versunken auf\ndem Lehnstuhle sa\u00df, besuchte mich mein Neffe, der als Schiffskapit\u00e4n\nS\u00fcdamerika kennen gelernt hatte und nun dorthin \u00fcber Neufundland\nzur\u00fcckkehren wollte. Er lud mich ein, ihn zu begleiten, ich sagte zu\nund -- machte mich dann reisefertig.\nNachdem ich zuvor mein Verm\u00f6gen sicher angelegt, die Wahrnehmung\nmeiner Angelegenheiten und die Aufsicht \u00fcber die Erziehung meiner\nKinder meiner Haush\u00e4lterin, der treu bew\u00e4hrten alten Witwe, anvertraut\nhatte, begab ich mich am 8. Januar des Jahres 1694 mit meinem Freitag\nan Bord der kleinen Fregatte, die in den D\u00fcnen vor Anker lag. Noch an\ndemselben Abend gingen wir unter Segel. Die Ladung, die ich mit mir\nf\u00fchrte, war wertvoller und mannigfacher als je eine der fr\u00fcheren. Sie\nenthielt ein zerlegtes Fahrzeug, allerlei Tuchsorten, leinene und andre\nStoffe; ferner H\u00fcte, Schuhe, Str\u00fcmpfe, Bettzeug, T\u00f6pfe, Kessel, N\u00e4gel,\nWerkzeuge; endlich zahlreiche Flinten, Pistolen und zwei metallene\nKanonen; hierzu Pulver, Kugeln und Schrot in allen Sorten, weiterhin\nandre Waffen, wie S\u00e4bel, Degen und Lanzen. Hierdurch glaubte ich f\u00fcr\nden Verteidigungszustand der Inselfestung hinreichend gesorgt zu haben.\nEin frischer Wind f\u00fchrte uns aus dem Hafen, und bald befanden wir\nuns auf offener See; ringsum nur Himmel und Wasser. Nach etwa acht\nTagen erhob sich ein m\u00e4chtiger S\u00fcdsturm und trieb uns tief in das\nnebelbedeckte Meer von Neufundland. Anfangs gefiel mir dieser Wechsel,\naber bald wurde die Sache doch unangenehm. Ein eisiger Wind blies \u00fcber\ndas Schiff und drang tief in die Glieder. Die Wellen, welche Schaum\nspritzend an die Schiffsw\u00e4nde schlugen und uns durchn\u00e4\u00dften, gefroren,\nund so wurden unsre Kleider mit einer Eisrinde bedeckt, die Segel steif\nund unlenksam, das Takelwerk starr wie Stangen. Dabei herrschte wegen\ndes dicken Nebels stete D\u00e4mmerung um uns, so da\u00df der Steuermann den\nSchiffsschnabel kaum noch sehen konnte und wir in Gefahr gerieten, an\neinen schwimmenden Eisberg oder eine Eisscholle anzurennen. In der\nThat huschten von Zeit zu Zeit graue Schatten wie Gespenster an uns\nvorbei, auf welche die Matrosen mit sorglichen Blicken schauten, da\nsie in ihnen Eisberge erkannten. Endlich verwandelte sich die feuchte\nLuft in Eiskristalle, es begann ein Schneewehen, welches bald zu wildem\nSchneegest\u00f6ber wurde. Doch dauerte es nicht an, der Horizont hellte\nsich etwas auf, so da\u00df wir etwa einen halben Kanonenschu\u00df weit sehen\nkonnten.\nDa rief der wachthabende Matrose: \u00bbSchiff in Sicht!\u00ab Wir eilten aufs\nVerdeck und sahen wirklich ein Schiff gerade auf uns zukommen, denn\nes war windstiller geworden und das kalte Polarwasser str\u00f6mte uns\nentgegen. Wir riefen dem Fahrzeuge zu, rechts auszuweichen. Aber\nniemand lie\u00df sich auf dem fremden Schiffe sehen und h\u00f6ren, dessen\nganzes Aussehen einer Ruine glich. Der Hauptmast war in der Mitte\nabgebrochen, an den Raaen hingen hier und da Segelfetzen, wie etwa an\nder Stange einer alten Regimentsfahne, die oft ins Kart\u00e4tschenfeuer\ngekommen ist. Die andern Masten fehlten, die Schiffsplanken schienen\ngewaltsam in die H\u00f6he gedr\u00fcckt, am Steuer hing ein gro\u00dfer Eisklumpen,\nauf dem Verdeck lag tiefer Schnee, und doch glaubten wir am Mast\neine menschliche Gestalt zu entdecken, die nach uns her\u00fcber sah. Wir\nriefen, schossen eine Kanone ab; alles umsonst. Nichts regte sich auf\ndem Geisterschiffe, das auf uns zukam, als wollte es uns in den Grund\nbohren. Den Matrosen ward unheimlich zu Mute; aber meinen Neffen und\nmich reizte die Neugier, zu erfahren, was es mit diesem Selbstsegler\nf\u00fcr eine Bewandtnis habe. Das Boot wurde langsam niedergelassen und\ndann nach dem r\u00e4tselhaften Schiffe gerudert.\nWir langten bald an, stiegen die Treppe hinauf und betraten das Deck\nnicht ohne einiges Herzklopfen. Dichter Schnee starrte auf dem Deck,\ndoch nirgends stie\u00df man auf menschliche Spuren. Unordentlich lagen\nTaue, Ketten und andre Ger\u00e4tschaften durcheinander, aber allesamt mit\nSchnee und Eiskrusten \u00fcberzogen. Z\u00f6gernd schritten wir nach der Treppe,\num in die Kaj\u00fctte hinabzusteigen. Als wir am Mast vor\u00fcbergingen,\nprallte mein Neffe entsetzt zur\u00fcck. Wir fanden angelehnt an den Mast\neinen Matrosen, mit abgezehrtem Gesicht und verzerrten Z\u00fcgen zur H\u00e4lfte\naus der Schneedecke hervorragend. Beim Hinabsteigen ins Zwischendeck\nwurde uns in dem lautlosen Schiffe noch unheimlicher, denn es trug die\nSpuren wilder Zerst\u00f6rung; es fehlten Balken, Planken, Th\u00fcren und was\nsonst zu einem gut ausger\u00fcsteten Schiffe geh\u00f6rt. Dagegen entdeckten wir\nLeichen in verschiedenen Stellungen, alle geh\u00fcllt in zerfetzte Kleider,\nabgemagert und mumienartig eingetrocknet.\nWir wagten kein Wort zu sprechen in diesem schwimmenden Leichenhause.\nJetzt befanden wir uns vor der Kaj\u00fctte. Mein Neffe \u00f6ffnete die Th\u00fcr,\nblieb jedoch wie festgebannt stehen. Ich sah ihm \u00fcber die Schulter\nund entsetzte mich auch. Denn am Tische sa\u00df ein Mensch in Kleidern\naus Renntierhaut und ein B\u00e4renfell unter den F\u00fc\u00dfen. Eine Pelzm\u00fctze\nbedeckte seinen Kopf, in der Hand hielt er eine Feder und hatte eine\nStellung, als wenn er im Schreiben begriffen sei und dar\u00fcber nachdenke,\nwie er fortfahren solle. Sch\u00fcchtern traten wir n\u00e4her und stellten uns\ndem Schreiber gegen\u00fcber. So etwas Grauenerregendes wie dieses Antlitz\nhatte ich noch nie gesehen. Das Gesicht war abgezehrt, gelb und die\nHaut straff \u00fcber die Knochen gespannt. Graue Augen starrten in mattem\nGlanze nach einem Bilde an der Wand, welches eine Frauensperson mit\neinem Kinde auf dem Arme darstellte. Vor dem Toten lag das Schiffsbuch.\nWir warfen einen Blick hinein und lasen die Worte: \u00bbSeit gestern ganz\nallein; aber es geht auch mit mir zu Ende. W\u00e4re es doch \u00fcberstanden!\nIch f\u00fchle, da\u00df die letzte Stunde -- -- o Karoline, o lieber Eduard, leb\n[Illustration: Das brennende Totenschiff.]\nWir durchsuchten das Schiff, fanden es aber ausgestorben und wie\nausgepl\u00fcndert, daher nahmen wir nur das Schiffsbuch mit, um uns \u00fcber\ndas Schicksal des Schiffes und seiner Bemannung zu unterrichten. \u00bbWei\u00dft\ndu was\u00ab, sagte ich zu meinem Neffen, \u00bbdie Toten wollen begraben sein!\nAber nicht im Meere, sondern auf einem Scheiterhaufen, wozu wir ihr\nSchiff benutzen.\u00ab Mein Neffe dachte nach, nickte beistimmend, und\nin wenig Minuten knisterte die helle Flamme im Schiffe. Rasch und\ninnerlich froh, das unheimliche Fahrzeug wieder verlassen zu k\u00f6nnen,\neilten wir zu unsrer Brigg zur\u00fcck und sahen von dort aus das brennende\nTotenschiff, wie es die Matrosen nannten, davonsegeln, sich weiter und\nweiter entfernen, bis es am Horizonte endlich wie ein Punkt verschwand.\nDas Ganze w\u00fcrde uns wie ein Traum vorgekommen sein, h\u00e4tte uns nicht\ndas Schiffsbuch davon \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df wir den Abschlu\u00df einer wahren\nBegebenheit erlebt h\u00e4tten. Neugierig bl\u00e4tterten wir das Schiffsbuch\ndurch und erfuhren, da\u00df das Totenschiff eigentlich ein Walfischfahrer\nwar, mit Namen \u00bbHemskerk\u00ab, welchen Delfter Reeder in das Gr\u00f6nl\u00e4ndische\nMeer auf die Jagd ausgesandt hatten. Die Unternehmung hatte, den\nAufzeichnungen zufolge, anf\u00e4nglich den gew\u00fcnschten Erfolg gehabt, dann\naber zeigten sich die Wale nur noch selten, und man beschlo\u00df daher,\nweiter nach Norden vorzudringen, um neue Jagdgr\u00fcnde zu entdecken.\nMan kreuzte hin und her; dar\u00fcber verstrichen zehn bis zw\u00f6lf Tage, es\ntrat ein zeitiger Winter ein; die Walfischfahrer mu\u00dften umkehren und\nbefanden sich bald mitten zwischen Eisschollen und Eisbergen. Tag und\nNacht dr\u00f6hnte, krachte und knallte es von zusammensto\u00dfenden, berstenden\nSchollen, und schwankend taumelte das Schiff. Endlich tauchte eine\ngro\u00dfe, m\u00e4chtige Scholle unter, verschwand unter dem Schiffe, hob sich\naber mitsamt demselben, welches nun auf die Seite sank und in dieser\nStellung verblieb.\nDie Seefahrer waren zwischen Eis- und Gletschermassen eingesperrt und\nmu\u00dften sich zu einer \u00dcberwinterung einrichten. Bald trat Mangel ein;\nes ging bereits mit dem \u00d6l und Brennmaterial sehr knapp her. Da es an\nfrischem Fleische fehlte, brachen Krankheiten aus, die Leute wurden\nzaghaft, lungerten traurig und verdrossen umher und erfroren lieber,\nals da\u00df sie sich dem langsameren Hungertode aussetzten.\nMit jeder Woche wurde die Zahl der Gestorbenen gr\u00f6\u00dfer, und die\n\u00dcberlebenden waren so matt, da\u00df sie sich kaum von der Stelle bewegen\nkonnten. Was nur genie\u00dfbar erschien, wurde zu essen versucht: die\nHaut der Pelze, das Leder der Stiefelsch\u00e4fte, sogar S\u00e4gesp\u00e4ne. Nur\ndrei Mann \u00fcberlebten den Winter und das Fr\u00fchjahr. Der Sommer schien\nendlich Erl\u00f6sung zu bringen, denn das Eis teilte sich und das Schiff\ngewann wieder das freie Meer; aber in welchem Zustande! Die Masten\nwaren vom Sturm und beim halben Umst\u00fcrzen zerbrochen, das Steuerruder\nunbrauchbar, die \u00dcberlebenden ohne alle Kr\u00e4fte. Was half da die\nerlangte Freiheit! Jeder trug den Tod bereits in sich und sah ihn\nvoraus.\n\u00bbSo sitze ich denn\u00ab, schlo\u00df der Bericht, \u00bbganz allein in dem\nausgestorbenen und ausgeleerten Schiffe, nehme meine letzte Kraft\nzusammen, um der Welt und den Meinigen in Gedanken f\u00fcr immer lebewohl\nzu sagen und dann zu sterben. Mir flirrt es schon vor den Augen, der\nKopf ist mir wie ausgeblasen und leer; so lebt denn wohl, lebt wohl,\nherzinnig geliebtes Weib und Kind!\u00ab -- --\nLange sa\u00dfen wir schweigend uns gegen\u00fcber, nachdem wir den Bericht\ngelesen; es \u00fcberlief uns eiskalt, wenn wir uns in die Lage des\nSchreibers versetzt dachten. Lebhaft malte sich unsre Einbildung die\nSzenen aus, welche der Kapit\u00e4n und seine Untergebenen durchlebt haben\nmu\u00dften, als sie in dem Totenschiff einsam dahinzogen durch das dunkle\nMeer und die schneeerf\u00fcllte Luft!\n\u00bbSo etwas kann nur ein Seemann erleben!\u00ab sagte mein Neffe, warf einen\nsinnenden Blick durch das Kaj\u00fcttenfenster aufs rauschende Meer, wandte\nsich dann schnell, um die Schiffsmannschaft bei ihrer Arbeit zu\nbeaufsichtigen und sich durch diese Th\u00e4tigkeit von tr\u00fcben Gedanken zu\nbefreien. Mich selbst beunruhigte das Totenschiff noch einige Tage,\nendlich aber brachten die Pflichten des Tages wieder ruhige Stimmung.\nWir landeten gl\u00fccklich in Neufundland, brachten schnell unsre\nGesch\u00e4fte zum Abschlu\u00df und lie\u00dfen uns dann von der Str\u00f6mung an der\nK\u00fcste Amerikas entlang treiben bis in die Gegend des Antillenmeeres.\nAls wir eines Tages langsam in geringer Entfernung von der flachen\nK\u00fcste dahinstrichen, bemerkten wir in der Ferne eine Art Indianerboot\nund darin aufrecht stehend einen Mann, der uns zuwinkte. Wir m\u00e4\u00dfigten\nden Lauf unsres Schiffes und setzten ein Fahrzeug aus, welches bald\nmit einem seltsam aussehenden Manne zur\u00fcckkehrte. Derselbe zeigte\neurop\u00e4ische Gesichtsbildung, trug am Leibe auch Reste europ\u00e4ischer\nKleidung, dagegen ein indianisches Lederwams; seine F\u00fc\u00dfe waren voll\nWunden, zerfetzt und entstellt, und an den Fu\u00df- und Handgelenken\nhatte er Lederringe, die zum Teil tief in das Fleisch schnitten. Der\nFremdling sah elend und herabgekommen aus und behauptete, er sei den\nRoth\u00e4uten entflohen, die ihn als Sklaven benutzt h\u00e4tten und schon am\nn\u00e4chsten Festtage ihrem Kriegsgotte opfern wollten. In der letzten\nStunde bot sich ihm Gelegenheit zur Flucht; von seinen Peinigern\nverfolgt, gelangte er an einen breiten Flu\u00df, welcher sein Fortkommen\nhemmte. Hinter sich Indianer, vor sich den Strom mit steilem Ufer --\nda galt kein Besinnen, so oder so finde ich den Tod! dachte Wilm, der\nFremdling, und sprang ins Wasser. Zwar sank er unter, tauchte jedoch\nwieder auf und hielt sich schwimmend auf der Oberfl\u00e4che; wiewohl\nfortw\u00e4hrend von Pfeilen und Lanzen bedroht, blieb er unversehrt, gewann\ndas jenseitige Ufer, fand dort eine Kanoe, schwang sich hinein und\nruderte aus Leibeskr\u00e4ften, um seinen Verfolgern zu entgehen, die am\nUfer dahinrannten, schreiend und l\u00e4rmend, und ihm Steine und Geschosse\nnachsandten.\nEr ruderte so lange, bis ihm die Kr\u00e4fte ausgingen, dann legte er sich\nplatt in das Kanoe nieder, lie\u00df sich von den Wellen forttreiben und\nschlief vor M\u00fcdigkeit ein. Wie lange dieser toten\u00e4hnliche Schlummer\ngew\u00e4hrt, wu\u00dfte er nicht. Beim Erwachen bemerkte er, da\u00df er auf einem\ngro\u00dfen, breiten Strome dahintreibe; er wollte sich nun dem Ufer\nn\u00e4hern, um sich nach Nahrung umzusehen, aber kaum war er eine kurze\nStrecke weit gerudert, so entglitt pl\u00f6tzlich das Ruder seiner Hand,\nund er befand sich jetzt hilflos auf einem Fahrzeuge, welches er\nnicht mehr zu lenken vermochte. Was thun? Nach dem Ufer schwimmen?\nDas lag weit entfernt. Also mu\u00dfte sich Wilm dem Schicksale und\nden Wellen \u00fcberlassen, die ihn ziemlich schnell davontrugen. Zwar\npeinigten ihn Hunger und Durst immer heftiger, aber nirgends zeigte\nsich ein Rettungsweg. Endlich sah der zum Tode Ersch\u00f6pfte das offene\nMeer vor sich, in welches ihn der Strom f\u00fchrte. Unser Abenteurer gab\nsich bereits verloren, denn nun fehlte ihm zum Durstl\u00f6schen auch\ndas S\u00fc\u00dfwasser, welches ihn erhalten hatte, so matt und fad es auch\nschmeckte. Noch am zweiten Tage trieb er an der Meeresk\u00fcste dahin, bis\nihn die Str\u00f6mung unserm Schiffe nahe brachte.\nDer Erz\u00e4hler sah erbarmenswert genug aus, sehr abgemagert, Wunden\nan H\u00e4nden, F\u00fc\u00dfen und Schultern. Man reichte ihm zun\u00e4chst die n\u00f6tige\nNahrung, damit er sich wieder erhole; sp\u00e4ter, am Abend, forderte\nman den Fremdling auf, die Gesellschaft mit seiner Herkunft bekannt\nzu machen. Aus seiner Erz\u00e4hlung erfuhren wir, da\u00df er von Geburt\nein Schotte und schon in fr\u00fcher Jugend dem Triebe nach Reisen und\nAbenteuern folgte. Er kam als Matrose auf einem Schiffe nach Amerika,\nwo er als J\u00e4ger nach den indianischen Waldgr\u00fcnden zog und mancherlei\nGefahren, die er uns sehr spannend erz\u00e4hlte, zu bestehen hatte.\nZuletzt geriet er in die Gefangenschaft der Indianer und merkte an\nden \u00c4u\u00dferungen der Wilden, da\u00df sie ihn am n\u00e4chsten Fr\u00fchlingsfeste dem\ngro\u00dfen Geiste opfern wollten. Da galt es denn ernstlich, an baldiges\nEntrinnen zu denken. Not macht erfinderisch, und so fand sich auch\nein Mittel zur Flucht. Wilm scheuerte an scharfer Baumrinde die ihn\nfesselnden Riemen d\u00fcnn, blies sich auf, wenn er angebunden wurde,\nso da\u00df er sich, wenn er Leib und Brust einzog, etwas drehen und\nwenden konnte. Jede Nacht fanden \u00dcbungen in solchen Bewegungen statt,\nund als die Riemen sich d\u00fcnn genug erwiesen, entwand er sich der\nSchlinge, die ihn an den Baum fesselte, und zerbi\u00df die Riemen mit den\nZ\u00e4hnen. Indianer aber haben ein leises Geh\u00f6r, man hatte seine Tritte\nvernommen, im Nu war das Lager hinter ihm her. Zwar hatte er einen\nVorsprung, aber die wunden F\u00fc\u00dfe hinderten ihn am Laufen. Sicher w\u00e4re\ner in die H\u00e4nde seiner Feinde gefallen, wenn er nicht das Ufer eines\nFlusses erreicht und sich durch einen Sprung in denselben gerettet\nh\u00e4tte.\nDie Zuh\u00f6rer Wilms waren seiner Erz\u00e4hlung aufmerksam gefolgt, und alle\nbetrachteten ihn als einen achtungswerten Schicksalsgenossen, ja es\ndeuchte allen am besten, wenn der Schotte sie nach der Kolonie begleite.\nSeit der Auffindung Freitags war mir ein gleich leidsamer Geselle nicht\nin den Weg gekommen. Ich machte daher Wilm den Antrag, sich mir auf\nmeinen weiteren Fahrten beizugesellen. Er besann sich auch nicht lange\nund sagte zu.\nSo verging in verschiedenartigem Wechsel ein Tag nach dem andern. Kein\nwidriger Wind hinderte uns, und wir erreichten deshalb eher noch, als\nwir es gedacht, die Insel Trinidad, in deren N\u00e4he meine Kolonie lag.\nDoch konnte ich meine Insel anfangs nicht wiedererkennen, weil sich\nunser Schiff an der Nordseite befand und ich sie von dieser Seite aus\nnoch nie gesehen hatte.\n[Illustration: Kampf und Streit zwischen den Kolonisten.]\nSechzehntes Kapitel.\nDie Schicksale der Kolonie.\n  Ankunft auf der Insel. -- Freitag und sein Vater. -- Bericht \u00fcber\n  die Wirren w\u00e4hrend der Abwesenheit des Gr\u00fcnders. -- Neue Ordnung. --\n  Weitere Reisepl\u00e4ne.\nEndlich erkannte ich die Insel, und wir steuerten flott auf sie zu.\nDie Bewohner hatten uns gleichfalls bemerkt und eilten voll Erwartung\nans Ufer. Kaum waren wir unter starkem Zulaufe gelandet, so erkannte\nFreitag auch schon auf den ersten Blick unter den Versammelten seinen\nVater und scho\u00df wie ein Pfeil durch die verdutzten Inselbewohner auf\nihn zu. Er fiel dem alten Manne mit ausgebreiteten Armen um den Hals,\nstreichelte ihm die Wangen, setzte ihn auf einen Baumstamm, kniete\nvor ihm nieder und blickte ihm fest ins Gesicht, w\u00e4hrend die hellen\nFreudenthr\u00e4nen \u00fcber seine Wangen flossen. Dann ergriff er die H\u00e4nde\ndes Greises und k\u00fc\u00dfte sie; wieder erhob er sich, setzte sich von\nneuem nieder und schaute in das Antlitz seines Vaters mit der ganzen\nZ\u00e4rtlichkeit eines kindlich liebenden Sohnes. Aber auch ich wurde\nmit lauter Freude begr\u00fc\u00dft und von meinem Stellvertreter Caballos in\nmeine ehemalige Behausung gef\u00fchrt, welche man mittlerweile mit einer\nwohlangelegten Befestigung versehen hatte.\nDon Caballos erz\u00e4hlte mir, als wir behaglich bei einer Flasche Wein\nsa\u00dfen, die vielfachen St\u00f6rungen und Streitigkeiten, welche w\u00e4hrend\nmeiner Abwesenheit vorgekommen waren.\n[Illustration: Die Kolonisten bei der Bodenbestellung.]\n\u00bbAnf\u00e4nglich herrschte zwischen uns und den Engl\u00e4ndern\u00ab, so berichtete\ner, \u00bbdas beste Einvernehmen, und es hatte den Anschein, als ob die\nNiederlassung in erfreulicher Weise gedeihen solle. Die Engl\u00e4nder\naber mochten sich zu keiner Arbeit bequemen; lieber streiften sie\nauf der Insel umher, schossen zu ihrem Vergn\u00fcgen Papageien, wendeten\nSchildkr\u00f6ten um, und wenn sie des Abends nach Hause zur\u00fcckkamen, lie\u00dfen\nsie sich das von uns bereitete Nachtessen vortrefflich munden. Nur\num des lieben Friedens willen hatten wir sie gew\u00e4hren lassen. Aber\nnicht damit zufrieden, keine Arbeit zu thun, hielten uns die Engl\u00e4nder\nvon unsern eignen Gesch\u00e4ften ab. Die ersten Zwistigkeiten waren\ngeringf\u00fcgiger Art, bald jedoch f\u00fchrten sie einen offenen Krieg herbei.\nDie zwei Engl\u00e4nder, welche kurz vor Ihrer Abreise in das Innere der\nInsel entwichen waren, kamen sp\u00e4ter in die Burg, um die Vorr\u00e4te mit\nverzehren zu helfen. Allein sehr bald wurden sie von den drei rohen\nInsassen vertrieben. Nach unsrer Ankunft beklagten sie sich beide \u00fcber\ndie erlittene Behandlung, worauf wir versuchten, sie zu vers\u00f6hnen,\nwas aber nicht gelang, da jene rohen Burschen ihnen den Aufenthalt in\nder Burg beharrlich verweigerten. Den armen Zur\u00fcckgesto\u00dfenen blieb\nnichts \u00fcbrig, als sich von uns zu trennen und die n\u00f6rdliche Gegend der\nInsel zu ihrem Wohnplatze zu w\u00e4hlen. Hier erbauten sie zwei H\u00fctten,\ndie eine zur Wohnung, die andre zum Vorratshause. Wir gaben ihnen\nGetreide und Reis zum S\u00e4en, Gef\u00e4\u00dfe, Werkzeuge und etliche Ziegen. Zwar\nkonnten sie nur ein kleines St\u00fcck Land bebauen, doch fiel die Ernte\ng\u00fcnstig f\u00fcr sie aus, und bald befanden sie sich auf dem besten Wege\nbescheidenen Fortschritts. Jene drei b\u00f6swilligen Burschen indessen\nlie\u00dfen ihre Landsleute nicht in Ruhe, sondern suchten sie in ihrem\nneuen Besitztum auf und forderten unter dem Vorgeben, da\u00df ihnen der\nBesitz der Insel von dem Gouverneur \u00fcbertragen sei und niemand sich\nohne ihre Einwilligung niederlassen d\u00fcrfe, Pacht f\u00fcr ihr Land. Da sie\nsich nun dieser Aufforderung nicht f\u00fcgten und dar\u00fcber spotteten,\nverga\u00df sich der eine ihrer Gegner so sehr, da\u00df er die H\u00fctte in Brand\nsteckte. Zwar gelang es, das Feuer alsbald zu l\u00f6schen, doch kam es zu\neinem heftigen Streit, wobei der Brandstifter schwer verwundet wurde.\nDa diese Burschen sahen, da\u00df sie es mit entschlossenen Leuten zu thun\nhatten, so begannen sie Unterhandlungen und baten, ihren verwundeten\nKameraden mitnehmen zu d\u00fcrfen. Am Abend trafen zwei unsrer Landsleute\njene r\u00fchrigen Engl\u00e4nder im Walde, welche sich bitter \u00fcber die ihnen\nzugef\u00fcgten Unbilden beklagten. Als meine Spanier darauf heimkehrten,\nthaten sie den Engl\u00e4ndern Vorhalt ob ihres Benehmens, worauf der eine,\nAtkins, barsch antwortete: \u00bbJawohl, wir wollen euch beweisen, da\u00df ihr\nSpanier auch unsre Sklaven werden m\u00fc\u00dft!\u00ab\n\u00bbDie Feindseligkeiten zwischen den Engl\u00e4ndern unter sich dauerten noch\nfort, und so kam es, da\u00df eines Morgens die beiden Kolonisten im Norden\naufgebrochen waren und vor unsrer Burg erschienen. Die drei Strolche\nhatten unterdessen auf Rache gesonnen, waren auch aufgebrochen, jedoch\nin der Absicht, die zwei Kolonisten im Schlafe zu \u00fcberraschen, ihre\nH\u00fctten einzu\u00e4schern und dieselben zu ermorden. Zum Gl\u00fcck erreichten\njene ihren Zweck nicht ganz und begn\u00fcgten sich damit, die H\u00fctten\nniederzurei\u00dfen und den gesamten Viehstand zu t\u00f6ten. Frohlockend \u00fcber\nden gelungenen Streich kehrten sie dann nach der Burg zur\u00fcck.\n\u00bbDie beiden Kolonisten eilten mit tr\u00fcben Ahnungen ihren H\u00fctten zu und\nsahen das Werk ihrer flei\u00dfigen H\u00e4nde als einen w\u00fcsten Tr\u00fcmmerhaufen vor\nsich. Sie werden begreifen, welch wehm\u00fctiges Gef\u00fchl sie da beschlich\nund wie die Thr\u00e4nen des Unwillens in ihre Augen traten. Hierauf\nschritten sie der Festung zu, um uns zu erz\u00e4hlen, was vorgefallen.\n\u00bbUnterdessen waren aber die drei Frevler in der Burg eingetroffen und\nprahlten gegen die Spanier mit dem ver\u00fcbten Bubenst\u00fcck. Ja ihr \u00dcbermut\nging so weit, da\u00df einer der schlimmen Gesellen einem Spanier den Hut\nvom Kopfe warf und ihm sagte: \u00bbUnd Ihr, Herr Hans von Spanien, seid\nk\u00fcnftig h\u00f6flicher, und wenn ihr Herrchen nicht Respekt vor uns habt,\nso wird es euch gerade so ergehen wie den beiden Kolonisten!\u00ab Emp\u00f6rt\nschlug der Spanier den Frechen mit einem Faustschlag nieder. Der andre\nEngl\u00e4nder wollte seinen Freund r\u00e4chen und feuerte sein Pistol auf den\nSpanier, wobei er ihn leicht am Ohr verwundete. Letzterer ergriff\nsein Gewehr und w\u00fcrde unfehlbar den Engl\u00e4nder niedergestreckt haben,\nw\u00e4ren die \u00fcbrigen Spanier nicht dazwischengetreten und h\u00e4tten die drei\nentwaffnet.\n\u00bbDa diese sahen, da\u00df sie nichts ausrichten konnten, baten sie, man\nm\u00f6chte ihnen doch ihre Waffen wiedergeben. Selbstverst\u00e4ndlich konnten\ndie Spanier hierauf nicht eingehen, sondern sicherten ihnen ihren\nBeistand zu, wenn sie in N\u00f6ten w\u00e4ren, was aber jene nicht annehmen\nwollten. Als aber die beiden Engl\u00e4nder hinzugekommen waren und\nstrenge Bestrafung forderten, gaben sie nach und baten um Milde.\nInfolgedessen wurden die Ruhest\u00f6rer aufgefordert, das Zertr\u00fcmmerte\nwiederherzustellen, worein sie willigten. Dies f\u00fchrten sie auch aus,\ngingen aber alsdann wieder ihrem Nichtsthun nach. So verstrichen drei\nMonate ohne Unterbrechung, und da wir glaubten, die drei seien endlich\nzur Einsicht gekommen, so gaben wir ihnen die Waffen zur\u00fcck, damit\nsie durch Erlegung von Wild uns n\u00fctzlich sein k\u00f6nnten. War nun dieser\nStreit endlich beigelegt, so hatte uns eine andre Gefahr gedroht, und\nzwar von den Kariben --\u00ab\n\u00bbVon den Kariben?\u00ab unterbrach ich den Bericht meines Stellvertreters.\n\u00bbO, so erz\u00e4hlen Sie doch, welche Bewandtnis es mit diesen gehabt.\u00ab\n\u00bbEines Abends\u00ab, so fuhr Caballos fort, \u00bbwar eine ganze Flottille, 28\nBarken stark, an der Nordk\u00fcste, zwei Stunden von unsern \u00e4u\u00dfersten\nPflanzungen entfernt, in die \u00f6stliche Bucht eingelaufen. Die Bemannung\nder fremden Pirogen mochte sich wohl auf 250 K\u00f6pfe belaufen und war\nmit Bogen, Pfeilen, gro\u00dfen Wurfspie\u00dfen und h\u00f6lzernen Schwertern\nausger\u00fcstet. Solch eine feindliche Macht versetzte nat\u00fcrlich die\nKolonisten in Furcht und Schrecken. In aller Eile wurden die\nneuerbauten H\u00fctten abgebrochen und alles Vieh wie die Werkzeuge\nund Ger\u00e4tschaften nach der H\u00f6hle geschafft. Die Streitmacht der\nKolonisten war gegen\u00fcber der gro\u00dfen Zahl der Wilden nur sehr gering;\ndenn sie bestand im ganzen aus nur drei\u00dfig Mann. Die Europ\u00e4er\nbehielten die Feuergewehre f\u00fcr sich, und jeder nahm auch noch eine\nAxt an sich. Ich kommandierte die kleine Armee und ernannte Atkins\nzu meinem Unterbefehlshaber. Dieser befand sich hier vollkommen an\nseinem Platze, denn an Tapferkeit, Mut und Entschlossenheit that es\nihm niemand zuvor. Er hatte sich mit sechs Mann vorw\u00e4rts in einem\nGeb\u00fcsch aufgestellt, auch den \u00fcbrigen ihren Stand am Saume des Waldes\nunter dem Schutze des Gestr\u00e4uches angewiesen. Die Wilden r\u00fcckten in\neinem \u00fcbel geordneten, etwa 50 Mann starken Haufen gegen die kleine\nStreitmacht heran, w\u00e4hrend gr\u00f6\u00dfere Scharen in dichten Massen folgten.\nAtkins lie\u00df den Trupp vor\u00fcberziehen, dann befahl er dreien seiner\nLeute, die jedes ihrer Gewehre mit mehreren Kugeln geladen hatten, auf\nden zusammengedr\u00e4ngten Haufen zu feuern. Die Zahl der Get\u00f6teten und\nVerwundeten mu\u00dfte erheblich gewesen sein, denn Schreck und Verwirrung\n\u00fcberkamen die Indianer. Diesen Umstand benutzte Atkins und lie\u00df eine\nzweite Salve folgen, die eine \u00e4hnliche Wirkung hervorrief. Nachdem sich\nindes der \u00dcberrest der Kannibalen etwas erholt, st\u00fcrmten sie ihrerseits\nauf die Spanier los. Letztere zogen sich unter fortw\u00e4hrenden Salven\nvorsichtig zur\u00fcck, aber die Pfeile der Indianer schwirrten oft genug\nunheildrohend durch das Laubwerk des Geb\u00fcsches, und wie L\u00f6wen st\u00fcrzten\nbald nachher die Wilden auf ihre Feinde ein. Drei M\u00e4nner des Trupps:\nein Spanier, ein Brite und ein Sklave, wurden get\u00f6tet, Atkins selbst\nleicht verwundet. Zum Gl\u00fccke r\u00fcckte das Hauptkorps der Europ\u00e4er in drei\nZ\u00fcgen zu je sechs und acht Mann n\u00e4her, zun\u00e4chst ein m\u00f6rderisches Feuer\ner\u00f6ffnend, so da\u00df viele der Wilden verwundet niederst\u00fcrzten, die Masse\nderselben aber ratlos durcheinander wogte.\n\u00bbNachdem die Feuerwaffen hinreichend vorgearbeitet hatten, drang auch\nder Rest unsrer Streitmacht aus dem Waldesdunkel hervor, und die\ns\u00e4mtlichen Europ\u00e4er fielen nun \u00fcber die Feinde mit den Handwaffen\nher. Im ersten Augenblicke wie gel\u00e4hmt, lie\u00dfen sie sich leicht\nniederwerfen. Dann aber rafften sie sich wieder auf und setzten sich\nmannhaft von neuem zur Wehr. W\u00fctend schlugen sie mit ihren Keulen und\nSchwertern drein, schossen einen Hagel von Pfeilen auf uns ab und\nverwundeten mehrere unsrer Mannschaft, darunter Freitags Vater. Doch\ndie Kolonisten hieben erbarmungslos mit ihren \u00c4xten, Piken, Schwertern\nund Gewehrkolben auf die Feinde los, so da\u00df binnen kurzer Zeit 180\nIndianer, teils get\u00f6tet, teils schwer oder leichter verwundet, die\nWalstatt bedeckten. Die Feinde sahen nach solchem Verluste, da\u00df hier\njeder weitere Widerstand vergeblich sei, und suchten in wilder Flucht\ndas Ufer zu gewinnen, um sich in ihre Barken zu retten. Die Europ\u00e4er\nwaren zu sehr erm\u00fcdet, als da\u00df sie die Fl\u00fcchtigen h\u00e4tten verfolgen\nk\u00f6nnen. Doch das Ma\u00df des Ungl\u00fccks war f\u00fcr die Besiegten noch nicht\nvoll; ein f\u00fcrchterlicher Sturm, der vor Anbruch der Nacht zu toben\nbegonnen, hatte ihre Kanoes hoch auf den Strand geschleudert, so\nda\u00df sie trotz aller Anstrengungen nicht wieder flott gemacht werden\nkonnten. Den gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil fanden sie bereits an den Felsen zerschellt\nvor. In dumpfem Hinbr\u00fcten lagerten sich die Wilden, die sich noch\netwa auf 70 Mann belaufen mochten, in einem Kreise, das Kinn auf die\nKniee gest\u00fctzt, starr aufs Meer hinausschauend -- ein Bild uns\u00e4glichen\nJammers!\n\u00bbNach der Flucht der Feinde konnte man sich von den Strapazen etwas\nausruhen und sich durch Speise und Trank st\u00e4rken. Doch nur kurze\nZeit gestattete man sich diese Erholungspause. Alle waren ohnehin\nbegierig, zu erfahren, was aus den Feinden geworden. Daher brachen\nalle noch Streitbaren gegen die K\u00fcste auf, wobei der Weg \u00fcber den\nKampfplatz f\u00fchrte. Dort lagen in grauenvollem Gemisch Verwundete\nund Tote durcheinander, und auf allen Seiten \u00e4chzte und st\u00f6hnte es\nin schauerlichen T\u00f6nen. In betreff der am Leben gebliebenen Feinde,\nwelche sich in die W\u00e4lder gefl\u00fcchtet hatten, war guter Rat teuer.\nNach mannigfachem Hin- und Herreden einigte man sich zuletzt in der\nMa\u00dfregel, wom\u00f6glich die feindlichen Kanoes zu verbrennen, um den\nIndianern die R\u00fcckfahrt und die Anstiftung eines neuen Rachezuges gegen\ndie Kolonie abzuschneiden. Es gelang, die Wilden wurden dann unter\nt\u00e4glichen K\u00e4mpfen in die Felsengebirge der s\u00fcdwestlichen Gegenden\nunsres Eilandes gedr\u00e4ngt. Hierauf zogen die Krieger es vor, Frieden\nmit den abgeschnittenen Feinden zu schlie\u00dfen, und schickten deshalb\nFreitags Vater als Abgesandten an dieselben ab. Dieser brachte wirklich\neine Verst\u00e4ndigung zustande, zumal die armen Leute, von Hunger und\nElend gebeugt, bereits auf 30 K\u00f6pfe zusammengeschmolzen waren. Sie\nerhielten Nahrungsmittel (Brot, Reiskuchen und Ziegenfleisch) und\nwurden dann unter der Bedingung unverbr\u00fcchlichen Gehorsams als Freunde\naufgenommen. Auf dem s\u00fcd\u00f6stlichen Teile der Insel, in einem von hohen\nFelsen umg\u00fcrteten Thale, wies man ihnen Wohnsitze an und half ihnen\nH\u00fctten erbauen. Dann unterrichtete man sie auch in der Kunst, allerlei\nWerkzeuge zu verfertigen, das Feld zu bearbeiten, Brot zu bereiten,\nK\u00f6rbe zu flechten, T\u00f6pfe zu formen, Ziegen zu melken, und beschenkte\nsie mit \u00c4xten, Beilen, Messern und sonstigen Ger\u00e4tschaften sowie mit\neinigen Ziegen und B\u00f6cken.\n\u00bbNach und nach wu\u00dfte das V\u00f6lkchen sich immer bequemer einzurichten und\nlebte ruhig und harmlos in seinem Winkel, gl\u00fccklicher vielleicht als in\nder alten Heimat!\n\u00bbSeit der Errichtung dieser neuen Ansiedelung erfreut sich die Kolonie\u00ab\n-- mit diesen Worten schlo\u00df Don Caballos seinen Bericht -- \u00bbnun schon\nzwei Jahre hindurch eines ungest\u00f6rten Friedens bis zu Ihrer Ankunft,\nHerr Gouverneur. Zwar landeten noch von Zeit zu Zeit Indianertrupps an\nunserm Eilande, um ihre entsetzlichen Triumphmahlzeiten zu halten, aber\nsie schienen kein Verlangen weiter zu versp\u00fcren, das Innere der Insel\nkennen zu lernen und uns mit ihrem schlimmen Besuche zu beehren.\u00ab\nAus der Erz\u00e4hlung von Don Caballos ersieht man, welch schwere Zeiten\nund bedrohliche Wirren w\u00e4hrend meiner Abwesenheit \u00fcber mein liebes\nEiland hingegangen waren. Die Kolonie befand sich jedoch gegenw\u00e4rtig in\nerw\u00fcnschtem Gedeihen und Fortschreiten, und der Einflu\u00df europ\u00e4ischer\nGesittung hatte sich bei den Indianern in wohlth\u00e4tiger Weise geltend\ngemacht.\nSie hatten bereits geflochtene Tische, St\u00fchle, Ruhebetten und noch\nmanches andre Hausger\u00e4t sauber herzustellen gelernt. Auch die Weiber\ndes wilden Volksstammes wu\u00dften sich zu f\u00fcgen und zeigten sich\narbeitsam. Sie zeigten sich auch gutm\u00fctig gegen die Kinder und nahmen\nwillig die Unterweisungen in den Lehren des Christentums auf, wobei die\nFrauen der Kolonisten einen besonderen Eifer kundgaben.\n[Illustration: Unterweisung der Indianerinnen durch die Frauen der\nKolonisten.]\nNicht selten hatte ich w\u00e4hrend meines kurzen Besuches Gelegenheit,\nzu bemerken, wie von Zeit zu Zeit eine Kolonistin recht erbauliche\nMitteilungen an die eine oder andre der Indianerfrauen richtete und in\nden letzteren ganz and\u00e4chtige Zuh\u00f6rerinnen fand.\nNachdem ich jetzt einen \u00dcberblick \u00fcber den Stand der Kolonie gegeben\nhabe, wie ich sie bei meiner Ankunft vorfand, will ich nun auch\nberichten, was ich f\u00fcr die Ansiedler that und in welchen Verh\u00e4ltnissen\nich sie verlie\u00df. Es lag nicht in meiner Absicht, da\u00df jemand der Insel\nden R\u00fccken zuwende, vielmehr w\u00fcnschte ich die Bev\u00f6lkerung anwachsen\nzu sehen, und aus diesem Grunde hatte ich ja eine Menge brauchbarer\nWerkzeuge und Ger\u00e4te mitgebracht, an denen es bisher gemangelt\nhatte. Der jetzige friedliche Verkehr der Kolonisten untereinander\nbefriedigte mich in hohem Ma\u00dfe, und ich ermahnte sie, auch f\u00fcr die\nFolgezeit in Eintracht nebeneinander zu leben. Zur Best\u00e4rkung in\ndiesen guten Vors\u00e4tzen veranstaltete ich ein gl\u00e4nzendes Friedens- und\nFreundschaftsfest, bei welchem unser Schiffskoch viel Ehre einlegte.\nDann schritt ich zur Verteilung der mitgebrachten Geschenke; jeder der\nKolonisten erhielt einen Spaten, eine Hacke, eine Harke, eine Schaufel,\neine gro\u00dfe Axt und eine S\u00e4ge. N\u00e4gel, Klammern, H\u00e4mmer, Bolzen, Messer\nund \u00e4hnliche Dinge wurden in Menge verteilt. Meine Vorr\u00e4te an Waffen\nund Munition waren so reichlich, da\u00df jeder doppelt und dreifach\nbewaffnet werden konnte und da\u00df man jetzt selbst einen Angriff von 1000\nWilden nicht mehr zu f\u00fcrchten brauchte. In den folgenden Tagen stattete\nich verschiedene Besuche den einzelnen Niederlassungen der Insel ab und\nmachte mich dann noch an die schwierige Aufgabe einer gleichm\u00e4\u00dfigen\nVerteilung des Grundbesitzes. Ich teilte zu diesem Endzweck das Land in\nverschiedene Bezirke ein und wies jedem ein gleichgro\u00dfes St\u00fcck an. Mir\nselbst behielt ich die Oberherrschaft \u00fcber die Insel vor und best\u00e4tigte\nDon Caballos als meinen Stellvertreter; zu den Wilden im S\u00fcdosten wurde\nFreitags Vater entsendet. Er sollte ihnen er\u00f6ffnen, da\u00df von nun an auch\nf\u00fcr sie eine neue Ordnung der Dinge eintreten w\u00fcrde, und da\u00df sie sich\nentscheiden sollten, ob sie ihr eignes Land bauen oder den Kolonisten\num einen bestimmten Lohn dienen wollten. Nur sehr wenige w\u00e4hlten die\nUnabh\u00e4ngigkeit; die Mehrzahl zog es wohlweislich vor, Dienste zu nehmen.\nSo glaubte ich alles aufs beste geordnet zu haben und schickte mich\nwieder zur Abreise nach dem Osten an; ich wollte Afrika umsegeln\nund Madagaskar und die L\u00e4nder des Indischen Meeres besuchen, sodann\nwom\u00f6glich durch China und Sibirien den Heimweg nehmen. Auch Wilm\nstimmte ohne weitere Bedenken bei, die Weltreise nach diesem Plane\nauszuf\u00fchren -- ihn trieb es gleichfalls hinaus ins Weite. Also hie\u00df es:\ndie Segel gesetzt -- auf! hinaus wieder ins weite Meer!\n[Illustration: Freitags Tod.]\nSiebzehntes Kapitel.\nFortgang und Schlu\u00df von Robinsons Weltfahrt.\n  Abschied von der Kolonie. -- K\u00e4mpfe zur See. -- Freitags Tod. --\n  Brasilien. -- Sturm am Kaplande. -- Verschlagen ins Eismeer. -- Das\n  \u00bbVenedig des Eismeeres\u00ab. -- Gefangen im Eise. -- Durchbruch. --\n  Der verlassene Matrose. -- Ein \u00bbRobinson\u00ab auf einer schwimmenden\n  Eisscholle. -- Irrfahrten. -- Das Gespensterschiff. -- Zusammensto\u00df\n  mit den Kochinchinesen. -- In China und Sibirien. -- R\u00fcckkehr nach\n  England. -- Endliche Ruhe.\nDie letzten Verhaltungsma\u00dfregeln waren angeordnet, und als ich Abschied\nnahm, begleiteten mich die Kolonisten, die mich wie ihren Vater und\nWohlth\u00e4ter verehrten, bis hin zur Bucht. Sobald das Schiff das offene\nMeer gewonnen hatte, sagten wir der Insel mit f\u00fcnf Kanonensch\u00fcssen\nlebewohl und richteten unsern Lauf nach der Allerheiligenbai, die\nwir nach drei Wochen erreichten. Unterwegs hatten wir aber noch\nein verh\u00e4ngnisvolles Abenteuer zu bestehen, das mir einen gro\u00dfen,\nunersetzlichen Verlust brachte. Am dritten Abend nach unsrer Abfahrt\nbemerkten wir bei voller Windstille, wie sich an einer fernen K\u00fcste\ndunkle Punkte lebhaft hin und her bewegten. Der Hochbootsmann stieg\nmit dem Fernrohr auf den Fockmast und berichtete, es sei eine ganze\nFlotte Wilder, und er sch\u00e4tzte die Zahl ihrer Kanoes auf mehr als\nhundert. Wir mu\u00dften uns also jedenfalls auf einen blutigen Kampf gefa\u00dft\nmachen, zu welchem ich die Schiffsmannschaft nach Kr\u00e4ften ermutigte.\nIch lie\u00df die beiden Schaluppen flott machen und mit hinreichender\nMannschaft besetzen. Die inzwischen n\u00e4her kommende Flottille der Wilden\nbestand aus etwa 130 K\u00e4hnen, jeder durchschnittlich mit einem Dutzend\nBewaffneter bemannt. F\u00fcnf oder sechs dieser Kanoes kamen uns fast bis\nauf Wurfweite nahe, und unsre Leute, die eine Umzingelung besorgten,\ngaben deshalb mit der Hand ein Zeichen, da\u00df sich die Wilden entfernen\nm\u00f6chten. Diese verstanden es recht wohl, schossen aber zahlreiche\nPfeile auf uns ab und verwundeten einen unsrer Matrosen. Trotzdem hielt\nich immer noch meine Leute vom Feuern zur\u00fcck und lie\u00df einige Planken\nin die Schaluppe hinabgleiten; aus diesen bildete der Zimmermann eine\nArt Wall, hinter welchem unsre Mannschaft vor den Pfeilen der Wilden\ngesch\u00fctzt war. Jetzt ruderte aber der ganze Schwarm heran und fiel\nuns in den R\u00fccken. Da erkannte ich in den Angreifern alte Bekannte,\nmit denen ich schon auf der Insel zu thun gehabt hatte. Ich befahl,\ndie Kanonen bereit zu halten, und schickte Freitag aufs Deck, um die\nFremdlinge zu fragen, was sie begehrten. Sie antworteten mit einem\nHagel von Pfeilen und ach! -- Freitag, v\u00f6llig ungesch\u00fctzt dastehend --\n-- st\u00fcrzte von zwei Pfeilen durchbohrt nieder. -- -- Noch ein Blick aus\nseinen liebevoll ergebenen Augen, als ich vor ihn trat, und -- -- *er\nverschied*.\nDer herbe Schmerz \u00fcber den Verlust meines alten, treuen Gef\u00e4hrten\nverdr\u00e4ngte jedes Erbarmen aus meiner Brust. In heftigem Zorn lie\u00df ich\nf\u00fcnf Kanonen mit Kart\u00e4tschen und vier mit Kugeln laden und in den\ndichten Schwarm der Boote hineinfeuern. Das war eine Salve, wie die\nWilden in ihrem Leben keine \u00e4hnliche empfangen hatten: eine Menge\nBarken wurden teils zertr\u00fcmmert, teils in den Grund gebohrt; alles, was\nnoch ein Ruder in den H\u00e4nden f\u00fchlte, arbeitete aus Leibeskr\u00e4ften, um\ndiesem m\u00f6rderischen Empfang zu entrinnen. Bald war die wilde Sippschaft\nunsern Blicken entflohen, aber auf dem Wasser schwammen in gro\u00dfer Zahl\nunter Tr\u00fcmmern und Balken tote, verwundete und verletzte Indianer\numher. Der Sieg indessen war allzu teuer erkauft. Der Verlust meines\ntreuen Freitag lie\u00df sich nicht \u00fcberwinden; tiefe Schwermut bem\u00e4chtigte\nsich seitdem meines Gem\u00fcts; kaum da\u00df Wilm mich etwas aufzuheitern\nvermochte.\nAm Abend jenes verh\u00e4ngnisvollen Trauertages setzte der Wind um, eine\nfrische Brise kr\u00e4uselte den Spiegel des Meeres, \u00fcber welchem vorher die\nWindstille mit ihren bleiernen Fl\u00fcgeln gehangen hatte -- und weiter\nging die Fahrt nach Brasilien ohne Hindernisse und Gefahren.\nAm 18. Tage nach dem geschilderten Gefechte mit den Wilden ankerten\nwir, nachdem wir drei Tage vorher das Kap St. Augustin umschifft\nhatten, in der Allerheiligenbucht. Es gelang mir, meinen ehemaligen\nGesellschafter aufzufinden, mit welchem ich verschiedene Geschenke\naustauschte. Derselbe gew\u00e4hrte mir auch seine Hilfe bei Ausr\u00fcstung\neiner Schaluppe, durch welche ich meiner Kolonie eine Zufuhr an Leuten\nund Gebrauchsgegenst\u00e4nden zukommen lassen wollte. Den n\u00fctzlichen\nDingen, welche ich meinen Kolonisten zuwandte, lie\u00df ich drei\nMilchk\u00fche und f\u00fcnf K\u00e4lber hinzuf\u00fcgen sowie einige zwanzig Schweine\nund drei Pferde. Auch bewog ich, gem\u00e4\u00df eines den Spaniern gegebenen\nVersprechens, noch drei Portugiesinnen, sich nach der Insel zu begeben.\nDas Boot, hinl\u00e4nglich bemannt, ging nun unter Segel und kam auch\ngl\u00fccklich auf meinem Eilande an, von der Einwohnerschaft mit Jubel\nbegr\u00fc\u00dft. Durch die neuen Ank\u00f6mmlinge wuchs die Kolonie bis auf die\nstattliche Anzahl von ziemlich 70 K\u00f6pfen an, die Kinder nicht mit\neingerechnet.\nErst nach Jahren empfing ich durch meinen Gesch\u00e4ftsgenossen, der\nden Verkehr mit meiner Kolonie unterhielt, ausf\u00fchrlichere Berichte\n\u00fcber den Zustand derselben. Solange Don Caballos noch lebte und die\nRegentschaft \u00fcber die Insel f\u00fchrte, befand sich die Verwaltung in\nguten H\u00e4nden. Nachdem dieser aber in einem Gefechte gegen die Wilden\ngeblieben und auch Will Atkins, der sich in den letzten Jahren der\nLeitung der Kolonie mit allen Kr\u00e4ften unterzogen hatte, gestorben war,\nbrachen unter der Bev\u00f6lkerung heftige, ja sogar blutige Zwistigkeiten\naus, und die Herrschaft ging von einer Hand in die andre \u00fcber. M\u00fcde\nder unaufh\u00f6rlichen Streitigkeiten, zog es eine Anzahl der Kolonisten\nvor, nach Brasilien auszuwandern, und dieses Beispiel verlockte\nbald auch andre, die Insel zu verlassen. Nun brach eine traurige\nZeit f\u00fcr die Zur\u00fcckgebliebenen an; denn, wieder zu einem kleinen\nH\u00e4uflein zusammengeschmolzen und den best\u00e4ndigen Angriffen der Wilden\nausgesetzt, welche genaue Kenntnis von der Abnahme der Bev\u00f6lkerung der\nInsel erlangt hatten, setzten sie ihre einzige Hoffnung nur noch auf\nmeinen Beistand. Sie hatten in der That mir nach London geschrieben und\nmich um Hilfe in ihrer traurigen Lage gebeten. Allein es sollten Jahre\nvergehen, ehe ich diese Briefe erhielt; auch mochte ich nicht dahin\nzur\u00fcckkehren, weil es doch zu sp\u00e4t gewesen w\u00e4re, ihnen erfolgreich\nbeizustehen. Die fortgesetzte Feindschaft der Wilden und ein\nentsetzliches Erdbeben, durch welches die Insel und die Niederlassungen\nschwer heimgesucht wurden, hatten schlie\u00dflich die v\u00f6llige Ver\u00f6dung\nder Insel zur Folge. Nur wenige Bewohner entrannen dem f\u00fcrchterlichen\nVerh\u00e4ngnisse. --\nNachdem ich in Brasilien meine Gesch\u00e4fte beendet hatte, nahmen wir\ndurch das Atlantische Meer unsre Richtung gegen das Vorgebirge der\nguten Hoffnung, wo wir frisches Wasser und Proviant einzunehmen\ngedachten, um dann unsre Fahrt nach Osten weiter fortzusetzen. Schon\nsahen wir in der Ferne den dunkelblauen Streifen des L\u00f6wenberges aus\ndem Meere aufragen und hofften nun in der Tafelbai zu ankern. Da\nstiegen pl\u00f6tzlich schwarze Wolken auf, verh\u00fcllten die hohen Gebirge und\n\u00fcberdeckten schnell den ganzen Himmel. Bald h\u00f6rten wir das schrille\nToben und Sausen des Sturmes, in welches das dumpfe Brausen der\nhochgehenden Wogen einstimmte.\nDer Sturm war mit ganzer Macht ausgebrochen. Dichte Finsternis lagerte\n\u00fcber dem Meere, der Orkan heulte und tobte in allen Tonarten, die\nWellen t\u00fcrmten sich empor, die Masten krachten, schnarrend zerrissen\neinige Segel, da wir nicht im stande waren, sie zu reffen, und unser\nSchiff scho\u00df wie ein Pfeil durch das tobende Meer in der Richtung\nnach S\u00fcdosten. Wir vermochten nichts gegen die \u00dcbermacht des Sturmes\nauszurichten, mu\u00dften uns derselben vielmehr willenlos \u00fcberlassen. Nach\neinigen Tagen fanden wir uns, als der Sturm nachgelassen hatte, in eine\nneue Welt versetzt. Rechts und links zogen Eisschollen an uns vor\u00fcber,\ndie oft Kisten von viereckiger Gestalt glichen; dazwischen taumelten\nphantastisch gestaltete Eisberge wie Betrunkene, die den Heimweg nicht\nfinden k\u00f6nnen. Immer zahlreicher dr\u00e4ngten die Schollen, immer dichter\nzogen die Eisberge gruppenweise vor\u00fcber, weshalb die Matrosen sie\nEiskarawanen nannten. Die Eisbl\u00f6cke oben auf den Eisbergen glichen oft\nH\u00e4usern, D\u00f6rfern, verfallenen Kirchen oder Schlo\u00dfruinen, und einmal\nglaubten wir gar in eine Feenwelt versetzt zu sein. Eine Menge von\nEiskolossen hatte sich so geordnet, da\u00df sie wie H\u00e4user nebeneinander\nstanden und f\u00f6rmliche Stra\u00dfen bildeten. Wir nannten diese Stelle\ndas \u00bbVenedig des Eismeeres\u00ab. Man sah breite Wasserstra\u00dfen mit engen\nNebengassen; Seehunde, Pinguine und andre Seev\u00f6gel schwammen lustig\nan diesen Eispal\u00e4sten entlang, aus deren zerbr\u00f6ckelten W\u00e4nden man\nsich mit Hilfe der Phantasie Erker, Schwibbogen, Hallen und Nischen\nzusammenstellen konnte. Dabei flimmerte und blitzte es hier und da\nsilbergleich, wo Sonnenstrahlen auffielen; dann wiederum stand das\nWasser der Stra\u00dfenkan\u00e4le still, als ob es schliefe, und es war dabei so\nschauerlich \u00f6de in der Eisstadt, da\u00df es uns unheimlich wurde, wie unter\nRuinen.\nDie Schiffsmannschaft dr\u00e4ngte zur Umkehr, obschon der Wind wieder\nheftig vom Kap herwehte. Ich lie\u00df also wenden. Aber wer beschreibt\nunsern Schrecken, als wir uns von einem breiten Eisg\u00fcrtel\neingeschlossen fanden! Der Wind hatte Schollen und Eisberge\nzusammengetrieben, diese waren aneinander gefroren und bildeten nun ein\nEisband von etwa einer Viertelstunde Breite, denn jenseits sahen wir\noffenes Meer, hinter uns aber in der Ferne eine unabsehbare Eiswand.\nWas war zu thun? Wir sa\u00dfen in einem kleinen Wasserbecken gefangen,\nrings umschlossen von Eis -- und wie lange wird unser Becken eisfrei\nbleiben?\nIch beratschlagte mit Wilm, was zu thun sei. Da erinnerte ich mich,\nin einem alten Schiffsbuche gelesen zu haben, wie man sich in\nsolchen F\u00e4llen zu helfen pflege. Weil das alte Eis m\u00fcrbe, das junge\nzusammengekittete aber noch schwach ist, so kann man sich einen\nDurchgang brechen, indem man mit dem Vorderbug des Schiffes gegen das\nEis anl\u00e4uft, oder indem man mit S\u00e4ge und Beil einen Kanal durch das Eis\nschl\u00e4gt.\nWir beschlossen letzteres Mittel anzuwenden und sandten daher einen\nTeil der Leute aufs Eis, um das junge Eis zu zertr\u00fcmmern und die\nEisschollen verschiebbar zu machen. Die andern mu\u00dften das Schiff etwas\nzur\u00fcckleiten, dann es gegen das Eis anrennen lassen, um den Verband des\nEises zu lockern und die entstandenen Spr\u00fcnge zu erweitern. Die Arbeit\nwar sehr m\u00fchselig, aber erfolgreich; gegen Mittag hatten wir unser\nFahrzeug fast um eine ganze Schiffsl\u00e4nge in den Eisg\u00fcrtel eingezw\u00e4ngt,\nder nach allen Seiten hin Risse und Spr\u00fcnge zeigte, wodurch die Arbeit\nimmer leichter vor sich ging. Wir bekamen allesamt frischen Mut und\narbeiteten um so eifriger. Da sprang der Wind pl\u00f6tzlich um und wehte\nsehr heftig von S\u00fcden her, da\u00df die Wellen an den Eisg\u00fcrtel brandend\nanschlugen, dieser zugleich zu krachen und zu bersten anfing, Spalten\nhin und her aufklafften und Eisinseln entstanden. Daher wurden die\nArbeiter noch rechtzeitig aufs Schiff zur\u00fcckgerufen, welches gerade\neine R\u00fcckw\u00e4rtsbewegung machte, um zu einem neuen Anlauf auszuholen.\nMit M\u00fche gelang es, die Matrosen mittels zugeworfener Taue aufs Schiff\nzur\u00fcckzuschaffen; denn bereits erweiterten sich die Spalten und es\nrannten die Eisschollen so heftig aneinander, da\u00df sich das Boot mit den\nLeuten nicht dazwischen wagen durfte.\nWir z\u00e4hlten unsre Leute, und siehe, es fehlte Andreas noch. Wir riefen\nnach ihm und feuerten eine Kanone ab, endlich kam auch er hinter einer\nScholle hervor, wo er gearbeitet hatte. Mittlerweile aber war zu unserm\nSchrecken unser Schiff immer weiter ins offene Becken zur\u00fcckgewichen,\nund so hatte es sich mehr und mehr von unserm armen Gef\u00e4hrten entfernt.\nDa stand denn dieser h\u00e4nderingend auf schwankender Eisscholle, mir\nnoch nahe genug, um sein Wehgeschrei zu h\u00f6ren! Doch war ich nicht im\nstande, ihn zu retten! Jammernd reckte er die Arme empor, rannte vor-\nund r\u00fcckw\u00e4rts, st\u00fcrzte nieder und sprang wieder auf, aber immer weiter\ntrieben uns die Wasserkan\u00e4le auseinander -- ach, wir konnten ihm nicht\nhelfen, denn l\u00e4ngst schon konnte ihn das geworfene Tau nicht mehr\nerreichen. Das Herz wollte mir zerspringen, als ich den Untergang eines\nbraven Kameraden vor mir sah, ohne zu seiner Rettung etwas Weiteres\nunternehmen zu k\u00f6nnen; aber mir stand die Gef\u00e4hrdung des Lebens *aller*\nvor Augen -- dies entschied. Wir segelten in die breiten Kan\u00e4le des\nzerborstenen Eisg\u00fcrtels hinein, winkten dem Ungl\u00fccklichen lebewohl\nund lie\u00dfen ihn auf einer treibenden Scholle im Sturm und bei hohem\nWellengange zur\u00fcck.\nDiese aufregende Szene geh\u00f6rt mit zu dem Entsetzlichsten, was ich\njemals erlebt habe. Indes darf sich der Leser mit mir dar\u00fcber freuen,\nda\u00df der brave Andreas doch noch auf wunderbare Weise gerettet\nwurde. Ich fand ihn wohlbehalten in Kanton wieder, wo er mit einem\nholl\u00e4ndischen Schiffe angekommen war; hier erz\u00e4hlte er mir alsdann\nseine unerwartete Rettung.\nAls er uns davonfahren sah, ergriff ihn Verzweiflung. Er warf sich\nnieder auf das Eis und schrie aus tiefstem Herzensgrunde. Endlich\nraffte er sich auf, um sich ins Meer zu st\u00fcrzen, da er der Meinung war,\nein schneller Tod sei dem langsameren Untergange vorzuziehen. Sowie er\naber an den Eisrand trat, erwachte die Hoffnung von neuem. Zum Sterben\nist noch immer Zeit, sagte er sich und sann auf Mittel zur Rettung.\nDa Wind und Str\u00f6mung die Eismassen nach Norden trieben, so suchte\ner auf diese Seite zu gelangen und w\u00e4hlte sich eine gro\u00dfe Scholle\ndauerhaften Eises zum Fahrzeuge. In der Mitte und hinter Eish\u00fcgeln grub\ner sich eine Vertiefung, die sein Lager bilden sollte. Alles Weitere\n\u00fcberlie\u00df er dem Schicksale. Er trieb ein, zwei, drei Tage, ohne etwas\nandres als Schollen zu sehen. Hunger und Durst peinigten ihn, und er\nsuchte Eis zu verschlucken, um den Durst zu l\u00f6schen; schlie\u00dflich\naber kam er auf den praktischen Gedanken, geschmolzenes Schnee- und\nEiswasser in kleinen Gruben zu sammeln und diese als Zisternen zu\nbenutzen. Die Nachtk\u00e4lte fiel ihm zwar sehr l\u00e4stig, aber er suchte sie\ndurch Auf- und Abgehen zu \u00fcberwinden. Da erhielt er auch Gesellschaft.\nEine Robbenfamilie, bestehend aus drei Mitgliedern, legte sich zum\nSchlaf nieder und blieb, da sie wohl noch nie einen Menschen gesehen\nhatte, arglos in seiner N\u00e4he. Er konnte sie mit dem Beile erschlagen.\nDie H\u00e4ute kamen ihm sehr zu statten. Das Fleisch mu\u00dfte er freilich roh\nessen, doch klopfte er es zuvor mit dem Beilstiele m\u00fcrbe und war am\nEnde froh, \u00fcberhaupt Nahrung zu erhalten. Sogar der Thran mundete ihm.\nDie Scholle wurde inzwischen bedenklich kleiner, je weiter sie nach\nNorden vorr\u00fcckte, blieb aber doch noch gro\u00df genug, ihn zu tragen. Nach\nmehreren Tagen n\u00e4herte sie sich einer Inselklippe, wo sie strandete\nund ihren Bewohner ans Land warf, den etliche Tage darauf ein Schoner\ngewahrte und mit nach Kanton nahm.\nNun komme ich wieder auf meine eigene Fahrt zur\u00fcck. Wir arbeiteten uns\nim Zickzack gl\u00fccklich durch die Kan\u00e4le des Eisg\u00fcrtels hindurch und\nerreichten das offene Meer. Der starke Wind trieb uns nach Norden bis\nan die K\u00fcste von Madagaskar.\nObschon wir zuerst uns ganz freundlich von den Madegassen begr\u00fc\u00dft\nsahen, so gerieten doch unsre Leute beim Austausch von Messern und\nandern Kleinigkeiten gegen frisches Fleisch bald in H\u00e4ndel mit ihnen,\nwobei einer der Matrosen das Leben einb\u00fc\u00dfte. Um diesen zu r\u00e4chen,\ndrangen unsre Leute in einige umliegende D\u00f6rfer, verbrannten sie und\nerschlugen mehrere Eingeborene. -- Da eilte ich den Unbesonnenen nach,\num zu retten, was noch gerettet werden konnte; ich besch\u00fctzte M\u00e4nner\nund Frauen, welchen fortan niemand mehr ein Leid anthun durfte.\nAus jenen Tagen blieb mir namentlich eine Szene unverge\u00dflich. Die\nMatrosen hatten in der Morgenfr\u00fche ein Dorf angez\u00fcndet, \u00fcber dessen\nRohrd\u00e4cher das Feuer prasselnd dahinz\u00fcngelte, so da\u00df die Einwohner\ngezwungen waren, ihre Verstecke zu verlassen. Hierbei liefen viele\nden Angreifern geradezu in die H\u00e4nde, und es begann ein entsetzliches\nNiedermetzeln.\nAls ich in der D\u00e4mmerung die roten Feuers\u00e4ulen am tiefdunklen Himmel\naufsteigen sah, ergriff mich eine be\u00e4ngstigende Vorahnung dessen, was\nvorgefallen sein m\u00f6chte. Von einigen bewaffneten Matrosen begleitet,\neilte ich in einem Boote ans Ufer und dem Dorfe zu, woher der L\u00e4rm\nerscholl. Je n\u00e4her wir kamen, um so deutlicher h\u00f6rten wir das\nJammern und Heulen der Ungl\u00fccklichen. Kaum hat jemals ein Gefecht so\nersch\u00fctternden Eindruck auf mich gemacht als diese Blutthat. Gierig\nw\u00fcteten die Flammen, aber noch grimmiger hausten, wie W\u00fcrgengel, die\nm\u00f6rderischen Matrosen. Dieser Anblick verwirrte meine Sinne: ich\nstand da, regungslos, starr vor Entsetzen. Da flohen drei Weiber\nunter lautem Wehgeschrei eilends an uns vor\u00fcber, hinterdrein 12 bis\n15 Madegassen, verfolgt von unsern Leuten, die dareinfeuerten, so\nda\u00df einer der Fl\u00fcchtlinge tot niederst\u00fcrzte und mehrere verwundet\nhinsanken. Die Fliehenden glaubten in uns neue Verfolger zu finden und\nstie\u00dfen ein herzzerrei\u00dfendes Geschrei der Verzweiflung aus. Es kostete\nmir viel M\u00fche, ihnen durch Zeichen anzudeuten, da\u00df wir ihnen kein Leid\nzuf\u00fcgen, sondern sie sch\u00fctzen wollten. Z\u00f6gernd n\u00e4herten sie sich uns,\nwarfen sich vor mir nieder, hingen sich an meine Arme und baten mit\nBlicken um Rettung. Ich nahm mich ihrer an, wies mit ernsten Worten\nihre Verfolger zur\u00fcck, welche nicht begreifen konnten, wie ich dazu\nk\u00e4me, sie an dem Rachewerke zu hindern, zumal sie meinten, Heiden zu\nt\u00f6ten sei kein Verbrechen. Murrend umstanden mich die Matrosen, aber\nzuletzt gehorchten sie doch. Die Fl\u00fcchtlinge waren gerettet; die Blicke\ndes Dankes, mit denen sie mich ansahen, werden mir ewig unverge\u00dflich\nbleiben.\n[Illustration: Robinson besch\u00fctzt die verfolgten Frauen der Madegassen.]\nIch befahl meinen Leuten, auf das Schiff zur\u00fcckzukehren, und segelte\ndann eilends davon; aber kaum besser als in Madagaskar erging es uns\nan der K\u00fcste im Persischen Meerbusen, wohin wir uns wandten. Arabische\nSeer\u00e4uber griffen uns an, und nur mit M\u00fche gelang es uns zu entrinnen.\nIch konnte mich nicht enthalten, *diesen* \u00dcberfall als eine Strafe\nzu bezeichnen, welche Gott f\u00fcr das grausame Blutbad von Madagaskar\n\u00fcber uns verh\u00e4ngt habe; allein ich fand nur geringes Geh\u00f6r bei der\nSchiffsmannschaft, und die schon gereizte Stimmung wurde nicht besser.\nDa nahm ich mir vor, sobald sich zu einer passenden Landung M\u00f6glichkeit\nb\u00f6te, die Mannschaft zu entlassen und neue Leute anzuwerben, vielleicht\nauch ein neues Schiff f\u00fcr mein altes einzutauschen. In diesem\nEntschlusse wurde ich noch mehr best\u00e4rkt, als mir der Superkargo im\nVertrauen mitteilte, da\u00df der Ausbruch einer Meuterei zu bef\u00fcrchten sei,\nwenn ich es nicht vorz\u00f6ge, bis zur Landung lieber gute Miene zum b\u00f6sen\nSpiel zu machen. Dies geschah denn auch, und wir kamen ohne weiteren\nZwischenfall nach Surate. Hier gl\u00fcckte es mir, Korallen gegen Perlen\nund Edelsteine einzutauschen. Dann segelten wir nach Borneo, mu\u00dften\nuns aber unterwegs wiederholt mit Seer\u00e4ubern herumschlagen, denen\nwir weitere nicht unansehnliche Vorr\u00e4te an Perlen und Gold abnahmen.\nEtliche Zeit darauf landeten wir in einer kleinen Bucht Siams.\nDas Schiff zeigte sich in der That stark mitgenommen. Da ich nun in\nChina und vielleicht selbst in Japan Waren einzuhandeln gedachte, so\nsuchte ich das Fahrzeug zu verkaufen und ein andres daf\u00fcr zu erwerben.\nDoch ging dies nicht so rasch. Endlich meldete sich ein Portugiese,\nerz\u00e4hlte mir ein langes und breites von seinem Schnellsegler und bot\nmir einen Austausch unsrer Schiffe an. Ich besah das seinige, fand\nes ger\u00e4umig und die Summe gering, die ich noch herauszahlen sollte;\nich schlo\u00df daher den Handel ab. Zwar fielen mir der billige Preis und\ndie Eile, welche der Portugiese zeigte, etwas auf. Da jedoch seine\nPapiere in Ordnung waren, so brachte ich den Handel zum Abschlu\u00df. Bald\nwaren die Schiffe umgeladen, und noch an demselben Abend segelte der\nPortugiese ab, der auch einen Teil meiner Mannschaft erworben hatte,\nweil er direkt nach Portugal und England zu reisen versprach. Ich\nmu\u00dfte also Matrosen werben, doch konnte das in einem belebten Hafen\nleicht ausgef\u00fchrt werden. Hierbei sollte ich nun erfahren, warum der\nschlaue Portugiese beim Tauschen der Schiffe so gro\u00dfe Eile hatte. Sein\nSchiff hie\u00df n\u00e4mlich das \u00bbGespensterschiff\u00ab und war in ganz S\u00fcdasien in\nVerruf, weil Geister in demselben umgehen sollten, weshalb kein Matrose\nso leicht auf demselben Dienste nahm. Infolge der unzureichenden\nBemannung hatten auch schon Seer\u00e4uber, welche das Fahrzeug \u00fcberfielen,\nleichtes Spiel gehabt. Sie pl\u00fcnderten es aus, nachdem sie die Matrosen\nniedergemetzelt hatten, und \u00fcberlie\u00dfen dann das Schiff den Wellen.\n\u00d6de und verlassen fand es ein englisches Kriegsschiff, welches sich\nseiner bem\u00e4chtigte, es in einen Hafen brachte und dort verkaufte.\nIndessen wurde bald ruchbar, da\u00df die Geister der Ermordeten in der\nMitternachtsstunde \u00e4chzend auf dem Schiffe umgehen sollten, was die\nMatrosen mit Grauen erf\u00fcllte, weshalb jeder das Schiff mied. So\nerz\u00e4hlten sich die Matrosen.\nZwar glaubte ich nicht an diesen Gespensterspuk, aber die Sache deuchte\nmich doch recht widrig, denn es schien ganz so, als sollte mein Schiff\nunbemannt bleiben. Endlich meldete sich ein gro\u00dfer, kr\u00e4ftiger Mann als\nSteuermann und versicherte, da\u00df er den unheimlichen Ruf des Schiffes\nkenne, sich aber vor Gespenstern nicht f\u00fcrchte, und da\u00df es ihm auch\ngelingen w\u00fcrde, noch mehrere unverzagte Kameraden anzuwerben. Mir fiel\nein Stein vom Herzen, und ich gab ihm Vollmacht und Geld, damit er\nsein Versprechen schnell ausf\u00fchren k\u00f6nnte. Nach etwa acht Tagen war\nalles in Ordnung gebracht, und wir stachen in See, um nach Nanking zu\nsegeln. Alle waren neugierig, wie es mit dem Gespensterbesuche kommen\nwerde. Nicht ohne Bangen erwarteten die Matrosen die erste Mitternacht,\ndenn bei den meisten war der Mund tapferer als das Herz, und so recht\ngeheuer kam ihnen die Sache doch nicht vor, je mehr Spukgeschichten\nsie sich erz\u00e4hlten. Die erste Nacht verging ruhig, auch die zweite und\ndritte. Kein Gespenst lie\u00df sich sehen, und man fing bereits an, sich\n\u00fcber die Sache lustig zu machen. Anders erging es am vierten Tage; denn\nam Morgen erz\u00e4hlte die Deckwache, sie habe das Gespenst gesehen, wie es\ndie Falltreppe heraufgestiegen, unh\u00f6rbar \u00fcber das Deck geschwebt und an\nder andern Treppe wieder lautlos verschwunden sei.\nDieser Vorfall beunruhigte alle, denn der Erz\u00e4hler galt f\u00fcr einen\nbeherzten Matrosen. Nun erschien das Gespenst bald diesem, bald jenem;\nheute st\u00f6hnte es, morgen klirrte es mit scharfen Messern, bald erschien\nes in wei\u00dfer, bald in schwarzer Tracht. Keiner wagte es anzureden oder\ngar anzuhalten, denn an einem Geiste wollte sich niemand vergreifen,\nda man von dem Wahn befangen war, da\u00df schon der Blick eines Gespenstes\nt\u00f6dlich wirkte. Zuletzt gestand auch der Steuermann, da\u00df ihm das\nGespenst erschienen sei, so da\u00df an dessen Dasein nicht zu zweifeln\nwar. Die Sache wurde mit jedem Tage bedenklicher; denn wo die Matrosen\nstanden und sa\u00dfen, erz\u00e4hlten sie sich Geistergeschichten, von denen\neine phantastischer war als die andre.\nVergeblich suchte ich die Matrosen zu \u00fcberzeugen, da\u00df es keine\nGespenster g\u00e4be; man entgegnete mir stets, da\u00df sich niemand das\nabstreiten lasse, was er mit eignen Augen gesehen habe. Schlie\u00dflich\nerschien auch mir selbst das Gespenst.\nEines Nachts \u00f6ffnete sich leise die Th\u00fcr, ein grauer Schatten schwebte\nherein und durch das Zimmer, um auf der andern Seite schnell wieder\nzu verschwinden. Nun hatte ich also das Gespenst selbst gesehen und\nkonnte dessen Dasein nicht mehr bestreiten. Ich wollte und mu\u00dfte\nder Sache auf die Spur kommen, versah mich also f\u00fcr den n\u00e4chsten\nAbend mit einer Pistole und einem Dolchmesser, um zu versuchen, ob\ndas Gespenst auch unverwundbar sei. Mit Unruhe erwartete ich die\nMitternacht; das aufgehende Mondviertel warf einen blassen Schein\ndurch das Kaj\u00fcttenfenster auf einige Stellen der Kaj\u00fctte, deren Th\u00fcr\nich ge\u00f6ffnet hatte. Siehe, da hob sich drau\u00dfen die Falltreppe, ein\ngrauer Schatten stieg empor, trat in die Kaj\u00fctte und schritt gerade\nauf mein Bett zu. Da wurde mir doch etwas bange zu Mute, es flimmerte\nmir vor den Augen, ich verga\u00df Pistole und Dolch, f\u00fchlte den Hauch des\nGespenstes, welches sich \u00fcber mich beugte, und die Sinne begannen mir\nzu schwinden. In diesem Augenblicke ergriff mich ein verzweifelter\nMut: ich fa\u00dfte nach der Kehle des Gespenstes, und siehe da, ich hatte\netwas Festes in der Hand, und zwar einen Geist, der Fleisch und Knochen\nhatte. Das Gespenst wollte sich losrei\u00dfen. Ich aber sprang aus dem\nBett, ergriff die Pistole und befahl dem erschreckten Gespenst, sich\nnicht von der Stelle zu r\u00fchren. Dann rief ich die Wache herbei, welche\nnicht wenig erstaunt war, als sie den Geist vor mir knieen sah und um\nsein Leben bitten h\u00f6rte. Sogleich wurde ein Verh\u00f6r angestellt, und es\nergab sich, da\u00df das Gespenst ein verurteilter Verbrecher war, welcher\nsich bei Nacht in das Schiff gefl\u00fcchtet hatte, um der Verfolgung und\nStrafe zu entgehen. Am Tage hielt er sich zwischen Kisten und Balken\ndes untersten Schiffsraumes verborgen, des Nachts aber suchte er die\nnotwendigen Nahrungsmittel zusammenzubringen. Um auf seinen Rundg\u00e4ngen\nnicht angehalten zu werden, spielte er die Rolle des Gespenstes.\nSolchergestalt hoffte er den n\u00e4chsten Hafen zu erreichen und dann\nzu entschl\u00fcpfen. Wir mu\u00dften allesamt herzlich lachen, als sich die\nfurchtbaren Gespenstergeschichten in Diebst\u00e4hle von Brotrinden und\nFleischresten verwandelten. Obschon der Kerl den Tod verdient hatte, so\nversprach ich doch, seiner zu schonen, schon weil das Gespenst aus Not\nnun selbst die Matrosen von dem Wahne des Gespensterglaubens geheilt\nhatte.\nMittlerweile hatten wir uns der K\u00fcste von Kochinchina gen\u00e4hert und\nwarfen dort gegen\u00fcber der M\u00fcndung des Flusses die Anker aus, zumal\nunser Schiff, das etwas leck geworden war, einer Ausbesserung bedurfte.\nWir fanden das Land von rohen Menschen bewohnt, die Raub und Diebstahl\nganz handwerksm\u00e4\u00dfig betrieben und es ganz ungescheut versuchten, unser\nSchiff zu bestehlen. Doch wir hielten stand, und nach einem sehr\nheftigen Handgemenge zogen die Kochinchinesen ab, wonach wir durch\nweitere Besuche von ihnen nicht mehr bel\u00e4stigt wurden.\nNachdem das Schiff wieder segelfertig gemacht war, nahmen wir unsern\nKurs gegen Nordost, dann direkt nach Nord, vor\u00fcber an einer sch\u00f6nen\nInsel (Formosa?), in der Absicht, \u00fcber Kanton nach Nanking zu segeln.\nHier kamen wir nach zwei Wochen gl\u00fccklich an und besahen uns diesen\nwichtigen Hafenplatz nach allen Richtungen. Dann unternahmen wir,\nallerdings mehr aus Neugierde, als um Gesch\u00e4fte zu machen, kleinere wie\ngr\u00f6\u00dfere Reisen ins Innere des Landes.\nVon Nanking aus, wo wir uns mit den n\u00f6tigen Reisebed\u00fcrfnissen\nversahen, schlugen wir die Richtung nach der n\u00f6rdlichen Hauptstadt\ndes himmlischen Reiches ein. Diese Reise, welche wir teils zu Lande,\nteils zu Wasser zur\u00fccklegten, dauerte 25 Tage. Wir fanden \u00fcberall\ndas Land stark bev\u00f6lkert und wohl angebaut, die Stra\u00dfen und Wege in\ngutem Zustande. Endlich kamen wir in Peking an, ohne da\u00df uns etwas\nAbsonderliches widerfahren w\u00e4re. Leider konnten wir uns in der Stadt\nnicht lange umsehen, denn wir erfuhren, da\u00df die russische Karawane, an\nwelche ich mich mit dem Pr\u00e4riej\u00e4ger anschlie\u00dfen wollte, schon binnen\nzwei Tagen aufbrechen werde. Bald hatten wir die fast endlose Stadt mit\nihrer dreifachen turmreichen Umfassungsmauer und ihren unabsehbaren\nStra\u00dfen im R\u00fccken.\nNachdem wir China durchwandert, dann auch in Sibirien einen\nWinteraufenthalt genommen hatten, regte sich in mir das Verlangen,\nEngland baldigst wiederzusehen; ich benutzte also die erste\nGelegenheit, mich nach London einzuschiffen, wo ich am 10. Januar 1705\nnach mehrj\u00e4hriger Abwesenheit wohlbehalten eintraf.\nDoch sollte es vorher nicht ohne ein kleines Abenteuer abgehen. Es\nwar in Hamburg. Damals befand sich ganz Europa in Krieg wegen der\nspanischen Thronfolge. Die Russen, D\u00e4nen und Sachsen k\u00e4mpften mit den\nSchweden, und England, Holland, \u00d6sterreich und Italien mit Frankreich.\nMan brauchte viel Soldaten, warb daher junge Mannschaft oder raubte\nsie, wenn sie nicht freiwillig kommen wollten, mit Gewalt. Wir waren\nbereits auf dem Schiffe, konnten aber widriger Winde halber den Hafen\nnicht verlassen. Da sahen wir einen jungen Mann in ein Boot steigen,\nnach unserm Schiff rudern und auf dasselbe steigen. Vor dem Kapit\u00e4n\nangekommen, bat er dringend um dessen Schutz. Er sagte, er sei ein\nStudent aus Sachsen, habe eine Ferienreise machen wollen, sei aber von\nWerbern \u00fcberfallen und fortgeschleppt worden, um in ein schwedisches\nRegiment gesteckt zu werden. Er habe durchaus keine Lust zum\nKriegsdienste, sei entflohen und werde von der hamburgischen Polizei\nverfolgt. Nur in England glaube er auf Schutz rechnen zu d\u00fcrfen und\nbitte daher, ihn mitzunehmen. Einige Fragen \u00fcberzeugten den Kapit\u00e4n\nvon der Wahrheit der Aussage. Es schmeichelte unserm Stolze, da\u00df ein\nenglisches Schiff Zufluchtsst\u00e4tte f\u00fcr unschuldig Verfolgte werden\nk\u00f6nne. Wir wehrten seinen Verfolgern daher den Zutritt zum Schiffe,\nund w\u00e4hrend des langen Unterhandelns drehte sich der Wind; alsbald\nfuhren wir ab und nahmen unsern Sch\u00fctzling mit nach England, von wo er\nsp\u00e4ter wohlbehalten \u00fcber Holland heimgekehrt sein soll.\nMeine Gesch\u00e4ftsfreunde, welche ich aufsuchte, gaben mir befriedigende\nAuskunft \u00fcber mein zur\u00fcckgelassenes Verm\u00f6gen. W\u00e4hrend mein letzter\nGesch\u00e4ftsgenosse, Herr Wilson, noch in r\u00fcstigem Mannesalter nach\nBengalen zur\u00fcckkehrte, um dort durch Handelsgesch\u00e4fte sein Verm\u00f6gen\nzu mehren, legte ich endlich, jetzt ein 72j\u00e4hriger Greis, meinen\nWanderstab nieder, um bei meinen beiden Kindern, die mir Gott gesund\nerhalten hatte, den Rest meiner Tage in Ruhe und Frieden zu beschlie\u00dfen\nund mich auf jene letzte Reise vorzubereiten, deren Ziel der Himmel ist.\nEnde.\n                  Der junge Handwerker und K\u00fcnstler.\n                  Herstellung n\u00fctzlicher Gegenst\u00e4nde\n            aus Papier, Pappe, Holz, Gips, Metall u. s. w.\n                      sowie zum Photographieren.\n                Mit 580 Text-Abbildungen und 5 Tafeln.\n\u00bbDer junge Handwerker und K\u00fcnstler\u00ab ist bestimmt, in umfassendster\nWeise das heutzutage allerorten zu Tage tretende Bestreben zu\nunterst\u00fctzen, die in der Jugend schlummernde Neigung zur *Aus\u00fcbung\nvon Handfertigkeiten* zu heben und die Beth\u00e4tigung solcher\nGeschicklichkeiten auf die Herstellung n\u00fctzlicher Dinge \u00fcberzuleiten.\nDer Inhalt ist ein au\u00dferordentlich reichhaltiger, insbesondere ist auch\nder heute in weitesten Kreisen verbreiteten und beliebten Kunst des\n*Photographierens* ein besonderer Abschnitt gewidmet.\n              Besch\u00e4ftigungsbuch f\u00fcr die reifere Jugend.\n                    Anleitung zum Experimentieren,\n    Anlegen von Sammlungen, sowie zur Pflege der Haustiere und des\n        Zugleich 5. Auflage von \u00bb*Der gelehrte Spielkamerad*\u00ab.\n         Gebunden 5 M.      Wagner-Freyer.      Gebunden 5 M.\n              Mit 300 in den Text gedruckten Abbildungen.\nDas \u00bbBesch\u00e4ftigungsbuch\u00ab ist der *geistigen Th\u00e4tigkeit* der Jugend\ngewidmet und soll unter Anwendung ungef\u00e4hrlicher Hilfsmittel zum\n*Experimentieren*, zur Anlage von Sammlungen u. dergl. anregen. -- Die\nspielende Besch\u00e4ftigung ist die praktische Verwertung des Unterrichts,\nsie verhilft demselben, indem sie die erforderliche Abwechselung\nbietet, zu dem erstrebten dauernden Nutzen.\nDie zahlreich beigegebenen Abbildungen sind so gew\u00e4hlt, da\u00df sie das\nVerst\u00e4ndnis des Textes trefflich f\u00f6rdern.\n[Illustration: Der Blitzschlag ins Schiff.]\n                 Verlag von *Otto Spamer* in Leipzig.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Robinson Crusoe's Reisen, wunderbare Abenteuer und Erlebnisse\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " Latin\n", "content": "Note: this eBook differs notably from the original printed \nversion and the first eBook version published on the Gutenberg \nProject. \nThis \u201cupgrade\u201d is intended to be faithful to the original \npurpose of the book: \u201cto lighten tedium to a learner\u201d, but \nanswering to the modern needs. \nPlease check the edition notes. \n                      ROBINSON CRUSOE, IN LATIN;\n                       A BOOK TO LIGHTEN TEDIUM\n                        FRANCIS WILLIAM NEWMAN,\n      EMERITUS PROFESSOR OF LATIN IN UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON;\n             HONORARY FELLOW OF WORCESTER COLLEGE, OXFORD.\n               PRINTED BY STEVENSON, BAILEY, AND SMITH,\nPREFACE. \nThis book was composed when the writer was a Professor of Latin, \nas part of a larger scheme. He has long been convinced that the \nmode of teaching Latin has become less and less effective in \nproportion as it has been made more and more scientific. The \neffort has been general to confine the pupil to the most \nelaborate styles and the most approved classics, and the \nexercise of memory has been superseded by minute accuracy in the \nstudy of very limited pieces. In the natural mode we have \nenormous endless repetition and much learning of the names of \nthings. We begin with short sentences and a very limited number \nof verbs; and we learn with the least possible number of rules. \nIf we could talk in Latin, that would be of all best; but as we \ncannot get exercise in talking it for practical needs, no \nteacher can hope to gain adequate readiness and facility: or if \na few might, yet this could not be counted on in any general \nsystem. It has long been my conviction that we ought to seek to \nlearn a language first, and study its characteristic literature \nafterward. Greek and Latin literature plunge us into numerous \ndifficulties all at once, inasmuch as their politics, their \nhistory, their geography and their religion are all strange to \nthe young student. To take difficulties one by one is obvious \nwisdom; and with a view to this I elaborately maintained in an \narticle of the Museum (No. iv., Jan., 1862, Edinburgh) that we \nought to teach by modern Latin. As parts of such a system I have \nexecuted and published a Latin \u201cHiawatha,\u201d and Latin Verse \nTranslations of many small pieces of English poetry. If I could \nwrite Latin conversations that would interest learners, I should \ngladly have undertaken this: but when I tried, I could not \ninvent matter that seemed interesting enough. This indeed is my \nobjection to Erasmus\u2019s \u201cColloquies,\u201d which also are not easy \nenough in idiom to satisfy me. This \u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d I thought \nI could make very interesting, and it includes a far greater \nvariety of vocabulary than can be obtained from any of our \nreceived classics of the same length. I hope also the style is \neasy. \nI surely need not apologize for taking only the general idea \nfrom Defoe. His tale is far too diffuse, too full of moralizing \nand with too little variety. He was very ignorant of the Botany \nand Zoology of the tropics, and when his tale is faithfully \nabridged, its impossibilities become too glaring. The Arabic \n\u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d published by the Church Missionary Society \ncuts down Defoe\u2019s story unmercifully. \nI am indebted to my former colleague, the late Professor T. \nHewitt Key, for the translation of Robinson into the name \nRebilius. He also approved of Ignipulta for a gun, not as \nstrictly grammatical, but as good enough to pass with Latins who \nwere familiar with the word Catapulta. From him also I adopted \nCannones, for cannons, and Pistola a pistol. The word Canna, a \ncane (or hollow tube) seems to be the root of Cann\u0304on, a tube or \ncannon, in Spanish, whence the American can\u0304on for a tunnel, or \nlarger tube. \nAfter I had executed my own Rebilius (finally completed in \n1861), I learned that a Frenchman, Goffaux, had published a \n\u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d in Latin and French. On discovering this, I \nstopped the printing which I had begun, and after some delay \nsucceeded in getting the book. But on perusing it I found his \nprinciples of remodelling the tale to be fundamentally the \nopposite of mine, concerning which I need not enlarge. I like \nhis Latin, yet do not think his book supersedes mine. But if \nteachers can practically use his with advantage, I shall be well \nsatisfied. \nI wish here to renew my protest, that no accuracy of reading \nsmall portions of Latin will ever be so effective as extensive \nreading; and to make extensive reading possible to the many, the \nstyle ought to be very easy and the matter attractive. To enable \nus to talk, we ought to have a vocabulary that includes all \nfamiliar objects,\u2014which the Classics of our schools cannot give \nus. Terence, though somewhat too difficult, would have great \nexcellencies for the learner; but the substance of his plays is \nlow, and eminently unedifying. \nIn the near future, some universal tongue will be sought for by \nthe educated. If Latin be still learned in England, France, \nItaly, Germany, Hungary, Spain, this is still, as three \ncenturies ago, the best for all Christendom. But perhaps even \nLatin will be beaten out of the schools. \nIt may be well to remark, that inasmuch as the grave accent has \nbeen very widely used in school books as indicative of an \nadverb, I adopt the mark in this sense; and think it no \nobjection to say that the Latins never so used it. Neither had \nthey our stops. We do not pretend to follow their writing in \ndetail. We usefully distinguish the vowels u i from the \nconsonants v j; they did not. What should we gain, by writing \nthe Iliad as its author wrote it? So too, I think it well \noccasionally to add long or short marks, as \u0113g\u0113re \u0115g\u0113re \u0113g\u0115re, \nv\u0113n\u0113re v\u0115n\u0115re, l\u0103t\u0113re l\u0103t\u0115re l\u0101tere, to obviate ambiguity. Nay I \nwrite fluct\u00fbs for gen. sing., fluct\u016bs for plural, but fluctus \nfor nomin. sing. When et means both or even, I set an acute \naccent over it, not doubting that it then received some \nemphasis. \nI also borrow from the marks used in Hebrew an under-parenthesis \nfor coupling words that are in grammatical union. This mark is \noften very effective in explaining the structure of complicated \nGreek sentences. \nCONTENTS. \nCHAPTER I. \n1 Robinson\u2019s parentage. 2 His first adventures. 3 His \nslavetrading voyage. 4 The shipwreck. 5 They take to the boat. 6 \nIt is swamped. 7 His narrow escape. 8 His forlorn position. 9 He \nsleeps in a tree. 10 His mental struggles. 11 The dog and long \nboat. 12 He swims to the ship. 13 Its condition. The skiff. 14 \nHe makes a raft. 15 He loads it, first with food; 16 next, with \nother necessaries. 17 He tows off the raft by the skiff. 18 \nFavouring weather. 19 It is all but wrecked. 20 He sleeps again \nin a tree. 21 His first supper. 22 He fastens the raft; 23 and \nvisits the long boat. 24 Second visit to the ship. 25 He plans a \nraft on water-tight empty boxes. 26 He carries off a few costly \narticles in the skiff; 27 and tows off whatever will float. 28 \nHe lands his train at the nearest point; 29 and explores a \nnatural harbour. 30 His dog-and-cat meat. 31 He ascertains that \nhe is in an island. 32 Its character. 33 His precaution against \npanthers. 34 He puts his first raft in safety. 35 Third visit to \nthe ship. 36 He brings away his new raft. 37 Second expedition \nthe same day.\nCHAPTER II. \n38 In future, he will write less minutely. 39 Weather changes. \n40 He goes on foot to his harbor. 41 Its cliffs and caverns. 42 \nHe bathes. 43 Sport and affection of the dog. 44 Robinson \nascends to the table land. 45 Shoots a she-antelope and wounds a \nkid. 46,7 How he deals with his booty. 48 His mental agitations. \n49 His ledger of things good and bad. 50 How he is soothed. 51 \nHe conciliates dog and cat to the kid. 52 Thirteen days\u2019 work. \n53 Why the ship had so much ammunition. 54 His search for \ncertain articles. 55 He finds iron tools; 56 and baskets of dry \nbeans; 57 and a portion of the plaid dresses. 58 He heightens \nhis skiff. 59 His device for the long boat. 60 He saves it into \nhis harbor. 61 Last visit to the ship. 62 His raft is wrecked. \n63 The ship vanishes.\nCHAPTER III. \n64 His state of feeling. 65 His affection to tame animals. 66 \nHis cooking of the beans. 67 Recovery of articles from his \nwrecked raft. 68 Details concerning the caverns. 69 Smoothness \nof their floor. 70 Solidity of their roofs. 71 Their screen of \ncactuses. 72 His bedroom and larder. 73 His manifold \nembarrassments. 74 He discovers a pure rill at hand; 75 and a \nnatural dock for the boat. 76 He hedges in a spot in the valley. \n77 He transports certain things to the caverns. 78 Numerous gay-\nhued birds. 79 Abundant vegetation. 80 Kindling materials. 81 \nTropical products. 82 The creek ends in a land stream. 83 \nNatural fruit gardens. 84 He clings to the seaside. 86 He \nrecovers the computation of time, and resumes his nautical \nmathematics. 87 How he had learned. 88 His register of lunar \nmonths.\nCHAPTER IV. \n89 How he had learned carpentry. 90 He makes a little sledge. 91 \nHe arranges his caverns. 92 His fear of wild beasts. 93 He \nadapts the ship ladder to a new use. 94 Digs a hole under his \nwindow. 95 He now feels safe. 96 On mining. 97 On his \nfamiliarity with gunpowder. 98 Removes to the caverns. 99 His \nencounter with a female antelope. 100 His two new young ones. \n101 Absence of men on the island. 102 He amasses fodder and \nimproves two cliff paths. 103 He discovers a palm grove \neastward; 104 and a forest glen aloft to N.W. 105 How he brings \ndown fuel and timber. 106 Climate of his island. 107 He rows \nround to the palm grove. 108 He cuts a young tree for boat oars.\nCHAPTER V. \n109 He arranges his armory. 110 His other apartments. 111 His \nlaundry operations. 112 Treatment of his skin and hair. 113 \nDistress from cold. 114 His leathern tippet. 115 His mat for the \nback. 116 Defence for head and cheeks in heat. 117 He shapes his \nnew oars. 118 Exercises his boat in harbor. 119 From his skiff \nhe sees a lofty mountain. 120 How he cooks waterfowl. 121 How he \ngets tame pigeons. 122 His toil in carrying. 123 His spirits \nsuddenly fail. 124 His religious agitation. 125 His tackle to \ncatch a rabbit. 126 He catches two. 126* He plaits new shoes.\nCHAPTER VI. \n127 He explores the high mountain. 128 Panorama from the summit. \n129 The mainland is on the south. 130 He discovers vine plants, \nand brings home citrons and lemons half-ripe. 131 He returns by \nan easy and natural road. 132 Joy makes him liberal. 133 \nThreefold character of the island. 134,5 He explores the hill \nwest of the creek. 136 He catches a parrot. 137 He makes a \nrabbit-hutch. 138 He reads of elephant catching. 139 He plans to \ncatch a fully-grown antelope alive. 140-2 The battle and \nvictory. 143 He catches a female alive, and two kids. 144 Steady \nmorning rains. North of the palm grove, he surveys eastward more \nof the coast; 145 with tortoises on wide sands. 146 Why he has \nno palms in his harbor. 147 Sport of the dog with the kids. 148 \nTheir swiftness. 149 Description of the antelopes. 150 He trains \nthem to the little sledge; his harness. 151 His dog learns to \nwatch the flock. 152 He trains them to his whistle. 153 His \nschemes for food. 154 His fishing. 155 His weir-net. 156. He \nmoralizes on his own character.\nCHAPTER VII. \n157 His dressing of fish. 158 His unleavened bannocks. 159 His \nhome garden. 160 His argumentation with himself. 161,2 How he is \naffected by his mother\u2019s birthday. 163 His funeral feast. 164 He \nfinishes it in the glen. 165,6 The parrot\u2019s talk. 167-9 He \nbrings home a tortoise. 170 The hull of the ship is cast up. 171 \nHe ventures upon it within the reef. 172 An ague seizes him. 173 \nHis dread of darkness; he drinks, first lemonade; 174 \nafterwards, Cinchona. 175 He gets oil and eggs from the \ntortoise. 176 He makes lampwicks. 177 The weather clears. 178 \nBirth of new kittens. 179 Other new broods. 180-2 Development of \nhis religious sentiment. 183 The Popish Prayer-book. 184 The \nlessons which he now learnt.\nCHAPTER VIII. \n185 He saws down the horns of the male antelope. 186 Use of the \nhorns. 187 He makes a drill, 188 with a bow, 189 and guide; 190 \nalso a larger sledge. 191 Deficiency of leather. 192 How he \nmakes fine ropes. 193 His small bridge. 194 His beach road. 195 \nNew kids. 196 Contrivance for picking cocoa nuts. 197 \nExperiments on leaves, pith and bark. 198,9 Migration of his \nflock. 200 He sleeps in a hammock under the sky. 201 He makes \nthe rush mat for his back. 202 His dress in the heat. 203 His \npreparation of a yam garden. 204 His siesta. 205 His raisins. \n206 New products of the soil. 207 Turpentine or Resin. 208 \nMidday with the dog. 209-11 More fruits. 212 Unsuccessful \nexpedition in the long boat. 213 He cannot return against the \nwind; 214 his distress. 215 The parrot comes to comfort him. 216 \nHe trudges home, leaving the boat. 217 He fixes the latitude; \n218 plants his kitchen garden. 219 Adds to his stores of food. \n220 Insufficiency of his store-chests. 221 His first attempt at \npottery. 222 He builds a furnace. 223 Makes huge square jars of \ncoarse pottery. 224 He sets up a target for practice. 225 His \npreserving of fruit. 226 His recovery of glass beads.\nCHAPTER IX. \n227 Two boats of black savages arrive. 228 He arms; 229 goes \nforth and views a cannibal feast. 230 A captive escapes. 231 \nRobinson shoots one pursuer dead and wounds another; 232 but \nsaves the life of the latter. 233 Binds up his wound. 234 \nAscertains that the two boats have departed. 235 He brings the \nfugitive to his caverns. 236 Returns to bury the dead; 237 and \nbring home the wounded man. 238 He tries the temper of the \nfugitive. 239 His deliberation and assumed majesty. 240 His \ncareful treatment of the fugitive (Elapsus). 241 He astonishes \nboth men with his pistols,\u2014also Elapsus with telescope and \nwatch. 242 He pours away nearly all the brandy and rum. 243 \nElapsus makes good sandals for Robinson. 244 Robinson gives him \na handsome plaid; 245 also cloaks to both. 246 He takes Elapsus \nto the scene of the murderous feast. 247 Elapsus reveals the \nvirtues of trees and shrubs, 248 and talks of Indian poultry. \n249,250 Various palms and their uses. 251 Thoughts about the \nlong boat. 252 Convalescence of Secutor. 253 Elapsus devises a \nroyal badge for Robinson. 254 Robinson accepts it; 255 and gives \na secondary badge to Elapsus. 256 Description of the two men. \n257 Elapsus is curious about work in iron. 258 Skill of both men \nin wattling and plaiting. 259 Skill of Secutor in cookery; his \nmaking of tea. 260 Why Robinson resolves to show no distrust. \n261 He teaches both the sword-exercise. 262 Armor used in it. \n263 Secutor makes new arrows. 264 Robinson plans a cross-bow. \n265 The men execute it.\nCHAPTER X. \n266 Expedition to fetch the boat. 267 Mending of the sails. 268 \nIt tacks well. 269 Elapsus pronounces it, Not yet good. 270 \nSecutor enlarges the kitchen garden. 271 Their sport in \nswimming. 272 Trial of soap-making. 273 Secutor as groom and \ngardener. 274 Reliefs for the men\u2019s toil. 275,6 Elapsus works \nbulwarks and flaps (outriggers) for the boat. 277 Robinson \nstudies how to fulfil his demands of ironwork. 278 With Elapsus \nhe makes a longer excursion on the hills. 279 Gets a view of the \nridges and under cliff on the north-east. 280 The three work \ntogether at the smithy. 281 The parrot is killed by a falcon. \nHow Elapsus comforts Robinson. 282 Diligent work during the \nrains. 283 Secutor\u2019s enmity to the rabbits. 284 Robinson\u2019s \nliterary occupation. 285 His talk with them during their work. \n286 They present him with a royal dress. 287 They try the new \nrig of the boat. 288 Petition of the two men concerning wives. \n289 Robinson\u2019s anxieties. 290 His first question. 291 Their \nfurther suggestions. 292 His fresh objections. 293 He insists on \nfirst surveying the coast.\nCHAPTER XI. \n294 Their new manufactures. 295 Robinson plays the hydrographer. \n296 Elapsus finds the rice plant. 297 They survey the west \ncoast. 298 Difficulty about currents. 299 Problem of the flock, \nsolved by Elapsus. 300 They agree to hew new oars. 301 Robinson \nclaims better missiles. 302 Their reply reproves him. 303 Their \nactivity. 304 They carry home the fruit crop. 305,6 Some account \nof their own country. 307 Calculations of Elapsus. 308 Secutor\u2019s \naccount of the late war. 309 Why neither tribe comes to the \nisland. 310 Robinson promises to sail within four days. 311 \nEnergy of Secutor. 312 Zoology of the mainland. 313 Robinson\u2019s \nfinal preparations. 314 Fate of the tame rabbits. 315 The three \nput to sea at evening; 316 and at dawn see land. 317 The two men \nresume their true names. 318 Reception by the populace. 319 The \nshooting match. 320 Sister of Gelavi; 321 also his bride. 322 \nRobinson consents to everything. 323 They are towed out with \nhonor. 324 The return voyage. 325 They land at the Garden-port. \n326 What of the flock?\nCHAPTER XII. \n327 Nuptial preparations. 328 Indian Poultry. 329 Pranks of \nthieves. 330 Nuptial ceremonies. 331 Speech of Robinson. 332 \nServices of Upis and Calefus; 333 also of Pachus. Skill of \nTotopil in snares. 334 Functions of Robinson. 335 New Pottery \nand store closet. 336 Sago, Wax, Oil, Sugar. 337 Pachus and \nCalefus undertake rice. 338 Apartments. 339 New cares of \nRobinson. 340 Retrospect of his slavery. 341 His rest on Sunday. \n342 His Sunday School. 343 His pupil teachers. 344 Materials for \npaper. 345 Religious talk with Gelavi. 346 Pachus makes needles. \n347 New ideas of Gelavi. 348 Robinson seeks explanation. 349 \nGelavi cannot satisfy him. 350 Pachus finds a stream of copper. \n351 Three persons are driven on shore in a boat. 352 Policy of \nRobinson. 353 Perplexing comment of Gelavi. 354 The strangers \ndepart. 355 Anxieties of Robinson. 356 New arrivals. 357 \nRobinson\u2019s suspicions. 358 of Gelavi and Fenis. 359 Fenis\u2019s \ndefence. 360 Robinson recovers himself. 361 His promises to \nCortops. 365 Supplementary conditions.\nCHAPTER XIII. \n366 Robinson\u2019s zeal for his own language. 367 Gelavi opposes. \n368,9 The discussion. 370 Robinson reluctantly yields. 371 He \naids Gelavi in new alphabet. 372 He trains his own family to \nfirearms. 373 Refuses to tell how to make gunpowder. 374 Pachus \nand Robinson sleep in hammocks. 375 Guns of distress. 376 \nRobinson sends to Cortops for rowers, 377 and boards the ship. \n378 The rowers tow it off the sandbank. 379 Robinson guides them \nto the creek. 380 He promises a new mast, 381 and food. 382 The \ncaptain\u2019s story. 383 He asks the longitude, 384 and promises to \ncarry Robinson to England. 385 Robinson orders food, 386 and \nshoots three wild antelopes, 387 and a pelican. 388 Cortops \ngives rice liberally. 389 The captain visits the caverns, 390 \nand accepts one dead antelope. 391 Gifts to Cortops and the \nrowers. 392 On the new mast. 393 Robinson and two men cut it. \n394 Robinson visits Cortops by appointment. 395 Secret interview \nand compact. 396 It is revealed to Pachus and Gelavi. 397 \nRobinson abdicates in favor of Cortops. 398 Cortops adopts \nGelavi as son and successor.\nCHAPTER XIV. \n399 Dispatch of business. 400 Royal gifts of Robinson to \nCortops. 401 Sudden loss of Robinson\u2019s skiff by Upis. 402 Yards \nare wanting to the mast. 403 Robinson undertakes to be ship-\ncarpenter; 404 and buys many wares of the captain as presents to \nCortops, Pachus and Calefus. 405 Great farewell on the Sunday; \n406 and solemn advice to Gelavi. 407 Final arrangements in the \nship. 408 Last gifts of Robinson. 409 The ship is wind-bound. \n410 Robinson\u2019s story of himself. 411 How he escaped from the \nMoors to Brazil. 412 Received funds from England. 413 Became \nfamiliar with his employer\u2019s sons; 414 was invited to join in \npartnership. 415 Easy liberality of the Brazilians. 416 European \nconsiderations. 417 Robinson becomes a partner. 418 Fertility of \nthe country. 419 Nature and management of his estates. 420 \nOccupation of three years. 421 His ennui in the fourth. 422 New \novertures of his partner. 423-430 Robinson consents, after faint \nresistance. 431-3 His voyage and shipwreck. 434 The weather \nchanges. 435 They are towed off. 436 The boats and Gelavi \ndepart. 437 They fall in with a ship bound for England. 438 \nRobinson sends a letter by it. 439 He reaches Jamaica. 440 \nArranges business at Brazil by letters\u2014and without further \nevents, regains his English home. \nERRATA. \nTranscriber\u2019s Note: the errata have been corrected as part of \nthe process of producing this e-text. \nSection\t8,\tline\t6\t\u2014for rersus read rursus.\n\u201d\t12,\t\u201d\t14\t\u2014for protulentam read potulentam.\n\u201d\t35,\t\u201d\t15\t\u2014for facilime read facillime.\n\u201d\t59,\t\u201d\t12\t\u2014for hue read huc.\n\u201d\t65,\t\u201d\t12\t\u2014for compertum read compertam.\n\u201d\t66,\t\u201d\t6\t\u2014for panxillulum read pauxillulum.\n\u201d\t70,\t\u201d\t3\t\u2014for t\u0103lis read tal\u012ds.\n\u201d\t91,\t\u201d\t4\t\u2014for qualicumque read qualicunque.\n\u201d\t103,\t\u201d\t8\t\u2014for explorari read explorare.\n\u201d\t216,\t\u201d\t2\t\u2014for incedentem read incedens.\n\u201d\t291,\t\u201d\t4\t\u2014for Secutorum read Secutorem.\nROBINSON CRUSOE.\nREBILI\u012a CR\u016aS\u014cNIS ANN\u0100L\u0112S. \nCAPUT PR\u012aMUM. \n1. N\u0101tus sum ego Ebor\u0101c\u012b, ex bon\u0101 famili\u0101, sed peregr\u012bn\u0101: quippe \npater meus Germ\u0101nus fuit \u0113 Br\u0113m\u0101, ubi appell\u0101b\u0101tur Kreutznaer. \nC\u0113terum per merc\u0101t\u016bram d\u012bves factus, Ebor\u0101c\u012b c\u014dns\u0113dit, unde \nrec\u0113pit in conn\u016bbium m\u0101trem meam. Ex hujus agn\u0101t\u012bs praen\u014dmen \nmihi Rebilius, ex patre n\u014dmen Kreutznaer inditum est. Sed vulgus \nhominum, facil\u012b corrupt\u0113l\u0101, Cr\u016bs\u014dnem m\u0113 Rebilium appell\u0101bat. \nTertius eram f\u012blius familiae. Fr\u0101ter maximus, trib\u016bnus m\u012blitum, \ncum Hisp\u0101n\u012bs proeli\u014d congressus, ad Dunquercam occubuit. Fr\u0101ter \nproximus, s\u012bcut ego quoque poste\u0101, incertum qu\u014dmodo, \u0113v\u0101nuit. M\u0113 \nquidem pater, d\u012bligenter \u012bnstit\u016btum, j\u016bris l\u0113gumque studi\u012bs \nd\u0113stin\u0101bat: sed, f\u0101t\u0101l\u012b qu\u014ddam m\u014dt\u016b, nihil mihi arr\u012bd\u0113bat, nisi \nut mar\u012b oberr\u0101rem. \n2. Pr\u012bm\u0101 in juvent\u0101 clam patrem \u0113v\u0101s\u012b nauta. Curs\u016b mox f\u0113l\u012bc\u012b \ncum magistr\u014d n\u0101vis h\u016bm\u0101nissim\u014d ad Guineam \u0100fricae n\u0101vig\u0101v\u012b. \nAlter\u014d in curs\u016b \u0101 Maur\u012bs p\u012br\u0101t\u012bs captus sum, et per quattuor \nfer\u0113 ann\u014ds d\u016bram serv\u012bv\u012b servit\u016btem. Inde m\u012br\u0101cul\u014d aud\u0101ciae \n\u0113l\u0101psus, in L\u016bsit\u0101n\u0101 qu\u0101dam n\u0101ve ad Braz\u012bliam sum d\u0113vectus, ubi \ncol\u014dn\u014d cuidam tr\u0113s amplius ann\u014ds str\u0113nuam operam n\u0101v\u0101v\u012b, \npraefectus serv\u014drum agrestium. Mox per hunc am\u012bc\u014dsque hujus \nadductus sum, ut ad Guineam n\u0101vig\u0101rem, homin\u0113s nigr\u012bt\u0101s \nconqu\u012bs\u012bt\u016brus, qu\u014ds ips\u012b inter s\u0113 per sua praedia servit\u016btis \ncaus\u0101 d\u012bviderent. Equidem magnam lucr\u012b partem eram d\u0113r\u012bv\u0101t\u016brus. \n3. Sed long\u0113 aliter \u014drdin\u0101vit Deus, n\u0113 imp\u016bn\u0113 caecae cupidit\u0101t\u012b \nobsequerer. Nempe vent\u012bs abrepta n\u0101vis \u014cceanum tr\u0101ns\u012bre \nnequ\u012bbat, sed long\u0113 ad Caurum d\u0113vehitur, circ\u0101 Orinoc\u014dnis \u014dstia, \nut cr\u0113d\u0113b\u0101mus. Altera mox superveni\u0113ns procella magn\u014d impet\u016b n\u014ds \nin Occidentem pr\u014dpulit, ubi, s\u012b \u0113 mar\u012b effuger\u0113mus, per fer\u014ds \nhomin\u0113s foret pereundum. \n4. Grav\u012b impendente per\u012bcul\u014d, nocte intempest\u0101 et saeviente \nadh\u016bc vent\u014d, nauta qu\u012b erat in vigili\u0101 \u201cterram adesse\u201d \nexcl\u0101m\u0101vit; atque, ante\u0101 quam c\u0113ter\u012b experr\u0113ct\u012b superne \ncongreg\u0101mur, n\u0101vis in ar\u0113n\u012bs haeret. Statim cum strepit\u016b \ntremend\u014d corruunt m\u0101l\u012b e\u014drumque arm\u0101menta. Fl\u016bct\u016bs magn\u0101 v\u012b \nfor\u014ds pr\u014dlu\u0113bant, neque ipsae n\u0101vis comp\u0101g\u0113s di\u016b toler\u0101t\u016brae \nvid\u0113bantur. 5. Magister scapham d\u0113mitt\u012b jubet. D\u0113mittitur: nec \nfacile id quidem. R\u0113s, quae maxim\u0113 ad v\u012btam sunt necess\u0101riae, \nraptim ingeruntur; tum n\u014ds ips\u012b, tredecim vir\u012b, in eandem \nd\u0113scendimus. Mont\u014dsum l\u012btus inter subl\u016bstrem c\u0101l\u012bginem furvum \napp\u0101r\u0113bat: e\u014d r\u0113mig\u0101mus, s\u012b qu\u0101 forte in sin\u016b terrae reduct\u014d \ntranquilli\u014dre mar\u012b \u016bt\u0101mur. Jam, violenter undante sal\u014d et circum \nn\u014ds s\u0113 frangente, r\u0113s n\u014dn nauticae per\u012btiae sed d\u012bv\u012bnae opis \nvid\u0113b\u0101tur: qu\u0101r\u0113 inter r\u0113migandum s\u0113 quisque De\u014d Supr\u0113m\u014d, pius \nimpiusve, commend\u0101bat, sal\u016bte paene d\u0113sp\u0113r\u0101t\u0101. 6. Ventus, ad \nterram pr\u014dpell\u0113ns, cursum scaphae acceler\u0101bat, terram faci\u0113bat \nform\u012bdol\u014dsi\u014drem; met\u016b autem maris, sp\u0113 l\u012btoris, ips\u012b n\u014dsmet \nquasi in certissimum exitium d\u0113tr\u016bd\u0113b\u0101mus. Tandem, vad\u014dsi\u014dre \nmar\u012b, fl\u016bct\u016bs pernici\u014dsius circumfring\u012b et d\u0113ject\u0101r\u012b scapha. \nMox, ecce crista undae ing\u0113ns, quae n\u014ds persequitur; et vix De\u012b \neff\u0101mur n\u014dmen, quum c\u016bnct\u012b sumus absorpt\u012b. \n7. Quae sequ\u0113bantur, longa fortasse \u0113n\u0101rr\u0101t\u016b, fact\u016b erant \nbrevissima. Profundius s\u0113ns\u012b m\u0113 verbere fl\u016bct\u016bs ill\u012bus d\u0113prim\u012b, \nsed, anim\u0101 fortiter compress\u0101, ad summ\u0101s aqu\u0101s \u0113mers\u012b tandem. \nAlter\u014d in fl\u016bct\u016b sp\u016bmante implic\u0101tus atque violenter \ncircumtortus, imm\u0113nsum anh\u0113l\u0101ns \u0113luctor; tum conversus, humer\u014ds \nme\u014ds succ\u0113dent\u012b opp\u014dn\u014d cristae. Ea m\u0113 magn\u0101 v\u012b cautem versus \npr\u014dj\u0113cit, aqu\u0101 exstantem: hanc ego amplexus, adhaere\u014d, dum \nd\u0113currit unda; tunc, priusquam novus superveniat fl\u016bctus, per \nvada exsili\u0113ns scand\u014d, iterumque amplector cautem; simul, aest\u016b \npaulisper obruor. Ictus ejus m\u0113 asper\u0113 quass\u0101bat, sed extempl\u014d \n\u0101era animamque rec\u0113p\u012b, et r\u016brsus per vada supergredior. Citr\u0101 \nsaxa und\u0101s long\u0113 minus ingent\u0113s s\u0113ns\u012b, inter qu\u0101s poteram \nnat\u0101re, aegr\u0113 profect\u014d. Mox l\u012btore ips\u014d pr\u014djectus, unc\u012bs pedibus \nin sabul\u014dnem lapill\u014dsque inculc\u0101t\u012bs, pr\u014dnus d\u0113cid\u014d, ut n\u0113 m\u0113 \nfl\u016bctus retrahat. \u016an\u014d post temporis m\u014dment\u014d in terr\u0101 firm\u0101 ast\u014d. \nConversus, vide\u014d praeter l\u012btus cautium seriem, inter albicant\u0113s \naqu\u0101s nigr\u0101rum; nihil aliud per tenebr\u0101s in mar\u012b dispici\u014d, neque \nscapham neque quemquam \u0113 sod\u0101libus. \n8. Tamen haud vald\u0113 c\u0101l\u012bgin\u014dsa erat nox. Ingent\u0113s aliquot n\u016bb\u0113s, \net pl\u016brimae n\u016bb\u0113culae, s\u012bbilante vent\u014d rapt\u0101bantur: inter h\u0101s \ncl\u0101rissima l\u016bc\u0113bant s\u012bdera \u0113 nigerrim\u014d cael\u014d. Respici\u0113ns ad \nterram, collium dumtaxat cern\u014d l\u012bne\u0101menta ac r\u016bpium. Tum \nvest\u012bmenta raptim d\u0113tracta manibus contorque\u014d, et, quoad possum, \naquam mar\u012bnam exprim\u014d. Eadem r\u016brsus induor, (quid aliud \nfacerem?) et r\u016bpem proximam per alg\u0101s \u0113n\u012bsus ascend\u014d; fr\u016bstr\u0101: \nnam n\u0113 inde quidem in mar\u012b quidquam discern\u012b potest. \n9. Attamen arboris f\u014drma super colle exstat. Hanc sequor, et, ut \npotissimum in c\u0101l\u012bgine, arborem illam scand\u014d et r\u0101m\u014ds amplexus \ninterf\u016bsusque m\u0113 rep\u014dn\u014d. Vest\u012bment\u014drum in locul\u012bs nihil habu\u012b, \npraeter cultellum, tab\u0101c\u012b aliquantum et tubulum f\u016bm\u0101rium. Post \nbrevem requiem assurg\u0113ns, virgam grandiusculam amput\u014d, qu\u0101 \npr\u014dtegam m\u0113 aliqu\u0101tenus. Aqu\u0101 mar\u012bn\u0101 largius \u012bnsorpt\u0101, tamen \nneque sitis neque famis aderat mihi lev\u0101men. Sed, loc\u014d cib\u012b, \ntab\u0101c\u012b folium in \u014ds meum comp\u014dn\u014d, implic\u0101t\u0101que r\u0101m\u012bs virg\u0101, \nmembra mea ita disp\u014dn\u014d, ut n\u0113 d\u0113cidam, s\u012b somn\u014d capiar. \nVespert\u012bli\u014dn\u0113s, et maxim\u012b ill\u012b quidem, str\u012bd\u014dribus ac vol\u0101t\u016b, \nsomnum aliquamdi\u016b discutiunt. \n10. Item quoad concit\u0101t\u014d opus erat corpore, m\u0113ns mea tranquilla \nfuerat ac praes\u0113ns: nunc, quand\u014d qui\u0113scit corpus, maxim\u0113 s\u0113 m\u0113ns \nagit\u0101re coepit. Impr\u012bm\u012bs gr\u0101ti\u0101s De\u014d optim\u014d maxim\u014d sinc\u0113rissim\u0101s \nprof\u016bd\u012b, adm\u012br\u0101ns praesertim, s\u012b ego s\u014dlus ex tant\u014d naufragi\u014d \nservor. Mox id ipsum cr\u016bd\u0113lissim\u0113 m\u0113 pungit; etenim h\u012bc \ns\u014dlit\u0101rius, madidus, fam\u0113licus, paene n\u016bdus, pejus \u0113necor quam \nin mar\u012b, nisi v\u0113r\u014d fer\u012b homin\u0113s s\u012bve b\u0113stiae m\u0113 d\u0113vor\u0101bunt. S\u0101n\u0113 \nego id temporis pius n\u014dn eram, minim\u0113 religi\u014dsus. Igitur tant\u0101 \nin calamit\u0101te magnus m\u0113 aestus anim\u012b conquass\u0101bat, inter gr\u0101t\u0113s \nquer\u0113l\u0101sque, c\u014dnsilium ac d\u0113sp\u0113r\u0101ti\u014dnem. Tandem agit\u0101ti\u014dne \nvictus profund\u014d somn\u014d conqui\u0113v\u012b, lab\u014dris ac maestitiae obl\u012btus. \n11. M\u0101ne experg\u012bscor, multum recre\u0101tus, sed alg\u0113ns; nec m\u012brum. \nC\u0113terum ibi maris temperi\u0113s h\u016bm\u0101nae cutis cal\u014drem aequat: etiam \nnox ipsa tepet: porr\u014d arboris ill\u012bus d\u0113nsa folia fuerant mihi \npr\u014d tegument\u014d, n\u0113 calor in apertum aethera effugeret. Sci\u016br\u012b, \npsittac\u012b, macac\u012b s\u012bve cercopith\u0113c\u012b circum garri\u0113bant \ncontinenter. \u0112vigil\u0101ns incipi\u014d d\u0113scendere: ecce autem canis \nnoster ad r\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s arboris meae, quasi c\u016bst\u014ddi\u0113ns. Id m\u0113 tener\u014d \nqu\u014ddam ita aff\u0113cit gaudi\u014d, ut lacrimae ocul\u012bs obor\u012brentur. Erg\u014d \nn\u014dn sum pr\u014drsus s\u014dlit\u0101rius; \u016bnum saltem retine\u014d am\u012bcum! Hunc \nd\u0113mulce\u014d, plaud\u014d arm\u014ds, paene amplector. Mox fest\u012bnanter \nd\u0113ambul\u0101ns, n\u0101vem nostram ex advers\u014d c\u014dnspicor, longiuscul\u0113 \nultr\u0101 e\u0101s caut\u0113s, ubi ipse pr\u014djectus fu\u012b. Sine dubi\u014d aestus \nintum\u0113sc\u0113ns, ex ar\u0113n\u012bs l\u0113v\u0101tam, h\u016bc d\u0113tr\u016bsit. Jam autem paene \ns\u014dp\u012bt\u014d vent\u014d, in\u0101nis tantum supererat und\u0101rum jact\u0101ti\u014d. At ego \nin margine r\u016bpis inc\u0113d\u0113ns, d\u0113spect\u014d circ\u0101 l\u012btus: mox, \ninterject\u012bs vix m\u012blle passibus, scapham nostram discern\u014d in \nar\u0113n\u0101, subter caerule\u0101 qu\u0101dam r\u016bpe. Ad\u012bre eam volu\u012b; sed quasi \nlingua quaedam maris interf\u016bsa impedi\u0113bat; et quoniam fam\u0113 \nurg\u0113bar, in n\u0101vem potius, s\u012b possem, regrediendum c\u0113nsu\u012b. \n12. D\u0113gressus r\u016bpe, rede\u014d praeter l\u012btus: ibi pilleum nauticum \nvide\u014d, summ\u014d cum maer\u014dre. Jam aliquantum recesserat aestus, \natque, ut aestim\u0101bam, vix trecent\u012b aqu\u0101rum pass\u016bs \u0101 n\u0101ve m\u0113 \ndistin\u0113bant. Ex\u016bt\u012bs pall\u0101 bracchi\u012bsque, intrepid\u0113 mare ingressus \nsum, inter grall\u0101t\u014dri\u0101s av\u0113s, quae pl\u016brimae aqu\u0101 exsurg\u0113bant; et \nfacile n\u0101vem natand\u014d assequor. Puppis ejus vald\u0113 \u0113lev\u0101ta est, \nd\u0113pressa pr\u014dra; ex qu\u0101 cat\u0113nae d\u0113pendent\u0113s aquam tang\u0113bant. H\u0101s \nego preh\u0113ns\u0101s ascend\u014d, et superv\u0101d\u014d l\u014dr\u012bcam tabul\u0101t\u014drum. \u014c \ntr\u012bstem ru\u012bnam, ubi m\u0101l\u012b, v\u0113la, f\u016bn\u0113s str\u0101ge conturb\u0101tissim\u0101 \ncomplicantur. Sed ego ad cellam penu\u0101riam d\u0113curr\u014d, ibique \narrept\u014d p\u0101ne nautic\u014d (qu\u012b bis coctus appell\u0101tur) v\u0113scor \nlibenter. Mox, ex arc\u0101 me\u0101 ips\u012bus extract\u0101s, vest\u0113s induor atque \nh\u014drologium meum res\u016bm\u014d. (Profect\u014d resurgente aest\u016b vesper\u012b, ille \nmeus in l\u012btore vest\u012btus nat\u0101ns asport\u0101tus est.) Simul ut aquam \np\u014dtulentam inveni\u014d, sin\u016bs vestium p\u0101ne compl\u0113v\u012b, ut quoti\u0113s \nlib\u0113ret, v\u0113scerer: tum medit\u0101bar, quid facerem potissimum. \n13. Illud m\u0113 ang\u0113bat, quod manif\u0113st\u0113, s\u012b in n\u0101ve m\u0101nsiss\u0113mus, \nomn\u0113s fuiss\u0113mus salv\u012b. Super pr\u014dr\u0101 quidem saepius \u012bnsultant\u0113s \nundae pl\u016brim\u0101s r\u0113s corr\u016bperant; sed altera pars, puppim versus, \nalt\u0113 subl\u0101ta, sicca erat atque incolumis. Quippe, ut cr\u0113d\u014d, quia \nin ar\u0113n\u0101, n\u014dn in cautibus haeserat, car\u012bnae solidit\u0101s \nperd\u016br\u0101vit. Quam pl\u016brim\u0101s r\u0113s jam cupi\u0113bam asport\u0101re; sed id \nerat difficile. Scapha major, ut d\u012bx\u012b, in l\u012btore pr\u014djecta erat \nlong\u0113. Illa qu\u012bndecim vir\u014ds facile port\u0101bat, et in magn\u012bs \n\u0100fricae fluvi\u012bs ad invehend\u014ds v\u0113n\u0101l\u0113s magn\u014d \u016bsu\u012b erat fut\u016bra. \nAlteram comport\u0101ver\u0101mus long\u0113 min\u014drem, cymbam potius quam \nscapham d\u012bxerim; quae du\u014ds homin\u0113s cum r\u0113mige posset ad scapham \nd\u0113vehere, s\u012b qu\u0101 j\u016bxt\u0101 r\u012bp\u0101s aquae forent brevi\u014dr\u0113s. Haec in \nn\u0101ve rem\u0101nsit: d\u0113mittere eam in mare erat in facil\u012b; sed parum \ncapi\u0113bat, nec vid\u0113b\u0101tur nimi\u014d sub onere aestum l\u012btoris \ntoler\u0101t\u016bra. Postquam arc\u0101s ac d\u014dlia mult\u014d cum susp\u012br\u0101t\u016b \naliquamdi\u016b aspex\u012b, contemplor m\u0101l\u014ds, ac ratem comp\u014dnendam \nd\u0113cern\u014d. \n14. Subit\u014d exsult\u0101ns, ex fabr\u012b nostr\u012b reposit\u014dri\u014d serr\u0101 d\u0113rept\u0101, \nm\u0101l\u014ds dissec\u014d, ut trab\u0113s longit\u016bdine fer\u0113 par\u0113s efficiam. H\u0101s in \nmare pr\u014dvolv\u014d, f\u016bnibus quibusdam m\u0101l\u014drum supr\u0101 inhibit\u0101s. Ligna \ngrandi\u014dra cujuscumque generis collig\u014d, inger\u014d, omnia f\u016bnicul\u012bs \nd\u0113lig\u0101ta. Poste\u0101 ipse s\u0113min\u016bdus, cum malle\u014d et c\u014dnf\u012bbul\u0101rum \nsaccul\u014d circum collum susp\u0113ns\u014d, d\u0113gressus equit\u014d super trabe. \nUnd\u0101ti\u014d maris jam d\u0113min\u016bta est: raptim ego ligna atque trab\u0113s, \nv\u0113l\u012bs f\u016bnibusque c\u014dnf\u016bs\u0101s, conjung\u014d, d\u0113stin\u014d, d\u0113pang\u014d; v\u012b me\u0101 \nmaxim\u0101, quantumv\u012bs rud\u012b, ratis fund\u0101menta jaci\u0113ns. Rede\u014d supr\u0101; \nvide\u014d quanta sint portanda onera, ratemque n\u014dndum sufficere. Tum \nalia ligna pl\u016brima et tabul\u0101s ex omn\u012b parte n\u0101vis conqu\u012br\u014d. H\u0101s \ndissec\u0101re ex su\u014d loc\u014d, nimi\u012b lab\u014dris erat atque temporis. Sed \nsaepta animadvert\u014d lignea, quae ad d\u012bvidenda nigr\u012bt\u0101rum cub\u012blia \ncompar\u0101veram. Utrumque b\u012bn\u012bs h\u0101m\u012bs \u0113 terg\u014d, b\u012bn\u012bs sp\u012bc\u0101t\u012bs \ncl\u0101v\u012bs \u0113 fund\u014d, erat \u012bnstr\u016bctum; \u0101nul\u012bs later\u012b n\u0101vis \u012bnf\u012bx\u012bs, \nper qu\u014ds h\u0101m\u012b \u012bnser\u012b d\u0113b\u0113bant. Haec saepta pl\u016brimam atque \noptimam mihi suffici\u0113bant m\u0101teriem. Quibus r\u0113bus superaddit\u012bs, \nm\u014dlem ratis et solidit\u0101tem multum adauge\u014d; tum f\u016bnibus astring\u014d \nc\u016bncta. Longum id erat et s\u0101n\u0113 difficile: necn\u014dn s\u014dl m\u0113 \nadmon\u0113bat h\u014dr\u0101rum: h\u014drologium substiterat. D\u0113nique postquam, \ngraviter \u012bnsult\u0101ns rat\u012b, firmit\u0101t\u012b ejus c\u014dnf\u012bd\u014d, maxim\u014d cum \ndol\u014dre senti\u014d, vix minimam partem e\u014drum, quae vellem, posse m\u0113 \nasport\u0101re; jam autem d\u0113ligendum esse. 15. Ab oper\u0101 paulisper \nrequi\u0113sc\u014d; v\u012bn\u012b \u0101rdentis sacchar\u012bn\u012b hauri\u014d p\u014dcillum, meditorque \nmaestissim\u0113. Ea quae ad v\u012btam maxim\u0113 sunt necess\u0101ria, d\u0113cern\u014d \ns\u016bmere impr\u012bm\u012bs; tum, arma ad v\u012btam d\u0113fendendam. Quattuor \nnaut\u0101rum arc\u0101s commod\u0113 veh\u012b posse super rat\u012b me\u0101 cr\u0113d\u0113bam. \nTotidem exin\u0101ni\u014d, et, per toll\u0113n\u014dnem[A] s\u016bcul\u012bs \u012bnstr\u016bctum, \nd\u0113mitt\u014d in ratem: hanc mox sc\u0101l\u0101s versus trah\u014d. Saccul\u014ds imple\u014d \npl\u016br\u0113s bis coct\u014d p\u0101ne, or\u0233z\u0101, fab\u012bs, m\u012bli\u0101ri\u0101 atque horde\u0101ce\u0101 \nfar\u012bn\u0101; et facile in arc\u0101s d\u0113jici\u014d. Fab\u012bs atque m\u012bli\u014d praesertim \ner\u0101mus nigr\u012bt\u0101s cib\u0101t\u016br\u012b, et s\u0101n\u0113 multum hujus cib\u012b port\u0101b\u0101mus, \nsed \u012bnfr\u0101 in alve\u014d. Jam tr\u0113s c\u0101se\u014ds Batavic\u014ds arripi\u014d, capr\u012bnae \ncarnis sicc\u0101tae mass\u0101s qu\u012bnque, (qu\u0101 carne vel maxim\u0113 \nv\u0113sc\u0113b\u0101mur,) et fr\u016bment\u012b Eur\u014dpae\u012b reliqui\u0101s qu\u0101sdam, quod ad \ngall\u012bn\u0101s alend\u0101s conv\u0113xer\u0101mus. Gall\u012bnae v\u012b procell\u0101rum perierant \nomn\u0113s. C\u0113terum tr\u012bticum fuit id, cum horde\u014d: poste\u0101 inv\u0113n\u012b \ncorruptum esse per s\u014dric\u0113s. \n16. Dein latice \u0101rdent\u012b anqu\u012bs\u012bt\u014d, v\u012bn\u012b palm\u0101ris congi\u014ds fer\u0113 \nsex, cum pl\u016brim\u012bs d\u0113lic\u0101ti\u014drum p\u014dtuum lag\u0113n\u012bs, seorsum concl\u016bs\u012b. \nHae lag\u0113nae partim magistr\u012b fuerant, partim meae ips\u012bus. \nLacernam meam et lect\u012b opert\u014drium corripi\u014d, porr\u014d serram, \nsec\u016brim, malleum cl\u0101v\u014dsque: sed haec in cymb\u0101 d\u0113stin\u014d portanda. \nPl\u016br\u0113s fuisse in n\u0101ve nitr\u0101t\u012b pulveris cad\u014ds maj\u014dr\u0113s sci\u0113bam; \nsed ubinam artill\u0101tor noster e\u014ds habuisset condit\u014ds, eram \nnescius. Tandem multum anqu\u012bs\u012bt\u014ds duo inv\u0113n\u012b sicc\u014ds s\u0101n\u014dsque, \ntertium aqu\u0101 mar\u012bn\u0101 corruptum. Cist\u0101s tr\u0113s, h\u014dc pulvere \ncompl\u0113t\u0101s, c\u016br\u0101tissim\u0113 intr\u0101 arcam super rat\u012b ita concl\u016bd\u014d, ut, \ns\u012b fl\u016bctus alluat, minim\u014d sit d\u0113tr\u012bment\u014d. Jam d\u0113 igne fovend\u014d \nsubit c\u016bra. Coqu\u012b nostr\u012b rec\u0113nse\u014d supellectilem. Inde d\u0113ripi\u014d \nfoculum cum forcipe, batill\u014d et rut\u0101bul\u014d, cr\u0101ticulam ferream, \nah\u0113num, ollamque coculam. Satis oneris jam vid\u0113bar imposuisse. \n17. Cymbam pr\u014dtinus per e\u0101sdem s\u016bcul\u0101s mar\u012b committ\u014d; id quod \ndifficillimum fuisset, nisi requi\u0113ssent undae. H\u016bc imp\u014dn\u014d \nignipultam aucup\u0101riam optimam, p\u0101r pistol\u0101rum cum balte\u014d, \nmulctram stanneam, igni\u0101ria, s\u012bnum ligneum, p\u014dculum ex alb\u014d \nplumb\u014d, item corneum; cum vestibus ac fabr\u012bl\u012b supellectile, quam \nn\u014dmin\u0101v\u012b. Add\u014d pilul\u0101rum plumbe\u0101rum sacculum ac gladi\u014ds duo. \n\u016anus h\u014drum falc\u0101tus erat Maur\u016bsi\u012b me\u012b domin\u012b gladius. S\u014dlem \nvide\u014d d\u0113cl\u012bn\u0101re; itaque proper\u0113 f\u016bnem tract\u014drium rat\u012b adjung\u014d, \nf\u016bnicul\u014ds pl\u016br\u0113s in cymbam pr\u014djici\u014d, jamque d\u0113scend\u014d cum r\u0113m\u012bs, \nratem ad l\u012btus tract\u016brus. \n18. Tria m\u0113 c\u014dnfirm\u0101bant,\u2014mare tranquillum; aestus placid\u0113 \nall\u0101b\u0113ns; aurae quoque, quantum erat, terram versus sp\u012br\u0101ns. \nParvam ancoram in cymb\u0101 port\u0101bam. Jam r\u0113mig\u014d, atque contus \nanimum subit. Rede\u014d, effer\u014d contum: d\u0113mum l\u012btus pet\u014d, sed \nd\u012br\u0113ctam viam caut\u0113s prohib\u0113bant. Av\u0113s multae in ratem \nc\u014dns\u0113d\u0113runt, ut pisc\u0101rentur commod\u0113. H\u0101s aegr\u0113 abig\u014d. Mox s\u0113ns\u012b \nm\u0113 praeterveh\u012b, ips\u014d mar\u012b clam trahente: inde sp\u0113r\u0101bam posse m\u0113 \nin fluvi\u012b alicujus \u014dstium d\u0113port\u0101r\u012b, ubi bona mea t\u016btius \nexp\u014dnerem. Id quod \u0113venit: nam r\u016bp\u0113s mox sube\u014d, ubi in convallem \nsinus maris intrat. 19. Sed dum r\u0113m\u012bs, quantum possum, medium in \nfl\u016bmen cymbam d\u012brig\u014d, paene alter\u014d naufragi\u014d c\u014dnfl\u012bctor, rate \nvad\u014d ill\u012bs\u0101. D\u0113cl\u012bv\u012b pr\u014dtinus rat\u012b d\u0113l\u0101b\u0113bantur ejus onera, nisi \nproper\u0113 succurrissem. Circum\u0101ct\u0101 cymb\u0101, ligna aliquot d\u0113 rate in \ninterstitia ejusdem intr\u016bd\u014d, quasi paxill\u012bs \u0113normibus sustin\u0113ns \narc\u0101s. H\u012bc allig\u0101tus necess\u0101ri\u014d commoror, \u0101nxius s\u0101n\u0113 anim\u012b, \nd\u014dnec aestus \u012bnsurg\u0113ns ratem allev\u0101vit. Tum in parvum quendam \nsinum d\u0113vert\u014d, juxt\u0101 pl\u0101nitiem, cui mare d\u0113b\u0113bat superfund\u012b. E\u014d \nmox d\u0113l\u0101tus metu\u0113bam ancoram d\u0113jicere, n\u0113 tanta m\u014dl\u0113s f\u016bnem \nabrumperet, nisi aqu\u0101s st\u0101gn\u0101re intellegerem. Tandem rec\u0113d\u0113ns \naestus in terr\u0101 firm\u0101 relinquit et cymbam et ratem. \n20. Onera mea exp\u014dnere in\u016btile erat, nocte appropinquante. In \narbore aliqu\u0101 iterum dorm\u012bre d\u0113cr\u0113v\u012b; itaque suffert\u0101 ignipult\u0101 \narm\u0101tus, item gladi\u014d serr\u0101que, per ulv\u0101s \u016bberrim\u0101s pr\u014dc\u0113d\u014d, \nanqu\u012bs\u012bt\u016brus id\u014dneum cub\u012ble. Nemus haud long\u0113 vide\u014d. Ibi d\u0113lect\u0101 \nmaj\u014dre qu\u0101dam arbore, curv\u012bs tr\u0101nsvers\u012bsque r\u0101m\u012bs, grad\u016bs pr\u014d \nsc\u0101l\u012bs in cortice serr\u0101 inc\u012bd\u014d; tum scand\u0113ns cum serr\u0101 amput\u014d \nr\u0101m\u014drum quidquid sit obfut\u016brum, et cuband\u012b faci\u014d per\u012bculum. \nMacac\u014ds vide\u014d pl\u016br\u0113s in arboribus, sed parv\u014ds m\u012bt\u0113sque. \n21. Redeunt\u012b canis occurrit, lepusculum \u014dre fer\u0113ns, quem ante \nped\u0113s me\u014ds pr\u014dj\u0113cit. Intell\u0113x\u012b eum magnam partem d\u0113vor\u0101sse; \netenim pl\u0113nus saturque app\u0101r\u0113bat. S\u0101n\u0113 ego d\u014dnum ejus n\u014dn \ncontemps\u012b, quamv\u012bs lani\u0101tum. Acc\u0113p\u012b; sed subit c\u016bra, n\u0113 s\u014dl\u014d me\u014d \nam\u012bc\u014d pr\u012bver, nisi s\u0113dul\u014d p\u0101scam. Magn\u014d erat corpore, mult\u014dque \neg\u0113bat cib\u0101t\u016b; d\u0113 qu\u014d inc\u0113p\u012b medit\u0101r\u012b.\u2014Dulcem aquam juxt\u0101 \nc\u014dnspicor, in fl\u016bmen mar\u012bnum d\u0113currentem. Mox frondibus \nfoli\u012bsque sicc\u012bs igne fact\u014d, lepuscul\u012b reliqui\u0101s super v\u012bv\u012bs \npr\u016bn\u012bs ope gladi\u012b ac serrae torre\u014d, gust\u0101t\u016bque ejus quam maxim\u0113 \nfruor. Pr\u012bmam illam in \u012bnsul\u0101 s\u014dlit\u0101ri\u0101 c\u0113nam cum volupt\u0101te \ntr\u012bstiti\u0101que m\u012br\u0113 commist\u0101 memin\u012b. Jamque c\u0101l\u012bg\u0101bat. Ego autem \ntabulam quandam report\u0101tam cl\u0101v\u012bs d\u0113stin\u0101v\u012b ad r\u0101m\u014ds arboris \nmeae, ibique lacern\u0101 obvol\u016btus somn\u014d m\u0113 dabam. Ignipultam inter \nr\u0101m\u014ds apposueram: canis jac\u0113bat subtus. Pistol\u012bs quoque \nsuccingor, n\u0113 s\u012bmia aliqua major m\u0113 incessat. \n22. Et profund\u0113 equidem dorm\u012bv\u012b, d\u0113fessus lab\u014dribus; tamen ante \nl\u016bcem sum experr\u0113ctus: (etenim ill\u0101 in regi\u014dne aest\u0101tis ips\u012bus \nnox proxim\u0113 ante d\u012bl\u016bculum tenebr\u0101s obtendit:) atque ego \nmedit\u0101ns c\u014dnsilia mea comp\u014dn\u014d. Ut pr\u012bmum d\u012bl\u016bc\u0113scit, d\u0113scend\u014d. \nLigna aliquot exacu\u014d sec\u016br\u012b; tum pr\u014d sublic\u012bs in ar\u0113nam ita \nadig\u014d, ut ratem, quamv\u012bs cr\u0113scentibus aqu\u012bs, inhibeant. Nitr\u0101t\u012b \npulveris cist\u0101s lacern\u0101 pr\u014dteg\u014d, s\u012b forte pluat. Serram,\u2014\nmalleum,\u2014cl\u0101v\u014ds,\u2014tabul\u0101s du\u0101s, r\u014dbustam tenuemque,\u2014argillam \nmollem, cum vetere f\u016bne pr\u014d stupp\u0101,\u2014in cymbam colloc\u014d. Aquam \nmulctr\u0101 haustam s\u016bm\u014d m\u0113cum, item p\u014dculum ac p\u0101nem. Lepuscul\u012b, \nquod restat, cum cane d\u012bvid\u014d, ips\u014dque in cymbam ads\u016bmpt\u014d fl\u016bmen \ningredior, scapham nostram inv\u012bs\u016brus. \n23. Pl\u0113n\u014d maris aest\u016b, tardius d\u0113scend\u014d fl\u016bmen; mox intr\u0101 caut\u0113s \nl\u012btus l\u0113g\u014d, n\u0113 quid und\u0101rum m\u0113 incommodet. Magis magisque \nadm\u012bror avium abundantiam, qu\u0101 mar\u012bn\u0101rum, qu\u0101 silvestrium. Inter \ncaut\u0113s ac l\u012btus grall\u0101t\u014driae abund\u0101bant. Ad scapham tandem \nperting\u014d; perfr\u0101ctam inveni\u014d, velut anim\u014d praec\u0113peram; \ncr\u0113dideram posse m\u0113 d\u0113tr\u012bmenta ejus resarc\u012bre. Sed v\u012bgint\u012b \npass\u016bs \u0101 mar\u012b jac\u0113bat, procell\u0101 aest\u016bque ill\u012bus noctis long\u0113 \n\u0113vecta; neque summ\u0101 me\u0101 v\u012b potuit mov\u0113r\u012b. Porr\u014d, r\u0113m\u014ds id\u014dne\u014ds \nneque hab\u0113bam, neque, s\u012b hab\u0113rem, adhib\u0113re possem, onust\u0101 cert\u0113 \nscaph\u0101. Aeger anim\u012b hanc relinqu\u014d, r\u0113mig\u014dque n\u0101vem versus. \nC\u014dgit\u0101ns autem statu\u014d m\u0101lum v\u0113lumque scaphae anqu\u012brere, s\u012b forte \nposte\u0101 h\u014drum \u016bsus v\u0113nerit. \n24. Ad sc\u0101l\u0101s n\u0101vis acc\u0113d\u014d. H\u0101s nat\u0101ns n\u014dn potueram man\u016b \nattingere: etenim puppis nimium erat \u0113l\u0101ta. Sed ast\u0101ns in cymb\u0101, \nfacile e\u0101s apprehend\u014d. Cane pr\u012bmum superposit\u014d, allig\u0101t\u0101que \ncymb\u0101, ipse ascend\u012b; mox d\u0113side\u014d inops c\u014dnsili\u012b. \u014cllam offend\u014d \nfr\u016bctuum cond\u012bt\u014drum: cum p\u0101ne v\u0113scor, dum c\u014dgit\u014d. Vide\u014d alteram \nratem n\u014dn posse m\u0113 c\u014dnstruere; spatium di\u0113\u012b n\u014dn sufficere, s\u012b \ntrab\u0113s ips\u0101 ex n\u0101ve sint dissecandae; l\u014dr\u012bcam tabul\u0101t\u014drum \ndiscindere, lab\u014dri\u014dsum fore, nec vald\u0113 \u016btile. 25. Maur\u014drum \nmemineram rat\u0113s utribus suffult\u0101s. Utr\u0113s n\u014dn hab\u0113bam. Arc\u0101s \naquae impenetr\u0101bil\u0113s vol\u0113bam pr\u014d utribus adhib\u0113re; sci\u0113bam autem \nnostr\u0101s solid\u014d esse r\u014dbore et astr\u012bct\u0101 fabric\u0101. \u016anaquaeque h\u0101rum \nligne\u014d pessul\u014d rud\u012bque ser\u0101 obd\u0113b\u0101tur; c\u016bncta compar\u012b erant \nmodul\u014d. Di\u0113 superi\u014dre, dissect\u014d serr\u0101 pessul\u014d, facile aperueram \nquattuor ill\u0101s; \u012bdem nunc faci\u014d in c\u0113ter\u012bs, atque exin\u0101n\u012bt\u0101rum \nexpl\u014dr\u014d commiss\u016br\u0101s. Artissimae vid\u0113bantur; id gaude\u014d: sed \nf\u016bnibus proper\u0113 in mare d\u0113m\u012bs\u012b quattuor h\u0101rum, ut commiss\u016brae \naqu\u0101 intum\u0113scerent; meam ips\u012bus, quae optim\u0113 fabr\u0113facta est, \npice ac stupp\u0101 circ\u0101 operculum inc\u0113p\u012b oblinere, per\u012bculum \nfaci\u0113ns, num aquam excl\u016bdere possem. Postquam operu\u012b, cune\u014ds \ntenu\u0113s ligne\u014ds juxt\u0101 pessulum \u012bnferci\u0113bam, qu\u014d astr\u012bctissim\u0113 \nconcl\u016bderem. Hanc in mare d\u0113m\u012bs\u012b, fund\u014d s\u016brsum sustent\u0101tam; \natque ibi relig\u0101tam rel\u012bqu\u012b, ut operam meam aqua expl\u014dr\u0101ret. \n26. Jam vide\u014d diem pr\u014dc\u0113dere, metusque subit\u014d m\u0113 incessit, n\u0113 \nquis th\u0113saur\u014ds me\u014ds \u0113 rate comp\u012bl\u0101ret, n\u0113ve b\u0113stia corrumperet \ncibum. \u012ansula foret an contin\u0113ns terra, culta an inculta, \nfer\u014dcibus b\u0113sti\u012bs \u012bnf\u0113sta necne,\u2014n\u014dndum sci\u0113bam. Ratis autem \nd\u012bl\u0113ctissima ocul\u012bs s\u014dl\u012bque exposita manet, dum ego nov\u0101s h\u012bc \nr\u0113s conqu\u012br\u014d! Cr\u0113d\u0113bam n\u014dn posse m\u0113 ill\u014d ips\u014d di\u0113 novae ratis \nonus asport\u0101re; satius esse, red\u012bre quam citissim\u0113. Illud \nsuccurrit: \u201cHeri, quae ad v\u012btam maxim\u0113 erant necess\u0101ria, \u0101v\u0113x\u012b; \nhodi\u0113, quae pondere levissima sunt, n\u016bndin\u0101ti\u014dne preti\u014dsissima, \n\u0101veham in cymb\u0101; ut s\u012b forte n\u0101vis aliqua m\u0113 serv\u0101bit, n\u0113 \npr\u014drsus sim pec\u016bniae inops.\u201d Duo gladi\u014ds pulchr\u014ds \u0113 caerule\u014d \nchalybe inveni\u014d; h\u014ds avid\u0113 s\u016bm\u014d. In s\u0113cr\u0113t\u014d magistr\u012b scr\u012bni\u014d \naure\u014ds numm\u014ds Hisp\u0101n\u014drum (dobloun\u014ds vocant) cert\u014d sci\u0113bam \ncontin\u0113r\u012b; qu\u014ds ille comport\u0101bat, n\u0113, vent\u014drum v\u012b aliqu\u014d \nd\u0113vectus, pec\u016bni\u0101 ad reficiendam n\u0101vem eg\u0113ret. Dol\u0101br\u0101 pr\u014dtinus \nfor\u0113s scr\u012bni\u012b perfring\u014d: inveni\u014d autem n\u014dn aur\u012b s\u014dlum crum\u0113n\u0101s, \nsed \u012bnstr\u016bmentum astrologicum, preti\u014dsum illud quidem, ac duo \noptima h\u014drologia; item furcillam m\u0113ns\u0101lem et cochlear, utrumque \nex argent\u014d; mox du\u0101s ac\u016bs magn\u0113tic\u0101s, utramque su\u0101 in capsul\u0101: \ntertiam v\u012bderam ipsum juxt\u0101 gubern\u0101culum, propter \u016bsum \ngubernand\u012b. In m\u0113nsul\u0101 offend\u014d supellectilem ge\u014dgraphicam ac \nscr\u012bpt\u014driam, cum libr\u012bs quattuor. C\u016bncta arripi\u014d, et quasi v\u014dtum \nDe\u014d concipi\u014d, numquam, quantum in m\u0113 est, cogn\u0101t\u014ds magistr\u012b \noptim\u012b quidquam l\u0101t\u016br\u014ds damn\u012b, s\u012b forte in hominum gregem \nrestituar. \n27. Dum me\u014ds ips\u012bus perscr\u016btor locul\u014ds, unde argentum, arcul\u0101s \noptim\u0101s cl\u0101v\u0113sque av\u0113bam, illud \u201cs\u012b forte\u201d animum aur\u0113sque me\u0101s \npertentat. Imm\u014d t\u014dtum hunc diem quasi rhythmus qu\u012bdam \u201cs\u012b forte\u201d \ntinnit in auribus, dum r\u0113mig\u014d, dum inc\u0113d\u014d. Jam r\u0113s \npreti\u014dsissim\u0101s in arcul\u012bs concl\u016bseram, quum scaphae memin\u012b \narm\u0101menta. Haec facile reperi\u014d. M\u0101lum ejus ad terram attrahendum \nd\u0113cern\u014d, p\u014dne cymbam allig\u0101tum. Quamv\u012bs proper\u0101ns, temper\u0101re \nmihi nequ\u012bv\u012b, qu\u012bn l\u0101rd\u012b asport\u0101rem succ\u012bdiam, cum bulb\u014drum \nmaj\u014drum mars\u016bpi\u014d ac capide du\u014dbusque cultr\u012bs. Dein, quidquid \nvid\u0113bam corbium, fisc\u014drum, risc\u014drum, quod nat\u0101re poterat, \nrestibus c\u014dnstring\u014d, et p\u014dne trah\u014d, in cymb\u0101 port\u0101ns m\u0113 ipsum ac \ncanem cum nov\u012bs th\u0113saur\u012bs. Ecce autem, dum in e\u014d sum, ut n\u0101vem \nrelinquam, duae f\u0113l\u0113s cymbae \u012bnsiliunt, qu\u0101s quidem neque ego \nneque canis aspern\u0101tur. \n28. In r\u0113migand\u014d, vereor n\u0113 agmen meum, p\u014dne tractum, vad\u014d \nfl\u016bminis ill\u012bd\u0101tur; in l\u012btus potius pr\u014djicere vol\u014d. Dein locum \nput\u014d exqu\u012brendum, ubi ratis mea poster\u014d di\u0113 t\u016btissim\u0113 appellat: \nnam s\u012b arcae in fund\u014d ratis aliqu\u014d affl\u012bgerentur, maximum fore \nper\u012bculum n\u0113 c\u016bnctae r\u0113s disper\u012brent. D\u012bx\u012b lingu\u0101 qu\u0101dam maris \npr\u012bm\u014d ill\u014d m\u0101ne m\u0113 \u0101 scaph\u0101 intersaeptum. Hanc vide\u014d ad dextram \ncautium, e\u014dque d\u012brig\u014d cursum. Corb\u0113s, m\u0101lum scaphae, c\u0113tera, \nfacile in l\u012btus s\u016brsum trah\u014d; dein sinum illum maris proper\u014d \nintr\u0101re. \n29. Circ\u0101 qu\u012bngent\u014ds pass\u016bs penetr\u0101bat terram, r\u016bpe praecipit\u012b \nundique circumcl\u016bsus. \u014cstium angustius erat, quia aspera saxa \nutrimque exsurg\u0113bant postium \u012bnstar. L\u012btus intimum \u0113 mollissim\u0101 \nac pl\u0101nissim\u0101 erat ar\u0113n\u0101; id quod facile perspex\u012b, quia n\u014dndum \naltius pertinuerat aestus. Ultr\u0101 ar\u0113nam vide\u014d alg\u0101s cact\u014dsque. \nH\u016bc certum est ratem illam cr\u0101s d\u0113d\u016bcere. Quae quum summ\u0101 \ncelerit\u0101te l\u016bstr\u0101ssem, content\u012bs bracchi\u012bs domum r\u0113mig\u014d: nempe \ndomum \u012bre, erat, ad op\u0113s me\u0101s. Intr\u0101 caut\u0113s mare inv\u0113n\u012b tunc \nquidem s\u0101n\u0113 tranquillum. \n30. Ad coquendum pr\u014dtinus accingor, praesertim (s\u012b cr\u0113dere \nposs\u012bs) propter canem; imm\u014d, propter f\u0113l\u0113s item; namque ad \nquidv\u012bs, quod posset m\u0113 am\u0101re, m\u012br\u0113 allect\u0101bar. Quattuor intr\u0101 \nlapid\u0113s ignem accend\u014d. Tr\u0113s st\u012bpit\u0113s, \u012bnfr\u0101 ar\u0113nae \u012bnf\u012bx\u014ds, \nsupr\u0101 f\u016bne collig\u014d; inde su\u0101 cat\u0113n\u0101 suspend\u014d ah\u0113num coculum. \nAquam in capide apport\u0101tam \u012bnfund\u014d; add\u014d fab\u0101s, far\u012bnam \nhorde\u0101ceam, l\u0101rd\u012b segmen cum bulb\u014d. M\u0101teri\u0101 ign\u012b largius \ninject\u0101, ignipultam arripi\u014d p\u0101r\u014dque collem ascendere qu\u012b haud \nlong\u0113 aberat. Canem m\u0113cum ads\u016bm\u014d, f\u0113l\u0113s cr\u0113d\u014d propter ferv\u014drem \nignis nihil nocit\u016br\u0101s cib\u014d. 31. M\u012blle qu\u012bngent\u014ds pass\u016bs ad \nsummum aestim\u0101bam iter illud; sed quia propter r\u012bvulum quendam \natque \u016bvidum solum circu\u012bv\u012b, longius erat aliquant\u014d. D\u0113mum \n\u0113n\u012bsus per praecipitia, mare undique circumf\u016bsum c\u014dnspicor, \naliam n\u016bll\u0101 ex regi\u014dne terram, praeter scopul\u014ds aliquot du\u0101sque \npusill\u0101s \u012bnsul\u0101s novem fer\u0113 m\u012bllia occ\u012bdentem versus. \u016anus in \npost\u012bc\u014d m\u014dns mare exsuper\u0101bat; sed tamen eram in \u012bnsul\u0101. Hoc m\u0113 \nmagnopere ang\u0113bat. \n32. Magn\u0101 ex parte sterilior vid\u0113b\u0101tur \u012bnsula, sax\u014ds\u012bs collibus \nabund\u0101ns, n\u014dn sine arboribus; quae quidem in cav\u012bs loc\u012bs \nd\u0113ns\u0101bantur. Nisi numer\u0101rem f\u0113lem quandam feram, carnivor\u0101s n\u014dn \noffenderam b\u0113sti\u0101s; sed praeter macac\u014ds ac sci\u016br\u014ds in convalle, \nlepor\u0113s et exigu\u014ds porcill\u014ds v\u012bderam; av\u0113s autem n\u014dt\u0101s \nign\u014dt\u0101sque ub\u012bque quam pl\u016brim\u0101s. \u0100litem maj\u014drem, arbor\u012b \n\u012bnsidentem, glandibus ol\u014dr\u012bn\u012bs tr\u0101nsverber\u014d redi\u0113ns. Pl\u016bma ejus \nr\u014dstrumque accipitris erat, ungu\u0113s modicae, car\u014d piscibus \nfoetida. Tum v\u0113r\u014d m\u0113met increp\u0101bam quod jaculand\u012b suppeti\u0101s \nperderem. \u0100lit\u0113s autem rap\u0101c\u0113s, quamquam pl\u016brim\u014ds, n\u014dn magn\u014ds \nill\u014ds v\u012bderam. Porr\u014d fer\u0101s hujus \u012bnsulae c\u014dram homine pl\u0113r\u0101sque \nintrepid\u0101s esse repper\u012b. \u0100 collis jug\u014d ingent\u0113s pr\u014dspici\u014d \narbor\u0113s, qu\u0101s aestus in fl\u016bmine resurg\u0113ns d\u0113beat alluere. Hae \nsupr\u0101 ratem erant, neque procul ab arbore in qu\u0101 proxim\u0101 nocte \ndorm\u012bveram. Subter h\u0101s statu\u014d ratem attrahere, succ\u0113dente aest\u016b. \nSed proper\u0113 reversus, ignem exst\u012bnctum inveni\u014d, cibum n\u014dn male \ncoctum. F\u0113l\u0113s, vald\u0113 fam\u0113licae, magn\u0101 v\u014dce quer\u0113bantur. H\u0101s et \ncanem largiter p\u0101sc\u014d; et m\u0113cum statu\u014d, pl\u016br\u0113s etiam m\u0113 fab\u0101s, s\u012b \npossim, n\u0101ve extract\u016brum. \n33. At ferae v\u012bsi\u014d f\u0113lis m\u0113 comm\u014dverat aliquantum. Ver\u0113bar n\u0113 \nmaj\u014dr\u0113s ejusmod\u012b b\u0113stiae h\u012bc d\u0113gerent, ut pardus, ut panth\u0113ra, \nquae arbor\u0113s facile \u0113scendunt. Circumvall\u0101re m\u0113 certus sum. \n\u016at\u0113nsilibus arrept\u012bs fabr\u012blibus cum m\u0101teri\u0101 ac f\u016bne, pet\u014d \narborem meam; ubi, inc\u012bs\u016br\u012bs sec\u016br\u012b impress\u012bs, p\u0101l\u014ds \u012bnf\u012bg\u014d, \nbrev\u0113s tabul\u0101s supr\u0101 d\u0113stin\u014d, tum quattuor d\u0113super p\u0101l\u012bs contr\u0101 \nict\u016bs \u012bnfern\u014ds corr\u014dbor\u014d. Quippe intell\u0113x\u012b f\u0113lem quamcumque ab \nips\u0101 stirpe arboris tamquam incurrere s\u016brsum; et s\u012b quid \npraerupt\u0113 \u0113mineat, arc\u0113r\u012b. Restim autem quasi in \u0101nul\u014ds du\u014ds \ns\u012bve \u0101menta complic\u014d, quem r\u0101m\u012bs allig\u0101tum, ipse possim \nprehendere ascend\u0113ns. T\u0101l\u012b tum podi\u014d arborem, ut poteram, \npraetexu\u012b: poste\u0101 c\u014dnfirm\u0101v\u012b, pl\u0113ni\u014dre adj\u016btus supellectile. 34. \nJam vide\u014d noctem aestumque approper\u0101re. Sublic\u012bs \u0113vuls\u012bs, p\u014dne \ncymbam trah\u014d ratem, app\u014dn\u014dque sub arbore ingent\u012b incolumem; ubi \nlat\u0113re posse cr\u0113d\u0113ns, sublic\u012bs iterum d\u0113pang\u014d. Deoner\u0101t\u0101 cymb\u0101, \ncomp\u014dn\u014d r\u0113s omn\u0113s acc\u016br\u0101t\u0113. Tum, cr\u0101stin\u012bs c\u014dnsili\u012bs aestu\u0101ns, \ntamen somn\u014d celeriter corripior, \u0101l\u0101t\u012bs blatt\u012bs atque \nvespert\u012bli\u014dnibus contempt\u012bs. \n35. \u0112vigil\u014d ante d\u012bl\u016bculum. D\u0113proper\u014d ad cymbam d\u0113tr\u016bd\u014dque in \nfluvium; canis quasi su\u014d j\u016bre \u012bnsilit. Subter st\u0113ll\u012bs r\u0113mig\u014d, \nadvers\u014d aest\u016b. In n\u0101vem inv\u0101d\u014d, etiam ante s\u014dlem ortum; sed \nd\u012bl\u016bc\u0113sc\u0113bat. \u012anspici\u014d arcam meam; optim\u0113 aquam excl\u016bserat. \nC\u0113ter\u0101s item \u0113 mar\u012b subtract\u0101s stupp\u0101 ac pice pariter ac meam \nips\u012bus concl\u016bd\u014d. Omnia f\u016bnibus contentissim\u012bs astring\u014d. Mox \nquattuor sufficere videntur; imm\u014d s\u012bc t\u016btius fore ad pr\u012bmum \nexper\u012bmentum. H\u012bs in mare d\u0113l\u0101t\u012bs, et firmissim\u0113 c\u014dnstrict\u012bs \nsuperp\u014dn\u014d d\u014dlium pulveris nitr\u0101t\u012b, alterum p\u0101nis, mox t\u014dtum \nfabr\u012b reposit\u014drium. Adjung\u014d s\u0113riam ole\u012b, \u014dllam picis, arma \nmissilia aliquot, ali\u0101s r\u0113s min\u014dr\u0113s. V\u0113la quotquot inv\u0113n\u012b, quae \nsupervac\u0101nea port\u0101b\u0101mus, cum scaphae v\u0113l\u014d, colloc\u0101v\u012b supr\u0101; \nsuperque h\u012bs r\u016brsus carbasum quendam pice liquid\u0101 oblitum. \nTantum onus facillim\u0113 vid\u0113bantur arcae toler\u0101re. \n36. Postquam restibus omnia c\u014dnsolid\u0101v\u012b, paul\u014d ante mer\u012bdiem, \nstr\u0113nu\u014d n\u012bs\u016b ratem ad l\u012btus trah\u014d, paene \u012bnfim\u014d in aest\u016bs \nrecess\u016b. Sed inter post\u0113s saxe\u014ds in sinum illum pr\u014dc\u0113d\u014d, neque \nin fl\u016bmen adversum vol\u014d m\u0113 committere. Mare intr\u0101 mox \nqui\u0113tissimum inveni\u014d, et quasi in st\u0101gn\u014d relig\u014d ratem. Maxim\u0113 \ng\u0101v\u012bsus, pr\u014djici\u014d m\u0113 sub r\u016bpe et paulisper sub umbr\u0101 requi\u0113sc\u014d: \ndein cib\u014d recre\u0101tus, ad operam rede\u014d. 37. Quidquid erat in rate, \nin alg\u014dsum siccae ar\u0113nae acervum exp\u014dn\u014d; sed lab\u014dri\u014ds\u0113, propter \nhumil\u0113s aqu\u0101s. Vide\u014d mare adh\u016bc tranquillum; cr\u0101s posse coor\u012br\u012b \nprocell\u0101s. Sp\u0113s et cupidit\u0101s, quamv\u012bs lass\u014d, dedit v\u012br\u0113s. Cum \ncarbas\u014d ill\u014d (s\u012b forte sit \u016bsu\u012b) atque c\u016bnct\u012bs f\u016bnibus retrah\u014d \nratem ad n\u0101vem. Qu\u012bntam illam proper\u0113 adjung\u014d arcam, et aliquot \nr\u0113s ponder\u014ds\u0101s imp\u014dn\u014d; inter qu\u0101s h\u012bc n\u014dmin\u0101re libet molam \nferr\u0101ment\u012bs acuend\u012bs, glandium maj\u014drum cadul\u014ds duo: in cymb\u0101 \nautem me\u0101s vest\u0113s, et pulveris nitr\u0101t\u012b aliquantum. C\u016bncta \nd\u0113port\u014d intr\u0101 post\u0113s mar\u012bn\u014ds incolumia paul\u014d ante tenebr\u0101s. \nVald\u0113 d\u0113fessus inde red\u012bbam: sed aestus cymbam subv\u0113xit sine me\u0101 \nv\u012b. Vix poteram c\u0113n\u0101re; igitur p\u0101st\u014d cane f\u0113libusque, somn\u014d m\u0113 \ncomm\u012bs\u012b. \nCAPUT (II.) SECUNDUM. \n38. Trium di\u0113rum r\u0113s gest\u0101s n\u0101rr\u0101v\u012b singill\u0101tim. \u012am\u014d in corde \nme\u014d \u012bnscr\u012bptae sunt, quasi hesternae essent. In i\u012bs quae \nsequuntur, saepius accidet, ut rem prob\u0113 n\u014dverim, diem meminerim \nparum; nec l\u0113ct\u014dr\u012b j\u016bcundum foret, ut r\u0113s, s\u012b possem, di\u0101ri\u012b \nm\u014dre \u0113n\u0101rr\u0101rem. Dehinc, quae ex n\u0101ve \u012bnsuper \u0101v\u0113x\u012b, summ\u0101tim \npotius memor\u0101b\u014d. 39. Qu\u0101rt\u014d m\u0101ne dorm\u012bv\u012b post l\u016bcem. Jej\u016bnus, \nv\u0113scor avid\u0113: etenim in ah\u0113n\u014d cibus aliquot di\u0113rum mihi me\u012bsque \nrest\u0101bat. Sed quasi nerv\u012bs succ\u012bs\u012bs, langu\u0113bat animus \nfast\u012bdi\u0113batque su\u014ds success\u016bs. \u201cC\u016br lab\u014dr\u014d?\u201d inqui\u0113bam \u201cc\u016br-ve \njuvat m\u0113 v\u012bvere, s\u014dlit\u0101rium, moribundum? Quid pr\u014dsunt n\u0101vis \nspolia, nisi ut aliquot di\u0113s v\u012btam extraham?\u201d Tum addid\u012b cl\u0101r\u0101 \nv\u014dce: Nisi forte! Nisi forte! Mox intelleg\u014d ventum \u0101 mar\u012b fl\u0101re, \naestum violentius \u012bnsurgere, in \u014dsti\u014d per\u012bcul\u014dsum forsitan \ncymbae fore. Cymbulam autem illam maj\u014dris quam c\u016bncta quae in \nn\u0101ve rest\u0101bant aestim\u0101bam. 40. Tum s\u012b ad n\u0101vem ratem \u0113 port\u016b me\u014d \ntr\u0101xissem\u2014etenim illum maris sinum postibus m\u016bn\u012btum jam Portum \nMeum appell\u0101bam\u2014quis spond\u0113ret, qu\u012bn naufragium ips\u014d in fl\u016bmine \npaterer redi\u0113ns? N\u016bb\u0113s porr\u014d volit\u0101re animadvert\u012b; imber n\u0113 \ncaderet, melius teg\u012b, quae exposita rel\u012bqueram in port\u016b. Etenim \ncava pl\u016bra ill\u0101 in r\u016bpe cogn\u014dveram. Ill\u016bc igitur pedibus \nc\u014dnfestim \u012bre d\u0113cern\u014d. 41. R\u016bp\u0113s ad laevam pr\u012bm\u014d rubra erat, \nnisi ubi alg\u0101 obteger\u0113tur; ips\u014d in port\u016b alba; ulterius praeceps \nac caerula: omnis autem \u0113 sax\u014d (ut cr\u0113did\u012b) calc\u0101ri\u014d. Portus \ncav\u012bs loc\u012bs, imm\u014d cavern\u012bs abund\u0101bat, qu\u0101rum in aliquam possem \nsine magn\u014d lab\u014dre e\u0101s r\u0113s recondere, qu\u0101s pluvia corrumperet \npotissimum. Per alg\u0101s cact\u014dsque \u0113n\u012bsus, h\u016bc reposu\u012b lectum \nvest\u0113sque omn\u0113s, item p\u0101nem, ignipult\u0101s ac nitr\u0101tum pulverem, \ncarbas\u014d ill\u014d pice\u0101t\u014d cont\u0113cta. R\u0113s fabr\u012bl\u0113s et c\u0113tera gravi\u014dra \nv\u0113l\u012bs obt\u0113x\u012b. \n42. Jam corporis illuvi\u0113s m\u0113 vexat; nam per tr\u0113s lab\u014dri\u014dsissim\u014ds \ndi\u0113s ac du\u0101s noct\u0113s i\u012bsdem in vest\u012bment\u012bs ill\u014dtus m\u0101nseram. \nDiscingor nat\u0101t\u016brus. Pl\u0113n\u014d fer\u0113 aest\u016b quasi lacus maris \ncl\u0101rissimus c\u014dram redund\u0101bat. Cad\u0113bat pluvia tenuis, sed inter \nn\u016bb\u0113s radi\u0101bat jubar; mox app\u0101r\u0113bat arcus caelestis. M\u012br\u0113 ille \nv\u012bsus stringit mulcetque animum meum. 43. Atqu\u012b canis in aquam \nm\u0113 \u012bnsequitur et m\u0113cum vult l\u016bdere. Nostr\u0101tium canum ille \nfortasse Gr\u0101i\u014d H\u012bbern\u014drum can\u012b simillimus erat, Moloss\u014d \ndomestic\u014d gracilior et v\u0113l\u014dcior, glabr\u014d item corpore, ut \ncal\u014dribus n\u0101t\u014d. Prob\u0113 nat\u0101bat, sed digit\u0101tus erat, n\u014dn palmip\u0113s (\nquod appellant); id est, digit\u012bs n\u014dn erat pell\u012bt\u012bs; atque ego \nv\u0113l\u014dcit\u0101te natand\u012b facile eum super\u0101bam. Itaque hunc dum \u0113l\u016bd\u014d, \nm\u0113 recre\u014d. Ut ex aqu\u0101 \u0113gressus sum, is cr\u016bra ped\u0113sque me\u014ds tam \namanter lambit, atque tam gestit m\u0113 recuper\u0101sse, ut nequ\u012bverim \nm\u0113 contin\u0113re. In eff\u016bsum fl\u0113tum solvor, velut \u014dlim in pueriti\u0101, \nsenti\u014dque cor exoner\u0101r\u012b. Vest\u0113s m\u016bt\u0101v\u012b: immund\u0101s in aqu\u0101 mar\u012bn\u0101 \nsub maj\u014dribus lapill\u012bs d\u0113merg\u014d: tum \u0113gredior, \u012bnsulam \nexpl\u014dr\u0101t\u016brus. 44. Scand\u014d \u0113 port\u016b per ardua. Inde vide\u014d illum \ncollem, qu\u014d ante\u0101 \u0113n\u012bsus sum, h\u014dc \u0101 latere asc\u0113ns\u016b facillimum. \nCulmen r\u016bpium pl\u0101niti\u0113s erat s\u012bve campus calc\u0101rius, d\u0113lic\u0101t\u012bs \nvest\u012btus herb\u012bs. Hae recent\u012b pluvi\u0101 ita erant recre\u0101tae, ut nova \nveteribus admixta folia fl\u014drum praetulerint speciem, ubi rubor \nvel purpura cum nov\u014d vir\u014dre contend\u0113bant. Lepor\u0113s s\u012bve cun\u012bcul\u012b \nsu\u012bs \u0113 latibul\u012bs \u0113gredient\u0113s audentius m\u0113 aspex\u0113re, qu\u014ds n\u0113 \n\u012bnsequer\u0113tur, aegr\u0113 repress\u012b canem. \n45. Mox in scopul\u014dsa loc\u014d \u0113v\u0101d\u014d, et capr\u014ds discern\u014d fer\u014ds \nprocul; antilop\u0101s potius d\u012bxerim. P\u014dne saxa \u012bnserp\u014d, quamquam \nminim\u0113 fug\u0101c\u0113s erant. Glandibus ol\u014dr\u012bn\u012bs tubum sufferci\u014d; dein \nigne \u0113miss\u014d occ\u012bd\u014d capram vulner\u014dque haedum j\u016bxt\u0101. Canis \nintercurr\u0113ns haedum preh\u0113ns\u0101 pelle attinet, dum assequor. Cr\u016bre \nvulner\u0101tam posteri\u014dre inveni\u014d; poterat tamen inc\u0113dere. M\u0101trem \nvolu\u012b report\u0101re ad fl\u016bmen vallemque meam; sed fateor, adh\u016bc eram \ntam d\u0113lic\u0101tus, ut n\u014dluerim recentem vest\u012btum sanguine \ncommacul\u0101re. S\u016bd\u0101ri\u014d \u0113 sin\u016b vestis extract\u014d, argill\u0101que \u016bd\u0101 in \nvulnus compress\u0101, c\u014dnstr\u012bnx\u012b firmiter; tum gr\u0101mine sanguinem \nomnem absters\u012b. 46. Volu\u012b eam in cerv\u012bcibus port\u0101re; sed quand\u014d \nc\u014dnor, id v\u0113r\u014d me\u0101s v\u012br\u0113s exsuperat. Super gl\u0101re\u014dsam humum \naegerrim\u0113 cornibus eam trah\u014d, in gr\u0101mine facilius. Haed\u012b \ncornibus f\u016bnicul\u014d circumdat\u014d, hanc d\u016bc\u014d m\u0113cum simul; id quod, \ndum ignipultam port\u014d, paene nimium erat; igitur saepius c\u014dns\u0113d\u012b. \nVia autem et d\u0113cl\u012bvis erat, nec longa, circ\u0101 alterum jug\u012b latus; \nitaque tandem perv\u0113n\u012b. 47. Pr\u014dtinus in \u016bd\u014d linte\u014d cr\u016bs haed\u012b \nastring\u014d; et, n\u0113 longus sim, tant\u0101 c\u016br\u0101 fove\u014d p\u0101sc\u014dque (nam \ngrandiuscula erat) ut m\u0101nsu\u0113tissima \u0113v\u0101serit. In ar\u0113n\u0101, juxt\u0101 \nratem pr\u012bmam, sub d\u0113ns\u012bs umbr\u012bs, p\u0113lvem excav\u014d; in quam, aqu\u0101 \ns\u0113misals\u0101 repl\u0113tam, recond\u014d capram, ut \u014dti\u014dsius carn\u012b coquendae \ndem operam. Canem appropinqu\u0101re vetu\u012b; p\u0101sc\u014d autem l\u012bber\u0101liter \net hunc et f\u0113l\u0113s: av\u0113s tamen metu\u014d, n\u0113 carnis sint cupidae. \n48. Dum str\u0113nu\u0113 m\u0113 exerc\u0113bam, vix senti\u0113bam miseri\u0101s me\u0101s: sed \nsimul ac lassit\u016bd\u014d abrumperet operam, nisi somn\u014d corriperer, \nm\u0113ns coepit agit\u0101r\u012b: id quod saepius mihi \u0113v\u0113nit. Me\u0101s egomet \nc\u014dgit\u0101ti\u014dn\u0113s nequ\u012bbam toler\u0101re, et vari\u012bs quasi vent\u012bs h\u016bc ill\u016bc \nfer\u0113bar. In d\u0113sp\u0113r\u0101tissim\u0101 conditi\u014dne m\u0113 vid\u0113bam, extr\u0101 n\u0101vium \nEur\u014dpae\u0101rum cursum. Fr\u0101ct\u014d anim\u014d, l\u016bg\u0113ns, interdum lacrim\u0101ns, \ndiff\u012bsus De\u014d, d\u0113cr\u0113ta ejus conquer\u0113ns; r\u016brsus ipse m\u0113met \nobj\u016brg\u0101bam, s\u014dl\u0101bar, hort\u0101bar, c\u014dnfirm\u0101bam, maxim\u0113 g\u0101v\u012bsus quod \ntot r\u0113s \u0113 n\u0101ve congessissem. 49. Itaque per id tempus, quoniam \napud n\u0113minem potu\u012b vicem miser\u0101r\u012b meam, aperu\u012b capsam \nscr\u012bpt\u014driam, ex qu\u0101 chartam, calam\u014ds, \u0101tr\u0101mentum, pr\u014dtul\u012b, \nincipi\u014dque ang\u014dr\u0113s me\u014ds arg\u016bmentand\u014d effundere, quasi per \nserm\u014dnem. Mox t\u0101lem alterc\u0101ti\u014dnem in tabul\u0101s (ut ita d\u012bcam) \naccept\u012b imp\u0113ns\u012bque refer\u014d, qu\u0101s l\u0113ct\u014dris ocul\u012bs nunc subjicere \nlibet. \nMALA MEA.                    LEV\u0100MENTA MAL\u014cRUM.\n1. In \u012bnsul\u0101 s\u014dlit\u0101ri\u0101 sum   1. At n\u014dn es d\u0113mersus, s\u012bcut\n2. Ego \u016bnus \u0113 sod\u0101libus      2. At tibi \u016bn\u012b restat sp\u0113s\n   \u0113necor aegrim\u014dni\u0101.           aliqua effugi\u012b.\n3. Exsul\u014d \u0113 societ\u0101te        3. At n\u014dn serv\u012bs hominibus \n4. V\u012b b\u0113sti\u0101rum sum pl\u0101n\u0113    4. At n\u014dn in bellu\u014dsam \u0100fricam \n   obnoxius.                    pr\u014djectus.\n5. Lab\u014dri\u014dsissim\u0113 v\u012bctum     5. At magnam t\u016b hab\u0113s ex n\u0101ve opem.\n   quot\u012bdi\u0101num quaer\u014d.\n6. Servi\u014d h\u012bc servit\u016btem     6. At ali\u014ds t\u016b in servit\u016btem n\u014dn \n   perpetuam.                   redigis.\n7. Nisi prius s\u014dlit\u0101ri\u0113      7. At n\u014dn tua magis quam parentum\n   moriar, ad s\u014dlit\u0101riam        senect\u016bs erit s\u014dlit\u0101ria.\n   senect\u016btem reservor.\n50. Profect\u014d ultima illa nimis m\u0113 pupug\u0113re. Quae pr\u014d lev\u0101ment\u012bs \nscr\u012bps\u012b, vulnus anim\u012b recr\u016bd\u0113scere f\u0113c\u0113runt. \u201cPecc\u0101v\u012b,\u201d inquam: \n\u201cmeritam poenam toler\u0101b\u014d vir\u012bliter: fortasse ipsa poena aliquid \ntandem bon\u012b afferet.\u201d Tum cito s\u0113d\u0101ta est omnis mea perturb\u0101ti\u014d. \nEgo autem haec atque t\u0101lia reput\u0101ns, adm\u012bror, quanta sit v\u012bs vel \nincertae obsc\u016braeque religi\u014dnis, s\u012b modo r\u0113ct\u0101 intend\u0101tur vi\u0101. \nIllud fortasse et s\u012b forte pl\u016bris est, quam quis put\u0101verit; quia \nsaepius indicium est anim\u012b per tenebr\u0101s, l\u016bcem versus, \n\u0113n\u012btentis. Id autem ipsum est virt\u016bs: nam sapientissimus quisque \nnostrum in su\u0101 tamen vers\u0101tur c\u0101l\u012bgine, semperque \u0113luct\u0101tur \npl\u0113ni\u014drem versus l\u016bcem. Itaque iterum \u0113v\u0101s\u012b str\u0113nuus. 51. Tum \ncan\u012b f\u0113libusque haedum concili\u0101re stude\u014d. Omn\u0113s paxill\u012bs d\u0113pang\u014d \nv\u012bc\u012bn\u012bs; \u016bn\u012bcuique suum largior cib\u0101tum; \u016bnumquemque su\u0101 vice \nd\u0113mulce\u014d. Ex c\u014dnsu\u0113t\u016bdine sp\u0113r\u014d famili\u0101rit\u0101tem, ex me\u0101 c\u0101rit\u0101te \nc\u0101rit\u0101tem m\u016btuam. Poste\u0101 ad portum cane comitante reversus, \nali\u0101s expl\u014dr\u014d cavern\u0101s, pl\u016br\u0113sque r\u0113s melius \u014drdin\u014d. 52. \nTredecim di\u0113s in terr\u0101 d\u0113g\u0113bam, necdum n\u0101vis \u0113v\u0101nuerat. Illam \n\u016bndeci\u0113s (cr\u0113d\u014d) ascend\u012b. Quantumv\u012bs coacerv\u0101veram, pl\u016bs tamen \nconcup\u012bsc\u0113bam; et dum n\u0101vis c\u014dnsist\u0113bat, inter eam portumque \nmeum \u0101cerrimum sustent\u014d ratis commercium. R\u0113s aliquot, qu\u0101s \n\u0101v\u0113x\u012b, libet h\u012bc memor\u0101re: Inc\u016bdem artill\u0101t\u014dris, quam aegerrim\u0113 \n\u0101m\u014dl\u012btus sum; virg\u0101s vect\u0113sque ferre\u014ds; p\u0113nsilem lectum cum \nl\u014dd\u012bcibus; supparum ant\u012bcum \u0113 subsidi\u0101ri\u012bs: lacern\u0101s pl\u016br\u0113s: \npisc\u0101t\u014driam supellectilem novam atque amplam. Porr\u014d \u0113 r\u0113 \njacul\u0101t\u014dri\u0101 magn\u014ds forcip\u0113s foll\u0113sque, malleum r\u014dbustissimum, \np\u0113lv\u0113s ferre\u0101s ad plumbum liquefaciendum, batillum grande. Tum \nomn\u0113s ignipult\u0101s, bon\u0101s mal\u0101s, asport\u014d; item alterum p\u0101r \npistol\u0101rum. D\u0113mum fabr\u012blem m\u0113nsam, retin\u0101cul\u014d cochle\u0101t\u014d \n\u012bnstr\u016bctam, mult\u014d cum lab\u014dre per toll\u0113n\u014dnem d\u0113mitt\u014d, laetusque \ncomperi\u014d hanc per s\u0113 nat\u0101re. Inter min\u014dr\u0113s r\u0113s memor\u014d l\u012bbram cum \nlancibus ah\u0113ne\u012bs, s\u012bve trutinam oportet appell\u0101re, quam in \nscr\u012bni\u014d magistr\u012b offend\u012b. Ille propter medic\u0101s, cr\u0113d\u014d, \u016bs\u016bs \nhab\u0113bat; nam magister naut\u012bs pr\u014d medic\u014d erat. Ego hanc, velut \npec\u016bni\u0101s, idcirc\u014d asserv\u0101v\u012b, s\u012bquand\u014d pr\u014d numm\u012bs val\u0113ret. \nIngentem plumb\u012b convol\u016bt\u012b l\u0101minam, quae nimia posset esse, \nsec\u016br\u012b malle\u014dque discissam particul\u0101tim asport\u0101v\u012b; etiam magnum \npilul\u0101rum plumbe\u0101rum vim, pl\u016br\u0113s rudent\u0113s, f\u016bn\u0113s, ferre\u014ds h\u0101m\u014ds, \ncl\u0101v\u014ds, pessul\u014ds, c\u014dnf\u012bbul\u0101s, \u0101nul\u014ds. Cann\u014dn\u0101s su\u0101 ex s\u0113de n\u014dn \neram d\u0113turb\u0101t\u016brus. Poste\u0101 magnum tr\u012btic\u012b d\u014dlium laetus inveni\u014d, \ns\u0113riam optim\u012b ad\u014dris, sacchar\u012b cadum maj\u014drem, v\u012bn\u012b \u0101rdentis \namphor\u0101s tr\u0113s; porr\u014d cultr\u014ds furcill\u0101sque m\u0113ns\u0101l\u0113s, grandem \nforficem, tr\u0113s nov\u0101cul\u0101s, quattuor naut\u0101rum gladi\u014ds s\u012bve s\u012bc\u0101s.\n53. N\u0113 forte m\u012br\u0113tur l\u0113ctor, qu\u0101r\u0113 tantam bellic\u012b terr\u014dris vim \nin merc\u0101t\u014dri\u0101 n\u0101ve v\u0113xer\u012bmus, n\u0101t\u016bram ill\u012bus commerci\u012b c\u016br\u0101tius \nd\u0113m\u014dnstr\u0101b\u014d. Homin\u0113s barbar\u014ds \u0113 Guine\u0101 er\u0101mus in servit\u016btem \nreport\u0101t\u016br\u012b; quem ad \u016bsum et ipsa n\u0101vis et omnis ejus dispositi\u014d \nc\u0113ter\u012bs erat vald\u0113 d\u012bversa. Grandiuscula erat n\u0101vis, n\u0101v\u0101l\u0113s \nsoci\u012b sexdecim. Cann\u014dn\u0101s hab\u0113bat qu\u012bnque,\u2014\u016bnam \u0101 terg\u014d,\u2014n\u0113 forte \naut cum praed\u014dnibus aut cum nigr\u012bt\u012bs foret c\u014dnfl\u012bgendum; n\u0113ve, \npropter subitum aliquod in Eur\u014dp\u0101 bellum, L\u016bsit\u0101ni\u0101 implic\u0101t\u0101, \nn\u014ds tamquam L\u016bsit\u0101n\u012b lacesser\u0113mur. Ignipultae quoque inerant \npl\u016br\u0113s, pars v\u0113nand\u014d, alia pars pugnae apta. Simul pulveris \nnitr\u0101t\u012b plumb\u012bque rotund\u0101t\u012b vim magnam veh\u0113b\u0101mus, atque ade\u014d \nhominem \u016bnum t\u014dt\u012b re\u012b jacul\u0101t\u014driae praefectum: Artill\u0101tor \nappell\u0101b\u0101tur. H\u0101rum r\u0113rum imp\u0113ns\u0101 vald\u0113 minuitur neg\u014dti\u0101t\u014dribus \nlucrum, nisi quod h\u014dc in commerci\u014d merx quae export\u0101tur \nv\u012blissima est; quae report\u0101tur, preti\u014dsissima. \n54. Aliquot fab\u0101s pr\u012bm\u0101 in rate asport\u0101v\u012b. Quamquam sci\u0113bam \nmagnam hujus cib\u012b vim n\u0101v\u012b fuisse impositam, sed \u012bnfr\u0101 in alve\u014d, \ncr\u0113did\u012b mar\u012bn\u0101 aqu\u0101 corruptam esse. Nihil\u014dminus d\u0113scend\u014d. Puppim \nversus omnia sicca erant; in \u012bnferi\u014dre parte aqua st\u0101gn\u0101bat. Sed \nn\u014dn m\u0113 illud repellit. \u012anfr\u0101 n\u016bdus, per aquam inc\u0113d\u014d, quae gen\u016b \natting\u0113bat, scr\u016btorque merc\u0113s palpand\u014d: tandem sacc\u014ds inveni\u014d \nfab\u012bs pl\u0113n\u014ds. \u016anum h\u014drum plac\u0113bat \u0101vehere, sed quand\u014d c\u014dnor, \nneque\u014d ad tabul\u0101ta extollere. R\u0113 d\u0113l\u012bber\u0101t\u0101, n\u014dn operae pretium \nvid\u0113tur d\u0113 cib\u014d madid\u014d lab\u014drem pendere; nam asserv\u0101r\u012b posse quis \nspoponderit? 55. Mox r\u0113s d\u016br\u0101s ac\u016bt\u0101sque sub pedibus senti\u014d; \nipsa erant ferr\u0101menta, quae inter merc\u0113s nostr\u0101s imper\u0101veram. \nP\u0101lae, pl\u0101n\u0113 nostr\u0101tium \u012bnstar, profect\u014d n\u014dn inerant; tantum \nlig\u014dn\u0113s, furcill\u0101taeque marrae, praeter sarcula ac dol\u0101br\u0101s. \nDeinde in sec\u016br\u0113s incid\u014d. T\u0101l\u0113s r\u0113s sub aqu\u0101 d\u012bj\u016bdic\u0101re, paulum \ndifficile erat. Num operae esset pretium auferre,\u2014dubit\u0101bam. \nTandem aliquot cujusque generis ass\u016bm\u014d, praesertim capita \nsec\u016brium ac lig\u014dnum. 56. Poste\u0101 f\u0113l\u012bcior eram. Nam in concl\u0101v\u012b \nqu\u014ddam, quod coqu\u012b nostr\u012b erat proprium, qu\u012bnque offend\u012b corb\u0113s, \nfab\u0101rum pl\u0113n\u0101s, appr\u012bm\u0113 sicc\u0101rum. H\u0101s c\u016br\u0101tius rep\u014dn\u014d \u0101vehend\u0101s, \net aliam post aliam c\u016bnct\u0101s d\u0113mum ad terram d\u0113port\u014d salv\u0101s. 57. \nPorr\u014d dum m\u0113nsam fabr\u012blem \u0101mov\u0113bam, quae supr\u0101 erat, n\u014dn in \nalve\u014d, p\u014dne in angul\u014d fasc\u0113s qu\u014dsdam mercium ret\u0113x\u012b. H\u014ds aperi\u014d. \nIntus erant versicol\u014dr\u0113s vest\u0113s, qu\u0101s propter \u0100fr\u014drum commercium \nimper\u0101veram. Avid\u0113 corripi\u014d, sed nesci\u0113bam qu\u0101r\u0113. Poste\u0101 \nnumer\u0101v\u012b, inv\u0113n\u012bque sex\u0101gint\u0101. C\u0113terae, ut op\u012bnor, fuerant in \nalve\u014d. \n58. Duodecim\u014d m\u0101ne, ut r\u0113mig\u014d ex port\u016b ratem p\u014dne trah\u0113ns, \nfl\u016bctus asperior aliquantum aquae in cymbam imm\u012bsit. Exhaur\u012bre \nsimul atque r\u0113mig\u0101re n\u014dn poteram: s\u012b r\u0113m\u014ds inhib\u0113rem, ver\u0113bar n\u0113 \nd\u0113flexa curs\u016b cymba latus und\u012bs objiceret. In portum, ut t\u016btius, \nstatim rede\u014d: ibi r\u014dborandam suscipi\u014d cymbam. Alti\u014drem faci\u014d \npr\u014dram, addit\u012bs tabul\u012bs, quae, ferre\u012bs virg\u012bs firm\u0101tae, \naliquantum asperginis possint rejicere. N\u014dn long\u012b lab\u014dris erat \nillud; sed nimius ventus m\u0113 terr\u0113bat, igitur reliquum diem \nscaphae add\u012bx\u012b. 59. Illud c\u014dns\u012bder\u0101veram. Naufragium recente \nl\u016bn\u0101 pass\u012b er\u0101mus ips\u012bs in Kalend\u012bs Septembribus. Ad pl\u0113nil\u016bnium \niterum intum\u0113scente \u014ccean\u014d posse cr\u0113d\u0113bam sublev\u0101r\u012b scapham; \ngrande m\u014dmentum, serv\u0101r\u0113tur-ne an pr\u014drsus c\u014dnfringer\u0113tur. Ex \narc\u012bs me\u012bs \u016bnam d\u0113lig\u014d, aquae (s\u012bqu\u0101 alia) impenetr\u0101bilem. \nQuidquid in scaph\u0101 \u012bnfirmum vid\u0113tur, summ\u0101 me\u0101 arte refici\u014d, seu \nstupp\u0101 ac pice, seu argill\u0101 vitre\u0101ri\u0101 opus sit. Simul ac aestus \nrecesserat, ancoram quam longissim\u0113 per ar\u0113n\u0101s mare versus \ntrah\u014d, su\u014d ancor\u0101l\u012b artius scaphae collig\u0101tam. Dentem ancorae \nfirmiter d\u0113f\u012bg\u014d, quoad possum. Ips\u014d in ancor\u0101l\u012b, circ\u0101 septem \nped\u0113s ab ancor\u0101, f\u016bnem brevem n\u014dd\u014d astrictissim\u014d implic\u014d; mox \nh\u016bc d\u0113port\u0101tam arcam e\u014ddem f\u016bne connect\u014d. 60. Illud \u0113venit, quod \nsp\u0113r\u0101veram. Arca, aest\u016b \u012bnsurgente sublev\u0101ta, simul ut ad \nscapham aqua perting\u0113bat, (nam ego cum sp\u0113 met\u016bque c\u016bncta \nnot\u0101bam) inc\u0113pit scapham attrahere. Tum pr\u014d c\u016bp\u0101[B] natante arca \nmihi erat. C\u014dnfestim d\u0113curr\u014d ad cymbam. Per aestum r\u0113mig\u014d, ubi \npropter altit\u016bdinem aquae fl\u016bctus n\u014dn s\u0113 frang\u0113bat; et ut pr\u012bmum \nscapham assequor, eam remulc\u014d inhib\u0113ns, solv\u014d ancor\u0101le; nam \nancoram extrahere, nimi\u012b id fuisset temporis. Mox, ov\u0101ns et \npraegesti\u0113ns, scapham in portum d\u0113d\u016bc\u014d incolumem. Haec in \nduodecim\u014d erant di\u0113. 61. M\u0101ne \u012bnsequente, quum speculor, senti\u014d \nmar\u012b male cr\u0113d\u012b: tamen qu\u0101sdam etiam r\u0113s volu\u012b \u0113ripere, quamquam \nrat\u012b n\u014dn c\u014dnf\u012bd\u0113bam. Sc\u0101l\u0101s n\u0101vis ac toll\u0113n\u014dnem ad ultimum \nrel\u012bqueram. Optim\u0101s hab\u0113bat for\u0113s diaeta[C] pr\u012bncip\u0101lis: h\u0101s \nconcup\u012bv\u012b, quia bon\u0101 erant fabric\u0101. Cardin\u0113s facile \u0101vell\u014d: \nfor\u0113s reste firmiter collig\u014d. Dein s\u016bcul\u0101s[D] cum trochle\u012bs[E] \nass\u016bmps\u012b; ips\u012bus porr\u014d toll\u0113n\u014dnis ferr\u0101menta omnia: sed scapum \nr\u014dstrumque ejus, quae lignea erant, trahenda per aqu\u0101s \nd\u0113stin\u0101v\u012b, cum sc\u0101l\u012bs et foribus. Ferreum onus, \u016bn\u014d homine n\u014dn \ngravius, in cymb\u0101 d\u0113cern\u014d asport\u0101re. \n62. Impigr\u0113 redi\u012b, sed aestus in h\u014dr\u0101s magis tum\u0113sc\u0113bat. Tunc \nquum maxim\u0113 intr\u0101bam port\u016bs \u014dstium, agmen p\u014dne tractum ade\u014d \ndisject\u0101bat cymbam, ut ego perterritus f\u016bn\u0113s necess\u0101ri\u014d \nabsolverim, n\u0113 d\u0113mergerer. Incolumis egomet post\u0113s ill\u014ds \npraetere\u014d, laetus quod n\u012bl mihi cymbaeque accidisset, praeter \nasperginem prof\u016bsam. 63. Ventus etiam atque etiam incr\u016bd\u0113sc\u0113bat: \npost tr\u0113s h\u014dr\u0101s violenta fl\u0101bat procella, quae t\u014dtam per noctem \nfur\u0113bat. M\u0101ne, ut pr\u014dspex\u012b, \u0113v\u0101nuerat n\u0101vis. \nCAPUT (III.) TERTIUM. \n64. Equidem ut vacuum aspect\u0101bam mare, neque lacrim\u0101tus sum \nneque gemu\u012b, n\u0113 agit\u0101bar quidem anim\u014d. Sed tenerum quendam \nsenti\u0113bam affectum, tamquam s\u012b fess\u0101 aet\u0101te par\u0113ns, cujus magn\u012bs \nfruimur benefici\u012bs, l\u0113gitim\u0113 ac necess\u0101ri\u014d d\u0113cessisset. Imm\u014d n\u014dn \ntam n\u0101vis quam egomet vid\u0113bar obiisse mortem. Ab hominibus \nabscindor, nov\u014d sum in orbe r\u0113rum, ast\u014d tamquam in aeternit\u0101tis \ns\u014dlit\u016bdine. Ign\u014dtus m\u0113 circumambit Deus, cujus senti\u014d tum \nmisericordiam tum sev\u0113rit\u0101tem, m\u0113 ipsum culp\u0101ns sed n\u014dn am\u0101r\u0113, \nnec sine mod\u014d. N\u014dn in genua pr\u014dcumb\u014d; n\u014dn prec\u0113s, n\u014dn v\u014dta \nconcipi\u014d; gr\u0101t\u0113s n\u014dn effund\u014d, nec paenitentiam; tamen caeca \nquaedam, ut op\u012bnor, m\u0113 penetr\u0101bat vener\u0101ti\u014d. Cert\u0113 eram et \ntranquillissimus, et quasi religi\u014ds\u0113 d\u0113f\u012bxus. 65. Ex h\u014dc stat\u016b \nm\u0113 experg\u0113facit canis, amanter blandi\u0113ns. \u201c\u0100h! quam vellem \nposs\u0113s colloqu\u012b,\u201d inquam cl\u0101r\u0113; et am\u014dre erg\u0101 canem \nhaediculamque meam atque ips\u0101s f\u0113l\u0113s vald\u0113 pertentor. Prope \npaenitet m\u0113, quod capram m\u0101trem occ\u012bd\u012b. Quoniam br\u016bta anim\u0101lia, \ns\u012b modo reciproc\u0101re am\u014drem possint, comm\u016bnem habent n\u014db\u012bs \nsoci\u0101lemque n\u0101t\u016bram, n\u014dl\u014d v\u012btam \u0113ripere temer\u0113. Haec c\u014dgit\u0101ns, \n\u012bnsuper memin\u012b, parcere nitr\u0101t\u014d pulver\u012b quam sit bonum, pondus \ncaprae quam fuerit molestum. Paul\u014d post quaer\u0113bam, c\u016br, s\u012b \nv\u012bctum terra subjicit, m\u0101lim fer\u0101rum m\u014dre rapt\u0101s v\u012bt\u0101s praed\u0101r\u012b. \nIlla s\u0101n\u0113 quaesti\u014d profundius in pectus d\u0113scendit, postquam \n\u016bbert\u0101tem \u012bnsulae pl\u0113nius compertam habu\u012b. 66. Sed exsult\u014d, et \np\u0101st\u012bs anim\u0101libus, d\u0113 fab\u012bs me\u012bs satag\u014d, qu\u0101rum aliqu\u0101s aqu\u0101 \ncoct\u0101s velim, pr\u014d canis cib\u0101t\u016b. Poste\u0101 h\u0101s coqu\u0113bam cum carnis \nfrust\u012bs, cum s\u0113b\u014d, l\u0101rd\u014d, d\u0113mum piscibus vel ole\u014d; faci\u0113bamque \nmass\u0101s quadr\u0101t\u0101s: tum s\u012b aliunde nihil foret in prompt\u016b, hinc et \ncanem et f\u0113l\u0113s p\u0101sc\u0113bam. Semper d\u0113nique h\u014dc mod\u014d pauxillulum \ncarnis aut piscium pr\u014d cond\u012bment\u014d adjung\u0113bam fab\u012bs, far\u012bnae vel \nr\u0101d\u012bcibus. \n67. Poster\u014d di\u0113, cael\u014d ser\u0113n\u014d et mar\u012b tranquill\u014d, ligna \ntoll\u0113n\u014dnis et diaetae for\u0113s \u0113jecta sunt in l\u012btore; cum min\u014dre \nd\u0113tr\u012bment\u014d quam quis exspect\u0101verit. H\u0101s r\u0113s, ut pr\u012bmum possum, \ncitr\u0101 vim und\u0101rum trah\u014d; d\u0113nique in cavern\u0101s ill\u0101s, d\u0113 quibus \nd\u012bx\u012b, d\u0113p\u014dn\u014d, et quand\u014d ab ali\u012bs operibus vac\u014d, restitu\u014d \ntoll\u0113n\u014dnis ferr\u0101menta. Poste\u0101 hunc ad n\u0101v\u0101le meum c\u014dnstitu\u012b, \npropter \u016bs\u016bs scaphae. 68. Sed d\u0113 domicili\u014d me\u014d multa erant \nd\u0113cernenda. Cavern\u0101s in r\u016bpe qu\u014d l\u0101tius expl\u014dr\u0101veram, magis \nadm\u012bror. Ultr\u0101 numerum vid\u0113bantur. Aliae pat\u0113bant, sine extern\u014d \npariete, tamquam porticus aut ambul\u0101crum; aliae angust\u0101 j\u0101nu\u0101, \nintus camer\u0101tae, j\u016bnctae sunt item intern\u012bs \u014dsti\u012bs, ita ut t\u014dta \nr\u016bp\u0113s velut spongia esse posset. 69. Contempl\u0101ns cr\u0113did\u012b, h\u0101s \nmar\u012b esse excav\u0101t\u0101s: nam sub pedibus pav\u012bmentum erat saxeum, \nmolliter tamquam fl\u016bctibus rotund\u0101tum, et quasi per l\u0101tissim\u014ds \ngrad\u016bs ascend\u0113ns. Omnia mea possem h\u012bc optim\u0101 cum discipl\u012bn\u0101 \ndisp\u014dnere; sed d\u0113 cubicul\u014d erat praecipu\u0113 c\u014dgitandum; nec \nlib\u0113bat arborem meam prius relinquere, quam m\u016bn\u012btius quiddam \nreper\u012brem. 70. Illud animadvert\u012b,\u2014nihil sax\u014drum praeter l\u012btus \njac\u0113re, quod \u0101 r\u016bpe cecidisset; et quidem ubi gel\u016b est ign\u014dtum, \nr\u0101rior esse d\u0113bet t\u0101lis r\u016bpium l\u0101b\u0113s. Porr\u014d pav\u012bmenta cavern\u0101rum \nparc\u0101 tantum ar\u0113n\u0101 vesti\u0113bantur, tamquam vent\u014d ill\u0101t\u0101. Lac\u016bn\u0101ria \nfer\u0113 camer\u0101ta erant, h\u012bc atque h\u012bc quasi st\u012bri\u0101rum mass\u012bs \ndist\u012bncta. Aqu\u0101s per r\u016bpem stillant\u0113s cr\u0113diderim sax\u014d satur\u0101t\u0101s \nfuisse. 71. L\u012btus externum, propius und\u0101s, alg\u0101rum erat fer\u0101x; \ninternum, ultr\u0101 summ\u014ds aest\u016bs, ali\u0101 qu\u0101dam alg\u0101 et cact\u012bs \nali\u012bsque sp\u012bn\u014ds\u012bs fruticibus oppl\u0113b\u0101tur. Pl\u016br\u0113s h\u014drum in decem \nped\u0113s surg\u0113bant, aliquot in qu\u012bndecim. Ex h\u012bs silva pl\u016brima et \nquasi umbr\u0101culum ante cavern\u0101s praetex\u0113b\u0101tur, n\u0113 quis \u0113 mar\u012b vel \n\u0101 r\u016bpe opposit\u0101 facile intr\u014d perspiceret. Ego autem, arrept\u0101 \nsec\u016br\u012b, continuam sub r\u016bpe aperi\u0113bam s\u0113mitam, succ\u012bs\u012bs cact\u012bs \nc\u0113ter\u012bsque, quidquid nimium obst\u0101ret. Jamque velut in meam \nv\u012bllam m\u0113 recond\u014d. 72. \u0112 cavern\u012bs du\u0101s praesertim d\u0113not\u0101v\u012b, \u016bnam \npr\u014d cubicul\u014d, alteram pr\u014d pen\u0101ri\u0101. Utraque internum hab\u0113bat \n\u014dstium, per quod aura fl\u0101bat sal\u016bbris. S\u0113nseram autem, et apud \nMaur\u014ds et in Braz\u012bli\u0101, quantum nox fr\u012bgidula corpus ferv\u014dribus \nadustum fov\u0113ret atque recre\u0101ret; et s\u012b in magic\u0101 h\u0101c horrend\u0101que \n\u012bnsul\u0101 (s\u012bc eam quand\u014dque vacu\u012bs ocul\u012bs contempl\u0101bar) per summ\u014ds \ncal\u014dr\u0113s habitandum mihi foret, t\u0101le cubiculum magn\u012b aestim\u0101bam. \nOpera quaedam h\u012bc medit\u0101bar, s\u012b h\u016bc mea omnia congererem; \npropter quod c\u014dnsult\u014d opus erat. 73. Mar\u012b seu terr\u0101, ipsam \nratem, s\u012bve bona mea ex rate, d\u0113d\u016bcerem, aut per\u012bcul\u014dsum aut \nlab\u014dri\u014dsum fore op\u012bn\u0101bar. Mox subit haed\u012b c\u016bra, cui neque \np\u0101bulum h\u014dc in loc\u014d hab\u0113bam neque aquam dulcem. Mihimet profect\u014d \naquam impr\u012bm\u012bs anqu\u012brere opus erat: sed n\u014dn di\u016b hujus re\u012b \ninopiam queror. 74. Etenim postquam per sp\u012bn\u0101s frutic\u0113t\u012b longius \npatef\u0113c\u012b viam, et dulcem aquam et n\u0101v\u0101le scaphae id\u014dneum \ninveni\u014d. Post qu\u012bngent\u014ds amplius ped\u0113s abrupta humus erat, alve\u014d \nmar\u012bn\u014d intus penetrante, tamquam \u014dsti\u014d r\u012bvul\u012b. Intelleg\u014d alveum \nhunc, quasi fl\u016bmen submar\u012bnum, ad Post\u0113s Saxe\u014ds continu\u0101r\u012b; \nintus autem n\u0101v\u0101le, mihi satis profundum, etiam in recess\u016b \naest\u016bs praeb\u0113r\u012b. 75. Hunc in alveum r\u012bvus \u0113 terr\u0101 praeceps \nd\u0113curr\u0113bat. Spatium autem praetereund\u012b inter r\u016bpem alveumque \nsatis l\u0101tum pat\u0113bat, succ\u012bs\u012bs modo fruticibus. Jam toll\u0113n\u014dnem \nmente d\u0113stin\u014d in margine \u0113rigendum: sed rede\u014d contentus in \nvallem, d\u0113 \u014drdin\u0101ti\u014dne bon\u014drum me\u014drum medit\u0101ns. 76. Omnia d\u0113 \npr\u012bm\u0101 ill\u0101 rate d\u0113trah\u014d disp\u014dn\u014dque subter qu\u0101dam arbore, cum \nips\u0101 ratis m\u0101teri\u0113. Lat\u0113re vol\u0113bam, s\u012b forte quis adven\u012bret. \nPl\u016brim\u0101s caed\u014d virg\u0101s, quae facillim\u0113 \u016bd\u014d in sol\u014d possint \nfrond\u0113scere, h\u0101sque ita d\u0113f\u012bg\u014d, ut quam maxim\u0113, quidquid sit \nintus, obtegant. H\u016bc d\u0113d\u016bc\u014d haedum, velut suum in praesaepe. \nCist\u0101s quae pec\u016bniam, quae astrologicam supellectilem, quae \npulverem nitr\u0101tum contin\u0113bant, h\u0101s et caps\u0101s scr\u012bpt\u014dri\u0101s \nali\u0101sque r\u0113s min\u014dr\u0113s, singul\u0101tim ad cavern\u0101s asport\u0101v\u012b: poste\u0101 \ncul\u012bnae \u012bnstr\u016bmentum. \n77. Post aliquot di\u0113s, h\u012bs r\u0113bus \u014drdin\u0101t\u012bs, cael\u014d ser\u0113n\u014d, c\u0113nse\u014d \nd\u0113ambulandum. Caput \u012bnful\u0101 d\u0113ns\u0101, Turc\u0101rum m\u014dre, obvolvor; quod \nquidem in Braz\u012bli\u0101 faci\u0113bam. Balte\u014d pistol\u012bsque succingor. \nGrandem cultrum plic\u0101tilem s\u016bm\u014d ac p\u0113ram; dein convallem ascend\u014d \njuxt\u0101 r\u012bpam fl\u016bminis. Nov\u0101 in regi\u014dne omnia n\u014dn possum l\u0113ct\u014dris \nanim\u014d subjicere, quae me\u012bs occurr\u0113bant ocul\u012bs; sed pl\u016bra c\u014dn\u0101bor \npaul\u0101tim exped\u012bre. 78. Avium versicol\u014drum tanta erat multit\u016bd\u014d, \nut nisi in Braz\u012bli\u0101 praerept\u0101 mihi esset adm\u012br\u0101ti\u014d, tunc \nobstup\u0113scerem. H\u012bc autem m\u0113 praesertim allici\u0113bat pulcherrima \nilla avicula, quam in Occident\u0101libus \u012bnsul\u012bs Angl\u012b aviculam \nbombilantem appellant. Pl\u016bra quidem hujus generis passim \nvolit\u0101bant, item m\u012bra p\u0101pili\u014dnum variet\u0101s. 79. Imm\u014d, n\u014dn modo \nalia pr\u014drsus arborum, fruticum, gr\u0101minum, foli\u014drum genera \napp\u0101r\u0113bant, nostr\u012bs hominibus ign\u014dt\u016b, v\u0113rum etiam fer\u0113 omnis \narbor rept\u0101t\u014dri\u012bs fruticibus, v\u012btium aut heder\u0101rum ad \u012bnstar, \nvesti\u0113b\u0101tur; atque ade\u014d, obru\u0113bantur pl\u016brimae. \u0112 tant\u0101 variet\u0101te \nvix quidquam pr\u012bm\u014d poteram agn\u014dscere: c\u0113terum impr\u012bm\u012bs anqu\u012br\u014d \nesculent\u0101s r\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s atque ignis alimentum. 80. Quidquid junc\u014drum \nobviam v\u0113nit vel cann\u0101rum, medullam expl\u014dr\u0101v\u012b, anne id\u014dneum \npraeb\u0113ret f\u014dmitem. Tria d\u0113mum genera in p\u0113ram s\u0113l\u0113cta condid\u012b, \nquae exper\u012bment\u014d prob\u0101rem. \u0100rid\u0101s s\u012bve lign\u012b s\u012bve lign\u014ds\u014drum \nfoli\u014drum reliqui\u0101s celerrim\u0101 flamm\u0101 \u0101rs\u016br\u0101s cr\u0113d\u0113bam. T\u0101lis \nm\u0101teriae pl\u016br\u0113s asport\u0101v\u012b pugill\u014ds. Rub\u014ds quoque not\u0101v\u012b d\u016bm\u014dsque \n\u0101rid\u014ds, ex quibus imm\u0113nsa c\u014dpia cremand\u014d sufficer\u0113tur. 81. Mox \nfruticem vide\u014d, qu\u012b piper gignit; sed magis gaud\u0113bam, quod \ndiosc\u014dre\u0101s \u0113sculent\u0101s inv\u0113n\u012b mult\u0101s. Duo h\u0101rum genera optima pr\u014d \ncert\u014d agn\u014dveram,\u2014quae \u0101l\u0101ta appell\u0101tur, et quae glob\u014dsa. \nUlterius perscr\u016bt\u0101ns, ade\u014d abund\u0101re intelleg\u014d h\u0101s r\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s, ut, \ns\u012b c\u014dnserv\u0101r\u012b possint, cibus semper fut\u016brus sit in prompt\u016b. Jam \ncinch\u014dnam vide\u014d arborem, collig\u014dque r\u0101mul\u014ds pl\u016br\u0113s. N\u0113 longus \nsim, satis sit n\u0101rr\u0101re, m\u0113 circ\u0101 h\u014ds loc\u014ds poste\u0101 inv\u0113nisse \nmedic\u0101s qu\u0101sdam herb\u0101s, qu\u0101s in Braz\u012bli\u0101 didiceram, et ali\u0101s \nqu\u0101s pr\u014d cond\u012bment\u012bs cib\u014drum aestim\u0101bam. 82. Accl\u012bvit\u0101s vallis \naug\u0113sc\u0113bat. Vix quattuor m\u012bllia passuum aestus mar\u012bnus in terram \npenetrat; sed modicus r\u012bvus pl\u016br\u0113sque r\u012bvul\u012b d\u0113scend\u0113bant per \nplant\u0101s et arbuscul\u0101s. Propius ad coll\u0113s d\u0113nsantur generum \nd\u012bvers\u014drum arbor\u0113s, grand\u0113s aliquot. Nova simul atque \u0101rida \nfolia in e\u0101dem c\u014dnsist\u0113bant arbore, id quod col\u014dr\u0113s pulcherrim\u014ds \ncontend\u0113bat: imm\u014d, exori\u0113bantur fr\u016bctuum germina ips\u014d \u0113 r\u0101m\u014d, \nunde pend\u0113bant fr\u016bct\u016bs putr\u0113scent\u0113s. 83. Qu\u012bnque vel sex m\u012bllia \ncontinu\u0101v\u012b iter, semper ascend\u0113ns convallem. \u0112n v\u0113r\u014d, h\u012bc loc\u012b \nseges illa preti\u014dsissim\u0101 bland\u012btur ocul\u012bs, z\u0113a vir\u014dre et aur\u014d \nfulg\u0113ns. Pl\u0113n\u0113 m\u0101t\u016bram cr\u0113did\u012b. Hum\u012b jac\u0113bant gr\u0101na pl\u016brima et \nsiliquae. Pig\u0113bat m\u0113, quod major mihi p\u0113ra n\u014dn erat in prompt\u016b. \nQuantum potu\u012b, \u012bnferci\u0113bam, jamque pr\u014d cert\u014d hab\u0113bam cibum mihi \nnumquam d\u0113fore. Tandem coll\u0113s sinistr\u012b s\u0113 d\u0113m\u012bs\u0113re; atque alia \nvallis, l\u0101tior atque amoenissima, quasi hort\u014ds viridissim\u014ds in \nsin\u016b su\u014d retegit. In fronte mihi assurg\u0113bant juga alti\u014dra, \nmont\u0113s paene d\u012bcerem, spiss\u012bs vest\u012bta herb\u012bs, ex quibus undique \nstill\u0101bant r\u012bvul\u012b perenn\u0113s. Arbor\u0113s fr\u016bctific\u0101s adm\u012bror, inter \nqu\u0101s dispici\u0113ns agn\u014dsc\u014d citr\u014ds, aure\u0101s m\u0101l\u014ds,[F] et Assyri\u0101s \nm\u0101l\u014ds, qu\u0101s l\u012bm\u014dn\u0101s appell\u0101mus. S\u0101n\u0113 j\u016bcundissimus erat r\u016bris \naspectus, m\u0113que s\u0113ns\u012b esse opulentum l\u0101tifundi\u014drum dominum. \nUtramque vallem mihi tamquam proprium pr\u014dtinus asser\u014d, n\u014dmin\u014dque \npri\u014drem convallem meam, vel Convallem Fl\u016bminis, alteram Hort\u014ds \nme\u014ds. \n84. Multum m\u0113 allici\u0113bat hort\u014drum amoenit\u0101s, c\u014dpia arborum et \ndulcis aquae, d\u0113f\u0113nsi\u014dque montium. D\u0113l\u012bber\u0101bam d\u0113 commigrand\u014d \nill\u016bc, nisi quod n\u014dllem maris pr\u014dspectum \u0101mittere, s\u012b n\u0101vis \nven\u012bret: imm\u014d, pr\u014drsus n\u014dlu\u012b cymbae scaphaeque \u016bs\u016bs ren\u016bnti\u0101re: \nnecn\u014dn per pluvi\u0101l\u0113s h\u014dr\u0101s nihil cum cavern\u012bs me\u012bs vid\u0113b\u0101tur \ncontendere. Etenim h\u0101c in regi\u014dne cael\u012b liqu\u0113bat mihi d\u012brissim\u0101s \naliquand\u014d esse expectand\u0101s procell\u0101s, quae tent\u014dria ac domicilia \nperverterent; t\u0101l\u012b in tempest\u0101te n\u012bl cavern\u012bs esse comparandum. \nPig\u0113bat m\u0113 vid\u0113re fr\u016bct\u016bs pl\u016brim\u014ds et optim\u014ds hum\u012b pr\u014dstr\u0101t\u014ds et \naqu\u0101 putr\u0113scent\u0113s. Arbor\u0113s passim vim vent\u012b pr\u014dd\u0113bant. Sine \ndubi\u014d autumn\u0101l\u0113s procellae tant\u0101s f\u0113cerant ru\u012bn\u0101s. S\u0113rius ego \nh\u014ds in loc\u014ds pr\u014dcesseram, messe fr\u016bctuum praeterit\u0101. Attamen h\u014dc \nsub astr\u014d tam vegeta est v\u012bs terrae genit\u0101lis, ut nov\u012b fr\u016bct\u016bs \napp\u0101r\u0113rent, qu\u012b mox possent m\u0101t\u016br\u0113scere. Pl\u016br\u0113s h\u014drum concup\u012bv\u012b, \net d\u0113 mod\u014d convehend\u012b medit\u0101bar. \n85. Redi\u012b ad cavern\u0101s alacer anim\u012b, c\u016br\u0101rum obl\u012btus. P\u0113ram \noppl\u0113veram ill\u012bs r\u0113bus qu\u0101s memor\u0101v\u012b; locul\u014ds autem vestium \nar\u014dmat\u012bs, gumm\u012bne et citre\u012bs m\u0101l\u012bs aliquot. Pr\u014dtinus nov\u014ds \nth\u0113saur\u014ds c\u016br\u0101t\u0113 d\u012bger\u014d. D\u0113nique \u0101 cavern\u012bs in arborem meam \npropter noctem retr\u014d c\u0113dere, paul\u014d lab\u014dri\u014dsius vid\u0113tur. \n86. M\u0101ne quum experg\u012bscor, senti\u014d di\u0113rum m\u0113 \u0101m\u012bsisse \ncomput\u0101ti\u014dnem. N\u0113 pr\u014drsus fierem barbarus, ad discipl\u012bnam \npuer\u012blem m\u0113 red\u016bx\u012b. Di\u0113s incipi\u014d in digit\u012bs numer\u0101re. Quid \n\u016bn\u014dqu\u014dque di\u0113 f\u0113cerim, ego mihimet recit\u014d; inde comperi\u014d, qu\u012bnam \nsit hodiernus di\u0113s. Tum vol\u014d math\u0113maticus rati\u014dn\u0113s retract\u0101re. \nD\u012bx\u012b m\u0113 quattuor libr\u014ds \u0113 n\u0101v\u012b \u0101v\u0113xisse. \u016anus erat precum \nsacr\u0101rum libellus, secundum norm\u0101s Pap\u0101l\u0113s: alterum erat d\u0113 \nGe\u014dgraphi\u0101: tertium nihil hab\u0113bat nisi numer\u014ds ad \u016bsum n\u0101vigand\u012b \nd\u012bgest\u014ds: qu\u0101rtus ipsam naut\u0101rum math\u0113maticam tract\u0101bat. Hanc \nperleg\u014d libenter. Quippe n\u014dn s\u014dlum s\u014dlit\u016bdine animum \u0101vertit, \nsed absol\u016btius quiddam et subl\u012bmius subj\u0113cit c\u014dgitant\u012b, n\u0113 \nsemper d\u0113 me\u012bs tantummodo c\u016br\u012bs satagerem. \n87. Quaerere potest l\u0113ctor, qu\u012b factum sit, ut ego, patre inv\u012bt\u014d \nn\u0101vig\u0101ns, nauticam math\u0113maticam \u0113didicerim. Vid\u0113licet, admodum \njuvenis Londinium peti\u012b, n\u0101vem anqu\u012bs\u012bt\u016brus, in qu\u0101 peregr\u0113 \n\u012brem. Magna mihi tunc illa f\u0113l\u012bcit\u0101s vid\u0113b\u0101tur, quod h\u016bm\u0101nissim\u014d \ncuidam vir\u014d, n\u0101vis magistr\u014d, incid\u012b, in Guineam n\u0101vig\u0101t\u016br\u014d. Is \nm\u0113 cl\u0113mentissim\u0113 exceptum, pr\u014d su\u014d sod\u0101le habuit; persu\u0101sitque \nut, quantam maximam possem conqu\u012brere pec\u016bniam, hanc comm\u016bt\u0101rem \nid\u014dne\u0101 merce qu\u0101lem ipse admon\u0113bat, et apud s\u0113 colloc\u0101rem. Ego \nigitur qu\u014dsdam ex am\u012bc\u012bs pec\u016bni\u0101s rog\u0101bam, h\u012bque, ex\u014dr\u0101t\u0101 m\u0101tre \nme\u0101, fortasse etiam patre, quadr\u0101gint\u0101 l\u012bbr\u0101s Anglic\u0101s ad m\u0113 \nrem\u012bs\u0113runt. E\u0101s autem magister optimus s\u012bc administr\u0101vit, ut, ex \n\u0100fric\u0101 d\u0113mum reversus, mercem quam rettul\u012b, nempe aureum \npulverem, Londini\u012b trecent\u012bs l\u012bbr\u012bs Anglic\u012bs m\u016bt\u0101verim. Porr\u014d (\nquod eram l\u0113ct\u014dr\u012b d\u0113m\u014dnstr\u0101t\u016brus) ips\u014d in curs\u016b, cum \nbenevolenti\u0101 v\u0113r\u0113 patern\u0101, omnia quae n\u0101vis magistrum sc\u012bre \noport\u0113ret, d\u012bligentissim\u0113 m\u0113 doc\u0113bat, praesertim astrologic\u014drum \npraecepta, vi\u0101sque caelum servand\u012b. Ego s\u0101n\u0113, tant\u0101 c\u0101rit\u0101te \nd\u0113l\u0113n\u012btus, summ\u0101 industri\u0101 haec in studia incubu\u012b, redi\u012bque ex \nh\u0101c exped\u012bti\u014dne magnopere auctus mentis v\u012b, s\u012bve ad \nn\u0101vig\u0101ti\u014dnem, s\u012bve ad merc\u0101t\u016bram. Atqu\u012b, \u014c meam maximam \ncalamit\u0101tem! am\u012bcus ille summus meus atque alter pater, morb\u014d \nvehemente correptus, d\u0113cessit subit\u014d. Hujus m\u0113 tener\u0101 subit \nmemori\u0101, dum praecepta math\u0113matic\u014drum retract\u014d, dum st\u0113llam \nPol\u0101rem observ\u014d, loc\u012bque l\u0101tit\u016bdinem (quam appellant astrolog\u012b) \ncollig\u014d; item dum noctibus singul\u012bs omnium h\u014drologi\u014drum \nl\u012bbr\u0101menta convol\u016bta intend\u014d. \n88. In anim\u014d impr\u012bm\u012bs erat, ut Chr\u012bsti\u0101n\u014d m\u014dre septimum quemque \ndiem qu\u014ddammodo religi\u014ds\u0113 observ\u0101rem; enimv\u0113r\u014d m\u0113cum \nc\u014dnstitu\u0113bam sept\u0113n\u014drum di\u0113rum opera. S\u012bc (cr\u0113d\u0113bam) temporis \ncomput\u0101ti\u014dnem eram serv\u0101t\u016brus. Mox v\u012bd\u012b fore ut multa m\u0113 \nprohib\u0113rent \u016bllam praef\u012bn\u012btam lab\u014drum rotam persequ\u012b; necn\u014dn \nsine religi\u014ds\u0101 conti\u014dne r\u0113s nihil\u012b mihi erat di\u0113s Dominicus: \nitaque ad aliam rati\u014dnem m\u0113 proper\u0113 convert\u012b. Novae l\u016bnae \nobservantur facillim\u0113 et paene necess\u0101ri\u014d. N\u0101vis fr\u0101cta erat \nnocte proxim\u0101 post novam l\u016bnam: quand\u014d altera adv\u0113nit nova l\u016bna, \nd\u0113cr\u0113v\u012b m\u0113cum, atque \u016bnum d\u0113f\u014dd\u012b st\u012bpitem propter m\u0113nsem \nl\u016bn\u0101rem. Poste\u0101 \u0113legantius r\u0113s administrand\u0101s c\u0113nse\u014d. Paxill\u014ds \npraepar\u014d tredecim modic\u014ds et compar\u0113s, gem\u0113ns identidem s\u012b \n\u016bniversum annum h\u012bc mihi d\u0113gendum erit. In axe id\u014dneae \nmagnit\u016bdinis tredecim for\u0101mina terebr\u014d, ill\u012bs paxill\u012bs \naccommod\u0101ta. Quoti\u0113s redit nova l\u016bna, paxillum s\u014dlemniter \n\u012bnf\u012bg\u014d. Post l\u016bnam tredeci\u0113s nov\u0101tam, c\u016bnct\u014ds extrah\u014d paxill\u014ds, \ngrandius terebr\u014d for\u0101men et grandi\u014drem \u012bnser\u014d p\u0101lum. Hic pr\u014d \nann\u014d l\u016bn\u0101r\u012b valet. Mox pr\u014dc\u0113dente l\u016bn\u0101, m\u0113nstru\u014ds paxill\u014ds alium \npost alium restitu\u014d. H\u012bs c\u014dnstit\u016bt\u012bs, nov\u0101 qu\u012bv\u012bs l\u016bn\u0101 poteram \ncomputand\u014d affirm\u0101re, qu\u012bnam esset ille di\u0113s secundum Eur\u014dpe\u0101s \ntemporis rati\u014dn\u0113s. \nCAPUT (IV.) QU\u0100RTUM. \n89. Jam ad r\u0113s convehend\u0101s trahulam d\u0113cern\u014d par\u0101re: nam re\u012b \nfabr\u012blis n\u014dn eram imper\u012btus. Hanc profect\u014d artem in Braz\u012bli\u0101 \nmagnopere exerc\u0113bam, cum propter vari\u014ds \u016bs\u016bs, tum quia ipse m\u0113 \nanimus excit\u0101bat. Fabr\u012blis nempe opera vald\u0113 fuit necess\u0101ria \nn\u014db\u012bs, nec serv\u012bs nigr\u012bt\u012bs satis bene cognita. Faber noster \nlign\u0101rius, bonus ille quidem vir, malle\u014d fortiter feri\u0113bat, \nserr\u0101 patienter lab\u014dr\u0101bat: sed acc\u016br\u0101t\u0113 m\u0113t\u012br\u012b, coart\u0101re \ncommiss\u016br\u0101s, imm\u014d, r\u0113ctam l\u012bneam d\u016bcere, vix calluit; n\u0113dum \nd\u0113sign\u0101re opus. S\u012b novam quandam casam vel offic\u012bnam struere \noport\u0113bat, praepropera ejus industria absurdissim\u012bque err\u014dr\u0113s \nang\u0113bant m\u0113. Itaque hunc dum par\u014d doc\u0113re, ipse artem disc\u014d. \nMath\u0113matic\u0101 me\u0101 scienti\u0101 qu\u0101l\u012bcumque adj\u016btus, poteram s\u0101n\u0113 pl\u016bra \nanim\u014d m\u014dl\u012br\u012b, in chart\u0101 d\u0113scr\u012bbere, c\u014dnstituere, comput\u0101re. Mox \nips\u012bs ferr\u0101ment\u012bs man\u016b preh\u0113ns\u012bs, d\u0113l\u012bne\u0101bam, dissec\u0101bam, \nrunc\u012bn\u0101bam; nihil quod lign\u0101ri\u012b fabr\u012b est, intent\u0101tum relinqu\u014d. \n90. Jamque, ut d\u012bc\u0113bam, ad c\u014dnfingendam trahulam m\u0113 convert\u014d, \nquae et per ar\u0113n\u0101s et super levi\u014drem r\u016bpium superficiem facile \ncurrat. D\u014dli\u014d qu\u014ddam ligne\u014d, quod perfr\u0101ctum erat, d\u0113trah\u014d \ncircul\u014ds ferre\u014ds. H\u014ds, velut calce\u014ds, trabibus du\u014dbus brevibus \nparibusque, l\u0113niter curv\u0101t\u012bs, subjici\u014d. Supr\u0101, simplicissimum \nc\u014dnstitu\u014d currum, in qu\u014d veh\u0101tur onus v\u012bribus me\u012bs tract\u016b n\u014dn \nnimium. Restim add\u014d, atque f\u012bn\u012btum est opus. Quoniam in recess\u016b \naest\u016bs continuus erat ar\u0113nae marg\u014d \u0101 praesaep\u012b me\u014d usque ad \nportum, h\u0101c vi\u0101, quaecumque vellem, in anim\u014d erat trahere: nec \njam manibus humer\u012bsve port\u0101bam. Poste\u0101 domum ipsam c\u016br\u0101tius \nd\u012bger\u014d atque excol\u014d. \n91. Concl\u0101via v\u0113r\u014d habu\u012b n\u016blla; pl\u016bra quidem saepta, siquidem \n\u016bnaquaeque caverna, seu locus camer\u0101tus, erat pr\u014d saept\u014d. \nPr\u012bncip\u0101le saeptum \u2e24meum ips\u012bus\u2e25 erat cubiculum, d\u0113 cujus \nm\u016bn\u012bment\u012bs erit d\u012bcendum: dein pen\u0101ria, pr\u014d cib\u014d qu\u0101l\u012bcumque: \ntertium, cul\u012bna; tum, f\u016bm\u0101rium; deinceps arm\u0101ment\u0101rium s\u012bve \nfabrica; sextum erat m\u016bs\u0113um. In m\u016bs\u0113\u014d libr\u014ds, h\u014drologia, \nastrologicam supellectilem, l\u012bbram trutin\u0101riam, m\u0101teriam omnem \nscr\u012bpt\u014driam rep\u014dn\u014d, cum sell\u0101 \u2e24\u0113 tribus qu\u0101s hab\u0113bam\u2e25 optim\u0101. \nH\u0101rum r\u0113rum aliquot cum pec\u016bni\u0101 in cist\u012bs erant: m\u0113nsam poste\u0101 \nc\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b. Septimum saeptum contin\u0113re d\u0113b\u0113bat ignis m\u0101teriem; \nlign\u0101rium appell\u0101bam. Oct\u0101vum pr\u014d fr\u016bctu\u0101ri\u014d c\u0113d\u0113bat. Novum pr\u014d \nhaed\u012b stabul\u014d d\u0113stin\u0101bam. Decimum ac rem\u014dtissimum nitr\u0101t\u012b erat \npulveris reposit\u014drium. 92. Cubiculum autem t\u0101le fuit. Angust\u0101 ac \ncels\u0101 fenestr\u0101 intr\u0101b\u0101tur, cujus l\u012bmen qu\u012bnque ped\u0113s ab extern\u014d \nsol\u014d, du\u014ds ab intern\u014d aestim\u0101verim. Alteram intus hab\u0113bat \nfenestram, per quam aura fl\u0101bat sal\u016bbris: hanc tamen, prae mult\u0101 \nme\u0101 cauti\u014dne, tr\u0101nsenn\u0101 pr\u014dt\u0113x\u012b. D\u0113 v\u0101llanda extern\u0101 fenestr\u0101 \nc\u014dgit\u0101veram; sed arboreum meum opus imit\u0101r\u012b, in sax\u014d nimis \ndifficile vid\u0113b\u0101tur. Pl\u016br\u0113s port\u0101rum f\u014drm\u0101s c\u014dns\u012bder\u014d, mox \nrejici\u014d. Puteum potius vol\u014d sub fenestr\u0101 fodere, quem ipse \nsc\u0101l\u012bs tr\u0101nseam, dein sc\u0101l\u0101s intus ad m\u0113 retraham. 93. N\u0101v\u0101l\u0113s \nsc\u0101lae mer\u012b erant grad\u016bs ligne\u012b, firmiter c\u014dnstrict\u012b f\u016bnibus, \nqu\u012b pondus hominis t\u016bt\u014d sustent\u0101bant. In n\u0101vis latere septem \namplius d\u0113pend\u0113bant ped\u0113s. Latera nunc h\u012bs adjung\u014d lignea, \ntantummodo ut rig\u014drem, n\u014dn ut r\u014dbur addam; nam f\u016bnium r\u014dbur \nsuffici\u0113bat; sed quia flexil\u0113s erant, id h\u012bc erat incommodum. \nSc\u0101lae s\u012bc refectae octo pedum hab\u0113bant longit\u016bdinem. 94. Deinde \nlig\u014dn\u0113s recogn\u014dsc\u014d c\u016bnct\u014ds, et marr\u0101s bifurc\u0101s trifid\u0101sque, s\u012b \nquid h\u014drum possit cun\u012bcul\u0101riae hastae vicem gerere; solum enim \ncalc\u0101rium r\u014dbust\u014d eg\u0113bat ferr\u0101ment\u014d. T\u0101lia inv\u0113n\u012b \u012bnstr\u016bmenta, \nqu\u014drum ope puteum, brevem s\u0101n\u0113, d\u0113f\u014dd\u012b sub ips\u0101 fenestr\u0101, duo \ntantum ped\u0113s altum, sed quattuor amplius \u0101 r\u016bpe exstantem. Vecte \nferre\u014d, quamquam n\u014dn ac\u016bt\u014d, gravi\u014dra saxa \u0101m\u014dl\u012btus sum, postquam \ninitia penetrand\u012b fact\u016b sunt. Tum h\u014dc pute\u014d ade\u014d pr\u014dt\u0113ctus \nvid\u0113bar, ut n\u0113 \u0101 pard\u014d quidem foret metuendum. 95. Illud enim m\u0113 \nc\u014dnfirm\u0101bat, quod f\u0113l\u0113s ferae quae n\u014dn \u2e24n\u0101ribus c\u014dnf\u012bsae\u2e25 \nv\u0113nantur, numquam possent conject\u0101re, quid in me\u014d cubicul\u014d \ndorm\u012bret. Ego v\u0113r\u014d interdum serpent\u0113s quoque form\u012bd\u0101bam: sed \nnumquam n\u0113 \u016bnum quidem anguem, magnum parvumve, me\u0101 in \u012bnsul\u0101 \nv\u012bd\u012b; quae, velut Hibernia, s\u0101nct\u012b Patrici\u012b benedicti\u014dne \nvid\u0113b\u0101tur fru\u012b. St\u0113lli\u014dn\u0113s erant in cavern\u012bs, qu\u014ds fov\u0113bam, quia \nmusc\u0101s \u012bnsect\u0101sque comedunt: et s\u0101n\u0113 facile m\u0101nsu\u0113sc\u0113bant. 96. \nS\u012b lig\u014dnibus r\u0113s n\u014dn cessisset, fod\u012bnam par\u0101tus eram nitr\u0101t\u014d \npulvere displ\u014ddere. Praeterm\u012bs\u012b n\u0101rr\u0101re, m\u0113, postquam d\u014dlium \npulveris nitr\u0101t\u012b \u2e24aqu\u0101 mar\u012bn\u0101 corrupt\u012b\u2e25 d\u0113port\u0101v\u012b, intus crustam \ninv\u0113nisse d\u016bram, intr\u0101 quam pulvis siccus erat et pl\u0101n\u0113 \nincolumis. Crustam malle\u014d commin\u016btam reserv\u0101v\u012b, et pr\u014d \nexper\u012bment\u014d, vel l\u016bs\u016bs caus\u0101, aliquoti\u0113s in pyrotechnicam \nadhibueram, diff\u012bsus posse in aliquam \u016btilit\u0101tem convert\u012b. \nPoste\u0101 cr\u0113d\u0113bam r\u016bdera haec nitr\u0101ta ad fod\u012bn\u0101s displ\u014ddend\u0101s esse \naccommod\u0101ta: igitur asserv\u0101v\u012b, s\u012b forte \u016bsus ven\u012bret. 97. \nPulvere nitr\u0101t\u014d eram profect\u014d assu\u0113tissimus, d\u0113 qu\u0101 r\u0113 libet \namplius explic\u0101re l\u0113ct\u014dr\u012b. Etenim dum d\u0113g\u0113bam in Braz\u012bli\u0101, \nmaxim\u014d studi\u014d \u2e24missilis plumb\u012b d\u012brigend\u012b per\u012btiam\u2e25 col\u0113bam. Nec \ns\u0101n\u0113 umquam hujus exercit\u0101ti\u014dnis fueram ali\u0113nus; sed neque \npatriam circ\u0101 urbem, neque super mar\u012b opport\u016bnit\u0101t\u0113s eam \nexcolend\u012b reppereram. Attamen in Braz\u012bli\u0101, r\u016bre apert\u014d, \ningentibus silv\u012bs, ubi pr\u014ddigi\u014dsa \u012bnsect\u0101rum v\u012bs \u2e24m\u012brificam \navium quoque c\u014dpiam\u2e25 in aeternum praestat, s\u012b quis sub s\u014dle \npotest esse agilis, ad av\u0113s v\u0113nand\u0101s ips\u014d agr\u014d attrahitur. Pr\u012bm\u014d \nhab\u0113bam ignipultam quandam \u0101 domin\u014d me\u014d Maur\u016bsi\u014d d\u0113reptam; mox \nmeli\u014dr\u0113s quaes\u012bv\u012b, impr\u012bm\u012bs ex L\u016bsit\u0101ni\u0101. Poste\u0101 Helv\u0113tic\u012b \ncujusdam vir\u012b, qu\u012b R\u014dmae merc\u0113n\u0101ri\u014drum m\u012blitum praefectus \nfuerat, ignipult\u0101s du\u0101s vel optim\u0101s forte potu\u012b emere, \u016bnam \ndu\u014drum tub\u014drum; qu\u0101s quidem hujus f\u012blius, post patris mortem \nill\u0101tenus \u0113vag\u0101tus, inter ali\u0101s r\u0113s v\u0113ndidit. Equidem ad t\u0113la \nilla probanda in scopum aliquand\u014d coll\u012bne\u0101bam: sed quia vald\u0113 \nincertus erat \u0101 longinqu\u014d jactus, pl\u016br\u0113s ac min\u014dr\u0113s \u016bn\u014d in tub\u014d \nc\u014dnferci\u0113bam gland\u0113s, quae, per \u0101era dispersae, l\u0101tius fer\u012brent. \nFurc\u0101 item bitubam illam sustent\u0101bam, propter certi\u014drem ictum. \nEt quoniam grandi\u014dr\u0113s ill\u012bc abund\u0101bant \u0101lit\u0113s, ut vulturius, ut \nferus olor, ut gru\u0113s atque ardeae nostr\u012bs d\u012bversae,\u2014nec deest \nstr\u016bthi\u014d qu\u012bdam\u2014h\u014ds quoque pilul\u012bs ol\u014dr\u012bn\u012bs pet\u0113bam, \njaculand\u012bque omn\u012bn\u014d per\u012btissimus \u0113v\u0101s\u012b. Pr\u014dh caecit\u0101tem hominum! \nquippe nesci\u0113bam quantum in s\u014dlit\u0101ri\u0101 \u012bnsul\u0101 haec mihi ars esset \npr\u014dfut\u016bra. \n98. Simul ac cubiculum satis firm\u0101veram, volu\u012b ill\u016bc commigr\u0101re, \nc\u016bnct\u012bs cum anim\u0101libus me\u012bs. Haedus paululum clauda erat, id \nquod n\u014dn dol\u0113bam: tant\u014d minus erat m\u0113 effugit\u016bra. At v\u0113r\u014d tr\u0113s \njam mihi erant haed\u012b, d\u0113 qu\u014d n\u0101rrandum erit. C\u0113terum falc\u0101t\u014d \ngladi\u014d \u2e24quidquid id\u014dneum vid\u0113b\u0101tur herb\u0101rum aut frondium\u2e25 \nd\u0113met\u0113bam et conveh\u0113bam ad cavern\u0101s: multum s\u0101n\u0113 \u2e24s\u014dl\u012b expositum \nsicc\u0101tumque\u2e25 recondid\u012b. Haed\u014ds omn\u0113s su\u014d in stabul\u014d composu\u012b. \n99. D\u0113 nov\u012bs haed\u012bs incipit n\u0101rr\u0101tiuncula. Trahul\u0101 jam me\u0101 \nadj\u016btus, cup\u012bdinem adm\u012bseram v\u0113nand\u012b iterum, n\u0113 can\u012b f\u0113libusque \ncar\u014d d\u0113foret. Trahulam per cl\u012bv\u014ds cl\u0113menti\u014dr\u0113s s\u016brsum tr\u0101x\u012b \nsuper moll\u012b brev\u012bque herb\u0101, ignipultam in trahul\u0101 hab\u0113ns. Canem \nn\u014dn potu\u012b retin\u0113re, qu\u012bn lepuscul\u014ds v\u0113n\u0101r\u0113tur: is pr\u014drsus \n\u0113v\u0101nuit. Ego ut pr\u012bmum in scopul\u014dsum d\u0113v\u0113n\u012b iter, trahulam \nomitt\u014d, inter saxa serp\u014d. \u0112merg\u0113ns capram c\u014dnspicor cum haed\u012bs \nad st\u0101gnum herb\u014ds\u014d in pr\u0101tul\u014d. N\u014dn m\u0113 f\u016bg\u0113runt, neque \nd\u0113m\u014dnstr\u0101bant metum. D\u0113cerp\u014d gr\u0101mina, acc\u0113d\u014d propius et porrig\u014d. \nHaed\u012b accurrunt, libenterque r\u014ddunt. Ego cornua e\u014drum resticul\u012bs \ncing\u014d, et laque\u012bs bracchi\u014d me\u014d adnect\u014d. Iterum iterumque d\u0113cerp\u014d \ngr\u0101men, stude\u014dque m\u0101nsu\u0113facere. Accurrit m\u0101ter capra, grandis et \nr\u014dbusta; haec quoque \u0113 man\u016b me\u0101 com\u0113dit. Paenit\u0113bat m\u0113, quod \nvoluissem tam cicurem animantem occ\u012bdere; nunc r\u014dbusti\u014dre eam \nadnect\u014d reste. Sed ut pr\u012bmum v\u012b s\u0113 tractam sentit, violenter \nretort\u014d capite man\u016b s\u0113 me\u0101 abripit, et priusquam m\u0113 possim \nrecolligere, cum reste effugit. Exigu\u014d temporis interv\u0101ll\u014d \nconvertitur. Haed\u014ds m\u0113cum videt, et d\u012br\u0113ct\u014d curs\u016b \u2e24summ\u014d cum \nfur\u014dre\u2e25 m\u0113 petit. Magnum equidem s\u0113ns\u012b esse per\u012bculum, nam et \ncorn\u016b incurrentis et ipse impetus l\u0113t\u0101lis esse poterat. Co\u0101ctus \nm\u0113 tu\u0113r\u012b, d\u0113mittor in dextrum gen\u016b, n\u0113 d\u0113errem, ignipultam \nc\u014dnstantissim\u0113 d\u012brig\u0113ns. Vix qu\u012bndecim dist\u0101bat ped\u0113s, atque ego \nignem \u0113mitt\u014d. Quamquam capite et coll\u014d tr\u0101nsverber\u0101ta, pl\u016br\u0113s \ngress\u016bs ill\u014d impet\u016b \u0113vecta est, titub\u0101nsque ad dextram meam \npr\u014dcubuit \u0113mortua. 100. Obstup\u0113sc\u0113bam, incertus quid facerem. \nMox capram libuit omittere, haed\u014ds attin\u0113re: nec longa erat ad \npraesaepe via, per ardua d\u0113scendent\u012b. Gr\u0101mina etiam atque etiam \nd\u0113cerps\u012b recondid\u012bque in sacculum; et s\u012bquand\u014d male sequerentur \nhaed\u012b, gr\u0101men ante \u014dra ostent\u0101ns, allici\u0113bam. H\u014dc mod\u014d incolum\u0113s \nd\u0113d\u016bx\u012b, gaud\u0113ns praesertim quod m\u0101s et f\u0113mina erant. Paxill\u012bs \nceleriter prope claudam haedum adven\u0101s d\u0113pang\u014d, sugger\u014d gr\u0101mina; \ntum fest\u012bn\u014d, m\u0101trem report\u0101t\u016brus. Regressus, trahulam co\u0101ctus \nsum per asperi\u014dra loca, ut possem, subd\u016bcere, dum mortuam \nassequor, quam aegr\u0113 in trahulam comp\u014dn\u014d; dein satis lab\u014dri\u014ds\u0113 \nhanc cum ignipult\u0101 per sax\u014dsa loca d\u0113d\u016bc\u014d, mox facilius super \ncl\u012bv\u012bs herb\u014ds\u012bs. Illam, ut pri\u014drem, d\u0113mergere in p\u0113lv\u012b s\u012bve \npisc\u012bn\u0101 vol\u0113bam, sed spurcam cr\u0113did\u012b: qu\u0101r\u0113 n\u012bl melius n\u014dveram, \nquam ut in praes\u0113ns r\u0101m\u012bs frond\u014ds\u012bs corpus oper\u012brem: etenim lig\u014d \net p\u0101la n\u014dn erant in pr\u014dmpt\u016b. 101. Jam d\u0113 fer\u0101rum audenti\u0101 \nreput\u0101ns, intelleg\u014d homin\u0113s h\u0101c in \u012bnsul\u0101 esse ign\u014dt\u014ds. Id \nmultum m\u0113 s\u014dl\u0101tur; nam quantumv\u012bs s\u014dlit\u016bdinem d\u0113trect\u0101bam, \nbarbar\u014ds saev\u014dsque homin\u0113s form\u012bd\u0101bam long\u0113 amplius. Porr\u014d s\u012b \nlepor\u0113s av\u0113sque, aequ\u0113 ac capr\u012b, hominis met\u016b vacant, s\u012b nunc \nhaec anim\u0101lia facile m\u0101nsu\u0113f\u012bant, stult\u0113 absterr\u0113r\u012b op\u012bnor. \nItaque magis magisque pulver\u012b nitr\u0101t\u014d parcendum d\u0113cern\u014d, et, \nquidquid fer\u0101rum posset, m\u0101nsu\u0113faciendum. \n102. Etiam conger\u0113bam p\u0101bulum. Mult\u0101s d\u0113port\u0101bam siliqu\u0101s z\u0113\u0101 \npl\u0113n\u0101s, et diosc\u014dre\u0101s ali\u0101sque r\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s; item c\u0113pa, bulb\u014ds, \ncond\u012bmenta. Caprae secundae carnem partim sicc\u0101veram f\u016bm\u014d, \npartim sale cond\u012bveram, nec jam d\u0113 cib\u014d eram sollicitus. Du\u0101s \nvi\u0101s \u0113 cavern\u012bs ad summam r\u016bpem lig\u014dne ac vecte t\u016btius jam \nm\u016bni\u014d; \u016bnam, qu\u0101 pr\u012bm\u014d ill\u014d m\u0101ne, pr\u014dspect\u0101 scaph\u0101, per \npraecipitia atque alg\u0101s d\u0113gressus sum; alteram ex port\u016b praeter \nn\u0101v\u0101le meum. In difficili\u014dre loc\u014d \u2e24st\u012bpit\u0113s duo firmiter \nd\u0113foss\u014ds\u2e25 f\u016bne connect\u014d, qu\u014d aud\u0101cius s\u0113c\u016briusque d\u0113scendam; tum \ngradibus inc\u012bs\u012bs, opus perfici\u014d. \n103. In reportand\u0101 capr\u0101, trahulae m\u0113 qu\u014ddammodo paenit\u0113bat. In \nar\u0113n\u012bs quidem bene curr\u0113bat, item per saxa l\u0113via gr\u0101mine \nvest\u012bta; sed in fer\u0101c\u012b hum\u014d super spiss\u012bs vari\u012bsque herb\u012bs, \ninter admixt\u014ds frutic\u0113s, trahere quam port\u0101re difficilius fore \nsenti\u014d: ad diosc\u014dre\u0101s, ad z\u0113am, ad citr\u014ds ali\u014dsque fr\u016bct\u016bs \nconvehend\u014ds p\u0113r\u0101s saccul\u014dsque me\u014dsque humer\u014ds antep\u014dn\u012b oport\u0113re \ntrahulae, nisi meli\u014drem poter\u014d m\u016bn\u012bre viam: id quod m\u0113 male \nhabet. Igitur \u016bniversam v\u012bc\u012bniam expl\u014dr\u0101re cupi\u014d.\u2014D\u012bx\u012b m\u0113 ab \nexcels\u014d qu\u014ddam colle pr\u014dspect\u0101sse. H\u014dc colle \u012bnferior alter, qu\u012b \ncavern\u0101s me\u0101s fer\u0113 ex advers\u014d d\u0113spici\u0113bat, l\u012btoris aspectum \nsuperi\u014dr\u012b ad\u0113merat. Quum, asc\u0113ns\u0101 r\u016bpe, in \u012bnferi\u014dr\u012b colle ast\u014d (\nquem Speculam meam n\u014dmin\u0101v\u012b) adm\u012br\u0101ns gaud\u0113nsque propi\u014drem \nl\u012btoris \u014dram contemplor. Ad dextram, id est, ad occidentem, \nfl\u016bminis vide\u014d \u014dstium, deinde portum meum, tum in fronte \npr\u014dmontorium modicum.[G] Contr\u0101 autem ad sinistram, id est, ad \norientem, inter humil\u0113s r\u016bp\u0113s ac mare, accl\u012bvis pl\u0101niti\u0113s \narboribus pr\u014dc\u0113r\u012bs m\u012br\u0113 luxuri\u0101bat, palm\u012bs praesertim. Supr\u0101, \np\u014dne r\u016bp\u0113s, pal\u016bs quaedam seu lacus angustus extenditur: r\u016brsus \nsuper h\u014dc novus atque excelsior r\u016bpium ac sax\u014drum \u014drd\u014d, unde \npluvi\u0101s cr\u0113d\u014d in pal\u016bdem collig\u012b. In \u014dr\u0101 pal\u016bdis viridissim\u0101s \nadvert\u014d herb\u0101s, pl\u016brim\u0101sque av\u0113s aqu\u0101til\u0113s. 104. Sed ego ad \ninteri\u014dra m\u0113 convert\u014d. Ab excelsi\u014dre ill\u014d colle arbor\u0113s qu\u0101sdam \nin cav\u014d loc\u014d v\u012bderam, n\u014dn mult\u0101s ill\u0101s quidem. Jam expl\u014dr\u0101ns \nperspici\u014d omnia praeter summ\u0101s arbor\u0113s abscondita mihi tunc \nfuisse, interject\u014d qu\u014ddam \u012bnferi\u014dre gr\u016bm\u014d. Cl\u012bvus ille montis \nquasi p\u0113lv\u012b erat ingente excav\u0101tus, in quam multum aqu\u0101rum ex \nscopul\u014ds\u0101 ill\u0101 regi\u014dne c\u014dnfluit. Hae, gr\u0101minibus sustent\u0101tae, \nperpetuum suffici\u0113bant r\u012bvum, qu\u012b in fl\u016bmen, n\u014dn long\u0113 \u0101 \npraesaep\u012b me\u014d, d\u0113curr\u0113bat. Inde fuerat mihi pr\u012bmus ille dulcis \naquae haustus. H\u0101c in p\u0113lv\u012b (nam proprium hujus f\u014drmae n\u014dmen \nnesci\u014d:\u2014convallis n\u014dn erat) c\u014dnsist\u0113bant arbor\u0113s pl\u016brimae, \nEur\u014dpae\u0101rum aspectum praeferent\u0113s. Amplius poste\u0101 perscr\u016bt\u0101tus, \nrepper\u012b h\u0101s n\u014dn esse nostr\u0101tium ad \u012bnstar, tamen fr\u016bctu\u012b \nlign\u014dque \u016btil\u0113s. Hunc locum appell\u014d Saltum meum. 105. Hinc \npoteram ligna d\u0113vehere, s\u012bve ad fabr\u012bl\u0113s \u016bs\u016bs s\u012bve ignis gr\u0101ti\u0101, \nmult\u014d facilius quam \u0101 fl\u016bminis convalle. Quippe grandis r\u0101mus \nvel ipse arboris truncus, tractus seu hum\u012b d\u0113vol\u016btus, ad r\u016bpem \nerat facile d\u0113sc\u0113ns\u016brus. S\u012bc poste\u0101 saepius rem gess\u012b. Min\u014dra \nligna, quae ign\u012b d\u0113b\u0113bant \u012bnserv\u012bre, ex summ\u0101 r\u016bpe \npraecipit\u0101bam. Sed propter gravi\u014dra, quae diffring\u012b n\u014dl\u0113bam, \nr\u014dbustam d\u0113l\u0113g\u012b arborem, ipsum ad marginem, unde magis praeceps \nerat r\u016bp\u0113s. Cursu\u012b tum d\u0113volventis lign\u012b, f\u016bne circ\u0101 hujus \nst\u012bpitem contort\u014d, moderor ac temper\u014d, d\u014dnec ad fundum pervenit. \nSed haec post aliquot m\u0113ns\u0113s. \n106. Qu\u014d melius intellegat l\u0113ctor me\u0101rum r\u0113rum statum, d\u0113 sit\u016b \n\u012bnsulae et variet\u0101te tempest\u0101tum quaedam sunt d\u012bcenda. \u012ansulae \nl\u0101tit\u016bdinem (quod Ge\u014dgraph\u012b appellant) satis compertam habe\u014d: \npoteram s\u0101n\u0113 in st\u0113ll\u0101 Pol\u0101r\u012b observand\u0101 err\u0101re, sed n\u014dn multum: \ngrad\u016bs, cr\u0113d\u014d, hab\u0113bat duodecim (12\u00b0) ab aequinocti\u0101l\u012b circul\u014d, \nSeptentri\u014dn\u0113s versus. D\u0113 longit\u016bdine nihil pr\u014d cert\u014d c\u014dnfirm\u0101re \nausim: arbitror tamen atque autum\u014d eandem esse atque \u012bnsulae \nquam Portum Opulentum (Porto Rico) appellant Hisp\u0101n\u012b. Nostr\u012bs \nv\u0113r\u014d in chart\u012bs nihil omn\u012bn\u014d h\u012bc d\u0113not\u0101b\u0101tur: porr\u014d quaenam sit \nmeae \u012bnsulae longit\u016bd\u014d ge\u014dgraphica, minim\u0113 nunc r\u0113fert. Propter \ntempest\u0101tum n\u014dtitiam satis est ten\u0113re, bis in ann\u014d s\u014dlem super \nverticem \u012bnsurgere, ultim\u014d fer\u0113 Apr\u012blis di\u0113, sext\u014dque fer\u0113 \nSext\u012blis. Intr\u0101 h\u014ds continu\u0101tur aest\u0101s, quae tamen imbribus \nsatis violent\u012bs d\u012bviditur. Imber quot\u012bdi\u0101nus ac modicus fer\u0113 ad \nf\u012bnem J\u016bni\u012b m\u0113nsis cadit, sed ips\u014d in f\u012bne est s\u0101n\u0113 immodicus. \nPost hoc siccit\u0101s et calor subsequitur. Maxim\u014ds autem cal\u014dr\u0113s in \nterti\u0101 fer\u0113 parte hujus aest\u0101tis p\u014dn\u014d; vel, s\u012b ad amussim \nd\u0113notandum est, tr\u012bgint\u0101 sex di\u0113s ab \u012adibus Qu\u012bnt\u012blibus perd\u016brat \naestu\u014dsum tempus. H\u014ds intr\u0101 di\u0113s r\u0101rior est pluvia. Qui\u0113scit \nventus tr\u012bduum vel quatriduum; tum vespert\u012bnus turb\u014d s\u0101n\u0113 \nviolentus, attamen gr\u0101tissimus, \u0101era recreat. Hic r\u0113rum \u014drd\u014d \nferv\u014dribus moder\u0101tur, long\u014d m\u0113nse amplius. Tandem summa aest\u0101s \ndisturb\u0101tur et quasi convellitur horrend\u012bs et pervic\u0101cissim\u012bs \nturbinibus, s\u0113ri\u014dr\u012b in parte Sext\u012blis. Hinc procell\u014dsum illud \nmare, quod nostram abripuit n\u0101vem. In Febru\u0101ri\u014d item m\u0113nse \nd\u0113bent expect\u0101r\u012b procellae; sed neque h\u0101rum tempus praef\u012bn\u012br\u012b \npotest neque violenti\u0101 compar\u0113s sunt aest\u012bv\u012bs. In tempest\u0101te \nprocell\u014ds\u0101 abundant fulgura, post quae fr\u012bgus ossa penetrat. Sed \nhaec fr\u012bgora s\u012b excipi\u0101s, j\u016bcundissima est \u0101eris temperi\u0113s. \nPluvia ut pl\u016brimum cadit tenuis ac dulcissima tr\u0113s vel quattuor \nh\u014dr\u0101s \u016bn\u014dqu\u014dque m\u0101ne per pl\u016br\u0113s ann\u012b m\u0113ns\u0113s. Nisi per tonitrua, \nveste ad d\u0113fendendum fr\u012bgus n\u014dn opus est, sed contr\u0101 s\u014dlem \nvestiendus es. Attamen post nimium fulgur Caurus ventus pl\u016br\u0113s \nper di\u0113s m\u012brum fr\u012bgus incutit, sed semper citr\u0101 gel\u016b. Nec \ncal\u014dr\u0113s conqueror. L\u016bsit\u0101num vel Anglum hominem equidem cr\u0113d\u014d, \ns\u012b neque t\u0113m\u0113tum imbibat et carne parcissim\u0113 v\u0113sc\u0101tur, (id ipsum \napud Maur\u014ds didic\u012b,) t\u014dtum per annum posse lab\u014dr\u0101re sal\u016bbriter, \nmodo per maxim\u014ds ferv\u014dr\u0113s pr\u016bdentiam adhibeat. In hieme cert\u0113 (\nid est, dum s\u014dl \u0101 mer\u012bdi\u0113 stat) s\u012b nimium exu\u0101ris vest\u012bment\u014drum \nonus, ips\u012bs in Angli\u0101 Angl\u012bs ad lab\u014drem p\u0101r eris. Sp\u012brante Caur\u014d \npost fulgura, lacern\u0101, ac spiss\u0101 quidem, car\u0113re neutiquam potu\u012b: \nignem aliquoti\u0113s fov\u0113bam, sed r\u0101r\u014d. \n107. Ego autem qu\u014ddam di\u0113 quum pluvia m\u0101t\u016br\u0113 d\u0113stiterat, cymbam \ningredior r\u0113mig\u014dque n\u014dn sine tim\u014dre circum illud pr\u014dmontorium \nquod caeruleam terminat r\u016bpem. Pl\u016brim\u0101s palm\u0101s vide\u014d, qu\u0101s \ncr\u0113did\u012b ejus esse preti\u014dsissim\u012b generis, quod vulg\u014d Nux Cocus \nappell\u0101tur. Multae aliae arbor\u0113s frutic\u0113sque mihi ign\u014dt\u012b ill\u012bc \nst\u0101bant, sed ipse l\u012btoris acervus Portum meum refer\u0113bat. Tantum \nomnia h\u012bc ampli\u014dra atque \u016bberi\u014dra. D\u0113 alg\u0101 saepius memor\u0101v\u012b. \nAliud n\u014dmen n\u014dn succurrit; etenim nostr\u0101tibus vir\u012bs r\u0113s ipsa \nign\u014dta est. H\u012bc d\u0113not\u014d, alg\u0101s ill\u0101s, ut pl\u016brimum, n\u014dn mar\u012bn\u0101s \nfuisse, sed maritim\u0101s, ultr\u0101 summum aest\u016bs terminum. H\u012b \nr\u0113ptant\u0113s erant frutic\u0113s, d\u012bvers\u012b generis; hibisc\u014ds, acanth\u014ds, \nconject\u016br\u0101 d\u012bxerim. S\u0101n\u0113 erant pulcherrim\u012b, p\u016br\u012bs dist\u012bnct\u012b \nfoli\u014drum ac fl\u014drum col\u014dribus. 108. D\u0113ambul\u014d in l\u012btore, coc\u014ds \nadm\u012bror: multum c\u014dgit\u014d ac v\u0113scor sp\u0113. Subit\u014d memin\u012b r\u0113m\u014ds vel \noptim\u014ds \u0113 coc\u012b trunc\u014d fier\u012b, scaphamque meam r\u0113m\u012bs car\u0113re. \nSec\u016brim m\u0113cum habu\u012b. \u016anam \u0113 minim\u012bs coc\u012bs statim exscind\u014d atque \nobtrunc\u014d. Caput hujus in cymbam conger\u014d, ipsam d\u0113stin\u014d f\u016bne \ntrahendam. Sed quum vol\u014d red\u012bre, aest\u016bs recessus m\u0113 impedit: nam \ncirc\u0101 pr\u014dmontorium, ubi fuerat mare, nunc saxa longius \nexcurr\u0113bant, quae metu\u014d circum\u012bre, n\u0113 in pr\u014dfluentem aliquam \nmar\u012bnam implicer. Tandem super sax\u012bs ingredi\u0113ns, flexu\u014dsum \nreperi\u014d iter aquae, in qu\u014d cymba nat\u0101re possit. Hanc trah\u014d, \nsax\u012bs ipse \u012bnsili\u0113ns. Poste\u0101 truncum illum super humer\u012bs asport\u014d \nper eandem viam; mox, cymbam ingressus, m\u0113 atque mea omnia domum \nlaetus report\u014d. \nCAPUT (V.) QU\u012aNTUM. \n109. Pluvia quoti\u0113s caderet, intus m\u0113 abdid\u012b, et in excolend\u0101 \ndom\u014d satis habu\u012b operis. Arm\u0101ment\u0101rium meum praesertim cum \nexult\u0101ti\u014dne cordis aspici\u0113bam. Arma igni\u0101ria c\u016bncta, r\u012bte \n\u0113mund\u0101ta, perfric\u0101ta ole\u014d, h\u0101m\u012bs ad m\u016br\u014ds suspend\u012b. M\u0113nsam \nfabr\u012blem su\u014d in loc\u014d c\u014dnstitu\u012b; j\u016bxt\u0101 hanc, reposit\u014drium \nfabr\u012ble: in angul\u014d, ferr\u0101menta agrestia. Quot\u012bdi\u0113 suum quidque \nin locum sev\u0113rissim\u0113 rep\u014dn\u014d, experienti\u0101 doctus s\u012bc facillim\u0113 \nquidque inven\u012br\u012b, ubi fest\u012bn\u0101t\u014d opus est. 110. Porr\u014d in pen\u0101ri\u0101 \nac cul\u012bn\u0101 multa \u014drdin\u0101v\u012b. Sc\u0101l\u0101s qu\u0101s ad cubiculum intrandum \nadhib\u0113bam, comp\u0101g\u012b cuidam ligneae per h\u0101m\u014ds \u0101nul\u014dsque s\u012bc \nannexu\u012b, ut, super h\u012bs ast\u0101ns, carnem supr\u0101 \u2e24procul f\u0113libus \nsusp\u0113nsam\u2e25 possem attingere; possem quoque disjungere sc\u0101l\u0101s, \nquoti\u0113s vellem. Quand\u014d m\u0113met obj\u016brg\u014d propter nimiam carnis \ncup\u012bdinem, responde\u014d, m\u0113 ips\u012bs f\u0113libus c\u014dnsulere, n\u0113 suum ipsae \ncib\u0101tum d\u0113perdant. In pen\u0101riam cellam d\u014dlia item atque arc\u0101s \npl\u016br\u0113s colloc\u0101v\u012b: ali\u0101s quidem in fr\u016bctu\u0101ri\u014d me\u014d. C\u0113terum pr\u014d \ncul\u012bn\u0101 s\u016bmpseram ejusmod\u012b cavernam, cujus in angul\u014d erat quasi \nfocus n\u0101t\u016br\u0101lis. R\u012bmam quandam v\u012bd\u012b, per quam f\u016bmus ex\u012bre \npoterat: hanc ferre\u014d vecte ampli\u014d. Porr\u014d for\u0101men majus effodi\u014d \nsupr\u0101, n\u0113 f\u016bmus per cul\u012bnam vag\u0101r\u0113tur. Ex\u012bbat autem in alteram \nmin\u014drem cavernam, quam pr\u014d f\u016bm\u0101ri\u014d d\u0113stin\u0101bam. H\u012bc carnem \nsuspend\u014d, s\u012bquam ind\u016br\u0101tam velim. Tum f\u016bmus, h\u014dc mod\u014d diff\u016bsus, \nminus erat m\u0113 pr\u014ddit\u016brus: nam velut nebula in r\u016bpe poterat \nvid\u0113r\u012b. In lign\u0101ri\u014d autem me\u014d, quidquid lign\u012b ex n\u0101ve \nd\u0113port\u0101veram, et quidquid m\u0101teriem ignis hab\u0113bat, illud omne \nrep\u014dn\u0113bam. V\u0113la quoque h\u016bc d\u0113posu\u012b, sed parum contentus loc\u014d. \n111. D\u0113 corpore c\u016brand\u014d quaedam s\u012b n\u0101rrem, ign\u014dscet l\u0113ctor. Quae \nsequuntur, pl\u016br\u0113s ad m\u0113ns\u0113s, imm\u014d ann\u014ds, pertinent. D\u012bx\u012b m\u0113 sub \naqu\u0101 mar\u012bn\u0101, post tertium in \u012bnsul\u0101 diem, vest\u0113s immund\u0101s \nlapill\u012bs oppressisse. Poste\u0101 reput\u0101bam,\u2014s\u012b vel s\u0101p\u014dnem hab\u0113rem, \noperae n\u014dn fore pretium h\u0101s nostr\u014d m\u014dre in splend\u014drem recolere. \nSpurcitiem vest\u012bment\u014drum n\u014dn \u0113 col\u014dre c\u014dnsistere, \u0101tra essent an \ncandida, sed \u0113 cutis excr\u0113ment\u014d, quod quidem sals\u0101 maris aqu\u0101 \noptim\u0113 \u0101mov\u0113r\u0113tur: manibus autem ac s\u0101p\u014dne fric\u0101t\u0101s, d\u0113ter\u012b \nvest\u0113s. Qu\u0101propter h\u0101s ips\u0101s, s\u014dle sicc\u0101t\u0101s, iterum poste\u0101 \nindu\u0113bar. Deinde etiam simplici\u014drem exc\u014dgit\u0101v\u012b viam.\u2014Postquam \nexpertus sum, vespert\u012bna nat\u0101ti\u014d quantum reficeret corpus, \nd\u0113cern\u014d, sub s\u014dlis occ\u0101sum \u016bn\u014dqu\u014dque vespere, ips\u0101 in tunic\u0101, \ncum f\u0113min\u0101libus linte\u012bs ac t\u012bbi\u0101libus[H] (id est, tegument\u012bs \ncr\u016brum gossyp\u012bn\u012bs) d\u0113nat\u0101re in port\u016b me\u014d. \u0112gressus aqu\u0101, exuor \nvest\u012bmenta, contorque\u014d manibus, suspend\u014d, alia induor. Illa \naltera m\u0101ne sicca inveni\u014d. Itaque recente semper vest\u012bt\u016b \npernoctor. S\u0101n\u0113 per summ\u0101s pluvi\u0101s aegerrim\u0113 sicc\u0101bantur r\u0113s: \nt\u0101l\u012b in tempest\u0101te madid\u0101s vest\u0113s in cul\u012bn\u0101 suspend\u0113bam. \n112. Praetere\u0101, cut\u012b fricandae d\u014d operam, neque caesariem \npr\u014drsus neglig\u014d. Sci\u0113bam enim, inter barbar\u014ds, s\u012b qua sit g\u0113ns \ns\u0101nit\u0101te, pr\u014dc\u0113rit\u0101te, dec\u014dre corporis \u012bnsignis, hanc praesertim \ncut\u012b c\u016brandae semper ded\u012b; s\u012bn autem m\u0113 illuvi\u0113\u012b perm\u012bser\u014d, in \nn\u016bllam n\u014dn spurcitiem posse d\u0113l\u0101b\u012b. Equidem \u0113 n\u0101ve me\u0101s hab\u0113bam \nmapp\u0101s atque mant\u0113lia cum s\u016bd\u0101ri\u012bs. Mappae d\u0113tergendae corpor\u012b \nnimium l\u0113v\u0113s erant; mox in cal\u014dribus h\u0101s adhibu\u012b ad gen\u0101s \npr\u014dtegend\u0101s, Arabum Sc\u0113n\u012bt\u0101rum m\u014dre. Mant\u0113lia, ut quae vill\u014dsa \nmaxim\u0113, dum d\u016br\u0101bant, prae c\u0113ter\u012bs approb\u0101bam.\u2014In capill\u014drum \nsupellectile nihil egomet habueram, praeter \u016bnum pectinem atque \n\u016bnam sc\u014dpulam s\u0113t\u014dsam: sed totidem, quae magistr\u012b n\u0101vis erant, \n\u0101v\u0113x\u012b, pl\u016br\u0113sque naut\u0101rum pectin\u0113s. Naut\u012bs sc\u014dpulae n\u016bllae \nerant. Sc\u014dpul\u0101s equidem magn\u012b aestim\u0101bam; nam diff\u012bsus sum posse \nrepar\u0101r\u012b. Barbae, ips\u0101 in n\u0101ve, semper pr\u014dmitt\u0113bantur; nec in \nme\u0101 \u012bnsul\u0101 m\u0113 r\u0101d\u0113bam, quamquam hab\u0113rem nov\u0101cul\u0101s; sed forfice \nidentidem tond\u0113bam leviter aut capill\u014ds aut barbam. \n113. In tempest\u0101te procell\u014ds\u0101, praesertim post fulgura, propter \nfr\u012bgus Caur\u012b, quoti\u0113s d\u0113sisterem ab opere, lacernam indu\u0113bar, \nnec spern\u0113bam ignis s\u014dl\u0101tium. Sed tum maxim\u0113 poteram lab\u014dr\u0101re. \nNova gr\u0101mina aut r\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s aut viridem z\u0113am, optim\u0101 caule \nmeli\u014drem, aut ligna report\u0101bam; porr\u014d utrumque tr\u0101mitem qu\u014d in \nsummam r\u016bpem \u0113v\u0101d\u0113bam, compar\u0101bam in melius. Quippe rubram super \nr\u016bpem sp\u0113r\u0101bam fore ut trahula tandem sub\u012bret. Qu\u014ddam di\u0113 imber \nsuperveni\u0113ns \u012bnfulam capitis meam h\u016bm\u014dre satur\u0101vit, et, terg\u014d \nprof\u016bs\u0113 madid\u014d, caurus ventus \u0101cerrimum mihi fr\u012bgoris s\u0113nsum \nincussit. Domum cucurr\u012b magis quam incess\u012b, m\u016bt\u0101t\u012bsque \nvest\u012bment\u012bs d\u0113l\u012bber\u0101bam. S\u0113rica mea umbella \u0113 n\u0101ve in pr\u014dmpt\u016b \nerat; sed ubi man\u016bs esse d\u0113b\u0113rent l\u012bberae, h\u0101c \u016bt\u012b n\u014dn possem. \nInter pluvi\u0101s nimium s\u0113ns\u012b s\u014dlis ferv\u014drem, nec \u012bnful\u0101 potu\u012b \ncar\u0113re. H\u012bc omnia n\u0101rr\u0101b\u014d quae exc\u014dgit\u0101v\u012b, quamquam pl\u016br\u0113s per \nm\u0113ns\u0113s. \n114. Capr\u0101rum pell\u0113s serv\u0101veram. S\u0101n\u0113 moll\u0113s erant et d\u0113lic\u0101tae. \nH\u0101rum lacini\u0101s du\u0101s commod\u0101 magnit\u016bdine absc\u012bd\u012b, quae pr\u014d \ncucull\u014d forent. J\u016bnx\u012b supr\u0101, \u0101 fronte usque ad occiput; inde per \ncerv\u012bc\u0113s d\u0113fluere perm\u012bs\u012b. Ips\u0101 in dors\u012b sp\u012bn\u0101 duplic\u0113s \ncad\u0113bant, contr\u0101 pluvi\u0101s s\u014dlemve umbr\u0101culum. Caput atque ade\u014d \n\u012bnfulam comprehend\u0113bant art\u0113. Quoniam f\u0113mineae qu\u0101s hab\u0113bam ac\u016bs \ntenu\u0113s nimis erant fragil\u0113sque, idcirc\u014d sarcin\u0101ri\u0101s adhib\u0113bam \nac\u016bs cum tenuissim\u012bs f\u016bnicul\u012bs: h\u012bs satis bene c\u014dnsu\u0113bam. Sed \ndepsere vol\u014d internam cutem, quod quidem artificium parum \ncogn\u014dveram. Ego autem cinch\u014dnam aqu\u0101 d\u0113cox\u012b lent\u014d igne, ut aquae \nreman\u0113ret quam minimum, quam maxima autem foret ejus potentia. \nMox \u012bnf\u016bd\u012b in ferreum artill\u0101t\u014dris ferculum; superp\u014dn\u014d pellem, \nut interior pars imbibat cinch\u014dnam. Post b\u012bduum, longul\u014d ac l\u0113v\u012b \nlapide, quem pr\u014d magide[I] aestim\u0101bam, oleum pice imb\u016btum \nimprim\u014d atque \u012bnfric\u014d in pellem: jamque pr\u014d depst\u0101 accipi\u0113bam. \n115. Etiam summ\u012bs in cal\u014dribus vix suffici\u0113bat tunica,[J] nam \ncontr\u0101 \u012bnsect\u0101s t\u012bbi\u0101libus[K] erat opus. Sed dors\u012b quoque \ntegument\u014d car\u0113re n\u0113qu\u0101quam conveni\u0113bat; id quod prob\u0113 sciunt \nL\u016bsit\u0101n\u012b. Atque erat mihi sagulum L\u016bsit\u0101num vel optimum, nisi \nquod propter nigrum cal\u014drem radi\u014ds s\u014dlis imbiberet: qu\u0101r\u0113 aut \nalb\u012bs test\u012bs mar\u012bn\u012bs aut sp\u012bn\u012bs fortasse hystrice\u012bs vellem s\u0101n\u0113 \ndorsum obtexere. Jam, quoti\u0113s humer\u012bs quidpiam portandum erat \nsaltem asperum ac grave, suffarcin\u0101mentum d\u0113s\u012bder\u0101bam, n\u0113 \nexcori\u0101rentur ossa. Intell\u0113x\u012b spiss\u0101 tegete esse opus, quae \nhumer\u014ds, s\u012b onus port\u0101rem, d\u0113fenderet; porr\u014d s\u014dlem pluviamve \nrepelleret, nec imbiberet cal\u014drem. 116. T\u0101le tegumentum d\u0113mum \ncontexu\u012b, postquam junc\u014ds cann\u0101sque \u012bnsulae paul\u014d melius \ncognit\u014ds hab\u0113rem; neque \u016bll\u014d vest\u012bment\u014d superb\u012bv\u012b magis. Contr\u0101 \ncal\u014dr\u0113s superficiem tegetis madefaci\u0113bam; inde fr\u012bgus \ngr\u0101tissimum m\u0113 recre\u0101bat. Item mapp\u0101s ac lintea \u2e24quantum possem\u2e25 \nreserv\u0101ns, r\u014dscid\u012bs foli\u012bs callid\u0113 obvol\u016bt\u012bs amicior caput, \n\u016bn\u0101que d\u0113lig\u014d fasci\u0101 s\u012bve taeni\u0101. Quoti\u0113s ex lab\u014dribus ac cal\u014dre \nrequi\u0113scerem in umbr\u0101, poteram, d\u0113tract\u0101 \u012bnful\u0101, cr\u012bn\u0113s \nmadefacere: tum v\u0113r\u014d ass\u016bm\u0113bam cingulum, n\u0113 in v\u012bscera \nadmitterem fr\u012bgus. S\u012bc caput fr\u012bgidulum erat, corpus tepidum. \n117. Scapham autem, m\u0113nse Decembr\u012b n\u014dndum f\u012bn\u012bt\u014d, gesti\u014d \n\u012bnstruere. Coc\u012b truncum, quem d\u0113port\u0101veram, cortice ex\u016bt\u0101, \ndifficulter s\u0101n\u0113 secundum longit\u016bdinem dissec\u0101veram serr\u0101, et in \nr\u0113m\u014drum f\u014drmam magis magisque caed\u0113bam. Etenim cymbae r\u0113m\u012b \ntamquam pr\u014d exempl\u0101re pr\u014dst\u0101bant. Ad r\u0113migandam quidem scapham \nsex homin\u0113s cum sex r\u0113m\u012bs adhib\u0113b\u0101mus, quattuor ad minimum. Ego, \n\u016bnus hom\u014d, duo ingent\u0113s r\u0113m\u014ds m\u014dli\u0113ns, nihil possem contr\u0101 \nfl\u016bct\u016bs vel contr\u0101 pr\u014dfluentem maris facere: attamen rest\u0101gnante \nmar\u012b ac vent\u014d, \u016bnus prope d\u0113bilis r\u0113mex aliquantum \u016bsu\u012b foret. \n118. Circ\u0101 Kalend\u0101s J\u0101nu\u0101ri\u0101s ser\u0113nissim\u0101 in tempest\u0101te m\u0101l\u014d \nv\u0113l\u014dque scapham \u012bnstr\u016bx\u012b. Ancoram ejus cum ancor\u0101l\u012b atque ill\u0101 \narc\u0101, item toll\u0113n\u014dnis ferr\u0101menta, jamd\u016bdum ex ar\u0113n\u012bs \nrecuper\u0101veram. In port\u016b saepius exerc\u0113bam tum v\u0113la, tum r\u0113m\u014ds; \nh\u014dsque in melius fig\u016br\u0101bam. Qu\u014drsum haec, nesci\u0113bam equidem: \nenimv\u0113r\u014d nisi perquam l\u0113n\u012b aur\u0101 n\u014dn aud\u0113rem exitum; sed in \nscaph\u0101 vid\u0113bar quasi novam quandam ten\u0113re vim, necn\u014dn ipsam \nn\u0101vigand\u012b artem in\u0101n\u012b am\u014dre fov\u0113bam. Mox operae, quam prius in \nscaph\u0101 n\u0101v\u0101veram, diff\u012bsus, iterum car\u012bnam sarc\u012bv\u012b. Ubicumque \nr\u012bm\u0101s metu\u014d, argillam pice oblitum firmissim\u0113 \u012bnferci\u014d, d\u014dnec \nomnia vid\u0113rentur t\u016btissima. \n119. At mar\u012bn\u0101s pr\u014dfluent\u0113s, s\u012b quae essent requi\u0113scente vent\u014d, \nvol\u0113bam propter scaphae sal\u016btem cogn\u014dscere. H\u0101s ut expl\u014dr\u0101rem, \ncl\u0113mentissim\u014d sub vent\u014d, ulterius \u2e24mer\u012bdiem versus\u2e25 in cymb\u0101 \npr\u014dcess\u012b. Ecce autem, quand\u014d duo amplius m\u012bllia eram \u0101 terr\u0101, \njugum montis long\u0113 altius quam excelsus ille collis \u0101 qu\u014d ter, \nquater pr\u014dspexeram. Ab h\u014dc monte terram op\u012bn\u0101bar s\u0113nsim d\u0113sid\u0113re \nusque ad hort\u014ds me\u014ds. Jam vide\u014d, s\u012b \u012bnsulam ac maria r\u0113ct\u0113 \npr\u014dspect\u0101re vellem, montem illum esse c\u014dnscendendum; idque \nmeditor. Poste\u0101 recordor, m\u0113 ips\u014d \u0101 colle eundem v\u012bdisse montem, \nsed tantam esse ejus altit\u016bdinem tunc n\u014dn suspic\u0101tum. 120. \nQuamquam neque m\u012bt\u0113s vellem fer\u0101s tim\u014dre me\u012b impl\u0113re, neque \npr\u014ddigere nitr\u0101tum pulverem, d\u0113cern\u014d tamen exercendam esse \njaculand\u012b artem, n\u0113 obl\u012bv\u012bscar, n\u0113ve ipsa arma r\u014db\u012bgine \ncorrumpantur. Versicol\u014dr\u0113s quidem av\u0113s, qu\u0101l\u0113s fer\u0113 inveni\u0113bam, \nvix m\u0113 fugi\u0113bant; sed aqu\u0101ticae quaedam volucr\u0113s, nostr\u012bs n\u014dn \nvald\u0113 dissimil\u0113s, omn\u012b \u0101st\u016bti\u0101 ac met\u016b \u0113v\u0101d\u0113bant m\u0113. H\u0101s cr\u0113did\u012b \nadven\u0101s esse, assu\u0113t\u0101sque hominibus: praecipuam e\u0101rum s\u0113dem \nposte\u0101 c\u014dnspic\u0101tus sum. Ego autem h\u0101s pr\u014d cib\u014d et propter t\u0113l\u012b \nexercit\u0101ti\u014dnem occ\u012bd\u014d. Anat\u0113s erant, \u0101nser\u0113s, ol\u014dr\u0113s, pl\u016bm\u012bs \nf\u014drm\u012bsque n\u014dn omn\u012bn\u014d nostr\u0101rum ad \u012bnstar, porr\u014d pl\u016brium inter s\u0113 \ngenerum. H\u0101s, ut pl\u016brimum, plumbul\u012bs in \u014dr\u0101 tantum maritim\u0101 \npet\u0113bam, n\u0113 t\u0113l\u012b fragor c\u0113ter\u0101s terr\u0113ret fer\u0101s: canis autem, \ns\u012bve in terram s\u012bve in aquam d\u0113ciderent, \u0101cerrim\u0113 e\u0101s \nreport\u0101bat. S\u012b pr\u014dtinus comedere n\u014dn plac\u0113ret, nec eg\u0113rem qu\u014d \ncanem p\u0101scerem, in f\u016bm\u0101ri\u014d suspend\u0113bam. Quippe f\u016bmus et \nm\u0101t\u016br\u0101bat carnem et putr\u0113dinem \u0101vert\u0113bat. Assae potius quam aqu\u0101 \ncoctae mihi plac\u0113bant; sed carb\u014dnem, Angl\u014drum m\u014dre, alt\u0113 \nexstruere nequ\u012bv\u012b. Supr\u0101 ignem ass\u0101re necesse erat: qu\u0101r\u0113 \n\u0101litem, membr\u0101tim conc\u012bsum, f\u012bl\u012bs ferre\u012bs, tamquam verubus, \ntr\u0101jectum, v\u012bv\u0101s supr\u0101 pr\u016bn\u0101s amb\u016br\u0113bam. \n121. E\u014ddem fer\u0113 tempore columb\u0101s qu\u0101sdam facillim\u0113 nanc\u012bscor. \nDum colle regredior obambul\u0101ns, \u0101l\u0101rum str\u012bd\u014drem audi\u014d: mox \nconversus vol\u0101tum quasi columb\u0101rum agn\u014dsc\u014d. Hae av\u0113s in cavum \nsax\u012b locum s\u0113 rec\u0113p\u0113re, quem ocul\u012bs facile not\u0101v\u012b, cr\u0113did\u012bque m\u0113 \nposse ill\u016bc ascendere. Postquam c\u016bncta conjectand\u014d \u0113m\u0113nsus sum, \nvirgam arboris \u2e24abscissam pr\u014d sign\u014d\u2e25 terrae \u012bnf\u012bg\u014d: tum domum \nrede\u014d medit\u0101ns. Quantum possum celerrim\u0113 columb\u0101riam cellam, \nperlevem illam quidem, compang\u014d: hanc humer\u014d port\u0101ns eundem \nlocum repet\u014d, post b\u012bduum. Virga illa \u0113min\u0113ns fit index; saxum \nascend\u014d, pl\u016br\u0113sque in cav\u012bs inveni\u014d n\u012bd\u014ds, quibus \u014dva n\u014dndum \ninerant. \u016anum n\u012bdum in columb\u0101riam meam cellam tr\u0101nsfer\u014d; mox \nadvol\u0101vit columba, intr\u0101vitque cellam n\u012bdum repet\u0113ns. Id gaude\u014d, \net relinqu\u014d cellam. Post pl\u016br\u0113s di\u0113s reversus avem n\u012bd\u014d \n\u012bnsidentem inveni\u014d: quam ips\u0101 cum cell\u0101 m\u014dt\u016b cl\u0113mentissim\u014d \nreport\u014d domum; atque illa intrepida man\u0113bat. Conjunx poste\u0101 \nsubsec\u016btus est: amb\u014dbus, ut poteram, quot\u012bdi\u0113 dabam cib\u0101tum. \nPoste\u0101 turriculam c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b columb\u0101riam, columnae inn\u012bxam, \ns\u0113c\u016brit\u0101tis erg\u014d: nec pull\u014ds vol\u0113bam mact\u0101re, sed in spem \nampli\u014dris pr\u014dlis reserv\u0101bam. \n122. Cib\u012b quidem satis superque mihi erant, s\u012b modo convehere \npossem. Sed qu\u014d magis r\u016bminor, lab\u014drem d\u0113portand\u014drum fr\u016bctuum \nhorre\u014d magis. Haed\u014ds in praesaepe red\u016bxeram, n\u0113 gr\u0101minibus \nquoque congerend\u012bs d\u0113fat\u012bg\u0101rer; tamen \u2e24ill\u0101 in convalle \nd\u0113press\u0101\u2e25 oneribus grav\u0101bar, neque trahulam poteram adhib\u0113re, \npropter nov\u0101rum herb\u0101rum luxuriem. D\u0113 tract\u014dri\u012bs j\u016bment\u012bs paene \nd\u0113sp\u0113r\u0101v\u012b, vid\u0113barque in servit\u016btem lab\u014dri\u014dsissimam d\u0113v\u014dtus; s\u012bn \nrequiem capt\u014d, pr\u014dtinus m\u0113ns f\u012b\u0113bat miserior. \n123. Acc\u0113d\u0113bat quod calce\u0101ment\u012bs d\u0113fici\u0113bar. Nautae super n\u0101ve \naut n\u016bd\u012bs pedibus aut tenuissim\u012bs sole\u012bs ag\u0113bant. Calig\u0101s ego et \nmagister n\u0101vis hab\u0113b\u0101mus, sed ego magnit\u016bdine pedum super\u0101bam. \nPorr\u014d saepius ex necessit\u0101te mare ingredient\u012b, corium calig\u0101rum \ns\u0113 contr\u0101xerat. Ego autem post tr\u0113s lab\u014dri\u014ds\u014ds di\u0113s, pedibus \naeger, n\u014dl\u0113bam ex\u012bre. Omnium r\u0113rum m\u0113 taed\u0113bat. Nova l\u016bna jam \nintr\u0101verat. Axem ego quadr\u0101tam coep\u012b inc\u012bdere, \u012bnscr\u012bpti\u014dnem \nquasi sepulcr\u012b d\u0113sign\u0101ns. T\u0101lis erat: \nRebilius Cr\u016bs\u014d, \nAngl\u014drum c\u012bvis,\nMaur\u014drum capt\u012bvus,\nBrazili\u0113nsis col\u014dnus,\nH\u012bc naufragus s\u014dlit\u0101rius,\nHominum miserrimus,\nQu\u012bntum jam m\u0113nsem \u0113necor. \nIllud iter\u0101v\u012b ter quaterque, hominum miserrimus. At subit\u014d v\u014dcem \nquandam s\u0113ns\u012b, n\u014dn auribus, sed corde: \u201cT\u016bne omnium miserrimus? \nT\u016b, qu\u012b summ\u0101 p\u0101ce frueris, in pulcherrim\u0101 \u016bberrim\u0101que \u012bnsul\u0101, \ns\u0101n\u014d valid\u014dque corpore! At n\u0113 t\u0113 Deus Maur\u012bs iterum praedam \npr\u014djiciat vel morb\u014d feriat!\u201d 124. Cohorru\u012b. Tum reput\u0101bam: \u201cAnne \nhoc illud est, quod v\u0101t\u0113s sacr\u012b summ\u0101 in s\u014dlit\u016bdine affl\u0101tum De\u012b \nquaer\u0113bant? Numne igitur m\u0113 quoque intrat ille affl\u0101tus?\u201d M\u012br\u0113 \nprofect\u014d agit\u0101bar. Dein m\u0113met increpu\u012b: \u201c\u014c fatue Rebil\u012b, s\u0101nae \nn\u014dn es mentis. Im\u0101gin\u0101ri\u0101 sapienti\u0101 v\u0113r\u0101que d\u0113l\u012br\u0101ti\u014dne \ncapi\u0113ris, s\u012b d\u012bv\u012bnam cr\u0113d\u0113s t\u0113 aud\u012bre v\u014dcem.\u201d Pr\u014dtenus velut \nd\u0113mortuus hominibus, v\u012bvus necess\u0101ri\u0113 c\u014dram Cre\u0101t\u014dre me\u014d, m\u012br\u0101 \nqu\u0101dam ac nov\u0101 audenti\u0101 illum compell\u0101bam, et quasi v\u014dtum \nconcipi\u014d. \u201c\u014c Supr\u0113me! quisquis es (inquam), nimius t\u016b es mihi: \npav\u0113sc\u014d f\u0101n\u0101ticam d\u0113mentiam. Sed dulcem redde hominum aspectum; \ntum pr\u016bdentius t\u0113 cogn\u014dver\u014d, pl\u0113nius vener\u0101bor.\u201d Post haec \ntranquillior f\u012b\u0113bam: sed per\u012bcul\u014dsa esse s\u0113ns\u012b interv\u0101lla \nindustriae, nisi oblect\u0101ti\u014dne aliqu\u0101 s\u014dl\u0101rer. Qu\u0101r\u0113 pictam avem \npsittacum, s\u012b possim, capere ac m\u0101nsu\u0113facere d\u0113cern\u014d, s\u012b forte \nm\u0113cum colloqu\u0101tur. D\u0113 macac\u014d[L] c\u014dgit\u0101veram; sed timu\u012b h\u0101s \nb\u0113sti\u0101s, n\u0113 malign\u014d forent ingeni\u014d: s\u0101n\u0113 ali\u014drum generum ali\u012b \nsunt m\u014dr\u0113s: itaque hoc c\u014dnsilium d\u0113posu\u012b. \n125. Mox lepor\u0113s quoque vol\u014d capere. Quippe saepius capt\u0101veram, \nneque ars mea pr\u014dcesserat. Lepor\u0113s ill\u012b (seu r\u0113ctius cun\u012bcul\u012b: \nita cr\u0113d\u014d: sed quia car\u014d leporem potius refer\u0113bat, idcirc\u014d ex \npr\u012bm\u0101 ill\u0101 nocte lepor\u0113s semper appell\u0101veram;) attamen \ngall\u012bn\u0101rum domestic\u0101rum m\u014dre s\u0113 ger\u0113bant. Quam proxim\u0113 sin\u0113bant \nm\u0113 ad\u012bre, tangere n\u014dn sin\u0113bant; sed in cava terrae pr\u014drumpent\u0113s, \ninde m\u0113 intu\u0113bantur. Laque\u014ds \u012bnstr\u016bxeram pl\u016br\u0113s, sed fr\u016bstr\u0101: \njam piscand\u014d experiendum esse arbitror. Super n\u0101ve flagra \naliquot r\u014dbusta erant, quae (nam fatendum est) ad flagelland\u014ds \nnigr\u012bt\u0101s comport\u0101b\u0101mus, s\u012b rati\u014d tulisset. H\u014drum tria \noffenderam, \u0101v\u0113x\u012bque propter l\u014dr\u014drum \u016bs\u016bs. Nunc \u016bn\u012bus in f\u012bne \nh\u0101mum pisc\u0101t\u014drium grandi\u014drem aff\u012bg\u014d. 126. Virgam quoque praepar\u014d \ntamquam pisc\u0101t\u014driam, sed brevi\u014drem, resticul\u0101 \u012bnstr\u016bctam: huic \nfasciculum tener\u0101rum herb\u0101rum adnect\u014d. Tr\u0113s saccul\u014ds super \nhumer\u014d port\u0101ns cum virg\u0101 flagr\u014dque, leporum ade\u014d loc\u014ds. Sinistr\u0101 \nfasciculum jact\u0101ns, ad l\u016bdum allici\u014d. Post paul\u014d lepus incipit, \nut f\u0113lium catul\u012b, persequ\u012b fascicul\u012b cursum ac gr\u0101mina ejus \nsubinde r\u014ddere. Flagrum ego dextr\u0101 ten\u0113ns, opport\u016bnit\u0101tem re\u012b \ngerendae opperior, subit\u014dque pr\u014dject\u014d h\u0101m\u014d, super caud\u0101 leporem \nopprim\u014d. C\u014dnfestim arreptum attine\u014d, saccul\u014dque immersum. Tant\u014ds \nille ciet strepit\u016bs, ut c\u0113ter\u012b accurrant m\u012br\u0101bund\u012b; dumque \nobstup\u0113scunt, alterum verbere h\u0101m\u012b assequor. Animadvert\u014d marem \nesse ac f\u0113minam; qu\u0101r\u0113 satis habe\u014d, laetusque d\u0113veh\u014d praedam. \nSub r\u016bpe ubi cava loca abund\u0101bant, cr\u0113d\u014d n\u014dn male habit\u0101t\u016br\u014ds; \nposte\u0101 ad m\u0101nsu\u0113faciend\u014ds operam adhibu\u012b. \n126* D\u0113 calce\u0101ment\u012bs pauca sunt explicanda. Quoniam lab\u0101sc\u0113bant \nomnium calig\u0101rum coria, s\u0113ns\u012b validi\u014dre esse opus tegument\u014d \npedum: idque junc\u012bs ac lent\u0101 qu\u0101dam cortice plic\u0101t\u012bs concinn\u0101v\u012b. \n\u0112 junc\u012bs, qu\u014ds \u2e24d\u012bvers\u012b generis pl\u016brim\u014ds\u2e25 in s\u014dle sicc\u0101veram, \ne\u014ds d\u0113lig\u014d qu\u012b lent\u012b simul et rel\u016bcent\u0113s vid\u0113rentur: nam \nquidquid rel\u016bc\u0113ret, id caun\u0101rum m\u014dre pluvi\u0101s optim\u0113 reject\u016brum \ncr\u0113did\u012b. Ex h\u012bs plic\u0101v\u012b mars\u016bpium, cujus f\u014drma erat pedis \u012bnstar \n\u0101 convex\u014d ad calcem praec\u012bs\u012b. Dein \u0113 corticibus, qu\u0101s \nm\u0101cer\u0101veram, l\u014dra plic\u0101v\u012b, l\u0101ta minus duo digit\u014ds. Veterum \ncalig\u0101rum fundum vel soleam sub mars\u016bpi\u014d ill\u014d positum, dum p\u0113s \nmeus inerat, l\u014dr\u012bs ill\u012bs circumlig\u0101v\u012b, n\u014dd\u0101v\u012bque super t\u0101l\u014d. \nRudis s\u0101n\u0113 hic calceus erat, attamen aliqu\u0101tenus cert\u0113 pedem \npr\u014dt\u0113xit vulneribus. N\u014dn absurdum erit h\u012bc d\u012bcere, m\u0113 ips\u0101 in \nBraz\u012bli\u0101 contr\u0101 \u012bnsect\u0101s saepe Persic\u014ds gest\u0101sse soccul\u014ds, \u0113 \ntap\u0113te fact\u014ds. Per h\u014ds n\u014dn possunt culic\u0113s mord\u0113re, sed sp\u012bnae \nsent\u0113sque facile penetrant. \nCAPUT (VI.) SEXTUM. \n127. Circ\u0101 \u012ad\u016bs J\u0101nu\u0101ri\u0101s ad montem expl\u014drandum accingor. \nLacernam capi\u014d cibumque, s\u012b forte pernoct\u0101r\u012b opus sit. \nMollissim\u014ds induor calce\u014ds: pr\u014dspeculum adnect\u014d balte\u014d. Ads\u016bm\u014d \ncanem. Sed ante exortum s\u014dlem \u0113d\u016bc\u014d haed\u014ds, et (quod m\u014dris me\u012b \nerat) commod\u014d in loc\u014d paxill\u012bs d\u0113stin\u014d. Tum ex convalle \ndextr\u014drsum surg\u0113ns juxt\u0101 aquam d\u0113silientem perg\u014d, saltum versus \nmeum. Sed ascend\u014d jugum, qu\u014d l\u0101tius pr\u014dspectem, saltumque subtus \nin laev\u0101 faci\u014d. Modica erat accl\u012bvit\u0101s, sed continua. Sub sole\u0101 \nmihi breve erat gr\u0101men,\u2014molle, fr\u012bgidulum, n\u014dn impedi\u0113ns. Qu\u014d \nmagis \u012bnsurg\u0113bam, largior erat aura ac pl\u0113na vig\u014dris. Facile \nl\u012bber\u0113que inc\u0113d\u0113bam. Dextr\u0101, capr\u014drum vide\u014d scopul\u014ds ac p\u0101scua; \nsed ad sinistram magn\u014d flex\u016b rede\u014d, dein convallem fl\u016bminis \nn\u014dtam attine\u014d supr\u0101, moxque hort\u014ds me\u014ds. H\u014ds simul ac \npraeter\u012bveram, sinistr\u014drsum l\u0113n\u012b d\u0113flex\u016b contend\u0113bam, inc\u0113p\u012bque \nipsum montem obl\u012bqu\u0113 ascendere. Jamque intell\u0113x\u012b, long\u0113 facilius \nh\u014dc curs\u016b \u2e24quamv\u012bs long\u014d\u2e25 hort\u014ds ad\u012br\u012b; nam propter aur\u0101s \nmont\u0101n\u0101s, siccius solum, brevi\u014dr\u0113s herb\u0101s, n\u014dn modo n\u014dn \nd\u0113fessus, imm\u014d recre\u0101tus sum itinere. Ubi aquula quaedam \u0101 monte \nd\u0113silit, canis incipit lambere. S\u012bc monitus, cib\u012bs comm\u016bnic\u0101t\u012bs, \nv\u0113scor bib\u014dque. 128. Ut pr\u012bmum monte d\u0113 summ\u014d pr\u014dspex\u012b, \npraegesti\u0113ns c\u016bncta adm\u012bror. Vald\u0113 praeceps erat m\u014dns occidentem \nac Septentri\u014dn\u0113s versus, id est, ad mare. Ipsa aetheris cl\u0101rit\u0101s \nextentusque \u014cceanus pulcherrima erant. At ego propius \ncircumspect\u014d alterum in latus, unde cl\u0113mentissim\u0113 surg\u0113bat tanta \naltit\u016bd\u014d, illam vallem l\u016bstr\u0101t\u016brus in qu\u0101 superne hort\u012b erant \nme\u012b. Penitus d\u0113spicere nequ\u012bv\u012b, sed per opposit\u014ds cl\u012bv\u014ds cursum \nejus usque ad mare ind\u0101g\u014d. Aestus tunc quam maxim\u0113 recesserat; \nlaetus tamen animadvert\u014d r\u012bvum s\u0113 in mare effundentem, du\u014dsque \n\u2e24quasi hujus trib\u016bt\u0101ri\u014ds\u2e25 d\u0113 d\u012bvers\u012bs r\u012bp\u012bs r\u012bvul\u014ds, qu\u014drum \nuterv\u012bs scapham meam possit excipere. Per pr\u014dspeculum \ndispici\u0113ns, facile v\u012bd\u012b palm\u0101s ast\u0101re praegrand\u0113s \u2e24\u014dstium r\u012bv\u012b \nversus\u2e25 et paene ad \u014dram maris. Postquam ill\u0101c sati\u0101v\u012b ocul\u014ds, \nconversus in aliam terrae regi\u014dnem aspect\u014d. Vasta h\u012bc subjecta \nest silva usque ad ultimum \u012bnsulae l\u012btus. D\u0113cl\u012bvit\u0101s modica \nerat, nec continua: qu\u012bndecim m\u012bllia silvae ad minimum haec \naestim\u0101bam. N\u0113 pr\u014dspecul\u012b quidem ope ultim\u0101rum poteram arborum \nn\u0101t\u016bram cogn\u014dscere, c\u0113terum proximae ultimaeque vald\u0113 erant \ndissimil\u0113s. Ad Aquil\u014dn\u0113s Juga Capr\u012bna (s\u012bc enim n\u014dmin\u0101bam) \nscaenam concl\u016bd\u0113bant, sed mare super\u0113min\u0113bat. 129. Haec dum \ncommeditor, pr\u014dspect\u014dque circumcirc\u0101, repente terram \u0113 longinqu\u014d \nvideor vid\u0113re mer\u012bdiem versus. Dispici\u014d, anne sit nebula. Etiam \natque etiam contemplor: d\u0113mum agn\u014dsc\u014d l\u0101tissim\u0113 porr\u0113ctam \nterram, vald\u0113 humilem, sed terram tamen. Pr\u012bm\u014d m\u0113 sp\u0113 illud ac \ngaudi\u014d aff\u0113cit. Continentem Americae mer\u012bdi\u0101nam esse pr\u014dn\u016bnti\u014d: \nmox fateor, nihil id ad m\u0113. Etenim t\u0101lis regi\u014d s\u014dlit\u016bd\u014d est \nvastior, foedior, imm\u0101nior long\u0113 quam haec est \u012bnsula. Fac \nabesse barbar\u014ds homin\u0113s panth\u0113r\u0101sque; at ill\u012bc s\u012b forem, aut in \nl\u0101tissim\u0101 atque inh\u016bm\u0101n\u0101 ar\u0113n\u0101 pr\u014djicerer, aut (quod cr\u0113d\u014d \npotius) in aggeribus silv\u014ds\u012bs maxim\u012b alicujus fluvi\u012b, inter \npal\u016bd\u0113s imm\u0113ns\u0101s atque \u012bnsal\u016bberrim\u014ds vap\u014dr\u0113s. S\u0101n\u0113 haec \u012bnsula \nprae continente ill\u0101 tamquam Parad\u012bsus est. 130. Retorque\u014d \nocul\u014ds meum versus r\u0113gnum, contentus, laetiorque; tum d\u012br\u0113ct\u0101 \nincipi\u014d vi\u0101 d\u0113scendere, d\u014dnec t\u014dta mihi vallis patet. Mox hort\u014ds \nme\u014ds c\u014dns\u012bder\u0101ns, frutic\u0113s observ\u014d grossul\u0101ri\u012bs[M] n\u014dn \ndissimil\u0113s, quibus propi\u014dr\u0113s cl\u012bv\u012b dist\u012bnct\u012b sunt. H\u014ds versus \nd\u012brig\u014d gradum. Magis magisque \u016bvidum inveni\u014d hoc latus jug\u012b, \nvelut spongiam; id quod r\u012bvum perennem pr\u014dmittit, herb\u012bs \npluvi\u0101lem aquam mult\u014ds per m\u0113ns\u0113s sustentantibus. Frutic\u0113s autem \nill\u012b in sicci\u014dre st\u0101bant \u014dr\u0101, quamquam prope ad \u016bmida. V\u012bt\u0113s \nrecogn\u014dsc\u014d, et \u016bv\u0101s cr\u0113d\u014d posse su\u0101 in tempest\u0101te hinc d\u0113ferr\u012b. \nPorr\u014d cr\u016bda m\u0101la citrea collig\u014d pl\u016bra l\u012bm\u014dn\u0101sque ad d\u0113lici\u0101s \nbibend\u012b. \n131. Regredior paul\u0101tim d\u0113scend\u0113ns, d\u014dnec ad j\u016bnct\u016bram vallium \nperting\u014d. At ips\u014d in laev\u014d vallis latere quasi viam n\u0101t\u016br\u0101lem \ncaespite obductam c\u014dnspicor, quae d\u0113cl\u012bvit\u0101te perquam modic\u0101 \n\u2e24saltum versus meum\u2e25 d\u016bcit. Per hanc libet d\u0113gred\u012b. Nusquam \nminus decem ped\u0113s l\u0101ta erat. Supr\u0101 ad laevam, \u012bnfr\u0101 ad dextram, \ncl\u012bvus satis arduus erat, herb\u012bs mult\u014drum generum abund\u0101ns, sed \nin fund\u014d arboribus c\u014dnsitus d\u0113nsissim\u012bs. Agn\u014dv\u012b pr\u014dtinus, \nfacillim\u0113 posse in trahul\u0101 me\u0101 ex hort\u012bs h\u0101c vi\u0101 fr\u016bct\u016bs ad \nr\u016bp\u0113s super cavern\u012bs d\u0113veh\u012b; nam caespes erat brevis, d\u016brissim\u014d \nin sol\u014d atque (ut arbitr\u0101bar) calc\u0101ri\u014d; jamque \u016bn\u014d in c\u014dnspect\u016b \nprope tria m\u012bllia viae hujus pat\u0113bant. D\u0113ambul\u0101ns alacer, saltum \ntandem meum in laev\u0101 praetere\u014d, mox d\u0113silientem illum r\u012bvulum \nassequor, vide\u014dque n\u014dn posse trahulam sine ponte h\u0101c tr\u0101ns\u012bre. \nSed t\u0101lem pontem n\u014dn magn\u012b esse operis j\u016bdic\u014d. \n132. Praecl\u0101rum s\u0101n\u0113 vid\u0113b\u0101tur hujus di\u0113\u012b iter. Laetus, atque \nidcirc\u014d l\u012bber\u0101lior, tr\u012btic\u014d atque horde\u014d Eur\u014dpae\u014d columb\u0101s \nlargiter p\u0101sc\u014d. H\u0101s fr\u016bg\u0113s \u2e24in saccul\u012bs condit\u0101s\u2e25 \u0113 n\u0101ve \nasport\u0101veram, sed parv\u012b aestim\u0101bam; nunc columb\u012bs largior. Neque \numquam s\u0101n\u0113 h\u0101s av\u0113s negl\u0113x\u012b, sed inter famul\u014ds reput\u0101ns, pl\u016bs \nminusve cib\u012b imperti\u0113bam. 133. In \u016bniversum aestimant\u012b, tr\u0113s \npart\u0113s \u2e24n\u0101t\u016br\u0101 d\u012bvers\u0101s\u2e25 \u012bnsula exhib\u0113bat,\u2014fr\u016bctiferam, \nsterilem, silvestrem. Sterilia ac sicca Capr\u012bnum op\u012bnor Jugum \ncoll\u0113sque vel gr\u016bm\u014ds inde porr\u0113ct\u014ds usque ad portum meum: ultr\u0101 \nJugum quidnam fuerit, n\u014dndum v\u012bderam. Spati\u014d long\u0113 minim\u014d \nfortasse erat fr\u016bctifera; sed ubi tantae silvae, ibi fr\u016bg\u0113s \naliquand\u014d esse possent. \n134. Equidem postquam s\u0113ns\u012b quant\u014d cum lab\u014dre r\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s \u0113sculent\u0101s \n\u0113 convalle humer\u012bs portem, placuit cymb\u0101 d\u0113vehere, s\u012b cum aest\u016b \nmaris fl\u016bmen ascendere possem. Qu\u014ddam di\u0113 h\u014ds propter \u016bs\u016bs \nsolit\u014d m\u0101t\u016brius ill\u0101tenus ascenderam, ubi quaedam hum\u014d n\u0101scentia \ncolligerem; tum, nisi contr\u0101 aestum m\u0113 d\u0113fat\u012bg\u0101re vellem, du\u0101s \nfer\u0113 h\u014dr\u0101s erat c\u014dns\u012bdendum. Qu\u0101r\u0113 cymb\u0101 tr\u0101nsgressus fl\u016bmen, \nregi\u014dnem ex Occ\u012bdente oppositam expl\u014dr\u014d. \u014cstium versus fl\u016bminis \nvald\u0113 praeceps erat r\u012bpa, sed ubi aestus maris d\u0113sinit, l\u0113ni\u014drem \nhab\u0113bat cl\u012bvum. Collis calc\u0101rius esse vid\u0113b\u0101tur, alter\u012b ill\u012b \nsuper cavern\u012bs me\u012bs simillimus. 135. Simul ac culmen attig\u012b, \nmare versus omnia esse praecipitia intelleg\u014d. In brevibus herb\u012bs \npr\u014dstr\u0101tus, caput ultr\u0101 marginem r\u016bpis pr\u014dtend\u014d, ejusque r\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s \nsubtus vide\u014d und\u012bs etiamnum lav\u0101r\u012b. Ulterius ad Septentri\u014dn\u0113s \nsurg\u0113bat m\u014dns \u012bnsulae ille altissimus, quam expl\u014dr\u0101veram. \nCeleriter ea v\u012bd\u012b quae maxim\u012b erant, rede\u014dque properus. 136. Vix \natting\u014d cymbam, atque tr\u0113s c\u014dnspicor psittac\u014ds in r\u0101m\u012bs \nc\u014dns\u012bdent\u0113s. Flagrum arripi\u014d (id erat in cymb\u0101), item illic\u014d \nvirgam d\u0113c\u012bd\u014d. Concit\u0101ti\u014dre flagr\u012b verbere psittacum assequor, \nh\u0101m\u014dque d\u0113prehend\u014d. R\u014dstrum ejus metu\u0113ns, sarment\u014d ocul\u014ds me\u014ds \npr\u014dteg\u0113bam. Ille autem subit\u014d dol\u014dre territus, pr\u014drsus exuit \nfortit\u016bdinem, neque vald\u0113 reluct\u0101b\u0101tur. Itaque sarment\u014d, quod in \nlaev\u0101 ten\u0113bam, caput ejus opprim\u014d, mox pede inculc\u014d sarmentum, \nexped\u012bt\u014dque cultell\u014d \u016bnam pl\u016bmam circumc\u012bd\u014d. N\u0113 longus sim, \nf\u016bnicul\u014d attentum d\u0113veh\u014d domum, asperi\u014dre capt\u016br\u0101 nihil gravius \nperpessum. F\u016bne pede d\u0113lig\u014d, pertic\u0101 ad \u012bnsidendum dat\u0101. \nFacilius id vid\u0113b\u0101tur, quam caveam \u0113 cancell\u012bs facere. \n137. Ego autem capt\u012bv\u012bs leporibus c\u014dnsul\u0113ns, d\u014dlium quoddam \u0113 \nperfr\u0101ct\u012bs tr\u0101nsenn\u0101 \u012bnstr\u016bxeram: h\u012bc in cav\u014d r\u016bpis d\u0113g\u0113bant. \nF\u012bmus capr\u012bnus, quem \u0113 stabul\u014d \u0113gererem, in sicci\u014dre hum\u014d \nappositus, loc\u014ds praepar\u0101bat in quibus caespit\u0113s herb\u0101sque \nleporibus d\u012bl\u0113ct\u0101s d\u0113foderem. Lepor\u0113s summ\u0101 c\u016br\u0101 p\u0101sc\u014d ac \nm\u0101nsu\u0113faci\u014d. \n138. Sed in n\u0101rr\u0101ti\u014dne me\u0101 paulum nunc regred\u012b opus est. Ut m\u0113 \noblect\u0101rem, saepius librum s\u016bm\u0113bam; ali\u0101s math\u0113maticum illum, \nqu\u012b teneram c\u016bram pr\u012bm\u012b me\u012b atque optim\u012b patr\u014dn\u012b revoc\u0101bat; \nali\u0101s ge\u014dgraphicum. Hinc qu\u014ddam di\u0113 d\u0113 Ind\u012bs \u0113disc\u014d, quam \npr\u016bdenter fer\u014ds elephant\u014ds m\u0101nsu\u0113faciant. Equidem d\u0113 capr\u012bs me\u012bs \nad trahulam jungend\u012bs c\u014dgit\u0101veram, sed n\u014dndum grand\u0113s erant: \nh\u0101rum autem opper\u012br\u012b aet\u0101tem, longum vid\u0113b\u0101tur. Jam, h\u012bs \nperl\u0113ct\u012bs, cr\u0113did\u012b, posse caprum ferum pariter ac ferum \nelephantum ad quamlibet apt\u0101r\u012b discipl\u012bnam, cujus quidem \u2e24ips\u012bus \nn\u0101t\u016bra\u2e25 foret cap\u0101x: c\u016bncta in e\u014d vert\u012b, ut feram in man\u016b \nten\u0113r\u0113s. 139. R\u0113 ponder\u0101t\u0101, d\u0113mum \u0113gressus sum, certus \nd\u0113pugnand\u012b. Du\u0101s succingor pistol\u0101s, quibus m\u0113 in extr\u0113m\u012bs \npr\u014dtegam; sed restibus laque\u012bsque sum fr\u0113tus. Laque\u012bs du\u014dbus \ntribul\u014ds ferre\u014ds, s\u012b r\u0113ct\u0113 rem n\u014dmin\u014d, validissim\u0113 annexueram. \nTribul\u012b autem t\u0101l\u012b erant n\u0101t\u016br\u0101, ut, hominis pede oppress\u012b, \ntr\u012bna sp\u012bcula in sol\u014d d\u0113f\u012bgerent. In r\u0113ticula herb\u0101s comport\u0101bam \ne\u0101s qu\u0101s maxim\u0113 d\u0113lig\u0113bant capr\u012b. Canem dom\u012b c\u014dnstring\u014d, atque \ns\u012bc arm\u0101tus s\u0113d\u0113s pet\u014d capr\u012bn\u0101s. Pl\u016br\u0113s ibi vide\u014d capr\u0101s atque \nhaed\u014ds; mox caprum quendam grandem ac r\u014dbustum contemplor, (vix \nminor erat quam bonus asinus) qu\u012b v\u012bribus c\u014dnf\u012bsus seorsum \nag\u0113bat. Hunc ade\u014d, herb\u0101s su\u0101vissim\u0101s porrig\u0113ns. 140. Ille autem \nneque territus neque \u012br\u0101tus, acc\u0113dit r\u014dditque libenter. Herb\u0101s \nin humum pr\u014djici\u014d, dumque p\u0101scitur, laque\u014ds cum tribul\u012bs super \ncornibus imp\u014dn\u014d. Tribulum \u016bnum pede pressum hum\u012b \u012bnf\u012bg\u014d; dein, \nantequam sentiat, inculc\u014d alterum quoque, et sub pede attine\u014d. \nPr\u014dtinus gn\u0101rus s\u0113 illig\u0101tum, in posteri\u014dribus cr\u016bribus s\u0113 \n\u0113rigit, s\u016brsum capite n\u012bt\u0113ns: ego autem terti\u014d laque\u014d ped\u0113s ejus \npr\u012bm\u014dr\u0113s involv\u014d. In e\u014d erat ut alterum extraheret tribulum, \nquand\u014d art\u0113 c\u014dnstrict\u012bs pr\u012bm\u014dribus pedibus, qu\u014ds in \u0101ere \nhab\u0113bat, ego asperrim\u0113 tr\u016bd\u0113ns d\u0113jici\u014d eum in latus. C\u014dns\u012bd\u014d in \narmum, inculc\u0101ns corn\u016b. Ille autem s\u012bc d\u0113press\u014d capite \npedibusque corrept\u012bs, onus violentissim\u0113 d\u0113trect\u0101bat, sed \nnequ\u012bbat excutere. Ego n\u014dn inv\u012btus sin\u014d eum s\u0113 d\u0113fat\u012bg\u0101re \ncalcitrantem, s\u016bbulamque[N] grandem ac l\u014drum expedi\u014d. 141. Summ\u0101 \nin tranquillit\u0101te labrum ejus superius perfodi\u014d, atque \u012bnser\u014d \nl\u014drum, quod \u0101nul\u012b \u012bnstar concinn\u014d, pl\u016bri\u0113s n\u014dd\u0101tum. Tribul\u012bs \nnov\u014d in loc\u014d d\u0113f\u012bx\u012bs, amplius paul\u014d l\u012bbert\u0101tis pedibus ejus \npermitt\u014d, ut amplius s\u0113 d\u0113fat\u012bget fr\u016bstr\u0101 conn\u012btend\u014d. Tandem \nd\u0113fessus, s\u016bd\u014dre perf\u016bsus, requi\u0113scit. Herb\u012bs in reticulum \nrecoll\u0113ct\u012bs, surg\u014d; convell\u014d tribul\u014ds, append\u014dque cerv\u012bc\u012b ejus; \ntum labr\u014d trah\u014d l\u0113niter. Is, dol\u014dre gem\u0113ns, \u0113r\u0113xit s\u0113, \ninv\u012btusque sequ\u0113b\u0101tur, pedibus etiamnum c\u014dnstrict\u012bs, sed n\u014dn \nadduct\u0113. 142. S\u012bc qu\u012bnqu\u0101gint\u0101 forsitan pass\u016bs eum d\u0113d\u016bx\u012b. Tum \nsubit\u014d reluct\u0101b\u0101tur; sed dol\u014dre labr\u012b percitus, corn\u016b m\u0113 \nferi\u0113bat: id v\u0113r\u014d facile cave\u014d, l\u014dr\u014d subtrah\u0113ns; simul, iterum \nadduct\u014d laque\u014d, praepedi\u014d cr\u016bra. S\u0101n\u0113 ille t\u014dtus contrem\u012bscere, \npraeterit\u014drum memor et posth\u0101c m\u0113 sequitur oboedientissim\u0113: quod \nsimul atque animadvert\u014d, porrig\u014d herb\u0101s ante n\u0101r\u0113s. N\u014dl\u0113bat \nr\u014ddere, sed od\u014drem lib\u0113ns capt\u0101bat; jamque facile eum in saltum \nmeum d\u0113d\u016bc\u014d. Ibi arbor\u012b firmiter allig\u0101tum fam\u0113 par\u014d expugn\u0101re. \nPorr\u014d id n\u016bll\u012bus erat lab\u014dris; etenim postquam haed\u014ds j\u016bxt\u0101 \naff\u012bxeram, mixt\u0101 cr\u016bd\u0113lit\u0101te et cl\u0113menti\u0101 mox pl\u0113nissim\u0113 est \ndomitus. \n143. Expl\u014dr\u0101t\u014d, posse feram s\u012bc subig\u012b, post aliquot di\u0113s capram \npariter aggressus, hanc quoque vel facilius d\u0113d\u016bx\u012b. Duo haed\u012b \ngrand\u0113s ac paene adultae m\u0101trem ad praesaepe volent\u0113s sec\u016btae \nsunt; tum nov\u0101 veter\u012b admixt\u0101 caterv\u0101 cito maer\u0113re d\u0113stitit. \nItaque grex meus jam caprum hab\u0113bat ac capram, item tr\u0113s haed\u014ds \ndu\u0101sque juvenc\u0101s capr\u0101s. Ego v\u0113r\u014d c\u016bnct\u014ds incipi\u014d trahul\u0101 \nc\u014dnsu\u0113facere. Difficile s\u0101n\u0113 est r\u0113s gest\u0101s \u014drdine stat\u014d \nn\u0101rr\u0101re. Quippe perpetu\u014d vari\u0101bantur lab\u014dr\u0113s me\u012b, neque umquam \n\u016bn\u014d quasi n\u012bs\u016b \u016bllum opus perf\u0113c\u012b, sed particul\u0101tim oper\u0101bar, \nseu tempest\u0101te cael\u012b m\u014dtus, seu phantasi\u0101, vel subit\u014d aliquid \nrecord\u0101ns; et s\u012bquid parum bene val\u0113re cr\u0113derem, refici\u0113bam in \nmelius. D\u0113 pisc\u0101ti\u014dne me\u0101 mox sum dict\u016brus. S\u012bc, inter lab\u014dr\u0113s \nmult\u014ds et \u014dti\u012b paulum, praeteri\u0113re m\u0113ns\u0113s. \n144. Circ\u0101 Kalend\u0101s Apr\u012bl\u0113s, ut cr\u0113d\u014d, imber m\u0101t\u016bt\u012bnus (d\u0113 qu\u014d \nmemor\u0101v\u012b) largior et almior cecidit. M\u012brum inde vig\u014drem nacta \nsunt omnia quae gignit humus, m\u012bramque ego ipse volupt\u0101tem \nperc\u0113p\u012b. Exspatiandum d\u0113cern\u014d. Ad speculam meam (d\u0113 qu\u0101 ante \nmemor\u0101v\u012b) \u0113n\u012bsus, pr\u014dgredior ut l\u012btus ad Orientem amplius \ncogn\u014dscerem. Duo m\u012bllia fortasse pass\u016bs pr\u014dcesseram, quum viam \nquandam L\u016bn\u0101tam vide\u014d (s\u012b s\u012bc licet appell\u0101re), quae flex\u016b \ncontinu\u014d, accl\u012bvit\u0101te modic\u0101, ab \u014dr\u0101 maris palm\u0101rum fer\u0101c\u012b ad \nculmen hujusce regi\u014dnis d\u016bc\u0113bat. Jam praeter \u014dram maritimam duo \nnumer\u0101bam pr\u014dmontoria du\u014dsque sin\u016bs: nunc Tertium hunc appell\u014d \nsinum. 145. C\u0113ter\u012bs in r\u0113bus pr\u012bm\u014d nihil nov\u012b exhib\u0113b\u0101tur, nisi \nquod ar\u0113nae extend\u0113bantur l\u0101tissimae. Pl\u016bribus h\u0101s r\u0113bus \ndist\u012bnct\u0101s vid\u0113bam. Exped\u012bt\u014d pr\u014dspecul\u014d, mar\u012bn\u0101s dispici\u014d \ntest\u0101s,\u2014imm\u014d test\u016bdin\u0113s,\u2014d\u012bversissim\u0101s magnit\u016bdine. Id quidem \ngaude\u014d. Porr\u014d h\u014dc in sin\u016b palmae ita domin\u0101bantur, ut vix \nquidquam aliud inter arbor\u0113s d\u0113super v\u012bderim. Pal\u016bd\u0113s autem \nlongi\u014dr\u0113s in r\u016bpibus continu\u0101bantur supr\u0101 palm\u0101s ill\u0101s. Ut \nexpl\u014drem c\u016bncta propius, pal\u016bde qu\u0101dam n\u014dn facile circuit\u0101, \nd\u0113scend\u014d ad \u014dram maris. Tria palm\u0101rum genera agn\u014dsc\u014d, flect\u014d \ns\u0113nsim ad sinistram, d\u0113mum L\u016bn\u0101t\u0101 ill\u0101 vi\u0101 domum rede\u014d. 146. \nPoste\u0101 m\u0113cum excuti\u0113ns, c\u016br in port\u016b me\u014d cact\u012b optim\u0113 \ncr\u0113scerent, palm\u0101rum nihil esset; collig\u014d, quia pal\u016bd\u0113s apud m\u0113 \nsuper r\u016bpibus n\u014dn sint, idcirc\u014d neque coc\u014ds neque ali\u0101s palm\u0101s \nn\u0101sc\u012b. 147. Jam d\u0113 grege quot\u012bdi\u0101na m\u0113 incessit c\u016bra, ign\u0101rum \nquid s\u0101nit\u0101t\u012b necess\u0101rium foret, et quantus ac qu\u0101lis hujus \naest\u0101tis calor. Multa f\u0113c\u012b, mox \u012bnfecta reddid\u012b; quae n\u0101rr\u0101re \nn\u014dn opus est. In salt\u016b me\u014d novum praesaepe medit\u0101bar. Sed haed\u014ds \nn\u014dn effugit\u016br\u014ds cr\u0113d\u014d, retent\u012bs capr\u014d capr\u0101que; igitur solv\u014d. \nCanis autem tunc m\u0113cum erat, ipsum ad saltum. Is, simul ut haed\u012b \nexcurrere in pr\u0101ta coep\u0113runt, nov\u0101 l\u012bbert\u0101te gestient\u0113s, ipse \nl\u016bd\u012b fit particeps: quippe coll\u016bs\u014drem di\u016b n\u014dn habuerat. Tum mihi \naspectus s\u0101n\u0113 erat j\u016bcundissimus. 148. Caper, imm\u014d capra, ut \ncr\u0113d\u014d, brev\u012b in curricul\u014d pl\u0113r\u014dsque can\u0113s v\u0113n\u0101tic\u014ds superat, sed \ncan\u012b perd\u016brat v\u0113l\u014dcit\u0101s. Ipsae s\u0113 haed\u012b tam pern\u012bc\u0113s \nostend\u0113bant, ut n\u014dn sine magn\u0101 contenti\u014dne canis e\u0101s \npraeverterit. Neque vol\u0113bant effugere; nam iterum iterumque \nred\u012bbant. Ego v\u0113r\u014d omnium hilarit\u0101te exhilar\u0101tus, increp\u014d m\u0113met, \nquod cicur\u0113s animant\u0113s tam innocent\u012b volupt\u0101te pr\u012bv\u0101verim. \n149. Capr\u014ds h\u014ds dictit\u014d; attamen n\u0113qu\u0101quam erant nostr\u0101tium \ncapr\u014drum ad normam. Antilop\u0101s equ\u012bn\u014ds vel \u1f44\u03c1\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1\u03c2 fortasse quis \nill\u014ds appell\u0101verit. Cerv\u012bx h\u014drum carn\u014dsa et arcu\u0101ta, armus \namplus pl\u0101nusque, equum gener\u014dsum refer\u0113bat. Pellis brevissim\u014d \nd\u0113lic\u0101tissim\u014dque vill\u014d s\u012bve l\u0101n\u016bgine, col\u014dre must\u0113l\u012bn\u014d, \nvesti\u0113b\u0101tur; neque saeta inerat neque pilus, praeterquam in jub\u0101 \natque in maris barb\u0101. Juba fer\u0113 t\u014dta in ips\u014d s\u0113dit arm\u014d. \nLacert\u014dsi\u014dr\u0113s erant quam d\u0101mae fulvae; fer\u014d potius cerv\u014d \ncompar\u0101verim. C\u0113tera erant rotunda, bene comp\u0101cta; cr\u016bra autem \ngracilia, ex osse d\u0113nsissim\u014d. Os frontis vald\u0113 r\u014dbustum cr\u0113did\u012b. \nCornua n\u014dn recurva, sed propi\u014dra taur\u012bn\u012bs; id quod arcu\u0101tae \ncerv\u012bc\u012b cr\u0113d\u0113bam aptius. Caprae cornua diverg\u0113bant aliquantum. \n150. Anteh\u0101c c\u016bnct\u014ds in trahul\u0101 exercueram, sed sine pondere: \npondus n\u016bd\u014d dors\u014d saepius imp\u014dn\u0113bam: nunc capr\u014d capraeque \nquot\u012bdi\u0101num lab\u014drem adj\u016bdic\u014d, s\u012b r\u0113ct\u0113 possim appar\u0101re. \nRetin\u0101cula f\u016bn\u0101lia trahulae adapt\u0101veram, sed coll\u0101re tract\u014drium \nlong\u0113 erat difficilius. Quidquid comp\u0113geram, rudius esse s\u0113ns\u012b: \nid enim erat agendum, ut n\u0113 pulm\u014dnem onus opprimeret. V\u012bd\u012b tamen \narm\u014ds cerv\u012bcemque equ\u012bn\u012bs esse tam compari\u0101, ut s\u012b male r\u0113s \ncessisset, artifex culpandus foret, n\u014dn animal. Nihil\u014dminus \ntoti\u0113s male rem gess\u012b, ut d\u0113stiterim amplius h\u0101c in vi\u0101 c\u014dn\u0101r\u012b. \nF\u016bn\u0113s d\u0113mum me\u014ds circum frontem, cornibus sustent\u0101t\u014ds, composu\u012b; \nid quod s\u012b n\u014dn optim\u0113, at satis bene c\u014dnf\u0113cit rem. \n151. Ligna quae superne ad r\u016bpis marginem conv\u0113x\u012b, \u2e24ut pl\u016brimum\u2e25 \nd\u0113volv\u014d, trahul\u0101 supr\u0101 relict\u0101. Fer\u0113 quot\u012bdi\u0113 post f\u012bn\u012btum \nimbrem haed\u014ds cum cane submitt\u014d in cl\u012bv\u012bs l\u016bs\u016br\u014ds. Vald\u0113 mihi \nplac\u0113bat, quod canis circumcurrere et circumscr\u012bbere e\u0101s, \np\u0101st\u014dr\u012bci\u012b canis m\u014dre, magis in di\u0113s disc\u0113bat. Ego autem, s\u012b \nlongiuscul\u0113 abesse vid\u0113rentur, jub\u0113bam: \u201c\u012bret, red\u016bceret:\u201d quod \nquidem ille, quasi prob\u0113 intelleg\u0113ns, c\u014dnfestim faci\u0113bat. Porr\u014d \ngrex ipse canem d\u012bligere vid\u0113b\u0101tur. Jam sp\u0113r\u0101bam n\u014dn necesse \nfore ut h\u0101s vinc\u012brem, quae ferae l\u012bbert\u0101tis n\u014dn record\u0101rentur. \n152. Aliud quoque mox exc\u014dgit\u0101v\u012b. Ex virgul\u0101 qu\u0101dam, puer\u014drum \nnostr\u014drum m\u014dre, cav\u0101t\u0101 ac terebr\u0101t\u0101, fistulam c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b. H\u0101c cl\u0101r\u0113 \ncan\u0113bam quoti\u0113s gregem eram p\u0101st\u016brus: imm\u014d, s\u012b in vi\u0101 inter \ntrahendum capr\u014d forem v\u0113scend\u012b fact\u016brus c\u014dpiam, fistul\u0101 ante\u0101 \ns\u0113dul\u014d son\u0101bam; neque umquam e\u014ds fr\u016bstr\u0101bar, sed post illum \ncantum, aut cib\u0101tum ill\u012bs aut p\u014dtum fid\u0113lissim\u0113 affer\u0113bam. Inde \nfactum est, ut son\u014d fistulae libentissim\u0113 accurrerent. 153. D\u0113 \ncib\u014d me\u014d restat aliquid n\u0101rrandum. P\u0101nem nauticum ac far\u012bnam \u0113 \nn\u0101ve e\u014d magis c\u014dns\u016bm\u0113bam, quia ver\u0113bar n\u0113 m\u016bc\u0113scerent. Vide\u014d \nautem, s\u012b Summ\u012b N\u016bminis d\u0113cr\u0113t\u014d h\u012bc di\u016btius mihi sit d\u0113gendum, \ndomestic\u012bs opus esse c\u014dpi\u012bs. Quidquid herb\u0101rum, ar\u014dmatis, \nfr\u016bctuumve condiat cib\u014ds, s\u012b nec ponder\u014dsum sit et c\u014dnserv\u0101r\u012b \nqueat, id fateor \u0101 longinqu\u014d n\u014dn male import\u0101r\u012b: sed quidquid \nsit qu\u014d v\u0113scar praesertim, hoc omne sub me\u0101 esse man\u016b oport\u0113re \ncr\u0113d\u014d. Igitur agellum vel angulum potius in port\u016b diosc\u014dre\u012bs \nd\u0113stin\u0101veram, s\u012b humum id\u014dneam afferre possem. Sicc\u0101tae carnis \npaululum rest\u0101bat, neque id j\u016bcundum. Leporem, praeter pr\u012bmum \nillud \u0101 cane, n\u014dn gust\u0101veram; sed pisc\u0113s facile capi\u014d,\u2014id quod \nexplicandum est. 154. Pr\u012bm\u014d l\u012bne\u0101 h\u0101m\u012bs \u012bnstr\u016bct\u0101 pisc\u0101bar, sed \nhujus vald\u0113 taed\u0113bat m\u0113. Poste\u0101 p\u014dne cymbam parvum verriculum \ntrah\u0113bam, quod identidem scr\u016bt\u0101bar, pl\u016br\u0113sque h\u014dc mod\u014d pisc\u0113s \ncapi\u0113bam. Mox alia succurrit rati\u014d,\u2014ut \u014dstium port\u016bs verricul\u012bs \ntr\u0101jicerem; idque f\u0113c\u012b, quamv\u012bs difficile erat valida ferr\u0101menta \nin scopul\u014ds ill\u014ds (Post\u0113s qu\u014ds d\u012bx\u012b) \u012bnf\u012bgere. Cl\u0101v\u014ds sp\u012bc\u0101t\u014ds \u0113 \nferr\u014d optim\u014d postquam satis acu\u012b, malle\u014d artill\u0101t\u014dris s\u012bc \nimp\u0113g\u012b, ut angust\u0101s r\u012bm\u0101s inter saxa exsculperem: h\u016bc ad\u0113g\u012b \nferr\u0101menta, quibus r\u0113tia inn\u012bterentur. 155. Aestus allu\u0113bat \npisc\u0113s, qu\u014drum aliquot saltem numquam n\u014dn relinqu\u0113bantur in \nverricul\u012bs. Interdum magna v\u012bs capi\u0113b\u0101tur; tunc maritimae av\u0113s \nper r\u0113tia irruent\u0113s m\u0113que et praedam meam vex\u0101bant. Quoniam \n\u2e24corticibus subl\u0101ta\u2e25 nat\u0101rent verricula, pisc\u0113s attin\u0113bantur sub \naqu\u0101, quae profunda erat in \u014dsti\u014d. Itaque hoc meum aestim\u014d esse \nv\u012bv\u0101rium, unde pisc\u0113s, quoti\u0113s velim, n\u014dn magn\u014d lab\u014dre capi\u014d. \nMagnum mihi lab\u014drem attulerant verricula; sed animum meum, d\u0113 \ncib\u0101t\u016b canis f\u0113liumque \u0101nxium, s\u014dl\u0101bantur. \n156. Profect\u014d quand\u014d d\u0113 me\u012bs lab\u014dribus m\u0113cum reput\u014d, illa mihi \ninterdum subit animum contempl\u0101ti\u014d, anne, s\u012b optimus par\u0113ns, ut \nerat tenerrimus, s\u012bc sag\u0101x fuisset meaeque intelleg\u0113ns indolis, \nposset forsan m\u0113 dom\u012b apud s\u0113 ten\u0113re, contentum atque be\u0101tum. \nNae, s\u012b prob\u0113 m\u0113 n\u014dsset, n\u014dn in Anglic\u0101rum l\u0113gum studia,\u2014semper \n\u0101rida, jej\u016bna, saepissim\u0113 praeposter\u0101,\u2014incumbere m\u0113 voluisset; \nsed impigrum ac str\u0113nuum aliquod opus, ubi oculus manusque \nviget, t\u0101l\u012b commend\u0101sset f\u012bli\u014d. Poteram autem patriae l\u012btora vel \nagrum l\u0101tius pervag\u0101r\u012b, parentibus n\u014dn d\u0113relict\u012bs. Etenim \nmemin\u012b, quand\u014d eram in Braz\u012bli\u0101, quamdi\u016b nova erat opera, m\u012br\u0101 \nm\u0113 vehementi\u0101 eam semper persec\u016btum esse. Nempe ut fortis equus \n\u012bre vult, sed qu\u014drsum aut qu\u0101r\u0113, nescit; s\u012bc impet\u016b qu\u014ddam ad \nagendum \u012bnst\u012bg\u0101bar, n\u016bll\u014d satis cert\u014d \u0101cti\u014dnis f\u012bne pr\u014dposit\u014d: \nitaque, rem quampiam assec\u016btus, simul fast\u012bdi\u0113bam. Nec \u016blla \nprofundior causa in f\u016bnestam illam et sceler\u0101tam n\u0101vig\u0101ti\u014dnem m\u0113 \npr\u014dpulit, ex qu\u0101 in exilium tr\u012bstissimum et lab\u014dri\u014dsissimum sum \nd\u0113tr\u016bsus. \nCAPUT (VII.) SEPTIMUM. \n157. D\u0113 capiend\u012bs piscibus memor\u0101v\u012b: d\u0113 coquinand\u012bs add\u014d pauca. \nOcto decemve pisc\u0113s, vel pauci\u014dr\u0113s s\u012b grand\u0113s erant, rapid\u014d igne \nleviter \u0113lix\u0101bam, tum pinn\u0101s,\u2014id est, t\u014dta latera,\u2014capita, \ncaud\u0101s, f\u0113libus me\u012bs reserv\u0101bam. Magn\u0101 sp\u012bn\u0101 extract\u0101, c\u0113teram \ncarnem aut super cr\u0101ticul\u0101 leviter torr\u0113bam, aut cum fab\u012bs vel \ngr\u0101n\u014d admisc\u0113bam pr\u014d canis cib\u0101t\u016b. Equidem in verricul\u014d saepius \nmar\u012bna anim\u0101lia inveni\u0113bam, qu\u0101lia n\u0113m\u014d pisc\u0113s n\u014dmin\u0101verit: \nporr\u014d piscium genus vald\u0113 carn\u014dsum, quod magn\u012b aestim\u0101bam, \nsqu\u0101tin\u012bs nostr\u012bs simillimum. Illud add\u014d: s\u012b vellem, poteram \nfacillim\u0113 grall\u0101t\u014dri\u0101s av\u0113s quae inter caut\u0113s aut ips\u014d in port\u016b \npisc\u0101bantur, igne d\u0113ject\u0101s capere: sed carnem pisc\u014dsam fore \ncr\u0113did\u012b, pulveris nitr\u0101t\u012b dispendi\u014d male \u0113mptam. \n158. Far\u012bn\u0101 autem \u0113lix\u0101 cum piscibus v\u0113sc\u0113bar pr\u012bm\u014d; mox Arabum \nm\u014dre ass\u0101s placent\u0101s faci\u0113bam. Nempe, combust\u012bs super ferre\u0101 \nl\u0101min\u0101 vel pl\u0101n\u014d sax\u014d lign\u012bs, pr\u016bn\u0101s submov\u0113bam; placent\u0101s \u016bd\u0101s \nin calid\u0101 superfici\u0113 posit\u0101s sub patell\u0101 ferre\u0101 obteg\u0113bam: huic \niterum superinger\u0113bam pr\u016bn\u0101s. Placentae subter, velut in furn\u014d, \ncoqu\u0113bantur: sed ferment\u0101re placent\u0101s nesci\u0113bam. 159. D\u0113 h\u012bs \nh\u0101ctenus. C\u0113terum d\u0113 pulchrit\u016bdine r\u0113rum quae domicilium meum \ncing\u0113bant, n\u014dn eram inc\u016bri\u014dsus. In fl\u014dribus aut foli\u012bs s\u012b quid \nexcelleret, pl\u016bri\u0113s report\u0101v\u012b aut r\u0101d\u012bcem aut sarmentum, quod \nd\u0113foderem in cavern\u0101rum v\u012bc\u012bni\u0101. Summ\u0101 in aest\u0101te coc\u012b nucem, \nquae su\u0101 ex arbore d\u0113ciderat, report\u0101v\u012b m\u0113cum, pl\u0113n\u0113 m\u0101t\u016bram \ncr\u0113d\u0113ns; mox ips\u014d in port\u016b me\u014d serendam d\u0113cr\u0113v\u012b. Etenim s\u012bc \ncomment\u0101bar m\u0113cum: \u201cs\u012b proper\u0113 in Angliam \u0101vehar, numquam m\u0113 \npaenit\u0113bit hanc s\u0113visse arborem, pl\u016brium fortasse parentem, \nali\u014drum hominum domicilium \u014drn\u0101t\u016bram: s\u012bn h\u0101c in \u012bnsul\u0101 d\u0113tinear \nultr\u0101 biennium, gaud\u0113b\u014d arbusculam vid\u0113ns surgentem.\u201d S\u0113dul\u014d \nd\u0113l\u0113g\u012b locum serend\u012b, congess\u012bque humum \u016bberrimam; statu\u014d \nirrigandam esse d\u012bligentissim\u0113. 160. Post diem s\u0101n\u0113 lab\u014dri\u014dsum, \ndum sub astr\u012bs v\u0113scor et bib\u014d, antequam m\u0113 in aqu\u0101rum lav\u0101crum \ncommittam, m\u012bror quamnam ob rem m\u0113 tantopere fat\u012bgem. \u201cAnne, \u014c \nfatue Rebil\u012b, nihil tibi esse operis put\u0101s? Tim\u0113sne, n\u0113 facile \nnimis v\u012bv\u0113ns, socordi\u0101 opprim\u0101ris?\u201d Tum responde\u014d: (etenim m\u014dris \nme\u012b erat, multa cl\u0101r\u0113 loqu\u012b. Nisi hoc f\u0113cissem, patriae linguae \nforem obl\u012btus: imm\u014d ipsum mentis ac\u016bmen hebet\u0101tum foret. Sed \nprope omnia mea difficili\u014dra c\u014dnsilia, pl\u0113n\u0101 \u014dr\u0101ti\u014dne \npr\u014dn\u016bntiand\u014d, d\u0113f\u012bni\u0113bam magis et c\u014dnsumm\u0101bam.) Itaque \nresponde\u014d: \u201cCibus, vestis, domicilium, v\u012btam asservant hominis; \nsed pulchrit\u016bd\u014d be\u0101tam facit v\u012btam. Ad portum meum ad\u014drnandum, \nin hon\u014drem ejus et pulchrit\u016bdinem, cocum nucem c\u0113ter\u0101sque r\u0113s \nc\u014dns\u0113v\u012b.\u201d Extempl\u014d etiam cl\u0101rius, \u201c\u014ch fatue Rebil\u012b! (inquam) \nhominum neutiquam miserrimus es t\u016b, qu\u012b ad\u014drnand\u014d domicili\u014d d\u0101s \noperam.\u201d \n161. Aliam rem, absurdum forsitan, n\u014dn absurdum erit l\u0113ct\u014dr\u012b \ncomm\u016bnic\u0101re. Qu\u0101rt\u014d di\u0113 postquam cocum \u012bns\u0113v\u012b, longius d\u016brante \npluvi\u0101, tempus comput\u0101bam, inveni\u014dque n\u0101t\u0101l\u012b m\u0101tris di\u0113 m\u0113 illam \ns\u0113visse nucem. Mox memin\u012b, quam incertum sit, v\u012bvatne m\u0101ter an \nmortua sit. M\u012br\u0113 tang\u0113bar et tener\u0101 perfund\u0113bar memori\u0101. Tum \nquia pl\u016br\u0113s n\u014dveram vel aud\u012bveram, qu\u012b praes\u0101gium mortis \nalicujus s\u0113 habuisse cr\u0113derent, hoc mihi ips\u012b m\u0101tris mortem \n\u014dmin\u0101r\u012b vid\u0113b\u0101tur. Etenim jam fassus sum, m\u0113, simul ac opere \ncess\u0101rem, maestum saepius \u0113v\u0101sisse fr\u0101ctumque anim\u014d. 162. Quand\u014d \nm\u0113 inepti\u0101rum inc\u016bs\u014d, responde\u014d, \u201cfortasse n\u014dn esse ineptum.\u201d \nNam s\u012b restituat m\u0113 Deus in patriam, tum aut gaud\u0113b\u014d v\u012bvam \ninveni\u0113ns m\u0101trem, aut r\u0113ctissim\u0113 praec\u0113per\u014d d\u0113bitam maestitiam. \nS\u012bn numquam restituar, sed s\u014dlit\u0101rius peream, minus sum \ninh\u016bm\u0101nus, minus ab omnibus necessit\u016bdinibus abruptus, quand\u014d \nc\u0101rit\u0101te praeterit\u014drum \u0113mollior. Melius autum\u014d, propter ficta \nh\u016bm\u0101n\u0101rum r\u0113rum fl\u0113re, quam r\u0113bus h\u016bm\u0101n\u012bs omn\u012bn\u014d n\u014dn tang\u012b, et \npr\u014d m\u0113 s\u014dl\u014d v\u012bvere. 163. Quamobrem ubi n\u014dna venit di\u0113s, d\u0113cern\u014d \nin hon\u014drem m\u0101tris novemdi\u0101lem praeb\u0113re c\u0113nam. Hospit\u0113s autem, \nqu\u014ds s\u014dl\u014ds potu\u012b inv\u012bt\u0101re, erant psittacus, canis, grex, \nlepor\u0113s, f\u0113l\u0113s, columb\u012b. H\u012bs optimam, quantum possim, par\u014d \nc\u0113nam. C\u0113ter\u014ds facile sati\u014d, sed du\u0101s capell\u0101rum experior \navidissim\u0101s. Magnit\u016bdine in di\u0113s cr\u0113sc\u0113bant. Omn\u0113s, cib\u014d \nsucculent\u014d p\u0101st\u014ds, sp\u0113r\u0101bam maj\u014dr\u0113s pingui\u014dr\u0113sque quam fera \nanim\u0101lia fore, s\u012b semper largiter praeb\u0113rem. Etenim v\u0113l\u014dcit\u0101tem \nin capr\u012bs minim\u0113 cupi\u0113bam. Pondus corporis trahulae conveni\u0113bat \nvel lac pr\u014dmitt\u0113bat \u016bberius; itaque larg\u0101 man\u016b p\u0101sc\u0113bam lib\u0113ns. \nIn p\u0101bul\u014d autem erat gr\u0101men merum, frond\u0113s item herbae pl\u016br\u0113s \nd\u0113lic\u0101tae, qu\u0101s in m\u0101tris hon\u014drem suggesseram. H\u0101s c\u016bnct\u0101s \ncomedunt, concup\u012bscuntque etiam. Imber d\u0113stiterat commod\u0113: \nc\u0113nse\u014d igitur f\u012bniendam in salt\u016b novemdi\u0101lem c\u0113nam. 164. Quam \ncelerrim\u0113 \u0101nul\u014d l\u014dre\u014d caprum appar\u014d, ejusque caudae capram \nadjung\u014d: c\u0113ter\u014ds solv\u014d. Falc\u0101tum gladium in balteum \u012bnser\u014d, \ncaprumque d\u016bc\u0113ns n\u014dtum ascend\u014d tr\u0101mitem. Ill\u012b sequuntur. Canis \nin fronte excurrit, psittacus humer\u014d me\u014d \u012bns\u0113derat, su\u014d m\u014dre \ngarri\u0113ns incontinenter. F\u0113l\u0113s \u2e24m\u012br\u0101bundae \u0113migr\u0101ti\u014dnem\u2e25 ejulant, \ntamquam pl\u014dr\u0101tr\u012bc\u0113s (op\u012bn\u0101bar) ad sepulcrum, mox n\u014dl\u0113bant \npr\u014dgred\u012b: cum leporibus dom\u012b reman\u0113bant. Magnam v\u0113l\u012b laciniam \ncum f\u016bnicul\u012bs in dorsum capr\u012b conj\u0113ceram; s\u012bc saltum attin\u0113mus. \nHaed\u012b altern\u012bs p\u0101scuntur, l\u016bdunt. Sed ego gladi\u014d falc\u0101t\u014d herb\u0101s \nfrond\u0113sque moll\u0113s, quae sub quot\u012bdi\u0101n\u0101 pluvi\u0101 luxuri\u0101bant, \nlargiter succ\u012bd\u014d,\u2014ali\u0101s lacini\u0101 v\u0113l\u012b obvolv\u014d, ali\u0101s mer\u014d f\u016bne \ncollig\u014d,\u2014super dors\u014d j\u016bment\u014drum app\u014dn\u0113ns. Opport\u016bnum erat, quod \ntunc haec p\u0101bula d\u0113port\u0101v\u012b, nam poste\u0101 propter pluvi\u0101s paul\u014d \ndifficilior fuit convecti\u014d. C\u0113terum animantium hilarit\u0101s et mea \nips\u012bus excit\u0101ti\u014d maestitiam mihi dispulit. \n165. Sub longi\u014dre pluvi\u0101 multum ego cum psittac\u014d loqu\u0113bar; quod \nquidem ab initi\u014d f\u0113ceram. Sed postquam c\u014dnsu\u0113tus est nuc\u0113s atque \nali\u014ds cib\u014ds \u0113 man\u016b me\u0101 capere, gaud\u0113batque me\u014d advent\u016b, proper\u0113 \ndisc\u0113bat loqu\u012b, et vald\u0113 m\u0113 r\u012bs\u016b alloqui\u014dque s\u014dl\u0101b\u0101tur. Etenim, \nut pl\u016brimum, doc\u0113bam eum s\u012bc pr\u014dn\u016bnti\u0101re: \u201c\u014c fatue Rebil\u012b!\u201d s\u012bc \nenim m\u0113met appell\u0101re sol\u0113bam. Atqu\u012b ille voc\u0101bulum \u201cfatue\u201d aut \nn\u014dn potuit d\u012bcere aut n\u014dn voluit, meum autem n\u014dmen libentissim\u0113 \nac pl\u0113nissim\u0113 pr\u014dfer\u0113bat. 166. Aliquand\u014d audi\u0113bam, \u014c debil\u012b \nRebil\u012b; vel, \u014c febil\u012b Rebil\u012b; ali\u0101s, \u014c hebil\u012b Rebil\u012b; quae \nquidem s\u012bc interpret\u0101bar, ut essent, \u014c d\u0113bilis, \u014c fl\u0113bilis, \u014c \nhabilis! dubit\u0101bamque subr\u012bd\u0113ns, numne habilis magis an d\u0113bilis \nessem. Sed long\u0113 saepius meum n\u014dmen ipsum iter\u0101bat, et quasi \nvari\u0101bat am\u0101t\u014dri\u0113. \u014c Rebil\u012b Rebil\u012b, inqui\u0113bat; tum acceler\u0101ns \nsemper son\u014drum cursum, \u014c Reb\u012b bil\u012b, Reb\u012b reb\u012b, Reb\u012b relil\u012b, Reb\u012b \nlibil\u012b, \u014c!\u2014Et quum ego tr\u012bst\u012b cum misericordi\u0101 voc\u0101bulum \u014c! \npr\u014dn\u016bnti\u0101rem, ille m\u0113 imit\u0101ns pr\u012bm\u014d tragic\u0101 sev\u0113rit\u0101te d\u012bc\u0113bat \n\u014c! sed in f\u012bne tamquam cavill\u0101ns d\u0113r\u012bd\u0113nsque illud \u014c! \njocul\u0101riter effer\u0113bat, d\u014dnec in cachinn\u014ds solvor.\u2014Neque vinc\u012bre \neum opus erat; itaque lig\u0101mina d\u0113tr\u0101x\u012b. \n167. Omnium \u016bvidissimus, ut op\u012bnor, J\u016bnius erat m\u0113nsis, numquam \ntamen qu\u012bnque vel sex h\u014dr\u0101s exsuper\u0101bant pluviae. Qu\u014ddam di\u0113 \npost imbrem splendida fuit cael\u012b ser\u0113nit\u0101s cum aur\u0101 mollissim\u0101. \nInterrog\u0101v\u012b m\u0113met, quidnam facere oport\u0113ret. Statim respond\u012b,\u2014\n\u201cNunc, s\u012b vir es, Rebil\u012b! test\u016bdinem mar\u012bnam report\u0101bis.\u201d Hoc \nnamque saepe cup\u012bveram, c\u014dn\u0101tus eram numquam; sed h\u0101c in \n\u2e24cl\u0101rit\u0101te s\u014dlis\u2e25 post pluviam, test\u016bdin\u0113s cr\u0113d\u0113bam summ\u0101 in \naqu\u0101 susp\u0113nsum \u012br\u012b. 168. Cymb\u0101 exped\u012bt\u0101 pr\u014dgressus sum. L\u0101t\u014d \nl\u0113n\u012bque m\u014dt\u016b fluctu\u0101bat aequor maris, molle, r\u016bg\u014dsum, et quasi \nole\u014d perf\u016bsum. Ferv\u014drem s\u014dlis aura mar\u012bna discuti\u0113bat: itaque \nperg\u014d. Tertium illum atting\u014d sinum; mox vide\u014d test\u016bdin\u0113s \npl\u016brim\u0101s, summ\u012bs in aqu\u012bs apr\u012bcant\u0113s, fortasse dorm\u012btant\u0113s. \nCautissim\u0113 circumspici\u014d, et modic\u0101 d\u0113lig\u014d[O] magnit\u016bdine \u016bnam, \ncujus caput erat \u0101versum. 169. L\u0113nissim\u014d m\u014dt\u016b all\u0101bor, omn\u0113sque \ncave\u014d strepit\u016bs; dein ped\u0113s test\u016bdinis posteri\u014dr\u0113s tr\u0101nsvers\u012bs \nmanibus arripi\u0113ns, dum ad pr\u014dram genibus inn\u012btor, \u016bn\u014d m\u014dl\u012bmine \nac jact\u016b praedam medi\u0101 in cymb\u0101 tene\u014d sup\u012bnam. Morsus test\u016bdinis \nhorrendus est: hunc s\u012b cav\u0113bis, c\u0113tera erunt in facil\u012b: in \ndorsum autem conjecta, jacet imm\u014dbilis. C\u014dnfestim rede\u014d, tam \ncit\u014d success\u016b laetus. Postmodo haec praeda maj\u014dris mihi erat \nquam put\u0101veram. \n170. In di\u0113s mox foedior ingru\u0113bat tempest\u0101s. Tandem inter \nnimb\u014ds nigerrim\u014ds pr\u014dd\u012bbant fulgura tremenda, quae fr\u012bgus \nmaximum incuti\u0113bant: grandinis procellae sequ\u0113bantur. Tonitrua \nper pl\u016br\u0113s h\u014dr\u0101s erant paene continua. Mare vehementer fur\u0113bat; \naestus ips\u0101s ad r\u016bp\u0113s pertigit. Quand\u014d pluvia paulisper \nd\u0113stitit, exe\u014d pr\u014dspect\u016brus: ecce autem car\u012bna n\u0101vis nostrae \ndecem m\u0113nsibus post naufragium, ips\u012bs in ar\u0113n\u012bs intr\u0101 caut\u0113s \npr\u014djecta. 171. Extr\u0101 caut\u0113s mare mont\u014dsum erat; intr\u0101 tam \nperfr\u0101ctum, ut n\u016blla posset esse cymbae \u016btilit\u0101s: sed vald\u0113 \nbrevem esse intelleg\u014d aquam. Tant\u0101 sum cupidit\u0101te inc\u0113nsus, ut \ncalig\u012bs ac bracchi\u012bs ex\u016bt\u012bs, mare ingressus n\u0101vis fragmina \nsc\u0101nserim. Summae s\u0101n\u0113 partis n\u014dn multum rest\u0101bat: quid \nreman\u0113ret in alve\u014d, vol\u014d inqu\u012brere. Facile vide\u014d et multa inesse \net nihil posse m\u0113 id temporis \u0101m\u014dl\u012br\u012b: itaque postquam satis \nexpl\u014dr\u0101v\u012b, rede\u014d domum, per aqu\u0101s praeter r\u016bp\u0113s necess\u0101ri\u014d \nv\u0101d\u0113ns. 172. Sed alg\u0113bam, crepit\u0101bantque dent\u0113s me\u012b. M\u016bt\u014d \nvest\u012bmenta: fric\u014d cutem: sed alge\u014d tamen. Ignem accend\u014d, neque \ninde multum acqu\u012br\u014d cal\u014dris. S\u0113nsim inv\u0113n\u012b, penitus in v\u012bscera \nd\u0113scendisse fr\u012bgus, et morb\u014d m\u0113 pertent\u0101r\u012b. Pr\u014djectus in cub\u012bl\u012b, \nquidquid ibi erat vest\u012bment\u014drum circumvolvor. N\u0113quicquam. \nIgn\u0101rus quid facere oporteat, pav\u0113sc\u014d n\u0113 vesper ingruat, \ntenebr\u012bs obtegar, inops auxili\u012b c\u014dnsili\u012bque. Tandem alg\u014dribus \nme\u012bs nimius fervor succ\u0113d\u0113bat, vald\u0113 profect\u014d violentus. 173. \nInterdum Maur\u014drum f\u014drmulam adhib\u0113ns, in pectore asp\u012br\u0101v\u012b: \u201c\u014c \nDeus! \u0101 t\u0113 pr\u014dd\u012bv\u012b, ad t\u0113 redeam!\u201d Quid foret, esse s\u014dlit\u0101rium, \ntum d\u0113mum cogn\u014dveram. Jac\u0113re, st\u0101re, sed\u0113re, c\u016bncta dol\u0113bant; \nflagr\u0101bat caput. Corporis dol\u014dr\u0113s angor mentis exsuper\u0101bat. \nTenebr\u0101s, omnium r\u0113rum maxim\u0113, metu\u0113bam. Surg\u014d, pede titubante \ninc\u0113d\u014d, aquam p\u014dtulentam et citrea m\u0101la quaer\u0113ns. \u014cs interius \npl\u0101n\u0113 siccum erat; lingua s\u012b bucc\u0101s, s\u012b pal\u0101tum tangeret, ibi \nadhaer\u0113bat. Qu\u0101r\u0113 m\u0101lum citreum in tenuissim\u0101s quasi assul\u0101s \nconc\u012bd\u012b, qu\u0101rum \u016bnam linguae apposu\u012b: ali\u0101s in p\u014dcul\u014d compress\u012b, \ndeinde aqu\u0101 commiscu\u012b. Hoc medic\u0101mentum sorbill\u0101bam, interdum \nbib\u0113bam. Cr\u0113did\u012b ferv\u014dr\u012b v\u012bscerum id fore \u016btile. Alteram mox \natque alteram super linguam comp\u014dn\u014d assulam citricam, siccit\u0101tis \nlev\u0101mentum. Jam nox adveni\u0113bat, recordorque anim\u0101lia n\u014dn esse \np\u0101sta. F\u0113l\u0113s vehementer ejul\u0101bant. Neque potu\u012b e\u0101s abigere, \nneque, dum fervor capitis \u012bnstat, sufficiunt mihi v\u012br\u0113s ad \nministrandum. \n174. Tandem in s\u016bd\u014drem solvor: post h\u014dr\u0101s dolentissim\u0101s m\u0113ns s\u0113 \naliquantum recuperat. Spiss\u014d obvol\u016btus palli\u014d, cib\u0101tum praebe\u014d \nf\u0113libus, leporibus, capr\u012bs, can\u012b, quamquam d\u0113bilis t\u014dt\u014d corpore. \nJam certum habe\u014d, qu\u0101lis sit febris hujus n\u0101t\u016bra; f\u0113l\u012bcemque m\u0113 \nj\u016bdic\u014d, quod l\u016bx in tantum d\u016br\u0101verit. Mente lev\u0101tus, pl\u016brim\u012bsque \nvestibus opertus, somnum capt\u014d; sed quand\u014d dorm\u012bt\u014d paulisper, \nmorbida m\u0113 terrent \u012bnsomnia, pr\u0101v\u0101 religi\u014dne pl\u0113n\u0101. S\u0101n\u0113 \npl\u016bribus h\u014dr\u012bs ante l\u016bcem ipse s\u016bdor cessat; tum, quamv\u012bs \nd\u0113fessus, lab\u014dri\u014ds\u0113 cutem perfric\u014d, et quidquid \u0113 vest\u012bment\u012bs \nmaxim\u0113 sit vill\u014dsum, lib\u0113ns amplector: ligna in cul\u012bn\u0101 accend\u014d. \nD\u0113 remedi\u014d morb\u012b tum meditor. D\u012bx\u012b m\u0113 cinch\u014dnam \u0113 valle \napport\u0101sse, atque in \u016bsum cori\u012b adhibuisse. Bonam hinc esse \nmedic\u012bnam n\u014dveram; nunc v\u0113r\u014d contr\u0101 am\u0101rit\u016bdinem ejus firm\u0101ns \nmentem, aqu\u0101 commixtam l\u012bber\u0113 p\u014dt\u014d. Nec dubit\u014d qu\u012bn m\u0113 sag\u0101citer \nc\u016br\u0101verim; nam febris n\u014dn rediit. M\u0101ne autem \u0113 cub\u012bl\u012b surg\u0113ns, \nc\u014dgit\u014d quid poste\u0101 faciendum. \n175. Impr\u012bm\u012bs statu\u014d: s\u012b possim, noctem \u012bnsequentem n\u014dn sine \nl\u016bmine m\u0113 \u0101ct\u016brum. Aut cand\u0113l\u0101s aut lucernam aliquam j\u016bdic\u014d \nnecess\u0101riam. Nihil facilius vid\u0113b\u0101tur, quam Maur\u014drum r\u012bt\u016b rem \nc\u014dnficere, s\u012b aut oleum aut s\u0113bum hab\u0113rem. Sed quicquid fuit, id \nomne cr\u0113did\u012b c\u014dns\u016bmptum esse, aut in cib\u0101t\u016b canis aut in scaph\u0101 \nresarciend\u0101, s\u012bve in retin\u0101cul\u012bs j\u016bment\u014drum vel in serr\u0101. Tum \ntest\u016bdinis remin\u012bscor: hujus adipem vol\u014d adhib\u0113re. Item carnem \nejus, ut novum quiddam, pr\u014d cib\u014d statim concup\u012bsc\u014d. D\u0113 mactand\u0101, \nfateor, haesit\u0101bam; nam t\u0101le f\u0113ceram nihil. Caput test\u016bdinis s\u012b \namput\u0101bitur, tamen (ajunt) post v\u012bgint\u012b quattuor h\u014dr\u0101s mord\u0113bit \nten\u0101cissim\u0113. Quid erg\u014d occ\u012bdet eam? Ego v\u0113r\u014d op\u012bnor, amput\u0101t\u014d \ncapite, nihil dol\u014dris s\u0113ns\u016brum corpus. Igitur ips\u014d in d\u014dli\u014d, ubi \nin aqu\u0101 mar\u012bn\u0101 serv\u0101b\u0101tur, amput\u014d caput: hoc caut\u0113 forcipe \nabjici\u014d: c\u0113tera conc\u012bd\u014d et pl\u016brima intus \u014dva inveni\u014d. H\u014drum \nquattuor pr\u014dtinus torre\u014d, v\u0113scorque cum placent\u0101. Maximam vim \nadipis excipi\u014d. Partem hujus (eam fer\u0113 quae solidior erat) pr\u014d \nplacent\u012bs assand\u012bs vel pr\u014d sart\u0101gine reserv\u0101v\u012b: long\u0113 pl\u016brimam \npr\u014d ole\u014d s\u016bmps\u012b. Tum d\u0113 l\u012bn\u0101ment\u012bs c\u014dgit\u014d. 176. F\u0113l\u012bciter \naccidit, quod huic re\u012b n\u014dn opus est v\u012bribus: l\u012bn\u0101menta \ncontorqu\u0113re, puell\u0101rum potest esse opera. Veterum f\u016bnium \nquidquid esset corruptum, pr\u014d stupp\u0101 reposueram. Inde du\u0101bus \nh\u014dr\u012bs l\u012bn\u0101menta c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b, quot tr\u012bgint\u0101 noctibus facile \nsufficerent. In ferre\u0101 patell\u0101 d\u0113p\u014dn\u014d adipem ac l\u012bn\u0101mentum s\u012bc \ncircumtortum, ut f\u012bnis hujus super labr\u014d patellae minimum tantum \nd\u0113pendat. Ipsum l\u012bn\u0101mentum liquid\u0101 adipe satur\u0101tum accend\u014d, \nexperiorque rem bene pr\u014dc\u0113dere. Equidem s\u012b dorm\u012brem, n\u0113mine \nl\u012bn\u0101mentum subinde extrahente, post paul\u014d ext\u012bnctum foret: \nattamen id parum r\u0113ferre c\u0113nse\u014d; nam per igni\u0101ria possem \naccendere, ut pr\u012bmum \u0113vigil\u0101rem. Poste\u0101 juvat m\u0113 inv\u0113nisse, \nt\u0101lem febrem posse subig\u012b. \n177. Post tr\u012bduum f\u012bn\u012btae sunt pluviae, et s\u014dl pr\u014dcessit \ncl\u0101rissimus. Ego quoque pr\u014dde\u014d, tep\u014dre gaud\u0113ns. Inv\u012bs\u014d l\u012btus. \nVide\u014d d\u014dli\u012bs str\u0101tum, cad\u012bs, arc\u012bs perfr\u0101ct\u012bs, lign\u012bs omnis \nf\u014drmae et ferr\u0101ment\u012bs. Paene in sicc\u014d erat ipse n\u0101vis alveus, \ncum ancor\u0101 atque ancor\u0101l\u012b. C\u016bncta jam pr\u014d me\u012bs d\u0113stin\u014d, sed vol\u014d \nrelax\u0101r\u012b paulisper; etenim minus firmum m\u0113 s\u0113ns\u012b: igitur ab h\u012bs \nrede\u014d in portum. 178. F\u0113l\u0113s vide\u014d, utramque cum catul\u012bs rec\u0113ns \nn\u0101t\u012bs. Tum m\u0113 subit: \u201c\u0100h! illud erat, qu\u0101r\u0113 ade\u014d ejul\u0101v\u0113re; n\u014dn \ntamquam f\u016bneris pl\u014dr\u0101tr\u012bc\u0113s, sed ut expostul\u0101rent catul\u014drum \nalimenta.\u201d Bon\u012bs m\u0101tribus collaud\u0101t\u012bs, praetere\u014d. Jamque \nrecordor, feram f\u0113lem pr\u012bm\u014d ill\u014d di\u0113 esse \u0101 m\u0113 v\u012bsam; d\u0113 qu\u014d \nposte\u0101 aliquoti\u0113s dubit\u0101veram. Agn\u014dsc\u014d, aut in salt\u016b aut in \nsilv\u0101 magn\u0101 t\u0101l\u0113s inven\u012br\u012b b\u0113sti\u0101s. 179. Gregem d\u0113ambul\u0101ns \nassequor. Haed\u014ds omn\u0113s grand\u0113scere ac pingu\u0113scere not\u0101veram; \njamque vide\u014d j\u016bni\u014dr\u0113s capell\u0101s spem pr\u014dlis dare. Inv\u012bs\u014d lepor\u0113s: \n\u0113n autem, lepus f\u0113mina lepuscul\u014ds \u0113diderat. N\u014dn r\u012bd\u0113re n\u014dn \npoteram: imm\u014d cachinn\u0101v\u012b. S\u012bc autem interpret\u0101tus sum: Teneram \npr\u014dgeniem male n\u0101sc\u012b ante f\u012bn\u012bt\u0101s pluvi\u0101s: qu\u0101r\u0113 s\u012bc esse \u0101 \nN\u0101t\u016br\u0101 compar\u0101tum, ut quam proxim\u0113 poste\u0101 n\u0101scerentur. \n180. L\u0113ct\u014dr\u012b d\u0113n\u016bntiandum est, inde ab ill\u0101 febre piet\u0101tis m\u0113 \nc\u014dnscium novae factum. R\u0113 n\u014dn pr\u014drsus nova erat; nam inde ab \nips\u014d naufragi\u014d quasi ferment\u0101ti\u014d mentis coepta est. Tum pr\u012bmum \ndidic\u012b, quant\u012b esset h\u016bm\u0101na c\u0101rit\u0101s, quam j\u016bcundus ipse aspectus \nhominis. Mox erg\u0101 ipsa anim\u0101lia \u0113molli\u0113bar, qu\u014drum c\u0101rit\u0101tem \npl\u016bris quam \u016btilit\u0101t\u0113s aestim\u0101bam. Deinde intell\u0113x\u012b, quam ing\u0113ns \nesset inter gener\u014dsissimum br\u016bt\u014drum atque \u012bnfimum hominem \ndiscr\u012bmen: etenim quemv\u012bs \u0113 serv\u012bs me\u012bs Braz\u012blic\u012bs loc\u014d canis \noptim\u012b vehementissim\u0113 amplexus forem. 181. Jam paenit\u0113bat m\u0113 d\u0113 \nparentibus: n\u0113minem praeter m\u0113met culp\u0101bam. Erg\u0101 h\u014ds reverentia, \nerg\u0101 omn\u0113s impetus qu\u012bdam am\u014dris ac d\u0113s\u012bderi\u012b m\u0113 exerc\u0113bat: \nitaque, ut op\u012bnor, ad r\u0113ctam religi\u014dnem eram m\u0101t\u016brus. Etenim \nd\u012bxit nesci\u014d quis: \u201cQu\u012b \u012bnferi\u014dra bene amat, hic superi\u014drem bene \nvener\u0101bitur.\u201d Attamen ante hanc febrem ipse Deus ign\u014dtus qu\u012bdam \nac nimius vid\u0113b\u0101tur mihi; quem quidem d\u012bligere, praeter n\u0101t\u016bram \nesse c\u0113ns\u0113bam. Nec h\u012bs d\u0113 r\u0113bus singill\u0101tim juvat explic\u0101re. \nQuippe neque ego ab ali\u012bs neque c\u0113ter\u012b \u0101 m\u0113 eam religi\u014dnem \n\u0113discent, quae pectoris est, n\u014dn merae mentis. 182. Sed ips\u0101 in \nfebre, quand\u014d tranquill\u0113 De\u014d m\u0113 comm\u012bs\u012b, intell\u0113x\u012b pr\u012bmum, quam \nn\u014dn longinquus esset Deus; imm\u014d, ips\u014d ill\u014d in loc\u014d adesse illum, \ns\u012b uspiam alib\u012b. Exinde profundior d\u0113 religi\u014dne m\u0113 inv\u0101d\u0113bat \nc\u014dgit\u0101ti\u014d; neque c\u014dgit\u0101ti\u014d s\u014dlum, sed cordis qu\u012bdam m\u014dtus, qu\u012b \nm\u0113 tunc pr\u012bmum ad sacram l\u0113cti\u014dnem \u012bnst\u012bg\u0101bat. \n183. \u0112 quattuor me\u012bs libr\u012bs, \u016bnum d\u012bx\u012b esse precum L\u016bsit\u0101n\u0101rum \nsecundum f\u014drm\u0101s Pap\u0101l\u0113s. Idcirc\u014d spr\u0113veram. Nunc autem leg\u0113ns, \npl\u016br\u0113s inveni\u014d versicul\u014ds \u0113 J\u016bdaic\u012bs et Chr\u012bsti\u0101n\u012bs libr\u012bs, qu\u012b \nc\u016bnct\u014drum sunt, n\u014dn Papist\u0101rum modo. Duo m\u0113 praesertim \ncommov\u0113bant. \u201cQuem d\u012bligit Dominus Deus, hunc cast\u012bgat, per \nvirg\u0101rum discipl\u012bnam \u0113rudi\u0113ns f\u012bli\u014ds.\u201d Item. \u201cQu\u0101r\u0113 hom\u014d, qu\u012b \nv\u0113scitur aur\u0101, d\u0113 poen\u012bs d\u0113lict\u014drum conquer\u0101tur? nae, pr\u014ddest in \njuvent\u0101 sustin\u0113re jugum.\u201d 184. T\u0101l\u012b l\u0113cti\u014dne affectum, prec\u0113s et \nv\u0113rae et vehement\u0113s s\u0101nct\u014d m\u0113 gaudi\u014d tum pr\u012bmum pertent\u0101runt. \nPorr\u014d hinc repper\u012b, unde s\u014dlit\u0101riae v\u012btae d\u0113r\u012bv\u0101rem s\u014dl\u0101tia. \nInqui\u0113tissimus s\u0101n\u0113 interdum eram, pertaesus s\u014dlit\u016bdinis et \nsusp\u012br\u0101ns ad alloquium; attamen tria tandem pl\u0113n\u0113 didic\u012b:\u2014\nc\u014dnstantius ea quae anim\u014d, quam ea quae ocul\u014d percipiuntur, \nperman\u0113re:\u2014Deum n\u014dn minus mihi esse praesentem, quod abessent \nhomin\u0113s:\u2014d\u0113nique, Ut ex h\u014dc taedi\u014d m\u0113 potuit \u0113ripere, s\u012bc in \ne\u014ddem posse illum \u2e24p\u016brg\u0101t\u014d mihi anim\u014d\u2e25 pl\u0113ni\u014drem dare \nl\u012bber\u0101ti\u014dnem.\u2014Sed haec pedetentim et pl\u016br\u0113s per m\u0113ns\u0113s. Quippe \nv\u0113ra religi\u014d v\u012bta est, n\u014dn discept\u0101ti\u014d ingeni\u014dsa, nec nisi mult\u0101 \npectoris exercit\u0101ti\u014dne ips\u0101rumque r\u0113rum experienti\u0101 percipitur. \nCAPUT (VIII.) OCT\u0100VUM. \n185. D\u0113 grege erat quod m\u0113 male hab\u0113bat. Capr\u012b maxim\u012b quamquam \nlabrum perf\u014dderam, tamen expertus sum aliquand\u014d fer\u014dciter eum \ncornibus petere; idque per\u012bcul\u014dsum esse s\u0113ns\u012b, quand\u014d ad \ntrahulam eum vellem lig\u0101re. R\u0113 perp\u0113ns\u0101, n\u0113 mihi aliquand\u014d sit \n\u012bnf\u0113stus, cornuum ejus maximam partem serr\u0101 amput\u014d. Relinqu\u014d \ntantum, quantum helci\u012bs sustentand\u012bs sit opus. Exinde gn\u0101rus \nd\u0113min\u016bt\u0101rum v\u012brium, tranquillior factus est. 186. N\u0113 posth\u0101c \nobl\u012bv\u012bscar, h\u012bc libet n\u0101rr\u0101re, quidnam cornibus ejus f\u0113cerim. \nSolidi\u014dra erant, quam capr\u0101rum quae asserv\u0101veram: jam arcum \nterebrand\u012b gr\u0101ti\u0101 c\u014dnficere statu\u014d. Saxum quoti\u0113s vellem \nperfor\u0101re, nihil \u0113 me\u0101 supellectile plac\u0113bat. Erat mihi terebra,[\nP] erat cestrum[Q] fabr\u012ble, utrumque tenue nimis; n\u014dn nisi lign\u014d \nvel cornu\u012b terebrand\u014d id\u014dneum. Ad saxum terebrandum cl\u0101v\u012bs \nsp\u012bc\u0101t\u012bs \u016bt\u0113bar mult\u014d cum lab\u014dre; nunc arcum r\u012bt\u016b Maur\u014drum libet \nadhib\u0113re. 187. Impr\u012bm\u012bs \u0113 v\u0113l\u014drum f\u016bniumque trochleol\u012bs \u016bnam \nd\u0113l\u0113g\u012b bonam, perfect\u014d orbe, cujus in medi\u014d quadr\u0101tum erat \nfor\u0101men. Ferreolum item d\u0113lig\u014d; (multa in l\u012btore t\u0101lia tunc \njac\u0113bant) quae illud for\u0101men tantum[R] n\u014dn intret. Hujus \u016bnum \nf\u012bnem igne moll\u012btum vald\u0113 tund\u014d, ut sit et solidior et paene \nac\u016btus: alterum f\u012bnem in teretius concinn\u014d. Mox l\u012bm\u0101 h\u012bc atque \nh\u012bc d\u0113tr\u012btam, in for\u0101men trochleolae imping\u014d. Ac\u016bti\u014drem f\u012bnem \nmol\u0101 quoque exacu\u014d: s\u012bc ipsam terebram perf\u0113c\u012b. 188. Arcus \nrestat. Anqu\u012bs\u012bt\u014d r\u014dbore solid\u014d, \u016bnum fragmentum circumc\u012bd\u014d \nserr\u0101; dein duo for\u0101mina paul\u014d obl\u012bqua terebr\u014d, qu\u014drum in \nutrumque \u012bnferci\u0101tur corn\u016b \u012bnfimum. Spatium inter haec relinqu\u014d, \nvelut man\u016bbrium, quod firmiter possim prehendere: du\u014dbus l\u0101min\u012bs \nferre\u012bs ac f\u016bne r\u014dbust\u014d c\u014dnfirm\u014d j\u016bnct\u016bram: Cac\u016bmina cornuum \nlax\u014d nerv\u014d connectuntur: hic est arcus. 189. Nervus, trochleolae \nconvol\u016btus tr\u0101nsversusque, fit t\u0113nsus: tum arcus, citr\u014d ultr\u014dque \ntractus, terebram rotat. Porr\u014d in angust\u014d axe for\u0101men faci\u014d, \nquod alter terebrae f\u012bnis facile intret. Axem hunc in dextr\u0101 \nten\u0113ns, d\u012brig\u014d terebram, dum sinistr\u0101 arc\u016b operor. Simplic\u012b h\u014dc \nappar\u0101t\u016b saxa dehinc long\u0113 facilius terebr\u014d. \n190. Vereor n\u0113 taedi\u014d sim l\u0113ct\u014dr\u012b, s\u012b pl\u016brima quae \u0113lab\u014dr\u0101v\u012b \nacc\u016br\u0101t\u0113 explicem. Nova atque ampla m\u0101teri\u0113s \u0113 ferr\u014d lign\u014dque, \nquam cum reliqui\u012bs n\u0101vis nostrae nactus eram, nov\u0101 m\u0113 implet \nambiti\u014dne: item auctus grex vim novam trahend\u012b offert. Idcirc\u014d, \npl\u016brima convehenda d\u0113stin\u0101ns, maj\u014drem vol\u014d c\u014dnstruere traham, \ntam l\u0101tam, ut aequ\u0101 fronte j\u016bmenta trahant tria, m\u0113que ipsum, \nquoti\u0113s velim, hab\u0113n\u0101s retinentem, vehant. Quidquid lign\u014d \nferr\u014dve c\u014dnficiendum erat, c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b; sed corium d\u0113erat. 191. \nPell\u0113s s\u012b hab\u0113rem, nec depsend\u012b eram per\u012btus, nec lib\u0113ns propter \npell\u0113s capr\u014ds occ\u012bderem. Tantum animal, tam pl\u0113num sanguine, \nmact\u0101re, \u0101vehere, conc\u012bdere, nauseam mihi mov\u0113bat. 192. Sed \u0113 \nfruticibus maritim\u012bs \u016bnum repper\u012b, cujus folia f\u016bnicul\u012bs \ncompar\u0101verim. Haec in s\u014dle sicc\u0101ta, mox ole\u014d t\u012bncta, leviter \ncontors\u012b, tum ex connex\u012bs r\u014dbusti\u014dr\u0113s str\u016bx\u012b f\u016bn\u0113s. Inde \nm\u0101teriem hab\u0113bam, \u0113 qu\u0101 hab\u0113n\u0101s, retin\u0101cula, etiam helcia atque \nali\u0101s r\u0113s j\u016bment\u012bs \u016btil\u0113s c\u014dnfici\u014d. H\u012bs s\u012b n\u014dn optim\u0113 \n\u012bnstru\u0113bar, me\u012bs tamen \u016bsibus fu\u0113re id\u014dne\u012b. \n193. Vix opus est d\u012bcere quam c\u016bri\u014ds\u0113 omnia ferr\u0101menta ex l\u012btore \ncoll\u0113gerim; nihil equidem spr\u0113v\u012b \u0113 lign\u012bs, d\u014dli\u012bs, arc\u012bs, fr\u0101cta \nan solida essent. Maj\u014dra quaedam ligna, mult\u014d m\u014dl\u012bmine s\u016brsum \ntracta ips\u012bs in cal\u014dribus, pr\u014d ponte d\u0113stin\u014d, per quem traha mea \naquulam \u0113 salt\u016b tr\u0101meet. Cr\u0101tibus superjact\u012bs et fisc\u014drum \nfrust\u012bs, cum tabul\u012bs et hum\u014d, viam tandem c\u014dnsolid\u0101v\u012b. 194. \nAlteram quoque viam sub r\u016bpibus cr\u0113d\u014d necess\u0101riam, n\u0113 aest\u016b \nmaris interrump\u0101tur trahae comme\u0101tus. Torn\u014d me\u014d (id est, nov\u0101 \nterebr\u0101) saxa cav\u014d, nitr\u0101t\u014d pulvere discutienda; et \u2e24minus \nlab\u014dri\u014ds\u0113 quam expect\u0101veram\u2e25 objic\u0113s \u0101move\u014d viae. Profect\u014d hanc \nviam facilius c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b, quam ponticulum illum, qu\u012b quidem n\u014dn \nmagn\u014d poterat esse \u016bsu\u012b, d\u014dnec tr\u0101mitem super rubr\u0101 r\u016bpe f\u0113ceram \ntrahae pervium. Omnium me\u014drum operum hoc v\u012br\u0113s me\u0101s \u016bnic\u0113 \nexhausit, praesertim quia aurae tum maxim\u0113 st\u0101gn\u0101bant. Sed \npr\u014dtinus magna habu\u012b adj\u016bmenta fr\u016bgibus vel fr\u016bctibus \nd\u0113portand\u012bs, s\u012bve ab hort\u012bs me\u012bs s\u012bve \u0101 convalle. \n195. Qu\u012bnt\u014d di\u0113 ante Kalend\u0101s Sext\u012bl\u0113s, caprae duae partum \n\u0113did\u0113runt, \u016bnaquaeque b\u012bnam pr\u014dgeniem. Pr\u012bm\u014d lac mihimet av\u0113bam, \nc\u014dnorque mulg\u0113re. Huic re\u012b inhabilis fu\u012b, reput\u0101nsque d\u0113cl\u012bn\u014d \nmulgend\u012b lab\u014dr\u0113s, n\u0113 ego potius pecor\u012b quam pecus mihi \n\u012bnserviat; nam s\u012b mulgend\u012b neglig\u0113ns forem, id pecor\u012b foret \ncr\u016bd\u0113le, mox lactis cohib\u0113ret pr\u014dfluvium. Tum in d\u0113lic\u0101ti\u014dr\u0113s \ncib\u014ds lac adhib\u0113re, long\u0113 nimi\u012b temporis erat et c\u016brae. Sp\u0113r\u014d m\u0113 \ncoc\u012bs nucibus cito abund\u0101t\u016brum, atque h\u0101rum lac semper fore in \npr\u014dmpt\u016b. H\u012bs autem d\u0113 nucibus sunt quaedam explicanda, quae \npraeterm\u012bseram. 196. N\u014dlueram barbar\u014drum m\u014dre pr\u014dc\u0113r\u0101s arbor\u0113s \nscandere; id quod et lab\u014dri\u014dsum fore et per\u012bcul\u014dsissimum \ncr\u0113did\u012b. Nov\u0101s sc\u0101l\u0101s hanc ad rem, du\u014dbus ante\u0101 m\u0113nsibus, et \npropriam falculam comment\u0101tus sum. Et quidem pr\u014d falcul\u0101, \n\u2e24perticae longae in f\u012bne\u2e25 loculum inc\u012bd\u014d, ubi inhaereat \u0101nsa \ncultr\u012b coqu\u012bn\u0101ris: tum \u2e24f\u016bnicul\u014d c\u0113r\u0101 oblit\u014d\u2e25 (nam massam \nquandam c\u0113rae hab\u0113bam) \u0101nsam illam perticamque circumvol\u016btam \nfirmiter c\u014dnstr\u012bnx\u012b. Atqu\u012b modica firmit\u016bd\u014d poterat sufficere; \nnam ac\u016bt\u014d cultr\u014d leviter amputantur nuc\u0113s.\u2014Pr\u014d sc\u0101l\u012bs ips\u014d in \ncoc\u014drum sin\u016b p\u0101r id\u014dneum arborum succ\u012bd\u014d, tr\u012bgint\u0101 fer\u0113 ped\u0113s \nlong\u0101rum, postquam capita d\u0113tr\u0101x\u012b. Utramque d\u0113dol\u0101tam \u2e24quantum \npossim sine d\u0113tr\u012bment\u014d r\u014dboris\u2e25 extenu\u014d, ut quam levissimae sint \nsc\u0101lae. S\u0101n\u0113 erant cavae, (medull\u0101 qu\u0101dam pl\u0113nae,) idcirc\u014d \nr\u014dbusti\u014dr\u0113s, quam s\u012b ejusdem fuissent ponderis et longit\u016bdinis, \nsed solidae. Grad\u016bs sc\u0101l\u0101rum add\u014d, \u0113 lign\u012bs atque \u0113 f\u016bne, ut in \ncubicul\u0101ribus me\u012bs: sed tr\u0113s in summ\u014d f\u016bn\u0113s vald\u0113 lax\u014ds \nrelinqu\u014d, ut sc\u0101lae applic\u0101tae quasi amplectantur arborem, nec \npossint d\u0113l\u0101b\u012b. T\u0101l\u012b \u012bnstr\u016bment\u014d adj\u016btus, cr\u0113did\u012b posse m\u0113 \namplam nucum vim d\u0113cerpere, quamquam pl\u016brimae coc\u012b \u2e24long\u0113 \npr\u014dc\u0113ri\u014dr\u0113s\u2e25 macac\u012bs opulentam reserv\u0101bant praedam. Haec, cr\u0113d\u014d, \nin Maj\u014d m\u0113nse f\u012bn\u012bta sunt. 197. Equidem coe\u014drum \u016btilit\u0101t\u0113s parum \nintelleg\u0113bam; sed pl\u016brim\u0101s esse gn\u0101rus, nihil rej\u0113ceram. Frond\u0113s \npenn\u0101sve (s\u012b ita licet d\u012bcere) parvae ill\u012bus coc\u012b, quam pr\u014d \nr\u0113m\u012bs succ\u012bd\u012b, animadvert\u012b paene tegul\u014drum[S] esse \u012bnstar. H\u0101s \nf\u016bnicul\u012bs ita c\u014dnsueram, ut cucull\u012b[T] vicem optim\u0113 gesserint. \nMedullam coc\u014drum arborum atque ali\u0101rum palm\u0101rum statu\u014d \nexpl\u014drandam: corticem omnem asserv\u014d. \n198. Grex, (quem propter s\u0101nit\u0101tem m\u0101t\u016brius in saltum \ntr\u0101nsd\u016bx\u012b,) \u0113vuls\u012bs sol\u014d pedic\u012bs, in vallem rediit. C\u016bnct\u014ds \ninveni\u014d circ\u0101 vetus praesaepe, herb\u0101s \u2e24\u016bberrim\u0101s atque appr\u012bm\u0113 \nsucculent\u0101s\u2e25 summ\u014d cum gust\u0101t\u016b r\u014ddent\u0113s. Pedic\u0101s d\u0113tr\u0101x\u012b, ips\u0101s \nanimant\u0113s reput\u0101ns \u0101 N\u0101t\u016br\u0101 melius quam \u0101 m\u0113 \u0113doc\u0113r\u012b, ubinam \npotissimum d\u0113gere oport\u0113ret. Quoniam cicur\u0113s inveni\u014d s\u012bbil\u014dque \nfistulae oboedient\u0113s, id mihi sufficit. Succurrit anim\u014d, quantum \nr\u014dboris \u0101m\u012bserint vaccae nostr\u0101t\u0113s domesticae, quam saepe \ndifficil\u012b part\u016b torqueantur, per nostram import\u016bnam c\u016br\u0101ti\u014dnem. \nVereor n\u0113 meum gregem imm\u016btem, s\u012b stult\u0113 ego m\u0113 immisceam. 199. \nS\u0113rius, quum aurae st\u0101gn\u0101rent calorque ingrueret, n\u014dn ad saltum \nperr\u0113x\u0113re, sed ad apertum ac summum collem; fortasse quia \nculic\u0113s vel oestr\u012b urg\u0113bant. Mult\u014d m\u0101ne (cr\u0113d\u014d) p\u0101sc\u0113bantur, \nante l\u016bcem; poste\u0101 auram captant\u0113s m\u012br\u0113 apr\u012bc\u0101bantur summ\u014d in \ncolle, ib\u012bdem dormient\u0113s. 200. Ego quoque in st\u0101gnante aur\u0101 \npertaesus cavern\u0101rum, postquam aliquot noct\u0113s iterum inter r\u0101m\u014ds \narboris dorm\u012bveram, melius fore cr\u0113d\u014d, s\u012b gregem sequar. Qu\u0101r\u0113 \nmult\u0101 ac difficil\u012b m\u0101chin\u0101ti\u014dne tr\u0113s asser\u0113s longissim\u014ds summ\u014d \nin colle s\u012bc \u0113r\u0113x\u012b, ut d\u0113 collig\u0101t\u012bs capitibus lectus p\u0113nsilis \nsustin\u0113r\u0113tur. Ego per f\u016bnem ascend\u014d, qu\u012b d\u0113super fluit\u0101ns quasi \nin \u0101nul\u014ds n\u014dd\u0101tur, in qu\u014ds ingredior. Ut pr\u012bmum lectulum \nattingerem, f\u016bnem illum ad m\u0113 recipi\u0113bam. T\u0101lis erat nov\u012b \ncub\u012blis f\u014drma. \n201. Haec inter opera, ex nov\u014d qu\u014ddam junc\u014d contexu\u012b dorsu\u0101lem \nillam, d\u0113 qu\u0101 d\u012bx\u012b, tegetem; item foli\u012bs r\u014dscid\u012bs tum pr\u012bmum \ncaput meum sub \u012bnful\u0101 cond\u014d. Etenim nimius erat fervor s\u014dlis; \nquamquam calor n\u014dn ade\u014d suff\u014dc\u0101bat quantum metueram. Ill\u0101 in \nregi\u014dne ips\u012bus aest\u0101tis nox longiuscula est, fl\u0101batque identidem \nsicc\u0101 in tempest\u0101te vespert\u012bnus turb\u014d vent\u012b, qu\u012b \u0101era \nrefr\u012bger\u0101bat; necn\u014dn qu\u0101v\u012bs in nocte aura quaedam mont\u0101na \nsuperi\u014dribus in loc\u012bs senti\u0113b\u0101tur. 202. Maris temperiem s\u0113nsim \naug\u0113scere cr\u0113d\u0113bam; ego autem magis magisque lav\u0101cr\u012bs capt\u0101bam \nfr\u012bgus. S\u012b caput ac dorsum \u0101 s\u014dle d\u0113fend\u0101s, ali\u014d tegmine vix \nopus est, nisi propter culic\u0113s; ego v\u0113r\u014d, tenuissim\u0113 amictus, \nposse vid\u0113bar multum lab\u014dris vel summ\u0101 in aest\u0101te perferre. \n203. F\u012bn\u012bt\u014d quod maxim\u0113 urg\u0113ret, par\u014d humum optimam ab \u014dsti\u014d \nfl\u016bminis ad portum tr\u0101nsvehere, in qu\u0101 diosc\u014dreae serantur. \nLocum d\u0113l\u0113g\u012b, quem possem ex r\u012bvul\u014d \u2e24quoti\u0113s vellem\u2e25 irrig\u0101re. \nHunc ad \u016bsum ligna aliquot s\u012bc cav\u0101v\u012b, ut compluvi\u012b[U] \u012bnstar \nessent. R\u014dbustissim\u0101s me\u0101s tabul\u0101s ad traham c\u016br\u0101tius \nc\u014dnstr\u012bnx\u012b, ut humus ingesta n\u0113 efflueret. Du\u014dbus j\u016bment\u012bs \nb\u012bduum conveh\u014d humum: traha sub r\u016bpibus in pl\u0101n\u014d currit: cava \nloca imple\u014d; quidquid fim\u012b uspiam rejectum est, comport\u014d, \nopperiorque tempus diosc\u014dre\u012bs ips\u012bs plantand\u012bs. \n204. Multum fru\u0113bar lectul\u014d p\u0113nsil\u012b. Sub astr\u012bs j\u016bcundum erat \nfr\u012bgus, aliquand\u014d tamen nimium. Nox decem h\u014dr\u0101s d\u016br\u0101bat, ac sine \ncrepuscul\u014d. Tot h\u014dr\u0101s dorm\u012bre n\u014dn possum, fr\u012bg\u0113sc\u014d interdum sub \nn\u016bd\u014d aethere. Gregem comperi\u014d p\u0101sc\u012b tr\u0113s vel quattuor h\u014dr\u0101s ante \ns\u014dlem, dorm\u012bre post mer\u012bdiem: cr\u0113d\u014d m\u0113, iterum anim\u0101lia \nimitantem, sequ\u012b N\u0101t\u016bram ducem. Ante s\u014dlem exortum i\u012bs r\u0113bus \noperor, quibus l\u016bx est minus necess\u0101ria: inter h\u0101s v\u0113scend\u012b \noperam numer\u014d atque inc\u0113dend\u012b s\u012bve ad cavern\u0101s s\u012bve ad vallem. \nSed \u016bnusquisque di\u0113s suum habuit col\u014drem suumque opus. 205. Jam \ncr\u0113d\u014d adv\u0113nisse tempus fr\u016bct\u016bs colligend\u012b. \u016av\u0101s in hort\u012bs \ninveni\u014d mult\u012bs in loc\u012bs jam m\u0101t\u016br\u0101s. Aliquot gust\u0101t\u012bs, magnam \nvim d\u0113cerptam resticul\u012bs suspend\u014d, ut s\u014dle \u0101r\u0113scant. Mult\u014ds per \ndi\u0113s h\u016bc comme\u0101ns \u012bdem faci\u014d, pl\u016br\u0113sque fr\u016bct\u016bs trah\u0101 report\u014d. \n206. Tum ricinum inveni\u014d fruticem, \u0113 qu\u0101 oleum illud quod \n\u201ccast\u014dreum\u201d vulg\u014d appellant, c\u014dnficitur. Mult\u014d cum gaudi\u014d \nmaniocam inveni\u014d, ex qu\u0101 c\u014dnficitur cass\u0101va p\u0101nis. Hanc in \nBraz\u012bli\u0101 n\u014dveram: inde etiam excoquitur Tapioca Angl\u014drum. Porr\u014d \nban\u0101na vel m\u016bsa h\u012bs in loc\u012bs n\u0101sc\u0113b\u0101tur, \u012bnfr\u0101 autem n\u0101n\u0101s \nqu\u0101sdam palm\u0101s dactylifer\u0101s esse comperi\u014d. 207. Ali\u014d di\u0113 optimum \nrepper\u012b in mang\u0101 arbore terebinthum, cr\u0113did\u012bque m\u0113 hinc satis \nhab\u0113re posse, tum stuppae, tum terebinth\u012b aut r\u0113s\u012bnae. Pl\u016br\u0113s \nfr\u016bct\u016bs collig\u014d vix exort\u014d s\u014dle, postquam ante l\u016bcem ad hort\u014ds \npedibus incess\u012b. S\u012b quand\u014d \u2e24fabr\u012blem propter operam\u2e25 valid\u0101 \nnerv\u014drum exercit\u0101ti\u014dne opus sit, id aut ante s\u014dlem perfici\u014d, aut \nsub st\u0113ll\u012bs l\u016bnaeve l\u016bce, taed\u012bs aliquand\u014d adj\u016btus. 208. Jam \npaul\u014d audentior factus, canem hab\u0113ns comitem,\u2014s\u012b \u016bsus ven\u012bret, \nsub arbore dormi\u0113bam h\u014dr\u012bs mer\u012bdi\u0101n\u012bs. \u0112 sop\u014dre experr\u0113ctus, \nappar\u014d traham, jung\u014d j\u016bmenta, ipse vehor in trah\u0101, hort\u014ds \np\u014dmer\u012bdi\u0101n\u014d tempore inv\u012bs\u014d. Tum fr\u016bct\u016bs inger\u014d, j\u016bment\u012bs ad \np\u0101scendum sol\u016bt\u012bs. S\u012b nimis vagentur, canis red\u016bcit. D\u0113mum \nj\u016bnct\u012bs iterum ad traham, d\u0113scend\u014d cum onere preti\u014ds\u014d. Nova mox \ningruit difficult\u0101s, quum n\u014dn sufficerent arcae pr\u014dtegend\u012bs \nth\u0113saur\u012bs. \n209. Tamen neutiquam sati\u0101ta est mea cupidit\u0101s. Ad coc\u014ds nuc\u0113s \nd\u0113metend\u0101s falculam illam m\u0113cum apport\u0101v\u012b; sc\u0101l\u0101s nov\u0101s ips\u012bs in \nhort\u012bs relinqu\u0113bam. Dum autem \u012bnfr\u0101 inc\u0113d\u014d, ananass\u0101s vide\u014d \nmult\u0101s, (m\u0101la p\u012bnea vulg\u014d n\u014ds voc\u0101mus): numquam ego ante\u0101 h\u0101s \nanimadvert\u012b. Jam intelleg\u014d et pl\u016brim\u0101s esse et maxim\u0101s, paene ex \nar\u0113n\u012bs cum cact\u012bs n\u0101scent\u0113s. \u016anam illic\u014d v\u012bnd\u0113mi\u0101v\u012b, nec \nabstinu\u012b qu\u012bn grande frustum com\u0113derim. 210. Mox nucem coc\u014drum \n\u2e24ab hum\u014d s\u016bmptam\u2e25 perforand\u014d experior num sicca sit. Paulum \nlactis exs\u016bg\u014d,\u2014dulce, spissum, n\u014dn c\u014dpi\u014dsum. Pl\u016br\u0113s h\u0101rum \ncollig\u014d reserv\u014dque seorsum. Tum applic\u0101t\u012bs sc\u0101l\u012bs, quicquid \nnucum vid\u0113b\u0101tur maximum, id d\u0113cerp\u014d, du\u014dsque faci\u014d acerv\u014ds. \nProper\u0113 domum rede\u014d cum ananass\u0101 ill\u0101 ac falcul\u0101, et, paulum \nrecre\u0101tus, in cymb\u0101 regred\u012b ad hort\u014ds vol\u014d. Attamen statum \naest\u016bs quum vide\u014d, et pr\u014dmontoria quae essent superanda, id v\u0113r\u014d \nn\u014dn ausus sum. 211. Tum subit c\u014dgit\u0101ti\u014d, quant\u014d melius foret, s\u012b \nscaph\u0101 possem report\u0101re; tanta erat c\u014dpia, tanta variet\u0101s \nfr\u016bctuum ocul\u014ds et mentem captantium. Bis trah\u0101 hort\u014ds inv\u012bsere \n\u016bn\u014d in di\u0113 facinus erat magnum: quantum trah\u0101 possem report\u0101re, \nqu\u012bnqui\u0113s id scapha port\u0101ret. Post aur\u014dram, cr\u0113d\u014d, l\u0113nis aura \nfav\u0113bit: maris \u2e24pl\u016br\u0113s per di\u0113s\u2e25 aequor fuerat und\u012bs expers. \n212. Jam dactyl\u014ds, ban\u0101n\u0101s, coc\u014ds nuc\u0113s, ananass\u0101s, \u016bv\u0101s, ad \nlibitum m\u0113 habit\u016brum sp\u0113r\u014d: nimia m\u0113 sp\u0113s et nimia cupidit\u0101s \nfest\u012bn\u0101vit. Cr\u0101stin\u014d di\u0113 \u2e24l\u0113n\u012b aurae\u2e25 v\u0113la scaphae perm\u012bs\u012b; illa \nper vitream \u014dcean\u012b superficiem cl\u0113mentissim\u014d m\u014dt\u016b d\u0113l\u0101bitur; mox \nultr\u0101 pr\u014dmontorium paul\u014d v\u0113l\u014dcius d\u0113vehor. D\u0113mum laetus ipsum \natting\u014d \u014dstium, et d\u0113tract\u014d v\u0113l\u014d, r\u0113m\u012bs ingredior r\u012bvum. 213. \nMulta avid\u012bs ocul\u012bs l\u016bstr\u0101v\u012b: quae acerv\u0101ta erant, ass\u016bmps\u012b: \npl\u016brima alia abripu\u012b. Sine mor\u0101 imp\u014dn\u014d omnia scaphae, et \nreciprocum iter c\u014dnor. Tum v\u0113r\u014d fort\u016bna s\u0113 vertit. St\u0101gnante \naur\u0101, v\u0113lum in\u016btile erat. R\u0113m\u012bs incumb\u014d, sed tardiuscul\u0113 moveor. \nNerv\u012bs content\u012bs, d\u0113fat\u012bg\u014d m\u0113met, aestu\u014ds\u0101 in h\u014dr\u0101. Tell\u016brem \nobserv\u0101ns, dubit\u014d anne pr\u014dgrediar, maxim\u0101 me\u0101 v\u012b. Cohorre\u014d, n\u0113 \nh\u0101c in parte pr\u014dflu\u0113ns sit maris, quae m\u0113 in ign\u014dt\u0101s aqu\u0101s \nrapiat. \u016an\u012b homin\u012b cert\u0113 nimia erat, nisi vent\u014d mar\u012bque favente, \nhujus scaphae moder\u0101ti\u014d. Igitur d\u0113ficior fortit\u016bdine, et \nreflect\u014d scapham in palm\u0113tum, qu\u014d tandem perv\u0113nisse gaude\u014d, \nvald\u0113 d\u0113fessus. 214. Ego v\u0113r\u014d angor anim\u012b, qu\u014d pact\u014d red\u016bc\u012b \npossit scapha. R\u0113 amplius perp\u0113ns\u0101, cr\u0113d\u014d numquam m\u0113 aus\u016brum eam \nmar\u012b committere iterum. Tunc maestissim\u0113 s\u014dlit\u016bdinem meam \nconquer\u0113ns, opt\u0101bam ut iterum puer ille Maurus, qu\u014dcum ex \nMaur\u012bt\u0101ni\u0101 auf\u016bg\u012b, socius mihi n\u0101v\u0101lis foret. Sed pr\u014dtinus m\u0113 \nc\u014dnscientia obj\u016brgat, quod propter servit\u016btem ejus, fortasse \nnecess\u0101riam, ego numm\u014ds acc\u0113perim: itaque ingem\u0113ns, \u014ds in \nmanibus recondid\u012b. 215. Exinde tamquam in somni\u012bs hilarem aud\u012bv\u012b \nv\u014dcem, Rebil\u012b bebile lib\u012b bil\u012b \u014c! psittacus autem in humer\u014d me\u014d \nc\u014dns\u012bd\u0113bat. Is quidem r\u014dstr\u014d ac capitis pl\u016bm\u0101 gen\u0101s me\u0101s \nd\u0113mulc\u0113bat, ac v\u014dc\u0113s profund\u0113bat c\u0101rissim\u0101s. S\u0101n\u0113 tang\u0113bar. Quia \nsine comite me\u014d pr\u014dcesseram, ille ad hort\u014ds \u2e24m\u0113 anqu\u012br\u0113ns\u2e25 \n\u0101vol\u0101verat. Vol\u0101sse eum, minus acc\u016br\u0101t\u0113 d\u012bx\u012b; quippe manc\u0101 \netiamnum penn\u0101, inter vol\u0101tum atque obl\u012bquum saltum pr\u014dc\u0113d\u0113bat. \n216. Tum repl\u0113t\u0101 fiscell\u0101, experior quantum possim humer\u012bs \nsufferre inc\u0113d\u0113ns. Modicum banan\u0101rum et dactyl\u014drum onus ass\u016bm\u014d: \nv\u0113scor quantum libet, bib\u014d \u0113 r\u012bvul\u014d, et, relict\u0101 scaph\u0101, ascend\u014d \nvallem. Pedibus jam sicc\u012bs, (nam aqu\u0101 mar\u012bn\u0101 immers\u012b erant) sub \numbr\u0101 citr\u012b per ferv\u014dr\u0113s maxim\u014ds recondor, dormi\u014dque paulum; \nd\u0113mum n\u014dtum per tr\u0101mitem \u0113v\u0101d\u014d, maestusque assequor cavern\u0101s. \n217. Ex quant\u0101 calamit\u0101te quam angust\u014d discr\u012bmine eff\u016bgissem, \nper meam tempest\u0101tum imper\u012btiam, pr\u014drsus nesci\u0113bam: nam, tr\u012bdu\u014d \npost, turb\u014d furi\u014dsus vent\u014drum t\u014dtum caelum pervertit cietque \nintimum mare. In cavern\u012bs lib\u0113ns m\u0113 recond\u014d. Tum memin\u012b Kalend\u0101s \nSeptembr\u0113s immin\u0113re, qu\u014d in di\u0113 n\u0101vis fr\u0101cta est. Ann\u014d superi\u014dre \neg\u0113nus eram, inops, sp\u0113 d\u0113stit\u016btus: nunc opum mult\u0101rum sum \ndominus et praecl\u0101r\u014d fruor procell\u0101rum profugi\u014d. Equidem libr\u012bs \nlegend\u012bs et calam\u012b \u016bs\u016b pet\u014d variet\u0101tem neg\u014dti\u012b. Quae f\u0113c\u012b, n\u014dn \nlibet h\u012bc acc\u016br\u0101tius n\u0101rr\u0101re; sed libr\u014d ill\u014d math\u0113matic\u014d \nadj\u016btus, ded\u012b operam ut fund\u0101menta rati\u014dn\u0113sque math\u0113matic\u0101s \nsolidius prob\u0101rem. 218. Ut pr\u012bmum cr\u0113d\u014d saev\u0101s praeter\u012bsse \nprocell\u0101s, d\u0113cern\u014d in domesticum hortum incumbere. Diosc\u014dre\u0101s \ncirc\u0101 qu\u012bnqu\u0101gint\u0101 praepar\u0101veram, r\u0101d\u012bcibus circumc\u012bs\u012bs: item \nseptemdecim manioc\u0101s tract\u0101veram pariter: h\u0101s omn\u0113s in trah\u0101 \nreport\u0101t\u0101s r\u012bte c\u014dns\u0113v\u012b: mox humum d\u0113 nov\u014d \u2e24\u0101 fl\u016bminis \u014dsti\u014d \nconvectam\u2e25 addid\u012b, quia d\u0113 manioc\u0101 prius n\u014dn c\u014dgit\u0101veram. 219. \nMacac\u014ds v\u012bd\u012b fr\u016bctibus me\u012bs \u012bnsidi\u0101r\u012b, item \u2e24nesci\u014d quae \n\u012bnsecta\u2e25 aliquot h\u014drum corr\u016bperat. N\u014dl\u014d d\u0113 cib\u0101ri\u012bs \u0101nxius esse: \nalia multa opera c\u016bram v\u012br\u0113sque me\u0101s \u0101vocant. Cr\u0113d\u014d, quantum \nsine nimi\u014d lab\u014dre possim convehere, tantum convehendum; nam \nnesci\u014d utrum, seu r\u014db\u012bgine seu \u012bnsect\u012bs s\u012bve avibus aut macac\u012bs, \nmaxima pars r\u0113rum coacerv\u0101t\u0101rum sit perit\u016bra. Itaque r\u0113s ed\u016bl\u0113s \navid\u0113 reposu\u012b; porr\u014d ali\u0101s r\u0113s, ut ricinum,\u2014\u0113 qu\u014d facilius oleum \nextr\u016bx\u012b propter fabr\u012bl\u0113s \u016bs\u016bs quam ex ali\u0101 qu\u0101piam r\u0113. 220. Sed \narcae locul\u012bque ad r\u0113s asservand\u0101s n\u014dn suffici\u0113bant. Quidquid \nhab\u0113bam \u014dll\u0101rum aut lag\u0113n\u0101rum, adhibu\u012b ananass\u012bs, persic\u012bs m\u0101l\u012bs \nali\u012bsque fr\u016bctibus c\u014dnservand\u012bs. Ah\u0113num maximum ole\u014d ricin\u012b \nspurcum erat; nam quamquam ar\u0113n\u0101 \u0113mund\u0101veram, man\u0113bat qu\u012bdam \nodor et nauseam cre\u0101bat. Nova v\u0101sa fingere vol\u0113bam, imm\u014d magna, \nquae ut apud Maur\u014ds, d\u014dli\u014drum vicem sustin\u0113rent. 221. Pr\u012bma mea \nexper\u012bmenta vald\u0113 rudia erant. D\u0113 f\u014drm\u0101 inc\u016bri\u014dsus, argillam \ns\u014dle sicc\u0101re et concoquere c\u014dnor, s\u012b massam aliquam possim satis \nc\u014dnsolid\u0101re. Later\u0113s potius quam \u014dll\u0101s c\u014dnfici\u0113bam: cito autem \nagn\u014dv\u012b, rem h\u0101c vi\u0101 n\u014dn pr\u014dc\u0113dere. Coct\u012bs lateribus sine dubi\u014d \nerat opus, ad furnum c\u014dnstituendum; dein igne, n\u014dn s\u014dle, coct\u014ds \nlater\u0113s velim. 222. Herb\u0101s in s\u014dle sicc\u0101t\u0101s pr\u014d str\u0101mine cr\u016bd\u012bs \nlateribus intertex\u014d, argill\u0101 pr\u012bm\u014d sub\u0101ct\u0101: s\u012bc faci\u014d struem. \nSt\u012bpit\u0113s virid\u0113s cum sicc\u014d lign\u014d mixt\u014ds interp\u014dn\u014d atque comp\u014dn\u014d: \nmox subjici\u014d ignem. M\u0101teri\u0113 renov\u0101t\u0101 lentum cal\u014drem per t\u014dtum \ndiem sustent\u014d: poster\u014d di\u0113 (quoniam n\u014dn vid\u0113b\u0101tur ignis \nsufficere) violentius incend\u014d: jamque later\u0113s bene coct\u012b erant \net solid\u012b. Mer\u014d lut\u014d et lateribus ill\u012bs (sine gyps\u014d, quod ex \nr\u016bpe calc\u0101ri\u0101 potuissem comb\u016brend\u014d c\u014dnficere) furnum c\u014dnstr\u016bx\u012b. \n223. Omitt\u014d n\u0101rr\u0101re, qu\u014d pact\u014d in exper\u012bmentum pr\u012bm\u014d f\u0113cerim \n\u014dll\u0101s. C\u0113terum expl\u014dr\u0101t\u014d, posse m\u0113 plumb\u014d liquefact\u014d vitream \nquondam faciem superp\u014dnere, id quod propter munditiam concup\u012bv\u012b, \noptimum cr\u0113did\u012b, quam maxim\u0113 quadr\u0101ta fingere ingentia v\u0101sa; \nquoniam haec f\u014drma omnium esset facillima. Pl\u016bra h\u014drum, fateor, \npraeter aciem r\u012bm\u0101s \u0113g\u0113runt; sed r\u0113s solid\u0101s, n\u014dn liquid\u0101s, \nrecond\u0113bam; itaque me\u012bs \u016bsibus aliqu\u0101tenus servi\u0113bant. \n224. C\u0113terum ut t\u0113l\u014drum artem prob\u0113 exerc\u0113rem, intim\u014d in port\u016b \nclipeum quendam ingentem, velut m\u0113tam scopumve, \u0113r\u0113x\u012b. Comp\u0101g\u0113s \nerat ex assul\u012bs: v\u0113l\u014drum praet\u0113ns\u012bs lacini\u012bs, in medi\u014d (pr\u014d \ntaur\u012bn\u014d, quem vocant, ocul\u014d) pullum l\u0101nam aff\u012bx\u012b. \u016anamquamque \nignipult\u0101rum su\u0101 in vice exerc\u0113bam, aliquand\u014d maj\u014dribus \nglandibus, aliquand\u014d aut ol\u014dr\u012bn\u012bs aut minim\u012bs: sed plumbum omne \nd\u012bligenter recoll\u0113g\u012b, quantum poteram: spatia quoque s\u0113dul\u014d \nnot\u0101v\u012b, ut in coll\u012bneand\u014d per\u012btior fierem. Nisi m\u0113 aliqu\u014d mod\u014d \naut exerc\u0113rem aut oblect\u0101rem, maestitia m\u0113 incessit; etenim n\u014dn \njam lab\u014dribus fat\u012bg\u0101bar. 225. Sed multus eram tunc temporis in \ncoquend\u014d et condiend\u014d, n\u0113 fr\u016bct\u016bs per\u012brent pl\u016br\u0113s. \u014cll\u0101s \nEur\u014dpae\u0101s aliquot hab\u0113bam, sed opercul\u012bs eg\u0113bam, quae \u0101era \nexcl\u016bderent. \u0112 mang\u012bs r\u0113s\u012bnam quandam \u0113licu\u012b, qu\u0101 velut pice \noblinerem v\u0113l\u014drum lacini\u0101s. Hae, opercul\u012bs circumdatae, satis \nbene concl\u016bd\u0113bant \u014dll\u0101s; at r\u0113s\u012bnam d\u0113 nov\u014d superl\u0113v\u012b. 226. \nObl\u012btus sum quaedam d\u0113 \u0113ject\u0101ment\u012bs maris n\u0101rr\u0101re. \u016an\u014d in d\u014dli\u014d \npl\u016bra inv\u0113n\u012b \u014drn\u0101menta, praesertim specilla ac vitre\u0101s bull\u0101s. \nSpecill\u014drum \u014drae d\u0113tr\u012bmentum tul\u0113runt; sed bullae erant \nincolum\u0113s. Tr\u0113s item fascicul\u014ds inv\u0113n\u012b, discol\u014drum vestium \npl\u0113n\u014ds. Postquam aperu\u012b, sub umbr\u0101 exp\u014dnend\u0101s d\u0113cern\u014d. N\u014dn \nintegra fuit col\u014drum pulchrit\u016bd\u014d, necn\u014dn pl\u016br\u0113s vestium quasi \nrig\u0113sc\u0113bant. Omn\u0113s in cavern\u012bs reposu\u012b, s\u012b forte posth\u0101c \u016btil\u0113s \nfierent. Bull\u0101s autem pl\u016brim\u0101s, resticul\u012bs, s\u012bve f\u012bl\u012bs \nconj\u016bnct\u014ds, super j\u016bment\u014drum cerv\u012bcibus \u014drnand\u012b caus\u0101 suspend\u012b. \nCAPUT (IX.) N\u014cNUM. \n227. T\u0101l\u0113s inter c\u016br\u0101s exerc\u0113bar, quand\u014d nova r\u0113s m\u0113 vehementer \nexcit\u0101vit, Oct\u014dbr\u012b m\u0113nse. Qu\u014ddam m\u0101ne, dum eram in cul\u012bn\u0101, mare \nversus aspici\u0113ns, repente vide\u014d n\u0101vigium, nigr\u012bs hominibus \npl\u0113num, quod ad portum meum vid\u0113b\u0101tur tendere. Haesit\u014d exanimis, \nneque aude\u014d in arm\u0101ment\u0101rium excurrere, n\u0113 cernar; metu\u014dque n\u0113 \nanimadvertant aut r\u0113tia mea aut tr\u0101mitem. Appellunt sub caerule\u0101 \nr\u016bpe, extrahuntque capt\u012bvum, cui bracchia post tergum erant \nretorta. Dum obstup\u0113sc\u014d contempl\u0101ns, subit\u014d in n\u0101vigium redeunt \ncum capt\u012bv\u014d et r\u0113migant\u0113s abeunt. Extempl\u014d alterum vide\u014d \nn\u0101vigium, quod pr\u014dmontorium caeruleae r\u016bpis studet exsuper\u0101re: \njam intelleg\u014d pri\u014dr\u0113s e\u014ddem tendere, n\u0113 \u0101 soci\u012bs su\u012bs \nd\u012bviderentur. 228. Ut pr\u012bmum \u0113v\u0101nu\u0113re, surg\u014d. Ignipultam \ncorripi\u014d bitubam, quae Helv\u0113tic\u012b m\u012blitis fuerat; qu\u0101 quidem h\u0101c \nin \u012bnsul\u0101 numquam \u016bsus eram, praeterquam in exercitand\u014d, quoti\u0113s \nin clipeum coll\u012bne\u0101rem. Quum paul\u014d gravior esset, furcam quandam \npr\u014d fulcr\u014d adhib\u0113bam: qu\u0101 in terram d\u0113f\u012bx\u0101, mult\u014d certius \njacul\u0101bar. Utrumque tubum nunc d\u012bligenter suffarci\u014d, hunc magn\u0101 \nglande, illum ol\u014dr\u012bn\u012bs; item p\u0101r pistol\u0101rum. V\u0113scor parc\u0113; \nplacentam in sin\u016b vestis recond\u014d. Acc\u012bnctus balte\u014d, gladium \ns\u016bm\u014d, pistol\u0101s, bitubam su\u0101 cum furc\u0101, item pr\u014dspeculum, quod d\u0113 \ncoll\u014d susp\u0113nsum ger\u0113bam f\u016bnicul\u014d crassi\u014dre, quia l\u014dr\u012bs d\u0113lic\u0101t\u012bs \nd\u0113fici\u0113bar. P\u0113rulam quoque capi\u014d, pulveris ac pilul\u014drum \nreposit\u014drium. Tum aliquoti\u0113s ad N\u016bmen Supr\u0113mum v\u014dta vel prec\u0113s \nattoll\u0113ns, \u0113gredior pr\u014dspect\u016brus. Canem ab\u0113g\u012b, qu\u012b m\u0113 comit\u0101r\u012b \nvoluit. 229. Ad speculam meam quant\u0101 poteram celerit\u0101te ascend\u014d. \nInde vide\u014d circiter v\u012bgint\u012b qu\u012bnque vir\u014ds cum du\u014dbus capt\u012bv\u012bs. \nIgnem jam accenderant: mox \u016bnum \u0113 capt\u012bv\u012bs n\u016bdum in ar\u0113n\u0101 \nextendunt, caput cl\u0101v\u0101 obterunt, et c\u014dnfestim membra discerpunt. \nCultr\u014ds n\u014dn cl\u0101r\u0113 dispex\u012b, sed (quod horr\u014drem simul ac nauseam \nmihi m\u014dvit) torrefact\u012bs membr\u012bs v\u0113scuntur. Dum facinus exsecror, \ncr\u0113d\u014d lic\u0113re mihi, s\u012b possim, omn\u0113s truc\u012bd\u0101re, qu\u012b hospitium \n\u012bnsulae meae tam foed\u0113 violent. Ego autem c\u014dns\u0113d\u012b imm\u014dtus et \ntamquam fascin\u0101tus. \n230. Repente alium vide\u014d capt\u012bvum praeter \u014dram maris fugere: \nhunc qu\u012bnque persequuntur summ\u014d \u0101rd\u014dre. Ille, coll\u0113s versus \ntend\u0113ns, p\u014dne r\u016bpem \u0113v\u0101n\u0113scit. Tum exsurg\u0113ns curr\u014d, cav\u0113ns tamen \nn\u0113 exanimis f\u012bam; tandem iterum fugit\u012bvum discern\u014d. Viam L\u016bn\u0101tam \nascendit; p\u014dne tr\u0113s vir\u012b sectantur, qu\u014drum pr\u012bmus cl\u0101vam habuit \nbellicam. Duo ill\u012b sagitt\u0101s. Fugit\u012bvum cr\u0113d\u014d \u0101 pr\u012bm\u014d sec\u016bt\u014dre \nv\u0113l\u014dcit\u0101te super\u0101r\u012b, tantummodo praeoccup\u0101sse cursum. Ego in \nfoss\u0101 qu\u0101dam late\u014d, d\u0113f\u012bg\u014dque furcam in sol\u014d. 231. Intelleg\u014d \nfugit\u012bvum n\u014dn posse \u0113v\u0101dere: etenim anh\u0113l\u0101bat graviter. \u0100 pr\u012bm\u014d \nsec\u016bt\u014dre preh\u0113nsus, ab ill\u012bs nec\u0101bitur; sed opperior dum prope \nveniant. Tranquillissim\u0113 coll\u012bne\u014d, dein ol\u014dr\u012bn\u012bs pilul\u012bs \njaculor. Illic\u014d pr\u014dstr\u0101tus cadit pr\u012bmus sec\u016btor. Saltat met\u016b \nfugit\u012bvus, frag\u014drem audi\u0113ns, sed nescit pr\u012bm\u014d quid acciderit. \nMox capite \u012bnflex\u014d respici\u0113ns, v\u012bdit hostem d\u0113jectum: tum ipse \nquoque subsistit, animam recipi\u0113ns. Secundus adh\u016bc currit: jam \nsagitt\u0101 arcu\u012b applic\u0101t\u0101 parat tr\u0101nsf\u012bgere fugit\u012bvum. Id m\u0113 \niterum accendit, nec tamen occ\u012bdere eum vol\u014d. Glande maj\u014dre ex \nalter\u014d tub\u014d cr\u016bra ejus pet\u014d, affl\u012bg\u014dque \u0101ct\u016btum. Qu\u012b tertius \naccurrit, du\u014ds soci\u014ds pr\u014dstr\u0101t\u014ds cern\u0113ns, aud\u012bt\u014dque frag\u014dre, \nsumm\u0101 celerit\u0101te retr\u014d c\u0113dit. Mox du\u014ds ali\u014ds qu\u012b p\u014dne \nsect\u0101bantur, hic vertit retr\u014d; itaque \u0113v\u0101nu\u0113re omn\u0113s. 232. Tum \negomet \u0113gredior. Fugit\u012bvus obstup\u0113sc\u0113bat etiam. Tandem accurrit, \net c\u014dram pr\u014dvol\u016btus, terram fronte tangit. Id erat pr\u014d \nvener\u0101ti\u014dne. Excit\u014d hunc, et, Anglic\u0113 loqu\u0113ns, pl\u0101n\u0113 tamquam \nintellegat, imper\u014d ut m\u0113cum veniat. Vulner\u0101t\u014ds vol\u014d inv\u012bsere. \nPosterior vol\u016bt\u0101b\u0101tur hum\u012b, nec potuit surgere; tamen ab arc\u016b \nejus aliquantum metu\u012b. Sed fugit\u012bvus circumsult\u0101ns arcum \u0113 man\u016b \nejus \u0113ripit: pr\u014dtinus corrept\u012b erat obl\u012bs\u016brus fauc\u0113s, nisi ego \n\u012br\u0101tissim\u0101 v\u014dce prohibuissem. \n233. Vulner\u0101tus ille stolid\u0113 adm\u012br\u0101tur: angor (cr\u0113d\u014d) vulneris \nmetum domuerat; nam per femur tr\u0101nsfossus est. Fugit\u012bvum juss\u012b \nbracchia vulner\u0101t\u012b manibus c\u014dnstringere, f\u016bnemque \u0113 locul\u012bs \npeti\u012b, fr\u016bstr\u0101. Sed f\u016bniculum illum coll\u014d d\u0113tr\u0101x\u012b, qu\u012b \npr\u014dspeculum meum sustin\u0113bat: hic pr\u014d compede suffici\u0113bat. Dein \nvulnere \u012bnspect\u014d, mappam \u0113 locul\u012bs vestis meae extractam \napplic\u014d, et linte\u012bs \u012bnfulae firmiter lig\u014d. 234. Tum fugit\u012bv\u014d \nimper\u0101v\u012b, ut m\u0113cum tollat virum et in proxim\u014d qu\u014ddam cav\u014d \nrep\u014dnat. N\u014dn reluct\u0101tur ille saucius: cr\u0113d\u014d eum, quum vulnera \nlig\u0101rem, intell\u0113xisse t\u0101le facinus n\u014dn inim\u012bc\u012b esse. Sed ad \npr\u012bmum sec\u016bt\u014drem convert\u0113ns m\u0113, mortuum esse cogn\u014dsc\u014d; fortasse \nin cor penetr\u0101verant pilulae. C\u014dnfestim fugit\u012bvum accers\u0113ns, \nrev\u012bs\u014d speculum. \u0112n autem! duo illa n\u0101vigia jam sunt in mar\u012b, \nabeuntque: id quod mihi erat gr\u0101tissimum. Cr\u0113did\u012b e\u014ds, \nperterrit\u014ds quasi m\u012br\u0101cul\u014d, auf\u016bgisse. 235. In r\u0113 tam nov\u0101 vix \nm\u0113 recollig\u014d; spatium c\u014dns\u012bderand\u012b cupi\u014d; sed fugit\u012bvus m\u0113 \nsuscitat, \u014dscul\u0101ns t\u0101l\u014ds me\u014ds. Equidem tum ejus d\u0113mulce\u014d gen\u0101s, \njube\u014dque m\u0113 sequ\u012b. D\u0113scend\u014d ad cavern\u0101s: vestem indu\u014d, cib\u014ds \napp\u014dn\u014d, ipse quoque v\u0113scor. Veste s\u0101n\u0113 ac cib\u014d gaudet, mox \niterum iterumque m\u0113 vener\u0101tur. 236. At ego traham par\u014d cum \ndu\u014dbus j\u016bment\u012bs. Quand\u014d gregem aspexit, vide\u014d quantum excit\u0113tur. \nImp\u014dn\u014d trahae lect\u012b vest\u012bmenta, lig\u014dnem ac p\u0101lam quandam. Arma \nmea, praeter gladium, exuor: tum cum fugit\u012bv\u014d ac cane ascend\u014d \nnovum meum tr\u0101mitem, j\u016bmenta d\u016bc\u0113ns. Longi\u014dre h\u014dc circuit\u016b \nregressus ad mortuum, incipi\u014d humum lig\u014dne aper\u012bre, ut corpus \nrecondam. Id v\u0113r\u014d fugit\u012bvus m\u0113 n\u014dn vult facere: s\u016bmit \nferr\u0101menta, operam str\u0113nu\u0113 perficit: tum mortuum hum\u014d obtegimus. \nCl\u0101vam ejus c\u016bri\u014dsus asserv\u0101v\u012b. 237. Exinde sine mor\u0101 sauci\u0101tum \nhominem in traham ass\u016bmptum report\u014d, et gest\u016b sign\u012bsque benign\u012bs \npermulce\u014d. Profect\u014d volu\u012b hominem s\u0101n\u0101re, nec ign\u0101rus eram \nquantum imped\u012bret s\u0101n\u0101ti\u014dn\u012b pavor et \u0101nxiet\u0101s. Qu\u0101r\u0113 quidquid \npotu\u012b exc\u014dgit\u0101re, f\u0113c\u012b, tamquam fr\u0101tr\u012b. Aquam libenter bibit, \nv\u0113sc\u012b n\u014dluit. Postquam vulnus summ\u0101 me\u0101 ope s\u0113dul\u014d c\u016br\u0101v\u012b, hunc \nrelinqu\u014d: dein fugit\u012bv\u012b man\u016bs par\u014d lig\u0101re, ut videam qu\u014d s\u0113 mod\u014d \ngest\u016brus sit. 238. Is autem, genibus pr\u014dcumb\u0113ns, summ\u0101 \nhumilit\u0101te man\u016bs offert, ut colligem, s\u012b velim. Id satis erat. \nEgo subr\u012bd\u0113ns f\u016bnem retrah\u014d: ille r\u016brsus gest\u016b d\u0113m\u014dnstrat, velle \ns\u0113 mihi serv\u012bre: atque ego accipi\u014d. Jube\u014d in ar\u0113n\u0101 c\u014dns\u012bdere. \nIpse s\u0113ricam umbellam, fast\u016bs caus\u0101, effer\u014d, et sub h\u0101c \ncompositus, in optim\u0101 me\u0101 sell\u0101 sed\u0113ns, d\u0113l\u012bber\u014d quid faciendum. \n239. Arbitror du\u014ds h\u014ds vir\u014ds pr\u014d serv\u012bs et pr\u014d am\u012bc\u012bs esse mihi \n\u0101 De\u014d dat\u014ds, s\u012b h\u014drum possim et vener\u0101ti\u014dnem et c\u0101rit\u0101tem \nconcili\u0101re. Utrumque argu\u014d per m\u0113 esse morte \u0113reptum; quoniam, \nille alter n\u0113 strangul\u0113tur, id per m\u0113 stetit. Utr\u012bque cr\u0113did\u012b \nnovam pr\u014drsus esse vim jact\u016bs igne\u012b. Igitur sp\u0113r\u0101bam mentibus \ne\u014drum posse m\u0113 domin\u0101r\u012b. D\u0113cern\u014d largam c\u0101rit\u0101tem majest\u0101te \ntemper\u0101tam adhib\u0113re. Pr\u014dtenus fugit\u012bv\u014d ind\u014d n\u014dmen \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d; \nalterum appell\u014d Sec\u016bt\u014drem. 240. Sed novus m\u0113 incessit timor, n\u0113 \n\u0112l\u0101psus, cymb\u0101 v\u012bs\u0101, \u0113v\u0101det r\u0113mig\u0101ns; qu\u0101r\u0113 r\u0113m\u014ds pr\u012bm\u014d \nrecondid\u012b. Porr\u014d, s\u012b dom\u014d s\u014dlus ab\u012brem, vinci\u0113bam \u0112l\u0101psum; sed, \ndomum reversus, n\u014dn solv\u012b modo, sed blandissim\u0113 alloqu\u0113bar, \nAnglic\u0101 lingu\u0101 pr\u014drsus garri\u0113ns. Optim\u014ds dabam cib\u014ds, socium \noperis ass\u016bm\u0113bam, industriam ejus collaud\u0101ns: multa docu\u012b, mox \nab e\u014d multa quoque didic\u012b. V\u012bd\u012b eum esse gr\u0101tum et s\u0113dul\u014d \noboed\u012bre. L\u0113n\u012b cum r\u012bs\u016b vinci\u0113bam eum; necn\u014dn ille r\u012bd\u0113bat, \nsaepius \u014dscul\u0101b\u0101tur man\u016bs me\u0101s. Sed ante n\u016bndin\u0101s terti\u0101s \npud\u0113bat m\u0113 vinc\u012bre, nec jam faci\u0113bam. 241. Jam qu\u014d magis amb\u014dbus \naug\u0113rem reverentiam me\u012b, spect\u0101culum jacul\u0101ti\u014dnis m\u0101chin\u0101tus \nsum. Du\u0101s tabul\u0101s ostent\u014d ligne\u0101s: d\u0113m\u014dnstr\u014d amb\u014ds esse l\u0113v\u0113s, \nsine p\u016bnct\u014d vel inc\u012bs\u016br\u0101. \u016anam p\u014dne alteram apposu\u012b, modic\u014d \ninterv\u0101ll\u014d; s\u012bc autem ut Sec\u016btor, quamv\u012bs claudus, aspiceret. \nDein \u0113 parv\u0101 pistol\u0101 \u0113mitt\u014d ignem. Gl\u0101ns, tr\u0101nsverber\u0101t\u0101 pri\u014dre \ntabul\u0101, d\u0113foditur in secundum. Igne ac d\u0113ton\u0101ti\u014dne territ\u012b \nejul\u0101bant amb\u014d: mox v\u012bs\u0101 glande, \u0112l\u0101psus pri\u014drem scr\u016bt\u0101tur \ntabulam, et m\u012br\u0101bundus Sec\u016bt\u014dr\u012b d\u0113m\u014dnstrat parvum, imm\u014d minimum, \nfor\u0101men. Nec alteruter aud\u0113bat pistolam tangere. Ipsam rem \nvolueram. Post paul\u014d \u0112l\u0101psum per pr\u014dspeculum meum aspect\u0101re \nf\u0113c\u012b; id quod cum adm\u012br\u0101ti\u014dne commovet. Pr\u014dc\u0113dente autem tempore \nh\u014drologium meum ostent\u0101v\u012b, apert\u012bs interi\u014dribus m\u0101chin\u0101ment\u012bs. \nT\u0101libus r\u0113bus cr\u0113d\u0113bam barbar\u014drum ment\u0113s sal\u016bbriter cap\u012b. 242. \nJam magnam faci\u014d jact\u016bram. Gn\u0101rus quantum barbar\u012bs noceant v\u012bna \n\u0101rdentia, \u0101nxius n\u0113 h\u012bs aliquand\u014d d\u0113pr\u0101v\u0101t\u012b sint atque effer\u0101t\u012b, \nquidquid hujus generis hab\u0113bam, De\u014d invoc\u0101t\u014d, eff\u016bd\u012b, praeter \n\u016bnam lagunculam, quam idcirc\u014d in arc\u0101n\u012bs reposu\u012b, s\u012b forte pr\u014d \nmedic\u012bn\u0101 aliquand\u014d foret \u016btilis. 243. N\u014dndum memor\u0101v\u012b, Sec\u016bt\u014drem \nbon\u012bs esse ind\u016btum sandali\u012bs, \u0112l\u0101ps\u012b ped\u0113s n\u016bd\u014ds fuisse. Uterque \npraec\u012bnct\u014drium ger\u0113bat, Sec\u016btor balteum quoque cum c\u014dr\u0233t\u014d \nsagitt\u0101ri\u014d. Sandalia illa \u0113 cortice erant plic\u0101ta; \u0112l\u0101psus \nautem, dum sedet dom\u012b \u014dti\u014dsus, \u0101 m\u0113 quidem v\u012bnctus, sandalia \npropter me\u014ds \u016bs\u016bs impr\u012bm\u012bs, dein propter su\u014ds, \u0113 me\u0101 vetere \nm\u0101teri\u0101 c\u014dnf\u0113cit. T\u0101lem virum c\u016br vinc\u012bre oport\u0113bat? 244. Ego \nr\u016brsum ill\u012b d\u014dn\u014d vestem versicol\u014drem, ex i\u012bs qu\u0101s ex mar\u012b \nrecuper\u0101veram. Is accipit gr\u0101tus. Post tr\u012bduum vide\u014d eum h\u0101c \nveste fulgentem: col\u014drum splendor, qu\u012b aliquantum erat \nimm\u016bt\u0101tus, integer redierat. Interrog\u014d eum Anglic\u0113, unde hoc \nm\u012br\u0101culum? R\u012bdet ille, laet\u0101turque, sed lingu\u0101 nequit explic\u0101re. \n245. Necn\u014dn om\u012bs\u012b n\u0101rr\u0101re, lacernam propter nocturnum praesertim \nfr\u012bgus utr\u012bque m\u0113 dedisse; id quod libentissim\u0113 acc\u0113p\u0113re. Etenim \nSec\u016btor, qu\u012b ambul\u0101re nequ\u012bbat, fr\u012bgus s\u012b quod erat, graviter \npersenti\u0113bat; qu\u0101r\u0113 acc\u016br\u0101tius eum pr\u014dteg\u0113bam; et s\u0101n\u0113 gr\u0101tus \nanim\u012b vid\u0113b\u0101tur. Ego autem mult\u012bs sign\u012bs doce\u014d, ill\u014ds inter s\u0113 \nam\u012bcissim\u014ds esse d\u0113b\u0113re. 246. Tandem \u0112l\u0101psum in cymb\u0101 m\u0113cum \ncolloc\u014d, post m\u0101t\u016bt\u012bnam pluviam. M\u0113nsis fortasse Febru\u0101rius \nerat, ser\u0113num caelum, mare tranquillum. Ad tertium r\u0113mig\u014d sinum, \nubi horrendum illud epulum v\u012bd\u012b. Tum subit animum, foed\u0101s \nreliqui\u0101s n\u014dn esse \u0101m\u014dt\u0101s: nec fall\u0113bar. Ips\u014d in loc\u014d ossa \ntruc\u012bd\u0101t\u012b vir\u012b alb\u0113sc\u0113bant. Carnis reliqui\u0101s aut av\u0113s aut \n\u012bnsectae abol\u0113verant; sed calv\u0101riam h\u016bm\u0101nam qu\u012bv\u012bs n\u014dverit: item \nsp\u012bnam dors\u012b atque alia. \u0112l\u0101psus, piet\u0101te (cr\u0113d\u014d) gent\u012blici\u0101 \nm\u014dtus, ar\u0113n\u0101 manibus corr\u0101s\u0101, omn\u0113s h\u0101s reliqui\u0101s quamv\u012bs \nmaer\u0113ns d\u0113fodit. Mox ad ali\u0101s r\u0113s convertimur. Arbor\u0113s ille \nmagn\u014d contempl\u0101tur gaudi\u014d, frutic\u0113sque expl\u014drat d\u012bligentissim\u0113, \nfolia multa asportat. 247. N\u0113 longus sim, ut pr\u012bmum verb\u012bs \nexplic\u0101re poterat, pl\u016brim\u014ds indic\u0101bat mihi fruticum atque \narborem \u016bs\u016bs: hinc et ole\u014d et f\u016bnibus cito abund\u0101bam. Ex humil\u012b \nqu\u014ddam rub\u014d oleum hic mihi extr\u0101xit, itaque n\u014dn jam c\u014dnfugiendum \nerat ad ricinum. Mox tria magn\u012b preti\u012b indic\u0101vit leg\u016bmina, inter \n\u016bmidi\u014dra convallis; pr\u012bmum, r\u0101pa maxima et optima, nostr\u0101tibus \nsolidi\u014dra et su\u0101vi\u014dra; deinde, quiddam \u0113 fab\u0101rum genere, grande \nac bonum s\u0101n\u0113. D\u0113 Aegypti\u014drum fab\u0101 aud\u012bv\u012b. Nesci\u014d an haec et \nilla c\u014dnsimil\u0113s fuerint. Tum genus quoddam, ut put\u0101bam, \ncucurbitae; sed f\u014drm\u0101 fer\u0113 cylindric\u0101, velut pulv\u012bnulum, col\u014dre \npurpure\u014d, optim\u0101 cucum\u012b praestantius. Poste\u0101 \u012bdem or\u0233zam d\u0113t\u0113xit \n\u016bmid\u012bs in loc\u012bs, qu\u014ds ego \u0113v\u012bt\u0101veram. Porr\u014d gossypium mihi \nret\u0113xit. Ex ali\u012bs r\u0113bus stupp\u0101s qu\u0101sdam vel vill\u014ds extr\u0101xit, \ncannab\u012b vel l\u012bn\u014d par\u0113s. \n248. Aliam quandam rem voluit \u0112l\u0101psus m\u0113 doc\u0113re, sed intellegere \nnequ\u012bbam. Grandi\u014dr\u0113s aliquot av\u0113s, qu\u0101s ego ph\u0101si\u0101n\u012bs rettul\u012b \ndum propius praeter volant, ille manibus plaud\u0113ns columb\u0101s et \ncapr\u0101s esse d\u012bcit. Pr\u012bm\u014d s\u012bc interpret\u0101tus sum, ut d\u012bceret h\u0101s \ned\u016bl\u0113s esse, ut carnem columb\u012bnam et capr\u012bnam. Poste\u0101 explic\u0101tum \nest, h\u0101s av\u0113s posse dom\u0101r\u012b et m\u0101nsu\u0113scere, ut capr\u0101s columb\u0101sque \nme\u0101s: d\u0113 qu\u014d s\u0113rius n\u0101rr\u0101b\u014d. 249. Itidem d\u0113 palm\u012bs multa ille m\u0113 \ndocuit. Equidem n\u014dveram ali\u0101s esse nucifer\u0101s, qu\u0101s coc\u014ds \nappell\u0101bam; ali\u0101s phoen\u012bc\u0113s, vel dactylifer\u0101s, n\u0101n\u0101s ill\u0101s \nquidem me\u0101 in \u012bnsul\u0101. Jam disc\u014d, tertium genus et funiferum esse \net saccharum praeb\u0113re; cary\u014dtum appell\u0101r\u012b audi\u014d. Mollissim\u012b \nf\u012bunt hinc rest\u0113s, tamquam l\u014dra optim\u0113 depsta, qu\u012b propter \ncapistra j\u016bment\u014drum aut cingula possunt adhib\u0113r\u012b, necn\u014dn propter \nbalte\u014ds. Attamen ex asper\u014d nucum vill\u014d r\u014dbusti\u014dr\u0113s contexuntur \nf\u016bn\u0113s, crassae teget\u0113s, sc\u014dpae rigidae. 250. Qu\u0101rtum d\u012bxit esse \noleiferum; id quod in Braz\u012bli\u0101 quoque audieram; anne pr\u014drsus \neadem arbor sit, nesci\u014d. Qu\u012bntum porr\u014d n\u014dbilissimum, r\u014dbore \npr\u014dc\u0113rissim\u014d et optim\u014d, cujus folia pr\u014d umbell\u0101 essent. D\u0113nique \nex tribus generibus ad minimum, oleum, v\u012bnum, saccharum, ab \u016bn\u014d \nc\u0113ram, ab ali\u014d far\u012bnam optimam, pr\u014dven\u012bre. Sed m\u0113 juv\u0101bat, \n\u016bnumquidque inde s\u016bmere, unde minim\u012b esset lab\u014dris. 251. Tam \ncito tot r\u0113s Anglic\u0113 \u0112l\u0101psus didicit, ut cr\u0113derem posse m\u0113 jam, \nh\u014dc ministr\u014d, scapham red\u016bcere. Equidem in hort\u014ds eum d\u0113d\u016bx\u012b, \nubi multa m\u0113 docuit: sed melius arbitr\u0101bar, ad red\u016bcendam \nscapham, Sec\u016bt\u014dris opper\u012br\u012b v\u012br\u0113s. 252. Ille ex vulnere \nconval\u0113sc\u0113bat, et summam mihi d\u0113m\u014dnstr\u0101bat reverentiam. Ut \npr\u012bmum sine per\u012bcul\u014d r\u0113pt\u0101re poterat, ad focum acc\u0113d\u0113bat, rem \ncul\u012bn\u0101riam observ\u0101bat, paul\u0101tim ipse coqu\u0113bat, et quae Anglic\u0113 \nd\u012bc\u0113bam, coepit intellegere, ets\u012b pauci\u014dra cum e\u014d loc\u016btus eram, \nquam eum \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d, qu\u012b mihi erat socius lab\u014drum. Gl\u0101ns plumbea \nsine dubi\u014d \u0113 cr\u016bre ejus exierat: nihil intus rem\u0101nsit, qu\u0101r\u0113 \nsimplicior erat ejus c\u016br\u0101ti\u014d, d\u014dnec solid\u0113 convaluit. \n253. Qu\u014ddam di\u0113 \u0112l\u0101psus vitre\u0101s ill\u0101s bull\u0101s capr\u012bs d\u0113trahit, \net, humillim\u0113 m\u0113 vener\u0101tus, me\u014d coll\u014d circump\u014dnit. Ego r\u012bd\u0113ns \nd\u014dlium e\u012b ostend\u014d, ubi pl\u016br\u0113s habe\u014d bull\u0101s; mox d\u0113tract\u0101s coll\u014d \nme\u014d capr\u012bs par\u014d reddere. Ille v\u0113r\u014d recl\u0101mat, obtest\u0101tur: tunc \u0113 \nd\u014dli\u014d aliqu\u0101s d\u0113l\u0113git, quae l\u016bcentissimae vid\u0113bantur; h\u0101s \nsignificat mihi conven\u012bre. Min\u014dr\u0113s qu\u0101sdam ac minus fulgent\u0113s \nsu\u014d coll\u014d suspendend\u0101s rogat. 254. Quamquam pr\u012bm\u014d irr\u012bd\u0113bam, mox \nvide\u014d rem n\u014dn esse contemnendam. N\u014dn barbar\u012b s\u014dlum, v\u0113rum omn\u0113s \nhomin\u0113s r\u0113gem suum vel imper\u0101t\u014drem \u012bnsignibus imperi\u012b decor\u0101tum \nvolunt. Majest\u0101t\u012b meae conveni\u0113bat, ut r\u0113gium aliquod \u012bnsigne \ngest\u0101rem. Itaque d\u0113mum h\u012bs bull\u012bs, qu\u0101s pr\u014d r\u0113gul\u014drum \u0100fr\u014drum \nl\u0113n\u014dcini\u014d imper\u0101veram, egomet r\u0113gium quiddam inesse op\u012bnor. 255. \nS\u012b autem in r\u0113gn\u014d me\u014d ad r\u0113s \u014drdinand\u0101s grad\u016bs qu\u014dsdam hon\u014dris \nc\u014dnstituam, \u0112l\u0101psus sine dubi\u014d summus minister r\u0113gius esse \nd\u0113beat, et secund\u0101ri\u012bs gemm\u012bs fulgere. Ingenium quoque ejus \nvers\u016btius esse et cap\u0101cius quam Sec\u016bt\u014dris cogn\u014dveram, ut erant \nh\u012b vir\u012b vald\u0113 dispar\u0113s. 256. \u0112l\u0101psus gracilis erat, pr\u014dc\u0113rus, \nampl\u0101 fronte, micantibus ocul\u012bs, vult\u016b vald\u0113 m\u014dbil\u012b, \u014dre autem \nsu\u0101vissim\u014d. Sec\u016btor humer\u012bs l\u0101tior erat, minus pr\u014dc\u0113rus, gen\u012bs \npl\u0113ni\u014dribus, vult\u016b n\u014dn mal\u014d ill\u014d quidem sed tardi\u014dre. Cr\u016bra, \nbracchia, crassi\u014dra quam \u0112l\u0101ps\u012b, qu\u012b quidem vix summ\u0101s su\u0101s \nv\u012br\u0113s attigerat. Hunc cr\u0113did\u012b tria et v\u012bgint\u012b ann\u014ds aet\u0101tis \nhab\u0113re, Sec\u016bt\u014drem tr\u012bgint\u0101 vel amplius. Ut, quae \u2e24me\u012b vic\u0101rius\u2e25 \n\u0112l\u0101psus jub\u0113ret, Sec\u016btor oboed\u012bret, pr\u014dfore cr\u0113did\u012b, s\u012b \u0112l\u0101psum \nquasi magistr\u0101t\u016bs \u012bnsignibus decor\u0101rem. Itaque mon\u012blia illa, \nmaj\u014dra et min\u014dra, mihi atque \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d comprob\u0101v\u012b. 257. Inter haec \nr\u0113 fabr\u012bl\u012b \u0112l\u0101psum exerce\u014d, \u016bsumque doce\u014d omnis meae \nsupellectilis. Jam intelleg\u0113bat omnia fer\u0113 quae d\u012bcerem, sed \nloqu\u012b vix c\u014dn\u0101b\u0101tur, praeter aliquot voc\u0101bula negand\u012b, \naffirmand\u012b, approband\u012b, interrogand\u012b. Artem ego ferr\u0101riam neque \nexercueram neque multum fortasse s\u014dlus potuissem: sed quum ille \nd\u0113 ferr\u0101ment\u012bs c\u016bri\u014dsum s\u0113 d\u0113m\u014dnstrat, nova m\u0113 ambiti\u014d capit, s\u012b \nforte, h\u012bs ministr\u012bs, ars quoque illa mihi serviat. Nunc explic\u014d \ntantum, per ignem et malleum rem c\u014dnfic\u012b. 258. Barbar\u014drum \nuterque contexend\u012bs v\u012bminibus, junc\u012bs, arundinibus, cann\u012bs, \nvald\u0113 excell\u0113bat. Quidquid hujus mod\u012b ego c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b, erat s\u0101n\u0113 \ninhabile. Jam v\u0113r\u014d ill\u012b magnam mihi vim qu\u0101l\u014drum, corbium, \nfisc\u014drum rapid\u0113 contexunt, \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d m\u0101teriem h\u0101rum r\u0113rum \ncomportante; necn\u014dn, quod praesertim mihi cord\u012b erat, id\u014dne\u0101s \nperficiunt calig\u0101s textil\u0113s. Ut aquam excl\u016bderent, r\u0113s n\u016bll\u012bus \nm\u014dment\u012b vid\u0113b\u0101tur, s\u012b lapidum ac sax\u014drum asperit\u0101t\u0113s, necn\u014dn \n\u012bnsect\u0101s d\u0113fenderent. 259. Sec\u016btor autem in r\u0113 coqu\u012bn\u0101ri\u0101 \nexcell\u0113bat. \u0112 coc\u014drum nucibus placent\u0101s d\u0113lic\u0101tissim\u0101s, item \nquasi fl\u014drem quandam lactis, faci\u0113bat. Pisc\u0113s, diosc\u014dre\u0101s, \nmanioc\u0113s, ban\u0101n\u0101s, pl\u016brim\u0101s nuc\u0113s ita cond\u012bt\u0101s pr\u014dfer\u0113bat, ut \nnihil supr\u0101: etenim pr\u014d cond\u012bment\u012bs hab\u0113bat ananass\u0101s, \nzingiberim, piper et alia ar\u014dmata, saccharum \u0113 palm\u012bs et oleum \nvel optimum. Mox, postquam inter silv\u0101s vag\u0101r\u012b potuit, av\u0113s \npl\u016brim\u0101s \u012bnsidi\u012bs capi\u0113bat; unde n\u016bll\u014d nitr\u0101t\u012b pulveris \ndispendi\u014d, su\u0101ve hab\u0113b\u0101mus epulum. Porr\u014d fruticem invenit, cujus \nfoli\u012bs in s\u014dle d\u0113sicc\u0101t\u012bs aquam asperg\u0113bat calefactam: h\u014drum j\u016bs \ntepidum, sacchar\u014d admixt\u014d, praesertim cum fl\u014dre coc\u012b lacte\u014d, \ngr\u0101tissimum fuit. P\u014dti\u014dnem foli\u0101ceam appell\u0101bam. 260. Saepius \nm\u0113cum d\u0113l\u012bber\u0101v\u012b, anne satis t\u016bt\u014d sec\u016br\u0113s penes h\u014ds vir\u014ds \nrelinquerem: vide\u014d tamen, s\u012b quid in h\u0101c r\u0113 sit per\u012bcul\u012b, id \nfortiter dissimuland\u014d optim\u0113 d\u0113fend\u012b. S\u012b susp\u012bci\u014dnem fassus er\u014d, \npr\u0101vum c\u014dnsilium ipse submon\u0113b\u014d. T\u0113la omnia \u0101mov\u0113re, quae \npossint esse let\u0101lia, pr\u014drsus n\u014dn possum. S\u012b (quod minim\u0113 est \nv\u0113r\u012b simile) amb\u014d homin\u0113s in m\u0113 conj\u016br\u0101bunt, fortasse vix poter\u014d \nserv\u0101r\u012b; nam igni\u0101ria mea t\u0113la surripient. Sed nisi conj\u016br\u0101bunt, \nalteruter mihi auxili\u0101bitur: nec cr\u0113d\u014d ali\u0113n\u0101r\u012b posse amb\u014drum \nanim\u014ds, dum majest\u0101tem ac vim meam benignit\u0101te temper\u014d. 261. H\u012bs \nr\u0113bus perp\u0113ns\u012bs, quia l\u016bsus corporeus mentem levat, l\u016bdum \ngladi\u0101t\u014drium d\u0113cern\u014d. Etenim s\u012b redeant barbar\u012b, s\u012b d\u0113pugn\u0101re \nc\u014dg\u0101mur, me\u014ds vir\u014ds velim totidem barbar\u012bs long\u0113 praest\u0101re; at \ns\u012b neque su\u0101s habeant sagitt\u0101s neque f\u016bsil\u012b plumb\u014d exerceantur \nneque gladi\u012bs bon\u012bs rem gerant, \u012bnferi\u014dr\u0113s barbar\u012bs f\u012bant. \nIgitur \u0112l\u0101psum pr\u014dtenus, Sec\u016bt\u014drem simul ac s\u0101nit\u0101s perm\u012bsit, \ngladi\u0101t\u014driam doce\u014d artem. \n262. V\u012bmine\u012bs quibusdam m\u016bn\u012bment\u012bs caput, humer\u014ds, cr\u016bra \npr\u014dtegimur, ut magn\u0101 v\u012b poss\u012bmus sine per\u012bcul\u014d caesim fer\u012bre; et \neff\u016bs\u014ds ex ictibus hab\u0113b\u0101mus r\u012bs\u016bs. Poste\u0101 l\u016bdum vari\u0101bam, n\u0113 \n\u016bll\u0101 rati\u014dne pugnand\u012b d\u0113ficerent. S\u0101n\u0113 ventrem, pectus, vultum \npr\u014dtegere, s\u012b hostis p\u016bnctim petat, long\u0113 difficilius est. \nSpiss\u0101 tegete ac l\u0101rv\u0101 r\u014dbust\u0101 arm\u0101t\u016bram concinn\u0101v\u012b; sed ips\u012b \nv\u012bminea sc\u016bta f\u0113c\u0113runt, quae, laev\u014d bracchi\u014d gest\u0101ta, ict\u016bs \nrepellerent. Vide\u014d tamen hanc l\u016bd\u012b f\u014drmam, quantumv\u012bs obt\u016bsum \ns\u016bm\u0101s pr\u014d gladi\u014d baculum, ocul\u012bs et ventr\u012b esse per\u012bcul\u014dsam. \nPsittacus autem r\u0113 gladi\u0101t\u014dri\u0101 abhorr\u0113bat c\u016bnct\u0101, mult\u014dque cum \nejul\u0101t\u016b absili\u0113bat. 263. Mox Sec\u016btor, qu\u012b suum retin\u0113bat arcum \natque aliquot sagitt\u0101s, penn\u012bs anatum ac ferre\u012bs cl\u0101v\u012bs vult \nsagitt\u0101s nov\u0101s fabric\u0101r\u012b. Ips\u012bus sagitt\u012bs mucr\u014dn\u0113s ex piscium \nossibus erant, nam ferr\u012b su\u0101 in gente exst\u0101bat nihil. Cl\u0101v\u014ds e\u014ds \nquotquot maxim\u0113 vid\u0113rentur id\u014dne\u012b, lib\u0113ns d\u014dn\u014d; is autem vald\u0113 \nper\u012btum s\u0113 ostendit, quum \u012bnsuper l\u012bmam et cultrum oper\u012b \ncommod\u014d. 264. At ego vel parvam catapultam magn\u014d arcu\u012b long\u0113 \nantep\u014dn\u0113bam, pig\u0113batque m\u0113 quod pessulum ejus tract\u014drium chart\u0101 \nd\u0113scr\u012bbere, n\u0113dum lign\u014d fingere, tam difficile vid\u0113r\u0113tur. Sed \ncalam\u012bs et chart\u0101 d\u0113signand\u014d meditor, experior, d\u014dnec pessulum \ncum t\u0101l\u014d su\u014d tandem r\u0113ct\u0113 exc\u014dgit\u0101verim. 265. Tum capr\u0101rum \ncornua, quae reserv\u0101veram, exqu\u012br\u014d, et id\u014dneum pr\u014dp\u014dn\u0113ns \nst\u012bpitem caed\u014d, sculp\u014d, terebr\u014d: d\u0113nique mollissim\u014d \u0113 lign\u014d, \nsatis magn\u0101 cum d\u012bligenti\u0101, rude et grande c\u014dnstitu\u014d exemplar: \nqu\u014d v\u012bs\u014d t\u014dtam rem intell\u0113x\u0113re. Itaque ips\u012bs opus rem\u012bs\u012b \n\u0113legantius perficiendum; nec sp\u0113 me\u0101 falsus eram, nam catapult\u0101s \nhaud spernend\u0101s post paul\u014d c\u014dnf\u0113c\u0113runt. Ego autem gland\u0113s \nid\u014dne\u0101s \u0113 plumb\u014d c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b, sed sp\u012bcul\u0101 av\u0113bam. \nCAPUT (X.) DECIMUM. \n266. Circiter id temporis statu\u012b scapham, s\u012b possem, red\u016bcere, \nn\u0113 v\u0113la pr\u014drsus corrumperentur. \u0112l\u0101psus autem jam satis \nintelleg\u0113bat, quid jub\u0113rem. Malleum, cl\u0101v\u014ds, serram parvam, \nargillam vitre\u0101riam,[V] ac\u016bs sarcin\u0101ri\u0101s, f\u016bnicul\u014ds, v\u0113l\u014drum \naliquot lacini\u0101s, in mulctr\u0101l\u012b composu\u012b: haec \u0112l\u0101psus portat. \nEgo cibum, p\u014dculum, cultellum, pistol\u0101s port\u014d. Fl\u016bmen convallis \nvad\u014d tr\u0101ns\u012bvimus, sax\u012bs adj\u016bt\u012b modic\u012bs, qu\u014drum ope cr\u0113d\u0113bam \npontem sine magn\u014d opere posse c\u014dnstru\u012b. S\u012bc brevi\u014dre curs\u016b ad \nscapham pertingimus. 267. Pr\u012bmum v\u0113la expand\u014d, \u012bnspici\u014d, tent\u014d: \ntribus in loc\u012bs vald\u0113 \u012bnfirma esse op\u012bnor. D\u0113not\u014d, ubi \nresarcienda sint: id \u0112l\u0101psus str\u0113nu\u0113 perficit. Intere\u0101 mulctr\u0101l\u012b \naquam pluvi\u0101lem mar\u012bnamque scaph\u0101 exhauri\u014d: fr\u016bct\u016bs in aqu\u0101 \nputr\u0113scent\u0113s vehementer \u0101versor: subtus inveni\u014d solida omnia, \nnec quidquam r\u012bm\u0101rum esse timendum. Fabr\u012b ope n\u014dn egent tabulae; \nitaque perfect\u012bs v\u0113l\u012bs ingredimur. 268. Aura, s\u012bcut \nexpect\u0101veram, adversa erat. R\u0113mig\u0101mus ex \u014dsti\u014d, dein exp\u0101ns\u012bs \nv\u0113l\u012bs, ad dextram excurrimus, gubernante \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d, id quod optim\u0113 \ncalluit: ego jube\u014d et v\u0113la reg\u014d. Ut pr\u012bmum d\u0113flectendum in \nterram op\u012bnor, excl\u0101m\u014d \u201cAd sinistram!\u201d et pr\u014dtinus torque\u014d v\u0113la. \nOboedit ille: scapha optim\u0113 convertitur: tunc praecipuus meus \nd\u0113cessit timor. Sine \u016bll\u014d per\u012bcul\u012b s\u0113ns\u016b pr\u012bmum illud \nexsuper\u0101mus pr\u014dmontorium, quamv\u012bs adversante vent\u014d, poste\u0101 \ncelerius profic\u012bscent\u0113s praevertimur, d\u0113nique l\u012btus intr\u0101 caut\u0113s \nlegimus usque ad portum meum, ubi in n\u0101v\u0101le scapham laetus \nrep\u014dn\u014d. 269. Ego autem \u0112l\u0101psum interrog\u014d, \u201cAnne bona sit \nscapha?\u201d Resp\u014dnsum exspect\u0101bam, \u201cS\u012bc, s\u012bc;\u201d vel \u201cBona, bona:\u201d \nsed adm\u012bror, quum ille cl\u0101r\u0113 ac d\u0113l\u012bber\u0101t\u0113 respondet, \u201cBona n\u014dn \nest; bonam faci\u0113mus posth\u0101c.\u201d Iterum interrog\u014d, C\u016br? Is v\u0113r\u014d \nquasi novam v\u014dcis facult\u0101tem exhauserit, nihil respondet nisi, \n\u201cS\u012bc.\u201d \n270. Quod cib\u014ds coll\u0113geram et s\u0113veram long\u0113 amplius quam quod \nmihimet, \u016bn\u012b vir\u014d, erat opus, s\u0101n\u0113 g\u0101v\u012bsus eram: sed quum \nSec\u016btor, injuss\u016b me\u014d, in agell\u014d me\u014d novam operam inciperet, \n\u012br\u0101cundius paul\u014d rati\u014dnem ejus re\u012b reposc\u014d. Is humillim\u0113 manibus \nac vult\u016b d\u0113prec\u0101ns, \u201cS\u012bc optim\u0113\u201d esse c\u014dnfirmat. Ego v\u0113r\u014d \ngaude\u014d, quod, tardior ingenior qu\u012b v\u012bsus erat, per s\u0113 possit \nbon\u0101s oper\u0101s exc\u014dgit\u0101re; nec di\u016b est, quum vide\u014d, in hortul\u014d eum \npariter atque in cul\u012bn\u0101 fore \u016btilem. J\u016bment\u012bs \u012bdem gaud\u0113bat; \ninde sp\u0113s mihi, fore ut ex d\u012bvers\u012bs famul\u014drum ingeni\u012bs \ncumul\u0101tior pr\u014dven\u012bret opera nostra. 271. Ut pr\u012bmum, s\u0101n\u0101t\u014d \ncr\u016bre, nat\u0101re ausus est, admodum gesti\u0113bat; nam propter tep\u014drem \nmaris, nigr\u012btae omn\u0113s natand\u012b sunt studi\u014dsissim\u012b. Equidem post \npr\u012bmum illum diem numquam in ipsum mare m\u0113 committ\u0113bam, n\u0113 intr\u0101 \ncaut\u0113s quidem; tanta m\u0113 timidit\u0101s in s\u014dlit\u016bdine inv\u0101sit: in \nport\u016b modo nat\u0101bam. Sed cum \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d etiam inter fr\u0101ct\u014ds fl\u016bct\u016bs \nam\u0101bam l\u016bdere; mox aqu\u0101, velut t\u0113l\u014d, inter natandum, av\u0113s \ngrall\u0101t\u014dri\u0101s pet\u0113b\u0101mus, qu\u014d in l\u016bd\u014d \u0101cerrimum s\u0113 Sec\u016btor \nostent\u0101bat. 272. Ole\u014d jam abund\u0101ns, s\u0101p\u014dnem facere volu\u012b; nec \npoteram Sec\u016bt\u014dr\u012b, quid vellem, explic\u0101re. Alg\u0101s v\u0113r\u0113 mar\u012bn\u0101s \npl\u016brium generum crem\u0101v\u012b: e\u0101rum ciner\u0113s ole\u014d admixt\u0101s igne \nlentissim\u014d percoqu\u0113bam, aqu\u0101 calidi\u014dre circumposit\u0101. Item \u0113 \nmang\u0101rum fr\u016bct\u016b quum spissum quandam extr\u0101xissem r\u0113s\u012bnam, hanc \nole\u014d commixtam itidem d\u0113cox\u012b. Post aliquot exper\u012bmenta, du\u014dbus \nmod\u012bs s\u0101p\u014dnem n\u014dn ita malum c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b: tum omnem rem perspexit \nSec\u016btor, m\u0113que in s\u0101p\u014dne comp\u014dnend\u014d facile super\u0101vit. \u016asum autem \ns\u0101p\u014dnis \u0113docu\u012b, atque exinde in c\u016brand\u014d corpore \u016bt\u0113bar. 273. \nR\u012bde\u014d s\u0101n\u0113, quum vide\u014d quant\u0101 ille superbi\u0101 aur\u012bgam s\u0113 \u0113 trah\u0101 \njactet, in v\u012blissim\u014d qu\u014ddam scamill\u014d sed\u0113ns, tribus j\u016bment\u012bs \nvectus. C\u0113terum omnia quae imper\u0101verim, r\u0113ct\u0113 perficit, \u016bs\u016bque \ntrahae impetr\u0101t\u014d, mult\u0101s reportat r\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s cum ips\u0101rum hum\u014d: h\u0101s \nd\u012bvidit aut circumc\u012bdit, fimum c\u016br\u0101tissim\u0113 ingerit; d\u0113mum satis \nmagn\u014d cum lab\u014dre amplum facit s\u0113min\u0101rium. Tum m\u0113cum argu\u014d, s\u012b \nnimium praepar\u0113tur cib\u012b, id minim\u0113 culpandum, quoniam tr\u0113s vir\u012b \nvesc\u012b \u0113 me\u014d oport\u0113bit: item industri\u014ds homin\u0113s n\u014dn \u0113 su\u012bs \nlab\u014dribus effugit\u016br\u014ds; jam pr\u014d patri\u0101 adopt\u0101sse hanc \u012bnsulam. \n274. \u0112l\u0101psus quoque su\u0101s inveni\u0113bat oper\u0101s: atque ego, dum \nuterque mihi, quidquid jubeam, oboediat, gaude\u014d quod l\u012bberrim\u0101 \n\u016btuntur d\u012bligenti\u0101, neque socordiae sint amant\u0113s. Tamen n\u0113 \nsubit\u014d d\u0113fess\u012b concidant, saepius exc\u014dgit\u0101bam, aut l\u016bd\u014d aut \nvariet\u0101te, lev\u0101menta lab\u014dris. R\u0113migand\u014d, piscand\u014d, gladi\u0101t\u014dri\u012bs \nl\u016bd\u012bs, natand\u014d quot\u012bdi\u0113, t\u0113l\u012bs et catapult\u0101, \u014drdin\u0101rium opus \nvari\u0101b\u0101tur. 275. Tunc autem texend\u014d vel plicand\u014d praesertim \nexerc\u0113bat s\u0113 \u0112l\u0101psus, nec quidnam c\u014dnficeret, satis \nintelleg\u0113bam. Ex cann\u012bs diffiss\u012bs quasi tabul\u0101s complicat art\u0113 \nr\u0113ticul\u0101t\u0101s, junc\u014dsque s\u012bc internectit, ut for\u0101mina concl\u016bdat. \nLevissimum s\u0101n\u0113 erat opus, quamquam firmum. Artem ejus adm\u012br\u0101ns, \nquaer\u014d tandem, qu\u014drsum haec spectent. Respondet, \u201cPropter \nscapham, sed ferr\u014d quoque opus esse.\u201d 276. Amplius interrogant\u012b, \nt\u014dtum suum pr\u014dpositum explicat, partim verb\u012bs, partim rem ipsam \nd\u0113m\u014dnstrand\u014d. Ait, scapham in fluvi\u014d esse n\u014dn semper malam, in \nmar\u012b cum v\u0113l\u014d pl\u0113nam per\u012bcul\u012b; quippe quae neque fl\u016bct\u016bs neque \nvim vent\u012b toler\u0101re possit. Duplex opus scaphae esse addendum. N\u0113 \nfl\u016bctus \u0101 fronte supercurr\u0113ret, \u0113rigendam tamquam l\u014dr\u012bcam in \npr\u014dr\u0101, dein praeter latera quasi \u0101l\u0101s expandend\u0101s, sed h\u0101s \nfirmand\u0101s ferr\u014d. Id mihi esse c\u016brandum, s\u0113 par\u0101t\u016brum c\u0113tera. \n277. Adm\u012br\u0101bar hominis ingenium, nec tamen pr\u014dram praealtam \napprob\u0101bam; ille v\u0113r\u014d negat sine h\u012bs r\u0113bus v\u0113la pr\u014dfore. Mox \ningem\u014d, nescius qu\u0101r\u0113, qu\u014drsum, quand\u014d, in magnum mare sim \ninv\u0101s\u016brus. Sed m\u0113met obj\u016brg\u014d: C\u016br tandem, priusquam h\u012b vir\u012b ad \nt\u0113 v\u0113n\u0113runt, t\u016b tantopere hanc scapham f\u014dvist\u012b? Agn\u014dsc\u014d \noport\u0113re, in c\u0101s\u016bs necess\u0101ri\u0113 incertissim\u014ds, scapham quam \nr\u014dbustissim\u0113 reconcinn\u0101re, v\u0113l\u012bs id\u014dneam. Itaque d\u0113 ferr\u0101ri\u0101 r\u0113 \netiam atque etiam commeditor, modo chart\u0101 d\u0113l\u012bne\u0101ns, modo ipsa \nferr\u0101menta collig\u0113ns, compar\u0101ns, ex\u0101min\u0101ns. \n278. Inter haec libet cum \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d capr\u014drum scopul\u014ds v\u012bsit\u0101re. \nEquidem semper timidus fueram, quoti\u0113s ibi forem, (nam inter \nsaxa pr\u014dspicere nequ\u012bbam) n\u0113 novum quid atque \u012bnf\u0113stum lat\u0113ns \nsubit\u014d ingrueret. Fateor m\u0113, dum s\u014dlus man\u0113bam, timidi\u014drem in \ndi\u0113s factum. Minus minusque m\u0113 in d\u0113ns\u014ds art\u014dsque loc\u014ds vol\u0113bam \ncommittere; sed aperta am\u0101bam spatia, ubi c\u016bncta long\u0113 possem \npr\u014dspect\u0101re: idcirc\u014d quoque minus inter saxa capr\u012bna perv\u0101seram. \nNunc cum \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d forti\u014drem m\u0113 ger\u0113ns, cum pistol\u012bs pr\u014dde\u014d: ille \ns\u012bcam ger\u0113bat: expl\u014dr\u0101re, n\u014dn v\u0113n\u0101r\u012b vol\u014d. Ascendimus tr\u0101mitem; \nverna pr\u0101ta fl\u014dribus su\u0101veolentia praeterimus; loc\u014ds n\u014dt\u014ds \nrecogn\u014dsc\u014d. Mox longius penetr\u0101ns, ab excelsi\u014dre qu\u014ddam sax\u014d \nrepente novum gr\u0101tissimumque vide\u014d pr\u014dspectum. Lacus \nlongissimus, quasi amnis flexu\u014dsus, per pl\u016bra m\u012bllia passuum in \nfronte jac\u0113bat. Aqu\u0101s qu\u0101sdam v\u012bc\u012bn\u0101s ante\u0101 not\u0101veram; jam \nagn\u014dsc\u014d aut membra hujus fuisse lac\u016bs, aut ejus quasi cistern\u0101s \nn\u0101t\u016br\u0101l\u0113s. In \u014dr\u0101 erant herbae frutic\u0113sque viridissim\u012b, \n\u016bberrimum m\u012btibus b\u0113sti\u012bs praebent\u0113s alimentum. Circ\u0101 surg\u0113bant \naccl\u012bv\u0113s scopul\u012b, quibus d\u0113current\u0113s sine numer\u014d r\u012bvul\u012b lacum \nrepl\u0113bant. Maxima v\u012bs h\u012bc vers\u0101b\u0101tur aqu\u0101tilium alitum tamquam \nsu\u0101 in dom\u014d. 279. Dum haec m\u0113 vald\u0113 excitant, \u0112l\u0101psus \nantilop\u0101rum gregem v\u012bderat, magn\u0101 cum d\u0113lect\u0101ti\u014dne: mihi in \npal\u016bd\u0113s aspicient\u012b illud jam succurrit, fortasse h\u0101s ejus esse \ngeneris quod pal\u016bstre appell\u0101tur. Sed n\u014dl\u014d e\u0101s perturb\u0101re, atque \nad mare potius d\u016bc\u014d, ubi juga montium altius assurg\u0113bant. Lacum \n\u0101 septentri\u014dnibus circume\u014d, inde perg\u0113ns mare versus. Tandem, \nper scopul\u014ds \u0113n\u012bs\u012b, mare n\u014dn long\u0113 vid\u0113mus, sed d\u0113sc\u0113ns\u016b \nasperrim\u014d \u0101 n\u014db\u012bs d\u012bv\u012bsum. Subjac\u0113bat \u014dra terrae, longula, \npalm\u012bs praesertim abund\u0101ns; sed r\u016bp\u0113s ulterius ips\u0101s in und\u0101s \nvid\u0113bantur s\u0113 praecipit\u0101re. N\u016bllum s\u0101n\u0113 portum h\u0101c in \u014dr\u0101 \ndispici\u014d, quod orientem versus pat\u0113bat. Circumvers\u012b, sed mare \nd\u0113spicient\u0113s, red\u012bmus domum. 280. Ego v\u0113r\u014d, quamquam aug\u0113sc\u0113bant \nimbr\u0113s, oper\u0101 ferr\u0101ri\u0101 identidem exerc\u0113bar. Inc\u016bdem, foll\u0113s, \nmalle\u014ds, forcip\u0113s, \u0113 r\u0113 torment\u0101ri\u0101 n\u0101vis nostrae hab\u0113bam. \nForn\u0101cem d\u0113 nov\u014d, famul\u012bs me\u012bs adj\u016btus, d\u0113cr\u0113v\u012b exstruere, \nlatericiam m\u0101teriem residuam adhib\u0113ns. Carb\u014dn\u0113s \u0113 lign\u014d par\u0101re \nuterque prob\u0113 calluit. Mox, \u0112l\u0101ps\u014d foll\u0113s exercente, ego ac \nSec\u016btor ferreol\u014ds calefact\u014ds tund\u0113b\u0101mus. Etiam calidum fr\u012bgid\u014d \npertundere doc\u0113bam, dum Sec\u016btor forcipem tenet. S\u012bc virgae \nferreae, qu\u0101l\u0113s propter scapham postul\u0101bat \u0112l\u0101psus perficiuntur. \nAliud post aliud paul\u0101tim c\u014dn\u0101mur; pr\u012bm\u014d multimod\u012bs cl\u0101v\u014ds \nferre\u014ds m\u016bt\u0101b\u0101mus,\u2014in h\u0101m\u014ds, in \u0101nul\u014ds, mox in sp\u012bc\u0101t\u014ds \u0101nul\u014ds; \ns\u012bc pl\u016br\u0113s in f\u014drm\u0101s disc\u0113b\u0101mus ferrum fingere. Tandem ill\u012b, r\u0113 \nt\u014dt\u0101 perspect\u0101, significant, me\u014d lab\u014dre n\u014dn jam esse opus: s\u0113 \nhujus artifici\u012b esse compot\u0113s. 281. Inter haec, magn\u014d sum dol\u014dre \naffl\u012bctus, occ\u012bs\u014d psittac\u014d. Hunc accipiter qu\u012bdam incautum \nexc\u0113pit, neque ego ulc\u012bsc\u012b poteram, quamquam strepitum \nc\u0101rissimae avis audi\u0113ns. Sed antequam ignipultam attin\u0113rem, \nhostis cum praed\u0101 \u0113v\u0101nuit. Hanc s\u0101n\u0113 rem aegerrim\u0113 tul\u012b. Quod \npostquam animadvertit \u0112l\u0101psus, s\u014dl\u0101r\u012b m\u0113 vol\u0113ns, psittac\u014ds n\u014dn \nbon\u0101s esse av\u0113s d\u012bcit, ali\u0101s qu\u0101sdam long\u0113 meli\u014dr\u0113s; neque \ndolendum esse, quand\u014d tanta mihi superesset avium pulcherrim\u0101rum \natque \u016btilissim\u0101rum variet\u0101s, quae velut caprae aut columbae \ncib\u0101tum ab homine accipere vellent. Tunc memin\u012b, eum t\u0101le quid \nd\u0113 ph\u0101si\u0101n\u012bs ill\u012bs d\u012bxisse; mox interrogand\u014d comperi\u014d, ips\u0101s h\u0101s \nav\u0113s facile m\u0101nsu\u0113scere et \u014dva parere pl\u016brima: id quod libenter \naudi\u014d. Tum Sec\u016bt\u014dr\u012b d\u0113n\u016bnti\u014d, s\u012b aliquot h\u0101rum avium possit \n\u012bnsidi\u012bs capere v\u012bv\u0101s, id mihi fore gr\u0101tissimum. \n282. Pl\u016brima per imbr\u0113s par\u0101b\u0101mus. Catapult\u0101s in di\u0113s perfectius \nfig\u016br\u0101bant: l\u014dr\u012bcam ego et \u0101l\u0101s scaphae summ\u0101 c\u016br\u0101 m\u0101t\u016br\u0101bam. \nSc\u012blicet \u0112l\u0101psus bit\u016bmine qu\u014ddam opus suum per\u016bnxerat, ut aquam \nrejicerent junc\u012b cannaeque: \u0101 m\u0113 postul\u0101bat ut comp\u0101gem t\u014dtam \nfirmiter conjungerem. Alia quaedam in melius nov\u0101bam, quae \nlongum est d\u012bcere:\u2014d\u0113 supellectile tract\u014dri\u0101, item d\u0113 arc\u012bs \npen\u0101ri\u012bs. Famul\u012b autem me\u012b oper\u0101s qu\u0101sdam inter s\u0113 exerc\u0113bant, \nd\u0113 quibus n\u014dn c\u014dnsul\u0113bar. Id m\u0113 n\u014dn conturbat, quoniam \nindustri\u014ds senti\u014d. Inter imbr\u0113s p\u0101bula vel ligna colligunt, \nfolia, cann\u0101s, alia reportant, fimum hum\u014d ingerunt, greg\u012b \n\u012bnserviunt, natant, r\u0113migant, gladi\u014d vel t\u0113l\u012bs s\u0113 exercent. S\u012bc \ndi\u0113s praetereunt celeriter. 283. Jam Sec\u016btor ad m\u0113 venit, \nvener\u0101nsque humiliter ait, \u201cPessim\u014ds esse lepor\u0113s: velle s\u0113 \nocc\u012bdere.\u201d Diosc\u014dre\u0101s et manioc\u0101s ostendit, n\u014dn corr\u014ds\u0101s modo, \nsed ex hum\u014d \u0113vuls\u0101s. Lepor\u0113s s\u012b supr\u0101 sint, \u201cbon\u014ds\u201d esse ait, \nsed \u201c\u012bnfr\u0101 n\u014dn bon\u014ds.\u201d Ets\u012b parum bene loqu\u0113b\u0101tur, intelleg\u014d \nquid velit, et vide\u014d n\u014dn esse absonum. Attamen vex\u0101re m\u012btissimam \ngentem, quam egomet tamquam col\u014dn\u014ds d\u0113d\u016bxeram, id nimis cr\u016bd\u0113le \nput\u014d. Tandem, multum reluct\u0101tus, \u0113sc\u0101 atque blanditi\u012bs veter\u0113s \nm\u0101nsu\u0113t\u014dsque parent\u0113s capi\u014d, et in pr\u012bstinam caveam concl\u016bd\u014d. \nC\u0113ter\u014ds ad arbitrum Sec\u016bt\u014dris abig\u012b aut occ\u012bd\u012b patior. 284. \nDu\u014drum jam ministr\u014drum oper\u0101 adj\u016btus, paul\u014d amplius poteram \nlitter\u012bs m\u0113 dare: id v\u0113r\u014d ipsum ill\u012b m\u012br\u0101bantur. Aliquand\u014d \nqu\u0101sdam r\u0113s i\u012bs \u0113 libr\u014d leg\u0113bam, s\u012b quid possent intellegere: \npost paul\u014d id e\u014ds penetr\u0101bat altius. Nempe vid\u0113bant, sibi esse \naut suam aut senum aliquot \u2e24quibuscum v\u012bxissent\u2e25 sapientiam; m\u0113 \nex libr\u014d pl\u016brim\u014drum cogniti\u014dn\u0113s ad libitum meum haur\u012bre. 285. \nQuoniam neque libr\u014drum habu\u012b c\u014dpiam, neque \u014dtium i\u012bs esse \npoterat, litter\u0101s doc\u0113re supervac\u0101neum cr\u0113did\u012b; sed l\u012bber\u0113 \ncolloqu\u0113bar mult\u012bs d\u0113 r\u0113bus. Ill\u012b autem, arr\u0113ct\u012bs anim\u012bs, \nstudi\u014ds\u0113 auscult\u0101bant. D\u0113 me\u012bs fort\u016bn\u012bs aliquot r\u0113s \u0113n\u0101rr\u0101v\u012b, \nd\u0113nique d\u0113 naufragi\u014d. Magnit\u016bdinem d\u0113m\u014dnstr\u0101v\u012b n\u0101vis et \u016bberem \nr\u0113rum c\u014dpiam, quam ex mer\u012bs ru\u012bn\u012bs exc\u0113p\u012b. T\u0101lia dum n\u0101rr\u0101bam, \nill\u012b textilia continu\u0101bant opera et linguae meae in di\u0113s f\u012b\u0113bant \nintellegenti\u014dr\u0113s: id quod maxim\u012b s\u0101n\u0113 erat m\u014dment\u012b. \n286. Tandem s\u0113 aperiunt, explicantque quidnam \u0113lab\u014dr\u0101verint. \nR\u0113gium mihi vest\u012btum exhibent atque imp\u014dnunt. Pr\u012bmum erat \ncapitis decor\u0101men, crista vel cor\u014dna ex penn\u012bs multicol\u014dribus: \nhanc \u012bnfulae meae superimpositum vol\u0113bant. Dein teges dorsu\u0101lis \nex palme\u012bs cann\u012bs atque arundinibus; quae s\u012bc erant dispositae, \nut ips\u0101rum col\u014dr\u0113s pr\u014d pulcherrim\u014d fuerint \u014drn\u0101ment\u014d. \nPraec\u012bnct\u014drium item erat ex mollibus junc\u012bs, quod \u0101 ventre ad \ngen\u016b perting\u0113bat. Tum calce\u012b, ex palm\u0101rum f\u016bne supr\u0101, ex coc\u014drum \nvill\u014d \u012bnfr\u0101. \u0112 bull\u012bs vitre\u012bs catell\u0101s f\u0113cerant, coll\u0101rem \nt\u0101l\u0101remque: porr\u014d ali\u0101s bull\u0101s aut vest\u012b aut praec\u012bnct\u014dri\u014d \nassuerant, tamquam gemm\u0101s. T\u0101lia fid\u0113lit\u0101tis documenta \nlaetissim\u0113 et benignissim\u0113 acc\u0113p\u012b: s\u0113ns\u012b profect\u014d, posse \nbarbarica r\u0113gn\u012b \u012bnsignia multum val\u0113re, aut apud h\u014ds ips\u014ds, aut \napud ali\u014ds barbar\u014ds. D\u0113cern\u014d quot\u012bdi\u0113, f\u012bn\u012bt\u012bs operibus, \u016bn\u014d \nalter\u014dve h\u014drum m\u0113 \u014drn\u0101re; et s\u012b qu\u0101 di\u0113s s\u014dlemnior vid\u0113r\u0113tur, \ngest\u0101re \u016bniversa. Nunc, benignit\u0101tis ostentu\u012b, utrumque fid\u0113lium \nministr\u014drum super ocul\u012bs \u014dsculor. 287. Longum foret s\u012b n\u0101rr\u0101rem, \nquant\u0101 cum industri\u0101 messem fr\u016bctuum, r\u0101d\u012bcum ac foli\u014drum su\u0101 in \ntempest\u0101te coll\u0113ger\u012bmus, tr\u0113s vir\u012b cum tribus j\u016bment\u012bs. Ego \nautem post biennium h\u0101c in \u012bnsul\u0101 jam factus sum temporum \nper\u012btior: s\u012b v\u0113r\u014d ante\u0101 ego nimium fu\u012b avidus, h\u012b nunc meam \navidit\u0101tem superant. Nec culp\u014d, imm\u014d laud\u014d et gr\u0101ti\u0101s ag\u014d, quod \ntam lab\u014dri\u014ds\u0113 v\u012bctum et d\u0113lici\u0101s comparent. Pluviae, cal\u014dr\u0113s, \nprocellae, fulgura, su\u014d in \u014drdine, velut ann\u014d superi\u014dre redi\u0113re. \nD\u0113mum, tempest\u0101te ill\u0101 per\u0101ct\u0101, cael\u012b ser\u0113nit\u0101s rediit; atque \nill\u012b sub aur\u014dram lab\u014drant\u0113s, scapham perfici\u0113bant praesaeptam \nlabr\u014dsamque. Dein post autumn\u0101l\u0113s procell\u0101s pr\u014drsus f\u012bn\u012bt\u0101s, ut \nips\u014d in mar\u012b prob\u0101r\u0113tur opus, \u0113r\u0113ct\u012b sunt omnium anim\u012b. V\u0113l\u012bs \nacc\u016br\u0101tissim\u0113 recognit\u012bs, vari\u0101s curs\u016bs exper\u012bmur f\u014drm\u0101s. Pr\u014d \nsaburr\u0101 \u2e24ponder\u014dsa aliquot saxa\u2e25 port\u0101b\u0101mus; haec cum ips\u0101 \nancor\u0101 ita colloc\u0101vimus, ut scapham male d\u0113primerent; quae \nnihil\u014dminus s\u0113 solidam stabilemque praestitit. In portum \nregress\u012b, novam l\u014dr\u012bcam expl\u014dr\u0101mus, num qu\u0101 lax\u0113tur vel \nfirmit\u0101te careat. S\u0101n\u0113 plauditur ab \u016bnivers\u012bs. 288. Postr\u012bdi\u0113 \nc\u014dram m\u0113 submiss\u0113 veniunt, d\u012bcuntque, \u201cesse quod velint \u014dr\u0101re: \nsp\u0113r\u0101re s\u0113, benign\u0113 m\u0113 aud\u012bt\u016brum.\u201d Impetr\u0101t\u0101 veni\u0101, l\u012bber\u0113 \ncurt\u0113que explicant, \u201csine ux\u014dribus v\u012btam n\u014dn bene tr\u0101nsig\u012b: \nvelle s\u0113 in scaph\u0101 ux\u014dr\u0113s ex advers\u0101 terr\u0101 report\u0101re.\u201d Id m\u0113 \ns\u0101n\u0113 perculit: tot r\u0113s in mentem irru\u0113bant; vultusque meus, ut \ncr\u0113d\u014d, reteg\u0113bat, quid sent\u012brem. Breviter aj\u014d: \u201comn\u012b in r\u0113 m\u0113 \nill\u012bs c\u014dnsultum velle; s\u012b possim, fact\u016brum; sed multa esse \nperpendenda, nec posse m\u0113 illic\u014d resp\u014dnsum dare. Ad m\u016bnia sua \nred\u012brent, cr\u0113derentque m\u0113 d\u0113 su\u014d commod\u014d \u0101nxi\u0113 medit\u0101r\u012b.\u201d 289. \nD\u0113 m\u014dbilit\u0101te et perfidi\u0101 barbar\u014drum multa aud\u012bveram. M\u0113met \ninterrog\u0101bam, anne idcirc\u014d r\u0113gi\u012bs m\u0113 hon\u014dribus cumul\u0101verint, ut \nscapham f\u016br\u0101t\u012b ab\u012brent. Id v\u0113r\u014d posse neg\u014d; h\u012b namque vir\u012b fu\u0113re \nhost\u0113s: uterque ad m\u0113 quam ad alterum propior est. Tum s\u012b \naufugere velint, Quamne ad terram? anne ad patriam? sed patriae \nsunt d\u012bversae. Sed sint s\u0101n\u0113 fid\u0113l\u0113s: m\u0113ne scapham meam cum me\u012bs \nministr\u012bs mar\u012b committere, dom\u012b sedentem? qu\u012b s\u012b fl\u016bctibus \nhaust\u012b numquam redeant, iterum sum orb\u0101tus, et pejus quoque, sp\u0113 \nabrupt\u0101. Melius arbitror per\u012bcula particip\u0101re. At s\u012b omn\u0113s \n\u0113gredimur, quis gregem c\u016bst\u014ddiet? quis fr\u016bg\u0113s d\u0113cerpet, \nserv\u0101bit? T\u0101lia commedit\u0101tus, cr\u0101stin\u014d di\u0113 iterum colloquor. \n290. Pr\u012bmum interrog\u014d, Anne jam ux\u014dr\u0113s habeant. Sec\u016btor \nabruptius respondet: \u201cper m\u0113 suam ux\u014drem \u0101 s\u0113 distractam:\u201d \nfuscus autem rubor, dum loqu\u0113b\u0101tur, vultum ocul\u014dsque impl\u0113bat, \nin qu\u014d tenerum aliquid inesse put\u0101bam. \u201cMortuum esse s\u0113 ux\u014dr\u012b \nsuae,\u201d addidit; \u201cquae, secundum gentis m\u014drem, jam ali\u012b vir\u014d sine \ndubi\u014d n\u016bpsisset; quoniam, s\u0113 v\u012bvere, n\u0113m\u014d su\u014drum posset \ncr\u0113dere.\u201d R\u0113ct\u0113 eum d\u012bcere j\u016bdic\u0101bam. Mox \u0112l\u0101psus \u016bm\u0113scente \nocul\u014d incert\u0101que lingu\u0101 respondet, \u201csibi virginem quandam fuisse \nd\u0113sp\u014dnsam, quand\u014d ab hostibus surreptus esset.\u201d Nihil ultr\u0101 \naddidit. 291. Deinde interrog\u014d, unde velint ux\u014dr\u0113s petere? ab \n\u0112l\u0101ps\u012b patri\u0101 an \u0101 Sec\u016bt\u014dris? et qu\u014d sign\u014d cursum in mar\u012b \npossint d\u012brigere? Respondet \u0112l\u0101psus, \u201cSec\u016bt\u014drem ad ips\u012bus \npatriam n\u014dlle revert\u012b: id ux\u014dr\u012b ejus fore cr\u016bd\u0113lissimum: \u0112l\u0101ps\u012b \npatriam amb\u014d pet\u012bt\u016br\u014ds. C\u0113terum s\u012b vent\u014d favente hanc \u012bnsulam \nips\u0101 vesper\u0101 relinquant, cum l\u016bce terram continentem propius \nv\u012bs\u016brum, c\u016bnctam sibi satis n\u014dtam; deinde, ut pr\u012bmum popul\u0101ribus \nsu\u012bs aspiciantur, h\u012bs approbantibus ad terram appuls\u016br\u014ds.\u201d T\u0101lia \nquum aud\u012bssem, respond\u012b: R\u0113ct\u0113 s\u0113 r\u0113s hab\u0113re; sed amplius esse \nponderand\u0101s. \n292. Vespere post operam, ad rem rede\u014d, interrog\u0101ns: \u201cQuis autem \ntot bucc\u012bs cibum dabit, s\u012b h\u0101c in \u012bnsul\u0101 qu\u012bnque erimus,\u2014tr\u0113s \nvir\u012b, ux\u014dr\u0113s duae?\u201d Tum Sec\u016btor arr\u012bd\u0113ns ait, \u201cOcto hominibus \nsatis esse jam cib\u012b, superque.\u201d \u0112l\u0101psus autem, genibus me\u012bs \npr\u014dvol\u016btus, dextram \u014dscul\u0101tur, \u014dratque, \u201cn\u0113 \u012br\u0101scar; sed amplius \nquiddam ill\u014ds in anim\u014d hab\u0113re. Interrogant\u012b mihi, Quidnam \nigitur?\u201d respondet: M\u0101trem suam esse mortuam, fr\u0101tr\u0113s occ\u012bs\u014ds: \nvelle s\u0113, s\u012b possit id fier\u012b, patrem suum h\u016bc tr\u0101nsvehere. Hoc \nquum d\u012bxisset, vultum meum sollicit\u0113 contempl\u0101ns, addit: \u201cNumne \naliud quiddam audeam d\u012bcere?\u201d \u201cPerge:\u201d inquam. Tum d\u012bcit, \n\u201cNesc\u012bre s\u0113, quis sit ux\u014drem dat\u016brus: posse autem fier\u012b, ut \npar\u0113ns, qu\u012b \u016bnam habeat virginem f\u012bliam ita velit dare, s\u012b cum \ne\u0101 sit it\u016brus. Anne ego n\u014dlim \u012bnsulam meam frequent\u0101r\u012b?\u201d R\u0113s \nipsa n\u014dn mihi displic\u0113bat: quamquam id quoque reput\u014d, cavendum \nesse, n\u0113 nimi\u0101 barbar\u014drum frequenti\u0101 ipse in servit\u016btem redigar. \nErg\u014d benign\u0113 responde\u014d, d\u0113 tot nov\u012bs r\u0113bus c\u014dns\u012bder\u0101t\u0113 \nc\u014dgitandum. Illud tantum affirm\u014d, s\u012b profic\u012bscentur, m\u0113 socium \nper\u012bcul\u012b habit\u016br\u014ds. \n293. Postr\u012bdi\u0113 i\u012bs ann\u016bnti\u014d, gr\u0101tissimum esse id mihi, quod tam \nlong\u0113 pr\u014dspexerint tamque industri\u0113 lab\u014dr\u0101verint, praeparant\u0113s \ncibum, \u012bnstr\u016bmenta, m\u0101teriem, ipsamque scapham. T\u0101libus vir\u012bs, \nquidquid restet ardu\u012b, sp\u0113r\u0101re m\u0113 fore pr\u014dnum; sed priusquam \nali\u012bs d\u0113 r\u0113bus d\u012bcam, illud appr\u012bm\u0113 necess\u0101rium, ut nostram n\u014ds \n\u012bnsulam expl\u014dr\u0113mus, antequam in c\u0101s\u016bs maris committ\u0101mur. Hoc \nenim st\u0101re mihi certum, ut n\u014dn sine m\u0113 n\u0101vigent. Jam s\u012b procella \ningruet, s\u012b v\u012b vent\u012b in aliud \u012bnsulae latus d\u0113tr\u016bd\u0101mur, quid \nign\u0101vius, quam n\u014dn n\u014dsse port\u016bs, l\u012btora, r\u012bv\u014ds, ubi t\u016bt\u014d \nrecond\u0101mur? Circumn\u0101vigandam \u012bnsulam, ind\u0101gand\u0101s pr\u014dfluent\u0113s \nmaris, tentand\u0101s bolide profundit\u0101t\u0113s, notand\u0101s in chart\u0101 \nmontium f\u014drm\u0101s, priusquam in incerta maris ru\u0101mus. Haec quum \nd\u012bxissem, ill\u012b pr\u012bm\u014d vix intelleg\u0113bant; sed postquam bis terque \nexplic\u0101v\u012b, tandem aequissim\u012bs anim\u012bs d\u0113cr\u0113tum meum acc\u0113p\u0113runt. \nCAPUT (XI.) \u016aNDECIMUM. \n294. Post h\u014ds serm\u014dn\u0113s uterque magis magisque in oper\u0101s ruit. \nVest\u012bt\u016bs n\u016bpti\u0101l\u0113s ac d\u014dna sp\u014dns\u0101lia cr\u0113d\u0113bam praepar\u0101r\u012b. \nCann\u0101rum, arundinum, junc\u014drum, restium vel f\u012bl\u014drum, pinn\u0101rum \npl\u016bm\u0101rumque magnam vim comport\u0101bant. Poste\u0101 explic\u0101tur, patri\u014d \n\u0112l\u0101ps\u012b r\u0113gul\u014d pl\u016bm\u0101tam vestem ac dorsu\u0101lem tegetem pr\u014d d\u014dn\u014d \nd\u0113stin\u0101r\u012b. Id quum intell\u0113x\u012b, \u0113 vitre\u012bs me\u012bs bull\u012bs pl\u016br\u0113s \nobtul\u012b, ut pr\u014d torque coll\u0101r\u012b essent: h\u0101s acc\u0113pit \u0112l\u0101psus \nlibentissim\u0113. Vide\u014d quoque lect\u014drum opercula vel str\u0101gula \u0113 \nmollibus junc\u012bs contex\u012b: igitur versicol\u014dr\u0113s vest\u0113s \u2e24qu\u0101s \nhab\u0113bam fulgentissim\u0101s\u2e25 in sp\u014dns\u0101rum \u016bsum d\u014dn\u014d. 295. Ego v\u0113r\u014d \nbolide (quam Graec\u012b vocant) quaes\u012bt\u0101;\u2014etenim pl\u016br\u0113s in n\u0101ve \nfuerant\u2014saepius cum alterutr\u014d vir\u014drum \u0113gredi\u0113bar longius, \ninterdum in cymb\u0101, s\u012b vald\u0113 esset ser\u0113na tempest\u0101s, quia tum \nr\u0113m\u012bs certior est cursus. Tunc t\u014dtam illam \u014dram quae Capr\u012bn\u014d \nJug\u014d subjacet, satis expl\u014dr\u0101v\u012b; nusquam pat\u0113bat scaphae \nrecept\u0101culum: sed coll\u0113s acc\u016br\u0101t\u0113 d\u0113l\u012bne\u0101v\u012b, ut loc\u014ds posth\u0101c \nrecogn\u014dscerem. Necn\u014dn cum amb\u014dbus in scaph\u0101 \u0113gressus, \u014dram \nadversam juxt\u0101 hort\u014ds ulterius v\u012bsit\u0101v\u012b; quidquid d\u0113 l\u012btore, d\u0113 \nprofundit\u0101te, d\u0113 montibus erat notandum, id c\u014dnscr\u012bps\u012b, not\u0101t\u012bs \ncael\u012b regi\u014dnibus. Necn\u014dn \u016bn\u012bcuique montium n\u014dmen indid\u012b aliquod, \ncum su\u0101 fig\u016br\u0101 d\u0113scr\u012bptum. 296. Quum di\u0113 qu\u014ddam in hort\u012bs cum \n\u0112l\u0101ps\u014d perm\u0101ns\u012b, Sec\u016bt\u014dre domum miss\u014d propter vari\u014ds \u016bs\u016bs, per \n\u012bnferi\u014dra pr\u0101ta d\u012bligentius exspatiant\u0113s, or\u0233zam inv\u0113nimus in \n\u016bvidi\u014dre loc\u014d l\u0101t\u0113 cr\u0113scentem, ubi numquam ante\u0101 incesseram. \nHanc rem cr\u0113did\u012b posse aliquand\u014d magn\u012b esse m\u014dment\u012b. 297. \nPostr\u012bdi\u0113 qui\u0113scente aur\u0101, excurrimus in cymb\u0101 usque ad portum \nhort\u014drum. Montem illum altissimum j\u016bdic\u014d praecipuum esse \noport\u0113re loc\u014drum documentum. Qu\u0101r\u0113 \u0101 tribus lateribus fig\u016bram \nejus acc\u016br\u0101t\u0113 d\u0113l\u012bne\u014d; tum cr\u0113did\u012b, m\u0113, s\u012b h\u0101c in parte \u012bnsulae \nforem, in di\u0113 quamv\u012bs n\u016bbil\u014d posit\u016bram meam agnit\u016brum. Caut\u0113s \nquoque, s\u012b qu\u0101s vid\u0113rem, scr\u012bpt\u014d not\u0101v\u012b. 298. Pr\u014dfluent\u0113s maris \nmult\u014d erat difficilius observ\u0101re vel conject\u0101re; nam aestus \ndiurnus atque aura conturb\u0101bat rati\u014dn\u0113s me\u0101s. \u012ansulam \u0101 \nSeptemtri\u014dnibus praevert\u012b n\u014dn ausus sum. Multa n\u0101vigand\u014d \nexpertus, tandem d\u0113sp\u0113r\u014d d\u0113 pr\u014dfluentibus cogn\u014dscend\u012bs, nec \nvald\u0113 perturbor, sed d\u0113 h\u0101c r\u0113 reticu\u012b. \n299. Domum revertent\u012b d\u0113lic\u0101tissimum mihi prandium app\u014dnit \nSec\u016btor, ex avibus grandi\u014dribus membr\u0101tim conc\u012bs\u012bs. Genus avium \nnesci\u0113bam: num \u014dtid\u0113s[W] esse possint, dubit\u0101bam. Ille explicat, \nesse e\u0101s ex h\u014dc genere, quod m\u0101nsu\u0113factum vol\u0113bam; sed h\u0101ctenus \nn\u016bllam s\u0113 c\u0113pisse v\u012bvam. Neque ille neque \u0112l\u0101psus vult v\u0113sc\u012b: \nsed postquam f\u012bn\u012bv\u012b, v\u0113sc\u0113bantur. Tum interrog\u014d, quidnam d\u0113 \ngrege possit fier\u012b, s\u012b n\u014ds omn\u0113s peregr\u012bn\u0101mur. Tacent paulisper; \nmox \u0112l\u0101psus respondet: \u201cS\u012b faveant aurae atque Fort\u016bna \nMar\u012bt\u0101lis, tr\u012bdu\u014d n\u014ds posse revert\u012b. Solvendum esse gregem, \ncompedibus fortasse vel objicibus praeped\u012btum. Quand\u014d rede\u0101mus, \nfistulae cantu\u012b oboed\u012bt\u016br\u014ds: s\u012bn minus, s\u012b forte haed\u014drum \naliquot \u0101mittantur, ferendum damnum. N\u014ds \u0113 colle Capr\u012bn\u014d nov\u014ds \nhaed\u014ds, s\u012b libeat, v\u0113n\u0101r\u012b posse; ux\u014dr\u0113s n\u014dn posse.\u201d Quand\u014d haec \ns\u0113ri\u014d ac d\u0113l\u012bber\u0101tissim\u0113 d\u012bxit, vix r\u012bsum continu\u012b. 300. Sed \nperg\u014d interrog\u0101re, Quot r\u0113m\u014ds habe\u0101mus scaphae. \u201cDu\u014ds tantum,\u201d \nrespondent; e\u014ds nempe qu\u014ds egomet fabric\u0101v\u012b. Id sufficere neg\u014d; \nquippe s\u012b aur\u0101 d\u0113fici\u0101mur, fortasse r\u0113migant\u0113s tr\u0113s vir\u012b \nquattuor r\u0113m\u012bs novum assequ\u0113mur ventum, sed du\u014dbus \u016btent\u0113s r\u0113m\u012bs \nin st\u0101gnante \u0101ere haer\u0113bimus. Nov\u014ds r\u0113m\u014ds, cl\u0101mant, caedend\u014ds; \nid quod ego comprob\u014d. 301. Tum alium injici\u014d scr\u016bpulum. S\u012b \nbarbar\u012bs foret c\u014dnfl\u012bgendum, ego ignipult\u0101 pistol\u012bsque vale\u014d; \nministr\u012b me\u012b c\u014dminus gladi\u014d bene pugnant, sed \u0113minus \u0101 barbar\u012bs \nsuperantur. Nam neque mult\u0101s habent sagitt\u0101s, neque multum in \nh\u0101c arte sunt exercit\u012b: porr\u014d s\u012b maxim\u0113 essent sagitt\u0101ri\u012b, duo \nvir\u012b \u0101 mult\u012bs facile obruuntur. Meli\u014dribus opus est t\u0113l\u012bs,\u2014H\u012bc \npausam faci\u014d. 302. Ill\u012b pr\u012bm\u014d tacu\u0113re: tandem inv\u012bt\u014d serm\u014dnem. \n\u0112l\u0101psus timid\u0113 interrogat, \u201canne sciam, quot habe\u0101mus in \u016bsum \ncatapult\u0101rum praepar\u0101ta sp\u012bcula missilia?\u201d Tum responde\u014d, \u201cEgo \ncert\u0113 nesci\u014d.\u201d Ille v\u0113r\u014d, tamquam veritus n\u0113 m\u0113 repreh\u0113nsi\u014dne \ncorripiat, tacet iterum. Sed Sec\u016btor, paul\u014d audentior, test\u0101tur, \n\u201cn\u014dn posse ill\u014ds port\u0101re sp\u012bcul\u014drum jam c\u014dnfict\u014drum pondus: \npl\u016bra c\u014dnfingere, in\u016btile esse: quod genus t\u0113l\u014drum sit melius, \ns\u0113 nesc\u012bre, nisi s\u012b ignipult\u0101s d\u0113not\u0101re velim.\u201d 303. S\u0113ns\u012b m\u0113 \nerr\u0101sse; nam n\u014dlu\u012b igni\u0101ria t\u0113la tunc e\u014ds \u0113doc\u0113re. Itaque \nbenign\u0113 d\u012bx\u012b, \u201cindustriam ill\u014drum omn\u012b laude esse dignam, m\u0113que \ngaud\u0113re, quod tantam hab\u0113rent sp\u012bcul\u014drum vim: sp\u0113r\u0101re m\u0113, sine \nproeli\u014d aut j\u016brgi\u014d n\u014ds redit\u016br\u014ds; sed quot\u012bdi\u0113 catapult\u0101s \nexerc\u0113rent, et tot uterque s\u0113cum ass\u016bmeret sp\u012bcula, quot r\u0113s \nipsa permitteret.\u201d T\u0101l\u012b resp\u014dns\u014d content\u014ds s\u0113 d\u0113m\u014dnstr\u0101bant. \n304. Caes\u012bs du\u014dbus coc\u014drum trunc\u012bs, dissec\u0101mus, dol\u0101mus, in \nr\u0113m\u014ds fingimus;\u2014nam quattuor r\u0113m\u014ds plac\u0113bat c\u014dnficere. Vari\u0101t\u0101 \noper\u0101 ac l\u016bd\u014d, in lab\u014dr\u0113s reficimur, aemul\u0101ti\u014dne ac sp\u0113 \u0113r\u0113ct\u012b. \nHaec inter neg\u014dtia multum colloquimur. D\u0113 ips\u014drum patri\u0101 \ninterrog\u014d vir\u014ds, numne e\u0101rumdem r\u0113rum sit fer\u0101x, quae h\u0101c in \n\u012bnsul\u0101 gignuntur. 305. Ill\u012b explicant, paene contigu\u0101s s\u0113 \nhabit\u0101sse regi\u014dn\u0113s, scopul\u014ds\u0101 \u014dr\u0101 d\u012bv\u012bs\u0101s, quae \u2e24ips\u014ds propter \nscopul\u014ds\u2e25 ab utr\u012bsque concup\u012bscer\u0113tur; hinc ill\u014ds internec\u012bn\u012bs \ninvolv\u012b bell\u012bs. Nam c\u0113teram su\u014drum terram ex mer\u0101 hum\u014d \nc\u014dnsistere, moll\u012b, \u016bvid\u0101, arboribus fruticibusque \u016bberrim\u0101, sed \nsicc\u012bs solid\u012bsque loc\u012bs carente: porr\u014d per inopiam ferr\u012b optimum \nlignum minus esse \u016btile; igitur sax\u014d d\u0113stit\u016bt\u012bs n\u016blla esse \ndom\u014drum fund\u0101menta. 306. Dom\u014ds gent\u012blici\u0101s, ut pl\u016brimum, n\u012bd\u014ds \nesse, inter r\u0101m\u014ds arborum context\u0101s, ut ab \u016bd\u014d sol\u014d \nsubmoveantur, praesertim tum\u0113scentibus fluvi\u012bs. In \u016bvid\u0101 \ncalid\u0101que ill\u0101 hum\u014d pr\u014dc\u0113r\u0101s n\u0101sc\u012b arbor\u0113s, \u0113gregi\u014ds fr\u016bct\u016bs; \npl\u016bra tamen genera me\u012bs in montibus vig\u0113re, quae ill\u012bc \u016bvidus \ncalor n\u014dn pati\u0101tur. Interrog\u014d, Habeantne \u016bv\u0101s? \u201cHab\u0113b\u0101mus,\u201d \ninquit Sec\u016btor, \u201csed gust\u016b h\u012bs dispar\u0113s: n\u012bl erant nostrae, nisi \ndulcis quaedam in \u014dre aqua.\u201d \u201cErg\u014d,\u201d inquam, \u201ct\u016b exqu\u012bre, \nquidnam \u0113 sicc\u0101tis nostr\u012bs \u016bv\u012bs sit optimum, quod patr\u012b sp\u014dnsae \ntuae d\u0113s d\u014dn\u014d.\u201d Arr\u012bdet. 307. Tum in \u0112l\u0101psum conversus: \u201cTu\u0101ne \nin patri\u0101 n\u016bpti\u0101s tum celeriter perficiunt, ut par\u0113ns tribus \nh\u014dr\u012bs \u016bnicam f\u012bliam vir\u014d ign\u014dt\u014d for\u0101s d\u016bcendam tr\u0101dat?\u201d Paulum \npudibundus respondet ille: \u201cS\u012b pater dom\u012b relinquendus erit, n\u014dn \npotest id fier\u012b: s\u012bn pater cum f\u012bli\u0101 sit it\u016brus, potest \nn\u014dnnumquam. Atqu\u012b neque ego inter me\u014ds sum ign\u014dtus, et propter \nm\u0113 c\u014dnf\u012bdent Sec\u016bt\u014dr\u012b. T\u0113 autem r\u0113gi\u0113 vest\u012btum postquam v\u012bderint \nac vim t\u0113l\u014drum n\u014dverint, audierintque \u0101 m\u0113 qu\u0101lis et quantus \ns\u012bs, quidlibet mihi tu\u012b gr\u0101ti\u0101 conc\u0113dent.\u201d Dubit\u0101bam, merane \nesset hoc ad\u016bl\u0101ti\u014d, an v\u0113rit\u0101s; v\u0113ra tamen eum d\u012bcere, lib\u0113bat \ncr\u0113dere. 308. Mox \u0113 Sec\u016bt\u014dre quaer\u0113bam, qu\u0101propter ipse atqu\u012b \nips\u012bus popul\u0101r\u0113s ad \u012bnsulam meam tunc perv\u0113nerint et numquam \nali\u0101s. Rem ab initi\u014d n\u0101rrat. Scopul\u014dsa illa regi\u014d erat ab \nalter\u012bs occup\u0101ta: hinc coeptum est bellum. Quisquis hostium erat \nin praesidi\u014d, comedendus d\u0113stin\u0101b\u0101tur: id gravissimum i\u012bs \nsupplicium. Inter ali\u014ds correptus est ill\u012bc \u0112l\u0101psus. Sed patriam \nversus redeunt\u0113s oppressit procella, quae du\u0101s scaph\u0101s in \napertum mare abripuit. T\u014dtam noctem fr\u016bstr\u0101 luct\u0101t\u012b, summ\u014d m\u0101ne \n\u012bnsulam meam n\u014dn long\u0113 v\u012bd\u0113runt. Volent\u0113s neque v\u0113n\u0113re neque \niterum venient; nam igne\u012b me\u012b t\u0113l\u012b v\u012bs pr\u014d fulgure \npraestigi\u0101t\u014dris d\u012bv\u012bn\u012b sine dubi\u014d n\u016bnti\u0101tur. 309. Tum vol\u014d \nsc\u012bre, utrum h\u012bc esse \u012bnsulam pr\u014drsus nesc\u012bverint. Tum \u0112l\u0101psus \nc\u014dnfirmat, montem \u012bnsulae excelsissimum interdum distingu\u012b; sed \nn\u014dn vac\u0101re ut mer\u0101 c\u016bri\u014dsit\u0101te mar\u012b s\u0113 committant,\u2014tumid\u014d, an \ntranquill\u014d. Percontor, numne car\u014d h\u016bm\u0101na propter lib\u012bdinem \npal\u0101t\u012b exqu\u012br\u0101tur. Amb\u014d vehementer negant: in ulti\u014dnem summae \ninj\u016briae, idcirc\u014d tantum ajunt quasi religi\u014ds\u0113 comed\u012b. 310. Mox \nSec\u016btor urget, ut disert\u0113 d\u012bcam qu\u014d di\u0113 velim n\u0101vig\u0101re; nam \ncertum s\u0113 hab\u0113re, benigna mea verba pr\u014d fact\u012bs val\u0113re, nec velle \nm\u0113 sine caus\u0101 diem pr\u014dferre. Tum vide\u014d d\u0113cernendum esse sine \nign\u0101vi\u0101 d\u012bverticul\u014drum. Responde\u014d, s\u012b c\u016bncta par\u0101ta sint, intr\u0101 \ntr\u012bduum n\u014ds profect\u016br\u014ds. R\u016brsus interrogat, anne velim eum \nomnia, quae vict\u016bs caus\u0101 sunt commoda, praepar\u0101re: ego autem \nassentior. 311. Cr\u0101stin\u014d di\u0113, dum ali\u012bs in r\u0113bus absum, Sec\u016btor \nhaedum jugulat, sanguinem in agell\u014d su\u014d diffundit, cornua \nreservat, membra discerpit; alia coquit, alia suspendit in f\u016bm\u014d. \nUngul\u0101s \u0112l\u0101psus pr\u014d gl\u016btine arripit, pellemque incipit patri\u014d \nm\u014dre depsere. Haec redi\u0113ns inveni\u014d obviam; sed neque prob\u014d neque \nculp\u014d, quoniam veniam meam praeripuerat Sec\u016btor. 312. Ad \u0112l\u0101psus \nconversus quaer\u014d, anne su\u0101 in patri\u0101 t\u0101l\u0113s sint capr\u012b, s\u012bve \nali\u0101rum pellium abundantia. Respondet, apud su\u014ds abund\u0101re \nursul\u014ds, porcill\u014ds, imm\u014d porc\u014ds vari\u012b generis, macac\u014ds, sci\u016br\u014ds, \net quadruped\u0113s capr\u012bs me\u012bs par\u0113s, paene aqu\u0101tic\u014ds; ex quibus \npell\u0113s d\u012bvers\u0101s habeant; porr\u014d form\u012bdand\u014ds sed r\u0101r\u014ds pard\u014ds, \nqu\u014drum pellis optima s\u0101n\u0113: item aud\u012bsse s\u0113, long\u0113 inter \nscopul\u014ds\u014ds coll\u0113s capr\u014ds fer\u0113 hujusmod\u012b existere: s\u0113 numquam \nv\u012bdisse.\u2014Libet m\u0113 t\u0101lia sc\u012bscit\u0101r\u012b et colloqu\u012b. \n313. Post b\u012bduum mihi n\u016bntiant, par\u0101ta omnia: occidente s\u014dle \nn\u0101vigandum. Hic n\u016bntius m\u0113 quasi stup\u014dre d\u0113f\u012bxit; nam m\u012blle r\u0113s \nprius vid\u0113bantur c\u014dnficiendae. Sed vide\u014d m\u0113 multa imper\u0101sse: \nnunc dict\u014d oboediendum: erg\u014d d\u0113 bellic\u014d appar\u0101t\u016b pr\u012bmum satag\u014d, \npostposit\u012bs r\u0113bus c\u0113ter\u012bs. 314. Mox reperi\u014d Sec\u016bt\u014drem lepor\u0113s \nme\u014ds occ\u012bdisse, coxisse, sub crustul\u0101 condidisse. Vult\u016b ang\u014drem \nd\u0113m\u014dnstr\u014d: sed ille, m\u0113 comm\u014dtum senti\u0113ns, hum\u012b c\u014dns\u012bdit \ntacitus, repreh\u0113nsi\u014dnem (cr\u0113d\u014d) expect\u0101ns. D\u0113mum fr\u0101ct\u0101 v\u014dce \nait: \u201cPaenitet m\u0113, s\u012bquid t\u0113, ere, laes\u012b.\u201d Tum susp\u012br\u0101ns d\u012bx\u012b, \n\u201cM\u016bt\u0101r\u012b n\u014dn potest: fortasse n\u014dn male f\u0113cist\u012b: c\u0113terum n\u0113 canem \nmeum occ\u012bd\u0101s. Ego v\u0113r\u014d tibi ign\u014dsc\u014d.\u201d 315. N\u0113 longus sim, fer\u0113 \nN\u014dn\u012bs Novembribus, sub noctem n\u0101vig\u0101mus, nunc r\u0113m\u012bs, nunc aur\u0101 \nadj\u016bt\u012b. Astr\u012bs facile d\u012brig\u0113b\u0101tur cursus ad mer\u012bdiem. Quum vent\u014d \ntranquill\u0113 fer\u0113b\u0101mur, qui\u0113t\u012b m\u0113 ded\u012b, jub\u0113ns, s\u012b quid m\u016bt\u0101r\u0113tur, \nexperg\u0113facere. Ante l\u016bcem st\u0101gn\u0101vit aura; tunc \u0113vigil\u014d; jube\u014d \nr\u0113mig\u0101re. 316. Ort\u014d mox s\u014dle, \u0112l\u0101psus gr\u016bm\u014ds patri\u014ds procul \nagn\u014dscit: uterque maestior vid\u0113b\u0101tur: susurr\u0101bant inter s\u0113. Sed \n\u0112l\u0101psum dorm\u012bre jube\u014d: ego cum Sec\u016bt\u014dre pr\u014dpell\u014d scapham. Post \nh\u014drulam vide\u014d \u0112l\u0101psum propter inqui\u0113tam mentem n\u014dn posse \ndorm\u012bre; itaque Sec\u016bt\u014dr\u012b imper\u014d somnum. Quand\u014d intr\u0101 c\u014dnspectum \nven\u012bmus, \u0112l\u0101psus in m\u0101l\u014d \u0113rigit signum, apert\u0101que arc\u0101, r\u0113gi\u012bs \nvestibus m\u0113 ex\u014drnat. Tum extract\u014d cib\u014d v\u0113sc\u012b hort\u0101tur. Sec\u016btor \nmox \u0113vigilat, et v\u0113scimur omn\u0113s, cane n\u014dn inv\u012bt\u014d. 317. Jam \nlinter \u0101 terr\u0101 cautius appropinquat: tr\u0113s inerant vir\u012b: cr\u0113d\u014d, \nquia n\u014ds erant tr\u0113s. \u201cQuid autem t\u0113 tu\u012b c\u012bv\u0113s vocant?\u201d \u0112l\u0101psum \ninterrog\u014d. \u201cEgo apud e\u014ds\u201d inquit, \u201csum Gelavi.\u201d \u201cDehinc erg\u014d \napud m\u0113 eris Gelavius,\u201d inquam. \u201cEgo v\u0113r\u014d apud me\u014ds eram Totopil,\n\u201d \u012bnfit Sec\u016btor. \u201cErg\u014d t\u016b,\u201d inquam, \u201ceris Totopillus.\u201d Dum r\u012bs\u016b \net alloqui\u014d oblect\u0101mur, accesserat linter: mox noster Gelavius \nnesci\u014d quid cl\u0101r\u0101 v\u014dce pr\u014dn\u016bntiat. Ill\u012b gestient\u0113s strepunt, \nproxim\u0113 acc\u0113dunt, m\u0113 m\u012br\u0101bund\u012b aspectant. Postquam iterum \nper\u014dr\u0101vit Gelavius, ill\u012b rapid\u0113 ad terram r\u0113migant, n\u014ds sequimur \ntardiuscul\u0113. Tandem, jubente Gelavi\u014d, ancoram jacimus: m\u0113 vir\u012b \nme\u012b, hon\u014dris caus\u0101, umer\u012bs su\u012bs in l\u012btus d\u0113portant. Str\u0101t\u012bs \ntap\u0113tibus, c\u014dns\u012bd\u014d: s\u0113ricam meam umbellam Totopillus super m\u0113 \npraetendit; Gelavius \u0113v\u0101nuerat. 318. Opper\u012bmur reditum ejus. \nRedit d\u0113mum cum caterv\u0101 magn\u0101. In fronte erat ipse, cum seni\u014dre \nvir\u014d et virgine. Tum m\u0113 compell\u0101ns ait, \u201c\u0112n pater meus! \u0112n \u016bnica \nsoror!\u201d Pater genua mea man\u016bsque fervid\u0113 \u014dscul\u0101tus est, virg\u014d \nquasi vener\u0101ns c\u014dnstitit. Mox Gelavius cum Totopill\u014d verba \ns\u0113cr\u0113t\u014d habet, post quae intim\u014ds cr\u0113did\u012b serm\u014dn\u0113s misc\u0113r\u012b. \nIntere\u0101 t\u014dta n\u014db\u012bs caterva circumfunditur, mox ad scapham s\u0113 \nconvertit. Id m\u0113 aliquantum commovet. Gelavius autem mult\u0101s r\u0113s, \nd\u014dna pr\u012bncip\u012b, effert; dein ignipult\u0101s me\u0101s cum saccul\u012bs \nsubsidi\u0101ri\u012bs: mox Totopillum vide\u014d sc\u016btulum pr\u014d m\u0113t\u0101 \u0113r\u0113xisse. \n319. Qu\u012bnque juven\u0113s cum arcubus ast\u0101bant. \u0100 v\u012bgint\u012b passibus \nsagitt\u0101s ad sc\u016btulum d\u012br\u0113x\u0113re; n\u0113m\u014d medium ferit, n\u0113m\u014d per \ntabulam penetrat. Deinde Gelavius et Totopillus \u0101 tr\u012bgint\u0101 \npassibus \u0113 catapult\u012bs jaculantur. H\u012b et j\u016bstius coll\u012bne\u0101bant, et \naltius penetr\u0101bant: facile erant vict\u014dr\u0113s. Poste\u0101 ad m\u0113 vener\u0101ns \nacc\u0113dit caterva, \u014dr\u0101ns ut ignipultae ostentem vim: tum mult\u014d cum \nhon\u014dre ad carcer d\u016bcunt. Qu\u012bnqu\u0101gint\u0101 pass\u016bs m\u0113t\u0101r\u012b jube\u014d: \nbitubam meam su\u0101 cum furc\u0101 comport\u0101veram. D\u0113miss\u014d gen\u016b, bis \nignem \u0113jici\u014d: utraque gl\u0101ns medium tr\u0101nsverberat sc\u016btulum. \nEjul\u0101bant territ\u012b, mox murmure collaud\u0101bant: deinde magnum erat \nsilentium. Gelavius tunc c\u016bnct\u012bs explicat, h\u012bs t\u0113l\u012bs s\u0113 per m\u0113 \nfuisse serv\u0101tum. 320. Inter haec Gelavi\u012b pater cum f\u012bli\u0101 c\u014dram \nm\u0113 redit, Totopillus autem pr\u014d interprete mihi explicat, velle \nillum s\u0113 suamque f\u012bliam fide\u012b atque \u012bnsulae meae committ\u012b. Tum \nego abruptius Totopill\u014d, \u201cEgone hanc pr\u014d tu\u0101 ux\u014dre m\u0113cum \nreport\u0101b\u014d?\u201d Is autem \u0113rub\u0113sc\u0113ns annuit: \u201cEre! report\u0101bis s\u0101n\u0113, \ns\u012b libet, et ux\u014drem meam et patrem ux\u014dris.\u201d \u201cAt v\u0113r\u014d,\u201d inquam, \n\u201cpr\u012bncip\u012b oportet m\u0113 obviam ven\u012bre hon\u014dris caus\u0101, nec tamquam \nclanculum ab\u012bre.\u201d Respondet Totopillus, \u201cImm\u014d, id pr\u012bncip\u012b foret \ningr\u0101tum. Ille neque tibi vult off\u0113nsam afferre, neque nimi\u014d \nerg\u0101 t\u0113 hon\u014dre s\u0113 su\u012bs \u0113lev\u0101re.[X] Sed d\u014dn\u012bs Gelavi\u012b pl\u0101c\u0101tus, \nhon\u014drificam c\u014dram multit\u016bdine d\u0113 t\u0113 f\u0113cit menti\u014dnem.\u201d 321. \nJamque accurrit Gelavius, excit\u0101tus ut numquam v\u012bderam. Hic \ns\u0113cum hab\u0113bat virum ac mulierem cum virgine. M\u0113 r\u0113ct\u0101 petit, et \nrem omnem aperit. \u201cEllam! quae mihi erat d\u0113sp\u014dnsa. Propter me\u012b \nam\u014drem n\u014dndum voluit n\u016bbere: \u0113n pater m\u0101terque ejus! T\u016bne n\u014dlis, \n\u014c ere! hanc meam familiam m\u0113cum revehere? Omn\u0113s sunt tu\u012b \ncupidissim\u012b.\u201d \u201cEgo s\u0101n\u0113 vol\u014d,\u201d inquam: \u201csed quot post h\u014dr\u0101s?\u201d \n\u201cJam sunt par\u0101t\u012b,\u201d respondet: \u201cad tenuem comportandam \nsupellectilem vix s\u0113mih\u014dr\u0101 opus est.\u201d 322. Fateor, haec mihi \nnimia erant: velut in somni\u014d esse vid\u0113bar. Tandem ministr\u012bs me\u012bs \nd\u012bc\u014d: \u201cQuod bene vortat Deus, ex intim\u014d pectore gr\u0101tulor v\u014db\u012bs. \nNunc, n\u0113 tempest\u0101s s\u0113 m\u016btet, quam celerrim\u0113 rede\u0101mus.\u201d Ill\u012b cum \nseni\u014dribus colloquuntur; tandem ren\u016bntiant, tribus post mer\u012bdiem \nh\u014dr\u012bs esse n\u0101vigandum. Id adm\u012br\u0101ns, aj\u014d n\u014dn posse fier\u012b. \u201cImm\u014d,\u201d \najunt: \u201cs\u012bc erit melius, ips\u014d t\u0113 j\u016bdice.\u201d \n323. Vide\u014d ali\u0101s ali\u0101sque acc\u0113dere lintr\u0113s, et multa inter s\u0113 \npar\u0101re. Praestit\u016bt\u0101 h\u014dr\u0101 scapham ingredimur, qu\u012bnque vir\u012b, \u016bna \nmulier, duae virgin\u0113s, cum cane optim\u014d, quem puer\u012b vald\u0113 m\u012br\u0101t\u012b \nsunt. Hospitum \u016bnusquisque spississim\u0101s su\u0101s vest\u0113s ind\u016btus est: \nstr\u0101gul\u0101s quoque in scaph\u0101 composuerant. Aura paulum erat \nadversa; sed octo lintr\u0113s cum r\u014dbust\u012bs r\u0113migibus n\u014ds f\u016bne \ntrah\u0113bant, tribus h\u014dr\u012bs amplius. Simul ut Auster ventus fl\u0101bat, \nGelavius, mult\u012bs \u0101ct\u012bs gr\u0101ti\u012bs, bon\u014ds r\u0113mig\u0113s val\u0113re jubet, \nm\u016bnuscul\u014d quoque \u016bnumquemque pr\u014dr\u0113tam hon\u014drat, sed tant\u0101 r\u0113s \ntr\u0101didit celerit\u0101te, ut, quid dederit, nesciam scr\u012bbere. 324. \nExcuss\u014d remulc\u014d, v\u0113l\u012bs n\u0101vig\u0101mus. Gelavius cl\u0101vum tenet. Illud \ntantum n\u0101rr\u0101b\u014d, m\u0113 propter concit\u0101ti\u014dnem mentis n\u014dn potuisse \ndorm\u012bre; Gelavium, qu\u012b prius n\u014dn potuit, post aliquot h\u014dr\u0101s \ndorm\u012bvisse optim\u0113. J\u016bcundissimam s\u0113ns\u012b noctis auram, et d\u0113 \nfut\u016br\u014d medit\u0101bar, n\u014dn sine precibus ac gr\u0101ti\u012bs De\u014d obl\u0101t\u012bs. 325. \nPr\u012bm\u0101 cum l\u016bc\u0113 \u2e24montis nostr\u012b fig\u016bram\u2e25 agn\u014dsc\u014d. Tandem Austr\u014d \ncessante, Subs\u014dl\u0101nus ventus surgit vehementior, torquetque n\u014ds \nnimium ad sinistram. Equidem n\u014dl\u0113bam tam preti\u014dsum onus vel \nminim\u014d per\u012bcul\u014d committere: igitur, quoniam n\u0113m\u014d omnium erat \ninvalidus, in hort\u014drum portum d\u012br\u0113x\u012b cursum. Ibi s\u016bmpt\u014d m\u0101t\u016bt\u012bn\u014d \ncib\u014d, scapham Gelavi\u014d comm\u012bs\u012b, cum patre, quand\u014d faveat ventus, \ncircumd\u016bcendam: ego cum c\u0113ter\u012bs domum revertor, coll\u0113s \n\u0113scend\u0113ns. N\u014ds ante mer\u012bdiem cavern\u0101s assequimur: ill\u012b s\u0113rius \nperveniunt. 326. Summam autem r\u016bpem dum perv\u0101dimus, fistul\u0101 \ncanend\u014d recollig\u014d gregem. D\u0113sunt duo tantum \u0113 j\u016bni\u014dribus. H\u014ds \ncr\u0101stin\u014d di\u0113 Totopillus \u0101cerrim\u0113 anqu\u012bs\u012bt\u014ds recuperat, cane \nadj\u016bt\u014dre. S\u012bc illa r\u0113s faustum habuit exitum.\nCAPUT (XII.) DUODECIMUM.\n327. N\u014dmina novae familiae h\u012bc libet n\u0101rr\u0101re. Gelavi\u012b pater erat \nPachus, soror Laris. Sp\u014dnsa autem Gelavi\u012b Fenis appell\u0101b\u0101tur; \nhujus parent\u0113s Calefus et Upis. Upim cr\u0113did\u012b vix amplius \nquadr\u0101gint\u0101 quattuor hab\u0113re ann\u014ds, et neque Pachum neque Calefum \nexsuper\u0101re qu\u012bnqu\u0101gint\u0101. B\u012bduum praeparand\u012bs n\u016bpti\u012bs \nd\u0113stinantur; quae quidem omnia ips\u012bs relinqu\u014d. N\u016bnti\u014d tamen \nparentibus per interpret\u0113s me\u014ds,\u2014s\u012b quid vestis apud m\u0113 sit, \nquod \u016btendum velint s\u016bmere propter f\u012bli\u0101s su\u0101s, vel s\u012b quae d\u0113 \ncavern\u012bs videantur pr\u014d cubicul\u012bs commodae, n\u0113 graventur quidv\u012bs \nm\u0113 rog\u0101re. \n328. Inter haec maxim\u014d cum gaudi\u014d accurrit Totopillus, \nn\u016bntiatque s\u0113 \u0101lit\u0113s tr\u0113s, ex e\u014d genere quod posset m\u0101nsu\u0113scere, \nc\u0113pisse v\u012bv\u014ds. Atqu\u012b n\u014dn erant ph\u0101si\u0101n\u012b, neque, quantum ego \npoteram intellegere, \u014dtid\u0113s; sed nostr\u0101tium gall\u014ds gall\u012bn\u0101sque \npotius refer\u0113bant, quamquam long\u0113 erant grandi\u014dr\u0113s \naugusti\u014dr\u0113sque, ac s\u0101n\u0113 splendid\u012b. Equidem Gallum Indicum pr\u014d \nn\u014dmine indid\u012b. Libenter cr\u0113d\u0113bam, hoc avium genus numer\u014d \u014dv\u014drum \nappr\u012bm\u0113 excellere: tum m\u0101nsu\u0113facienda d\u0113cern\u014d. M\u0101s \u016bnus erat, \nduae f\u0113minae: nesci\u0113bam, anne par\u0113s numer\u014d conjug\u0113s esse \nd\u0113b\u0113rent: sed Totopill\u014d imper\u0101v\u012b, asserv\u0101ret omn\u0113s summ\u0101 cum \ns\u0113dulit\u0101te, daretque operam, ut pr\u014dl\u0113s gigner\u0113tur pl\u016brima ac \nm\u0101nsu\u0113ta. Ipsum erat genus alitum, quod \u014dlim mihi Gelavius \nd\u0113not\u0101verat. 329. Quand\u014d autem fr\u016bctu\u0101rium meum intr\u014d, f\u016br\u0113s ibi \nvide\u014d r\u0113s d\u0113spoli\u0101sse. Coc\u014drum aliquot nuc\u0113s, saccul\u014d qu\u014ddam \ndisciss\u014d, abreptae fuerant: id sine dubi\u014d macac\u014drum erat opus. \nAtque ante\u0101, m\u0113 absente, \u016bnam nucem surripuerat macacus, neque, \nqu\u012b rem v\u012bdit Totopillus, poterat prohib\u0113re. Ali\u0101s r\u0113s m\u012br\u0113 \ndisject\u0101s su\u012bs \u0113 loc\u012bs inven\u012bmus: f\u0113l\u0113s inculpat Totopillus. \nEquidem n\u014dn cr\u0113d\u014d: sed ille urget vehementer, petitque ut liceat \n\u016bnam reserv\u0101re f\u0113lem cum pusill\u014d mare, c\u0113ter\u0101s abigere: ego \nv\u0113r\u014d, n\u0113 nimium advers\u0101rer, tandem perm\u012bs\u012b. \n330. Expl\u014dr\u0101t\u012bs cavern\u012bs, tr\u0113s pr\u014d conjug\u0101libus cubicul\u012bs \nd\u0113stinantur: sed quoniam opera quaedam prius vid\u0113bantur \nnecess\u0101ria, me\u014d ips\u012bus cubicul\u014d c\u0113d\u014d. Hoc atque m\u016bs\u0113um nov\u012bs \nn\u016bpt\u012bs permitt\u014d, fr\u016bctu\u0101rium Calef\u014d et Up\u012b: ego in arm\u0101ment\u0101ri\u014d \ndormi\u014d. N\u016bpti\u0101s su\u014d fer\u0113 in m\u014dre tr\u0101nsigunt: sed postquam \nuterque pater sp\u014dnsum sp\u014dnsam suam \u014dscul\u0101r\u012b jussit, (id quod \ns\u014dlemn\u0113s caerim\u014dni\u0101s mihi vid\u0113b\u0101tur termin\u0101re,) ego, ind\u016btus \nr\u0113gium vest\u012btum, per\u014dr\u0101t\u016brus assurr\u0113x\u012b, juss\u012bque Gelavium \ninterpret\u0101r\u012b. 331. D\u012bx\u012b m\u0113, De\u012b n\u014dmine, in meam e\u014ds \u012bnsulam \nconv\u0113xisse, ut forent be\u0101t\u012b, m\u0113 regente: c\u0113terum obsequentiam \npostul\u014d: jamque impr\u012bm\u012bs, mea lingua est ab omnibus perdiscenda, \net quantum fier\u012b potest, semper dehinc h\u0101c in \u012bnsul\u0101 audi\u0113tur.\u2014\nTum Gelavi\u014d et Totopill\u014d imper\u014d, ut prandium n\u016bpti\u0101le app\u014dn\u0101tur. \nPost prandium, in r\u016bpem ambul\u0101bant, m\u012brant\u0113s \u012bnsulam. Vespere, \nobort\u012bs tenebr\u012bs, \u0113 corrupt\u014d pulvere nitr\u0101t\u014d aliquot ego \npyrobol\u014ds crem\u0101v\u012b, gestientibus barbar\u012bs. S\u012bc c\u014dnfectae sunt \nn\u016bptiae. \n332. Jam ego Up\u012b m\u0101tr\u0113s antilop\u0101s, \u0101 cane vigilanter c\u016bst\u014dd\u012bt\u0101s, \nd\u0113m\u014dnstr\u0101veram, et d\u0113 mulgend\u012b arte c\u014dn\u0101tus eram explic\u0101re. Ea \nc\u016bram lact\u0101riam \u0101cerrim\u0113 suscipit: duae autem erant m\u0101tr\u0113s cum \nhaedicul\u012bs, nec multum s\u0101n\u0113 expect\u0101bam lactis, quamquam corpore \nerant grandi\u014dr\u0113s. Eadem cass\u0101vam p\u0101nem ex manioc\u0101 et tapiocam \noptim\u0113 c\u014dnfici\u0113bat. Mox Calefus pollic\u0113tur nova v\u0101sa fictilia, \nac meli\u014dra quidem, s\u0113 fact\u016brum; atque ego d\u0113 c\u0101se\u014d, d\u0113 b\u016bt\u0233r\u014d, \nd\u0113 lactis fl\u014dre, quidquid n\u014dveram, per Totopillum comm\u016bnic\u014d, sed \nc\u0101seum praesertim c\u0113nse\u014d faciendum. Item plumbum liquefactum, ad \nvitream v\u0101s\u014drum superficiem quantum c\u014dnferat, d\u0113m\u014dnstr\u014d.. 333. \nPachus \u012bnstr\u016bmenta agr\u012b colend\u012b atque omnem rem ferr\u0101riam \nvehementer adm\u012br\u0101tur: mox per Gelavium \u0113doctus, pr\u012bnceps \u0113v\u0101dit \nfaber ferr\u0101rius, item agricola. Calefus operam figul\u012bnam, \nl\u014dr\u0101riam, f\u016bn\u0101riam potius exerc\u0113bat; m\u0101teriam quoque caed\u0113bat \nlib\u0113ns. Totopillus, ut ante\u0101, cul\u012bnae s\u0113 dabat: item c\u0101l\u014d erat \natque aur\u012bga, et hortul\u0101nus et lanius et auceps. Multam hic \nhabuit in condend\u012bs d\u0113cipul\u012bs per\u012btiam. Numquam ego n\u0113 \u016bnum \nquidem cun\u012bculum resticul\u012bs potu\u012b capere; at Totopillus \nporcill\u014ds pl\u016brim\u014ds, av\u0113s innumer\u0101bil\u0113s, laque\u012bs convol\u016bt\u012bs aut \nsusp\u0113ns\u012bs capi\u0113bat: hinc illae c\u0113n\u0101rum d\u0113liciae, illa penn\u0101rum \npl\u016bm\u0101rumque c\u014dpia, quam m\u012br\u0101tus eram; hinc n\u016bperrim\u0113 gallus \nIndicus cum gall\u012bn\u012bs. Etenim Gelavius patri\u014d su\u014d r\u0113gul\u014d vestem \npulcherrimam, \u0113 multicol\u014dribus avium pl\u016bm\u012bs contextam, d\u014dn\u014d \ndedit, qu\u0101lis in Angli\u0101 caball\u012b pretium afferret. \n334. Vide\u014d porr\u014d m\u0113 ipsum, velut in Braz\u012bli\u0101 quondam, oport\u0113re \nnunc pr\u014d oper\u0101rum praefect\u014d esse. Nauticam quidem rem ipse pr\u014d \nm\u0113 susc\u0113p\u012b; sed in nend\u014d \u0113 foli\u012bs f\u012blum, in complicand\u014d cann\u0101s, \njunc\u014ds,\u2014multa faci\u0113bant f\u0113minae. L\u012bn\u0101menta lucern\u0101rum torquent, \noleam palm\u0101rum exprimunt. \u0112 lign\u0101ri\u0101 fabr\u014drum arte pl\u0113raque jam \nGelavius exerc\u0113bat et quidquid jub\u0113rem, perfici\u0113bat \npr\u016bdentissim\u0113. In v\u012bminibus cann\u012bsque contexend\u012bs per\u012btissim\u012b \nerant omn\u0113s. Hic autem loc\u012b affirm\u0101re oportet quid d\u0113 barbar\u012bs \nsentiam, n\u014dn omnibus, sed mult\u012bs, qu\u014ds n\u014ds Angl\u012b nimium \ncontemnimus. Err\u0101s vald\u0113 et pessim\u0113 c\u014dnsulis, s\u012b long\u0113 ex \nips\u014drum c\u014dnsu\u0113t\u016bdine vel\u012bs e\u014ds d\u0113torqu\u0113re; attamen hunc err\u014drem \ns\u012b d\u0113cl\u012bn\u0101s,\u2014s\u012b apert\u0113 ingenu\u0113 fid\u0113liter j\u016bst\u0113 ag\u0101s,\u2014mult\u014d \nfid\u0113li\u014dr\u0113s tibi erunt quam quis put\u0101verit; mox m\u012bram \nsag\u0101cit\u0101tem, gr\u0101t\u014ds anim\u014ds gener\u014ds\u014dsque, ali\u0101sque virt\u016bt\u0113s \nneutiquam spernend\u0101s d\u0113prehend\u0113s summam inter barbariem. N\u014ds \nautem, heu l\u016bgubr\u012b f\u0101t\u014d! nostra comm\u016bnic\u0101mus vitia, ill\u014dsque \nd\u0113discimus n\u0101t\u012bv\u0101s ips\u014drum virt\u016bt\u0113s; dein incert\u012bs ex caus\u012bs \ninim\u012bcitiae \u012bnsurgunt, d\u014dnec host\u012ble odium m\u012btia commercia \npessumdet. 335. Pr\u012bma autem mihi c\u016bra post n\u016bpti\u0101s erat, ut \u2e24r\u0113s \ncompar\u0101t\u0101s\u2e25 melius \u014drdin\u0101rem, \u016bnamquamque su\u014d in locul\u014d. Nov\u0101s \nut \u014dll\u0101s largi\u014dr\u0113sque praepar\u0101ret Calefus, urg\u0113bam, argillamque \nunde hab\u0113ret, indic\u0101v\u012b. Ego autem, quoniam veter\u0113s n\u014dn \nsufficiunt arcae, majus quiddam, arm\u0101ri\u012b \u012bnstar, eum m\u0113ns\u012bs \ninteri\u014dribus, cond\u014d. For\u0113s ill\u0101s diaetae nauticae pr\u012bncip\u0101lis, \nquae supr\u0101 biennium apud m\u0113 jacuerant, pr\u014d hujus arm\u0101ri\u012b foribus \nadhibe\u014d. Illud opus m\u0113 per sex di\u0113s exercuit. Totopillum juss\u012b \nc\u016br\u0101tissim\u0113 d\u0113ligere, quid pr\u012bmum d\u0113b\u0113ret c\u014dns\u016bm\u012b, quid in \nsacchar\u014d c\u014dnservandum, quid per s\u0113 posset c\u014dnsistere. Is autem \ndiosc\u014dre\u012bs, manioc\u012bs, cucumibus in nov\u014d agell\u014d per s\u0113 dedit \noperam. Quoti\u0113s aliquid aut piscium aut carnis erat c\u014dns\u016bmendum, \npl\u016br\u0113s didicerat reserv\u0101re reliqui\u0101s, quibus \u2e24\u0113lix\u012bs propter \ncanem ac f\u0113l\u0113s\u2e25 massae far\u012bnulentae vel alius cibus gustum \nd\u0113r\u012bv\u0101rent id\u014dneum. 336. Mox d\u0113 ole\u014d ac sacchar\u014d erat \npr\u014dvidendum, d\u0113que sag\u014dne (quod appellant) et d\u0113 c\u0113r\u0101 palm\u0101rum. \nPalm\u012bs aliquot succ\u012bs\u012bs, aut far\u012bnulentam medullam aut c\u0113ram \nhab\u0113b\u0101mus: folia, cann\u0101s, st\u012bpit\u0113s, ad su\u014ds quidque \u016bs\u016bs \nadhib\u0113mus. Maximam autem et ole\u012b et sacchar\u012b c\u014dpiam jam nunc \nc\u0113nsu\u012b parandam. Saccharum Gelavius, optimum illud quidem, \u0113 \npalm\u0101 qu\u0101dam affatim d\u0113tulit: Borassum Fl\u0101bellif\u014drmem, ut nunc \naudi\u014d, appellant arborem. 337. Post haec d\u0113 agricult\u016br\u0101 \ndubit\u0101bam. Z\u0113am quam maxim\u0113 acc\u016brandam op\u012bn\u0101bar. Or\u0233zae plant\u0101s \nin hort\u012bs d\u012bx\u012b inv\u0113nisse Gelavium; sed illam cult\u016bram minus esse \nsal\u016bbrem cr\u0113did\u012b, nec posse nisi \u016bvidissim\u014d in loc\u014d exerc\u0113r\u012b. \nAttamen Pachus et Calefus \u014drant, ut sibi liceat hanc rem \nadministr\u0101re: itaque ips\u012bs rem\u012bs\u012b, simul indic\u0101ns z\u0113am \u0101 m\u0113 \nor\u0233zae antep\u014dn\u012b. 338. Pachus in cavern\u012bs \u014drdinand\u012bs str\u0113nuum s\u0113 \npraebet. F\u0113minae, adjuvante Gelavi\u014d et m\u0101teriem suppeditante, in \nvestibus nectend\u012bs vald\u0113 erant industriae; mox dat\u014d s\u0101p\u014dne, \nvest\u012bmenta lav\u0101re \u0113docu\u012b. Tandem, post du\u014ds fer\u0113 m\u0113ns\u0113s, t\u014dta \nmea familia su\u0101s hab\u0113bat s\u0113d\u0113s, satis \u014drn\u0101t\u0101s, su\u0101sque oper\u0101s. \n339. Tant\u012bs adj\u016bment\u012bs suffultus, poteram esse \u014dti\u014dsior, imm\u014d \ns\u0113gnior: nec laetior tamen eram. \u201cQu\u014drsum haec?\u201d interrog\u0101bam. \n\u201cNum t\u014dta mea v\u012bta s\u012bc est d\u0113genda,\u2014r\u0113s op\u012bm\u0101s colligend\u014d, \nc\u014dns\u016bmend\u014d? An meli\u014drem aliquam religi\u014dnem poter\u014d h\u012bs barbar\u012bs \nimpert\u012bre? Tentandum est fortasse: sed linguam meam impr\u012bm\u012bs \nperdiscant oportet. Anne h\u014drum oper\u0101 ecquand\u014d patriam recuper\u0101b\u014d \nmeam?\u201d T\u0101libus exercitus c\u014dgit\u0101ti\u014dnibus maestior f\u012b\u0113bam ac \ntaciturnior: id v\u0113r\u014d senti\u014d pessim\u012b esse exempl\u012b. Etenim nisi \nmultum colloquar, n\u0113 Gelavius quidem nec Totopillus garrient \nAnglic\u0113; tum c\u0113ter\u012b n\u014dn poterunt discere. Statu\u014d f\u0101bell\u012bs ac \nn\u0101rr\u0101tiuncul\u012bs, quoti\u0113s c\u0113n\u0101mus, abund\u0101re; et, cum Gelavi\u014d \nimpr\u012bm\u012bs, item cum Totopill\u014d, d\u0113 religi\u014dne serm\u014dn\u0113s hab\u0113re \nseorsum. 340. Equidem jam pr\u012bdem d\u0113 me\u0101 ips\u012bus histori\u0101 quaedam, \npraecipu\u0113 d\u0113 naufragi\u014d, ill\u012bs n\u0101rr\u0101veram; sed pl\u016brima tunc parum \nintell\u0113x\u0113re, atque iterum aud\u012bre av\u0113bant. Nunc autem pr\u012bmum \ncl\u0101r\u0113 d\u012bx\u012b quondam fuisse m\u0113 Maur\u012b hominis barbar\u012b servulum; id \nquod anim\u014ds e\u014drum ade\u014d perculit, ut singula quaeque aud\u012bre \ncup\u012bverint magnopere. Ego autem quae pl\u016br\u0113s per di\u0113s tunc \nn\u0101rr\u0101v\u012b, n\u014dn c\u0113l\u0101rem l\u0113ct\u014drem meum, nisi dict\u016b longiuscula \nforent. Profect\u014d illa servit\u016bs cr\u016bdum meum et praefer\u014dcem animum \nsal\u016bbriter m\u012btig\u0101vit; et quoniam erum n\u014dn cr\u016bd\u0113lem habu\u012b, multa \ntum didic\u012b sub Experienti\u0101 magistr\u0101. Porr\u014d ill\u0101 in terr\u0101 \ncal\u014dribus assu\u0113v\u012b, imm\u014d r\u014dbustior f\u012b\u0113bam. S\u014dl \u014drae Maroc\u0101nae, \nnostr\u014d long\u0113 \u0101crior, aur\u0101 \u014ccean\u012b temper\u0101tur, neque n\u014db\u012bs est \n\u012bnsal\u016bber, modo caput fasci\u0101 sindonis involv\u0101s, et v\u012bn\u014d \nabstine\u0101s pr\u014drsus. Ill\u012bc quoque pl\u016brima didic\u012b d\u0113 fr\u016bgibus, d\u0113 \noleribus, d\u0113 fruticibus, quae poste\u0101 erant \u016btilia. Pl\u016brim\u0101s r\u0113s \nitem min\u014dre didic\u012b appar\u0101t\u016b facere, quam qu\u014d apud n\u014ds f\u012bunt. \nQuippe ferr\u0101menta agrestia, domesticam supellectilem, \n\u012bnstr\u016bmentum cul\u012bnae, pistr\u012bn\u012b, fabricae,\u2014offend\u012b ill\u012bc rudi\u014dra \nomnia; sed Necessit\u0101s inventr\u012bx multa simpliciter c\u014dnficit, quae \nf\u0101t\u014d qu\u014ddam me\u014d disc\u0113bam. D\u0113nique ips\u014d industriae fr\u016bct\u016b \nsuperbi\u0113ns, str\u0113nuus operis \u0113v\u0101s\u012b, vers\u016btus ad exc\u014dgitandum \npati\u0113nsque lab\u014dris. 341. Sed ad rem rede\u014d. Aliud quoque jam \naequum vid\u0113b\u0101tur. Quoniam continuus labor ad v\u012btam n\u014dn jam erat \nnecess\u0101rius, f\u0113st\u012bque aliquot di\u0113s ips\u012bs barbar\u012bs assolent, \nseptimus di\u0113s (quem pr\u012bmum vel Domin\u012b diem appell\u0101mus) \nChr\u012bstian\u014drum m\u014dre d\u0113b\u0113bat tandem distingu\u012b; ex qu\u014d religi\u014dnis \naliqua posset c\u016bra exor\u012br\u012b. Itaque Kalend\u0101ri\u014d me\u014d rec\u0113ns\u014d, \nquisnam sit \u201cdi\u0113s Domin\u012b\u201d discern\u014d: tum subdit\u012bs me\u012bs \u0113d\u012bc\u014d, ut \nf\u0113stus sit hic di\u0113s: qu\u014d di\u0113 item c\u014dram m\u0113 post m\u0101t\u016bt\u012bnum cibum \ncongregentur. Ego r\u0113gium mon\u012ble ger\u0113ns, precem brevem N\u016bmin\u012b \nSupr\u0113m\u014d pr\u014dn\u016bnti\u014d, ut su\u014d h\u0101lit\u016b ment\u0113s nostr\u0101s p\u016brget; illum \nquoque ips\u012bus propter virt\u016bt\u0113s ad\u014dr\u014d: poste\u0101 litter\u0101rum \nrud\u012bmenta c\u016bnct\u014ds doce\u014d, ut novam linguam profundius anim\u012bs \nd\u0113f\u012bgam. 342. S\u012b pluvia cadit, in m\u016bs\u0113\u014d congreg\u0101mur; ego in \ntabulam ligneam cr\u0113t\u0101 scr\u012bb\u014d: s\u012bn ser\u0113num est caelum, ubi ar\u0113na \nsubt\u012blis ac pl\u0101na est potissimum, ibi radi\u014d maxim\u0101s d\u0113sign\u014d \nlitter\u0101s. Ea impr\u012bm\u012bs voc\u0101bula, quae saepissim\u0113 pr\u014dn\u016bntiantur, \ndocu\u012b scr\u012bbere, ut n\u014dmina r\u0113rum, Hom\u014d, Vir, F\u0113mina, Canis, \nP\u0101nis; ut verba comm\u016bnia, Fac, D\u012bc, D\u0101 mihi, Ven\u012b, Ab\u012b; ut \npr\u014dn\u014dmin\u0101, Ego, T\u016b, N\u014ds, V\u014ds, Hic, Ille, S\u012bc.\u2014Pr\u012bm\u014d quidnam \nvellem faceremve, parum intelleg\u0113bant; sed quum \u012bdem sonus e\u0101dem \ncum litter\u0101 saepius audi\u0113b\u0101tur, senti\u0113bam e\u014ds excit\u0101r\u012b. Gelavius \npr\u012bmus \u014dr\u0101bat, ut sibi lic\u0113ret rem iter\u0101re. Dein incipit \u0101 M\u0113, \nT\u0113, S\u0113; item N\u014ds, V\u014ds, H\u012b, H\u014ds, S\u012bc, D\u012bc; et postquam bis terque \nest \u0101 m\u0113 \u0113doctus, optim\u0113 perdidicit brevia voc\u0101bula tot, quot \nomnibus element\u012bs comprehendend\u012bs sufficerent. Mox ego t\u014dtam \nlitter\u0101rum seriem, in parv\u0101 chart\u0101 c\u014dnscr\u012bptam, ips\u012b tr\u0101d\u014d. 343. \nGelavius s\u0101n\u0113 et Totopillus, qu\u012b quae d\u012bcerem intelleg\u0113bant, \nlong\u0113 celerius ips\u0101s disc\u0113bant litter\u0101s. H\u014ds amplius in di\u0113s \n\u0113docu\u012b. Proxim\u014d di\u0113 Dominic\u014d c\u0113ter\u012bs ips\u012b praecipi\u0113bant. Tandem \nfuror discend\u012b c\u016bnct\u014ds perv\u0101sit magnus, quand\u014d h\u014ds v\u012bd\u0113runt et \nintellegere et pr\u014d magistr\u012bs esse: sed multa n\u014dn poterant \nlegere, qu\u012b paucissima voc\u0101bula n\u014dverant. 344. Mox \u0101 m\u0113 exqu\u012brit \nGelavius, ex qu\u0101nam r\u0113 c\u014dnfici\u0101tur charta. Ego d\u0113 pap\u0233r\u014d, d\u0113 \nl\u012bn\u014d, d\u0113 gossypi\u014d faci\u014d certi\u014drem; explic\u014d item d\u0113 membr\u0101n\u0101 s\u012bve \npergam\u0113n\u0101. Multa poste\u0101 folia grandiuscula ad m\u0113 reportat, \nsiccat in s\u014dle, premit, l\u0113vigat; junc\u014ds item aqu\u0101 m\u0101cer\u0101t\u014ds \ncontundit, gumm\u012b miscet, expl\u0101nat, chart\u0101s me\u0101s imit\u0101ns, sed \nparum r\u0113s cessit: tandem \u0113 praegrandibus palmae cujusdam foli\u012bs \nsatis bonam c\u0113nset hab\u0113r\u012b chartam. D\u012bx\u012b huic arundin\u0113s ac penn\u0101s \navium pr\u014d calam\u012bs scr\u012bpt\u014dri\u012bs sufficere, pr\u014d \u0101tr\u0101ment\u014d succum \ns\u0113piae; gumm\u012b addendum, s\u012b liquor in chart\u0101 nimis difflueret. \nIlle c\u014dnfirmat, numquam sibi d\u0113fut\u016brum scr\u012bbend\u012b \u012bnstr\u016bmentum, \nmodo artem ipsam mente arripuerit. Jam \u016bnam quot\u012bdi\u0113 h\u014dram \nlitter\u0101s eum doce\u014d. Di\u0113 Domin\u012b quaecumque nova voc\u0101bula c\u0113ter\u012b \ndidicerint, ea doce\u014d scr\u012bbere; paul\u0101timque, quum pl\u016bra \nintellegunt, quaedam d\u0113 religi\u014dne incipi\u014d inculc\u0101re. \n345. Cum Gelavi\u014d l\u012bberius d\u0113 r\u0113bus d\u012bv\u012bn\u012bs loqu\u0113bar. Quidquid d\u0113 \nDe\u014d Cre\u0101t\u014dre, d\u0113 l\u0113ge m\u014dr\u0101l\u012b atque offici\u012bs, d\u0113 s\u0101nct\u014d De\u012b \nj\u016bdici\u014d, d\u0113 ejusdem in s\u0101nct\u014ds gr\u0101ti\u0101 d\u012bcerem, id omne ill\u012b \nfacile esse et quasi n\u0101t\u016br\u0101le comperi\u014d: etiam d\u0113 immort\u0101lit\u0101te \nh\u016bm\u0101n\u012b anim\u012b (id quod m\u012br\u0101bar) jam cr\u0113d\u0113bat. Sed quoti\u0113s aud\u0113rem \nd\u0113 Chr\u012bst\u014d, d\u0113 M\u014dse, d\u0113 J\u016bdae\u012bs n\u0101rr\u0101re, \u014dti\u014dsus audi\u0113bat, quasi \nqu\u012b m\u012br\u0101r\u0113tur quid haec ad s\u0113 attin\u0113rent: aliquand\u014d fortiter \ncontr\u0101 d\u012bc\u0113bat. Tandem diff\u012bsus posse m\u0113 tant\u012bs arg\u016bment\u012bs suam \nimpert\u012bre gravit\u0101tem, abstinu\u012b, n\u0113 profundius m\u0113 d\u0113mergerem. \n346. N\u014dn absurdum erit n\u0101rr\u0101re, quantum Pachus su\u0101 arte ferr\u0101ri\u0101 \nf\u0113min\u0101s adj\u016bverit. Erant \u0113 me\u014d \u012bnstr\u016bment\u014d ac\u016bs quaedam min\u014dr\u0113s, \nitem maj\u014dr\u0113s sarcin\u0101riae. H\u0101s Pachus multum adm\u012br\u0101tur. Min\u014dr\u0113s \nnequit imit\u0101r\u012b, sed utriusque f\u014drmae pl\u016br\u0113s pr\u014dc\u016bdit grand\u0113s, \nqu\u0101s exacuit politque satis pulchr\u0113, ocul\u012bs r\u0113ct\u0113 pert\u016bs\u012bs. \n\u016an\u012bcuique f\u0113minae d\u014dn\u014d dat tr\u0113s f\u014drmae utriusque: h\u012bs vest\u0113s, \nteget\u0113s, str\u0101gula c\u014dnsuunt. \n347. Gelavius identidem quaerit ex m\u0113, numne paeniteat m\u0113, quod \npl\u016br\u0113s sumus: num velim ad tr\u0113s vir\u014ds r\u016brsum redig\u012b: num s\u012b pr\u014d \nocto oct\u014dgint\u0101 for\u0113mus, id oport\u0113ret dol\u0113re: num m\u0101lim pauc\u014drum \nesse quam pl\u016brim\u014drum r\u0113gulus. Nesci\u0113bam qu\u014drsum haec \nintenderent: subesse quiddam mihi vid\u0113b\u0101tur. D\u0113mum interrog\u014d \nd\u012br\u0113cta, anne c\u014dnsult\u014d t\u0101lia loqu\u0101tur. Tum modest\u0113 ac candid\u0113 \nrespondet: \u201c\u014c ere! t\u0101lis est hujus \u012bnsulae j\u016bcundit\u0101s, t\u0101lis \nomnium r\u0113rum c\u014dpia atque commodit\u0101s, t\u0101lis tua ips\u012bus \nbenevolentia, aequit\u0101s, sapientia; ut ego popul\u0101r\u0113s me\u014ds vellem \ns\u0101n\u0113 mult\u014ds h\u012bsce r\u0113bus m\u0113cum fru\u012b. Nec dubit\u014d fore ut ill\u012b \nvelint eadem, s\u012b modo lic\u0113ret: tuum erit d\u012bcere, s\u012b id lic\u0113bit \nnumquam.\u201d Haec quum respond\u0113ret, haesit\u0101v\u012b c\u014dnsili\u012b incertus. \nMox d\u012bx\u012b: \u201cs\u0101n\u0113 su\u012bs esse illum benevolum: ego quid velle, quid \nn\u014dlle d\u0113b\u0113rem, id mihi ips\u012b neutiquam liquere.\u201d Not\u0101v\u012b poste\u0101 \nc\u016bnct\u014ds, ultr\u0101 quod necesse erat, ampli\u0101re cult\u016bram. Id ipsum \nante\u0101 f\u0113cisse Totopillum memineram, tum quum hancce col\u014dniam \nclam medit\u0101bantur: itaque cr\u0113d\u014d omn\u0113s eandem fov\u0113re spem, quam \nindic\u0101verat Gelavius. Hoc m\u0113 male habet, n\u0113 nimis adverser, n\u0113ve \nper\u012bcul\u014dsum quidpiam gr\u0101tificer. 348. Iterum \u0113 Gelavi\u014d quaer\u014d \nquot nov\u014ds col\u014dn\u014ds t\u016bt\u014d posse ven\u012bre cr\u0113dat, et qu\u0101nam sub l\u0113ge: \nnum tot modo quot in \u016bn\u0101 famili\u0101 n\u014db\u012bscum aet\u0101tem possint \nd\u0113gere.\u2014Respondet, \u201csemper s\u0113 cr\u0113dere, fore ut ego in patriam \nrestituar: quippe, ubi \u016bna v\u0113nerit n\u0101vis, aliquand\u014d tandem \nvent\u016bram esse alteram. Tum s\u0113 su\u014dsque, optim\u014d d\u0113f\u0113ns\u014dre orb\u014ds, \nparvam manum pollentibus barbar\u012bs relinqu\u012b: nam h\u014ds quoque \naliquand\u014d vent\u016br\u014ds, nec, nisi aut igne\u012bs t\u0113l\u012bs aut maj\u014dre \ncaterv\u0101, posse abig\u012b. Tot erg\u0101 nov\u0101s famili\u0101s, quot firm\u014d sint \npraesidi\u014d, esse optand\u0101s. M\u012blle vir\u014ds nimis mult\u014ds n\u014dn fore, sed \nqu\u012bnqu\u0101gint\u0101 contr\u0101 \u0113ject\u0101menta maris sufficere.\u201d Interrog\u014d, \nquid sibi velint maris \u0113ject\u0101menta. S\u012bc ille explicat, ut d\u012bcat, \n\u201cvir\u014ds qu\u012b in scaph\u012bs per c\u0101s\u016bs maris h\u016bc advehantur inv\u012bt\u012b.\u201d \nV\u012bs erg\u014d (inquam) qu\u012bnqu\u0101gint\u0101 import\u0101re famili\u0101s? \u201cS\u012b lic\u0113ret, \nvellem,\u201d respondet. At Gelav\u012b! (r\u016brsus aj\u014d) id n\u014dn per m\u0113 \nlic\u0113bit. Propter loc\u014ds, arbor\u0113s, antilop\u0101s, pisc\u0113s, av\u0113s, n\u016blla \nn\u014dn erit pugna atr\u014dx. N\u0113m\u014d mihi obtemper\u0101bit n\u0113m\u014d intelleget: \nego inter pr\u012bm\u014ds occ\u012bdar. 349. \u201c\u0100h, n\u0113 t\u0101lia fing\u0101s,\u201d (inquit): \n\u201cn\u0113 metu\u0101s, ere! Prius cert\u0113 ego moriar: sed n\u014dn n\u014dst\u012b meam \ngentem.\u201d D\u012bc qu\u014dmodo (inquam). \u201cPr\u012bmum, ere! (respondet) homin\u0113s \nsumus, n\u014dn b\u0113stiae; itaque et Deum et pr\u012bncipem vener\u0101mur. \nQuisquis fortit\u016bdine, pr\u016bdenti\u0101, j\u016bstiti\u0101 excellit, hunc \nextollere, decor\u0101re, sequ\u012b am\u0101mus. T\u0101lis t\u016b es vir, qu\u012b str\u0113nu\u0113 \nac j\u016bst\u0113 regere call\u0113s. Nostr\u014drum vir\u014drum quot t\u0113 n\u014dverint, t\u0113 \nprae nostr\u012bs r\u0113gul\u012bs omnibus antep\u014dnent. Dein, aud\u012b, quaes\u014d, \namplius. Summ\u012b nostr\u012b r\u0113gul\u012b patruus est Cortops qu\u012bdam, optimus \nille quidem vir, sed fr\u0101tris f\u012blium sibi praep\u014dn\u012b aegr\u0113 fert, \nhabetque facti\u014dnem n\u014dn parvam. M\u012btis est ac senior vir; f\u012bli\u012b \nautem ejus omn\u0113s proeli\u014d occubant. Is profect\u014d t\u0101lem in \u012bnsulam \ncol\u014dn\u014ds d\u0113d\u016bcere vehementer cupiat: imm\u014d, id ipsum aud\u012bv\u012b, ac \ncr\u0113d\u014d. Jam s\u012b h\u016bc adven\u012bret, ille et su\u014ds c\u016bnct\u014ds facile \nregeret, et tibi obsequer\u0113tur offici\u014dsissim\u0113. Tum omnia illa d\u0113 \nloc\u012bs, arboribus, antilop\u012bs, ex c\u014dnsu\u0113t\u016bdine nostr\u0101 ac sine \npugn\u0101 \u014drdin\u0101buntur.\u201d Optim\u0113 causam d\u012bcis, \u014c Gelav\u012b (responde\u014d) \net callid\u0113 ad\u016bl\u0101ris; sed nimi\u0101 m\u0113 s\u014dlicit\u016bdine t\u014dta haec r\u0113s \nexcruci\u0101ret: qu\u0101r\u0113 amplius d\u0113 e\u0101 n\u0113 colloqu\u0101mur. \n350. N\u014ds autem, ita ut d\u012bx\u012b, cursum nostrum ten\u0113b\u0101mus, nec \npaenit\u0113bat m\u0113 me\u014drum subdit\u014drum. Singula n\u0101rr\u0101re d\u0113 tot \nhominibus, longum foret. Omnia quae egomet inv\u0113neram, paul\u0101tim \ndiscunt; sed Pachus novam rem repperit. Per Gelavium \u0101 m\u0113 \nexqu\u012bs\u012bverat, unde ven\u012bret ferrum. D\u012bx\u012b, \u0113 montibus eff\u014dd\u012b, \nejusque aspectum esse, tamquam in humum \u012bnfl\u016bxisset, mass\u0101sque \nhum\u012b su\u0101 gravit\u0101te impl\u0113visset. Post aliquot di\u0113s laetus \nren\u016bntiat, ferrum \u0101 s\u0113 in monte repertum. Ostendit marram, nov\u014d \nqu\u014ddam metall\u014d crust\u0101tam. Explicant mihi, v\u012bdisse eum, in \nulteri\u014dre altissim\u012b ill\u012bus montis lat\u0113re, r\u012bvulum quendam \ndiscol\u014drem, turbidum: marr\u0101 postquam conc\u012bverit, hanc \nconcr\u0113visse crustam. Vide\u014d n\u014dn ferream esse crustam illam, sed \nah\u0113neam. Responde\u014d, posse hoc mult\u012b esse \u016bs\u016bs, quamquam n\u014dn sit \nferrum; amplius oport\u0113re ex\u0101min\u0101r\u012b. Poste\u0101 doce\u014d t\u0101le aes \ncolligere et fabric\u0101re, quoti\u0113s \u016bsus v\u0113nerit. \n351. Hiems hujus regi\u014dnis praeterierat. Calidior tempest\u0101s \nappropinqu\u0101bat; quot\u012bdi\u0101n\u012b imbr\u0113s aug\u0113sc\u0113bant. Di\u0113 qu\u014ddam M\u0101rti\u012b \n\u2e24solit\u014d \u0101crius\u2e25 fl\u0101bat ventus et continenter per noctem d\u016br\u0101vit. \nSub ipsum m\u0101ne per tenuem pluviam ego cum Totopill\u014d coc\u014drum \nsinum versus perg\u0113bam, atque \u0101 specul\u0101 me\u0101 vide\u014d lintrem terrae \nappropinquantem. \u0112grediuntur duo vir\u012b, \u016bna f\u0113mina: tot modo \ninerant. Vide\u014d pr\u014dtinus p\u012br\u0101t\u0101s n\u014dn esse h\u014ds: vir\u012b d\u0113fess\u012b esse \nvidentur, f\u0113mina alg\u0113scere. Haec ubi \u0101 vent\u014d pr\u014dteg\u0101tur, \nvestibus cont\u0113ctam collocant: ips\u012b vagantur, r\u0101m\u014ds aspectant\u0113s, \nut qu\u012b cibum anqu\u012brunt. 352. Pistol\u0101s m\u0113cum habu\u012b, sed nihil \nerat quod tim\u0113rem. R\u0101mul\u014d arboris raptim absciss\u014d, hunc \u0113l\u0101t\u0113 \nger\u0113ns, cum Totopill\u014d d\u0113scend\u012b, ci\u0113bamque e\u014ds cl\u0101m\u014dre: neque \nill\u012b \u0101 n\u014db\u012bs f\u016bg\u0113runt. Juss\u012b Totopillum colloqu\u012b, s\u012b forte \nintellegerent. Is cito c\u014dnfirmat, esse e\u014ds Gelavi\u012b popul\u0101r\u0113s, \nvent\u014d abrept\u014ds, jamque fam\u0113, lab\u014dre, fr\u012bgore \u0113nect\u014ds. N\u014dlu\u012b, in \nportum admiss\u012bs, s\u0113cr\u0113ta dom\u016bs aper\u012bre: sed juss\u012b eum d\u012bcere, \n\u201ccibum i\u012bs missum \u012br\u012b,\u201d et ipsum j\u016bxt\u0101 man\u0113re. Ego \u0101ct\u016btum \nrede\u014d, tum Gelavium remitt\u014d cum cib\u014d, ux\u014dremque ejus cum spiss\u012bs \nsicc\u012bsque vestibus. Ips\u012b fr\u016bstr\u0101 c\u014dnantur ignem fov\u0113re. Fenis et \nTotopillus apud e\u014ds morantur: Gelavius illic\u014d ad m\u0113 redit: s\u012bc \njuss\u012b. Tum colloquimur. \n353. Ego aj\u014d: s\u012b per ventum n\u014dn poterunt ante noctem regred\u012b, \nnumquam regred\u012b d\u0113b\u0113re, n\u0113 pl\u016br\u0113s poste\u0101 in n\u014ds reportent, \npervulg\u0101t\u014d \u012bnsulae arc\u0101n\u014d.\u2014Is laudat c\u014dnsilium meum, modo possit \nfier\u012b. Mox addit: velle s\u0113 quidem pl\u016br\u0113s \u012bnsulae c\u012bv\u0113s; sed \ninv\u012bt\u014ds retin\u0113re, nisi vinci\u0101s, fore l\u016bbricum; nam posse \naliquand\u014d scapham meam f\u016br\u0101r\u012b.\u2014Id m\u0113 perculit, nec quidquam \nultr\u0101 d\u012bx\u012b: tamen eundem illum in sinum hospit\u0113s coerc\u0113re \nstatu\u014d. Fenis autem redi\u0113ns ait, sibi illam f\u0113minam ante\u0101 n\u014dtam \nesse, et v\u0113r\u014d d\u012bl\u0113ctam, atque ejus s\u0113 miser\u0113r\u012b. 354. Quand\u014d \nref\u014dt\u012b sunt, terti\u014d di\u0113 d\u0113 redit\u016b c\u014dnsulitur. Erat s\u0101n\u0113 \ndifficilis lintr\u012b reditus, s\u012b ventus e\u0101dem ex regi\u014dne perst\u0101ret \nfl\u0101re, quamv\u012bs cl\u0113menter. Imper\u0101v\u012b ut n\u0113m\u014d retin\u0113ret e\u014ds, n\u0113m\u014d \nabigeret, sed su\u012bs relinquerentur c\u014dnsili\u012bs. Mult\u0101s n\u014db\u012bs \ngr\u0101ti\u0101s agunt, vi\u0101tic\u014d accept\u014d, ajuntque velle s\u0113, ut pr\u012bmum \npossint, domum red\u012bre. Qu\u0101rt\u014d demum di\u0113 \u0113v\u0101nuerant, sub noctem \nregress\u012b. \n355. Haec erant in m\u0113nse M\u0101rti\u014d, neque ego tunc suspic\u0101bar qu\u014d \nm\u0113 inv\u012btum d\u012bv\u012bna d\u016bceret Pr\u014dvidentia: nam nov\u014ds col\u014dn\u014ds \narcessere pertin\u0101citer n\u014dlu\u012b, quamv\u012bs tim\u0113rem n\u0113 me\u012bs forem \nin\u012bquus: sed sollicit\u016bd\u014d \u0101cris semper m\u0113 vet\u0101bat. Continu\u0101bantur \nm\u0113ns\u0113s, et nostra omnium opera. Praeteri\u0113re su\u014d in \u014drdine \ngeni\u0101lis pluvia ac foeda tempest\u0101s: tertium jam mihi red\u012bbat \nsiccior aest\u0101tis pars. N\u014ds quidem in fr\u016bctibus colligend\u012bs tum \nmaxim\u0113 fuimus occup\u0101t\u012b. 356. \u0112n autem ips\u014d Sext\u012bl\u012b m\u0113nse, dum \ncum Calef\u014d et Totopill\u014d per r\u016bpem inc\u0113d\u014d, \u0113 salt\u016b pr\u014ddeunt duo \nvir\u012b barbar\u012b. Pistol\u0101 corrept\u0101, jube\u014d Totopillum e\u014ds compell\u0101re. \nRespondent, \u201cam\u012bc\u014ds esse s\u0113, et r\u0113gem \u012bnsulae am\u012bcissim\u0113 \npetere.\u201d Jube\u014d, me\u012b hon\u014dris caus\u0101, t\u0113la in humum pr\u014djicere: \npr\u014djiciunt. Tunc ut am\u012bc\u014ds sal\u016bt\u014d, recipere t\u0113la jube\u014d, et \nd\u012bcere c\u016br, unde, v\u0113nerint. Totopillus, parum facile, tamen \ninterpret\u0101tur resp\u014dnsa. Senior autem \u0113 du\u014dbus ill\u012bs, m\u012btis \naspect\u016b vir, qu\u012b fer\u0113 septu\u0101gint\u0101 hab\u0113re vid\u0113b\u0101tur ann\u014ds, in \nhunc modum loquitur. \u201cEgo sum Cortops. Cum qu\u012bndecim lintribus \nveni\u014d, octo et v\u012bgint\u012b famili\u012bs, ut tu\u0101 veni\u0101 cum bon\u0101 p\u0101ce \nc\u014dns\u012bd\u0101mus h\u0101c in \u012bnsul\u0101, tibi pr\u014d summ\u014d pr\u012bncipe obtemper\u0101t\u016br\u012b. \nC\u0113ter\u014ds \u012bnfr\u0101 rel\u012bqu\u012b, dum tua report\u0101mus jussa. Agrum autem ex \ntu\u0101 abundanti\u0101 \u0101 t\u0113 \u014dr\u0101mus.\u201d Quia d\u0113 r\u0113 inop\u012bn\u0101t\u0101 illic\u014d \nrespond\u0113re erat difficile, multum salv\u0113re juss\u012b; hic in salt\u016b \nrequi\u0113sceret paulisper: hon\u014dris caus\u0101 h\u014ds du\u014ds me\u014drum apud eum \nrelinqu\u012b: m\u0113 celeriter cum serv\u012bs cib\u012bsque redit\u016brum: tum n\u014ds d\u0113 \nomn\u012b h\u0101c r\u0113 l\u012bber\u0113 colloc\u016bt\u016br\u014ds. 357. Itaque d\u0113cess\u012b s\u014dlus. \nPr\u014dditum m\u0113 cr\u0113did\u012b. Gelavius sine dubi\u014d n\u016bntium Cortop\u012b per \nill\u014ds vir\u014ds m\u012bserat, quoniam m\u0113 obstin\u0101tum s\u0113nsit. Tamen s\u012b \ntr\u012bgint\u0101 vir\u012b arm\u0101t\u012b jam in terram exposit\u012b erant, per vim \nt\u0113l\u014drum male resist\u014d palam: arte et sollerti\u0101 est opus. Aut \nsu\u0101d\u0113re d\u0113be\u014d ut pr\u014dtenus abeant, aut d\u0113l\u012bber\u0101re qu\u014d tandem \npact\u014d minim\u014d cum per\u012bcul\u014d maneant, s\u012bve ad tempus, s\u012bve in \nperpetuum. 358. Interim \u012br\u0101scor Gelavi\u014d et incipi\u014d obj\u016brg\u0101re. \nIlle adm\u012br\u0101ns, obn\u012bx\u0113 ac simplicissim\u0113 negat quidquam n\u016bnti\u012b s\u0113 \naut m\u012bsisse aut missum velle; idque iter\u0101vit tam \u0101nxi\u0113, ut \nnequ\u012bverim persistere. Jam hunc cum Pach\u014d cib\u014ds ac d\u014dna aliquot \nrel\u0101t\u016brum mitt\u014d. Ipse, r\u0113g\u0101lia ass\u016bm\u0113ns, memin\u012b Fenim fuisse \nf\u0113minae ill\u012bus am\u012bcam. Igitur, miss\u0101 ad eam Lar\u012b, arcess\u014d, et \n\u012br\u0101t\u0101 v\u014dce interrog\u014d, quidnam hospit\u012b d\u012bxerit. Illa, quamquam \nmale loquer\u0113tur, tamen, quae d\u012bc\u0113bam, satis intell\u0113xit. 359. \nEff\u016bsa in lacrim\u0101s respondet, s\u0113, ab am\u012bc\u0101 su\u0101 rogit\u0101tam, anne \ncommod\u0113 s\u0113 h\u012bc hab\u0113ret, d\u012bxisse; \u201cImm\u014d optim\u0113: s\u0101n\u0113 s\u0113 esse \nbe\u0101tissimam sub benignissim\u014d ac j\u016bstissim\u014d pr\u012bncipe in \nj\u016bcundissim\u0101 \u012bnsul\u0101.\u201d T\u0101lia eam velle d\u012bcere, serm\u014dne quamv\u012bs \nincondit\u014d, intell\u0113x\u012b. \u201cAn nihil aliud d\u012bxist\u012b?\u201d interrog\u014d. \u201cS\u0101n\u0113 \npl\u016brima,\u201d inquit. Quid erg\u014d? \u201cAt ego nesci\u014d.\u201d\u2014N\u014dnne t\u016b n\u016bntium \nad Cortopem m\u012bsist\u012b, ut h\u016bc ven\u012bret? \u201cCert\u0113 nihil t\u0101le aud\u0113rem (\ninquit) neque ausa sum.\u201d Sed n\u0113minem t\u016b h\u016bc inv\u012bt\u0101st\u012b? \u201c\u014ch ere (\nrespondet), inv\u012bt\u0101v\u012b n\u0113minem; tantum, ut cr\u0113d\u014d, am\u012bcae meae \nd\u012bx\u012b,\u2014Vellem ipsam et quam pl\u016brim\u014ds me\u014drum sub optim\u014d t\u0113 \npr\u012bncipe esse be\u0101t\u014ds, velut m\u0113met.\u201d Postquam experior nihil \nultr\u0101 sc\u012bscitand\u014d extorqu\u0113r\u012b, vultum comp\u014dn\u014d: bon\u014d anim\u014d eam \nesse jube\u014d: dein \u0113gredior. 360. Inc\u0113d\u0113ns simul reput\u014d. S\u012b r\u0113 \nv\u0113r\u0101 propter f\u0101mam me\u012b, n\u014dn propter cupidit\u0101tem malam, tot vir\u012b \nveniunt; tum v\u0113r\u014d, s\u012b pr\u014drsus e\u014ds v\u0113nisse n\u014dlim, ipse m\u0113met \nobj\u016brg\u0101re d\u0113be\u014d, quod n\u014dn fuerim inj\u016bstior; neque ade\u014d sunt \ntimend\u012b, qu\u012b ad imper\u0101ta perferenda fest\u012bnant. Meae m\u0113 laud\u0113s \nfortasse \u0113molli\u0113bant: n\u016blla convincitur pr\u014dditi\u014d. Tum illud \nsurgit:\u2014quattuor ope vir\u014drum numquam h\u012bc n\u0101vem fabric\u0101bor: s\u012b \nred\u012bre ad patriam vol\u014d, per pl\u016br\u0113s id d\u0113bet c\u014dnfic\u012b. Quid s\u012b \nnunc pl\u016br\u0113s Deus ipse ad m\u0113 m\u012bsit? Egone ill\u014ds abigam, in \naeternam m\u0113met red\u0101ct\u016brus barbariem? Reput\u0101ns t\u0101lia, cum ali\u014d \npr\u014drsus anim\u014d ad Cortopem revert\u012b, qu\u012b cib\u014ds jam c\u014dnf\u0113cerat, et \ncane me\u014d, propter offul\u0101s blandient\u012b, s\u0113 oblect\u0101bat. 361. \nN\u016bnti\u0101tur mihi, c\u016bnctam ejus pl\u0113bem esse in port\u016b hort\u014drum; sub \narboribus \u0101 cal\u014dre pr\u014dteg\u012b: hab\u0113re s\u0113cum maximum z\u0113ae atque \nor\u0233zae numerum, item manioc\u0101rum; coria quoque comport\u0101re et \nmaxim\u0101s vest\u0113s, teget\u0113sque quae malignam imbrium vim possint \narc\u0113re: quadr\u0101gint\u0101 du\u014ds vir\u014ds puer\u014dsve esse, septem et \nqu\u012bnqu\u0101gint\u0101 f\u0113min\u0101s: Cortopis omn\u0113s dict\u014d oboed\u012bre: ipsum \nCortopem mihi profect\u014d velle submitt\u012b, c\u014dnstanter autem \u0101 m\u0113 \n\u014dr\u0101re s\u0113dem id\u014dneam.\u2014Resp\u014dnsum f\u0113c\u012b pl\u0113num benevolenti\u0101. \nPollicitus sum, illic\u014d m\u0113 d\u0113miss\u016brum, qu\u012b ligna sec\u0101ret in \nfoc\u014ds, atque alterum qu\u012b pl\u016bra \u2e24cib\u014d commoda\u2e25 distribueret, \nvelut oleum, s\u0101l, ar\u014dmata: tertium qu\u012b \u014dll\u0101s c\u0101cab\u014dsque ferret. \nInterim m\u0113 d\u0113 s\u0113de dand\u0101 medit\u0101t\u016brum.\u2014Mox n\u014ds red\u012bmus cavern\u0101s \nversus, duo ill\u012b vir\u012b ad su\u014ds. Quand\u014d animadvert\u012b auram extr\u0101 \n\u014drdinem \u0101 mer\u012bdi\u0113 continu\u0101r\u012b modicam, melius c\u0113nse\u014d ut in scaph\u0101 \n\u2e24Gelavius cum patre socer\u014dque\u2e25 supellectilem ac cibum portet. \nGelavius \u2e24min\u014dribus gemm\u012bs fulg\u0113ns\u2e25 m\u0113 repraesentat. Hic lignum \nsecat, ill\u012b prandium properant. 362. Ego autem sub s\u0113ric\u0101 \numbell\u0101 propter fastum ac cal\u014drem t\u0113ctus, ad Capr\u012bnum jugum \nd\u0113flect\u014d, atque, inde pr\u014dspect\u0101ns, novae col\u014dniae d\u0113cern\u014d longam \nillam \u014dram subter jug\u014d, cum pr\u012bm\u014d sin\u016b citr\u0101 L\u016bn\u0101tam Viam, s\u012b e\u014d \nquoque eg\u0113rent. Sed \u014dra illa facile suffect\u016bra erat. Postul\u014d ut \nseptimus quisque di\u0113s pr\u014d f\u0113st\u014d habe\u0101tur; ut, quot possint, ill\u014d \ndi\u0113 c\u014dram m\u0113 veniant; ut Cortops quater in ann\u014d, ad minimum, m\u0113 \nvener\u0101t\u016brus adeat; ut mea lingua pr\u014d imper\u0101t\u014dri\u0101 lingu\u0101 \naestim\u0113tur, quam c\u016bnct\u012b, ut pr\u012bmum possint, discant \u0113loqu\u012b. H\u012bs \naccept\u012bs l\u0113gibus, proxim\u014d di\u0113 circumr\u0113migant, suamque capiunt \ns\u0113dem. \n363. Paul\u014d post cl\u0101rius d\u0113not\u014d; quidquid sit ill\u0101 in \u014dr\u0101, \nCortopis esse, sine \u016bll\u0101 excepti\u014dne. Qu\u0101slibet av\u0113s, qu\u014dslibet \npisc\u0113s, ill\u0101 tantum in \u014dr\u0101, pr\u014d su\u012bs oport\u0113re eum aestim\u0101re. S\u012bn \nultr\u0101 l\u012bneam altissim\u012b jug\u012b Capr\u012bn\u012b voluerit v\u0113n\u0101r\u012b aut fr\u016bctum \nterrae percipere, id m\u0113cum amplius d\u0113l\u012bberandum. S\u012b quid in \nmonte velit s\u0113min\u0101r\u012b, id l\u012bberum esse; et quidquid coluerit \nquispiam, id fore cult\u014dris.\u2014H\u0101s quoque l\u0113g\u0113s comprob\u0101runt: tum \nego sollicit\u016bdinem d\u0113p\u014dn\u0113bam. \n364. Mox lig\u014dn\u0113s, sec\u016br\u0113s, dol\u0101br\u0101s pl\u016brim\u0101s d\u0113lig\u014d, item marr\u0101s \naliquot et cultr\u014ds m\u0113ns\u0101l\u0113s, qu\u014ds Cortop\u012b d\u014dn\u014d dem, suae pl\u0113b\u012b \nad suum arbitrium distribuend\u014ds. Cultrum, furcam et cochle\u0101re, \nsplendidi\u014dre speci\u0113, ips\u012b d\u0113stin\u014d Cortop\u012b. Sacchar\u012b aliquantum \net ole\u012b add\u014d, item ar\u014dmata. H\u0101s r\u0113s ille cupidissim\u0113 ac mult\u012bs \ncum gr\u0101ti\u012bs accipit. Tum, n\u0113 gemm\u012bs Gelavius prael\u016bceat, mon\u012bl\u012b \npulchrius vari\u0101t\u014d ex\u014drn\u014d Cortopem. 365. Poste\u0101 aliud quiddam \nmihi arrog\u014d:\u2014S\u012b host\u0113s hanc in \u012bnsulam d\u0113scendant, ut sub \nCortope c\u016bnct\u012b imper\u0101ta mea perficiant, c\u014dnferantque subsidia \nbell\u012b.\u2014Id quoque facile conc\u0113ditur. Tum citrea atque aurea m\u0101la, \ncoc\u014ds nuc\u0113s \u016bv\u0101sque sicc\u0101t\u0101s, et c\u014dnserv\u0101t\u0101rum ananass\u0101rum \u014dll\u0101s \nad Cortopem d\u0113mitt\u014d.\nCAPUT (XIII.) TREDECIMUM.\n366. Jamque post violentam concit\u0101ti\u014dnem r\u0113s ad su\u014ds curs\u016bs \nredi\u0113re. S\u0113decim post di\u0113bus aest\u0101s procell\u012bs abrumpitur: piget \nm\u0113 quod cavern\u012bs hospit\u0113s carent. Ego autem d\u0113 me\u0101 lingu\u0101 \nintr\u016bdend\u0101 praesertim sollicit\u0101bar. Pr\u012bma mea col\u014dnia et linguam \nn\u014dn absurd\u0113 et litter\u0101s parc\u0113 didicerat: nunc meditor qu\u014d possim \npact\u014d e\u0101sdem novae pl\u0113b\u012b impert\u012bre. Quand\u014d cum Gelavi\u014d \ncolloquor, rogat ille, utrum velim eum assent\u012br\u012b oboedienter, an \nloqu\u012b l\u012bber\u0113. L\u012bber\u0113 autem (inquam) loqu\u012b. 367. Tum \u012bnfit: \u201cN\u014ds, \nere, tua familia, t\u0113 et multum aud\u012bvimus et vald\u0113 am\u0101mus: igitur \nin lingu\u0101 litter\u012bsque pr\u014df\u0113cimus melius. Tamen nimius fuit ille \nc\u014dn\u0101tus, nec nisi propter tu\u012b am\u014drem toler\u0101bilis. Du\u0101s r\u0113s \u016bn\u0101 \npostul\u0101s, utramque difficilem. Cr\u0113de mihi, long\u0113 praestat, ut d\u0113 \nlingu\u0101 tu\u0101 paulum differ\u0101tur. Nostram potius n\u014ds linguam pr\u012bmum \nlitter\u012bs exprimere disc\u0101mus: poste\u0101 quidquid \u0113 tu\u0101 didicerint \nlingu\u0101 (et discent multa paul\u0101tim) cupient ips\u012b scr\u012bbere.\u201d 368. \nHaec audi\u0113ns, quasi obstupu\u012b. Quid? (inquam): t\u016bne linguam \nbarbaram v\u012bs litter\u012bs effingere, et quantum poss\u012bs, in perpetuum \nd\u0113f\u012bgere?\u2014\u0100criter respondet: \u201cNostrae t\u016b, ere, nescius es \nlinguae, qu\u012b barbaram voc\u0101s. Lingua est c\u014dpi\u014dsa, d\u0113lic\u0101ta, \nsubt\u012blis, tenerrima, son\u014d mollissima, \u016bs\u016b gravissima: imm\u014d, \nquantum conjicere possim, tu\u0101 s\u0101n\u0113 praestantior.\u201d Quid ais? \ninquam. Ego n\u014dn n\u014dv\u012b tuam linguam: r\u0113ct\u0113 d\u012bcis. Sed c\u016br cr\u0113dis \neam meae antecellere? \u201c\u0112n (ait) quand\u014d t\u016b N\u014ds d\u012bcis, ego illud \nN\u014ds per quattuor voc\u0101bula interpretor. Nam aut Ego ac t\u016b valet, \naut Ego atque ille, aut Ego ac v\u014ds, aut Ego atque ill\u012b. H\u012bc \nquattuor sunt, quae tua lingua in \u016bnum illud N\u014ds c\u014dnfundit; \nnostra pulcherrim\u0113 distinguit Bini, Bili, Binir, Bilir. N\u014dnne \nhanc r\u0113ct\u0113 d\u012bc\u014d magis h\u012bc esse subt\u012blem, acc\u016br\u0101tam, c\u014dpi\u014dsam?\u201d \nAssentior. \u201cItem V\u014ds (pergit d\u012bcere) du\u0101s c\u014dnfundit r\u0113s; nam aut \nvalet T\u016b cum c\u0113ter\u012bs qu\u014ds compell\u014d, aut T\u016b cum quibusdam \nabsentibus. H\u012bc iterum nostr\u0101t\u0113s duo habent voc\u0101bula, Vinir, \nDinir. Jam t\u016b d\u0113 fronte contrahend\u0101 loqueris; \u016bnam hanc \u0101 t\u0113 \ndidic\u012b loc\u016bti\u014dnem: n\u014ds quattuor hab\u0113mus verba simplicia. Nam \nfrontem contrah\u014d aut propter l\u016bcem nimiam, aut medit\u0101bundus, aut \ncum maer\u014dre, aut cum maliti\u0101: n\u014ds quadrif\u0101riam d\u012bcimus ac \nsimpliciter.\u201d Perge ultr\u0101, (inquam). \u201cDeinde t\u016b (inquit) d\u0113 \nd\u0113mittend\u014d capite loqueris: n\u014ds septem vel amplius mod\u012bs hoc \npr\u014dn\u016bnti\u0101mus. Nam caput d\u0113mitt\u014d, pr\u012bmum ut host\u012ble t\u0113lum vel \nr\u0101mum arboris d\u0113v\u012btem: deinde, ut venerer aliquem; tum, ut \nac\u016btius pr\u014dspeculer; qu\u0101rt\u014d, ut ass\u0113nsum d\u0113notem; qu\u012bnt\u014d, \npropter pud\u014drem; sext\u014d, per obstin\u0101tam contum\u0101ciam; septim\u014d, in \naqu\u0101s d\u0113sc\u0113ns\u016brus; item oct\u0101v\u014d, salt\u0101ns. \u0112n octo nostr\u0101tium \nvoc\u0101bula, Metic, Rodic, Fiarilic, Duthic, Lianic, Shanfic, \nMadiric, Reutic.\u201d\u2014Imm\u014d, Gelav\u012b! (inquam interpell\u0101ns) linguam t\u016b \nmeam parum n\u014dvist\u012b: nam n\u014ds Annuere adhib\u0113mus, ass\u0113nsum capitis \nd\u0113miss\u012b d\u0113notant\u0113s. 369. \u201cV\u0113rissim\u0113 d\u012bxist\u012b illud, ere! (\nrespondet). N\u014dn n\u014dv\u012b tuam linguam, neque umquam pl\u0113n\u0113 n\u014dver\u014d, \nnisi s\u012b possem ren\u0101sc\u012b, et cum lacte m\u0101tris c\u0101rissim\u0101s v\u014dc\u0113s \nhaur\u012bre; nisi possem cum puer\u012bs iterum coll\u016bdere, in vestr\u012bs \nl\u016bd\u012bs litter\u0101ri\u012bs discere; nisi possem in conti\u014dne sapientium \nfervida capt\u0101re verba, atque in for\u014d, ubi r\u0113s v\u0113nditis, mult\u014ds \nper m\u0113ns\u0113s n\u016bndin\u0101r\u012b. Nisi d\u0113 nov\u014d possem m\u0101tris, sor\u014dris \nc\u0101rit\u0101tem discere, et su\u0101v\u0113s am\u014dris susurr\u014ds nunc pr\u012bmum tu\u0101 in \nlingu\u0101 aud\u012bre, numquam s\u012bc ego complectar eam, ut t\u016b corde atque \nanim\u014d complecteris.\u201d Fateor; vehementi\u0101 ejus perculsus sum. \nNihil t\u0101le expect\u0101veram: itaque reticu\u012b. Tum addit,\u2014\u201c\u014c ere, n\u014dl\u012b \nsucc\u0113ns\u0113re: sed ita s\u0113 r\u0113s habet. Lingua tua n\u014db\u012bs in meram \nmentem venit, quasi cum fr\u012bgid\u0101 l\u016bce. Nostra pectus tangit, \nanimum \u0113rigit. Ut tuam n\u014ds, quantum poss\u012bmus, disc\u0101mus linguam, \naequissim\u0113 postul\u0101s; sed nostram quae tenerrim\u012bs n\u014ds memori\u012bs \nperfundit, n\u014dl\u012b s\u012bc surripere n\u014db\u012bs, ut tuam manc\u0113 \napprehend\u0101mus, fortasse foed\u0113 lacer\u0113mus.\u201d \n370. Numquam ante\u0101 suspic\u0101tus eram, quam sua cuique gent\u012b \npreti\u014dsa esset lingua. Post paul\u014d fassus sum, male m\u0113 \nc\u014dnsuluisse, Gelavium r\u0113ct\u0113 j\u016bdic\u0101re: itaque jube\u014d, s\u012b possit, \npopul\u0101r\u0113s su\u014ds \u0113doc\u0113re, qu\u014d pact\u014d ips\u014drum linguam litter\u012bs \nexprimant. Tum ille \u0101 m\u0113 opem \u014drat. D\u012bcit, me\u012bs litter\u012bs ill\u014drum \nson\u014ds n\u014dn omn\u012bn\u014d congruere; proptere\u0101, s\u0113 haer\u0113re. Equidem n\u014dn \nmodo Lusit\u0101nic\u0113 multa d\u0113 orthographi\u0101 (quam appellant) \nc\u014dgit\u0101veram; sed prius, quand\u014d Maur\u016bsi\u0113 disc\u0113bam loqu\u012b, omnia \nEur\u014dpae\u012bs c\u014dnscr\u012bb\u0113bam litter\u012bs, m\u016bt\u0101t\u012bs addit\u012bsque aliquot \nf\u014drm\u012bs. 371. Igitur fer\u0113 centum aud\u012bt\u012bs perscr\u012bpt\u012bsque v\u014dcibus, \ntandem quum autumat omn\u0113s linguae son\u014ds s\u0113 mihi pr\u014dn\u016bnti\u0101sse, \nfacile e\u012b t\u014dtam seriem explic\u014d. Hoc ubi pl\u016brif\u0101riam prob\u0101vit, \ncr\u0113diditque rem c\u014dnfectam, t\u014dtum gregem nostrum \u0113docet; ill\u012b \nalacriter arripiunt. Poste\u0101, di\u0113 Domin\u012b, quand\u014d c\u0113ter\u012b \nconveniunt, incipit h\u014drulam dare huic re\u012b impertiendae. Ego \nautem ill\u014d di\u0113 conti\u014dnor d\u0113 r\u0113bus pl\u016bribus, quae possint ment\u0113s \nstimul\u0101re, excolere, firm\u0101re. 372. Illud laetus vide\u014d, n\u014dn esse \ns\u0113gn\u0113s h\u014ds barbar\u014ds neque ventr\u012b aut t\u0113m\u0113t\u014d d\u0113dit\u014ds. Etenim \nv\u0113l\u014dc\u0113s esse et arm\u012bs str\u0113nu\u014ds, id c\u016bnct\u012b pr\u014d p\u016bblic\u014d offici\u014d \naestim\u0101bant. Sed l\u016bd\u014ds s\u0113dul\u014d i\u012bs commend\u014d. F\u0113minae nostrae \nquot\u012bdi\u0113 nat\u0101bant, sed su\u014d in grege: n\u014ds vir\u012b jam \u2e24dumtaxat \nextr\u0101 portum\u2e25 nat\u0101mus. Ego s\u012bc juss\u012b: namque ips\u012bs n\u014dn interesse \nvid\u0113b\u0101tur. 373. At ego jam d\u0113cern\u014d, igne\u014drum t\u0113l\u014drum \u016bsum \nGelavi\u014d ac Totopill\u014d impert\u012bre, qu\u014d t\u016btior f\u012bam. Id summ\u014d cum \ngaudi\u014d accipiunt, ut documentum f\u012bd\u016bciae meae. Pulveris nitr\u0101t\u012b \nquia parcissimus fueram, aliquantum etiam rest\u0101bat. Hoc repar\u0101r\u012b \nposse d\u0113sp\u0113r\u0101ns, quidquid potest sine dispendi\u014d pulveris doc\u0113r\u012b, \n\u0113doce\u014d, atque ill\u012b \u0101cerrim\u0113 artem meam assequ\u012b c\u014dnantur. \nTotopillus d\u0113 pulveris ill\u012bus compositi\u014dne \u0101criter exqu\u012brit. \nCarb\u014dnem facile explic\u014d; sed quid sit nitrum, quid sulfur, \nneque\u014d interpret\u0101r\u012b; nec, propter imm\u0101ne per\u012bculum, vellem eum \ncomp\u014dnend\u012b exper\u012bment\u012bs s\u0113 objicere. Itaque hoc pr\u014d arc\u0101n\u014d \nrelinquitur. 374. H\u0101c aest\u0101te ego ac Pachus in p\u0113nsilibus lect\u012bs \nsuper r\u016bpe dorm\u012bver\u0101mus: c\u0113ter\u012b tr\u0113s cum ux\u014dribus m\u0101lunt in \ncavern\u012bs man\u0113re; neque ego prohibe\u014d. Pachum pr\u014d comite m\u0113cum \nass\u016bm\u014d. \n375. Inter haec subita r\u0113s iterum rotam meae v\u012btae convertit, et \nd\u0113mum m\u0113 parentibus, mihi patriam reddidit. Ante l\u016bcem, terti\u014d \nante \u012ad\u016bs Decembr\u0113s, bombus cann\u014dnis m\u0113 experg\u0113facit. Iter\u0101tur \nter quaterque. Agn\u014dsc\u014d signum n\u0101vis, quae opem in per\u012bcul\u014d \u014drat. \nPr\u012bm\u0101 l\u016bce per pr\u014dspeculum contemplor, vide\u014dque n\u0101vem magnam, \nquae in ar\u0113n\u012bs long\u0113 \u0101 terr\u0101 haeret. Arbitror ill\u0101s ips\u0101s esse \nar\u0113n\u0101s, ubi, quattuor ante ann\u012bs amplius, nostra n\u0101vis s\u0113 \nimp\u0113git, c\u014dnfr\u0113gitque m\u0101l\u014ds. Attentius observ\u0101ns, cr\u0113d\u014d \u016bnum \nm\u0101l\u014drum esse c\u014dnfractum. Mox v\u0113xillum discern\u014d: id erat \nAnglicum. Tum m\u012br\u014d gaudi\u014d, maer\u014dre, sp\u0113 afficior. 376. Mare erat \ntranquillissimum: vix \u016blla tum fl\u0101bat aura. Aci\u0113 ocul\u014drum \ncontent\u0101, per pr\u014dspeculum nihil vide\u014d m\u014dt\u016bs neque \u012bnstantis \nper\u012bcul\u012b. Tum illud succurrit: Quidn\u012b possumus, pl\u016bribus \nconn\u012btentibus scaph\u012bs, remulc\u012bs n\u0101vem ex ar\u0113n\u0101 d\u0113trahere? \nGelavium jube\u014d proper\u0101re ad Cortopem, et me\u014d n\u014dmine imp\u0113ns\u0113 \nrog\u0101re, ut lintr\u0113s su\u0101s c\u016bnct\u0101s cum r\u0113migibus r\u014dbustissim\u012bsque \nremulc\u012bs ad n\u0101vem mitteret, atque \u2e24\u0101 m\u0113 dicta\u2e25 e\u014ds accipere \njub\u0113ret. 377. Pr\u014dtenus ego cum Totopill\u014d et Calef\u014d Pach\u014dque in \nscapham ingredior: n\u014ds quattuor r\u0113mig\u0101mus, quoniam ventus deest. \nCibum n\u014dndum gust\u0101ver\u0101mus, sed comport\u0101r\u012b juss\u012b quidquid esset \nin pr\u014dmpt\u016b. Pr\u012bm\u012b ad n\u0101vem pertingimus, mox Anglic\u0101 v\u014dce \nexqu\u012br\u014d, ubinam sit praefectus n\u0101vis. Ill\u012b m\u012br\u0101bund\u012b, et \nlaetant\u0113s quamquam tant\u014d in per\u012bcul\u014d, eum \u0113vocant. N\u0101rrat mihi, \nid quod ipse dispexeram. In l\u012btus, nocte utique tranquill\u0101, \nincurrerant, fr\u0113gerantque m\u0101lum anteri\u014drem. Etiam tum haer\u0113bant, \ntim\u0113bantque n\u0113 surgente vent\u014d obruerentur. D\u012bc\u014d m\u0113 jussisse \nlintr\u0113s r\u0113mig\u0113sque tract\u016br\u014ds ven\u012bre, s\u012b forte id opis esse \nposset. Tum certi\u014drem m\u0113 facit, fundum n\u0101vis esse solidum, neque \nadm\u012bsisse aquam. Mox \u0101 magistr\u014d bolidem peti\u012b, et \u0101 scaph\u0101 me\u0101 \ntent\u0101bam aqu\u0101s. Sex ulnae n\u0101v\u012b suffici\u0113bant. Me\u0101ns reme\u0101nsque in \nscaph\u0101, submar\u012bn\u012b aggeris f\u012bnem d\u012bmidi\u014d fer\u0113 h\u014drae satis \ncomper\u012b. Jam autem tredecim perv\u0113n\u0113re lintr\u0113s. Magister m\u0113 \ndoc\u0113bat, quot remulc\u012bs esset opus: ipse aff\u012bgit, f\u016bn\u0113sque ex su\u014d \naddit. Saburram tr\u0101movet, part\u0113s n\u0101vis affl\u012bct\u0101s lev\u0101ns. Ejus \ndicta per m\u0113 et Gelavium tr\u0101duntur. R\u0113m\u012bs incumbunt, gravius \nquam violentius pr\u012bm\u014d. Remulc\u012b tenduntur, str\u012bdent. Excl\u0101mat \nGelavius: cr\u0113d\u014d eum prohibuisse nimium intend\u012b. Iterum; ter; \nquater incumbunt: d\u0113mum n\u014dn fr\u016bstr\u0101 esse vide\u014d. M\u014dtus quidem \nn\u0101vis exiguus app\u0101ret, aug\u0113scit, continu\u0101tur: tandem cl\u0101mor \ngaudentium exoritur: n\u0101vis vad\u014d d\u0113trahitur et pr\u014dtenus bene \nnatat. 379. Tum magister \u0101 m\u0113 gubern\u0101t\u014drem petit, qu\u012b in t\u016btum \naliquem locum n\u0101vem d\u0113d\u016bcat, d\u014dnec m\u0101lus erit resartus. Multum \nille m\u012br\u0101tur, quum responde\u014d, \u201cn\u0113min\u012b c\u0113ter\u014drum quidquam d\u0113 h\u014dc \nmar\u012b esse n\u014dtum, m\u0113 s\u014dlum l\u012btoris aliquam hab\u0113re n\u014dtitiam.\u201d \nR\u0113migibus per Gelavium indic\u014d, sp\u0113r\u0101re m\u0113 rem r\u0113ct\u0113 pr\u014dcess\u016bram: \nmult\u0101s m\u0113 agere gr\u0101ti\u0101s: sed par\u0101t\u012b sint iterum adjuv\u0101re, s\u012b \niterum sit opus. Interim aura diurna \u0101 mar\u012b surr\u0113xerat, et, \nv\u0113l\u012bs aliquot praetent\u012bs, tardiuscul\u0113 mov\u0113b\u0101tur n\u0101vis. Ego in \nscaph\u0101, profundit\u0101tem semper praetent\u0101ns, fl\u016bmen versus, in quod \npr\u012bmam meam d\u012br\u0113x\u012b ratem, s\u0113nsim d\u0113d\u016bc\u0113bam. Sed quoniam tempus \nprocell\u014dsum long\u0113 aberat, su\u0101s\u012b ut ancoram extr\u0101 jaceret, deinde \nper su\u014ds naut\u0101s expl\u014dr\u0101ret \u014dstium. Ass\u0113nsus est. Tum ego me\u014ds \nvir\u014ds cum scaph\u0101 domum remitt\u014d, ipse in n\u0101v\u012b mane\u014d colloqui\u012b \ngr\u0101ti\u0101. 380. Pr\u014dtenus magister quaerit, anne novum possit m\u0101lum \napud n\u014ds emere. Responde\u014d: \u201cImm\u014d, sec\u0101re. Esse pl\u016brim\u0101s supr\u0101 \narbor\u0113s, m\u0101l\u012bs id\u014dne\u0101s; qu\u0101s succ\u012bs\u0101s posse facile in vallem \nd\u0113tr\u016bd\u012b, et, in r\u012bp\u0101 fl\u016bminis d\u0113dol\u0101t\u0101s, aqu\u0101 veh\u012b ad n\u0101vem. In \n\u014dsti\u014d fl\u016bminis t\u016btissimum esse portum vel furentibus procell\u012bs, \nmodo profundit\u0101s aquae n\u0101vem admittat.\u201d 381. Jam quaerit, anne \ncib\u014ds praeb\u0113re poss\u012bmus. Id v\u0113r\u014d pr\u014dmitt\u014d. Illic\u014d jubet prandium \nomnibus app\u014dn\u012b l\u012bberius, n\u0101rratque parcius per pl\u016br\u0113s di\u0113s \ncom\u0113disse c\u016bnct\u014ds, quia metuerant inopiam. Ego v\u0113r\u014d interrog\u014d, \nqu\u0101r\u0113 h\u0101s in regi\u014dn\u0113s v\u0113nerint, utrum gn\u0101r\u012b an inv\u012bt\u012b. Ille \npostquam quaedam imper\u0101vit, seorsum ductum humil\u012b m\u0113 v\u014dce \ncompellat. 382. \u201cT\u016b m\u0113 (inquit) vald\u0113 adj\u016bv\u0101st\u012b; erg\u014d l\u012bber\u0113 \nloquar. Merc\u0113s ego Anglic\u0101s \u0101 Bristoli\u0101 ad Jamaicam d\u0113b\u0113bam \nport\u0101re. Propter vim vent\u012b in Corragiam H\u012bbern\u014drum c\u014dnfugere sum \nco\u0101ctus.\u201d Ibi aliquot me\u014drum naut\u0101rum maj\u014dre merc\u0113de mihi \nsurripit alius qu\u012bdam n\u0101vis magister. Tum ali\u014ds ex necessit\u0101te \nacc\u0113p\u012b, qu\u0101l\u0113s ipse locus dabat, merc\u0113n\u0101ri\u014ds naut\u0101s, qu\u014drum tr\u0113s \nerant vald\u0113 improb\u012b. Multa m\u014dlient\u0113s, s\u0113diti\u014dnem ser\u0113bant et \nbon\u014drum pervert\u0113re ment\u0113s. Tandem coort\u012b, in cat\u0113n\u0101s m\u0113 ded\u0113re, \nquum maxim\u0113 er\u0101mus in Occident\u0101lis Indiae mar\u012b. Quid d\u0113 m\u0113 \nfacere voluerint, nesci\u014d; sed c\u0113ter\u012b nautae nihil gravius in m\u0113 \nc\u014dnsul\u012b pati\u0113bantur. Ocul\u014ds Eur\u014dpae\u014drum fugient\u0113s, inter \nbarbar\u014ds (ut op\u012bnor) s\u0113 vol\u0113bant recondere, cr\u0113d\u0113bantque s\u0113 \nposse d\u012bt\u0113scere, d\u012bv\u0113ndit\u012bs me\u012bs mercibus. \u016an\u0101 ex \u014dr\u0101 optimam \naquae c\u014dpiam assec\u016bt\u012b sunt, absentibus barbar\u012bs; mox, ubi cib\u014ds \nvol\u0113bant emere, ort\u014d j\u016brgi\u014d, duo \u0113 n\u0101v\u0101libus soci\u012bs occ\u012bs\u012b sunt, \nqu\u014drum \u016bnus callidissimus erat \u0113 tribus ill\u012bs improb\u012bs. C\u0113ter\u012b, \nqu\u012b cum scaph\u0101 erant, aegr\u0113 eff\u016bg\u0113re. Duo ill\u012b, qu\u012b rest\u0101bant \u0113 \npessim\u012bs, homin\u0113s imper\u012bt\u012b, v\u012b ac min\u012bs ac c\u014dnsu\u0113t\u016bdine qu\u0101dam \nn\u0101vem reg\u0113bant, quamquam cael\u012b ac maris et chart\u0101rum mar\u012bn\u0101rum \nign\u0101r\u012b. Cib\u014ds iterum ac ter fr\u016bstr\u0101 quaes\u012bv\u0113re: propter inopiam \naliment\u014drum c\u0113ter\u012b murmur\u0101bant: d\u0113mum proxim\u0101 nocte sub aur\u014dram \nin ar\u0113n\u0101s incurrimus. Tum v\u0113r\u014d imper\u012btiae h\u014drum hominum \nsucc\u0113nsent\u0113s, nautae e\u014ds cat\u0113n\u012bs vinciunt, m\u0113 l\u012bberant, \u014drantque \nut sont\u0113s p\u016bniam, c\u0113ter\u014ds \u0101 per\u012bcul\u014d l\u012bberem. Ego statim \ncann\u014dn\u0113s opem \u014drant\u0113s person\u0101re juss\u012b: illud restat, ut s\u012b \npossim, quod male factum est, resarciam. Jam autem, d\u012bc mihi, (\nquod maxim\u012b est) quot grad\u016bs terrestris longit\u016bdinis h\u012bc \nhabe\u0101mus. 383. Paene r\u012bs\u012b, quum haec m\u0113 interrog\u0101ret. Responde\u014d: \nillum \u0101 me\u014d vest\u012bt\u016b posse conject\u0101re, quant\u0101 in barbari\u0113 verser. \nLoc\u012b s\u0101n\u0113 l\u0101tit\u016bdinem, st\u0113ll\u012bs observ\u0101t\u012bs, cogn\u014dsse m\u0113; \nlongit\u016bdinem (quam appellant math\u0113matic\u012b) pr\u014drsus nesc\u012bre. Id \ntantum m\u0113 hab\u0113re cognitum, ad Occidentem n\u014ds d\u0113gere, ultr\u0101 \nultimum Orinoc\u014dnis \u014dstium.\u2014Ille ait, etiam hoc cogn\u014dsse, magn\u012b \nreferre. 384. Mox interrog\u014d, anne velit m\u0113 in patriam report\u0101re. \nIs c\u014dnfirmat, maxim\u014d illud sibi gaudi\u014d fore; nec gr\u0101ti\u012bs modo \nrevect\u016brum; nam propter serv\u0101tam n\u0101vem magnum mihi \u0101 s\u0113 su\u012bsque \nd\u0113b\u0113r\u012b praemium. Tum juss\u012b, d\u0113 \u2e24h\u014dc quod d\u012bc\u0113bam\u2e25 retic\u0113re; \njamque m\u0113 in su\u0101 scaph\u0101 ad terram vehere, ut d\u0113 cib\u012bs \ncomparand\u012bs imper\u0101rem. 385. \u016and\u0113v\u012bgint\u012b vir\u012b in n\u0101ve erant: \ncarnem recentem Angl\u012bs cr\u0113d\u014d fore libentibus. Totopill\u014d d\u012bc\u014d, s\u012b \nlaque\u012bs porcill\u014ds, lepor\u0113s av\u0113sve possit capere, quam pl\u016brim\u014ds \ncapiat, ac v\u012bv\u014ds. Pachum ac Calefum, trah\u0101 ac trahul\u0101 \u0113duct\u0101 (\nill\u0101 du\u014dbus j\u016bment\u012bs, h\u0101c \u016bn\u014d) m\u0113cum ad coll\u0113s Capr\u012bn\u014ds ven\u012bre \njube\u014d; Larim Fenimque in calath\u014ds pl\u016br\u0113s fiscell\u0101sque comp\u014dnere \ndiosc\u014dre\u0101s, manioc\u0101s, ban\u0101n\u0101s, dactyl\u014ds, ali\u014dsque fr\u016bct\u016bs vel \nleg\u016bmina: Upim c\u0101se\u014ds pr\u014dmere qu\u014ds hab\u0113bat pl\u016brim\u014ds, et quidquid \npiscium sale cond\u012btum reserv\u0101verat,\u2014s\u012b id quoque naut\u012bs \u016bsu\u012b \nforet. \u014cva gall\u012bn\u0101cea mihi n\u014dn erant: pull\u012bs avibus parcendum \nd\u0113cr\u0113v\u012b. D\u0113nique Gelavium ad Cortopem mitt\u014d, \u014dr\u0101ns ut s\u012b quid \naut z\u0113ae aut or\u0233zae possit sine su\u014drum d\u0113tr\u012bment\u014d tr\u0101dere, id \nme\u0101 gr\u0101ti\u0101 n\u0101v\u012b convehendum praebeat. \n386. Pachum ac Calefum jam summ\u0101 in r\u016bpe offend\u012b opperient\u0113s. \nCapr\u0101rum silvestrium agr\u014ds versus \u012bmus r\u0113ct\u0101, usque e\u014d ubi \npropter asperit\u0101tem sax\u014drum n\u016bll\u0101 erat trah\u012bs via. Tum Pachum \njube\u014d quam occultissim\u0113, m\u014dre barbar\u014drum, p\u014dne saxa \u012bnserpere, \nd\u014dnec gregem aliquem intr\u0101 t\u0113l\u012b conjectum videat. Ignipult\u0101s \ndu\u0101s i\u012bs tr\u0101dideram portand\u0101s: \u016bna erat bituba mea. Amb\u0101s jam \nsufferci\u014d. Ut Pachus recurrit, pr\u014dgredior caut\u0113, ets\u012b neutiquam \nfug\u0101c\u0113s erant hae ferae. \u0112 duplice tub\u014d bis maxim\u0101 celerit\u0101te \njacul\u0101tus, du\u0101s antilop\u0101s occ\u012bd\u014d. T\u014dtus grex aufugit; sed \npropter f\u014drmam loc\u014drum n\u014dn poterat extr\u0101 jactum extempl\u014d \n\u0113v\u0101n\u0113scere. Alter\u0101 ignipult\u0101 d\u0113 Calef\u014d arrept\u0101, tertium pr\u014dtenus \nd\u0113jici\u014d mortuum: is m\u0101s fuit, grandis ille quidem, qu\u012b \nrestiterat hostem c\u014dnspect\u016brus. J\u016bmenta nostra paxill\u012bs \nd\u0113stin\u0101ver\u0101mus: e\u014d jam necesse erat praedam d\u0113port\u0101re. Calefus \net Pachus, conn\u012bs\u012b, satis aegr\u0113 humer\u012bs su\u012bs capr\u0101s, \u016bnam post \nalteram, d\u0113ferunt. Caprum antilopam vide\u014d nimium fore: qu\u0101r\u0113 \negomet, oner\u012b submissus, adjuv\u014d. S\u012bc per trium vir\u014drum n\u012bs\u016bs hic \nquoque in trahulam comp\u014dnitur: dein pr\u014dtinus domum e\u014ds remitt\u014d. \n387. Egomet lacum versus proper\u014d, ut \u0101nser\u0113s vel ferum ol\u014drem \nreportem. Ipsam ad lac\u016bs \u014dram numquam pertigeram: ibi nunc \nol\u014dr\u0113s vide\u014d maxim\u014ds. Anne pisc\u0113s comedant, anne car\u014d sit bona, \nnesci\u014d; cr\u0113d\u014d tamen pisc\u0113s \u0113 dulc\u012b aqu\u0101 n\u014dn nocit\u016br\u014ds gustu\u012b. \nItaque igne conject\u014d maximum \u0101litem, qu\u012b vix in margine erat \naquae, occ\u012bd\u014d; quem, quamquam canis n\u014dn aderat, facile assequor. \nHunc report\u0101v\u012b humer\u012bs me\u012bs, incommodum s\u0101n\u0113 onus. 388. Ad \ncavern\u0101s Cortopem offend\u014d, qu\u012b colloc\u016bt\u016brus d\u0113 z\u0113\u0101 et or\u0233z\u0101 \nv\u0113nerat. \u0100 Pach\u014d vult discere, quanta sit secundae sp\u0113s messis; \nitem \u0101 Totopill\u014d quantam vim r\u0101d\u012bcum esculent\u0101rum, aut \u0101 n\u014db\u012bs \nsatam, aut genitam in vallibus, d\u0113be\u0101mus exspect\u0101re. Certior d\u0113 \nh\u012bs r\u0113bus factus, d\u0113cr\u0113vit et z\u0113am et or\u0233zam praeb\u0113re satis \nl\u012bber\u0101liter. Eum magn\u014d cum hon\u014dre excipi\u014d, \u014dr\u014dque ut ad c\u0113nam \nmaneat. Pl\u016br\u0113s r\u0113s in m\u016bs\u0113\u014d nunc pr\u012bmum e\u012b exhibe\u014d. 389. Inter \nhaec perv\u0113nit Totopillus cum n\u0101vis magistr\u014d. Magister breviter \nait, \u014cstium fl\u016bminis \u0101 s\u0113 esse expl\u014dr\u0101tum; satis superque esse \naquae profundae; cr\u0101s cum aest\u016b maris velle s\u0113 intr\u0101re. \u0112 valle \nTotopillum in r\u016bpe \u0101 s\u0113 v\u012bsum esse; (is d\u0113 cun\u012bcul\u012bs ibi \nsatag\u0113bat:) s\u0113 cursum suum ad eum d\u012br\u0113xisse, ut ad m\u0113 d\u016bcer\u0113tur.\u2014\nTotopillus s\u0113cum habuit in saccul\u012bs quattuor v\u012bv\u014ds, \u016bnum mortuum \ncun\u012bculum; dein ego d\u0113m\u014dnstr\u014d magistr\u014d, qu\u014ds e\u012b cib\u014ds d\u0113stinem. \n390. Is d\u0113 c\u0113ter\u012bs r\u0113bus mult\u0101s agit gr\u0101ti\u0101s; sed \u016bnum illum ait \nsufficere antilopam, du\u0101s f\u0113min\u0101s n\u014dlle. Nam tantam carnis vim \ncorruptum \u012br\u012b, nisi proper\u0113 comed\u0101tur; naut\u012bs autem qu\u012b decem \nper di\u0113s parcius p\u0101st\u012b essent, \u012bnsal\u016bberrimum fore, s\u012b multum \nsubit\u014d carnis hab\u0113rent. Sed ego (ait) in r\u016bpe m\u0101nsu\u0113tum v\u012bd\u012b \ngregem: quidn\u012b poss\u012bs du\u014ds tr\u0113sve haed\u014ds cum p\u0101bul\u014d v\u012bv\u014ds n\u0101v\u012b \nimp\u014dnere, quand\u014d in e\u014d erimus ut solv\u0101mus?\u2014Tum vide\u014d err\u0101sse m\u0113 \nper properantiam: porr\u014d m\u0101lus novus erat caedendus. Igitur \nresponde\u014d: \u201cBene est: quidquid poterimus, faci\u0113mus.\u201d Tamen d\u0113 \nme\u012bs haed\u012bs aegr\u0113 fer\u0113bam: nam quidquid mihi cicur factum est, \net \u0113 me\u0101 man\u016b p\u0101sc\u0113b\u0101tur, id jugul\u0101re dol\u0113bat m\u0113. 391. D\u0113 ol\u014dre \nobl\u012btus eram facere menti\u014dnem: nunc sententiam m\u016bt\u014d. In Cortopem \nconvertor, interprete Gelavi\u014d. Mult\u014d cum hon\u014dre illum maxim\u014d \n\u0101lite d\u014dn\u014d, item du\u0101bus mortu\u012bs antilopis, ut su\u012bs r\u0113migibus, s\u012b \nsibi libeat, praebeat epulum. Add\u014d, n\u014dlle m\u0113 or\u0233zam ab ips\u014d \n\u014dr\u0101re, nisi esset, unde suppl\u0113rem. Is laetus accipit, \npollic\u0113turque lintr\u0113s ad convehendum cr\u0101s mittere.\u2014Tum \u0101 \nTotopill\u014d quaer\u014d, numve av\u0113s porcill\u014dsve c\u0113perit. N\u014dndum \u016bll\u014ds, \nrespondet.\u2014Igitur differ\u0101s (aj\u014d) hanc rem, d\u014dnec resarci\u0101tur \nn\u0101vis: nunc ex \u016bn\u014d ill\u014d lepore c\u0113nam appar\u0101.\u2014Id ille properat. \n392. C\u014dnfect\u0101 c\u0113n\u0101, Cortops ad su\u014ds vult extempl\u014d red\u012bre. Ego \ncum magistr\u014d tr\u0101ns r\u016bpem ambul\u014d, ut arbor\u0113s m\u0101l\u014d id\u014dne\u0101s ocul\u012bs \nl\u016bstret. Quattuor, qu\u0101s d\u0113notat, cr\u0113t\u0101 distingu\u014d: hae erant in \nsalt\u016b me\u014d. D\u0113scend\u0113ns ad fl\u016bmen qu\u012bntam animadvert\u012b, ejusdem \nfer\u0113 magnit\u016bdinis, quae p\u014dpul\u012b \u012bnstar ger\u0113bat. Hanc ut propi\u014drem \ncommend\u014d, atque ille comprobat. Tum aj\u014d: \u201cFabrum t\u016b n\u0101vis tuae \ncr\u0101s h\u016bc mittit\u014d: s\u012b quid j\u016bment\u012bs opus fuerit, ego per vir\u014ds \nme\u014ds praeb\u0113b\u014d.\u201d\u2014\u201c\u0112heu! (respondet): faber meus cum \u012bnsignissim\u014d \nill\u014d improb\u014drum fuit \u0101 barbar\u012bs occ\u012bsus: idque m\u0113 male habet, \nquod n\u0113m\u014d apud m\u0113 est, qu\u012b arborem in m\u0101lum d\u0113dol\u0101re calleat. \nSed nisi inter v\u014ds quispiam est fabr\u012bl\u012b arte exercitus, nautae \nme\u012b, ut ut poterunt, caedent.\u201d Tum n\u0101rr\u014d et m\u0113 et qu\u014dsdam \u0113 me\u012bs \nex necessit\u0101te multam re\u012b fabr\u012bl\u012b dedisse operam; et posse n\u014ds, \ns\u012b velit, hanc rem aliqu\u014d tandem mod\u014d perficere. Id lib\u0113ns \naudit: ait s\u0113, m\u0101l\u014d, qu\u012b fr\u0101ctus sit, in r\u012bpam exposit\u014d, \nalterum, ejusdem pl\u0101n\u0113 m\u0113ns\u016brae, imper\u0101t\u016brum mihi; pretiumque \nejus, pec\u016bni\u0101 aestim\u0101tum, in accept\u012b tabulam mihi rel\u0101t\u016brum. Tum \nego, quantum possum, sponde\u014d: is ad suam scapham abit, in n\u0101vem \nredit\u016brus; ego ad cavern\u0101s. 393. Poster\u014d di\u0113 sine \u016bll\u0101 \ndifficult\u0101te Pachus et Calefus arborem illam succ\u012bdunt et r\u0101m\u014ds \namputant. N\u0101vis cum m\u0101t\u016bt\u012bn\u014d aest\u016b \u014dstium subit fl\u016bminis, \nm\u0101lumque illum c\u014dnfr\u0101ctum in r\u012bpam excutit. Ibi ego \nacc\u016br\u0101tissim\u0113 omn\u0113s ejus part\u0113s m\u0113tior c\u014dnscr\u012bb\u014dque. Fabr\u012blia \nn\u0101vis \u012bnstr\u016bmenta recogn\u014dsc\u014d: m\u014dlem quandam cochle\u0101tam m\u016btuor et \nmaxim\u0101s c\u014dnf\u012bbul\u0101s pl\u016br\u0113s; quoniam utr\u014dque in f\u012bne inter \noperandum d\u0113beat arbor firmiter d\u0113stin\u0101r\u012b. Dol\u0101br\u0101s item et \nrunc\u012bn\u0101s inde s\u016bm\u014d, n\u0113, s\u012b nostrae in caedend\u014d retundantur, \nabs\u016bm\u0101tur tempus. Ego quidem vid\u0113bar pl\u016bs fest\u012bn\u0101re quam \nmagister; in\u0101niter cr\u0113d\u014d: sed spem redeund\u012b obl\u0101tam tandem, m\u014dra \n\u016bn\u012buscujusque di\u0113\u012b vid\u0113b\u0101tur imminuere. Vide\u014d cr\u0101s operam \nperfectum \u012br\u012b: igitur Totopillum jube\u014d, quam m\u0101t\u016brrim\u0113 possit, \ntest\u016bdinem capere; mox p\u0101bulum haed\u012bnum in n\u0101vem congerere. \nEnimv\u0113r\u014d cr\u0101s, id est, terti\u014d di\u0113, ut sp\u0113r\u0101v\u012b, m\u0101lum perf\u0113cimus. \nVespere Gelavium ad Cortopem mitt\u014d, n\u016bnti\u0101t\u016brum, m\u0113 gravissim\u0101 \nd\u0113 r\u0113 velle colloqu\u012b, quae cum pl\u0113be su\u0101 d\u0113beat comm\u016bnic\u0101r\u012b; \nqu\u0101r\u0113 in ejus hon\u014drem, nisi quid n\u014dlit, ipsum m\u0113 ad eum m\u0101ne \nvent\u016brum. Respondet, libent\u012b fore. \n394. M\u0101ne, r\u0113gium vest\u012btum ger\u0113ns, me\u0101 in scaph\u0101, comitantibus \nCalef\u014d, Pach\u014d, Gelavi\u014d, circumn\u0101vig\u0101v\u012b ad Cortopem. Is m\u0113 mult\u014d \ncum hon\u014dre excipit. Tumulum quendam vel trib\u016bnal \u0113 caespite \nexstr\u016bxerant, in quod m\u0113cum ascendit, et in arundin\u0101ce\u014d qu\u014ddam \npict\u014d tap\u0113te m\u0113 requi\u0113scere jubet. Tum ad conti\u014dnem su\u014drum verba \nfacit,\u2014cr\u0113d\u014d ut m\u0113 i\u012bs commendet: ill\u012b concl\u0101mant plaudent\u0113s. \nAssurg\u014d et manibus gesticulor: nihil aliud poteram. Dein \nd\u0113scendimus, et per Gelavium \u014dr\u014d, ut Cortops m\u0113cum et Calef\u014d \nseorsum colloqu\u0101tur. Jam m\u0113 aperi\u014d, Calef\u014d interprete. 395. Aj\u014d, \nm\u0113 omnibus \u012bnsulae meae c\u012bvibus summam opt\u0101re pr\u014dsperit\u0101tem: \nhanc ut affirmem, praecipuae mihi esse c\u016brae. Illum, quippe \nvirum n\u014dbilem, m\u012btem, seni\u014drem et di\u016b n\u014dtum, qu\u0101sdam propter \ncaus\u0101s m\u0113 ips\u014d fortasse melius e\u014drum fort\u016bn\u012bs praesess\u016brum: \nqu\u0101r\u0113 \u016bn\u0101 sub condici\u014dne esse mihi in anim\u014d, ut d\u0113 pr\u012bncip\u0101t\u016b \nill\u012b c\u0113dam.\u2014Pr\u012bm\u014d n\u014dn cr\u0113dit Calefum r\u0113ct\u0113 interpret\u0101r\u012b. Bis \nterque interrog\u0101bat, et, ut iter\u0101r\u0113tur r\u0113s, postul\u0101vit. Igitur \nego, r\u0113gi\u012bs gemm\u012bs d\u0113 me\u014d coll\u014d d\u0113tract\u012bs, ill\u012bus super capite \nsustin\u0113bam. S\u0113ns\u012b hominem vald\u0113 mov\u0113r\u012b. Tum quaes\u012bvit, quaenam \nforet illa \u016bna condici\u014d? Responde\u014d:\u2014Quoniam ill\u012b n\u014dn essent \nf\u012bli\u012b, postul\u0101re m\u0113, ut Gelavium pr\u014d su\u014d f\u012bli\u014d et pr\u012bncip\u0101t\u016bs \nsuccess\u014dre adopt\u0101ret; et postquam ego c\u014dram conti\u014dne Cortopem \nme\u012bs r\u0113g\u0101libus ex\u014drn\u0101ssem, is r\u016brsus Gelavium, pr\u014d su\u014d f\u012bli\u014d ac \nsuccess\u014dre pr\u014dn\u016bnti\u0101tum, r\u0113gi\u014d aliqu\u014d m\u014dre p\u016bblic\u0113 agn\u014dsceret. \nLibentissim\u0113 hanc condici\u014dnem acc\u0113pit. 396. Tunc adhibit\u012bs in \ncolloquium Pach\u014d ac Gelavi\u014d, reteg\u014d quid \u0101ctum sit. Pachus \nlaet\u0101tur, Gelavius obstup\u0113sc\u0113ns lacrim\u0101tur, interrogatque, numne \nabeam. Pr\u014dtenus explic\u014d; hanc n\u0101vem me\u014drum esse popul\u0101rium et ad \nmeam red\u012bre patriam: oport\u0113re m\u0113, patris senect\u016btem amanter \nfov\u0113re; porr\u014d h\u012bc m\u0113, s\u012b maxim\u0113 linguae Indic\u0101nae forem per\u012btus, \npauc\u012bs aliquot posse esse c\u0101rissimum, \u016bnivers\u012bs n\u014dn posse esse \nacceptum gr\u0101tumque pr\u012bncipem. N\u014dn m\u0113 paenit\u0113re quod artem \nlitter\u0101rum i\u012bs per Gelavium tr\u0101diderim. Hanc s\u012b excolant, f\u012bli\u014ds \nfore patribus, nep\u014dt\u0113s f\u012bli\u012bs usque sapienti\u014dr\u0113s. Sed opus meum \nh\u0101c in \u012bnsul\u0101 f\u012bn\u012btum esse.\u2014Profundum subsequitur silentium. \n397. Post paulisper Cortopem rog\u014d, numquid obstet, qu\u014dminus rem \nillic\u014d perfici\u0101mus. Ille, quasi \u0113vigil\u0101ns, vacu\u012bs ocul\u012bs aliquid \nrespondet. Interpretantur: \u201cNihil quod sciam.\u201d Tum Calefus in \ncaespitem \u0113scend\u0113ns pauca pr\u014dcl\u0101mat, populum in conti\u014dnem \nrevoc\u0101ns. Opper\u012bmur, d\u014dnec quam pl\u016brim\u012b reveniant. Tum Cortopis \nmanum ten\u0113ns, cum e\u014d iterum \u0113scend\u014d, c\u016bnct\u012bs m\u012brantibus quid \nag\u0101tur. Pr\u014dtenus ego me\u014d capite d\u0113tractam cristam Cortopis \nimp\u014dn\u014d capit\u012b, et mon\u012ble meum \u0113 bull\u012bs fulgentissim\u012bs et \nversicol\u014dribus coll\u014d ejusdem circump\u014dn\u014d. Adstrepit pl\u0113bs \ngesti\u0113ns. Mox Pachus explicat, m\u0113 in hon\u014drem Cortopis d\u0113 me\u014d \npr\u012bncip\u0101t\u016b c\u0113dere. Concl\u0101m\u0101tur ab \u016bnivers\u012bs. D\u0113scendimus ego ac \nPachus: Gelavium \u0113scendere jube\u014d. 398. R\u016brsus Cortops palam \nn\u016bntiat, s\u0113 p\u016bblic\u0113 Gelavium pr\u014d su\u014d f\u012bli\u014d adopt\u0101re, quem s\u0113 \nmortu\u014d d\u0113beant pr\u014d pr\u012bncipe vener\u0101r\u012b. Post haec dicta, ipsum \nillud mon\u012ble meum, su\u014d coll\u014d d\u0113tractum, imp\u014dnit Gelavi\u014d, qu\u014d \nmanif\u0113stior me\u012bs sit ocul\u012bs \u0101cta r\u0113s. Applaud\u014d. Tum Cortops \nGelavi\u012b coll\u014d man\u016bs su\u0101s circumdat, et paternum e\u012b \u014dsculum \nimprimit. Dein brevissimum aliquid pr\u014dcl\u0101mat, quod mox mihi \nexplicant: \u201c\u0112n v\u014db\u012bs f\u012blius meus!\u201d Mox maxim\u0101 cum accl\u0101m\u0101ti\u014dne \ndisc\u0113ditur. \u014cr\u014d Cortopem, ut propter mea summa neg\u014dtia, s\u012b ill\u012b \nid n\u014dn sit incommodum, ad meum portum secund\u014d m\u0101ne veniat. Mox \nmult\u0101 cum caerim\u014dni\u0101 d\u0113c\u0113dent\u0113s, domum scaph\u0101 pet\u012bvimus. Haec \nqu\u0101rt\u014d erant di\u0113, post n\u0101vis adventum. E\u014ddem s\u0101n\u0113 di\u0113 novus ille \nm\u0101lus per duo j\u016bmenta ad n\u0101vem \u0101 Totopill\u014d d\u0113ductus est.\nCAPUT (XIV.) QU\u0100RTUMDECIMUM.\n399. Qu\u012bnt\u014d di\u0113 novus ille m\u0101lus suum in locum f\u012bgitur. Ego \nautem quidquid vol\u0113bam asport\u0101re, d\u0113lig\u0113bam, comp\u014dn\u0113bam,\u2014\nlaet\u0101ns, maer\u0113ns, gem\u0113ns, m\u012br\u0113 varius, et vald\u0113 taciturnus. \nStatu\u012b autem m\u0113 ante qu\u012bntum f\u012bn\u012btum diem me\u0101s r\u0113s omn\u0113s \nc\u014dnfect\u016brum: atque c\u014dnf\u0113c\u012b. 400. Sext\u014d di\u0113 perv\u0113nit Cortops, s\u012bc \nut rog\u0101veram. Pulcherrimum e\u012b gladi\u014drum me\u014drum, qu\u012b erat \u0113 \nchalybe caerule\u014d, atque \u016bnam nov\u0101culam cum c\u014dticul\u0101 su\u0101 \ncoriace\u0101, d\u014dn\u014d d\u014d; item optimam ignipultam aucup\u0101riam: d\u012bc\u014dque, \ns\u012b artem jaculand\u012b velit discere, posse \u0101 Gelavi\u014d doc\u0113r\u012b. Mox \nfurcillam m\u0113ns\u0101lem et cochlear, quae argentea hab\u0113bam, ut r\u0113gi\u012b \nj\u016bris, d\u0113tul\u012b. \u012anstr\u016bmentum meum fabr\u012ble ac coqu\u012bn\u0101rium omne e\u012b \nexhibu\u012b, juss\u012bque, s\u012b quid praesertim vellet, inde d\u0113ligere. \nNihil ille nisi ferream cr\u0101tem, sart\u0101ginem[Y] et du\u0101s sec\u016br\u0113s \nd\u0113l\u0113git. Serr\u0101s d\u012bxit s\u0113 c\u016bnct\u0101s concup\u012bscere; sed accipere,\u2014id \nfore impudentis. Tum ego arr\u012bd\u0113ns d\u012bc\u014d, quidquid cum Gelavi\u014d \nrel\u012bquerim, ejus \u016bsum fr\u016bctumque penes Gelavi\u012b patrem \npr\u012bncipemque fore. Mox addid\u012b, nesc\u012bre m\u0113, quant\u012b meam ille \nscapham aestim\u0101ret; Gelavi\u012b et Totopill\u012b oper\u0101 fuisse ex\u014drn\u0101tam; \nsed hon\u014dris caus\u0101, acciperet \u0101 m\u0113. Hon\u014dris (respondet) caus\u0101 \nlibentissim\u0113 s\u0113 accipere. D\u0113nique s\u0113ricam meam umbellam ill\u012b \ntr\u0101d\u014d, quoniam haec quoque r\u0113gium quiddam hab\u0113re vid\u0113b\u0101tur. Post \nprandium, ips\u0101 in scaph\u0101 cum d\u014dn\u012bs me\u012bs revertit, suam lintrem (\npulchram illam quidem) conc\u0113d\u0113ns Gelavi\u014d, sagitt\u0101sque Totopill\u014d \ncum arc\u016b splendidi\u014dre. Equidem me\u012bs omnibus s\u0113dul\u014d multa \ngr\u0101tific\u0101bar, maribus ignipult\u0101s pistol\u0101sque impr\u012bm\u012bs, hon\u014dris \nfortasse caus\u0101, item ali\u0101s r\u0113s pl\u016br\u0113s; sed f\u0113min\u012bs quae dar\u012b \noporteat, aliquant\u014d difficilius statu\u0113bam. \n401. R\u0113rum seri\u0113 abreptus, cl\u0101dem cymbae om\u012bs\u012b n\u0101rr\u0101re. Upis, \npraeter ali\u0101s oper\u0101s, in piscibus colligend\u012bs condiend\u012bsque erat \n\u016btilis. Sol\u0113bat in cymb\u0101 r\u0113tia mea ips\u014d in port\u016b v\u012bsere, inde \npisc\u0113s report\u0101ns. Haec mulier cum Lar\u012b item nova f\u0113cit r\u0113tia, et \nvetera resarc\u012bvit. Qu\u014ddam di\u0113, quand\u014d, r\u0113t\u012b \u0113l\u0101t\u014d, in e\u014d erat ut \npisc\u0113s extraheret, accipiter qu\u012bdam mar\u012bnus pr\u014d pisce cert\u0101bat: \nid quod ali\u0101s \u0113ven\u012bre n\u014dveram; nam hominem h\u012b \u0101lit\u0113s parum \nform\u012bd\u0101bant. Ea surg\u0113ns, r\u0113m\u014d affl\u012bxit \u0101litem; sed v\u012b verberis \nobl\u012bqu\u0113 s\u0113 \u0113 cymb\u0101 praecipit\u0101vit. Forte pl\u0113nus tum maxim\u0113 erat \naestus, mar\u012b satis tumid\u014d. Cymba, resorbente aest\u016b, extr\u0101 \nasport\u0101tur, mox in scopul\u014ds affl\u012bgitur. Mulier \u0113nat\u0101ns facile \nterram attigit: cymbae n\u012bl nisi tabul\u0101s qu\u0101sdam et \u016bnum r\u0113mum \nrecuper\u0101vimus. \n402. Totopillus, ut pr\u012bmum tempest\u0101s favet, tr\u0113s test\u016bdin\u0113s ope \nGelavi\u012b ac Pach\u012b reportat. H\u0101s cum pl\u016brim\u012bs cib\u012bs v\u012bv\u0101s ad n\u0101vem \nego cum Gelavi\u014d, ips\u012bus in lintre, conveh\u014d: ibi cum magistr\u014d \ncolloquor. Polliceor v\u012bv\u014ds haed\u014ds pusill\u014ds quattuor: \nd\u0113m\u014dnstr\u014dque, s\u012b amplius vellet p\u0101bul\u012b, naut\u0101s posse \u0113 valle \nmetere. Antenn\u0101s, ait ille, m\u0101l\u012b etiam d\u0113esse; rogatque anne \npossim fr\u0101ct\u012b m\u0101l\u012b antenn\u0101s prob\u0113 aff\u012bgere, c\u0113ter\u0101sque r\u0113s \nconcinn\u0101re: su\u014ds enim naut\u0101s vald\u0113 esse inhabil\u0113s, qu\u014ds \u0113 \nCorrhag\u012b\u0101 d\u016bxisset. Cr\u0113d\u014d posse m\u0113 operam c\u014dnficere; sed \nDominicus di\u0113s acc\u0113d\u0113bat. N\u0113 post discessum meum pr\u014drsus \nnegliger\u0113tur ille di\u0113s, comperendin\u0101v\u012b rem. \u201cDi\u0113 L\u016bn\u0101r\u012b (d\u012bx\u012b), \ns\u012b poter\u014d, perficiam; tum t\u016b di\u0113 M\u0101rtis n\u0101vem fortasse solv\u0113s.\u201d \nS\u0113 fore praest\u014d, ait, s\u012b ventus faveat. \n403. Tum seorsum magistr\u014d d\u012bc\u014d; quoniam fabrum n\u014dn habeat, \nquidn\u012b m\u0113 pr\u014d fabr\u014d su\u014d redi\u0113ns accipiat? R\u012bdet pr\u012bm\u014d \nincr\u0113dulus; sed quand\u014d m\u0113 s\u0113rium videt, respondet, \u201cSit s\u0101n\u0113, ut \nv\u012bs. S\u012b opera tua fabr\u012blis n\u0101v\u012b suff\u0113cerit, pl\u0113nam fabr\u012b \nmerc\u0113dem \u0101 soci\u012bs me\u012bs dom\u012b accipi\u0113s. Serv\u0101tae n\u0101vis praemium \ntibi erit integrum. Pr\u014d cib\u012bs qu\u014ds praeb\u0113s, pec\u016bniam n\u014dn \nnumer\u0101b\u014d quidem nunc, sed aestim\u0101b\u014d.\u201d 404. Tum qu\u0101l\u0113s habeat \nmerc\u0113s, interrog\u014d. Ait s\u0113 ad Jamaicam port\u0101re agricolend\u012b \n\u012bnstr\u016bmentum, item v\u012blia serv\u014drum vest\u012bmenta, et quidquid \ncol\u014dniae sit id\u014dneum. Num serr\u0101s habeat, num p\u0101l\u0101s, rog\u014d. \nMaxim\u0113, ait. Tum ego decem serr\u0101s, decem p\u0101l\u0101s, quadr\u0101gint\u0101 \ncultell\u014ds plic\u0101til\u0113s, quadr\u0101gint\u0101 vest\u0113s \u0113 gossypi\u014d, et long\u012b \ngossypi\u012b quattuor fasc\u0113s, em\u014d; novum d\u014dnum Cortop\u012b. S\u012bc propter \nor\u0233zam sp\u0113r\u014d ejus pl\u0113b\u012b satis rep\u0113nsum \u012br\u012b. Mox varia c\u014dnfici\u014d \nf\u0113min\u012bs nostr\u012bs m\u016bnuscula, aliqua vir\u012bs me\u012bs, quae referre \ntaedet: long\u0113 pl\u016bra s\u0101n\u0113 Gelavi\u014d c\u014dnfer\u014d, inter quae duo p\u014dn\u014d \nd\u014dlia pulveris nitr\u0101t\u012b, quattuor missilis plumb\u012b saccul\u014ds. H\u0101s \nr\u0113s omn\u0113s magister contr\u0101 m\u0113 in tabulam imp\u0113ns\u012b refert, \npollic\u0113turque in cavern\u0101s me\u0101s d\u0113port\u0101re. 405. Cr\u0101s, qu\u012b di\u0113s \nerat Domin\u012b, pl\u016brim\u012b conv\u0113n\u0113re, ut m\u0113 ultimum sal\u016bt\u0101rent. Multa \nd\u012bx\u012b benign\u0113, sed moribund\u012b hominis animum ger\u0113bam. Mult\u012bs \nGelavium monu\u012b, ut quantum posset, n\u014dn h\u012bs tantum vir\u012bs, sed \nposter\u012bs pr\u014dspiceret; nempe, s\u012b seni\u014drum c\u014dnsili\u014d d\u0113 agr\u012bs \ncolend\u012bs, d\u0113 \u016bs\u016bfr\u016bct\u016b agr\u014drum ac maris, d\u0113 aedibus condend\u012bs, \nd\u0113 m\u0101teri\u0113 sax\u012b caement\u012bque fruend\u0101, l\u0113g\u0113s aequ\u0101s firm\u0101sque \npr\u014dmulg\u0101ret. D\u0113 t\u0101libus r\u0113bus prout l\u0113g\u0113s bonae exercentur, ita (\nd\u012bx\u012b) c\u012bvit\u0101tis cujusque viget polletque status. S\u012b d\u0113 h\u012bs quae \nDeus d\u014dn\u0101vit mort\u0101libus aequ\u0113 j\u016bst\u0113que inter homin\u0113s stat\u016btum \nsit, tum fore ut singul\u014drum industria vigeat, \u016bnivers\u014drum c\u014dpiae \nabundent; neque umquam \u016bberrim\u0101 in \u012bnsul\u0101 d\u0113fore pr\u012bncip\u012b \nt\u016bt\u0101menta majest\u0101tis, s\u012b usque ad humillimum quemque c\u012bvem \nd\u0113scenderit pr\u012bncipis aequit\u0101s.\u2014Ille mea verba quasi haurit \natque recondit, r\u0101r\u014d respond\u0113ns aut paucissima. Tandem ait (\nign\u014dscat mihi l\u0113ctor, quod refer\u014d,) \u201c\u014c ere, numquam ego volu\u012b \nr\u0113gn\u0101re; sed s\u012b ante\u0101 nesc\u012brem, in t\u0113 didic\u012b quaenam essent \nr\u0113gn\u0101t\u014dris elementa.\u201d 406. Poste\u0101 d\u012bx\u012b: \u201cNae t\u016b, quidquid \n\u0113v\u0113nerit, id ag\u0101s, ut numquam h\u0101c in \u012bnsul\u0101 duo sint inter s\u0113 \nl\u012bber\u012b pr\u012bncip\u0113s. S\u012b ad tempus id d\u0113v\u012bt\u0101r\u012b nequ\u012bbit, at t\u016b per \nfoedus facit\u014d ut f\u012bli\u012b vestr\u012b ac f\u012bli\u012b omnium qu\u012b in e\u0101dem h\u0101c \nerunt \u012bnsul\u0101, e\u014ddem summ\u014d pr\u012bncipe \u016btantur. Quam m\u012bt\u0113s s\u012btis \ninter v\u014ds, t\u016b optim\u0113 n\u014dveris. Quam atr\u014dx f\u016bnestumque possit esse \nbellum, ego vide\u014d, quattuor ill\u014ds fort\u0113sque requ\u012br\u0113ns Cortopis \nf\u012bli\u014ds. T\u016b in fr\u0101tris jam loc\u014d es erg\u0101 Totopillum; c\u016br, quaes\u014d, \n\u0101cerrim\u012b quondam cr\u016bd\u0113lissim\u012bque fuistis host\u0113s?\u201d Lacrim\u0101 \nobort\u0101, \u201cT\u016b concili\u0101st\u012b,\u201d inquit. D\u0113 s\u0113 nihil pr\u014dmitt\u0113bat. \n407. Di\u0113 L\u016bn\u0101r\u012b antenn\u0101s resarc\u012bvimus: tum f\u016bn\u0113s nautae ips\u012b \n\u014drdin\u0101bant. Magister queritur, inter fr\u016bct\u016bs n\u014dn fuisse l\u012bm\u014dn\u0101s, \nd\u0113 qu\u0101 r\u0113 illic\u014d imper\u0101bam. Mox Totopillus octo av\u0113s v\u012bv\u0101s \nd\u0113tulit, qu\u012bnque mortu\u0101s; ex h\u012bs tr\u0113s grand\u0113s erant; \u014dtid\u0113s esse \ncr\u0113did\u012b. D\u012bxit hab\u0113re s\u0113 porcill\u014ds quoque, cr\u0101s fortasse alia \nd\u0113l\u0101t\u016brum. 408. Ego \u016bnam acum pol\u0101rem, \u016bnum p\u0101r pistol\u0101rum, \nbitubam meam, alteramque aucup\u0101riam m\u0113cum eram \u0101vect\u016brus; item \nquidquid proprium fuit Braz\u012blic\u012b magistr\u012b. Quidquid n\u0113min\u012b datum \nrelinquerem, id omne pr\u014dn\u016bnti\u014d Gelavi\u012b esse. Hunc porr\u014d rog\u0101v\u012b, \nut in m\u0101tris meae hon\u014drem cocum illam in port\u016b rig\u0101ret \nfov\u0113retque. \n409. Summ\u014d m\u0101ne experr\u0113ct\u012b, maxim\u0101 cum exspect\u0101ti\u014dne mult\u012b \nmort\u0101l\u0113s discurrimus. Totopillus m\u0101t\u016br\u0113 porcill\u014ds v\u012bv\u014ds tr\u0113s \nd\u0113tulit, novamque avium c\u014dpiam, inter qu\u0101s columb\u012b erant \u0113 me\u012bs \nv\u012bv\u012b. S\u0113rius Fenis, Laris, Pachus fiscellam l\u012bm\u014dnum su\u014d quisque \nin capite d\u0113portat. Mox \u0101 Cortope n\u016bntius r\u0113migum operam \npollic\u0113tur, s\u012bqu\u0101 forte opus sit. Sed propter ventum \nadversissimum et caut\u0113s vad\u014ds\u012b maris parum n\u014dt\u0101s, magister \nhon\u014drific\u014d resp\u014dns\u014d negat s\u0113 aud\u0113re hodi\u0113 \u0113gred\u012b: id quod multum \ndole\u014d. 410. Nam susp\u0113ns\u012bs intent\u012bsque anim\u012bs maestissimum est \ns\u0113gnitia: item, par\u0101t\u012bs r\u0113bus omnibus, quid n\u014db\u012bs nisi s\u0113gnitia \nrestat? Proptere\u0101, pr\u014dc\u0113dente di\u0113, juv\u0101bat m\u0113 quod magister, \npl\u016brima interrogand\u014d, multum \u0101 m\u0113 serm\u014dnem \u0113licuit. Praecipu\u0113 \nm\u012br\u0101b\u0101tur, qu\u014d tandem f\u0101t\u014d ego, Anglus hom\u014d, inter L\u016bsit\u0101n\u014ds \nBraz\u012bli\u0113ns\u0113s ineunte adol\u0113scenti\u0101 fuerim col\u014dnus, ubi ipsa \nreligi\u014d d\u0113terret Angl\u014ds. Ubi Gelavius quoque \u014dr\u0101vit, ut t\u014dtam \nhanc rem pl\u0113nius explic\u0101rem, in pl\u0113n\u0101 naut\u0101rum conti\u014dne hanc \ntandem in modum loc\u016btus sum. 411. Ego, in n\u0101ve Anglic\u0101 ad \nGuineam n\u0101vig\u0101ns, \u0101 Maur\u014d p\u012br\u0101t\u0101 captus sum cum soci\u012bs nostr\u012bs \nn\u0101v\u0101libus. Is m\u0113 quattuor fer\u0113 ann\u014ds pr\u014d servul\u014d lab\u014dr\u0101re \nco\u0113git. Tandem f\u0113l\u012bc\u012b aud\u0101ci\u0101 auf\u016bg\u012b, in phas\u0113l\u014d er\u012b \nv\u0113l\u014dcissim\u014d, \u016bnum puerum Maurum simul asport\u0101ns. Ips\u014d in \u014ccean\u014d \nn\u0101ve L\u016bsit\u0101n\u0101 except\u012b sumus atque ad Braz\u012bliam d\u0113vect\u012b. Magister \nnegat s\u0113 pr\u014d naul\u014d quidquam \u0101 fugit\u012bv\u014d Chr\u012bsti\u0101n\u014d accept\u016brum: \npr\u014d phas\u0113l\u014d et r\u0113bus omnibus qu\u0101s asport\u0101v\u012b, ipse pollic\u0113tur \npretium. D\u0113nique ab h\u014dc vir\u014d l\u012bber\u0101l\u012b, postquam in Omnium \nS\u0101nct\u014drum Sin\u016b ancoram jacimus, persol\u016bta mihi est summa \nducent\u0101rum v\u012bgint\u012b min\u0101rum L\u016bsit\u0101n\u0101rum. Hoc caput mihi erat \npec\u016bniae, in Braz\u012bliam exposit\u014d. Fatendum autem est m\u0113 clam \npatre n\u0101vig\u0101sse; n\u014dluisse m\u0113 idcirc\u014d s\u012bc revert\u012b in patriam, ut \nparentis op\u0113s iners c\u014dns\u016bmerem. 412. Illa s\u0101n\u0113 regi\u014d, imm\u0113nsa \nagr\u014drum, profunda saltibus, vacua vir\u014drum, adven\u0101s libentissim\u0113 \nexcipit: nec di\u016b exspect\u014d, antequam apud col\u014dnum quendam in \nagricult\u016bram adhibear. Pr\u012bm\u014d quidem propter linguam ign\u014dtam \nparum eram \u016btilis. Poteram s\u0101n\u0113 colentibus ast\u0101re, observ\u0101re, \ns\u0113gnitiam cohib\u0113re, et modic\u0101 qu\u0101dam oper\u0101 cibum t\u0113ctumque \nmer\u0113r\u012b, ut n\u0113 ex me\u014d impend\u0113rem. Interim per eundem n\u0101vis \nmagistrum tr\u0101nsig\u0113bam, ut ex Angli\u0101 pec\u016bniae quaedam meae ad m\u0113 \nmitterentur. Is nempe, Olis\u012bp\u014dnem redit\u016brus, cr\u0113d\u0113bat s\u0113 ill\u012bc \nposse id pr\u014dc\u016br\u0101re, s\u012b ego litter\u0101s sibi ad me\u0101rum pec\u016bni\u0101rum \nsequestrem c\u014dnf\u012bderem; id quod libenter f\u0113c\u012b. (At f\u0113mina hab\u0113bat \nnumm\u014ds me\u014ds, vidua magistr\u012b n\u0101vis, pr\u012bm\u012b me\u012b atque optim\u012b \npatr\u014dn\u012b.) Poste\u0101 autem vir benignus, r\u0113 me\u0101 tamquam su\u0101 ips\u012bus \nacc\u016br\u0101tius perp\u0113ns\u0101, ait numm\u012bs n\u0113qu\u0101quam opus esse; sed caput \npec\u016bniae, postquam d\u0113 summ\u0101 certior ven\u012bret ab Angli\u0101 n\u016bntius, \nL\u016bsit\u0101n\u0101 merce m\u016btandum, qu\u0101lis praesertim Braz\u012bliae esset \nid\u014dnea. Posse m\u0113 post aliquod tempus Olis\u012bp\u014dnem ad s\u0113 scr\u012bbere, \ns\u012bquid potissimum vellem: s\u012bn minus, tum quaecumque sibi \nvid\u0113rentur, report\u0101t\u016brum. Gr\u0101ti\u0101s s\u0101n\u0113 \u0113g\u012b, litter\u0101sque ad \nam\u012bcam viduam composu\u012b, in quibus omnia, quae contigerant, \nstrictim n\u0101rr\u0101bantur. Ea, postquam redditae sunt hae litterae, \nlaeta effugi\u014d me\u014d, propter mar\u012bt\u012b su\u012b memoriam L\u016bsit\u0101num \nmagistrum ex su\u014d l\u012bber\u0101liter d\u014dnat, simul parentibus me\u012bs c\u016bncta \nimpertit. Comper\u012bre n\u014dn potu\u012b, cr\u0113d\u014d tamen, me\u0101s apud illam \npec\u016bni\u0101s \u0101 patre c\u014dnfestim auct\u0101s esse; nam merx quam d\u0113mum \nacc\u0113p\u012b, aliquant\u014d pl\u016bs erat quam quod aut exspect\u0101veram aut \npotu\u012b explic\u0101re. Sed rede\u014d unde d\u0113flex\u012b. 413. Col\u014dnus ille (\nAra\u016bj\u014d e\u012b erat n\u014dmen) cujus in operis eram, agr\u012b d\u012btior erat \nquam pec\u016bniae, nec potuit n\u0101t\u016br\u0101l\u012b agr\u014drum \u016bbert\u0101te ita fru\u012b ut \nd\u0113b\u0113bat. Ager per serv\u014ds colitur. Atqu\u012b ille neque tot serv\u014ds, \nquot opus erant, hab\u0113bat, neque \u012bnstr\u016bmentum satis amplum, s\u012b, \nprop\u0101g\u0101t\u0101 cult\u016br\u0101, redit\u016bs ac commercia opper\u012br\u0113tur. Ut \nindustrium m\u0113 pr\u012bm\u014d esse v\u012bdit, agr\u012bque colend\u012b haud ign\u0101rum; \nmox, intell\u0113xit numm\u014drum m\u0113 aliquantum man\u016b ten\u0113re, ali\u0101s \nexspect\u0101re ab Angli\u0101 pec\u016bni\u0101s: s\u0113ns\u012b eum famili\u0101rius m\u0113 \ncompell\u0101re, tum saepius ast\u0101re, velle colloqu\u012b, ad m\u0113nsam \ninterdum adhib\u0113re. Mox puer\u012bs ux\u014dr\u012bque m\u0113 commendat. Garri\u014d cum \npuer\u012bs, r\u016br\u012b comes f\u012b\u014d; l\u016bdum quasi gladi\u0101t\u014drium faci\u014d,\u2014n\u014dn cum \nips\u014d gladi\u014d, nam virga pr\u014d t\u0113l\u014d erat,\u2014dum doce\u014d qu\u014dmodo Anglus \nnauta, qu\u014dmodo Maurus, feriat, arceat. Quae omnia n\u014dn modo \nanimum meum inter peregr\u012bn\u014ds vald\u0113 s\u014dl\u0101bantur, sed propter \nlinguae quoque \u016bsum pr\u014dderant. Lusit\u0101nic\u0113 loqu\u012b ex puer\u012bs disc\u014d, \ncum patre serm\u014dn\u0113s \u2e24ips\u012bus d\u0113 r\u0113\u2e25 habe\u014d arti\u014dr\u0113s. 414. Tandem is \ns\u0113 aperit. Benign\u0113 d\u0113 m\u0113 quaedam praef\u0101tus, ait,\u2014S\u012b socium haud \npauperem hab\u0113ret, amb\u014dbus lautius fore quam nunc sibi s\u014dl\u012b: \ntantam esse agr\u012b \u016bbert\u0101tem, cael\u012b tep\u014drem, aqu\u0101rum abundantiam. \nM\u0113, s\u012b in haeretic\u0101 religi\u014dne persistam, agr\u014ds me\u014d n\u014dmine n\u014dn \nposse in Braz\u012bli\u0101 ten\u0113re. S\u0101n\u0113 s\u0113 velle, concord\u0113s forent omn\u0113s \nChr\u012bsti\u0101n\u012b: s\u012bn autem id fier\u012b n\u014dn possit, tum\u2014id\u014dne\u0101 fact\u0101 \nsyngraph\u0101, qu\u012bn pec\u016bni\u0101s in fund\u014d ejus collocem, ampl\u014dsque \nredit\u016bs f\u0113nore accipiam? \n415. Ubi cibus abundat et j\u016bcunda \u0101eris temperi\u0113s facil\u012b oper\u0101 \ncorpus fovet, ibi (op\u012bnor) anim\u012b ad l\u012bber\u0101lit\u0101tem, apud n\u014ds ad \nav\u0101ritiam, sunt pr\u014dp\u0113nsi\u014dr\u0113s. Itaque col\u014dn\u012b ill\u012b sunt haud r\u0101r\u014d \ns\u0113gn\u0113s, negligent\u0113s, pr\u014ddig\u012b; profect\u014d n\u014dn sunt ill\u012bber\u0101l\u0113s. \nQu\u0101r\u0113, quae in medium pr\u014dfer\u0113bat, c\u014dmiter excuti\u0113bam; neque \nabhorr\u0113bam \u0101 vir\u014d, vult\u016b m\u014dribusque j\u016bxt\u0101 benign\u014d. 416. Illud \nquoque c\u014dns\u012bder\u0101bam; L\u016bsit\u0101niam Angliae arti\u014dre qu\u014ddam vincul\u014d \nastring\u012b, ex qu\u014d tempore form\u012bdanda illa, ing\u0113ns potentiae \nHisp\u0101nia, nostra d\u012brissima atque impl\u0101c\u0101bilis hostis, \u0113 \npossessi\u014dne L\u016bsit\u0101niae est exturb\u0101ta: qu\u014d t\u016bti\u014dr\u0113s mihi fore \npec\u016bni\u0101s, apud c\u012bvem L\u016bsit\u0101num colloc\u0101t\u0101s. 417. D\u0113nique \nc\u014dns\u0113ns\u012b; scr\u012bpt\u012bsque litter\u012bs, qu\u0101s merc\u0113s ille d\u0113s\u012bder\u0101bat \npotissimum, h\u0101s ego Olis\u012bp\u014dne reportand\u0101s ad m\u0113 rog\u0101v\u012b. Pec\u016bni\u0101s \npropter praesent\u0113s \u016bs\u016bs illic\u014d poteram ex arc\u0101 me\u0101 c\u014dnferre. \nPac\u012bscitur porr\u014d, ut ego oper\u0101s agrest\u0113s c\u016brem regamque, ille \npraestet mihi ex ips\u014d fund\u014d cibum, serv\u014ds, equ\u014ds, c\u016bncta quae \nmaxim\u012b sunt: c\u0113tera ex praesent\u012b pec\u016bni\u0101 atque ex annu\u014d f\u0113nore \nfacile solv\u014d. 418. M\u012branda s\u0101n\u0113 est ill\u0101 in regi\u014dne arborum \natque fruticum tum c\u014dpia, tum pr\u014dc\u0113rit\u0101s. Pl\u016brim\u0101rum n\u014dmina \narduum est d\u012bcere: imm\u014d, pr\u014drsus popul\u012bs Eur\u014dpae\u012bs sunt \nincognita. Celebris est ibi mandioca \u0113sculenta, item milium \natque z\u0113a Indica, item ban\u0101na, et or\u0233za sat\u012bva. Atqu\u012b ego, qu\u012b \npl\u016brima terr\u0101 n\u0101scenti\u0101 apud Maur\u014ds didiceram, tamen long\u0113 pl\u016bra \nh\u012bc pr\u012bm\u014d ign\u014dta inv\u0113n\u012b. 419. Noster quidem fundus saccharum \npraecipu\u0113 et tab\u0101cum gign\u0113bat. R\u0101d\u012bc\u0113s \u0113sculent\u0101s, olera, \ncere\u0101lia, ips\u012b in su\u012bs agell\u012bs serv\u012b \u0113ducant, er\u014dque praestant \n\u016bnus quisque aliquantum. Ille s\u0113mina quaedam, \u012bnstr\u016bmenta, \nvest\u012bmenta, t\u0113cta dom\u014drum c\u014dnfert; c\u016bncta administrat, d\u0113fendit, \nr\u0113gia vect\u012bg\u0101lia persolvit. 420. Per biennium pl\u016brima circ\u0101 \nfundum erant novanda. Pl\u016bs aliquand\u014d excol\u0113bantur agr\u012b. Saep\u0113s, \nviae, portulae erant c\u014dnficiendae: tum casulae novae, plute\u012b. \nDistribuendum \u012bnstr\u016bmentum, cult\u016bra regenda, multa nov\u0113 docenda. \nIrrig\u0101ti\u014dne n\u014dn opus erat; dumtaxat propter or\u0233zam quibusdam in \nagell\u012bs cohib\u0113bantur r\u012bvul\u012b d\u0113current\u0113s. Terti\u014d itidem ann\u014d \nmult\u0101 opus erat alacrit\u0101te et perp\u0113ns\u0101ti\u014dne d\u012bligentissim\u0101, ut \nad amussim j\u016bdic\u0101rem quid sapienter, quid stult\u0113 imp\u0113nsum; quae \nretinendae rati\u014dn\u0113s, quae m\u016btandae forent. Necn\u014dn, ips\u014drum \nserv\u014drum ingeni\u012bs jam melius perspect\u012bs, ad su\u0101s quemque c\u016br\u0101s \nfr\u016bctu\u014dsius poteram disp\u014dnere. Tantummodo n\u014dn satis hab\u0113b\u0101mus \nvir\u014drum in oper\u012bs, quamquam vernulae quotann\u012bs n\u0101sc\u0113bantur, et \npost aliquot ann\u014ds vid\u0113bantur suffect\u016br\u012b. 421. Attamen qu\u0101rt\u014d \njam ann\u014d afflu\u0113bant op\u0113s, servul\u012b continuam offici\u014drum rotam \npersequ\u0113bantur. Socius (s\u012bve coll\u0113ga) ille meus Ara\u016bj\u014d, vetus \nneg\u014dtiand\u012b, extern\u0101s fund\u012b nostr\u012b r\u0113s d\u012bligenter administr\u0101bat. \nEgo v\u0113r\u014d quasi bracchi\u012bs replic\u0101t\u012bs poteram d\u012bt\u0113scere, nisi quod \npropter novam hanc s\u0113gnitiam tum maxim\u0113 fund\u012b, regi\u014dnis, \nhominum, me\u012bque ips\u012bus taed\u0113bat m\u0113. \n422. D\u0113b\u0113bam fortasse ux\u014drem d\u016bcere, sed religi\u014d loc\u012b \nimpedi\u0113bat: n\u014dn quod ego Anglic\u012b cult\u016bs ten\u0101x fuerim atque \nostent\u0101tor; nam extr\u0101, vix d\u012bversus \u0101 c\u0113ter\u012bs vid\u0113bar. Sci\u0113bam \nautem, ut pr\u012bmum m\u0101trim\u014dnium contempl\u0101rer, extempl\u014d sacerd\u014dt\u0113s \nd\u0113 me\u0101 religi\u014dne fore c\u016bri\u014dsissim\u014ds; dein art\u0101s conn\u016bbi\u012b l\u0113g\u0113s \npostul\u0101t\u016br\u014ds, quibus neque uxor sit mea ips\u012bus, neque l\u012bber\u012b \nneque domus neque serv\u012b; sed sacerd\u014ds su\u0101 sponte intret, \ncogn\u014dscat, \u014drdinet, imperitet; c\u016bnct\u014ds, s\u012b libitum fuerit, \ncontr\u0101 m\u0113 cohort\u0113tur. Id v\u0113r\u014d n\u014dn erat ferendum. Itaque s\u014dlus \nman\u0113bam, s\u014dlum m\u0113 fov\u0113bam, oblect\u0101bam: mox, m\u0113 ipsum per\u014dsus, \ninqui\u0113t\u014d agit\u0101bar anim\u014d. \n423. Ita affect\u014d subita supervenit v\u012btae conversi\u014d, quam satis \nm\u012br\u0101r\u012b n\u014dn possum. Coll\u0113ga ille s\u012bve magister meus s\u0113dul\u014d m\u0113 ad \ns\u0113 vocat; ait, grav\u012b d\u0113 r\u0113 velle s\u0113 colloqu\u012b; aur\u0113s benign\u0101s et \npatient\u0113s s\u0113 \u014dr\u0101re. Ego, m\u012br\u0101bundus quid sit, responde\u014d, esse \nmihi \u014dti\u012b satis superque, et perlibenter m\u0113 auscult\u0101t\u016brum. 424. \nTum \u012bnfit: Opulenti\u014drem s\u0113 per m\u0113 in di\u0113s fier\u012b. Quidquid d\u012bcat, \nn\u0113 s\u0113 putem ingr\u0101tum, n\u0113ve velle ab s\u0113 m\u0113 \u0101m\u014dtum. Multa m\u0113 fund\u014d \nsu\u014d optim\u0113 f\u0113cisse, \u016bnum n\u014dn potuisse facere, ut pl\u016br\u0113s essent \nservul\u012b. Id s\u012b fieret, mult\u014d etiam perfectius l\u0101tiusque excol\u012b \nposse agr\u014ds. Operam meam per triennium \u016btilem fuisse, imm\u014d \nnecess\u0101riam; jam ipsam per s\u0113 quasi c\u014dnfectam: s\u012bc enim m\u0113 r\u0113s \nadministr\u0101sse, ut n\u014dn jam indig\u0113rent me\u012b. Nunc s\u012b sibi su\u012bsque \nfamili\u0101ribus c\u014dnsultum velim, in e\u014d r\u0113s esse ut vald\u0113 possim \nadjuv\u0101re. 425. Hic pausam f\u0113cit: ego autem exspect\u0101ns etiam \ntacu\u012b. Tum d\u0113 nov\u014d incipit: Aud\u012bsse s\u0113 ex m\u0113, n\u0101vig\u0101sse m\u0113 ad \nGuineam commerci\u012b causs\u0101. S\u012b iterum vellem e\u014ddem profic\u012bsc\u012b, \nsibi am\u012bc\u012bsque gr\u0101tum fore, mihi ips\u012b fortasse n\u014dn malum. Etenim \npl\u016br\u0113s not\u0101sse, m\u0113, qu\u012b ante\u0101 hilaris str\u0113nuusque fuissem, n\u016bper \ntaciturnum \u0113v\u0101sisse, maestum, languidum. Fortasse propter \nval\u0113t\u016bdinem m\u016btandum \u0101era. Excursi\u014dnem maritimam corpor\u012b \nment\u012bque fore sal\u016bbrem. 426. Interrogant\u012b mihi, Quid autem ego \ntibi tu\u012bsque circ\u0101 Guineam sum pr\u014dfut\u016brus? respondet: Impr\u012bm\u012bs \nt\u016b rati\u014dnem hujus commerci\u012b atque id\u014dne\u0101s merc\u0113s intellegis, \nqu\u0101s hinc oporteat export\u0101re: tum, (quod est m\u0101xumum) serv\u014ds \nnigr\u012bt\u0101s, qu\u014ds volumus coemere, t\u016b cl\u0113menter reg\u0113s, s\u0101n\u014ds \nd\u0113port\u0101bis. L\u012bber\u0113 t\u0113cum d\u0113 t\u0113 loquar. Difficile est virum bon\u0101 \nfamili\u0101, h\u016bm\u0101n\u0113 \u012bnstit\u016btum, benevolum, veterem re\u012b maritimae, \nstr\u0113nuum negotiand\u014d, regend\u012b cap\u0101cem reper\u012bre, qu\u012b servitia \nv\u0113n\u0101lia conqu\u012brat. Atqu\u012b vel maxim\u0113 t\u0101l\u012b vir\u014d h\u012bc est opus. 427. \nT\u016b homin\u0113s barbar\u014ds benign\u0113 excipi\u0113s, d\u0113mulc\u0113bis, ad obsequium \nd\u016bc\u0113s l\u0113niter: ali\u012b effer\u014ds, contum\u0101c\u0113s, tr\u012bst\u0113s, vel languid\u014ds, \nmorb\u014ds\u014ds, s\u0113mimortu\u014ds important. N\u014ds t\u0113 volumus sine tu\u014d \nimpendi\u014d \u012bre. Manicipi\u0101 d\u0113 nostr\u014d coem\u0113s: d\u0113port\u0101ta inter n\u014ds \nd\u012bvid\u0113mus; t\u016b parem n\u014db\u012bs hab\u0113bis sortem. Porr\u014d, quod nunc tibi \npropter operam tuam agrestem attribu\u014d, id omne, pec\u016bni\u0101 \naestim\u0101tum, quamdi\u016b in n\u0101ve s\u012bs, solvam. 428. Nesci\u014d an laus me\u012b \nm\u0113 n\u014dnnihil oblect\u0101verit: c\u0113terum responde\u014d, adm\u012br\u0101ns s\u012b per \nr\u0113gium praefectum t\u0101lis exped\u012bti\u014d lic\u0113ret: nam r\u0113x j\u016bs \nserviti\u014drum v\u0113nditand\u014drum pauc\u012bs quibusdam propter magnam \npec\u016bniam conc\u0113dit. At ille: \u201cNihil n\u014ds contr\u0101 r\u0113gis \u0113dicta sumus \nfact\u016br\u012b. Palam n\u014dn licet v\u0113ndit\u0101re, at n\u014ds pr\u014drsus n\u014dn v\u0113nd\u0113mus. \nEt v\u0113r\u014d, qu\u014d certius r\u0113s s\u0113 habeat, m\u016bneribus quibusdam \nsag\u0101citer distrib\u016bt\u012bs effici\u0101mus ut n\u0113 nimia d\u0113 n\u0101vis onere sit \ninvest\u012bg\u0101ti\u014d. 429. Acc\u0113dit quod sacerd\u014dt\u0113s t\u0101le inceptum \nvehementer comprobant. Barbar\u014ds homin\u0113s, qu\u014drum v\u012bta (l\u012bbera \nsit, an serv\u012blis) saeva est, impia, foeda,\u2014h\u014ds in m\u0101nsu\u0113tum \nservitium sub benignit\u0101te Chr\u012bsti\u0101n\u0101 tr\u0101dere, v\u0113rae ajunt esse \npiet\u0101tis. Jam n\u0101vis par\u0101ta est; merx, qu\u0101lem t\u016b jub\u0113bis, cito \npar\u0101bitur.\u201d \n430. Neque vald\u0113 plac\u0113bat mihi neque displic\u0113bat haec exped\u012bti\u014d. \nHaud amplius juven\u0101l\u012b \u0101rd\u014dre in maria irru\u0113bam, et tamen am\u0101bam \nmare atque ipsam operum comm\u016bt\u0101ti\u014dnem. Condici\u014dn\u0113s v\u012bd\u012b aequ\u0101s \nesse, rem lucr\u014dsam, neque am\u012bc\u014ds homin\u0113s rejicere facile fuit. \nR\u0113 ponder\u0101t\u0101, d\u0113mum c\u014dns\u0113ns\u012b. Tum quasi intermortuus, s\u014dlemn\u012b \ntest\u0101ment\u014d omnia concl\u016bd\u014d. Benignum illum n\u0101vis magistrum, qu\u012b \nm\u0113 ex mar\u012b serv\u0101verat, h\u0113redem \u012bnstitu\u014d ex s\u0113misse. Alterum \ns\u0113missem re\u012b meae ad Angliam remittendum d\u0113stin\u014d, c\u014dnscr\u012bb\u014dque \nsingill\u0101tim, quid opus fact\u014d sit. S\u0101n\u0113, s\u012b, ut in test\u0101ment\u014d fu\u012b \npr\u014dvidus, s\u012bc in v\u012bt\u0101 d\u012brigend\u0101 fuissem sag\u0101x, numquam tant\u0101s \naerumn\u0101s exsul ab hominis genere forem perpessus. \n431. Jamque par\u0101t\u012bs r\u0113bus omnibus, solvimus \u0101 port\u016b ips\u012bs N\u014dn\u012bs, \nAugust\u014d m\u0113nse. Pr\u012bm\u014d ad septemtri\u014dn\u0113s n\u0101vig\u0101vimus, paene l\u012btus \nAmericae nostrae legent\u0113s, tempest\u0101te bon\u0101, dumtaxat vehementer \ncalid\u0101, d\u014dnec ad pr\u014dmontorium August\u012bni\u0101num d\u0113v\u0113nimus. Inde ad \nAquil\u014dn\u0113s versus, tamquam ad \u012bnsulam Ferdinand\u012b Ner\u014dni\u0101n\u012b \nd\u012br\u0113ximus cursum, citoque terram condidimus. Duodecim\u014d di\u0113 turb\u014d \nvent\u014drum ex Austr\u014d conversus d\u0113torqu\u0113tur in Eurum, inde in \nAquil\u014dnem, violenti\u0101 semper aug\u0113sc\u0113ns. 432. N\u014ds, multum contr\u0101 \nluct\u0101t\u012b, necess\u0101ri\u014d tempest\u0101te d\u0113ferimur. \u0112 sod\u0101lici\u014d \u016bnus vir \nfebre victus d\u0113cessit: mox nauta ac puer, superscandente fl\u016bct\u016b, \nasportantur. Ut potuit magister, paulum d\u0113cr\u0113scente vent\u014d, \ncaelum observ\u0101re, cr\u0113didit n\u014ds prope Septentri\u014dn\u0101le continentis \nl\u012btus, circ\u0101 Orinoc\u014dnis \u014dstia, d\u0113vect\u014ds. N\u0101vem negat Atlanticum \nmare tr\u0101jiciend\u012b jam esse compotem: igitur m\u0113 in c\u014dnsilium \nadhibit\u014d, r\u0113ct\u0101 domum redeundum c\u0113nset. Id v\u0113r\u014d vehementer n\u014dl\u014d; \n\u012bnspect\u014dque mar\u012b in chart\u012bs d\u0113scr\u012bpt\u014d, su\u0101de\u014d ut Barb\u0101dam petat, \nv\u012bt\u0101t\u014d aest\u016bs d\u0113curs\u016b, qu\u012b sinum M\u0113xic\u0101num invehitur. 433. Ille \nc\u014dns\u0113nsit n\u0113 redeat, cl\u0101vumque ita flectit, ut qu\u012b in aliqu\u014d \nAngl\u0101rum Antillium port\u016b cupiat n\u0101vem reficere. H\u0101c sp\u0113 \nadductus, iterum n\u014ds in altum committit: attamen novae procellae \n\u012bnfort\u016bn\u0101tam n\u0101vem excipiunt. D\u0113nique, n\u0113 longus sim, multum \nreluct\u0101t\u012b, in h\u0101s ips\u0101s ar\u0113n\u0101s d\u0113pellimur, ubi vestra n\u0101vis \naffl\u012bcta est. Sed n\u014ds, scaph\u0101 c\u014dnant\u0113s effugere, sal\u014d maris \nobrut\u012b sumus, unde ego s\u014dlus \u0113v\u0101s\u012b v\u012bvus. C\u0113terum n\u0101vis ad \npl\u0113nil\u016bnium d\u016br\u0101vit incolumis, et praebuit mihi, n\u014dn v\u012bctum \nmodo, sed paene \u012bnsulae hujus imperium. \n434. T\u0101lia ubi d\u012bxeram, multa inter s\u0113 colloquuntur, atque alia \ninterrogant, quibus Gelavium respond\u0113re jube\u014d: s\u012bc vari\u014d serm\u014dne \nf\u012bn\u012btus est di\u0113s. Nocte m\u016bt\u0101tur ventus. Pr\u012bm\u0101 l\u016bce magister mihi \naperit, r\u0113mig\u0113s nunc posse multum adjuv\u0101re; d\u0113 qu\u014d pr\u014dtinus \nn\u016bntium m\u012bs\u012b. H\u014dr\u0101 ante mer\u012bdiem decem cum ips\u014d Cortope v\u0113n\u0113re. \nMe\u012b quoque omn\u0113s congreg\u0101bantur, inter qu\u014ds (ign\u014dscat l\u0113ctor!) \ncanem paene lacrim\u0101ns aspici\u014d. Hunc, ill\u012bs tam \u016btilem, asport\u0101re \nn\u014dlu\u012b: illud dol\u0113bam, quod f\u0113minam canem n\u014dn potu\u012b simul dare, \nn\u0113 ipsum genus per\u012bret. 435. Mox solvunt ancoram. Mov\u0113tur n\u0101vis \ncum aest\u016b, remulc\u012b applicantur, fl\u016bmen d\u0113scendimus. V\u014dcibus, \nvult\u016b, gest\u016b, pl\u0113n\u012bs c\u0101rit\u0101te, pl\u0113n\u012bs item magn\u014d maer\u014dre, \ndisc\u0113dimus. Ad caelum surgit cor meum, quaeritantis ecquand\u014d \neccubi h\u014dsce tam fid\u0113l\u0113s, tam bon\u014ds iterum conveniam. Gelavium \nocul\u012b me\u012b anqu\u012brunt fr\u016bstr\u0101: fortasse propter dol\u014drem s\u0113 \noccult\u0101bat. \u0100 terr\u0101 jam rec\u0113d\u0113ns, \u0113gregiam \u012bnsulae \npulchrit\u016bdinem adm\u012bror. Numquam s\u0101n\u0113 algae, frutic\u0113ta, \npraegrand\u0113s arbor\u0113s, palm\u0113ta, coll\u0113s, aqua purpurea, caelum \ncl\u0101rissimum, tam digna mihi ante\u0101 v\u012bsa sunt Parad\u012bs\u014d. S\u012bc \nr\u0113mig\u0113s n\u014ds trahunt, quamdi\u016b magistr\u014d id t\u016btius vid\u0113r\u0113tur. 436. \nUt pr\u012bmum in alt\u014d sumus et r\u012bte concinnantur v\u0113la, magister mihi \nsignificat ut d\u012bmittam lintr\u0113s. Tum vide\u014d Gelavium, loc\u014d \nCortopis, i\u012bs esse praefectum. Is proper\u0113 n\u0101vem scandit, genua \nmea complectitur; et ante\u0101 quam verba possim ill\u014d m\u014dment\u014d digna \nfingere, recesserat, \u0113v\u0101serat. Extempl\u014d inter lintr\u0113s ac n\u0101vem \nmagnum exstitit interv\u0101llum. D\u0113scend\u014d in cellam meam, animum \nvari\u012bs m\u014dtibus distractum, piet\u0101te, s\u012b possim recoll\u0113ct\u016brus. \n437. Ad Caurum, quantum sineret ventus, semper contend\u0113b\u0101mus. \nPostquam quadr\u0101gint\u0101 fer\u0113 m\u012bllia curs\u016bs f\u0113cimus, n\u0101vis Eur\u014dpaea \napp\u0101ret; merc\u0101t\u014dria n\u0101vis, ut cr\u0113dimus. Eam versus r\u0113ct\u0101 \ntend\u0113ns, magister cann\u014dn\u0113s opem precant\u0113s person\u0101r\u012b jubet. Mox \nper pr\u014dspecul\u0101 v\u0113xillum vid\u0113mus Anglicum. \u201cForsitan (inquit \nmagister) ill\u0101 citius in n\u0101ve quam in me\u0101 patriam atting\u0101s.\u201d Id \nm\u0113 dubit\u0101ti\u014dne conturbat. Poste\u0101 aj\u014d, s\u012b maxim\u0113 illa n\u0101vis r\u0113ct\u0101 \nad Angliam properet, praestat praemon\u0113re parent\u0113s, v\u012bvere m\u0113 ac \nven\u012bre. Dein memin\u012b, quoniam pr\u014d fabr\u014d operam loc\u0101ssem meam, \naequius esse, ut n\u0113, nisi co\u0101ctus, pactum abrumperem; et \nquidquid re\u012b pec\u016bni\u0101riae inter m\u0113 et magistrum pend\u0113ret, id \nbenignius \u0101 soci\u012bs ejus aestim\u0101tum \u012br\u012b, s\u012b tunc n\u0101v\u012b adhaer\u0113rem. \n438. Igitur proper\u0113 litter\u0101s c\u014dnscr\u012bb\u014d, quae ad patrem meum \ntr\u0101derentur, s\u012b forte n\u0101vis illa perferret. Quand\u014d conven\u012bmus, \nmagister noster quaerit ab i\u012bs, qu\u0101nam in longit\u016bdine terrestr\u012b \nvers\u0113mur. Ill\u012b c\u014dnfestim et longit\u016bdinem et l\u0101tit\u016bdinem n\u014db\u012bs \npr\u014dn\u016bntiant; ajunt porr\u014d Angliam s\u0113 d\u012br\u0113ct\u0101 petere. Magister \nme\u0101s ali\u0101sque \u0101 s\u0113 litter\u0101s i\u012bs tr\u0101dit; mox inter utr\u014dsque \ndisc\u0113ditur. 439. Jamaicam sine nox\u0101 attigimus: h\u012bc f\u012bnis mihi \nerat vagand\u012b. D\u012bv\u0113ndit\u0101 merce atque ali\u0101 merce ass\u016bmpt\u0101, iterum \nsolvimus, et minus qu\u012bnqu\u0101gint\u0101 di\u0113bus in Bristoliae port\u016b \nrecondimur. Inde epistolam ad patrem scr\u012bb\u014d, et tenerrim\u014d \nresp\u014dns\u014d exhilaror. 440. Tr\u0101ns\u0101ct\u012bs fest\u012bnanter negoti\u012bs, ali\u0101s \nlitter\u0101s ad Braz\u012bliam comp\u014dn\u014d. Quidquid d\u0113 me\u0101 r\u0113 ex me\u014d \ntest\u0101ment\u014d f\u0113cisset optimus et am\u012bcissimus meus h\u0113r\u0113s, cr\u0113d\u0113ns \nm\u0113 mortuum, id omne c\u014dnfirm\u014d. Quidquid ex r\u0113 n\u0101vis magistr\u012b \nill\u012bus, qu\u012b in naufragi\u014d periit, apud m\u0113 tene\u014d,\u2014h\u014drologia, aurum \nHisp\u0101num, aliaque,\u2014haec et s\u012b cujus al\u012bus re\u012b pretium exc\u0113perim, \nsponde\u014d repar\u0101re. Omn\u0113s ibi am\u012bc\u014ds salv\u0113re jube\u014d. 441. Tum \nproper\u014d ad parent\u0113s, port\u0101ns m\u0113cum documenta illa fid\u0113lium \nministr\u014drum, r\u0113giam tegetem dorsu\u0101lem, praec\u012bnct\u014drium, \ncalce\u0101menta, item cl\u0101vam bellicam vir\u012b occ\u012bs\u012b. Nec di\u016b est, quum \nEbor\u0101c\u012b ad c\u0101rissim\u014drum ac di\u016b negl\u0113ct\u014drum perting\u014d sinum, \nsenect\u016bt\u012b patris m\u0101trisque tener\u0101 piet\u0101te opitul\u0101t\u016brus.\nGLOSSARY.\nAcus sarcin\u0101ria, packing needle.\n\u0100mentum, a loop, thong with loop.\nArgilla vitre\u0101ria, glazier\u2019s putty.\n\u2020Artill\u0101tor, the gunner of a ship.\nAurea m\u0101la, oranges.\nBatillum, coal shovel.\nBlatta, chafer or beetle.\nCapis, -idis, jug, mug, tankard.\n\u2020Cann\u014dn, -\u014dnis, a cannon.\nCinch\u014dna, Peruvian bark.\nCochlear, -\u0101re, a spoon.\nC\u014dnf\u012bbula, a clamp.\nCulter plic\u0101tilis, a clasp-knife.\nC\u016bpa nat\u0101ns, a buoy.\nCymba, a skiff.\nDactylus, \u2020Datta, a date (fruit).\nDiaeta, cabin of ship.\n\u2020Diosc\u014drea, a yam.\nForceps, pincers.\nForfex, shears, scissors.\nFrutic\u014ds, shrubs.\nFurcilla, table fork.\n\u2020Grall\u0101t\u014dres, wading birds.\n\u2020Grossul\u0101rius, gooseberry.\nHasta cun\u012bcul\u0101ria, miner\u2019s pike.\nHelcia, traces.\nH\u014drologium, clock or watch.\n\u2020Ignipulta, a gun.\n\u012anfula, turban.\nR\u0113s Jacul\u0101t\u014dria, gunnery.\nL\u014dd\u012bc\u0259s, blankets.\nL\u014dr\u012bca, (ship\u2019s) parapet or bulwark.\n\u2020Macacus, monkey.\nMagis, -idis, rolling pin.\n\u014ctid\u0113s, bustards.\nPessulum, a bolt.\nPodium, outjutting ledge, balcony.\nPr\u014dspeculum, small telescope.\n\u2020Pistola, pistol.\nPulvis nitr\u0101tus, gunpowder.\nRiscus, a rude box, a chest.\nRubus, bramble, as blackberry bush.\nRut\u0101bulum, coal rake.\n\u2020Sag\u014d, -\u014dnis, sago.\n\u2020S\u0101p\u014d, -\u014dnis, soap.\n\u2020Saccharum, sugar.\nScapha, ship\u2019s boat.\nScr\u012bnium, dispatch box, desk.\nS\u012bnum, a bowl.\nStelli\u014d, small lizard.\nSublica, pile, stake, support.\nS\u016bbula, bodkin.\nSucc\u012bdia, a slice.\nSucculae, a windlass?\nS\u016bd\u0101rium, pocket handkerchief.\nSufferci\u014d, I load (a gun).\nSupparum, topsail.\nT\u012bbi\u0101l\u0113s, stockings.\nToll\u0113n\u014d, a crane for lifting.\nTraha, a sledge; dimin. \u2020Trahula.\nTrochlea, a pulley; dimin. Trochleola.\nTunica, a shirt.\nVespertili\u014d, a (flying) bat.\nZ\u0113a, maize.\n[A] A crane,\u2014with windlass.\n[B] A buoy.\n[C] The cabin.\n[D] Windlass.\n[E] Pulleys.\n[F] Orange trees.\n[G] He is looking southward.\n[H] Stockings.\n[I] A rolling pin.\n[J] Shirt.\n[K] Stockings.\n[L] Monkey.\n[M] Gooseberries.\n[N] Bodkin.\n[O] Select.\n[P] Auger.\n[Q] Cutter (chisel?)\n[R] All but, tantum non.\n[S] Thatch.\n[T] Hood.\n[U] A gutter.\n[V] Glazier\u2019s putty.\n[W] A Greek word: Bustards.\n[X] Make lighter.\n[Y] Frying Pan.\nEDITION NOTES\nThis version of Rebilius Cr\u016bs\u014d differs in a number of points \nfrom the version originally published and edited on the Project \nGutenberg in its primary form. The work was published with the \nmain goal of an easier learning of Latin, and in particular of \nvocabulary, at a time when the oral distinction of the length of \nvowels was not a major concern (neither were the phonemes \nthemselves), because the language was mostly written. This means \nthat the work was published indicating the vowel length only to \ndistinguish ambiguous forms (even sometimes with anomalies), the \nreader having to rely on already knowing the word (which defeats \nthe purpose of the book), look up a dictionary for every new \nword, or learn the word without worrying about vowel length. \nNowadays, the teaching of Latin tends to focus more on \npronunciation and vowel length, so that such older works lose \nmuch of their interest, and even display aberrant forms that \nshouldn\u2019t be considered as a reference. The solution is to \nprovide a revised version that allows an easy access to vowel \nlength, while adding some other fixes, such as follows:\nFirst the correction of a number of printing errors \nNext, the systematic distinction of long vowels from short ones \nusing macrons. Ambiguous forms were left as short. As for \nneologisms, some research was done in order to get the best \napproximation. Some guesswork was done on coined proper names, \nwith sobriety. And some rare words of which the origin is \nunknown, were mostly left untouched. \nFinally, the way in which the words are written is \ncharacteristic of New Latin, initially aiming to restore the \npurity of the language compared to Medieval Latin, but itself \nsuffering from a spelling influenced by folk etymology or bad \nlitterary sources, thus disfiguring a certain number of words. \nWherever such alterations have been spotted, they have been \nreplaced in favor of the original most common spelling. Among \nall these changes, only a few have an effect on the grammar, or \nthe very nature of the word.\nPlease also note that the original \nversion noted adverbs with a grave accent on the last vowel of \nthe word, as well as some other small aids for reading. This is \na typical habit of New Latin, and isn't in use anymore in more \nmodern books, especially when macrons are used, so they were not \nkept in this version. \nFixed printing errors: (this list may be useful even for the\noriginal version) \n15 relliquias > reliquias\n25 sustentata > sustentatam\n33 quator > quatuor\n51 consuctudine > consuetudine\n74 tanquem > tanquam\n118 arcorali > ancorali\n126 cos > eos\n130 totu > tota\n164 annulo lori > annulo loreo\n180 pictatis > pietatis\n203 plautandis > plantandis\n229 exsecro > exsecror\n230 persequunter > persequuntur\n231 duo > duos\n239 duo > duos\n256 humeros > humeris\n273 quodem > quodam\n304 colloquinur > colloquimur\n314 coxisso > coxisse\n341 recensito > recenso\n345 eredebat > credebat\n347 forenus > foremus\n368 dicitis > dicis\n382 cannonas > cannones\n397 mirantibua > mirantibus\n404 gossipii > gossypii\n407 otidas > otides\n410 procedento > procedente\n420 excolebatur > excolebantur\nExamples of spelling changes.\n* confusion between \u0153, \u00e6 and \u0113 (folk etymology and broken\n  pronunciation)\n* seorsim > seorsum (folk etymology/corruption)\n* -mt- > -mpt- (excessive purism leading to unconventional\n  forms)\n* -nq- > -mq- [when it applies] (mostly New Latin spelling)\n* indies > in dies (non-standard contraction)\n* intelligo > intellego (less-standard spelling)\n* del\u0115go > deligo (non-standard form that creates confusion)\n* -mist- > -mixt- (rarer form)\n* fasciculum > fasciculus (bad grammatical genre)\n* cratibula > craticula (corruption)\n* cons\u012ddeo > cons\u012bdo (as \u201csit down\u201d, \u201csettle\u201d, the form\n  cons\u012ddeo isn't standard)\n* assis -is f (acc -im abl -i) > axis -is m (very uncommon\n  variant absent from most dictionaries)\n* arctus > artus (folk etymology)\n* nuncius > nuntius (corruption due to bad pronunciation)\n* some changes from i to j\n* and also double consonants changed to simple ones, and\n  reciprocally", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Rebilius Cr\u016bs\u014d\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Transcribed form the 1889 George Bell and Sons edition by David Price,\nemail ccx074@coventry.ac.uk\nDICKORY CRONKE\nTHE\nDUMB PHILOSOPHER,\nOR,\nGREAT BRITAIN'S WONDER;\nCONTAINING:\nI.  A faithful and very surprising Account how Dickory Cronke, a Tinner's\nson, in the County of Cornwall, was born Dumb, and continued so for Fifty-\neight years; and how, some days before he died, he came to his Speech;\nwith Memoirs of his Life, and the Manner of his Death.\nII.  A Declaration of his Faith and Principles in Religion; with a\nCollection of Select Meditations, composed in his Retirement.\nIII.  His Prophetical Observations upon the Affairs of Europe, more\nparticularly of Great Britain, from 1720 to 1729.  The whole extracted\nfrom his Original Papers, and confirmed by unquestionable Authority.\nTO WHICH IS ANNEXED HIS ELEGY,\nWRITTEN BY A YOUNG CORNISH GENTLEMAN, OF\nEXETER COLLEGE IN OXFORD.\nWITH\nAN EPITAPH BY ANOTHER HAND.\n   \"Non quis, sed quid.\"\nLONDON:\nPrinted for and Sold by THOMAS BICKERTON, at\nthe Crown, in Paternoster Row.  1719.\nPREFACE\nThe formality of a preface to this little book might have been very well\nomitted, if it were not to gratify the curiosity of some inquisitive\npeople, who, I foresee, will be apt to make objections against the\nreality of the narrative.\nIndeed the public has too often been imposed upon by fictitious stories,\nand some of a very late date, so that I think myself obliged by the usual\nrespect which is paid to candid and impartial readers, to acquaint them,\nby way of introduction, with what they are to expect, and what they may\ndepend upon, and yet with this caution too, that it is an indication of\nill nature or ill manners, if not both, to pry into a secret that is\nindustriously concealed.\nHowever, that there may be nothing wanting on my part, I do hereby assure\nthe reader, that the papers from whence the following sheets were\nextracted, are now in town, in the custody of a person of unquestionable\nreputation, who, I will be bold to say, will not only be ready, but\nproud, to produce them upon a good occasion, and that I think is as much\nsatisfaction as the nature of this case requires.\nAs to the performance, it can signify little now to make an apology upon\nthat account, any farther than this, that if the reader pleases he may\ntake notice that what he has now before him was collected from a large\nbundle of papers, most of which were writ in shorthand, and very\nill-digested.  However, this may be relied upon, that though the language\nis something altered, and now and then a word thrown in to help the\nexpression, yet strict care has been taken to speak the author's mind,\nand keep as close as possible to the meaning of the original.  For the\ndesign, I think there is nothing need be said in vindication of that.\nHere is a dumb philosopher introduced to a wicked and degenerate\ngeneration, as a proper emblem of virtue and morality; and if the world\ncould be persuaded to look upon him with candour and impartiality, and\nthen to copy after him, the editor has gained his end, and would think\nhimself sufficiently recompensed for his present trouble.\nPART I\nAmong the many strange and surprising events that help to fill the\naccounts of this last century, I know none that merit more an entire\ncredit, or are more fit to be preserved and handed to posterity than\nthose I am now going to lay before the public.\nDickory Cronke, the subject of the following narrative, was born at a\nlittle hamlet, near St. Columb, in Cornwall, on the 29th of May, 1660,\nbeing the day and year in which King Charles the Second was restored.  His\nparents were of mean extraction, but honest, industrious people, and well\nbeloved in their neighbourhood.  His father's chief business was to work\nat the tin mines; his mother stayed at home to look after the children,\nof which they had several living at the same time.  Our Dickory was the\nyoungest, and being but a sickly child, had always a double portion of\nher care and tenderness.\nIt was upwards of three years before it was discovered that he was born\ndumb, the knowledge of which at first gave his mother great uneasiness,\nbut finding soon after that he had his hearing, and all his other senses\nto the greatest perfection, her grief began to abate, and she resolved to\nhave him brought up as well as their circumstances and his capacity would\npermit.\nAs he grew, notwithstanding his want of speech, he every day gave some\ninstance of a ready genius, and a genius much superior to the country\nchildren, insomuch that several gentlemen in the neighbourhood took\nparticular notice of him, and would often call him Restoration Dick, and\ngive him money, &c.\nWhen he came to be eight years of age, his mother agreed with a person in\nthe next village, to teach him to read and write, both which, in a very\nshort time, he acquired to such perfection, especially the latter, that\nhe not only taught his own brothers and sisters, but likewise several\nyoung men and women in the neighbourhood, which often brought him in\nsmall sums, which he always laid out in such necessaries as he stood most\nin need of.\nIn this state he continued till he was about twenty, and then he began to\nreflect how scandalous it was for a young man of his age and\ncircumstances to live idle at home, and so resolves to go with his father\nto the mines, to try if he could get something towards the support of\nhimself and the family; but being of a tender constitution, and often\nsick, he soon perceived that sort of business was too hard for him, so\nwas forced to return home and continue in his former station; upon which\nhe grew exceeding melancholy, which his mother observing, she comforted\nhim in the best manner she could, telling him that if it should please\nGod to take her away, she had something left in store for him, which\nwould preserve him against public want.\nThis kind assurance from a mother whom he so dearly loved gave him some,\nthough not an entire satisfaction; however, he resolves to acquiesce\nunder it till Providence should order something for him more to his\ncontent and advantage, which, in a short time happened according to his\nwish.  The manner was thus:--\nOne Mr. Owen Parry, a Welsh gentleman of good repute, coming from Bristol\nto Padstow, a little seaport in the county of Cornwall, near the place\nwhere Dickory dwelt, and hearing much of this dumb man's perfections,\nwould needs have him sent for; and finding, by his significant gestures\nand all outward appearances that he much exceeded the character that the\ncountry gave of him, took a mighty liking to him, insomuch that he told\nhim, if he would go with him into Pembrokeshire, he would be kind to him,\nand take care of him as long as he lived.\nThis kind and unexpected offer was so welcome to poor Dickory, that\nwithout any farther consideration, he got a pen and ink and writ a note,\nand in a very handsome and submissive manner returned him thanks for his\nfavour, assuring him he would do his best to continue and improve it; and\nthat he would be ready to wait upon him whenever he should be pleased to\ncommand.\nTo shorten the account as much as possible, all things were concluded to\ntheir mutual satisfaction, and in about a fortnight's time they set\nforward for Wales, where Dickory, notwithstanding his dumbness, behaved\nhimself with so much diligence and affability, that he not only gained\nthe love of the family where he lived, but of everybody round him.\nIn this station he continued till the death of his master, which happened\nabout twenty years afterwards; in all which time, as has been confirmed\nby several of the family, he was never observed to be any ways disguised\nby drinking, or to be guilty of any of the follies and irregularities\nincident to servants in gentlemen's houses.  On the contrary, when he had\nany spare time, his constant custom was to retire with some good book\ninto a private place within call, and there employ himself in reading,\nand then writing down his observations upon what he read.\nAfter the death of his master, whose loss afflicted him to the last\ndegree, one Mrs. Mary Mordant, a gentlewoman of great virtue and piety,\nand a very good fortune, took him into her service, and carried him with\nher, first to Bath, and then to Bristol, where, after a lingering\ndistemper, which continued for about four years, she died likewise.\nUpon the loss of his mistress, Dickory grew again exceeding melancholy\nand disconsolate; at length, reflecting that death is but a common debt\nwhich all mortals owe to nature, and must be paid sooner or later, he\nbecame a little better satisfied, and so determines to get together what\nhe had saved in his service, and then to return to his native country,\nand there finish his life in privacy and retirement.\nHaving been, as has been mentioned, about twenty-four years a servant,\nand having, in the interim, received two legacies, viz., one of thirty\npounds, left him by his master, and another of fifteen pounds by his\nmistress, and being always very frugal, he had got by him in the whole\nupwards of sixty pounds.  This, thinks he, with prudent management, will\nbe enough to support me as long as I live, and so I'll e'en lay aside all\nthoughts of future business, and make the best of my way to Cornwall, and\nthere find out some safe and solitary retreat, where I may have liberty\nto meditate and make my melancholy observations upon the several\noccurrences of human life.\nThis resolution prevailed so far, that no time was let slip to get\neverything in readiness to go with the first ship.  As to his money, he\nalways kept that locked up by him, unless he sometimes lent it to a\nfriend without interest, for he had a mortal hatred to all sorts of usury\nor extortion.  His books, of which he had a considerable quantity, and\nsome of them very good ones, together with his other equipage, he got\npacked up, that nothing might be wanting against the first opportunity.\nIn a few days he heard of a vessel bound to Padstow, the very port he\nwished to go to, being within four or five miles of the place where he\nwas born.  When he came thither, which was in less than a week, his first\nbusiness was to inquire after the state of his family.  It was some time\nbefore he could get any information of them, until an old man that knew\nhis father and mother, and remembered they had a son was born dumb,\nrecollected him, and after a great deal of difficulty, made him\nunderstand that all his family except his youngest sister were dead, and\nthat she was a widow, and lived at a little town called St. Helen's,\nabout ten miles farther in the country.\nThis doleful news, we must imagine, must be extremely shocking, and add a\nnew sting to his former affliction; and here it was that he began to\nexercise the philosopher, and to demonstrate himself both a wise and a\ngood man.  All these things, thinks he, are the will of Providence, and\nmust not be disputed; and so he bore up under them with an entire\nresignation, resolving that, as soon as he could find a place where he\nmight deposit his trunk and boxes with safety, he would go to St. Helen's\nin quest of his sister.\nHow his sister and he met, and how transported they were to see each\nother after so long an interval, I think is not very material.  It is\nenough for the present purpose that Dickory soon recollected his sister,\nand she him; and after a great many endearing tokens of love and\ntenderness, he wrote to her, telling her that he believed Providence had\nbestowed on him as much as would support him as long as he lived, and\nthat if she thought proper he would come and spend the remainder of his\ndays with her.\nThe good woman no sooner read his proposal than she accepted it, adding,\nwithal, that she could wish her entertainment was better; but if he would\naccept of it as it was, she would do her best to make everything easy,\nand that he should be welcome upon his own terms, to stay with her as\nlong as he pleased.\nThis affair being so happily settled to his full satisfaction, he returns\nto Padstow to fetch the things he had left behind him, and the next day\ncame back to St. Helen's, where, according to his own proposal, he\ncontinued to the day of his death, which happened upon the 29th of May,\n1718, about the same hour in which he was born.\nHaving thus given a short detail of the several periods of his life,\nextracted chiefly from the papers which he left behind him, I come in the\nnext place to make a few observations how he managed himself and spent\nhis time toward the latter part of it.\nHis constant practice, both winter and summer, was to rise and set with\nthe sun; and if the weather would permit, he never failed to walk in some\nunfrequented place, for three hours, both morning and evening, and there\nit is supposed he composed the following meditations.  The chief part of\nhis sustenance was milk, with a little bread boiled in it, of which in\nthe morning, after his walk, he would eat the quantity of a pint, and\nsometimes more.  Dinners he never eat any; and at night he would only\nhave a pretty large piece of bread, and drink a draught of good spring\nwater; and after this method he lived during the whole time he was at St.\nHelen's.  It is observed of him that he never slept out of a bed, nor\nnever lay awake in one; which I take to be an argument, not only of a\nstrong and healthful constitution, but of a mind composed and calm, and\nentirely free from the ordinary disturbances of human life.  He never\ngave the least signs of complaint or dissatisfaction at anything, unless\nit was when he heard the tinners swear, or saw them drunk; and then, too,\nhe would get out of the way as soon as he had let them see, by some\nsignificant signs, how scandalous and ridiculous they made themselves;\nand against the next time he met them, would be sure to have a paper\nready written, wherein he would represent the folly of drunkenness, and\nthe dangerous consequences that generally attended it.\nIdleness was his utter aversion, and if at any time he had finished the\nbusiness of the day, and was grown weary of reading and writing, in which\nhe daily spent six hours at least, he would certainly find something\neither within doors or without, to employ himself.\nMuch might be said both with regard to the wise and regular management,\nand the prudent methods he took to spend his time well towards the\ndeclension of his life; but, as his history may perhaps be shortly\npublished at large by a better hand, I shall only observe in the general,\nthat he was a person of great wisdom and sagacity.  He understood nature\nbeyond the ordinary capacity, and, if he had had a competency of learning\nsuitable to his genius, neither this nor the former ages would have\nproduced a better philosopher or a greater man.\nI come next to speak of the manner of his death and the consequences\nthereof, which are, indeed, very surprising, and, perhaps, not altogether\nunworthy a general observation.  I shall relate them as briefly as I can,\nand leave every one to believe or disbelieve as he thinks proper.\nUpon the 26th of May, 1718, according to his usual method, about four in\nthe afternoon, he went out to take his evening walk; but before he could\nreach the place he intended, he was siezed with an apoplectic fit, which\nonly gave him liberty to sit down under a tree, where, in an instant, he\nwas deprived of all manner of sense and motion, and so he continued, as\nappears by his own confession afterwards, for more than fourteen hours.\nHis sister, who knew how exact he was in all his methods, finding him\nstay a considerable time beyond the usual hour, concludes that some\nmisfortune must needs have happened to him, or he would certainly have\nbeen at home before.  In short, she went immediately to all the places he\nwas wont to frequent, but nothing could be heard or seen of him till the\nnext morning, when a young man, as he was going to work, discovered him,\nand went home and told his sister that her brother lay in such a place,\nunder a tree, and, as he believed had been robbed and murdered.\nThe poor woman, who had all night been under the most dreadful\napprehensions, was now frightened and confounded to the last degree.\nHowever, recollecting herself, and finding there was no remedy, she got\ntwo or three of her neighbours to bear her company, and so hastened with\nthe young man to the tree, where she found her brother lying in the same\nposture that he had described.\nThe dismal object at first view startled and surprised everybody present,\nand filled them full of different notions and conjectures.  But some of\nthe company going nearer to him, and finding that he had lost nothing,\nand that there were no marks of any violence to be discovered about him,\nthey conclude that it must be an apoplectic or some other sudden fit that\nhad surprised him in his walk, upon which his sister and the rest began\nto feel his hands and face, and observing that he was still warm, and\nthat there were some symptoms of life yet remaining, they conclude that\nthe best way was to carry him home to bed, which was accordingly done\nwith the utmost expedition.\nWhen they had got him into the bed, nothing was omitted that they could\nthink of to bring him to himself, but still he continued utterly\ninsensible for about six hours.  At the sixth hour's end he began to move\na little, and in a very short time was so far recovered, to the great\nastonishment of everybody about him, that he was able to look up, and to\nmake a sign to his sister to bring him a cup of water.\nAfter he had drunk the water he soon perceived that all his faculties\nwere returned to their former stations, and though his strength was very\nmuch abated by the length and rigour of the fit, yet his intellects were\nas strong and vigorous as ever.\nHis sister observing him to look earnestly upon the company, as if he had\nsomething extraordinary to communicate to them, fetched him a pen and ink\nand a sheet of paper, which, after a short pause, he took, and wrote as\nfollows:--\n   \"Dear sister,\n   \"I have now no need of pen, ink, and paper, to tell you my meaning.  I\n   find the strings that bound up my tongue, and hindered me from\n   speaking, are unloosed, and I have words to express myself as freely\n   and distinctly as any other person.  From whence this strange and\n   unexpected event should proceed, I must not pretend to say, any\n   farther than this, that it is doubtless the hand of Providence that\n   has done it, and in that I ought to acquiesce.  Pray let me be alone\n   for two or three hours, that I may be at liberty to compose myself,\n   and put my thoughts in the best order I can before I leave them behind\nThe poor woman, though extremely startled at what her brother had\nwritten, yet took care to conceal it from the neighbours, who, she knew,\nas well as she, must be mightily surprised at a thing so utterly\nunexpected.  Says she, my brother desires to be alone; I believe he may\nhave something in his mind that disturbs him.  Upon which the neighbours\ntook their leave and returned home, and his sister shut the door, and\nleft him alone to his private contemplations.\nAfter the company were withdrawn he fell into a sound sleep, which lasted\nfrom two till six, and his sister, being apprehensive of the return of\nhis fit, came to the bedside, and, asking softly if he wanted anything,\nhe turned about to her and spoke to this effect: Dear sister, you see me\nnot only recovered out of a terrible fit, but likewise that I have the\nliberty of speech, a blessing that I have been deprived of almost sixty\nyears, and I am satisfied you are sincerely joyful to find me in the\nstate I now am in; but, alas! it is but a mistaken kindness.  These are\nthings but of short duration, and if they were to continue for a hundred\nyears longer, I can't see how I should be anyways the better.\nI know the world too well to be fond of it, and am fully satisfied that\nthe difference between a long and a short life is insignificant,\nespecially when I consider the accidents and company I am to encounter.\nDo but look seriously and impartially upon the astonishing notion of time\nand eternity, what an immense deal has run out already, and how infinite\nit is still in the future; do but seriously and deliberately consider\nthis, and you will find, upon the whole, that three days and three ages\nof life come much to the same measure and reckoning.\nAs soon as he had ended his discourse upon the vanity and uncertainty of\nhuman life, he looked steadfastly upon her.  Sister, says he, I conjure\nyou not to be disturbed at what I am going to tell you, which you will\nundoubtedly find to be true in every particular.  I perceive my glass is\nrun, and I have now no more to do in this world but to take my leave of\nit; for to-morrow about this time my speech will be again taken from me,\nand, in a short time, my fit will return; and the next day, which I\nunderstand is the day on which I came into this troublesome world, I\nshall exchange it for another, where, for the future, I shall for ever be\nfree from all manner of sin and sufferings.\nThe good woman would have made him a reply, but he prevented her by\ntelling her he had no time to hearken to unnecessary complaints or\nanimadversions.  I have a great many things in my mind, says he, that\nrequire a speedy and serious consideration.  The time I have to stay is\nbut short, and I have a great deal of important business to do in it.\nTime and death are both in my view, and seem both to call aloud to me to\nmake no delay.  I beg of you, therefore, not to disquiet yourself or me.\nWhat must be, must be.  The decrees of Providence are eternal and\nunalterable; why, then, should we torment ourselves about that which we\ncannot remedy?\nI must confess, my dear sister, I owe you many obligations for your\nexemplary fondness to me, and do solemnly assure you I shall retain the\nsense of them to the last moment.  All that I have to request of you is,\nthat I may be alone for this night.  I have it in my thoughts to leave\nsome short observations behind me, and likewise to discover some things\nof great weight which have been revealed to me, which may perhaps be of\nsome use hereafter to you and your friends.  What credit they may meet\nwith I cannot say, but depend the consequence, according to their\nrespective periods, will account for them, and vindicate them against the\nsupposition of falsity and mere suggestion.\nUpon this, his sister left him till about four in the morning, when\ncoming to his bedside to know if he wanted anything, and how he had\nrested, he made her this answer; I have been taking a cursory view of my\nlife, and though I find myself exceedingly deficient in several\nparticulars, yet I bless God I cannot find I have any just grounds to\nsuspect my pardon.  In short, says he, I have spent this night with more\ninward pleasure and true satisfaction than ever I spent a night through\nthe whole course of my life.\nAfter he had concluded what he had to say upon the satisfaction that\nattended an innocent and well-spent life, and observed what a mighty\nconsolation it was to persons, not only under the apprehension, but even\nin the very agonies of death itself, he desired her to bring him his\nusual cup of water, and then to help him on with his clothes, that he\nmight sit up, and so be in a better posture to take his leave of her and\nher friends.\nWhen she had taken him up, and placed him at a table where he usually\nsat, he desired her to bring him his box of papers, and after he had\ncollected those he intended should be preserved, he ordered her to bring\na candle, that he might see the rest burnt.  The good woman seemed at\nfirst to oppose the burning of his papers, till he told her they were\nonly useless trifles, some unfinished observations which he had made in\nhis youthful days, and were not fit to be seen by her, or anybody that\nshould come after him.\nAfter he had seen his papers burnt, and placed the rest in their proper\norder, and had likewise settled all his other affairs, which was only fit\nto be done between himself and his sister, he desired her to call two or\nthree of the most reputable neighbours, not only to be witnesses of his\nwill, but likewise to hear what he had farther to communicate before the\nreturn of his fit, which he expected very speedily.\nHis sister, who had beforehand acquainted two or three of her confidants\nwith all that had happened, was very much rejoiced to hear her brother\nmake so unexpected a concession; and accordingly, without any delay or\nhesitation, went directly into the neighbourhood, and brought home her\ntwo select friends, upon whose secrecy and sincerity she knew she might\ndepend upon all accounts.\nIn her absence he felt several symptoms of the approach of his fit, which\nmade him a little uneasy, lest it should entirely seize him before he had\nperfected his will, but that apprehension was quickly removed by her\nspeedy return.  After she had introduced her friends into his chamber, he\nproceeded to express himself in the following manner; Dear sister, you\nnow see your brother upon the brink of eternity; and as the words of\ndying persons are commonly the most regarded, and make deepest\nimpressions, I cannot suspect but you will suffer the few I am about to\nsay to have always some place in your thoughts, that they may be ready\nfor you to make use of upon any occasion.\nDo not be fond of anything on this side of eternity, or suffer your\ninterest to incline you to break your word, quit your modesty, or to do\nanything that will not bear the light, and look the world in the face.\nFor be assured of this; the person that values the virtue of his mind and\nthe dignity of his reason, is always easy and well fortified both against\ndeath and misfortune, and is perfectly indifferent about the length or\nshortness of his life.  Such a one is solicitous about nothing but his\nown conduct, and for fear he should be deficient in the duties of\nreligion, and the respective functions of reason and prudence.\nAlways go the nearest way to work.  Now, the nearest way through all the\nbusiness of human life, are the paths of religion and honesty, and\nkeeping those as directly as you can, you avoid all the dangerous\nprecipices that often lie in the road, and sometimes block up the passage\nentirely.\nRemember that life was but lent at first, and that the remainder is more\nthan you have reason to expect, and consequently ought to be managed with\nmore than ordinary diligence.  A wise man spends every day as if it were\nhis last; his hourglass is always in his hand, and he is never guilty of\nsluggishness or insincerity.\nHe was about to proceed, when a sudden symptom of the return of his fit\nput him in mind that it was time to get his will witnessed, which was no\nsooner done but he took it up and gave it to his sister, telling her that\nthough all he had was hers of right, yet he thought it proper, to prevent\neven a possibility of a dispute, to write down his mind in the nature of\na will, wherein I have given you, says he, the little that I have left,\nexcept my books and papers, which, as soon as I am dead, I desire may be\ndelivered to Mr. Anthony Barlow, a near relation of my worthy master, Mr.\nOwen Parry.\nThis Mr. Anthony Barlow was an old contemplative Welsh gentleman, who,\nbeing under some difficulties in his own country, was forced to come into\nCornwall and take sanctuary among the tinners.  Dickory, though he kept\nhimself as retired as possible, happened to meet him one day upon his\nwalks, and presently remembered that he was the very person that used\nfrequently to come to visit his master while he lived in Pembrokeshire,\nand so went to him, and by signs made him understand who he was.\nThe old gentleman, though at first surprised at this unexpected\ninterview, soon recollected that he had formerly seen at Mr. Parry's a\ndumb man, whom they used to call the dumb philosopher, so concludes\nimmediately that consequently this must be he.  In short, they soon made\nthemselves known to each other; and from that time contracted a strict\nfriendship and a correspondence by letters, which for the future they\nmutually managed with the greatest exactness and familiarity.\nBut to leave this as a matter not much material, and to return to our\nnarrative.  By this time Dickory's speech began to falter, which his\nsister observing, put him in mind that he would do well to make some\ndeclaration of his faith and principles of religion, because some\nreflections had been made upon him upon the account of his neglect, or\nrather his refusal, to appear at any place of public worship.\n   \"Dear sister,\" says he, \"you observe very well, and I wish the\n   continuance of my speech for a few moments, that I might make an ample\n   declaration upon that account.  But I find that cannot be; my speech\n   is leaving me so fast that I can only tell you that I have always\n   lived, and now die, an unworthy member of the ancient catholic and\n   apostolic church; and as to my faith and principles, I refer you to my\n   papers, which, I hope, will in some measure vindicate me against the\n   reflections you mention.\"\nHe had hardly finished his discourse to his sister and her two friends,\nand given some short directions relating to his burial, but his speech\nleft him; and what makes the thing the more remarkable, it went away, in\nall appearance, without giving him any sort of pain or uneasiness.\nWhen he perceived that his speech was entirely vanished, and that he was\nagain in his original state of dumbness, he took his pen as formerly and\nwrote to his sister, signifying that whereas the sudden loss of his\nspeech had deprived him of the opportunity to speak to her and her\nfriends what he intended, he would leave it for them in writing, and so\ndesired he might not be disturbed till the return of his fit, which he\nexpected in six hours at farthest.  According to his desire they all left\nhim, and then, with the greatest resignation imaginable, he wrote down\nthe meditations following:\nPART II\nAn Abstract of his Faith, and the Principles of his Religion &c., which\nbegins thus:\nDear Sister; I thank you for putting me in mind to make a declaration of\nmy faith, and the principles of my religion.  I find, as you very well\nobserve, I have been under some reflections upon that account, and\ntherefore I think it highly requisite that I set that matter right in the\nfirst place.  To begin, therefore, with my faith, in which I intend to be\nas short and as comprehensive as I can:\n1.  I most firmly believe that it was the eternal will of God, and the\nresult of his infinite wisdom, to create a world, and for the glory of\nhis majesty to make several sorts of creatures in order and degree one\nafter another; that is to say, angels, or pure immortal spirits; men,\nconsisting of immortal spirits and matter, having rational and sensitive\nsouls; brutes, having mortal and sensitive souls; and mere vegetatives,\nsuch as trees, plants, &c.; and these creatures so made do, as it were,\nclasp the higher and lower world together.\n2.  I believe the holy Scriptures, and everything therein contained, to\nbe the pure and essential word of God; and that, according to these\nsacred writings, man, the lord and prince of the creation, by his\ndisobedience in Paradise, forfeited his innocence and the dignity of his\nnature, and subjected himself and all his posterity to sin and misery.\n3.  I believe and am fully and entirely satisfied, that God the Father,\nout of his infinite goodness and compassion to mankind, was pleased to\nsend his only Son, the second person in the holy and undivided Trinity,\nto meditate for him, and to procure his redemption and eternal salvation.\n4.  I believe that God the Son, out of his infinite love, and for the\nglory of the Deity, was pleased voluntarily and freely to descend from\nheaven, and to take our nature upon him, and to lead an exemplary life of\npurity, holiness, and perfect obedience, and at last to suffer an\nignominious death upon the cross, for the sins of the whole world, and to\nrise again the third day for our justification.\n5.  I believe that the Holy Ghost out of his infinite goodness was\npleased to undertake the office of sanctifying us with his divine grace,\nand thereby assisting us with faith to believe, will to desire, and power\nto do all those things that are required of us in this world, in order to\nentitle us to the blessings of just men made perfect in the world to\ncome.\n6.  I believe that these three persons are of equal power, majesty, and\nduration, and that the Godhead of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy\nGhost is all one, and that they are equally uncreate, incomprehensible,\neternal, and almighty; and that none is greater or less than the other,\nbut that every one hath one and the same divine nature and perfections.\nThese, sister, are the doctrines which have been received and practised\nby the best men of every age, from the beginning of the Christian\nreligion to this day, and it is upon this I ground my faith and hopes of\nsalvation, not doubting but, if my life and practice have been answerable\nto them, that I shall be quickly translated out of this kingdom of\ndarkness, out of this world of sorrow, vexation and confusion, into that\nblessed kingdom, where I shall cease to grieve and to suffer, and shall\nbe happy to all eternity.\nAs to my principles in religion, to be as brief as I can, I declare\nmyself to be a member of Christ's church, which I take to be a universal\nsociety of all Christian people, distributed under lawful governors and\npastors into particular churches, holding communion with each other in\nall the essentials of the Christian faith, worship, and discipline; and\namong these I look upon the Church of England to be the chief and best\nconstituted.\nThe Church of England is doubtless the great bulwark of the ancient\nCatholic or Apostolic faith all over the world; a church that has all the\nspiritual advantages that the nature of a church is capable of.  From the\ndoctrine and principles of the Church of England, we are taught loyalty\nto our prince, fidelity to our country, and justice to all mankind; and\ntherefore, as I look upon this to be one of the most excellent branches\nof the Church Universal, and stands, as it were, between superstition and\nhypocrisy, I therefore declare, for the satisfaction of you and your\nfriends, as I have always lived so I now die, a true and sincere, though\na most unworthy member of it.  And as to my discontinuance of my\nattendance at the public worship, I refer you to my papers, which I have\nleft with my worthy friend, Mr. Barlow.  And thus, my dear sister, I have\ngiven you a short account of my faith, and the principles of my religion.\nI come, in the next place, to lay before you a few meditations and\nobservations I have at several times collected together, more\nparticularly those since my retirement to St. Helen's.\nMeditations and Observations relating to the Conduct of Human Life in\ngeneral.\n1.  Remember how often you have neglected the great duties of religion\nand virtue, and slighted the opportunities that Providence has put into\nyour hands; and, withal, that you have a set period assigned you for the\nmanagement of the affairs of human life; and then reflect seriously that,\nunless you resolve immediately to improve the little remains, the whole\nmust necessarily slip away insensibly, and then you are lost beyond\nrecovery.\n2.  Let an unaffected gravity, freedom, justice, and sincerity shine\nthrough all your actions, and let no fancies and chimeras give the least\ncheck to those excellent qualities.  This is an easy task, if you will\nbut suppose everything you do to be your last, and if you can keep your\npassions and appetites from crossing your reason.  Stand clear of\nrashness, and have nothing of insincerity or self-love to infect you.\n3.  Manage all your thoughts and actions with such prudence and\ncircumspection as if you were sensible you were just going to step into\nthe grave.  A little thinking will show a man the vanity and uncertainty\nof all sublunary things, and enable him to examine maturely the manner of\ndying; which, if duly abstracted from the terror of the idea, will appear\nnothing more than an unavoidable appendix of life itself, and a pure\nnatural action.\n4.  Consider that ill-usage from some sort of people is in a manner\nnecessary, and therefore do not be disquieted about it, but rather\nconclude that you and your enemy are both marching off the stage\ntogether, and that in a little time your very memories will be\nextinguished.\n5.  Among your principal observations upon human life, let it be always\none to take notice what a great deal both of time and ease that man gains\nwho is not troubled with the spirit of curiosity, who lets his\nneighbours' affairs alone, and confines his inspections to himself, and\nonly takes care of honesty and a good conscience.\n6.  If you would live at your ease, and as much as possible be free from\nthe incumbrances of life, manage but a few things at once, and let those,\ntoo, be such as are absolutely necessary.  By this rule you will draw the\nbulk of your business into a narrow compass, and have the double pleasure\nof making your actions good, and few into the bargain.\n7.  He that torments himself because things do not happen just as he\nwould have them, is but a sort of ulcer in the world; and he that is\nselfish, narrow-souled, and sets up for a separate interest, is a kind of\nvoluntary outlaw, and disincorporates himself from mankind.\n8.  Never think anything below you which reason and your own\ncircumstances require, and never suffer yourself to be deterred by the\nill-grounded notions of censure and reproach; but when honesty and\nconscience prompt you to say or do anything, do it boldly; never balk\nyour resolution or start at the consequence.\n9.  If a man does me an injury, what is that to me?  It is his own\naction, and let him account for it.  As for me, I am in my proper\nstation, and only doing the business that Providence has allotted; and\nwithal, I ought to consider that the best way to revenge, is not to\nimitate the injury.\n10.  When you happen to be ruffled and put out of humour by any cross\naccident, retire immediately into your reason, and do not suffer your\npassion to overrule you a moment; for the sooner you recover yourself\nnow, the better you will be able to guard yourself for the future.\n11.  Do not be like those ill-natured people that, though they do not\nlove to give a good word to their contemporaries, yet are mighty fond of\ntheir own commendations.  This argues a perverse and unjust temper, and\noften exposes the authors to scorn and contempt.\n12.  If any one convinces you of an error, change your opinion and thank\nhim for it: truth and information are your business, and can never hurt\nanybody.  On the contrary, he that is proud and stubborn, and wilfully\ncontinues in a mistake, it is he that receives the mischief.\n13.  Because you see a thing difficult, do not instantly conclude it to\nbe impossible to master it.  Diligence and industry are seldom defeated.\nLook, therefore, narrowly into the thing itself, and what you observe\nproper and practicable in another, conclude likewise within your own\npower.\n14.  The principal business of human life is run through within the short\ncompass of twenty-four hours; and when you have taken a deliberate view\nof the present age, you have seen as much as if you had begun with the\nworld, the rest being nothing else but an endless round of the same thing\nover and over again.\n15.  Bring your will to your fate, and suit your mind to your\ncircumstances.  Love your friends and forgive your enemies, and do\njustice to all mankind, and you will be secure to make your passage easy,\nand enjoy most of the comforts human life is capable to afford you.\n16.  When you have a mind to entertain yourself in your retirements, let\nit be with the good qualifications of your friends and acquaintance.\nThink with pleasure and satisfaction upon the honour and bravery of one,\nthe modesty of another, the generosity of a third, and so on; there being\nnothing more pleasant and diverting than the lively images and the\nadvantages of those we love and converse with.\n17.  As nothing can deprive you of the privileges of your nature, or\ncompel you to act counter to your reason, so nothing can happen to you\nbut what comes from Providence, and consists with the interest of the\nuniverse.\n18.  Let people's tongues and actions be what they will, your business is\nto have honour and honesty in your view.  Let them rail, revile, censure,\nand condemn, or make you the subject of their scorn and ridicule, what\ndoes it all signify?  You have one certain remedy against all their\nmalice and folly, and that is, to live so that nobody shall believe them.\n19.  Alas, poor mortals! did we rightly consider our own state and\ncondition, we should find it would not be long before we have forgot all\nthe world, and to be even, that all the world will have forgot us\nlikewise.\n20.  He that would recommend himself to the public, let him do it by the\ncandour and modesty of his behaviour, and by a generous indifference to\nexternal advantages.  Let him love mankind, and resign to Providence, and\nthen his works will follow him, and his good actions will praise him in\nthe gate.\n21.  When you hear a discourse, let your understanding, as far as\npossible, keep pace with it, and lead you forward to those things which\nfall most within the compass of your own observations.\n22.  When vice and treachery shall be rewarded, and virtue and ability\nslighted and discountenanced; when ministers of state shall rather fear\nman than God, and to screen themselves run into parties and factions;\nwhen noise and clamour, and scandalous reports shall carry everything\nbefore them, it is natural to conclude that a nation in such a state of\ninfatuation stands upon the brink of destruction, and without the\nintervention of some unforeseen accident, must be inevitably ruined.\n23.  When a prince is guarded by wise and honest men, and when all public\nofficers are sure to be rewarded if they do well, and punished if they do\nevil, the consequence is plain; justice and honesty will flourish, and\nmen will be always contriving, not for themselves, but for the honour and\ninterest of their king and country.\n24.  Wicked men may sometimes go unpunished in this world, but wicked\nnations never do; because this world is the only place of punishment of\nwicked nations, though not for private and particular persons.\n25.  An administration that is merely founded upon human policy must be\nalways subject to human chance; but that which is founded on the divine\nwisdom can no more miscarry than the government of heaven.  To govern by\nparties and factions is the advice of an atheist, and sets up a\ngovernment by the spirit of Satan.  In such a government the prince can\nnever be secure under the greatest promises, since, as men's interest\nchanges, so will their duty and affections likewise.\n26.  It is a very ancient observation, and a very true one, that people\ngenerally despise where they flatter, and cringe to those they design to\nbetray; so that truth and ceremony are, and always will be, two distinct\nthings.\n27.  When you find your friend in an error, undeceive him with secrecy\nand civility, and let him see his oversight first by hints and glances;\nand if you cannot convince him, leave him with respect, and lay the fault\nupon your own management.\n28.  When you are under the greatest vexations, then consider that human\nlife lasts but for a moment; and do not forget but that you are like the\nrest of the world, and faulty yourself in many instances; and withal,\nremember that anger and impatience often prove more mischievous than the\nprovocation.\n29.  Gentleness and good humour are invincible, provided they are without\nhypocrisy and design; they disarm the most barbarous and savage tempers,\nand make even malice ashamed of itself.\n30.  In all the actions of life let it be your first and principal care\nto guard against anger on the one hand, and flattery on the other, for\nthey are both unserviceable qualities, and do a great deal of mischief in\nthe government of human life.\n31.  When a man turns knave or libertine, and gives way to fear,\njealousy, and fits of the spleen; when his mind complains of his fortune,\nand he quits the station in which Providence has placed him, he acts\nperfectly counter to humanity, deserts his own nature, and, as it were,\nruns away from himself.\n32.  Be not heavy in business, disturbed in conversation, nor impertinent\nin your thoughts.  Let your judgment be right, your actions friendly, and\nyour mind contented; let them curse you, threaten you, or despise you;\nlet them go on; they can never injure your reason or your virtue, and\nthen all the rest that they can do to you signifies nothing.\n33.  The only pleasure of human life is doing the business of the\ncreation; and which way is that to be compassed very easily?  Most\ncertainly by the practice of general kindness, by rejecting the\nimportunity of our senses, by distinguishing truth from falsehood, and by\ncontemplating the works of the Almighty.\n34.  Be sure to mind that which lies before you, whether it be thought,\nword, or action; and never postpone an opportunity, or make virtue wait\nfor you till to-morrow.\n35.  Whatever tends neither to the improvement of your reason nor the\nbenefit of society, think it below you; and when you have done any\nconsiderable service to mankind, do not lessen it by your folly in gaping\nafter reputation and requital.\n36.  When you find yourself sleepy in a morning, rouse yourself, and\nconsider that you are born to business, and that in doing good in your\ngeneration, you answer your character and act like a man; whereas sleep\nand idleness do but degrade you, and sink you down to a brute.\n37.  A mind that has nothing of hope, or fear, or aversion, or desire, to\nweaken and disturb it, is the most impregnable security.  Hither we may\nwith safety retire and defy our enemies; and he that sees not this\nadvantage must be extremely ignorant, and he that forgets it unhappy.\n38.  Do not disturb yourself about the faults of other people, but let\neverybody's crimes be at their own door.  Have always this great maxim in\nyour remembrance, that to play the knave is to rebel against religion;\nall sorts of injustice being no less than high treason against Heaven\nitself.\n39.  Do not contemn death, but meet it with a decent and religious\nfortitude, and look upon it as one of those things which Providence has\nordered.  If you want a cordial to make the apprehensions of dying go\ndown a little the more easily, consider what sort of world and what sort\nof company you will part with.  To conclude, do but look seriously into\nthe world, and there you will see multitudes of people preparing for\nfunerals, and mourning for their friends and acquaintances; and look out\nagain a little afterwards, and you will see others doing the very same\nthing for them.\n40.  In short, men are but poor transitory things.  To-day they are busy\nand harassed with the affairs of human life; and to-morrow life itself is\ntaken from them, and they are returned to their original dust and ashes.\nPART III\nContaining prophetic observations relating to the affairs of Europe and\nof Great Britain, more particularly from 1720 to 1729.\n1.  In the latter end of 1720, an eminent old lady shall bring forth five\nsons at a birth; the youngest shall live and grow up to maturity, but the\nfour eldest shall either die in the nursery, or be all carried off by one\nsudden and unexpected accident.\n2.  About this time a man with a double head shall arrive in Britain from\nthe south.  One of these heads shall deliver messages of great importance\nto the governing party, and the other to the party that is opposite to\nthem.  The first shall believe the monster, but the last shall discover\nthe impostor, and so happily disengage themselves from a snare that was\nlaid to destroy them and their posterity.  After this the two heads shall\nunite, and the monster shall appear in his proper shape.\n3.  In the year 1721, a philosopher from Lower Germany shall come, first\nto Amsterdam in Holland, and afterwards to London.  He will bring with\nhim a world of curiosities, and among them a pretended secret for the\ntransmutation of metals.  Under the umbrage of this mighty secret he\nshall pass upon the world for some time; but at length he shall be\ndetected, and proved to be nothing but an empiric and a cheat, and so\nforced to sneak off, and leave the people he has deluded, either to\nbemoan their loss, or laugh at their own folly.  N.B.--This will be the\nlast of his sect that will ever venture in this part of the world upon\nthe same errand.\n4.  In this year great endeavours will be used for procuring a general\npeace, which shall be so near a conclusion that public rejoicings shall\nbe made at the courts of several great potentates upon that account; but\njust in the critical juncture, a certain neighbouring prince shall come\nto a violent death, which shall occasion new war and commotion all over\nEurope; but these shall continue but for a short time, and at last\nterminate in the utter destruction of the first aggressors.\n5.  Towards the close of this year of mysteries, a person that was born\nblind shall have his sight restored, and shall see ravens perch upon the\nheads of traitors, among which the head of a notorious prelate shall\nstand upon the highest pole.\n6.  In the year 1722, there shall be a grand congress, and new overtures\nof peace offered by most of the principal parties concerned in the war,\nwhich shall have so good effect that a cessation of arms shall be agreed\nupon for six months, which shall be kept inviolable till a certain\ngeneral, either through treachery or inadvertency, shall begin\nhostilities before the expiration of the term; upon which the injured\nprince shall draw his sword, and throw the scabbard into the sea, vowing\nnever to return it till he shall obtain satisfaction for himself, and\ndone justice to all that were oppressed.\n7.  At the close of this year, a famous bridge shall be broken down, and\nthe water that runs under it shall be tinctured with the blood of two\nnotorious malefactors, whose unexpected death shall make mighty\nalterations in the present state of affairs, and put a stop to the ruin\nof a nation, which must otherwise have been unavoidable.\n8.  1723 begins with plots, conspiracies, and intestine commotions in\nseveral countries; nor shall Great Britain itself be free from the\ncalamity.  These shall continue till a certain young prince shall take\nthe reins of government into his own hands; and after that, a marriage\nshall be proposed, and an alliance concluded between two great\npotentates, who shall join their forces, and endeavour, in good earnest,\nto set all matters upon a right foundation.\n9.  This year several cardinals and prelates shall be publicly censured\nfor heretical principles, and shall narrowly escape from being torn to\npieces by the common people, who still look upon them as the grand\ndisturbers of public tranquillity, perfect incendiaries, and the chief\npromoters of their former, present, and future calamities.\n10.  In 1724-5 there will be many treaties and negociations, and Great\nBritain, particularly, will be crowded with foreign ministers and\nambassadors from remote princes and states.  Trade and commerce will\nbegin to flourish and revive, and everything will have a comfortable\nprospect, until some desperadoes, assisted by a monster with many heads,\nshall start new difficulties, and put the world again into a flame; but\nthese shall be but of short duration.\n11.  Before the expiration of 1725, an eagle from the north shall fly\ndirectly to the south, and perch upon the palace of a prince, and first\nunravel the bloody projects and designs of a wicked set of people, and\nthen publicly discover the murder of a great king, and the intended\nassassination of another greater than he.\n12.  In 1726, three princes will be born that will grow up to be men, and\ninherit the crowns of three of the greatest monarchies in Europe.\n13.  About this time the pope will die, and after a great many intrigues\nand struggles, a Spanish cardinal shall be elected, who shall decline the\ndignity, and declare his marriage with a great lady, heiress of one of\nthe chief principalities in Italy, which may occasion new troubles in\nEurope, if not timely prevented.\n14.  In 1727, new troubles shall break out in the north, occasioned by\nthe sudden death of a certain prince, and the avarice and ambition of\nanother.  Poor Poland seems to be pointed at; but the princes of the\nsouth shall enter into a confederacy to preserve her, and shall at length\nrestore her peace, and prevent the perpetual ruin of her constitution.\n15.  Great endeavours will be used about this time for a comprehension in\nreligion, supported by crafty and designing men, and a party of mistaken\nzealots, which they shall artfully draw in to join with them; but as the\nproject is ill-concerted, and will be worse managed, it will come to\nnothing; and soon afterwards an effectual mode will be taken to prevent\nthe like attempt for the future.\n16. 1728 will be a year of inquiry and retrospection.  Many exorbitant\ngrants will be reassumed, and several persons who thought themselves\nsecure will be called before the senate, and compelled to disgorge what\nthey have unjustly pillaged either from the crown or the public.\n17.  About this time a new scaffold will be erected upon the confines of\na certain great city, where an old count of a new extraction, that has\nbeen of all parties and true to none, will be doomed by his peers to make\nhis first appearance.  After this an old lady who has often been exposed\nto danger and disgrace, and sometimes brought to the very brink of\ndestruction, will be brought to bed of three daughters at once, which\nthey shall call Plenty, Peace, and Union; and these three shall live and\ngrow up together, be the glory of their mother, and the comfort of\nposterity for many generations.\nThis is the substance of what he either writ or extracted from his papers\nin the interval between the loss of his speech and the return of his fit,\nwhich happened exactly at the time he had computed.\nUpon the approach of his fit, he made signs to be put to bed, which was\nno sooner done but he was seized with extreme agonies, which he bore up\nunder with the greatest steadfastness, and after a severe conflict, that\nlasted near eight hours, he expired.\nThus lived and thus died this extraordinary person; a person, though of\nmean extraction and obscure life, yet when his character comes to be\nfully and truly known, it will be read with pleasure, profit, and\nadmiration.\nHis perfections at large would be the work of a volume, and inconsistent\nwith the intention of these papers.  I will, therefore, only add, for a\nconclusion, that he was a man of uncommon thought and judgment, and\nalways kept his appetites and inclinations within their just limits.\nHis reason was strong and manly, his understanding sound and active, and\nhis temper so easy, equal, and complaisant, that he never fell out,\neither with men or accidents.  He bore all things with the highest\naffability, and computed justly upon their value and consequence, and\nthen applied them to their proper uses.\nA LETTER FROM OXFORD\nSir,\nBeing informed that you speedily intend to publish some memoirs relating\nto our dumb countryman, Dickory Cronke, I send you herewith a few lines,\nin the nature of an elegy, which I leave you to dispose of as you think\nfit.  I knew and admired the man; and if I were capable, his character\nshould be the first thing I would attempt.\nYours. &c.\nAN ELEGY,\nIN MEMORY OF DICKORY CRONKE,\nTHE DUMB PHILOSOPHER.\n   Vitiis nemo sine nascitur; optimus ille est,\n   Qui minimus urgetur.--HORACE.\nIf virtuous actions emulation raise,\nThen this good man deserves immortal praise.\nWhen nature such extensive wisdom lent,\nShe sure designed him for our precedent.\nSuch great endowments in a man unknown,\nDeclare the blessings were not all his own;\nBut rather granted for a time to show\nWhat the wise hand of Providence can do.\nIn him we may a bright example see\nOf nature, justice, and morality;\nA mind not subject to the frowns of fate,\nBut calm and easy in a servile state.\nHe always kept a guard upon his will\nAnd feared no harm because he knew no ill.\nA decent posture and an humble mien,\nIn every action of his life were seen.\nThrough all the different stages that he went,\nHe still appeared both wise and diligent:\nFirm to his word, and punctual to his trust,\nSagacious, frugal, arable, and just.\nNo gainful views his bounded hopes could sway,\nNo wanton thought led his chaste soul astray.\nIn short, his thoughts and actions both declare,\nNature designed him her philosopher;\nThat all mankind, by his example taught,\nMight learn to live, and manage every thought.\nOh! could my muse the wondrous subject grace,\nAnd, from his youth, his virtuous actions trace;\nCould I in just and equal numbers tell\nHow well he lived, and how devoutly fell,\nI boldly might your strict attention claim,\nAnd bid you learn, and copy out the man.\nJ. P.\nExeter College, August 25th, 1719.\nEPITAPH\nThe occasion of this epitaph was briefly thus:--A gentleman, who had\nheard much in commendation of this dumb man, going accidentally to the\nchurchyard where he was buried, and finding his grave without a\ntombstone, or any manner of memorandum of his death, he pulled out his\npencil, and writ as follows:--\n   PAUPER UBIQUE JACET.\n   Near to this lonely unfrequented place,\n   Mixed with the common dust, neglected lies\n   The man that every muse should strive to grace,\n   And all the world should for his virtue prize.\n   Stop, gentle passenger, and drop a tear,\n   Truth, justice, wisdom, all lie buried here.\n   What, though he wants a monumental stone,\n   The common pomp of every fool or knave,\n   Those virtues which through all his actions shone\n   Proclaim his worth, and praise him in the grave.\n   His merits will a bright example give,\n   Which shall both time and envy too outlive.\n   Oh, had I power but equal to my mind,\n   A decent tomb should soon this place adorn,\n   With this inscription: Lo, here lies confined\n   A wondrous man, although obscurely born;\n   A man, though dumb, yet he was nature's care,\n   Who marked him out her own philosopher.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Dickory Cronke"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Linda Cantoni, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. In\nmemory of Steven Gibbs (1938-2009).\n[Transcriber's Note: This e-book, a pamphlet by Daniel Defoe, was\noriginally published in 1704, and was prepared from _The Storm_, a\nmodern reprint (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 2005). Archaic and\ninconsistent spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and hyphenation,\nas well as apparent printer errors, have been retained as they appear\nin the original.]\nTHE\nLay-Man's\nSERMON\nUPON THE\nLATE STORM;\nHeld forth at an Honest\n_Coffee-House-Conventicle_.\n_Not so much a Jest as 'tis thought to be._\nPrinted in the Year 1704.\nNAHUM. I. III\n     _The Lord has his way in the Whirle-Wind and in the Storm,\n     and the Clouds are the Dust of his Feet._\nThis Text is not chosen more for the Suitableness to the present\nCallamity, which has been the Portion of this Place, than for the\naptness of the Circumstances, 'twas spoken of God going to Chastise, a\nPowerful, Populous, Wealthy and most reprobate City.\n_Nineveh_ was the Seat of a mighty Empire, a Wealthy Encreasing\nPeople, Opulent in Trade, Flourishing in Power and Proud in\nProportion.\nThe Prophet does not seem to deliver these words, to the _Ninevites_,\nto convince them, or encline them to consider their own Circumstances\nand repent, but he seems to speak, it to the _Israelites_ inviteing\nthem to Triumph and Insult over the Heathen adversary, by setting\nforth the Power of their God, in the most exalted Terms.\nAnd that this is a just Exposition of this Text, seems plain from the\nwords Imediately going before, _the Lord is slow to Anger, and Great\nin Power and will not at all acquit the wicked_. These words could\nhave no Connexion with the Text, tho' they are joyn'd with them in the\nsame Verse, if it were not meant of his being slow to Anger, to his\nown People, and Terrible to the Heathen World, and this being spoken\nas an Expression of his being not easily provoked as to his Church,\nthe Subsequent part of the Verse tells them how his power and Vengance\nis matter of particular Satisfaction to his People as being exercis'd\nin Revenging the affront put upon his Glory by his Enemies, _God is\nJealous, and the Lord Revengeth, the Lord Revengeth and is Furious,\nthe Lord will take Vengeance on his adversaries and he reserveth wrath\nfor his Enemies_. Tis plain this is meant of his Enemies, but as if\nbrought in with a Parenthesis, tis spoken for the comfort of his\nChurch, the Lord is slow to Anger as to them, and to lift up their\nhearts in a further confidence that their Enemies are all in his hand,\nhe goes on discribing the Terrors of his Judgement.\n_The Lord has his way in the Whirl-wind and in the Storm, and the\nClouds are the Dust of his Feet._ Eloquent Flourishes upon the\nOmnipotence of God.\nThe short Exposition I shall make of the words, Tends only to remind\nus that the Whirl-wind and Storm which are here made use of, to\nexpress the Magnipotent power of God are acted by his Direction, _he\nhas his way in them_, it may note indeed the Invisible secrecy and\nswiftness of his providences, but to avoid long Paraphrases, I confine\nmy self to my own Construction, as that which, as it is a just\ninference from the matter of the Text, so 'tis most suitable to the\ndesign of this discourse.\nAnd as this Sermon may be a little Immethodical, because I purpose to\nmake it almost all Aplication so I shall advance some Conclusions from\nthe Premises which I lay down, as the Geneuine sence of the Words.\n1. The Omnipotence of God gives Christians sufficient ground to Insult\ntheir Enemies, _wherefore do the Heathen Mock thy People and say unto\nthem where is now your God? Behold our God is in the Heavens, and\ndoeth whatsoever he pleaseth_; as the Prophet _Elija_, Banter'd the\nHeathen Priest of _Baal_, with the Impotence of their Gods, Cry aloud\nfor _he is a God, either he is talking or he is Pursuing, or he is in\na Journey, or Peradventure he Sleepeth and must be awakned_, so he\ninsulted them about the power of the true God, _let it be known O Lord\nsays he this day that thou art God in Israel_.\n2. As God in all the works of his Providence, makes use of the\nsubserviency of means, so the whole Creation is Subordinate to the\nExecution of his Divine will, _the Clouds are the Dust of his Feet and\nhe rides upon the Wings of the Wind_, the most Powerful Elements are\nso subjected to his almighty power that the Clouds are but as Dust\nunder his feet, tis as easy for him to Govern and mannage them; as it\nis for a man to shake off the Dust from his feet, or he can as easily\nsubdue the fury of them as a man Tramples the Dust, they are small and\nTriffling things, in his Eyes.\n3. The ways of God are unsearchable, the Methods of his Providence are\nsecret and powerfull; his way is in the Whirle-wind, and in the Storm,\ntis invisible and iresistible, invisible as the Wind, and iresistible\nas the Storm.\nBut waving these and abundance more usefull observations which might\nbe justly drawn from so rich a Text, I shall proceed upon one which\ntho' it favours something more of private authority, and I have not so\nAuthentick Opinion of the Learned Commentators, on my side, yet I\nshall endeavour not to Merit much Censure, in the Improvement of it,\neven from those who perhaps may not joyn with me in the Exposition.\nAccording therefore to my own private opinion of these words; I shall\nfor the present occasion only Paraphrase them thus, that _the Lord has\na way_ or an end _in the Whirle-wind, and in the Storm_, nor is this a\nvery unusual Method of expressing things in Scripture, where the way\nis Exprest, to signify the design, or end of a thing.\nAnd from this Exposition I advance this head.\nThat as God by his power Governs the elements, so in all their\nExtraordinary Motions, they are in a Perticular manner acted by his\nSoveraignity. And,\n2. When the Creation is put into any Violent or Supernatural\nAgitation, God has always some Extraordinary thing to bring to pass,\n_he has a meaning in all the Remarkables of Nature_.\n3. We ought dilligently to observe the extraordinary actings of\nProvidence, in order to discover and Deprecate the displeasure of\nAlmighty God, Providences are never Dumb, and if we can not discern\nthe signals of his Anger, we must be very blind. The Voice of his\nJudgements is heard in the Voice of Nature, and if we make our selves\nDeaf, he is pleas'd to make them speak the Louder, to awaken the\nstupifyed sences, and startle the World, which seem'd rather Amus'd\nthan Amas'd, with the common Course of things. This I take to be some\nof the true meaning of the way of God, in the Whirle-wind, and in the\nStorm.\nThe design of this Discourse therefore, is to put the Nation in\ngeneral upon proper Resolutions; if we pretend to believe that there\nis any such thing as a Collateral Sympathy, a Communication of\nCircumstances, between a Nations Follies, and her Fate. Any Harmony\nbetween Merit and Mischief, between the Crimes of Men and the\nVengeance of Heaven; we cannot but allow this _Extra_-Pulpit\nadmonition to be just.\nAnd let not any man Object against this being call'd a Sermon, and its\nbeing introduc'd from a Text of Scripture while the remainer of this\nDiscourse, seems wholly Civil and Political.\nIf all our Measures in Civil affairs were deduc'd as Inferences from\nsacred Texts, I am of the Opinion the Text would be well improv'd, and\nPublick matters never the worse Guided.\nAnd for this reason, tho' the Subject be not Treated, with the Gravity\nof a Sermon, nor in so serious a manner, as would become a Pulpit, yet\nit may be not the less suitable to the occasion and for the manner, it\nmust be placed to the Authors account.\nBesides the Title I think has provided for the Method and If so he\nthat expected it otherwise than it is tis his Fault, and not Mine.\nThe Term Sermon which is but _Sermo_, a Speech, may Justify all the\nNovelty of my Method if those who find fault please to give themselves\nleave to allow it, and since it has never profain'd the Pulpit, I\nbelieve the Text will receive no Prejudice by it, I wish every Sermon\nequally Improv'd.\nAnd what tho' your Humble Servant be no Man of the Text; if he be a\nMan of Honesty, he may have a hand in making you all Men of\nApplication.\nIn publick Callamities, every Circumstance is a Sermon, and every\nthing we see a Preacher.\nThe trembling Habitations of an Unthinking People Preach to us, and\nmight have made any Nation in the World tremble but us; when we were\nrock'd out of our Sleep as Children are Rock'd into it; and when the\nterrible Hand of Soveraign Power rock'd many a Wretch from one Sleep\nto another, and made a Grave of the Bed, without the Ceremony of\nwaking in the Passage.\nThe shatter'd Palaces of our Princes Preach to us, and tell us aloud,\nthat without respect to Dignity, he is able to put that Dreadful Text\nin Execution; _That if a Nation does wickedly they shall be destroy'd\nboth they and their King_.\nThe fallen Oaks, which stood before to tell us they were the longest\nliv'd of all God's Creatures, Preach to us, and tell us that the most\ntowring object of humane Beauty and strength must lye humble and\nprostrate, when he is pleased to give a Check to that Splendor which\nwas deriv'd from his Power.\nThe Wrecks of our Navies and Fleets Preach to us, that 'tis in vain we\npretend to be Wall'd about by the Ocean, and ride Masters of the Sea:\nAnd that, if he who bestow'd that Scituation upon us thinks fit, he\ncan make that Element which has been our Strength, and the Encreaser\nof our Wealth, be the Grave of our Treasure, and the Enemy of our\nCommerce; he can put it into so violent Agitation, by the blast of his\nMouth, that all our Defence and the Naval Strength we have vallued our\nselves so much upon, shall at once be swallow'd up in the Mouth of our\nFriend the Sea; and we shall find our Destruction in the very thing\nfrom which we expected our Defence.\nOur Seamen and Soldiers, whose Dead Bodies Embrace the _English_\nShores, Preach aloud to us, that whenever we think fit to Embark them\non any Design, which Heaven approves not of, he can blast the Embrio,\nand devour those People whose Hands are lifted up against Justice and\nRight.\nAlso they Preach to us, Not to build our hopes of Success upon the\nmultitude of Ships or Men, who are thus easily reduc'd, and the\nStrength of a whole Nation brought to Ruine in a Moment.\nThese are the Monitors of our Missfortunes, and some of these\nadmonitions would be well preach'd from the Mouths of those whose\nTallent as well as Office gives them reason to do it, and us to expect\nit.\nBut since the Sons of the Prophets have not yet thought it proper to\nenter very far into this Matter, not doubting but they will in due\ntime find it as suitable to their Inclination as 'tis to their Duty,\nIn the mean time let us see if no uncommon Application may be made of\nso uncommon a Circumstance.\nFirst, 'tis matter of wonder that any Man can be so senceless, as to\nsuppose there is nothing extraordinary in so signal an Instance of a\nSupream Power; but 'tis much more remarkable that those who have\nReligion enough to own it a Judgment, are yet at a loss how to\nappropriate it's signification.\nEvery one thinks it to be a Judgment upon the Person or Parties they\nsee touch'd with it. _W----_ the Carpenter was knock'd on the head\nwith a Stack of Chimneys, and his Wife saved; all the Neighbours cried\nout 'twas a Judgment upon him for keeping a Whore; but if Stacks of\nChimnies were to have fallen on the Heads of all that keep Whores,\n_Miserere Dei_.\n_S----_ was kill'd by the like Accident, and he must be singl'd out\nfor Extortion; But think ye that he was a Sinner above all the\n_Gallileans_?\nThe _Jacobites_ and _Non-Jurants_ shall rise up in Judgment against\nthis Generation, and shall condemn them, for they tell us, this Storm\nis a Judgment on the whole Nation, for Excluding their Lawful\nSoveraign, and Abjuring his Posterity: Upon this head they have been\npreaching up Repentance, and Humiliation to us; and some of them are\nwilling to reduce all to a very practical Exhortation, and tell us, we\nought to look upon it as a Loud Call to Restore the Right Owner (as\nthey call him) to the Possession of his own again; that is, in short,\nto rebel against a Mild, Gentle, Just and Protestant Queen, and call\nin the Popish Posterity of an abdicated Tyrant.\nThese Gentlemen are Men of Uses and Application, and know very well\nhow to make an Advantage of God's Judgments, when they serve their\nturn.\nThe _Whigs_ and _Occasional Conformists_ shall rise up in Judgment\nagainst this Generation; for they are sensible of the present severe\nStroke of Providence, and think 'tis a mark of Heavens Displeasure\nupon the Nation, for the violent methods made use of by some People\nagainst them, for their Religion, contrary to their Native Right, and\nthe Liberty of their Consciences.\nSome think a general Blast follows all the Endeavours of this Nation\nagainst the Common Enemy, for their slighting and reproaching the\nGlorious Memory of the late King _William_, whose Gallant Endeavours\nfor the general good of _Europe_, and of _England_ in particular, were\nTreacherously thwarted and disappointed while he was alive, and are\nBasely and Scandalously undervalued and slighted now he is Dead; and\nof this sort I confess my self enclined to be one.\nFrom these general Observations we may descend to particulars, and\nevery one judges according to their own Fancy.\nSome will have it, that the Slaughter and Destruction among the Fleet,\nis a Judgment upon them, for going into the _Streights_, and coming\nhome again without doing any business; but those forget, that if they\ndid all they were ordered to do, the Fault lies in those who sent\nthem, and not in they that went.\nSome will have the Damage among the Colliers to be a Judgment, upon\nthose who have Engross'd the Trade, and made the Poor pay so dear for\nCoals; not enquiring whether those Engrossers of the Coals are not\nleft safe on Shore, while the poor Seamen are drown'd, who know\nnothing of the matter.\n'Tis plain to me, who ever are Punish'd by the Storm, we that are left\nhave a share in the Judgment, and a Trebble concern in the Cause.\nIf it could be said that those who are destroy'd, or who have suffered\nthe loss of Lives, Limbs or Goods, were the only People who gave any\noccasion to the Divine Justice thus severely to Revenge it self, then\nall admonition to the rest of Mankind would be useless, any farther\nthan it directed them to be Cautious how they provoked him in like\nmanner; but have we not all had a hand in the general provocation,\nthough not an equal share in the general Calamity.\nSometimes the Judgements of Heaven, bear so much Analogy to the\nCrimes, that the Punishment points out the Offence, and 'tis easy to\ndistinguish what it is the perticular hand of Justice points at.\nAnd if we will seek for a Perticular case, in which Heaven seems to\nhave singled out this way of Punishment on the Nation, as best\nproportion'd to the general National Crime we are all guilty of? what\nseems more Rational than to Judge that tis a severe Animadversion upon\nthe Feuds and Storms of parties kept up among us in this Nation, with\nsuch unnatural Heat, and such unaccountable Fury, that no man, who\nhas the least Compassion for his Native Country, but must with more\nthan Common Grief, be concerned for it, since unless some speedy\ncourse be taken to bring a general Composure upon the minds of Men,\nthe general ruin seems Inevitable.\nIf the matters in Debate were of Extraordinary Consequence, there\nmight be some pretence for Espousing contrary parties with unusual\nheat; but while the difference lies in small, and, in some cases,\nindifferent things, tis a most inexcusable Madness that the Feuds\nshou'd be run up so high, that all manner of Charity should Perish and\nbe lost among us.\nWe have had an Extraordinary Bustle in the World about Moderation, and\nall Parties pretend to it, and now we are as busy about Peace, and\nevery one lays in a Loud Claim to it.\nI have seen, with some regret, the strange Mysterious Management of\nthis Age about Moderation, and tho' some late Authors have Published\nthat Moderation is a Vertue, It begins to be a question whether it is\nor no.\nI wish some Body would make enquiry after the occasion that has\nbrought this Blessed Word into so much Contempt in the World; tis very\nhard that a word expressive of the most Glorious Principle in the\nWorld, should become the Brand of reproach, and a Badge of Infamy to\nParties; be a Nick-name it self, and be Nick-nam'd on every side; and\nthat at a time when the Vertue it self, is perhaps the only thing left\nin the World, that can preserve this Nation from Destruction.\n'Tis too unhappy for _England_, that Men of immoderate Principles are\nso powerfull as they are. Let the Party be which it will, tis\nDestruction even to themselves, to run up all their Niceties and all\ntheir Scruples to the Extremes. Every Dispute becomes a Feud, every\nSpark a Flame, every word a Blow, every Blow, a Civil-War, and by this\nIntestine Confusion of Principles, Backt with the Passion and Fury of\nMen, this unhappy Nation is Subdivided into an Infinite Number of\nParties, Factions, Intrests and seperate Opinions.\nEvery Man being thus bent upon the propagation of his own Notion, for\nwant of this healing Spirit of Moderation, falls foul upon his\nNeighbour because he has not the same Heat, and if he finds him\nbetter Temper'd than himself, if he finds him less Violent, less\nFurious, than himself, he is Imediately Branded with the Scandal of\nModeration.\nSince then the Change of times has made this Practice, which in its\nvery Nature is a Foundation of Vertue, become a Crime, Let us examine\nwho are, and who are not Guilty of it.\nFor the Negatives of this Vice of Moderation they are something Easier\nto be discover'd than ordinary, both in Principles and in Practice;\nand, without the Scandal of a Censorious Writer, I may be allowed to\nsay all the following Instances may stand clear of this Crime.\n1. If Mr. _Sachaverell_, with his Bloody Flag, and Banner of Defiance,\nwere Indicted for Moderation, I verily believe no Jury would bring him\nin Guilty.\n2. If Dr. _J----ne_, Author of the Character of a Low-Churchman, Mr.\n---- Author of the New Association, if a famous Bishop who told us,\n'twould never be well with _England_ till all the Dissenters were\nserv'd like the _Hugonots_ in _France_, if any of these were Indicted\nfor Moderation, they might safely plead not Guilty.\n3. If Sir _John Friend_ and Sir _William Parkins_, had been only\naccus'd for Moderation, they had never been Hanged, nor _Collyer_ and\n_Cook_ had never absolv'd them at the Gallows without Repentance.\n4. If he were Hang'd for Moderation, who ask'd the Question, _whether\nif the Play-house in Dorset-Garden, were let for a Meeting-house,\n'twould not do more harm than tis like to do as a Theatre_, he would\ncertainly Dye Innocently.\n5. If _Fuller_ had been Voted an Incorrigible Rogue only for the Vice\nof Moderation, I should have thought the House of Commons had done him\nwrong.\n6. If the Councellors of the late King, such as Father _P----_, my\nLord _S----_ and all those that betray'd their Master, by hurrying on\nhis ruin and their own. If those Gentlemen were Charged with\nModeration, I doubt we should wrong them.\n7. If some of the Members of our Late Convocation shou'd be accused\nfor Moderation, I believe it might be no Difficult task to Vindicate\nthem.\n8. If this Crime should be Charged higher than we dare to mention, I\nam perswaded some Persons of Note would think themselves abused.\n9. In short all those Gentlemen, by whatsoever Names or Titles\nDistinguish'd, who repine at the Settlement, who reproach the\nTolleration, and who Blame the Queen for her promises of Maintaining\nit, these abhor the thoughts of this Scandalous Crime of Moderation,\nand are as Innocent of it as the Child unborne.\n10. Tis the Opinion of some People, That there are some of our beloved\nFriends in _Scotland_, may be Vindicated in this case, nay others are\nof the Opinion, tis not a National Crime in that Country, that is,\n'tis not a sin the _Scots_ are much adicted to.\n11. Lastly, Take our English Clergy in general, some are ready to say\nthey have no great cause of Repentance for the sin of Moderation.\nOn the other hand, some People have so home a Charge of this Error\nlaid upon them, that 'twill be very hard to clear themselves of it,\nand I am afraid they would be brought in Guilty by a Jury, almost\nwithout going away from the Bar. as,\n1. Our Observator, they say, is Guilty of Moderation, with Relation to\nhis Wit, and Especially as concerning his good Manners; I hope he wont\nbe prosecuted for it the next Sessions, if he should, I doubt, 'twill\ngo hard with him.\n2. If our News-writers should be Indited for Moderation, as to Truth\nof Fact, I would advise them to plead Guilty, and throw themselves\nupon the Mercy of the Court.\n3. Some of our Captains, they say, are addicted to Fight but\nModerately; I hope all the rest wont be Infected, but I know not what\nto say to it.\n4. Some of our Lawyers are apt to be very Moderate in their Justice,\nbut being well read in the Law are cunning enough to keep off an\nIndictment, so there is no fear of them.\n5. Some of our General Receivers, when they got the Publick Money in\ntheir hands, were apt to be very Moderate in paying it out again.\n6. Some have been very Moderate in giving in their accounts too, as\nmay appear in former Reigns, and perhaps in time to come too.\nSome Moderately Wise, some Moderatly Honest, but most Immoderately\nadicted to think themselves Both.\nTho' I might be a little more serious upon the matter, yet this way of\ntalking is not so much a Jest neither as it looks like; and has its\nMoral, in it self, which a Wise man may see, and for the Fool tis no\nmatter whether he does or no. Custome has prevailed upon us to such a\ndegree, that almost in every part the very Practice seem a Scandal,\nand the Word passes for a Reproach.\nTo say, among the Sons of _Levy_, such a man is a Moderate Church-man\nis to say he is no Church-man, and some of our present Bishops from\nthe Practice of Moderation have been boldly call'd Presbiterians in\nthe Pamphlets of our less Moderate writers.\nIn short, 'tis hard to find any party or profession of Men among us,\nthat care for the Title; and those who but Moderately espouse an\nIntrest, are generally suspected by those who are of that side, as\nPersons Favouring their Enemies.\nThese Moderate Men, said a Gentleman whose Gown and Band had given us\nreason to expect better Language, they will Ruin the Church, this\nDamn'd Moderation, says he, spoils all, we should deal well enough\nwith the Dissenters, if it were not for these men of Moderation, they\nare worse than Dissenters, for they seem to be among us, and yet wont\nJoyn heartily to do the Work.\nModeration seems to be cast off on every side, and is used as a Badge\nof reproach in every Class, or degree of Men in the World.\nIn the Church of _England_, 'tis call'd Low-Church.\nIn the Court, 'tis call'd Whiggism.\nIn the Dissenters, 'tis call'd Occasional Conformity.\nIn Parties, 'tis call'd Trimming.\nIn Religion, 'tis call'd Latitudinarian.\nIn Opinion, 'tis call'd Indifference,\nIn the Church of _Scotland_, 'tis call'd Prelacy.\nWhile Moderation of principles seems thus the general Sin of Parties,\nLet them consider whether Heaven it self has not declar'd War against\nus all on this Head, and fill'd us with immoderate Judgements.\nWhere's all our prospect of success Abroad, or prosperity at home?\nSince our late Thanksgiveing for Victories, how has Heaven Treated us,\nbut like a Nation, that being puff'd up and exalted with prosperity,\nbegan to slight Forreign Judgements, and leaving Providence to Work by\nit self fell to making War at home with one another, as if we would\nprove that the Scripture was not true _and that a Kingdom might stand\ntho' it were divided against it self_.\nHow has Heaven declar'd that he is resolv'd not to bless this\nimmoderate Generation? How has all their Measures been disappointed\nboth abroad and at home, all their designes been blasted, and the\nAnger of Heaven so remarkably bent against them, that even the little\nsuccess we have had, has been prescrib'd by Providence to those few\nhands who Act from Principles of Honesty and Temper, as if God did\nthereby point out to us who they are he delights to bless.\nThe _D----_ of _M----_ is a Whig _say some of our People who Hate all\nModeration_, he is so _Dutchify'd_, we shall never have any Good of\nhim, why that may be, but yet you see there is not one Article of our\nConduct has succeeded but what has been under his Mannagement.\nAnd Heaven has declar'd so Eminently against all other Branches of our\nAffaires, that I wish I am mistaken when I say 'tis plain either he\nseems to mislike the Cause or the Persons employ'd, and that however\nsevere he was pleas'd to Anminadvert upon the Publick affaires in the\nlate Violent Tempest, it seems that _for all this his Anger is not\nturned away but his hand is Stretched out still_.\nBut what has a Sermon to do to enquire, may some say, and if it had,\nhow shall it make appear whether God is displeased with our designs or\nthe Persons employed, with the cause or the Carryers of it on.\nAs to the cause, all men are Judges of the Justice of it, and all men\nknow the Foot of the present Confederacy, at least our part must be\nJust as it is to Maintain our just Rights, Liberty, Trade and\nReligion.\nIt must then be the Persons, the _R----s_, the Sir _G----s_,\n_G----ns_, the _R----ks_ of this War; that Heaven is resolv'd shall\nnot be the men, whom he will honour with the Deliverance of his\nPeople.\nAll wise Princes in the World have made it a constant Maxim in their\nGovernments, that when any of their great Generals prove Unfortunate,\ntho' never so Wise, they lay them by, as Persons that God does not\nthink fit to bless with success, and 'tis not needful to examine\nwhether it were not their fault, but to be Unfortunate is to be told\nfrom Heaven, that such a one is not the Man, and a Nation ought to\nunderstand it so.\nBut sure when Heaven Singles men out by Crossing their attempts _and\nMarks them for unfortunate_, and we can give our selves good reasons\nwhy they are thus Mark'd by the Divine displeasure; when we can see\ntheir false steps, their General designs against God and their\nCountries Intrests, 'tis high time then for those who sit at the Helm\nof Government, to Change hands and put their affaires into such\nPersons Conduct, against whom Heaven has not declar'd so plainly its\nDispleasure, nor the Nation its Dislike.\nWhy shou'd the Queen be desir'd to Chain down her own Happiness and\nthe Nations Interest, to the Missfortune of a few Men. Perhaps God may\nBless the Fleet under one Admiral, when he will not under another. I\nknow nothing against Admiral _Callemburgh_, he may be an Honest and\nworthy-man, and ready enough to Fight for the cause, for indeed most\nof the _Dutch_ Captains of Ships are so, but since Heaven has now\n'twice refus'd to let him go, and driven him back again, if I were the\nGovernour of his Masters affairs, he should not be sent a Third time,\nleast we should seem obstinately to Employ somebody that God himself\nhad declar'd against and had three times from Heaven forbid to go.\nI hope no Body will Construe this to be a Personal Satyr upon _Myn\nHeer Callemburgh_, But _take it among ye_, let it go, where it Fitts\nbest.\nIf these are not the Generation of Men that must do the Nations\nbusiness, then 'tis plain our Deliverance will never be wrought while\nthey are employ'd; If God will not bless them he will never bless us\ntill they are dismist.\nI doubt not we shall be deliver'd, and this Nation shall yet Triumph\nover her Enemies; but while wrong Instruments are Employ'd the Work\nwill be delay'd. _God would have a House built him_ But _David_ was\nnot the Man and therefore the Work was put off till _Solomon_ was in\nthe Throne.\nGod would have _Israel_ go into the Land of _Canaan_ and possess it,\nbut those Generals and those Captains were not the Men; _Moses_ and\n_Aaron_, and the great Men of the Camp were not such as God approv'd\noff and therefore _Israel_ could not go over _Joardan_ till they had\nlaid their Bones in the Wilderness.\n_England_ is hardly ever to pass over the _Jourdan_ before her, till\nthese Immoderate Men of Strife and Storms are laid by.\nIf any man ask me why these men shou'd not perfect the Nation Peace as\nwell as other men? _I do not say which Men nor who_, but let them be\nwho the enquirer please, I answer the Question, with a question _How\nshou'd men of no Moderaion bring us to Peace_.\nHow shou'd Men of strife bring us Peace and Union: Contraries may\nIllustrate but Contraries never Incorporate; Men of Temper, are the\nsafe men for this Nation. Men of heat are fit to Embroil it, but not\nto Cure it: they are something like our Sea Surgeons who fly to\nAmputation of Members upon every slight Fracture, when a more proper\nApplication would effect the Cure and save the Joynt.\n'Tis an ill sign especially for _England_ when Wars abroad wont make\nus Friends at home. Foreign dangers us'd to Unite us from whence Queen\n_Elizabeth_, has been said to leave this Character of the Nation\nbehind her, that they were much easier to be Govern'd in a time of War\nthan in Peace.\nBut when This, which us'd to be the only Cure of all our diseases,\nfails us, 'tis a sign the Distemper is Grown very strong, and there is\nsome more than usual Room for despair.\nThe only Way left the Nation is to obtain from those in power, that\nModeration may cease being the pretence and be really the practice.\nIt would be well all men would at least _be Occasional Conformists_,\nto this Extraordinary principle; and when there is such a Loud call to\nPeace both from Heaven and from the Throne, they would do well to\nconsider who are the Men of Peace and who are not: For certainly those\nImmoderate Gentlemen, who slight the Proposals for a general Union of\nCharity, cannot pretend to be Friends to the present Intrest of their\nNative Country.\nThese men, 'tis true, Cry out of the danger of the Church, but can\nthey make it appear that the Church is in any danger from Moderation\nand Temper; can they pretend that there is no way to secure her, but\nby pulling down all that differ with them, no way to save her but by\nthe ruin of her Protestant Brethren; there are Thousands of Loyal\nhonest Church-men, who are not of this mind; who believe that\nModeration and Charity to Protestant Dissenters is very Consistant\nwith the safety of the Church and with the present general Union which\nthey Earnestly desire.\nAs to Persons we have nothing to say to them, but this, without\npretending to prophesy, may be safely advanced, that Heaven it self,\nhas Eminently declared it self against the Fury and Immoderate Zeal of\nthose Gentlemen, and told us as plainly as possible, unless we would\nExpect a Voice from on high, that he neither Has nor Designs to bless\nthis Generation nor their proceedings.\nWhen ever our rulers think fit to see it, and to employ the Men and\nthe Methods which Heaven approves, then we may expect success from\nabroad, Peace at home, prosperity in Trade, Victory in War, plenty in\nthe Field, Mild and Comfortable Seasons, Calm Air, Smooth Seas, and\nsafe Habitations.\nTill then we are to expect our Houses Blown down, our Pallaces\nShatter'd, our Voyages broken, our Navys Ship-wreck'd, our Saylors\nDrown'd, our Confedrates Beaten, our Trade ruin'd, our Money spent and\nour Enemies encreased.\nThe Grand dispute in this Quarrelsome Age, is against our Brethren who\nDissent from the Church; and from what principle do we act? it is not\nsafe say they to let any of them be entrusted in the Government, that\nis, it is not profitable to let any Body enjoy great Places but\nthemselves.\nThis is the Bottom of the pretence, as to the safety of it. These are\nthe People who Cry out of the Danger from the Dissenters, but are not\nconcerned at our Danger from the _French_; that are frighted at the\nDissenters who as they pretend grow too Formidable for the Church, but\nare not disturb'd at the Threatning Growth of a Conquering _Popish_\nEnemy; that Deprecate the Clouds of Whiggism and Phanaticism, but\napprehend nothing of the Black Clouds of God's Threatning Judgements,\nwhich plainly tell them _if they would suffer themselves to think_,\nthat there is somthing in the general practice of the Nation which\ndoes not please him, and for which the hand of his Judgements is\nextended against us.\nThese are strange dull-sighted men, whose Intrest stands so directly\nbetween them and their understanding that they can see nothing but\nwhat that represents to them; God may Thunder from Heaven with Storms\nupon Storms, Ruin our Fleets, Drown our Sailors and Blow us back from\nthe best Contriv'd Expeditions in the World, but they will never\nbelieve the case affects them, never look into their own Conduct to\nsee if they have not help'd to bring these heavy Strokes upon the\nNation.\nHow many Thousands have we in _England_, who if the whole _Navy_ of\n_England_ had been at Stake; had rather have lost it than the _Bill\nagainst Occasional Conformity_; that had rather the _French_ should\nhave taken _Landau_ and Beat the Prince of _Hess Cassell_, than the\nQueen should have made such a _Speech for Peace and Union_; that had\nrather the _Duke_ of _Bavaria_ should have taken _Ausburgh_, than that\nthere should not have been _some Affront put upon the House of Lords_.\nAnd if such Zealots, such Christian Furies are met with by Providence,\nand see both the _Fleet_ and the _Occasional Bill_ lost together is it\nnot plain, what Providence meant in it. He that can not see that God\nfrom on high has Punish'd them in their own way and pointed out the\nCrime in the Vengeance must be more blind than usual, and must shut\ntheir Eyes against their own Consciences.\n'Tis plain Heaven has suited his Punishment to the Offence, has\nPunish'd the Stormy Temper of this Party of Men with _Storms of his\nVengeance, Storms on their Navies, Storms on their Houses, Storms on\ntheir Confederates_, and I question not will at last with _Storms in\ntheir Consciences_.\nIf there be any Use to be made of this matter, 'tis to excite the\nNation to Spue out from among them these Men of Storms, that Peace,\nLove, Charity and a General Union may succeed, and God may Bless us,\nReturn to us and delight to dwell among us, that the Favour of Heaven\nmay Return to us, and the Queen who has heartily declared her Eyes\nopen to this needful happiness, may enjoy the Blessing of Wise\nCounsellors and Faithful Servants, that Constant Victory may Crown all\nour Enterprizes, and the General Peace of Europe may be Established.\nIf any one can tell us a way to bring all these Blessed ends to pass,\nwithout a General Peace of Parties and Interests at home, he is\nWellcome to do it, for I profess It is hid from my Eyes.\n_FINIS._", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Lay-Man's Sermon upon the Late Storm\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by David Starner and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\nTHE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY\n[DANIEL DEFOE]\nAtalantis Major\n_Introduction by_\nJOHN J. PERRY\nPUBLICATION NUMBER 198\nWILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY\nUNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES\nGENERAL EDITOR\n    David Stuart Rodes, _University of California, Los Angeles_\nEDITORS\n    Charles L. Batten, _University of California, Los Angeles_\n    George Robert Guffey, _University of California, Los Angeles_\n    Maximillian E. Novak, _University of California, Los Angeles_\n    Thomas Wright, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_\nADVISORY EDITORS\n    Ralph Cohen, _University of Virginia_\n    William E. Conway, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_\n    Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_\n    Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_\n    Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_\n    Earl Miner, _Princeton University_\n    Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_\n    James Sutherland, _University College, London_\n    Robert Vosper, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_\nCORRESPONDING SECRETARY\n    Beverly J. Onley, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_\nEDITORIAL ASSISTANT\n    Frances M. Reed, _University of California, Los Angeles_\nINTRODUCTION\n_Atalantis Major_ is a thinly veiled allegory describing the November\n1710 election of the representative Scottish peers. The circumstances\nwhich surrounded this election were produced by the outcome of the\nprevious month's General Election--a landslide for the Tories--and, to\nunderstand these circumstances, the impact of that Tory victory must be\nseen within the context of the political events of 1710.\nBy early in 1710 it had become obvious that the Whig Ministry of Sidney\nGodolphin was unable or unwilling to negotiate an end to the long,\nexpensive, and consequently, unpopular war with France. The quarrel\nbetween Queen Anne and her confidante, the Duchess of Marlborough,\nsmouldered until, on 6 April 1710, the breach between them became\nfinal. The Queen's confidence in the Duke of Marlborough began to erode\nas early as May 1709 when he sought to be appointed \"Captain-General\nfor Life.\" Godolphin's decision to impeach the popular Rev. Dr. Henry\nSacheverell for preaching \"a sermon which reasserted the doctrine of\nnon-resistance to the will of the monarch\" was ill-advised, for not\nonly did it give the High-Church Tories a martyr, it also gave the\nAdministration the appearance of being against the Church. In securing\nthe impeachment of Sacheverell on 20 March 1710, the Whigs discovered\nthat they had lost the support and the confidence of both the\nParliament and the country.\nDissention within and intrigue from without further hastened the fall\nof the Administration. Godolphin, a moderate, had, after the General\nElection of 1708, found himself allied with the \"Junto\" of five\npowerful Whig Lords--Wharton, Sommers, Halifax, Orford, and\nSunderland--but it was, at best, an uneasy alliance. Throughout 1709\nand into the early months of 1710, personal jealousies drove the\nGodolphin-Marlborough interest farther and farther away from the Junto.\nRobert Harley and the Dukes of Somerset and Shrewsbury, in their\ndetermination to overthrow the Administration, exploited every chance\nto widen the rifts between Anne and her Ministers and between the two\nministerial factions. Abigail Hill Masham, who soon became an agent of\nHarley, replaced the Duchess of Marlborough as Anne's confidante.\nWhen the Ministry fell, it fell like a house of cards. On 14 April 1710\nShrewsbury was made Lord Chamberlain over the unavailing protests of\nGodolphin. Two months later, at the instigation of Somerset, the Queen\nreplaced Sunderland with the Tory Lord Dartmouth as Secretary of State.\nFinally, on 8 August, Godolphin was ordered to break the White Staff of\nhis office and Harley was appointed Treasurer. One by one the remaining\nJunto Ministers were replaced by Tories. By September the work was\ncomplete. The Duke of Marlborough alone remained, in command of the\narmy, but this was only to be until the new Ministry could negotiate a\npeace and his services would no longer be required.\nIt had been Harley's intention to govern by means of a \"moderate\"\nAdministration, a \"Queen's Ministery above party,\" but he had not\nreckoned on the outcome of the General Election called in October. \"On\nthe day Godolphin fell, Harley expounded his 'moderate' programme in a\nletter to the Duke of Newcastle: 'The Queen is assured you will approve\nher proceedings, which are directed to the sole aim of making an\nhonourable and safe peace, securing her allies, reserving the liberty\nand property of the subject, and the indulgence to Dissenters in\nparticular, and to perpetuate this by really securing the succession of\nthe House of Hanover.'\"[1]\nAlone, either the antagonism to the war or the intensity of feeling for\nthe High-Church cause which the Sacheverell affair engendered, would\nhave been sufficient to sweep the Whigs from power. Together, and\ncombined as they were with the prestige of the Queen's public support\nof Harley and the newly appointed Tory Ministers, these issues were\nirresistible. Harley found himself with an \"immoderate\" House of\nCommons. The Tories held 320 seats, the Whigs only 150, and there were\n40 seats whose votes were \"doubtful.\"[2] Many of the new\nParliamentarians were High-Church zealots, and most were anxious to\nturn the nation away from the policies of the Whig Administration of\nGodolphin.\nThe House of Lords, however, remained a bastion of Whig strength. As an\nhereditary body the House of Lords was simply not subject to the same\nopportunity for change as the elected House of Commons. Consequently,\nin 1710, as a result of the Glorious Revolution, the long reign of\nWilliam III, and the Godolphin Ministry, the majority of the members of\nthe House of Lords were of Whig or Revolution Settlement policies.\nTherein lay Harley's problem in late October of 1710: to obtain a Lords\nto match the Commons he had been given.\nAny early eighteenth-century Ministry--Whig or Tory--could count on\nhaving the support of those peers whose poverty made them dependent on\ngovernmental subsidies, but this number would not have given Harley\neven a bare majority in the strongly Whig House of Lords. And there\nHarley needed at least enough strength to ensure success for some of\nthe measures designed to satisfy the demands of the newly Tory House of\nCommons, particularly if his Ministry was to be able to negotiate a\nsatisfactory treaty of peace with France.\nTo obtain a Tory majority in the House of Lords commensurate with the\none in Commons, Harley could have seen to the creation of a sufficient\nnumber of new peerages; but this would have alienated too many factions\nand the recently completed Union with Scotland (1707) offered what\nappeared to be a far simpler expedient. The Act of Union provided for\nthe election of sixteen Scottish peers who would represent all of the\nScottish nobility in the House of Lords.[3] If he could ensure that all\nsixteen of these peers were Tory, Harley would be certain of a large\nblock of loyal votes in the upper house, or, at worst, he would have to\narrange for the creation of only a few new peers to neutralize the\nWhigs' strength. To John Campbell, the second Duke of Argyll, Harley\nassigned the task of orchestrating a Tory sweep in this election.\nThe Duke of Argyll sat in the House of Lords as the Earl of Greenwich\n(an English title), not as one of the elected peers, and, as such, he\nwas not elegible to stand as a candidate or to vote in this election.\nArgyll had supported the Whig Junto and held the rank of Lieutenant\nGeneral under Marlborough in France, but in 1710 (seeing the direction\nthe political tide was taking) he abandoned his support of Godolphin's\nMinistry. So that, \"by the time the [Sacheverell] Trial was finished,\nit was known that the great chief of the Campbells and of the Scottish\nWhigs had gone into opposition to the Government [of Godolphin] in\nleague with Harley, although he voted for the Doctor's condemnation....\"[4]\nArgyll and the sixteen representative peers (if they were all Tories),\ntogether with the votes of those peers who were dependant upon\nGovernment subsidies would give the new Ministry of Harley enough votes\nin the upper house for almost any eventuality--even the impeachment of\nMarlborough. It is possible to speculate that this was the\nplum--command of the British armies in Europe--that induced Argyll's\nchange from Whig to Tory in 1710. Argyll's jealousy and resentment of\nhis commander had been a well known bit of gossip for some time, and it\nis very possible that Argyll saw a new Government as his chance to\nsteal a march on Marlborough. Although Harley's Ministry did give the\nOrder of the Garter to Argyll on 20 December 1710, he was never\npromoted over Marlborough, but that was not due to any lack of success\nin assuring a Tory victory in the election of the peers. Argyll's\nheavy-handed management of that election is the subject of Defoe's\n_Atalantis Major_.\nBy birth and education Daniel Defoe was a member of the mercantile\nmiddle class. He was a Dissenter and his political and economic\nsympathies generally coincided with those of the moderate Whigs. A\nlimited monarchy, the destruction of France's commercial empire,\nliberty of conscience for Dissenters and Nonconformists, and a\nProtestant (that is, Hanover) Succession were the imperatives which lay\nbehind much of his political and economic thinking and writing. From as\nearly as 1694 he had served William III as a pamphleteer-propagandist\nfor the vigorous prosecution of the war with France. After his\nfive-month imprisonment in 1703 for writing _The Shortest Way with\nDissenters_, Defoe was employed as an agent and pamphleteer of the\nGovernment. First, in the service of Robert Harley, Godolphin's\nSecretary of State during the early moderate years of the Godolphin\nAdministration (1704-08), and thereafter working for Godolphin himself,\nDefoe's _Review_ preached the gospel of national unity above party\nfaction. When Harley replaced Godolphin as Treasurer in 1710, Defoe\nreturned to his service.\nAlthough it may appear from this that Defoe's pen was for hire by\nwhichever party was in power, in point of fact, Defoe's political views\nwere remarkably congruent with those of both Harley and Godolphin. All\nthree were staunch supporters of England's commercial interests, the\nHanoverian Succession, liberty of conscience for Dissenters and\nNonconformists, and the terms of the Revolution Settlement. It must be\nremembered that Godolphin and Harley were both moderates, each trying\nto chart his course between the extremes of the parties. They, like\nDaniel Defoe, saw their loyalty being to England and to the Queen, not\nto a party. Like Defoe, they both discovered that politics often make\nstrange bedfellows. Godolphin, faced with a large Whig majority in the\nHouse of Commons after the General Election of 1708, found that his\nfortunes were bound to those of the Junto. Harley, after the General\nElection of 1710, discovered the necessity of courting the High-Church\nTories far more than he would have liked.\nArgyll's slate of Scottish peers for the November election included men\nwho were even more extreme in their Toryism than the majority of\nHigh-Church English Tories. Most of the sixteen were High-Church, many\nhad strong Catholic leanings; all of them were against increasing the\nreligious liberties of the Scottish Presbyterians (and thus those of\nthe English Dissenters and Nonconformists). Several of these peers had\nbeen openly professed Jacobites and all were, in some degree,\nsympathetic to France. To have men with such beliefs in Parliament\nmeant, to Defoe, the chance that Marlborough's victories in France\nwould be negotiated away, the loss of what the Toleration Act of 1689\nhad gained, and finally, the spector of the Pretender on the throne. In\nshort, such men could mean the loss of all that the Revolution and the\nwar with France had won. Yet, in the late autumn of 1710, Defoe found\nhimself in Edinburgh, the agent and propagandist of the man on whose\nbehalf Argyll had engineered the election of men of such politics.\nDefoe's mission in Edinburgh that autumn was to allay the fears of the\nPresbyterian clergy and Whig merchants about the new Tory Ministry. His\nmessage to them was, in Professor Sutherland's words, that\n    What the country needed ... was steady, moderate men, whether they\n    called themselves Whig or Tory, men who would uphold the Protestant\n    succession and avoid extreme measures; and that on the whole was\n    what it had now got [appearances to the contrary notwithstanding].\n    The Ministry was not going to give way to the clamours of the High\n    Tory rank and file; and the Queen would certainly not countenance\n    any form of persecution.[5]\nIn short, Defoe was charged with convincing his Scottish friends and\nassociates (and, by means of the _Review_, the nation at large) the\nopposite of all that Argyll's actions and words bespoke of Harley's\nintentions.\nDefoe wrote Harley from Edinburgh on 18 November (eight days after the\nelection of the peers) to voice his dismay at the tactics that had been\nused by Argyll. By them his own mission on Harley's behalf had been\nimpaired:\n    I hint this Sir to Confirm my Censure of the Conduct aforesaid as\n    Imprudent and as what has rendred [sic] the quieting these people,\n    which was Easy before, Very Difficult now.[6]\nFurther, he suggests that Harley's heretofore moderate allies, the\nSquadrone, have been pushed by Argyll into league with the old Court\nParty that had supported the Godolphin Ministry. This letter also\ncontains a brief summary of the main events which were to form the plot\nof _Atalantis Major_, but it does not attack Argyll with the same\nbitterness that the longer work does. Defoe writes:\n    In the late Election, the Conduct of the D of 60 [Argyll], the E of\n    163 [Islay], and the Earle of 194 [Mar] is Very Perticular....\n    [They] Declared Openly [that] the Quallification of those to be\n    Chosen ... [was] their agreeing to Impeach 140 [Godolphin] and 193\n    [Marlborough], Nor did the Impudence End there, but On all\n    Occasions to Say in So Many Words They had her Majties Orders to\n    Choose Such and Such and it must be don: This was So abandonning\n    all Reserves, that it has disgusted the Generallity, and has Put\n    them Upon Measures of Uniteing, which may shut the door upon all\n    future Measures, what Ever the Occasion may be....\n    Now they have Returnd their Number, it were to be Wished they Could\n    have Avoided a few who are Declar'd profest Jacobites, Such as 197\n    [Marischal], Kilsyth, Blantire, Hume &c. who are known to aim in\n    all they do at the Pretender, and whose being Now Chosen has many\n    ill Effects here What Ever may be as to Over-ruleing them in\n    England, I mean as to Encreasing the Insolence of Jacobitisme in\n    the North, where its Strength is far from being Contemptible.[7]\nWhat Defoe hoped to obtain from Harley by this and succeeding letters\non this subject is not clear. He may have been seeking Harley's public\nrepudiation of the Jacobite peers, or at least some private assurances\nthat what Argyll had told the peers did not represent the new\nMinistry's policies. Whatever it was he sought, by late December it was\nobviously not forthcoming from Harley or his Ministry. And on 20\nDecember Argyll was made a Knight of the Garter. It was during this\nDecember that the bulk of _Atalantis Major_ was written, most probably\nbetween 30 November and 26 December. On 26 December 1710 Defoe wrote\nHarley of the existence of \"Two Vile Ill Natur'd Pamphlets ... both of\nwhich have fallen into My hands in Manuscript, and I think I have\nprevented both their Printing. The first Was advertised in the Gazette\nhere and Called the Scots atalantis[8] ... The Other Pamphlet is called\n_Atalantis Major_.\" The letter concludes with a short description of\nthe work, a disavowal of any knowledge of its authorship, and the hope\nthat he can suppress its publication:\n    The Other Pamphlet is called _Atalantis Major_; and is a Bitter\n    Invective against the D of Argyle, the E of Mar, and the Election\n    of the Peers. It is Certainly Written by Some English man, and I\n    have Some Guess at the Man, but dare not be positive. I have\n    hitherto kept this also from the Press, and believe it will be\n    Impossible for them to get it printed here after the Measures I\n    have Taken. The Party I Got it of pretends the Coppy Came from\n    England, But I am of Another Opinion. I shall Trouble you no\n    farther about it because if possible I can get it Coppyed, I will\n    Transmit the Coppy by Next post, for I have the Originall in My\n    hand. They Expect I shall Encourage and assist them in the\n    Mannageing it, and Till I can Take a Coppy I shall not Undeciev\nThere is no evidence to suggest that Harley doubted Defoe's disclaimer\nor that Defoe sent the copy to Harley.\nSince Defoe was back in London on 13 February 1711, _Atalantis Major_\nmust have been seen through the press sometime between 26 December and\nthe end of January, not, as Moore lists it, \"before 26 December\n1710.\"[10] Internal evidence suggests an even narrower range of\nprobable dates of publication. The last four pages of _Atalantis Major_\ndeal with the Duke of Argyll being given command of the English forces\nin Spain and the singular lack of grace with which he undertook this\ncommand. Since Argyll was not given command of the Peninsula campaign\nuntil 11 January 1711, it could not be until after this date that the\nmanuscript could have been finished and printed.\nThe work bears few signs of being hastily printed. There are only nine\ntypographical errors,[11] and four of these are catchwords. There is no\nevidence to suggest that there was more than one printing of the\npamphlet,[12] and the use of several Scotticisms[13] seems to offer\nsupport for the contention that the pamphlet was intended for a\nprimarily Scottish audience.\nWilliam Lee was the first to ascribe the work to Defoe, and this\nascription has been accepted by both Dottin and Moore.[14] The evidence\nfor assigning this work to Defoe seems to rest on the two letters to\nHarley quoted above. Another proof of Defoe's authorship of _Atalantis\nMajor_ is to be found in the remark it contains, \"That the Southern\nPart of the Island [that is, England] was the most remarkable of any,\nas to the Policy of their Government, and the Character of the People;\nand excepting _Englishmen_ and _Polanders_, there is not such another\nNation in the World\" (p. 12). In 1704 Defoe had written _The Dyet of\nPoland_, a poem in which he had made a similar unflattering comparison\nbetween England and Poland. A far more substantial case for Defoe's\nauthorship can be made from the existence of the anecdote of John\nWhite, Edinburgh's hangman, in both a letter to Harley (18 November\n1710) and the _Review_ (for 30 November 1710), as well as in _Atalantis\nKey to Names and Characters in _Atalantis Major_\nIn the thinly disguised allegory of _Atalantis Major_, _Atalantis_ is,\nof course, Britain. _Olreeky_, or _Old Reeky_, or simply _Reeky_, is\nstill used as an affectionate local term for the city of Edinburgh,\nprone as it is to be enshrouded in mists and smoke in the early\nmorning. _Tartary_ is France, and the French are referred to as either\nthe _Tartarians_ or the _Barbarians_. Jacobites are also indicated by\nthe name _Tartarians_, since the Pretender's cause was actively\nsupported by Louis XIV. _Japan_ is Spain and _China_ stands for\nHolland. The characters who appear in _Atalantis Major_ are (in the\norder that they are mentioned):\n    _The Duke de Sanquarius_ (p. 14) is James Douglas, second Duke of\n    Queensberry and Duke of Dover (1662-1711);\n    _The Earl of Stairdale_ (p. 15) is John Dalrymple, second Earl of\n    _The Earl of Crawlinfordsay_ (p. 16) is John Lindsay, nineteenth\n    Earl of Crawford (d. 1713);\n    _The Prince of Greeniccio of the ancient Blood of Argyllius_ (p.\n    17) is John Campbell, second Duke of Argyll, Baron Chatham and Earl\n    _The Earl of Marereskine_ (p. 18) is John Erskine, eleventh Earl of\n    Mar of the Erskine line (1675-1732);\n    _The Prince de Heymuthius_ (p. 18) is John Churchill, first Duke of\n    Marlborough and Baron Churchill of Aymouth (1650-1722);\n    _The Earl of Dolphinus_ (p. 18) is Sidney Godolphin (1645-1712);\n    _Bellcampo, Lord of the Isles_ (p. 19) is Archibald Campbell, first\n    and only Earl of Islay (pronounced \"Isle-ah\") and brother and heir\n    of the second Duke of Argyll (1682-1761);\n    _One of the Ministers_ (p. 22) is Thomas Miller of Kirkliston;\n    _John ----, his Majesty's Hangman_ (p. 22) is John White;\n    _Bradalbino_ (p. 24) is John Campbell, first Earl of Breadalbane\n    _Leslynus_ (p. 24) is David Leslie, third Earl of Leven\n    _One of the family of Boiilio_ (p. 24) is David Boyle, first Earl\n    _The Prince de Rosymonte_ (p. 34) is James Graham, fourth Marquis\n    and first Duke of Montrose (d. 1742).\nThe fact that, in several cases, the names used by Defoe are developed\nfrom family names and not the title seems to offer support for the\ncontention that _Atalantis Major_ was intended primarily for a Scottish\naudience. Further, Defoe's name for Marlborough--_Heymuthius_--comes\nfrom his one Scottish title, Baron Aymouth (now Eyemouth, a fishing\ntown on the southeast coast of Scotland), and not from his better-known\nEnglish title, the Duke of Marlborough.\nState University College\nBrockport, New York\nNOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION\n 1. George Macaulay Trevelyan, _England Under Queen Anne_ (London:\nLongmans, Green and Co., 1948), III, 68.\n 2. These are Trevelyan's figures (_op. cit._, 73). W. A. Speck (_Tory\nand Whig_ [London: Macmillan, 1970], p. 123) gives the Tories 332 seats\nand 181 seats to the Whigs in this election.\n 3. In point of fact, Harley's concern for the loyalty of the\nrepresentative peers is unique in the history of these elections. In\nsubsequent Parliaments, the Scottish peers seldom, if ever, voted\nagainst the Government--even at the trial of Lord Lovat in 1745-6. For\none thing, almost without exception, the representative peers were\ndependent on governmental subsidies and this dependence increased\nduring the course of the eighteenth century (see J. H. Plumb, _The\nGrowth of Political Stability in England_ [London: Penguin, 1973], p.\n180; and Geoffrey Holmes, _British Politics in the Age of Anne_\n[London: Macmillan, 1967], p. 393). The practice of electing a\nrepresentative peerage for Scotland was discontinued after 1782 (see\nTrevelyan, _op. cit._, 235).\n 4. Trevelyan, _op. cit._, 58.\n 5. James R. Sutherland, _Defoe_ (London: Methuen, 1950), p. 179.\n 6. _The Letters of Daniel Defoe_, ed. by George Harris Healey (Oxford:\nClarendon Press, 1955), p. 296.\n 8. Healey reports that \"in such issues as I have been able to find of\nthe _Scots Postman, or the New Edinburgh Gazette_, there is no mention\nof the _Scots Atalantis_\" (_Letters_, p. 306, n. 1). The title of this\nwork and of Defoe's _Atalantis Major_ are derived from Mrs. Manley's\n_New Atalantis or Secret Memoirs and Manners of several Persons of\nQuality of both Sexes from the New Atalantis, an island in the\nMediterranean_ (1709). The OED records that the word _atalantis_\nenjoyed a brief currency in the eighteenth century with the meaning, \"a\nsecret or scandalous history.\"\n10. John Robert Moore, _A Checklist of the Writings of Daniel Defoe_\n(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1960), p. 82.\n11. Page 12, line 5: _do_ is omitted before _this_; page 16, line 24:\n_an_ for _on_; page 17, line 6: _Grandfathers_ for _Grandfather's_;\npage 19, the catch-word, _the_ for _this_; page 20, line 5: _run_ for\n_ran_; page 22, line 22: _of_ for _off_; page 28, the catch-word,\n_they_ for _the_; page 36, the catch-word, _Cha-_ for _Courage_; page\n37, the catch-word, _Lansd_ for _Lands_. In addition, there are several\nplaces where the printer uses eighteenth-century variant spellings such\nas _ballances_ (pp. 5, 8), _mannaged_ (p. 2), _quallifie_ (p. 8),\n_Soveraign_ (p. 41) and _steddy_ (p. 15). Eighteenth-century\northographic practice would have permitted such spellings. The word\n_entitled_, however, appears on page five as both _entituled_ and\n_intituled_.\n12. None of the various copies I have examined contains typographical\ndifferences--even in the case of the typographical errors.\n13. On page 38, line 25, the word _Big_ is used where _Large_ would\nhave been the English usage; on page 42, line 3, the word _Bann'd_ is\nused for _Swore_ and defined in the text as an \"Atalantic word\"; on\npage 43, line 4, the word _evite_ is used instead of _avoid_.\n14. William Lee, _Daniel Defoe: His Life, and Recently Discovered\nWritings_ (London: Hotten, 1869), I, 177; Paul Dottin, _Daniel Defoe_,\ntrans. Louise Ragan (New York, Macaulay, 1929), p. 155; John Robert\nMoore, _Daniel Defoe, Citizen of the Modern World_ (Chicago: University\nof Chicago Press, 1958), p. 191; and Moore, _A Checklist of the\nWritings of Daniel Defoe_(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1962),\nBIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE\n_Atalantis Major_ is reproduced from a copy of the first edition\n(1711) in the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library (Shelf Mark:\n*PR/3404/A851). A typical type-page (p. 4) measures 158 \u00d7 82 mm.\nAtalantis Major.\nPrinted in _Olreeky_, the Chief City of the North Part of _Atalantis\nMajor_.\n_Anno Mundi_ 1711.\nAtalantis Major.\nThere having been a large Account given to the World of several\nremarkable Adventures which happened lately in the famous _Atalantis_,\nan Island, which the ingenious Authors found placed in the\n_Mediterranean_ Sea; the Success of which Accounts, but especially the\nUsefulness of the Relation, to the Ends for which they were designed,\nhaving been very remarkable, I thought it could not be unacceptable to\nthe World, (especially to those who _have been Already so delighted_\nwith News from that Island) to give a particular Historical Narration\nof some remarkable Transactions which happened in the Great Island,\ncalled, _Atalantis Major_, a famous well known Island, tho' much\nfarther North, lying in the _Ducaledonian_ Ocean, which Island it was\nmy good Fortune to winter at, the last time I returned North about from\n_China_, by the Streights of _Nassau_ and _Wygates_, and the Eastern\nCoast of _Grand Tartary_.\nI have nothing to do to enquire, whether our late Authors mistook or\nnot, in placing the Island _Atalantis_ in the _Mediterranean_ Sea, or,\nwhether they might find some small Island of that Name among the\ninfinite Crowd of Islands of the _Egean_ Sea: But as the mighty\nTransactions of which my History shall be the faithful Relator, are of\ntoo great Consequence in the World to be brought forth on so mean a\nStage; so the Place, and the mighty People, and by whom this Revolution\nof Affairs have been mannaged, are all suitable to the Greatness and\nGlory of the Actions themselves.\nAs Geographers have no doubt given a full Description of this famous\nIsland, and allowed it due Place in the Globes, where it stands noted\nfor the biggest of the Kind in the Northern World, I need spend none of\nyour Time in the Description of the Place, excepting such as shall fall\nnaturally in my Way, as I come to treat of the People, and historically\nof their Behaviour.\nThe Island is possest by a brave, generous, powerful and wealthy\nNation, truly Great in their natural Gallantry of Spirit, terrible in\nthe Field, rich in the Product of their Lands, more in their general\nCommerce, most of all in their Manufactures, Industry and Application:\nThey have some few Errors in their Conduct, which seems owing to the\nClimate, which is cold and moist, or to their Diet, which is strong and\nluxurious, and particularly to their way of Living, which in Eating and\nDrinking, is high, to an Excess.\nThis makes them Cholerick, Envious, and above all Contentious, so that\nthe Nation is ever divided into Parties and Factions: They pursue their\nFeuds with the most eagerness imaginable in their Turns, commit all\nKinds of Errors even on both Sides alternately, as they get uppermost.\nThis occasions much Heat, tho' the Country is Cold, little Charity, and\nabove all, (which the Climate has the blame off) they are by their own\nConfession, of short Memories, partly as to Injuries, but especially as\nto Kindnesses, Services and inherent Merit. Hence, Gratitude is not the\nnational Virtue, nor is encouraging Virtue any Branch of the\nManufacture of the Place; long Services often meet here with unjust\nCensures; overgrown Merit with necessary Contempt: He must be a bold\nMan that dares oblige them; he is sure to provoke them by it to use him\nvery severely.\nIf they are reduc'd to any extreme Distress, he must be weary of his\nLife that Attempts to rescue them from the Danger; he is as sure to Die\nfor it as they are sure to be Unjust: It is Natural to the Blood of the\nRace, if they are obliged beyond the Power of Payment, they presently\nhate, because they scorn to be in Debt. Hence also Benefactors are the\nmost abhorr'd People in the World, they Walk always alone, for every\nMan keeps at a distance from them.\nIf a Man happens to be bound Apprentice to his own generous Spirit, and\nresolves to do them good, he must do it to God, to do it to them is to\nwork to the Devil; he must be sure to run the Gauntlet, and bear the\nLashes of Ten thousand Tongues, the Reproach of all those he serves,\nand will Die unpitied.\nIf ever they do relent, if ever they acknowledge Services, 'tis always\nafter the Man is dead, that he may not upbraid them with it. An eminent\ngreat Man among them, and rich to a Prodigy, had been almost drowned,\nbut was taken up in the Interval by a poor Man; when he came to\nhimself, he gave the poor Man Six-pence, but could never abide the\nsight of him after: The poor Man afterwards had the Dissaster of being\ndrowned himself, and then the rich Man bewail'd that he had not made\nhim a better Return, wherefore, in abundant Gratitude, he settled upon\nthe Widow and her Six Children, a noble Pension of 20 _s. per Annum_.\nIt was a saying of One of their great and wise Men, of a poor Servant\nthat had saved his Life; he saved my Life, _said he_, and therefore I\nhate to see him, for it is an intolerable Life to have always a\nCreditor in my Sight that I cannot ballance Accounts with.\nBut all this is by the By. The Inhabitants of this Great Island are,\nthose things excepted, a Noble, Gallant, Ancient, Wealthy People; and a\nStranger may very well winter among them. I could say more in their\nPraise but the ensuing History calls me off from that Subject.\nThere happen'd in that famous Island, when I was last there, an\nOccasion upon some State Affairs to assemble an extraordinary Council\nof the Nobility, to consult together with the Sovereign; whole\nHereditary Councellors they were by the Constitution of the Place:\nThese were not chosen by the Inhabitants, as in such Cases among us our\nParliament Men are chosen; but were by Birth and Blood, or by\nDignities, High-Offices, _&c._ entitled to sit in the aforesaid\nCouncil, except one Part of the Island, who had by some former\nConstitution been a several distinct Government, and had a certain\nNumber of Nobility of their own. This Part having by some ancient\nTreaty been join'd to the other, their whole Nobility were not\nintituled to the Right of sitting in Council as above; but they usually\nmet by themselves upon such Occasions, and chose a certain Number to\nrepresent the whole Body. This Number was, as near as I can remember,\nSixteen or thereabouts, not reckoning some who were singled out by the\nSovereign to be advanc'd by new Titles, to be Members of the Great Body\nof the Hereditary Nobility; a Favour, which by the Stipulations of the\nsaid Agreement, was reserv'd to the Sovereign of that whole Island.\nNow there happening, as I have noted, an Occasion to assemble this\nGreat Council; the Nobility of that Part of the Island which were thus\nparticularly constituted, behoved to meet, _as said is_, to elect the\nNumber that were to represent them in the great Assembly; and the\nHistory of that Meeting having so many strange Circumstances in it, and\nmaking so much Noise in that Country, it cannot but be useful for us to\nbe inform'd of it.\nThe Nobility of that Island, as I find it too much the Fate of all the\nNobility in the World, were unhappily divided into Factions and\nseparate Interests, and therefore before I proceed to the Relation, it\nwill be necessary to give you a brief Account of these several\nDivisions, and as to the Characters of the Persons, it will necessarily\nfall into the Course of the Story.\nThe Divisions and Animosities which, as I say, were among the Nobility,\nwere very unhappily occasion'd upon two several Foundations, and\ntherefore consisted of two several Kinds.\nThis Island, it seems, was govern'd by a very glorious Queen, who\nhowever she was of the ancient Royal Blood of that Country, was yet for\nReasons more especially respecting the Safety of the Country, plac'd\nupon the Throne by the Suffrage of the Nobility and People, without\nRegard to her Father or his Male Children, who for like Reasons of\nSafety they had Depos'd and render'd incapable: There being, it seems a\nPower reserv'd by the Constitution of that Place, to the said Nobility\nand People so to do a thing so like what we call in _England_\nParliamentary Limitation, that it gives me great Reason to think the\nPower of Parliaments limiting the Crown is a natural Principle, and\nfounded upon meer Original Light, since it should be so exactly\nestablish'd in a Country so remote and so entirely excluded from\nCorrespondence with _Europe_, as this of the Island of _Atalantis_.\nThe Queen of this Island, by the Assistance of exquisite Councellors,\nPunctual Management, and a mild merciful Administration, had obtain'd\nthe entire Affection of Her Subjects at Home, and as long as she\ncontinued the Administration in those Hands she preserv'd that\nAffection very entire to herself; She had also, by the Conduct of\neminent and most glorious Commanders, rendered her self Victorious\nabroad, in a long, terrible and expensive War, against the barbarous\n_Tartarian_ Emperor, whose growing Greatness, had forced her\nPredecessor, in Conjunction with several neighbouring Nations, to have\nrecourse to Arms, to keep up a Ballance of Power in that Part of the\nWorld, as long as those fortunate Generals commanded, her Affairs were\nblest by Sea and Land; till the _Barbarians_ began to stoop their\nPride, to be humbled, and they sought Peace, made great Offers of\nrestoring the Kingdoms they had usurped, and of establishing a lasting\nTranquillity in those Parts of the World.\nHow the Face of Affairs there altered, how some Factions prevailing at\nHome, made a Breach in all this blessed Harmony, how the faithful\nCouncellors at Home were dismiss'd and disgrac'd, the victorious\nGenerals Abroad ill used and ungratefully treated, by which the Publick\nCredit sunk at Home, the great Confederates of this glorious Queen were\ndiscouraged and allarmed, the _Barbarians_ encouraged to hold out,\ncarry on the War, and reject the Terms of Peace, they would before have\ncomplied with: These are Things perhaps my stay in that Place not\npermitting me to get a full Account of, much less see the Issue of, I\nshall for the present omit, perhaps my next Voyage may more fully\nquallifie me to inform you.\nMy present Relation refers more especially to the Affair of the\nElection of those representing Nobles, which, as before, the Northern\nPart of the Island, by a late Treaty of Coalition, were obliged to send\nup as often as the Soveraign of the Country thought fit to Summon her\nHereditary Council to meet, which Summons was generally once in Three\nYears.\nTo let you into the Nature of the unhappy Strife which is the Subject\nof my present Relation, it may be necessary to descend to a Historical\nRelation of some Facts for a few Years past, and to give the Characters\nof some Persons who have the principal Conduct in the present Affairs.\nThere had been a Contention in the last Election in the same Place, (we\nshall go no further back) of something of the like Nature with this;\nwherein the same Heat was unhappily breaking out against the Friends\nand Favourites of the great Queen of the Island, as had now come to a\nfull height; it is too true, That the Factions which then agitated the\nNobility being between the Court-Party then so called, and a flying\nSquadron of Noblemen, who were of the same general Denomination with\nthemselves, that Breach tended so much to the dividing their Interest,\nthat they could never effectually joyn it again, they made that\nSeperation of Affection then which they could never unite, let in those\nEnemies then which they could never get removed again, brought those\nCharges and Accusations against one another then which their Enemies\nhave since made use off, and which they cannot now deny but are fatal\nto them.\nThe Parties are so naturally resembling our unhappy Divisions in\n_Britain_, have been so exactly pursued by our Methods, are so properly\nadapted to Persons as well as Things, so alike in Temper, Manners,\nManagement and Design, to our Parties, of _Tory_, _Whig_, _High\nChurch_, _Low Church_, _Old Whig_, _New Whig_, _High Flyer_,\n_Dissenter_, _Jacobite_, _Court_, _Country_, _Revolution_, _Union_, and\nthe like. That to give the more lively Representation of them to your\nMinds, and to avoid the barbarous Words used in the Country, where the\nLanguage is altogether unknown to us, and unlike ours, I shall even\ncall them by the same Names, giving a brief Description as I go on, and\nalways desiring you to add a Subintelligitur for the word _Atalantick_\nto them all; as the _Atalantick Whigs_, _Atalantick Tories_,\n_Atalantick High Church_, and so of all the rest: And whenever you meet\nwith the Names or Distinctions of _Whig_, _Tory_, _High Church_, _Low\nChurch_, _&c._ in this Discourse, the Author provides against any other\nSuggestion or Meaning, than that of the _Whigs_, _Tories_, _High\nChurch_, _Low Church_, _Old Whig_, _New Whig_, _High Flyers_,\n_Dissenters_, _Jacobites_, _&c._ who are Inhabitants of the famous\nIsland of _Atalantis Major_, situate beyond the North Cape, between the\nDegrees of 42 and 80 of Northern Latitude, as you sail from _China_\ninto _Europe_, by the Streights of _Nassau_, the Island of _Nova\nZembla_, (if it be an Island) and the like, being what we call the\nNorth-East Passages: And you cannot blame me for being thus Particular\nin this early Protestation, if you consider how ready the Men of this\nAge are to Censure, Condemn and Reproach, the Meaning of Authors,\nwhether they themseves have any meaning or no. If any Man shall presume\nto say, there is no such Place, I may as readily answer their\nPresumption, by another less Criminal, _viz._ That they never have past\nthat Way to _China_, and consequently cannot demonstrate the Truth of\nwhat they say.\nHaving thus premised what I think necessary, to fence this Work against\nthe Malice of the Times, I am next to tell you, That I shall confine\nthis Part of my Account to the Transactions of the Northern Part of\nthis great Island, and therein to what happened in this Case of the\nElection of their Noble Councellors only; yet I must Hint a little at\nwhat had been transacting in the Southern Parts of the Island; and this\nis absolutely necessary, in order to make the other Accounts\nintelligible.\nIn order to this, you are to understand, That the Southern Part of the\nIsland was the most remarkable of any, as to the Policy of their\nGovernment, and the Character of the People; and excepting _Englishmen_\nand _Polanders_, there is not such another Nation in the World: Here\nthey reckoned about Fifty three several Sects, Divisions, and espoused\nOpinions in Religion, upon most of the Heads whereof the People\nactually seperated from one another; such as, (1.) _Churchmen_, and\namong them _High Church_, _Low Church_, _Non Jurors_, _Prelatists_,\n_Socinians_, _Arians_, _Arminians_, _Deists_, _Atheists_,\n_Immoralists_, _Flyers_, _Soul-Sleepers_, _Prophets_, _&c._ (2.)\n_Presbyterians_, and under that head all kind of Dissenters,\n_Cameronians_, _Independants_, _Anabaptists_, _Baptists_,\n_Seventh-Day-Men_, _Sabatarians_, _Donatists_, _Gnosticks_,\n_Antiprelatists_, _Muggletonians_, and various undistinguishable\n_Quakers_ both wet and dry, _Sweet Singers_, _Family of Love_,\n_Christian Jews_, _Jewish Christians_, and the like. In the State, the\nDivisions were no less Fatal, or the variety greater in Proportion,\nthese we may, as I said before, call by the Names which the like\nFactions are distinguish'd by here; such as _Tory_, _Whig_, _Low\nChurch_, _Hot_ _Whig_, _Old Whig_, _Modern Whig_, _High Flyer_, _High\nChurch_, _High Tory_, a _Gillicranky_, a _Tantivy_, _Tackers_, _Non\nJurors_, _Assassinators_, _Junto's_, _Squadroni_, _Court_, _Country_,\n_Revolutionists_, _Non Resisters_, _Passive Obedience Men_, and the\nlike.\nYou may understand, that the Queen of the Island had thought fit to\nchange Hands in the Administration just before I came there, and tho'\nit was given out that the change would not be from what we call here a\nWhig to a Tory Ministry, in effect it past for no other, especially for\nthat the Whigs were generally laid by in every publick Matter, and the\nTories, or at least such as had appear'd with them were all taken in.\nAmong the Persons turn'd out of Employ, or very much envy'd in it, we\nfind two great Personages, Men of the greatest Eminency in their\nStation that the Age had produc'd in that Island, their Country had no\nError to find in their Conduct except it were that it was so much in\ndebt to their Services, that they could not be capable of rewarding it,\ntherefore like the corrupted Nature of the whole Race of Man, they hate\nthe Men, as a late Author says, because they hate to be in debt beyond\nthe Power of Payment.\nOne of these presided over the Treasure, the other over the Army, and\nexcept what may have happen'd since those days, their very Enemies had\nnot been able to assign any Reason from their own Behaviour, why they\ndismist them. Of these more in the Process of the Story.\nFor the present it shall suffice to tell you, without other Preamble,\nboth these were by the Artifice of their Enemies, dispossess'd of the\nQueen of the Island's Favour, and that with them fell the Juncto's and\nSquadrons of their Friends in most Part of the Southern _Atalantis_.\nIn the North Part of the Island the Divisions of the Court had not\nextended so far, at least they had not been push'd so vigorously, the\ngreat Officers kept their Posts, whether Civil or Military, not the\nleast Alteration was made, except of a few inferiour Officers, and\nthose but casually; all seem'd to stand at a Stay till the Election of\nthe noble Councellors aforesaid, and till the sitting of the great\nCouncil, as above.\nThere were some of the Nobility of these Northern Parts that had very\nmuch the Favour of their Prince, and by whom she had always been\ndirected in those things that related to that Part of Her Dominions,\nThese were,\n1. The Duke _de Sanquarius_, a Northern Prince of great Reputation who\nhad the principal Trust in the Management of the late Coalition, which,\nas is noted already, had formerly been made between this Northern Part\nof the Island and the Southern. This Prince was a Person of great\nPrudence and Policy, perfect Master of the Interest, Temper and\nConstitution of the Country and People; great and as a Master of his\nown Passions, that had an Insight into Persons as well as things, and\nwas, without Dispute, the best qualify'd to manage that uneasy People,\nof any Man in that Part of the Island: He had a leading Interest among\nthem, and us'd it with such Temper and such Clearness of Judgment, as\nseldom failed to bring to pass whatever he undertook. He was Viceroy in\nthe great Meeting of the States of that Country, several times; in\nwhich he behav'd to the Satisfaction of his Sovereign and the general\nGood, even to the Confession of his Enemies, after the separate\nGovernment of that Part of the Island ceas'd he was receiv'd very\ngraciously by the Queen, and made principal Secretary of State.\n2. The Earl of _Stairdale_ was another, a Nobleman of extraordinary\nMerit, distinguish'd for a thousand good Qualities; affable, generous,\nexceeding curteous, steddy in a sound Principle, wise above his Age,\nbrave above his Neighbours. His Family had been famous for the Gown, he\nwas like to make it more so by the Sword: He had at this time a very\nhonourable Command in the Armies of _Atalantis Major_, and being the\nsame thing as we call a Lieutenant General, was employed against the\n_Tartarians_.\n3. The Earl of _Crawlinfordsay_ a Nobleman of a most ancient Race,\nbeing the first of his Degree in the whole _Atalantis Major_, an\nhonest, bold, gallant Person; he had so much Goodness in his Temper,\nCourage in his Heart, and Honesty in his Face, that made all Men love\nhim; he was true to his Sovereign, and tho' his Fortunes too depended\nupon the _Court_, being Captain of the Queen's Guards, yet so true to\nhis Honour, that he scorn'd to sacrifice his Principle to his Interest;\nhad too much Courage to be bully'd, and too much Honesty to be brib'd;\ntoo much Wit to be wheedl'd and too much Warmth to forbear telling it\nin the Teeth of those that try'd all those ways to bring him into their\nParty.\n4. The Prince of _Greeniccio_ of the ancient Blood of _Agyllius_. This\nwas a young Nobleman of great Hopes, and from whom great things were\nexpected, an account of the very Race he was descended from. Had he\ninherited the Principles of his Family as he did the Honour and Estate,\nhe must have been the Head of that very Party he now acted against,\nbeing the same for whose Cause two of his greatest Ancestors at least\nhad both ventured and lost their Lives, but Grace not going by\nGeneration, nor Vertue by Inheritance any more in that Country than in\nours. He neither own'd their Cause or imitated their Vertue, but gave\nhimself up first to all Manner of Vice, and then with his Morals\nabandoned his Principles, flew in the Face of his Grandfathers injured\n_Grave_, join'd with his Murtherers, and the abhorr'd Betrayers of his\nCountry, and plac'd himself at the Head of that very Party who had\ntrampled on the Blood of his Family as well as Nation. He was in Temper\nbrave but rash, had more Courage than Generosity, more Passion than\nPrudence, and more Regard to his Resentment than to his Honour; he was\nproud without Merit, ambitious without Prospect, revengeful without\nInjury; he would resent without Affront, and quarrel without Cause,\nwould embroil himself without Reason, and come out of it without\nHonour: His Courage was rather in his Blood than in his Head, and as\nhis Actions run often before his Thoughts, so his Thoughts often run\nbefore his Reason; yet he was pushing and that supply'd very much his\nWant of Policy; but he discover'd the Errors of his Judgment by the\nWarmth of his Behaviour in every thing he did he sought no Disguise,\nevery Man knew him better than himself, and he never could be in a Plot\nbecause he conceal'd nothing.\nHe was a General in the Armys of _Atalantis Major_ and excepting the\nchief Command of an Army, was very well fitted for the Field: He had\nbehav'd himself very well on several Occasions against the\n_Tartarians_, and unless his ill Fate should place him above being\ncommanded, he might in time be a great Man; at present, having all the\nFire of a General without the Flegm, his great Misfortune and the only\nThing that can ruin him is, That he thinks himself qualifyed to\nCommand, and cannot bear the Lustre of their Merit that excel him.\n5. The E. of _Marereskine_: This was a Nobleman whose Character is not\nso easy to describe; he appear'd in the Service of the Queen of the\nIsland, but was suspected to lean to the _Tartars_, whose Interest he\nwas known formerly to espouse; He was proud, peevish, subtle and\ndiligent, affected more the Statesman than the Soldier, and therefore\naim'd at the Place the Duke _de Sanquharius_ enjoy'd of Secretary of\nState, but had not yet had his Ambition gratifyed.\nYou are to note also that the Queen of the Island had for several Years\ncommitted the Administration of her Affairs to two extraordinary\nPersons, Natives of the South Parts of the Island. The Prince _de\nHeymuthius_ and the E. of _Dolphinus_, their Characters may be confin'd\nto this: In short, the first commanded all the Armies of _Atalantis\nMajor_, and was Captain General and Commander in Chief; the other, High\nKeeper of the Treasury of the Island, the greatest General and the\ngreatest Minister of State the Island ever knew, who had raised the\nGlory of their Mistress, and the Honour of their Country, to the\ngreatest Pitch the Age has ever seen; whose Merit I can no more\ndescribe than the Nation can requite.\nTho' these Characters seem to take up too much room in this Tract, yet\nit could not be avoided, it being impossible to let you into a true\nNotion of the Farce that was acted afterwards if the Actors had not\nbeen thus described.\n_Greeniccio_ was a Peer of the whole Island, and therefore had no Vote\nin the Northern Election, being one of the Hereditary Council\naforesaid; but taking upon him the absolute Direction of the Affair,\ntho' he had really, as above, nothing to do with it, he rendred himself\nat the City Reeky, the Capital of that Part of the Kingdom a few Days\nbefore the Election.\n_Marereskine_, who had really a Voice in the Election, was there before\nhim, and had busily embark'd _Bellcampo_, Lord of the Isles, and\nBrother to _Greeniccio_, to make Parties, and prepare Parties,\nsollicite Votes, get Proxies, and the like, about the Countries.\nThis _Bellcampo_, Lord of the Isles, was an insinuating self-interested\nMan, had little Fortune of his own, but resolved to raise himself which\nside soever got upmost: He run with every Stream, kept fair with every\nSide, spoke smoothly to all, meant Service to none, his dear Self\nexcepted. By this means he got up from one Step to another to some good\nEmployments, which his Interest and Diligence procured for him rather\nthan his Sincerity; for he was first made a Peer on the Side he now\nacted against, and now a Judge acting against the Side made him a Peer,\nand the like.\nThese were the Instruments of the Fate of North _Atalantis_;\n_Marereskine_ acted one Part, _Greeniccio_ another: And here it is, as\nI said before, that the differing Parties, appeared so like our _Whig_\nand _Tory_, _Episcopal_ and _Presbyterian_, that I cannot better\ndescribe them to you than by the same Names, only with this Difference,\nThat all the _Tories_ and _Episcopal_ People in North _Atalantis_ were\n_Tartarians_ profestly, and boldly owned themselves for the _Tartarian_\nEmperor.\nAnd now the two last mentioned Engines, having acted covertly for some\ntime, which they had the better opportunity to do, because they had\nboth appeared among the other Party, _which now I'll call Whigs_;\nbefore, the first of these carried it stiff and forward when he talked\nwith the great Officers, or such Lords as had some Dependance upon the\nCourt: He told them of what the Queen expected from them, what was\ntheir Duty to do, that they would find it their Interest to do so and\nso, that they might consider in Time what they had to do, and the like:\nWhen he talk'd with any of the _Whig_ Lords, for there was a Squadron\nof them left, that had a great sway yet in the Country, then he would\ntalk of him, and Party and Queen, as one Knot, in the plural Number,\nmost haughtily, thus: We are resolved to do so and so, and we must have\nnone but such or such.\nThe _Lord of the Isles_, at the same time acted his usual Flattery on\nboth Sides, insinuating to the _Whigs_, that they were in No Danger;\nthat there was not the least Design against them or their Liberties;\nthat the Queen was resolved to change Hands, but would not change\nPrinciples; that their Church should not be touched, that their\nPriviledges should not in the least be infringed, and that they need\nnot fear. One time, this Politick Peer, as he would be thought, was\nvery handsomely met with, the Story is this, whether designedly or no\nit matters not. He was one Day in Company with some of the North\n_Atalantis_ Ministers, for there just as here, they have one Church\nestablished in the North, and another in the South of the Island; He\nused all his Art in persuading the Ministers that they should be easie,\nthat they should fear nothing, that there was no Design to give them\nthe least Disturbance; that this was a Politick Turn, not a Religious,\nand that they should do well to be satisfied, and to satisfie their\nPeople that they were in no Danger, and should fear nothing. One of the\nMinisters, who had heard him very patiently, but saw easily through all\nhis cunning; returns, Thus my Lord, shall I tell your Lordship a Story,\nand then he goes on with it. We had in former times, one _John_ ----\nwho had the Honour to be his Majesty's Hangman in this City. This good\nMan had a most gentle easie Way of executing his Office; for when the\npoor People came into his Hands, and were to Die by his Operations, as\nmany honest Men did in those cruel Days, (this by the way was home to\nhis Lordship, for that this very _John_ cut off his Lordships\nGrandfather's Head) all the while he was a fitting Things for the\nExecution of his Office, he would smile upon them, talk kindly to them,\nbid them not be afraid, Come, come, fear nothing, trust God, and the\nlike: Then bringing them to the foot of the Ladder, he would still say,\nBe not afraid, come, come, fear nothing, step up one step, do not fear,\ntrust in God, and so to another step and another; and just thus he\ncarried 'em on, till at last, with the very Words in his Mouth, Fear\nnothing, he turn'd them off.\nThe honest Minister made no Application of the Story, much less took\nNotice, how his Lordship's own Grandfather not only fell by the same\nHangman, but by the same Party that he then espoused: But he had too\nmuch Sense, and was too closely touch'd with the Story, not to make the\nApplication himself; so he left the Ministers, giving no Reply at all\nto the Story.\nThis Story grew so popular, especially being printed by the Reviewer of\nthat Country, that the Lord of the Isles could make nothing of his\nDesign whenever he talk'd of the good Design of the Party; he was only\nlaugh'd at, and bid remember his Grandfathers Hangman; so he became\nuseless.\nThe Prince _Greeniccio_ and the Earl of _Marereskine_ then took upon\nthem the Manegement of the whole Affair. They took publick Apartments\nin the Town, kept an affected State, called themselves the Queen's\nManagers, and had a Court as great as if they had been really so; they\nreceived the Visits of the Nobility with an Air of Majesty, and\naffected Gravity; and under this assumed Authority they took upon them\nto Closet the Noblemen when they came to pay their Respects to them;\nnot to ask who they would give their Votes for, or to sollicit them to\nVote for this or that, but in a Style haughty and insolent, especially\nto the Men of the greatest Character and Merit.\n_Greeniccio_ had several Ruffles with some of the Nobility, of which it\nmay not be amiss to give some Account, because it may be for the\nAdvantage of our Nobility to know, how Persons of like Quality in that\nCountry can submit to be treated.\n_Bradalbino_, a Nobleman of great Age and Authority in that Island,\nexpected to be One of the Sixteen, and was told he was in the List;\nwhen he comes to Discourse with the Prince _de Greeniccio_, he tells\nhim, Very plainly, That he thought it would be much for the Publick\nGood to put in Two or Three Lords, such as _Leslynus_, and one of the\nFamily of _Boiilio_, being Men he thought could not properly be left\nout, and that if they were in, he would come into all the rest: The\nPrince, in a kind of Passion swore, By G--d, not of them; and but for\nnaming them, laid aside _Bradalbino_ himself.\nAnother Lord being an Officer in the Army, having the Court List\nproposed to him, answered, My Lord you kno' _Leslynus_ is my General\nand Commander in Chief, and he could not as he commanded under him but\nVote for his General, _&c._ _Greeniccio_ in a fury returns, God d----n\nyour General, what do you tell us of Commander in Chief? If that be\nall, we shall soon get you another Commander in Chief; you shall Vote\nfor none such as he.\nAnother Lord expostulated with him a little to admit such and such with\nthe Men he proposed; he answers, My Lord, I am no Hypocrite, I am\nabove-board; this is the List we will have; the Q....n approves of it,\nand I will have no other; and swearing again, By-G--d, says he, 'Tis\nindifferent to me, keep out but the Men we are against; but I will have\nno _Go....phin_ Men, no _Ma....bro'_ Men, no Squadron Men, in short, no\n_Whigs_ of any Denomination; as for the rest, it is indifferent, any\nbut them. How, my Lord, says this Nobleman, What will you take\n_Tartarians_, (that is, as our _Jacobites_) rather than the honest\nGentlemen that have been so true to the _Atalantic_ Interest: I care\nnot what they are, says the Prince, so they be none of these.\nAmong the Noblemen that he used with the most rudeness, was the Earl of\n_Crawlindford_: Whether he thought to Insult this faithful Nobleman,\nbecause he knew his Fortunes were low, and that he depended on the\nCourt; or whether he took this Advantage to use him Ill on Account of\nan old Ruffle, in which he having challenged the Earl to Fight; and the\nEarl appearing ready to defend his Honour with his Sword; the Prince\nashamed of the needless Quarrel, had declin'd it again, and came off\nbut, so, so; choosing to risk his Honour rather than his Life; what was\nthe Reason, Authors do not agree about; But the Prince used him most\nscandalously. The Earl prest him hard, and told him, How he had on all\nOccasions shewn himself faithful to the Queen, and to the _Atalantic_\nInterest, that he had gone into all such Measures as were for the\nService of both, that he thought he had some Claim to be trusted in the\nService of his Country.\nThe Prince told him plainly, He might set his Heart at rest, for he\nshould not be one. He ask'd him, What Reason was assigned, what\nObjections were against him. The Prince, with much more Plainness than\nPrudence replies, They knew he was under Obligations to the President\nof the Treasure, and the great Commander of the Army; and he did not\nknow but they might come to bring a Charge or Impeachment against them\nin the great _Atalantic_ Council; and he would have no Body chosen but\nsuch as would give their Words they would come into such Measures. The\nEarl told him, If any thing could be offered to prove them Guilty, or\nany Crimes were made appear, he scorned to be so much obliged to any\nMan as not to dare to do Justice; and that he would readily join in an\nImpeachment, if there was Reason sufficient to Charge them; and to\nrefuse him otherwise, implied, they wanted Crime and just Ground to\nform the Impeachment upon, and therefore must choose such a Set of Men\nas would Impeach innocent Men blindfold, to please a Party. The Prince\ntold him, That the Resolution was to Impeach them, and he would have\nnone chosen that would not agree to it. What, right or wrong, my Lord!\nsays the Earl; to which the Prince, not suddenly replying, the Earl\nwent on, Let what will come of it, and tho' I should lose all, nay,\ntho' I were to beg my Bread, I'll never submit to such base Terms, and\nso defied him. The Prince told him, It should be the worse for him; and\nthere they parted.\nThere was a short Dispute between the Prince and the Earl of\n_Stairdale_; but the Earl had so much more Honesty than the Party, and\nso much more Sense and Wit than the Prince, that indeed he cared not\nmuch to talk to him, but left him to _Mareskine_. He was too hard for\nthem both, and having baffled them in Discourse, he was no more to be\nBullied by them, than he was to be Wheedled; he told 'em plainly, They\nwere betraying their Country, selling and sacrificing the Priviledges\nof the Nobility, making themselves Tools to a Party, and giving\nthemselves up in a base Manner to the Pleasure of a few Men, who, when\nthey had got their Will would contemn them, would love the Folly, but\nP....s upon the Fools; and as to their List, he scorn'd to come into\nit, or into any of their menacing Measures. This put a short end to\ntheir Attempts upon him; and indeed, had the other Lords been advised\nby this gallant Gentleman, they had broke all their Schemes; but they\nwere not all united in their Resolutions, or equally determined in\ntheir Measures.\nThus they went on, _Mareskine_ mannag'd the most mildly; yet he told\nthe Nobility of his Acquaintance: That the List was determined, that\nthe Q....n expected they should Vote them all: that they would have no\nMixtures: that her Majesty would have nothing to do with the _Whig_\nLords, but there was other Work to do now than usual: Discoursing with\nsome of the Lords, who were G----als in the Army, he told them plainly,\nThey had resolved to Impeach the great Commander; and that it could not\nbe expected, those who had Commands under him, and were Awed by him,\nshould do Justice in that Case. They had often the Question put to\nthem, What it was the great Commander, or the Keeper of the Treasure,\nhad done, that they were to be Impeach'd for: But they could never be\nbrought to offer the least tollerable Reason, except that the Prince\n_Greeniccio_ let fall in his Passion sometimes, of which he had no\nmanner of Government, That he had used him ill abroad.\nSome, who had more nicely enquired into the Particulars of the ill\nUsage which was the Cause of this Resentment, have given the oddest\ncontradicting Accounts of it that any History can Parallel: As first,\nThat the great Commander had restrained the rashness of this young\nHotspur General, who being but a Boy in Experience, compared to the\nCommander, was always for pushing into the Heart of _Tartary_ with the\nArmy; not considering, That to run up a Hundred Mile into the Country,\nand leave the Enemies Towns untaken, and their Armies in a Condition to\nRecruit, cut off their Convoys and Communication, and make their\nSubsistence impracticable, was the ready way to destroy them, as has\nbeen seen by a woful Example in _Spain_. But the General was wiser, and\nregarded more the Safety of the Army, and the Honour of his Mistress;\nand therefore, by the unanimous Approbation of all the allied Generals,\n(for it was not his own single Opinion) and according to the just Rules\nof War, went on gradually to take their fortified Towns, and ruin their\nDefences on the Frontiers, that at last, he might have a sure and easie\nConquest of the rest: This was one Pretence. The second was just the\nReverse of this: For at a great Battle with the _Tartarians_, the\nCommander having resolved to attack the Enemy in their advantageous\nCamp, and having drawn up in Battalia his whole Army, he gives the Post\nof Honour to the Prince, appointing him, with a select Body of the best\nTroops in the Army, to fall on upon the Right, and Charge the Enemy,\nwhile other Generals did the like, and with equal Hazard and more real\nDanger, on the Left. There was not a Gentleman in the Enemies Army but\nwould have taken this as the greatest Testimony of his General's\nEsteem, and would have thought any Man in the Army his mortal Enemy\nthat should have gone about to have deprived him of it. Nor was there\nany Man in the _Attalantick_ Army, who did not take it as an Evidence\nof the great Opinion the Commander had of the Prince's Courage; and all\nthe World talked of it as the greatest Honour could possibly be done\nthe Prince.\nHad not the Commander taken all needful Care to have him well back'd,\nhad he not given him the best Troops in the Army to act under him, had\nhe not plac'd a great Body of Horse to support him, had he not equally\nprest the Enemy in other Places, to prevent their doubling their\nStrength in that Part; had he done any Thing but what a Man of Honour\nwould have thought himself obliged by, there might have been some\nReason to Object: But to call giving a General a Post of Honour\nsacrificing him, because it was attended with Danger, is referr'd to\nthe Determination of the Soldierly Part of Mankind. And as it would be\nlaught at in _Tartary_, in _France_, and in _Britain_, where such\nThings are very seldom heard of; so I can assure the Reader, it was\nsufficiently laugh'd at in _Attalantis Major_, and the Prince of\n_Greeniccio_ is become most intollerably ridiculous by the taking\nNotice of it.\nHence all Men in the Island of _Atalantick Major_ conclude, he has\nRashness without Courage, Fury without Honour, Passion without\nJudgment, and less regard to his Character than to his Resentment.\nNor has the Vanity of this Prince appeared less in his not sticking\nopenly to discover, That he aims at the Command in general; that he\nthinks himself equally qualified for a Post of so great Trust, and that\nregard is not had to his Merit that he is so long suffered to Serve\nunder another; at the same time not enquiring, whether the Allies of\nthe Queen would have equal Confidence in him, as in the great\nCommander, on whose Judgment, all the Princes and States of the North\nhave so much Dependance, to whom they have so chearfully committed\ntheir Troops, and under whose Conduct they have had such wonderful\nSuccess against the _Tartarian_ Emperor: But it never was this Prince's\nTalent to think too much, his Heat was always too volatile, and his\nHead too light for his Hands.\nWe have brought him now to the Conclusion of the Affair: Having gone\nthrough his Catechizing of the Nobility, in which indeed they of his\nown Party appeared of a Temper patient and debased, below the true\nSpirit of Noblemen; (at least, God be praised, below the ancient Temper\nand Gallantry of the Nobility of _Great Britain_) Having come now to\nthe Day for the Choice, which was the 10th Day of their Sixth Month,\nbut as I suppose _November_: There appeared at the Place 33 Noblemen,\nbesides the 16 which were chosen, and who every one Voted for\nthemselves and for one another; so that of about 130 Noblemen, which\nthey say are in the North Part of _Attalantis Major_, only 49 appeared.\nThere was a great Meeting of the honest Part of the Nobility, at\nanother Place, to consult what was proper to be done in this\nnew-fashion'd Way of Proceeding: Some proposed to go down in a Body to\nthe Place where the rest were met, and protest against the Illegality\nof the Choice; that to impose a List upon the Nobility was not\nagreeable to the Nature of a free Choice; and that therefore they\nshould protest, That whoever were returned by Virtue of that Meeting,\nwere not legally Chosen, and had no right to Sit in the great Council\nof the Nobility.\nThis was sound Advice: But unhappily it was not resolved upon; and some\nthey say slipt out of the Meeting for fear of Resentment, and went down\nand voted, and came up again _incognito_.\nThe rest resolved to send Two of their Number down to the Meeting, and\noffer their Service to Vote with them, provided they would declare\ntheir Measures: and that those that might be chosen would declare\nthemselves for the true _Atalantick_ Succession, against a pretending\nClaimant, who was then sheltred among the _Tartarians_: But they could\nreceive no Satisfaction even to this so reasonable Request. But the\nPrince of _Greeniccio_, who had no right to Vote himself, yet run up\nand down, as a Broker, or a Party-Sollicitor, whispering and prompting,\nfrom one to another, to Influence and Settle them, (for some began to\nwaver.) This Prince, I say, giving an answer, insolent and haughty,\n_like himself_. The Noble Persons that went, came away, and contented\nthemselves, with telling them, they would having nothing to do with\nthem. Thus, being but a Rump of the Nobility, they gave up their\nLiberties, Voted as they were commanded to do, signed a Roll of Names,\nand this they called a Choice.\nThe Number of the dissenting Nobility were about Twenty six, whereof\nFive did at last comply with their List, as they thought, being in\npublick Commands, supposing it might give a Handle to their Enemies, to\nmisrepresent them to their Soveraign; but they nevertheless, upon all\nOccasions, testified their Dislike and Abhorrence of the Method, and of\nthe Conduct of those concern'd in it.\nAmong those said Dissenters, were Two Dukes, One Marquis, Sixteen\nEarls, and Six Lords, besides many others, who were Absent.\nWe might be large in describing, and giving Characters of these\ndissenting Nobility. Among them we could not escape the Prince _de\nRosymonte_, a Person, for Blood and Birth, eminent in that Country,\nmore for his own excellent and inimitable Virtues, Grave, Sober,\nJudicious, even from his Youth, of whom one of the _Atalantick_ Poets\ngave this bright Character.\n    _Grave without Age, without Experience wise._\nHe was President of the Royal Council of that Country even while he was\nvery young, an Honour the greatest of the Nobility were well pleased to\nsee him adorned with, and made no Scruple to sit below him: His\ndistinguish'd Modesty and Humility in all his publick Appearances,\nrecommends him to the Affections of the whole Country; and tho' the\nFortunes of his Family have suffered by the Disasters of the Times, yet\nhe supports a handsome Figure suitable to the Dignity of his Character,\nRich without Gaiety, Great without Affectation, Plentiful without\nProfusion, letting the World see he knows how and when, and to what\nPitch to appear that when he pleases to be at Large, he can do it like\na wise Man, or Retrench, he can do it like a Prince. It might be said,\nas a finishing stroke to his Character, he is just the Reverse of\n_Greeniccio_, for he is Fire without Thunder, Brave without Fury, Great\nwithout Pride, Gay without Vanity, Wise without Affectation, knows how\nto Obey and how to Command; he knows great Things enough to manage\nthem, and is so Master of himself, as not to let them manage him; he\nknows how to be a Courtier without Ambition, and to Merit Favour rather\nthan to seek it; he scorns to push his Fortunes over the Belly of his\nPrinciples, ever Faithful to himself, and by consequence to all that\nTrust him; he has too great a Value for Merit to envy it even in his\nEnemy, and too low Thoughts of the Pride and Conceit of Men without\nMerit, to approve of it even in his Friends.\nThis Noble Person appears at the Head of the dissenting Nobility: Nor\ndoes it lessen his Zeal for the Principles of Liberty, or the present\nEstablishment of Religion in his Country; that some of his Ancestors,\notherwise Noble, Brave and Great, appear'd on the other side; since the\nLiberties of his Country are the Center of his Actions, and the\nProsperity of all Men the mark he aims at.\nIt may be a Character to the rest of the dissenting Lords, to say of\nthem in general, That they were such as took a particular Pleasure in\nbeing Patrons of Virtue as well as Patrons of Liberty: That they were\nMen generally speaking distinguish'd for their constant Loyalty to\ntheir Prince, but ever with a view to the Fundamental Laws: That they\nhad always Wisdom enough to know their Countries Rights, and Courage\nenough to defend them; Men of Honour, Men of Prudence, Men of\nResolution: In short, They were Men admirably suited to the Character\nof their Leader; as he on the other hand, thought it his Honour to be\nat the Head of so illustrious a Body of Men, equally valuable for their\nVirtue, Capacities, Wisdom and Integrity.\nIt cannot be forgotten; That as these Noble Persons were Zealous for\nthe Liberties of their Country, so truly they were Men that had the\ngreatest Interest in it, having separately considered the best Estates\nof the whole Nobility, of that Country and joined together, were able\nto Buy twice their Number in the whole Assembly. It is true, that\nEstate is not any just Addition to the Character of a Person; but it\nwill for ever remain a Truth; And all Nations will shew a regard to it,\n_viz._ that those may be supposed to be the most proper Persons to be\ntrusted with the Conservation of the Liberties of their Country, who\nhave by their Birth and Inheritance the largest Shares in the\nPossession of it.\nThis is illustrated by the Practice of that happy Country we live in,\nwhere this Story may perhaps be read, and where very lately, a Law has\nbeen made, to unquallifie all such to represent their Country in the\nLegislation and Power of raising Taxes, who are not possessed of such\nor such a Porportion in the Lands of their Country, as may suppose them\nPersons made naturally anxious for the Welfare of the whole, in regard\nto the Preservation of their Property. Unhappy _Atalantis_! Had such a\nLaw pass'd for the Qualification of those Noblemen, who should be\nelected to the great Royal Council of thy Country; and should the\nNobility so to be chosen have been limited to but one hundred\n_Perialo's_ (a Gold Coin in that Country amounting by Estimation to\nabout 2000 _l._ a Year Sterling) of yearly Estate in Lands, how few of\nthe Sixteen now chosen could have shewn themselves in that august\nMeeting.\nOn the contrary, several of those now sent up, were not able to put\nthemselves into a Posture to undertake the Journey, till they had sold\nthe Magazines of Corn which they had laid up for the Year's Subsistance\nof their Families, or mortgaged their small Estates to borrow Money for\nthe Expence.\nNor is it doubted in the least, but when those poor Noblemen come to\nfind some of their _Tartarian_ Expectations frustrated, with which it\nis manifest they were very Big when they went up; they will sorely\nregret the Misfortune of their Election; since they must be thereby so\nreduced, as almost to want Subsistance for their Families; and as for\nthe Debts contracted, it is impossible some of them should ever Pay\nthem.\nIt has been a too unhappy Truth in other Places as well as in\n_Atalantis Major_, That in such popular Elections, whether of Noblemen\nor others, Men are deluded with the Notion, that to be chosen by their\nCountry to these great Councils of the Nation, must so recommend them,\nor make them so necessary to the State, to the Government, or the\nMinisters of State, that they cannot fail to make their Fortunes and\nraise Estates by their very Appearance: But this is so constantly found\nto fail, and so many have been almost ruin'd by the Expences they have\nbeen at to make a Figure as they call it, and to appear at Court like\nthemselves on such Occasions, that it seems wonderful that Persons of\nQuality, who know their own Circumstances, and whose Fortunes, through\nthe Disasters of their Families, may not be equal to their Dignity,\nshould on so vain a Presumption push themselves upon the necessity of\ncompleating their own Ruin, beggering their Families, and leaving their\nPosterity an Estate in Titles and Coronets, Things without the Support\nof competent Estates the most despicable in the World.\nIt might be very useful to our Readers, and perhaps something\ninstructing might be gathered from it, with respect to the Affairs of\n_Europe_ at this Time, to give some Account here of the Success of\nthese strange Proceedings; what Figure these People made, when they\ncame to Court, how they behav'd themselves when they came into the\ngreat Council, how they were made Tools there to the Politicians of\nthose Times, even to act against their Interest, their Country, their\nown Designs.\nIn doing this, it would appear, How some of the Sixteen, more\nparticularly known to be in the _Tartarian_ Interest, and who had all\nalong declared themselves for the Person and Title of the pretending\nPrince, who, as is noted before, put in a Claim to the Succession of\nthe Throne: How these, I say, went up to the great Council, wheedled by\nthe Subtilties of _Greeniccio_, and his Agents, to believe seriously\nthat they went up directly to declare his Title; that they should be\nthe Men that should have the Honour to declare his Right in the great\nCouncil of the Nobility; and that he should for the future own his\nRestoration, his Glory, and his Crown, to their Loyalty and steddy\nacting for him. This, they did not doubt, should tend not to their\nHonour only, but to the raising their decay'd Fortunes, for they were\nmiserably Poor; since he could do no less than confer the greatest\nTrusts upon Persons who had with so much Fidelity acted for his Glory\nand Interest.\nIt would also to the eternal Shame and Disappointment of the _Atalantic\nJacobites_, (if I may so call them) necessarily follow, that the\nHistory of their Conduct should come in at the same time to be\nconsidered, _viz._ How just the contrary to all this, and against the\nvery Nature of the Thing they were obliged, even among the very first\nof their Transactings in their Publick Station, as Members of the great\nCouncil aforesaid, to appear in a Publick Address to the Soveraign of\nthe Country, in which they were brought in recognizing Her just Title\nto Reign, (which they in their Hearts abhorr'd) promising to Stand by\nand Defend that Title with all their Might, (which they had hoped to\nsee overthrown) engaging to assist Her to the utmost, against that very\npretending Claimant as above, (who they Reverence as their lawful\nPrince) and to carry on the War with Vigour against the _Tartarian_\nEmperor (that very Prince on whose Power they depended for the carrying\non their Designs).\nHad any _British_-Man of Sense, that understands the Language of the\nCountenance, but seen the Astonishment, the Chagrin, the Vexation and\nAnguish of Soul, that appear'd on the Faces of these _Atalantic_\nNoblemen, at this surprizing Event; how they gnashed their Teeth for\nAnger, and curst the Hour that ever they were Members of this grand\nCouncil; how they Bann'd, (an _Atalantis_ Word used there, for what we\ncall Swearing and Damning in our Country;) how they raged at\n_Greenwiccio_, and the _Lord of the Isles_, who they said had Betray'd\nthem; and how strangely they look'd, upon the solemn Occasion of\npresenting this Address to their Soveraign: I say, could their\nCountenances but have been read by any in our Country, they would have\ntaken them for Furies rather than Men, or for Men under some Frenzy,\nridden with the Night-Mare, or scared with some Apparition.\nIt was not less odd, to see the Conduct of _Greeniccio_; for tho' he\nhad not less Mischief in his Heart, yet it was of another Kind; and\ntho' he had not the same View of the Succession, nor perhaps was\ndirectly in the _Tartarian_ Interest, and therefore shew'd no Pity,\nor Sympathy with the Mortifications of the other, yet he met with\nDisappointments equally perplexing, and which made him heartily repent\nthe length he had gone; but as it was in his Nature to be rash, it was\nimpossible to prevent his being disappointed almost in every Thing he\nwent about: For it is in _Atalantis Major_ just as it is in other Parts\nof the World, _viz._ That rash headstrong unthinking Tempers, generally\nprecipitate themselves into innumerable Mischiefs, which Prudence and\nPatience would evite and prevent; and also, that these furious rash\nPeople, as they are hot and impatient under those Mischiefs when they\nare surprised with them, so they are not always the best able to\nextricate and deliver themselves.\nThis will necessarily lead us to a long History of the Disappointments\nhe met with:\n1. In his Project of charging and impeaching his General, and the great\nTestador, or ---- of the Nations Treasure, which he could never, either\nbring Crime enough to justifie, or Friends enough to joyn in, and make\nit terrible.\n2. How he was disappointed in his ambitious Views of being made General\nagainst the _Tartarians_; whereas, he had on the contrary, the\nMortification, to see the great Commander continu'd, with an addition\nof Generallissimo to his Titles of Command; and himself, like what we\nused to call in _England_, being _Kick'd up Stairs_, sent out of the\nWay with a Feather in his Cap, and the Title of General, to carry on a\nremote Unfortunate, and never-to-be Successful War in _Japan_, and the\nLord knows where, among Barbarians and Savages.\nThis was not all; When upon his embracing this Title, which his Temper\n(naturally Ambitious) jumpt at, and eagerly closed with, he began to\nchoose Officers, name Regiments, and draw out Forces to form the Army\nhe was to Command, he found the new Generalissimo had supplanted him\nthere too; for he had not only prevailed with the Queen of the Country,\nnot to draw away any of the old Troops then establish'd for the\n_Tartarian_ War, of which this _Gew-Gaw-General_ fancied to himself he\nshould form his Army: But the Generalissimo obtain'd, That the best\nTroops which were remaining in _Atalantis Major_, should be sent over\nto strengthen the Army against the _Tartars_: So that this new General\nwas likely to go away to _Japan_ without any Army, but such Troops as\nher _Atalantic_ Majesty and Her Allies had hired from the _Emperor of\nChina_, and such other People; and he had none but Strangers,\nBarbarians and Mercenaries to Command.\nIt is true, That his Design of drawing off the Troops from the\n_Tartarian_ War, to carry on a _Wild-Goose War_ in the remotest Parts\nof _Japan_, was like the rest of his Schemes, so inconsistent, so\ndestructive to the general Design of the War, and would in all its\nprobable Circumstances be so dangerous to the true Interest of\n_Atalantis Major_, That notwithstanding some had persuaded the\nGovernment to a _New Scheme_, and that the War was to be pushed on\n_ESPECIALLY_ in _Japan_ (a Thing which perhaps some encouraged at\nfirst, on purpose to draw him in to accept of that Command, which many\nof inferiour Rank to him had declin'd) yet when they came to look\nnearer into the Thing, and to see the fatal Prospect of weakning the\nForces on the _Tartarian_ side, while the _Emperor of Tartary_ at the\nsame Time was vigilant and forward in encreasing his Preparations, they\nsoon found the Representations of the Generalissimo had such Weight in\nthem, and were founded so much upon their general Good, that they\nthought fit to alter their Measures.\nHow _Greeniccio_ was thus disappointed; how he resented it; how to\nPacifie him, an Appearance of drawing some Troops together was made;\nhow he was at last sent away with a whole Ship load of fine Promises;\nas he on the contrary loaded the same Ship back with a full Freight of\nSchemes, Projects and Rhodomontadoes; how he went; what he did, and\nwhat he did not; how _Tinker_ like, he mended the Work of those that\nwent before, and left it for others to mend after him; these are Things\nI may give you a farther Account of when I return from my next Progress\nto that glorious Country of _Atalantis Major_.\n_FINIS._", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Atalantis Major\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " French\n", "content": "Produced by Claudine Corbasson, Christian Boissonnas and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\ngenerously made available by the Biblioth\u00e8que nationale\n  Au lecteur.\n  Les erreurs clairement introduites par le typographe ont \u00e9t\u00e9\n  corrig\u00e9es. L'orthographe et la ponctuation d'origine ont \u00e9t\u00e9\n  conserv\u00e9es et n'ont pas \u00e9t\u00e9 harmonis\u00e9es. Cependant quelques\n  erreurs typographiques ont \u00e9t\u00e9 corrig\u00e9es. La liste de ces\n  corrections se trouve \u00e0 la fin du texte.\n  Les mots en italiques sont _soulign\u00e9s_. Le symbole ^ est suivi par un\n  caract\u00e8re en exposant.\n  AVENTURES SURPRENANTES\n  DE\n  ROBINSON CRUSO\u00c9\n[Illustration: FRONTISPICE\nC\u2019\u00e9tait v\u00e9ritablement une chasse pour nous.]\n                        AVENTURES SURPRENANTES\n                         TRADUCTION COMPL\u00c8TE\n               ILLUSTR\u00c9E DE 120 GRAVURES D\u2019APR\u00c8S PAGET\n                         LIBRAIRIE ILLUSTR\u00c9E\nAU LECTEUR\nA notre \u00e9poque, en France, le lecteur veut absolument, et il a bien\nraison, juger par lui-m\u00eame, avec sa propre intelligence, et pi\u00e8ces\ncompl\u00e8tes sous les yeux, de la valeur des Livres c\u00e9l\u00e8bres des autres\nnations.\nIl n\u2019admet plus, sous aucun pr\u00e9texte, qu\u2019un traducteur, s\u2019\u00e9rigeant\nen Mentor, en guide infaillible du go\u00fbt public, ampute et souvent\nd\u00e9capite, \u00e0 sa fantaisie, selon des id\u00e9es personnelles, les\nchefs-d\u2019\u0153uvre des litt\u00e9ratures \u00e9trang\u00e8res, comme on le faisait aux\nsi\u00e8cles pass\u00e9s.\nIl les exige fid\u00e8lement traduits, en bonne langue claire et nette,\nmais litt\u00e9ralement, d\u2019un bout \u00e0 l\u2019autre, et proteste avec \u00e9nergie\ncontre toute esp\u00e8ce \u00abd\u2019arrangement\u00bb pr\u00e9tendu \u00e9l\u00e9gant, contre toute\ntentative \u00abd\u2019embellissement\u00bb et surtout contre toute mutilation du\ntexte original.\nIl veut enfin l\u2019\u0153uvre enti\u00e8re avec tout ce que Voltaire, par exemple,\nquelque grand qu\u2019il f\u00fbt, avait le tort d\u2019appeler \u00abla barbarie d\u2019un\nsauvage ivre\u00bb, et de supprimer dans Shakspeare,\u2014dont il s\u2019inspirait,\ndu reste.\nLe lecteur moderne ne veut pas une _version_ habile, il veut une\nsimple et droite traduction, et voil\u00e0 tout. Il se charge, apr\u00e8s\nlecture, du verdict d\u00e9finitif, et ne veut pas qu\u2019on le lui dicte.\nC\u2019est pour r\u00e9pondre \u00e0 ce l\u00e9gitime d\u00e9sir du lecteur fran\u00e7ais\ncontemporain, qu\u2019a lieu la publication, _in extenso_, de la _loyale_\net _compl\u00e8te_ traduction de _Robinson Cruso\u00e9_ due \u00e0 P\u00e9trus Borel,\ntraduction, unique en France, de cet ouvrage admirable, excellent\net profitable \u00e0 lire \u00e0 tout \u00e2ge, mais dont on est arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 faire,\nd\u2019arrangement en arrangement, de mutilations en mutilations, sans\nprendre l\u2019avis de personne, un ouvrage destin\u00e9 uniquement aux tout\npetits enfants.\nOr, tels n\u2019\u00e9taient pas la pens\u00e9e et le but de son auteur Daniel de\nFo\u00eb, en \u00e9crivant, voil\u00e0 pr\u00e8s de deux cents ans, celui de ses ouvrages\nqui a rendu son nom immortel.\nTelle n\u2019a jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 non plus, en Angleterre, l\u2019opinion des ma\u00eetres\n\u00e9crivains sur la haute port\u00e9e morale du _Robinson_, ce livre magique\navec lequel, quand on le lit petit, on r\u00eave d\u2019\u00eatre brave, grand\net seul, et avec lequel aussi, quand on le relit grand, on r\u00eave\navec d\u00e9lices qu\u2019on est encore petit et entour\u00e9 de la ch\u00e8re famille\ndispers\u00e9e, disparue...\nPour la foule, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 pr\u00e9sent, qui n\u2019a lu que les traductions de\njadis, audacieusement tronqu\u00e9es, r\u00e9duites \u00e0 une s\u00e9rie d\u2019\u00e9pisodes,\nRobinson, ce n\u2019est gu\u00e8re qu\u2019un homme \u00e0 bonnet de poil de ch\u00e8vre, avec\nun parasol et un perroquet, qui vit dans une \u00eele, longtemps seul, et\nacquiert enfin la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 d\u2019un ami v\u00e9ritable, Vendredi le n\u00e8gre.\nMais, comme le disait et l\u2019\u00e9crivait l\u2019un des g\u00e9nies litt\u00e9raires de\nl\u2019Angleterre, un g\u00e9nie des plus \u00e9cout\u00e9s, m\u00eame chez, nous, Walter\nScott: Robinson \u00abest le type du v\u00e9ritable et digne citoyen du\npeuple avec sa t\u00e9nacit\u00e9, avec son gros bon sens, ses pr\u00e9jug\u00e9s, et\nsa r\u00e9solution de ne pas se laisser abattre par des maux qu\u2019on peut\nsurmonter \u00e1 force de travail\u00bb.\n\u00abLe monde, dit-il encore, est \u00e0 jamais redevable \u00e0 la m\u00e9moire de\nde Fo\u00eb d\u2019un ouvrage dans lequel les voies de la Providence sont\nd\u00e9montr\u00e9es d\u2019une fa\u00e7on si simple et si agr\u00e9able et qui donne tant de\nle\u00e7ons morales, sous le voile d\u2019une fiction des plus int\u00e9ressantes.\u00bb\nRobinson, c\u2019est aussi le fortifiant exemple de l\u2019homme en proie aux\nd\u00e9sespoirs d\u2019un complet isolement, aux prises avec les dangers et\nles \u00e2pret\u00e9s de la nature, et qui puise dans sa force d\u2019\u00e2me, dans son\nintelligence, dans son courage, les moyens de vaincre les d\u00e9faillances\ninspir\u00e9es par les angoisses de la plus lamentable existence, de\ndompter les difficult\u00e9s sans nombre de sa condition affreuse, de se\nprocurer enfin, par le travail acharn\u00e9, des aliments et un pauvre\nbien-\u00eatre que le prix dont il les paye, en sueurs et en efforts\nincessants, lui fait trouver savoureux et parfaits.\nEt tel il se montre dans son \u00eele, tel de Fo\u00eb a cru bon de le montrer\ndans ses autres voyages si curieux, et bien \u00e0 tort abr\u00e9g\u00e9s et modifi\u00e9s\npar des traducteurs infid\u00e8les.\nP\u00e9trus Borel, l\u2019auteur de la pr\u00e9sente traduction, _loyale_ et\n_compl\u00e8te_, nous le r\u00e9p\u00e9tons, appartenait \u00e0 cette \u00e9cole de 1830,\nqui avait pour les textes originaux un respect sans bornes et se\ncomplaisait \u00e0 les restituer tels qu\u2019ils furent primitivement publi\u00e9s,\net l\u2019applaudissement g\u00e9n\u00e9ral de notre \u00e9poque, o\u00f9 cette honn\u00eate et\nexcellente m\u00e9thode est maintenant suivie, aurait d\u00fb \u00eatre, de leur\ntemps, leur r\u00e9compense.\nMais, alors, les critiques ne leur furent pas \u00e9pargn\u00e9es. On pr\u00e9f\u00e9rait\nencore les versions \u00e9court\u00e9es, sans couleur et sans originalit\u00e9, o\u00f9\nle traducteur se substituait hardiment \u00e0 l\u2019auteur, sans penser qu\u2019il\npouvait le compromettre peut-\u00eatre pour jamais.\nLa belle et bonne traduction de _Robinson_, par P\u00e9trus Borel,\nexception rare, eut cependant, m\u00eame \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9poque o\u00f9 elle parut, un\nsucc\u00e8s tr\u00e8s vif, et vif \u00e0 ce point qu\u2019elle est devenue introuvable.\nLa nouvelle \u00e9dition, publi\u00e9e avec de saisissantes gravures, et tout le\nluxe moderne, donnera pleine satisfaction au public, qui veut enfin le\n_vrai Robinson_, la traduction, _in extenso_, de ce r\u00e9cit fameux rest\u00e9\n_inimitable_, bien qu\u2019il ait \u00e9t\u00e9 incroyablement imit\u00e9 depuis 1719,\nann\u00e9e de sa mise au jour.\nCHAPITRE PREMIER\n     Origine de Robinson.\u2014Temp\u00eate dans la rade de Yarmouth.\u2014Voyage en\n     Guin\u00e9e.\u2014Captivit\u00e9.\u2014\u00c9vasion.\u2014Trafic avec les n\u00e8gres.\u2014Rencontre d\u2019un\n     navire portugais.\u2014Plantation au Br\u00e9sil.\u2014Violent ouragan.\u2014Naufrage.\nEn 1632, je naquis \u00e0 York, d\u2019une bonne famille, mais qui n\u2019\u00e9tait\npoint de ce pays. Mon p\u00e8re, originaire de Br\u00eame, \u00e9tabli premi\u00e8rement\n\u00e0 Hull, apr\u00e8s avoir acquis l\u2019aisance et s\u2019\u00eatre retir\u00e9 du commerce,\n\u00e9tait venu r\u00e9sider \u00e0 York o\u00f9 il s\u2019\u00e9tait alli\u00e9, par ma m\u00e8re, \u00e0 la\nfamille Robinson, une des meilleures de la province. C\u2019est \u00e0 cette\nalliance que je devais mon double nom de ROBINSON-KREUTZNAER; mais,\naujourd\u2019hui, par une corruption de mots assez commune en Angleterre,\non nous nomme, nous nous nommons et signons Cruso\u00e9. C\u2019est ainsi que\nmes compagnons m\u2019ont toujours appel\u00e9.\nJ\u2019avais deux fr\u00e8res: l\u2019a\u00een\u00e9, lieutenant-colonel, en Flandre, d\u2019un\nr\u00e9giment d\u2019infanterie anglaise, autrefois command\u00e9 par le fameux\ncolonel Lockhart, fut tu\u00e9 \u00e0 la bataille de Dunkerque contre les\nEspagnols; que devint l\u2019autre? j\u2019ignore quelle fut sa destin\u00e9e; mon\np\u00e8re et ma m\u00e8re ne connurent pas mieux la mienne.\nTroisi\u00e8me fils de la famille, et n\u2019ayant appris aucun m\u00e9tier, ma t\u00eate\ncommen\u00e7a de bonne heure \u00e0 se remplir de pens\u00e9es vagabondes. Mon p\u00e8re,\nqui \u00e9tait un bon vieillard, m\u2019avait donn\u00e9 toute la somme de savoir\nqu\u2019en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral on peut acqu\u00e9rir par l\u2019\u00e9ducation domestique et dans\nune \u00e9cole gratuite. Il voulait me faire avocat; mais mon seul d\u00e9sir\n\u00e9tait d\u2019aller sur mer, et cette inclination m\u2019entra\u00eenait si r\u00e9solument\ncontre sa volont\u00e9 et ses ordres, et malgr\u00e9 m\u00eame toutes les pri\u00e8res et\nles sollicitations de ma m\u00e8re et de mes parents, qu\u2019il semblait qu\u2019il\ny e\u00fbt une fatalit\u00e9 dans cette propension naturelle vers un avenir de\nmis\u00e8re.\nMon p\u00e8re, homme grave et sage, me donnait de s\u00e9rieux et d\u2019excellents\nconseils contre ce qu\u2019il pr\u00e9voyait \u00eatre mon dessein. Un matin, il\nm\u2019appela dans sa chambre, o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait retenu par la goutte, et me\nr\u00e9primanda chaleureusement \u00e0 ce sujet[1]:\u2014\u00abQuelle autre raison\nas-tu, me dit-il, qu\u2019un penchant aventureux, pour abandonner la\nmaison paternelle et ta patrie, o\u00f9 tu pourrais \u00eatre pouss\u00e9, et o\u00f9\ntu as l\u2019assurance de faire ta fortune avec de l\u2019application et de\nl\u2019industrie, et l\u2019assurance d\u2019une vie d\u2019aisance et de plaisir? Il\nn\u2019y a que les hommes dans l\u2019adversit\u00e9 ou les ambitieux qui s\u2019en\nvont chercher aventure dans les pays \u00e9trangers, pour s\u2019\u00e9lever par\nentreprise et se rendre fameux par des actes en dehors de la voie\ncommune. Ces choses sont de beaucoup trop au-dessus ou trop au-dessous\nde toi; ton \u00e9tat est le m\u00e9diocre, ou ce qui peut \u00eatre appel\u00e9 la\npremi\u00e8re condition du bas \u00e9tage; une longue exp\u00e9rience me l\u2019a fait\nreconna\u00eetre comme le meilleur dans le monde et le plus convenable\nau bonheur. Il n\u2019est en proie ni aux mis\u00e8res, ni aux peines, ni aux\ntravaux, ni aux souffrances des artisans: il n\u2019est point troubl\u00e9\npar l\u2019orgueil, le luxe, l\u2019ambition et l\u2019envie des hautes classes.\nTu peux juger du bonheur de cet \u00e9tat; c\u2019est celui de la vie que les\nautres hommes jalousent; les rois, souvent, ont g\u00e9mi des cruelles\ncons\u00e9quences d\u2019\u00eatre n\u00e9s pour les grandeurs, et ont souhait\u00e9 d\u2019\u00eatre\nplac\u00e9s entre les deux extr\u00eames, entre les grands et les petits; enfin\nle sage l\u2019a proclam\u00e9 le juste point de la vraie f\u00e9licit\u00e9 en implorant\nle ciel de le pr\u00e9server de la pauvret\u00e9 et de la richesse.\n\u00abRemarque bien ceci, et tu le v\u00e9rifieras toujours: les calamit\u00e9s de\nla vie sont le partage de la plus haute et de la plus basse classe du\ngenre humain; la condition moyenne \u00e9prouve le moins de d\u00e9sastres, et\nn\u2019est point expos\u00e9e \u00e0 autant de vicissitudes que le haut et le bas de\nla soci\u00e9t\u00e9; elle est m\u00eame sujette \u00e0 moins de maladies et de troubles\nde corps et d\u2019esprit que les deux autres, qui, par leurs d\u00e9bauches,\nleurs vices et leurs exc\u00e8s, ou par un trop rude travail, le manque\ndu n\u00e9cessaire, une insuffisante nourriture et la faim, attirent sur\neux des mis\u00e8res et des maux, naturelle cons\u00e9quence de leur mani\u00e8re\nde vivre. La condition moyenne s\u2019accommode le mieux de toutes les\nvertus et de toutes les jouissances: la paix et l\u2019abondance sont les\ncompagnes d\u2019une fortune m\u00e9diocre. La temp\u00e9rance, la mod\u00e9ration, la\ntranquillit\u00e9, la sant\u00e9, la soci\u00e9t\u00e9, tous les agr\u00e9ables divertissements\net tous les plaisirs d\u00e9sirables sont les b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions r\u00e9serv\u00e9es \u00e0\nce rang. Par cette voie, les hommes quittent le monde d\u2019une fa\u00e7on\ndouce, et passent doucement et uniment \u00e0 travers, sans \u00eatre accabl\u00e9s\nde travaux des mains ou de l\u2019esprit; sans \u00eatre vendus \u00e0 la vie de\nservitude pour le pain de chaque jour; sans \u00eatre harass\u00e9s par des\nperplexit\u00e9s continuelles qui troublent la paix de l\u2019\u00e2me et arrachent\nle corps au repos; sans \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les angoisses de l\u2019envie ou\nla secr\u00e8te et rongeante convoitise de l\u2019ambition; au sein d\u2019heureuses\ncirconstances, ils glissent tout mollement \u00e0 travers la soci\u00e9t\u00e9,\net go\u00fbtent sensiblement les douceurs de la vie sans les amertumes,\nayant le sentiment de leur bonheur et apprenant, par l\u2019exp\u00e9rience\njournali\u00e8re, \u00e0 le conna\u00eetre plus profond\u00e9ment.\u00bb\nEnsuite il me pria instamment, et de la mani\u00e8re la plus affectueuse,\nde ne pas faire le jeune homme:\u2014\u00abNe va pas te pr\u00e9cipiter, me\ndisait-il, au milieu des maux contre lesquels la nature et ta\nnaissance semblent t\u2019avoir pr\u00e9muni; tu n\u2019es pas dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9\nd\u2019aller chercher ton pain; je te veux du bien, je ferai tous mes\nefforts pour te placer parfaitement dans la position de la vie qu\u2019en\nce moment je te recommande. Si tu n\u2019\u00e9tais pas aise et heureux dans le\nmonde, ce serait par ta destin\u00e9e ou tout \u00e0 fait par l\u2019erreur qu\u2019il te\nfaut \u00e9viter; je n\u2019en serais en rien responsable, ayant ainsi satisfait\n\u00e0 mes devoirs en t\u2019\u00e9clairant sur des projets que je sais \u00eatre ta\nruine. En un mot, j\u2019accomplirais franchement mes bonnes promesses si\ntu voulais te fixer ici suivant mon souhait, mais je ne voudrais pas\ntremper dans tes infortunes en favorisant ton \u00e9loignement. N\u2019as-tu\npas l\u2019exemple de ton fr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9, aupr\u00e8s de qui j\u2019usai autrefois des\nm\u00eames instances pour le dissuader d\u2019aller \u00e0 la guerre des Pays-Bas,\ninstances qui ne purent l\u2019emporter sur ses jeunes d\u00e9sirs le poussant\n\u00e0 se jeter dans l\u2019arm\u00e9e, o\u00f9 il trouva la mort? Je ne cesserai jamais\nde prier pour toi, toutefois j\u2019oserais te pr\u00e9dire, si tu faisais ce\ncoup de t\u00eate, que Dieu ne te b\u00e9nirait point, et, que, dans l\u2019avenir,\nmanquant de toute assistance, tu aurais toute la latitude de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir\nsur le m\u00e9pris de mes conseils.\u00bb\nJe remarquai, vers la derni\u00e8re partie de ce discours, qui \u00e9tait\nv\u00e9ritablement proph\u00e9tique, quoique je ne suppose pas que mon p\u00e8re en\nait eu le sentiment; je remarquai, dis-je, que des larmes coulaient\nabondamment sur sa face, surtout lorsqu\u2019il me parla de la perte de\nmon fr\u00e8re, et qu\u2019il \u00e9tait si \u00e9mu, en me pr\u00e9disant que j\u2019aurais tout\nle loisir de me repentir, sans avoir personne pour m\u2019assister, qu\u2019il\ns\u2019arr\u00eata court, puis ajouta:\u2014\u00abJ\u2019ai le c\u0153ur trop plein, je ne saurais\nt\u2019en dire davantage.\u00bb\nJe fus sinc\u00e8rement touch\u00e9 de cette exhortation; au reste, pouvait-il\nen \u00eatre autrement? Je r\u00e9solus donc de ne plus penser \u00e0 aller au loin,\nmais \u00e0 m\u2019\u00e9tablir chez nous selon le d\u00e9sir de mon p\u00e8re. H\u00e9las! en peu\nde jours tout cela s\u2019\u00e9vanouit, et bref, pour pr\u00e9venir de nouvelles\nimportunit\u00e9s paternelles, quelques semaines apr\u00e8s je me d\u00e9terminai\n\u00e0 m\u2019enfuir. N\u00e9anmoins, je ne fis rien \u00e0 la h\u00e2te, comme m\u2019y poussait\nma premi\u00e8re ardeur, mais un jour que ma m\u00e8re me parut un peu plus\ngaie que de coutume, je la pris \u00e0 part et lui dis:\u2014\u00abJe suis tellement\npr\u00e9occup\u00e9 du d\u00e9sir irr\u00e9sistible de courir le monde, que je ne pourrais\nrien embrasser avec assez de r\u00e9solution pour y r\u00e9ussir; mon p\u00e8re\nferait mieux de me donner son consentement que de me placer dans la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de passer outre. Maintenant, je suis \u00e2g\u00e9 de dix-huit ans, il\nest trop tard pour que j\u2019entre apprenti dans le commerce ou clerc chez\nun procureur; si je le faisais, je suis certain de ne pouvoir achever\nmon temps, et avant mon engagement rempli, de m\u2019\u00e9vader de chez mon\nma\u00eetre pour m\u2019embarquer. Si vous vouliez bien engager mon p\u00e8re \u00e0 me\nlaisser faire un voyage lointain, et que j\u2019en revienne d\u00e9go\u00fbt\u00e9, je ne\nbougerais plus, et je vous promettrais de r\u00e9parer ce temps perdu par\nun redoublement d\u2019assiduit\u00e9.\u00bb\nCette ouverture jeta ma m\u00e8re en grande \u00e9motion:\u2014\u00abCela n\u2019est pas\nproposable, me r\u00e9pondit-elle; je me garderai bien d\u2019en parler \u00e0 ton\np\u00e8re; il conna\u00eet trop bien tes v\u00e9ritables int\u00e9r\u00eats pour donner son\nassentiment \u00e0 une chose qui te serait si funeste. Je trouve \u00e9trange\nque tu puisses encore y songer apr\u00e8s l\u2019entretien que tu as eu avec lui\net l\u2019affabilit\u00e9 et les expressions tendres dont je sais qu\u2019il a us\u00e9\nenvers toi. En un mot, si tu veux absolument aller te perdre, je n\u2019y\nvois point de rem\u00e8de; mais tu peux \u00eatre assur\u00e9 de n\u2019obtenir jamais\nnotre approbation. Pour ma part, je ne veux point mettre la main \u00e0\nl\u2019\u0153uvre de ta destruction, il ne sera jamais dit que ta m\u00e8re se soit\npr\u00eat\u00e9e \u00e0 une chose r\u00e9prouv\u00e9e par ton p\u00e8re.\u00bb\nNonobstant ce refus, comme je l\u2019appris dans la suite, elle rapporta le\ntout \u00e0 mon p\u00e8re, qui, profond\u00e9ment affect\u00e9, lui dit en soupirant:\u2014\u00abCe\ngar\u00e7on pourrait \u00eatre heureux s\u2019il voulait demeurer \u00e0 la maison; mais,\ns\u2019il va courir le monde, il sera la cr\u00e9ature la plus mis\u00e9rable qui ait\njamais \u00e9t\u00e9; je n\u2019y consentirai jamais.\u00bb\nCe ne fut environ qu\u2019un an apr\u00e8s ceci que je m\u2019\u00e9chappai, quoique\ncependant je continuasse obstin\u00e9ment \u00e0 rester sourd \u00e0 toutes\npropositions d\u2019embrasser un \u00e9tat, et quoique souvent je reprochasse\n\u00e0 mon p\u00e8re et \u00e0 ma m\u00e8re leur in\u00e9branlable opposition, quand ils\nsavaient tr\u00e8s bien que j\u2019\u00e9tais entra\u00een\u00e9 par mes inclinations. Un\njour, me trouvant \u00e0 Hull, o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais all\u00e9 par hasard et sans aucun\ndessein pr\u00e9m\u00e9dit\u00e9; \u00e9tant l\u00e0, dis-je, un de mes compagnons pr\u00eat \u00e0 se\nrendre par la mer \u00e0 Londres, sur un vaisseau de son p\u00e8re, me pressa de\npartir, avec l\u2019amorce ordinaire des marins, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire qu\u2019il ne m\u2019en\nco\u00fbterait rien pour ma travers\u00e9e. Je ne consultai plus mes parents;\nje ne leur envoyai aucun message; mais, leur laissant \u00e0 l\u2019apprendre\ncomme ils pourraient, sans demander la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu ou de mon\np\u00e8re, sans aucune consid\u00e9ration des circonstances et des cons\u00e9quences,\nmalheureusement, Dieu sait! le 1er septembre 1651, j\u2019allai \u00e0 bord du\nvaisseau charg\u00e9 pour Londres. Jamais infortunes de jeune aventurier,\nje pense, ne commenc\u00e8rent plus t\u00f4t et ne dur\u00e8rent plus longtemps que\nles miennes.\nComme le vaisseau sortait \u00e0 peine de l\u2019Humber, le vent s\u2019\u00e9leva et\nles vagues s\u2019enfl\u00e8rent effroyablement. Je n\u2019\u00e9tais jamais all\u00e9 sur\nmer auparavant; je fus, d\u2019une fa\u00e7on indicible, malade de corps et\n\u00e9pouvant\u00e9 d\u2019esprit. Je commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir s\u00e9rieusement sur ce\nque j\u2019avais fait et sur la justice divine qui frappait en moi un fils\ncoupable. Tous les bons conseils de mes parents, les larmes de mon\np\u00e8re, les paroles de ma m\u00e8re, se pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent alors vivement en mon\nesprit; et ma conscience, qui n\u2019\u00e9tait point encore arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 ce point\nde duret\u00e9 qu\u2019elle atteignit plus tard, me reprocha mon m\u00e9pris de la\nsagesse et de la violation de mes devoirs envers Dieu et mon p\u00e8re.\nPendant ce temps la temp\u00eate croissait, et la mer devint tr\u00e8s grosse;\nquoique ce ne f\u00fbt rien en comparaison de ce que j\u2019ai vu depuis, et\nm\u00eame seulement quelques jours apr\u00e8s, c\u2019en fut assez pour affecter\nun novice tel que moi. A chaque vague je me croyais submerg\u00e9, et\nchaque fois que le vaisseau s\u2019abaissait entre deux lames, je le\ncroyais englouti au fond de la mer. Dans cette agonie d\u2019esprit, je\nfis plusieurs fois le projet et le v\u0153u, s\u2019il plaisait \u00e0 Dieu de me\nsauver de ce voyage, et si je pouvais remettre le pied sur la terre\nferme, de ne plus le remettre \u00e0 bord d\u2019un navire, de m\u2019en aller tout\ndroit chez mon p\u00e8re, de m\u2019abandonner \u00e0 ses conseils, et de ne plus me\njeter dans de telles mis\u00e8res. Alors je vis pleinement l\u2019excellence\nde ses observations sur la vie commune, et combien doucement et\nconfortablement il avait pass\u00e9 tous ses jours, sans jamais avoir \u00e9t\u00e9\nexpos\u00e9, ni aux temp\u00eates de l\u2019oc\u00e9an, ni aux disgr\u00e2ces de la terre;\net je r\u00e9solus, comme l\u2019enfant prodigue repentant, de retourner \u00e0 la\nmaison paternelle.\nCes sages et s\u00e9rieuses pens\u00e9es dur\u00e8rent tant que dura la temp\u00eate,\net m\u00eame quelque temps apr\u00e8s; mais le jour d\u2019ensuite le vent \u00e9tant\nabattu et la mer plus calme, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m\u2019y accoutumer un peu.\nToutefois, j\u2019\u00e9tais encore indispos\u00e9 du mal de mer, et je demeurai fort\ntriste pendant tout le jour. Mais, \u00e0 l\u2019approche de la nuit, le temps\ns\u2019\u00e9claircit, le vent s\u2019apaisa tout \u00e0 fait, la soir\u00e9e fut d\u00e9licieuse,\net le soleil se coucha \u00e9clatant pour se lever de m\u00eame le lendemain:\nune brise l\u00e9g\u00e8re, un soleil embras\u00e9 resplendissant sur une mer unie,\nce fut un beau spectacle, le plus beau que j\u2019aie vu de ma vie.\n[Illustration: \u2014Tu n\u2019es qu\u2019un marin d\u2019eau douce, Bob...]\nJ\u2019avais bien dormi pendant la nuit; je ne ressentais plus de naus\u00e9es,\nj\u2019\u00e9tais vraiment dispos et je contemplais, \u00e9merveill\u00e9, l\u2019oc\u00e9an qui,\nla veille, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 si courrouc\u00e9 et si terrible, et qui si peu de\ntemps apr\u00e8s se montrait si calme et si agr\u00e9able. Alors, de peur que\nmes bonnes r\u00e9solutions ne se soutinssent, mon compagnon, qui apr\u00e8s\ntout m\u2019avait d\u00e9bauch\u00e9, vint \u00e0 moi:\u2014\u00abEh bien! Bob, me dit-il en me\nfrappant sur l\u2019\u00e9paule, comment \u00e7a va-t-il? Je gage que tu as \u00e9t\u00e9\neffray\u00e9, la nuit derni\u00e8re, quand il ventait: ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pourtant qu\u2019un\n_plein bonnet de vent!_\u00bb\u2014\u00abVous n\u2019appelez cela qu\u2019un _plein bonnet de\nvent?_ C\u2019\u00e9tait une horrible tourmente!\u00bb\u2014\u00abUne tourmente? tu es fou!\ntu appelles cela une tourmente? Vraiment ce n\u2019\u00e9tait rien du tout.\nDonne-nous un bon vaisseau et une belle d\u00e9rive, nous nous moquerons\nbien d\u2019une pareille rafale; tu n\u2019es qu\u2019un marin d\u2019eau douce, Bob;\nviens que nous fassions un _bowl de punch_, et que nous oubliions tout\ncela[2]. Vois quel temps charmant il fait \u00e0 cette heure!\u00bb\u2014 Enfin,\npour abr\u00e9ger cette triste portion de mon histoire, nous suiv\u00eemes le\nvieux train des gens de mer: on fit du _punch_, je m\u2019enivrai, et,\ndans une nuit de d\u00e9bauches, je noyai toute ma repentance, toutes mes\nr\u00e9flexions sur ma conduite pass\u00e9e, et toutes mes r\u00e9solutions pour\nl\u2019avenir. De m\u00eame que l\u2019oc\u00e9an avait rass\u00e9r\u00e9n\u00e9 sa surface et \u00e9tait\nrentr\u00e9 dans le repos apr\u00e8s la temp\u00eate abattue, de m\u00eame, apr\u00e8s le\ntrouble de mes pens\u00e9es \u00e9vanoui, apr\u00e8s la perte de mes craintes et\nde mes appr\u00e9hensions, le courant de mes d\u00e9sirs habituels revint, et\nj\u2019oubliai enti\u00e8rement les promesses et les v\u0153ux que j\u2019avais faits en\nma d\u00e9tresse. Pourtant, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, comme il arrive ordinairement en\npareil cas, quelques intervalles de r\u00e9flexions et de bons sentiments\nreparaissaient encore; mais je les chassais et je m\u2019en gu\u00e9rissais\ncomme d\u2019une maladie, en m\u2019adonnant et \u00e0 la boisson et \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9quipage.\nBient\u00f4t j\u2019eus surmont\u00e9 le retour de ces acc\u00e8s, c\u2019est ainsi que je\nles appelais, et en cinq ou six jours j\u2019obtins sur ma conscience une\nvictoire aussi compl\u00e8te qu\u2019un jeune libertin r\u00e9solu \u00e0 \u00e9touffer ses\nremords le pouvait d\u00e9sirer. Mais il m\u2019\u00e9tait r\u00e9serv\u00e9 de subir encore\nune \u00e9preuve: la Providence, suivant sa loi ordinaire, avait r\u00e9solu\nde me laisser enti\u00e8rement sans excuse. Puisque je ne voulais pas\nreconna\u00eetre ceci pour une d\u00e9livrance, la prochaine devait \u00eatre telle\nque le plus mauvais bandit d\u2019entre nous confesserait tout \u00e0 la fois le\ndanger et la mis\u00e9ricorde.\nLe sixi\u00e8me jour de notre travers\u00e9e, nous entr\u00e2mes dans la rade de\nYarmouth. Le vent ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 contraire et le temps calme, nous n\u2019avions\nfait que peu de chemin depuis la temp\u00eate. L\u00e0, nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de\njeter l\u2019ancre, et le vent continuant d\u2019\u00eatre contraire, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\nde souffler sud-ouest, nous y demeur\u00e2mes sept ou huit jours, durant\nlesquels beaucoup de vaisseaux de Newcastle vinrent mouiller dans la\nm\u00eame rade, refuge commun des b\u00e2timents qui attendent un vent favorable\npour gagner la Tamise.\nNous eussions, toutefois, rel\u00e2ch\u00e9 moins longtemps, et nous eussions\nd\u00fb, \u00e0 la faveur de la mar\u00e9e, remonter la rivi\u00e8re, si le vent n\u2019e\u00fbt\npas \u00e9t\u00e9 trop fort, et si au quatri\u00e8me ou cinqui\u00e8me jour de notre\nstation il n\u2019e\u00fbt pas souffl\u00e9 violemment. Cependant, comme la rade\n\u00e9tait r\u00e9put\u00e9e aussi bonne qu\u2019un port, comme le mouillage \u00e9tait bon,\net l\u2019appareil de notre ancre extr\u00eamement solide, nos gens \u00e9taient\ninsouciants, et, sans la moindre appr\u00e9hension du danger, ils passaient\nle temps dans le repos et dans la joie, comme il est d\u2019usage sur mer.\nMais, le huiti\u00e8me jour, le vent for\u00e7a; nous m\u00eemes tous la main \u00e0\nl\u2019\u0153uvre; nous cal\u00e2mes nos m\u00e2ts de hune et t\u00eenmes toutes choses closes\net serr\u00e9es, pour donner au vaisseau des mouvements aussi doux que\npossible. Vers midi, la mer devint tr\u00e8s grosse, notre ch\u00e2teau de proue\nplongeait; nous embarqu\u00e2mes plusieurs vagues, et il nous sembla une ou\ndeux fois que notre ancre labourait le fond. Sur ce, le capitaine fit\njeter l\u2019ancre d\u2019esp\u00e9rance, de sorte que nous chass\u00e2mes sur deux, apr\u00e8s\navoir fil\u00e9 nos c\u00e2bles jusqu\u2019au bout.\nD\u00e9j\u00e0 une terrible temp\u00eate mugissait, et je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 voir la\nterreur sur le visage des matelots eux-m\u00eames. Quoique veillant\nsans rel\u00e2che \u00e0 la conservation du vaisseau, comme il entrait ou\nsortait de sa cabine, et passait pr\u00e8s de moi, j\u2019entendis plusieurs\nfois le capitaine prof\u00e9rer tout bas ces paroles et d\u2019autres\nsemblables:\u2014\u00abSeigneur, ayez piti\u00e9 de nous! Nous sommes tous perdus,\nnous sommes tous morts!...\u00bb\u2014Durant ces premi\u00e8res confusions, j\u2019\u00e9tais\nstupide, \u00e9tendu dans ma cabine, au logement des matelots, et je\nne saurais d\u00e9crire l\u2019\u00e9tat de mon esprit. Je pouvais difficilement\nrentrer dans mon premier repentir, que j\u2019avais si manifestement\nfoul\u00e9 aux pieds, et contre lequel je m\u2019\u00e9tais endurci. Je pensais que\nles affres de la mort \u00e9taient pass\u00e9es, et que cet orage ne serait\npoint comme le premier. Mais quand, pr\u00e8s de moi, comme je le disais\ntant\u00f4t, le capitaine lui-m\u00eame s\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abNous sommes tous perdus!\u00bb\u2014je\nfus horriblement effray\u00e9, je sortis de ma cabine et je regardai\ndehors. Jamais spectacle aussi terrible n\u2019avait frapp\u00e9 mes yeux:\nl\u2019oc\u00e9an s\u2019\u00e9levait comme des montagnes, et \u00e0 chaque instant fondait\ncontre nous; quand je pouvais promener un regard aux alentours, je ne\nvoyais que d\u00e9tresse. Deux b\u00e2timents pesamment charg\u00e9s qui mouillaient\nnon loin de nous avaient coup\u00e9 leurs m\u00e2ts rez-pied; et nos gens\ns\u2019\u00e9cri\u00e8rent qu\u2019un navire ancr\u00e9 \u00e0 un mille de nous venait de sancir sur\nses amarres. Deux autres vaisseaux, arrach\u00e9s \u00e0 leurs ancres, hors de\nla rade allaient au large \u00e0 tout hasard, sans voiles ni m\u00e2tures. Les\nb\u00e2timents l\u00e9gers, fatiguant moins, \u00e9taient en meilleure passe; deux ou\ntrois d\u2019entre eux qui d\u00e9rivaient pass\u00e8rent tout contre nous, courant\nvent arri\u00e8re avec leur civadi\u00e8re seulement.\nVers le soir, le second et le bosseman suppli\u00e8rent le capitaine, qui\ns\u2019y opposa fortement, de laisser couper le m\u00e2t de misaine; mais le\nbosseman lui ayant protest\u00e9 que, s\u2019il ne le faisait pas, le b\u00e2timent\ncoulerait \u00e0 fond, il y consentit. Quand le m\u00e2t d\u2019avant fut abattu, le\ngrand m\u00e2t, \u00e9branl\u00e9, secouait si violemment le navire, qu\u2019ils furent\noblig\u00e9s de le couper aussi et de faire pont ras.\nChacun peut juger dans quel \u00e9tat je devais \u00eatre, moi, jeune marin,\nque pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment si peu de chose avait jet\u00e9 en si grand effroi;\nmais autant que je puis me rappeler de si loin les pens\u00e9es qui\nme pr\u00e9occupaient alors, j\u2019avais, dix fois plus que la mort, en\nhorreur d\u2019esprit, mon m\u00e9pris de mes premiers remords et mon retour\naux premi\u00e8res r\u00e9solutions que j\u2019avais prises si m\u00e9chamment. Cette\nhorreur, jointe \u00e0 la terreur de la temp\u00eate, me mirent dans un tel\n\u00e9tat, que je ne puis par des mots la d\u00e9peindre. Mais le pis n\u2019\u00e9tait\npas encore advenu; la temp\u00eate continua avec tant de furie, que les\nmarins eux-m\u00eames confess\u00e8rent n\u2019en avoir jamais vu de plus violente.\nNous avions un bon navire, mais il \u00e9tait lourdement charg\u00e9 et calait\ntellement, qu\u2019\u00e0 chaque instant les matelots s\u2019\u00e9criaient qu\u2019il allait\n_couler \u00e0 fond_. Sous un rapport, ce fut un bonheur pour moi que je\nne comprisse pas ce qu\u2019ils entendaient par ce mot avant que je m\u2019en\nfusse enquis. La tourmente \u00e9tait si terrible que je vis, chose rare,\nle capitaine, le contrema\u00eetre et quelques autres plus judicieux que\nle reste, faire leurs pri\u00e8res, s\u2019attendant \u00e0 tout moment que le\nvaisseau coulerait \u00e0 fond. Au milieu de la nuit, pour surcro\u00eet de\nd\u00e9tresse, un des hommes qu\u2019on avait envoy\u00e9s \u00e0 la visite, cria qu\u2019il\ns\u2019\u00e9tait fait une ouverture, et un autre dit qu\u2019il y avait quatre pieds\nd\u2019eau dans la cale. Alors tous les bras furent appel\u00e9s \u00e0 la pompe.\nA ce seul mot, je m\u2019\u00e9vanouis et je tombai \u00e0 la renverse sur le bord\nde mon lit, sur lequel j\u2019\u00e9tais assis dans ma cabine. Toutefois les\nmatelots me r\u00e9veill\u00e8rent et me dirent que si jusque-l\u00e0 je n\u2019avais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 bon \u00e0 rien, j\u2019\u00e9tais tout aussi capable de pomper qu\u2019aucun autre.\nJe me levai; j\u2019allai \u00e0 la pompe et je travaillai de tout c\u0153ur. Dans\ncette entrefaite, le capitaine apercevant quelques petits b\u00e2timents\ncharbonniers qui, ne pouvant surmonter la temp\u00eate, \u00e9taient forc\u00e9s de\nglisser et de courir au large, et ne venaient pas vers nous, ordonna\nde tirer un coup de canon en signal de d\u00e9tresse. Moi qui ne savais ce\nque cela signifiait, je fus tellement surpris, que je crus le vaisseau\nbris\u00e9 ou qu\u2019il \u00e9tait advenu quelque autre chose \u00e9pouvantable; en un\nmot, je fus si effray\u00e9 que je tombai en d\u00e9faillance. Comme c\u2019\u00e9tait\ndans un moment o\u00f9 chacun pensait \u00e0 sa propre vie, personne ne prit\ngarde \u00e0 moi, ni \u00e0 ce que j\u2019\u00e9tais devenu; seulement un autre prit\nma place \u00e0 la pompe, et me repoussa du pied \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9cart, pensant que\nj\u2019\u00e9tais mort, et ce ne fut que longtemps apr\u00e8s que je revins \u00e0 moi.\nOn travaillait toujours, mais l\u2019eau augmentant \u00e0 la cale, il y avait\ntoute apparence que le vaisseau coulerait bas. Et quoique la tourmente\ncommen\u00e7\u00e2t \u00e0 s\u2019abattre un peu, n\u00e9anmoins il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas possible\nqu\u2019il surnage\u00e2t jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que nous atteignissions un port; aussi\nle capitaine continua-t-il \u00e0 faire tirer le canon de d\u00e9tresse. Un\npetit b\u00e2timent qui venait justement de passer devant nous aventura\nune barque pour nous secourir. Ce fut avec le plus grand risque\nqu\u2019elle approcha; mais il \u00e9tait impossible que nous y allassions\nou qu\u2019elle parvint jusqu\u2019au flanc du vaisseau; enfin, les rameurs\nfaisant un dernier effort et hasardant leur vie pour sauver la n\u00f4tre,\nnos matelots leur lanc\u00e8rent de l\u2019avant une corde avec une bou\u00e9e,\net en fil\u00e8rent une grande longueur. Apr\u00e8s beaucoup de peines et de\np\u00e9rils, ils la saisirent, nous les hal\u00e2mes jusque sous notre poupe,\net nous descend\u00eemes dans leur barque. Il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 inutile de pr\u00e9tendre\natteindre leur b\u00e2timent: aussi l\u2019avis commun fut-il de laisser aller\nla barque en d\u00e9rive, et seulement de ramer le plus qu\u2019on pourrait\nvers la c\u00f4te, notre capitaine promettant, si la barque venait \u00e0 se\nbriser contre le rivage, d\u2019en tenir compte \u00e0 son patron. Ainsi, partie\nen ramant, partie en d\u00e9rivant vers le nord, notre bateau s\u2019en alla\nobliquement presque jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Winterton-Ness.\nIl n\u2019y avait gu\u00e8re plus d\u2019un quart d\u2019heure que nous avions abandonn\u00e9\nnotre vaisseau quand nous le v\u00eemes s\u2019ab\u00eemer; alors je compris pour la\npremi\u00e8re fois ce que signifiait _couler bas_. Mais, je dois l\u2019avouer,\nj\u2019avais l\u2019\u0153il trouble et je distinguais fort mal, quand les matelots\nme dirent qu\u2019il _coulait_, car, d\u00e8s le moment que j\u2019allai, ou plut\u00f4t\nqu\u2019on me mit dans la barque, j\u2019\u00e9tais an\u00e9anti par l\u2019effroi, l\u2019horreur\net la crainte de l\u2019avenir.\nNos gens faisaient toujours force de rames pour approcher du rivage.\nQuand notre bateau s\u2019\u00e9levait au haut des vagues, nous l\u2019apercevions,\net le long de la rive nous voyions une foule nombreuse accourir pour\nnous assister lorsque nous serions proches.\nNous avancions lentement, et nous ne p\u00fbmes aborder avant d\u2019avoir pass\u00e9\nle phare de Winterton; la c\u00f4te s\u2019enfon\u00e7ait \u00e0 l\u2019ouest vers Cromer, de\nsorte que la terre brisait la violence du vent. L\u00e0 nous abord\u00e2mes,\net, non sans grande difficult\u00e9, nous descend\u00eemes tous sains et saufs\nsur la plage, et all\u00e2mes \u00e0 pied \u00e0 Yarmouth, o\u00f9, comme des infortun\u00e9s,\nnous f\u00fbmes trait\u00e9s avec beaucoup d\u2019humanit\u00e9, et par les magistrats de\nla ville, qui nous assign\u00e8rent de bons g\u00eetes, et par les marchands\net les armateurs, qui nous donn\u00e8rent assez d\u2019argent pour nous rendre\n\u00e0 Londres ou pour retourner \u00e0 Hull, suivant que nous le jugerions\nconvenable.\n[Illustration: Nous all\u00e2mes \u00e0 pied \u00e0 Yarmouth.]\nC\u2019est alors que je devais avoir le bon sens de revenir \u00e0 Hull et de\nrentrer chez nous; j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 heureux, et mon p\u00e8re, embl\u00e8me de la\nparabole de notre Sauveur, e\u00fbt m\u00eame tu\u00e9 le veau gras pour moi; car,\nayant appris que le vaisseau sur lequel j\u2019\u00e9tais avait fait naufrage\ndans la rade de Yarmouth, il fut longtemps avant d\u2019avoir l\u2019assurance\nque je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas mort.\nMais mon mauvais destin m\u2019entra\u00eenait avec une obstination\nirr\u00e9sistible; et, bien que souvent ma raison et mon bon jugement\nme criassent de revenir \u00e0 la maison, je n\u2019avais pas la force de le\nfaire. Je ne saurais ni comment appeler cela, ni vouloir pr\u00e9tendre\nque ce soit un secret arr\u00eat irr\u00e9vocable qui nous pousse \u00e0 \u00eatre les\ninstruments de notre propre destruction, quoique m\u00eame nous en ayons la\nconscience, et que nous nous y pr\u00e9cipitions les yeux ouverts; mais,\nv\u00e9ritablement, si ce n\u2019est quelque d\u00e9cret in\u00e9vitable me condamnant\n\u00e0 une vie de mis\u00e8re et qu\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait impossible de braver, quelle\nchose e\u00fbt pu m\u2019entra\u00eener contre ma froide raison et les persuasions\nde mes pens\u00e9es les plus intimes, et contre les deux avertissements si\nmanifestes que j\u2019avais re\u00e7us dans ma premi\u00e8re entreprise.\nMon camarade, qui d\u2019abord avait aid\u00e9 \u00e0 mon endurcissement, et qui\n\u00e9tait le fils du capitaine, se trouvait alors plus d\u00e9courag\u00e9 que moi.\nLa premi\u00e8re fois qu\u2019il me parla \u00e0 Yarmouth, ce qui ne fut pas avant le\nsecond ou le troisi\u00e8me jour, car nous \u00e9tions log\u00e9s en divers quartiers\nde la ville; la premi\u00e8re fois, dis-je, qu\u2019il s\u2019informa de moi, son\nton me parut alt\u00e9r\u00e9: il me demanda d\u2019un air m\u00e9lancolique, en secouant\nla t\u00eate, comment je me portais, et dit \u00e0 son p\u00e8re qui j\u2019\u00e9tais, et\nque j\u2019avais fait ce voyage seulement pour essai, dans le dessein\nd\u2019en entreprendre d\u2019autres plus lointains. Cet homme se tourna vers\nmoi, et, avec un accent de gravit\u00e9 et d\u2019affliction:\u2014\u00abJeune homme, me\ndit-il, vous ne devez plus retourner sur mer; vous devez consid\u00e9rer\nceci comme une marque certaine et visible que vous n\u2019\u00eates point appel\u00e9\n\u00e0 faire un marin.\u00bb\u2014\u00abPourquoi, monsieur? est-ce que vous n\u2019irez plus\nen mer?\u00bb\u2014\u00abLe cas est bien diff\u00e9rent, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il: c\u2019est mon m\u00e9tier\net mon devoir; au lieu que vous, qui faisiez ce voyage comme essai,\nvoyez quel avant-go\u00fbt le ciel vous a donn\u00e9 de ce \u00e0 quoi il faudrait\nvous attendre si vous persistiez. Peut-\u00eatre cela n\u2019est-il advenu qu\u2019\u00e0\ncause de vous, semblable \u00e0 Jonas dans le vaisseau de Tarsis. Qui\n\u00eates-vous, je vous prie? et pourquoi vous \u00e9tiez-vous embarqu\u00e9?\u00bb\u2014Je\nlui contai en partie mon histoire. Sur la fin, il m\u2019interrompit et\ns\u2019emporta d\u2019une \u00e9trange mani\u00e8re:\u2014\u00abQu\u2019avais-je donc fait, s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il,\npour m\u00e9riter d\u2019avoir \u00e0 bord un pareil mis\u00e9rable! Je ne voudrais pas\npour mille livres sterling remettre le pied sur le m\u00eame vaisseau que\nvous!\u00bb\u2014C\u2019\u00e9tait, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, comme j\u2019ai dit, un v\u00e9ritable \u00e9garement\nde ses esprits encore troubl\u00e9s par le sentiment de sa perte, et\nqui d\u00e9passait toutes les bornes de son autorit\u00e9. Toutefois, il me\nparla ensuite tr\u00e8s gravement, m\u2019exhortant \u00e0 retourner chez mon p\u00e8re\net \u00e0 ne plus tenter la Providence. Il me dit qu\u2019il devait m\u2019\u00eatre\nvisible que le bras de Dieu \u00e9tait contre moi;\u2014\u00abenfin, jeune homme,\nme d\u00e9clara-t-il, comptez bien que si vous ne vous en retournez, en\nquelque lieu que vous alliez, vous ne trouverez qu\u2019adversit\u00e9 et\nd\u00e9sastre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que les paroles de votre p\u00e8re se v\u00e9rifient en\nvous.\u00bb\nJe lui r\u00e9pondis peu de chose: nous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s,\net je ne le revis plus; quelle route prit-il? je ne sais pas. Pour\nmoi, ayant quelque argent dans ma poche, je m\u2019en allai, par terre, \u00e0\nLondres. L\u00e0, comme sur la route, j\u2019eus plusieurs combats avec moi-m\u00eame\nsur le genre de vie que je devais prendre, ne sachant si je devais\nretourner chez nous ou retourner sur mer.\nQuant \u00e0 mon retour au logis, la honte \u00e9touffait les meilleurs\nmouvements de mon esprit, et lui repr\u00e9sentait incessamment combien je\nserais raill\u00e9 dans le voisinage et serais confus, non seulement devant\nmon p\u00e8re et ma m\u00e8re, mais devant m\u00eame qui que ce f\u00fbt. D\u2019o\u00f9 j\u2019ai depuis\nsouvent pris occasion d\u2019observer combien est sotte et incons\u00e9quente la\nconduite ordinaire des hommes et surtout de la jeunesse, \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9gard de\ncette raison qui devrait les guider en pareil cas; qu\u2019ils ne sont pas\nhonteux de l\u2019action qui devrait, \u00e0 bon droit, les faire passer pour\ninsens\u00e9s, mais qu\u2019ils sont honteux de leur repentance, qui seule peut\nles faire honorer comme sages.\nToutefois je demeurai quelque temps dans cette situation, ne sachant\nquel parti prendre, ni quelle carri\u00e8re embrasser, ni quel genre de\nvie mener. J\u2019\u00e9prouvais toujours une r\u00e9pugnance invincible pour la\nmaison paternelle; et, comme je balan\u00e7ais longtemps, le souvenir de\nla d\u00e9tresse o\u00f9 j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 s\u2019\u00e9vanouissait, et avec lui mes faibles\nd\u00e9sirs de retour, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019enfin je les mis tout \u00e0 fait de c\u00f4t\u00e9,\net cherchai \u00e0 faire un voyage.\nCette maligne influence qui m\u2019avait premi\u00e8rement pouss\u00e9 hors de\nla maison paternelle, qui m\u2019avait sugg\u00e9r\u00e9 l\u2019id\u00e9e extravagante et\nind\u00e9termin\u00e9e de faire fortune, et qui m\u2019avait inculqu\u00e9 si fortement\nces fantaisies, que j\u2019\u00e9tais devenu sourd aux bons avis, aux\nremontrances, et m\u00eame aux ordres de mon p\u00e8re; cette m\u00eame influence,\ndonc, quelle qu\u2019elle f\u00fbt, me fit concevoir la plus malheureuse de\ntoutes les entreprises, celle de monter \u00e0 bord d\u2019un vaisseau partant\npour la c\u00f4te d\u2019Afrique, ou, comme nos marins disent vulgairement, pour\nun voyage de Guin\u00e9e.\nCe fut un grand malheur pour moi, dans toutes ces aventures, que je\nne fisse point, \u00e0 bord, le service comme un matelot; \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9,\nj\u2019aurais travaill\u00e9 plus rudement que de coutume, mais, en m\u00eame temps,\nje me serais instruit des devoirs et de l\u2019office d\u2019un marin; et,\navec le temps, j\u2019aurais pu me rendre apte \u00e0 faire un pilote ou un\nlieutenant, sinon un capitaine. Mais ma destin\u00e9e \u00e9tait toujours de\nchoisir le pire; parce que j\u2019avais de l\u2019argent en poche et de bons\nv\u00eatements sur le dos, je voulais toujours aller \u00e0 bord comme un\n_gentleman_; aussi je n\u2019eus jamais aucune charge sur un b\u00e2timent et ne\nsus jamais en remplir aucune.\nJ\u2019eus la chance, d\u00e8s mon arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Londres, de tomber en assez bonne\ncompagnie, ce qui n\u2019arrive pas toujours aux jeunes fous libertins\net abandonn\u00e9s comme je l\u2019\u00e9tais alors, le d\u00e9mon ne tardant pas\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ralement \u00e0 leur dresser quelques emb\u00fbches; mais pour moi il n\u2019en\nfut pas ainsi. Ma premi\u00e8re connaissance fut un capitaine de vaisseau\nqui, \u00e9tant all\u00e9 sur la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e avec un tr\u00e8s grand succ\u00e8s,\navait r\u00e9solu d\u2019y retourner; ayant pris go\u00fbt \u00e0 ma soci\u00e9t\u00e9, qui alors\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas du tout d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able, et m\u2019ayant entendu parler de mon\nprojet de voir le monde, il me dit:\u2014\u00abSi vous voulez faire le voyage\navec moi, vous n\u2019aurez aucune d\u00e9pense, vous serez mon commensal et mon\ncompagnon; et si vous vouliez emporter quelque chose avec vous, vous\njouiriez de tous les avantages que le commerce offrirait, et peut-\u00eatre\ny trouveriez-vous quelque profit.\u00bb\nJ\u2019acceptai l\u2019offre, et me liant d\u2019\u00e9troite amiti\u00e9 avec ce capitaine,\nqui \u00e9tait un homme franc et honn\u00eate, je fis ce voyage avec lui,\nrisquant une petite somme, que, par sa probit\u00e9 d\u00e9sint\u00e9ress\u00e9e,\nj\u2019augmentai consid\u00e9rablement; car je n\u2019emportai environ que pour\nquarante livres sterling de verroteries et de babioles qu\u2019il m\u2019avait\nconseill\u00e9 d\u2019acheter. Ces quarante livres sterling, je les avais\namass\u00e9es par l\u2019assistance de quelques-uns de mes parents avec lesquels\nje correspondais, et qui, je pense, avaient engag\u00e9 mon p\u00e8re ou au\nmoins ma m\u00e8re \u00e0 contribuer d\u2019autant \u00e0 ma premi\u00e8re entreprise.\nC\u2019est le seul voyage o\u00f9 je puis dire avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 heureux dans toutes mes\nsp\u00e9culations, et je le dois \u00e0 l\u2019int\u00e9grit\u00e9 et \u00e0 l\u2019honn\u00eatet\u00e9 de mon ami\nle capitaine; en outre, j\u2019y acquis aussi une suffisante connaissance\ndes math\u00e9matiques et des r\u00e8gles de la navigation; j\u2019appris \u00e0 faire\nl\u2019estime d\u2019un vaisseau et \u00e0 prendre la hauteur; bref, \u00e0 entendre\nquelques-unes des choses qu\u2019un homme de mer doit n\u00e9cessairement\nsavoir. Autant mon capitaine prenait de plaisir \u00e0 m\u2019instruire, autant\nje prenais de plaisir \u00e0 \u00e9tudier; et, en un mot, ce voyage me fit tout\n\u00e0 la fois marin et marchand. Pour ma pacotille, je rapportai donc cinq\nlivres neuf onces de poudre d\u2019or, qui me valurent, \u00e0 mon retour \u00e0\nLondres, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s trois cents livres sterling, et me remplirent de\npens\u00e9es ambitieuses qui, plus tard, consomm\u00e8rent ma ruine.\nN\u00e9anmoins, j\u2019eus en ce voyage mes disgr\u00e2ces aussi; je fus surtout\ncontinuellement malade et jet\u00e9 dans une violente calenture[3], par la\nchaleur excessive du climat: notre principal trafic se faisant sur\nla c\u00f4te depuis le quinzi\u00e8me degr\u00e9 de latitude septentrionale jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nl\u2019\u00e9quateur.\nJe voulais alors me faire marchand de Guin\u00e9e, et pour mon malheur,\nmon ami \u00e9tant mort peu de temps apr\u00e8s son arriv\u00e9e, je r\u00e9solus\nd\u2019entreprendre encore ce voyage, et je m\u2019embarquai sur le m\u00eame navire\navec celui qui, la premi\u00e8re fois, en avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le contrema\u00eetre, et qui\nalors en avait obtenu le commandement. Jamais travers\u00e9e ne fut plus\nd\u00e9plorable; car bien que je n\u2019emportasse pas tout \u00e0 fait cent livres\nsterling de ma nouvelle richesse, laissant deux cents livres confi\u00e9es\n\u00e0 la veuve de mon ami, qui fut tr\u00e8s fid\u00e8le d\u00e9positaire, je ne laissai\npas de tomber en de terribles infortunes. Notre vaisseau, cinglant\nvers les Canaries, ou plut\u00f4t entre ces \u00eeles et la c\u00f4te d\u2019Afrique,\nfut surpris, \u00e0 l\u2019aube du jour, par un corsaire turc de Sall\u00e9, qui\nnous donna la chasse avec toute la voile qu\u2019il pouvait faire. Pour\nle parer, nous for\u00e7\u00e2mes aussi de voiles autant que nos vergues en\npurent d\u00e9ployer et nos m\u00e2ts en purent charrier; mais, voyant que le\npirate gagnait sur nous, et qu\u2019assur\u00e9ment avant peu d\u2019heures il nous\njoindrait, nous nous pr\u00e9par\u00e2mes au combat. Notre navire avait douze\ncanons et l\u2019\u00e9cumeur en avait dix-huit.\n[Illustration: Notre vaisseau fut surpris, \u00e0 l\u2019aube du jour, par un\ncorsaire turc de Sall\u00e9.]\nEnviron \u00e0 trois heures de l\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi, il entra dans nos eaux, et\nnous attaqua par m\u00e9prise, juste en travers de notre hanche, au lieu\nde nous enfiler par notre poupe, comme il le voulait. Nous point\u00e2mes\nhuit de nos canons de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, et lui envoy\u00e2mes une bord\u00e9e qui le\nfit reculer, apr\u00e8s avoir r\u00e9pondu \u00e0 notre feu et avoir fait faire\nune mousqueterie \u00e0 pr\u00e8s de deux cents hommes qu\u2019il avait \u00e0 bord.\nToutefois, tout notre monde se tenant couvert, pas un de nous n\u2019avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 touch\u00e9. Il se pr\u00e9para \u00e0 nous attaquer derechef, et nous, derechef,\n\u00e0 nous d\u00e9fendre; mais cette fois, venant \u00e0 l\u2019abordage par l\u2019autre\nflanc, il jeta soixante hommes sur notre pont, qui aussit\u00f4t coup\u00e8rent\net hach\u00e8rent nos agr\u00e8s. Nous les accabl\u00e2mes de coups de demi-piques,\nde coups de mousquets et de grenades d\u2019une si rude mani\u00e8re, que deux\nfois nous les chass\u00e2mes de notre pont. Enfin, pour abr\u00e9ger ce triste\nendroit de notre histoire, notre vaisseau \u00e9tant d\u00e9sempar\u00e9, trois de\nnos hommes tu\u00e9s et huit bless\u00e9s, nous f\u00fbmes contraints de nous rendre,\net nous f\u00fbmes tous conduits prisonniers \u00e0 Sall\u00e9, port appartenant aux\nMaures.\nL\u00e0, je re\u00e7us des traitements moins affreux que je ne l\u2019avais\nappr\u00e9hend\u00e9 d\u2019abord. Ainsi que le reste de l\u2019\u00e9quipage, je ne fus point\nemmen\u00e9 dans le pays \u00e0 la cour de l\u2019empereur; le capitaine du corsaire\nme garda pour sa part de prise; et, comme j\u2019\u00e9tais jeune, agile et \u00e0 sa\nconvenance, il me fit son esclave.\nA ce changement subit de condition, qui, de marchand, me faisait\nmis\u00e9rable esclave, je fus profond\u00e9ment accabl\u00e9; je me ressouvins alors\ndu discours proph\u00e9tique de mon p\u00e8re; que je deviendrais mis\u00e9rable\net n\u2019aurais personne pour me secourir; je le crus ainsi tout \u00e0 fait\naccompli, pensant que je ne pourrais jamais \u00eatre plus mal, que le\nbras de Dieu s\u2019\u00e9tait appesanti sur moi, et que j\u2019\u00e9tais perdu sans\nressource. Mais, h\u00e9las! ce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019un avant-go\u00fbt des mis\u00e8res qui\ndevaient me traverser, comme on le verra dans la suite de cette\nhistoire.\nMon nouveau patron ou ma\u00eetre m\u2019avait pris avec lui dans sa maison;\nj\u2019esp\u00e9rais aussi qu\u2019il me prendrait avec lui quand de nouveau il\nirait en mer, et que t\u00f4t ou tard son sort serait d\u2019\u00eatre pris par un\nvaisseau de guerre espagnol ou portugais, et qu\u2019alors je recouvrerais\nma libert\u00e9; mais cette esp\u00e9rance s\u2019\u00e9vanouit bient\u00f4t, car lorsqu\u2019il\nretournait en course, il me laissait \u00e0 terre pour soigner son petit\njardin et faire \u00e0 la maison la besogne ordinaire des esclaves; et\nquand il revenait de sa croisi\u00e8re, il m\u2019ordonnait de coucher dans sa\ncabine pour surveiller le navire.\nL\u00e0, je songeais sans cesse \u00e0 mon \u00e9vasion et au moyen que je pourrais\nemployer pour l\u2019effectuer, mais je ne trouvai aucun exp\u00e9dient qui\noffr\u00eet la moindre probabilit\u00e9, rien qui p\u00fbt faire supposer ce\nprojet raisonnable; car je n\u2019avais pas une seule personne \u00e0 qui\nle communiquer, pour qu\u2019elle s\u2019embarqu\u00e2t avec moi; ni compagnons\nd\u2019esclavage, ni Anglais, ni Irlandais, ni \u00c9cossais. De sorte que\npendant deux ans, quoique je me ber\u00e7asse souvent de ce r\u00eave, je\nn\u2019entrevis n\u00e9anmoins jamais la moindre chance favorable de le r\u00e9aliser.\nAu bout de ce temps environ il se pr\u00e9senta une circonstance singuli\u00e8re\nqui me remit en t\u00eate mon ancien projet de faire quelque tentative\npour recouvrer ma libert\u00e9. Mon patron restant alors plus longtemps\nque de coutume sans armer son vaisseau, et, \u00e0 ce que j\u2019appris, faute\nd\u2019argent, avait pour habitude, r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement deux ou trois fois\npar semaine, quelquefois plus si le temps \u00e9tait beau, de prendre\nla pinasse du navire et de s\u2019en aller p\u00eacher dans la rade; pour\ntirer \u00e0 la rame, il m\u2019emmenait toujours avec lui, ainsi qu\u2019un jeune\nMaurisque[4]; nous le divertissions beaucoup, et je me montrais fort\nadroit \u00e0 attraper le poisson; si bien qu\u2019il m\u2019envoyait quelquefois\navec un Maure de ses parents et le jeune gar\u00e7on, le Maurisque, comme\non l\u2019appelait, pour lui p\u00eacher un plat de poisson.\n[Illustration: ... Et je me montrais fort adroit \u00e0 attraper le\npoisson.]\nUne fois, il arriva qu\u2019\u00e9tant all\u00e9s \u00e0 la p\u00eache, un matin, par un\ngrand calme, une brume s\u2019\u00e9leva si \u00e9paisse que nous perd\u00eemes de vue\nle rivage, quoique nous n\u2019en fussions pas \u00e9loign\u00e9s d\u2019une demi-lieue.\nRamant \u00e0 l\u2019aventure, nous travaill\u00e2mes tout le jour et toute la nuit\nsuivante; et quand vint le matin, nous nous trouv\u00e2mes avoir gagn\u00e9 le\nlarge au lieu d\u2019avoir gagn\u00e9 la rive, dont nous \u00e9tions \u00e9cart\u00e9s au moins\nde deux lieues. Cependant nous l\u2019atteign\u00eemes, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 non sans\nbeaucoup de peine et non sans quelque danger, car dans la matin\u00e9e le\nvent commen\u00e7a \u00e0 souffler assez fort, et nous \u00e9tions tout mourants de\nfaim.\nOr, notre patron, mis en garde par cette aventure, r\u00e9solut d\u2019avoir\nplus soin de lui \u00e0 l\u2019avenir; ayant \u00e0 sa disposition la chaloupe de\nnotre navire anglais qu\u2019il avait captur\u00e9, il se d\u00e9termina \u00e0 ne plus\naller \u00e0 la p\u00eache sans une boussole et quelques provisions, et il\nordonna au charpentier de son b\u00e2timent, qui \u00e9tait aussi un Anglais\nesclave, d\u2019y construire dans le milieu une chambre de parade ou\ncabine semblable \u00e0 celle d\u2019un canot de plaisance, laissant assez de\nplace derri\u00e8re pour manier le gouvernail et border les \u00e9coutes, et\nassez de place devant pour qu\u2019une personne ou deux pussent man\u0153uvrer\nla voile. Cette chaloupe cinglait avec ce que nous appelons une voile\nd\u2019_\u00e9paule de mouton_[5], qu\u2019on amurait sur le fa\u00eete de la cabine,\nqui \u00e9tait basse et \u00e9troite, et contenait seulement une chambre \u00e0\ncoucher pour le patron et un ou deux esclaves, une table \u00e0 manger, et\nquelques \u00e9quipets pour mettre des bouteilles de certaines liqueurs \u00e0\nsa convenance, et surtout son pain, son riz et son caf\u00e9.\nSur cette chaloupe, nous allions fr\u00e9quemment \u00e0 la p\u00eache; et comme\nj\u2019\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s habile \u00e0 lui attraper du poisson, il n\u2019y allait\njamais sans moi. Or, il advint qu\u2019un jour, ayant projet\u00e9 de faire\nune promenade dans ce bateau avec deux ou trois Maures de quelque\ndistinction en cette place, il fit de grands pr\u00e9paratifs, et, la\nveille, \u00e0 cet effet, envoya au bateau une plus grande quantit\u00e9 de\nprovisions que de coutume, et me commanda de tenir pr\u00eats trois fusils\navec de la poudre et du plomb, qui se trouvaient \u00e0 bord de son\nvaisseau, parce qu\u2019ils se proposaient le plaisir de la chasse aussi\nbien que celui de la p\u00eache.\nJe pr\u00e9parai toutes choses selon ses ordres, et le lendemain au matin\nj\u2019attendais dans la chaloupe, lav\u00e9e et par\u00e9e avec guidon et flamme au\nvent, pour la digne r\u00e9ception de ses h\u00f4tes, lorsque incontinent mon\npatron vint tout seul \u00e0 bord, et me dit que ses convives avaient remis\nla partie, \u00e0 cause de quelques affaires qui leur \u00e9taient survenues. Il\nm\u2019enjoignit ensuite, suivant l\u2019usage, d\u2019aller sur ce bateau avec le\nMaure et le jeune gar\u00e7on pour p\u00eacher quelques poissons, parce que ses\namis devaient souper chez lui, me recommandant de revenir \u00e0 la maison\naussit\u00f4t que j\u2019aurais fait une bonne capture. Je me mis en devoir\nd\u2019ob\u00e9ir.\nCette occasion r\u00e9veilla en mon esprit mes premi\u00e8res id\u00e9es de libert\u00e9;\ncar alors je me trouvais sur le point d\u2019avoir un petit navire \u00e0 mon\ncommandement. Mon ma\u00eetre \u00e9tant parti, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me munir, non\nd\u2019ustensiles de p\u00eache, mais de provisions de voyage, quoique je ne\nsusse ni ne consid\u00e9rasse o\u00f9 je devais faire route, pour sortir de ce\nlieu, tout chemin m\u2019\u00e9tant bon.\nMon premier soin fut de trouver un pr\u00e9texte pour engager le Maure\n\u00e0 mettre \u00e0 bord quelque chose pour notre subsistance. Je lui dis\nqu\u2019il ne fallait pas que nous comptassions manger le pain de notre\npatron.\u2014\u00abCela est juste, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il;\u00bb\u2014et il apporta une grande\ncorbeille de _rusk_ ou de biscuit de mer de leur fa\u00e7on et trois\njarres d\u2019eau fra\u00eeche. Je savais o\u00f9 mon ma\u00eetre avait plac\u00e9 son coffre\n\u00e0 liqueurs, qui, cela \u00e9tait \u00e9vident par sa structure, devait provenir\nd\u2019une prise faite sur les Anglais. J\u2019en transportai les bouteilles\ndans la chaloupe tandis que le Maure \u00e9tait sur le rivage, comme\nsi elles eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 mises l\u00e0 auparavant pour notre ma\u00eetre. J\u2019y\ntransportai aussi un gros bloc de cire vierge qui pesait bien environ\nun demi-quintal, avec un paquet de fil ou ficelle, une hache, une scie\net un marteau, qui nous furent tous d\u2019un grand usage dans la suite,\nsurtout le morceau de cire pour faire des chandelles. Puis j\u2019essayai\nsur le Maure d\u2019une autre tromperie dans laquelle il donna encore\ninnocemment. Son nom \u00e9tait Isma\u00ebl, dont les Maures font Muly ou Mol\u00e9y;\nainsi l\u2019appelai-je et lui dis-je:\u2014\u00abMol\u00e9y, les mousquets de notre\npatron sont \u00e0 bord de la chaloupe; ne pourriez-vous pas vous procurer\nun peu de poudre et de plomb de chasse, afin de tuer, pour nous\nautres, quelques _alcamies_,\u2014oiseau semblable \u00e0 notre courlieu,\u2014car\nje sais qu\u2019il a laiss\u00e9 \u00e0 bord du navire les provisions de la soute\naux poudres.\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, dit-il, j\u2019en apporterai un peu;\u00bb\u2014et en effet il\napporta une grande poche de cuir contenant environ une livre et demie\nde poudre, plut\u00f4t plus que moins, et une autre poche pleine de plomb\net de balles, pesant environ six livres, et il mit le tout dans la\nchaloupe. Pendant ce temps, dans la grande cabine de mon ma\u00eetre,\nj\u2019avais d\u00e9couvert un peu de poudre dont j\u2019emplis une grosse bouteille\nqui s\u2019\u00e9tait trouv\u00e9e presque vide dans le bahut, apr\u00e8s avoir transvas\u00e9\nce qui y restait. Ainsi fournis de toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires, nous\nsort\u00eemes du havre pour aller \u00e0 la p\u00eache. A la forteresse qui est \u00e0\nl\u2019entr\u00e9e du port on savait qui nous \u00e9tions, on ne prit point garde \u00e0\nnous. A peine \u00e9tions-nous \u00e0 un mille en mer, nous amen\u00e2mes notre voile\net nous nous ass\u00eemes pour p\u00eacher. Le vent soufflait nord-nord-est, ce\nqui \u00e9tait contraire \u00e0 mon d\u00e9sir; car s\u2019il avait souffl\u00e9 sud, j\u2019eusse\n\u00e9t\u00e9 certain d\u2019atterrir \u00e0 la c\u00f4te d\u2019Espagne, ou au moins d\u2019atteindre la\nbaie de Cadix; mais ma r\u00e9solution \u00e9tait, vente qui vente, de sortir de\ncet horrible lieu, et d\u2019abandonner le reste au destin.\nApr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes p\u00each\u00e9 longtemps et rien pris, car lorsque j\u2019avais\nun poisson \u00e0 mon hame\u00e7on, pour qu\u2019on ne p\u00fbt le voir je ne le tirais\npoint dehors:\u2014\u00abNous ne faisons rien, dis-je au Maure; notre ma\u00eetre\nn\u2019entend pas \u00eatre servi comme \u00e7a; il nous faut encore remonter plus\nau large.\u00bb\u2014Lui, n\u2019y voyant pas malice, y consentit, et se trouvant \u00e0\nla proue, d\u00e9ploya les voiles. Comme je tenais la barre du gouvernail,\nje conduisis l\u2019embarcation \u00e0 une lieue au del\u00e0; alors je mis en panne\ncomme si je voulais p\u00eacher; et, tandis que le jeune gar\u00e7on tenait\nle timon, j\u2019allai \u00e0 la proue vers le Maure; et, faisant comme si je\nme baissais pour ramasser quelque chose derri\u00e8re lui, je le saisis\npar surprise en passant mon bras entre ses jambes, et je le lan\u00e7ai\nbrusquement hors du bord dans la mer. Il se redressa aussit\u00f4t, car il\nnageait comme un li\u00e8ge, et, m\u2019appelant, il me supplia de le reprendre\n\u00e0 bord, et me jura qu\u2019il irait d\u2019un bout \u00e0 l\u2019autre du monde avec moi.\nComme il nageait avec une grande vigueur apr\u00e8s la chaloupe et qu\u2019il\nfaisait alors peu de vent, il m\u2019aurait promptement atteint.\nSur ce, j\u2019allai dans la cabine, et, prenant une des arquebuses de\nchasse, je le couchai en joue et lui dis:\u2014\u00abJe ne vous ai pas fait de\nmal, et, si vous ne vous obstinez pas, je ne vous en ferai point. Vous\nnagez bien assez pour regagner la rive; la mer est calme, h\u00e2tez-vous\nd\u2019y aller, je ne vous frapperai point; mais si vous vous approchez\ndu bateau, je vous tire une balle dans la t\u00eate, car je suis r\u00e9solu\n\u00e0 recouvrer ma libert\u00e9.\u00bb\u2014Alors il revira et nagea vers le rivage.\nJe ne doute point qu\u2019il ne l\u2019ait atteint facilement, car c\u2019\u00e9tait un\nexcellent nageur.\n[Illustration: \u2014... mais si vous vous approchez du bateau, je vous\ntire une balle dans la t\u00eate.]\nJ\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 plus satisfait d\u2019avoir gard\u00e9 ce Maure et d\u2019avoir noy\u00e9 le\njeune gar\u00e7on; mais, l\u00e0, je ne pouvais risquer de me confier \u00e0 lui.\nQuand il fut \u00e9loign\u00e9, je me tournai vers le jeune gar\u00e7on, appel\u00e9 Xury,\net je lui dis:\u2014\u00abXury, si tu veux m\u2019\u00eatre fid\u00e8le, je ferai de toi un\nhomme; mais si tu ne mets la main sur ta face que tu seras sinc\u00e8re\navec moi,\u2014ce qui est jurer par Mahomet et la barbe de son p\u00e8re,\u2014il\nfaut que je te jette aussi dans la mer.\u00bb\u2014Cet enfant me fit un sourire,\net me parla si innocemment que je n\u2019aurais pu me d\u00e9fier de lui; puis\nil fit le serment de m\u2019\u00eatre fid\u00e8le et de me suivre en tous lieux.\nTant que je fus en vue du Maure, qui \u00e9tait \u00e0 la nage, je portai\ndirectement au large, pr\u00e9f\u00e9rant bouliner, afin qu\u2019on p\u00fbt croire que\nj\u2019\u00e9tais all\u00e9 vers le d\u00e9troit[6], comme en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 on e\u00fbt pu le supposer\nde toute personne dans son bon sens; car aurait-on pu imaginer que\nnous faisions route au sud, vers une c\u00f4te v\u00e9ritablement barbare, o\u00f9\nnous \u00e9tions s\u00fbrs que toutes les peuplades de n\u00e8gres nous entoureraient\nde leurs canots et nous d\u00e9soleraient; o\u00f9 nous ne pourrions aller\nau rivage sans \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les b\u00eates sauvages ou par de plus\nimpitoyables sauvages de l\u2019esp\u00e8ce humaine.\nMais aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019il fit sombre, je changeai de route, et je gouvernai\nau sud-est, inclinant un peu ma course vers l\u2019est, pour ne pas\nm\u2019\u00e9loigner de la c\u00f4te; et, ayant un bon vent, une mer calme et unie,\nje fis tellement de la voile, que le lendemain, \u00e0 trois heures de\nl\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi, quand je d\u00e9couvris premi\u00e8rement la terre, je devais \u00eatre\nau moins \u00e0 cent cinquante milles au sud de Sall\u00e9, tout \u00e0 fait au del\u00e0\ndes \u00c9tats de l\u2019empereur du Maroc, et m\u00eame de tout autre roi de par l\u00e0,\ncar nous ne v\u00eemes personne.\nToutefois, la peur que j\u2019avais des Maures \u00e9tait si grande, et les\nappr\u00e9hensions que j\u2019avais de tomber entre leurs mains \u00e9taient si\nterribles, que je ne voulus ni ralentir, ni aller \u00e0 terre, ni\nlaisser tomber l\u2019ancre. Le vent continuant \u00e0 \u00eatre favorable, je\nnaviguai ainsi cinq jours durant; mais lorsqu\u2019il eut tourn\u00e9 au sud,\nje conclus que si quelque vaisseau \u00e9tait en chasse apr\u00e8s moi, il\ndevait alors se retirer; aussi hasardai-je d\u2019atterrir et mouillai-je\nl\u2019ancre \u00e0 l\u2019embouchure d\u2019une petite rivi\u00e8re, je ne sais laquelle, je\nne sais o\u00f9, ni quelle latitude, quelle contr\u00e9e, ou quelle nation:\nje n\u2019y vis pas ni ne d\u00e9sirai point y voir aucun homme; la chose\nimportante dont j\u2019avais besoin, c\u2019\u00e9tait de l\u2019eau fra\u00eeche. Nous\nentr\u00e2mes dans cette crique sur le soir, nous d\u00e9terminant d\u2019aller\n\u00e0 terre \u00e0 la nage sit\u00f4t qu\u2019il ferait sombre, et de reconna\u00eetre le\npays. Mais aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019il fit enti\u00e8rement obscur, nous entend\u00eemes un\nsi \u00e9pouvantable bruit d\u2019aboiement, de hurlement et de rugissement\nde b\u00eates farouches dont nous ne connaissions pas l\u2019esp\u00e8ce, que le\npauvre petit gar\u00e7on faillit en mourir de frayeur, et me supplia de\nne point descendre \u00e0 terre avant le jour.\u2014\u00abBien, Xury, lui dis-je,\nmaintenant je n\u2019irai point, mais peut-\u00eatre au jour verrons-nous des\nhommes qui seront plus m\u00e9chants pour nous que des lions.\u00bb\u2014\u00abAlors\nnous tirer \u00e0 eux un coup de mousquet, dit en riant Xury, pour faire\neux s\u2019enfuir loin.\u00bb\u2014Tel \u00e9tait l\u2019anglais que Xury avait appris par la\nfr\u00e9quentation de nous autres esclaves. N\u00e9anmoins, je fus aise de voir\ncet enfant si r\u00e9solu, et je lui donnai, pour le r\u00e9conforter, un peu\nde liqueur tir\u00e9e d\u2019une bouteille du coffre de notre patron. Apr\u00e8s\ntout, l\u2019avis de Xury \u00e9tait bon, et je le suivis; nous mouill\u00e2mes\nnotre petite ancre, et nous demeur\u00e2mes tranquilles toute la nuit; je\ndis tranquilles parce que nous ne dorm\u00eemes pas, car durant deux ou\ntrois heures nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes des cr\u00e9atures excessivement grandes et de\ndiff\u00e9rentes esp\u00e8ces,\u2014auxquelles nous ne savions quels noms donner,\u2014qui\ndescendaient vers la rive et couraient dans l\u2019eau, en se vautrant\net se lavant pour le plaisir de se rafra\u00eechir; elles poussaient des\nhurlements et des meuglements si affreux que jamais, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je\nn\u2019ai rien ou\u00ef de semblable.\nXury \u00e9tait horriblement effray\u00e9, et, au fait, je l\u2019\u00e9tais aussi; mais\nnous f\u00fbmes tous deux plus effray\u00e9s encore quand nous entend\u00eemes une\nde ces \u00e9normes cr\u00e9atures venir \u00e0 la nage vers notre chaloupe. Nous ne\npouvions la voir, mais nous pouvions reconna\u00eetre \u00e0 son soufflement\nque ce devait \u00eatre une b\u00eate monstrueusement grosse et furieuse. Xury\npr\u00e9tendait que c\u2019\u00e9tait un lion, cela pouvait bien \u00eatre; tout ce que\nje sais, c\u2019est que le pauvre enfant me disait de lever l\u2019ancre et de\nfaire force de rames.\u2014\u00abNon pas, Xury, lui r\u00e9pondis-je; il vaut mieux\nfiler par le bout notre c\u00e2ble avec une bou\u00e9e, et nous \u00e9loigner en\nmer; car il ne pourra nous suivre fort loin.\u00bb\u2014Je n\u2019eus pas plut\u00f4t\nparl\u00e9 ainsi que j\u2019aper\u00e7us cet animal,\u2014quel qu\u2019il f\u00fbt,\u2014\u00e0 deux port\u00e9es\nd\u2019aviron, ce qui me surprit un peu. N\u00e9anmoins, aussit\u00f4t j\u2019allai \u00e0\nl\u2019entr\u00e9e de la cabine, je pris mon mousquet et je fis feu sur lui: \u00e0\nce coup il tournoya et nagea de nouveau vers le rivage.\nIl est impossible de d\u00e9crire le tumulte horrible, les cris affreux\net les hurlements qui s\u2019\u00e9lev\u00e8rent sur le bord du rivage et dans\nl\u2019int\u00e9rieur des terres, au bruit et au retentissement de mon mousquet;\nje pense avec quelque raison que ces cr\u00e9atures n\u2019avaient auparavant\njamais rien ou\u00ef de pareil. Ceci me fit voir que nous ne devions\npas descendre sur cette c\u00f4te pendant la nuit, et combien il serait\nchanceux de s\u2019y hasarder pendant le jour, car tomber entre les\nmains de quelques sauvages \u00e9tait, pour nous, tout aussi redoutable\nque de tomber dans les griffes des lions et des tigres; du moins\nappr\u00e9hendions-nous \u00e9galement l\u2019un et l\u2019autre danger.\nQuoi qu\u2019il en f\u00fbt, nous \u00e9tions oblig\u00e9s d\u2019aller quelque part \u00e0\nl\u2019aiguade; il ne nous restait pas \u00e0 bord une pinte d\u2019eau; mais quand?\nmais o\u00f9? c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 l\u2019embarras. Xury me dit que si je voulais le\nlaisser aller \u00e0 terre avec une des jarres, il d\u00e9couvrirait s\u2019il y\navait de l\u2019eau et m\u2019en apporterait. Je lui demandai pourquoi il y\nvoulait aller; pourquoi ne resterait-il pas dans la chaloupe, et\nmoi-m\u00eame n\u2019irais-je pas? Cet enfant me r\u00e9pondit avec tant d\u2019affection\nque je l\u2019en aimai toujours depuis. Il me dit:\u2014\u00abSi les sauvages hommes\nvenir, eux manger moi, vous s\u2019enfuir.\u00bb\u2014\u00abBien, Xury, m\u2019\u00e9criai-je, nous\nirons tous deux, et si les hommes sauvages viennent, nous les tuerons;\nils ne nous mangeront ni l\u2019un ni l\u2019autre.\u00bb\u2014Alors je donnai \u00e0 Xury un\nmorceau de biscuit et \u00e0 boire une gorg\u00e9e de liqueur tir\u00e9e du coffre\nde notre patron, dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment; puis, ayant hal\u00e9 la\nchaloupe aussi pr\u00e8s du rivage que nous le jugions convenable, nous\ndescend\u00eemes \u00e0 terre, n\u2019emportant seulement avec nous que nos armes et\ndeux jarres pour faire de l\u2019eau.\nJe n\u2019eus garde d\u2019aller hors de la vue de notre chaloupe, craignant\nune descente de canots de sauvages sur la rivi\u00e8re; mais le petit\ngar\u00e7on ayant aper\u00e7u un lieu bas \u00e0 environ un mille dans les terres,\nil y courut, et aussit\u00f4t je le vis revenir vers moi. Je pensai qu\u2019il\n\u00e9tait poursuivi par quelque sauvage ou \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 par quelque b\u00eate\nf\u00e9roce; je volai \u00e0 son secours; mais quand je fus assez proche de\nlui, je distinguai quelque chose qui pendait sur son \u00e9paule: c\u2019\u00e9tait\nun animal sur lequel il avait tir\u00e9, semblable \u00e0 un li\u00e8vre, mais d\u2019une\ncouleur diff\u00e9rente et plus long des jambes. Toutefois, nous en f\u00fbmes\nfort joyeux, car ce fut un excellent manger; mais ce qui avait caus\u00e9\nla grande joie du pauvre Xury, c\u2019\u00e9tait de m\u2019apporter la nouvelle qu\u2019il\navait trouv\u00e9 de la bonne eau sans rencontrer des sauvages.\nNous v\u00eemes ensuite qu\u2019il ne nous \u00e9tait pas n\u00e9cessaire de prendre tant\nde peines pour faire de l\u2019eau; car un peu au-dessus de la crique o\u00f9\nnous \u00e9tions, nous trouv\u00e2mes l\u2019eau douce; quand la mar\u00e9e \u00e9tait basse,\nelle remontait fort peu avant. Ainsi nous empl\u00eemes nos jarres, nous\nnous r\u00e9gal\u00e2mes du li\u00e8vre que nous avions tu\u00e9, et nous nous pr\u00e9par\u00e2mes\n\u00e0 reprendre notre route sans avoir d\u00e9couvert un vestige humain dans\ncette portion de la contr\u00e9e.\n[Illustration: Ainsi nous empl\u00eemes nos jarres.]\nComme j\u2019avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait un voyage \u00e0 cette c\u00f4te, je savais tr\u00e8s\nbien que les \u00eeles Canaries et les \u00eeles du cap Vert n\u2019\u00e9taient pas\n\u00e9loign\u00e9es; mais comme je n\u2019avais pas d\u2019instruments pour prendre\nhauteur et conna\u00eetre la latitude o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions, et ne sachant pas\nexactement ou au moins ne me rappelant pas dans quelle latitude elles\n\u00e9taient elles-m\u00eames situ\u00e9es, je ne savais o\u00f9 les chercher ni quand il\nfaudrait, de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, porter le cap au large; sans cela, j\u2019aurais pu\nais\u00e9ment trouver une de ces \u00eeles. En tenant le long de la c\u00f4te jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nce que j\u2019arrivasse \u00e0 la partie o\u00f9 trafiquent les Anglais, mon espoir\n\u00e9tait de rencontrer en op\u00e9ration habituelle de commerce quelqu\u2019un de\nleurs vaisseaux qui nous secourrait et nous prendrait \u00e0 bord.\nSuivant mon calcul le plus exact, le lieu o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais alors doit\n\u00eatre cette contr\u00e9e s\u2019\u00e9tendant entre les possessions de l\u2019empereur\ndu Maroc et la Nigritie; contr\u00e9e inculte, peupl\u00e9e seulement par les\nb\u00eates f\u00e9roces, les n\u00e8gres l\u2019ayant abandonn\u00e9e et s\u2019\u00e9tant retir\u00e9s plus\nau midi, de peur des Maures; et les Maures d\u00e9daignant de l\u2019habiter\n\u00e0 cause de sa st\u00e9rilit\u00e9; mais au fait, les uns et les autres y ont\nrenonc\u00e9 parce qu\u2019elle est le repaire d\u2019une quantit\u00e9 prodigieuse de\ntigres, de lions, de l\u00e9opards et d\u2019autres farouches cr\u00e9atures; aussi\nne sert-elle aux Maures que pour leurs chasses, o\u00f9 ils vont, comme une\narm\u00e9e, deux ou trois mille hommes \u00e0 la fois. V\u00e9ritablement, durant\npr\u00e8s de cent milles de suite sur cette c\u00f4te, nous ne v\u00eemes pendant le\njour qu\u2019un pays agreste et d\u00e9sert, et n\u2019entend\u00eemes pendant la nuit que\nles hurlements et les rugissements des b\u00eates sauvages.\nUne ou deux fois dans la journ\u00e9e, je crus apercevoir le pic de\nT\u00e9n\u00e9riffe dans les Canaries, et j\u2019eus grande envie de m\u2019aventurer au\nlarge dans l\u2019espoir de l\u2019atteindre; mais, l\u2019ayant essay\u00e9 deux fois,\nje fus repouss\u00e9 par les vents contraires; et comme aussi la mer \u00e9tait\ntrop grosse pour mon petit vaisseau, je r\u00e9solus de continuer mon\npremier dessein de c\u00f4toyer le rivage.\nApr\u00e8s avoir quitt\u00e9 ce lieu, je fus plusieurs fois oblig\u00e9 d\u2019aborder\npour faire aiguade; et une fois entre autres qu\u2019il \u00e9tait de bon matin,\nnous v\u00eenmes mouiller sous une petite pointe de terre assez \u00e9lev\u00e9e et\nla mar\u00e9e commen\u00e7ant \u00e0 monter, nous attendions tranquillement qu\u2019elle\nnous port\u00e2t plus avant. Xury, qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, avait plus que\nmoi l\u2019\u0153il au guet, m\u2019appela doucement et me dit que nous ferions mieux\nde nous \u00e9loigner du rivage:\u2014\u00abcar regardez l\u00e0-bas, ajouta-t-il, ce\nmonstre affreux \u00e9tendu sur le flanc de cette colline, et profond\u00e9ment\nendormi.\u00bb\u2014Je regardai au lieu qu\u2019il d\u00e9signait, et je vis un monstre\n\u00e9pouvantable, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, car c\u2019\u00e9tait un \u00e9norme et terrible lion couch\u00e9\nsur le penchant du rivage, \u00e0 l\u2019ombre d\u2019une portion de la montagne,\nqui, en quelque sorte, pendait presque au-dessus de lui.\u2014\u00abXury, lui\ndis-je, va \u00e0 terre, et tue-le.\u00bb\u2014Xury parut effray\u00e9, et r\u00e9pliqua:\u2014\u00abMoi\ntuer! lui manger moi d\u2019une seule bouche.\u00bb\u2014Il voulait dire d\u2019une seule\nbouch\u00e9e. Toutefois, je ne dis plus rien \u00e0 ce gar\u00e7on; seulement je\nlui ordonnai de rester tranquille, et je pris notre plus gros fusil,\nqui \u00e9tait presque du calibre d\u2019un mousquet, et apr\u00e8s y avoir mis une\nbonne charge de poudre et deux lingots, je le posai \u00e0 terre; puis en\nchargeai un autre \u00e0 deux balles; et le troisi\u00e8me, car nous en avions\ntrois, je le chargeai de cinq chevrotines. Je pointai du mieux que\nje pus ma premi\u00e8re arme pour le frapper \u00e0 la t\u00eate; mais il \u00e9tait\ncouch\u00e9 de telle fa\u00e7on, avec une patte pass\u00e9e un peu au-dessus de son\nmufle, que les lingots l\u2019atteignirent \u00e0 la jambe pr\u00e8s du genou, et lui\nbris\u00e8rent l\u2019os. Il tressaillit d\u2019abord en grondant; mais sentant sa\njambe bris\u00e9e, il se rabattit, puis il se dressa sur trois jambes, et\njeta le plus effroyable rugissement que j\u2019entendis jamais. Je fus un\npeu surpris de ne l\u2019avoir point frapp\u00e9 \u00e0 la t\u00eate. N\u00e9anmoins je pris\naussit\u00f4t mon second mousquet, et quoiqu\u2019il commen\u00e7\u00e2t \u00e0 s\u2019\u00e9loigner,\nje fis feu de nouveau; je l\u2019atteignis \u00e0 la t\u00eate, et j\u2019eus le plaisir\nde le voir se laisser tomber silencieusement et se roidir en luttant\ncontre la mort. Xury prit alors du c\u0153ur, et me demanda de le laisser\naller \u00e0 terre.\u2014\u00abSoit; va, lui dis-je.\u00bb\u2014Aussit\u00f4t ce gar\u00e7on sauta \u00e0\nl\u2019eau, et tenant un petit mousquet d\u2019une main, il nagea de l\u2019autre\njusqu\u2019au rivage. Puis, s\u2019\u00e9tant approch\u00e9 du lion, il lui posa le canon\ndu mousquet \u00e0 l\u2019oreille et le lui d\u00e9chargea aussi dans la t\u00eate, ce qui\nl\u2019exp\u00e9dia tout \u00e0 fait.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait v\u00e9ritablement une chasse pour nous, mais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas du\ngibier, et j\u2019\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s f\u00e2ch\u00e9 de perdre trois charges de poudre et\ndes balles sur une cr\u00e9ature qui n\u2019\u00e9tait bonne \u00e0 rien pour nous. Xury,\nn\u00e9anmoins, voulait en emporter quelque chose. Il vint donc \u00e0 bord,\net me demanda de lui donner la hache.\u2014\u00abPourquoi faire, Xury? lui\ndis-je.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMoi trancher sa t\u00eate, r\u00e9pondit-il.\u00bb\u2014Toutefois Xury ne put\npas la lui trancher, mais il lui coupa une patte qu\u2019il m\u2019apporta: elle\n\u00e9tait monstrueuse.\nCependant je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis que sa peau pourrait sans doute, d\u2019une fa\u00e7on ou\nd\u2019une autre, nous \u00eatre de quelque valeur, et je r\u00e9solus de l\u2019\u00e9corcher\nsi je le pouvais. Xury et moi all\u00e2mes donc nous mettre \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre; mais\n\u00e0 cette besogne Xury \u00e9tait de beaucoup le meilleur ouvrier, car je ne\nsavais comment m\u2019y prendre. Au fait, cela nous occupa tous deux durant\nla journ\u00e9e enti\u00e8re; enfin nous en v\u00eenmes \u00e0 bout, et nous l\u2019\u00e9tend\u00eemes\nsur le toit de notre cabine. Le soleil la s\u00e9cha parfaitement en deux\njours. Je m\u2019en servis ensuite pour me coucher dessus.\nApr\u00e8s cette halte, nous navigu\u00e2mes continuellement vers le sud pendant\ndix ou douze jours, usant avec parcimonie de nos provisions, qui\ncommen\u00e7aient \u00e0 diminuer beaucoup, et ne descendant \u00e0 terre que lorsque\nnous y \u00e9tions oblig\u00e9s pour aller \u00e0 l\u2019aiguade. Mon dessein \u00e9tait alors\nd\u2019atteindre le fleuve de Gambie ou le fleuve de S\u00e9n\u00e9gal, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\naux environs du cap Vert, o\u00f9 j\u2019esp\u00e9rais rencontrer quelque b\u00e2timent\neurop\u00e9en; le cas contraire \u00e9ch\u00e9ant, je ne savais plus quelle route\ntenir, \u00e0 moins que je ne me misse \u00e0 la recherche des \u00eeles ou que\nj\u2019allasse p\u00e9rir au milieu des n\u00e8gres.\nJe savais que tous les vaisseaux qui font voile pour la c\u00f4te de\nGuin\u00e9e, le Br\u00e9sil ou les Indes orientales, touchent \u00e0 ce cap ou \u00e0 ces\n\u00eeles. En un mot, je pla\u00e7ais l\u00e0 toute l\u2019alternative de mon sort, soit\nque je dusse rencontrer un b\u00e2timent, soit que je dusse p\u00e9rir.\nQuand j\u2019eus suivi cette r\u00e9solution pendant environ dix jours de plus,\ncomme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m\u2019apercevoir que la c\u00f4te \u00e9tait\nhabit\u00e9e, et en deux ou trois endroits que nous longions, nous v\u00eemes\ndes gens qui s\u2019arr\u00eataient sur le rivage pour nous regarder; nous\npouvions aussi distinguer qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient enti\u00e8rement noirs et tout \u00e0\nfait nus. J\u2019eus une fois l\u2019envie de descendre \u00e0 terre vers eux; mais\nXury fut meilleur conseiller, et me dit:\u2014\u00abPas aller! Pas aller!\u00bb\u2014Je\nhalai cependant plus pr\u00e8s du rivage afin de pouvoir leur parler,\net ils me suivirent pendant quelque temps le long de la rive. Je\nremarquai qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient point d\u2019armes \u00e0 la main, un seul except\u00e9\nqui portait un long et mince b\u00e2ton, que Xury dit \u00eatre une lance qu\u2019ils\npouvaient lancer fort loin avec beaucoup de justesse. Je me tins donc\n\u00e0 distance, mais je causai avec eux, par gestes, aussi bien que je\npus, et particuli\u00e8rement pour leur demander quelque chose \u00e0 manger.\nIls me firent signe d\u2019arr\u00eater ma chaloupe, et qu\u2019ils iraient me\nchercher quelque nourriture. Sur ce, j\u2019abaissai le haut de ma voile;\nje m\u2019arr\u00eatai proche, et deux d\u2019entre eux coururent dans le pays, et en\nmoins d\u2019une demi-heure revinrent, rapportant avec eux deux morceaux\nde viande s\u00e8che et du grain, productions de leur contr\u00e9e. Ni Xury ni\nmoi ne savions ce que c\u2019\u00e9tait; pourtant nous \u00e9tions fort d\u00e9sireux de\nle recevoir; mais comment y parvenir? Ce fut l\u00e0 notre embarras. Je\nn\u2019osais point aller \u00e0 terre vers eux, qui n\u2019\u00e9taient pas moins effray\u00e9s\nde nous. Bref, ils prirent un d\u00e9tour excellent pour nous tous; ils\nd\u00e9pos\u00e8rent les provisions sur le rivage, et se retir\u00e8rent \u00e0 une grande\ndistance jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que nous les e\u00fbmes toutes embarqu\u00e9es, puis se\nrapproch\u00e8rent de nous.\nN\u2019ayant rien \u00e0 leur donner en \u00e9change, nous leur faisions des signes\nde remerciement, quand tout \u00e0 coup s\u2019offrit une merveilleuse occasion\nde les obliger. Tandis que nous \u00e9tions arr\u00eat\u00e9s pr\u00e8s de la c\u00f4te, voici\nvenir des montagnes deux \u00e9normes cr\u00e9atures se poursuivant avec fureur.\n\u00c9tait-ce le m\u00e2le qui poursuivait la femelle? \u00c9taient-ils en \u00e9bats\nou en rage? Il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible de le dire. \u00c9tait-ce ordinaire ou\n\u00e9trange? je ne sais. Toutefois, je pencherais plut\u00f4t pour le dernier,\nparce que ces animaux voraces n\u2019apparaissent gu\u00e8re que la nuit, et\nparce que nous v\u00eemes la foule horriblement \u00e9pouvant\u00e9e, surtout les\nfemmes, L\u2019homme qui portait la lance ou le dard ne prit point la fuite\n\u00e0 leur aspect comme tout le reste. N\u00e9anmoins, ces deux cr\u00e9atures\ncoururent droit \u00e0 la mer, et, ne montrant nulle intention de se jeter\nsur un seul de ces n\u00e8gres, elles se plong\u00e8rent dans les flots et se\nmirent \u00e0 nager \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, comme si elles y \u00e9taient venues pour leur\ndivertissement. Enfin un de ces animaux commen\u00e7a \u00e0 s\u2019approcher de\nmon embarcation plus pr\u00e8s que je ne m\u2019y serais attendu d\u2019abord; mais\nj\u2019\u00e9tais en garde contre lui, car j\u2019avais charg\u00e9 mon mousquet avec\ntoute la promptitude possible, et j\u2019avais ordonn\u00e9 \u00e0 Xury de charger\nles autres. D\u00e8s qu\u2019il fut \u00e0 ma port\u00e9e, je fis feu et je le frappai\ndroit \u00e0 la t\u00eate. Aussit\u00f4t il s\u2019enfon\u00e7a dans l\u2019eau, mais aussit\u00f4t il\nreparut et plongea et replongea, semblant lutter avec la vie: ce qui\n\u00e9tait en effet, car imm\u00e9diatement il se dirigea vers le rivage et\np\u00e9rit juste au moment de l\u2019atteindre, tant \u00e0 cause des coups mortels\nqu\u2019il avait re\u00e7us que de l\u2019eau qui l\u2019\u00e9touffa.\nIl serait impossible d\u2019exprimer l\u2019\u00e9tonnement de ces pauvres gens au\nbruit et au feu de mon mousquet. Quelques-uns d\u2019entre eux faillirent\nen mourir d\u2019effroi, et, comme morts, tomb\u00e8rent contre terre dans la\nplus grande terreur. Mais quand ils eurent vu l\u2019animal tu\u00e9 et enfonc\u00e9\nsous l\u2019eau, et que je leur eus fait signe de revenir sur le bord,\nils prirent du c\u0153ur; ils s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent vers la rive et se mirent \u00e0 sa\nrecherche. Son sang, qui teignait l\u2019eau, me le fit d\u00e9couvrir; et, \u00e0\nl\u2019aide d\u2019une corde dont je l\u2019entourai et que je donnai aux n\u00e8gres pour\nle haler, ils le tra\u00een\u00e8rent au rivage. L\u00e0, il se trouva que c\u2019\u00e9tait un\nl\u00e9opard des plus curieux, parfaitement mouchet\u00e9 et superbe. Les n\u00e8gres\nlevaient leurs mains dans l\u2019admiration de penser ce que pouvait \u00eatre\nce avec quoi je l\u2019avais tu\u00e9.\nL\u2019autre animal, effray\u00e9 par l\u2019\u00e9clair et la d\u00e9tonation de mon mousquet,\nregagna la rive \u00e0 la nage et s\u2019enfuit directement vers les montagnes\nd\u2019o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait venu, et je ne pus, \u00e0 cette distance, reconna\u00eetre ce\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait. Je m\u2019aper\u00e7us bient\u00f4t que les n\u00e8gres \u00e9taient dispos\u00e9s \u00e0\nmanger la chair du l\u00e9opard; aussi voulus-je le leur faire accepter\ncomme une faveur de ma part; et, quand par mes signes je leur eus fait\nsavoir qu\u2019ils pouvaient le prendre, ils en furent tr\u00e8s reconnaissants.\nAussit\u00f4t ils se mirent \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage et l\u2019\u00e9corch\u00e8rent avec un morceau\nde bois affil\u00e9, aussi promptement, m\u00eame plus promptement que nous\nne pourrions le faire avec un couteau. Ils m\u2019offrirent de sa chair;\nj\u2019\u00e9ludai cette offre, affectant de vouloir la leur abandonner; mais,\npar mes signes, leur demandant la peau, qu\u2019ils me donn\u00e8rent tr\u00e8s\nfranchement, en m\u2019apportant en outre une grande quantit\u00e9 de leurs\nvictuailles, que j\u2019acceptai, quoiqu\u2019elles me fussent inconnues. Alors\nje leur fis des signes pour avoir de l\u2019eau, et je leur montrai une de\nmes jarres en la tournant sens dessus dessous, pour faire voir qu\u2019elle\n\u00e9tait vide et que j\u2019avais besoin qu\u2019elle f\u00fbt remplie. Aussit\u00f4t ils\nappel\u00e8rent quelques-uns des leurs, et deux femmes vinrent, apportant\nun grand vase de terre qui, je le suppose, \u00e9tait cuite au soleil.\nAinsi que pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, ils le d\u00e9pos\u00e8rent, pour moi, sur le rivage.\nJ\u2019y envoyai Xury avec mes jarres, et il les remplit toutes trois.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors fourni d\u2019eau, de racines et de grains tels quels; je\npris cong\u00e9 de mes bons n\u00e8gres, et, sans m\u2019approcher du rivage, je\ncontinuai ma course pendant onze jours environ, avant que je visse\ndevant moi la terre s\u2019avancer bien avant dans l\u2019oc\u00e9an \u00e0 la distance\nenviron de quatre ou cinq lieues. Comme la mer \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s calme, je\nme mis au large pour gagner cette pointe. Enfin, la doublant \u00e0 deux\nlieues de la c\u00f4te, je vis distinctement des terres \u00e0 l\u2019opposite; alors\nje conclus, au fait cela \u00e9tait indubitable, que d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 j\u2019avais le\ncap Vert, et de l\u2019autre ces \u00eeles qui lui doivent leur nom. Toutefois\nelles \u00e9taient fort \u00e9loign\u00e9es, et je ne savais pas trop ce qu\u2019il\nfallait que je fisse; car si j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 surpris par un coup de vent,\nil m\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible d\u2019atteindre ni l\u2019un ni l\u2019autre.\nDans cette perplexit\u00e9, comme j\u2019\u00e9tais fort pensif, j\u2019entrai dans la\ncabine et je m\u2019assis, laissant \u00e0 Xury la barre du gouvernail, quand\nsubitement ce jeune gar\u00e7on s\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abMa\u00eetre! ma\u00eetre! un vaisseau\navec une voile!\u00bb\u2014La frayeur avait mis hors de lui-m\u00eame ce simple\nenfant, qui pensait qu\u2019infailliblement c\u2019\u00e9tait un des vaisseaux de son\nma\u00eetre envoy\u00e9s \u00e0 notre poursuite tandis que nous \u00e9tions, comme je ne\nl\u2019ignorais pas, tout \u00e0 fait hors de son atteinte. Je m\u2019\u00e9lan\u00e7ai de ma\ncabine, et non seulement je vis imm\u00e9diatement le navire, mais encore\nje reconnus qu\u2019il \u00e9tait portugais. Je le crus d\u2019abord destin\u00e9 \u00e0 faire\nla traite des n\u00e8gres sur la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e; mais quand j\u2019eus remarqu\u00e9\nla route qu\u2019il tenait, je fus bient\u00f4t convaincu qu\u2019il avait tout autre\ndestination, et que son dessein n\u2019\u00e9tait pas de serrer la terre. Alors,\nje portai le cap au large, et je for\u00e7ai de voile au plus pr\u00e8s, r\u00e9solu\nde lui parler s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible.\nAvec toute la voile que je pouvais faire, je vis que jamais je ne\nviendrais dans ses eaux, et qu\u2019il serait pass\u00e9 avant que je pusse\nlui donner aucun signal. Mais apr\u00e8s avoir forc\u00e9 \u00e0 tout rompre, comme\nj\u2019allais perdre esp\u00e9rance, il m\u2019aper\u00e7ut sans doute \u00e0 l\u2019aide de ses\nlunettes d\u2019approche; et, reconnaissant que c\u2019\u00e9tait une embarcation\neurop\u00e9enne, qu\u2019il supposa appartenir \u00e0 quelque vaisseau naufrag\u00e9, il\ndiminua de voiles afin que je l\u2019atteignisse. Ceci m\u2019encouragea, et\ncomme j\u2019avais \u00e0 bord le pavillon de mon patron, je le hissai en berne\nen signal de d\u00e9tresse et je tirai un coup de mousquet. Ces deux choses\nfurent remarqu\u00e9es, car j\u2019appris plus tard qu\u2019on avait vu la fum\u00e9e,\nbien qu\u2019on n\u2019e\u00fbt pas entendu la d\u00e9tonation. A ces signaux, le navire\nmit pour moi complaisamment \u00e0 la cape et cap\u00e9a. En trois heures je le\njoignis.\nOn me demanda en portugais, puis en espagnol, puis en fran\u00e7ais, qui\nj\u2019\u00e9tais; mais je ne comprenais aucune de ces langues. A la fin, un\nmatelot \u00e9cossais qui se trouvait \u00e0 bord m\u2019appela, et je lui r\u00e9pondis\net lui dis que j\u2019\u00e9tais Anglais, et que je venais de m\u2019\u00e9chapper de\nl\u2019esclavage des Maures de Sall\u00e9: alors on m\u2019invita \u00e0 venir \u00e0 bord, et\non m\u2019y re\u00e7ut tr\u00e8s obligeamment avec tous mes bagages.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais dans une joie inexprimable, comme chacun peut le croire,\nd\u2019\u00eatre ainsi d\u00e9livr\u00e9 d\u2019une condition que je regardais comme tout \u00e0\nfait mis\u00e9rable et d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e, et je m\u2019empressai d\u2019offrir au capitaine\ndu vaisseau tout ce que je poss\u00e9dais pour prix de ma d\u00e9livrance.\nMais il me r\u00e9pondit g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement qu\u2019il n\u2019accepterait rien de moi,\net que tout ce que j\u2019avais me serait rendu intact \u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e au\nBr\u00e9sil;\u2014\u00abcar, dit-il, je vous ai sauv\u00e9 la vie comme je serais fort\naise qu\u2019on me la sauv\u00e2t. Peut-\u00eatre m\u2019est-il r\u00e9serv\u00e9 une fois ou une\nautre d\u2019\u00eatre secouru dans une semblable position. En outre, en vous\nconduisant au Br\u00e9sil, \u00e0 une si grande distance de votre pays, si\nj\u2019acceptais de vous ce que vous pouvez avoir, vous y mourriez de\nfaim, et alors je vous reprendrais la vie que je vous ai donn\u00e9e. Non,\nnon, _senhor Inglez_, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire monsieur l\u2019Anglais, je veux vous y\nconduire par pure commis\u00e9ration; et ces choses-l\u00e0 vous y serviront \u00e0\npayer votre subsistance et votre travers\u00e9e de retour.\u00bb\nIl fut aussi scrupuleux dans l\u2019accomplissement de ses promesses,\nqu\u2019il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 charitable dans ses propositions; car il d\u00e9fendit aux\nmatelots de toucher \u00e0 rien de ce qui m\u2019appartenait; il prit alors le\ntout en sa garde et m\u2019en donna ensuite un exact inventaire, pour que\nje pusse tout recouvrer; tout, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 mes trois jarres de terre.\nQuant \u00e0 ma chaloupe, elle \u00e9tait fort bonne; il le vit, et me proposa\nde l\u2019acheter pour l\u2019usage de son navire, et me demanda ce que j\u2019en\nvoudrais avoir. Je lui r\u00e9pondis qu\u2019il avait \u00e9t\u00e9, \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard, trop\ng\u00e9n\u00e9reux en toutes choses, pour que je me permisse de fixer aucun\nprix, et que je m\u2019en rapporterais \u00e0 sa discr\u00e9tion. Sur quoi, il me\ndit qu\u2019il me ferait, de sa main, un billet de quatre-vingts pi\u00e8ces de\nhuit payable au Br\u00e9sil; et que si, arriv\u00e9 l\u00e0, quelqu\u2019un m\u2019en offrait\ndavantage, il me tiendrait compte de l\u2019exc\u00e9dent. Il me proposa en\noutre soixante pi\u00e8ces de huit pour mon gar\u00e7on Xury. J\u2019h\u00e9sitai \u00e0 les\naccepter; non que je r\u00e9pugnasse \u00e0 le laisser au capitaine, mais \u00e0\nvendre la libert\u00e9 de ce pauvre enfant, qui m\u2019avait aid\u00e9 si fid\u00e8lement\n\u00e0 recouvrer la mienne. Cependant, lorsque je lui eus fait savoir ma\nraison, il la reconnut juste, et me proposa, pour accommodement, de\ndonner au jeune gar\u00e7on une obligation de le rendre libre au bout de\ndix ans s\u2019il voulait se faire chr\u00e9tien. Sur cela, Xury consentant \u00e0 le\nsuivre, je l\u2019abandonnai au capitaine.\nNous e\u00fbmes une tr\u00e8s heureuse navigation jusqu\u2019au Br\u00e9sil, et nous\narriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 la _Bahia de Todos os Santos_, ou Baie de Tous-les-Saints,\nenviron vingt-deux jours apr\u00e8s. J\u2019\u00e9tais alors, pour la seconde fois,\nd\u00e9livr\u00e9 de la plus mis\u00e9rable de toutes les conditions de la vie, et\nj\u2019avais alors \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ce que prochainement je devais faire de moi.\nLa g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse conduite du capitaine \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard ne saurait \u00eatre trop\nlou\u00e9e. Il ne voulut rien recevoir pour mon passage; il me donna vingt\nducats pour la peau du l\u00e9opard et quarante pour la peau du lion que\nj\u2019avais dans ma chaloupe. Il me fit remettre ponctuellement tout ce\nqui m\u2019appartenait en son vaisseau, et tout ce que j\u2019\u00e9tais dispos\u00e9 \u00e0\nvendre il me l\u2019acheta; tel que le bahut aux bouteilles, deux de mes\nmousquets et un morceau restant du bloc de cire vierge, dont j\u2019avais\nfait des chandelles. En un mot, je tirai environ deux cent vingt\npi\u00e8ces de huit de toute ma cargaison, et, avec ce capital, je mis pied\n\u00e0 terre au Br\u00e9sil.\nL\u00e0, peu de temps apr\u00e8s, le capitaine me recommanda dans la maison d\u2019un\ntr\u00e8s honn\u00eate homme, comme lui-m\u00eame, qui avait ce qu\u2019on appelle un\n_engenho_[7], c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire une plantation et une sucrerie. Je v\u00e9cus\nquelque temps chez lui, et, par ce moyen, je pris connaissance de\nla mani\u00e8re de planter et de faire le sucre. Voyant la bonne vie que\nmenaient les planteurs, et combien ils s\u2019enrichissaient promptement,\nje r\u00e9solus, si je pouvais en obtenir la licence, de m\u2019\u00e9tablir parmi\neux, et de me faire planteur, prenant en m\u00eame temps la d\u00e9termination\nde chercher quelque moyen pour recouvrer l\u2019argent que j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9\n\u00e0 Londres. Dans ce dessein, ayant obtenu une sorte de lettre de\nnaturalisation, j\u2019achetai autant de terre inculte que mon argent me le\npermit, et je formai un plan pour ma plantation et mon \u00e9tablissement\nproportionn\u00e9 \u00e0 la somme que j\u2019esp\u00e9rais recevoir de Londres.\nJ\u2019avais un voisin, un Portugais de Lisbonne, mais n\u00e9 de parents\nanglais; son nom \u00e9tait Wells, et il se trouvait \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s dans\nles m\u00eames circonstances que moi. Je l\u2019appelle voisin parce que sa\nplantation \u00e9tait proche de la mienne, et que nous vivions tr\u00e8s\namicalement. Mon avoir \u00e9tait mince aussi bien que le sien; et,\npendant environ deux ann\u00e9es, nous ne plant\u00e2mes gu\u00e8re que pour notre\nnourriture. Toutefois nous commencions \u00e0 faire des progr\u00e8s, et notre\nterre commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se bonifier; si bien que la troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e nous\nsem\u00e2mes du tabac et appr\u00eat\u00e2mes l\u2019un et l\u2019autre une grande pi\u00e8ce de\nterre pour planter des cannes \u00e0 sucre l\u2019ann\u00e9e suivante. Mais tous\nles deux nous avions besoin d\u2019aide; alors je sentis plus que jamais\ncombien j\u2019avais eu tort de me s\u00e9parer de mon gar\u00e7on Xury.\nMais h\u00e9las! avoir fait mal, pour moi qui ne faisais jamais bien, ce\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas chose \u00e9tonnante; il n\u2019y avait d\u2019autre rem\u00e8de que de\npoursuivre. Je m\u2019\u00e9tais impos\u00e9 une occupation tout \u00e0 fait \u00e9loign\u00e9e de\nmon esprit naturel, et enti\u00e8rement contraire \u00e0 la vie que j\u2019aimais et\npour laquelle j\u2019avais abandonn\u00e9 la maison de mon p\u00e8re et m\u00e9pris\u00e9 tous\nses bons avis; car j\u2019entrais pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment dans la condition moyenne, ce\npremier rang de la vie inf\u00e9rieure qu\u2019autrefois il m\u2019avait recommand\u00e9,\net que, r\u00e9solu \u00e0 suivre, j\u2019eusse pu de m\u00eame trouver chez nous sans\nm\u2019\u00eatre fatigu\u00e9 \u00e0 courir le monde. Souvent, je me disais:\u2014\u00abCe que je\nfais ici, j\u2019aurais pu le faire tout aussi bien en Angleterre, au\nmilieu de mes amis; il \u00e9tait inutile pour cela de parcourir deux mille\nlieues, et de venir parmi des \u00e9trangers, des sauvages, dans un d\u00e9sert,\net \u00e0 une telle distance que je ne puis recevoir de nouvelles d\u2019aucun\nlieu du monde, o\u00f9 l\u2019on a la moindre connaissance de moi.\u00bb\nAinsi j\u2019avais coutume de consid\u00e9rer ma position avec le plus grand\nregret. Je n\u2019avais personne avec qui converser, que de temps en temps\nmon voisin: point d\u2019autre ouvrage \u00e0 faire que par le travail de mes\nmains, et je me disais souvent que je vivais tout \u00e0 fait comme un\nnaufrag\u00e9 jet\u00e9 sur quelque \u00eele d\u00e9serte et enti\u00e8rement livr\u00e9 \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame.\nCombien il a \u00e9t\u00e9 juste, et combien tout homme devrait r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir que\ntandis qu\u2019il compare sa situation pr\u00e9sente \u00e0 d\u2019autres qui sont pires,\nle ciel pourrait l\u2019obliger \u00e0 en faire l\u2019\u00e9change, et le convaincre, par\nsa propre exp\u00e9rience, de sa f\u00e9licit\u00e9 premi\u00e8re: combien il a \u00e9t\u00e9 juste,\ndis-je, que cette vie r\u00e9ellement solitaire, dans une \u00eele r\u00e9ellement\nd\u00e9serte, et dont je m\u2019\u00e9tais plaint, dev\u00eent mon lot; moi qui l\u2019avais\nsi souvent injustement compar\u00e9e avec la vie que je menais alors, qui,\nsi j\u2019avais pers\u00e9v\u00e9r\u00e9, m\u2019e\u00fbt en toute probabilit\u00e9 conduit \u00e0 une grande\nprosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 et \u00e0 une grande richesse.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s bas\u00e9 sur les mesures relatives \u00e0 la conduite\nde ma plantation, avant que mon gracieux ami le capitaine du\nvaisseau, qui m\u2019avait recueilli en mer, s\u2019en retourn\u00e2t; car son\nnavire demeura environ trois mois \u00e0 faire son chargement et ses\npr\u00e9paratifs de voyage. Lorsque je lui parlai du petit capital que\nj\u2019avais laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re moi \u00e0 Londres, il me donna cet amical et\nsinc\u00e8re conseil:\u2014\u00abSENHOR INGLEZ[8], me dit-il, car il m\u2019appelait\ntoujours ainsi,\u2014si vous voulez me donner, pour moi, une procuration\nen forme, et pour la personne d\u00e9positaire de votre argent, \u00e0 Londres,\ndes lettres et des ordres d\u2019envoyer vos fonds \u00e0 Lisbonne, \u00e0 telles\npersonnes que je vous d\u00e9signerai, et en telles marchandises qui sont\nconvenables \u00e0 ce pays-ci, je vous les apporterai, si Dieu veut, \u00e0 mon\nretour; mais comme les choses humaines sont toutes sujettes aux revers\net aux d\u00e9sastres, veuillez ne me remettre des ordres que pour une\ncentaine de livres sterling, que vous dites \u00eatre la moiti\u00e9 de votre\nfonds, et que vous hasarderez premi\u00e8rement; si bien que si cela arrive\n\u00e0 bon port, vous pourrez ordonner du reste pareillement; mais si cela\n\u00e9choue, vous pourrez, au besoin, avoir recours \u00e0 la seconde moiti\u00e9.\u00bb\nCe conseil \u00e9tait salutaire et plein de consid\u00e9rations amicales; je fus\nconvaincu que c\u2019\u00e9tait le meilleur parti \u00e0 prendre; et, en cons\u00e9quence,\nje pr\u00e9parai des lettres pour la dame \u00e0 qui j\u2019avais confi\u00e9 mon argent,\net une procuration pour le capitaine, ainsi qu\u2019il le d\u00e9sirait.\nJ\u2019\u00e9crivis \u00e0 la veuve du capitaine anglais une relation de toutes mes\naventures, mon esclavage, mon \u00e9vasion, ma rencontre en mer avec le\ncapitaine portugais, l\u2019humanit\u00e9 de sa conduite, l\u2019\u00e9tat dans lequel\nj\u2019\u00e9tais alors, avec toutes les instructions n\u00e9cessaires pour la remise\nde mes fonds; et, lorsque cet honn\u00eate capitaine fut arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 Lisbonne,\nil trouva moyen, par l\u2019entremise d\u2019un des Anglais n\u00e9gociants en cette\nville, d\u2019envoyer non seulement l\u2019ordre, mais un r\u00e9cit complet de mon\nhistoire, \u00e0 un marchand de Londres, qui le reporta si efficacement\n\u00e0 la veuve, que non seulement elle d\u00e9livra mon argent, mais, de sa\npropre cassette, elle envoya au capitaine portugais un tr\u00e8s riche\ncadeau, pour son humanit\u00e9 et sa charit\u00e9 envers moi.\nLe marchand de Londres convertit les cent livres sterling en\nmarchandises anglaises, ainsi que le capitaine le lui avait \u00e9crit,\net il les lui envoya en droiture \u00e0 Lisbonne, d\u2019o\u00f9 il me les apporta\ntoutes en bon \u00e9tat au Br\u00e9sil; parmi elles, sans ma recommandation,\u2014car\nj\u2019\u00e9tais trop novice en mes affaires pour y avoir song\u00e9,\u2014il avait\npris soin de mettre toutes sortes d\u2019outils, d\u2019instruments de fer et\nd\u2019ustensiles n\u00e9cessaires pour ma plantation, qui me furent d\u2019un grand\nusage.\nJe fus surpris agr\u00e9ablement quand cette cargaison arriva, et je crus\nma fortune faite. Mon bon munitionnaire le capitaine avait d\u00e9pens\u00e9\nles cinq livres sterling que mon amie lui avait envoy\u00e9es en pr\u00e9sent,\n\u00e0 me louer, pour le terme de six ann\u00e9es, un serviteur qu\u2019il m\u2019amena,\net il ne voulut rien accepter sous aucune consid\u00e9ration, si ce n\u2019est\nun peu de tabac, que je l\u2019obligeai \u00e0 recevoir comme \u00e9tant de ma propre\nr\u00e9colte.\nCe ne fut pas tout; comme mes marchandises \u00e9taient toutes de\nmanufactures anglaises, tels que draps, \u00e9toffes, flanelle et autres\nchoses particuli\u00e8rement estim\u00e9es et recherch\u00e9es dans le pays, je\ntrouvai moyen de les vendre tr\u00e8s avantageusement, si bien que je puis\ndire que je quadruplai la valeur de ma cargaison, et je fus alors\ninfiniment au-dessus de mon pauvre voisin, quant \u00e0 la prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 de\nma plantation, car la premi\u00e8re chose que je fis ce fut d\u2019acheter un\nesclave n\u00e8gre, et de louer un serviteur europ\u00e9en; un autre, veux-je\ndire, outre celui que le capitaine m\u2019avait amen\u00e9 de Lisbonne.\n[Illustration: La premi\u00e8re chose que je fis ce fut d\u2019acheter un\nesclave n\u00e8gre.]\nMais le mauvais usage de la prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 est souvent la vraie cause\nde nos plus grandes adversit\u00e9s; il en fut ainsi pour moi. J\u2019eus,\nl\u2019ann\u00e9e suivante, beaucoup de succ\u00e8s dans ma plantation; je r\u00e9coltai\nsur mon propre terrain cinquante gros rouleaux de tabac, non compris\nce que, pour mon n\u00e9cessaire, j\u2019en avais \u00e9chang\u00e9 avec mes voisins,\net ces cinquante rouleaux pesant chacun environ cent livres, furent\nbien confectionn\u00e9s et mis en r\u00e9serve pour le retour de la flotte de\nLisbonne. Alors, mes affaires et mes richesses augmentant, ma t\u00eate\ncommen\u00e7a \u00e0 \u00eatre pleine d\u2019entreprises au del\u00e0 de ma port\u00e9e, semblables\n\u00e0 celles qui souvent causent la ruine des plus habiles sp\u00e9culateurs.\nSi je m\u2019\u00e9tais maintenu dans la position o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais alors, j\u2019eusse\npu m\u2019attendre encore \u00e0 toutes les choses heureuses pour lesquelles\nmon p\u00e8re m\u2019avait si express\u00e9ment recommand\u00e9 une vie tranquille et\nretir\u00e9e, et desquelles il m\u2019avait si justement dit que la condition\nmoyenne \u00e9tait remplie. Mais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas l\u00e0 mon sort; je devais\n\u00eatre derechef l\u2019agent obstin\u00e9 de mes propres mis\u00e8res; je devais\naccro\u00eetre ma faute, et doubler les reproches que dans mes afflictions\nfutures j\u2019aurais le loisir de me faire. Toutes ces infortunes prirent\nleur source dans mon attachement manifeste et opini\u00e2tre \u00e0 ma folle\ninclination de courir le monde, et dans mon abandon \u00e0 cette passion,\ncontrairement \u00e0 la plus \u00e9vidente perspective d\u2019arriver \u00e0 bien par\nl\u2019honn\u00eate et simple poursuite de ce but et de ce genre de vie, que la\nnature et la Providence concouraient \u00e0 m\u2019offrir pour l\u2019accomplissement\nde mes devoirs.\nComme lors de ma rupture avec mes parents, de m\u00eame alors je ne\npouvais plus \u00eatre satisfait, et il fallait que je m\u2019en allasse et\nque j\u2019abandonnasse l\u2019heureuse esp\u00e9rance que j\u2019avais de faire bien\nmes affaires et de devenir riche dans ma nouvelle plantation,\nseulement pour suivre un d\u00e9sir t\u00e9m\u00e9raire et immod\u00e9r\u00e9 de m\u2019\u00e9lever plus\npromptement que la nature des choses ne l\u2019admettait. Ainsi je me\nreplongeai dans le plus profond gouffre de mis\u00e8re humaine o\u00f9 l\u2019homme\npuisse jamais tomber, et le seul peut-\u00eatre qui lui laisse la vie et un\n\u00e9tat de sant\u00e9 dans le monde.\nPour arriver maintenant par degr\u00e9s aux particularit\u00e9s de cette partie\nde mon histoire, vous devez supposer qu\u2019ayant alors v\u00e9cu \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\nquatre ann\u00e9es au Br\u00e9sil, et commen\u00e7ant \u00e0 prosp\u00e9rer et \u00e0 m\u2019enrichir\ndans ma plantation, non seulement j\u2019avais appris le portugais,\nmais que j\u2019avais li\u00e9 connaissance et amiti\u00e9 avec mes confr\u00e8res les\nplanteurs, ainsi qu\u2019avec les marchands de San-Salvador, qui \u00e9tait\nnotre port. Dans mes conversations avec eux, j\u2019avais fr\u00e9quemment fait\nle r\u00e9cit de mes deux voyages sur la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e, de la mani\u00e8re d\u2019y\ntrafiquer avec les n\u00e8gres, et de la facilit\u00e9 d\u2019y acheter pour des\nbabioles, telles que des grains de collier[9], des breloques, des\ncouteaux, des ciseaux, des haches, des morceaux de glace et autres\nchoses semblables, non seulement de la poudre d\u2019or, des graines de\nGuin\u00e9e, des dents d\u2019\u00e9l\u00e9phant, etc., mais des n\u00e8gres pour le service du\nBr\u00e9sil, et en grand nombre.\nIls \u00e9coutaient toujours tr\u00e8s attentivement mes discours sur ce\nchapitre, mais plus sp\u00e9cialement la partie o\u00f9 je parlais de la traite\ndes n\u00e8gres, trafic non seulement peu avanc\u00e9 \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque, mais qui,\ntel qu\u2019il \u00e9tait, n\u2019avait jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 fait qu\u2019avec les _Asientos_,\nou permission des rois d\u2019Espagne et de Portugal, qui en avaient le\nmonopole public, de sorte qu\u2019on achetait peu de n\u00e8gres, et qu\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient excessivement chers.\nIl advint qu\u2019une fois, me trouvant en compagnie avec des marchands\net des planteurs de ma connaissance, je parlai de tout cela\npassionn\u00e9ment; trois d\u2019entre eux vinrent aupr\u00e8s de moi le lendemain au\nmatin, et me dirent qu\u2019ils avaient beaucoup song\u00e9 \u00e0 ce dont je m\u2019\u00e9tais\nentretenu avec eux la soir\u00e9e pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente, et qu\u2019ils venaient me faire\nune secr\u00e8te proposition.\nIls me d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent, apr\u00e8s m\u2019avoir recommand\u00e9 la discr\u00e9tion, qu\u2019ils\navaient le dessein d\u2019\u00e9quiper un vaisseau pour la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e.\u2014\u00abNous\navons tous, comme vous, des plantations, ajout\u00e8rent-ils, et nous\nn\u2019avons rien tant besoin que d\u2019esclaves; mais comme nous ne pouvons\npas entreprendre ce commerce, puisqu\u2019on ne peut vendre publiquement\nles n\u00e8gres lorsqu\u2019ils sont d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s, nous ne d\u00e9sirons faire qu\u2019un\nseul voyage, pour en ramener secr\u00e8tement et les r\u00e9partir sur nos\nplantations.\u00bb\u2014En un mot, la question \u00e9tait que si je voulais aller \u00e0\nbord comme leur _subr\u00e9cargue_, pour diriger la traite sur la c\u00f4te\nde Guin\u00e9e, j\u2019aurais ma portion contingente de n\u00e8gres sans fournir ma\nquote-part d\u2019argent.\nC\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 une belle proposition, il faut en convenir, si elle avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 faite \u00e0 quelqu\u2019un qui n\u2019e\u00fbt pas eu \u00e0 gouverner un \u00e9tablissement\net une plantation \u00e0 soi appartenant, en beau chemin de devenir\nconsid\u00e9rables et d\u2019un excellent rapport; mais pour moi, qui \u00e9tais\nainsi engag\u00e9 et \u00e9tabli, qui n\u2019avais qu\u2019\u00e0 poursuivre, comme j\u2019avais\ncommenc\u00e9, pendant trois ou quatre ans encore, et qu\u2019\u00e0 faire venir\nd\u2019Angleterre mes autres cent livres sterling restant, pour \u00eatre alors,\navec cette petite addition, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s possesseur de trois ou quatre\nmille livres, qui accro\u00eetraient encore chaque jour; mais pour moi,\ndis-je, penser \u00e0 un pareil voyage, c\u2019\u00e9tait la plus absurde chose\ndont un homme plac\u00e9 en de semblables circonstances pouvait se rendre\ncoupable.\nMais comme j\u2019\u00e9tais n\u00e9 pour \u00eatre mon propre destructeur, il me fut\naussi impossible de r\u00e9sister \u00e0 cette offre, qu\u2019il me l\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de\nma\u00eetriser mes premi\u00e8res id\u00e9es vagabondes lorsque les bons conseils de\nmon p\u00e8re \u00e9chou\u00e8rent contre moi. En un mot, je leur dis que j\u2019irais de\ntout mon c\u0153ur s\u2019ils voulaient se charger de conduire ma plantation\ndurant mon absence, et en disposer ainsi que je l\u2019ordonnerais si je\nvenais \u00e0 faire naufrage. Ils me le promirent, et ils s\u2019y engag\u00e8rent\npar \u00e9crit ou par convention, et je fis un testament formel, disposant\nde ma plantation et de mes effets, en cas de mort, et instituant mon\nl\u00e9gataire universel le capitaine de vaisseau qui m\u2019avait sauv\u00e9 la vie,\ncomme je l\u2019ai narr\u00e9 plus haut, mais l\u2019obligeant \u00e0 disposer de mes\nbiens suivant que je l\u2019avais prescrit dans mon testament, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\nqu\u2019il se r\u00e9serverait pour lui-m\u00eame une moiti\u00e9 de leur produit, et que\nl\u2019autre moiti\u00e9 serait embarqu\u00e9e pour l\u2019Angleterre.\nBref, je pris toutes pr\u00e9cautions possibles pour garantir mes biens et\nentretenir ma plantation. Si j\u2019avais us\u00e9 de moiti\u00e9 autant de prudence\n\u00e0 consid\u00e9rer mon propre int\u00e9r\u00eat, et \u00e0 me former un jugement de ce\nque je devais faire ou ne pas faire, je ne me serais certainement\njamais \u00e9loign\u00e9 d\u2019une entreprise aussi florissante; je n\u2019aurais\npoint abandonn\u00e9 toutes les chances probables de m\u2019enrichir, pour un\nvoyage sur mer o\u00f9 je serais expos\u00e9 \u00e0 tous les hasards communs, pour\nne rien dire des raisons que j\u2019avais de m\u2019attendre \u00e0 des infortunes\npersonnelles.\nMais j\u2019\u00e9tais entra\u00een\u00e9, et j\u2019ob\u00e9is aveugl\u00e9ment \u00e0 ce que me dictait mon\ngo\u00fbt plut\u00f4t que ma raison. Le b\u00e2timent \u00e9tant \u00e9quip\u00e9 convenablement,\nla cargaison fournie et toutes choses faites suivant l\u2019accord, par\nmes partenaires dans ce voyage, je m\u2019embarquai \u00e0 la _maleheure_, le\n1er septembre, huit ans apr\u00e8s, jour pour jour, qu\u2019\u00e0 Hull je m\u2019\u00e9tais\n\u00e9loign\u00e9 de mon p\u00e8re et de ma m\u00e8re pour faire le rebelle \u00e0 leur\nautorit\u00e9, et le fou quant \u00e0 mes propres int\u00e9r\u00eats.\nNotre vaisseau, d\u2019environ cent vingt tonneaux, portait six canons et\nquatorze hommes, non compris le capitaine, son valet et moi. Nous\nn\u2019avions gu\u00e8re \u00e0 bord d\u2019autre cargaison de marchandises que des\n_clincailleries_ convenables pour notre commerce avec les n\u00e8gres, tels\nque des grains de collier[10], des morceaux de verre, des coquilles,\nde m\u00e9chantes babioles, surtout de petits miroirs, des couteaux, des\nciseaux, des cogn\u00e9es et autres choses semblables.\nLe jour m\u00eame o\u00f9 j\u2019allai \u00e0 bord, nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 la voile, faisant\nroute au nord le long de notre c\u00f4te, dans le dessein de cingler\nvers celle d\u2019Afrique, quand nous serions par les dix ou onze degr\u00e9s\nde latitude septentrionale; c\u2019\u00e9tait, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, la mani\u00e8re\nde faire ce trajet \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque. Nous e\u00fbmes un fort bon temps,\nmais excessivement chaud, tout le long de notre c\u00f4te jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la\nhauteur du cap Saint-Augustin, o\u00f9, gagnant le large, nous noy\u00e2mes\nla terre et port\u00e2mes le cap, comme si nous \u00e9tions charg\u00e9s pour\nl\u2019\u00eele Fernando-Noronha; mais, tenant notre course au nord-est quart\nnord, nous laiss\u00e2mes \u00e0 l\u2019est cette \u00eele et ses adjacentes. Apr\u00e8s une\nnavigation d\u2019environ douze jours, nous avions doubl\u00e9 la ligne et nous\n\u00e9tions, suivant notre derni\u00e8re estime, par les sept degr\u00e9s vingt-deux\nminutes de latitude nord, quand un violent tourbillon ou un ouragan\nnous d\u00e9sorienta enti\u00e8rement. Il commen\u00e7a du sud-est, tourna \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\nau nord-ouest, et enfin se fixa au nord-est, d\u2019o\u00f9 il se d\u00e9cha\u00eena d\u2019une\nmani\u00e8re si terrible, que pendant douze jours de suite nous ne f\u00eemes\nque d\u00e9river, courant devant lui et nous laissant emporter partout o\u00f9\nla fatalit\u00e9 et la furie des vents nous poussaient. Durant ces douze\njours, je n\u2019ai pas besoin de dire que je m\u2019attendais \u00e0 chaque instant\n\u00e0 \u00eatre englouti; au fait, personne sur le vaisseau n\u2019esp\u00e9rait sauver\nsa vie.\nDans cette d\u00e9tresse, nous e\u00fbmes, outre la terreur de la temp\u00eate, un\nde nos hommes mort de la calenture, et un matelot et le domestique\nemport\u00e9s par une lame. Vers le douzi\u00e8me jour, le vent mollissant un\npeu, le capitaine prit hauteur, le mieux qu\u2019il put, et estima qu\u2019il\n\u00e9tait environ par les onze degr\u00e9s de latitude nord, mais qu\u2019avec\nle cap Saint-Augustin il avait vingt-deux degr\u00e9s de diff\u00e9rence en\nlongitude ouest; de sorte qu\u2019il se trouva avoir gagn\u00e9 la c\u00f4te de la\nGuyane, ou partie septentrionale du Br\u00e9sil, au del\u00e0 du fleuve des\nAmazones, vers l\u2019Or\u00e9noque, commun\u00e9ment appel\u00e9 la GRANDE RIVI\u00c8RE. Il\ncommen\u00e7a \u00e0 consulter avec moi sur la route qu\u2019il devait prendre,\ncar le navire faisait plusieurs voies d\u2019eau et \u00e9tait tout \u00e0 fait\nd\u00e9sempar\u00e9. Il opinait pour rebrousser directement vers les c\u00f4tes du\nBr\u00e9sil.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais d\u2019un avis positivement contraire. Apr\u00e8s avoir examin\u00e9 avec lui\nles cartes des c\u00f4tes maritimes de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique, nous concl\u00fbmes qu\u2019il n\u2019y\navait point de pays habit\u00e9 o\u00f9 nous pourrions rel\u00e2cher avant que nous\neussions atteint l\u2019archipel des Cara\u00efbes. Nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes donc de faire\nvoile vers la Barbade, o\u00f9 nous esp\u00e9rions, en gardant la haute mer pour\n\u00e9viter l\u2019entr\u00e9e du golfe du Mexique, pouvoir ais\u00e9ment parvenir en\nquinze jours de navigation, d\u2019autant qu\u2019il nous \u00e9tait impossible de\nfaire notre voyage \u00e0 la c\u00f4te d\u2019Afrique sans des secours, et pour notre\nvaisseau et pour nous-m\u00eames.\n[Illustration: Apr\u00e8s avoir examin\u00e9 avec lui les cartes...]\nDans ce dessein, nous change\u00e2mes de route, et nous gouvern\u00e2mes\nnord-ouest quart ouest, afin d\u2019atteindre une de nos \u00eeles anglaises,\no\u00f9 je comptais recevoir quelque assistance. Mais il en devait \u00eatre\nautrement; car, par les douze degr\u00e9s dix-huit minutes de latitude,\nnous f\u00fbmes assaillis par une seconde temp\u00eate qui nous emporta avec la\nm\u00eame imp\u00e9tuosit\u00e9 vers l\u2019ouest, et nous poussa si loin hors de toute\nroute fr\u00e9quent\u00e9e, que si nos existences avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9es quant \u00e0 la\nmer, nous aurions eu plut\u00f4t la chance d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les sauvages\nque celle de retourner en notre pays.\nEn ces extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s, le vent soufflait toujours avec violence, et \u00e0\nla pointe du jour un de nos hommes s\u2019\u00e9cria: TERRE! A peine nous\n\u00e9tions-nous pr\u00e9cipit\u00e9s hors de la cabine, pour regarder dans l\u2019espoir\nde reconna\u00eetre en quel endroit du monde nous \u00e9tions, que notre navire\ndonna contre un banc de sable: son mouvement \u00e9tant ainsi subitement\narr\u00eat\u00e9, la mer d\u00e9ferla sur lui d\u2019une telle mani\u00e8re, que nous nous\nattend\u00eemes tous \u00e0 p\u00e9rir sur l\u2019heure et que nous nous r\u00e9fugi\u00e2mes vers\nle gaillard d\u2019arri\u00e8re, pour nous mettre \u00e0 l\u2019abri de l\u2019\u00e9cume et des\n\u00e9claboussures des vagues.\nIl serait difficile \u00e0 quelqu\u2019un qui ne se serait pas trouv\u00e9 en une\npareille situation, de d\u00e9crire ou de concevoir la consternation d\u2019un\n\u00e9quipage dans de telles circonstances. Nous ne savions ni o\u00f9 nous\n\u00e9tions, ni vers quelle terre nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 pouss\u00e9s, ni si c\u2019\u00e9tait\nune \u00eele ou un continent, ni si elle \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e ou inhabit\u00e9e. Et\ncomme la fureur du vent \u00e9tait toujours grande, quoique moindre, nous\nne pouvions pas m\u00eame esp\u00e9rer que le navire demeurerait quelques\nminutes sans se briser en morceaux, \u00e0 moins que les vents, par une\nsorte de miracle, ne changeassent subitement. En un mot, nous nous\nregardions les uns les autres, attendant la mort \u00e0 chaque instant,\net nous pr\u00e9parant tous pour un autre monde, car il ne nous restait\nrien ou que peu de chose \u00e0 faire en celui-ci. Toute notre consolation\npr\u00e9sente, tout notre r\u00e9confort, c\u2019\u00e9tait que le vaisseau, contrairement\n\u00e0 notre attente, ne se brisait pas encore, et que le capitaine disait\nque le vent commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 s\u2019abattre. Bien que nous nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes en\neffet que le vent s\u2019\u00e9tait un peu apais\u00e9, n\u00e9anmoins notre vaisseau,\nainsi \u00e9chou\u00e9 sur le sable, \u00e9tant trop engrav\u00e9 pour esp\u00e9rer de le\nremettre \u00e0 flot, nous \u00e9tions vraiment dans une situation horrible, et\nil ne nous restait plus qu\u2019\u00e0 songer \u00e0 sauver notre vie du mieux que\nnous pourrions. Nous avions un canot \u00e0 notre poupe avant la tourmente,\nmais d\u2019abord il s\u2019\u00e9tait d\u00e9fonc\u00e9 \u00e0 force de heurter contre le\ngouvernail du navire, et, ensuite, ayant rompu ses amarres, il avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 englouti ou emport\u00e9 au loin \u00e0 la d\u00e9rive; nous ne pouvions donc pas\ncompter sur lui. Nous avions bien encore une chaloupe \u00e0 bord, mais la\nmettre \u00e0 la mer \u00e9tait chose difficile; cependant il n\u2019y avait pas \u00e0\ntergiverser, car nous nous imaginions \u00e0 chaque minute que le vaisseau\nse brisait, et m\u00eame quelques-uns de nous affirmaient que d\u00e9j\u00e0 il \u00e9tait\nentr\u2019ouvert.\nAlors notre second se saisit de la chaloupe, et, avec l\u2019aide des\nmatelots, elle fut lanc\u00e9e par-dessus le flanc du navire. Nous y\ndescend\u00eemes tous, nous abandonnant, onze que nous \u00e9tions, \u00e0 la\nmerci de Dieu et de la temp\u00eate; car, bien que la tourmente f\u00fbt\nconsid\u00e9rablement apais\u00e9e, la mer, n\u00e9anmoins, s\u2019\u00e9levait \u00e0 une hauteur\neffroyable contre le rivage, et pouvait bien \u00eatre appel\u00e9e _Den Wild\nZee_,\u2014la mer sauvage,\u2014comme les Hollandais l\u2019appellent lorsqu\u2019elle est\norageuse.\nNotre situation \u00e9tait alors vraiment d\u00e9plorable, nous voyions tous\npleinement que la mer \u00e9tait trop grosse pour que notre embarcation\np\u00fbt r\u00e9sister, et qu\u2019in\u00e9vitablement nous serions engloutis. Comment\ncingler? Nous n\u2019avions pas de voiles, et nous en aurions eu que nous\nn\u2019en aurions rien pu faire. Nous nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 ramer vers la terre,\nmais avec le c\u0153ur gros et comme des hommes marchant au supplice. Aucun\nde nous n\u2019ignorait que la chaloupe, en abordant, serait bris\u00e9e en\nmille pi\u00e8ces par le choc de la mer. N\u00e9anmoins, apr\u00e8s avoir recommand\u00e9\nnos \u00e2mes \u00e0 Dieu de la mani\u00e8re la plus fervente, nous h\u00e2t\u00e2mes de nos\npropres mains notre destruction en ramant de toutes nos forces vers\nla terre o\u00f9 d\u00e9j\u00e0 le vent nous poussait. Le rivage \u00e9tait-il du roc\nou du sable, \u00e9tait-il plat ou escarp\u00e9? Nous l\u2019ignorions. Il ne nous\nrestait qu\u2019une faible lueur d\u2019espoir, c\u2019\u00e9tait d\u2019atteindre une baie,\nune embouchure de fleuve, o\u00f9 par un grand bonheur nous pourrions faire\nentrer notre barque, l\u2019abriter du vent, et peut-\u00eatre m\u00eame trouver le\ncalme. Mais rien de tout cela n\u2019apparaissait; mais \u00e0 mesure que nous\napprochions de la rive, la terre nous semblait plus redoutable que la\nmer.\n[Illustration: Nous h\u00e2t\u00e2mes de nos propres mains notre destruction.]\nApr\u00e8s avoir ram\u00e9, ou plut\u00f4t d\u00e9riv\u00e9 pendant une lieue et demie, \u00e0 ce\nque nous jugions, une vague furieuse, s\u2019\u00e9levant comme une montagne,\nvint, en roulant \u00e0 notre arri\u00e8re, nous annoncer notre coup de gr\u00e2ce.\nBref, elle nous saisit avec tant de furie que d\u2019un seul coup elle fit\nchavirer la chaloupe et nous en jeta loin, s\u00e9par\u00e9s les uns des autres,\nen nous laissant \u00e0 peine le temps de dire: O mon Dieu! car nous f\u00fbmes\ntous engloutis en un moment.\nRien ne saurait retracer quelle \u00e9tait la confusion de mes pens\u00e9es\nlorsque j\u2019allai au fond de l\u2019eau. Quoique je nageasse tr\u00e8s bien, il me\nfut impossible de me d\u00e9livrer des flots pour prendre respiration. La\nvague, m\u2019ayant port\u00e9 ou plut\u00f4t emport\u00e9 \u00e0 une longue distance vers le\nrivage, et s\u2019\u00e9tant \u00e9tal\u00e9e et retir\u00e9e, me laissa presque \u00e0 sec, mais\n\u00e0 demi \u00e9touff\u00e9 par l\u2019eau que j\u2019avais aval\u00e9e. Me voyant plus pr\u00e8s de\nla terre ferme que je ne m\u2019y \u00e9tais attendu, j\u2019eus assez de pr\u00e9sence\nd\u2019esprit et de force pour me dresser sur mes pieds, et m\u2019efforcer\nde gagner le rivage, avant qu\u2019une autre vague rev\u00eent et m\u2019enlev\u00e2t.\nMais je sentis bient\u00f4t que c\u2019\u00e9tait impossible, car je vis la mer\ns\u2019avancer derri\u00e8re moi furieuse et aussi haute qu\u2019une grande montagne.\nJe n\u2019avais ni le moyen ni la force de combattre cet ennemi; ma seule\nressource \u00e9tait de retenir mon haleine, et de m\u2019\u00e9lever au-dessus de\nl\u2019eau, et en surnageant ainsi de pr\u00e9server ma respiration, et de\nvoguer vers la c\u00f4te, s\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait possible. J\u2019appr\u00e9hendais par-dessus\ntout que le flot, apr\u00e8s m\u2019avoir transport\u00e9, en venant, vers le rivage,\nne me rejet\u00e2t dans la mer en s\u2019en retournant.\nLa vague qui revint sur moi m\u2019ensevelit tout d\u2019un coup, dans sa propre\nmasse, \u00e0 la profondeur de vingt ou trente pieds; je me sentais emport\u00e9\navec une violence et une rapidit\u00e9 extr\u00eames \u00e0 une grande distance du\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 de la terre. Je retenais mon souffle, et je nageais de toutes\nmes forces. Mais j\u2019\u00e9tais pr\u00e8s d\u2019\u00e9touffer, faute de respiration, quand\nje me sentis remonter, et quand, \u00e0 mon grand soulagement, ma t\u00eate\net mes mains perc\u00e8rent au-dessus de l\u2019eau. Il me fut impossible de\nme maintenir ainsi plus de deux secondes, cependant cela me fit un\nbien extr\u00eame, en me redonnant de l\u2019air et du courage. Je fus derechef\ncouvert d\u2019eau assez longtemps, mais je tins bon; et, sentant que la\nlame \u00e9talait et qu\u2019elle commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 refluer, je coupai \u00e0 travers\nles vagues et je repris pied. Pendant quelques instants je demeurai\ntranquille pour prendre haleine, et pour attendre que les eaux se\nfussent \u00e9loign\u00e9es. Puis, alors, prenant mon \u00e9lan, je courus \u00e0 toutes\njambes vers le rivage. Mais cet effort ne put me d\u00e9livrer de la furie\nde la mer, qui revenait fondre sur moi; et, par deux fois, les vagues\nm\u2019enlev\u00e8rent, et, comme pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, m\u2019entra\u00een\u00e8rent au loin, le\nrivage \u00e9tant tout \u00e0 fait plat.\nLa derni\u00e8re de ces deux fois avait \u00e9t\u00e9 bien pr\u00e8s de m\u2019\u00eatre fatale;\ncar la mer m\u2019ayant emport\u00e9 ainsi qu\u2019auparavant, elle me mit \u00e0 terre\nou plut\u00f4t elle me jeta contre un quartier de roc, et avec une telle\nforce, qu\u2019elle me laissa \u00e9vanoui, dans l\u2019impossibilit\u00e9 de travailler \u00e0\nma d\u00e9livrance. Le coup, ayant port\u00e9 sur mon flanc et sur ma poitrine,\navait pour ainsi dire chass\u00e9 enti\u00e8rement le souffle de mon corps; et,\nsi je ne l\u2019avais recouvr\u00e9 imm\u00e9diatement, j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9touff\u00e9 dans\nl\u2019eau; mais il me revint un peu avant le retour des vagues, et voyant\nqu\u2019elles allaient encore m\u2019envelopper, je r\u00e9solus de me cramponner\nau rocher et de retenir mon haleine, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019elles fussent\nretir\u00e9es. Comme la terre \u00e9tait proche, les lames ne s\u2019\u00e9levaient plus\naussi haut, et je ne quittai point prise qu\u2019elles ne se fussent\nabattues. Alors je repris ma course, et je m\u2019approchai tellement de la\nterre, que la nouvelle vague, quoiqu\u2019elle me travers\u00e2t, ne m\u2019engloutit\npoint assez pour m\u2019entra\u00eener. Enfin, apr\u00e8s un dernier effort, je\nparvins \u00e0 la terre ferme, o\u00f9, \u00e0 ma grande satisfaction, je gravis sur\nles rochers escarp\u00e9s du rivage, et m\u2019assis sur l\u2019herbe, d\u00e9livr\u00e9 de\ntous p\u00e9rils et \u00e0 l\u2019abri de toute atteinte de l\u2019oc\u00e9an.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors \u00e0 terre et en s\u00fbret\u00e9 sur la rive; je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nregarder le ciel et \u00e0 remercier Dieu de ce que ma vie \u00e9tait sauv\u00e9e,\ndans un cas o\u00f9, quelques minutes auparavant, il y avait \u00e0 peine lieu\nd\u2019esp\u00e9rer. Je crois qu\u2019il serait impossible d\u2019exprimer au vif ce que\nsont les extases et les transports d\u2019une \u00e2me arrach\u00e9e, pour ainsi\ndire, du plus profond de la tombe. Aussi, ne suis-je pas \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de\nla coutume d\u2019amener un chirurgien pour tirer du sang au criminel \u00e0\nqui on apporte des lettres de surs\u00e9ance juste au moment o\u00f9, la corde\nserr\u00e9e au cou, il est pr\u00e8s de recevoir la mort, afin que la surprise\nne chasse point les esprits vitaux de son c\u0153ur, et ne le tue point.\n[Illustration: J\u2019\u00e9tais alors \u00e0 terre...]\n  Car le premier effet des joies et des afflictions soudaines\n  est d\u2019an\u00e9antir[11].\nAbsorb\u00e9 dans la contemplation de ma d\u00e9livrance, je me promenais \u00e7\u00e0\net l\u00e0 sur le rivage, levant les mains vers le ciel, faisant mille\ngestes et mille mouvements que je ne saurais d\u00e9crire; songeant \u00e0 tous\nmes compagnons qui \u00e9taient noy\u00e9s, et que l\u00e0 pas une \u00e2me n\u2019avait d\u00fb\n\u00eatre sauv\u00e9e except\u00e9 moi; car je ne les revis jamais, ni eux, ni aucun\nvestige d\u2019eux, si ce n\u2019est trois chapeaux, un bonnet et deux souliers\nd\u00e9pareill\u00e9s.\n[Illustration: Et deux souliers d\u00e9pareill\u00e9s.]\nAlors je jetai les yeux sur le navire \u00e9chou\u00e9; mais il \u00e9tait si\n\u00e9loign\u00e9, et les brisants et l\u2019\u00e9cume de la lame \u00e9taient si forts, qu\u2019\u00e0\npeine pouvais-je le distinguer; et je consid\u00e9rai, \u00f4 mon Dieu! comment\nil avait \u00e9t\u00e9 possible que j\u2019eusse atteint le rivage.\nApr\u00e8s avoir soulag\u00e9 mon esprit par tout ce qu\u2019il y avait de\nconsolant dans ma situation, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 regarder \u00e0 l\u2019entour de\nmoi, pour voir en quelle sorte de lieu j\u2019\u00e9tais, et ce que j\u2019avais\n\u00e0 faire. Je sentis bient\u00f4t mon contentement diminuer, et qu\u2019en un\nmot ma d\u00e9livrance \u00e9tait affreuse, car j\u2019\u00e9tais tremp\u00e9 et n\u2019avais\npas de v\u00eatements pour me changer, ni rien \u00e0 manger ou \u00e0 boire pour\nme r\u00e9conforter. Je n\u2019avais non plus d\u2019autre perspective que celle\nde mourir de faim ou d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par les b\u00eates f\u00e9roces. Ce qui\nm\u2019affligeait particuli\u00e8rement, c\u2019\u00e9tait de ne point avoir d\u2019arme pour\nchasser et tuer quelques animaux pour ma subsistance, ou pour me\nd\u00e9fendre contre n\u2019importe quelles cr\u00e9atures qui voudraient me tuer\npour la leur. Bref, je n\u2019avais rien sur moi qu\u2019un couteau, une pipe\n\u00e0 tabac, et un peu de tabac dans une bo\u00eete. C\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 toute ma\nprovision: aussi tombai-je dans une si terrible d\u00e9solation d\u2019esprit,\nque pendant quelque temps je courus \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 comme un insens\u00e9. A la\ntomb\u00e9e du jour, le c\u0153ur plein de tristesse, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer\nquel serait mon sort s\u2019il y avait en cette contr\u00e9e des b\u00eates\nd\u00e9vorantes, car je n\u2019ignorais pas qu\u2019elles sortent \u00e0 la nuit pour\nr\u00f4der et chercher leur proie.\nLa seule ressource qui s\u2019offrit alors \u00e0 ma pens\u00e9e fut de monter \u00e0\nun arbre \u00e9pais et touffu, semblable \u00e0 un sapin, mais \u00e9pineux, qui\ncroissait pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0, et o\u00f9 je r\u00e9solus de m\u2019\u00e9tablir pour toute\nla nuit, laissant au lendemain \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer de quelle mort il me\nfaudrait mourir; car je n\u2019entrevoyais encore nul moyen d\u2019existence. Je\nm\u2019\u00e9loignai d\u2019environ un demi-quart de mille du rivage, afin de voir si\nje ne trouverais point d\u2019eau douce pour \u00e9tancher ma soif: \u00e0 ma grande\njoie, j\u2019en rencontrai. Apr\u00e8s avoir bu, ayant mis un peu de tabac dans\nma bouche pour pr\u00e9venir ma faim, j\u2019allai \u00e0 l\u2019arbre, je montai dedans,\net je t\u00e2chai de m\u2019y placer de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ne pas tomber si je venais \u00e0\nm\u2019endormir; et, pour ma d\u00e9fense, ayant coup\u00e9 un b\u00e2ton court, semblable\n\u00e0 un gourdin, je pris possession de mon logement. Comme j\u2019\u00e9tais\nextr\u00eamement fatigu\u00e9, je tombai dans un profond sommeil, et je dormis\nconfortablement comme peu de personnes, je pense, l\u2019eussent pu faire\nen ma situation, et je m\u2019en trouvai plus soulag\u00e9 que je crois l\u2019avoir\njamais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans une occasion opportune.\n[Illustration: Je tombai dans un profond sommeil.]\nLorsque je m\u2019\u00e9veillai, il faisait grand jour; le temps \u00e9tait clair,\nl\u2019orage \u00e9tait abattu, la mer n\u2019\u00e9tait plus ni furieuse ni houleuse\ncomme la veille. Mais quelle fut ma surprise en voyant que le vaisseau\navait \u00e9t\u00e9, par l\u2019\u00e9l\u00e9vation de la mar\u00e9e, enlev\u00e9, pendant la nuit, du\nbanc de sable o\u00f9 il s\u2019\u00e9tait engrav\u00e9, et qu\u2019il avait d\u00e9riv\u00e9 presque\njusqu\u2019au r\u00e9cif dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, et contre lequel j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9\npr\u00e9cipit\u00e9 et meurtri. Il \u00e9tait environ \u00e0 un mille du rivage, et comme\nil paraissait poser encore sur sa quille, je souhaitai d\u2019aller \u00e0 bord,\nafin de sauver au moins quelques choses n\u00e9cessaires pour mon usage.\nQuand je fus descendu de mon appartement, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de l\u2019arbre,\nje regardai encore \u00e0 l\u2019entour de moi, et la premi\u00e8re chose que je\nd\u00e9couvris fut la chaloupe, gisant sur la terre, o\u00f9 le vent et la\nmer l\u2019avaient lanc\u00e9e, \u00e0 environ deux milles \u00e0 ma droite. Je marchai le\nlong du rivage aussi loin que je pus pour y arriver; mais ayant trouv\u00e9\nentre cette embarcation et moi un bras de mer qui avait environ un\ndemi-mille de largeur, je rebroussai chemin; car j\u2019\u00e9tais alors bien\nplus d\u00e9sireux de parvenir au b\u00e2timent, o\u00f9 j\u2019esp\u00e9rais trouver quelque\nchose pour ma subsistance.\nUn peu apr\u00e8s midi, la mer \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s calme et la mar\u00e9e si basse,\nque je pouvais avancer jusqu\u2019\u00e0 un quart de mille du vaisseau. L\u00e0,\nj\u2019\u00e9prouvai un renouvellement de douleur; car je vis clairement que\nsi nous fussions demeur\u00e9s \u00e0 bord, nous eussions tous \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9s,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que nous serions tous venus \u00e0 terre sains et saufs, et\nque je n\u2019aurais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 si malheureux que d\u2019\u00eatre, comme je l\u2019\u00e9tais\nalors, enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9nu\u00e9 de toute soci\u00e9t\u00e9 et de toute consolation.\nCeci m\u2019arracha de nouvelles larmes des yeux: mais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019un\nfaible soulagement, et je r\u00e9solus d\u2019atteindre le navire, s\u2019il \u00e9tait\npossible. Je me d\u00e9shabillai, car la chaleur \u00e9tait extr\u00eame, et me mis\n\u00e0 l\u2019eau. Parvenu au b\u00e2timent, la grande difficult\u00e9 \u00e9tait de savoir\ncomment monter \u00e0 bord. Comme il posait sur terre et s\u2019\u00e9levait \u00e0 une\ngrande hauteur hors de l\u2019eau, il n\u2019y avait rien \u00e0 ma port\u00e9e que je\npusse saisir. J\u2019en fis deux fois le tour \u00e0 la nage, et, la seconde\nfois, j\u2019aper\u00e7us un petit bout de cordage, que je fus \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de n\u2019avoir\npoint vu d\u2019abord, et qui pendait au porte-haubans de misaine, assez\nbas pour que je pusse l\u2019atteindre, mais non sans grande difficult\u00e9.\nA l\u2019aide de cette corde je me hissai sur le gaillard d\u2019avant. L\u00e0, je\nvis que le vaisseau \u00e9tait bris\u00e9, et qu\u2019il y avait une grande quantit\u00e9\nd\u2019eau dans la cale, mais qu\u2019\u00e9tant pos\u00e9 sur les accores d\u2019un banc de\nsable ferme, ou plut\u00f4t de terre, il portait la poupe extr\u00eamement haut\net la proue si bas, qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait presque \u00e0 fleur d\u2019eau; de sorte\nque l\u2019arri\u00e8re \u00e9tait libre, et que tout ce qu\u2019il y avait dans cette\npartie \u00e9tait sec. On peut bien \u00eatre assur\u00e9 que ma premi\u00e8re besogne\nfut de chercher \u00e0 voir ce qui \u00e9tait avari\u00e9 et ce qui \u00e9tait intact. Je\ntrouvai d\u2019abord que toutes les provisions du vaisseau \u00e9taient en bon\n\u00e9tat et n\u2019avaient point souffert de l\u2019eau; et me sentant fort dispos\u00e9\n\u00e0 manger, j\u2019allai \u00e0 la soute au pain o\u00f9 je remplis mes goussets de\nbiscuits, que je mangeai en m\u2019occupant \u00e0 autre chose; car je n\u2019avais\npas de temps \u00e0 perdre. Je trouvai aussi du _rhum_ dans la grande\nchambre: j\u2019en bus un long trait, ce qui, au fait, n\u2019\u00e9tait pas trop\npour me donner du c\u0153ur \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage. Alors, il ne me manquait plus rien\nqu\u2019une barque pour me munir de bien des choses que je pr\u00e9voyais devoir\nm\u2019\u00eatre fort essentielles.\n[Illustration: J\u2019aper\u00e7us un petit bout de cordage.]\nIl \u00e9tait superflu de demeurer oisif \u00e0 souhaiter ce que je ne pouvais\navoir; la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 \u00e9veilla mon industrie. Nous avions \u00e0 bord\nplusieurs vergues, plusieurs m\u00e2ts de hune de rechange, et deux ou\ntrois espars doubles: je r\u00e9solus de commencer par cela \u00e0 mettre \u00e0\nl\u2019\u0153uvre, et j\u2019\u00e9linguai hors du bord tout ce qui n\u2019\u00e9tait point trop\npesant, attachant chaque pi\u00e8ce avec une corde pour qu\u2019elle ne p\u00fbt pas\nd\u00e9river. Quand ceci fut fait, je descendis \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 du b\u00e2timent, et les\ntirant \u00e0 moi, je liai fortement ensemble quatre de ces pi\u00e8ces par les\ndeux bouts, le mieux qu\u2019il me fut possible, pour en former un radeau.\nAyant pos\u00e9 en travers trois ou quatre bouts de bordage, je sentis que\nje pouvais tr\u00e8s bien marcher dessus, mais qu\u2019il ne pourrait pas porter\nune forte charge, \u00e0 cause de sa trop grande l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9. Je me remis donc\n\u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage, et, avec la scie du charpentier, je coupai en trois, sur\nla longueur, un m\u00e2t de hune, et l\u2019ajoutai \u00e0 mon radeau avec beaucoup\nde travail et de peine. Mais l\u2019esp\u00e9rance de me procurer le n\u00e9cessaire\nme poussait \u00e0 faire bien au del\u00e0 de ce que j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 capable\nd\u2019ex\u00e9cuter en toute autre occasion.\nCHAPITRE II\n     Le radeau.\u2014Visites au navire.\u2014Forteresse de Robinson.\u2014R\u00e9flexions\n     consolantes.\u2014Journal.\u2014Les affaires du m\u00e9nage.\u2014Une r\u00e9colte\n     impr\u00e9vue.\u2014Tremblement de terre et ouragan.\u2014Violente\n     fi\u00e8vre.\u2014Pens\u00e9es d\u2019un malade.\u2014Nouvelles d\u00e9couvertes.\u2014Anniversaire\n     du naufrage.\nMon radeau \u00e9tait alors assez fort pour porter un poids raisonnable;\nil ne s\u2019agissait plus que de voir de quoi je le chargerais, et\ncomment je pr\u00e9serverais ce chargement du ressac de la mer. J\u2019eus\nbient\u00f4t pris ma d\u00e9termination. D\u2019abord, je mis tous les bordages et\ntoutes les planches que je pus atteindre; puis, ayant bien song\u00e9 \u00e0\nce dont j\u2019avais le plus besoin, je pris premi\u00e8rement trois coffres\nde matelots, que j\u2019avais forc\u00e9s et vid\u00e9s, et je les descendis sur\nmon radeau. Le premier je le remplis de provisions, savoir: du pain,\ndu riz, trois fromages de Hollande, cinq pi\u00e8ces de viande de ch\u00e8vre\ns\u00e9ch\u00e9e, dont l\u2019\u00e9quipage faisait sa principale nourriture, et un petit\nreste de bl\u00e9 d\u2019Europe mis \u00e0 part pour quelques poules que nous avions\nembarqu\u00e9es et qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9es. Il y avait aussi \u00e0 bord un peu\nd\u2019orge et de froment m\u00eal\u00e9s ensemble; mais je m\u2019aper\u00e7us, \u00e0 mon grand\nd\u00e9sappointement, que ces grains avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 mang\u00e9s ou g\u00e2t\u00e9s par les\nrats. Quant aux liqueurs, je trouvai plusieurs caisses de bouteilles\nappartenant \u00e0 notre patron, dans lesquelles \u00e9taient quelques eaux\ncordiales, et enfin environ cinq ou six gallons d\u2019arack; mais je les\narrimai s\u00e9par\u00e9ment parce qu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas n\u00e9cessaire de les mettre\ndans le coffre, et que, d\u2019ailleurs, il n\u2019y avait plus de place pour\nelles. Tandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 \u00e0 ceci, je remarquai que la mar\u00e9e,\nquoique tr\u00e8s calme, commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 monter, et j\u2019eus la mortification de\nvoir flotter au large mon justaucorps, ma chemise et ma veste, que\nj\u2019avais laiss\u00e9s sur le sable du rivage. Quant \u00e0 mon haut-de-chausses,\nqui \u00e9tait seulement de toile et ouvert aux genoux, je l\u2019avais gard\u00e9\nsur moi ainsi que mes bas pour nager jusqu\u2019\u00e0 bord. Quoi qu\u2019il en\nsoit, cela m\u2019obligea d\u2019aller \u00e0 la recherche des hardes. J\u2019en trouvai\nsuffisamment, mais je ne pris que ce dont j\u2019avais besoin pour le\npr\u00e9sent; car il y avait d\u2019autres choses que je convoitais bien\ndavantage, telles que des outils pour travailler \u00e0 terre. Ce ne fut\nqu\u2019apr\u00e8s une longue qu\u00eate que je d\u00e9couvris le coffre du charpentier,\nqui fut alors, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, une capture plus profitable et d\u2019une bien\nplus grande valeur, pour moi, que ne l\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 un plein vaisseau d\u2019or.\nJe le descendis sur mon radeau tel qu\u2019il \u00e9tait, sans perdre mon temps\n\u00e0 regarder dedans, car je savais, en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral, ce qu\u2019il contenait.\nJe pensai ensuite aux munitions et aux armes; il y avait dans la\ngrande chambre deux tr\u00e8s bons fusils de chasse et deux pistolets; je\nles mis d\u2019abord en r\u00e9serve avec quelques poires \u00e0 poudre, un petit\nsac de menu plomb et deux vieilles \u00e9p\u00e9es rouill\u00e9es. Je savais qu\u2019il\nexistait \u00e0 bord trois barils de poudre, mais j\u2019ignorais o\u00f9 notre\ncanonnier les avait rang\u00e9s; enfin je les trouvai apr\u00e8s une longue\nperquisition. Il y en avait un qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mouill\u00e9; les deux autres\n\u00e9taient secs et en bon \u00e9tat, et je les mis avec les armes sur mon\nradeau. Me croyant alors assez bien charg\u00e9, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 songer\ncomment je devais conduire tout cela au rivage; car je n\u2019avais ni\nvoile, ni aviron, ni gouvernail, et la moindre bouff\u00e9e de vent pouvait\nsubmerger mon embarcation.\nTrois choses relevaient mon courage: 1^o une mer calme et unie; 2^o la\nmar\u00e9e montante et portant \u00e0 la terre; 3^o le vent, qui, tout faible\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait, soufflait vers le rivage. Enfin, ayant trouv\u00e9 deux ou\ntrois rames rompues appartenant \u00e0 la chaloupe, et deux scies, une\nhache et un marteau, en outre des outils qui \u00e9taient dans le coffre,\nje me mis en mer avec ma cargaison. Jusqu\u2019\u00e0 un mille, ou environ, mon\nradeau alla tr\u00e8s bien; seulement je m\u2019aper\u00e7us qu\u2019il d\u00e9rivait un peu\nau del\u00e0 de l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 d\u2019abord j\u2019avais pris terre. Cela me fit juger\nqu\u2019il y avait l\u00e0 un courant d\u2019eau, et me fit esp\u00e9rer, par cons\u00e9quent,\nde trouver une crique ou une rivi\u00e8re dont je pourrais faire usage\ncomme d\u2019un port, pour d\u00e9barquer mon chargement.\nLa chose \u00e9tait ainsi que je l\u2019avais pr\u00e9sum\u00e9. Je d\u00e9couvris devant moi\nune petite ouverture de terre, et je vis la mar\u00e9e qui s\u2019y pr\u00e9cipitait.\nJe gouvernai donc mon radeau du mieux que je pus pour le maintenir\ndans le milieu du courant; mais l\u00e0 je faillis \u00e0 faire un second\nnaufrage, qui, s\u2019il f\u00fbt advenu, m\u2019aurait, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, bris\u00e9 le c\u0153ur.\nCette c\u00f4te m\u2019\u00e9tant tout \u00e0 fait inconnue, j\u2019allai toucher d\u2019un bout de\nmon radeau sur un banc de sable, et comme l\u2019autre bout n\u2019\u00e9tait point\nensabl\u00e9, peu s\u2019en fallut que toute ma cargaison ne gliss\u00e2t hors du\ntrain et ne tomb\u00e2t dans l\u2019eau. Je fis tout mon possible, en appuyant\nmon dos contre les coffres, pour les retenir \u00e0 leur place; car tous\nmes efforts eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 insuffisants pour repousser le radeau; je\nn\u2019osais pas, d\u2019ailleurs, quitter la posture o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais. Soutenant\nainsi les coffres de toutes mes forces, je demeurai dans cette\nposition pr\u00e8s d\u2019une demi-heure, durant laquelle la crue de la mar\u00e9e\nvint me remettre un peu plus de niveau. L\u2019eau s\u2019\u00e9levant toujours,\nquelque temps apr\u00e8s, mon train surnagea de nouveau, et, avec la rame\nque j\u2019avais, je le poussai dans le chenal. Lorsque j\u2019eus \u00e9t\u00e9 dress\u00e9\nplus haut, je me trouvai enfin \u00e0 l\u2019embouchure d\u2019une petite rivi\u00e8re,\nentre deux rives, sur un courant ou flux rapide qui remontait.\nCependant je cherchais des yeux, sur l\u2019un et l\u2019autre bord, une place\nconvenable pour prendre terre; car esp\u00e9rant, avec le temps, apercevoir\nquelque navire en mer, je ne voulais pas me laisser entra\u00eener trop\navant; et c\u2019est pour cela que je r\u00e9solus de m\u2019\u00e9tablir aussi pr\u00e8s de la\nc\u00f4te que je le pourrais.\nEnfin je d\u00e9couvris une petite anse sur la rive droite de la crique,\nvers laquelle, non sans beaucoup de peine et de difficult\u00e9, je\nconduisis mon radeau. J\u2019en approchai si pr\u00e8s, que, touchant le fond\navec ma rame, j\u2019aurais pu l\u2019y pousser directement; mais, le faisant,\nje courais de nouveau le risque de submerger ma cargaison, parce que\nla c\u00f4te \u00e9tait roide, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 pic, et qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas une\nplace pour aborder, o\u00f9, si l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de mon train e\u00fbt port\u00e9 \u00e0 terre,\nil n\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9lev\u00e9 aussi haut et inclin\u00e9 aussi bas de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9\nque la premi\u00e8re fois, et n\u2019e\u00fbt mis encore mon chargement en danger.\nTout ce que je pus faire, ce fut d\u2019attendre que la mar\u00e9e f\u00fbt \u00e0 sa plus\ngrande hauteur, me servant d\u2019un aviron en guise d\u2019ancre pour retenir\nmon radeau et l\u2019appuyer contre le bord, proche d\u2019un terrain plat que\nj\u2019esp\u00e9rais voir inond\u00e9, ce qui arriva effectivement. Sit\u00f4t que je\ntrouvai assez d\u2019eau,\u2014mon radeau tirait environ un pied,\u2014je le poussai\nsur le terrain plat, o\u00f9 je l\u2019attachai ou amarrai en fichant dans la\nterre mes deux rames bris\u00e9es; l\u2019une d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 pr\u00e8s d\u2019un bout, l\u2019autre\ndu c\u00f4t\u00e9 oppos\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de l\u2019autre bout, et je demeurai ainsi jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce\nque le jusant e\u00fbt laiss\u00e9 en s\u00fbret\u00e9, sur le rivage, mon radeau et toute\nma cargaison.\nEnsuite ma premi\u00e8re occupation fut de reconna\u00eetre le pays, et de\nchercher un endroit favorable pour ma demeure et pour ranger mes\nbagages, et les mettre \u00e0 couvert de tout ce qui pourrait advenir.\nJ\u2019ignorais encore o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais. \u00c9tait-ce une \u00eele ou le continent?\n\u00c9tait-ce habit\u00e9 ou inhabit\u00e9? \u00c9tais-je ou n\u2019\u00e9tais-je pas en danger des\nb\u00eates f\u00e9roces? A un mille de moi au plus, il y avait une montagne tr\u00e8s\nhaute et tr\u00e8s escarp\u00e9e qui semblait en dominer plusieurs autres dont\nla cha\u00eene s\u2019\u00e9tendait au nord. Je pris un de mes fusils de chasse, un\nde mes pistolets et une poire \u00e0 poudre, et arm\u00e9 de la sorte je m\u2019en\nallai \u00e0 la d\u00e9couverte sur cette montagne. Apr\u00e8s avoir, avec beaucoup\nde peine et de difficult\u00e9, gravi sur la cime, je compris, \u00e0 ma grande\naffliction, ma destin\u00e9e, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que j\u2019\u00e9tais dans une \u00eele au\nmilieu de l\u2019Oc\u00e9an, d\u2019o\u00f9 je n\u2019apercevais d\u2019autre terre que des r\u00e9cifs\nfort \u00e9loign\u00e9s et deux petites \u00eeles moindres que celle o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais,\nsitu\u00e9es \u00e0 trois lieues environ vers l\u2019ouest.\nJe reconnus aussi que l\u2019\u00eele \u00e9tait inculte, et que vraisemblablement\nelle n\u2019\u00e9tait habit\u00e9e que par des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces; pourtant je n\u2019en\napercevais aucune; mais, en revanche, je voyais quantit\u00e9 d\u2019oiseaux\ndont je ne connaissais pas l\u2019esp\u00e8ce. Je n\u2019aurais pas m\u00eame pu, lorsque\nj\u2019en aurais tu\u00e9, distinguer ceux qui \u00e9taient bons \u00e0 manger de ceux qui\nne l\u2019\u00e9taient pas. En revenant, je tirai sur un gros oiseau que je vis\nse poser sur un arbre, au bord d\u2019un grand bois; c\u2019\u00e9tait, je pense, le\npremier coup de fusil qui e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 tir\u00e9 en ce lieu depuis la cr\u00e9ation\ndu monde. Je n\u2019eus pas plut\u00f4t fait feu, que de toutes les parties du\nbois il s\u2019\u00e9leva une grande quantit\u00e9 d\u2019oiseaux de diverses esp\u00e8ces,\nfaisant une rumeur confuse et criant chacun selon sa note accoutum\u00e9e.\nPas un d\u2019eux n\u2019\u00e9tait d\u2019une esp\u00e8ce qui me f\u00fbt connue. Quant \u00e0 l\u2019animal\nque je tuai, je le pris pour une sorte de faucon; il en avait la\ncouleur et le bec, mais non pas les serres ni les \u00e9perons; sa chair\n\u00e9tait puante et ne valait absolument rien.\n[Illustration: ... Il s\u2019\u00e9leva une grande quantit\u00e9 d\u2019oiseaux.]\nMe contentant de cette d\u00e9couverte, je revins \u00e0 mon radeau et me mis \u00e0\nl\u2019ouvrage pour le d\u00e9charger. Cela me prit tout le reste du jour. Que\nferais-je de moi \u00e0 la nuit? O\u00f9 reposerais-je? en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je l\u2019ignorais;\ncar je redoutais de coucher \u00e0 terre, ne sachant si quelque b\u00eate f\u00e9roce\nne me d\u00e9vorerait pas. Comme j\u2019ai eu lieu de le reconna\u00eetre depuis, ces\ncraintes \u00e9taient r\u00e9ellement mal fond\u00e9es.\nN\u00e9anmoins, je me barricadai aussi bien que je pus, avec les coffres\net les planches que j\u2019avais apport\u00e9s sur le rivage, et je me fis\nune sorte de hutte pour mon logement de cette nuit-l\u00e0. Quant \u00e0 ma\nnourriture, je ne savais pas encore comment j\u2019y suppl\u00e9erais, si ce\nn\u2019est que j\u2019avais vu deux ou trois animaux semblables \u00e0 des li\u00e8vres\ns\u2019enfuir hors du bois o\u00f9 j\u2019avais tir\u00e9 sur l\u2019oiseau.\nAlors je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir que je pourrais encore enlever du\nvaisseau bien des choses qui me seraient fort utiles, particuli\u00e8rement\ndes cordages et des voiles, et autres objets qui pourraient \u00eatre\ntransport\u00e9s. Je r\u00e9solus donc de faire un nouveau voyage \u00e0 bord\nsi c\u2019\u00e9tait possible; et, comme je n\u2019ignorais pas que la premi\u00e8re\ntourmente qui soufflerait briserait n\u00e9cessairement le navire en mille\npi\u00e8ces, je renon\u00e7ai \u00e0 rien entreprendre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019en eusse\nretir\u00e9 tout ce que je pourrais en avoir. Alors je tins conseil, en\nmes pens\u00e9es, veux-je dire, pour d\u00e9cider si je me resservirais du\nm\u00eame radeau. Cela me parut impraticable; aussi me d\u00e9terminai-je \u00e0 y\nretourner comme la premi\u00e8re fois, quand la mar\u00e9e serait basse, ce que\nje fis; seulement je me d\u00e9shabillai avant de sortir de ma hutte, ne\nconservant qu\u2019une chemise ray\u00e9e[12], une paire de braies de toile et\ndes escarpins.\nJe me rendis pareillement \u00e0 bord et je pr\u00e9parai un second radeau.\nAyant eu l\u2019exp\u00e9rience du premier, je fis celui-ci plus l\u00e9ger et je le\nchargeai moins pesamment; j\u2019emportai, toutefois, quantit\u00e9 de choses\nd\u2019une tr\u00e8s grande utilit\u00e9 pour moi. Premi\u00e8rement, dans la soute aux\nrechanges du ma\u00eetre charpentier, je trouvai deux ou trois sacs pleins\nde pointes et de clous, une grande tari\u00e8re, une douzaine ou deux de\nhaches, et, de plus, cette chose d\u2019un si grand usage nomm\u00e9e meule \u00e0\naiguiser. Je mis tout cela \u00e0 part, et j\u2019y r\u00e9unis beaucoup d\u2019objets\nappartenant au canonnier, nomm\u00e9ment deux ou trois leviers de fer, deux\nbarils de balles de mousquet, sept mousquets, un troisi\u00e8me fusil de\nchasse, une petite quantit\u00e9 de poudre, un gros sac plein de cendr\u00e9e et\nun grand rouleau de feuilles de plomb; mais ce dernier \u00e9tait si pesant\nque je ne pus le soulever pour le faire passer par-dessus le bord.\nEn outre je pris une voile de rechange du petit hunier, un hamac, un\ncoucher complet et tous les v\u00eatements que je pus trouver. Je chargeai\ndonc mon second radeau de tout ceci, que j\u2019amenai sain et sauf sur le\nrivage, \u00e0 ma tr\u00e8s grande satisfaction.\nDurant mon absence j\u2019avais craint que, pour le moins, mes provisions\nne fussent d\u00e9vor\u00e9es; mais, \u00e0 mon retour, je ne trouvai aucune trace de\nvisiteur, seulement un animal semblable \u00e0 un chat sauvage \u00e9tait assis\nsur un des coffres. Lorsque je m\u2019avan\u00e7ai vers lui, il s\u2019enfuit \u00e0 une\npetite distance, puis s\u2019arr\u00eata tout court; et s\u2019asseyant, tr\u00e8s calme\net tr\u00e8s insouciant, il me regarda en face, comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt eu envie de\nlier connaissance avec moi. Je lui pr\u00e9sentai mon fusil; mais comme il\nne savait ce que cela signifiait, il y resta parfaitement indiff\u00e9rent,\nsans m\u00eame faire mine de s\u2019en aller. Sur ce, je lui jetai un morceau\nde biscuit, bien que, certes, je n\u2019en fusse pas fort prodigue, car\nma provision n\u2019\u00e9tait pas consid\u00e9rable. N\u2019importe, je lui donnai ce\nmorceau, et il s\u2019en approcha, le flaira, le mangea, puis me regarda\nd\u2019un air d\u2019aise pour en avoir encore; mais je le remerciai, ne pouvant\nlui en offrir davantage; alors il se retira.\nMa seconde cargaison ayant gagn\u00e9 la terre, encore que j\u2019eusse\n\u00e9t\u00e9 contraint d\u2019ouvrir les barils et d\u2019en emporter la poudre par\npaquets,\u2014car c\u2019\u00e9taient de gros tonneaux fort lourds,\u2014je me mis \u00e0\nl\u2019ouvrage pour me faire une petite tente avec la voile, et des perches\nque je coupai \u00e0 cet effet. Sous cette tente je rangeai tout ce qui\npouvait se g\u00e2ter \u00e0 la pluie ou au soleil, et j\u2019empilai en cercle, \u00e0\nl\u2019entour, tous les coffres et tous les barils vides, pour la fortifier\ncontre toute attaque soudaine, soit d\u2019hommes, soit de b\u00eates.\nCela fait, je barricadai en dedans, avec des planches, la porte de\ncette tente, et, en dehors, avec une caisse vide pos\u00e9e debout; puis\nj\u2019\u00e9tendis \u00e0 terre un de mes couchers. Pla\u00e7ant mes pistolets \u00e0 mon\nchevet et mon fusil \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 de moi, je me mis au lit pour la premi\u00e8re\nfois, et dormis tr\u00e8s paisiblement toute la nuit, car j\u2019\u00e9tais accabl\u00e9\nde fatigue. Je n\u2019avais que fort peu repos\u00e9 la nuit pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente, et\nj\u2019avais rudement travaill\u00e9 tout le jour, tant \u00e0 aller qu\u00e9rir \u00e0 bord\ntoutes ces choses qu\u2019\u00e0 les transporter \u00e0 terre.\nJ\u2019avais alors le plus grand magasin d\u2019objets de toute sorte, qui,\nsans doute, e\u00fbt jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 amass\u00e9 pour un seul homme, mais je n\u2019\u00e9tais\npas satisfait encore; je pensais que tant que le navire resterait\n\u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9chouage, il \u00e9tait de mon devoir d\u2019en retirer tout ce que je\npourrais. Chaque jour, donc, j\u2019allais \u00e0 bord \u00e0 mer \u00e9tale, et je\nrapportais une chose ou une autre; nomm\u00e9ment, la troisi\u00e8me fois que\nje m\u2019y rendis, j\u2019enlevai autant d\u2019agr\u00e8s qu\u2019il me fut possible, tous\nles petits cordages et le fil \u00e0 voile, une pi\u00e8ce de toile de r\u00e9serve\npour raccommoder les voiles au besoin, et le baril de poudre mouill\u00e9e.\nBref, j\u2019emportai toutes les voiles, depuis la premi\u00e8re jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la\nderni\u00e8re; seulement je fus oblig\u00e9 de les couper en morceaux, pour en\napporter \u00e0 la fois autant que possible. D\u2019ailleurs ce n\u2019\u00e9tait plus\ncomme voilure, mais comme simple toile qu\u2019elles devaient servir.\nCe qui me fit le plus de plaisir, ce fut qu\u2019apr\u00e8s cinq ou six voyages\nsemblables, et lorsque je pensais que le b\u00e2timent ne contenait plus\nrien qui val\u00fbt la peine que j\u2019y touchasse, je d\u00e9couvris une grande\nbarrique de biscuit[13], trois gros barils de _rhum_ ou de liqueurs\nfortes, une caisse de sucre et un baril de fine fleur de farine. Cela\nm\u2019\u00e9tonna beaucoup, parce que je ne m\u2019attendais plus \u00e0 trouver d\u2019autres\nprovisions que celles avari\u00e9es par l\u2019eau. Je vidai promptement la\nbarrique de biscuit, j\u2019en fis plusieurs parts, que j\u2019enveloppai\ndans quelques morceaux de voile que j\u2019avais taill\u00e9s. Et, en un mot,\nj\u2019apportai encore tout cela heureusement \u00e0 terre.\nLe lendemain, je fis un autre voyage. Comme j\u2019avais d\u00e9pouill\u00e9 le\nvaisseau de tout ce qui \u00e9tait d\u2019un transport facile, je me mis apr\u00e8s\nles c\u00e2bles. Je coupai celui de grande tou\u00e9e en morceaux proportionn\u00e9s\n\u00e0 mes forces; et j\u2019en amassai deux autres ainsi qu\u2019une aussi\u00e8re, et\ntous les ferrements que je pus arracher. Alors je coupai la vergue de\ncivadi\u00e8re et la vergue d\u2019artimon, et tout ce qui pouvait me servir\n\u00e0 faire un grand radeau, pour charger tous ces pesants objets, et\nje partis. Mais ma bonne chance commen\u00e7ait alors \u00e0 m\u2019abandonner: ce\nradeau \u00e9tait si lourd et tellement surcharg\u00e9, qu\u2019ayant donn\u00e9 dans la\npetite anse o\u00f9 je d\u00e9barquais mes provisions, et ne pouvant pas le\nconduire aussi adroitement que j\u2019avais conduit les autres, il chavira,\net me jeta dans l\u2019eau avec ma cargaison. Quant \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame, le mal\nne fut pas grand, car j\u2019\u00e9tais proche du rivage; mais ma cargaison\nfut perdue en grande partie, surtout le fer, que je comptais devoir\nm\u2019\u00eatre d\u2019un si grand usage. N\u00e9anmoins, quand la mar\u00e9e se fut retir\u00e9e,\nje portai \u00e0 terre la plupart des morceaux de c\u00e2ble, et quelque peu\ndu fer, mais avec une peine infinie, car pour cela je fus oblig\u00e9 de\nplonger dans l\u2019eau, travail qui me fatiguait extr\u00eamement. Toutefois\nje ne laissais pas chaque jour de retourner \u00e0 bord, et d\u2019en rapporter\ntout ce que je pouvais.\nIl y avait alors treize jours que j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 terre; j\u2019\u00e9tais all\u00e9 onze\nfois \u00e0 bord du vaisseau, et j\u2019en avais enlev\u00e9, durant cet intervalle,\ntout ce qu\u2019il \u00e9tait possible \u00e0 un seul homme d\u2019emporter. Et je crois\nvraiment que si le temps calme e\u00fbt continu\u00e9, j\u2019aurais amen\u00e9 tout\nle b\u00e2timent, pi\u00e8ce \u00e0 pi\u00e8ce. Comme je me pr\u00e9parais \u00e0 aller \u00e0 bord\npour la douzi\u00e8me fois, je sentis le vent qui commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se lever.\nN\u00e9anmoins, \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e basse, je m\u2019y rendis; et quoique je pensasse\navoir parfaitement fouill\u00e9 la chambre du capitaine, et que je n\u2019y\ncrusse plus rien rencontrer, je d\u00e9couvris pourtant un meuble garni\nde tiroirs, dans l\u2019un desquels je trouvai deux ou trois rasoirs, une\npaire de grands ciseaux, et une douzaine environ de bons couteaux et\nde fourchettes;\u2014puis, dans un autre, la valeur au moins de trente-six\nlivres sterling en esp\u00e8ces d\u2019or et d\u2019argent, soit europ\u00e9ennes, soit\nbr\u00e9siliennes, et entre autres quelques pi\u00e8ces de huit.\nA la vue de cet argent je souris en moi-m\u00eame, et je m\u2019\u00e9criai:\u2014\u00abO\ndrogue! \u00e0 quoi es-tu bonne? Tu ne vaux pas la peine que je me baisse\npour te prendre! Un seul de ces couteaux est plus pour moi que cette\nsomme[14]. Je n\u2019ai nul besoin de toi; demeure donc o\u00f9 tu es, et va\nau fond de la mer, comme une cr\u00e9ature qui ne m\u00e9rite pas qu\u2019on la\nsauve.\u00bb\u2014Je me ravisai cependant, je le pris, et, l\u2019ayant envelopp\u00e9\navec les autres objets dans un morceau de toile, je songeai \u00e0 faire un\nnouveau radeau. Sur ces entrefaites, je m\u2019aper\u00e7us que le ciel \u00e9tait\ncouvert, et que le vent commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 fra\u00eechir. Au bout d\u2019un quart\nd\u2019heure il souffla un bon frais de la c\u00f4te. Je compris de suite qu\u2019il\n\u00e9tait inutile d\u2019essayer \u00e0 faire un radeau avec une brise venant de\nterre, et que mon affaire \u00e9tait de partir avant qu\u2019il y e\u00fbt du flot,\nqu\u2019autrement je pourrais bien ne jamais revoir le rivage. Je me jetai\ndonc \u00e0 l\u2019eau, et je traversai \u00e0 la nage le chenal ouvert entre le\nb\u00e2timent et les sables, mais avec assez de difficult\u00e9, \u00e0 cause des\nobjets pesants que j\u2019avais sur moi, et du clapotage de la mer; car le\nvent for\u00e7a si brusquement, que la temp\u00eate se d\u00e9cha\u00eena avant m\u00eame que\nla mar\u00e9e f\u00fbt haute.\nMais j\u2019\u00e9tais d\u00e9j\u00e0 rentr\u00e9 chez moi, dans ma petite tente, et assis en\ns\u00e9curit\u00e9 au milieu de toute ma richesse. Il fit un gros temps toute la\nnuit; et, le matin, quand je regardai en mer, le navire avait disparu.\nJe fus un peu surpris; mais je me remis aussit\u00f4t par cette consolante\nr\u00e9flexion, que je n\u2019avais point perdu de temps ni \u00e9pargn\u00e9 aucune\ndiligence pour en retirer tout ce qui pouvait m\u2019\u00eatre utile; et, qu\u2019au\nfait, il y \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 peu de choses que j\u2019eusse pu transporter quand\nm\u00eame j\u2019aurais eu plus de temps.\nD\u00e8s lors je d\u00e9tournai mes pens\u00e9es du b\u00e2timent et de ce qui pouvait en\nprovenir, sans renoncer toutefois aux d\u00e9bris qui viendraient \u00e0 d\u00e9river\nsur le rivage, comme, en effet, il en d\u00e9riva dans la suite, mais qui\nfurent pour moi de peu d\u2019utilit\u00e9.\nMon esprit ne s\u2019occupa plus alors qu\u2019\u00e0 chercher les moyens de me\nmettre en s\u00fbret\u00e9, soit contre les sauvages qui pourraient survenir,\nsoit contre les b\u00eates f\u00e9roces, s\u2019il y en avait dans l\u2019\u00eele. J\u2019avais\nplusieurs sentiments touchant l\u2019accomplissement de ce projet, et\ntouchant la demeure que j\u2019avais \u00e0 me construire, soit que je me\nfisse une grotte sous terre ou une tente sur le sol. Bref, je\nr\u00e9solus d\u2019avoir l\u2019une et l\u2019autre, et de telle sorte, qu\u2019\u00e0 coup s\u00fbr la\ndescription n\u2019en sera point hors de propos.\nJe reconnus d\u2019abord que le lieu o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais n\u2019\u00e9tait pas convenable pour\nmon \u00e9tablissement. Particuli\u00e8rement, parce que c\u2019\u00e9tait un terrain bas\net mar\u00e9cageux, proche de la mer, que je croyais ne pas devoir \u00eatre\nsain, et plus particuli\u00e8rement encore parce qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait point\nd\u2019eau douce pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0. Je me d\u00e9terminai donc \u00e0 chercher un coin de\nterre plus favorable.\nJe devais consid\u00e9rer plusieurs choses dans le choix de ce site: 1^o la\nsalubrit\u00e9 et l\u2019eau douce dont je parlais tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure; 2^o l\u2019abri\ncontre la chaleur du soleil; 3^o la protection contre toutes cr\u00e9atures\nrapaces, soit hommes ou b\u00eates; 4^o la vue de la mer; afin que si Dieu\nenvoyait quelque b\u00e2timent dans ces parages, je pusse en profiter pour\nma d\u00e9livrance: car je ne voulais point encore en bannir l\u2019espoir de\nmon c\u0153ur.\nEn cherchant un lieu qui r\u00e9un\u00eet tous ces avantages, je trouvai une\npetite plaine situ\u00e9e au pied d\u2019une colline, dont le flanc, regardant\ncette esplanade, s\u2019\u00e9levait \u00e0 pic comme la fa\u00e7ade d\u2019une maison, de\nsorte que rien ne pouvait venir \u00e0 moi de haut en bas. Sur le devant de\nce rocher, il y avait un enfoncement qui ressemblait \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e ou \u00e0\nla porte d\u2019une cave; mais il n\u2019existait r\u00e9ellement aucune caverne ni\naucun chemin souterrain.\nCe fut sur cette pelouse, juste devant cette cavit\u00e9, que je r\u00e9solus\nde m\u2019\u00e9tablir. La plaine n\u2019avait pas plus de cent verges de largeur\nsur une longueur double, et formait devant ma porte un boulingrin\nqui s\u2019en allait mourir sur la plage en pente douce et irr\u00e9guli\u00e8re.\nCette situation \u00e9tait au nord-nord-ouest de la colline, de mani\u00e8re\nque chaque jour j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 l\u2019abri de la chaleur, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que le\nsoleil d\u00e9clin\u00e2t \u00e0 l\u2019ouest quart sud, ou environ; mais, alors, dans ces\nclimats, il n\u2019est pas \u00e9loign\u00e9 de son coucher.\nAvant de dresser ma tente, je tra\u00e7ai devant le creux du rocher un\ndemi-cercle dont le rayon avait environ dix verges \u00e0 partir du roc, et\nle diam\u00e8tre vingt verges depuis un bout jusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019autre.\nJe plantai dans ce demi-cercle deux rang\u00e9es de gros pieux que\nj\u2019enfon\u00e7ai en terre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils fussent solides comme des\npilotis. Leur gros bout, taill\u00e9 en pointe, s\u2019\u00e9levait hors de terre \u00e0\nla hauteur de cinq pieds et demi; entre les deux rangs il n\u2019y avait\npas plus de six pouces d\u2019intervalle.\nJe pris ensuite les morceaux de c\u00e2ble que j\u2019avais coup\u00e9s \u00e0 bord du\nvaisseau, et je les posai les uns sur les autres, dans l\u2019entre-deux\nde la palissade, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 son sommet. Puis, en dedans du demi-cercle,\nj\u2019ajoutai d\u2019autres pieux d\u2019environ deux pieds et demi, s\u2019appuyant\ncontre les premiers et leur servant de contre-fiches.\nCet ouvrage \u00e9tait si fort que ni homme ni b\u00eate n\u2019aurait pu le forcer\nni le franchir. Il me co\u00fbta beaucoup de temps et de travail, surtout\npour couper les pieux dans les bois, les porter \u00e0 pied-d\u2019\u0153uvre et les\nenfoncer en terre.\nPour entrer dans la place, je fis, non pas une porte, mais une petite\n\u00e9chelle avec laquelle je passais par-dessus ce rempart. Quand j\u2019\u00e9tais\nen dedans, je l\u2019enlevais et la tirais \u00e0 moi. Je me croyais ainsi\nparfaitement d\u00e9fendu et fortifi\u00e9 contre le monde entier, et je dormais\ndonc en toute s\u00e9curit\u00e9 pendant la nuit, ce qu\u2019autrement je n\u2019aurais\npu faire. Pourtant, comme je le reconnus dans la suite, il n\u2019\u00e9tait\nnullement besoin de toutes ces pr\u00e9cautions contre des ennemis que je\nm\u2019\u00e9tais imagin\u00e9 avoir \u00e0 redouter.\nDans ce retranchement ou cette forteresse, je transportai avec\nbeaucoup de peine toutes mes richesses, tous mes vivres, toutes mes\nmunitions et provisions, dont plus haut vous avez eu le d\u00e9tail, et je\nme dressai une vaste tente que je fis double, pour me garantir des\npluies qui sont excessives en cette r\u00e9gion pendant un certain temps\nde l\u2019ann\u00e9e; c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que j\u2019\u00e9tablis d\u2019abord une tente de m\u00e9diocre\ngrandeur; ensuite une plus spacieuse par-dessus, recouverte d\u2019une\ngrande toile goudronn\u00e9e que j\u2019avais mise en r\u00e9serve avec les voiles.\nD\u00e8s lors je cessai pour un temps de coucher dans le lit que j\u2019avais\napport\u00e9 \u00e0 terre, pr\u00e9f\u00e9rant un fort bon hamac qui avait appartenu au\ncapitaine de notre vaisseau.\nAyant apport\u00e9 dans cette tente toutes mes provisions et tout ce qui\npouvait se g\u00e2ter \u00e0 l\u2019humidit\u00e9, et ayant ainsi renferm\u00e9 tous mes biens,\nje condamnai le passage que, jusqu\u2019alors, j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9 ouvert, et je\npassai et repassai avec ma petite \u00e9chelle, comme je l\u2019ai dit.\nCela fait, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 creuser dans le roc, et transportant \u00e0\ntravers ma tente la terre et les pierres que j\u2019en tirais, j\u2019en formai\nune sorte de terrasse qui \u00e9leva le sol d\u2019environ un pied et demi en\ndedans de la palissade. Ainsi, justement derri\u00e8re ma tente, je me fis\nune grotte, qui me servait comme de cellier pour ma maison.\nIl m\u2019en co\u00fbta beaucoup de travail et beaucoup de temps avant que je\npusse porter \u00e0 leur perfection ces diff\u00e9rents ouvrages; c\u2019est ce qui\nm\u2019oblige \u00e0 reprendre quelques faits qui fix\u00e8rent une partie de mon\nattention durant ce temps. Un jour, lorsque ma tente et ma grotte\nn\u2019existaient encore qu\u2019en projet, il arriva qu\u2019un nuage sombre et\n\u00e9pais fondit en pluie d\u2019orage, et que soudain un \u00e9clair en jaillit,\net fut suivi d\u2019un grand coup de tonnerre. La foudre m\u2019\u00e9pouvanta moins\nque cette pens\u00e9e, qui traversa mon esprit avec la rapidit\u00e9 m\u00eame de\nl\u2019\u00e9clair: O ma poudre!... Le c\u0153ur me manqua quand je songeai que\ntoute ma poudre pouvait sauter d\u2019un seul coup; ma poudre, mon unique\nmoyen de pourvoir \u00e0 ma d\u00e9fense et \u00e0 ma nourriture. Il s\u2019en fallait\nde beaucoup que je fusse aussi inquiet sur mon propre danger, et\ncependant si la poudre e\u00fbt pris feu, je n\u2019aurais pas eu le temps de\nreconna\u00eetre d\u2019o\u00f9 venait le coup qui me frappait.\nCette pens\u00e9e fit une telle impression sur moi, qu\u2019aussit\u00f4t l\u2019orage\npass\u00e9, je suspendis mes travaux, ma b\u00e2tisse et mes fortifications,\net me mis \u00e0 faire des sacs et des bo\u00eetes pour diviser ma poudre par\npetites quantit\u00e9s: esp\u00e9rant qu\u2019ainsi s\u00e9par\u00e9e, quoiqu\u2019il p\u00fbt advenir,\ntout ne pourrait s\u2019enflammer \u00e0 la fois; puis je dispersai ces paquets\nde telle fa\u00e7on qu\u2019il aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible que le feu se communiqu\u00e2t\nde l\u2019un \u00e0 l\u2019autre. J\u2019achevai cette besogne en quinze jours environ;\net je crois que ma poudre, qui pesait bien en tout deux cent quarante\nlivres, ne fut pas divis\u00e9e en moins de cent paquets. Quant au baril\nqui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mouill\u00e9, il ne me donnait aucune crainte; aussi le\npla\u00e7ai-je dans ma nouvelle grotte, que par fantaisie j\u2019appelais ma\ncuisine; et quant au reste, je le cachai \u00e0 une grande hauteur et\nprofondeur, dans des trous de rochers, \u00e0 couvert de la pluie, et que\nj\u2019eus grand soin de remarquer.\nTandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 \u00e0 ce travail, je sortais au moins une fois\nchaque jour avec mon fusil, soit pour me r\u00e9cr\u00e9er, soit pour voir si\nje ne pourrais pas tuer quelque animal pour ma nourriture, soit enfin\npour reconna\u00eetre autant qu\u2019il me serait possible quelles \u00e9taient les\nproductions de l\u2019\u00eele. D\u00e8s ma premi\u00e8re exploration je d\u00e9couvris qu\u2019il\ny avait des ch\u00e8vres, ce qui me causa une grande joie; mais cette\njoie fut vite mod\u00e9r\u00e9e par un d\u00e9sappointement: ces animaux \u00e9taient si\nm\u00e9fiants, si fins, si rapides \u00e0 la course, que c\u2019\u00e9tait la chose du\nmonde la plus difficile que de les approcher. Cette circonstance ne me\nd\u00e9couragea pourtant pas, car je ne doutais nullement que je n\u2019en pusse\nblesser de temps \u00e0 autre, ce qui ne tarda pas \u00e0 se v\u00e9rifier. Apr\u00e8s\navoir observ\u00e9 un peu leurs habitudes, je leur dressai une emb\u00fbche.\nJ\u2019avais remarqu\u00e9 que lorsque du haut des rochers elles m\u2019apercevaient\ndans les vall\u00e9es, elles prenaient l\u2019\u00e9pouvante et s\u2019enfuyaient. Mais si\nelles paissaient dans la plaine, et que je fusse sur quelque \u00e9minence,\nelles ne prenaient nullement garde \u00e0 moi. De l\u00e0 je conclus que, par\nla position de leurs yeux, elles avaient la vue tellement dirig\u00e9e en\nbas, qu\u2019elles ne voyaient pas ais\u00e9ment les objets plac\u00e9s au-dessus\nd\u2019elles. J\u2019adoptai en cons\u00e9quence la m\u00e9thode de commencer toujours\nma chasse par grimper sur des rochers qui les dominaient, et de l\u00e0\nje l\u2019avais souvent belle pour tirer. Du premier coup que je l\u00e2chai\nsur ces ch\u00e8vres, je tuai une bique qui avait aupr\u00e8s d\u2019elle un petit\ncabri qu\u2019elle nourrissait, ce qui me fit beaucoup de peine. Quand la\nm\u00e8re fut tomb\u00e9e, le petit chevreau non seulement resta aupr\u00e8s d\u2019elle\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019allasse la ramasser, mais encore quand je l\u2019emportai\nsur mes \u00e9paules, il me suivit jusqu\u2019\u00e0 mon enclos. Arriv\u00e9 l\u00e0, je la\nd\u00e9posai \u00e0 terre, et prenant le biquet dans mes bras, je le passai\npar-dessus la palissade, dans l\u2019esp\u00e9rance de l\u2019apprivoiser. Mais il ne\nvoulut point manger, et je fus donc oblig\u00e9 de le tuer et de le manger\nmoi-m\u00eame. Ces deux animaux me fournirent de viande pour longtemps,\ncar je vivais avec parcimonie, et m\u00e9nageais mes provisions,\u2014surtout\nmon pain,\u2014autant qu\u2019il \u00e9tait possible.\n[Illustration: Il me suivit jusqu\u2019\u00e0 mon enclos.]\nAyant alors fix\u00e9 le lieu de ma demeure, je trouvai qu\u2019il \u00e9tait\nabsolument n\u00e9cessaire que je pourvusse \u00e0 un endroit pour faire du feu,\net \u00e0 des provisions de chauffage. De ce que je fis \u00e0 cette intention,\nde la mani\u00e8re dont j\u2019agrandis ma grotte, et des aisances que j\u2019y\najoutai, je donnerai amplement le d\u00e9tail en ses temps et lieu; mais il\nfaut d\u2019abord que je parle de moi-m\u00eame, et du tumulte de mes pens\u00e9es\nsur ma vie.\nMa situation m\u2019apparaissait sous un jour affreux; comme je n\u2019avais\n\u00e9chou\u00e9 sur cette \u00eele qu\u2019apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 entra\u00een\u00e9 par une violente\ntemp\u00eate hors de la route de notre voyage projet\u00e9, et \u00e0 une centaine de\nlieues loin de la course ordinaire des navigateurs, j\u2019avais de fortes\nraisons pour croire que, par arr\u00eat du ciel, je devais terminer ma vie\nde cette triste mani\u00e8re, dans ce lieu de d\u00e9solation. Quand je faisais\nces r\u00e9flexions, des larmes coulaient en abondance sur mon visage, et\nquelquefois je me plaignais \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame de ce que la Providence pouvait\nainsi ruiner compl\u00e8tement ses cr\u00e9atures, les rendre si absolument\nmis\u00e9rables, et les accabler \u00e0 un tel point qu\u2019\u00e0 peine serait-il\nraisonnable qu\u2019elles lui sussent gr\u00e9 de l\u2019existence.\nMais j\u2019avais toujours un prompt retour sur moi-m\u00eame, qui arr\u00eatait le\ncours de ces pens\u00e9es et me couvrait de bl\u00e2me. Un jour entre autres, me\npromenant sur le rivage, mon fusil \u00e0 la main, j\u2019\u00e9tais fort attrist\u00e9\nde mon sort, quand la raison vint pour ainsi dire disputer avec\nmoi, et me parla ainsi:\u2014\u00abTu es, il est vrai, dans l\u2019abandon; mais\nrappelle-toi, s\u2019il te pla\u00eet, ce qu\u2019est devenu le reste de l\u2019\u00e9quipage.\nN\u2019\u00e9tiez-vous pas descendus onze dans la chaloupe? o\u00f9 sont les dix\nautres? Pourquoi n\u2019ont-ils pas \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9s, et toi perdu? Pourquoi\nas-tu \u00e9t\u00e9 le seul \u00e9pargn\u00e9? Lequel vaut mieux d\u2019\u00eatre ici ou d\u2019\u00eatre\nl\u00e0?\u00bb\u2014En m\u00eame temps je d\u00e9signais du doigt la mer.\u2014Il faut toujours\nconsid\u00e9rer dans les maux le bon qui peut faire compensation, et ce\nqu\u2019ils auraient pu amener de pire.\nAlors je compris de nouveau combien j\u2019\u00e9tais largement pourvu pour\nma subsistance. Quel e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 mon sort, s\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas arriv\u00e9, par\nune chance qui s\u2019offrirait \u00e0 peine une fois sur cent mille, que le\nvaisseau se soulev\u00e2t du banc o\u00f9 il s\u2019\u00e9tait ensabl\u00e9 d\u2019abord, et d\u00e9riv\u00e2t\nsi proche de la c\u00f4te, que j\u2019eusse le temps d\u2019en faire le sauvetage!\nQuel e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 mon sort, s\u2019il e\u00fbt fallu que je v\u00e9cusse dans le d\u00e9nuement\no\u00f9 je me trouvais en abordant le rivage, sans les premi\u00e8res n\u00e9cessit\u00e9s\nde la vie, et sans les choses n\u00e9cessaires pour me les procurer et\npour y suppl\u00e9er!\u2014\u00abSurtout qu\u2019aurais-je fait, m\u2019\u00e9criai-je, sans fusil,\nsans munitions, sans outils pour travailler et me fabriquer bien des\nchoses, sans v\u00eatements, sans lit, sans tente, sans aucune esp\u00e8ce\nd\u2019abri?\u00bb\u2014Mais j\u2019avais de tout cela en abondance, et j\u2019\u00e9tais en beau\nchemin de pouvoir m\u2019approvisionner par moi-m\u00eame, et me passer de\nmon fusil, lorsque mes munitions seraient \u00e9puis\u00e9es. J\u2019\u00e9tais ainsi\n\u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s assur\u00e9 d\u2019avoir tant que j\u2019existerais une vie exempte du\nbesoin. Car d\u00e8s le commencement j\u2019avais song\u00e9 \u00e0 me pr\u00e9munir contre\nles accidents qui pourraient survenir, non seulement apr\u00e8s l\u2019enti\u00e8re\nconsommation de mes munitions, mais encore apr\u00e8s l\u2019affaiblissement de\nmes forces et de ma sant\u00e9.\nJ\u2019avouerai, toutefois, que je n\u2019avais pas soup\u00e7onn\u00e9 que mes munitions\npouvaient \u00eatre d\u00e9truites d\u2019un seul coup, j\u2019entends que le feu du ciel\npouvait faire sauter ma poudre; et c\u2019est ce qui fit que cette pens\u00e9e\nme consterna si fort, lorsqu\u2019il vint \u00e0 \u00e9clairer et \u00e0 tonner, comme je\nl\u2019ai dit plus haut.\nMaintenant que je suis sur le point de m\u2019engager dans la relation\nm\u00e9lancolique d\u2019une vie silencieuse, d\u2019une vie peut-\u00eatre inou\u00efe dans\nle monde, je reprendrai mon r\u00e9cit d\u00e8s le commencement, et je le\ncontinuerai avec m\u00e9thode. Ce fut, suivant mon calcul, le 30 septembre\nque je mis le pied la premi\u00e8re fois sur cette \u00eele affreuse; lorsque le\nsoleil \u00e9tait, pour ces r\u00e9gions, dans l\u2019\u00e9quinoxe d\u2019automne, et presque\n\u00e0 plomb sur ma t\u00eate. Je reconnus par cette observation que je me\ntrouvais par les 9 degr\u00e9s 22 minutes de latitude au nord de l\u2019\u00e9quateur.\nAu bout d\u2019environ dix ou douze jours que j\u2019\u00e9tais l\u00e0, il me vint \u00e0\nl\u2019esprit que je perdrais la connaissance du temps, faute de livres,\nde plumes et d\u2019encre, et m\u00eame que je ne pourrais plus distinguer\nles dimanches des jours _ouvrables_. Pour \u00e9viter cette confusion,\nj\u2019\u00e9rigeai sur le rivage o\u00f9 j\u2019avais pris terre pour la premi\u00e8re fois,\nun gros poteau en forme de croix, sur lequel je gravai avec mon\ncouteau en lettres capitales cette inscription:\n  J\u2019ABORDAI ICI LE 30 SEPTEMBRE 1659.\nSur les c\u00f4t\u00e9s de ce poteau carr\u00e9, je faisais tous les jours une hoche,\nchaque septi\u00e8me hoche avait le double de la longueur des autres, et\ntous les premiers du mois j\u2019en marquais une plus longue encore: par ce\nmoyen, j\u2019entretins mon calendrier ou le calcul de mon temps, divis\u00e9\npar semaines, mois et ann\u00e9es.\nC\u2019est ici le lieu d\u2019observer que, parmi le grand nombre de choses\nque j\u2019enlevai du vaisseau, dans les diff\u00e9rents voyages que j\u2019y fis,\nje me procurai beaucoup d\u2019articles de moindre valeur, mais non pas\nd\u2019un moindre usage pour moi, et que j\u2019ai n\u00e9glig\u00e9 de mentionner\npr\u00e9c\u00e9demment; comme, par exemple, des plumes, de l\u2019encre, du papier\net quelques autres objets serr\u00e9s dans les cabines du capitaine, du\nsecond, du canonnier et du charpentier; trois ou quatre compas, des\ninstruments de math\u00e9matiques, des cadrans, des lunettes d\u2019approche,\ndes cartes et des livres de navigation, que j\u2019avais pris p\u00eale-m\u00eale\nsans savoir si j\u2019en aurais besoin ou non. Je trouvai aussi trois fort\nbonnes Bibles que j\u2019avais re\u00e7ues d\u2019Angleterre avec ma cargaison, et\nque j\u2019avais emball\u00e9es avec mes hardes; en outre, quelques livres\nportugais, deux ou trois de pri\u00e8res catholiques, et divers autres\nvolumes que je conservai soigneusement.\nIl ne faut pas que j\u2019oublie que nous avions dans le vaisseau un chien\net deux chats. Je dirai \u00e0 propos quelque chose de leur histoire\nfameuse. J\u2019emportai les deux chats avec moi; quant au chien, il sauta\nde lui-m\u00eame hors du vaisseau, et vint \u00e0 la nage me retrouver \u00e0 terre,\napr\u00e8s que j\u2019y eus conduit ma premi\u00e8re cargaison. Pendant bien des\nann\u00e9es il fut pour moi un serviteur fid\u00e8le, je n\u2019eus jamais faute de\nce qu\u2019il pouvait m\u2019aller qu\u00e9rir, ni de la compagnie qu\u2019il pouvait me\nfaire; seulement j\u2019aurais d\u00e9sir\u00e9 qu\u2019il me parl\u00e2t, mais c\u2019\u00e9tait chose\nimpossible. J\u2019ai dit que j\u2019avais trouv\u00e9 des plumes, de l\u2019encre et du\npapier; je les m\u00e9nageai extr\u00eamement, et je ferai voir que tant que mon\nencre dura je tins un compte exact de toutes choses; mais, quand elle\nfut us\u00e9e, cela me devint impraticable, car je ne pus parvenir \u00e0 en\nfaire d\u2019autre par aucun des moyens que j\u2019imaginai.\n[Illustration: Pendant bien des ann\u00e9es il fut pour moi un serviteur\nfid\u00e8le.]\nCela me fait souvenir que, nonobstant tout ce que j\u2019avais amass\u00e9,\nil me manquait quantit\u00e9 de choses. De ce nombre \u00e9tait premi\u00e8rement\nl\u2019encre, ensuite une b\u00eache, une pioche et une pelle pour fouir et\ntransporter la terre; enfin des aiguilles, des \u00e9pingles et du fil.\nQuant \u00e0 de la toile, j\u2019appris bient\u00f4t \u00e0 m\u2019en passer sans beaucoup de\npeine.\nCe manque d\u2019outils faisait que dans tous mes travaux je n\u2019avan\u00e7ais\nque lentement, et il s\u2019\u00e9coula pr\u00e8s d\u2019une ann\u00e9e avant que j\u2019eusse\nenti\u00e8rement achev\u00e9 ma petite palissade ou parqu\u00e9 mon habitation. Ses\npalis ou pieux \u00e9taient si pesants, que c\u2019\u00e9tait tout ce que je pouvais\nfaire de les soulever. Il me fallait longtemps pour les couper et les\nfa\u00e7onner dans les bois, et bien plus longtemps encore pour les amener\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ma demeure. Je passais quelquefois deux jours \u00e0 tailler et \u00e0\ntransporter un seul de ces poteaux, et un troisi\u00e8me jour \u00e0 l\u2019enfoncer\nen terre. Pour ce dernier travail, je me servais au commencement d\u2019une\nlourde pi\u00e8ce de bois; mais, plus tard, je m\u2019avisai d\u2019employer une\nbarre de fer, ce qui n\u2019emp\u00eacha pas, toutefois, que le pilotage de ces\npalis ou de ces pieux ne f\u00fbt une rude et longue besogne.\nMais quel besoin aurais-je eu de m\u2019inqui\u00e9ter de la lenteur de\nn\u2019importe quel travail? Je sentais tout le temps que j\u2019avais devant\nmoi, et que cet ouvrage une fois achev\u00e9, je n\u2019aurais aucune autre\noccupation, au moins que je pusse pr\u00e9voir, si ce n\u2019est de r\u00f4der dans\nl\u2019\u00eele pour chercher ma nourriture, ce que je faisais plus ou moins\nchaque jour.\nJe commen\u00e7ai d\u00e8s lors \u00e0 examiner s\u00e9rieusement ma position et les\ncirconstances o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9duit. Je dressai, par \u00e9crit, un \u00e9tat de\nmes affaires, non pas tant pour les laisser \u00e0 ceux qui viendraient\napr\u00e8s moi, car il n\u2019y avait pas apparence que je dusse avoir\nbeaucoup d\u2019h\u00e9ritiers, que pour d\u00e9livrer mon esprit des pens\u00e9es\nqui l\u2019assi\u00e9geaient et l\u2019accablaient chaque jour. Comme ma raison\ncommen\u00e7ait alors \u00e0 me rendre ma\u00eetre de mon abattement, j\u2019essayais \u00e0 me\nconsoler moi-m\u00eame du mieux que je pouvais, en balan\u00e7ant mes biens et\nmes maux, afin que je pusse bien me convaincre que mon sort n\u2019\u00e9tait\npas le pire; et, comme d\u00e9biteur et cr\u00e9ancier, j\u2019\u00e9tablis, ainsi qu\u2019il\nsuit, un compte tr\u00e8s fid\u00e8le de mes jouissances en regard des mis\u00e8res\nque je souffrais:\n  |Je suis jet\u00e9 sur une \u00eele        |Mais je suis vivant; mais je n'ai |\n  |horrible et d\u00e9sol\u00e9e,            |pas \u00e9t\u00e9 noy\u00e9 comme le furent tous |\n  |sans aucun espoir de d\u00e9livrance.|mes compagnons de voyage.         |\n  |Je suis \u00e9cart\u00e9 et s\u00e9par\u00e9, en    |Mais j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 s\u00e9par\u00e9 du reste de  |\n  |quelque sorte, du monde entier  |l'\u00e9quipage  pour \u00eatre pr\u00e9serv\u00e9    |\n  |pour \u00eatre mis\u00e9rable.            |de la mort; et Celui qui m'a      |\n  |Je suis retranch\u00e9 du nombre des |Mais je ne suis point mourant de  |\n  |hommes; je suis un solitaire, un|faim et expirant sur une terre    |\n  |banni de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 humaine.    |st\u00e9rile qui ne produise pas de    |\n  |Je n'ai point de v\u00eatements pour |Mais je suis dans un climat chaud,|\n  |me couvrir.                     |o\u00f9, si j'avais des v\u00eatements, je  |\n  |Je suis sans aucune d\u00e9fense, et |Mais j\u2019ai \u00e9chou\u00e9 sur une \u00eele o\u00f9 je|\n  |sans moyen de r\u00e9sister \u00e0 aucune |ne vois nulle b\u00eate f\u00e9roce qui     |\n  |attaque d\u2019hommes ou de b\u00eates.   |puisse me nuire, comme j\u2019en ai vu |\n  |Je n\u2019ai pas une seule \u00e2me \u00e0 qui ||Mais Dieu, par un prodige, a     |\n  |parler, ou qui puisse me        |envoy\u00e9 le vaisseau assez pr\u00e8s du  |\n  |consoler.                       |rivage pour que je pusse en tirer |\nEn somme, il en r\u00e9sultait ce t\u00e9moignage indubitable, que, dans le\nmonde, il n\u2019est point de condition si mis\u00e9rable o\u00f9 il n\u2019y ait quelque\nchose de positif ou de n\u00e9gatif dont on doit \u00eatre reconnaissant.\nQue ceci demeure donc comme une le\u00e7on tir\u00e9e de la plus affreuse de\ntoutes les conditions humaines, qu\u2019il est toujours en notre pouvoir\nde trouver quelques consolations qui peuvent \u00eatre plac\u00e9es dans notre\nbilan des biens et des maux au cr\u00e9dit de ce compte.\nAyant alors accoutum\u00e9 mon esprit \u00e0 go\u00fbter ma situation, et ne\npromenant plus mes regards en mer dans l\u2019esp\u00e9rance d\u2019y d\u00e9couvrir un\nvaisseau, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m\u2019appliquer \u00e0 am\u00e9liorer mon genre de vie, et\n\u00e0 me faire les choses aussi douces que possible.\nJ\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 d\u00e9crit mon habitation ou ma tente, plac\u00e9e au pied d\u2019une\nroche, et environn\u00e9e d\u2019une forte palissade de pieux et de c\u00e2bles, que,\nmaintenant, je devrais plut\u00f4t appeler une muraille, car je l\u2019avais\nrenforc\u00e9e, \u00e0 l\u2019ext\u00e9rieur, d\u2019une sorte de contre-mur de gazon d\u2019\u00e0 peu\npr\u00e8s deux pieds d\u2019\u00e9paisseur. Au bout d\u2019un an et demi environ je posai\nsur ce contre-mur des chevrons s\u2019appuyant contre le roc, et que je\ncouvris de branches d\u2019arbres et de tout ce qui pouvait garantir de la\npluie, que j\u2019avais reconnue excessive en certains temps de l\u2019ann\u00e9e.\nJ\u2019ai racont\u00e9 de quelle mani\u00e8re j\u2019avais apport\u00e9 tous mes bagages dans\nmon enclos, et dans la grotte que j\u2019avais faite par derri\u00e8re; mais je\ndois dire aussi que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait d\u2019abord qu\u2019un amas confus d\u2019effets dans\nun tel d\u00e9sordre qu\u2019ils occupaient toute la place, et me laissaient\n\u00e0 peine assez d\u2019espace pour me remuer. Je me mis donc \u00e0 agrandir\nma grotte, et \u00e0 pousser plus avant mes travaux souterrains; car\nc\u2019\u00e9tait une roche de sablon qui c\u00e9dait ais\u00e9ment \u00e0 mes efforts. Comme\nalors je me trouvais passablement \u00e0 couvert des b\u00eates de proie, je\ncreusai obliquement le roc \u00e0 main droite; et puis, tournant encore \u00e0\ndroite, je poursuivis jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je l\u2019eusse perc\u00e9 \u00e0 jour, pour me\nfaire une porte de sortie sur l\u2019ext\u00e9rieur de ma palissade ou de mes\nfortifications.\nNon seulement cela me donna une issue et une entr\u00e9e, ou en quelque\nsorte un chemin d\u00e9rob\u00e9 pour ma tente et mon magasin, mais encore de\nl\u2019espace pour ranger tout mon attirail.\nJ\u2019entrepris alors de me fabriquer les meubles indispensables dont\nj\u2019avais le plus besoin, sp\u00e9cialement une chaise et une table. Sans\ncela je ne pouvais jouir du peu de bien-\u00eatre que j\u2019avais en ce monde;\nsans une table, je n\u2019aurais pu \u00e9crire ou manger, ni faire quantit\u00e9 de\nchoses avec tant de plaisir.\nJe me mis donc \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre; et ici je constaterai n\u00e9cessairement\ncette observation, que la raison \u00e9tant l\u2019essence et l\u2019origine des\nmath\u00e9matiques, tout homme qui base chaque chose sur la raison, et juge\ndes choses le plus raisonnablement possible, peut, avec le temps,\npasser ma\u00eetre dans n\u2019importe quel art m\u00e9canique. Je n\u2019avais, de ma\nvie, mani\u00e9 un outil; et pourtant, \u00e0 la longue, par mon travail, par\nmon application, mon industrie, je reconnus enfin qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait\naucune des choses qui me manquaient que je n\u2019eusse pu faire, surtout\nsi j\u2019avais eu des instruments. Quoi qu\u2019il en soit, sans outils, je\nfabriquai quantit\u00e9 d\u2019ouvrages; et seulement avec une hache et une\nherminette, je vins \u00e0 bout de quelques-uns qui, sans doute, jusque-l\u00e0,\nn\u2019avaient jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 faits ainsi; mais ce ne fut pas sans une peine\ninfinie. Par exemple, si j\u2019avais besoin d\u2019une planche, je n\u2019avais\npas d\u2019autre moyen que celui d\u2019abattre un arbre, de le coucher devant\nmoi, de le tailler des deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s avec ma cogn\u00e9e jusqu\u2019\u00e0 le rendre\nsuffisamment mince, et de le dresser ensuite avec mon herminette. Il\nest vrai que par cette m\u00e9thode je ne pouvais tirer qu\u2019une planche d\u2019un\narbre entier; mais \u00e0 cela, non plus qu\u2019\u00e0 la prodigieuse somme de temps\net de travail que j\u2019y d\u00e9pensais, il n\u2019y avait d\u2019autre rem\u00e8de que la\npatience. Apr\u00e8s tout, mon temps ou mon labeur \u00e9tait de peu de prix, et\nil importait peu que je l\u2019employasse d\u2019une mani\u00e8re ou d\u2019une autre.\nComme je l\u2019ai dit plus haut, je me fis en premier lieu une chaise\net une table, et je me servis, pour cela, des bouts de bordages que\nj\u2019avais tir\u00e9s du navire. Quand j\u2019eus fa\u00e7onn\u00e9 des planches, je pla\u00e7ai\nde grandes tablettes, larges d\u2019un pied et demi, l\u2019une au-dessus de\nl\u2019autre, tout le long d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 de ma grotte, pour poser mes outils,\nmes clous, ma ferraille, en un mot pour assigner \u00e0 chaque chose sa\nplace, et pouvoir les trouver ais\u00e9ment. J\u2019enfon\u00e7ai aussi quelques\nchevilles dans la paroi du rocher pour y pendre mes mousquets et tout\nce qui pouvait se suspendre.\nSi quelqu\u2019un avait pu visiter ma grotte, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr elle lui aurait\nsembl\u00e9 un entrep\u00f4t g\u00e9n\u00e9ral d\u2019objets de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9. J\u2019avais ainsi toute\nchose si bien \u00e0 ma main, que j\u2019\u00e9prouvais un vrai plaisir \u00e0 voir le bel\nordre de mes effets, et surtout \u00e0 me voir \u00e0 la t\u00eate d\u2019une si grande\nprovision.\nCe fut seulement alors que je me mis \u00e0 tenir un journal de mon\noccupation de chaque jour; car, dans les commencements, j\u2019\u00e9tais trop\nembarrass\u00e9 de travaux et j\u2019avais l\u2019esprit dans un trop grand trouble;\nmon journal n\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 rempli que de choses attristantes. Par exemple,\nil aurait fallu que je parlasse ainsi: \u00abLE 30 SEPTEMBRE, apr\u00e8s avoir\ngagn\u00e9 le rivage; apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9chapp\u00e9 \u00e0 la mort, au lieu de remercier\nDieu de ma d\u00e9livrance, ayant rendu d\u2019abord une grande quantit\u00e9\nd\u2019eau sal\u00e9e, et m\u2019\u00e9tant assez bien remis, je courus \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 sur le\nrivage, tordant mes mains, frappant mon front et ma face, invectivant\ncontre ma mis\u00e8re, et criant: \u00abJe suis perdu! perdu!...\u00bb jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce\nqu\u2019affaibli et harass\u00e9, je fus forc\u00e9 de m\u2019\u00e9tendre sur le sol, o\u00f9 je\nn\u2019osai pas dormir de peur d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9.\n\u00abQuelques jours plus tard, apr\u00e8s mes voyages au b\u00e2timent, et apr\u00e8s\nque j\u2019en eus tout retir\u00e9, je ne pouvais encore m\u2019emp\u00eacher de gravir\nsur le sommet d\u2019une petite montagne, et l\u00e0 de regarder en mer, dans\nl\u2019esp\u00e9rance d\u2019y apercevoir un navire. Alors j\u2019imaginais voir poindre\nune voile dans le lointain. Je me complaisais dans cet espoir; mais\napr\u00e8s avoir regard\u00e9 fixement jusqu\u2019\u00e0 en \u00eatre presque aveugl\u00e9, mais\napr\u00e8s cette vision \u00e9vanouie je m\u2019asseyais et je pleurais comme un\nenfant. Ainsi j\u2019accroissais mes mis\u00e8res par ma folie.\u00bb\nAyant surmont\u00e9 ces faiblesses, et mon domicile et mon ameublement\n\u00e9tant \u00e9tablis aussi bien que possible, je commen\u00e7ai mon journal, dont\nje vais ici vous donner la copie aussi loin que je pus le poursuivre;\ncar mon encre une fois us\u00e9e, je fus dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de l\u2019interrompre.\nJOURNAL\n30 SEPTEMBRE 1659\nMoi, pauvre mis\u00e9rable ROBINSON CRUSO\u00c9, apr\u00e8s avoir fait naufrage\nau large durant une horrible temp\u00eate, tout l\u2019\u00e9quipage \u00e9tant noy\u00e9,\nmoi-m\u00eame \u00e9tant \u00e0 demi mort, j\u2019abordai \u00e0 cette \u00eele infortun\u00e9e, que je\nnommai l\u2019ILE DU D\u00c9SESPOIR.\nJe passai tout le reste du jour \u00e0 m\u2019affliger de l\u2019\u00e9tat affreux o\u00f9\nj\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9duit: sans nourriture, sans demeure, sans v\u00eatements, sans\narmes, sans lieu de refuge, sans aucune esp\u00e8ce de secours, je ne\nvoyais rien devant moi que la mort, soit que je dusse \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par\nles b\u00eates ou tu\u00e9 par les sauvages, ou que je dusse p\u00e9rir de faim. A\nla brune je montai sur un arbre, de peur des animaux f\u00e9roces, et je\ndormis profond\u00e9ment, quoiqu\u2019il pl\u00fbt toute la nuit.\nOCTOBRE\nLe 1er.\u2014A ma grande surprise, j\u2019aper\u00e7us, le matin, que le vaisseau\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 soulev\u00e9 par la mar\u00e9e montante, et entra\u00een\u00e9 beaucoup plus\npr\u00e8s du rivage. D\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9, ce fut une consolation pour moi; car le\nvoyant entier et dress\u00e9 sur sa quille, je con\u00e7us l\u2019esp\u00e9rance, si le\nvent venait \u00e0 s\u2019abattre, d\u2019aller \u00e0 bord et d\u2019en tirer les vivres\nou les choses n\u00e9cessaires pour mon soulagement. D\u2019un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9,\nce spectacle renouvela la douleur que je ressentais de la perte de\nmes camarades; j\u2019imaginais que si nous \u00e9tions demeur\u00e9s \u00e0 bord, nous\neussions pu sauver le navire, ou qu\u2019au moins mes compagnons n\u2019eussent\npas \u00e9t\u00e9 noy\u00e9s comme ils l\u2019\u00e9taient, et que, si tout l\u2019\u00e9quipage avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9serv\u00e9, peut-\u00eatre nous eussions pu construire avec les d\u00e9bris\ndu b\u00e2timent une embarcation qui nous aurait port\u00e9s en quelque endroit\ndu monde. Je passai une grande partie de la journ\u00e9e \u00e0 tourmenter mon\n\u00e2me de ces regrets; mais enfin, voyant le b\u00e2timent presque \u00e0 sec,\nj\u2019avan\u00e7ai sur la gr\u00e8ve aussi loin que je pus, et me mis \u00e0 la nage\npour aller \u00e0 bord. Il continua de pleuvoir tout le jour, mais il ne\nfaisait point de vent.\nDu 1er au 24.\u2014Toutes ces journ\u00e9es furent employ\u00e9es \u00e0 faire plusieurs\nvoyages pour tirer du vaisseau tout ce que je pouvais, et l\u2019amener \u00e0\nterre sur des radeaux \u00e0 la faveur de chaque mar\u00e9e montante. Il plut\nbeaucoup durant cet intervalle, quoique avec quelque lueur de beau\ntemps: il para\u00eet que c\u2019\u00e9tait la saison pluvieuse.\nLe 20.\u2014Je renversai mon radeau et tous les objets que j\u2019avais mis\ndessus; mais, comme c\u2019\u00e9tait dans une eau peu profonde, et que la\ncargaison se composait surtout d\u2019objets pesants, j\u2019en recouvrai une\npartie quand la mar\u00e9e se fut retir\u00e9e.\nLe 25.\u2014Tout le jour et toute la nuit il tomba une pluie accompagn\u00e9e\nde rafale; durant ce temps le navire se brisa, et le vent ayant\nsouffl\u00e9 plus violemment encore, il disparut, et je ne pus apercevoir\nses d\u00e9bris qu\u2019\u00e0 mer \u00e9tale seulement. Je passai ce jour-l\u00e0 \u00e0 mettre\n\u00e0 l\u2019abri les effets que j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9s, de crainte qu\u2019ils ne\ns\u2019endommageassent \u00e0 la pluie.\nLe 26.\u2014Je parcourus le rivage presque tout le jour, pour trouver une\nplace o\u00f9 je pusse fixer mon habitation; j\u2019\u00e9tais fort inquiet de me\nmettre \u00e0 couvert, pendant la nuit, des attaques des hommes et des\nb\u00eates sauvages. Vers le soir je m\u2019\u00e9tablis en un lieu convenable, au\npied d\u2019un rocher, et je tra\u00e7ai un demi-cercle pour mon campement,\nque je r\u00e9solus d\u2019entourer de fortifications compos\u00e9es d\u2019une double\npalissade fourr\u00e9e de c\u00e2bles et renformie de gazon.\nDu 26 au 30.\u2014Je travaillai rudement \u00e0 transporter tous mes bagages\ndans ma nouvelle habitation, quoiqu\u2019il pl\u00fbt excessivement fort une\npartie de ce temps-l\u00e0.\nLe 31.\u2014Dans la matin\u00e9e je sortis avec mon fusil pour chercher quelque\nnourriture et reconna\u00eetre le pays; je tuai une ch\u00e8vre, dont le\nchevreau me suivit jusque chez moi; mais, dans la suite, comme il\nrefusait de manger, je le tuai aussi.\nNOVEMBRE\nLe 1er.\u2014Je dressai ma tente au pied du rocher, et j\u2019y couchai pour la\npremi\u00e8re nuit. Je l\u2019avais faite aussi grande que possible avec des\npiquets que j\u2019y avais plant\u00e9s, et auxquels j\u2019avais suspendu mon hamac.\nLe 2.\u2014J\u2019entassai tous mes coffres, toutes mes planches et tout le\nbois de construction dont j\u2019avais fait mon radeau, et m\u2019en formai un\nrempart autour de moi, un peu en dedans de la ligne que j\u2019avais trac\u00e9e\npour mes fortifications.\nLe 3.\u2014Je sortis avec mon fusil et je tuai deux oiseaux semblables \u00e0\ndes canards, qui furent un excellent manger. Dans l\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi, je me\nmis \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre pour faire une table.\nLe 4.\u2014Je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 r\u00e9gler mon temps de travail et de sortie, mon\ntemps de repos et de r\u00e9cr\u00e9ation, et suivant cette r\u00e8gle que je\ncontinuai d\u2019observer, le matin, s\u2019il ne pleuvait pas, je sortais avec\nmon fusil pour deux ou trois heures; je travaillais ensuite jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nonze heures environ, puis je mangeais ce que je pouvais avoir; de\nmidi \u00e0 deux heures, je me couchais pour dormir, \u00e0 cause de la chaleur\naccablante; et, dans la soir\u00e9e, je me remettais \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage. Tout mon\ntemps de travail de ce jour-l\u00e0 et du suivant fut employ\u00e9 \u00e0 me faire\nune table; car je n\u2019\u00e9tais alors qu\u2019un triste ouvrier; mais bient\u00f4t\napr\u00e8s, le temps et la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 firent de moi un parfait artisan,\ncomme ils l\u2019auraient fait, je pense, de tout autre.\nLe 5.\u2014Je sortis avec mon fusil et mon chien, et je tuai un chat\nsauvage; sa peau \u00e9tait assez douce, mais sa chair ne valait rien.\nJ\u2019\u00e9corchais chaque animal que je tuais, et j\u2019en conservais la peau.\nEn revenant le long du rivage, je vis plusieurs esp\u00e8ces d\u2019oiseaux de\nmer qui m\u2019\u00e9taient inconnus; mais je fus \u00e9tonn\u00e9 et presque effray\u00e9 par\ndeux ou trois veaux marins, qui, tandis que je les fixais du regard,\nne sachant pas trop ce qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient, se culbut\u00e8rent dans l\u2019eau et\nm\u2019\u00e9chapp\u00e8rent pour cette fois.\nLe 6.\u2014Apr\u00e8s ma promenade du matin, je me mis \u00e0 travailler de nouveau \u00e0\nma table, et je l\u2019achevai, non pas \u00e0 ma fantaisie; mais il ne se passa\npas longtemps avant que je fusse en \u00e9tat d\u2019en corriger les d\u00e9fauts.\nLe 7.\u2014Le ciel commen\u00e7a \u00e0 se mettre au beau. Les 7, 8, 9, 10, et une\npartie du 12,\u2014le 11 \u00e9tait un dimanche,\u2014je passai tout mon temps \u00e0 me\nfabriquer une chaise, et, avec beaucoup de peine, je l\u2019amenai \u00e0 une\nforme passable; mais elle ne put jamais me plaire, et m\u00eame, en la\nfaisant, je la d\u00e9montai plusieurs fois.\nNOTA.\u2014Je n\u00e9gligeai bient\u00f4t l\u2019observation des dimanches: car ayant omis\nde faire la marque qui les d\u00e9signait sur mon poteau, j\u2019oubliai quand\ntombait ce jour.\nLe 13.\u2014Il fit une pluie qui humecta la terre et me rafra\u00eechit\nbeaucoup; mais elle fut accompagn\u00e9e d\u2019un coup de tonnerre et d\u2019un\n\u00e9clair, qui m\u2019effray\u00e8rent horriblement, \u00e0 cause de ma poudre. Aussit\u00f4t\nqu\u2019ils furent pass\u00e9s, je r\u00e9solus de s\u00e9parer ma provision de poudre en\nautant de petits paquets que possible, pour la mettre hors de tout\ndanger.\nLes 14, 15 et 16.\u2014Je passai ces trois jours \u00e0 faire des bo\u00eetes ou de\npetites caisses carr\u00e9es qui pouvaient contenir une livre de poudre ou\ndeux tout au plus; et, les ayant emplies, je les mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9, et\naussi \u00e9loign\u00e9es les unes des autres que possible. L\u2019un de ces trois\njours, je tuai un gros oiseau qui \u00e9tait bon \u00e0 manger; mais je ne sus\nquel nom lui donner.\nLe 17.\u2014Je commen\u00e7ai, en ce jour, \u00e0 creuser le roc derri\u00e8re ma tente,\npour ajouter \u00e0 mes commodit\u00e9s.\nNOTA.\u2014Il me manquait, pour ce travail, trois choses absolument\nn\u00e9cessaires, savoir: un pic, une pelle et une brouette ou un panier.\nJe discontinuai donc mon travail, et me mis \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur les moyens\nde suppl\u00e9er \u00e0 ce besoin, et de me faire quelques outils. Je rempla\u00e7ai\nle pic par des leviers de fer, qui \u00e9taient assez propres \u00e0 cela,\nquoique un peu lourds; pour la pelle ou b\u00eache, qui \u00e9tait la seconde\nchose dont j\u2019avais besoin, elle m\u2019\u00e9tait d\u2019une si absolue n\u00e9cessit\u00e9,\nque, sans cela, je ne pouvais r\u00e9ellement rien faire. Mais je ne savais\npar quoi la remplacer.\nLe 18.\u2014En cherchant dans les bois, je trouvai un arbre qui \u00e9tait\nsemblable, ou tout au moins ressemblait beaucoup \u00e0 celui qu\u2019au Br\u00e9sil\non appelle BOIS DE FER, \u00e0 cause de son excessive duret\u00e9. J\u2019en coupai\nune pi\u00e8ce avec une peine extr\u00eame et en g\u00e2tant presque ma hache; je\nn\u2019eus pas moins de difficult\u00e9 pour l\u2019amener jusque chez moi, car elle\n\u00e9tait extr\u00eamement lourde.\nLa duret\u00e9 excessive de ce bois, et le manque de moyens d\u2019ex\u00e9cution,\nfirent que je demeurai longtemps \u00e0 fa\u00e7onner cet instrument; ce ne fut\nque petit \u00e0 petit que je pus lui donner la forme d\u2019une pelle ou d\u2019une\nb\u00eache. Son manche \u00e9tait exactement fait comme \u00e0 celles dont on se\nsert en Angleterre; mais sa partie plate n\u2019\u00e9tant pas ferr\u00e9e, elle ne\npouvait pas \u00eatre d\u2019un aussi long usage. N\u00e9anmoins elle remplit assez\nbien son office dans toutes les occasions que j\u2019eus de m\u2019en servir.\nJamais pelle, je pense, ne fut faite de cette fa\u00e7on et ne fut si\nlongue \u00e0 fabriquer.\nMais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas tout; il me manquait encore un panier ou une\nbrouette. Un panier, il m\u2019\u00e9tait de toute impossibilit\u00e9 d\u2019en faire,\nn\u2019ayant rien de semblable \u00e0 des baguettes ployantes propres \u00e0 tresser\nde la vannerie, du moins je n\u2019en avais point encore d\u00e9couvert. Quant\n\u00e0 la brouette, je m\u2019imaginais que je pourrais en venir \u00e0 bout, \u00e0\nl\u2019exception de la roue, dont je n\u2019avais aucune notion, et que je ne\nsavais comment entreprendre. D\u2019ailleurs je n\u2019avais rien pour forger le\ngoujon de fer qui devait passer dans l\u2019axe ou le moyeu. J\u2019y renon\u00e7ai\ndonc; et, pour emporter la terre que je tirais de la grotte, je me fis\nune machine semblable \u00e0 l\u2019oiseau dans lequel les man\u0153uvres portent le\nmortier quand ils servent les ma\u00e7ons.\nLa fa\u00e7on de ce dernier ustensile me pr\u00e9senta moins de difficult\u00e9 que\ncelle de la pelle; n\u00e9anmoins l\u2019une et l\u2019autre, et la malheureuse\ntentative que je fis de construire une brouette, ne me prirent pas\nmoins de quatre journ\u00e9es, en exceptant toujours le temps de ma\npromenade du matin avec mon fusil; je la manquais rarement, et\nrarement aussi manquais-je d\u2019en rapporter quelque chose \u00e0 manger.\nLe 23.\u2014Mon autre travail ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 interrompu pour la fabrication\nde ces outils, d\u00e8s qu\u2019ils furent achev\u00e9s je le repris, et, tout en\nfaisant ce que le temps et mes forces me permettaient, je passai\ndix-huit jours entiers \u00e0 \u00e9largir et \u00e0 creuser ma grotte, afin qu\u2019elle\np\u00fbt loger mes meubles plus commod\u00e9ment.\nDurant tout ce temps je travaillai \u00e0 faire cette chambre ou cette\ngrotte assez spacieuse pour me servir d\u2019entrep\u00f4t, de magasin, de\ncuisine, de salle \u00e0 manger et de cellier. Quant \u00e0 mon logement, je me\ntenais dans ma tente, hormis quelques jours de la saison humide de\nl\u2019ann\u00e9e, o\u00f9 il pleuvait si fort que je ne pouvais y \u00eatre \u00e0 l\u2019abri; ce\nqui m\u2019obligea, plus tard, \u00e0 couvrir tout mon enclos de longues perches\nen forme de chevrons, buttant contre le rocher, et \u00e0 les charger de\ngla\u00efeuls et de grandes feuilles d\u2019arbres, en guise de chaume.\nD\u00c9CEMBRE\nLe 10.\u2014Je commen\u00e7ais alors \u00e0 regarder ma grotte ou ma vo\u00fbte comme\ntermin\u00e9e, lorsque tout \u00e0 coup,\u2014sans doute je l\u2019avais faite trop\nvaste,\u2014une grande quantit\u00e9 de terre \u00e9boula du haut de l\u2019un des c\u00f4t\u00e9s;\nj\u2019en fus, en un mot, tr\u00e8s \u00e9pouvant\u00e9, et non pas sans raison; car,\nsi je m\u2019\u00e9tais trouv\u00e9 dessous, je n\u2019aurais jamais eu besoin d\u2019un\nfossoyeur. Pour r\u00e9parer cet accident, j\u2019eus \u00e9norm\u00e9ment de besogne; il\nfallut emporter la terre qui s\u2019\u00e9tait d\u00e9tach\u00e9e; et, ce qui \u00e9tait encore\nplus important, il fallut \u00e9tan\u00e7onner la vo\u00fbte, afin que je pusse \u00eatre\nbien s\u00fbr qu\u2019il ne s\u2019\u00e9croulerait plus rien.\nLe 11.\u2014Cons\u00e9quemment je travaillai \u00e0 cela, et je pla\u00e7ai deux \u00e9tais ou\npoteaux pos\u00e9s \u00e0 plomb sous le ciel de la grotte, avec deux morceaux\nde planche mis en croix sur chacun. Je terminai cet ouvrage le\nlendemain; puis, ajoutant encore des \u00e9tais garnis de couches, au bout\nd\u2019une semaine environ j\u2019eus mon plafond assur\u00e9; et, comme ces poteaux\n\u00e9taient plac\u00e9s en rang, ils me servirent de cloisons pour distribuer\nmon logis.\nLe 17.\u2014A partir de ce jour jusqu\u2019au vingti\u00e8me, je posai des tablettes\net je fichai des clous sur les poteaux pour suspendre tout ce qui\npouvait s\u2019accrocher; je commen\u00e7ai, d\u00e8s lors, \u00e0 avoir mon int\u00e9rieur en\nassez bon ordre.\nLe 20.\u2014Je portai tout mon bataclan dans ma grotte; je me mis \u00e0 meubler\nma maison, et j\u2019assemblai quelques bouts de planche en mani\u00e8re de\ntable de cuisine, pour appr\u00eater mes viandes dessus; mais les planches\ncommen\u00e7aient \u00e0 devenir fort rares par devers moi; aussi ne fis-je plus\naucune autre table.\nLe 24.\u2014Beaucoup de pluie toute la nuit et tout le jour; je ne sortis\npas.\nLe 25.\u2014Pluie toute la journ\u00e9e.\nLe 26.\u2014Point de pluie; la terre \u00e9tait alors plus fra\u00eeche qu\u2019auparavant\net plus agr\u00e9able.\nLe 27.\u2014Je tuai un chevreau et j\u2019en estropiai un autre qu\u2019alors je pus\nattraper et amener en laisse \u00e0 la maison. D\u00e8s que je fus arriv\u00e9, je\nliai avec des \u00e9clisses l\u2019une de ses jambes qui \u00e9tait cass\u00e9e.\nNOTA.\u2014J\u2019en pris un tel soin, qu\u2019il surv\u00e9cut, et que sa jambe redevint\naussi forte que jamais; et, comme je le soignai ainsi fort longtemps,\nil s\u2019apprivoisa et paissait sur la pelouse, devant ma porte, sans\nchercher aucunement \u00e0 s\u2019enfuir. Ce fut la premi\u00e8re fois que je con\u00e7us\nla pens\u00e9e de nourrir des animaux priv\u00e9s, pour me fournir d\u2019aliments\nquand toute ma poudre et tout mon plomb seraient consomm\u00e9s.\nLes 28, 29 et 30.\u2014Grandes chaleurs et pas de brise; si bien qu\u2019il\nne m\u2019\u00e9tait possible de sortir que sur le soir pour chercher ma\nsubsistance. Je passai ce temps \u00e0 mettre tous mes effets en ordre dans\nmon habitation.\nJANVIER 1660.\nLe 1er.\u2014Chaleur toujours excessive. Je sortis pourtant de grand matin\net sur le tard avec mon fusil, et je me reposai dans le milieu du\njour. Ce soir-l\u00e0, m\u2019\u00e9tant avanc\u00e9 dans les vall\u00e9es situ\u00e9es vers le\ncentre de l\u2019\u00eele, j\u2019y d\u00e9couvris une grande quantit\u00e9 de boucs, mais\ntr\u00e8s farouches et tr\u00e8s difficiles \u00e0 approcher; je r\u00e9solus cependant\nd\u2019essayer si je ne pourrais pas dresser mon chien \u00e0 les chasser par\ndevers moi.\nLe 2.\u2014En cons\u00e9quence, je sortis le lendemain avec mon chien, et je le\nlan\u00e7ai contre les boucs; mais je fus d\u00e9sappoint\u00e9, car tous lui firent\nface; et, comme il comprit parfaitement le danger, il ne voulut pas\nm\u00eame se risquer pr\u00e8s d\u2019eux.\n[Illustration: Tous lui firent face.]\nLe 3.\u2014Je commen\u00e7ai mon retranchement ou ma muraille; et, comme j\u2019avais\ntoujours quelque crainte d\u2019\u00eatre attaqu\u00e9, je r\u00e9solus de le faire tr\u00e8s\n\u00e9pais et tr\u00e8s solide.\nNOTA.\u2014Cette cl\u00f4ture ayant d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9crite, j\u2019omets \u00e0 dessein dans ce\n_Journal_ ce que j\u2019en ai dit plus haut. Il suffira de prier d\u2019observer\nque je n\u2019employai pas moins de temps que depuis le 3 janvier jusqu\u2019au\n14 avril pour l\u2019\u00e9tablir, la terminer et la perfectionner, quoiqu\u2019elle\nn\u2019e\u00fbt pas plus de vingt-quatre verges d\u2019\u00e9tendue; elle d\u00e9crivait un\ndemi-cercle \u00e0 partir d\u2019un point du rocher jusqu\u2019\u00e0 un second point\n\u00e9loign\u00e9 du premier d\u2019environ huit verges, et, dans le fond, juste au\ncentre, se trouvait la porte de ma grotte.\nJe travaillai tr\u00e8s p\u00e9niblement durant tout cet intervalle, contrari\u00e9\npar les pluies non seulement plusieurs jours, mais quelquefois\nplusieurs semaines de suite. Je m\u2019\u00e9tais imagin\u00e9 que je ne saurais \u00eatre\nparfaitement \u00e0 couvert avant que ce rempart f\u00fbt enti\u00e8rement achev\u00e9.\nIl est aussi difficile de croire que d\u2019exprimer la peine que me co\u00fbta\nchaque chose, surtout le transport des pieux depuis les bois, et leur\nenfoncement dans le sol; car je les avais faits beaucoup plus gros\nqu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire. Cette palissade termin\u00e9e, et son ext\u00e9rieur\n\u00e9tant doublement d\u00e9fendu par un rev\u00eatement de gazon adoss\u00e9 contre pour\nla dissimuler, je me persuadai que s\u2019il advenait qu\u2019on abord\u00e2t sur\ncette terre, on n\u2019apercevrait rien qui ressembl\u00e2t \u00e0 une habitation; et\nce fut fort heureusement que je la fis ainsi, comme on pourra le voir\npar la suite dans une occasion remarquable.\nChaque jour j\u2019allais chasser et faire ma ronde dans les bois, \u00e0 moins\nque la pluie ne m\u2019en emp\u00each\u00e2t, et dans ces promenades je faisais\nassez souvent la d\u00e9couverte d\u2019une chose ou d\u2019une autre \u00e0 mon profit.\nJe trouvais surtout une sorte de pigeons sauvages qui ne nichaient\npoint sur les arbres comme font les ramiers, mais dans des trous de\nrocher, \u00e0 la mani\u00e8re des pigeons domestiques. Je pris quelques-uns de\nleurs petits pour essayer de les nourrir et de les apprivoiser, et j\u2019y\nr\u00e9ussis. Mais quand ils furent plus grands, il s\u2019envol\u00e8rent; le manque\nde nourriture en fut la principale cause, car je n\u2019avais rien \u00e0 leur\ndonner. Quoi qu\u2019il en soit, je d\u00e9couvrais fr\u00e9quemment leurs nids, et\nj\u2019y prenais leurs pigeonneaux dont la chair \u00e9tait excellente.\n[Illustration: C\u2019\u00e9tait une sorte de pigeons sauvages.]\nEn administrant mon m\u00e9nage, je m\u2019aper\u00e7us qu\u2019il me manquait beaucoup de\nchoses, que de prime abord je me crus incapable de fabriquer, ce qui\nau fait se v\u00e9rifia pour quelques-unes: par exemple, je ne pus jamais\namener une futaille au point d\u2019\u00eatre cercl\u00e9e. J\u2019avais un petit baril ou\ndeux, comme je l\u2019ai not\u00e9 plus haut; mais il fut tout \u00e0 fait hors de ma\nport\u00e9e d\u2019en faire un sur leur mod\u00e8le; j\u2019employai pourtant plusieurs\nsemaines \u00e0 cette tentative: je ne sus jamais l\u2019assembler sur ses fonds\nni joindre assez exactement ses douves pour y faire tenir de l\u2019eau;\nainsi je fus encore oblig\u00e9 de passer outre.\nEn second lieu, j\u2019\u00e9tais dans une grande p\u00e9nurie de lumi\u00e8re; sit\u00f4t\nqu\u2019il faisait nuit, ce qui arrivait ordinairement vers sept heures,\nj\u2019\u00e9tais forc\u00e9 de me mettre au lit. Je me ressouvins de la masse de\ncire vierge dont j\u2019avais fait des chandelles pendant mon aventure\nd\u2019Afrique; mais je n\u2019en avais point alors. Mon unique ressource fut\ndonc, quand j\u2019eus tu\u00e9 une ch\u00e8vre, d\u2019en conserver la graisse, et avec\nune petite \u00e9cuelle de terre glaise, que j\u2019avais fait cuire au soleil\net dans laquelle je mis une m\u00e8che d\u2019\u00e9toupe, de me faire une lampe dont\nla flamme me donna une lueur, mais une lueur moins constante et plus\nsombre que la clart\u00e9 d\u2019un flambeau.\nAu milieu de tous mes travaux il m\u2019arriva de trouver, en visitant\nmes bagages, un petit sac qui, ainsi que je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait savoir,\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 empli de grains pour la nourriture de la volaille \u00e0 bord du\nvaisseau,\u2014non pas lors de notre voyage, mais, je le suppose, lors de\nson pr\u00e9c\u00e9dent retour de Lisbonne.\u2014Le peu de grains qui \u00e9tait rest\u00e9\ndans le sac avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tout d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par les rats, et je n\u2019y voyais plus\nque de la balle et de la poussi\u00e8re; or, ayant besoin de ce sac pour\nquelque autre usage,\u2014c\u2019\u00e9tait, je crois, pour y mettre de la poudre\nlorsque je la partageai de crainte du tonnerre,\u2014j\u2019allai en secouer la\nballe au pied du rocher, sur un des c\u00f4t\u00e9s de mes fortifications.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait un peu avant les grandes pluies mentionn\u00e9es pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment que\nje jetai cette poussi\u00e8re sans y prendre garde, pas m\u00eame assez pour\nme souvenir que j\u2019avais vid\u00e9 l\u00e0 quelque chose. Quand, au bout d\u2019un\nmois ou environ, j\u2019aper\u00e7us quelques tiges vertes qui sortaient de\nterre, j\u2019imaginai d\u2019abord que c\u2019\u00e9taient quelques plantes que je ne\nconnaissais point; mais quels furent ma surprise et mon \u00e9tonnement\nlorsque peu de temps apr\u00e8s je vis environ dix ou douze \u00e9pis d\u2019une orge\nverte et parfaite, de la m\u00eame qualit\u00e9 que celle d\u2019Europe, voire m\u00eame\nque notre orge d\u2019Angleterre.\n[Illustration: J\u2019aper\u00e7us quelques tiges vertes qui sortaient de terre.]\nIl serait impossible d\u2019exprimer mon \u00e9bahissement et le trouble de mon\nesprit \u00e0 cette occasion. Jusque-l\u00e0 ma conduite ne s\u2019\u00e9tait appuy\u00e9e\nsur aucun principe religieux; au fait, j\u2019avais tr\u00e8s peu de notions\nreligieuses dans la t\u00eate, et dans tout ce qui m\u2019\u00e9tait advenu je\nn\u2019avais vu que l\u2019effet du hasard, ou, comme on dit l\u00e9g\u00e8rement, du bon\nplaisir de Dieu; sans m\u00eame chercher, en ce cas, \u00e0 p\u00e9n\u00e9trer les fins\nde la Providence et son ordre qui r\u00e9git les \u00e9v\u00e9nements de ce monde.\nMais apr\u00e8s que j\u2019eus vu cro\u00eetre de l\u2019orge dans un climat que je savais\nn\u2019\u00eatre pas propre \u00e0 ce grain, surtout ne sachant pas comment il \u00e9tait\nvenu l\u00e0, je fus \u00e9trangement \u00e9merveill\u00e9, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me mettre\ndans l\u2019esprit que Dieu avait miraculeusement fait pousser cette orge\nsans le concours d\u2019aucune semence, uniquement pour me faire subsister\ndans ce mis\u00e9rable d\u00e9sert.\nCela me toucha un peu le c\u0153ur et me fit couler des larmes des yeux, et\nje commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me f\u00e9liciter de ce qu\u2019un tel prodige e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 op\u00e9r\u00e9 en\nma faveur; mais le comble de l\u2019\u00e9trange pour moi, ce fut de voir pr\u00e8s\ndes premi\u00e8res, tout le long du rocher, quelques tiges \u00e9parpill\u00e9es qui\nsemblaient \u00eatre des tiges de riz, et que je reconnus pour telles parce\nque j\u2019en avais vu cro\u00eetre quand j\u2019\u00e9tais sur les c\u00f4tes d\u2019Afrique.\nNon seulement je pensai que la Providence m\u2019envoyait ces pr\u00e9sents;\nmais, \u00e9tant persuad\u00e9 que sa lib\u00e9ralit\u00e9 devait s\u2019\u00e9tendre encore plus\nloin, je parcourus de nouveau toute cette portion de l\u2019\u00eele que j\u2019avais\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 visit\u00e9e, cherchant dans tous les coins et au pied de tous les\nrochers, dans l\u2019espoir de d\u00e9couvrir une plus grande quantit\u00e9 de ces\nplantes; mais je n\u2019en trouvai pas d\u2019autres. Enfin, il me revint \u00e0\nl\u2019esprit que j\u2019avais secou\u00e9 en cet endroit le sac qui avait contenu\nla nourriture de la volaille, et le miracle commen\u00e7a \u00e0 dispara\u00eetre.\nJe dois l\u2019avouer, ma religieuse reconnaissance envers la providence\nde Dieu s\u2019\u00e9vanouit aussit\u00f4t que j\u2019eus d\u00e9couvert qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait rien\nque de naturel dans cet \u00e9v\u00e9nement. Cependant il \u00e9tait si \u00e9trange et\nsi inopin\u00e9, qu\u2019il ne m\u00e9ritait pas moins ma gratitude que s\u2019il e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 miraculeux. En effet, n\u2019\u00e9tait-ce pas tout aussi bien l\u2019\u0153uvre de\nla Providence que s\u2019ils \u00e9taient tomb\u00e9s du ciel, que ces dix ou douze\ngrains fussent rest\u00e9s intacts quand tout le reste avait \u00e9t\u00e9 ravag\u00e9 par\nles rats; et, qu\u2019en outre, je les eusse jet\u00e9s pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment dans ce lieu\nabrit\u00e9 par une roche \u00e9lev\u00e9e, o\u00f9 ils avaient pu germer aussit\u00f4t; tandis\nqu\u2019en cette saison, partout ailleurs, ils auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 br\u00fbl\u00e9s par le\nsoleil et d\u00e9truits?\nComme on peut le croire, je recueillis soigneusement les \u00e9pis de\nces bl\u00e9s dans leur saison, ce qui fut environ \u00e0 la fin de juin;\net, mettant en r\u00e9serve jusqu\u2019au moindre grain, je r\u00e9solus de semer\ntout ce que j\u2019en avais, dans l\u2019esp\u00e9rance qu\u2019avec le temps j\u2019en\nr\u00e9colterais assez pour faire du pain. Quatre ann\u00e9es s\u2019\u00e9coul\u00e8rent avant\nque je pusse me permettre d\u2019en manger; encore n\u2019en usai-je qu\u2019avec\nm\u00e9nagement, comme je le dirai plus tard en son lieu: car tout ce que\nje confiai \u00e0 la terre, la premi\u00e8re fois, fut perdu pour avoir mal pris\nmon temps en le semant justement avant la saison s\u00e8che; de sorte qu\u2019il\nne poussa pas, ou poussa tout au moins fort mal. Nous reviendrons\nl\u00e0-dessus.\nOutre cette orge, il y avait vingt ou trente tiges de riz, que je\nconservai avec le m\u00eame soin et dans le m\u00eame but, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire pour me\nfaire du pain ou plut\u00f4t diverses sortes de mets; j\u2019avais trouv\u00e9 le\nmoyen de cuire sans four, bien que plus tard j\u2019en aie fait un. Mais\nretournons \u00e0 mon journal.\nJe travaillai tr\u00e8s assid\u00fbment pendant ces trois mois et demi \u00e0 la\nconstruction de ma muraille. Le 14 avril, je la fermai, me r\u00e9servant\nde p\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans mon enceinte au moyen d\u2019une \u00e9chelle, et non point\nd\u2019une porte, afin qu\u2019aucun signe ext\u00e9rieur ne p\u00fbt trahir mon\nhabitation.\nAVRIL\nLe 16.\u2014Je terminai mon \u00e9chelle, dont je me servais ainsi: d\u2019abord je\nmontais sur le haut de la palissade, puis je l\u2019amenais \u00e0 moi et la\nrepla\u00e7ais en dedans. Ma demeure me parut alors compl\u00e8te; car j\u2019y avais\nassez de place dans l\u2019int\u00e9rieur, et rien ne pouvait venir \u00e0 moi du\ndehors, \u00e0 moins de passer d\u2019abord par-dessus ma muraille.\nJuste le lendemain que cet ouvrage fut achev\u00e9, je faillis voir tous\nmes travaux renvers\u00e9s d\u2019un seul coup, et perdre moi-m\u00eame la vie. Voici\ncomment: j\u2019\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 derri\u00e8re ma tente, \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e de ma grotte,\nlorsque je fus horriblement effray\u00e9 par une chose vraiment affreuse;\ntout \u00e0 coup la terre s\u2019\u00e9boula de la vo\u00fbte de ma grotte et du flanc de\nla montagne qui me dominait, et deux des poteaux que j\u2019avais plac\u00e9s\ndans ma grotte craqu\u00e8rent effroyablement. Je fus remu\u00e9 jusque dans les\nentrailles; mais, ne soup\u00e7onnant pas la cause r\u00e9elle de ce fracas, je\npensai seulement que c\u2019\u00e9tait la vo\u00fbte de ma grotte qui croulait, comme\nelle avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 croul\u00e9 en partie. De peur d\u2019\u00eatre englouti, je courus\nvers mon \u00e9chelle, et, ne m\u2019y croyant pas encore en s\u00fbret\u00e9, je passai\npar-dessus ma muraille, pour \u00e9chapper \u00e0 des quartiers de rocher\nque je m\u2019attendais \u00e0 voir fondre sur moi. Sit\u00f4t que j\u2019eus pos\u00e9 le\npied hors de ma palissade, je reconnus qu\u2019il y avait un \u00e9pouvantable\ntremblement de terre. Le sol sur lequel j\u2019\u00e9tais s\u2019\u00e9branla trois fois\n\u00e0 environ huit minutes de distance, et ces trois secousses furent si\nviolentes, qu\u2019elles auraient pu renverser l\u2019\u00e9difice le plus solide qui\nait jamais \u00e9t\u00e9. Un fragment \u00e9norme se d\u00e9tacha de la cime d\u2019un rocher\nsitu\u00e9 proche de la mer, \u00e0 environ un demi-mille de moi, et tomba avec\nun tel bruit que, de ma vie, je n\u2019en avais entendu de pareil. L\u2019Oc\u00e9an\nm\u00eame me parut violemment agit\u00e9. Je pense que les secousses avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nplus fortes encore sous les flots que dans l\u2019\u00eele.\nN\u2019ayant jamais rien senti de semblable, ne sachant pas m\u00eame que cela\nexist\u00e2t, je fus tellement atterr\u00e9 que je restai l\u00e0 comme mort ou\nstup\u00e9fi\u00e9, et le mouvement de la terre me donna des naus\u00e9es comme \u00e0\nquelqu\u2019un ballott\u00e9 sur la mer. Mais le bruit de la chute du rocher me\nr\u00e9veilla, m\u2019arracha \u00e0 ma stupeur, et me remplit d\u2019effroi. Mon esprit\nn\u2019entrevit plus alors que l\u2019\u00e9croulement de la montagne sur ma tente\net l\u2019an\u00e9antissement de tous mes biens; et cette id\u00e9e replongea une\nseconde fois mon \u00e2me dans la torpeur.\nApr\u00e8s que la troisi\u00e8me secousse fut pass\u00e9e et qu\u2019il se fut \u00e9coul\u00e9\nquelque temps sans que j\u2019eusse rien senti de nouveau, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nreprendre courage; pourtant je n\u2019osais pas encore repasser par-dessus\nma muraille, de peur d\u2019\u00eatre enterr\u00e9 tout vif: je demeurais immobile,\nassis \u00e0 terre, profond\u00e9ment abattu et d\u00e9sol\u00e9, ne sachant que r\u00e9soudre\net que faire. Durant tout ce temps je n\u2019eus pas une seule pens\u00e9e\ns\u00e9rieuse de religion, si ce n\u2019est cette banale invocation: _Seigneur,\nayez piti\u00e9 de moi!_ qui cessa en m\u00eame temps que le p\u00e9ril.\nTandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais dans cette situation, je m\u2019aper\u00e7us que le ciel\ns\u2019obscurcissait et se couvrait de nuages comme s\u2019il allait pleuvoir;\nbient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s le vent se leva par degr\u00e9s, et en moins d\u2019une demi-heure\nun terrible ouragan se d\u00e9clara. La mer se couvrit tout \u00e0 coup d\u2019\u00e9cume,\nles flots inond\u00e8rent le rivage, les arbres se d\u00e9racin\u00e8rent: bref, ce\nfut une affreuse temp\u00eate. Elle dura pr\u00e8s de trois heures, ensuite elle\nalla en diminuant; et au bout de deux autres heures tout \u00e9tait rentr\u00e9\ndans le calme, et il commen\u00e7a \u00e0 pleuvoir abondamment.\nCependant j\u2019\u00e9tais toujours \u00e9tendu sur la terre, dans la terreur et\nl\u2019affliction, lorsque soudain je fis r\u00e9flexion que ces vents et cette\npluie \u00e9tant la cons\u00e9quence du tremblement de terre, il devait \u00eatre\npass\u00e9, et que je pouvais me hasarder \u00e0 retourner dans ma grotte. Cette\npens\u00e9e ranima mes esprits; et, la pluie aidant aussi \u00e0 me persuader,\nj\u2019allai m\u2019asseoir dans ma tente; mais la violence de l\u2019orage mena\u00e7ant\nde la renverser, je fus contraint de me retirer dans ma grotte,\nquoique j\u2019y fusse fort mal \u00e0 l\u2019aise, tremblant qu\u2019elle ne s\u2019\u00e9croul\u00e2t\nsur ma t\u00eate.\nCette pluie excessive m\u2019obligea \u00e0 un nouveau travail, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0\npratiquer une rigole au travers de mes fortifications, pour donner un\n\u00e9coulement aux eaux, qui, sans cela, auraient inond\u00e9 mon habitation.\nApr\u00e8s \u00eatre rest\u00e9 quelque temps dans ma grotte sans \u00e9prouver de\nnouvelles secousses, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre un peu plus rassur\u00e9; et, pour\nranimer mes sens, qui avaient grand besoin de l\u2019\u00eatre, j\u2019allai \u00e0 ma\npetite provision, et je pris une petite goutte de _rhum_; alors, comme\ntoujours, j\u2019en usai tr\u00e8s sobrement, sachant bien qu\u2019une fois bu il ne\nme serait pas possible d\u2019en avoir d\u2019autre.\nIl continua de pleuvoir durant toute la nuit et une grande partie du\nlendemain, ce qui m\u2019emp\u00eacha de sortir. L\u2019esprit plus calme, je me mis\n\u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur ce que j\u2019avais de mieux \u00e0 faire. Je conclus que l\u2019\u00eele\n\u00e9tant sujette aux tremblements de terre, je ne devais pas vivre dans\nune caverne et qu\u2019il me fallait songer \u00e0 construire une petite hutte\ndans un lieu d\u00e9couvert, que, pour ma s\u00fbret\u00e9, j\u2019entourerais \u00e9galement\nd\u2019un mur; persuad\u00e9 qu\u2019en restant o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais, je serais un jour ou\nl\u2019autre enterr\u00e9 tout vif.\nCes pens\u00e9es me d\u00e9termin\u00e8rent \u00e0 \u00e9loigner ma tente de l\u2019endroit qu\u2019elle\noccupait justement au-dessous d\u2019une montagne mena\u00e7ante qui, sans nul\ndoute, l\u2019ensevelirait \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re secousse. Je passai les deux\njours suivants, les 19 et 20 avril, \u00e0 chercher o\u00f9 et comment je\ntransporterais mon habitation.\nLa crainte d\u2019\u00eatre englouti vivant m\u2019emp\u00eachait de dormir tranquille, et\nla crainte de coucher dehors, sans aucune d\u00e9fense, \u00e9tait presque aussi\ngrande; mais quand, regardant autour de moi, je voyais le bel ordre\no\u00f9 j\u2019avais mis toute chose, et combien j\u2019\u00e9tais agr\u00e9ablement cach\u00e9\net \u00e0 l\u2019abri de tout danger, j\u2019\u00e9prouvais la plus grande r\u00e9pugnance \u00e0\nd\u00e9m\u00e9nager.\nDans ces entrefaites je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis que l\u2019ex\u00e9cution de ce projet me\ndemanderait beaucoup de temps, et qu\u2019il me fallait, malgr\u00e9 les\nrisques, rester o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je me fusse fait un\ncampement, et que je l\u2019eusse rendu assez s\u00fbr pour aller m\u2019y fixer.\nCette d\u00e9cision me tranquillisa pour un temps, et je r\u00e9solus de me\nmettre \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage avec toute la diligence possible, pour me b\u00e2tir\ndans un cercle, comme la premi\u00e8re fois, un mur de pieux, de c\u00e2bles,\netc., et d\u2019y \u00e9tablir ma tente quand il serait fini, mais de rester o\u00f9\nj\u2019\u00e9tais jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que cet enclos f\u00fbt termin\u00e9 et pr\u00eat \u00e0 me recevoir.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait le 21.\nLe 22.\u2014D\u00e8s le matin j\u2019avisai au moyen de r\u00e9aliser mon dessein, mais\nj\u2019\u00e9tais d\u00e9pourvu d\u2019outils. J\u2019avais trois grandes haches et une grande\nquantit\u00e9 de hachettes,\u2014car nous avions emport\u00e9 des hachettes pour\ntrafiquer avec les Indiens;\u2014mais \u00e0 force d\u2019avoir coup\u00e9 et taill\u00e9 des\nbois durs et noueux, elles \u00e9taient toutes \u00e9mouss\u00e9es et \u00e9br\u00e9ch\u00e9es.\nJe poss\u00e9dais bien une pierre \u00e0 aiguiser, mais je ne pouvais la faire\ntourner en m\u00eame temps que je repassais. Cette difficult\u00e9 me co\u00fbta\nautant de r\u00e9flexions qu\u2019un homme d\u2019\u00c9tat pourrait en d\u00e9penser sur un\ngrand point de politique, ou un juge sur une question de vie ou de\nmort. Enfin j\u2019imaginai une roue \u00e0 laquelle j\u2019attachai un cordon, pour\nla mettre en mouvement au moyen de mon pied tout en conservant mes\ndeux mains libres.\nNOTA.\u2014Je n\u2019avais jamais vu ce proc\u00e9d\u00e9 m\u00e9canique en Angleterre, ou du\nmoins je ne l\u2019avais point remarqu\u00e9, quoique j\u2019aie observ\u00e9 depuis qu\u2019il\ny est tr\u00e8s commun; en outre, cette pierre \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s grande et tr\u00e8s\nlourde, et je passai une semaine enti\u00e8re \u00e0 amener cette machine \u00e0\nperfection.\nLes 28 et 29.\u2014J\u2019employai ces deux jours \u00e0 aiguiser mes outils, le\nproc\u00e9d\u00e9 pour faire tourner ma pierre allant tr\u00e8s bien.\n[Illustration: J\u2019employai ces deux jours \u00e0 aiguiser mes outils.]\nLe 30.\u2014M\u2019\u00e9tant aper\u00e7u depuis longtemps que ma provision de biscuit\ndiminuait, j\u2019en fis la revue et je me r\u00e9duisis \u00e0 un biscuit par jour,\nce qui me rendit le c\u0153ur tr\u00e8s chagrin.\nMAI\nLe 1er.\u2014Le matin, en regardant du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la mer, \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e basse,\nj\u2019aper\u00e7us par extraordinaire sur le rivage quelque chose de gros qui\nressemblait assez \u00e0 un tonneau; quand je m\u2019en fus approch\u00e9, je vis que\nc\u2019\u00e9tait un baril et quelques d\u00e9bris du vaisseau qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9s\nsur le rivage par le dernier ouragan. Portant alors mes regards vers\nla carcasse du vaisseau, il me sembla qu\u2019elle sortait au-dessus de\nl\u2019eau plus que de coutume. J\u2019examinai le baril qui \u00e9tait sur la gr\u00e8ve,\nje reconnus qu\u2019il contenait de la poudre \u00e0 canon, mais qu\u2019il avait\npris l\u2019eau et que cette poudre ne formait plus qu\u2019une masse aussi dure\nqu\u2019une pierre. N\u00e9anmoins, provisoirement, je le roulai plus loin sur\nle rivage, et je m\u2019avan\u00e7ai sur les sables le plus pr\u00e8s possible de la\ncoque du navire, afin de mieux la voir.\nQuand je fus descendu tout proche, je trouvai sa position \u00e9tonnamment\nchang\u00e9e. Le ch\u00e2teau de proue, qui d\u2019abord \u00e9tait enfonc\u00e9 dans le sable,\n\u00e9tait alors \u00e9lev\u00e9 de six pieds au moins, et la poupe, que la violence\nde la mer avait bris\u00e9e et s\u00e9par\u00e9e du reste peu de temps apr\u00e8s que j\u2019y\neus fait mes derni\u00e8res recherches, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 lanc\u00e9e, pour ainsi dire,\net jet\u00e9e sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9. Le sable s\u2019\u00e9tait tellement amoncel\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de\nl\u2019arri\u00e8re, que l\u00e0 o\u00f9 auparavant une grande \u00e9tendue d\u2019eau m\u2019emp\u00eachait\nd\u2019approcher \u00e0 plus d\u2019un quart de mille sans me mettre \u00e0 la nage, je\npouvais marcher jusqu\u2019au vaisseau quand la mar\u00e9e \u00e9tait basse. Je fus\nd\u2019abord surpris de cela, mais bient\u00f4t je conclus que le tremblement\nde terre devait en \u00eatre la cause; et, comme il avait augment\u00e9 le bris\ndu vaisseau, chaque jour il venait au rivage quantit\u00e9 de choses que\nla mer avait d\u00e9tach\u00e9es, et que les vents et les flots roulaient par\ndegr\u00e9s jusqu\u2019\u00e0 terre.\nCeci vint me distraire totalement de mon dessein de changer\nd\u2019habitation et ma principale affaire, ce jour-l\u00e0, fut de chercher \u00e0\np\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans le vaisseau: mais je vis que c\u2019\u00e9tait une chose que je\nne devais point esp\u00e9rer, car son int\u00e9rieur \u00e9tait encombr\u00e9 de sable.\nN\u00e9anmoins, comme j\u2019avais appris \u00e0 ne d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer de rien, je r\u00e9solus\nd\u2019en arracher par morceaux ce que je pourrais, persuad\u00e9 que tout ce\nque j\u2019en tirerais me serait de quelque utilit\u00e9.\nLe 3.\u2014Je commen\u00e7ai par scier un bau qui maintenait la partie\nsup\u00e9rieure proche le gaillard d\u2019arri\u00e8re, et, quand je l\u2019eus coup\u00e9,\nj\u2019\u00f4tai tout ce que je pus du sable qui embarrassait la portion la plus\n\u00e9lev\u00e9e; mais, la mar\u00e9e venant \u00e0 monter, je fus oblig\u00e9 de m\u2019en tenir l\u00e0\npour cette fois.\nLe 4.\u2014J\u2019allai \u00e0 la p\u00eache, mais je ne pris aucun poisson que j\u2019osasse\nmanger; ennuy\u00e9 de ce passe-temps, j\u2019\u00e9tais sur le point de me retirer,\nquand j\u2019attrapai un petit dauphin. Je m\u2019\u00e9tais fait une grande ligne\navec du fil de caret, mais je n\u2019avais point d\u2019hame\u00e7ons; n\u00e9anmoins\nje prenais assez de poisson et tout autant que je m\u2019en souciais. Je\nl\u2019exposais au soleil et je le mangeais sec.\n[Illustration: J\u2019attrapai un petit dauphin.]\nLe 5.\u2014Je travaillai sur la carcasse; je coupai un second bau, et je\ntirai des ponts trois grandes planches de sapin; je les liai ensemble,\net les fis flotter vers le rivage quand vint le flot de la mar\u00e9e.\nLe 6.\u2014Je travaillai sur la carcasse; j\u2019en arrachai quantit\u00e9 de\nchevilles et autres ferrures; ce fut une rude besogne. Je rentrai chez\nmoi tr\u00e8s fatigu\u00e9, et j\u2019eus envie de renoncer \u00e0 ce sauvetage.\nLe 7.\u2014Je retournai \u00e0 la carcasse, mais non dans l\u2019intention d\u2019y\ntravailler; je trouvai que par son propre poids elle s\u2019\u00e9tait affaiss\u00e9e\ndepuis que les baux \u00e9taient sci\u00e9s, et que plusieurs pi\u00e8ces du\nb\u00e2timent semblaient se d\u00e9tacher. Le fond de la cale \u00e9tait tellement\nentr\u2019ouvert, que je pouvais voir dedans: elle \u00e9tait presque emplie de\nsable et d\u2019eau.\nLe 8.\u2014J\u2019allai \u00e0 la carcasse, et je portai avec moi une pince pour\nd\u00e9manteler le pont, qui pour lors \u00e9tait enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9barrass\u00e9 d\u2019eau\net de sable; j\u2019enfon\u00e7ai deux planches que j\u2019amenai aussi \u00e0 terre avec\nla mar\u00e9e. Je laissai l\u00e0 ma pince pour le lendemain.\nLe 9.\u2014J\u2019allai \u00e0 la carcasse, et avec mon levier je pratiquai une\nouverture dans la coque du b\u00e2timent; je sentis plusieurs tonneaux,\nque j\u2019\u00e9branlai avec la pince sans pouvoir les d\u00e9foncer. Je sentis\n\u00e9galement le rouleau de plomb d\u2019Angleterre; je le remuai, mais il\n\u00e9tait trop lourd pour que je pusse le transporter.\nLes 10, 11, 12, 13 et 14.\u2014J\u2019allai chaque jour \u00e0 la carcasse, et j\u2019en\ntirai beaucoup de pi\u00e8ces de charpente, des bordages, des planches et\ndeux ou trois cents livres de fer.\nLe 15.\u2014J\u2019emportai deux haches, pour essayer si je ne pourrais point\ncouper un morceau du rouleau de plomb en y appliquant le taillant de\nl\u2019une, que j\u2019enfoncerais avec l\u2019autre; mais comme il \u00e9tait recouvert\nd\u2019un pied et demi d\u2019eau environ, je ne pus frapper aucun coup qui\nport\u00e2t.\nLe 16.\u2014Il avait fait un grand vent durant la nuit, la carcasse\nparaissait avoir beaucoup souffert de la violence des eaux; mais je\nrestai si longtemps dans les bois \u00e0 attraper des pigeons pour ma\nnourriture, que la mar\u00e9e m\u2019emp\u00eacha d\u2019aller au b\u00e2timent ce jour-l\u00e0.\nLe 17.\u2014J\u2019aper\u00e7us quelques morceaux des d\u00e9bris jet\u00e9s sur le rivage, \u00e0\ndeux milles de moi environ; je m\u2019assurai de ce que ce pouvait \u00eatre, et\nje trouvai que c\u2019\u00e9tait une pi\u00e8ce de l\u2019\u00e9peron, trop pesante pour que je\nl\u2019emportasse.\nLe 24.\u2014Chaque jour jusqu\u2019\u00e0 celui-ci je travaillai sur la carcasse, et\nj\u2019en \u00e9branlai si fortement plusieurs parties \u00e0 l\u2019aide de ma pince,\nqu\u2019\u00e0 la premi\u00e8re grande mar\u00e9e flott\u00e8rent plusieurs futailles et deux\ncoffres de matelot; mais, comme le vent soufflait de la c\u00f4te, rien\nne vint \u00e0 terre ce jour-l\u00e0, si ce n\u2019est quelques membrures et une\nbarrique pleine de porc du Br\u00e9sil que l\u2019eau et le sable avaient g\u00e2t\u00e9.\nJe continuai ce travail jusqu\u2019au 15 juin, en en exceptant le temps\nn\u00e9cessaire pour me procurer des aliments, que je fixai toujours,\ndurant cette occupation, \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e haute, afin que je pusse \u00eatre pr\u00eat\npour le jusant. Alors j\u2019avais assez amass\u00e9 de charpentes, de planches\net de ferrures pour construire un bon bateau si j\u2019eusse su comment.\nJe parvins aussi \u00e0 recueillir, en diff\u00e9rentes fois et en diff\u00e9rents\nmorceaux, pr\u00e8s de cent livres de plomb lamin\u00e9.\nJUIN\nLe 16.\u2014En descendant sur le rivage, je trouvai un grand ch\u00e9lone\nou tortue de mer, le premier que je vis. C\u2019\u00e9tait assur\u00e9ment pure\nmauvaise chance, car ils n\u2019\u00e9taient pas rares sur cette terre; et s\u2019il\nm\u2019\u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 d\u2019\u00eatre sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 oppos\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, j\u2019aurais pu en\navoir par centaines tous les jours, comme je le fis plus tard; mais\npeut-\u00eatre les aurais-je pay\u00e9s assez cher.\n[Illustration: Je trouvais un grand ch\u00e9lone ou tortue de mer.]\nLe 17.\u2014J\u2019employai ce jour \u00e0 faire cuire ma tortue: je trouvai dedans\nsoixante \u0153ufs, et sa chair me parut la plus agr\u00e9able et la plus\nsavoureuse que j\u2019eusse go\u00fbt\u00e9e de ma vie, n\u2019ayant eu d\u2019autre viande que\ncelle de ch\u00e8vre ou d\u2019oiseau depuis que j\u2019avais abord\u00e9 \u00e0 cet horrible\ns\u00e9jour.\nLe 18.\u2014Il plut toute la journ\u00e9e, et je ne sortis pas. La pluie me\nsemblait froide, j\u2019\u00e9tais transi, chose extraordinaire dans cette\nlatitude.\nLe 19.\u2014J\u2019\u00e9tais fort mal, et je grelottais comme si le temps e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\nfroid.\nLe 20.\u2014Je n\u2019eus pas de repos de toute la nuit, mais la fi\u00e8vre et de\nviolentes douleurs dans la t\u00eate.\nLe 21.\u2014Je fus tr\u00e8s mal, et effray\u00e9 presque \u00e0 la mort par\nl\u2019appr\u00e9hension d\u2019\u00eatre, en ma triste situation, malade et sans secours.\nJe priai Dieu pour la premi\u00e8re fois depuis la tourmente essuy\u00e9e au\nlarge de Hull; mais je savais \u00e0 peine ce que je disais ou pourquoi je\nle disais: toutes mes pens\u00e9es \u00e9taient confuses.\nLe 22.\u2014J\u2019\u00e9tais un peu mieux, mais dans l\u2019affreuse transe de faire une\nmaladie.\nLe 23.\u2014Je fus derechef fort mal; j\u2019\u00e9tais glac\u00e9 et frissonnant et\nj\u2019avais une violente migraine.\nLe 24.\u2014Beaucoup de mieux.\nLe 25.\u2014Fi\u00e8vre violente; l\u2019acc\u00e8s, qui me dura sept heures, \u00e9tait\nalternativement froid et chaud et accompagn\u00e9 de sueurs affaiblissantes.\nLe 26.\u2014Il y eut du mieux; et, comme je n\u2019avais point de vivres, je\npris mon fusil, mais je me sentis tr\u00e8s faible. Cependant je tuai une\nch\u00e8vre, que je tra\u00eenai jusque chez moi avec beaucoup de difficult\u00e9;\nj\u2019en grillai quelques morceaux, que je mangeai. J\u2019aurais d\u00e9sir\u00e9 les\nfaire bouillir pour avoir du consomm\u00e9, mais je n\u2019avais point de pot.\nLe 27.\u2014La fi\u00e8vre redevint si aigu\u00eb, que je restai au lit tout le jour,\nsans boire ni manger. Je mourais de soif, mais j\u2019\u00e9tais si affaibli\nque je n\u2019eus pas la force de me lever pour aller chercher de l\u2019eau.\nJ\u2019invoquai Dieu de nouveau, mais j\u2019\u00e9tais dans le d\u00e9lire; et quand il\nfut pass\u00e9, j\u2019\u00e9tais si ignorant que je ne savais que dire; seulement\nj\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9tendu et je criais;\u2014SEIGNEUR, JETTE UN REGARD SUR MOI!\nSEIGNEUR, AIE PITI\u00c9 DE MOI! SEIGNEUR, FAIS-MOI MIS\u00c9RICORDE!\u2014Je suppose\nque je ne fis rien autre chose pendant deux ou trois heures, jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nce que, l\u2019acc\u00e8s ayant cess\u00e9, je m\u2019endormis pour ne me r\u00e9veiller que\nfort avant dans la nuit. A mon r\u00e9veil, je me sentis soulag\u00e9, mais\nfaible et excessivement alt\u00e9r\u00e9. N\u00e9anmoins, comme je n\u2019avais point\nd\u2019eau dans toute mon habitation, je fus forc\u00e9 de rester couch\u00e9\njusqu\u2019au matin, et je me rendormis. Dans ce second sommeil, j\u2019eus ce\nterrible songe:\nIl me semblait que j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9tendu sur la terre, en dehors de ma\nmuraille, \u00e0 la place o\u00f9 je me trouvais quand apr\u00e8s le tremblement\nde terre \u00e9clata l\u2019ouragan, et que je voyais un homme qui, d\u2019une\nnu\u00e9e \u00e9paisse et noire, descendait \u00e0 terre au milieu d\u2019un tourbillon\n\u00e9clatant de lumi\u00e8re et de feu. Il \u00e9tait de pied en cap resplendissant\ncomme une flamme, tellement que je ne pouvais le fixer du regard.\nSa contenance \u00e9tait vraiment effroyable: la d\u00e9peindre par des mots\nserait impossible. Quand il posa le pied sur le sol, la terre me parut\ns\u2019\u00e9branler, juste comme elle avait fait lors du tremblement, et tout\nl\u2019air sembla, en mon imagination, sillonn\u00e9 de traits de feu.\nA peine \u00e9tait-il descendu sur la terre qu\u2019il s\u2019avan\u00e7a pour me tuer\navec une longue pique qu\u2019il tenait \u00e0 la main; et, quand il fut parvenu\nvers une \u00e9minence peu \u00e9loign\u00e9e, il me parla, et j\u2019ou\u00efs une voix si\nterrible qu\u2019il me serait impossible d\u2019exprimer la terreur qui s\u2019empara\nde moi; tout ce que je puis dire, c\u2019est que j\u2019entendis ceci:\u2014\u00abPUISQUE\nTOUTES CES CHOSES NE T\u2019ONT POINT PORT\u00c9 AU REPENTIR, TU MOURRAS!\u00bb\u2014A ces\nmots, il me sembla qu\u2019il levait sa lance pour me tuer.\nQue nul de ceux qui liront jamais cette relation ne s\u2019attende \u00e0 ce que\nje puisse d\u00e9peindre les angoisses de mon \u00e2me lors de cette terrible\nvision, qui me fit souffrir m\u00eame durant mon r\u00eave; et il ne me serait\npas plus possible de rendre l\u2019impression qui resta grav\u00e9e dans mon\nesprit apr\u00e8s mon r\u00e9veil, apr\u00e8s que j\u2019eus reconnu que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019un\nsonge.\nJ\u2019avais, h\u00e9las! perdu toute connaissance de Dieu; ce que je devais aux\nbonnes instructions de mon p\u00e8re avait \u00e9t\u00e9 effac\u00e9 par huit ann\u00e9es de\ncette vie licencieuse que m\u00e8nent les gens de mer, et par la constante\net seule fr\u00e9quentation de tout ce qui \u00e9tait, comme moi, pervers et\nlibertin au plus haut degr\u00e9. Je ne me souviens pas d\u2019avoir eu pendant\ntout ce temps une seule pens\u00e9e qui tend\u00eet \u00e0 m\u2019\u00e9lever vers Dieu ou \u00e0 me\nfaire descendre en moi-m\u00eame pour r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur ma conduite.\nSans d\u00e9sir du bien, sans conscience du mal, j\u2019\u00e9tais plong\u00e9 dans une\nsorte de stupidit\u00e9 d\u2019\u00e2me. Je valais tout au juste ce qu\u2019on pourrait\nsupposer valoir le plus endurci, le plus insouciant, le plus impie\nd\u2019entre tous nos marins, n\u2019ayant pas le moindre sentiment, ni de\ncrainte de Dieu dans les dangers, ni de gratitude apr\u00e8s la d\u00e9livrance.\nEn se rem\u00e9morant la portion d\u00e9j\u00e0 pass\u00e9e de mon histoire, on r\u00e9pugnera\nmoins \u00e0 me croire lorsque j\u2019ajouterai qu\u2019\u00e0 travers la foule de mis\u00e8res\nqui jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce jour m\u2019\u00e9taient advenues je n\u2019avais eu pas une seule\nfois la pens\u00e9e que c\u2019\u00e9tait la main de Dieu qui me frappait, que\nc\u2019\u00e9tait un juste ch\u00e2timent pour ma faute, pour ma conduite rebelle \u00e0\nmon p\u00e8re, pour l\u2019\u00e9normit\u00e9 de mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s pr\u00e9sents, ou pour le cours\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ral de ma coupable vie. Lors de mon exp\u00e9dition d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e sur la\nc\u00f4te d\u2019Afrique, je n\u2019avais jamais song\u00e9 \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il adviendrait de moi,\nni souhait\u00e9 que Dieu me dirige\u00e2t dans ma course, ni qu\u2019il me gard\u00e2t\ndes dangers qui vraisemblablement m\u2019environnaient, soit de la voracit\u00e9\ndes b\u00eates, soit de la cruaut\u00e9 des sauvages. Je ne prenais aucun souci\nde Dieu ou de la Providence; j\u2019ob\u00e9issais purement, comme la brute, aux\nmouvements de ma nature, et c\u2019\u00e9tait tout au plus si je suivais les\nprincipes du sens commun.\nQuand je fus d\u00e9livr\u00e9 et recueilli en mer par le capitaine portugais,\nqui en usa si bien avec moi et me traita avec tant d\u2019\u00e9quit\u00e9 et de\nbienveillance, je n\u2019eus pas le moindre sentiment de gratitude. Apr\u00e8s\nmon second naufrage, apr\u00e8s que j\u2019eus \u00e9t\u00e9 ruin\u00e9 et en danger de p\u00e9rir\n\u00e0 l\u2019abord de cette \u00eele, bien loin d\u2019avoir quelques remords et de\nregarder ceci comme un ch\u00e2timent du ciel, seulement je me disais\nsouvent que j\u2019\u00e9tais un malheureux chien, n\u00e9 pour \u00eatre toujours\nmis\u00e9rable.\nIl est vrai qu\u2019aussit\u00f4t que j\u2019eus pris terre et que j\u2019eus vu que tout\nl\u2019\u00e9quipage \u00e9tait noy\u00e9 et moi seul \u00e9pargn\u00e9, je tombai dans une sorte\nd\u2019extase et de ravissement d\u2019\u00e2me qui, f\u00e9cond\u00e9s de la gr\u00e2ce de Dieu,\nauraient pu aboutir \u00e0 une sinc\u00e8re reconnaissance; mais cet \u00e9lancement\npassa comme un \u00e9clair, et se termina en un commun mouvement de joie\nde se retrouver en vie[15], sans la moindre r\u00e9flexion sur la bont\u00e9\nsignal\u00e9e de la main qui m\u2019avait pr\u00e9serv\u00e9, qui m\u2019avait mis \u00e0 part pour\n\u00eatre pr\u00e9serv\u00e9, tandis que tout le reste avait p\u00e9ri; je ne me demandai\npas m\u00eame pourquoi la Providence avait eu ainsi piti\u00e9 de moi. Ce fut\nune joie toute semblable \u00e0 celle qu\u2019\u00e9prouvent commun\u00e9ment les marins\nqui abordent \u00e0 terre apr\u00e8s un naufrage, dont ils noient le souvenir\ndans un _bowl_ de _punch_, et qu\u2019ils oublient presque aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019il\nest pass\u00e9.\u2014Et tout le cours de ma vie avait \u00e9t\u00e9 comme cela!\nM\u00eame, lorsque dans la suite des consid\u00e9rations oblig\u00e9es m\u2019eurent fait\nconna\u00eetre ma situation, et en quel horrible lieu j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9 hors\nde toute soci\u00e9t\u00e9 humaine, sans aucune esp\u00e9rance de secours, et sans\naucun espoir de d\u00e9livrance, aussit\u00f4t que j\u2019entrevis la possibilit\u00e9 de\nvivre et que je ne devais point p\u00e9rir de faim, tout le sentiment de\nmon affliction s\u2019\u00e9vanouit; je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre fort aise: je me mis\n\u00e0 travailler \u00e0 ma conservation et \u00e0 ma subsistance, bien \u00e9loign\u00e9 de\nm\u2019affliger de ma position comme d\u2019un jugement du ciel, et de penser\nque le bras de Dieu s\u2019\u00e9tait appesanti sur moi. De semblables pens\u00e9es\nn\u2019avaient pas accoutum\u00e9 de me venir \u00e0 l\u2019esprit.\nLa croissance du bl\u00e9, dont j\u2019ai fait mention dans mon _Journal_,\neut premi\u00e8rement une petite influence sur moi; elle me toucha\nassez fortement aussi longtemps que j\u2019y crus voir quelque chose de\nmiraculeux; mais d\u00e8s que cette id\u00e9e tomba, l\u2019impression que j\u2019en avais\nre\u00e7ue tomba avec elle, ainsi que je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit.\nIl en fut de m\u00eame du tremblement de terre, quoique rien en soi ne\nsaurait \u00eatre plus terrible, ni conduire plus imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 l\u2019id\u00e9e\nde la puissance invisible qui seule gouverne de si grandes choses;\nn\u00e9anmoins, \u00e0 peine la premi\u00e8re frayeur pass\u00e9e, l\u2019impression qu\u2019il\navait faite sur moi s\u2019en alla aussi: je n\u2019avais pas plus le sentiment\nde Dieu ou de ses jugements et que ma pr\u00e9sente affliction \u00e9tait\nl\u2019\u0153uvre de ses mains, que si j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans l\u2019\u00e9tat le plus prosp\u00e8re\nde la vie.\nMais quand je tombai malade et que l\u2019image des mis\u00e8res de la mort\nvint peu \u00e0 peu se placer devant moi, quand mes esprits commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0\ns\u2019affaisser sous le poids d\u2019un mal violent et que mon corps fut \u00e9puis\u00e9\npar l\u2019ardeur de la fi\u00e8vre, ma conscience, si longtemps endormie, se\nr\u00e9veilla; je me reprochai ma vie pass\u00e9e, dont l\u2019insigne perversit\u00e9\navait provoqu\u00e9 la justice de Dieu \u00e0 m\u2019infliger des ch\u00e2timents inou\u00efs\net \u00e0 me traiter d\u2019une fa\u00e7on si cruelle.\nCes r\u00e9flexions m\u2019oppress\u00e8rent d\u00e8s le deuxi\u00e8me et le troisi\u00e8me jour\nde mon indisposition, et dans la violence de la fi\u00e8vre et des \u00e2pres\nreproches de ma conscience, elles m\u2019arrach\u00e8rent quelques paroles qui\nressemblaient \u00e0 une pri\u00e8re adress\u00e9e \u00e0 Dieu. Je ne puis dire cependant\nque ce fut une pri\u00e8re faite avec ferveur et confiance, ce fut plut\u00f4t\nun cri de frayeur et de d\u00e9tresse. Le d\u00e9sordre de mes esprits, mes\nremords cuisants, l\u2019horreur de mourir dans un si d\u00e9plorable \u00e9tat\net de poignantes appr\u00e9hensions me faisaient monter des vapeurs au\ncerveau, et, dans ce trouble de mon \u00e2me, je ne savais ce que ma\nlangue articulait; ce dut \u00eatre toutefois quelque exclamation comme\ncelle-ci:\u2014\u00abSEIGNEUR! QUELLE MIS\u00c9RABLE CR\u00c9ATURE JE SUIS! SI JE VIENS\n\u00c0 \u00caTRE MALADE, ASSUR\u00c9MENT JE MOURRAI FAUTE DE SECOURS! SEIGNEUR, QUE\nDEVIENDRAI-JE?\u00bb\u2014Alors des larmes coul\u00e8rent en abondance de mes yeux,\net il se passa un long temps avant que je pusse en prof\u00e9rer davantage.\nDans cet intervalle me revinrent \u00e0 l\u2019esprit les bons avis de mon p\u00e8re,\net sa pr\u00e9diction, dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 au commencement de cette histoire,\nque si je faisais ce coup de t\u00eate, Dieu ne me b\u00e9nirait point, et que\nj\u2019aurais dans la suite tout le loisir de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur le m\u00e9pris que\nj\u2019aurais fait de ses conseils lorsqu\u2019il n\u2019y aurait personne qui p\u00fbt me\npr\u00eater assistance.\u2014\u00abMaintenant, dis-je \u00e0 haute voix, les paroles de\nmon cher p\u00e8re sont accomplies, la justice de Dieu m\u2019a atteint, et je\nn\u2019ai personne pour me secourir ou m\u2019entendre. J\u2019ai m\u00e9connu la voix de\nla Providence, qui m\u2019avait g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement plac\u00e9 dans un \u00e9tat et dans\nun rang o\u00f9 j\u2019aurais pu vivre dans l\u2019aisance et dans le bonheur; mais\nje n\u2019ai point voulu concevoir cela, ni apprendre de mes parents \u00e0\nconna\u00eetre les biens attach\u00e9s \u00e0 cette condition. Je les ai d\u00e9laiss\u00e9s\npleurant sur ma folie; et maintenant, abandonn\u00e9, je pleure sur les\ncons\u00e9quences de cette folie. J\u2019ai refus\u00e9 leur aide et leur appui,\nqui auraient pu me produire dans le monde et m\u2019y rendre toute chose\nfacile; maintenant j\u2019ai des difficult\u00e9s \u00e0 combattre contre lesquelles\nla nature m\u00eame ne pr\u00e9vaudrait pas, et je n\u2019ai ni assistance, ni aide,\nni conseil, ni r\u00e9confort.\u00bb\u2014Et je m\u2019\u00e9criai alors:\u2014\u00abSEIGNEUR, VIENS A\nMON AIDE, CAR JE SUIS DANS UNE GRANDE D\u00c9TRESSE!\u00bb\nCe fut la premi\u00e8re pri\u00e8re, si je puis l\u2019appeler ainsi, que j\u2019eusse\nfaite depuis plusieurs ann\u00e9es. Mais je retourne \u00e0 mon _Journal_.\nLe 28.\u2014Un tant soit peu soulag\u00e9 par le repos que j\u2019avais pris, et mon\nacc\u00e8s \u00e9tant tout \u00e0 fait pass\u00e9, je me levai. Quoique je fusse encore\nplein de l\u2019effroi et de la terreur de mon r\u00eave, je fis r\u00e9flexion\ncependant que l\u2019acc\u00e8s de fi\u00e8vre reviendrait le jour suivant, et\nqu\u2019il fallait en ce moment me procurer de quoi me rafra\u00eechir et me\nsoutenir quand je serais malade. La premi\u00e8re chose que je fis, ce fut\nde mettre de l\u2019eau dans une grande bouteille carr\u00e9e et de la placer\nsur ma table, \u00e0 port\u00e9e de mon lit; puis, pour enlever la crudit\u00e9 et\nla qualit\u00e9 fi\u00e9vreuse de l\u2019eau, j\u2019y versai et m\u00ealai environ un quart\nde pinte de _rhum_. Je coupai alors un morceau de viande de bouc, je\nle fis griller sur des charbons, mais je n\u2019en pus manger que fort\npeu. Je sortis pour me promener; mais j\u2019\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s faible et tr\u00e8s\nm\u00e9lancolique, j\u2019avais le c\u0153ur navr\u00e9 de ma mis\u00e9rable condition et\nj\u2019appr\u00e9hendais le retour de mon mal pour le lendemain. A la nuit,\nje fis mon souper de trois \u0153ufs de tortue, que je fis cuire sous la\ncendre, et que je mangeai \u00e0 la coque, comme on dit. Ce fut l\u00e0, autant\nque je puis m\u2019en souvenir, le premier morceau pour lequel je demandai\nla b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu depuis qu\u2019il m\u2019avait donn\u00e9 la vie.\n[Illustration: Je le fis griller sur des charbons.]\nApr\u00e8s avoir mang\u00e9, j\u2019essayai de me promener; mais je me trouvai si\naffaibli, que je pouvais \u00e0 peine porter mon mousquet,\u2014car je ne\nsortais jamais sans lui.\u2014Aussi je n\u2019allai pas loin, et je m\u2019assis \u00e0\nterre, contemplant la mer qui s\u2019\u00e9tendait devant moi calme et douce.\nTandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais assis l\u00e0, il me vint \u00e0 l\u2019esprit ces pens\u00e9es:\n\u00abQu\u2019est-ce que la terre et la mer dont j\u2019ai vu tant de r\u00e9gions? d\u2019o\u00f9\ncela a-t-il \u00e9t\u00e9 produit? que suis-je moi-m\u00eame? que sont toutes les\ncr\u00e9atures, sauvages ou polic\u00e9es, humaines ou brutes? d\u2019o\u00f9 sortons-nous?\n\u00abS\u00fbrement nous avons tous \u00e9t\u00e9 faits par quelque secr\u00e8te puissance, qui\na form\u00e9 la terre et l\u2019oc\u00e9an, l\u2019air et les cieux, mais quelle est-elle?\u00bb\nJ\u2019inf\u00e9rai donc naturellement de ces propositions que c\u2019est Dieu qui a\ncr\u00e9\u00e9 tout cela.\u2014\u00abBien! Mais si Dieu a fait toutes ces choses, il les\nguide et les gouverne toutes, ainsi que tout ce qui les concerne; car\nl\u2019\u00catre qui a pu engendrer toutes ces choses doit certainement avoir la\npuissance de les conduire et de les diriger.\n\u00abS\u2019il en est ainsi, rien ne peut arriver dans le grand d\u00e9partement de\nces \u0153uvres sans sa connaissance ou sans son ordre.\n\u00abEt si rien ne peut arriver sans qu\u2019il le sache, il sait que je suis\nici dans une affreuse condition, et si rien n\u2019arrive sans son ordre,\nil a ordonn\u00e9 que tout ceci m\u2019adv\u00eent.\u00bb\nIl ne se pr\u00e9senta rien \u00e0 mon esprit qui p\u00fbt combattre une seule de\nces conclusions; c\u2019est pourquoi je demeurai convaincu que Dieu avait\nordonn\u00e9 tout ce qui m\u2019\u00e9tait survenu, et que c\u2019\u00e9tait par sa volont\u00e9\nque j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9 \u00e0 cette affreuse situation, Dieu seul \u00e9tant le\nma\u00eetre non seulement de mon sort, mais de toutes choses qui se passent\ndans le monde; et il s\u2019ensuivit imm\u00e9diatement cette r\u00e9flexion:\n\u00abPourquoi Dieu a-t-il agi ainsi envers moi? Qu\u2019ai-je fait pour \u00eatre\nainsi trait\u00e9?\u00bb\nAlors ma conscience me retint court devant cet examen, comme si\nj\u2019avais blasph\u00e9m\u00e9, et il me sembla qu\u2019une voix me criait:\u2014\u00abMalheureux!\ntu demandes ce que tu as fait? Jette un regard en arri\u00e8re sur ta vie\ncoupable et dissip\u00e9e, et demande-toi ce que tu n\u2019as pas fait! Demande\npourquoi tu n\u2019as pas \u00e9t\u00e9 an\u00e9anti il y a longtemps? pourquoi tu n\u2019as\npas \u00e9t\u00e9 noy\u00e9 dans la rade de Yarmouth? pourquoi tu n\u2019as pas \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9\ndans le combat lorsque le corsaire de Sall\u00e9 captura le vaisseau?\npourquoi tu n\u2019as pas \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par les b\u00eates f\u00e9roces de la c\u00f4te\nd\u2019Afrique, ou englouti l\u00e0, quand tout l\u2019\u00e9quipage p\u00e9rit except\u00e9 toi? Et\napr\u00e8s cela te rediras-tu: Qu\u2019ai-je donc fait?\u00bb\nCes r\u00e9flexions me stup\u00e9fi\u00e8rent; je ne trouvai pas un mot \u00e0 dire, pas\nun mot \u00e0 me r\u00e9pondre. Triste et pensif, je me relevai, je rebroussai\nvers ma retraite, et je passai par-dessus ma muraille, comme pour\naller me coucher; mais mon esprit \u00e9tait p\u00e9niblement agit\u00e9, je n\u2019avais\nnulle envie de dormir. Je m\u2019assis sur une chaise, et j\u2019allumai ma\nlampe, car il commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 faire nuit. Comme j\u2019\u00e9tais alors fortement\npr\u00e9occup\u00e9 du retour de mon indisposition, il me revint en la pens\u00e9e\nque les Br\u00e9siliens, dans toutes leurs maladies, ne prennent d\u2019autres\nrem\u00e8des que leur tabac, et que dans un de mes coffres j\u2019en avais\nun bout de rouleau tout \u00e0 fait pr\u00e9par\u00e9, et quelque peu de vert non\ncompl\u00e8tement tri\u00e9.\nJ\u2019allai \u00e0 ce coffre, conduit par le ciel sans doute, car j\u2019y trouvai\ntout \u00e0 la fois la gu\u00e9rison de mon corps et de mon \u00e2me. Je l\u2019ouvris et\nj\u2019y trouvai ce que je cherchais, le tabac; et, comme le peu de livres\nque j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9s y \u00e9taient aussi renferm\u00e9s, j\u2019en tirai une des\nBibles dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, et que jusqu\u2019alors je n\u2019avais pas\nouvertes, soit faute de loisir, soit par indiff\u00e9rence. Je pris donc\nune Bible, et je l\u2019apportai avec le tabac sur ma table.\nJe ne savais quel usage faire de ce tabac, ni s\u2019il \u00e9tait convenable\nou contraire \u00e0 ma maladie; pourtant j\u2019en fis plusieurs essais, comme\nsi j\u2019avais d\u00e9cid\u00e9 qu\u2019il devait \u00eatre bon d\u2019une fa\u00e7on ou d\u2019une autre.\nJ\u2019en mis d\u2019abord un morceau de feuille dans ma bouche et je le m\u00e2chai:\ncela m\u2019engourdit de suite le cerveau, parce que ce tabac \u00e9tait vert et\nfort, et que je n\u2019y \u00e9tais pas tr\u00e8s accoutum\u00e9. J\u2019en fis ensuite infuser\npendant une heure ou deux dans un peu de _rhum_ pour prendre cette\npotion en me couchant; enfin j\u2019en fis br\u00fbler sur un brasier, et je me\ntins le nez au-dessus aussi pr\u00e8s et aussi longtemps que la chaleur\net la virulence purent me le permettre; j\u2019y restai presque jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nsuffocation.\nDurant ces op\u00e9rations je pris la Bible et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 lire; mais\nj\u2019avais alors la t\u00eate trop troubl\u00e9e par le tabac pour supporter une\nlecture. Seulement, ayant ouvert le livre au hasard, les premi\u00e8res\nparoles que je rencontrai furent celles-ci:\u2014\u00abINVOQUE-MOI AU JOUR DE\nTON AFFLICTION, ET JE TE D\u00c9LIVRERAI, ET TU ME GLORIFIERAS.\u00bb\nCes paroles \u00e9taient tout \u00e0 fait applicables \u00e0 ma situation; elles\nfirent quelque impression sur mon esprit, au moment o\u00f9 je les lus,\nmoins pourtant qu\u2019elles n\u2019en firent par la suite; car le mot\nd\u00e9livrance n\u2019avait pas de son pour moi, si je puis m\u2019exprimer ainsi.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait chose si \u00e9loign\u00e9e et \u00e0 mon sentiment si impossible, que je\ncommen\u00e7ai \u00e0 parler comme firent les enfants d\u2019Isra\u00ebl quand il leur\nfut promis de la chair \u00e0 manger.\u2014\u00abDIEU PEUT-IL DRESSER UNE TABLE\nDANS LE D\u00c9SERT?\u00bb Moi, je disais:\u2014\u00abDIEU LUI-M\u00caME PEUT-IL ME TIRER DE\nCE LIEU?\u00bb\u2014Et, comme ce ne fut qu\u2019apr\u00e8s de longues ann\u00e9es que quelque\nlueur d\u2019esp\u00e9rance brilla, ce doute pr\u00e9valait tr\u00e8s souvent dans mon\nesprit; mais, quoiqu\u2019il en soit, ces paroles firent une tr\u00e8s grande\nimpression sur moi, et je m\u00e9ditai sur elles fr\u00e9quemment. Cependant il\nse faisait tard, et le tabac m\u2019avait, comme je l\u2019ai dit, tellement\nappesanti la t\u00eate qu\u2019il me prit envie de dormir, de sorte que,\nlaissant ma lampe allum\u00e9e dans ma grotte, de crainte que je n\u2019eusse\nbesoin de quelque chose pendant la nuit, j\u2019allai me mettre au lit;\nmais, avant de me coucher, je fis ce que je n\u2019avais fait de ma vie,\nje m\u2019agenouillai et je priai Dieu d\u2019accomplir pour moi la promesse\nde me d\u00e9livrer si je l\u2019invoquais au jour de ma d\u00e9tresse. Apr\u00e8s cette\npri\u00e8re brusque et incompl\u00e8te je bus le _rhum_ dans lequel j\u2019avais\nfait tremper le tabac; mais il en \u00e9tait si charg\u00e9 et si fort que ce\nne fut qu\u2019avec beaucoup de peine que je l\u2019avalai. L\u00e0-dessus je me mis\nau lit et je sentis aussit\u00f4t cette potion me porter violemment \u00e0 la\nt\u00eate; mais je tombai dans un si profond sommeil que je ne m\u2019\u00e9veillai\nque le lendemain vers trois heures de l\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi, autant que j\u2019en\npus juger par le soleil; je dirai plus, je suis \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s d\u2019opinion\nque je dormis tout le jour, toute la nuit suivante et une partie du\nsurlendemain; car autrement je ne sais comment j\u2019aurais pu oublier\nune journ\u00e9e dans mon calcul des jours, de la semaine, ainsi que je\nle reconnus quelques ann\u00e9es apr\u00e8s. Si j\u2019avais commis cette erreur en\ntra\u00e7ant et retra\u00e7ant la m\u00eame ligne, j\u2019aurais d\u00fb oublier plus d\u2019un\njour. Un fait certain, c\u2019est que j\u2019eus ce m\u00e9compte, et que je ne sus\njamais d\u2019o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait provenu.\nQuoi qu\u2019il en soit, quand je me r\u00e9veillai, je me trouvai parfaitement\nrafra\u00eechi, et l\u2019esprit dispos et joyeux. Lorsque je fus lev\u00e9, je me\nsentis plus fort que la veille; mon estomac \u00e9tait mieux, j\u2019avais faim;\nbref, je n\u2019eus pas d\u2019acc\u00e8s le lendemain, et je continuai d\u2019aller de\nmieux en mieux. Ceci se passa le 29.\nLe 30.\u2014C\u2019\u00e9tait mon bon jour, mon jour d\u2019intermittence. Je sortis avec\nmon mousquet, mais j\u2019eus le soin de ne point trop m\u2019\u00e9loigner. Je tuai\nun ou deux oiseaux de mer, assez semblables \u00e0 des oies sauvages; je\nles apportai au logis; mais je ne fus point tent\u00e9 d\u2019en manger; et\nje me contentai de quelques \u0153ufs de tortue, qui \u00e9taient fort bons.\nLe soir, je r\u00e9it\u00e9rai la m\u00e9decine, que je supposais m\u2019avoir fait du\nbien,\u2014je veux dire le tabac infus\u00e9 dans du _rhum_,\u2014seulement j\u2019en bus\nmoins que la premi\u00e8re fois; je n\u2019en m\u00e2chai point et je ne pris pas de\nfumigation. N\u00e9anmoins, le jour suivant, qui \u00e9tait le 1er juillet, je\nne fus pas aussi bien que je l\u2019avais esp\u00e9r\u00e9, j\u2019eus un l\u00e9ger sentiment\nde frisson, mais ce ne fut que peu de chose.\nJUILLET\nLe 2.\u2014Je r\u00e9it\u00e9rai ma m\u00e9decine des trois mani\u00e8res; je me l\u2019administrai\ncomme la premi\u00e8re fois, et je doublai la quantit\u00e9 de ma potion.\nLe 3.\u2014La fi\u00e8vre me quitta pour tout de bon; cependant je ne recouvrai\nenti\u00e8rement mes forces que quelques semaines apr\u00e8s. Pendant cette\nconvalescence, je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis beaucoup sur cette parole:\u2014\u00abJE TE\nD\u00c9LIVRERAI;\u00bb\u2014et l\u2019impossibilit\u00e9 de ma d\u00e9livrance se grava si avant\nen mon esprit, qu\u2019elle lui d\u00e9fendit tout espoir. Mais, tandis que\nje me d\u00e9courageais avec de telles pens\u00e9es, tout \u00e0 coup j\u2019avisai que\nj\u2019\u00e9tais si pr\u00e9occup\u00e9 de la d\u00e9livrance de ma grande affliction, que je\nm\u00e9connaissais la faveur que je venais de recevoir, et je m\u2019adressai\nalors moi-m\u00eame ces questions:\u2014\u00abN\u2019ai-je pas \u00e9t\u00e9 miraculeusement d\u00e9livr\u00e9\nd\u2019une maladie, de la plus d\u00e9plorable situation qui puisse \u00eatre et qui\n\u00e9tait si \u00e9pouvantable pour moi? Quelle attention ai-je faite \u00e0 cela?\nComment ai-je rempli mes devoirs? Dieu m\u2019a d\u00e9livr\u00e9 et je ne l\u2019ai point\nglorifi\u00e9; c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire, je n\u2019ai point \u00e9t\u00e9 reconnaissant, je n\u2019ai point\nconfess\u00e9 cette d\u00e9livrance; comment en attendrais-je une plus grande\nencore?\u00bb\nCes r\u00e9flexions p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e8rent mon c\u0153ur; je me jetai \u00e0 genoux, et je\nremerciai Dieu \u00e0 haute voix de m\u2019avoir sauv\u00e9 de cette maladie.\nLe 4.\u2014Dans la matin\u00e9e, je pris la Bible, et, commen\u00e7ant par le\nNouveau Testament, je m\u2019appliquai s\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 sa lecture, et\nje m\u2019imposai la loi d\u2019y vaquer chaque matin et chaque soir, sans\nm\u2019astreindre \u00e0 certain nombre de chapitres, mais en poursuivant aussi\nlongtemps que je le pourrais. Au bout de quelque temps que j\u2019observais\nreligieusement cette pratique, je sentis mon c\u0153ur sinc\u00e8rement et\nprofond\u00e9ment contrit de la perversit\u00e9 de ma vie pass\u00e9e. L\u2019impression\nde mon songe se raviva, et ces paroles:\u2014\u00abTOUTES CES CHOSES NE T\u2019ONT\nPOINT AMEN\u00c9 A REPENTANCE\u00bb\u2014m\u2019affect\u00e8rent r\u00e9ellement l\u2019esprit. C\u2019est\ncette repentance que je demandais instamment \u00e0 Dieu, lorsqu\u2019un jour,\nlisant la Sainte \u00c9criture, je tombai providentiellement sur ce\npassage:\u2014\u00abIL EST EXALT\u00c9 PRINCE ET SAUVEUR POUR DONNER REPENTANCE ET\nPOUR DONNER R\u00c9MISSION.\u00bb\u2014Je laissai choir le livre, et, \u00e9levant mon\nc\u0153ur et mes mains vers le ciel dans une sorte d\u2019extase de joie, je\nm\u2019\u00e9criai:\u2014\u00abJ\u00c9SUS, FILS DE DAVID, J\u00c9SUS, TOI SUBLIME PRINCE ET SAUVEUR,\nDONNE-MOI REPENTANCE!\u00bb\nCe fut l\u00e0 r\u00e9ellement la premi\u00e8re fois de ma vie que je fis une\npri\u00e8re; car je priai alors avec le sentiment de ma mis\u00e8re et avec une\nesp\u00e9rance toute biblique fond\u00e9e sur la parole consolante de Dieu, et\nd\u00e8s lors je con\u00e7us l\u2019espoir qu\u2019il m\u2019exaucerait.\nLe passage\u2014\u00abINVOQUE-MOI ET JE TE D\u00c9LIVRERAI\u00bb\u2014me parut enfin contenir\nun sens que je n\u2019avais point saisi; jusque-l\u00e0 je n\u2019avais eu notion\nd\u2019aucune chose qui p\u00fbt \u00eatre appel\u00e9e d\u00e9livrance, si ce n\u2019est\nl\u2019affranchissement de la captivit\u00e9 o\u00f9 je g\u00e9missais; car, bien que je\nfusse dans un lieu \u00e9tendu, cependant cette \u00eele \u00e9tait vraiment une\nprison pour moi, et cela dans le pire sens de ce mot. Mais alors\nj\u2019appris \u00e0 voir les choses sous un autre jour; je jetai un regard\nen arri\u00e8re sur ma vie pass\u00e9e avec une telle horreur, et mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s\nme parurent si \u00e9normes, que mon \u00e2me n\u2019implora plus de Dieu que la\nd\u00e9livrance du fardeau de ses fautes, qui l\u2019oppressait. Quant \u00e0 ma vie\nsolitaire, ce n\u2019\u00e9tait plus rien; je ne priais seulement pas Dieu de\nm\u2019en affranchir, je n\u2019y pensais pas: tous mes autres maux n\u2019\u00e9taient\nrien au prix de celui-ci. J\u2019ajoute enfin ceci pour bien faire entendre\n\u00e0 quiconque lira cet \u00e9crit, qu\u2019\u00e0 prendre le vrai sens des choses,\nc\u2019est une plus grande b\u00e9n\u00e9diction d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9livr\u00e9 du poids d\u2019un crime\nque d\u2019une affliction.\nMais laissons cela, et retournons \u00e0 mon _Journal_.\nQuoique ma vie f\u00fbt mat\u00e9riellement toujours aussi mis\u00e9rable, ma\nsituation morale commen\u00e7ait cependant \u00e0 s\u2019am\u00e9liorer. Mes pens\u00e9es\n\u00e9tant dirig\u00e9es par une constante lecture de l\u2019\u00c9criture Sainte, et\npar la pri\u00e8re vers des choses d\u2019une nature plus \u00e9lev\u00e9e, j\u2019y puisais\nmille consolations qui m\u2019avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 jusqu\u2019alors inconnues; et comme\nma sant\u00e9 et ma vigueur revenaient, je m\u2019appliquais \u00e0 me pourvoir de\ntout ce dont j\u2019avais besoin et \u00e0 me faire une habitude de vie aussi\nr\u00e9guli\u00e8re qu\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait possible.\nDu 4 au 14.\u2014Ma principale occupation fut de me promener avec mon fusil\n\u00e0 la main; mais je faisais mes promenades fort courtes, comme un\nhomme qui r\u00e9tablit ses forces au sortir d\u2019une maladie; car il serait\ndifficile d\u2019imaginer combien alors j\u2019\u00e9tais bas, et \u00e0 quel degr\u00e9 de\nfaiblesse j\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9duit. Le rem\u00e8de dont j\u2019avais fait usage \u00e9tait\ntout \u00e0 fait nouveau, et n\u2019avait peut-\u00eatre jamais gu\u00e9ri de fi\u00e8vres\nauparavant; aussi ne puis-je recommander \u00e0 qui que ce soit d\u2019en faire\nl\u2019exp\u00e9rience: il chassa, il est vrai, mes acc\u00e8s de fi\u00e8vre, mais il\ncontribua beaucoup \u00e0 m\u2019affaiblir, et me laissa pour quelque temps des\ntremblements nerveux et des convulsions dans tous les membres.\nJ\u2019appris aussi en particulier de cette \u00e9preuve que c\u2019\u00e9tait la chose la\nplus pernicieuse \u00e0 la sant\u00e9 que de sortir dans la saison pluvieuse,\nsurtout si la pluie \u00e9tait accompagn\u00e9e de temp\u00eates et d\u2019ouragans. Or,\ncomme les pluies qui tombaient dans la saison s\u00e8che \u00e9taient toujours\naccompagn\u00e9es de violents orages, je reconnus qu\u2019elles \u00e9taient beaucoup\nplus dangereuses que celles de septembre et d\u2019octobre.\nIl y avait pr\u00e8s de dix mois que j\u2019\u00e9tais dans cette \u00eele infortun\u00e9e;\ntoute possibilit\u00e9 d\u2019en sortir semblait m\u2019\u00eatre \u00f4t\u00e9e \u00e0 toujours, et je\ncroyais fermement que jamais cr\u00e9ature humaine n\u2019avait mis le pied en\nce lieu. Mon habitation \u00e9tant alors \u00e0 mon gr\u00e9 parfaitement mise \u00e0\ncouvert, j\u2019avais un grand d\u00e9sir d\u2019entreprendre une exploration plus\ncompl\u00e8te de l\u2019\u00eele, et de voir si je ne d\u00e9couvrirais point quelques\nproductions que je ne connaissais point encore.\nCe fut le 15 que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 faire cette visite exacte de mon \u00eele.\nJ\u2019allai d\u2019abord \u00e0 la crique dont j\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 parl\u00e9, et o\u00f9 j\u2019avais abord\u00e9\navec mes radeaux. Quand j\u2019eus fait environ deux milles en la c\u00f4toyant,\nje trouvai que le flot de la mar\u00e9e ne remontait pas plus haut, et que\nce n\u2019\u00e9tait plus qu\u2019un petit ruisseau d\u2019eau courante tr\u00e8s douce et tr\u00e8s\nbonne. Comme c\u2019\u00e9tait dans la saison s\u00e8che, il n\u2019y avait presque point\nd\u2019eau dans certains endroits, ou au moins point assez pour que le\ncourant f\u00fbt sensible.\n[Illustration: J\u2019allai d\u2019abord \u00e0 la crique.]\nSur les bords de ce ruisseau je trouvai plusieurs belles savanes ou\nprairies unies, douces et couvertes de verdure. Dans leurs parties\n\u00e9lev\u00e9es proche des hautes terres, qui, selon toute apparence, ne\ndevaient jamais \u00eatre inond\u00e9es, je d\u00e9couvris une grande quantit\u00e9 de\ntabacs verts, qui jetaient de grandes et fortes tiges. Il y avait l\u00e0\ndiverses autres plantes que je ne connaissais point, et qui peut-\u00eatre\navaient des vertus que je ne pouvais imaginer.\nJe me mis \u00e0 chercher le manioc, dont la racine ou cassave sert \u00e0 faire\ndu pain aux Indiens de tout ce climat; il me fut impossible d\u2019en\nd\u00e9couvrir. Je vis d\u2019\u00e9normes plantes d\u2019agave ou d\u2019alo\u00e8s, mais je n\u2019en\nconnaissais pas encore les propri\u00e9t\u00e9s. Je vis aussi quelques cannes \u00e0\nsucre sauvages, et, faute de culture, imparfaites. Je me contentai de\nces d\u00e9couvertes pour cette fois, et je m\u2019en revins en r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissant au\nmoyen par lequel je pourrais m\u2019instruire de la vertu et de la bont\u00e9\ndes plantes et des fruits que je d\u00e9couvrirais; mais je n\u2019en vins \u00e0\naucune conclusion; car j\u2019avais si peu observ\u00e9 pendant mon s\u00e9jour au\nBr\u00e9sil, que je connaissais peu les plantes des champs, ou du moins le\npeu de connaissance que j\u2019en avais acquis ne pouvait alors me servir\nde rien dans ma d\u00e9tresse.\nLe lendemain, le 16, je repris le m\u00eame chemin, et, apr\u00e8s m\u2019\u00eatre avanc\u00e9\nun peu plus que je n\u2019avais fait la veille, je vis que le ruisseau et\nles savanes ne s\u2019\u00e9tendaient pas au del\u00e0, et que la campagne commen\u00e7ait\n\u00e0 \u00eatre plus bois\u00e9e. L\u00e0 je trouvai diff\u00e9rents fruits, particuli\u00e8rement\ndes melons en abondance sur le sol, et des raisins sur les arbres,\no\u00f9 les vignes s\u2019\u00e9taient entrelac\u00e9es; les grappes \u00e9taient juste dans\nleur primeur, bien fournies et bien m\u00fbres. C\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une surprenante\nd\u00e9couverte, j\u2019en fus excessivement content; mais je savais par\nexp\u00e9rience qu\u2019il ne fallait user que mod\u00e9r\u00e9ment de ces fruits; je\nme ressouvenais d\u2019avoir vu mourir, tandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais en Barbarie,\nplusieurs de nos Anglais qui s\u2019y trouvaient esclaves, pour avoir gagn\u00e9\nla fi\u00e8vre et des t\u00e9nesmes en mangeant des raisins avec exc\u00e8s. Je\ntrouvai cependant moyen d\u2019en faire un excellent usage en les faisant\ns\u00e9cher et passer au soleil comme des raisins de garde; je pensai que\nde cette mani\u00e8re ce serait un manger aussi sain qu\u2019agr\u00e9able pour la\nsaison o\u00f9 je n\u2019en pourrais avoir de frais: mon esp\u00e9rance ne fut point\ntromp\u00e9e.\nJe passai l\u00e0 tout l\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi, et je ne retournai point \u00e0 mon\nhabitation; ce fut la premi\u00e8re fois que je puis dire avoir couch\u00e9 hors\nde chez moi. A la nuit, j\u2019eus recours \u00e0 ma premi\u00e8re ressource: je\nmontai sur un arbre, o\u00f9 je dormis parfaitement. Le lendemain au matin,\npoursuivant mon exploration, je fis pr\u00e8s de quatre milles, autant que\nj\u2019en pus juger par l\u2019\u00e9tendue de la vall\u00e9e, et je me dirigeai toujours\ndroit au nord, ayant des cha\u00eenes de collines au nord et au sud de moi.\nAu bout de cette marche je trouvai un pays d\u00e9couvert qui semblait\nporter sa pente vers l\u2019ouest; une petite source d\u2019eau fra\u00eeche, sortant\ndu flanc d\u2019un monticule voisin, courait \u00e0 l\u2019opposite, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\ndroit \u00e0 l\u2019est. Toute cette contr\u00e9e paraissait si temp\u00e9r\u00e9e, si verte,\nsi fleurie, et tout y \u00e9tait si bien dans la primeur du printemps,\nqu\u2019on l\u2019aurait prise pour un jardin artificiel.\nJe descendis un peu sur le coteau de cette d\u00e9licieuse vall\u00e9e, la\ncontemplant et songeant, avec une sorte de plaisir secret,\u2014quoique\nm\u00eal\u00e9 de pens\u00e9es affligeantes,\u2014que tout cela \u00e9tait mon bien, et que\nj\u2019\u00e9tais roi et seigneur absolu de cette terre, que j\u2019y avais droit\nde possession, et que je pouvais la transmettre comme si je l\u2019avais\neue en h\u00e9ritage, aussi incontestablement qu\u2019un lord d\u2019Angleterre son\nmanoir. J\u2019y vis une grande quantit\u00e9 de cacaoyers, d\u2019orangers, de\nlimoniers et de citronniers, tous sauvages, portant peu de fruits, du\nmoins dans cette saison. Cependant les c\u00e9drats verts que je cueillis\n\u00e9taient non seulement fort agr\u00e9ables \u00e0 manger, mais tr\u00e8s sains; et,\ndans la suite, j\u2019en m\u00ealai le jus avec de l\u2019eau, ce qui la rendait\nsalubre, tr\u00e8s froide et tr\u00e8s rafra\u00eechissante.\n[Illustration: Je descendis un peu sur le coteau de cette d\u00e9licieuse\nvall\u00e9e.]\nJe trouvai alors que j\u2019avais une assez belle besogne pour cueillir\nces fruits et les transporter chez moi; car j\u2019avais r\u00e9solu de faire\nune provision de raisins, de c\u00e9drats et de limons pour la saison\npluvieuse, que je savais approcher.\nA cet effet je fis d\u2019abord un grand monceau de raisins, puis un\nmoindre, puis un gros tas de citrons et de limons, et, prenant avec\nmoi un peu de l\u2019un et de l\u2019autre, je me mis en route pour ma demeure,\nbien r\u00e9solu de revenir avec un sac, ou n\u2019importe ce que je pourrais\nfabriquer, pour transporter le reste \u00e0 la maison.\nApr\u00e8s avoir employ\u00e9 trois jours \u00e0 ce voyage, je rentrai donc\nchez moi;\u2014d\u00e9sormais c\u2019est ainsi que j\u2019appellerai ma tente et ma\ngrotte;\u2014mais avant que j\u2019y fusse arriv\u00e9, mes raisins \u00e9taient perdus:\nleur poids et leur jus abondant les avaient affaiss\u00e9s et broy\u00e9s, de\nsorte qu\u2019ils ne valaient rien ou peu de chose. Quant aux c\u00e9drats, ils\n\u00e9taient en bon \u00e9tat, mais je n\u2019en avais pris qu\u2019un tr\u00e8s petit nombre.\nLe jour suivant, qui \u00e9tait le 19, ayant fait deux sacs, je retournai\nchercher ma r\u00e9colte; mais en arrivant \u00e0 mon amas de raisins, qui\n\u00e9taient si beaux et si all\u00e9chants quand je les avais cueillis, je fus\nsurpris de les voir tout \u00e9parpill\u00e9s, foul\u00e9s, tra\u00een\u00e9s \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, et\nd\u00e9vor\u00e9s en grande partie. J\u2019en conclus qu\u2019il y avait dans le voisinage\nquelques cr\u00e9atures sauvages qui avaient fait ce d\u00e9g\u00e2t; mais quelles\ncr\u00e9atures \u00e9taient-ce? Je l\u2019ignorais.\nQuoi qu\u2019il en soit, voyant que je ne pouvais ni les laisser l\u00e0 en\nmonceaux, ni les emporter dans un sac, parce que d\u2019une fa\u00e7on ils\nseraient d\u00e9vor\u00e9s, et que de l\u2019autre ils seraient \u00e9cras\u00e9s par leur\npropre poids, j\u2019eus recours \u00e0 un autre moyen: je cueillis donc une\ngrande quantit\u00e9 de grappes, et je les suspendis \u00e0 l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 des\nbranches des arbres pour les faire s\u00e9cher au soleil; mais quant aux\nc\u00e9drats et aux limons, j\u2019en emportai ma charge.\nA mon retour de ce voyage je contemplai avec un grand plaisir la\nf\u00e9condit\u00e9 de cette vall\u00e9e, les charmes de sa situation \u00e0 l\u2019abri des\nvents de mer, et les bois qui l\u2019ombrageaient: j\u2019en conclus que j\u2019avais\nfix\u00e9 mon habitation dans la partie la plus ingrate de l\u2019\u00eele. En somme,\nje commen\u00e7ai de songer \u00e0 changer ma demeure, et \u00e0 me choisir, s\u2019il\n\u00e9tait possible, dans ce beau vallon, un lieu aussi s\u00fbr que celui que\nj\u2019habitais alors.\nCe projet me roula longtemps dans la t\u00eate, et j\u2019en raffolai longtemps,\n\u00e9pris de la beaut\u00e9 du lieu; mais quand je vins \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer les choses\nde plus pr\u00e8s et \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir que je demeurais proche de la mer, o\u00f9\nil \u00e9tait au moins possible que quelque chose \u00e0 mon avantage y p\u00fbt\nadvenir, que la m\u00eame fatalit\u00e9 qui m\u2019y avait pouss\u00e9 pourrait y jeter\nd\u2019autres malheureux, et que, bien qu\u2019il f\u00fbt \u00e0 peine plausible que rien\nde pareil y d\u00fbt arriver, n\u00e9anmoins m\u2019enfermer au milieu des collines\net des bois, dans le centre de l\u2019\u00eele, c\u2019\u00e9tait vouloir prolonger ma\ncaptivit\u00e9 et rendre un tel \u00e9v\u00e9nement non seulement improbable, mais\nimpossible. Je compris donc qu\u2019il \u00e9tait de mon devoir de ne point\nchanger d\u2019habitation.\nCependant j\u2019\u00e9tais si \u00e9namour\u00e9 de ce lieu que j\u2019y passai presque tout\nle reste du mois de juillet, et, bien qu\u2019apr\u00e8s mes r\u00e9flexions j\u2019eusse\nr\u00e9solu de ne point d\u00e9m\u00e9nager, je m\u2019y construisis pourtant une sorte de\ntonnelle, que j\u2019entourai \u00e0 distance d\u2019une forte enceinte form\u00e9e d\u2019une\ndouble haie, aussi haute que je pouvais atteindre, bien palissad\u00e9e et\nbien fourr\u00e9e de broussailles. L\u00e0, tranquille, je couchais quelquefois\ndeux ou trois nuits de suite, passant et repassant par-dessus la haie,\nau moyen d\u2019une \u00e9chelle, comme je le pratiquais d\u00e9j\u00e0. D\u00e8s lors je me\nfigurai avoir ma maison de campagne et ma maison maritime. Cet ouvrage\nm\u2019occupa jusqu\u2019au commencement d\u2019ao\u00fbt.\nAOUT\nComme j\u2019achevais mes fortifications et commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 jouir de mon\nlabeur, les pluies survinrent et m\u2019oblig\u00e8rent \u00e0 demeurer \u00e0 la maison;\ncar, bien que dans ma nouvelle habitation j\u2019eusse fait avec un morceau\nde voile tr\u00e8s bien tendu une tente semblable \u00e0 l\u2019autre, cependant je\nn\u2019avais point la protection d\u2019une montagne pour me garder des orages,\net derri\u00e8re moi une grotte pour me retirer quand les pluies \u00e9taient\nexcessives.\nVers le 1er de ce mois, comme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, j\u2019avais achev\u00e9 ma\ntonnelle et commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 en jouir.\nLe 3.\u2014Je trouvai les raisins que j\u2019avais suspendus parfaitement secs;\net, au fait, c\u2019\u00e9taient d\u2019excellentes passerilles; aussi me mis-je \u00e0\nles \u00f4ter de dessus les arbres, et ce fut tr\u00e8s heureux que j\u2019eusse\nfait ainsi; car les pluies qui survinrent les auraient g\u00e2t\u00e9s, et\nm\u2019auraient fait perdre mes meilleures provisions d\u2019hiver: j\u2019en avais\nau moins deux cents belles grappes. Je ne les eus pas plut\u00f4t d\u00e9pendues\net transport\u00e9es en grande partie \u00e0 ma grotte, qu\u2019il tomba de l\u2019eau.\nDepuis le 14 il plut chaque jour plus ou moins jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la mi-octobre,\net quelquefois si violemment que je ne pouvais sortir de ma grotte\ndurant plusieurs jours.\nDans cette saison, l\u2019accroissement de ma famille me causa une grande\nsurprise. J\u2019\u00e9tais inquiet de la perte d\u2019une de mes chattes qui s\u2019en\n\u00e9tait all\u00e9e, ou qui, \u00e0 ce que je croyais, \u00e9tait morte; et je n\u2019y\ncomptais plus, quand, \u00e0 mon grand \u00e9tonnement, vers la fin du mois\nd\u2019ao\u00fbt, elle revint avec trois petits. Cela fut d\u2019autant plus \u00e9trange\npour moi, que l\u2019animal que j\u2019avais tu\u00e9 avec mon fusil et que j\u2019avais\nappel\u00e9 chat sauvage, m\u2019avait paru enti\u00e8rement diff\u00e9rent de nos chats\nd\u2019Europe; pourtant les petits minets \u00e9taient de la race domestique\ncomme ma vieille chatte, et pourtant je n\u2019avais que deux femelles:\ncela \u00e9tait bien \u00e9trange! Quoi qu\u2019il en soit, de ces trois chats il\nsortit une si grande post\u00e9rit\u00e9 de chats, que je fus forc\u00e9 de les tuer\ncomme des vers ou des b\u00eates farouches, et de les chasser de ma maison\nautant que possible.\nDepuis le 14 jusqu\u2019au 26, pluie incessante, de sorte que je ne pus\nsortir; j\u2019\u00e9tais devenu tr\u00e8s soigneux de me garantir de l\u2019humidit\u00e9.\nDurant cet emprisonnement, comme je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 me trouver \u00e0 court\nde vivres, je me hasardai dehors deux fois: la premi\u00e8re fois je tuai\nun bouc, et la seconde fois, qui \u00e9tait le 26, je trouvai une grosse\ntortue, qui fut pour moi un grand r\u00e9gal. Mes repas \u00e9taient r\u00e9gl\u00e9s\nainsi: \u00e0 mon d\u00e9jeuner je mangeais une grappe de raisin, \u00e0 d\u00eener un\nmorceau de ch\u00e8vre ou de tortue grill\u00e9; car, \u00e0 mon grand chagrin,\nje n\u2019avais pas de vase pour faire bouillir ou \u00e9tuver quoi que ce\nf\u00fbt.\u2014Enfin deux ou trois \u0153ufs de tortue faisaient mon souper.\nPendant que la pluie me tint ainsi claquemur\u00e9, je travaillai chaque\njour deux ou trois heures \u00e0 agrandir ma grotte, et, peu \u00e0 peu,\ndirigeant ma fouille obliquement, je parvins jusqu\u2019au flanc du rocher,\no\u00f9 je pratiquai une porte ou une issue qui d\u00e9bouchait un peu au del\u00e0\nde mon enceinte. Par ce chemin je pouvais entrer et sortir; toutefois\nje n\u2019\u00e9tais pas tr\u00e8s aise de me voir ainsi \u00e0 d\u00e9couvert. Dans l\u2019\u00e9tat\nde choses pr\u00e9c\u00e9dent, je m\u2019estimais parfaitement en s\u00fbret\u00e9, tandis\nqu\u2019alors je me croyais fort expos\u00e9, et pourtant je n\u2019avais aper\u00e7u\naucun \u00eatre vivant qui p\u00fbt me donner des craintes, car la plus grosse\ncr\u00e9ature que j\u2019eusse encore vue dans l\u2019\u00eele \u00e9tait un bouc.\nSEPTEMBRE\nLe 30.\u2014J\u2019\u00e9tais arriv\u00e9 au triste anniversaire de mon d\u00e9barquement;\nj\u2019additionnai les hoches de mon poteau, et je trouvai que j\u2019\u00e9tais sur\nce rivage depuis trois cent soixante-cinq jours. Je gardai durant\ncette journ\u00e9e un je\u00fbne solennel, la consacrant tout enti\u00e8re \u00e0 des\nexercices religieux, me prosternant \u00e0 terre dans la plus profonde\nhumiliation, me confessant \u00e0 Dieu, reconnaissant la justice de ses\njugements sur moi, et l\u2019implorant de me faire mis\u00e9ricorde au nom de\nJ\u00e9sus-Christ. Je m\u2019abstins de toute nourriture pendant douze heures\njusqu\u2019au coucher du soleil, apr\u00e8s quoi je mangeai un biscuit et une\ngrappe de raisin; puis, ayant termin\u00e9 cette journ\u00e9e comme je l\u2019avais\ncommenc\u00e9e, j\u2019allai me mettre au lit.\nJusque-l\u00e0 je n\u2019avais observ\u00e9 aucun dimanche; parce que, n\u2019ayant eu\nd\u2019abord aucun sentiment de religion dans le c\u0153ur, j\u2019avais omis au\nbout de quelque temps de distinguer la semaine en marquant une hoche\nplus longue pour le dimanche; ainsi je ne pouvais plus r\u00e9ellement le\ndiscerner des autres jours. Mais, quand j\u2019eus additionn\u00e9 mes jours,\ncomme j\u2019ai dit plus haut, et que j\u2019eus reconnu que j\u2019\u00e9tais l\u00e0 depuis\nun an, je divisai cette ann\u00e9e en semaines, et je pris le septi\u00e8me\njour de chacune pour mon dimanche. A la fin de mon calcul, je trouvai\npourtant un jour ou deux de m\u00e9compte.\nCHAPITRE III\n     Excursion \u00e0 travers l\u2019\u00eele.\u2014Second anniversaire.\u2014Nouveaux\n     travaux.\u2014Maraudeurs.\u2014Derni\u00e8res op\u00e9rations.\u2014Robinson\n     potier.\u2014Construction d\u2019un canot.\u2014Reconnaissance.\u2014Assortiment de\n     hardes.\u2014Essai de navigation.\u2014Heureuse d\u00e9livrance.\u2014Robinson et sa\n     cour.\u2014Terreur.\nPeu de temps apr\u00e8s je m\u2019aper\u00e7us que mon encre allait bient\u00f4t me\nmanquer; je me contentai donc d\u2019en user avec un extr\u00eame m\u00e9nagement,\net de noter seulement les \u00e9v\u00e9nements les plus remarquables de ma vie,\nsans continuer un m\u00e9morial journalier de toutes choses.\nLa saison s\u00e8che et la saison pluvieuse commen\u00e7aient d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e0 me para\u00eetre\nr\u00e9guli\u00e8res; je savais les diviser et me pr\u00e9munir contre elles en\ncons\u00e9quence. Mais j\u2019achetai ch\u00e8rement cette exp\u00e9rience, et ce que je\nvais rapporter est l\u2019\u00e9cole la plus d\u00e9courageante que j\u2019aie faite de ma\nvie. J\u2019ai racont\u00e9 plus haut que j\u2019avais mis en r\u00e9serve le peu d\u2019orge\net de riz que j\u2019avais cru pouss\u00e9s spontan\u00e9ment et merveilleusement; il\npouvait bien y avoir trente tiges de riz et vingt d\u2019orge. Les pluies\n\u00e9tant pass\u00e9es et le soleil entrant en s\u2019\u00e9loignant de moi dans sa\nposition m\u00e9ridionale, je crus alors le temps propice pour faire mes\nsemailles.\nJe b\u00eachai donc une pi\u00e8ce de terre du mieux que je pus avec ma pelle\nde bois, et, l\u2019ayant divis\u00e9e en deux portions, je me mis \u00e0 semer mon\ngrain. Mais, pendant cette op\u00e9ration, il me vint par hasard \u00e0 la\npens\u00e9e que je ferais bien de ne pas tout semer en une seule fois, ne\nsachant point si alors le temps \u00e9tait favorable; je ne risquai donc\nque les deux tiers de mes grains, r\u00e9servant \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s une poign\u00e9e\nde chaque sorte. Ce fut plus tard une grande satisfaction pour moi\nque j\u2019eusse fait ainsi. De tous les grains que j\u2019avais sem\u00e9s pas\nun seul ne leva; parce que, les mois suivants \u00e9tant secs, et la\nterre ne recevant point de pluie, ils manqu\u00e8rent d\u2019humidit\u00e9 pour\nleur germination. Rien ne parut donc jusqu\u2019au retour de la saison\npluvieuse, o\u00f9 ils jet\u00e8rent des tiges comme s\u2019ils venaient d\u2019\u00eatre\nnouvellement sem\u00e9s.\n[Illustration: Je me mis \u00e0 semer mon grain.]\nVoyant que mes premi\u00e8res semences ne croissaient point, et devinant\nfacilement que la s\u00e9cheresse en \u00e9tait cause, je cherchai un terrain\nplus humide pour faire un nouvel essai. Je b\u00eachai donc une pi\u00e8ce de\nterre proche de ma nouvelle tonnelle, et je semai le reste de mon\ngrain en f\u00e9vrier, un peu avant l\u2019\u00e9quinoxe du printemps. Ce grain,\nayant pour l\u2019humecter les mois pluvieux de mars et d\u2019avril, poussa\ntr\u00e8s agr\u00e9ablement et donna une fort bonne r\u00e9colte. Mais, comme ce\nn\u2019\u00e9tait seulement qu\u2019une portion de bl\u00e9 que j\u2019avais mis en r\u00e9serve,\nn\u2019ayant pas os\u00e9 aventurer tout ce qui m\u2019en restait encore, je n\u2019eus en\nr\u00e9sultat qu\u2019une tr\u00e8s petite moisson, qui ne montait pas en tout \u00e0 un\ndemi-picotin de chaque sorte.\nToutefois cette exp\u00e9rience m\u2019avait fait passer ma\u00eetre: je savais alors\npositivement quelle \u00e9tait la saison propre \u00e0 ensemencer, et que je\npouvais faire en une ann\u00e9e deux semailles et deux moissons.\nTandis que mon bl\u00e9 croissait, je fis une petite d\u00e9couverte qui me fut\ntr\u00e8s utile par la suite. Aussit\u00f4t que les pluies furent pass\u00e9es et\nque le temps commen\u00e7a \u00e0 se rassurer, ce qui advint vers le mois de\nnovembre, j\u2019allai faire un tour \u00e0 ma tonnelle, o\u00f9, malgr\u00e9 une absence\nde quelques mois, je trouvai tout absolument comme je l\u2019avais laiss\u00e9.\nLe cercle ou la double haie que j\u2019avais faite \u00e9tait non seulement\nferme et enti\u00e8re, mais les pieux que j\u2019avais coup\u00e9s sur quelques\narbres qui s\u2019\u00e9levaient dans les environs, avaient tous bourgeonn\u00e9\net jet\u00e9 de grandes branches, comme font ordinairement les saules,\nqui repoussent la premi\u00e8re ann\u00e9e apr\u00e8s leur \u00e9t\u00eatement. Je ne saurais\ncomment appeler les arbres qui m\u2019avaient fourni ces pieux. Surpris et\ncependant enchant\u00e9 de voir pousser ces jeunes plants, je les \u00e9laguai,\nje les amenai \u00e0 cro\u00eetre aussi \u00e9galement que possible. On ne saurait\ncroire la belle figure qu\u2019ils firent au bout de trois ans. Ma haie\nformait un cercle d\u2019environ trente-cinq verges de diam\u00e8tre; cependant,\nces arbres, car alors je pouvais les appeler ainsi, la couvrirent\nbient\u00f4t enti\u00e8rement, et form\u00e8rent une salle d\u2019ombrage assez touffue et\nassez \u00e9paisse pour loger dessous durant toute la saison s\u00e8che.\nCeci me d\u00e9termina \u00e0 couper encore d\u2019autres pieux pour me faire,\nsemblable \u00e0 celle-ci, une haie en demi-cercle autour de ma muraille,\nj\u2019entends celle de ma premi\u00e8re demeure; j\u2019ex\u00e9cutai donc ce projet, et\nje plantai un double rang de ces arbres ou de ces pieux \u00e0 la distance\nde huit verges de mon ancienne palissade. Ils pouss\u00e8rent aussit\u00f4t,\net form\u00e8rent un beau couvert pour mon habitation; plus tard ils me\nservirent aussi de d\u00e9fense, comme je le dirai en son lieu.\nJ\u2019avais reconnu alors que les saisons de l\u2019ann\u00e9e pouvaient en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral\nse diviser, non en \u00e9t\u00e9 et en hiver, comme en Europe, mais en temps de\npluie et de s\u00e9cheresse, qui g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement se succ\u00e8dent ainsi:\n  Moiti\u00e9 de f\u00e9vrier, }\n  Mars,              } Pluie, le soleil \u00e9tant dans ou proche l\u2019\u00e9quinoxe.\n  Moiti\u00e9 d\u2019avril.    }\n  Moiti\u00e9 d\u2019avril,    }\n  Juin,              } S\u00e9cheresse, le soleil \u00e9tant alors au nord\n  Moiti\u00e9 d\u2019ao\u00fbt.     }\n  Moiti\u00e9 d\u2019ao\u00fbt,     }\n  Septembre,         } Pluie, le soleil \u00e9tant revenu.\n  Moiti\u00e9 d\u2019octobre.  }\n  Moiti\u00e9 d\u2019octobre,  }\n  D\u00e9cembre,          } S\u00e9cheresse, le soleil \u00e9tant au sud de la ligne.\n  Moiti\u00e9 de f\u00e9vrier. }\nLa saison pluvieuse durait plus ou moins longtemps, selon les vents\nqui venaient \u00e0 souffler; mais c\u2019\u00e9tait une observation g\u00e9n\u00e9rale que\nj\u2019avais faite. Comme j\u2019avais appris \u00e0 mes d\u00e9pens combien il \u00e9tait\ndangereux de se trouver dehors par les pluies, j\u2019avais le soin de\nfaire mes provisions \u00e0 l\u2019avance, pour n\u2019\u00eatre point oblig\u00e9 de sortir;\net je restais \u00e0 la maison autant que possible durant les mois pluvieux.\nPendant ce temps je ne manquais pas de travaux,\u2014m\u00eame tr\u00e8s convenables\n\u00e0 cette situation,\u2014car j\u2019avais grand besoin de bien des choses, dont\nje ne pouvais me fournir que par un rude labeur et une constante\napplication. Par exemple, j\u2019essayai de plusieurs mani\u00e8res \u00e0 me tresser\nun panier; mais les baguettes que je me procurais pour cela \u00e9taient\nsi cassantes, que je n\u2019en pouvais rien faire. Ce fut alors d\u2019un tr\u00e8s\ngrand avantage pour moi, que, tout enfant, je me fusse plu \u00e0 m\u2019arr\u00eater\nchez un vannier de la ville o\u00f9 mon p\u00e8re r\u00e9sidait, et \u00e0 le regarder\nfaire ses ouvrages d\u2019osier. Officieux, comme le sont ordinairement\nles petits gar\u00e7ons, et grand observateur de sa mani\u00e8re d\u2019ex\u00e9cuter ses\nouvrages, quelquefois je lui pr\u00eatais la main; j\u2019avais donc acquis\npar ce moyen une connaissance parfaite des proc\u00e9d\u00e9s du m\u00e9tier; il ne\nme manquait que des mat\u00e9riaux. Je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis enfin que les rameaux de\nl\u2019arbre sur lequel j\u2019avais coup\u00e9 mes pieux, qui avaient drageonn\u00e9,\npourraient bien \u00eatre aussi flexibles que le saule, le marsault et\nl\u2019osier d\u2019Angleterre, et je r\u00e9solus de m\u2019en assurer.\nCons\u00e9quemment, le lendemain j\u2019allai \u00e0 ma maison de campagne, comme je\nl\u2019appelais, et, ayant coup\u00e9 quelques petites branches, je les trouvai\naussi convenables que je pouvais le d\u00e9sirer. Muni d\u2019une hache, je\nrevins dans les jours suivants, pour en abattre une bonne quantit\u00e9\nque je trouvai sans peine, car il y en avait l\u00e0 en grande abondance.\nJe les mis en dedans de mon enceinte ou de mes haies pour les faire\ns\u00e9cher, et d\u00e8s qu\u2019elles furent propres \u00e0 \u00eatre employ\u00e9es, je les\nportai dans ma grotte, o\u00f9, durant la saison suivante, je m\u2019occupai\n\u00e0 fabriquer,\u2014aussi bien qu\u2019il \u00e9tait possible,\u2014un grand nombre de\ncorbeilles pour porter de la terre, ou pour transporter ou conserver\ndivers objets dont j\u2019avais besoin. Quoique je ne les eusse pas faites\ntr\u00e8s \u00e9l\u00e9gamment, elles me furent pourtant suffisamment utiles; aussi,\ndepuis lors, j\u2019eus l\u2019intention de ne jamais m\u2019en laisser manquer; et,\n\u00e0 mesure que ma vannerie d\u00e9p\u00e9rissait, j\u2019en refaisais de nouvelle. Je\nfabriquai surtout des mannes fortes et profondes, pour y serrer mon\ngrain au lieu de l\u2019ensacher, quand je viendrais \u00e0 faire une bonne\nmoisson.\nCette difficult\u00e9 \u00e9tant surmont\u00e9e, ce qui me prit un temps infini, je\nme tourmentai l\u2019esprit pour voir s\u2019il ne serait pas possible que je\nsuppl\u00e9asse \u00e0 deux autres besoins. Pour tous vaisseaux qui pussent\ncontenir des liquides, je n\u2019avais que deux barils encore presque\npleins de _rhum_, quelques bouteilles de verre de m\u00e9diocre grandeur,\net quelques flacons carr\u00e9s contenant des eaux et des spiritueux. Je\nn\u2019avais pas seulement un pot pour faire bouillir dedans quoi que ce\nf\u00fbt, except\u00e9 une chaudi\u00e8re que j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9e du navire, mais qui\n\u00e9tait trop grande pour faire du bouillon ou faire \u00e9tuver un morceau de\nviande pour moi seul. La seconde chose que j\u2019aurais bien d\u00e9sir\u00e9 avoir,\nc\u2019\u00e9tait une pipe \u00e0 tabac; mais il m\u2019\u00e9tait impossible d\u2019en fabriquer\nune. Cependant, \u00e0 la fin, je trouvai aussi une assez bonne invention\npour cela.\nJe m\u2019\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 tout l\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9 ou toute la saison s\u00e8che \u00e0 planter mes\nseconds rangs de palis ou de pieux, quand une autre affaire vint me\nprendre plus de temps que je n\u2019en avais r\u00e9serv\u00e9 pour mes loisirs.\nJ\u2019ai dit plus haut que j\u2019avais une grande envie d\u2019explorer toute\nl\u2019\u00eele, que j\u2019avais pouss\u00e9 ma course jusqu\u2019au ruisseau, puis jusqu\u2019au\nlieu o\u00f9 j\u2019avais construit ma tonnelle, et d\u2019o\u00f9 j\u2019avais une belle\nperc\u00e9e jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la mer, sur l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele. Je r\u00e9solus donc\nd\u2019aller par la traverse jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce rivage; et, prenant mon mousquet,\nma hache, mon chien, une plus grande provision de poudre que de\ncoutume, et garnissant mon havresac de deux biscuits et d\u2019une grosse\ngrappe de raisin, je commen\u00e7ai mon voyage. Quand j\u2019eus travers\u00e9 la\nvall\u00e9e o\u00f9 se trouvait situ\u00e9e ma tonnelle dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 plus haut,\nje d\u00e9couvris la mer \u00e0 l\u2019ouest, et, comme il faisait un temps fort\nclair, je distinguai parfaitement une terre: \u00e9tait-ce une \u00eele ou le\ncontinent, je ne pouvais le dire; elle \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s haute et s\u2019\u00e9tendait\nfort loin de l\u2019ouest \u00e0 l\u2019ouest-sud-ouest, et me paraissait ne pas\n\u00eatre \u00e9loign\u00e9e de moins de quinze ou vingt lieues.\nMais quelle contr\u00e9e du monde \u00e9tait-ce? Tout ce qu\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait permis\nde savoir, c\u2019est qu\u2019elle devait n\u00e9cessairement faire partie de\nl\u2019Am\u00e9rique. D\u2019apr\u00e8s toutes mes observations, je conclus qu\u2019elle\nconfinait aux possessions espagnoles, qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait sans doute toute\nhabit\u00e9e par des sauvages, et que si j\u2019y eusse abord\u00e9, j\u2019aurais eu\n\u00e0 subir un sort pire que n\u2019\u00e9tait le mien. J\u2019acquies\u00e7ai donc aux\ndispositions de la Providence, qui, je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 le reconna\u00eetre et\n\u00e0 le croire, ordonne chaque chose pour le mieux. C\u2019est ainsi que je\ntranquillisai mon esprit, bien loin de me tourmenter du vain d\u00e9sir\nd\u2019aller en ce pays.\nEn outre, apr\u00e8s que j\u2019eus bien r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi sur cette d\u00e9couverte, je\npensai que si cette terre faisait partie du littoral espagnol, je\nverrais infailliblement, une fois ou une autre, passer et repasser\nquelques vaisseaux; et que, si le cas contraire \u00e9ch\u00e9ait, ce serait\nune preuve que cette c\u00f4te faisait partie de celle qui s\u2019\u00e9tend entre\nle pays espagnol et le Br\u00e9sil; c\u00f4te habit\u00e9e par la pire esp\u00e8ce des\nsauvages, car ils sont cannibales ou mangeurs d\u2019hommes, et ne manquent\njamais de massacrer et de d\u00e9vorer tous ceux qui tombent entre leurs\nmains.\nEn faisant ces r\u00e9flexions, je marchais en avant tout \u00e0 loisir. Ce c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde l\u2019\u00eele me parut beaucoup plus agr\u00e9able que le mien; les savanes\n\u00e9taient douces, verdoyantes, \u00e9maill\u00e9es de fleurs et sem\u00e9es de bosquets\ncharmants. Je vis une multitude de perroquets, et il me prit envie\nd\u2019en attraper un s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible, pour le garder, l\u2019apprivoiser et\nlui apprendre \u00e0 causer avec moi. Apr\u00e8s m\u2019\u00eatre donn\u00e9 assez de peine,\nj\u2019en surpris un jeune, je l\u2019abattis d\u2019un coup de b\u00e2ton, et, l\u2019ayant\nrelev\u00e9, je l\u2019emportai \u00e0 la maison. Plusieurs ann\u00e9es s\u2019\u00e9coul\u00e8rent avant\nque je pusse le faire parler; mais enfin je lui appris \u00e0 m\u2019appeler\nfamili\u00e8rement par mon nom. L\u2019aventure qui en r\u00e9sulta, quoique ce\nne soit qu\u2019une bagatelle, pourra fort bien \u00eatre, en son lieu, tr\u00e8s\ndivertissante.\n[Illustration: Je l\u2019abattis d\u2019un coup de b\u00e2ton.]\nCe voyage me fut excessivement agr\u00e9able: je trouvai dans les basses\nterres des animaux que je crus \u00eatre des li\u00e8vres et des renards: mais\nils \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s diff\u00e9rents de toutes les autres esp\u00e8ces que j\u2019avais\nvues jusqu\u2019alors. Bien que j\u2019en eusse tu\u00e9 plusieurs, je ne satisfis\npoint mon envie d\u2019en manger. A quoi bon m\u2019aventurer? je ne manquais\npas d\u2019aliments, et de tr\u00e8s bons, surtout de trois sortes: des ch\u00e8vres,\ndes pigeons et des ch\u00e9lones ou tortues. Ajoutez \u00e0 cela mes raisins,\net le march\u00e9 de Leadenhall n\u2019aurait pu fournir une table mieux que\nmoi, \u00e0 proportion des convives. Malgr\u00e9 ma situation, en somme assez\nd\u00e9plorable, j\u2019avais pourtant grand sujet d\u2019\u00eatre reconnaissant; car,\nbien loin d\u2019\u00eatre entra\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0 aucune extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 pour ma subsistance, je\njouissais d\u2019une abondance pouss\u00e9e m\u00eame jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la d\u00e9licatesse.\nDans ce voyage je ne marchais jamais plus de deux milles ou environ\npar jour; mais je prenais tant de tours et de d\u00e9tours pour voir si je\nne ferais point quelque d\u00e9couverte, que j\u2019arrivais assez fatigu\u00e9 au\nlieu o\u00f9 je d\u00e9cidais de m\u2019\u00e9tablir pour la nuit. Alors j\u2019allais me loger\ndans un arbre, ou bien je m\u2019entourais de pieux plant\u00e9s en terre depuis\nun arbre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 un autre, pour que les b\u00eates farouches ne pussent\nvenir \u00e0 moi sans m\u2019\u00e9veiller. En atteignant \u00e0 la rive de la mer, je\nfus surpris de voir que le plus mauvais c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele m\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e9chu:\ncelle-ci \u00e9tait couverte de tortues, tandis que sur mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 je n\u2019en\navais trouv\u00e9 que trois en un an et demi. Il y avait aussi une foule\nd\u2019oiseaux de diff\u00e9rentes esp\u00e8ces dont quelques-unes m\u2019\u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0\nconnues, et pour la plupart fort bons \u00e0 manger; mais parmi ceux-l\u00e0 je\nn\u2019en connaissais aucun de nom, except\u00e9 ceux qu\u2019on appelle PINGOUINS.\n[Illustration: ... une foule d\u2019oiseaux de diff\u00e9rentes esp\u00e8ces.]\nJ\u2019en aurais pu tuer tout autant qu\u2019il m\u2019aurait plu, mais j\u2019\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s\nm\u00e9nager de ma poudre et de mon plomb; j\u2019eusse bien pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 tuer une\nch\u00e8vre s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 possible, parce qu\u2019il y aurait eu davantage \u00e0\nmanger. Cependant, quoique les boucs fussent en plus grande abondance\ndans cette portion de l\u2019\u00eele que dans l\u2019autre, il \u00e9tait n\u00e9anmoins\nbeaucoup plus difficile de les approcher, parce que la campagne \u00e9tant\nplate et rase, ils m\u2019apercevaient de bien plus loin que lorsque\nj\u2019\u00e9tais sur les collines.\nJ\u2019avoue que ce canton \u00e9tait infiniment plus agr\u00e9able que le mien, et\npourtant il ne me vint pas le moindre d\u00e9sir de d\u00e9m\u00e9nager. J\u2019\u00e9tais fix\u00e9\n\u00e0 mon habitation, je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 m\u2019y faire, et tout le temps que\nje demeurai par l\u00e0, il me semblait que j\u2019\u00e9tais en voyage loin de ma\npatrie. Toutefois, je marchai le long de la c\u00f4te vers l\u2019est pendant\nenviron douze milles; puis alors je plantai une grande perche sur\nle rivage pour me servir de point de rep\u00e8re, et je me d\u00e9terminai\n\u00e0 retourner au logis. A mon voyage suivant je pris \u00e0 l\u2019est de ma\ndemeure, afin de gagner le c\u00f4t\u00e9 oppos\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, et je tournai jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nce que je parvinsse \u00e0 mon jalon. Je dirai cela en temps et place.\nJe pris, pour m\u2019en retourner, un autre chemin que celui par o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais\nvenu, pensant que je pourrais ais\u00e9ment me reconna\u00eetre dans toute\nl\u2019\u00eele, et que je ne pourrais manquer de retrouver ma premi\u00e8re demeure\nen explorant le pays; mais je m\u2019abusais; car, lorsque j\u2019eus fait\ndeux ou trois milles, je me trouvai descendu dans une immense vall\u00e9e\nenvironn\u00e9e de collines si bois\u00e9es, que rien ne pouvait me diriger\ndans ma route, le soleil except\u00e9; encore e\u00fbt-il fallu au moins que je\nconnusse tr\u00e8s bien la position de cet astre \u00e0 cette heure du jour.\nIl arriva que pour surcro\u00eet d\u2019infortune, tandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais dans cette\nvall\u00e9e, le temps se couvrit de brumes pour trois ou quatre jours.\nComme il ne m\u2019\u00e9tait pas possible de voir le soleil, je r\u00f4dai tr\u00e8s\nmalencontreusement, et je fus enfin oblig\u00e9 de regagner le bord de\nla mer, de chercher mon jalon et de reprendre la route par laquelle\nj\u2019\u00e9tais venu. Alors je retournai chez moi, mais \u00e0 petites journ\u00e9es,\nle soleil \u00e9tant excessivement chaud, et mon fusil, mes munitions, ma\nhache et tout mon \u00e9quipement extr\u00eamement lourds.\nMon chien, dans ce trajet, surprit un jeune chevreau et le saisit.\nJ\u2019accourus aussit\u00f4t, je m\u2019en emparai et je le sauvai vivant de sa\ngueule. J\u2019avais un tr\u00e8s grand d\u00e9sir de l\u2019amener \u00e0 la maison s\u2019il \u00e9tait\npossible; souvent j\u2019avais song\u00e9 aux moyens de prendre un cabri ou deux\npour former une race de boucs domestiques, qui pourraient fournir \u00e0 ma\nnourriture quand ma poudre et mon plomb seraient consomm\u00e9s.\nJe fis un collier pour cette petite cr\u00e9ature, et, avec un cordon que\nje tressai avec du fil de caret, que je portais toujours avec moi,\nje le menai en laisse, non sans difficult\u00e9, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je fusse\narriv\u00e9 \u00e0 ma tonnelle o\u00f9 je l\u2019enfermai et le laissai; j\u2019\u00e9tais si\nimpatient de rentrer chez moi apr\u00e8s un mois d\u2019absence!\nJe ne saurais comment exprimer quelle satisfaction ce fut pour moi\nde me retrouver dans ma vieille huche[16], et de me coucher dans mon\nhamac. Ce petit voyage \u00e0 l\u2019aventure, sans retraite assur\u00e9e, m\u2019avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 si d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able, que ma propre maison me semblait un \u00e9tablissement\nparfait en comparaison; et cela me fit si bien sentir le confortable\nde tout ce qui m\u2019environnait, que je r\u00e9solus de ne plus m\u2019en \u00e9loigner\npour un temps aussi long, tant que mon sort me retiendrait sur cette\n\u00eele.\nJe me reposai une semaine pour me restaurer et me r\u00e9galer apr\u00e8s mon\nlong p\u00e8lerinage. La majeure partie de ce temps fut absorb\u00e9e par une\naffaire importante, la fabrication d\u2019une cage pour mon Poll, qui\ncommen\u00e7ait alors \u00e0 \u00eatre quelqu\u2019un de la maison et \u00e0 se familiariser\nparfaitement avec moi. Je me ressouvins enfin de mon pauvre biquet\nque j\u2019avais parqu\u00e9 dans mon petit enclos, et je r\u00e9solus d\u2019aller le\nchercher et de lui porter quelque nourriture. Je m\u2019y rendis donc, et\nje le trouvai o\u00f9 je l\u2019avais laiss\u00e9:\u2014au fait il ne pouvait sortir,\u2014mais\nil \u00e9tait presque mourant de faim. J\u2019allai couper quelques rameaux aux\narbres et quelques branches aux arbrisseaux que je pus trouver, et je\nles lui jetai. Quand il les eut brout\u00e9s, je le liai comme j\u2019avais fait\nauparavant et je l\u2019emmenai; mais il \u00e9tait si mat\u00e9 par l\u2019inanition, que\nje n\u2019aurais pas m\u00eame eu besoin de le tenir en laisse: il me suivit\ncomme un chien. Comme je continuai de le nourrir, il devint si aimant,\nsi gentil, si doux, qu\u2019il fut d\u00e8s lors un de mes serviteurs, et que\ndepuis il ne voulut jamais m\u2019abandonner.\nLa saison pluvieuse de l\u2019\u00e9quinoxe automnal \u00e9tait revenue. J\u2019observai\nl\u2019anniversaire du 30 SEPTEMBRE, jour de mon d\u00e9barquement dans l\u2019\u00eele,\navec la m\u00eame solennit\u00e9 que la premi\u00e8re fois. Il y avait alors deux\nans que j\u2019\u00e9tais l\u00e0, et je n\u2019entrevoyais pas plus ma d\u00e9livrance que\nle premier jour de mon arriv\u00e9e. Je passai cette journ\u00e9e enti\u00e8re \u00e0\nremercier humblement le ciel de toutes les faveurs merveilleuses dont\nil avait combl\u00e9 ma vie solitaire, et sans lesquelles j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9\ninfiniment plus mis\u00e9rable. J\u2019adressai \u00e0 Dieu d\u2019humbles et sinc\u00e8res\nactions de gr\u00e2ce de ce qu\u2019il lui avait plu de me d\u00e9couvrir que m\u00eame,\ndans cette solitude, je pouvais \u00eatre plus heureux que je ne l\u2019eusse\n\u00e9t\u00e9 au sein de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 et de tous les plaisirs du monde; je le\nb\u00e9nis encore de ce qu\u2019il remplissait les vides de mon isolement et\nla privation de toute compagnie humaine par sa pr\u00e9sence et par la\ncommunication de sa gr\u00e2ce, assistant, r\u00e9confortant et encourageant mon\n\u00e2me \u00e0 se reposer ici-bas sur sa providence, et \u00e0 esp\u00e9rer jouir de sa\npr\u00e9sence \u00e9ternelle dans l\u2019autre vie.\nCe fut alors que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 sentir profond\u00e9ment combien la vie\nque je menais, m\u00eame avec toutes ces circonstances p\u00e9nibles, \u00e9tait\nplus heureuse que la maudite et d\u00e9testable vie que j\u2019avais faite\ndurant toute la portion \u00e9coul\u00e9e de mes jours. Mes chagrins et mes\njoies \u00e9taient chang\u00e9s, mes d\u00e9sirs \u00e9taient autres, mes affections\nn\u2019avaient plus le m\u00eame penchant, et mes jouissances \u00e9taient totalement\ndiff\u00e9rentes de ce qu\u2019elles \u00e9taient dans les premiers temps de mon\ns\u00e9jour, ou au fait pendant les deux ann\u00e9es pass\u00e9es.\nAutrefois, lorsque je sortais, soit pour chasser, soit pour visiter\nla campagne, l\u2019angoisse que mon \u00e2me ressentait de ma condition se\nr\u00e9veillait tout \u00e0 coup, et mon c\u0153ur d\u00e9faillait en ma poitrine, \u00e0 la\nseule pens\u00e9e que j\u2019\u00e9tais en ces bois, ces montagnes, ces solitudes,\net que j\u2019\u00e9tais un prisonnier sans ran\u00e7on, enferm\u00e9 dans un morne\nd\u00e9sert par l\u2019\u00e9ternelle barri\u00e8re de l\u2019Oc\u00e9an. Au milieu de mes plus\ngrands calmes d\u2019esprit, cette pens\u00e9e fondait sur moi comme un orage et\nme faisait tordre mes mains et pleurer comme un enfant. Quelquefois\nelle me surprenait au fort de mon travail, je m\u2019asseyais aussit\u00f4t,\nje soupirais, et durant une heure ou deux, les yeux fich\u00e9s en terre,\nje restais l\u00e0. Mon mal n\u2019en devenait que plus cuisant. Si j\u2019avais pu\nd\u00e9bonder en larmes, \u00e9clater en paroles, il se serait dissip\u00e9, et la\ndouleur, apr\u00e8s m\u2019avoir \u00e9puis\u00e9, se serait elle-m\u00eame abattue.\nMais alors je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 me repa\u00eetre de nouvelles pens\u00e9es. Je\nlisais chaque jour la parole de Dieu, et j\u2019en appliquais toutes les\nconsolations \u00e0 mon \u00e9tat pr\u00e9sent. Un matin que j\u2019\u00e9tais fort triste,\nj\u2019ouvris la Bible \u00e0 ce passage:\u2014\u00abJAMAIS, JAMAIS, JE NE TE D\u00c9LAISSERAI;\nJE NE T\u2019ABANDONNERAI JAMAIS!\u00bb\u2014Imm\u00e9diatement il me sembla que ces mots\ns\u2019adressaient \u00e0 moi; pourquoi autrement m\u2019auraient-ils \u00e9t\u00e9 envoy\u00e9s\njuste au moment o\u00f9 je me d\u00e9solais sur ma situation, comme un \u00eatre\nabandonn\u00e9 de Dieu et des hommes?\u2014\u00abEh bien! me dis-je, si Dieu ne me\nd\u00e9laisse point, que n\u2019importe que tout le monde me d\u00e9laisse! puisque,\nau contraire, si j\u2019avais le monde entier, et que je perdisse la faveur\net les b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu, rien ne pourrait contre-balancer cette\nperte.\u00bb\nD\u00e8s ce moment-l\u00e0 j\u2019arr\u00eatai en mon esprit qu\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait possible d\u2019\u00eatre\nplus heureux dans cette condition solitaire que je ne l\u2019eusse jamais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 dans le monde en toute autre position. Entra\u00een\u00e9 par cette pens\u00e9e,\nj\u2019allais remercier le Seigneur de m\u2019avoir rel\u00e9gu\u00e9 en ce lieu.\nMais \u00e0 cette pens\u00e9e quelque chose, je ne sais ce que ce fut, me\nfrappa l\u2019esprit et m\u2019arr\u00eata.\u2014\u00abComment peux-tu \u00eatre assez hypocrite,\nm\u2019\u00e9criai-je, pour te pr\u00e9tendre reconnaissant d\u2019une condition dont\ntu t\u2019efforces de te satisfaire, bien qu\u2019au fond du c\u0153ur tu prierais\nplut\u00f4t pour en \u00eatre d\u00e9livr\u00e9?\u00bb\u2014Ainsi j\u2019en restai l\u00e0. Mais quoique\nje n\u2019eusse pu remercier Dieu de mon exil, toutefois je lui rendis\ngr\u00e2ce sinc\u00e8rement de m\u2019avoir ouvert les yeux par des afflictions\nprovidentielles, afin que je pusse reconna\u00eetre ma vie pass\u00e9e, pleurer\nsur mes fautes et me repentir. Je n\u2019ouvrais jamais la Bible ni ne la\nfermais sans qu\u2019int\u00e9rieurement mon \u00e2me ne b\u00e9n\u00eet Dieu d\u2019avoir inspir\u00e9\nla pens\u00e9e \u00e0 mon ami d\u2019Angleterre d\u2019emballer, sans aucun avis de moi,\nce saint livre parmi mes marchandises, et d\u2019avoir permis que plus tard\nje le sauvasse des d\u00e9bris du navire.\nCe fut dans cette disposition d\u2019esprit que je commen\u00e7ai ma troisi\u00e8me\nann\u00e9e; et, quoique je ne veuille point fatiguer le lecteur d\u2019une\nrelation aussi circonstanci\u00e9e de mes travaux de cette ann\u00e9e que de\nceux de la premi\u00e8re, cependant il est bon qu\u2019il soit en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral\nremarqu\u00e9 que je demeurais tr\u00e8s rarement oisif. Je r\u00e9partissais\nr\u00e9guli\u00e8rement mon temps entre toutes les occupations quotidiennes que\nje m\u2019\u00e9tais impos\u00e9es. Tels \u00e9taient premi\u00e8rement mes devoirs envers Dieu\net la lecture des Saintes \u00c9critures, auxquels je vaquais sans faute,\nquelquefois m\u00eame jusqu\u2019\u00e0 trois fois par jour; secondement ma promenade\navec mon mousquet \u00e0 la recherche de ma nourriture, ce qui me prenait\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ralement trois heures de la matin\u00e9e quand il ne pleuvait pas;\ntroisi\u00e8mement l\u2019arrangement, l\u2019appr\u00eat, la conservation et la cuisson\nde ce que j\u2019avais tu\u00e9 pour ma subsistance. Tout ceci employait en\ngrande partie ma journ\u00e9e. En outre, il doit \u00eatre consid\u00e9r\u00e9 que dans\nle milieu du jour, lorsque le soleil \u00e9tait \u00e0 son z\u00e9nith, la chaleur\n\u00e9tait trop accablante pour agir; en sorte qu\u2019on doit supposer que dans\nl\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi tout mon temps de travail n\u2019\u00e9tait que de quatre heures\nenviron; avec cette variante que parfois je changeais mes heures de\ntravail et de chasse, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que je travaillais dans la matin\u00e9e\net sortais avec mon mousquet sur le soir.\nA cette bri\u00e8vet\u00e9 du temps fix\u00e9 pour le travail, veuillez ajouter\nl\u2019excessive difficult\u00e9 de ma besogne, et toutes les heures que, par\nmanque d\u2019outils, par manque d\u2019aide et par manque d\u2019habilet\u00e9, chaque\nchose que j\u2019entreprenais me faisait perdre. Par exemple je fus\nquarante-deux jours entiers \u00e0 me fa\u00e7onner une planche de tablette dont\nj\u2019avais besoin dans ma grotte, tandis que deux scieurs avec leurs\noutils et leurs tr\u00e9teaux, en une demi-journ\u00e9e, en auraient tir\u00e9 six\nd\u2019un seul arbre.\nVoici comment je m\u2019y pris: j\u2019abattis un gros arbre de la largeur que\nma planche devait avoir. Il me fallut trois jours pour le couper et\ndeux pour l\u2019\u00e9brancher et en faire une pi\u00e8ce de charpente. A force de\nhacher et de tailler, je r\u00e9duisis les deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s en copeaux, jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nce qu\u2019elle f\u00fbt assez l\u00e9g\u00e8re pour \u00eatre remu\u00e9e. Alors je la tournai\net je corroyai une de ses faces, comme une planche, d\u2019un bout \u00e0\nl\u2019autre; puis je tournai ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 dessous et je la b\u00fbchai sur l\u2019autre\nface jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019elle f\u00fbt r\u00e9duite \u00e0 un madrier de trois pouces\nd\u2019\u00e9paisseur environ. Il n\u2019y a personne qui ne puisse juger quelle rude\nbesogne c\u2019\u00e9tait pour mes mains; mais le travail et la patience m\u2019en\nfaisaient venir \u00e0 bout comme de bien d\u2019autres choses; j\u2019ai seulement\ncit\u00e9 cette particularit\u00e9 pour montrer comment une si grande portion\nde mon temps s\u2019\u00e9coulait \u00e0 faire si peu d\u2019ouvrage; c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que\ntelle besogne, qui pourrait n\u2019\u00eatre rien quand on a de l\u2019aide et des\noutils, devient un \u00e9norme travail, et demande un temps prodigieux pour\nl\u2019ex\u00e9cuter seulement avec ses mains.\nMais, nonobstant, avec de la pers\u00e9v\u00e9rance et de la peine, j\u2019achevai\nbien des choses, et, au fait, toutes les choses que ma position\nexigeait que je fisse, comme il appara\u00eetra par ce qui suit.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors dans les mois de novembre et de d\u00e9cembre, attendant\nma r\u00e9colte d\u2019orge et de riz. Le terrain que j\u2019avais labour\u00e9 ou\nb\u00each\u00e9 n\u2019\u00e9tait pas grand; car, ainsi que je l\u2019ai fait observer, mes\nsemailles de chaque esp\u00e8ce n\u2019\u00e9quivalaient pas \u00e0 un demi-picotin,\nparce que j\u2019avais perdu toute une moisson pour avoir ensemenc\u00e9 dans\nla saison s\u00e8che. Toutefois, la moisson promettait d\u2019\u00eatre belle, quand\nje m\u2019aper\u00e7us tout \u00e0 coup que j\u2019\u00e9tais en danger de la voir d\u00e9truite\nenti\u00e8rement par divers ennemis dont il \u00e9tait \u00e0 peine possible de se\ngarder: d\u2019abord par les boucs, et ces animaux sauvages que j\u2019ai nomm\u00e9s\nli\u00e8vres, qui, ayant t\u00e2t\u00e9 du go\u00fbt exquis du bl\u00e9, s\u2019y tapissaient nuit\net jour, et le broutaient \u00e0 mesure qu\u2019il poussait, et si pr\u00e8s du pied\nqu\u2019il n\u2019aurait pas eu le temps de monter en \u00e9pis.\nJe ne vis d\u2019autre rem\u00e8de \u00e0 ce mal que d\u2019entourer mon bl\u00e9 d\u2019une haie,\nqui me co\u00fbta beaucoup de peines, et d\u2019autant plus que cela requ\u00e9rait\nc\u00e9l\u00e9rit\u00e9, car les animaux ne cessaient point de faire du ravage.\nN\u00e9anmoins, comme ma terre en labour \u00e9tait petite en raison de ma\nsemaille, en trois semaines environ je parvins \u00e0 la clore totalement.\nPendant le jour je faisais feu sur ces maraudeurs, et la nuit je leur\nopposais mon chien, que j\u2019attachais dehors \u00e0 un poteau, et qui ne\ncessait d\u2019aboyer. En peu de temps les ennemis abandonn\u00e8rent donc la\nplace, et ma moisson cr\u00fbt belle et bien, et commen\u00e7a bient\u00f4t \u00e0 m\u00fbrir.\nMais si les b\u00eates avaient ravag\u00e9 mon bl\u00e9 en herbe, les oiseaux me\nmenac\u00e8rent d\u2019une nouvelle ruine quand il fut mont\u00e9 en \u00e9pis. Un jour\nque je longeais mon champ pour voir comment cela allait, j\u2019aper\u00e7us\nune multitude d\u2019oiseaux, je ne sais pas de combien de sortes, qui\nentouraient ma petite moisson et qui semblaient \u00e9pier l\u2019instant o\u00f9\nje partirais. Je fis aussit\u00f4t une d\u00e9charge sur eux,\u2014car je sortais\ntoujours avec mon mousquet.\u2014A peine eus-je tir\u00e9, qu\u2019une nu\u00e9e\nd\u2019oiseaux que je n\u2019avais point vus s\u2019\u00e9leva du milieu m\u00eame des bl\u00e9s.\nJe fus profond\u00e9ment navr\u00e9: je pr\u00e9vis qu\u2019en peu de jours ils\nd\u00e9truiraient toutes mes esp\u00e9rances, que je tomberais dans la disette,\net que je ne pourrais jamais amener \u00e0 bien une moisson. Et je ne\nsavais que faire \u00e0 cela! Je r\u00e9solus pourtant de sauver mon grain s\u2019il\n\u00e9tait possible, quand bien m\u00eame je devrais faire sentinelle jour et\nnuit. Avant tout j\u2019entrai dans la pi\u00e8ce pour reconna\u00eetre le dommage\nexistant, et je vis qu\u2019ils en avaient g\u00e2t\u00e9 une bonne partie, mais que\ncependant, comme il \u00e9tait encore trop vert pour eux, la perte n\u2019\u00e9tait\npas extr\u00eame, et que le reste donnerait une bonne moisson, si je\npouvais le pr\u00e9server.\nJe m\u2019arr\u00eatai un instant pour recharger mon mousquet, puis, m\u2019avan\u00e7ant\nun peu, je pus voir ais\u00e9ment mes larrons branch\u00e9s sur tous les arbres\nd\u2019alentour semblant attendre mon d\u00e9part, ce que l\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nement confirma;\ncar, m\u2019\u00e9cartant de quelques pas comme si je m\u2019en allais, je ne fus pas\nplut\u00f4t hors de leur vue qu\u2019ils s\u2019abattirent de nouveau un \u00e0 un dans\nles bl\u00e9s. J\u2019\u00e9tais si vex\u00e9, que je n\u2019eus pas la patience d\u2019attendre\nqu\u2019ils fussent tous descendus; je sentais que chaque grain \u00e9tait\npour ainsi dire une miche qu\u2019ils me d\u00e9voraient. Je me rapprochai de\nla haie, je fis feu de nouveau et j\u2019en tuai trois. C\u2019\u00e9tait justement\nce que je souhaitais; je les ramassai, et je fis d\u2019eux comme on\nfait des insignes voleurs en Angleterre, je les pendis \u00e0 un gibet\npour la terreur des autres. On n\u2019imaginerait pas quel bon effet\ncela produisit: non seulement les oiseaux ne revinrent plus dans\nles bl\u00e9s, mais ils \u00e9migr\u00e8rent de toute cette partie de l\u2019\u00eele, et je\nn\u2019en vis jamais un seul aux environs tout le temps que pendirent mes\n\u00e9pouvantails.\n[Illustration: Je fis feu de nouveau.]\n[Illustration: Je les pendis \u00e0 un gibet.]\nJe fus extr\u00eamement content de cela, comme on peut en avoir\nl\u2019assurance; et sur la fin de d\u00e9cembre, qui est le temps de la seconde\nmoisson de l\u2019ann\u00e9e, je fis la r\u00e9colte de mon bl\u00e9.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais pitoyablement outill\u00e9 pour cela; je n\u2019avais ni faux ni\nfaucille pour le couper; tout ce que je pus faire, ce fut d\u2019en\nfabriquer une de mon mieux avec un des braquemarts ou coutelas que\nj\u2019avais sauv\u00e9s du b\u00e2timent parmi d\u2019autres armes. Mais, comme ma\nmoisson \u00e9tait petite, je n\u2019eus pas grande difficult\u00e9 \u00e0 la recueillir.\nBref, je la fis \u00e0 ma mani\u00e8re: car je sciai les \u00e9pis, je les emportai\ndans une grande corbeille que j\u2019avais tress\u00e9e, et je les \u00e9grenai\nentre mes mains. A la fin de toute ma r\u00e9colte, je trouvai que le\ndemi-picotin que j\u2019avais sem\u00e9 m\u2019avait produit pr\u00e8s de deux boisseaux\nde riz et environ deux boisseaux et demi d\u2019orge, autant que je pus en\njuger, puisque je n\u2019avais alors aucune mesure.\nCeci fut pour moi un grand sujet d\u2019encouragement; je pressentis\nqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019avenir il plairait \u00e0 Dieu que je ne manquasse pas de pain.\nToutefois je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas encore hors d\u2019embarras: je ne savais\ncomment moudre ou comment faire de la farine de mon grain, comment le\nvanner et le bluter; ni m\u00eame, si je parvenais \u00e0 le mettre en farine,\ncomment je pourrais en faire du pain; et enfin, si je parvenais \u00e0\nen faire du pain, comment je pourrais le faire cuire. Toutes ces\ndifficult\u00e9s, jointes au d\u00e9sir que j\u2019avais d\u2019avoir une grande quantit\u00e9\nde provisions, et de m\u2019assurer constamment ma subsistance, me firent\nprendre la r\u00e9solution de ne point toucher \u00e0 cette r\u00e9colte, de la\nconserver tout enti\u00e8re pour les semailles de la saison prochaine,\net, \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque, de consacrer toute mon application et toutes mes\nheures de travail \u00e0 accomplir le grand \u0153uvre de me pourvoir de bl\u00e9 et\nde pain.\nC\u2019est alors que je pouvais dire avec v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que je travaillais\npour mon pain. N\u2019est-ce pas chose \u00e9tonnante, et \u00e0 laquelle peu de\npersonnes r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissent, l\u2019\u00e9norme multitude d\u2019objets n\u00e9cessaires pour\nentreprendre, produire, soigner, pr\u00e9parer, faire et achever _une\nparcelle de pain_.\nMoi, qui \u00e9tais r\u00e9duit \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9tat de pure nature, je sentais que c\u2019\u00e9tait\nl\u00e0 mon d\u00e9couragement de chaque jour, et d\u2019heure en heure cela m\u2019\u00e9tait\ndevenu plus \u00e9vident, d\u00e8s lors m\u00eame que j\u2019eus recueilli la poign\u00e9e de\nbl\u00e9 qui, comme je l\u2019ai dit, avait cr\u00fb d\u2019une fa\u00e7on si inattendue et si\n\u00e9merveillante.\nPremi\u00e8rement je n\u2019avais point de charrue pour labourer la terre, ni\nde b\u00eache ou de pelle pour la fouir. Il est vrai que je suppl\u00e9ai \u00e0\ncela en fabriquant une pelle de bois dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, mais\nelle faisait ma besogne grossi\u00e8rement; et, quoiqu\u2019elle m\u2019e\u00fbt co\u00fbt\u00e9 un\ngrand nombre de jours, comme le tour n\u2019en \u00e9tait point garni de fer,\nnon seulement elle s\u2019usa plus t\u00f4t, mais elle rendait mon travail plus\np\u00e9nible et tr\u00e8s imparfait.\nMais, r\u00e9sign\u00e9 \u00e0 tout, je travaillais avec patience, et l\u2019insucc\u00e8s\nne me rebutait point. Quand mon bl\u00e9 fut sem\u00e9, je n\u2019avais point de\nherse, je fus oblig\u00e9 de passer dessus moi-m\u00eame et de tra\u00eener une\ngrande et lourde branche derri\u00e8re moi, avec laquelle, pour ainsi dire,\nj\u2019\u00e9gratignais la terre plut\u00f4t que je ne la hersais ou ratissais.\nQuand il fut en herbe ou mont\u00e9 en \u00e9pis, comme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait\nobserver, de combien de choses n\u2019eus-je pas besoin pour l\u2019enclore,\nle pr\u00e9server, le faucher, le moissonner, le transporter au logis, le\nbattre, le vanner et le serrer? Ensuite il me fallut un moulin pour\nle moudre, des sas pour bluter la farine, du levain et du sel pour\np\u00e9trir; et enfin un four pour faire cuire le pain, ainsi qu\u2019on pourra\nle voir dans la suite. Je fus r\u00e9duit \u00e0 faire toutes ces choses sans\naucun de ces instruments, et cependant mon bl\u00e9 fut pour moi une source\nde bien-\u00eatre et de consolation. Ce manque d\u2019instruments, je le r\u00e9p\u00e8te,\nme rendait toute op\u00e9ration lente et p\u00e9nible, mais il n\u2019y avait \u00e0 cela\npoint de rem\u00e8de. D\u2019ailleurs, mon temps \u00e9tant divis\u00e9, je ne pouvais le\nperdre enti\u00e8rement. Une portion de chaque jour \u00e9tait donc affect\u00e9e\n\u00e0 ces ouvrages; et, comme j\u2019avais r\u00e9solu de ne point faire du pain\nde mon bl\u00e9 jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019en eusse une grande provision, j\u2019avais\nles six mois prochains pour appliquer tout mon travail et toute mon\nindustrie \u00e0 me fournir d\u2019ustensiles n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 la manutention des\ngrains que je recueillerais pour mon usage.\nIl me fallut d\u2019abord pr\u00e9parer un terrain plus grand; j\u2019avais d\u00e9j\u00e0\nassez de grains pour ensemencer un acre de terre; mais avant que\nd\u2019entreprendre ceci, je passai au moins une semaine \u00e0 me fabriquer une\nb\u00eache, une triste b\u00eache en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, et si pesante que mon ouvrage en\n\u00e9tait une fois plus p\u00e9nible.\nN\u00e9anmoins je passai outre, et j\u2019emblavai deux pi\u00e8ces de terre plates\net unies aussi proche de ma maison que je le jugeai convenable, et\nje les entourai d\u2019une bonne cl\u00f4ture dont les pieux \u00e9taient faits du\nm\u00eame bois que j\u2019avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 plant\u00e9, et qui drageonnait. Je savais\nqu\u2019au bout d\u2019une ann\u00e9e j\u2019aurais une haie vive qui n\u2019exigerait que peu\nd\u2019entretien. Cet ouvrage ne m\u2019occupa gu\u00e8re moins de trois mois, parce\nqu\u2019une grande partie de ce temps se trouva dans la saison pluvieuse,\nqui ne me permettait pas de sortir.\nC\u2019est au logis, tandis qu\u2019il pleuvait et que je ne pouvais mettre le\npied dehors, que je m\u2019occupai de la mati\u00e8re qui va suivre, observant\ntoutefois que pendant que j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage je m\u2019amusais \u00e0 causer\navec mon perroquet, et \u00e0 lui enseigner \u00e0 parler. Je lui appris\npromptement \u00e0 conna\u00eetre son nom, et \u00e0 dire assez distinctement Poll,\nqui fut le premier mot que j\u2019entendis prononcer dans l\u2019\u00eele par une\nautre bouche que la mienne. Ce n\u2019\u00e9tait point l\u00e0 mon travail, mais\ncela m\u2019aidait beaucoup \u00e0 le supporter[17]. Alors, comme je l\u2019ai\ndit, j\u2019avais une grande affaire sur les bras. J\u2019avais song\u00e9 depuis\nlongtemps \u00e0 n\u2019importe quel moyen de me fa\u00e7onner quelques vases de\nterre dont j\u2019avais un besoin extr\u00eame; mais je ne savais pas comment\ny parvenir. N\u00e9anmoins, consid\u00e9rant la chaleur du climat, je ne\ndoutais pas que si je pouvais d\u00e9couvrir de l\u2019argile, je n\u2019arrivasse\n\u00e0 fabriquer un pot qui, s\u00e9ch\u00e9 au soleil, serait assez dur et assez\nfort pour \u00eatre mani\u00e9 et contenir des choses s\u00e8ches qui demandent \u00e0\n\u00eatre gard\u00e9es ainsi; et, comme il me fallait des vaisseaux pour la\npr\u00e9paration du bl\u00e9 et de la farine que j\u2019allais avoir, je r\u00e9solus\nd\u2019en faire quelques-uns aussi grands que je pourrais, et propres \u00e0\ncontenir, comme des jarres, tout ce qu\u2019on voudrait y renfermer.\nJe ferais piti\u00e9 au lecteur, ou plut\u00f4t je le ferais rire, si je disais\nde combien de fa\u00e7ons maladroites je m\u2019y pris pour modeler cette\nglaise; combien je fis de vases difformes, bizarres et ridicules;\ncombien il s\u2019en affaissa, combien il s\u2019en renversa, l\u2019argile n\u2019\u00e9tant\npas assez ferme pour supporter son propre poids; combien, pour les\navoir expos\u00e9s trop t\u00f4t, se f\u00eal\u00e8rent \u00e0 l\u2019ardeur du soleil; combien\ntomb\u00e8rent en pi\u00e8ces seulement en les bougeant soit avant comme soit\napr\u00e8s qu\u2019ils furent secs; en un mot, comment apr\u00e8s que j\u2019eus travaill\u00e9\nsi rudement pour trouver de la glaise, pour l\u2019extraire, l\u2019accommoder,\nla transporter chez moi, et la modeler, je ne pus fabriquer, en deux\nmois environ, que deux grandes machines de terre grotesques, que je\nn\u2019ose appeler jarres.\n[Illustration: Je ne pus fabriquer que deux grandes machines de terre\ngrotesques.]\nToutefois, le soleil les ayant bien cuites et bien durcies, je les\nsoulevai tr\u00e8s doucement et je les pla\u00e7ai dans deux grands paniers\nd\u2019osier que j\u2019avais faits expr\u00e8s pour qu\u2019elles ne pussent \u00eatre\nbris\u00e9es; et, comme entre le pot et le panier il y avait du vide, je\nle remplis avec de la paille de riz et d\u2019orge. Je comptais, si ces\njarres restaient toujours s\u00e8ches, y serrer mes grains et peut-\u00eatre\nm\u00eame ma farine, quand ils seraient \u00e9grug\u00e9s.\nBien que pour mes grands vases je me fusse m\u00e9compt\u00e9 grossi\u00e8rement, je\nfis n\u00e9anmoins beaucoup de plus petites choses avec assez de succ\u00e8s,\ntelles que des pots ronds, des assiettes plates, des cruches et des\njattes, que ma main modelait et que la chaleur du soleil cuisait et\ndurcissait \u00e9tonnamment.\nMais tout cela ne r\u00e9pondait point encore \u00e0 mes fins, qui \u00e9taient\nd\u2019avoir un pot pour contenir un liquide et aller au feu, ce qu\u2019aucun\nde ceux que j\u2019avais n\u2019aurait pu faire. Au bout de quelque temps il\narriva que, ayant fait un assez grand feu pour r\u00f4tir de la viande,\nau moment o\u00f9 je la retirais \u00e9tant cuite, je trouvai dans le foyer un\ntesson d\u2019un de mes pots de terre cuit dur comme une pierre et rouge\ncomme une tuile. Je fus agr\u00e9ablement surpris de voir cela, et je me\ndis qu\u2019assur\u00e9ment ma poterie pourrait se faire cuire en son entier,\npuisqu\u2019elle cuisait bien en morceaux.\nCette d\u00e9couverte fit que je m\u2019appliquai \u00e0 rechercher comment je\npourrais disposer mon feu pour y cuire quelques pots. Je n\u2019avais\naucune id\u00e9e du four dont les potiers se servent, ni de leurs vernis,\net j\u2019avais pourtant du plomb pour en faire. Je pla\u00e7ai donc trois\ngrandes cruches et deux ou trois autres pots, en pile les uns sur\nles autres, sur un gros tas de cendres chaudes, et j\u2019allumai un feu\nde bois tout \u00e0 l\u2019entour. J\u2019entretins le feu sur tous les c\u00f4t\u00e9s et\nsur le sommet, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019eusse vu mes pots rouges de part en\npart et remarqu\u00e9 qu\u2019ils n\u2019\u00e9taient point fendus. Je les maintins \u00e0 ce\ndegr\u00e9 pendant cinq ou six heures environ, au bout desquelles j\u2019en\naper\u00e7us un qui, sans \u00eatre f\u00eal\u00e9, commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 fondre et \u00e0 couler. Le\nsable, m\u00eal\u00e9 \u00e0 la glaise, se liqu\u00e9fiait par la violence de la chaleur,\net se serait vitrifi\u00e9 si j\u2019eusse poursuivi. Je diminuai donc mon\nbrasier graduellement, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que mes pots perdissent leur couleur\nrouge. Ayant veill\u00e9 toute la nuit pour que le feu ne s\u2019abatt\u00eet point\ntrop promptement, au point du jour je me vis possesseur de trois\nexcellentes, je n\u2019ose pas dire cruches, et deux autres pots aussi bien\ncuits que je pouvais le d\u00e9sirer. Un d\u2019entre eux avait \u00e9t\u00e9 parfaitement\nverni par la fonte du gravier.\nApr\u00e8s cette \u00e9preuve, il n\u2019est pas n\u00e9cessaire de dire que je ne manquai\nplus d\u2019aucun vase pour mon usage; mais je dois avouer que leur forme\n\u00e9tait fort insignifiante, comme on peut le supposer. Je les modelais\nabsolument comme les enfants qui font des boulettes de terre grasse,\nou comme une femme qui voudrait faire des p\u00e2t\u00e9s sans avoir jamais\nappris \u00e0 p\u00e2tisser.\nJamais joie pour une chose si minime n\u2019\u00e9gala celle que je ressentis\nen voyant que j\u2019avais fait un pot qui pourrait supporter le feu; et\n\u00e0 peine eus-je la patience d\u2019attendre qu\u2019il f\u00fbt tout \u00e0 fait refroidi\npour le remettre sur le feu avec un peu d\u2019eau dedans pour faire\nbouillir de la viande, ce qui me r\u00e9ussit admirablement bien. Je\nfis un excellent bouillon avec un morceau de chevreau; cependant je\nmanquais de gruau et de plusieurs autres ingr\u00e9dients n\u00e9cessaires pour\nle rendre aussi bon que j\u2019aurais pu l\u2019avoir.\nJ\u2019eus un nouvel embarras pour me procurer un mortier de pierre o\u00f9\nje pusse piler ou \u00e9craser mon grain; quant \u00e0 un moulin, il n\u2019y\navait pas lieu de penser qu\u2019avec le seul secours de mes mains je\nparvinsse jamais \u00e0 ce degr\u00e9 d\u2019industrie. Pour suppl\u00e9er \u00e0 ce besoin,\nj\u2019\u00e9tais vraiment tr\u00e8s embarrass\u00e9, car de tous les m\u00e9tiers du monde,\nle m\u00e9tier de tailleur de pierre \u00e9tait celui pour lequel j\u2019avais le\nmoins de dispositions; d\u2019ailleurs je n\u2019avais point d\u2019outils pour\nl\u2019entreprendre. Je passai plusieurs jours \u00e0 chercher une grande\npierre assez \u00e9paisse pour la creuser et faire un mortier; mais je\nn\u2019en trouvai pas, si ce n\u2019est dans de solides rochers, et que je ne\npouvais ni tailler ni extraire. Au fait, il n\u2019y avait point de roches\ndans l\u2019\u00eele d\u2019une suffisante duret\u00e9, elles \u00e9taient toutes d\u2019une nature\nsablonneuse et friable, qui n\u2019aurait pu r\u00e9sister aux coups d\u2019un pilon\npesant, et le bl\u00e9 n\u2019aurait pu s\u2019y broyer sans qu\u2019il s\u2019y m\u00eal\u00e2t du\nsable. Apr\u00e8s avoir perdu ainsi beaucoup de temps \u00e0 la recherche d\u2019une\npierre, je renon\u00e7ai, et je me d\u00e9terminai \u00e0 chercher un grand billot de\nbois dur, que je trouvai beaucoup plus ais\u00e9ment. J\u2019en choisis un si\ngros qu\u2019\u00e0 peine pouvais-je le remuer, je l\u2019arrondis et je le fa\u00e7onnai\n\u00e0 l\u2019ext\u00e9rieur avec ma hache et mon herminette; ensuite, avec une\npeine infinie, j\u2019y pratiquai un trou, au moyen du feu, comme font les\nsauvages du Br\u00e9sil pour creuser leurs pirogues. Je fis enfin une hie\nou grand pilon avec de ce bois appel\u00e9 _bois de fer_, et je mis de c\u00f4t\u00e9\nces instruments en attendant ma prochaine r\u00e9colte, apr\u00e8s laquelle je\nme proposai de moudre mon grain, ou plut\u00f4t de l\u2019\u00e9gruger, pour faire du\npain.\nMa difficult\u00e9 suivante fut celle de faire un sas ou blutoir pour\npasser ma farine et la s\u00e9parer du son et de la balle, sans quoi\nje ne voyais pas possibilit\u00e9 que je pusse avoir du pain; cette\ndifficult\u00e9 \u00e9tait si grande que je ne voulais pas m\u00eame y songer, assur\u00e9\nque j\u2019\u00e9tais de n\u2019avoir rien de ce qu\u2019il faut pour faire un tamis;\nj\u2019entends ni canevas fin et clair, ni \u00e9toffe \u00e0 bluter la farine \u00e0\ntravers. J\u2019en restai l\u00e0 pendant plusieurs mois; je ne savais vraiment\nque faire. Le linge qui me restait \u00e9tait en haillons; j\u2019avais bien\ndu poil de ch\u00e8vre, mais je ne savais ni filer ni tisser; et, quand\nm\u00eame je l\u2019eusse su, il me manquait les instruments n\u00e9cessaires. Je\nne trouvai aucun rem\u00e8de \u00e0 cela. Seulement je me ressouvins qu\u2019il y\navait parmi les hardes de matelots que j\u2019avais emport\u00e9es du navire\nquelques cravates de calicot ou de mousseline. J\u2019en pris plusieurs\nmorceaux, et je fis trois petits sas, assez propres \u00e0 leur usage. Je\nfus ainsi pourvu pour quelques ann\u00e9es. On verra en son lieu ce que j\u2019y\nsubstituai plus tard.\nJ\u2019avais ensuite \u00e0 songer \u00e0 la boulangerie, et comment je pourrais\nfaire le pain quand je viendrais \u00e0 avoir du bl\u00e9; car d\u2019abord je\nn\u2019avais point de levain. Comme rien ne pouvait suppl\u00e9er \u00e0 cette\nabsence, je ne m\u2019en embarrassai pas beaucoup. Quant au four, j\u2019\u00e9tais\nvraiment en grande peine.\nA la fin, je trouvai l\u2019exp\u00e9dient que voici: je fis quelques vases de\nterre tr\u00e8s larges et peu profonds, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire qui avaient environ\ndeux pieds de diam\u00e8tre et neuf pouces seulement de profondeur; je\nles cuisis dans le feu, comme j\u2019avais fait des autres, et je les mis\nensuite \u00e0 part. Quand j\u2019avais besoin de cuire, j\u2019allumais d\u2019abord un\ngrand feu sur mon \u00e2tre, qui \u00e9tait pav\u00e9 de briques carr\u00e9es de ma propre\nfabrique; je n\u2019affirmerais pas toutefois qu\u2019elles fussent parfaitement\ncarr\u00e9es.\nQuand le feu de bois \u00e9tait \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s tomb\u00e9 en cendres et en charbons\nardents, je les \u00e9parpillais sur l\u2019\u00e2tre, de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 le couvrir\nenti\u00e8rement, et je les y laissais jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il f\u00fbt tr\u00e8s chaud.\nAlors j\u2019en balayais toutes les cendres, je posais ma miche ou mes\nmiches que je couvrais d\u2019une jatte de terre, autour de laquelle je\nrelevais les cendres pour conserver et augmenter la chaleur. De cette\nmani\u00e8re, aussi bien que dans le meilleur four du monde, je cuisais\nmes pains d\u2019orge, et devins en tr\u00e8s peu de temps un vrai p\u00e2tissier;\ncar je fis des g\u00e2teaux de riz et des _poudings_. Toutefois je n\u2019allai\npoint jusqu\u2019aux p\u00e2t\u00e9s: je n\u2019aurais rien eu \u00e0 y mettre, supposant que\nj\u2019en eusse fait, si ce n\u2019est de la chair d\u2019oiseaux et de la viande de\nch\u00e8vre.\nOn ne s\u2019\u00e9tonnera point de ce que toutes ces choses me prirent une\ngrande partie de la troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon s\u00e9jour dans l\u2019\u00eele, si l\u2019on\nconsid\u00e8re que dans l\u2019intervalle j\u2019eus \u00e0 faire mon labourage et une\nnouvelle moisson. En effet, je r\u00e9coltai mon bl\u00e9 dans sa saison, je le\ntransportai au logis du mieux que je pus, et je le conservai en \u00e9pis\ndans une grande manne jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019eusse le temps de l\u2019\u00e9grainer,\npuisque je n\u2019avais ni aire ni fl\u00e9au pour le battre.\nL\u2019accroissement de mes r\u00e9coltes me for\u00e7a r\u00e9ellement alors \u00e0 agrandir\nma grange. Je manquais d\u2019emplacement pour les serrer; car mes\nsemailles m\u2019avaient rapport\u00e9 au moins vingt boisseaux d\u2019orge et tout\nau moins autant de riz; si bien que d\u00e8s lors je r\u00e9solus de commencer\n\u00e0 en user \u00e0 discr\u00e9tion: mon biscuit depuis longtemps \u00e9tait achev\u00e9. Je\nr\u00e9solus aussi de m\u2019assurer de la quantit\u00e9 qu\u2019il me fallait pour toute\nmon ann\u00e9e, et si je ne pourrais pas ne faire qu\u2019une seule semaille.\nSomme toute, je reconnus que quarante boisseaux d\u2019orge et de riz\n\u00e9taient plus que je n\u2019en pouvais consommer dans un an. Je me\nd\u00e9terminai donc \u00e0 semer chaque ann\u00e9e juste la m\u00eame quantit\u00e9 que la\nderni\u00e8re fois, dans l\u2019esp\u00e9rance qu\u2019elle pourrait largement me pourvoir\nde pain.\nTandis que toutes ces choses se faisaient, mes pens\u00e9es, comme on peut\nle croire, se report\u00e8rent plusieurs fois sur la d\u00e9couverte de la terre\nque j\u2019avais aper\u00e7ue de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele. Je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas sans\nquelques d\u00e9sirs secrets d\u2019aller sur ce rivage, imaginant que je voyais\nla terre ferme, et une contr\u00e9e habit\u00e9e d\u2019o\u00f9 je pourrais d\u2019une fa\u00e7on\nou d\u2019une autre me transporter plus loin, et peut-\u00eatre trouver enfin\nquelques moyens de salut.\nMais dans tout ce raisonnement je ne tenais aucun compte des dangers\nd\u2019une telle entreprise dans le cas o\u00f9 je viendrais \u00e0 tomber entre\nles mains des sauvages, qui pouvaient \u00eatre, comme j\u2019aurais eu raison\nde le penser, plus f\u00e9roces que les lions et les tigres de l\u2019Afrique.\nUne fois en leur pouvoir, il y avait mille chances \u00e0 courir contre\nune qu\u2019ils me tueraient et sans doute me mangeraient. J\u2019avais ou\u00ef\ndire que les peuples de la c\u00f4te des Cara\u00efbes \u00e9taient cannibales ou\nmangeurs d\u2019hommes, et je jugeais par la latitude que je ne devais pas\n\u00eatre fort \u00e9loign\u00e9 de cette c\u00f4te. Supposant que ces nations ne fussent\npoint cannibales, elles auraient pu n\u00e9anmoins me tuer, comme cela\n\u00e9tait advenu \u00e0 d\u2019autres Europ\u00e9ens qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 pris, quoiqu\u2019ils\nfussent au nombre de dix et m\u00eame de vingt, et elles l\u2019auraient pu\nd\u2019autant plus facilement que j\u2019\u00e9tais seul, et ne pouvais opposer que\npeu ou point de r\u00e9sistance. Toutes ces choses, dis-je, que j\u2019aurais d\u00fb\nm\u00fbrement consid\u00e9rer et qui plus tard se pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent \u00e0 mon esprit, ne\nme donn\u00e8rent premi\u00e8rement aucune appr\u00e9hension, ma t\u00eate ne roulait que\nla pens\u00e9e d\u2019aborder \u00e0 ce rivage.\nC\u2019est ici que je regrettai mon gar\u00e7on Xury, et mon long bateau avec sa\nvoile d\u2019_\u00e9paule-de-mouton_, sur lequel j\u2019avais navigu\u00e9 plus de neuf\ncents milles le long de la c\u00f4te d\u2019Afrique; mais c\u2019\u00e9tait un regret\nsuperflu. Je m\u2019avisai alors d\u2019aller visiter la chaloupe de notre\nnavire, qui, comme je l\u2019ai dit, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 lanc\u00e9e au loin sur la rive\ndurant la temp\u00eate, lors de notre naufrage. Elle se trouvait encore\n\u00e0 peu de chose pr\u00e8s dans la m\u00eame situation: renvers\u00e9e par la force\ndes vagues et des vents, elle \u00e9tait presque sens dessus dessous sur\nl\u2019\u00e9minence d\u2019une longue dune de gros sable, mais elle n\u2019\u00e9tait point\nentour\u00e9e d\u2019eau comme auparavant.\nSi j\u2019avais eu quelque aide pour le radouber et le lancer \u00e0 la mer,\nce bateau m\u2019aurait suffi, et j\u2019aurais pu retourner au Br\u00e9sil assez\nais\u00e9ment; mais j\u2019eusse d\u00fb pr\u00e9voir qu\u2019il ne me serait pas plus possible\nde le retourner et de le remettre sur son fond que de remuer l\u2019\u00eele.\nJ\u2019allai n\u00e9anmoins dans les bois, et je coupai des leviers et des\nrouleaux, que j\u2019apportai pr\u00e8s de la chaloupe, d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 essayer ce\nque je pourrais faire, et persuad\u00e9 que si je parvenais \u00e0 la redresser,\nil me serait facile de r\u00e9parer le dommage qu\u2019elle avait re\u00e7u, et d\u2019en\nfaire une excellente embarcation, dans laquelle je pourrais sans\ncrainte aller \u00e0 la mer.\nAu fait, je n\u2019\u00e9pargnai point mes peines dans cette infructueuse\nbesogne, et j\u2019y employai, je pense, trois ou quatre semaines environ.\nEnfin, reconnaissant qu\u2019il \u00e9tait impossible \u00e0 mes faibles forces de la\nsoulever, je me mis \u00e0 creuser le sable en dessous pour la d\u00e9gager et\nla faire tomber; et je pla\u00e7ai des pi\u00e8ces de bois pour la retenir et la\nguider convenablement dans sa chute.\nMais quand j\u2019eus fait cette fouille, je fus encore hors d\u2019\u00e9tat de\nl\u2019\u00e9branler et de p\u00e9n\u00e9trer en dessous, bien loin de pouvoir la pousser\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019eau. Je fus donc forc\u00e9 de l\u2019abandonner; et cependant, bien\nque je d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rasse de cette chaloupe, mon d\u00e9sir de m\u2019aventurer sur\nmer pour gagner le continent augmentait plut\u00f4t qu\u2019il ne d\u00e9croissait,\nau fur et \u00e0 mesure que la chose m\u2019apparaissait plus impraticable.\nCela m\u2019amena enfin \u00e0 penser s\u2019il ne serait pas possible de me\nconstruire, seul et sans outils, avec le tronc d\u2019un grand arbre, une\npirogue toute semblable \u00e0 celles que font les naturels de ces climats.\nJe reconnus que c\u2019\u00e9tait non seulement faisable, mais ais\u00e9. Ce projet\nme souriait infiniment, avec l\u2019id\u00e9e surtout que j\u2019avais en main plus\nde ressources pour l\u2019ex\u00e9cuter qu\u2019aucun n\u00e8gre ou Indien; mais je ne\nconsid\u00e9rais nullement les inconv\u00e9nients particuliers qui me pla\u00e7aient\nau-dessous d\u2019eux; par exemple, le manque d\u2019aide pour mettre ma pirogue\n\u00e0 la mer quand elle serait achev\u00e9e, obstacle beaucoup plus difficile \u00e0\nsurmonter pour moi que toutes les cons\u00e9quences du manque d\u2019outils ne\npouvaient l\u2019\u00eatre pour les Indiens. Effectivement, que devait me servir\nd\u2019avoir choisi un gros arbre dans les bois, d\u2019avoir pu \u00e0 grande peine\nle jeter bas, si apr\u00e8s l\u2019avoir fa\u00e7onn\u00e9 avec mes outils, si apr\u00e8s lui\navoir donn\u00e9 la forme ext\u00e9rieure d\u2019un canot, l\u2019avoir br\u00fbl\u00e9 ou taill\u00e9 en\ndedans pour le creuser, pour en faire une embarcation, si apr\u00e8s tout\ncela, dis-je, il me fallait l\u2019abandonner dans l\u2019endroit m\u00eame o\u00f9 je\nl\u2019aurais trouv\u00e9, incapable de le mettre \u00e0 la mer.\nIl est croyable que si j\u2019eusse fait la moindre r\u00e9flexion sur\nma situation, tandis que je construisais ma pirogue, j\u2019aurais\nimm\u00e9diatement song\u00e9 au moyen de la lancer \u00e0 l\u2019eau; mais j\u2019\u00e9tais si\npr\u00e9occup\u00e9 de mon voyage, que je ne consid\u00e9rai pas une seule fois\ncomment je la transporterais; et vraiment elle \u00e9tait de nature \u00e0\nce qu\u2019il f\u00fbt pour moi plus facile de lui faire franchir en mer\nquarante-cinq milles, que du lieu o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait, quarante-cinq\nbrasses, pour la mettre \u00e0 flot.\nJ\u2019entrepris ce bateau plus follement que ne fit jamais homme ayant ses\nsens \u00e9veill\u00e9s. Je me complaisais dans ce dessein, sans d\u00e9terminer si\nj\u2019\u00e9tais capable de le conduire \u00e0 bonne fin, non pas que la difficult\u00e9\nde le lancer ne me vint souvent en t\u00eate; mais je tranchais court \u00e0\ntout examen par cette r\u00e9ponse insens\u00e9e que je m\u2019adressais:\u2014\u00abAllons,\nfaisons-le d\u2019abord; \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr je trouverai moyen d\u2019une fa\u00e7on ou d\u2019une\nautre de le mettre \u00e0 flot quand il sera fait.\u00bb\nC\u2019\u00e9tait bien la plus absurde m\u00e9thode, mais mon id\u00e9e opini\u00e2tre\npr\u00e9valait: je me mis \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre et j\u2019abattis un c\u00e8dre. Je doute\nbeaucoup que Salomon en ait eu jamais un pareil pour la construction\ndu temple de J\u00e9rusalem. Il avait cinq pieds dix pouces de diam\u00e8tre\npr\u00e8s de la souche et quatre pieds onze pouces \u00e0 la distance de\nvingt-deux pieds, apr\u00e8s quoi il diminuait un peu et se partageait en\nbranches. Ce ne fut pas sans un travail infini que je jetai par terre\ncet arbre; car je fus vingt jours \u00e0 le hacher et le tailler au pied,\net, avec une peine indicible, quatorze jours \u00e0 s\u00e9parer \u00e0 coups de\nhache sa t\u00eate vaste et touffue. Je passai un mois \u00e0 le fa\u00e7onner, \u00e0 le\nmettre en proportion et \u00e0 lui faire une esp\u00e8ce de car\u00e8ne semblable\n\u00e0 celle d\u2019un bateau, afin qu\u2019il p\u00fbt flotter droit sur sa quille\net convenablement. Il me fallut ensuite pr\u00e8s de trois mois pour\n\u00e9vider l\u2019int\u00e9rieur et le travailler de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 en faire une parfaite\nembarcation. En v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je vins \u00e0 bout de cette op\u00e9ration sans\nemployer le feu, seulement avec un maillet et un ciseau et l\u2019ardeur\nd\u2019un rude travail qui ne me quitta pas, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019en eusse fait\nune belle pirogue assez grande pour recevoir vingt-six hommes, et\npar cons\u00e9quent bien assez grande pour me transporter moi et toute ma\ncargaison.\nQuand j\u2019eus achev\u00e9 cet ouvrage, j\u2019en ressentis une joie extr\u00eame: au\nfait, c\u2019\u00e9tait la plus grande pirogue d\u2019une seule pi\u00e8ce que j\u2019eusse vue\nde ma vie. Mais, vous le savez, que de rudes coups ne m\u2019avait-elle\npas co\u00fbt\u00e9s! Il ne me restait plus qu\u2019\u00e0 la lancer \u00e0 la mer; et, si j\u2019y\nfusse parvenu, je ne fais pas de doute que je n\u2019eusse commenc\u00e9 le\nvoyage le plus insens\u00e9 et le plus aventureux qui f\u00fbt jamais entrepris.\nMais tous mes exp\u00e9dients pour l\u2019amener jusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019eau avort\u00e8rent,\nbien qu\u2019ils m\u2019eussent aussi co\u00fbt\u00e9 un travail infini, et qu\u2019elle\nne f\u00fbt \u00e9loign\u00e9e de la mer que de cent verges tout au plus. Comme\npremier inconv\u00e9nient, elle \u00e9tait sur une \u00e9minence \u00e0 pic du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la\nbaie. Nonobstant, pour aplanir cet obstacle, je r\u00e9solus de creuser\nla surface du terrain en pente douce. Je me mis donc \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre. Que\nde sueurs cela me co\u00fbta! Mais compte-t-on ses peines quand on a sa\nlibert\u00e9 en vue? Cette besogne achev\u00e9e et cette difficult\u00e9 vaincue, une\nplus grande existait encore, car il ne m\u2019\u00e9tait pas plus possible de\nremuer cette pirogue qu\u2019il ne me l\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de remuer la chaloupe.\n[Illustration: Je r\u00e9solus de creuser la surface du terrain en pente\ndouce.]\nAlors je mesurai la longueur du terrain, et je me d\u00e9terminai \u00e0 ouvrir\nune darse ou canal pour amener la mer jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la pirogue, puisque je\nne pouvais pas amener ma pirogue jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la mer. Soit! Je me mis donc\n\u00e0 la besogne; et quand j\u2019eus commenc\u00e9 et calcul\u00e9 la profondeur et\nla longueur qu\u2019il fallait que je lui donnasse, et de quelle mani\u00e8re\nj\u2019enl\u00e8verais les d\u00e9blais, je reconnus que, n\u2019ayant de ressources qu\u2019en\nmes bras et en moi-m\u00eame, il me faudrait dix ou douze ann\u00e9es pour en\nvenir \u00e0 bout; car le rivage \u00e9tait si \u00e9lev\u00e9, que l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 sup\u00e9rieure\nde mon bassin aurait d\u00fb \u00eatre profonde de vingt-deux pieds tout au\nmoins. Enfin, quoique \u00e0 regret, j\u2019abandonnai donc aussi ce dessein.\nJ\u2019en fus vraiment navr\u00e9, et je compris alors, mais trop tard, quelle\nfolie c\u2019\u00e9tait d\u2019entreprendre un ouvrage avant d\u2019en avoir calcul\u00e9 les\nfrais et d\u2019avoir bien jug\u00e9 si nos propres forces pourraient le mener \u00e0\nbonne fin.\nAu milieu de cette besogne je finis ma quatri\u00e8me ann\u00e9e dans l\u2019\u00eele, et\nj\u2019en c\u00e9l\u00e9brai l\u2019anniversaire avec la m\u00eame d\u00e9votion et tout autant de\nsatisfaction que les ann\u00e9es pr\u00e9c\u00e9dentes; car, par une \u00e9tude constante\net une s\u00e9rieuse application de la parole de Dieu et par le secours\nde sa gr\u00e2ce, j\u2019acqu\u00e9rais une science bien diff\u00e9rente de celle que je\nposs\u00e9dais autrefois, et j\u2019appr\u00e9ciais tout autrement les choses; je\nconsid\u00e9rais alors le monde comme une terre lointaine o\u00f9 je n\u2019avais\nrien \u00e0 souhaiter, rien \u00e0 d\u00e9sirer; d\u2019o\u00f9 je n\u2019avais rien \u00e0 attendre, en\nun mot avec laquelle je n\u2019avais rien et vraisemblablement ne devais\nplus rien avoir \u00e0 faire. Je pense que je le regardais comme peut-\u00eatre\nle regarderons-nous apr\u00e8s cette vie, je veux dire ainsi qu\u2019un lieu o\u00f9\nj\u2019avais v\u00e9cu, mais d\u2019o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais sorti; et je pouvais bien dire, comme\nnotre p\u00e8re Abraham au mauvais riche:\u2014\u00abENTRE TOI ET MOI IL Y A UN AB\u00ceME\nPROFOND.\u00bb\nL\u00e0, j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9loign\u00e9 de la perversit\u00e9 du monde: je n\u2019avais ni\nconcupiscence de la chair, ni concupiscence des yeux, ni faste de la\nvie. Je ne convoitais rien, car j\u2019avais alors tout ce dont j\u2019\u00e9tais\ncapable de jouir; j\u2019\u00e9tais seigneur de tout le manoir: je pouvais, s\u2019il\nme plaisait, m\u2019appeler roi ou empereur de toute cette contr\u00e9e rang\u00e9e\nsous ma puissance; je n\u2019avais point de rivaux, je n\u2019avais point de\ncomp\u00e9titeur, personne qui disput\u00e2t avec moi le commandement et la\nsouverainet\u00e9. J\u2019aurais pu r\u00e9colter du bl\u00e9 de quoi charger des navires;\nmais, n\u2019en ayant que faire, je n\u2019en semais que suivant mon besoin.\nJ\u2019avais \u00e0 foison des ch\u00e9lones ou tortues de mer, mais une de temps en\ntemps, c\u2019\u00e9tait tout ce que je pouvais consommer; j\u2019avais assez de bois\nde charpente pour construire une flotte de vaisseaux, et quand elle\naurait \u00e9t\u00e9 construite, j\u2019aurais pu faire d\u2019assez abondantes vendanges\npour la charger de passerilles et de vin.\nMais ce dont je pouvais faire usage \u00e9tait seul pr\u00e9cieux pour moi.\nJ\u2019avais de quoi manger et de quoi subvenir \u00e0 mes besoins, que\nm\u2019importait tout le reste! Si j\u2019avais tu\u00e9 du gibier au del\u00e0 de ma\nconsommation, il m\u2019aurait fallu l\u2019abandonner au chien ou aux vers.\nSi j\u2019avais sem\u00e9 plus de bl\u00e9 qu\u2019il ne convenait pour mon usage, il se\nserait g\u00e2t\u00e9. Les arbres que j\u2019avais abattus restaient \u00e0 pourrir sur\nla terre; je ne pouvais les employer qu\u2019au chauffage, et je n\u2019avais\nbesoin de feu que pour pr\u00e9parer mes aliments.\nEn un mot, la nature et l\u2019exp\u00e9rience m\u2019apprirent, apr\u00e8s m\u00fbre\nr\u00e9flexion, que toutes les bonnes choses de l\u2019univers ne sont bonnes\npour nous que suivant l\u2019usage que nous en faisons, et qu\u2019on n\u2019en jouit\nqu\u2019autant qu\u2019on s\u2019en sert ou qu\u2019on les amasse pour les donner aux\nautres, et pas plus. Le ladre le plus rapace de ce monde aurait \u00e9t\u00e9\ngu\u00e9ri de son vice de convoitise, s\u2019il se f\u00fbt trouv\u00e9 \u00e0 ma place; car\nje poss\u00e9dais infiniment plus qu\u2019il ne m\u2019\u00e9tait loisible de d\u00e9penser. Je\nn\u2019avais rien \u00e0 d\u00e9sirer si ce n\u2019est quelques babioles qui me manquaient\net qui pourtant m\u2019auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u2019une grande utilit\u00e9. J\u2019avais, comme\nje l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 consign\u00e9, une petite somme de monnaie, tant en or qu\u2019en\nargent, environ trente-six livres sterling: h\u00e9las! cette triste\nvilenie restait l\u00e0 inutile; je n\u2019en avais que faire, et je pensais\nsouvent en moi-m\u00eame que j\u2019en donnerais volontiers une poign\u00e9e pour\nquelques pipes \u00e0 tabac ou un moulin \u00e0 bras pour moudre mon bl\u00e9; voire\nm\u00eame que je donnerais le tout pour six PENCE de semence de navet et\nde carotte d\u2019Angleterre ou pour une poign\u00e9e de pois et de f\u00e8ves et\nune bouteille d\u2019encre. En ma situation, je n\u2019en pouvais tirer ni\navantage ni b\u00e9n\u00e9fice: cela restait l\u00e0 dans un tiroir, cela pendant la\nsaison pluvieuse se moisissait \u00e0 l\u2019humidit\u00e9 de ma grotte. J\u2019aurais\neu ce tiroir plein de diamants, que c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 la m\u00eame chose, et ils\nn\u2019auraient pas eu plus de valeur pour moi, \u00e0 cause de leur inutilit\u00e9.\nJ\u2019avais alors amen\u00e9 mon \u00e9tat de vie \u00e0 \u00eatre en soi beaucoup plus\nheureux qu\u2019il ne l\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 premi\u00e8rement, et beaucoup plus heureux\npour mon esprit et pour mon corps. Souvent je m\u2019asseyais pour mon\nrepas avec reconnaissance, et j\u2019admirais la main de la divine\nProvidence qui m\u2019avait ainsi dress\u00e9 une table dans le d\u00e9sert. Je\nm\u2019\u00e9tudiais \u00e0 regarder plut\u00f4t le c\u00f4t\u00e9 brillant de ma condition que le\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 sombre, et \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ce dont je jouissais plut\u00f4t que ce dont\nje manquais. Cela me donnait quelquefois de secr\u00e8tes consolations\nineffables. J\u2019appuie ici sur ce fait pour le bien inculquer dans\nl\u2019esprit de ces gens m\u00e9contents qui ne peuvent jouir confortablement\ndes biens que Dieu leur a donn\u00e9s, parce qu\u2019ils tournent leurs regards\net leur convoitise vers des choses qu\u2019il ne leur a point d\u00e9parties.\nTous nos tourments sur ce qui nous manque me semblent proc\u00e9der du\nd\u00e9faut de gratitude pour ce que nous avons.\nUne autre r\u00e9flexion m\u2019\u00e9tait d\u2019un grand usage et sans doute serait de\nm\u00eame pour quiconque tomberait dans une d\u00e9tresse semblable \u00e0 la mienne:\nje comparais ma condition pr\u00e9sente \u00e0 celle \u00e0 laquelle je m\u2019\u00e9tais\npremi\u00e8rement attendu, voire m\u00eame avec ce qu\u2019elle aurait n\u00e9cessairement\n\u00e9t\u00e9, si la bonne providence de Dieu n\u2019avait merveilleusement ordonn\u00e9\nque le navire \u00e9chou\u00e2t pr\u00e8s du rivage, d\u2019o\u00f9 non seulement j\u2019avais pu\nl\u2019atteindre, mais o\u00f9 j\u2019avais pu transporter tout ce que j\u2019en avais\ntir\u00e9 pour mon soulagement et mon bien-\u00eatre; et sans quoi j\u2019aurais\nmanqu\u00e9 d\u2019outils pour travailler, d\u2019armes pour ma d\u00e9fense et de poudre\net de plomb pour me procurer ma nourriture.\nJe passais des heures enti\u00e8res, je pourrais dire des jours entiers \u00e0\nme repr\u00e9senter sous la plus vive couleur ce qu\u2019il aurait fallu que\nje fisse, si je n\u2019avais rien sauv\u00e9 du navire; \u00e0 me repr\u00e9senter que\nj\u2019aurais pu ne rien attraper pour subsistance, si ce n\u2019est quelques\npoissons et quelques tortues; et toutefois, comme il s\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e9coul\u00e9\nun temps assez long avant que j\u2019en eusse rencontr\u00e9, que n\u00e9cessairement\nj\u2019aurais d\u00fb p\u00e9rir tout d\u2019abord; ou que si je n\u2019avais pas p\u00e9ri,\nj\u2019aurais d\u00fb vivre comme un vrai sauvage; enfin \u00e0 me repr\u00e9senter\nque, si j\u2019avais tu\u00e9 une ch\u00e8vre ou un oiseau par quelque stratag\u00e8me,\nje n\u2019aurais pu le d\u00e9pecer ou l\u2019ouvrir, l\u2019\u00e9corcher, le vider ou le\nd\u00e9couper, mais qu\u2019il m\u2019aurait fallu le ronger avec mes dents et le\nd\u00e9chirer avec mes griffes, comme une b\u00eate.\nCes r\u00e9flexions me rendaient tr\u00e8s sensible \u00e0 la bont\u00e9 de la Providence\nenvers moi et tr\u00e8s reconnaissant de ma condition pr\u00e9sente, malgr\u00e9\ntoutes ses mis\u00e8res et toutes ses disgr\u00e2ces. Je dois aussi recommander\nce passage aux r\u00e9flexions de ceux qui sont sujets \u00e0 dire dans leur\ninfortune:\u2014\u00abEST-IL UNE AFFLICTION SEMBLABLE A LA MIENNE?\u00bb\u2014Qu\u2019ils\nconsid\u00e8rent combien est pire le sort de tant de gens, et combien le\nleur aurait pu \u00eatre pire si la Providence l\u2019avait jug\u00e9 convenable.\nJe faisais encore une autre r\u00e9flexion qui m\u2019aidait aussi \u00e0 repa\u00eetre\nmon \u00e2me d\u2019esp\u00e9rances; je comparais ma condition pr\u00e9sente avec celle\nque j\u2019avais m\u00e9rit\u00e9e et que j\u2019avais droit d\u2019attendre de la justice\ndivine. J\u2019avais men\u00e9 une vie mauvaise, enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9pouill\u00e9e de\ntoute connaissance et de toute crainte de Dieu. J\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 bien\n\u00e9duqu\u00e9 par mon p\u00e8re et ma m\u00e8re; ni l\u2019un ni l\u2019autre n\u2019avaient manqu\u00e9 de\nm\u2019inspirer de bonne heure un religieux respect de Dieu, le sentiment\nde mes devoirs et de ce que la nature et ma fin demandaient de moi;\nmais, h\u00e9las! tomb\u00e9 bient\u00f4t dans la vie de marin, de toutes les vies\nla plus d\u00e9nu\u00e9e de la crainte de Dieu, quoiqu\u2019elle soit souvent face\n\u00e0 face avec ses terreurs; tomb\u00e9, dis-je, de bonne heure dans la vie\net dans la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 de marins, tout le peu de religion que j\u2019avais\nconserv\u00e9 avait \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9touff\u00e9 par les d\u00e9risions de mes camarades, par un\nendurcissement et un m\u00e9pris des dangers, par la vue de la mort devenue\nhabituelle pour moi, par mon absence de toute occasion de m\u2019entretenir\nsi ce n\u2019\u00e9tait avec mes pareils, ou d\u2019entendre quelque chose qui f\u00fbt\nprofitable ou qui tend\u00eet au bien.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors si d\u00e9pourvu de tout ce qui est bien, du moindre\nsentiment de ce que j\u2019\u00e9tais ou devais \u00eatre, que dans les plus grandes\nfaveurs dont j\u2019avais joui.\u2014telle que ma fuite de Sall\u00e9, l\u2019accueil\ndu capitaine portugais, le succ\u00e8s de ma plantation au Br\u00e9sil, la\nr\u00e9ception de ma cargaison d\u2019Angleterre,\u2014je n\u2019avais pas eu une seule\nfois ces mots: \u00ab_Merci, \u00f4 mon Dieu!_\u00bb ni dans le c\u0153ur ni \u00e0 la bouche.\nDans mes plus grandes d\u00e9tresses je n\u2019avais seulement jamais song\u00e9\n\u00e0 l\u2019implorer ou \u00e0 lui dire: \u00ab_Seigneur, ayez piti\u00e9 de moi!_\u00bb Je ne\npronon\u00e7ais le nom de Dieu que pour jurer et blasph\u00e9mer.\nJ\u2019eus en mon esprit de terribles r\u00e9flexions durant quelques mois,\ncomme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 remarqu\u00e9, sur l\u2019endurcissement et l\u2019impi\u00e9t\u00e9 de\nma vie pass\u00e9e; et, quand je songeais \u00e0 moi, et consid\u00e9rais quelle\nprovidence particuli\u00e8re avait pris soin de moi depuis mon arriv\u00e9e\ndans l\u2019\u00eele, et combien Dieu m\u2019avait trait\u00e9 g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement, non\nseulement en me punissant moins que ne le m\u00e9ritait mon iniquit\u00e9, mais\nencore en pourvoyant si abondamment \u00e0 ma subsistance, je concevais\nalors l\u2019espoir que mon repentir \u00e9tait accept\u00e9 et que je n\u2019avais pas\nencore lass\u00e9 la mis\u00e9ricorde de Dieu.\nJ\u2019accoutumais mon esprit non seulement \u00e0 la r\u00e9signation aux volont\u00e9s\nde Dieu dans la disposition des circonstances pr\u00e9sentes, mais encore \u00e0\nune sinc\u00e8re gratitude de mon sort, par ces s\u00e9rieuses r\u00e9flexions que,\nmoi, qui \u00e9tais encore vivant, je ne devais pas me plaindre, puisque je\nn\u2019avais pas re\u00e7u le juste ch\u00e2timent de mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s; que je jouissais\nde bien des faveurs que je n\u2019aurais pu raisonnablement esp\u00e9rer en ce\nlieu; que, bien loin de murmurer contre ma condition, je devais en\n\u00eatre fort aise, et rendre gr\u00e2ce chaque jour du pain quotidien qui\nn\u2019avait pu m\u2019\u00eatre envoy\u00e9 que par une suite de prodiges; que je devais\nconsid\u00e9rer que j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 nourri par un miracle aussi grand que celui\nd\u2019\u00c9lie nourri par les corbeaux; voire m\u00eame par une longue s\u00e9rie de\nmiracles! enfin, que je pourrais \u00e0 peine dans les parties inhabit\u00e9es\ndu monde nommer un lieu o\u00f9 j\u2019eusse pu \u00eatre jet\u00e9 plus \u00e0 mon avantage;\nune place o\u00f9, comme dans celle-ci, j\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 priv\u00e9 de toute soci\u00e9t\u00e9,\nce qui d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 faisait mon affliction, mais o\u00f9 aussi je n\u2019eusse\ntrouv\u00e9 ni b\u00eates f\u00e9roces, ni loups, ni tigres furieux pour menacer ma\nvie; ni venimeuses, ni v\u00e9n\u00e9neuses cr\u00e9atures dont j\u2019eusse pu manger\npour ma perte, ni sauvages pour me massacrer et me d\u00e9vorer.\nEn un mot, si d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 ma vie \u00e9tait une vie d\u2019affliction, de l\u2019autre\nc\u2019\u00e9tait une vie de mis\u00e9ricorde; et il ne me manquait, pour en faire\nune vie de bien-\u00eatre, que le sentiment de la bont\u00e9 de Dieu et du\nsoin qu\u2019il prenait en cette solitude d\u2019\u00eatre ma consolation de chaque\njour. Puis ensuite je faisais une juste r\u00e9capitulation de toutes ces\nchoses, je secouais mon \u00e2me, et je n\u2019\u00e9tais plus m\u00e9lancolique.\nIl y avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 si longtemps que j\u2019\u00e9tais dans l\u2019\u00eele, que bien des\nchoses que j\u2019y avais apport\u00e9es pour mon soulagement \u00e9taient ou\nenti\u00e8rement finies ou tr\u00e8s us\u00e9es et pr\u00e8s d\u2019\u00eatre consomm\u00e9es.\nMon encre, comme je l\u2019ai dit plus haut, tirait \u00e0 sa fin depuis\nquelque temps; il ne m\u2019en restait que tr\u00e8s peu, que de temps \u00e0 autre\nj\u2019augmentais avec de l\u2019eau, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019elle devint si p\u00e2le qu\u2019\u00e0\npeine laissait-elle quelque apparence de noir sur le papier. Tant\nqu\u2019elle dura, j\u2019en fis usage pour noter les jours du mois o\u00f9 quelque\nchose de remarquable m\u2019arrivait. Ce m\u00e9morial du temps pass\u00e9 me faisait\nressouvenir qu\u2019il y avait un \u00e9trange rapport de dates entre les\ndivers \u00e9v\u00e9nements qui m\u2019\u00e9taient advenus, et que si j\u2019avais eu quelque\npenchant superstitieux \u00e0 observer des jours heureux et malheureux,\nj\u2019aurais eu lieu de le consid\u00e9rer avec un grand sentiment de curiosit\u00e9.\nD\u2019abord,\u2014je l\u2019avais remarqu\u00e9,\u2014le m\u00eame jour o\u00f9 je rompis avec mon p\u00e8re\net mes parents et m\u2019enfuis \u00e0 Hull pour m\u2019embarquer, ce m\u00eame jour, dans\nla suite, je fus pris par le corsaire de Sall\u00e9 et fait esclave.\nLe m\u00eame jour de l\u2019ann\u00e9e o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9chappai du naufrage dans la rade de\nYarmouth, ce m\u00eame jour, dans la suite, je m\u2019\u00e9chappai de Sall\u00e9 dans un\nbateau.\nLe m\u00eame jour que je naquis, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire le 20 septembre, le m\u00eame jour\nma vie fut sauv\u00e9e vingt-six ans apr\u00e8s, lorsque je fus jet\u00e9 sur mon\n\u00eele. Ainsi ma vie coupable et ma vie solitaire ont commenc\u00e9 toutes\ndeux le m\u00eame jour.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose consomm\u00e9e apr\u00e8s mon encre fut le pain, je veux\ndire le biscuit que j\u2019avais tir\u00e9 du navire. Je l\u2019avais m\u00e9nag\u00e9 avec\nune extr\u00eame r\u00e9serve, ne m\u2019allouant qu\u2019une seule galette par jour\ndurant \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s une ann\u00e9e. N\u00e9anmoins je fus un an entier sans pain\navant que d\u2019avoir du bl\u00e9 de mon cru. Et grande raison j\u2019avais d\u2019\u00eatre\nreconnaissant d\u2019en avoir, sa venue \u00e9tant, comme on l\u2019a vu, presque\nmiraculeuse.\nMes habits aussi commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 s\u2019user; quant au linge, je n\u2019en\navais plus depuis longtemps, except\u00e9 quelques chemises ray\u00e9es que\nj\u2019avais trouv\u00e9es dans les coffres des matelots, et que je conservais\nsoigneusement, parce que souvent je ne pouvais endurer d\u2019autres\nv\u00eatements qu\u2019une chemise. Ce fut une excellente chose pour moi que\nj\u2019en eusse environ trois douzaines parmi les hardes des marins du\nnavire, o\u00f9 se trouvaient aussi quelques grosses houppelandes de\nmatelots, que je laissais en r\u00e9serve parce qu\u2019elles \u00e9taient trop\nchaudes pour les porter. Bien qu\u2019il est vrai les chaleurs fussent si\nviolentes que je n\u2019avais pas besoin d\u2019habits, cependant je ne pouvais\naller enti\u00e8rement nu et quand bien m\u00eame je l\u2019eusse voulu, ce qui\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas. Quoique je fusse tout seul, je n\u2019en pouvais seulement\nsupporter la pens\u00e9e.\nLa raison pour laquelle je ne pouvais aller tout \u00e0 fait nu, c\u2019est que\nl\u2019ardeur du soleil m\u2019\u00e9tait plus insupportable quand j\u2019\u00e9tais ainsi que\nlorsque j\u2019avais quelques v\u00eatements. La grande chaleur me faisait m\u00eame\nsouvent venir des ampoules sur la peau; mais quand je portais une\nchemise, le vent l\u2019agitait et soufflait par-dessous, et je me trouvais\ndoublement au frais. Je ne pus pas davantage m\u2019accoutumer \u00e0 aller au\nsoleil sans un bonnet ou un chapeau: ses rayons dardent si violemment\ndans ces climats, qu\u2019en tombant d\u2019aplomb sur ma t\u00eate, ils me donnaient\nimm\u00e9diatement des migraines, qui se dissipaient aussit\u00f4t que je\nm\u2019\u00e9tais couvert.\nA ces fins je commen\u00e7ai de songer \u00e0 mettre un peu d\u2019ordre dans les\nquelques haillons que j\u2019appelais des v\u00eatements. J\u2019avais us\u00e9 toutes\nmes vestes: il me fallait alors essayer \u00e0 me fabriquer des jaquettes\navec de grandes houppelandes et les autres effets semblables que je\npouvais avoir. Je me mis donc \u00e0 faire le m\u00e9tier de tailleur, ou plut\u00f4t\nde ravaudeur, car je faisais de la piteuse besogne. N\u00e9anmoins je vins\n\u00e0 bout de b\u00e2tir deux ou trois casaques, dont j\u2019esp\u00e9rais me servir\nlongtemps. Quant aux cale\u00e7ons ou hauts-de-chausses, je les fis d\u2019une\nfa\u00e7on vraiment pitoyable.\nJ\u2019ai not\u00e9 que je conservais les peaux de tous les animaux que je\ntuais, des b\u00eates \u00e0 quatre pieds, veux-je dire. Comme je les \u00e9tendais\nau soleil sur des b\u00e2tons, quelques-unes \u00e9taient devenues si s\u00e8ches\net si dures qu\u2019elles n\u2019\u00e9taient bonnes \u00e0 rien; mais d\u2019autres me\nfurent r\u00e9ellement tr\u00e8s profitables. La premi\u00e8re chose que je fis de\nces peaux fut un grand bonnet, avec le poil tourn\u00e9 en dehors pour\nrejeter la pluie; et je m\u2019en acquittai si bien qu\u2019aussit\u00f4t apr\u00e8s\nj\u2019entrepris un habillement tout entier, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire une casaque et\ndes hauts-de-chausses ouverts aux genoux, le tout fort l\u00e2che, car ces\nv\u00eatements devaient me servir plut\u00f4t contre la chaleur que contre le\nfroid. Je dois avouer qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s m\u00e9chamment faits; si j\u2019\u00e9tais\nmauvais charpentier, j\u2019\u00e9tais encore plus mauvais tailleur. N\u00e9anmoins\nils me furent d\u2019un fort bon usage; et quand j\u2019\u00e9tais en course, s\u2019il\nvenait \u00e0 pleuvoir, le poil de ma casaque et de mon bonnet \u00e9tant\next\u00e9rieur, j\u2019\u00e9tais parfaitement garanti.\n[Illustration: J\u2019entrepris un habillement tout entier.]\nJ\u2019employai ensuite beaucoup de temps et de peines \u00e0 me fabriquer un\nparasol, dont v\u00e9ritablement j\u2019avais grand besoin et grande envie.\nJ\u2019en avais vu faire au Br\u00e9sil, o\u00f9 ils sont d\u2019une tr\u00e8s grande utilit\u00e9\ndans les chaleurs excessives qui s\u2019y font sentir, et celles que\nje ressentais en mon \u00eele \u00e9taient pour le moins tout aussi fortes,\npuisqu\u2019elle est plus proche de l\u2019\u00e9quateur. En somme, fort souvent\noblig\u00e9 d\u2019aller au loin, c\u2019\u00e9tait pour moi une excellente chose par\nles pluies comme par les chaleurs. Je pris une peine infinie, et je\nfus extr\u00eamement longtemps sans rien pouvoir faire qui y ressembl\u00e2t.\nApr\u00e8s m\u00eame que j\u2019eus pens\u00e9 avoir atteint mon but, j\u2019en g\u00e2tai deux ou\ntrois avant d\u2019en trouver \u00e0 ma fantaisie. Enfin j\u2019en fa\u00e7onnai un qui\ny r\u00e9pondait assez bien. La principale difficult\u00e9 fut de le rendre\nfermant; car si j\u2019eusse pu l\u2019\u00e9tendre et n\u2019eusse pu le ployer, il\nm\u2019aurait toujours fallu le porter au-dessus de ma t\u00eate, ce qui e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 impraticable. Enfin, ainsi que je le disais, j\u2019en fis un qui\nm\u2019agr\u00e9ait assez; je le couvris de peau, le poil en dehors, de sorte\nqu\u2019il rejetait la pluie comme un auvent, et repoussait si bien le\nsoleil, que je pouvais marcher dans le temps le plus chaud avec plus\nd\u2019agr\u00e9ment que je ne le faisais auparavant dans le temps le plus\nfrais. Quand je n\u2019en avais pas besoin, je le fermais et le portais\nsous mon bras.\nJe vivais ainsi tr\u00e8s confortablement; mon esprit s\u2019\u00e9tait calm\u00e9 en se\nr\u00e9signant \u00e0 la volont\u00e9 de Dieu, et je m\u2019abandonnais enti\u00e8rement aux\ndispositions de sa providence. Cela rendait m\u00eame ma vie meilleure\nque la vie sociale; car lorsque je venais \u00e0 regretter le manque de\nconversation, je me disais: \u00abConverser ainsi mutuellement avec mes\npropres pens\u00e9es et avec mon Cr\u00e9ateur lui-m\u00eame par mes \u00e9lancements et\nmes pri\u00e8res, n\u2019est-ce pas bien pr\u00e9f\u00e9rable \u00e0 la plus grande jouissance\nde la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des hommes?\u00bb\nJe ne saurais dire qu\u2019apr\u00e8s ceci, durant cinq ann\u00e9es, rien\nd\u2019extraordinaire me soit advenu. Ma vie suivit le m\u00eame cours dans\nla m\u00eame situation et dans les m\u00eames lieux qu\u2019auparavant. Outre la\nculture annuelle de mon orge et de mon riz et la r\u00e9colte de mes\nraisins,\u2014je gardais de l\u2019un et de l\u2019autre toujours assez pour avoir\ndevant moi une provision d\u2019un an;\u2014outre ce travail annuel, dis-je,\net mes sorties journali\u00e8res avec mon fusil, j\u2019eus une occupation\nprincipale, la construction d\u2019une pirogue qu\u2019enfin je terminai, et\nque, par un canal que je creusai, large de six pieds et profond de\nquatre, j\u2019amenai dans la crique, \u00e9loign\u00e9e d\u2019un demi-mille environ.\nPour la premi\u00e8re, si d\u00e9mesur\u00e9ment grande, que j\u2019avais entreprise sans\nconsid\u00e9rer d\u2019abord, comme je l\u2019eusse d\u00fb faire, si je pourrais la\nmettre \u00e0 flot, me trouvant toujours dans l\u2019impossibilit\u00e9 de l\u2019amener\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019eau ou d\u2019amener l\u2019eau jusqu\u2019\u00e0 elle, je fus oblig\u00e9 de la\nlaisser o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait, comme un comm\u00e9moratif pour m\u2019enseigner \u00e0 \u00eatre\nplus sage la prochaine fois. Au fait, cette prochaine fois, bien que\nje n\u2019eusse pu trouver un arbre convenable, bien qu\u2019il f\u00fbt dans un lieu\no\u00f9 je ne pouvais conduire l\u2019eau, et, comme je l\u2019ai dit, \u00e0 une distance\nd\u2019environ un demi-mille, ne voyant point la chose impraticable, je ne\nvoulus point l\u2019abandonner. Je fus \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s deux ans \u00e0 ce travail,\ndont je ne me plaignis jamais, soutenu par l\u2019esp\u00e9rance d\u2019avoir une\nbarque et de pouvoir enfin gagner la haute mer.\n[Illustration: ... d\u2019une pirogue que j\u2019amenai dans la crique.]\nCependant, quand ma petite pirogue fut termin\u00e9e, sa dimension\nne r\u00e9pondit point du tout au dessein que j\u2019avais eu en vue en\nentreprenant la premi\u00e8re, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de gagner la terre ferme,\n\u00e9loign\u00e9e d\u2019environ quarante milles. La petitesse de mon embarcation\nmit donc fin \u00e0 ce projet, et je n\u2019y pensai plus; mais je r\u00e9solus de\nfaire le tour de l\u2019\u00eele. J\u2019\u00e9tais all\u00e9 sur un seul point de l\u2019autre\nc\u00f4t\u00e9, en prenant la traverse dans les terres, ainsi que je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0\nnarr\u00e9, et les d\u00e9couvertes que j\u2019avais faites en ce voyage m\u2019avaient\nrendu tr\u00e8s curieux de voir les autres parties des c\u00f4tes. Comme\nalors rien ne s\u2019y opposait, je ne songeai plus qu\u2019\u00e0 faire cette\nreconnaissance.\nDans ce dessein, et pour que je pusse op\u00e9rer plus s\u00fbrement et plus\nr\u00e9guli\u00e8rement, j\u2019adaptai un petit m\u00e2t \u00e0 ma pirogue, et je fis une\nvoile de quelques pi\u00e8ces de celles du navire mises en magasin et que\nj\u2019avais en grande quantit\u00e9 par devers moi.\nAyant ajust\u00e9 mon m\u00e2t et ma voile, je fis l\u2019essai de ma barque, et\nje trouvai qu\u2019elle cinglait tr\u00e8s bien. A ses deux extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s je\nconstruisis alors de petits \u00e9quipets et de petits coffres pour\nenfermer mes provisions, mes munitions, et les garantir de la pluie et\ndes \u00e9claboussures de la mer; puis je creusai une longue cachette o\u00f9\npouvait tenir mon mousquet, et je la recouvris d\u2019un abattant pour le\ngarantir de toute humidit\u00e9.\nA la poupe je pla\u00e7ais mon parasol, fich\u00e9 dans une carlingue comme un\nm\u00e2t, pour me d\u00e9fendre de l\u2019ardeur du soleil et me servir de tendelet;\n\u00e9quip\u00e9 de la sorte, je faisais de temps en temps une promenade sur\nmer, mais je n\u2019allais pas loin et ne m\u2019\u00e9loignais pas de la crique.\nEnfin, impatient de conna\u00eetre la circonf\u00e9rence de mon petit royaume,\nje me d\u00e9cidai \u00e0 faire ce voyage, et j\u2019avitaillai ma pirogue en\ncons\u00e9quence. J\u2019y embarquai deux douzaines de mes pains d\u2019orge,\u2014que\nje devrais plut\u00f4t appeler des g\u00e2teaux,\u2014un pot de terre empli de riz\nsec, dont je faisais une grande consommation, une petite bouteille\nde _rhum_, une moiti\u00e9 de ch\u00e8vre, de la poudre et du plomb pour m\u2019en\nprocurer davantage, et deux grandes houppelandes, de celles dont\nj\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait mention et que j\u2019avais trouv\u00e9es dans les coffres des\nmatelots. Je les pris, l\u2019une pour me coucher dessus et l\u2019autre pour me\ncouvrir pendant la nuit.\nCe fut le 6 novembre, l\u2019an sixi\u00e8me de mon r\u00e8gne ou de ma captivit\u00e9,\ncomme il vous plaira, que je me mis en route pour ce voyage, qui fut\nbeaucoup plus long que je ne m\u2019y \u00e9tais attendu; car, bien que l\u2019\u00eele\nelle-m\u00eame ne f\u00fbt pas tr\u00e8s large, quand je parvins \u00e0 sa c\u00f4te orientale,\nje trouvai un grand r\u00e9cif de rochers s\u2019\u00e9tendant \u00e0 deux lieues en mer,\nles uns au-dessus, les autres en dessous l\u2019eau, et par del\u00e0 un banc de\nsable \u00e0 sec qui se prolongeait \u00e0 plus d\u2019une demi-lieue; de sorte que\nje fus oblig\u00e9 de faire un grand d\u00e9tour pour doubler cette pointe.\nQuand je d\u00e9couvris ce r\u00e9cif, je fus sur le point de renoncer \u00e0 mon\nentreprise et de rebrousser chemin, ne sachant pas de combien il\nfaudrait m\u2019avancer au large, et par-dessus tout comment je pourrais\nrevenir. Je jetai donc l\u2019ancre, car je m\u2019en \u00e9tais fait une avec un\nmorceau de grappin bris\u00e9 que j\u2019avais tir\u00e9 du navire.\nAyant mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9 ma pirogue, je pris mon mousquet, j\u2019allai \u00e0 terre,\net je gravis une colline qui semblait commander ce cap. L\u00e0, j\u2019en\nd\u00e9couvris toute l\u2019\u00e9tendue, et je r\u00e9solus de m\u2019aventurer.\nEn examinant la mer du haut de cette \u00e9minence, j\u2019aper\u00e7us un rapide,\nje dirai m\u00eame un furieux courant qui portait \u00e0 l\u2019est et qui serrait\nla pointe. J\u2019en pris une ample connaissance, parce qu\u2019il me semblait\ny avoir quelque p\u00e9ril, et qu\u2019y \u00e9tant une fois tomb\u00e9, entra\u00een\u00e9 par\nsa violence, je ne pourrais plus regagner mon \u00eele. Vraiment, si je\nn\u2019eusse pas eu la pr\u00e9caution de monter sur cette colline, je crois\nque les choses se seraient ainsi pass\u00e9es; car le m\u00eame courant r\u00e9gnait\nde l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, seulement il s\u2019en tenait \u00e0 une plus grande\ndistance. Je reconnus aussi qu\u2019il y avait un violent remous sous la\nterre. Je n\u2019avais donc rien autre \u00e0 faire qu\u2019\u00e0 \u00e9viter le premier\ncourant, pour me trouver aussit\u00f4t dans un remous.\nJe s\u00e9journai cependant deux jours sur cette colline, parce que le\nvent, qui soufflait assez fort est-sud-est, contrariait le courant et\nformait de violents brisants contre le cap. Il n\u2019\u00e9tait donc s\u00fbr pour\nmoi ni de c\u00f4toyer le rivage \u00e0 cause du ressac, ni de gagner le large \u00e0\ncause du courant.\nLe troisi\u00e8me jour, au matin, le vent s\u2019\u00e9tant abattu durant la nuit,\nla mer \u00e9tant calme, je m\u2019aventurai. Que ceci soit une le\u00e7on pour les\npilotes ignorants et t\u00e9m\u00e9raires! A peine eus-je atteint le cap,\u2014je\nn\u2019\u00e9tais pas \u00e9loign\u00e9 de la terre de la longueur de mon embarcation,\u2014que\nje me trouvai dans des eaux profondes et dans un courant rapide comme\nl\u2019\u00e9cluse d\u2019un moulin. Il drossa ma pirogue avec une telle violence,\nque tout ce que je pus faire ne put la retenir pr\u00e8s du rivage, et de\nplus en plus il m\u2019emporta loin du remous, que je laissai \u00e0 ma gauche.\nComme il n\u2019y avait point de vent pour me seconder, tout ce que je\nfaisais avec mes pagaies ne signifiait rien. Alors je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nme croire perdu; car, les courants r\u00e9gnant des deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s de l\u2019\u00eele,\nje n\u2019ignorais pas qu\u2019\u00e0 la distance de quelques lieues ils devaient\nse rejoindre, et que l\u00e0 ce serait irr\u00e9vocablement fait de moi.\nN\u2019entrevoyant aucune possibilit\u00e9 d\u2019en r\u00e9chapper, je n\u2019avais devant\nmoi que l\u2019image de la mort, et l\u2019espoir, non d\u2019\u00eatre submerg\u00e9, car la\nmer \u00e9tait assez calme, mais de p\u00e9rir de faim. J\u2019avais trouv\u00e9, il est\nvrai, sur le rivage, une grosse tortue dont j\u2019avais presque ma charge,\net que j\u2019avais embarqu\u00e9e; j\u2019avais une grande jarre d\u2019eau douce, une\njarre, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire un de mes pots de terre; mais qu\u2019\u00e9tait tout cela\nsi je venais \u00e0 \u00eatre dross\u00e9 au milieu du vaste Oc\u00e9an, o\u00f9 j\u2019avais\nl\u2019assurance de ne point rencontrer de terres, ni continent ni \u00eele,\navant mille lieues tout au moins?\nJe compris alors combien il est facile \u00e0 la providence de Dieu\nde rendre pire la plus mis\u00e9rable condition de l\u2019humanit\u00e9. Je me\nrepr\u00e9sentais alors mon \u00eele solitaire et d\u00e9sol\u00e9e comme le lieu le plus\ns\u00e9duisant du monde, et l\u2019unique bonheur que souhait\u00e2t mon c\u0153ur \u00e9tait\nd\u2019y rentrer. Plein de ce br\u00fblant d\u00e9sir, je tendais mes bras vers\nelle:\u2014\u00ab_Heureux d\u00e9sert,_ m\u2019\u00e9criais-je, _je ne te verrai donc plus! O\nmis\u00e9rable cr\u00e9ature! o\u00f9 vas-tu?_\u00bb\nAlors je me reprochai mon esprit ingrat. Combien de fois avais-je\nmurmur\u00e9 contre ma condition solitaire! Que n\u2019aurais-je pas donn\u00e9 \u00e0\ncette heure pour \u00eatre sur la plage? Ainsi nous ne voyons jamais le\nv\u00e9ritable \u00e9tat de notre position avant qu\u2019il n\u2019ait \u00e9t\u00e9 rendu \u00e9vident\npar des fortunes contraires, et nous n\u2019appr\u00e9cions nos jouissances\nqu\u2019apr\u00e8s que nous les avons perdues. Il serait \u00e0 peine possible\nd\u2019imaginer quelle \u00e9tait ma consternation en me voyant loin de mon\n\u00eele bien-aim\u00e9e,\u2014telle elle m\u2019apparaissait alors,\u2014emport\u00e9 au milieu\ndu vaste Oc\u00e9an. J\u2019en \u00e9tais \u00e9loign\u00e9 de plus de deux lieues, et je\nd\u00e9sesp\u00e9rais \u00e0 tout jamais de la revoir. Cependant je travaillai\ntoujours rudement, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que mes forces fussent \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\n\u00e9puis\u00e9es, dirigeant du mieux que je pouvais ma pirogue vers le nord,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire au c\u00f4t\u00e9 nord du courant o\u00f9 se trouvait le remous. Dans\nle milieu de la journ\u00e9e, lorsque le soleil passa au m\u00e9ridien, je\ncrus sentir sur mon visage une brise l\u00e9g\u00e8re venant du sud-sud-est.\nCela me remit un peu de courage au c\u0153ur, surtout quand au bout d\u2019une\ndemi-heure environ il s\u2019\u00e9leva un joli frais. En ce moment j\u2019\u00e9tais\n\u00e0 une distance effroyable de mon \u00eele, et si le moindre nuage ou\nla moindre brume f\u00fbt survenue, je me serais \u00e9gar\u00e9 dans ma route;\ncar, n\u2019ayant point \u00e0 bord de compas de mer, je n\u2019aurais su comment\ngouverner sur mon \u00eele si je l\u2019avais une fois perdue de vue. Mais le\ntemps continuant \u00e0 \u00eatre beau, je redressai mon m\u00e2t, je d\u00e9pliai ma\nvoile et portai le cap au nord autant que possible pour sortir du\ncourant.\nA peine avais-je dress\u00e9 mon m\u00e2t et ma voile, \u00e0 peine la pirogue\ncommen\u00e7ait-elle \u00e0 forcer au plus pr\u00e8s, que je m\u2019aper\u00e7us \u00e0 la limpidit\u00e9\nde l\u2019eau que quelque changement allait survenir dans le courant, car\nl\u2019eau \u00e9tait trouble dans les endroits les plus violents. En remarquant\nla clart\u00e9 de l\u2019eau, je sentis le courant qui s\u2019affaiblissait, et au\nm\u00eame instant je vis \u00e0 l\u2019est, \u00e0 un demi-mille environ, la mer qui\nd\u00e9ferlait contre des roches. Ces roches partageaient le courant en\ndeux parties. La plus grande courait encore au sud, laissant les\nroches au nord-est, tandis que l\u2019autre, repouss\u00e9e par l\u2019\u00e9cueil,\nformait un remous rapide qui portait avec force vers le nord-ouest.\nCeux qui savent ce que c\u2019est que de recevoir sa gr\u00e2ce sur l\u2019\u00e9chelle,\nd\u2019\u00eatre sauv\u00e9 de la main des brigands juste au moment d\u2019\u00eatre \u00e9gorg\u00e9, ou\nqui se sont trouv\u00e9s en d\u2019\u00e9quivalentes extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s, ceux-l\u00e0 seulement\npeuvent concevoir ce que fut alors ma surprise joyeuse, avec quel\nempressement je pla\u00e7ai ma pirogue dans la direction de ce remous, avec\nquelle h\u00e2te, la brise fra\u00eechissant, je lui tendis ma voile, et courus\nall\u00e8grement vent arri\u00e8re, dross\u00e9 par un reflux imp\u00e9tueux.\nCe remous me ramena d\u2019une lieue dans mon chemin, directement vers\nmon \u00eele, mais \u00e0 deux lieues plus au nord que le courant qui m\u2019avait\nd\u2019abord dross\u00e9. De sorte qu\u2019en approchant de l\u2019\u00eele je me trouvai vers\nsa c\u00f4te septentrionale, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 son extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 oppos\u00e9e \u00e0 celle\nd\u2019o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais parti.\nQuand j\u2019eus fait un peu plus d\u2019une lieue \u00e0 l\u2019aide de ce courant ou de\nce remous, je sentis qu\u2019il \u00e9tait pass\u00e9 et qu\u2019il ne me portait plus.\nJe trouvai toutefois qu\u2019\u00e9tant entre deux courants, celui au sud qui\nm\u2019avait entra\u00een\u00e9, et celui au nord qui s\u2019\u00e9loignait du premier de deux\nlieues environ sur l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, je trouvai, dis-je, \u00e0 l\u2019ouest de\nl\u2019\u00eele, l\u2019eau tout \u00e0 fait calme et dormante. La brise m\u2019\u00e9tant toujours\nfavorable, je continuai donc \u00e0 gouverner directement sur l\u2019\u00eele, mais\nje ne faisais plus un grand sillage comme auparavant.\nVers quatre heures du soir, \u00e9tant \u00e0 une lieue environ de mon \u00eele,\nje trouvai que la pointe de rochers cause de tout ce malencontre,\ns\u2019avan\u00e7ant vers le sud, comme il est d\u00e9crit plus haut, et rejetant le\ncourant plus au midi, avait form\u00e9 d\u2019elle-m\u00eame un autre remous vers\nle nord. Ce remous me parut tr\u00e8s fort et porter directement dans le\nchemin de ma course, qui \u00e9tait ouest mais presque plein nord. A la\nfaveur d\u2019un bon frais, je cinglai \u00e0 travers ce remous, obliquement au\nnord-ouest, et en une heure j\u2019arrivai \u00e0 un mille de la c\u00f4te. L\u2019eau\n\u00e9tait calme: j\u2019eus bient\u00f4t gagn\u00e9 le rivage.\nD\u00e8s que je fus \u00e0 terre, je tombai \u00e0 genoux, je remerciai Dieu de\nma d\u00e9livrance, r\u00e9solu \u00e0 abandonner toutes pens\u00e9es de fuite sur ma\npirogue; et, apr\u00e8s m\u2019\u00eatre rafra\u00eechi avec ce que j\u2019avais de provisions,\nje la halai tout contre le bord, dans une petite anse que j\u2019avais\nd\u00e9couverte sous quelques arbres, et me mis \u00e0 sommeiller, \u00e9puis\u00e9 par le\ntravail et la fatigue du voyage.\n[Illustration: Je tombai \u00e0 genoux (p. 137).]\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais fort embarrass\u00e9 de savoir comment revenir \u00e0 la maison avec ma\npirogue. J\u2019avais couru trop de dangers, je connaissais trop bien le\ncas, pour penser tenter mon retour par le chemin que j\u2019avais pris\nen venant; et ce que pouvait \u00eatre l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9,\u2014l\u2019ouest, veux-je\ndire,\u2014je l\u2019ignorais et ne voulais plus courir de nouveaux hasards.\nJe me d\u00e9terminai donc, mais seulement dans la matin\u00e9e, \u00e0 longer le\nrivage du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du couchant, pour chercher une crique o\u00f9 je pourrais\nmettre ma fr\u00e9gate en s\u00fbret\u00e9, afin de la retrouver si je venais \u00e0 en\navoir besoin. Ayant c\u00f4toy\u00e9 la terre pendant trois milles ou environ,\nje d\u00e9couvris une tr\u00e8s bonne baie, profonde d\u2019un mille et allant en se\nr\u00e9tr\u00e9cissant jusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019embouchure d\u2019un petit ruisseau. L\u00e0, je trouvai\npour mon embarcation un excellent port, o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait comme dans une\ndarse qui e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 faite tout expr\u00e8s pour elle. Je l\u2019y pla\u00e7ai, et\nl\u2019ayant parfaitement abrit\u00e9e, je mis pied \u00e0 terre pour regarder autour\nde moi et voir o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais.\nJe reconnus bient\u00f4t que j\u2019avais quelque peu d\u00e9pass\u00e9 le lieu o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais\nall\u00e9 lors de mon voyage \u00e0 pied sur ce rivage; et, ne retirant de ma\npirogue que mon mousquet et mon parasol, car il faisait excessivement\nchaud, je me mis en marche. La route \u00e9tait assez agr\u00e9able, apr\u00e8s le\ntrajet que je venais de faire, et j\u2019atteignis sur le soir mon ancienne\ntonnelle, o\u00f9 je trouvai chaque chose comme je l\u2019avais laiss\u00e9e; je la\nmaintenais toujours en bon ordre: car c\u2019\u00e9tait, ainsi que je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0\ndit, ma maison de campagne.\nJe passai par-dessus la palissade, et je me couchai \u00e0 l\u2019ombre pour\nreposer mes membres. J\u2019\u00e9tais harass\u00e9, je m\u2019endormis bient\u00f4t. Mais\njugez si vous le pouvez, vous qui lisez mon histoire, quelle dut\n\u00eatre ma surprise quand je fus arrach\u00e9 \u00e0 mon sommeil par une voix qui\nm\u2019appela plusieurs fois par mon nom:\u2014\u00ab_Robin, Robin, Robin Cruso\u00e9,\npauvre Robin Cruso\u00e9! O\u00f9 \u00eates-vous, Robin Cruso\u00e9? O\u00f9 \u00eates-vous? O\u00f9\n\u00eates-vous all\u00e9?_\u00bb\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais si profond\u00e9ment endormi, fatigu\u00e9 d\u2019avoir ram\u00e9, ou pagay\u00e9,\ncomme cela s\u2019appelle, toute la premi\u00e8re partie du jour et march\u00e9\ndurant toute l\u2019autre, que je ne me r\u00e9veillai pas enti\u00e8rement. Je\nflottais entre le sommeil et le r\u00e9veil, je croyais songer que\nquelqu\u2019un me parlait. Comme la voix continuait de r\u00e9p\u00e9ter: \u00ab_Robin\nCruso\u00e9, Robin Cruso\u00e9_\u00bb,\u2014je m\u2019\u00e9veillai enfin tout \u00e0 fait, horriblement\n\u00e9pouvant\u00e9 et dans la plus grande consternation. Mais \u00e0 peine eus-je\nouvert les yeux que je vis mon POLL perch\u00e9 sur la cime de la haie,\net reconnus aussit\u00f4t que c\u2019\u00e9tait lui qui me parlait. Car c\u2019\u00e9tait\njustement le langage lamentable que j\u2019avais coutume de lui tenir et de\nlui apprendre; et lui l\u2019avait si bien retenu, qu\u2019il venait se poser\nsur mon doigt, approcher son bec de mon visage, et crier:\u2014\u00ab_Pauvre\nRobin Cruso\u00e9, o\u00f9 \u00eates-vous? o\u00f9 \u00eates-vous all\u00e9? Comment \u00eates-vous venu\nici?_\u00bb\u2014et autres choses semblables que je lui avais enseign\u00e9es.\nCependant, bien que j\u2019eusse reconnu que c\u2019\u00e9tait le perroquet, et qu\u2019au\nfait ce ne pouvait \u00eatre personne autre, je fus assez longtemps \u00e0 me\nremettre. J\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9tonn\u00e9 que cet animal f\u00fbt venu l\u00e0, et je cherchais\nquand et comment il y \u00e9tait venu, plut\u00f4t qu\u2019ailleurs. Lorsque je\nfus bien assur\u00e9 que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait personne autre que mon fid\u00e8le POLL,\nje lui tendis la main, je l\u2019appelai par son nom, POLL; et l\u2019aimable\noiseau vint \u00e0 moi, se posa sur mon pouce, comme il avait l\u2019habitude\nde le faire, et continua de me dire:\u2014\u00ab_Pauvre Robin Cruso\u00e9, comment\n\u00eates-vous venu l\u00e0, o\u00f9 \u00eates-vous all\u00e9?_\u00bb\u2014juste comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\nenchant\u00e9 de me revoir; et je l\u2019emportai ainsi avec moi au logis.\nJ\u2019avais alors pour quelque temps tout mon content de courses sur mer;\nj\u2019en avais bien assez pour demeurer tranquille quelques jours et\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur les dangers que j\u2019avais courus. J\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 fort aise\nd\u2019avoir ma pirogue sur mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, mais je ne voyais pas qu\u2019il\nf\u00fbt possible de l\u2019y amener. Quant \u00e0 la c\u00f4te orientale que j\u2019avais\nparcourue, j\u2019\u00e9tais pay\u00e9 pour ne plus m\u2019y aventurer; rien que d\u2019y\npenser, mon c\u0153ur se serrait et mon sang se gla\u00e7ait dans mes veines; et\npour l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, j\u2019ignorais ce qu\u2019il pouvait \u00eatre; mais en\nsupposant que le courant port\u00e2t contre le rivage avec la m\u00eame force\nqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019est, je pouvais courir le m\u00eame risque d\u2019\u00eatre dross\u00e9, et emport\u00e9\nloin de l\u2019\u00eele ainsi que je l\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0. Toutes ces raisons firent\nque je me r\u00e9signai \u00e0 me passer de ma pirogue, quoiqu\u2019elle f\u00fbt le\nproduit de tant de mois de travail pour la faire et de tant de mois\npour la lancer.\nDans cette sagesse d\u2019esprit je v\u00e9cus pr\u00e8s d\u2019un an, d\u2019une vie retir\u00e9e\net s\u00e9dentaire, comme on peut bien se l\u2019imaginer. Mes pens\u00e9es \u00e9tant\nparfaitement accommod\u00e9es \u00e0 ma condition, et m\u2019\u00e9tant tout \u00e0 fait\nconsol\u00e9 en m\u2019abandonnant aux dispensations de la Providence, sauf\nl\u2019absence de soci\u00e9t\u00e9, je pensais mener une vie r\u00e9ellement heureuse en\ntous points.\nDurant cet intervalle je me perfectionnai dans tous les travaux\nm\u00e9caniques auxquels mes besoins me for\u00e7aient de m\u2019appliquer, et\nje serais port\u00e9 \u00e0 croire, consid\u00e9rant surtout combien j\u2019avais peu\nd\u2019outils, que j\u2019aurais pu faire un tr\u00e8s bon charpentier.\nJ\u2019arrivai en outre \u00e0 une perfection inesp\u00e9r\u00e9e en poterie de terre,\net j\u2019imaginai assez bien de la fabriquer avec une roue, ce que je\ntrouvais infiniment mieux et plus commode, parce que je donnais une\nforme ronde et bien proportionn\u00e9e aux m\u00eames choses que je faisais\nauparavant hideuses \u00e0 voir. Mais jamais je ne fus plus glorieux, je\npense, de mon propre ouvrage, plus joyeux de quelque d\u00e9couverte,\nque lorsque je parvins \u00e0 me fa\u00e7onner une pipe. Quoique fort laide,\nfort grossi\u00e8re et en terre cuite rouge comme mes autres poteries,\nelle \u00e9tait cependant ferme et dure, et aspirait tr\u00e8s bien, ce dont\nj\u2019\u00e9prouvai une excessive satisfaction, car j\u2019avais toujours eu\nl\u2019habitude de fumer. A bord de notre navire il se trouvait bien des\npipes, mais j\u2019avais premi\u00e8rement n\u00e9glig\u00e9 de les prendre, ne sachant\npas qu\u2019il y e\u00fbt du tabac dans l\u2019\u00eele; et plus tard, quand je refouillai\nle b\u00e2timent, je ne pus mettre la main sur aucune.\nJe fis aussi de grands progr\u00e8s en vannerie; je tressai, aussi bien\nque mon invention me le permettait, une multitude de corbeilles\nn\u00e9cessaires, qui, bien qu\u2019elles ne fussent pas fort \u00e9l\u00e9gantes, ne\nlaissaient pas de m\u2019\u00eatre fort commodes pour entreposer bien des choses\net en transporter d\u2019autres \u00e0 la maison. Par exemple, si je tuais au\nloin une ch\u00e8vre, je la suspendais \u00e0 un arbre, je l\u2019\u00e9corchais, je\nl\u2019habillais, et je la coupais en morceaux, que j\u2019apportais au logis\ndans une corbeille; de m\u00eame pour une tortue: je l\u2019ouvrais, je prenais\nses \u0153ufs et une pi\u00e8ce ou deux de sa chair, ce qui \u00e9tait bien suffisant\npour moi, je les emportais dans un panier, et j\u2019abandonnais tout le\nreste. De grandes et profondes corbeilles me servaient de granges pour\nmon bl\u00e9 que j\u2019\u00e9grainais et vannais toujours aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019il \u00e9tait sec,\net de grandes mannes me servaient de grainiers.\nJe commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 m\u2019apercevoir que ma poudre diminuait\nconsid\u00e9rablement: c\u2019\u00e9tait une perte \u00e0 laquelle il m\u2019\u00e9tait impossible\nde suppl\u00e9er; je me mis \u00e0 songer s\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il faudrait que\nje fisse quand je n\u2019en aurais plus, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il faudrait\nque je fisse pour tuer des ch\u00e8vres. J\u2019avais bien, comme je l\u2019ai\nrapport\u00e9, dans la troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon s\u00e9jour, pris une petite\nbique, que j\u2019avais apprivois\u00e9e, dans l\u2019espoir d\u2019attraper un biquet,\nmais je n\u2019y pus parvenir par aucun moyen avant que ma bique fut\ndevenue une vieille ch\u00e8vre. Mon c\u0153ur r\u00e9pugna toujours \u00e0 la tuer; elle\nmourut de vieillesse.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors dans la onzi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de ma r\u00e9sidence, et, comme je l\u2019ai\ndit, mes munitions commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 baisser: je m\u2019appliquai \u00e0 inventer\nquelque stratag\u00e8me pour traquer et empi\u00e9ger des ch\u00e8vres, et pour voir\nsi je ne pourrais pas en attraper quelques-unes vivantes. J\u2019avais\nbesoin par-dessus tout d\u2019une grande bique avec son cabri.\n\u00c0 cet effet, je fis des traquenards pour les happer: elles s\u2019y prirent\nplus d\u2019une fois sans doute; mais, comme les garnitures n\u2019en \u00e9taient\npas bonnes,\u2014je n\u2019avais point de fil d\u2019archal,\u2014je les trouvai toujours\nrompues et mes amorces mang\u00e9es.\nJe r\u00e9solus d\u2019essayer \u00e0 les prendre au moyen d\u2019une trappe. Je creusai\ndonc dans la terre plusieurs grandes fosses dans les endroits o\u00f9\nelles avaient coutume de pa\u00eetre, et sur ces fosses je pla\u00e7ai des\nclaies de ma fa\u00e7on, charg\u00e9es d\u2019un poids \u00e9norme. Plusieurs fois j\u2019y\nsemai des \u00e9pis d\u2019orge et du riz sec sans y pratiquer de bascule, et\nje reconnus ais\u00e9ment par l\u2019empreinte de leurs pieds que les ch\u00e8vres y\n\u00e9taient venues. Finalement, une nuit, je dressai trois trappes, et le\nlendemain matin je les retrouvai toutes tendues, bien que les amorces\nfussent mang\u00e9es. C\u2019\u00e9tait vraiment d\u00e9courageant. N\u00e9anmoins je changeai\nmon syst\u00e8me de trappe; et, pour ne point vous fatiguer par trop de\nd\u00e9tails, un matin, allant visiter mes pi\u00e8ges, je trouvai dans l\u2019un\nd\u2019eux un vieux bouc \u00e9norme, et dans un autre trois chevreaux, un m\u00e2le\net deux femelles.\nQuant au vieux bouc, je n\u2019en savais que faire: il \u00e9tait si farouche\nque je n\u2019osais descendre dans sa fosse pour t\u00e2cher de l\u2019emmener en\nvie, ce que pourtant je d\u00e9sirais beaucoup. J\u2019aurais pu le tuer, mais\ncela n\u2019\u00e9tait point mon affaire et ne r\u00e9pondait point \u00e0 mes vues. Je\nle tirai donc \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 dehors, et il s\u2019enfuit comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fou\nd\u2019\u00e9pouvante. Je ne savais pas alors, ce que j\u2019appris plus tard, que la\nfaim peut apprivoiser m\u00eame un lion. Si je l\u2019avais laiss\u00e9 l\u00e0 trois ou\nquatre jours sans nourriture, et qu\u2019ensuite je lui eusse apport\u00e9 un\npeu d\u2019eau \u00e0 boire et quelque peu de bl\u00e9, il se serait priv\u00e9 comme un\ndes biquets, car ces animaux sont pleins d\u2019intelligence et de docilit\u00e9\nquand on en use bien avec eux.\nQuoi qu\u2019il en soit, je le laissai partir, n\u2019en sachant pas alors\ndavantage. Puis j\u2019allai aux trois chevreaux, et, les prenant un \u00e0 un,\nje les attachai ensemble avec des cordons et les amenai au logis, non\nsans beaucoup de peine.\nIl se passa un temps assez long avant qu\u2019ils voulussent manger; mais\nle bon grain que je leur jetais les tenta, et ils commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 se\nfamiliariser. Je reconnus alors que, pour me nourrir de la viande de\nch\u00e8vre, quand je n\u2019aurais plus ni poudre ni plomb, il me fallait faire\nmultiplier des ch\u00e8vres apprivois\u00e9es, et que par ce moyen je pourrais\nen avoir un troupeau autour de ma maison.\nMais il me vint incontinent \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e que si je ne tenais point mes\nchevreaux hors de l\u2019atteinte des boucs \u00e9trangers, ils redeviendraient\nsauvages en grandissant, et que, pour les pr\u00e9server de ce contact, il\nme fallait avoir un terrain bien d\u00e9fendu par une haie ou palissade,\nque ceux du dedans ne pourraient franchir et que ceux du dehors ne\npourraient forcer.\nL\u2019entreprise \u00e9tait grande pour un seul homme, mais une n\u00e9cessit\u00e9\nabsolue m\u2019enjoignait de l\u2019ex\u00e9cuter. Mon premier soin fut de chercher\nune pi\u00e8ce de terre convenable, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire o\u00f9 il y e\u00fbt de l\u2019herbage\npour leur p\u00e2ture, de l\u2019eau pour les abreuver et de l\u2019ombre pour les\ngarder du soleil.\nCeux qui s\u2019entendent \u00e0 faire ces sortes d\u2019enclos trouveront que ce fut\nune maladresse de choisir pour place convenable, dans une prairie ou\n_savane_,\u2014comme on dit dans nos colonies occidentales,\u2014un lieu plat\net ouvert, ombrag\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019une de ses extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s, et o\u00f9 serpentaient deux\nou trois filets d\u2019eau; ils ne pourront, dis-je, s\u2019emp\u00eacher de sourire\nde ma pr\u00e9voyance quand je leur dirai que je commen\u00e7ai la cl\u00f4ture de\nce terrain de telle mani\u00e8re que ma haie ou ma palissade aurait eu au\nmoins deux milles de circonf\u00e9rence. Ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas en la dimension\nde cette palissade que gisait l\u2019extravagance de mon projet, car elle\naurait eu dix milles que j\u2019avais assez de temps pour la faire, mais en\nce que je n\u2019avais pas consid\u00e9r\u00e9 que mes ch\u00e8vres seraient tout aussi\nsauvages dans un si vaste enclos, que si elles eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 en libert\u00e9\ndans l\u2019\u00eele, et que dans un si grand espace je ne pourrais les attraper.\nMa haie \u00e9tait commenc\u00e9e, et il y en avait bien cinquante verges\nd\u2019achev\u00e9es lorsque cette pens\u00e9e me vint. Je m\u2019arr\u00eatai aussit\u00f4t, et\nje r\u00e9solus de n\u2019enclore que cent cinquante verges en longueur et\ncent verges en largeur, espace suffisant pour contenir tout autant\nde ch\u00e8vres que je pourrais en avoir pendant un temps raisonnable,\n\u00e9tant toujours \u00e0 m\u00eame d\u2019agrandir mon parc suivant que mon troupeau\ns\u2019accro\u00eetrait.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait agir avec prudence, et je me mis \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre avec courage. Je\nfus trois mois environ \u00e0 entourer cette premi\u00e8re pi\u00e8ce. Jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que\nce f\u00fbt achev\u00e9, je fis pa\u00eetre les trois chevreaux, avec des entraves\naux pieds, dans le meilleur pacage et aussi pr\u00e8s de moi que possible,\npour les rendre familiers. Tr\u00e8s souvent je leur portais quelques \u00e9pis\nd\u2019orge et une poign\u00e9e de riz, qu\u2019ils mangeaient dans ma main. Si bien\nqu\u2019apr\u00e8s l\u2019ach\u00e8vement de mon enclos, lorsque je les eus d\u00e9barrass\u00e9s\nde leurs liens, ils me suivaient partout, b\u00ealant apr\u00e8s moi pour avoir\nune poign\u00e9e de grains.\nCeci r\u00e9pondit \u00e0 mon dessein, et au bout d\u2019un an et demi environ j\u2019eus\nun troupeau de douze t\u00eates: boucs, ch\u00e8vres et chevreaux; et deux\nans apr\u00e8s j\u2019en eus quarante-trois, quoique j\u2019en eusse pris et tu\u00e9\nplusieurs pour ma nourriture. J\u2019entourai ensuite cinq autres pi\u00e8ces\nde terre \u00e0 leur usage, y pratiquant de petits parcs o\u00f9 je les faisais\nentrer pour les prendre quand j\u2019en avais besoin, et des portes pour\ncommuniquer d\u2019un enclos \u00e0 l\u2019autre.\nCe ne fut pas tout; car alors j\u2019eus \u00e0 manger quand bon me semblait,\nnon seulement la viande de mes ch\u00e8vres, mais leur lait, chose\n\u00e0 laquelle je n\u2019avais pas song\u00e9 dans le commencement, et qui,\nlorsqu\u2019elle me vint \u00e0 l\u2019esprit, me causa une joie vraiment inopin\u00e9e.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tablis aussit\u00f4t ma laiterie, et quelquefois en une journ\u00e9e j\u2019obtins\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 deux gallons de lait. La nature, qui donne aux cr\u00e9atures\nles aliments qui leur sont n\u00e9cessaires, leur sugg\u00e8re en m\u00eame temps\nles moyens d\u2019en faire usage. Ainsi, moi, qui n\u2019avais jamais trait\nune vache, encore moins une ch\u00e8vre, qui n\u2019avais jamais vu faire ni\nbeurre ni fromage, je parvins, apr\u00e8s, il est vrai, beaucoup d\u2019essais\ninfructueux, \u00e0 faire tr\u00e8s promptement et tr\u00e8s adroitement et du beurre\net du fromage, et depuis je n\u2019en eus jamais faute.\nQue notre sublime Cr\u00e9ateur peut traiter mis\u00e9ricordieusement ses\ncr\u00e9atures, m\u00eame dans ces conditions o\u00f9 elles semblent \u00eatre plong\u00e9es\ndans la d\u00e9solation! Qu\u2019il sait adoucir nos plus grandes amertumes,\net nous donner occasion de le glorifier du fond m\u00eame de nos cachots!\nQuelle table il m\u2019avait dress\u00e9e dans le d\u00e9sert, o\u00f9 je n\u2019avais d\u2019abord\nentrevu que la faim et la mort!\nUn sto\u00efcien e\u00fbt souri de me voir assis \u00e0 d\u00eener au milieu de ma petite\nfamille. L\u00e0, r\u00e9gnait ma Majest\u00e9 le Prince et Seigneur de toute\nl\u2019\u00eele:\u2014j\u2019avais droit de vie et de mort sur tous mes sujets; je pouvais\nles pendre, les d\u00e9pecer leur donner et leur reprendre leur libert\u00e9.\nPoint de rebelles parmi mes peuples!\nSeul, ainsi qu\u2019un roi, je d\u00eenais entour\u00e9 de mes courtisans! POLL,\ncomme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 mon favori, avait seul la permission de me parler;\nmon chien, qui \u00e9tait alors devenu vieux et infirme, et qui n\u2019avait\npoint trouv\u00e9 de compagne de son esp\u00e8ce pour multiplier sa race, \u00e9tait\ntoujours assis \u00e0 ma droite; mes deux chats \u00e9taient sur la table, l\u2019un\nd\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 et l\u2019autre de l\u2019autre, attendant le morceau que de temps en\ntemps ma main leur donnait comme une marque de faveur sp\u00e9ciale.\n[Illustration: Ainsi qu\u2019un roi, je d\u00eenais entour\u00e9 de mes courtisans.]\nCes deux chats n\u2019\u00e9taient pas ceux que j\u2019avais apport\u00e9s du navire: ils\n\u00e9taient morts et avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 enterr\u00e9s de mes propres mains proche\nde mon habitation; mais l\u2019un deux ayant eu des petits de je ne sais\nquelle esp\u00e8ce d\u2019animal, j\u2019avais apprivois\u00e9 et conserv\u00e9 ces deux-l\u00e0,\ntandis que les autres couraient sauvages dans les bois et par la\nsuite me devinrent fort incommodes. Ils s\u2019introduisaient souvent chez\nmoi et me pillaient tellement, que je fus oblig\u00e9 de tirer sur eux et\nd\u2019en exterminer un grand nombre. Enfin ils m\u2019abandonn\u00e8rent, moi et ma\ncour, au milieu de laquelle je vivais de cette mani\u00e8re somptueuse, ne\nd\u00e9sirant rien qu\u2019un peu plus de soci\u00e9t\u00e9: peu de temps apr\u00e8s ceci, je\nfus sur le point d\u2019en avoir beaucoup trop.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais assez impatient, comme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait observer, d\u2019avoir ma\npirogue \u00e0 mon service, mais je ne me souciais pas de courir de nouveau\nle hasard; c\u2019est pour cela que quelquefois je m\u2019ing\u00e9niais pour trouver\nmoyen de lui faire faire le tour de l\u2019\u00eele, et que d\u2019autres fois je me\nr\u00e9signais assez bien \u00e0 m\u2019en passer. Mais j\u2019avais une \u00e9trange envie\nd\u2019aller \u00e0 la pointe o\u00f9, dans ma derni\u00e8re course, j\u2019avais gravi une\ncolline, pour reconna\u00eetre la c\u00f4te et la direction du courant, afin de\nvoir ce que j\u2019avais \u00e0 faire. Ce d\u00e9sir augmentait de jour en jour; je\nr\u00e9solus enfin de m\u2019y rendre par terre en suivant le long du rivage:\nce que je fis.\u2014Si quelqu\u2019un venait \u00e0 rencontrer en Angleterre un\nhomme tel que j\u2019\u00e9tais, il serait \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 ou il se p\u00e2merait de rire.\nSouvent je m\u2019arr\u00eatais pour me contempler moi-m\u00eame, et je ne pouvais\nm\u2019emp\u00eacher de sourire \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e de traverser le Yorkshire dans un\npareil \u00e9quipage. Par l\u2019esquisse suivante on peut se former une id\u00e9e de\nma figure.\nJ\u2019avais un bonnet grand, haut, informe et fait de peau de ch\u00e8vre, avec\nune basque tombant derri\u00e8re pour me garantir du soleil et emp\u00eacher\nla pluie de me ruisseler dans le cou. Rien n\u2019est plus dangereux en\nces climats que de laisser p\u00e9n\u00e9trer la pluie entre sa chair et ses\nv\u00eatements.\nJ\u2019avais une jaquette courte, \u00e9galement de peau de ch\u00e8vre, dont les\npans descendaient \u00e0 mi-cuisse, et une paire de hauts-de-chausses\nouverts aux genoux. Ces hauts-de-chausses \u00e9taient faits de la peau\nd\u2019un vieux bouc dont le poil pendait si bas de tous c\u00f4t\u00e9s, qu\u2019ils me\nvenaient, comme un pantalon, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 mi-jambe. De bas et de souliers\nje n\u2019en avais point; mais je m\u2019\u00e9tais fait une paire de quelque chose,\nje sais \u00e0 peine quel nom lui donner, assez semblable \u00e0 des brodequins,\ncollant \u00e0 mes jambes et se la\u00e7ant sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 comme des gu\u00eatres:\nc\u2019\u00e9tait, de m\u00eame que tout le reste de mes v\u00eatements, d\u2019une forme\nvraiment barbare.\nJ\u2019avais un large ceinturon de peau de ch\u00e8vre dess\u00e9ch\u00e9e, qui\ns\u2019attachait avec deux courroies au lieu de boucles; en guise d\u2019\u00e9p\u00e9e et\nde dague j\u2019y appendais d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 une petite scie et de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9\nune hache. J\u2019avais en outre un baudrier qui s\u2019attachait de la m\u00eame\nmani\u00e8re et passait par-dessus mon \u00e9paule. A son extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, sous mon\nbras gauche, pendaient deux poches faites aussi de peau de ch\u00e8vre:\ndans l\u2019une je mettais ma poudre et dans l\u2019autre mon plomb. Sur mon\ndos je portais une corbeille, sur mon \u00e9paule un mousquet, et sur ma\nt\u00eate mon grand vilain parasol de peau de bouc, qui pourtant, apr\u00e8s mon\nfusil, \u00e9tait la chose la plus n\u00e9cessaire de mon \u00e9quipage.\nQuant \u00e0 mon visage, son teint n\u2019\u00e9tait vraiment pas aussi h\u00e2l\u00e9 qu\u2019on\nl\u2019aurait pu croire d\u2019un homme qui n\u2019en prenait aucun soin et qui\nvivait \u00e0 neuf ou dix degr\u00e9s de l\u2019\u00e9quateur. J\u2019avais d\u2019abord laiss\u00e9\ncro\u00eetre ma barbe jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la longueur d\u2019un quart d\u2019aune; mais, comme\nj\u2019avais des ciseaux et des rasoirs, je la coupais alors assez\ncourte, except\u00e9 celle qui poussait sur ma l\u00e8vre sup\u00e9rieure, et que\nj\u2019avais arrang\u00e9e en mani\u00e8re de grosses moustaches \u00e0 la mahom\u00e9tane,\ntelles qu\u2019\u00e0 Sall\u00e9 j\u2019en avais vu \u00e0 quelques Turcs; car, bien que les\nTurcs en aient, les Maures n\u2019en portent point. Je ne dirai pas que\nces moustaches ou ces crocs \u00e9taient assez longs pour y suspendre\nmon chapeau, mais ils \u00e9taient d\u2019une longueur et d\u2019une forme assez\nmonstrueuses pour qu\u2019en Angleterre ils eussent paru effroyables.\nMais que tout ceci soit dit en passant, car ma tenue devait \u00eatre si\npeu remarqu\u00e9e, qu\u2019elle n\u2019\u00e9tait pas pour moi une chose importante: je\nn\u2019y reviendrai plus. Dans cet accoutrement, je partis donc pour mon\nnouveau voyage, qui me retint absent cinq ou six jours. Je marchai\nd\u2019abord le long du rivage de la mer, droit vers le lieu o\u00f9 la premi\u00e8re\nfois j\u2019avais mis ma pirogue \u00e0 l\u2019ancre pour grimper sur les roches.\nN\u2019ayant pas, comme alors, de barque \u00e0 mettre en s\u00fbret\u00e9, je me rendis\npar le plus court chemin sur la m\u00eame colline; d\u2019o\u00f9, jetant mes regards\nvers la pointe de rochers que j\u2019avais eue \u00e0 doubler avec ma pirogue,\ncomme je l\u2019ai narr\u00e9 plus haut, je fus surpris de voir la mer tout \u00e0\nfait calme et douce; l\u00e0 comme en toute autre place point de clapotage,\npoint de mouvement, point de courant.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9trangement embarrass\u00e9 pour m\u2019expliquer ce changement, et\nje r\u00e9solus de demeurer quelque temps en observation pour voir s\u2019il\nn\u2019\u00e9tait point occasionn\u00e9 par la mar\u00e9e. Je ne tardai pas \u00e0 \u00eatre au\nfait, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre que le reflux, partant de l\u2019ouest et\nse joignant au cours des eaux de quelque grand fleuve, devait \u00eatre\nla cause de ce courant; et que, selon la force du vent qui soufflait\nde l\u2019ouest ou du nord, il s\u2019approchait ou s\u2019\u00e9loignait du rivage. Je\nrestai aux aguets jusqu\u2019au soir, et lorsque le reflux arriva, du haut\ndes rochers je revis le courant comme la premi\u00e8re fois, mais il se\ntenait \u00e0 une demi-lieue de la pointe; tandis qu\u2019en ma m\u00e9saventure il\ns\u2019\u00e9tait tellement approch\u00e9 du bord qu\u2019il m\u2019avait entra\u00een\u00e9 avec lui, ce\nqu\u2019en ce moment il n\u2019aurait pu faire.\nJe conclus de cette observation qu\u2019en remarquant le temps du flot\net du jusant de la mar\u00e9e, il me serait tr\u00e8s ais\u00e9 de ramener mon\nembarcation. Mais quand je voulus entamer ce dessein, mon esprit fut\npris de terreur au souvenir du p\u00e9ril que j\u2019avais essuy\u00e9, et je ne pus\nme d\u00e9cider \u00e0 l\u2019entreprendre. Bien au contraire, je pris la r\u00e9solution,\nplus s\u00fbre mais plus laborieuse, de me construire ou plut\u00f4t de me\ncreuser une autre pirogue, et d\u2019en avoir ainsi une pour chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 de\nl\u2019\u00eele.\nVous n\u2019ignorez pas que j\u2019avais alors, si je puis m\u2019exprimer ainsi,\ndeux plantations dans l\u2019\u00eele: l\u2019une \u00e9tait ma petite forteresse ou\nma tente, entour\u00e9e de sa muraille au pied du rocher, avec son\narri\u00e8re-grotte, que j\u2019avais en ce temps-l\u00e0 agrandie de plusieurs\nchambres donnant l\u2019une dans l\u2019autre. Dans l\u2019une d\u2019elles, celle qui\n\u00e9tait la moins humide et la plus grande, et qui avait une porte en\ndehors de mon retranchement, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire un peu au del\u00e0 de l\u2019endroit\no\u00f9 il rejoignait le rocher, je tenais les grands pots de terre dont\nj\u2019ai parl\u00e9 avec d\u00e9tail, et quatorze ou quinze grandes corbeilles de la\ncontenance de cinq ou six boisseaux, o\u00f9 je conservais mes provisions,\nsurtout mon bl\u00e9, soit \u00e9grain\u00e9, soit en \u00e9pis s\u00e9par\u00e9s de la paille.\nPour ce qui est de mon enceinte, les longs pieux ou palis dont elle\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 faite autrefois avaient cr\u00fb comme des arbres et \u00e9taient\ndevenus si gros et si touffus qu\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible de s\u2019apercevoir\nqu\u2019ils masquaient une habitation.\nPr\u00e8s de cette demeure, mais un peu plus avant dans le pays et dans un\nterrain moins \u00e9lev\u00e9, j\u2019avais deux pi\u00e8ces \u00e0 bl\u00e9, que je cultivais et\nensemen\u00e7ais r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement, et qui me rendaient exactement leur moisson\nen saison opportune. Si j\u2019avais eu besoin d\u2019une plus grande quantit\u00e9\nde grains, j\u2019avais d\u2019autres terres adjacentes propres \u00e0 \u00eatre emblav\u00e9es.\nOutre cela, j\u2019avais ma maison de campagne qui pour lors \u00e9tait une\nassez belle plantation. L\u00e0 se trouvait ma tonnelle, que j\u2019entretenais\navec soin, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que je tenais la haie qui l\u2019entourait\nconstamment \u00e9mond\u00e9e \u00e0 la m\u00eame hauteur, et son \u00e9chelle toujours post\u00e9e\nen son lieu, sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 int\u00e9rieur de l\u2019enceinte. Pour les arbres, qui\nd\u2019abord n\u2019avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 que des pieux, mais qui \u00e9taient devenus hauts\net forts, je les entretenais et les \u00e9laguais de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils\npussent s\u2019\u00e9tendre, cro\u00eetre \u00e9pais et touffus, et former un agr\u00e9able\nombrage, ce qu\u2019ils faisaient tout \u00e0 fait \u00e0 mon gr\u00e9. Au milieu de cette\ntonnelle, ma tente demeurait toujours dress\u00e9e; c\u2019\u00e9tait une pi\u00e8ce de\nvoile tendue sur des perches plant\u00e9es tout expr\u00e8s, et qui n\u2019avaient\njamais besoin d\u2019\u00eatre r\u00e9par\u00e9es ou renouvel\u00e9es. Sous cette tente je\nm\u2019\u00e9tais fait un lit de repos avec les peaux de tous les animaux que\nj\u2019avais tu\u00e9s, et avec d\u2019autres choses molles sur lesquelles j\u2019avais\n\u00e9tendu une couverture provenant des strapontins que j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9s\ndu vaisseau, et une grande houppelande qui servait \u00e0 me couvrir.\nVoil\u00e0 donc la maison de campagne o\u00f9 je me rendais toutes les fois que\nj\u2019avais occasion de m\u2019absenter de mon principal manoir.\n[Illustration: Outre cela, j\u2019avais ma maison de campagne.]\nAdjacent \u00e0 ceci j\u2019avais mon parc pour mon b\u00e9tail, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\npour mes ch\u00e8vres. Comme j\u2019avais pris une peine inconcevable pour\nl\u2019enceindre et le prot\u00e9ger, d\u00e9sireux de voir sa cl\u00f4ture parfaite, je\nne m\u2019\u00e9tais arr\u00eat\u00e9 qu\u2019apr\u00e8s avoir garni le c\u00f4t\u00e9 ext\u00e9rieur de la haie de\ntant de petits pieux plant\u00e9s si pr\u00e8s l\u2019un de l\u2019autre, que c\u2019\u00e9tait plus\nune palissade qu\u2019une haie, et qu\u2019\u00e0 peine y pouvait-on passer la main.\nCes pieux, ayant pouss\u00e9 d\u00e8s la saison pluvieuse qui suivit, avaient\nrendu avec le temps cette cl\u00f4ture aussi forte, plus forte m\u00eame que la\nmeilleure muraille.\nCes travaux t\u00e9moignent que je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas oisif et que je n\u2019\u00e9pargnais\npas mes peines pour accomplir tout ce qui semblait n\u00e9cessaire \u00e0 mon\nbien-\u00eatre; car je consid\u00e9rais que l\u2019entretien d\u2019une race d\u2019animaux\ndomestiques \u00e0 ma disposition m\u2019assurerait un magasin vivant, de\nviande, de lait, de beurre et de fromage pour tout le temps que je\nserais en ce lieu, duss\u00e9-je y vivre pendant quarante ans, et que la\nconservation de cette race d\u00e9pendait enti\u00e8rement de la perfection\nde mes cl\u00f4tures, qui, somme toute, me r\u00e9ussirent si bien, que d\u00e8s\nla premi\u00e8re pousse des petits pieux je fus oblig\u00e9, tant ils \u00e9taient\nplant\u00e9s dru, d\u2019en arracher quelques-uns.\nDans ce canton croissaient aussi les vignes d\u2019o\u00f9 je tirais pour\nl\u2019hiver ma principale provision de raisins, que je conservais toujours\navec beaucoup de soin, comme le meilleur et le plus d\u00e9licat de tous\nmes aliments. C\u2019\u00e9tait un manger non seulement agr\u00e9able, mais sain,\nm\u00e9dicinal, nutritif et rafra\u00eechissant au plus haut degr\u00e9.\nComme d\u2019ailleurs cet endroit se trouvait \u00e0 mi-chemin de mon autre\nhabitation et du lieu o\u00f9 j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9 ma pirogue, je m\u2019y arr\u00eatais\nhabituellement, et j\u2019y couchais dans mes courses de l\u2019un \u00e0 l\u2019autre;\ncar je visitais fr\u00e9quemment mon embarcation, dont je prenais le plus\ngrand soin, ainsi que de tout ce qui en d\u00e9pendait. Quelquefois je la\nmontais et je voguais pour me divertir, mais je ne faisais plus de\nvoyages aventureux; \u00e0 peine allais-je \u00e0 plus d\u2019un ou deux jets de\npierre du rivage, tant je redoutais d\u2019\u00eatre entra\u00een\u00e9 de nouveau par des\ncourants, le vent ou quelque autre malencontre.\u2014Mais me voici arriv\u00e9e\nune nouvelle sc\u00e8ne de ma vie.\nIl advint qu\u2019un jour, vers midi, comme j\u2019allais \u00e0 ma pirogue, je fus\nexcessivement surpris en d\u00e9couvrant le vestige humain d\u2019un pied nu\nparfaitement empreint sur le sable. Je m\u2019arr\u00eatai court, comme frapp\u00e9\nde la foudre, ou comme si j\u2019eusse entrevu un fant\u00f4me. J\u2019\u00e9coutai, je\nregardai autour de moi, mais je n\u2019entendis rien ni ne vis rien. Je\nmontai sur un tertre pour jeter au loin mes regards, puis je revins\nsur le rivage et descendis jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la rive. Elle \u00e9tait solitaire, et\nje ne pus rencontrer aucun autre vestige que celui-l\u00e0. J\u2019y retournai\nencore pour m\u2019assurer s\u2019il n\u2019y en avait pas quelque autre, ou si ce\nn\u2019\u00e9tait point une illusion; mais non, le doute n\u2019\u00e9tait point possible:\ncar c\u2019\u00e9tait bien l\u2019empreinte d\u2019un pied, l\u2019orteil, le talon, enfin\ntoutes les parties d\u2019un pied. Comment cela \u00e9tait-il venu l\u00e0? je ne le\nsavais ni ne pouvais l\u2019imaginer. Apr\u00e8s mille pens\u00e9es d\u00e9sordonn\u00e9es,\ncomme un homme confondu, \u00e9gar\u00e9, je m\u2019enfuis \u00e0 ma forteresse, ne\nsentant pas, comme on dit, la terre o\u00f9 je marchais. Horriblement\n\u00e9pouvant\u00e9, je regardais derri\u00e8re moi tous les deux ou trois pas, me\nm\u00e9prenant \u00e0 chaque arbre, \u00e0 chaque buisson, et transformant en homme\nchaque tronc dans l\u2019\u00e9loignement.\u2014Il n\u2019est pas possible de d\u00e9crire les\nformes diverses dont une imagination frapp\u00e9e rev\u00eat tous les objets.\nCombien d\u2019id\u00e9es extravagantes me vinrent \u00e0 la t\u00eate! Que d\u2019\u00e9tranges et\nd\u2019absurdes bizarreries assaillirent mon esprit durant le chemin!\n[Illustration: Je m\u2019arr\u00eatai court, comme frapp\u00e9 de la foudre.]\nQuand j\u2019arrivai \u00e0 mon ch\u00e2teau, car c\u2019est ainsi que je le nommai\ntoujours depuis lors, je m\u2019y jetai comme un homme poursuivi. Y\nrentrai-je d\u2019embl\u00e9e par l\u2019\u00e9chelle ou par l\u2019ouverture dans le roc que\nj\u2019appelais une porte, je ne puis me le rem\u00e9morer, car jamais li\u00e8vre\neffray\u00e9 ne se cacha, car jamais renard ne se terra avec plus d\u2019effroi\nque moi dans cette retraite.\nJe ne pus dormir de la nuit. A mesure que je m\u2019\u00e9loignais de la cause\nde ma terreur, mes craintes augmentaient, contrairement \u00e0 toute loi\ndes choses et surtout \u00e0 la marche ordinaire de la peur chez les\nanimaux. J\u2019\u00e9tais toujours si troubl\u00e9 de mes propres imaginations que\nje n\u2019entrevoyais rien que de sinistre. Quelquefois je me figurais\nqu\u2019il fallait que ce f\u00fbt le diable, et j\u2019appuyais cette supposition\nsur ce raisonnement: Comment quelque autre chose ayant forme humaine\naurait-elle pu parvenir en cet endroit? O\u00f9 \u00e9tait le vaisseau qui\nl\u2019aurait amen\u00e9e? Quelle trace y avait-il de quelque autre pas? et\ncomment \u00e9tait-il possible qu\u2019un homme f\u00fbt venu l\u00e0? Mais d\u2019un autre\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 je retombais dans le m\u00eame embarras quand je me demandais pourquoi\nSatan se serait incarn\u00e9 en un semblable lieu, sans autre but que celui\nde laisser une empreinte de son pied, ce qui m\u00eame n\u2019\u00e9tait pas un\nbut, car il ne pouvait avoir l\u2019assurance que je la rencontrerais. Je\nconsid\u00e9rai d\u2019ailleurs que le diable aurait eu pour m\u2019\u00e9pouvanter bien\nd\u2019autres moyens que la simple marque de son pied; et que, lorsque je\nvivais tout \u00e0 fait de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, il n\u2019aurait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 assez\nsimple pour laisser un vestige dans un lieu o\u00f9 il y avait dix mille \u00e0\nparier contre un que je ne le verrais pas, et, qui plus est, sur du\nsable o\u00f9 la premi\u00e8re vague de la mer et la premi\u00e8re rafale pouvaient\nl\u2019effacer totalement. En un mot, tout cela me semblait contradictoire\nen soi, et avec toutes les id\u00e9es commun\u00e9ment admises sur la subtilit\u00e9\ndu d\u00e9mon.\nQuantit\u00e9 de raisons semblables d\u00e9tourn\u00e8rent mon esprit de toute\nappr\u00e9hension du diable, et je conclus que ce devaient \u00eatre de plus\ndangereuses cr\u00e9atures, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire des sauvages de la terre ferme\nsitu\u00e9e \u00e0 l\u2019opposite, qui, r\u00f4dant en mer dans leurs pirogues, avaient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 entra\u00een\u00e9s par les courants ou les vents contraires, et jet\u00e9s sur\nmon \u00eele; d\u2019o\u00f9, apr\u00e8s \u00eatre descendus au rivage, ils \u00e9taient repartis,\nne se souciant sans doute pas plus de rester sur cette \u00eele d\u00e9serte que\nje ne me serais souci\u00e9 moi-m\u00eame de les y avoir.\nCHAPITRE IV\n     Pr\u00e9cautions.\u2014Horrible d\u00e9couverte.\u2014Plan contre les\n     sauvages.\u2014Terrass\u00e9 par la peur.\u2014La caverne.\u2014Nouvelles transes.\u2014Le\n     fanal.\u2014Visite au vaisseau naufrag\u00e9.\u2014Nouveaux projets.\u2014Le\n     guet.\u2014Combat avec les sauvages.\nPendant que ces r\u00e9flexions roulaient en mon esprit, je rendais gr\u00e2ce\nau ciel de ce que j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 assez heureux pour ne pas me trouver\nalors dans ces environs, et pour qu\u2019ils n\u2019eussent pas aper\u00e7u mon\nembarcation; car ils en auraient certainement conclu qu\u2019il y avait\ndes habitants en cette place, ce qui peut-\u00eatre aurait pu les porter\n\u00e0 pousser leurs recherches jusqu\u2019\u00e0 moi.\u2014Puis de terribles pens\u00e9es\nassaillaient mon esprit: j\u2019imaginais qu\u2019ayant d\u00e9couvert mon bateau et\nreconnu par l\u00e0 que l\u2019\u00eele \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e, ils reviendraient assur\u00e9ment\nen plus grand nombre, et me d\u00e9voreraient; que, s\u2019il advenait que\nje pusse me garer d\u2019eux, toutefois ils trouveraient mon enclos,\nd\u00e9truiraient tout mon bl\u00e9, emm\u00e8neraient tout mon troupeau de ch\u00e8vres:\nce qui me condamnerait \u00e0 mourir de faim.\nLa crainte bannissait ainsi de mon \u00e2me tout mon religieux espoir,\ntoute ma premi\u00e8re confiance en Dieu, fond\u00e9e sur la merveilleuse\nexp\u00e9rience que j\u2019avais faite de sa bont\u00e9; comme si Celui qui, jusqu\u2019\u00e0\ncette heure, m\u2019avait nourri miraculeusement n\u2019avait pas la puissance\nde me conserver les biens que sa lib\u00e9ralit\u00e9 avait amass\u00e9s pour moi.\nDans cette inqui\u00e9tude, je me reprochai de n\u2019avoir sem\u00e9 du bl\u00e9 que pour\nun an, que juste ce dont j\u2019avais besoin jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la saison prochaine,\ncomme s\u2019il ne pouvait point arriver un accident qui d\u00e9truis\u00eet ma\nmoisson en herbe; et je trouvai ce reproche si m\u00e9rit\u00e9 que je r\u00e9solus\nd\u2019avoir \u00e0 l\u2019avenir deux ou trois ann\u00e9es de bl\u00e9 devant moi, pour n\u2019\u00eatre\npas, quoiqu\u2019il p\u00fbt advenir, r\u00e9duit \u00e0 p\u00e9rir faute de pain.\nQuelle \u0153uvre \u00e9trange et bizarre de la Providence que la vie de\nl\u2019homme! Par combien de voies secr\u00e8tes et contraires les circonstances\ndiverses ne pr\u00e9cipitent-elles pas nos affections! Aujourd\u2019hui nous\naimons ce que demain nous ha\u00efrons; aujourd\u2019hui nous recherchons ce\nque nous fuirons demain; aujourd\u2019hui nous d\u00e9sirons ce qui demain nous\nfera peur, je dirai m\u00eame trembler \u00e0 la seule appr\u00e9hension! J\u2019\u00e9tais\nalors un vivant et manifeste exemple de cette v\u00e9rit\u00e9; car moi, dont\nla seule affliction \u00e9tait de me voir banni de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 humaine,\nseul, entour\u00e9 par le vaste Oc\u00e9an, retranch\u00e9 de l\u2019humanit\u00e9 et condamn\u00e9\n\u00e0 ce que j\u2019appelais une vie silencieuse; moi qui \u00e9tais un homme que\nle ciel jugeait indigne d\u2019\u00eatre compt\u00e9 parmi les vivants et de figurer\nparmi le reste de ses cr\u00e9atures; moi pour qui la vue d\u2019un \u00eatre de\nmon esp\u00e8ce aurait sembl\u00e9 un retour de la mort \u00e0 la vie, et la plus\ngrande b\u00e9n\u00e9diction qu\u2019apr\u00e8s ma f\u00e9licit\u00e9 \u00e9ternelle le ciel lui-m\u00eame\np\u00fbt m\u2019accorder; moi, dis-je, je tremblais \u00e0 la seule id\u00e9e de voir un\nhomme, et j\u2019\u00e9tais pr\u00e8s de m\u2019enfoncer sous terre \u00e0 cette ombre, \u00e0 cette\napparence muette qu\u2019un homme avait mis le pied dans l\u2019\u00eele!\nVoil\u00e0 les vicissitudes de la vie humaine, voil\u00e0 ce qui me donna de\nnombreux et de curieux sujets de m\u00e9ditation quand je fus un peu revenu\nde ma premi\u00e8re stupeur.\u2014Je consid\u00e9rai alors que c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u2019infiniment\nsage et bonne providence de Dieu qui m\u2019avait condamn\u00e9 \u00e0 cet \u00e9tat de\nvie; qu\u2019incapable de p\u00e9n\u00e9trer les desseins de la sagesse divine \u00e0 mon\n\u00e9gard, je ne pouvais pas d\u00e9cliner la souverainet\u00e9 d\u2019un \u00catre qui, comme\nmon Cr\u00e9ateur, avait le droit incontestable et absolu de disposer de\nmoi \u00e0 son bon plaisir, et qui pareillement avait le pouvoir judiciaire\nde me condamner, moi, sa cr\u00e9ature, qui l\u2019avais offens\u00e9, au ch\u00e2timent\nqu\u2019il jugeait convenable; et que je devais me r\u00e9signer \u00e0 supporter sa\ncol\u00e8re, puisque j\u2019avais p\u00e9ch\u00e9 contre lui.\nPuis je fis r\u00e9flexion que Dieu, non seulement \u00e9quitable, mais\ntout-puissant, pouvait me d\u00e9livrer de m\u00eame qu\u2019il m\u2019avait puni et\nafflig\u00e9 quand il l\u2019avait jug\u00e9 convenable, et que, s\u2019il ne jugeait\npas utile de le faire, mon devoir \u00e9tait de me r\u00e9signer enti\u00e8rement\net absolument \u00e0 sa volont\u00e9. D\u2019ailleurs, il \u00e9tait aussi de mon devoir\nd\u2019esp\u00e9rer en lui, de l\u2019implorer, et de me laisser aller tranquillement\naux mouvements et aux inspirations de sa providence de chaque jour.\nCes pens\u00e9es m\u2019occup\u00e8rent des heures, des jours, je puis dire m\u00eame\ndes semaines et des mois, et je n\u2019en saurais omettre cet effet\nparticulier: un matin, de tr\u00e8s bonne heure, \u00e9tant couch\u00e9 dans mon\nlit, l\u2019\u00e2me pr\u00e9occup\u00e9e de la dangereuse apparition des sauvages, je me\ntrouvais dans un profond abattement, quand tout \u00e0 coup me revinrent en\nl\u2019esprit ces paroles de la Sainte \u00c9criture:\u2014\u00abINVOQUE-MOI AU JOUR DE\nTON AFFLICTION, ET JE TE D\u00c9LIVRERAI, ET TU ME GLORIFIERAS.\u00bb\nL\u00e0-dessus je me levai, non seulement le c\u0153ur empli de joie et de\ncourage, mais port\u00e9 \u00e0 prier Dieu avec ferveur pour ma d\u00e9livrance.\nLorsque j\u2019eus achev\u00e9 ma pri\u00e8re, je pris ma Bible, et, en l\u2019ouvrant,\nle premier passage qui s\u2019offrit \u00e0 ma vue fut celui-ci:\u2014\u00abSERS LE\nSEIGNEUR, ET AIE BON COURAGE, ET IL FORTIFIERA TON C\u0152UR; SERS, DIS-JE,\nLE SEIGNEUR.\u00bb\u2014Il serait impossible d\u2019exprimer combien ces paroles me\nr\u00e9confort\u00e8rent. Plein de reconnaissance, je posai le livre, et je ne\nfus plus triste au moins \u00e0 ce sujet.\nAu milieu de ces pens\u00e9es, de ces appr\u00e9hensions et de ces m\u00e9ditations,\nil me vint un jour en l\u2019esprit que je m\u2019\u00e9tais cr\u00e9\u00e9 des chim\u00e8res,\net que le vestige de ce pas pouvait bien \u00eatre une empreinte faite\nsur le rivage par mon propre pied en me rendant \u00e0 ma pirogue. Cette\nid\u00e9e contribua aussi \u00e0 me ranimer: je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me persuader que\nce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019une illusion, et que ce pas \u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement le mien.\nN\u2019avais-je pas pu prendre ce chemin, soit en allant \u00e0 ma pirogue, soit\nen revenant? D\u2019ailleurs je reconnus qu\u2019il me serait impossible de me\nrappeler si cette route \u00e9tait ou n\u2019\u00e9tait pas celle que j\u2019avais prise;\net je compris que, si cette marque \u00e9tait bien celle de mon pied,\nj\u2019avais jou\u00e9 le r\u00f4le de ces fous qui s\u2019\u00e9vertuent \u00e0 faire des histoires\nde spectres et d\u2019apparitions dont ils finissent eux-m\u00eames par \u00eatre\nplus effray\u00e9s que tout autre.\nJe repris donc courage, et je regardai dehors en tapinois. N\u2019\u00e9tant pas\nsorti de mon ch\u00e2teau depuis trois jours et trois nuits, je commen\u00e7ais\n\u00e0 languir de besoin: je n\u2019avais plus chez moi que quelques biscuits\nd\u2019orge et de l\u2019eau. Je songeai alors que mes ch\u00e8vres avaient grand\nbesoin d\u2019\u00eatre traites,\u2014ce qui \u00e9tait ordinairement ma r\u00e9cr\u00e9ation du\nsoir,\u2014et que les pauvres b\u00eates devaient avoir bien souffert de cet\nabandon. Au fait, quelques-unes s\u2019en trouv\u00e8rent fort incommod\u00e9es: leur\nlait avait tari.\n[Illustration: Mes ch\u00e8vres avaient grand besoin d\u2019\u00eatre traites.]\nRaffermi par la croyance que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait rien que le vestige de l\u2019un\nde mes propres pieds,\u2014je pouvais donc dire avec v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que j\u2019avais\neu peur de mon ombre,\u2014je me risquai \u00e0 sortir et j\u2019allai \u00e0 ma maison\ndes champs pour traire mon troupeau; mais, \u00e0 voir avec quelle peur\nj\u2019avan\u00e7ais, regardant souvent derri\u00e8re moi, pr\u00eat \u00e0 chaque instant \u00e0\nlaisser l\u00e0 ma corbeille et \u00e0 m\u2019enfuir pour sauver ma vie, on m\u2019aurait\npris pour un homme troubl\u00e9 par une mauvaise conscience, ou sous le\ncoup d\u2019un horrible effroi: ce qui, au fait, \u00e9tait vrai.\nToutefois, ayant fait ainsi cette course pendant deux ou trois\njours, je m\u2019enhardis et me confirmai dans le sentiment que j\u2019avais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 dupe de mon imagination. Je ne pouvais cependant me le persuader\ncompl\u00e8tement avant de retourner au rivage, avant de revoir l\u2019empreinte\nde ce pas, de le mesurer avec le mien, de m\u2019assurer s\u2019il avait quelque\nsimilitude ou quelque conformit\u00e9, afin que je pusse \u00eatre convaincu\nque c\u2019\u00e9tait bien l\u00e0 mon pied. Mais quand j\u2019arrivai au lieu m\u00eame, je\nreconnus qu\u2019\u00e9videmment, lorsque j\u2019avais abrit\u00e9 ma pirogue, je n\u2019avais\npu passer par l\u00e0 ni aux environs. Bien plus, lorsque j\u2019en vins \u00e0\nmesurer la marque, je trouvai qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait de beaucoup plus large\nque mon pied. Ce double d\u00e9sappointement remplit ma t\u00eate de nouvelles\nimaginations et mon c\u0153ur de la plus profonde m\u00e9lancolie. Un frisson\nme saisit comme si j\u2019eusse eu la fi\u00e8vre, et je m\u2019en retournai chez\nmoi, plein de l\u2019id\u00e9e qu\u2019un homme ou des hommes \u00e9taient descendus sur\nce rivage, ou que l\u2019\u00eele \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e, et que je pouvais \u00eatre pris \u00e0\nl\u2019improviste. Mais que faire pour ma s\u00e9curit\u00e9? Je ne savais.\nOh! quelles absurdes r\u00e9solutions prend un homme quand il est poss\u00e9d\u00e9\nde la peur! Elle lui \u00f4te l\u2019usage des moyens de salut que lui offre la\nraison. La premi\u00e8re chose que je me proposai fut de jeter \u00e0 bas mes\ncl\u00f4tures, de rendre \u00e0 la vie sauvage des bois mon b\u00e9tail apprivois\u00e9,\nde peur que l\u2019ennemi, venant \u00e0 le d\u00e9couvrir, ne se pr\u00eet \u00e0 fr\u00e9quenter\nl\u2019\u00eele, dans l\u2019espoir de trouver un semblable butin. Il va sans dire\nqu\u2019apr\u00e8s cela je devais bouleverser mes deux champs de bl\u00e9, pour\nqu\u2019il ne f\u00fbt point attir\u00e9 par cet app\u00e2t, et d\u00e9molir ma tonnelle et\nma tente afin qu\u2019il ne p\u00fbt trouver nul vestige de mon habitation qui\nl\u2019e\u00fbt excit\u00e9 \u00e0 pousser ses recherches, dans l\u2019espoir de rencontrer les\nhabitants de l\u2019\u00eele.\nCe fut l\u00e0 le sujet de mes r\u00e9flexions pendant la nuit qui suivit mon\nretour \u00e0 la maison, quand les appr\u00e9hensions qui s\u2019\u00e9taient empar\u00e9es\nde mon esprit \u00e9taient encore dans toute leur force, ainsi que les\nvapeurs de mon cerveau. La crainte du danger est dix mille fois plus\neffrayante que le danger lui-m\u00eame, et nous trouvons le poids de\nl\u2019anxi\u00e9t\u00e9 plus lourd de beaucoup que le mal que nous redoutons. Mais\nle pire dans tout cela, c\u2019est que dans mon trouble je ne tirais plus\naucun secours de la r\u00e9signation. J\u2019\u00e9tais semblable \u00e0 Sa\u00fcl, qui se\nplaignait non seulement de ce que les Philistins \u00e9taient sur lui, mais\nque Dieu l\u2019avait abandonn\u00e9; je n\u2019employais plus les moyens propres\n\u00e0 rass\u00e9r\u00e9ner mon \u00e2me en criant \u00e0 Dieu dans ma d\u00e9tresse, et en me\nreposant pour ma d\u00e9fense et mon salut sur sa providence, comme j\u2019avais\nfait auparavant. Si je l\u2019avais fait, j\u2019aurais au moins support\u00e9 plus\ncourageusement cette nouvelle alarme, et peut-\u00eatre l\u2019aurais-je brav\u00e9e\navec plus de r\u00e9solution.\nCe trouble de mes pens\u00e9es me tint \u00e9veill\u00e9 toute la nuit, mais je\nm\u2019endormis dans la matin\u00e9e. La fatigue de mon \u00e2me et l\u2019\u00e9puisement de\nmes esprits me procur\u00e8rent un sommeil tr\u00e8s profond, et je me r\u00e9veillai\nbeaucoup plus calme. Je commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 raisonner de sens rassis,\net, apr\u00e8s un long d\u00e9bat avec moi-m\u00eame, je conclus que cette \u00eele, si\nagr\u00e9able, si fertile et si proche de la terre ferme que j\u2019avais vue,\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas aussi abandonn\u00e9e que je l\u2019avais cru; qu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 il\nn\u2019y avait point d\u2019habitants fixes qui v\u00e9cussent sur ce rivage, mais\nqu\u2019assur\u00e9ment des embarcations y venaient quelquefois du continent,\nsoit avec dessein, soit pouss\u00e9es par les vents contraires.\nAyant v\u00e9cu quinze ann\u00e9es dans ce lieu, et n\u2019ayant point encore\nrencontr\u00e9 l\u2019ombre d\u2019une cr\u00e9ature humaine, il \u00e9tait donc probable que\nsi quelquefois on rel\u00e2chait \u00e0 cette \u00eele, on se rembarquait aussit\u00f4t\nque possible, puisqu\u2019on ne l\u2019avait point jug\u00e9e propre \u00e0 s\u2019y \u00e9tablir\njusqu\u2019alors.\nLe plus grand danger que j\u2019avais \u00e0 redouter, c\u2019\u00e9tait donc une\nsemblable descente accidentelle des gens de la terre ferme, qui,\nselon toute apparence, abordant \u00e0 cette \u00eele contre leur gr\u00e9, s\u2019en\n\u00e9loignaient avec toute la h\u00e2te possible, et n\u2019y passaient que rarement\nla nuit pour attendre le retour du jour et de la mar\u00e9e. Ainsi je\nn\u2019avais rien autre \u00e0 faire qu\u2019\u00e0 me m\u00e9nager une retraite s\u00fbre pour le\ncas o\u00f9 je verrais prendre terre \u00e0 des sauvages.\nJe commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 me repentir d\u2019avoir creus\u00e9 ma grotte et de lui\navoir donn\u00e9 une issue qui aboutissait, comme je l\u2019ai dit, au del\u00e0\nde l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 ma fortification joignait le rocher. Apr\u00e8s m\u00fbre\nd\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, je r\u00e9solus de me faire un second retranchement en\ndemi-cercle, \u00e0 quelque distance de ma muraille, juste o\u00f9 douze ans\nauparavant j\u2019avais plant\u00e9 le double rang d\u2019arbres dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9 fait\nmention. Ces arbres avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 plac\u00e9s si pr\u00e8s les uns des autres,\nqu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait besoin que d\u2019enfoncer entre eux quelques poteaux pour en\nfaire aussit\u00f4t une muraille \u00e9paisse et forte.\nDe cette mani\u00e8re j\u2019eus un double rempart: celui du dehors \u00e9tait\nrenforc\u00e9 de pi\u00e8ces de charpente, de vieux c\u00e2bles, et de tout ce que\nj\u2019avais jug\u00e9 propre \u00e0 le consolider, et perc\u00e9 de sept meurtri\u00e8res\nassez larges pour passer le bras. Du c\u00f4t\u00e9 ext\u00e9rieur je l\u2019\u00e9paissis\nde dix pieds, en y amoncelant toute la terre que j\u2019extrayais de ma\ngrotte, et en pi\u00e9tinant dessus. Dans les sept meurtri\u00e8res j\u2019imaginai\nde placer les mousquets que j\u2019ai dit avoir sauv\u00e9s du navire au\nnombre de sept, et de les monter en guise de canons sur des esp\u00e8ces\nd\u2019aff\u00fbts; de sorte que je pouvais en deux minutes faire feu de toute\nmon artillerie. Je fus plusieurs grands mois \u00e0 achever ce rempart, et\ncependant je ne me crus point en s\u00fbret\u00e9 qu\u2019il ne f\u00fbt fini.\nCet ouvrage termin\u00e9, pour le masquer je fichai dans tout le terrain\nenvironnant des b\u00e2tons ou des pieux de ce bois semblable \u00e0 l\u2019osier qui\ncroissait si facilement. Je crois que j\u2019en plantai bien pr\u00e8s de vingt\nmille, tout en r\u00e9servant entre eux et mon rempart une assez grande\nesplanade pour d\u00e9couvrir l\u2019ennemi et pour qu\u2019il ne p\u00fbt, \u00e0 la faveur\nde ces jeunes arbres, si toutefois il le tentait, se glisser jusqu\u2019au\npied de ma muraille ext\u00e9rieure.\nAu bout de deux ans j\u2019eus un fourr\u00e9 \u00e9pais, et au bout de cinq ou six\nans j\u2019eus devant ma demeure un bocage qui avait cr\u00fb si prodigieusement\ndru et fort, qu\u2019il \u00e9tait vraiment imp\u00e9n\u00e9trable. \u00c2me qui vive ne se\nserait jamais imagin\u00e9 qu\u2019il y e\u00fbt quelque chose par derri\u00e8re, et\nsurtout une habitation. Comme je ne m\u2019\u00e9tais point r\u00e9serv\u00e9 d\u2019avenue,\nje me servais, pour entrer et sortir, de deux \u00e9chelles: avec la\npremi\u00e8re je montais \u00e0 un endroit peu \u00e9lev\u00e9 du rocher, o\u00f9 il y avait\nplace pour poser la seconde; et quand je les avais retir\u00e9es toutes les\ndeux, il \u00e9tait de toute impossibilit\u00e9 \u00e0 un homme de venir \u00e0 moi sans\nse blesser; et quand m\u00eame il e\u00fbt pu y parvenir, il se serait encore\ntrouv\u00e9 au del\u00e0 de ma muraille ext\u00e9rieure.\nC\u2019est ainsi que je pris pour ma propre conservation toutes les mesures\nque la prudence humaine pouvait me sugg\u00e9rer, et l\u2019on verra par la\nsuite qu\u2019elles n\u2019\u00e9taient pas enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9nu\u00e9es de justes raisons. Je\nne pr\u00e9voyais rien alors cependant qui ne me f\u00fbt souffl\u00e9 par la peur.\nDurant ces travaux je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas tout \u00e0 fait insouciant de mes autres\naffaires; je m\u2019int\u00e9ressais surtout \u00e0 mon petit troupeau de ch\u00e8vres,\nqui non seulement suppl\u00e9ait \u00e0 mes besoins pr\u00e9sents et commen\u00e7ait \u00e0\nme suffire, sans aucune d\u00e9pense de poudre et de plomb, mais encore\nm\u2019exemptait des fatigues de la chasse. Je ne me souciais nullement\nde perdre de pareils avantages et de rassembler un troupeau sur de\nnouveaux frais.\nApr\u00e8s de longues consid\u00e9rations \u00e0 ce sujet, je ne pus trouver que\ndeux moyens de le pr\u00e9server: le premier \u00e9tait de chercher quelque\nautre emplacement convenable pour creuser une caverne sous terre, o\u00f9\nje l\u2019enfermerais toutes les nuits, et le second d\u2019enclore deux ou\ntrois petits terrains \u00e9loign\u00e9s les uns des autres et aussi cach\u00e9s que\npossible, dans chacun desquels je pusse parquer une demi-douzaine\nde ch\u00e8vres, afin que, s\u2019il advenait quelque d\u00e9sastre au troupeau\nprincipal, je pusse le r\u00e9tablir en peu de temps et avec peu de peine.\nQuoique ce dernier dessein demand\u00e2t beaucoup de temps et de travail,\nil me parut le plus raisonnable.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, j\u2019employai quelques jours \u00e0 parcourir les parties\nles plus retir\u00e9es de l\u2019\u00eele, et je fis choix d\u2019un lieu aussi cach\u00e9\nque je le d\u00e9sirais. C\u2019\u00e9tait un petit terrain humide au milieu de\nces bois \u00e9pais et profonds o\u00f9, comme je l\u2019ai dit, j\u2019avais failli me\nperdre autrefois en essayant de les traverser pour revenir de la c\u00f4te\norientale de l\u2019\u00eele. Il y avait l\u00e0 une clairi\u00e8re de pr\u00e8s de trois\nacres, si bien entour\u00e9e de bois que c\u2019\u00e9tait presque un enclos naturel,\nqui, pour son ach\u00e8vement, n\u2019exigeait donc pas autant de travail que\nles premiers, que j\u2019avais faits si p\u00e9niblement.\nJe me mis aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage, et en moins d\u2019un mois j\u2019eus si bien\nenferm\u00e9 cette pi\u00e8ce de terre, que mon troupeau ou ma harde, appelez-le\ncomme il vous plaira, qui d\u00e8s lors n\u2019\u00e9tait plus sauvage, pouvait s\u2019y\ntrouver aussi bien en s\u00fbret\u00e9. J\u2019y conduisis sans plus de d\u00e9lai dix\nch\u00e8vres et deux boucs; apr\u00e8s quoi je continuai \u00e0 perfectionner cette\ncl\u00f4ture jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019elle f\u00fbt aussi solide que l\u2019autre. Toutefois,\ncomme je la fis plus \u00e0 loisir, elle me prit beaucoup plus de temps.\nLa seule rencontre d\u2019un vestige de pied d\u2019homme me co\u00fbta tout ce\ntravail: je n\u2019avais point encore aper\u00e7u de cr\u00e9ature humaine; et voici\nque depuis deux ans je vivais dans des transes qui rendaient ma\nvie beaucoup moins confortable qu\u2019auparavant, et que peuvent seuls\nimaginer ceux qui savent ce que c\u2019est que d\u2019\u00eatre perp\u00e9tuellement\ndans les r\u00e9seaux de la peur. Je remarquerai ici avec chagrin que\nles troubles de mon esprit influaient extr\u00eamement sur mes soins\nreligieux car la crainte et la frayeur de tomber entre les mains des\nsauvages et des cannibales accablaient tellement mon c\u0153ur, que je\nme trouvais rarement en \u00e9tat de m\u2019adresser \u00e0 mon Cr\u00e9ateur, au moins\navec ce calme rassis et cette r\u00e9signation d\u2019\u00e2me qui m\u2019avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nhabituels. Je ne priais Dieu que dans un grand abattement et dans une\ndouloureuse oppression, j\u2019\u00e9tais plein de l\u2019imminence du p\u00e9ril, je\nm\u2019attendais chaque soir \u00e0 \u00eatre massacr\u00e9 et d\u00e9vor\u00e9 avant la fin de la\nnuit. Je puis affirmer par ma propre exp\u00e9rience qu\u2019un c\u0153ur rempli de\npaix, de reconnaissance, d\u2019amour et d\u2019affection, est beaucoup plus\npropre \u00e0 la pri\u00e8re qu\u2019un c\u0153ur plein de terreur et de confusion; et\nque, sous la crainte d\u2019un malheur prochain, un homme n\u2019est pas plus\ncapable d\u2019accomplir ses devoirs envers Dieu qu\u2019il n\u2019est capable de\nrepentance sur le lit de mort. Les troubles affectant l\u2019esprit comme\nles souffrances affectent le corps, ils doivent \u00eatre n\u00e9cessairement un\naussi grand emp\u00eachement que les maladies: prier Dieu est purement un\nacte de l\u2019esprit.\nMais poursuivons.\u2014Apr\u00e8s avoir mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9 une partie de ma petite\nprovision vivante, je parcourus toute l\u2019\u00eele pour chercher un autre\nlieu secret propre \u00e0 recevoir un pareil d\u00e9p\u00f4t. Un jour, m\u2019avan\u00e7ant\nvers la pointe occidentale de l\u2019\u00eele plus que je ne l\u2019avais jamais\nfait et promenant mes regards sur la mer, je crus apercevoir une\nembarcation qui voguait \u00e0 une grande distance. J\u2019avais trouv\u00e9 une ou\ndeux lunettes d\u2019approche dans un des coffres de matelots que j\u2019avais\nsauv\u00e9s de notre navire, mais je ne les avais point sur moi, et l\u2019objet\n\u00e9tait si \u00e9loign\u00e9 que je ne pus le distinguer, quoique j\u2019y tinsse mes\nyeux attach\u00e9s jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils fussent incapables de regarder plus\nlongtemps. \u00c9tait-ce ou n\u2019\u00e9tait-ce pas un bateau? je ne sais; mais en\ndescendant de la colline o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais mont\u00e9, je perdis l\u2019objet de vue et\nn\u2019y songeai plus; seulement je pris la r\u00e9solution de ne plus sortir\nsans une lunette dans ma poche.\nQuand je fus arriv\u00e9 au bas de la colline, \u00e0 l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, o\u00f9\nvraiment je n\u2019\u00e9tais jamais all\u00e9, je fus tout aussit\u00f4t convaincu qu\u2019un\nvestige de pied d\u2019homme n\u2019\u00e9tait pas une chose aussi \u00e9trange en ce\nlieu que je l\u2019imaginais.\u2014Si par une providence sp\u00e9ciale je n\u2019avais\npas \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9 sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele o\u00f9 les sauvages ne venaient jamais,\nil m\u2019aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 facile de savoir que rien n\u2019\u00e9tait plus ordinaire\naux canots du continent, quand il leur advenait de s\u2019\u00e9loigner un\npeu trop en haute mer, de rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 cette portion de mon \u00eele; en\noutre, que souvent ces sauvages se rencontraient dans leurs pirogues,\nse livraient des combats, et que les vainqueurs menaient leurs\nprisonniers sur ce rivage, o\u00f9, suivant l\u2019horrible coutume cannibale,\nils les tuaient et s\u2019en repaissaient, ainsi qu\u2019on le verra plus tard.\nQuand je fus descendu de la colline, \u00e0 la pointe sud-ouest de l\u2019\u00eele,\ncomme je le disais tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure, je fus profond\u00e9ment atterr\u00e9. Il\nme serait impossible d\u2019exprimer l\u2019horreur qui s\u2019empara de mon \u00e2me \u00e0\nl\u2019aspect du rivage, jonch\u00e9 de cr\u00e2nes, de mains, de pieds et autres\nossements. Je remarquai surtout une place o\u00f9 l\u2019on avait fait du feu,\net un banc creus\u00e9 en rond dans la terre, comme l\u2019ar\u00e8ne d\u2019un combat de\ncoqs, o\u00f9 sans doute ces mis\u00e9rables sauvages s\u2019\u00e9taient plac\u00e9s pour leur\natroce festin de chair humaine.\n[Illustration: ... une place o\u00f9 l\u2019on avait fait du feu.]\nJe fus si stup\u00e9fi\u00e9 \u00e0 cette vue qu\u2019elle suspendit pour quelque temps\nl\u2019id\u00e9e de mes propres dangers: toutes mes appr\u00e9hensions \u00e9taient\n\u00e9touff\u00e9es sous les impressions que me donnaient un tel ab\u00eeme\nd\u2019infernale brutalit\u00e9 et l\u2019horreur d\u2019une telle d\u00e9gradation de la\nnature humaine. J\u2019avais bien souvent entendu parler de cela, mais\njusque-l\u00e0 je n\u2019avais jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 si pr\u00e8s de cet horrible spectacle.\nJ\u2019en d\u00e9tournai la face, mon c\u0153ur se souleva, et je serais tomb\u00e9 en\nfaiblesse si la nature ne m\u2019avait soulag\u00e9 aussit\u00f4t par un violent\nvomissement. Revenu \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame, je ne pus rester plus longtemps en ce\nlieu; je remontai en toute h\u00e2te sur la colline, et je me dirigeai vers\nma demeure.\nQuand je me fus un peu \u00e9loign\u00e9 de cette partie de l\u2019\u00eele, je m\u2019arr\u00eatai\ntout court comme an\u00e9anti. En recouvrant mes sens, dans toute\nl\u2019affection de mon \u00e2me, je levai au ciel mes yeux pleins de larmes, et\nje remerciai Dieu de ce qu\u2019il m\u2019avait fait na\u00eetre dans une partie du\nmonde \u00e9trang\u00e8re \u00e0 d\u2019aussi abominables cr\u00e9atures, et de ce que dans ma\ncondition, que j\u2019avais estim\u00e9e si mis\u00e9rable, il m\u2019avait donn\u00e9 tant de\nconsolations; que je devais plut\u00f4t l\u2019en remercier que m\u2019en plaindre;\net par-dessus tout de ce que dans mon infortune m\u00eame j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9\nr\u00e9confort\u00e9 par sa connaissance et par l\u2019espoir de ses b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions:\nf\u00e9licit\u00e9 qui compensait et au del\u00e0 toutes les mis\u00e8res que j\u2019avais\nsouffertes et que je pouvais souffrir encore.\nPlein de ces sentiments de gratitude, je revins \u00e0 mon ch\u00e2teau, et je\ncommen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre beaucoup plus tranquille sur ma position que je ne\nl\u2019avais jamais \u00e9t\u00e9; car je remarquai que ces mis\u00e9rables ne venaient\njamais dans l\u2019\u00eele \u00e0 la recherche de quelque butin, n\u2019ayant ni besoin\nni souci de ce qu\u2019elle pouvait renfermer, et ne s\u2019attendant pas \u00e0\ny trouver quelque chose, apr\u00e8s avoir plusieurs fois, sans doute,\nexplor\u00e9 la partie couverte et bois\u00e9e sans y rien d\u00e9couvrir \u00e0 leur\nconvenance.\u2014J\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 plus de dix-huit ans sans rencontrer le\nmoindre vestige d\u2019une cr\u00e9ature humaine. Retir\u00e9 comme je l\u2019\u00e9tais\nalors, je pouvais bien encore en passer dix-huit autres, si je ne me\ntrahissais moi-m\u00eame, ce que je pouvais facilement \u00e9viter. Ma seule\naffaire \u00e9tait donc de me tenir toujours parfaitement cach\u00e9 o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais,\n\u00e0 moins que je ne vinsse \u00e0 trouver des hommes meilleurs que l\u2019esp\u00e8ce\ncannibale, des hommes auxquels je pourrais me faire conna\u00eetre.\nToutefois je con\u00e7us une telle horreur de ces ex\u00e9crables sauvages\net de leur atroce coutume de se manger les uns les autres, de\ns\u2019entre-d\u00e9vorer, que je restai sombre et pensif, et me s\u00e9questrai dans\nmon propre district durant au moins deux ans. Quand je dis mon propre\ndistrict, j\u2019entends par cela mes trois plantations: mon _ch\u00e2teau_,\nma _maison de campagne_, que j\u2019appelais ma tonnelle, et mes _parcs_\ndans les bois, o\u00f9 je n\u2019allais absolument que pour mes ch\u00e8vres; car\nl\u2019aversion que la nature me donnait pour ces abominables sauvages\n\u00e9tait telle que je redoutais leur vue autant que celle du diable.\nJe ne visitai pas une seule fois ma pirogue pendant tout ce temps,\nmais je commen\u00e7ai de songer \u00e0 m\u2019en faire une autre; car je n\u2019aurais\npas voulu tenter de naviguer autour de l\u2019\u00eele pour ramener cette\nembarcation dans mes parages, de peur d\u2019\u00eatre rencontr\u00e9 en mer par\nquelques sauvages: je savais trop bien quel aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 mon sort si\nj\u2019eusse eu le malheur de tomber entre leurs mains.\nLe temps n\u00e9anmoins et l\u2019assurance o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais de ne courir aucun\nrisque d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9couvert dissip\u00e8rent mon anxi\u00e9t\u00e9, et je recommen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nvivre tranquillement, avec cette diff\u00e9rence que j\u2019usais de plus de\npr\u00e9cautions, que j\u2019avais l\u2019\u0153il plus au guet, et que j\u2019\u00e9vitais de tirer\nmon mousquet, de peur d\u2019\u00eatre entendu des sauvages s\u2019il s\u2019en trouvait\ndans l\u2019\u00eele.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait donc une chose fort heureuse pour moi que je me fusse pourvu\nd\u2019une race de ch\u00e8vres domestiques, afin de ne pas \u00eatre dans la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de chasser au tir dans les bois. Si par la suite j\u2019attrapai\nencore quelques ch\u00e8vres, ce ne fut qu\u2019au moyen de trappes et de\ntraquenards; car je restai bien deux ans sans tirer une seule fois mon\nmousquet, quoique je ne sortisse jamais sans cette arme. Des trois\npistolets que j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9s du navire, j\u2019en portais toujours au moins\ndeux \u00e0 ma ceinture de peau de ch\u00e8vre. J\u2019avais fourbi un de mes grands\ncoutelas que j\u2019avais aussi tir\u00e9s du vaisseau, et je m\u2019\u00e9tais fait un\nceinturon pour le mettre. J\u2019\u00e9tais vraiment formidable \u00e0 voir dans\nmes sorties, si l\u2019on ajoute \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re description que j\u2019ai faite\nde moi-m\u00eame les deux pistolets et le grand sabre qui sans fourreau\npendait \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9.\nLes choses se gouvern\u00e8rent ainsi quelque temps. Sauf ces pr\u00e9cautions,\nj\u2019avais repris mon premier genre de vie calme et paisible. Je fus\nde plus en plus amen\u00e9 \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre combien ma condition \u00e9tait loin\nd\u2019\u00eatre mis\u00e9rable au prix de quelques autres, m\u00eame de beaucoup d\u2019autres\nqui, s\u2019il e\u00fbt plu \u00e0 Dieu, auraient pu \u00eatre aussi mon sort; et je fis\ncette r\u00e9flexion, qu\u2019il y aurait peu de murmures parmi les hommes,\nquelle que soit leur situation, s\u2019ils se portaient \u00e0 la reconnaissance\nen comparant leur existence avec celles qui sont pires, plut\u00f4t que de\nnourrir leurs plaintes en jetant sans cesse les regards sur de plus\nheureuses positions.\nComme peu de chose alors me faisait r\u00e9ellement faute, je pense que\nles frayeurs o\u00f9 m\u2019avaient plong\u00e9 ces m\u00e9chants sauvages et le soin que\nj\u2019avais pris de ma propre conservation avaient \u00e9mouss\u00e9 mon esprit\nimaginatif dans la recherche de mon bien-\u00eatre. J\u2019avais m\u00eame n\u00e9glig\u00e9\nun excellent projet qui m\u2019avait autrefois occup\u00e9: celui d\u2019essayer \u00e0\nfaire de la dr\u00eache avec une partie de mon orge et de brasser de la\nbi\u00e8re. C\u2019\u00e9tait vraiment un dessein bizarre, dont je me reprochais\nsouvent la na\u00efvet\u00e9; car je voyais parfaitement qu\u2019il me manquerait\npour son ex\u00e9cution bien des choses n\u00e9cessaires auxquelles il me serait\nimpossible de suppl\u00e9er: d\u2019abord je n\u2019avais point de tonneaux pour\nconserver ma bi\u00e8re; et, comme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait observer, j\u2019avais\nemploy\u00e9 plusieurs jours, plusieurs semaines, voire m\u00eame plusieurs\nmois, \u00e0 essayer d\u2019en construire, mais tout \u00e0 fait en vain. En second\nlieu, je n\u2019avais ni houblon pour la rendre de bonne garde, ni levure\npour la faire fermenter, ni chaudron ni chaudi\u00e8re pour la faire\nbouillir; et cependant, sans l\u2019appr\u00e9hension des sauvages, j\u2019aurais\nentrepris ce travail, et peut-\u00eatre en serais-je venu \u00e0 bout; car\nj\u2019abandonnais rarement une chose avant de l\u2019avoir accomplie, quand une\nfois elle m\u2019\u00e9tait entr\u00e9e dans la t\u00eate assez obstin\u00e9ment pour m\u2019y faire\nmettre la main.\nMais alors mon imagination s\u2019\u00e9tait tourn\u00e9e d\u2019un tout autre c\u00f4t\u00e9: je\nne faisais nuit et jour que songer aux moyens de tuer quelques-uns\nde ces monstres au milieu de leurs f\u00eates sanguinaires, et, s\u2019il\n\u00e9tait possible, de sauver les victimes qu\u2019ils venaient \u00e9gorger sur\nle rivage. Je remplirais un volume plus gros que ne le sera celui-ci\ntout entier, si je consignais tous les stratag\u00e8mes que je combinai,\nou plut\u00f4t que je couvai en mon esprit pour d\u00e9truire ces cr\u00e9atures ou\nau moins les effrayer et les d\u00e9go\u00fbter \u00e0 jamais de revenir dans l\u2019\u00eele;\nmais tout avortait, mais, livr\u00e9 \u00e0 mes propres ressources, rien ne\npouvait s\u2019effectuer. Que pouvait faire un seul homme contre vingt ou\ntrente sauvages arm\u00e9s de zagaies ou d\u2019arcs et de fl\u00e8ches, dont ils se\nservaient aussi \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr que je pouvais faire de mon mousquet?\nQuelquefois je songeais \u00e0 creuser un trou sous l\u2019endroit qui leur\nservait d\u2019\u00e2tre, pour y placer cinq ou six livres de poudre \u00e0 canon,\nqui, venant \u00e0 s\u2019enflammer lorsqu\u2019ils allumeraient leur feu, feraient\nsauter tout ce qui serait \u00e0 l\u2019entour. Mais il me f\u00e2chait de prodiguer\ntant de poudre, ma provision n\u2019\u00e9tant plus alors que d\u2019un baril, sans\navoir la certitude que l\u2019explosion se ferait en temps donn\u00e9 pour les\nsurprendre: elle pouvait fort bien ne leur griller que les oreilles\net les effrayer, ce qui n\u2019e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 suffisant pour leur faire\n\u00e9vacuer la place. Je renon\u00e7ai donc \u00e0 ce projet, et je me proposai\nalors de me poster en embuscade, en un lieu convenable, avec mes trois\nmousquets charg\u00e9s \u00e0 deux balles, et de faire feu au beau milieu de\nleur sanglante c\u00e9r\u00e9monie quand je serais s\u00fbr d\u2019en tuer ou d\u2019en blesser\ndeux ou trois peut-\u00eatre \u00e0 chaque coup. Fondant ensuite sur eux avec\nmes trois pistolets et mon sabre, je ne doute pas, fussent-ils vingt,\nde les tuer tous. Cette id\u00e9e me sourit pendant quelques semaines, et\nj\u2019en \u00e9tais si plein que j\u2019en r\u00eavais souvent, et que dans mon sommeil\nje me voyais quelquefois juste au moment de faire feu sur les sauvages.\nJ\u2019allai si loin dans mon indignation, que j\u2019employai plusieurs jours\n\u00e0 chercher un lieu propre \u00e0 me mettre en embuscade pour les \u00e9pier, et\nque m\u00eame je me rendis fr\u00e9quemment \u00e0 l\u2019endroit de leurs festins, avec\nlequel je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me familiariser, surtout dans ces moments o\u00f9\nj\u2019\u00e9tais rempli de sentiments de vengeance, et de l\u2019id\u00e9e d\u2019en passer\nvingt ou trente au fil de l\u2019\u00e9p\u00e9e; mais mon animosit\u00e9 reculait devant\nl\u2019horreur que je ressentais \u00e0 cette place et \u00e0 l\u2019aspect des traces de\nces mis\u00e9rables barbares s\u2019entre-d\u00e9vorant.\nEnfin je trouvai un lieu favorable sur le versant de la colline,\no\u00f9 je pouvais guetter en s\u00fbret\u00e9 l\u2019arriv\u00e9e de leurs pirogues, puis,\navant m\u00eame qu\u2019ils n\u2019aient abord\u00e9 au rivage, me glisser inaper\u00e7u\ndans un massif d\u2019arbres dont un avait un creux assez grand pour me\ncacher tout entier. L\u00e0 je pouvais me poster et observer toutes leurs\nabominables actions, et les viser \u00e0 la t\u00eate quand ils se trouveraient\ntous ensemble, et si serr\u00e9s, qu\u2019il me serait presque impossible de\nmanquer mon coup et de ne pas en blesser trois ou quatre \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re\nd\u00e9charge.\nR\u00e9solu d\u2019accomplir en ce lieu mon dessein, je pr\u00e9parai en cons\u00e9quence\ndeux mousquets et mon fusil de chasse ordinaire: je chargeai les deux\nmousquets avec chacun deux lingots et quatre ou cinq balles de calibre\nde pistolet, mon fusil de chasse d\u2019une poign\u00e9e de grosses chevrotines\net mes pistolets de chacun quatre balles. Dans cet \u00e9tat, bien pourvu\nde munitions pour une seconde et une troisi\u00e8me charge, je me disposai\n\u00e0 me mettre en campagne.\nUne fois que j\u2019eus ainsi arr\u00eat\u00e9 le plan de mon exp\u00e9dition et qu\u2019en\nimagination je l\u2019eus mis en pratique, je me rendis r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement\nchaque matin sur le sommet de la colline \u00e9loign\u00e9e de mon ch\u00e2teau\nd\u2019environ trois milles au plus, pour voir si je ne d\u00e9couvrirais pas en\nmer quelques bateaux abordant \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eele ou faisant route de son c\u00f4t\u00e9.\nMais apr\u00e8s deux ou trois mois de faction assidue, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me\nlasser de cette fatigue, m\u2019en retournant toujours sans avoir fait\naucune d\u00e9couverte. Durant tout ce temps je n\u2019entrevis pas la moindre\nchose, non seulement sur ou pr\u00e8s le rivage, mais sur la surface de\nl\u2019Oc\u00e9an, aussi loin que ma vue ou mes lunettes d\u2019approche pouvaient\ns\u2019\u00e9tendre de toutes parts.\n[Illustration: ... pour voir si je ne d\u00e9couvrirais pas en mer quelques\nbateaux.]\nAussi longtemps que je fis ma tourn\u00e9e journali\u00e8re \u00e0 la colline,\nmon dessein subsista dans toute sa vigueur, et mon esprit me parut\ntoujours \u00eatre en disposition convenable pour ex\u00e9cuter le perfide\nmassacre d\u2019une trentaine de sauvages sans d\u00e9fense, et cela pour un\ncrime dont la discussion ne m\u2019\u00e9tait pas m\u00eame entr\u00e9e dans l\u2019esprit,\nma col\u00e8re s\u2019\u00e9tant tout d\u2019abord enflamm\u00e9e par l\u2019horreur que j\u2019avais\ncon\u00e7ue de la monstrueuse coutume des peuples de cette contr\u00e9e \u00e0 qui,\nce semble, la Providence avait permis, en sa sage disposition du\nmonde, de n\u2019avoir d\u2019autre guide que leurs propres passions perverses\net abominables, et qui par cons\u00e9quent \u00e9taient livr\u00e9s peut-\u00eatre depuis\nplusieurs si\u00e8cles \u00e0 cette horrible coutume, qu\u2019ils recevaient par\ntradition, et o\u00f9 rien ne pouvait les porter, qu\u2019une nature enti\u00e8rement\nabandonn\u00e9e du ciel et entra\u00een\u00e9e par une infernale d\u00e9pravation.\u2014Mais\nlorsque je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me lasser, comme je l\u2019ai dit, de cette\ninfructueuse excursion que je faisais chaque matin si loin et depuis\nsi longtemps, mon opinion elle-m\u00eame commen\u00e7a aussi \u00e0 changer, et je\nconsid\u00e9rai avec plus de calme et de sang-froid la m\u00eal\u00e9e o\u00f9 j\u2019allais\nm\u2019engager. Quelle autorit\u00e9, quelle mission avais-je pour me pr\u00e9tendre\njuge et bourreau de ces hommes criminels lorsque Dieu avait jug\u00e9\nconvenable de les laisser impunis durant plusieurs si\u00e8cles, pour\nqu\u2019ils fussent en quelque sorte les ex\u00e9cuteurs r\u00e9ciproques de ses\njugements? Ces peuples \u00e9taient loin de m\u2019avoir offens\u00e9, de quel droit\nm\u2019immiscer \u00e0 la querelle de sang qu\u2019ils vidaient entre eux? Fort\nsouvent s\u2019\u00e9levait en moi ce d\u00e9bat: \u00abComment puis-je savoir ce que\nDieu lui-m\u00eame juge en ce cas tout particulier?\u00bb Il est certain que\nces peuples ne consid\u00e8rent pas ceci comme un crime; ce n\u2019est point\nr\u00e9prouv\u00e9 par leur conscience, leurs lumi\u00e8res ne le leur reprochent\npoint. Ils ignorent que c\u2019est mal, et ne le commettent point pour\nbraver la justice divine, comme nous faisons dans presque tous les\np\u00e9ch\u00e9s dont nous nous rendons coupables. Ils ne pensent pas plus que\nce soit un crime de tuer un prisonnier de guerre que nous de tuer un\nb\u0153uf, et de manger de la chair humaine que nous de manger du mouton.\nDe ces r\u00e9flexions il s\u2019ensuivit n\u00e9cessairement que j\u2019\u00e9tais injuste,\net que ces peuples n\u2019\u00e9taient pas plus des meurtriers dans le sens\no\u00f9 je les avais d\u2019abord condamn\u00e9s en mon esprit, que ces chr\u00e9tiens\nqui souvent mettent \u00e0 mort les prisonniers faits dans le combat, ou\nqui plus souvent passent sans quartier des arm\u00e9es enti\u00e8res au fil de\nl\u2019\u00e9p\u00e9e, quoiqu\u2019elles aient mis bas les armes et se soient soumises.\nTout brutal et inhumain que pouvait \u00eatre l\u2019usage de s\u2019entre-d\u00e9vorer,\nil me vint ensuite \u00e0 l\u2019esprit que cela r\u00e9ellement ne me regardait en\nrien: ces peuples ne m\u2019avaient point offens\u00e9; s\u2019ils attentaient \u00e0\nma vie ou si je voyais que pour ma propre conservation il me fall\u00fbt\ntomber sur eux, il n\u2019y aurait rien \u00e0 redire \u00e0 cela; mais \u00e9tant hors\nde leur pouvoir, mais ces gens n\u2019ayant aucune connaissance de moi,\net par cons\u00e9quent aucun projet sur moi, il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas juste de les\nassaillir: c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 justifier la conduite des Espagnols et toutes\nles atrocit\u00e9s qu\u2019ils pratiqu\u00e8rent en Am\u00e9rique, o\u00f9 ils ont d\u00e9truit\ndes millions de ces peuples, qui, bien qu\u2019ils fussent idol\u00e2tres et\nbarbares, et qu\u2019ils observassent quelques rites sanglants, tels que de\nfaire des sacrifices humains, n\u2019\u00e9taient pas moins de fort innocentes\ngens par rapport aux Espagnols. Aussi, aujourd\u2019hui, les Espagnols\neux-m\u00eames et toutes les autres nations chr\u00e9tiennes de l\u2019Europe\nparlent-ils de cette extermination avec la plus profonde horreur et\nla plus profonde ex\u00e9cration, et comme d\u2019une boucherie et d\u2019une \u0153uvre\nmonstrueuse de cruaut\u00e9 et de sang, injustifiable devant Dieu et devant\nles hommes! Par l\u00e0 le nom d\u2019Espagnol est devenu odieux et terrible\npour toute \u00e2me pleine d\u2019humanit\u00e9 ou de compassion chr\u00e9tienne; comme si\nl\u2019Espagne \u00e9tait seule vou\u00e9e \u00e0 la production d\u2019une race d\u2019hommes sans\nentrailles pour les malheureux, et sans principes de cette tol\u00e9rance\nmarque av\u00e9r\u00e9e des c\u0153urs magnanimes.\nCes consid\u00e9rations m\u2019arr\u00eat\u00e8rent. Je fis une sorte de halte, et je\ncommen\u00e7ai petit \u00e0 petit \u00e0 me d\u00e9tourner de mon dessein et \u00e0 conclure\nque c\u2019\u00e9tait une chose injuste que ma r\u00e9solution d\u2019attaquer les\nsauvages; que mon affaire n\u2019\u00e9tait point d\u2019en venir aux mains avec eux,\n\u00e0 moins qu\u2019ils ne m\u2019assaillissent les premiers, ce qu\u2019il me fallait\npr\u00e9venir autant que possible. Je savais d\u2019ailleurs quel \u00e9tait mon\ndevoir s\u2019ils venaient \u00e0 me d\u00e9couvrir et \u00e0 m\u2019attaquer.\nD\u2019un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, je reconnus que ce projet serait le s\u00fbr moyen non\nd\u2019arriver \u00e0 ma d\u00e9livrance, mais \u00e0 ma ruine totale et \u00e0 ma perte, \u00e0\nmoins que je ne fusse assur\u00e9 de tuer non seulement tous ceux qui\nseraient alors \u00e0 terre, mais encore tous ceux qui pourraient y\nvenir plus tard; car si un seul m\u2019\u00e9chappait pour aller dire \u00e0 ses\ncompatriotes ce qui \u00e9tait advenu, ils reviendraient par milliers\nvenger la mort de leurs compagnons, et je n\u2019aurais donc fait\nqu\u2019attirer sur moi une destruction certaine, dont je n\u2019\u00e9tais point\nmenac\u00e9.\nSomme toute, je conclus que ni en morale ni en politique, je ne devais\nen aucune fa\u00e7on m\u2019entremettre dans ce d\u00e9m\u00eal\u00e9; que mon unique affaire\n\u00e9tait par tous les moyens possibles de me tenir cach\u00e9, et de ne pas\nlaisser la moindre trace qui p\u00fbt faire conjecturer qu\u2019il y avait dans\nl\u2019\u00eele quelque cr\u00e9ature vivante, j\u2019entends de forme humaine.\nLa religion se joignant \u00e0 la prudence, j\u2019acquis alors la conviction\nque j\u2019\u00e9tais tout \u00e0 fait sorti de mes devoirs en concertant des plans\nsanguinaires pour la destruction d\u2019innocentes cr\u00e9atures, j\u2019entends\ninnocentes par rapport \u00e0 moi. Quant \u00e0 leurs crimes, ils s\u2019en rendaient\ncoupables les uns envers les autres, je n\u2019avais rien \u00e0 y faire. Pour\nles offenses nationales il est des punitions nationales, et c\u2019est \u00e0\nDieu qu\u2019il appartient d\u2019infliger des ch\u00e2timents publics \u00e0 ceux qui\nl\u2019ont publiquement offens\u00e9.\nTout cela me parut si \u00e9vident, que ce fut une grande satisfaction\npour moi d\u2019avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9serv\u00e9 de commettre une action qui e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9,\nje le voyais alors avec raison, tout aussi criminelle qu\u2019un meurtre\nvolontaire. A deux genoux je rendis gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu de ce qu\u2019il avait\nainsi d\u00e9tourn\u00e9 de moi cette tache de sang, en le suppliant de\nm\u2019accorder la protection de sa providence, afin que je ne tombasse pas\nentre les mains des barbares, ou que je ne portasse pas mes mains sur\neux \u00e0 moins d\u2019avoir re\u00e7u du ciel la mission manifeste de le faire pour\nla d\u00e9fense de ma vie.\nJe restai pr\u00e8s d\u2019une ann\u00e9e enti\u00e8re dans cette disposition. J\u2019\u00e9tais\nsi \u00e9loign\u00e9 de rechercher l\u2019occasion de tomber sur les sauvages,\nque durant tout ce temps je ne montai pas une fois sur la colline\npour voir si je n\u2019en d\u00e9couvrirais pas, pour savoir s\u2019ils \u00e9taient ou\nn\u2019\u00e9taient pas venus sur le rivage, de peur de r\u00e9veiller mes projets\ncontre eux ou d\u2019\u00eatre tent\u00e9 de les assaillir par quelque occasion\navantageuse qui se pr\u00e9senterait. Je ramenai seulement mon canot,\nqui \u00e9tait sur l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, et le conduisis \u00e0 l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9\norientale. L\u00e0, je le halai dans une petite anse que je trouvai au pied\nde quelques roches \u00e9lev\u00e9es, o\u00f9 je savais qu\u2019en raison des courants\nles sauvages n\u2019oseraient pas ou au moins ne voudraient pas venir avec\nleurs pirogues pour quelque raison que ce f\u00fbt.\nJ\u2019emportai avec mon canot tout ce qui en d\u00e9pendait, et que j\u2019avais\nlaiss\u00e9 l\u00e0, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire un m\u00e2t, une voile, et cette chose en mani\u00e8re\nd\u2019ancre, mais qu\u2019au fait je ne saurais appeler ni ancre ni grappin:\nc\u2019\u00e9tait pourtant ce que j\u2019avais pu faire de mieux. Je transportai\ntoutes ces choses, pour que rien ne p\u00fbt provoquer une d\u00e9couverte et\npour ne laisser aucun indice d\u2019embarcation ou d\u2019habitation dans l\u2019\u00eele.\nHors cela je me tins, comme je l\u2019ai dit, plus retir\u00e9 que jamais, ne\nsortant gu\u00e8re de ma cellule que pour mes occupations habituelles,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire pour traire mes ch\u00e8vres et soigner mon petit troupeau\ndans les bois, qui, parqu\u00e9 tout \u00e0 fait de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele,\n\u00e9tait \u00e0 couvert de tout danger; car il est positif que les sauvages\nqui hantaient l\u2019\u00eele n\u2019y venaient jamais dans le but d\u2019y trouver\nquelque chose, et par cons\u00e9quent ne s\u2019\u00e9cartaient jamais de la c\u00f4te;\net je ne doute pas qu\u2019apr\u00e8s que mes appr\u00e9hensions m\u2019eurent rendu\nsi pr\u00e9cautionneux, ils ne soient descendus \u00e0 terre plusieurs fois\ntout aussi bien qu\u2019auparavant. Je ne pouvais r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sans horreur\n\u00e0 ce qu\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 mon sort si je les eusse rencontr\u00e9s et si j\u2019eusse\n\u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9couvert autrefois, quand, nu et d\u00e9sarm\u00e9, n\u2019ayant pour ma\nd\u00e9fense qu\u2019un fusil qui souvent n\u2019\u00e9tait charg\u00e9 que de petit plomb,\nje parcourais toute mon \u00eele, guignant et furetant pour voir si je\nn\u2019attraperais rien. Quelle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 alors ma terreur si, au lieu de\nd\u00e9couvrir l\u2019empreinte d\u2019un pied d\u2019homme, j\u2019eusse aper\u00e7u quinze ou\nvingt sauvages qui m\u2019eussent donn\u00e9 la chasse, et si je n\u2019eusse pu\n\u00e9chapper \u00e0 la vitesse de leur course?\nQuelquefois ces pens\u00e9es oppressaient mon \u00e2me, et affaissaient\ntellement mon esprit, que je ne pouvais de longtemps recouvrer assez\nde calme pour songer \u00e0 ce que j\u2019eusse fait. Non seulement je n\u2019aurais\npu opposer quelque r\u00e9sistance, mais je n\u2019aurais m\u00eame pas eu assez de\npr\u00e9sence d\u2019esprit pour m\u2019aider des moyens qui auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 en mon\npouvoir, moyens bien inf\u00e9rieurs \u00e0 ceux que je poss\u00e9dais \u00e0 cette heure,\napr\u00e8s tant de consid\u00e9rations et de pr\u00e9parations. Quand ces id\u00e9es\nm\u2019avaient s\u00e9rieusement occup\u00e9, je tombais dans une grande m\u00e9lancolie\nqui parfois durait fort longtemps, mais qui se r\u00e9solvait enfin en\nsentiments de gratitude envers la Providence, qui m\u2019avait d\u00e9livr\u00e9\nde tant de p\u00e9rils invisibles, et pr\u00e9serv\u00e9 de tant de malheurs dont\nj\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 incapable de m\u2019affranchir moi-m\u00eame, car je n\u2019avais pas le\nmoindre soup\u00e7on de leur imminence ou de leur possibilit\u00e9.\nTout ceci renouvela une r\u00e9flexion qui m\u2019\u00e9tait souvent venue en\nl\u2019esprit lorsque je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 comprendre les b\u00e9nignes dispositions\ndu ciel \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9gard des dangers que nous traversons dans cette vie. Que\nde fois nous sommes merveilleusement d\u00e9livr\u00e9s sans en rien savoir! que\nde fois, quand nous sommes en suspens,\u2014comme on dit,\u2014dans le doute\nou l\u2019h\u00e9sitation du chemin que nous avons \u00e0 prendre, un vent secret\nnous pousse vers une autre route que celle o\u00f9 nous tendions, o\u00f9 nous\nappelaient nos sens, notre inclination et peut-\u00eatre m\u00eame nos devoirs!\nNous ressentons une \u00e9trange impression de l\u2019ignorance o\u00f9 nous sommes\ndes causes et du pouvoir qui nous entra\u00eenent; mais nous d\u00e9couvrons\nensuite que, si nous avions suivi la route que nous voulions prendre\net que notre imagination nous faisait une obligation de prendre, nous\naurions couru \u00e0 notre ruine et \u00e0 notre perte.\u2014Par ces r\u00e9flexions et\npar quelques autres semblables je fus amen\u00e9 \u00e0 me faire une r\u00e8gle\nd\u2019ob\u00e9ir \u00e0 cette inspiration secr\u00e8te toutes les fois que mon esprit\nserait dans l\u2019incertitude de faire ou de ne pas faire une chose, de\nsuivre ou de ne pas suivre un chemin, sans en avoir d\u2019autre raison\nque le sentiment ou l\u2019impression m\u00eame pesant sur mon \u00e2me. Je pourrais\ndonner plusieurs exemples du succ\u00e8s de cette conduite dans tout le\ncours de ma vie, et surtout dans la derni\u00e8re partie de mon s\u00e9jour\ndans cette \u00eele infortun\u00e9e, sans compter quelques autres occasions que\nj\u2019aurais probablement observ\u00e9es si j\u2019eusse vu alors de m\u00eame \u0153il que\nje vois aujourd\u2019hui. Mais il n\u2019est jamais trop tard pour \u00eatre sage,\net je ne puis que conseiller \u00e0 tout homme judicieux, dont la vie est\nexpos\u00e9e \u00e0 des \u00e9v\u00e9nements extraordinaires comme le fut la mienne,\nou m\u00eame \u00e0 de moindres \u00e9v\u00e9nements, de ne jamais m\u00e9priser de pareils\navertissements intimes de la Providence, ou de n\u2019importe quelle\nintelligence invisible il voudra. Je ne discuterai pas l\u00e0-dessus;\npeut-\u00eatre ne saurais-je en rendre compte, mais certainement c\u2019est\nune preuve du commerce et de la myst\u00e9rieuse communication entre les\nesprits unis \u00e0 des corps et ceux immat\u00e9riels, preuve incontestable que\nj\u2019aurai occasion de confirmer dans le reste de ma r\u00e9sidence solitaire\nsur cette terre fatale.\nLe lecteur, je pense, ne trouvera pas \u00e9trange si j\u2019avoue que ces\nanxi\u00e9t\u00e9s, ces dangers dans lesquels je passais ma vie, avaient mis fin\n\u00e0 mon industrie et \u00e0 toutes les am\u00e9liorations que j\u2019avais projet\u00e9es\npour mon bien-\u00eatre. J\u2019\u00e9tais alors plus occup\u00e9 du soin de ma s\u00fbret\u00e9\nque du soin de ma nourriture. De peur que le bruit que je pourrais\nfaire ne s\u2019entendit, je ne me souciais plus alors d\u2019enfoncer un clou,\nde couper un morceau de bois, et, pour la m\u00eame raison, encore moins\nde tirer mon mousquet. Ce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019avec la plus grande inqui\u00e9tude\nque je faisais du feu, \u00e0 cause de la fum\u00e9e, qui, dans le jour, \u00e9tant\nvisible \u00e0 une grande distance, aurait pu me trahir; et c\u2019\u00e9tait pour\ncela que j\u2019avais transport\u00e9 la fabrication de cette partie de mes\nobjets qui demandaient l\u2019emploi du feu, comme la cuisson de mes pots\net de mes pipes, dans ma nouvelle habitation des bois, o\u00f9, apr\u00e8s \u00eatre\nall\u00e9 quelque temps, je d\u00e9couvris \u00e0 mon grand ravissement une caverne\nnaturelle, o\u00f9 j\u2019ose dire que jamais sauvage ni quelque homme que ce\nsoit qui serait parvenu \u00e0 son ouverture n\u2019aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 assez hardi pour\np\u00e9n\u00e9trer, \u00e0 moins qu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt eu comme moi un besoin absolu d\u2019une\nretraite assur\u00e9e.\nL\u2019entr\u00e9e de cette caverne \u00e9tait au fond d\u2019un grand rocher, o\u00f9, par un\npur hasard,\u2014dirais-je si je n\u2019avais mille raisons d\u2019attribuer toutes\nces choses \u00e0 la Providence,\u2014je coupais de grosses branches d\u2019arbre\npour faire du charbon. Avant de poursuivre, je dois faire savoir\npourquoi je faisais ce charbon, ce que voici:\nJe craignais de faire de la fum\u00e9e autour de mon habitation, comme je\nl\u2019ai dit tant\u00f4t; cependant, comme je ne pouvais vivre sans faire cuire\nmon pain et ma viande, j\u2019avais donc imagin\u00e9 de faire br\u00fbler du bois\nsous des mottes de gazon, comme je l\u2019avais vu pratiquer en Angleterre.\nQuand il \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s d\u2019\u00eatre consum\u00e9, j\u2019\u00e9teignais le brasier et je\nconservais le charbon, pour l\u2019emporter chez moi et l\u2019employer sans\nrisque de fum\u00e9e \u00e0 tout ce qui r\u00e9clamait l\u2019usage du feu.\nMais que cela soit dit en passant. Tandis que l\u00e0 j\u2019abattais du bois,\nj\u2019avais donc aper\u00e7u derri\u00e8re l\u2019\u00e9pais branchage d\u2019un hallier une esp\u00e8ce\nde cavit\u00e9, dont je fus curieux de voir l\u2019int\u00e9rieur. Parvenu, non sans\ndifficult\u00e9, \u00e0 son embouchure, je trouvai qu\u2019il \u00e9tait assez spacieux,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire assez pour que je pusse m\u2019y tenir debout, moi et\npeut-\u00eatre une seconde personne; mais je dois avouer que je me retirai\navec plus de h\u00e2te que je n\u2019\u00e9tais entr\u00e9, lorsque, portant mes regards\nvers le fond de cet antre, qui \u00e9tait enti\u00e8rement obscur, j\u2019y vis deux\ngrands yeux brillants. \u00c9taient-ils de diable ou d\u2019homme, je ne savais;\nmais la sombre lueur de l\u2019embouchure de la caverne s\u2019y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissant,\nils \u00e9tincelaient comme deux \u00e9toiles.\nToutefois, apr\u00e8s une courte pause, je revins \u00e0 moi, me traitant\nmille fois de fou, et me disant que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas \u00e0 celui qui avait\nv\u00e9cu vingt ans tout seul dans cette \u00eele \u00e0 s\u2019effrayer du diable, et\nque je devais croire qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait rien dans cet antre de plus\neffroyable que moi-m\u00eame. L\u00e0-dessus, reprenant courage, je saisis\nun tison enflamm\u00e9 et me pr\u00e9cipitai dans la caverne avec ce brandon\n\u00e0 la main. Je n\u2019y eus pas fait trois pas que je fus presque aussi\neffray\u00e9 qu\u2019auparavant; car j\u2019entendis un profond soupir pareil \u00e0 celui\nd\u2019une \u00e2me en peine, puis un bruit entrecoup\u00e9 comme des paroles \u00e0\ndemi articul\u00e9es, puis encore un profond soupir. Je reculai tellement\nstup\u00e9fi\u00e9, qu\u2019une sueur froide me saisit, et que si j\u2019eusse eu mon\nchapeau sur ma t\u00eate, assur\u00e9ment mes cheveux l\u2019auraient jet\u00e9 \u00e0 terre.\nMais, rassemblant encore mes esprits du mieux qu\u2019il me fut possible,\net ranimant un peu mon courage en songeant que le pouvoir et la\npr\u00e9sence de Dieu r\u00e8gnent partout et partout pouvaient me prot\u00e9ger,\nje m\u2019avan\u00e7ai de nouveau, et \u00e0 la lueur de ma torche, que je tenais\nau-dessus de ma t\u00eate, je vis, gisant sur la terre, un vieux, un\nmonstrueux et \u00e9pouvantable bouc, semblant, comme on dit, lutter avec\nla mort: il se mourait de vieillesse.\nJe le poussai un peu pour voir s\u2019il serait possible de le faire\nsortir; il essaya de se lever, mais en vain. Alors je pensai qu\u2019il\npouvait fort bien rester l\u00e0, car de m\u00eame qu\u2019il m\u2019avait effray\u00e9, il\npourrait, tant qu\u2019il aurait un souffle de vie, effrayer les sauvages\ns\u2019il s\u2019en trouvait d\u2019assez hardis pour p\u00e9n\u00e9trer en ce repaire.\n[Illustration: Je le poussai un peu.]\nRevenu alors de mon trouble, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 regarder autour de moi\net je trouvai cette caverne fort petite: elle pouvait avoir environ\ndouze pieds; mais elle \u00e9tait sans figure r\u00e9guli\u00e8re, ni ronde ni\ncarr\u00e9e, car la main de la nature y avait seule travaill\u00e9. Je remarquai\naussi sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 le plus profond une ouverture qui s\u2019enfon\u00e7ait plus\navant, mais si basse, que je fus oblig\u00e9 de me tra\u00eener sur les mains\net sur les genoux pour y passer. O\u00f9 aboutissait-elle, je l\u2019ignorais.\nN\u2019ayant point de flambeau, je remis la partie \u00e0 une autre fois, et je\nr\u00e9solus de revenir le lendemain pourvu de chandelles et d\u2019un briquet\nque j\u2019avais fait avec une batterie de mousquet, dans le bassinet de\nlaquelle je mettais une pi\u00e8ce d\u2019artifice.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, le jour suivant je revins muni de six grosses\nchandelles de ma fa\u00e7on,\u2014car alors je m\u2019en fabriquais de tr\u00e8s bonnes\navec du suif de ch\u00e8vre;\u2014j\u2019allai \u00e0 l\u2019ouverture \u00e9troite, et je fus\noblig\u00e9 de ramper \u00e0 quatre pieds, comme je l\u2019ai dit, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\nl\u2019espace de dix verges: ce qui, je pense, \u00e9tait une tentative assez\nt\u00e9m\u00e9raire, puisque je ne savais pas jusqu\u2019o\u00f9 ce souterrain pouvait\naller, ni ce qu\u2019il y avait au bout. Quand j\u2019eus pass\u00e9 ce d\u00e9fil\u00e9, je\nme trouvai sous une vo\u00fbte d\u2019environ vingt pieds de hauteur. Je puis\naffirmer que, dans toute l\u2019\u00eele, il n\u2019y avait pas un spectacle plus\nmagnifique \u00e0 voir que les parois et le berceau de cette vo\u00fbte ou de\ncette caverne. Ils r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissaient mes deux chandelles de cent mille\nmani\u00e8res. Qu\u2019y avait-il dans le roc? \u00c9taient-ce des diamants ou\nd\u2019autres pierreries, ou de l\u2019or,\u2014ce que je suppose plus volontiers?\u2014je\nl\u2019ignorais.\nBien que tout \u00e0 fait sombre, c\u2019\u00e9tait la plus d\u00e9licieuse grotte qu\u2019on\npuisse se figurer. L\u2019aire en \u00e9tait unie et s\u00e8che et couverte d\u2019une\nsorte de gravier fin et mouvant. On n\u2019y voyait point d\u2019animaux\nimmondes, et il n\u2019y avait ni eau ni humidit\u00e9 sur les parois de la\nvo\u00fbte. La seule difficult\u00e9, c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u2019entr\u00e9e; difficult\u00e9 que toutefois\nje consid\u00e9rais comme un avantage, puisqu\u2019elle en faisait une place\nforte, un abri s\u00fbr dont j\u2019avais besoin. Je fus vraiment ravi de\nma d\u00e9couverte, et je r\u00e9solus de transporter sans d\u00e9lai dans cette\nretraite tout ce dont la conservation m\u2019importait le plus, surtout ma\npoudre et toutes mes armes de r\u00e9serve, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire deux de mes trois\nfusils de chasse et trois de mes mousquets: j\u2019en avais huit. A mon\nch\u00e2teau, je n\u2019en laissai donc que cinq, qui sur ma redoute ext\u00e9rieure\ndemeuraient toujours braqu\u00e9s comme des pi\u00e8ces de canon, et que je\npouvais \u00e9galement prendre en cas d\u2019exp\u00e9dition.\nPour ce transport de mes munitions, je fus oblig\u00e9 d\u2019ouvrir le baril\nde poudre que j\u2019avais retir\u00e9 de la mer et qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mouill\u00e9. Je\ntrouvai que l\u2019eau avait p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de tous c\u00f4t\u00e9s \u00e0 la profondeur de trois\nou quatre pouces, et que la poudre d\u00e9tremp\u00e9e avait, en se s\u00e9chant,\nform\u00e9 une cro\u00fbte qui avait conserv\u00e9 l\u2019int\u00e9rieur comme un fruit dans\nsa coque; de sorte qu\u2019il y avait bien au centre du tonneau soixante\nlivres de bonne poudre: ce fut une agr\u00e9able d\u00e9couverte pour moi en ce\nmoment. Je l\u2019emportai toute \u00e0 ma caverne, sauf deux ou trois livres\nque je gardai dans mon ch\u00e2teau, de peur de n\u2019importe quelle surprise.\nJ\u2019y portai aussi tout le plomb que j\u2019avais r\u00e9serv\u00e9 pour me faire des\nballes.\nJe me croyais alors semblable \u00e0 ces anciens g\u00e9ants qui vivaient,\ndit-on, dans des cavernes et des trous de rocher inaccessibles; car\nj\u2019\u00e9tais persuad\u00e9 que, r\u00e9fugi\u00e9 en ce lieu, je ne pourrais \u00eatre d\u00e9pist\u00e9\npar les sauvages, fussent-ils cinq cents \u00e0 me pourchasser; ou que,\ns\u2019ils le faisaient, ils ne voudraient point se hasarder \u00e0 m\u2019y donner\nl\u2019attaque.\nLe vieux bouc que j\u2019avais trouv\u00e9 expirant mourut \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e de la\ncaverne le lendemain du jour o\u00f9 j\u2019en fis la d\u00e9couverte. Il me parut\nplus commode, au lieu de le tirer dehors, de creuser un grand trou,\nde l\u2019y jeter et de le recouvrir de terre. Je l\u2019enterrai ainsi pour me\npr\u00e9server de toute odeur infecte.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors dans la vingt-troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de ma r\u00e9sidence dans cette\n\u00eele, et si accoutum\u00e9 \u00e0 ce s\u00e9jour et \u00e0 mon genre de vie, que si j\u2019eusse\neu l\u2019assurance que les sauvages ne viendraient point me troubler,\nj\u2019aurais volontiers sign\u00e9 la capitulation de passer l\u00e0 le reste de\nmes jours jusqu\u2019au dernier moment, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je fusse gisant,\net que je mourusse comme le vieux bouc dans la caverne. Je m\u2019\u00e9tais\nm\u00e9nag\u00e9 quelques distractions et quelques amusements qui faisaient\npasser le temps plus vite et plus agr\u00e9ablement qu\u2019autrefois. J\u2019avais,\ncomme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, appris \u00e0 parler \u00e0 mon POLL; et il le faisait\nsi famili\u00e8rement, et il articulait si distinctement, si pleinement,\nque c\u2019\u00e9tait pour moi un grand plaisir de l\u2019entendre. Il v\u00e9cut avec moi\npas moins de vingt-six ans: combien v\u00e9cut-il ensuite? je l\u2019ignore. On\npr\u00e9tend au Br\u00e9sil que ces animaux peuvent vivre cent ans. Peut-\u00eatre\nquelques-uns de mes perroquets existent-ils encore et appellent-ils\nencore en ce moment le _pauvre Robin Cruso\u00e9_. Je ne souhaite pas qu\u2019un\nAnglais ait le malheur d\u2019aborder mon \u00eele et de les y entendre jaser;\nmais si cela advenait, assur\u00e9ment il croirait que c\u2019est le diable. Mon\nchien me fut un tr\u00e8s agr\u00e9able et fid\u00e8le compagnon pendant seize ans:\nil mourut de pure vieillesse. Quant \u00e0 mes chats, ils multipli\u00e8rent,\ncomme je l\u2019ai dit, et \u00e0 un tel point que je fus d\u2019abord oblig\u00e9 d\u2019en\ntuer plusieurs pour les emp\u00eacher de me d\u00e9vorer moi et tout ce que\nj\u2019avais. Mais enfin, apr\u00e8s la mort des deux vieux que j\u2019avais apport\u00e9s\ndu navire, les ayant pendant quelque temps continuellement chass\u00e9s\net laiss\u00e9s sans nourriture, ils s\u2019enfuirent tous dans les bois et\ndevinrent sauvages, except\u00e9 deux ou trois favoris que je gardai aupr\u00e8s\nde moi. Ils faisaient partie de ma famille; mais j\u2019eus toujours grand\nsoin, quand ils mettaient bas, de noyer tous leurs petits. En outre,\nje gardai toujours autour de moi deux ou trois chevreaux domestiques\nque j\u2019avais accoutum\u00e9s \u00e0 manger dans ma main, et deux autres\nperroquets qui jasaient assez bien pour dire _Robin Cruso\u00e9_, pas aussi\nbien toutefois que le premier: \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, pour eux je ne m\u2019\u00e9tais\npas donn\u00e9 autant de peine. J\u2019avais aussi quelques oiseaux de mer\napprivois\u00e9s dont je ne sais pas les noms; je les avais attrap\u00e9s sur\nle rivage et leur avais coup\u00e9 les ailes. Les petits pieux que j\u2019avais\nplant\u00e9s en avant de la muraille de mon ch\u00e2teau \u00e9tant devenus un bocage\n\u00e9pais et touffu, ces oiseaux y nichaient et y pondaient parmi les\narbrisseaux, ce qui \u00e9tait fort agr\u00e9able pour moi. En r\u00e9sum\u00e9, comme je\nle disais tant\u00f4t, j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 fort content de la vie que je menais si\nelle n\u2019avait point \u00e9t\u00e9 troubl\u00e9e par la crainte des sauvages.\nMais il en \u00e9tait ordonn\u00e9 autrement. Pour tous ceux qui liront mon\nhistoire il ne saurait \u00eatre hors de propos de faire cette juste\nobservation. Que de fois n\u2019arrive-t-il pas, dans le cours de notre\nvie, que le mal que nous cherchons le plus \u00e0 \u00e9viter, et qui nous\npara\u00eet le plus terrible quand nous y sommes tomb\u00e9s, soit la porte de\nnotre d\u00e9livrance, l\u2019unique moyen de sortir de notre affliction! Je\npourrais en trouver beaucoup d\u2019exemples dans le cours de mon \u00e9trange\nvie; mais jamais cela n\u2019a \u00e9t\u00e9 plus remarquable que dans les derni\u00e8res\nann\u00e9es de ma r\u00e9sidence solitaire dans cette \u00eele.\nCe fut au mois de d\u00e9cembre de la vingt-troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon s\u00e9jour,\ncomme je l\u2019ai dit, \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9poque du solstice m\u00e9ridional,\u2014car je ne puis\nl\u2019appeler solstice d\u2019hiver,\u2014temps particulier de ma moisson, qui\nm\u2019appelait presque toujours aux champs, qu\u2019un matin, sortant de tr\u00e8s\nbonne heure, avant m\u00eame le point du jour, je fus surpris de voir la\nlueur d\u2019un feu sur le rivage, \u00e0 la distance d\u2019environ deux milles,\nvers l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele o\u00f9 j\u2019avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 observ\u00e9 que les sauvages\n\u00e9taient venus; mais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait point cette fois sur l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, mais\nbien, \u00e0 ma grande affliction, sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 que j\u2019habitais.\n[Illustration: ... de voir la lueur d\u2019un feu sur le rivage.]\nA cette vue, horriblement effray\u00e9, je m\u2019arr\u00eatai court, et n\u2019osai pas\nsortir de mon bocage, de peur d\u2019\u00eatre surpris; encore n\u2019y \u00e9tais-je\npas tranquille: car j\u2019\u00e9tais plein de l\u2019appr\u00e9hension que, si les\nsauvages, en r\u00f4dant, venaient \u00e0 trouver ma moisson pendante ou coup\u00e9e,\nou n\u2019importe quels travaux et quelles cultures, ils en concluraient\nimm\u00e9diatement que l\u2019\u00eele \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e et ne s\u2019arr\u00eateraient point\nqu\u2019ils ne m\u2019eussent d\u00e9couvert. Dans cette angoisse, je retournai\ndroit \u00e0 mon ch\u00e2teau; et, ayant donn\u00e9 \u00e0 toutes les choses ext\u00e9rieures\nun aspect aussi sauvage, aussi naturel que possible, je retirai mon\n\u00e9chelle apr\u00e8s moi.\nAlors je m\u2019armai et me mis en \u00e9tat de d\u00e9fense. Je chargeai toute mon\nartillerie, comme je l\u2019appelais, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire mes mousquets mont\u00e9s\nsur mon nouveau retranchement, et tous mes pistolets, bien r\u00e9solu \u00e0\ncombattre jusqu\u2019au dernier soupir. Je n\u2019oubliai pas de me recommander\navec ferveur \u00e0 la protection divine et de supplier Dieu de me d\u00e9livrer\ndes mains des barbares. Dans cette situation, ayant attendu deux\nheures, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre fort impatient de savoir ce qui se passait\nau dehors: je n\u2019avais point d\u2019espion \u00e0 envoyer \u00e0 la d\u00e9couverte.\nApr\u00e8s \u00eatre demeur\u00e9 l\u00e0 encore quelque temps, et apr\u00e8s avoir song\u00e9\n\u00e0 ce que j\u2019avais \u00e0 faire en cette occasion, il me fut impossible\nde supporter davantage l\u2019ignorance o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais. Appliquant donc mon\n\u00e9chelle sur le flanc du rocher o\u00f9 se trouvait une plate-forme, puis\nla retirant apr\u00e8s moi et la repla\u00e7ant de nouveau, je parvins au\nsommet de la colline. L\u00e0, couch\u00e9 \u00e0 plat ventre sur la terre, je pris\nma longue-vue, que j\u2019avais apport\u00e9e \u00e0 dessein, et je la braquai. Je\nvis aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas moins de neuf sauvages assis en rond\nautour d\u2019un petit feu, non pour se chauffer, car la chaleur \u00e9tait\nextr\u00eame, mais, comme je le supposai, pour appr\u00eater quelque atroce mets\nde chair humaine qu\u2019ils avaient apport\u00e9e avec eux, ou morte ou vive,\nc\u2019est ce que je ne pus savoir.\nIls avaient avec eux deux pirogues hal\u00e9es sur le rivage; et, comme\nc\u2019\u00e9tait alors le temps du jusant, ils me sembl\u00e8rent attendre le\nretour du flot pour s\u2019en retourner. Il n\u2019est pas facile de se figurer\nle trouble o\u00f9 me jeta ce spectacle, et surtout leur venue si proche\nde moi et sur mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele. Mais quand je consid\u00e9rai que leur\nd\u00e9barquement devait toujours avoir lieu au jusant, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nretrouver un peu de calme, certain de pouvoir sortir en toute s\u00fbret\u00e9\npendant le temps du flot, si personne n\u2019avait abord\u00e9 au rivage\nauparavant. Cette observation faite, je me remis \u00e0 travailler \u00e0 ma\nmoisson avec plus de tranquillit\u00e9.\nLa chose arriva comme je l\u2019avais pr\u00e9vu; car aussit\u00f4t que la mar\u00e9e\nporta \u00e0 l\u2019ouest, je les vis tous monter dans leurs pirogues et tous\nramer ou pagayer, comme cela s\u2019appelle. J\u2019aurais d\u00fb faire remarquer\nqu\u2019une heure environ avant de partir ils s\u2019\u00e9taient mis \u00e0 danser, et\nqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019aide de ma longue-vue j\u2019avais pu apercevoir leurs postures et\nleurs gesticulations. Je reconnus, par la plus minutieuse observation,\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient enti\u00e8rement nus, sans le moindre v\u00eatement sur le corps;\nmais \u00e9taient-ce des hommes ou des femmes? il me fut impossible de le\ndistinguer.\nSit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils furent embarqu\u00e9s et partis, je sortis avec deux mousquets\nsur mes \u00e9paules, deux pistolets \u00e0 ma ceinture, mon grand sabre sans\nfourreau \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9, et avec toute la diligence dont j\u2019\u00e9tais capable,\nje me rendis \u00e0 la colline o\u00f9 j\u2019avais d\u00e9couvert la premi\u00e8re de toutes\nles traces. D\u00e8s que j\u2019y fus arriv\u00e9, ce qui ne fut qu\u2019au bout de\ndeux heures,\u2014car je ne pouvais aller vite charg\u00e9 d\u2019armes comme je\nl\u2019\u00e9tais,\u2014je vis qu\u2019il y avait eu, en ce lieu, trois autres pirogues\nde sauvages; et, regardant au loin, je les aper\u00e7us toutes ensemble\nfaisant route pour le continent.\nCe fut surtout pour moi un terrible spectacle quand, en descendant au\nrivage, je vis les traces de leur affreux festin, du sang, des os,\ndes tron\u00e7ons de chair humaine qu\u2019ils avaient mang\u00e9e et d\u00e9vor\u00e9e avec\njoie. Je fus si rempli d\u2019indignation \u00e0 cette vue, que je recommen\u00e7ai\n\u00e0 m\u00e9diter le massacre des premiers que je rencontrerais, quels qu\u2019ils\npussent \u00eatre et quelque nombreux qu\u2019ils fussent.\nIl me para\u00eet \u00e9vident que leurs visites dans l\u2019\u00eele devaient \u00eatre\nassez rares, car il se passa plus de quinze mois avant qu\u2019ils ne\nrevinssent, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que durant tout ce temps je n\u2019en revis ni\ntrace ni vestige. Dans la saison des pluies, il \u00e9tait s\u00fbr qu\u2019ils ne\npouvaient sortir de chez eux, du moins pour aller si loin. Cependant,\ndurant cet intervalle, je vivais mis\u00e9rablement: l\u2019appr\u00e9hension d\u2019\u00eatre\npris \u00e0 l\u2019improviste m\u2019assi\u00e9geait sans rel\u00e2che; d\u2019o\u00f9 je d\u00e9duis que\nl\u2019expectative du mal est plus am\u00e8re que le mal lui-m\u00eame, quand surtout\non ne peut se d\u00e9faire de cette attente ou de ces appr\u00e9hensions.\nPendant tout ce temps-l\u00e0 mon humeur meurtri\u00e8re ne m\u2019abandonna pas,\net j\u2019employais la plupart des heures du jour, qui auraient pu \u00eatre\nbeaucoup mieux d\u00e9pens\u00e9es, \u00e0 imaginer comment je les circonviendrais\net les assaillirais \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re rencontre, surtout s\u2019ils \u00e9taient\ndivis\u00e9s en deux parties comme la premi\u00e8re fois. Je ne consid\u00e9rais\nnullement que si j\u2019en tuais une bande, je suppose de dix ou douze, et\nque le lendemain, la semaine ou le mois suivant, j\u2019en tuasse encore\nd\u2019autres, et ainsi de suite \u00e0 l\u2019infini, je deviendrais aussi meurtrier\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient mangeurs d\u2019hommes, et peut-\u00eatre plus encore.\nJ\u2019usais ma vie dans une grande perplexit\u00e9 et une grande anxi\u00e9t\u00e9\nd\u2019esprit; je m\u2019attendais \u00e0 tomber un jour ou l\u2019autre entre les mains\nde ces impitoyables cr\u00e9atures. Si je me hasardais quelquefois dehors,\nce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019en promenant mes regards inquiets autour de moi et avec\ntout le soin, toute la pr\u00e9caution imaginable. Je sentis alors, \u00e0 ma\ngrande consolation, combien c\u2019\u00e9tait chose heureuse pour moi que je me\nfusse pourvu d\u2019un troupeau ou d\u2019une harde de ch\u00e8vres; car je n\u2019osais\nen aucune occasion tirer mon fusil, surtout du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele fr\u00e9quent\u00e9\npar les sauvages, de peur de leur donner une alerte. Peut-\u00eatre se\nseraient-ils enfuis d\u2019abord; mais bien certainement ils seraient\nrevenus au bout de quelques jours avec deux ou trois cents pirogues:\nje savais ce \u00e0 quoi je devais m\u2019attendre alors.\nN\u00e9anmoins je fus un an et trois mois avant d\u2019en revoir aucun; mais\ncomment en revis-je? c\u2019est ce dont il sera parl\u00e9 bient\u00f4t. Il est\npossible que durant cet intervalle ils soient revenus deux ou trois\nfois, mais ils ne s\u00e9journ\u00e8rent pas, ou au moins n\u2019en eus-je point\nconnaissance. Ce fut donc, d\u2019apr\u00e8s mon plus exact calcul, au mois de\nmai et dans la vingt-quatri\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon isolement que j\u2019eus avec\neux l\u2019\u00e9trange rencontre dont il sera discouru en son lieu.\nLa perturbation de mon \u00e2me fut tr\u00e8s grande pendant ces quinze ou seize\nmois. J\u2019avais le sommeil inquiet, je faisais des songes effrayants, et\nsouvent je me r\u00e9veillais en sursaut. Le jour, des troubles violents\naccablaient mon esprit; la nuit, je r\u00eavais fr\u00e9quemment que je tuais\ndes sauvages, et je pesais les raisons qui pouvaient me justifier de\ncet acte.\u2014Mais laissons tout cela pour quelque temps. C\u2019\u00e9tait vers\nle milieu de mai, le seizi\u00e8me jour, je pense, autant que je pus m\u2019en\nrapporter \u00e0 mon pauvre calendrier de bois o\u00f9 je faisais toujours mes\nmarques; c\u2019\u00e9tait, dis-je, le seize mai: un violent ouragan souffla\ntout le jour, accompagn\u00e9 de quantit\u00e9 d\u2019\u00e9clairs et de coups de\ntonnerre. La nuit suivante fut \u00e9pouvantable. Je ne sais plus quel en\n\u00e9tait le motif particulier, mais je lisais la Bible, et faisais de\ns\u00e9rieuses r\u00e9flexions sur ma situation, quand je fus surpris par un\nbruit semblable \u00e0 un coup de canon tir\u00e9 en mer.\nCe fut pour moi une surprise d\u2019une autre nature enti\u00e8rement diff\u00e9rente\nde toutes celles que j\u2019avais eues jusqu\u2019alors, car elle \u00e9veilla en\nmon esprit de tout autres id\u00e9es. Je me levai avec toute la h\u00e2te\nimaginable, et en un tour de main j\u2019appliquai mon \u00e9chelle contre le\nrocher; je montai \u00e0 mi-hauteur, puis je la retirai apr\u00e8s moi, je la\nrepla\u00e7ai et j\u2019escaladai jusqu\u2019au sommet. Au m\u00eame instant, une flamme\nme pr\u00e9para \u00e0 entendre un second coup de canon, qui en effet au bout\nd\u2019une demi-minute frappa mon oreille. Je reconnus par le son qu\u2019il\ndevait \u00eatre dans cette partie de la mer o\u00f9 ma pirogue avait \u00e9t\u00e9\ndross\u00e9e par les courants.\nJe songeai aussit\u00f4t que ce devait \u00eatre un vaisseau en p\u00e9ril, qui,\nallant de conserve avec quelque autre navire, tirait son canon en\nsignal de d\u00e9tresse pour en obtenir du secours, et j\u2019eus sur-le-champ\nla pr\u00e9sence d\u2019esprit de penser que bien que je ne pusse l\u2019assister,\npeut-\u00eatre lui m\u2019assisterait-il. Je rassemblai donc tout le bois sec\nqui se trouvait aux environs, et j\u2019en fis un assez beau monceau\nque j\u2019allumai sur la colline. Le bois \u00e9tant sec, il s\u2019enflamma\nfacilement, et malgr\u00e9 la violence du vent il flamba \u00e0 merveille:\nj\u2019eus alors la certitude que, si toutefois c\u2019\u00e9tait un navire, ce feu\nserait immanquablement aper\u00e7u; et il le fut sans aucun doute, car\n\u00e0 peine mon bois se fut-il embras\u00e9 que j\u2019entendis un troisi\u00e8me coup\nde canon, qui fut suivi de plusieurs autres, venant tous du m\u00eame\npoint. J\u2019entretins mon feu toute la nuit jusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019aube, et quand il\nfit grand jour et que l\u2019air se fut \u00e9clairci, je vis quelque chose en\nmer, tout \u00e0 fait \u00e0 l\u2019est de l\u2019\u00eele. \u00c9tait-ce un navire ou des d\u00e9bris\nde navire? je ne pus le distinguer, voire m\u00eame avec mes lunettes\nd\u2019approche, la distance \u00e9tant trop grande et le temps encore trop\nbrumeux, du moins en mer.\nDurant tout le jour je regardai fr\u00e9quemment cet objet: je m\u2019aper\u00e7us\nbient\u00f4t qu\u2019il ne se mouvait pas, et j\u2019en conclus que ce devait \u00eatre\nun navire \u00e0 l\u2019ancre. Br\u00fblant de m\u2019en assurer, comme on peut bien le\ncroire, je pris mon fusil \u00e0 la main, et je courus vers la partie\nm\u00e9ridionale de l\u2019\u00eele, vers les rochers o\u00f9 j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 autrefois\nentra\u00een\u00e9 par les courants; je grimpai \u00e0 leur sommet, et, le temps\n\u00e9tant alors parfaitement clair, je vis distinctement, mais \u00e0 mon grand\nchagrin, la carcasse d\u2019un vaisseau \u00e9chou\u00e9 pendant la nuit sur les\nroches \u00e0 fleur d\u2019eau que j\u2019avais trouv\u00e9es en me mettant en mer avec ma\nchaloupe, et qui, r\u00e9sistant \u00e0 la violence du courant, faisaient cette\nesp\u00e8ce de contre-courant ou remous par lequel j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9livr\u00e9 de\nla position la plus d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e et la plus d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rante o\u00f9 je me sois\ntrouv\u00e9 de ma vie.\nC\u2019est ainsi que ce qui est le salut de l\u2019un fait la perte de l\u2019autre;\ncar il est probable que ce navire, quel qu\u2019il f\u00fbt, n\u2019ayant aucune\nconnaissance de ces roches enti\u00e8rement cach\u00e9es sous l\u2019eau, y avait \u00e9t\u00e9\npouss\u00e9 durant la nuit par un vent violent soufflant de l\u2019est et de\nl\u2019est-nord-est. Si l\u2019\u00e9quipage avait d\u00e9couvert l\u2019\u00eele, ce que je ne puis\nsupposer, il aurait n\u00e9cessairement tent\u00e9 de se sauver \u00e0 terre dans\nla chaloupe.\u2014Les coups de canon qu\u2019il avait tir\u00e9s, surtout en voyant\nmon feu, comme je l\u2019imaginais, me remplirent la t\u00eate d\u2019une foule de\nconjectures: tant\u00f4t je pensais qu\u2019apercevant mon fanal il s\u2019\u00e9tait\njet\u00e9 dans la chaloupe pour t\u00e2cher de gagner le rivage, mais que la\nlame \u00e9tant tr\u00e8s forte, il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9; tant\u00f4t je m\u2019imaginais\nqu\u2019il avait commenc\u00e9 par perdre sa chaloupe, ce qui arrive souvent\nlorsque les flots, se brisant sur un navire, forcent les matelots\n\u00e0 d\u00e9foncer et \u00e0 mettre en pi\u00e8ces leur embarcation ou \u00e0 la jeter\npar-dessus le bord. D\u2019autres fois je me figurais que le vaisseau ou\nles vaisseaux qui allaient de conserve avec celui-ci, avertis par\nles signaux de d\u00e9tresse, avaient recueilli et emmen\u00e9 cet \u00e9quipage.\nEnfin, dans d\u2019autres moments je pensais que tous les hommes du bord\n\u00e9taient descendus dans leur chaloupe, et que, dross\u00e9s par le courant\nqui m\u2019avait autrefois entra\u00een\u00e9, ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9s dans le\ngrand Oc\u00e9an o\u00f9 ils ne trouveraient rien que la mis\u00e8re et la mort, o\u00f9\npeut-\u00eatre ils seraient r\u00e9duits par la faim \u00e0 se manger les uns les\nautres.\nMais, comme cela n\u2019\u00e9tait que des conjectures, je ne pouvais, en\nma position, que consid\u00e9rer l\u2019infortune de ces pauvres gens et\nm\u2019apitoyer. Ce qui eut sur moi la bonne influence de me rendre de plus\nen plus reconnaissant envers Dieu, dont la providence avait pris dans\nmon malheur un soin si g\u00e9n\u00e9reux de moi, que, de deux \u00e9quipages perdus\nsur ces c\u00f4tes, moi seul avais \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9serv\u00e9. J\u2019appris de l\u00e0 encore\nqu\u2019il est rare que Dieu nous plonge dans une condition si basse, dans\nune mis\u00e8re si grande, que nous ne puissions trouver quelque sujet de\ngratitude, et trouver de nos semblables jet\u00e9s dans des circonstances\npires que les n\u00f4tres.\nTel \u00e9tait le sort de cet \u00e9quipage, dont il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas probable\nqu\u2019aucun homme e\u00fbt \u00e9chapp\u00e9,\u2014rien ne pouvant faire croire qu\u2019il n\u2019avait\npas p\u00e9ri tout entier,\u2014\u00e0 moins de supposer qu\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9 par\nquelque autre b\u00e2timent allant avec lui de conserve; mais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait\nqu\u2019une pure possibilit\u00e9; car je n\u2019avais vu aucun signe, aucune\napparence de rien de semblable.\nJe ne puis trouver d\u2019assez \u00e9nergiques paroles pour exprimer l\u2019ardent\nd\u00e9sir, l\u2019\u00e9trange envie que ce naufrage \u00e9veilla en mon \u00e2me et qui\nsouvent s\u2019en exhalait ainsi:\u2014\u00abOh! si une ou deux, une seule \u00e2me avait\npu \u00eatre sauv\u00e9e du navire, avait pu en r\u00e9chapper, afin que je pusse\navoir un compagnon, un semblable, pour parler et pour vivre avec\nmoi!\u00bb\u2014Dans tout le cours de ma vie solitaire je ne d\u00e9sirai jamais\nsi ardemment la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des hommes, et je n\u2019\u00e9prouvai jamais un plus\nprofond regret d\u2019en \u00eatre s\u00e9par\u00e9.\nIl y a dans nos passions certaines sources secr\u00e8tes qui, lorsqu\u2019elles\nsont vivifi\u00e9es par des objets pr\u00e9sents ou absents, mais rendus\npr\u00e9sents \u00e0 notre esprit par la puissance de notre imagination,\nentra\u00eenent notre \u00e2me avec tant d\u2019imp\u00e9tuosit\u00e9 vers les objets de ses\nd\u00e9sirs, que la non-possession en devient vraiment insupportable.\nTelle \u00e9tait l\u2019ardeur de mes souhaits pour la conservation d\u2019un seul\nhomme, que je r\u00e9p\u00e9tai, je crois, mille fois ces mots:\u2014\u00abOh! qu\u2019un\nhomme ait \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9, oh! qu\u2019un seul homme ait \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9!\u00bb\u2014J\u2019\u00e9tais si\nviolemment irrit\u00e9 par ce d\u00e9sir en pronon\u00e7ant ces paroles, que mes\nmains se saisissaient, que mes doigts pressaient la paume de mes mains\net avec tant de rage que si j\u2019eusse tenu quelque chose de fragile je\nl\u2019eusse bris\u00e9 involontairement; mes dents claquaient dans ma bouche et\nse serraient si fortement que je fus quelque temps avant de pouvoir\nles s\u00e9parer.\nQue les naturalistes expliquent ces choses, leur raison et leur\nnature; quant \u00e0 moi, je ne puis que consigner ce fait, qui me parut\ntoujours surprenant et dont je ne pus jamais me rendre compte. C\u2019\u00e9tait\nsans doute l\u2019effet de la fougue de mon d\u00e9sir et de l\u2019\u00e9nergie de mes\nid\u00e9es me repr\u00e9sentant toute la consolation que j\u2019aurais puis\u00e9e dans la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9 d\u2019un chr\u00e9tien comme moi.\nMais cela ne devait pas \u00eatre: leur destin\u00e9e ou la mienne ou toutes\ndeux peut-\u00eatre l\u2019interdisaient; car jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re ann\u00e9e de mon\ns\u00e9jour dans l\u2019\u00eele j\u2019ai ignor\u00e9 si quelqu\u2019un s\u2019\u00e9tait ou ne s\u2019\u00e9tait pas\nsauv\u00e9 du naufrage; j\u2019eus seulement, quelques jours apr\u00e8s, l\u2019affliction\nde voir le corps d\u2019un jeune gar\u00e7on noy\u00e9 jet\u00e9 sur le rivage, \u00e0\nl\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, \u00e0 peu de distance du vaisseau naufrag\u00e9. Il\nn\u2019avait pour tout v\u00eatement qu\u2019une veste de matelot, un cale\u00e7on de\ntoile ouvert aux genoux et une chemise bleue. Rien ne put me faire\ndeviner quelle \u00e9tait sa nation: il n\u2019avait dans ses poches que deux\npi\u00e8ces de huit et une pipe \u00e0 tabac qui avait dix fois plus de valeur\npour moi.\n[Illustration: ... de voir le corps d\u2019un jeune gar\u00e7on.]\nLa mer \u00e9tait calme alors, et j\u2019avais grande envie de m\u2019aventurer dans\nma pirogue jusqu\u2019au navire. Je ne doutais nullement que je pusse\ntrouver \u00e0 bord quelque chose pour mon utilit\u00e9; mais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas l\u00e0\nle motif qui m\u2019y portait le plus: j\u2019y \u00e9tais entra\u00een\u00e9 par la pens\u00e9e que\nje trouverais peut-\u00eatre quelque cr\u00e9ature dont je pourrais sauver la\nvie, et par l\u00e0 r\u00e9conforter la mienne au plus haut degr\u00e9. Cette pens\u00e9e\nme tenait tellement au c\u0153ur, que je n\u2019avais de repos ni jour ni nuit,\net qu\u2019il fallut que je me risquasse \u00e0 aller \u00e0 bord de ce vaisseau. Je\nm\u2019abandonnai donc \u00e0 la providence de Dieu, persuad\u00e9 que j\u2019\u00e9tais qu\u2019une\nimpulsion si forte, \u00e0 laquelle je ne pouvais r\u00e9sister, devait venir\nd\u2019une invisible direction, et que je serais coupable envers moi si je\nne le faisais point.\nSous le coup de cette impression, je regagnai \u00e0 grands pas mon\nch\u00e2teau, afin de pr\u00e9parer tout pour mon voyage. Je pris une bonne\nquantit\u00e9 de pain, un grand pot d\u2019eau fra\u00eeche, une boussole pour\nme gouverner, une bouteille de _rhum_,\u2014j\u2019en avais encore beaucoup\nen r\u00e9serve,\u2014et une pleine corbeille de raisins. Charg\u00e9 ainsi, je\nretournai \u00e0 ma pirogue, je vidai l\u2019eau qui s\u2019y trouvait, je la mis \u00e0\nflot, et j\u2019y d\u00e9posai toute ma cargaison. Je revins ensuite chez moi\nprendre une seconde charge, compos\u00e9e d\u2019un grand sac de riz, de mon\nparasol\u2014pour placer au-dessus de ma t\u00eate et me donner de l\u2019ombre,\u2014d\u2019un\nsecond pot d\u2019eau fra\u00eeche, de deux douzaines environ de mes petits\npains ou g\u00e2teaux d\u2019orge, d\u2019une bouteille de lait de ch\u00e8vre et d\u2019un\nfromage. Je portai tout cela \u00e0 mon embarcation, non sans beaucoup de\npeine et de sueur. Ayant pri\u00e9 Dieu de diriger mon voyage, je me mis\nen route, et, ramant ou pagayant le long du rivage, je parvins enfin\n\u00e0 l\u2019extr\u00eame pointe de l\u2019\u00eele sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 nord-est. L\u00e0, il s\u2019agissait\nde se lancer dans l\u2019Oc\u00e9an, de s\u2019aventurer ou de ne pas s\u2019aventurer.\nJe regardai les courants rapides qui \u00e0 quelque distance r\u00e9gnaient des\ndeux c\u00f4t\u00e9s de l\u2019\u00eele. Le souvenir des dangers que j\u2019avais courus me\nrendit ce spectacle bien terrible, et le c\u0153ur commen\u00e7a \u00e0 me manquer;\ncar je pressentis que si un de ces courants m\u2019entra\u00eenait, je serais\nemport\u00e9 en haute mer, peut-\u00eatre hors de la vue de mon \u00eele; et\nqu\u2019alors, comme ma pirogue \u00e9tait fort l\u00e9g\u00e8re, pour peu qu\u2019un joli\nfrais s\u2019\u00e9lev\u00e2t, j\u2019\u00e9tais in\u00e9vitablement perdu.\nCes pens\u00e9es oppress\u00e8rent tellement mon \u00e2me, que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nabandonner mon entreprise: je halai ma barque dans une crique du\nrivage, je gagnai un petit tertre et je m\u2019y assis inquiet et pensif,\nflottant entre la crainte et le d\u00e9sir de faire mon voyage. Tandis\nque j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, je m\u2019aper\u00e7us que la mar\u00e9e avait chang\u00e9 et\nque le flot montait, ce qui rendait pour quelque temps mon d\u00e9part\nimpraticable. Il me vint alors \u00e0 l\u2019esprit de monter sur la butte la\nplus haute que je pourrais trouver, et d\u2019observer les mouvements de\nla mar\u00e9e pendant le flux, afin de juger si, entra\u00een\u00e9 par l\u2019un de ces\ncourants, je ne pourrais pas \u00eatre ramen\u00e9 par l\u2019autre avec la m\u00eame\nrapidit\u00e9. Cela ne me fut pas plus t\u00f4t entr\u00e9 dans la t\u00eate, que je jetai\nmes regards sur un monticule qui dominait suffisamment les deux c\u00f4tes,\net d\u2019o\u00f9 je vis clairement la direction de la mar\u00e9e et la route que\nj\u2019avais \u00e0 suivre pour mon retour: le courant du jusant sortait du c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde la pointe sud de l\u2019\u00eele, le courant du flot rentrait du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du\nnord. Tout ce que j\u2019avais \u00e0 faire pour op\u00e9rer mon retour \u00e9tait donc de\nserrer la pointe septentrionale de l\u2019\u00eele.\nEnhardi par cette observation, je r\u00e9solus de partir le lendemain matin\navec le commencement de la mar\u00e9e, ce que je fis en effet apr\u00e8s avoir\nrepos\u00e9 la nuit dans mon canot sous la grande houppelande dont j\u2019ai\nfait mention. Je gouvernai premi\u00e8rement plein nord, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que\nje me sentisse soulev\u00e9 par le courant qui portait \u00e0 l\u2019est, et qui\nm\u2019entra\u00eena \u00e0 une grande distance, sans cependant me d\u00e9sorienter, ainsi\nque l\u2019avait fait autrefois le courant sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 sud, et sans m\u2019\u00f4ter\ntoute la direction de ma pirogue. Comme je faisais un bon sillage avec\nma pagaie, j\u2019allai droit au navire \u00e9chou\u00e9, et en moins de deux heures\nje l\u2019atteignis.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait un triste spectacle \u00e0 voir! Le b\u00e2timent, qui me parut espagnol\npar sa construction, \u00e9tait fich\u00e9 et enclav\u00e9 entre deux roches; la\npoupe et la hanche avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 mises en pi\u00e8ces par la mer; et, comme\nle gaillard d\u2019avant avait donn\u00e9 contre les rochers avec une violence\nextr\u00eame, le grand m\u00e2t et le m\u00e2t de misaine s\u2019\u00e9taient bris\u00e9s au ras du\npied; mais le beaupr\u00e9 \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 en bon \u00e9tat, et l\u2019avant et l\u2019\u00e9peron\nparaissaient fermes.\u2014Lorsque je me fus approch\u00e9, un chien parut sur le\ntillac: me voyant venir, il se mit \u00e0 japper et \u00e0 aboyer. Aussit\u00f4t que\nje l\u2019appelai, il sauta \u00e0 la mer pour venir \u00e0 moi, et je le pris dans\nma barque. Le trouvant \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 mort de faim et de soif, je lui donnai\nun de mes pains qu\u2019il engloutit comme un loup vorace ayant je\u00fbn\u00e9\nquinze jours dans la neige; ensuite je donnai de l\u2019eau fra\u00eeche \u00e0 cette\npauvre b\u00eate, qui, si je l\u2019avais laiss\u00e9e faire, aurait bu jusqu\u2019\u00e0 en\ncrever.\nApr\u00e8s cela, j\u2019allai \u00e0 bord. La premi\u00e8re chose que j\u2019y rencontrai ce\nfut, dans la cuisine, sur le gaillard d\u2019avant, deux hommes noy\u00e9s et\nqui se tenaient embrass\u00e9s. J\u2019en conclus, cela est au fait probable,\nqu\u2019au moment o\u00f9, durant la temp\u00eate, le navire avait touch\u00e9, les lames\nbrisaient si haut et avec tant de rapidit\u00e9, que ces pauvres gens\nn\u2019avaient pu s\u2019en d\u00e9fendre, et avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9touff\u00e9s par la continuelle\nchute des vagues, comme s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 sous l\u2019eau.\u2014Outre le chien,\nil n\u2019y avait rien \u00e0 bord qui f\u00fbt en vie, et toutes les marchandises\nque je pus voir \u00e9taient avari\u00e9es. Je trouvai cependant, arrim\u00e9s\ndans la cale, quelques tonneaux de liqueurs. \u00c9tait-ce du vin ou de\nl\u2019eau-de-vie, je ne sais. L\u2019eau, en se retirant, les avait laiss\u00e9s \u00e0\nd\u00e9couvert, mais ils \u00e9taient trop gros pour que je pusse m\u2019en saisir.\nJe trouvai aussi plusieurs coffres qui me parurent avoir appartenu\n\u00e0 des matelots, et j\u2019en portai deux dans ma barque sans examiner ce\nqu\u2019ils contenaient.\nSi la poupe avait \u00e9t\u00e9 garantie et que la proue e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 bris\u00e9e, je\nsuis persuad\u00e9 que j\u2019aurais fait un bon voyage; car, \u00e0 en juger par ce\nque je trouvai dans les coffres, il devait y avoir \u00e0 bord beaucoup de\nrichesses. Je pr\u00e9sume, par la route qu\u2019il tenait, qu\u2019il devait venir\nde Buenos-Ayres ou de Rio de la Plata, dans l\u2019Am\u00e9rique m\u00e9ridionale, en\ndel\u00e0 du Br\u00e9sil, et devait aller \u00e0 la Havane, dans le golfe du Mexique,\net de l\u00e0 peut-\u00eatre en Espagne. Assur\u00e9ment ce navire rec\u00e9lait un grand\ntr\u00e9sor, mais perdu \u00e0 jamais pour tout le monde. Et qu\u2019\u00e9tait devenu le\nreste de son \u00e9quipage, je ne le sus pas alors.\nOutre ces coffres, j\u2019y trouvai un petit tonneau plein d\u2019environ\nvingt gallons de liqueur, que je transportai dans ma pirogue, non\nsans beaucoup de difficult\u00e9. Dans une cabine je d\u00e9couvris plusieurs\nmousquets et une grande poire \u00e0 poudre en contenant environ quatre\nlivres. Quant aux mousquets, je n\u2019en avais pas besoin: je les laissai\ndonc, mais je pris le cornet \u00e0 poudre. Je pris aussi une pelle et\ndes pincettes, qui me faisaient extr\u00eamement faute, deux chaudrons de\ncuivre, un gril et une chocolati\u00e8re. Avec cette cargaison et le chien,\nje me mis en route quand la mar\u00e9e commen\u00e7a \u00e0 porter vers mon \u00eele, que\nle m\u00eame soir, \u00e0 une heure de la nuit environ, j\u2019atteignis, harass\u00e9,\n\u00e9puis\u00e9 de fatigue.\nJe reposai cette nuit dans ma pirogue, et le matin je r\u00e9solus de ne\npoint porter mes acquisitions dans mon ch\u00e2teau, mais dans ma nouvelle\ncaverne.\nApr\u00e8s m\u2019\u00eatre restaur\u00e9, je d\u00e9barquai ma cargaison et je me mis \u00e0 en\nfaire l\u2019inventaire. Le tonneau de liqueur contenait une sorte de\n_rhum_, mais non pas de la qualit\u00e9 de celui qu\u2019on boit au Br\u00e9sil: en\nun mot, d\u00e9testable. Quand j\u2019en vins \u00e0 ouvrir les coffres, je d\u00e9couvris\nplusieurs choses dont j\u2019avais besoin: par exemple, dans l\u2019un je\ntrouvai un beau coffret renfermant des flacons de forme extraordinaire\net remplis d\u2019eaux cordiales fines et tr\u00e8s bonnes. Les flacons, de la\ncontenance de trois pintes, \u00e9taient tout garnis d\u2019argent. Je trouvai\ndeux pots d\u2019excellentes confitures si bien bouch\u00e9s que l\u2019eau n\u2019avait\npu y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer, et deux autres qu\u2019elle avait tout \u00e0 fait g\u00e2t\u00e9s. Je\ntrouvai en outre de fort bonnes chemises qui furent les bienvenues,\net environ une douzaine et demie de mouchoirs de toile blanche et de\ncravates de couleur. Les mouchoirs furent aussi les bien re\u00e7us, rien\nn\u2019\u00e9tant plus rafra\u00eechissant pour m\u2019essuyer le visage dans les jours de\nchaleur. Enfin, lorsque j\u2019arrivai au fond du coffre, je trouvai trois\ngrands sacs de pi\u00e8ces de huit, qui contenaient environ onze cents\npi\u00e8ces en tout, et dans l\u2019un de ces sacs six doublons d\u2019or envelopp\u00e9s\ndans un papier, et quelques petites barres ou lingots d\u2019or qui, je le\nsuppose, pesaient \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s une livre.\n[Illustration: Je me mis \u00e0 en faire l\u2019inventaire.]\nDans l\u2019autre coffre il y avait quelques v\u00eatements, mais de peu de\nvaleur. Je fus port\u00e9 \u00e0 croire que celui-ci avait appartenu au ma\u00eetre\ncanonnier, par cette raison qu\u2019il ne s\u2019y trouvait point de poudre,\nmais environ deux livres de pulv\u00e9rin dans trois flasques, mises en\nr\u00e9serve, je suppose, pour charger des armes de chasse dans l\u2019occasion.\nSomme toute, par ce voyage, j\u2019acquis peu de chose qui me f\u00fbt d\u2019un\ngrand usage; car pour l\u2019argent je n\u2019en avais que faire: il \u00e9tait\npour moi comme la boue sous mes pieds; je l\u2019aurais donn\u00e9 pour trois\nou quatre paires de bas et de souliers anglais, dont j\u2019avais grand\nbesoin. Depuis bien des ann\u00e9es j\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9duit \u00e0 m\u2019en passer. J\u2019avais\nalors, il est vrai, deux paires de souliers que j\u2019avais pris aux\npieds des deux hommes noy\u00e9s que j\u2019avais d\u00e9couverts \u00e0 bord, et deux\nautres paires que je trouvai dans l\u2019un des coffres, ce qui me fut fort\nagr\u00e9able; mais ils ne valaient pas nos souliers anglais, ni pour la\ncommodit\u00e9 ni pour le service, \u00e9tant plut\u00f4t ce que nous appelons des\nescarpins que des souliers. Enfin je tirai du second coffre environ\ncinquante pi\u00e8ces de huit en r\u00e9aux, mais point d\u2019or. Il est \u00e0 croire\nqu\u2019il avait appartenu \u00e0 un marin plus pauvre que le premier, qui doit\navoir eu quelque officier pour ma\u00eetre.\nJe portai n\u00e9anmoins cet argent dans ma caverne, et je l\u2019y serrai comme\nle premier que j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9 de notre b\u00e2timent. Ce fut vraiment grand\ndommage, comme je le disais tant\u00f4t, que l\u2019autre partie du navire\nn\u2019e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 accessible, je suis certain que j\u2019aurais pu en tirer de\nl\u2019argent de quoi charger plusieurs fois ma pirogue; argent qui, si je\nfusse jamais parvenu \u00e0 m\u2019\u00e9chapper et \u00e0 m\u2019enfuir en Angleterre, aurait\npu rester en s\u00fbret\u00e9 dans ma caverne jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je revinsse le\nchercher.\nApr\u00e8s avoir tout d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 et tout mis en lieu s\u00fbr, je retournai \u00e0\nmon embarcation. En ramant ou pagayant le long du rivage, je la\nramenai dans sa rade ordinaire, et je revins en h\u00e2te \u00e0 ma demeure,\no\u00f9 je retrouvai tout dans la paix et dans l\u2019ordre. Je me remis\ndonc \u00e0 vivre selon mon ancienne mani\u00e8re, et \u00e0 prendre soin de mes\naffaires domestiques. Pendant un certain temps mon existence fut assez\nagr\u00e9able, seulement j\u2019\u00e9tais encore plus vigilant que de coutume; je\nfaisais le guet plus souvent et ne mettais plus aussi fr\u00e9quemment\nle pied dehors. Si parfois je sortais avec quelque libert\u00e9, c\u2019\u00e9tait\ntoujours dans la partie orientale de l\u2019\u00eele, o\u00f9 j\u2019avais la presque\ncertitude que les sauvages ne venaient pas, et o\u00f9 je pouvais aller\nsans tant de pr\u00e9cautions, sans ce fardeau d\u2019armes et de munitions que\nje portais toujours avec moi lorsque j\u2019allais de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9.\nJe v\u00e9cus pr\u00e8s de deux ans encore dans cette situation; mais ma\nmalheureuse t\u00eate, qui semblait faite pour rendre mon corps mis\u00e9rable,\nfut durant ces deux ann\u00e9es toujours emplie de projets et de desseins\npour tenter de m\u2019enfuir de mon \u00eele. Quelquefois je voulais faire une\nnouvelle visite au navire \u00e9chou\u00e9, quoique ma raison me cri\u00e2t qu\u2019il\nn\u2019y restait rien qui val\u00fbt les dangers du voyage; d\u2019autres fois je\nsongeais \u00e0 aller \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, tant\u00f4t d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9, tant\u00f4t d\u2019un autre; et je\ncrois vraiment que si j\u2019avais eu la chaloupe sur laquelle je m\u2019\u00e9tais\n\u00e9chapp\u00e9 de Sall\u00e9, je me serais aventur\u00e9 en mer pour aller n\u2019importe en\nquel lieu, pour aller je ne sais o\u00f9.\nJ\u2019ai \u00e9t\u00e9 dans toutes les circonstances de ma vie un exemple vivant de\nceux qui sont atteints de cette plaie g\u00e9n\u00e9rale de l\u2019humanit\u00e9, d\u2019o\u00f9\nd\u00e9coule gratuitement la moiti\u00e9 de leurs mis\u00e8res: j\u2019entends la plaie de\nn\u2019\u00eatre point satisfaits de la position o\u00f9 Dieu et la nature les ont\nplac\u00e9s. Car, sans parler de mon \u00e9tat primitif et de mon opposition\naux excellents conseils de mon p\u00e8re, opposition qui fut, si je puis\nl\u2019appeler ainsi, mon p\u00e9ch\u00e9 originel, n\u2019\u00e9tait-ce pas un \u00e9garement de\nm\u00eame nature qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 l\u2019occasion de ma chute dans cette mis\u00e9rable\ncondition? Si cette Providence qui m\u2019avait si heureusement \u00e9tabli au\nBr\u00e9sil comme planteur, e\u00fbt limit\u00e9 mes d\u00e9sirs, si je m\u2019\u00e9tais content\u00e9\nd\u2019avancer pas \u00e0 pas, j\u2019aurais pu \u00eatre alors, j\u2019entends au bout du\ntemps que je passai dans mon \u00eele, un des plus grands colons du Br\u00e9sil;\ncar je suis persuad\u00e9, par les progr\u00e8s que j\u2019avais faits dans le peu\nd\u2019ann\u00e9es que j\u2019y v\u00e9cus et ceux que j\u2019aurais probablement faits si j\u2019y\nfusse demeur\u00e9, que je serais devenu riche \u00e0 cent mille _moidores_.\nJ\u2019avais bien affaire en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de laisser l\u00e0 une fortune assise, une\nplantation bien pourvue, s\u2019am\u00e9liorant et prosp\u00e9rant, pour m\u2019en aller\ncomme subr\u00e9cargue chercher des n\u00e8gres en Guin\u00e9e, tandis qu\u2019avec de\nla patience et du temps, mon capital s\u2019\u00e9tant accru, j\u2019en aurais pu\nacheter au seuil de ma porte, \u00e0 ces gens dont le trafic des noirs\n\u00e9tait le seul n\u00e9goce! Il est vrai qu\u2019ils m\u2019auraient co\u00fbt\u00e9 quelque\nchose de plus, mais cette diff\u00e9rence de prix pouvait-elle compenser de\nsi grands hasards?\nLa folie est ordinairement le lot des jeunes t\u00eates, et la r\u00e9flexion\nsur les folies pass\u00e9es est ordinairement l\u2019exercice d\u2019un \u00e2ge plus m\u00fbr\nou d\u2019une exp\u00e9rience pay\u00e9e cher. J\u2019en \u00e9tais l\u00e0 alors, et cependant\nl\u2019extravagance avait jet\u00e9 de si profondes racines dans mon c\u0153ur, que\nje ne pouvais me satisfaire de ma situation, et que j\u2019avais l\u2019esprit\nappliqu\u00e9 sans cesse \u00e0 rechercher les moyens et la possibilit\u00e9 de\nm\u2019\u00e9chapper de ce lieu.\u2014Pour que je puisse, avec le plus grand agr\u00e9ment\ndu lecteur, entamer le reste de mon histoire, il est bon que je donne\nquelques d\u00e9tails sur la conception de mes absurdes projets de fuite,\net que je fasse voir comment et sur quelles fondations j\u2019\u00e9difiais.\nQu\u2019on suppose maintenant que je suis retir\u00e9 dans mon ch\u00e2teau, apr\u00e8s\nmon dernier voyage au b\u00e2timent naufrag\u00e9, que ma fr\u00e9gate est d\u00e9sarm\u00e9e\net amarr\u00e9e sous l\u2019eau comme de coutume, et que ma condition est rendue\n\u00e0 ce qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait auparavant. J\u2019ai, il est vrai, plus d\u2019opulence;\nmais je n\u2019en suis pas plus riche, car je ne fais pas plus d\u2019usage de\nmon or que les Indiens du P\u00e9rou avant l\u2019arriv\u00e9e des Espagnols.\nPar une nuit de la saison pluvieuse de mars, dans la vingt-quatri\u00e8me\nann\u00e9e de ma vie solitaire, j\u2019\u00e9tais couch\u00e9 dans mon lit ou hamac sans\npouvoir dormir, mais en parfaite sant\u00e9; je n\u2019avais de plus qu\u2019\u00e0\nl\u2019ordinaire ni peine, ni indisposition, ni trouble de corps, ni\ntrouble d\u2019esprit; cependant il m\u2019\u00e9tait impossible de fermer l\u2019\u0153il, du\nmoins pour sommeiller. De toute la nuit je ne m\u2019assoupis pas autrement\nque comme il suit.\nIl serait aussi impossible que superflu de narrer la multitude\ninnombrable de pens\u00e9es qui durant cette nuit me pass\u00e8rent par\nla m\u00e9moire, ce grand chemin du cerveau. Je me repr\u00e9sentai toute\nl\u2019histoire de ma vie en miniature ou en raccourci, pour ainsi dire,\navant et apr\u00e8s ma venue dans l\u2019\u00eele. Dans mes r\u00e9flexions sur ce\nqu\u2019\u00e9tait ma condition depuis que j\u2019avais abord\u00e9 cette terre, j\u2019en vins\n\u00e0 comparer l\u2019\u00e9tat heureux de mes affaires pendant les premi\u00e8res ann\u00e9es\nde mon exil, \u00e0 cet \u00e9tat d\u2019anxi\u00e9t\u00e9, de crainte et de pr\u00e9cautions dans\nlequel je vivais depuis que j\u2019avais vu l\u2019empreinte d\u2019un pied d\u2019homme\nsur le sable. Il n\u2019est pas croyable que les sauvages n\u2019eussent pas\nfr\u00e9quent\u00e9 l\u2019\u00eele avant cette \u00e9poque: peut-\u00eatre y \u00e9taient-ils descendus\nau rivage par centaines; mais, comme je n\u2019en avais jamais rien su\net n\u2019avais pu en concevoir aucune appr\u00e9hension, ma s\u00e9curit\u00e9 \u00e9tait\nparfaite, bien que le p\u00e9ril f\u00fbt le m\u00eame. J\u2019\u00e9tais aussi heureux en ne\nconnaissant point les dangers qui m\u2019entouraient que si je n\u2019y eusse\nr\u00e9ellement point \u00e9t\u00e9 expos\u00e9.\u2014Cette v\u00e9rit\u00e9 fit na\u00eetre en mon esprit\nbeaucoup de r\u00e9flexions profitables, et particuli\u00e8rement celle-ci:\nCombien est infiniment bonne cette Providence, qui, dans sa sagesse,\na pos\u00e9 des bornes \u00e9troites \u00e0 la vue et \u00e0 la science de l\u2019homme!\nQuoiqu\u2019il marche au milieu de mille dangers dont le spectacle, s\u2019ils\nse d\u00e9couvraient \u00e0 lui, troublerait son \u00e2me et terrasserait son\ncourage, il garde son calme et sa s\u00e9r\u00e9nit\u00e9, parce que l\u2019issue des\nchoses est cach\u00e9e \u00e0 ses regards, parce qu\u2019il ne sait rien des dangers\nqui l\u2019environnent.\nApr\u00e8s que ces pens\u00e9es m\u2019eurent distrait quelque temps, je vins \u00e0\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir s\u00e9rieusement sur les dangers r\u00e9els que j\u2019avais courus durant\ntant d\u2019ann\u00e9es dans cette \u00eele m\u00eame o\u00f9 je me promenais dans la plus\ngrande s\u00e9curit\u00e9, avec toute la tranquillit\u00e9 possible, quand peut-\u00eatre\nil n\u2019y avait que la pointe d\u2019une colline, un arbre, ou les premi\u00e8res\nombres de la nuit, entre moi et le plus affreux de tous les sorts,\ncelui de tomber entre les mains des sauvages, des cannibales, qui se\nseraient saisis de moi dans le m\u00eame but que je le faisais d\u2019une ch\u00e8vre\nou d\u2019une tortue, et n\u2019auraient pas plus pens\u00e9 faire un crime en me\ntuant et en me d\u00e9vorant que moi en mangeant un pigeon ou un courlis.\nJe serais injustement mon propre d\u00e9tracteur, si je disais que je ne\nrendis pas sinc\u00e8rement gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 mon divin Conservateur pour toutes les\nd\u00e9livrances inconnues qu\u2019avec la plus grande humilit\u00e9 je confessais\ndevoir \u00e0 sa toute particuli\u00e8re protection, sans laquelle je serais\nin\u00e9vitablement tomb\u00e9 entre ces mains impitoyables.\nCes consid\u00e9rations m\u2019amen\u00e8rent \u00e0 faire des r\u00e9flexions sur la nature\nde ces sauvages, et \u00e0 examiner comment il se faisait qu\u2019en ce monde\nle sage Dispensateur de toutes choses e\u00fbt abandonn\u00e9 quelques-unes\nde ses cr\u00e9atures \u00e0 une telle inhumanit\u00e9, au-dessous de la brutalit\u00e9\nm\u00eame, qu\u2019elles vont jusqu\u2019\u00e0 se d\u00e9vorer dans leur propre esp\u00e8ce. Mais\ncomme cela n\u2019aboutissait qu\u2019\u00e0 de vaines sp\u00e9culations, je me pris\n\u00e0 rechercher dans quel endroit du monde ces malheureux vivaient;\n\u00e0 quelle distance \u00e9tait la c\u00f4te d\u2019o\u00f9 ils venaient; pourquoi ils\ns\u2019aventuraient si loin de chez eux; quelle sorte de bateaux ils\navaient, et pourquoi je ne pourrais pas en ordonner de moi et de\nmes affaires de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 \u00eatre \u00e0 m\u00eame d\u2019aller \u00e0 eux aussi bien qu\u2019ils\nvenaient \u00e0 moi.\nJe ne me mis nullement en peine de ce que je ferais de moi quand\nj\u2019en serais arriv\u00e9 l\u00e0, de ce que je deviendrais si je tombais\nentre les mains des sauvages; comment je leur \u00e9chapperais s\u2019ils me\npourchassaient, comment il me serait possible d\u2019aborder \u00e0 la c\u00f4te sans\n\u00eatre attaqu\u00e9 par quelqu\u2019un d\u2019eux de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ne pouvoir me d\u00e9livrer\nmoi-m\u00eame. Enfin, s\u2019il advenait que je ne tombasse point en leur\npouvoir, comment je me procurerais des provisions et vers quel lieu je\ndirigerais ma course. Aucune de ces pens\u00e9es, dis-je, ne se pr\u00e9senta\n\u00e0 mon esprit: mon id\u00e9e de gagner la terre ferme dans ma pirogue\nl\u2019absorbait, je regardais ma position d\u2019alors comme la plus mis\u00e9rable\nqui p\u00fbt \u00eatre, et je ne voyais pas que je pusse rencontrer rien de\npire, sauf la mort. Ne pouvais-je pas trouver du secours en atteignant\nle continent, ou ne pouvais-je le c\u00f4toyer, comme le rivage d\u2019Afrique,\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je parvinsse \u00e0 quelque pays habit\u00e9 o\u00f9 l\u2019on me pr\u00eaterait\nassistance? Apr\u00e8s tout, n\u2019\u00e9tait-il pas possible que je rencontrasse\nun b\u00e2timent chr\u00e9tien qui me prendrait \u00e0 son bord? et enfin, le pire\ndu pire advenant, je ne pouvais que mourir, ce qui tout d\u2019un coup\nmettait fin \u00e0 toutes mes mis\u00e8res.\u2014Notez, je vous prie, que tout ceci\n\u00e9tait le fruit du d\u00e9sordre de mon \u00e2me et de mon esprit v\u00e9h\u00e9ment,\nexasp\u00e9r\u00e9, en quelque sorte, par la continuit\u00e9 de mes souffrances et\npar le d\u00e9sappointement que j\u2019avais eu \u00e0 bord du vaisseau naufrag\u00e9,\no\u00f9 j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 si pr\u00e8s d\u2019obtenir ce dont j\u2019\u00e9tais ardemment d\u00e9sireux,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire quelqu\u2019un \u00e0 qui parler, quelqu\u2019un qui p\u00fbt me donner la\nmoindre connaissance du lieu o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais, et m\u2019enseigner des moyens\nprobables de d\u00e9livrance. J\u2019\u00e9tais donc, dis-je, totalement boulevers\u00e9\npar ces pens\u00e9es. Le calme de mon esprit, puis\u00e9 dans ma r\u00e9signation \u00e0\nla Providence et ma soumission aux volont\u00e9s du ciel, semblait \u00eatre\nsuspendu; et je n\u2019avais pas en quelque sorte la force de d\u00e9tourner ma\npens\u00e9e de ce projet de voyage, qui m\u2019assi\u00e9geait de d\u00e9sirs si imp\u00e9tueux\nqu\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait impossible d\u2019y r\u00e9sister.\nApr\u00e8s que cette passion m\u2019eut agit\u00e9 pendant deux heures et plus,\navec une telle violence que mon sang bouillonnait et que mon pouls\nbattait comme si la ferveur extraordinaire de mes d\u00e9sirs m\u2019e\u00fbt donn\u00e9\nla fi\u00e8vre, la nature fatigu\u00e9e, \u00e9puis\u00e9e, me jeta dans un profond\nsommeil.\u2014On pourrait croire que mes songes roul\u00e8rent sur le m\u00eame\nprojet, mais non pas, ni sur rien qui s\u2019y rapport\u00e2t. Je r\u00eavai que,\nsortant un matin de mon ch\u00e2teau comme de coutume, je voyais sur le\nrivage deux canots et onze sauvages d\u00e9barquant et apportant avec eux\nun autre sauvage pour le tuer et le manger. Tout \u00e0 coup, comme ils\ns\u2019appr\u00eataient \u00e0 \u00e9gorger ce sauvage, il bondit au loin et se prit \u00e0\nfuir pour sauver sa vie. Alors je crus voir dans mon r\u00eave que, pour se\ncacher, il accourait vers le bocage \u00e9pais masquant mes fortifications;\npuis, que, m\u2019apercevant qu\u2019il \u00e9tait seul et que les autres ne le\ncherchaient point par ce chemin, je me d\u00e9couvrais \u00e0 lui en souriant\net l\u2019encourageant, et qu\u2019il s\u2019agenouillait devant moi et semblait\nimplorer mon assistance. Sur ce, je lui montrais mon \u00e9chelle, je l\u2019y\nfaisais monter et je l\u2019introduisais dans ma grotte, et il devenait\nmon serviteur. Sit\u00f4t que je me fus acquis cet homme, je me dis:\n\u00abMaintenant je puis certainement me risquer \u00e0 gagner le continent,\ncar ce compagnon me servira de pilote, me dira ce qu\u2019il faut faire,\nme dira o\u00f9 aller aux provisions, o\u00f9 ne pas aller de peur d\u2019\u00eatre\nd\u00e9vor\u00e9; bref, les lieux \u00e0 aborder et ceux \u00e0 fuir.\u00bb Je me r\u00e9veillai\navec cette id\u00e9e; j\u2019\u00e9tais encore sous l\u2019inexprimable impression de joie\nqu\u2019en r\u00eave j\u2019avais ressentie \u00e0 l\u2019aspect de ma d\u00e9livrance; mais en\nrevenant \u00e0 moi et en trouvant que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019un songe, je ressentis\nun d\u00e9sappointement non moins \u00e9trange et qui me jeta dans un grand\nabattement d\u2019esprit.\nJ\u2019en tirai toutefois cette conclusion, que le seul moyen d\u2019effectuer\nquelque tentative de fuite, c\u2019\u00e9tait de m\u2019acqu\u00e9rir un sauvage, surtout,\nsi c\u2019\u00e9tait possible, quelque prisonnier condamn\u00e9 \u00e0 \u00eatre mang\u00e9 et\namen\u00e9 \u00e0 terre pour \u00eatre \u00e9gorg\u00e9. Mais une difficult\u00e9 s\u2019\u00e9levait\nencore, il \u00e9tait impossible d\u2019ex\u00e9cuter ce dessein sans assaillir et\nmassacrer toute une caravane: vrai coup de d\u00e9sespoir qui pouvait si\nfacilement manquer! D\u2019un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, j\u2019avais de grands scrupules sur\nla l\u00e9gitimit\u00e9 de cet acte, et mon c\u0153ur bondissait \u00e0 la seule pens\u00e9e de\nverser tant de sang, bien que ce f\u00fbt pour ma d\u00e9livrance. Il n\u2019est pas\nbesoin de r\u00e9p\u00e9ter ici les arguments qui venaient plaider contre ce bon\nsentiment: ce sont les m\u00eames que ceux dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait mention;\nmais, quoique j\u2019eusse encore d\u2019autres raisons \u00e0 exposer alors,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que ces hommes \u00e9taient mes ennemis et me d\u00e9voreraient\ns\u2019il leur \u00e9tait possible; que c\u2019\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement pour ma propre\nconservation que je devais me d\u00e9livrer de cette mort dans la vie,\net que j\u2019agissais pour ma propre d\u00e9fense tout aussi bien que s\u2019ils\nm\u2019attaquaient; quoique, dis-je, toutes ces raisons militassent pour\nmoi, cependant la pens\u00e9e de verser du sang humain pour ma d\u00e9livrance\nm\u2019\u00e9tait si terrible, que j\u2019eus beau faire, je ne pus de longtemps me\nconcilier avec elle.\nN\u00e9anmoins, enfin, apr\u00e8s beaucoup de d\u00e9lib\u00e9rations intimes, apr\u00e8s de\ngrandes perplexit\u00e9s,\u2014car tous ces arguments pour et contre s\u2019agit\u00e8rent\nlongtemps dans ma t\u00eate,\u2014mon v\u00e9h\u00e9ment d\u00e9sir pr\u00e9valut et \u00e9touffa tout\nle reste, et je me d\u00e9terminai, co\u00fbte que co\u00fbte, \u00e0 m\u2019emparer de\nquelqu\u2019un de ces sauvages. La question \u00e9tait alors de savoir comment\nm\u2019y prendre, et c\u2019\u00e9tait chose difficile \u00e0 r\u00e9soudre; mais, comme aucun\nmoyen probable ne se pr\u00e9sentait \u00e0 mon choix, je r\u00e9solus donc de\nfaire seulement sentinelle pour guetter quand ils d\u00e9barqueraient,\nde n\u2019arr\u00eater mes mesures que dans l\u2019occasion, de m\u2019abandonner \u00e0\nl\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nement, de le laisser \u00eatre ce qu\u2019il voudrait.\nPlein de cette r\u00e9solution, je me mis en vedette aussi souvent que\npossible, si souvent m\u00eame que je m\u2019en fatiguai profond\u00e9ment; car\npendant un an et demi je fis le guet et allai une grande partie de\nce temps au moins une fois par jour \u00e0 l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 ouest et sud-ouest\nde l\u2019\u00eele pour d\u00e9couvrir des canots, mais sans que j\u2019aper\u00e7usse rien.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait vraiment d\u00e9courageant, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m\u2019inqui\u00e9ter beaucoup,\nbien que je ne puisse dire qu\u2019en ce cas mes d\u00e9sirs se soient \u00e9mouss\u00e9s\ncomme autrefois. Ma passion croissait avec l\u2019attente. En un mot, je\nn\u2019avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u2019abord plus soigneux de fuir la vue des sauvages et\nd\u2019\u00e9viter d\u2019\u00eatre aper\u00e7u par eux, que j\u2019\u00e9tais alors d\u00e9sireux de leur\ncourir sus.\nAlors, je me figurais m\u00eame que si je m\u2019emparais de deux ou trois\nsauvages, j\u2019\u00e9tais capable de les gouverner de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 m\u2019en faire des\nesclaves, \u00e0 me les assujettir compl\u00e8tement et \u00e0 leur \u00f4ter \u00e0 jamais\ntout moyen de me nuire. Je me complaisais dans cette id\u00e9e, mais\ntoujours rien ne se pr\u00e9sentait: toutes mes volont\u00e9s, tous mes plans\nn\u2019aboutissaient \u00e0 rien, car il ne venait point de sauvages.\nUn an et demi environ apr\u00e8s que j\u2019eus con\u00e7u ces id\u00e9es, et que par\nune longue r\u00e9flexion j\u2019eus en quelque mani\u00e8re d\u00e9cid\u00e9 qu\u2019elles\ndemeureraient sans r\u00e9sultat faute d\u2019occasion, je fus surpris un\nmatin, de tr\u00e8s bonne heure, en ne voyant pas moins de cinq canots\ntous ensemble au rivage sur mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele. Les sauvages \u00e0 qui\nils appartenaient \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e0 terre et hors de ma vue. Le nombre\nde ces canots rompait toutes mes mesures; car, n\u2019ignorant pas qu\u2019ils\nvenaient toujours quatre ou six, quelquefois plus, dans chaque\nembarcation, je ne savais que penser de cela, ni quel plan dresser\npour attaquer moi seul vingt ou trente hommes. Aussi demeurai-je dans\nmon ch\u00e2teau embarrass\u00e9 et abattu. Cependant, dans la m\u00eame attitude\nque j\u2019avais prise autrefois, je me pr\u00e9parai \u00e0 repousser une attaque;\nj\u2019\u00e9tais tout pr\u00eat \u00e0 agir si quelque chose se f\u00fbt pr\u00e9sent\u00e9. Ayant\nattendu longtemps et longtemps pr\u00eat\u00e9 l\u2019oreille pour \u00e9couter s\u2019il se\nfaisait quelque bruit, je m\u2019impatientai enfin; et, laissant mes deux\nfusils au pied de mon \u00e9chelle, je montai jusqu\u2019au sommet du rocher,\nen deux escalades, comme d\u2019ordinaire. L\u00e0, post\u00e9 de fa\u00e7on que ma t\u00eate\nne par\u00fbt point au-dessus de la cime, pour qu\u2019en aucune mani\u00e8re on ne\np\u00fbt m\u2019apercevoir, j\u2019observai, \u00e0 l\u2019aide de mes lunettes d\u2019approche,\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient au moins au nombre de trente, qu\u2019ils avaient allum\u00e9\nun feu et pr\u00e9par\u00e9 leur nourriture: quel aliment \u00e9tait-ce et comment\nl\u2019accommodaient-ils, c\u2019est ce que je ne pus savoir; mais je les vis\ntous danser autour du feu, et, suivant leur coutume, avec je ne sais\ncombien de figures et de gesticulations barbares.\n[Illustration: Je les vis tous danser autour du feu.]\nTandis que je regardais ainsi, j\u2019aper\u00e7us par ma longue-vue deux\nmis\u00e9rables qu\u2019on tirait des pirogues, o\u00f9 sans doute ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nmis en r\u00e9serve, et qu\u2019alors on faisait sortir pour \u00eatre massacr\u00e9s.\nJ\u2019en vis aussit\u00f4t tomber un assomm\u00e9, je pense, avec un casse-t\u00eate ou\nun sabre de bois, selon l\u2019usage de ces nations. Deux ou trois de ces\nmeurtriers se mirent incontinent \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre et le d\u00e9pec\u00e8rent pour leur\ncuisine, pendant que l\u2019autre victime demeurait l\u00e0 en attendant qu\u2019ils\nfussent pr\u00eats pour elle. En ce moment m\u00eame la nature inspira \u00e0 ce\npauvre malheureux, qui se voyait un peu en libert\u00e9, quelque espoir de\nsauver sa vie; il s\u2019\u00e9lan\u00e7a, et se prit \u00e0 courir avec une incroyable\nvitesse, le long des sables, droit vers moi, j\u2019entends vers la partie\nde la c\u00f4te o\u00f9 \u00e9tait mon habitation.\nJe fus horriblement effray\u00e9,\u2014il faut que je l\u2019avoue,\u2014quand je le vis\nenfiler ce chemin, surtout quand je m\u2019imaginai le voir poursuivi par\ntoute la troupe. Je crus alors qu\u2019une partie de mon r\u00eave allait se\nv\u00e9rifier, et qu\u2019\u00e0 coup s\u00fbr il se r\u00e9fugierait dans mon bocage; mais je\nne comptais pas du tout que le d\u00e9nouement serait le m\u00eame, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\nque les autres sauvages ne l\u2019y pourchasseraient pas et ne l\u2019y\ntrouveraient point. Je demeurai toutefois \u00e0 mon poste, et bient\u00f4t je\nrecouvrai quelque peu mes esprits lorsque je reconnus qu\u2019ils n\u2019\u00e9taient\nque trois hommes \u00e0 sa poursuite. Je retrouvai surtout du courage en\nvoyant qu\u2019il les surpassait excessivement \u00e0 la course et gagnait du\nterrain sur eux, de mani\u00e8re que s\u2019il pouvait aller de ce train une\ndemi-heure encore, il \u00e9tait indubitable qu\u2019il leur \u00e9chapperait.\nIl y avait entre eux et mon ch\u00e2teau la crique dont j\u2019ai souvent parl\u00e9\ndans la premi\u00e8re partie de mon histoire, quand je fis le sauvetage\ndu navire, et je pr\u00e9vis qu\u2019il faudrait n\u00e9cessairement que le pauvre\ninfortun\u00e9 la pass\u00e2t \u00e0 la nage ou qu\u2019il f\u00fbt pris. Mais lorsque le\nsauvage \u00e9chapp\u00e9 eut atteint jusque-l\u00e0, il ne fit ni une ni deux,\nmalgr\u00e9 la mar\u00e9e haute, il s\u2019y plongea; il gagna l\u2019autre rive en une\ntrentaine de brass\u00e9es ou environ, et se reprit \u00e0 courir avec une force\net une vitesse sans pareilles. Quand ses trois ennemis arriv\u00e8rent \u00e0\nla crique, je vis qu\u2019il n\u2019y en avait que deux qui sussent nager. Le\ntroisi\u00e8me s\u2019arr\u00eata sur le bord, regarda l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 et n\u2019alla pas\nplus loin. Au bout de quelques instants il s\u2019en retourna pas \u00e0 pas;\net, d\u2019apr\u00e8s ce qui advint, ce fut tr\u00e8s heureux pour lui.\n[Illustration: Je le fis et je le tuai du coup.]\nToutefois, j\u2019observai que les deux qui savaient nager mirent \u00e0 passer\nla crique deux fois plus de temps que n\u2019en avait mis le malheureux qui\nles fuyait.\u2014Mon esprit con\u00e7ut alors avec feu, et irr\u00e9sistiblement, que\nl\u2019heure \u00e9tait venue de m\u2019acqu\u00e9rir un serviteur, peut-\u00eatre un camarade\nou un ami, et que j\u2019\u00e9tais manifestement appel\u00e9 par la Providence\n\u00e0 sauver la vie de cette pauvre cr\u00e9ature. Aussit\u00f4t, je descendis\nen toute h\u00e2te par mes \u00e9chelles, je pris deux fusils que j\u2019y avais\nlaiss\u00e9s au pied, comme je l\u2019ai dit tant\u00f4t, et, remontant avec la m\u00eame\npr\u00e9cipitation, je m\u2019avan\u00e7ai vers la mer. Ayant coup\u00e9 par le plus court\nau bas de la montagne, je me pr\u00e9cipitai entre les poursuivants et le\npoursuivi, et j\u2019appelai le fuyard. Il se retourna et fut peut-\u00eatre\nd\u2019abord tout aussi effray\u00e9 de moi que moi je l\u2019\u00e9tais d\u2019eux; mais je\nlui fis signe de la main de revenir, et en m\u00eame temps je m\u2019avan\u00e7ai\nlentement vers les deux qui accouraient. Tout \u00e0 coup je me jetai sur\nle premier, et je l\u2019assommai avec la crosse de mon fusil. Je ne me\nsouciais pas de faire feu, de peur que l\u2019explosion ne f\u00fbt entendue des\nautres, quoique \u00e0 cette distance cela ne se p\u00fbt gu\u00e8re; d\u2019ailleurs,\ncomme ils n\u2019auraient pu apercevoir la fum\u00e9e, ils n\u2019auraient pu\nais\u00e9ment savoir d\u2019o\u00f9 cela provenait. Ayant donc assomm\u00e9 celui-ci,\nl\u2019autre qui le suivait s\u2019arr\u00eata comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 effray\u00e9. J\u2019allai \u00e0\ngrands pas vers lui; mais quand je m\u2019en fus approch\u00e9, je le vis arm\u00e9\nd\u2019un arc, et pr\u00eat \u00e0 d\u00e9cocher une fl\u00e8che contre moi. Plac\u00e9 ainsi dans\nla n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de tirer le premier, je le fis et je le tuai du coup.\nLe pauvre sauvage \u00e9chapp\u00e9 avait fait halte; mais, bien qu\u2019il vit ses\ndeux ennemis mordre la poussi\u00e8re, il \u00e9tait pourtant si \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 du\nfeu et du bruit de mon arme, qu\u2019il demeura p\u00e9trifi\u00e9, n\u2019osant aller\nni en avant ni en arri\u00e8re. Il me parut cependant plut\u00f4t dispos\u00e9 \u00e0\ns\u2019enfuir encore qu\u2019\u00e0 s\u2019approcher. Je l\u2019appelai de nouveau et lui fis\nsigne de venir, ce qu\u2019il comprit facilement. Il fit alors quelques\npas et s\u2019arr\u00eata, puis s\u2019avan\u00e7a un peu plus et s\u2019arr\u00eata encore; et je\nm\u2019aper\u00e7us qu\u2019il tremblait comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fait prisonnier et sur\nle point d\u2019\u00eatre tu\u00e9 comme ses deux ennemis. Je lui fis signe encore\nde venir \u00e0 moi, et je lui donnai toutes les marques d\u2019encouragement\nque je pus imaginer. De plus en plus pr\u00e8s il se risqua, s\u2019agenouillant\n\u00e0 chaque dix ou douze pas pour me t\u00e9moigner sa reconnaissance de lui\navoir sauv\u00e9 la vie. Je lui souriais, je le regardais aimablement et\nl\u2019invitais toujours \u00e0 s\u2019avancer. Enfin, il s\u2019approcha de moi; puis,\ns\u2019agenouillant encore, baisa la terre, y appuya sa t\u00eate, prit mon pied\net le mit sur sa t\u00eate: ce fut, il me semble, un serment jur\u00e9 d\u2019\u00eatre\n\u00e0 jamais mon esclave. Je le relevai, je lui fis des caresses et le\nrassurai par tout ce que je pus. Mais la besogne n\u2019\u00e9tait pas achev\u00e9e;\ncar je m\u2019aper\u00e7us alors que le sauvage que j\u2019avais assomm\u00e9 n\u2019\u00e9tait\npas tu\u00e9, mais seulement \u00e9tourdi, et qu\u2019il commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se remettre.\nJe le montrai du doigt \u00e0 mon sauvage, en lui faisant remarquer qu\u2019il\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas mort. Sur ce, il me dit quelques mots, qui, bien que je\nne les comprisse pas, me furent bien doux \u00e0 entendre; car c\u2019\u00e9tait\nle premier son de voix humaine, la mienne except\u00e9e, que j\u2019eusse ou\u00ef\ndepuis vingt-cinq ans. Mais l\u2019heure de m\u2019abandonner \u00e0 de pareilles\nr\u00e9flexions n\u2019\u00e9tait pas venue: le sauvage abasourdi avait recouvr\u00e9\nassez de force pour se mettre sur son s\u00e9ant, et je m\u2019apercevais que le\nmien commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 s\u2019en effrayer. Quand je vis cela, je pris mon second\nfusil et couchai en joue notre homme, comme si j\u2019eusse voulu tirer\nsur lui. L\u00e0-dessus, mon sauvage, car d\u00e8s lors je pouvais l\u2019appeler\nainsi, me demanda que je lui pr\u00eatasse mon sabre qui pendait nu \u00e0 mon\nc\u00f4t\u00e9; je le lui donnai: il ne l\u2019eut pas plus t\u00f4t, qu\u2019il courut \u00e0 son\nennemi et d\u2019un seul coup lui trancha la t\u00eate si adroitement qu\u2019il n\u2019y\na pas en Allemagne un bourreau qui l\u2019e\u00fbt fait ni plus vite ni mieux.\nJe trouvai cela \u00e9trange pour un sauvage, que je supposais avec raison\nn\u2019avoir jamais vu auparavant d\u2019autres sabres que les sabres de bois de\nsa nation. Toutefois il para\u00eet, comme je l\u2019appris plus tard, que ces\nsabres sont si affil\u00e9s, sont si pesants et d\u2019un bois si dur, qu\u2019ils\npeuvent d\u2019un seul coup abattre une t\u00eate ou un bras. Apr\u00e8s cet exploit,\nil revint \u00e0 moi, riant en signe de triomphe, et, avec une foule de\ngestes que je ne compris pas, il d\u00e9posa \u00e0 mes pieds mon sabre et la\nt\u00eate du sauvage.\n[Illustration: ... d\u2019un seul coup lui trancha la t\u00eate.]\nMais ce qui l\u2019intrigua beaucoup, ce fut de savoir comment de si loin\nj\u2019avais pu tuer l\u2019autre Indien, et, me le montrant du doigt, il me fit\ndes signes pour que je l\u2019y laissasse aller. Je lui r\u00e9pondis donc du\nmieux que je pus que je le lui permettais. Quand il s\u2019en fut approch\u00e9,\nil le regarda et demeura l\u00e0 comme un \u00e9bahi; puis, le tournant tant\u00f4t\nd\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9, tant\u00f4t d\u2019un autre, il examina la blessure. La balle avait\nfrapp\u00e9 juste dans la poitrine et avait fait un trou d\u2019o\u00f9 peu de sang\navait coul\u00e9: sans doute, il s\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e9panch\u00e9 int\u00e9rieurement, car il\n\u00e9tait bien mort. Enfin, il lui prit son arc et ses fl\u00e8ches et s\u2019en\nrevint. Je me mis alors en devoir de partir et je l\u2019invitai \u00e0 me\nsuivre, en lui donnant \u00e0 entendre qu\u2019il en pourrait survenir d\u2019autres\nen plus grand nombre.\nSur ce, il me fit signe qu\u2019il voulait enterrer les deux cadavres,\npour que les autres, s\u2019ils accouraient, ne pussent les voir. Je le\nlui permis, et il se mit \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage. En un instant, il eut creus\u00e9\navec ses mains un trou dans le sable assez grand pour y ensevelir le\npremier, qu\u2019il y tra\u00eena et qu\u2019il recouvrit; il en fit de m\u00eame pour\nl\u2019autre. Je pense qu\u2019il ne mit pas plus d\u2019un quart d\u2019heure \u00e0 les\nenterrer tous les deux. Je le rappelai alors, et l\u2019emmenai, non dans\nmon ch\u00e2teau, mais dans la caverne que j\u2019avais plus avant dans l\u2019\u00eele.\nJe fis ainsi mentir cette partie de mon r\u00eave qui lui donnait mon\nbocage pour abri.\nL\u00e0 je lui offris du pain, une grappe de raisin et de l\u2019eau, dont je\nvis qu\u2019il avait vraiment grand besoin \u00e0 cause de sa course. Lorsqu\u2019il\nse fut restaur\u00e9, je lui fis signe d\u2019aller se coucher et de dormir, en\nlui montrant un tas de paille de riz avec une couverture dessus, qui\nme servait de lit quelquefois \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame. La pauvre cr\u00e9ature se coucha\ndonc et s\u2019endormit.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait un grand beau gar\u00e7on, svelte et bien tourn\u00e9, et \u00e0 mon estime\nd\u2019environ vingt-six ans. Il avait un bon maintien, l\u2019aspect ni\narrogant ni farouche et quelque chose de tr\u00e8s m\u00e2le dans la face;\ncependant il avait aussi toute l\u2019expression douce et molle d\u2019un\nEurop\u00e9en, surtout quand il souriait. Sa chevelure \u00e9tait longue et\nnoire, et non pas cr\u00e9pue comme de la laine. Son front \u00e9tait haut et\nlarge, ses yeux vifs et pleins de feu. Son teint n\u2019\u00e9tait pas noir,\nmais tr\u00e8s basan\u00e9, sans rien avoir cependant de ce ton jaun\u00e2tre, cuivr\u00e9\net naus\u00e9abond des Br\u00e9siliens, des Virginiens et autres naturels de\nl\u2019Am\u00e9rique; il approchait plut\u00f4t d\u2019une l\u00e9g\u00e8re couleur d\u2019olive fonc\u00e9,\nplus agr\u00e9able en soi que facile \u00e0 d\u00e9crire. Il avait le visage rond\net potel\u00e9, le nez petit et non pas aplati comme ceux des n\u00e8gres,\nla bouche belle, les l\u00e8vres minces, les dents fines, bien rang\u00e9es\net blanches comme ivoire.\u2014Apr\u00e8s avoir sommeill\u00e9 plut\u00f4t que dormi\nenviron une demi-heure, il s\u2019\u00e9veilla et sortit de la caverne pour me\nrejoindre; car j\u2019\u00e9tais all\u00e9 traire mes ch\u00e8vres, parqu\u00e9es dans l\u2019enclos\npr\u00e8s de l\u00e0. Quand il m\u2019aper\u00e7ut, il vint \u00e0 moi en courant, et se jeta \u00e0\nterre avec toutes les marques possibles d\u2019une humble reconnaissance,\nqu\u2019il manifestait par une foule de grotesques gesticulations. Puis il\nposa sa t\u00eate \u00e0 plat sur la terre, prit l\u2019un de mes pieds et le posa\nsur sa t\u00eate, comme il avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait; puis il m\u2019adressa tous les\nsignes imaginables d\u2019assujettissement, de servitude et de soumission,\npour me donner \u00e0 conna\u00eetre combien \u00e9tait grand son d\u00e9sir de s\u2019attacher\n\u00e0 moi pour la vie. Je le comprenais en beaucoup de choses, et je lui\nt\u00e9moignais que j\u2019\u00e9tais fort content de lui.\nCHAPITRE V\n     Vendredi.\u2014Son \u00e9ducation.\u2014Conversation.\u2014Rudiments de\n     religion.\u2014Nouveau canot.\u2014Encore les sauvages.\u2014Assaut.\u2014Vendredi et\n     son p\u00e8re.\u2014Apr\u00e8s le diff\u00e9rend.\u2014Plans d\u2019\u00e9vasion.\nEn peu de temps je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 lui parler et \u00e0 lui apprendre \u00e0 me\nparler. D\u2019abord je lui fis savoir que son nom serait Vendredi; c\u2019\u00e9tait\nle jour o\u00f9 je lui avais sauv\u00e9 la vie, et je l\u2019appelai ainsi en m\u00e9moire\nde ce jour. Je lui enseignai \u00e9galement \u00e0 m\u2019appeler ma\u00eetre, \u00e0 dire oui\net non, et je lui appris ce que ces mots signifiaient.\u2014Je lui donnai\nensuite du lait dans un pot de terre; j\u2019en bus le premier, j\u2019y trempai\nmon pain et lui donnai un g\u00e2teau pour qu\u2019il fit de m\u00eame: il s\u2019en\naccommoda aussit\u00f4t et me fit signe qu\u2019il trouvait cela fort bon.\nJe demeurai l\u00e0 toute la nuit avec lui; mais d\u00e8s que le jour parut, je\nlui fis comprendre qu\u2019il fallait me suivre et que je lui donnerais des\nv\u00eatements; il parut charm\u00e9 de cela, car il \u00e9tait absolument nu. Comme\nnous passions par le lieu o\u00f9 il avait enterr\u00e9 les deux hommes, il me\nle d\u00e9signa exactement et me montra les marques qu\u2019il avait faites pour\nle reconna\u00eetre, en me faisant signe que nous devrions les d\u00e9terrer\net les manger. L\u00e0-dessus je parus fort en col\u00e8re; je lui exprimai\nmon horreur en faisant comme si j\u2019allais vomir \u00e0 cette pens\u00e9e, et je\nlui enjoignis de la main de passer outre, ce qu\u2019il fit sur-le-champ\navec une grande soumission. Je l\u2019emmenai alors sur le sommet de la\nmontagne, pour voir si les ennemis \u00e9taient partis; et, braquant ma\nlongue-vue, je d\u00e9couvris parfaitement la place o\u00f9 ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9,\nmais aucune apparence d\u2019eux ni de leurs canots. Il \u00e9tait donc positif\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient partis et qu\u2019ils avaient laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re eux leurs deux\ncamarades sans faire aucune recherche.\nMais cette d\u00e9couverte ne me satisfaisait pas: ayant alors plus de\ncourage et cons\u00e9quemment plus de curiosit\u00e9, je pris mon Vendredi avec\nmoi, je lui mis une \u00e9p\u00e9e \u00e0 la main, sur le dos l\u2019arc et les fl\u00e8ches,\ndont je le trouvai tr\u00e8s adroit \u00e0 se servir; je lui donnai aussi \u00e0\nporter un fusil pour moi; j\u2019en pris deux moi-m\u00eame, et nous march\u00e2mes\nvers le lieu o\u00f9 avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 les sauvages, car je d\u00e9sirais en avoir\nde plus amples nouvelles. Quand j\u2019y arrivai, mon sang se gla\u00e7a dans\nmes veines, et mon c\u0153ur d\u00e9faillit \u00e0 un horrible spectacle. C\u2019\u00e9tait\nvraiment chose terrible \u00e0 voir, du moins pour moi, car cela ne fit\nrien \u00e0 Vendredi. La place \u00e9tait couverte d\u2019ossements humains, la\nterre teinte de sang; \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 \u00e9taient des morceaux de chair \u00e0 moiti\u00e9\nmang\u00e9s, d\u00e9chir\u00e9s et r\u00f4tis, en un mot toutes les traces d\u2019un festin de\ntriomphe qu\u2019ils avaient fait l\u00e0 apr\u00e8s une victoire sur leurs ennemis.\nJe vis trois cr\u00e2nes, cinq mains, les os de trois ou quatre jambes,\ndes os de pieds et une foule d\u2019autres parties du corps. Vendredi me\nfit entendre par ses signes que les sauvages avaient amen\u00e9 quatre\nprisonniers pour les manger, que trois l\u2019avaient \u00e9t\u00e9, et que lui,\nen se d\u00e9signant lui-m\u00eame, \u00e9tait le quatri\u00e8me; qu\u2019il y avait eu une\ngrande bataille entre eux et un roi leur voisin,\u2014dont, ce semble, il\n\u00e9tait le sujet;\u2014qu\u2019un grand nombre de prisonniers avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 faits,\net conduits en diff\u00e9rents lieux par ceux qui les avaient pris dans la\nd\u00e9route, pour \u00eatre mang\u00e9s, ainsi que l\u2019avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 ceux d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s par\nces mis\u00e9rables.\nJe commandai \u00e0 Vendredi de ramasser ces cr\u00e2nes, ces os, ces tron\u00e7ons\net tout ce qui restait, de les mettre en un monceau et de faire\nun grand feu dessus pour les r\u00e9duire en cendres. Je m\u2019aper\u00e7us que\nVendredi avait encore un violent app\u00e9tit pour cette chair, et que son\nnaturel \u00e9tait encore cannibale; mais je lui montrai tant d\u2019horreur \u00e0\ncette id\u00e9e, \u00e0 la moindre apparence de cet app\u00e9tit, qu\u2019il n\u2019osa pas le\nd\u00e9couvrir: car je lui avais fait parfaitement comprendre que, s\u2019il le\nmanifestait, je le tuerais.\nLorsqu\u2019il eut fait cela, nous nous en retourn\u00e2mes \u00e0 notre ch\u00e2teau,\net l\u00e0 je me mis \u00e0 travailler avec mon serviteur Vendredi. Avant tout\nje lui donnai une paire de cale\u00e7ons de toile que j\u2019avais tir\u00e9e du\ncoffre du pauvre canonnier dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9 fait mention, et que j\u2019avais\ntrouv\u00e9e dans le b\u00e2timent naufrag\u00e9; avec un l\u00e9ger changement, elle\nlui alla tr\u00e8s bien. Je lui fabriquai ensuite une casaque de peau de\nch\u00e8vre aussi bien que le permit mon savoir, j\u2019\u00e9tais devenu alors un\nassez bon tailleur: puis je lui donnai un bonnet tr\u00e8s commode et\nassez _fashionable_ que j\u2019avais fait avec une peau de li\u00e8vre. Il fut\nainsi passablement habill\u00e9 pour le moment, et on ne peut plus ravi\nde se voir presque aussi bien v\u00eatu que son ma\u00eetre. A la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, il\neut d\u2019abord l\u2019air fort emp\u00each\u00e9 dans toutes ces choses: ses cale\u00e7ons\n\u00e9taient port\u00e9s gauchement, ses manches de casaque le g\u00eanaient aux\n\u00e9paules et sous les bras; mais, ayant \u00e9largi les endroits o\u00f9 il se\nplaignait qu\u2019elles lui faisaient mal, et lui-m\u00eame s\u2019y accoutumant, il\nfinit par s\u2019en accommoder fort bien.\nLe lendemain du jour o\u00f9 je vins avec lui \u00e0 ma _huche_, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nexaminer o\u00f9 je pourrais le loger. Afin qu\u2019il f\u00fbt commod\u00e9ment pour lui\net cependant tr\u00e8s convenablement pour moi, je lui \u00e9levai une petite\ncabane dans l\u2019espace vide entre mes deux fortifications, en dedans\nde la derni\u00e8re et en dehors de la premi\u00e8re. Comme il y avait l\u00e0 une\nouverture donnant dans ma grotte, je fa\u00e7onnai une bonne huisserie et\nune porte de planches que je posai dans le passage, un peu en dedans\nde l\u2019entr\u00e9e. Cette porte \u00e9tait ajust\u00e9e pour ouvrir \u00e0 l\u2019int\u00e9rieur. La\nnuit je la barrais et retirais aussi mes deux \u00e9chelles; de sorte que\nVendredi n\u2019aurait pu venir jusqu\u2019\u00e0 moi dans mon dernier retranchement\nsans faire, en grimpant, quelque bruit qui m\u2019aurait immanquablement\nr\u00e9veill\u00e9; car ce retranchement avait alors une toiture faite de\nlongues perches couvrant toute ma tente, s\u2019appuyant contre le rocher\net entrelac\u00e9es de branchages, en guise de lattes, charg\u00e9es d\u2019une\ncouche tr\u00e8s \u00e9paisse de paille de riz aussi forte que des roseaux. A\nla place ou au trou que j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9 pour entrer ou sortir avec mon\n\u00e9chelle, j\u2019avais pos\u00e9 une sorte de trappe, qui, si elle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 forc\u00e9e\n\u00e0 l\u2019ext\u00e9rieur, ne se serait point ouverte, mais serait tomb\u00e9e avec un\ngrand fracas. Quant aux armes, je les prenais toutes avec moi pendant\nla nuit.\nMais je n\u2019avais pas besoin de tant de pr\u00e9cautions, car jamais homme\nn\u2019eut un serviteur plus sinc\u00e8re, plus aimant, plus fid\u00e8le que\nVendredi. Sans passions, sans obstination, sans volont\u00e9, complaisant\net affectueux, son attachement pour moi \u00e9tait celui d\u2019un enfant pour\nson p\u00e8re. J\u2019ose dire qu\u2019il aurait sacrifi\u00e9 sa vie pour sauver la\nmienne en toute occasion. La quantit\u00e9 de preuves qu\u2019il m\u2019en donna mit\ncela hors de doute, et je fus bient\u00f4t convaincu que pour ma s\u00fbret\u00e9 il\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas n\u00e9cessaire d\u2019user de pr\u00e9cautions \u00e0 son \u00e9gard.\nCeci me donna souvent occasion d\u2019observer, et avec \u00e9tonnement,\nque si toutefois il avait plu \u00e0 Dieu, dans sa sagesse et dans le\ngouvernement des \u0153uvres de ses mains, de d\u00e9tacher un grand nombre de\nses cr\u00e9atures du bon usage auquel sont applicables leurs facult\u00e9s et\nles puissances de leur \u00e2me, il leur avait pourtant accord\u00e9 les m\u00eames\nforces, la m\u00eame raison, les m\u00eames affections, les m\u00eames sentiments\nd\u2019amiti\u00e9 et d\u2019obligeance, les m\u00eames passions, le m\u00eame ressentiment\npour les outrages, le m\u00eame sens de gratitude, de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9, de\nfid\u00e9lit\u00e9, enfin toutes les capacit\u00e9s, pour faire et recevoir le bien,\nqui nous ont \u00e9t\u00e9 donn\u00e9es \u00e0 nous-m\u00eames; et que, lorsqu\u2019il pla\u00eet \u00e0 Dieu\nde leur envoyer l\u2019occasion d\u2019exercer leurs facult\u00e9s, ces cr\u00e9atures\nsont aussi dispos\u00e9es, m\u00eame mieux dispos\u00e9es que nous \u00e0 les appliquer\nau bon usage pour lequel elles leur ont \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9parties. Je devenais\nparfois tr\u00e8s m\u00e9lancolique lorsque je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais au m\u00e9diocre\nemploi que g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement nous faisons de toutes ces facult\u00e9s, quoique\nnotre intelligence soit \u00e9clair\u00e9e par le flambeau de l\u2019instruction\net l\u2019esprit de Dieu, et que notre entendement soit agrandi par la\nconnaissance de sa parole. Pourquoi, me demandais-je, pla\u00eet-il \u00e0 Dieu\nde cacher cette connaissance salutaire \u00e0 tant de millions d\u2019\u00e2mes qui,\n\u00e0 en juger par ce pauvre sauvage, en auraient fait un meilleur usage\nque nous?\nDe l\u00e0 j\u2019\u00e9tais quelquefois entra\u00een\u00e9 si loin que je m\u2019attaquais \u00e0 la\nsouverainet\u00e9 de la Providence, et que j\u2019accusais en quelque sorte sa\njustice d\u2019une disposition assez arbitraire pour cacher la lumi\u00e8re aux\nuns, la r\u00e9v\u00e9ler aux autres, et cependant attendre de tous les m\u00eames\ndevoirs. Mais aussit\u00f4t je coupais court \u00e0 ces pens\u00e9es et les r\u00e9primais\npar cette conclusion: que nous ignorons selon quelle lumi\u00e8re et quelle\nloi seront condamn\u00e9es ces cr\u00e9atures; que Dieu \u00e9tant par son essence\ninfiniment saint et \u00e9quitable, si elles \u00e9taient sentenci\u00e9es, ce ne\npourrait \u00eatre pour ne l\u2019avoir point connu, mais pour avoir p\u00e9ch\u00e9\ncontre cette lumi\u00e8re qui, comme dit l\u2019\u00c9criture, \u00e9tait une loi pour\nelles, et par des pr\u00e9ceptes que leur propre conscience aurait reconnus\n\u00eatre justes, bien que le principe n\u2019en f\u00fbt point manifeste pour nous;\nqu\u2019enfin nous sommes tous COMME L\u2019ARGILE ENTRE LES MAINS DU POTIER, A\nQUI NUL VASE N\u2019A DROIT DE DIRE: POURQUOI M\u2019AS-TU FAIT AINSI?\nMais retournons \u00e0 mon nouveau compagnon. J\u2019\u00e9tais enchant\u00e9 de lui, et\nje m\u2019appliquais \u00e0 lui enseigner \u00e0 faire tout ce qui \u00e9tait propre \u00e0\nle rendre utile, adroit, entendu, mais surtout \u00e0 me parler et \u00e0 me\ncomprendre, et je le trouvai le meilleur \u00e9colier qui f\u00fbt jamais. Il\n\u00e9tait si gai, si constamment assidu et si content quand il pouvait\nm\u2019entendre ou se faire entendre de moi, qu\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait vraiment\nagr\u00e9able de causer avec lui. Alors ma vie commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 \u00eatre si\ndouce que je me disais: Si je n\u2019avais pas \u00e0 redouter les sauvages,\nvolontiers je demeurerais en ce lieu aussi longtemps que je vivrais.\nTrois ou quatre jours apr\u00e8s mon retour au ch\u00e2teau, je pensai que,\npour d\u00e9tourner Vendredi de son horrible nourriture accoutum\u00e9e et de\nson app\u00e9tit cannibale, je devais lui faire go\u00fbter d\u2019autre viande:\nje l\u2019emmenai donc un matin dans les bois. J\u2019y allais, au fait, dans\nl\u2019intention de tuer un cabri de mon troupeau pour l\u2019apporter et\nl\u2019appr\u00eater au logis; mais, chemin faisant, je vis une ch\u00e8vre couch\u00e9e \u00e0\nl\u2019ombre, avec deux jeunes chevreaux \u00e0 ses c\u00f4t\u00e9s. L\u00e0-dessus j\u2019arr\u00eatai\nVendredi.\u2014\u00abHol\u00e0! ne bouge pas,\u00bb lui dis-je en lui faisant signe de ne\npas remuer. Au m\u00eame instant je mis mon fusil en joue, je tirai et je\ntuai un des chevreaux. Le pauvre diable, qui m\u2019avait vu, il est vrai,\ntuer \u00e0 une grande distance le sauvage son ennemi, mais qui n\u2019avait\npu imaginer comment cela s\u2019\u00e9tait fait, fut jet\u00e9 dans une \u00e9trange\nsurprise. Il tremblait, il chancelait, et avait l\u2019air si constern\u00e9 que\nje pensai le voir tomber en d\u00e9faillance. Il ne regarda pas le chevreau\nsur lequel j\u2019avais fait feu ou ne s\u2019aper\u00e7ut pas que je l\u2019avais tu\u00e9,\nmais il arracha sa veste pour s\u2019assurer s\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait point bless\u00e9\nlui-m\u00eame. Il croyait sans doute que j\u2019avais r\u00e9solu de me d\u00e9faire de\nlui; car il vint s\u2019agenouiller devant moi, et, embrassant mes genoux,\nil me dit une multitude de choses o\u00f9 je n\u2019entendis rien, sinon qu\u2019il\nme suppliait de ne pas le tuer.\n[Illustration: Je mis mon fusil en joue.]\nJe trouvai bient\u00f4t un moyen de le convaincre que je ne voulais point\nlui faire du mal: je le pris par la main et le relevai en souriant,\net lui montrant du doigt le chevreau que j\u2019avais atteint, je lui fis\nsigne de l\u2019aller qu\u00e9rir. Il ob\u00e9it. Tandis qu\u2019il s\u2019\u00e9merveillait et\ncherchait \u00e0 voir comment cet animal avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9, je rechargeai mon\nfusil, et au m\u00eame instant j\u2019aper\u00e7us, perch\u00e9 sur un arbre \u00e0 port\u00e9e de\nmousquet, un grand oiseau semblable \u00e0 un faucon. Afin que Vendredi\ncompr\u00eet un peu ce que j\u2019allais faire, je le rappelai vers moi en lui\nmontrant l\u2019oiseau; c\u2019\u00e9tait, au fait, un perroquet, bien que je l\u2019eusse\npris pour un faucon. Je lui d\u00e9signai donc le perroquet, puis mon\nfusil, puis la terre au-dessous du perroquet, pour lui indiquer que\nje voulais l\u2019abattre et lui donner \u00e0 entendre que je voulais tirer\nsur cet oiseau et le tuer. En cons\u00e9quence je fis feu; je lui ordonnai\nde regarder, et sur-le-champ il vit tomber le perroquet. Nonobstant\ntout ce que je lui avais dit, il demeura encore l\u00e0 comme un effar\u00e9. Je\nconjecturai qu\u2019il \u00e9tait \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 ainsi parce qu\u2019il ne m\u2019avait rien\nvu mettre dans mon fusil, et qu\u2019il pensait que c\u2019\u00e9tait une source\nmerveilleuse de mort et de destruction propre \u00e0 tuer hommes, b\u00eates,\noiseaux, ou quoi que ce f\u00fbt, de pr\u00e8s ou de loin.\nSon \u00e9tonnement fut tel, que de longtemps il n\u2019en put revenir; et je\ncrois que si je l\u2019eusse laiss\u00e9 faire, il m\u2019aurait ador\u00e9, moi et mon\nfusil. Quant au fusil lui-m\u00eame, il n\u2019osa pas y toucher de plusieurs\njours; mais lorsqu\u2019il en \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s, il lui parlait et l\u2019implorait\ncomme s\u2019il eut pu lui r\u00e9pondre. C\u2019\u00e9tait, je l\u2019appris dans la suite,\npour le prier de ne pas le tuer.\nLorsque sa frayeur se fut un peu dissip\u00e9e, je lui fis signe de courir\nchercher l\u2019oiseau que j\u2019avais frapp\u00e9, ce qu\u2019il fit; mais il fut assez\nlongtemps absent, car le perroquet, n\u2019\u00e9tant pas tout \u00e0 fait mort,\ns\u2019\u00e9tait tra\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0 une grande distance de l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 je l\u2019avais\nabattu. Toutefois il le trouva, le ramassa et vint me l\u2019apporter.\nComme je m\u2019\u00e9tais aper\u00e7u de son ignorance \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9gard de mon fusil, je\nprofitai de son \u00e9loignement pour le recharger sans qu\u2019il p\u00fbt me voir,\nafin d\u2019\u00eatre tout pr\u00eat s\u2019il se pr\u00e9sentait une autre occasion: mais plus\nrien ne s\u2019offrit alors.\u2014J\u2019apportai donc le chevreau \u00e0 la maison, et le\nm\u00eame soir je l\u2019\u00e9corchai et je le d\u00e9pe\u00e7ai de mon mieux. Comme j\u2019avais\nun vase convenable, j\u2019en mis bouillir ou consommer quelques morceaux,\net je fis un excellent bouillon. Apr\u00e8s que j\u2019eus t\u00e2t\u00e9 de cette viande,\nj\u2019en donnai \u00e0 mon serviteur, qui en parut tr\u00e8s content et trouva cela\nfort de son go\u00fbt. Mais ce qui le surprit beaucoup, ce fut de me voir\nmanger du sel avec la viande. Il me fit signe que le sel n\u2019\u00e9tait pas\nbon \u00e0 manger, et, en ayant mis un peu dans sa bouche, son c\u0153ur sembla\nse soulever, il le cracha et le recracha, puis se rin\u00e7a la bouche\navec de l\u2019eau fra\u00eeche. A mon tour je pris une bouch\u00e9e de viande sans\nsel, et je me mis \u00e0 cracher et \u00e0 crachoter aussi vite qu\u2019il avait\nfait; mais cela ne le d\u00e9cida point, et il ne se soucia jamais de saler\nsa viande ou son bouillon, si ce n\u2019est que fort longtemps apr\u00e8s, et\nencore ce ne fut que tr\u00e8s peu.\nApr\u00e8s lui avoir fait ainsi go\u00fbter du bouilli et du bouillon, je\nr\u00e9solus de le r\u00e9galer le lendemain d\u2019une pi\u00e8ce de chevreau r\u00f4ti. Pour\nla faire cuire, je la suspendis \u00e0 une ficelle devant le feu,\u2014comme je\nl\u2019avais vu pratiquer \u00e0 beaucoup de gens en Angleterre,\u2014en plantant\ndeux pieux, un sur chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 du brasier, avec un troisi\u00e8me pieu pos\u00e9\nen travers sur leur sommet, en attachant la ficelle \u00e0 cette traverse,\net en faisant tourner la viande continuellement. Vendredi s\u2019\u00e9merveilla\nde cette invention; et quand il vint \u00e0 manger de ce r\u00f4ti, il s\u2019y prit\nde tant de mani\u00e8res pour me faire savoir combien il le trouvait \u00e0 son\ngo\u00fbt, que je n\u2019eusse pu ne pas le comprendre. Enfin il me d\u00e9clara que\nd\u00e9sormais il ne mangerait plus d\u2019aucune chair humaine, ce dont je fus\nfort aise.\nLe jour suivant, je l\u2019occupai \u00e0 piler du bl\u00e9 et \u00e0 bluter, suivant la\nmani\u00e8re que je mentionnai autrefois. Il apprit promptement \u00e0 faire\ncela aussi bien que moi, apr\u00e8s surtout qu\u2019il eut compris quel en\n\u00e9tait le but, et que c\u2019\u00e9tait pour faire du pain, car ensuite je lui\nmontrai \u00e0 p\u00e9trir et \u00e0 cuire au four. En peu de temps Vendredi devint\ncapable d\u2019ex\u00e9cuter toute ma besogne aussi bien que moi-m\u00eame.\nJe commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir qu\u2019ayant deux bouches \u00e0 nourrir au\nlieu d\u2019une, je devais me pourvoir de plus de terrain pour ma maison\net semer une plus grande quantit\u00e9 de grain que de coutume. Je choisis\ndonc une plus grande pi\u00e8ce de terre, et me mis \u00e0 l\u2019enclore de la\nm\u00eame fa\u00e7on que mes autres champs, ce \u00e0 quoi Vendredi travailla non\nseulement volontiers et de tout c\u0153ur, mais tr\u00e8s joyeusement. Je lui\ndis que c\u2019\u00e9tait pour avoir du bl\u00e9 de quoi faire plus de pain, parce\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait maintenant avec moi et afin que je pusse en avoir assez\npour lui et pour moi-m\u00eame, il parut tr\u00e8s sensible \u00e0 cette attention,\net me fit conna\u00eetre qu\u2019il pensait que je prenais beaucoup plus de\npeine pour lui que pour moi, et qu\u2019il travaillerait plus rudement si\nje voulais lui dire ce qu\u2019il fallait faire.\nCette ann\u00e9e fut la plus agr\u00e9able de toutes celles que je passai dans\nl\u2019\u00eele. Vendredi commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 parler assez bien et \u00e0 entendre le nom de\npresque toutes les choses que j\u2019avais occasion de nommer et de tous\nles lieux o\u00f9 j\u2019avais \u00e0 l\u2019envoyer. Il jasait beaucoup, de sorte qu\u2019en\npeu de temps je recouvrai l\u2019usage de ma langue, qui auparavant m\u2019\u00e9tait\nfort peu utile, du moins quant \u00e0 la parole. Outre le plaisir que je\npuisais dans sa conversation, j\u2019avais \u00e0 me louer de lui-m\u00eame tout\nparticuli\u00e8rement; sa simple et na\u00efve candeur m\u2019apparaissait de plus\nen plus chaque jour. Je commen\u00e7ais r\u00e9ellement \u00e0 aimer cette cr\u00e9ature,\nqui, de son c\u00f4t\u00e9, je crois, m\u2019aimait plus que tout ce qu\u2019il lui avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 possible d\u2019aimer jusque-l\u00e0.\nUn jour j\u2019eus envie de savoir s\u2019il n\u2019avait pas quelque penchant \u00e0\nretourner dans sa patrie; et, comme je lui avais si bien appris\nl\u2019anglais qu\u2019il pouvait r\u00e9pondre \u00e0 la plupart de mes questions, je\nlui demandai si la nation \u00e0 laquelle il appartenait ne vainquait\njamais dans les batailles. A cela il se mit \u00e0 sourire et me dit:\u2014\u00abOui,\noui, nous toujours se battre le meilleur;\u00bb\u2014il voulait dire: nous\navons toujours l\u2019avantage dans le combat. Et ainsi nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes\nl\u2019entretien suivant:\u2014Vous toujours se battre le meilleur; d\u2019o\u00f9 vient\nalors, Vendredi, que tu as \u00e9t\u00e9 fait prisonnier?\nVENDREDI.\u2014Ma nation battre beaucoup pour tout cela.\nLE MA\u00ceTRE.\u2014Comment battre? Si la nation les a battus, comment se\nfait-il que tu aies \u00e9t\u00e9 pris?\nVENDREDI.\u2014Eux plus que ma nation dans la place o\u00f9 moi \u00e9tais; eux\nprendre un, deux, trois et moi. Ma nation battre eux tout \u00e0 fait dans\nla place l\u00e0-bas o\u00f9 moi n\u2019\u00eatre pas; l\u00e0 ma nation prendre un, deux,\ngrand mille.\nLE MA\u00ceTRE.\u2014Mais pourquoi alors ne te reprit-elle pas des mains de\nl\u2019ennemi?\nVENDREDI.\u2014Eux emporter un, deux, trois et moi, et faire aller dans le\ncanot; ma nation n\u2019avoir pas canot cette fois.\nLE MA\u00ceTRE.\u2014Eh bien, Vendredi, que fait la nation des hommes qu\u2019elle\nprend? Les emm\u00e8ne-t-elle et les mange-t-elle aussi?\nVENDREDI.\u2014Oui, ma nation manger hommes aussi, manger tous.\nLE MA\u00ceTRE.\u2014O\u00f9 les m\u00e8ne-t-elle?\nVENDREDI.\u2014Aller \u00e0 toute place o\u00f9 elle pense.\nLE MA\u00ceTRE.\u2014Vient-elle ici?\nVENDREDI.\u2014Oui, oui; elle venir ici, venir autre place.\nLE MA\u00ceTRE.\u2014Es-tu venu ici avec vos gens?\nVENDREDI.\u2014Oui, moi venir l\u00e0.\u2014Il montrait du doigt le c\u00f4t\u00e9 nord-ouest\nde l\u2019\u00eele qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, \u00e9tait le c\u00f4t\u00e9 qu\u2019ils affectionnaient.\nPar l\u00e0 je compris que mon serviteur Vendredi avait \u00e9t\u00e9 jadis du nombre\ndes sauvages qui avaient coutume de venir au rivage dans la partie\nla plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e de l\u2019\u00eele, pour manger de la chair humaine qu\u2019ils\ny apportaient; et quelque temps apr\u00e8s, lorsque je pris le courage\nd\u2019aller avec lui de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, qui \u00e9tait le m\u00eame dont je fis mention\nautrefois, il reconnut l\u2019endroit de prime abord, et me dit que l\u00e0 il\n\u00e9tait venu une fois, qu\u2019on y avait mang\u00e9 vingt hommes, deux femmes et\nun enfant. Il ne savait pas compter jusqu\u2019\u00e0 vingt en anglais; mais il\nmit autant de pierres sur un m\u00eame rang et me pria de les compter.\nJ\u2019ai narr\u00e9 ce fait parce qu\u2019il est l\u2019introduction de ce qui\nsuit.\u2014Apr\u00e8s que j\u2019eus eu cet entretien avec lui, je lui demandai\ncombien il y avait de notre \u00eele au continent, et si les canots\nrarement p\u00e9rissaient. Il me r\u00e9pondit qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait point de danger,\nque jamais il ne se perdait un canot; qu\u2019un peu plus avant en mer on\ntrouvait dans la matin\u00e9e toujours le m\u00eame courant et le m\u00eame vent, et\ndans l\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi un vent et un courant oppos\u00e9s.\nJe m\u2019imaginai d\u2019abord que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait autre chose que les mouvements de\nla mar\u00e9e, le jusant et le flot; mais je compris dans la suite que la\ncause de cela \u00e9tait le grand flux et reflux de la puissante rivi\u00e8re\nde l\u2019Or\u00e9noque,\u2014dans l\u2019embouchure de laquelle, comme je le reconnus\nplus tard, notre \u00eele \u00e9tait situ\u00e9e, et que la terre que je d\u00e9couvrais\n\u00e0 l\u2019ouest et au nord-ouest \u00e9tait la grande \u00eele de la Trinit\u00e9, sise\n\u00e0 la pointe septentrionale des bouches de ce fleuve. J\u2019adressai \u00e0\nVendredi mille questions touchant la contr\u00e9e, les habitants, la mer,\nles c\u00f4tes et les peuples qui en \u00e9taient voisins, et il me dit tout ce\nqu\u2019il savait avec la plus grande ouverture de c\u0153ur imaginable. Je lui\ndemandai aussi les noms de ces diff\u00e9rentes nations; mais je ne pus\nobtenir pour toute r\u00e9ponse que Caribs, d\u2019o\u00f9 je d\u00e9duisis ais\u00e9ment que\nc\u2019\u00e9taient les Caribes, que nos cartes placent dans cette partie de\nl\u2019Am\u00e9rique qui s\u2019\u00e9tend de l\u2019embouchure du fleuve de l\u2019Or\u00e9noque vers la\nGuyane et jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Sainte-Marthe. Il me raconta que bien loin par del\u00e0\nla lune, il voulait dire par del\u00e0 le couchant de la lune, ce qui doit\n\u00eatre \u00e0 l\u2019ouest de leur contr\u00e9e, il y avait, me montrant du doigt mes\ngrandes moustaches, dont autrefois je fis mention, des hommes blancs\net barbus comme moi et qu\u2019ils avaient tu\u00e9 beaucoup hommes, ce fut son\nexpression. Je compris qu\u2019il d\u00e9signait par l\u00e0 les Espagnols, dont les\ncruaut\u00e9s en Am\u00e9rique se sont \u00e9tendues sur tous ces pays, cruaut\u00e9s dont\nchaque nation garde un souvenir qui se transmet de p\u00e8re en fils.\nJe lui demandai encore s\u2019il savait comment je pourrais aller de mon\n\u00eele jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ces hommes blancs. Il me r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abOui, oui, pouvoir y\naller dans deux canots.\u00bb\u2014Je n\u2019imaginais pas ce qu\u2019il voulait dire\npar deux canots. A la fin cependant je compris, non sans grande\ndifficult\u00e9, qu\u2019il fallait \u00eatre dans un grand et large bateau aussi\ngros que deux pirogues.\nCette partie du discours de Vendredi me fit grand plaisir; et depuis\nlors je con\u00e7us quelque esp\u00e9rance de pouvoir trouver une fois ou autre\nl\u2019occasion de m\u2019\u00e9chapper de ce lieu avec l\u2019assistance que ce pauvre\nsauvage me pr\u00eaterait.\nDurant tout le temps que Vendredi avait pass\u00e9 avec moi, depuis qu\u2019il\navait commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 me parler et \u00e0 me comprendre, je n\u2019avais pas n\u00e9glig\u00e9\nde jeter dans son \u00e2me le fondement des connaissances religieuses.\nUn jour, entre autres, je lui demandai qui l\u2019avait fait. Le pauvre\ngar\u00e7on ne me comprit pas du tout, et pensa que je lui demandais\nqui \u00e9tait son p\u00e8re. Je donnai donc un autre tour \u00e0 ma question, et\nje lui demandai qui avait fait la mer, la terre o\u00f9 il marchait, et\nles montagnes et les bois. Il me r\u00e9pondit que c\u2019\u00e9tait le vieillard\nBenamuck\u00e9e, qui vivait au del\u00e0 de tout. Il ne put rien ajouter sur ce\ngrand personnage, sinon qu\u2019il \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s vieux; beaucoup plus vieux,\ndisait-il, que la mer ou la terre, que la lune ou les \u00e9toiles. Je\nlui demandai alors, si ce vieux personnage avait fait toutes choses,\npourquoi toutes choses ne l\u2019adoraient pas. Il devint tr\u00e8s s\u00e9rieux,\net avec un air parfait d\u2019innocence il me repartit:\u2014\u00abToute chose lui\ndit: O!\u00bb\u2014\u00abMais, repris-je, les gens qui meurent dans ce pays s\u2019en\nvont-ils quelque part?\u00bb \u2014\u00abOui, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il, eux tous aller vers\nBenamuck\u00e9e.\u00bb\u2014Enfin je lui demandai si ceux qu\u2019on mange y vont de\nm\u00eame,\u2014et il r\u00e9pondit: Oui.\nJe pris de l\u00e0 occasion de l\u2019instruire dans la connaissance du vrai\nDieu. Je lui dis que le grand cr\u00e9ateur de toutes choses vit l\u00e0-haut,\nen lui d\u00e9signant du doigt le ciel; qu\u2019il gouverne le monde avec le\nm\u00eame pouvoir et la m\u00eame providence par lesquels il l\u2019a cr\u00e9\u00e9; qu\u2019il est\ntout-puissant et peut faire tout pour nous, nous donner tout, et nous\n\u00f4ter tout. Ainsi, par degr\u00e9s, je lui ouvris les yeux. Il m\u2019\u00e9coutait\navec une grande attention, et recevait avec plaisir la notion de\nJ\u00e9sus-Christ\u2014envoy\u00e9 pour nous racheter\u2014et de notre mani\u00e8re de prier\nDieu, qui peut nous entendre, m\u00eame dans le ciel. Il me dit un jour que\nsi notre Dieu pouvait nous entendre de par del\u00e0 le soleil, il devait\n\u00eatre un plus grand Dieu que leur Benamuck\u00e9e, qui ne vivait pas si\nloin, et cependant ne pouvait les entendre, \u00e0 moins qu\u2019ils ne vinssent\nlui parler sur les grandes montagnes, o\u00f9 il faisait sa demeure.\nJe lui demandai s\u2019il \u00e9tait jamais all\u00e9 lui parler. Il me r\u00e9pondit que\nnon; que les jeunes gens n\u2019y allaient jamais, que personne n\u2019y allait\nque les vieillards, qu\u2019il nommait leur Oowookak\u00e9e, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire, je me\nle fis expliquer par lui, leurs religieux ou leur clerg\u00e9, et que ces\nvieillards allaient lui dire: O!\u2014c\u2019est ainsi qu\u2019il appelait faire des\npri\u00e8res;\u2014puisque, lorsqu\u2019ils revenaient, ils leur rapportaient ce que\nBenamuck\u00e9e avait dit.\nJe fis mes efforts pour rendre sensible \u00e0 mon serviteur Vendredi la\nsupercherie de ces vieillards, en lui disant que leur pr\u00e9tention\nd\u2019aller sur les montagnes pour dire O! \u00e0 leur dieu Benamuck\u00e9e \u00e9tait\nune imposture, que les paroles qu\u2019ils lui attribuaient l\u2019\u00e9taient bien\nplus encore, et que s\u2019ils recevaient l\u00e0 quelques r\u00e9ponses et parlaient\nr\u00e9ellement avec quelqu\u2019un, ce devait \u00eatre avec un mauvais esprit.\nAlors, j\u2019entrai en un long discours touchant le diable, son origine,\nsa r\u00e9bellion contre Dieu, sa haine pour les hommes, la raison de\ncette haine, son penchant \u00e0 se faire adorer dans les parties obscures\ndu monde au lieu de Dieu et comme Dieu, et la foule de stratag\u00e8mes\ndont il use pour entra\u00eener le genre humain \u00e0 sa ruine; enfin, l\u2019acc\u00e8s\nsecret qu\u2019il se m\u00e9nage aupr\u00e8s de nos passions et de nos affections\npour adapter ses pi\u00e8ges si bien \u00e0 nos inclinations, qu\u2019il nous rend\nnos propres tentateurs, et nous fait courir \u00e0 notre perte par notre\npropre choix.\n[Illustration: J\u2019entrai en un long discours.]\nJe trouvai qu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas aussi facile d\u2019imprimer dans son esprit\nde justes notions sur le diable qu\u2019il l\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de lui en donner sur\nl\u2019existence d\u2019un Dieu. La nature appuyait tous mes arguments pour lui\nd\u00e9montrer m\u00eame la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d\u2019une grande cause premi\u00e8re, d\u2019un supr\u00eame\npouvoir dominateur, d\u2019une secr\u00e8te Providence directrice, et l\u2019\u00e9quit\u00e9\net la justice du tribut d\u2019hommages que nous devons lui payer. Mais\nrien de tout cela ne se pr\u00e9sentait dans la notion sur le malin esprit,\nsur son origine, son existence, sa nature, et principalement son\ninclination \u00e0 faire le mal et \u00e0 nous entra\u00eener \u00e0 le faire aussi. Le\npauvre gar\u00e7on m\u2019embarrassa un jour tellement par une question purement\nnaturelle et innocente, que je sus \u00e0 peine que lui dire. Je lui avais\nparl\u00e9 longuement du pouvoir de Dieu, de sa toute-puissance, de sa\nterrible d\u00e9testation du p\u00e9ch\u00e9, du feu d\u00e9vorant qu\u2019il a pr\u00e9par\u00e9 pour\nles ouvriers d\u2019iniquit\u00e9; enfin, nous ayant tous cr\u00e9\u00e9s, de son pouvoir\nde nous d\u00e9truire, de d\u00e9truire l\u2019univers en un moment; et tout ce\ntemps il m\u2019avait \u00e9cout\u00e9 avec un grand s\u00e9rieux.\nVenant ensuite \u00e0 lui conter que le d\u00e9mon \u00e9tait l\u2019ennemi de Dieu dans\nle c\u0153ur de l\u2019homme, et qu\u2019il usait toute sa malice et son habilet\u00e9 \u00e0\nrenverser les bons desseins de la Providence et \u00e0 ruiner le royaume\nde Christ sur la terre:\u2014\u00abEh bien! interrompit Vendredi, vous dire\nDieu est si fort, si grand; est-il pas beaucoup plus fort, beaucoup\nplus puissance que le diable?\u00bb \u00ab\u2014Oui, oui, dis-je, Vendredi; Dieu\nest plus fort que le diable, Dieu est au-dessus du diable, et c\u2019est\npourquoi nous prions Dieu de le mettre sous nos pieds, de nous rendre\ncapables de r\u00e9sister \u00e0 ses tentations et d\u2019\u00e9teindre ses aiguillons de\nfeu.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMais, reprit-il, si Dieu, beaucoup plus fort, beaucoup plus\npuissance que le diable, pourquoi Dieu pas tuer le diable pour faire\nlui non plus m\u00e9chant?\u00bb\nJe fus \u00e9trangement surpris \u00e0 cette question. Au fait, bien que je\nfusse alors un vieil homme, je n\u2019\u00e9tais pourtant qu\u2019un jeune docteur,\nn\u2019ayant gu\u00e8re les qualit\u00e9s requises d\u2019un casuiste ou d\u2019un _r\u00e9solveur_\nde difficult\u00e9s. D\u2019abord, ne sachant que dire, je fis semblant de ne\npas l\u2019entendre, et lui demandai ce qu\u2019il disait. Mais il tenait trop\n\u00e0 une r\u00e9ponse pour oublier sa question, et il la r\u00e9p\u00e9ta de m\u00eame, dans\nson langage d\u00e9cousu. J\u2019avais eu le temps de me remettre un peu; je\nlui dis:\u2014\u00abDieu veut le punir s\u00e9v\u00e8rement \u00e0 la fin: il le r\u00e9serve pour\nle jour du jugement, o\u00f9 il sera jet\u00e9 dans l\u2019ab\u00eeme sans fond, pour\ndemeurer dans le feu \u00e9ternel.\u00bb\u2014Ceci ne satisfit pas Vendredi; il\nrevint \u00e0 la charge en r\u00e9p\u00e9tant mes paroles:\u2014\u00abR\u00e9serv\u00e9 \u00e0 la fin! moi\npas comprendre; mais pourquoi pas tuer le diable maintenant, pourquoi\npas tuer grand auparavant?\u00bb\u2014\u00abTu pourrais aussi bien me demander,\nrepartis-je, pourquoi Dieu ne nous tue pas, toi et moi, quand nous\nfaisons des choses m\u00e9chantes qui l\u2019offensent; il nous conserve pour\nque nous puissions nous repentir et puissions \u00eatre pardonn\u00e9s.\u00bb\nApr\u00e8s avoir r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi un moment \u00e0 cela:\u2014\u00ab Bien, bien, dit-il tr\u00e8s\naffectueusement, cela est bien; ainsi, vous, moi, diable, tous\nm\u00e9chants, tous pr\u00e9server, tous repentir, Dieu pardonner tous.\u00bb \u2014Je\nretombai donc encore dans une surprise extr\u00eame, et ceci fut une preuve\npour moi que bien que les simples notions de la nature conduisent les\ncr\u00e9atures raisonnables \u00e0 la connaissance de Dieu et de l\u2019adoration ou\nhommage d\u00fb \u00e0 son essence supr\u00eame comme la cons\u00e9quence de notre nature,\ncependant la divine r\u00e9v\u00e9lation seule peut amener \u00e0 la connaissance de\nJ\u00e9sus-Christ, et d\u2019une r\u00e9demption op\u00e9r\u00e9e pour nous, d\u2019un m\u00e9diateur,\nd\u2019une nouvelle alliance, et d\u2019un intercesseur devant le tr\u00f4ne de Dieu.\nUne r\u00e9v\u00e9lation venant du ciel peut seule, dis-je, imprimer ces notions\ndans l\u2019\u00e2me; par cons\u00e9quent, l\u2019\u00c9vangile de Notre-Seigneur et Sauveur\nJ\u00e9sus-Christ\u2014j\u2019entends la parole divine,\u2014et l\u2019Esprit de Dieu promis\n\u00e0 son peuple pour guide et sanctificateur, sont les instructeurs\nessentiels de l\u2019\u00e2me des hommes dans la connaissance salutaire de Dieu\net les voies du salut.\nJ\u2019interrompis donc le pr\u00e9sent entretien entre moi et mon serviteur\nen me levant \u00e0 la h\u00e2te, comme si quelque affaire subite m\u2019e\u00fbt appel\u00e9\ndehors; et, l\u2019envoyant alors bien loin, sous quelque pr\u00e9texte, je\nme mis \u00e0 prier Dieu ardemment de me rendre capable d\u2019instruire\nsalutairement cet infortun\u00e9 sauvage en pr\u00e9parant par son Esprit le\nc\u0153ur de cette pauvre ignorante cr\u00e9ature \u00e0 recevoir la lumi\u00e8re de\nl\u2019\u00c9vangile, en la r\u00e9conciliant \u00e0 lui, et de me rendre capable de\nl\u2019entretenir si efficacement de la parole divine, que ses yeux pussent\n\u00eatre ouverts, sa conscience convaincue et son \u00e2me sauv\u00e9e. Quand il\nfut de retour, j\u2019entrai avec lui dans une longue dissertation sur la\nr\u00e9demption des hommes par le Sauveur du monde, et sur la doctrine de\nl\u2019\u00c9vangile annonc\u00e9e de la part du ciel, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire la repentance\nenvers Dieu et la foi en notre Sauveur J\u00e9sus. Je lui expliquai de mon\nmieux pourquoi notre divin R\u00e9dempteur n\u2019avait pas rev\u00eatu la nature des\nanges, mais bien la race d\u2019Abraham, et comment, pour cette raison, les\nanges tomb\u00e9s \u00e9taient exclus de la r\u00e9demption, venue seulement pour les\nBREBIS \u00c9GAR\u00c9ES DE LA MAISON D\u2019ISRA\u00cbL.\nIl y avait, Dieu le sait, plus de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 que de science dans\ntoutes les m\u00e9thodes que je pris pour l\u2019instruction de cette\nmalheureuse cr\u00e9ature, et je dois reconna\u00eetre ce que tout autre, je\npense, \u00e9prouvera en pareil cas, qu\u2019en lui exposant les choses d\u2019une\nfa\u00e7on \u00e9vidente, je m\u2019instruisis moi-m\u00eame en plusieurs choses que\nj\u2019ignorais ou que je n\u2019avais pas approfondies auparavant, mais qui\nse pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent naturellement \u00e0 mon esprit, quand je me pris \u00e0 les\nfouiller pour l\u2019enseignement de ce pauvre sauvage. En cette occasion,\nje mis m\u00eame \u00e0 la recherche de ces choses plus de ferveur que je ne\nm\u2019en \u00e9tais senti de ma vie. Si bien que j\u2019aie r\u00e9ussi ou non avec cet\ninfortun\u00e9, je n\u2019en avais pas moins de fortes raisons pour remercier\nle ciel de me l\u2019avoir envoy\u00e9. Le chagrin glissait plus l\u00e9g\u00e8rement\nsur moi; mon habitation devenait excessivement confortable; et quand\nje r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais que, dans cette vie solitaire \u00e0 laquelle j\u2019avais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 condamn\u00e9, je n\u2019avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 seulement conduit \u00e0 tourner mes\nregards vers le ciel et \u00e0 chercher le bras qui m\u2019avait exil\u00e9, mais\nque j\u2019\u00e9tais devenu un instrument de la Providence pour sauver la vie\net sans doute l\u2019\u00e2me d\u2019un pauvre sauvage, et pour l\u2019amener \u00e0 la vraie\nscience de la religion et de la doctrine chr\u00e9tiennes, afin qu\u2019il p\u00fbt\nconna\u00eetre le Christ J\u00e9sus, afin qu\u2019il p\u00fbt conna\u00eetre celui qui est la\nvie \u00e9ternelle; quand, dis-je, je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais sur toutes ces choses,\nune joie secr\u00e8te s\u2019\u00e9panouissait dans mon \u00e2me, et souvent m\u00eame je me\nf\u00e9licitais d\u2019avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9 en ce lieu, ce que j\u2019avais tant de fois\nregard\u00e9 comme la plus terrible de toutes les afflictions qui eussent\npu m\u2019advenir.\nDans cet esprit de reconnaissance, j\u2019achevai le reste de mon exil.\nMes conversations avec Vendredi employaient si bien mes heures, que\nje passai les trois ann\u00e9es que nous v\u00e9c\u00fbmes l\u00e0 ensemble parfaitement\net compl\u00e8tement heureux, si toutefois il est une condition sublunaire\nqui puisse \u00eatre appel\u00e9e bonheur parfait. Le sauvage \u00e9tait alors un\nbon chr\u00e9tien, un bien meilleur chr\u00e9tien que moi; quoique, Dieu en\nsoit b\u00e9ni! j\u2019aie quelque raison d\u2019esp\u00e9rer que nous \u00e9tions \u00e9galement\np\u00e9nitents, et des p\u00e9nitents consol\u00e9s et r\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e9r\u00e9s.\u2014Nous avions la\nparole de Dieu \u00e0 lire et son Esprit pour nous diriger, tout comme si\nnous eussions \u00e9t\u00e9 en Angleterre.\nJe m\u2019appliquais constamment \u00e0 lire l\u2019\u00c9criture et \u00e0 lui expliquer de\nmon mieux le sens de ce que je lisais; et lui, \u00e0 son tour, par ses\nexamens et ses questions s\u00e9rieuses, me rendait, comme je le disais\ntout \u00e0 l\u2019heure, un docteur bien plus habile dans la connaissance des\ndeux Testaments que je ne l\u2019aurais jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 si j\u2019eusse fait une\nlecture priv\u00e9e. Il est encore une chose, fruit de l\u2019exp\u00e9rience de\ncette portion de ma vie solitaire, que je ne puis passer sous silence:\noui, c\u2019est un bonheur infini et inexprimable que la science de Dieu et\nla doctrine du salut par J\u00e9sus-Christ soient si clairement expos\u00e9es\ndans les Testaments, et qu\u2019elles soient si faciles \u00e0 \u00eatre re\u00e7ues et\nentendues, que leur simple lecture p\u00fbt me donner assez le sentiment de\nmon devoir pour me porter directement au grand \u0153uvre de la repentance\nsinc\u00e8re de mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s, et pour me porter, en m\u2019attachant \u00e0 un sauveur,\nsource de vie et de salut, \u00e0 pratiquer une r\u00e9forme et \u00e0 me soumettre\n\u00e0 tous les commandements de Dieu, et cela sans aucun ma\u00eetre ou\npr\u00e9cepteur, j\u2019entends humain. Cette simple instruction se trouva de\nm\u00eame suffisante pour \u00e9clairer mon pauvre sauvage et pour en faire un\nchr\u00e9tien tel que de ma vie j\u2019en ai peu connu qui le valussent.\nQuant aux disputes, aux controverses, aux pointilleries, aux\ncontestations qui furent soulev\u00e9es dans le monde touchant la\nreligion, soit subtilit\u00e9s de doctrine, soit projets de gouvernement\neccl\u00e9siastique, elles \u00e9taient pour nous tout \u00e0 fait chose vaine,\ncomme, autant que j\u2019en puis juger, elles l\u2019ont \u00e9t\u00e9 pour le reste\ndu genre humain. Nous \u00e9tions s\u00fbrement guid\u00e9s vers le ciel par les\n\u00c9critures; et nous \u00e9tions \u00e9clair\u00e9s par l\u2019Esprit consolateur de Dieu,\nnous enseignant et nous instruisant par sa parole, nous conduisant\n\u00e0 toute v\u00e9rit\u00e9 et nous rendant l\u2019un et l\u2019autre soumis et ob\u00e9issants\naux enseignements de sa loi. Je ne vois pas que nous aurions pu faire\nle moindre usage de la connaissance la plus approfondie des points\ndisput\u00e9s en religion qui r\u00e9pandirent tant de troubles sur la terre,\nquand bien m\u00eame nous eussions pu y parvenir.\u2014Mais il me faut reprendre\nle fil de mon histoire, et suivre chaque chose dans son ordre.\nApr\u00e8s que Vendredi et moi e\u00fbmes fait une plus intime connaissance,\nlorsqu\u2019il put comprendre presque tout ce que je lui disais et parler\ncouramment, quoique en mauvais anglais, je lui fis le r\u00e9cit de mes\naventures ou de celles qui se rattachaient \u00e0 ma venue dans l\u2019\u00eele;\ncomment j\u2019y avais v\u00e9cu et depuis combien de temps. Je l\u2019initiai au\nmyst\u00e8re,\u2014car c\u2019en \u00e9tait un pour lui,\u2014de la poudre et des balles, et\nje lui appris \u00e0 tirer. Je lui donnai un couteau, ce qui lui fit un\nplaisir extr\u00eame; et je lui ajustai un ceinturon avec un fourreau\nsuspendu, semblable \u00e0 ceux o\u00f9 l\u2019on porte en Angleterre les couteaux de\nchasse; mais dans la gaine, au lieu de coutelas, je mis une hachette,\nqui non seulement \u00e9tait une bonne arme en quelques occasions, mais une\narme beaucoup plus utile dans une foule d\u2019autres.\nJe lui fis une description des contr\u00e9es de l\u2019Europe, et\nparticuli\u00e8rement de l\u2019Angleterre, ma patrie. Je lui contai comment\nnous vivions, comment nous adorions Dieu, comment nous nous\nconduisions les uns envers les autres, et comment, dans des vaisseaux,\nnous trafiquions avec toutes les parties du monde. Je lui donnai une\nid\u00e9e du b\u00e2timent naufrag\u00e9 \u00e0 bord duquel j\u2019\u00e9tais all\u00e9, et lui montrai\nd\u2019aussi pr\u00e8s que je pus la place o\u00f9 il avait \u00e9chou\u00e9; mais depuis\nlongtemps il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mis en pi\u00e8ces et avait enti\u00e8rement disparu.\nJe lui montrai aussi les d\u00e9bris de notre chaloupe, que nous perd\u00eemes\nquand nous nous sauv\u00e2mes de notre bord, et qu\u2019avec tous mes efforts,\nje n\u2019avais jamais pu remuer; mais elle \u00e9tait alors presque enti\u00e8rement\nd\u00e9labr\u00e9e. En apercevant cette embarcation, Vendredi demeura fort\nlongtemps pensif et sans prof\u00e9rer un seul mot. Je lui demandai ce \u00e0\nquoi il songeait; enfin il me dit:\u2014\u00abMoi voir pareil bateau ainsi venir\nau lieu \u00e0 ma nation.\u00bb\n[Illustration: En apercevant cette embarcation, Vendredi demeura fort\nlongtemps pensif.]\nJe fus longtemps sans deviner ce que cela signifiait; mais \u00e0 la\nfin, en y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissant bien, je compris qu\u2019une chaloupe pareille\navait d\u00e9riv\u00e9 sur le rivage qu\u2019il habitait, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire, comme il me\nl\u2019expliqua, y avait \u00e9t\u00e9 entra\u00een\u00e9e par une temp\u00eate. Aussit\u00f4t j\u2019imaginai\nque quelque vaisseau europ\u00e9en devait avoir fait naufrage sur cette\nc\u00f4te, et que sa chaloupe, s\u2019\u00e9tant sans doute d\u00e9tach\u00e9e, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9e\n\u00e0 terre; mais je fus si stupide que je ne songeai pas une seule fois\n\u00e0 des hommes s\u2019\u00e9chappant d\u2019un naufrage, et ne m\u2019informai pas d\u2019o\u00f9\nces embarcations pouvaient venir. Tout ce que je demandai, ce fut la\ndescription de ce bateau.\nVendredi me le d\u00e9crivit assez bien, mais il me mit beaucoup mieux \u00e0\nm\u00eame de le comprendre lorsqu\u2019il ajouta avec chaleur:\u2014\u00abNous sauver\nhommes blancs de noyer.\u00bb\u2014\u00abIl y avait donc, lui dis-je, des hommes\nblancs dans le bateau?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, r\u00e9pondit-il, le bateau plein d\u2019hommes\nblancs.\u00bb\u2014Je le questionnai sur leur nombre; il compta sur ses doigts\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 dix-sept.\u2014\u00abMais, repris-je alors, que sont-ils devenus?\u00bb\u2014\u00abIls\nvivent, ils demeurent chez ma nation.\u00bb\nCe r\u00e9cit me mit en t\u00eate de nouvelles pens\u00e9es: j\u2019imaginai aussit\u00f4t que\nce pouvaient \u00eatre les hommes appartenant au vaisseau \u00e9chou\u00e9 en vue\nde mon \u00eele, comme je l\u2019appelais alors; que ces gens, apr\u00e8s que le\nb\u00e2timent eut donn\u00e9 contre le rocher, le croyant in\u00e9vitablement perdu,\ns\u2019\u00e9taient jet\u00e9s dans leur chaloupe et avaient abord\u00e9 \u00e0 cette terre\nbarbare parmi les sauvages.\nSur ce, je m\u2019enquis plus curieusement de ce que ces hommes \u00e9taient\ndevenus. Il m\u2019assura qu\u2019ils vivaient encore, qu\u2019il y avait quatre ans\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient l\u00e0, que les sauvages les laissaient tranquilles et\nleur donnaient de quoi manger. Je lui demandai comment il se faisait\nqu\u2019ils n\u2019eussent point \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s et mang\u00e9s:\u2014\u00abNon, me dit-il, eux faire\nfr\u00e8re avec eux.\u00bb\u2014C\u2019est-\u00e0-dire, comme je le compris, qu\u2019ils avaient\nfraternis\u00e9. Puis il ajouta:\u2014\u00abEux manger non hommes que quand la guerre\nfait battre,\u00bb\u2014c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire qu\u2019ils ne mangent aucun homme qui ne se\nsoit battu contre eux et n\u2019ait \u00e9t\u00e9 fait prisonnier de guerre.\nIl arriva, assez longtemps apr\u00e8s ceci, que, se trouvant sur le sommet\nde la colline, \u00e0 l\u2019est de l\u2019\u00eele, d\u2019o\u00f9, comme je l\u2019ai narr\u00e9, j\u2019avais\ndans un jour serein d\u00e9couvert le continent de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique, il arriva,\ndis-je, que Vendredi, le temps \u00e9tant fort clair, regarda fixement\ndu c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la terre ferme, puis, dans une sorte d\u2019\u00e9bahissement,\nqu\u2019il se prit \u00e0 sauter, et \u00e0 danser, et \u00e0 m\u2019appeler, car j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0\nquelque distance. Je lui en demandai le sujet:\u2014\u00abO joie! \u00f4 joyeux!\ns\u2019\u00e9criait-il, l\u00e0 voir mon pays, l\u00e0 ma nation!\u00bb\nJe remarquai un sentiment de plaisir extraordinaire \u00e9panoui sur sa\nface; ses yeux \u00e9tincelaient, sa contenance trahissait une \u00e9trange\npassion, comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt eu un d\u00e9sir v\u00e9h\u00e9ment de retourner dans sa\npatrie. Cet air, cette expression \u00e9veilla en moi une multitude\nde pens\u00e9es qui me laiss\u00e8rent moins tranquille que je ne l\u2019\u00e9tais\nauparavant sur le compte de mon nouveau serviteur Vendredi; et je ne\nmis pas en doute que, si jamais il pouvait retourner chez sa propre\nnation, non seulement il oublierait toute sa religion, mais toutes les\nobligations qu\u2019il m\u2019avait, et qu\u2019il ne f\u00fbt assez perfide pour donner\ndes renseignements sur moi \u00e0 ses compatriotes, et revenir peut-\u00eatre,\navec quelques centaines des siens, pour faire de moi un festin auquel\nil assisterait aussi joyeux qu\u2019il avait eu pour habitude de l\u2019\u00eatre aux\nfestins de ses ennemis faits prisonniers de guerre.\nMais je faisais une violente injustice \u00e0 cette pauvre et honn\u00eate\ncr\u00e9ature, ce dont je fus tr\u00e8s chagrin par la suite. Cependant, comme\nma d\u00e9fiance s\u2019accrut et me poss\u00e9da pendant quelques semaines, je\ndevins plus circonspect, moins familier et moins affable avec lui; en\nquoi aussi j\u2019eus assur\u00e9ment tort: l\u2019honn\u00eate et agr\u00e9able gar\u00e7on n\u2019avait\npas une seule pens\u00e9e qui ne d\u00e9coul\u00e2t des meilleurs principes, tout \u00e0\nla fois comme un chr\u00e9tien religieux et comme un ami reconnaissant,\nainsi que plus tard je m\u2019en convainquis, \u00e0 ma grande satisfaction.\nTant que dur\u00e8rent mes soup\u00e7ons, on peut bien \u00eatre s\u00fbr que chaque jour\nje le sondai pour voir si je ne d\u00e9couvrirais pas quelques-unes des\nnouvelles id\u00e9es que je lui supposais; mais je trouvai dans tout ce\nqu\u2019il disait tant de candeur et d\u2019honn\u00eatet\u00e9 que je ne pus nourrir\nlongtemps ma d\u00e9fiance; et que, mettant de c\u00f4t\u00e9 toute inqui\u00e9tude, je\nm\u2019abandonnai de nouveau enti\u00e8rement \u00e0 lui. Il ne s\u2019\u00e9tait seulement pas\naper\u00e7u de mon trouble; c\u2019est pourquoi je ne saurais le soup\u00e7onner de\nfourberie.\nUn jour que je me promenais sur la m\u00eame colline et que le temps \u00e9tait\nbrumeux en mer, de sorte qu\u2019on ne pouvait apercevoir le continent,\nj\u2019appelai Vendredi et lui dis:\u2014\u00abNe d\u00e9sirerais-tu pas retourner dans\nton pays, chez ta propre nation?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, dit-il, moi \u00eatre beaucoup O\njoyeux d\u2019\u00eatre dans ma propre nation.\u00bb\u2014\u00abQu\u2019y ferais-tu? repris-je:\nvoudrais-tu redevenir barbare, manger de la chair humaine et retomber\ndans l\u2019\u00e9tat sauvage o\u00f9 tu \u00e9tais auparavant?\u00bb\u2014Il prit un air chagrin,\net, secouant la t\u00eate, il r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abNon, non, Vendredi leur conter\nvivre bon, leur conter prier Dieu, leur conter manger pain de bl\u00e9,\nchair de troupeau, lait; non plus manger hommes.\u00bb\u2014\u00abAlors ils te\ntueront.\u00bb\u2014A ce mot, il devint s\u00e9rieux, et r\u00e9pliqua:\u2014\u00ab Non, eux pas\ntuer moi, eux volontiers aimer apprendre.\u00bb\u2014Il entendait par l\u00e0 qu\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient tr\u00e8s port\u00e9s \u00e0 s\u2019instruire. Puis il ajouta qu\u2019ils avaient\nappris beaucoup de choses des hommes barbus qui \u00e9taient venus dans\nle bateau. Je lui demandai alors s\u2019il voudrait s\u2019en retourner; il\nsourit \u00e0 cette question, et me dit qu\u2019il ne pourrait pas nager si\nloin. Je lui promis de lui faire un canot. Il me dit alors qu\u2019il irait\nsi j\u2019allais avec lui:\u2014\u00abMoi partir avec toi! m\u2019\u00e9criai-je; mais ils me\nmangeront si j\u2019y vais.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, non, moi faire eux non manger vous,\nmoi faire eux beaucoup aimer vous.\u00bb\u2014Il entendait par l\u00e0 qu\u2019il leur\nraconterait comment j\u2019avais tu\u00e9 ses ennemis et sauv\u00e9 sa vie, et qu\u2019il\nme gagnerait ainsi leur affection. Alors il me narra de son mieux\ncombien ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bons envers les dix-sept hommes blancs ou\nbarbus, comme il les appelait, qui avaient abord\u00e9 \u00e0 leur rivage dans\nla d\u00e9tresse.\nD\u00e8s ce moment, je l\u2019avoue, je con\u00e7us l\u2019envie de m\u2019aventurer en mer,\npour tenter s\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait possible de joindre ces hommes barbus, qui\ndevaient \u00eatre, selon moi, des Espagnols et des Portugais, ne doutant\npas, si je r\u00e9ussissais, qu\u2019\u00e9tant sur le continent et en nombreuse\ncompagnie, je ne pusse trouver quelque moyen de m\u2019\u00e9chapper de l\u00e0\nplut\u00f4t que d\u2019une \u00eele \u00e9loign\u00e9e de quarante milles de la c\u00f4te, et o\u00f9\nj\u2019\u00e9tais seul et sans secours. Quelques jours apr\u00e8s je sondai de\nnouveau Vendredi, par mani\u00e8re de conversation, et je lui dis que je\nvoulais lui donner un bateau pour retourner chez sa nation. Je le\nmenai par cons\u00e9quent vers ma petite fr\u00e9gate, amarr\u00e9e de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde l\u2019\u00eele; puis, l\u2019ayant vid\u00e9e,\u2014car je la tenais toujours enfonc\u00e9e sous\nl\u2019eau,\u2014je la mis \u00e0 flot, je la lui fis voir, et nous y entr\u00e2mes tous\nles deux.\nJe vis que c\u2019\u00e9tait un compagnon fort adroit \u00e0 la man\u0153uvre: il la\nfaisait courir aussi rapidement et plus habilement que je ne l\u2019eusse\npu faire. Tandis que nous voguions, je lui dis:\u2014\u00abEh bien! maintenant,\nVendredi, irons-nous chez ta nation?\u00bb\u2014A ces mots, il resta tout\nstup\u00e9fait, sans doute parce que cette embarcation lui paraissait\ntrop petite pour aller si loin. Je lui dis alors que j\u2019en avais une\nplus grande. Le lendemain donc je le conduisis au lieu o\u00f9 gisait la\npremi\u00e8re pirogue que j\u2019avais faite, mais que je n\u2019avais pu mettre\n\u00e0 la mer. Il la trouva suffisamment grande; mais, comme je n\u2019en\navais pris aucun soin, qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait couch\u00e9e l\u00e0 depuis vingt-deux ou\nvingt-trois ans, et que le soleil l\u2019avait fendue et s\u00e9ch\u00e9e, elle \u00e9tait\npourrie en quelque sorte. Vendredi m\u2019affirma qu\u2019un bateau semblable\nferait l\u2019affaire, et transporterait\u2014beaucoup assez vivres, boire,\npain:\u2014c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 sa mani\u00e8re de parler.\nEn somme, je fus alors si affermi dans ma r\u00e9solution de gagner avec\nlui le continent, que je lui dis qu\u2019il fallait nous mettre \u00e0 en\nfaire une de cette grandeur-l\u00e0 pour qu\u2019il p\u00fbt s\u2019en retourner chez\nlui. Il ne r\u00e9pliqua pas un mot, mais il devint s\u00e9rieux et triste. Je\nlui demandai ce qu\u2019il avait. Il me r\u00e9pondit ainsi:\u2014\u00abPourquoi vous\ncol\u00e8re avec Vendredi? Quoi moi fait?\u00bb\u2014Je le priai de s\u2019expliquer et\nlui protestai que je n\u2019\u00e9tais point du tout en col\u00e8re.\u2014\u00abPas col\u00e8re!\npas col\u00e8re! reprit-il en r\u00e9p\u00e9tant ces mots plusieurs fois; pourquoi\nenvoyer Vendredi loin chez ma nation?\u00bb\u2014\u00abPourquoi?... Mais ne m\u2019as-tu\npas dit que tu souhaitais y retourner?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, oui, s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il,\nsouhaiter \u00eatre tous deux l\u00e0: Vendredi l\u00e0 et pas ma\u00eetre l\u00e0.\u00bb\u2014En un mot,\nil ne pouvait se faire \u00e0 l\u2019id\u00e9e de partir sans moi.\u2014\u00abMoi aller avec\ntoi, Vendredi! m\u2019\u00e9criai-je; mais que ferais-je l\u00e0?\u00bb\u2014Il me r\u00e9pliqua\ntr\u00e8s vivement l\u00e0-dessus:\u2014\u00abVous faire grande quantit\u00e9 beaucoup bien,\nvous apprendre sauvages hommes \u00eatre hommes bons, hommes sages, hommes\napprivois\u00e9s; vous leur enseigner conna\u00eetre Dieu, prier Dieu et vivre\nnouvelle vie.\u00bb\u2014\u00abH\u00e9las! Vendredi, r\u00e9pondis-je, tu ne sais ce que tu\ndis, je ne suis moi-m\u00eame qu\u2019un ignorant.\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, oui, reprit-il, vous\nenseigna moi bien, vous enseigner eux bien.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, non, Vendredi, te\ndis-je, tu partiras sans moi; laisse-moi vivre ici tout seul comme\nautrefois.\u00bb\u2014A ces paroles il retomba dans le trouble, et, courant \u00e0\nune des hachettes qu\u2019il avait coutume de porter, il s\u2019en saisit \u00e0 la\nh\u00e2te et me la donna.\u2014\u00abQue faut-il que j\u2019en fasse?\u00bb lui dis-je.\u2014\u00abVous\nprendre, vous tuer Vendredi.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMoi te tuer! Et pourquoi?\u00bb\u2014\u00abPourquoi,\nr\u00e9pliqua-t-il prestement, vous envoyer Vendredi loin?... Prendre, tuer\nVendredi, pas renvoyer Vendredi loin.\u00bb\u2014Il pronon\u00e7a ces paroles avec\ntant de componction, que je vis ses yeux se mouiller de larmes. En un\nmot, je d\u00e9couvris clairement en lui une si profonde affection pour moi\net une si ferme r\u00e9solution, que je lui dis alors, et souvent depuis,\nque je ne l\u2019\u00e9loignerais jamais tant qu\u2019il voudrait rester avec moi.\nSomme toute, de m\u00eame que par tous ses discours je d\u00e9couvris en lui\nune affection si solide pour moi, que rien ne pourrait l\u2019en s\u00e9parer,\nde m\u00eame je d\u00e9couvris que tout son d\u00e9sir de retourner dans sa patrie\navait sa source dans sa vive affection pour ses compatriotes, et\ndans son esp\u00e9rance que je les rendrais bons, chose que, vu mon peu\nde science, je n\u2019avais pas le moindre d\u00e9sir, la moindre intention ou\nenvie d\u2019entreprendre. Mais je me sentais toujours fortement entra\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0\nfaire une tentative de d\u00e9livrance, comme pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, fond\u00e9e sur la\nsupposition d\u00e9duite du premier entretien, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire qu\u2019il y avait\nl\u00e0 dix-sept hommes barbus; et c\u2019est pourquoi, sans plus de d\u00e9lai, je\nme mis en campagne avec Vendredi pour chercher un gros arbre propre \u00e0\n\u00eatre abattu et \u00e0 faire une grande pirogue ou canot pour l\u2019ex\u00e9cution de\nmon projet. Il y avait dans l\u2019\u00eele assez d\u2019arbres pour construire une\nflottille, non seulement de pirogues ou de canots, mais m\u00eame de bons\ngros vaisseaux. La principale condition \u00e0 laquelle je tenais, c\u2019\u00e9tait\nqu\u2019il f\u00fbt dans le voisinage de la mer, afin que nous puissions lancer\nnotre embarcation quand elle serait faite, et \u00e9viter la b\u00e9vue que\nj\u2019avais commise la premi\u00e8re fois.\nA la fin Vendredi en choisit un, car il connaissait mieux que moi\nquelle sorte de bois \u00e9tait la plus convenable pour notre dessein; je\nne saurais m\u00eame aujourd\u2019hui comment nommer l\u2019arbre que nous abatt\u00eemes,\nje sais seulement qu\u2019il ressemblait beaucoup \u00e0 celui qu\u2019on appelle\nFustok, et qu\u2019il \u00e9tait d\u2019un genre interm\u00e9diaire entre celui-l\u00e0 et\nle bois de Nicaragua, duquel il tenait beaucoup pour la couleur et\nl\u2019odeur. Vendredi se proposait de br\u00fbler l\u2019int\u00e9rieur de cet arbre\npour en faire un bateau; mais je lui d\u00e9montrai qu\u2019il valait mieux le\ncreuser avec des outils, ce qu\u2019il fit tr\u00e8s adroitement, apr\u00e8s que je\nlui en eus enseign\u00e9 la mani\u00e8re. Au bout d\u2019un mois de rude travail,\nnous achev\u00e2mes notre pirogue, qui se trouva fort \u00e9l\u00e9gante, surtout\nlorsque avec nos haches, que je lui avais appris \u00e0 manier, nous\ne\u00fbmes fa\u00e7onn\u00e9 et aviv\u00e9 son ext\u00e9rieur en forme d\u2019esquif. Apr\u00e8s ceci,\ntoutefois, elle nous co\u00fbta encore pr\u00e8s d\u2019une quinzaine de jours pour\nl\u2019amener jusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019eau, en quelque sorte pouce \u00e0 pouce, au moyen de\ngrands rouleaux de bois.\u2014Elle aurait pu porter vingt hommes tr\u00e8s\nais\u00e9ment.\n[Illustration: ... pour l\u2019amener jusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019eau, en quelque sorte pouce\n\u00e0 pouce.]\nLorsqu\u2019elle fut mise \u00e0 flot, je fus \u00e9merveill\u00e9 de voir, malgr\u00e9 sa\ngrandeur, avec quelle dext\u00e9rit\u00e9 et quelle rapidit\u00e9 mon serviteur\nVendredi savait la manier, la faire virer et avancer \u00e0 la pagaie. Je\nlui demandai alors si elle pouvait aller, et si nous pouvions nous y\naventurer.\u2014\u00abOui, r\u00e9pondit-il, elle aventurer dedans tr\u00e8s bien, quand\nm\u00eame grand souffler vent.\u00bb\u2014Cependant j\u2019avais encore un projet qu\u2019il ne\nconnaissait point, c\u2019\u00e9tait de faire un m\u00e2t et une voile, et de garnir\nma pirogue d\u2019une ancre et d\u2019un c\u00e2ble. Pour le m\u00e2t, ce fut chose assez\nais\u00e9e. Je choisis un jeune c\u00e8dre fort droit que je trouvai pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0,\ncar il y en avait une grande quantit\u00e9 dans l\u2019\u00eele; je chargeai Vendredi\nde l\u2019abattre et lui montrai comment s\u2019y prendre pour le fa\u00e7onner\net l\u2019ajuster. Quant \u00e0 la voile, ce fut mon affaire particuli\u00e8re.\nJe savais que je poss\u00e9dais pas mal de vieilles voiles ou plut\u00f4t de\nmorceaux de vieilles voiles; mais, comme il y avait vingt-six ans\nque je les avais mises de c\u00f4t\u00e9, et que j\u2019avais pris peu de soin pour\nleur conservation, n\u2019imaginant pas que je pusse jamais avoir occasion\nde les employer \u00e0 un semblable usage, je ne doutai pas qu\u2019elles ne\nfussent toutes pourries, et au fait la plupart l\u2019\u00e9taient. Pourtant\nj\u2019en trouvai deux morceaux qui me parurent assez bons; je me mis \u00e0\nles travailler; et, apr\u00e8s beaucoup de peines, cousant gauchement et\nlentement, comme on peut le croire, car je n\u2019avais point d\u2019aiguilles,\nje parvins enfin \u00e0 faire une vilaine chose triangulaire ressemblant\n\u00e0 ce qu\u2019on appelle en Angleterre une voile en _\u00e9paule de mouton_,\nqui se dressait avec un gui au bas et un petit pic au sommet. Les\nchaloupes de nos navires cinglent d\u2019ordinaire avec une voile pareille,\net c\u2019\u00e9tait celle dont je connaissais le mieux la man\u0153uvre, parce que\nla barque dans laquelle je m\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9chapp\u00e9 de Barbarie en avait une,\ncomme je l\u2019ai relat\u00e9 dans la premi\u00e8re partie de mon histoire.\nJe fus pr\u00e8s de deux mois \u00e0 terminer ce dernier ouvrage, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\n\u00e0 gr\u00e9er et ajuster mon m\u00e2t et mes voiles. Pour compl\u00e9ter ce gr\u00e9ement,\nj\u2019\u00e9tablis un petit \u00e9tai sur lequel j\u2019adaptai une trinquette pour\nm\u2019aider \u00e0 pincer le vent, et, qui plus est, je fixai \u00e0 la poupe un\ngouvernail. Quoique je fusse un d\u00e9testable constructeur, cependant\ncomme je sentais l\u2019utilit\u00e9 et m\u00eame la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d\u2019une telle chose,\nbravant la peine, j\u2019y travaillai avec tant d\u2019application qu\u2019enfin j\u2019en\nvins \u00e0 bout; mais, en consid\u00e9rant la quantit\u00e9 des tristes inventions\nauxquelles j\u2019eus recours et qui \u00e9chou\u00e8rent, je suis port\u00e9 \u00e0 croire que\nce gouvernail me co\u00fbta autant de labeur que le bateau tout entier.\nApr\u00e8s que tout ceci fut achev\u00e9, j\u2019eus \u00e0 enseigner \u00e0 mon serviteur\nVendredi tout ce qui avait rapport \u00e0 la navigation de mon esquif;\ncar, bien qu\u2019il s\u00fbt parfaitement pagayer, il n\u2019entendait rien \u00e0 la\nman\u0153uvre de la voile et du gouvernail, et il fut on ne peut plus\n\u00e9merveill\u00e9 quand il me vit diriger et faire virer ma pirogue au moyen\nde la barre, et quand il vit ma voile tr\u00e9bucher et s\u2019\u00e9venter, tant\u00f4t\nd\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9, tant\u00f4t de l\u2019autre, suivant que la direction de notre\ncourse changeait; alors, dis-je, il demeura l\u00e0 comme un \u00e9tonn\u00e9, comme\nun \u00e9bahi. N\u00e9anmoins en peu de temps je lui rendis toutes ces choses\nfamili\u00e8res, et il devint un navigateur consomm\u00e9, sauf l\u2019usage de la\nboussole, que je ne pus lui faire comprendre que fort peu. Mais,\ncomme dans ces climats il est rare d\u2019avoir un temps couvert et que\npresque jamais il n\u2019y a de brumes, la boussole n\u2019y est pas de grande\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9. Les \u00e9toiles sont toujours visibles pendant la nuit, et la\nterre pendant le jour, except\u00e9 dans les saisons pluvieuses; mais alors\npersonne ne se soucie d\u2019aller au loin ni sur terre, ni sur mer.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors entr\u00e9 dans la vingt-septi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de ma captivit\u00e9 dans\ncette \u00eele, quoique les trois derni\u00e8res ann\u00e9es o\u00f9 j\u2019avais eu avec moi\nmon serviteur Vendredi ne puissent gu\u00e8re faire partie de ce compte, ma\nvie d\u2019alors \u00e9tant totalement diff\u00e9rente de ce qu\u2019elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 durant\ntout le reste de mon s\u00e9jour. Je c\u00e9l\u00e9brai l\u2019anniversaire de mon arriv\u00e9e\nen ce lieu toujours avec la m\u00eame reconnaissance envers Dieu pour ses\nmis\u00e9ricordes; si jadis j\u2019avais eu sujet d\u2019\u00eatre reconnaissant, j\u2019avais\nencore beaucoup plus sujet de l\u2019\u00eatre, la Providence m\u2019ayant donn\u00e9\ntant de nouveaux t\u00e9moignages de sollicitude, et envoy\u00e9 l\u2019espoir d\u2019une\nprompte et s\u00fbre d\u00e9livrance, car j\u2019avais dans l\u2019\u00e2me l\u2019in\u00e9branlable\npersuasion que ma d\u00e9livrance \u00e9tait proche et que je ne saurais\n\u00eatre un an de plus dans l\u2019\u00eele. Cependant je ne n\u00e9gligeai pas mes\ncultures; comme \u00e0 l\u2019ordinaire je b\u00eachai, je semai, je fis des enclos;\nje recueillis et s\u00e9chai mes raisins, et m\u2019occupai de toutes choses\nn\u00e9cessaires, de m\u00eame qu\u2019auparavant.\nLa saison des pluies, qui m\u2019obligeait \u00e0 garder la maison plus que de\ncoutume, \u00e9tant alors revenue, j\u2019avais donc mis notre vaisseau aussi\nen s\u00fbret\u00e9 que possible, en l\u2019amenant dans la crique o\u00f9, comme je l\u2019ai\ndit au commencement, j\u2019abordai avec mes radeaux. L\u2019ayant hal\u00e9 sur\nle rivage pendant la mar\u00e9e haute, je fis creuser \u00e0 mon serviteur\nVendredi un petit bassin tout juste assez grand pour qu\u2019il p\u00fbt s\u2019y\ntenir \u00e0 flot; puis, \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e basse, nous f\u00eemes une forte \u00e9cluse \u00e0\nl\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 pour emp\u00eacher l\u2019eau d\u2019y rentrer: ainsi notre vaisseau\ndemeura \u00e0 sec et \u00e0 l\u2019abri du retour de la mar\u00e9e. Pour le garantir\nde la pluie, nous le couvr\u00eemes d\u2019une couche de branches d\u2019arbres si\n\u00e9paisse, qu\u2019il \u00e9tait aussi bien qu\u2019une maison sous son toit de chaume.\nNous attend\u00eemes ainsi les mois de novembre et de d\u00e9cembre, que j\u2019avais\nd\u00e9sign\u00e9s pour l\u2019ex\u00e9cution de mon entreprise.\nQuand la saison favorable s\u2019approcha, comme la pens\u00e9e de mon\ndessein renaissait avec le beau temps, je m\u2019occupai journellement \u00e0\npr\u00e9parer tout pour le voyage. La premi\u00e8re chose que je fis, ce fut\nd\u2019amasser une certaine quantit\u00e9 de provisions qui devaient nous \u00eatre\nn\u00e9cessaires. Je me proposais, dans une semaine ou deux, d\u2019ouvrir le\nbassin et de lancer notre bateau, quand un matin que j\u2019\u00e9tais occup\u00e9\n\u00e0 quelqu\u2019un de ces appr\u00eats, j\u2019appelai Vendredi et lui dis d\u2019aller au\nbord de la mer pour voir s\u2019il ne trouverait pas quelque ch\u00e9lone ou\ntortue, chose que nous faisions habituellement une fois par semaine;\nnous \u00e9tions aussi friands des \u0153ufs que de la chair de cet animal.\nVendredi n\u2019\u00e9tait parti que depuis peu de temps quand je le vis revenir\nen courant et franchir ma fortification ext\u00e9rieure comme si ses pieds\nne touchaient pas la terre, et, avant que j\u2019eusse eu le temps de lui\nparler, il me cria:\u2014\u00abO ma\u00eetre! \u00f4 ma\u00eetre! \u00f4 chagrin! \u00f4 mauvais!\u00bb\u2014\u00abQu\u2019y\na-t-il, Vendredi?\u00bb lui dis-je.\u2014\u00abOh! l\u00e0-bas un, deux, trois canots! un,\ndeux, trois!\u00bb\u2014Je conclus, d\u2019apr\u00e8s sa mani\u00e8re de s\u2019exprimer, qu\u2019il y\nen avait six; mais, apr\u00e8s que je m\u2019en fus enquis, je n\u2019en trouvai que\ntrois.\u2014Je le rassurai ainsi autant que je pus; n\u00e9anmoins je m\u2019aper\u00e7us\nque le pauvre gar\u00e7on \u00e9tait tout \u00e0 fait hors de lui-m\u00eame: il s\u2019\u00e9tait\nfourr\u00e9 en t\u00eate que les sauvages \u00e9taient venus tout expr\u00e8s pour le\nchercher, le mettre en pi\u00e8ces et le d\u00e9vorer. Il tremblait si fort que\nje ne savais que faire. Je le r\u00e9confortai de mon mieux, et lui dis que\nj\u2019\u00e9tais dans un aussi grand danger et qu\u2019ils me mangeraient tout comme\nlui.\u2014\u00abMais il faut, ajoutai-je, nous r\u00e9soudre \u00e0 les combattre; peux-tu\ncombattre, Vendredi?\u00bb\u2014\u00abMoi tirer, dit-il, mais l\u00e0 venir beaucoup\ngrand nombre.\u00bb\u2014\u00abQu\u2019importe! r\u00e9pondis-je, nos fusils \u00e9pouvanteront\nceux qu\u2019ils ne tueront pas.\u00bb\u2014Je lui demandai si, me d\u00e9terminant \u00e0 le\nd\u00e9fendre, il me d\u00e9fendrait aussi et voudrait se tenir aupr\u00e8s de moi et\nfaire tout ce que je lui enjoindrais. Il r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abMoi mourir quand\nvous commander mourir, ma\u00eetre.\u00bb\u2014L\u00e0-dessus j\u2019allai chercher une bonne\ngoutte de _rhum_ et la lui donnai, car j\u2019avais si bien m\u00e9nag\u00e9 mon\n_rhum_ que j\u2019en avais encore pas mal en r\u00e9serve. Quand il eut bu, je\nlui fis prendre les deux fusils de chasse que nous portions toujours,\net je les chargeai de chevrotines aussi grosses que des petites balles\nde pistolet; je pris ensuite quatre mousquets, je les chargeai chacun\nde deux lingots et de cinq balles, puis chacun de mes deux pistolets\nd\u2019une paire de balles seulement. Je pendis, comme \u00e0 l\u2019ordinaire, mon\ngrand sabre nu \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9, et je donnai \u00e0 Vendredi sa hachette.\nQuand je me fus ainsi pr\u00e9par\u00e9, je pris ma lunette d\u2019approche, et\nje gravis le versant de la montagne, pour voir ce que je pourrais\nd\u00e9couvrir; j\u2019aper\u00e7us aussit\u00f4t par ma longue-vue qu\u2019il y avait l\u00e0 vingt\net un sauvages, trois prisonniers et trois pirogues, et que leur\nunique affaire semblait \u00eatre de faire un banquet triomphal de ces\ntrois corps humains, f\u00eate barbare, il est vrai, mais, comme je l\u2019ai\nobserv\u00e9, qui n\u2019avait rien parmi eux que d\u2019ordinaire.\nJe remarquai aussi qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s non dans le m\u00eame endroit\nd\u2019o\u00f9 Vendredi s\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e9chapp\u00e9, mais plus pr\u00e8s de ma crique, o\u00f9 le\nrivage \u00e9tait bas et o\u00f9 un bois \u00e9pais s\u2019\u00e9tendait presque jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la\nmer. Cette observation et l\u2019horreur que m\u2019inspirait l\u2019\u0153uvre atroce que\nces mis\u00e9rables venaient consommer me remplirent de tant d\u2019indignation\nque je retournai vers Vendredi, et lui dis que j\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu \u00e0\nfondre sur eux et \u00e0 les tuer tous. Puis je lui demandai s\u2019il voulait\ncombattre \u00e0 mes c\u00f4t\u00e9s. Sa frayeur \u00e9tant dissip\u00e9e et ses esprits \u00e9tant\nun peu anim\u00e9s par le _rhum_ que je lui avais donn\u00e9, il me parut plein\nde courage, et r\u00e9p\u00e9ta comme auparavant qu\u2019il mourrait quand je lui\nordonnerais de mourir.\nDans cet acc\u00e8s de fureur, je pris et r\u00e9partis entre nous les armes\nque je venais de charger. Je donnai \u00e0 Vendredi un pistolet pour\nmettre \u00e0 sa ceinture et trois mousquets pour porter sur l\u2019\u00e9paule, je\npris moi-m\u00eame un pistolet et les trois autres mousquets, et dans cet\n\u00e9quipage nous nous m\u00eemes en marche. J\u2019avais en outre garni ma poche\nd\u2019une petite bouteille de _rhum_, et charg\u00e9 Vendredi d\u2019un grand sac\nde poudre et de balles. Quant \u00e0 la consigne, je lui enjoignis de se\ntenir sur mes pas, de ne point bouger, de ne point tirer, de ne faire\naucune chose que je ne lui eusse command\u00e9e, et en m\u00eame temps de ne pas\nsouffler mot. Je fis alors \u00e0 ma droite un circuit de pr\u00e8s d\u2019un mille,\npour \u00e9viter la crique et gagner le bois, afin de pouvoir arriver \u00e0\nport\u00e9e de fusil des sauvages avant qu\u2019ils me d\u00e9couvrissent, ce que,\npar ma longue-vue, j\u2019avais reconnu chose facile \u00e0 faire.\n[Illustration: Dans cet \u00e9quipage nous nous m\u00eemes en marche.]\nPendant cette marche mes premi\u00e8res id\u00e9es se r\u00e9veill\u00e8rent et\ncommenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 \u00e9branler ma r\u00e9solution. Je ne veux pas dire que j\u2019eusse\naucune peur de leur nombre; comme ils n\u2019\u00e9taient que des mis\u00e9rables\nnus et sans armes, il est certain que je leur \u00e9tais sup\u00e9rieur, et\nquand bien m\u00eame j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 seul. Mais quel motif, me disais-je,\nquelle circonstance, quelle n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 m\u2019oblige \u00e0 tremper mes mains\ndans le sang, \u00e0 attaquer des hommes qui ne m\u2019ont jamais fait aucun\ntort et qui n\u2019ont nulle intention de m\u2019en faire, des hommes innocents\n\u00e0 mon \u00e9gard? Leur coutume barbare est leur propre malheur; c\u2019est la\npreuve que Dieu les a abandonn\u00e9s aussi bien que les autres nations\nde cette partie du monde \u00e0 leur stupidit\u00e9, \u00e0 leur inhumanit\u00e9, mais\nnon pas qu\u2019il m\u2019appelle \u00e0 \u00eatre le juge de leurs actions, encore moins\nl\u2019ex\u00e9cuteur de sa justice! Quand il le trouvera bon, il prendra leur\ncause dans ses mains, et par un ch\u00e2timent national il les punira pour\nleur crime national; mais cela n\u2019est point mon affaire.\nVendredi, il est vrai, peut justifier de cette action: il est leur\nennemi, il est en \u00e9tat de guerre avec ces m\u00eames hommes, c\u2019est loyal\n\u00e0 lui de les attaquer; mais je n\u2019en puis dire autant de moi.\u2014Ces\npens\u00e9es firent une impression si forte sur mon esprit, que je r\u00e9solus\nde me placer seulement pr\u00e8s d\u2019eux pour observer leur f\u00eate barbare,\nd\u2019agir alors suivant que le ciel m\u2019inspirerait, mais de ne point\nm\u2019entremettre, \u00e0 moins que quelque chose ne se pr\u00e9sent\u00e2t qui f\u00fbt pour\nmoi une injonction formelle.\nPlein de cette r\u00e9solution, j\u2019entrai dans le bois, et avec toute la\npr\u00e9caution et le silence possibles,\u2014ayant Vendredi sur mes talons,\u2014je\nmarchai jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019eusse atteint la lisi\u00e8re du c\u00f4t\u00e9 le plus\nproche des sauvages. Une pointe de bois restait seulement entre eux\net moi. J\u2019appelai doucement Vendredi, et, lui montrant un grand arbre\nqui \u00e9tait juste \u00e0 l\u2019angle du bois, je lui commandai d\u2019y aller et de\nm\u2019apporter r\u00e9ponse si de l\u00e0 il pouvait voir parfaitement ce qu\u2019ils\nfaisaient. Il ob\u00e9it et revint imm\u00e9diatement me dire que de ce lieu on\nles voyait tr\u00e8s bien; qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient tous autour d\u2019un feu, mangeant\nla chair d\u2019un de leurs prisonniers, et qu\u2019\u00e0 peu de distance de l\u00e0 il\ny en avait un autre gisant, garrott\u00e9 sur le sable, qu\u2019ils allaient\ntuer bient\u00f4t, affirmait-il, ce qui embrasa mon \u00e2me de col\u00e8re. Il\najouta que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas un prisonnier de leur nation, mais un des\nhommes barbus dont il m\u2019avait parl\u00e9 et qui \u00e9taient venus dans leur\npays sur un bateau. Au seul mot d\u2019un homme blanc et barbu, je fus\nrempli d\u2019horreur; j\u2019allai \u00e0 l\u2019arbre, et je distinguai parfaitement\navec ma longue-vue un homme blanc couch\u00e9 sur la gr\u00e8ve de la mer, pieds\net mains li\u00e9s avec des gla\u00efeuls ou quelque chose de semblable \u00e0 des\njoncs; je distinguai aussi qu\u2019il \u00e9tait Europ\u00e9en et qu\u2019il avait des\nv\u00eatements.\nIl y avait un autre arbre et au del\u00e0 un petit hallier plus pr\u00e8s d\u2019eux\nque la place o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais d\u2019environ cinquante verges. Je vis qu\u2019en\nfaisant un petit d\u00e9tour je pourrais y parvenir sans \u00eatre d\u00e9couvert,\net qu\u2019alors je n\u2019en serais plus qu\u2019\u00e0 demi-port\u00e9e de fusil. Je retins\ndonc ma col\u00e8re, quoique vraiment je fusse outr\u00e9 au plus haut degr\u00e9,\net, rebroussant d\u2019environ trente pas, je marchai derri\u00e8re quelques\nbuissons qui couvraient tout le chemin, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je fusse\narriv\u00e9 vers l\u2019autre arbre. L\u00e0 je montai sur un petit tertre d\u2019o\u00f9 ma\nvue plongeait librement sur les sauvages \u00e0 distance de quatre-vingts\nverges environ.\nIl n\u2019y avait pas alors un moment \u00e0 perdre; car dix-neuf de ces\natroces mis\u00e9rables \u00e9taient assis \u00e0 terre tous p\u00eale-m\u00eale, et venaient\njustement d\u2019envoyer deux d\u2019entre eux pour \u00e9gorger le pauvre chr\u00e9tien\net peut-\u00eatre l\u2019apporter membre \u00e0 membre \u00e0 leur feu: d\u00e9j\u00e0 m\u00eame\nils \u00e9taient baiss\u00e9s pour lui d\u00e9lier les pieds. Je me tournai vers\nVendredi:\u2014\u00abMaintenant, lui dis-je, fais ce que je te commanderai.\u00bb\nIl me le promit.\u2014\u00abAlors, Vendredi, repris-je, fais exactement ce\nque tu me verras faire sans y manquer en rien.\u00bb\u2014Je posai \u00e0 terre\nun des mousquets et mon fusil de chasse, et Vendredi m\u2019imita; puis\navec mon autre mousquet je couchai en joue les sauvages, en lui\nordonnant de faire de m\u00eame.\u2014\u00abEs-tu pr\u00eat?\u00bb lui dis-je alors.\u2014\u00abOui,\u00bb\nr\u00e9pondit-il.\u2014\u00abAllons, feu sur tout!\u00bb\u2014Et au m\u00eame instant je tirai aussi.\nVendredi avait tellement mieux vis\u00e9 que moi, qu\u2019il en tua deux et en\nblessa trois, tandis que j\u2019en tuai un et en blessai deux. Ce fut,\nsoyez-en s\u00fbr, une terrible consternation: tous ceux qui n\u2019\u00e9taient\npas bless\u00e9s se dress\u00e8rent subitement sur leurs pieds; mais ils ne\nsavaient de quel c\u00f4t\u00e9 fuir, quel chemin prendre, car ils ignoraient\nd\u2019o\u00f9 leur venait la mort. Vendredi avait toujours les yeux attach\u00e9s\nsur moi, afin, comme je le lui avais enjoint, de pouvoir suivre tous\nmes mouvements. Aussit\u00f4t apr\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge je jetai mon\narme et pris le fusil de chasse, et Vendredi fit de m\u00eame. J\u2019armai et\ncouchai en joue, il arma et ajusta aussi.\u2014\u00abEs-tu pr\u00eat, Vendredi?\u00bb lui\ndis-je.\u2014\u00abOui,\u00bb r\u00e9pondit-il.\u2014\u00abFeu donc, au nom de Dieu!\u00bb Et au m\u00eame\ninstant nous tir\u00e2mes tous deux sur ces mis\u00e9rables \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s. Comme\nnos armes n\u2019\u00e9taient charg\u00e9es que de ce que j\u2019ai appel\u00e9 chevrotines ou\npetites balles de pistolet, il n\u2019en tomba que deux; mais il y en eut\ntant de frapp\u00e9s, que nous les v\u00eemes courir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 tout couverts de\nsang, criant et hurlant comme des insens\u00e9s et cruellement bless\u00e9s pour\nla plupart. Bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s trois autres encore tomb\u00e8rent, mais non pas\ntout \u00e0 fait morts.\n[Illustration: Nous tir\u00e2mes tous deux sur ces mis\u00e9rables \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s.]\n\u2014\u00abMaintenant, Vendredi, m\u2019\u00e9criai-je en posant \u00e0 terre les armes vides\net en prenant le mousquet qui \u00e9tait encore charg\u00e9, suis-moi!\u00bb\u2014Ce qu\u2019il\nfit avec beaucoup de courage. L\u00e0-dessus je me pr\u00e9cipitai hors du bois\navec Vendredi sur mes talons, et je me d\u00e9couvris moi-m\u00eame. Sit\u00f4t\nqu\u2019ils m\u2019eurent aper\u00e7u, je poussai un cri effroyable, j\u2019enjoignis \u00e0\nVendredi d\u2019en faire autant; et, courant aussi vite que je pouvais, ce\nqui n\u2019\u00e9tait gu\u00e8re, charg\u00e9 d\u2019armes comme je l\u2019\u00e9tais, j\u2019allai droit \u00e0 la\npauvre victime qui gisait, comme je l\u2019ai dit, sur la gr\u00e8ve, entre la\nplace du festin et la mer. Les deux bouchers qui allaient se mettre\nen besogne sur lui l\u2019avaient abandonn\u00e9 de surprise \u00e0 notre premier\nfeu, et s\u2019\u00e9taient enfuis, saisis d\u2019\u00e9pouvante, vers le rivage, o\u00f9 ils\ns\u2019\u00e9taient jet\u00e9s dans un canot, ainsi que trois de leurs compagnons.\nJe me tournai vers Vendredi, et je lui ordonnai d\u2019avancer et de tirer\ndessus. Il me comprit aussit\u00f4t, et, courant environ la longueur de\nquarante verges pour s\u2019approcher d\u2019eux, il fit feu. Je crus d\u2019abord\nqu\u2019il les avait tous tu\u00e9s, car ils tomb\u00e8rent en tas dans le canot;\nmais bient\u00f4t j\u2019en vis deux se relever. Toutefois il en avait exp\u00e9di\u00e9\ndeux et bless\u00e9 un troisi\u00e8me, qui resta comme mort au fond du bateau.\n[Illustration: J\u2019allai droit \u00e0 la pauvre victime qui gisait sur la\ngr\u00e8ve.]\nTandis que mon serviteur Vendredi tiraillait, je pris mon couteau\net je coupai les gla\u00efeuls qui liaient le pauvre prisonnier. Ayant\nd\u00e9barrass\u00e9 ses pieds et ses mains, je le relevai et lui demandai en\nportugais qui il \u00e9tait. Il r\u00e9pondit en latin: Christianus. Mais il\n\u00e9tait si faible et si languissant qu\u2019il pouvait \u00e0 peine se tenir\nou parler. Je tirai ma bouteille de ma poche, et la lui pr\u00e9sentai\nen lui faisant signe de boire, ce qu\u2019il fit; puis je lui donnai un\nmorceau de pain qu\u2019il mangea. Alors je lui demandai de quel pays il\n\u00e9tait: il me r\u00e9pondit: Espa\u00f1ol. Et, se remettant un peu, il me fit\nconna\u00eetre par tous les gestes possibles combien il m\u2019\u00e9tait redevable\npour sa d\u00e9livrance.\u2014\u00abSe\u00f1or, lui dis-je avec tout l\u2019espagnol que je\npus rassembler, nous parlerons plus tard; maintenant il nous faut\ncombattre. S\u2019il vous reste quelque force, prenez ce pistolet et ce\nsabre et vengez-vous.\u00bb\u2014Il les prit avec gratitude, et n\u2019eut pas plut\u00f4t\nces armes dans les mains, que, comme si elles lui eussent communiqu\u00e9\nune nouvelle \u00e9nergie, il se rua sur ses meurtriers avec furie, et\nen tailla deux en pi\u00e8ces en un instant; mais il est vrai que tout\nceci \u00e9tait si \u00e9trange pour eux, que les pauvres mis\u00e9rables, effray\u00e9s\ndu bruit de nos mousquets, tombaient de pur \u00e9tonnement et de peur,\net \u00e9taient aussi incapables de chercher \u00e0 s\u2019enfuir que leur chair\nde r\u00e9sister \u00e0 nos balles. Et c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 juste le cas des cinq sur\nlesquels Vendredi avait tir\u00e9 dans la pirogue; car si trois tomb\u00e8rent\ndes blessures qu\u2019ils avaient re\u00e7ues, deux tomb\u00e8rent seulement d\u2019effroi.\nJe tenais toujours mon fusil \u00e0 la main sans tirer, voulant garder mon\ncoup tout pr\u00eat, parce que j\u2019avais donn\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019Espagnol mon pistolet et\nmon sabre. J\u2019appelai Vendredi et lui ordonnai de courir \u00e0 l\u2019arbre d\u2019o\u00f9\nnous avions fait feu d\u2019abord, pour rapporter les armes d\u00e9charg\u00e9es\nque nous avions laiss\u00e9es l\u00e0; ce qu\u2019il fit avec une grande c\u00e9l\u00e9rit\u00e9.\nAlors je lui donnai mon mousquet, je m\u2019assis pour recharger les autres\narmes, et recommandai \u00e0 mes hommes de revenir vers moi quand ils en\nauraient besoin.\nTandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 cette besogne, un rude combat s\u2019engagea entre\nl\u2019Espagnol et un des sauvages, qui lui portait des coups avec un de\nleurs grands sabres de bois, cette m\u00eame arme qui devait servir \u00e0 lui\n\u00f4ter la vie si je ne l\u2019avais emp\u00each\u00e9. L\u2019Espagnol \u00e9tait aussi hardi et\naussi brave qu\u2019on puisse l\u2019imaginer: quoique faible, il combattait\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 cet Indien depuis longtemps et lui avait fait deux larges\nblessures \u00e0 la t\u00eate; mais le sauvage, qui \u00e9tait un vaillant et un\nrobuste compagnon, l\u2019ayant \u00e9treint dans ses bras, l\u2019avait renvers\u00e9\net s\u2019effor\u00e7ait de lui arracher mon sabre des mains. Alors l\u2019Espagnol\nle lui abandonna sagement, et, prenant son pistolet \u00e0 sa ceinture, lui\ntira au travers du corps et l\u2019\u00e9tendit mort sur la place avant que\nmoi, qui accourais \u00e0 son secours, j\u2019eusse eu le temps de le joindre.\n[Illustration: Il s\u2019effor\u00e7ait de lui arracher mon sabre des mains.]\nVendredi, laiss\u00e9 \u00e0 sa libert\u00e9, poursuivait les mis\u00e9rables fuyards\nsans autre arme au poing que sa hachette, avec laquelle il d\u00e9p\u00eacha\npremi\u00e8rement ces trois qui, bless\u00e9s d\u2019abord, tomb\u00e8rent ensuite, comme\nje l\u2019ai dit plus haut, puis apr\u00e8s tous ceux qu\u2019il put attraper.\nL\u2019Espagnol m\u2019ayant demand\u00e9 un mousquet, je lui donnai un des fusils\nde chasse, et il se mit \u00e0 la poursuite de deux sauvages, qu\u2019il blessa\ntous deux; mais, comme il ne pouvait courir, ils se r\u00e9fugi\u00e8rent dans\nle bois, o\u00f9 Vendredi les pourchassa, et en tua un: l\u2019autre, trop agile\npour lui, malgr\u00e9 ses blessures, plongea dans la mer et nagea de toutes\nses forces vers ses camarades qui s\u2019\u00e9taient sauv\u00e9s dans le canot. Ces\ntrois rembarqu\u00e9s, avec un autre, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 bless\u00e9 sans que nous\npussions savoir s\u2019il \u00e9tait mort ou vif, furent des vingt et un les\nseuls qui s\u2019\u00e9chapp\u00e8rent de nos mains.\n   3 tu\u00e9s \u00e0 notre premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge partie de l\u2019arbre.\n   2 tu\u00e9s \u00e0 la d\u00e9charge suivante.\n   2 tu\u00e9s par Vendredi dans le bateau.\n   2 tu\u00e9s par le m\u00eame, de ceux qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bless\u00e9s d\u2019abord.\n   1 tu\u00e9 par le m\u00eame dans les bois.\n   3 tu\u00e9s par l\u2019Espagnol.\n   4 tu\u00e9s, qui tomb\u00e8rent \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 de leurs blessure ou \u00e0 qui\n       Vendredi donna la chasse.\n   4 sauv\u00e9s dans le canot, parmi lesquels un bless\u00e9, sinon mort.\n  21 en tout.\nCeux qui \u00e9taient dans le canot man\u0153uvr\u00e8rent rudement pour se mettre\nhors de la port\u00e9e du fusil; et, quoique Vendredi leur tir\u00e2t deux\nou trois coups encore, je ne vis pas qu\u2019il en e\u00fbt bless\u00e9 aucun. Il\nd\u00e9sirait vivement que je prisse une de leurs pirogues et que je les\npoursuivisse; et, au fait, moi-m\u00eame j\u2019\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s inquiet de leur\nfuite; je redoutais qu\u2019ils ne portassent de mes nouvelles dans leur\npays, et ne revinssent peut-\u00eatre avec deux ou trois cents pirogues\npour nous accabler par leur nombre. Je consentis donc \u00e0 leur donner\nla chasse en mer, et, courant \u00e0 un de leurs canots, je m\u2019y jetai et\ncommandai \u00e0 Vendredi de me suivre; mais, en y entrant, quelle fut ma\nsurprise de trouver un pauvre sauvage, \u00e9tendu pieds et poings li\u00e9s,\ndestin\u00e9 \u00e0 la mort comme l\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 l\u2019Espagnol, et presque expirant\nde peur, ne sachant pas ce qui se passait, car il n\u2019avait pu regarder\npar-dessus le bord du bateau. Il \u00e9tait li\u00e9 si fortement de la t\u00eate aux\npieds et avait \u00e9t\u00e9 garrott\u00e9 si longtemps qu\u2019il ne lui restait plus\nqu\u2019un souffle de vie.\nJe coupai aussit\u00f4t les gla\u00efeuls ou les joncs tortill\u00e9s qui\nl\u2019attachaient, et je voulus l\u2019aider \u00e0 se lever; mais il ne pouvait ni\nse soutenir ni parler; seulement il g\u00e9missait tr\u00e8s piteusement,\ncroyant sans doute qu\u2019on ne l\u2019avait d\u00e9li\u00e9 que pour le faire mourir.\nLorsque Vendredi se fut approch\u00e9, je le priai de lui parler et de\nl\u2019assurer de sa d\u00e9livrance; puis, tirant ma bouteille, je fis donner\nune goutte de _rum_ \u00e0 ce pauvre malheureux; ce qui, avec la nouvelle\nde son salut, le ranima, et il s\u2019assit dans le bateau. Mais quand\nVendredi vint \u00e0 l\u2019entendre parler et \u00e0 le regarder en face, ce fut un\nspectacle \u00e0 attendrir jusqu\u2019aux larmes, de le voir baiser, embrasser\net \u00e9treindre ce sauvage; de le voir pleurer, rire, crier, sauter\n\u00e0 l\u2019entour, danser, chanter, puis pleurer encore, se tordre les\nmains, se frapper la t\u00eate et la face, puis chanter et sauter encore\n\u00e0 l\u2019entour comme un insens\u00e9. Il se passa un long temps avant que je\npusse lui arracher une parole et lui faire dire ce dont il s\u2019agissait;\nmais quand il fut un peu revenu \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame, il s\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abC\u2019est mon\np\u00e8re!\u00bb\nIl m\u2019est difficile d\u2019exprimer combien je fus \u00e9mu des transports de\njoie et d\u2019amour filial qui agit\u00e8rent ce pauvre sauvage \u00e0 la vue de son\np\u00e8re d\u00e9livr\u00e9 de la mort. Je ne puis vraiment d\u00e9crire la moiti\u00e9 de ses\nextravagances de tendresse. Il se jeta dans la pirogue et en ressortit\nje ne sais combien de fois. Quand il y entrait, il s\u2019asseyait aupr\u00e8s\nde son p\u00e8re, il se d\u00e9couvrait la poitrine, et, pour le ranimer, il lui\ntenait la t\u00eate appuy\u00e9e contre son sein des demi-heures enti\u00e8res; puis\nil prenait ses bras, ses jambes, engourdis et roidis par les liens,\nles r\u00e9chauffait et les frottait avec ses mains, et moi, ayant vu cela,\nje lui donnai du _rum_ de ma bouteille pour faire des frictions, qui\neurent un excellent effet.\nCet \u00e9v\u00e9nement nous emp\u00eacha de poursuivre le canot des sauvages, qui\n\u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s hors de vue; mais ce fut heureux pour nous, car\nau bout de deux heures, avant qu\u2019ils eussent pu faire le quart de leur\nchemin, il s\u2019\u00e9leva un vent imp\u00e9tueux, qui continua de souffler si\nviolemment toute la nuit et de souffler nord-ouest, ce qui leur \u00e9tait\ncontraire, que je ne pus supposer que leur embarcation e\u00fbt r\u00e9sist\u00e9 et\nqu\u2019ils eussent regagn\u00e9 leur c\u00f4te.\nMais, pour revenir \u00e0 Vendredi, il \u00e9tait tellement occup\u00e9 de son\np\u00e8re, que de quelque temps je n\u2019eus pas le c\u0153ur de l\u2019arracher de l\u00e0.\nCependant, lorsque je pensai qu\u2019il pouvait le quitter un instant,\nje l\u2019appelai vers moi, et il vint sautant et riant et dans une joie\nextr\u00eame. Je lui demandai s\u2019il avait donn\u00e9 du pain \u00e0 son p\u00e8re. Il\nsecoua la t\u00eate, et r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abNon: moi, vilain chien, manger tout\nmoi-m\u00eame.\u00bb\u2014Je lui donnai donc un g\u00e2teau de pain, que je tirai d\u2019une\npetite poche que je portais \u00e0 cet effet. Je lui donnai aussi une\ngoutte de _rum_ pour lui-m\u00eame; mais il ne voulut pas y go\u00fbter et\nl\u2019offrit \u00e0 son p\u00e8re. J\u2019avais encore dans ma pochette deux ou trois\ngrappes de mes raisins, je lui en donnai de m\u00eame une poign\u00e9e pour son\np\u00e8re. A peine la lui eut-il port\u00e9e, que je le vis sortir de la pirogue\net s\u2019enfuir comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9pouvant\u00e9. Il courait avec une telle\nv\u00e9locit\u00e9,\u2014car c\u2019\u00e9tait le gar\u00e7on le plus agile de ses pieds que j\u2019aie\njamais vu,\u2014il courait avec une telle v\u00e9locit\u00e9, dis-je, qu\u2019en quelque\nsorte je le perdis de vue en un instant. J\u2019eus beau l\u2019appeler et crier\napr\u00e8s lui, ce fut inutile; il fila son chemin, et, un quart d\u2019heure\napr\u00e8s, je le vis revenir, mais avec moins de vitesse qu\u2019il ne s\u2019en\n\u00e9tait all\u00e9. Quand il s\u2019approcha, je m\u2019aper\u00e7us qu\u2019il avait ralenti son\npas, parce qu\u2019il portait quelque chose \u00e0 la main.\nArriv\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de moi, je reconnus qu\u2019il \u00e9tait all\u00e9 \u00e0 la maison chercher\nun pot de terre pour apporter de l\u2019eau fra\u00eeche, et qu\u2019il \u00e9tait charg\u00e9,\nen outre, de deux g\u00e2teaux ou galettes de pain. Il me donna le pain,\nmais il porta l\u2019eau \u00e0 son p\u00e8re. Cependant, comme j\u2019\u00e9tais moi-m\u00eame tr\u00e8s\nalt\u00e9r\u00e9, j\u2019en humai quelque peu. Cette eau ranima le sauvage beaucoup\nmieux que le _rum_ ou la liqueur forte que je lui avais donn\u00e9e, car il\nse mourait de soif.\nQuand il eut bu, j\u2019appelai Vendredi pour savoir s\u2019il restait encore\nun peu d\u2019eau; il me r\u00e9pondit que oui. Je le priai donc de la donner\nau pauvre Espagnol, qui en avait tout autant besoin que son p\u00e8re. Je\nlui envoyai aussi un des g\u00e2teaux que Vendredi avait \u00e9t\u00e9 chercher. Cet\nhomme, qui \u00e9tait vraiment tr\u00e8s affaibli, se reposait sur l\u2019herbe \u00e0\nl\u2019ombre d\u2019un arbre; ses membres \u00e9taient roides et tr\u00e8s enfl\u00e9s par les\nliens dont ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 brutalement garrott\u00e9s. Quand, \u00e0 l\u2019approche\nde Vendredi lui apportant de l\u2019eau, je le vis se dresser sur son\ns\u00e9ant, boire, prendre le pain et se mettre \u00e0 le manger, j\u2019allai \u00e0 lui\net lui donnai une poign\u00e9e de raisins. Il me regarda avec toutes les\nmarques de gratitude et de reconnaissance qui peuvent se manifester\nsur un visage; mais, quoiqu\u2019il se f\u00fbt si bien montr\u00e9 dans le combat,\nil \u00e9tait si d\u00e9faillant qu\u2019il ne pouvait se tenir debout; il l\u2019essaya\ndeux ou trois fois, mais r\u00e9ellement en vain, tant ses chevilles\n\u00e9taient enfl\u00e9es et douloureuses. Je l\u2019engageai donc \u00e0 ne pas bouger,\net priai Vendredi de les frotter et de les lui bassiner avec du _rum_,\ncomme il avait fait \u00e0 son p\u00e8re.\nJ\u2019observai que, durant le temps que le pauvre et affectionn\u00e9 Vendredi\nfut retenu l\u00e0, toutes les deux minutes, plus souvent m\u00eame, il\nretournait la t\u00eate pour voir si son p\u00e8re \u00e9tait \u00e0 la m\u00eame place et dans\nla m\u00eame posture o\u00f9 il l\u2019avait laiss\u00e9. Enfin, ne l\u2019apercevant plus, il\nse leva sans dire mot et courut vers lui avec tant de vitesse, qu\u2019il\nsemblait que ses pieds ne touchaient pas la terre; mais en arrivant\nil trouva seulement qu\u2019il s\u2019\u00e9tait couch\u00e9 pour reposer ses membres. Il\nrevint donc aussit\u00f4t, et je priai alors l\u2019Espagnol de permettre que\nVendredi l\u2019aid\u00e2t \u00e0 se lever et le conduis\u00eet jusqu\u2019au bateau, pour le\nmener \u00e0 notre demeure, o\u00f9 je prendrais soin de lui. Mais Vendredi,\nqui \u00e9tait un jeune et robuste compagnon, le chargea sur ses \u00e9paules,\nle porta au canot et l\u2019assit doucement sur un des c\u00f4t\u00e9s, les pieds\ntourn\u00e9s dans l\u2019int\u00e9rieur; puis, le soulevant encore, le pla\u00e7a tout\naupr\u00e8s de son p\u00e8re. Alors il ressortit de la pirogue, la mit \u00e0 la\nmer, et quoiqu\u2019il fit un vent assez violent, il pagaya le long du\nrivage plus vite que je ne pouvais marcher. Ainsi il les amena tous\ndeux en s\u00fbret\u00e9 dans notre crique, et, les laissant dans la barque, il\ncourut chercher l\u2019autre canot. Au moment o\u00f9 il passait pr\u00e8s de moi,\nje lui parlai et lui demandai o\u00f9 il allait. Il me r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abVais\nchercher plus bateau\u00bb\u2014Puis il repartit comme le vent; car assur\u00e9ment\njamais homme ni cheval ne coururent comme lui, et il eut amen\u00e9 le\nsecond canot dans la crique presque aussit\u00f4t que j\u2019y arrivai par\nterre. Alors il me fit passer sur l\u2019autre rive et alla ensuite aider\nnos nouveaux h\u00f4tes \u00e0 sortir du bateau. Mais, une fois dehors, ils ne\npurent marcher ni l\u2019un ni l\u2019autre: le pauvre Vendredi ne savait que\nfaire.\nPour rem\u00e9dier \u00e0 cela, je me pris \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, et je priai Vendredi\nde les inviter \u00e0 s\u2019asseoir sur le bord, tandis qu\u2019il viendrait avec\nmoi. J\u2019eus bient\u00f4t fabriqu\u00e9 une sorte de civi\u00e8re o\u00f9 nous les pla\u00e7\u00e2mes,\net sur laquelle, Vendredi et moi, nous les port\u00e2mes tous deux. Mais\nquand nous les e\u00fbmes apport\u00e9s au pied ext\u00e9rieur de notre muraille ou\nfortification, nous retomb\u00e2mes dans un pire embarras qu\u2019auparavant;\ncar il \u00e9tait impossible de les faire passer par-dessus et j\u2019\u00e9tais\nr\u00e9solu \u00e0 ne point l\u2019abattre. Je me remis donc \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage, et Vendredi\net moi nous e\u00fbmes fait en deux heures de temps environ une tr\u00e8s jolie\ntente avec de vieilles voiles, recouverte de branches d\u2019arbres, et\ndress\u00e9e dans l\u2019esplanade, entre notre retranchement ext\u00e9rieur et le\nbocage que j\u2019avais plant\u00e9. L\u00e0 nous leur f\u00eemes deux lits de ce que\nje me trouvais avoir, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de bonne paille de riz, avec des\ncouvertures jet\u00e9es dessus, l\u2019une pour se coucher et l\u2019autre pour se\ncouvrir.\nMon \u00eele \u00e9tait alors peupl\u00e9e, je me croyais tr\u00e8s riche en sujets; et\nil me vint et je fis souvent l\u2019agr\u00e9able r\u00e9flexion, que je ressemblais\n\u00e0 un roi. Premi\u00e8rement, tout le pays \u00e9tait ma propri\u00e9t\u00e9 absolue, de\nsorte que j\u2019avais un droit indubitable de domination; secondement,\nmon peuple \u00e9tait compl\u00e8tement soumis. J\u2019\u00e9tais souverain seigneur et\nl\u00e9gislateur; tous me devaient la vie et tous \u00e9taient pr\u00eats \u00e0 mourir\npour moi si besoin \u00e9tait. Chose surtout remarquable: je n\u2019avais que\ntrois sujets, et ils \u00e9taient de trois religions diff\u00e9rentes: mon homme\nVendredi \u00e9tait protestant, son p\u00e8re \u00e9tait idol\u00e2tre et cannibale, et\nl\u2019Espagnol \u00e9tait papiste. Toutefois, soit dit en passant, j\u2019accordai\nla libert\u00e9 de conscience dans toute l\u2019\u00e9tendue de mes \u00c9tats.\nSit\u00f4t que j\u2019eus mis en lieu de s\u00fbret\u00e9 mes deux pauvres prisonniers\nd\u00e9livr\u00e9s, que je leur eus donn\u00e9 un abri et une place pour se reposer,\nje songeai \u00e0 faire quelques provisions pour eux. J\u2019ordonnai d\u2019abord\n\u00e0 Vendredi de prendre dans mon troupeau particulier une bique ou\nun cabri d\u2019un an pour le tuer. J\u2019en coupai ensuite le quartier de\nderri\u00e8re, que je mis en petits morceaux. Je chargeai Vendredi de le\nfaire bouillir et \u00e9tuver, et il leur pr\u00e9para, je vous assure, un fort\nbon service de viande et de consomm\u00e9. J\u2019avais mis aussi un peu d\u2019orge\net de riz dans le bouillon. Comme j\u2019avais fait cuire cela dehors,\u2014car\njamais je n\u2019allumais de feu dans l\u2019int\u00e9rieur de mon retranchement,\u2014je\nportai le tout dans la nouvelle tente; et l\u00e0, ayant dress\u00e9 une table\npour mes h\u00f4tes, j\u2019y pris place moi-m\u00eame aupr\u00e8s d\u2019eux et je partageai\nleur d\u00eener. Je les encourageai et les r\u00e9confortai de mon mieux,\nVendredi me servant d\u2019interpr\u00e8te aupr\u00e8s de son p\u00e8re et m\u00eame aupr\u00e8s de\nl\u2019Espagnol, qui parlait assez bien la langue des sauvages.\nApr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes d\u00een\u00e9 ou plut\u00f4t soup\u00e9, j\u2019ordonnai \u00e0 Vendredi de\nprendre un des canots, et d\u2019aller chercher nos mousquets et autres\narmes \u00e0 feu, que, faute de temps, nous avions laiss\u00e9s sur le champ\nde bataille. Le lendemain, je lui donnai ordre d\u2019aller ensevelir\nles cadavres des sauvages, qui, laiss\u00e9s au soleil, auraient bient\u00f4t\nr\u00e9pandu l\u2019infection. Je lui enjoignis aussi d\u2019enterrer les horribles\nrestes de leur atroce festin, que je savais \u00eatre en assez grande\nquantit\u00e9. Je ne pouvais supporter la pens\u00e9e de le faire moi-m\u00eame:\nje n\u2019aurais pu m\u00eame en supporter la vue si je fusse all\u00e9 par l\u00e0. Il\nex\u00e9cuta tous mes ordres ponctuellement et fit dispara\u00eetre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la\nmoindre trace des sauvages; si bien qu\u2019en y retournant, j\u2019eus peine \u00e0\nreconna\u00eetre le lieu autrement que par le coin du bois qui saillait sur\nla place.\nJe commen\u00e7ai d\u00e8s lors \u00e0 converser un peu avec mes deux nouveaux\nsujets. Je chargeai premi\u00e8rement Vendredi de demander \u00e0 son p\u00e8re ce\nqu\u2019il pensait des sauvages \u00e9chapp\u00e9s dans le canot, et si nous devions\nnous attendre \u00e0 les voir revenir avec des forces trop sup\u00e9rieures\npour que nous pussions y r\u00e9sister; sa premi\u00e8re opinion fut qu\u2019ils\nn\u2019avaient pu surmonter la temp\u00eate qui avait souffl\u00e9 toute la nuit\nde leur fuite; qu\u2019ils avaient d\u00fb n\u00e9cessairement \u00eatre submerg\u00e9s ou\nentra\u00een\u00e9s au sud vers certains rivages, o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait aussi s\u00fbr qu\u2019ils\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9vor\u00e9s qu\u2019il \u00e9tait s\u00fbr qu\u2019ils avaient p\u00e9ri s\u2019ils avaient\nfait naufrage. Mais quant \u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils feraient s\u2019ils regagnaient sains\net saufs leur rivage, il dit qu\u2019il ne le savait pas; mais son opinion\n\u00e9tait qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 si effroyablement \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s de la mani\u00e8re\ndont nous les avions attaqu\u00e9s, du bruit et du feu de nos armes, qu\u2019ils\nraconteraient \u00e0 leur nation que leurs compagnons avaient tous \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s\npar le tonnerre et les \u00e9clairs, et non par la main des hommes, et que\nles deux \u00eatres qui leur \u00e9taient apparus,\u2014c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire Vendredi et\nmoi,\u2014\u00e9taient deux esprits c\u00e9lestes ou deux furies descendues sur terre\npour les d\u00e9truire, mais non des hommes arm\u00e9s. Il \u00e9tait port\u00e9 \u00e0 croire\ncela, disait-il, parce qu\u2019il les avait entendus se crier de l\u2019un \u00e0\nl\u2019autre, dans leur langage, qu\u2019ils ne pouvaient pas concevoir qu\u2019un\nhomme p\u00fbt _darder feu, parler tonnerre_ et tuer \u00e0 une grande distance\nsans lever seulement la main. Et ce vieux sauvage avait raison; car\ndepuis lors, comme je l\u2019appris ensuite et d\u2019autre part, les sauvages\nde cette nation ne tent\u00e8rent plus de descendre dans l\u2019\u00eele. Ils avaient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 si \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s par les r\u00e9cits de ces quatre hommes, qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il\npara\u00eet, \u00e9taient \u00e9chapp\u00e9s \u00e0 la mer, qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient persuad\u00e9 que\nquiconque aborderait \u00e0 cette \u00eele ensorcel\u00e9e serait d\u00e9truit par le feu\ndes dieux.\nToutefois, ignorant cela, je fus pendant assez longtemps dans de\ncontinuelles appr\u00e9hensions, et me tins sans cesse sur mes gardes, moi\net toute mon arm\u00e9e; comme alors nous \u00e9tions quatre, je me serais, en\nrase campagne, bravement aventur\u00e9 contre une centaine de ces barbares.\nCependant, un certain laps de temps s\u2019\u00e9tant \u00e9coul\u00e9 sans qu\u2019aucun\ncanot repar\u00fbt, ma crainte de leur venue se dissipa, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nme remettre en t\u00eate mes premi\u00e8res id\u00e9es de voyage \u00e0 la terre ferme,\nle p\u00e8re de Vendredi m\u2019assurant que je pouvais compter sur les bons\ntraitements qu\u2019\u00e0 sa consid\u00e9ration je recevrais de sa nation, si j\u2019y\nallais.\nMais je diff\u00e9rai un peu mon projet quand j\u2019eus eu une conversation\ns\u00e9rieuse avec l\u2019Espagnol, et que j\u2019eus acquis la certitude qu\u2019il y\navait encore seize de ses camarades, tant espagnols que portugais,\nqui, ayant fait naufrage et s\u2019\u00e9tant sauv\u00e9s sur cette c\u00f4te, y vivaient,\n\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, en paix avec les sauvages, mais en fort mauvaise passe\nquant \u00e0 leur n\u00e9cessaire, et au fait quant \u00e0 leur existence. Je lui\ndemandai toutes les particularit\u00e9s de leur voyage, et j\u2019appris qu\u2019ils\navaient appartenu \u00e0 un vaisseau espagnol venant de Rio de la Plata\net allant \u00e0 la Havane, o\u00f9 il devait d\u00e9barquer sa cargaison, qui\nconsistait principalement en pelleterie et en argent, et d\u2019o\u00f9 il\ndevait rapporter toutes les marchandises europ\u00e9ennes qu\u2019il y pourrait\ntrouver; qu\u2019il y avait \u00e0 bord cinq matelots portugais recueillis\nd\u2019un naufrage; que, tout d\u2019abord que le navire s\u2019\u00e9tait perdu, cinq\ndes leurs s\u2019\u00e9taient noy\u00e9s; que les autres, \u00e0 travers des dangers et\ndes hasards infinis, avaient abord\u00e9 mourants de faim \u00e0 cette c\u00f4te\ncannibale, o\u00f9 \u00e0 tout moment ils s\u2019attendaient \u00e0 \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s.\nIl me dit qu\u2019ils avaient quelques armes avec eux, mais qu\u2019elles leur\n\u00e9taient tout \u00e0 fait inutiles, faute de munitions, l\u2019eau de la mer\nayant g\u00e2t\u00e9 toute leur poudre, sauf une petite quantit\u00e9 qu\u2019ils avaient\nus\u00e9e d\u00e8s leur d\u00e9barquement pour se procurer quelque nourriture.\nJe lui demandai ce qu\u2019il pensait qu\u2019ils deviendraient l\u00e0, et s\u2019ils\nn\u2019avaient pas form\u00e9 quelque dessein de fuite. Il me r\u00e9pondit qu\u2019ils\navaient eu plusieurs d\u00e9lib\u00e9rations \u00e0 ce sujet, mais que, n\u2019ayant ni\nb\u00e2timent, ni outils pour en construire un, ni provisions d\u2019aucune\nsorte, leurs consultations s\u2019\u00e9taient toujours termin\u00e9es par les larmes\net le d\u00e9sespoir.\nJe lui demandai s\u2019il pouvait pr\u00e9sumer comment ils accueilleraient,\nvenant de moi, une proposition qui tendrait \u00e0 leur d\u00e9livrance, et\nsi, \u00e9tant tous dans mon \u00eele, elle ne pourrait pas s\u2019effectuer. Je\nlui avouai franchement que je redouterais beaucoup leur perfidie\net leur trahison si je d\u00e9posais ma vie entre leurs mains; car la\nreconnaissance n\u2019est pas une vertu inh\u00e9rente \u00e0 la nature humaine:\nles hommes souvent mesurent moins leurs proc\u00e9d\u00e9s aux bons offices\nqu\u2019ils ont re\u00e7us qu\u2019aux avantages qu\u2019ils se promettent.\u2014\u00abCe serait\nune chose bien dure pour moi, continuai-je, si j\u2019\u00e9tais l\u2019instrument\nde leur d\u00e9livrance, et qu\u2019ils me fissent ensuite leur prisonnier dans\nla Nouvelle-Espagne, o\u00f9 un Anglais peut avoir l\u2019assurance d\u2019\u00eatre\nsacrifi\u00e9, quelle que soit la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 ou quel que soit l\u2019accident\nqui l\u2019y ait amen\u00e9. J\u2019aimerais mieux \u00eatre livr\u00e9 aux sauvages et d\u00e9vor\u00e9\nvivant que de tomber entre les griffes impitoyables des Familiers,\net d\u2019\u00eatre tra\u00een\u00e9 devant l\u2019Inquisition.\u00bb J\u2019ajoutai qu\u2019\u00e0 part cette\nappr\u00e9hension, j\u2019\u00e9tais persuad\u00e9, s\u2019ils \u00e9taient tous dans mon \u00eele, que\nnous pourrions, \u00e0 l\u2019aide de tant de bras, construire une embarcation\nassez grande pour nous transporter soit au Br\u00e9sil du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du sud,\nsoit aux \u00eeles ou \u00e0 la c\u00f4te espagnole vers le nord; mais que si, en\nr\u00e9compense, lorsque je leur aurais mis les armes \u00e0 la main, ils\nm\u2019emmenaient de force dans leur patrie, je serais mal pay\u00e9 de\nmes bont\u00e9s pour eux, et j\u2019aurais fait mon sort pire qu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait\nauparavant.\nIl r\u00e9pondit, avec beaucoup de candeur et de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9, que leur\ncondition \u00e9tait si mis\u00e9rable et qu\u2019ils en \u00e9taient si p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9s,\nqu\u2019assur\u00e9ment ils auraient en horreur la pens\u00e9e d\u2019en user mal avec un\nhomme qui aurait contribu\u00e9 \u00e0 leur d\u00e9livrance; qu\u2019apr\u00e8s tout, si je\nvoulais, il irait vers eux avec le vieux sauvage, s\u2019entretiendrait\nde tout cela et reviendrait m\u2019apporter leur r\u00e9ponse; mais qu\u2019il\nn\u2019entrerait en trait\u00e9 avec eux que sous le serment solennel qu\u2019ils\nreconna\u00eetraient enti\u00e8rement mon autorit\u00e9 comme chef et capitaine; et\nqu\u2019il leur ferait jurer sur les saints sacrements et l\u2019\u00c9vangile d\u2019\u00eatre\nloyaux avec moi, d\u2019aller en tel pays chr\u00e9tien qu\u2019il me conviendrait,\net nulle autre part, et d\u2019\u00eatre soumis totalement et absolument \u00e0\nmes ordres jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils eussent d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 sains et saufs dans\nn\u2019importe quelle contr\u00e9e je voudrais; enfin, qu\u2019\u00e0 cet effet, il\nm\u2019apporterait un contrat dress\u00e9 par eux et sign\u00e9 de leur main.\nPuis il me dit qu\u2019il voulait d\u2019abord jurer lui-m\u00eame de ne jamais se\ns\u00e9parer de moi tant qu\u2019il vivrait, \u00e0 moins que je ne lui en donnasse\nl\u2019ordre, et de verser \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re goutte de son\nsang s\u2019il arrivait que ses compatriotes violassent en rien leur foi.\nIl m\u2019assura qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient tous des hommes tr\u00e8s francs et tr\u00e8s\nhonn\u00eates, qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient dans la plus grande d\u00e9tresse imaginable,\nd\u00e9nu\u00e9s d\u2019armes et d\u2019habits, et n\u2019ayant d\u2019autre nourriture que celle\nqu\u2019ils tenaient de la piti\u00e9 et de la discr\u00e9tion des sauvages; qu\u2019ils\navaient perdu tout espoir de retourner jamais dans leur patrie, et\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait s\u00fbr, si j\u2019entreprenais de les secourir, qu\u2019ils voudraient\nvivre et mourir pour moi.\nSur ces assurances, je r\u00e9solus de tenter l\u2019aventure et d\u2019envoyer le\nvieux sauvage et l\u2019Espagnol pour traiter avec eux. Mais quand il eut\ntout pr\u00e9par\u00e9 pour son d\u00e9part, l\u2019Espagnol lui-m\u00eame fit une objection\nqui d\u00e9celait tant de prudence d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 et tant de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 de\nl\u2019autre, que je ne pus en \u00eatre que tr\u00e8s satisfait; et, d\u2019apr\u00e8s son\navis, je diff\u00e9rai de six mois au moins la d\u00e9livrance de ses camarades.\nVoici le fait:\nIl y avait alors environ un mois qu\u2019il \u00e9tait avec nous; et durant\nce temps je lui avais montr\u00e9 de quelle mani\u00e8re j\u2019avais pourvu \u00e0 mes\nbesoins, avec l\u2019aide de la Providence. Il connaissait parfaitement\nce que j\u2019avais amass\u00e9 de bl\u00e9 et de riz: c\u2019\u00e9tait assez pour moi-m\u00eame;\nmais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas assez, du moins sans une grande \u00e9conomie, pour ma\nfamille, compos\u00e9e alors de quatre personnes; et si ses compatriotes,\nqui \u00e9taient, disait-il, seize encore vivants, fussent survenus, cette\nprovision aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 plus qu\u2019insuffisante, bien loin de pouvoir\navitailler notre vaisseau si nous en construisions un afin de passer\n\u00e0 l\u2019une des colonies chr\u00e9tiennes de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique. Il me dit donc qu\u2019il\ncroyait plus convenable que je permisse \u00e0 lui et aux deux autres de\nd\u00e9fricher et de cultiver de nouvelles terres, d\u2019y semer tout le grain\nque je pourrais \u00e9pargner, et que nous attendissions cette moisson,\nafin d\u2019avoir un surcro\u00eet de bl\u00e9 quand viendraient ses compatriotes;\ncar la disette pourrait \u00eatre pour eux une occasion de quereller,\nou de ne point se croire d\u00e9livr\u00e9s, mais tomb\u00e9s d\u2019une mis\u00e8re dans\nune autre.\u2014\u00abVous le savez, dit-il, quoique les enfants d\u2019Isra\u00ebl se\nr\u00e9jouirent d\u2019abord de leur sortie de l\u2019\u00c9gypte, cependant ils se\nr\u00e9volt\u00e8rent contre Dieu lui-m\u00eame, qui les avait d\u00e9livr\u00e9s, quand ils\nvinrent \u00e0 manquer de pain dans le d\u00e9sert.\u00bb\nSa pr\u00e9voyance \u00e9tait si sage et son avis si bon, que je fus aussi\ncharm\u00e9 de sa proposition que satisfait de sa fid\u00e9lit\u00e9. Nous nous m\u00eemes\ndonc \u00e0 labourer tous quatre du mieux que nous le permettaient les\noutils de bois dont nous \u00e9tions pourvus; et dans l\u2019espace d\u2019un mois\nenviron, au bout duquel venait le temps des semailles, nous e\u00fbmes\nd\u00e9frich\u00e9 et pr\u00e9par\u00e9 assez de terre pour semer vingt-deux boisseaux\nd\u2019orge et seize jarres de riz, ce qui \u00e9tait, en un mot, tout ce\nque nous pouvions distraire de notre grain; au fait, \u00e0 peine nous\nr\u00e9serv\u00e2mes-nous assez d\u2019orge pour notre nourriture durant les six mois\nque nous avions \u00e0 attendre notre r\u00e9colte, j\u2019entends six mois \u00e0 partir\ndu moment o\u00f9 nous e\u00fbmes mis \u00e0 part notre grain destin\u00e9 aux semailles;\ncar on ne doit pas supposer qu\u2019il demeure six mois en terre dans ce\npays. \u00c9tant en assez nombreuse soci\u00e9t\u00e9 pour ne point redouter les\nsauvages \u00e0 moins qu\u2019ils ne vinssent en foule, nous allions librement\ndans toute l\u2019\u00eele, partout o\u00f9 nous en avions l\u2019occasion; et, comme nous\navions tous l\u2019esprit pr\u00e9occup\u00e9 de notre fuite ou de notre d\u00e9livrance,\nil \u00e9tait impossible, du moins \u00e0 moi, de ne pas songer aux moyens\nde l\u2019accomplir. Dans cette vue, je marquai plusieurs arbres qui me\nparaissaient propres \u00e0 notre travail, je chargeai Vendredi et son p\u00e8re\nde les abattre, et je pr\u00e9posai \u00e0 la surveillance et \u00e0 la direction\nde leur besogne l\u2019Espagnol, \u00e0 qui j\u2019avais communiqu\u00e9 mes projets\nsur cette affaire. Je leur montrai avec quelles peines infatigables\nj\u2019avais r\u00e9duit un gros arbre en simples planches, et je les priai d\u2019en\nfaire de m\u00eame jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils eussent fabriqu\u00e9 environ une douzaine\nde fortes planches de bon ch\u00eane, de pr\u00e8s de deux pieds de large sur\ntrente-cinq pieds de long et de deux \u00e0 quatre pouces d\u2019\u00e9paisseur. Je\nlaisse \u00e0 penser quel prodigieux travail cela exigeait.\nEn m\u00eame temps je projetai d\u2019accro\u00eetre autant que possible mon petit\ntroupeau de ch\u00e8vres apprivois\u00e9es, et, \u00e0 cet effet, un jour j\u2019envoyais\n\u00e0 la chasse Vendredi et l\u2019Espagnol, et le jour suivant j\u2019y allais\nmoi-m\u00eame avec Vendredi, et ainsi tour \u00e0 tour. De cette mani\u00e8re nous\npr\u00eemes une vingtaine de jeunes chevreaux pour les \u00e9lever avec les\nautres; car toutes les fois que nous tirions sur une m\u00e8re, nous\nsauvions les cabris, et nous les joignions \u00e0 notre troupeau. Mais la\nsaison de s\u00e9cher les raisins \u00e9tant venue, j\u2019en recueillis et suspendis\nau soleil une quantit\u00e9 tellement prodigieuse, que, si nous avions\n\u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 Alicante, o\u00f9 se pr\u00e9parent les passerilles, nous aurions pu, je\ncrois, remplir soixante ou quatre-vingts barils. Ces raisins faisaient\navec notre pain une grande partie de notre nourriture, et un fort bon\naliment, je vous assure, excessivement succulent.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait alors la moisson, et notre r\u00e9colte \u00e9tait en bon \u00e9tat. Ce ne\nfut pas la plus abondante que j\u2019aie vue dans l\u2019\u00eele, mais cependant\nelle l\u2019\u00e9tait assez pour r\u00e9pondre \u00e0 nos fins. J\u2019avais sem\u00e9 vingt-deux\nboisseaux d\u2019orge, nous engrange\u00e2mes et batt\u00eemes environ deux cent\nvingt boisseaux, et le riz s\u2019accrut dans la m\u00eame proportion; ce qui\n\u00e9tait bien assez pour notre subsistance jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la moisson prochaine,\nquand bien m\u00eame tous les seize Espagnols eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 terre avec\nmoi; et, si nous eussions \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00eats pour notre voyage, cela aurait\nabondamment avitaill\u00e9 notre navire, pour nous transporter dans toutes\nles parties du monde, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique. Quand nous e\u00fbmes\nengrang\u00e9 et mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9 notre provision de grain, nous nous m\u00eemes \u00e0\nfaire de la vannerie, j\u2019entends de grandes corbeilles, dans lesquelles\nnous la conserv\u00e2mes. L\u2019Espagnol \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s habile et tr\u00e8s adroit \u00e0\ncela, et souvent il me bl\u00e2mait de ce que je n\u2019employais pas cette\nsorte d\u2019ouvrage comme cl\u00f4ture; mais je n\u2019en voyais pas la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9.\nAyant alors un grand surcro\u00eet de vivres pour tous les h\u00f4tes que\nj\u2019attendais, je permis \u00e0 l\u2019Espagnol de passer en terre ferme afin de\nvoir ce qu\u2019il pourrait n\u00e9gocier avec les compagnons qu\u2019il y avait\nlaiss\u00e9s derri\u00e8re lui. Je lui donnai un ordre formel de ne ramener avec\nlui aucun homme qui n\u2019e\u00fbt d\u2019abord jur\u00e9 en sa pr\u00e9sence et en celle du\nvieux sauvage que jamais il n\u2019offenserait, combattrait ou attaquerait\nla personne qu\u2019il trouverait dans l\u2019\u00eele, personne assez bonne pour\nenvoyer vers eux travailler \u00e0 leur d\u00e9livrance; mais, bien loin de l\u00e0!\nqu\u2019il la soutiendrait et la d\u00e9fendrait contre tout attentat semblable,\net que partout o\u00f9 elle irait il se soumettrait sans r\u00e9serve \u00e0 son\ncommandement. Ceci devait \u00eatre \u00e9crit et sign\u00e9 de leur main. Comment,\nsur ce point, pourrions-nous \u00eatre satisfaits, quand je n\u2019ignorais pas\nqu\u2019il n\u2019avait ni plume, ni encre? Ce fut une question que nous ne nous\nadress\u00e2mes jamais.\nMuni de ces instructions, l\u2019Espagnol et le vieux sauvage,\u2014le p\u00e8re\nde Vendredi,\u2014partirent dans un des canots sur lesquels on pourrait\ndire qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient venus, ou mieux avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 apport\u00e9s quand ils\narriv\u00e8rent comme prisonniers pour \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les sauvages.\nJe leur donnai \u00e0 chacun un mousquet \u00e0 rouet et environ huit charges de\npoudre et de balles, en leur recommandant d\u2019en \u00eatre tr\u00e8s m\u00e9nagers et\nde n\u2019en user que dans les occasions urgentes.\nTout ceci fut une agr\u00e9able besogne, car c\u2019\u00e9taient les premi\u00e8res\nmesures que je prenais en vue de ma d\u00e9livrance depuis vingt-sept ans\net quelques jours.\u2014Je leur donnai une provision de pain et de raisins\nsecs suffisante pour eux-m\u00eames pendant plusieurs jours et pour leurs\ncompatriotes pendant une huitaine environ, puis je les laissai partir,\nleur souhaitant un bon voyage et convenant avec eux qu\u2019\u00e0 leur retour\nils d\u00e9ploieraient certain signal par lequel, quand ils reviendraient,\nje les reconna\u00eetrais de loin, avant qu\u2019ils n\u2019atteignissent le rivage.\nCHAPITRE VI\n     Navire en vue.\u2014D\u00e9barquement du capitaine anglais.\u2014Offres\n     de service.\u2014Visite au ch\u00e2teau de Robinson.\u2014Mesures de\n     pr\u00e9caution.\u2014Nouvelle descente.\u2014Reddition des mutins.\u2014Le gouverneur\n     de l\u2019\u00eele.\u2014Attaque du navire.\u2014Gratitude du capitaine.\nIls s\u2019\u00e9loign\u00e8rent avec une brise favorable le jour o\u00f9 la lune \u00e9tait\ndans son plein, et, selon mon calcul, dans le mois d\u2019octobre. Quant au\ncompte exact des jours, apr\u00e8s que je l\u2019eus perdu une fois, je ne pus\njamais le retrouver; je n\u2019avais pas m\u00eame gard\u00e9 assez ponctuellement le\nchiffre des ann\u00e9es pour \u00eatre s\u00fbr qu\u2019il \u00e9tait juste; cependant, quand\nplus tard je v\u00e9rifiai mon calcul, je reconnus que j\u2019avais tenu un\ncompte fid\u00e8le des ann\u00e9es.\nIl n\u2019y avait pas moins de huit jours que je les attendais, quand\nsurvint une aventure \u00e9trange et inopin\u00e9e dont la pareille est\npeut-\u00eatre inou\u00efe dans l\u2019histoire.\u2014J\u2019\u00e9tais un matin profond\u00e9ment\nendormi dans ma _huche_; tout \u00e0 coup mon serviteur Vendredi vint en\ncourant vers moi et me cria:\u2014\u00abMa\u00eetre, ma\u00eetre, ils sont venus! ils sont\nvenus!\u00bb\nJe sautai \u00e0 bas du lit, et, ne pr\u00e9voyant aucun danger, je m\u2019\u00e9lan\u00e7ai,\naussit\u00f4t que j\u2019eus enfil\u00e9 mes v\u00eatements, \u00e0 travers mon petit bocage,\nqui, soit dit en passant, \u00e9tait alors devenu un bois tr\u00e8s \u00e9pais.\nJe dis ne pr\u00e9voyant aucun danger, car je sortis sans armes, contre\nma coutume; mais je fus bien surpris quand, tournant mes yeux vers\nla mer, j\u2019aper\u00e7us, \u00e0 environ une lieue et demie de distance, une\nembarcation qui portait le cap sur mon \u00eele, avec une voile en _\u00e9paule\nde mouton_, comme on l\u2019appelle, et \u00e0 la faveur d\u2019un assez bon vent. Je\nremarquai aussi tout d\u2019abord qu\u2019elle ne venait point de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 o\u00f9 la\nterre \u00e9tait situ\u00e9e, mais de la pointe la plus m\u00e9ridionale de l\u2019\u00eele.\nL\u00e0-dessus j\u2019appelai Vendredi et lui enjoignis de se tenir cach\u00e9, car\nces gens n\u2019\u00e9taient pas ceux que nous attendions, et nous ne savions\npas encore s\u2019ils \u00e9taient amis ou ennemis.\nVite je courus chercher ma longue-vue, pour voir ce que j\u2019aurais \u00e0\nfaire. Je dressai mon \u00e9chelle et je grimpai sur le sommet du rocher,\ncomme j\u2019avais coutume de le faire lorsque j\u2019appr\u00e9hendais quelque\nchose et que je voulais planer au loin sans me d\u00e9couvrir.\n[Illustration: Mon \u0153il distingua parfaitement un navire \u00e0 l\u2019ancre.]\nA peine avais-je mis le pied sur le rocher, que mon \u0153il distingua\nparfaitement un navire \u00e0 l\u2019ancre, \u00e0 environ deux lieues et demie de\nmoi, au sud-sud-est, mais seulement \u00e0 une lieue et demie du rivage.\nPar mes observations je reconnus, \u00e0 n\u2019en pas douter, que le b\u00e2timent\ndevait \u00eatre anglais, et l\u2019embarcation une chaloupe anglaise.\nJe ne saurais exprimer le trouble o\u00f9 je tombai, bien que la joie de\nvoir un navire, et un navire que j\u2019avais raison de croire mont\u00e9 par\nmes compatriotes, et par cons\u00e9quent des amis, f\u00fbt telle que je ne\npuis la d\u00e9peindre. Cependant des doutes secrets, dont j\u2019ignorais la\nsource, m\u2019enveloppaient et me commandaient de veiller sur moi. Je me\npris d\u2019abord \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer quelle affaire un vaisseau anglais pouvait\navoir dans cette partie du monde, puisque ce n\u2019\u00e9tait, ni pour aller,\nni pour revenir, le chemin d\u2019aucun des pays o\u00f9 l\u2019Angleterre a quelque\ncomptoir. Je savais qu\u2019aucune temp\u00eate n\u2019avait pu le faire d\u00e9river\nde ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 en \u00e9tat de d\u00e9tresse. S\u2019ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9ellement Anglais,\nil \u00e9tait donc plus que probable qu\u2019ils ne venaient pas avec de bons\ndesseins; et il valait mieux pour moi demeurer comme j\u2019\u00e9tais que de\ntomber entre les mains de voleurs et de meurtriers.\nQue l\u2019homme ne m\u00e9prise pas les pressentiments et les avertissements\nsecrets du danger qui parfois lui sont donn\u00e9s quand il ne peut\nentrevoir la possibilit\u00e9 de son existence r\u00e9elle. Que de tels\npressentiments et avertissements nous soient donn\u00e9s, je crois que\npeu de gens ayant fait quelque observation des choses puissent le\nnier; qu\u2019ils soient les manifestations certaines d\u2019un monde invisible\net du commerce des esprits, on ne saurait non plus le mettre en\ndoute. Et s\u2019ils semblent tendre \u00e0 nous avertir du danger, pourquoi\nne supposerions-nous pas qu\u2019ils nous viennent de quelque agent\npropice,\u2014soit supr\u00eame ou inf\u00e9rieur et subordonn\u00e9, ce n\u2019est pas l\u00e0 que\ng\u00eet la question,\u2014et qu\u2019ils nous sont donn\u00e9s pour notre bien?\nLe fait pr\u00e9sent me confirme fortement dans la justesse de ce\nraisonnement, car si je n\u2019avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 rendu circonspect par cette\nsecr\u00e8te admonition, qu\u2019elle vienne d\u2019o\u00f9 elle voudra, j\u2019aurais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 in\u00e9vitablement perdu, et dans une condition cent fois pire\nqu\u2019auparavant, comme on le verra tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure.\nJe ne me tins pas longtemps dans cette position sans voir\nl\u2019embarcation approcher du rivage, comme si elle cherchait une crique\npour y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer et accoster la terre commod\u00e9ment. Toutefois, comme\nelle ne remonta pas tout \u00e0 fait assez loin, l\u2019\u00e9quipage n\u2019aper\u00e7ut pas\nla petite anse o\u00f9 j\u2019avais autrefois abord\u00e9 avec mes radeaux, et tira\nla chaloupe sur la gr\u00e8ve \u00e0 environ un demi-mille de moi; ce qui fut\ntr\u00e8s heureux, car autrement il aurait pour ainsi dire d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 juste\n\u00e0 ma porte, m\u2019aurait eu bient\u00f4t arrach\u00e9 de mon ch\u00e2teau, et peut-\u00eatre\nm\u2019aurait d\u00e9pouill\u00e9 de tout ce que j\u2019avais.\nQuand ils furent sur le rivage, je me convainquis pleinement qu\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient Anglais, au moins pour la plupart. Un ou deux me sembl\u00e8rent\nHollandais, mais cela ne se v\u00e9rifia pas. Il y avait en tout onze\nhommes, dont je trouvai que trois \u00e9taient sans armes et\u2014autant que je\npus voir\u2014garrott\u00e9s. Les premiers quatre ou cinq qui descendirent \u00e0\nterre firent sortir ces trois de la chaloupe, comme des prisonniers.\nJe pus distinguer que l\u2019un de ces trois faisait les gestes les plus\npassionn\u00e9s, des gestes de supplication, de douleur et de d\u00e9sespoir,\nallant jusqu\u2019\u00e0 une sorte d\u2019extravagance. Les deux autres, je le\ndistinguai aussi, levaient quelquefois leurs mains au ciel, et \u00e0 la\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 paraissaient afflig\u00e9s, mais pas aussi profond\u00e9ment que le\npremier.\nA cette vue je fus jet\u00e9 dans un grand trouble, et je ne savais quel\nserait le sens de tout cela.\u2014Vendredi tout \u00e0 coup s\u2019\u00e9cria en anglais,\net de son mieux possible:\u2014\u00abO ma\u00eetre! vous voir hommes anglais manger\nprisonniers aussi bien qu\u2019hommes sauvages!\u00bb\u2014\u00abQuoi! dis-je \u00e0 Vendredi,\ntu penses qu\u2019ils vont les manger?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, r\u00e9pondit-il, eux vouloir les\nmanger.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, non, r\u00e9pliquai-je: je redoute, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, qu\u2019ils ne\nveuillent les assassiner, mais sois s\u00fbr qu\u2019ils ne les mangeront pas.\u00bb\nDurant tout ce temps je n\u2019eus aucune id\u00e9e de ce que r\u00e9ellement ce\npouvait \u00eatre; mais je demeurais tremblant d\u2019horreur \u00e0 ce spectacle,\nm\u2019attendant \u00e0 tout instant que les trois prisonniers seraient\nmassacr\u00e9s. Je vis m\u00eame une fois un de ces sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats lever un grand\ncoutelas ou poignard,\u2014comme l\u2019appellent les marins,\u2014pour frapper un de\nces malheureux hommes. Je crus que c\u2019\u00e9tait fait de lui, tout mon sang\nse gla\u00e7a dans mes veines.\nJe regrettais alors du fond du c\u0153ur notre Espagnol et le vieux sauvage\nparti avec lui, et je souhaitais de trouver quelque moyen d\u2019arriver\ninaper\u00e7u \u00e0 port\u00e9e de fusil de ces bandits pour d\u00e9livrer les trois\nhommes; car je ne leur voyais point d\u2019armes \u00e0 feu. Mais un autre\nexp\u00e9dient se pr\u00e9senta \u00e0 mon esprit.\nApr\u00e8s avoir remarqu\u00e9 l\u2019outrageux traitement fait aux trois prisonniers\npar l\u2019insolent matelot, je vis que ses compagnons se dispers\u00e8rent par\ntoute l\u2019\u00eele, comme s\u2019ils voulaient reconna\u00eetre le pays. Je remarquai\naussi que les trois autres avaient la libert\u00e9 d\u2019aller o\u00f9 il leur\nplairait; mais ils s\u2019assirent tous trois \u00e0 terre, tr\u00e8s mornes et l\u2019\u0153il\nhagard, comme des hommes au d\u00e9sespoir.\nCeci me fit souvenir du premier moment o\u00f9 j\u2019abordai dans l\u2019\u00eele et\ncommen\u00e7ai \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ma position. Je me rem\u00e9morai combien je me\ncroyais perdu, combien d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9ment je promenais mes regards autour\nde moi, quelles terribles appr\u00e9hensions j\u2019avais, et comment je me\nlogeai dans un arbre toute la nuit, de peur d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par les\nb\u00eates f\u00e9roces.\nDe m\u00eame que cette nuit-l\u00e0 je ne me doutais pas du secours que\nj\u2019allais recevoir du providentiel entra\u00eenement du vaisseau vers le\nrivage, par la temp\u00eate et la mar\u00e9e, du vaisseau qui depuis me nourrit\net m\u2019entretint si longtemps; de m\u00eame ces trois pauvres d\u00e9sol\u00e9s ne\nsoup\u00e7onnaient pas combien leur d\u00e9livrance et leur consolation \u00e9taient\nassur\u00e9es, combien elles \u00e9taient prochaines, et combien effectivement\net r\u00e9ellement ils \u00e9taient en \u00e9tat de salut au moment m\u00eame o\u00f9 ils se\ncroyaient perdus et dans un cas d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9.\nDonc nous voyons peu devant nous ici-bas. Donc avons-nous de\npuissantes raisons pour nous reposer avec joie sur le grand Cr\u00e9ateur\ndu monde, qui ne laisse jamais ses cr\u00e9atures dans un entier d\u00e9n\u00fbment.\nElles ont toujours dans les pires circonstances quelque motif de\nlui rendre gr\u00e2ces, et sont quelquefois plus pr\u00e8s de leur d\u00e9livrance\nqu\u2019elles ne l\u2019imaginent; souvent m\u00eame elles sont amen\u00e9es \u00e0 leur salut\npar les moyens qui leur semblaient devoir les conduire \u00e0 leur ruine.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait justement au plus haut de la mar\u00e9e montante que ces gens\n\u00e9taient venus \u00e0 terre; et, tant\u00f4t pourparlant avec leurs prisonniers,\net tant\u00f4t r\u00f4dant pour voir dans quelle esp\u00e8ce de lieu ils avaient mis\nle pied, ils s\u2019\u00e9taient amus\u00e9s n\u00e9gligemment jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que la mar\u00e9e f\u00fbt\npass\u00e9e, et que l\u2019eau se f\u00fbt retir\u00e9e consid\u00e9rablement, laissant leur\nchaloupe \u00e9chou\u00e9e.\nIls l\u2019avaient confi\u00e9e \u00e0 deux hommes qui, comme je m\u2019en aper\u00e7us plus\ntard, ayant bu un peu trop d\u2019eau-de-vie, s\u2019\u00e9taient endormis. Cependant\nl\u2019un d\u2019eux, se r\u00e9veillant plus t\u00f4t que l\u2019autre et trouvant la chaloupe\ntrop ensabl\u00e9e pour la d\u00e9gager tout seul, se mit \u00e0 crier apr\u00e8s ses\ncamarades, qui erraient aux environs. Aussit\u00f4t ils accoururent;\nmais tous leurs efforts pour la mettre \u00e0 flot furent inutiles: elle\n\u00e9tait trop pesante, et le rivage de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 \u00e9tait une gr\u00e8ve molle et\nvaseuse, presque comme un sable mouvant.\nVoyant cela, en vrais marins, ce sont peut-\u00eatre les moins pr\u00e9voyants\nde tous les hommes, ils pass\u00e8rent outre, et se remirent \u00e0 vaguer \u00e7\u00e0\net l\u00e0 dans le pays. Puis j\u2019entendis l\u2019un deux crier \u00e0 un autre,\u2014en\nl\u2019engageant \u00e0 s\u2019\u00e9loigner de la chaloupe:\u2014\u00abH\u00e9! Jack, peux-tu pas la\nlaisser tranquille? \u00e0 la prochaine mar\u00e9e elle flottera.\u00bb\u2014Ces mots me\nconfirm\u00e8rent pleinement dans ma forte pr\u00e9somption qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient mes\ncompatriotes.\nPendant tout ce temps je me tins \u00e0 couvert, je n\u2019osai pas une seule\nfois sortir de mon ch\u00e2teau pour aller plus loin qu\u2019\u00e0 mon lieu\nd\u2019observation, sur le sommet du rocher, et tr\u00e8s joyeux j\u2019\u00e9tais en\nsongeant combien ma demeure \u00e9tait fortifi\u00e9e. Je savais que la chaloupe\nne pourrait \u00eatre \u00e0 flot avant dix heures, et qu\u2019alors faisant sombre,\nje serais plus \u00e0 m\u00eame d\u2019observer leurs mouvements et d\u2019\u00e9couter leurs\npropos s\u2019ils en tenaient.\nDans ces entrefaites je me pr\u00e9parai pour le combat comme autrefois,\nbien qu\u2019avec plus de pr\u00e9cautions, sachant que j\u2019avais affaire avec une\ntout autre esp\u00e8ce d\u2019ennemis que par le pass\u00e9. J\u2019ordonnai pareillement\n\u00e0 Vendredi, dont j\u2019avais fait un excellent tireur, de se munir\nd\u2019armes. Je pris moi-m\u00eame deux fusils de chasse et je lui donnai trois\nmousquets. Ma figure \u00e9tait vraiment farouche: j\u2019avais ma formidable\ncasaque de peau de ch\u00e8vre, avec le grand bonnet que j\u2019ai mentionn\u00e9, un\nsabre nu, deux pistolets \u00e0 ma ceinture et un fusil sur chaque \u00e9paule.\nMon dessein \u00e9tait, comme je le disais tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure, de ne faire\naucune tentative avant qu\u2019il fit nuit; mais vers deux heures environ,\nau plus chaud du jour, je m\u2019aper\u00e7us qu\u2019en r\u00f4dant ils \u00e9taient tous\nall\u00e9s dans les bois, sans doute pour s\u2019y coucher et dormir. Les\ntrois pauvres infortun\u00e9s, trop inquiets sur leur sort pour go\u00fbter\nle sommeil, \u00e9taient cependant \u00e9tendus \u00e0 l\u2019ombre d\u2019un grand arbre, \u00e0\nenviron un quart de mille de moi, et probablement hors de la vue des\nautres.\nSur ce, je r\u00e9solus de me d\u00e9couvrir \u00e0 eux et d\u2019apprendre quelque chose\nde leur condition. Imm\u00e9diatement je me mis en marche dans l\u2019\u00e9quipage\nque j\u2019ai dit, mon serviteur Vendredi \u00e0 une bonne distance derri\u00e8re\nmoi, aussi formidablement arm\u00e9 que moi, mais ne faisant pas tout \u00e0\nfait une figure de fant\u00f4me aussi effroyable que la mienne.\nJe me glissai inaper\u00e7u aussi pr\u00e8s qu\u2019il me fut possible, et avant\nqu\u2019aucun d\u2019eux m\u2019e\u00fbt d\u00e9couvert, je leur criai en espagnol:\u2014\u00abQui\n\u00eates-vous, gentlemen?\u00bb\n[Illustration: \u00abQui \u00eates-vous, gentlemen?\u00bb.]\nIls se lev\u00e8rent \u00e0 ce bruit; mais ils furent deux fois plus troubl\u00e9s\nquand ils me virent, moi et la figure r\u00e9barbative que je faisais. Ils\nrest\u00e8rent muets et s\u2019appr\u00eataient \u00e0 s\u2019enfuir, quand je leur adressai\nla parole en anglais:\u2014\u00abGentlemen, dis-je, ne soyez point surpris de\nma venue; peut-\u00eatre avez-vous aupr\u00e8s de vous un ami, bien que vous ne\nvous y attendissiez pas.\u00bb\u2014\u00abIl faut alors qu\u2019il soit envoy\u00e9 du ciel, me\nr\u00e9pondit l\u2019un d\u2019eux tr\u00e8s gravement, \u00f4tant en m\u00eame temps son chapeau,\ncar notre condition passe tout secours humain.\u00bb\u2014\u00abTout secours vient du\nciel, sir, r\u00e9pliquai-je. Mais ne pourriez-vous pas mettre un \u00e9tranger\n\u00e0 m\u00eame de vous secourir, car vous semblez plong\u00e9 dans quelque grand\nmalheur? Je vous ai vu d\u00e9barquer; et, lorsque vous paraissiez faire\nune supplication \u00e0 ces brutaux qui sont venus avec vous,\u2014j\u2019ai vu l\u2019un\nd\u2019eux lever son sabre pour vous tuer.\u00bb\nLe pauvre homme, tremblant, la figure baign\u00e9e de larmes, et dans\nl\u2019\u00e9bahissement, s\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abParl\u00e9-je \u00e0 un Dieu ou \u00e0 un homme? En v\u00e9rit\u00e9,\n\u00eates-vous un homme ou un ange?\u00bb\u2014\u00abSoyez sans crainte, sir, r\u00e9pondis-je;\nsi Dieu avait envoy\u00e9 un ange pour vous secourir, il serait venu mieux\nv\u00eatu et arm\u00e9 de toute autre fa\u00e7on que je ne le suis. Je vous en prie,\nmettez de c\u00f4t\u00e9 vos craintes, je suis un homme, un Anglais pr\u00eat \u00e0 vous\nsecourir; vous le voyez, j\u2019ai seulement un serviteur, mais nous avons\ndes armes et des munitions; dites franchement, pouvons-nous vous\nservir? Dites, quelle est votre infortune?\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abNotre infortune, sir, serait trop longue \u00e0 raconter, tandis que\nnos assassins sont si proches. Mais bref, sir, je suis capitaine de\nce vaisseau: mon \u00e9quipage s\u2019est mutin\u00e9 contre moi, j\u2019ai obtenu \u00e0\ngrand\u2019peine qu\u2019il ne me tuerait pas, et enfin d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9pos\u00e9 au rivage,\ndans ce lieu d\u00e9sert, ainsi que ces deux hommes; l\u2019un est mon second\net l\u2019autre un passager. Ici nous nous attendions \u00e0 p\u00e9rir, croyant la\nplace inhabit\u00e9e, et nous ne savons que penser de cela.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abO\u00f9 sont, lui dis-je, ces cruels, vos ennemis? savez-vous o\u00f9 ils sont\nall\u00e9s?\u00bb\u2014\u00abIls sont l\u00e0, sir, r\u00e9pondit-il, montrant du doigt un fourr\u00e9\nd\u2019arbres; mon c\u0153ur tremble de crainte qu\u2019ils ne nous aient vus et\nqu\u2019ils ne vous aient entendu parler: si cela \u00e9tait, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, ils\nnous massacreraient tous.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abOnt-ils des armes \u00e0 feu?\u00bb lui demandai-je.\u2014\u00abDeux mousquets seulement\net un qu\u2019ils ont laiss\u00e9 dans la chaloupe,\u00bb r\u00e9pondit-il.\u2014\u00abFort bien,\ndis-je, je me charge du reste; je vois qu\u2019ils sont tous endormis,\nc\u2019est chose facile que de les tuer tous. Mais ne vaudrait-il pas mieux\nles faire prisonniers?\u00bb\u2014Il me dit alors que parmi eux il y avait\ndeux d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s coquins \u00e0 qui il ne serait pas trop prudent de faire\ngr\u00e2ce; mais que, si on s\u2019en assurait, il pensait que tous les autres\nretourneraient \u00e0 leur devoir. Je lui demandai lesquels c\u2019\u00e9taient. Il\nme dit qu\u2019\u00e0 cette distance il ne pouvait les indiquer, mais qu\u2019il\nob\u00e9irait \u00e0 mes ordres dans tout ce que je voudrais commander.\u2014\u00abEh\nbien, dis-je, mettons-nous hors de leur vue et de la port\u00e9e de leurs\noreilles, de peur qu\u2019ils ne s\u2019\u00e9veillent, et nous d\u00e9lib\u00e9rerons plus \u00e0\nfond.\u00bb\u2014Puis volontiers ils s\u2019\u00e9loign\u00e8rent avec moi jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que les\nbois nous eussent cach\u00e9s.\n\u2014\u00abVoyez, sir, lui dis-je, si j\u2019entreprends votre d\u00e9livrance, \u00eates-vous\npr\u00eat \u00e0 faire deux conditions avec moi?\u00bb Il pr\u00e9vint mes propositions\nen me d\u00e9clarant que lui et son vaisseau, s\u2019il le recouvrait, seraient\nen toutes choses enti\u00e8rement dirig\u00e9s et command\u00e9s par moi; et que,\nsi le navire n\u2019\u00e9tait point repris, il vivrait et mourrait avec moi\ndans quelque partie du monde que je voulusse le conduire; et les deux\nautres hommes protest\u00e8rent de m\u00eame.\n\u2014\u00abEh bien, dis-je, mes deux conditions les voici:\n\u00ab1^o Tant que vous demeurerez dans cette \u00eele avec moi, vous ne\npr\u00e9tendrez ici \u00e0 aucune autorit\u00e9. Si je vous confie des armes, vous en\nviderez vos mains quand bon me semblera. Vous ne ferez aucun pr\u00e9judice\nni \u00e0 moi ni aux miens sur cette terre, et vous serez soumis \u00e0 mes\nordres;\n\u00ab2^o Si le navire est ou peut \u00eatre recouvr\u00e9, vous me transporterez\ngratuitement, moi et mon serviteur, en Angleterre.\u00bb\nIl me donna toutes les assurances que l\u2019imagination et la bonne\nfoi humaines puissent inventer qu\u2019il se soumettrait \u00e0 ces demandes\nextr\u00eamement raisonnables, et qu\u2019en outre, comme il me devait la vie,\nil le reconna\u00eetrait en toute occasion aussi longtemps qu\u2019il vivrait.\n\u2014\u00abEh bien, dis-je alors, voici trois mousquets pour vous, avec de\nla poudre et des balles; dites-moi maintenant ce que vous pensez\nconvenable de faire.\u00bb Il me t\u00e9moigna toute la gratitude dont il \u00e9tait\ncapable, mais il me demanda \u00e0 se laisser enti\u00e8rement guider par moi.\nJe lui dis que je croyais l\u2019affaire tr\u00e8s chanceuse; que le meilleur\nparti, selon moi, \u00e9tait de faire feu sur eux tout d\u2019un coup pendant\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient couch\u00e9s; que, si quelqu\u2019un, \u00e9chappant \u00e0 notre premi\u00e8re\nd\u00e9charge, voulait se rendre, nous pourrions le sauver, et qu\u2019ainsi\nnous laisserions \u00e0 la providence de Dieu la direction de nos coups.\nIl me r\u00e9pliqua, avec beaucoup de mod\u00e9ration, qu\u2019il lui co\u00fbterait\nde les tuer s\u2019il pouvait faire autrement; mais que pour ces deux\nincorrigibles vauriens qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 les auteurs de toute la\nmutinerie dans le b\u00e2timent, s\u2019ils \u00e9chappaient, nous serions perdus:\ncar ils iraient \u00e0 bord et ram\u00e8neraient tout l\u2019\u00e9quipage pour nous\ntuer.\u2014\u00abCela \u00e9tant, dis-je, la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 confirme mon avis: c\u2019est le\nseul moyen de sauver notre vie.\u00bb\u2014Cependant, lui voyant toujours de\nl\u2019aversion pour r\u00e9pandre le sang, je lui dis de s\u2019avancer avec ses\ncompagnons et d\u2019agir comme ils le jugeraient convenable.\nAu milieu de cet entretien, nous en entend\u00eemes quelques-uns se\nr\u00e9veiller, et bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s nous en v\u00eemes deux sur pied. Je demandai\nau capitaine s\u2019ils \u00e9taient les chefs de la mutinerie; il me r\u00e9pondit\nque non.\u2014\u00abEh bien! laissez-les se retirer, la Providence semble les\navoir \u00e9veill\u00e9s \u00e0 dessein de leur sauver la vie. Maintenant, si les\nautres vous \u00e9chappent, c\u2019est votre faute.\u00bb\nAnim\u00e9 par ces paroles, il prit \u00e0 la main le mousquet que je lui\navais donn\u00e9, un pistolet \u00e0 sa ceinture, et s\u2019avan\u00e7a avec ses deux\ncompagnons, arm\u00e9s \u00e9galement chacun d\u2019un fusil. Marchant devant,\nces deux hommes firent quelque bruit: un des matelots, qui s\u2019\u00e9tait\n\u00e9veill\u00e9, se retourna, et les voyant venir, il se mit \u00e0 appeler les\nautres; mais il \u00e9tait trop tard, car au moment o\u00f9 il cria, ils firent\nfeu,\u2014j\u2019entends les deux hommes,\u2014le capitaine r\u00e9servant prudemment son\ncoup. Ils avaient si bien vis\u00e9 les meneurs, qu\u2019ils connaissaient,\nque l\u2019un d\u2019eux fut tu\u00e9 sur la place, et l\u2019autre gri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9.\nN\u2019\u00e9tant point frapp\u00e9 \u00e0 mort, il se dressa sur ses pieds, et appela\nvivement \u00e0 son aide; mais le capitaine le joignit et lui dit qu\u2019il\n\u00e9tait trop tard pour crier au secours, qu\u2019il ferait mieux de demander\n\u00e0 Dieu le pardon de son infamie; et \u00e0 ces mots il lui ass\u00e9na un coup\nde crosse qui lui coupa la parole \u00e0 jamais. De cette troupe il en\nrestait encore trois, dont l\u2019un \u00e9tait l\u00e9g\u00e8rement bless\u00e9. J\u2019arrivai en\nce moment; et quand ils virent leur danger et qu\u2019il serait inutile\nde faire de la r\u00e9sistance, ils implor\u00e8rent mis\u00e9ricorde. Le capitaine\nleur dit:\u2014\u00abJe vous accorderai la vie si vous voulez me donner quelque\nassurance que vous prenez en horreur la trahison dont vous vous \u00eates\nrendus coupables, et jurez de m\u2019aider fid\u00e8lement \u00e0 recouvrer le navire\net \u00e0 le ramener \u00e0 la Jama\u00efque, d\u2019o\u00f9 il vient.\u00bb Ils lui firent toutes\nles protestations de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 qu\u2019on pouvait d\u00e9sirer; et, comme il\ninclinait \u00e0 les croire et \u00e0 leur laisser la vie sauve, je n\u2019allai\npoint \u00e0 l\u2019encontre; je l\u2019obligeai seulement \u00e0 les garder pieds et\nmains li\u00e9s tant qu\u2019ils seraient dans l\u2019\u00eele.\n[Illustration: Ils implor\u00e8rent mis\u00e9ricorde.]\nSur ces entrefaites, j\u2019envoyai Vendredi et le second du capitaine vers\nla chaloupe avec ordre de s\u2019en assurer, et d\u2019emporter les avirons et\nla voile; ce qu\u2019ils firent. Aussit\u00f4t, trois matelots r\u00f4dant, qui,\nfort heureusement pour eux, s\u2019\u00e9taient \u00e9cart\u00e9s des autres, revinrent\nau bruit des mousquets; et, voyant leur capitaine, de leur prisonnier\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait, devenu leur vainqueur, ils consentirent \u00e0 se laisser\ngarrotter aussi; et notre victoire fut compl\u00e8te.\nIl ne restait plus alors au capitaine et \u00e0 moi qu\u2019\u00e0 nous ouvrir\nr\u00e9ciproquement sur notre position. Je commen\u00e7ai le premier, et lui\ncontai mon histoire enti\u00e8re, qu\u2019il \u00e9couta avec une attention qui\nallait jusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9bahissement, surtout la mani\u00e8re merveilleuse dont\nj\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 fourni de vivres et de munitions. Et au fait, comme mon\nhistoire est un tissu de prodiges, elle fit sur lui une profonde\nimpression. Puis, quand il en vint \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur lui-m\u00eame, et que je\nsemblais avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9serv\u00e9 en ce lieu \u00e0 dessein de lui sauver la vie,\ndes larmes coul\u00e8rent sur sa face, et il ne put prof\u00e9rer une parole.\nApr\u00e8s que cette conversation fut termin\u00e9e, je le conduisis lui et ses\ndeux compagnons dans mon logis, o\u00f9 je les introduisis par mon issue,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire par le haut de la maison. L\u00e0, pour se rafra\u00eechir, je leur\noffris les provisions que je me trouvais avoir, puis je leur montrai\ntoutes les inventions dont je m\u2019\u00e9tais ing\u00e9ni\u00e9 pendant mon long s\u00e9jour,\nmon bien long s\u00e9jour en ce lieu.\nTout ce que je leur faisais voir, tout ce que je leur disais excitait\nleur \u00e9tonnement. Mais le capitaine admira surtout mes fortifications,\net combien j\u2019avais habilement masqu\u00e9 ma retraite par un fourr\u00e9\nd\u2019arbres. Il y avait alors pr\u00e8s de vingt ans qu\u2019il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 plant\u00e9;\net, comme en ces r\u00e9gions la v\u00e9g\u00e9tation est beaucoup plus prompte\nqu\u2019en Angleterre, il \u00e9tait devenu une petite for\u00eat si \u00e9paisse qu\u2019elle\n\u00e9tait imp\u00e9n\u00e9trable de toutes parts, except\u00e9 d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9, o\u00f9 je m\u2019\u00e9tais\nr\u00e9serv\u00e9 un petit passage tortueux. Je lui dis que c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 mon\nch\u00e2teau et ma r\u00e9sidence, mais que j\u2019avais aussi, comme la plupart\ndes princes, une maison de plaisance \u00e0 la campagne, o\u00f9 je pouvais\nme retirer \u00e0 l\u2019occasion, et que je lui montrerais une autre fois;\nmais que pour le pr\u00e9sent notre affaire \u00e9tait de songer aux moyens\nde recouvrer le vaisseau. Il en convint avec moi, mais il m\u2019avoua\nqu\u2019il ne savait vraiment quelles mesures prendre.\u2014\u00abIl y a encore \u00e0\nbord, dit-il, vingt-six hommes qui, ayant tremp\u00e9 dans une abominable\nconspiration, compromettant leur vie vis-\u00e0-vis de la loi, s\u2019y\nopini\u00e2treront par d\u00e9sespoir et voudront pousser les choses \u00e0 bout: car\nils n\u2019ignorent pas que s\u2019ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9duits, ils seraient pendus en\narrivant en Angleterre ou dans quelqu\u2019une de ses colonies. Nous sommes\nen trop petit nombre pour nous permettre de les attaquer.\u00bb\nJe r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis quelque temps sur cette objection, et j\u2019en trouvai la\nconclusion tr\u00e8s raisonnable. Il s\u2019agissait donc d\u2019imaginer promptement\nquelque stratag\u00e8me, aussi bien pour les faire tomber par surprise dans\nquelque pi\u00e8ge, que pour les emp\u00eacher de faire une descente sur nous et\nde nous exterminer. Il me vint incontinent \u00e0 l\u2019esprit qu\u2019avant peu les\ngens du navire, voulant savoir ce qu\u2019\u00e9taient devenus leurs camarades\net la chaloupe, viendraient assur\u00e9ment \u00e0 terre dans leur autre\nembarcation pour les chercher, et qu\u2019ils se pr\u00e9senteraient peut-\u00eatre\narm\u00e9s et en force trop sup\u00e9rieure pour nous. Le capitaine trouva ceci\ntr\u00e8s plausible.\nL\u00e0-dessus je lui dis:\u2014\u00abLa premi\u00e8re chose que nous avons \u00e0 faire est\nde nous assurer de la chaloupe qui g\u00eet sur la gr\u00e8ve, de telle sorte\nqu\u2019ils ne puissent la ramener; d\u2019emporter tout ce qu\u2019elle contient\net de la d\u00e9semparer, si bien qu\u2019elle soit hors d\u2019\u00e9tat de voguer.\u00bb\nEn cons\u00e9quence, nous all\u00e2mes \u00e0 la barque, nous pr\u00eemes les armes\nqui \u00e9taient rest\u00e9es \u00e0 bord, et aussi tout ce que nous y trouv\u00e2mes,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire une bouteille d\u2019eau-de-vie et une autre de _rum_,\nquelques biscuits, une corne \u00e0 poudre et un \u00e9norme morceau de sucre\ndans une pi\u00e8ce de canevas; il y en avait bien cinq ou six livres. Tout\nceci fut le bienvenu pour moi, surtout l\u2019eau-de-vie et le sucre, dont\nje n\u2019avais pas go\u00fbt\u00e9 depuis tant d\u2019ann\u00e9es.\nQuand nous e\u00fbmes port\u00e9 toutes ces choses \u00e0 terre,\u2014les rames, le m\u00e2t,\nla voile et le gouvernail avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 enlev\u00e9s auparavant, comme je\nl\u2019ai dit,\u2014nous f\u00eemes un grand trou au fond de la chaloupe, afin que,\ns\u2019ils venaient en assez grand nombre pour nous vaincre, ils ne pussent\ntoutefois la remmener.\nA dire vrai, je ne me figurais gu\u00e8re que nous fussions capables\nde recouvrer le navire; mais j\u2019avais mon but. Dans le cas o\u00f9 ils\nrepartiraient sans la chaloupe, je ne doutais pas que je ne pusse\nla mettre en \u00e9tat de nous transporter aux Iles sous le Vent et de\nrecueillir en chemin nos amis les Espagnols; car ils \u00e9taient toujours\npr\u00e9sents \u00e0 ma pens\u00e9e.\nAyant \u00e0 l\u2019aide de nos forces r\u00e9unies tir\u00e9 la chaloupe si avant sur\nla gr\u00e8ve que la mar\u00e9e haute ne p\u00fbt l\u2019entra\u00eener, ayant fait en outre\nun trou dans le fond, trop grand pour \u00eatre promptement rebouch\u00e9,\nnous nous \u00e9tions assis pour songer \u00e0 ce que nous avions \u00e0 faire; et,\ntandis que nous concertions nos plans, nous entend\u00eemes tirer un coup\nde canon, puis nous v\u00eemes le navire faire avec son pavillon comme un\nsignal pour rappeler la chaloupe \u00e0 bord; mais la chaloupe ne bougea\npas, et il se remit de plus belle \u00e0 tirer et \u00e0 lui adresser des\nsignaux.\nA la fin, quand il s\u2019aper\u00e7ut que ses signaux et ses coups de canon\nn\u2019aboutissaient \u00e0 rien et que la chaloupe ne se montrait pas, nous\nle v\u00eemes,\u2014\u00e0 l\u2019aide de mes longues-vues,\u2014mettre \u00e0 la mer une autre\nembarcation qui nagea vers le rivage; et tandis qu\u2019elle s\u2019approchait,\nnous reconn\u00fbmes qu\u2019elle n\u2019\u00e9tait pas mont\u00e9e par moins de dix hommes,\nmunis d\u2019armes \u00e0 feu.\nComme le navire mouillait \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s \u00e0 deux lieues du rivage, nous\ne\u00fbmes tout le loisir, durant le trajet, d\u2019examiner l\u2019embarcation,\nses hommes d\u2019\u00e9quipage et m\u00eame leurs figures; parce que, la mar\u00e9e les\nayant fait d\u00e9river un peu \u00e0 l\u2019est de l\u2019autre chaloupe, ils long\u00e8rent\nle rivage pour venir \u00e0 la m\u00eame place o\u00f9 elle avait abord\u00e9 et o\u00f9 elle\n\u00e9tait gisante.\nDe cette fa\u00e7on, dis-je, nous e\u00fbmes tout le loisir de les examiner.\nLe capitaine connaissait la physionomie et le caract\u00e8re de tous les\nhommes qui se trouvaient dans l\u2019embarcation; il m\u2019assura qu\u2019il y avait\nparmi eux trois honn\u00eates gar\u00e7ons, qui, domin\u00e9s et effray\u00e9s, avaient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 assur\u00e9ment entra\u00een\u00e9s dans le complot par les autres.\nMais quant au ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage, qui semblait \u00eatre le principal\nofficier, et quant \u00e0 tout le reste, ils \u00e9taient aussi dangereux\nque qui que ce f\u00fbt du b\u00e2timent, et devaient sans aucun doute agir\nen d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s dans leur nouvelle entreprise. Enfin il redoutait\nv\u00e9h\u00e9mentement qu\u2019ils ne fussent trop forts pour nous.\nJe me pris \u00e0 sourire, et lui dis que des gens dans notre position\n\u00e9taient au-dessus de la crainte; que, puisque \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s toutes les\nconditions possibles \u00e9taient meilleures que celle o\u00f9 nous semblions\n\u00eatre, nous devions accueillir toute cons\u00e9quence r\u00e9sultante, soit vie\nou mort, comme un affranchissement. Je lui demandai ce qu\u2019il pensait\ndes circonstances de ma vie, et si ma d\u00e9livrance n\u2019\u00e9tait pas chose\ndigne d\u2019\u00eatre tent\u00e9e.\u2014\u00abEt qu\u2019est devenue, sir, continuai-je, votre\ncroyance que j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 conserv\u00e9 ici \u00e0 dessein de vous sauver la vie,\ncroyance qui vous avait exalt\u00e9 il y a peu de temps? Pour ma part, je\nne vois qu\u2019une chose malencontreuse dans toute cette affaire.\u00bb\u2014\u00abEt\nquelle est-elle?\u00bb dit-il.\u2014\u00abC\u2019est, r\u00e9pondis-je, qu\u2019il y a parmi ces\ngens, comme vous l\u2019avez dit, trois ou quatre honn\u00eates gar\u00e7ons qu\u2019il\nfaudrait \u00e9pargner. S\u2019ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tous le rebut de l\u2019\u00e9quipage,\nj\u2019aurais cru que la providence de Dieu les avait s\u00e9par\u00e9s pour les\nlivrer entre nos mains; car faites fond l\u00e0-dessus: tout homme qui\nmettra le pied sur le rivage sera n\u00f4tre, et vivra ou mourra suivant\nqu\u2019il agira envers nous.\u00bb\nCes paroles, prononc\u00e9es d\u2019une voix ferme et d\u2019un air enjou\u00e9, lui\nredonn\u00e8rent du courage, et nous nous m\u00eemes vigoureusement \u00e0 notre\nbesogne. D\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re apparence d\u2019une embarcation venant du navire,\nnous avions song\u00e9 \u00e0 \u00e9carter nos prisonniers, et, au fait, nous nous en\n\u00e9tions parfaitement assur\u00e9s.\nIl y en avait deux dont le capitaine \u00e9tait moins s\u00fbr que des autres:\nje les fis conduire par Vendredi et un des trois hommes d\u00e9livr\u00e9s \u00e0 ma\ncaverne, o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient assez \u00e9loign\u00e9s et hors de toute possibilit\u00e9\nd\u2019\u00eatre entendus ou d\u00e9couverts, ou de trouver leur chemin pour sortir\ndes bois s\u2019ils parvenaient \u00e0 se d\u00e9barrasser eux-m\u00eames. L\u00e0 ils les\nlaiss\u00e8rent garrott\u00e9s, mais ils leur donn\u00e8rent quelques provisions,\net leur promirent que, s\u2019ils y demeuraient tranquillement, on leur\nrendrait leur libert\u00e9 dans un jour ou deux; mais que, s\u2019ils tentaient\nde s\u2019\u00e9chapper, ils seraient mis \u00e0 mort sans mis\u00e9ricorde. Ils\nprotest\u00e8rent sinc\u00e8rement qu\u2019ils supporteraient leur emprisonnement\navec patience, et parurent tr\u00e8s reconnaissants de ce qu\u2019on les\ntraitait si bien, qu\u2019ils avaient des provisions et de la lumi\u00e8re; car\nVendredi leur avait donn\u00e9 pour leur bien-\u00eatre quelques-unes de ces\nchandelles que nous faisions nous-m\u00eames.\u2014Ils avaient la persuasion\nqu\u2019il se tiendrait en sentinelle \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e de la caverne.\nLes autres prisonniers \u00e9taient mieux trait\u00e9s: deux d\u2019entre eux, \u00e0 la\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, avaient les bras li\u00e9s, parce que le capitaine n\u2019osait pas trop\ns\u2019y fier; mais les deux autres avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 pris \u00e0 mon service, sur la\nrecommandation du capitaine et sur leur promesse solennelle de vivre\net de mourir avec nous. Ainsi, y compris ceux-ci et les trois braves\ngar\u00e7ons, nous \u00e9tions sept hommes bien arm\u00e9s; et je ne mettais pas en\ndoute que nous ne pussions venir \u00e0 bout des dix arrivants, consid\u00e9rant\nsurtout ce que le capitaine avait dit qu\u2019il y avait trois ou quatre\nhonn\u00eates hommes parmi eux.\nAussit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils atteignirent l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 gisait leur autre\nembarcation, ils pouss\u00e8rent la leur sur la gr\u00e8ve et mirent pied \u00e0\nterre en la halant apr\u00e8s eux; ce qui me fit grand plaisir \u00e0 voir: car\nj\u2019avais craint qu\u2019ils ne la laissassent \u00e0 l\u2019ancre, \u00e0 quelque distance\ndu rivage, avec du monde dedans pour la garder, et qu\u2019ainsi il nous\nf\u00fbt impossible de nous en emparer.\nUne fois \u00e0 terre, la premi\u00e8re chose qu\u2019ils firent, ce fut de courir\ntous \u00e0 l\u2019autre embarcation; et il fut ais\u00e9 de voir qu\u2019ils tomb\u00e8rent\ndans une grande surprise en la trouvant d\u00e9pouill\u00e9e,\u2014comme il a \u00e9t\u00e9\ndit,\u2014de tout ce qui s\u2019y trouvait et avec un grand trou dans le fond.\nApr\u00e8s avoir pendant quelque temps r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi sur cela, ils pouss\u00e8rent de\ntoutes leurs forces deux ou trois grands cris pour essayer s\u2019ils ne\npourraient point se faire entendre de leurs compagnons; mais c\u2019\u00e9tait\npeine inutile. Alors ils se serr\u00e8rent tous en cercle et firent une\nsalve de mousqueterie; nous l\u2019entend\u00eemes, il est vrai: les \u00e9chos\nen firent retentir les bois, mais ce fut tout. Les prisonniers qui\n\u00e9taient dans la caverne, nous en \u00e9tions s\u00fbrs, ne pouvaient entendre,\net ceux en notre garde, quoiqu\u2019ils entendissent tr\u00e8s bien, n\u2019avaient\npas toutefois la hardiesse de r\u00e9pondre.\nIls furent si \u00e9tonn\u00e9s et si atterr\u00e9s de ce silence, qu\u2019ils r\u00e9solurent,\ncomme ils nous le dirent plus tard, de se rembarquer pour retourner\nvers le navire, et de raconter que leurs camarades avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nmassacr\u00e9s et leur chaloupe d\u00e9fonc\u00e9e. En cons\u00e9quence ils lanc\u00e8rent\nimm\u00e9diatement leur esquif et remont\u00e8rent tous \u00e0 bord.\nA cette vue, le capitaine fut terriblement surpris et m\u00eame stup\u00e9fi\u00e9;\nil pensait qu\u2019ils allaient rejoindre le navire et mettre \u00e0 la voile,\nregardant leurs compagnons comme perdus, et qu\u2019ainsi il lui fallait\nd\u00e9cid\u00e9ment perdre son navire, qu\u2019il avait eu l\u2019esp\u00e9rance de recouvrer.\nMais il eut bient\u00f4t une tout autre raison de se d\u00e9concerter.\nA peine s\u2019\u00e9taient-ils \u00e9loign\u00e9s que nous les v\u00eemes revenir au rivage,\nmais en suivant une conduite toute nouvelle, sur laquelle sans doute\nils avaient d\u00e9lib\u00e9r\u00e9, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire qu\u2019ils laiss\u00e8rent trois hommes dans\nl\u2019embarcation, et que les autres descendirent \u00e0 terre et s\u2019enfonc\u00e8rent\ndans le pays pour chercher leurs compagnons.\nCe fut un grand d\u00e9sappointement pour nous, et nous en \u00e9tions \u00e0 ne\nsavoir que faire; car nous saisir des sept hommes qui se trouvaient\n\u00e0 terre ne serait d\u2019aucun avantage si nous laissions \u00e9chapper le\nbateau, parce qu\u2019il regagnerait le navire, et qu\u2019alors \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr le\nreste de l\u2019\u00e9quipage l\u00e8verait l\u2019ancre et mettrait \u00e0 la voile, de sorte\nque nous perdrions le b\u00e2timent sans retour.\nCependant il n\u2019y avait d\u2019autre rem\u00e8de que d\u2019attendre et de voir ce\nqu\u2019offrirait l\u2019issue des choses.\u2014Apr\u00e8s que les sept hommes furent\ndescendus \u00e0 terre, les trois hommes rest\u00e9s dans l\u2019esquif remont\u00e8rent \u00e0\nune bonne distance du rivage, et mirent \u00e0 l\u2019ancre pour les attendre.\nAinsi il nous \u00e9tait impossible de parvenir jusqu\u2019\u00e0 eux.\nCeux qui avaient mis pied \u00e0 terre se tenaient serr\u00e9s tous ensemble et\nmarchaient vers le sommet de la petite \u00e9minence au-dessous de laquelle\n\u00e9tait situ\u00e9e mon habitation, et nous les pouvions voir parfaitement\nsans en \u00eatre aper\u00e7us. Nous aurions \u00e9t\u00e9 enchant\u00e9s qu\u2019ils vinssent plus\npr\u00e8s de nous, afin de faire feu dessus, ou bien qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9loignassent\ndavantage pour que nous pussions nous-m\u00eames nous d\u00e9busquer.\nQuand ils furent parvenus sur le versant de la colline d\u2019o\u00f9 ils\npouvaient planer au loin sur les vall\u00e9es et les bois qui s\u2019\u00e9tendaient\nau nord-ouest, dans la partie la plus basse de l\u2019\u00eele, ils se mirent\n\u00e0 appeler et \u00e0 crier jusqu\u2019\u00e0 n\u2019en pouvoir plus. L\u00e0, n\u2019osant pas sans\ndoute s\u2019aventurer loin du rivage, ni s\u2019\u00e9loigner l\u2019un de l\u2019autre,\nils s\u2019assirent tous ensemble sous un arbre pour d\u00e9lib\u00e9rer. S\u2019ils\navaient trouv\u00e9 bon d\u2019aller l\u00e0 pour s\u2019y endormir, comme avait fait\nla premi\u00e8re bande, c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 notre affaire; mais ils \u00e9taient trop\nremplis de l\u2019appr\u00e9hension du danger pour s\u2019abandonner au sommeil, bien\nqu\u2019assur\u00e9ment ils ne pussent se rendre compte de l\u2019esp\u00e8ce de p\u00e9ril\nqu\u2019ils avaient \u00e0 craindre.\nLe capitaine fit une ouverture fort sage au sujet de leur\nd\u00e9lib\u00e9ration.\u2014\u00abIls vont peut-\u00eatre, disait-il, faire une nouvelle salve\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale pour t\u00e2cher de se faire entendre de leurs compagnons; fondons\ntous sur eux juste au moment o\u00f9 leurs mousquets seront d\u00e9charg\u00e9s; \u00e0\ncoup s\u00fbr ils demanderont quartier, et nous nous en rendrons ma\u00eetres\nsans effusion de sang.\u00bb\u2014J\u2019approuvai cette proposition, pourvu qu\u2019elle\nf\u00fbt ex\u00e9cut\u00e9e lorsque nous serions assez pr\u00e8s d\u2019eux pour les assaillir\navant qu\u2019ils eussent pu recharger leurs armes.\nMais le cas pr\u00e9vu n\u2019advint pas, et nous demeur\u00e2mes encore longtemps\nfort irr\u00e9solus sur le parti \u00e0 prendre. Enfin je dis \u00e0 mon monde\nque mon opinion \u00e9tait qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait rien \u00e0 faire avant la nuit;\nqu\u2019alors, s\u2019ils n\u2019\u00e9taient pas retourn\u00e9s \u00e0 leur embarcation, nous\npourrions peut-\u00eatre trouver moyen de nous jeter entre eux et le\nrivage, et quelque stratag\u00e8me pour attirer \u00e0 terre ceux rest\u00e9s dans\nl\u2019esquif.\nNous avions attendu fort longtemps, quoique tr\u00e8s impatients de\nles voir s\u2019\u00e9loigner et fort mal \u00e0 notre aise, quand, apr\u00e8s\nd\u2019interminables consultations, nous les v\u00eemes tous se lever et\ndescendre vers la mer. Il para\u00eet que de si terribles appr\u00e9hensions\ndu danger de cette place pesaient sur eux, qu\u2019ils avaient r\u00e9solu de\nregagner le navire, pour annoncer \u00e0 bord la perte de leurs compagnons,\net poursuivre leur voyage projet\u00e9.\nSit\u00f4t que je les aper\u00e7us se diriger vers le rivage, j\u2019imaginai,\u2014et\ncela \u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement,\u2014qu\u2019ils renon\u00e7aient \u00e0 leurs recherches et se\nd\u00e9cidaient \u00e0 s\u2019en retourner. A cette seule appr\u00e9hension le capitaine,\n\u00e0 qui j\u2019avais communiqu\u00e9 cette pens\u00e9e, fut pr\u00e8s de tomber en\nd\u00e9faillance; mais, sur-le-champ, pour les faire revenir sur leurs pas,\nje m\u2019avisai d\u2019un stratag\u00e8me qui r\u00e9pondit compl\u00e8tement \u00e0 mon but.\nJ\u2019ordonnai \u00e0 Vendredi et au second du capitaine d\u2019aller de l\u2019autre\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 de la crique \u00e0 l\u2019ouest, vers l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 \u00e9taient parvenus les\nsauvages lorsque je sauvai Vendredi; sit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils seraient arriv\u00e9s \u00e0\nune petite butte distante d\u2019un demi-mille environ, je leur recommandai\nde crier aussi fort qu\u2019ils pourraient et d\u2019attendre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que\nles matelots les eussent entendus; puis, d\u00e8s que les matelots leur\nauraient r\u00e9pondu, de rebrousser chemin, et alors, se tenant hors de\nvue, r\u00e9pondant toujours quand les autres appelleraient, de prendre un\nd\u00e9tour pour les attirer au milieu des bois, aussi avant dans l\u2019\u00eele que\npossible; puis enfin de revenir vers moi par certaines routes que je\nleur indiquai.\nIls \u00e9taient justement sur le point d\u2019entrer dans la chaloupe, quand\nVendredi et le second se mirent \u00e0 crier. Ils les entendirent aussit\u00f4t,\net leur r\u00e9pondirent tout en courant le long du rivage \u00e0 l\u2019ouest,\ndu c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la voix qu\u2019ils avaient entendue; mais tout \u00e0 coup ils\nfurent arr\u00eat\u00e9s par la crique. Les eaux \u00e9tant hautes, ils ne pouvaient\ntraverser, et firent venir la chaloupe pour les passer sur l\u2019autre\nbord, comme je l\u2019avais pr\u00e9vu.\nQuand ils eurent travers\u00e9, je remarquai que, la chaloupe ayant \u00e9t\u00e9\nconduite assez avant dans la crique, et pour ainsi dire dans un port,\nils prirent avec eux un des trois hommes qui la montaient, et n\u2019en\nlaiss\u00e8rent seulement que deux, apr\u00e8s l\u2019avoir amarr\u00e9e au tronc d\u2019un\npetit arbre sur le rivage.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 ce que je souhaitais. Laissant Vendredi et le second du\ncapitaine \u00e0 leur besogne, j\u2019emmenai sur-le-champ les autres avec moi,\net, me rendant en tapinois au del\u00e0 de la crique, nous surpr\u00eemes les\ndeux matelots avant qu\u2019ils fussent sur leurs gardes, l\u2019un couch\u00e9 sur\nle rivage, l\u2019autre dans la chaloupe. Celui qui se trouvait \u00e0 terre\nflottait entre le sommeil et le r\u00e9veil; et, comme il allait se lever,\nle capitaine, qui \u00e9tait le plus avanc\u00e9, courut sur lui, l\u2019assomma, et\ncria \u00e0 l\u2019autre, qui \u00e9tait dans l\u2019esquif:\u2014\u00abRends-toi ou tu es mort.\u00bb\nIl ne fallait pas beaucoup d\u2019arguments pour soumettre un seul homme,\nqui voyait cinq hommes contre lui et son camarade \u00e9tendu mort.\nD\u2019ailleurs c\u2019\u00e9tait, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, un des trois matelots qui\navaient pris moins de part \u00e0 la mutinerie que le reste de l\u2019\u00e9quipage.\nAussi non seulement il se d\u00e9cida facilement \u00e0 se rendre, mais dans la\nsuite il se joignit sinc\u00e8rement \u00e0 nous.\nDans ces entrefaites Vendredi et le second du capitaine gouvern\u00e8rent\nsi bien leur affaire avec les autres mutins, qu\u2019en criant et\nr\u00e9pondant, ils les entra\u00een\u00e8rent d\u2019une colline \u00e0 une autre, et d\u2019un\nbois \u00e0 un autre, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils les eussent horriblement fatigu\u00e9s,\net ils ne les laiss\u00e8rent que lorsqu\u2019ils furent certains qu\u2019ils ne\npourraient regagner la chaloupe avant la nuit. Ils \u00e9taient eux-m\u00eames\nharass\u00e9s quand ils revinrent aupr\u00e8s de nous.\nIl ne nous restait alors rien autre \u00e0 faire qu\u2019\u00e0 les \u00e9pier dans\nl\u2019obscurit\u00e9, pour fondre sur eux et en avoir bon march\u00e9.\nCe ne fut que plusieurs heures apr\u00e8s le retour de Vendredi qu\u2019ils\narriv\u00e8rent \u00e0 leur chaloupe; mais longtemps auparavant nous p\u00fbmes\nentendre les plus avanc\u00e9s crier aux tra\u00eeneurs de se h\u00e2ter, et ceux-ci\nr\u00e9pondre et se plaindre qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient las et \u00e9clop\u00e9s et ne pouvaient\nmarcher plus vite: fort heureuse nouvelle pour nous.\nEnfin ils atteignirent la chaloupe.\u2014Il serait impossible de d\u00e9crire\nquelle fut leur stup\u00e9faction quand ils virent qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait ensabl\u00e9e\ndans la crique, que la mar\u00e9e s\u2019\u00e9tait retir\u00e9e et que leurs deux\ncompagnons avaient disparu. Nous les entendions s\u2019appeler l\u2019un l\u2019autre\nde la fa\u00e7on la plus lamentable, et se dire entre eux qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient\ndans une \u00eele ensorcel\u00e9e; que, si elle \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e par des hommes,\nils seraient tous massacr\u00e9s; que si elle l\u2019\u00e9tait par des d\u00e9mons ou des\nesprits, ils seraient tous enlev\u00e9s et d\u00e9vor\u00e9s.\nIls se mirent \u00e0 crier de nouveau, et appel\u00e8rent un grand nombre de\nfois leurs deux camarades par leurs noms; mais point de r\u00e9ponse. Un\nmoment apr\u00e8s nous pouvions les voir, \u00e0 la faveur du peu de jour qui\nrestait, courir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 en se tordant les mains comme des hommes au\nd\u00e9sespoir. Tant\u00f4t ils allaient s\u2019asseoir dans la chaloupe pour se\nreposer, tant\u00f4t ils en sortaient pour r\u00f4der de nouveau sur le rivage,\net pendant assez longtemps dura ce man\u00e8ge.\nMes gens auraient bien d\u00e9sir\u00e9 que je leur permisse de tomber\nbrusquement sur eux dans l\u2019obscurit\u00e9; mais je ne voulais les assaillir\nqu\u2019avec avantage, afin de les \u00e9pargner et d\u2019en tuer le moins que\nje pourrais. Je voulais surtout n\u2019exposer aucun de mes hommes \u00e0 la\nmort, car je savais l\u2019ennemi bien arm\u00e9. Je r\u00e9solus donc d\u2019attendre\npour voir s\u2019ils ne se s\u00e9pareraient point; et, \u00e0 dessein de m\u2019assurer\nd\u2019eux, je portai en avant mon embuscade, et j\u2019ordonnai \u00e0 Vendredi et\nau capitaine de s\u2019avancer en rampant, aussi \u00e0 plat ventre qu\u2019il leur\nserait possible, pour ne pas \u00eatre d\u00e9couverts, et de s\u2019approcher d\u2019eux\nle plus qu\u2019ils pourraient avant de faire feu.\nIl n\u2019y avait pas longtemps qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient dans cette posture quand le\nma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le principal meneur de la r\u00e9volte, et\nqui se montrait alors le plus l\u00e2che et le plus abattu de tous, tourna\nses pas de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, avec deux autres de la bande. Le capitaine\n\u00e9tait tellement anim\u00e9 en sentant ce principal vaurien si bien en son\npouvoir, qu\u2019il avait \u00e0 peine la patience de le laisser assez approcher\npour le frapper \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr; car jusque-l\u00e0 il n\u2019avait qu\u2019entendu sa\nvoix; et d\u00e8s qu\u2019ils furent \u00e0 sa port\u00e9e, se dressant subitement sur ses\npieds, ainsi que Vendredi, ils firent feu dessus.\nLe ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage fut tu\u00e9 sur la place; un autre fut atteint au\ncorps et tomba pr\u00e8s de lui, mais il n\u2019expira qu\u2019une ou deux heures\napr\u00e8s; le troisi\u00e8me prit la fuite.\nA cette d\u00e9tonation, je m\u2019approchai imm\u00e9diatement avec toute mon arm\u00e9e,\nqui \u00e9tait alors de huit hommes, savoir: moi, g\u00e9n\u00e9ralissime; Vendredi,\nmon lieutenant g\u00e9n\u00e9ral; le capitaine et ses deux compagnons, et les\ntrois prisonniers de guerre auxquels il avait confi\u00e9 des armes.\nNous nous avan\u00e7\u00e2mes sur eux dans l\u2019obscurit\u00e9, de sorte qu\u2019on ne\npouvait juger de notre nombre.\u2014J\u2019ordonnai au matelot qu\u2019ils avaient\nlaiss\u00e9 dans la chaloupe, et qui \u00e9tait alors un des n\u00f4tres, de les\nappeler par leurs noms, afin d\u2019essayer si je pourrais les amener \u00e0\nparlementer, et par l\u00e0 peut-\u00eatre \u00e0 des termes d\u2019accommodement;\u2014ce qui\nnous r\u00e9ussit \u00e0 souhait;\u2014car il \u00e9tait en effet naturel de croire que,\ndans l\u2019\u00e9tat o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient alors, ils capituleraient tr\u00e8s volontiers.\nCe matelot se mit donc \u00e0 crier de toute sa force \u00e0 l\u2019un d\u2019entre\neux:\u2014\u00abTom Smith! Tom Smith!\u00bb\u2014Tom Smith r\u00e9pondit aussit\u00f4t:\u2014\u00abEst-ce\ntoi, Robinson?\u00bb\u2014Car il para\u00eet qu\u2019il avait reconnu sa voix.\u2014\u00abOui, oui,\nreprit l\u2019autre. Au nom de Dieu, Tom Smith, mettez bas les armes et\nrendez-vous, sans quoi vous \u00eates tous morts \u00e0 l\u2019instant.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abA qui faut-il nous rendre? r\u00e9pliqua Smith; o\u00f9 sont-ils?\u00bb\u2014\u00abIls sont\nici, dit Robinson: c\u2019est notre capitaine avec cinquante hommes qui\nvous pourchassent depuis deux heures. Le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage est tu\u00e9,\nWill Frye bless\u00e9, et moi je suis prisonnier. Si vous ne vous rendez\npas, vous \u00eates tous perdus.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abNous donnera-t-on quartier, dit Tom Smith, si nous nous\nrendons?\u00bb\u2014\u00abJe vais le demander, si vous promettez de vous rendre,\u00bb\nr\u00e9pondit Robinson.\u2014Il s\u2019adressa donc au capitaine, et le capitaine\nlui-m\u00eame se mit alors \u00e0 crier:\u2014\u00abToi, Smith, tu connais ma voix; si\nvous d\u00e9posez imm\u00e9diatement les armes et vous soumettez, vous aurez\ntous la vie sauve, hormis Will Atkins.\u00bb\nSur ce, Will Atkins s\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abAu nom de Dieu! capitaine, donnez-moi\nquartier! Qu\u2019ai-je fait? Ils sont tous aussi coupables que moi.\u00bb\u2014Ce\nqui, au fait, n\u2019\u00e9tait pas vrai; car il para\u00eet que ce Will Atkins\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 le premier \u00e0 se saisir du capitaine au commencement de la\nr\u00e9volte, et qu\u2019il l\u2019avait cruellement maltrait\u00e9 en lui liant les\nmains et l\u2019accablant d\u2019injures. Quoi qu\u2019il en f\u00fbt, le capitaine le\nsomma de se rendre \u00e0 discr\u00e9tion et de se confier \u00e0 la mis\u00e9ricorde du\ngouverneur: c\u2019est moi dont il entendait parler, car ils m\u2019appelaient\ntous gouverneur.\nBref, ils d\u00e9pos\u00e8rent tous les armes et demand\u00e8rent la vie; et\nj\u2019envoyai pour les garrotter l\u2019homme qui avait parlement\u00e9 avec deux de\nses compagnons. Alors ma grande arm\u00e9e de cinquante hommes, laquelle, y\ncompris les trois en d\u00e9tachement, se composait en tout de huit hommes,\ns\u2019avan\u00e7a et fit main basse sur eux et leur chaloupe. Mais je me tins\navec un des miens hors de leur vue, pour des raisons d\u2019\u00c9tat.\nNotre premier soin fut de r\u00e9parer la chaloupe et de songer \u00e0 recouvrer\nle vaisseau. Quant au capitaine, il eut alors le loisir de pourparler\navec ses prisonniers. Il leur reprocha l\u2019infamie de leurs proc\u00e9d\u00e9s \u00e0\nson \u00e9gard, et l\u2019atrocit\u00e9 de leur projet, qui, assur\u00e9ment, les aurait\nconduits enfin \u00e0 la mis\u00e8re et \u00e0 l\u2019opprobre, et peut-\u00eatre \u00e0 la potence.\nIls parurent tous fort repentants, et implor\u00e8rent la vie. Il leur\nr\u00e9pondit l\u00e0-dessus qu\u2019ils n\u2019\u00e9taient pas ses prisonniers, mais ceux du\ngouverneur de l\u2019\u00eele; qu\u2019ils avaient cru le jeter sur le rivage d\u2019une\n\u00eele st\u00e9rile et d\u00e9serte, mais qu\u2019il avait plu \u00e0 Dieu de les diriger\nvers une \u00eele habit\u00e9e, dont le gouverneur \u00e9tait Anglais, et pouvait les\ny faire pendre tous, si tel \u00e9tait son plaisir; mais que, comme il leur\navait donn\u00e9 quartier, il supposait qu\u2019il les enverrait en Angleterre\npour y \u00eatre trait\u00e9s comme la justice le requ\u00e9rait, hormis Atkins, \u00e0\nqui le gouverneur lui avait enjoint de dire de se pr\u00e9parer \u00e0 la mort,\ncar il serait pendu le lendemain matin.\nQuoique tout ceci ne f\u00fbt qu\u2019une fiction de sa part, elle produisit\ncependant tout l\u2019effet d\u00e9sir\u00e9. Atkins se jeta \u00e0 genoux et supplia le\ncapitaine d\u2019interc\u00e9der pour lui aupr\u00e8s du gouverneur, et tous les\nautres le conjur\u00e8rent au nom de Dieu, afin de n\u2019\u00eatre point envoy\u00e9s en\nAngleterre.\nIl me vint alors \u00e0 l\u2019esprit que le moment de notre d\u00e9livrance \u00e9tait\nvenu, et que ce serait une chose tr\u00e8s facile que d\u2019amener ces gens \u00e0\ns\u2019employer de tout c\u0153ur \u00e0 recouvrer le vaisseau. Je m\u2019\u00e9loignai donc\ndans l\u2019ombre pour qu\u2019ils ne pussent voir quelle sorte de gouverneur\nils avaient, et j\u2019appelai \u00e0 moi le capitaine. Quand j\u2019appelai, comme\nsi j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 une bonne distance, un de mes hommes re\u00e7ut l\u2019ordre de\nparler \u00e0 son tour, et il dit au capitaine:\u2014\u00abCapitaine, le commandant\nvous appelle.\u00bb\u2014Le capitaine r\u00e9pondit aussit\u00f4t:\u2014\u00abDites \u00e0 Son Excellence\nque je viens \u00e0 l\u2019instant.\u00bb\u2014Ceci les trompa encore parfaitement, et\nils crurent tous que le gouverneur \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0 avec ses cinquante\nhommes.\nQuand le capitaine vint \u00e0 moi, je lui communiquai mon projet pour la\nprise du vaisseau. Il le trouva parfait, et r\u00e9solut de le mettre \u00e0\nex\u00e9cution le lendemain.\nMais, pour l\u2019ex\u00e9cuter avec plus d\u2019artifice et en assurer le succ\u00e8s,\nje lui dis qu\u2019il fallait que nous s\u00e9parassions les prisonniers, et\nqu\u2019il pr\u00eet Atkins et deux autres d\u2019entre les plus mauvais, pour les\nenvoyer, bras li\u00e9s, \u00e0 la caverne o\u00f9 \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 les autres. Ce soin\nfut remis \u00e0 Vendredi et aux deux hommes qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s avec\nle capitaine.\nIls les emmen\u00e8rent \u00e0 la caverne comme \u00e0 une prison; et c\u2019\u00e9tait au fait\nun horrible lieu, surtout pour des hommes dans leur position.\nIl fit conduire les autres \u00e0 ma tonnelle, comme je l\u2019appelais, et dont\nj\u2019ai donn\u00e9 une description compl\u00e8te. Comme elle \u00e9tait enclose, et\nqu\u2019ils avaient les bras li\u00e9s, la place \u00e9tait s\u00fbre, attendu que de leur\nconduite d\u00e9pendait leur sort.\nA ceux-ci dans la matin\u00e9e j\u2019envoyai le capitaine pour entrer en\npourparlers avec eux; en un mot, les \u00e9prouver et me dire s\u2019il pensait\nqu\u2019on p\u00fbt ou non se fier \u00e0 eux pour aller \u00e0 bord et surprendre le\nnavire. Il leur parla de l\u2019outrage qu\u2019ils lui avaient fait, de la\ncondition dans laquelle ils \u00e9taient tomb\u00e9s, et leur dit que, bien\nque le gouverneur leur e\u00fbt donn\u00e9 quartier actuellement, ils seraient\n\u00e0 coup s\u00fbr mis au gibet si on les envoyait en Angleterre; mais que\ns\u2019ils voulaient s\u2019associer \u00e0 une entreprise aussi loyale que celle de\nrecouvrer le vaisseau, il aurait du gouverneur la promesse de leur\ngr\u00e2ce.\nOn devine avec quelle h\u00e2te une semblable proposition fut accept\u00e9e par\ndes hommes dans leur situation. Ils tomb\u00e8rent aux genoux du capitaine,\net promirent avec les plus \u00e9nergiques impr\u00e9cations qu\u2019ils lui seraient\nfid\u00e8les jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re goutte de leur sang; que, lui devant la\nvie, ils le suivraient en tous lieux, et qu\u2019ils le regarderaient comme\nleur p\u00e8re tant qu\u2019ils vivraient.\n\u2014\u00abBien, reprit le capitaine; je m\u2019en vais reporter au gouverneur ce\nque vous m\u2019avez dit, et voir ce que je puis faire pour l\u2019amener \u00e0\ndonner son consentement.\u00bb\u2014Il vint donc me rendre compte de l\u2019\u00e9tat\nd\u2019esprit dans lequel il les avait trouv\u00e9s, et m\u2019affirma qu\u2019il croyait\nvraiment qu\u2019ils seraient fid\u00e8les.\nN\u00e9anmoins, pour plus de s\u00fbret\u00e9, je le priai de retourner vers eux,\nd\u2019en choisir cinq et de leur dire, pour leur donner \u00e0 penser qu\u2019on\nn\u2019avait pas besoin d\u2019hommes, qu\u2019il n\u2019en prenait que cinq pour\nl\u2019aider, et que les deux autres et les trois qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 envoy\u00e9s\nprisonniers au ch\u00e2teau,\u2014ma caverne,\u2014le gouverneur voulait les garder\ncomme otages, pour r\u00e9pondre de la fid\u00e9lit\u00e9 de ces cinq; et que, s\u2019ils\nse montraient perfides dans l\u2019ex\u00e9cution, les cinq otages seraient tout\nvifs accroch\u00e9s \u00e0 un gibet sur le rivage.\nCeci parut s\u00e9v\u00e8re, et les convainquit que c\u2019\u00e9tait chose s\u00e9rieuse\nque le gouverneur. Toutefois, ils ne pouvaient qu\u2019accepter, et ce\nfut alors autant l\u2019affaire des prisonniers que celle du capitaine\nd\u2019engager les cinq autres \u00e0 faire leur devoir.\nVoici quel \u00e9tait l\u2019\u00e9tat de nos forces pour l\u2019exp\u00e9dition: 1^o le\ncapitaine, son second et le passager; 2^o les deux prisonniers de la\npremi\u00e8re escouade, auxquels, sur les renseignements du capitaine,\nj\u2019avais donn\u00e9 la libert\u00e9 et confi\u00e9 des armes; 3^o les deux autres, que\nj\u2019avais tenus jusqu\u2019alors garrott\u00e9s dans ma tonnelle, et que je venais\nde rel\u00e2cher, \u00e0 la sollicitation du capitaine; 4^o les cinq \u00e9largis\nen dernier: ils \u00e9taient donc douze en tout, outre les cinq que nous\ntenions prisonniers dans la caverne comme otages.\nJe demandai au capitaine s\u2019il voulait avec ce monde risquer l\u2019abordage\ndu navire. Quant \u00e0 moi et mon serviteur Vendredi, je ne pensai pas\nqu\u2019il f\u00fbt convenable que nous nous \u00e9loignassions, ayant derri\u00e8re nous\nsept hommes captifs. C\u2019\u00e9tait bien assez de besogne pour nous que de\nles garder \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9cart, et de les fournir de vivres.\nQuant aux cinq de la caverne, je r\u00e9solus de les tenir s\u00e9questr\u00e9s; mais\nVendredi allait deux fois par jour pour leur donner le n\u00e9cessaire.\nJ\u2019employais les deux autres \u00e0 porter les provisions \u00e0 une certaine\ndistance, o\u00f9 Vendredi devait les prendre.\nLorsque je me montrai aux deux premiers otages, ce fut avec le\ncapitaine, qui leur dit que j\u2019\u00e9tais la personne que le gouverneur\navait d\u00e9sign\u00e9e pour veiller sur eux; que le bon plaisir du gouverneur\n\u00e9tait qu\u2019ils n\u2019allassent nulle part sans mon autorisation; et que,\ns\u2019ils le faisaient, ils seraient transf\u00e9r\u00e9s au ch\u00e2teau et mis aux\nfers. Ne leur ayant jamais permis de me voir comme gouverneur,\nje jouais donc pour lors un autre personnage, et leur parlais du\ngouverneur, de la garnison, du ch\u00e2teau et autres choses semblables, en\ntoute occasion.\nLe capitaine n\u2019avait plus d\u2019autre difficult\u00e9 \u00e0 surmonter que celle\nde gr\u00e9er les deux chaloupes, de reboucher celle d\u00e9fonc\u00e9e, et de les\n\u00e9quiper. Il fit son passager capitaine de l\u2019une avec quatre hommes,\net lui-m\u00eame, son second et cinq matelots mont\u00e8rent dans l\u2019autre. Ils\nconcert\u00e8rent tr\u00e8s bien leurs plans, car ils arriv\u00e8rent au navire\nvers le milieu de la nuit. Aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils en furent \u00e0 port\u00e9e de\nla voix, le capitaine ordonna \u00e0 Robinson de h\u00e9ler et de leur dire\nqu\u2019ils ramenaient les hommes et la chaloupe, mais qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nbien longtemps avant de les trouver, et autres choses semblables. Il\nconversa avec eux jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils eussent accost\u00e9 le vaisseau. Alors\nle capitaine et son second, avec leurs armes, s\u2019\u00e9lan\u00e7ant les premiers\n\u00e0 bord, assomm\u00e8rent sur-le-champ, \u00e0 coups de crosse de mousquet, le\nbosseman et le charpentier; et, fid\u00e8lement second\u00e9s par leur monde,\nils s\u2019assuraient de tous ceux qui \u00e9taient sur le pont et le gaillard\nd\u2019arri\u00e8re, et commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 fermer les \u00e9coutilles pour emp\u00eacher de\nmonter ceux qui \u00e9taient en bas, quand les gens de l\u2019autre embarcation,\nabordant par les porte-haubans de misaine, s\u2019empar\u00e8rent du gaillard\nd\u2019avant et de l\u2019\u00e9coutillon qui descendait \u00e0 la cuisine, o\u00f9 trois\nhommes qui s\u2019y trouvaient furent faits prisonniers.\n[Illustration: Le capitaine ordonna \u00e0 Robinson de h\u00e9ler...]\nCeci fait, et tout \u00e9tant en s\u00fbret\u00e9 sur le pont, le capitaine ordonna \u00e0\nson second de forcer avec trois hommes la chambre du conseil, o\u00f9 \u00e9tait\npost\u00e9 le nouveau capitaine rebelle, qui, ayant eu quelque alerte,\n\u00e9tait mont\u00e9 et avait pris les armes avec deux matelots et un mousse.\nQuand le second eut effondr\u00e9 la porte avec une pince, le nouveau\ncapitaine et ses hommes firent hardiment feu sur eux. Une balle\nde mousquet atteignit le second et lui cassa le bras, deux autres\nmatelots furent aussi bless\u00e9s, mais personne ne fut tu\u00e9.\nLe second, appelant \u00e0 son aide, se pr\u00e9cipita cependant, tout bless\u00e9\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait, dans la chambre du conseil, et d\u00e9chargea son pistolet\n\u00e0 travers la t\u00eate du nouveau capitaine. Les balles entr\u00e8rent par la\nbouche, ressortirent derri\u00e8re l\u2019oreille et le firent taire \u00e0 jamais.\nL\u00e0-dessus le reste se rendit, et le navire fut r\u00e9ellement repris sans\nqu\u2019aucun autre perd\u00eet la vie.\n[Illustration: Le second d\u00e9chargea son pistolet \u00e0 travers la t\u00eate du\nnouveau capitaine.]\nAussit\u00f4t que le b\u00e2timent fut ainsi recouvr\u00e9, le capitaine ordonna de\ntirer sept coups de canon, signal dont il \u00e9tait convenu avec moi pour\nme donner avis de son succ\u00e8s. Je vous laisse \u00e0 penser si je fus aise\nde les entendre, ayant veill\u00e9 tout expr\u00e8s sur le rivage jusqu\u2019\u00e0 pr\u00e8s\nde deux heures du matin.\nApr\u00e8s avoir parfaitement entendu le signal, je me couchai; et,\ncomme cette journ\u00e9e avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pour moi tr\u00e8s fatigante, je dormis\nprofond\u00e9ment jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je fusse r\u00e9veill\u00e9 en sursaut par un\ncoup de canon. Je me levai sur-le-champ, et j\u2019entendis quelqu\u2019un\nm\u2019appeler:\u2014\u00abGouverneur, gouverneur!\u00bb\u2014Je reconnus de suite la voix du\ncapitaine, et je grimpai sur le haut du rocher, o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait mont\u00e9.\nIl me re\u00e7ut dans ses bras, et me montrant du doigt le b\u00e2timent:\u2014\u00abMon\ncher ami et lib\u00e9rateur, me dit-il, voil\u00e0 votre navire; car il est tout\n\u00e0 vous, ainsi que nous et tout ce qui lui appartient.\u00bb Je jetai les\nyeux sur le vaisseau. Il \u00e9tait mouill\u00e9 \u00e0 un peu plus d\u2019un demi-mille\ndu rivage; car ils avaient appareill\u00e9 d\u00e8s qu\u2019ils en avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nma\u00eetres; et, comme il faisait beau, ils \u00e9taient venus jeter l\u2019ancre \u00e0\nl\u2019embouchure de la petite crique; puis, \u00e0 la faveur de la mar\u00e9e haute,\nle capitaine amenant la pinasse pr\u00e8s de l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 j\u2019avais autrefois\nabord\u00e9 avec mes radeaux, il avait d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 juste \u00e0 ma porte.\nJe fus d\u2019abord sur le point de m\u2019\u00e9vanouir de surprise; car je voyais\npositivement ma d\u00e9livrance dans mes mains, toutes choses faciles, et\nun grand b\u00e2timent pr\u00eat \u00e0 me transporter s\u2019il me plaisait de partir.\nPendant quelque temps je fus incapable de r\u00e9pondre un seul mot; mais,\ncomme le capitaine m\u2019avait pris dans ses bras, je m\u2019appuyai fortement\nsur lui, sans quoi je serais tomb\u00e9 par terre.\nIl s\u2019aper\u00e7ut de ma d\u00e9faillance, et, tirant vite une bouteille de\nsa poche, me fit boire un trait d\u2019une liqueur cordiale qu\u2019il avait\napport\u00e9e expr\u00e8s pour moi. Apr\u00e8s avoir bu, je m\u2019assis \u00e0 terre; et,\nquoique cela m\u2019e\u00fbt rappel\u00e9 \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame, je fus encore longtemps sans\npouvoir lui dire un mot.\nCependant le pauvre homme \u00e9tait dans un aussi grand ravissement que\nmoi; seulement il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas comme moi sous le coup de la surprise.\nIl me disait mille bonnes et tendres choses pour me calmer et rappeler\nmes sens. Mais il y avait un tel gonflement de joie dans ma poitrine,\nque mes esprits \u00e9taient plong\u00e9s dans la confusion; cette crise se\ntermina enfin par des larmes, et peu apr\u00e8s je recouvrai la parole.\nAlors, je l\u2019\u00e9treignis \u00e0 mon tour, je l\u2019embrassai comme mon lib\u00e9rateur,\net nous nous abandonn\u00e2mes \u00e0 la joie. Je lui dis que je le regardais\ncomme un homme envoy\u00e9 par le ciel pour me d\u00e9livrer; que toute cette\naffaire me semblait un encha\u00eenement de prodiges; que de telles choses\n\u00e9taient pour nous un t\u00e9moignage que la main cach\u00e9e d\u2019une Providence\ngouverne l\u2019univers, et une preuve \u00e9vidente que l\u2019\u0153il d\u2019une puissance\ninfinie sait p\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans les coins les plus recul\u00e9s du monde et\nenvoyer aide aux malheureux toutes fois et quand il lui pla\u00eet.\nJe n\u2019oubliai pas d\u2019\u00e9lever au ciel mon c\u0153ur reconnaissant. Et quel c\u0153ur\naurait pu se d\u00e9fendre de b\u00e9nir. Celui qui non seulement avait d\u2019une\nfa\u00e7on miraculeuse pourvu aux besoins d\u2019un homme dans un semblable\nd\u00e9sert et dans un pareil abandon, mais de qui, il faut sans cesse le\nreconna\u00eetre, toute d\u00e9livrance proc\u00e8de!\nQuand nous e\u00fbmes convers\u00e9 quelque temps, le capitaine me dit qu\u2019il\nm\u2019avait apport\u00e9 certains petits rafra\u00eechissements que pouvait fournir\nle b\u00e2timent, et que les mis\u00e9rables qui en avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 si longtemps\nma\u00eetres n\u2019avaient pas gaspill\u00e9s. Sur ce, il appela les gens de la\npinasse et leur ordonna d\u2019apporter \u00e0 terre les choses destin\u00e9es\nau gouverneur. C\u2019\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement un pr\u00e9sent comme pour quelqu\u2019un\nqui n\u2019e\u00fbt pas d\u00fb s\u2019en aller avec eux, comme si j\u2019eusse d\u00fb toujours\ndemeurer dans l\u2019\u00eele, et comme s\u2019ils eussent d\u00fb partir sans moi.\nPremi\u00e8rement, il m\u2019avait apport\u00e9 un coffret \u00e0 flacons plein\nd\u2019excellentes eaux cordiales, six grandes bouteilles de vin de Mad\u00e8re,\nde la contenance de deux quartes, deux livres de tr\u00e8s bon tabac, douze\ngrosses pi\u00e8ces de b\u0153uf sal\u00e9 et six pi\u00e8ces de porc, avec un sac de pois\net environ cent livres de biscuit.\nIl m\u2019apporta aussi une caisse de sucre, une caisse de fleur de farine,\nun sac plein de citrons, deux bouteilles de jus de limon et une foule\nd\u2019autres choses. Outre cela, et ce qui m\u2019\u00e9tait mille fois plus utile,\nil ajouta six chemises toutes neuves, six cravates fort bonnes, deux\npaires de gants, une paire de souliers, un chapeau, une paire de bas,\nun tr\u00e8s bon habillement complet qu\u2019il n\u2019avait que tr\u00e8s peu port\u00e9. En\nun mot, il m\u2019\u00e9quipa des pieds \u00e0 la t\u00eate.\nComme on l\u2019imagine, c\u2019\u00e9tait un bien doux et bien agr\u00e9able pr\u00e9sent pour\nun homme dans ma situation. Mais jamais costume au monde ne fut aussi\nd\u00e9plaisant, aussi \u00e9trange, aussi incommode que le furent pour moi ces\nhabits les premi\u00e8res fois que je m\u2019en affublai.\nApr\u00e8s ces c\u00e9r\u00e9monies, et quand toutes ces bonnes choses furent\ntransport\u00e9es dans mon petit logement, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 nous\nconsulter sur ce que nous avions \u00e0 faire de nos prisonniers; car il\n\u00e9tait important de consid\u00e9rer si nous pouvions ou non risquer de les\nprendre avec nous, surtout les deux d\u2019entre eux que nous savions \u00eatre\nincorrigibles et intraitables au dernier degr\u00e9. Le capitaine me dit\nqu\u2019il les connaissait pour des vauriens tels qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas \u00e0\nles dompter, et que, s\u2019il les emmenait, ce ne pourrait \u00eatre que dans\nles fers, comme des malfaiteurs, afin de les livrer aux mains de la\njustice \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re colonie anglaise qu\u2019il atteindrait. Je m\u2019aper\u00e7us\nque le capitaine lui-m\u00eame en \u00e9tait fort chagrin. Aussi lui dis-je\nque, s\u2019il le souhaitait, j\u2019entreprendrais d\u2019amener les deux hommes en\nquestion \u00e0 demander eux-m\u00eames d\u2019\u00eatre laiss\u00e9s dans l\u2019\u00eele.\u2014\u00abJ\u2019en serais\naise, r\u00e9pondit-il, de tout mon c\u0153ur.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abBien, je vais les envoyer chercher et leur parler de votre part.\u00bb\u2014Je\ncommandai donc \u00e0 Vendredi et aux deux otages, qui pour lors \u00e9taient\nlib\u00e9r\u00e9s, leurs camarades ayant accompli leur promesse, je leur\nordonnai donc, dis-je, d\u2019aller \u00e0 la caverne, d\u2019emmener les cinq\nprisonniers, garrott\u00e9s comme ils \u00e9taient, \u00e0 ma tonnelle, et de les y\ngarder jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je vinsse.\nQuelque temps apr\u00e8s je m\u2019y rendis v\u00eatu de mon nouveau costume, et\nje fus alors derechef appel\u00e9 gouverneur. Tous \u00e9tant r\u00e9unis, et le\ncapitaine m\u0092\u2019accompagnant, je fis amener les prisonniers devant moi,\net je leur dis que j\u2019\u00e9tais parfaitement instruit de leur inf\u00e2me\nconduite envers le capitaine, et de leur projet de faire la course\navec le navire et d\u2019exercer le brigandage; mais que la Providence les\navait enlac\u00e9s dans leurs propres pi\u00e8ges, et qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient tomb\u00e9s dans\nla fosse qu\u2019ils avaient creus\u00e9e pour d\u2019autres.\nJe leur annon\u00e7ai que, par mes instructions, le navire avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nrecouvr\u00e9, qu\u2019il \u00e9tait pour lors dans la rade, et que tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure\nils s\u2019assureraient que leur nouveau capitaine avait re\u00e7u le prix de sa\ntrahison, car ils le verraient pendu au bout d\u2019une vergue.\nJe les priai de me dire, quant \u00e0 eux, ce qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e0 all\u00e9guer\npour que je ne les fisse pas ex\u00e9cuter comme des pirates pris sur le\nfait, ainsi qu\u2019ils ne pouvaient douter que ma commission m\u2019y autoris\u00e2t.\nUn d\u2019eux me r\u00e9pondit au nom de tous qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient rien \u00e0 dire,\nsinon que lorsqu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient rendus le capitaine leur avait promis\nla vie, et qu\u2019ils imploraient humblement ma mis\u00e9ricorde.\u2014\u00abJe ne\nsais quelle gr\u00e2ce vous faire, leur repartis-je: moi, j\u2019ai r\u00e9solu de\nquitter l\u2019\u00eele avec mes hommes, je m\u2019embarque avec le capitaine pour\nretourner en Angleterre; et lui, le capitaine, ne peut vous emmener\nque prisonniers, dans les fers, pour \u00eatre jug\u00e9s comme r\u00e9volt\u00e9s et\ncomme forbans, ce qui, vous ne l\u2019ignorez pas, vous conduirait droit\n\u00e0 la potence. Je n\u2019entrevois rien de meilleur pour vous, \u00e0 moins que\nvous n\u2019ayez envie d\u2019achever votre destin en ce lieu. Si cela vous\nconvient, comme il m\u2019est loisible de le quitter, je ne m\u2019y oppose\npas; je me sens m\u00eame quelque penchant \u00e0 vous accorder la vie si vous\npensez pouvoir vous accommoder de cette \u00eele.\u00bb\u2014Ils parurent tr\u00e8s\nreconnaissants, et me d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent qu\u2019ils pr\u00e9f\u00e9reraient se risquer \u00e0\ndemeurer en ce s\u00e9jour plut\u00f4t que d\u2019\u00eatre transf\u00e9r\u00e9s en Angleterre pour\n\u00eatre pendus: je tins cela pour dit.\nN\u00e9anmoins le capitaine parut faire quelques difficult\u00e9s, comme s\u2019il\nredoutait de les laisser. Alors je fis semblant de me f\u00e2cher contre\nlui, et je lui dis qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient mes prisonniers et non les siens;\nque, puisque je leur avais offert une si grande faveur, je voulais\n\u00eatre aussi bon que je m\u2019y \u00e9tais engag\u00e9; que s\u2019il ne jugeait point \u00e0\npropos d\u2019y consentir, je les remettrais en libert\u00e9, comme je les avais\ntrouv\u00e9s; permis \u00e0 lui de les reprendre, s\u2019il pouvait le faire.\nL\u00e0-dessus ils me t\u00e9moign\u00e8rent beaucoup de gratitude, et moi,\ncons\u00e9quemment, je les fis mettre en libert\u00e9; puis je leur dis de se\nretirer dans les bois, au lieu m\u00eame d\u2019o\u00f9 ils venaient, et que je leur\nlaisserais des armes \u00e0 feu, des munitions, et quelques instructions\nn\u00e9cessaires pour qu\u2019ils v\u00e9cussent tr\u00e8s bien si bon leur semblait.\nAlors je me disposai \u00e0 me rendre au navire. Je dis n\u00e9anmoins\nau capitaine que je resterais encore cette nuit pour faire mes\npr\u00e9paratifs, et que je d\u00e9sirais qu\u2019il retourn\u00e2t cependant \u00e0 son bord\npour y maintenir le bon ordre, et qu\u2019il m\u2019envoy\u00e2t la chaloupe \u00e0 terre\nle lendemain. Je lui recommandai en m\u00eame temps de faire pendre au\ntaquet d\u2019une vergue le nouveau capitaine, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9, afin que\nnos bannis pussent le voir.\nQuand le capitaine fut parti, je fis venir ces hommes \u00e0 mon logement,\net j\u2019entamai avec eux un grave entretien sur leur position. Je leur\ndis que, selon moi, ils avaient fait un bon choix; que si le capitaine\nles emmenait, ils seraient assur\u00e9ment pendus. Je leur montrai leur\ncapitaine \u00e0 eux flottant au bout d\u2019une vergue, et je leur d\u00e9clarai\nqu\u2019ils n\u2019auraient rien moins que cela \u00e0 attendre.\n[Illustration: Je leur montrai leur capitaine \u00e0 eux flottant au bout\nd\u2019une vergue...]\nQuand ils eurent tous manifest\u00e9 leur bonne disposition \u00e0 rester, je\nleur dis que je voulais les initier \u00e0 l\u2019histoire de mon existence\nen cette \u00eele, et les mettre \u00e0 m\u00eame de rendre la leur agr\u00e9able.\nCons\u00e9quemment je leur fis tout l\u2019historique du lieu et de ma venue\nen ce lieu. Je leur montrai mes fortifications; je leur indiquai la\nmani\u00e8re dont je faisais mon pain, plantais mon bl\u00e9 et pr\u00e9parais mes\nraisins; en un mot, je leur enseignai tout ce qui \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire\npour leur bien-\u00eatre. Je leur contai l\u2019histoire des seize Espagnols\nqu\u2019ils avaient \u00e0 attendre, pour lesquels je laissais une lettre, et je\nleur fis promettre de fraterniser avec eux[18].\nJe leur laissai mes armes \u00e0 feu, nomm\u00e9ment cinq mousquets et trois\nfusils de chasse, de plus trois \u00e9p\u00e9es, et environ un baril de poudre\nque j\u2019avais de reste; car apr\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re et la deuxi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e j\u2019en\nusais peu et n\u2019en gaspillais point.\nJe leur donnai une description de la mani\u00e8re de gouverner mes ch\u00e8vres,\net des instructions pour les traire et les engraisser, et pour faire\ndu beurre et du fromage.\nEn un mot, je leur mis \u00e0 jour chaque partie de ma propre histoire,\net leur donnai l\u2019assurance que j\u2019obtiendrais du capitaine qu\u2019il leur\nlaiss\u00e2t deux barils de poudre \u00e0 canon en plus, et quelques semences de\nl\u00e9gumes, que moi-m\u00eame, leur dis-je, je me serais estim\u00e9 fort heureux\nd\u2019avoir. Je leur abandonnai aussi le sac de pois que le capitaine\nm\u2019avait apport\u00e9 pour ma consommation, et je leur recommandai de les\nsemer, qu\u2019immanquablement ils multiplieraient.\nCeci fait, je pris cong\u00e9 d\u2019eux le jour suivant, et m\u2019en allai \u00e0\nbord du navire. Nous nous dispos\u00e2mes imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 la\nvoile, mais nous n\u2019appareill\u00e2mes que de nuit. Le lendemain matin,\nde tr\u00e8s bonne heure, deux des cinq exil\u00e9s rejoignirent le b\u00e2timent\n\u00e0 la nage, et, se plaignant tr\u00e8s lamentablement des trois autres\nbannis, demand\u00e8rent au nom de Dieu \u00e0 \u00eatre pris \u00e0 bord, car ils\nseraient assassin\u00e9s. Ils suppli\u00e8rent le capitaine de les accueillir,\ndussent-ils \u00eatre pendus sur-le-champ.\nA cela le capitaine pr\u00e9tendit ne pouvoir rien sans moi; mais apr\u00e8s\nquelques difficult\u00e9s, et seulement apr\u00e8s leur solennelle promesse\nd\u2019amendement, nous les re\u00e7\u00fbmes \u00e0 bord. Quelque temps apr\u00e8s ils furent\nfouett\u00e9s et ch\u00e2ti\u00e9s d\u2019importance; d\u00e8s lors ils se montr\u00e8rent de fort\ntranquilles et de fort honn\u00eates compagnons.\nEnsuite, \u00e0 mar\u00e9e haute, j\u2019allai au rivage avec la chaloupe charg\u00e9e\ndes choses promises aux exil\u00e9s, et auxquelles, sur mon intercession,\nle capitaine avait donn\u00e9 l\u2019ordre qu\u2019on ajout\u00e2t leurs coffres et leurs\nv\u00eatements, qu\u2019ils re\u00e7urent avec beaucoup de reconnaissance. Pour les\nencourager, je leur dis que s\u2019il ne m\u2019\u00e9tait point impossible de leur\nenvoyer un vaisseau pour les prendre, je ne les oublierais pas.\nQuand je pris cong\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, j\u2019emportai \u00e0 bord, comme reliques, le\ngrand bonnet de peau de ch\u00e8vre que je m\u2019\u00e9tais fabriqu\u00e9, mon parasol\net un de mes perroquets. Je n\u2019oubliai pas de prendre l\u2019argent dont\nautrefois je fis mention, lequel \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 si longtemps inutile\nqu\u2019il s\u2019\u00e9tait terni et noirci; \u00e0 peine aurait-il pu passer pour de\nl\u2019argent avant d\u2019avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 quelque peu frott\u00e9 et mani\u00e9. Je n\u2019oubliai\npas non plus celui que j\u2019avais trouv\u00e9 dans les d\u00e9bris du vaisseau\nespagnol.\nC\u2019est ainsi que j\u2019abandonnai mon \u00eele le dix-neuf d\u00e9cembre mil six cent\nquatre-vingt-six, selon le calcul du navire, apr\u00e8s y \u00eatre demeur\u00e9\nvingt-huit ans deux mois et dix-neuf jours. De cette seconde captivit\u00e9\nje fus d\u00e9livr\u00e9 le m\u00eame jour du mois que je m\u2019\u00e9tais enfui jadis dans le\nBarco-Longo, de chez les Maures de Sall\u00e9.\nSur ce navire, au bout d\u2019un long voyage, j\u2019arrivai en Angleterre le 11\njuin de l\u2019an 1687, apr\u00e8s une absence de trente-cinq ann\u00e9es.\nDEUXI\u00c8ME PARTIE\nCHAPITRE PREMIER\n     Le vieux capitaine portugais.\u2014Pr\u00e9paratifs de d\u00e9part.\u2014Attaqu\u00e9s par\n     des loups.\u2014Vendredi dompteur d\u2019ours.\u2014Combat avec les loups.\u2014Les\n     deux neveux.\u2014Recherche de nouvelles aventures.\u2014Pr\u00e9paratifs de\n     d\u00e9part.\u2014Le vaisseau incendi\u00e9.\u2014Gratitude du sauveteur.\u2014Requ\u00eate des\n     incendi\u00e9s.\u2014L\u2019\u00e9quipage affam\u00e9.\u2014Retour dans l\u2019\u00eele.\nQuand j\u2019arrivai en Angleterre, j\u2019\u00e9tais parfaitement \u00e9tranger \u00e0 tout\nle monde, comme si je n\u2019y eusse jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 connu. Ma bienfaitrice, ma\nfid\u00e8le intendante \u00e0 qui j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9 en d\u00e9p\u00f4t mon argent, vivait\nencore, mais elle avait essuy\u00e9 de grandes infortunes dans le monde;\net, devenue veuve pour la seconde fois, elle vivait ch\u00e9tivement. Je la\nmis \u00e0 l\u2019aise quant \u00e0 ce qu\u2019elle me devait, en lui donnant l\u2019assurance\nque je ne la chagrinerais point. Bien au contraire, en reconnaissance\nde ses premiers soins et de sa fid\u00e9lit\u00e9 envers moi, je l\u2019assistai\nautant que le comportait mon petit avoir, qui pour lors, il est vrai,\nne me permit pas de faire beaucoup pour elle. Mais je lui jurai que\nje garderais toujours souvenance de son ancienne amiti\u00e9 pour moi.\nEt vraiment je ne l\u2019oubliai pas lorsque je fus en position de la\nsecourir, comme on pourra le voir en son lieu.\nJe m\u2019en allai ensuite dans le Yorkshire. Mon p\u00e8re et ma m\u00e8re \u00e9taient\nmorts et toute ma famille \u00e9teinte, hormis deux s\u0153urs et deux enfants\nde l\u2019un de mes fr\u00e8res. Comme depuis longtemps je passais pour mort, on\nne m\u2019avait rien r\u00e9serv\u00e9 dans le partage. Bref, je ne trouvai ni appui\nni secours, et le petit capital que j\u2019avais n\u2019\u00e9tait pas suffisant pour\nfonder mon \u00e9tablissement dans le monde.\nA la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je re\u00e7us une marque de gratitude \u00e0 laquelle je ne\nm\u2019attendais pas: le capitaine que j\u2019avais si heureusement d\u00e9livr\u00e9\navec son navire et sa cargaison, ayant fait \u00e0 ses armateurs un beau\nr\u00e9cit de la mani\u00e8re dont j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9 le b\u00e2timent et l\u2019\u00e9quipage, ils\nm\u2019invit\u00e8rent avec quelques autres marchands int\u00e9ress\u00e9s \u00e0 les venir\nvoir, et tous ensemble ils m\u2019honor\u00e8rent d\u2019un fort gracieux compliment\n\u00e0 ce sujet et d\u2019un pr\u00e9sent d\u2019environ deux cents livres sterling.\nApr\u00e8s beaucoup de r\u00e9flexions sur ma position, et sur le peu de\nmoyens que j\u2019avais de m\u2019\u00e9tablir dans le monde, je r\u00e9solus de m\u2019en\naller \u00e0 Lisbonne, pour voir si je ne pourrais pas obtenir quelques\ninformations sur l\u2019\u00e9tat de ma plantation au Br\u00e9sil, et sur ce qu\u2019\u00e9tait\ndevenu mon partner, qui, j\u2019avais tout lieu de le supposer, avait d\u00fb\ndepuis bien des ann\u00e9es me mettre au rang des morts.\nDans cette vue, je m\u2019embarquai pour Lisbonne, o\u00f9 j\u2019arrivai au mois\nd\u2019avril suivant. Mon serviteur Vendredi m\u2019accompagna avec beaucoup de\nd\u00e9vouement dans toutes ces courses, et se montra le gar\u00e7on le plus\nfid\u00e8le en toute occasion.\nQuand j\u2019eus mis pied \u00e0 terre \u00e0 Lisbonne, je trouvai apr\u00e8s quelques\nrecherches, et \u00e0 ma toute particuli\u00e8re satisfaction, mon ancien ami\nle capitaine qui jadis m\u2019avait accueilli en mer \u00e0 la c\u00f4te d\u2019Afrique.\nVieux alors, il avait abandonn\u00e9 la mer, apr\u00e8s avoir laiss\u00e9 son navire\n\u00e0 son fils, qui n\u2019\u00e9tait plus un jeune homme, et qui continuait de\ncommercer avec le Br\u00e9sil. Le vieillard ne me reconnut pas, et de fait\nje le reconnaissais \u00e0 peine; mais je me r\u00e9tablis dans son souvenir\naussit\u00f4t que je lui eus dit qui j\u2019\u00e9tais.\nApr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9chang\u00e9 quelques expressions affectueuses de notre\nancienne connaissance, je m\u2019informai, comme on peut le croire, de ma\nplantation et de mon partner. Le vieillard me dit:\u2014\u00abJe ne suis pas\nall\u00e9 au Br\u00e9sil depuis environ neuf ans; je puis n\u00e9anmoins vous assurer\nque, lors de mon dernier voyage, votre partner vivait encore, mais\nles curateurs que vous lui aviez adjoints pour avoir l\u2019\u0153il sur votre\nportion \u00e9taient morts tous les deux.\n\u2014Je crois cependant que vous pourriez avoir un compte tr\u00e8s exact du\nrapport de votre plantation; parce que, sur la croyance g\u00e9n\u00e9rale\nqu\u2019ayant fait naufrage vous aviez \u00e9t\u00e9 noy\u00e9, vos curateurs ont\nvers\u00e9 le produit de votre part de la plantation dans les mains du\nprocureur fiscal, qui en a assign\u00e9,\u2014en cas que vous ne revinssiez\njamais le r\u00e9clamer,\u2014un tiers au roi et deux tiers au monast\u00e8re de\nSaint-Augustin, pour \u00eatre employ\u00e9s au soulagement des pauvres, et \u00e0\nla conversion des Indiens \u00e0 la foi catholique.\u2014Nonobstant, si vous\nvous pr\u00e9sentiez, ou quelqu\u2019un fond\u00e9 de vos pouvoirs, pour r\u00e9clamer\ncet h\u00e9ritage, il vous serait restitu\u00e9, except\u00e9 le revenu ou produit\nannuel, qui, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 affect\u00e9 \u00e0 des \u0153uvres charitables, ne peut \u00eatre\nrembours\u00e9. Je vous assure que l\u2019intendant du roi et le proveedor,\nou majordome du monast\u00e8re, ont toujours eu grand soin que le\nb\u00e9n\u00e9ficiaire, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire votre partner, leur rend\u00eet chaque ann\u00e9e un\ncompte fid\u00e8le du revenu total, dont ils ont d\u00fbment per\u00e7u votre moiti\u00e9.\u00bb\nJe lui demandai s\u2019il savait quel accroissement avait pris ma\nplantation; s\u2019il pensait qu\u2019elle val\u00fbt la peine de s\u2019en occuper, ou\nsi, allant sur les lieux, je ne rencontrerais pas d\u2019obstacle pour\nrentrer dans mes droits \u00e0 la moiti\u00e9.\nIl me r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abJe ne puis vous dire exactement \u00e0 quel point votre\nplantation s\u2019est am\u00e9lior\u00e9e, mais je sais que votre partner est devenu\nexcessivement riche par la seule jouissance de sa portion. Ce dont\nj\u2019ai meilleure souvenance, c\u2019est d\u2019avoir ou\u00ef dire que le tiers de\nvotre portion, d\u00e9volu au roi, et qui, ce me semble, a \u00e9t\u00e9 octroy\u00e9 \u00e0\nquelque monast\u00e8re ou maison religieuse, montait \u00e0 plus de 200 moidores\npar an. Quant \u00e0 \u00eatre r\u00e9tabli en paisible possession de votre bien,\ncela ne fait pas de doute, votre partner vivant encore pour t\u00e9moigner\nde vos droits, et votre nom \u00e9tant enregistr\u00e9 sur le cadastre du\npays.\u00bb\u2014Il me dit aussi:\u2014\u00abLes survivants de vos deux curateurs sont de\ntr\u00e8s probes et de tr\u00e8s honn\u00eates gens, fort riches, et je pense que\nnon seulement vous aurez leur assistance pour rentrer en possession,\nmais que vous trouverez entre leurs mains pour votre compte une somme\ntr\u00e8s consid\u00e9rable. C\u2019est le produit de la plantation pendant que leurs\np\u00e8res en avaient la curatelle, et avant qu\u2019ils s\u2019en fussent dessaisis,\ncomme je vous le disais tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure, ce qui eut lieu, autant que je\nme le rappelle, il y a environ douze ans.\u00bb\nA ce r\u00e9cit je montrai un peu de tristesse et d\u2019inqui\u00e9tude, et je\ndemandai au vieux capitaine comment il \u00e9tait advenu que mes curateurs\neussent ainsi dispos\u00e9 de mes biens, quand il n\u2019ignorait pas que\nj\u2019avais fait mon testament, et que je l\u2019avais institu\u00e9, lui, le\ncapitaine portugais, mon l\u00e9gataire universel.\n\u2014\u00abCela est vrai, me r\u00e9pondit-il; mais, comme il n\u2019y avait point\nde preuves de votre mort, je ne pouvais agir comme ex\u00e9cuteur\ntestamentaire jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019en eusse acquis quelque certitude. En\noutre, je ne me sentais pas port\u00e9 \u00e0 m\u2019entremettre dans une affaire si\nlointaine. Toutefois j\u2019ai fait enregistrer votre testament, et je l\u2019ai\nrevendiqu\u00e9; et, si j\u2019eusse pu constater que vous \u00e9tiez mort ou vivant,\nj\u2019aurais agi par procuration, et pris possession de l\u2019_engenho_,\u2014c\u2019est\nainsi que les Portugais nomment une sucrerie,\u2014et j\u2019aurais donn\u00e9 ordre\nde le faire \u00e0 mon fils, qui \u00e9tait alors au Br\u00e9sil.\n\u2014\u00abMais, poursuivit le vieillard, j\u2019ai une autre nouvelle \u00e0 vous\ndonner, qui peut-\u00eatre ne vous sera pas si agr\u00e9able que les autres:\nc\u2019est que, vous croyant perdu, et tout le monde le croyant aussi,\nvotre partner et vos curateurs m\u2019ont offert de s\u2019accommoder avec\nmoi, en votre nom, pour le revenu des six ou huit premi\u00e8res ann\u00e9es,\nlequel j\u2019ai re\u00e7u. Cependant de grandes d\u00e9penses ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 faites alors\npour augmenter la plantation, pour b\u00e2tir un _engenho_ et acheter des\nesclaves, ce produit ne s\u2019est pas \u00e9lev\u00e9 \u00e0 beaucoup pr\u00e8s aussi haut que\npar la suite. N\u00e9anmoins je vous rendrai un compte exact de tout ce que\nj\u2019ai re\u00e7u et de la mani\u00e8re dont j\u2019en ai dispos\u00e9.\u00bb\nApr\u00e8s quelques jours de nouvelles conf\u00e9rences avec ce vieil ami, il me\nremit un compte du revenu des six premi\u00e8res ann\u00e9es de ma plantation,\nsign\u00e9 par mon partner et mes deux curateurs, et qui lui avait toujours\n\u00e9t\u00e9 livr\u00e9 en marchandises telles que du tabac en rouleau, et du sucre\nen caisse, sans parler du _rum_, de la m\u00e9lasph\u00e6rule, produit oblig\u00e9\nd\u2019une sucrerie. Je reconnus par ce compte que le revenu s\u2019accroissait\nconsid\u00e9rablement chaque ann\u00e9e: mais, comme il a \u00e9t\u00e9 dit pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment,\nles d\u00e9penses ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 grandes, le boni fut petit d\u2019abord. Cependant,\nle vieillard me fit voir qu\u2019il \u00e9tait mon d\u00e9biteur pour 470 moidores;\noutre, 60 caisses de sucre et 15 doubles rouleaux de tabac, qui\ns\u2019\u00e9taient perdus dans son navire, ayant fait naufrage en revenant \u00e0\nLisbonne, environ onze ans apr\u00e8s mon d\u00e9part du Br\u00e9sil.\nCet homme de bien se prit alors \u00e0 se plaindre de ses malheurs, qui\nl\u2019avaient contraint \u00e0 faire usage de mon argent pour recouvrer ses\npertes et acheter une part dans un autre navire.\u2014\u00abQuoi qu\u2019il en soit,\nmon vieil ami, ajouta-t-il, vous ne manquerez pas de secours dans\nvotre n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, et aussit\u00f4t que mon fils sera de retour, vous serez\npleinement satisfait.\u00bb\nL\u00e0-dessus il tira une vieille escarcelle, et me donna 160 moidores\nportugais en or. Ensuite, me pr\u00e9sentant les titres de ses droits sur\nle b\u00e2timent avec lequel son fils \u00e9tait all\u00e9 au Br\u00e9sil, et dans lequel\nil \u00e9tait int\u00e9ress\u00e9 pour un quart et son fils pour un autre, il me les\nremit tous entre les mains en nantissement du reste.\n[Illustration: L\u00e0-dessus il tira une vieille escarcelle...]\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais beaucoup trop touch\u00e9 de la probit\u00e9 et de la candeur de ce\npauvre homme pour accepter cela; et, me rem\u00e9morant tout ce qu\u2019il\navait fait pour moi, comment il m\u2019avait accueilli en mer, combien il\nen avait us\u00e9 g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard en toute occasion, et combien\nsurtout il se montrait en ce moment ami sinc\u00e8re, je fus sur le point\nde pleurer quand il m\u2019adressait ces paroles. Aussi lui demandai-je\nd\u2019abord si sa situation lui permettait de se d\u00e9pouiller de tant\nd\u2019argent \u00e0 la fois, et si cela ne le g\u00eanerait point. Il me r\u00e9pondit\nqu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 cela pourrait le g\u00eaner un peu, mais que ce n\u2019en \u00e9tait\npas moins mon argent, et que j\u2019en avais peut-\u00eatre plus besoin que lui.\nTout ce que me disait ce galant homme \u00e9tait si affectueux que je\npouvais \u00e0 peine retenir mes larmes. Bref, je pris une centaine de\nmoidores, et lui demandai une plume et de l\u2019encre pour lui en faire un\nre\u00e7u; puis je lui rendis le reste, et lui dis:\u2014\u00abSi jamais je rentre en\npossession de ma plantation, je vous remettrai toute la somme,\u2014comme\neffectivement je fis plus tard;\u2014quant au titre de propri\u00e9t\u00e9 de\nvotre part sur le navire de votre fils, je ne veux en aucune fa\u00e7on\nl\u2019accepter; si je venais \u00e0 avoir besoin d\u2019argent, je vous tiens assez\nhonn\u00eate pour me payer; si au contraire je viens \u00e0 rentrer dans celui\nque vous me faites esp\u00e9rer, je ne recevrai plus jamais un penny de\nvous.\u00bb\nQuand ceci fut entendu, le vieillard me demanda s\u2019il ne pourrait pas\nme servir en quelque chose dans la r\u00e9clamation de ma plantation. Je\nlui dis que je pensais aller moi-m\u00eame sur les lieux.\u2014\u00abVous pouvez\nfaire ainsi, reprit-il, si cela vous pla\u00eet; mais, dans le cas\ncontraire, il y a bien des moyens d\u2019assurer vos droits et de recouvrer\nimm\u00e9diatement la jouissance de vos revenus.\u00bb\u2014Et, comme il se trouvait\ndans la rivi\u00e8re de Lisbonne des vaisseaux pr\u00eats \u00e0 partir pour le\nBr\u00e9sil, il me fit inscrire mon nom dans un registre public, avec une\nattestation de sa part, affirmant, sous serment, que j\u2019\u00e9tais en vie,\net que j\u2019\u00e9tais bien la m\u00eame personne qui avait entrepris autrefois le\nd\u00e9frichement et la culture de ladite plantation.\nA cette d\u00e9position r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement l\u00e9galis\u00e9e par un notaire, il me\nconseilla d\u2019annexer une procuration, et de l\u2019envoyer avec une lettre\nde sa main \u00e0 un marchand de sa connaissance qui \u00e9tait sur les lieux.\nPuis il me proposa de demeurer avec lui jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que j\u2019eusse obtenu\nune r\u00e9ponse.\nIl ne fut jamais rien de plus honorable que les proc\u00e9d\u00e9s dont ma\nprocuration fut suivie: car en moins de sept mois il m\u2019arriva de la\npart des survivants de mes curateurs, les marchands pour le compte\ndesquels je m\u2019\u00e9tais embarqu\u00e9, un gros paquet contenant les lettres et\npapiers suivants:\n1^o Il y avait un compte courant du produit de ma ferme ou plantation\ndurant dix ann\u00e9es, depuis que leurs p\u00e8res avaient r\u00e9gl\u00e9 avec mon vieux\ncapitaine de Portugal; la balance semblait \u00eatre en ma faveur de 1.174\nmoidores.\n2^o Il y avait un compte de quatre ann\u00e9es en sus, o\u00f9 les immeubles\n\u00e9taient rest\u00e9s entre leurs mains avant que le gouvernement en e\u00fbt\nr\u00e9clam\u00e9 l\u2019administration comme \u00e9tant les biens d\u2019une personne ne\nse retrouvant point, ce qui constitue mort civile. La balance de\ncelui-ci, vu l\u2019accroissement de la plantation, montait en cruzades \u00e0\nla valeur de 3.241 moidores.\n3^o Il y avait le compte du prieur des Augustins, qui, ayant per\u00e7u\nmes revenus pendant plus de quatorze ans, et ne devant pas me\nrembourser ce dont il avait dispos\u00e9 en faveur de l\u2019h\u00f4pital, d\u00e9clarait\ntr\u00e8s honn\u00eatement qu\u2019il avait encore entre les mains 872 moidores et\nreconnaissait me les devoir.\u2014Quant \u00e0 la part du roi, je n\u2019en tirai\nrien.\nIl y avait aussi une lettre de mon partner me f\u00e9licitant tr\u00e8s\naffectueusement de ce que j\u2019\u00e9tais encore de ce monde, et me donnant\ndes d\u00e9tails sur l\u2019am\u00e9lioration de ma plantation, sur ce qu\u2019elle\nproduisait par an, sur la quantit\u00e9 d\u2019acres qu\u2019elle contenait, sur sa\nculture et sur le nombre d\u2019esclaves qui l\u2019exploitaient. Puis, faisant\nvingt-deux croix en signe de b\u00e9n\u00e9diction, il m\u2019assurait qu\u2019il avait\ndit autant d\u2019_Ave Maria_ pour remercier la tr\u00e8s sainte Vierge de ce\nque je jouissais encore de la vie, et m\u2019engageait fortement \u00e0 venir\nmoi-m\u00eame prendre possession de ma propri\u00e9t\u00e9, ou \u00e0 lui faire savoir\nen quelles mains il devait remettre mes biens, si je ne venais pas\nmoi-m\u00eame. Il finissait par de tendres et cordiales protestations de\nson amiti\u00e9 et de celle de sa famille, et m\u2019adressait en pr\u00e9sent sept\nbelles peaux de l\u00e9opards, qu\u2019il avait sans doute re\u00e7ues d\u2019Afrique\npar quelque autre navire qu\u2019il y avait envoy\u00e9, et qui apparemment\navaient fait un plus heureux voyage que moi. Il m\u2019adressait aussi cinq\ncaisses d\u2019excellentes confitures, et une centaine de pi\u00e8ces d\u2019or non\nmonnay\u00e9es, pas tout \u00e0 fait si grandes que des moidores.\nPar la m\u00eame flotte mes curateurs m\u2019exp\u00e9di\u00e8rent 1.200 caisses de sucre,\n800 rouleaux de tabac, et le solde de leur compte en or.\nJe pouvais bien dire alors avec v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que la fin de Job \u00e9tait\nmeilleure que le commencement. Il serait impossible d\u2019exprimer les\nagitations de mon c\u0153ur \u00e0 la lecture de ces lettres, et surtout quand\nje me vis entour\u00e9 de tous mes biens; car les navires du Br\u00e9sil venant\ntoujours en flotte, les m\u00eames vaisseaux qui avaient apport\u00e9 mes\nlettres avaient aussi apport\u00e9 mes richesses, et mes marchandises\n\u00e9taient en s\u00fbret\u00e9 dans le Tage avant que j\u2019eusse la missive entre les\nmains. Bref, je devins si p\u00e2le et le c\u0153ur me tourna tellement que si\nle bon vieillard n\u2019\u00e9tait accouru et ne m\u2019avait apport\u00e9 un cordial, je\ncrois que ma joie soudaine aurait exc\u00e9d\u00e9 ma nature, et que je serais\nmort sur la place.\nMalgr\u00e9 cela, je continuai \u00e0 aller fort mal pendant quelques heures,\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019on e\u00fbt appel\u00e9 un m\u00e9decin, qui, apprenant la cause r\u00e9elle\nde mon indisposition, ordonna de me faire saigner, apr\u00e8s quoi je me\nsentis mieux et je me remis. Mais je crois v\u00e9ritablement que, si je\nn\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 soulag\u00e9 par l\u2019air que de cette mani\u00e8re on donna pour ainsi\ndire \u00e0 mes esprits, j\u2019aurais succomb\u00e9.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors tout d\u2019un coup ma\u00eetre de plus de 50.000 livres sterling\nen esp\u00e8ces, et au Br\u00e9sil d\u2019un domaine, je peux bien l\u2019appeler ainsi,\nd\u2019environ 1.000 livres sterling de revenu annuel, et aussi s\u00fbr que\npeut l\u2019\u00eatre une propri\u00e9t\u00e9 en Angleterre. En un mot, j\u2019\u00e9tais dans une\nsituation que je pouvais \u00e0 peine concevoir, et je ne savais quelles\ndispositions prendre pour en jouir.\nAvant toutes choses, ce que je fis, ce fut de r\u00e9compenser mon premier\nbienfaiteur, mon bon vieux capitaine, qui tout d\u2019abord avait eu pour\nmoi de la charit\u00e9 dans ma d\u00e9tresse, de la bont\u00e9 au commencement de\nnotre liaison et de la probit\u00e9 sur la fin. Je lui montrai ce qu\u2019on\nm\u2019envoyait, et lui dis qu\u2019apr\u00e8s la Providence c\u00e9leste, qui dispose\nde toutes choses, c\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e0 lui que j\u2019en \u00e9tais redevable, et qu\u2019il\nme restait \u00e0 le r\u00e9compenser, ce que je ferais au centuple. Je lui\nrendis donc premi\u00e8rement les 100 moidores que j\u2019avais re\u00e7us de lui;\npuis j\u2019envoyai chercher un tabellion et je le priai de dresser en\nbonne et due forme une quittance g\u00e9n\u00e9rale ou d\u00e9charge des 470 moidores\nqu\u2019il avait reconnu me devoir. Ensuite je lui demandai de me r\u00e9diger\nune procuration, l\u2019investissant receveur des revenus annuels de ma\nplantation, et prescrivant \u00e0 mon partner de compter avec lui, et\nde lui faire en mon nom ses remises par les flottes ordinaires.\nUne clause finale lui assurait un don annuel de 100 moidores sa\nvie durant, et \u00e0 son fils, apr\u00e8s sa mort, une rente viag\u00e8re de 50\nmoidores. C\u2019est ainsi que je m\u2019acquittai envers ce bon vieillard.\nJe me pris alors \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer quelle voie je suivrais dor\u00e9navant, et\nce que je ferais du domaine que la Providence avait ainsi replac\u00e9\nentre mes mains. En v\u00e9rit\u00e9, j\u2019avais plus de soucis en t\u00eate que je n\u2019en\navais eu pendant ma vie silencieuse dans l\u2019\u00eele, o\u00f9 je n\u2019avais besoin\nque de ce que j\u2019avais, o\u00f9 je n\u2019avais que ce dont j\u2019avais besoin;\ntandis qu\u2019\u00e0 cette heure j\u2019\u00e9tais sous le poids d\u2019un grand fardeau que\nje ne savais comment mettre \u00e0 l\u2019abri. Je n\u2019avais plus de caverne pour\ny cacher mon tr\u00e9sor, ni de lieu o\u00f9 il p\u00fbt loger sans serrure et sans\nclef, et se ternir et se moisir avant que personne m\u00eet la main dessus.\nBien au contraire, je ne savais o\u00f9 l\u2019h\u00e9berger, ni \u00e0 qui le confier.\nMon vieux patron, le capitaine, \u00e9tait, il est vrai, un homme int\u00e8gre:\nce fut lui mon seul refuge.\nSecondement, mon int\u00e9r\u00eat semblait m\u2019appeler au Br\u00e9sil; mais je ne\npouvais songer \u00e0 y aller avant d\u2019avoir arrang\u00e9 mes affaires, et\nlaiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re moi ma fortune en mains s\u00fbres. Je pensai d\u2019abord \u00e0 ma\nvieille amie la veuve, que je savais honn\u00eate et ne pouvoir qu\u2019\u00eatre\nloyale envers moi; mais alors elle \u00e9tait \u00e2g\u00e9e, pauvre, et, selon\ntoute apparence, peut-\u00eatre endett\u00e9e. Bref, je n\u2019avais ainsi d\u2019autre\nparti \u00e0 prendre que de m\u2019en retourner en Angleterre et d\u2019emporter mes\nrichesses avec moi.\nQuelques mois pourtant s\u2019\u00e9coul\u00e8rent avant que je me d\u00e9terminasse \u00e0\ncela; et c\u2019est pourquoi, lorsque je me fus parfaitement acquitt\u00e9\nenvers mon vieux capitaine, mon premier bienfaiteur, je pensai aussi\n\u00e0 ma pauvre veuve, dont le mari avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mon plus ancien patron,\net elle-m\u00eame, tant qu\u2019elle l\u2019avait pu, ma fid\u00e8le intendante et ma\ndirectrice. Mon premier soin fut de charger un marchand de Lisbonne\nd\u2019\u00e9crire \u00e0 son correspondant \u00e0 Londres, non pas seulement de lui payer\nun billet, mais d\u2019aller la trouver et de lui remettre de ma part\n100 livres sterling en esp\u00e8ces, de causer avec elle, de la consoler\ndans sa pauvret\u00e9, en lui donnant l\u2019assurance que, si Dieu me pr\u00eatait\nvie, elle aurait de nouveaux secours. En m\u00eame temps j\u2019envoyai dans\nleur province 100 livres sterling \u00e0 chacune de mes s\u0153urs, qui, bien\nqu\u2019elles ne fussent pas dans le besoin, ne se trouvaient pas dans de\ntr\u00e8s heureuses conditions, l\u2019une \u00e9tant veuve, et l\u2019autre ayant un mari\nqui n\u2019\u00e9tait pas aussi bon pour elle qu\u2019il l\u2019aurait d\u00fb.\nMais parmi tous mes parents ou connaissances, je ne pouvais faire\nchoix de personne \u00e0 qui j\u2019osasse confier le gros de mon capital, afin\nque je pusse aller au Br\u00e9sil et le laisser en s\u00fbret\u00e9 derri\u00e8re moi.\nCela me jeta dans une grande perplexit\u00e9.\nJ\u2019eus un moment l\u2019envie d\u2019aller au Br\u00e9sil et de m\u2019y \u00e9tablir, car\nj\u2019\u00e9tais pour ainsi dire naturalis\u00e9 dans cette contr\u00e9e; mais il\ns\u2019\u00e9veilla en mon esprit quelques petits scrupules religieux qui\ninsensiblement me d\u00e9tourn\u00e8rent de ce dessein, dont il sera reparl\u00e9\ntout \u00e0 l\u2019heure. Toutefois ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas la d\u00e9votion qui pour lors\nme retenait; comme je ne m\u2019\u00e9tais fait aucun scrupule de professer\npubliquement la religion du pays tout le temps que j\u2019y avais s\u00e9journ\u00e9,\npourquoi ne l\u2019euss\u00e9-je pas fait encore?\nNon, comme je l\u2019ai dit, ce n\u2019\u00e9tait point l\u00e0 la principale cause qui\ns\u2019oppos\u00e2t \u00e0 mon d\u00e9part pour le Br\u00e9sil, c\u2019\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement parce que\nje ne savais \u00e0 qui laisser mon avoir. Je me d\u00e9terminai donc enfin \u00e0\nme rendre avec ma fortune en Angleterre, o\u00f9, si j\u2019y parvenais, je\nme promettais de faire quelque connaissance ou de trouver quelque\nparent qui ne serait point infid\u00e8le envers moi. En cons\u00e9quence, je me\npr\u00e9parai \u00e0 partir pour l\u2019Angleterre avec toutes mes richesses.\nA dessein de tout disposer pour mon retour dans ma patrie,\u2014la flotte\ndu Br\u00e9sil \u00e9tant sur le point de faire voile,\u2014je r\u00e9solus d\u2019abord de\nr\u00e9pondre convenablement aux comptes justes et fid\u00e8les que j\u2019avais\nre\u00e7us. J\u2019\u00e9crivis premi\u00e8rement au prieur de Saint-Augustin une lettre\nde remerciement pour ses proc\u00e9d\u00e9s sinc\u00e8res, et je le priai de vouloir\nbien accepter les 872 moidores dont il n\u2019avait point dispos\u00e9;\nd\u2019en affecter 500 au monast\u00e8re et 372 aux pauvres, comme bon lui\nsemblerait. Enfin je me recommandai aux pri\u00e8res du r\u00e9v\u00e9rend P\u00e8re, et\nautres choses semblables.\nJ\u2019\u00e9crivis ensuite une lettre d\u2019action de gr\u00e2ces \u00e0 mes deux curateurs,\navec toute la reconnaissance que tant de droiture et de probit\u00e9\nrequ\u00e9rait. Quant \u00e0 leur adresser un pr\u00e9sent, ils \u00e9taient pour cela\ntrop au-dessus de toutes n\u00e9cessit\u00e9s.\nFinalement j\u2019\u00e9crivis \u00e0 mon partner, pour le f\u00e9liciter de son\nindustrie dans l\u2019am\u00e9lioration de la plantation et de son int\u00e9grit\u00e9\ndans l\u2019accroissement de la somme des productions. Je lui donnai mes\ninstructions sur le gouvernement futur de ma part, conform\u00e9ment\naux pouvoirs que j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9s \u00e0 mon vieux patron, \u00e0 qui je le\npriai d\u2019envoyer ce qui me reviendrait, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il e\u00fbt plus\nparticuli\u00e8rement de mes nouvelles; l\u2019assurant que mon intention\n\u00e9tait non seulement d\u2019aller le visiter, mais encore de m\u2019\u00e9tablir au\nBr\u00e9sil pour le reste de ma vie. A cela j\u2019ajoutai pour sa femme et ses\nfilles,\u2014le fils du capitaine m\u2019en avait parl\u00e9,\u2014le fort galant cadeau\nde quelques soieries d\u2019Italie, de deux pi\u00e8ces de drap fin anglais, le\nmeilleur que je pus trouver dans Lisbonne, de cinq pi\u00e8ces de frise\nnoire et de quelques dentelles de Flandre de grand prix.\nAyant ainsi mis ordre \u00e0 mes affaires, vendu ma cargaison et converti\ntout mon avoir en bonnes lettres de change, mon nouvel embarras fut\nle choix de la route \u00e0 prendre pour passer en Angleterre. J\u2019\u00e9tais\nassez accoutum\u00e9 \u00e0 la mer, et pourtant je me sentais alors une \u00e9trange\naversion pour ce mode de voyage; et, quoique je n\u2019en eusse pu donner\nla raison, cette r\u00e9pugnance s\u2019accrut tellement, que je changeai\nd\u2019avis, et fis rapporter mon bagage embarqu\u00e9 pour le d\u00e9part, non\nseulement une fois, mais deux ou trois fois.\nIl est vrai que mes malheurs sur mer pouvaient bien \u00eatre une des\nraisons de ces appr\u00e9hensions; mais qu\u2019en pareille circonstance nul\nhomme ne m\u00e9prise les fortes impulsions de ses pens\u00e9es intimes. Deux\ndes vaisseaux que j\u2019avais choisis pour mon embarquement, j\u2019entends\nplus particuli\u00e8rement choisis qu\u2019aucun autre, car dans l\u2019un j\u2019avais\nfait porter toutes mes valises, et, quant \u00e0 l\u2019autre, j\u2019avais fait\nmarch\u00e9 avec le capitaine; deux de ces vaisseaux, dis-je, furent\nperdus: le premier fut pris par les Alg\u00e9riens, le second fit naufrage\nvers le Start, pr\u00e8s de Torbay, et, trois hommes except\u00e9s, tout\nl\u2019\u00e9quipage se noya. Ainsi, dans l\u2019un ou l\u2019autre de ces vaisseaux,\nj\u2019eusse trouv\u00e9 le malheur. Et dans lequel le plus grand? il est\ndifficile de le dire.\nMon esprit \u00e9tant ainsi harass\u00e9 par ces perplexit\u00e9s, mon vieux pilote,\n\u00e0 qui je ne celais rien, me pria instamment de ne point aller sur\nmer, mais de me rendre par terre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la Corogne, de traverser le\ngolfe de Biscaye pour atteindre La Rochelle, d\u2019o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait ais\u00e9 de\nvoyager s\u00fbrement par terre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Paris, et de l\u00e0 de gagner Calais et\nDouvres, ou bien d\u2019aller \u00e0 Madrid et de traverser toute la France.\nBref, j\u2019avais une telle appr\u00e9hension de la mer, que, sauf de Calais\n\u00e0 Douvres, je r\u00e9solus de faire toute la route par terre; comme je\nn\u2019\u00e9tais point press\u00e9 et que peu m\u2019importait la d\u00e9pense, c\u2019\u00e9tait bien\nle plus agr\u00e9able chemin. Pour qu\u2019il le f\u00fbt plus encore, mon vieux\ncapitaine m\u2019amena un Anglais, un gentleman, fils d\u2019un n\u00e9gociant de\nLisbonne, qui \u00e9tait d\u00e9sireux d\u2019entreprendre ce voyage avec moi.\nNous recueill\u00eemes en outre deux marchands anglais et deux jeunes\ngentilshommes portugais: ces derniers n\u2019allaient que jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Paris\nseulement. Nous \u00e9tions en tout six ma\u00eetres et cinq serviteurs, les\ndeux marchands et les deux Portugais se contentant d\u2019un valet pour\ndeux, afin d\u2019\u00e9pargner la d\u00e9pense. Quant \u00e0 moi, pour le voyage je\nm\u2019\u00e9tais attach\u00e9 un matelot anglais comme domestique, outre Vendredi,\nqui \u00e9tait trop \u00e9tranger pour m\u2019en tenir lieu durant la route.\nNous part\u00eemes ainsi de Lisbonne. Notre compagnie \u00e9tant toute bien\nmont\u00e9e et bien arm\u00e9e, nous formions une petite troupe dont on me fit\nl\u2019honneur de me nommer capitaine, parce que j\u2019\u00e9tais le plus \u00e2g\u00e9, que\nj\u2019avais deux serviteurs, et qu\u2019au fait j\u2019\u00e9tais la cause premi\u00e8re du\nvoyage.\nComme je ne vous ai point ennuy\u00e9 de mes journaux de mer, je ne vous\nfatiguerai point de mes journaux de terre; toutefois, durant ce long\net difficile voyage, quelques aventures nous advinrent que je ne puis\nomettre.\nQuand nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 Madrid, \u00e9tant tous \u00e9trangers \u00e0 l\u2019Espagne, la\nfantaisie nous vint de nous y arr\u00eater quelque temps pour voir la cour\net tout ce qui \u00e9tait digne d\u2019observation; mais, comme nous \u00e9tions sur\nla fin de l\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9, nous nous h\u00e2t\u00e2mes, et quitt\u00e2mes Madrid environ au\nmilieu d\u2019octobre. En atteignant les fronti\u00e8res de la Navarre, nous\nf\u00fbmes alarm\u00e9s en apprenant dans quelques villes le long du chemin que\ntant de neige \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9e sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 fran\u00e7ais des montagnes, que\nplusieurs voyageurs avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9s de retourner \u00e0 Pampelune,\napr\u00e8s avoir \u00e0 grands risques tent\u00e9 le passage.\nArriv\u00e9s \u00e0 Pampelune, nous trouv\u00e2mes qu\u2019on avait dit vrai; et pour moi,\nqui avais toujours v\u00e9cu sous un climat chaud, dans des contr\u00e9es o\u00f9 je\npouvais \u00e0 peine endurer des v\u00eatements, le froid fut insupportable. Au\nfait, il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas moins surprenant que p\u00e9nible d\u2019avoir quitt\u00e9 dix\njours auparavant la Vieille-Castille, o\u00f9 le temps \u00e9tait non seulement\nchaud mais br\u00fblant, et de sentir imm\u00e9diatement le vent des Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es si\nvif et si rude qu\u2019il \u00e9tait insoutenable, et mettait nos doigts et nos\norteils en danger d\u2019\u00eatre engourdis et gel\u00e9s. C\u2019\u00e9tait vraiment \u00e9trange.\nLe pauvre Vendredi fut r\u00e9ellement effray\u00e9 quand il vit ces montagnes\ntoutes couvertes de neige et qu\u2019il sentit le froid de l\u2019air, choses\nqu\u2019il n\u2019avait jamais ni vues ni ressenties de sa vie.\nPour couper court, apr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes atteint Pampelune, il continua\n\u00e0 neiger avec tant de violence et si longtemps, qu\u2019on disait que\nl\u2019hiver \u00e9tait venu avant son temps. Les routes, qui \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0\ndifficiles, furent alors tout \u00e0 fait impraticables. En un mot, la\nneige se trouvait en quelques endroits trop \u00e9paisse pour qu\u2019on p\u00fbt\nvoyager, et, n\u2019\u00e9tant point durcie par la gel\u00e9e, comme dans les pays\nseptentrionaux, on courait risque d\u2019\u00eatre enseveli vivant \u00e0 chaque pas.\nNous ne nous arr\u00eat\u00e2mes pas moins de vingt jours \u00e0 Pampelune; mais,\nvoyant que l\u2019hiver s\u2019approchait sans apparence d\u2019adoucissement,\u2014ce fut\npar toute l\u2019Europe l\u2019hiver le plus rigoureux qu\u2019il y e\u00fbt eu depuis\nnombre d\u2019ann\u00e9es,\u2014je proposai d\u2019aller \u00e0 Fontarabie, et l\u00e0 de nous\nembarquer pour Bordeaux, ce qui n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019un tr\u00e8s petit voyage.\nTandis que nous \u00e9tions \u00e0 d\u00e9lib\u00e9rer l\u00e0-dessus, il arriva quatre\ngentilshommes fran\u00e7ais, qui, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 arr\u00eat\u00e9s sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 fran\u00e7ais\ndes passages comme nous sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 espagnol, avaient trouv\u00e9 un guide\nqui, traversant le pays pr\u00e8s de la pointe du Languedoc, leur avait\nfait passer les montagnes par de tels chemins, que la neige les\navait peu incommod\u00e9s, et o\u00f9, quand il y en avait en quantit\u00e9, nous\ndirent-ils, elle \u00e9tait assez durcie par la gel\u00e9e pour les porter eux\net leurs chevaux.\nNous envoy\u00e2mes qu\u00e9rir ce guide.\u2014\u00abJ\u2019entreprendrai de vous mener par le\nm\u00eame chemin, sans danger quant \u00e0 la neige, nous dit-il, pourvu que\nvous soyez assez bien arm\u00e9s pour vous d\u00e9fendre des b\u00eates sauvages; car\ndurant ces grandes neiges il n\u2019est pas rare que des loups, devenus\nenrag\u00e9s par le manque de nourriture, se fassent voir au pied des\nmontagnes.\u00bb\u2014Nous lui d\u00eemes que nous \u00e9tions suffisamment pr\u00e9munis\ncontre de pareilles cr\u00e9atures, s\u2019il nous pr\u00e9servait d\u2019une esp\u00e8ce\nde loups \u00e0 deux jambes, que nous avions beaucoup \u00e0 redouter, nous\ndisait-on, particuli\u00e8rement sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 fran\u00e7ais des montagnes.\nIl nous affirma qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait point de danger de cette sorte par la\nroute que nous devions prendre. Nous consent\u00eemes donc sur-le-champ \u00e0\nle suivre. Le m\u00eame parti fut pris par douze autres gentilshommes avec\nleurs domestiques, quelques-uns fran\u00e7ais, quelques-uns espagnols, qui,\ncomme je l\u2019ai dit, avaient tent\u00e9 le voyage et s\u2019\u00e9taient vus forc\u00e9s de\nrevenir sur leurs pas.\nCons\u00e9quemment nous part\u00eemes de Pampelune avec notre guide vers le 15\nnovembre, et je fus vraiment surpris quand, au lieu de nous mener\nen avant, je le vis nous faire rebrousser de plus de vingt milles,\npar la m\u00eame route que nous avions suivie en venant de Madrid. Ayant\npass\u00e9 deux rivi\u00e8res et gagn\u00e9 le pays plat, nous nous retrouv\u00e2mes\ndans un climat chaud, o\u00f9 le pays \u00e9tait agr\u00e9able et o\u00f9 l\u2019on ne voyait\naucune trace de neige; mais tout \u00e0 coup, tournant \u00e0 gauche, il nous\nramena vers les montagnes par un autre chemin. Les rochers et les\npr\u00e9cipices \u00e9taient vraiment effrayants \u00e0 voir; cependant il fit tant\nde tours et de d\u00e9tours, et nous conduisit par des chemins si tortueux,\nqu\u2019insensiblement nous pass\u00e2mes le sommet des montagnes sans \u00eatre\ntrop incommod\u00e9s par la neige. Et soudain il nous montra les agr\u00e9ables\net fertiles provinces de Languedoc et de Gascogne, toutes vertes et\nfleurissantes, quoique, au fait, elles fussent \u00e0 une grande distance\net que nous eussions encore bien du mauvais chemin \u00e0 parcourir.\nNous e\u00fbmes pourtant un peu \u00e0 d\u00e9compter, quand tout un jour et une nuit\nnous v\u00eemes neiger si fort que nous ne pouvions avancer. Mais notre\nguide nous dit de nous tranquilliser, que bient\u00f4t tout serait franchi.\nNous nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes en effet que nous descendions chaque jour, et que\nnous nous avancions plus au nord qu\u2019auparavant; nous reposant donc sur\nnotre guide, nous poursuiv\u00eemes notre voyage.\nDeux heures environ avant la nuit, notre guide \u00e9tait devant nous \u00e0\nquelque distance et hors de notre vue, quand soudain trois loups\nmonstrueux, suivis d\u2019un ours, s\u2019\u00e9lanc\u00e8rent d\u2019un chemin creux joignant\nun bois \u00e9pais. Deux des loups se jet\u00e8rent sur le guide; et, s\u2019il\ns\u2019\u00e9tait trouv\u00e9 seulement \u00e9loign\u00e9 d\u2019un demi-mille, il aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0\ncoup s\u00fbr d\u00e9vor\u00e9 avant que nous eussions pu le secourir. L\u2019un de ces\nanimaux s\u2019agrippa au cheval, et l\u2019autre attaqua l\u2019homme avec tant\nde violence, qu\u2019il n\u2019eut pas le temps ou la pr\u00e9sence d\u2019esprit de\ns\u2019armer de son pistolet, mais il se prit \u00e0 crier et \u00e0 nous appeler de\ntoute sa force. J\u2019ordonnai \u00e0 mon serviteur Vendredi, qui \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s\nde moi, d\u2019aller \u00e0 toute bride voir ce qui se passait. D\u00e8s qu\u2019il fut\n\u00e0 port\u00e9e de vue du guide, il se mit a crier aussi fort que lui:\u2014\u00abO\nma\u00eetre! O ma\u00eetre!\u00bb\u2014Mais, comme un hardi compagnon, il galopa droit au\npauvre homme, et d\u00e9chargea son pistolet dans la t\u00eate d\u2019un loup qui\nl\u2019attaquait.\n[Illustration: Deux des loups se jet\u00e8rent sur le guide...]\nPar bonheur pour le pauvre guide, ce fut mon serviteur Vendredi qui\nvint \u00e0 son aide; car celui-ci, dans son pays, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 familiaris\u00e9\navec cette esp\u00e8ce d\u2019animal, fondit sur lui sans peur et tira son coup\n\u00e0 bout portant; au lieu que tout autre de nous aurait tir\u00e9 de plus\nloin, et peut-\u00eatre manqu\u00e9 le loup, ou couru le danger de frapper\nl\u2019homme.\nIl y avait l\u00e0 de quoi \u00e9pouvanter un plus vaillant que moi; et de fait\ntoute la compagnie s\u2019alarma quand avec la d\u00e9tonation du pistolet de\nVendredi nous entend\u00eemes des deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s les affreux hurlements des\nloups, et ces cris tellement redoubl\u00e9s par l\u2019\u00e9cho des montagnes, qu\u2019on\ne\u00fbt dit qu\u2019il y en avait une multitude prodigieuse; et peut-\u00eatre en\neffet leur nombre l\u00e9gitimait-il nos appr\u00e9hensions.\nQuoi qu\u2019il en f\u00fbt, lorsque Vendredi eut tu\u00e9 ce loup, l\u2019autre, qui\ns\u2019\u00e9tait cramponn\u00e9 au cheval, l\u2019abandonna sur-le-champ et s\u2019enfuit.\nFort heureusement, comme il l\u2019avait attaqu\u00e9 \u00e0 la t\u00eate, ses dents\ns\u2019\u00e9taient fich\u00e9es dans les bosselles de la bride, de sorte qu\u2019il lui\navait fait peu de mal. Mais l\u2019homme \u00e9tait gri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9: l\u2019animal\nfurieux lui avait fait deux morsures, l\u2019une au bras et l\u2019autre un peu\nau-dessus du genou, et il \u00e9tait juste sur le point d\u2019\u00eatre renvers\u00e9 par\nson cheval effray\u00e9 quand Vendredi accourut et tua le loup.\nOn imaginera facilement qu\u2019au bruit du pistolet de Vendredi nous\nfor\u00e7\u00e2mes tous le pas et galop\u00e2mes aussi vite que nous le permettait\nun chemin ardu, pour voir ce que cela voulait dire. Sit\u00f4t que nous\ne\u00fbmes pass\u00e9 les arbres qui masquaient la vue, nous juge\u00e2mes clairement\nde quoi il s\u2019agissait, et de quel mauvais pas Vendredi avait tir\u00e9 le\npauvre guide, quoique nous ne pussions distinguer d\u2019abord l\u2019esp\u00e8ce\nd\u2019animal qu\u2019il avait tu\u00e9.\nMais jamais combat ne fut pr\u00e9sent\u00e9 plus hardiment et plus \u00e9trangement\nque celui qui suivit entre Vendredi et l\u2019ours, et qui, bien que nous\neussions \u00e9t\u00e9 premi\u00e8rement surpris et effray\u00e9s, nous donna \u00e0 tous le\nplus grand divertissement imaginable.\u2014L\u2019ours est un gros et pesant\nanimal; il ne galope point comme le loup, alerte et l\u00e9ger; mais il\nposs\u00e8de deux qualit\u00e9s particuli\u00e8res, sur lesquelles g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement\nil base ses actions. Premi\u00e8rement, il ne fait point sa proie de\nl\u2019homme, non pas que je veuille dire que la faim extr\u00eame ne l\u2019y\npuisse forcer,\u2014comme dans le cas pr\u00e9sent, la terre \u00e9tant couverte de\nneige,\u2014et d\u2019ordinaire il ne l\u2019attaque que lorsqu\u2019il en est attaqu\u00e9. Si\nvous le rencontrez dans les bois, et que vous ne vous m\u00ealiez pas de\nses affaires, il ne se m\u00ealera pas des v\u00f4tres. Mais ayez soin d\u2019\u00eatre\ntr\u00e8s galant avec lui et de lui c\u00e9der la route, car c\u2019est un gentleman\nfort chatouilleux, qui ne voudrait point faire un pas hors de son\nchemin, f\u00fbt-ce pour un roi. Si r\u00e9ellement vous en \u00eates effray\u00e9, votre\nmeilleur parti est de d\u00e9tourner les yeux et de poursuivre; car si par\nhasard vous vous arr\u00eatez, demeurez coi et le regardez fixement, il\nprendra cela pour un affront, et si vous lui jetiez ou lui lanciez\nquelque chose qui l\u2019atteignit, ne serait-ce qu\u2019un bout de b\u00e2ton gros\ncomme votre doigt, il le consid\u00e9rerait comme un outrage, et mettrait\nde c\u00f4t\u00e9 toute autre affaire pour en tirer vengeance; car il veut avoir\nsatisfaction sur le point d\u2019honneur: c\u2019est l\u00e0 sa premi\u00e8re qualit\u00e9. La\nseconde, c\u2019est qu\u2019une fois offens\u00e9, il ne vous laissera ni jour ni\nnuit, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il ait sa revanche, et vous suivra, de son allure\npesante et sans fa\u00e7on, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il vous ait atteint.\nMon serviteur Vendredi, lorsque nous le joign\u00eemes, avait d\u00e9livr\u00e9 notre\nguide, et l\u2019aidait \u00e0 descendre de son cheval, car le pauvre homme\n\u00e9tait bless\u00e9 et effray\u00e9 plus encore, quand soudain nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes\nl\u2019ours sortir du bois; il \u00e9tait monstrueux, et de beaucoup le plus\ngros que j\u2019eusse jamais vu. A son aspect nous f\u00fbmes tous un peu\nsurpris; mais nous discern\u00e2mes ais\u00e9ment du courage et de la joie dans\nla contenance de Vendredi.\u2014\u00abO! O! O! s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il trois fois, en le\nmontrant du doigt, \u00f4 ma\u00eetre! vous me donner cong\u00e9, moi donner une\npoign\u00e9e de main \u00e0 lui, moi vous faire vous bon rire.\u00bb\nJe fus \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de voir ce gar\u00e7on si transport\u00e9.\u2014\u00abTu es fou, lui dis-je,\nil te d\u00e9vorera!\u00bb\u2014\u00abD\u00e9vorer moi! d\u00e9vorer moi? r\u00e9p\u00e9ta Vendredi. Moi\nd\u00e9vorer lui, moi faire vous bon rire; vous tous rester l\u00e0, moi montrer\nvous bon rire.\u00bb\u2014Aussit\u00f4t il s\u2019assied \u00e0 terre, en un tour de main \u00f4te\nses bottes, chausse une paire d\u2019escarpins qu\u2019il avait dans sa poche,\ndonne son cheval \u00e0 mon autre serviteur, et, arm\u00e9 de son fusil, se met\n\u00e0 courir comme le vent.\nL\u2019ours se promenait tout doucement, sans songer \u00e0 troubler personne,\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que Vendredi, arriv\u00e9 assez pr\u00e8s, se mit \u00e0 l\u2019appeler\ncomme s\u2019il pouvait le comprendre:\u2014\u00ab\u00c9coute! \u00e9coute! moi parler avec\ntoi.\u00bb\u2014Nous suivions \u00e0 distance; car, ayant alors descendu le c\u00f4t\u00e9 des\nmontagnes qui regarde la Gascogne, nous \u00e9tions entr\u00e9s dans une immense\nfor\u00eat dont le sol plat \u00e9tait rempli de clairi\u00e8res parsem\u00e9es d\u2019arbres\n\u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0.\nVendredi, qui \u00e9tait, comme nous l\u2019avons dit, sur les talons de l\u2019ours,\nle joignit promptement, ramassa une grosse pierre, la lui jeta et\nl\u2019atteignit \u00e0 la t\u00eate; mais il ne lui fit pas plus de mal que s\u2019il\nl\u2019avait lanc\u00e9e contre un mur: elle r\u00e9pondait cependant \u00e0 ses fins,\ncar le dr\u00f4le \u00e9tait si exempt de peur, qu\u2019il ne faisait cela que pour\nobliger l\u2019ours \u00e0 le poursuivre, et nous montrer bon rire, comme il\ndisait.\nSit\u00f4t que l\u2019ours sentit la pierre et aper\u00e7ut Vendredi, il se retourna,\net s\u2019avan\u00e7a vers lui en faisant de longues et diaboliques enjamb\u00e9es,\nmarchant tout de guingois et d\u2019une si \u00e9trange allure, qu\u2019il aurait\nfait prendre \u00e0 un cheval le petit galop. Vendredi s\u2019enfuit et porta sa\ncourse de notre c\u00f4t\u00e9, comme pour demander du secours. Nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes\ndonc de faire feu tous ensemble sur l\u2019ours, afin de d\u00e9livrer mon\nserviteur. J\u2019\u00e9tais cependant f\u00e2ch\u00e9 de tout c\u0153ur contre lui, pour avoir\nainsi attir\u00e9 la b\u00eate sur nous lorsqu\u2019elle allait \u00e0 ses affaires par un\nautre chemin. J\u2019\u00e9tais surtout en col\u00e8re de ce qu\u2019il l\u2019avait d\u00e9tourn\u00e9e\net puis avait pris la fuite. Je l\u2019appelai:\u2014\u00abChien, lui dis-je, est-ce\nl\u00e0 nous faire rire? Arrive ici et reprends ton bidet, afin que nous\npuissions faire feu sur l\u2019animal.\u00bb\u2014Il m\u2019entendit et cria:\u2014\u00abPas tirer!\npas tirer! rester tranquille; vous avoir beaucoup rire.\u00bb\u2014Comme l\u2019agile\ngar\u00e7on faisait deux enjamb\u00e9es contre la b\u00eate une, il tourna tout \u00e0\ncoup de c\u00f4t\u00e9, et, apercevant un grand ch\u00eane propre \u00e0 son dessein, il\nnous fit signe de le suivre; puis, redoublant de prestesse, il monta\nlestement sur l\u2019arbre, ayant laiss\u00e9 son fusil sur la terre, \u00e0 environ\ncinq ou six verges plus loin.\nL\u2019ours arriva bient\u00f4t vers l\u2019arbre. Nous le suivions \u00e0 distance. Son\npremier soin fut de s\u2019arr\u00eater au fusil et de le flairer; puis, le\nlaissant l\u00e0, il s\u2019agrippa \u00e0 l\u2019arbre et grimpa comme un chat, malgr\u00e9 sa\nmonstrueuse pesanteur. J\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de la folie de mon serviteur,\ncar j\u2019envisageais cela comme tel; et, sur ma vie, je ne trouvais l\u00e0\ndedans rien encore de risible, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que, voyant l\u2019ours monter \u00e0\nl\u2019arbre, nous nous rapproch\u00e2mes de lui.\nQuand nous arriv\u00e2mes, Vendredi avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 gagn\u00e9 l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 d\u2019une\ngrosse branche, et l\u2019ours avait fait la moiti\u00e9 du chemin pour\nl\u2019atteindre. Aussit\u00f4t que l\u2019animal parvint \u00e0 l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 la branche\n\u00e9tait plus faible:\u2014\u00abAh! nous cria Vendredi, maintenant vous voir, moi\napprendre l\u2019ours \u00e0 danser.\u00bb\u2014Et il se mit \u00e0 sauter et \u00e0 secouer la\nbranche. L\u2019ours, commen\u00e7ant alors \u00e0 chanceler, s\u2019arr\u00eata court et se\nprit \u00e0 regarder derri\u00e8re lui pour voir comment il s\u2019en retournerait,\nce qui effectivement nous fit rire de tout c\u0153ur. Mais il s\u2019en fallait\nde beaucoup que Vendredi e\u00fbt fini avec lui. Quand il le vit se tenir\ncoi, il l\u2019appela de nouveau, comme s\u2019il eut suppos\u00e9 que l\u2019ours parlait\nanglais:\u2014\u00abComment! toi pas venir plus loin? Moi prie toi venir plus\nloin.\u00bb\u2014Il cessa donc de sauter et de remuer la branche; et l\u2019ours,\njuste comme s\u2019il comprenait ce qu\u2019il disait, s\u2019avan\u00e7a un peu. Alors\nVendredi se reprit \u00e0 sauter, et l\u2019ours s\u2019arr\u00eata encore.\n[Illustration: \u2014Comment! toi pas venir plus loin?...]\nNous pens\u00e2mes alors que c\u2019\u00e9tait un bon moment pour le frapper \u00e0 la\nt\u00eate, et je criai \u00e0 Vendredi de rester tranquille, que nous voulions\ntirer sur l\u2019ours; mais il r\u00e9pliqua vivement:\u2014\u00abO prie! O prie! pas\ntirer; moi tirer pr\u00e8s et alors.\u00bb\u2014Il voulait dire tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure.\nCependant, pour abr\u00e9ger l\u2019histoire, Vendredi dansait tellement et\nl\u2019ours se posait d\u2019une fa\u00e7on si grotesque, que vraiment nous p\u00e2mions\nde rire. Mais nous ne pouvions encore concevoir ce que le camarade\nvoulait faire. D\u2019abord, nous avions pens\u00e9 qu\u2019il comptait renverser\nl\u2019ours; mais nous v\u00eemes que la b\u00eate \u00e9tait trop rus\u00e9e pour cela: elle\nne voulait pas avancer, de peur d\u2019\u00eatre jet\u00e9e \u00e0 bas, et s\u2019accrochait\nsi bien avec ses grandes griffes et ses grosses pattes, que nous ne\npouvions imaginer quelle serait l\u2019issue de ceci et o\u00f9 s\u2019arr\u00eaterait la\nbouffonnerie.\nMais Vendredi nous tira bient\u00f4t d\u2019incertitude. Voyant que l\u2019ours se\ncramponnait \u00e0 la branche et ne voulait point se laisser persuader\nd\u2019approcher davantage;\u2014\u00abBien, bien! dit-il, toi pas venir plus loin,\nmoi aller, moi aller; toi pas venir avec moi, moi aller \u00e0 toi.\u00bb Sur\nce, il se retire jusqu\u2019au bout de la branche, et, la faisant fl\u00e9chir\nsous son poids, il s\u2019y suspend et la courbe doucement jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il\nsoit assez pr\u00e8s de terre pour tomber sur ses pieds; puis il court \u00e0\nson fusil, le ramasse et se plante l\u00e0.\n\u2014\u00abEh bien, lui dis-je, Vendredi, que voulez-vous faire maintenant?\nPourquoi ne tirez-vous pas?\u00bb\u2014\u00abPas tirer, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il, pas encore;\nmoi tirer maintenant, moi non tuer; moi rester, moi donner vous\nencore un rire.\u00bb\u2014Ce qu\u2019il fit en effet, comme on le verra tout \u00e0\nl\u2019heure.\u2014Quand l\u2019ours vit son ennemi d\u00e9log\u00e9, il d\u00e9serta de la branche\no\u00f9 il se tenait, mais excessivement lentement, regardant derri\u00e8re\nlui \u00e0 chaque pas et marchant \u00e0 reculons, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il e\u00fbt gagn\u00e9\nle corps de l\u2019arbre. Alors, toujours l\u2019arri\u00e8re-train en avant, il\ndescendit, s\u2019agrippant au tronc avec ses griffes et ne remuant qu\u2019une\npatte \u00e0 la fois, tr\u00e8s pos\u00e9ment. Juste \u00e0 l\u2019instant o\u00f9 il allait appuyer\nsa patte de derri\u00e8re sur le sol, Vendredi s\u2019avan\u00e7a sur lui, et, lui\nappliquant le canon de son fusil dans l\u2019oreille, il le fit tomber\nroide mort comme une pierre.\nAlors le maraud se retourna pour voir si nous n\u2019\u00e9tions pas \u00e0 rire;\net quand il lut sur nos visages que nous \u00e9tions fort satisfaits, il\npoussa lui-m\u00eame un grand ricanement, et nous dit: \u00abAinsi nous tue\nours dans ma contr\u00e9e.\u00bb\u2014\u00abVous les tuez ainsi? repris-je; comment! vous\nn\u2019avez pas de fusils?\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, dit-il, pas fusils; mais tirer grand\nbeaucoup longues fl\u00e8ches.\u00bb\nCeci fut vraiment un bon divertissement pour nous; mais nous nous\ntrouvions encore dans un lieu sauvage, notre guide \u00e9tait gri\u00e8vement\nbless\u00e9, et nous savions \u00e0 peine que faire. Les hurlements des loups\nretentissaient toujours dans ma t\u00eate; et dans le fait, except\u00e9 le\nbruit que j\u2019avais jadis entendu sur le rivage d\u2019Afrique, et dont j\u2019ai\ndit quelque chose d\u00e9j\u00e0, je n\u2019ai jamais rien ou\u00ef qui m\u2019ait rempli d\u2019une\nsi grande horreur.\nCes raisons, et l\u2019approche de la nuit, nous faisaient une loi de\npartir; autrement, comme l\u2019e\u00fbt souhait\u00e9 Vendredi, nous aurions\ncertainement d\u00e9pouill\u00e9 cette b\u00eate monstrueuse de sa robe, qui valait\nbien la peine d\u2019\u00eatre conserv\u00e9e; mais nous avions trois lieues \u00e0 faire,\net notre guide nous pressait. Nous abandonn\u00e2mes donc ce butin et\npoursuiv\u00eemes notre voyage.\nLa terre \u00e9tait toujours couverte de neige, bien que moins \u00e9paisse et\nmoins dangereuse que sur les montagnes. Des b\u00eates d\u00e9vorantes, comme\nnous l\u2019appr\u00eemes plus tard, \u00e9taient descendues dans la for\u00eat et dans le\npays plat, press\u00e9es par la faim, pour chercher leur p\u00e2ture, et avaient\nfait de grands ravages dans les hameaux, o\u00f9 elles avaient surpris les\nhabitants, tu\u00e9 un grand nombre de leurs moutons et de leurs chevaux,\net m\u00eame quelques personnes.\nNous avions \u00e0 passer un lieu dangereux dont nous parlait notre guide;\ns\u2019il y avait encore des loups dans le pays, nous devions \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr\nles rencontrer l\u00e0. C\u2019\u00e9tait une petite plaine, environn\u00e9e de bois de\ntous c\u00f4t\u00e9s, et un long et \u00e9troit d\u00e9fil\u00e9 o\u00f9 il fallait nous engager\npour traverser le bois et gagner le village, notre g\u00eete.\nUne demi-heure avant le coucher du soleil, nous entr\u00e2mes dans le\npremier bois, et \u00e0 soleil couch\u00e9 nous arriv\u00e2mes dans la plaine. Nous\nne rencontr\u00e2mes rien dans ce premier bois, si ce n\u2019est que dans une\npetite clairi\u00e8re, qui n\u2019avait pas plus d\u2019un quart de mille, nous\nv\u00eemes cinq grands loups traverser la route en toute h\u00e2te, l\u2019un apr\u00e8s\nl\u2019autre, comme s\u2019ils \u00e9taient en chasse de quelque proie qu\u2019ils avaient\nen vue. Ils ne firent pas attention \u00e0 nous, et disparurent en peu\nd\u2019instants.\nL\u00e0-dessus, notre guide, qui, soit dit en passant, \u00e9tait un mis\u00e9rable\npoltron, nous recommanda de nous mettre en d\u00e9fense; il croyait que\nbeaucoup d\u2019autres allaient venir.\nNous t\u00eenmes nos armes pr\u00eates et l\u2019\u0153il au guet; mais nous ne v\u00eemes plus\nde loups jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que nous e\u00fbmes p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 dans la plaine apr\u00e8s avoir\ntravers\u00e9 ce bois, qui avait pr\u00e8s d\u2019une demi-lieue. Aussit\u00f4t que nous\ny f\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s, nous ne manqu\u00e2mes pas de sujet de regarder autour\nde nous. Le premier objet qui nous frappa, ce fut un cheval mort,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire un pauvre cheval que les loups avaient tu\u00e9. Au moins\nune douzaine d\u2019entre eux \u00e9taient \u00e0 la besogne, on ne peut pas dire\nen train de le manger, mais plut\u00f4t de ronger les os, car ils avaient\nd\u00e9vor\u00e9 toute la chair auparavant.\nNous ne juge\u00e2mes point \u00e0 propos de troubler leur festin, et ils ne\nprirent pas garde \u00e0 nous. Vendredi aurait bien voulu tirer sur eux,\nmais je m\u2019y opposai formellement, pr\u00e9voyant que nous aurions sur les\nbras plus d\u2019affaires semblables que nous ne nous y attendions.\u2014Nous\nn\u2019avions pas encore travers\u00e9 la moiti\u00e9 de la plaine, quand, dans les\nbois, \u00e0 notre gauche, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 entendre les loups hurler\nd\u2019une mani\u00e8re effroyable, et aussit\u00f4t apr\u00e8s nous en v\u00eemes environ une\ncentaine venir droit \u00e0 nous, tous en corps, et la plupart d\u2019entre eux\nen ligne, aussi r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement qu\u2019une arm\u00e9e rang\u00e9e par des officiers\nexp\u00e9riment\u00e9s. Je savais \u00e0 peine que faire pour les recevoir. Il me\nsembla toutefois que le seul moyen \u00e9tait de nous serrer tous de front,\nce que nous ex\u00e9cut\u00e2mes sur-le-champ. Mais, pour qu\u2019entre les d\u00e9charges\nnous n\u2019eussions point trop d\u2019intervalle, je r\u00e9solus que seulement\nde deux hommes l\u2019un ferait feu, et que les autres, qui n\u2019auraient\npas tir\u00e9, se tiendraient pr\u00eats \u00e0 leur faire essuyer imm\u00e9diatement\nune seconde fusillade s\u2019ils continuaient d\u2019avancer sur nous; puis\nque ceux qui auraient l\u00e2ch\u00e9 leur coup d\u2019abord ne s\u2019amuseraient pas\n\u00e0 recharger leur fusil, mais s\u2019armeraient chacun d\u2019un pistolet, car\nnous \u00e9tions tous munis d\u2019un fusil et d\u2019une paire de pistolets. Ainsi\nnous pouvions par cette tactique faire six salves, la moiti\u00e9 de nous\ntirant \u00e0 la fois. N\u00e9anmoins, pour le moment, il n\u2019y eut pas n\u00e9cessit\u00e9:\n\u00e0 la premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge nos ennemis firent halte, \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s, stup\u00e9fi\u00e9s\ndu bruit autant que du feu. Quatre d\u2019entre eux, frapp\u00e9s \u00e0 la t\u00eate,\ntomb\u00e8rent morts; plusieurs autres furent bless\u00e9s et se retir\u00e8rent\ntout sanglants, comme nous p\u00fbmes le voir par la neige. Ils s\u2019\u00e9taient\narr\u00eat\u00e9s, mais ils ne battaient point en retraite. Me ressouvenant\nalors d\u2019avoir entendu dire que les plus farouches animaux \u00e9taient\njet\u00e9s dans l\u2019\u00e9pouvante \u00e0 la voix de l\u2019homme, j\u2019enjoignis \u00e0 tous nos\ncompagnons de crier aussi haut qu\u2019ils le pourraient, et je vis que\nle dicton n\u2019\u00e9tait pas absolument faux; car, \u00e0 ce cri, les loups\ncommenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 reculer et \u00e0 faire volte-face. Sur le coup j\u2019ordonnai\nde saluer leur arri\u00e8re-garde d\u2019une seconde d\u00e9charge, qui leur fit\nprendre le galop, et ils s\u2019enfuirent dans les bois.\nCeci nous donna le loisir de recharger nos armes, et, pour ne pas\nperdre de temps, nous le f\u00eemes en marchant. Mais \u00e0 peine e\u00fbmes-nous\nbourr\u00e9 nos fusils et repris la d\u00e9fensive, que nous entend\u00eemes un bruit\nterrible dans le m\u00eame bois, \u00e0 notre gauche; seulement c\u2019\u00e9tait plus\nloin, en avant, sur la route que nous devions suivre.\nLa nuit approchait et commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se faire noire, ce qui empirait\nnotre situation; et, comme le bruit croissait, nous pouvions ais\u00e9ment\nreconna\u00eetre les cris et les hurlements de ces b\u00eates infernales.\nSoudain nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes deux ou trois troupes de loups sur notre\ngauche, une derri\u00e8re nous et une \u00e0 notre front, de sorte que nous en\nsemblions environn\u00e9s. N\u00e9anmoins, comme elles ne nous assaillaient\npoint, nous pouss\u00e2mes en avant aussi vite que pouvaient aller nos\nchevaux, ce qui, \u00e0 cause de l\u2019\u00e2pret\u00e9 du chemin, n\u2019\u00e9tait tout bonnement\nqu\u2019un grand trot. De cette mani\u00e8re nous v\u00eenmes au del\u00e0 de la plaine,\nen vue de l\u2019entr\u00e9e du bois \u00e0 travers lequel nous devions passer; mais\nnotre surprise fut grande quand, arriv\u00e9s au d\u00e9fil\u00e9, nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes,\njuste \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e, un nombre \u00e9norme de loups \u00e0 l\u2019aff\u00fbt.\nTout \u00e0 coup vers une autre perc\u00e9e du bois nous entend\u00eemes la\nd\u00e9tonation d\u2019un fusil; et comme nous regardions de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, apparut un\ncheval, sell\u00e9 et brid\u00e9, fuyant comme le vent, et ayant \u00e0 ses trousses\nseize ou dix-sept loups haletants: en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, il les avait sur ses\ntalons. Comme nous ne pouvions supposer qu\u2019il tiendrait \u00e0 cette\nvitesse, nous ne m\u00eemes pas en doute qu\u2019ils finiraient par le joindre;\ninfailliblement il en a d\u00fb \u00eatre ainsi.\nUn spectacle plus horrible encore vint alors frapper nos regards:\nayant gagn\u00e9 la perc\u00e9e d\u2019o\u00f9 le cheval \u00e9tait sorti, nous trouv\u00e2mes les\ncadavres d\u2019un autre cheval et de deux hommes d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par ces b\u00eates\ncruelles. L\u2019un de ces hommes \u00e9tait sans doute le m\u00eame que nous avions\nentendu tirer une arme \u00e0 feu, car il avait pr\u00e8s de lui un fusil\nd\u00e9charg\u00e9. Sa t\u00eate et la partie sup\u00e9rieure de son corps \u00e9taient rong\u00e9es.\nCette vue nous remplit d\u2019horreur, et nous ne savions o\u00f9 porter nos\npas; mais ces animaux, all\u00e9ch\u00e9s par la proie, tranch\u00e8rent bient\u00f4t\nla question en se rassemblant autour de nous. Sur l\u2019honneur, il y\nen avait bien trois cents!\u2014Il se trouvait, fort heureusement pour\nnous, \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e du bois, mais \u00e0 une petite distance, quelques gros\narbres propres \u00e0 la charpente, abattus l\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9 d\u2019auparavant, et qui,\nje le suppose, gisaient l\u00e0 en attendant qu\u2019on les charri\u00e2t. Je menai\nma petite troupe au milieu de ces arbres, nous nous range\u00e2mes en\nligne derri\u00e8re le plus long, j\u2019engageai tout le monde \u00e0 mettre pied \u00e0\nterre, et, gardant ce tronc devant nous comme un parapet, \u00e0 former un\ntriangle ou trois fronts, renfermant nos chevaux dans le centre.\nNous f\u00eemes ainsi et nous f\u00eemes bien, car jamais il ne fut plus\nfurieuse charge que celle qu\u2019ex\u00e9cut\u00e8rent sur nous ces animaux quand\nnous f\u00fbmes en ce lieu: ils se pr\u00e9cipit\u00e8rent en grondant, mont\u00e8rent\nsur la pi\u00e8ce de bois qui nous servait de parapet, comme s\u2019ils se\njetaient sur leur proie. Cette fureur, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, \u00e9tait\nsurtout excit\u00e9e par la vue des chevaux plac\u00e9s derri\u00e8re nous: c\u2019\u00e9tait\nl\u00e0 la cur\u00e9e qu\u2019ils convoitaient. J\u2019ordonnai \u00e0 nos hommes de faire\nfeu comme auparavant, de deux hommes l\u2019un, et ils ajust\u00e8rent si bien\nqu\u2019ils tu\u00e8rent plusieurs loups \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge; mais il fut\nn\u00e9cessaire de faire un feu roulant, car ils avan\u00e7aient sur nous comme\ndes diables, ceux de derri\u00e8re poussant ceux de devant.\n[Illustration: Ils se pr\u00e9cipit\u00e8rent en grondant...]\nApr\u00e8s notre seconde fusillade, nous pens\u00e2mes qu\u2019ils s\u2019arr\u00eateraient un\npeu, et j\u2019esp\u00e9rais qu\u2019ils allaient battre en retraite; mais ce ne fut\nqu\u2019une lueur, car d\u2019autres s\u2019\u00e9lanc\u00e8rent de nouveau. Nous f\u00eemes donc\nnos salves de pistolets. Je crois que dans ces quatre d\u00e9charges nous\nen tu\u00e2mes bien dix-sept ou dix-huit et que nous en estropi\u00e2mes le\ndouble. N\u00e9anmoins ils ne quittaient pas la place.\nJe ne me souciais pas de tirer notre dernier coup trop \u00e0 la h\u00e2te.\nJ\u2019appelai donc mon domestique, non pas mon serviteur Vendredi, il\n\u00e9tait mieux employ\u00e9: durant l\u2019engagement il avait, avec la plus grande\ndext\u00e9rit\u00e9 imaginable, charg\u00e9 mon fusil et le sien; mais, comme je\ndisais, j\u2019appelai mon autre serviteur, et, lui donnant une corne \u00e0\npoudre, je lui ordonnai de faire une grande tra\u00een\u00e9e le long de la\npi\u00e8ce de charpente. Il ob\u00e9it et n\u2019avait eu que le temps de s\u2019en aller,\nquand les loups y revinrent, et quelques-uns \u00e9taient mont\u00e9s dessus,\nlorsque, l\u00e2chant pr\u00e8s de la poudre le chien d\u2019un pistolet d\u00e9charg\u00e9,\nj\u2019y mis le feu. Ceux qui se trouvaient sur la charpente furent\ngrill\u00e9s, et six ou sept d\u2019entre eux tomb\u00e8rent ou plut\u00f4t saut\u00e8rent\nparmi nous, soit par la force ou par la peur du feu. Nous les\nd\u00e9p\u00each\u00e2mes en un clin d\u2019\u0153il; et les autres furent si effray\u00e9s de cette\nexplosion, que la nuit fort pr\u00e8s alors d\u2019\u00eatre close rendit encore plus\nterrible, qu\u2019ils se recul\u00e8rent un peu.\nL\u00e0-dessus je commandai de faire une d\u00e9charge g\u00e9n\u00e9rale de nos derniers\npistolets; apr\u00e8s quoi nous jet\u00e2mes un cri. Les loups alors nous\nmontr\u00e8rent les talons, et aussit\u00f4t nous f\u00eemes une sortie sur une\nvingtaine d\u2019estropi\u00e9s que nous trouv\u00e2mes se d\u00e9battant par terre, et\nque nous achev\u00e2mes \u00e0 coups de sabre, ce qui r\u00e9pondit \u00e0 notre attente;\ncar les cris et les hurlements qu\u2019ils pouss\u00e8rent furent entendus par\nleurs camarades, si bien qu\u2019ils prirent cong\u00e9 de nous et s\u2019enfuirent.\nNous en avions en tout exp\u00e9di\u00e9 une soixantaine, et si c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 en\nplein jour nous en aurions tu\u00e9 bien davantage. Le champ de bataille\n\u00e9tant ainsi d\u00e9blay\u00e9, nous nous rem\u00eemes en route, car nous avions\nencore pr\u00e8s d\u2019une lieue \u00e0 faire. Plusieurs fois chemin faisant nous\nentend\u00eemes ces b\u00eates d\u00e9vorantes hurler et crier dans les bois, et\nplusieurs fois nous nous imagin\u00e2mes en voir quelques-unes; mais, nos\nyeux \u00e9tant \u00e9blouis par la neige, nous n\u2019en \u00e9tions pas certains. Une\nheure apr\u00e8s nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 nous devions loger. Nous\ny trouv\u00e2mes la population glac\u00e9e d\u2019effroi et sous les armes, car la\nnuit d\u2019auparavant les loups et quelques ours s\u2019\u00e9taient jet\u00e9s dans le\nvillage et y avaient port\u00e9 l\u2019\u00e9pouvante. Les habitants \u00e9taient forc\u00e9s\nde faire le guet nuit et jour, mais surtout la nuit, pour d\u00e9fendre\nleur b\u00e9tail et se d\u00e9fendre eux-m\u00eames.\nLe lendemain notre guide \u00e9tait si mal et ses membres si enfl\u00e9s par\nl\u2019apost\u00e8me de ses deux blessures, qu\u2019il ne put aller plus loin. L\u00e0\nnous f\u00fbmes donc oblig\u00e9s d\u2019en prendre un nouveau pour nous conduire\n\u00e0 Toulouse, o\u00f9 nous ne trouv\u00e2mes ni neige, ni loups, ni rien de\nsemblable, mais un climat chaud et un pays agr\u00e9able et fertile.\nLorsque nous racont\u00e2mes notre aventure \u00e0 Toulouse, on nous dit que\nrien n\u2019\u00e9tait plus ordinaire dans ces grandes for\u00eats au pied des\nmontagnes, surtout quand la terre \u00e9tait couverte de neige. On nous\ndemanda beaucoup quelle esp\u00e8ce de guide nous avions trouv\u00e9 pour oser\nnous mener par cette route dans une saison si rigoureuse, et on nous\ndit qu\u2019il \u00e9tait fort heureux que nous n\u2019eussions pas \u00e9t\u00e9 tous d\u00e9vor\u00e9s.\nAu r\u00e9cit que nous f\u00eemes de la mani\u00e8re dont nous nous \u00e9tions plac\u00e9s\navec les chevaux au milieu de nous, on nous bl\u00e2ma excessivement, et\non nous affirma qu\u2019il y aurait eu cinquante \u00e0 gager contre un que\nnous eussions d\u00fb p\u00e9rir; car c\u2019\u00e9tait la vue des chevaux qui avait\nrendu les loups si furieux: ils les consid\u00e9raient comme leur proie;\nqu\u2019en toute autre occasion ils auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 assur\u00e9ment effray\u00e9s de\nnos fusils; mais, qu\u2019enrageant de faim, leur violente envie d\u2019arriver\njusqu\u2019aux chevaux les avait rendus insensibles au danger, et si, par\nun feu roulant et \u00e0 la fin par le stratag\u00e8me de la tra\u00een\u00e9e de poudre,\nnous n\u2019en \u00e9tions venus \u00e0 bout, qu\u2019il y avait gros \u00e0 parier que nous\naurions \u00e9t\u00e9 mis en pi\u00e8ces; tandis que, si nous fussions demeur\u00e9s\ntranquillement \u00e0 cheval et eussions fait feu comme des cavaliers, ils\nn\u2019auraient pas autant regard\u00e9 les chevaux comme leur proie, voyant des\nhommes sur leur dos. Enfin on ajoutait que si nous avions mis pied \u00e0\nterre et avions abandonn\u00e9 nos chevaux, ils se seraient jet\u00e9s dessus\navec tant d\u2019acharnement que nous aurions pu nous \u00e9loigner sains et\nsaufs, surtout ayant en main des armes \u00e0 feu et nous trouvant en si\ngrand nombre.\nPour ma part, je n\u2019eus jamais de ma vie un sentiment plus profond\ndu danger; car, lorsque je vis plus de trois cents de ces b\u00eates\ninfernales, poussant des rugissements et la gueule b\u00e9ante, s\u2019avancer\npour nous d\u00e9vorer, sans que nous eussions rien pour nous r\u00e9fugier\nou nous donner retraite, j\u2019avais cru que c\u2019en \u00e9tait fait de moi.\nN\u2019importe! je ne pense pas que je me soucie jamais de traverser les\nmontagnes; j\u2019aimerais mieux faire mille lieues en mer, fuss\u00e9-je s\u00fbr\nd\u2019essuyer une temp\u00eate par semaine.\nRien qui m\u00e9rite mention ne signala mon passage \u00e0 travers la France,\nrien du moins dont d\u2019autres voyageurs n\u2019aient donn\u00e9 le r\u00e9cit\ninfiniment mieux que je ne le saurais. Je me rendis de Toulouse \u00e0\nParis; puis, sans faire nulle part un long s\u00e9jour, je gagnai Calais,\net d\u00e9barquai en bonne sant\u00e9 \u00e0 Douvres, le 14 janvier, apr\u00e8s avoir eu\nune \u00e2pre et froide saison pour voyager.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais parvenu alors au terme de mon voyage, et en peu de temps\nj\u2019eus autour de moi toutes mes richesses nouvellement recouvr\u00e9es, les\nlettres de change dont j\u2019\u00e9tais porteur ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 pay\u00e9es couramment.\nMon principal guide et conseiller priv\u00e9 ce fut ma bonne vieille\nveuve, qui, en reconnaissance de l\u2019argent que je lui avais envoy\u00e9,\nne trouvait ni peines trop grandes ni soins trop on\u00e9reux quand il\ns\u2019agissait de moi. Je mis pour toutes choses ma confiance en elle si\ncompl\u00e8tement, que je fus parfaitement tranquille quant \u00e0 la s\u00fbret\u00e9 de\nmon avoir; et, par le fait, depuis le commencement jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la fin,\nje n\u2019eus qu\u2019\u00e0 me f\u00e9liciter de l\u2019inviolable int\u00e9grit\u00e9 de cette bonne\ngentlewoman.\nJ\u2019eus alors la pens\u00e9e de laisser mon avoir \u00e0 cette femme, et de passer\n\u00e0 Lisbonne, puis de l\u00e0 au Br\u00e9sil; mais de nouveaux scrupules religieux\nvinrent m\u2019en d\u00e9tourner.\u2014Je pris donc le parti de demeurer dans ma\npatrie, et, si j\u2019en pouvais trouver le moyen, de me d\u00e9faire de ma\nplantation[19].\nDans ce dessein j\u2019\u00e9crivis \u00e0 mon vieil ami de Lisbonne. Il me r\u00e9pondit\nqu\u2019il trouverait ais\u00e9ment \u00e0 vendre ma plantation dans le pays; mais\nque, si je consentais \u00e0 ce qu\u2019au Br\u00e9sil il l\u2019offr\u00eet en mon nom aux\ndeux marchands, les survivants de mes curateurs, que je savais\nfort riches, et qui, se trouvant sur les lieux, en connaissaient\nparfaitement la valeur, il \u00e9tait s\u00fbr qu\u2019ils seraient enchant\u00e9s d\u2019en\nfaire l\u2019acquisition, et ne mettait pas en doute que je ne pusse en\ntirer au moins 4 ou 5,000 pi\u00e8ces de huit.\nJ\u2019y consentis donc et lui donnai pour cette offre mes instructions,\nqu\u2019il suivit. Au bout de huit mois, le b\u00e2timent \u00e9tant de retour, il me\nfit savoir que la proposition avait \u00e9t\u00e9 accept\u00e9e, et qu\u2019ils avaient\nadress\u00e9 33,000 pi\u00e8ces de huit \u00e0 l\u2019un de leurs correspondants \u00e0\nLisbonne pour effectuer le paiement.\nDe mon c\u00f4t\u00e9, je signai l\u2019acte de vente en forme qu\u2019on m\u2019avait exp\u00e9di\u00e9\nde Lisbonne, et je le fis passer \u00e0 mon vieil ami, qui m\u2019envoya\ndes lettres de change pour 32,800 pi\u00e8ces de huit[20], prix de ma\npropri\u00e9t\u00e9, se r\u00e9servant le paiement annuel de 100 moidores pour lui,\net plus tard pour son fils celui viager de 50 moidores[21], que je\nleur avais promis et dont la plantation r\u00e9pondait comme d\u2019une rente\ninf\u00e9od\u00e9e.\u2014Voici que j\u2019ai donn\u00e9 la premi\u00e8re partie de ma vie de fortune\net d\u2019aventures, vie qu\u2019on pourrait appeler une marqueterie de la\nProvidence, vie d\u2019une bigarrure telle que le monde en pourra rarement\noffrir de semblable. Elle commen\u00e7a follement, mais elle finit plus\nheureusement qu\u2019aucune de ses circonstances ne m\u2019avait donn\u00e9 lieu de\nl\u2019esp\u00e9rer.\nOn pensera que, dans cet \u00e9tat complet de bonheur, je renon\u00e7ai \u00e0\ncourir de nouveaux hasards, et il en e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi par le fait si\nmes alentours m\u2019y eussent aid\u00e9; mais j\u2019\u00e9tais accoutum\u00e9 \u00e0 une vie\nvagabonde: je n\u2019avais point de famille, point de parents; et, quoique\nje fusse riche, je n\u2019avais pas beaucoup de connaissances.\u2014Je m\u2019\u00e9tais\nd\u00e9fait de ma plantation au Br\u00e9sil: cependant ce pays ne pouvait me\nsortir de la t\u00eate, et j\u2019avais une grande envie de reprendre ma vol\u00e9e;\nje ne pouvais surtout r\u00e9sister au violent d\u00e9sir que j\u2019avais de revoir\nmon \u00eele, de savoir si les pauvres Espagnols l\u2019habitaient, et comment\nles sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats que j\u2019y avais laiss\u00e9s en avaient us\u00e9 avec eux[22]!\nMa fid\u00e8le amie la veuve me d\u00e9conseilla de cela, et m\u2019influen\u00e7a si bien\nque pendant environ sept ans elle pr\u00e9vint mes courses lointaines.\nDurant ce temps je pris sous ma tutelle mes deux neveux, fils d\u2019un de\nmes fr\u00e8res. L\u2019a\u00een\u00e9 ayant quelque bien, je l\u2019\u00e9levai comme un gentleman,\net pour ajouter \u00e0 son aisance je lui constituai un legs apr\u00e8s ma\nmort. Le cadet, je le confiai \u00e0 un capitaine de navire, et au bout de\ncinq ans, trouvant en lui un gar\u00e7on judicieux, brave et entreprenant,\nje lui confiai un bon vaisseau et je l\u2019envoyai en mer. Ce jeune\nhomme m\u2019entra\u00eena moi-m\u00eame plus tard, tout vieux que j\u2019\u00e9tais, dans de\nnouvelles aventures.\nCependant je m\u2019\u00e9tablis ici en partie, car premi\u00e8rement je me mariai,\net cela non \u00e0 mon d\u00e9savantage ou \u00e0 mon d\u00e9plaisir. J\u2019eus trois enfants,\ndeux fils et une fille; mais ma femme \u00e9tant morte et mon neveu\nrevenant \u00e0 la maison apr\u00e8s un fort heureux voyage en Espagne, mes\ninclinations \u00e0 courir le monde et ses importunit\u00e9s pr\u00e9valurent, et\nm\u2019engag\u00e8rent \u00e0 m\u2019embarquer dans son navire comme simple n\u00e9gociant pour\nles Indes Orientales. Ce fut en l\u2019ann\u00e9e 1694.\nDans ce voyage je visitai ma nouvelle colonie dans l\u2019\u00eele, je vis\nmes successeurs les Espagnols, j\u2019appris toute l\u2019histoire de leur\nvie et celle des vauriens que j\u2019y avais laiss\u00e9s: comment d\u2019abord\nils insult\u00e8rent les pauvres Espagnols, comment plus tard ils\ns\u2019accord\u00e8rent, se brouill\u00e8rent, s\u2019unirent et se s\u00e9par\u00e8rent, et comment\n\u00e0 la fin les Espagnols furent oblig\u00e9s d\u2019user de violence; comment ils\nfurent soumis par les Espagnols, combien les Espagnols en us\u00e8rent\nhonn\u00eatement avec eux. C\u2019est une histoire, si elle \u00e9tait \u00e9crite, aussi\npleine de vari\u00e9t\u00e9 et d\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nements merveilleux que la mienne, surtout\naussi quant \u00e0 leurs batailles avec les Caribes qui d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent\ndans l\u2019\u00eele, et quant aux am\u00e9liorations qu\u2019ils apport\u00e8rent \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eele\nelle-m\u00eame. Enfin, j\u2019appris encore comment trois d\u2019entre eux firent une\ntentative sur la terre ferme et ramen\u00e8rent cinq femmes et onze hommes\nprisonniers, ce qui fit qu\u2019\u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e je trouvai une vingtaine\nd\u2019enfants dans l\u2019\u00eele.\nJ\u2019y s\u00e9journai vingt jours environ et j\u2019y laissai de bonnes provisions\nde toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires, principalement des armes, de la poudre,\ndes balles, des v\u00eatements, des outils et deux artisans que j\u2019avais\namen\u00e9s d\u2019Angleterre avec moi, nomm\u00e9ment un charpentier et un forgeron.\nEn outre, je leur partageai le territoire: je me r\u00e9servai la propri\u00e9t\u00e9\nde tout, mais je leur donnai respectivement telles parts qui leur\nconvenaient. Ayant arr\u00eat\u00e9 toutes ces choses avec eux et les ayant\nengag\u00e9s \u00e0 ne pas quitter l\u2019\u00eele, je les y laissai.\nDe l\u00e0 je touchai au Br\u00e9sil, d\u2019o\u00f9 j\u2019envoyai une embarcation que j\u2019y\nachetai et de nouveaux habitants pour la colonie. En plus des autres\nsubsides, je leur adressais sept femmes que j\u2019avais trouv\u00e9es propres\npour le service ou pour le mariage si quelqu\u2019un en voulait. Quant\naux Anglais, je leur avais promis, s\u2019ils voulaient s\u2019adonner \u00e0 la\nculture, de leur envoyer des femmes d\u2019Angleterre avec une bonne\ncargaison d\u2019objets de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, ce que plus tard je ne pus effectuer.\nCes gar\u00e7ons devinrent tr\u00e8s honn\u00eates et tr\u00e8s diligents apr\u00e8s qu\u2019on\nles eut dompt\u00e9s et qu\u2019ils eurent \u00e9tabli \u00e0 part leurs propri\u00e9t\u00e9s. Je\nleur exp\u00e9diai aussi du Br\u00e9sil cinq vaches dont trois pr\u00e8s de v\u00ealer,\nquelques moutons et quelques porcs, qui, lorsque je revins, s\u2019\u00e9taient\nconsid\u00e9rablement multipli\u00e9s.\nMais de toutes ces choses, et de la mani\u00e8re dont 300 Caribes firent\nune invasion et ruin\u00e8rent leurs plantations; de la mani\u00e8re dont ils\nlivr\u00e8rent contre cette multitude de sauvages deux batailles, o\u00f9\nd\u2019abord ils furent d\u00e9faits et perdirent un des leurs; puis enfin, une\ntemp\u00eate ayant submerg\u00e9 les canots de leurs ennemis, de la mani\u00e8re\ndont ils les affam\u00e8rent, les d\u00e9truisirent presque tous, restaur\u00e8rent\nleurs plantations, en reprirent possession et v\u00e9curent paisiblement\ndans l\u2019\u00eele[23].\nDe toutes ces choses, dis-je, et de quelques incidents surprenants\nde mes nouvelles aventures durant encore dix ann\u00e9es, je donnerai une\nrelation plus circonstanci\u00e9e ci-apr\u00e8s.\nCe proverbe na\u00eff si usit\u00e9 en Angleterre, CE QUI EST ENGENDR\u00c9 DANS L\u2019OS\nNE SORTIRA PAS DE LA CHAIR[24], ne s\u2019est jamais mieux v\u00e9rifi\u00e9 que dans\nl\u2019histoire de ma vie. On pourrait penser qu\u2019apr\u00e8s trente-cinq ann\u00e9es\nd\u2019affliction et une multiplicit\u00e9 d\u2019infortunes que peu d\u2019hommes avant\nmoi, pas un seul peut-\u00eatre, n\u2019avait essuy\u00e9es, et qu\u2019apr\u00e8s environ sept\nann\u00e9es de paix et de jouissance dans l\u2019abondance de toutes choses,\ndevenu vieux alors, je devais \u00eatre \u00e0 m\u00eame ou jamais d\u2019appr\u00e9cier tous\nles \u00e9tats de la vie moyenne et de conna\u00eetre le plus propre \u00e0 rendre\nl\u2019homme compl\u00e8tement heureux. Apr\u00e8s tout ceci, dis-je, on pourrait\npenser que la propension naturelle \u00e0 courir, qu\u2019\u00e0 mon entr\u00e9e dans le\nmonde j\u2019ai signal\u00e9e comme si pr\u00e9dominante en mon esprit, \u00e9tait us\u00e9e;\nque la partie volatile de mon cerveau \u00e9tait \u00e9vapor\u00e9e ou tout au moins\ncondens\u00e9e, et qu\u2019\u00e0 soixante et un ans d\u2019\u00e2ge j\u2019aurais le go\u00fbt quelque\npeu casanier, et aurais renonc\u00e9 \u00e0 hasarder davantage ma vie et ma\nfortune.\nQui plus est, le commun motif des entreprises lointaines n\u2019existait\npoint pour moi: je n\u2019avais point de fortune \u00e0 faire, je n\u2019avais rien\n\u00e0 rechercher; euss\u00e9-je gagn\u00e9 10,000 livres sterling, je n\u2019eusse pas\n\u00e9t\u00e9 plus riche: j\u2019avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 du bien \u00e0 ma suffisance et \u00e0 celle de\nmes h\u00e9ritiers, et ce que je poss\u00e9dais accroissait \u00e0 vue d\u2019\u0153il; car,\nn\u2019ayant pas une famille nombreuse, je n\u2019aurais pu d\u00e9penser mon revenu\nqu\u2019en me donnant un grand train de vie, une suite brillante, des\n\u00e9quipages, du faste et autres choses semblables, aussi \u00e9trang\u00e8res \u00e0\nmes habitudes qu\u2019\u00e0 mes inclinations. Je n\u2019avais donc rien \u00e0 faire qu\u2019\u00e0\ndemeurer tranquille, \u00e0 jouir pleinement de ce que j\u2019avais acquis et \u00e0\nle voir fructifier chaque jour entre mes mains.\nAucune de ces choses cependant n\u2019eut d\u2019effet sur moi, ou du moins\nassez pour \u00e9touffer le violent penchant que j\u2019avais \u00e0 courir de\nnouveau le monde, penchant qui m\u2019\u00e9tait inh\u00e9rent comme une maladie\nchronique. Voir ma nouvelle plantation dans l\u2019\u00eele, et la colonie que\nj\u2019y avais laiss\u00e9e, \u00e9tait le d\u00e9sir qui roulait le plus incessamment\ndans ma t\u00eate. Je r\u00eavais de cela toute la nuit et mon imagination\ns\u2019en ber\u00e7ait tout le jour. C\u2019\u00e9tait le point culminant de toutes mes\npens\u00e9es, et mon cerveau travaillait cette id\u00e9e avec tant de fixit\u00e9 et\nde contention que j\u2019en parlais dans mon sommeil. Bref, rien ne pouvait\nla bannir de mon esprit; elle envahissait si tyranniquement tous mes\nentretiens, que ma conversation en devenait fastidieuse; impossible \u00e0\nmoi de parler d\u2019autre chose: tous mes discours rab\u00e2chaient l\u00e0-dessus\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019impertinence, \u00e0 tel point que je m\u2019en aper\u00e7us moi-m\u00eame.\nJ\u2019ai souvent entendu dire \u00e0 des personnes de grand sens que tous les\nbruits accr\u00e9dit\u00e9s dans le monde sur les spectres et les apparitions\nsont dus \u00e0 la force de l\u2019imagination et au puissant effet de\nl\u2019illusion sur nos esprits; qu\u2019il n\u2019y a ni revenants, ni fant\u00f4mes\nerrants, ni rien de semblable, qu\u2019\u00e0 force de repasser passionn\u00e9ment\nla vie et les m\u0153urs de nos amis qui ne sont plus, nous nous les\nrepr\u00e9sentons si bien qu\u2019il nous est possible, en des circonstances\nextraordinaires, de nous figurer les voir, leur parler et en recevoir\ndes r\u00e9ponses, quand au fond dans tout cela il n\u2019y a qu\u2019ombre et\nvapeur.\u2014Et, par le fait, c\u2019est chose fort incompr\u00e9hensible.\nPour ma part, je ne sais encore \u00e0 cette heure s\u2019il y a de r\u00e9elles\napparitions, des spectres, des promenades de gens apr\u00e8s leur mort, ou\nsi dans toutes les histoires de ce genre qu\u2019on nous raconte il n\u2019y a\nrien qui ne soit le produit des vapeurs, des esprits malades et des\nimaginations \u00e9gar\u00e9es; mais ce que je sais, c\u2019est que mon imagination\ntravaillait \u00e0 un tel degr\u00e9 et me plongeait dans un tel exc\u00e8s de\nvapeurs, ou qu\u2019on appelle cela comme on voudra, que souvent je me\ncroyais \u00eatre sur les lieux m\u00eames, \u00e0 mon vieux ch\u00e2teau derri\u00e8re les\narbres, et voyais mon premier Espagnol, le p\u00e8re de Vendredi et les\ninf\u00e2mes matelots que j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9s dans l\u2019\u00eele. Je me figurais m\u00eame\nque je leur parlais; et bien que je fusse tout \u00e0 fait \u00e9veill\u00e9, je les\nregardais fixement comme s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 en personne devant moi.\nJ\u2019en vins souvent \u00e0 m\u2019effrayer moi-m\u00eame des objets qu\u2019enfantait mon\ncerveau.\u2014Une fois, dans mon sommeil, le premier Espagnol et le p\u00e8re de\nVendredi me peignirent si vivement la sc\u00e9l\u00e9ratesse des trois corsaires\nde matelots, que c\u2019\u00e9tait merveille. Ils me racontaient que ces\nmis\u00e9rables avaient tent\u00e9 cruellement de massacrer tous les Espagnols,\net qu\u2019ils avaient mis le feu aux provisions par eux amass\u00e9es, \u00e0\ndessein de les r\u00e9duire \u00e0 l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 et de les faire mourir de faim,\nchoses qui ne m\u2019avaient jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 dites, et qui pourtant en fait\n\u00e9taient toutes vraies. J\u2019en \u00e9tais tellement frapp\u00e9, et c\u2019\u00e9tait si\nr\u00e9el pour moi, qu\u2019\u00e0 cette heure je les voyais et ne pouvais qu\u2019\u00eatre\npersuad\u00e9 que cela \u00e9tait vrai ou devait l\u2019\u00eatre. Aussi quelle n\u2019\u00e9tait\npas mon indignation quand l\u2019Espagnol faisait ses plaintes, et comme je\nleur rendais justice en les traduisant devant moi et les condamnant\ntous trois \u00e0 \u00eatre pendus! On verra en son lieu ce que l\u00e0 dedans il y\navait de r\u00e9el; car quelle que f\u00fbt la cause de ce songe et quels que\nfussent les esprits secrets et familiers qui me l\u2019inspirassent, il s\u2019y\ntrouvait, dis-je, toutefois beaucoup de choses exactes. J\u2019avoue que\nce r\u00eave n\u2019avait rien de vrai \u00e0 la lettre et dans ses particularit\u00e9s;\nmais l\u2019ensemble en \u00e9tait si vrai, l\u2019inf\u00e2me et perfide conduite de\nces trois fieff\u00e9s coquins ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 tellement au del\u00e0 de tout ce que\nje puis dire, que mon songe n\u2019approchait que trop de la r\u00e9alit\u00e9, et\nque si plus tard je les eusse punis s\u00e9v\u00e8rement et fait pendre tous,\nj\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans mon droit et justifiable devant Dieu et devant les\nhommes.\nMais revenons \u00e0 mon histoire. Je v\u00e9cus quelques ann\u00e9es dans cette\nsituation d\u2019esprit: pour moi nulle jouissance de la vie, point\nd\u2019heures agr\u00e9ables, de diversion attachante, qui ne tinssent en\nquelque chose \u00e0 mon id\u00e9e fixe; \u00e0 tel point que ma femme, voyant\nmon esprit si uniquement pr\u00e9occup\u00e9, me dit un soir tr\u00e8s gravement\nqu\u2019\u00e0 son avis j\u2019\u00e9tais sous le coup de quelque impulsion secr\u00e8te et\npuissante de la Providence, qui avait d\u00e9cr\u00e9t\u00e9 mon retour l\u00e0-bas, et\nqu\u2019elle ne voyait rien qui s\u2019oppos\u00e2t \u00e0 mon d\u00e9part que mes obligations\nenvers une femme et des enfants. Elle ajouta qu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 elle ne\npouvait songer \u00e0 aller avec moi; mais que, comme elle \u00e9tait s\u00fbre\nque si elle venait \u00e0 mourir, ce voyage serait la premi\u00e8re chose que\nj\u2019entreprendrais, et que, comme cette chose lui semblait d\u00e9cid\u00e9e\nl\u00e0-haut, elle ne voulait pas \u00eatre l\u2019unique emp\u00eachement; car, si je\nle jugeais convenable et que je fusse r\u00e9solu \u00e0 partir... Ici elle me\nvit si attentif \u00e0 ses paroles et la regarder si fixement, qu\u2019elle\nse d\u00e9concerta un peu et s\u2019arr\u00eata. Je lui demandai pourquoi elle ne\ncontinuait point et n\u2019achevait pas ce qu\u2019elle allait me dire; mais je\nm\u2019aper\u00e7us que son c\u0153ur \u00e9tait trop plein et que des larmes roulaient\ndans ses yeux.\n\u2014\u00abParlez, ma ch\u00e8re, lui dis-je, souhaitez-vous que je parte?\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon,\nr\u00e9pondit-elle affectueusement, je suis loin de le d\u00e9sirer; mais si\nvous \u00eates d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 partir, plut\u00f4t que d\u2019y \u00eatre l\u2019unique obstacle,\nje partirai avec vous. Quoique je consid\u00e8re cela comme une chose\nd\u00e9plac\u00e9e pour quelqu\u2019un de votre \u00e2ge et dans votre position, si cela\ndoit \u00eatre, redisait-elle en pleurant, je ne vous abandonnerai point.\nSi c\u2019est la volont\u00e9 c\u00e9leste, vous devez ob\u00e9ir. Point de r\u00e9sistance;\net si le ciel vous fait un devoir de partir, il m\u2019en fera un de vous\nsuivre; autrement il disposera de moi, afin que je ne rompe pas ce\ndessein.\u00bb\nCette conduite affectueuse de ma femme m\u2019enleva un peu \u00e0 mes\nvapeurs, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ce que je faisais. Je r\u00e9primai\nma fantaisie vagabonde, et je me pris \u00e0 discuter avec moi-m\u00eame\npos\u00e9ment.\u2014\u00abQuel besoin as-tu, \u00e0 plus de soixante ans, apr\u00e8s une vie\nde longues souffrances et d\u2019infortunes, close d\u2019une si heureuse et\nsi douce mani\u00e8re, quel besoin as-tu, me disais-je, de t\u2019exposer \u00e0\nde nouveaux hasards, de te jeter dans des aventures qui conviennent\nseulement \u00e0 la jeunesse et \u00e0 la pauvret\u00e9?\u00bb\nDans ces sentiments, je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis \u00e0 mes nouveaux liens: j\u2019avais une\nfemme, un enfant, et ma femme en portait un autre; j\u2019avais tout ce que\nle monde pouvait me donner, et nullement besoin de chercher fortune\n\u00e0 travers les dangers. J\u2019\u00e9tais sur le d\u00e9clin de mes ans, et devais\nplut\u00f4t songer \u00e0 quitter qu\u2019\u00e0 accro\u00eetre ce que j\u2019avais acquis. Quant\n\u00e0 ce que m\u2019avait dit ma femme, que ce penchant \u00e9tait une impulsion\nvenant du ciel, et qu\u2019il serait de mon devoir de partir, je n\u2019y eus\npoint \u00e9gard. Apr\u00e8s beaucoup de consid\u00e9rations semblables, j\u2019en vins\ndonc aux prises avec le pouvoir de mon imagination, je me raisonnai\npour m\u2019y arracher, comme on peut toujours faire, il me semble, en\npareilles circonstances, si on en a le vouloir. Bref, je sortis\nvainqueur: je me calmai \u00e0 l\u2019aide des arguments qui se pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent \u00e0\nmon esprit, et que ma condition d\u2019alors me fournissait en abondance.\nParticuli\u00e8rement, comme la m\u00e9thode la plus efficace, je r\u00e9solus de me\ndistraire par d\u2019autres choses, et de m\u2019engager dans quelque affaire\nqui p\u00fbt me d\u00e9tourner compl\u00e8tement de toute excursion de ce genre;\ncar je m\u2019\u00e9tais aper\u00e7u que ces id\u00e9es m\u2019assaillaient principalement\nquand j\u2019\u00e9tais oisif, que je n\u2019avais rien \u00e0 faire ou du moins rien\nd\u2019important imm\u00e9diatement devant moi.\nDans ce but, j\u2019achetai une petite m\u00e9tairie dans le comt\u00e9 de Bedfort,\net je r\u00e9solus de m\u2019y retirer. L\u2019habitation \u00e9tait commode et les biens\nqui en d\u00e9pendaient susceptibles de grandes am\u00e9liorations, ce qui sous\nbien des rapports me convenait parfaitement, amateur que j\u2019\u00e9tais\nde culture, d\u2019\u00e9conomie, de plantation, d\u2019am\u00e9nagement de la terre;\nd\u2019ailleurs, cette ferme se trouvant dans le c\u0153ur du pays, je n\u2019\u00e9tais\nplus \u00e0 m\u00eame de hanter la marine et les gens de mer et d\u2019ou\u00efr rien qui\ne\u00fbt trait aux lointaines contr\u00e9es du monde.\nBref, je me transportai \u00e0 ma m\u00e9tairie, j\u2019y \u00e9tablis ma famille,\nj\u2019achetai charrues, herses, charrette, chariot, chevaux, vaches,\nmoutons, et, me mettant s\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre, je devins en six mois\nun v\u00e9ritable gentleman campagnard. Mes pens\u00e9es \u00e9taient totalement\nabsorb\u00e9es: c\u2019\u00e9taient mes domestiques \u00e0 conduire, des terres \u00e0\ncultiver, des cl\u00f4tures, des plantations \u00e0 faire... Je jouissais, selon\nmoi, de la plus agr\u00e9able vie que la nature puisse nous d\u00e9partir, et\ndans laquelle puisse faire retraite un homme toujours nourri dans le\nmalheur.\nComme je faisais valoir ma propre terre, je n\u2019avais point de redevance\n\u00e0 payer, je n\u2019\u00e9tais g\u00ean\u00e9 par aucune clause, je pouvais tailler et\nrogner \u00e0 ma guise. Ce que je plantais \u00e9tait pour moi-m\u00eame, ce que\nj\u2019am\u00e9liorais pour ma famille. Ayant ainsi dit adieu aux aventures, je\nn\u2019avais pas le moindre nuage dans ma vie pour ce qui est de ce monde.\nAlors je croyais r\u00e9ellement jouir de l\u2019heureuse m\u00e9diocrit\u00e9 que mon\np\u00e8re m\u2019avait si instamment recommand\u00e9e, une sorte d\u2019existence c\u00e9leste\nsemblable \u00e0 celle qu\u2019a d\u00e9crite le po\u00e8te en parlant de la vie pastorale:\n    Exempte de vices et de soins,\n    Jeunesse est sans \u00e9cart, vieillesse sans besoins[25].\n[Illustration: Je faisais valoir ma propre terre...]\nMais au sein de cette f\u00e9licit\u00e9 un coup inopin\u00e9 de la Providence me\nrenversa: non seulement il me fit une blessure profonde et incurable,\nmais, par ses cons\u00e9quences, il me fit faire une lourde rechute dans\nma passion vagabonde. Cette passion, qui \u00e9tait pour ainsi dire n\u00e9e\ndans mon sang, eut bient\u00f4t repris tout son empire, et, comme le retour\nd\u2019une maladie violente, elle revint avec une force irr\u00e9sistible,\ntellement que rien ne fit plus impression sur moi.\u2014Ce coup, c\u2019\u00e9tait la\nperte de ma femme.\nIl ne m\u2019appartient pas ici d\u2019\u00e9crire une \u00e9l\u00e9gie sur ma femme, de\nretracer toutes ses vertus priv\u00e9es, et de faire ma cour au beau sexe\npar la flatterie d\u2019une oraison fun\u00e8bre. Elle \u00e9tait, soit dit en peu\nde mots, le support de toutes mes affaires, le centre de toutes mes\nentreprises, le bon g\u00e9nie qui par sa prudence me maintenait dans le\ncercle heureux o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais, apr\u00e8s m\u2019avoir arrach\u00e9 au plus extravagant\net au plus ruineux projet o\u00f9 s\u2019\u00e9gar\u00e2t ma t\u00eate. Et elle avait fait plus\npour dompter mon inclination errante que les pleurs d\u2019une m\u00e8re, les\ninstructions d\u2019un p\u00e8re, les conseils d\u2019un ami, ou que toute la force\nde mes propres raisonnements. J\u2019\u00e9tais heureux de c\u00e9der \u00e0 ses larmes,\nde m\u2019attendrir \u00e0 ses pri\u00e8res, et par sa perte je fus en ce monde au\nplus haut point bris\u00e9 et d\u00e9sol\u00e9.\nSit\u00f4t qu\u2019elle me manqua, le monde autour de moi me parut mal: j\u2019y\n\u00e9tais me semblait-il, aussi \u00e9tranger qu\u2019au Br\u00e9sil lorsque pour la\npremi\u00e8re fois j\u2019y abordai, et aussi isol\u00e9, \u00e0 part l\u2019assistance de\nmes domestiques, que je l\u2019\u00e9tais dans mon \u00eele. Je ne savais que faire\nou ne pas faire. Je voyais autour de moi le monde occup\u00e9, les uns\ntravaillant pour avoir du pain, les autres se consumant dans de vils\nexc\u00e8s ou de vains plaisirs, et \u00e9galement mis\u00e9rables, parce que le\nbut qu\u2019ils se proposaient fuyait incessamment devant eux. Les hommes\nde plaisir chaque jour se blasaient sur leurs vices, et s\u2019amassaient\nune montagne de douleur et de repentir, et les hommes de labeur\nd\u00e9pensaient leurs forces en efforts journaliers afin de gagner du\npain de quoi soutenir ces forces vitales qu\u2019exigeaient leurs travaux;\nroulant ainsi dans un cercle continuel de peines, ne vivant que pour\ntravailler, ne travaillant que pour vivre, comme si le pain de chaque\njour \u00e9tait le seul but d\u2019une vie accablante, et une vie accablante la\nseule voie menant au pain de chaque jour.\nCela r\u00e9veilla chez moi l\u2019esprit dans lequel je vivais en mon royaume,\nmon \u00eele, o\u00f9 je n\u2019avais point laiss\u00e9 cro\u00eetre de bl\u00e9 au del\u00e0 de mon\nbesoin, o\u00f9 je n\u2019avais point nourri de ch\u00e8vres au del\u00e0 de mon usage, o\u00f9\nmon argent \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 dans le coffre jusqu\u2019au point de s\u2019y moisir, et\navait eu \u00e0 peine la faveur d\u2019un regard pendant vingt ann\u00e9es.\nSi de toutes ces choses j\u2019eusse profit\u00e9 comme je l\u2019eusse d\u00fb faire et\ncomme la raison et la religion me l\u2019avaient dict\u00e9, j\u2019aurais appris\n\u00e0 chercher au del\u00e0 des jouissances humaines une f\u00e9licit\u00e9 parfaite,\nj\u2019aurais appris que, sup\u00e9rieur \u00e0 elles, il y a quelque chose qui\ncertainement est la raison et la fin de la vie, et que nous devons\nposs\u00e9der ou tout au moins auquel nous devons aspirer sur ce c\u00f4t\u00e9-ci de\nla tombe.\nMais ma sage conseill\u00e8re n\u2019\u00e9tait plus l\u00e0: j\u2019\u00e9tais comme un vaisseau\nsans pilote, qui ne peut que courir devant le vent. Mes pens\u00e9es\nvolaient de nouveau \u00e0 leur ancienne passion, ma t\u00eate \u00e9tait totalement\ntourn\u00e9e par une manie d\u2019aventures lointaines; et tous les agr\u00e9ables\net innocents amusements de ma m\u00e9tairie et de mon jardin, mon b\u00e9tail,\net ma famille, qui auparavant me poss\u00e9daient tout entier, n\u2019\u00e9taient\nplus rien pour moi, n\u2019avaient plus d\u2019attraits, comme la musique pour\nun homme qui n\u2019a point d\u2019oreilles, ou la nourriture pour un homme qui\na le go\u00fbt us\u00e9. En un mot, je r\u00e9solus de me d\u00e9charger du soin de ma\nm\u00e9tairie, de l\u2019abandonner, de retourner \u00e0 Londres: et je fis ainsi peu\nde mois apr\u00e8s.\nArriv\u00e9 \u00e0 Londres, je me retrouvai aussi inquiet qu\u2019auparavant; la\nville m\u2019ennuyait; je n\u2019y avais point d\u2019emploi, rien \u00e0 faire qu\u2019\u00e0\nbaguenauder, comme une personne oisive de laquelle on peut dire\nqu\u2019elle est parfaitement inutile dans la cr\u00e9ation de Dieu, et que\npour le reste de l\u2019humanit\u00e9 il n\u2019importe pas plus qu\u2019un farthing[26]\nqu\u2019elle soit morte ou vive.\u2014C\u2019\u00e9tait aussi de toutes les situations\ncelle que je d\u00e9testais le plus, moi qui avais us\u00e9 mes jours dans une\nvie active; et je me disais souvent \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame: L\u2019\u00e9tat d\u2019oisivet\u00e9 est\nla lie de la vie.\u2014Et en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je pensais que j\u2019\u00e9tais beaucoup plus\nconvenablement occup\u00e9 quand j\u2019\u00e9tais vingt-six jours \u00e0 me faire une\nplanche de sapin.\nNous entrions dans l\u2019ann\u00e9e 1693 quand mon neveu, dont j\u2019avais fait,\ncomme je l\u2019ai dit pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, un marin et un commandant de navire,\nrevint d\u2019un court voyage \u00e0 Bilbao, le premier qu\u2019il e\u00fbt fait. M\u2019\u00e9tant\nvenu voir, il me conta que des marchands de sa connaissance lui\navaient propos\u00e9 d\u2019entreprendre pour leurs maisons un voyage aux Indes\nOrientales et en Chine.\u2014\u00abEt maintenant, mon oncle, dit-il, si vous\nvoulez aller en mer avec moi, je m\u2019engage \u00e0 vous d\u00e9barquer \u00e0 votre\nancienne habitation dans l\u2019\u00eele, car nous devons toucher au Br\u00e9sil.\u00bb\nRien ne saurait \u00eatre une plus forte d\u00e9monstration d\u2019une vie future\net de l\u2019existence d\u2019un monde invisible que la co\u00efncidence des causes\nsecondes et des id\u00e9es que nous formons en notre esprit tout \u00e0 fait\nintimement, et que nous ne communiquons \u00e0 qui que ce soit.\nMon neveu ignorait avec quelle violence ma maladie de courir le monde\ns\u2019\u00e9tait de nouveau empar\u00e9e de moi, et je ne me doutais pas de ce qu\u2019il\navait l\u2019intention de me dire quand le matin m\u00eame, avant sa visite,\ndans une tr\u00e8s grande confusion de pens\u00e9es, repassant en mon esprit\ntoutes les circonstances de ma position, j\u2019en \u00e9tais venu \u00e0 prendre\nla d\u00e9termination d\u2019aller \u00e0 Lisbonne consulter mon vieux capitaine;\net, si c\u2019\u00e9tait raisonnable et praticable, d\u2019aller voir mon \u00eele et ce\nque mon peuple y \u00e9tait devenu. Je me complaisais dans la pens\u00e9e de\npeupler ce lieu, d\u2019y transporter des habitants, d\u2019obtenir une patente\nde possession, et je ne sais quoi encore, quand au milieu de tout ceci\nentra mon neveu, comme je l\u2019ai dit, avec son projet de me conduire \u00e0\nmon \u00eele chemin faisant aux Indes Orientales.\nA cette proposition je me pris \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir un instant, et le regardant\nfixement:\u2014\u00abQuel d\u00e9mon, lui dis-je, vous a charg\u00e9 de ce sinistre\nmessage?\u00bb\u2014Mon neveu tressaillit, comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 effray\u00e9 d\u2019abord;\nmais, s\u2019apercevant que je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas tr\u00e8s f\u00e2ch\u00e9 de l\u2019ouverture,\nil se remit.\u2014\u00abJ\u2019esp\u00e8re, sir, reprit-il, que ce n\u2019est point une\nproposition funeste; j\u2019ose m\u00eame esp\u00e9rer que vous serez charm\u00e9 de voir\nvotre nouvelle colonie en ce lieu o\u00f9 vous r\u00e9gniez jadis avec plus de\nf\u00e9licit\u00e9 que la plupart de vos fr\u00e8res les monarques de ce monde.\u00bb\nBref, ce dessein correspondait si bien \u00e0 mon humeur, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0\nla pr\u00e9occupation qui m\u2019absorbait et dont j\u2019ai tant d\u00e9j\u00e0 parl\u00e9, qu\u2019en\npeu de mots je lui dis que je partirais avec lui s\u2019il s\u2019accordait\navec les marchands, mais que je ne promettais pas d\u2019aller au del\u00e0 de\nmon \u00eele.\u2014\u00abPourquoi, sir? dit-il; vous ne d\u00e9sirez pas \u00eatre laiss\u00e9 l\u00e0\nde nouveau, j\u2019esp\u00e8re!\u00bb\u2014\u00abQuoi! r\u00e9pliquai-je, ne pouvez-vous pas me\nreprendre \u00e0 votre retour?\u00bb\u2014Il m\u2019affirma qu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas possible\nque les marchands lui permissent de revenir, par cette route, avec\nun navire charg\u00e9 de si grandes valeurs, le d\u00e9tour \u00e9tant d\u2019un mois et\npouvant l\u2019\u00eatre de trois ou quatre.\u2014\u00abD\u2019ailleurs, sir, ajouta-t-il, s\u2019il\nm\u2019arrivait malheur, et que je ne revinsse pas du tout, vous seriez\nalors r\u00e9duit \u00e0 la condition o\u00f9 vous \u00e9tiez jadis.\u00bb\nC\u2019\u00e9tait fort raisonnable; toutefois nous trouv\u00e2mes l\u2019un et l\u2019autre\nun rem\u00e8de \u00e0 cela. Ce fut d\u2019embarquer \u00e0 bord du navire un _sloop_\ntout fa\u00e7onn\u00e9, mais d\u00e9mont\u00e9 en pi\u00e8ces, lequel, \u00e0 l\u2019aide de quelques\ncharpentiers que nous conv\u00eenmes d\u2019emmener avec nous, pouvait \u00eatre\nremont\u00e9 dans l\u2019\u00eele et achev\u00e9 et mis \u00e0 flot en peu de jours.\nJe ne fus pas long \u00e0 me d\u00e9terminer, car r\u00e9ellement les importunit\u00e9s\nde mon neveu servaient si bien mon penchant, que rien ne m\u2019aurait\narr\u00eat\u00e9. D\u2019ailleurs, ma femme \u00e9tant morte, je n\u2019avais personne qui\ns\u2019int\u00e9ress\u00e2t assez \u00e0 moi pour me conseiller telle voie ou telle autre,\nexception faite de ma vieille bonne amie la veuve, qui s\u2019\u00e9vertua pour\nme faire prendre en consid\u00e9ration mon \u00e2ge, mon aisance, l\u2019inutile\ndanger d\u2019un long voyage, et, par-dessus tout, mes jeunes enfants. Mais\nce fut peine vaine: j\u2019avais un d\u00e9sir irr\u00e9sistible de voyager.\u2014\u00abJ\u2019ai\nla croyance, lui dis-je, qu\u2019il y a quelque chose de si extraordinaire\ndans les impressions qui p\u00e8sent sur mon esprit, que ce serait en\nquelque sorte r\u00e9sister \u00e0 la Providence si je tentais de demeurer \u00e0\nla maison.\u00bb\u2014Apr\u00e8s quoi elle mit fin \u00e0 ses remontrances et se joignit\n\u00e0 moi non seulement pour faire mes appr\u00eats de voyage, mais encore\npour r\u00e9gler mes affaires de famille en mon absence et pourvoir \u00e0\nl\u2019\u00e9ducation de mes enfants.\n[Illustration: Mais ce fut peine perdue...]\nPour le bien de la chose, je fis mon testament et disposai la fortune\nque je laissais \u00e0 mes enfants de telle mani\u00e8re, et je la pla\u00e7ai en\nde telles mains, que j\u2019\u00e9tais parfaitement tranquille et assur\u00e9 que\njustice leur serait faite, quoi qu\u2019il p\u00fbt m\u2019advenir. Quant \u00e0 leur\n\u00e9ducation, je m\u2019en remis enti\u00e8rement \u00e0 ma veuve, en la gratifiant pour\nses soins d\u2019une suffisante pension, qui fut richement m\u00e9rit\u00e9e, car\nune m\u00e8re n\u2019aurait pas apport\u00e9 plus de soins dans leur \u00e9ducation ou ne\nl\u2019e\u00fbt pas mieux entendue. Elle vivait encore quand je revins dans ma\npatrie, et moi-m\u00eame je v\u00e9cus assez pour lui t\u00e9moigner ma gratitude.\nMon neveu fut pr\u00eat \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 la voile vers le commencement de janvier\n1694-95, et avec mon serviteur Vendredi je m\u2019embarquai aux Dunes le\n8, ayant \u00e0 bord, outre le _sloop_ dont j\u2019ai fait mention ci-dessus,\nun chargement tr\u00e8s consid\u00e9rable de toutes sortes de choses n\u00e9cessaires\npour ma colonie, que j\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu de n\u2019y laisser qu\u2019autant que je la\ntrouverais en bonne situation.\nPremi\u00e8rement j\u2019emmenai avec moi quelques serviteurs que je me\nproposais d\u2019installer comme habitants dans mon \u00eele, ou du moins de\nfaire travailler pour mon compte pendant que j\u2019y s\u00e9journerais, puis\nque j\u2019y laisserais ou que je conduirais plus loin, selon qu\u2019ils\npara\u00eetraient le d\u00e9sirer. Il y avait entre autres deux charpentiers, un\nforgeron, et un autre gar\u00e7on fort adroit et fort ing\u00e9nieux, tonnelier\nde son \u00e9tat, mais artisan universel, car il \u00e9tait habile \u00e0 faire des\nroues et des moulins \u00e0 bras pour moudre le grain, de plus bon tourneur\net bon potier, et capable d\u2019ex\u00e9cuter toute esp\u00e8ce d\u2019ouvrages en terre\nou en bois. Bref, nous l\u2019appelions notre Jack-bon-\u00e0-tout.\nParmi eux se trouvait aussi un tailleur qui s\u2019\u00e9tait pr\u00e9sent\u00e9 pour\npasser aux Indes Orientales avec mon neveu, mais qui consentit par la\nsuite \u00e0 se fixer dans notre nouvelle colonie, et se montra le plus\nutile et le plus adroit compagnon qu\u2019on e\u00fbt su d\u00e9sirer, m\u00eame dans\nbeaucoup de choses qui n\u2019\u00e9taient pas de son m\u00e9tier; car, ainsi que je\nl\u2019ai fait observer autrefois, la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 nous rend industrieux.\nMa cargaison, autant que je puis m\u2019en souvenir, car je n\u2019en avais pas\ndress\u00e9 un compte d\u00e9taill\u00e9, consistait en une assez grande quantit\u00e9 de\ntoiles et de l\u00e9g\u00e8res \u00e9toffes anglaises pour habiller les Espagnols\nque je m\u2019attendais \u00e0 trouver dans l\u2019\u00eele. A mon calcul, il y en avait\nassez pour les v\u00eatir confortablement pendant sept ann\u00e9es. Si j\u2019ai\nbonne m\u00e9moire, les marchandises que j\u2019emportai pour leur habillement,\navec les gants, chapeaux, souliers, bas et autres choses dont ils\npouvaient avoir besoin pour se couvrir, montaient \u00e0 plus de 200 livres\nsterling, y compris quelques lits, couchers, et objets d\u2019ameublement,\nparticuli\u00e8rement des ustensiles de cuisine, pots, chaudrons, vaisselle\nd\u2019\u00e9tain et de cuivre...: j\u2019y avais joint en outre pr\u00e8s de 100 livres\nsterling de ferronnerie, clous, outils de toute sorte, loquets,\ncrochets, gonds; bref, tout objet n\u00e9cessaire auquel je pus penser.\nJ\u2019emportai aussi une centaine d\u2019armes l\u00e9g\u00e8res, mousquets et fusils,\nde plus quelques pistolets, une grande quantit\u00e9 de balles de tout\ncalibre, trois ou quatre tonneaux de plomb, deux pi\u00e8ces de canon\nd\u2019airain, et comme j\u2019ignorais pour combien de temps et pour quelles\nextr\u00e9mit\u00e9s j\u2019avais \u00e0 me pourvoir, je chargeai cent barils de poudre,\ndes \u00e9p\u00e9es, des coutelas et quelques fers de piques et de hallebardes;\nsi bien qu\u2019en un mot nous avions un v\u00e9ritable arsenal de toute esp\u00e8ce\nde munitions. Je fis aussi emporter \u00e0 mon neveu deux petites caronades\nen plus de ce qu\u2019il lui fallait pour son vaisseau, \u00e0 dessein de les\nlaisser dans l\u2019\u00eele si besoin \u00e9tait, afin qu\u2019\u00e0 notre d\u00e9barquement\nnous pussions construire un fort, et l\u2019armer contre n\u2019importe quel\nennemi; et par le fait, d\u00e8s mon arriv\u00e9e, j\u2019eus lieu de penser qu\u2019il\nserait assez besoin de tout ceci et de beaucoup plus encore, si nous\npr\u00e9tendions nous maintenir en possession de l\u2019\u00eele, comme on le verra\ndans la suite de cette histoire.\nJe n\u2019eus pas autant de malencontre dans ce voyage que dans les\npr\u00e9c\u00e9dents; aussi aurai-je moins sujet de d\u00e9tourner le lecteur,\nimpatient peut-\u00eatre d\u2019apprendre ce qu\u2019il en \u00e9tait de ma colonie.\nToutefois quelques accidents \u00e9tranges, des vents contraires et du\nmauvais temps, qui nous advinrent \u00e0 notre d\u00e9part, rendirent la\ntravers\u00e9e plus longue que je ne m\u2019y attendais d\u2019abord; et moi, qui\nn\u2019avais jamais fait qu\u2019un voyage,\u2014mon premier voyage en Guin\u00e9e,\u2014que je\npouvais dire s\u2019\u00eatre effectu\u00e9 comme il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 con\u00e7u, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\ncroire que la m\u00eame fatalit\u00e9 m\u2019attendait encore, et que j\u2019\u00e9tais n\u00e9 pour\nne jamais \u00eatre content \u00e0 terre, et pour toujours \u00eatre malheureux sur\nl\u2019Oc\u00e9an.\nLes vents contraires nous chass\u00e8rent d\u2019abord vers le nord, et nous\nf\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 Galway en Irlande, o\u00f9 ils nous retinrent\ntrente-deux jours; mais dans cette m\u00e9saventure nous e\u00fbmes la\nsatisfaction de trouver l\u00e0 des vivres excessivement bon march\u00e9 et en\ntr\u00e8s grande abondance; de sorte que tout le temps de notre rel\u00e2che,\nbien loin de toucher aux provisions du navire, nous y ajout\u00e2mes\nplut\u00f4t.\u2014L\u00e0 je pris plusieurs porcs, et deux vaches avec leurs veaux,\nque, si nous avions une bonne travers\u00e9e, j\u2019avais dessein de d\u00e9barquer\ndans mon \u00eele: mais nous trouv\u00e2mes occasion d\u2019en disposer autrement.\nNous quitt\u00e2mes l\u2019Irlande le 5 f\u00e9vrier, \u00e0 la faveur d\u2019un joli frais qui\ndura quelques jours.\u2014Autant que je me le rappelle, c\u2019\u00e9tait vers le 20\nf\u00e9vrier, un soir, assez tard, le second, qui \u00e9tait de quart, entra\ndans la chambre du conseil, et nous dit qu\u2019il avait vu une flamme et\nentendu un coup de canon; et tandis qu\u2019il nous parlait de cela, un\nmousse vint nous avertir que le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage en avait entendu\nun autre. L\u00e0-dessus nous cour\u00fbmes tous sur le gaillard d\u2019arri\u00e8re,\no\u00f9 nous n\u2019entend\u00eemes rien; mais au bout de quelques minutes nous\nv\u00eemes une grande lueur, et nous reconn\u00fbmes qu\u2019il y avait au loin un\nfeu terrible. Imm\u00e9diatement nous e\u00fbmes recours \u00e0 notre estime, et\nnous tomb\u00e2mes tous d\u2019accord que du c\u00f4t\u00e9 o\u00f9 l\u2019incendie se montrait il\nne pouvait y avoir de terre qu\u2019\u00e0 500 lieues pour le moins, car il\napparaissait \u00e0 l\u2019ouest-nord-ouest. Nous concl\u00fbmes alors que ce devait\n\u00eatre quelque vaisseau incendi\u00e9 en mer, et les coups de canon que\nnous venions d\u2019entendre nous firent pr\u00e9sumer qu\u2019il ne pouvait \u00eatre\nloin. Nous f\u00eemes voile directement vers lui, et nous e\u00fbmes bient\u00f4t\nla certitude de le d\u00e9couvrir; parce que plus nous cinglions, plus la\nflamme grandissait, bien que de longtemps, le ciel \u00e9tant brumeux,\nnous ne p\u00fbmes apercevoir autre chose que cette flamme.\u2014Au bout d\u2019une\ndemi-heure de bon sillage, le vent nous \u00e9tant devenu favorable,\nquoique assez faible, et le temps s\u2019\u00e9claircissant un peu, nous\ndistingu\u00e2mes pleinement un grand navire en feu au milieu de la mer.\nJe fus sensiblement touch\u00e9 de ce d\u00e9sastre, encore que je ne\nconnusse aucunement les personnes qui s\u2019y trouvaient plong\u00e9es. Je\nme repr\u00e9sentai alors mes anciennes infortunes, l\u2019\u00e9tat o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais\nquand j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 recueilli par le capitaine portugais, et combien\nplus d\u00e9plorable encore devait \u00eatre celui des malheureuses gens de ce\nvaisseau, si quelque autre b\u00e2timent n\u2019allait avec eux de conserve.\nSur ce, j\u2019ordonnai imm\u00e9diatement de tirer cinq coups de canon coup\nsur coup, \u00e0 dessein de leur faire savoir, s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible, qu\u2019ils\navaient du secours \u00e0 leur port\u00e9e, et afin qu\u2019ils t\u00e2chassent de se\nsauver dans leur chaloupe; car, bien que nous pussions voir la flamme\ndans leur navire, eux cependant, \u00e0 cause de la nuit, ne pouvaient rien\nvoir de nous.\nNous \u00e9tions en panne depuis quelque temps, suivant seulement \u00e0 la\nd\u00e9rive le b\u00e2timent embras\u00e9, en attendant le jour, quand soudain, \u00e0\nnotre grande terreur, quoique nous eussions lieu de nous y attendre,\nle navire sauta en l\u2019air et s\u2019engloutit aussit\u00f4t. Ce fut terrible, ce\nfut un douloureux spectacle, par la compassion qu\u2019il nous donna de ces\npauvres gens, qui, je le pr\u00e9sumais, devaient tous avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9truits\navec le navire ou se trouver dans la plus profonde d\u00e9tresse, jet\u00e9s sur\nleur chaloupe au milieu de l\u2019Oc\u00e9an: alternative d\u2019o\u00f9 je ne pouvais\nsortir \u00e0 cause de l\u2019obscurit\u00e9 de la nuit. Toutefois, pour les diriger\nde mon mieux, je donnai l\u2019ordre de suspendre tous les fanaux que nous\navions \u00e0 bord, et on tira le canon toute la nuit. Par l\u00e0 nous leur\nfaisions conna\u00eetre qu\u2019il y avait un b\u00e2timent dans ces parages.\n[Illustration: Le navire sauta en l\u2019air...]\nVers huit heures du matin, \u00e0 l\u2019aide de nos lunettes d\u2019approche,\nnous d\u00e9couvr\u00eemes les embarcations du navire incendi\u00e9, et nous\nreconn\u00fbmes qu\u2019il y en avait deux d\u2019entre elles encombr\u00e9es de monde et\nprofond\u00e9ment enfonc\u00e9es dans l\u2019eau. Le vent leur \u00e9tant contraire, ces\npauvres gens ramaient, et, nous ayant vus, ils faisaient tous leurs\nefforts pour se faire voir aussi de nous.\nNous d\u00e9ploy\u00e2mes aussit\u00f4t notre pavillon pour leur donner \u00e0 conna\u00eetre\nque nous les avions aper\u00e7us, et nous leur adress\u00e2mes un signal\nde ralliement; puis nous for\u00e7\u00e2mes de toile, portant le cap droit\nsur eux. En un peu plus d\u2019une demi-heure, nous les joign\u00eemes, et,\nbref, nous les accueill\u00eemes tous \u00e0 bord; ils n\u2019\u00e9taient pas moins de\nsoixante-quatre, tant hommes que femmes et enfants; car il y avait un\ngrand nombre de passagers.\nEnfin nous appr\u00eemes que c\u2019\u00e9tait un vaisseau marchand fran\u00e7ais de 300\ntonneaux, s\u2019en retournant de Qu\u00e9bec, sur la rivi\u00e8re du Canada. Le\ncapitaine nous fit un long r\u00e9cit de la d\u00e9tresse de son navire. Le feu\navait commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 la timonerie, par la n\u00e9gligence du timonier. A son\nappel au secours il avait \u00e9t\u00e9, du moins tout le monde le croyait-il,\nenti\u00e8rement \u00e9teint. Mais bient\u00f4t on s\u2019\u00e9tait aper\u00e7u que quelques\nflamm\u00e8ches avaient gagn\u00e9 certaines parties du b\u00e2timent, o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait\nsi difficile d\u2019arriver, qu\u2019on n\u2019avait pu compl\u00e8tement les \u00e9teindre.\nEnsuite le feu, s\u2019insinuant entre les couples et dans le vaigrage du\nvaisseau, s\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e9tendu jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la cale, et avait brav\u00e9 tous les\nefforts et toute l\u2019habilet\u00e9 qu\u2019on avait pu d\u00e9ployer.\nIls n\u2019avaient eu alors rien autre \u00e0 faire qu\u2019\u00e0 se jeter dans leurs\nembarcations, qui, fort heureusement pour eux, se trouvaient assez\ngrandes. Ils avaient leur chaloupe, un grand canot et de plus un\npetit esquif qui ne leur avait servi qu\u2019\u00e0 recevoir des provisions et\nde l\u2019eau douce, apr\u00e8s qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9 contre le feu.\nToutefois ils n\u2019avaient que peu d\u2019espoir pour leur vie en entrant dans\nces barques \u00e0 une telle distance de toute terre; seulement, comme\nils le disaient bien, ils avaient \u00e9chapp\u00e9 au feu, et il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas\nimpossible qu\u2019un navire les rencontr\u00e2t et les pr\u00eet \u00e0 son bord.\nIls avaient des voiles, des rames et une boussole, et se pr\u00e9paraient\n\u00e0 mettre le cap en route sur Terre-Neuve, le vent \u00e9tant favorable,\ncar il soufflait un joli frais sud-est-quart-est. Ils avaient, en les\nm\u00e9nageant, assez de provisions et d\u2019eau pour ne pas mourir de faim\npendant environ douze jours, au bout desquels, s\u2019ils n\u2019avaient point\nde mauvais temps et de vents contraires, le capitaine disait qu\u2019il\nesp\u00e9rait atteindre les bancs de Terre-Neuve, o\u00f9 ils pourraient sans\ndoute p\u00eacher du poisson pour se soutenir jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils eussent\ngagn\u00e9 la terre. Mais il y avait dans tous les cas tant de chances\ncontre eux, les temp\u00eates pour les renverser et les engloutir, les\npluies et le froid pour engourdir et geler leurs membres, les vents\ncontraires pour les arr\u00eater et les faire p\u00e9rir par la famine, que\ns\u2019ils eussent \u00e9chapp\u00e9 c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 presque miraculeux.\nAu milieu de leurs d\u00e9lib\u00e9rations, comme ils \u00e9taient tous abattus et\npr\u00eats \u00e0 se d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer, le capitaine me conta, les larmes aux yeux,\nque soudain ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 surpris joyeusement en entendant un coup\nde canon, puis quatre autres. C\u2019\u00e9taient les cinq coups de canon que\nj\u2019avais fait tirer aussit\u00f4t que nous e\u00fbmes aper\u00e7u la lueur. Cela leur\navait redonn\u00e9 du courage, et leur avait fait savoir,\u2014ce qui, je l\u2019ai\ndit pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, \u00e9tait mon dessein,\u2014qu\u2019il se trouvait l\u00e0 un b\u00e2timent\n\u00e0 port\u00e9e de les secourir.\nEn entendant ces coups de canon, ils avaient cal\u00e9 leurs m\u00e2ts et leurs\nvoiles; et, comme le son venait du vent, ils avaient r\u00e9solu de rester\nen panne jusqu\u2019au matin. Ensuite, n\u2019entendant plus le canon, ils\navaient \u00e0 de longs intervalles d\u00e9charg\u00e9 trois mousquets; mais, comme\nle vent nous \u00e9tait contraire, la d\u00e9tonation s\u2019\u00e9tait perdue.\nQuelque temps apr\u00e8s ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 encore plus agr\u00e9ablement surpris\npar la vue de nos fanaux et par le bruit du canon, que j\u2019avais donn\u00e9\nl\u2019ordre de tirer tout le reste de la nuit. A ces signaux ils avaient\nforc\u00e9 de rames pour maintenir leurs embarcations debout au vent, afin\nque nous pussions les joindre plus t\u00f4t, et enfin, \u00e0 leur inexprimable\njoie, ils avaient reconnu que nous les avions d\u00e9couverts.\nIl m\u2019est impossible de peindre les diff\u00e9rents gestes, les extases\n\u00e9tranges, la diversit\u00e9 de postures, par lesquels ces pauvres gens, \u00e0\nune d\u00e9livrance si inattendue, manifestaient la joie de leurs \u00e2mes.\nL\u2019affliction et la crainte se peuvent d\u00e9crire ais\u00e9ment: des soupirs,\ndes g\u00e9missements et quelques mouvements de t\u00eate et de mains en font\ntoute la vari\u00e9t\u00e9; mais une surprise de joie, mais un exc\u00e8s de joie\nentra\u00eene \u00e0 mille extravagances.\u2014Il y en avait en larmes, il y en avait\nqui faisaient rage et se d\u00e9chiraient eux-m\u00eames comme s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\ndans la plus douloureuse agonie: quelques-uns, tout \u00e0 fait en d\u00e9lire,\n\u00e9taient de v\u00e9ritables lunatiques; d\u2019autres couraient \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans le\nnavire en frappant du pied; d\u2019autres se tordaient les mains, d\u2019autres\ndansaient, plusieurs chantaient, quelques-uns riaient, beaucoup\ncriaient; quantit\u00e9, absolument muets, ne pouvaient prof\u00e9rer une\nparole; ceux-ci \u00e9taient malades et vomissaient, ceux-l\u00e0 en p\u00e2moison\n\u00e9taient pr\u00e8s de tomber en d\u00e9faillance;\u2014un petit nombre se signaient et\nremerciaient Dieu.\nJe ne veux faire tort ni aux uns ni aux autres; sans doute beaucoup\nrendirent gr\u00e2ces par la suite, mais tout d\u2019abord la commotion, trop\nforte pour qu\u2019ils pussent la ma\u00eetriser, les plongea dans l\u2019extase\net dans une sorte de fr\u00e9n\u00e9sie; et il n\u2019y en eut que fort peu qui se\nmontr\u00e8rent graves et dignes dans leur joie.\nPeut-\u00eatre aussi le caract\u00e8re particulier de la nation \u00e0 laquelle ils\nappartenaient y contribua-t-il; j\u2019entends la nation fran\u00e7aise, dont\nl\u2019humeur est r\u00e9put\u00e9e plus volatile, plus passionn\u00e9e, plus ardente et\nl\u2019esprit plus fluide que chez les autres nations.\u2014Je ne suis pas assez\nphilosophe pour en d\u00e9terminer la source, mais rien de ce que j\u2019avais\nvu jusqu\u2019alors n\u2019\u00e9galait cette exaltation. Le ravissement du pauvre\nVendredi, mon fid\u00e8le sauvage, en retrouvant son p\u00e8re dans la pirogue,\nest ce qui s\u2019en approchait le plus; la surprise du capitaine et de ses\ndeux compagnons que je d\u00e9livrai des deux sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats qui les avaient\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e9s dans l\u2019\u00eele, y ressemblait quelque peu aussi: n\u00e9anmoins rien\nne pouvait entrer en comparaison, ni ce que j\u2019avais observ\u00e9 chez\nVendredi, ni ce que j\u2019avais observ\u00e9 partout ailleurs durant ma vie.\nIl est encore \u00e0 remarquer que ces extravagances ne se montraient\npoint, sous les diff\u00e9rentes formes dont j\u2019ai fait mention, chez\ndiff\u00e9rentes personnes uniquement, mais que toute leur multiplicit\u00e9\napparaissait en une br\u00e8ve succession d\u2019instants chez un seul et m\u00eame\nindividu. Tel homme que nous voyions muet et, pour ainsi dire, stupide\net confondu, \u00e0 la minute suivante dansait et criait comme un baladin;\nle moment d\u2019ensuite il s\u2019arrachait les cheveux, mettait ses v\u00eatements\nen pi\u00e8ces, les foulait aux pieds comme un furibond; peu apr\u00e8s, tout en\nlarmes, il se trouvait mal, il s\u2019\u00e9vanouissait, et s\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt re\u00e7u de\nprompts secours, encore quelques secondes et il \u00e9tait mort. Il en fut\nainsi, non pas d\u2019un ou de deux, de dix ou de vingt, mais de la majeure\npartie; et, si j\u2019ai bonne souvenance, \u00e0 plus de trente d\u2019entre eux\nnotre chirurgien fut oblig\u00e9 de tirer du sang.\nIl y avait deux pr\u00eatres parmi eux, l\u2019un vieillard, l\u2019autre jeune\nhomme; et, chose \u00e9trange! le vieillard ne fut pas le plus sage.\nD\u00e8s qu\u2019il mit pied \u00e0 bord de notre b\u00e2timent et qu\u2019il se vit en s\u00fbret\u00e9,\nil tomba, en toute apparence, roide mort comme une pierre; pas le\nmoindre signe de vie ne se manifestait en lui. Notre chirurgien lui\nappliqua imm\u00e9diatement les rem\u00e8des propres \u00e0 rappeler ses esprits;\nil \u00e9tait le seul du navire qui ne le croyait pas mort. A la fin il\nlui ouvrit une veine au bras, ayant premi\u00e8rement mass\u00e9 et frott\u00e9 la\nplace pour l\u2019\u00e9chauffer autant que possible. Le sang, qui n\u2019\u00e9tait\nd\u2019abord venu que goutte \u00e0 goutte, coula assez abondamment. En trois\nminutes l\u2019homme ouvrit les yeux, un quart d\u2019heure apr\u00e8s il parla,\nse trouva mieux et au bout de peu de temps tout \u00e0 fait bien. Quand\nla saign\u00e9e fut arr\u00eat\u00e9e, il se promena, nous assura qu\u2019il allait \u00e0\nmerveille, but un trait d\u2019un cordial que le chirurgien lui offrit,\net recouvra, comme on dit, toute sa connaissance. Environ un quart\nd\u2019heure apr\u00e8s on accourut dans la cabine avertir le chirurgien,\noccup\u00e9 \u00e0 saigner une femme fran\u00e7aise \u00e9vanouie, que le pr\u00eatre \u00e9tait\ndevenu enti\u00e8rement insens\u00e9. Sans doute, en repassant dans sa t\u00eate la\nvicissitude de sa position, il s\u2019\u00e9tait replong\u00e9 dans un transport de\njoie; et, ses esprits circulant plus vite que les vaisseaux ne le\ncomportaient, la fi\u00e8vre avait enflamm\u00e9 son sang, et le bonhomme \u00e9tait\ndevenu aussi convenable pour Bedlam[27] qu\u2019aucune des cr\u00e9atures qui\njamais y furent envoy\u00e9es. En cet \u00e9tat, le chirurgien ne voulut pas le\nsaigner de nouveau; mais il lui donna quelque chose pour l\u2019assoupir et\nl\u2019endormir qui op\u00e9ra sur lui assez promptement, et le lendemain matin\nil s\u2019\u00e9veilla calme et r\u00e9tabli.\nLe plus jeune pr\u00eatre sut parfaitement ma\u00eetriser son \u00e9motion, et fut\nr\u00e9ellement un mod\u00e8le de gravit\u00e9 et de retenue. Aussit\u00f4t arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 bord\ndu navire, il s\u2019inclina, et se prosterna pour rendre gr\u00e2ces de sa\nd\u00e9livrance. Dans cet \u00e9lancement j\u2019eus malheureusement la maladresse de\nle troubler, le croyant v\u00e9ritablement \u00e9vanoui; mais il me parla avec\ncalme, me remercia, me dit qu\u2019il b\u00e9nissait Dieu de son salut, me pria\nde le laisser encore quelques instants, ajoutant qu\u2019apr\u00e8s son Cr\u00e9ateur\nje recevrais aussi ses b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions.\nJe fus profond\u00e9ment contrit de l\u2019avoir troubl\u00e9; et non seulement je\nm\u2019\u00e9loignai, mais encore j\u2019emp\u00eachai les autres de l\u2019interrompre. Il\ndemeura dans cette attitude environ trois minutes, ou un peu plus,\napr\u00e8s que je me fus retir\u00e9; puis il vint \u00e0 moi, comme il avait dit\nqu\u2019il ferait, et avec beaucoup de gravit\u00e9 et d\u2019affection, mais les\nlarmes aux yeux, il me remercia de ce qu\u2019avec la volont\u00e9 de Dieu je\nlui avais sauv\u00e9 la vie ainsi qu\u2019\u00e0 tant de pauvres infortun\u00e9s. Je lui\nr\u00e9pondis que je ne l\u2019engagerais point \u00e0 en t\u00e9moigner sa gratitude \u00e0\nDieu plut\u00f4t qu\u2019\u00e0 moi, n\u2019ignorant pas que d\u00e9j\u00e0 c\u2019\u00e9tait chose faite;\npuis j\u2019ajoutai que nous n\u2019avions agi que selon ce que la raison et\nl\u2019humanit\u00e9 dictent \u00e0 tous les hommes, et qu\u2019autant que lui nous avions\nsujet de glorifier Dieu qui nous avait b\u00e9nis jusqu\u2019au point de nous\nfaire les instruments de sa mis\u00e9ricorde envers un si grand nombre de\nses cr\u00e9atures.\nApr\u00e8s cela le jeune pr\u00eatre se donna tout entier \u00e0 ses compatriotes:\nil travailla \u00e0 les calmer, il les exhorta, il les supplia, il discuta\net raisonna avec eux, et fit tout son possible pour les rappeler \u00e0 la\nsaine raison. Avec quelques-uns il r\u00e9ussit; quant aux autres, d\u2019assez\nlongtemps ils ne rentr\u00e8rent en puissance d\u2019eux-m\u00eames.\nJe me suis laiss\u00e9 aller complaisamment \u00e0 cette peinture, dans la\nconviction qu\u2019elle ne saurait \u00eatre inutile \u00e0 ceux sous les yeux\ndesquels elle tombera, pour le gouvernement de leurs passions\nextr\u00eames; car si un exc\u00e8s de joie peut entra\u00eener l\u2019homme si loin au\ndel\u00e0 des limites de la raison, o\u00f9 ne nous emportera pas l\u2019exaltation\nde la col\u00e8re, de la fureur, de la vengeance? Et par le fait j\u2019ai vu\nl\u00e0 dedans combien nous devions rigoureusement veiller sur toutes nos\npassions, qu\u2019elles soient de joie et de bonheur, de douleur ou de\ncol\u00e8re.\nNous f\u00fbmes un peu boulevers\u00e9s le premier jour par les extravagances\nde nos nouveaux h\u00f4tes; mais quand ils se furent retir\u00e9s dans les\nlogements qu\u2019on leur avait pr\u00e9par\u00e9s aussi bien que le permettait notre\nnavire, fatigu\u00e9s, bris\u00e9s par l\u2019effroi, ils s\u2019endormirent profond\u00e9ment\npour la plupart, et nous retrouv\u00e2mes en eux le lendemain une tout\nautre esp\u00e8ce de gens.\nPoint de courtoisies, point de d\u00e9monstrations de reconnaissance qu\u2019ils\nne nous prodigu\u00e8rent pour les bons offices que nous leur avions\nrendus: les Fran\u00e7ais, on ne l\u2019ignore pas, sont naturellement port\u00e9s\n\u00e0 donner dans l\u2019exc\u00e8s de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9-l\u00e0.\u2014Le capitaine et un des pr\u00eatres\nm\u2019abord\u00e8rent le jour suivant, et, d\u00e9sireux de s\u2019entretenir avec moi\net mon neveu le commandant, ils commenc\u00e8rent par nous consulter sur\nnos intentions \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard. D\u2019abord ils nous dirent que, comme nous\nleur avions sauv\u00e9 la vie, tout ce qu\u2019ils poss\u00e9daient ne serait que peu\nen retour du bienfait qu\u2019ils avaient re\u00e7u. Puis le capitaine nous\nd\u00e9clara qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e0 la h\u00e2te arrach\u00e9 aux flammes et mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9\ndans leurs embarcations de l\u2019argent et des objets de valeur, et que,\nsi nous voulions l\u2019accepter, ils avaient mission de nous offrir le\ntout; seulement qu\u2019ils d\u00e9siraient \u00eatre mis \u00e0 terre, sur notre route,\nen quelque lieu o\u00f9 il ne leur f\u00fbt point impossible d\u2019obtenir passage\npour la France.\nMon neveu tout d\u2019abord ne r\u00e9pugnait pas \u00e0 accepter leur argent, quitte\n\u00e0 voir ce qu\u2019on ferait d\u2019eux plus tard; mais je l\u2019en d\u00e9tournai, car je\nsavais ce que c\u2019\u00e9tait que d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9pos\u00e9 \u00e0 terre en pays \u00e9tranger. Si\nle capitaine portugais qui m\u2019avait recueilli en mer avait agi ainsi\nenvers moi, et avait pris pour la ran\u00e7on de ma d\u00e9livrance tout ce que\nje poss\u00e9dais, il m\u2019e\u00fbt fallu mourir de faim ou devenir esclave au\nBr\u00e9sil comme je l\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 en Barbarie, \u00e0 la seule diff\u00e9rence que\nje n\u2019aurais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 vendre \u00e0 un Mahom\u00e9tan; et rien ne dit qu\u2019un\nPortugais soit meilleur ma\u00eetre qu\u2019un Turc, voire m\u00eame qu\u2019il ne soit\npire en certains cas.\nJe r\u00e9pondis donc au capitaine fran\u00e7ais:\u2014\u00abA la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, nous vous\navons secourus dans votre d\u00e9tresse; mais c\u2019\u00e9tait notre devoir, parce\nque nous sommes vos semblables, et que nous d\u00e9sirerions qu\u2019il nous\nf\u00fbt ainsi fait si nous nous trouvions en pareille ou en toute autre\nextr\u00e9mit\u00e9. Nous avons agi envers vous comme nous croyons que vous\neussiez agi envers nous si nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 dans votre situation et\nvous dans la n\u00f4tre. Nous vous avons accueillis \u00e0 bord pour vous\nassister, et non pour vous d\u00e9pouiller; ce serait une chose des plus\nbarbares que de vous prendre le peu que vous avez sauv\u00e9 des flammes,\npuis de vous mettre \u00e0 terre et de vous abandonner; ce serait vous\navoir premi\u00e8rement arrach\u00e9s aux mains de la mort pour vous tuer\nensuite nous-m\u00eames, vous avoir sauv\u00e9s du naufrage pour vous faire\nmourir de faim. Je ne permettrai donc pas qu\u2019on accepte de vous la\nmoindre des choses.\u2014Quant \u00e0 vous d\u00e9poser \u00e0 terre, ajoutai-je, c\u2019est\nvraiment pour nous d\u2019une difficult\u00e9 extr\u00eame; car le b\u00e2timent est\ncharg\u00e9 pour les Indes Orientales; et quoique \u00e0 une grande distance\ndu c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019ouest, nous soyons entra\u00een\u00e9s hors de notre course, ce\nque peut-\u00eatre le ciel a voulu pour votre d\u00e9livrance, il nous est\nn\u00e9anmoins absolument impossible de changer notre voyage \u00e0 votre\nconsid\u00e9ration particuli\u00e8re. Mon neveu, le capitaine, ne pourrait\njustifier cela envers ses affr\u00e9teurs, avec lesquels il s\u2019est engag\u00e9\npar une charte-partie \u00e0 se rendre \u00e0 sa destination par la route du\nBr\u00e9sil. Tout ce qu\u2019\u00e0 ma connaissance il peut faire pour vous, c\u2019est\nde nous mettre en passe de rencontrer des navires revenant des Indes\nOccidentales, et, s\u2019il est possible, de vous faire accorder passage\npour l\u2019Angleterre ou la France.\u00bb\nLa premi\u00e8re partie de ma r\u00e9ponse \u00e9tait si g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse et si obligeante\nqu\u2019ils ne purent que m\u2019en rendre gr\u00e2ces, mais ils tomb\u00e8rent dans\nune grande consternation, surtout les passagers, \u00e0 l\u2019id\u00e9e d\u2019\u00eatre\nemmen\u00e9s aux Indes Orientales. Ils me suppli\u00e8rent, puisque j\u2019\u00e9tais\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 entra\u00een\u00e9 si loin \u00e0 l\u2019ouest avant de les rencontrer, de vouloir\nbien au moins tenir la m\u00eame route jusqu\u2019aux bancs de Terre-Neuve,\no\u00f9 sans doute je rencontrerais quelque navire ou quelque _sloop_\nqu\u2019ils pourraient prendre \u00e0 louage pour retourner au Canada, d\u2019o\u00f9 ils\nvenaient.\nCette requ\u00eate ne me parut que raisonnable de leur part, et j\u2019inclinais\n\u00e0 l\u2019accorder; car je consid\u00e9rais que, par le fait, transporter tout\nce monde aux Indes Orientales serait non seulement agir avec trop de\nduret\u00e9 envers de pauvres gens, mais encore serait la ruine compl\u00e8te\nde notre voyage, par l\u2019absorption de toutes nos provisions. Aussi\npensai-je que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait point l\u00e0 une infraction \u00e0 la charte-partie,\nmais une n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 qu\u2019un accident impr\u00e9vu nous imposait, et que nul\nne pouvait nous imputer \u00e0 bl\u00e2me; car les lois de Dieu et de la nature\nnous avaient enjoint d\u2019accueillir ces deux bateaux pleins de gens dans\nune si profonde d\u00e9tresse, et la force des choses nous faisait une\nobligation, envers nous comme envers ces infortun\u00e9s, de les d\u00e9poser \u00e0\nterre quelque part, de les rendre \u00e0 eux-m\u00eames. Je consentis donc \u00e0 les\nconduire \u00e0 Terre-Neuve si le vent et le temps le permettaient, et, au\ncas contraire, \u00e0 la Martinique, dans les Indes Occidentales.\nLe vent continua de souffler fortement de l\u2019est; cependant le\ntemps se maintint assez bon; et, comme le vent s\u2019\u00e9tablit dans\nles aires interm\u00e9diaires entre le nord-est et le sud-est, nous\nperd\u00eemes plusieurs occasions d\u2019envoyer nos h\u00f4tes en France; car nous\nrencontr\u00e2mes plusieurs navires faisant voile pour l\u2019Europe, entre\nautres deux b\u00e2timents fran\u00e7ais venant de Saint-Christophe; mais ils\navaient louvoy\u00e9 si longtemps qu\u2019ils n\u2019os\u00e8rent prendre des passagers,\ndans la crainte de manquer de vivres et pour eux-m\u00eames et pour ceux\nqu\u2019ils auraient accueillis. Nous f\u00fbmes donc oblig\u00e9s de poursuivre.\u2014Une\nsemaine apr\u00e8s environ nous parv\u00eenmes aux bancs de Terre-Neuve,\no\u00f9, pour couper court, nous m\u00eemes tous nos Fran\u00e7ais \u00e0 bord d\u2019une\nembarcation qu\u2019ils prirent \u00e0 louage en mer, pour les mener \u00e0 terre,\npuis ensuite les transporter en France s\u2019ils pouvaient trouver des\nprovisions pour l\u2019avitailler. Quand je dis que tous nos Fran\u00e7ais nous\nquitt\u00e8rent, je dois faire observer que le jeune pr\u00eatre dont j\u2019ai\nparl\u00e9, ayant appris que nous allions aux Indes Orientales, d\u00e9sira\nfaire le voyage avec nous pour d\u00e9barquer \u00e0 la c\u00f4te de Coromandel. J\u2019y\nconsentis volontiers, car je m\u2019\u00e9tais pris d\u2019affection pour cet homme,\net non sans bonne raison, comme on le verra plus tard.\u2014Quatre matelots\ns\u2019enr\u00f4l\u00e8rent aussi \u00e0 bord, et se montr\u00e8rent bons compagnons.\nDe l\u00e0 nous pr\u00eemes la route des Indes Occidentales, et nous gouvernions\nsud et sud-quart-est depuis environ vingt jours, parfois avec un peu\nou point de vent, quand nous rencontr\u00e2mes une autre occasion, presque\naussi d\u00e9plorable que la pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente, d\u2019exercer notre humanit\u00e9.\nNous \u00e9tions par 27 degr\u00e9s 5 minutes de latitude septentrionale,\nle 19 mars 1694-95, faisant route sud-est-quart-sud, lorsque nous\nd\u00e9couvr\u00eemes une voile. Nous reconn\u00fbmes bient\u00f4t que c\u2019\u00e9tait un gros\nnavire, et qu\u2019il arrivait sur nous; mais nous ne s\u00fbmes que conclure\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il fut un peu plus pr\u00e8s, et que nous e\u00fbmes vu qu\u2019il\navait perdu son grand m\u00e2t de hune, son m\u00e2t de misaine et son beaupr\u00e9.\nIl tira alors un coup de canon en signal de d\u00e9tresse. Le temps \u00e9tait\nassez bon, un beau frais soufflait du nord-nord-ouest; nous f\u00fbmes\nbient\u00f4t \u00e0 port\u00e9e de lui parler.\nNous appr\u00eemes que c\u2019\u00e9tait un navire de Bristol, qui, chargeant \u00e0 la\nBarbade pour son retour, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 entra\u00een\u00e9 hors de la rade par un\nterrible ouragan, peu de jours avant qu\u2019il f\u00fbt pr\u00eat \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 la\nvoile, pendant que le capitaine et le premier lieutenant \u00e9taient all\u00e9s\ntous deux \u00e0 terre; de sorte que, \u00e0 part la terreur qu\u2019imprime une\ntemp\u00eate, ces gens ne s\u2019\u00e9taient trouv\u00e9s que dans un cas ordinaire o\u00f9\nd\u2019habiles marins auraient ramen\u00e9 le vaisseau. Il y avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 neuf\nsemaines qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient en mer, et depuis l\u2019ouragan ils avaient essuy\u00e9\nune autre terrible tourmente, qui les avait tout \u00e0 fait \u00e9gar\u00e9s et\njet\u00e9s \u00e0 l\u2019ouest, et qui les avait d\u00e9m\u00e2t\u00e9s, ainsi que je l\u2019ai not\u00e9\nplus haut. Ils nous dirent qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient attendus \u00e0 voir les \u00eeles\nBahama, mais qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9s plus au sud-est par un fort\ncoup de vent nord-nord-ouest, le m\u00eame qui soufflait alors. N\u2019ayant\npoint de voiles pour man\u0153uvrer le navire, si ce n\u2019est la grande\nvoile, et une sorte de tr\u00e9ou sur un m\u00e2t de misaine de fortune qu\u2019ils\navaient \u00e9lev\u00e9, ils ne pouvaient courir au plus pr\u00e8s du vent, mais ils\ns\u2019effor\u00e7aient de faire route pour les Canaries.\nLe pire de tout, c\u2019est que pour surcro\u00eet des fatigues qu\u2019ils avaient\nsouffertes, ils \u00e9taient \u00e0 demi morts de faim. Leur pain et leur viande\n\u00e9taient enti\u00e8rement consomm\u00e9s, il n\u2019en restait pas une once dans le\nnavire, pas une once depuis onze jours. Pour tout soulagement ils\navaient encore de l\u2019eau, environ un demi-baril de farine et pas mal de\nsucre. Dans l\u2019origine ils avaient eu quelques conserves ou confitures,\nmais elles avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9vor\u00e9es. Sept barils de _rum_ restaient encore.\nIl se trouvait \u00e0 bord comme passagers un jeune homme, sa m\u00e8re et\nune fille de service, qui, croyant le b\u00e2timent pr\u00eat \u00e0 faire voile,\ns\u2019y \u00e9taient malheureusement embarqu\u00e9s la veille de l\u2019ouragan. Leurs\nprovisions particuli\u00e8res une fois consomm\u00e9es, leur condition \u00e9tait\ndevenue plus d\u00e9plorable que celle des autres; car l\u2019\u00e9quipage, r\u00e9duit\nlui-m\u00eame \u00e0 la derni\u00e8re extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, n\u2019avait eu, la chose est croyable,\naucune compassion pour les pauvres passagers: ils \u00e9taient vraiment\nplong\u00e9s dans une mis\u00e8re douloureuse \u00e0 d\u00e9peindre.\nJe n\u2019aurais peut-\u00eatre jamais connu ce fait dans tous ses d\u00e9tails si,\nle temps \u00e9tant favorable et le vent abattu, ma curiosit\u00e9 ne m\u2019avait\nconduit \u00e0 bord de ce navire.\u2014Le lieutenant en second, qui pour lors\navait pris le commandement, vint \u00e0 notre bord, et me dit qu\u2019ils\navaient dans la grande cabine trois passagers qui se trouvaient dans\nun \u00e9tat d\u00e9plorable.\u2014\u00abVoire m\u00eame, ajouta-t-il, je pense qu\u2019ils sont\nmorts; car je n\u2019en ai point entendu parler depuis plus de deux jours,\net j\u2019ai craint de m\u2019en informer, ne pouvant rien faire pour leur\nconsolation.\u00bb\nNous nous appliqu\u00e2mes aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 donner tout soulagement possible \u00e0 ce\nmalheureux navire, et, par le fait, j\u2019influen\u00e7ai si bien mon neveu,\nque j\u2019aurais pu l\u2019approvisionner, eussions-nous d\u00fb aller \u00e0 la Virginie\nou en tout autre lieu de la c\u00f4te d\u2019Am\u00e9rique pour nous ravitailler\nnous-m\u00eames; mais il n\u2019y eut pas n\u00e9cessit\u00e9.\nCes pauvres gens se trouvaient alors dans un nouveau danger: ils\navaient \u00e0 redouter de manger trop, quel que f\u00fbt m\u00eame le peu de\nnourriture qu\u2019on leur donn\u00e2t.\u2014Le second ou commandant avait amen\u00e9 avec\nlui six matelots dans sa chaloupe; mais les infortun\u00e9s semblaient des\nsquelettes et \u00e9taient si faibles qu\u2019ils pouvaient \u00e0 peine se tenir \u00e0\nleurs rames. Le second lui-m\u00eame \u00e9tait fort mal et \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 mort de\nfaim; car il ne s\u2019\u00e9tait rien r\u00e9serv\u00e9, d\u00e9clara-t-il, de plus que ses\nhommes, et n\u2019avait toujours pris que part \u00e9gale de chaque pitance.\n[Illustration: Le second avait amen\u00e9 avec lui six matelots...]\nJe lui recommandai de manger avec r\u00e9serve, et je m\u2019empressai de\nlui pr\u00e9senter de la nourriture; il n\u2019eut pas aval\u00e9 trois bouch\u00e9es\nqu\u2019il commen\u00e7a \u00e0 \u00e9prouver du malaise: aussi s\u2019arr\u00eata-t-il, et notre\nchirurgien lui m\u00eala avec un peu de bouillon quelque chose qu\u2019il dit\ndevoir lui servir \u00e0 la fois d\u2019aliment et de rem\u00e8de. D\u00e8s qu\u2019il l\u2019eut\npris, il se sentit mieux. Dans cette entrefaite je n\u2019oubliai pas les\nmatelots. Je leur fis donner des vivres, et les pauvres diables les\nd\u00e9vor\u00e8rent plut\u00f4t qu\u2019ils ne les mang\u00e8rent. Ils \u00e9taient si affam\u00e9s\nqu\u2019ils enrageaient en quelque sorte et ne pouvaient se contenir. Deux\nentre autres mang\u00e8rent avec tant de voracit\u00e9, qu\u2019ils faillirent en\nmourir le lendemain matin.\nLa vue de la d\u00e9tresse de ces infortun\u00e9s me remua profond\u00e9ment, et\nrappela \u00e0 mon souvenir la terrible perspective qui se d\u00e9roulait\ndevant moi \u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e dans mon \u00eele, o\u00f9 je n\u2019avais pas une bouch\u00e9e\nde nourriture, pas m\u00eame l\u2019espoir de m\u2019en procurer; o\u00f9 pour surcro\u00eet\nj\u2019\u00e9tais dans la continuelle appr\u00e9hension de servir de proie \u00e0 d\u2019autres\ncr\u00e9atures.\u2014Pendant tout le temps que le second nous fit le r\u00e9cit de la\nsituation mis\u00e9rable de l\u2019\u00e9quipage, je ne pus \u00e9loigner de mon esprit ce\nqu\u2019il m\u2019avait cont\u00e9 des trois pauvres passagers de la grande cabine,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire la m\u00e8re, son fils et la fille de service, dont il n\u2019avait\npas eu de nouvelles depuis deux ou trois jours, et que, il semblait\nl\u2019avouer, on avait enti\u00e8rement n\u00e9glig\u00e9s, les propres souffrances de\nson monde \u00e9tant si grandes. J\u2019avais d\u00e9duit de cela qu\u2019on ne leur avait\nr\u00e9ellement donn\u00e9 aucune nourriture, par cons\u00e9quent qu\u2019ils devaient\ntous avoir p\u00e9ri, et que peut-\u00eatre ils \u00e9taient tous \u00e9tendus morts sur\nle plancher de la cabine.\nTandis que je gardais \u00e0 bord le lieutenant, que nous appelions le\ncapitaine, avec ses gens, afin de les restaurer, je n\u2019oubliai pas\nque le reste de l\u2019\u00e9quipage se mourait de faim, et j\u2019envoyai vers le\nnavire ma propre chaloupe, mont\u00e9e par mon second et douze hommes,\npour lui porter un sac de biscuit et quatre ou cinq pi\u00e8ces de b\u0153uf.\nNotre chirurgien enjoignit aux matelots de faire cuire cette viande en\nleur pr\u00e9sence, et de faire sentinelle dans la cuisine pour emp\u00eacher\nces infortun\u00e9s de manger la viande crue ou de l\u2019arracher du pot\navant qu\u2019elle f\u00fbt bien cuite, puis de n\u2019en donner \u00e0 chacun que peu\n\u00e0 la fois. Par cette pr\u00e9caution il sauva ces hommes, qui autrement\nse seraient tu\u00e9s avec cette m\u00eame nourriture qu\u2019on leur donnait pour\nconserver leur vie.\nJ\u2019ordonnai en m\u00eame temps au second d\u2019entrer dans la grande cabine et\nde voir dans quel \u00e9tat se trouvaient les pauvres passagers, et, s\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient encore vivants, de les r\u00e9conforter et de leur administrer\nles secours convenables. Le chirurgien lui donna une cruche de\nce bouillon pr\u00e9par\u00e9, que sur notre bord il avait fait prendre au\nlieutenant, lequel bouillon, affirmait-il, devait les remettre petit \u00e0\npetit.\nNon content de cela, et, comme je l\u2019ai dit plus haut, ayant un grand\nd\u00e9sir d\u2019assister \u00e0 la sc\u00e8ne de mis\u00e8re que je savais devoir m\u2019\u00eatre\nofferte par le navire lui-m\u00eame d\u2019une mani\u00e8re plus saisissante que tout\nr\u00e9cit possible, je pris avec moi le capitaine, comme on l\u2019appelait\nalors, et je partis peu apr\u00e8s dans sa chaloupe.\nJe trouvai \u00e0 bord les pauvres matelots presque en r\u00e9volte pour\narracher la viande de la chaudi\u00e8re avant qu\u2019elle f\u00fbt cuite; mais mon\nsecond avait suivi ses ordres et fait faire bonne garde \u00e0 la porte de\nla cuisine; et la sentinelle qu\u2019il avait plac\u00e9e l\u00e0, apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9puis\u00e9\ntoutes persuasions possibles pour leur faire prendre patience, les\nrepoussait par la force. N\u00e9anmoins elle ordonna de tremper dans le\npot quelques biscuits pour les amollir avec le gras du bouillon,\u2014on\nappelle cela _brewis_,\u2014et d\u2019en distribuer un \u00e0 chacun pour apaiser\nleur faim: c\u2019\u00e9tait leur propre conservation qui l\u2019obligeait, leur\ndisait-elle, de ne leur en donner que peu \u00e0 la fois. Tout cela \u00e9tait\nbel et bon; mais si je ne fusse pas venu \u00e0 bord en compagnie de\nleur commandant et de leurs officiers, si je ne leur avais adress\u00e9\nde bonnes paroles et m\u00eame quelques menaces de ne plus rien leur\ndonner, je crois qu\u2019ils auraient p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de vive force dans la\ncuisine et arrach\u00e9 la viande du fourneau: car ventre affam\u00e9 n\u2019a point\nd\u2019oreilles.\u2014Nous les pacifi\u00e2mes pourtant: d\u2019abord nous leur donn\u00e2mes \u00e0\nmanger peu \u00e0 peu et avec retenue, puis nous leur accord\u00e2mes davantage,\nenfin nous les m\u00eemes \u00e0 discr\u00e9tion, et ils s\u2019en trouv\u00e8rent assez bien.\n[Illustration: Je trouvai \u00e0 bord les pauvres matelots presque en\nr\u00e9volte...]\nMais la mis\u00e8re des pauvres passagers de la cabine \u00e9tait d\u2019une autre\nnature et bien au del\u00e0 de tout le reste; car, l\u2019\u00e9quipage ayant si peu\npour lui-m\u00eame, il n\u2019\u00e9tait que trop vrai qu\u2019il les avait d\u2019abord tenus\nfort ch\u00e9tivement, puis \u00e0 la fin qu\u2019il les avait totalement n\u00e9glig\u00e9s;\nde sorte qu\u2019on e\u00fbt pu dire qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient eu r\u00e9ellement aucune\nnourriture depuis six ou sept jours, et qu\u2019ils n\u2019en avaient eu que\ntr\u00e8s peu les jours pr\u00e9c\u00e9dents.\nLa pauvre m\u00e8re, qui, \u00e0 ce que le lieutenant nous rapporta, \u00e9tait une\nfemme de bon sens et de bonne \u00e9ducation, s\u2019\u00e9tait par tendresse pour\nson fils impos\u00e9 tant de privations, qu\u2019elle avait fini par succomber;\net quand notre second entra, elle \u00e9tait assise sur le plancher de la\ncabine, entre deux chaises auxquelles elle se tenait fortement, son\ndos appuy\u00e9 contre le lambris, la t\u00eate affaiss\u00e9e dans les \u00e9paules, et\nsemblable \u00e0 un cadavre, bien qu\u2019elle ne f\u00fbt pas tout \u00e0 fait morte.\nMon second lui dit tout ce qu\u2019il put pour la ranimer et l\u2019encourager,\net avec une cuill\u00e8re lui fit couler du bouillon dans la bouche. Elle\nouvrit les l\u00e8vres, elle leva une main, mais elle ne put parler.\nCependant elle entendit ce qu\u2019il lui disait, et lui fit signe qu\u2019il\n\u00e9tait trop tard pour elle; puis elle lui montra son enfant, comme si\nelle e\u00fbt voulu dire: Prenez-en soin.\nN\u00e9anmoins le second, excessivement \u00e9mu \u00e0 ce spectacle, s\u2019effor\u00e7ait\nde lui introduire un peu de bouillon dans la bouche, et, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il\npr\u00e9tendit, il lui en fit avaler deux ou trois cuiller\u00e9es: je doute\nqu\u2019il en f\u00fbt bien s\u00fbr. N\u2019importe! c\u2019\u00e9tait trop tard: elle mourut la\nm\u00eame nuit.\nLe jeune homme, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9 au prix de la vie de la plus\naffectionn\u00e9e des m\u00e8res, ne se trouvait pas tout \u00e0 fait aussi affaibli;\ncependant il \u00e9tait \u00e9tendu roide sur un lit, n\u2019ayant plus qu\u2019un souffle\nde vie. Il tenait dans sa bouche un morceau d\u2019un vieux gant qu\u2019il\navait d\u00e9vor\u00e9. Comme il \u00e9tait jeune et avait plus de vigueur que sa\nm\u00e8re, le second r\u00e9ussit \u00e0 lui verser quelque peu de la potion dans le\ngosier, et il commen\u00e7a sensiblement \u00e0 se ranimer; pourtant quelque\ntemps apr\u00e8s, lui en ayant donn\u00e9 deux ou trois grosses cuiller\u00e9es, il\nse trouva fort mal et les rendit.\nDes soins furent ensuite donn\u00e9s \u00e0 la pauvre servante. Pr\u00e8s de sa\nma\u00eetresse elle \u00e9tait couch\u00e9e tout de son long sur le plancher, comme\nune personne tomb\u00e9e en apoplexie, et elle luttait avec la mort. Ses\nmembres \u00e9taient tordus: une de ses mains \u00e9tait agripp\u00e9e \u00e0 un b\u00e2ton\nde chaise, et le tenait si ferme qu\u2019on ne put ais\u00e9ment le lui faire\nl\u00e2cher; son autre bras \u00e9tait pass\u00e9 sur sa t\u00eate, et ses deux pieds,\n\u00e9tendus et joints, s\u2019appuyaient avec force contre la barre de la\ntable. Bref, elle gisait l\u00e0 comme un agonisant dans le travail de la\nmort: cependant elle surv\u00e9cut aussi.\nLa pauvre cr\u00e9ature n\u2019\u00e9tait pas seulement \u00e9puis\u00e9e par la faim et\nbris\u00e9e par les terreurs de la mort; mais, comme nous l\u2019appr\u00eemes de\nl\u2019\u00e9quipage, elle avait le c\u0153ur d\u00e9chir\u00e9 pour sa ma\u00eetresse, qu\u2019elle\nvoyait mourante depuis deux ou trois jours et qu\u2019elle aimait fort\ntendrement.\nNous ne savions que faire de cette pauvre fille; et lorsque notre\nchirurgien, qui \u00e9tait un homme de beaucoup de savoir et d\u2019exp\u00e9rience,\nl\u2019eut \u00e0 grands soins rappel\u00e9e \u00e0 la vie, il eut \u00e0 lui rendre la raison;\net pendant fort longtemps elle resta \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s folle, comme on le\nverra par la suite.\nQuiconque lira ces m\u00e9moires voudra bien consid\u00e9rer que les visites en\nmer ne se font pas comme dans un voyage sur terre, o\u00f9 l\u2019on s\u00e9journe\nquelquefois une ou deux semaines en un m\u00eame lieu. Il nous appartenait\nde secourir l\u2019\u00e9quipage de ce navire en d\u00e9tresse, mais non de demeurer\navec lui; et quoiqu\u2019il d\u00e9sir\u00e2t fort d\u2019aller de conserve avec nous\npendant quelques jours, il nous \u00e9tait pourtant impossible de convoyer\nun b\u00e2timent qui n\u2019avait point de m\u00e2ts. N\u00e9anmoins, quand le capitaine\nnous pria de l\u2019aider \u00e0 dresser un grand m\u00e2t de hune et une sorte\nde m\u00e2tereau de hune \u00e0 son m\u00e2t de misaine de fortune, nous ne nous\nrefus\u00e2mes pas \u00e0 rester en panne trois ou quatre jours. Alors, apr\u00e8s\nlui avoir donn\u00e9 cinq barils de b\u0153uf et de porc, deux barriques de\nbiscuits, et une provision de pois, de farine et d\u2019autres choses\ndont nous pouvions disposer, et avoir pris en retour trois tonneaux\nde sucre, du _rum_, et quelques pi\u00e8ces de huit, nous les quitt\u00e2mes\nen gardant \u00e0 notre bord, \u00e0 leur propre requ\u00eate, le jeune homme et la\nservante avec tous leurs bagages.\nLe jeune homme, dans sa dix-septi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e environ, gar\u00e7on aimable,\nbien \u00e9lev\u00e9, modeste et sensible, profond\u00e9ment afflig\u00e9 de la perte de\nsa m\u00e8re, son p\u00e8re \u00e9tant mort \u00e0 la Barbade peu de mois auparavant,\navait suppli\u00e9 le chirurgien de vouloir bien m\u2019engager \u00e0 le retirer\nde ce vaisseau, dont le cruel \u00e9quipage, disait-il, \u00e9tait l\u2019assassin\nde sa m\u00e8re; et par le fait il l\u2019\u00e9tait, du moins passivement: car,\npour la pauvre veuve d\u00e9laiss\u00e9e, ils auraient pu \u00e9pargner quelques\npetites choses qui l\u2019auraient sauv\u00e9e, n\u2019e\u00fbt-ce \u00e9t\u00e9 que juste de quoi\nl\u2019emp\u00eacher de mourir. Mais la faim ne conna\u00eet ni ami, ni famille,\nni justice, ni droit; c\u2019est pourquoi elle est sans remords et sans\ncompassion.\nLe chirurgien lui avait expos\u00e9 que nous faisions un voyage de long\ncours, qui le s\u00e9parerait de tous ses amis et le replongerait peut-\u00eatre\ndans une aussi mauvaise situation que celle o\u00f9 nous l\u2019avions trouv\u00e9,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire mourant de faim dans le monde; et il avait r\u00e9pondu:\u2014\u00abPeu\nm\u2019importe o\u00f9 j\u2019irai, pourvu que je sois d\u00e9livr\u00e9 du f\u00e9roce \u00e9quipage\nparmi lequel je suis! Le capitaine,\u2014c\u2019est de moi qu\u2019il entendait\nparler, car il ne connaissait nullement mon neveu,\u2014m\u2019a sauv\u00e9 la vie,\nje suis s\u00fbr qu\u2019il ne voudra pas me faire de chagrin; et quant \u00e0 la\nservante, j\u2019ai la certitude, si elle recouvre la raison, qu\u2019elle sera\ntr\u00e8s reconnaissante, n\u2019importe le lieu o\u00f9 vous nous emmeniez.\u00bb\u2014Le\nchirurgien m\u2019avait rapport\u00e9 tout ceci d\u2019une fa\u00e7on si touchante, que\nje n\u2019avais pu r\u00e9sister, et que nous les avions pris \u00e0 bord tous les\ndeux, avec tous leurs bagages, except\u00e9 onze barriques de sucre qu\u2019on\nn\u2019avait pu remuer ou aveindre. Mais comme le jeune homme en avait le\nconnaissement, j\u2019avais fait signer \u00e0 son capitaine un \u00e9crit par lequel\nil s\u2019obligeait, d\u00e8s son arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Bristol, \u00e0 se rendre chez un M.\nRogers, n\u00e9gociant auquel le jeune homme s\u2019\u00e9tait dit alli\u00e9, et \u00e0 lui\nremettre une lettre de ma part, avec toutes les marchandises laiss\u00e9es\n\u00e0 bord appartenant \u00e0 la d\u00e9funte veuve. Il n\u2019en fut rien, je pr\u00e9sume:\ncar je n\u2019appris jamais que ce vaisseau e\u00fbt abord\u00e9 \u00e0 Bristol. Il se\nsera perdu en mer, cela est probable. D\u00e9sempar\u00e9 comme il \u00e9tait et si\n\u00e9loign\u00e9 de toute terre, mon opinion est qu\u2019\u00e0 la premi\u00e8re tourmente qui\naura souffl\u00e9 il aura d\u00fb couler bas. D\u00e9j\u00e0 il faisait eau et avait sa\ncale avari\u00e9e quand nous le rencontr\u00e2mes.\nNous \u00e9tions alors par 19 degr\u00e9s 32 minutes de latitude, et nous\navions eu jusque-l\u00e0 un voyage passable comme temps, quoique les vents\nd\u2019abord eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 contraires.\u2014Je ne vous fatiguerai pas du r\u00e9cit\ndes petits incidents de vents, de temps et de courants advenus durant\nla travers\u00e9e; mais, coupant court eu \u00e9gard \u00e0 ce qui va suivre, je\ndirai que j\u2019arrivai \u00e0 mon ancienne habitation, \u00e0 mon \u00eele, le 10 avril\n1695.\u2014Ce ne fut pas sans grande difficult\u00e9 que je la retrouvai. Comme\nautrefois venant du Br\u00e9sil, je l\u2019avais abord\u00e9e par le sud et sud-est,\nque je l\u2019avais quitt\u00e9e de m\u00eame, et qu\u2019alors je cinglais entre le\ncontinent et l\u2019\u00eele, n\u2019ayant ni carte de la c\u00f4te, ni point de rep\u00e8re,\nje ne la reconnus pas quand je la vis. Je ne savais si c\u2019\u00e9tait elle ou\nnon.\nNous r\u00f4d\u00e2mes longtemps, et nous abord\u00e2mes \u00e0 plusieurs \u00eeles dans les\nbouches de la grande rivi\u00e8re Or\u00e9noque, mais inutilement. Toutefois\nj\u2019appris, en c\u00f4toyant le rivage, que j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 jadis dans une grande\nerreur, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que le continent que j\u2019avais cru voir de l\u2019\u00eele o\u00f9\nje vivais n\u2019\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement point la terre ferme, mais une \u00eele fort\nlongue, ou plut\u00f4t une cha\u00eene d\u2019\u00eeles s\u2019\u00e9tendant d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019autre des\nvastes bouches de la grande rivi\u00e8re; et que les sauvages qui venaient\ndans mon \u00eele n\u2019\u00e9taient pas proprement ceux qu\u2019on appelle Caribes, mais\ndes insulaires et autres barbares de la m\u00eame esp\u00e8ce, qui habitaient un\npeu plus pr\u00e8s de moi.\nBref, je visitai sans r\u00e9sultat quantit\u00e9 de ces \u00eeles: j\u2019en trouvai\nquelques-unes peupl\u00e9es et quelques-unes d\u00e9sertes. Dans une entre\nautres je rencontrai des Espagnols, et je crus qu\u2019ils y r\u00e9sidaient;\nmais, leur ayant parl\u00e9, j\u2019appris qu\u2019ils avaient un _sloop_ mouill\u00e9\ndans une petite crique pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0; qu\u2019ils venaient en ce lieu pour\nfaire du sel et p\u00eacher, s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible, quelques hu\u00eetres \u00e0 perle;\nenfin qu\u2019ils appartenaient \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eele de la Trinit\u00e9, situ\u00e9e plus au nord,\npar 10 et 11 degr\u00e9s de latitude.\nC\u00f4toyant ainsi d\u2019une \u00eele \u00e0 l\u2019autre, tant\u00f4t avec le navire, tant\u00f4t avec\nla chaloupe des Fran\u00e7ais,\u2014nous l\u2019avions trouv\u00e9e \u00e0 notre convenance,\net l\u2019avions gard\u00e9e sous leur bon plaisir,\u2014j\u2019atteignis enfin le c\u00f4t\u00e9\nsud de mon \u00eele, et je reconnus les lieux de prime abord. Je fis donc\nmettre le navire \u00e0 l\u2019ancre, en face de la petite crique o\u00f9 s\u2019\u00e9levait\nmon ancienne habitation.\n[Illustration: J\u2019atteignis enfin le c\u00f4t\u00e9 sud de mon \u00eele...]\nSit\u00f4t que je vins en vue de l\u2019\u00eele, j\u2019appelai Vendredi et je lui\ndemandai s\u2019il savait o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait. Il promena ses regards quelque\ntemps, puis tout \u00e0 coup il battit des mains et s\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abO, oui!\nO, voil\u00e0! O, oui! O, voil\u00e0!\u00bb\u2014Et montrant du doigt notre ancienne\nhabitation, il se prit \u00e0 danser et \u00e0 cabrioler comme un fou, et j\u2019eus\nbeaucoup de peine \u00e0 l\u2019emp\u00eacher de sauter \u00e0 la mer pour gagner la rive\n\u00e0 la nage.\n\u2014\u00abEh bien! Vendredi, lui demandai-je, penses-tu que nous trouvions\nquelqu\u2019un ici? penses-tu que nous revoyions ton p\u00e8re?\u00bb\u2014Il demeura\nquelque temps muet comme une souche; mais quand je nommai son p\u00e8re,\nle pauvre et affectionn\u00e9 gar\u00e7on parut afflig\u00e9, et je vis des larmes\ncouler en abondance sur sa face.\u2014\u00abQu\u2019est-ce, Vendredi? lui dis-je, te\nf\u00e2cherait-il de revoir ton p\u00e8re?\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, non, r\u00e9pondit-il en secouant\nla t\u00eate, non voir lui plus, non jamais plus voir encore!\u00bb\u2014\u00abPourquoi\ndonc, Vendredi, repris-je, comment sais-tu cela?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOh non! oh non!\ns\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il; lui mort il y a longtemps; il y a longtemps lui beaucoup\nvieux homme.\u00bb\u2014\u00abBah! bah! Vendredi, tu n\u2019en sais rien; mais allons-nous\ntrouver quelqu\u2019un autre?\u00bb\u2014Le compagnon avait, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, de\nmeilleurs yeux que moi; il les jeta juste sur la colline au-dessus de\nmon ancienne maison, et, quoique nous en fussions \u00e0 une demi-lieue,\nil se mit \u00e0 crier:\u2014\u00abMoi voir! moi voir! oui, oui, moi voir beaucoup\nhommes l\u00e0, et l\u00e0, et l\u00e0.\u00bb\nJe regardai, mais je ne pus voir personne, pas m\u00eame avec ma lunette\nd\u2019approche, probablement parce que je la braquais mal, car mon\nserviteur avait raison; comme je l\u2019appris le lendemain, il y avait l\u00e0\ncinq ou six hommes arr\u00eat\u00e9s \u00e0 regarder le navire, et ne sachant que\npenser de nous.\nAussit\u00f4t que Vendredi m\u2019eut dit qu\u2019il voyait du monde, je fis d\u00e9ployer\nle pavillon anglais et tirer trois coups de canon, pour donner \u00e0\nentendre que nous \u00e9tions amis; et, un demi-quart d\u2019heure apr\u00e8s,\nnous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes une fum\u00e9e s\u2019\u00e9lever du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la crique. J\u2019ordonnai\nimm\u00e9diatement de mettre la chaloupe \u00e0 la mer, et, prenant Vendredi\navec moi, j\u2019arborai le pavillon blanc ou parlementaire et je me\nrendis directement \u00e0 terre, accompagn\u00e9 du jeune religieux dont il a\n\u00e9t\u00e9 question. Je lui avais cont\u00e9 l\u2019histoire de mon existence en cette\n\u00eele, le genre de vie que j\u2019y avais men\u00e9, toutes les particularit\u00e9s\nayant trait et \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame et \u00e0 ceux que j\u2019y avais laiss\u00e9s, et ce r\u00e9cit\nl\u2019avait rendu extr\u00eamement d\u00e9sireux de me suivre. J\u2019avais en outre avec\nmoi environ seize hommes tr\u00e8s bien arm\u00e9s pour le cas o\u00f9 nous aurions\ntrouv\u00e9 quelques nouveaux h\u00f4tes qui ne nous eussent pas connus; mais\nnous n\u2019e\u00fbmes pas besoin d\u2019armes.\nComme nous allions \u00e0 terre durant le flot, presque \u00e0 mar\u00e9e haute,\nnous vogu\u00e2mes droit dans la crique; et le premier homme sur lequel je\nfixai mes yeux fut l\u2019Espagnol dont j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9 la vie, et que je\nreconnus parfaitement bien \u00e0 sa figure; quant \u00e0 son costume, je le\nd\u00e9crirai plus tard. J\u2019ordonnai d\u2019abord que, except\u00e9 moi, personne ne\nm\u00eet pied \u00e0 terre; mais il n\u2019y eut pas moyen de retenir Vendredi dans\nla chaloupe: car ce fils affectionn\u00e9 avait d\u00e9couvert son p\u00e8re par\ndel\u00e0 les Espagnols, \u00e0 une grande distance, o\u00f9 je ne le distinguais\naucunement; si on ne l\u2019e\u00fbt pas laiss\u00e9 descendre au rivage, il aurait\nsaut\u00e9 \u00e0 la mer. Il ne fut pas plus t\u00f4t d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 qu\u2019il vola vers\nson p\u00e8re comme une fl\u00e8che d\u00e9coch\u00e9e d\u2019un arc. Malgr\u00e9 la plus ferme\nr\u00e9solution, il n\u2019est pas un homme qui e\u00fbt pu se d\u00e9fendre de verser\ndes larmes en voyant les transports de joie de ce pauvre gar\u00e7on quand\nil rejoignit son p\u00e8re; comment il l\u2019embrassa, le baisa, lui caressa\nla face, le prit dans ses bras, l\u2019assit sur un arbre abattu et\ns\u2019\u00e9tendit pr\u00e8s de lui; puis se dressa et le regarda pendant un quart\nd\u2019heure comme on regarderait une peinture \u00e9trange; puis se coucha par\nterre, lui caressa et lui baisa les jambes; puis enfin se releva et\nle regarda fixement. On e\u00fbt dit une fascination; mais le jour suivant\nun chien m\u00eame aurait ri de voir les nouvelles manifestations de son\naffection. Dans la matin\u00e9e, durant plusieurs heures il se promena\navec son p\u00e8re \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 le long du rivage, le tenant toujours par la\nmain comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 une lady, et de temps en temps venant lui\nchercher dans la chaloupe soit un morceau de sucre, soit un verre de\nliqueur, un biscuit ou quelque autre bonne chose. Dans l\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi,\nses folies se transform\u00e8rent encore: alors il asseyait le vieillard\npar terre, se mettait \u00e0 danser autour de lui, faisait mille postures,\nmille gesticulations bouffonnes, et lui parlait et lui contait en m\u00eame\ntemps pour le divertir une histoire ou une autre de ses voyages et ce\nqui lui \u00e9tait advenu dans les contr\u00e9es lointaines. Bref, si la m\u00eame\naffection filiale pour leurs parents se trouvait chez les chr\u00e9tiens,\ndans notre partie du monde, on serait tent\u00e9 de dire que c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\nchose \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s inutile que le cinqui\u00e8me commandement.\nMais ceci est une digression: je retourne \u00e0 mon d\u00e9barquement. S\u2019il me\nfallait relater toutes les c\u00e9r\u00e9monies et toutes les civilit\u00e9s avec\nlesquelles les Espagnols me re\u00e7urent, je n\u2019en aurais jamais fini. Le\npremier Espagnol qui s\u2019avan\u00e7a, et que je reconnus tr\u00e8s bien, comme\nje l\u2019ai dit, \u00e9tait celui dont j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9 la vie. Accompagn\u00e9 d\u2019un\ndes siens portant un drapeau parlementaire, il s\u2019approcha de la\nchaloupe. Non seulement il ne me remit pas d\u2019abord, mais il n\u2019eut\npas m\u00eame la pens\u00e9e, l\u2019id\u00e9e, que ce f\u00fbt moi qui revenais jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce\nque je lui eusse parl\u00e9.\u2014\u00abSenhor, lui dis-je en portugais, ne me\nreconnaissez-vous pas?\u00bb\u2014Il ne r\u00e9pondit pas un mot; mais, donnant son\nmousquet \u00e0 l\u2019homme qui \u00e9tait avec lui, il ouvrit les bras, et, disant\nquelque chose en espagnol que je n\u2019entendis qu\u2019imparfaitement, il\ns\u2019avan\u00e7a pour m\u2019embrasser; puis il ajouta qu\u2019il \u00e9tait inexcusable\nde n\u2019avoir pas reconnu cette figure qui lui avait une fois apparu\ncomme celle d\u2019un ange envoy\u00e9 du ciel pour lui sauver la vie, et une\nfoule d\u2019autres jolies choses, comme en a toujours \u00e0 son service un\nEspagnol bien \u00e9lev\u00e9; ensuite, faisant signe de la main \u00e0 la personne\nqui l\u2019accompagnait, il la pria d\u2019aller appeler ses camarades. Alors\nil me demanda si je voulais me rendre \u00e0 mon ancienne habitation, o\u00f9\nil me remettrait en possession de ma propre demeure, et o\u00f9 je verrais\nqu\u2019il ne s\u2019y \u00e9tait fait que de ch\u00e9tives am\u00e9liorations. Je le suivis\ndonc; mais, h\u00e9las! il me fut aussi impossible de retrouver les lieux\nque si je n\u2019y fusse jamais all\u00e9; car on avait plant\u00e9 tant d\u2019arbres,\non les avait plac\u00e9s de telle mani\u00e8re, si \u00e9pais et si pr\u00e8s l\u2019un de\nl\u2019autre, et en dix ans de temps ils \u00e9taient devenus si gros, qu\u2019en un\nmot, la place \u00e9tait inaccessible, except\u00e9 par certains d\u00e9tours et\nchemins d\u00e9rob\u00e9s que seulement ceux qui les avaient pratiqu\u00e9s pouvaient\nreconna\u00eetre.\n[Illustration: \u2014Ne me reconnaissez-vous pas?]\nJe lui demandai \u00e0 quoi bon toutes ces fortifications. Il me r\u00e9pondit\nque j\u2019en comprendrais assez la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 quand il m\u2019aurait cont\u00e9\ncomment ils avaient pass\u00e9 leur temps depuis leur arriv\u00e9e dans l\u2019\u00eele,\napr\u00e8s qu\u2019ils eurent eu le malheur de me trouver parti. Il me dit\nqu\u2019il n\u2019avait pu que participer de c\u0153ur \u00e0 ma bonne fortune lorsqu\u2019il\navait appris que je m\u2019en \u00e9tais all\u00e9 sur un bon navire, et tout \u00e0\nma satisfaction, que maintes fois il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pris de la ferme\npersuasion qu\u2019un jour ou l\u2019autre il me reverrait; mais que jamais il\nne lui \u00e9tait rien arriv\u00e9 dans sa vie de plus consternant et de plus\naffligeant d\u2019abord que le d\u00e9sappointement o\u00f9 il tomba quand, \u00e0 son\nretour dans l\u2019\u00eele, il ne me trouva plus.\nQuant aux trois barbares,\u2014comme il les appelait,\u2014que nous avions\nlaiss\u00e9s derri\u00e8re nous et sur lesquels il avait une longue histoire\n\u00e0 me conter, s\u2019ils n\u2019eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 en si petit nombre, les Espagnols\nse seraient tous crus beaucoup mieux parmi les sauvages.\u2014\u00abIl y a\nlongtemps que s\u2019ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 assez forts, nous serions tous en\npurgatoire, me dit-il en se signant sur la poitrine; mais, sir,\nj\u2019esp\u00e8re que vous ne vous f\u00e2cherez point quand je vous d\u00e9clarerai\nque, forc\u00e9s par la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, nous avons \u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9s, pour notre\npropre conservation, de d\u00e9sarmer et de faire nos sujets ces hommes\nqui, ne se contentant point d\u2019\u00eatre avec mod\u00e9ration nos ma\u00eetres,\nvoulaient se faire nos meurtriers.\u00bb\u2014Je lui r\u00e9pondis que j\u2019avais\nprofond\u00e9ment redout\u00e9 cela en laissant ces hommes en ces lieux, et\nque rien ne m\u2019avait plus affect\u00e9 \u00e0 mon d\u00e9part de l\u2019\u00eele que de ne pas\nles voir de retour, pour les mettre d\u2019abord en possession de toutes\nchoses, et laisser les autres dans un \u00e9tat de suj\u00e9tion ainsi qu\u2019ils\nle m\u00e9ritaient; mais que puisqu\u2019ils les y avaient r\u00e9duits j\u2019en \u00e9tais\ncharm\u00e9, bien loin d\u2019y trouver aucun mal; car je savais que c\u2019\u00e9taient\nd\u2019intraitables et d\u2019ingouvernables coquins, propres \u00e0 toute esp\u00e8ce de\ncrime.\nComme j\u2019achevais ces paroles, l\u2019homme qu\u2019il avait envoy\u00e9 revint, suivi\nde onze autres. Dans le costume o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient, il \u00e9tait impossible\nde deviner \u00e0 quelle nation ils appartenaient; mais il posa clairement\nla question pour eux et pour moi, car il se tourna d\u2019abord vers moi,\net me dit en les montrant:\u2014\u00abSir, ce sont quelques-uns des gentlemen\nqui vous sont redevables de la vie.\u00bb\u2014Puis, se tournant vers eux et\nme d\u00e9signant du doigt, il leur fit conna\u00eetre qui j\u2019\u00e9tais. L\u00e0-dessus\nils s\u2019approch\u00e8rent tous un \u00e0 un, non pas comme s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\ndes marins et du petit monde et moi leur pareil, mais r\u00e9ellement\ncomme s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 des ambassadeurs ou de nobles hommes et moi\nun monarque ou un grand conqu\u00e9rant. Leur conduite fut au plus haut\ndegr\u00e9 obligeante et courtoise, et cependant m\u00eal\u00e9e d\u2019une m\u00e2le et\nmajestueuse gravit\u00e9 qui leur seyait tr\u00e8s bien. Bref, ils avaient\ntellement plus d\u2019entregent que moi, qu\u2019\u00e0 peine savais-je comment\nrecevoir leurs civilit\u00e9s, beaucoup moins encore comment leur rendre la\nr\u00e9ciproque.\nL\u2019histoire de leur venue et de leur conduite dans l\u2019\u00eele apr\u00e8s mon\nd\u00e9part est si remarquable, elle est travers\u00e9e de tant d\u2019incidents que\nla premi\u00e8re partie de ma relation aidera \u00e0 comprendre, elle a tant de\nliaison, dans la plupart de ses d\u00e9tails, avec le r\u00e9cit que j\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0\ndonn\u00e9, que je ne saurais me d\u00e9fendre de l\u2019offrir avec grand plaisir \u00e0\nla lecture de ceux qui viendront apr\u00e8s moi.\nJe n\u2019embrouillerai pas plus longtemps le fil de cette histoire par une\nnarration \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re personne, ce qui me mettrait en d\u00e9pense de dix\nmille _dis-je, dit-il, et il me dit, et je lui dis_, et autres choses\nsemblables; mais je rassemblerai les faits historiquement, aussi\nexactement que me les repr\u00e9sentera ma m\u00e9moire, suivant qu\u2019ils me les\nont cont\u00e9s, et que je les ai recueillis dans mes entretiens avec eux\nsur les lieux m\u00eames.\nPour faire cela succinctement et aussi intelligiblement que possible,\nil me faut retourner aux circonstances dans lesquelles j\u2019abandonnai\nl\u2019\u00eele et dans lesquelles se trouvaient les personnes dont j\u2019ai \u00e0\nparler. D\u2019abord il est n\u00e9cessaire de r\u00e9p\u00e9ter que j\u2019avais envoy\u00e9 le\np\u00e8re de Vendredi et l\u2019Espagnol, tous les deux sauv\u00e9s, gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 moi,\ndes sauvages; que je les avais envoy\u00e9s, dis-je, dans une grande\npirogue \u00e0 la terre ferme, comme je le croyais alors, pour chercher les\ncompagnons de l\u2019Espagnol, afin de les tirer du malheur o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient,\nde les secourir pour le pr\u00e9sent, et d\u2019inventer ensemble par la suite,\nsi faire se pouvait, quelques moyens de d\u00e9livrance.\nQuand je les envoyai, ma d\u00e9livrance n\u2019avait aucune probabilit\u00e9, rien\nne me donnait lieu de l\u2019esp\u00e9rer, pas plus que vingt ans auparavant;\nbien moins encore avais-je quelque prescience de ce qui arriva par\nla suite, j\u2019entends qu\u2019un navire anglais aborderait l\u00e0 pour les\nemmener. Aussi, quand ils revinrent, quelle dut \u00eatre leur surprise,\nnon seulement de me trouver parti, mais de trouver trois \u00e9trangers\nabandonn\u00e9s sur cette terre, en possession de tout ce que j\u2019avais\nlaiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re moi, et qui autrement leur serait \u00e9chu!\nLa premi\u00e8re chose dont toutefois je m\u2019enquis,\u2014pour reprendre o\u00f9 j\u2019en\nsuis rest\u00e9,\u2014fut ce qui leur \u00e9tait personnel, et je priai l\u2019Espagnol\nde me faire un r\u00e9cit particulier de son voyage dans la pirogue \u00e0 la\nrecherche de ses compatriotes. Il me dit que cette portion de leurs\naventures offrait peu de vari\u00e9t\u00e9, car rien de remarquable ne leur\n\u00e9tait advenu en route: ils avaient eu un temps fort calme et une mer\ndouce; quant \u00e0 ses compatriotes, ils furent, \u00e0 n\u2019en pas douter, ravis\nde le voir.\u2014A ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, il \u00e9tait le principal d\u2019entre eux, le\ncapitaine du navire sur lequel ils avaient naufrag\u00e9 \u00e9tant mort depuis\nquelque temps.\u2014Ils furent d\u2019autant plus surpris de le voir, qu\u2019ils le\nsavaient tomb\u00e9 entre les mains des sauvages, et le supposaient d\u00e9vor\u00e9\ncomme tous les autres prisonniers. Quand il leur conta l\u2019histoire de\nsa d\u00e9livrance et qu\u2019il \u00e9tait \u00e0 m\u00eame de les emmener, ce fut comme un\nsonge pour eux. Leur \u00e9tonnement, selon leur propre expression, fut\nsemblable \u00e0 celui des fr\u00e8res de Joseph lorsqu\u2019il se d\u00e9couvrit \u00e0 eux\net leur raconta l\u2019histoire de son \u00e9l\u00e9vation \u00e0 la cour de Pharaon.\nMais quand il leur montra les armes, la poudre, les balles et les\nprovisions qu\u2019il avait apport\u00e9es pour leur travers\u00e9e, ils se remirent,\nne se livr\u00e8rent qu\u2019avec r\u00e9serve \u00e0 la joie de leur d\u00e9livrance et\nimm\u00e9diatement se pr\u00e9par\u00e8rent \u00e0 le suivre.\nLeur premi\u00e8re affaire fut de se procurer des canots; et en ceci ils se\nvirent oblig\u00e9s de faire violence \u00e0 leur honneur, de tromper leurs amis\nles sauvages, et de leur emprunter deux grands canots ou pirogues,\nsous pr\u00e9texte d\u2019aller \u00e0 la p\u00eache ou en partie de plaisir.\nIls partirent dans ces embarcations le matin suivant. Il est clair\nqu\u2019il ne leur fallut pas beaucoup de temps pour leurs pr\u00e9paratifs,\nn\u2019ayant ni bagages, ni hardes, ni provisions, rien au monde que ce\nqu\u2019ils avaient sur eux et quelques racines qui leur servaient \u00e0 faire\nleur pain.\nCHAPITRE II\n     Nouvelle mutinerie.\u2014Sanglante querelle.\u2014Un coup\n     d\u2019assommoir-.\u2014Feinte soumission.\u2014Une fausse supposition.\u2014Combat\n     entre sauvages.\u2014Trois prisonniers.\u2014Mise en jugement.\u2014L\u2019action\n     du gouverneur.\u2014Curieux \u00e9change.\u2014Loterie.\u2014Funeste\n     curiosit\u00e9.\u2014Incendie des huttes.\u2014Frayeur des sauvages.\u2014Trois\n     nouveaux prisonniers.\u2014Nouvelle incursion des Indiens.\u2014Poursuite\n     impitoyable.\u2014Reddition des Indiens.\u2014Rel\u00e8vement des ruines.\nMes deux messagers furent en tout trois semaines absents, et c\u2019est\ndans cet intervalle, malheureusement pour eux, comme je l\u2019ai rapport\u00e9\ndans la premi\u00e8re partie, que je trouvai l\u2019occasion de quitter mon \u00eele,\nlaissant derri\u00e8re moi trois bandits, les plus impudents, les plus\nendurcis, les plus ingouvernables, les plus turbulents qu\u2019on e\u00fbt su\nrencontrer, au grand chagrin et au grand d\u00e9sappointement des pauvres\nEspagnols, ayez-en l\u2019assurance.\nLa seule chose loyale que firent ces coquins, ce fut de donner ma\nlettre aux Espagnols quand ils arriv\u00e8rent, et de leur offrir des\nprovisions et des secours, comme je le leur avais recommand\u00e9. Ils\nleur remirent aussi de longues instructions \u00e9crites que je leur avais\nlaiss\u00e9es, et qui contenaient les m\u00e9thodes particuli\u00e8res dont j\u2019avais\nfait usage dans le gouvernement de ma vie en ces lieux: la mani\u00e8re de\nfaire cuire mon pain, d\u2019\u00e9lever mes ch\u00e8vres apprivois\u00e9es et de semer\nmon bl\u00e9; comment je s\u00e9chais mes raisins, je faisais mes pots; en un\nmot, tout ce que je fabriquais. Tout cela, couch\u00e9 par \u00e9crit, fut remis\npar les trois vauriens aux Espagnols, dont deux comprenaient assez\nbien l\u2019anglais. Ils ne refus\u00e8rent pas, qui plus est, de s\u2019accommoder\navec eux pour toute autre chose, car ils s\u2019accord\u00e8rent tr\u00e8s bien\npendant quelque temps. Ils partag\u00e8rent \u00e9galement avec eux la maison ou\nla grotte, et commenc\u00e8rent par vivre fort sociablement. Le principal\nEspagnol, qui m\u2019avait assist\u00e9 dans beaucoup de mes op\u00e9rations,\nadministrait toutes les affaires avec l\u2019aide du p\u00e8re de Vendredi.\nQuant aux Anglais, ils ne faisaient que r\u00f4der \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans l\u2019\u00eele,\ntuer des perroquets, attraper des tortues, et quand le soir ils\nrevenaient \u00e0 la maison, les Espagnols pourvoyaient \u00e0 leur souper.\nCes derniers s\u2019en seraient arrang\u00e9s si les autres les avaient\nseulement laiss\u00e9s en repos; mais leur c\u0153ur ne pouvait leur permettre\nde le faire longtemps, et, comme le chien dans la cr\u00e8che, ils ne\nvoulaient ni manger ni souffrir que les autres mangeassent. Leurs\ndiff\u00e9rends toutefois furent d\u2019abord peu de chose et ne valent pas la\npeine d\u2019\u00eatre rapport\u00e9s; mais \u00e0 la fin une guerre ouverte \u00e9clata et\ncommen\u00e7a avec toute la grossi\u00e8ret\u00e9 et l\u2019insolence qui se puissent\nimaginer, sans raison, sans provocation, contrairement \u00e0 la nature\net au sens commun; et, bien que le premier rapport m\u2019en e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fait\npar les Espagnols eux-m\u00eames, que je pourrais qualifier d\u2019accusateurs,\nquand je vins \u00e0 questionner les vauriens, ils ne purent en d\u00e9mentir un\nmot.\nMais avant d\u2019entrer dans les d\u00e9tails de cette seconde partie, il faut\nque je r\u00e9pare une omission faite dans la premi\u00e8re. J\u2019ai oubli\u00e9 d\u2019y\nconsigner qu\u2019au moment de lever l\u2019ancre pour mettre \u00e0 la voile, il\ns\u2019engagea \u00e0 bord de notre navire une petite querelle, qui un instant\nfit craindre une seconde r\u00e9volte; elle ne s\u2019apaisa que lorsque le\ncapitaine, s\u2019armant de courage et r\u00e9clamant notre assistance, eut\ns\u00e9par\u00e9 de vive force et fait prisonniers deux des plus s\u00e9ditieux, et\nles eut fait mettre aux fers. Comme ils s\u2019\u00e9taient m\u00eal\u00e9s activement\naux premiers d\u00e9sordres, et qu\u2019en dernier lieu ils avaient laiss\u00e9\n\u00e9chapper quelques propos grossiers et nuisibles, il les mena\u00e7a de les\ntransporter ainsi en Angleterre pour y \u00eatre pendus comme rebelles et\ncomme pirates.\nCette menace, quoique probablement le capitaine n\u2019e\u00fbt pas l\u2019intention\nde l\u2019ex\u00e9cuter, effraya les autres matelots; et quelques-uns d\u2019entre\neux mirent dans la t\u00eate de leurs camarades que le capitaine ne leur\ndonnait pour le pr\u00e9sent de bonnes paroles qu\u2019afin de pouvoir gagner\nquelque port anglais, o\u00f9 ils seraient tous jet\u00e9s en prison et mis en\njugement.\nLe second eut vent de cela et nous en donna connaissance; sur quoi\nil fut arr\u00eat\u00e9 que moi, qui passais toujours \u00e0 leurs yeux pour un\npersonnage important, j\u2019irais avec le second les rassurer et leur dire\nqu\u2019ils pouvaient \u00eatre certains, s\u2019ils se conduisaient bien durant le\nreste du voyage, que tout ce qu\u2019ils avaient fait pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment serait\noubli\u00e9. J\u2019y allai donc: ils parurent contents apr\u00e8s que je leur eus\ndonn\u00e9 ma parole d\u2019honneur, et plus encore quand j\u2019ordonnai que les\ndeux hommes qui \u00e9taient aux fers fussent rel\u00e2ch\u00e9s et graci\u00e9s.\nCette mutinerie nous obligea \u00e0 jeter l\u2019ancre cette nuit-l\u00e0, attendu\nd\u2019ailleurs que le vent \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9; le lendemain matin nous nous\naper\u00e7\u00fbmes que nos deux hommes qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 mis aux fers s\u2019\u00e9taient\nsaisis chacun d\u2019un mousquet et de quelques autres armes,\u2014nous\nignorions combien ils avaient de poudre et de plomb,\u2014avaient pris\nla pinasse du b\u00e2timent, qui n\u2019avait pas encore \u00e9t\u00e9 hal\u00e9e \u00e0 bord, et\n\u00e9taient all\u00e9s rejoindre \u00e0 terre leurs compagnons de complot.\nAussit\u00f4t que j\u2019en fus instruit, je fis monter dans la grande chaloupe\ndouze hommes et le second, et les envoyai \u00e0 la poursuite de ces\ncoquins; mais ils ne purent les trouver non plus qu\u2019aucun des autres,\ncar d\u00e8s qu\u2019ils avaient vu la chaloupe s\u2019approcher du rivage, ils\ns\u2019\u00e9taient tous enfuis dans les bois. Le second fut d\u2019abord tent\u00e9, pour\nfaire justice de leur coquinerie, de d\u00e9truire leurs plantations, de\nbr\u00fbler leurs ustensiles et leurs meubles, et de les laisser se tirer\nd\u2019affaire comme ils pourraient; mais, n\u2019ayant pas d\u2019ordres, il laissa\ntoutes choses comme il les trouva, et, ramenant la pinasse, il revint\n\u00e0 bord sans eux.\nCes deux hommes joints aux pr\u00e9c\u00e9dents coquins en \u00e9levaient le nombre \u00e0\ncinq; mais les trois premiers l\u2019emportaient tellement en sc\u00e9l\u00e9ratesse\nsur ceux-ci, qu\u2019apr\u00e8s qu\u2019ils eurent pass\u00e9 ensemble deux ou trois\njours, ils chass\u00e8rent les deux nouveaux venus, les abandonnant \u00e0\neux-m\u00eames et ne voulant rien avoir de commun avec eux. Ils refus\u00e8rent\nm\u00eame longtemps de leur donner de la nourriture. Quant aux Espagnols,\nils n\u2019\u00e9taient point encore arriv\u00e9s.\nD\u00e8s que ceux-ci furent venus, les affaires commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 marcher; ils\nt\u00e2ch\u00e8rent d\u2019engager les trois sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats d\u2019Anglais \u00e0 reprendre parmi\neux leurs deux compatriotes, afin, disaient-ils, de ne faire qu\u2019une\nseule famille; mais ils ne voulurent rien entendre, de sorte que les\ndeux pauvres diables v\u00e9curent \u00e0 part, et, voyant qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait que\nle travail et l\u2019application qui p\u00fbt les faire vivre confortablement,\nils s\u2019install\u00e8rent sur le rivage nord de l\u2019\u00eele, mais un peu plus \u00e0\nl\u2019ouest, pour \u00eatre \u00e0 l\u2019abri des sauvages, qui d\u00e9barquaient toujours\ndans la partie orientale.\nL\u00e0 ils b\u00e2tirent deux huttes, l\u2019une pour se loger et l\u2019autre pour\nservir de magasin. Les Espagnols leur ayant remis quelque peu de bl\u00e9\npour semer et une partie des pois que je leur avais laiss\u00e9s, ils\nb\u00each\u00e8rent, plant\u00e8rent, firent des cl\u00f4tures, d\u2019apr\u00e8s l\u2019exemple que\nje leur avais donn\u00e9 \u00e0 tous, et commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 se tirer assez bien\nd\u2019affaire.\nLeur premi\u00e8re r\u00e9colte de bl\u00e9 \u00e9tait venue \u00e0 bien, et, quoiqu\u2019ils\nn\u2019eussent d\u2019abord cultiv\u00e9 qu\u2019un petit espace de terrain, vu le peu de\ntemps qu\u2019ils avaient eu, n\u00e9anmoins c\u2019en fut assez pour les soulager et\nles fournir de pain et d\u2019autres aliments; l\u2019un d\u2019eux, qui avait rempli\n\u00e0 bord les fonctions d\u2019aide de cuisine, s\u2019entendait fort bien \u00e0 faire\ndes soupes, des _puddings_, et quelques autres mets que le riz, le\nlait et le peu de viande qu\u2019ils avaient permettaient d\u2019appr\u00eater.\nC\u2019est ainsi que leur position commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 s\u2019am\u00e9liorer, quand leurs\ntrois fieff\u00e9s coquins de compatriotes se mirent en t\u00eate de venir les\ninsulter et leur chercher noise. Ils leur dirent que l\u2019\u00eele \u00e9tait \u00e0\neux, que le gouverneur,\u2014c\u2019\u00e9tait moi qu\u2019ils d\u00e9signaient ainsi,\u2014leur\nen avait donn\u00e9 la possession, que personne qu\u2019eux n\u2019y avait droit,\net que, de par tous les diables, ils ne leur permettraient point de\nfaire des constructions sur leur terrain, \u00e0 moins d\u2019en payer le loyer.\nLes deux hommes crurent d\u2019abord qu\u2019ils voulaient rire, et les pri\u00e8rent\nde venir s\u2019asseoir aupr\u00e8s d\u2019eux, d\u2019examiner les magnifiques maisons\nqu\u2019ils avaient construites et d\u2019en fixer eux-m\u00eames le loyer; l\u2019un\nd\u2019eux ajouta en plaisantant que s\u2019ils \u00e9taient effectivement les\npropri\u00e9taires du sol, il esp\u00e9rait que, b\u00e2tissant sur ce terrain et y\nfaisant des am\u00e9liorations, on devait, selon la coutume de tous les\npropri\u00e9taires, leur accorder un long bail, et il les engagea \u00e0 amener\nun notaire pour r\u00e9diger l\u2019acte. Un des trois sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats se mit \u00e0 jurer,\net, entrant en fureur, leur dit qu\u2019il allait leur faire voir qu\u2019ils ne\nriaient pas; en m\u00eame temps il s\u2019approche de l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 ces honn\u00eates\ngens avaient allum\u00e9 du feu pour cuire leurs aliments, prend un tison\net, l\u2019appliquant sur la partie ext\u00e9rieure de leur hutte, y met le feu:\nelle aurait br\u00fbl\u00e9 tout enti\u00e8re en quelques minutes si l\u2019un des deux\nhommes, courant \u00e0 ce coquin, ne l\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9loign\u00e9 et \u00e9teint le feu avec\nses pieds, sans de grandes difficult\u00e9s.\nLe vaurien, furieux d\u2019\u00eatre ainsi repouss\u00e9 par cet honn\u00eate homme,\ns\u2019avan\u00e7a sur lui avec un gros b\u00e2ton qu\u2019il tenait \u00e0 la main; et si\nl\u2019autre n\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9vit\u00e9 adroitement le coup et ne se f\u00fbt enfui dans la\nhutte, c\u2019en \u00e9tait fait de sa vie. Son camarade, voyant le danger\no\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient tous deux, courut le rejoindre, et bient\u00f4t ils\nressortirent ensemble, avec leurs mousquets; celui qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nfrapp\u00e9 \u00e9tendit \u00e0 terre d\u2019un coup de crosse le coquin qui avait\ncommenc\u00e9 la querelle avant que les deux autres pussent arriver \u00e0 son\naide; puis, les voyant venir \u00e0 eux, ils leur pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent le canon de\nleurs mousquets et leur ordonn\u00e8rent de se tenir \u00e0 distance.\n[Illustration: Ils leur ordonn\u00e8rent de se tenir \u00e0 distance.]\nLes dr\u00f4les avaient aussi des armes \u00e0 feu; mais l\u2019un des deux honn\u00eates\ngens, plus d\u00e9cid\u00e9 que son camarade et enhardi par le danger qu\u2019ils\ncouraient, leur dit que s\u2019ils remuaient pied ou main ils \u00e9taient\ntous morts, et leur commanda r\u00e9solument de mettre bas les armes.\nIls ne mirent pas bas les armes, il est vrai; mais, les voyant si\nd\u00e9termin\u00e9s, ils parlement\u00e8rent et consentirent \u00e0 s\u2019\u00e9loigner en\nemportant leur camarade, que le coup de crosse qu\u2019il avait re\u00e7u\nparaissait avoir gri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9. Toutefois les deux honn\u00eates\nAnglais eurent grand tort: ils auraient d\u00fb profiter de leurs avantages\npour d\u00e9sarmer enti\u00e8rement leurs adversaires comme ils le pouvaient,\naller imm\u00e9diatement trouver les Espagnols et leur raconter comment\nces sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats les avaient trait\u00e9s; car ces trois mis\u00e9rables ne\ns\u2019occup\u00e8rent plus que des moyens de se venger, et chaque jour en\nfournissait quelque nouvelle preuve.\nMais je ne crois pas devoir charger cette partie de mon histoire du\nr\u00e9cit des manifestations les moins importantes de leur sc\u00e9l\u00e9ratesse,\ntelles que de fouler aux pieds leurs bl\u00e9s, tuer \u00e0 coups de\nfusil trois jeunes chevreaux et une ch\u00e8vre que les pauvres gens\navaient apprivois\u00e9e pour en avoir des petits. En un mot, ils les\ntourment\u00e8rent tellement nuit et jour, que les deux infortun\u00e9s, pouss\u00e9s\n\u00e0 bout, r\u00e9solurent de leur livrer bataille \u00e0 tous trois \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re\noccasion. A cet effet, ils se d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent \u00e0 aller au ch\u00e2teau,\u2014c\u2019est\nainsi qu\u2019ils appelaient ma vieille habitation,\u2014o\u00f9 vivaient \u00e0 cette\n\u00e9poque les trois coquins et les Espagnols. L\u00e0 leur intention \u00e9tait\nde livrer un combat dans les r\u00e8gles, en prenant les Espagnols pour\nt\u00e9moins. Ils se lev\u00e8rent donc le lendemain matin avant l\u2019aube,\nvinrent au ch\u00e2teau et appel\u00e8rent les Anglais par leurs noms, disant\n\u00e0 l\u2019Espagnol, qui leur demanda ce qu\u2019ils voulaient, qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e0\nparler \u00e0 leurs compatriotes.\nIl \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 que la veille deux des Espagnols, s\u2019\u00e9tant rendus\ndans les bois, avaient rencontr\u00e9 l\u2019un des deux Anglais que, pour les\ndistinguer des autres, j\u2019appelle honn\u00eates gens; celui-ci s\u2019\u00e9tait\nplaint am\u00e8rement aux Espagnols des traitements barbares qu\u2019ils avaient\neu \u00e0 souffrir de leurs trois compatriotes, qui avaient d\u00e9truit leur\nplantation, d\u00e9vast\u00e9 leur r\u00e9colte, qu\u2019ils avaient eu tant de peine \u00e0\nfaire venir; tu\u00e9 la ch\u00e8vre et les trois chevreaux qui formaient toute\nleur subsistance. Il avait ajout\u00e9 que si lui et ses amis, \u00e0 savoir les\nEspagnols, ne venaient de nouveau \u00e0 leur aide, il ne leur resterait\nd\u2019autre perspective que de mourir de faim. Quand les Espagnols\nrevinrent le soir au logis, et que tout le monde fut \u00e0 souper, un\nd\u2019entre eux prit la libert\u00e9 de bl\u00e2mer les trois Anglais, bien qu\u2019avec\ndouceur et politesse, et leur demanda comment ils pouvaient \u00eatre\naussi cruels envers des gens qui ne faisaient de mal \u00e0 personne, qui\nt\u00e2chaient de subsister par leur travail, et qui avaient d\u00fb se donner\nbien des peines pour amener les choses \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9tat de perfection o\u00f9 elles\n\u00e9taient arriv\u00e9es.\nL\u2019un des Anglais repartit brusquement:\u2014\u00abQu\u2019avaient-ils \u00e0 faire\nici?\u00bb\u2014ajoutant qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient venus \u00e0 terre sans permission, et que,\nquant \u00e0 eux, ils ne souffriraient pas qu\u2019ils fissent de cultures\nou de constructions dans l\u2019\u00eele; que le sol ne leur appartenait\npas.\u2014\u00abMais, dit l\u2019Espagnol avec beaucoup de calme, se\u00f1or Ingl\u00e9s, ils\nne doivent pas mourir de faim.\u00bb\u2014L\u2019Anglais r\u00e9pondit, comme un malappris\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait, qu\u2019ils pouvaient crever de faim et aller au diable,\nmais qu\u2019ils ne planteraient ni ne b\u00e2tiraient dans ce lieu.\u2014\u00abQue\nfaut-il donc qu\u2019ils fassent, se\u00f1or?\u00bb dit l\u2019Espagnol.\u2014Un autre de ces\nrustres r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00ab_Goddam!_ qu\u2019ils nous servent et travaillent pour\nnous.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMais comment pouvez-vous attendre cela d\u2019eux? vous ne les\navez pas achet\u00e9s de vos deniers, vous n\u2019avez pas le droit d\u2019en faire\nvos esclaves.\u00bb\u2014Les Anglais r\u00e9pondirent que l\u2019\u00eele \u00e9tait \u00e0 eux, que le\ngouverneur la leur avait donn\u00e9e, et que nul autre n\u2019y avait droit;\nils jur\u00e8rent leurs grands dieux qu\u2019ils iraient mettre le feu \u00e0 leurs\nnouvelles huttes, et qu\u2019ils ne souffriraient pas qu\u2019ils b\u00e2tissent sur\nleur territoire.\n\u2014\u00abMais, se\u00f1or, dit l\u2019Espagnol, d\u2019apr\u00e8s ce raisonnement, nous aussi,\nnous devons \u00eatre vos esclaves.\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, dit l\u2019audacieux coquin,\net vous les serez aussi, et nous n\u2019en aurons pas encore fini\nensemble.\u00bb\u2014entrem\u00ealant ses paroles de deux ou trois _goddam_ plac\u00e9s\naux endroits convenables. L\u2019Espagnol se contenta de sourire, et\nne r\u00e9pondit rien. Toutefois, cette conversation avait \u00e9chauff\u00e9 la\nbile des Anglais, et l\u2019un d\u2019eux,\u2014c\u2019\u00e9tait, je crois, celui qu\u2019ils\nappelaient Will Atkins,\u2014se leva brusquement et dit \u00e0 l\u2019un de ses\ncamarades:\u2014\u00abViens, Jack, allons nous frotter avec eux: je te r\u00e9ponds\nque nous d\u00e9molirons leurs ch\u00e2teaux; ils n\u2019\u00e9tabliront pas de colonies\ndans nos domaines.\u00bb\nCe disant, ils sortirent ensemble, arm\u00e9s chacun d\u2019un fusil, d\u2019un\npistolet et d\u2019un sabre, et marmottant entre eux quelques propos\ninsolents sur le traitement qu\u2019ils infligeraient aux Espagnols quand\nl\u2019occasion s\u2019en pr\u00e9senterait; mais il para\u00eet que ceux-ci n\u2019entendirent\npas parfaitement ce qu\u2019ils disaient, et qu\u2019ils comprirent seulement\nqu\u2019on leur faisait des menaces parce qu\u2019ils avaient pris le parti des\ndeux Anglais.\nO\u00f9 all\u00e8rent-ils et comment pass\u00e8rent-ils leur temps ce soir-l\u00e0, les\nEspagnols me dirent n\u2019en rien savoir; mais il para\u00eet qu\u2019ils err\u00e8rent\n\u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans le pays une partie de la nuit, puis que, s\u2019\u00e9tant couch\u00e9s\ndans l\u2019endroit que j\u2019appelais ma tonnelle, ils se sentirent fatigu\u00e9s\net s\u2019endormirent. Au fait, voil\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il en \u00e9tait: ils avaient r\u00e9solu\nd\u2019attendre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 minuit, et alors de surprendre les pauvres diables\ndans leur sommeil, et, comme plus tard ils l\u2019avou\u00e8rent, avec le projet\nde mettre le feu \u00e0 la hutte des deux Anglais pendant qu\u2019ils y \u00e9taient,\nde les faire p\u00e9rir dans les flammes ou de les assassiner au moment\no\u00f9 ils sortiraient: comme la malignit\u00e9 dort rarement d\u2019un profond\nsommeil, il est \u00e9trange que ces gens-l\u00e0 ne soient pas rest\u00e9s \u00e9veill\u00e9s.\nToutefois, comme les deux honn\u00eates gens avaient aussi sur eux des\nvues, plus honorables, il est vrai, que l\u2019incendie et l\u2019assassinat,\nil advint, et fort heureusement pour tous, qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient debout et\nsortis avant que les sanguinaires coquins arrivassent \u00e0 leurs huttes.\nQuand ils y furent et virent que leurs adversaires \u00e9taient partis,\nAtkins, qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, marchait en avant, cria \u00e0 ses\ncamarades:\u2014\u00abHol\u00e0! Jack, voil\u00e0 bien le nid; mais, qu\u2019ils soient\ndamn\u00e9s! les oiseaux sont envol\u00e9s.\u00bb\u2014Ils r\u00e9fl\u00e9chirent un moment \u00e0 ce\nqui avait pu les faire sortir de si bonne heure, et l\u2019id\u00e9e leur vint\nque c\u2019\u00e9taient les Espagnols qui les avaient pr\u00e9venus; l\u00e0-dessus, ils\nse serr\u00e8rent la main et se jur\u00e8rent mutuellement de se venger des\nEspagnols. Aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils eurent fait ce pacte de sang, ils se mirent\n\u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre sur l\u2019habitation des pauvres gens. Ils ne br\u00fbl\u00e8rent rien,\nmais ils jet\u00e8rent bas les deux huttes, et en dispers\u00e8rent les d\u00e9bris,\nde mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ne rien laisser debout et \u00e0 rendre en quelque sorte\nm\u00e9connaissable l\u2019emplacement qu\u2019elles avaient occup\u00e9; ils mirent en\npi\u00e8ces tout leur petit mobilier, et l\u2019\u00e9parpill\u00e8rent de telle fa\u00e7on que\nles pauvres gens retrouv\u00e8rent plus tard, \u00e0 un mille de distance de\nleur habitation, quelques-uns des objets qui leur avaient appartenu.\nCela fait, ils arrach\u00e8rent tous les jeunes arbres que ces pauvres\ngens avaient plant\u00e9s, ainsi que les cl\u00f4tures qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e9tablies\npour mettre en s\u00fbret\u00e9 leurs bestiaux et leur grain; en un mot, ils\nsaccag\u00e8rent et pill\u00e8rent toute chose aussi compl\u00e8tement qu\u2019aurait pu\nle faire une horde de Tartares.\nPendant ce temps les deux hommes \u00e9taient all\u00e9s \u00e0 leur recherche,\nd\u00e9cid\u00e9s \u00e0 les combattre partout o\u00f9 ils les trouveraient, bien\nqu\u2019\u00e9tant seulement deux contre trois, de sorte que, s\u2019ils se fussent\nrencontr\u00e9s, il y aurait eu certainement du sang r\u00e9pandu; car, il faut\nleur rendre cette justice, ils \u00e9taient tous des gaillards solides et\nr\u00e9solus.\nMais la Providence mit plus de soin \u00e0 les s\u00e9parer qu\u2019ils n\u2019en mirent\neux-m\u00eames \u00e0 se joindre: comme s\u2019ils se fussent donn\u00e9 la chasse, les\ntrois vauriens \u00e9taient \u00e0 peine partis que les deux honn\u00eates gens\narriv\u00e8rent; puis, quand ces deux-ci retourn\u00e8rent sur leurs pas pour\naller \u00e0 leur rencontre, les trois autres \u00e9taient revenus \u00e0 la vieille\nhabitation. Nous allons voir la diff\u00e9rence de leur conduite. Quand\nles trois dr\u00f4les furent de retour, encore furieux, et \u00e9chauff\u00e9s par\nl\u2019\u0153uvre de destruction qu\u2019ils venaient d\u2019accomplir, ils abord\u00e8rent\nles Espagnols par mani\u00e8re de bravade et comme pour les narguer,\net ils leur dirent ce qu\u2019ils avaient fait; l\u2019un d\u2019entre eux m\u00eame,\ns\u2019approchant de l\u2019un des Espagnols, comme un polisson qui jouerait\navec un autre, lui \u00f4ta son chapeau de dessus la t\u00eate, et, le faisant\npirouetter, lui dit en lui riant au nez:\u2014\u00abEt vous aussi, se\u00f1or Jack\nEspagnol, nous vous mettrons \u00e0 la m\u00eame sauce si vous ne r\u00e9formez pas\nvos mani\u00e8res.\u00bb\u2014L\u2019Espagnol, qui, quoique doux et pacifique, \u00e9tait aussi\nbrave qu\u2019un homme peut d\u00e9sirer de l\u2019\u00eatre, et d\u2019ailleurs fortement\nconstitu\u00e9, le regarda fixement pendant quelques minutes; puis, n\u2019ayant\n\u00e0 la main aucune arme, il s\u2019approcha gravement de lui, et d\u2019un coup de\npoing l\u2019\u00e9tendit par terre comme un boucher abat un b\u0153uf; sur quoi l\u2019un\ndes bandits, aussi sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat que le premier, fit feu de son pistolet\nsur l\u2019Espagnol. Il le manqua, il est vrai, car les balles pass\u00e8rent\ndans ses cheveux; mais il y en eut une qui lui toucha le bout de\nl\u2019oreille et le fit beaucoup saigner. La vue de son sang fit croire\n\u00e0 l\u2019Espagnol qu\u2019il avait plus de mal que cela n\u2019\u00e9tait effectivement,\net il commen\u00e7a \u00e0 s\u2019\u00e9chauffer, car jusque-l\u00e0 il avait agi avec le plus\ngrand sang-froid; aussi, d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 en finir, il se baissa, et,\nramassant le mousquet de celui qu\u2019il avait \u00e9tendu par terre, il allait\ncoucher en joue l\u2019homme qui avait fait feu sur lui, quand le reste des\nEspagnols qui se trouvaient dans la grotte sortirent, lui cri\u00e8rent\nde ne pas tirer, et, s\u2019\u00e9tant avanc\u00e9s, s\u2019assur\u00e8rent des deux autres\nAnglais en leur arrachant leurs armes.\n[Illustration: ... d\u2019un coup de poing l\u2019\u00e9tendit par terre comme un\nboucher...]\nQuand ils furent ainsi d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s, et lorsqu\u2019ils se furent aper\u00e7us\nqu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient fait des ennemis de tous les Espagnols, comme ils\ns\u2019en \u00e9taient fait de leurs propres compatriotes, ils commenc\u00e8rent d\u00e8s\nlors \u00e0 se calmer, et, baissant le ton, demand\u00e8rent qu\u2019on leur rend\u00eet\nleurs armes; mais les Espagnols, consid\u00e9rant l\u2019inimiti\u00e9 qui r\u00e9gnait\nentre eux et les deux autres Anglais, et pensant que ce qu\u2019il y aurait\nde mieux \u00e0 faire serait de les s\u00e9parer les uns des autres, leur dirent\nqu\u2019on ne leur ferait point de mal, et que, s\u2019ils voulaient vivre\npaisiblement, ils ne demandaient pas mieux que de les aider et d\u2019avoir\ndes rapports avec eux comme auparavant; mais qu\u2019on ne pouvait penser\n\u00e0 leur rendre leurs armes lorsqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9solus \u00e0 s\u2019en servir\ncontre leurs compatriotes, et les avaient m\u00eame menac\u00e9s de faire d\u2019eux\ntous des esclaves.\nLes coquins n\u2019\u00e9taient pas alors plus en \u00e9tat d\u2019entendre raison que\nd\u2019agir raisonnablement; mais, voyant qu\u2019on leur refusait leurs\narmes, ils s\u2019en all\u00e8rent en faisant des gestes extravagants, et\ncomme fous de rage, mena\u00e7ant, bien que sans armes \u00e0 feu, de faire\ntout le mal en leur pouvoir. Les Espagnols, m\u00e9prisant leurs menaces,\nleur dirent de se bien garder de causer le moindre dommage \u00e0 leurs\nplantations ou \u00e0 leur b\u00e9tail; que s\u2019ils s\u2019avisaient de le faire, ils\nles tueraient \u00e0 coups de fusil comme des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces partout o\u00f9 ils\nles trouveraient, et que, s\u2019ils tombaient vivants entre leurs mains,\nils pouvaient \u00eatre s\u00fbrs d\u2019\u00eatre pendus. Il s\u2019en fallut toutefois que\ncela les calm\u00e2t, et ils s\u2019\u00e9loign\u00e8rent en jurant et sacrant comme des\n\u00e9chapp\u00e9s de l\u2019enfer. Aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils furent partis, survinrent les\ndeux autres, enflamm\u00e9s d\u2019une col\u00e8re et poss\u00e9d\u00e9s d\u2019une rage aussi\ngrandes, quoique d\u2019une autre nature: ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas sans motif, car,\nayant \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 leur plantation, ils l\u2019avaient trouv\u00e9e toute d\u00e9molie et\nd\u00e9truite; \u00e0 peine eurent-ils articul\u00e9 leurs griefs, que les Espagnols\nleur dirent les leurs, et tous s\u2019\u00e9tonn\u00e8rent que trois hommes en\nbravassent ainsi dix-neuf impun\u00e9ment.\nLes Espagnols les m\u00e9prisaient, et, apr\u00e8s les avoir ainsi d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s,\nfirent peu de cas de leurs menaces; mais les deux Anglais r\u00e9solurent\nde se venger, quoiqu\u2019il p\u00fbt leur en co\u00fbter pour les trouver.\nIci les Espagnols s\u2019interpos\u00e8rent \u00e9galement, et leur dirent que\nleurs adversaires \u00e9tant d\u00e9j\u00e0 d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s, ils ne pouvaient consentir\n\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils les attaquassent avec des armes \u00e0 feu et les tuassent\npeut-\u00eatre.\u2014\u00abMais, dit le grave Espagnol qui \u00e9tait leur gouverneur,\nnous ferons en sorte de vous faire rendre justice si vous voulez vous\nen rapporter \u00e0 nous: il n\u2019est pas douteux que lorsque leur col\u00e8re\nsera apais\u00e9e, ils reviendront vers nous, incapables qu\u2019ils sont de\nsubsister sans notre aide; nous vous promettons alors de ne faire avec\neux ni paix ni tr\u00eave qu\u2019ils ne vous aient donn\u00e9 pleine satisfaction; \u00e0\ncette condition, nous esp\u00e9rons que vous nous promettrez de votre c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde ne point user de violence \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard, si ce n\u2019est dans le cas de\nl\u00e9gitime d\u00e9fense.\u00bb\nLes deux Anglais c\u00e9d\u00e8rent \u00e0 cette invitation de mauvaise gr\u00e2ce et avec\nbeaucoup de r\u00e9pugnance; mais les Espagnols protest\u00e8rent qu\u2019en agissant\nainsi ils n\u2019avaient d\u2019autre but que d\u2019emp\u00eacher l\u2019effusion du sang, et\nde r\u00e9tablir l\u2019harmonie parmi eux:\u2014\u00abNous sommes bien peu nombreux ici,\ndirent-ils, il y a place pour nous tous, et il serait dommage que nous\nne fussions pas tous bons amis.\u00bb\u2014A la fin les Anglais consentirent,\net, en attendant le r\u00e9sultat, demeur\u00e8rent quelques jours avec les\nEspagnols, leur propre habitation \u00e9tant d\u00e9truite.\nAu bout d\u2019environ trois jours, les trois exil\u00e9s, fatigu\u00e9s d\u2019errer \u00e7\u00e0\net l\u00e0 et mourant presque de faim,\u2014car ils n\u2019avaient gu\u00e8re v\u00e9cu dans\ncet intervalle que d\u2019\u0153ufs de tortues,\u2014retourn\u00e8rent au bocage. Ayant\ntrouv\u00e9 mon Espagnol, qui, comme je l\u2019ai dit, \u00e9tait le gouverneur, se\npromenant avec deux autres sur le rivage, ils l\u2019abord\u00e8rent d\u2019un air\nhumble et soumis, et demand\u00e8rent en gr\u00e2ce d\u2019\u00eatre de nouveau admis dans\nla famille. Les Espagnols les accueillirent avec politesse, mais leur\nd\u00e9clar\u00e8rent qu\u2019ils avaient agi d\u2019une mani\u00e8re si criminelle envers les\nAnglais leurs compatriotes, et d\u2019une fa\u00e7on si incivile envers eux\nEspagnols, qu\u2019ils ne pouvaient rien conclure sans avoir pr\u00e9alablement\nconsult\u00e9 les deux Anglais et le reste de la troupe; qu\u2019ils allaient\nles trouver, leur en parler, et que dans une demi-heure ils leur\nferaient conna\u00eetre le r\u00e9sultat de leur d\u00e9marche. Il fallait que les\ntrois coupables fussent r\u00e9duits \u00e0 une bien rude extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, puisque,\noblig\u00e9s d\u2019attendre la r\u00e9ponse pendant une demi-heure, ils demand\u00e8rent\nqu\u2019on voul\u00fbt bien dans cet intervalle leur faire donner du pain; ce\nqui fut fait: on y ajouta m\u00eame un gros morceau de chevreau et un\nperroquet bouilli, qu\u2019ils mang\u00e8rent de bon app\u00e9tit, car ils \u00e9taient\nmourants de faim.\n[Illustration: Ils l\u2019abord\u00e8rent d\u2019un air humble et soumis...]\nApr\u00e8s avoir tenu conseil une demi-heure, on les fit entrer, et il\ns\u2019engagea \u00e0 leur sujet un long d\u00e9bat: leurs deux compatriotes les\naccus\u00e8rent d\u2019avoir an\u00e9anti le fruit de leur travail et form\u00e9 le\ndessein de les assassiner, toutes choses qu\u2019ils avaient avou\u00e9es\nauparavant et que par cons\u00e9quent ils ne pouvaient nier actuellement;\nalors les Espagnols intervinrent comme conciliateurs, et de m\u00eame\nqu\u2019ils avaient oblig\u00e9 les deux Anglais \u00e0 ne point faire de mal aux\ntrois autres pendant que ceux-ci \u00e9taient priv\u00e9s de leurs armes, de\nm\u00eame maintenant ils oblig\u00e8rent ces derniers \u00e0 aller reb\u00e2tir pour leurs\ncompatriotes deux huttes, l\u2019une devant \u00eatre de la m\u00eame dimension,\net l\u2019autre plus vaste que les premi\u00e8res, comme aussi \u00e0 r\u00e9tablir les\ncl\u00f4tures qu\u2019ils avaient arrach\u00e9es, \u00e0 planter des arbres \u00e0 la place de\nceux qu\u2019ils avaient d\u00e9racin\u00e9s, \u00e0 b\u00eacher le sol pour y semer du bl\u00e9\nl\u00e0 o\u00f9 ils avaient endommag\u00e9 la culture; en un mot, \u00e0 r\u00e9tablir toutes\nchoses en l\u2019\u00e9tat o\u00f9 ils les avaient trouv\u00e9es, autant du moins que\ncela se pouvait; car ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas compl\u00e8tement possible, puisqu\u2019on\nne pouvait r\u00e9parer le temps perdu dans la saison du bl\u00e9, non plus que\nrendre les arbres et les haies ce qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient.\nIls se soumirent \u00e0 toutes ces conditions; et, comme pendant ce\ntemps on leur fournit des provisions en abondance, ils devinrent\ntr\u00e8s paisibles, et la bonne intelligence r\u00e9gna de nouveau dans la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9; seulement on ne put jamais obtenir de ces trois hommes de\ntravailler pour eux-m\u00eames, si ce n\u2019est un peu par-ci par-l\u00e0, et selon\nleur caprice. Toutefois les Espagnols leur dirent franchement que,\npourvu qu\u2019ils consentissent \u00e0 vivre avec eux d\u2019une mani\u00e8re sociable et\namicale, et \u00e0 prendre en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral le bien de la plantation \u00e0 c\u0153ur, on\ntravaillerait pour eux, en sorte qu\u2019ils pourraient se promener et \u00eatre\noisifs tout \u00e0 leur aise. Ayant donc v\u00e9cu en paix pendant un mois ou\ndeux, les Espagnols leur rendirent leurs armes, et leur donn\u00e8rent la\npermission de les porter dans leurs excursions comme par le pass\u00e9.\nUne semaine s\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e0 peine \u00e9coul\u00e9e depuis qu\u2019ils avaient repris\npossession de leurs armes et recommenc\u00e9 leurs courses, que ces hommes\ningrats se montr\u00e8rent aussi insolents et aussi peu supportables\nqu\u2019auparavant; mais, sur ces entrefaites, un incident survint qui mit\nen p\u00e9ril la vie de tout le monde, et qui les for\u00e7a de d\u00e9poser tout\nressentiment particulier, pour ne songer qu\u2019\u00e0 la conservation de leur\nexistence.\nIl arriva une nuit que le gouverneur espagnol, comme je l\u2019appelle,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire l\u2019Espagnol \u00e0 qui j\u2019avais sauv\u00e9 la vie, et qui \u00e9tait\nmaintenant le capitaine, le chef ou le gouverneur de la colonie,\nse trouva tourment\u00e9 d\u2019insomnie et dans l\u2019impossibilit\u00e9 de fermer\nl\u2019\u0153il: il se portait parfaitement bien de corps, comme il me le dit\npar la suite en me contant cette histoire, seulement ses pens\u00e9es se\nsucc\u00e9daient tumultueusement, son esprit n\u2019\u00e9tait plein que d\u2019hommes\ncombattant et se tuant les uns les autres; cependant il \u00e9tait tout\n\u00e0 fait \u00e9veill\u00e9 et ne pouvait avoir un moment de sommeil. Il resta\nlongtemps couch\u00e9 dans cet \u00e9tat; mais, se sentant de plus en plus\nagit\u00e9, il r\u00e9solut de se lever. Comme ils \u00e9taient en grand nombre, ils\nne couchaient pas dans des hamacs comme moi, qui \u00e9tais seul, mais sur\ndes peaux de ch\u00e8vres \u00e9tendues sur des esp\u00e8ces de lits et de paillasses\nqu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient faits, de sorte que quand ils voulaient se lever\nils n\u2019avaient qu\u2019\u00e0 se mettre sur leurs jambes, \u00e0 passer un habit et\n\u00e0 chausser leurs souliers, et ils \u00e9taient pr\u00eats \u00e0 aller o\u00f9 bon leur\nsemblait.\nS\u2019\u00e9tant donc ainsi lev\u00e9, il jeta un coup d\u2019\u0153il dehors; mais il faisait\nnuit et il ne put rien ou presque rien voir; d\u2019ailleurs les arbres\nque j\u2019avais plant\u00e9s, comme je l\u2019ai dit dans mon premier r\u00e9cit, ayant\npouss\u00e9 \u00e0 une grande hauteur, interceptaient sa vue, de mani\u00e8re que\ntout ce qu\u2019il put voir en levant les yeux, ce fut un ciel clair et\n\u00e9toil\u00e9. N\u2019entendant aucun bruit, il revint sur ses pas et se recoucha;\nmais ce fut inutilement: il ne put dormir ni go\u00fbter un instant de\nrepos, ses pens\u00e9es continuant \u00e0 \u00eatre agit\u00e9es et inqui\u00e8tes sans qu\u2019il\ns\u00fbt pourquoi.\nAyant fait quelque bruit en se levant et en allant et venant, l\u2019un\nde ses compagnons s\u2019\u00e9veilla et demanda quel \u00e9tait celui qui se\nlevait. Le gouverneur lui dit ce qu\u2019il \u00e9prouvait.\u2014\u00abVraiment! dit\nl\u2019autre Espagnol, ces choses-l\u00e0 m\u00e9ritent qu\u2019on s\u2019y arr\u00eate, je vous\nassure: il se pr\u00e9pare en ce moment quelque chose contre nous, j\u2019en\nai la certitude;\u00bb\u2014et sur-le-champ il lui demanda o\u00f9 \u00e9taient les\nAnglais.\u2014\u00abIls sont dans leurs huttes, dit-il, tout est en s\u00fbret\u00e9 de\nce c\u00f4t\u00e9-l\u00e0.\u00bb\u2014Il para\u00eet que les Espagnols avaient pris possession\ndu logement principal, et avaient am\u00e9nag\u00e9 un endroit o\u00f9 les trois\nAnglais, depuis leur derni\u00e8re mutinerie, \u00e9taient toujours rel\u00e9gu\u00e9s\nsans qu\u2019ils pussent communiquer avec les autres.\u2014\u00abOui, dit l\u2019Espagnol,\nil doit y avoir quelque chose l\u00e0-dessous, ma propre exp\u00e9rience\nme l\u2019assure. Je suis convaincu que nos \u00e2mes, dans leur enveloppe\ncharnelle, communiquent avec les esprits incorporels, habitants du\nmonde invisible et en re\u00e7oivent des clart\u00e9s. Cet avertissement, ami,\nnous est sans doute donn\u00e9 pour notre bien si nous savons le mettre \u00e0\nprofit. Venez, dit-il, sortons et voyons ce qui se passe; et si nous\nne trouvons rien qui justifie notre inqui\u00e9tude, je vous conterai \u00e0 ce\nsujet une histoire qui vous convaincra de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de ce que je vous\ndis.\u00bb\nEn un mot, ils sortirent pour se rendre au sommet de la colline o\u00f9\nj\u2019avais coutume d\u2019aller; mais, \u00e9tant en force et en bonne compagnie,\nils n\u2019employ\u00e8rent pas la pr\u00e9caution que, moi qui \u00e9tais tout seul, je\nprenais de monter au moyen de l\u2019\u00e9chelle que je tirais apr\u00e8s moi et\nrepla\u00e7ais une seconde fois pour gagner le sommet, car ils travers\u00e8rent\nle bocage sans pr\u00e9caution et librement, lorsque tout \u00e0 coup ils\nfurent surpris de voir \u00e0 tr\u00e8s peu de distance la lumi\u00e8re d\u2019un feu et\nd\u2019entendre, non pas une voix ou deux, mais les voix d\u2019un grand nombre\nd\u2019hommes.\n[Illustration: Ils furent surpris de voir la lumi\u00e8re d\u2019un feu...]\nToutes les fois que j\u2019avais d\u00e9couvert des d\u00e9barquements de sauvages\ndans l\u2019\u00eele, j\u2019avais constamment fait en sorte qu\u2019on ne p\u00fbt avoir le\nmoindre indice que le lieu \u00e9tait habit\u00e9; lorsque les \u00e9v\u00e9nements le\nleur apprirent, ce fut d\u2019une mani\u00e8re si fugitive, que c\u2019est tout\nau plus si ceux qui se sauv\u00e8rent purent dire ce qu\u2019ils avaient vu,\ncar nous dispar\u00fbmes aussit\u00f4t que possible, et aucun de ceux qui\nm\u2019avaient vu ne s\u2019\u00e9chappa pour le dire \u00e0 d\u2019autres, except\u00e9 les trois\nsauvages qui, lors de notre derni\u00e8re rencontre, saut\u00e8rent dans la\npirogue, et qui, comme je l\u2019ai dit, m\u2019avaient fait craindre qu\u2019ils ne\nretournassent aupr\u00e8s de leurs compatriotes et n\u2019amenassent du renfort.\n\u00c9tait-ce ce qu\u2019avaient pu dire ces trois hommes qui en amenait\nmaintenant un aussi grand nombre, ou bien \u00e9tait-ce le hasard seul ou\nl\u2019un de leurs festins sanglants, c\u2019est ce que les Espagnols ne purent\ncomprendre, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet; mais, quoiqu\u2019il en f\u00fbt, il aurait mieux\nvalu pour eux qu\u2019ils se fussent tenus cach\u00e9s et qu\u2019ils n\u2019eussent\npas vu les sauvages, que de laisser conna\u00eetre \u00e0 ceux-ci que l\u2019\u00eele\n\u00e9tait habit\u00e9e. Dans ce dernier cas, il fallait tomber sur eux avec\nvigueur, de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 n\u2019en pas laisser \u00e9chapper un seul, ce qui ne\npouvait se faire qu\u2019en se pla\u00e7ant entre eux et leurs canots; mais la\npr\u00e9sence d\u2019esprit leur manqua, ce qui d\u00e9truisit pour longtemps leur\ntranquillit\u00e9.\nNous ne devons pas douter que le gouverneur et celui qui\nl\u2019accompagnait, surpris \u00e0 cette vue, ne soient retourn\u00e9s\npr\u00e9cipitamment sur leurs pas et n\u2019aient donn\u00e9 l\u2019alarme \u00e0 leurs\ncompagnons, en leur faisant part du danger imminent dans lequel ils\n\u00e9taient tous. La frayeur fut grande en effet, mais il fut impossible\nde les faire rester o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient, tous ayant voulu sortir pour juger\npar eux-m\u00eames de l\u2019\u00e9tat des choses.\nTant qu\u2019il fit nuit, ils purent pendant plusieurs heures les examiner\ntout \u00e0 leur aise \u00e0 la lueur de trois feux qu\u2019ils avaient allum\u00e9s \u00e0\nquelque distance l\u2019un de l\u2019autre: ils ne savaient ce que faisaient\nles sauvages, ni ce qu\u2019ils devaient faire eux-m\u00eames, car d\u2019abord les\nennemis \u00e9taient trop nombreux, ensuite ils n\u2019\u00e9taient point r\u00e9unis,\nmais s\u00e9par\u00e9s en plusieurs groupes, et occupaient divers endroits du\nrivage.\nLes Espagnols, \u00e0 cet aspect, furent dans une grande consternation;\nles voyant parcourir le rivage dans tous les sens, ils ne dout\u00e8rent\npas que t\u00f4t ou tard quelques-uns d\u2019entre eux ne d\u00e9couvrissent leur\nhabitation ou quelque autre lieu o\u00f9 ils trouveraient des vestiges\nd\u2019habitants; ils \u00e9prouv\u00e8rent aussi une grande inqui\u00e9tude \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9gard\nde leurs troupeaux de ch\u00e8vres, car leur destruction les e\u00fbt r\u00e9duits\npresque \u00e0 la famine. La premi\u00e8re chose qu\u2019ils firent donc fut de\nd\u00e9p\u00eacher trois hommes, deux Espagnols et un Anglais, avant qu\u2019il f\u00fbt\njour, pour emmener toutes les ch\u00e8vres dans la grande vall\u00e9e o\u00f9 \u00e9tait\nsitu\u00e9e la caverne, et pour les cacher, si cela \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire,\ndans la caverne m\u00eame. Ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9solus \u00e0 attaquer les sauvages,\nfussent-ils cent, s\u2019ils les voyaient r\u00e9unis tous ensemble et \u00e0 quelque\ndistance de leurs canots; mais cela n\u2019\u00e9tait pas possible, car ils\n\u00e9taient divis\u00e9s en deux troupes \u00e9loign\u00e9es de deux milles l\u2019une de\nl\u2019autre, et, comme on le sut plus tard, il y avait l\u00e0 deux nations\ndiff\u00e9rentes.\nApr\u00e8s avoir longtemps r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi sur ce qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e0 faire et s\u2019\u00eatre\nfatigu\u00e9 le cerveau \u00e0 examiner leur position actuelle, ils r\u00e9solurent\nenfin d\u2019envoyer comme espion, pendant qu\u2019il faisait nuit, le vieux\nsauvage, p\u00e8re de Vendredi, afin de d\u00e9couvrir, si cela \u00e9tait possible,\nquelque chose touchant ces gens, par exemple d\u2019o\u00f9 ils venaient, ou ce\nqu\u2019ils se proposaient de faire. Le vieillard y consentit volontiers,\net, s\u2019\u00e9tant mis tout nu, comme \u00e9taient la plupart des sauvages, il\npartit. Apr\u00e8s une heure ou deux d\u2019absence, il revint et rapporta\nqu\u2019il avait p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 au milieu d\u2019eux sans avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9couvert; il\navait appris que c\u2019\u00e9taient deux exp\u00e9ditions s\u00e9par\u00e9es et deux nations\ndiff\u00e9rentes en guerre l\u2019une contre l\u2019autre; elles s\u2019\u00e9taient livr\u00e9 une\ngrande bataille dans leur pays, et un certain nombre de prisonniers\nayant \u00e9t\u00e9 faits de part et d\u2019autre dans le combat, ces guerriers\n\u00e9taient par hasard d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s dans la m\u00eame \u00eele pour manger leurs\nprisonniers et se r\u00e9jouir; mais la circonstance de leur arriv\u00e9e dans\nle m\u00eame lieu avait troubl\u00e9 toute leur joie. Ils \u00e9taient furieux les\nuns contre les autres et si rapproch\u00e9s qu\u2019on devait s\u2019attendre \u00e0 les\nvoir combattre aussit\u00f4t que le jour para\u00eetrait. Il ne s\u2019\u00e9tait pas\naper\u00e7u qu\u2019ils soup\u00e7onnassent que d\u2019autres hommes fussent dans l\u2019\u00eele.\nIl avait \u00e0 peine achev\u00e9 son r\u00e9cit qu\u2019un grand bruit annon\u00e7a que les\ndeux petites arm\u00e9es se livraient un combat sanglant.\nLe p\u00e8re de Vendredi fit tout ce qu\u2019il put pour engager nos gens \u00e0\nse tenir clos et \u00e0 ne pas se montrer: il leur dit que leur salut\nen d\u00e9pendait, qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient d\u2019autre chose \u00e0 faire qu\u2019\u00e0 rester\ntranquilles, que les sauvages se tueraient les uns les autres et que\nles survivants, s\u2019il y en avait, s\u2019en iraient; c\u2019est ce qui arriva;\nmais il fut impossible d\u2019obtenir cela, surtout des Anglais: la\ncuriosit\u00e9 l\u2019emporta tellement en eux sur la prudence, qu\u2019ils voulurent\nabsolument sortir et \u00eatre t\u00e9moins de la bataille; toutefois ils\nus\u00e8rent de quelque pr\u00e9caution, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire qu\u2019au lieu de marcher \u00e0\nd\u00e9couvert dans le voisinage de leur habitation, ils s\u2019enfonc\u00e8rent plus\navant dans les bois, et se plac\u00e8rent dans une position avantageuse\nd\u2019o\u00f9 ils pouvaient voir en s\u00fbret\u00e9 le combat sans \u00eatre d\u00e9couverts,\ndu moins ils le pensaient; mais il para\u00eet que les sauvages les\naper\u00e7urent, comme on le verra plus tard.\nLe combat fut acharn\u00e9, et, si je puis en croire les Anglais,\nquelques-uns des combattants avaient paru \u00e0 l\u2019un des leurs des hommes\nd\u2019une grande bravoure et dou\u00e9s d\u2019une \u00e9nergie invincible, et semblaient\nmettre beaucoup d\u2019art dans la direction de la bataille. La lutte,\ndirent-ils, dura deux heures avant qu\u2019on p\u00fbt deviner \u00e0 qui resterait\nl\u2019avantage; mais alors le parti le plus rapproch\u00e9 de l\u2019habitation\nde nos gens commen\u00e7a \u00e0 ployer, et bient\u00f4t quelques-uns prirent la\nfuite. Ceci mit de nouveau les n\u00f4tres dans une grande consternation;\nils craignirent que les fuyards n\u2019allassent chercher un abri dans le\nbocage qui masquait leur habitation, et ne la d\u00e9couvrissent et que,\npar cons\u00e9quent, ceux qui les poursuivaient ne vinssent \u00e0 faire la m\u00eame\nd\u00e9couverte. Sur ce, ils r\u00e9solurent de se tenir arm\u00e9s dans l\u2019enceinte\ndes retranchements, et si quelques sauvages p\u00e9n\u00e9traient dans le\nbocage, de faire une sortie et de les tuer, afin de n\u2019en laisser\n\u00e9chapper aucun si cela \u00e9tait possible; ils d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent aussi que ce\nserait \u00e0 coups de sabre ou de crosse de fusil qu\u2019on les tuerait, et\nnon en faisant feu sur eux, de peur que le bruit ne donn\u00e2t l\u2019alarme.\nLa chose arriva comme ils l\u2019avaient pr\u00e9vu: trois hommes de l\u2019arm\u00e9e en\nd\u00e9route cherch\u00e8rent leur salut dans la fuite, et, apr\u00e8s avoir travers\u00e9\nla crique, ils coururent droit au bocage, ne soup\u00e7onnant pas le moins\ndu monde o\u00f9 ils allaient, mais croyant se r\u00e9fugier dans l\u2019\u00e9paisseur\nd\u2019un bois. La vedette post\u00e9e pour faire le guet en donna avis \u00e0 ceux\nde l\u2019int\u00e9rieur, en ajoutant, \u00e0 la satisfaction de nos gens, que les\nvainqueurs ne poursuivaient pas les fuyards et n\u2019avaient pas vu la\ndirection prise par eux. Sur quoi le gouverneur espagnol, qui \u00e9tait\nplein d\u2019humanit\u00e9, ne voulut pas permettre qu\u2019on tu\u00e2t les trois\nfugitifs; mais, exp\u00e9diant trois hommes par le haut de la colline, il\nleur ordonna de la tourner, de les prendre \u00e0 revers et de les faire\nprisonniers, ce qui fut ex\u00e9cut\u00e9. Les d\u00e9bris de l\u2019arm\u00e9e vaincue se\njet\u00e8rent dans les canots et gagn\u00e8rent la haute mer. Les vainqueurs\nse retir\u00e8rent et les poursuivirent peu ou point, mais, se r\u00e9unissant\ntous en un seul groupe, ils pouss\u00e8rent deux grands cris, qu\u2019on supposa\n\u00eatre des cris de triomphe: c\u2019est ainsi que se termina le combat. Le\nm\u00eame jour, sur les trois heures de l\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi, ils regagn\u00e8rent leurs\ncanots. Et alors les Espagnols se retrouv\u00e8rent paisibles possesseurs\nde l\u2019\u00eele, leur effroi se dissipa, et pendant plusieurs ann\u00e9es ils ne\nrevirent aucun sauvage.\nLorsqu\u2019ils furent tous partis, les Espagnols sortirent de leur grotte,\net, parcourant le champ de bataille, trouv\u00e8rent environ trente-deux\nmorts sur la place. Quelques-uns avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s avec de grandes et\nlongues fl\u00e8ches, et ils en trouv\u00e8rent plusieurs dans le corps desquels\nelles \u00e9taient rest\u00e9es plong\u00e9es; mais la plupart avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s avec\nde grands sabres de bois, dont seize ou dix-sept furent trouv\u00e9s sur le\nlieu du combat, avec un nombre \u00e9gal d\u2019arcs et une grande quantit\u00e9 de\nfl\u00e8ches. Ces sabres \u00e9taient de grosses et lourdes choses difficiles\n\u00e0 manier, et les hommes qui s\u2019en servaient devaient \u00eatre extr\u00eamement\nforts. La majeure partie de ceux qui \u00e9taient tu\u00e9s ainsi avaient la\nt\u00eate mise en pi\u00e8ces, ou, comme nous disons en Angleterre, _brains\nknocked out_,\u2014la cervelle hors du cr\u00e2ne,\u2014et en outre les jambes et les\nbras cass\u00e9s; ce qui attestait qu\u2019ils avaient combattu avec une furie\net une rage inexprimables. Tous les hommes qu\u2019on trouva l\u00e0 gisant\n\u00e9taient tout \u00e0 fait morts, car ces barbares ne quittent leur ennemi\nqu\u2019apr\u00e8s l\u2019avoir enti\u00e8rement tu\u00e9, ou emportent avec eux tous ceux qui,\ntomb\u00e9s sous leurs coups, ont encore un souffle de vie.\nLe danger auquel on venait d\u2019\u00e9chapper apprivoisa pour longtemps les\ntrois Anglais. Ce spectacle les avait remplis d\u2019horreur, et ils ne\npouvaient penser sans un sentiment d\u2019effroi qu\u2019un jour ou l\u2019autre\nils tomberaient peut-\u00eatre entre les mains de ces barbares, qui les\ntueraient non seulement comme ennemis, mais encore pour s\u2019en nourrir\ncomme nous faisons de nos bestiaux. Et ils m\u2019ont avou\u00e9 que cette id\u00e9e\nd\u2019\u00eatre mang\u00e9s comme du b\u0153uf ou du mouton, bien que cela ne d\u00fbt arriver\nqu\u2019apr\u00e8s leur mort, avait eu pour eux quelque chose de si horrible en\nsoi qu\u2019elle leur soulevait le c\u0153ur et les rendait malades, et qu\u2019elle\nleur avait rempli l\u2019esprit de terreurs si \u00e9tranges qu\u2019ils furent tout\nautres pendant quelques semaines.\nCeci, comme je le disais, eut pour effet m\u00eame d\u2019apprivoiser nos trois\nbrutes d\u2019Anglais, dont je vous ai entretenus. Ils furent longtemps\nfort traitables, et prirent assez d\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat au bien commun de la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9; ils plantaient, semaient, r\u00e9coltaient et commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 se\nfaire au pays. Mais bient\u00f4t un nouvel attentat leur suscita une foule\nde peines.\nIls avaient fait trois prisonniers, ainsi que je l\u2019ai consign\u00e9, et\ncomme ils \u00e9taient tous trois jeunes, courageux et robustes, ils en\nfirent des serviteurs, et leur apprirent \u00e0 travailler pour eux. Ils\nse montr\u00e8rent assez bons esclaves, mais leurs ma\u00eetres n\u2019en agirent\npas \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard comme j\u2019avais fait envers Vendredi: ils ne crurent\npas, apr\u00e8s leur avoir sauv\u00e9 la vie, qu\u2019il f\u00fbt de leur devoir de leur\ninculquer de sages principes de morale, de religion, de les civiliser\net de se les acqu\u00e9rir par de bons traitements et des raisonnements\naffectueux. De m\u00eame qu\u2019ils leur donnaient leur nourriture chaque\njour, chaque jour ils leur imposaient une besogne, et les occupaient\ntotalement \u00e0 de vils travaux: aussi manqu\u00e8rent-ils en cela, car ils ne\nles eurent jamais pour les assister dans un combat, comme j\u2019avais eu\nmon serviteur Vendredi, qui m\u2019\u00e9tait aussi attach\u00e9 que ma chair \u00e0 mes\nos.\nMais revenons \u00e0 nos affaires domestiques. \u00c9tant alors tous bons\namis,\u2014car le danger commun, comme je l\u2019ai dit plus haut, les avait\nparfaitement r\u00e9concili\u00e9s,\u2014ils se mirent \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer leur situation\nen g\u00e9n\u00e9ral. La premi\u00e8re chose qu\u2019ils firent, ce fut d\u2019examiner si,\nvoyant que les sauvages fr\u00e9quentaient particuli\u00e8rement le c\u00f4t\u00e9\no\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient, et l\u2019\u00eele leur offrant plus loin des lieux plus\nretir\u00e9s \u00e9galement propres \u00e0 leur mani\u00e8re de vivre et \u00e9videmment plus\navantageux, il ne serait pas convenable de transporter leur habitation\net de se fixer dans quelque endroit o\u00f9 ils trouveraient plus de\ns\u00e9curit\u00e9 pour eux, et surtout plus de s\u00fbret\u00e9 pour leurs troupeaux et\nleur grain.\nEnfin, apr\u00e8s une longue discussion, ils convinrent qu\u2019ils n\u2019iraient\npas habiter ailleurs, vu qu\u2019un jour ou l\u2019autre il pourrait leur\narriver des nouvelles de leur gouverneur, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de moi, et\nque si j\u2019envoyais quelqu\u2019un \u00e0 leur recherche, ce serait certainement\ndans cette partie de l\u2019\u00eele; que l\u00e0, trouvant la place ras\u00e9e, on en\nconclurait que les habitants avaient tous \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s par les sauvages,\net qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient partis pour l\u2019autre monde, et qu\u2019alors le secours\npartirait aussi.\nMais, quant \u00e0 leur grain et \u00e0 leur b\u00e9tail, ils r\u00e9solurent de les\ntransporter dans la vall\u00e9e o\u00f9 \u00e9tait ma caverne, le sol y \u00e9tant,\ndans une \u00e9tendue suffisante, \u00e9galement propre \u00e0 l\u2019un et \u00e0 l\u2019autre.\nToutefois, apr\u00e8s une seconde r\u00e9flexion, ils modifi\u00e8rent cette\nr\u00e9solution, et ils se d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent \u00e0 ne parquer dans ce lieu qu\u2019une\npartie de leurs bestiaux, et \u00e0 n\u2019y semer qu\u2019une portion de leur grain,\nafin que, si une partie \u00e9tait d\u00e9truite, l\u2019autre p\u00fbt \u00eatre sauv\u00e9e. Ils\nadopt\u00e8rent encore une autre mesure de prudence, et firent bien: ce\nfut de ne point laisser conna\u00eetre \u00e0 leurs trois sauvages prisonniers\nqu\u2019ils avaient des cultures et des bestiaux dans la vall\u00e9e, et encore\nmoins qu\u2019il s\u2019y trouvait une caverne qu\u2019ils regardaient comme une\nretraite s\u00fbre en cas de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9. C\u2019est l\u00e0 qu\u2019ils transport\u00e8rent les\ndeux barils de poudre que je leur avais abandonn\u00e9s lors de mon d\u00e9part.\nR\u00e9solus \u00e0 ne pas changer de demeure, et reconnaissant l\u2019utilit\u00e9 des\nsoins que j\u2019avais pris \u00e0 masquer mon habitation par une muraille\nou fortification et par un bocage, bien convaincus de cette\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 que leur salut d\u00e9pendait du secret de leur retraite, ils\nse mirent \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage afin de fortifier et cacher ce lieu encore\nplus qu\u2019auparavant. A cet effet, j\u2019avais plant\u00e9 des arbres\u2014ou\nplut\u00f4t enfonc\u00e9 des pieux qui, avec le temps, \u00e9taient devenus des\narbres.\u2014Dans un assez grand espace, devant l\u2019entr\u00e9e de mon logement,\nils remplirent, suivant la m\u00eame m\u00e9thode, tout le reste du terrain\ndepuis ces arbres jusqu\u2019au bord de la crique, o\u00f9, comme je l\u2019ai\ndit, je prenais terre avec mes radeaux, et m\u00eame jusqu\u2019au sol vaseux\nque couvrait le flot de la mar\u00e9e, ne laissant aucun endroit o\u00f9 l\u2019on\np\u00fbt d\u00e9barquer ni rien qui indiqu\u00e2t qu\u2019un d\u00e9barquement f\u00fbt possible\naux alentours. Ces pieux, comme autrefois je le mentionnai, \u00e9taient\nd\u2019un bois d\u2019une prompte v\u00e9g\u00e9tation; ils eurent soin de les choisir\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ralement beaucoup plus forts et beaucoup plus grands que ceux que\nj\u2019avais plant\u00e9s, et de les placer si drus et si serr\u00e9s, qu\u2019au bout de\ntrois ou quatre ans il \u00e9tait devenu impossible \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153il de plonger tr\u00e8s\navant dans la plantation. Quant aux arbres que j\u2019avais plant\u00e9s, ils\n\u00e9taient devenus gros comme la jambe d\u2019un homme. Ils en plac\u00e8rent dans\nles intervalles un grand nombre de plus petits, si rapproch\u00e9s qu\u2019ils\nformaient comme une palissade \u00e9paisse d\u2019un quart de mille, o\u00f9 l\u2019on\nn\u2019e\u00fbt pu p\u00e9n\u00e9trer qu\u2019avec une petite arm\u00e9e pour les abattre tous; car\nun petit chien aurait eu de la peine \u00e0 passer entre les arbres, tant\nils \u00e9taient serr\u00e9s.\nMais ce n\u2019est pas tout: ils en firent de m\u00eame sur le terrain \u00e0 droite\net \u00e0 gauche, et tout autour de la colline jusqu\u2019\u00e0 son sommet, sans\nlaisser la moindre issue par laquelle ils pussent eux-m\u00eames sortir,\nsi ce n\u2019est au moyen de l\u2019\u00e9chelle qu\u2019on appuyait contre le flanc\nde la colline, et qu\u2019on repla\u00e7ait ensuite pour gagner la cime; une\nfois cette \u00e9chelle enlev\u00e9e, il aurait fallu avoir des ailes ou des\nsortil\u00e8ges pour parvenir jusqu\u2019\u00e0 eux.\nCela \u00e9tait fort bien imagin\u00e9, et plus tard ils eurent occasion de\ns\u2019en applaudir; ce qui a servi \u00e0 me convaincre que, comme la prudence\nhumaine est justifi\u00e9e par l\u2019autorit\u00e9 de la Providence, c\u2019est la\nProvidence qui la met \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre, et si nous \u00e9coutions religieusement\nsa voix, je suis pleinement persuad\u00e9 que nous \u00e9viterions un grand\nnombre d\u2019adversit\u00e9s auxquelles notre vie est expos\u00e9e par notre propre\nn\u00e9gligence. Mais ceci soit dit en passant.\nJe reprends le fil de mon histoire. Ils v\u00e9curent depuis cette \u00e9poque\ndeux ann\u00e9es dans un calme parfait, sans recevoir de nouvelles visites\ndes sauvages. Il est vrai qu\u2019un matin ils eurent une alerte qui les\njeta dans une grande consternation; quelques-uns des Espagnols \u00e9tant\nall\u00e9s au c\u00f4t\u00e9 occidental, ou plut\u00f4t \u00e0 l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele, dans cette\npartie que, de peur d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9couvert, je ne hantais jamais, ils furent\nsurpris de voir plus de vingt canots d\u2019Indiens qui se dirigeaient vers\nle rivage.\n[Illustration: ... des Indiens qui se dirigeaient vers le rivage.]\nIls revinrent \u00e0 l\u2019habitation en toute h\u00e2te et dans l\u2019\u00e9pouvante donner\nl\u2019alarme \u00e0 leurs compagnons: on se tint clos tout ce jour-l\u00e0 et le\njour suivant, ne sortant que de nuit pour aller en observation. Mais\nils eurent le bonheur de s\u2019\u00eatre tromp\u00e9s dans leur appr\u00e9hension; car,\nquel que f\u00fbt le but des sauvages, ils ne d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent pas cette\nfois-l\u00e0 dans l\u2019\u00eele, mais poursuivirent quelque autre projet.\nIl s\u2019\u00e9leva \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque une nouvelle querelle avec les trois\nAnglais. Un de ces derniers, le plus turbulent, furieux contre un\ndes trois esclaves qu\u2019ils avaient faits prisonniers, parce qu\u2019il\nn\u2019ex\u00e9cutait pas exactement quelque chose qu\u2019il lui avait ordonn\u00e9 et\nse montrait peu docile \u00e0 ses instructions, tira de son ceinturon la\nhachette qu\u2019il portait \u00e0 son c\u00f4t\u00e9, et s\u2019\u00e9lan\u00e7a sur le pauvre sauvage,\nnon pour le corriger, mais pour le tuer. Un des Espagnols, qui \u00e9tait\npr\u00e8s de l\u00e0, le voyant porter \u00e0 ce malheureux, \u00e0 dessein de lui fendre\nla t\u00eate, un rude coup de hachette qui entra fort avant dans l\u2019\u00e9paule,\ncrut que la pauvre cr\u00e9ature avait le bras coup\u00e9; il courut \u00e0 lui, et,\nle suppliant de ne pas tuer ce malheureux, se jeta entre lui et le\nsauvage pour pr\u00e9venir le crime.\n[Illustration: Il se jeta entre lui et le sauvage... (p.344).]\nCe coquin, devenu plus furieux encore, leva sa hachette contre\nl\u2019Espagnol et jura qu\u2019il le traiterait comme il avait voulu traiter\nle sauvage. L\u2019Espagnol, voyant venir le coup, l\u2019\u00e9vita, et avec une\npelle qu\u2019il tenait \u00e0 la main,\u2014car il travaillait en ce moment au champ\nde bl\u00e9,\u2014\u00e9tendit par terre ce forcen\u00e9; un autre Anglais, accourant\nau secours de son camarade, renversa d\u2019un coup l\u2019Espagnol; puis,\ndeux Espagnols vinrent \u00e0 l\u2019aide de leur compatriote, et le troisi\u00e8me\nAnglais tomba sur eux. Aucun n\u2019avait d\u2019arme \u00e0 feu; ils n\u2019avaient que\ndes hachettes et d\u2019autres outils, \u00e0 l\u2019exception du troisi\u00e8me Anglais.\nCelui-ci \u00e9tait arm\u00e9 de l\u2019un de mes vieux coutelas rouill\u00e9s, avec\nlequel il s\u2019\u00e9lan\u00e7a sur les derniers arrivants et les blessa tous deux.\nCette bagarre mit toute la famille en rumeur; du renfort arriva, et\nles trois Anglais furent faits prisonniers. Il s\u2019agit alors de savoir\nce que l\u2019on ferait d\u2019eux. Ils s\u2019\u00e9taient montr\u00e9s si souvent mutins, si\nterribles, si paresseux, qu\u2019on ne savait trop quelle mesure prendre \u00e0\nleur \u00e9gard; car ces quelques hommes, dangereux au plus haut degr\u00e9, ne\nvalaient pas le mal qu\u2019ils donnaient. En un mot, il n\u2019y avait pas de\ns\u00e9curit\u00e9 \u00e0 vivre avec eux.\nL\u2019Espagnol qui \u00e9tait gouverneur leur dit en propres termes que s\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient ses compatriotes, il les ferait pendre, car toutes les lois\net tous les gouvernants sont institu\u00e9s pour la conservation de\nla soci\u00e9t\u00e9, et ceux qui sont nuisibles \u00e0 la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 doivent \u00eatre\nrepouss\u00e9s de son sein; mais que, comme ils \u00e9taient Anglais, et que\nc\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e0 la g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse humanit\u00e9 d\u2019un Anglais qu\u2019ils devaient tous\nleur vie et leur d\u00e9livrance, il les traiterait avec toute la douceur\npossible, et les abandonnerait au jugement des deux autres Anglais\nleurs compatriotes.\nUn des deux honn\u00eates Anglais se leva alors, et dit qu\u2019ils d\u00e9siraient\nqu\u2019on ne les chois\u00eet pas pour juges;\u2014\u00abcar, ajouta-t-il, j\u2019ai\nla conviction que notre devoir serait de les condamner \u00e0 \u00eatre\npendus.\u00bb\u2014Puis il raconta comment Will Atkins, l\u2019un des trois, leur\navait propos\u00e9 de se liguer tous les cinq pour \u00e9gorger les Espagnols\npendant leur sommeil.\nQuand le gouverneur espagnol entendit cela, il s\u2019adressa \u00e0 Will\nAtkins;\u2014\u00abComment, se\u00f1or Atkins, dit-il, vous vouliez nous tuer\ntous? Qu\u2019avez-vous \u00e0 dire \u00e0 cela?\u00bb\u2014Ce coquin endurci \u00e9tait si loin\nde le nier, qu\u2019il affirma que cela \u00e9tait vrai, et, Dieu me damne,\njura-t-il, si nous ne le faisons pas avant de d\u00e9m\u00ealer rien autre\navec vous.\u00bb\u2014\u00abFort bien; mais, se\u00f1or Atkins, dit l\u2019Espagnol, que vous\navons-nous fait pour que vous vouliez nous tuer? et que gagneriez-vous\n\u00e0 nous tuer? et que devons-nous faire pour vous emp\u00eacher de nous\ntuer? Faut-il que nous vous tuions ou que nous soyons tu\u00e9s par vous?\nPourquoi voulez-vous nous r\u00e9duire \u00e0 cette n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, se\u00f1or Atkins?\u00bb\ndit l\u2019Espagnol avec beaucoup de calme et en souriant.\nSe\u00f1or Atkins entra dans une telle rage contre l\u2019Espagnol qui avait\nfait une raillerie de cela, que, s\u2019il n\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 retenu par trois\nhommes, et sans armes, il est croyable qu\u2019il aurait tent\u00e9 de le tuer\nau milieu de toute l\u2019assembl\u00e9e.\nCette conduite insens\u00e9e les obligea \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer s\u00e9rieusement le\nparti qu\u2019ils devaient prendre. Les deux Anglais et l\u2019Espagnol qui\navait sauv\u00e9 le pauvre esclave \u00e9taient d\u2019opinion qu\u2019il fallait pendre\nl\u2019un des trois, pour l\u2019exemple des autres, et que ce devait \u00eatre\ncelui-l\u00e0 qui avait deux fois tent\u00e9 de commettre un meurtre avec sa\nhachette; et, par le fait, on aurait pu penser, non sans raison, que\nle crime \u00e9tait consomm\u00e9, car le pauvre sauvage \u00e9tait dans un \u00e9tat si\nmis\u00e9rable depuis la blessure qu\u2019il avait re\u00e7ue, qu\u2019on croyait qu\u2019il\nn\u2019y survivrait pas.\nMais le gouverneur espagnol dit encore:\u2014\u00abNon,\u00bb r\u00e9p\u00e9tant que c\u2019\u00e9tait un\nAnglais qui leur avait sauv\u00e9 la vie \u00e0 tous, et qu\u2019il ne consentirait\njamais \u00e0 mettre un Anglais \u00e0 mort, e\u00fbt-il assassin\u00e9 la moiti\u00e9 d\u2019entre\neux; il ajouta que, s\u2019il \u00e9tait lui-m\u00eame frapp\u00e9 mortellement par un\nAnglais, et qu\u2019il e\u00fbt le temps de parler, ce serait pour demander son\npardon.\nL\u2019Espagnol mit tant d\u2019insistance qu\u2019il n\u2019y eut pas moyen de lui\nr\u00e9sister; et, comme les conseils de la cl\u00e9mence pr\u00e9valent presque\ntoujours lorsqu\u2019ils sont appuy\u00e9s avec tant de chaleur, tous se\nrendirent \u00e0 son sentiment. Mais il restait \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ce qu\u2019on\nferait pour emp\u00eacher ces gens-l\u00e0 de faire le mal qu\u2019ils pr\u00e9m\u00e9ditaient;\ncar tous convinrent, le gouverneur aussi bien que les autres, qu\u2019il\nfallait trouver le moyen de mettre la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019abri du danger.\nApr\u00e8s un long d\u00e9bat, il fut arr\u00eat\u00e9 tout d\u2019abord qu\u2019ils seraient\nd\u00e9sarm\u00e9s, et qu\u2019on ne leur permettrait d\u2019avoir ni fusils, ni poudre,\nni plomb, ni sabres, ni arme quelconque; qu\u2019on les expulserait de la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9, et qu\u2019on les laisserait vivre comme ils voudraient et comme\nils pourraient; mais qu\u2019aucun des autres, Espagnols ou Anglais, ne\nles fr\u00e9quenterait, ne leur parlerait et n\u2019aurait avec eux la moindre\nrelation; qu\u2019on leur d\u00e9fendrait d\u2019approcher \u00e0 une certaine distance\ndu lieu o\u00f9 habitaient les autres, et que s\u2019ils venaient \u00e0 commettre\nquelque d\u00e9sordre, comme de ravager, de br\u00fbler, de tuer, ou de d\u00e9truire\nle bl\u00e9, les cultures, les constructions, les enclos ou le b\u00e9tail\nappartenant \u00e0 la soci\u00e9t\u00e9, on les ferait mourir sans mis\u00e9ricorde et on\nles fusillerait partout o\u00f9 on les trouverait.\nLe gouverneur, homme d\u2019une grande humanit\u00e9, r\u00e9fl\u00e9chit quelques\ninstants sur cette sentence; puis, se tournant vers les deux honn\u00eates\nAnglais:\u2014\u00abArr\u00eatez, leur dit-il; songez qu\u2019il s\u2019\u00e9coulera bien du temps\navant qu\u2019ils puissent avoir du bl\u00e9 et des troupeaux \u00e0 eux; il ne\nfaut pas qu\u2019ils meurent de faim; nous devons donc leur accorder des\nprovisions.\u00bb\u2014Il fit donc ajouter \u00e0 la sentence qu\u2019on leur donnerait\nune certaine quantit\u00e9 de bl\u00e9 pour semer et se nourrir pendant huit\nmois, apr\u00e8s lequel temps il \u00e9tait pr\u00e9sumable qu\u2019ils en auraient\nprovenant de leur r\u00e9colte; qu\u2019en outre on leur donnerait six ch\u00e8vres\nlaiti\u00e8res, quatre boucs, six chevreaux pour leur subsistance actuelle\net leur approvisionnement, et enfin des outils pour travailler aux\nchamps, tels que six hachettes, une hache, une scie et autres objets;\nmais qu\u2019on ne leur remettrait ni outils ni provisions, \u00e0 moins qu\u2019ils\nne jurassent solennellement qu\u2019avec ces instruments ils ne feraient ni\nmal ni outrage aux Espagnols et \u00e0 leurs camarades anglais.\nC\u2019est ainsi qu\u2019expuls\u00e9s de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9, ils eurent \u00e0 se tirer d\u2019affaire\npar eux-m\u00eames. Ils s\u2019\u00e9loign\u00e8rent hargneux et r\u00e9calcitrants; mais,\ncomme il n\u2019y avait pas de rem\u00e8de, jouant les gens \u00e0 qui il \u00e9tait\nindiff\u00e9rent de partir ou de rester, ils d\u00e9guerpirent, pr\u00e9tendant\nqu\u2019ils allaient se choisir une place pour s\u2019y \u00e9tablir, y planter et\ny pourvoir \u00e0 leur existence. On leur donna quelques provisions, mais\npoint d\u2019armes.\nQuatre ou cinq jours apr\u00e8s, ils revinrent demander des aliments, et\nd\u00e9sign\u00e8rent au gouverneur le lieu o\u00f9 ils avaient dress\u00e9 leurs tentes\net trac\u00e9 l\u2019emplacement de leur habitation et de leur plantation.\nL\u2019endroit \u00e9tait effectivement tr\u00e8s convenable, situ\u00e9 au nord-est,\ndans la partie la plus recul\u00e9e de l\u2019\u00eele, non loin du lieu o\u00f9, gr\u00e2ce \u00e0\nla Providence, j\u2019abordai lors de mon premier voyage apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9t\u00e9\nemport\u00e9 en pleine mer, Dieu seul sait o\u00f9! dans ma folle tentative de\nfaire le tour de l\u2019\u00eele.\nL\u00e0, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s sur le plan de ma premi\u00e8re habitation, ils se b\u00e2tirent\ndeux belles huttes, qu\u2019ils adoss\u00e8rent \u00e0 une colline ayant d\u00e9j\u00e0\nquelques arbres parsem\u00e9s sur trois de ses c\u00f4t\u00e9s; de sorte qu\u2019en en\nplantant d\u2019autres, il fut facile de les cacher, de mani\u00e8re qu\u2019elles\nne pussent \u00eatre aper\u00e7ues sans beaucoup de recherches.\u2014Ces exil\u00e9s\nexprim\u00e8rent aussi le d\u00e9sir d\u2019avoir quelques peaux de bouc s\u00e9ch\u00e9es pour\nleur servir de lits et de couvertures; on leur en accorda, et, ayant\ndonn\u00e9 leur parole qu\u2019ils ne troubleraient personne et respecteraient\nles plantations, on leur remit des hachettes et les autres outils\ndont on pouvait se priver; des pois, de l\u2019orge et du riz pour semer;\nen un mot, tout ce qui leur \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire, sauf des armes et des\nmunitions.\nIls v\u00e9curent ainsi \u00e0 part environ six mois, et firent leur premi\u00e8re\nr\u00e9colte; \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, cette r\u00e9colte fut peu de chose, car ils\nn\u2019avaient pu ensemencer qu\u2019une petite \u00e9tendue de terrain, ayant toutes\nleurs plantations \u00e0 \u00e9tablir, et par cons\u00e9quent beaucoup d\u2019ouvrage sur\nles bras. Lorsqu\u2019il leur fallut faire des planches, de la poterie\net autres choses semblables, ils se trouv\u00e8rent fort emp\u00each\u00e9s et ne\npurent y r\u00e9ussir; quand vint la saison des pluies, n\u2019ayant pas de\ncaverne, ils ne purent tenir leur grain sec, et il fut en grand danger\nde se g\u00e2ter: ceci les contrista beaucoup. Ils vinrent donc supplier\nles Espagnols de les aider, ce que ceux-ci firent volontiers, et en\nquatre jours on leur creusa dans le flanc de la colline un trou assez\ngrand pour mettre \u00e0 l\u2019abri de la pluie leur grain et leurs autres\nprovisions; mais c\u2019\u00e9tait apr\u00e8s tout une triste grotte, compar\u00e9e \u00e0\nla mienne et surtout \u00e0 ce qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait alors; car les Espagnols\nl\u2019avaient beaucoup agrandie et y avaient pratiqu\u00e9 de nouveaux\nlogements.\nEnviron trois trimestres apr\u00e8s cette s\u00e9paration, il prit \u00e0 ces\nchenapans une nouvelle lubie, qui, jointe aux premiers brigandages\nqu\u2019ils avaient commis, attira sur eux le malheur et faillit causer\nla ruine de la colonie tout enti\u00e8re. Les trois nouveaux associ\u00e9s\ncommen\u00e7aient, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, \u00e0 se fatiguer de la vie laborieuse\nqu\u2019ils menaient sans espoir d\u2019am\u00e9liorer leur condition; il leur\nvint la fantaisie de faire un voyage au continent d\u2019o\u00f9 venaient les\nsauvages, afin d\u2019essayer s\u2019ils ne pourraient pas r\u00e9ussir \u00e0 s\u2019emparer\nde quelques prisonniers parmi les naturels du pays, les emmener dans\nleur plantation, et se d\u00e9charger sur eux des travaux les plus p\u00e9nibles.\nCe projet n\u2019\u00e9tait pas mal entendu s\u2019ils se fussent born\u00e9s \u00e0 cela;\nmais ils ne faisaient rien et ne se proposaient rien o\u00f9 il n\u2019y e\u00fbt du\nmal soit dans l\u2019intention, soit dans le r\u00e9sultat; et, si je puis dire\nmon opinion, il semblait qu\u2019ils fussent plac\u00e9s sous la mal\u00e9diction\ndu ciel; car si nous n\u2019accordons pas que des crimes visibles sont\npoursuivis de ch\u00e2timents visibles, comment concilierons-nous les\n\u00e9v\u00e9nements avec la justice divine? Ce fut sans doute en punition\nmanifeste de leurs crimes de r\u00e9bellion et de piraterie qu\u2019ils\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9s \u00e0 la position o\u00f9 ils se trouvaient; mais, bien\nloin de montrer le moindre remords de ces crimes, ils y ajoutaient\nde nouvelles sc\u00e9l\u00e9ratesses, telles que cette cruaut\u00e9 monstrueuse de\nblesser un pauvre esclave parce qu\u2019il n\u2019ex\u00e9cutait pas ou peut-\u00eatre ne\ncomprenait pas l\u2019ordre qui lui \u00e9tait donn\u00e9, de le blesser de telle\nmani\u00e8re que sans nul doute il en est rest\u00e9 estropi\u00e9 toute sa vie,\net dans un lieu o\u00f9 il n\u2019y avait, pour le gu\u00e9rir, ni chirurgien ni\nm\u00e9dicaments; mais le pire de tout, ce fut leur dessein sanguinaire,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire, tout bien jug\u00e9, leur meurtre intentionnel, car, \u00e0\ncoup s\u00fbr, c\u2019en \u00e9tait un, ainsi que plus tard leur projet concert\u00e9\nd\u2019assassiner de sang-froid les Espagnols durant leur sommeil.\nJe laisse les r\u00e9flexions, et je reprends mon r\u00e9cit. Les trois vauriens\nvinrent un matin trouver les Espagnols, et en de tr\u00e8s humbles\ntermes demand\u00e8rent instamment \u00e0 \u00eatre admis \u00e0 leur parler. Ceux-ci\nconsentirent volontiers \u00e0 entendre ce qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e0 leur dire.\nVoil\u00e0 de quoi il s\u2019agissait:\u2014\u00abNous sommes fatigu\u00e9s, dirent-ils, de\nla vie que nous menons; nous ne sommes pas assez habiles pour faire\nnous-m\u00eames tout ce dont nous avons besoin, et, manquant d\u2019aide,\nnous aurions \u00e0 redouter de mourir de faim; mais si vous vouliez nous\npermettre de prendre l\u2019un des canots dans lesquels vous \u00eates venus, et\nnous donner les armes et les munitions n\u00e9cessaires pour notre d\u00e9fense,\nnous gagnerions le continent pour chercher fortune, et nous vous\nd\u00e9livrerions ainsi du soin de nous pourvoir de nouvelles provisions.\u00bb\nLes Espagnols \u00e9taient assez enchant\u00e9s d\u2019\u00eatre d\u00e9barrass\u00e9s d\u2019eux.\nCependant ils leur repr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent avec franchise qu\u2019ils allaient\ncourir \u00e0 une mort certaine, et leur dirent qu\u2019eux-m\u00eames avaient\n\u00e9prouv\u00e9 dans ce lieu de telles souffrances, que, sans \u00eatre proph\u00e8tes,\nils pouvaient leur pr\u00e9dire qu\u2019ils y mourraient de faim ou y seraient\nassassin\u00e9s. Ils les engag\u00e8rent \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir \u00e0 cela.\nCes hommes r\u00e9pondirent audacieusement qu\u2019ils mourraient de faim s\u2019ils\nrestaient, car ils ne pouvaient ni ne voulaient travailler; que\nlorsqu\u2019ils seraient l\u00e0-bas, le pire qui pourrait leur arriver, c\u2019\u00e9tait\nde p\u00e9rir d\u2019inanition; que si on les tuait, tout serait fini pour\neux, qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient ni femmes ni enfants pour les pleurer. Bref,\nils renouvel\u00e8rent leur demande avec instance, d\u00e9clarant que de toute\nmani\u00e8re ils partiraient, qu\u2019on leur donn\u00e2t ou non des armes.\nLes Espagnols leur dirent, avec beaucoup de bont\u00e9, que, s\u2019ils \u00e9taient\nabsolument d\u00e9cid\u00e9s \u00e0 partir, ils ne devaient pas se mettre en route\nd\u00e9nu\u00e9s de tout et sans moyens de d\u00e9fense, et que, bien qu\u2019il leur f\u00fbt\np\u00e9nible de se d\u00e9faire de leurs armes \u00e0 feu, n\u2019en ayant pas assez pour\neux-m\u00eames, cependant ils leur donneraient deux mousquets, un pistolet,\net de plus un coutelas et \u00e0 chacun une hachette, qu\u2019ils jugeaient\ndevoir leur suffire.\nEn un mot, les Anglais accept\u00e8rent cette offre, et les Espagnols leur\nayant cuit assez de pain pour subsister pendant un mois et leur ayant\ndonn\u00e9 autant de viande de ch\u00e8vre qu\u2019ils en pourraient manger pendant\nqu\u2019elle serait fra\u00eeche, ainsi qu\u2019un grand panier de raisins secs,\nune cruche d\u2019eau douce et un jeune chevreau vivant, ils mont\u00e8rent\nhardiment dans un canot pour traverser une mer qui avait au moins\nquarante milles de large.\nCe canot \u00e9tait grand, et aurait pu ais\u00e9ment transporter quinze ou\nvingt hommes: aussi ne pouvaient-ils le man\u0153uvrer que difficilement;\ntoutefois, \u00e0 la faveur d\u2019une bonne brise et du flot de la mar\u00e9e, ils\ns\u2019en tir\u00e8rent assez bien. Ils s\u2019\u00e9taient fait un m\u00e2t d\u2019une longue\nperche, et une voile de quatre grandes peaux de bouc s\u00e9ch\u00e9es qu\u2019ils\navaient cousues ou lac\u00e9es ensemble; et ils \u00e9taient partis assez\njoyeusement. Les Espagnols leur cri\u00e8rent: \u00abBuen viage!\u00bb Personne ne\npensait les revoir.\nLes Espagnols se disaient souvent les uns aux autres, ainsi que les\ndeux honn\u00eates Anglais qui \u00e9taient rest\u00e9s:\u2014\u00abQuelle vie tranquille et\nconfortable nous menons maintenant que ces trois turbulents compagnons\nsont partis!\u00bb\u2014Quant \u00e0 leur retour, c\u2019\u00e9tait la chose la plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e\nde leur pens\u00e9e. Mais voici qu\u2019apr\u00e8s vingt-deux jours d\u2019absence, un\ndes Anglais, qui travaillait dehors \u00e0 sa plantation, aper\u00e7oit au loin\ntrois \u00e9trangers qui venaient \u00e0 lui: deux d\u2019entre eux portaient un\nfusil sur l\u2019\u00e9paule.\n[Illustration: ... trois \u00e9trangers qui venaient \u00e0 lui...]\nL\u2019Anglais s\u2019enfuit comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ensorcel\u00e9. Il accourut\nboulevers\u00e9 et effray\u00e9 vers le gouverneur espagnol, et lui dit qu\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient tous perdus, car des \u00e9trangers avaient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 dans l\u2019\u00eele;\nil ne put dire qui ils \u00e9taient. L\u2019Espagnol, apr\u00e8s avoir r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi un\nmoment, lui r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abQue voulez-vous dire? Vous ne savez pas qui\nils sont? mais ce sont des sauvages s\u00fbrement.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, non, repartit\nl\u2019Anglais, ce sont des hommes v\u00eatus et arm\u00e9s.\u00bb\u2014\u00abAlors donc, dit\nl\u2019Espagnol, pourquoi vous mettez-vous en peine? Si ce ne sont pas des\nsauvages, ce ne peut \u00eatre que des amis, car il n\u2019est pas de nation\nchr\u00e9tienne sur la terre qui ne soit dispos\u00e9e \u00e0 nous faire plut\u00f4t du\nbien que du mal.\u00bb\nPendant qu\u2019ils discutaient ainsi, arriv\u00e8rent les trois Anglais, qui,\ns\u2019arr\u00eatant en dehors du bois nouvellement plant\u00e9, se mirent \u00e0 les\nappeler. On reconnut aussit\u00f4t leur voix, et tout le merveilleux de\nl\u2019aventure s\u2019\u00e9vanouit. Mais alors l\u2019\u00e9tonnement se porta sur un autre\nobjet, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire qu\u2019on se demanda quels \u00e9taient leur dessein et le\nmotif de leur retour.\nBient\u00f4t on fit entrer nos trois coureurs, et on les questionna sur\nle lieu o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient all\u00e9s et sur ce qu\u2019ils avaient fait. En peu\nde mots ils racont\u00e8rent tout leur voyage. Ils avaient, dirent-ils,\natteint la terre en deux jours ou un peu moins; mais, voyant les\nhabitants alarm\u00e9s \u00e0 leur approche et s\u2019armant de leurs arcs et de\nleurs fl\u00e8ches pour les combattre, ils n\u2019avaient pas os\u00e9 d\u00e9barquer,\net avaient fait voile au nord pendant six ou sept heures; alors ils\n\u00e9taient arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 un grand chenal, qui leur fit reconna\u00eetre que la\nterre qu\u2019on d\u00e9couvrait de notre domaine n\u2019\u00e9tait pas le continent, mais\nune \u00eele. Apr\u00e8s \u00eatre entr\u00e9s dans ce bras de mer, ils avaient aper\u00e7u\nune autre \u00eele \u00e0 droite, vers le nord, et plusieurs autres \u00e0 l\u2019ouest.\nD\u00e9cid\u00e9s \u00e0 aborder n\u2019importe o\u00f9, ils s\u2019\u00e9taient dirig\u00e9s vers l\u2019une des\n\u00eeles situ\u00e9es \u00e0 l\u2019ouest, et \u00e9taient hardiment descendus au rivage.\nL\u00e0 ils avaient trouv\u00e9 des habitants affables et bienveillants, qui\nleur avaient donn\u00e9 quantit\u00e9 de racines et quelques poissons secs,\net s\u2019\u00e9taient montr\u00e9s tr\u00e8s sociables. Les femmes aussi bien que les\nhommes s\u2019\u00e9taient empress\u00e9s de les pourvoir de tous les aliments qu\u2019ils\navaient pu se procurer, et qu\u2019ils avaient apport\u00e9s de fort loin sur\nleur t\u00eate.\nIls demeur\u00e8rent quatre jours parmi ces naturels. Leur ayant demand\u00e9\npar signes, du mieux qu\u2019il leur \u00e9tait possible, quelles \u00e9taient les\nnations environnantes, ceux-ci r\u00e9pondirent que presque de tous c\u00f4t\u00e9s\nhabitaient des peuples farouches et terribles qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils leur\ndonn\u00e8rent \u00e0 entendre, avaient coutume de manger des hommes. Quant\n\u00e0 eux, ils dirent qu\u2019ils ne mangeaient jamais ni hommes ni femmes,\nexcept\u00e9 ceux qu\u2019ils prenaient \u00e0 la guerre; puis, ils avou\u00e8rent qu\u2019ils\nfaisaient de grands festins avec la chair de leurs prisonniers.\nLes Anglais leur demand\u00e8rent \u00e0 quelle \u00e9poque ils avaient fait un\nbanquet de cette nature; les sauvages leur r\u00e9pondirent qu\u2019il y avait\nde cela deux lunes, montrant la lune, puis deux de leurs doigts;\net que leur grand Roi avait deux cents prisonniers de guerre qu\u2019on\nengraissait pour le prochain festin. Nos hommes parurent excessivement\nd\u00e9sireux de voir ces prisonniers; mais les autres, se m\u00e9prenant,\ns\u2019imagin\u00e8rent qu\u2019ils d\u00e9siraient qu\u2019on leur en donn\u00e2t pour les emmener\net les manger, et leur firent entendre, en indiquant d\u2019abord le soleil\ncouchant, puis le levant, que le lendemain matin au lever du soleil\nils leur en am\u00e8neraient quelques-uns. En cons\u00e9quence, le matin suivant\nils amen\u00e8rent cinq femmes et onze hommes,\u2014et les leur donn\u00e8rent pour\nles transporter avec eux,\u2014comme on conduirait des vaches et des b\u0153ufs\n\u00e0 un port de mer pour ravitailler un vaisseau.\nTout brutaux et barbares que ces vauriens se fussent montr\u00e9s chez\neux, leur c\u0153ur se souleva \u00e0 cette vue, et ils ne surent que r\u00e9soudre:\nrefuser les prisonniers c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 un affront sanglant pour la nation\nsauvage qui les leur offrait; mais qu\u2019en faire, ils ne le savaient.\nCependant, apr\u00e8s quelques d\u00e9bats, ils se d\u00e9termin\u00e8rent \u00e0 les accepter,\net ils donn\u00e8rent en retour aux sauvages qui les leur avaient amen\u00e9s\nune de leurs hachettes, une vieille clef, un couteau et six ou sept de\nleurs balles: bien qu\u2019ils en ignorassent l\u2019usage, ils en sembl\u00e8rent\nextr\u00eamement satisfaits; puis, les sauvages ayant li\u00e9 sur le dos les\nmains des pauvres cr\u00e9atures, ils les tra\u00een\u00e8rent dans le canot.\nLes Anglais furent oblig\u00e9s de partir aussit\u00f4t apr\u00e8s les avoir re\u00e7us,\ncar ceux qui leur avaient fait ce noble pr\u00e9sent se seraient, sans\naucun doute, attendus \u00e0 ce que le lendemain matin ils se missent \u00e0\nl\u2019\u0153uvre sur ces captifs, en tuassent deux ou trois et peut-\u00eatre les\ninvitassent \u00e0 partager leur repas.\nMais, ayant pris cong\u00e9 des sauvages avec tout le respect et la\npolitesse possibles entre gens qui, de part et d\u2019autre, n\u2019entendent\npas un mot de ce qu\u2019ils se disent, ils mirent \u00e0 la voile et revinrent\n\u00e0 la premi\u00e8re \u00eele, o\u00f9, en arrivant, ils donn\u00e8rent la libert\u00e9 \u00e0 huit de\nleurs captifs, dont ils avaient un trop grand nombre.\nPendant le voyage, ils t\u00e2ch\u00e8rent d\u2019entrer en communication avec leurs\nprisonniers; mais il \u00e9tait impossible de leur faire entendre quoi\nque ce f\u00fbt. A chaque chose qu\u2019on leur disait, qu\u2019on leur donnait ou\nfaisait, ils croyaient qu\u2019on allait les tuer. Quand ils se mirent \u00e0\nles d\u00e9lier, ces pauvres mis\u00e9rables jet\u00e8rent de grands cris, surtout\nles femmes, comme si d\u00e9j\u00e0 elles se fussent senti le couteau sur la\ngorge, s\u2019imaginant qu\u2019on ne les d\u00e9tachait que pour les assassiner.\nIl en \u00e9tait de m\u00eame si on leur donnait \u00e0 manger; ils en concluaient\nque c\u2019\u00e9tait de peur qu\u2019ils ne d\u00e9p\u00e9rissent et qu\u2019ils ne fussent pas\nassez gras pour \u00eatre tu\u00e9s. Si l\u2019un d\u2019eux \u00e9tait regard\u00e9 d\u2019une mani\u00e8re\nplus particuli\u00e8re, il s\u2019imaginait que c\u2019\u00e9tait pour voir s\u2019il \u00e9tait\nle plus gras et le plus propre \u00e0 \u00eatre tu\u00e9 le premier. Apr\u00e8s m\u00eame que\nles Anglais les eurent amen\u00e9s dans l\u2019\u00eele et qu\u2019ils eurent commenc\u00e9 \u00e0\nen user avec bont\u00e9 \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard et \u00e0 les bien traiter, ils ne s\u2019en\nattendaient pas moins chaque jour \u00e0 servir de d\u00eener ou de souper \u00e0\nleurs nouveaux ma\u00eetres.\nQuand les trois aventuriers eurent termin\u00e9 cet \u00e9trange r\u00e9cit ou\njournal de leur voyage, les Espagnols leur demand\u00e8rent o\u00f9 \u00e9tait leur\nnouvelle famille. Ils leur r\u00e9pondirent qu\u2019ils l\u2019avaient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9e et\nplac\u00e9e dans l\u2019une de leurs huttes et qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient venus demander\nquelques vivres pour elle. Sur quoi les Espagnols et les deux autres\nAnglais, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire la colonie tout enti\u00e8re, r\u00e9solurent d\u2019aller la\nvoir, et c\u2019est ce qu\u2019ils firent: le p\u00e8re de Vendredi les accompagna.\nQuand ils entr\u00e8rent dans la hutte, ils les virent assis et garrott\u00e9s,\ncar lorsque les Anglais avaient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 ces pauvres gens, ils leur\navaient li\u00e9 les mains, afin qu\u2019ils ne pussent s\u2019emparer du canot et\ns\u2019\u00e9chapper; ils \u00e9taient donc l\u00e0 assis, enti\u00e8rement nus. D\u2019abord il y\navait trois hommes vigoureux, beaux gar\u00e7ons, bien d\u00e9coupl\u00e9s, droits\net bien proportionn\u00e9s, pouvant avoir de trente \u00e0 trente-cinq ans; puis\ncinq femmes, dont deux paraissaient avoir de trente \u00e0 quarante ans;\ndeux autres n\u2019ayant pas plus de vingt-quatre ou vingt-cinq ans, et une\ncinqui\u00e8me, grande et belle fille de seize \u00e0 dix-sept ans. Les femmes\n\u00e9taient d\u2019agr\u00e9ables personnes aussi belles de corps que de visage,\nseulement elles \u00e9taient basan\u00e9es; deux d\u2019entre elles, si elles eussent\n\u00e9t\u00e9 parfaitement blanches, auraient pass\u00e9 pour de jolies femmes, m\u00eame\n\u00e0 Londres, car elles avaient un air fort avenant et une contenance\nfort modeste, surtout lorsque par la suite elles furent v\u00eatues et\npar\u00e9es, comme ils disaient, bien qu\u2019\u00e0 vrai dire, ce f\u00fbt peu de chose\nque cette parure. Nous y reviendrons.\nCette vue, on n\u2019en saurait douter, avait quelque chose de p\u00e9nible pour\nnos Espagnols, qui, c\u2019est justice \u00e0 leur rendre, \u00e9taient des hommes\nde la conduite la plus noble, du calme le plus grand, du caract\u00e8re\nle plus grave, et de l\u2019humeur la plus parfaite que j\u2019aie jamais\nrencontr\u00e9e, et en particulier d\u2019une tr\u00e8s grande modestie, comme on va\nle voir tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure. Je disais donc qu\u2019il \u00e9tait fort p\u00e9nible pour\neux de voir trois hommes et cinq femmes nus, tous garrott\u00e9s ensemble\net dans la position la plus mis\u00e9rable o\u00f9 la nature humaine puisse \u00eatre\nsuppos\u00e9e, s\u2019attendant \u00e0 chaque instant \u00e0 \u00eatre arrach\u00e9s de ce lieu, \u00e0\navoir le cr\u00e2ne fracass\u00e9 et \u00e0 \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s comme un veau tu\u00e9 pour un\ngala.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose qu\u2019ils firent fut d\u2019envoyer le vieil Indien, le\np\u00e8re de Vendredi, aupr\u00e8s d\u2019eux, afin de voir s\u2019il en reconna\u00eetrait\nquelqu\u2019un, et s\u2019il comprendrait leur langue. D\u00e8s que ce vieillard fut\nentr\u00e9, il les regarda avec attention l\u2019un apr\u00e8s l\u2019autre, mais n\u2019en\nreconnut aucun; et aucun d\u2019eux ne put comprendre une seule des paroles\nou un seul des signes qu\u2019il leur adressait, \u00e0 l\u2019exception d\u2019une des\nfemmes.\nN\u00e9anmoins ce fut assez pour le but qu\u2019on se proposait, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\npour les assurer que les gens entre les mains desquels ils \u00e9taient\ntomb\u00e9s \u00e9taient des chr\u00e9tiens, auxquels l\u2019action de manger des hommes\net des femmes faisait horreur, et qu\u2019ils pouvaient \u00eatre certains qu\u2019on\nne les tuerait pas. Aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils eurent l\u2019assurance de cela, ils\nfirent \u00e9clater une telle joie, et par des manifestations si grotesques\net si diverses, qu\u2019il serait difficile de la d\u00e9crire: il para\u00eet qu\u2019ils\nappartenaient \u00e0 des nations diff\u00e9rentes.\nOn chargea ensuite la femme qui servait d\u2019interpr\u00e8te de leur demander\ns\u2019ils consentaient \u00e0 \u00eatre les serviteurs des hommes qui les avaient\nemmen\u00e9s dans le but de leur sauver la vie, et \u00e0 travailler pour eux.\nA cette question ils se mirent tous \u00e0 danser; et aussit\u00f4t l\u2019un prit\nune chose, l\u2019autre une autre, enfin tout ce qui se trouvait sous leurs\nmains, et le pla\u00e7aient sur leurs \u00e9paules, pour faire conna\u00eetre par l\u00e0\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s dispos\u00e9s \u00e0 travailler.\nLe gouverneur, qui pr\u00e9vit que la pr\u00e9sence de ces femmes parmi eux\nne tarderait pas \u00e0 avoir des inconv\u00e9nients, et pourrait occasionner\nquelques querelles et peut-\u00eatre des rixes sanglantes, demanda aux\ntrois Anglais comment ils entendaient traiter leurs prisonni\u00e8res, et\ns\u2019ils se proposaient d\u2019en faire leurs servantes ou leurs femmes? L\u2019un\nd\u2019eux r\u00e9pondit brusquement et hardiment qu\u2019ils en feraient l\u2019un et\nl\u2019autre. A quoi le gouverneur r\u00e9pliqua:\u2014\u00abMon intention n\u2019est pas de\nvous en emp\u00eacher; vous \u00eates ma\u00eetres \u00e0 cet \u00e9gard. Mais je pense qu\u2019il\nest juste, afin d\u2019\u00e9viter parmi vous les d\u00e9sordres et les querelles,\net je l\u2019attends de votre part par cette raison seulement, que si\nquelqu\u2019un de vous prend une de ces cr\u00e9atures pour femme ou pour\n\u00e9pouse, il n\u2019en prenne qu\u2019une, et qu\u2019une fois prise il lui donne\nprotection; car, bien que nous ne puissions vous marier, la raison\nn\u2019en exige pas moins que, tant que vous resterez ici, la femme que\nl\u2019un de vous aura choisie soit \u00e0 sa charge et devienne son \u00e9pouse; je\nveux dire, ajouta-t-il, que tant qu\u2019il r\u00e9sidera ici, nul autre que lui\nn\u2019ait affaire \u00e0 elle.\u00bb\u2014Tout cela parut si juste que chacun y donna son\nassentiment sans nulle difficult\u00e9.\nAlors les Anglais demand\u00e8rent aux Espagnols s\u2019ils avaient l\u2019intention\nde prendre quelqu\u2019une de ces sauvages. Mais tous r\u00e9pondirent: \u00abNon.\u00bb\nLes uns dirent qu\u2019ils avaient leurs femmes en Espagne, les autres\nqu\u2019ils ne voulaient pas de femmes qui n\u2019\u00e9taient pas chr\u00e9tiennes; et\ntous d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent qu\u2019ils les respecteraient, ce qui est un exemple\nde vertu que je n\u2019ai jamais rencontr\u00e9 dans tous mes voyages. Pour\ncouper court de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, les cinq Anglais prirent chacun une femme,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire une femme temporaire; et depuis ils men\u00e8rent un nouveau\ngenre de vie. Les Espagnols et le p\u00e8re de Vendredi demeuraient dans\nma vieille habitation, qu\u2019ils avaient beaucoup \u00e9largie \u00e0 l\u2019int\u00e9rieur,\net avec eux les trois serviteurs qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient acquis lors de\nla derni\u00e8re bataille des sauvages. C\u2019\u00e9taient les principaux de\nla colonie; ils pourvoyaient de vivres tous les autres, ils leur\npr\u00eataient toute l\u2019assistance possible, et selon que la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 le\nrequ\u00e9rait.\nLe prodigieux de cette histoire est que cinq individus insociables et\nmal assortis se soient accord\u00e9s au sujet de ces femmes, et que deux\nd\u2019entre eux n\u2019aient pas choisi la m\u00eame, d\u2019autant plus qu\u2019il y en avait\ndeux ou trois parmi elles qui \u00e9taient sans comparaison plus agr\u00e9ables\nque les autres. Mais ils trouv\u00e8rent un assez bon exp\u00e9dient pour \u00e9viter\nles querelles: ils mirent les cinq femmes \u00e0 part dans l\u2019une des huttes\net all\u00e8rent tous dans l\u2019autre, puis tir\u00e8rent au sort \u00e0 qui choisirait\nle premier.\n[Illustration: Ils tir\u00e8rent au sort \u00e0 qui choisirait le premier.]\nCelui d\u00e9sign\u00e9 pour choisir le premier alla seul \u00e0 la hutte o\u00f9 se\ntrouvaient les pauvres cr\u00e9atures toutes nues, et emmena l\u2019objet\nde son choix. Il est digne d\u2019observation que celui qui choisit le\npremier prit celle qu\u2019on regardait comme la moins bien et qui \u00e9tait\nla plus \u00e2g\u00e9e des cinq, ce qui mit en belle humeur ses compagnons:\nles Espagnols m\u00eame en sourirent. Mais le gaillard, plus clairvoyant\nqu\u2019aucun d\u2019eux, consid\u00e9rait que c\u2019est autant de l\u2019application et du\ntravail que de toute autre chose qu\u2019il faut attendre le bien-\u00eatre; et,\nen effet, cette femme fut la meilleure de toutes.\nQuand les captives se virent ainsi rang\u00e9es sur une file, puis emmen\u00e9es\nune \u00e0 une, les terreurs de leur situation les assaillirent de nouveau,\net elles crurent fermement qu\u2019elles \u00e9taient sur le point d\u2019\u00eatre\nd\u00e9vor\u00e9es. Aussi, lorsque le matelot anglais entra et en emmena une,\nles autres pouss\u00e8rent un cri lamentable, se pendirent apr\u00e8s elle et\nlui dirent adieu avec tant de douleur et d\u2019affection que le c\u0153ur\nle plus dur du monde en aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9chir\u00e9. Il fut impossible aux\nAnglais de leur faire comprendre qu\u2019elles ne seraient pas \u00e9gorg\u00e9es\navant qu\u2019ils eussent fait venir le vieux p\u00e8re de Vendredi, qui,\nsur-le-champ, leur apprit que les cinq hommes qui \u00e9taient all\u00e9s les\nchercher l\u2019une apr\u00e8s l\u2019autre les avaient choisies pour femmes.\nApr\u00e8s que cela fut fait, et que l\u2019effroi des femmes fut un peu\ndissip\u00e9, les hommes se mirent \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage. Les Espagnols vinrent les\naider, et en peu d\u2019heures on leur eut \u00e9lev\u00e9 \u00e0 chacun une hutte ou\ntente pour se loger \u00e0 part, car celles qu\u2019ils avaient d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e9taient\nencombr\u00e9es d\u2019outils, d\u2019ustensiles de m\u00e9nage et de provisions.\nLes trois coquins s\u2019\u00e9taient \u00e9tablis un peu plus loin que les deux\nhonn\u00eates gens, mais les uns et les autres sur le rivage septentrional\nde l\u2019\u00eele; de sorte qu\u2019ils continu\u00e8rent \u00e0 vivre s\u00e9par\u00e9ment. Mon \u00eele fut\ndonc peupl\u00e9e en trois endroits, et pour ainsi dire on venait d\u2019y jeter\nles fondements de trois villes.\nIci il est bon d\u2019observer que, ainsi que cela arrive souvent dans le\nmonde,\u2014la Providence, dans la sagesse de ses fins, en dispose-t-elle\nainsi? c\u2019est ce que j\u2019ignore,\u2014les deux honn\u00eates gens eurent les plus\nmauvaises femmes en partage, et les trois r\u00e9prouv\u00e9s, qui \u00e9taient\n\u00e0 peine dignes de la potence, qui n\u2019\u00e9taient bons \u00e0 rien et qui\nsemblaient n\u00e9s pour ne faire du bien ni \u00e0 eux-m\u00eames ni \u00e0 autrui,\neurent trois femmes adroites, diligentes, soigneuses et intelligentes:\nnon que les deux premi\u00e8res fussent de mauvaises femmes sous le rapport\nde l\u2019humeur et du caract\u00e8re, car toutes les cinq \u00e9taient des cr\u00e9atures\ntr\u00e8s pr\u00e9venantes, tr\u00e8s douces et tr\u00e8s soumises, passives plut\u00f4t comme\ndes esclaves que comme des \u00e9pouses; je veux dire seulement qu\u2019elles\nn\u2019\u00e9taient pas \u00e9galement adroites, intelligentes ou industrieuses, ni\n\u00e9galement \u00e9conomes et soigneuses.\nIl est encore une autre observation que je dois faire, \u00e0 l\u2019honneur\nd\u2019une diligente pers\u00e9v\u00e9rance d\u2019une part, et \u00e0 la honte d\u2019un caract\u00e8re\nn\u00e9gligent et paresseux d\u2019autre part; c\u2019est que lorsque j\u2019arrivai dans\nl\u2019\u00eele, et que j\u2019examinai les am\u00e9liorations diverses, les cultures et\nla bonne direction des petites colonies, les deux Anglais avaient de\nsi loin d\u00e9pass\u00e9 les trois autres, qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas de comparaison\n\u00e0 \u00e9tablir entre eux. Ils n\u2019avaient ensemenc\u00e9, il est vrai, les uns\net les autres, que l\u2019\u00e9tendue de terrain n\u00e9cessaire \u00e0 leurs besoins,\net ils avaient eu raison \u00e0 mon sens, car la nature nous dit qu\u2019il\nest inutile de semer plus qu\u2019on ne consomme; mais la diff\u00e9rence dans\nla culture, les plantations, les cl\u00f4tures, et dans tout le reste se\nvoyait de prime abord.\nLes deux Anglais avaient plant\u00e9 autour de leur hutte un grand nombre\nde jeunes arbres, de mani\u00e8re qu\u2019en approchant de la place vous\nn\u2019aperceviez qu\u2019un bois. Quoique leur plantation e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ravag\u00e9e deux\nfois, l\u2019une par leurs compatriotes et l\u2019autre par l\u2019ennemi, comme on\nle verra en son lieu, n\u00e9anmoins ils avaient tout r\u00e9tabli, et tout chez\neux \u00e9tait florissant et prosp\u00e8re. Ils avaient des vignes parfaitement\nplant\u00e9es, bien qu\u2019eux-m\u00eames n\u2019en eussent jamais vu; et, gr\u00e2ce aux\nsoins qu\u2019ils donnaient \u00e0 cette culture, leurs raisins \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0\naussi bons que ceux des autres. Ils s\u2019\u00e9taient aussi fait une retraite\ndans la partie la plus \u00e9paisse des bois. Ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas une caverne\nnaturelle comme celle que j\u2019avais trouv\u00e9e, mais une grotte qu\u2019ils\navaient creus\u00e9e \u00e0 force de travail, o\u00f9, lorsque arriva le malheur qui\nva suivre, ils mirent en s\u00fbret\u00e9 leurs femmes et leurs enfants, si\nbien qu\u2019on ne put les d\u00e9couvrir. Au moyen d\u2019innombrables pieux de ce\nbois qui, comme je l\u2019ai dit, cro\u00eet si facilement, ils avaient \u00e9lev\u00e9\n\u00e0 l\u2019entour un bocage imp\u00e9n\u00e9trable, except\u00e9 en un seul endroit o\u00f9\nils grimpaient pour gagner l\u2019ext\u00e9rieur, et de l\u00e0 entraient dans des\nsentiers qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient m\u00e9nag\u00e9s.\nQuant aux trois r\u00e9prouv\u00e9s, comme je les appelle \u00e0 juste titre, bien\nque leur nouvelle position les e\u00fbt beaucoup civilis\u00e9s, en comparaison\nde ce qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient ant\u00e9rieurement, et qu\u2019ils ne fussent pas \u00e0\nbeaucoup pr\u00e8s aussi querelleurs, parce qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient plus les\nm\u00eames occasions de l\u2019\u00eatre, n\u00e9anmoins l\u2019un des compagnons d\u2019un esprit\nd\u00e9r\u00e9gl\u00e9, je veux dire la paresse, ne les avait point abandonn\u00e9s. Ils\nsemaient du bl\u00e9, il est vrai, et faisaient des enclos; mais jamais\nles paroles de Salomon ne se v\u00e9rifi\u00e8rent mieux qu\u2019\u00e0 leur \u00e9gard:\u2014\u00abJ\u2019AI\nPASS\u00c9 PAR LA VIGNE DU PARESSEUX, ELLE \u00c9TAIT COUVERTE DE RONCES.\u00bb\u2014Car,\nlorsque les Espagnols vinrent pour voir leur moisson, ils ne purent\nla d\u00e9couvrir en divers endroits, \u00e0 cause des mauvaises herbes; il y\navait dans la haie plusieurs ouvertures par lesquelles les ch\u00e8vres\nsauvages \u00e9taient entr\u00e9es et avaient mang\u00e9 le bl\u00e9; \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 on avait\nbouch\u00e9 le trou comme provisoirement avec des broussailles mortes, mais\nc\u2019\u00e9tait fermer la porte de l\u2019\u00e9curie apr\u00e8s que le cheval \u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0\nvol\u00e9. Lorsque, au contraire, ils all\u00e8rent voir la plantation des deux\nautres, partout ils trouv\u00e8rent des marques d\u2019une industrie prosp\u00e8re:\nil n\u2019y avait pas une mauvaise herbe dans leurs bl\u00e9s, pas une ouverture\ndans leurs haies; et eux aussi ils v\u00e9rifiaient ces autres paroles\nde Salomon:\u2014\u00abLA MAIN DILIGENTE DEVIENT RICHE;\u00bb car toutes choses\ncroissaient et se bonifiaient chez eux, et l\u2019abondance y r\u00e9gnait au\ndedans et au dehors: ils avaient plus de b\u00e9tail que les autres, et\ndans leur int\u00e9rieur plus d\u2019ustensiles, plus de bien-\u00eatre, plus aussi\nde plaisir et d\u2019agr\u00e9ment.\nIl est vrai que les femmes des trois \u00e9taient entendues et soigneuses;\nelles avaient appris \u00e0 pr\u00e9parer et \u00e0 accommoder les mets de l\u2019un des\ndeux autres Anglais, qui, ainsi que je l\u2019ai dit, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 aide de\ncuisine \u00e0 bord du navire, et elles appr\u00eataient fort bien les repas\nde leurs maris. Les autres, au contraire, n\u2019y entendirent jamais\nrien; mais celui qui, comme je disais, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 aide de cuisine,\nfaisait lui-m\u00eame le service. Quant aux maris des trois femmes,\nils parcouraient les alentours, allaient chercher des \u0153ufs de\ntortues, p\u00eacher du poisson et attraper des oiseaux; en un mot, ils\nfaisaient tout autre chose que de travailler: aussi leur ordinaire\ns\u2019en ressentait-il. Le diligent vivait bien et confortablement; le\nparesseux vivait d\u2019une mani\u00e8re dure et mis\u00e9rable, et je pense que,\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ralement parlant, il en est de m\u00eame en tous lieux.\nMais maintenant nous allons passer \u00e0 une sc\u00e8ne diff\u00e9rente de tout ce\nqui \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 jusqu\u2019alors soit \u00e0 eux, soit \u00e0 moi. Voici quelle en\nfut l\u2019origine.\nUn matin, de bonne heure, abord\u00e8rent au rivage cinq ou six canots\nd\u2019Indiens ou sauvages, appelez-les comme il vous plaira, et nul doute\nqu\u2019ils ne vinssent, comme d\u2019habitude, pour manger leurs prisonniers;\nmais cela \u00e9tait devenu si familier aux Espagnols, \u00e0 tous nos gens,\nqu\u2019ils ne s\u2019en tourmentaient plus comme je le faisais. L\u2019exp\u00e9rience\nleur ayant appris que leur seule affaire \u00e9tait de se tenir cach\u00e9s, et\nque s\u2019ils n\u2019\u00e9taient point vus des sauvages, ceux-ci, l\u2019affaire une\nfois termin\u00e9e, se retireraient paisiblement, ne se doutant pas plus\nalors qu\u2019ils ne l\u2019avaient fait pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment qu\u2019il y e\u00fbt des habitants\ndans l\u2019\u00eele; sachant cela, dis-je, ils comprirent qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient rien\nde mieux \u00e0 faire que de donner avis aux trois plantations qu\u2019on se\nt\u00eent renferm\u00e9 et que personne ne se montr\u00e2t; seulement ils plac\u00e8rent\nune vedette dans un lieu convenable pour avertir lorsque les canots se\nseraient remis en mer.\nTout cela \u00e9tait sans doute fort raisonnable; mais un accident funeste\nd\u00e9concerta toutes ces mesures et fit conna\u00eetre aux sauvages que\nl\u2019\u00eele \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e, ce qui faillit causer la ruine de la colonie\ntout enti\u00e8re. Lorsque les canots des sauvages se furent \u00e9loign\u00e9s,\nles Espagnols jet\u00e8rent au dehors un regard furtif, et quelques-uns\nd\u2019entre eux eurent la curiosit\u00e9 de s\u2019approcher du lieu qu\u2019ils\nvenaient d\u2019abandonner pour voir ce qu\u2019ils y avaient fait. A leur\ngrande surprise, ils trouv\u00e8rent trois sauvages, rest\u00e9s l\u00e0, \u00e9tendus \u00e0\nterre, et endormis profond\u00e9ment. On supposa que, gorg\u00e9s \u00e0 leur festin\ninhumain, ils s\u2019\u00e9taient assoupis comme des brutes, et n\u2019avaient pas\nvoulu bouger quand les autres \u00e9taient partis, ou qu\u2019\u00e9gar\u00e9s dans les\nbois ils n\u2019\u00e9taient pas revenus \u00e0 temps pour s\u2019embarquer.\n[Illustration: Ils trouv\u00e8rent trois sauvages, rest\u00e9s l\u00e0, \u00e9tendus \u00e0\nterre...]\nA cette vue, les Espagnols furent grandement surpris, et fort\nembarrass\u00e9s sur ce qu\u2019ils devaient faire. Le gouverneur espagnol se\ntrouvait avec eux, on lui demanda son avis; mais il d\u00e9clara qu\u2019il\nne savait quel parti prendre. Pour des esclaves, ils en avaient\nassez d\u00e9j\u00e0; quant \u00e0 les tuer, nul d\u2019entre eux n\u2019y \u00e9tait dispos\u00e9.\nLe gouverneur me dit qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient pu avoir l\u2019id\u00e9e de verser le\nsang innocent, car les pauvres cr\u00e9atures ne leur avaient fait aucun\nmal, n\u2019avaient port\u00e9 aucune atteinte \u00e0 leur propri\u00e9t\u00e9, et que tous\npensaient qu\u2019aucun motif ne pourrait l\u00e9gitimer cet assassinat.\nEt ici je dois dire, \u00e0 l\u2019honneur de ces Espagnols, que, quoi qu\u2019on\npuisse dire de la cruaut\u00e9 de ce peuple au Mexique et au P\u00e9rou, je n\u2019ai\njamais dans aucun pays \u00e9tranger rencontr\u00e9 dix-sept hommes d\u2019une nation\nquelconque qui fussent en toute occasion si modestes, si mod\u00e9r\u00e9s, si\nvertueux, si courtois et d\u2019une humeur si parfaite. Pour ce qui est\nde la cruaut\u00e9, on n\u2019en voyait pas l\u2019ombre dans leur nature: on ne\ntrouvait en eux ni inhumanit\u00e9, ni barbarie, ni passions violentes, et\ncependant tous \u00e9taient des hommes d\u2019une grande ardeur et d\u2019un grand\ncourage.\nLeur douceur et leur calme s\u2019\u00e9taient manifest\u00e9s en supportant la\nconduite intol\u00e9rable des trois Anglais, et alors leur justice et leur\nhumanit\u00e9 se montr\u00e8rent \u00e0 propos des sauvages dont je viens de parler.\nApr\u00e8s quelques d\u00e9lib\u00e9rations, ils d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent qu\u2019ils ne bougeraient pas\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que, s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible, ces trois hommes fussent partis.\nMais le gouverneur fit la r\u00e9flexion que ces trois Indiens n\u2019avaient\npas de pirogue, et que si on les laissait r\u00f4der dans l\u2019\u00eele, assur\u00e9ment\nils d\u00e9couvriraient qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e, ce qui causerait la ruine de\nla colonie.\nSur ce, rebroussant chemin et trouvant les comp\u00e8res qui dormaient\nencore profond\u00e9ment, ils r\u00e9solurent de les \u00e9veiller et de les faire\nprisonniers; et c\u2019est ce qu\u2019ils firent. Les pauvres diables furent\n\u00e9trangement effray\u00e9s quand ils se virent saisis et li\u00e9s, et, comme\nles femmes, ils craignirent qu\u2019on ne voul\u00fbt les tuer et les d\u00e9vorer;\ncar, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, ces peuples s\u2019imaginent que tout le monde\nfait comme eux et mange de la chair humaine; mais on les eut bient\u00f4t\ntranquillis\u00e9s l\u00e0-dessus et on les emmena.\nCe fut une chose fort heureuse pour nos gens de ne pas les avoir\nconduits \u00e0 leur ch\u00e2teau, je veux dire \u00e0 mon palais au pied de la\ncolline, mais de les avoir men\u00e9s d\u2019abord \u00e0 la tonnelle, o\u00f9 \u00e9taient\nleurs principales cultures, leurs ch\u00e8vres et leurs champs de bl\u00e9, et\nplus tard \u00e0 l\u2019habitation des deux Anglais.\nL\u00e0 on les fit travailler, quoiqu\u2019on n\u2019e\u00fbt pas grand ouvrage \u00e0 leur\ndonner; et, soit n\u00e9gligence \u00e0 les garder, soit qu\u2019on ne cr\u00fbt pas\nqu\u2019ils pussent s\u2019\u00e9manciper, un d\u2019entre eux s\u2019\u00e9chappa, et, s\u2019\u00e9tant\nr\u00e9fugi\u00e9 dans les bois, on ne le revit plus.\nOn eut tout lieu de croire qu\u2019il \u00e9tait retourn\u00e9 dans son pays avec les\nsauvages, qui d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent trois ou quatre semaines plus tard, firent\nleurs bombances accoutum\u00e9es, et s\u2019en all\u00e8rent au bout de deux jours.\nCette pens\u00e9e atterra nos gens: ils conclurent, et avec beaucoup de\nraison, que cet individu retourn\u00e9 parmi ses camarades ne manquerait\npas de leur rapporter qu\u2019il y avait des habitants dans l\u2019\u00eele, et\ncombien ils \u00e9taient faibles et en petit nombre; car, ainsi que je l\u2019ai\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, on n\u2019avait jamais fait conna\u00eetre \u00e0 ce sauvage, et cela fut\nfort heureux, combien nos hommes \u00e9taient et o\u00f9 ils vivaient; jamais il\nn\u2019avait vu ni entendu le feu de leurs armes; on s\u2019\u00e9tait bien gard\u00e9,\n\u00e0 plus forte raison, de lui faire voir aucun des lieux de retraite,\ntels que la caverne dans la vall\u00e9e, ou la nouvelle grotte que les deux\nAnglais avaient creus\u00e9e, et ainsi du reste.\nLa premi\u00e8re preuve qu\u2019ils eurent de la trahison de ce mis\u00e9rable fut\nque, environ deux mois plus tard, six canots de sauvages, contenant\nchacun de sept \u00e0 dix hommes, s\u2019approch\u00e8rent en voguant le long du\nrivage nord de l\u2019\u00eele, o\u00f9 ils n\u2019avaient pas coutume de se rendre\nauparavant, et d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent environ une heure apr\u00e8s le lever du soleil\ndans un endroit convenable, \u00e0 un mille de l\u2019habitation des deux\nAnglais, o\u00f9 avait \u00e9t\u00e9 gard\u00e9 le fugitif. Comme me le dit le gouverneur\nespagnol, s\u2019ils avaient tous \u00e9t\u00e9 l\u00e0, le dommage n\u2019aurait pas \u00e9t\u00e9\nsi consid\u00e9rable, car pas un de ces sauvages n\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9chapp\u00e9; mais le\ncas \u00e9tait bien diff\u00e9rent: deux hommes contre cinquante, la partie\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas \u00e9gale. Heureusement que les deux Anglais les aper\u00e7urent\n\u00e0 une lieue en mer, de sorte qu\u2019il s\u2019\u00e9coula plus d\u2019une heure avant\nqu\u2019ils abordassent; et, comme ils d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent \u00e0 environ un mille de\nleurs huttes, ce ne fut qu\u2019au bout de quelque temps qu\u2019ils arriv\u00e8rent\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 eux. Ayant alors grande raison de croire qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient\ntrahis, la premi\u00e8re chose qu\u2019ils firent fut de lier les deux esclaves\nqui restaient, et de commander \u00e0 deux des trois hommes qui avaient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9s avec les femmes, et qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, firent preuve\nd\u2019une grande fid\u00e9lit\u00e9, de les conduire avec leurs deux \u00e9pouses et tout\nce qu\u2019ils pourraient emporter avec eux au milieu du bois, dans cette\ngrotte dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, et l\u00e0, de garder ces deux individus\npieds et poings li\u00e9s, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 nouvel ordre.\nEn second lieu, voyant que les sauvages avaient tous mis pied \u00e0 terre\net se portaient de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, ils ouvrirent les enclos dans lesquels\n\u00e9taient leurs ch\u00e8vres et les chass\u00e8rent dans le bois pour y errer en\nlibert\u00e9, afin que ces barbares crussent que c\u2019\u00e9taient des animaux\nfarouches; mais le coquin qui les accompagnait, trop rus\u00e9 pour donner\nl\u00e0 dedans, les mit au fait de tout, et ils se dirig\u00e8rent droit \u00e0 la\nplace. Quand les pauvres gens effray\u00e9s eurent mis \u00e0 l\u2019abri leurs\nfemmes et leurs biens, ils envoy\u00e8rent leur troisi\u00e8me esclave venu avec\nles femmes, et qui se trouvait l\u00e0 par hasard, en toute h\u00e2te aupr\u00e8s\ndes Espagnols pour leur donner l\u2019alarme et leur demander un prompt\nsecours. En m\u00eame temps ils prirent leurs armes et ce qu\u2019ils avaient de\nmunitions, et se retir\u00e8rent dans le bois, vers le lieu o\u00f9 avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nenvoy\u00e9es leurs femmes, se tenant \u00e0 distance cependant, de mani\u00e8re \u00e0\nvoir, si cela \u00e9tait possible, la direction que suivraient les sauvages.\nIls n\u2019avaient pas fait beaucoup de chemin quand, du haut d\u2019un\nmonticule, ils aper\u00e7urent la petite arm\u00e9e de leurs ennemis s\u2019avancer\ndirectement vers leur habitation, et un moment apr\u00e8s ils virent leurs\nhuttes et leurs meubles d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les flammes, \u00e0 leur grande douleur\net \u00e0 leur grande mortification: c\u2019\u00e9tait pour eux une perte cruelle,\nune perte irr\u00e9parable au moins pour quelque temps. Ils conserv\u00e8rent un\nmoment la m\u00eame position, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que les sauvages se r\u00e9pandirent\nsur toute la place comme des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces, fouillant partout \u00e0 la\nrecherche de leur proie, et en particulier des habitants, dont on\nvoyait clairement qu\u2019ils connaissaient l\u2019existence.\n[Illustration: Ils virent leurs huttes et leurs meubles d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par\nles flammes...]\nLes deux Anglais, voyant cela et ne se croyant pas en s\u00fbret\u00e9 o\u00f9\nils se trouvaient, car il \u00e9tait probable que quelques-uns de ces\nbarbares viendraient de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, et y viendraient sup\u00e9rieurs en\nforces, jug\u00e8rent convenable de se retirer \u00e0 un demi-mille plus loin,\npersuad\u00e9s, comme cela eut lieu en effet, que plus l\u2019ennemi r\u00f4derait,\nplus il se diss\u00e9minerait.\nLeur seconde halte se fit \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e d\u2019un fourr\u00e9 \u00e9pais o\u00f9 se trouvait\nun vieux tronc d\u2019arbre creux et excessivement grand: ce fut dans cet\narbre que tous deux prirent position, r\u00e9solus \u00e0 attendre l\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nement.\nIl y avait peu de temps qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient l\u00e0, quand deux sauvages\naccoururent de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, comme s\u2019ils les eussent d\u00e9couverts et vinssent\npour les attaquer. Un peu plus loin ils en virent trois autres, et\nplus loin encore cinq autres, tous s\u2019avan\u00e7ant dans la m\u00eame direction;\nen outre ils en virent \u00e0 une certaine distance sept ou huit qui\ncouraient d\u2019un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9; car ils se r\u00e9pandaient sur tous les points,\ncomme des chasseurs qui battent un bois en qu\u00eate du gibier.\nLes pauvres gens furent alors dans une grande perplexit\u00e9, ne sachant\ns\u2019ils devaient rester et garder leur poste ou s\u2019enfuir; mais apr\u00e8s\nune courte d\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, consid\u00e9rant que si les sauvages parcouraient\nainsi le pays, ils pourraient peut-\u00eatre, avant l\u2019arriv\u00e9e du secours,\nd\u00e9couvrir leur retraite dans les bois, et qu\u2019alors tout serait perdu,\nils r\u00e9solurent de les attendre l\u00e0 et, s\u2019ils \u00e9taient trop nombreux,\nde monter au sommet de l\u2019arbre, d\u2019o\u00f9 ils ne doutaient pas qu\u2019except\u00e9\ncontre le feu, ils ne se d\u00e9fendissent tant que leurs munitions\ndureraient, quand bien m\u00eame tous les sauvages, d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s au nombre\nd\u2019environ cinquante, viendraient \u00e0 les attaquer.\nAyant pris cette d\u00e9termination, ils se demand\u00e8rent s\u2019ils feraient feu\nsur les deux premiers, ou s\u2019ils attendraient les trois et tireraient\nsur ce groupe interm\u00e9diaire: tactique au moyen de laquelle les deux\net les cinq qui suivaient seraient s\u00e9par\u00e9s. Enfin ils r\u00e9solurent de\nlaisser passer les deux premiers, \u00e0 moins qu\u2019ils ne les d\u00e9couvrissent\ndans leur refuge et qu\u2019ils ne vinssent les attaquer. Ces deux sauvages\nles confirm\u00e8rent dans cette r\u00e9solution en se d\u00e9tournant un peu vers\nune autre partie du bois; mais les trois et les cinq, marchant sur\nleur piste, vinrent directement \u00e0 l\u2019arbre comme s\u2019ils eussent su que\nles Anglais y \u00e9taient.\nLes voyant arriver droit \u00e0 eux, ceux-ci r\u00e9solurent de les prendre en\nligne, ainsi qu\u2019ils s\u2019avan\u00e7aient; et, comme ils avaient d\u00e9cid\u00e9 de ne\nfaire feu qu\u2019un \u00e0 la fois, il \u00e9tait possible que du premier coup ils\nles atteignissent tous trois. A cet effet, celui qui devait tirer\nmit trois ou quatre balles dans son mousquet, et, \u00e0 la faveur d\u2019une\nmeurtri\u00e8re, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire d\u2019un trou qui se trouvait dans l\u2019arbre, il\nvisa tout \u00e0 son aise sans \u00eatre vu, et attendit qu\u2019ils fussent \u00e0 trente\nverges de l\u2019embuscade, de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ne pas manquer son coup.\nPendant qu\u2019ils attendaient ainsi et que les sauvages s\u2019approchaient,\nils virent que l\u2019un des trois \u00e9tait le fugitif qui s\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e9chapp\u00e9\nde chez eux, le reconnurent parfaitement, et r\u00e9solurent de ne pas le\nmanquer, dussent-ils ensemble faire feu. L\u2019autre se tint donc pr\u00eat \u00e0\ntirer, afin que si le sauvage ne tombait pas du premier coup, il f\u00fbt\ns\u00fbr d\u2019en recevoir un second.\nMais le premier tireur \u00e9tait trop adroit pour le manquer; car pendant\nque les sauvages s\u2019avan\u00e7aient l\u2019un apr\u00e8s l\u2019autre sur une seule ligne,\nil fit feu et en atteignit deux du coup. Le premier fut tu\u00e9 roide\nd\u2019une balle dans la t\u00eate; le second, qui \u00e9tait l\u2019Indien fugitif, en\nre\u00e7ut une au travers du corps et tomba, mais il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas tout \u00e0\nfait mort; et le troisi\u00e8me eut une \u00e9gratignure \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9paule, que lui fit\nsans doute la balle qui avait travers\u00e9 le corps du second. \u00c9pouvant\u00e9,\nquoiqu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt pas grand mal, il s\u2019assit \u00e0 terre en poussant des cris\net des hurlements affreux.\nLes cinq qui suivaient, effray\u00e9s du bruit plut\u00f4t que p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9s de leur\ndanger, s\u2019arr\u00eat\u00e8rent tout court d\u2019abord; car les bois rendirent la\nd\u00e9tonation mille fois plus terrible, les \u00e9chos grondant \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, les\noiseaux s\u2019envolant de toutes parts et poussant toutes sortes de cris,\nselon leur esp\u00e8ce, de m\u00eame que le jour o\u00f9 je tirai le premier coup de\nfusil qui peut-\u00eatre e\u00fbt retenti en ce lieu depuis que c\u2019\u00e9tait une \u00eele.\nCependant, tout \u00e9tant rentr\u00e9 dans le silence, ils vinrent sans\nd\u00e9fiance, ignorant la cause de ce bruit, jusqu\u2019au lieu o\u00f9 \u00e9taient\nleurs compagnons dans un assez pitoyable \u00e9tat. L\u00e0 ces pauvres\nignorantes cr\u00e9atures, qui ne soup\u00e7onnaient pas qu\u2019un danger pareil p\u00fbt\nles menacer, se group\u00e8rent autour du bless\u00e9, lui adressant la parole\net sans doute lui demandant d\u2019o\u00f9 venait sa blessure. Il est pr\u00e9sumable\nque celui-ci r\u00e9pondit qu\u2019un \u00e9clair de feu, suivi imm\u00e9diatement d\u2019un\ncoup de tonnerre de leurs dieux, avait tu\u00e9 ses deux compagnons et\nl\u2019avait bless\u00e9 lui-m\u00eame. Cela, dis-je, est pr\u00e9sumable; car rien\nn\u2019est plus certain qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient vu aucun homme aupr\u00e8s d\u2019eux,\nqu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient de leur vie entendu la d\u00e9tonation d\u2019un fusil, qu\u2019ils\nne savaient non plus ce que c\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019une arme \u00e0 feu, et qu\u2019ils\nignoraient qu\u2019\u00e0 distance on p\u00fbt tuer ou blesser avec du feu et des\nballes. S\u2019il n\u2019en e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi, il est croyable qu\u2019ils ne se\nfussent pas arr\u00eat\u00e9s si inconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment \u00e0 contempler le sort de leurs\ncamarades, sans quelque appr\u00e9hension pour eux-m\u00eames.\nNos deux hommes, comme ils me l\u2019ont avou\u00e9 depuis, se voyaient avec\ndouleur oblig\u00e9s de tuer tant de pauvres \u00eatres qui n\u2019avaient aucune\nid\u00e9e de leur danger; mais, les tenant l\u00e0 sous leurs coups et le\npremier ayant recharg\u00e9 son arme, ils se r\u00e9solurent \u00e0 tirer tous deux\ndessus. Convenus de choisir un but diff\u00e9rent, ils firent feu \u00e0 la\nfois et en tu\u00e8rent ou bless\u00e8rent gri\u00e8vement quatre. Le cinqui\u00e8me,\nhorriblement effray\u00e9, bien que rest\u00e9 sauf, tomba comme les autres.\nNos hommes, les voyant tous gisants, crurent qu\u2019ils les avaient tous\nexp\u00e9di\u00e9s.\nLa persuasion de n\u2019en avoir manqu\u00e9 aucun fit sortir r\u00e9solument de\nl\u2019arbre nos deux hommes avant qu\u2019ils eussent recharg\u00e9 leurs armes, et\nce fut une grande imprudence. Ils tomb\u00e8rent dans l\u2019\u00e9tonnement quand\nils arriv\u00e8rent sur le lieu de la sc\u00e8ne, et ne trouv\u00e8rent pas moins\nde quatre Indiens vivants, dont deux fort l\u00e9g\u00e8rement bless\u00e9s et un\nenti\u00e8rement sauf. Ils se virent alors forc\u00e9s de les achever \u00e0 coups de\ncrosse de mousquet. D\u2019abord ils s\u2019assur\u00e8rent de l\u2019Indien fugitif qui\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 la cause de tout le d\u00e9sastre, ainsi que d\u2019un autre bless\u00e9\nau genou, et les d\u00e9livr\u00e8rent de leurs peines. En ce moment, celui qui\nn\u2019avait point \u00e9t\u00e9 atteint vint se jeter \u00e0 leurs genoux, les deux mains\nlev\u00e9es, et par gestes et par signes implorant piteusement la vie. Mais\nils ne purent comprendre un seul mot de ce qu\u2019il disait.\nToutefois, ils lui signifi\u00e8rent de s\u2019asseoir pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0 au pied d\u2019un\narbre, et un des Anglais, avec une corde qu\u2019il avait dans sa poche\npar le plus grand des hasards, lui attacha les pieds et lui lia les\nmains par derri\u00e8re; puis on l\u2019abandonna. Ils se mirent alors en toute\nh\u00e2te \u00e0 la poursuite des deux autres qui \u00e9taient all\u00e9s en avant,\ncraignant que ceux-ci ou un plus grand nombre ne vint \u00e0 d\u00e9couvrir le\nchemin de leur retraite dans le bois, o\u00f9 \u00e9taient leurs femmes et le\npeu d\u2019objets qu\u2019ils y avaient d\u00e9pos\u00e9s. Ils aper\u00e7urent enfin les deux\nIndiens, mais ils \u00e9taient fort \u00e9loign\u00e9s; n\u00e9anmoins, ils les virent,\n\u00e0 leur grande satisfaction, traverser une vall\u00e9e proche de la mer,\nchemin directement oppos\u00e9 \u00e0 celui qui conduisait \u00e0 leur retraite\npour laquelle ils \u00e9taient en de si vives craintes. Tranquillis\u00e9s\nsur ce point, ils retourn\u00e8rent \u00e0 l\u2019arbre o\u00f9 ils avaient laiss\u00e9 leur\nprisonnier, qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils suppos\u00e8rent, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9livr\u00e9 par ses\ncamarades, car les deux bouts de corde qui avaient servi \u00e0 l\u2019attacher\n\u00e9taient encore au pied de l\u2019arbre.\nSe trouvant alors dans un aussi grand embarras que pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, ne\nsachant de quel c\u00f4t\u00e9 se diriger, ni \u00e0 quelle distance \u00e9tait l\u2019ennemi,\nni quelles \u00e9taient ses forces, ils prirent la r\u00e9solution d\u2019aller \u00e0 la\ngrotte o\u00f9 leurs femmes avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 conduites, afin de voir si tout\ns\u2019y passait bien, et pour les d\u00e9livrer de l\u2019effroi o\u00f9 s\u00fbrement elles\n\u00e9taient, car, bien que les sauvages fussent leurs compatriotes, elles\nen avaient une peur horrible, et d\u2019autant plus peut-\u00eatre qu\u2019elles\nsavaient tout ce qu\u2019ils valaient.\nLes Anglais, \u00e0 leur arriv\u00e9e, virent que les sauvages avaient pass\u00e9\ndans le bois, et m\u00eame tr\u00e8s pr\u00e8s du lieu de leur retraite, sans\ntoutefois l\u2019avoir d\u00e9couverte; car l\u2019\u00e9pais fourr\u00e9 qui l\u2019entourait en\nrendait l\u2019abord inaccessible pour quiconque n\u2019e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 guid\u00e9 par\nquelque affili\u00e9, et nos barbares ne l\u2019\u00e9taient point. Ils trouv\u00e8rent\ndonc toutes choses en bon ordre, seulement les femmes \u00e9taient glac\u00e9es\nd\u2019effroi. Tandis qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient l\u00e0, \u00e0 leur grande joie, sept des\nEspagnols arriv\u00e8rent \u00e0 leur secours. Les dix autres avec leurs\nserviteurs, et le vieux Vendredi, je veux dire le p\u00e8re de Vendredi,\n\u00e9taient partis en masse pour prot\u00e9ger leur tonnelle et le bl\u00e9 et le\nb\u00e9tail qui s\u2019y trouvaient, dans le cas o\u00f9 les Indiens eussent r\u00f4d\u00e9\nvers cette partie de l\u2019\u00eele; mais ils ne se r\u00e9pandirent pas jusque-l\u00e0.\nAvec les sept Espagnols se trouvait l\u2019un des trois sauvages qu\u2019ils\navaient autrefois faits prisonniers, et aussi celui que, pieds et\npoings li\u00e9s, les Anglais avaient laiss\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de l\u2019arbre, car, \u00e0 ce\nqu\u2019il para\u00eet, les Espagnols \u00e9taient venus par le chemin o\u00f9 avaient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 massacr\u00e9s les sept Indiens, et avaient d\u00e9li\u00e9 le huiti\u00e8me pour\nl\u2019emmener avec eux. L\u00e0, toutefois, ils furent oblig\u00e9s de le garrotter\nde nouveau, comme l\u2019\u00e9taient les deux autres, rest\u00e9s apr\u00e8s le d\u00e9part du\nfugitif.\nLeurs prisonniers commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 leur devenir fort \u00e0 charge, et\nils craignaient tellement qu\u2019ils ne leur \u00e9chappassent, qu\u2019ils\ns\u2019imagin\u00e8rent \u00eatre, pour leur propre conservation, dans l\u2019absolue\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de les tuer tous. Mais le gouverneur n\u2019y voulut pas\nconsentir: il ordonna de les envoyer \u00e0 ma vieille caverne de la\nvall\u00e9e, avec deux Espagnols pour les garder et pourvoir \u00e0 leur\nnourriture. Ce qui fut ex\u00e9cut\u00e9; et l\u00e0, ils pass\u00e8rent la nuit pieds et\nmains li\u00e9s.\nL\u2019arriv\u00e9e des Espagnols releva tellement le courage des deux Anglais,\nqu\u2019ils n\u2019entendirent pas s\u2019arr\u00eater plus longtemps. Ayant pris avec eux\ncinq Espagnols, et r\u00e9unissant \u00e0 eux tous quatre mousquets, un pistolet\net deux gros b\u00e2tons \u00e0 deux bouts, ils partirent \u00e0 la recherche des\nsauvages. D\u2019abord, quand ils furent arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 l\u2019arbre o\u00f9 gisaient ceux\nqui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s, il leur fut ais\u00e9 de voir que quelques autres\nIndiens y \u00e9taient venus; car ils avaient essay\u00e9 d\u2019emporter leurs\nmorts, et avaient tra\u00een\u00e9 deux cadavres \u00e0 une bonne distance, puis\nles avaient abandonn\u00e9s. De l\u00e0 ils gagn\u00e8rent le premier tertre o\u00f9 ils\ns\u2019\u00e9taient arr\u00eat\u00e9s et d\u2019o\u00f9 ils avaient vu incendier leurs huttes, et\nils eurent la douleur de voir s\u2019en \u00e9lever un reste de fum\u00e9e; mais ils\nne purent y d\u00e9couvrir aucun sauvage. Ils r\u00e9solurent alors d\u2019aller,\navec toute la prudence possible, vers les ruines de leur plantation.\nUn peu avant d\u2019y arriver, s\u2019\u00e9tant trouv\u00e9s en vue de la c\u00f4te, ils\naper\u00e7urent distinctement tous les sauvages qui se rembarquaient dans\nleurs canots pour gagner le large.\nIl semblait qu\u2019ils fussent f\u00e2ch\u00e9s d\u2019abord qu\u2019il n\u2019y e\u00fbt pas de chemin\npour aller jusqu\u2019\u00e0 eux, afin de leur envoyer \u00e0 leur d\u00e9part une salve\nde mousqueterie; mais, apr\u00e8s tout, ils s\u2019estim\u00e8rent fort heureux d\u2019en\n\u00eatre d\u00e9barrass\u00e9s.\nLes pauvres Anglais \u00e9tant alors ruin\u00e9s pour la seconde fois, leurs\ncultures \u00e9tant d\u00e9truites, tous les autres convinrent de les aider\n\u00e0 relever leurs constructions et de les pourvoir de toutes choses\nn\u00e9cessaires. Leurs trois compatriotes m\u00eame, chez lesquels jusque-l\u00e0 on\nn\u2019avait pas remarqu\u00e9 la moindre tendance \u00e0 faire le bien, d\u00e8s qu\u2019ils\napprirent leur d\u00e9sastre,\u2014car, vivant \u00e9loign\u00e9s, ils n\u2019avaient rien su\nqu\u2019apr\u00e8s l\u2019affaire finie,\u2014vinrent offrir leur aide et leur assistance,\net travaill\u00e8rent de grand c\u0153ur pendant plusieurs jours \u00e0 r\u00e9tablir\nleurs habitations et \u00e0 leur fabriquer des objets de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9.\nEnviron deux jours apr\u00e8s ils eurent la satisfaction de voir trois\npirogues des sauvages venir \u00e9chouer \u00e0 peu de distance sur la gr\u00e8ve,\nainsi que deux hommes noy\u00e9s; ce qui leur fit croire avec raison\nqu\u2019une temp\u00eate, qu\u2019ils avaient d\u00fb essuyer en mer, avait submerg\u00e9\nquelques-unes de leurs embarcations. Le vent, en effet, avait souffl\u00e9\navec violence durant la nuit qui suivit leur d\u00e9part.\nSi quelques-uns d\u2019entre eux s\u2019\u00e9taient perdus, toutefois il s\u2019en\n\u00e9tait sauv\u00e9 un assez grand nombre, pour informer leurs compatriotes\nde ce qu\u2019ils avaient fait et de ce qui leur \u00e9tait advenu, et les\nexciter \u00e0 une autre entreprise de la m\u00eame nature, qu\u2019ils r\u00e9solurent\neffectivement de tenter, avec des forces suffisantes pour que rien ne\np\u00fbt leur r\u00e9sister. Mais, \u00e0 l\u2019exception de ce que le fugitif leur avait\ndit des habitants de l\u2019\u00eele, ils n\u2019en savaient par eux-m\u00eames que fort\npeu de chose; jamais ils n\u2019avaient vu ombre humaine en ce lieu, et\ncelui qui leur avait racont\u00e9 le fait ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9, tout autre t\u00e9moin\nmanquait qui p\u00fbt le leur confirmer.\nCinq ou six mois s\u2019\u00e9taient \u00e9coul\u00e9s, et l\u2019on n\u2019avait point entendu\nparler des sauvages; d\u00e9j\u00e0 nos gens se flattaient de l\u2019espoir qu\u2019ils\nn\u2019avaient point oubli\u00e9 leur premier \u00e9chec, et qu\u2019ils avaient laiss\u00e9\nl\u00e0 toute id\u00e9e de r\u00e9parer leur d\u00e9faite, quand tout \u00e0 coup l\u2019\u00eele fut\nenvahie par une redoutable flotte de vingt-huit canots remplis de\nsauvages arm\u00e9s d\u2019arcs et de fl\u00e8ches, d\u2019\u00e9normes casse-t\u00eates, de sabres\nde bois et d\u2019autres instruments de guerre. Bref, cette multitude\n\u00e9tait si formidable, que nos gens tomb\u00e8rent dans la plus profonde\nconsternation.\nComme le d\u00e9barquement s\u2019\u00e9tait effectu\u00e9 le soir et \u00e0 l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9\norientale de l\u2019\u00eele, nos hommes eurent toute la nuit pour se consulter\net aviser \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il fallait faire. Et d\u2019abord, sachant que se tenir\ntotalement cach\u00e9s avait \u00e9t\u00e9 jusque-l\u00e0 leur seule planche de salut,\net devait l\u2019\u00eatre d\u2019autant plus encore, en cette conjoncture, que le\nnombre de leurs ennemis \u00e9tait fort grand, ils r\u00e9solurent de faire\ndispara\u00eetre les huttes qu\u2019ils avaient b\u00e2ties pour les deux Anglais,\net de conduire leurs ch\u00e8vres \u00e0 l\u2019ancienne grotte, parce qu\u2019ils\nsupposaient que les sauvages se porteraient directement sur ce point,\nsit\u00f4t qu\u2019il ferait jour, pour recommencer la m\u00eame \u00e9chauffour\u00e9e,\nquoiqu\u2019ils eussent pris terre cette fois \u00e0 plus de deux lieues de l\u00e0.\nIls men\u00e8rent aussi dans ce lieu les troupeaux qu\u2019ils avaient \u00e0\nl\u2019ancienne tonnelle, comme je l\u2019appelais, laquelle appartenait aux\nEspagnols; en un mot, autant que possible, ils ne laiss\u00e8rent nulle\npart de traces d\u2019habitation, et le lendemain matin, de bonne heure,\nils se post\u00e8rent avec toutes leurs forces pr\u00e8s de la plantation des\ndeux Anglais, pour y attendre l\u2019arriv\u00e9e des sauvages. Tout confirma\nleurs pr\u00e9visions: ces nouveaux agresseurs, laissant leurs canots \u00e0\nl\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 orientale de l\u2019\u00eele, s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent en longeant le rivage\ndroit \u00e0 cette place, au nombre de deux cent cinquante, suivant que les\nn\u00f4tres purent en juger. Notre arm\u00e9e se trouvait bien faible; mais le\npire de l\u2019affaire, c\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas d\u2019armes pour tout le\nmonde. Nos forces totales s\u2019\u00e9levaient, je crois, comme suit, en hommes:\n  17 Espagnols.\n   5 Anglais.\n   1 le vieux Vendredi, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire le p\u00e8re de Vendredi.\n   3 esclaves acquis avec les femmes, lesquels avaient fait preuve\n       de fid\u00e9lit\u00e9.\n   3 autres esclaves qui vivaient avec les Espagnols.\nPour armer ces gens, il y avait:\n  11 mousquets.\n   5 pistolets.\n   3 fusils de chasse.\n   5 mousquets ou arquebuses \u00e0 giboyer pris aux matelots r\u00e9volt\u00e9s\n       que j\u2019avais soumis.\n   2 sabres.\n   3 vieilles hallebardes.\n[Illustration: ... s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent en longeant le rivage...]\nOn ne donna aux esclaves ni mousquets ni fusils; mais chacun d\u2019eux fut\narm\u00e9 d\u2019une hallebarde, ou d\u2019un long b\u00e2ton, semblable \u00e0 un brindestoc,\ngarni d\u2019une longue pointe de fer \u00e0 chaque extr\u00e9mit\u00e9; ils avaient,\nen outre, une hachette au c\u00f4t\u00e9. Tous nos hommes portaient aussi une\nhache. Deux des femmes voulurent absolument prendre part au combat;\nelles s\u2019arm\u00e8rent d\u2019arcs et de fl\u00e8ches que les Espagnols avaient pris\naux sauvages lors de la premi\u00e8re affaire dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9, et qui avait\neu lieu entre les Indiens. Les femmes eurent aussi des haches.\nLe gouverneur espagnol, dont j\u2019ai souvent fait mention, avait le\ncommandement g\u00e9n\u00e9ral, et William Atkins, qui, bien que redoutable pour\nsa m\u00e9chancet\u00e9, \u00e9tait un compagnon intr\u00e9pide et r\u00e9solu, commandait sous\nlui.\nLes sauvages s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent comme des lions, et nos hommes, pour comble\nde malheur, n\u2019avaient pas l\u2019avantage du terrain. Seulement Will\nAtkins, qui rendit dans cette affaire d\u2019importants services, comme\nune sentinelle perdue, \u00e9tait plant\u00e9 avec six hommes derri\u00e8re un petit\nhallier, avec ordre de laisser passer les premiers et de faire feu\nensuite au beau milieu des autres, puis sur-le-champ de battre en\nretraite aussi vite que possible, en tournant une partie du bois pour\nvenir prendre position derri\u00e8re les Espagnols, qui se trouvaient\ncouverts par un fourr\u00e9 d\u2019arbres.\nQuand les sauvages arriv\u00e8rent, ils se mirent \u00e0 courir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 en\nmasse et sans aucun ordre. Will Atkins en laissa passer pr\u00e8s de lui\nune cinquantaine; puis, voyant venir les autres en foule, il ordonna\n\u00e0 trois de ses hommes de d\u00e9charger sur eux leurs mousquets charg\u00e9s de\nsix ou sept balles, aussi fortes que des balles de gros pistolets.\nCombien en tu\u00e8rent-ils ou en bless\u00e8rent-ils, c\u2019est ce qu\u2019ils ne surent\npas; mais la consternation et l\u2019\u00e9tonnement \u00e9taient inexprimables\nchez ces barbares, qui furent effray\u00e9s au plus haut degr\u00e9 d\u2019entendre\nun bruit terrible, de voir tomber leurs hommes morts ou bless\u00e9s, et\nsans comprendre d\u2019o\u00f9 cela provenait. Alors, au milieu de leur effroi,\nWilliam Atkins et ses trois hommes firent feu sur le plus \u00e9pais de la\nmasse, et en moins d\u2019une minute les trois premiers, ayant recharg\u00e9\nleurs armes, leur envoy\u00e8rent une troisi\u00e8me vol\u00e9e.\nSi William Atkins et ses hommes se fussent retir\u00e9s imm\u00e9diatement apr\u00e8s\navoir tir\u00e9, comme cela leur avait \u00e9t\u00e9 ordonn\u00e9, ou si le reste de la\ntroupe e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 port\u00e9e de prolonger le feu, les sauvages eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\nmis en pleine d\u00e9route, car la terreur dont ils \u00e9taient saisis venait\nsurtout de ce qu\u2019ils ne voyaient personne qui les frapp\u00e2t et de ce\nqu\u2019ils se croyaient tu\u00e9s par le tonnerre et les \u00e9clairs de leurs\ndieux. Mais William Atkins, en restant pour recharger, d\u00e9couvrit la\nruse.\nQuelques sauvages, qui les \u00e9piaient au loin, fondirent sur eux par\nderri\u00e8re, et, bien qu\u2019Atkins et ses hommes les eussent encore salu\u00e9s\nde deux ou trois fusillades et en eussent tu\u00e9 plus d\u2019une vingtaine\nen se retirant aussi vite que possible, cependant ils le bless\u00e8rent\nlui-m\u00eame et tu\u00e8rent avec leurs fl\u00e8ches un de ses compatriotes, comme\nils tu\u00e8rent ensuite un des Espagnols et un des esclaves indiens acquis\navec les femmes. Cet esclave \u00e9tait un brave compagnon, qui avait\ncombattu en furieux. De sa propre main il avait tu\u00e9 cinq sauvages,\nquoiqu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt pour armes qu\u2019un des b\u00e2tons ferr\u00e9s et une hache.\nAtkins \u00e9tant bless\u00e9 et deux autres \u00e9tant tu\u00e9s, nos hommes, ainsi\nmaltrait\u00e9s, se retir\u00e8rent sur un monticule dans le bois. Les\nEspagnols, apr\u00e8s avoir fait trois d\u00e9charges, op\u00e9r\u00e8rent aussi\nleur retraite; car les Indiens \u00e9taient si nombreux, et tellement\nd\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s, que, malgr\u00e9 qu\u2019il y en e\u00fbt de tu\u00e9s plus de cinquante et\nun beaucoup plus grand nombre de bless\u00e9s, ils se jetaient sans peur\ndu danger sur les pas de nos hommes et leur envoyaient une nu\u00e9e de\nfl\u00e8ches. On remarqua m\u00eame que leurs bless\u00e9s qui n\u2019\u00e9taient pas tout \u00e0\nfait mis hors de combat, exasp\u00e9r\u00e9s par leurs blessures, se battaient\ncomme des enrag\u00e9s.\nNos gens, dans leur retraite, avaient laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re eux les cadavres\nde l\u2019Espagnol et de l\u2019Anglais. Les sauvages, quand ils furent arriv\u00e9s\naupr\u00e8s, les mutil\u00e8rent de la mani\u00e8re la plus atroce, leur brisant les\nbras, les jambes et la t\u00eate avec leurs massues et leurs sabres de\nbois, comme de vrais sauvages qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient. Mais, voyant que nos\nhommes avaient disparu, ils sembl\u00e8rent ne pas vouloir les poursuivre,\nform\u00e8rent une esp\u00e8ce de cercle, ce qu\u2019ils ont coutume de faire, \u00e0 ce\nqu\u2019il para\u00eet, et pouss\u00e8rent deux grands cris en signe de victoire;\napr\u00e8s quoi ils eurent encore la mortification de voir tomber plusieurs\nde leurs bless\u00e9s qu\u2019avait \u00e9puis\u00e9s la perte de leur sang.\nLe gouverneur espagnol ayant rassembl\u00e9 tout son petit corps d\u2019arm\u00e9e\nsur une \u00e9minence, Atkins, quoique bless\u00e9, opinait pour qu\u2019on se\nport\u00e2t en avant et qu\u2019on fit une charge g\u00e9n\u00e9rale sur l\u2019ennemi. Mais\nl\u2019Espagnol r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abSe\u00f1or Atkins, vous avez vu comment leurs bless\u00e9s\nse battent; remettons la partie \u00e0 demain: tous ces \u00e9clop\u00e9s seront\nroidis et endoloris par leurs plaies, \u00e9puis\u00e9s par le sang qu\u2019ils\nauront perdu, et nous aurons alors beaucoup moins de besogne sur les\nbras.\u00bb\nL\u2019avis \u00e9tait bon. Mais Will Atkins reprit gaiement:\u2014\u00abC\u2019est vrai,\nse\u00f1or; mais il en sera de m\u00eame de moi, et c\u2019est pour cela que je\nvoudrais aller en avant tandis que je suis en haleine.\u00bb\u2014\u00abFort bien,\nse\u00f1or Atkins, dit l\u2019Espagnol: vous vous \u00eates conduit vaillamment,\nvous avez rempli votre t\u00e2che; nous combattrons pour vous si vous ne\npouvez venir; mais je pense qu\u2019il est mieux d\u2019attendre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 demain\nmatin.\u00bb\u2014Ils attendirent donc.\nMais, lorsqu\u2019il fit un beau clair de lune, et qu\u2019ils virent les\nsauvages dans un grand d\u00e9sordre, au milieu de leurs morts et de leurs\nbless\u00e9s et se pressant tumultueusement \u00e0 l\u2019entour, ils se r\u00e9solurent\n\u00e0 fondre sur eux pendant la nuit, dans le cas surtout o\u00f9 ils\npourraient leur envoyer une d\u00e9charge avant d\u2019\u00eatre aper\u00e7us. Il s\u2019offrit\n\u00e0 eux une belle occasion pour cela: car l\u2019un des deux Anglais, sur\nle terrain duquel l\u2019affaire s\u2019\u00e9tait engag\u00e9e, les ayant conduits par\nun d\u00e9tour entre les bois et la c\u00f4te occidentale, et l\u00e0 ayant tourn\u00e9\nbrusquement au sud, ils arriv\u00e8rent si pr\u00e8s du groupe le plus \u00e9pais,\nqu\u2019avant qu\u2019on e\u00fbt pu les voir ou les entendre, huit hommes tir\u00e8rent\nau beau milieu et firent une terrible ex\u00e9cution. Une demi-minute apr\u00e8s\nhuit autres tir\u00e8rent \u00e0 leur tour et les cribl\u00e8rent tellement de leurs\ndrag\u00e9es, qu\u2019ils en tu\u00e8rent ou bless\u00e8rent un grand nombre. Tout cela se\npassa sans qu\u2019ils pussent reconna\u00eetre qui les frappait, sans qu\u2019ils\nsussent par quel chemin fuir.\nLes Espagnols recharg\u00e8rent vivement leurs armes; puis, s\u2019\u00e9tant divis\u00e9s\nen trois corps, ils d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent de tomber tous ensemble sur l\u2019ennemi.\nChacun de ces pelotons se composait de huit personnes: ce qui formait\nen somme vingt-quatre combattants, dont vingt-deux hommes et deux\nfemmes, lesquelles, soit dit en passant, se battirent en d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9es.\nOn r\u00e9partit par peloton les armes \u00e0 feu, les hallebardes et les\nbrindestocs. On voulait que les femmes se tinssent derri\u00e8re, mais\nelles d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent qu\u2019elles \u00e9taient d\u00e9cid\u00e9es \u00e0 mourir avec leurs\nmaris. Leur petite arm\u00e9e ainsi dispos\u00e9e, ils sortirent d\u2019entre les\narbres et se jet\u00e8rent sur l\u2019ennemi en criant et en h\u00e9lant de toutes\nleurs forces. Les Indiens se tenaient l\u00e0 debout tous ensemble, mais\nils tomb\u00e8rent dans la plus grande confusion en entendant les cris\nque jetaient nos gens sur trois diff\u00e9rents points. Cependant ils en\nseraient venus aux mains s\u2019ils nous eussent aper\u00e7us; car \u00e0 peine\nf\u00fbmes-nous assez pr\u00e8s pour qu\u2019ils nous vissent qu\u2019ils nous d\u00e9coch\u00e8rent\nquelques fl\u00e8ches, et que le pauvre vieux Vendredi fut bless\u00e9,\nl\u00e9g\u00e8rement toutefois. Mais nos gens, sans plus de temps, fondirent\nsur eux, firent feu de trois c\u00f4t\u00e9s, puis tomb\u00e8rent dessus \u00e0 coups de\ncrosse de mousquet, \u00e0 coups de sabres, de b\u00e2tons ferr\u00e9s et de haches,\net, en un mot, les frott\u00e8rent si bien, qu\u2019ils se mirent \u00e0 pousser des\ncris et des hurlements sinistres en s\u2019enfuyant de tous c\u00f4t\u00e9s pour\n\u00e9chapper \u00e0 la mort.\nLes n\u00f4tres \u00e9taient fatigu\u00e9s de ce carnage: ils avaient tu\u00e9 ou bless\u00e9\nmortellement, dans les deux rencontres, environ cent quatre-vingts de\nces barbares. Les autres, \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s, se sauv\u00e8rent \u00e0 travers les bois\net sur les collines, avec toute la vitesse que pouvaient leur donner\nla frayeur et des pieds agiles; et voyant que nos hommes se mettaient\npeu en peine de les poursuivre, ils se rassembl\u00e8rent sur la c\u00f4te o\u00f9\nils avaient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 et o\u00f9 leurs canots \u00e9taient amarr\u00e9s. Mais leur\nd\u00e9sastre n\u2019\u00e9tait pas encore au bout: car, ce soir-l\u00e0, un vent terrible\ns\u2019\u00e9leva de la mer, et il leur fut impossible de prendre le large. Pour\nsurcro\u00eet, la temp\u00eate ayant dur\u00e9 toute la nuit, \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e montante\nla plupart de leurs pirogues furent entra\u00een\u00e9es par la houle si avant\nsur la rive, qu\u2019il aurait fallu bien des efforts pour les remettre\n\u00e0 flot. Quelques-unes m\u00eame furent bris\u00e9es contre le rivage, ou en\ns\u2019entre-choquant.\nNos hommes, bien que joyeux de leur victoire, ne prirent cependant\nque peu de repos cette nuit-l\u00e0, et, apr\u00e8s s\u2019\u00eatre refaits le mieux\nqu\u2019ils purent, ils r\u00e9solurent de se porter vers cette partie de l\u2019\u00eele\no\u00f9 les sauvages avaient fui, afin de voir dans quel \u00e9tat ils \u00e9taient.\nCeci les mena n\u00e9cessairement sur le lieu du combat, o\u00f9 ils trouv\u00e8rent\nplusieurs de ces pauvres cr\u00e9atures qui respiraient encore, mais que\nrien n\u2019aurait pu sauver. Triste spectacle pour des c\u0153urs g\u00e9n\u00e9reux! car\nun homme vraiment noble, quoique forc\u00e9 par les lois de la guerre de\nd\u00e9truire son ennemi, ne prend point plaisir \u00e0 ses souffrances.\nTout ordre, du reste, \u00e9tait inutile \u00e0 cet \u00e9gard, car les sauvages que\nles n\u00f4tres avaient \u00e0 leur service d\u00e9p\u00each\u00e8rent ces pauvres cr\u00e9atures \u00e0\ncoups de haches.\n[Illustration: ... d\u00e9p\u00each\u00e8rent ces pauvres cr\u00e9atures \u00e0 coups de\nhaches.]\nIls arriv\u00e8rent enfin en vue du lieu o\u00f9 les ch\u00e9tifs d\u00e9bris de l\u2019arm\u00e9e\nindienne \u00e9taient rassembl\u00e9s. L\u00e0 restait environ une centaine d\u2019hommes,\ndont la plupart \u00e9taient assis \u00e0 terre, accroupis, la t\u00eate entre leurs\nmains et appuy\u00e9e sur leurs genoux.\nQuand nos gens ne furent plus qu\u2019\u00e0 deux port\u00e9es de mousquet des\nvaincus, le gouverneur espagnol ordonna de tirer deux coups \u00e0 poudre\npour leur donner l\u2019alarme, \u00e0 dessein de voir par leur contenance ce\nqu\u2019il avait \u00e0 en attendre, s\u2019ils \u00e9taient encore dispos\u00e9s \u00e0 combattre\nou s\u2019ils \u00e9taient effray\u00e9s au point d\u2019\u00eatre abattus et d\u00e9courag\u00e9s, et\nafin d\u2019agir en cons\u00e9quence.\nLe stratag\u00e8me eut un plein succ\u00e8s, car les sauvages n\u2019eurent pas plus\nt\u00f4t entendu le premier coup de feu et vu la lueur du second, qu\u2019ils\nse dress\u00e8rent sur leurs pieds dans la plus grande consternation\nimaginable, et, comme nos gens se pr\u00e9cipitaient sur eux, ils\ns\u2019enfuirent en criant, hurlant et poussant une sorte de mugissement\nque nos hommes ne comprirent pas et n\u2019avaient point ou\u00ef jusque-l\u00e0, et\nils se r\u00e9fugi\u00e8rent sur les hauteurs plus avant dans le pays.\nLes n\u00f4tres eussent d\u2019abord pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 que le temps e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 calme et\nque les sauvages se fussent rembarqu\u00e9s. Mais ils ne consid\u00e9raient\npas alors que cela pourrait en amener par la suite des multitudes\nauxquelles il leur serait impossible de r\u00e9sister, ou du moins \u00eatre\nla cause d\u2019incursions si redoutables et si fr\u00e9quentes qu\u2019elles\nd\u00e9soleraient l\u2019\u00eele et les feraient p\u00e9rir de faim. Will Atkins, qui,\nmalgr\u00e9 sa blessure, se tenait toujours avec eux, se montra, dans cette\noccurrence, le meilleur conseiller: il fallait, selon lui, saisir\nl\u2019occasion qui s\u2019offrait de se jeter entre eux et leurs canots, et,\npar l\u00e0, les emp\u00eacher \u00e0 jamais de revenir inqui\u00e9ter l\u2019\u00eele.\nOn tint longtemps conseil sur ce point. Quelques-uns s\u2019opposaient \u00e0\ncela de peur qu\u2019on ne for\u00e7\u00e2t ces mis\u00e9rables \u00e0 se retirer dans les\nbois, et \u00e0 n\u2019\u00e9couter que leur d\u00e9sespoir.\u2014\u00abDans ce cas, disaient-ils,\nnous serons oblig\u00e9s de leur donner la chasse comme \u00e0 des b\u00eates\nf\u00e9roces; nous redouterons de sortir pour nos travaux; nous aurons nos\nplantations incessamment pill\u00e9es, nos troupeaux d\u00e9truits; bref, nous\nserons r\u00e9duits \u00e0 une vie de mis\u00e8res continuelles.\u00bb\nWill Atkins r\u00e9pondit que mieux valait avoir affaire \u00e0 cent hommes\nqu\u2019\u00e0 cent nations; que s\u2019il fallait d\u00e9truire les canots, il fallait\naussi d\u00e9truire les hommes, sinon \u00eatre soi-m\u00eame d\u00e9truit. En un mot, il\nleur d\u00e9montra cette n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d\u2019une mani\u00e8re si palpable, qu\u2019ils se\nrang\u00e8rent tous \u00e0 son avis. Aussit\u00f4t ils se mirent \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre sur les\npirogues, et, arrachant du bois sec d\u2019un arbre mort, ils essay\u00e8rent\nde mettre le feu \u00e0 quelques-unes de ces embarcations; mais elles\n\u00e9taient si humides qu\u2019elles purent \u00e0 peine br\u00fbler. N\u00e9anmoins, le\nfeu endommagea tellement leurs parties sup\u00e9rieures, qu\u2019elles furent\nbient\u00f4t hors d\u2019\u00e9tat de tenir la mer. Quand les Indiens virent \u00e0 quoi\nnos hommes \u00e9taient occup\u00e9s, quelques-uns d\u2019entre eux sortirent des\nbois en toute h\u00e2te, et, s\u2019approchant le plus qu\u2019ils purent, ils se\njet\u00e8rent \u00e0 genoux et se mirent \u00e0 crier:\u2014\u00abOa, oa, waramokoa!\u00bb et \u00e0\nprof\u00e9rer quelques autres mots de leur langue que personne ne comprit;\nmais, comme ils faisaient des gestes piteux et poussaient des cris\n\u00e9tranges, il fut ais\u00e9 de reconna\u00eetre qu\u2019ils suppliaient pour qu\u2019on\n\u00e9pargn\u00e2t leurs canots, et qu\u2019ils promettaient de s\u2019en aller pour ne\nplus revenir.\nMais nos gens \u00e9taient alors convaincus qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient d\u2019autre moyen\nde se conserver ou de sauver leur \u00e9tablissement que d\u2019emp\u00eacher \u00e0\ntout jamais les Indiens de revenir dans l\u2019\u00eele, sachant bien que s\u2019il\narrivait seulement \u00e0 l\u2019un d\u2019eux de retourner parmi les siens pour leur\nconter l\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nement, c\u2019en \u00e9tait fait de la colonie. En cons\u00e9quence,\nfaisant comprendre aux Indiens qu\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas de merci pour eux,\nils se remirent \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre et d\u00e9truisirent les canots que la temp\u00eate\navait \u00e9pargn\u00e9s. A cette vue, les sauvages firent retentir les bois\nd\u2019un horrible cri que notre monde entendit assez distinctement; puis\nils se mirent \u00e0 courir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans l\u2019\u00eele comme des insens\u00e9s, de\nsorte que nos colons ne surent r\u00e9ellement pas d\u2019abord comment s\u2019y\nprendre avec eux.\nLes Espagnols, avec toute leur prudence, n\u2019avaient pas pens\u00e9 que\ntandis qu\u2019ils r\u00e9duisaient ainsi ces hommes au d\u00e9sespoir, ils devaient\nfaire bonne garde autour de leurs plantations; car, bien qu\u2019ils\neussent transf\u00e9r\u00e9 leur b\u00e9tail, et que les Indiens n\u2019eussent pas\ntrouv\u00e9 leur principale retraite,\u2014je veux dire mon vieux ch\u00e2teau de\nla colline,\u2014ni la caverne dans la vall\u00e9e, ceux-ci avaient d\u00e9couvert\ncependant ma plantation de la tonnelle, l\u2019avaient saccag\u00e9e, ainsi\nque les enclos et les cultures d\u2019alentour, foulant aux pieds le bl\u00e9,\narrachant les vignes et les raisins d\u00e9j\u00e0 presque m\u00fbrs, et faisant\n\u00e9prouver \u00e0 la colonie une perte inestimable sans en retirer aucun\nprofit.\nQuoique nos gens pussent les combattre en toute occasion, ils\nn\u2019\u00e9taient pas en \u00e9tat de les poursuivre et de les pourchasser;\ncar, les Indiens \u00e9tant trop agiles pour nos hommes quand ils les\nrencontraient seuls, aucun des n\u00f4tres n\u2019osait s\u2019aventurer isol\u00e9ment,\ndans la crainte d\u2019\u00eatre envelopp\u00e9 par eux. Fort heureusement ils\n\u00e9taient sans armes: ils avaient des arcs, il est vrai, mais point\nde fl\u00e8ches, ni mat\u00e9riaux pour en faire, ni outils, ni instruments\ntranchants.\nL\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 et la d\u00e9tresse o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9duits \u00e9taient grandes et\nvraiment d\u00e9plorables, mais l\u2019\u00e9tat o\u00f9 ils avaient jet\u00e9 nos colons\nne valait pas mieux; car, malgr\u00e9 que leurs retraites eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\npr\u00e9serv\u00e9es, leurs provisions \u00e9taient d\u00e9truites et leur moisson\nravag\u00e9e. Que faire, \u00e0 quels moyens recourir? ils ne le savaient. La\nseule ressource qui leur rest\u00e2t, c\u2019\u00e9tait le b\u00e9tail qu\u2019ils avaient\ndans la vall\u00e9e pr\u00e8s de la caverne, le peu de bl\u00e9 qui y croissait et\nla plantation des trois Anglais, Will Atkins et ses camarades, alors\nr\u00e9duits \u00e0 deux, l\u2019un d\u2019entre eux ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 frapp\u00e9 \u00e0 la t\u00eate, juste\nau-dessous de la tempe, par une fl\u00e8che qui l\u2019avait fait taire \u00e0\njamais. Et, chose remarquable, celui-ci \u00e9tait ce m\u00eame homme cruel qui\navait port\u00e9 un coup de hache au pauvre esclave indien, et qui ensuite\navait form\u00e9 le projet d\u2019assassiner les Espagnols.\nA mon sens, la condition de nos colons \u00e9tait pire en ce temps-l\u00e0\nque ne l\u2019avait jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 la mienne depuis que j\u2019eus d\u00e9couvert les\ngrains d\u2019orge et de riz, et que j\u2019eus acquis la m\u00e9thode de semer et de\ncultiver mon bl\u00e9 et d\u2019\u00e9lever mon b\u00e9tail; car alors ils avaient, pour\nainsi dire, une centaine de loups dans l\u2019\u00eele, pr\u00eats \u00e0 faire leur proie\nde tout ce qu\u2019ils pourraient saisir, mais qu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas facile de\nsaisir eux-m\u00eames.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose qu\u2019ils r\u00e9solurent de faire, quand ils virent la\nsituation o\u00f9 ils se trouvaient, ce fut, s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible, de\nrel\u00e9guer les sauvages dans la partie la plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e de l\u2019\u00eele, au\nsud-est, afin que si d\u2019autres Indiens venaient \u00e0 descendre au rivage,\nils ne pussent les rencontrer; puis, une fois l\u00e0, de les traquer,\nde les harasser chaque jour, et de tuer tous ceux qu\u2019ils pourraient\napprocher, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils eussent r\u00e9duit leur nombre, et s\u2019ils\npouvaient enfin les apprivoiser et les rendre propres \u00e0 quelque chose,\nde leur donner du bl\u00e9, et de leur enseigner \u00e0 cultiver la terre et \u00e0\nvivre de leur travail journalier.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, ils les serr\u00e8rent de pr\u00e8s et les \u00e9pouvant\u00e8rent\ntellement par le bruit de leurs armes, qu\u2019au bout de peu de temps,\nsi un des colons tirait sur un Indien et le manquait, n\u00e9anmoins il\ntombait de peur. Leur effroi fut si grand, qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9loign\u00e8rent de\nplus en plus, et que, harcel\u00e9s par nos gens, qui tous les jours en\ntuaient ou blessaient quelques-uns, ils se confin\u00e8rent tellement dans\nles bois et dans les endroits creux, que le manque de nourriture les\nr\u00e9duisit \u00e0 la plus horrible mis\u00e8re, et qu\u2019on en trouva plusieurs morts\ndans les bois, sans aucune blessure, que la faim seule avait fait\np\u00e9rir.\nQuand les n\u00f4tres trouv\u00e8rent ces cadavres, leurs c\u0153urs s\u2019attendrirent,\net ils se sentirent \u00e9mus de compassion, surtout le gouverneur\nespagnol, qui \u00e9tait l\u2019homme du caract\u00e8re le plus noblement g\u00e9n\u00e9reux\nque de ma vie j\u2019aie jamais rencontr\u00e9. Il proposa, si faire se pouvait,\nde saisir vivant un de ces malheureux, et de l\u2019amener \u00e0 comprendre\nassez leur dessein pour qu\u2019il p\u00fbt servir d\u2019interpr\u00e8te aupr\u00e8s des\nautres, et savoir d\u2019eux s\u2019ils n\u2019acquiesceraient pas \u00e0 quelque\ncondition qui leur assurerait la vie, et garantirait la colonie du\npillage.\nIl s\u2019\u00e9coula quelque temps avant qu\u2019on p\u00fbt en prendre aucun; mais,\ncomme ils \u00e9taient faibles et ext\u00e9nu\u00e9s, l\u2019un d\u2019eux fut enfin surpris et\nfait prisonnier. Il se montra d\u2019abord r\u00e9tif, et ne voulut ni manger ni\nboire; mais, se voyant trait\u00e9 avec bont\u00e9, voyant qu\u2019on lui donnait des\naliments, et qu\u2019il n\u2019avait \u00e0 supporter aucune violence, il finit par\ndevenir plus maniable et par se rassurer.\nOn lui amena le vieux Vendredi, qui s\u2019entretint souvent avec lui\net lui dit combien les n\u00f4tres seraient bons envers tous les siens;\nque non seulement ils auraient la vie sauve, mais encore qu\u2019on leur\naccorderait pour demeure une partie de l\u2019\u00eele, pourvu qu\u2019ils donnassent\nl\u2019assurance qu\u2019ils garderaient leurs propres limites, et qu\u2019ils\nne viendraient pas au del\u00e0 pour faire tort ou pour faire outrage\naux colons; enfin qu\u2019on leur donnerait du bl\u00e9 qu\u2019ils s\u00e8meraient et\ncultiveraient pour leurs besoins, et du pain pour leur subsistance\npr\u00e9sente.\u2014Ensuite le vieux Vendredi commanda au sauvage d\u2019aller\ntrouver ses compatriotes et de voir ce qu\u2019ils penseraient de la\nproposition, lui affirmant que s\u2019ils n\u2019y adh\u00e9raient imm\u00e9diatement, ils\nseraient tous d\u00e9truits.\nCes pauvres gens, profond\u00e9ment abattus et r\u00e9duits au nombre d\u2019environ\ntrente-sept, accueillirent tout d\u2019abord cette offre, et pri\u00e8rent\nqu\u2019on leur donn\u00e2t quelque nourriture. L\u00e0-dessus douze Espagnols et\ndeux Anglais, bien arm\u00e9s, avec trois esclaves indiens et le vieux\nVendredi, se transport\u00e8rent au lieu o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient: les trois esclaves\nindiens charriaient une grande quantit\u00e9 de pain, du riz cuit en\ng\u00e2teaux et s\u00e9ch\u00e9 au soleil, et trois ch\u00e8vres vivantes. On enjoignit\n\u00e0 ces infortun\u00e9s de se rendre sur le versant d\u2019une colline, o\u00f9 ils\ns\u2019assirent pour manger avec force gestes de reconnaissance. Ils furent\nplus fid\u00e8les \u00e0 leur parole qu\u2019on ne l\u2019aurait pens\u00e9; car, except\u00e9 quand\nils venaient demander des vivres et des instructions, jamais ils ne\npass\u00e8rent leurs limites. C\u2019est l\u00e0 qu\u2019ils vivaient encore lors de mon\narriv\u00e9e dans l\u2019\u00eele, et que j\u2019allai les visiter.\n[Illustration: Ils s\u2019assirent pour manger avec force gestes de\nreconnaissance.]\nLes colons leur avaient appris \u00e0 semer le bl\u00e9, \u00e0 faire le pain,\n\u00e0 \u00e9lever des ch\u00e8vres et \u00e0 les traire. Rien ne leur manquait que\ndes femmes pour devenir bient\u00f4t une nation. Ils \u00e9taient confin\u00e9s\nsur une langue de terre; derri\u00e8re eux s\u2019\u00e9levaient des rochers, et\ndevant eux une vaste plaine se prolongeait vers la mer, \u00e0 la pointe\nsud-est de l\u2019\u00eele. Leur terrain \u00e9tait bon et fertile et ils en avaient\nsuffisamment; car il s\u2019\u00e9tendait d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 sur une largeur d\u2019un mille\net demi, et de l\u2019autre sur une longueur de trois ou quatre milles.\nNos hommes leur enseign\u00e8rent aussi \u00e0 faire des b\u00eaches en bois, comme\nj\u2019en avais fait pour mon usage, et leur donn\u00e8rent douze hachettes et\ntrois ou quatre couteaux; et, l\u00e0, ils v\u00e9curent comme les plus soumises\net les plus innocentes cr\u00e9atures que jamais on n\u2019e\u00fbt su voir.\nLa colonie jouit apr\u00e8s cela d\u2019une parfaite tranquillit\u00e9 quant aux\nsauvages, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la nouvelle visite que je lui fis, environ deux ans\napr\u00e8s. Ce n\u2019est pas que de temps \u00e0 autre quelques canots de sauvages\nn\u2019abordassent \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eele pour la c\u00e9l\u00e9bration barbare de leurs triomphes;\nmais comme ils appartenaient \u00e0 diverses nations, et que, peut-\u00eatre,\nils n\u2019avaient point entendu parler de ceux qui \u00e9taient venus, ils ne\nfirent, \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9gard de leurs compatriotes, aucune recherche, et, en\neussent-ils fait, qu\u2019il leur e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fort difficile de les d\u00e9couvrir.\nVoici que j\u2019ai donn\u00e9, ce me semble, la relation compl\u00e8te de ce qui\n\u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 nos colons jusqu\u2019\u00e0 mon retour, au moins de ce qui\n\u00e9tait digne de remarque. Ils avaient merveilleusement civilis\u00e9 les\nIndiens ou sauvages, et allaient souvent les visiter; mais ils leur\nd\u00e9fendaient, sous peine de mort, de venir parmi eux, afin que leur\n\u00e9tablissement ne f\u00fbt pas livr\u00e9 derechef.\nUne chose vraiment notable, c\u2019est que les sauvages, \u00e0 qui ils avaient\nappris \u00e0 faire des paniers et de la vannerie, surpass\u00e8rent bient\u00f4t\nleurs ma\u00eetres. Ils tress\u00e8rent une multitude de choses les plus\ning\u00e9nieuses, surtout des corbeilles de toute esp\u00e8ce, des cribles, des\ncages \u00e0 oiseaux, des buffets, ainsi que des chaises pour s\u2019asseoir,\ndes escabelles, des lits, des couchettes et beaucoup d\u2019autres choses\nencore; car ils d\u00e9ployaient dans ce genre d\u2019ouvrage une adresse\nremarquable, quand une fois on les avait mis sur la voie.\nMon arriv\u00e9e leur fut d\u2019un grand secours, en ce que nous les\napprovisionn\u00e2mes de couteaux, de ciseaux, de b\u00eaches, de pelles, de\npioches et de toutes choses semblables dont ils pouvaient avoir besoin.\nIls devinrent tellement adroits, \u00e0 l\u2019aide de ces outils, qu\u2019ils\nparvinrent \u00e0 se b\u00e2tir de fort jolies huttes ou maisonnettes, dont ils\ntressaient et arrondissaient les contours comme \u00e0 de la vannerie;\nvrais chefs-d\u2019\u0153uvre d\u2019industrie et d\u2019un aspect fort bizarre, mais\nqui les prot\u00e9geaient efficacement contre la chaleur et contre toutes\nsortes d\u2019insectes. Nos hommes en \u00e9taient tellement \u00e9pris, qu\u2019ils\ninvit\u00e8rent la tribu sauvage \u00e0 les venir voir et \u00e0 s\u2019en construire\nde pareilles. Aussi, quand j\u2019allai visiter la colonie des deux\nAnglais, ces planteurs me firent-ils de loin l\u2019effet de vivre comme\ndes abeilles dans une ruche. Quant \u00e0 Will Atkins, qui \u00e9tait devenu\nun gar\u00e7on industrieux, laborieux et r\u00e9gl\u00e9, il s\u2019\u00e9tait fait une tente\nen vannerie comme on n\u2019en avait, je pense, jamais vu. Elle avait\ncent vingt pas de tour \u00e0 l\u2019ext\u00e9rieur, je la mesurai moi-m\u00eame. Les\nmurailles \u00e9taient \u00e0 brins aussi serr\u00e9s que ceux d\u2019un panier, et se\ncomposaient de trente-deux panneaux ou carr\u00e9s, tr\u00e8s solides,\nd\u2019environ sept pieds de hauteur. Au milieu s\u2019en trouvait une autre,\nqui n\u2019avait pas plus de vingt-deux pas de circonf\u00e9rence, mais d\u2019une\nconstruction encore plus solide, car elle \u00e9tait divis\u00e9e en huit\npans, aux huit angles desquels se trouvaient huit forts poteaux.\nSur leur sommet il avait plac\u00e9 de grosses charpentes, jointes\nensemble au moyen de chevilles de bois, et d\u2019o\u00f9 il avait \u00e9lev\u00e9 pour\nla couverture une pyramide de huit chevrons fort \u00e9l\u00e9gante, je vous\nl\u2019assure, et parfaitement assembl\u00e9e, quoiqu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt pas de clous,\nmais seulement quelques broches de fer qu\u2019il s\u2019\u00e9tait faites avec la\nferraille que j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9e dans l\u2019\u00eele.\u2014Cet adroit gar\u00e7on donna\nvraiment des preuves d\u2019une grande industrie en beaucoup de choses\ndont la connaissance lui manquait. Il se fit une forge et une paire\nde soufflets en bois pour attiser le feu; il se fabriqua encore le\ncharbon qu\u2019en exigeait l\u2019usage, et, d\u2019une pince de fer, il fit une\nenclume fort passable. Cela le mit \u00e0 m\u00eame de fa\u00e7onner une foule de\nchoses, des crochets, des g\u00e2ches, des pointes, des verrous et des\ngonds.\u2014Mais revenons \u00e0 sa case. Apr\u00e8s qu\u2019il eut pos\u00e9 le comble de la\ntente int\u00e9rieure, il remplit les entrevous des chevrons au moyen d\u2019un\ntreillis si solide et qu\u2019il recouvrit si ing\u00e9nieusement de paille\nde riz, et au sommet d\u2019une large feuille d\u2019un certain arbre, que sa\nmaison \u00e9tait tout aussi \u00e0 l\u2019abri de l\u2019humidit\u00e9 que si elle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\ncouverte en tuiles ou en ardoises. Il m\u2019avoua, il est vrai, que les\nsauvages lui avaient fait la vannerie.\nL\u2019enceinte ext\u00e9rieure \u00e9tait couverte, comme une galerie, tout autour\nde la rotonde int\u00e9rieure, et de grands chevrons s\u2019\u00e9tendaient de\ntrente-deux angles au sommet des poteaux de l\u2019habitation du milieu,\n\u00e9loign\u00e9e d\u2019environ vingt pieds, de sorte qu\u2019il y avait entre le mur\nde clayonnage ext\u00e9rieur et le mur int\u00e9rieur un espace semblable \u00e0 un\npromenoir, de la largeur de vingt pieds \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s.\nIl avait divis\u00e9 la place int\u00e9rieure avec un pareil clayonnage, mais\nbeaucoup plus d\u00e9licat, et l\u2019avait distribu\u00e9e en six logements, ou\nchambres de plain-pied, ayant d\u2019abord chacune une porte donnant\next\u00e9rieurement sur l\u2019entr\u00e9e ou passage conduisant \u00e0 la tente\nprincipale, puis une autre sur l\u2019espace ou promenoir qui r\u00e9gnait\nau pourtour, de mani\u00e8re que ce promenoir \u00e9tait aussi divis\u00e9 en six\nparties \u00e9gales, qui servaient non seulement de retraits, mais encore\n\u00e0 entreposer toutes les choses n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 la famille. Ces six\nespaces n\u2019occupant point toute la circonf\u00e9rence, les autres logements\nde la galerie \u00e9taient dispos\u00e9s ainsi: aussit\u00f4t que vous aviez pass\u00e9\nla porte de l\u2019enceinte ext\u00e9rieure, vous aviez droit devant vous un\npetit passage conduisant \u00e0 la porte de la case int\u00e9rieure; de chaque\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 \u00e9tait une cloison de clayonnage, avec une porte par laquelle\nvous p\u00e9n\u00e9triez d\u2019abord dans une vaste chambre ou magasin, de vingt\npieds de large sur environ trente de long, et de l\u00e0 dans une autre\nun peu moins longue. Ainsi, dans le pourtour, il y avait dix belles\nchambres, dont six n\u2019avaient entr\u00e9e que par les logements de la tente\nint\u00e9rieure, et servaient de cabinets ou de retraits \u00e0 chaque chambre\nrespective de cette tente, et quatre grands magasins, ou granges, ou\ncomme il vous plaira de les appeler, deux de chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 du passage\nqui conduisait de la porte d\u2019entr\u00e9e \u00e0 la rotonde int\u00e9rieure, et\ndonnant l\u2019un dans l\u2019autre.\nCHAPITRE III\n     Nouvelle habitation.\u2014Mis\u00e8res pass\u00e9es.\u2014Accord parfait.\u2014Distribution\n     des outils.\u2014Une cargaison compl\u00e8te.\u2014Un pr\u00eatre fran\u00e7ais.\u2014Nouveau\n     missionnaire.\u2014Pieuses exhortations.\u2014Mariages.\u2014Conversion de\n     William Atkins.\nUn pareil morceau de vannerie, je crois, n\u2019a jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 vu dans le\nmonde, pas plus qu\u2019une maison ou tente si bien con\u00e7ue, surtout b\u00e2tie\ncomme cela. Dans cette grande ruche habitaient les trois familles,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire William Atkins et ses compagnons; le troisi\u00e8me avait \u00e9t\u00e9\ntu\u00e9, mais sa femme restait avec trois enfants,\u2014car elle \u00e9tait sur le\npoint d\u2019en avoir un autre lorsqu\u2019il mourut. Les deux survivants ne\nn\u00e9gligeaient pas de fournir la veuve de toutes choses, j\u2019entends de\nbl\u00e9, de lait, de raisins, et de lui faire bonne part quand ils tuaient\nun chevreau ou trouvaient une tortue sur le rivage; de sorte qu\u2019ils\nvivaient tous assez bien, quoiqu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 ceux-ci ne fussent pas\naussi industrieux que les deux autres, comme je l\u2019ai fait observer\nd\u00e9j\u00e0.\n[Illustration: Dans cette grande ruche habitaient les trois\nfamilles...]\nIl est une chose qui toutefois ne saurait \u00eatre omise; c\u2019est, qu\u2019en\nfait de religion, je ne sache pas qu\u2019il exist\u00e2t rien de semblable\nparmi eux. Il est vrai qu\u2019assez souvent ils se faisaient souvenir\nl\u2019un l\u2019autre qu\u2019il est un Dieu, mais c\u2019\u00e9tait purement par la commune\nm\u00e9thode des marins, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire en blasph\u00e9mant son nom. Leurs\nfemmes, pauvres ignorantes sauvages, n\u2019en \u00e9taient pas beaucoup plus\n\u00e9clair\u00e9es pour \u00eatre mari\u00e9es \u00e0 des chr\u00e9tiens, si on peut les appeler\nainsi, car eux-m\u00eames, ayant fort peu de notions de Dieu, se trouvaient\nprofond\u00e9ment incapables d\u2019entrer en discours avec elles sur la\ndivinit\u00e9, ou de leur parler de rien qui concern\u00e2t la religion.\nLe plus grand profit qu\u2019elles avaient, je puis dire, retir\u00e9 de leur\nalliance, c\u2019\u00e9tait d\u2019avoir appris de leurs maris \u00e0 parler passablement\nl\u2019anglais. Tous leurs enfants, qui pouvaient bien \u00eatre une vingtaine,\napprenaient de m\u00eame \u00e0 s\u2019exprimer en anglais d\u00e8s leurs premiers\nb\u00e9gaiements, quoiqu\u2019ils ne fissent d\u2019abord que l\u2019\u00e9corcher, comme\nleurs m\u00e8res. Pas un de ces enfants n\u2019avait plus de six ans quand\nj\u2019arrivai, car il n\u2019y en avait pas beaucoup plus de sept que ces\ncinq ladies sauvages avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9es; mais toutes avaient eu des\nenfants, plus ou moins. La femme du cuisinier en second en \u00e9tait, je\ncrois, \u00e0 son sixi\u00e8me. Ces m\u00e8res \u00e9taient toutes d\u2019une heureuse nature,\npaisibles, laborieuses, modestes et d\u00e9centes, s\u2019aidant l\u2019une l\u2019autre,\nparfaitement ob\u00e9issantes et soumises \u00e0 leurs ma\u00eetres. Il ne leur\nmanquait rien que d\u2019\u00eatre bien instruites dans la religion chr\u00e9tienne\net d\u2019\u00eatre l\u00e9gitimement mari\u00e9es, avantages dont heureusement, dans la\nsuite, elles jouirent par mes soins, ou du moins par les cons\u00e9quences\nde ma venue dans l\u2019\u00eele.\nAyant ainsi parl\u00e9 de la colonie en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral et assez longuement de mes\ncinq chenapans d\u2019Anglais, je dois dire quelque chose des Espagnols,\nqui formaient le principal corps de la famille, et dont l\u2019histoire\noffre aussi quelques incidents assez remarquables.\nJ\u2019eus de nombreux entretiens avec eux sur ce qu\u2019\u00e9tait leur situation\ndurant leur s\u00e9jour parmi les sauvages. Ils m\u2019avou\u00e8rent franchement\nqu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient aucune preuve \u00e0 donner de leur savoir-faire ou\nde leur industrie dans ce pays; qu\u2019ils n\u2019\u00e9taient l\u00e0 qu\u2019une pauvre\npoign\u00e9e d\u2019hommes mis\u00e9rables et abattus; que, quand bien m\u00eame ils\neussent eu des ressources entre les mains, ils ne s\u2019en seraient pas\nmoins abandonn\u00e9s au d\u00e9sespoir; et qu\u2019ils ployaient tellement sous\nle poids de leurs infortunes, qu\u2019ils ne songeaient qu\u2019\u00e0 se laisser\nmourir de faim.\u2014Un d\u2019entre eux, personnage grave et judicieux, me\ndit qu\u2019il \u00e9tait convaincu qu\u2019ils avaient eu tort; qu\u2019\u00e0 des hommes\nsages il n\u2019appartient pas de s\u2019abandonner \u00e0 leur mis\u00e8re, mais de se\nsaisir incessamment des secours que leur offre la raison, tant pour\nl\u2019existence pr\u00e9sente que pour la d\u00e9livrance future.\u2014\u00abLe chagrin,\najouta-t-il, est la plus insens\u00e9e et la plus insignifiante passion du\nmonde, parce qu\u2019elle n\u2019a pour objet que les choses pass\u00e9es, qui sont\nen g\u00e9n\u00e9ral irr\u00e9vocables ou irr\u00e9m\u00e9diables; parce qu\u2019elle n\u2019embrasse\npoint l\u2019avenir, qu\u2019elle n\u2019entre pour rien dans ce qui touche le\nsalut, et qu\u2019elle ajoute plut\u00f4t \u00e0 l\u2019affliction qu\u2019elle n\u2019y apporte\nrem\u00e8de.\u00bb\u2014L\u00e0-dessus il cita un proverbe espagnol que je ne puis r\u00e9p\u00e9ter\ndans les m\u00eames termes, mais dont je me souviens avoir habill\u00e9 \u00e0 ma\nfa\u00e7on un proverbe anglais, que voici:\n    Dans le trouble soyez troubl\u00e9,\n    Votre trouble sera doubl\u00e9.\nEnsuite il abonda en remarques sur toutes les petites am\u00e9liorations\nque j\u2019avais introduites dans ma solitude, sur mon infatigable\nindustrie, comme il l\u2019appelait, et sur la mani\u00e8re dont j\u2019avais rendu\nune condition, par ses circonstances d\u2019abord pire que la leur, mille\nfois plus heureuse que celle dans laquelle ils \u00e9taient, m\u00eame alors\no\u00f9 ils se trouvaient tous ensemble. Il me dit qu\u2019il \u00e9tait \u00e0 remarquer\nque les Anglais avaient une plus grande pr\u00e9sence d\u2019esprit dans la\nd\u00e9tresse que tout autre peuple qu\u2019il e\u00fbt jamais vu; que ses malheureux\ncompatriotes, ainsi que les Portugais, \u00e9taient la pire esp\u00e8ce d\u2019hommes\nde l\u2019univers pour lutter contre l\u2019adversit\u00e9, parce que dans les\np\u00e9rils, une fois les efforts vulgaires tent\u00e9s, leur premier pas \u00e9tait\nde se livrer au d\u00e9sespoir, de succomber sous lui et de mourir sans\ntourner leurs pens\u00e9es vers des voies de salut.\nJe lui r\u00e9pliquai que leur cas et le mien diff\u00e9raient extr\u00eamement;\nqu\u2019ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9s sur le rivage priv\u00e9s de toutes choses\nn\u00e9cessaires, et sans provisions pour subsister jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils\npussent se pourvoir; qu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 j\u2019avais eu ce d\u00e9savantage et\ncette affliction d\u2019\u00eatre seul, mais que les secours providentiellement\njet\u00e9s dans mes mains par le bris inopin\u00e9 du navire, \u00e9taient un si\ngrand r\u00e9confort, qu\u2019il aurait pouss\u00e9 tout homme au monde \u00e0 s\u2019ing\u00e9nier\ncomme je l\u2019avais fait.\u2014\u00abSe\u00f1or, reprit l\u2019Espagnol, si nous, pauvres\nCastillans, eussions \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 votre place, nous n\u2019eussions pas tir\u00e9\ndu vaisseau la moiti\u00e9 de ces choses que vous s\u00fbtes en tirer;\njamais nous n\u2019aurions trouv\u00e9 le moyen de nous procurer un radeau\npour les transporter, ni de conduire un radeau \u00e0 terre sans l\u2019aide\nd\u2019une chaloupe ou d\u2019une voile; et \u00e0 plus forte raison pas un de\nnous ne l\u2019e\u00fbt fait s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 seul.\u00bb\u2014Je le priai de faire tr\u00eave\n\u00e0 son compliment, et de poursuivre l\u2019histoire de leur venue dans\nl\u2019endroit o\u00f9 ils avaient abord\u00e9. Il me dit qu\u2019ils avaient pris\nterre malheureusement en un lieu o\u00f9 il y avait des habitants sans\nprovisions; tandis que s\u2019ils eussent eu le bon sens de se remettre\nen mer et d\u2019aller \u00e0 une autre \u00eele un peu plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e, ils auraient\ntrouv\u00e9 des provisions sans habitants. En effet, dans ces parages,\ncomme on le leur avait dit, \u00e9tait situ\u00e9e une \u00eele riche en comestibles,\nbien que d\u00e9serte, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que les Espagnols de la Trinit\u00e9,\nl\u2019ayant visit\u00e9e fr\u00e9quemment, l\u2019avaient remplie \u00e0 diff\u00e9rentes fois\nde ch\u00e8vres et de porcs. L\u00e0 ces animaux avaient multipli\u00e9 de telle\nsorte, l\u00e0 tortues et oiseaux de mer \u00e9taient en telle abondance, qu\u2019ils\nn\u2019eussent pas manqu\u00e9 de viande s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 priv\u00e9s de pain. A\nl\u2019endroit o\u00f9 ils avaient abord\u00e9, ils n\u2019avaient au contraire pour toute\nnourriture que quelques herbes et quelques racines \u00e0 eux inconnues,\nfort peu succulentes, et que leur donnaient avec assez de parcimonie\nles naturels, vraiment dans l\u2019impossibilit\u00e9 de les traiter mieux,\n\u00e0 moins qu\u2019ils ne se fissent cannibales et mangeassent de la chair\nhumaine, le grand r\u00e9gal du pays.\nNos Espagnols me racont\u00e8rent comment par divers moyens ils s\u2019\u00e9taient\nefforc\u00e9s, mais en vain, de civiliser les sauvages leurs h\u00f4tes, et\nde leur faire adopter des coutumes rationnelles dans le commerce\nordinaire de la vie; et comment ces Indiens, en r\u00e9criminant, leur\nr\u00e9pondaient qu\u2019il \u00e9tait injuste \u00e0 ceux qui \u00e9taient venus sur cette\nterre pour implorer aide et assistance, de vouloir se poser comme les\ninstructeurs de ceux qui les nourrissaient, donnant \u00e0 entendre par\nl\u00e0, ce semble, que celui-l\u00e0 ne doit point se faire l\u2019instructeur des\nautres qui ne peut se passer d\u2019eux pour vivre.\nIls me firent l\u2019affreux r\u00e9cit des extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s o\u00f9 ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nr\u00e9duits; comment ils avaient pass\u00e9 quelquefois plusieurs jours sans\nnourriture aucune, l\u2019\u00eele o\u00f9 ils se trouvaient \u00e9tant habit\u00e9e par une\nesp\u00e8ce de sauvages plus indolents, et, par cette raison, ils avaient\ntout lieu de le croire, moins pourvus des choses n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 la vie\nque les autres indig\u00e8nes de cette m\u00eame partie du monde. Toutefois ils\nreconnaissaient que cette peuplade \u00e9tait moins rapace et moins vorace\nque celles qui avaient une meilleure et une plus abondante nourriture.\nIls ajout\u00e8rent aussi qu\u2019ils ne pouvaient se refuser \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre avec\nquelles marques de sagesse et de bont\u00e9 la souveraine providence de\nDieu dirige la marche des choses de ce monde; marques, disaient-ils,\n\u00e9clatantes \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard; car, si pouss\u00e9s par la duret\u00e9 de leur\nposition et par la st\u00e9rilit\u00e9 du pays o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient, ils eussent\ncherch\u00e9 un lieu meilleur pour y vivre, ils se seraient trouv\u00e9s en\ndehors de la voie de salut qui, par mon interm\u00e9diaire, leur avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nouverte.\nEnsuite ils me racont\u00e8rent que les sauvages leurs h\u00f4tes avaient fait\nfond sur eux pour les accompagner dans leurs guerres. Et par le fait,\ncomme ils avaient des armes \u00e0 feu, s\u2019ils n\u2019eussent pas eu le malheur\nde perdre leurs munitions, ils eussent pu non seulement \u00eatre utiles\n\u00e0 leurs amis, mais encore se rendre redoutables et \u00e0 leurs amis et\n\u00e0 leurs ennemis. Or, n\u2019ayant ni poudre ni plomb, et se voyant dans\nune condition qui ne leur permettait pas de refuser de suivre leurs\nlandlords \u00e0 la guerre, ils se trouvaient sur le champ de bataille\ndans une position pire que celle des sauvages eux-m\u00eames; car ils\nn\u2019avaient ni fl\u00e8ches ni arcs, ou ne savaient se servir de ceux que les\nsauvages leur avaient donn\u00e9s. Ils ne pouvaient donc faire autre chose\nque rester cois, expos\u00e9s aux fl\u00e8ches, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019on f\u00fbt arriv\u00e9\ntout proche de l\u2019ennemi. Alors trois hallebardes qu\u2019ils avaient leur\n\u00e9taient de quelque usage, et souvent ils balayaient devant eux toute\nune petite arm\u00e9e avec ces hallebardes et des b\u00e2tons pointus fich\u00e9s\ndans le canon de leurs mousquets. Maintes fois pourtant ils avaient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 entour\u00e9s par des multitudes, et en grand danger de tomber sous\nleurs traits. Mais enfin ils avaient imagin\u00e9 de se faire de grandes\ntarges de bois, qu\u2019ils avaient couvertes de peaux de b\u00eates sauvages\ndont ils ne savaient pas le nom. Nonobstant ces boucliers, qui les\npr\u00e9servaient des fl\u00e8ches des Indiens, ils essuyaient quelquefois de\ngrands p\u00e9rils. Un jour surtout, cinq d\u2019entre eux furent terrass\u00e9s\nensemble par les casse-t\u00eate des sauvages; et c\u2019est alors qu\u2019un des\nleurs fut fait prisonnier, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire l\u2019Espagnol que j\u2019arrachai \u00e0\nla mort. Ils crurent d\u2019abord qu\u2019il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9; mais ensuite, quand\nils apprirent qu\u2019il \u00e9tait captif, ils tomb\u00e8rent dans la plus profonde\ndouleur imaginable, et auraient volontiers tous expos\u00e9 leur vie pour\nle d\u00e9livrer.\nLorsque ceux-ci eurent \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi terrass\u00e9s, les autres les secoururent\net combattirent en les entourant jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils fussent tous\nrevenus \u00e0 eux-m\u00eames, hormis celui qu\u2019on croyait mort; puis tous\nensemble, serr\u00e9s sur une ligne, ils se firent jour avec leurs\nhallebardes et leurs ba\u00efonnettes \u00e0 travers un corps de plus de mille\nsauvages, abattirent tout ce qui se trouvait sur leur chemin et\nremport\u00e8rent la victoire; mais \u00e0 leur grand regret, parce qu\u2019elle leur\navait co\u00fbt\u00e9 la perte de leur compagnon, que le parti ennemi, qui le\ntrouva vivant, avait emport\u00e9 avec quelques autres, comme je l\u2019ai cont\u00e9\ndans la premi\u00e8re portion de ma vie.\nIls me d\u00e9peignirent de la mani\u00e8re la plus touchante quelle avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nleur surprise de joie au retour de leur ami et compagnon de mis\u00e8re,\nqu\u2019ils avaient cru d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces de la pire esp\u00e8ce,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire par des hommes sauvages, et comment de plus en plus\ncette surprise s\u2019\u00e9tait augment\u00e9e au r\u00e9cit qu\u2019il leur avait fait de\nson message, et de l\u2019existence d\u2019un chr\u00e9tien sur une terre voisine,\nqui plus est, d\u2019un chr\u00e9tien ayant assez de pouvoir et d\u2019humanit\u00e9 pour\ncontribuer \u00e0 leur d\u00e9livrance.\nIls me d\u00e9peignirent encore leur \u00e9tonnement \u00e0 la vue du secours que je\nleur avais envoy\u00e9, et surtout \u00e0 l\u2019aspect des miches de pain, choses\nqu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient pas vues depuis leur arriv\u00e9e dans ce mis\u00e9rable lieu,\ndisant que nombre de fois ils les avaient couvertes de signes de\ncroix et de b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions, comme un aliment descendu du ciel; et, en\ny go\u00fbtant, quel cordial revivifiant \u00e7\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pour leurs esprits,\nainsi que tout ce que j\u2019avais envoy\u00e9 pour leur r\u00e9confort.\nIls auraient bien voulu me faire conna\u00eetre quelque chose de la\njoie dont ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 transport\u00e9s \u00e0 la vue de la barque et des\npilotes destin\u00e9s \u00e0 les conduire vers la personne et au lieu d\u2019o\u00f9\nleur venaient tous ces secours; mais ils m\u2019assur\u00e8rent qu\u2019il \u00e9tait\nimpossible de l\u2019exprimer par des mots; que l\u2019exc\u00e8s de leur joie les\navait pouss\u00e9s \u00e0 de mess\u00e9antes extravagances qu\u2019il ne leur \u00e9tait\nloisible de d\u00e9crire qu\u2019en me disant qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient vus sur le point\nde tomber en fr\u00e9n\u00e9sie, ne pouvant donner un libre cours aux \u00e9motions\nqui les agitaient; bref, que ce saisissement avait agi sur celui-ci\nde telle mani\u00e8re, sur celui-l\u00e0 de telle autre, que les uns avaient\nvers\u00e9 des torrents de larmes, que les autres avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 moiti\u00e9\nfous, et que quelques-uns s\u2019\u00e9taient imm\u00e9diatement \u00e9vanouis.\u2014Cette\npeinture me toucha extr\u00eamement, et me rappela l\u2019extase de Vendredi\nquand il retrouva son p\u00e8re, les transports des pauvres Fran\u00e7ais quand\nje les recueillis en mer, apr\u00e8s l\u2019incendie de leur navire, la joie du\ncapitaine quand il se vit d\u00e9livr\u00e9 dans le lieu m\u00eame o\u00f9 il s\u2019attendait\n\u00e0 p\u00e9rir, et ma propre joie quand, apr\u00e8s vingt-huit ans de captivit\u00e9,\nje vis un bon vaisseau pr\u00eat \u00e0 me conduire dans ma patrie. Tous ces\nsouvenirs me rendirent plus sensible au r\u00e9cit de ces pauvres gens et\nfirent que je m\u2019en affectai d\u2019autant plus.\nAyant ainsi donn\u00e9 un aper\u00e7u de l\u2019\u00e9tat des choses telles que je les\ntrouvai, il convient que je relate ce que je fis d\u2019important pour\nnos colons, et dans quelle situation je les laissai. Leur opinion\net la mienne \u00e9taient qu\u2019ils ne seraient plus inqui\u00e9t\u00e9s par les\nsauvages, ou que, s\u2019ils venaient \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eatre, ils \u00e9taient en \u00e9tat de les\nrepousser, fussent-ils deux fois plus nombreux qu\u2019auparavant, de sorte\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient fort tranquilles sur ce point.\u2014En ce temps-l\u00e0, avec\nl\u2019Espagnol, que j\u2019ai surnomm\u00e9 gouverneur, j\u2019eus un s\u00e9rieux entretien\nsur leur s\u00e9jour dans l\u2019\u00eele; car, n\u2019\u00e9tant pas venu pour emmener aucun\nd\u2019entre eux, il n\u2019e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 juste d\u2019en emmener quelques-uns et de\nlaisser les autres, qui peut-\u00eatre ne seraient pas rest\u00e9s volontiers,\nsi leurs forces eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 diminu\u00e9es.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, je leur d\u00e9clarai que j\u2019\u00e9tais venu pour les \u00e9tablir\nen ce lieu et non pour les en d\u00e9loger; puis je leur fis conna\u00eetre\nque j\u2019avais apport\u00e9 pour eux des secours de toute sorte; que j\u2019avais\nfait de grandes d\u00e9penses, afin de les pourvoir de toutes les choses\nn\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 leur bien-\u00eatre et \u00e0 leur s\u00fbret\u00e9, et que je leur amenais\ntelles et telles personnes, non seulement pour augmenter et renforcer\nleur nombre, mais encore pour les aider, gr\u00e2ce aux divers m\u00e9tiers\nutiles qu\u2019elles avaient appris, \u00e0 se procurer tout ce dont ils\nmanquaient encore.\nIls \u00e9taient tous ensemble quand je leur parlai ainsi. Avant de leur\nlivrer les provisions que j\u2019avais apport\u00e9es, je leur demandai, un\npar un, s\u2019ils avaient enti\u00e8rement \u00e9touff\u00e9 et oubli\u00e9 les inimiti\u00e9s\nqui avaient r\u00e9gn\u00e9 parmi eux, s\u2019ils voulaient se serrer la main et se\njurer une mutuelle affection et une \u00e9troite union d\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eats, que ne\nd\u00e9truiraient plus ni m\u00e9sintelligences ni jalousies.\nWilliam Atkins, avec beaucoup de franchise et de bonne humeur,\nr\u00e9pondit qu\u2019ils avaient assez essuy\u00e9 d\u2019afflictions pour devenir tous\nsages, et rencontr\u00e9 assez d\u2019ennemis pour devenir tous amis; que, pour\nsa part, il voulait vivre et mourir avec les autres; que bien loin\nde former de mauvais desseins contre les Espagnols, il reconnaissait\nqu\u2019ils ne lui avaient rien fait que son mauvais caract\u00e8re n\u2019e\u00fbt\nrendu n\u00e9cessaire et qu\u2019\u00e0 leur place il n\u2019e\u00fbt fait, s\u2019il n\u2019avait\nfait pis; qu\u2019il leur demanderait pardon si je le souhaitais, de ses\nimpertinences et de ses brutalit\u00e9s \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard; qu\u2019il avait la\nvolont\u00e9 et le d\u00e9sir de vivre avec eux dans les termes d\u2019une amiti\u00e9\net d\u2019une union parfaites, et qu\u2019il ferait tout ce qui serait en son\npouvoir pour les en convaincre. Enfin, quant \u00e0 l\u2019Angleterre, qu\u2019il lui\nimportait peu de ne pas y aller de vingt ann\u00e9es.\nLes Espagnols r\u00e9pondirent qu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, dans le commencement, ils\navaient d\u00e9sarm\u00e9 et exclu William Atkins et ses deux camarades, \u00e0 cause\nde leur mauvaise conduite, comme ils me l\u2019avaient fait conna\u00eetre, et\nqu\u2019ils en appelaient tous \u00e0 moi de la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 o\u00f9 ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nd\u2019en agir ainsi; mais que William Atkins s\u2019\u00e9tait conduit avec tant\nde bravoure dans le grand combat livr\u00e9 aux sauvages et depuis dans\nquantit\u00e9 d\u2019occasions, et s\u2019\u00e9tait montr\u00e9 si fid\u00e8le et si d\u00e9vou\u00e9 aux\nint\u00e9r\u00eats g\u00e9n\u00e9raux de la colonie, qu\u2019ils avaient oubli\u00e9 tout le pass\u00e9,\net pensaient qu\u2019il m\u00e9ritait autant qu\u2019aucun d\u2019eux qu\u2019on lui confi\u00e2t\ndes armes et qu\u2019on le pourv\u00fbt de toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires; qu\u2019en lui\nd\u00e9f\u00e9rant le commandement apr\u00e8s le gouverneur lui-m\u00eame, ils avaient\nt\u00e9moign\u00e9 de la foi qu\u2019ils avaient en lui; que s\u2019ils avaient eu foi\nenti\u00e8re en lui et en ses compatriotes, ils reconnaissaient aussi\nqu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient montr\u00e9s dignes de cette foi par tout ce qui peut\nappeler sur un honn\u00eate homme l\u2019estime et la confiance; bref, qu\u2019ils\nsaisissaient de tout c\u0153ur cette occasion de me donner cette assurance\nqu\u2019ils n\u2019auraient jamais d\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat qui ne f\u00fbt celui de tous.\nD\u2019apr\u00e8s ces franches et ouvertes d\u00e9clarations d\u2019amiti\u00e9, nous fix\u00e2mes\nle jour suivant pour d\u00eener tous ensemble, et nous f\u00eemes, d\u2019honneur,\nun splendide festin. Je priai le ma\u00eetre coq du navire et son aide de\nvenir \u00e0 terre pour dresser le repas, et l\u2019ancien cuisinier en second\nque nous avions dans l\u2019\u00eele les assista. On tira les provisions du\nvaisseau: six pi\u00e8ces de bon b\u0153uf, quatre pi\u00e8ces de porc et notre _bowl\n\u00e0 punch_, avec les ingr\u00e9dients pour en faire; et je leur donnai, en\nparticulier, dix bouteilles de vin clairet de France et dix bouteilles\nde bi\u00e8re anglaise, choses dont ni les Espagnols ni les Anglais\nn\u2019avaient go\u00fbt\u00e9 depuis bien des ann\u00e9es, et dont, cela est croyable,\nils furent on ne peut plus ravis.\n[Illustration: Nous f\u00eemes un splendide festin.]\nLes Espagnols ajout\u00e8rent \u00e0 notre festin cinq chevreaux entiers que les\ncuisiniers firent r\u00f4tir, et dont trois furent envoy\u00e9s bien couverts\n\u00e0 bord du navire, afin que l\u2019\u00e9quipage se p\u00fbt r\u00e9galer de notre viande\nfra\u00eeche, comme nous le faisions \u00e0 terre de leur salaison.\nApr\u00e8s ce banquet, o\u00f9 brilla une innocente gaiet\u00e9, je fis \u00e9taler ma\ncargaison d\u2019effets; et, pour \u00e9viter toute dispute sur la r\u00e9partition,\nje leur montrai qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait suffisante pour eux tous, et leur\nenjoignis \u00e0 tous de prendre une quantit\u00e9 \u00e9gale des choses \u00e0 l\u2019usage\ndu corps, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e9gale apr\u00e8s confection. Je distribuai d\u2019abord\nassez de toile pour faire \u00e0 chacun quatre chemises; mais plus tard, \u00e0\nla requ\u00eate des Espagnols, je portai ce nombre \u00e0 six. Ce linge leur fut\nextr\u00eamement confortable; car, pour ainsi dire, ils en avaient depuis\nlongtemps oubli\u00e9 l\u2019usage, ou ce que c\u2019\u00e9tait que d\u2019en porter.\nJe distribuai les minces \u00e9toffes anglaises dont j\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 parl\u00e9, pour\nfaire \u00e0 chacun un l\u00e9ger v\u00eatement, en mani\u00e8re de blouse, costume frais\net peu g\u00eanant, que je jugeai le plus convenable \u00e0 cause de la chaleur\nde la saison, et j\u2019ordonnai que toutes et quantes fois ils seraient\nus\u00e9s, on leur en fit d\u2019autres, comme bon semblerait. Je r\u00e9partis de\nm\u00eame escarpins, souliers, bas et chapeaux.\nJe ne saurais exprimer le plaisir et la satisfaction qui \u00e9clataient\ndans l\u2019air de tous ces pauvres gens quand ils virent quel soin j\u2019avais\npris d\u2019eux et combien largement je les avais pourvus. Ils me dirent\nque j\u2019\u00e9tais leur p\u00e8re, et que d\u2019avoir un correspondant tel que moi\ndans une partie du monde si lointaine, cela leur ferait oublier\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient d\u00e9laiss\u00e9s sur une terre d\u00e9serte. Et tous envers moi\nprirent volontiers l\u2019engagement de ne pas quitter la place sans mon\nconsentement.\nAlors je leur pr\u00e9sentai les gens que j\u2019avais amen\u00e9s avec moi,\nsp\u00e9cialement le tailleur, le forgeron et les deux charpentiers,\npersonnages fort n\u00e9cessaires; mais par-dessus tout mon artisan\nuniversel, lequel \u00e9tait plus utile pour eux qu\u2019aucune chose qu\u2019ils\neussent pu nommer. Le tailleur, pour leur montrer son bon vouloir,\nse mit imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage, et avec ma permission leur fit\n\u00e0 chacun premi\u00e8rement une chemise. Qui plus est, non seulement il\nenseigna aux femmes \u00e0 coudre, \u00e0 piquer, \u00e0 manier l\u2019aiguille, mais il\ns\u2019en fit aider pour faire les chemises de leurs maris et de tous les\nautres.\n[Illustration: Le tailleur se mit imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrage...]\nQuant aux charpentiers, je ne m\u2019appesantirai pas sur leur utilit\u00e9:\nils d\u00e9mont\u00e8rent tous mes meubles grossiers et mal b\u00e2tis, et en firent\npromptement des tables convenables, des escabeaux, des ch\u00e2lits, des\nbuffets, des armoires, des tablettes, et autres choses semblables dont\non manquait.\nOr, pour leur montrer comment la nature fait des ouvriers\nspontan\u00e9ment, je les menai voir la maison-corbeille de William Atkins,\ncomme je la nommais; et ils m\u2019avou\u00e8rent l\u2019un et l\u2019autre qu\u2019ils\nn\u2019avaient jamais vu un pareil exemple d\u2019industrie naturelle, ni rien\nde si r\u00e9gulier et de si habilement construit, du moins en ce genre.\nA son aspect, l\u2019un d\u2019eux, apr\u00e8s avoir song\u00e9 quelque temps, se tourna\nvers moi et dit:\u2014\u00abJe suis convaincu que cet homme n\u2019a pas besoin de\nnous: donnez-lui seulement des outils.\u00bb\nJe fis ensuite d\u00e9barquer toute ma provision d\u2019instruments, et je\ndonnai \u00e0 chaque homme une b\u00eache, une pelle et un r\u00e2teau, \u00e0 d\u00e9faut de\nherses et de charrues; puis, pour chaque \u00e9tablissement s\u00e9par\u00e9, une\npioche, une pince, une doloire et une scie, statuant toujours que\ntoutes et quantes fois quelqu\u2019un de ces outils serait rompu ou us\u00e9, on\ny suppl\u00e9erait sans difficult\u00e9 au magasin g\u00e9n\u00e9ral que je laisserais en\nr\u00e9serve.\nPour des clous, des g\u00e2ches, des gonds, des marteaux, des gouges,\ndes couteaux, des ciseaux et des ustensiles et des ferrures de\ntoutes sortes, nos hommes en eurent sans compter, selon ce qu\u2019ils\ndemandaient, car aucun ne se f\u00fbt souci\u00e9 d\u2019en prendre au del\u00e0 de ses\nbesoins: bien fou e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 celui qui les aurait gaspill\u00e9s ou g\u00e2t\u00e9s\npour quelque raison que ce f\u00fbt. A l\u2019usage du forgeron, et pour son\napprovisionnement, je laissai deux tonnes de fer brut.\nLe magasin de poudre et d\u2019armes que je leur apportais allait jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nla profusion, ce dont ils furent n\u00e9cessairement fort aises. Ils\npouvaient alors, comme j\u2019avais eu coutume de le faire, marcher avec un\nmousquet sur chaque \u00e9paule, si besoin \u00e9tait, et combattre un millier\nde sauvages, n\u2019auraient-ils eu qu\u2019un faible avantage de position,\ncirconstance qui ne pouvait leur manquer dans l\u2019occasion.\nJ\u2019avais amen\u00e9 \u00e0 terre avec moi le jeune homme dont la m\u00e8re \u00e9tait morte\nde faim, et la servante aussi, jeune fille modeste, bien \u00e9lev\u00e9e,\npieuse, et d\u2019une conduite si pleine de candeur, que chacun avait\npour elle une bonne parole. Parmi nous elle avait eu une vie fort\nmalheureuse \u00e0 bord, o\u00f9 pas d\u2019autre femme qu\u2019elle ne se trouvait;\nmais elle l\u2019avait support\u00e9e avec patience.\u2014Apr\u00e8s un court s\u00e9jour\ndans l\u2019\u00eele, voyant toutes choses si bien ordonn\u00e9es et en si bon\ntrain de prosp\u00e9rer, et consid\u00e9rant qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient ni affaires ni\nconnaissances dans les Indes Orientales, ni motif pour entreprendre un\nsi long voyage; consid\u00e9rant tout cela, dis-je, ils vinrent ensemble me\ntrouver, et me demand\u00e8rent que je leur permisse de rester dans l\u2019\u00eele\net d\u2019entrer dans ma famille, comme ils disaient.\nJ\u2019y consentis de tout c\u0153ur, et on leur assigna une petite pi\u00e8ce de\nterre, o\u00f9 on leur \u00e9leva trois tentes ou maisons, entour\u00e9es d\u2019un\nclayonnage, palissad\u00e9es comme celle d\u2019Atkins et contigu\u00ebs \u00e0 sa\nplantation. Ces huttes furent dispos\u00e9es de telle fa\u00e7on, qu\u2019ils avaient\nchacun une chambre \u00e0 part pour se loger, et un pavillon mitoyen, ou\nesp\u00e8ce de magasin, pour d\u00e9poser tous leurs effets et prendre leurs\nrepas. Les deux autres Anglais transport\u00e8rent alors leur habitation\n\u00e0 la m\u00eame place, et ainsi l\u2019\u00eele demeura divis\u00e9e en trois colonies,\npas davantage. Les Espagnols, avec le vieux Vendredi et les premiers\nserviteurs, logeaient \u00e0 mon ancien manoir au pied de la colline,\nlequel \u00e9tait, pour ainsi parler, la cit\u00e9 capitale, et o\u00f9 ils avaient\ntellement augment\u00e9 et \u00e9tendu leurs travaux, tant dans l\u2019int\u00e9rieur qu\u2019\u00e0\nl\u2019ext\u00e9rieur de la colline, que, bien que parfaitement cach\u00e9s, ils\nhabitaient fort au large. Jamais, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, dans aucune partie du\nmonde, on ne vit une pareille petite cit\u00e9, au milieu d\u2019un bois, et si\nsecr\u00e8te.\nSur l\u2019honneur, mille hommes, s\u2019ils n\u2019eussent su qu\u2019elle exist\u00e2t ou ne\nl\u2019eussent cherch\u00e9e \u00e0 dessein, auraient pu sans la trouver battre l\u2019\u00eele\npendant un mois: car les arbres avaient cr\u00fb si \u00e9pais et si serr\u00e9s,\net s\u2019\u00e9taient tellement entrelac\u00e9s les uns dans les autres, que pour\nd\u00e9couvrir la place il e\u00fbt fallu d\u2019abord les abattre, \u00e0 moins qu\u2019on\nn\u2019e\u00fbt trouv\u00e9 les deux petits passages servant d\u2019entr\u00e9e et d\u2019issue,\nce qui n\u2019\u00e9tait pas fort ais\u00e9. L\u2019un \u00e9tait juste au bord de l\u2019eau, sur\nla rive de la crique, et \u00e0 plus de deux cents verges du ch\u00e2teau;\nl\u2019autre se trouvait au haut de la double escalade, que j\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0\nexactement d\u00e9crite. Sur le sommet de la colline il y avait aussi un\ngros bois, plant\u00e9 serr\u00e9, de plus d\u2019un acre d\u2019\u00e9tendue, lequel avait cr\u00fb\npromptement, et garantissait la place de toute atteinte de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, o\u00f9\nl\u2019on ne pouvait p\u00e9n\u00e9trer que par une ouverture \u00e9troite r\u00e9serv\u00e9e entre\ndeux arbres, et peu facile \u00e0 d\u00e9couvrir.\nL\u2019autre colonie \u00e9tait celle de William Atkins, o\u00f9 se trouvaient quatre\nfamilles anglaises, je veux dire les Anglais que j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9s\ndans l\u2019\u00eele, leurs femmes, leurs enfants, trois sauvages esclaves, la\nveuve et les enfants de celui qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9, le jeune homme et la\nservante, dont, par parenth\u00e8se, je c\u00e9l\u00e9brai le mariage avant notre\nd\u00e9part. L\u00e0 habitaient aussi les deux charpentiers et le tailleur que\nje leur avais amen\u00e9s, ainsi que le forgeron, artisan fort utile,\nsurtout comme arquebusier, pour prendre soin de leurs armes; enfin,\nmon autre homme, que j\u2019appelais \u00abJack-bon-\u00e0-tout\u00bb, et qui \u00e0 lui seul\nvalait presque vingt hommes; car c\u2019\u00e9tait non seulement un gar\u00e7on fort\ning\u00e9nieux, mais encore un joyeux compagnon. Avant de partir, nous le\nmari\u00e2mes \u00e0 l\u2019honn\u00eate servante venue avec le jeune homme \u00e0 bord du\nnavire, ce dont j\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait mention.\nMaintenant que j\u2019en suis arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 parler de mariage, je me vois\nnaturellement entra\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0 dire quelques mots de l\u2019eccl\u00e9siastique\nfran\u00e7ais qui, pour me suivre, avait quitt\u00e9 l\u2019\u00e9quipage que je\nrecueillis en mer. Cet homme, cela est vrai, \u00e9tait catholique romain\net peut-\u00eatre choquerais-je par l\u00e0 quelques personnes si je ne\nrapportais rien d\u2019extraordinaire au sujet d\u2019un personnage que je dois,\navant de commencer,\u2014pour le d\u00e9peindre fid\u00e8lement,\u2014en des termes fort\n\u00e0 son d\u00e9savantage aux yeux des protestants,\u2014repr\u00e9senter d\u2019abord comme\npapiste, secondement comme pr\u00eatre papiste, et troisi\u00e8mement comme\npr\u00eatre papiste fran\u00e7ais.\nMais la justice exige de moi que je lui donne son vrai caract\u00e8re,\net je dirai donc que c\u2019\u00e9tait un homme grave, sobre, pieux, plein\nde ferveur, d\u2019une vie r\u00e9guli\u00e8re, d\u2019une ardente charit\u00e9, et presque\nen toutes choses d\u2019une conduite exemplaire. Qui pourrait me bl\u00e2mer\nd\u2019appr\u00e9cier, nonobstant sa communion, la valeur d\u2019un tel homme,\nquoique mon opinion soit peut-\u00eatre, ainsi que l\u2019opinion de ceux qui\nliront ceci, qu\u2019il \u00e9tait dans l\u2019erreur?\nTout d\u2019abord que je m\u2019entretins avec lui, apr\u00e8s qu\u2019il eut consenti\n\u00e0 aller avec moi aux Indes Orientales, je trouvai, non sans raison,\nun charme extr\u00eame dans sa conversation. Ce fut de la mani\u00e8re la plus\nobligeante qu\u2019il entama notre premi\u00e8re causerie sur la religion.\n\u2014\u00abSir, dit-il, non seulement, gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu,\u2014\u00e0 ce nom il se signa la\npoitrine,\u2014vous m\u2019avez sauv\u00e9 la vie, mais vous m\u2019avez admis \u00e0 faire ce\nvoyage dans votre navire, et par votre civilit\u00e9 pleine de d\u00e9f\u00e9rence\nvous m\u2019avez re\u00e7u dans votre familiarit\u00e9, en donnant champ libre \u00e0 mes\ndiscours. Or, sir, vous voyez \u00e0 mon v\u00eatement quelle est ma communion,\net je devine, moi, par votre nation, quelle est la v\u00f4tre. Je puis\npenser qu\u2019il est de mon devoir, et cela n\u2019est pas douteux, d\u2019employer\ntous mes efforts, en toute occasion, pour amener le plus d\u2019\u00e2mes que\nje puis et \u00e0 la connaissance de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 et \u00e0 embrasser la doctrine\ncatholique; mais, comme je suis ici sous votre bon vouloir et dans\nvotre famille, vos amiti\u00e9s m\u2019obligent, aussi bien que la d\u00e9cence et\nles convenances, \u00e0 me ranger sous votre ob\u00e9issance. Je n\u2019entrerai\ndonc pas plus avant que vous ne m\u2019y autoriserez dans aucun d\u00e9bat sur\ndes points de religion touchant lesquels nous pourrions diff\u00e9rer de\nsentiments.\u00bb\nJe lui dis que sa conduite \u00e9tait si pleine de modestie, que je ne\npouvais ne pas en \u00eatre p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9; qu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 nous \u00e9tions de ces\ngens qu\u2019ils appelaient h\u00e9r\u00e9tiques, mais qu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas le premier\ncatholique avec lequel j\u2019eusse convers\u00e9 sans tomber dans quelques\ndifficult\u00e9s ou sans porter la question un peu haut dans le d\u00e9bat;\nqu\u2019il ne s\u2019en trouverait pas plus mal trait\u00e9 pour avoir une autre\nopinion que nous, et que si nous ne nous entretenions pas sur cette\nmati\u00e8re sans quelque aigreur d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 ou de l\u2019autre, ce serait sa\nfaute et non la n\u00f4tre.\nIl r\u00e9pliqua qu\u2019il lui semblait facile d\u2019\u00e9loigner toute dispute de\nnos entretiens; que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait point son affaire de convertir les\nprincipes de chaque homme avec qui il discourait, et qu\u2019il d\u00e9sirait\nconverser avec moi plut\u00f4t en homme du monde qu\u2019en religieux; que si\nje voulais lui permettre de discourir quelquefois sur des sujets de\nreligion, il le ferait tr\u00e8s volontiers; qu\u2019alors il ne doutait point\nque je ne le laissasse d\u00e9fendre ses propres opinions aussi bien qu\u2019il\nle pourrait, mais que sans mon agr\u00e9ment il n\u2019ouvrirait jamais la\nbouche sur pareille mati\u00e8re.\nIl me dit encore que, pour le bien du navire et le salut de tout ce\nqui s\u2019y trouvait, il ne cesserait de faire tout ce qui convenait \u00e0\nsa double mission de pr\u00eatre et de chr\u00e9tien; et que, bien que nous ne\nvoulussions pas peut-\u00eatre nous r\u00e9unir \u00e0 lui, et qu\u2019il ne p\u00fbt joindre\nses pri\u00e8res aux n\u00f4tres, il esp\u00e9rait pouvoir prier pour nous, ce qu\u2019il\nferait en toute occasion. Telle \u00e9tait l\u2019allure de nos conversations;\net, de m\u00eame qu\u2019il \u00e9tait d\u2019une conduite obligeante et noble, il \u00e9tait,\ns\u2019il peut m\u2019\u00eatre permis de le dire, homme de bon sens et, je crois,\nd\u2019un grand savoir.\nIl me fit un fort agr\u00e9able r\u00e9cit de sa vie et des \u00e9v\u00e9nements\nextraordinaires dont elle \u00e9tait sem\u00e9e. Parmi les nombreuses aventures\nqui lui \u00e9taient advenues depuis le peu d\u2019ann\u00e9es qu\u2019il courait le\nmonde, celle-ci \u00e9tait surtout tr\u00e8s remarquable. Durant le voyage\nqu\u2019il poursuivait encore, il avait eu la disgr\u00e2ce d\u2019\u00eatre embarqu\u00e9\net d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 cinq fois, sans que jamais aucun des vaisseaux o\u00f9 il se\ntrouvait f\u00fbt parvenu \u00e0 sa destination. Son premier dessein \u00e9tait\nd\u2019aller \u00e0 la Martinique, et il avait pris passage \u00e0 Saint-Malo sur un\nnavire charg\u00e9 pour cette \u00eele; mais, contraint par le mauvais temps de\nfaire rel\u00e2che \u00e0 Lisbonne, le b\u00e2timent avait \u00e9prouv\u00e9 quelque avarie\nen \u00e9chouant dans l\u2019embouchure du Tage, et on avait \u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9 de\nd\u00e9charger sa cargaison. L\u00e0, trouvant un vaisseau portugais nolis\u00e9 pour\nMad\u00e8re pr\u00eat \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 la voile, et supposant rencontrer facilement\ndans ces parages un navire destin\u00e9 pour la Martinique, il s\u2019\u00e9tait donc\nrembarqu\u00e9. Mais le capitaine de ce b\u00e2timent portugais, lequel \u00e9tait un\nmarin n\u00e9gligent, s\u2019\u00e9tant tromp\u00e9 dans son estime, avait d\u00e9riv\u00e9 jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nFayal, o\u00f9 toutefois il avait eu la chance de trouver un excellent\nd\u00e9bit de son chargement, qui consistait en grains. En cons\u00e9quence,\nil avait r\u00e9solu de ne point aller \u00e0 Mad\u00e8re, mais de charger du sel \u00e0\nl\u2019\u00eele de May, et de faire route de l\u00e0 pour Terre-Neuve.\u2014Notre jeune\neccl\u00e9siastique dans cette occurrence n\u2019avait pu que suivre la fortune\ndu navire, et le voyage avait \u00e9t\u00e9 assez heureux jusqu\u2019aux Bancs,\u2014on\nappelle ainsi le lieu o\u00f9 se fait la p\u00eache. Ayant rencontr\u00e9 l\u00e0 un\nb\u00e2timent fran\u00e7ais parti de France pour Qu\u00e9bec, sur la rivi\u00e8re du\nCanada, puis devant porter des vivres \u00e0 la Martinique, il avait cru\ntenir une bonne occasion d\u2019accomplir son premier dessein; mais, arriv\u00e9\n\u00e0 Qu\u00e9bec, le capitaine \u00e9tait mort, et le vaisseau n\u2019avait pas pouss\u00e9\nplus loin. Il s\u2019\u00e9tait donc r\u00e9sign\u00e9 \u00e0 retourner en France sur le navire\nqui avait br\u00fbl\u00e9 en mer, et dont nous avions recueilli l\u2019\u00e9quipage, et\nfinalement il s\u2019\u00e9tait embarqu\u00e9 avec nous pour les Indes Orientales,\ncomme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit.\u2014C\u2019est ainsi qu\u2019il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9sappoint\u00e9 dans\ncinq voyages, qui tous, pour ainsi dire, n\u2019en \u00e9taient qu\u2019un seul: cela\nsoit dit sans pr\u00e9judice de ce que j\u2019aurai occasion de raconter de lui\npar la suite.\nMais je ne ferai point de digression sur les aventures d\u2019autrui\n\u00e9trang\u00e8res \u00e0 ma propre histoire.\u2014Je retourne \u00e0 ce qui concerne nos\naffaires de l\u2019\u00eele. Notre religieux,\u2014car il passa avec nous tout le\ntemps que nous s\u00e9journ\u00e2mes \u00e0 terre,\u2014vint me trouver un matin, comme je\nme disposais \u00e0 aller visiter la colonie des Anglais, dans la partie\nla plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e de l\u2019\u00eele; il vint \u00e0 moi, dis-je, et me d\u00e9clara d\u2019un\nair fort grave qu\u2019il aurait d\u00e9sir\u00e9 depuis deux ou trois jours trouver\nle moment opportun de me faire une ouverture qui, esp\u00e9rait-il, ne\nme serait point d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able, parce qu\u2019elle lui semblait tendre sous\ncertains rapports \u00e0 mon dessein g\u00e9n\u00e9ral, le bonheur de ma nouvelle\ncolonie, et pouvoir sans doute la placer, au moins plus avant qu\u2019elle\nne l\u2019\u00e9tait selon lui, dans la voie des b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu.\nJe restai un peu surpris \u00e0 ces derni\u00e8res paroles; et, l\u2019interrompant\nassez brusquement:\u2014\u00abComment, sir, m\u2019\u00e9criai-je, peut-on dire que\nnous ne sommes pas dans la voie des b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu, apr\u00e8s\nl\u2019assistance si palpable et les d\u00e9livrances si merveilleuses que nous\navons vues ici, et dont je vous ai donn\u00e9 un long d\u00e9tail?\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abS\u2019il vous avait plu de m\u2019\u00e9couter, sir, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il avec beaucoup\nde mod\u00e9ration et cependant avec une grande vivacit\u00e9, vous n\u2019auriez pas\neu lieu d\u2019\u00eatre f\u00e2ch\u00e9, et encore moins de me croire assez d\u00e9nu\u00e9 de sens\npour insinuer que vous n\u2019avez pas eu d\u2019assistances et de d\u00e9livrances\nmiraculeuses. J\u2019esp\u00e8re, quant \u00e0 vous-m\u00eame, que vous \u00eates dans la voie\ndes b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu, et que votre dessein est bon, et qu\u2019il\nprosp\u00e9rera. Mais, sir, vos desseins fussent-ils encore meilleurs,\nau del\u00e0 m\u00eame de ce qui vous est possible, il peut y en avoir parmi\nvous dont les actions ne sont pas aussi irr\u00e9prochables; or, dans\nl\u2019histoire des enfants d\u2019Isra\u00ebl, qu\u2019il vous souvienne d\u2019Hachan, qui,\nlui seul, suffit dans le camp pour d\u00e9tourner la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu de\ntout le peuple et lui rendre son bras si redoutable, que trente-six\nd\u2019entre les H\u00e9breux, quoiqu\u2019ils n\u2019eussent point tremp\u00e9 dans le crime,\ndevinrent l\u2019objet de la vengeance c\u00e9leste, et port\u00e8rent le poids du\nch\u00e2timent.\u00bb\nJe lui dis, vivement touch\u00e9 de ce discours, que sa conclusion \u00e9tait\nsi juste, que ses intentions me paraissaient si sinc\u00e8res et qu\u2019elles\n\u00e9taient de leur nature r\u00e9ellement si religieuses, que j\u2019\u00e9tais fort\ncontrit de l\u2019avoir interrompu, et que je le suppliais de poursuivre.\nCependant, comme il semblait que ce que nous avions \u00e0 nous dire\nd\u00fbt prendre quelque temps, je l\u2019informai que j\u2019allais visiter la\nplantation des Anglais, et lui demandai s\u2019il voulait venir avec moi,\nque nous pourrions causer de cela chemin faisant. Il me r\u00e9pondit\nqu\u2019il m\u2019y accompagnerait d\u2019autant plus volontiers que c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0\nqu\u2019en partie s\u2019\u00e9tait pass\u00e9e la chose dont il d\u00e9sirait m\u2019entretenir.\nNous part\u00eemes donc, et je le pressai de s\u2019expliquer franchement et\nouvertement sur ce qu\u2019il avait \u00e0 me dire.\n[Illustration: Je le pressai de s\u2019expliquer franchement...]\n\u2014\u00abEh bien, sir, me dit-il, veuillez me permettre d\u2019\u00e9tablir quelques\npropositions comme base de ce que j\u2019ai \u00e0 dire, afin que nous ne\ndiff\u00e9rions pas sur les principes g\u00e9n\u00e9raux, quoique nous puissions \u00eatre\nd\u2019opinion diff\u00e9rente sur la pratique des d\u00e9tails. D\u2019abord, sir, malgr\u00e9\nque nous divergions sur quelques points de doctrine religieuse,\u2014et il\nest tr\u00e8s malheureux qu\u2019il en soit ainsi, surtout dans le cas pr\u00e9sent,\ncomme je le d\u00e9montrerai ensuite,\u2014il est cependant quelques principes\ng\u00e9n\u00e9raux sur lesquels nous sommes d\u2019accord: nomm\u00e9ment qu\u2019il y a un\nDieu, et que Dieu nous ayant donn\u00e9 des lois g\u00e9n\u00e9rales et fixes de\ndevoir et d\u2019ob\u00e9issance, nous ne devons pas volontairement et sciemment\nl\u2019offenser, soit en n\u00e9gligeant de faire ce qu\u2019il a command\u00e9, soit\nen faisant ce qu\u2019il a express\u00e9ment d\u00e9fendu. Quelles que soient nos\ndiff\u00e9rentes religions, ce principe g\u00e9n\u00e9ral est spontan\u00e9ment avou\u00e9 par\nnous tous, que la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu ne suit pas ordinairement une\npr\u00e9somptueuse transgression de sa loi.\n\u00abTout bon chr\u00e9tien devra donc mettre ses plus tendres soins \u00e0 emp\u00eacher\nque ceux qu\u2019il tient sous sa tutelle ne vivent dans un complet\noubli de Dieu et de ses commandements. Parce que vos hommes sont\nprotestants, quel que puisse \u00eatre d\u2019ailleurs mon sentiment, cela ne me\nd\u00e9charge pas de la sollicitude que je dois avoir de leurs \u00e2mes et des\nefforts qu\u2019il est de mon devoir de tenter, si le cas y \u00e9choit, pour\nles amener \u00e0 vivre \u00e0 la plus petite distance et dans la plus faible\ninimiti\u00e9 possibles de leur Cr\u00e9ateur, surtout si vous me permettez\nd\u2019entreprendre \u00e0 ce point sur vos attributions.\u00bb\nJe ne pouvais encore entrevoir son but; cependant je ne laissai pas\nd\u2019applaudir \u00e0 tout ce qu\u2019il avait dit. Je le remerciai de l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat\nsi grand qu\u2019il prenait \u00e0 nous, et je le priai de vouloir bien exposer\nles d\u00e9tails de ce qu\u2019il avait observ\u00e9, afin que je pusse, comme\nJosu\u00e9,\u2014pour continuer sa propre parabole,\u2014\u00e9loigner de nous la chose\nmaudite.\n\u2014\u00abEh bien! soit, me dit-il, je vais user de la libert\u00e9 que vous me\ndonnez.\u2014Il y a trois choses, lesquelles, si je ne me trompe, doivent\narr\u00eater ici vos efforts dans la voie des b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu, et que,\npour l\u2019amour de vous et des v\u00f4tres, je me r\u00e9jouirais de voir \u00e9cart\u00e9es.\nSir, j\u2019ai la persuasion que vous les reconna\u00eetrez comme moi d\u00e8s que je\nvous les aurai nomm\u00e9es, surtout quand je vous aurai convaincu qu\u2019on\npeut tr\u00e8s ais\u00e9ment, et \u00e0 votre plus grande satisfaction, rem\u00e9dier \u00e0\nchacune de ces choses.\u00bb\nEt l\u00e0-dessus il ne me permit pas de placer quelques mots polis, mais\nil continua:\u2014\u00abD\u2019abord, sir, dit-il, vous avez ici quatre Anglais qui\nsont all\u00e9s chercher des femmes chez les sauvages, en ont fait leurs\n\u00e9pouses, en ont eu plusieurs enfants, et cependant ne sont unis \u00e0\nelles selon aucune coutume \u00e9tablie et l\u00e9gale, comme le requi\u00e8rent les\nlois de Dieu et les lois des hommes; ce ne sont donc pas moins, devant\nles unes et les autres, que des adult\u00e8res, vivant dans l\u2019adult\u00e8re.\nA cela, sir, je sais que vous objecterez qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient ni clerc,\nni pr\u00eatre d\u2019aucune sorte ou d\u2019aucune communion pour accomplir la\nc\u00e9r\u00e9monie; ni plumes, ni encre, ni papier, pour dresser un contrat\nde mariage et y apposer r\u00e9ciproquement leur seing. Je sais encore,\nsir, ce que le gouverneur espagnol vous a dit, de l\u2019accord auquel il\nles obligea de souscrire quand ils prirent ces femmes, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\nqu\u2019ils les choisiraient d\u2019apr\u00e8s un mode consenti et les garderaient\ns\u00e9par\u00e9ment; ce qui, soit dit en passant, n\u2019a rien d\u2019un mariage, et\nn\u2019implique point l\u2019engagement des femmes comme \u00e9pouses: ce n\u2019est qu\u2019un\nmarch\u00e9 fait entre les hommes pour pr\u00e9venir les querelles entre eux.\n\u00abOr, sir, l\u2019essence du sacrement de mariage,\u2014il l\u2019appelait ainsi,\n\u00e9tant catholique romain,\u2014consiste non seulement dans le consentement\nmutuel des parties \u00e0 se prendre l\u2019une l\u2019autre pour mari et pour\n\u00e9pouse, mais encore dans l\u2019obligation formelle et l\u00e9gale renferm\u00e9e\ndans le contrat, laquelle force l\u2019homme et la femme de s\u2019avouer et\nde se reconna\u00eetre pour tels dans tous les temps; obligation imposant\n\u00e0 l\u2019homme de s\u2019abstenir de toute autre femme, de ne contracter aucun\nautre engagement tandis que celui-ci subsiste, et, dans toutes les\noccasions, autant que faire se peut, de pourvoir convenablement son\n\u00e9pouse et ses enfants; obligation qui, _mutatis mutandis_, soumet de\nson c\u00f4t\u00e9 la femme aux m\u00eames ou \u00e0 de semblables conditions.\n\u00abOr, sir, ces hommes peuvent, quand il leur plaira ou quand l\u2019occasion\ns\u2019en pr\u00e9sentera, abandonner ces femmes, d\u00e9savouer leurs enfants,\nles laisser p\u00e9rir, prendre d\u2019autres femmes et les \u00e9pouser du vivant\ndes premi\u00e8res.\u00bb\u2014Ici il ajouta, non sans quelque chaleur:\u2014\u00abComment,\nsir, Dieu est-il honor\u00e9 par cette libert\u00e9 illicite? et comment sa\nb\u00e9n\u00e9diction couronnera-t-elle vos efforts dans ce lieu, quoique bons\nen eux-m\u00eames, quoique honn\u00eates dans leur but; tandis que ces hommes,\nqui sont pr\u00e9sentement vos sujets, sous votre gouvernement et votre\ndomination absolus, sont autoris\u00e9s par vous \u00e0 vivre ouvertement dans\nl\u2019adult\u00e8re?\u00bb\nJe l\u2019avoue, je fus frapp\u00e9 de la chose, mais beaucoup plus encore\ndes arguments convaincants dont il l\u2019avait appuy\u00e9e; car il \u00e9tait\ncertainement vrai que, malgr\u00e9 qu\u2019ils n\u2019eussent point d\u2019eccl\u00e9siastique\nsur les lieux, cependant un contrat formel des deux parties, fait\npar-devant t\u00e9moins, confirm\u00e9 au moyen de quelque signe par lequel\nils se seraient tous reconnus engag\u00e9s, n\u2019e\u00fbt-il consist\u00e9 que dans la\nrupture d\u2019un f\u00e9tu, et qui e\u00fbt oblig\u00e9 les hommes \u00e0 avouer ces femmes\npour leurs \u00e9pouses en toute circonstance, \u00e0 ne les abandonner jamais,\nni elles ni leurs enfants, et les femmes \u00e0 en agir de m\u00eame \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9gard\nde leurs maris, e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 un mariage valide et l\u00e9gal \u00e0 la face de Dieu.\nEt c\u2019\u00e9tait une grande faute de ne l\u2019avoir pas fait.\nJe pensai pouvoir m\u2019en tirer avec mon jeune pr\u00eatre en lui disant\nque tout cela avait \u00e9t\u00e9 fait durant mon absence, et que depuis tant\nd\u2019ann\u00e9es ces gens vivaient ensemble, que, si c\u2019\u00e9tait un adult\u00e8re, il\n\u00e9tait sans rem\u00e8de; qu\u2019\u00e0 cette heure on n\u2019y pouvait rien.\n\u2014\u00abSir, en vous demandant pardon d\u2019une telle libert\u00e9, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il,\nvous avez raison en cela, que, la chose s\u2019\u00e9tant consomm\u00e9e en votre\nabsence, vous ne sauriez \u00eatre accus\u00e9 d\u2019avoir pr\u00eat\u00e9 la main \u00e0 cette\nimpi\u00e9t\u00e9. Mais, je vous en conjure, ne vous flattez pas d\u2019\u00eatre pour\ncela d\u00e9charg\u00e9 de l\u2019obligation de faire maintenant tout votre possible\npour y mettre fin. Qu\u2019on impute le pass\u00e9 \u00e0 qui l\u2019on voudra! Comment\npourriez-vous ne pas penser qu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019avenir cela retombera enti\u00e8rement\nsur vous, puisque aujourd\u2019hui il est certainement en votre pouvoir de\nmettre fin \u00e0 ce scandale, et que nul autre n\u2019a ce pouvoir que vous!\u00bb\nJe fus encore assez stupide pour ne pas le comprendre, et pour\nm\u2019imaginer que par \u00abmettre fin au scandale\u00bb, il entendait que je\ndevais les s\u00e9parer et ne pas souffrir qu\u2019ils v\u00e9cussent plus longtemps\nensemble. Aussi lui dis-je que c\u2019\u00e9tait chose que je ne pouvais faire\nen aucune fa\u00e7on, car ce serait vouloir mettre l\u2019\u00eele enti\u00e8re dans\nla confusion. Il parut surpris que je me fusse si grossi\u00e8rement\nm\u00e9pris.\u2014\u00abNon, sir, reprit-il, je n\u2019entends point que vous deviez les\ns\u00e9parer, mais bien au contraire les unir l\u00e9galement et efficacement.\nEt, sir, comme mon mode de mariage pourrait bien ne pas leur agr\u00e9er\nfacilement, tout valable qu\u2019il serait, m\u00eame d\u2019apr\u00e8s vos propres lois,\nje vous crois qualifi\u00e9 devant Dieu et devant les hommes pour vous en\nacquitter vous-m\u00eame par un contrat \u00e9crit, sign\u00e9 par les deux \u00e9poux\net par tous les t\u00e9moins pr\u00e9sents, lequel assur\u00e9ment serait d\u00e9clar\u00e9\nvalide par toutes les l\u00e9gislations de l\u2019Europe.\u00bb\nJe fus \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de lui trouver tant de vraie pi\u00e9t\u00e9, un z\u00e8le si sinc\u00e8re,\nqui plus est, dans ses discours une impartialit\u00e9 si peu commune\ntouchant son propre parti ou son \u00c9glise, enfin une si fervente\nsollicitude pour sauver des gens avec lesquels il n\u2019avait ni relation\nni accointance, pour les sauver, dis-je, de la transgression des\nlois de Dieu. Je n\u2019avais, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, rencontr\u00e9 nulle part rien de\nsemblable. Or, r\u00e9capitulant tout ce qu\u2019il avait dit touchant le moyen\nde les unir par contrat \u00e9crit, moyen que je tenais aussi pour valable,\nje revins \u00e0 la charge et je lui r\u00e9pondis que je reconnaissais que\ntout ce qu\u2019il avait dit \u00e9tait fort juste et tr\u00e8s bienveillant de sa\npart, que je m\u2019en entretiendrais avec ces gens tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure, d\u00e8s mon\narriv\u00e9e; mais que je ne voyais pas pour quelle raison ils auraient\ndes scrupules \u00e0 se laisser tous marier par lui, car je n\u2019ignorais pas\nque cette alliance serait reconnue aussi authentique et aussi valide\nen Angleterre que s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 mari\u00e9s par un de nos propres\nministres. Je dirai en son temps ce qui se fit \u00e0 ce sujet.\nJe le pressai alors de me dire quelle \u00e9tait la seconde plainte qu\u2019il\navait \u00e0 faire, en reconnaissant que je lui \u00e9tais fort redevable quant\n\u00e0 la premi\u00e8re, et je l\u2019en remerciai cordialement. Il me dit qu\u2019il\nuserait encore de la m\u00eame libert\u00e9 et de la m\u00eame franchise, et qu\u2019il\nesp\u00e9rait que je le prendrais aussi bien.\u2014Le grief \u00e9tait donc que,\nnonobstant que ces Anglais, mes sujets, comme il les appelait, eussent\nv\u00e9cu avec ces femmes depuis pr\u00e8s de sept ann\u00e9es, et leur eussent\nappris \u00e0 parler l\u2019anglais, m\u00eame \u00e0 le lire, et qu\u2019elles fussent, comme\nil s\u2019en \u00e9tait aper\u00e7u, des femmes assez intelligentes et susceptibles\nd\u2019instruction, ils ne leur avaient rien enseign\u00e9 jusqu\u2019alors de la\nreligion chr\u00e9tienne, pas seulement fait conna\u00eetre qu\u2019il est un Dieu,\nqu\u2019il a un culte, de quelle mani\u00e8re Dieu veut \u00eatre servi, ni que leur\npropre idol\u00e2trie et leur adoration \u00e9taient fausses et absurdes.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait, disait-il, une n\u00e9gligence injustifiable! que Dieu leur en\ndemanderait certainement compte, et que peut-\u00eatre il finirait par leur\narracher l\u2019\u0153uvre des mains. Tout ceci fut prononc\u00e9 avec beaucoup de\nsensibilit\u00e9 et de chaleur.\u2014\u00abJe suis persuad\u00e9, poursuivit-il, que si\nces hommes eussent v\u00e9cu dans la contr\u00e9e sauvage d\u2019o\u00f9 leurs femmes sont\nvenues, les sauvages auraient pris plus de peine pour les amener \u00e0 se\nfaire idol\u00e2tres et \u00e0 adorer le d\u00e9mon, qu\u2019aucun d\u2019eux, autant que je\npuis le voir, n\u2019en a pris pour instruire sa femme dans la connaissance\ndu vrai Dieu.\u2014Or, sir, continua-t-il, quoique je ne sois pas de votre\ncommunion, ni vous de la mienne, cependant, l\u2019un et l\u2019autre, nous\ndevrions \u00eatre joyeux de voir les serviteurs du d\u00e9mon et les sujets\nde son royaume apprendre \u00e0 conna\u00eetre les principes g\u00e9n\u00e9raux de la\nreligion chr\u00e9tienne, de mani\u00e8re qu\u2019ils puissent au moins poss\u00e9der\nquelques notions de Dieu et d\u2019un R\u00e9dempteur, de la r\u00e9surrection\net d\u2019une vie future, choses auxquelles nous tous nous croyons. Au\nmoins seraient-ils ainsi beaucoup plus pr\u00e8s d\u2019entrer dans le giron\nde la v\u00e9ritable \u00c9glise qu\u2019ils ne le sont maintenant en professant\npubliquement l\u2019idol\u00e2trie et le culte de Satan.\u00bb\nJe n\u2019y tins plus; je le pris dans mes bras et l\u2019embrassai avec un\nexc\u00e8s de tendresse.\u2014\u00abQue j\u2019\u00e9tais loin, lui dis-je, de comprendre le\ndevoir le plus essentiel d\u2019un chr\u00e9tien, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de vouloir avec\namour l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat de l\u2019\u00c9glise chr\u00e9tienne et le bien des \u00e2mes de notre\nprochain! A peine savais-je ce qu\u2019il faut pour \u00eatre chr\u00e9tien.\u00bb\u2014\u00abOh!\nmonsieur, ne parlez pas ainsi, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il; la chose ne vient pas\nde votre faute.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, dis-je, mais pourquoi ne l\u2019ai-je pas prise \u00e0\nc\u0153ur comme vous?\u00bb\u2014\u00abIl n\u2019est pas trop tard encore, dit-il; ne soyez\npas si prompt \u00e0 vous condamner vous-m\u00eame.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMais qu\u2019y a-t-il \u00e0\nfaire maintenant? repris-je. Vous voyez que je suis sur le point de\npartir.\u00bb\u2014\u00abVoulez-vous me permettre, sir, d\u2019en causer avec ces pauvres\nhommes?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, de tout mon c\u0153ur, r\u00e9pondis-je, et je les obligerai \u00e0 se\nmontrer attentifs \u00e0 ce que vous leur direz.\u00bb\u2014\u00abQuant \u00e0 cela, dit-il,\nnous devons les abandonner \u00e0 la gr\u00e2ce du Christ; notre affaire est\nseulement de les assister, de les encourager et de les instruire.\nAvec votre permission et la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu, je ne doute point\nque ces pauvres \u00e2mes ignorantes n\u2019entrent dans le grand domaine de la\nchr\u00e9tient\u00e9, sinon dans la foi particuli\u00e8re que nous embrassons tous,\net cela m\u00eame pendant que vous serez encore ici.\u00bb\u2014\u00abL\u00e0-dessus, lui\ndis-je, non seulement je vous accorde cette permission, mais encore\nje vous donne mille remerciements.\u00bb\u2014De ce qui s\u2019en est suivi je ferai\n\u00e9galement mention en son lieu.\nJe le pressai de passer au troisi\u00e8me article, sur lequel nous \u00e9tions\nr\u00e9pr\u00e9hensibles.\u2014\u00abEn v\u00e9rit\u00e9, dit-il, il est de la m\u00eame nature, et je\npoursuivrai, moyennant votre permission, avec la m\u00eame franchise. Il\ns\u2019agit de vos pauvres sauvages de par l\u00e0-bas, qui sont devenus,\u2014pour\nainsi parler,\u2014vos sujets par droit de conqu\u00eate. Il y a une maxime,\nsir, qui est ou doit \u00eatre re\u00e7ue parmi tous les chr\u00e9tiens, de quelque\ncommunion ou pr\u00e9tendue communion qu\u2019ils soient, et cette maxime est\nque la croyance chr\u00e9tienne doit \u00eatre propag\u00e9e par tous les moyens et\ndans toutes les occasions possibles. C\u2019est d\u2019apr\u00e8s ce principe que\nnotre \u00c9glise envoie des missionnaires dans la Perse, dans l\u2019Inde,\ndans la Chine, et que notre clerg\u00e9, m\u00eame du plus haut rang, s\u2019engage\nvolontairement dans les voyages les plus hasardeux, et p\u00e9n\u00e8tre dans\nles plus dangereuses r\u00e9sidences, parmi les barbares et les meurtriers,\npour leur enseigner la connaissance du vrai Dieu et les amener \u00e0\nembrasser la foi chr\u00e9tienne. Or, vous, sir, vous avez ici une belle\noccasion de convertir trente-six ou trente-sept pauvres sauvages\nidol\u00e2tres \u00e0 la connaissance de Dieu, leur Cr\u00e9ateur et R\u00e9dempteur, et\nje trouve tr\u00e8s extraordinaire que vous laissiez \u00e9chapper une pareille\nopportunit\u00e9 de faire une bonne \u0153uvre, digne vraiment qu\u2019un homme y\nconsacre son existence tout enti\u00e8re.\u00bb\nJe restai muet, je n\u2019avais pas un mot a dire. L\u00e0 devant les yeux\nj\u2019avais l\u2019ardeur d\u2019un z\u00e8le v\u00e9ritablement chr\u00e9tien pour Dieu et la\nreligion, quels que fussent d\u2019ailleurs les principes particuliers de\nce jeune homme de bien. Quant \u00e0 moi, jusqu\u2019alors je n\u2019avais pas m\u00eame\neu dans le c\u0153ur une pareille pens\u00e9e, et sans doute je ne l\u2019aurais\njamais con\u00e7ue; car ces sauvages \u00e9taient pour moi des esclaves, des\ngens que, si nous eussions eu \u00e0 les employer \u00e0 quelques travaux,\nnous aurions trait\u00e9s comme tels, ou que nous aurions \u00e9t\u00e9 fort aises\nde transporter dans toute autre partie du monde. Notre affaire \u00e9tait\nde nous en d\u00e9barrasser. Nous aurions tous \u00e9t\u00e9 satisfaits de les\nvoir partir pour quelque pays, pourvu qu\u2019ils ne revissent jamais le\nleur.\u2014Mais revenons \u00e0 notre sujet. J\u2019\u00e9tais, dis-je, rest\u00e9 confondu\n\u00e0 son discours, et je ne savais quelle r\u00e9ponse lui faire. Il me\nregarda fixement, et, remarquant mon trouble:\u2014\u00abSir, dit-il, je serais\nd\u00e9sol\u00e9 si quelqu\u2019une de mes paroles avait pu vous offenser.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon,\nnon, repartis-je, ma col\u00e8re ne s\u2019adresse qu\u2019\u00e0 moi-m\u00eame. Je suis\nprofond\u00e9ment contrist\u00e9 non seulement de n\u2019avoir pas eu la moindre\nid\u00e9e de cela jusqu\u2019\u00e0 cette heure, mais encore de ne pas savoir \u00e0 quoi\nme servira la connaissance que j\u2019en ai maintenant. Vous n\u2019ignorez\npas, sir, dans quelles circonstances je me trouve. Je vais aux Indes\nOrientales sur un navire fr\u00e9t\u00e9 par des n\u00e9gociants, envers lesquels\nce serait commettre une injustice criante que de retenir ici leur\nb\u00e2timent, l\u2019\u00e9quipage \u00e9tant pendant tout ce temps nourri et pay\u00e9 aux\nfrais des armateurs. Il est vrai que j\u2019ai stipul\u00e9 qu\u2019il me serait\nloisible de demeurer douze jours ici, et que si j\u2019y stationnais\ndavantage, je paierais trois livres sterling par jour de rel\u00e2che.\nToutefois je ne puis prolonger mon s\u00e9jour au del\u00e0 de huit jours: en\nvoici d\u00e9j\u00e0 treize que je suis en ce lieu. Je suis donc tout \u00e0 fait\ndans l\u2019impossibilit\u00e9 de me mettre \u00e0 cette \u0153uvre, \u00e0 moins que je ne me\nr\u00e9signe \u00e0 \u00eatre de nouveau abandonn\u00e9 sur cette \u00eele; et, dans ce cas,\nsi ce seul navire venait \u00e0 se perdre sur quelque point de sa course,\nje retomberais pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment dans le m\u00eame cas o\u00f9 je me suis trouv\u00e9 une\npremi\u00e8re fois ici, et duquel j\u2019ai \u00e9t\u00e9 si merveilleusement d\u00e9livr\u00e9.\u00bb\nIl avoua que les clauses de mon voyage \u00e9taient on\u00e9reuses; mais il\nlaissa \u00e0 ma conscience \u00e0 prononcer si le bonheur de sauver trente-sept\n\u00e2mes ne valait pas la peine que je hasardasse tout ce que j\u2019avais au\nmonde. N\u2019\u00e9tant pas autant que lui p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de cela, je lui r\u00e9pliquai\nainsi:\u2014\u00abC\u2019est en effet, sir, chose fort glorieuse que d\u2019\u00eatre un\ninstrument dans la main de Dieu pour convertir trente-sept pa\u00efens \u00e0\nla connaissance du Christ. Mais, comme vous \u00eates un eccl\u00e9siastique et\npr\u00e9pos\u00e9 \u00e0 cette \u0153uvre, il semble qu\u2019elle entre naturellement dans le\ndomaine de votre profession; comment se fait-il donc qu\u2019au lieu de m\u2019y\nexhorter, vous n\u2019offriez pas vous-m\u00eame de l\u2019entreprendre?\u00bb\nA ces mots, comme il marchait \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9, il se tourna face \u00e0\nface avec moi, et, m\u2019arr\u00eatant tout court, il me fit une profonde\nr\u00e9v\u00e9rence.\u2014\u00abJe rends gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu et \u00e0 vous du fond de mon c\u0153ur, sir,\ndit-il, de m\u2019avoir appel\u00e9 si manifestement \u00e0 une si sainte entreprise;\net si vous vous en croyez dispens\u00e9 et d\u00e9sirez que je m\u2019en charge,\nje l\u2019accepte avec empressement, et je regarderai comme une heureuse\nr\u00e9compense des p\u00e9rils et des peines d\u2019un voyage aussi interrompu\net aussi malencontreux que le mien, de vaquer enfin \u00e0 une \u0153uvre si\nglorieuse.\u00bb\n[Illustration: Il me fit une profonde r\u00e9v\u00e9rence.]\nTandis qu\u2019il parlait ainsi, je d\u00e9couvris sur son visage une sorte de\nravissement, ses yeux \u00e9tincelaient comme le feu, sa face s\u2019embrasait,\np\u00e2lissait et se renflammait, comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 en proie \u00e0 des acc\u00e8s.\nEn un mot, il \u00e9tait rayonnant de joie de se voir embarqu\u00e9 dans une\npareille entreprise. Je demeurai fort longtemps sans pouvoir exprimer\nce que j\u2019avais \u00e0 lui dire; car j\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9ellement surpris de trouver\nun homme d\u2019une telle sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 et d\u2019une telle ferveur, et entra\u00een\u00e9\npar son z\u00e8le au del\u00e0 du cercle ordinaire des hommes, non seulement de\nsa communion, mais de quelque communion que ce f\u00fbt. Or, apr\u00e8s avoir\nconsid\u00e9r\u00e9 cela quelques instants, je lui demandai s\u00e9rieusement s\u2019il\n\u00e9tait vrai qu\u2019il voul\u00fbt s\u2019aventurer, dans la vue seule d\u2019une tentative\n\u00e0 faire aupr\u00e8s de ces pauvres gens, \u00e0 rester enferm\u00e9 dans une \u00eele\ninculte, peut-\u00eatre pour la vie, et apr\u00e8s tout sans savoir m\u00eame s\u2019il\npourrait ou non leur procurer quelque bien.\nIl se tourna brusquement vers moi, et s\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abQu\u2019appelez-vous\ns\u2019aventurer? Dans quel but, s\u2019il vous pla\u00eet, sir, ajouta-t-il,\npensez-vous que j\u2019aie consenti \u00e0 prendre passage \u00e0 bord de votre\nnavire pour les Indes Orientales?\u00bb\u2014\u00abJe ne sais, dis-je, \u00e0 moins que\nce ne f\u00fbt pour pr\u00eacher les Indiens.\u00bb\u2014\u00abSans aucun doute, r\u00e9pondit-il.\nEt croyez-vous que si je puis convertir ces trente-sept hommes \u00e0 la\nfoi du Christ, je n\u2019aurai pas dignement employ\u00e9 mon temps, quand je\ndevrais m\u00eame n\u2019\u00eatre jamais retir\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00eele? Le salut de tant d\u2019\u00e2mes\nn\u2019est-il pas infiniment plus pr\u00e9cieux que ne l\u2019est ma vie et m\u00eame\ncelle de vingt autres de ma profession? Oui, sir, j\u2019adresserais toute\nma vie des actions de gr\u00e2ce au Christ et \u00e0 la Sainte Vierge si je\npouvais devenir le moindre instrument heureux du salut de l\u2019\u00e2me de ces\npauvres hommes, duss\u00e9-je ne jamais mettre le pied hors de cette \u00eele,\net ne revoir jamais mon pays natal. Or, puisque vous voulez bien me\nfaire l\u2019honneur de me confier cette t\u00e2che,\u2014en reconnaissance de quoi\nje prierai pour vous tous les jours de ma vie,\u2014je vous adresserai une\nhumble requ\u00eate.\u00bb\u2014\u00abQu\u2019est-ce? lui dis-je.\u00bb\u2014\u00abC\u2019est, r\u00e9pondit-il, de\nlaisser avec moi votre serviteur Vendredi, pour me servir d\u2019interpr\u00e8te\net me seconder aupr\u00e8s de ces sauvages; car sans truchement je ne\nsaurais en \u00eatre entendu ni les entendre.\u00bb\nJe fus profond\u00e9ment \u00e9mu \u00e0 cette demande, car je ne pouvais songer\n\u00e0 me s\u00e9parer de Vendredi, et pour maintes raisons. Il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le\ncompagnon de mes travaux; non seulement il m\u2019\u00e9tait fid\u00e8le, mais son\nd\u00e9vouement \u00e9tait sans bornes, et j\u2019avais r\u00e9solu de faire quelque chose\nde consid\u00e9rable pour lui s\u2019il me survivait, comme c\u2019\u00e9tait probable.\nD\u2019ailleurs je pensais qu\u2019ayant fait de Vendredi un protestant, ce\nserait vouloir l\u2019embrouiller enti\u00e8rement que de l\u2019inciter \u00e0 embrasser\nune autre communion. Il n\u2019e\u00fbt jamais voulu croire, tant que ses yeux\nseraient rest\u00e9s ouverts, que son vieux ma\u00eetre f\u00fbt un h\u00e9r\u00e9tique et\nserait damn\u00e9. Cela ne pouvait donc avoir pour r\u00e9sultat que de ruiner\nles principes de ce pauvre gar\u00e7on et de le rejeter dans son idol\u00e2trie\npremi\u00e8re.\nToutefois, dans cette angoisse, je fus soudainement soulag\u00e9 par la\npens\u00e9e que voici: je d\u00e9clarai \u00e0 mon jeune pr\u00eatre qu\u2019en honneur je\nne pouvais pas dire que je fusse pr\u00eat \u00e0 me s\u00e9parer de Vendredi pour\nquelque motif que ce p\u00fbt \u00eatre, quoiqu\u2019une \u0153uvre qu\u2019il estimait plus\nque sa propre vie d\u00fbt sembler \u00e0 mes yeux de beaucoup plus de prix que\nla possession ou le d\u00e9part d\u2019un serviteur; que d\u2019ailleurs j\u2019\u00e9tais\npersuad\u00e9 que Vendredi ne consentirait jamais en aucune fa\u00e7on \u00e0 se\ns\u00e9parer de moi, et que l\u2019y contraindre violemment serait une injustice\nmanifeste, parce que je lui avais promis que je ne le renverrais\njamais, et qu\u2019il m\u2019avait promis et jur\u00e9 de ne jamais m\u2019abandonner, \u00e0\nmoins que je ne le chassasse.\nL\u00e0-dessus notre abb\u00e9 parut fort en peine, car tout acc\u00e8s \u00e0 l\u2019esprit de\nces pauvres gens lui \u00e9tait ferm\u00e9, puisqu\u2019il ne comprenait pas un seul\nmot de leur langue, ni eux un seul mot de la sienne. Pour trancher\nla difficult\u00e9, je lui dis que le p\u00e8re de Vendredi avait appris\nl\u2019espagnol, et que lui-m\u00eame le connaissant, il pourrait lui servir\nd\u2019interpr\u00e8te. Ceci lui remit du baume dans le c\u0153ur, et rien n\u2019e\u00fbt pu\nle dissuader de rester pour tenter la conversion des sauvages. Mais la\nProvidence donna \u00e0 toutes ces choses un tour diff\u00e9rent et fort heureux.\nJe reviens maintenant \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re partie de ses reproches.\u2014Quand\nnous f\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s chez les Anglais, je les mandai tous ensemble, et,\napr\u00e8s leur avoir rappel\u00e9 ce que j\u2019avais fait pour eux, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\nde quels objets n\u00e9cessaires je les avais pourvus et de quelle mani\u00e8re\nces objets avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 distribu\u00e9s, ce dont ils \u00e9taient p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9s et\nreconnaissants, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 leur parler de la vie scandaleuse\nqu\u2019ils menaient, et je leur r\u00e9p\u00e9tai toutes les remarques que le pr\u00eatre\navait d\u00e9j\u00e0 faites \u00e0 cet \u00e9gard. Puis, leur d\u00e9montrant combien cette\nvie \u00e9tait antichr\u00e9tienne et impie, je leur demandai s\u2019ils \u00e9taient\nmari\u00e9s ou c\u00e9libataires. Ils m\u2019expos\u00e8rent aussit\u00f4t leur \u00e9tat, et me\nd\u00e9clar\u00e8rent que deux d\u2019entre eux \u00e9taient veufs et les trois autres\nsimplement gar\u00e7ons.\u2014\u00abComment, poursuivis-je, avez-vous pu en bonne\nconscience prendre ces femmes, vivre avec elles comme vous l\u2019avez\nfait, les appeler vos \u00e9pouses, en avoir un si grand nombre d\u2019enfants,\nsans \u00eatre l\u00e9gitimement mari\u00e9s?\u00bb\nIls me firent tous la r\u00e9ponse \u00e0 laquelle je m\u2019attendais, qu\u2019il n\u2019y\navait eu personne pour les marier; qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient engag\u00e9s devant\nle gouverneur \u00e0 les prendre pour \u00e9pouses et \u00e0 les garder et \u00e0 les\nreconna\u00eetre comme telles, et qu\u2019ils pensaient, eu \u00e9gard \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9tat des\nchoses, qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient aussi l\u00e9gitimement mari\u00e9s que s\u2019ils l\u2019eussent\n\u00e9t\u00e9 par un recteur et avec toutes les formalit\u00e9s du monde.\nJe leur r\u00e9pliquai que sans aucun doute ils \u00e9taient unis aux yeux de\nDieu et consciencieusement oblig\u00e9s de garder ces femmes pour \u00e9pouses;\nmais que les lois humaines \u00e9tant tout autres, ils pouvaient pr\u00e9tendre\nn\u2019\u00eatre pas li\u00e9s et d\u00e9laisser \u00e0 l\u2019avenir ces malheureuses et leurs\nenfants; et qu\u2019alors leurs \u00e9pouses, pauvres femmes d\u00e9sol\u00e9es, sans amis\net sans argent, n\u2019auraient aucun moyen de se sortir de peine. Aussi,\nleur dis-je, \u00e0 moins que je ne fusse assur\u00e9 de la droiture de leurs\nintentions, que je ne pouvais rien pour eux; que j\u2019aurais soin que ce\nque je ferais f\u00fbt, \u00e0 leur exclusion, tout au profit de leurs femmes\net de leurs enfants; et, \u00e0 moins qu\u2019ils ne me donnassent l\u2019assurance\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9pouseraient ces femmes, que je ne pensais pas qu\u2019il f\u00fbt\nconvenable qu\u2019ils v\u00e9cussent ainsi plus longtemps ensemble; car c\u2019\u00e9tait\ntout \u00e0 la fois scandaleux pour les hommes et offensant pour Dieu, dont\nils ne pouvaient esp\u00e9rer la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction s\u2019ils continuaient une telle\nexistence.\nTout se passa selon mon attente. Ils me d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent, principalement\nAtkins, qui semblait alors parler pour les autres, qu\u2019ils aimaient\nleurs femmes autant que si elles fussent n\u00e9es dans leur propre pays\nnatal, et qu\u2019ils ne les abandonneraient sous aucun pr\u00e9texte au\nmonde; qu\u2019ils avaient l\u2019intime croyance qu\u2019elles \u00e9taient tout aussi\nvertueuses, tout aussi modestes, et qu\u2019elles faisaient tout ce qui\nd\u00e9pendait d\u2019elles pour eux et pour leurs enfants tout aussi bien que\nquelque femme que ce put \u00eatre. Enfin, que nulle consid\u00e9ration ne\npourrait les en s\u00e9parer. William Atkins ajouta, pour son compte, que\nsi quelqu\u2019un voulait l\u2019emmener et lui offrait de le reconduire en\nAngleterre et de le faire capitaine du meilleur navire de guerre de\nla marine, il refuserait de partir s\u2019il ne pouvait emmener avec lui\nsa femme et ses enfants; et que, s\u2019il se trouvait un eccl\u00e9siastique \u00e0\nbord, il se marierait avec elle sur-le-champ et de tout c\u0153ur.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 justement ce que je voulais. Le pr\u00eatre n\u2019\u00e9tait pas avec moi\nen ce moment, mais il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas loin. Je dis donc \u00e0 Atkins, pour\nl\u2019\u00e9prouver jusqu\u2019au bout, que j\u2019avais avec moi un eccl\u00e9siastique,\net que, s\u2019il \u00e9tait sinc\u00e8re, je le marierais le lendemain; puis\nje l\u2019engageai \u00e0 y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir et \u00e0 en causer avec les autres. Il\nme r\u00e9pondit que, quant \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame, il n\u2019avait nullement besoin\nde r\u00e9flexion, car il \u00e9tait fort dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 cela, et fort aise que\nj\u2019eusse un ministre avec moi. Son opinion \u00e9tait d\u2019ailleurs que tous\ny consentiraient \u00e9galement. Je lui d\u00e9clarai alors que mon ami le\nministre \u00e9tait Fran\u00e7ais et ne parlait pas anglais; mais que je ferais\nentre eux l\u2019office de clerc. Il ne me demanda seulement pas s\u2019il \u00e9tait\npapiste ou protestant, ce que vraiment je redoutais. Jamais m\u00eame il ne\nfut question de cela. Sur ce, nous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes. Moi, je retournai\nvers mon eccl\u00e9siastique et William Atkins rentra pour s\u2019entretenir\navec ses compagnons.\u2014Je recommandai au pr\u00eatre fran\u00e7ais de ne rien\nleur dire jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que l\u2019affaire f\u00fbt tout \u00e0 fait m\u00fbre, et je lui\ncommuniquai leur r\u00e9ponse.\nAvant que j\u2019eusse quitt\u00e9 leur habitation, ils vinrent tous \u00e0 moi\npour m\u2019annoncer qu\u2019ils avaient consid\u00e9r\u00e9 ce que je leur avais dit;\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient ravis d\u2019apprendre que j\u2019eusse un eccl\u00e9siastique en ma\ncompagnie, et qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient pr\u00eats \u00e0 me donner la satisfaction que\nje d\u00e9sirais, et \u00e0 se marier dans les formes d\u00e8s que tel serait mon\nplaisir; car ils \u00e9taient bien \u00e9loign\u00e9s de souhaiter de se s\u00e9parer\nde leurs femmes, et n\u2019avaient eu que des vues honn\u00eates quand ils en\navaient fait choix. J\u2019arr\u00eatai alors qu\u2019ils viendraient me trouver le\nlendemain matin, et dans cette entrefaite qu\u2019ils expliqueraient \u00e0\nleurs femmes le sens de la loi du mariage, dont le but n\u2019\u00e9tait pas\nseulement de pr\u00e9venir le scandale, mais de les obliger, eux, \u00e0 ne\npoint les d\u00e9laisser, quoiqu\u2019il p\u00fbt advenir.\n[Illustration: Ils vinrent tous \u00e0 moi...]\nLes femmes saisirent ais\u00e9ment l\u2019esprit de la chose, et en furent\ntr\u00e8s satisfaites, comme en effet elles avaient sujet de l\u2019\u00eatre.\nAussi ne manqu\u00e8rent-ils pas le lendemain de se r\u00e9unir tous dans mon\nappartement, o\u00f9 je produisis mon eccl\u00e9siastique. Quoiqu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt pas\nla robe d\u2019un ministre anglican, ni le costume d\u2019un pr\u00eatre fran\u00e7ais,\ncomme il portait un v\u00eatement noir, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s en mani\u00e8re de soutane,\net nou\u00e9 d\u2019une ceinture, il ne ressemblait pas trop mal \u00e0 un pasteur.\nQuant au mode de communication, je fus son interpr\u00e8te.\nLa gravit\u00e9 de ses mani\u00e8res avec eux, et les scrupules qu\u2019il se fit\nde marier les femmes, parce qu\u2019elles n\u2019\u00e9taient pas baptis\u00e9es et ne\nprofessaient pas la foi chr\u00e9tienne, leur inspir\u00e8rent une extr\u00eame\nconsid\u00e9ration pour sa personne. Apr\u00e8s cela, il ne leur fut pas\nn\u00e9cessaire de s\u2019enqu\u00e9rir s\u2019il \u00e9tait ou non eccl\u00e9siastique.\nVraiment je craignis que son scrupule ne f\u00fbt pouss\u00e9 si loin, qu\u2019il ne\nvoul\u00fbt pas les marier du tout. Nonobstant tout ce que je pus dire,\nil me r\u00e9sista, avec modestie, mais avec fermet\u00e9; et enfin il refusa\nabsolument de les unir, \u00e0 moins d\u2019avoir conf\u00e9r\u00e9 pr\u00e9alablement avec les\nhommes et avec les femmes aussi. Bien que d\u2019abord j\u2019y eusse un peu\nr\u00e9pugn\u00e9, je finis par y consentir de bonne gr\u00e2ce, apr\u00e8s avoir reconnu\nla sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 de ses vues.\nIl commen\u00e7a par leur dire que je l\u2019avais instruit de leur situation\net du pr\u00e9sent dessein; qu\u2019il \u00e9tait tout dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 s\u2019acquitter de\ncette partie de son minist\u00e8re, \u00e0 les marier enfin, comme j\u2019en avais\nmanifest\u00e9 le d\u00e9sir, mais qu\u2019avant de pouvoir le faire, il devait\nprendre la libert\u00e9 de s\u2019entretenir avec eux. Alors il leur d\u00e9clara\nqu\u2019aux yeux de tout homme et selon l\u2019esprit des lois sociales,\nils avaient v\u00e9cu jusqu\u2019\u00e0 cette heure d\u2019une mani\u00e8re irr\u00e9guli\u00e8re, \u00e0\nlaquelle rien que leur consentement \u00e0 se marier ou \u00e0 se s\u00e9parer\neffectivement et imm\u00e9diatement ne pouvait mettre un terme; mais qu\u2019en\ncela il s\u2019\u00e9levait m\u00eame, relativement aux lois chr\u00e9tiennes du mariage,\nune difficult\u00e9 qui ne laissait pas de l\u2019inqui\u00e9ter, celle d\u2019unir un\nchr\u00e9tien \u00e0 une sauvage, une idol\u00e2tre, une pa\u00efenne, une cr\u00e9ature non\nbaptis\u00e9e; et cependant qu\u2019il ne voyait pas qu\u2019il lui f\u00fbt possible\nd\u2019amener ces femmes par la voie de la persuasion \u00e0 se faire baptiser,\nou \u00e0 confesser le nom du Christ, dont il doutait qu\u2019elles eussent\njamais ou\u00ef parler, et sans quoi elles ne pouvaient recevoir le bapt\u00eame.\nIl leur d\u00e9clara encore qu\u2019il pr\u00e9sumait qu\u2019eux-m\u00eames n\u2019\u00e9taient que de\ntr\u00e8s indiff\u00e9rents chr\u00e9tiens, n\u2019ayant qu\u2019une faible connaissance de\nDieu et de ses voies; qu\u2019en cons\u00e9quence il ne pouvait s\u2019attendre \u00e0 ce\nqu\u2019ils en eussent dit bien long \u00e0 leurs femmes sur cet article; et\nque, s\u2019ils ne voulaient promettre de faire tous leurs efforts aupr\u00e8s\nd\u2019elles pour les persuader de devenir chr\u00e9tiennes et de les instruire\nde leur mieux dans la connaissance et la croyance de Dieu qui les a\ncr\u00e9\u00e9es, et dans l\u2019adoration de J\u00e9sus-Christ qui les a rachet\u00e9es, il\nne pourrait consacrer leur union; car il ne voulait point pr\u00eater les\nmains \u00e0 une alliance de chr\u00e9tiens \u00e0 des sauvages, chose contraire aux\nprincipes de la religion chr\u00e9tienne et formellement d\u00e9fendue par la\nloi de Dieu.\nIls \u00e9cout\u00e8rent fort attentivement tout ceci, que, sortant de sa\nbouche, je leur transmettais tr\u00e8s fid\u00e8lement et aussi litt\u00e9ralement\nque je le pouvais, ajoutant seulement parfois quelque chose de mon\npropre, pour leur faire sentir combien c\u2019\u00e9tait juste et combien\nje l\u2019approuvais. Mais j\u2019\u00e9tablissais toujours tr\u00e8s scrupuleusement\nune distinction entre ce que je tirais de moi-m\u00eame et ce qui \u00e9tait\nles paroles du pr\u00eatre. Ils me r\u00e9pondirent que ce que le gentleman\navait dit \u00e9tait v\u00e9ritable, qu\u2019ils n\u2019\u00e9taient eux-m\u00eames que de tr\u00e8s\nindiff\u00e9rents chr\u00e9tiens, et qu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient jamais touch\u00e9 un mot de\nreligion \u00e0 leurs femmes.\u2014\u00abSeigneur Dieu! sir, s\u2019\u00e9cria William Atkins,\ncomment leur enseignerions-nous la religion? nous n\u2019y entendons rien\nnous-m\u00eames. D\u2019ailleurs, si nous allions leur parler de Dieu, de\nJ\u00e9sus-Christ, du ciel et de l\u2019enfer, ce serait vouloir les faire rire\n\u00e0 nos d\u00e9pens, \u00e0 les pousser \u00e0 nous demander ce que nous-m\u00eames nous\ncroyons; et si nous leur disions que nous ajoutons foi \u00e0 toutes les\nchoses dont nous leur parlons, par exemple, que les bons vont au ciel\net les m\u00e9chants en enfer, elles ne manqueraient pas de nous demander\no\u00f9 nous pr\u00e9tendons aller nous-m\u00eames, qui croyons \u00e0 tout cela et n\u2019en\nsommes pas moins de mauvais \u00eatres, comme en effet nous le sommes.\nVraiment, sir, cela suffirait pour leur inspirer tout d\u2019abord du\nd\u00e9go\u00fbt pour la religion. Il faut avoir de la religion soi-m\u00eame avant\nde vouloir pr\u00eacher les autres.\u00bb\u2014\u00abWilliam Atkins, lui repartis-je,\nquoique j\u2019aie peur que ce que vous dites ne soit que trop vrai en soi,\nne pourriez-vous cependant r\u00e9pondre \u00e0 votre femme qu\u2019elle est plong\u00e9e\ndans l\u2019erreur; qu\u2019il est un Dieu; qu\u2019il y a une religion meilleure que\nla sienne; que ses dieux sont des idoles qui ne peuvent ni entendre ni\nparler; qu\u2019il existe un grand \u00catre qui a fait toutes choses et qui a\npuissance de d\u00e9truire tout ce qu\u2019il a fait; qu\u2019il r\u00e9compense le bien\net punit le mal; et que nous serons jug\u00e9s par lui \u00e0 la fin, selon nos\n\u0153uvres en ce monde? Vous n\u2019\u00eates pas tellement d\u00e9pourvu de sens que la\nnature elle-m\u00eame ne vous ait enseign\u00e9 que tout cela est vrai; je suis\ns\u00fbr que vous savez qu\u2019il en est ainsi, et que vous y croyez vous-m\u00eame.\n\u2014\u00abCela est juste, sir, r\u00e9pliqua Atkins; mais de quel front pourrais-je\ndire quelque chose de tout ceci \u00e0 ma femme quand elle me r\u00e9pondrait\nimm\u00e9diatement que ce n\u2019est pas vrai?\n\u2014\u00abPas vrai! r\u00e9pliquai-je. Qu\u2019entendez-vous par l\u00e0?\n\u2014\u00abOui, sir, elle me dira qu\u2019il n\u2019est pas vrai que ce Dieu dont je\nlui parlerai soit juste, et puisse punir et r\u00e9compenser, puisque je\nne suis pas puni et livr\u00e9 \u00e0 Satan, moi qui ai \u00e9t\u00e9, elle ne le sait\nque trop, une si mauvaise cr\u00e9ature envers elle et envers tous les\nautres, puisqu\u2019il souffre que je vive, moi qui ai toujours agi si\ncontrairement \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il faut que je lui pr\u00e9sente comme le bien, et \u00e0\nce que j\u2019eusse d\u00fb faire.\n\u2014\u00abOui, vraiment, Atkins, r\u00e9p\u00e9tai-je, j\u2019ai grand\u2019peur que tu ne\ndises trop vrai.\u00bb\u2014Et l\u00e0-dessus je reportai les r\u00e9ponses d\u2019Atkins\n\u00e0 l\u2019eccl\u00e9siastique, qui br\u00fblait de les conna\u00eetre.\u2014\u00abOh! s\u2019\u00e9cria le\npr\u00eatre, dites-lui qu\u2019il est une chose qui peut le rendre le meilleur\nministre du monde aupr\u00e8s de sa femme, et que c\u2019est la repentance; car\npersonne ne pr\u00eache le repentir comme les vrais p\u00e9nitents. Il ne lui\nmanque que cela pour \u00eatre mieux que tout autre en \u00e9tat d\u2019instruire son\n\u00e9pouse. C\u2019est alors qu\u2019il sera qualifi\u00e9 pour lui apprendre que non\nseulement il est un Dieu, juste r\u00e9mun\u00e9rateur du bien et du mal, mais\nque ce Dieu est un \u00eatre mis\u00e9ricordieux; que, dans sa bont\u00e9 ineffable\net sa patience infinie, il diff\u00e8re de punir ceux qui l\u2019outragent, \u00e0\ndessein d\u2019user de cl\u00e9mence, car il ne veut pas la mort du p\u00e9cheur,\nmais bien qu\u2019il revienne \u00e0 soi et qu\u2019il vive; que souvent il souffre\nque les m\u00e9chants parcourent une longue carri\u00e8re; que souvent m\u00eame il\najourne leur damnation au jour de l\u2019universelle r\u00e9tribution; et que\nc\u2019est l\u00e0 une preuve \u00e9vidente d\u2019un Dieu et d\u2019une vie future, que les\njustes ne re\u00e7oivent pas leur r\u00e9compense ni les m\u00e9chants leur ch\u00e2timent\nen ce monde. Ceci le conduira naturellement \u00e0 enseigner \u00e0 sa femme\nles dogmes de la r\u00e9surrection et du jugement dernier. En v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je\nvous le dis, que seulement il se repente, et il sera pour sa femme un\nexcellent instrument de repentance.\u00bb\nJe r\u00e9p\u00e9tai tout ceci \u00e0 Atkins, qui l\u2019\u00e9couta d\u2019un air fort grave, et\nqui, il \u00e9tait facile de le voir, en fut extraordinairement affect\u00e9.\nTout \u00e0 coup, s\u2019impatientant et me laissant \u00e0 peine achever:\u2014\u00abJe sais\ntout cela, master, me dit-il, et bien d\u2019autres choses encore; mais je\nn\u2019aurai pas l\u2019impudence de parler ainsi \u00e0 ma femme, quand Dieu et ma\npropre conscience savent, quand ma femme elle-m\u00eame serait contre moi\nun irr\u00e9cusable t\u00e9moin, que j\u2019ai v\u00e9cu comme si je n\u2019eusse jamais ou\u00ef\nparler de Dieu ou d\u2019une vie future ou de rien de semblable; et pour\nce qui est de mon repentir, h\u00e9las!...\u2014l\u00e0-dessus il poussa un profond\nsoupir et je vis ses yeux se mouiller de larmes,\u2014tout est perdu pour\nmoi!\u00bb\u2014\u00abPerdu! Atkins; mais qu\u2019entends-tu par l\u00e0?\u00bb\u2014\u00abJe ne sais que trop\nce que j\u2019entends, sir, r\u00e9pondit-il; j\u2019entends qu\u2019il est trop tard, et\nque ce n\u2019est que trop vrai.\u00bb\nJe traduisis mot pour mot \u00e0 mon eccl\u00e9siastique ce que William venait\nde me dire. Le pauvre pr\u00eatre z\u00e9l\u00e9,\u2014ainsi dois-je l\u2019appeler, car,\nquelle que f\u00fbt sa croyance, il avait assur\u00e9ment une rare sollicitude\ndu salut de l\u2019\u00e2me de son prochain, et il serait cruel de penser qu\u2019il\nn\u2019e\u00fbt pas une \u00e9gale sollicitude de son propre salut; cet homme z\u00e9l\u00e9\net charitable, dis-je, ne put aussi retenir ses larmes; mais, s\u2019\u00e9tant\nremis, il me dit:\u2014\u00abFaites-lui cette seule question: Est-il satisfait\nqu\u2019il soit trop tard ou en est-il chagrin, et souhaiterait-il qu\u2019il\nn\u2019en f\u00fbt pas ainsi?\u00bb\u2014Je posai nettement la question \u00e0 Atkins, et il\nme r\u00e9pondit avec beaucoup de chaleur:\u2014\u00abComment un homme pourrait-il\ntrouver sa satisfaction dans une situation qui s\u00fbrement doit avoir\npour fin la mort \u00e9ternelle? Bien loin d\u2019en \u00eatre satisfait, je pense,\nau contraire, qu\u2019un jour ou l\u2019autre elle causera ma ruine.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abQu\u2019entendez-vous par l\u00e0?\u00bb lui dis-je. Et il me r\u00e9pliqua qu\u2019il\npensait en venir, ou plus t\u00f4t ou plus tard, \u00e0 se couper la gorge pour\nmettre fin \u00e0 ses terreurs.\nL\u2019eccl\u00e9siastique hocha la t\u00eate d\u2019un air profond\u00e9ment p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9, quand\nje lui reportai tout cela; et, s\u2019adressant brusquement \u00e0 moi, il\nme dit:\u2014\u00abSi tel est son \u00e9tat, vous pouvez l\u2019assurer qu\u2019il n\u2019est pas\ntrop tard. Le Christ lui donnera repentance. Mais, je vous en prie,\najouta-t-il, expliquez-lui ceci: Que comme l\u2019homme n\u2019est sauv\u00e9 que\npar le Christ et le m\u00e9rite de sa Passion interc\u00e9dant la mis\u00e9ricorde\ndivine, il n\u2019est jamais trop tard pour rentrer en gr\u00e2ce. Pense-t-il\nqu\u2019il soit possible \u00e0 l\u2019homme de p\u00e9cher au del\u00e0 des bornes de la\npuissance mis\u00e9ricordieuse de Dieu? Dites-lui, je vous prie, qu\u2019il\ny a peut-\u00eatre un temps o\u00f9, lass\u00e9e, la gr\u00e2ce divine cesse ses longs\nefforts, et o\u00f9 Dieu peut refuser de pr\u00eater l\u2019oreille; mais que pour\nl\u2019homme il n\u2019est jamais trop tard pour implorer merci; que nous,\nqui sommes serviteurs du Christ, nous avons pour mission de pr\u00eacher\nle pardon en tout temps, au nom de J\u00e9sus-Christ, \u00e0 tous ceux qui\nse repentent sinc\u00e8rement. Donc ce n\u2019est jamais trop tard pour se\nrepentir.\u00bb\nJe r\u00e9p\u00e9tai tout ceci \u00e0 Atkins. Il m\u2019\u00e9couta avec empressement; mais\nil parut vouloir remettre la fin de l\u2019entretien, car il me dit qu\u2019il\nd\u00e9sirait sortir pour causer un peu avec sa femme. Il se retira en\neffet, et nous poursuiv\u00eemes avec ses compagnons. Je m\u2019aper\u00e7us qu\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient tous ignorants jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la stupidit\u00e9 en mati\u00e8re de religion,\ncomme je l\u2019\u00e9tais moi-m\u00eame quand je m\u2019enfuis de chez mon p\u00e8re pour\ncourir le monde. Cependant aucun d\u2019eux ne s\u2019\u00e9tait montr\u00e9 inattentif\n\u00e0 ce qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 dit; et tous promirent s\u00e9rieusement d\u2019en parler \u00e0\nleurs femmes, et d\u2019employer tous leurs efforts pour les persuader de\nse faire chr\u00e9tiennes.\nL\u2019eccl\u00e9siastique sourit lorsque je lui rendis leur r\u00e9ponse; mais il\ngarda longtemps le silence. A la fin pourtant, secouant la t\u00eate:\u2014\u00abNous\nqui sommes serviteurs du Christ, dit-il, nous ne pouvons qu\u2019exhorter\net instruire; quand les hommes se soumettent et se conforment \u00e0\nnos censures, et promettent ce que nous demandons, notre pouvoir\ns\u2019arr\u00eate l\u00e0; nous sommes tenus d\u2019accepter leurs bonnes paroles. Mais\ncroyez-moi, sir, continua-t-il, quoi que vous ayez pu apprendre de la\nvie de cet homme que vous nommez William Atkins, j\u2019ai la conviction\nqu\u2019il est parmi eux le seul sinc\u00e8rement converti. Je le regarde comme\nun vrai p\u00e9nitent. Non que je d\u00e9sesp\u00e8re des autres. Mais cet homme-ci\nest profond\u00e9ment frapp\u00e9 des \u00e9garements de sa vie pass\u00e9e, et je ne\ndoute pas que lorsqu\u2019il viendra \u00e0 parler de religion \u00e0 sa femme, il\nne s\u2019en p\u00e9n\u00e8tre lui-m\u00eame efficacement; car s\u2019efforcer d\u2019instruire\nles autres est souvent le meilleur moyen de s\u2019instruire soi-m\u00eame.\nJ\u2019ai connu un homme qui, ajouta-t-il, n\u2019ayant de la religion que des\nnotions sommaires, et menant une vie au plus haut point coupable\net perdue de d\u00e9bauches, en vint \u00e0 une compl\u00e8te r\u00e9sipiscence en\ns\u2019appliquant \u00e0 convertir un juif. Si donc le pauvre Atkins se met une\nfois \u00e0 parler s\u00e9rieusement de J\u00e9sus-Christ \u00e0 sa femme, j\u2019ose parier\nqu\u2019il entrera par l\u00e0 lui-m\u00eame dans la voie d\u2019une enti\u00e8re conversion\net d\u2019une sinc\u00e8re p\u00e9nitence. Et qui sait ce qui peut s\u2019ensuivre?\u00bb\nD\u2019apr\u00e8s cette conversation cependant, et les susdites promesses de\ns\u2019efforcer \u00e0 persuader aux femmes d\u2019embrasser le christianisme, le\npr\u00eatre maria les trois couples pr\u00e9sents. William Atkins et sa femme\nn\u2019\u00e9taient pas encore rentr\u00e9s. Les \u00e9pousailles faites, apr\u00e8s avoir\nattendu quelque temps, mon eccl\u00e9siastique fut curieux de savoir o\u00f9\n\u00e9tait all\u00e9 Atkins; et, se tournant vers moi, il me dit:\u2014\u00abSir, je vous\nen supplie, sortons de votre labyrinthe, et allons voir. J\u2019ose avancer\nque nous trouverons par l\u00e0 ce pauvre homme causant s\u00e9rieusement avec\nsa femme et lui enseignant d\u00e9j\u00e0 quelque chose de la religion.\u00bb\u2014Je\ncommen\u00e7ais \u00e0 \u00eatre de m\u00eame avis. Nous sort\u00eemes donc ensemble, et je le\nmenai par un chemin qui n\u2019\u00e9tait connu que de moi, et o\u00f9 les arbres\ns\u2019\u00e9levaient si \u00e9pais qu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas facile de voir \u00e0 travers les\ntouffes de feuillage, qui permettaient encore moins d\u2019\u00eatre vu qu\u2019elles\nne laissaient voir. Quand nous f\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 la lisi\u00e8re du bois,\nj\u2019aper\u00e7us Atkins et sa sauvage \u00e9pouse au teint basan\u00e9 assis \u00e0 l\u2019ombre\nd\u2019un buisson et engag\u00e9s dans une conversation anim\u00e9e. Je restai coi\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que mon eccl\u00e9siastique m\u2019e\u00fbt rejoint; et alors, lui ayant\nmontr\u00e9 o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient, nous f\u00eemes halte et les examin\u00e2mes longtemps\navec la plus grande attention.\n[Illustration: J\u2019aper\u00e7us Atkins et sa sauvage \u00e9pouse...]\nNous remarqu\u00e2mes qu\u2019il la sollicitait vivement en lui montrant du\ndoigt l\u00e0-haut le soleil et toutes les r\u00e9gions des cieux; puis en bas\nla terre, puis au loin la mer, puis lui-m\u00eame, puis elle, puis les bois\net les arbres.\u2014\u00abOr, me dit mon eccl\u00e9siastique, vous le voyez, voici\nque mes paroles se v\u00e9rifient: il la pr\u00eache. Observez-le; maintenant\nil lui enseigne que notre Dieu les a faits, elle et lui, de m\u00eame que\nle firmament, la terre, la mer, les bois et les arbres.\u00bb\u2014\u00abJe le crois\naussi,\u00bb lui r\u00e9pondis-je.\u2014Aussit\u00f4t nous v\u00eemes Atkins se lever, puis se\njeter \u00e0 genoux en \u00e9levant ses deux mains vers le ciel. Nous suppos\u00e2mes\nqu\u2019il prof\u00e9rait quelque chose, mais nous ne p\u00fbmes l\u2019entendre: nous\n\u00e9tions trop \u00e9loign\u00e9s pour cela. Il resta \u00e0 peine une demi-minute\nagenouill\u00e9, revint s\u2019asseoir aupr\u00e8s de sa femme et lui parla derechef.\nNous remarqu\u00e2mes alors combien elle \u00e9tait attentive; mais gardait-elle\nle silence ou parlait-elle, c\u2019est ce que nous n\u2019aurions su dire.\nTandis que ce pauvre homme \u00e9tait agenouill\u00e9, j\u2019avais vu des larmes\ncouler en abondance sur les joues de mon eccl\u00e9siastique, et j\u2019avais eu\npeine moi-m\u00eame \u00e0 me retenir. Mais c\u2019\u00e9tait un grand chagrin pour nous\nque de ne pas \u00eatre assez pr\u00e8s pour entendre quelque chose de ce qui\ns\u2019agitait entre eux.\nCependant nous ne pouvions approcher davantage de peur de les\ntroubler. Nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes donc d\u2019attendre la fin de cette conversation\nsilencieuse, qui d\u2019ailleurs nous parlait assez haut sans le secours\nde la voix. Atkins, comme je l\u2019ai dit, s\u2019\u00e9tait assis de nouveau tout\naupr\u00e8s de sa femme, et lui parlait derechef avec chaleur. Deux ou\ntrois fois nous p\u00fbmes voir qu\u2019il l\u2019embrassait passionn\u00e9ment. Une\nautre fois nous le v\u00eemes prendre son mouchoir, lui essuyer les yeux,\npuis l\u2019embrasser encore avec transport. Enfin, apr\u00e8s plusieurs choses\nsemblables, nous le v\u00eemes se relever tout \u00e0 coup, lui tendre la main\npour l\u2019aider \u00e0 faire de m\u00eame, puis, la tenant ainsi, la conduire\naussit\u00f4t \u00e0 quelques pas de l\u00e0, o\u00f9 tous deux s\u2019agenouill\u00e8rent et\nrest\u00e8rent dans cette attitude deux minutes environ.\nMon ami ne se poss\u00e9dait plus. Il s\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abSaint Paul! saint Paul!\nvoyez, il prie!\u00bb\u2014Je craignis qu\u2019Atkins ne l\u2019entend\u00eet: je le conjurai\nde se mod\u00e9rer pendant quelques instants, afin que nous pussions voir\nla fin de cette sc\u00e8ne, qui, pour moi, je dois le confesser, fut bien\ntout \u00e0 la fois la plus touchante et la plus agr\u00e9able que j\u2019aie jamais\nvue de ma vie. Il chercha en effet \u00e0 se rendre ma\u00eetre de lui; mais\nil \u00e9tait dans de tels ravissements de penser que cette pauvre femme\npa\u00efenne \u00e9tait devenue chr\u00e9tienne, qu\u2019il lui fut impossible de se\ncontenir, et qu\u2019il versa des larmes \u00e0 plusieurs reprises. Levant les\nmains vers le ciel et se signant la poitrine, il faisait des oraisons\njaculatoires pour rendre gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu d\u2019une preuve si miraculeuse\ndu succ\u00e8s de nos efforts; tant\u00f4t il parlait tout bas et je pouvais\n\u00e0 peine entendre, tant\u00f4t \u00e0 voix haute, tant\u00f4t en latin, tant\u00f4t en\nfran\u00e7ais; deux o\u00f9 trois fois des larmes de joie l\u2019interrompirent\net \u00e9touff\u00e8rent ses paroles tout \u00e0 fait. Je le conjurai de nouveau\nde se calmer, afin que nous pussions observer de plus pr\u00e8s et plus\ncompl\u00e8tement ce qui se passait sous nos yeux, ce qu\u2019il fit pour\nquelque temps. La sc\u00e8ne n\u2019\u00e9tait pas finie; car, apr\u00e8s qu\u2019ils se\nfurent relev\u00e9s, nous v\u00eemes encore le pauvre homme parler avec ardeur\n\u00e0 sa femme, et nous reconn\u00fbmes \u00e0 ses gestes qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait vivement\ntouch\u00e9e de ce qu\u2019il disait: elle levait fr\u00e9quemment les mains au\nciel, elle posait une main sur sa poitrine, ou prenait telles autres\nattitudes qui d\u00e9c\u00e8lent d\u2019ordinaire une componction profonde et une\ns\u00e9rieuse attention. Ceci dura un demi-quart d\u2019heure environ. Puis ils\ns\u2019\u00e9loign\u00e8rent trop pour que nous pussions les \u00e9pier plus longtemps.\nJe saisis cet instant pour adresser la parole \u00e0 mon religieux, et je\nlui dis d\u2019abord que j\u2019\u00e9tais charm\u00e9 d\u2019avoir vu dans ses d\u00e9tails ce dont\nnous venions d\u2019\u00eatre t\u00e9moins; que, malgr\u00e9 que je fusse assez incr\u00e9dule\nen pareil cas, je me laissais cependant aller \u00e0 croire qu\u2019ici tout\n\u00e9tait fort sinc\u00e8re, tant de la part du mari que de celle de la femme,\nquelle que put \u00eatre d\u2019ailleurs leur ignorance, et que j\u2019esp\u00e9rais\nqu\u2019un tel commencement aurait encore une fin plus heureuse.\u2014\u00abEt qui\nsait, ajoutai-je, si ces deux-l\u00e0 ne pourront pas avec le temps,\npar la voie de l\u2019enseignement et de l\u2019exemple, op\u00e9rer sur quelques\nautres?\u00bb\u2014\u00abQuelques autres, reprit-il en se tournant brusquement vers\nmoi, voire m\u00eame sur tous les autres. Faites fond l\u00e0-dessus: si ces\ndeux sauvages,\u2014car lui, \u00e0 votre propre dire, n\u2019a gu\u00e8re laiss\u00e9 voir\nqu\u2019il val\u00fbt mieux,\u2014s\u2019adonnent \u00e0 J\u00e9sus-Christ, ils n\u2019auront pas de\ncesse qu\u2019ils n\u2019aient converti tous les autres; car la vraie religion\nest naturellement communicative, et celui qui une bonne fois s\u2019est\nfait chr\u00e9tien ne laissera jamais un pa\u00efen derri\u00e8re lui s\u2019il peut\nle sauver.\u00bb\u2014J\u2019avouai que penser ainsi \u00e9tait un principe vraiment\nchr\u00e9tien, et la preuve d\u2019un z\u00e8le v\u00e9ritable et d\u2019un c\u0153ur g\u00e9n\u00e9reux\nen soi.\u2014\u00abMais, mon ami, poursuivis-je, voulez-vous me permettre de\nsoulever ici une difficult\u00e9? Je n\u2019ai pas la moindre chose \u00e0 objecter\ncontre le fervent int\u00e9r\u00eat que vous d\u00e9ployez pour convertir ces pauvres\ngens du paganisme \u00e0 la religion chr\u00e9tienne; mais quelle consolation en\npouvez-vous tirer, puisque, \u00e0 votre sens, ils sont hors du giron de\nl\u2019\u00c9glise catholique, hors de laquelle vous croyez qu\u2019il n\u2019y a point\nde salut? Ce ne sont toujours \u00e0 vos yeux que des h\u00e9r\u00e9tiques, et, pour\ncent raisons, aussi effectivement damn\u00e9s que les pa\u00efens eux-m\u00eames.\u00bb\nA ceci il r\u00e9pondit avec beaucoup de candeur et de charit\u00e9\nchr\u00e9tienne:\u2014\u00abSir, je suis catholique de l\u2019\u00c9glise romaine et pr\u00eatre de\nl\u2019ordre de Saint-Beno\u00eet, et je professe tous les principes de la foi\nromaine; mais cependant, croyez-moi, et ce n\u2019est pas comme compliment\nque je vous dis cela, ni eu \u00e9gard \u00e0 ma position et \u00e0 vos amiti\u00e9s, je\nne vous regarde pas, vous qui vous appelez vous-m\u00eames r\u00e9form\u00e9s, sans\nquelque sentiment charitable. Je n\u2019oserais dire, quoique je sache que\nc\u2019est en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral notre opinion, je n\u2019oserais dire que vous ne pouvez\n\u00eatre sauv\u00e9s, je ne pr\u00e9tends en aucune mani\u00e8re limiter la mis\u00e9ricorde\ndu Christ jusqu\u2019au point de penser qu\u2019il ne puisse vous recevoir dans\nle sein de son \u00c9glise par des voies \u00e0 nous impalpables, et qu\u2019il nous\nest impossible de conna\u00eetre, et j\u2019esp\u00e8re que vous avez la m\u00eame charit\u00e9\npour nous. Je prie chaque jour pour que vous soyez tous restitu\u00e9s \u00e0\nl\u2019\u00c9glise du Christ, de quelque mani\u00e8re qu\u2019il plaise \u00e0 Celui qui est\ninfiniment sage de vous y ramener. En attendant, vous reconna\u00eetrez\ns\u00fbrement qu\u2019il m\u2019appartient, comme catholique, d\u2019\u00e9tablir une grande\ndiff\u00e9rence entre un protestant et un pa\u00efen; entre celui qui invoque\nJ\u00e9sus-Christ, quoique dans un mode que je ne juge pas conforme \u00e0 la\nv\u00e9ritable foi, et un sauvage, un barbare, qui ne conna\u00eet ni Dieu, ni\nChrist, ni R\u00e9dempteur. Si vous n\u2019\u00eates pas dans le giron de l\u2019\u00c9glise\ncatholique, nous esp\u00e9rons que vous \u00eates plus pr\u00e8s d\u2019y entrer que\nceux-l\u00e0 qui ne connaissent aucunement ni Dieu ni son \u00c9glise. C\u2019est\npourquoi je me r\u00e9jouis quand je vois ce pauvre homme, que vous me\ndites avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 un d\u00e9bauch\u00e9 et presque un meurtrier, s\u2019agenouiller et\nprier J\u00e9sus-Christ, comme nous supposons qu\u2019il a fait, malgr\u00e9 qu\u2019il\nne soit pas pleinement \u00e9clair\u00e9, dans la persuasion o\u00f9 je suis que\nDieu, de qui toute \u0153uvre semblable proc\u00e8de, touchera sensiblement son\nc\u0153ur et le conduira, en son temps, \u00e0 une connaissance plus profonde\nde la v\u00e9rit\u00e9. Et si Dieu inspire \u00e0 ce pauvre homme de convertir et\nd\u2019instruire l\u2019ignorante sauvage son \u00e9pouse, je ne puis croire qu\u2019il\nle repoussera lui-m\u00eame. N\u2019ai-je donc pas raison de me r\u00e9jouir lorsque\nje vois quelqu\u2019un amen\u00e9 \u00e0 la connaissance du Christ, quoiqu\u2019il ne\npuisse \u00eatre apport\u00e9 jusque dans le sein de l\u2019\u00c9glise catholique, juste\n\u00e0 l\u2019heure o\u00f9 je puis le d\u00e9sirer, tout en laissant \u00e0 la bont\u00e9 du Christ\nle soin de parfaire son \u0153uvre en son temps et par ses propres voies?\nCertes, je me r\u00e9jouirais si tous les sauvages de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique \u00e9taient\namen\u00e9s, comme cette pauvre femme, \u00e0 prier Dieu, dussent-ils \u00eatre\ntous protestants d\u2019abord, plut\u00f4t que de les voir persister dans le\npaganisme et l\u2019idol\u00e2trie, fermement convaincu que je serais que Celui\nqui aurait \u00e9panch\u00e9 sur eux cette lumi\u00e8re daignerait plus tard les\nilluminer d\u2019un rayon de sa c\u00e9leste gr\u00e2ce et les recueillir dans le\nbercail de son \u00c9glise, alors que bon lui semblerait.\u00bb\nJe fus autant \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de la sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 et de la mod\u00e9ration de ce papiste\nv\u00e9ritablement pieux, que terrass\u00e9 par la force de sa dialectique, et\nil me vint en ce moment \u00e0 l\u2019esprit que si une pareille mod\u00e9ration\n\u00e9tait universelle, nous pourrions \u00eatre tous chr\u00e9tiens catholiques,\nquelle que f\u00fbt l\u2019\u00c9glise ou la communion particuli\u00e8re \u00e0 laquelle nous\nappartinssions; que l\u2019esprit de charit\u00e9 bient\u00f4t nous insinuerait tous\ndans de droits principes; et en un mot, comme il pensait qu\u2019une\nsemblable charit\u00e9 nous rendrait tous catholiques, je lui dis qu\u2019\u00e0\nmon sens, si tous les membres de son \u00c9glise professaient la m\u00eame\ntol\u00e9rance, ils seraient bient\u00f4t tous protestants. Et nous bris\u00e2mes l\u00e0,\ncar nous n\u2019entrions jamais en controverse.\nCependant, changeant de langage, et lui prenant la main:\u2014\u00abMon ami,\nlui dis-je, je souhaiterais que tout le clerg\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00c9glise romaine\nf\u00fbt dou\u00e9 d\u2019une telle mod\u00e9ration, et d\u2019une charit\u00e9 \u00e9gale \u00e0 la v\u00f4tre.\nJe suis enti\u00e8rement de votre opinion; mais je dois vous dire que si\nvous pr\u00eachiez une pareille doctrine en Espagne ou en Italie, on vous\nlivrerait \u00e0 l\u2019Inquisition.\n\u2014\u00abCela se peut, r\u00e9pondit-il. J\u2019ignore ce que feraient les Espagnols\nou les Italiens; mais je ne dirai pas qu\u2019ils en soient meilleurs\nchr\u00e9tiens pour cette rigueur: car ma conviction est qu\u2019il n\u2019y a point\nd\u2019h\u00e9r\u00e9sie dans un exc\u00e8s de charit\u00e9.\u00bb\nCHAPITRE IV\n     Dialogue touchant.\u2014Une nouvelle conversion.\u2014Bapt\u00eame de la femme\n     d\u2019Atkins.\u2014Encore un mariage.\u2014Partage d\u00e9finitif.\u2014D\u00e9couverte d\u2019une\n     Bible.\u2014Les tortures de la faim.\u2014Nouvelle aventure.\u2014Mort de\n     Vendredi.\u2014Retour au Br\u00e9sil.\nWill Atkins et sa femme \u00e9tant partis, nous n\u2019avions que faire en\nce lieu. Nous rebrouss\u00e2mes donc chemin; et, comme nous nous en\nretournions, nous les trouv\u00e2mes qui attendaient qu\u2019on les fit entrer.\nLorsque je les eus aper\u00e7us, je demandai \u00e0 mon eccl\u00e9siastique si\nnous devions ou non d\u00e9couvrir \u00e0 Atkins que nous l\u2019avions vu pr\u00e8s du\nbuisson. Il fut d\u2019avis que nous ne le devions pas, mais qu\u2019il fallait\nlui parler d\u2019abord et \u00e9couter ce qu\u2019il nous dirait. Nous l\u2019appel\u00e2mes\ndonc en particulier, et, personne n\u2019\u00e9tant l\u00e0 que nous-m\u00eames, je\nm\u2019entretins avec lui en ces termes:\n[Illustration: Nous l\u2019appel\u00e2mes donc en particulier...]\n     \u2014\u00abComment f\u00fbtes-vous \u00e9lev\u00e9, Will Atkins, je vous prie? Qu\u2019\u00e9tait\n     votre p\u00e8re?\u00bb\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Un meilleur homme que je ne serai jamais, sir; mon\n     p\u00e8re \u00e9tait un eccl\u00e9siastique.\n     ROBINSON CRUSO\u00c9.\u2014Quelle \u00e9ducation vous donna-t-il?\n     W. A.\u2014Il aurait d\u00e9sir\u00e9 me voir instruit, sir; mais je m\u00e9prisai\n     toute \u00e9ducation, instruction ou correction, comme une brute que\n     j\u2019\u00e9tais.\n     R. C.\u2014C\u2019est vrai, Salomon a dit:\u2014\u00abCELUI QUI REPOUSSE LE BL\u00c2ME EST\n     SEMBLABLE \u00c0 LA BRUTE.\u00bb\n     W. A.\u2014Ah! sir, j\u2019ai \u00e9t\u00e9 comme la brute en effet; j\u2019ai tu\u00e9 mon\n     p\u00e8re! pour l\u2019amour de Dieu, sir, ne me parlez point de cela, sir;\n     j\u2019ai assassin\u00e9 mon pauvre p\u00e8re!\n     LE PR\u00caTRE.\u2014Ha? un meurtrier?\nIci le pr\u00eatre tressaillit et devint p\u00e2le,\u2014car je lui traduisais mot\npour mot les paroles d\u2019Atkins. Il paraissait croire que Will avait\nr\u00e9ellement tu\u00e9 son p\u00e8re.\n     ROBINSON CRUSO\u00c9.\u2014Non, non, sir, je ne l\u2019entends pas ainsi. Mais,\n     Atkins, expliquez-vous: n\u2019est-ce pas que vous n\u2019avez pas tu\u00e9 votre\n     p\u00e8re de vos propres mains?\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Non, sir; je ne lui ai pas coup\u00e9 la gorge; mais\n     j\u2019ai tari la source de ses joies, mais j\u2019ai raccourci ses jours.\n     Je lui ai bris\u00e9 le c\u0153ur en payant de la plus noire ingratitude le\n     plus tendre et le plus affectueux traitement que jamais p\u00e8re ait\n     pu faire \u00e9prouver ou qu\u2019enfant ait jamais re\u00e7u.\n     R. C.\u2014C\u2019est bien. Je ne vous ai pas questionn\u00e9 sur votre p\u00e8re pour\n     vous arracher cet aveu. Je prie Dieu de vous en donner repentir\n     et de vous pardonner cela ainsi que tous vos autres p\u00e9ch\u00e9s. Je ne\n     vous ai fait cette question que parce que je vois, quoique vous ne\n     soyez pas tr\u00e8s docte, que vous n\u2019\u00eates pas aussi ignorant que tant\n     d\u2019autres dans la science du bien, et que vous en savez, en fait de\n     religion, beaucoup plus que vous n\u2019en avez pratiqu\u00e9.\n     W. A.\u2014Quand vous ne m\u2019auriez pas, sir, arrach\u00e9 la confession que\n     je viens de vous faire sur mon p\u00e8re, ma conscience l\u2019e\u00fbt faite.\n     Toutes les fois que nous venons \u00e0 jeter un regard en arri\u00e8re sur\n     notre vie, les p\u00e9ch\u00e9s contre nos indulgents parents sont certes,\n     parmi tous ceux que nous pouvons commettre, les premiers qui nous\n     touchent: les blessures qu\u2019ils font sont les plus profondes, et le\n     poids qu\u2019ils laissent p\u00e8se le plus lourdement sur le c\u0153ur.\n     R.C.\u2014Vous parlez, pour moi, avec trop de sentiment et de\n     sensibilit\u00e9, Atkins, je ne saurais le supporter.\n     W. A.\u2014Vous le pouvez, master! J\u2019ose croire que tout ceci vous est\n     \u00e9tranger.\n     R. C.\u2014Oui, Atkins, chaque rivage, chaque colline, je dirai m\u00eame\n     chaque arbre de cette \u00eele, est un t\u00e9moin des angoisses de mon \u00e2me\n     au ressentiment de mon ingratitude et de mon indigne conduite\n     envers un bon et tendre p\u00e8re, un p\u00e8re qui ressemblait beaucoup au\n     v\u00f4tre, d\u2019apr\u00e8s la peinture que vous en faites. Comme vous, Will\n     Atkins, j\u2019ai assassin\u00e9 mon p\u00e8re, mais je crois ma repentance de\n     beaucoup surpass\u00e9e par la v\u00f4tre.\nJ\u2019en aurais dit davantage si j\u2019eusse pu ma\u00eetriser mon agitation; mais\nle repentir de ce pauvre homme me semblait tellement plus profond\nque le mien, que je fus sur le point de briser l\u00e0 et de me retirer.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais stup\u00e9fait de ses paroles; je voyais que bien loin que je dusse\nremontrer et instruire cet homme, il \u00e9tait devenu pour moi un ma\u00eetre\net un pr\u00e9cepteur, et cela de la fa\u00e7on la plus surprenante et la plus\ninattendue.\nJ\u2019exposai tout ceci au jeune eccl\u00e9siastique, qui en fut grandement\np\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9, et me dit:\u2014\u00abEh bien, n\u2019avais-je pas pr\u00e9dit qu\u2019une fois que\ncet homme serait converti, il nous pr\u00eacherait tous? En v\u00e9rit\u00e9, sir,\nje vous le d\u00e9clare, si cet homme devient un vrai p\u00e9nitent, on n\u2019aura\npas besoin de moi ici; il fera des chr\u00e9tiens de tous les habitants de\nl\u2019\u00eele.\u00bb\u2014M\u2019\u00e9tant un peu remis de mon \u00e9motion, je renouai conversation\navec Will Atkins.\n     \u2014\u00abMais, Will, dis-je, d\u2019o\u00f9 vient que le sentiment de ces fautes\n     vous touche pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment \u00e0 cette heure?\u00bb\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Sir, vous m\u2019avez mis \u00e0 une \u0153uvre qui m\u2019a\n     transperc\u00e9 l\u2019\u00e2me. J\u2019ai parl\u00e9 \u00e0 ma femme de Dieu et de religion,\n     \u00e0 dessein, selon vos vues, de la faire chr\u00e9tienne, et elle m\u2019a\n     pr\u00each\u00e9, elle-m\u00eame, un sermon tel que je ne l\u2019oublierai de ma vie.\n     ROBINSON CRUSO\u00c9.\u2014Non, non, ce n\u2019est pas votre femme qui vous a\n     pr\u00each\u00e9; mais lorsque vous la pressiez de vos arguments religieux,\n     votre conscience les r\u00e9torquait contre vous.\n     W. A.\u2014Oh! oui, sir, et d\u2019une telle force que je n\u2019eusse pu y\n     r\u00e9sister.\n     R. C.\u2014Je vous en prie, Will, faites-nous conna\u00eetre ce qui se\n     passait entre vous et votre femme; j\u2019en sais quelque chose d\u00e9j\u00e0.\n     W. A.\u2014Sir, il me serait impossible de vous en donner un r\u00e9cit\n     parfait. J\u2019en suis trop plein pour le taire, cependant la parole\n     me manque pour l\u2019exprimer. Mais, quoi qu\u2019elle ait dit, et bien\n     que je ne puisse vous en rendre compte, je puis toutefois vous en\n     d\u00e9clarer ceci, que je suis r\u00e9solu \u00e0 m\u2019amender et \u00e0 r\u00e9former ma vie.\n     R. C.\u2014De gr\u00e2ce, dites-nous-en quelques mots. Comment\n     commen\u00e7\u00e2tes-vous, Will? Chose certaine, le cas a \u00e9t\u00e9\n     extraordinaire. C\u2019est effectivement un sermon qu\u2019elle vous a\n     pr\u00each\u00e9, si elle a op\u00e9r\u00e9 sur vous cet amendement.\n     W. A.\u2014Eh bien, je lui exposai d\u2019abord la nature de nos lois sur\n     le mariage, et les raisons pour lesquelles l\u2019homme et la femme\n     sont dans l\u2019obligation de former des n\u0153uds tels qu\u2019il ne soit\n     au pouvoir ni de l\u2019un ni de l\u2019autre de les rompre; qu\u2019autrement\n     l\u2019ordre et la justice ne pourraient \u00eatre maintenus; que les hommes\n     r\u00e9pudieraient leurs femmes et abandonneraient leurs enfants, pour\n     mener une vie d\u00e9r\u00e9gl\u00e9e, et que les familles ne pourraient se\n     perp\u00e9tuer ni les h\u00e9ritages se r\u00e9gler par une descendance l\u00e9gale.\n     R. C.\u2014Vous parlez comme un l\u00e9giste, Will. Mais p\u00fbtes-vous lui\n     faire comprendre ce que vous entendez par h\u00e9ritage et famille? On\n     ne sait rien de cela parmi les sauvages, on s\u2019y marie n\u2019importe\n     comment, sans avoir \u00e9gard \u00e0 la parent\u00e9, \u00e0 la consanguinit\u00e9 ou \u00e0 la\n     famille: le fr\u00e8re avec la s\u0153ur, et m\u00eame, comme il m\u2019a \u00e9t\u00e9 dit, le\n     p\u00e8re avec la fille, le fils avec la m\u00e8re.\n     W. A.\u2014Je crois, sir, que vous \u00eates mal inform\u00e9;\u2014ma femme m\u2019assure\n     le contraire, et qu\u2019ils ont horreur de cela. Peut-\u00eatre pour\n     quelques parent\u00e9s plus \u00e9loign\u00e9es ne sont-ils pas aussi rigides que\n     nous; mais elle m\u2019affirme qu\u2019il n\u2019y a point d\u2019alliance dans les\n     proches degr\u00e9s dont vous parlez.\n     R. C.\u2014Soit. Et que r\u00e9pondit-elle \u00e0 ce que vous lui disiez?\n     W. A.\u2014Elle r\u00e9pondit que cela lui semblait fort bien, et que\n     c\u2019\u00e9tait beaucoup mieux que dans son pays.\n     R. C.\u2014Mais lui avez-vous expliqu\u00e9 ce que c\u2019est que le mariage?\n     W. A.\u2014Oui, oui; l\u00e0 commen\u00e7a notre dialogue. Je lui demandai si\n     elle voulait se marier avec moi \u00e0 notre mani\u00e8re. Elle me demanda\n     de quelle mani\u00e8re c\u2019\u00e9tait. Je lui r\u00e9pondis que le mariage avait\n     \u00e9t\u00e9 institu\u00e9 par Dieu; et c\u2019est alors que nous e\u00fbmes ensemble en\n     v\u00e9rit\u00e9 le plus \u00e9trange entretien qu\u2019aient jamais eu mari et femme,\n     je crois.\n_N. B._ Voici ce dialogue entre W. Atkins et sa femme, tel que je le\ncouchai par \u00e9crit, imm\u00e9diatement apr\u00e8s qu\u2019il me le rapporta:\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Institu\u00e9 par votre Dieu! Comment! vous avoir un Dieu\n     dans votre pays?\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Oui, ma ch\u00e8re, Dieu est dans tous les pays.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pas votre Dieu dans mon pays; mon pays avoir le grand\n     vieux Dieu BENAMUCK\u00c9E.\n     W. A.\u2014Enfant, je ne suis pas assez habile pour vous d\u00e9montrer ce\n     que c\u2019est que Dieu: Dieu est dans le ciel, et il a fait le ciel et\n     la terre et la mer, et tout ce qui s\u2019y trouve.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pas fait la terre; votre Dieu pas fait la terre; pas\n     fait mon pays.\nWill Atkins sourit \u00e0 ces mots: que Dieu n\u2019avait pas fait son pays.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pas rire. Pourquoi me rire? \u00e7a pas chose \u00e0 rire.\nIl \u00e9tait bl\u00e2m\u00e9 \u00e0 bon droit; car elle se montrait plus grave que\nlui-m\u00eame d\u2019abord.\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014C\u2019est tr\u00e8s vrai. Je ne rirai plus, ma ch\u00e8re.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pourquoi vous dire, votre Dieu a fait tout?\n     W. A.\u2014Oui, enfant, notre Dieu a fait le monde entier, et vous,\n     et moi, et toutes choses; car il est le seul vrai Dieu. Il n\u2019y a\n     point d\u2019autre Dieu que lui. Il habite \u00e0 jamais dans le ciel.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pourquoi vous pas dire \u00e7a \u00e0 moi depuis longtemps?\n     W. A.\u2014C\u2019est vrai. En effet; mais j\u2019ai \u00e9t\u00e9 un grand mis\u00e9rable, et\n     j\u2019ai non seulement oubli\u00e9 jusqu\u2019ici de t\u2019instruire de tout cela,\n     mais encore j\u2019ai v\u00e9cu moi-m\u00eame comme s\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas de Dieu au\n     monde.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Quoi! vous avoir le grand Dieu dans votre pays; vous pas\n     conna\u00eetre lui? Pas dire: O! \u00e0 lui? Pas faire bonne chose pour lui?\n     \u00c7a pas possible!\n     W. A.\u2014Tout cela n\u2019est que trop vrai: nous vivons comme s\u2019il n\u2019y\n     avait pas un Dieu dans le ciel ou qu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt point de pouvoir sur\n     la terre.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Mais pourquoi Dieu laisse vous faire ainsi? Pourquoi lui\n     pas faire vous bien vivre?\n     W. A.\u2014C\u2019est enti\u00e8rement notre faute.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Mais vous dire \u00e0 moi, lui \u00eatre grand, beaucoup grand,\n     avoir beaucoup grand puissance; pouvoir faire tuer quand lui\n     vouloir: pourquoi lui pas faire tuer vous quand vous pas servir\n     lui? pas dire O! \u00e0 lui? pas \u00eatre bons hommes?\n     W. A.\u2014Tu dis vrai; il pourrait me frapper de mort, et je devrais\n     m\u2019y attendre, car j\u2019ai \u00e9t\u00e9 un profond mis\u00e9rable. Tu dis vrai;\n     mais Dieu est mis\u00e9ricordieux et ne nous traite pas comme nous le\n     m\u00e9ritons.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Mais alors vous pas dire \u00e0 Dieu merci pour cela?\n     W. A.\u2014Non, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je n\u2019ai pas plus remerci\u00e9 Dieu pour sa\n     mis\u00e9ricorde que je n\u2019ai redout\u00e9 Dieu pour son pouvoir.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Alors votre Dieu pas Dieu; moi non penser, moi non\n     croire lui \u00eatre un tel grand beaucoup pouvoir, fort; puisque pas\n     faire tuer vous, quoique vous faire lui beaucoup col\u00e8re?\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Quoi! ma coupable vie vous emp\u00eacherait-elle de\n     croire en Dieu? Quelle affreuse cr\u00e9ature je suis! Et quelle triste\n     v\u00e9rit\u00e9 est celle-l\u00e0: que la vie inf\u00e2me des chr\u00e9tiens emp\u00eache la\n     conversion des idol\u00e2tres?\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Comment! moi penser vous avoir grand beaucoup Dieu\n     l\u00e0-haut,\u2014du doigt elle montrait le ciel,\u2014et cependant pas faire\n     bien, pas faire bonne chose? Pouvoir lui savoir? S\u00fbrement lui pas\n     savoir quoi vous faire?\n     W. A.\u2014Oui, oui, il conna\u00eet et voit toutes choses; il nous entend\n     parler, voit ce que nous faisons, sait ce que nous pensons, m\u00eame\n     quand nous ne parlons pas.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Non! lui pas entendre vous maudire, vous jurer, vous\n     dire le grand _god-damn_!\n     W. A.\u2014Si, si, il entend tout cela.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014O\u00f9 \u00eatre alors son grand pouvoir fort?\n     W. A.\u2014Il est mis\u00e9ricordieux: c\u2019est tout ce que nous pouvons dire;\n     et cela prouve qu\u2019il est le vrai Dieu. Il est Dieu et non homme;\n     et c\u2019est pour cela que nous ne sommes point an\u00e9antis.\nWill Atkins nous dit ici qu\u2019il \u00e9tait saisi d\u2019horreur en pensant\ncomment il avait pu annoncer si clairement \u00e0 sa femme que Dieu voit,\nentend et conna\u00eet les secr\u00e8tes pens\u00e9es du c\u0153ur, et tout ce que nous\nfaisons, encore qu\u2019il e\u00fbt os\u00e9 commettre toutes les m\u00e9prisables choses\ndont il \u00e9tait coupable.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Mis\u00e9ricordieux! quoi vous appeler \u00e7a?\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Il est notre p\u00e8re et notre cr\u00e9ateur; il a piti\u00e9 de\n     nous et nous \u00e9pargne.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Ainsi donc lui jamais faire tuer, jamais col\u00e8re quand\n     faire m\u00e9chant; alors lui pas bon lui-m\u00eame ou pas grand capable?\n     W. A.\u2014Si, si, ma ch\u00e8re, il est infiniment bon et infiniment grand\n     et capable de punir. Souventes fois m\u00eame, afin de donner des\n     preuves de sa justice et de sa vengeance, il laisse sa col\u00e8re se\n     r\u00e9pandre pour d\u00e9truire les p\u00e9cheurs et faire un exemple. Beaucoup\n     m\u00eame sont frapp\u00e9s au milieu de leurs crimes.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Mais pas faire tuer vous cependant. Donc vous lui dire,\n     peut-\u00eatre, que lui pas faire tuer vous? Donc vous faire le march\u00e9\n     avec lui, vous commettre mauvaises choses; lui pas \u00eatre en col\u00e8re\n     contre vous, quand lui \u00eatre col\u00e8re contre les autres hommes?\n     W. A.\u2014Non, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s ne proviennent que d\u2019une\n     confiance pr\u00e9somptueuse en sa bont\u00e9; et il serait infiniment\n     juste, s\u2019il me d\u00e9truisait comme il a d\u00e9truit d\u2019autres hommes.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Bien. N\u00e9anmoins pas tuer, pas faire vous mort! Que vous\n     dire \u00e0 lui pour \u00e7a! Vous pas dire \u00e0 lui: merci pour tout \u00e7a?\n     W. A.\u2014Je suis un chien d\u2019ingrat, voil\u00e0 le fait.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pourquoi lui pas faire vous beaucoup bon meilleur? Vous\n     dire lui faire vous.\n     W. A.\u2014Il m\u2019a cr\u00e9\u00e9 comme il a cr\u00e9\u00e9 tout le monde; c\u2019est moi-m\u00eame\n     qui me suis d\u00e9prav\u00e9, qui ai abus\u00e9 de sa bont\u00e9, et qui ai fait de\n     moi un \u00eatre abominable.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Moi d\u00e9sirer vous faire Dieu conna\u00eetre \u00e0 moi. Moi pas\n     faire lui col\u00e8re. Moi pas faire mauvaise m\u00e9chante chose.\nIci Will Atkins nous dit que son c\u0153ur lui avait d\u00e9failli en entendant\nune pauvre et ignorante cr\u00e9ature exprimer le d\u00e9sir d\u2019\u00eatre amen\u00e9e \u00e0\nla connaissance de Dieu, tandis que lui, mis\u00e9rable, ne pouvait lui\nen dire un mot auquel l\u2019ignominie de sa conduite ne la d\u00e9tourn\u00e2t\nd\u2019ajouter foi. D\u00e9j\u00e0 m\u00eame elle s\u2019\u00e9tait refus\u00e9e \u00e0 croire en Dieu, parce\nque lui qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 si m\u00e9chant n\u2019\u00e9tait pas an\u00e9anti.\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Sans doute, ma ch\u00e8re, vous voulez dire que vous\n     souhaitez que je vous enseigne \u00e0 conna\u00eetre Dieu et non pas que\n     j\u2019apprenne \u00e0 Dieu \u00e0 vous conna\u00eetre; car il vous conna\u00eet d\u00e9j\u00e0, vous\n     et chaque pens\u00e9e de votre c\u0153ur.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Ainsi donc lui savoir ce que moi dire \u00e0 vous maintenant;\n     lui savoir moi d\u00e9sirer de conna\u00eetre lui. Comment moi conna\u00eetre\n     celui qui cr\u00e9er moi?\n     W. A.\u2014Pauvre cr\u00e9ature! Il faut qu\u2019il t\u2019enseigne, lui, moi je ne\n     puis t\u2019enseigner. Je le prierai de t\u2019apprendre \u00e0 le conna\u00eetre et\n     de me pardonner, \u00e0 moi, qui suis indigne de t\u2019instruire.\nLe pauvre gar\u00e7on fut tellement aux abois quand sa femme lui exprima\nle d\u00e9sir d\u2019\u00eatre amen\u00e9e par lui \u00e0 la science de Dieu, quand elle forma\nle souhait de conna\u00eetre Dieu, qu\u2019il tomba \u00e0 genoux devant elle, nous\ndit-il, et pria le Seigneur d\u2019illuminer son esprit par la connaissance\nsalutaire de J\u00e9sus-Christ, de lui pardonner \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame ses p\u00e9ch\u00e9s\net de l\u2019accepter comme un indigne instrument pour instruire cette\nidol\u00e2tre dans les principes de la religion. Apr\u00e8s quoi il s\u2019assit de\nnouveau pr\u00e8s d\u2019elle et leur dialogue se poursuivit.\n     _N. B._ C\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 le moment o\u00f9 nous l\u2019avions vu s\u2019agenouiller et\n     lever les mains vers le ciel.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pourquoi vous mettre les genoux \u00e0 terre? Pourquoi vous\n     lever en haut les mains? Quoi vous dire? A qui vous parler? Quoi\n     est tout \u00e7a?\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Ma ch\u00e8re, je ploie les genoux en signe de\n     soumission envers celui qui m\u2019a cr\u00e9\u00e9. Je lui ai dit: O! comme vous\n     appelez cela et comme vous racontez que font vos vieillards \u00e0 leur\n     idole Benamuck\u00e9e, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que je l\u2019ai pri\u00e9.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pourquoi vous dire: O! \u00e0 lui?\n     W. A.\u2014Je l\u2019ai pri\u00e9 d\u2019ouvrir vos yeux et votre entendement, afin\n     que vous puissiez le conna\u00eetre et lui \u00eatre agr\u00e9able.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Pouvoir lui faire \u00e7a aussi?\n     W. A.\u2014Oui, il le peut; il peut faire toutes choses.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Mais lui pas entendre quoi vous dire?\n     W. A.\u2014Si, Il nous a command\u00e9 de le prier et promis de nous \u00e9couter.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Command\u00e9 vous prier! Quand lui commander vous? Comment\n     lui commander vous? Quoi! vous entendre lui parler?\n     W. A.\u2014Non, nous ne l\u2019entendons point parler; mais il s\u2019est r\u00e9v\u00e9l\u00e9\n     \u00e0 nous de diff\u00e9rentes mani\u00e8res.\nIci Atkins fut tr\u00e8s embarrass\u00e9 pour lui faire comprendre que Dieu\ns\u2019est r\u00e9v\u00e9l\u00e9 \u00e0 nous par sa parole, et ce que c\u2019est que sa parole; mais\nenfin il poursuivit ainsi:\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Dieu, dans les premiers temps, a parl\u00e9 \u00e0 quelques\n     hommes bons du haut du ciel, en termes formels; puis Dieu a\n     inspir\u00e9 des hommes bons par son Esprit, et ils ont \u00e9crit toutes\n     ses lois dans un livre.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Moi pas comprendre \u00e7a. O\u00f9 est ce livre?\n     W. A.\u2014H\u00e9las! ma pauvre cr\u00e9ature, je n\u2019ai pas ce livre; mais\n     j\u2019esp\u00e8re un jour ou l\u2019autre l\u2019acqu\u00e9rir pour vous et vous le faire\n     lire.\nC\u2019est ici qu\u2019il l\u2019embrassa avec beaucoup de tendresse, mais avec\nl\u2019inexprimable regret de n\u2019avoir pas de Bible.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Mais comment vous faire moi conna\u00eetre que Dieu enseigner\n     eux \u00e0 \u00e9crire ce livre?\n     WILLIAM ATKINS.\u2014Par la m\u00eame d\u00e9monstration par laquelle nous savons\n     qu\u2019il est Dieu.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Quelle d\u00e9monstration? quel moyen vous savoir?\n     W. A.\u2014Parce qu\u2019il enseigne et ne commande rien qui ne soit bon,\n     juste, saint, et ne tende \u00e0 nous rendre parfaitement bons et\n     parfaitement heureux, et parce qu\u2019il nous d\u00e9fend et nous enjoint\n     de fuir tout ce qui est mal, mauvais en soi ou mauvais dans ses\n     cons\u00e9quences.\n     LA FEMME.\u2014Que moi voudrais comprendre, que moi volontiers\n     conna\u00eetre! Si lui r\u00e9compenser toute bonne chose, punir toute\n     m\u00e9chante chose, d\u00e9fendre toute m\u00e9chante chose, lui, faire toute\n     chose, lui, donner toute chose, lui entendre moi quand moi dire:\n     O! \u00e0 lui, comme vous venir de faire juste \u00e0 pr\u00e9sent; lui faire moi\n     bonne, si moi d\u00e9sire \u00eatre bonne; lui \u00e9pargner moi, pas faire tuer\n     moi, quand moi pas \u00eatre bonne, si tout ce que vous dire lui faire;\n     oui, lui \u00eatre grand Dieu; moi prendre, penser, croire lui \u00eatre\n     grand Dieu; moi dire: O! aussi \u00e0 lui, avec vous, mon cher.\nIci le pauvre homme nous dit qu\u2019il n\u2019avait pu se contenir plus\nlongtemps; mais que, prenant sa femme par la main, il l\u2019avait fait\nmettre \u00e0 genoux pr\u00e8s de lui et qu\u2019il avait pri\u00e9 Dieu \u00e0 haute voix de\nl\u2019instruire dans la connaissance de lui-m\u00eame par son divin Esprit, et\nde faire par un coup heureux de sa providence, s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible,\nque t\u00f4t ou tard elle vint \u00e0 poss\u00e9der une Bible, afin qu\u2019elle p\u00fbt lire\nla parole de Dieu et par l\u00e0 apprendre \u00e0 le conna\u00eetre.\n[Illustration: Il l\u2019avait fait mettre \u00e0 genoux...]\nC\u2019est en ce moment que nous l\u2019avions vu lui offrir la main et\ns\u2019agenouiller aupr\u00e8s d\u2019elle, comme il a \u00e9t\u00e9 dit.\nIls se dirent encore apr\u00e8s ceci beaucoup d\u2019autres choses qu\u2019il serait\ntrop long, ce me semble, de rapporter ici. Entre autres elle lui\nfit promettre, puisque de son propre aveu sa vie n\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 qu\u2019une\nsuite criminelle et abominable de provocations contre Dieu, de la\nr\u00e9former, de ne plus irriter Dieu, de peur qu\u2019il ne voul\u00fbt\u2014\u00abfaire lui\nmort\u00bb,\u2014selon sa propre expression; qu\u2019alors elle ne rest\u00e2t seule et\nne p\u00fbt apprendre \u00e0 conna\u00eetre plus particuli\u00e8rement ce Dieu, et qu\u2019il\nne f\u00fbt mis\u00e9rable, comme il lui avait dit que les hommes m\u00e9chants le\nseraient apr\u00e8s leur mort.\nCe r\u00e9cit nous parut vraiment \u00e9trange et nous \u00e9mut beaucoup l\u2019un et\nl\u2019autre, surtout le jeune eccl\u00e9siastique. Il en fut, lui, \u00e9merveill\u00e9;\nmais il ressentit la plus vive douleur de ne pouvoir parler \u00e0 la\nfemme, de ne pouvoir parler anglais pour s\u2019en faire entendre, et comme\nelle \u00e9corchait impitoyablement l\u2019anglais, de ne pouvoir la comprendre\nelle-m\u00eame. Toutefois il se tourna vers moi, et me dit qu\u2019il croyait\nque pour elle il y avait quelque chose de plus \u00e0 faire que de la\nmarier. Je ne le compris pas d\u2019abord; mais enfin il s\u2019expliqua: il\nentendait par l\u00e0 qu\u2019elle devait \u00eatre baptis\u00e9e.\nJ\u2019adh\u00e9rai \u00e0 cela avec joie; et comme je m\u2019y empressais:\u2014\u00abNon, non,\narr\u00eatez, sir, me dit-il; bien que j\u2019aie fort \u00e0 c\u0153ur de la voir\nbaptis\u00e9e, cependant tout en reconnaissant que Will Atkins, son mari,\nl\u2019a vraiment amen\u00e9e d\u2019une fa\u00e7on miraculeuse \u00e0 souhaiter d\u2019embrasser\nune vie religieuse, et \u00e0 lui donner de justes id\u00e9es de l\u2019existence\nd\u2019un Dieu, de son pouvoir, de sa justice, de sa mis\u00e9ricorde, je\nd\u00e9sire savoir de lui s\u2019il lui a dit quelque chose de J\u00e9sus-Christ et\ndu salut des p\u00e9cheurs; de la nature de notre foi en lui, et de notre\nr\u00e9demption; du Saint-Esprit, de la r\u00e9surrection, du jugement dernier\net d\u2019une vie future.\u00bb\nJe rappelai Will Atkins, et je le lui demandai. Le pauvre gar\u00e7on\nfondit en larmes et nous dit qu\u2019il lui en avait bien touch\u00e9 quelques\nparoles; mais qu\u2019il \u00e9tait lui-m\u00eame une si m\u00e9chante cr\u00e9ature et que sa\nconscience lui reprochait si vivement sa vie horrible et impie, qu\u2019il\navait trembl\u00e9 que la connaissance qu\u2019elle avait de lui n\u2019att\u00e9nu\u00e2t\nl\u2019attention qu\u2019elle devait donner \u00e0 ces choses, et ne la port\u00e2t plut\u00f4t\n\u00e0 m\u00e9priser la religion qu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019embrasser. N\u00e9anmoins il \u00e9tait certain,\nnous dit-il, que son esprit \u00e9tait si dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 recevoir d\u2019heureuses\nimpressions de toutes ces v\u00e9rit\u00e9s, que si je voulais bien l\u2019en\nentretenir, elle ferait voir, \u00e0 ma grande satisfaction, que mes peines\nne seraient point perdues sur elle.\nEn cons\u00e9quence je la fis venir; et, me pla\u00e7ant comme interpr\u00e8te entre\nelle et mon pieux eccl\u00e9siastique, je le priai d\u2019entrer en mati\u00e8re.\nOr, s\u00fbrement jamais pareil sermon n\u2019a \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00each\u00e9 par un pr\u00eatre\npapiste dans ces derniers si\u00e8cles du monde. Aussi lui dis-je que je\nlui trouvais tout le z\u00e8le, toute la science, toute la sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 d\u2019un\nchr\u00e9tien, sans les erreurs d\u2019un catholique romain, et que je croyais\nvoir en lui un pasteur tel qu\u2019avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 les \u00e9v\u00eaques de Rome avant\nque l\u2019\u00c9glise romaine se f\u00fbt r\u00e9serv\u00e9 la souverainet\u00e9 spirituelle sur\nles consciences humaines.\nEn un mot, il amena la pauvre femme \u00e0 embrasser la connaissance du\nChrist et de notre r\u00e9demption, non seulement avec admiration, avec\n\u00e9tonnement, comme elle avait accueilli les premi\u00e8res notions de\nl\u2019existence d\u2019un Dieu, mais encore avec joie, avec foi, avec une\nferveur et un degr\u00e9 surprenant d\u2019intelligence presque inimaginables\net tout \u00e0 fait indicibles. Finalement, \u00e0 sa propre requ\u00eate, elle fut\nbaptis\u00e9e.\nTandis qu\u2019il se pr\u00e9parait \u00e0 lui conf\u00e9rer le bapt\u00eame, je le suppliai\nde vouloir bien accomplir cet office avec quelques pr\u00e9cautions, afin,\ns\u2019il \u00e9tait possible, que l\u2019homme ne p\u00fbt s\u2019apercevoir qu\u2019il appartenait\n\u00e0 l\u2019\u00c9glise romaine, \u00e0 cause des f\u00e2cheuses cons\u00e9quences qui pourraient\nr\u00e9sulter d\u2019une dissidence entre nous dans cette religion m\u00eame o\u00f9 nous\ninstruisions les autres. Il me r\u00e9pondit que, n\u2019ayant ni chapelle\nconsacr\u00e9e ni choses propres \u00e0 cette c\u00e9l\u00e9bration, il officierait d\u2019une\ntelle mani\u00e8re que je ne pourrais reconna\u00eetre moi-m\u00eame qu\u2019il \u00e9tait\ncatholique romain si je ne le savais d\u00e9j\u00e0. Et c\u2019est ce qu\u2019il fit:\ncar, apr\u00e8s avoir marmonn\u00e9 en latin quelques paroles que je ne pus\ncomprendre, il versa un plein vase d\u2019eau sur la t\u00eate de la femme,\ndisant en fran\u00e7ais d\u2019une voix haute:\u2014\u00abMarie!\u00bb\u2014C\u2019\u00e9tait le nom que son\n\u00e9poux avait souhait\u00e9 que je lui donnasse, car j\u2019\u00e9tais son parrain.\u2014\u00abJe\nte baptise au nom du P\u00e8re, et du Fils et du Saint-Esprit.\u00bb\u2014De sorte\nqu\u2019on ne pouvait deviner par l\u00e0 de quelle religion il \u00e9tait. Ensuite\nil donna la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction en latin; mais Will Atkins ne sut pas si\nc\u2019\u00e9tait en fran\u00e7ais, ou ne prit point garde \u00e0 cela en ce moment.\nSit\u00f4t cette c\u00e9r\u00e9monie termin\u00e9e, il les maria; puis, les \u00e9pousailles\nfaites, il se tourna vers Will Atkins et l\u2019exhorta d\u2019une mani\u00e8re tr\u00e8s\npressante, non seulement \u00e0 pers\u00e9v\u00e9rer dans ses bonnes dispositions,\nmais \u00e0 corroborer les convictions dont il \u00e9tait p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 par une ferme\nr\u00e9solution de r\u00e9former sa vie. Il lui d\u00e9clara que c\u2019\u00e9tait chose\nvaine que de dire qu\u2019il se repentait, s\u2019il n\u2019abjurait ses crimes.\nIl lui repr\u00e9senta combien Dieu l\u2019avait honor\u00e9 en le choisissant\ncomme instrument pour amener sa femme \u00e0 la connaissance de la\nreligion chr\u00e9tienne, et combien il devait \u00eatre soigneux de ne pas\nse montrer rebelle \u00e0 la gr\u00e2ce de Dieu; qu\u2019autrement il verrait la\npa\u00efenne meilleure chr\u00e9tienne que lui, la sauvage \u00e9lue et l\u2019instrument\nr\u00e9prouv\u00e9.\nIl leur dit encore \u00e0 tous deux une foule d\u2019excellentes choses; puis,\nles recommandant en peu de mots \u00e0 la bont\u00e9 divine, il leur donna\nde nouveau la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction: moi, comme interpr\u00e8te, leur traduisant\ntoujours chaque chose en anglais. Ainsi se termina la c\u00e9r\u00e9monie. Ce\nfut bien pour moi la plus charmante, la plus agr\u00e9able journ\u00e9e que\nj\u2019aie jamais pass\u00e9e dans toute ma vie.\nOr mon religieux n\u2019en avait pas encore fini. Ses pens\u00e9es se\nreportaient sans cesse \u00e0 la conversion des trente-sept sauvages,\net volontiers il serait rest\u00e9 dans l\u2019\u00eele pour l\u2019entreprendre. Mais\nje le convainquis premi\u00e8rement qu\u2019en soi cette entreprise \u00e9tait\nimpraticable, et secondement que je pourrais peut-\u00eatre la mettre en\nvoie d\u2019\u00eatre termin\u00e9e \u00e0 sa satisfaction durant son absence: ce dont je\nparlerai tout \u00e0 l\u2019heure.\nAyant ainsi mis \u00e0 fond les affaires de l\u2019\u00eele, je me pr\u00e9parais \u00e0\nretourner \u00e0 bord du navire, quand le jeune homme que j\u2019avais recueilli\nd\u2019entre l\u2019\u00e9quipage affam\u00e9 vint \u00e0 moi et me dit qu\u2019il avait appris que\nj\u2019avais un eccl\u00e9siastique et que j\u2019avais mari\u00e9 par son office les\nAnglais avec les femmes sauvages qu\u2019ils nommaient leurs \u00e9pouses, et\nque lui-m\u00eame avait aussi un projet de mariage entre deux chr\u00e9tiens\nqu\u2019il d\u00e9sirait voir s\u2019accomplir avant mon d\u00e9part, ce qui, esp\u00e9rait-il,\nne me serait point d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able.\nJe compris de suite qu\u2019il \u00e9tait question de la jeune fille servante\nde sa m\u00e8re; car il n\u2019y avait point d\u2019autre femme chr\u00e9tienne dans\nl\u2019\u00eele. Aussi commen\u00e7ai-je \u00e0 le dissuader de faire une chose pareille\ninconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment, et parce qu\u2019il se trouvait dans une situation\nisol\u00e9e. Je lui repr\u00e9sentai qu\u2019il avait par le monde une fortune assez\nconsid\u00e9rable et de bons amis, comme je le tenais de lui-m\u00eame et de\nla jeune fille aussi; que cette fille \u00e9tait non seulement pauvre et\nservante, mais encore d\u2019un \u00e2ge disproportionn\u00e9, puisqu\u2019elle avait\nvingt-six ou vingt-sept ans, et lui pas plus de dix-sept ou dix-huit;\nque tr\u00e8s probablement il lui serait possible, avec mon assistance,\nde se tirer de ce d\u00e9sert et de retourner dans sa patrie; qu\u2019alors il\ny avait mille \u00e0 parier contre un qu\u2019il se repentirait de son choix,\net que le d\u00e9go\u00fbt de sa position leur serait pr\u00e9judiciable \u00e0 tous\ndeux. J\u2019allais m\u2019\u00e9tendre bien davantage; mais il m\u2019interrompit en\nsouriant et me dit avec beaucoup de candeur que je me trompais dans\nmes conjectures, qu\u2019il n\u2019avait rien de pareil en t\u00eate, sa situation\npr\u00e9sente \u00e9tant d\u00e9j\u00e0 assez triste et d\u00e9plorable; qu\u2019il \u00e9tait charm\u00e9\nd\u2019apprendre que j\u2019avais quelque d\u00e9sir de le mettre \u00e0 m\u00eame de revoir\nson pays; que rien n\u2019aurait pu l\u2019engager \u00e0 rester en ce lieu si le\nvoyage que j\u2019allais poursuivre n\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 si effroyablement long et\nsi hasardeux, et ne l\u2019e\u00fbt jet\u00e9 si loin de tous ses amis; qu\u2019il ne\nsouhaitait rien de moi, sinon que je voulusse bien lui assigner une\npetite propri\u00e9t\u00e9 dans mon \u00eele, lui donner un serviteur ou deux et\nles choses n\u00e9cessaires pour qu\u2019il p\u00fbt s\u2019y \u00e9tablir comme planteur,\nen attendant l\u2019heureux moment o\u00f9, si je retournais en Angleterre, je\npourrais le d\u00e9livrer, plein de l\u2019esp\u00e9rance que je ne l\u2019oublierais\npas quand j\u2019y serais revenu; enfin qu\u2019il me remettrait quelques\nlettres pour ses amis \u00e0 Londres, afin de leur faire savoir combien\nj\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 bon pour lui, et dans quel lieu du monde et dans quelle\nsituation je l\u2019avais laiss\u00e9. Il me promettait, disait-il, lorsque je\nle d\u00e9livrerais, que la plantation dans l\u2019\u00e9tat d\u2019am\u00e9lioration o\u00f9 il\nl\u2019aurait port\u00e9e, quelle qu\u2019en p\u00fbt \u00eatre la valeur, deviendrait tout \u00e0\nfait mienne.\nSon discours \u00e9tait fort bien tourn\u00e9 eu \u00e9gard \u00e0 sa jeunesse, et me fut\nsurtout agr\u00e9able parce qu\u2019il m\u2019apprenait positivement que le mariage\nen vue ne le concernait point lui-m\u00eame. Je lui donnai toutes les\nassurances possibles que, si j\u2019arrivais \u00e0 bon port en Angleterre, je\nremettrais ses lettres et m\u2019occuperais s\u00e9rieusement de ses affaires,\net qu\u2019il pouvait compter que je n\u2019oublierais point dans quelle\nsituation je le laissais; mais j\u2019\u00e9tais toujours impatient de savoir\nquels \u00e9taient les personnages \u00e0 marier. Il me dit enfin que c\u2019\u00e9tait\nmon Jack-bon-\u00e0-tout et sa servante Suzan.\nJe fus fort agr\u00e9ablement surpris quand il me nomma le couple; car\nvraiment il me semblait bien assorti. J\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 trac\u00e9 le caract\u00e8re\nde l\u2019homme; quant \u00e0 la servante, c\u2019\u00e9tait une jeune femme tr\u00e8s\nhonn\u00eate, modeste, r\u00e9serv\u00e9e et pieuse. Dou\u00e9e de beaucoup de sens,\nelle \u00e9tait assez agr\u00e9able de sa personne, s\u2019exprimait fort bien\net \u00e0 propos, toujours avec d\u00e9cence et bonne gr\u00e2ce, et n\u2019\u00e9tait ni\nlente \u00e0 parler quand quelque chose le requ\u00e9rait, ni impertinemment\nempress\u00e9e quand cela ne la regardait point; tr\u00e8s adroite d\u2019ailleurs,\nfort entendue dans tout ce qui la concernait, excellente m\u00e9nag\u00e8re\net capable en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 d\u2019\u00eatre la gouvernante de l\u2019\u00eele enti\u00e8re. Elle\nsavait parfaitement se conduire avec les gens de toute sorte qui\nl\u2019entouraient, et n\u2019e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 plus emprunt\u00e9e avec des gens du bel\nair, s\u2019il s\u2019en f\u00fbt trouv\u00e9 l\u00e0.\nLes accordailles \u00e9tant faites de cette mani\u00e8re, nous les mari\u00e2mes le\njour m\u00eame; et comme \u00e0 l\u2019autel, pour ainsi dire, je servais de p\u00e8re\n\u00e0 cette fille, et que je la pr\u00e9sentais, je lui constituai une dot:\nje lui assignai, \u00e0 elle et \u00e0 son mari, une belle et vaste \u00e9tendue\nde terre pour leur plantation. Ce mariage et la proposition que le\njeune gentleman m\u2019avait faite de lui conc\u00e9der une petite propri\u00e9t\u00e9\ndans l\u2019\u00eele, me donn\u00e8rent l\u2019id\u00e9e de la partager entre ses habitants,\nafin qu\u2019ils ne pussent par la suite se quereller au sujet de leur\nemplacement.\n[Illustration: Nous les mari\u00e2mes le jour m\u00eame.]\nJe remis le soin de ce partage \u00e0 Will Atkins, qui vraiment alors\n\u00e9tait devenu un homme sage, grave, m\u00e9nager, compl\u00e8tement r\u00e9form\u00e9,\nexcessivement pieux et religieux, et qui, autant qu\u2019il peut m\u2019\u00eatre\npermis de prononcer en pareil cas, \u00e9tait, je le crois fermement, un\np\u00e9nitent sinc\u00e8re.\nIl s\u2019acquitta de cette r\u00e9partition avec tant d\u2019\u00e9quit\u00e9 et tellement \u00e0\nla satisfaction de chacun, qu\u2019ils d\u00e9sir\u00e8rent seulement pour le tout\nun acte g\u00e9n\u00e9ral de ma main que je fis dresser et que je signai et\nscellai. Ce contrat, d\u00e9terminant la situation et les limites de chaque\nplantation, certifiait que je leur accordais la possession absolue\net h\u00e9r\u00e9ditaire des plantations ou fermes respectives et de leurs\nd\u00e9pendances, \u00e0 eux et \u00e0 leurs h\u00e9ritiers, me r\u00e9servant tout le reste de\nl\u2019\u00eele comme ma propri\u00e9t\u00e9 particuli\u00e8re, et par chaque plantation une\ncertaine redevance payable au bout de onze ann\u00e9es \u00e0 moi ou \u00e0 quiconque\nde ma part ou en mon nom viendrait la r\u00e9clamer et produirait une copie\nl\u00e9galis\u00e9e de cette concession.\nQuant au mode de gouvernement et aux lois \u00e0 introduire parmi eux,\nje leur dis que je ne saurais leur donner de meilleurs r\u00e8glements\nque ceux qu\u2019ils pouvaient s\u2019imposer eux-m\u00eames. Seulement je leur fis\npromettre de vivre en amiti\u00e9 et en bon voisinage les uns avec les\nautres. Et je me pr\u00e9parai \u00e0 les quitter.\nUne chose que je ne dois point passer sous silence, c\u2019est que, nos\ncolons \u00e9tant alors constitu\u00e9s en une sorte de r\u00e9publique et surcharg\u00e9s\nde travaux, il \u00e9tait mals\u00e9ant que trente-sept Indiens v\u00e9cussent dans\nun coin de l\u2019\u00eele ind\u00e9pendants et inoccup\u00e9s; car, except\u00e9 de pourvoir\n\u00e0 leur nourriture, ce qui n\u2019\u00e9tait pas toujours sans difficult\u00e9, ils\nn\u2019avaient aucune esp\u00e8ce d\u2019affaire ou de propri\u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 administrer. Aussi\nproposai-je au gouverneur espagnol d\u2019aller les trouver avec le p\u00e8re\nde Vendredi et de leur offrir de se disperser et de planter pour leur\ncompte, ou d\u2019\u00eatre associ\u00e9s aux diff\u00e9rentes familles comme serviteurs,\net entretenus pour leur travail, sans \u00eatre toutefois absolument\nesclaves; car je n\u2019aurais pas voulu souffrir qu\u2019on les soum\u00eet \u00e0\nl\u2019esclavage, ni par la force ni par nulle autre voie, parce que leur\nlibert\u00e9 leur avait \u00e9t\u00e9 octroy\u00e9e par capitulation, et qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait un\narticle de reddition, chose que l\u2019honneur d\u00e9fend de violer.\nIls adh\u00e9r\u00e8rent volontiers \u00e0 la proposition et suivirent tous de grand\nc\u0153ur le gouverneur espagnol. Nous leur d\u00e9part\u00eemes donc des terres et\ndes plantations; trois ou quatre d\u2019entre eux en accept\u00e8rent, mais\ntous les autres pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e8rent \u00eatre employ\u00e9s comme serviteurs dans les\ndiverses familles que nous avions fond\u00e9es; et ainsi ma colonie fut\n\u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s \u00e9tablie comme il suit: les Espagnols poss\u00e9daient mon\nhabitation primitive, laquelle \u00e9tait la ville capitale, et avaient\n\u00e9tendu leur plantation tout le long du ruisseau qui formait la crique\ndont j\u2019ai si souvent parl\u00e9, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ma tonnelle; en accroissant leurs\ncultures, ils poussaient toujours \u00e0 l\u2019est. Les Anglais habitaient\ndans la partie nord-est, o\u00f9 Will Atkins et ses compagnons s\u2019\u00e9taient\nfix\u00e9s tout d\u2019abord, et s\u2019avan\u00e7aient au sud et au sud-ouest en de\u00e7\u00e0 des\npossessions des Espagnols. Chaque plantation avait au besoin un grand\nsuppl\u00e9ment de terrain \u00e0 sa disposition, de sorte qu\u2019il ne pouvait y\navoir lieu de se chamailler par manque de place.\nToute la pointe occidentale de l\u2019\u00eele fut laiss\u00e9e inhabit\u00e9e, afin que\nsi quelques sauvages y abordaient seulement pour y consommer leurs\nbarbaries accoutum\u00e9es, ils pussent aller et venir librement; s\u2019ils ne\nvexaient personne, personne n\u2019avait envie de les vexer. Sans doute ils\ny d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent souvent, mais ils s\u2019en retourn\u00e8rent, sans plus; car je\nn\u2019ai jamais entendu dire que mes planteurs eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 attaqu\u00e9s et\ntroubl\u00e9s davantage.\nIl me revint alors \u00e0 l\u2019esprit que j\u2019avais insinu\u00e9 \u00e0 mon ami\nl\u2019eccl\u00e9siastique que l\u2019\u0153uvre de la conversion de nos sauvages pourrait\npeut-\u00eatre s\u2019accomplir en son absence et \u00e0 sa satisfaction; et je lui\ndis que je la croyais \u00e0 cette heure en beau chemin; car ces Indiens\n\u00e9tant ainsi r\u00e9partis parmi les chr\u00e9tiens, si chacun de ceux-ci voulait\nfaire son devoir aupr\u00e8s de ceux qui se trouvaient sous sa main,\nj\u2019esp\u00e9rais que cela pourrait avoir un fort bon r\u00e9sultat.\nIl en tomba d\u2019accord d\u2019embl\u00e9e:\u2014\u00abSi toutefois, dit-il, ils voulaient\nfaire leur devoir; mais comment, ajouta-t-il, obtiendrons-nous cela\nd\u2019eux?\u00bb\u2014Je lui r\u00e9pondis que nous les manderions tous ensemble, et leur\nen imposerions la charge, ou bien que nous irions les trouver chacun\nen particulier, ce qu\u2019il jugea pr\u00e9f\u00e9rable. Nous nous partage\u00e2mes donc\nla t\u00e2che, lui pour en parler aux Espagnols qui \u00e9taient tous papistes,\net moi aux Anglais qui \u00e9taient tous protestants; et nous leur\nrecommand\u00e2mes instamment et leur f\u00eemes promettre de ne jamais \u00e9tablir\naucune distinction de catholiques ou de r\u00e9form\u00e9s, en exhortant les\nsauvages \u00e0 se faire chr\u00e9tiens, mais de leur donner une connaissance\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale du vrai Dieu et de J\u00e9sus-Christ, leur sauveur. Ils nous\npromirent pareillement qu\u2019ils n\u2019auraient jamais les uns avec les\nautres aucun diff\u00e9rend, aucune dispute au sujet de la religion.\nQuand j\u2019arrivai \u00e0 la maison de Will Atkins,\u2014si je puis l\u2019appeler\nainsi, car jamais pareil \u00e9difice, pareil morceau de clayonnage, je\ncrois, n\u2019eut son semblable dans le monde,\u2014quand j\u2019arrivai l\u00e0, dis-je,\nj\u2019y trouvai la jeune femme dont pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 et l\u2019\u00e9pouse de\nWilliam Atkins li\u00e9es intimement. Cette jeune femme sage et religieuse\navait perfectionn\u00e9 l\u2019\u0153uvre que Will Atkins avait commenc\u00e9e; et quoique\nce ne f\u00fbt pas plus de quatre jours apr\u00e8s ce dont je viens de donner la\nrelation, cependant la n\u00e9ophyte indienne \u00e9tait devenue une chr\u00e9tienne\ntelle que m\u2019en ont rarement offert mes observations et le commerce du\nmonde.\nDans la matin\u00e9e qui pr\u00e9c\u00e9da cette visite, il me vint \u00e0 l\u2019id\u00e9e que\nparmi les choses n\u00e9cessaires que j\u2019avais \u00e0 laisser \u00e0 mes Anglais,\nj\u2019avais oubli\u00e9 de placer une Bible, et qu\u2019en cela je me montrais\nmoins attentionn\u00e9 \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard que ne l\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 envers moi ma bonne\namie la veuve, lorsqu\u2019en m\u2019envoyant de Lisbonne la cargaison de cent\nlivres sterling, elle y avait gliss\u00e9 trois Bibles et un livre de\npri\u00e8res. Toutefois la charit\u00e9 de cette brave femme eut une plus grande\nextension qu\u2019elle ne l\u2019avait imagin\u00e9; car il \u00e9tait r\u00e9serv\u00e9 \u00e0 ses\npr\u00e9sents de servir \u00e0 la consolation et \u00e0 l\u2019instruction de gens qui en\nfirent un bien meilleur usage que moi-m\u00eame.\nJe mis une de ces Bibles dans ma poche, et lorsque j\u2019arrivai \u00e0 la\nrotonde ou maison de William Atkins, et que j\u2019eus appris que la jeune\n\u00e9pous\u00e9e et la femme baptis\u00e9e d\u2019Atkins avaient convers\u00e9 ensemble\nsur la religion,\u2014car Will me l\u2019annon\u00e7a avec beaucoup de joie,\u2014je\ndemandai si elles \u00e9taient r\u00e9unies en ce moment, et il me r\u00e9pondit\nque oui. J\u2019entrai donc dans la maison; il m\u2019y suivit, et nous les\ntrouv\u00e2mes toutes deux en grande conversation.\u2014\u00abOh! sir, me dit William\nAtkins, quand Dieu a des p\u00e9cheurs \u00e0 r\u00e9concilier \u00e0 lui, des \u00e9trangers\n\u00e0 introduire dans son royaume, il ne manque pas de messagers. Ma\nfemme s\u2019est acquis un nouveau guide; moi, je me reconnais aussi\nindigne qu\u2019incapable de cette \u0153uvre; cette jeune personne nous a \u00e9t\u00e9\nenvoy\u00e9e du ciel: il suffirait d\u2019elle pour convertir toute une \u00eele de\nsauvages.\u00bb\u2014La jeune \u00e9pous\u00e9e rougit et se leva pour se retirer, mais je\nl\u2019invitai \u00e0 se rasseoir.\u2014\u00abVous avez une bonne \u0153uvre entre les mains,\nlui dis-je, j\u2019esp\u00e8re que Dieu vous b\u00e9nira dans cette \u0153uvre.\u00bb\nNous caus\u00e2mes un peu; et, ne m\u2019apercevant pas qu\u2019ils eussent aucun\nlivre chez eux, sans toutefois m\u2019en \u00eatre enquis, je mis la main dans\nma poche et j\u2019en tirai ma Bible.\u2014\u00abVoici, dis-je \u00e0 Atkins, que je\nvous apporte un secours que peut-\u00eatre vous n\u2019aviez pas jusqu\u2019\u00e0 cette\nheure.\u00bb Le pauvre homme fut si confondu, que de quelque temps il ne\nput prof\u00e9rer une parole. Mais, revenant \u00e0 lui, il prit le livre \u00e0 deux\nmains, et se tournant vers sa femme:\u2014\u00abTenez, ma ch\u00e8re, s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il,\nne vous avais-je pas dit que notre Dieu, bien qu\u2019il habite l\u00e0-haut,\npeut entendre ce que nous disons! Voici ce livre que j\u2019ai demand\u00e9 par\nmes pri\u00e8res quand vous et moi nous nous agenouill\u00e2mes pr\u00e8s du buisson.\nDieu nous a entendus et nous l\u2019envoie.\u00bb\u2014En achevant ces mots, il tomba\ndans de si vifs transports, qu\u2019au milieu de la joie de poss\u00e9der ce\nlivre et des actions de gr\u00e2ce qu\u2019il en rendait \u00e0 Dieu, les larmes\nruisselaient sur sa face comme \u00e0 un enfant qui pleure.\n[Illustration: \u2014Je vous apporte un secours...]\nLa femme fut \u00e9merveill\u00e9e et pensa tomber dans une m\u00e9prise que personne\nde nous n\u2019avait pr\u00e9vue; elle crut fermement que Dieu lui avait envoy\u00e9\nle livre sur la demande de son mari. Il est vrai qu\u2019il en \u00e9tait\nainsi providentiellement, et qu\u2019on pouvait le prendre dans un sens\nraisonnable; mais je crois qu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 difficile en ce moment\nde persuader \u00e0 cette pauvre femme qu\u2019un messager \u00e9tait venu du ciel\ntout expr\u00e8s dans le dessein de lui apporter ce livre. C\u2019\u00e9tait mati\u00e8re\ntrop s\u00e9rieuse pour tol\u00e9rer aucune supercherie; aussi me tournai-je\nvers la jeune \u00e9pous\u00e9e et lui dis-je que nous ne devions point en\nimposer \u00e0 la nouvelle convertie, dans sa primitive et ignorante\nintelligence des choses, et je la priai de lui expliquer qu\u2019on\npeut dire fort justement que Dieu r\u00e9pond \u00e0 nos suppliques, quand,\npar le cours de sa providence, pareilles choses d\u2019une fa\u00e7on toute\nparticuli\u00e8re adviennent comme nous l\u2019avions demand\u00e9; mais que nous ne\ndevons pas nous attendre \u00e0 recevoir des r\u00e9ponses du ciel par une voie\nmiraculeuse et toute sp\u00e9ciale, et que c\u2019est un bien pour nous qu\u2019il\nn\u2019en soit pas ainsi.\nLa jeune \u00e9pous\u00e9e s\u2019acquitta heureusement de ce soin, de sorte qu\u2019il\nn\u2019y eut, je vous assure, nulle fraude pieuse l\u00e0 dedans. Ne point\nd\u00e9tromper cette femme e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 mes yeux la plus injustifiable\nimposture du monde. Toutefois le saisissement de joie de Will Atkins\npassait vraiment toute expression, et l\u00e0 pourtant, on peut en \u00eatre\ncertain, il n\u2019y avait rien d\u2019illusoire. A coup s\u00fbr, pour aucune chose\nsemblable, jamais homme ne manifesta plus de reconnaissance qu\u2019il\nn\u2019en montra pour le don de cette Bible; et jamais homme, je crois, ne\nfut ravi de poss\u00e9der une Bible par de plus dignes motifs. Quoiqu\u2019il\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 la cr\u00e9ature la plus sc\u00e9l\u00e9rate, la plus dangereuse, la plus\nendurcie, la plus outrageuse, la plus furibonde et la plus perverse,\ncet homme peut nous servir d\u2019exemple \u00e0 tous pour la bonne \u00e9ducation\ndes enfants, \u00e0 savoir que les parents ne doivent jamais n\u00e9gliger\nd\u2019enseigner et d\u2019instruire, et ne jamais d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer du succ\u00e8s de leurs\nefforts, les enfants fussent-ils \u00e0 ce point opini\u00e2tres et rebelles, ou\nen apparence insensibles \u00e0 l\u2019instruction; car si jamais Dieu dans sa\nprovidence vient \u00e0 toucher leur conscience, la force de leur \u00e9ducation\nreprend son action sur eux, et les premiers enseignements des parents\nne sont pas perdus, quoiqu\u2019ils aient pu rester enfouis bien des\nann\u00e9es: un jour ou l\u2019autre ils peuvent en recueillir le b\u00e9n\u00e9fice.\nC\u2019est ce qui advint \u00e0 ce pauvre homme. Quelque ignorant ou quelque\nd\u00e9pourvu qu\u2019il f\u00fbt de religion et de connaissance chr\u00e9tienne, s\u2019\u00e9tant\ntrouv\u00e9 avoir affaire alors \u00e0 plus ignorant que lui, la moindre\nparcelle des instructions de son bon p\u00e8re, qui avait pu lui revenir \u00e0\nl\u2019esprit, lui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u2019un grand secours.\nEntre autres choses il s\u2019\u00e9tait rappel\u00e9, disait-il, combien son p\u00e8re\navait coutume d\u2019insister sur l\u2019inexprimable valeur de la Bible, dont\nla possession est un privil\u00e8ge et un tr\u00e9sor pour l\u2019homme, les familles\net les nations. Toutefois il n\u2019avait jamais con\u00e7u la moindre id\u00e9e du\nprix de ce livre jusqu\u2019au moment o\u00f9, ayant \u00e0 instruire des pa\u00efens, des\nsauvages, des barbares, il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 priv\u00e9 de l\u2019assistance de l\u2019oracle\n\u00e9crit.\nLa jeune \u00e9pous\u00e9e fut aussi enchant\u00e9e de cela pour la conjoncture\npr\u00e9sente, bien qu\u2019elle e\u00fbt d\u00e9j\u00e0, ainsi que le jeune homme, une Bible\n\u00e0 bord de notre navire, parmi les effets qui n\u2019\u00e9taient pas encore\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e9s. Maintenant, apr\u00e8s avoir tant parl\u00e9 de cette jeune femme,\nje ne puis omettre \u00e0 propos d\u2019elle et de moi un \u00e9pisode encore\nqui renferme en soi quelque chose de tr\u00e8s instructif et de tr\u00e8s\nremarquable.\nJ\u2019ai racont\u00e9 \u00e0 quelle extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 la pauvre jeune suivante avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nr\u00e9duite; comment sa ma\u00eetresse, ext\u00e9nu\u00e9e par l\u2019inanition, \u00e9tait morte\n\u00e0 bord de ce malheureux navire que nous avions rencontr\u00e9 en mer, et\ncomment l\u2019\u00e9quipage entier \u00e9tant tomb\u00e9 dans la plus atroce mis\u00e8re, la\ngentlewoman, son fils et sa servante avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u2019abord durement\ntrait\u00e9s quant aux provisions, et ensuite totalement n\u00e9glig\u00e9s et\naffam\u00e9s, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire livr\u00e9s aux plus affreuses angoisses de la faim.\nUn jour, m\u2019entretenant avec elle des extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s qu\u2019ils avaient\nsouffertes, je lui demandai si elle pourrait d\u00e9crire, d\u2019apr\u00e8s ce\nqu\u2019elle avait ressenti, ce que c\u2019est que mourir de faim, et quels en\nsont les sympt\u00f4mes. Elle me r\u00e9pondit qu\u2019elle croyait le pouvoir, et\nelle me narra fort exactement son histoire en ces termes:\n\u2014\u00abD\u2019abord, sir, dit-elle, durant quelques jours nous f\u00eemes tr\u00e8s\nmaigre ch\u00e8re et souffr\u00eemes beaucoup la faim, puis enfin nous rest\u00e2mes\nsans aucune esp\u00e8ce d\u2019aliments, except\u00e9 du sucre, un peu de vin et\nun peu d\u2019eau. Le premier jour o\u00f9 nous ne re\u00e7\u00fbmes point du tout de\nnourriture, je me sentis, vers le soir, d\u2019abord du vide et du malaise\n\u00e0 l\u2019estomac, et, plus avant dans la soir\u00e9e, une invincible envie de\nb\u00e2iller et de dormir. Je me jetai sur une couche dans la grande cabine\npour reposer, et je dormis environ trois heures, puis je m\u2019\u00e9veillai\nquelque peu rafra\u00eechie, ayant pris un verre de vin en me couchant.\nApr\u00e8s \u00eatre demeur\u00e9e trois heures environ \u00e9veill\u00e9e, il pouvait \u00eatre\nalors cinq heures du matin, je sentis de nouveau du vide et du malaise\n\u00e0 l\u2019estomac, et je me recouchai; mais, harass\u00e9e et souffrante, je\nne pus dormir du tout. Je passai ainsi tout le deuxi\u00e8me jour dans\nde singuli\u00e8res intermittences, d\u2019abord de faim, puis de douleurs,\naccompagn\u00e9es d\u2019envies de vomir. La deuxi\u00e8me nuit, oblig\u00e9e de me mettre\nau lit derechef sans avoir rien pris qu\u2019un verre d\u2019eau claire, et\nm\u2019\u00e9tant assoupie, je r\u00eavai que j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 la Barbade, que le march\u00e9\n\u00e9tait abondamment fourni de provisions, que j\u2019en achetais pour ma\nma\u00eetresse, puis que je revenais et d\u00eenais tout mon so\u00fbl.\n\u00abJe crus apr\u00e8s ceci mon estomac aussi plein qu\u2019au sortir d\u2019un bon\nrepas; mais quand je m\u2019\u00e9veillai, je fus cruellement atterr\u00e9e en me\ntrouvant en proie aux horreurs de la faim. Le dernier verre de vin que\nnous eussions, je le bus apr\u00e8s avoir mis du sucre, pour suppl\u00e9er par\nle peu d\u2019esprit qu\u2019il contient au d\u00e9faut de nourriture. Mais n\u2019ayant\ndans l\u2019estomac nulle substance qui p\u00fbt fournir au travail de la\ndigestion, je trouvai que le seul effet du vin \u00e9tait de faire monter\nde d\u00e9sagr\u00e9ables vapeurs au cerveau, et, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019on me rapporta, je\ndemeurai stupide et inerte, comme une personne ivre, pendant quelque\ntemps.\n\u00abLe troisi\u00e8me jour dans la matin\u00e9e, apr\u00e8s une nuit de r\u00eaves \u00e9tranges,\nconfus et incoh\u00e9rents, o\u00f9 j\u2019avais plut\u00f4t sommeill\u00e9 que dormi, je\nm\u2019\u00e9veillai enrag\u00e9e et furieuse de faim, et je doute, au cas o\u00f9 ma\nraison ne f\u00fbt revenue et n\u2019en e\u00fbt triomph\u00e9, je doute, dis-je, si\nj\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 m\u00e8re et si j\u2019eusse eu un jeune enfant avec moi, que sa vie\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 en s\u00fbret\u00e9.\n\u00abCe transport dura environ trois heures, pendant lesquelles deux fois\nje fus aussi folle \u00e0 lier qu\u2019aucun habitant de Bedlam, comme mon jeune\nma\u00eetre me l\u2019a dit et comme il peut aujourd\u2019hui vous le confirmer.\n\u00abDans un de ces acc\u00e8s de fr\u00e9n\u00e9sie ou de d\u00e9mence, soit par l\u2019effet\ndu mouvement du vaisseau ou que mon pied e\u00fbt gliss\u00e9, je ne sais,\nje tombai, et mon visage heurta contre le coin du lit de veille o\u00f9\ncouchait ma ma\u00eetresse. \u00c0 ce coup, le sang ruissela de mon nez. Le\n_cabin-boy_ m\u2019apporta un petit bassin, je m\u2019assis et j\u2019y saignai\nabondamment. A mesure que le sang coulait, je revenais \u00e0 moi, et la\nviolence du transport ou de la fi\u00e8vre qui me poss\u00e9dait s\u2019abattait\nainsi que ma faim vorace.\n\u00abAlors je me sentis de nouveau malade, et j\u2019eus des soul\u00e8vements de\nc\u0153ur; mais je ne pus vomir, car je n\u2019avais dans l\u2019estomac rien \u00e0\nrejeter. Apr\u00e8s avoir saign\u00e9 quelque temps, je m\u2019\u00e9vanouis: l\u2019on crut\nque j\u2019\u00e9tais morte. Je revins bient\u00f4t \u00e0 moi, et j\u2019eus un violent mal\ndans l\u2019estomac impossible \u00e0 d\u00e9crire. Ce n\u2019\u00e9tait point des tranch\u00e9es,\nmais une douleur d\u2019inanition atroce et d\u00e9chirante. Vers la nuit elle\nfit place \u00e0 une sorte de d\u00e9sir d\u00e9r\u00e9gl\u00e9, \u00e0 un besoin inextinguible de\nnourriture, au-dessus de tout ce que l\u2019on pourrait imaginer. Je pris\nun autre verre d\u2019eau avec du sucre; mais mon estomac y r\u00e9pugna, et je\nrendis tout. Alors je bus un verre d\u2019eau sans sucre que je gardai, et\nje me remis sur le lit, priant du fond du c\u0153ur, afin qu\u2019il pl\u00fbt \u00e0 Dieu\nde m\u2019appeler \u00e0 lui; et apr\u00e8s avoir calm\u00e9 mon esprit par cet espoir, je\nsommeillai quelque temps. A mon r\u00e9veil, affaiblie par les vapeurs qui\ns\u2019\u00e9l\u00e8vent d\u2019un estomac vide, je me crus mourante. Je recommandai mon\n\u00e2me \u00e0 Dieu, et je souhaitai vivement que quelqu\u2019un voul\u00fbt me jeter \u00e0\nla mer.\n\u00abDurant tout ce temps ma ma\u00eetresse \u00e9tait \u00e9tendue pr\u00e8s de moi, et,\ncomme je l\u2019appr\u00e9hendais, sur le point d\u2019expirer. Toutefois elle\nsupportait son mal avec beaucoup plus de r\u00e9signation que moi, et\ndonna son dernier morceau de pain \u00e0 son fils, mon jeune ma\u00eetre, qui\nne voulait point le prendre; mais elle le contraignit \u00e0 le manger, et\nc\u2019est, je crois, ce qui lui sauva la vie.\n\u00abVers le matin, je me rendormis, et, quand je me r\u00e9veillai, d\u2019abord\nj\u2019eus un d\u00e9bordement de pleurs, puis un second acc\u00e8s de faim\nd\u00e9vorante, tel que je redevins enrag\u00e9e et retombai dans un affreux\n\u00e9tat: si ma ma\u00eetresse e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 morte, quelle que f\u00fbt mon affection pour\nelle, j\u2019ai la conviction que j\u2019aurais mang\u00e9 un morceau de sa chair\navec autant de go\u00fbt et aussi indiff\u00e9remment que je le fis jamais de\nla viande d\u2019aucun animal destin\u00e9 \u00e0 la nourriture; une ou deux fois,\nje fus tent\u00e9e de mordre \u00e0 mon propre bras. Enfin, j\u2019aper\u00e7us le bassin\ndans lequel \u00e9tait le sang que j\u2019avais perdu la veille; j\u2019y courus, et\nj\u2019avalai ce sang avec autant de h\u00e2te et d\u2019avidit\u00e9 que si j\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9\n\u00e9tonn\u00e9e que personne ne s\u2019en f\u00fbt empar\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0, et que j\u2019eusse craint\nqu\u2019on ne voul\u00fbt alors me l\u2019arracher.\n\u00abBien qu\u2019une fois faite cette action me remplit d\u2019horreur, cependant\ncela endormit ma grosse faim, et, ayant pris un verre d\u2019eau pure, je\nfus remise et restaur\u00e9e pour quelques heures. C\u2019\u00e9tait le quatri\u00e8me\njour, et je me soutins ainsi jusque vers la nuit, o\u00f9, dans l\u2019espace\nde trois heures, je passai de nouveau, tour \u00e0 tour, par toutes les\nangoisses pr\u00e9c\u00e9dentes, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que je fus malade, assoupie,\naffam\u00e9e, souffrante de l\u2019estomac, puis de nouveau vorace, puis de\nnouveau malade, puis folle, puis \u00e9plor\u00e9e, puis derechef vorace. De\nquart d\u2019heure en quart d\u2019heure changeant ainsi d\u2019\u00e9tat, mes forces\ns\u2019\u00e9puis\u00e8rent totalement. A la nuit, je me couchai, ayant pour toute\nconsolation l\u2019espoir de mourir avant le matin.\n\u00abJe ne dormis point de toute cette nuit, ma faim \u00e9tait alors devenue\nune maladie, et j\u2019eus de terribles coliques et d\u2019\u00e9pouvantables\ntranch\u00e9es favoris\u00e9es par le vide de mes entrailles. Je restai dans\ncet \u00e9tat jusqu\u2019au lendemain matin, o\u00f9 je fus quelque peu surprise par\nles plaintes et les lamentations de mon jeune ma\u00eetre, qui me criait\nque sa m\u00e8re \u00e9tait morte. Je me soulevai un peu, n\u2019ayant pas la force\nde me lever, mais je vis qu\u2019elle respirait encore, quoiqu\u2019elle ne\ndonn\u00e2t que de faibles signes de vie.\n\u00abJ\u2019avais alors de telles convulsions d\u2019estomac, provoqu\u00e9es par le\nmanque de nourriture, que je ne saurais en donner une id\u00e9e; et de\nfr\u00e9quents d\u00e9chirements, des transes de faim telles que rien n\u2019y peut\n\u00eatre compar\u00e9, sinon les tortures de la mort. C\u2019est dans cet \u00e9tat que\nj\u2019\u00e9tais, quand j\u2019entendis au-dessus de moi les matelots crier:\u2014\u00abUne\nvoile! une voile!\u00bb\u2014et vocif\u00e9rer et sauter comme s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 en\nd\u00e9mence.\n\u00abJe n\u2019\u00e9tais pas capable de sortir du lit, ma ma\u00eetresse encore moins,\net mon jeune ma\u00eetre \u00e9tait si malade que je le croyais expirant. Nous\nne p\u00fbmes donc ouvrir la porte de la cabine ni apprendre ce qui pouvait\noccasionner un pareil tumulte. Il y avait deux jours que nous n\u2019avions\neu aucun rapport avec les gens de l\u2019\u00e9quipage, qui nous avaient dit\nn\u2019avoir pas dans le b\u00e2timent une bouch\u00e9e de quoi que ce soit \u00e0 manger.\nEt depuis, ils nous avou\u00e8rent qu\u2019ils nous avaient crus morts.\n\u00abC\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 l\u2019affreux \u00e9tat o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions quand vous f\u00fbtes envoy\u00e9 pour\nnous sauver la vie. Et comment vous nous trouv\u00e2tes, sir, vous le savez\naussi bien et m\u00eame mieux que moi.\u00bb\nTel fut son propre r\u00e9cit. C\u2019\u00e9tait une relation tellement exacte de ce\nqu\u2019on souffre en mourant de faim, que jamais vraiment je n\u2019avais rien\nou\u00ef de pareil, et qu\u2019elle fut excessivement int\u00e9ressante pour moi.\nJe suis d\u2019autant plus dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 croire que cette peinture est vraie,\nque le jeune homme m\u2019en raconta lui-m\u00eame une bonne partie, quoique,\n\u00e0 vrai dire, d\u2019une fa\u00e7on moins pr\u00e9cise et moins poignante, sans\ndoute parce que sa m\u00e8re l\u2019avait soutenu aux d\u00e9pens de sa propre vie.\nBien que la pauvre servante f\u00fbt d\u2019une constitution plus forte que sa\nma\u00eetresse, d\u00e9j\u00e0 sur le retour et d\u00e9licate, il se peut qu\u2019elle ait eu \u00e0\nlutter plus cruellement contre la faim, je veux dire qu\u2019il peut \u00eatre\npr\u00e9sumable que cette infortun\u00e9e en ait ressenti les horreurs plus t\u00f4t\nque sa ma\u00eetresse, qu\u2019on ne saurait bl\u00e2mer d\u2019avoir gard\u00e9 les derni\u00e8res\nbouch\u00e9es, sans en rien abandonner pour le soulagement de sa servante.\nSans aucun doute, d\u2019apr\u00e8s cette relation, si notre navire ou quelque\nautre ne les e\u00fbt pas si providentiellement rencontr\u00e9s, quelques\njours de plus, et ils \u00e9taient tous morts, \u00e0 moins qu\u2019ils n\u2019eussent\npr\u00e9venu l\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nement en se mangeant les uns les autres; et m\u00eame, dans\nleur position, cela ne leur e\u00fbt que peu servi, vu qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient \u00e0\ncinq cents lieues de toute terre et hors de toute possibilit\u00e9 d\u2019\u00eatre\nsecourus autrement que de la mani\u00e8re miraculeuse dont la chose\nadvint. Mais ceci soit dit en passant. Je retourne \u00e0 mes dispositions\nconcernant ma colonie.\nEt d\u2019abord il faut observer que, pour maintes raisons, je ne jugeai\npas \u00e0 propos de leur parler du _sloop_ d\u00e9montable que j\u2019avais\nembarqu\u00e9, et que j\u2019avais pens\u00e9 faire assembler dans l\u2019\u00eele; car je\ntrouvai, du moins \u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e, de telles semences de discorde parmi\neux, que je vis clairement, si je reconstruisais le _sloop_ et le\nleur laissais, qu\u2019au moindre m\u00e9contentement ils se s\u00e9pareraient, s\u2019en\niraient chacun de son c\u00f4t\u00e9, ou peut-\u00eatre m\u00eame s\u2019adonneraient \u00e0 la\npiraterie et feraient ainsi de l\u2019\u00eele un repaire de brigands, au lieu\nd\u2019une colonie de gens sages et religieux comme je voulais qu\u2019elle f\u00fbt.\nJe ne leur laissai pas davantage, pour la m\u00eame raison, les deux pi\u00e8ces\nde canon de bronze que j\u2019avais \u00e0 bord et les deux caronades dont mon\nneveu s\u2019\u00e9tait charg\u00e9 par surcro\u00eet. Ils me semblaient suffisamment\n\u00e9quip\u00e9s pour une guerre d\u00e9fensive contre quiconque voudrait les\nattaquer; et je n\u2019entendais point les armer pour une guerre offensive\nni les encourager \u00e0 faire des excursions pour attaquer autrui, ce qui,\nen d\u00e9finitive, n\u2019e\u00fbt attir\u00e9 sur eux et leurs desseins que la ruine et\nla destruction. Je r\u00e9servai, en cons\u00e9quence, le _sloop_ et les canons\npour leur \u00eatre utiles d\u2019une autre mani\u00e8re, comme je le consignerai en\nson lieu.\nJ\u2019en avais alors fini avec mon \u00eele. Laissant tous mes planteurs en\nbonne passe, et dans une situation florissante, je retournai \u00e0 bord de\nmon navire le cinqui\u00e8me jour de mai, apr\u00e8s avoir demeur\u00e9 vingt-cinq\njours parmi eux; comme ils \u00e9taient tous r\u00e9solus \u00e0 rester dans l\u2019\u00eele\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je vinsse les en tirer, je leur promis de leur envoyer\nde nouveaux secours du Br\u00e9sil, si je pouvais en trouver l\u2019occasion,\net sp\u00e9cialement je m\u2019engageai \u00e0 leur envoyer du b\u00e9tail, tels que\nmoutons, cochons et vaches: car pour les deux vaches et les veaux que\nj\u2019avais emmen\u00e9s d\u2019Angleterre, la longueur de la travers\u00e9e nous avait\ncontraints \u00e0 les tuer, faute de foin pour les nourrir.\nLe lendemain, apr\u00e8s les avoir salu\u00e9s de cinq coups de canon\nde partance, nous f\u00eemes voile, et nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 la baie de\nTous-les-Saints, au Br\u00e9sil, en vingt-deux jours environ, sans avoir\nrencontr\u00e9 durant le trajet rien de remarquable que ceci. Apr\u00e8s\ntrois jours de navigation, le courant nous portant violemment au\nnord-nord-est dans une baie ou golfe vers la c\u00f4te, nous f\u00fbmes quelque\npeu entra\u00een\u00e9s hors de notre route, et une ou deux fois nos hommes\ncri\u00e8rent:\u2014\u00abTerre \u00e0 l\u2019est!\u00bb\u2014Mais \u00e9tait-ce le continent ou des \u00eeles?\nC\u2019est ce que nous n\u2019aurions su dire aucunement.\n[Illustration: Apr\u00e8s les avoir salu\u00e9s de cinq coups de canon...]\nOr, le troisi\u00e8me jour, vers le soir, la mer \u00e9tant douce et le temps\ncalme, nous v\u00eemes la surface de l\u2019eau en quelque sorte couverte,\ndu c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la terre, de quelque chose de tr\u00e8s noir, sans pouvoir\ndistinguer ce que c\u2019\u00e9tait. Mais un instant apr\u00e8s, notre second \u00e9tant\nmont\u00e9 dans les haubans du grand m\u00e2t, et ayant braqu\u00e9 une lunette\nd\u2019approche sur ce point, cria que c\u2019\u00e9tait une arm\u00e9e. Je ne pouvais\nm\u2019imaginer ce qu\u2019il entendait par une arm\u00e9e, et je lui r\u00e9pondis assez\nbrusquement, l\u2019appelant fou, ou quelque chose de semblable.\u2014\u00abOui-da!\nsir, dit-il, ne vous f\u00e2chez pas, c\u2019est bien une arm\u00e9e et m\u00eame une\nflotte; car je crois qu\u2019il y a bien mille canots! Vous pouvez\nd\u2019ailleurs les voir pagayer; ils s\u2019avancent en h\u00e2te vers nous, et sont\npleins de monde.\u00bb\nDans le fond je fus alors un peu surpris, ainsi que mon neveu, le\ncapitaine; comme il avait entendu dans l\u2019\u00eele de terribles histoires\nsur les sauvages et n\u2019\u00e9tait point encore venu dans ces mers, il ne\nsavait trop que penser de cela; et deux ou trois fois il s\u2019\u00e9cria que\nnous allions tous \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s. Je dois avouer que comme le courant\nportait avec force vers la terre, je mettais les choses au pire.\nCependant je lui recommandai de ne pas s\u2019effrayer, mais de faire\nmouiller l\u2019ancre aussit\u00f4t que nous serions assez pr\u00e8s pour savoir s\u2019il\nnous fallait en venir aux mains avec eux.\nLe temps demeurant calme, et les canots nageant rapidement vers nous,\nje donnai l\u2019ordre de jeter l\u2019ancre et de ferler toutes nos voiles.\nQuant aux sauvages, je dis \u00e0 nos gens que nous n\u2019avions \u00e0 redouter de\nleur part que le feu; que, pour cette raison, il fallait mettre nos\nembarcations \u00e0 la mer, les amarrer, l\u2019une \u00e0 la proue, l\u2019autre \u00e0 la\npoupe, les bien \u00e9quiper toutes deux, et attendre ainsi l\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nement.\nJ\u2019eus soin que les hommes des embarcations se tinssent pr\u00eats, avec des\nseaux et des \u00e9copes, \u00e0 \u00e9teindre le feu si les sauvages tentaient de le\nmettre \u00e0 l\u2019ext\u00e9rieur du navire.\nDans cette attitude, nous les attend\u00eemes, et en peu de temps ils\nentr\u00e8rent dans nos eaux; mais jamais si horrible spectacle ne s\u2019\u00e9tait\noffert \u00e0 des chr\u00e9tiens! Mon lieutenant s\u2019\u00e9tait tromp\u00e9 de beaucoup\ndans le calcul de leur nombre,\u2014je veux dire en le portant \u00e0 mille\ncanots,\u2014le plus que nous p\u00fbmes en compter quand ils nous eurent\natteints \u00e9tant d\u2019environ cent vingt-six. Ces canots contenaient une\nmultitude d\u2019Indiens; car quelques-uns portaient seize ou dix-sept\nhommes, d\u2019autres davantage, et les moindres six ou sept.\nLorsqu\u2019ils se furent approch\u00e9s de nous, ils sembl\u00e8rent frapp\u00e9s\nd\u2019\u00e9tonnement et d\u2019admiration, comme \u00e0 l\u2019aspect d\u2019une chose qu\u2019ils\nn\u2019avaient sans doute jamais vue auparavant, et ils ne surent d\u2019abord,\ncomme nous le compr\u00eemes ensuite, comment s\u2019y prendre avec nous.\nCependant ils s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent hardiment, et parurent se disposer \u00e0 nous\nentourer; mais nous cri\u00e2mes \u00e0 nos hommes qui montaient les chaloupes\nde ne pas les laisser venir trop pr\u00e8s.\nCet ordre nous entra\u00eena \u00e0 un engagement avec eux, sans que nous en\neussions le dessein; car cinq ou six de leurs grands canots s\u2019\u00e9tant\nfort approch\u00e9s de notre chaloupe, nos gens leur signifi\u00e8rent de la\nmain de se retirer, ce qu\u2019ils comprirent fort bien, et ce qu\u2019ils\nfirent; mais, dans leur retraite, une cinquantaine de fl\u00e8ches nous\nfurent d\u00e9coch\u00e9es de ces pirogues, et un de nos matelots de la chaloupe\ntomba gri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9.\nN\u00e9anmoins, je leur criai de ne point faire feu; mais nous leur\npass\u00e2mes un bon nombre de planches, dont le charpentier fit\nsur-le-champ une sorte de palissade ou de rempart, pour les d\u00e9fendre\ndes fl\u00e8ches des sauvages, s\u2019ils venaient \u00e0 tirer de nouveau.\nUne demi-heure apr\u00e8s environ, ils s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent tous en masse sur\nnotre arri\u00e8re, passablement pr\u00e8s, si pr\u00e8s m\u00eame, que nous pouvions\nfacilement les distinguer, sans toutefois p\u00e9n\u00e9trer leur dessein. Je\nreconnus ais\u00e9ment qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient de mes vieux amis, je veux dire de la\nm\u00eame race de sauvages que ceux avec lesquels j\u2019avais eu coutume de me\nmesurer. Ensuite ils nag\u00e8rent un peu plus au large jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils\nfussent vis-\u00e0-vis de notre flanc, puis alors tir\u00e8rent \u00e0 la rame droit\nsur nous, et s\u2019approch\u00e8rent tellement qu\u2019ils pouvaient nous entendre\nparler. Sur ce, j\u2019ordonnai \u00e0 tous mes hommes de se tenir clos et\ncouverts, de peur que les sauvages ne d\u00e9cochassent de nouveau quelques\ntraits, et d\u2019appr\u00eater toutes nos armes. Comme ils se trouvaient \u00e0\nport\u00e9e de la voix, je fis monter Vendredi sur le pont pour conf\u00e9rer\navec eux dans son langage, et savoir ce qu\u2019ils pr\u00e9tendaient. Il\nm\u2019ob\u00e9it. Le comprirent-ils ou non, c\u2019est ce que j\u2019ignore; mais,\nsit\u00f4t qu\u2019il les eut h\u00e9l\u00e9s, six d\u2019entre eux, qui \u00e9taient dans le\ncanot le plus avanc\u00e9, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire le plus rapproch\u00e9 de nous, firent\nvolte-face, et, se baissant, prirent une posture ind\u00e9cente. \u00c9tait-ce\nun d\u00e9fi ou un cartel, \u00e9tait-ce purement une marque de m\u00e9pris ou un\nsignal pour les autres, nous ne savions; mais au m\u00eame instant Vendredi\ns\u2019\u00e9cria qu\u2019ils allaient tirer, et, malheureusement pour lui, pauvre\ngar\u00e7on! ils firent voler plus de trois cents fl\u00e8ches, et, \u00e0 mon\ninexprimable douleur, tu\u00e8rent ce pauvre Vendredi, expos\u00e9 seul \u00e0 leur\nvue. L\u2019infortun\u00e9 fut perc\u00e9 de trois fl\u00e8ches et trois autres tomb\u00e8rent\ntr\u00e8s pr\u00e8s de lui, tant ils \u00e9taient de redoutables tireurs.\nJe fus si furieux de la perte de mon vieux serviteur, le compagnon de\ntous mes chagrins et de mes solitudes, que j\u2019ordonnai sur-le-champ\nde charger cinq canons \u00e0 mitraille et quatre \u00e0 boulets; et nous leur\nenvoy\u00e2mes une bord\u00e9e telle, que de leur vie ils n\u2019en avaient jamais\nessuy\u00e9 de pareille, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr.\n[Illustration: Nous leur envoy\u00e2mes une bord\u00e9e telle...]\nIls n\u2019\u00e9taient pas \u00e0 plus d\u2019une demi-enc\u00e2blure quand nous f\u00eemes feu, et\nnos canonniers avaient point\u00e9 si juste, que trois ou quatre de leurs\ncanots furent, comme nous e\u00fbmes tout lieu de le croire, renvers\u00e9s d\u2019un\nseul coup.\nLa mani\u00e8re incongrue dont ils nous avaient tourn\u00e9 le dos ne nous avait\npas grandement offens\u00e9s; d\u2019ailleurs, il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas certain que cela,\nqui passerait chez nous pour une marque du plus grand m\u00e9pris, f\u00fbt\npar eux consid\u00e9r\u00e9 de m\u00eame; aussi avais-je seulement r\u00e9solu de leur\nr\u00e9pondre par une salve de quatre ou cinq coups de canon \u00e0 poudre,\nce que je savais devoir les effrayer suffisamment. Mais quand ils\ntir\u00e8rent directement sur nous avec toute la furie dont ils \u00e9taient\ncapables, et surtout lorsqu\u2019ils eurent tu\u00e9 mon pauvre Vendredi, que\nj\u2019aimais et estimais tant, et qui, par le fait, le m\u00e9ritait si bien,\nnon seulement je crus ma col\u00e8re justifi\u00e9e devant Dieu et devant les\nhommes, mais j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 content si j\u2019avais pu les submerger eux et\ntous leurs canots.\n[Illustration: ... lorsqu\u2019ils eurent tu\u00e9 mon pauvre Vendredi...]\nJe ne saurais dire combien nous en tu\u00e2mes ni combien nous en bless\u00e2mes\nde cette bord\u00e9e; mais, assur\u00e9ment, jamais on ne vit un tel effroi et\nun tel hourvari parmi une pareille multitude; il y avait bien en tout,\nbris\u00e9es et culbut\u00e9es, treize ou quatorze pirogues dont les hommes\ns\u2019\u00e9taient jet\u00e9s \u00e0 la nage; le reste de ces barbares, \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s,\n\u00e9perdus, s\u2019enfuyaient aussi vite que possible, se souciant peu de\nsauver ceux dont les pirogues avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bris\u00e9es ou effondr\u00e9es\npar notre canonnade. Aussi, je le suppose, beaucoup d\u2019entre eux\np\u00e9rirent-ils. Un pauvre diable, qui luttait \u00e0 la nage contre les\nflots, fut recueilli par nos gens plus d\u2019une heure apr\u00e8s que tous\n\u00e9taient partis.\nNos coups de canon \u00e0 mitraille durent en tuer et en blesser un grand\nnombre; mais, bref, nous ne p\u00fbmes savoir ce qu\u2019il en avait \u00e9t\u00e9; ils\ns\u2019enfuirent si pr\u00e9cipitamment qu\u2019au bout de trois heures ou environ,\nnous n\u2019apercevions plus que trois ou quatre canots tra\u00eeneurs[28]. Et\nnous ne rev\u00eemes plus les autres, car, une brise se levant le soir\nm\u00eame, nous appareill\u00e2mes et f\u00eemes voile pour le Br\u00e9sil.\nNous avions bien un prisonnier, mais il \u00e9tait si triste, qu\u2019il ne\nvoulait ni manger, ni parler. Nous nous figur\u00e2mes tous qu\u2019il voulait\nse laisser mourir de faim. Pour le gu\u00e9rir, j\u2019usai d\u2019un exp\u00e9dient:\nj\u2019ordonnai qu\u2019on le pr\u00eet, qu\u2019on le redescend\u00eet dans la chaloupe,\net qu\u2019on lui fit accroire qu\u2019on allait le rejeter \u00e0 la mer, et\nl\u2019abandonner o\u00f9 on l\u2019avait trouv\u00e9, s\u2019il persistait \u00e0 garder le\nsilence. Il s\u2019obstina: nos matelots le jet\u00e8rent donc r\u00e9ellement \u00e0\nla mer et s\u2019\u00e9loign\u00e8rent de lui; alors il les suivit, car il nageait\ncomme un poisson, et se mit \u00e0 les appeler dans sa langue: mais ils ne\ncomprirent pas un mot de ce qu\u2019il disait. Cependant, \u00e0 la fin, ils le\nreprirent \u00e0 bord. Depuis, il devint plus traitable, et je n\u2019eus plus\nrecours \u00e0 cet exp\u00e9dient.\nNous rem\u00eemes alors \u00e0 la voile. J\u2019\u00e9tais inconsolable de la perte de mon\nserviteur Vendredi, et je serais volontiers retourn\u00e9 dans l\u2019\u00eele pour y\nprendre quelque autre sauvage \u00e0 mon service, mais cela ne se pouvait;\nnous poursuiv\u00eemes donc notre route. Nous avions un prisonnier, comme\nje l\u2019ai dit, et beaucoup de temps s\u2019\u00e9coula avant que nous pussions\nlui faire entendre la moindre chose. A la longue, cependant, nos gens\nlui apprirent quelque peu d\u2019anglais, et il se montra plus sociable.\nNous lui demand\u00e2mes de quel pays il venait: sa r\u00e9ponse nous laissa\nau m\u00eame point, car son langage \u00e9tait si \u00e9trange, si guttural, et se\nparlait de la gorge d\u2019une fa\u00e7on si sourde et si bizarre, qu\u2019il nous\nfut impossible d\u2019en recueillir un mot, et nous f\u00fbmes tous d\u2019avis qu\u2019on\npouvait aussi bien parler ce baragouin avec un b\u00e2illon dans la bouche\nqu\u2019autrement. Ses dents, sa langue, son palais, ses l\u00e8vres, autant que\nnous p\u00fbmes voir, ne lui \u00e9taient d\u2019aucun usage: il formait ses mots\npr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment comme une trompe de chasse forme un ton, \u00e0 plein gosier.\nIl nous dit cependant, quelque temps apr\u00e8s, quand nous lui e\u00fbmes\nenseign\u00e9 \u00e0 articuler un peu l\u2019anglais, qu\u2019ils s\u2019en allaient avec leurs\nrois pour livrer une grande bataille. Comme il avait dit rois, nous\nlui demand\u00e2mes combien ils en avaient. Il nous r\u00e9pondit qu\u2019il y avait\nl\u00e0 cinq _nation_,\u2014car nous ne pouvions lui faire comprendre l\u2019usage\nde l\u2019S au pluriel,\u2014et qu\u2019elles s\u2019\u00e9taient r\u00e9unies pour combattre deux\n_autre nation_. Nous lui demand\u00e2mes alors pourquoi ils s\u2019\u00e9taient\navanc\u00e9s sur nous.\u2014\u00abPour faire la grande merveille regarder,\u00bb dit-il\n(_To makee the great wonder look_). A ce propos, il est bon de\nremarquer que tous ces naturels, de m\u00eame que ceux d\u2019Afrique, quand\nils apprennent l\u2019anglais, ajoutent toujours deux E \u00e0 la fin des mots\no\u00f9 nous n\u2019en mettons qu\u2019un, et placent l\u2019accent sur le dernier,\ncomme _makee_, _takee_, par exemple, prononciation vicieuse dont on\nne saurait les d\u00e9saccoutumer, et dont j\u2019eus beaucoup de peine \u00e0\nd\u00e9barrasser Vendredi, bien que j\u2019eusse fini par en venir \u00e0 bout.\nEt maintenant que je viens de nommer encore une fois ce pauvre gar\u00e7on,\nil faut que je lui dise un dernier adieu. Pauvre honn\u00eate Vendredi!...\nNous l\u2019ensevel\u00eemes avec toute la d\u00e9cence et la solennit\u00e9 possibles. On\nle mit dans un cercueil, on le jeta \u00e0 la mer, et je fis tirer pour lui\nonze coups de canon. Ainsi finit la vie du plus reconnaissant, du plus\nfid\u00e8le, du plus candide, du plus affectionn\u00e9 serviteur qui f\u00fbt jamais.\nA la faveur d\u2019un bon vent, nous cinglions alors vers le Br\u00e9sil, et au\nbout de douze jours environ, nous d\u00e9couvr\u00eemes la terre par la latitude\nde cinq degr\u00e9s sud de la ligne: c\u2019est l\u00e0 le point le plus nord-est\nde toute cette partie de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique. Nous demeur\u00e2mes sud-quart-est\nen vue de cette c\u00f4te pendant quatre jours; nous doubl\u00e2mes alors le\ncap Saint-Augustin, et, trois jours apr\u00e8s, nous v\u00eenmes mouiller dans\nla baie de Tous-les-Saints, l\u2019ancien lieu de ma d\u00e9livrance, d\u2019o\u00f9\nm\u2019\u00e9taient venues \u00e9galement ma bonne et ma mauvaise fortune.\nJamais navire n\u2019avait amen\u00e9 dans ces parages personne qui y e\u00fbt\nmoins affaire que moi, et cependant ce ne fut qu\u2019avec beaucoup de\ndifficult\u00e9s que nous f\u00fbmes admis \u00e0 avoir avec la terre la moindre\ncommunication. Ni mon partner lui-m\u00eame, qui vivait encore, et\nfaisait en ces lieux grande figure, ni les deux n\u00e9gociants, mes\ncurateurs, ni le bruit de ma miraculeuse conservation dans l\u2019\u00eele, ne\npurent m\u2019obtenir cette faveur. Toutefois, mon partner, se souvenant\nque j\u2019avais donn\u00e9 cinq cents moidores au prieur du monast\u00e8re des\nAugustins, et trois cent soixante-douze aux pauvres, alla au\ncouvent, et engagea le prieur \u00e0 se rendre aupr\u00e8s du gouverneur pour\nlui demander pour moi la permission de descendre \u00e0 terre avec le\ncapitaine, quelqu\u2019un autre et huit matelots seulement, et la condition\nexpresse et absolue que nous ne d\u00e9barquerions aucune marchandise et ne\ntransporterions nulle autre personne sans autorisation.\nOn fut si strict envers nous quant au non-d\u00e9barquement des\nmarchandises, que ce ne fut qu\u2019avec une extr\u00eame difficult\u00e9 que je pus\nmettre \u00e0 terre trois ballots de merceries anglaises, \u00e0 savoir, de\ndraps fins, d\u2019\u00e9toffes et de toiles que j\u2019avais apport\u00e9es pour en faire\npr\u00e9sent \u00e0 mon partner.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait un homme g\u00e9n\u00e9reux et grand, bien que, ainsi que moi, il\nf\u00fbt parti de fort bas d\u2019abord. Quoiqu\u2019il ne s\u00fbt pas que j\u2019eusse le\nmoindre dessein de lui rien donner, il m\u2019envoya \u00e0 bord des provisions\nfra\u00eeches, du vin et des confitures, pour une valeur de plus de trente\nmoidores, \u00e0 quoi il avait joint du tabac et trois ou quatre belles\nm\u00e9dailles d\u2019or; mais je m\u2019acquittai envers lui par mon pr\u00e9sent, qui,\ncomme je l\u2019ai dit, consistait en drap fin, en \u00e9toffes anglaises, en\ndentelles et en belles toiles de Hollande. Je lui livrai en outre\npour cent livres sterling de marchandises d\u2019autre esp\u00e8ce, et j\u2019obtins\nde lui, en retour, qu\u2019il ferait assembler le _sloop_ que j\u2019avais\napport\u00e9 avec moi d\u2019Angleterre pour l\u2019usage de mes planteurs, afin\nd\u2019envoyer \u00e0 ma colonie les secours que je lui destinais.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, il se procura des bras, et le _sloop_ fut achev\u00e9 en\ntr\u00e8s peu de jours, car il \u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 tout fa\u00e7onn\u00e9; puis je donnai au\ncapitaine qui en prit le commandement des instructions telles qu\u2019il ne\npouvait manquer de trouver l\u2019\u00eele. Aussi la trouva-t-il, comme par la\nsuite j\u2019en re\u00e7us l\u2019avis de mon partner. Le _sloop_ fut bient\u00f4t charg\u00e9\nde la petite cargaison que j\u2019adressais \u00e0 mes insulaires, et un de nos\nmarins, qui m\u2019avait suivi dans l\u2019\u00eele, m\u2019offrit alors de s\u2019embarquer\npour aller s\u2019y \u00e9tablir moyennant une lettre de moi, laquelle enjoignit\nau gouverneur espagnol de lui assigner une \u00e9tendue de terrain\nconvenable et de lui donner les outils et les choses n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 des\nplantations, ce \u00e0 quoi il se disait fort entendu, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 colon au\nMaryland, et, par-dessus le march\u00e9, boucanier.\nJe confirmai ce gar\u00e7on dans ce dessein en lui accordant tout ce qu\u2019il\nd\u00e9sirait. Pour se l\u2019attacher comme esclave, je l\u2019avantageai en outre\ndu sauvage que nous avions fait prisonnier de guerre, et je fis passer\nl\u2019ordre au gouverneur espagnol de lui donner sa part de tout ce dont\nil avait besoin, ainsi qu\u2019aux autres.\nCHAPITRE V\n     D\u00e9part d\u00e9finitif de l\u2019\u00eele.\u2014Nouvelles aventures.\u2014A\n     Madagascar.\u2014Conflit avec les indig\u00e8nes.\u2014Massacre.\u2014Incendie du\n     village indien.\u2014Mutinerie.\u2014Un heureux d\u00e9sappointement.\u2014Un nouvel\n     associ\u00e9.\u2014Rencontre du canonnier.\u2014Poursuites et combat.\u2014Nouveaux\n     dangers.\u2014Succ\u00e8s facile.\u2014Un pilote babillard.\u2014En route pour la\n     Chine.\nQuand nous en v\u00eenmes \u00e0 \u00e9quiper le _sloop_, mon vieux partner me dit\nqu\u2019il y avait un tr\u00e8s honn\u00eate homme, un planteur br\u00e9silien de sa\nconnaissance, lequel avait encouru la disgr\u00e2ce de l\u2019\u00c9glise.\u2014\u00abJe ne\nsais pourquoi, dit-il, mais, sur ma conscience, je pense qu\u2019il est\nh\u00e9r\u00e9tique dans le fond de son c\u0153ur. De peur de l\u2019Inquisition, il a\n\u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9 de se cacher. A coup s\u00fbr, il serait ravi de trouver une\npareille occasion de s\u2019\u00e9chapper avec sa femme et ses deux filles. Si\nvous vouliez bien le laisser \u00e9migrer dans votre \u00eele et lui constituer\nune plantation, je me chargerais de lui donner un petit mat\u00e9riel\npour commencer; car les officiers de l\u2019Inquisition ont saisi tous\nses effets et tous ses biens, et il ne lui reste rien qu\u2019un ch\u00e9tif\nmobilier et deux esclaves. Quoique je ha\u00efsse ses principes, cependant\nje ne voudrais pas le voir tomber entre leurs mains; s\u00fbrement il\nserait br\u00fbl\u00e9 vif.\nJ\u2019adh\u00e9rai sur-le-champ \u00e0 cette proposition, je r\u00e9unis mon Anglais \u00e0\ncette famille, et nous cach\u00e2mes l\u2019homme, sa femme et ses filles sur\nnotre navire, jusqu\u2019au moment o\u00f9 le _sloop_ mit \u00e0 la voile. Alors,\nleurs effets ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 port\u00e9s \u00e0 bord de cette embarcation quelque\ntemps auparavant, nous les y d\u00e9pos\u00e2mes quand elle fut sortie de la\nbaie.\nNotre marin fut extr\u00eamement aise de ce nouveau compagnon. Aussi riches\nl\u2019un que l\u2019autre en outils et en mat\u00e9riaux, ils n\u2019avaient, pour\ncommencer leur \u00e9tablissement, que ce dont j\u2019ai fait mention ci-dessus;\nmais ils emportaient avec eux,\u2014ce qui valait tout le reste,\u2014quelques\nplants de canne \u00e0 sucre et quelques instruments pour la culture des\ncannes, \u00e0 laquelle le Portugais s\u2019entendait fort bien.\nEntre autres secours que je fis passer \u00e0 mes tenanciers dans l\u2019\u00eele,\nje leur envoyai par ce _sloop_ trois vaches laiti\u00e8res, cinq veaux,\nenviron vingt-deux porcs, parmi lesquels trois truies pleines; enfin\ndeux poulini\u00e8res et un \u00e9talon.\nJ\u2019engageai trois femmes portugaises \u00e0 partir, selon ma promesse faite\naux Espagnols, auxquels je recommandai de les \u00e9pouser et d\u2019en user\ndignement avec elles. J\u2019aurais pu en embarquer bien davantage, mais\nje me souvins que le pauvre homme pers\u00e9cut\u00e9 avait deux filles, et que\ncinq Espagnols seulement en d\u00e9siraient; les autres avaient des femmes\nen leur puissance, bien qu\u2019en pays \u00e9loign\u00e9s.\nToute cette cargaison arriva \u00e0 bon port et fut, comme il vous est\nfacile de l\u2019imaginer, fort bien re\u00e7ue par mes vieux habitants, qui\nse trouv\u00e8rent alors, avec cette addition, au nombre de soixante ou\nsoixante-dix personnes, non compris les petits enfants, dont il y\navait un grand nombre. Quand je revins en Angleterre, je trouvai des\nlettres d\u2019eux tous, apport\u00e9es par le _sloop_ \u00e0 son retour du Br\u00e9sil et\nvenues par la voie de Lisbonne. J\u2019en accuse ici r\u00e9ception.\nMaintenant, j\u2019en ai fini avec mon \u00eele, je romps avec tout ce qui la\nconcerne; et quiconque lira le reste de ces m\u00e9moires fera bien de\nl\u2019\u00f4ter tout \u00e0 fait de sa pens\u00e9e, et de s\u2019attendre \u00e0 lire seulement\nles folies d\u2019un vieillard que ses propres malheurs et, \u00e0 plus forte\nraison, ceux d\u2019autrui n\u2019avaient pu instruire \u00e0 se garer de nouveaux\nd\u00e9sastres; d\u2019un vieillard que n\u2019avait pu mod\u00e9rer plus de quarante\nann\u00e9es de mis\u00e8res et d\u2019adversit\u00e9s, que n\u2019avait pu satisfaire une\nprosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 surpassant son esp\u00e9rance et que n\u2019avait pu rendre sage une\naffliction, une d\u00e9tresse qui passe l\u2019imagination.\nJe n\u2019avais pas plus affaire d\u2019aller aux Indes Orientales qu\u2019un homme\nen pleine libert\u00e9 n\u2019en a d\u2019aller trouver le guichetier de Newgate, et\nde le prier de l\u2019enfermer avec les autres prisonniers et de lui faire\nsouffrir la faim. Si j\u2019avais pris un petit b\u00e2timent anglais pour me\nrendre directement dans l\u2019\u00eele, si je l\u2019avais charg\u00e9, comme j\u2019avais\nfait pour l\u2019autre vaisseau, de toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires pour la\nplantation et pour mon peuple; si j\u2019avais demand\u00e9 \u00e0 ce gouvernement-ci\ndes lettres patentes qui assurassent ma propri\u00e9t\u00e9, rang\u00e9e simplement\nsous la domination de l\u2019Angleterre, ce qu\u2019assur\u00e9ment j\u2019eusse obtenu;\nsi j\u2019y avais transport\u00e9 du canon, des munitions, des esclaves, des\nplanteurs; si, prenant possession de la place, je l\u2019eusse munie et\nfortifi\u00e9e au nom de la Grande-Bretagne et eusse accru sa population,\ncomme ais\u00e9ment je l\u2019eusse pu faire; si alors j\u2019eusse r\u00e9sid\u00e9 l\u00e0 et\neusse renvoy\u00e9 le vaisseau charg\u00e9 de bon riz, ce qu\u2019aussi j\u2019eusse pu\nfaire au bout de six mois, en mandant \u00e0 mes amis de nous le r\u00e9exp\u00e9dier\navec un chargement \u00e0 notre convenance; si j\u2019avais fait ceci, si je\nme fusse fix\u00e9 l\u00e0, j\u2019aurais enfin agi, moi, comme un homme de bon\nsens; mais j\u2019\u00e9tais poss\u00e9d\u00e9 d\u2019un esprit vagabond, et je m\u00e9prisai tous\nces avantages. Je me complaisais \u00e0 me voir le patron de ces gens\nque j\u2019avais plac\u00e9s l\u00e0, et \u00e0 en user avec eux en quelque sorte d\u2019une\nmani\u00e8re haute et majestueuse comme un antique monarque patriarcal:\nayant soin de les pourvoir comme si j\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 p\u00e8re de toute la\nfamille, comme je l\u2019\u00e9tais de la plantation; mais je n\u2019avais seulement\njamais eu la pr\u00e9tention de planter au nom de quelque gouvernement ou\nde quelque nation, de reconna\u00eetre quelque prince, et de d\u00e9clarer mes\ngens sujets d\u2019une nation plut\u00f4t que d\u2019une autre; qui plus est, je\nn\u2019avais m\u00eame pas donn\u00e9 de nom \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eele: je la laissai comme je l\u2019avais\ntrouv\u00e9e, n\u2019appartenant \u00e0 personne, et sa population n\u2019ayant d\u2019autre\ndiscipline, d\u2019autre gouvernement que le mien, lequel, bien que j\u2019eusse\nsur elle l\u2019influence d\u2019un p\u00e8re et d\u2019un bienfaiteur, n\u2019avait point\nd\u2019autorit\u00e9 ou de pouvoir pour agir ou commander allant au del\u00e0 de ce\nque, pour me plaire, elle m\u2019accordait volontairement. Et cependant\ncela aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 plus que suffisant si j\u2019eusse r\u00e9sid\u00e9 dans mon domaine.\nOr, comme j\u2019allai courir au loin et ne reparus plus, les derni\u00e8res\nnouvelles que j\u2019en re\u00e7us me parvinrent par le canal de mon partner,\nqui plus tard envoya un autre _sloop_ \u00e0 la colonie, et qui,\u2014je ne\nre\u00e7us toutefois sa missive que cinq ann\u00e9es apr\u00e8s qu\u2019elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9\n\u00e9crite,\u2014me donna avis que mes planteurs n\u2019avan\u00e7aient que ch\u00e9tivement,\net murmuraient de leur long s\u00e9jour en ce lieu; que Will Atkins \u00e9tait\nmort; que cinq Espagnols \u00e9taient partis; que, bien qu\u2019ils n\u2019eussent\npas \u00e9t\u00e9 tr\u00e8s molest\u00e9s par les sauvages, ils avaient eu cependant\nquelques escarmouches avec eux, et qu\u2019ils le suppliaient de m\u2019\u00e9crire\nde penser \u00e0 la promesse que je leur avais faite de les tirer de l\u00e0,\nafin qu\u2019ils pussent revoir leur patrie avant de mourir.\nMais j\u2019\u00e9tais parti \u00e0 la chasse de l\u2019oie sauvage, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; et ceux\nqui voudront savoir quelque chose de plus sur mon compte, il faut\nqu\u2019ils se d\u00e9terminent \u00e0 me suivre \u00e0 travers une nouvelle vari\u00e9t\u00e9\nd\u2019extravagances, de d\u00e9tresse et d\u2019impertinentes aventures, o\u00f9 la\njustice de la Providence se montre clairement, et o\u00f9 nous pouvons voir\ncombien il est facile au ciel de nous rassasier de nos propres d\u00e9sirs,\nde faire que le plus ardent de nos souhaits soit notre affliction,\net de nous punir s\u00e9v\u00e8rement dans les choses m\u00eames o\u00f9 nous pensions\nrencontrer le supr\u00eame bonheur.\nQue l\u2019homme sage ne se flatte pas de la force de son propre jugement,\net de pouvoir faire choix par lui-m\u00eame de sa condition priv\u00e9e dans la\nvie. L\u2019homme est une cr\u00e9ature qui a la vue courte, l\u2019homme ne voit pas\nloin devant lui; et comme ses passions ne sont pas de ses meilleurs\namis, ses affections particuli\u00e8res sont g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement ses plus mauvais\nconseillers[29].\nJe dis ceci, faisant allusion au d\u00e9sir imp\u00e9tueux que j\u2019avais, comme\nun jeune homme, de courir le monde. Combien il \u00e9tait \u00e9vident alors\nque cette inclination s\u2019\u00e9tait perp\u00e9tu\u00e9e en moi pour mon ch\u00e2timent!\nComment advint-il, de quelle mani\u00e8re, dans quelle circonstance,\nquelle en fut la conclusion, c\u2019est chose ais\u00e9e de vous le rapporter\nhistoriquement et dans tous ses d\u00e9tails; mais les fins secr\u00e8tes de\nla divine Providence, en permettant que nous soyons ainsi pr\u00e9cipit\u00e9s\ndans le torrent de nos propres d\u00e9sirs, ne seront comprises que de\nceux qui savent pr\u00eater l\u2019oreille \u00e0 la voix de la Providence et tirer\nde religieuses cons\u00e9quences de la justice de Dieu et de leurs propres\nerreurs.\nQue j\u2019eusse affaire ou pas affaire, le fait est que je partis; ce\nn\u2019est point l\u2019heure maintenant de s\u2019\u00e9tendre plus au long sur la raison\nou l\u2019absurdit\u00e9 de ma conduite. Or, pour en revenir \u00e0 mon histoire, je\nm\u2019\u00e9tais embarqu\u00e9 pour un voyage, et ce voyage je le poursuivis.\nJ\u2019ajouterai seulement que mon honn\u00eate et v\u00e9ritablement pieux\neccl\u00e9siastique me quitta ici[30]: un navire \u00e9tant pr\u00eat \u00e0 faire voile\npour Lisbonne, il me demanda la permission de s\u2019y embarquer, destin\u00e9\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait, comme il le remarqua, \u00e0 ne jamais achever un voyage\ncommenc\u00e9. Qu\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 heureux pour moi que je fusse parti avec lui!\nMais il \u00e9tait trop tard alors. D\u2019ailleurs le ciel arrange toutes\nchoses pour le mieux; si j\u2019\u00e9tais parti avec lui, je n\u2019aurais pas eu\ntant d\u2019occasions de rendre gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu, et vous, vous n\u2019auriez point\nconnu la seconde partie des Voyages et Aventures de Robinson Cruso\u00e9.\nIl me faut donc laisser l\u00e0 ces vaines apostrophes contre moi-m\u00eame, et\ncontinuer mon voyage.\nDu Br\u00e9sil, nous f\u00eemes route directement \u00e0 travers la mer Atlantique\npour le cap de Bonne-Esp\u00e9rance, ou, comme nous l\u2019appelons, _the Cape\nof Good Hope_, et notre course \u00e9tant g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement sud-est, nous e\u00fbmes\nune assez bonne travers\u00e9e; par-ci par-l\u00e0, toutefois, quelques grains\nou quelques vents contraires. Mais j\u2019en avais fini avec mes d\u00e9sastres\nsur mer: mes infortunes et mes revers m\u2019attendaient au rivage, afin\nque je fusse une preuve que la terre comme la mer se pr\u00eate \u00e0 notre\nch\u00e2timent, quand il pla\u00eet au ciel, qui dirige l\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nement des choses,\nd\u2019ordonner qu\u2019il en soit ainsi.\nNotre vaisseau faisant un voyage de commerce, il y avait \u00e0 bord un\nsubr\u00e9cargue charg\u00e9 de diriger tous ses mouvements une fois arriv\u00e9 au\nCap; seulement, dans chaque port o\u00f9 nous devions faire escale, il ne\npouvait s\u2019arr\u00eater au del\u00e0 d\u2019un certain nombre de jours fix\u00e9 par la\ncharte partie; ceci n\u2019\u00e9tait pas mon affaire, et je ne m\u2019en m\u00ealai pas\ndu tout; mon neveu,\u2014le capitaine,\u2014et le subr\u00e9cargue arrangeaient\ntoutes ces choses entre eux comme ils le jugeaient convenable.\nNous ne demeur\u00e2mes au Cap que le temps n\u00e9cessaire pour prendre\nde l\u2019eau, et nous f\u00eemes route en toute diligence pour la c\u00f4te de\nCoromandel. De fait, nous \u00e9tions inform\u00e9s qu\u2019un vaisseau de guerre\nfran\u00e7ais de cinquante canons et deux gros b\u00e2timents marchands \u00e9taient\npartis aux Indes, et comme je savais que nous \u00e9tions en guerre avec la\nFrance, je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas sans quelque appr\u00e9hension \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard; mais\nils poursuivirent leur chemin et nous n\u2019en e\u00fbmes plus de nouvelles.\nJe n\u2019encombrerai point mon r\u00e9cit avec la description des lieux, le\njournal de nos voyages, les variations du compas, les latitudes, les\ndistances, les moussons, la situation des ports, et autres choses\nsemblables dont presque toutes les histoires de longue navigation sont\npleines, choses qui rendent leur lecture assez fastidieuse, et sont\nparfaitement insignifiantes pour tout le monde, except\u00e9 seulement pour\nceux qui sont all\u00e9s eux-m\u00eames dans ces m\u00eames parages.\nC\u2019est bien assez de nommer les ports et les lieux o\u00f9 nous rel\u00e2ch\u00e2mes,\net de rapporter ce qui nous arriva dans le trajet de l\u2019un \u00e0\nl\u2019autre.\u2014Nous touch\u00e2mes d\u2019abord \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eele de Madagascar, o\u00f9, quoiqu\u2019ils\nsoient farouches et perfides, et particuli\u00e8rement tr\u00e8s bien arm\u00e9s de\nlances et d\u2019arcs, dont ils se servent avec une inconcevable dext\u00e9rit\u00e9,\nnous ne nous entend\u00eemes pas trop mal avec les naturels pendant quelque\ntemps: ils nous traitaient avec beaucoup de civilit\u00e9, et pour quelques\nbagatelles que nous leur donn\u00e2mes, telles que couteaux, ciseaux, _et\nc\u00e6tera_, ils nous amen\u00e8rent onze bons et gras bouvillons de moyenne\ntaille, mais fort bien en chair, que nous embarqu\u00e2mes, partie comme\nprovisions fra\u00eeches pour notre subsistance pr\u00e9sente, partie pour \u00eatre\nsal\u00e9s pour l\u2019avitaillement du navire.\nApr\u00e8s avoir fait nos approvisionnements, nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de\ndemeurer l\u00e0 quelque temps; et moi, toujours aussi curieux d\u2019examiner\nchaque recoin du monde o\u00f9 j\u2019allais, je descendais \u00e0 terre aussi\nsouvent que possible. Un soir, nous d\u00e9barqu\u00e2mes sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 oriental\nde l\u2019\u00eele, et les habitants, qui, soit dit en passant, sont tr\u00e8s\nnombreux, vinrent en foule autour de nous, et, tout en nous \u00e9piant,\ns\u2019arr\u00eat\u00e8rent \u00e0 quelque distance. Comme nous avions trafiqu\u00e9 librement\navec eux et qu\u2019ils en avaient fort bien us\u00e9 avec nous, nous ne\nnous cr\u00fbmes point en danger; mais, en voyant cette multitude, nous\ncoup\u00e2mes trois branches d\u2019arbre et les fich\u00e2mes en terre \u00e0 quelques\npas de nous, ce qui est, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, dans ce pays une marque\nde paix et d\u2019amiti\u00e9. Quand le manifeste est accept\u00e9, l\u2019autre parti\nplante aussi trois rameaux ou pieux en signe d\u2019adh\u00e9sion \u00e0 la tr\u00eave.\nAlors, c\u2019est une condition reconnue de la paix, que vous ne devez\npoint passer par devers eux au del\u00e0 de leurs trois pieux, ni\neux venir par devers vous en de\u00e7\u00e0 des trois v\u00f4tres, de sorte que\nvous \u00eates parfaitement en s\u00fbret\u00e9 derri\u00e8re vos trois perches. Tout\nl\u2019espace entre vos jalons et les leurs est r\u00e9serv\u00e9 comme un march\u00e9\npour converser librement, pour troquer et trafiquer. Quand vous vous\nrendez l\u00e0, vous ne devez point porter vos armes avec vous, et pour\neux, quand ils viennent sur ce terrain, ils laissent pr\u00e8s de leurs\npieux leurs zagaies et leurs lances, et s\u2019avancent d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s. Mais si\nquelque violence leur est faite, si, par l\u00e0, la tr\u00eave est rompue, ils\ns\u2019\u00e9lancent aux pieux, saisissent leurs armes, et alors adieu la paix.\nIl advint, un soir o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions au rivage, que les habitants\ndescendirent vers nous en plus grand nombre que de coutume, mais tous\naffables et bienveillants. Ils nous apport\u00e8rent plusieurs sortes de\nprovisions, pour lesquelles nous leur donn\u00e2mes quelques babioles que\nnous avions: leurs femmes nous apport\u00e8rent aussi du lait, des racines\net diff\u00e9rentes choses pour nous tr\u00e8s acceptables, et tout demeura\npaisible. Nous f\u00eemes une petite tente ou hutte avec quelques branches\nd\u2019arbres pour passer la nuit \u00e0 terre.\nJe ne sais \u00e0 quelle occasion, mais je ne me sentis pas si satisfait\nde coucher \u00e0 terre que les autres, et le canot se tenant \u00e0 l\u2019ancre \u00e0\nenviron un jet de pierre de la rive, avec deux hommes pour le garder,\nj\u2019ordonnai \u00e0 l\u2019un d\u2019eux de descendre \u00e0 terre; puis, ayant cueilli\nquelques branches d\u2019arbres pour nous couvrir aussi dans la barque,\nj\u2019\u00e9tendis la voile dans le fond, et passai la nuit \u00e0 bord sous l\u2019abri\nde ces rameaux.\nA deux heures du matin environ, nous entend\u00eemes un de nos hommes\nfaire grand bruit sur le rivage, nous criant, au nom de Dieu,\nd\u2019amener l\u2019esquif et de venir \u00e0 leur secours, car ils allaient \u00eatre\ntous assassin\u00e9s. Au m\u00eame instant, j\u2019entendis la d\u00e9tonation de cinq\nmousquets,\u2014c\u2019\u00e9tait le nombre des armes que se trouvaient avoir nos\ncompagnons,\u2014et cela \u00e0 trois reprises. Les naturels de ce pays, \u00e0 ce\nqu\u2019il para\u00eet, ne s\u2019effraient pas aussi ais\u00e9ment des coups de feu que\nles sauvages d\u2019Am\u00e9rique auxquels j\u2019avais eu affaire.\nIgnorant la cause de ce tumulte, mais arrach\u00e9 subitement \u00e0 mon\nsommeil, je fis avancer l\u2019esquif, et je r\u00e9solus, arm\u00e9s des trois\nfusils que nous avions \u00e0 bord, de d\u00e9barquer et de secourir notre monde.\nNous aurions bient\u00f4t gagn\u00e9 le rivage; mais nos gens \u00e9taient en si\ngrande h\u00e2te qu\u2019arriv\u00e9s au bord de l\u2019eau ils plong\u00e8rent pour atteindre\nvivement la barque: trois ou quatre cents hommes les poursuivaient.\nEux n\u2019\u00e9taient que neuf en tout; cinq seulement avaient des fusils; les\nautres, \u00e0 vrai dire, portaient bien des pistolets et des sabres; mais\nils ne leur avaient pas servi \u00e0 grand\u2019chose.\nNous en recueill\u00eemes sept avec assez de peine, trois d\u2019entre eux\n\u00e9tant gri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9s. Le pire de tout, c\u2019est que tandis que nous\n\u00e9tions arr\u00eat\u00e9s pour les prendre \u00e0 bord, nous nous trouvions expos\u00e9s\nau m\u00eame danger qu\u2019ils avaient essuy\u00e9 \u00e0 terre. Les naturels faisaient\npleuvoir sur nous une telle gr\u00eale de fl\u00e8ches, que nous fumes oblig\u00e9s\nde barricader un des c\u00f4t\u00e9s de la barque avec des bancs et deux ou\ntrois planches d\u00e9tach\u00e9es qu\u2019\u00e0 notre grande satisfaction, par un pur\nhasard, ou plut\u00f4t providentiellement, nous trouv\u00e2mes dans l\u2019esquif.\nToutefois, ils \u00e9taient, ce semble, tellement adroits tireurs que, s\u2019il\neu fait jour et qu\u2019ils eussent pu apercevoir la moindre partie de\nnotre corps, ils auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 s\u00fbrs de nous. A la clart\u00e9 de la lune on\nles entrevoyait, et comme du rivage o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient arr\u00eat\u00e9s ils nous\nlan\u00e7aient des zagaies et des fl\u00e8ches, ayant recharg\u00e9 nos armes, nous\nleur envoy\u00e2mes une fusillade que nous juge\u00e2mes avoir fait merveille\naux cris que jet\u00e8rent quelques-uns d\u2019entre eux. N\u00e9anmoins, ils\ndemeur\u00e8rent rang\u00e9s en bataille sur la gr\u00e8ve jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la pointe du jour,\nsans doute, nous le suppos\u00e2mes, pour \u00eatre \u00e0 m\u00eame de nous mieux ajuster.\n[Illustration: Nous leur envoy\u00e2mes une fusillade...]\nNous gard\u00e2mes aussi la m\u00eame position, ne sachant comment faire pour\nlever l\u2019ancre et mettre notre voile au vent, parce qu\u2019il nous e\u00fbt\nfallu pour cela nous tenir debout dans le bateau, et qu\u2019alors ils\nauraient \u00e9t\u00e9 aussi certains de nous frapper que nous le serions\nd\u2019atteindre avec de la cendr\u00e9e un oiseau perch\u00e9 sur un arbre. Nous\nadress\u00e2mes des signaux de d\u00e9tresse au navire, et quoiqu\u2019il f\u00fbt\nmouill\u00e9 \u00e0 une lieue, entendant notre mousqueterie et, \u00e0 l\u2019aide de\nlongues-vues, d\u00e9couvrant dans quelle attitude nous \u00e9tions et que nous\nfaisions feu sur le rivage, mon neveu nous comprit de reste. Levant\nl\u2019ancre en toute h\u00e2te, il fit avancer le vaisseau aussi pr\u00e8s de\nterre que possible; puis, pour nous secourir, nous d\u00e9p\u00eacha une autre\nembarcation mont\u00e9e par dix hommes. Nous leur cri\u00e2mes de ne point trop\ns\u2019approcher, en leur faisant conna\u00eetre notre situation. Nonobstant,\nils s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent fort pr\u00e8s de nous; puis l\u2019un d\u2019eux prenant \u00e0 la main\nle bout d\u2019une amarre, et gardant toujours notre esquif entre lui et\nl\u2019ennemi, si bien qu\u2019il ne pouvait parfaitement l\u2019apercevoir, gagna\nnotre bord \u00e0 la nage et y attacha l\u2019amarre. Sur ce, nous fil\u00e2mes par\nle bout notre petit c\u00e2ble, et, abandonnant notre ancre, nous f\u00fbmes\nremorqu\u00e9s hors de la port\u00e9e des fl\u00e8ches. Nous, durant toute cette\nop\u00e9ration, nous demeur\u00e2mes cach\u00e9s derri\u00e8re la barricade que nous\navions faite.\nSit\u00f4t que nous ne masqu\u00e2mes plus le navire, afin de pr\u00e9senter le flanc\naux ennemis, il prolongea la c\u00f4te et leur envoya une bord\u00e9e charg\u00e9e\nde morceaux de fer et de plomb, de balles et autre mitraille, sans\ncompter les boulets, laquelle fit parmi eux un terrible ravage.\nQuand nous f\u00fbmes rentr\u00e9s \u00e0 bord et hors de danger, nous recherch\u00e2mes\ntout \u00e0 loisir la cause de cette bagarre; et notre subr\u00e9cargue, qui\nsouvent avait visit\u00e9 ces parages, me mit sur la voie:\u2014\u00abJe suis s\u00fbr,\ndit-il, que les habitants ne nous auraient point touch\u00e9s apr\u00e8s une\ntr\u00eave conclue si nous n\u2019avions rien fait pour les provoquer.\u00bb\u2014Enfin il\nnous revint qu\u2019une vieille femme \u00e9tait venue pour nous vendre du lait\net l\u2019avait apport\u00e9 dans l\u2019espace libre entre nos pieux, accompagn\u00e9e\nd\u2019une jeune fille qui nous apportait aussi des herbes et des racines.\nTandis que la vieille,\u2014\u00e9tait-ce ou non la m\u00e8re de la jeune personne,\nnous l\u2019ignorions,\u2014d\u00e9bitait son laitage, un de nos hommes avait voulu\nprendre quelque grossi\u00e8re privaut\u00e9 avec la jeune Malgache, de quoi\nla vieille avait fait grand bruit. N\u00e9anmoins, le matelot n\u2019avait pas\nvoulu l\u00e2cher sa capture, et l\u2019avait entra\u00een\u00e9e hors de la vue de la\nvieille, alors qu\u2019il faisait presque nuit. La vieille femme s\u2019\u00e9tait\ndonc en all\u00e9e sans elle, et sans doute, on le suppose, ayant par ses\nclameurs ameut\u00e9 le peuple, en trois ou quatre heures toute cette\ngrande arm\u00e9e s\u2019\u00e9tait rassembl\u00e9e contre nous. Nous l\u2019avions \u00e9chapp\u00e9\nbelle.\nUn des n\u00f4tres avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9 d\u2019un coup de lance d\u00e8s le commencement de\nl\u2019attaque, comme il sortait de la hutte que nous avions dress\u00e9e; les\nautres s\u2019\u00e9taient sauv\u00e9s, tous, hormis le drille qui \u00e9tait la cause\nde tout le m\u00e9chef, et qui paya bien cher sa noire ma\u00eetresse: nous ne\np\u00fbmes de quelque temps savoir ce qu\u2019il \u00e9tait devenu. Nous demeur\u00e2mes\nencore sur la c\u00f4te pendant deux jours, bien que le vent donn\u00e2t, et\nnous lui f\u00eemes des signaux, tandis que notre chaloupe c\u00f4toyait le\nrivage dans les deux sens l\u2019espace de plusieurs lieues, mais en vain.\nNous nous v\u00eemes donc dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de l\u2019abandonner. Apr\u00e8s tout, si\nlui seul e\u00fbt souffert de sa faute, ce n\u2019e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 grand dommage.\nJe ne pus cependant me d\u00e9cider \u00e0 partir sans m\u2019aventurer une fois\nencore \u00e0 terre, pour voir s\u2019il ne serait pas possible d\u2019apprendre\nquelque chose sur lui et les autres. Ce fut la troisi\u00e8me nuit apr\u00e8s\nl\u2019action que j\u2019eus un vif d\u00e9sir d\u2019en venir \u00e0 conna\u00eetre, s\u2019il \u00e9tait\npossible, par n\u2019importe quel moyen, le d\u00e9g\u00e2t que nous avions fait et\nquel jeu se jouait du c\u00f4t\u00e9 des Indiens. J\u2019eus soin de me mettre en\ncampagne durant l\u2019obscurit\u00e9, de peur d\u2019une nouvelle attaque; mais\nj\u2019aurais d\u00fb aussi m\u2019assurer que les hommes qui m\u2019accompagnaient\n\u00e9taient bien sous mon commandement, avant de m\u2019engager dans une\nentreprise si hasardeuse et si dangereuse, comme inconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment je le\nfis.\nNous nous adjoign\u00eemes, le subr\u00e9cargue et moi, vingt compagnons des\nplus hardis, et nous d\u00e9barqu\u00e2mes deux heures avant minuit, au m\u00eame\nendroit o\u00f9 les Indiens s\u2019\u00e9taient rang\u00e9s en bataille l\u2019autre soir.\nJ\u2019abordai l\u00e0 parce que mon dessein, comme je l\u2019ai dit, \u00e9tait surtout\nde voir s\u2019ils avaient lev\u00e9 le camp et s\u2019ils n\u2019avaient pas laiss\u00e9\nderri\u00e8re eux quelques traces du dommage que nous leur avions fait. Je\npensais que, s\u2019il nous \u00e9tait possible d\u2019en surprendre un ou deux,\nnous pourrions peut-\u00eatre ravoir notre homme en \u00e9change.\nNous m\u00eemes pied \u00e0 terre sans bruit, et nous divis\u00e2mes notre monde\nen deux bandes: le bosseman en commandait une, et moi l\u2019autre. Nous\nn\u2019entend\u00eemes ni ne v\u00eemes personne bouger quand nous op\u00e9r\u00e2mes notre\ndescente; nous pouss\u00e2mes donc en avant vers le lieu du combat,\ngardant quelque distance entre nos deux troupes. De prime abord, nous\nn\u2019aper\u00e7\u00fbmes rien car il faisait tr\u00e8s noir; mais, peu apr\u00e8s, notre\nma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage, qui conduisait l\u2019avant-garde, tr\u00e9bucha et tomba\nsur un cadavre. L\u00e0-dessus tous firent halte, et, jugeant par cette\ncirconstance qu\u2019ils se trouvaient \u00e0 la place m\u00eame o\u00f9 les Indiens\navaient pris position, ils attendirent mon arriv\u00e9e. Alors nous\nr\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de demeurer l\u00e0 jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que, \u00e0 la lueur de la lune, qui\ndevait monter \u00e0 l\u2019horizon avant une heure, nous pussions reconna\u00eetre\nla perte que nous leur avions fait essuyer. Nous compt\u00e2mes trente-deux\nindig\u00e8nes rest\u00e9s sur la place, dont deux n\u2019\u00e9taient pas tout \u00e0 fait\nmorts. Les uns avaient un bras de moins, les autres une jambe, un\nautre la t\u00eate. Les bless\u00e9s, \u00e0 ce que nous suppos\u00e2mes, avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nenlev\u00e9s.\nQuand, \u00e0 mon sens, nous e\u00fbmes fait une compl\u00e8te d\u00e9couverte de tout\nce que nous pouvions esp\u00e9rer conna\u00eetre, je me disposai \u00e0 retourner\n\u00e0 bord; mais le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage et sa bande me firent savoir\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient d\u00e9termin\u00e9s \u00e0 faire une visite \u00e0 la ville indienne o\u00f9\nces chiens, comme ils les appelaient, avaient leur demeure, et me\npri\u00e8rent de venir avec eux. S\u2019ils pouvaient y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer, comme ils se\nl\u2019imaginaient, ils ne doutaient pas, disaient-ils, de faire un riche\nbutin, et peut-\u00eatre d\u2019y retrouver Thomas Jeffrys. C\u2019\u00e9tait le nom de\nl\u2019homme que nous avions perdu.\nS\u2019ils m\u2019avaient envoy\u00e9 demander la permission d\u2019y aller, je sais\nquelle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ma r\u00e9ponse; je leur eus intim\u00e9 l\u2019ordre sur-le-champ de\nretourner \u00e0 bord; car ce n\u2019\u00e9tait point \u00e0 nous \u00e0 courir \u00e0 de pareils\nhasards, nous qui avions un navire et son chargement sous notre\nresponsabilit\u00e9, et \u00e0 accomplir un voyage qui reposait totalement\nsur la vie de l\u2019\u00e9quipage; mais comme ils me firent dire qu\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient r\u00e9solus \u00e0 partir, et seulement nous demand\u00e8rent \u00e0 moi et \u00e0\nmon escouade de les accompagner, je refusai net, et je me levai\u2014car\nj\u2019\u00e9tais assis \u00e0 terre\u2014pour regagner l\u2019embarcation. Un ou deux de\nmes hommes se mirent alors \u00e0 m\u2019importuner pour que je prisse part \u00e0\nl\u2019exp\u00e9dition, et comme je m\u2019y refusais toujours positivement, ils\ncommenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 murmurer et \u00e0 dire qu\u2019ils n\u2019\u00e9taient point sous mes\nordres et qu\u2019ils voulaient marcher.\u2014\u00abViens, Jack, dit l\u2019un deux;\nveux-tu venir avec moi? sinon j\u2019irai tout seul.\u00bb\u2014Jack r\u00e9pondit qu\u2019il\nvoulait bien; un autre le suivit, puis un autre.\nBref, tous me laiss\u00e8rent, except\u00e9 un auquel, non sans beaucoup de\ndifficult\u00e9s, je persuadai de rester. Ainsi le subr\u00e9cargue et moi,\net cet homme, nous regagn\u00e2mes la chaloupe o\u00f9, leur d\u00eemes-nous, nous\nallions les attendre et veiller pour recueillir ceux d\u2019entre eux qui\npourraient s\u2019en tirer;\u2014\u00abcar, leur r\u00e9p\u00e9tai-je, c\u2019est une mauvaise\nchose que vous allez faire, et je redoute que la plupart de vous ne\nsubissent le sort de Thomas Jeffrys.\u00bb\nIls me r\u00e9pondirent, en vrais marins, qu\u2019ils gageaient d\u2019en revenir,\nqu\u2019ils se tiendraient sur leurs gardes, _et c\u00e6tera_; et ils\npartirent. Je les conjurai de prendre en consid\u00e9ration le navire et\nla travers\u00e9e; je leur repr\u00e9sentai que leur vie ne leur appartenait\npas, qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait en quelque sorte incorpor\u00e9e au voyage; que s\u2019il\nleur m\u00e9sarrivait, le vaisseau serait perdu faute de leur assistance\net qu\u2019ils seraient sans excuse devant Dieu et devant les hommes. Je\nleur dis bien des choses encore sur cet article, mais c\u2019\u00e9tait comme\nsi j\u2019eusse parl\u00e9 au grand m\u00e2t du navire. Cette incursion leur avait\ntourn\u00e9 la t\u00eate; seulement ils me donn\u00e8rent de bonnes paroles, me\npri\u00e8rent de ne pas me f\u00e2cher, m\u2019assur\u00e8rent qu\u2019ils seraient prudents,\net que, sans aucun doute, ils seraient de retour dans une heure au\nplus tard, car le village indien, disaient-ils, n\u2019\u00e9tait pas \u00e0 plus\nd\u2019un demi-mille au del\u00e0. Ils n\u2019en march\u00e8rent pas moins deux mille et\nplus avant d\u2019y arriver.\nIls partirent donc, comme on l\u2019a vu plus haut, et quoique ce f\u00fbt\nune entreprise d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e et telle que des fous seuls s\u2019y pouvaient\njeter, toutefois c\u2019est justice \u00e0 leur rendre, ils s\u2019y prirent aussi\nprudemment que hardiment. Ils \u00e9taient tous solidement arm\u00e9s, car\nchaque homme avait un fusil ou un mousquet, une ba\u00efonnette et un\npistolet. Quelques-uns avaient de gros poignards, d\u2019autres des\ncoutelas, et le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage ainsi que deux autres brandissaient\ndes haches d\u2019armes. Outre tout cela, ils \u00e9taient munis de treize\ngrenades. Jamais au monde compagnons plus t\u00e9m\u00e9raires et mieux pourvus\nne partirent pour un mauvais coup.\nEn partant, leur principal dessein \u00e9tait le pillage: ils se\npromettaient beaucoup de trouver de l\u2019or; mais une circonstance\nqu\u2019aucun d\u2019eux n\u2019avait pr\u00e9vue les remplit du feu de la vengeance, et\nfit d\u2019eux tous des d\u00e9mons. Quand ils arriv\u00e8rent aux quelques maisons\nindiennes qu\u2019ils avaient prises pour la ville, et qui n\u2019\u00e9taient pas\n\u00e9loign\u00e9es de plus d\u2019un demi-mille, grand fut leur d\u00e9sappointement,\ncar il y avait l\u00e0 tout au plus douze ou treize cases, et o\u00f9 \u00e9tait la\nville, et quelle \u00e9tait son importance, ils ne le savaient. Ils se\nconsult\u00e8rent donc sur ce qu\u2019ils devaient faire, et demeur\u00e8rent quelque\ntemps sans pouvoir rien r\u00e9soudre: s\u2019ils tombaient sur ces habitants,\nil fallait leur couper la gorge \u00e0 tous; pourtant il y avait dix \u00e0\nparier contre un que quelqu\u2019un d\u2019entre eux s\u2019\u00e9chapperait \u00e0 la faveur\nde la nuit, bien que la lune f\u00fbt lev\u00e9e, et, si un seul s\u2019\u00e9chappait,\nqu\u2019il s\u2019enfuirait pour donner l\u2019alerte \u00e0 toute la ville, de sorte\nqu\u2019ils se verraient une arm\u00e9e enti\u00e8re sur les bras. D\u2019autre part,\ns\u2019ils passaient outre et laissaient ces habitants en paix,\u2014car ils\n\u00e9taient tous plong\u00e9s dans le sommeil,\u2014ils ne savaient par quel chemin\nchercher la ville.\nCependant ce dernier cas leur semblant le meilleur, ils se\nd\u00e9termin\u00e8rent \u00e0 laisser intactes ces habitations, et \u00e0 se mettre\nen qu\u00eate de la ville comme ils pourraient. Apr\u00e8s avoir fait un\nbout de chemin, ils trouv\u00e8rent une vache attach\u00e9e \u00e0 un arbre, et\nsur-le-champ il leur vint \u00e0 l\u2019id\u00e9e qu\u2019elle pourrait leur \u00eatre un bon\nguide:\u2014\u00abS\u00fbrement, se disaient-ils, cette vache appartient au village\nque nous cherchons ou au hameau que nous laissons, et, en la d\u00e9liant,\nnous verrons de quel c\u00f4t\u00e9 elle ira: si elle retourne en arri\u00e8re, tant\npis; mais si elle marche en avant, nous n\u2019aurons qu\u2019\u00e0 la suivre.\u00bb\u2014Ils\ncoup\u00e8rent donc la corde faite de gla\u00efeuls tortill\u00e9s, et la vache\npartit devant. Bref, cette vache les conduisit directement au village,\nqui, d\u2019apr\u00e8s leur rapport, se composait de plus de deux cents maisons\nou cabanes. Dans quelques-unes plusieurs familles vivaient ensemble.\n[Illustration: ... et la vache partit devant.]\nL\u00e0 r\u00e9gnait partout le silence et cette s\u00e9curit\u00e9 profonde que pouvait\ngo\u00fbter dans le sommeil une contr\u00e9e qui n\u2019avait jamais vu pareil\nennemi. Pour aviser \u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils devaient faire, ils tinrent de\nnouveau conseil, et, bref, ils se d\u00e9termin\u00e8rent \u00e0 se diviser en trois\nbandes et \u00e0 mettre le feu \u00e0 trois maisons sur trois diff\u00e9rents points\ndu village; puis, \u00e0 mesure que les habitants sortiraient, de s\u2019en\nsaisir et de les garrotter. Si quelqu\u2019un r\u00e9sistait, il n\u2019est pas\nbesoin de demander ce qu\u2019ils pensaient lui faire. Enfin ils devaient\nfouiller le reste des maisons et se livrer au pillage. Toutefois\nil \u00e9tait convenu que sans bruit on traverserait d\u2019abord le village\npour reconna\u00eetre son \u00e9tendue et voir si l\u2019on pouvait ou non tenter\nl\u2019aventure.\nLa ronde faite, ils se r\u00e9solurent \u00e0 hasarder le coup en d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s;\nmais tandis qu\u2019ils s\u2019excitaient l\u2019un l\u2019autre \u00e0 la besogne, trois\nd\u2019entre eux, qui \u00e9taient un peu plus en avant, se mirent \u00e0 appeler,\ndisant qu\u2019ils avaient trouv\u00e9 Thomas Jeffrys. Tous accoururent, et ce\nn\u2019\u00e9tait que trop vrai, car l\u00e0 ils trouv\u00e8rent le pauvre gar\u00e7on pendu\ntout nu par un bras, et la gorge coup\u00e9e. Pr\u00e8s de l\u2019arbre patibulaire\nil y avait une maison o\u00f9 ils entrevirent seize ou dix-sept des\nprincipaux Indiens qui pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment avaient pris part au combat contre\nnous, et dont deux ou trois avaient re\u00e7u des coups de feu. Nos hommes\ns\u2019aper\u00e7urent bien que les gens de cette demeure \u00e9taient \u00e9veill\u00e9s et\nse parlaient l\u2019un l\u2019autre, mais ils ne purent savoir quel \u00e9tait leur\nnombre.\nLa vue de leur pauvre camarade massacr\u00e9 les transporta tellement de\nrage, qu\u2019ils jur\u00e8rent tous de le venger et que pas un Indien qui\ntomberait entre leurs mains n\u2019aurait quartier. Ils se mirent \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre\nsur-le-champ, toutefois moins follement qu\u2019on n\u2019e\u00fbt pu l\u2019attendre\nde leur fureur. Leur premier mouvement fut de se mettre en qu\u00eate de\nchoses ais\u00e9ment inflammables; mais, apr\u00e8s un instant de recherche, ils\ns\u2019aper\u00e7urent qu\u2019ils n\u2019en avaient que faire, car la plupart des maisons\n\u00e9taient basses et couvertes de gla\u00efeuls et de joncs dont la contr\u00e9e\nest pleine. Ils firent donc alors des artifices en humectant un peu\nde poudre dans la paume de leur main; et au bout d\u2019un quart d\u2019heure\nle village br\u00fblait en quatre ou cinq endroits, et particuli\u00e8rement\ncette habitation o\u00f9 les Indiens ne s\u2019\u00e9taient pas couch\u00e9s. Aussit\u00f4t que\nl\u2019incendie \u00e9clata, ces pauvres mis\u00e9rables commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 s\u2019\u00e9lancer\ndehors pour sauver leur vie; mais ils trouvaient leur sort dans cette\ntentative; l\u00e0, au seuil de la porte o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient repouss\u00e9s, le\nma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage lui-m\u00eame en pourfendit un ou deux avec sa hache\nd\u2019armes. Comme la case \u00e9tait grande et remplie d\u2019Indiens, le dr\u00f4le ne\nse soucia pas d\u2019y entrer, mais il demanda et jeta au milieu d\u2019eux une\ngrenade qui d\u2019abord les effraya; puis, quand elle \u00e9clata, elle fit un\ntel ravage parmi eux qu\u2019ils pouss\u00e8rent des hurlements horribles.\nBref, la plupart des infortun\u00e9s qui se trouvaient dans l\u2019entr\u00e9e de la\nhutte furent tu\u00e9s ou bless\u00e9s par cette grenade, hormis deux ou trois\nqui se pr\u00e9cipit\u00e8rent \u00e0 la porte que gardaient le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage\net deux autres compagnons, avec la ba\u00efonnette au bout du fusil, pour\nd\u00e9p\u00eacher tous ceux qui prendraient ce chemin. Il y avait un autre\nlogement dans la maison o\u00f9 le prince ou roi, n\u2019importe, et quelques\nautres, se trouvaient: l\u00e0, on les retint jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que l\u2019habitation,\nqui pour lors \u00e9tait tout en flammes, croul\u00e2t sur eux. Ils furent\n\u00e9touff\u00e9s ou br\u00fbl\u00e9s tous ensemble.\nTout ceci durant, nos gens n\u2019avaient pas l\u00e2ch\u00e9 un coup de fusil, de\npeur d\u2019\u00e9veiller les Indiens avant de pouvoir s\u2019en rendre ma\u00eetres;\nmais le feu ne tarda pas \u00e0 les arracher au sommeil, et mes dr\u00f4les\ncherch\u00e8rent alors \u00e0 se tenir ensemble bien en corps; car l\u2019incendie\ndevenait si violent, toutes les maisons \u00e9tant faites de mati\u00e8res\nl\u00e9g\u00e8res et combustibles, qu\u2019ils pouvaient \u00e0 peine passer au milieu des\nrues; et leur affaire \u00e9tait pourtant de suivre le feu pour consommer\nleur extermination. Au fur et \u00e0 mesure que l\u2019embrasement chassait les\nhabitants de ces demeures br\u00fblantes, ou que l\u2019effroi les arrachait de\ncelles encore pr\u00e9serv\u00e9es, nos lurons, qui les attendaient au seuil de\nla porte, les assommaient en s\u2019appelant et en se criant r\u00e9ciproquement\nde se souvenir de Thomas Jeffrys.\nTandis que ceci se passait, je dois confesser que j\u2019\u00e9tais fort\ninquiet, surtout quand je vis les flammes du village embras\u00e9, qui,\nparce qu\u2019il \u00e9tait nuit, me semblaient tout pr\u00e8s de moi.\nA ce spectacle, mon neveu le capitaine, que ses hommes r\u00e9veill\u00e8rent\naussi, ne fut gu\u00e8re plus tranquille, ne sachant ce dont il s\u2019agissait\net dans quel danger j\u2019\u00e9tais, surtout quand il entendit les coups de\nfusil: car nos aventuriers commen\u00e7aient alors \u00e0 faire usage de leurs\narmes \u00e0 feu. Mille pens\u00e9es sur mon sort et celui du subr\u00e9cargue et\nsur nous tous oppressaient son \u00e2me; et enfin, quoiqu\u2019il lui rest\u00e2t\npeu de monde disponible, ignorant dans quel mauvais cas nous pouvions\n\u00eatre, il prit l\u2019autre embarcation et vint me trouver \u00e0 terre, \u00e0 la\nt\u00eate de treize hommes.\nGrande fut sa surprise de nous voir, le subr\u00e9cargue et moi, dans la\nchaloupe, seulement avec deux matelots, dont l\u2019un y avait \u00e9t\u00e9 laiss\u00e9\npour sa garde; et bien qu\u2019enchant\u00e9 de nous retrouver en bon point,\ncomme nous il s\u00e9chait d\u2019impatience de conna\u00eetre ce qui se passait, car\nle bruit continuait et la flamme croissait. J\u2019avoue qu\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 bien\nimpossible \u00e0 tout homme au monde de r\u00e9primer son envie de savoir ce\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait advenu, ou son inqui\u00e9tude sur le sort des absents. Bref,\nle capitaine me dit qu\u2019il voulait aller au secours de ses hommes,\nco\u00fbte que co\u00fbte. Je lui repr\u00e9sentai, comme je l\u2019avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait \u00e0 nos\naventuriers, la s\u00fbret\u00e9 du navire, les dangers du voyage, l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat\ndes armateurs et des n\u00e9gociants, _et c\u00e6tera_, et lui d\u00e9clarai que\nje voulais partir, moi et deux hommes seulement, pour voir si nous\npourrions, \u00e0 distance, apprendre quelque chose de l\u2019\u00e9v\u00e9nement, et\nrevenir le lui dire.\nJ\u2019eus autant de succ\u00e8s aupr\u00e8s de mon neveu que j\u2019en avais eu\npr\u00e9c\u00e9demment aupr\u00e8s des autres:\u2014\u00abNon, non; j\u2019irai, r\u00e9pondit-il;\nseulement je regrette d\u2019avoir laiss\u00e9 plus de dix hommes \u00e0 bord, car je\nne puis penser \u00e0 laisser p\u00e9rir ces braves faute de secours: j\u2019aimerais\nmieux perdre le navire, le voyage, et ma vie et tout!...\u00bb\u2014Il partit\ndonc.\nAlors il ne me fut pas plus possible de rester en arri\u00e8re qu\u2019il\nm\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 possible de les dissuader de partir. Pour couper court,\nle capitaine ordonna \u00e0 deux matelots de retourner au navire avec la\npinasse, laissant la chaloupe \u00e0 l\u2019ancre, et de ramener encore douze\nhommes. Une fois arriv\u00e9s, six devaient garder les deux embarcations\net les six autres venir nous rejoindre. Ainsi seize hommes seulement\ndevaient demeurer \u00e0 bord; car l\u2019\u00e9quipage entier ne se composait que\nde soixante-cinq hommes, dont deux avaient p\u00e9ri dans la premi\u00e8re\n\u00e9chauffour\u00e9e.\nNous nous m\u00eemes en marche; \u00e0 peine, comme on peut le croire,\nsentions-nous la terre que nous foulions, et guid\u00e9s par la flamme, \u00e0\ntravers champs, nous all\u00e2mes droit au lieu de l\u2019incendie. Si le bruit\nde la fusillade nous avait surpris d\u2019abord, les cris des pauvres\nIndiens nous remu\u00e8rent bien autrement et nous remplirent d\u2019horreur.\nJe le confesse, je n\u2019avais jamais assist\u00e9 au pillage d\u2019une cit\u00e9 ni \u00e0\nla prise d\u2019assaut d\u2019une ville. J\u2019avais bien entendu dire qu\u2019Olivier\nCromwell, apr\u00e8s avoir pris Drogheda en Irlande, y avait fait massacrer\nhommes, femmes et enfants. J\u2019avais bien ou\u00ef raconter que le comte\nde Tilly, lors du sac de la ville de Magdebourg avait fait \u00e9gorger\nvingt-deux mille personnes de tout sexe; mais jusqu\u2019alors je ne\nm\u2019\u00e9tais jamais fait une id\u00e9e de la chose m\u00eame, et je ne saurais ni la\nd\u00e9crire, ni rendre l\u2019horreur qui s\u2019empara de nos esprits.\nN\u00e9anmoins nous avancions toujours et enfin nous atteign\u00eemes le\nvillage, sans pouvoir toutefois p\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans les rues \u00e0 cause du feu.\nLe premier objet qui s\u2019offrit \u00e0 nos regards, ce fut les ruines d\u2019une\nmaison ou d\u2019une hutte, ou plut\u00f4t ses cendres, car elle \u00e9tait consum\u00e9e.\nTout aupr\u00e8s, \u00e9clair\u00e9s en plein par l\u2019incendie, gisaient quatre hommes\net trois femmes tu\u00e9s, et nous e\u00fbmes lieu de croire qu\u2019un ou deux\nautres cadavres \u00e9taient ensevelis parmi les d\u00e9combres en feu.\nEn un mot, nous trouv\u00e2mes partout les traces d\u2019une rage si barbare,\net d\u2019une fureur si au del\u00e0 de tout ce qui est humain, que nous ne\np\u00fbmes croire que nos gens fussent coupables de telles atrocit\u00e9s, ou,\ns\u2019ils en \u00e9taient les auteurs, nous pens\u00e2mes que tous avaient m\u00e9rit\u00e9 la\nmort la plus cruelle. Mais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas tout: nous v\u00eemes l\u2019incendie\ns\u2019\u00e9tendre, et comme les cris croissaient \u00e0 mesure que l\u2019incendie\ncroissait, nous tomb\u00e2mes dans la derni\u00e8re consternation. Nous nous\navan\u00e7\u00e2mes un peu, et nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes, \u00e0 notre grand \u00e9tonnement, trois\nfemmes nues, poussant d\u2019horribles cris, et fuyant comme si elles\navaient des ailes, puis, derri\u00e8re elles, dans la m\u00eame \u00e9pouvante et\nla m\u00eame terreur, seize ou dix-sept naturels poursuivis-je ne saurais\nles mieux nommer\u2014par trois de nos bouchers anglais, qui, ne pouvant\nles atteindre, leur envoy\u00e8rent une d\u00e9charge: un pauvre diable, frapp\u00e9\nd\u2019une balle, fut renvers\u00e9 sous nos yeux. Quand ces Indiens nous\nvirent, croyant que nous \u00e9tions des ennemis et que nous voulions les\n\u00e9gorger, comme ceux qui leur donnaient la chasse, ils jet\u00e8rent un cri\nhorrible, surtout les femmes, et deux d\u2019entre eux tomb\u00e8rent par terre\ncomme morts d\u2019effroi.\nA ce spectacle, j\u2019eus le c\u0153ur navr\u00e9, mon sang se gla\u00e7a dans mes\nveines, et je crois que si les trois matelots anglais qui les\npoursuivaient se fussent approch\u00e9s, je les aurais fait tuer par notre\nmonde. Nous essay\u00e2mes de faire conna\u00eetre \u00e0 ces pauvres fuyards que\nnous ne voulions point leur faire de mal, et aussit\u00f4t ils accoururent\net se jet\u00e8rent \u00e0 nos genoux, levant les mains et se lamentant\npiteusement pour que nous leur sauvions la vie. Leur ayant donn\u00e9\n\u00e0 entendre que c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 notre intention, tous vinrent p\u00eale-m\u00eale\nderri\u00e8re nous se ranger sous notre protection. Je laissai mes hommes\nassembl\u00e9s, et je leur recommandai de ne frapper personne, mais, s\u2019il\n\u00e9tait possible, de se saisir de quelqu\u2019un de nos gens pour voir de\nquel d\u00e9mon ils \u00e9taient poss\u00e9d\u00e9s, ce qu\u2019ils esp\u00e9raient faire, puis\nenfin, de leur enjoindre de se retirer, en leur assurant que, s\u2019ils\ndemeuraient jusqu\u2019au jour, ils auraient une centaine de mille hommes \u00e0\nleurs trousses. Je les laissai, dis-je, et prenant seulement avec moi\ndeux de nos marins, je m\u2019en allai parmi les fuyards. L\u00e0, quel triste\nspectacle m\u2019attendait! Quelques-uns s\u2019\u00e9taient horriblement r\u00f4ti les\npieds en passant et courant \u00e0 travers le feu; d\u2019autres avaient les\nmains br\u00fbl\u00e9es; une des femmes \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9e dans les flammes et avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 presque mortellement grill\u00e9e avant de pouvoir s\u2019en arracher; deux\nou trois hommes avaient eu, dans leur fuite, le dos et les cuisses\ntaillad\u00e9s par nos gens; un autre enfin avait re\u00e7u une balle dans le\ncorps, et mourut tandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais l\u00e0.\nJ\u2019aurais bien d\u00e9sir\u00e9 conna\u00eetre quelle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 la cause de tout ceci,\nmais je ne pus comprendre un mot de ce qu\u2019ils me dirent; \u00e0 leurs\nsignes, toutefois, je m\u2019aper\u00e7us qu\u2019ils n\u2019en savaient rien eux-m\u00eames.\nCet abominable attentat me transper\u00e7a tellement le c\u0153ur que, ne\npouvant tenir l\u00e0 plus longtemps, je retournai vers nos compagnons. Je\nleur faisais part de ma r\u00e9solution et leur commandais de me suivre,\nquand, tout \u00e0 coup, s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent quatre de nos matamores avec le\nma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage \u00e0 leur t\u00eate, courant, tout couverts de sang et de\npoussi\u00e8re, sur des monceaux de corps qu\u2019ils avaient tu\u00e9s, comme s\u2019ils\ncherchaient encore du monde \u00e0 massacrer. Nos hommes les appel\u00e8rent de\ntoutes leurs forces; un d\u2019eux, non sans beaucoup de peine, parvint\n\u00e0 s\u2019en faire entendre; ils reconnurent alors qui nous \u00e9tions, et\ns\u2019approch\u00e8rent de nous.\nSit\u00f4t que le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage nous vit, il poussa comme un cri\nde triomphe, pensant qu\u2019il lui arrivait du renfort, et, sans plus\n\u00e9couter:\u2014\u00abCapitaine, s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il, noble capitaine, que je suis aise\nque vous soyez venu! nous n\u2019en avons pas encore \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 fini. Les\nplats gueux! les chiens d\u2019enfer! je veux en tuer autant que le pauvre\nTom a de cheveux sur la t\u00eate. Nous avons jur\u00e9 de n\u2019en \u00e9pargner aucun;\nnous voulons extirper cette race de la terre!\u00bb\u2014Et il se reprit \u00e0\ncourir, pantelant, hors d\u2019haleine, sans nous donner le temps de lui\ndire un mot.\nEnfin, \u00e9levant la voix pour lui imposer un peu silence:\u2014\u00abChien\nsanguinaire! lui criai-je, qu\u2019allez-vous faire? Je vous d\u00e9fends de\ntoucher \u00e0 une seule de ces cr\u00e9atures, sous peine de la vie. Je vous\nordonne, sur votre t\u00eate, de mettre fin \u00e0 cette tuerie, et de rester\nici: sinon vous \u00eates mort.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abTudieu! sir, dit-il, savez-vous ce que vous faites et ce qu\u2019ils ont\nfait? Si vous voulez savoir la raison de ce que nous avons fait, nous,\nvenez ici.\u00bb\u2014Et, sur ce, il me montra le pauvre Tom pendu \u00e0 un arbre,\net la gorge coup\u00e9e.\n[Illustration: ... le pauvre Tom pendu \u00e0 un arbre...]\nJ\u2019avoue qu\u2019\u00e0 cet aspect je fus irrit\u00e9 moi-m\u00eame, et qu\u2019en toute autre\noccasion j\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 fort exasp\u00e9r\u00e9; mais je pensai que d\u00e9j\u00e0 ils\nn\u2019avaient port\u00e9 que trop loin leur rage et je me rappelai les paroles\nde Jacob \u00e0 ses fils Sim\u00e9on et L\u00e9vi:\u2014\u00abMAUDITE SOIT LEUR COL\u00c8RE, CAR\nELLE A \u00c9T\u00c9 F\u00c9ROCE, ET LEUR VENGEANCE, CAR ELLE A \u00c9T\u00c9 CRUELLE.\u00bb\u2014Or, une\nnouvelle besogne me tomba alors sur les bras, car lorsque les marins\nqui me suivaient eurent jet\u00e9 les yeux sur ce triste spectacle, ainsi\nque moi, j\u2019eus autant de peine \u00e0 les retenir que j\u2019en avais eu avec\nles autres. Bien plus, mon neveu le capitaine se rangea de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9,\net me dit, de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils l\u2019entendissent, qu\u2019ils redoutaient\nseulement que nos hommes ne fussent \u00e9cras\u00e9s par le nombre; mais quant\naux habitants, qu\u2019ils m\u00e9ritaient tous la mort, car tous avaient tremp\u00e9\ndans le meurtre du pauvre matelot et devaient \u00eatre trait\u00e9s comme des\nassassins. A ces mots, huit de mes hommes, avec le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage\net sa bande, s\u2019enfuirent pour achever leur sanglant ouvrage. Et moi,\npuisqu\u2019il \u00e9tait tout \u00e0 fait hors de mon pouvoir de les retenir,\nje me retirai morne et pensif: je ne pouvais supporter la vue et\nencore moins les cris et les g\u00e9missements des pauvres mis\u00e9rables qui\ntombaient entre leurs mains.\nPersonne ne me suivit, hors le subr\u00e9cargue et deux hommes, et avec eux\nseuls je retournai vers nos embarcations. C\u2019\u00e9tait une grande folie \u00e0\nmoi, je l\u2019avoue, de m\u2019en aller ainsi; car il commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 faire jour\net l\u2019alarme s\u2019\u00e9tait r\u00e9pandue dans le pays. Environ trente ou quarante\nhommes arm\u00e9s de lances et d\u2019arcs campaient \u00e0 ce petit hameau de douze\nou treize cabanes dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9 question d\u00e9j\u00e0; mais, par bonheur,\nj\u2019\u00e9vitai cette place et je gagnai directement la c\u00f4te. Quand j\u2019arrivai\nau rivage, il faisait grand jour: je pris imm\u00e9diatement la pinasse et\nje me rendis \u00e0 bord, puis je la renvoyai pour secourir nos hommes le\ncas \u00e9ch\u00e9ant.\nJe remarquai, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s vers le temps o\u00f9 j\u2019accostai le navire,\nque le feu \u00e9tait presque \u00e9teint et le bruit apais\u00e9; mais environ\nune demi-heure apr\u00e8s que j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 bord, j\u2019entendis une salve de\nmousqueterie et je vis une grande fum\u00e9e. C\u2019\u00e9tait, comme je l\u2019appris\nplus tard, nos hommes qui, chemin faisant, assaillaient les quarante\nIndiens post\u00e9s au petit hameau. Ils en tu\u00e8rent seize ou dix-sept et\nbr\u00fbl\u00e8rent toutes les maisons, mais ils ne touch\u00e8rent point aux femmes\nni aux enfants.\nAu moment o\u00f9 la pinasse regagnait le rivage, nos aventuriers\ncommenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 repara\u00eetre: ils arrivaient petit \u00e0 petit, non plus en\ndeux corps et en ordre comme ils \u00e9taient partis, mais p\u00eale-m\u00eale, mais\n\u00e0 la d\u00e9bandade, de telle fa\u00e7on qu\u2019une poign\u00e9e d\u2019hommes r\u00e9solus aurait\npu leur couper \u00e0 tous la retraite.\nMais ils avaient jet\u00e9 l\u2019\u00e9pouvante dans tout le pays. Les naturels\n\u00e9taient si constern\u00e9s, si atterr\u00e9s qu\u2019une centaine d\u2019entre eux, je\ncrois, auraient fui seulement \u00e0 l\u2019aspect de cinq des n\u00f4tres. Dans\ntoute cette terrible action il n\u2019y eut pas un homme qui fit une belle\nd\u00e9fense. Surpris tout \u00e0 la fois par l\u2019incendie et l\u2019attaque soudaine\nde nos gens au milieu de l\u2019obscurit\u00e9, ils \u00e9taient si \u00e9perdus qu\u2019ils\nne savaient que devenir. S\u2019ils fuyaient d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9, ils rencontraient\nun parti; s\u2019ils reculaient, un autre, et partout la mort. Quant \u00e0 nos\nmarins, pas un n\u2019attrapa la moindre blessure, hors un homme qui se\nfoula le pied et un autre qui eut une main assez gri\u00e8vement br\u00fbl\u00e9e.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais fort irrit\u00e9 contre mon neveu le capitaine, et au fait\nint\u00e9rieurement, contre tous les hommes du bord, mais surtout contre\nlui, non seulement parce qu\u2019il avait forfait \u00e0 son devoir, comme\ncommandant du navire, responsable du voyage, mais encore parce\nqu\u2019il avait plut\u00f4t attis\u00e9 qu\u2019amorti la rage de son \u00e9quipage dans\ncette sanguinaire et cruelle entreprise. Mon neveu me r\u00e9pondit tr\u00e8s\nrespectueusement, et me dit qu\u2019\u00e0 la vue du cadavre du pauvre matelot,\nmassacr\u00e9 d\u2019une fa\u00e7on si f\u00e9roce et si barbare, il n\u2019avait pas \u00e9t\u00e9\nma\u00eetre de lui-m\u00eame et n\u2019avait pu ma\u00eetriser sa col\u00e8re. Il avoua qu\u2019il\nn\u2019aurait pas d\u00fb agir ainsi comme capitaine du navire, mais comme il\n\u00e9tait homme, que la nature l\u2019avait remu\u00e9 et qu\u2019il n\u2019avait pu pr\u00e9valoir\nsur elle. Quant aux autres, ils ne m\u2019\u00e9taient soumis aucunement, et ils\nne le savaient que trop: aussi tinrent-ils peu de compte de mon bl\u00e2me.\nLe lendemain nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 la voile, nous n\u2019appr\u00eemes donc rien de\nplus. Nos hommes n\u2019\u00e9taient pas d\u2019accord sur le nombre des gens qu\u2019ils\navaient tu\u00e9s: les uns disaient une chose, les autres une autre; mais,\nselon le plus admissible de tous leurs r\u00e9cits, ils avaient bien\nexp\u00e9di\u00e9 environ cent cinquante personnes, hommes, femmes et enfants,\net n\u2019avaient pas laiss\u00e9 une habitation debout dans le village.\nQuant au pauvre Thomas Jeffrys, comme il \u00e9tait bien mort, car on\nlui avait coup\u00e9 la gorge si profond\u00e9ment que sa t\u00eate \u00e9tait presque\nd\u00e9coll\u00e9e, ce n\u2019e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 la peine de l\u2019emporter. Ils le laiss\u00e8rent\ndonc o\u00f9 ils l\u2019avaient trouv\u00e9, seulement ils le descendirent de l\u2019arbre\no\u00f9 il \u00e9tait pendu par un bras.\nQuelque juste que sembl\u00e2t cette action \u00e0 nos marins, je n\u2019en demeurai\npas moins l\u00e0-dessus en opposition ouverte avec eux, et toujours depuis\nje leur disais que Dieu maudirait notre voyage; car je ne voyais dans\nle sang qu\u2019ils avaient fait couler durant cette nuit qu\u2019un meurtre\nqui pesait sur eux. Il est vrai que les Indiens avaient tu\u00e9 Thomas\nJeffrys; mais Thomas Jeffrys avait \u00e9t\u00e9 l\u2019agresseur, il avait rompu la\ntr\u00eave, et il avait enlev\u00e9 une de leurs jeunes filles qui \u00e9tait venue \u00e0\nnotre camp innocemment et sur la foi des trait\u00e9s.\nA bord, le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage d\u00e9fendit sa cause par la suite. Il disait\nqu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 nous semblions avoir rompu la tr\u00eave, mais qu\u2019il n\u2019en\n\u00e9tait rien; que la guerre avait \u00e9t\u00e9 ouverte la nuit pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente par\nles naturels eux-m\u00eames, qui avaient tir\u00e9 sur nous et avaient tu\u00e9 un\nde nos marins sans aucune provocation; que puisque nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 en\ndroit de les combattre, nous avions bien pu aussi \u00eatre en droit de\nnous faire justice d\u2019une fa\u00e7on extraordinaire; que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas une\nraison parce que le pauvre Tom avait pris quelques libert\u00e9s avec une\njeune Malgache, pour l\u2019assassiner et d\u2019une mani\u00e8re si atroce; enfin,\nqu\u2019ils n\u2019avaient rien fait que de juste, et qui, selon les lois de\nDieu, ne f\u00fbt \u00e0 faire aux meurtriers.\nOn va penser sans doute qu\u2019apr\u00e8s cet \u00e9v\u00e9nement nous nous donn\u00e2mes de\ngarde de nous aventurer \u00e0 terre parmi les pa\u00efens et les barbares;\nmais point du tout, les hommes ne deviennent sages qu\u2019\u00e0 leurs propres\nd\u00e9pens, et toujours l\u2019exp\u00e9rience semble leur \u00eatre d\u2019autant plus\nprofitable qu\u2019elle est plus ch\u00e8rement achet\u00e9e.\nNous \u00e9tions alors destin\u00e9s pour le golfe Persique et de l\u00e0 pour la\nc\u00f4te de Coromandel, en touchant seulement \u00e0 Surate; mais le principal\ndessein de notre subr\u00e9cargue l\u2019appelait dans la baie du Bengale, d\u2019o\u00f9,\ns\u2019il manquait l\u2019affaire pour laquelle il avait mission, il devait\naller \u00e0 la Chine, et revenir \u00e0 la c\u00f4te en s\u2019en retournant.\nLe premier d\u00e9sastre qui fondit sur nous ce fut dans le golfe Persique,\no\u00f9, s\u2019\u00e9tant aventur\u00e9s \u00e0 terre sur la c\u00f4te Arabique du golfe, cinq de\nnos hommes furent environn\u00e9s par les Arabes et tous tu\u00e9s ou emmen\u00e9s\nen esclavage: le reste des matelots montant l\u2019embarcation n\u2019avait pas\n\u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 m\u00eame de les d\u00e9livrer et n\u2019avait eu que le temps de regagner la\nchaloupe.\nJe montrai alors \u00e0 nos gens la juste r\u00e9tribution du ciel en ce cas;\nmais le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage me r\u00e9pondit avec chaleur que j\u2019allais trop\nloin dans mes censures que je ne saurais appuyer d\u2019aucun passage des\n\u00c9critures, et il s\u2019en r\u00e9f\u00e9ra au chapitre XIII de saint Luc, verset 4,\no\u00f9 notre Sauveur donne \u00e0 entendre que ceux sur lesquels la Tour de\nSilo\u00e9 tomba, n\u2019\u00e9taient pas plus coupables que les autres Galil\u00e9ens;\nmais ce qui me r\u00e9duisit tout de bon au silence en cette occasion,\nc\u2019est que pas un des cinq hommes que nous venions de perdre n\u2019\u00e9tait du\nnombre de ceux descendus \u00e0 terre lors du massacre de Madagascar,\u2014ainsi\ntoujours l\u2019appelais-je, quoique l\u2019\u00e9quipage ne p\u00fbt supporter\nqu\u2019impatiemment ce mot de massacre. Cette derni\u00e8re circonstance, comme\nje l\u2019ai dit, me ferma r\u00e9ellement la bouche pour le moment.\nMes sempiternels sermons \u00e0 ce sujet eurent des cons\u00e9quences pires que\nje ne m\u2019y attendais, et le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le chef\nde l\u2019entreprise, un beau jour vint \u00e0 moi hardiment et me dit qu\u2019il\ntrouvait que je remettais bien souvent cette affaire sur le tapis,\nque je faisais d\u2019injustes r\u00e9flexions l\u00e0-dessus et qu\u2019\u00e0 cet \u00e9gard j\u2019en\navais fort mal us\u00e9 avec l\u2019\u00e9quipage et avec lui-m\u00eame en particulier;\nque, comme je n\u2019\u00e9tais qu\u2019un passager, que je n\u2019avais ni commandement\ndans le navire, ni int\u00e9r\u00eat dans le voyage, ils n\u2019\u00e9taient pas oblig\u00e9s\nde supporter tout cela; qu\u2019apr\u00e8s tout qui leur disait que je n\u2019avais\npas quelque mauvais dessein en t\u00eate, et ne leur susciterais pas un\nproc\u00e8s quand ils seraient de retour en Angleterre; enfin, que si je\nne me d\u00e9terminais pas \u00e0 en finir et \u00e0 ne plus me m\u00ealer de lui et de\nses affaires, il quitterait le navire, car il ne croyait pas qu\u2019il f\u00fbt\nsain de voyager avec moi.\nJe l\u2019\u00e9coutai assez patiemment jusqu\u2019au bout, puis je lui r\u00e9pliquai\nqu\u2019il \u00e9tait parfaitement vrai que je m\u2019\u00e9tais toujours oppos\u00e9 au\nmassacre de Madagascar, car je ne d\u00e9mordais pas de l\u2019appeler ainsi, et\nqu\u2019en toute occasion j\u2019en avais parl\u00e9 fort \u00e0 mon aise, sans l\u2019avoir\nen vue lui plus que les autres; qu\u2019\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je n\u2019avais point de\ncommandement dans le navire et n\u2019y exer\u00e7ais aucune autorit\u00e9, mais\nque je prenais la libert\u00e9 d\u2019exprimer mon opinion sur des choses qui\nvisiblement nous concernaient tous.\u2014\u00abQuant \u00e0 mon int\u00e9r\u00eat dans le\nvoyage, ajoutai-je, vous n\u2019y entendez goutte: je suis propri\u00e9taire\npour une grosse part dans ce navire, et en cette qualit\u00e9 je me\ncrois quelque droit de parler, m\u00eame plus que je ne l\u2019ai encore fait,\nsans avoir de comptes \u00e0 rendre ni \u00e0 vous ni \u00e0 personne autre.\u00bb\u2014Je\ncommen\u00e7ais \u00e0 m\u2019\u00e9chauffer: il ne me r\u00e9pondit que peu de chose cette\nfois, et je crus l\u2019affaire termin\u00e9e. Nous \u00e9tions alors en rade au\nBengale, et, d\u00e9sireux de voir le pays, je me rendis \u00e0 terre, dans la\nchaloupe, avec le subr\u00e9cargue, pour me r\u00e9cr\u00e9er. Vers le soir, je me\npr\u00e9parais \u00e0 retourner \u00e0 bord, quand un des matelots s\u2019approcha de\nmoi et me dit qu\u2019il voulait m\u2019\u00e9pargner la peine[31] de regagner la\nchaloupe, car ils avaient ordre de ne point me ramener \u00e0 bord. On\ndevine quelle fut ma surprise \u00e0 cet insolent message. Je demandai\nau matelot qui l\u2019avait charg\u00e9 de cette mission pr\u00e8s de moi. Il me\nr\u00e9pondit que c\u2019\u00e9tait le patron de la chaloupe; je n\u2019en dis pas\ndavantage \u00e0 ce gar\u00e7on, mais je lui ordonnai d\u2019aller faire savoir \u00e0\nqui de droit qu\u2019il avait rempli son message, et que je n\u2019y avais fait\naucune r\u00e9ponse.\nJ\u2019allai imm\u00e9diatement retrouver le subr\u00e9cargue, et lui contai\nl\u2019histoire, ajoutant qu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019heure m\u00eame je pressentais qu\u2019une\nmutinerie devait \u00e9clater \u00e0 bord. Je le suppliai donc de s\u2019y rendre\nsur-le-champ dans un canot indien pour donner l\u2019\u00e9veil au capitaine;\nmais j\u2019aurais pu me dispenser de cette communication, car avant\nm\u00eame que je lui eusse parl\u00e9 \u00e0 terre, le coup \u00e9tait frapp\u00e9 \u00e0 bord.\nLe ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage, le canonnier et le charpentier, et en un mot\ntous les officiers inf\u00e9rieurs, aussit\u00f4t que je fus descendu dans la\nchaloupe, se r\u00e9unirent vers le gaillard d\u2019arri\u00e8re et demand\u00e8rent \u00e0\nparler au capitaine. L\u00e0, le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage faisant une longue\nharangue,\u2014car le camarade s\u2019exprimait fort bien,\u2014et r\u00e9p\u00e9tant tout ce\nqu\u2019il m\u2019avait dit, lui d\u00e9clara en peu de mots que, puisque je m\u2019en\n\u00e9tais all\u00e9 paisiblement \u00e0 terre, il leur serait p\u00e9nible d\u2019user de\nviolence envers moi, ce qu\u2019autrement, si je ne me fusse retir\u00e9 de\nmoi-m\u00eame, ils auraient fait pour m\u2019obliger \u00e0 m\u2019\u00e9loigner.\u2014\u00abCapitaine,\npoursuivit-il, nous croyons donc devoir vous dire que, comme nous nous\nsommes embarqu\u00e9s pour servir sous vos ordres, notre d\u00e9sir est de les\naccomplir avec fid\u00e9lit\u00e9; mais que si cet homme ne veut pas quitter\nle navire, ni vous, capitaine, le contraindre \u00e0 le quitter, nous\nabandonnerons tous le b\u00e2timent; nous vous laisserons en route.\u00bb\u2014Au mot\ntous, il se tourna vers le grand m\u00e2t, ce qui \u00e9tait, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet,\nle signal convenu entre eux, et l\u00e0-dessus tous les matelots qui se\ntrouvaient l\u00e0 r\u00e9unis se mirent \u00e0 crier:\u2014\u00abOui, tous! tous!\u00bb\nMon neveu le capitaine \u00e9tait un homme de c\u0153ur et d\u2019une grande\npr\u00e9sence d\u2019esprit. Quoique surpris assur\u00e9ment \u00e0 cette incartade, il\nleur r\u00e9pondit cependant avec calme qu\u2019il examinerait la question, mais\nqu\u2019il ne pouvait rien d\u00e9cider l\u00e0-dessus avant de m\u2019en avoir parl\u00e9.\nPour leur montrer la d\u00e9raison et l\u2019injustice de la chose, il employa\nquelques arguments; mais ce fut en vain. Ils jur\u00e8rent devant lui, en\nse secouant la main \u00e0 la ronde, qu\u2019ils s\u2019en iraient tous \u00e0 terre, \u00e0\nmoins qu\u2019il ne prom\u00eet de ne point souffrir que je revinsse \u00e0 bord du\nnavire.\nLa clause \u00e9tait dure pour mon neveu, qui sentait toute l\u2019obligation\nqu\u2019il m\u2019avait, et ne savait comment je prendrais cela. Aussi\ncommen\u00e7a-t-il \u00e0 leur parler cavali\u00e8rement. Il leur dit que j\u2019\u00e9tais\nun des plus consid\u00e9rables int\u00e9ress\u00e9s dans ce navire, et qu\u2019en bonne\njustice il ne pouvait me mettre \u00e0 la porte de ma propre maison; que\nce serait me traiter \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s \u00e0 la mani\u00e8re du fameux pirate Kid,\nqui fomenta une r\u00e9volte \u00e0 bord, d\u00e9posa le capitaine dans une \u00eele\ninhabit\u00e9e et fit la course avec le navire; qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient libres de\ns\u2019embarquer sur le vaisseau qu\u2019ils voudraient, mais que si jamais\nils reparaissaient en Angleterre, il leur en co\u00fbterait cher; que\nle b\u00e2timent \u00e9tait le mien, qu\u2019il ne pouvait m\u2019en chasser, et qu\u2019il\naimerait mieux perdre le navire et l\u2019exp\u00e9dition aussi, que de me\nd\u00e9sobliger \u00e0 ce point; donc, qu\u2019ils pouvaient agir comme bon leur\nsemblait. Toutefois, il voulut aller \u00e0 terre pour s\u2019entretenir avec\nmoi, et invita le ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage \u00e0 le suivre, esp\u00e9rant qu\u2019ils\npourraient accommoder l\u2019affaire.\nIls s\u2019oppos\u00e8rent tous \u00e0 cette d\u00e9marche, disant qu\u2019ils ne voulaient\nplus avoir aucune esp\u00e8ce de rapport avec moi, ni sur terre ni sur mer,\net que si je remettais le pied \u00e0 bord, ils s\u2019en iraient.\u2014\u00abEh bien! dit\nle capitaine, si vous \u00eates tous de cet avis, laissez-moi aller \u00e0 terre\npour causer avec lui.\u00bb\u2014Il vint donc me trouver avec cette nouvelle, un\npeu apr\u00e8s le message qui m\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 apport\u00e9 de la part du patron de\nla chaloupe, du _Cockswain_.\nJe fus charm\u00e9 de revoir mon neveu, je dois l\u2019avouer, dans\nl\u2019appr\u00e9hension o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais qu\u2019ils ne se fussent saisis de lui pour\nmettre \u00e0 la voile, et faire la course avec le navire. Alors j\u2019aurais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9 dans une contr\u00e9e lointaine d\u00e9nu\u00e9 et sans ressource, et je me\nserais trouv\u00e9 dans une condition pire que lorsque j\u2019\u00e9tais tout seul\ndans mon \u00eele.\nMais heureusement ils n\u2019all\u00e8rent pas jusque-l\u00e0, \u00e0 ma grande\nsatisfaction; et quand mon neveu me raconta ce qu\u2019ils lui avaient dit,\ncomment ils avaient jur\u00e9, en se serrant la main, d\u2019abandonner tous le\nb\u00e2timent s\u2019il souffrait que je rentrasse \u00e0 bord, je le priai de ne\npoint se tourmenter de cela, car je d\u00e9sirais rester \u00e0 terre. Seulement\nje lui demandai de vouloir bien m\u2019envoyer tous mes effets et de me\nlaisser une somme suffisante, pour que je fusse \u00e0 m\u00eame de regagner\nl\u2019Angleterre aussi bien que possible.\nCe fut un rude coup pour mon neveu, mais il n\u2019y avait pas moyen de\nparer \u00e0 cela, il fallait se r\u00e9signer. Il revint donc \u00e0 bord du navire\net annon\u00e7a \u00e0 ses hommes que son oncle c\u00e9dait \u00e0 leur importunit\u00e9, et\nenvoyait chercher ses bagages. Ainsi tout fut termin\u00e9 en quelques\nheures: les mutins retourn\u00e8rent \u00e0 leur devoir, et moi je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nsonger \u00e0 ce que j\u2019allais devenir.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais seul dans la contr\u00e9e la plus recul\u00e9e du monde: je puis bien\nl\u2019appeler ainsi, car je me trouvais d\u2019environ trois mille lieues par\nmer plus loin de l\u2019Angleterre que je ne l\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans mon \u00eele.\nSeulement, \u00e0 dire vrai, il m\u2019\u00e9tait possible de traverser par terre le\npays du Grand-Mogol jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Surate, d\u2019aller de l\u00e0 \u00e0 Bassora par mer,\nen remontant le golfe Persique, de prendre le chemin des caravanes\n\u00e0 travers les d\u00e9serts de l\u2019Arabie jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Alep et Scanderoun, puis\nde l\u00e0, par mer, de gagner l\u2019Italie, et enfin de traverser la France;\nadditionn\u00e9 tout ensemble, ceci \u00e9quivaudrait au moins au diam\u00e8tre\nentier du globe, et mesur\u00e9, je suppose que cela pr\u00e9senterait bien\ndavantage.\nUn autre moyen s\u2019offrait encore \u00e0 moi: c\u2019\u00e9tait celui d\u2019attendre les\nb\u00e2timents anglais qui se rendent au Bengale, venant d\u2019Achem dans\nl\u2019\u00eele de Sumatra, et de prendre passage \u00e0 bord de l\u2019un d\u2019eux pour\nl\u2019Angleterre; mais comme je n\u2019\u00e9tais point venu l\u00e0 sous le bon plaisir\nde la Compagnie anglaise des Indes Orientales, il devait m\u2019\u00eatre\ndifficile d\u2019en sortir sans sa permission, \u00e0 moins d\u2019une grande faveur\ndes capitaines de navire ou des facteurs de la Compagnie, et aux uns\net aux autres j\u2019\u00e9tais absolument \u00e9tranger.\nL\u00e0, j\u2019eus le singulier plaisir, parlant par antiphrase, de voir le\nb\u00e2timent mettre \u00e0 la voile sans moi: traitement que sans doute jamais\nhomme dans ma position n\u2019avait subi, si ce n\u2019est de la part de pirates\nfaisant la course et d\u00e9posant \u00e0 terre ceux qui ne tremperaient point\ndans leur infamie. Ceci sous tous les rapports n\u2019y ressemblait pas\nmal. Toutefois, mon neveu m\u2019avait laiss\u00e9 deux serviteurs, ou plut\u00f4t\nun compagnon et un serviteur: le premier \u00e9tait le secr\u00e9taire du\ncommis aux vivres, qui s\u2019\u00e9tait engag\u00e9 \u00e0 me suivre, et le second \u00e9tait\nson propre domestique. Je pris un bon logement dans la maison d\u2019une\ndame anglaise, o\u00f9 logeaient plusieurs n\u00e9gociants, quelques Fran\u00e7ais,\ndeux Italiens, ou plut\u00f4t deux Juifs, et un Anglais. J\u2019y \u00e9tais assez\nbien trait\u00e9; et, pour qu\u2019il ne f\u00fbt pas dit que je courais \u00e0 tout\ninconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment, je demeurai l\u00e0 plus de neuf mois \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur le\nparti que je devais prendre et sur la conduite que je devais tenir.\nJ\u2019avais avec moi des marchandises anglaises de valeur et une somme\nconsid\u00e9rable en argent: mon neveu m\u2019avait remis mille pi\u00e8ces de huit\net une lettre de cr\u00e9dit suppl\u00e9mentaire en cas que j\u2019en eusse besoin,\nafin que je ne pusse \u00eatre g\u00ean\u00e9 quoiqu\u2019il adv\u00eent.\nJe trouvai un d\u00e9bit prompt et avantageux de mes marchandises; et comme\nje me l\u2019\u00e9tais primitivement propos\u00e9, j\u2019achetai de fort beaux diamants,\nce qui me convenait le mieux dans ma situation, parce que je pouvais\ntoujours porter tout mon bien avec moi.\nApr\u00e8s un long s\u00e9jour en ce lieu, et bon nombre de projets form\u00e9s\npour mon retour en Angleterre, sans qu\u2019aucun r\u00e9pond\u00eet \u00e0 mon d\u00e9sir,\nle n\u00e9gociant anglais qui logeait avec moi, et avec lequel j\u2019avais\ncontract\u00e9 une liaison intime, vint me trouver un matin:\u2014\u00abCompatriote,\nme dit-il, j\u2019ai un projet \u00e0 vous communiquer; comme il s\u2019accorde avec\nmes id\u00e9es, je crois qu\u2019il doit cadrer avec les v\u00f4tres \u00e9galement, quand\nvous y aurez bien r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi.\n\u00abIci nous sommes plac\u00e9s, ajouta-t-il, vous par accident, moi par mon\nchoix, dans une partie du monde fort \u00e9loign\u00e9e de notre patrie; mais\nc\u2019est une contr\u00e9e o\u00f9 nous pouvons, nous qui entendons le commerce\net les affaires, gagner beaucoup d\u2019argent. Si vous voulez joindre\nmille livres sterling aux mille livres sterling que je poss\u00e8de, nous\nlouerons ici un b\u00e2timent, le premier qui pourra nous convenir. Vous\nserez le capitaine, moi je serai le n\u00e9gociant, et nous ferons un\nvoyage de commerce \u00e0 la Chine. Pourquoi demeurerions-nous tranquilles?\nLe monde entier est en mouvement, roulant et circulant sans cesse;\ntoutes les cr\u00e9atures de Dieu, les corps c\u00e9lestes et terrestres sont\noccup\u00e9s et diligents: pourquoi serions-nous oisifs? Il n\u2019y a point\ndans l\u2019univers de fain\u00e9ants, si ce n\u2019est parmi les hommes: pourquoi\ngrossirions-nous le nombre des fain\u00e9ants?\u00bb\nJe go\u00fbtai fort cette proposition, surtout parce qu\u2019elle semblait faite\navec beaucoup de bon vouloir et d\u2019une mani\u00e8re amicale. Je ne dirai pas\nque ma situation isol\u00e9e et d\u00e9tach\u00e9e me rendait plus que toute autre\nsituation propre \u00e0 embrasser une entreprise commerciale: le n\u00e9goce\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas mon \u00e9l\u00e9ment; mais je puis bien dire avec v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que si le\ncommerce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas mon \u00e9l\u00e9ment, une vie errante l\u2019\u00e9tait; et jamais\nproposition d\u2019aller visiter quelque coin du monde que je n\u2019avais point\nencore vu ne pouvait m\u2019arriver mal \u00e0 propos.\nIl se passa toutefois quelque temps avant que nous eussions pu nous\nprocurer un navire \u00e0 notre gr\u00e9; et quand nous e\u00fbmes un navire, il\nne fut pas ais\u00e9 de trouver des marins anglais, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire autant\nqu\u2019il en fallait pour gouverner le navire et diriger les matelots\nque nous prendrions sur les lieux. A la fin cependant nous trouv\u00e2mes\nun lieutenant, un ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage et un canonnier anglais, un\ncharpentier hollandais, et trois Portugais, matelots du gaillard\nd\u2019avant; avec ce monde et des marins indiens tels quels nous pens\u00e2mes\nque nous pourrions passer outre.\nIl y a tant de voyageurs qui ont d\u00e9crit l\u2019histoire de leurs voyages et\nde leurs exp\u00e9ditions dans ces parages, qu\u2019il serait pour tout le monde\nassez insipide de donner une longue relation des lieux o\u00f9 nous all\u00e2mes\net des peuples qui les habitent. Je laisse cette besogne \u00e0 d\u2019autres,\net je renvoie le lecteur aux journaux des voyageurs anglais, dont\nbeaucoup sont d\u00e9j\u00e0 publi\u00e9s et beaucoup plus encore sont promis chaque\njour. C\u2019est assez pour moi de vous dire que nous nous rend\u00eemes d\u2019abord\n\u00e0 Achem, dans l\u2019\u00eele de Sumatra, puis de l\u00e0 \u00e0 Siam, o\u00f9 nous \u00e9change\u00e2mes\nquelques-unes de nos marchandises contre de l\u2019opium et de l\u2019arack; le\npremier est un article d\u2019un grand prix chez les Chinois, et dont ils\nmanquaient \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque. En un mot, nous all\u00e2mes jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Sung-Kiang;\nnous f\u00eemes un tr\u00e8s grand voyage; nous demeur\u00e2mes huit mois dehors, et\nnous retourn\u00e2mes au Bengale. Pour ma part, je fus grandement satisfait\nde mon entreprise.\u2014J\u2019ai remarqu\u00e9 qu\u2019en Angleterre souvent on s\u2019\u00e9tonne\nde ce que les officiers que la Compagnie envoie aux Indes et les\nn\u00e9gociants qui g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement s\u2019y \u00e9tablissent, amassent de si grands\nbiens et quelquefois reviennent riches \u00e0 soixante, soixante-dix, cent\nmille livres sterling.\nMais ce n\u2019est pas merveilleux, ou du moins cela s\u2019explique, quand\non consid\u00e8re le nombre innombrable de ports et de comptoirs o\u00f9 le\ncommerce est libre, et surtout quand on songe que, dans tous ces\nlieux, ces ports fr\u00e9quent\u00e9s par les navires anglais il se fait\nconstamment des demandes si consid\u00e9rables de tous les produits\n\u00e9trangers, que les marchandises qu\u2019on y porte y sont toujours d\u2019une\naussi bonne d\u00e9faite que celles qu\u2019on en exporte.\nBref, nous f\u00eemes un fort bon voyage, et je gagnai tant d\u2019argent dans\ncette premi\u00e8re exp\u00e9dition, et j\u2019acquis de telles notions sur la\nmani\u00e8re d\u2019en gagner davantage, que si j\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 de vingt ans plus\njeune, j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 tent\u00e9 de me fixer en ce pays, et n\u2019aurais pas\ncherch\u00e9 fortune plus loin. Mais qu\u2019\u00e9tait tout ceci pour un homme qui\navait pass\u00e9 la soixantaine, pour un homme bien assez riche, venu dans\nces climats lointains plut\u00f4t pour ob\u00e9ir \u00e0 un d\u00e9sir impatient de voir\nle monde qu\u2019au d\u00e9sir cupide d\u2019y faire grand gain? Et c\u2019est vraiment\n\u00e0 bon droit, je pense, que j\u2019appelle ce d\u00e9sir impatient; car c\u2019en\n\u00e9tait l\u00e0: quand j\u2019\u00e9tais chez moi j\u2019\u00e9tais impatient de courir, et quand\nj\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9tranger j\u2019\u00e9tais impatient de revenir chez moi. Je le\nr\u00e9p\u00e8te, que m\u2019importait ce gain? D\u00e9j\u00e0 bien assez riche, je n\u2019avais\nnul d\u00e9sir importun d\u2019accro\u00eetre mes richesses; et c\u2019est pourquoi les\nprofits de ce voyage me furent choses trop inf\u00e9rieures pour me pousser\n\u00e0 de nouvelles entreprises. Il me semblait que dans cette exp\u00e9dition\nje n\u2019avais fait aucun lucre, parce que j\u2019\u00e9tais revenu au lieu d\u2019o\u00f9\nj\u2019\u00e9tais parti, \u00e0 la maison, en quelque sorte; d\u2019autant que mon \u0153il,\ncomme celui dont parle Salomon, n\u2019\u00e9tait jamais rassasi\u00e9, et que je me\nsentais de plus en plus d\u00e9sireux de courir et de voir. J\u2019\u00e9tais venu\ndans une partie du monde que je n\u2019avais jamais visit\u00e9e, celle dont\nplus particuli\u00e8rement j\u2019avais beaucoup entendu parler, et j\u2019\u00e9tais\nr\u00e9solu \u00e0 la parcourir autant que possible: apr\u00e8s quoi, pensais-je, je\npourrais dire que j\u2019avais vu tout ce qui au monde est digne d\u2019\u00eatre vu.\nMais mon compagnon de voyage et moi nous avions une id\u00e9e diff\u00e9rente.\nJe ne dis pas cela pour insister sur la mienne, car je reconnais\nque la sienne \u00e9tait la plus juste et la plus conforme au but d\u2019un\nn\u00e9gociant, dont toute la sagesse, lorsqu\u2019il est au dehors en op\u00e9ration\ncommerciale, se r\u00e9sume en cela, que pour lui la chose la meilleure est\ncelle qui peut lui faire gagner le plus d\u2019argent. Mon nouvel ami s\u2019en\ntenait au positif, et se serait content\u00e9 d\u2019aller, comme un cheval de\nroulier, toujours \u00e0 la m\u00eame auberge, au d\u00e9part et au retour, pourvu,\nselon sa propre expression, qu\u2019il y p\u00fbt trouver son compte. Mon id\u00e9e,\nau contraire, tout vieux que j\u2019\u00e9tais, ressemblait fort \u00e0 celle d\u2019un\n\u00e9colier fantasque et buissonnier qui ne se soucie point de voir une\nchose deux fois.\nOr ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas tout. J\u2019avais une sorte d\u2019impatience de me\nrapprocher de chez moi, et cependant pas la moindre r\u00e9solution arr\u00eat\u00e9e\nsur la route \u00e0 prendre. Durant cette ind\u00e9termination, mon ami, qui\n\u00e9tait toujours \u00e0 la recherche des affaires, me proposa un autre voyage\naux \u00eeles des \u00c9pices pour rapporter une cargaison de clous de girofle\nde Manille ou des environs, lieux o\u00f9 vraiment les Hollandais font\ntout le commerce, bien qu\u2019ils appartiennent en partie aux Espagnols.\nToutefois nous ne pouss\u00e2mes pas si loin, nous nous en t\u00eenmes seulement\n\u00e0 quelques autres places o\u00f9 ils n\u2019ont pas un pouvoir absolu comme ils\nl\u2019ont \u00e0 Batavia, Ceylan _et c\u00e6tera_. Nous n\u2019avions pas \u00e9t\u00e9 longs \u00e0\nnous pr\u00e9parer pour cette exp\u00e9dition: la difficult\u00e9 principale avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 de m\u2019y engager. Cependant, \u00e0 la fin rien autre ne s\u2019\u00e9tant offert\net trouvant qu\u2019apr\u00e8s tout rouler et trafiquer avec un profit si grand,\net je puis bien dire certain, \u00e9tait chose plus agr\u00e9able en soi et plus\nconforme \u00e0 mon humeur que de rester inactif, ce qui pour moi \u00e9tait une\nmort, je m\u2019\u00e9tais d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 ce voyage. Nous le f\u00eemes avec un grand\nsucc\u00e8s, et, touchant \u00e0 Born\u00e9o et \u00e0 plusieurs autres \u00eeles dont je ne\npuis me rem\u00e9morer le nom, nous rev\u00eenmes au bout de cinq mois environ.\nNous vend\u00eemes nos \u00e9pices, qui consistaient principalement en clous\nde girofle et en noix muscades, \u00e0 des n\u00e9gociants persans, qui les\nexp\u00e9di\u00e8rent pour le Golfe; nous gagn\u00e2mes cinq pour un, et nous e\u00fbmes\nr\u00e9ellement un b\u00e9n\u00e9fice \u00e9norme.\nMon ami, quand nous r\u00e9gl\u00e2mes ce compte, me regarda en souriant:\u2014\u00abEh\nbien! maintenant, me dit-il, se moquant aimablement de ma nonchalance,\nceci ne vaut-il pas mieux que de tr\u00f4ler \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 comme un homme\nd\u00e9s\u0153uvr\u00e9, et de perdre notre temps \u00e0 nous \u00e9bahir de la sottise et de\nl\u2019ignorance des pa\u00efens?\u00bb\u2014\u00abVraiment, mon ami, r\u00e9pondis-je, je le crois\net commence \u00e0 me convertir aux principes du n\u00e9goce; mais souffrez que\nje vous le dise en passant, vous ne savez ce dont je suis capable; car\nsi une bonne fois je surmonte mon indolence, et m\u2019embarque r\u00e9solument,\ntout vieux que je suis, je vous harasserai de c\u00f4t\u00e9 et d\u2019autre par le\nmonde jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que vous n\u2019en puissiez plus; car je prendrai si\nchaudement l\u2019affaire \u00e0 c\u0153ur, que je ne vous laisserai point de r\u00e9pit.\u00bb\nOr, pour couper court \u00e0 mes sp\u00e9culations, peu de temps apr\u00e8s ceci\narriva un b\u00e2timent hollandais venant de Batavia; ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas un\nnavire marchand europ\u00e9en, mais un caboteur, du port d\u2019environ deux\ncents tonneaux. L\u2019\u00e9quipage, pr\u00e9tendait-on, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 si malade, que le\ncapitaine, n\u2019ayant pas assez de monde pour tenir la mer, s\u2019\u00e9tait vu\nforc\u00e9 de rel\u00e2cher au Bengale; et comme s\u2019il e\u00fbt assez gagn\u00e9 d\u2019argent,\nou qu\u2019il souhait\u00e2t pour d\u2019autres raisons d\u2019aller en Europe, il fit\nannoncer publiquement qu\u2019il d\u00e9sirait vendre son vaisseau. Cet avis me\nvint aux oreilles avant que mon nouveau partner n\u2019en e\u00fbt ou\u00ef parler,\net il me prit grandement envie de faire cette acquisition. J\u2019allai\ndonc le trouver et je lui en touchai quelques mots. Il r\u00e9fl\u00e9chit\nun moment, car il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas homme \u00e0 s\u2019empresser; puis, apr\u00e8s\ncette pause, il r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abIl est un peu trop gros; mais cependant\nprenons-le.\u00bb\u2014En cons\u00e9quence, tombant d\u2019accord avec le capitaine, nous\nachet\u00e2mes ce navire, le pay\u00e2mes et en pr\u00eemes possession. Ceci fait,\nnous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes d\u2019embaucher les gens de l\u2019\u00e9quipage pour les joindre aux\nhommes que nous avions d\u00e9j\u00e0 et poursuivre notre affaire. Mais tout \u00e0\ncoup, ayant re\u00e7u non leurs gages, mais leur part de l\u2019argent, comme\nnous l\u2019appr\u00eemes plus tard, il ne fut plus possible d\u2019en retrouver un\nseul. Nous nous enqu\u00eemes d\u2019eux partout, et \u00e0 la fin nous appr\u00eemes\nqu\u2019ils \u00e9taient partis tous ensemble par terre pour Agra, la grande\ncit\u00e9, r\u00e9sidence du Mogol, \u00e0 dessein de se rendre de l\u00e0 \u00e0 Surate, puis\nde gagner par mer le golfe Persique.\nRien depuis longtemps ne m\u2019avait autant chagrin\u00e9 que d\u2019avoir manqu\u00e9\nl\u2019occasion de partir avec eux. Un tel p\u00e8lerinage, m\u2019imaginais-je,\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 pour moi, en pareille compagnie, tout \u00e0 la fois agr\u00e9able et\ns\u00fbr, et aurait compl\u00e8tement cadr\u00e9 avec mon grand projet: j\u2019aurais vu\nle monde et en m\u00eame temps je me serais rapproch\u00e9 de ma patrie. Mais\nje fus beaucoup moins inconsolable peu de jours apr\u00e8s quand je vins\n\u00e0 savoir quelle sorte de compagnons c\u2019\u00e9taient, car, en peu de mots,\nvoici leur histoire. L\u2019homme qu\u2019ils appelaient capitaine n\u2019\u00e9tait\nque le canonnier et non le commandant. Dans le cours d\u2019un voyage\ncommercial ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 attaqu\u00e9s sur le rivage par quelques Malais,\nqui tu\u00e8rent le capitaine et trois de ses hommes. Apr\u00e8s cette perte,\nnos dr\u00f4les, au nombre de onze, avaient r\u00e9solu de s\u2019enfuir avec le\nb\u00e2timent, ce qu\u2019ils avaient fait, et l\u2019avaient amen\u00e9 dans le golfe du\nBengale, abandonnant \u00e0 terre le lieutenant et cinq matelots, dont nous\naurons des nouvelles plus loin.\nN\u2019importe par quelle voie ce navire leur \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9 entre les mains,\nnous l\u2019avions acquis honn\u00eatement, pensions-nous, quoique, je l\u2019avoue,\nnous n\u2019eussions pas examin\u00e9 la chose aussi exactement que nous le\ndevions; car nous n\u2019avions fait aucune question aux matelots, qui,\nsi nous les avions sond\u00e9s, se seraient assur\u00e9ment coup\u00e9s dans leurs\nr\u00e9cits, se seraient d\u00e9mentis r\u00e9ciproquement, peut-\u00eatre contredits\neux-m\u00eames, et d\u2019une mani\u00e8re ou d\u2019une autre nous auraient donn\u00e9 lieu de\nles suspecter. L\u2019homme nous avait montr\u00e9 un contrat de vente du navire\n\u00e0 un certain Emmanuel Clostershoven ou quelque nom semblable, forg\u00e9\ncomme tout le reste, je suppose, qui soi-disant \u00e9tait le sien, ce que\nnous n\u2019avions pu mettre en doute; et, un peu trop inconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment ou\ndu moins n\u2019ayant aucun soup\u00e7on de la chose, nous avions conclu le\nmarch\u00e9.\nQuoi qu\u2019il en f\u00fbt, apr\u00e8s cet achat nous enr\u00f4l\u00e2mes des marins anglais\net hollandais, et nous nous d\u00e9termin\u00e2mes \u00e0 faire un second voyage\ndans le sud-est pour aller chercher des clous de girofle et autres\n\u00e9pices aux \u00eeles Philippines et aux Moluques. Bref, pour ne pas remplir\nde bagatelles cette partie de mon histoire, quand la suite en est\nsi remarquable, je passai en tout six ans dans ces contr\u00e9es, allant\net revenant et trafiquant de port en port avec beaucoup de succ\u00e8s.\nLa derni\u00e8re ann\u00e9e, j\u2019entrepris avec mon partner, sur le vaisseau\nci-dessus mentionn\u00e9, un voyage en Chine, convenus que nous \u00e9tions\nd\u2019aller d\u2019abord \u00e0 Siam pour y acheter du riz.\nDans cette exp\u00e9dition, contrari\u00e9s par les vents, nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s\nde louvoyer longtemps \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans le d\u00e9troit de Malacca et parmi\nles \u00eeles, et comme nous sortions de ces mers difficiles, nous nous\naper\u00e7\u00fbmes que le navire avait fait une voie d\u2019eau: malgr\u00e9 toute notre\nhabilet\u00e9, nous ne pouvions d\u00e9couvrir o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait. Cette avarie nous\nfor\u00e7a de chercher quelque port, et mon partner, qui connaissait le\npays mieux que moi, conseilla au capitaine d\u2019entrer dans la rivi\u00e8re\nde Camboge, car j\u2019avais fait capitaine le lieutenant anglais, un M.\nThompson, ne voulant point me charger du commandement du navire, Cette\nrivi\u00e8re coule au nord de la grande baie ou golfe qui remonte jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nSiam.\nTandis que nous \u00e9tions mouill\u00e9s l\u00e0, allant souvent \u00e0 terre me r\u00e9cr\u00e9er,\nun jour vint \u00e0 moi un Anglais, second canonnier, si je ne me trompe,\n\u00e0 bord d\u2019un navire de la Compagnie des Indes Orientales, \u00e0 l\u2019ancre\nplus haut dans la m\u00eame rivi\u00e8re pr\u00e8s de la ville de Camboge ou \u00e0\nCamboge m\u00eame. Qui l\u2019avait amen\u00e9 en ce lieu? Je ne sais; mais il vint \u00e0\nmoi, et, m\u2019adressant la parole en anglais:\u2014\u00abSir, dit-il, vous m\u2019\u00eates\n\u00e9tranger et je vous le suis \u00e9galement; cependant j\u2019ai \u00e0 vous dire\nquelque chose qui vous touche de tr\u00e8s pr\u00e8s.\u00bb\n[Illustration: Un jour vint \u00e0 moi un Anglais...]\nJe le regardai longtemps fixement, et je crus d\u2019abord le reconna\u00eetre;\nmais je me trompais.\u2014\u00abSi cela me touche de tr\u00e8s pr\u00e8s, lui dis-je,\net ne vous touche point vous-m\u00eame, qui vous porte \u00e0 me le\ncommuniquer?\u00bb\u2014\u00abCe qui m\u2019y porte, c\u2019est le danger imminent o\u00f9 vous\n\u00eates, et dont je vois que vous n\u2019avez aucune connaissance.\u00bb\u2014\u00abTout\nle danger o\u00f9 je suis que je sache, c\u2019est que mon navire a fait une\nvoie d\u2019eau que je ne puis trouver; mais je me propose de le mettre \u00e0\nterre demain pour t\u00e2cher de la d\u00e9couvrir.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMais, sir, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il,\nqu\u2019il ait fait ou non une voie, que vous l\u2019ayez trouv\u00e9e ou non, vous\nne serez pas si fou que de le mettre \u00e0 terre demain quand vous aurez\nentendu ce que j\u2019ai \u00e0 vous dire. Savez-vous, sir, que la ville de\nCamboge n\u2019est gu\u00e8re qu\u2019\u00e0 quinze lieues plus haut sur cette rivi\u00e8re\net qu\u2019environ \u00e0 cinq lieues de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 il y a deux gros b\u00e2timents\nanglais et trois hollandais?\u00bb\u2014\u00abEh bien! qu\u2019est-ce que cela me fait,\n\u00e0 moi? repartis-je.\u00bb\u2014\u00abQuoi! sir, reprit-il, appartient-il \u00e0 un homme\nqui cherche certaine aventure comme vous faites d\u2019entrer dans un port\nsans examiner auparavant quels vaisseaux s\u2019y trouvent, et s\u2019il est\nde force \u00e0 se mesurer avec eux? Je ne suppose pas que vous pensiez\nla partie \u00e9gale.\u00bb\u2014Ce discours m\u2019avait fort amus\u00e9, mais pas effray\u00e9\nle moins du monde, car je ne savais ce qu\u2019il signifiait. Et me\ntournant brusquement vers notre inconnu, je lui dis:\u2014\u00abSir, je vous\nprie, expliquez-vous; je n\u2019imagine pas quelle raison je puis avoir de\nredouter les navires de la Compagnie, ou des b\u00e2timents hollandais: je\nne suis point interlope. Que peuvent-ils avoir \u00e0 me dire?\u00bb\nIl prit un air moiti\u00e9 col\u00e8re, moiti\u00e9 plaisant, garda un instant le\nsilence, puis souriant:\u2014\u00abFort bien, sir, me dit-il, si vous vous\ncroyez en s\u00fbret\u00e9, \u00e0 vos souhaits! je suis pourtant f\u00e2ch\u00e9 que votre\ndestin\u00e9e vous rende sourd \u00e0 un bon avis; sur l\u2019honneur, je vous\nl\u2019assure, si vous ne regagnez la mer imm\u00e9diatement, vous serez\nattaqu\u00e9s \u00e0 la prochaine mar\u00e9e par cinq chaloupes bien \u00e9quip\u00e9es, et\npeut-\u00eatre, si l\u2019on vous prend, serez-vous pendus comme pirates, sauf\n\u00e0 informer apr\u00e8s. Sir, je pensais trouver un meilleur accueil en\nvous rendant un service d\u2019une telle importance.\u00bb\u2014\u00abJe ne saurais \u00eatre\nm\u00e9connaissant d\u2019aucun service, ni envers aucun homme qui me t\u00e9moigne\nde l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat; mais cela passe ma compr\u00e9hension, qu\u2019on puisse avoir\nun tel dessein contre moi. Quoi qu\u2019il en soit, puisque vous me dites\nqu\u2019il n\u2019y a point de temps \u00e0 perdre, et qu\u2019on ourdit contre moi\nquelque odieuse trame, je retourne \u00e0 bord sur-le-champ et je remets\nimm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 la voile, si mes hommes peuvent \u00e9tancher la voie d\u2019eau\nou si malgr\u00e9 cela nous pouvons tenir la mer. Mais, sir, partirai-je\nsans savoir la raison de tout ceci? Ne pourriez-vous me donner\nl\u00e0-dessus quelques lumi\u00e8res?\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abJe ne puis vous conter qu\u2019une partie de l\u2019affaire, sir, me dit-il;\nmais j\u2019ai l\u00e0 avec moi un matelot hollandais qui, \u00e0 ma pri\u00e8re, je\npense, vous dirait le reste si le temps le permettait. Or le gros de\nl\u2019histoire, dont la premi\u00e8re partie, je suppose, vous est parfaitement\nconnue, c\u2019est que vous \u00eates all\u00e9s avec ce navire \u00e0 Sumatra; que l\u00e0\nvotre capitaine a \u00e9t\u00e9 massacr\u00e9 par les Malais avec trois de ses gens,\net que, vous et quelques-uns de ceux qui se trouvaient \u00e0 bord avec\nvous, vous vous \u00eates enfuis avec le b\u00e2timent, et depuis vous \u00eates\nfaits pirates. Voil\u00e0 le fait en substance, et vous allez \u00eatre tous\nsaisis comme \u00e9cumeurs, je vous l\u2019assure, et ex\u00e9cut\u00e9s sans autre forme\nde proc\u00e8s; car, vous le savez, les navires marchands font peu de\nc\u00e9r\u00e9monies avec les forbans quand ils tombent en leur pouvoir.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abMaintenant vous parlez bon anglais, lui dis-je, et je vous remercie;\net quoique je ne sache pas que nous ayons rien fait de semblable,\nquoique je sois s\u00fbr d\u2019avoir acquis honn\u00eatement et l\u00e9gitimement ce\nvaisseau[32], cependant, puisqu\u2019un pareil coup se pr\u00e9pare, comme\nvous dites, et que vous me semblez sinc\u00e8re, je me tiendrai sur mes\ngardes.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, sir, reprit-il, je ne vous dis pas de vous mettre sur\nvos gardes: la meilleure pr\u00e9caution est d\u2019\u00eatre hors de danger. Si vous\nfaites quelque cas de votre vie et de celle de vos gens, regagnez la\nmer sans d\u00e9lai \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e haute; comme vous aurez toute une mar\u00e9e\ndevant vous, vous serez d\u00e9j\u00e0 bien loin avant que les cinq chaloupes\npuissent descendre, car elles ne viendront qu\u2019avec le flux, et comme\nelles sont \u00e0 vingt milles plus haut, vous aurez l\u2019avance de pr\u00e8s de\ndeux heures sur elles par la diff\u00e9rence de la mar\u00e9e, sans compter la\nlongueur du chemin. En outre, comme ce sont des chaloupes seulement,\net non point des navires, elles n\u2019oseront vous suivre au large,\nsurtout s\u2019il fait du vent.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abBien, lui dis-je, vous avez \u00e9t\u00e9 on ne peut plus obligeant en\ncette rencontre: que puis-je faire pour votre r\u00e9compense?\u00bb\u2014\u00abSir,\nr\u00e9pondit-il, vous ne pouvez avoir grande envie de me r\u00e9compenser, vous\nn\u2019\u00eates pas assez convaincu de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de tout ceci: je vous ferai\nseulement une proposition: il m\u2019est d\u00fb dix-neuf mois de paie \u00e0 bord du\nnavire le........., sur lequel je suis venu d\u2019Angleterre, il en est d\u00fb\nsept au Hollandais qui est avec moi; voulez-vous nous en tenir compte?\nnous partirons avec vous. Si la chose en reste l\u00e0, nous ne demanderons\nrien de plus; mais s\u2019il advient que vous soyez convaincu que nous\navons sauv\u00e9, et votre vie, et le navire, et la vie de tout l\u2019\u00e9quipage,\nnous laisserons le reste \u00e0 votre discr\u00e9tion.\u00bb\nJ\u2019y topai sur-le-champ, et je m\u2019en allai imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 bord, et les\ndeux hommes avec moi. Aussit\u00f4t que j\u2019approchai du navire, mon partner,\nqui ne l\u2019avait point quitt\u00e9, accourut sur le gaillard d\u2019arri\u00e8re et\ntout joyeux me cria:\u2014\u00abO ho! O ho! nous avons bouch\u00e9 la voie.\u00bb\u2014\u00abTout\nde bon? lui dis-je; b\u00e9ni soit Dieu! mais qu\u2019on l\u00e8ve l\u2019ancre en toute\nh\u00e2te.\u00bb\u2014\u00abQu\u2019on l\u00e8ve l\u2019ancre! r\u00e9p\u00e9ta-t-il, qu\u2019entendez-vous par l\u00e0?\nQu\u2019y a-t-il?\u00bb\u2014\u00abPoint de questions, r\u00e9pliquai-je; mais tout le monde\n\u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre, et qu\u2019on l\u00e8ve l\u2019ancre sans perdre une minute.\u00bb Frapp\u00e9\nd\u2019\u00e9tonnement, il ne laissa pas d\u2019appeler le capitaine, et de lui\nordonner incontinent de lever l\u2019ancre, et quoique la mar\u00e9e ne f\u00fbt pas\nenti\u00e8rement mont\u00e9e, une petite brise de terre soufflant, nous f\u00eemes\nroute vers la mer. Alors j\u2019appelai mon partner dans la cabine et je\nlui contai en d\u00e9tail mon aventure, puis nous f\u00eemes venir les deux\nhommes pour nous donner le reste de l\u2019histoire. Mais comme ce r\u00e9cit\ndemandait beaucoup de temps, il n\u2019\u00e9tait pas termin\u00e9 qu\u2019un matelot\nvint crier \u00e0 la porte de la cabine, de la part du capitaine, que nous\n\u00e9tions chass\u00e9s.\u2014\u00abChass\u00e9s! m\u2019\u00e9criai-je; comment et par qui?\u00bb\u2014\u00abPar cinq\n_sloops_, ou chaloupes, pleines de monde.\u00bb\u2014\u00abTr\u00e8s bien! dis-je; il\npara\u00eet qu\u2019il y a du vrai l\u00e0 dedans.\u00bb\u2014Sur-le-champ je fis assembler\ntous nos hommes, et je leur d\u00e9clarai qu\u2019on avait dessein de se\nsaisir du navire pour nous traiter comme des pirates; puis je leur\ndemandai s\u2019ils voulaient nous assister et se d\u00e9fendre. Ils r\u00e9pondirent\njoyeusement, unanimement, qu\u2019ils voulaient vivre et mourir avec nous.\nSur ce, je demandai au capitaine quelle \u00e9tait \u00e0 son sens la meilleure\nmarche \u00e0 suivre dans le combat, car j\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu \u00e0 r\u00e9sister jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nla derni\u00e8re goutte de mon sang.\u2014\u00abIl faut, dit-il, tenir l\u2019ennemi \u00e0\ndistance avec notre canon, aussi longtemps que possible, puis faire\npleuvoir sur lui notre mousqueterie pour l\u2019emp\u00eacher de nous aborder;\nenfin, ces ressources \u00e9puis\u00e9es, nous retirer dans nos quartiers;\npeut-\u00eatre n\u2019auront-ils point d\u2019instruments pour briser nos cloisons et\nne pourront-ils p\u00e9n\u00e9trer jusqu\u2019\u00e0 nous.\u00bb\nL\u00e0-dessus notre canonnier re\u00e7ut l\u2019ordre de transporter deux pi\u00e8ces\n\u00e0 la timonerie, pour balayer le pont de l\u2019avant \u00e0 l\u2019arri\u00e8re, et\nde les charger de balles, de morceaux de ferraille, et de tout ce\nqui lui tomberait sous la main. Tandis que nous nous pr\u00e9parions au\ncombat, nous gagnions toujours le large avec assez de vent, et nous\napercevions dans l\u2019\u00e9loignement les embarcations, les cinq grandes\nchaloupes qui nous suivaient avec toute la toile qu\u2019elles pouvaient\nfaire.\n[Illustration: Nous apercevions dans l\u2019\u00e9loignement les embarcations.]\nDeux de ces chaloupes, qu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019aide de nos longues-vues nous reconn\u00fbmes\npour anglaises, avaient d\u00e9pass\u00e9 les autres de pr\u00e8s de deux lieues,\net gagnaient consid\u00e9rablement sur nous; \u00e0 n\u2019en pas douter, elles\nvoulaient nous joindre; nous tir\u00e2mes donc un coup de canon \u00e0 poudre\npour leur intimer l\u2019ordre de mettre en panne et nous arbor\u00e2mes\nun pavillon blanc, comme pour demander \u00e0 parlementer; mais elles\ncontinu\u00e8rent de forcer de voiles jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019elles vinssent \u00e0 port\u00e9e\nde canon. Alors nous amen\u00e2mes le pavillon blanc auquel elles n\u2019avaient\npoint fait r\u00e9ponse, et, d\u00e9ployant le pavillon rouge, nous tir\u00e2mes sur\nelles \u00e0 boulets. Sans en tenir aucun compte, elles poursuivirent.\nQuand elles furent assez pr\u00e8s pour \u00eatre h\u00e9l\u00e9es avec le porte-voix que\nnous avions \u00e0 bord, nous les arraisonn\u00e2mes, et leur enjoign\u00eemes de\ns\u2019\u00e9loigner, que sinon mal leur en prendrait.\nCe fut peine perdue, elles n\u2019en d\u00e9mordirent point, et s\u2019efforc\u00e8rent\nd\u2019arriver sous notre poupe comme pour nous aborder par l\u2019arri\u00e8re.\nVoyant qu\u2019elles \u00e9taient r\u00e9solues \u00e0 tenter un mauvais coup, et se\nfiaient sur les forces qui les suivaient, je donnai l\u2019ordre de\nmettre en panne afin de leur pr\u00e9senter le travers, et imm\u00e9diatement\non leur tira cinq coups de canon, dont un avait \u00e9t\u00e9 point\u00e9 si juste\nqu\u2019il emporta la poupe de la chaloupe la plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e, ce qui mit\nl\u2019\u00e9quipage dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d\u2019amener toutes les voiles et de se\njeter sur l\u2019avant pour emp\u00eacher qu\u2019elle ne coul\u00e2t; elle s\u2019en tint l\u00e0,\nestimant qu\u2019elle en avait assez; mais la plus avanc\u00e9e n\u2019en poursuivant\npas moins sa course, nous nous pr\u00e9par\u00e2mes \u00e0 faire feu sur elle en\nparticulier.\nDans ces entrefaites, une des trois qui suivaient, ayant devanc\u00e9 les\ndeux autres, s\u2019approcha de celle que nous avions d\u00e9sempar\u00e9e pour la\nsecourir, et nous la v\u00eemes ensuite en recueillir l\u2019\u00e9quipage. Nous\nh\u00e9l\u00e2mes de nouveau la chaloupe la plus proche, et lui offr\u00eemes de\nnouveau une tr\u00eave pour parlementer, afin de savoir ce qu\u2019elle nous\nvoulait: pour toute r\u00e9ponse elle s\u2019avan\u00e7a sous notre poupe. Alors\nnotre canonnier, qui \u00e9tait un adroit compagnon, braqua ses deux\ncanons de chasse et fit feu sur elle; mais il manqua son coup,\net les hommes de la chaloupe, faisant des acclamations et agitant\nleurs bonnets, pouss\u00e8rent en avant. Le canonnier, s\u2019\u00e9tant de nouveau\npromptement appr\u00eat\u00e9, fit feu sur eux une seconde fois. Un boulet, bien\nqu\u2019il n\u2019atteign\u00eet pas l\u2019embarcation elle-m\u00eame, tomba au milieu des\nmatelots, et fit, nous p\u00fbmes le voir ais\u00e9ment, un grand ravage parmi\neux. Incontinent nous vir\u00e2mes lof pour lof; nous leur pr\u00e9sent\u00e2mes la\nhanche, et, leur ayant l\u00e2ch\u00e9 trois coups de canon, nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes\nque la chaloupe \u00e9tait presque mise en pi\u00e8ces; le gouvernail entre\nautres et un morceau de la poupe avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9s; ils serr\u00e8rent\ndonc leurs voiles imm\u00e9diatement, jet\u00e9s qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient dans une grande\nconfusion.\n[Illustration: Ils serr\u00e8rent donc leurs voiles imm\u00e9diatement...]\nPour compl\u00e9ter leur d\u00e9sastre, notre canonnier leur envoya deux\nautres coups; nous ne s\u00fbmes o\u00f9 ils frapp\u00e8rent, mais nous v\u00eemes la\nchaloupe qui coulait bas. D\u00e9j\u00e0 plusieurs hommes luttaient avec les\nflots.\u2014Sur-le-champ je fis mettre \u00e0 la mer et garnir de monde notre\npinasse, avec ordre de rep\u00eacher quelques-uns de nos ennemis s\u2019il \u00e9tait\npossible, et de les amener de suite \u00e0 bord, parce que les autres\nchaloupes commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 s\u2019approcher. Nos gens de la pinasse ob\u00e9irent\net recueillirent trois pauvres diables, dont l\u2019un \u00e9tait sur le point\nde se noyer: nous e\u00fbmes bien de la peine \u00e0 le faire revenir \u00e0 lui.\nAussit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils furent rentr\u00e9s \u00e0 bord, nous m\u00eemes toutes voiles dehors\npour courir au large, et quand les trois autres chaloupes eurent\nrejoint les deux premi\u00e8res, nous v\u00eemes qu\u2019elles avaient cess\u00e9 la\nchasse.\nAinsi d\u00e9livr\u00e9 d\u2019un danger qui, bien que j\u2019en ignorasse la cause, me\nsemblait beaucoup plus grand que je ne l\u2019avais appr\u00e9hend\u00e9, je fis\nchanger de route pour ne point donner \u00e0 conna\u00eetre o\u00f9 nous allions.\nNous m\u00eemes donc le cap \u00e0 l\u2019est, enti\u00e8rement hors de la ligne suivie\npar les navires europ\u00e9ens charg\u00e9s pour la Chine ou m\u00eame tout autre\nlieu en relation commerciale avec les nations de l\u2019Europe.\nQuand nous f\u00fbmes au large, nous t\u00eenmes conseil avec les deux marins,\net nous leur demand\u00e2mes d\u2019abord ce que tout cela pouvait signifier. Le\nHollandais nous mit tout d\u2019un coup dans le secret, en nous d\u00e9clarant\nque l\u2019aventurier qui nous avait vendu le navire, comme on sait,\nn\u2019\u00e9tait rien moins qu\u2019un voleur qui s\u2019\u00e9tait enfui avec. Alors il nous\nraconta comment le capitaine, dont il nous dit le nom que je ne puis\nme rem\u00e9morer aujourd\u2019hui, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tra\u00eetreusement massacr\u00e9 par les\nnaturels sur la c\u00f4te de Malacca, avec trois de ses hommes, et comment\nlui, ce Hollandais, et quatre autres s\u2019\u00e9taient r\u00e9fugi\u00e9s dans les bois,\no\u00f9 ils avaient err\u00e9 bien longtemps, et d\u2019o\u00f9 lui seul enfin s\u2019\u00e9tait\n\u00e9chapp\u00e9 d\u2019une fa\u00e7on miraculeuse en atteignant \u00e0 la nage un navire\nhollandais, qui, naviguant pr\u00e8s de la c\u00f4te en revenant de Chine,\navait envoy\u00e9 sa chaloupe \u00e0 terre pour faire aiguade. Cet infortun\u00e9\nn\u2019avait pas os\u00e9 descendre sur le rivage o\u00f9 \u00e9tait l\u2019embarcation; mais,\ndans la nuit, ayant gagn\u00e9 l\u2019eau un peu au del\u00e0, apr\u00e8s avoir nag\u00e9 fort\nlongtemps, il avait \u00e0 la fin \u00e9t\u00e9 recueilli par la chaloupe du navire.\nIl nous dit ensuite qu\u2019il \u00e9tait all\u00e9 \u00e0 Batavia, o\u00f9, ayant abandonn\u00e9\nles autres dans leur voyage, deux marins appartenant \u00e0 ce navire\n\u00e9taient arriv\u00e9s; il nous conta que le dr\u00f4le qui s\u2019\u00e9tait enfui avec le\nb\u00e2timent l\u2019avait vendu au Bengale \u00e0 un ramassis de pirates qui, partis\nen course, avaient d\u00e9j\u00e0 pris un navire anglais et deux hollandais tr\u00e8s\nrichement charg\u00e9s.\nCette derni\u00e8re all\u00e9gation nous concernait directement; et quoiqu\u2019il\nf\u00fbt patent qu\u2019elle \u00e9tait fausse, cependant, comme mon partner le\ndisait tr\u00e8s bien, si nous \u00e9tions tomb\u00e9s entre leurs mains, ces gens\navaient contre nous une pr\u00e9vention telle, que c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 en vain que\nnous nous serions d\u00e9fendus, ou que de leur part nous aurions esp\u00e9r\u00e9\nquartier. Nos accusateurs auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 nos juges: nous n\u2019aurions rien\neu \u00e0 en attendre que ce que la rage peut dicter et seule ex\u00e9cuter une\ncol\u00e8re aveugle. Aussi l\u2019opinion de mon partner fut-elle de retourner\nen droiture au Bengale, d\u2019o\u00f9 nous venions, sans rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 aucun port,\nparce que l\u00e0 nous pourrions nous justifier, nous pourrions prouver\no\u00f9 nous nous trouvions quand le navire \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9, \u00e0 qui nous\nl\u2019avions achet\u00e9, et surtout s\u2019il advenait que nous fussions dans la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de porter l\u2019affaire devant nos juges naturels, parce que\nnous pourrions \u00eatre s\u00fbrs d\u2019obtenir quelque justice et de ne pas \u00eatre\npendus d\u2019abord et jug\u00e9s apr\u00e8s.\nJe fus quelque temps de l\u2019avis de mon partner; mais, apr\u00e8s y avoir\nsong\u00e9 un peu plus s\u00e9rieusement:\u2014\u00abIl me semble bien dangereux pour\nnous, lui dis-je, de tenter de retourner au Bengale, d\u2019autant que nous\nsommes en de\u00e7\u00e0 du d\u00e9troit de Malacca. Si l\u2019alarme a \u00e9t\u00e9 donn\u00e9e, nous\npouvons avoir la certitude d\u2019y \u00eatre guett\u00e9s par les Hollandais de\nBatavia et par les Anglais; et si nous \u00e9tions en quelque sorte pris\nen fuite, par l\u00e0 nous nous condamnerions nous-m\u00eames: il n\u2019en faudrait\npas davantage pour nous perdre.\u00bb\u2014Je demandai au marin anglais son\nsentiment. Il r\u00e9pondit qu\u2019il partageait le mien et que nous serions\nimmanquablement pris.\nCe danger d\u00e9concerta un peu et mon partner et l\u2019\u00e9quipage. Nous\nd\u00e9termin\u00e2mes imm\u00e9diatement d\u2019aller \u00e0 la c\u00f4te du Ton-Kin, puis \u00e0 la\nChine, et l\u00e0, tout en poursuivant notre premier projet, nos op\u00e9rations\ncommerciales, de chercher d\u2019une mani\u00e8re ou d\u2019une autre \u00e0 nous d\u00e9faire\nde notre navire pour nous en retourner sur le premier vaisseau du pays\nque nous nous procurerions. Nous nous arr\u00eat\u00e2mes \u00e0 ces mesures comme\naux plus sages, et en cons\u00e9quence nous gouvern\u00e2mes nord-nord-est, nous\ntenant \u00e0 plus de cinquante lieues hors de la route ordinaire vers\nl\u2019est.\nCe parti pourtant ne laissa pas d\u2019avoir ses inconv\u00e9nients; les vents,\nquand nous f\u00fbmes \u00e0 cette distance de la terre, sembl\u00e8rent nous \u00eatre\nplus constamment contraires, les moussons, comme on les appelle,\nsoufflant est et est-nord-est; de sorte que, tout mal pourvu de vivres\nque nous \u00e9tions pour un long trajet, nous avions la perspective d\u2019une\ntravers\u00e9e laborieuse; et ce qui \u00e9tait encore pire, nous avions \u00e0\nredouter que les navires anglais et hollandais dont les chaloupes nous\navaient donn\u00e9 la chasse, et dont quelques-uns \u00e9taient destin\u00e9s pour\nces parages, n\u2019arrivassent avant nous, ou que quelque autre navire\ncharg\u00e9 pour la Chine, inform\u00e9 de nous par eux, ne nous poursuiv\u00eet avec\nla m\u00eame vigueur.\nIl faut que je l\u2019avoue, je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas alors \u00e0 mon aise, et je\nm\u2019estimais, depuis que j\u2019avais \u00e9chapp\u00e9 aux chaloupes, dans la plus\ndangereuse position o\u00f9 je me fusse trouv\u00e9 de ma vie; en quelque\nmauvaise passe que j\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9, je ne m\u2019\u00e9tais jamais vu jusque-l\u00e0\npoursuivi comme un voleur; je n\u2019avais non plus jamais rien fait qui\nbless\u00e2t la d\u00e9licatesse et la loyaut\u00e9, encore moins qui f\u00fbt contraire \u00e0\nl\u2019honneur. J\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 surtout mon propre ennemi, je n\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 m\u00eame,\nje puis bien le dire, hostile \u00e0 personne autre qu\u2019\u00e0 moi. Pourtant je\nme voyais emp\u00eatr\u00e9 dans la plus m\u00e9chante affaire imaginable; car bien\nque je fusse parfaitement innocent, je n\u2019\u00e9tais pas \u00e0 m\u00eame de prouver\nmon innocence; pourtant, si j\u2019\u00e9tais pris, je me voyais pr\u00e9venu d\u2019un\ncrime de la pire esp\u00e8ce, au moins consid\u00e9r\u00e9 comme tel par les gens\nauxquels j\u2019avais \u00e0 faire.\nJe n\u2019avais qu\u2019une id\u00e9e: chercher notre salut; mais comment? mais\ndans quel port, dans quel lieu? Je ne savais.\u2014Mon partner, qui\nd\u2019abord avait \u00e9t\u00e9 plus d\u00e9mont\u00e9 que moi, me voyant ainsi abattu, se\nprit \u00e0 relever mon courage; et apr\u00e8s m\u2019avoir fait la description\ndes diff\u00e9rents ports de cette c\u00f4te, il me dit qu\u2019il \u00e9tait d\u2019avis de\nrel\u00e2cher \u00e0 la Cochinchine ou \u00e0 la baie de Ton-Kin, pour gagner ensuite\nMacao, ville appartenant autrefois aux Portugais, o\u00f9 r\u00e9sident encore\nbeaucoup de familles europ\u00e9ennes, et o\u00f9 se rendent d\u2019ordinaire les\nmissionnaires, dans le dessein de p\u00e9n\u00e9trer en Chine.\nNous nous range\u00e2mes \u00e0 cet avis, et en cons\u00e9quence, apr\u00e8s une travers\u00e9e\nlente et irr\u00e9guli\u00e8re, durant laquelle nous souffr\u00eemes beaucoup, faute\nde provisions, nous arriv\u00e2mes en vue de la c\u00f4te de tr\u00e8s grand matin,\net songeant aux circonstances pass\u00e9es et au danger imminent auquel\nnous avions \u00e9chapp\u00e9, nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de rel\u00e2cher dans une petite\nrivi\u00e8re, ayant toutefois assez de fond pour nous, et de voir si nous\nne pourrions pas, soit par terre, soit avec la pinasse du navire,\nreconna\u00eetre quels b\u00e2timents se trouvaient dans les ports d\u2019alentour.\nNous d\u00fbmes vraiment notre salut \u00e0 cette heureuse pr\u00e9caution; car si\ntout d\u2019abord aucun navire europ\u00e9en ne s\u2019offrit \u00e0 nos regards dans\nla baie de Ton-Kin, le lendemain matin il y arriva deux vaisseaux\nhollandais, et un troisi\u00e8me sans pavillon d\u00e9ploy\u00e9, mais que nous\ncr\u00fbmes appartenir \u00e0 la m\u00eame nation, passa environ \u00e0 deux lieues au\nlarge, faisant voile pour la c\u00f4te de Chine. Dans l\u2019apr\u00e8s-midi nous\naper\u00e7\u00fbmes deux b\u00e2timents anglais, tenant la m\u00eame route. Ainsi nous\npens\u00e2mes nous voir environn\u00e9s d\u2019ennemis de tous c\u00f4t\u00e9s. Le pays o\u00f9 nous\nfaisions station \u00e9tait sauvage et barbare, les naturels voleurs par\nvocation ou par profession; et bien qu\u2019avec eux nous n\u2019eussions gu\u00e8re\ncommerce, et qu\u2019except\u00e9 pour nous procurer des vivres nous \u00e9vitassions\nd\u2019avoir affaire \u00e0 eux, ce ne fut pourtant qu\u2019\u00e0 grand\u2019peine que nous\np\u00fbmes nous garder de leurs insultes plusieurs fois.\nLa petite rivi\u00e8re o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions n\u2019est distante que de quelques\nlieues des derni\u00e8res limites septentrionales de ce pays. Avec notre\nembarcation nous c\u00f4toy\u00e2mes au nord-est jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la pointe de terre qui\nouvre la grande baie de Ton-Kin, et ce fut durant cette reconnaissance\nque nous d\u00e9couvr\u00eemes, comme on sait, les ennemis dont nous \u00e9tions\nenvironn\u00e9s. Les naturels chez lesquels nous \u00e9tions sont les plus\nbarbares de tous les habitants de cette c\u00f4te; ils n\u2019ont commerce\navec aucune autre nation, et vivent seulement de poisson, d\u2019huile,\net autres grossiers aliments. Une preuve \u00e9vidente de leur barbarie\ntoute particuli\u00e8re, c\u2019est la coutume qu\u2019ils ont, lorsqu\u2019un navire a le\nmalheur de naufrager sur leur c\u00f4te, de faire l\u2019\u00e9quipage prisonnier,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire esclave; et nous ne tard\u00e2mes pas \u00e0 voir un \u00e9chantillon de\nleur bont\u00e9 en ce genre \u00e0 l\u2019occasion suivante.\nJ\u2019ai consign\u00e9 ci-dessus que notre navire avait fait une voie d\u2019eau en\nmer, et que nous n\u2019avions pu la d\u00e9couvrir. Bien qu\u2019\u00e0 la fin elle e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 bouch\u00e9e aussi inopin\u00e9ment qu\u2019heureusement dans l\u2019instant m\u00eame o\u00f9\nnous allions \u00eatre captur\u00e9s par les chaloupes hollandaises et anglaises\n\u00e0 proximit\u00e9 de la baie de Siam, cependant, comme nous ne trouvions\npas le b\u00e2timent en aussi bon point que nous l\u2019aurions d\u00e9sir\u00e9, nous\nr\u00e9sol\u00fbmes, tandis que nous \u00e9tions en cet endroit, de l\u2019\u00e9chouer au\nrivage apr\u00e8s avoir retir\u00e9 le peu de choses lourdes que nous avions \u00e0\nbord, pour nettoyer et r\u00e9parer la car\u00e8ne, et, s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible,\ntrouver o\u00f9 s\u2019\u00e9tait fait le d\u00e9chirement.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, ayant all\u00e9g\u00e9 le b\u00e2timent et mis tous les canons et les\nautres objets mobiles d\u2019un seul c\u00f4t\u00e9, nous f\u00eemes de notre mieux pour\nle mettre \u00e0 la bande, afin de parvenir jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la quille; car, toute\nr\u00e9flexion faite, nous ne nous \u00e9tions pas souci\u00e9s de l\u2019\u00e9chouer \u00e0 sec:\nnous n\u2019avions pu trouver une place convenable pour cela.\nLes habitants, qui n\u2019avaient jamais assist\u00e9 \u00e0 un pareil spectacle,\ndescendirent \u00e9merveill\u00e9s au rivage pour nous regarder; et voyant le\nvaisseau ainsi abattu, inclin\u00e9 vers la rive, et ne d\u00e9couvrant point\nnos hommes qui, de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, sur des \u00e9chafaudages et dans les\nembarcations, travaillaient \u00e0 la car\u00e8ne, ils s\u2019imagin\u00e8rent qu\u2019il\navait fait naufrage et se trouvait profond\u00e9ment engrav\u00e9.\nDans cette supposition, au bout de deux ou trois heures et avec dix\nou douze grandes barques qui contenaient les unes huit, les autres\ndix hommes, ils se r\u00e9unirent pr\u00e8s de nous, se promettant sans doute\nde venir \u00e0 bord, de piller le navire, et, s\u2019ils nous y trouvaient, de\nnous mener comme esclaves \u00e0 leur roi ou capitaine, car nous ne s\u00fbmes\npoint qui les gouvernait.\nQuand ils s\u2019approch\u00e8rent du b\u00e2timent et commenc\u00e8rent de ramer \u00e0\nl\u2019entour, ils nous aper\u00e7urent tous fort embesogn\u00e9s apr\u00e8s la car\u00e8ne,\nnettoyant, calfatant et donnant le suif, comme tout marin sait que\ncela se pratique.\nIls s\u2019arr\u00eat\u00e8rent quelque temps \u00e0 nous contempler. Dans notre surprise,\nnous ne pouvions concevoir quel \u00e9tait leur dessein; mais, \u00e0 tout\n\u00e9v\u00e9nement, profitant de ce loisir, nous f\u00eemes entrer quelques-uns des\nn\u00f4tres dans le navire, et passer des armes et des munitions \u00e0 ceux\nqui travaillaient, afin qu\u2019ils pussent se d\u00e9fendre au besoin. Et ce\nne fut pas hors de propos; car apr\u00e8s tout au plus un quart d\u2019heure de\nd\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, concluant sans doute que le vaisseau \u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement\nnaufrag\u00e9, que nous \u00e9tions \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre pour essayer de le sauver et de\nnous sauver nous-m\u00eames \u00e0 l\u2019aide de nos embarcations, et, quand on\ntransporta nos armes, que nous t\u00e2chions de faire le sauvetage de nos\nmarchandises, ils pos\u00e8rent en fait que nous leur \u00e9tions \u00e9chus et\ns\u2019avanc\u00e8rent droit sur nous, comme en ligne de bataille.\nA la vue de cette multitude, la position vraiment n\u2019\u00e9tait pas\ntenable, nos hommes commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 s\u2019effrayer, et se mirent \u00e0 nous\ncrier qu\u2019ils ne savaient que faire. Je commandai aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 ceux qui\ntravaillaient sur les \u00e9chafaudages de descendre, de rentrer dans le\nb\u00e2timent, et \u00e0 ceux qui montaient les chaloupes de revenir. Quant\n\u00e0 nous, qui \u00e9tions \u00e0 bord, nous employ\u00e2mes toutes nos forces pour\nredresser le b\u00e2timent. Ni ceux de l\u2019\u00e9chafaudage cependant, ni ceux des\nembarcations, ne purent ex\u00e9cuter ces ordres avant d\u2019avoir sur les bras\nles Cochinchinois qui, avec deux de leurs barques, se jetaient d\u00e9j\u00e0\nsur notre chaloupe pour faire nos hommes prisonniers.\nLe premier dont ils se saisirent \u00e9tait un matelot anglais, un hardi\net solide compagnon. Il tenait un mousquet \u00e0 la main; mais, au lieu\nde faire feu, il le d\u00e9posa dans la chaloupe: je le crus fou. Le dr\u00f4le\nentendait mieux que moi son affaire; car il agrippa un pa\u00efen, le tira\nviolemment de sa barque dans la n\u00f4tre, puis, le prenant par les deux\noreilles, lui cogna la t\u00eate si rudement contre le plat-bord, que le\ncamarade lui resta dans les mains. Sur l\u2019entrefaite, un Hollandais qui\nse trouvait \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 ramassa le mousquet, et avec la crosse man\u0153uvra\nsi bien autour de lui, qu\u2019il terrassa cinq barbares au moment o\u00f9 ils\ntentaient d\u2019entrer dans la chaloupe. Mais qu\u2019\u00e9tait tout cela pour\nr\u00e9sister \u00e0 quarante ou cinquante hommes qui, intr\u00e9pidement, ne se\nm\u00e9fiant pas du danger, commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 se pr\u00e9cipiter dans la chaloupe,\nd\u00e9fendue par cinq matelots seulement! Toutefois un incident qui nous\npr\u00eata surtout \u00e0 rire, procura \u00e0 nos gens une victoire compl\u00e8te. Voici\nce que c\u2019est:\nNotre charpentier, en train de donner un suif \u00e0 l\u2019ext\u00e9rieur du navire\net de brayer les coutures qu\u2019il avait calfat\u00e9es pour boucher les\nvoies, venait justement de faire descendre dans la chaloupe deux\nchaudi\u00e8res, l\u2019une pleine de poix bouillante, l\u2019autre de r\u00e9sine,\nde suif, d\u2019huile et d\u2019autres mati\u00e8res dont on fait usage pour ces\nop\u00e9rations, et le gar\u00e7on qui servait notre charpentier avait justement\n\u00e0 la main une grande cuill\u00e8re de fer avec laquelle il passait aux\ntravailleurs la mati\u00e8re en fusion, quand, par les \u00e9coutes d\u2019avant, \u00e0\nl\u2019endroit m\u00eame o\u00f9 se trouvait ce gar\u00e7on, deux de nos ennemis entr\u00e8rent\ndans la chaloupe. Le compagnon aussit\u00f4t les salua d\u2019une cuiller\u00e9e de\npoix bouillante qui les grilla et les \u00e9chauda si bien, d\u2019autant qu\u2019ils\n\u00e9taient \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 nus, qu\u2019exasp\u00e9r\u00e9s par leurs br\u00fblures, ils saut\u00e8rent\n\u00e0 la mer beuglant comme deux taureaux. A ce coup le charpentier\ns\u2019\u00e9cria:\u2014\u00abBien jou\u00e9, Jack! bravo, va toujours!\u00bb\u2014Puis, s\u2019avan\u00e7ant\nlui-m\u00eame, il prend un guipon, et le plongeant dans la chaudi\u00e8re \u00e0 la\npoix, lui et son aide en envoient une telle profusion, que, bref,\ndans trois barques, il n\u2019y eut pas un assaillant qui ne f\u00fbt roussi et\nbr\u00fbl\u00e9 d\u2019une mani\u00e8re piteuse, d\u2019une mani\u00e8re effroyable, et ne pouss\u00e2t\ndes cris et des hurlements tels que de ma vie je n\u2019avais ou\u00ef un plus\nhorrible vacarme, voire m\u00eame rien de semblable; car bien que la\ndouleur, et c\u2019est une chose digne de remarque, fasse naturellement\njeter des cris \u00e0 tous les \u00eatres, cependant chaque nation a un mode\nparticulier d\u2019exclamation et ses vocif\u00e9rations \u00e0 elle comme elle a son\nlangage \u00e0 elle. Je ne saurais, aux clameurs de ces cr\u00e9atures, donner\nun nom ni plus juste ni plus exact que celui de hurlement. Je n\u2019ai\nvraiment jamais rien ou\u00ef qui en approch\u00e2t plus que les rumeurs des\nloups que j\u2019entendis hurler, comme on sait, dans la for\u00eat, sur les\nfronti\u00e8res du Languedoc.\n[Illustration: \u00abBien jou\u00e9, Jack! bravo, va toujours!\u00bb.]\nJamais victoire ne me fit plus de plaisir, non seulement parce qu\u2019elle\n\u00e9tait pour moi inopin\u00e9e et qu\u2019elle nous tirait d\u2019un p\u00e9ril imminent,\nmais encore parce que nous l\u2019avions remport\u00e9e sans avoir r\u00e9pandu\nd\u2019autre sang que celui de ce pauvre diable qu\u2019un de nos hommes avait\nd\u00e9p\u00each\u00e9 de ses mains, \u00e0 mon regret toutefois, car je souffrais de\nvoir tuer de pareils pauvres mis\u00e9rables sauvages, m\u00eame en cas de\npersonnelle d\u00e9fense, dans la persuasion o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais qu\u2019ils croyaient ne\nfaire rien que de juste, et n\u2019en savaient pas plus long. Et, bien que\nce meurtre p\u00fbt \u00eatre justifiable parce qu\u2019il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 n\u00e9cessaire et\nqu\u2019il n\u2019y a point de crime n\u00e9cessaire dans la nature, je n\u2019en pensais\npas moins que c\u2019est l\u00e0 une triste vie que celle o\u00f9 il nous faut sans\ncesse tuer nos semblables pour notre propre conservation, et, de fait,\nje pense toujours ainsi; m\u00eame aujourd\u2019hui j\u2019aimerais mieux souffrir\nbeaucoup que d\u2019\u00f4ter la vie \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eatre le plus vil qui m\u2019outragerait.\nTout homme judicieux, et qui conna\u00eet la valeur d\u2019une vie, sera de mon\nsentiment, j\u2019en ai l\u2019assurance, s\u2019il y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chit s\u00e9rieusement.\nMais pour en revenir \u00e0 mon histoire, durant cette \u00e9chauffour\u00e9e mon\npartner et moi, qui dirigions le reste de l\u2019\u00e9quipage \u00e0 bord, nous\navions fort dextrement redress\u00e9 le navire ou \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s: et, quand\nnous e\u00fbmes remis les canons en place, le canonnier me pria d\u2019ordonner\n\u00e0 notre chaloupe de se retirer, parce qu\u2019il voulait envoyer une\nbord\u00e9e \u00e0 l\u2019ennemi. Je lui dis de s\u2019en donner de garde, de ne point\nmettre en batterie, que sans lui le charpentier ferait la besogne;\nje le chargeai seulement de faire chauffer une autre chaudi\u00e8re de\npoix, ce dont prit soin notre coq qui se trouvait \u00e0 bord. Mais nos\nassaillants \u00e9taient si atterr\u00e9s de leur premi\u00e8re rencontre, qu\u2019ils\nne se souci\u00e8rent pas de revenir. Quant \u00e0 ceux de nos ennemis qui\ns\u2019\u00e9taient trouv\u00e9s hors d\u2019atteinte, voyant le navire \u00e0 flot, et pour\nainsi dire debout, ils commenc\u00e8rent, nous le suppos\u00e2mes du moins, \u00e0\ns\u2019apercevoir de leur b\u00e9vue et \u00e0 renoncer \u00e0 l\u2019entreprise, trouvant que\nce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas l\u00e0 du tout ce qu\u2019ils s\u2019\u00e9taient promis.\u2014C\u2019est ainsi\nque nous sort\u00eemes de cette plaisante bataille; et comme deux jours\nauparavant nous avions port\u00e9 \u00e0 bord du riz, des racines, du pain et\nune quinzaine de pourceaux gras, nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de ne pas demeurer\nl\u00e0 plus longtemps, et de remettre en mer quoiqu\u2019il en p\u00fbt advenir;\ncar nous ne doutions pas d\u2019\u00eatre environn\u00e9s, le jour suivant, d\u2019un si\ngrand nombre de ces marauds, que notre chaudi\u00e8re de poix n\u2019y pourrait\nsuffire.\nEn cons\u00e9quence tout fut replac\u00e9 \u00e0 bord le soir m\u00eame, et d\u00e8s le matin\nnous \u00e9tions pr\u00eats \u00e0 partir. Dans ces entrefaites, comme nous avions\nmouill\u00e9 l\u2019ancre \u00e0 quelque distance du rivage, nous f\u00fbmes bien moins\ninquiets: nous \u00e9tions alors en position de combattre et de courir\nau large si quelque ennemi se f\u00fbt pr\u00e9sent\u00e9. Le lendemain, apr\u00e8s\navoir termin\u00e9 \u00e0 bord notre besogne, toutes les voies se trouvant\nparfaitement \u00e9tanch\u00e9es, nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 la voile. Nous aurions bien\nvoulu aller dans la baie de Ton-Kin, d\u00e9sireux que nous \u00e9tions\nd\u2019obtenir quelques renseignements sur ces b\u00e2timents hollandais qui\ny \u00e9taient entr\u00e9s; mais nous n\u2019os\u00e2mes pas, parce que nous avions vu\npeu auparavant plusieurs navires qui s\u2019y rendaient, \u00e0 ce que nous\nsuppos\u00e2mes. Nous cingl\u00e2mes donc au nord-est, \u00e0 dessein de toucher \u00e0\nl\u2019\u00eele Formose, ne redoutant pas moins d\u2019\u00eatre aper\u00e7us par un b\u00e2timent\nmarchand hollandais ou anglais, qu\u2019un navire hollandais, ou anglais\nne redoute de l\u2019\u00eatre dans la M\u00e9diterran\u00e9e par un vaisseau de guerre\nalg\u00e9rien.\nQuand nous e\u00fbmes gagn\u00e9 la haute mer, nous t\u00eenmes toujours au nord-est\ncomme si nous voulions aller aux Manilles ou \u00eeles Philippines, ce\nque nous f\u00eemes pour ne pas tomber dans la route des vaisseaux\neurop\u00e9ens; puis nous gouvern\u00e2mes au nord jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que nous fussions\npar 22 degr\u00e9s 20 minutes de latitude, de sorte que nous arriv\u00e2mes\ndirectement \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eele Formose, o\u00f9 nous jet\u00e2mes l\u2019ancre pour faire de\nl\u2019eau et des provisions fra\u00eeches. L\u00e0, les habitants, qui sont tr\u00e8s\ncourtois et tr\u00e8s civils dans leurs mani\u00e8res, vinrent au-devant de\nnos besoins et en us\u00e8rent tr\u00e8s honn\u00eatement et tr\u00e8s loyalement avec\nnous dans toutes leurs relations et tous leurs march\u00e9s, ce que nous\nn\u2019avions pas trouv\u00e9 chez l\u2019autre peuple, et ce qui peut-\u00eatre est d\u00fb au\nreste du christianisme autrefois plant\u00e9 dans cette \u00eele par une mission\nde protestants hollandais: preuve nouvelle de ce que j\u2019ai souvent\nobserv\u00e9, que la religion chr\u00e9tienne, partout o\u00f9 elle est re\u00e7ue,\ncivilise toujours les hommes et r\u00e9forme leurs m\u0153urs, qu\u2019elle op\u00e8re ou\nnon leur sanctification.\nDe l\u00e0 nous continu\u00e2mes \u00e0 faire route au nord, nous tenant toujours \u00e0\nla m\u00eame distance de la c\u00f4te de Chine, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que nous eussions\npass\u00e9 tous les ports fr\u00e9quent\u00e9s par les navires europ\u00e9ens, r\u00e9solus que\nnous \u00e9tions autant que possible \u00e0 ne pas nous laisser prendre, surtout\ndans cette contr\u00e9e, o\u00f9, vu notre position, c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fait de nous\ninfailliblement. Pour ma part, j\u2019avais une telle peur d\u2019\u00eatre captur\u00e9,\nque, je le crois fermement, j\u2019eusse pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 de beaucoup tomber entre\nles mains de l\u2019inquisition espagnole[33].\n\u00c9tant alors parvenus \u00e0 la latitude de 30 degr\u00e9s, nous nous\nd\u00e9termin\u00e2mes \u00e0 entrer dans le premier port de commerce que nous\ntrouverions. Tandis que nous ralliions la terre, une barque vint\nnous joindre \u00e0 deux lieues au large, ayant \u00e0 bord un vieux pilote\nportugais, qui, nous ayant reconnu pour un b\u00e2timent europ\u00e9en, venait\nnous offrir ses services. Nous f\u00fbmes ravis de sa proposition; nous\nle pr\u00eemes \u00e0 bord, et l\u00e0-dessus, sans nous demander o\u00f9 nous voulions\naller, il cong\u00e9dia la barque sur laquelle il \u00e9tait venu.\n[Illustration: Une barque vint nous joindre...]\nBien persuad\u00e9 qu\u2019il nous \u00e9tait loisible alors de nous faire mener\npar ce vieux marin o\u00f9 bon nous semblerait, je lui parlai tout\nd\u2019abord de nous conduire au golfe de Nanking, dans la partie la\nplus septentrionale de la c\u00f4te de Chine. Le bonhomme nous dit qu\u2019il\nconnaissait fort bien le golfe de Nanking; mais, en souriant, il nous\ndemanda ce que nous y comptions faire.\nJe lui r\u00e9pondis que nous voulions y vendre notre cargaison, y acheter\ndes porcelaines, des calicots, des soies \u00e9crues, du th\u00e9, des soies\nouvr\u00e9es, puis nous en retourner par la m\u00eame route.\u2014\u00abEn ce cas, nous\ndit-il, ce serait bien mieux votre affaire de rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 Macao, o\u00f9\nvous ne pourriez manquer de vous d\u00e9faire avantageusement de votre\nopium, et o\u00f9, avec votre argent, vous pourriez acheter toute esp\u00e8ce de\nmarchandises chinoises \u00e0 aussi bon march\u00e9 qu\u2019\u00e0 Nanking.\u00bb\nDans l\u2019impossibilit\u00e9 de d\u00e9tourner le bonhomme de ce sentiment dont\nil \u00e9tait fort ent\u00eat\u00e9 et fort engou\u00e9, je lui dis que nous \u00e9tions\ngentlemen aussi bien que n\u00e9gociants, et que nous avions envie d\u2019aller\nvoir la grande cit\u00e9 de P\u00e9king et la fameuse cour du monarque de la\nChine.\u2014\u00abAlors, reprit-il, il faut aller \u00e0 Ningpo, d\u2019o\u00f9, par le fleuve\nqui se jette l\u00e0 dans la mer, vous gagnerez, au bout de cinq lieues, le\ngrand canal. Ce canal, partout navigable, traverse le c\u0153ur de tout le\nvaste empire chinois, coupe toutes les rivi\u00e8res, franchit plusieurs\nmontagnes consid\u00e9rables au moyen d\u2019\u00e9cluses et de portes et s\u2019avance\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 la ville de P\u00e9king, apr\u00e8s un cours de deux cent soixante-dix\nlieues.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abFort bien, senhor Portuguez, r\u00e9pondis-je; mais ce n\u2019est pas l\u00e0\nnotre affaire maintenant: la grande question est de savoir s\u2019il vous\nest possible de nous conduire \u00e0 la ville de Nanking, d\u2019o\u00f9 plus tard\nnous nous rendrions \u00e0 P\u00e9king.\u00bb\u2014Il me dit que oui, que c\u2019\u00e9tait pour\nlui chose facile, et qu\u2019un gros navire hollandais venait justement\nde prendre la m\u00eame route. Ceci me causa quelque trouble: un vaisseau\nhollandais \u00e9tait pour lors notre terreur, et nous eussions pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9\nrencontrer le diable pourvu qu\u2019il ne soit pas venu sous une figure\ntrop effroyable. Nous avions la persuasion qu\u2019un b\u00e2timent hollandais\nserait notre ruine; nous n\u2019\u00e9tions pas de taille \u00e0 nous mesurer,\ntous les vaisseaux qui trafiquent dans ces parages \u00e9tant d\u2019un port\nconsid\u00e9rable et d\u2019une beaucoup plus grande force que nous.\nLe bonhomme s\u2019aper\u00e7ut de mon trouble et de mon embarras quand il me\nparla du navire hollandais, et il me dit:\n\u2014\u00abSir, vous n\u2019avez rien \u00e0 redouter des Hollandais, je ne suppose pas\nqu\u2019ils soient en guerre aujourd\u2019hui avec votre nation.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, dis-je,\nil est vrai; mais je ne sais quelles libert\u00e9s les hommes se peuvent\ndonner lorsqu\u2019ils sont hors de la port\u00e9e des lois de leur pays.\u00bb\u2014\u00abEh\nquoi! reprit-il, vous n\u2019\u00eates pas des pirates, que craignez-vous? A\ncoup s\u00fbr, on ne s\u2019attaquera pas \u00e0 de paisibles n\u00e9gociants.\u00bb\nSi, \u00e0 ces mots, tout mon sang ne me monta pas au visage, c\u2019est\nque quelque obstruction l\u2019arr\u00eata dans les vaisseaux que la nature\na destin\u00e9s \u00e0 sa circulation.\u2014Jet\u00e9 dans la derni\u00e8re confusion, je\ndissimulai mal, et le bonhomme s\u2019aper\u00e7ut ais\u00e9ment de mon \u00e9motion.\n\u2014\u00abSir, me dit-il, je vois que je d\u00e9concerte vos mesures: je vous en\nprie, s\u2019il vous pla\u00eet, faites ce que bon vous semble, et croyez bien\nque je vous servirai de toutes mes forces.\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, cela est vrai,\nsenhor, r\u00e9pondis-je, maintenant je suis quelque peu \u00e9branl\u00e9 dans ma\nr\u00e9solution, je ne sais o\u00f9 je dois aller, d\u2019autant surtout que vous\navez parl\u00e9 de pirates. J\u2019ose esp\u00e9rer qu\u2019il n\u2019y en a pas dans ces mers;\nnous serions en fort mauvaise position: vous le voyez, notre navire\nn\u2019est pas de haut bord et n\u2019est que faiblement \u00e9quip\u00e9.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abOh! sir, s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il, tranquillisez-vous; je ne sache pas qu\u2019aucun\npirate ait paru dans ces mers depuis quinze ans, un seul except\u00e9, qui\na \u00e9t\u00e9 vu, \u00e0 ce que j\u2019ai ou\u00ef dire, dans la baie de Siam il y a environ\nun mois; mais vous pouvez \u00eatre certain qu\u2019il est parti pour le Sud;\nd\u2019ailleurs ce b\u00e2timent n\u2019est ni formidable ni propre \u00e0 son m\u00e9tier; il\nn\u2019a pas \u00e9t\u00e9 construit pour faire la course; il a \u00e9t\u00e9 enlev\u00e9 par un\ntas de coquins qui se trouvaient \u00e0 bord, apr\u00e8s que le capitaine et\nquelques-uns de ses hommes eurent \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s par des Malais \u00e0 ou pr\u00e8s\nl\u2019\u00eele de Sumatra.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abQuoi! dis-je, faisant semblant de ne rien savoir de cette affaire,\nils ont assassin\u00e9 leur capitaine?\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, reprit-il, je ne pr\u00e9tends pas\nqu\u2019ils l\u2019aient massacr\u00e9; mais comme apr\u00e8s le coup ils se sont enfuis\navec le navire, on croit g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement qu\u2019ils l\u2019ont livr\u00e9 par trahison\nentre les mains de ces Malais qui l\u2019\u00e9gorg\u00e8rent, et que sans doute ils\navaient apost\u00e9s pour cela.\u00bb\u2014\u00abAlors, m\u2019\u00e9criai-je, ils ont m\u00e9rit\u00e9 la\nmort tout autant que s\u2019ils avaient frapp\u00e9 eux-m\u00eames\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui-da, repartit\nle bonhomme, ils l\u2019ont m\u00e9rit\u00e9e et pour certain ils l\u2019auront s\u2019ils sont\nd\u00e9couverts par quelque navire anglais ou hollandais; car tous sont\nconvenus, s\u2019ils rencontrent ces brigands, de ne leur point donner\nde quartier.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMais, lui fis-je observer, puisque vous dites que le\npirate a quitt\u00e9 ces mers, comment pourraient-ils le rencontrer?\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abOui, vraiment, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il, on assure qu\u2019il est parti; ce qu\u2019il y\na de certain toutefois, comme je vous l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, c\u2019est qu\u2019il est\nentr\u00e9 il y a environ un mois, dans la baie de Siam, dans la rivi\u00e8re\nde Camboge, et que l\u00e0, d\u00e9couvert par des Hollandais, qui avaient fait\npartie de l\u2019\u00e9quipage et qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 abandonn\u00e9s \u00e0 terre quand\nleurs compagnons s\u2019\u00e9taient enfuis avec le navire, peu s\u2019en est fallu\nqu\u2019il ne soit tomb\u00e9 entre les mains de quelques marchands anglais\net hollandais mouill\u00e9s dans la m\u00eame rivi\u00e8re. Si leurs premi\u00e8res\nembarcations avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bien second\u00e9es, on l\u2019aurait infailliblement\ncaptur\u00e9; mais ne se voyant harcel\u00e9 que par deux chaloupes, il vira\nvent devant, fit feu dessus, les d\u00e9sempara avant que les autres\nfussent arriv\u00e9es, puis, gagnant la haute mer, leur fit cesser la\nchasse et disparut. Comme ils ont une description exacte du navire,\nils sont s\u00fbrs de le reconna\u00eetre, et partout o\u00f9 ils le trouveront ils\nont jur\u00e9 de ne faire aucun quartier ni au capitaine ni \u00e0 ses hommes et\nde les pendre tous \u00e0 la grande vergue.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abQuoi! m\u2019\u00e9criai-je, ils les ex\u00e9cuteront \u00e0 tort ou \u00e0 droit? Ils les\npendront d\u2019abord et les jugeront ensuite?\u00bb\u2014\u00abBon Dieu! sir, r\u00e9pondit le\nvieux pilote, qu\u2019est-il besoin de formalit\u00e9s avec de pareils coquins?\nQu\u2019on les lie dos \u00e0 dos et qu\u2019on les jette \u00e0 la mer, c\u2019est l\u00e0 tout ce\nqu\u2019ils m\u00e9ritent.\u00bb\nSentant le bonhomme entre mes mains et dans l\u2019impossibilit\u00e9 de me\nnuire, je l\u2019interrompis brusquement:\u2014\u00abFort bien, senhor, lui dis-je,\net voil\u00e0 justement pourquoi je veux que vous nous meniez \u00e0 Nanking\net ne veux pas rebrousser vers Macao ou tout autre parage fr\u00e9quent\u00e9\npar les b\u00e2timents anglais ou hollandais; car, sachez, senhor, que\nmessieurs les capitaines de ces vaisseaux sont un tas de malavis\u00e9s,\nd\u2019orgueilleux, d\u2019insolents personnages qui ne savent ce que c\u2019est que\nla justice, ce que c\u2019est que de se conduire selon les lois de Dieu et\nla nature; fiers de leur office et n\u2019entendant goutte \u00e0 leur pouvoir\npour punir des voleurs, ils se font assassins; ils prennent sur eux\nd\u2019outrager des gens faussement accus\u00e9s et de les d\u00e9clarer coupables\nsans enqu\u00eate l\u00e9gale; mais si Dieu me pr\u00eate vie, je leur en ferai\nrendre compte, je leur ferai apprendre comment la justice veut \u00eatre\nadministr\u00e9e, et qu\u2019on ne doit pas traiter un homme comme un criminel\navant que d\u2019avoir quelque preuve et du crime et de la culpabilit\u00e9 de\ncet homme.\u00bb\nSur ce, je lui d\u00e9clarai que notre navire \u00e9tait celui-l\u00e0 m\u00eame que ces\nmessieurs avaient attaqu\u00e9; je lui exposai tout au long l\u2019escarmouche\nque nous avions eue avec leurs chaloupes et la sottise et la couardise\nde leur conduite; je lui contai toute l\u2019histoire de l\u2019acquisition\ndu navire et comment le Hollandais nous avait pr\u00e9sent\u00e9 la chose; je\nlui dis les raisons que j\u2019avais de ne pas ajouter foi \u00e0 l\u2019assassinat\ndu capitaine par les Malais, non plus qu\u2019au rapt du navire; que\nce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019une fable du cru de ces messieurs pour insinuer que\nl\u2019\u00e9quipage s\u2019\u00e9tait fait pirate; qu\u2019apr\u00e8s tout ces messieurs auraient\nd\u00fb au moins s\u2019assurer du fait avant de nous attaquer au d\u00e9pourvu et de\nnous contraindre \u00e0 leur r\u00e9sister:\u2014\u00abIls auront \u00e0 r\u00e9pondre, ajoutai-je,\ndu sang des hommes que dans notre l\u00e9gitime d\u00e9fense nous avons tu\u00e9s!\u00bb\n\u00c9bahi \u00e0 ce discours, le bonhomme nous dit que nous avions furieusement\nraison de gagner le Nord, et que, s\u2019il avait un conseil \u00e0 nous donner,\nce serait de vendre notre b\u00e2timent en Chine, chose facile, puis\nd\u2019en construire ou d\u2019en acheter un autre dans ce pays:\u2014\u00abAssur\u00e9ment,\najouta-t-il, vous n\u2019en trouverez pas d\u2019aussi bon que le v\u00f4tre; mais\nvous pourrez vous en procurer un plus que suffisant pour vous ramener\nvous et toutes vos marchandises au Bengale, ou partout ailleurs.\u00bb\nJe lui dis que j\u2019userais de son avis quand nous arriverions dans\nquelque port o\u00f9 je pourrais trouver un b\u00e2timent pour mon retour ou\nquelque chaland qui voul\u00fbt acheter le mien. Il m\u2019assura qu\u2019\u00e0 Nanking\nles acqu\u00e9reurs afflueraient; que pour m\u2019en revenir une jonque chinoise\nferait parfaitement mon affaire; et qu\u2019il me procurerait des gens qui\nm\u2019ach\u00e8teraient l\u2019un et qui me vendraient l\u2019autre.\n\u2014\u00abSoit! senhor, repris-je; mais comme vous dites que ces messieurs\nconnaissent si bien mon navire, en suivant vos conseils, je pourrais\njeter d\u2019honn\u00eates et braves gens dans un affreux gu\u00eapier et peut-\u00eatre\nles faire \u00e9gorger inopin\u00e9ment; car partout o\u00f9 ces messieurs\nrencontreront le navire, il leur suffira de le reconna\u00eetre pour\nimpliquer l\u2019\u00e9quipage: ainsi d\u2019innocentes cr\u00e9atures seraient surprises\net massacr\u00e9es.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, non, dit le bonhomme, j\u2019aviserai au moyen de\npr\u00e9venir ce malencontre: comme je connais tous ces commandants dont\nvous parlez et que je les verrai tous quand ils passeront, j\u2019aurai\nsoin de leur exposer la chose sous son vrai jour, et de leur d\u00e9montrer\nl\u2019\u00e9normit\u00e9 de leur m\u00e9prise; je leur dirai que s\u2019il est vrai que les\nhommes de l\u2019ancien \u00e9quipage se soient enfuis avec le navire, il est\nfaux pourtant qu\u2019ils se soient faits pirates; et que ceux qu\u2019ils ont\nassaillis vers Camboge ne sont pas ceux qui autrefois enlev\u00e8rent le\nnavire, mais de braves gens qui l\u2019ont achet\u00e9 innocemment pour leur\ncommerce: et je suis persuad\u00e9 qu\u2019ils ajouteront foi \u00e0 mes paroles,\nassez du moins pour agir avec plus de discr\u00e9tion \u00e0 l\u2019avenir.\u00bb\u2014\u00abBravo,\nlui dis-je, et voulez-vous leur remettre un message de ma part?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui,\nvolontiers, me r\u00e9pondit-il, si vous me le donnez par \u00e9crit et sign\u00e9,\nafin que je puisse leur prouver qu\u2019il vient de vous, qu\u2019il n\u2019est pas\nde mon cru.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMe rendant \u00e0 son d\u00e9sir, sur-le-champ je pris une plume,\nde l\u2019encre et du papier, et je me mis \u00e0 \u00e9crire sur l\u2019\u00e9chauffour\u00e9e des\nchaloupes, sur la pr\u00e9tendue raison de cet injuste et cruel outrage, un\nlong factum o\u00f9 je d\u00e9clarais en somme \u00e0 ces messieurs les commandants\nqu\u2019ils avaient fait une chose honteuse, et que, si jamais ils\nreparaissaient en Angleterre et que je v\u00e9cusse assez pour les y voir,\nils la paieraient cher, \u00e0 moins que durant mon absence les lois de ma\npatrie ne fussent tomb\u00e9es en d\u00e9su\u00e9tude.\nMon vieux pilote lut et relut ce manifeste et me demanda \u00e0 plusieurs\nreprises si j\u2019\u00e9tais pr\u00eat \u00e0 soutenir ce que j\u2019y avan\u00e7ais. Je lui\nr\u00e9pondis que je le maintiendrais tant qu\u2019il me resterait quelque\nchose au monde, dans la conviction o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais que t\u00f4t ou tard je\ndevais la trouver belle pour ma revanche. Mais je n\u2019eus pas l\u2019occasion\nd\u2019envoyer le pilote porter ce message, car il ne s\u2019en retourna\npoint[34]. Tandis que tout ceci se passait entre nous, par mani\u00e8re\nd\u2019entretien, nous avancions directement vers Nanking, et au bout\nd\u2019environ treize jours de navigation, nous v\u00eenmes jeter l\u2019ancre \u00e0 la\npointe sud-ouest du grand golfe de ce nom, o\u00f9 j\u2019appris par hasard\nque deux b\u00e2timents hollandais \u00e9taient arriv\u00e9s quelque temps avant\nmoi, et qu\u2019infailliblement je tomberais entre leurs mains. Dans\ncette conjoncture, je consultai de nouveau mon partner; il \u00e9tait\naussi embarrass\u00e9 que moi, et aurait bien voulu descendre sain et\nsauf \u00e0 terre, n\u2019importe o\u00f9. Comme ma perplexit\u00e9 ne me troublait pas\n\u00e0 ce point, je demandai au vieux pilote s\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas quelque\ncrique, quelque havre o\u00f9 je pusse entrer, pour traiter secr\u00e8tement\navec les Chinois sans \u00eatre en danger de l\u2019ennemi. Il me dit que si je\nvoulais faire encore quarante-deux lieues au sud, nous trouverions un\npetit port nomm\u00e9 Quinchang, o\u00f9 les p\u00e8res de la Mission d\u00e9barquaient\nd\u2019ordinaire en venant de Macao, pour aller enseigner la religion\nchr\u00e9tienne aux Chinois, et o\u00f9 les navires europ\u00e9ens ne se montraient\njamais; et que, si je jugeais \u00e0 propos de m\u2019y rendre, l\u00e0, quand\nj\u2019aurais mis pied \u00e0 terre, je pourrais prendre tout \u00e0 loisir une\nd\u00e9cision ult\u00e9rieure.\u2014\u00abJ\u2019avoue, ajouta-t-il, que ce n\u2019est pas une place\nmarchande, cependant \u00e0 certaines \u00e9poques il s\u2019y tient une sorte de\nfoire, o\u00f9 les n\u00e9gociants japonais viennent acheter des marchandises\nchinoises.\u00bb\nNous f\u00fbmes tous d\u2019avis de gagner ce port, dont peut-\u00eatre j\u2019\u00e9cris le\nnom de travers; je ne puis au juste me le rappeler, l\u2019ayant perdu\nainsi que plusieurs autres not\u00e9s sur un petit livre de poche que l\u2019eau\nme g\u00e2ta, dans un accident que je relaterai en son lieu; je me souviens\nseulement que les n\u00e9gociants chinois et japonais avec lesquels nous\nentr\u00e2mes en relation lui donnaient un autre nom que notre pilote\nportugais, et qu\u2019ils le pronon\u00e7aient comme ci-dessus Quinchang.\nUnanimes dans notre r\u00e9solution de nous rendre \u00e0 cette place, nous\nlev\u00e2mes l\u2019ancre le jour suivant; nous \u00e9tions all\u00e9s deux fois \u00e0\nterre pour prendre de l\u2019eau fra\u00eeche, et dans ces deux occasions les\nhabitants du pays s\u2019\u00e9taient montr\u00e9s tr\u00e8s civils envers nous, et nous\navaient apport\u00e9 une profusion de choses, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de provisions,\nde plantes, de racines, de th\u00e9, de riz et d\u2019oiseaux; mais rien sans\nargent.\n[Illustration: ... nous avaient apport\u00e9 une profusion de choses, mais\nrien sans argent.]\nLe vent \u00e9tant contraire, nous n\u2019arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 Quinchang qu\u2019au bout\nde cinq jours; mais notre satisfaction n\u2019en fut pas moins vive.\nTransport\u00e9 de joie, et, je puis bien le dire, de reconnaissance envers\nle ciel, quand je posai le pied sur le rivage, je fis serment ainsi\nque mon partner, s\u2019il nous \u00e9tait possible de disposer de nous et de\nnos marchandises d\u2019une mani\u00e8re quelconque, m\u00eame d\u00e9savantageuse, de ne\njamais remonter \u00e0 bord de ce navire de malheur. Oui, il me faut ici\nle reconna\u00eetre, de toutes les circonstances de la vie dont j\u2019ai fait\nquelque exp\u00e9rience, nulle ne rend l\u2019homme si compl\u00e8tement mis\u00e9rable\nqu\u2019une crainte continuelle. L\u2019\u00c9criture dit avec raison:\u2014\u00abL\u2019effroi que\ncon\u00e7oit un homme lui tend un pi\u00e8ge.\u00bb\u2014C\u2019est une mort dans la vie; elle\noppresse tellement l\u2019\u00e2me qu\u2019elle la plonge dans l\u2019inertie, \u00e9touffe\ntout sentiment et abat toute cette vigueur naturelle qui soutient\nordinairement l\u2019homme dans ses afflictions, et qu\u2019il retrouve toujours\ndans les plus grandes perplexit\u00e9s[35].\nCHAPITRE VI\n     Arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Quinchang.\u2014Anxieuses m\u00e9ditations.\u2014Le P\u00e8re Simon.\u2014En\n     Chine.\u2014Voyage \u00e0 Nanking.\u2014En route pour P\u00e9king.\u2014Don Quichotte\n     chinois.\u2014Pr\u00e9paratifs de d\u00e9part.\u2014La grande muraille.\u2014Rencontre\n     avec les barbares.\u2014Chameau vol\u00e9.\u2014Seconde rencontre.\u2014Travers\u00e9e\n     difficile.\u2014Une idole.\u2014A travers le d\u00e9sert.\u2014En Sib\u00e9rie.\u2014Derniers\n     pr\u00e9paratifs.\u2014Combat final.\u2014Arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Londres.\nCe sentiment qui grossit le danger ne manqua pas son effet ordinaire\nsur notre imagination en nous repr\u00e9sentant les capitaines anglais et\nhollandais comme des gens incapables d\u2019entendre raison, de distinguer\nl\u2019honn\u00eate homme d\u2019avec le coquin, de discerner une histoire en l\u2019air,\ncalcul\u00e9e pour nous nuire et dans le dessein de tromper, d\u2019avec le\nr\u00e9cit simple et vrai de tout notre voyage, de nos op\u00e9rations et de\nnos projets; car nous avions cent moyens de convaincre toute cr\u00e9ature\nraisonnable que nous n\u2019\u00e9tions pas des pirates: notre cargaison, la\nroute que nous tenions, la franchise avec laquelle nous nous montrions\net \u00e9tions entr\u00e9s dans tel et tel port, la forme et la faiblesse de\nnotre b\u00e2timent, le nombre de nos hommes, la petite quantit\u00e9 de nos\narmes et de nos munitions, la raret\u00e9 de nos vivres, n\u2019\u00e9tait-ce pas\nl\u00e0 tout autant de t\u00e9moignages irr\u00e9cusables? L\u2019opium et les autres\nmarchandises que nous avions \u00e0 bord auraient prouv\u00e9 que le navire\n\u00e9tait all\u00e9 au Bengale; les Hollandais, qui, disait-on, avaient tous\nles noms des hommes de son ancien \u00e9quipage, auraient vu ais\u00e9ment que\nnous \u00e9tions un m\u00e9lange d\u2019Anglais, de Portugais et d\u2019Indiens, et qu\u2019il\nn\u2019y avait parmi nous que deux Hollandais. Toutes ces circonstances et\nbien d\u2019autres encore auraient suffi et au del\u00e0 pour rendre \u00e9vident \u00e0\ntout capitaine entre les mains de qui nous serions tomb\u00e9s que nous\nn\u2019\u00e9tions pas des pirates.\nMais la peur, cette aveugle et vaine passion, nous troublait et\nnous jetait dans les vapeurs: elle brouillait notre cervelle, et\nnotre imagination abus\u00e9e enfantait mille terribles choses moralement\nimpossibles. Nous nous figurions, comme on nous l\u2019avait rapport\u00e9,\nque les marins des navires anglais et hollandais, que ces derniers,\nparticuli\u00e8rement, \u00e9taient si enrag\u00e9s au seul nom de pirate, surtout\nsi furieux de la d\u00e9confiture de leurs chaloupes et de notre fuite\nque, sans se donner le temps de s\u2019informer si nous \u00e9tions ou non\ndes \u00e9cumeurs et sans vouloir rien entendre, ils nous ex\u00e9cuteraient\nsur-le-champ. Pour qu\u2019ils daignassent faire plus de c\u00e9r\u00e9monie, nous\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chissions que la chose avait \u00e0 leurs yeux de trop grandes\napparences de v\u00e9rit\u00e9: le vaisseau n\u2019\u00e9tait-il pas le m\u00eame, quelques-uns\nde leurs matelots ne le connaissaient-ils pas, n\u2019avaient-ils pas\nfait partie de son \u00e9quipage, et dans la rivi\u00e8re de Camboge, lorsque\nnous avions appris qu\u2019ils devaient descendre pour nous examiner,\nn\u2019avions-nous pas battu leurs chaloupes et lev\u00e9 le pied? Nous ne\nmettions donc pas en doute qu\u2019ils ne fussent aussi pleinement assur\u00e9s\nque nous \u00e9tions pirates que nous \u00e9tions convaincus du contraire;\net souvent je disais que je ne savais si, nos r\u00f4les chang\u00e9s, notre\ncas devenu le leur, je n\u2019eusse pas consid\u00e9r\u00e9 tout ceci comme de la\nderni\u00e8re \u00e9vidence, et me fusse fait aucun scrupule de tailler en\npi\u00e8ces l\u2019\u00e9quipage sans croire et peut-\u00eatre m\u00eame sans \u00e9couter ce qu\u2019il\naurait pu all\u00e9guer pour sa d\u00e9fense.\nQuoi qu\u2019il en f\u00fbt, telles avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 nos appr\u00e9hensions, et mon\npartner et moi nous avions rarement ferm\u00e9 l\u2019\u0153il sans r\u00eaver corde et\ngrande vergue, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire potence; sans r\u00eaver que nous combattions,\nque nous \u00e9tions pris, que nous tuions et que nous \u00e9tions tu\u00e9s. Une\nnuit entre autres, dans mon songe j\u2019entrai dans une telle fureur,\nm\u2019imaginant que les Hollandais nous abordaient et que j\u2019assommais\nun de leurs matelots, que je frappai du poing contre le c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la\ncabine o\u00f9 je couchais et avec une telle force que je me blessai tr\u00e8s\ngri\u00e8vement la main, que je me foulai les jointures, que je me meurtris\net d\u00e9chirai la chair: \u00e0 ce coup non seulement je me r\u00e9veillai en\nsursaut, mais encore je fus en transe un moment d\u2019avoir perdu deux\ndoigts.\nUne autre crainte dont j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 poss\u00e9d\u00e9, c\u2019\u00e9tait le traitement\ncruel que nous feraient les Hollandais si nous tombions entre leurs\nmains. Alors l\u2019histoire d\u2019Amboyne me revenait dans l\u2019esprit, et je\npensais qu\u2019ils pourraient nous appliquer la question, comme en cette\n\u00eele ils l\u2019avaient appliqu\u00e9e \u00e0 nos compatriotes, et forcer par la\nviolence de la torture quelques-uns de nos hommes \u00e0 confesser des\ncrimes dont jamais ils ne s\u2019\u00e9taient rendus coupables, \u00e0 s\u2019avouer eux\net nous tous pirates, afin de pouvoir nous mettre \u00e0 mort avec quelques\napparences de justice; pouss\u00e9s qu\u2019ils seraient \u00e0 cela par l\u2019app\u00e2t du\ngain, notre vaisseau et sa cargaison valant en somme quatre ou cinq\nmille livres sterling.\nToutes ces appr\u00e9hensions nous avaient tourment\u00e9s, mon partner et\nmoi, nuit et jour. Nous ne prenions point en consid\u00e9ration que les\ncapitaines de navire n\u2019avaient aucune autorit\u00e9 pour agir ainsi, et\nque si nous nous constituions leurs prisonniers, ils ne pourraient\nse permettre de nous torturer, de nous mettre \u00e0 mort sans en \u00eatre\nresponsables quand ils retourneraient dans leur patrie: au fait,\nceci n\u2019avait rien de bien rassurant; car s\u2019ils eussent mal agi \u00e0\nnotre \u00e9gard, le bel avantage pour nous qu\u2019ils fussent appel\u00e9s \u00e0 en\nrendre compte, et si nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 occis tout d\u2019abord, la belle\nsatisfaction pour nous qu\u2019ils en fussent punis quand ils rentreraient\nchez eux.\nJe ne puis m\u2019emp\u00eacher de consigner ici quelques r\u00e9flexions que je\nfaisais alors sur mes nombreuses vicissitudes pass\u00e9es. Oh! combien\nje trouvais cruel que moi, qui avais d\u00e9pens\u00e9 quarante ann\u00e9es de\nma vie dans de continuelles traverses, qui avais enfin touch\u00e9 en\nquelque sorte au port vers lequel tendent tous les hommes, le repos\net l\u2019abondance, je me fusse volontairement jet\u00e9 dans de nouveaux\nchagrins, par mon choix funeste, et que moi, qui avais \u00e9chapp\u00e9 \u00e0 tant\nde p\u00e9rils dans ma jeunesse, j\u2019en fusse venu sur le d\u00e9clin de l\u2019\u00e2ge,\ndans une contr\u00e9e lointaine, en lieu et circonstance o\u00f9 mon innocence\nne pouvait m\u2019\u00eatre d\u2019aucune protection, \u00e0 me faire pendre pour un crime\nque, bien loin d\u2019en \u00eatre coupable, j\u2019ex\u00e9crais.\nA ces pens\u00e9es succ\u00e9dait un \u00e9lan religieux, et je me prenais \u00e0\nconsid\u00e9rer que c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 sans doute une disposition imm\u00e9diate de la\nProvidence; que je devais le regarder comme tel et m\u2019y soumettre;\nque, bien que je fusse innocent devant les hommes, tant s\u2019en fallait\nque je le fusse devant mon Cr\u00e9ateur; que je devais songer aux fautes\nsignal\u00e9es dont ma vie \u00e9tait pleine et pour lesquelles la Providence\npouvait m\u2019infliger ce ch\u00e2timent, comme une juste r\u00e9tribution; enfin,\nque je devais m\u2019y r\u00e9signer comme je me serais r\u00e9sign\u00e9 \u00e0 un naufrage\ns\u2019il e\u00fbt plu \u00e0 Dieu de me frapper d\u2019un pareil d\u00e9sastre.\nA son tour mon courage naturel quelquefois reparaissait, je formais de\nvigoureuses r\u00e9solutions, je jurais de ne jamais me laisser prendre, de\nne jamais me laisser torturer par une poign\u00e9e de barbares froidement\nimpitoyables; je me disais qu\u2019il aurait mieux valu pour moi tomber\nentre les mains des sauvages, des cannibales, qui, s\u2019ils m\u2019eussent\nfait prisonnier, m\u2019eussent \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr d\u00e9vor\u00e9, que de tomber entre\nles mains de ces messieurs, dont peut-\u00eatre la rage s\u2019assouvirait\nsur moi par des cruaut\u00e9s inou\u00efes, des atrocit\u00e9s. Je me disais ceci:\nQuand autrefois j\u2019en venais aux mains avec les sauvages, n\u2019\u00e9tais-je\npas r\u00e9solu \u00e0 combattre jusqu\u2019au dernier soupir? et je me demandais\npourquoi je ne ferais pas de m\u00eame alors, puisque \u00eatre pris par ces\nmessieurs \u00e9tait pour moi une id\u00e9e plus terrible que ne l\u2019avait jamais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 celle d\u2019\u00eatre mang\u00e9 par les sauvages. Les Cara\u00efbes, \u00e0 leur rendre\njustice, ne mangeaient pas un prisonnier qu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt rendu l\u2019\u00e2me, ils\nle tuaient d\u2019abord comme nous tuons un b\u0153uf; tandis que ces messieurs\nposs\u00e9daient une multitude de raffinements ing\u00e9nieux pour ench\u00e9rir sur\nla cruaut\u00e9 de la mort.\u2014Toutes les fois que ces pens\u00e9es prenaient le\ndessus, je tombais immanquablement dans une sorte de fi\u00e8vre, allum\u00e9e\npar les agitations d\u2019un combat suppos\u00e9: mon sang bouillait, mes yeux\n\u00e9tincelaient comme si j\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 dans la m\u00eal\u00e9e, puis je jurais de ne\npoint accepter de quartier et, quand je ne pourrais plus r\u00e9sister, de\nfaire sauter le navire et tout ce qui s\u2019y trouvait pour ne laisser \u00e0\nl\u2019ennemi qu\u2019un ch\u00e9tif butin dont il p\u00fbt faire troph\u00e9e.\nMais aussi lourd qu\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le poids de ces anxi\u00e9t\u00e9s et de ces\nperplexit\u00e9s tandis que nous \u00e9tions \u00e0 bord, aussi grande fut notre joie\nquand nous nous v\u00eemes \u00e0 terre, et mon partner me conta qu\u2019il avait\nr\u00eav\u00e9 que ses \u00e9paules \u00e9taient charg\u00e9es d\u2019un fardeau tr\u00e8s pesant qu\u2019il\ndevait porter au sommet d\u2019une montagne: il sentait qu\u2019il ne pourrait\nle soutenir longtemps; mais \u00e9tait survenu le pilote portugais qui l\u2019en\navait d\u00e9barrass\u00e9, la montagne avait disparu et il n\u2019avait plus aper\u00e7u\ndevant lui qu\u2019une plaine douce et unie. Vraiment il en \u00e9tait ainsi,\nnous \u00e9tions comme des hommes qu\u2019on a d\u00e9livr\u00e9s d\u2019un pesant fardeau.\nPour ma part, j\u2019avais le c\u0153ur d\u00e9barrass\u00e9 d\u2019un poids sous lequel je\nfaiblissais; et, comme je l\u2019ai dit, je fis serment de ne jamais\nretourner en mer sur ce navire.\u2014Quand nous f\u00fbmes \u00e0 terre, le vieux\npilote, devenu alors notre ami, nous procura un logement et un magasin\npour nos marchandises, qui dans le fond ne faisaient \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s qu\u2019un:\nc\u2019\u00e9tait une hutte contigu\u00eb \u00e0 une maison spacieuse, le tout construit\nen cannes et environn\u00e9 d\u2019une palissade de gros roseaux pour garder des\npilleries des voleurs, qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, pullulent dans le pays.\nN\u00e9anmoins, les magistrats nous octroy\u00e8rent une petite garde: nous\navions un soldat qui, avec une esp\u00e8ce de hallebarde ou de demi-pique,\nfaisait sentinelle \u00e0 notre porte et auquel nous donnions une mesure de\nriz et une petite pi\u00e8ce de monnaie, environ la valeur de trois pence\npar jour. Gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 tout cela, nos marchandises \u00e9taient en s\u00fbret\u00e9.\nLa foire habituellement tenue dans ce lieu \u00e9tait termin\u00e9e depuis\nquelque temps; cependant nous trouv\u00e2mes encore trois ou quatre jonques\ndans la rivi\u00e8re et deux _japoniers_, j\u2019entends deux vaisseaux du\nJapon, charg\u00e9s de marchandises chinoises, attendant, pour faire voile,\nles n\u00e9gociants japonais qui \u00e9taient encore \u00e0 terre.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose que fit pour nous notre vieux pilote portugais, ce\nfut de nous m\u00e9nager la connaissance de trois missionnaires catholiques\nqui se trouvaient dans la ville et qui s\u2019y \u00e9taient arr\u00eat\u00e9s depuis\nassez longtemps pour convertir les habitants au christianisme; mais\nnous cr\u00fbmes voir qu\u2019ils ne faisaient que de piteuse besogne et que les\nchr\u00e9tiens qu\u2019ils faisaient n\u2019\u00e9taient que de tristes chr\u00e9tiens. Quoi\nqu\u2019il en f\u00fbt, ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas notre affaire. Un de ces pr\u00eatres \u00e9tait\nun Fran\u00e7ais qu\u2019on appelait le P\u00e8re Simon, homme de bonne et joyeuse\nhumeur, franc dans ses propos et n\u2019ayant pas la mine si s\u00e9rieuse et\nsi grave que les deux autres, l\u2019un Portugais, l\u2019autre G\u00e9nois. Le P\u00e8re\nSimon \u00e9tait courtois, ais\u00e9 dans ses mani\u00e8res et d\u2019un commerce fort\naimable; ses deux compagnons, plus r\u00e9serv\u00e9s, paraissaient rigides et\naust\u00e8res, et s\u2019appliquaient tout de bon \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153uvre pour laquelle ils\n\u00e9taient venus, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 s\u2019entretenir avec les habitants et \u00e0\ns\u2019insinuer parmi eux toutes les fois que l\u2019occasion s\u2019en pr\u00e9sentait.\nSouvent nous prenions nos repas avec ces r\u00e9v\u00e9rends; et quoique, \u00e0 vrai\ndire, ce qu\u2019ils appellent la conversion des Chinois au christianisme\nsoit fort \u00e9loign\u00e9e de la vraie conversion requise pour amener un\npeuple \u00e0 la foi du Christ, et ne semble gu\u00e8re consister qu\u2019\u00e0 leur\napprendre le nom de J\u00e9sus, \u00e0 r\u00e9citer quelques pri\u00e8res \u00e0 la Vierge\nMarie et \u00e0 son Fils dans une langue qu\u2019ils ne comprennent pas, \u00e0\nfaire le signe de la croix et autres choses semblables, cependant il\nme faut l\u2019avouer, ces religieux qu\u2019on appelle missionnaires ont une\nferme croyance que ces gens seront sauv\u00e9s et qu\u2019ils sont l\u2019instrument\nde leur salut; dans cette persuasion, ils subissent non seulement les\nfatigues du voyage, les dangers d\u2019une pareille vie, mais souvent la\nmort m\u00eame avec les tortures les plus violentes pour l\u2019accomplissement\nde cette \u0153uvre; et ce serait de notre part un grand manque de charit\u00e9,\nquelque opinion que nous ayons de leur besogne en elle-m\u00eame et de leur\nmani\u00e8re de l\u2019exp\u00e9dier, si nous n\u2019avions pas une haute opinion du z\u00e8le\nqui la leur fait entreprendre \u00e0 travers tant de dangers, sans avoir en\nvue pour eux-m\u00eames le moindre avantage temporel[36].\nOr, pour en revenir \u00e0 mon histoire, ce pr\u00eatre fran\u00e7ais, le P\u00e8re\nSimon, avait, ce me semble, ordre du chef de la mission de se rendre\n\u00e0 P\u00e9king, r\u00e9sidence royale de l\u2019Empereur chinois, et attendait un\nautre pr\u00eatre qu\u2019on devait lui envoyer de Macao pour l\u2019accompagner.\nNous nous trouvions rarement ensemble sans qu\u2019il m\u2019invit\u00e2t \u00e0 faire\nce voyage avec lui, m\u2019assurant qu\u2019il me montrerait toutes les choses\nglorieuses de ce puissant Empire, et entre autres la plus grande cit\u00e9\ndu monde:\u2014\u00abCit\u00e9, disait-il, que votre Londres et notre Paris r\u00e9unis ne\npourraient \u00e9galer.\u00bb\u2014Il voulait parler de P\u00e9king, qui, je l\u2019avoue, est\nune ville fort grande et infiniment peupl\u00e9e; mais comme j\u2019ai regard\u00e9\nces choses d\u2019un autre \u0153il que le commun des hommes, j\u2019en donnerai donc\nmon opinion en peu de mots quand, dans la suite de mes voyages, je\nserai amen\u00e9 \u00e0 en parler plus particuli\u00e8rement.\nMais d\u2019abord je retourne \u00e0 mon moine ou missionnaire: d\u00eenant un\njour avec lui, nous trouvant tous fort gais, je lui laissai voir\nquelque penchant \u00e0 le suivre, et il se mit \u00e0 me presser tr\u00e8s\nvivement, ainsi que mon partner, et \u00e0 nous faire mille s\u00e9ductions\npour nous d\u00e9cider.\u2014\u00abD\u2019o\u00f9 vient donc, P\u00e8re Simon, dit mon partner,\nque vous souhaitez si fort notre soci\u00e9t\u00e9? Vous savez que nous sommes\nh\u00e9r\u00e9tiques; vous ne pouvez nous aimer ni go\u00fbter notre compagnie.\u00bb\u2014\u00abOh!\ns\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il, vous deviendrez peut-\u00eatre de bons catholiques, avec\nle temps: mon affaire ici est de convertir des pa\u00efens; et qui sait\nsi je ne vous convertirai pas aussi?\u00bb\u2014\u00abTr\u00e8s bien, P\u00e8re, repris-je;\nainsi vous nous pr\u00eacherez tout le long du chemin?\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, non, je ne\nvous importunerai pas: notre religion n\u2019est pas incompatible avec les\nbonnes mani\u00e8res; d\u2019ailleurs, nous sommes tous ici cens\u00e9s compatriotes.\nAu fait, ne le sommes-nous pas eu \u00e9gard au pays o\u00f9 nous nous trouvons;\net si vous \u00eates huguenots et moi catholique, au total ne sommes-nous\npas tous chr\u00e9tiens? Tout au moins, ajouta-t-il, nous sommes tous de\nbraves gens et nous pouvons fort bien nous hanter sans nous incommoder\nl\u2019un l\u2019autre.\u00bb\u2014Je go\u00fbtai fort ces derni\u00e8res paroles, qui rappel\u00e8rent\n\u00e0 mon souvenir mon jeune eccl\u00e9siastique que j\u2019avais laiss\u00e9 au Br\u00e9sil,\nmais il s\u2019en fallait de beaucoup que ce P\u00e8re Simon approch\u00e2t de son\ncaract\u00e8re; car bien que le P\u00e8re Simon n\u2019e\u00fbt en lui nulle apparence\nde l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9 criminelle, cependant il n\u2019avait pas ce fonds de z\u00e8le\nchr\u00e9tien, de pi\u00e9t\u00e9 stricte, d\u2019affection sinc\u00e8re pour la religion que\nmon autre bon eccl\u00e9siastique poss\u00e9dait et dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 longuement.\nMais laissons un peu le P\u00e8re Simon, quoiqu\u2019il ne nous laiss\u00e2t point,\nni ne cess\u00e2t de nous solliciter de partir avec lui. Autre chose alors\nnous pr\u00e9occupait: il s\u2019agissait de nous d\u00e9faire de notre navire et\nde nos marchandises, et nous commencions \u00e0 douter fort que nous le\npussions, car nous \u00e9tions dans une place peu marchande: une fois m\u00eame\nje fus tent\u00e9 de me hasarder \u00e0 faire voile pour la rivi\u00e8re de Kilam et\nla ville de Nanking; mais la Providence sembla alors, plus visiblement\nque jamais, s\u2019int\u00e9resser \u00e0 nos affaires, et mon courage fut tout \u00e0\ncoup relev\u00e9 par le pressentiment que je devais, d\u2019une mani\u00e8re ou d\u2019une\nautre, sortir de cette perplexit\u00e9 et revoir enfin ma patrie: pourtant\nje n\u2019avais pas le moindre soup\u00e7on de la voie qui s\u2019ouvrirait, et quand\nje me prenais quelquefois \u00e0 y songer, je ne pouvais imaginer comment\ncela adviendrait. La Providence, dis-je, commen\u00e7a ici \u00e0 d\u00e9barrasser un\npeu notre route, et pour la premi\u00e8re chose heureuse voici que notre\nvieux pilote portugais nous amena un n\u00e9gociant japonais qui, apr\u00e8s\ns\u2019\u00eatre enquis des marchandises que nous avions, nous acheta en premier\nlieu tout notre opium: il nous en donna un tr\u00e8s bon prix, et nous paya\nen or, au poids, partie en petites pi\u00e8ces au coin du pays, partie en\npetits lingots d\u2019environ dix ou onze onces chacun. Tandis que nous\n\u00e9tions en affaire avec lui pour notre opium, il me vint \u00e0 l\u2019esprit\nqu\u2019il pourrait bien aussi s\u2019arranger de notre navire, et j\u2019ordonnai\n\u00e0 l\u2019interpr\u00e8te de lui en faire la proposition; \u00e0 cette ouverture, il\nleva tout bonnement les \u00e9paules, mais quelques jours apr\u00e8s il revint\navec un des missionnaires comme trucheman, et me fit cette offre:\u2014\u00abJe\nvous ai achet\u00e9, dit-il, une trop grande quantit\u00e9 de marchandises avant\nd\u2019avoir la pens\u00e9e ou que la proposition m\u2019ait \u00e9t\u00e9 faite d\u2019acheter\nce navire, de sorte qu\u2019il ne me reste pas assez d\u2019argent pour le\npayer; mais si vous voulez le confier au m\u00eame \u00e9quipage, je le louerai\npour aller au Japon, d\u2019o\u00f9 je l\u2019enverrai aux \u00eeles Philippines avec\nun nouveau chargement dont je paierai le fret avant son d\u00e9part du\nJapon, et \u00e0 son retour je l\u2019ach\u00e8terai.\u00bb\u2014Je pr\u00eatai l\u2019oreille \u00e0 cette\nproposition, et elle remua si vivement mon humeur aventuri\u00e8re que je\ncon\u00e7us aussit\u00f4t l\u2019id\u00e9e de partir moi-m\u00eame avec lui, puis de faire\nvoile des \u00eeles Philippines pour les mers du Sud. Je demandai donc au\nn\u00e9gociant japonais s\u2019il ne pourrait pas ne nous garder que jusqu\u2019aux\nPhilippines et nous cong\u00e9dier l\u00e0. Il r\u00e9pondit que la chose \u00e9tait\nimpossible, parce qu\u2019alors il ne pourrait effectuer le retour de sa\ncargaison, mais qu\u2019il nous cong\u00e9dierait au Japon, \u00e0 la rentr\u00e9e du\nnavire. J\u2019y adh\u00e9rais, toujours dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 partir; mais mon partner,\nplus sage que moi, m\u2019en dissuada en me repr\u00e9sentant les dangers\nauxquels j\u2019allais m\u2019exposer et sur ces mers, et chez les Japonais, qui\nsont faux, cruels et perfides, et chez les Espagnols des Philippines,\nplus faux, plus cruels et plus perfides encore.\n[Illustration: Il revint avec un des missionnaires...]\nMais pour amener \u00e0 conclusion ce grand changement dans nos affaires,\nil fallait d\u2019abord consulter le capitaine du navire et l\u2019\u00e9quipage, et\nsavoir s\u2019ils voulaient aller au Japon, et tandis que cela m\u2019occupait,\nle jeune homme que mon neveu m\u2019avait laiss\u00e9 pour compagnon de voyage\nvint \u00e0 moi et me dit qu\u2019il croyait l\u2019exp\u00e9dition propos\u00e9e fort belle,\nqu\u2019elle promettait de grands avantages et qu\u2019il serait ravi que je\nl\u2019entreprisse; mais que si je ne me d\u00e9cidais pas \u00e0 cela et que je\nvoulusse l\u2019y autoriser, il \u00e9tait pr\u00eat \u00e0 partir comme marchand, ou en\ntoute autre qualit\u00e9, \u00e0 mon bon plaisir.\u2014\u00abSi jamais je retourne en\nAngleterre, ajouta-t-il, et vous y retrouve vivant, je vous rendrai un\ncompte fid\u00e8le de mon gain, qui sera tout \u00e0 votre discr\u00e9tion.\u00bb\nIl m\u2019\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement p\u00e9nible de me s\u00e9parer de lui; mais, songeant\naux avantages qui \u00e9taient vraiment consid\u00e9rables, et que ce jeune\nhomme \u00e9tait aussi propre \u00e0 mener l\u2019affaire \u00e0 bien que qui que ce f\u00fbt,\nj\u2019inclinai \u00e0 le laisser partir; cependant je lui dis que je voulais\nd\u2019abord consulter mon partner, et que je lui donnerais une r\u00e9ponse\nle lendemain. Je m\u2019en entretins donc avec mon partner, qui s\u2019y pr\u00eata\ntr\u00e8s g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement.\u2014\u00abVous savez, me dit-il, que ce navire nous a \u00e9t\u00e9\nfuneste, et que nous avons r\u00e9solu tous les deux de ne plus nous y\nembarquer: si votre intendant\u2014ainsi appelait-il mon jeune homme\u2014veut\ntenter le voyage, je lui abandonne ma part du navire pour qu\u2019il en\ntire le meilleur parti possible; et si nous vivons assez pour revoir\nl\u2019Angleterre, et s\u2019il r\u00e9ussit dans ces exp\u00e9ditions lointaines, il nous\ntiendra compte de la moiti\u00e9 du profit du louage du navire, l\u2019autre\nmoiti\u00e9 sera pour lui.\u00bb\nMon partner, qui n\u2019avait nulle raison de prendre int\u00e9r\u00eat \u00e0 ce jeune\nhomme, faisant une offre semblable, je me gardai bien d\u2019\u00eatre moins\ng\u00e9n\u00e9reux; et tout l\u2019\u00e9quipage consentant \u00e0 partir avec lui, nous lui\ndonn\u00e2mes la moiti\u00e9 du b\u00e2timent en propri\u00e9t\u00e9, et nous re\u00e7\u00fbmes de lui un\n\u00e9crit par lequel il s\u2019obligeait \u00e0 nous tenir compte de l\u2019autre; puis\nil partit pour le Japon.\u2014Le n\u00e9gociant japonais se montra un parfait\nhonn\u00eate homme \u00e0 son \u00e9gard: il le prot\u00e9gea au Japon, et lui fit obtenir\nla permission de descendre \u00e0 terre, faveur qu\u2019en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral les Europ\u00e9ens\nn\u2019obtiennent plus depuis quelque temps; il lui paya son fret tr\u00e8s\nponctuellement, et l\u2019envoya aux Philippines charg\u00e9 de porcelaines du\nJapon et de la Chine avec un subr\u00e9cargue du pays, qui, apr\u00e8s avoir\ntrafiqu\u00e9 avec les Espagnols, rapporta des marchandises europ\u00e9ennes et\nun fort lot de clous de girofle et autres \u00e9pices. A son arriv\u00e9e, non\nseulement il lui paya son fret aussit\u00f4t et grassement, mais encore,\ncomme notre jeune homme ne se souciait point alors de vendre le\nnavire, le n\u00e9gociant lui fournit des marchandises pour son compte; de\nsorte qu\u2019avec quelque argent et quelques \u00e9pices qu\u2019il avait d\u2019autre\npart et qu\u2019il emporta avec lui, il retourna aux Philippines, chez\nles Espagnols, o\u00f9 il se d\u00e9fit de sa cargaison tr\u00e8s avantageusement.\nL\u00e0, s\u2019\u00e9tant fait de bonnes connaissances \u00e0 Manille, il obtint que\nson navire f\u00fbt d\u00e9clar\u00e9 libre; et le gouverneur de Manille l\u2019ayant\nlou\u00e9 pour aller en Am\u00e9rique, \u00e0 Acapulco, sur la c\u00f4te du Mexique, il\nlui donna la permission d\u2019y d\u00e9barquer, de se rendre \u00e0 Mexico, et de\nprendre passage pour l\u2019Europe, lui et tout son monde, sur un navire\nespagnol.\nIl fit le voyage d\u2019Acapulco tr\u00e8s heureusement, et il y vendit son\nnavire. L\u00e0, ayant aussi obtenu la permission de se rendre par terre \u00e0\nPorto-Bello, il trouva, je ne sais comment, le moyen de passer \u00e0 la\nJama\u00efque avec tout ce qu\u2019il avait, et environ huit ans apr\u00e8s il revint\nen Angleterre excessivement riche: de quoi je parlerai en son lieu.\nSur ce, je reviens \u00e0 mes propres affaires.\nSur le point de nous s\u00e9parer du b\u00e2timent et de l\u2019\u00e9quipage, nous nous\npr\u00eemes naturellement \u00e0 songer \u00e0 la r\u00e9compense que nous devions donner\naux deux hommes qui nous avaient avertis si fort \u00e0 propos du projet\nform\u00e9 contre nous dans la rivi\u00e8re de Camboge. Le fait est qu\u2019ils\nnous avaient rendu un service insigne, et qu\u2019ils m\u00e9ritaient bien de\nnous, quoique, soit dit en passant, ils ne fussent eux-m\u00eames qu\u2019une\npaire de coquins; car, ajoutant foi \u00e0 la fable qui nous transformait\nen pirates, et ne doutant pas que nous ne nous fussions enfuis avec\nle navire, ils \u00e9taient venus nous trouver, non seulement pour nous\navertir de ce qu\u2019on machinait contre nous, mais encore pour s\u2019en aller\nfaire la course en notre compagnie, et l\u2019un d\u2019eux avoua plus tard que\nl\u2019esp\u00e9rance seule d\u2019\u00e9cumer la mer avec nous l\u2019avait pouss\u00e9 \u00e0 cette\nr\u00e9v\u00e9lation. N\u2019importe! le service qu\u2019ils nous avaient rendu n\u2019en \u00e9tait\npas moins grand, et c\u2019est pourquoi, comme je leur avais promis d\u2019\u00eatre\nreconnaissant envers eux, j\u2019ordonnai premi\u00e8rement qu\u2019on leur pay\u00e2t\nles appointements qu\u2019ils d\u00e9claraient leur \u00eatre dus \u00e0 bord de leurs\nvaisseaux respectifs, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 l\u2019Anglais neuf mois de ses gages\net sept au Hollandais; puis, en outre, et par-dessus, je leur fis\ndonner une petite somme en or, \u00e0 leur grand contentement. Je nommai\nensuite l\u2019Anglais ma\u00eetre canonnier du bord, le n\u00f4tre ayant pass\u00e9\nlieutenant en second et commis aux vivres; pour le Hollandais, je le\nfis ma\u00eetre d\u2019\u00e9quipage. Ainsi grandement satisfaits, l\u2019un et l\u2019autre\nrendirent de bons offices, car tous les deux \u00e9taient d\u2019habiles marins\net d\u2019intr\u00e9pides compagnons.\nNous \u00e9tions alors sur le sol de la Chine; et si au Bengale je m\u2019\u00e9tais\ncru banni et \u00e9loign\u00e9 de ma patrie, tandis que pour mon argent j\u2019avais\ntant de moyens de revenir chez moi, que ne devais-je pas penser en ce\nmoment o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais environ \u00e0 mille lieues plus loin de l\u2019Angleterre,\net sans perspective aucune de retour!\nSeulement, comme une autre foire devait se tenir au bout de quatre\nmois dans la ville o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions, nous esp\u00e9rions qu\u2019alors nous\nserions \u00e0 m\u00eame de nous procurer toutes sortes de produits du pays, et\nvraisemblablement de trouver quelque jonque chinoise ou quelque navire\nvenant de Nanking qui serait \u00e0 vendre et pourrait nous transporter\nnous et nos marchandises o\u00f9 il nous plairait. Faisant fond l\u00e0-dessus,\nje r\u00e9solus d\u2019attendre; d\u2019ailleurs, comme nos personnes priv\u00e9es\nn\u2019\u00e9taient pas suspectes, si quelques b\u00e2timents anglais ou hollandais\nse pr\u00e9sentaient ne pouvions-nous pas trouver l\u2019occasion de charger nos\nmarchandises et d\u2019obtenir passage pour quelque autre endroit des Indes\nmoins \u00e9loign\u00e9 de notre patrie?\nDans cette esp\u00e9rance, nous nous d\u00e9termin\u00e2mes donc \u00e0 demeurer en ce\nlieu; mais, pour nous r\u00e9cr\u00e9er, nous nous perm\u00eemes deux ou trois\npetites tourn\u00e9es dans le pays. Nous f\u00eemes d\u2019abord un voyage de dix\njours pour aller voir Nanking, ville vraiment digne d\u2019\u00eatre visit\u00e9e.\nOn dit qu\u2019elle renferme un million d\u2019\u00e2mes, je ne le crois pas: elle\nest sym\u00e9triquement b\u00e2tie, toutes les rues sont r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement align\u00e9es\net se croisent l\u2019une l\u2019autre en ligne droite, ce qui lui donne une\navantageuse apparence.\nMais quand j\u2019en viens \u00e0 comparer les mis\u00e9rables peuples de ces r\u00e9gions\naux peuples de nos contr\u00e9es, leurs \u00e9difices, leurs m\u0153urs, leur\ngouvernement, leur religion, leurs richesses et leur splendeur,\u2014comme\ndisent quelques-uns,\u2014j\u2019avoue que tout cela me semble ne pas valoir\nla peine d\u2019\u00eatre nomm\u00e9, ne pas valoir le temps que je passerais \u00e0 le\nd\u00e9crire et que perdraient \u00e0 le lire ceux qui viendront apr\u00e8s moi.\nIl est \u00e0 remarquer que nous nous \u00e9bahissons de la grandeur, de\nl\u2019opulence, des c\u00e9r\u00e9monies, de la pompe, du gouvernement, des\nmanufactures, du commerce et de la conduite de ces peuples, non\nparce que ces choses m\u00e9ritent de fixer notre admiration ou m\u00eame nos\nregards, mais seulement parce que, tout remplis de l\u2019id\u00e9e primitive\nque nous avons de la barbarie de ces contr\u00e9es, de la grossi\u00e8ret\u00e9 et de\nl\u2019ignorance qui y r\u00e8gnent, nous ne nous attendons pas \u00e0 y trouver rien\nde si avanc\u00e9.\nAutrement, que sont leurs \u00e9difices aupr\u00e8s des palais et des ch\u00e2teaux\nroyaux de l\u2019Europe? Qu\u2019est-ce que leur commerce aupr\u00e8s du commerce\nuniversel de l\u2019Angleterre, de la Hollande, de la France et de\nl\u2019Espagne? Que sont leurs villes aupr\u00e8s des n\u00f4tres pour l\u2019opulence,\nla force, le faste des habits, le luxe des ameublements, la vari\u00e9t\u00e9\ninfinie? Que sont leurs ports parsem\u00e9s de quelques jonques et\nde quelques barques, compar\u00e9s \u00e0 notre navigation, \u00e0 nos flottes\nmarchandes, \u00e0 notre puissante et formidable marine? Notre cit\u00e9 de\nLondres fait plus de commerce que tout leur puissant Empire. Un\nvaisseau de guerre anglais, hollandais ou fran\u00e7ais, de quatre-vingts\ncanons, battrait et d\u00e9truirait toutes les forces navales des Chinois.\nLa grandeur de leur opulence et de leur commerce, la puissance de\nleur gouvernement, la force de leurs arm\u00e9es nous \u00e9merveillent parce\nque, je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, accoutum\u00e9s que nous sommes \u00e0 les consid\u00e9rer\ncomme une nation barbare de pa\u00efens et \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s comme des sauvages,\nnous ne nous attendons pas \u00e0 rencontrer rien de semblable chez eux,\net c\u2019est vraiment de l\u00e0 que vient le jour avantageux sous lequel nous\napparaissent leur splendeur et leur puissance: autrement, cela en\nsoi-m\u00eame n\u2019est rien du tout; car ce que j\u2019ai dit de leurs vaisseaux\npeut \u00eatre dit de leurs troupes et de leurs arm\u00e9es; toutes les forces\nde leur Empire, bien qu\u2019ils puissent mettre en campagne deux millions\nd\u2019hommes, ne seraient bonnes ni plus ni moins qu\u2019\u00e0 ruiner le pays et\n\u00e0 les r\u00e9duire eux-m\u00eames \u00e0 la famine. S\u2019ils avaient \u00e0 assi\u00e9ger une\nville forte de Flandre ou \u00e0 combattre une arm\u00e9e disciplin\u00e9e, une\nligne de cuirassiers allemands ou de gendarmes fran\u00e7ais culbuterait\ntoute leur cavalerie; un million de leurs fantassins ne pourraient\ntenir devant un corps de notre infanterie rang\u00e9 en bataille et post\u00e9\nde fa\u00e7on \u00e0 ne pouvoir \u00eatre envelopp\u00e9, fussent-ils vingt contre un:\nvoire m\u00eame, je n\u2019exag\u00e9rerais pas si je disais que trente mille hommes\nd\u2019infanterie allemande ou anglaise et dix mille chevaux fran\u00e7ais\nbrosseraient toutes les forces de la Chine. Il en est de m\u00eame de\nnotre fortification et de l\u2019art de nos ing\u00e9nieurs dans l\u2019attaque et\nla d\u00e9fense des villes: il n\u2019y a pas en Chine une place fortifi\u00e9e qui\np\u00fbt tenir un mois contre les batteries et les assauts d\u2019une arm\u00e9e\neurop\u00e9enne, tandis que toutes les arm\u00e9es des Chinois ne pourraient\nprendre une ville comme Dunkerque, \u00e0 moins que ce ne f\u00fbt par famine,\nl\u2019assi\u00e9geraient-elles dix ans. Ils ont des armes \u00e0 feu, il est vrai,\nmais elles sont lourdes et grossi\u00e8res et sujettes \u00e0 faire long feu;\nils ont de la poudre, mais elle n\u2019a point de force; enfin ils n\u2019ont\nni discipline sur le champ de bataille, ni tactique, ni habilet\u00e9 dans\nl\u2019attaque, ni mod\u00e9ration dans la retraite. Aussi j\u2019avoue que ce fut\nchose bien \u00e9trange pour moi, quand je revins en Angleterre, d\u2019entendre\nnos compatriotes d\u00e9biter de si belles bourdes sur la puissance, les\nrichesses, la gloire, la magnificence et le commerce des Chinois, qui\nne sont, je l\u2019ai vu, je le sais, qu\u2019un m\u00e9prisable troupeau d\u2019esclaves\nignorants et sordides assujettis \u00e0 un gouvernement bien digne de\ncommander \u00e0 un tel peuple; et en un mot, car je suis maintenant tout\n\u00e0 fait lanc\u00e9 hors de mon sujet, et en un mot, dis-je, si la Moscovie\nn\u2019\u00e9tait pas \u00e0 une si \u00e9norme distance, si l\u2019Empire moscovite n\u2019\u00e9tait\npas un ramassis d\u2019esclaves presque aussi grossiers, aussi faibles,\naussi mal gouvern\u00e9s que les Chinois eux-m\u00eames, le czar de Moscovie\npourrait tout \u00e0 son aise les chasser tous de leur contr\u00e9e et la\nsubjuguer dans une seule campagne. Si le czar, qui, \u00e0 ce que j\u2019entends\ndire, devient un grand prince et commence \u00e0 se montrer formidable\ndans le monde, se f\u00fbt jet\u00e9 de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 au lieu de s\u2019attaquer aux\nbelliqueux Su\u00e9dois,\u2014dans cette entreprise aucune des puissances de\nl\u2019Europe ne l\u2019e\u00fbt envi\u00e9 ou entrav\u00e9,\u2014il serait aujourd\u2019hui Empereur\nde la Chine au lieu d\u2019avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 battu par le roi de Su\u00e8de \u00e0 Narva,\no\u00f9 les Su\u00e9dois n\u2019\u00e9taient pas un contre six.\u2014De m\u00eame que les Chinois\nnous sont inf\u00e9rieurs en force, en magnificence, en navigation, en\ncommerce et en agriculture, de m\u00eame ils nous sont inf\u00e9rieurs en\nsavoir, en habilet\u00e9 dans les sciences: ils ont des globes et des\nsph\u00e8res et une teinture des math\u00e9matiques; mais vient-on \u00e0 examiner\nleurs connaissances... que les plus judicieux de leurs savants ont la\nvue courte! Ils ne savent rien du mouvement des corps c\u00e9lestes et sont\nsi grossi\u00e8rement et si absurdement ignorants, que, lorsque le soleil\ns\u2019\u00e9clipse, ils s\u2019imaginent qu\u2019il est assailli par un grand dragon qui\nveut l\u2019emporter, et ils se mettent \u00e0 faire un charivari avec tous les\ntambours et tous les chaudrons du pays pour \u00e9pouvanter et chasser le\nmonstre, juste comme nous faisons pour rappeler un essaim d\u2019abeilles.\nC\u2019est l\u00e0 l\u2019unique digression de ce genre que je me sois permise\ndans tout le r\u00e9cit que j\u2019ai donn\u00e9 de mes voyages; d\u00e9sormais je me\ngarderai de faire aucune description de contr\u00e9e et de peuple; ce\nn\u2019est pas mon affaire, ce n\u2019est pas de mon ressort: m\u2019attachant\nseulement \u00e0 la narration de mes propres aventures \u00e0 travers une\nvie ambulante et une longue s\u00e9rie de vicissitudes presque inou\u00efes,\nje ne parlerai des villes importantes, des contr\u00e9es d\u00e9sertes, des\nnombreuses nations que j\u2019ai encore \u00e0 traverser qu\u2019autant qu\u2019elles\nse lieront \u00e0 ma propre histoire et que mes relations avec elles le\nrendront n\u00e9cessaire.\u2014J\u2019\u00e9tais alors, selon mon calcul le plus exact,\ndans le c\u0153ur de la Chine, par 30 degr\u00e9s environ de latitude nord,\ncar nous \u00e9tions revenus de Nanking. J\u2019\u00e9tais toujours poss\u00e9d\u00e9 d\u2019une\ngrande envie de voir P\u00e9king, dont j\u2019avais tant ou\u00ef parler, et le P\u00e8re\nSimon m\u2019importunait chaque jour pour que je fisse cette excursion.\nEnfin l\u2019\u00e9poque de son d\u00e9part \u00e9tant fix\u00e9e, et l\u2019autre missionnaire qui\ndevait aller avec lui \u00e9tant arriv\u00e9 de Macao, il nous fallait prendre\nune d\u00e9termination. Je renvoyai le P\u00e8re Simon \u00e0 mon partner, m\u2019en\nr\u00e9f\u00e9rant tout \u00e0 fait \u00e0 son choix. Mon partner finit par se d\u00e9clarer\npour l\u2019affirmative, et nous f\u00eemes nos pr\u00e9paratifs de voyage. Nous\npart\u00eemes assez avantageusement sous un rapport, car nous obt\u00eenmes\nla permission de voyager \u00e0 la suite d\u2019un des mandarins du pays, une\nmani\u00e8re de vice-rois ou principaux magistrats de la province o\u00f9 ils\nr\u00e9sident, tranchant du grand, voyageant avec un grand cort\u00e8ge et force\ngrands hommages de la part du peuple, qui souvent est grandement\nappauvri par eux, car tous les pays qu\u2019ils traversent sont oblig\u00e9s de\nleur fournir des provisions \u00e0 eux et \u00e0 toute leur s\u00e9quelle. Une chose\nque je ne laissai pas de remarquer particuli\u00e8rement en cheminant\navec les bagages de celui-ci, c\u2019est que, bien que nous re\u00e7ussions des\nhabitants de suffisantes provisions pour nous et nos chevaux, comme\nappartenant au mandarin, nous \u00e9tions n\u00e9anmoins oblig\u00e9s de tout payer\nce que nous acceptions d\u2019apr\u00e8s le prix courant du lieu. L\u2019intendant ou\ncommissaire des vivres du mandarin nous soutirait tr\u00e8s ponctuellement\nce revenant-bon, de sorte que si voyager \u00e0 la suite du mandarin \u00e9tait\nune grande commodit\u00e9 pour nous, ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas une haute faveur de sa\npart, c\u2019\u00e9tait, tout au contraire, un grand profit pour lui, si l\u2019on\nconsid\u00e8re qu\u2019il y avait une trentaine de personnes chevauchant de la\nm\u00eame mani\u00e8re sous la protection de son cort\u00e8ge ou, comme nous dirions,\navec son convoi. C\u2019\u00e9tait, je le r\u00e9p\u00e8te, pour lui un b\u00e9n\u00e9fice tout\nclair: il nous prenait tout notre argent pour les vivres que le pays\nlui fournissait pour rien.\nPour gagner P\u00e9king, nous e\u00fbmes vingt-cinq jours de marche \u00e0 travers\nun pays extr\u00eamement populeux, mais mis\u00e9rablement cultiv\u00e9: quoiqu\u2019on\npr\u00e9conise tant l\u2019industrie de ce peuple, son agriculture, son \u00e9conomie\nrurale, sa mani\u00e8re de vivre, tout cela n\u2019est qu\u2019une piti\u00e9. Je dis\nune piti\u00e9, et cela est vraiment tel comparativement \u00e0 nous, et nous\nsemblerait ainsi \u00e0 nous qui entendons la vie, si nous \u00e9tions oblig\u00e9s\nde le subir; mais il n\u2019en est pas de m\u00eame pour ces pauvres diables qui\nne connaissent rien autre. L\u2019orgueil de ces sottes gens est \u00e9norme,\nil n\u2019est surpass\u00e9 que par leur pauvret\u00e9, et ne fait qu\u2019ajouter \u00e0\nce que j\u2019appelle leur mis\u00e8re. Il m\u2019est avis que les sauvages tout\nnus de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique vivent beaucoup plus heureux; s\u2019ils n\u2019ont rien,\nils ne d\u00e9sirent rien, tandis que ceux-ci, insolents et superbes, ne\nsont apr\u00e8s tout que des gueux et des valets; leur ostentation est\ninexprimable: elle se manifeste surtout dans leurs v\u00eatements, dans\nleurs demeures et dans la multitude de laquais et d\u2019esclaves qu\u2019ils\nentretiennent; mais ce qui met le comble \u00e0 leur ridicule, c\u2019est le\nm\u00e9pris qu\u2019ils professent pour tout l\u2019univers, except\u00e9 pour eux-m\u00eames.\nSinc\u00e8rement, je voyageai par la suite plus agr\u00e9ablement dans les\nd\u00e9serts et les vastes solitudes de la Grande-Tartarie que dans cette\nChine o\u00f9 cependant les routes sont bien pav\u00e9es, bien entretenues et\ntr\u00e8s commodes pour les voyageurs. Rien ne me r\u00e9voltait plus que de\nvoir ce peuple si hautain, si imp\u00e9rieux, si outrecuidant au sein de\nl\u2019imb\u00e9cillit\u00e9 et de l\u2019ignorance la plus crasse: car tout son fameux\ng\u00e9nie n\u2019est que \u00e7a et pas plus! Aussi mon ami le P\u00e8re Simon et moi\nne laissions-nous jamais \u00e9chapper l\u2019occasion de faire gorge chaude\nde leur orgueilleuse gueuserie.\u2014Un jour, approchant du manoir d\u2019un\ngentilhomme campagnard, comme l\u2019appelait le P\u00e8re Simon, \u00e0 environ dix\nlieues de la ville de Nanking, nous e\u00fbmes l\u2019honneur de chevaucher\npendant environ deux milles avec le ma\u00eetre de la maison, dont\nl\u2019\u00e9quipage \u00e9tait d\u2019un parfait don-quichottisme, un m\u00e9lange de pompe et\nde pauvret\u00e9.\nL\u2019habit de ce crasseux e\u00fbt merveilleusement fait l\u2019affaire d\u2019un\nScaramouche ou d\u2019un Fagotin: il \u00e9tait d\u2019un sale calicot surcharg\u00e9\nde tout le pimpant harnachement de la casaque d\u2019un fou; les manches\nen \u00e9taient pendantes, de tout c\u00f4t\u00e9 ce n\u2019\u00e9tait que satin, crev\u00e9s et\ntaillades. Il recouvrait une riche veste de taffetas aussi grasse\nque celle d\u2019un boucher, et qui t\u00e9moignait que son Honneur \u00e9tait un\nmalpropre de la plus haute envergure.\nSon cheval \u00e9tait une pauvre, maigre, affam\u00e9e et cagneuse cr\u00e9ature;\non pourrait avoir une pareille monture en Angleterre pour trente ou\nquarante schellings. Deux esclaves le suivaient \u00e0 pied pour faire\ntrotter le pauvre animal. Il avait un fouet \u00e0 la main et il rossait\nla b\u00eate aussi fort et ferme du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la t\u00eate que ses esclaves le\nfaisaient du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la queue, et ainsi il s\u2019en allait chevauchant\npr\u00e8s de nous avec environ dix ou douze valets; et on nous dit\nqu\u2019il se rendait \u00e0 son manoir \u00e0 une demi-lieue devant nous. Nous\ncheminions tout doucement, mais cette mani\u00e8re de gentilhomme prit le\ndevant, et comme nous nous arr\u00eat\u00e2mes une heure dans un village pour\nnous rafra\u00eechir, quand nous arriv\u00e2mes vers le castel de ce grand\npersonnage, nous le v\u00eemes install\u00e9 sur un petit emplacement devant\nsa porte et en train de prendre sa r\u00e9fection: au milieu de cette\nesp\u00e8ce de jardin, il \u00e9tait facile de l\u2019apercevoir, et on nous donna \u00e0\nentendre que plus nous le regarderions, plus il serait satisfait.\nIl \u00e9tait assis sous un arbre \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s semblable \u00e0 un palmier nain,\nqui \u00e9tendait son ombre au-dessus de sa t\u00eate, du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du midi; mais,\npar luxe, on avait plac\u00e9 sous l\u2019arbre un immense parasol qui ajoutait\nbeaucoup au coup d\u2019\u0153il. Il \u00e9tait \u00e9tal\u00e9 et renvers\u00e9 dans un vaste\nfauteuil, car c\u2019\u00e9tait un homme pesant et corpulent, et sa nourriture\nlui \u00e9tait apport\u00e9e par deux esclaves f\u00e9minines.\nOn en voyait deux autres, dont peu de gentilshommes europ\u00e9ens, je\npense, eussent agr\u00e9\u00e9 les services: la premi\u00e8re faisait manger notre\ngentill\u00e2tre avec une cuill\u00e8re; la seconde tenait un plat d\u2019une main,\net de l\u2019autre raclait ce qui tombait sur la barbe ou la veste de\ntaffetas de sa Seigneurie. Cette grosse et grasse brute croyait\nau-dessous d\u2019elle d\u2019employer ses propres mains \u00e0 toutes ces op\u00e9rations\nfamili\u00e8res que les rois et les monarques aiment mieux faire eux-m\u00eames\nplut\u00f4t que d\u2019\u00eatre touch\u00e9s par les doigts rustiques de leurs valets[37].\nA ce spectacle, je me pris \u00e0 penser aux tortures que la vanit\u00e9 pr\u00e9pare\naux hommes et combien un penchant orgueilleux ainsi mal dirig\u00e9 doit\n\u00eatre incommode pour un \u00eatre qui a du sens commun; puis, laissant ce\npauvre h\u00e8re se d\u00e9lecter \u00e0 l\u2019id\u00e9e que nous nous \u00e9bahissions devant sa\npompe, tandis que nous le regardions en piti\u00e9 et lui prodiguions le\nm\u00e9pris, nous poursuiv\u00eemes notre voyage; seulement le P\u00e8re Simon eut\nla curiosit\u00e9 de s\u2019arr\u00eater pour t\u00e2cher d\u2019apprendre quelles \u00e9taient les\nfriandises dont ce ch\u00e2telain se repaissait avec tant d\u2019apparat; il\neut l\u2019honneur d\u2019en go\u00fbter et nous dit que c\u2019\u00e9tait, je crois, un mets\ndont un dogue anglais voudrait \u00e0 peine manger, si on le lui offrait,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire un plat de riz bouilli, rehauss\u00e9 d\u2019une grosse gousse\nd\u2019ail, d\u2019un sachet rempli de poivre vert et d\u2019une autre plante \u00e0 peu\npr\u00e8s semblable \u00e0 notre gingembre, mais qui a l\u2019odeur du musc et la\nsaveur de la moutarde; le tout mis ensemble et mijot\u00e9 avec un petit\nmorceau de mouton maigre. Voil\u00e0 quel \u00e9tait le festin de sa Seigneurie,\ndont quatre ou cinq autres domestiques attendaient les ordres \u00e0\nquelque distance. S\u2019il les nourrissait moins somptueusement qu\u2019il se\nnourrissait lui-m\u00eame, si, par exemple, on leur retranchait les \u00e9pices,\nils devaient faire maigre ch\u00e8re en v\u00e9rit\u00e9.\nQuant \u00e0 notre mandarin avec qui nous voyagions, respect\u00e9 comme un roi,\nil \u00e9tait toujours environn\u00e9 de ses gentilshommes, et entour\u00e9 d\u2019une\ntelle pompe que je ne pus gu\u00e8re l\u2019entrevoir que de loin; je remarquai\ntoutefois qu\u2019entre tous les chevaux de son cort\u00e8ge il n\u2019y en avait pas\nun seul qui par\u00fbt valoir les b\u00eates de somme de nos voituriers anglais;\nils \u00e9taient si charg\u00e9s de housses, de capara\u00e7ons, de harnais et autres\nsemblables friperies, que vous n\u2019auriez pu voir s\u2019ils \u00e9taient gras ou\nmaigres: on apercevait \u00e0 peine le bout de leur t\u00eate et de leurs pieds.\nJ\u2019avais alors le c\u0153ur gai; d\u00e9barrass\u00e9 du trouble et de la perplexit\u00e9\ndont j\u2019ai fait la peinture, et ne nourrissant plus d\u2019id\u00e9es rongeantes,\nce voyage me sembla on ne peut plus agr\u00e9able. Je n\u2019y essuyai\nd\u2019ailleurs aucun f\u00e2cheux accident; seulement, en passant \u00e0 gu\u00e9 une\npetite rivi\u00e8re, mon cheval broncha et me d\u00e9sar\u00e7onna, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\nqu\u2019il me jeta dedans: l\u2019endroit n\u2019\u00e9tait pas profond, mais je fus\ntremp\u00e9 jusqu\u2019aux os. Je ne fais mention de cela que parce que ce\nfut alors que se g\u00e2ta mon livre de poche, o\u00f9 j\u2019avais couch\u00e9 les\nnoms de plusieurs peuples et de diff\u00e9rents lieux dont je voulais\nme ressouvenir. N\u2019en ayant pas pris tout le soin n\u00e9cessaire, les\nfeuillets se moisirent, et par la suite il me fut impossible de\nd\u00e9chiffrer un seul mot, \u00e0 mon grand regret, surtout quant aux noms de\nquelques places auxquelles je touchai dans ce voyage.\nEnfin nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 P\u00e9king.\u2014Je n\u2019avais avec moi que le jeune\nhomme que mon neveu le capitaine avait attach\u00e9 \u00e0 ma personne comme\ndomestique, lequel se montra tr\u00e8s fid\u00e8le et tr\u00e8s diligent; mon partner\nn\u2019avait non plus qu\u2019un compagnon, un de ses parents. Quant au pilote\nportugais, ayant d\u00e9sir\u00e9 voir la Cour, nous lui avions donn\u00e9 son\npassage, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire que nous l\u2019avions d\u00e9fray\u00e9 pour l\u2019agr\u00e9ment de sa\ncompagnie et pour qu\u2019il nous serv\u00eet d\u2019interpr\u00e8te, car il entendait la\nlangue du pays, parlait bien fran\u00e7ais et quelque peu anglais: vraiment\nce bonhomme nous fut partout on ne peut plus utile. Il y avait \u00e0\npeine une semaine que nous \u00e9tions \u00e0 P\u00e9king, quand il vint me trouver\nen riant:\u2014\u00abAh! senhor Inglez, me dit-il, j\u2019ai quelque chose \u00e0 vous\ndire qui vous mettra la joie au c\u0153ur.\u00bb\u2014\u00abLa joie au c\u0153ur! dis-je, que\nserait-ce donc? Je ne sache rien dans ce pays qui puisse m\u2019apporter\nni grande joie ni grand chagrin.\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, oui, dit le vieil homme en\nmauvais anglais, faire vous content, et moi f\u00e2cheux.\u00bb\u2014C\u2019est f\u00e2ch\u00e9\nqu\u2019il voulait dire. Ceci piqua ma curiosit\u00e9.\u2014\u00abPourquoi, repris-je,\ncela vous f\u00e2cherait-il?\u00bb\u2014\u00abParce que, r\u00e9pondit-il, m\u2019ayant amen\u00e9 ici,\napr\u00e8s un voyage de vingt-cinq jours, vous me laisserez m\u2019en retourner\nseul. Et comment ferai-je pour regagner mon port sans vaisseau, sans\ncheval, sans p\u00e9cune?\u00bb C\u2019est ainsi qu\u2019il nommait l\u2019argent dans un latin\ncorrompu qu\u2019il avait en provision pour notre plus grande hilarit\u00e9.\nBref, il nous dit qu\u2019il y avait dans la ville une grande caravane de\nmarchands moscovites et polonais qui se disposaient \u00e0 retourner par\nterre en Moscovie dans quatre ou cinq semaines, et que s\u00fbrement nous\nsaisirions l\u2019occasion de partir avec eux et le laisserions derri\u00e8re\ns\u2019en revenir tout seul. J\u2019avoue que cette nouvelle me surprit: une\njoie secr\u00e8te se r\u00e9pandit dans toute mon \u00e2me, une joie que je ne puis\nd\u00e9crire, que je ne ressentis jamais ni auparavant ni depuis. Il me fut\nimpossible pendant quelque temps de r\u00e9pondre un seul mot au bonhomme;\n\u00e0 la fin pourtant, me tournant vers lui:\u2014\u00abComment savez-vous cela?\nfis-je, \u00eates-vous s\u00fbr que ce soit vrai?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui-da, reprit-il; j\u2019ai\nrencontr\u00e9 ce matin, dans la rue, une de mes vieilles connaissances,\nun Arm\u00e9nien, ou, comme vous dites vous autres, un Grec, qui se trouve\navec eux; il est arriv\u00e9 derni\u00e8rement d\u2019Astracan et se proposait\nd\u2019aller au Ton-Kin, o\u00f9 je l\u2019ai connu autrefois; mais il a chang\u00e9\nd\u2019avis, et maintenant il est d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 retourner \u00e0 Moscou avec la\ncaravane, puis \u00e0 descendre le Volga jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Astracan.\u00bb\u2014\u00abEh bien!\nsenhor, soyez sans inqui\u00e9tude quant \u00e0 \u00eatre laiss\u00e9 seul ici: si c\u2019est\nun moyen pour moi de retourner en Angleterre, ce sera votre faute\nsi vous remettez jamais le pied \u00e0 Macao.\u00bb J\u2019allai alors consulter\nmon partner sur ce qu\u2019il y avait \u00e0 faire, et je lui demandai ce\nqu\u2019il pensait de la nouvelle du pilote et si elle contrarierait ses\nintentions: il me dit qu\u2019il souscrivait d\u2019avance \u00e0 tout ce que je\nvoudrais; car il avait si bien \u00e9tabli ses affaires au Bengale et\nlaiss\u00e9 ses effets en si bonnes mains, que, s\u2019il pouvait convertir\nl\u2019exp\u00e9dition fructueuse que nous venions de r\u00e9aliser en soies de\nChine \u00e9crues et ouvr\u00e9es qui valussent la peine d\u2019\u00eatre transport\u00e9es,\nil serait tr\u00e8s content d\u2019aller en Angleterre, d\u2019o\u00f9 il repasserait au\nBengale par les navires de la Compagnie.\nCette d\u00e9termination prise, nous conv\u00eenmes que, si notre vieux pilote\nportugais voulait nous suivre, nous le d\u00e9fraierions jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Moscou ou\njusqu\u2019en Angleterre, comme il lui plairait. Certes nous n\u2019eussions\npoint pass\u00e9 pour g\u00e9n\u00e9reux si nous ne l\u2019eussions pas r\u00e9compens\u00e9\ndavantage; les services qu\u2019il nous avait rendus valaient bien cela\net au del\u00e0: il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 non seulement notre pilote en mer, mais\nencore pour ainsi dire notre courtier \u00e0 terre; et en nous procurant le\nn\u00e9gociant japonais il avait mis quelques centaines de livres sterling\ndans nos poches. Nous devis\u00e2mes donc ensemble l\u00e0-dessus, et d\u00e9sireux\nde le gratifier, ce qui, apr\u00e8s tout, n\u2019\u00e9tait que lui faire justice, et\nsouhaitant d\u2019ailleurs de le conserver avec nous, car c\u2019\u00e9tait un homme\npr\u00e9cieux en toute occasion, nous conv\u00eenmes que nous lui donnerions \u00e0\nnous deux une somme en or monnay\u00e9, qui, d\u2019apr\u00e8s mon calcul, pouvait\nmonter \u00e0 175 livres sterling, et que nous prendrions ses d\u00e9penses pour\nnotre compte, les siennes et celles de son cheval, ne laissant \u00e0 sa\ncharge que la b\u00eate de somme qui transporterait ses effets.\nAyant arr\u00eat\u00e9 ceci entre nous, nous mand\u00e2mes le vieux pilote pour lui\nfaire savoir ce que nous avions r\u00e9solu.\u2014\u00abVous vous \u00eates plaint, lui\ndis-je, d\u2019\u00eatre menac\u00e9 de vous en retourner tout seul; j\u2019ai maintenant\n\u00e0 vous annoncer que vous ne vous en retournerez pas du tout. Comme\nnous avons pris le parti d\u2019aller en Europe avec la caravane, nous\nvoulons vous emmener avec nous, et nous vous avons fait appeler pour\nconna\u00eetre votre volont\u00e9.\u00bb\u2014Le bonhomme hocha la t\u00eate et dit que c\u2019\u00e9tait\nun long voyage; qu\u2019il n\u2019avait point de p\u00e9cune pour l\u2019entreprendre,\nni pour subsister quand il serait arriv\u00e9.\u2014\u00abNous ne l\u2019ignorons pas,\nlui d\u00eemes-nous, et c\u2019est pourquoi nous sommes dans l\u2019intention de\nfaire quelque chose pour vous qui vous montrera combien nous sommes\nsensibles au bon office que vous nous avez rendu, et combien aussi\nvotre compagnie nous est agr\u00e9able.\u00bb\u2014Je lui d\u00e9clarai alors que nous\n\u00e9tions convenus de lui donner pr\u00e9sentement une certaine somme,\nqu\u2019il pourrait employer de la m\u00eame mani\u00e8re que nous emploierions\nnotre avoir, et que, pour ce qui \u00e9tait de ses d\u00e9penses, s\u2019il venait\navec nous, nous voulions le d\u00e9poser \u00e0 bon port,\u2014sauf mort ou\naccidents,\u2014soit en Moscovie, soit en Angleterre, et cela \u00e0 notre\ncharge, le transport de ses marchandises except\u00e9.\nIl re\u00e7ut cette proposition avec transport, et protesta qu\u2019il\nnous suivrait au bout du monde; nous nous m\u00eemes donc \u00e0 faire nos\npr\u00e9paratifs de voyage. Toutefois il en fut de nous comme des autres\nmarchands: nous e\u00fbmes tous beaucoup de choses \u00e0 terminer, et au lieu\nd\u2019\u00eatre pr\u00eats en cinq semaines, avant que tout f\u00fbt arrang\u00e9, quatre mois\net quelques jours s\u2019\u00e9coul\u00e8rent.\nCe ne fut qu\u2019au commencement de f\u00e9vrier que nous quitt\u00e2mes P\u00e9king.\u2014Mon\npartner et le vieux pilote se rendirent au port o\u00f9 nous avions\nd\u2019abord d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 pour disposer de quelques marchandises que nous y\navions laiss\u00e9es, et moi avec un marchand chinois que j\u2019avais connu \u00e0\nNanking, et qui \u00e9tait venu \u00e0 P\u00e9king pour ses affaires, je m\u2019en allai\ndans la premi\u00e8re de ces deux villes, o\u00f9 j\u2019achetai quatre-vingt-dix\npi\u00e8ces de beau damas avec environ deux cents pi\u00e8ces d\u2019autres belles\n\u00e9toffes de soie de diff\u00e9rentes sortes, quelques-unes broch\u00e9es d\u2019or:\ntoutes ces acquisitions \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 rendues \u00e0 P\u00e9king au retour de\nmon partner. En outre, nous achet\u00e2mes une partie consid\u00e9rable de\nsoie \u00e9crue et plusieurs autres articles: notre pacotille s\u2019\u00e9levait,\nrien qu\u2019en ces marchandises, \u00e0 3.500 livres sterling, et avec du\nth\u00e9, quelques belles toiles peintes, et trois charges de chameaux en\nnoix muscades et clous de girofle, elle chargeait, pour notre part,\ndix-huit chameaux non compris ceux que nous devions monter, ce qui,\navec deux ou trois chevaux de main et deux autres chevaux charg\u00e9s\nde provisions, portait en somme notre suite \u00e0 vingt-six chameaux ou\nchevaux.\nLa caravane \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s nombreuse, et, autant que je puis me le\nrappeler, se composait de trois ou quatre cents chevaux et chameaux\net de plus de cent vingt hommes tr\u00e8s bien arm\u00e9s et pr\u00e9par\u00e9s \u00e0 tout\n\u00e9v\u00e9nement; car, si les caravanes orientales sont sujettes \u00e0 \u00eatre\nattaqu\u00e9es par les Arabes, celles-ci sont sujettes \u00e0 l\u2019\u00eatre par les\nTartares, qui ne sont pas, \u00e0 vrai dire, tout \u00e0 fait aussi dangereux\nque les Arabes, ni si barbares quand ils ont le dessus.\nNotre compagnie se composait de gens de diff\u00e9rentes nations,\nprincipalement de Moscovites; il y avait bien une soixantaine de\nn\u00e9gociants ou habitants de Moscou, parmi lesquels se trouvaient\nquelques Livoniens, et, \u00e0 notre satisfaction toute particuli\u00e8re, cinq\n\u00c9cossais, hommes de poids et qui paraissaient tr\u00e8s vers\u00e9s dans la\nscience des affaires.\nApr\u00e8s une journ\u00e9e de marche, nos guides, qui \u00e9taient au nombre de\ncinq, appel\u00e8rent tous les gentlemen et les marchands, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\ntous les voyageurs, except\u00e9 les domestiques, pour tenir, disaient-ils,\nun _grand conseil_. A ce grand conseil chacun d\u00e9posa une certaine\nsomme \u00e0 la masse commune pour payer le fourrage qu\u2019on ach\u00e8terait en\nroute, lorsqu\u2019on ne pourrait en avoir autrement, pour les \u00e9moluments\ndes guides, pour les chevaux de louage et autres choses semblables.\nEnsuite ils constitu\u00e8rent le voyage, selon leur expression,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire qu\u2019ils nomm\u00e8rent des capitaines et des officiers pour\nnous diriger et nous commander en cas d\u2019attaque, et assign\u00e8rent \u00e0\nchacun son tour de commandement. L\u2019\u00e9tablissement de cet ordre parmi\nnous ne fut rien moins qu\u2019inutile le long du chemin, comme on le verra\nen son lieu.\nLa route, de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9-l\u00e0 du pays, est tr\u00e8s peupl\u00e9e: elle est pleine de\npotiers et de modeleurs, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire d\u2019artisans qui travaillent la\nterre \u00e0 porcelaine, et comme nous cheminions, notre pilote portugais,\nqui avait toujours quelque chose \u00e0 nous dire pour nous \u00e9gayer, vint\n\u00e0 moi en ricanant et me dit qu\u2019il voulait me montrer la plus grande\nraret\u00e9 de tout le pays, afin que j\u2019eusse \u00e0 dire de la Chine, apr\u00e8s\ntoutes les choses d\u00e9favorables que j\u2019en avais dites, que j\u2019y avais\nvu une chose qu\u2019on ne saurait voir dans tout le reste de l\u2019univers.\nIntrigu\u00e9 au plus haut point, je grillais de savoir ce que ce pouvait\n\u00eatre; \u00e0 la fin il me dit que c\u2019\u00e9tait une maison de plaisance, toute\nb\u00e2tie en marchandises de Chine (_China ware_).\u2014\u00abJ\u2019y suis, lui dis-je,\nles mat\u00e9riaux dont elle est construite sont tous la production du\npays? Et ainsi elle est toute en _China ware_, n\u2019est-ce pas?\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon,\nnon, r\u00e9pondit-il, j\u2019entends que c\u2019est une maison enti\u00e8rement de _China\nware_, comme vous dites en Angleterre, ou de _porcelaine_, comme on\ndit dans notre pays.\u00bb\u2014\u00abSoit, repris-je, cela est tr\u00e8s possible. Mais\ncomment est-elle grosse? Pourrions-nous la transporter dans une caisse\nsur un chameau? Si cela se peut, nous l\u2019ach\u00e8terons.\u00bb\u2014\u00abSur un chameau!\ns\u2019\u00e9cria le vieux pilote levant ses deux mains jointes, peste! une\nfamille de trente personnes y loge.\u00bb\nJe fus alors vraiment curieux de la voir, et quand nous arriv\u00e2mes\naupr\u00e8s je trouvai tout bonnement une maison de charpente, une maison\nb\u00e2tie, comme on dit en Angleterre, avec latte et pl\u00e2tre, mais dont\ntous les cr\u00e9pis \u00e9taient r\u00e9ellement de _China ware_, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire\nqu\u2019elle \u00e9tait enduite de terre \u00e0 porcelaine.\nL\u2019ext\u00e9rieur, sur lequel dardait le soleil, \u00e9tait verniss\u00e9, d\u2019un bel\naspect, parfaitement blanc, peint de figures bleues, comme le sont\nles grands vases de Chine qu\u2019on voit en Angleterre, et aussi dur\nque s\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 cuit. Quant \u00e0 l\u2019int\u00e9rieur, toutes les murailles au\nlieu de boiseries \u00e9taient rev\u00eatues de tuiles durcies et \u00e9maill\u00e9es,\ncomme les petits carreaux qu\u2019on nomme en Angleterre _gally tiles_,\net toutes faites de la plus belle porcelaine, d\u00e9cor\u00e9e de figures\nd\u00e9licieuses d\u2019une vari\u00e9t\u00e9 infinie de couleurs, m\u00e9lang\u00e9es d\u2019or. Une\nseule figure occupait plusieurs de ces carreaux; mais avec un mastic\nfait de m\u00eame terre on les avait si habilement assembl\u00e9s qu\u2019il n\u2019\u00e9tait\ngu\u00e8re possible de voir o\u00f9 \u00e9taient les joints. Le pav\u00e9 des salles \u00e9tait\nde la m\u00eame mati\u00e8re, et aussi solide que les aires de terre cuite\nen usage dans plusieurs parties de l\u2019Angleterre, notamment dans le\nLincolnshire, le Nottinghamshire et le Leicestershire; il \u00e9tait dur\ncomme une pierre, et uni, mais non pas \u00e9maill\u00e9 et peint, si ce n\u2019est\ndans quelques petites pi\u00e8ces ou cabinets, dont le sol \u00e9tait rev\u00eatu\ncomme les parois. Les plafonds, en un mot tous les endroits de la\nmaison \u00e9taient faits de m\u00eame terre; enfin le toit \u00e9tait couvert de\ntuiles semblables, mais d\u2019un noir fonc\u00e9 et \u00e9clatant.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait vraiment \u00e0 la lettre un magasin de porcelaine, on pouvait\n\u00e0 bon droit le nommer ainsi, et, si je n\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 en marche, je\nme serais arr\u00eat\u00e9 l\u00e0 plusieurs jours pour l\u2019examiner dans tous ses\nd\u00e9tails. On me dit que dans le jardin il y avait des fontaines et\ndes viviers dont le fond et les bords \u00e9taient pav\u00e9s pareillement, et\nle long des all\u00e9es de belles statues enti\u00e8rement faites en terre \u00e0\nporcelaine, et cuites toutes d\u2019une pi\u00e8ce.\nC\u2019est l\u00e0 une des singularit\u00e9s de la Chine, on peut accorder aux\nChinois qu\u2019ils excellent en ce genre; mais j\u2019ai la certitude qu\u2019ils\nn\u2019excellent pas moins dans les contes qu\u2019ils font \u00e0 ce sujet, car ils\nm\u2019ont dit de si incroyables choses de leur habilet\u00e9 en poterie, des\nchoses telles que je ne me soucie gu\u00e8re de les rapporter, dans la\nconviction o\u00f9 je suis qu\u2019elles sont fausses. Un h\u00e2bleur me parla entre\nautres d\u2019un ouvrier qui avait fait en fa\u00efence un navire, avec tous ses\napparaux, ses m\u00e2ts et ses voiles, assez grand pour contenir cinquante\nhommes. S\u2019il avait ajout\u00e9 qu\u2019il l\u2019avait lanc\u00e9, et que sur ce navire\nil avait fait un voyage au Japon, j\u2019aurais pu dire quelque chose,\nmais comme je savais ce que valait cette histoire, et, passez-moi\nl\u2019expression, que le camarade mentait, je souris et gardai le silence.\nCet \u00e9trange spectacle me retint pendant deux heures derri\u00e8re la\ncaravane; aussi celui qui commandait ce jour-l\u00e0 me condamna-t-il \u00e0\nune amende d\u2019environ trois schellings et me d\u00e9clara-t-il que si c\u2019e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 trois journ\u00e9es en dehors de la muraille, comme c\u2019\u00e9tait \u00e0 trois\njourn\u00e9es en dedans, il m\u2019en aurait co\u00fbt\u00e9 quatre fois autant et qu\u2019il\nm\u2019aurait oblig\u00e9 \u00e0 demander pardon au premier jour de Conseil. Je\npromis donc d\u2019\u00eatre plus exact, et je ne tardai pas \u00e0 reconna\u00eetra que\nl\u2019ordre de se tenir tous ensemble \u00e9tait d\u2019une n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 absolue pour\nnotre commune s\u00fbret\u00e9.\nDeux jours apr\u00e8s nous pass\u00e2mes la grande muraille de la Chine,\nboulevard \u00e9lev\u00e9 contre les Tartares, ouvrage immense, dont la cha\u00eene\nsans fin s\u2019\u00e9tend jusque sur des collines et des montagnes, o\u00f9 les\nrochers sont infranchissables, et les pr\u00e9cipices tels qu\u2019il n\u2019est\npas d\u2019ennemis qui puissent y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer, qui puissent y atteindre, ou,\ns\u2019il en est, quelle muraille pourrait les arr\u00eater! Son \u00e9tendue, nous\ndit-on, est d\u2019\u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s un millier de milles d\u2019Angleterre, mais\nla contr\u00e9e qu\u2019elle couvre n\u2019en a que cinq cents, mesur\u00e9e en droite\nligne, sans avoir \u00e9gard aux tours et retours qu\u2019elle fait. Elle a\nenviron quatre toises ou \u00abfathoms\u00bb de hauteur et autant d\u2019\u00e9paisseur en\nquelques, endroits.\nL\u00e0, au pied de cette muraille, je m\u2019arr\u00eatai une heure ou environ\nsans enfreindre nos r\u00e8glements, car la caravane mit tout ce temps \u00e0\nd\u00e9filer par un guichet; je m\u2019arr\u00eatai une heure, dis-je, \u00e0 la regarder\nde chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9, de pr\u00e8s et de loin, du moins \u00e0 regarder ce qui \u00e9tait\n\u00e0 la port\u00e9e de ma vue; et le guide de notre caravane qui l\u2019avait\nexalt\u00e9e comme la merveille du monde, manifesta le vif d\u00e9sir de savoir\nce que j\u2019en pensais. Je lui dis que c\u2019\u00e9tait une excellente chose\ncontre les Tartares. Il arriva qu\u2019il n\u2019entendit pas \u00e7a comme je\nl\u2019entendais, et qu\u2019il le prit pour un compliment; mais le vieux pilote\nsourit:\u2014\u00abOh! senhor Inglez, dit-il, vous parlez de deux couleurs.\u00bb\u2014\u00abDe\ndeux couleurs! r\u00e9p\u00e9tai-je; qu\u2019entendez-vous par l\u00e0?\u00bb\u2014\u00abJ\u2019entends que\nvotre r\u00e9ponse para\u00eet blanche d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9 et noire de l\u2019autre, gaie par\nl\u00e0 et sombre par ici. Vous lui dites que c\u2019est une bonne muraille\ncontre les Tartares: cela signifie pour moi qu\u2019elle n\u2019est bonne \u00e0\nrien, sinon contre les Tartares, ou qu\u2019elle ne d\u00e9fendrait pas de tout\nautre ennemi. Je vous comprends, senhor Inglez, je vous comprends,\nr\u00e9p\u00e9tait-il en se gaussant; mais monsieur le Chinois vous comprend\naussi de son c\u00f4t\u00e9.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abEh bien, senhor, repris-je, pensez-vous que cette muraille\narr\u00eaterait une arm\u00e9e de gens de notre pays avec un bon train\nd\u2019artillerie, ou nos ing\u00e9nieurs avec deux compagnies de mineurs? En\nmoins de dix jours n\u2019y feraient-ils pas une br\u00e8che assez grande pour\nqu\u2019une arm\u00e9e y p\u00fbt passer en front de bataille, ou ne la feraient-ils\npas sauter, fondation et tout, de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 n\u2019en pas laisser une\ntrace?\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui, oui, s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il, je sais tout cela.\u00bb\u2014Le Chinois\nbr\u00fblait de conna\u00eetre ce que j\u2019avais dit: je permis au vieux pilote de\nle lui r\u00e9p\u00e9ter quelques jours apr\u00e8s; nous \u00e9tions alors presque sortis\ndu territoire, et ce guide devait nous quitter bient\u00f4t; mais quand\nil sut ce que j\u2019avais dit, il devint muet tout le reste du chemin,\net nous sevra de ses belles histoires sur le pouvoir et sur la\nmagnificence des Chinois.\nApr\u00e8s avoir pass\u00e9 ce puissant rien, appel\u00e9 muraille, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\nsemblable \u00e0 la muraille des Pictes, si fameuse dans le Northumberland\net b\u00e2tie par les Romains, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 trouver le pays clairsem\u00e9\nd\u2019habitants ou plut\u00f4t les habitants confin\u00e9s dans des villes et\ndes places fortes, \u00e0 cause des incursions et des d\u00e9pr\u00e9dations des\nTartares, qui exercent le brigandage en grand, et auxquels ne\npourraient r\u00e9sister les habitants sans armes d\u2019une contr\u00e9e ouverte.\nJe sentis bient\u00f4t la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de nous tenir tous ensemble en\ncaravane, chemin faisant; car nous ne tard\u00e2mes pas \u00e2 voir r\u00f4der autour\nde nous plusieurs troupes de Tartares. Quand je vins \u00e0 les apercevoir\ndistinctement, je m\u2019\u00e9tonnai que l\u2019Empire chinois ait pu \u00eatre conquis\npar de si mis\u00e9rables dr\u00f4les: ce ne sont que de vraies hordes, de vrais\ntroupeaux de sauvages, sans ordre, sans discipline et sans tactique\ndans le combat.\nLeurs chevaux, pauvres b\u00eates maigres, affam\u00e9es et mal dress\u00e9es, ne\nsont bons \u00e0 rien; nous le remarqu\u00e2mes d\u00e8s le premier jour que nous\nles v\u00eemes, ce qui eut lieu aussit\u00f4t que nous e\u00fbmes p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 dans la\npartie d\u00e9serte du pays; car alors notre commandant du jour donna la\npermission \u00e0 seize d\u2019entre nous d\u2019aller \u00e0 ce qu\u2019ils appelaient une\nchasse. Ce n\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019une chasse au mouton, cependant cela pouvait \u00e0\nbon droit se nommer chasse; car ces moutons sont les plus sauvages et\nles plus rapides que j\u2019aie jamais vus: seulement ils ne courent pas\nlongtemps; aussi \u00eates-vous s\u00fbr de votre affaire quand vous vous mettez\n\u00e0 leurs trousses. Ils se montrent g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement en troupeaux de trente\nou quarante; et, comme de vrais moutons, ils se tiennent toujours\nensemble quand ils fuient.\nDurant cette \u00e9trange esp\u00e8ce de chasse, le hasard voulut que nous\nrencontr\u00e2mes une quarantaine de Tartares. Chassaient-ils le mouton\ncomme nous ou cherchaient-ils quelque autre proie, je ne sais; mais,\naussit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils nous virent, l\u2019un d\u2019entre eux se mit \u00e0 souffler tr\u00e8s\nfort dans une trompe, et il en sortit un son barbare que je n\u2019avais\njamais ou\u00ef auparavant, et que, soit dit en passant, je ne me souciais\npas d\u2019entendre une seconde fois. Nous suppos\u00e2mes que c\u2019\u00e9tait pour\nappeler \u00e0 eux leurs amis; et nous pens\u00e2mes vrai, car en moins d\u2019un\ndemi-quart d\u2019heure une autre troupe de quarante ou cinquante parut\n\u00e0 un mille de distance; mais la besogne \u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 faite, et voici\ncomment:\n[Illustration: Aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils nous virent, l\u2019un d\u2019entre eux se mit \u00e0\nsouffler tr\u00e8s fort dans une trompe...]\nUn des marchands \u00e9cossais de Moscou se trouvait par hasard avec nous:\naussit\u00f4t qu\u2019il entendit leur trompe, il nous dit que nous n\u2019avions\nrien \u00e0 faire qu\u2019\u00e0 les charger imm\u00e9diatement, en toute h\u00e2te; et,\nnous rangeant tous en ligne, il nous demanda si nous \u00e9tions bien\nd\u00e9termin\u00e9s. Nous lui r\u00e9pond\u00eemes que nous \u00e9tions pr\u00eats \u00e0 le suivre:\nsur ce, il courut droit \u00e0 eux. Nous regardant fixement, les Tartares\ns\u2019\u00e9taient arr\u00eat\u00e9s tous en troupeau, p\u00eale-m\u00eale et sans aucune esp\u00e8ce\nd\u2019ordre; mais sit\u00f4t qu\u2019ils nous virent avancer, ils d\u00e9coch\u00e8rent\nleurs fl\u00e8ches, qui ne nous atteignirent point, fort heureusement.\nIls s\u2019\u00e9taient tromp\u00e9s vraisemblablement non sur le but, mais sur la\ndistance, car toutes leurs fl\u00e8ches tomb\u00e8rent pr\u00e8s de nous, si bien\najust\u00e9es, que si nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 environ \u00e0 vingt verges plus pr\u00e8s,\nnous aurions eu plusieurs hommes tu\u00e9s ou bless\u00e9s.\nNous f\u00eemes sur-le-champ halte, et, malgr\u00e9 l\u2019\u00e9loignement, nous tir\u00e2mes\nsur eux et leur envoy\u00e2mes des balles de plomb pour leurs fl\u00e8ches de\nbois; puis, au grand galop, nous suiv\u00eemes notre d\u00e9charge, d\u00e9termin\u00e9s\n\u00e0 tomber dessus sabre en main, selon les ordres du hardi Ecossais qui\nnous commandait. Ce n\u2019\u00e9tait, il est vrai, qu\u2019un marchand; mais il se\nconduisit dans cette occasion avec tant de vigueur et de bravoure, et\nen m\u00eame temps avec un si courageux sang-froid, que je ne sache pas\navoir jamais vu dans l\u2019action un homme plus propre au commandement.\nAussit\u00f4t que nous les joign\u00eemes, nous leur d\u00e9charge\u00e2mes nos pistolets\n\u00e0 la face et nous d\u00e9gain\u00e2mes; mais ils s\u2019enfuirent dans la plus grande\nconfusion imaginable. Le choc fut seulement soutenu sur notre droite,\no\u00f9 trois d\u2019entre eux r\u00e9sist\u00e8rent, en faisant signe aux autres de se\nrallier \u00e0 eux: ceux-l\u00e0 avaient des esp\u00e8ces de grands cimeterres au\npoing et leurs arcs pendus sur le dos. Notre brave commandant, sans\nenjoindre \u00e0 personne de le suivre, fondit sur eux au galop; d\u2019un coup\nde crosse le premier fut renvers\u00e9 de son cheval, le second fut tu\u00e9\nd\u2019un coup de pistolet, le troisi\u00e8me prit la fuite. Ainsi finit notre\ncombat, o\u00f9 nous e\u00fbmes l\u2019infortune de perdre tous les moutons que nous\navions attrap\u00e9s. Pas un seul de nos combattants ne fut tu\u00e9 ou bless\u00e9;\nmais, du c\u00f4t\u00e9 des Tartares, cinq hommes rest\u00e8rent sur la place. Quel\nfut le nombre de leurs bless\u00e9s? nous ne p\u00fbmes le savoir; mais, chose\ncertaine, c\u2019est que l\u2019autre bande fut si effray\u00e9e du bruit de nos\narmes, qu\u2019elle s\u2019enfuit sans faire aucune tentative contre nous.\n[Illustration: Le second fut tu\u00e9 d\u2019un coup de pistolet.]\nNous \u00e9tions, lors de cette affaire, sur le territoire chinois: c\u2019est\npourquoi les Tartares ne se montr\u00e8rent pas tr\u00e8s hardis; mais au bout\nde cinq jours nous entr\u00e2mes dans un vaste et sauvage d\u00e9sert qui nous\nretint trois jours et trois nuits. Nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de porter notre\neau avec nous dans de grandes outres, et de camper chaque nuit, comme\nj\u2019ai ou\u00ef dire qu\u2019on le fait dans les d\u00e9serts de l\u2019Arabie.\nJe demandai \u00e0 nos guides \u00e0 qui appartenait ce pays-l\u00e0. Ils me dirent\nque c\u2019\u00e9tait une sorte de fronti\u00e8re qu\u2019\u00e0 bon droit on pourrait nommer\n_No Man\u2019s Land_ (la Terre de Personne), faisant partie du grand\nKarakathay ou grande Tartarie, et d\u00e9pendant en m\u00eame temps de la Chine;\net que, comme on ne prenait aucun soin de pr\u00e9server ce d\u00e9sert des\nincursions des brigands, il \u00e9tait r\u00e9put\u00e9 le plus dangereux de la\nroute, quoique nous en eussions de beaucoup plus \u00e9tendus \u00e0 traverser.\nEn passant par ce d\u00e9sert qui, de prime abord, je l\u2019avoue, me remplit\nd\u2019effroi, nous v\u00eemes deux ou trois fois de petites troupes de\nTartares; mais ils semblaient tout entiers \u00e0 leurs propres affaires\net ne paraissaient m\u00e9diter aucun dessein contre nous; et, comme\nl\u2019homme qui rencontra le diable, nous pens\u00e2mes que s\u2019ils n\u2019avaient\nrien \u00e0 nous dire, nous n\u2019avions rien non plus \u00e0 leur dire: aussi les\nlaiss\u00e2mes-nous aller.\nUne fois, cependant, un de leurs partis s\u2019approcha de nous, s\u2019arr\u00eata\npour nous contempler. Examinait-il ce qu\u2019il devait faire, s\u2019il devait\nnous attaquer ou non, nous ne savions pas. Quoi qu\u2019il en f\u00fbt, apr\u00e8s\nl\u2019avoir un peu d\u00e9pass\u00e9, nous form\u00e2mes une arri\u00e8re-garde de quarante\nhommes, et nous nous t\u00eenmes pr\u00eats \u00e0 le recevoir, laissant la caravane\ncheminer \u00e0 un demi-mille ou environ devant nous. Mais au bout de\nquelques instants il se retira, nous saluant simplement \u00e0 son d\u00e9part\nde cinq fl\u00e8ches, dont une blessa et estropia un de nos chevaux:\nnous abandonn\u00e2mes le lendemain la pauvre b\u00eate en grand besoin d\u2019un\nbon mar\u00e9chal. Nous nous attendions \u00e0 ce qu\u2019il nous d\u00e9cocherait de\nnouvelles fl\u00e8ches, mieux ajust\u00e9es; mais, pour cette fois, nous ne\nv\u00eemes plus ni fl\u00e8ches ni Tartares.\nNous march\u00e2mes apr\u00e8s ceci pr\u00e8s d\u2019un mois par des routes moins bonnes\nque d\u2019abord, quoique nous fussions toujours dans les \u00c9tats de\nl\u2019Empereur de la Chine; mais, pour la plupart, elles traversaient des\nvillages dont quelques-uns \u00e9taient fortifi\u00e9s, \u00e0 cause des incursions\ndes Tartares. En atteignant un de ces bourgs, \u00e0 deux journ\u00e9es et demie\nde marche de la ville de Naum, je me proposai d\u2019acheter un chameau.\nTout le long de cette route il y en avait \u00e0 vendre en quantit\u00e9, ainsi\nque des chevaux tels quels, parce que les nombreuses caravanes qui\nsuivent ce chemin en ont souvent besoin. La personne \u00e0 laquelle je\nm\u2019adressai pour me procurer un chameau serait all\u00e9e me le chercher;\nmais moi, comme un fou, par courtoisie, je voulus l\u2019accompagner.\nL\u2019emplacement o\u00f9 l\u2019on tenait les chameaux et les chevaux sous bonne\ngarde se trouvait environ \u00e0 deux milles du bourg.\nJe m\u2019y rendis \u00e0 pied avec mon vieux pilote et un Chinois, d\u00e9sireux que\nj\u2019\u00e9tais d\u2019un peu de diversit\u00e9. En arrivant l\u00e0, nous v\u00eemes un terrain\nbas et mar\u00e9cageux entour\u00e9 comme un parc d\u2019une muraille de pierres\nempil\u00e9es \u00e0 sec, sans mortier et sans liaison, avec une petite garde\nde soldats chinois \u00e0 la porte. Apr\u00e8s avoir fait choix d\u2019un chameau,\napr\u00e8s \u00eatre tomb\u00e9 d\u2019accord sur le prix, je m\u2019en revenais, et le Chinois\nqui m\u2019avait suivi conduisait la b\u00eate, quand tout \u00e0 coup s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent\ncinq Tartares \u00e0 cheval: deux d\u2019entre eux se saisirent du camarade et\nlui enlev\u00e8rent le chameau, tandis que les trois autres coururent sur\nmon vieux pilote et sur moi, nous voyant en quelque sorte sans armes;\nje n\u2019avais que mon \u00e9p\u00e9e, mis\u00e9rable d\u00e9fense contre trois cavaliers. Le\npremier qui s\u2019avan\u00e7a s\u2019arr\u00eata court quand je mis flamberge au vent,\ncar ce sont d\u2019insignes couards; mais un second se jetant \u00e0 ma gauche\nm\u2019ass\u00e9na un horion sur la t\u00eate; je ne le sentis que plus tard et je\nm\u2019\u00e9tonnai, lorsque je revins \u00e0 moi, de ce qui avait eu lieu et de ma\nposture, car il m\u2019avait renvers\u00e9 tout de mon long \u00e0 terre. Mais mon\nfid\u00e8le pilote, mon vieux Portugais, par un de ces coups heureux de la\nProvidence, qui se pla\u00eet \u00e0 nous d\u00e9livrer des dangers par des voies\nimpr\u00e9vues, avait un pistolet dans sa poche, ce que je ne savais pas,\nnon plus que les Tartares; s\u2019ils l\u2019avaient su, je ne pense pas qu\u2019ils\nnous eussent attaqu\u00e9s: les couards sont toujours les plus hardis quand\nil n\u2019y a pas de danger.\n[Illustration: Deux d\u2019entre eux se saisirent du camarade et lui\nenlev\u00e8rent le chameau...]\nLe bonhomme, me voyant terrass\u00e9, marcha intr\u00e9pidement sur le bandit\nqui m\u2019avait frapp\u00e9, et lui saisissant le bras d\u2019une main et de l\u2019autre\nl\u2019attirant violemment \u00e0 lui, il lui d\u00e9chargea son pistolet dans la\nt\u00eate et l\u2019\u00e9tendit roide mort; puis il s\u2019\u00e9lan\u00e7a imm\u00e9diatement sur celui\nqui s\u2019\u00e9tait arr\u00eat\u00e9, comme je l\u2019ai dit, et avant qu\u2019il p\u00fbt s\u2019avancer de\nnouveau, car tout ceci fut fait pour ainsi dire en un tour de main, il\nlui d\u00e9tacha un coup du cimeterre qu\u2019il portait d\u2019habitude. Il manqua\nl\u2019homme, mais il effleura la t\u00eate du cheval et lui abattit une oreille\net une bonne tranche de la bajoue. Exasp\u00e9r\u00e9e par ses blessures,\nn\u2019ob\u00e9issant plus \u00e0 son cavalier, quoiqu\u2019il se t\u00eent bien en selle, la\npauvre b\u00eate prit la fuite et l\u2019emporta hors de l\u2019atteinte du pilote.\nEnfin, se dressant sur les pieds de derri\u00e8re, elle culbuta le Tartare\net se laissa choir sur lui.\nDans ces entrefaites survint le pauvre Chinois qui avait perdu le\nchameau; mais il n\u2019avait point d\u2019armes. Cependant, apercevant le\nTartare abattu et \u00e9cras\u00e9 sous son cheval, il courut \u00e0 lui, et,\nempoignant un instrument grossier et mal fait qu\u2019il avait au c\u00f4t\u00e9,\nune mani\u00e8re de hache d\u2019armes, il le lui arracha et lui fit sauter sa\ncervelle tartarienne. Or mon vieux pilote avait encore quelque chose \u00e0\nd\u00e9m\u00ealer avec le troisi\u00e8me chenapan. Voyant qu\u2019il ne fuyait pas comme\nil s\u2019y \u00e9tait attendu, qu\u2019il ne s\u2019avan\u00e7ait pas pour le combattre comme\nil le redoutait, mais qu\u2019il restait l\u00e0 comme une souche, il se tint\ncoi lui-m\u00eame et se mit \u00e0 recharger son pistolet. Sit\u00f4t que le Tartare\nentrevit le pistolet, s\u2019imagina-t-il que c\u2019en \u00e9tait un autre, je ne\nsais, il se sauva ventre \u00e0 terre, laissant \u00e0 mon pilote, mon champion,\ncomme je l\u2019appelai depuis, une victoire compl\u00e8te.\nEn ce moment je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 m\u2019\u00e9veiller, car, en revenant \u00e0 moi, je\ncrus sortir d\u2019un doux sommeil; et, comme je l\u2019ai dit, je restai l\u00e0\ndans l\u2019\u00e9tonnement de savoir o\u00f9 j\u2019\u00e9tais, comment j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9 par\nterre, ce que tout cela signifiait; mais bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s, recouvrant mes\nesprits, j\u2019\u00e9prouvai une douleur vague, je portai la main \u00e0 ma t\u00eate,\net je la retirai ensanglant\u00e9e. Je sentis alors des \u00e9lancements, la\nm\u00e9moire me revint et tout se repr\u00e9senta dans mon esprit.\nJe me dressai subitement sur mes pieds, je me saisis de mon \u00e9p\u00e9e,\nmais point d\u2019ennemis! Je trouvai un Tartare \u00e9tendu mort et son cheval\narr\u00eat\u00e9 tranquillement pr\u00e8s de lui; et, regardant plus loin, j\u2019aper\u00e7us\nmon champion, mon lib\u00e9rateur, qui \u00e9tait all\u00e9 voir ce que le Chinois\navait fait et qui s\u2019en revenait avec son sabre \u00e0 la main. Le bonhomme\nme voyant sur pied vint \u00e0 moi en courant et m\u2019embrassa dans un\ntransport de joie, ayant eu d\u2019abord quelque crainte que je n\u2019eusse \u00e9t\u00e9\ntu\u00e9; et me voyant couvert de sang, il voulut visiter ma blessure; ce\nn\u2019\u00e9tait que peu de chose, et seulement, comme on dit, une t\u00eate cass\u00e9e.\nJe ne me ressentis pas trop de ce horion, si ce n\u2019est \u00e0 l\u2019endroit m\u00eame\nqui avait re\u00e7u le coup et qui se cicatrisa au bout de deux ou trois\njours.\nCette victoire apr\u00e8s tout ne nous procura pas grand butin, car nous\nperd\u00eemes un chameau et gagn\u00e2mes un cheval; mais ce qu\u2019il y a de bon,\nc\u2019est qu\u2019en rentrant dans le village, l\u2019homme, le vendeur, demanda \u00e0\n\u00eatre pay\u00e9 de son chameau. Je m\u2019y refusai, et l\u2019affaire fut port\u00e9e \u00e0\nl\u2019audience du juge chinois du lieu, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire, comme nous dirions\nchez nous, que nous all\u00e2mes devant un juge de paix. Rendons-lui\njustice, ce magistrat se comporta avec beaucoup de prudence et\nd\u2019impartialit\u00e9. Apr\u00e8s avoir entendu les deux parties, il demanda\ngravement au Chinois qui \u00e9tait venu avec moi pour acheter le chameau\nde qui il \u00e9tait le serviteur.\u2014\u00abJe ne suis pas serviteur, r\u00e9pondit-il,\nje suis all\u00e9 simplement avec l\u2019\u00e9tranger.\u00bb\u2014\u00abA la requ\u00eate de qui?\u00bb dit\nle juge.\u2014\u00abA la requ\u00eate de l\u2019\u00e9tranger.\u00bb\u2014\u00abAlors, reprit le _justice_,\nvous \u00e9tiez serviteur de l\u2019\u00e9tranger pour le moment; et le chameau ayant\n\u00e9t\u00e9 livr\u00e9 \u00e0 son serviteur, il a \u00e9t\u00e9 livr\u00e9 \u00e0 lui, et il faut, lui,\nqu\u2019il le paye.\u00bb\nJ\u2019avoue que la chose \u00e9tait si claire que je n\u2019eus pas un mot \u00e0 dire.\nEnchant\u00e9 de la cons\u00e9quence tir\u00e9e d\u2019un si juste raisonnement et de voir\nle cas si exactement \u00e9tabli, je payai le chameau de tout c\u0153ur et j\u2019en\nenvoyai qu\u00e9rir un autre. Remarquez bien que j\u2019y envoyai; je me donnai\nde garde d\u2019aller le chercher moi-m\u00eame: j\u2019en avais assez comme \u00e7a.\nLa ville de Naum est sur la lisi\u00e8re de l\u2019Empire chinois. On la dit\nfortifi\u00e9e et l\u2019on dit vrai: elle l\u2019est pour le pays; car je ne\ncraindrais pas d\u2019affirmer que tous les Tartares du Karakathay, qui\nsont, je crois, quelques millions, ne pourraient pas en abattre les\nmurailles avec leurs arcs et leurs fl\u00e8ches; mais appeler cela une\nville forte, si elle \u00e9tait attaqu\u00e9e avec du canon, ce serait vouloir\nse faire rire au nez par tous ceux qui s\u2019y entendent.\nNous \u00e9tions encore, comme je l\u2019ai dit, \u00e0 plus de deux journ\u00e9es de\nmarche de cette ville, quand des expr\u00e8s furent exp\u00e9di\u00e9s sur toute la\nroute pour ordonner \u00e0 tous les voyageurs et \u00e0 toutes les caravanes de\nfaire halte jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce qu\u2019on leur e\u00fbt envoy\u00e9 une escorte, parce qu\u2019un\ncorps formidable de Tartares, pouvant monter \u00e0 dix mille hommes, avait\nparu \u00e0 trente milles environ au del\u00e0 de la ville.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait une fort mauvaise nouvelle pour des voyageurs; cependant, de\nla part du gouverneur, l\u2019attention \u00e9tait louable, et nous f\u00fbmes tr\u00e8s\ncontents d\u2019apprendre que nous aurions une escorte. Deux jours apr\u00e8s\nnous re\u00e7\u00fbmes donc deux cents soldats d\u00e9tach\u00e9s d\u2019une garnison chinoise\nsur notre gauche et trois cents autres de la ville de Naum, et avec\nce renfort nous avan\u00e7\u00e2mes hardiment. Les trois cents soldats de Naum\nmarchaient \u00e0 notre front, les deux cents autres \u00e0 l\u2019arri\u00e8re-garde, nos\ngens de chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 des chameaux charg\u00e9s de nos bagages, et toute la\ncaravane au centre. Dans cet ordre, et bien pr\u00e9par\u00e9s au combat, nous\nnous croyions \u00e0 m\u00eame de r\u00e9pondre aux dix mille Tartares-Mongols, s\u2019ils\nse pr\u00e9sentaient; mais le lendemain, quand ils se montr\u00e8rent, ce fut\ntout autre chose.\nDe tr\u00e8s bonne heure dans la matin\u00e9e, comme nous quittions une petite\nville assez bien situ\u00e9e, nomm\u00e9e Changu, nous e\u00fbmes une rivi\u00e8re \u00e0\ntraverser. Nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de la passer dans un bac, et si les\nTartares eussent eu quelque intelligence, c\u2019est alors qu\u2019ils nous\neussent attaqu\u00e9s, tandis que la caravane \u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 sur l\u2019autre\nrivage et l\u2019arri\u00e8re-garde encore en de\u00e7\u00e0; mais personne ne parut en ce\nlieu.\nEnviron trois heures apr\u00e8s, quand nous f\u00fbmes entr\u00e9s dans un d\u00e9sert\nde quinze ou seize milles d\u2019\u00e9tendue, \u00e0 un nuage de poussi\u00e8re qui\ns\u2019\u00e9levait nous pr\u00e9sum\u00e2mes que l\u2019ennemi \u00e9tait proche: et il \u00e9tait\nproche en effet, car il arrivait sur nous \u00e0 toute bride.\nLes Chinois de notre avant-garde, qui la veille avaient eu le verbe si\nhaut, commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 s\u2019\u00e9branler; fr\u00e9quemment ils regardaient derri\u00e8re\neux, signe certain chez un soldat qu\u2019il est pr\u00eat \u00e0 lever le camp. Mon\nvieux pilote fit la m\u00eame remarque; et, comme il se trouvait pr\u00e8s de\nmoi, il m\u2019appela:\u2014\u00abSenhor Inglez, dit-il, il faut remettre du c\u0153ur au\nventre \u00e0 ces dr\u00f4les, ou ils nous perdront tous, car si les Tartares\ns\u2019avancent, ils ne r\u00e9sisteront pas.\u00bb\u2014\u00abC\u2019est aussi mon avis, lui\nr\u00e9pondis-je, mais que faire?\u00bb\u2014\u00abQue faire! s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il: que de chaque\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 cinquante de nos hommes s\u2019avancent, qu\u2019ils flanquent ces peureux\net les animent, et ils combattront comme de braves compagnons en brave\ncompagnie; sinon tous vont tourner casaque.\u00bb\u2014L\u00e0-dessus je courus au\ngalop vers notre commandant, je lui parlai, il fut enti\u00e8rement de\nnotre avis: cinquante de nous se port\u00e8rent donc \u00e0 l\u2019aile droite et\ncinquante \u00e0 l\u2019aile gauche, et le reste forma une ligne de r\u00e9serve.\nNous poursuiv\u00eemes ainsi notre route, laissant les derniers deux cents\nhommes faire un corps \u00e0 part pour garder nos chameaux; seulement,\nsi besoin \u00e9tait, ils devaient envoyer une centaine des leurs pour\nassister nos cinquante hommes de r\u00e9serve.\nBref, les Tartares arriv\u00e8rent en foule: impossible \u00e0 nous de dire\nleur nombre, mais nous pens\u00e2mes qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient dix mille tout au\nmoins. Ils d\u00e9tach\u00e8rent d\u2019abord un parti pour examiner notre attitude,\nen traversant le terrain sur le front de notre ligne. Comme nous le\ntenions \u00e0 port\u00e9e de fusil, notre commandant ordonna aux deux ailes\nd\u2019avancer en toute h\u00e2te et de lui envoyer simultan\u00e9ment une salve de\nmousqueterie, ce qui fut fait. Sur ce, il prit la fuite, pour rendre\ncompte, je pr\u00e9sume, de la r\u00e9ception qui attendait nos Tartares. Et il\npara\u00eetrait que ce salut ne les mit pas en go\u00fbt, car ils firent halte\nimm\u00e9diatement. Apr\u00e8s quelques instants de d\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, faisant un\ndemi-tour \u00e0 gauche, ils rengain\u00e8rent leur compliment et ne nous en\ndirent pas davantage pour cette fois, ce qui, vu les circonstances, ne\nfut pas tr\u00e8s d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able: nous ne br\u00fblions pas excessivement de livrer\nbataille \u00e0 une pareille multitude.\nDeux jours apr\u00e8s ceci nous atteign\u00eemes la ville de Naum ou Naunm.\nNous remerci\u00e2mes le gouverneur de ses soins pour nous, et nous f\u00eemes\nune collecte qui s\u2019\u00e9leva \u00e0 une centaine de crowns que nous donn\u00e2mes\naux soldats envoy\u00e9s pour notre escorte. Nous y rest\u00e2mes un jour. Naum\nest tout de bon une ville de garnison; il y avait bien neuf cents\nsoldats, et la raison en est qu\u2019autrefois les fronti\u00e8res moscovites\n\u00e9taient beaucoup plus voisines qu\u2019elles ne le sont aujourd\u2019hui, les\nMoscovites ayant abandonn\u00e9 toute cette portion du pays (laquelle, \u00e0\nl\u2019ouest de la ville, s\u2019\u00e9tend jusqu\u2019\u00e0 deux cents milles environ) comme\nst\u00e9rile et ind\u00e9frichable, et plus encore \u00e0 cause de son \u00e9loignement et\nde la difficult\u00e9 qu\u2019il y a d\u2019y entretenir des troupes pour sa d\u00e9fense,\ncar nous \u00e9tions encore \u00e0 deux mille milles de la Moscovie proprement\ndite.\nApr\u00e8s cette \u00e9tape, nous e\u00fbmes \u00e0 passer plusieurs grandes rivi\u00e8res\net deux terribles d\u00e9serts, dont l\u2019un nous co\u00fbta seize jours de\nmarche: c\u2019est \u00e0 juste titre, comme je l\u2019ai dit, qu\u2019ils pourraient\nse nommer _No Man\u2019s Land_ (la Terre de Personne); et, le 13 avril,\nnous arriv\u00e2mes aux fronti\u00e8res des \u00c9tats moscovites. Si je me souviens\nbien, la premi\u00e8re cit\u00e9, ville ou forteresse, comme il vous plaira, qui\nappartient au Czar de Moscovie, s\u2019appelle Argun, situ\u00e9e qu\u2019elle est\nsur la rive occidentale de la rivi\u00e8re de ce nom.\nJe ne pus m\u2019emp\u00eacher de faire para\u00eetre une vive satisfaction en\nentrant dans ce que j\u2019appelais un pays chr\u00e9tien, ou du moins dans\nun pays gouvern\u00e9 par des chr\u00e9tiens; car, quoique \u00e0 mon sens les\nMoscovites ne m\u00e9ritent que tout juste le nom de chr\u00e9tiens, cependant\nils se pr\u00e9tendent tels et sont tr\u00e8s d\u00e9vots \u00e0 leur mani\u00e8re. Tout homme\n\u00e0 coup s\u00fbr qui voyage par le monde comme je l\u2019ai fait, s\u2019il n\u2019est pas\nincapable de r\u00e9flexion, tout homme, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, dis-je, en arrivera \u00e0\nse bien p\u00e9n\u00e9trer que c\u2019est une b\u00e9n\u00e9diction d\u2019\u00eatre n\u00e9 dans une contr\u00e9e\no\u00f9 le nom de Dieu et d\u2019un R\u00e9dempteur est connu, r\u00e9v\u00e9r\u00e9, ador\u00e9, et non\npas dans un pays o\u00f9 le peuple, abandonn\u00e9 par le ciel \u00e0 de grossi\u00e8res\nimpostures, adore le d\u00e9mon, se prosterne devant le bois et la pierre,\net rend un culte aux monstres, aux \u00e9l\u00e9ments, \u00e0 des animaux de forme\nhorrible, \u00e0 des statues ou \u00e0 des images monstrueuses. Pas une ville,\npas un bourg par o\u00f9 nous venions de passer qui n\u2019e\u00fbt ses pagodes,\nses idoles, ses temples, et dont la population ignorante n\u2019ador\u00e2t\njusqu\u2019aux ouvrages de ses mains!\nAlors du moins nous \u00e9tions arriv\u00e9s en un lieu o\u00f9 tout respirait le\nculte chr\u00e9tien, o\u00f9, m\u00eal\u00e9e d\u2019ignorance ou non, la religion chr\u00e9tienne\n\u00e9tait profess\u00e9e et le nom du vrai Dieu invoqu\u00e9 et ador\u00e9. J\u2019en\n\u00e9tais r\u00e9joui jusqu\u2019au fond de l\u2019\u00e2me. Je saluai le brave marchand\n\u00e9cossais dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9 plus haut \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re nouvelle que j\u2019en\neus, et, lui prenant la main, je lui dis:\u2014\u00abB\u00e9ni soit Dieu! nous\nvoici encore une fois revenus parmi les chr\u00e9tiens!\u00bb\u2014Il sourit, et\nme r\u00e9pondit:\u2014\u00abCompatriote, ne vous r\u00e9jouissez pas trop t\u00f4t: ces\nMoscovites sont une \u00e9trange sorte de chr\u00e9tiens; ils en portent le nom,\net voil\u00e0 tout; vous ne verrez pas grand\u2019chose de r\u00e9el avant quelques\nmois de plus de notre voyage.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abSoit, dis-je; mais toujours est-il que cela vaut mieux que le\npaganisme et l\u2019adoration des d\u00e9mons.\u00bb\u2014\u00abAttendez, reprit-il, je vous\ndirai qu\u2019except\u00e9 les soldats russiens des garnisons et quelques\nhabitants des villes sur la route, tout le reste du pays jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nplus de mille milles au del\u00e0 est habit\u00e9 par des pa\u00efens ex\u00e9crables et\nstupides;\u00bb\u2014comme en effet nous le v\u00eemes.\nNous \u00e9tions alors, si je comprends quelque chose \u00e0 la surface du\nglobe, lanc\u00e9s \u00e0 travers la plus grande pi\u00e8ce de terre solide qui se\npuisse trouver dans l\u2019univers. Nous avions au moins douze cents milles\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 la mer, \u00e0 l\u2019est; nous en avions au moins deux mille jusqu\u2019au\nfond de la mer Baltique, du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019ouest, et au moins trois mille\nsi nous laissions cette mer pour aller chercher au couchant le canal\nde la Manche entre la France et l\u2019Angleterre; nous avions cinq mille\nmilles pleins jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la mer des Indes ou de Perse, vers le sud, et\nenviron huit cents milles au nord jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la mer Glaciale. Si l\u2019on en\ncroit m\u00eame certaines gens, il ne se trouve point de mer du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du\nnord-est jusqu\u2019au p\u00f4le, et cons\u00e9quemment dans tout le nord-ouest: un\ncontinent irait donc rejoindre l\u2019Am\u00e9rique, nul mortel ne sait o\u00f9! mais\nd\u2019excellentes raisons que je pourrais donner me portent \u00e0 croire que\nc\u2019est une erreur.\nQuand nous f\u00fbmes entr\u00e9s dans les possessions moscovites, avant\nd\u2019arriver \u00e0 quelque ville consid\u00e9rable, nous n\u2019e\u00fbmes rien \u00e0 observer,\nsinon que toutes les rivi\u00e8res coulent \u00e0 l\u2019est. Ainsi que je le\nreconnus sur les cartes que quelques personnes de la caravane avaient\navec elles, il est clair qu\u2019elles affluent toutes dans le grand fleuve\nYamour ou Gammour. Ce fleuve, d\u2019apr\u00e8s son cours naturel, doit se jeter\ndans la mer ou Oc\u00e9an chinois. On nous raconta que ses bouches sont\nobstru\u00e9es par des joncs d\u2019une crue monstrueuse de trois pieds de tour\net de vingt ou trente pieds de haut. Qu\u2019il me soit permis de dire que\nje n\u2019en crois rien. Comme on ne navigue pas sur ce fleuve, parce qu\u2019il\nne se fait point de commerce de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, les Tartares qui, seuls, en\nsont les ma\u00eetres, s\u2019adonnant tout entiers \u00e0 leurs troupeaux, personne\ndonc, que je sache, n\u2019a \u00e9t\u00e9 assez curieux pour le descendre en bateau\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 son embouchure, ou pour le remonter avec des navires. Chose\npositive, c\u2019est que, courant vers l\u2019est par une latitude de 60 degr\u00e9s,\nil emporte un nombre infini de rivi\u00e8res, et qu\u2019il trouve dans cette\nlatitude un oc\u00e9an pour verser ses eaux. Aussi est-on s\u00fbr qu\u2019il y a une\nmer par l\u00e0.\nA quelques lieues au nord de ce fleuve il se trouve plusieurs rivi\u00e8res\nconsid\u00e9rables qui courent aussi directement au nord que le Yamour\ncourt \u00e0 l\u2019est. On sait qu\u2019elles vont se d\u00e9charger dans le grand fleuve\nTartarus, tirant son nom des nations les plus septentrionales d\u2019entre\nles Tartares-Mongols, qui, au sentiment des Chinois, seraient les plus\nanciens Tartares du monde, et, selon nos g\u00e9ographes, les Gogs et\nMagogs dont il est fait mention dans l\u2019histoire sacr\u00e9e.\nCes rivi\u00e8res courant toutes au nord aussi bien que celles dont j\u2019ai\nencore \u00e0 parler, d\u00e9montrent \u00e9videmment que l\u2019Oc\u00e9an septentrional\nborne aussi la terre de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, de sorte qu\u2019il ne semble nullement\nrationnel de penser que le continent puisse se prolonger dans cette\nr\u00e9gion pour aller joindre l\u2019Am\u00e9rique, ni qu\u2019il n\u2019y ait point de\ncommunication entre l\u2019Oc\u00e9an septentrional et oriental; mais je n\u2019en\ndirai pas davantage l\u00e0-dessus: c\u2019est une observation que je fis\nalors, voil\u00e0 pourquoi je l\u2019ai consign\u00e9e ici. De la rivi\u00e8re Arguna,\nnous pouss\u00e2mes en avant \u00e0 notre aise et \u00e0 petites journ\u00e9es, et nous\nf\u00fbmes sensiblement oblig\u00e9s du soin que le Czar de Moscovie a pris\nde b\u00e2tir autant de cit\u00e9s et de villes que possible, o\u00f9 ses soldats\ntiennent garnison \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s comme ces colonies militaires post\u00e9es par\nles Romains dans les contr\u00e9es les plus recul\u00e9es de leur Empire, et\ndont quelques-unes, entre autres, \u00e0 ce que j\u2019ai lu, \u00e9taient plac\u00e9es\nen Bretagne pour la s\u00fbret\u00e9 du commerce et pour l\u2019h\u00e9bergement des\nvoyageurs. C\u2019\u00e9tait de m\u00eame ici; car partout o\u00f9 nous pass\u00e2mes, bien\nque, en ces villes et en ces stations, la garnison et les gouverneurs\nfussent Russiens et professassent le christianisme, les habitants du\npays n\u2019\u00e9taient que de vrais pa\u00efens, sacrifiant aux idoles et adorant\nle soleil, la lune, les \u00e9toiles et toutes les arm\u00e9es du ciel. Je\ndirai m\u00eame que de toutes les idol\u00e2tries, de tous les pa\u00efens que je\nrencontrai jamais, c\u2019\u00e9taient bien les plus barbares; seulement ces\nmis\u00e9rables ne mangeaient pas de chair humaine, comme font nos sauvages\nde l\u2019Am\u00e9rique.\nNous en v\u00eemes quelques exemples dans le pays entre Arguna, par o\u00f9\nnous entr\u00e2mes dans les \u00c9tats moscovites, et une ville habit\u00e9e par\ndes Tartares et des Moscovites appel\u00e9e Nertzinskoy, o\u00f9 se trouve\nun d\u00e9sert, une for\u00eat continue qui nous demanda vingt-deux jours de\nmarche. Dans un village pr\u00e8s de la derni\u00e8re de ces places, j\u2019eus la\ncuriosit\u00e9 d\u2019aller observer la mani\u00e8re de vivre des gens du pays, qui\nest bien la plus brute et la plus insoutenable. Ce jour-l\u00e0 il y avait\nsans doute grand sacrifice, car on avait dress\u00e9 sur un vieux tronc\nd\u2019arbre une idole de bois aussi effroyable que le diable, du moins \u00e0\npeu pr\u00e8s comme nous nous figurons qu\u2019il doit \u00eatre repr\u00e9sent\u00e9: elle\navait une t\u00eate qui assur\u00e9ment ne ressemblait \u00e0 celle d\u2019aucune cr\u00e9ature\nque le monde ait vue; des oreilles aussi grosses que les cornes d\u2019un\nbouc et aussi longues; des yeux de la taille d\u2019un \u00e9cu; un nez bossu\ncomme une corne de b\u00e9lier, et une gueule carr\u00e9e et b\u00e9ante comme celle\nd\u2019un lion, avec des dents horribles, crochues comme le bec d\u2019un\nperroquet. Elle \u00e9tait habill\u00e9e de la plus sale mani\u00e8re qu\u2019on puisse\ns\u2019imaginer: son v\u00eatement sup\u00e9rieur se composait de peaux de mouton,\nla laine tourn\u00e9e en dehors, et d\u2019un grand bonnet tartare plant\u00e9 sur\nsa t\u00eate avec deux cornes passant au travers. Elle pouvait avoir huit\npieds de haut; mais elle n\u2019avait ni pieds ni jambes, ni aucune esp\u00e8ce\nde proportions.\nCet \u00e9pouvantail \u00e9tait \u00e9rig\u00e9 hors du village, et quand j\u2019en approchai\nil y avait l\u00e0 seize ou dix-sept cr\u00e9atures, hommes ou femmes, je ne\nsais,\u2014car ils ne font point de distinction ni dans leurs habits ni\ndans leurs coiffures,\u2014toutes couch\u00e9es par terre \u00e0 plat ventre, autour\nde ce formidable et informe bloc de bois. Je n\u2019apercevais pas le\nmoindre mouvement parmi elles, pas plus que si elles eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 des\nsouches comme leur idole. Je le croyais d\u2019abord tout de bon; mais\nquand je fus un peu plus pr\u00e8s, elles se dress\u00e8rent sur leurs pieds et\npouss\u00e8rent un hurlement, \u00e0 pleine gorge, comme l\u2019e\u00fbt fait une meute de\nchiens, puis elles se retir\u00e8rent, vex\u00e9es sans doute de ce que nous les\ntroublions. A une petite distance du monstre, \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e d\u2019une tente\nou hutte toute faite de peaux de mouton et de peaux de vache s\u00e9ch\u00e9es,\n\u00e9taient post\u00e9s trois hommes que je pris pour des bouchers, parce qu\u2019en\napprochant je vis de longs couteaux dans leurs mains et au milieu de\nla tente trois moutons tu\u00e9s et un jeune b\u0153uf ou bouvillon. Selon toute\napparence, ces victimes \u00e9taient pour cette b\u00fbche d\u2019idole, \u00e0 laquelle\nappartenaient les trois pr\u00eatres, et les dix-sept imb\u00e9ciles prostern\u00e9s\navaient fourni l\u2019offrande et adressaient leurs pri\u00e8res \u00e0 la b\u00fbche.\nJe confesse que je fus plus r\u00e9volt\u00e9 de leur stupidit\u00e9 et de cette\nbrutale adoration d\u2019un _hobgoblin_, d\u2019un fant\u00f4me, que de tout ce qui\nm\u2019avait frapp\u00e9 dans le cours de ma vie. Oh! qu\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait douloureux\nde voir la plus glorieuse, la meilleure cr\u00e9ature de Dieu, \u00e0 laquelle,\npar la cr\u00e9ation m\u00eame, il a octroy\u00e9 tant d\u2019avantages, pr\u00e9f\u00e9rablement \u00e0\ntous les autres ouvrages de ses mains, \u00e0 laquelle il a donn\u00e9 une \u00e2me\nraisonnable, dou\u00e9e de facult\u00e9s et de capacit\u00e9s, afin qu\u2019elle honor\u00e2t\nson Cr\u00e9ateur et qu\u2019elle en f\u00fbt honor\u00e9e! oh! qu\u2019il m\u2019\u00e9tait douloureux\nde la voir, dis-je, tomb\u00e9e et d\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e9r\u00e9e jusqu\u2019au point d\u2019\u00eatre assez\nstupide pour se prosterner devant un rien hideux, un objet purement\nimaginaire, dress\u00e9 par elle-m\u00eame, rendu terrible \u00e0 ses yeux par sa\npropre fantaisie, orn\u00e9 seulement de torchons et de guenilles, et de\nsonger que c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 l\u2019effet d\u2019une pure ignorance transform\u00e9e en\nd\u00e9votion infernale par le diable lui-m\u00eame, qui, enviant \u00e0 son Cr\u00e9ateur\nl\u2019hommage et l\u2019adoration de ses cr\u00e9atures, les avait plong\u00e9es dans des\nerreurs si grossi\u00e8res, si d\u00e9go\u00fbtantes, si honteuses, si bestiales,\nqu\u2019elles semblaient devoir choquer la nature elle-m\u00eame.\nMais que signifiaient cet \u00e9bahissement et ces r\u00e9flexions? C\u2019\u00e9tait\nainsi; je le voyais devant mes yeux; impossible \u00e0 moi d\u2019en douter.\nTout mon \u00e9tonnement tournant en rage, je galopai vers l\u2019image ou\nmonstre, comme il vous plaira, et avec mon \u00e9p\u00e9e je pourfendis le\nbonnet qu\u2019il avait sur la t\u00eate, au beau milieu, tellement qu\u2019il\npendait par une des cornes. Un de nos hommes qui se trouvait avec moi\nsaisit alors la peau de mouton qui couvrait l\u2019idole et l\u2019arrachait,\nquand tout \u00e0 coup une horrible clameur parcourut le village, et deux\nou trois cents dr\u00f4les me tomb\u00e8rent sur les bras, si bien que je me\nsauvai sans demander mon reste, et d\u2019autant plus volontiers que\nquelques-uns avaient des arcs et des fl\u00e8ches; mais je fis serment de\nleur rendre une nouvelle visite.\nNotre caravane demeura trois nuits dans la ville, distante de ce lieu\nde quatre ou cinq milles environ, afin de se pourvoir de quelques\nmontures dont elle avait besoin, plusieurs de nos chevaux ayant \u00e9t\u00e9\nsurmen\u00e9s et estropi\u00e9s par le mauvais chemin et notre longue marche \u00e0\ntravers le dernier d\u00e9sert; ce qui nous donna le loisir de mettre mon\ndessein \u00e0 ex\u00e9cution.\u2014Je communiquai mon projet au marchand \u00e9cossais\nde Moscou, dont le courage m\u2019\u00e9tait bien connu. Je lui contai ce que\nj\u2019avais vu et de quelle indignation j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 rempli en pensant\nque la nature humaine p\u00fbt d\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e9rer jusque-l\u00e0. Je lui dis que si\nje pouvais trouver quatre ou cinq hommes bien arm\u00e9s qui voulussent\nme suivre, j\u2019\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu \u00e0 aller d\u00e9truire cette immonde, cette\nabominable idole, pour faire voir \u00e0 ses adorateurs que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait\nqu\u2019un objet indigne de leur culte et de leurs pri\u00e8res, incapable de\nse d\u00e9fendre lui-m\u00eame, bien loin de pouvoir assister ceux qui lui\noffraient des sacrifices.\nIl se prit \u00e0 rire.\u2014\u00abVotre z\u00e8le peut \u00eatre bon, me dit-il; mais que\nvous proposez-vous par l\u00e0?\u00bb\u2014\u00abCe que je me propose! m\u2019\u00e9criai-je, c\u2019est\nde venger l\u2019honneur de Dieu qui est insult\u00e9 par cette adoration\nsatanique.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMais comment cela vengerait-il l\u2019honneur de Dieu,\nreprit-il, puisque ces gens ne seront pas \u00e0 m\u00eame de comprendre\nvotre intention, \u00e0 moins que vous ne leur parliez et ne la leur\nexpliquiez, et, alors, ils vous battront, je vous l\u2019assure, car ce\nsont d\u2019enrag\u00e9s coquins, et surtout quand il s\u2019agit de la d\u00e9fense de\nleur idol\u00e2trie.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNe pourrions-nous pas le faire de nuit, dis-je, et\nleur en laisser les raisons par \u00e9crit, dans leur propre langage?\u00bb\u2014\u00abPar\n\u00e9crit! r\u00e9p\u00e9ta-t-il; peste! Mais dans cinq de leurs nations il n\u2019y a\npas un seul homme qui sache ce que c\u2019est qu\u2019une lettre, qui sache\nlire un mot dans aucune langue, m\u00eame dans la leur.\u00bb\u2014\u00abMis\u00e9rable\nignorance!... m\u2019\u00e9criai-je. J\u2019ai pourtant grande envie d\u2019accomplir\nmon dessein; peut-\u00eatre la nature les am\u00e8nera-t-elle \u00e0 en tirer des\ninductions, et \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre combien ils sont stupides d\u2019adorer ces\nhideuses machines.\u00bb\u2014\u00abCela vous regarde, sir, reprit-il; si votre z\u00e8le\nvous y pousse si imp\u00e9rieusement, faites-le; mais auparavant qu\u2019il vous\nplaise de consid\u00e9rer que ces peuples sauvages sont assujettis par\nla force \u00e0 la domination du Czar de Moscovie; que si vous faites le\ncoup, il y a dix contre un \u00e0 parier qu\u2019ils viendront par milliers se\nplaindre au gouverneur de Nertzinskoy et demander satisfaction, et que\nsi on ne peut leur donner satisfaction, il y a dix contre un \u00e0 parier\nqu\u2019ils se r\u00e9volteront et que ce sera l\u00e0 l\u2019occasion d\u2019une nouvelle\nguerre avec tous les Tartares de ce pays.\u00bb\nCeci, je l\u2019avoue, me mit pour un moment de nouvelles pens\u00e9es en\nt\u00eate; mais j\u2019en revenais toujours \u00e0 ma premi\u00e8re id\u00e9e, et toute cette\njourn\u00e9e l\u2019ex\u00e9cution de mon projet me tourmenta[38]. Vers le soir, le\nmarchand \u00e9cossais m\u2019ayant rencontr\u00e9 par hasard dans notre promenade\nautour de la ville, me demanda \u00e0 s\u2019entretenir avec moi.\u2014\u00abJe crains,\nme dit-il, de vous avoir d\u00e9tourn\u00e9 de votre bon dessein: j\u2019en ai \u00e9t\u00e9\nun peu pr\u00e9occup\u00e9 depuis, car j\u2019abhorre les idoles et l\u2019idol\u00e2trie tout\nautant que vous pouvez le faire.\u00bb\u2014\u00abFranchement, lui r\u00e9pondis-je, vous\nm\u2019avez quelque peu d\u00e9concert\u00e9 quant \u00e0 son ex\u00e9cution, mais vous ne\nl\u2019avez point enti\u00e8rement chass\u00e9 de mon esprit, et je crois fort que je\nl\u2019accomplirai avant de quitter ce lieu, duss\u00e9-je leur \u00eatre livr\u00e9 en\nsatisfaction.\u00bb\u2014\u00abNon, non, dit-il, \u00e0 Dieu ne plaise qu\u2019on vous livre\n\u00e0 une pareille engeance de monstres! On ne le fera pas; ce serait\nvous assassiner.\u00bb\u2014\u00abOui-da! fis-je; eh! comment me traiteraient-ils\ndonc?\u00bb\u2014\u00abComment ils vous traiteraient! s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-il; \u00e9coutez, que je\nvous conte comment ils ont accommod\u00e9 un pauvre Russien qui, les ayant\ninsult\u00e9s dans leur culte, juste comme vous avez fait, tomba entre\nleurs mains. Apr\u00e8s l\u2019avoir estropi\u00e9 avec un dard pour qu\u2019il ne p\u00fbt\ns\u2019enfuir, ils le prirent, le mirent tout nu, le pos\u00e8rent sur le haut\nde leur idole-monstre, se rang\u00e8rent tout autour et lui tir\u00e8rent autant\nde fl\u00e8ches qu\u2019il s\u2019en put ficher dans son corps; puis ils le br\u00fbl\u00e8rent\nlui et toutes les fl\u00e8ches dont il \u00e9tait h\u00e9riss\u00e9, comme pour l\u2019offrir\nen sacrifice \u00e0 leur idole.\u00bb\u2014\u00ab\u00c9tait-ce la m\u00eame idole?\u00bb fis-je.\u2014\u00abOui,\ndit-il, justement la m\u00eame.\u00bb\u2014\u00abEh bien! repris-je, \u00e0 mon tour, que je\nvous conte une histoire.\u00bb\u2014L\u00e0-dessus je lui rapportai l\u2019aventure de nos\nAnglais \u00e0 Madagascar, et comment ils avaient incendi\u00e9 et mis \u00e0 sac un\nvillage et tu\u00e9 hommes, femmes et enfants pour venger le meurtre de\nnos compagnons, ainsi que cela a \u00e9t\u00e9 relat\u00e9 pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment; puis, quand\nj\u2019eus fini, j\u2019ajoutai que je pensais que nous devions faire de m\u00eame \u00e0\nce village.\nIl \u00e9couta tr\u00e8s attentivement toute l\u2019histoire; mais quand je parlai\nde faire de m\u00eame \u00e0 ce village, il me dit:\u2014\u00abVous vous trompez fort, ce\nn\u2019est pas ce village, c\u2019est au moins \u00e0 cent milles plus loin; mais\nc\u2019\u00e9tait bien la m\u00eame idole, car on la charrie en procession dans tout\nle pays.\u00bb\u2014\u00abEh bien! alors, dis-je, que l\u2019idole soit punie! et elle le\nsera, que je vive jusqu\u2019\u00e0 cette nuit!\u00bb\nBref, me voyant r\u00e9solu, l\u2019aventure le s\u00e9duisit, et il me dit que je\nn\u2019irais pas seul, qu\u2019il irait avec moi, et qu\u2019il m\u2019am\u00e8nerait pour nous\naccompagner un de ses compatriotes, un gaillard, disait-il, aussi\nfameux que qui que ce soit pour son z\u00e8le contre toutes pratiques\ndiaboliques. Bref, il m\u2019amena ce camarade, cet \u00c9cossais qu\u2019il appelait\ncapitaine Richardson. Je lui fis au long le r\u00e9cit de ce que j\u2019avais\nvu et de ce que je projetais, et sur-le-champ il me dit qu\u2019il voulait\nme suivre, d\u00fbt-il lui en co\u00fbter la vie. Nous conv\u00eenmes de partir\nseulement nous trois. J\u2019en avais bien fait la proposition \u00e0 mon\npartner, mais il s\u2019en \u00e9tait excus\u00e9. Il m\u2019avait dit que pour ma d\u00e9fense\nil \u00e9tait pr\u00eat \u00e0 m\u2019assister de toutes ses forces et en toute occasion;\nmais que c\u2019\u00e9tait une entreprise tout \u00e0 fait en dehors de sa voie:\nainsi, dis-je, nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de nous mettre en campagne seulement\nnous trois et mon serviteur, et d\u2019ex\u00e9cuter le coup cette nuit m\u00eame\nvers minuit, avec tout le secret imaginable.\nCependant, toute r\u00e9flexion faite, nous juge\u00e2mes bon de renvoyer la\npartie \u00e0 la nuit suivante, parce que la caravane devant se mettre en\nroute dans la matin\u00e9e du surlendemain, nous pens\u00e2mes que le gouverneur\nne pourrait pr\u00e9tendre donner satisfaction \u00e0 ces barbares \u00e0 nos d\u00e9pens\nquand nous serions hors de son pouvoir. Le marchand \u00e9cossais, aussi\nferme dans ses r\u00e9solutions que hardi dans l\u2019ex\u00e9cution, m\u2019apporta une\nrobe de Tartare ou gonelle de peau de mouton, un bonnet avec un arc et\ndes fl\u00e8ches, et s\u2019en pourvut lui-m\u00eame ainsi que son compatriote, afin\nque, si nous venions \u00e0 \u00eatre aper\u00e7us, on ne p\u00fbt savoir qui nous \u00e9tions.\nNous pass\u00e2mes toute la premi\u00e8re nuit \u00e0 mixtionner quelques mati\u00e8res\ncombustibles avec de l\u2019_aqua-vit\u00e6_, de la poudre \u00e0 canon et autres\ndrogues que nous avions pu nous procurer, et le lendemain, ayant une\nbonne quantit\u00e9 de goudron dans un petit pot, environ une heure apr\u00e8s\nle soleil couch\u00e9 nous part\u00eemes pour notre exp\u00e9dition.\nQuand nous arriv\u00e2mes, il \u00e9tait \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s onze heures du soir: nous\nne remarqu\u00e2mes pas que le peuple e\u00fbt le moindre soup\u00e7on du danger qui\nmena\u00e7ait son idole. La nuit \u00e9tait sombre, le ciel \u00e9tait couvert de\nnuages; cependant la lune donnait assez de lumi\u00e8re pour laisser voir\nque l\u2019idole \u00e9tait juste dans la m\u00eame posture et place qu\u2019auparavant.\nLes habitants semblaient tout entiers \u00e0 leur repos; seulement dans la\ngrande hutte ou tente, comme nous l\u2019appelions, o\u00f9 nous avions vu les\ntrois pr\u00eatres que nous avions pris pour des bouchers, nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes\nune lueur, et en nous glissant pr\u00e8s de la porte, nous entend\u00eemes\nparler, comme s\u2019il y avait cinq ou six personnes. Il nous parut donc\nde toute \u00e9vidence que si nous mettions le feu \u00e0 l\u2019idole, ces gens\nsortiraient imm\u00e9diatement et s\u2019\u00e9lanceraient sur nous pour la sauver de\nla destruction que nous pr\u00e9m\u00e9ditions. Mais comment faire? nous \u00e9tions\nfort embarrass\u00e9s. Il nous passa bien par l\u2019esprit de l\u2019emporter et de\nla br\u00fbler plus loin; mais quand nous v\u00eenmes \u00e0 y mettre la main, nous\nla trouv\u00e2mes trop pesante pour nos forces et nous retomb\u00e2mes dans la\nm\u00eame perplexit\u00e9. Le second \u00c9cossais \u00e9tait d\u2019avis de mettre le feu \u00e0\nla hutte et d\u2019assommer les dr\u00f4les qui s\u2019y trouvaient \u00e0 mesure qu\u2019ils\nmontreraient le nez; mais je m\u2019y opposai, je n\u2019entendais point qu\u2019on\ntu\u00e2t personne, s\u2019il \u00e9tait possible de l\u2019\u00e9viter.\u2014\u00abEh bien! alors, dit\nle marchand \u00e9cossais, voil\u00e0 ce qu\u2019il nous faut faire: t\u00e2chons de nous\nemparer d\u2019eux, lions-leur les mains, et for\u00e7ons-les \u00e0 assister \u00e0 la\ndestruction de leur idole.\u00bb\nComme il se trouvait que nous n\u2019avions pas mal de cordes et de\nficelles qui nous avaient servi \u00e0 lier nos pi\u00e8ces d\u2019artifice, nous\nnous d\u00e9termin\u00e2mes \u00e0 attaquer d\u2019abord les gens de la cabane, et avec\naussi peu de bruit que possible. Nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes par heurter \u00e0 la\nporte, et quand un des pr\u00eatres se pr\u00e9senta, nous nous en sais\u00eemes\nbrusquement, nous lui bouch\u00e2mes la bouche, nous lui li\u00e2mes les mains\nsur le dos et le conduis\u00eemes vers l\u2019idole, o\u00f9 nous le b\u00e2illonn\u00e2mes\npour qu\u2019il ne p\u00fbt jeter des cris; nous lui attach\u00e2mes aussi les pieds\net le laiss\u00e2mes par terre.\nDeux d\u2019entre nous guett\u00e8rent alors \u00e0 la porte, comptant que quelque\nautre sortirait pour voir de quoi il \u00e9tait question. Nous attend\u00eemes\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que notre troisi\u00e8me compagnon nous e\u00fbt rejoints; mais\npersonne ne se montrant, nous heurt\u00e2mes de nouveau tout doucement.\nAussit\u00f4t sortirent deux individus que nous accommod\u00e2mes juste de la\nm\u00eame mani\u00e8re; mais nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de nous mettre tous apr\u00e8s eux\npour les coucher par terre pr\u00e8s de l\u2019idole, \u00e0 quelque distance l\u2019un\nde l\u2019autre. Quand nous rev\u00eenmes, nous en v\u00eemes deux autres \u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e\nde la hutte et un troisi\u00e8me se tenant derri\u00e8re en dedans de la porte.\nNous empoign\u00e2mes les deux premiers et les li\u00e2mes sur-le-champ. Le\ntroisi\u00e8me se prit alors \u00e0 crier en se reculant; mais mon \u00c9cossais le\nsuivit, et prenant une composition que nous avions faite, une mixtion\npropre \u00e0 r\u00e9pandre seulement de la fum\u00e9e et de la puanteur, il y mit le\nfeu et la jeta au beau milieu de la hutte. Dans l\u2019entrefaite l\u2019autre\n\u00c9cossais et mon serviteur, s\u2019occupant des deux hommes d\u00e9j\u00e0 li\u00e9s, les\nattach\u00e8rent ensemble par le bras, les men\u00e8rent aupr\u00e8s de l\u2019idole;\npuis, pour qu\u2019ils vissent si elle les secourrait, ils les laiss\u00e8rent\nl\u00e0, ayant grande h\u00e2te de revenir vers nous.\nQuand l\u2019artifice que nous avions jet\u00e9 eut tellement rempli la hutte\nde fum\u00e9e qu\u2019on y \u00e9tait presque suffoqu\u00e9, nous y lan\u00e7\u00e2mes un sachet\nde cuir d\u2019une autre esp\u00e8ce qui flambait comme une chandelle; nous\nle suiv\u00eemes, et nous n\u2019aper\u00e7\u00fbmes que quatre personnes, deux hommes\net deux femmes \u00e0 ce que nous cr\u00fbmes, venus sans doute pour quelque\nsacrifice diabolique. Ils nous parurent dans une frayeur mortelle, ou\ndu moins tremblants, stup\u00e9fi\u00e9s, et \u00e0 cause de la fum\u00e9e incapables de\nprof\u00e9rer une parole.\nEn un mot, nous les pr\u00eemes, nous les garrott\u00e2mes comme les autres,\net le tout sans aucun bruit. J\u2019aurais d\u00fb dire que nous les emmen\u00e2mes\nhors de la hutte d\u2019abord, car tout comme \u00e0 eux la fum\u00e9e nous fut\ninsupportable. Ceci fait, nous les conduis\u00eemes tous ensemble vers\nl\u2019idole, et, arriv\u00e9s l\u00e0, nous nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 la travailler: d\u2019abord nous\nla barbouill\u00e2mes du haut en bas, ainsi que son accoutrement, avec du\ngoudron, et certaine autre mati\u00e8re que nous avions compos\u00e9e de suif\net de soufre; nous lui bourr\u00e2mes ensuite les yeux, les oreilles et\nla gueule de poudre \u00e0 canon; puis nous entortill\u00e2mes dans son bonnet\nune grande pi\u00e8ce d\u2019artifice, et quand nous l\u2019e\u00fbmes couverte de tous\nles combustibles que nous avions apport\u00e9s, nous regard\u00e2mes autour\nde nous pour voir si nous pourrions trouver quelque chose pour son\nembrasement. Tout \u00e0 coup mon serviteur se souvint que pr\u00e8s de la hutte\nil y avait un tas de fourrage sec, de la paille ou du foin, je ne me\nrappelle pas: il y courut avec un des \u00c9cossais et ils en apport\u00e8rent\nplein leurs bras. Quand nous e\u00fbmes achev\u00e9 cette besogne, nous pr\u00eemes\ntous nos prisonniers, nous les rapproch\u00e2mes, ayant les pieds d\u00e9li\u00e9s et\nla bouche d\u00e9b\u00e2illonn\u00e9e, nous les f\u00eemes tenir debout et les plant\u00e2mes\njuste devant leur monstrueuse idole, puis nous y m\u00eemes feu de tous\nc\u00f4t\u00e9s.\nNous demeur\u00e2mes l\u00e0 un quart d\u2019heure ou environ avant que la poudre des\nyeux, de la bouche et des oreilles de l\u2019idole saut\u00e2t; cette explosion,\ncomme il nous fut facile de le voir, la fendit et la d\u00e9figura toute;\nen un mot, nous demeur\u00e2mes l\u00e0 jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que nous la v\u00eemes s\u2019embraser\net ne former plus qu\u2019une souche, qu\u2019un bloc de bois. Apr\u00e8s l\u2019avoir\nentour\u00e9e de fourrage sec, ne doutant pas qu\u2019elle ne f\u00fbt bient\u00f4t\nenti\u00e8rement consum\u00e9e, nous nous disposions \u00e0 nous retirer, mais\nl\u2019\u00c9cossais nous dit:\u2014\u00abNe partons pas, car ces pauvres mis\u00e9rables dupes\nseraient capables de se jeter dans le feu pour se faire r\u00f4tir avec\nleur idole.\u00bb\u2014Nous consent\u00eemes donc \u00e0 rester jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que le fourrage\nf\u00fbt br\u00fbl\u00e9, puis nous f\u00eemes volte-face, et les quitt\u00e2mes.\nLe matin, nous par\u00fbmes parmi nos compagnons de voyage excessivement\noccup\u00e9s \u00e0 nos pr\u00e9paratifs de d\u00e9part: personne ne se serait imagin\u00e9 que\nnous \u00e9tions all\u00e9s ailleurs que dans nos lits, comme raisonnablement\ntout voyageur doit faire, pour se pr\u00e9parer aux fatigues d\u2019une journ\u00e9e\nde marche.\nMais ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas fini: le lendemain une grande multitude de gens du\npays, non seulement de ce village, mais de cent autres, se pr\u00e9senta\naux portes de la ville, et, d\u2019une fa\u00e7on fort insolente, demanda\nsatisfaction au gouverneur de l\u2019outrage fait \u00e0 leurs pr\u00eatres et \u00e0 leur\ngrand Cham-Chi-Thaungu; c\u2019\u00e9tait l\u00e0 le nom f\u00e9roce qu\u2019il donnait \u00e0 la\nmonstrueuse cr\u00e9ature qu\u2019ils adoraient. Les habitants de Nertzinskoy\nfurent d\u2019abord dans une grande consternation: ils disaient que les\nTartares \u00e9taient trente mille pour le moins, et qu\u2019avant peu de jours\nils seraient cent mille et au del\u00e0.\nLe gouverneur russien leur envoya des messagers pour les apaiser et\nleur donner toutes les bonnes paroles imaginables. Il les assura qu\u2019il\nne savait rien de l\u2019affaire; que pas un homme de la garnison n\u2019ayant\nmis le pied dehors, le coupable ne pouvait \u00eatre parmi eux; mais que\ns\u2019ils voulaient le lui faire conna\u00eetre, il serait exemplairement puni.\nIls r\u00e9pondirent hautainement que toute la contr\u00e9e r\u00e9v\u00e9rait le grand\nCham-Chi-Thaungu qui demeurait dans le soleil, et que nul mortel n\u2019e\u00fbt\nos\u00e9 outrager son image, hors quelque chr\u00e9tien m\u00e9cr\u00e9ant (ce fut l\u00e0 leur\nexpression, je crois), et qu\u2019ainsi ils lui d\u00e9claraient la guerre \u00e0 lui\net \u00e0 tous les Russiens, qui, disaient-ils, \u00e9taient des infid\u00e8les, des\nchr\u00e9tiens.\nLe gouverneur, toujours patient, ne voulant point de rupture, ni\nqu\u2019on p\u00fbt en rien l\u2019accuser d\u2019avoir provoqu\u00e9 la guerre, le Czar lui\nayant \u00e9troitement enjoint de traiter le pays conquis avec b\u00e9nignit\u00e9\net courtoisie, leur donna encore toutes les bonnes paroles possibles;\n\u00e0 la fin il leur dit qu\u2019une caravane \u00e9tait partie pour la Russie\nle matin m\u00eame, que quelqu\u2019un peut-\u00eatre des voyageurs leur avait\nfait cette injure, et que, s\u2019ils voulaient en avoir l\u2019assurance, il\nenverrait apr\u00e8s eux pour en informer. Ceci parut les apaiser un peu,\net le gouverneur nous d\u00e9p\u00eacha donc un courrier pour nous exposer\nl\u2019\u00e9tat des choses, en nous intimant que si quelques hommes de notre\ncaravane avaient fait le coup, ils feraient bien de se sauver, et,\ncoupables ou non, que nous ferions bien de nous avancer en toute h\u00e2te,\ntandis qu\u2019il les amuserait aussi longtemps qu\u2019il pourrait.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait tr\u00e8s obligeant de la part du gouverneur. Toutefois, lorsque\nla caravane fut instruite de ce message, personne n\u2019y comprit rien,\net quant \u00e0 nous qui \u00e9tions les coupables, nous f\u00fbmes les moins\nsoup\u00e7onn\u00e9s de tous: on ne nous fit pas seulement une question.\nN\u00e9anmoins le capitaine qui, pour le moment, commandait la caravane\nprofita de l\u2019avis que le gouverneur nous donnait, et nous march\u00e2mes\nou voyage\u00e2mes deux jours et deux nuits, presque sans nous arr\u00eater.\nEnfin nous nous repos\u00e2mes \u00e0 un village nomm\u00e9 Plothus; nous n\u2019y f\u00eemes\npas non plus une longue station, voulant gagner au plus t\u00f4t Jarawena,\nautre colonie du Czar de Moscovie o\u00f9 nous esp\u00e9rions \u00eatre en s\u00fbret\u00e9.\nUne chose \u00e0 remarquer, c\u2019est qu\u2019apr\u00e8s deux ou trois jours de marche\nau del\u00e0 de cette ville, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 entrer dans un vaste\nd\u00e9sert sans nom dont je parlerai plus au long en son lieu, et que si\nalors nous nous y fussions trouv\u00e9s, il est plus que probable que nous\naurions \u00e9t\u00e9 tous d\u00e9truits. Ce fut le lendemain de notre d\u00e9part de\nPlothus que des nuages de poussi\u00e8re qui s\u2019\u00e9levaient derri\u00e8re nous \u00e0\nune grande distance firent soup\u00e7onner \u00e0 quelques-uns des n\u00f4tres que\nnous \u00e9tions poursuivis. Nous \u00e9tions entr\u00e9s dans le d\u00e9sert, et nous\navions long\u00e9 un grand lac, appel\u00e9 Shanks-Oser, quand nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes un\ncorps nombreux de cavaliers de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 du lac vers le nord. Nous\nremarqu\u00e2mes qu\u2019ils se dirigeaient ainsi que nous vers l\u2019ouest, mais\nfort heureusement ils avaient suppos\u00e9 que nous avions pris la rive\nnord, tandis que nous avions pris la rive sud. Deux jours apr\u00e8s nous\nne les v\u00eemes plus, car, pensant que nous \u00e9tions toujours devant eux,\nils pouss\u00e8rent jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la rivi\u00e8re Udda: plus loin, vers le nord, c\u2019est\nun courant consid\u00e9rable, mais \u00e0 l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 nous la pass\u00e2mes, elle\nest \u00e9troite et gu\u00e9able.\nLe troisi\u00e8me jour, soit qu\u2019ils se fussent aper\u00e7us de leur m\u00e9prise,\nsoit qu\u2019ils eussent eu de nos nouvelles, ils revinrent sur nous ventre\n\u00e0 terre, \u00e0 la brune. Nous venions justement de choisir, \u00e0 notre\ngrande satisfaction, une place tr\u00e8s convenable pour camper pendant la\nnuit, car bien que nous ne fussions qu\u2019\u00e0 l\u2019entr\u00e9e d\u2019un d\u00e9sert dont\nla longueur \u00e9tait de plus de cinq cents milles, nous n\u2019avions point\nde villes o\u00f9 nous retirer, et par le fait nous n\u2019en avions d\u2019autre\n\u00e0 attendre que Jarawena, qui se trouvait encore \u00e0 deux journ\u00e9es de\nmarche. Ce d\u00e9sert, cependant, avait quelque peu de bois de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9,\net de petites rivi\u00e8res qui couraient toutes se jeter dans la grande\nrivi\u00e8re Udda. Dans un passage \u00e9troit entre deux bocages tr\u00e8s \u00e9pais\nnous avions assis notre camp pour cette nuit, redoutant une attaque\nnocturne.\nPersonne, except\u00e9 nous, ne savait pourquoi nous \u00e9tions poursuivis:\nmais, comme les Tartares-Mongols ont pour habitude de r\u00f4der en troupes\ndans ce d\u00e9sert, les caravanes ont coutume de se fortifier ainsi contre\neux chaque nuit, comme contre des arm\u00e9es de voleurs; cette poursuite\nn\u2019\u00e9tait donc pas chose nouvelle.\nOr nous avions cette nuit le camp le plus avantageux que nous eussions\njamais eu: nous \u00e9tions post\u00e9s entre deux bois, un petit ruisseau\ncoulait juste devant notre front, de sorte que nous ne pouvions \u00eatre\nenvelopp\u00e9s, et qu\u2019on ne pouvait nous attaquer que par devant ou par\nderri\u00e8re. Encore m\u00eemes-nous tous nos soins \u00e0 rendre notre front aussi\nfort que possible, en pla\u00e7ant nos bagages, nos chameaux et nos chevaux\ntous en ligne au bord du ruisseau: sur notre arri\u00e8re nous abatt\u00eemes\nquelques arbres.\nDans cet ordre nous nous \u00e9tablissions pour la nuit, mais les Tartares\nfurent sur nos bras avant que nous eussions achev\u00e9 notre campement.\nIls ne se jet\u00e8rent pas sur nous comme des brigands, ainsi que nous\nnous y attendions, mais ils nous envoy\u00e8rent trois messagers pour\ndemander qu\u2019on leur livr\u00e2t les hommes qui avaient bafou\u00e9 leurs pr\u00eatres\net br\u00fbl\u00e9 leur Dieu Cham-Chi-Thaungu, afin de les br\u00fbler, et sur ce\nils disaient qu\u2019ils se retireraient et ne nous feraient point de mal,\nautrement qu\u2019ils nous feraient tous p\u00e9rir dans les flammes. Nos gens\nparurent fort troubl\u00e9s \u00e0 ce message, et se mirent \u00e0 se regarder l\u2019un\nl\u2019autre entre les deux yeux pour voir si quelqu\u2019un avait le p\u00e9ch\u00e9\n\u00e9crit sur la face. Mais, personne! c\u2019\u00e9tait le mot, personne n\u2019avait\nfait cela. Le commandant de la caravane leur fit r\u00e9pondre qu\u2019il \u00e9tait\nbien s\u00fbr que pas un des n\u00f4tres n\u2019\u00e9tait coupable de cet outrage; que\nnous \u00e9tions de paisibles marchands voyageant pour nos affaires; que\nnous n\u2019avions fait de dommage ni \u00e0 eux ni \u00e0 qui que ce f\u00fbt; qu\u2019ils\ndevaient chercher plus loin ces ennemis qui les avaient injuri\u00e9s, car\nnous n\u2019\u00e9tions pas ces gens-l\u00e0; et qu\u2019il les priait de ne pas nous\ntroubler, sinon que nous saurions nous d\u00e9fendre.\n[Illustration: Ils nous envoy\u00e8rent trois messagers...]\nCette r\u00e9ponse fut loin de les satisfaire, et le matin, \u00e0 la pointe du\njour, une foule immense s\u2019avan\u00e7a vers notre camp; mais en nous voyant\ndans une si avantageuse position, ils n\u2019os\u00e8rent pas pousser plus\navant que le ruisseau qui barrait notre front, o\u00f9 ils s\u2019arr\u00eat\u00e8rent,\net d\u00e9ploy\u00e8rent de telles forces, que nous en f\u00fbmes atterr\u00e9s au plus\nhaut point; ceux d\u2019entre nous qui en parlaient le plus modestement,\ndisaient qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient dix mille. L\u00e0, ils firent une pause et nous\nregard\u00e8rent un moment; puis, poussant un affreux hourra, ils nous\nd\u00e9coch\u00e8rent une nu\u00e9e de fl\u00e8ches. Mais nous \u00e9tions trop bien \u00e0 couvert,\nnos bagages nous abritaient, et je ne me souviens pas que parmi nous\nun seul homme f\u00fbt bless\u00e9.\nQuelque temps apr\u00e8s, nous les v\u00eemes faire un petit mouvement \u00e0 notre\ndroite, et nous les attendions sur notre arri\u00e8re, quand un rus\u00e9\ncompagnon, un Cosaque de Jarawena, aux gages des Moscovites, appela le\ncommandant de la caravane et lui dit:\u2014\u00abJe vais envoyer cette engeance\n\u00e0 Sibeilka.\u00bb\u2014C\u2019\u00e9tait une ville \u00e0 quatre ou cinq journ\u00e9es de marche au\nmoins, vers le sud, ou plut\u00f4t derri\u00e8re nous. Il prend donc son arc\net ses fl\u00e8ches, saute \u00e0 cheval, s\u2019\u00e9loigne de notre arri\u00e8re au galop,\ncomme s\u2019il retournait \u00e0 Nertzinskoy, puis faisant un grand circuit, il\nrejoint l\u2019arm\u00e9e des Tartares comme s\u2019il \u00e9tait un expr\u00e8s envoy\u00e9 pour\nleur faire savoir tout particuli\u00e8rement que les gens qui avaient br\u00fbl\u00e9\nleur Cham-Chi-Thaungu \u00e9taient partis pour Sibeilka avec une caravane\nde m\u00e9cr\u00e9ants, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de chr\u00e9tiens, r\u00e9solus qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient de\nbr\u00fbler le Dieu Scal-Isarg, appartenant aux Tongouses.\nComme ce dr\u00f4le \u00e9tait un vrai Tartare et qu\u2019il parlait parfaitement\nleur langage, il feignit si bien, qu\u2019ils aval\u00e8rent tout cela et se\nmirent en route en toute h\u00e2te pour Sibeilka, qui \u00e9tait, ce me semble,\n\u00e0 cinq journ\u00e9es de marche vers le sud. En moins de trois heures ils\nfurent enti\u00e8rement hors de notre vue, nous n\u2019en entend\u00eemes plus\nparler, et nous n\u2019avons jamais su s\u2019ils all\u00e8rent ou non jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce\nlieu nomm\u00e9 Sibeilka.\nNous gagn\u00e2mes ainsi sans danger la ville de Jarawena, o\u00f9 il y avait\nune garnison de Moscovites, et nous y demeur\u00e2mes cinq jours, la\ncaravane se trouvant extr\u00eamement fatigu\u00e9e de sa derni\u00e8re marche et de\nson manque de repos durant la nuit.\nAu sortir de cette ville, nous e\u00fbmes \u00e0 passer un affreux d\u00e9sert qui\nnous retint vingt-trois jours. Nous nous \u00e9tions munis de quelques\ntentes pour notre plus grande commodit\u00e9 pendant la nuit, et le\ncommandant de la caravane s\u2019\u00e9tait procur\u00e9 seize chariots ou fourgons\ndu pays pour porter notre eau et nos provisions. Ces chariots,\nrang\u00e9s chaque nuit tout autour de notre camp, nous servaient de\nretranchement; de sorte que, si les Tartares se fussent montr\u00e9s, \u00e0\nmoins d\u2019\u00eatre en tr\u00e8s grand nombre, ils n\u2019auraient pu nous toucher.\nOn croira facilement que nous e\u00fbmes grand besoin de repos apr\u00e8s ce\nlong trajet; car dans ce d\u00e9sert nous ne v\u00eemes ni maisons ni arbres.\nNous y trouv\u00e2mes \u00e0 peine quelques buissons, mais nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes en\nrevanche une grande quantit\u00e9 de chasseurs de zibelines; ce sont\ntous des Tartares de la Mongolie dont cette contr\u00e9e fait partie.\nIls attaquent fr\u00e9quemment les petites caravanes, mais nous n\u2019en\nrencontr\u00e2mes point en grande troupe. J\u2019\u00e9tais curieux de voir les peaux\ndes zibelines qu\u2019ils chassaient; mais je ne pus me mettre en rapport\navec aucun d\u2019eux, car ils n\u2019osaient pas s\u2019approcher de nous, et je\nn\u2019osais pas moi-m\u00eame m\u2019\u00e9carter de la compagnie pour les joindre.\nApr\u00e8s avoir travers\u00e9 ce d\u00e9sert, nous entr\u00e2mes dans une contr\u00e9e assez\nbien peupl\u00e9e, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire o\u00f9 nous trouv\u00e2mes des villes et des\nch\u00e2teaux \u00e9lev\u00e9s par le Czar de Moscovie, avec des garnisons de soldats\nstationnaires pour prot\u00e9ger les caravanes, et d\u00e9fendre le pays contre\nles Tartares, qui autrement rendraient la route tr\u00e8s dangereuse. Et\nsa majest\u00e9 Czarienne a donn\u00e9 des ordres si stricts pour la s\u00fbret\u00e9\ndes caravanes et des marchands que, si on entend parler de quelques\nTartares dans le pays, des d\u00e9tachements de la garnison sont de suite\nenvoy\u00e9s pour escorter les voyageurs de station en station.\nAussi le gouverneur d\u2019Adinskoy, auquel j\u2019eus occasion de rendre\nvisite, avec le marchand \u00e9cossais qui \u00e9tait li\u00e9 avec lui, nous\noffrit-il une escorte de cinquante hommes, si nous pensions qu\u2019il y\ne\u00fbt quelque danger, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la prochaine station.\nLongtemps je m\u2019\u00e9tais imagin\u00e9 qu\u2019en approchant de l\u2019Europe, nous\ntrouverions le pays mieux peupl\u00e9 et le peuple plus civilis\u00e9; je\nm\u2019\u00e9tais doublement tromp\u00e9, car nous avions encore \u00e0 traverser la\nnation des Tongouses, o\u00f9 nous v\u00eemes des marques de paganisme et\nde barbarie pour le moins aussi grossi\u00e8res que celles qui nous\navaient frapp\u00e9s pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment; seulement, comme ces Tongouses ont \u00e9t\u00e9\nassujettis par les Moscovites, et enti\u00e8rement r\u00e9duits, ils ne sont\npas tr\u00e8s dangereux; mais, en fait de rudesse de m\u0153urs, d\u2019idol\u00e2trie\net de polyth\u00e9isme, jamais peuple au monde ne les surpassa. Ils sont\ncouverts de peaux de b\u00eates, aussi bien que leurs maisons, et, \u00e0 leur\nmine r\u00e9barbative, \u00e0 leur costume, vous ne distingueriez pas un homme\nd\u2019avec une femme. Durant l\u2019hiver, quand la terre est couverte de\nneige, ils vivent sous terre, dans des esp\u00e8ces de repaires vo\u00fbt\u00e9s dont\nles cavit\u00e9s ou cavernes se communiquent entre elles.\nSi les Tartares avaient leur Cham-Chi-Thaungu pour tout un village ou\ntoute une contr\u00e9e, ceux-ci avaient des idoles dans chaque hutte et\ndans chaque cave. En outre ils adorent les \u00e9toiles, le soleil, l\u2019eau,\nla neige, et en un mot tout ce qu\u2019ils ne comprennent pas, et ils ne\ncomprennent pas grand\u2019chose; de sorte qu\u2019\u00e0 tous les \u00e9l\u00e9ments et \u00e0\npresque tous les objets extraordinaires ils offrent des sacrifices.\nMais je ne dois faire la description d\u2019un peuple ou d\u2019une contr\u00e9e\nqu\u2019autant que cela se rattache \u00e0 ma propre histoire.\u2014Il ne m\u2019arriva\nrien de particulier dans ce pays, que j\u2019estime \u00e9loign\u00e9 de plus de\nquatre cents milles du dernier d\u00e9sert dont j\u2019ai parl\u00e9, et dont la\nmoiti\u00e9 m\u00eame est aussi un d\u00e9sert, o\u00f9 nous march\u00e2mes rudement pendant\ndouze jours sans rencontrer une maison, un arbre, une broussaille, et\no\u00f9 nous f\u00fbmes encore oblig\u00e9s de porter avec nous nos provisions, l\u2019eau\ncomme le pain. Apr\u00e8s \u00eatre sortis de ce steppe, nous parv\u00eenmes en deux\njours \u00e0 Y\u00e9niss\u00e9isk, ville ou station moscovite sur le grand fleuve\nY\u00e9niss\u00e9i. Ce fleuve, nous fut-il dit, s\u00e9pare l\u2019Europe de l\u2019Asie,\nquoique nos faiseurs de cartes, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019on m\u2019a rapport\u00e9, n\u2019en tombent\npas d\u2019accord. N\u2019importe, ce qu\u2019il y a de certain, c\u2019est qu\u2019il borne \u00e0\nl\u2019orient l\u2019ancienne Sib\u00e9rie, qui aujourd\u2019hui ne forme qu\u2019une province\ndu vaste empire moscovite, bien qu\u2019elle soit aussi grande que l\u2019empire\ngermanique tout entier.\nJe remarquai que l\u2019ignorance et le paganisme pr\u00e9valaient encore,\nexcept\u00e9 dans les garnisons moscovites: toute la contr\u00e9e entre le\nfleuve Oby et le fleuve Y\u00e9niss\u00e9i est enti\u00e8rement pa\u00efenne, et les\nhabitants sont aussi barbares que les Tartares les plus recul\u00e9s, m\u00eame\nqu\u2019aucune nation que je sache de l\u2019Asie ou de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique. Je remarquai\naussi, ce que je fis observer aux gouverneurs moscovites avec lesquels\nj\u2019eus occasion de converser, que ces pa\u00efens, pour \u00eatre sous le\ngouvernement moscovite, n\u2019en \u00e9taient ni plus sages ni plus pr\u00e8s du\nchristianisme. Mais, tout en reconnaissant que c\u2019\u00e9tait assez vrai, ils\nr\u00e9pondaient que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas leur affaire; que si le Czar s\u2019\u00e9tait\npromis de convertir ses sujets sib\u00e9riens, tongouses ou tartares, il\naurait envoy\u00e9 parmi eux des pr\u00eatres et non pas des soldats, et ils\najoutaient, avec plus de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 que je ne m\u2019y serais attendu, que\nle grand souci de leur monarque n\u2019\u00e9tait pas de faire de ces peuples\ndes chr\u00e9tiens, mais des sujets.\nDepuis ce fleuve jusqu\u2019au fleuve Oby, nous travers\u00e2mes une contr\u00e9e\nsauvage et inculte; je ne saurais dire que ce soit un sol st\u00e9rile,\nc\u2019est seulement un sol qui manque de bras et d\u2019une bonne exploitation,\ncar autrement c\u2019est un pays charmant, tr\u00e8s fertile et tr\u00e8s agr\u00e9able\nen soi. Les quelques habitants que nous y trouv\u00e2mes \u00e9taient tous\npa\u00efens, except\u00e9 ceux qu\u2019on y avait envoy\u00e9s de Russie; car c\u2019est dans\ncette contr\u00e9e, j\u2019entends sur les rives de l\u2019Oby, que sont bannis les\ncriminels moscovites qui ne sont point condamn\u00e9s \u00e0 mort: une fois l\u00e0,\nil est presque impossible qu\u2019ils en sortent.\nJe n\u2019ai rien d\u2019essentiel \u00e0 dire sur mon compte jusqu\u2019\u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e \u00e0\nTobolsk, capitale de la Sib\u00e9rie, o\u00f9 je s\u00e9journai assez longtemps pour\nles raisons suivantes.\nIl y avait alors pr\u00e8s de sept mois que nous \u00e9tions en route et\nl\u2019hiver approchait rapidement: dans cette conjoncture, sur nos\naffaires priv\u00e9es, mon partner et moi, nous t\u00eenmes donc un conseil,\no\u00f9 nous juge\u00e2mes \u00e0 propos, attendu que nous devions nous rendre en\nAngleterre et non pas \u00e0 Moscou, de consid\u00e9rer le parti qu\u2019il nous\nfallait prendre. On nous avait parl\u00e9 de tra\u00eeneaux et de rennes pour\nnous transporter sur la neige pendant l\u2019hiver; et c\u2019est tout de bon\nque les Russiens font usage de pareils v\u00e9hicules, dont les d\u00e9tails\nsembleraient incroyables si je les rapportais, et au moyen desquels\nils voyagent beaucoup plus dans la saison froide qu\u2019ils ne sauraient\nvoyager en \u00e9t\u00e9, parce que dans ces tra\u00eeneaux ils peuvent courir nuit\net jour: une neige congel\u00e9e couvrant alors toute la nature, les\nmontagnes, les vall\u00e9es, les rivi\u00e8res, les lacs n\u2019offrent plus qu\u2019une\nsurface unie et dure comme la pierre, sur laquelle ils courent sans se\nmettre nullement en peine de ce qui est dessous.\nMais je n\u2019eus pas occasion de faire un voyage de ce genre.\u2014Comme je\nme rendais en Angleterre et non pas \u00e0 Moscou, j\u2019avais deux routes \u00e0\nprendre: il me fallait aller avec la caravane jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Jaroslav, puis\ntourner vers l\u2019ouest, pour gagner Narva et le golfe de Finlande, et,\nsoit par mer, soit par terre, Dantzig, o\u00f9 ma cargaison de marchandises\nchinoises devait se vendre avantageusement; ou bien il me fallait\nlaisser la caravane \u00e0 une petite ville sur la Dvina, d\u2019o\u00f9 par eau\nje pouvais gagner en six jours Arkhangel, et de l\u00e0 faire voile pour\nl\u2019Angleterre, la Hollande ou Hambourg.\nToutefois il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 absurde d\u2019entreprendre l\u2019un ou l\u2019autre de ces\nvoyages pendant l\u2019hiver: si je me fusse d\u00e9cid\u00e9 pour Dantzig, la\nBaltique en cette saison est gel\u00e9e, tout passage m\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ferm\u00e9,\net par terre il est bien moins s\u00fbr de voyager dans ces contr\u00e9es que\nparmi les Tartares-Mongols. D\u2019un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, si je me fusse rendu \u00e0\nArkhangel en octobre, j\u2019eusse trouv\u00e9 tous les navires partis, et m\u00eame\nles marchands qui ne s\u2019y tiennent que l\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9, et l\u2019hiver se retirent \u00e0\nMoscou, vers le sud, apr\u00e8s le d\u00e9part des vaisseaux. Un froid excessif,\nla disette, et la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de rester tout l\u2019hiver dans une ville\nd\u00e9serte, c\u2019est l\u00e0 tout ce que j\u2019eusse pu esp\u00e9rer y rencontrer. En\nd\u00e9finitive, je pensai donc que le mieux \u00e9tait de laisser partir la\ncaravane, et de faire mes dispositions pour hiverner \u00e0 l\u2019endroit o\u00f9 je\nme trouvais, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 Tobolsk en Sib\u00e9rie, par une latitude de 60\ndegr\u00e9s; l\u00e0, du moins, pour passer un hiver rigoureux, je pouvais faire\nfond sur trois choses, savoir: l\u2019abondance de toutes les provisions\nque fournit le pays, une maison chaude avec des combustibles en\nsuffisance, et une excellente compagnie. De tout ceci, je parlerai\nplus au long en son lieu.\nJ\u2019\u00e9tais alors dans un climat enti\u00e8rement diff\u00e9rent de mon \u00eele\nbien-aim\u00e9e, o\u00f9 je n\u2019eus jamais froid que dans mes acc\u00e8s de fi\u00e8vre,\no\u00f9 tout au contraire j\u2019avais peine \u00e0 endurer des habits sur mon\ndos, o\u00f9 je ne faisais jamais de feu que dehors, et pour pr\u00e9parer ma\nnourriture: aussi \u00e9tais-je emmitoufl\u00e9 dans trois bonnes vestes avec de\ngrandes robes par-dessus, descendant jusqu\u2019aux pieds et se boutonnant\nau poignet, toutes doubl\u00e9es de fourrures pour les rendre suffisamment\nchaudes.\nJ\u2019avoue que je d\u00e9sapprouve fort notre mani\u00e8re de chauffer les maisons\nen Angleterre, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de faire du feu dans chaque chambre, dans\ndes chemin\u00e9es ouvertes, qui, d\u00e8s que le feu est \u00e9teint, laissent\nl\u2019air int\u00e9rieur aussi froid que la temp\u00e9rature. Apr\u00e8s avoir pris\nun appartement dans une bonne maison de la ville, au centre de six\nchambres diff\u00e9rentes je fis construire une chemin\u00e9e en forme de\nfourneau, semblable \u00e0 un po\u00eale; le tuyau pour le passage de la fum\u00e9e\n\u00e9tait d\u2019un c\u00f4t\u00e9, la porte ouvrant sur le foyer d\u2019un autre; toutes les\nchambres \u00e9taient \u00e9galement chauff\u00e9es, sans qu\u2019on v\u00eet aucun feu, juste\ncomme sont chauff\u00e9s les bains en Angleterre.\nPar ce moyen nous avions toujours la m\u00eame temp\u00e9rature dans tout le\nlogement, et une chaleur \u00e9gale se conservait. Quelque froid qu\u2019il fit\ndehors, il faisait toujours chaud dedans; cependant on ne voyait point\nde feu, et l\u2019on n\u2019\u00e9tait jamais incommod\u00e9 par la fum\u00e9e.\nMais la chose la plus merveilleuse, c\u2019\u00e9tait qu\u2019il f\u00fbt possible de\ntrouver bonne compagnie, dans une contr\u00e9e aussi barbare que les\nparties les plus septentrionales de l\u2019Europe, dans une contr\u00e9e proche\nde la mer Glaciale, et \u00e0 peu de degr\u00e9s de la Nouvelle-Zemble.\nCependant, comme c\u2019est dans ce pays, ainsi que je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait\nremarquer, que sont bannis les criminels d\u2019\u00c9tat moscovites, la ville\n\u00e9tait pleine de gens de qualit\u00e9, de princes, de gentilshommes, de\ncolonels, en un mot, de nobles de tout rang, de soldats de tout grade,\net de courtisans. Il y avait le fameux prince Galiffken ou Galoffken,\nson fils le fameux g\u00e9n\u00e9ral Robostisky, plusieurs autres personnages de\nmarque, et quelques dames de haut parage.\nPar l\u2019interm\u00e9diaire de mon n\u00e9gociant \u00e9cossais, qui toutefois\nici se s\u00e9para de moi, je fis connaissance avec plusieurs de ces\ngentilshommes, avec quelques-uns m\u00eame du premier ordre, et de qui,\ndans les longues soir\u00e9es d\u2019hiver pendant lesquelles je restais au\nlogis, je re\u00e7us d\u2019agr\u00e9ables visites. Ce fut causant un soir avec un\ncertain prince banni, un des ex-ministres d\u2019\u00c9tat du Czar, que la\nconversation tomba sur mon chapitre. Comme il me racontait une foule\nde belles choses sur la grandeur, la magnificence, les possessions\net le pouvoir absolu de l\u2019Empereur des Russiens, je l\u2019interrompis et\nlui dis que j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 un prince plus grand et plus puissant que le\nCzar de Moscovie, quoique mes \u00c9tats ne fussent pas si \u00e9tendus, ni\nmes peuples si nombreux. A ce coup, le seigneur russien eut l\u2019air un\npeu surpris, et, tenant ses yeux attach\u00e9s sur moi, il commen\u00e7a de\ns\u2019\u00e9tonner de ce que j\u2019avan\u00e7ais.\nJe lui dis que son \u00e9tonnement cesserait quand je me serais expliqu\u00e9.\nD\u2019abord je lui contai que j\u2019avais \u00e0 mon enti\u00e8re disposition la vie\net la fortune de mes sujets; que, nonobstant mon pouvoir absolu,\nje n\u2019avais pas eu un seul individu m\u00e9content de mon gouvernement\nou de ma personne dans toutes mes possessions. L\u00e0-dessus il secoua\nla t\u00eate, et me dit qu\u2019en cela je surpassais tout de bon le Czar de\nMoscovie. Me reprenant, j\u2019ajoutai que toutes les terres de mon royaume\nm\u2019appartenaient en propre; que tous mes sujets \u00e9taient non seulement\nmes tenanciers, mais mes tenanciers \u00e0 volont\u00e9; qu\u2019ils se seraient\ntous battus pour moi jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re goutte de leur sang, et\nque jamais tyran, car pour tel je me reconnaissais, n\u2019avait \u00e9t\u00e9 si\nuniversellement aim\u00e9, et cependant si horriblement redout\u00e9 de ses\nsujets.\nApr\u00e8s avoir amus\u00e9 quelque temps la compagnie de ces \u00e9nigmes\ngouvernementales, je lui en dis le mot, je lui fis au long l\u2019histoire\nde ma vie dans l\u2019\u00eele, et de la mani\u00e8re dont je m\u2019y gouvernais et\ngouvernais le peuple rang\u00e9 sous moi, juste comme je l\u2019ai r\u00e9dig\u00e9\ndepuis. On fut excessivement touch\u00e9 de cette histoire, et surtout\nle prince, qui me dit, avec un soupir, que la v\u00e9ritable grandeur\nici-bas \u00e9tait d\u2019\u00eatre son propre ma\u00eetre; qu\u2019il n\u2019aurait pas \u00e9chang\u00e9 une\ncondition telle que la mienne, contre celle du Czar de Moscovie; qu\u2019il\ntrouvait plus de f\u00e9licit\u00e9 dans la retraite \u00e0 laquelle il semblait\ncondamn\u00e9 en cet exil qu\u2019il n\u2019en avait jamais trouv\u00e9 dans la plus\nhaute autorit\u00e9 dont il avait joui \u00e0 la cour de son ma\u00eetre le Czar;\nque le comble de la sagesse humaine \u00e9tait de ployer notre humeur aux\ncirconstances, et de nous faire un calme int\u00e9rieur sous le poids des\nplus grandes temp\u00eates.\u2014\u00abIci, poursuivit-il, au commencement de mon\nbannissement, je pleurais, je m\u2019arrachais les cheveux, je d\u00e9chirais\nmes habits, comme tant d\u2019autres avaient fait avant moi, mais amen\u00e9\napr\u00e8s un peu de temps et de r\u00e9flexion \u00e0 regarder au dedans de moi,\net \u00e0 jeter les yeux autour de moi sur les choses ext\u00e9rieures, je\ntrouvai que, s\u2019il est une fois conduit \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur la vie, sur\nle peu d\u2019influence qu\u2019a le monde sur le v\u00e9ritable bonheur, l\u2019esprit\nde l\u2019homme est parfaitement capable de se cr\u00e9er une f\u00e9licit\u00e9 \u00e0 lui,\nle satisfaisant pleinement et s\u2019alliant \u00e0 ses meilleurs desseins\net \u00e0 ses plus nobles d\u00e9sirs, son grand besoin de l\u2019assistance du\nmonde. De l\u2019air pour respirer, de la nourriture pour soutenir la vie,\ndes v\u00eatements pour avoir chaud, la libert\u00e9 de prendre l\u2019exercice\nn\u00e9cessaire \u00e0 la sant\u00e9, compl\u00e8tent dans mon opinion tout ce que le\nmonde peut faire pour nous. La grandeur, la puissance, les richesses\net les plaisirs dont quelques-uns jouissent ici-bas, et dont pour\nma part j\u2019ai joui, sont pleins d\u2019attraits pour nous, mais toutes\nces choses l\u00e2chent la bride \u00e0 nos plus mauvaises passions, \u00e0 notre\nambition, \u00e0 notre orgueil, \u00e0 notre avarice, \u00e0 notre vanit\u00e9, \u00e0 notre\nsensualit\u00e9, passions qui proc\u00e8dent de ce qu\u2019il y a de pire dans la\nnature de l\u2019homme, qui sont des crimes en elles-m\u00eames, qui renferment\nla semence de toutes esp\u00e8ces de crimes, et n\u2019ont aucun rapport, et ne\nse rattachent en rien ni aux vertus qui constituent l\u2019homme sage, ni\naux gr\u00e2ces qui nous distinguent comme chr\u00e9tiens. Priv\u00e9 que je suis\naujourd\u2019hui de toute cette f\u00e9licit\u00e9 imaginaire que je go\u00fbtais dans la\npratique de tous ces vices, je me trouve \u00e0 m\u00eame de porter mes regards\nsur leur c\u00f4t\u00e9 sombre, o\u00f9 je n\u2019entrevois que difformit\u00e9s. Je suis\nmaintenant convaincu que la vertu seule fait l\u2019homme vraiment sage,\nriche, grand, et le retient dans la voie qui conduit \u00e0 un bonheur\nsupr\u00eame, dans une vie future; et, en cela, ne suis-je pas plus heureux\ndans mon exil que ne le sont mes ennemis en pleine possession des\nbiens et du pouvoir que je leur ai abandonn\u00e9s?\u00bb\n\u00abSir, ajouta-t-il, je n\u2019am\u00e8ne point mon esprit \u00e0 cela par politique,\nme soumettant \u00e0 la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de ma condition, que quelques-uns\nappellent mis\u00e9rable. Non, si je ne m\u2019abuse pas trop sur moi-m\u00eame, je\nne voudrais pas m\u2019en retourner; non, quand bien m\u00eame le Czar, mon\nma\u00eetre, me rappellerait et m\u2019offrirait de me r\u00e9tablir dans toute ma\ngrandeur pass\u00e9e; non, dis-je, je ne voudrais pas m\u2019en retourner, pas\nplus que mon \u00e2me, je pense, quand elle sera d\u00e9livr\u00e9e de sa prison\ncorporelle, et aura go\u00fbt\u00e9 la f\u00e9licit\u00e9 glorieuse qu\u2019elle doit trouver\nau del\u00e0 de la vie, ne voudra retourner \u00e0 la ge\u00f4le de chair et de sang\nqui l\u2019enferme aujourd\u2019hui, et abandonner les cieux pour se replonger\ndans la fange et l\u2019ordure des affaires humaines.\u00bb\nIl pronon\u00e7a ces paroles avec tant de chaleur et d\u2019effusion, tant\nd\u2019\u00e9motion se trahissait dans son maintien qu\u2019il \u00e9tait visible que\nc\u2019\u00e9taient l\u00e0 les vrais sentiments de son \u00e2me. Impossible de mettre en\ndoute sa sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9.\nJe lui r\u00e9pondis qu\u2019autrefois, dans mon ancienne condition dont\nje venais de lui faire la peinture, je m\u2019\u00e9tais cru une esp\u00e8ce de\nmonarque, mais que je pensais qu\u2019il \u00e9tait, lui, non seulement un\nmonarque, mais un grand conqu\u00e9rant; car celui qui remporte la victoire\nsur ses d\u00e9sirs excessifs, qui a un empire absolu sur lui-m\u00eame, et\ndont la raison gouverne enti\u00e8rement la volont\u00e9, est certainement\nplus grand que celui qui conquiert une ville.\u2014\u00abMais, mylord,\najoutai-je, oserais-je vous faire une question?\u00bb\u2014\u00abDe tout mon c\u0153ur,\u00bb\nr\u00e9pondit-il.\u2014\u00abSi la porte de votre libert\u00e9 \u00e9tait ouverte, repris-je,\nne saisiriez-vous pas cette occasion de vous d\u00e9livrer de cet exil?\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abAttendez, dit-il, votre question est subtile, elle demande de\ns\u00e9rieuses et d\u2019exactes distinctions pour y donner une r\u00e9ponse sinc\u00e8re,\net je veux vous mettre mon c\u0153ur \u00e0 jour. Rien au monde, que je sache,\nne pourrait me porter \u00e0 me d\u00e9livrer de cet \u00e9tat de bannissement, sinon\nces deux choses: premi\u00e8rement ma famille, et secondement un climat un\npeu plus doux. Mais je vous proteste que pour retourner aux pompes de\nla cour, \u00e0 la gloire, au pouvoir, aux tracas d\u2019un ministre d\u2019\u00c9tat, \u00e0\nl\u2019opulence, au faste et aux plaisirs, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire aux folies d\u2019un\ncourtisan, si mon ma\u00eetre m\u2019envoyait aujourd\u2019hui la nouvelle qu\u2019il me\nrend tout ce dont il m\u2019a d\u00e9pouill\u00e9, je vous proteste, dis-je, si je\nme connais bien, que je ne voudrais pas abandonner ce d\u00e9sert, ces\nsolitudes, et ces lacs glac\u00e9s pour le palais de Moscou.\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abMais, mylord, repris-je, peut-\u00eatre n\u2019\u00eates-vous pas seulement banni\ndes plaisirs de la cour, du pouvoir, de l\u2019autorit\u00e9 et de l\u2019opulence\ndont vous jouissiez autrefois, vous pouvez \u00eatre aussi priv\u00e9 de\nquelques-unes des commodit\u00e9s de la vie; vos terres sont peut-\u00eatre\nconfisqu\u00e9es, vos biens pill\u00e9s, et ce qui vous est laiss\u00e9 ici ne suffit\npeut-\u00eatre pas aux besoins ordinaires de la vie?\u00bb\n\u2014\u00abOui, me r\u00e9pliqua-t-il, si vous me consid\u00e9rez comme un seigneur ou un\nprince, comme dans le fait je le suis; mais veuillez ne voir en moi\nsimplement qu\u2019un homme, une cr\u00e9ature humaine, que rien ne distingue\nd\u2019avec la foule, et il vous sera \u00e9vident que je ne puis sentir\naucun besoin, \u00e0 moins que je ne sois visit\u00e9 par quelque maladie ou\nquelque infirmit\u00e9. Pour mettre toutefois la question hors de doute,\nvoyez notre mani\u00e8re de vivre: nous sommes en cette ville cinq grands\npersonnages; nous vivons tout \u00e0 fait retir\u00e9s, comme il convient \u00e0 des\ngens en exil. Nous avons sauv\u00e9 quelque chose du naufrage de notre\nfortune, qui nous met au-dessus de la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de chasser pour notre\nsubsistance; mais les pauvres soldats qui sont ici, et qui n\u2019ont point\nnos ressources, vivent dans une aussi grande abondance que nous. Ils\nvont dans les bois chasser les zibelines et les renards: le travail\nd\u2019un mois fournit \u00e0 leur entretien pendant un an. Comme notre genre de\nvie n\u2019est pas co\u00fbteux, il nous est ais\u00e9 de nous procurer ce qu\u2019il nous\nfaut: donc votre objection est d\u00e9truite.\u00bb\nLa place me manque pour rapporter tout au long la conversation on ne\npeut plus agr\u00e9able que j\u2019eus avec cet homme v\u00e9ritablement grand, et\ndans laquelle son esprit laissa para\u00eetre une si haute connaissance des\nchoses, soutenue tout \u00e0 la fois et par la religion et par une profonde\nsagesse, qu\u2019il est hors de doute que son m\u00e9pris pour le monde ne f\u00fbt\naussi grand qu\u2019il l\u2019exprimait. Et jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la fin il se montra toujours\nle m\u00eame, comme on verra par ce qui suit.\nJe passai huit mois \u00e0 Tobolsk. Que l\u2019hiver me parut sombre et\nterrible! Le froid \u00e9tait si intense que je ne pouvais pas seulement\nregarder dehors sans \u00eatre envelopp\u00e9 dans des pelleteries et sans avoir\nsur le visage un masque de fourrure ou plut\u00f4t un capuchon, avec un\ntrou simplement pour la bouche et deux trous pour les yeux. Le faible\njour que nous e\u00fbmes pendant trois mois ne durait pas, calcul fait,\nau del\u00e0 de cinq heures, six tout au plus; seulement le sol \u00e9tant\ncontinuellement couvert de neige et le temps assez clair, l\u2019obscurit\u00e9\nn\u2019\u00e9tait jamais profonde. Nos chevaux \u00e9taient gard\u00e9s ou plut\u00f4t affam\u00e9s\nsous terre, et quant \u00e0 nos valets, car nous en avions lou\u00e9 pour\nprendre soin de nous et de nos montures, il nous fallait \u00e0 chaque\ninstant panser et faire d\u00e9geler leurs doigts ou leurs orteils, de peur\nqu\u2019ils ne restassent perclus.\nDans l\u2019int\u00e9rieur, \u00e0 vrai dire, nous avions chaud, les maisons \u00e9tant\ncloses, les murailles \u00e9paisses, les ouvertures petites, et les\nvitrages doubles. Notre nourriture consistait principalement en\nchair de daim sal\u00e9e et appr\u00eat\u00e9e dans la saison, en assez bon pain,\nmais pr\u00e9par\u00e9 comme du biscuit, en poisson sec de toute sorte, en\nviande de mouton et en viande de buffle, assez bonne esp\u00e8ce de b\u0153uf.\nToutes les provisions pour l\u2019hiver sont amass\u00e9es pendant l\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9, et\nparfaitement conserv\u00e9es. Nous avions pour boisson de l\u2019eau m\u00eal\u00e9e avec\nde l\u2019_aqua-vit\u00e6_ au lieu de brandevin, et pour r\u00e9gal, en place de\nvin, de l\u2019hydromel: ils en ont vraiment de d\u00e9licieux. Les chasseurs,\nqui s\u2019aventurent dehors par tous les temps, nous apportaient\nfr\u00e9quemment de la venaison fra\u00eeche, tr\u00e8s grasse et tr\u00e8s bonne, et\nquelquefois de la chair d\u2019ours, mais nous ne faisions pas grand cas\nde cette derni\u00e8re. Gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 la bonne provision de th\u00e9 que nous avions,\nnous pouvions r\u00e9galer nos amis, et apr\u00e8s tout, toutes choses bien\nconsid\u00e9r\u00e9es, nous vivions tr\u00e8s gaiement et tr\u00e8s bien.\n[Illustration: Les chasseurs nous apportaient de la venaison...]\nNous \u00e9tions alors au mois de mars, les jours croissaient sensiblement\net la temp\u00e9rature devenait au moins supportable; aussi les autres\nvoyageurs commen\u00e7aient-ils \u00e0 pr\u00e9parer les tra\u00eeneaux qui devaient les\ntransporter sur la neige, et \u00e0 tout disposer pour leur d\u00e9part; mais\nnotre dessein de gagner Arkhangel, et non Moscou ou la Baltique, \u00e9tant\nbien arr\u00eat\u00e9, je ne bougeai pas. Je savais que les navires du sud ne\nse mettent en route pour cette partie du monde qu\u2019au mois de mai ou\nde juin, et que si j\u2019y arrivais au commencement d\u2019ao\u00fbt, j\u2019y serais\navant qu\u2019aucun b\u00e2timent f\u00fbt pr\u00eat \u00e0 reprendre la mer. Je ne m\u2019empressai\ndonc nullement de partir comme les autres, et je vis une multitude de\ngens, je dirai m\u00eame tous les voyageurs, quitter la ville avant moi.\nIl para\u00eet que tous les ans ils se rendent \u00e0 Moscou pour trafiquer,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire pour y porter leurs pelleteries et les \u00e9changer contre\nles articles de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 dont ils ont besoin pour leurs magasins.\nD\u2019autres aussi vont pour le m\u00eame objet \u00e0 Arkhangel. Mais comme ils ont\nplus de huit cents milles \u00e0 faire pour revenir chez eux, ceux qui s\u2019y\nrendirent cette ann\u00e9e-l\u00e0 partirent de m\u00eame avant moi.\nBref, dans la seconde quinzaine de mai, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m\u2019occuper de\nmes malles, et tandis que j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 cette besogne, il me vint dans\nl\u2019esprit de me demander pourquoi tous ces gens bannis en Sib\u00e9rie par\nle Czar, mais, une fois arriv\u00e9s l\u00e0, laiss\u00e9s libres d\u2019aller o\u00f9 bon\nleur semble, ne gagnaient pas quelque autre endroit du monde \u00e0 leur\ngr\u00e9. Et je me pris \u00e0 examiner ce qui pouvait les d\u00e9tourner de cette\ntentative.\nMais mon \u00e9tonnement cessa quand j\u2019en eus touch\u00e9 quelques mots \u00e0 la\npersonne dont j\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 parl\u00e9, et qui me r\u00e9pondit ainsi:\u2014\u00abConsid\u00e9rez\nd\u2019abord, sir, me dit-il, le lieu o\u00f9 nous sommes, secondement la\ncondition dans laquelle nous sommes, et surtout la majeure partie\ndes gens qui sont bannis ici. Nous sommes environn\u00e9s d\u2019obstacles\nplus forts que des barreaux et des verrous: au nord s\u2019\u00e9tend un oc\u00e9an\ninnavigable o\u00f9 jamais navire n\u2019a fait voile, o\u00f9 jamais barque n\u2019a\nvogu\u00e9, et eussions-nous navire et barque \u00e0 notre service que nous\nne saurions o\u00f9 aller. De tout autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 nous avons plus de mille\nmilles \u00e0 faire pour sortir des \u00c9tats du Czar, et par des chemins\nimpraticables, \u00e0 moins de prendre les routes que le gouvernement a\nfait construire et qui traversent les villes o\u00f9 ses troupes tiennent\ngarnison. Nous ne pouvons ni suivre ces routes sans \u00eatre d\u00e9couverts,\nni trouver de quoi subsister en nous aventurant par tout autre chemin;\nce serait donc en vain que nous tenterions de nous enfuir.\u00bb\nL\u00e0-dessus je fus r\u00e9duit au silence, et je compris qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient dans\nune prison tout aussi s\u00fbre que s\u2019ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 renferm\u00e9s dans le\nch\u00e2teau de Moscou. Cependant il me vint la pens\u00e9e que je pourrais fort\nbien devenir l\u2019instrument de la d\u00e9livrance de cet excellent homme,\net qu\u2019il me serait tr\u00e8s ais\u00e9 de l\u2019emmener, puisque dans le pays on\nn\u2019exer\u00e7ait point sur lui de surveillance. Apr\u00e8s avoir roul\u00e9 cette id\u00e9e\ndans ma t\u00eate quelques instants, je lui dis que, comme je n\u2019allais\npas \u00e0 Moscou, mais \u00e0 Arkhangel, et que je voyageais \u00e0 la mani\u00e8re des\ncaravanes, ce qui me permettait de ne pas coucher dans les stations\nmilitaires du d\u00e9sert, et de camper chaque nuit o\u00f9 je voulais, nous\npourrions facilement gagner sans malencontre cette ville, o\u00f9 je le\nmettrais imm\u00e9diatement en s\u00fbret\u00e9 \u00e0 bord d\u2019un vaisseau anglais ou\nhollandais qui nous transporterait tous deux \u00e0 bon port.\u2014\u00abQuant \u00e0\nvotre subsistance et aux autres d\u00e9tails, ajoutai-je, je m\u2019en chargerai\njusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que vous puissiez faire mieux vous-m\u00eame.\u00bb\nIl m\u2019\u00e9couta tr\u00e8s attentivement et me regarda fixement tout le temps\nque je parlai; je pus m\u00eame voir sur son visage que mes paroles\njetaient son esprit dans une grande \u00e9motion. Sa couleur changeait \u00e0\ntout moment, ses yeux s\u2019enflammaient, toute sa contenance trahissait\nl\u2019agitation de son c\u0153ur. Il ne put me r\u00e9pliquer imm\u00e9diatement\nquand j\u2019eus fini. On e\u00fbt dit qu\u2019il attendait ce qu\u2019il devait\nr\u00e9pondre. Enfin, apr\u00e8s un moment de silence, il m\u2019embrassa en\ns\u2019\u00e9criant:\u2014\u00abMalheureux que nous sommes, infortun\u00e9es cr\u00e9atures, il faut\ndonc que m\u00eame les plus grands actes de l\u2019amiti\u00e9 soient pour nous des\noccasions de chute, il faut donc que nous soyons les tentateurs l\u2019un\nde l\u2019autre? Mon cher ami, continua-t-il, votre offre est si honn\u00eate,\nsi d\u00e9sint\u00e9ress\u00e9e, si bienveillante pour moi, qu\u2019il faudrait que\nj\u2019eusse une bien faible connaissance du monde si, tout \u00e0 la fois,\nje ne m\u2019en \u00e9tonnais pas et ne reconnaissais pas l\u2019obligation que\nje vous en ai. Mais croyez-vous que j\u2019aie \u00e9t\u00e9 sinc\u00e8re dans ce que\nje vous ai si souvent dit de mon m\u00e9pris pour le monde? Croyez-vous\nque je vous aie parl\u00e9 du fond de l\u2019\u00e2me, et qu\u2019en cet exil je sois\nr\u00e9ellement parvenu \u00e0 ce degr\u00e9 de f\u00e9licit\u00e9 qui m\u2019a plac\u00e9 au-dessus de\ntout ce que le monde pouvait me donner et pouvait faire pour moi?\nCroyez-vous que j\u2019\u00e9tais franc quand je vous ai dit que je ne voudrais\npas m\u2019en retourner, fuss\u00e9-je rappel\u00e9 pour redevenir tout ce que\nj\u2019\u00e9tais autrefois \u00e0 la cour, et pour rentrer dans la faveur du Czar,\nmon ma\u00eetre? Croyez-vous, mon ami, que je sois un honn\u00eate homme, ou\npensez-vous que je sois un orgueilleux hypocrite?\u00bb\u2014Ici il s\u2019arr\u00eata\ncomme pour \u00e9couter ce que je r\u00e9pondrais; mais je reconnus bient\u00f4t que\nc\u2019\u00e9tait l\u2019effet de la vive \u00e9motion de ses esprits: son c\u0153ur \u00e9tait\nplein, il ne pouvait poursuivre. Je fus, je l\u2019avoue, aussi frapp\u00e9\nde ces sentiments qu\u2019\u00e9tonn\u00e9 de trouver un tel homme, et j\u2019essayai\nde quelques arguments pour le pousser \u00e0 recouvrer sa libert\u00e9. Je\nlui repr\u00e9sentai qu\u2019il devait consid\u00e9rer ceci comme une porte que\nlui ouvrait le ciel pour sa d\u00e9livrance, comme une sommation que lui\nfaisait la Providence, qui dans sa sollicitude dispose tous les\n\u00e9v\u00e9nements, pour qu\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e0 am\u00e9liorer son \u00e9tat et \u00e0 se rendre utile\ndans le monde.\nAyant eu le temps de se remettre:\u2014\u00abQue savez-vous, sir, me dit-il\nvivement, si, au lieu d\u2019une injonction de la part du ciel, ce n\u2019est\npas une instigation de toute autre part me repr\u00e9sentant sous des\ncouleurs attrayantes, comme une grande f\u00e9licit\u00e9, une d\u00e9livrance qui\npeut \u00eatre en elle-m\u00eame un pi\u00e8ge pour m\u2019entra\u00eener \u00e0 ma ruine? Ici je\nne suis point en proie \u00e0 la tentation de retourner \u00e0 mon ancienne\nmis\u00e9rable grandeur; ailleurs je ne suis pas s\u00fbr que toutes les\nsemences d\u2019orgueil, d\u2019ambition, d\u2019avarice et de luxure que je sais au\nfond de mon c\u0153ur ne puissent se raviver, prendre racine, en un mot,\nm\u2019accabler derechef, et alors l\u2019heureux prisonnier que vous voyez\nmaintenant ma\u00eetre de la libert\u00e9 de son \u00e2me deviendrait, en pleine\npossession de toute libert\u00e9 personnelle, le mis\u00e9rable esclave de ses\nsens. G\u00e9n\u00e9reux ami, laissez-moi dans cette heureuse captivit\u00e9, \u00e9loign\u00e9\nde toute occasion de chute, plut\u00f4t que de m\u2019exciter \u00e0 pourchasser une\nombre de libert\u00e9 aux d\u00e9pens de la libert\u00e9 de ma raison et aux d\u00e9pens\ndu bonheur futur que j\u2019ai aujourd\u2019hui en perspective, et qu\u2019alors,\nj\u2019en ai peur, je perdrais totalement de vue, car je suis de chair,\ncar je suis un homme, rien qu\u2019un homme, car je ne suis pas plus qu\u2019un\nautre \u00e0 l\u2019abri des passions. Oh! ne soyez pas \u00e0 la fois mon ami et mon\ntentateur.\u00bb\nSi j\u2019avais \u00e9t\u00e9 surpris d\u2019abord, je devins alors tout \u00e0 fait muet,\net je restai l\u00e0 \u00e0 le contempler dans le silence et l\u2019admiration. Le\ncombat que soutenait son \u00e2me \u00e9tait si grand que, malgr\u00e9 le froid\nexcessif, il \u00e9tait tout en sueur. Je vis que son esprit avait besoin\nde retrouver du calme; aussi je lui dis en deux mots que je le\nlaissais r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, que je reviendrais le voir; et je regagnai mon\nlogis.\nEnviron deux heures apr\u00e8s, j\u2019entendis quelqu\u2019un \u00e0 la porte de\nla chambre, et je me levais pour aller ouvrir quand il l\u2019ouvrit\nlui-m\u00eame et entra.\u2014\u00abMon cher ami, me dit-il, vous m\u2019aviez presque\nvaincu, mais je suis revenu \u00e0 moi. Ne trouvez pas mauvais que je me\nd\u00e9fende de votre offre. Je vous assure que ce n\u2019est pas que je ne\nsois p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de votre bont\u00e9; je viens pour vous exprimer la plus\nsinc\u00e8re reconnaissance; mais j\u2019esp\u00e8re avoir remport\u00e9 une victoire sur\nmoi-m\u00eame.\u00bb\n-\u00abMylord, lui r\u00e9pondis-je, j\u2019aime \u00e0 croire que vous \u00eates pleinement\nassur\u00e9 que vous ne r\u00e9sistez pas \u00e0 la voix du ciel.\u00bb\u2014\u00abSir, reprit-il,\nsi c\u2019e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 de la part du ciel, la m\u00eame influence c\u00e9leste m\u2019e\u00fbt\npouss\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019accepter, mais j\u2019esp\u00e8re, mais je demeure bien convaincu\nque c\u2019est de par le ciel que je m\u2019en excuse, et quand nous nous\ns\u00e9parerons, ce ne sera pas une petite satisfaction pour moi de penser\nque vous m\u2019aurez laiss\u00e9 honn\u00eate homme, sinon homme libre.\u00bb\nJe ne pouvais plus qu\u2019acquiescer et protester que dans tout cela mon\nunique but avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de le servir. Il m\u2019embrassa tr\u00e8s affectueusement\nen m\u2019assurant qu\u2019il en \u00e9tait convaincu et qu\u2019il en serait toujours\nreconnaissant; puis il m\u2019offrit un tr\u00e8s beau pr\u00e9sent de zibelines,\ntrop magnifique vraiment pour que je pusse l\u2019accepter d\u2019un homme dans\nsa position, et que j\u2019aurais refus\u00e9 s\u2019il ne s\u2019y f\u00fbt oppos\u00e9.\nLe lendemain matin, j\u2019envoyai \u00e0 sa seigneurie mon serviteur avec un\npetit pr\u00e9sent de th\u00e9, deux pi\u00e8ces de damas chinois, et quatre petits\nlingots d\u2019or japonais, qui tous ensemble ne pesaient pas plus de six\nonces ou environ; mais ce cadeau n\u2019approchait pas de la valeur des\nzibelines, dont je trouvai vraiment, \u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e en Angleterre, pr\u00e8s\nde 200 livres sterling. Il accepta le th\u00e9, une des pi\u00e8ces de damas et\nune des pi\u00e8ces d\u2019or au coin japonais, portant une belle empreinte,\nqu\u2019il garda, je pense, pour sa raret\u00e9; mais il ne voulut rien prendre\nde plus, et me fit savoir par mon serviteur qu\u2019il d\u00e9sirait me parler.\nQuand je me fus rendu aupr\u00e8s de lui, il me dit que je savais ce qui\ns\u2019\u00e9tait pass\u00e9 entre nous, et qu\u2019il esp\u00e9rait que je ne chercherais plus\n\u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9mouvoir; mais puisque je lui avais fait une si g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse offre,\nqu\u2019il me demandait si j\u2019aurais assez de bont\u00e9 pour la transporter \u00e0\nune autre personne qu\u2019il me nommerait, et \u00e0 laquelle il s\u2019int\u00e9ressait\nbeaucoup. Je lui r\u00e9pondis que je ne pouvais dire que je fusse port\u00e9\n\u00e0 faire autant pour un autre que pour lui pour qui j\u2019avais con\u00e7u une\nestime toute particuli\u00e8re, et que j\u2019aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 ravi de d\u00e9livrer;\ncependant, s\u2019il lui plaisait de me nommer la personne, que je lui\nrendrais r\u00e9ponse, et que j\u2019esp\u00e9rais qu\u2019il ne m\u2019en voudrait pas si\nelle ne lui \u00e9tait point agr\u00e9able. Sur ce, il me dit qu\u2019il s\u2019agissait\nde son fils unique, qui, bien que je ne l\u2019eusse pas vu, se trouvait\ndans la m\u00eame situation que lui, environ \u00e0 deux cents milles plus loin,\nde l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019Oby, et que, si j\u2019accueillais sa demande, il\nl\u2019enverrait chercher.\nJe lui r\u00e9pondis sans balancer que j\u2019y consentais. Je fis toutefois\nquelques c\u00e9r\u00e9monies pour lui donner \u00e0 entendre que c\u2019\u00e9tait enti\u00e8rement\n\u00e0 sa consid\u00e9ration, et parce que, ne pouvant l\u2019entra\u00eener, je voulais\nlui prouver ma d\u00e9f\u00e9rence par mon z\u00e8le pour son fils. Mais ces choses\nsont trop fastidieuses pour que je les r\u00e9p\u00e8te ici. Il envoya le\nlendemain chercher son fils, qui, au bout de vingt jours, arriva\navec le messager, amenant six ou sept chevaux charg\u00e9s de tr\u00e8s riches\npelleteries d\u2019une valeur consid\u00e9rable.\nLes valets firent entrer les chevaux dans la ville, mais ils\nlaiss\u00e8rent leur jeune seigneur \u00e0 quelque distance. A la nuit, il se\nrendit incognito dans notre appartement, et son p\u00e8re me le pr\u00e9senta.\nSur-le-champ nous concert\u00e2mes notre voyage, et nous en r\u00e9gl\u00e2mes tous\nles pr\u00e9paratifs.\nJ\u2019achetai une grande quantit\u00e9 de zibelines, de peaux de renards noirs,\nde belles hermines, et d\u2019autres riches pelleteries, je les troquai,\nveux-je dire, dans cette ville, contre quelques-unes des marchandises\nque j\u2019avais apport\u00e9es de Chine, particuli\u00e8rement contre des clous de\ngirofle, des noix muscades dont je vendis l\u00e0 une grande partie, et le\nreste plus tard \u00e0 Arkhangel, beaucoup plus avantageusement que je ne\nl\u2019eusse fait \u00e0 Londres; aussi mon partner, qui \u00e9tait fort sensible aux\nprofits et pour qui le n\u00e9goce \u00e9tait chose plus importante que pour\nmoi, fut-il excessivement satisfait de notre s\u00e9jour en ce lieu \u00e0 cause\ndu trafic que nous y f\u00eemes.\nCe fut au commencement de juin que je quittai cette place recul\u00e9e,\ncette ville dont, je crois, on entend peu parler dans le monde; elle\nest, par le fait, si \u00e9loign\u00e9e de toutes les routes du commerce, que\nje ne vois pas pourquoi on s\u2019en entretiendrait beaucoup. Nous ne\nformions plus alors qu\u2019une tr\u00e8s petite caravane, compos\u00e9e seulement\nde trente-deux chevaux et chameaux. Tous passaient pour \u00eatre \u00e0 moi,\nquoique onze d\u2019entre eux appartinssent \u00e0 mon nouvel h\u00f4te. Il \u00e9tait\ndonc tr\u00e8s naturel apr\u00e8s cela que je m\u2019attachasse un plus grand nombre\nde domestiques. Le jeune seigneur passa pour mon intendant; pour quel\ngrand personnage passai-je moi-m\u00eame? je ne sais; je ne pris pas la\npeine de m\u2019en informer. Nous e\u00fbmes ici \u00e0 traverser le plus d\u00e9testable\net le plus grand d\u00e9sert que nous eussions rencontr\u00e9 dans tout le\nvoyage; je dis le plus d\u00e9testable parce que le chemin \u00e9tait creux en\nquelques endroits et tr\u00e8s in\u00e9gal dans d\u2019autres. Nous nous consolions\nen pensant que nous n\u2019avions \u00e0 redouter ni troupes de Tartares, ni\nbrigands, que jamais ils ne venaient sur ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l\u2019Oby, ou du moins\ntr\u00e8s rarement; mais nous nous m\u00e9comptions.\nMon jeune seigneur avait avec lui un fid\u00e8le valet moscovite ou plut\u00f4t\nsib\u00e9rien qui connaissait parfaitement le pays, et qui nous conduisit\npar des chemins d\u00e9tourn\u00e9s pour que nous \u00e9vitassions d\u2019entrer dans les\nprincipales villes \u00e9chelonn\u00e9es sur la grande route, telles que Tumen,\nSoloy-Kamaskoy et plusieurs autres, parce que les garnisons moscovites\nqui s\u2019y trouvent examinent scrupuleusement les voyageurs, de peur\nque quelque exil\u00e9 de marque ne parvienne \u00e0 rentrer en Moscovie. Mais\nsi, par ce moyen, nous \u00e9vitions toutes recherches, en revanche nous\nfaisions tout notre voyage dans le d\u00e9sert, et nous \u00e9tions oblig\u00e9s de\ncamper et de coucher sous nos tentes, tandis que nous pouvions avoir\nde bons logements dans les villes de la route. Le jeune seigneur le\nsentait si bien qu\u2019il ne voulait pas nous permettre de coucher dehors,\nquand nous venions \u00e0 rencontrer quelque bourg sur notre chemin. Il se\nretirait seul avec son domestique et passait la nuit en plein air dans\nles bois, puis le lendemain il nous rejoignait au rendez-vous.\nNous entr\u00e2mes en Europe en passant le fleuve Kama, qui, dans cette\nr\u00e9gion, s\u00e9pare l\u2019Europe de l\u2019Asie. La premi\u00e8re ville sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9\neurop\u00e9en s\u2019appelle Soloy-Kamaskoy, ce qui veut dire la grande ville\nsur le fleuve Kama. Nous nous \u00e9tions imagin\u00e9 qu\u2019arriv\u00e9s l\u00e0 nous\nverrions quelque changement notable chez les habitants, dans leurs\nm\u0153urs, leur costume, leur religion, mais nous nous \u00e9tions tromp\u00e9s,\nnous avions encore \u00e0 traverser un vaste d\u00e9sert qui, \u00e0 ce qu\u2019on\nrapporte, a pr\u00e8s de sept cents milles de long en quelques endroits,\nbien qu\u2019il n\u2019en ait pas plus de deux cents milles au lieu o\u00f9 nous le\npass\u00e2mes, et, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que nous fussions sortis de cette horrible\nsolitude, nous trouv\u00e2mes tr\u00e8s peu de diff\u00e9rence entre cette contr\u00e9e et\nla Tartarie Mongole.\nNous trouv\u00e2mes les habitants pour la plupart pa\u00efens et ne valant gu\u00e8re\nmieux que les sauvages de l\u2019Am\u00e9rique. Leurs maisons et leurs villages\nsont pleins d\u2019idoles, et leurs m\u0153urs sont tout \u00e0 fait barbares,\nexcept\u00e9 dans les villes et dans les villages qui les avoisinent,\no\u00f9 ces pauvres gens se pr\u00e9tendent chr\u00e9tiens de l\u2019\u00c9glise grecque,\nmais vraiment leur religion est encore m\u00eal\u00e9e \u00e0 tant de restes de\nsuperstitions que c\u2019est \u00e0 peine si l\u2019on peut en quelques endroits la\ndistinguer d\u2019avec la sorcellerie et la magie.\nEn traversant ce steppe, lorsque nous avions banni toute id\u00e9e de\ndanger de notre esprit, comme je l\u2019ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 insinu\u00e9, nous pens\u00e2mes\n\u00eatre pill\u00e9s et d\u00e9trouss\u00e9s, et peut-\u00eatre assassin\u00e9s par une troupe\nde brigands. \u00c9taient-ils de ce pays, \u00e9taient-ce des bandes roulantes\nd\u2019Ostiaks (esp\u00e8ce de Tartares ou de peuple sauvage du bord de l\u2019Oby)\nqui r\u00f4daient ainsi au loin, ou \u00e9taient-ce des chasseurs de zibelines\nde Sib\u00e9rie, je suis encore \u00e0 le savoir, mais ce que je sais bien, par\nexemple, c\u2019est qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient tous \u00e0 cheval, qu\u2019ils portaient des\narcs et des fl\u00e8ches et que nous les rencontr\u00e2mes d\u2019abord au nombre de\nquarante-cinq environ. Ils approch\u00e8rent de nous jusqu\u2019\u00e0 deux port\u00e9es\nde mousquet, et, sans autre pr\u00e9ambule, ils nous environn\u00e8rent avec\nleurs chevaux et nous examin\u00e8rent \u00e0 deux reprises tr\u00e8s attentivement.\nEnfin ils se post\u00e8rent juste dans notre chemin; sur quoi nous nous\nrange\u00e2mes en ligne devant nos chameaux\u2014nous n\u2019\u00e9tions pourtant que\nseize hommes en tout\u2014et ainsi rang\u00e9s nous f\u00eemes halte et d\u00e9p\u00each\u00e2mes le\nvalet sib\u00e9rien au service du jeune seigneur, pour voir quelle engeance\nc\u2019\u00e9tait. Son ma\u00eetre le laissa aller d\u2019autant plus volontiers qu\u2019il\navait une vive appr\u00e9hension que ce ne f\u00fbt une troupe de Sib\u00e9riens\nenvoy\u00e9s \u00e0 sa poursuite. Cet homme s\u2019avan\u00e7a vers eux avec un drapeau\nparlementaire et les interpella. Mais quoiqu\u2019il s\u00fbt plusieurs de\nleurs langues ou plut\u00f4t de leurs dialectes, il ne put comprendre un\nmot de ce qu\u2019ils r\u00e9pondaient. Toutefois, \u00e0 quelques signes ayant\ncru reconna\u00eetre qu\u2019ils le mena\u00e7aient de lui tirer dessus s\u2019il\ns\u2019approchait, ce gar\u00e7on s\u2019en revint comme il \u00e9tait parti. Seulement\nil nous dit qu\u2019il pr\u00e9sumait, \u00e0 leur costume, que ces Tartares\ndevaient appartenir \u00e0 quelque horde kalmoucke ou circassienne, et\nqu\u2019ils devaient se trouver en bien plus grand nombre dans le d\u00e9sert,\nquoiqu\u2019il n\u2019e\u00fbt jamais entendu dire qu\u2019auparavant ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 vus\nsi loin vers le nord.\nC\u2019\u00e9tait peu consolant pour nous, mais il n\u2019y avait point de rem\u00e8de.\u2014A\nmain gauche, \u00e0 environ un quart de mille de distance, se trouvait un\npetit bocage, un petit bouquet d\u2019arbres tr\u00e8s serr\u00e9s, et fort pr\u00e8s de\nla route. Sur-le-champ je d\u00e9cidai qu\u2019il nous fallait avancer jusqu\u2019\u00e0\nces arbres et nous y fortifier de notre mieux, envisageant d\u2019abord que\nleur feuillage nous mettrait en grande partie \u00e0 couvert des fl\u00e8ches\nde nos ennemis, et, en second lieu, qu\u2019ils ne pourraient venir nous\ny charger en masse: ce fut, \u00e0 vrai dire, mon vieux pilote qui en\nfit la proposition. Ce brave avait cette pr\u00e9cieuse qualit\u00e9, qui ne\nl\u2019abandonnait jamais, d\u2019\u00eatre toujours le plus prompt et plus apte \u00e0\nnous diriger et \u00e0 nous encourager dans les occasions p\u00e9rilleuses.\nNous avan\u00e7\u00e2mes donc imm\u00e9diatement, et nous gagn\u00e2mes en toute h\u00e2te ce\npetit bois, sans que les Tartares ou les brigands, car nous ne savions\ncomment les appeler, eussent fait le moindre mouvement pour nous en\nemp\u00eacher. Quand nous f\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s, nous trouv\u00e2mes, \u00e0 notre grande\nsatisfaction, que c\u2019\u00e9tait un terrain mar\u00e9cageux et plein de fondri\u00e8res\nd\u2019o\u00f9, sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9, s\u2019\u00e9chappait une fontaine, formant un ruisseau,\njoint \u00e0 quelque distance de l\u00e0 par un autre petit courant. En un\nmot, c\u2019\u00e9tait la source d\u2019une rivi\u00e8re consid\u00e9rable appel\u00e9e plus loin\nWirtska. Les arbres qui croissaient autour de cette source n\u2019\u00e9taient\npas en tout plus de deux cents, mais ils \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s gros et plant\u00e9s\nfort \u00e9pais. Aussi, d\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 dans ce bocage,\nv\u00eemes-nous que nous y serions parfaitement \u00e0 l\u2019abri de l\u2019ennemi, \u00e0\nmoins qu\u2019il ne m\u00eet pied \u00e0 terre pour nous attaquer.\nMais afin de rendre cette attaque m\u00eame difficile, notre vieux\nPortugais, avec une patience incroyable, s\u2019avisa de couper \u00e0 demi\nde grandes branches d\u2019arbres, et de les laisser pendre d\u2019un tronc \u00e0\nl\u2019autre pour former une esp\u00e8ce de palissade tout autour de nous.\nNous attendions l\u00e0 depuis quelques heures que nos ennemis ex\u00e9cutassent\nun mouvement sans nous \u00eatre aper\u00e7us qu\u2019ils eussent fait mine de\nbouger, quand environ deux heures avant la nuit ils s\u2019avanc\u00e8rent droit\nsur nous. Quoique nous ne l\u2019eussions point remarqu\u00e9, nous v\u00eemes alors\nqu\u2019ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 rejoints par quelques gens de leur esp\u00e8ce, de\nsorte qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient bien quatre-vingts cavaliers parmi lesquels nous\ncr\u00fbmes distinguer quelques femmes. Lorsqu\u2019ils furent \u00e0 demi-port\u00e9e\nde mousquet de notre petit bois, nous tir\u00e2mes un coup \u00e0 poudre et\nleur adress\u00e2mes la parole en langue russienne pour savoir ce qu\u2019ils\nvoulaient et leur enjoindre de se tenir \u00e0 distance; mais comme ils\nne comprenaient rien \u00e0 ce que nous leur disions, ce coup ne fit que\nredoubler leur fureur, et ils se pr\u00e9cipit\u00e8rent du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du bois, ne\ns\u2019imaginant pas que nous y \u00e9tions si bien barricad\u00e9s qu\u2019il leur serait\nimpossible d\u2019y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer. Notre vieux pilote, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 notre\ning\u00e9nieur, fut aussi notre capitaine. Il nous pria de ne point faire\nfeu dessus qu\u2019ils ne fussent \u00e0 port\u00e9e de pistolet, afin de pouvoir\n\u00eatre s\u00fbrs de leur faire mordre la poussi\u00e8re, et de ne point tirer que\nnous ne fussions s\u00fbrs d\u2019avoir bien ajust\u00e9. Nous nous en rem\u00eemes \u00e0 son\ncommandement, mais il diff\u00e9ra si longtemps le signal que quelques-uns\nde nos adversaires n\u2019\u00e9taient pas \u00e9loign\u00e9s de nous de la longueur de\ndeux piques quand nous leur envoy\u00e2mes notre d\u00e9charge.\nNous vis\u00e2mes si juste, ou la Providence dirigea si s\u00fbrement nos coups,\nque de cette premi\u00e8re salve nous en tu\u00e2mes quatorze et en bless\u00e2mes\nplusieurs autres, cavaliers et chevaux; car nous avions tous charg\u00e9\nnos armes de deux ou trois balles au moins.\nIls furent terriblement surpris de notre feu, et se retir\u00e8rent\nimm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 environ une centaine de verges. Ayant profit\u00e9 de ce\nmoment pour recharger nos armes, et voyant qu\u2019ils se tenaient \u00e0 cette\ndistance, nous f\u00eemes une sortie et nous empar\u00e2mes de quatre ou cinq de\nleurs chevaux dont nous suppos\u00e2mes que les cavaliers avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s.\nAux corps rest\u00e9s sur la place nous reconn\u00fbmes de suite que ces gens\n\u00e9taient des Tartares; mais \u00e0 quel pays appartenaient-ils, mais comment\nen \u00e9taient-ils venus \u00e0 faire une excursion si longue, c\u2019est ce que\nnous ne p\u00fbmes savoir.\nEnviron une heure apr\u00e8s ils firent un second mouvement pour nous\nattaquer, et galop\u00e8rent autour de notre petit bois pour voir s\u2019ils\npourraient y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer par quelque autre point; mais, nous trouvant\ntoujours pr\u00eats \u00e0 leur faire face, ils se retir\u00e8rent de nouveau: sur\nquoi nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de ne pas bouger de l\u00e0 pour cette nuit.\nNous dorm\u00eemes peu, croyez-le. Nous pass\u00e2mes la plus grande partie de\nla nuit \u00e0 fortifier notre retrait, et \u00e0 barricader toutes les perc\u00e9es\ndu bois; puis, faisant une garde s\u00e9v\u00e8re, nous attend\u00eemes le jour.\nMais, quand il parut, il nous fit faire une f\u00e2cheuse d\u00e9couverte; car\nl\u2019ennemi, que nous pensions d\u00e9courag\u00e9 par la r\u00e9ception de la veille,\ns\u2019\u00e9tait renforc\u00e9 de plus de deux cents hommes et avait dress\u00e9 onze ou\ndouze huttes comme s\u2019il \u00e9tait d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 nous assi\u00e9ger.\nCe petit camp \u00e9tait plant\u00e9 en pleine campagne \u00e0 trois quarts de\nmille de nous environ. Nous f\u00fbmes tout de bon grandement surpris \u00e0\ncette d\u00e9couverte, et j\u2019avoue que je me tins alors pour perdu, moi\net tout ce que j\u2019avais. La perte de mes effets, bien qu\u2019ils fussent\nconsid\u00e9rables, me touchait moins que la pens\u00e9e de tomber entre les\nmains de pareils barbares, tout \u00e0 la fin de mon voyage, apr\u00e8s avoir\ntravers\u00e9 tant d\u2019obstacles et de hasards, et m\u00eame en vue du port\no\u00f9 nous esp\u00e9rions s\u00fbret\u00e9 et d\u00e9livrance. Quant \u00e0 mon partner, il\nenrageait; il protestait que la perte de ses marchandises serait sa\nruine, qu\u2019il aimait mieux mourir que d\u2019\u00eatre r\u00e9duit \u00e0 la mis\u00e8re et\nqu\u2019il voulait combattre jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re goutte de son sang.\nLe jeune seigneur, brave au possible, voulait aussi combattre jusqu\u2019au\ndernier soupir, et mon vieux pilote avait pour opinion que nous\npouvions r\u00e9sister \u00e0 nos ennemis, post\u00e9s comme nous l\u2019\u00e9tions. Toute la\njourn\u00e9e se passa ainsi en discussions sur ce que nous devions faire,\nmais vers le soir nous nous aper\u00e7\u00fbmes que le nombre de nos ennemis\ns\u2019\u00e9tait encore accru. Comme ils r\u00f4daient en plusieurs bandes \u00e0 la\nrecherche de quelque proie, peut-\u00eatre la premi\u00e8re bande avait-elle\nenvoy\u00e9 des expr\u00e8s pour demander du secours et donner avis aux autres\ndu butin qu\u2019elle avait d\u00e9couvert, et rien ne nous disait que le\nlendemain ils ne seraient pas encore en plus grand nombre; aussi\ncommen\u00e7ai-je \u00e0 m\u2019enqu\u00e9rir aupr\u00e8s des gens que nous avions amen\u00e9s\nde Tobolsk s\u2019il n\u2019y avait pas d\u2019autres chemins, des chemins plus\nd\u00e9tourn\u00e9s par lesquels nous pussions \u00e9chapper \u00e0 ces dr\u00f4les pendant\nla nuit, puis nous r\u00e9fugier dans quelque ville, ou nous procurer une\nescorte pour nous prot\u00e9ger dans le d\u00e9sert.\nLe Sib\u00e9rien, domestique du jeune seigneur, nous dit que si nous avions\nle dessein de nous retirer et non pas de combattre, il se chargerait,\n\u00e0 la nuit, de nous faire prendre un chemin conduisant au nord vers\nla rivi\u00e8re Petraz, par lequel nous pourrions indubitablement nous\n\u00e9vader sans que les Tartares y vissent goutte; mais il ajouta que son\nseigneur lui avait dit qu\u2019il ne voulait pas s\u2019enfuir, qu\u2019il aimait\nmieux combattre. Je lui r\u00e9pondis qu\u2019il se m\u00e9prenait sur son seigneur,\nqui \u00e9tait un homme trop sage pour vouloir se battre pour le plaisir\nde se battre; que son seigneur avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 donn\u00e9 des preuves de sa\nbravoure et que je le tenais pour brave, mais que son seigneur avait\ntrop de sens pour d\u00e9sirer mettre aux prises dix-sept ou dix-huit\nhommes avec cinq cents, \u00e0 moins d\u2019une n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 in\u00e9vitable.\u2014\u00abSi vous\npensez r\u00e9ellement, ajoutai-je, qu\u2019il nous soit possible de nous\n\u00e9chapper cette nuit, nous n\u2019avons rien de mieux \u00e0 faire.\u00bb\u2014\u00abQue mon\nseigneur m\u2019en donne l\u2019ordre, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il, et ma vie est \u00e0 vous si\nje ne l\u2019accomplis pas.\u00bb Nous amen\u00e2mes bient\u00f4t son ma\u00eetre \u00e0 donner cet\nordre, secr\u00e8tement toutefois, et nous nous pr\u00e9par\u00e2mes imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0\nle mettre \u00e0 ex\u00e9cution.\nEt d\u2019abord, aussit\u00f4t qu\u2019il commen\u00e7a \u00e0 faire sombre, nous allum\u00e2mes un\nfeu dans notre petit camp, que nous entret\u00eenmes et que nous dispos\u00e2mes\nde mani\u00e8re qu\u2019il p\u00fbt br\u00fbler toute la nuit, afin de faire croire aux\nTartares que nous \u00e9tions toujours l\u00e0; puis, d\u00e8s qu\u2019il fit noir,\nc\u2019est-\u00e0-dire d\u00e8s que nous p\u00fbmes voir les \u00e9toiles (car notre guide ne\nvoulut pas bouger auparavant), tous nos chevaux et nos chameaux se\ntrouvant pr\u00eats et charg\u00e9s, nous suiv\u00eemes notre nouveau guide, qui,\nje ne tardai pas \u00e0 m\u2019en apercevoir, se guidait lui-m\u00eame sur l\u2019\u00e9toile\npolaire, tout le pays ne formant jusqu\u2019au loin qu\u2019une vaste plaine.\nQuand nous e\u00fbmes march\u00e9 rudement pendant deux heures, le ciel, non\npas qu\u2019il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 bien sombre jusque-l\u00e0, commen\u00e7a \u00e0 s\u2019\u00e9claircir,\nla lune se leva, et bref il fit plus clair que nous ne l\u2019aurions\nsouhait\u00e9. Vers six heures du matin nous avions fait pr\u00e8s de quarante\nmilles: \u00e0 vrai dire, nous avions \u00e9reint\u00e9 nos chevaux. Nous trouv\u00e2mes\nalors un village russien nomm\u00e9 Kirmazinskoy, o\u00f9 nous nous arr\u00eat\u00e2mes\ntout le jour. N\u2019ayant pas eu de nouvelles de nos Tartares Kalmoucks,\nenviron deux heures avant la nuit nous nous rem\u00eemes en route et\nmarch\u00e2mes jusqu\u2019\u00e0 huit heures du matin, moins vite toutefois que la\nnuit pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente. Sur les sept heures nous pass\u00e2mes une petite rivi\u00e8re\nappel\u00e9e Kirtza et nous atteign\u00eemes une bonne et grande ville habit\u00e9e\npar les Russiens et tr\u00e8s peupl\u00e9e, nomm\u00e9e Ozomoys. Nous y appr\u00eemes que\nplusieurs troupes ou hordes de Kalmoucks s\u2019\u00e9taient r\u00e9pandues dans\nle d\u00e9sert, mais que nous n\u2019en avions plus rien \u00e0 craindre, ce qui\nfut pour nous une grande satisfaction, je vous l\u2019assure. Nous f\u00fbmes\noblig\u00e9s de nous procurer quelques chevaux frais en ce lieu, et comme\nnous avions grand besoin de repos, nous y demeur\u00e2mes cinq jours; et,\nmon partner et moi, nous conv\u00eenmes de donner \u00e0 l\u2019honn\u00eate Sib\u00e9rien qui\nnous y avait conduits la valeur de dix pistoles pour sa peine.\nApr\u00e8s une nouvelle marche de cinq jours nous atteign\u00eemes Veussima, sur\nla rivi\u00e8re Witzogda qui se jette dans la Dvina: nous touchions alors\nau terme heureux de nos voyages par terre, car ce fleuve, en sept\njours de navigation, pouvait nous conduire \u00e0 Arkhangel. De Veussima\nnous nous rend\u00eemes \u00e0 Laurenskoy, au confluent de la rivi\u00e8re, le 3\njuillet, o\u00f9 nous nous procur\u00e2mes deux bateaux de transport, et une\nbarge pour notre propre commodit\u00e9. Nous nous embarqu\u00e2mes le 7, et nous\narriv\u00e2mes tous sains et saufs a Arkhangel le 18, apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 un\nan, cinq mois et trois jours en voyage, y compris notre station de\nhuit mois et quelques jours \u00e0 Tobolsk.\nNous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s d\u2019y attendre six semaines l\u2019arriv\u00e9e des navires et\nnous eussions attendu plus longtemps si un navire hambourgeois n\u2019e\u00fbt\ndevanc\u00e9 de plus d\u2019un mois tous les vaisseaux anglais. Consid\u00e9rant\nalors que nous pourrions nous d\u00e9faire de nos marchandises aussi\navantageusement \u00e0 Hambourg qu\u2019\u00e0 Londres, nous pr\u00eemes tous passage sur\nce b\u00e2timent. Une fois nos effets \u00e0 bord, pour en avoir soin, rien ne\nfut plus naturel que d\u2019y placer mon intendant, le jeune seigneur,\nqui, par ce moyen, put se tenir cach\u00e9 parfaitement. Tout le temps que\nnous s\u00e9journ\u00e2mes encore, il ne remit plus le pied \u00e0 terre, craignant\nde se montrer dans la ville, o\u00f9 quelques-uns des marchands moscovites\nl\u2019eussent certainement vu et reconnu.\nNous quitt\u00e2mes Arkhangel le 20 ao\u00fbt de la m\u00eame ann\u00e9e, et, apr\u00e8s un\nvoyage pas trop mauvais, nous entr\u00e2mes dans l\u2019Elbe le 13 septembre.\nL\u00e0, mon partner et moi, nous trouv\u00e2mes un tr\u00e8s bon d\u00e9bit de nos\nmarchandises chinoises, ainsi que de nos zibelines et autres\npelleteries de Sib\u00e9rie. Nous f\u00eemes alors le partage de nos b\u00e9n\u00e9fices,\net ma part montait \u00e0 3,475 livres sterling 17 _shillings_ et 3\n_pence_, malgr\u00e9 toutes les pertes que nous avions essuy\u00e9es et les\nfrais que nous avions eus; seulement, je me souviens que j\u2019y avais\ncompris la valeur d\u2019environ 600 livres sterling pour les diamants que\nj\u2019avais achet\u00e9s au Bengale.\nLe jeune seigneur prit alors cong\u00e9 de nous, et s\u2019embarqua sur l\u2019Elbe,\ndans le dessein de se rendre \u00e0 la cour de Vienne, o\u00f9 il avait r\u00e9solu\nde chercher protection et d\u2019o\u00f9 il pourrait correspondre avec ceux\ndes amis de son p\u00e8re qui vivaient encore. Il ne se s\u00e9para pas de moi\nsans me t\u00e9moigner toute sa gratitude pour le service que je lui avais\nrendu, et sans se montrer p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de mes bont\u00e9s pour le prince son\np\u00e8re.\nPour conclusion, apr\u00e8s \u00eatre demeur\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de quatre mois \u00e0 Hambourg,\nje me rendis par terre \u00e0 La Haye, o\u00f9 je m\u2019embarquai sur le paquebot,\net j\u2019arrivai \u00e0 Londres le 10 janvier 1705. Il y avait dix ans et neuf\nmois que j\u2019\u00e9tais absent d\u2019Angleterre.\nEnfin, bien r\u00e9solu \u00e0 ne pas me harasser davantage, je suis en train\nde me pr\u00e9parer pour un plus long voyage que tous ceux-ci, ayant pass\u00e9\nsoixante-douze ans d\u2019une vie d\u2019une vari\u00e9t\u00e9 infinie, ayant appris\nsuffisamment \u00e0 conna\u00eetre le prix de la retraite et le bonheur qu\u2019il y\na \u00e0 finir ses jours en paix.\n[Illustration]\nTABLE DES MATI\u00c8RES\n  AU LECTEUR      VI\n  PREMI\u00c8RE PARTIE\n  CHAPITRE PREMIER\n  Origine de Robinson.\u2014Temp\u00eate dans la rade de Yarmouth.\u2014Voyage en\n  Guin\u00e9e.\u2014Captivit\u00e9.\u2014\u00c9vasion.\u2014Trafic avec les n\u00e8gres.\u2014Rencontre d\u2019un\n  navire portugais.\u2014Plantation au Br\u00e9sil.\u2014Violent ouragan.\u2014Naufrage.  1\n  CHAPITRE II\n  Le radeau.\u2014Visites au navire.\u2014Forteresse de Robinson.\u2014R\u00e9flexions\n  consolantes.\u2014Journal.\u2014Les affaires du m\u00e9nage.\u2014Une r\u00e9colte\n  impr\u00e9vue.\u2014Tremblement de terre et ouragan.\u2014Violente\n  fi\u00e8vre.\u2014Pens\u00e9es d\u2019un malade.\u2014Nouvelles d\u00e9couvertes.\u2014Anniversaire\n  CHAPITRE III\n  Excursion \u00e0 travers l\u2019\u00eele.\u2014Second anniversaire.\u2014Nouveaux\n  travaux.\u2014Maraudeurs.\u2014Derni\u00e8res op\u00e9rations.\u2014Robinson\n  potier.\u2014Construction d\u2019un canot.\u2014Reconnaissance.\u2014Assortiment de\n  hardes.\u2014Essai de navigation.\u2014Heureuse d\u00e9livrance.\u2014Robinson et\n  CHAPITRE IV\n  Pr\u00e9cautions.\u2014Horrible d\u00e9couverte.\u2014Plan contre les\n  sauvages.\u2014Terrass\u00e9 par la peur.\u2014La caverne.\u2014Nouvelles transes.\u2014Le\n  fanal.\u2014Visite au vaisseau naufrag\u00e9.\u2014Nouveaux projets.\u2014Le\n  CHAPITRE V\n  Vendredi.\u2014Son \u00e9ducation.\u2014Conversation.\u2014Rudiments de\n  religion.\u2014Nouveau canot.\u2014Encore les sauvages.\u2014Assaut.\u2014Vendredi\n  et son p\u00e8re.\u2014Apr\u00e8s le diff\u00e9rend.\u2014Plans d\u2019\u00e9vasion.                 197\n  CHAPITRE VI\n  Navire en vue.\u2014D\u00e9barquement du capitaine anglais.\u2014Offres de\n  service.\u2014Visite au ch\u00e2teau de Robinson.\u2014Mesures de\n  pr\u00e9caution.\u2014Nouvelle descente.\u2014Reddition des mutins.\u2014Le gouverneur\n  de l\u2019\u00eele.\u2014Attaque du navire.\u2014Gratitude du capitaine.              237\n  DEUXI\u00c8ME PARTIE\n  CHAPITRE PREMIER\n  Le vieux capitaine portugais,\u2014Pr\u00e9paratifs de d\u00e9part.\u2014Attaqu\u00e9s par\n  des loups.\u2014Vendredi dompteur d\u2019ours.\u2014Combat avec les loups.\u2014Les\n  deux neveux.\u2014Recherche de nouvelles aventures.\u2014Pr\u00e9paratifs de\n  d\u00e9part.\u2014Le vaisseau incendi\u00e9.\u2014Gratitude du sauveteur.\u2014Requ\u00eate des\n  incendi\u00e9s.\u2014L\u2019\u00e9quipage affam\u00e9.\u2014Retour dans l\u2019\u00eele.                  267\n  CHAPITRE II\n  Nouvelle mutinerie\u2014Sanglante querelle.\u2014Un coup d\u2019assommoir.\u2014Feinte\n  soumission.\u2014Une fausse supposition.\u2014Combat entre sauvages.\u2014Trois\n  prisonniers.\u2014Mise en jugement.\u2014L\u2019action du gouverneur.\u2014Curieux\n  \u00e9change.\u2014Loterie.\u2014Funeste curiosit\u00e9.\u2014Incendie des huttes.\u2014Frayeur\n  des sauvages.\u2014Trois nouveaux prisonniers.\u2014Nouvelle incursion des\n  Indiens.\u2014Poursuite impitoyable.\u2014Reddition des Indiens.\u2014Rel\u00e8vement\n  CHAPITRE III\n  Nouvelle habitation.\u2014Mis\u00e8res pass\u00e9es.\u2014Accord parfait.\u2014Distribution\n  des outils.\u2014Une cargaison compl\u00e8te.\u2014Un pr\u00eatre fran\u00e7ais.\u2014Nouveau\n  missionnaire.\u2014Pieuses exhortations.\u2014Mariages.\u2014Conversion de\n  CHAPITRE IV\n  Dialogue touchant.\u2014Une nouvelle conversion.\u2014Bapt\u00eame de la femme\n  d\u2019Atkins.\u2014Encore un mariage.\u2014Partage d\u00e9finitif.\u2014D\u00e9couverte d\u2019une\n  Bible.\u2014Les tortures de la faim.\u2014Nouvelle aventure.\u2014Mort de\n  CHAPITRE V\n  D\u00e9part d\u00e9finitif de l\u2019\u00eele.\u2014Nouvelles aventures.\u2014A\n  Madagascar.\u2014Conflit avec les indig\u00e8nes.\u2014Massacre.\u2014Incendie du\n  village indien.\u2014Mutinerie.\u2014Un heureux d\u00e9sappointement.\u2014Un nouvel\n  associ\u00e9.\u2014Rencontre du canonnier.\u2014Poursuite et combat.\u2014Nouveaux\n  dangers.\u2014Succ\u00e8s facile.\u2014Un pilote babillard.\u2014En route pour\n  CHAPITRE VI\n  Arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Quinchang.\u2014Anxieuses m\u00e9ditations.\u2014Le p\u00e8re Simon.\u2014En\n  Chine.\u2014Voyage \u00e0 Nanking.\u2014En route pour P\u00e9king.\u2014Don Quichotte\n  chinois.\u2014Pr\u00e9paratifs de d\u00e9part.\u2014La grande muraille.\u2014Rencontre\n  avec les barbares.\u2014Chameau vol\u00e9.\u2014Seconde rencontre.\u2014Travers\u00e9e\n  difficile.\u2014Une idole.\u2014A travers le d\u00e9sert.\u2014En Sib\u00e9rie.\u2014Derniers\n  pr\u00e9paratifs.\u2014Combat final.\u2014Arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Londres.                     499\n[Illustration]\n\u00c9VREUX, IMPRIMERIE DE CHARLES H\u00c9RISSEY\nNOTES:\n[1] Malgr\u00e9 notre respect pour le texte original, nous avons cru devoir\nnous permettre, ici, de faire le r\u00e9cit direct. P.B.\n[2] Ce passage a \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9testablement d\u00e9figur\u00e9 dans toutes les \u00e9ditions\npass\u00e9es et actuelles; nous le citons pour donner une id\u00e9e parfaite de\nleur valeur n\u00e9gative.\u2014Il y a dans l\u2019original anglais cette excellente\nphrase:\u2014_But you\u2019re but a fresh-water sailor, Bob; come let us make a\nbowl of punch, and we\u2019ll forget all that.\u2014Vous n\u2019\u00eates qu\u2019un marin\nd\u2019eau douce, Bob; venez, que nous fassions un bowl de punch, et que\nnous oubliions tout cela._ Voici ce qu\u2019elle est devenue en passant\npar la plume de nos traducteurs:\u2014_Vous n\u2019\u00eates encore qu\u2019un novice;\nmettons-nous \u00e0 faire du_ punch_, et que les plaisirs de_ BACCHUS _nous\nfassent enti\u00e8rement oublier la mauvaise humeur de_ NEPTUNE.\u2014Daniel\nde Fo\u00eb \u00e9tait un homme de go\u00fbt et de bon sens: cette phrase est une\ncalomnie. P.B.\n[3] _Calenture_, esp\u00e8ce du d\u00e9lire auquel sont sujets les navigateurs\nqui vont dans la zone torride.\n[4] On appelle _Moriscos_, en espagnol, les Maures qui embrass\u00e8rent le\nchristianisme, lorsque l\u2019Espagne fut reconquise, et qui depuis en ont\n\u00e9t\u00e9 chass\u00e9s. P.B.\n[5] _Shoulder of mutton sail._ Voile aurique.\n[6] _Straits mouth._\u2014D\u00e9troit de Gibraltar.\n[7] _Engenho de a\u00e7\u00facar_, moulin \u00e0 sucre.\n[8] L\u2019\u00e9dition originale anglaise de Stockdale porte _Seignor Inglese_,\nce qui n\u2019est pas plus espagnol que portugais.\n[9] Saint-Hyacinthe a confondu _such as beads_ avec _such as beds_, et\na traduit _pour des bagatelles, telles que des lits. P.B.\n[10] Ici, Saint-Hyacinthe, confondant encore _bead_ avec _bed_, a\ntraduit _tels que des matelas_.\n[11] _For sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first._\n[12] Saint-Hyacinthe a commis ici deux erreurs religieusement\nconserv\u00e9es dans toutes les \u00e9ditions et r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e9es par tous ses\nplagiaires; il a traduit _a chiquered shirt_ par _une chemise\nd\u00e9chir\u00e9e_, et _a pair of trowsers_, haut-de-chausses \u00e0 la matelote,\npar _des cale\u00e7ons_. P.B.\n[13] _Hogshead_, barrique contenant 60 gallons, environ 240 pintes ou\nun muid.\u2014Saint-Hyacinthe a donc fait erreur en traduisant _hogshead of\nbread_ par _un morceau de biscuit_. P.B.\n[14] _One of those knives is worth all this heap._\u2014Saint-Hyacinthe\na d\u00e9natur\u00e9 ainsi cette phrase:\u2014_Un seul de ses couteaux est plus\nestimable que les tr\u00e9sors de_ Cr\u00e9sus. P.B.\n[15] _A mere common flight of joy_, un lumignon aussit\u00f4t \u00e9teint\nqu\u2019allum\u00e9. Traduction de Saint-Hyacinthe.\n[16] _Into my old hutch._ HUTCH, huche ou lapini\u00e8re.\n[17] \u00abThis therefore was not my work, but an assistant to my\nwork.\u00bb\u2014(_Ceci donc n\u2019\u00e9tait point mon travail, mais une aide \u00e0\nmon travail._)\u2014Voici comment cette phrase, br\u00e8ve et concise,\na \u00e9t\u00e9 travestie,\u2014d\u2019apr\u00e8s Saint-Hyacinthe,\u2014dans une traduction\ncontemporaine:\u2014\u00abCE PETIT ANIMAL me tenait compagnie dans mon travail;\nles entretiens que j\u2019avais avec lui me distrayaient souvent au\nmilieu de mes occupations graves et importantes, comme vous allez en\njuger.\u00bb\u2014A chaque page on pourrait citer de pareilles infid\u00e9lit\u00e9s.\n[18] Ici, dans certaine \u00e9dition, est intercal\u00e9, \u00e0 propos d\u2019encre, un\npetit paragraphe fort niais et fort malencontreux, qui ne se trouve\npoint dans l\u2019\u00e9dition originale de Stockdale. P.B.\n[19] Ce paragraphe et certains autres fragments ont \u00e9t\u00e9 supprim\u00e9s\ndans une \u00e9dition contemporaine o\u00f9 l\u2019on se borne au r\u00f4le de traducteur\nfid\u00e8le.\n[20] La pi\u00e8ce de huit ou de huit testons, dont il a souvent \u00e9t\u00e9 parl\u00e9\ndans le cours de cet ouvrage, est une pi\u00e8ce d\u2019or portugaise valant\nenviron 5 fr. 66 cent.\n[21] Le moidore, que les Fran\u00e7ais nomment moede et les Portugais\nm\u0153dadouro, est aussi une pi\u00e8ce d\u2019or qui vaut environ 33 fr. 96 cent.\nP.B.\n[22] Dans l\u2019\u00e9dition o\u00f9 l\u2019on se borne au r\u00f4le de traducteur fid\u00e8le, les\ncinq paragraphes, \u00e0 partir de: J\u2019EUS ALORS LA PENS\u00c9E... jusqu\u2019\u00e0: MA\nFID\u00c8LE AMIE LA VEUVE... ont \u00e9t\u00e9 supprim\u00e9s.\n[23] Dans l\u2019\u00e9dition o\u00f9 l\u2019on se borne au r\u00f4le de traducteur fid\u00e8le, les\ncinq paragraphes pr\u00e9c\u00e9dents ont \u00e9t\u00e9 supprim\u00e9s.\n[24] \u00abWhat is bred in the bone will not go out of the flesh.\u00bb\n\u201cFree from vices, free from care, Age has no pains, and youth no\nsnare.\u201d\n[26] Un liard, un quart de denier sterling.\n[27] H\u00f4pital des fous.\n[28] _Straggling._ La traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau\nnom de Mme Tastu, dont il est parl\u00e9 dans notre pr\u00e9face et dans les\nquelques notes pr\u00e9c\u00e9dentes, porte tra\u00eenards. Toutes les pages de cette\ntraduction sont \u00e9maill\u00e9es de pareils barbarismes: il est d\u00e9plorable\nqu\u2019un livre destin\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9ducation de la jeunesse soit une \u00e9cole de\njargon. P.B.\n[29] Dans la susdite traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de\nMme Tastu, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on se borne au r\u00f4le de traducteur fid\u00e8le,\nce paragraphe et le suivant sont enti\u00e8rement pass\u00e9s. P.B.\n[30] Ici, dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de\nMme Tastu, est intercal\u00e9 un long rab\u00e2chage sur la sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 de cet\neccl\u00e9siastique et sur le faux z\u00e8le et la rapacit\u00e9 des missionnaires,\no\u00f9 il est dit que le Chinois Confucius fait partie du calendrier de\nnos saints. Je ne sais si ce morceau peu regrettable est de Daniel de\nFo\u00eb: je ne l\u2019ai point trouv\u00e9 dans l\u2019\u00e9dition originale de Stockdale, ni\ndans l\u2019\u00e9dition donn\u00e9e par John Walker en 1818. P.B.\n[31] Ici, dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de Mme\nTastu, se trouve entre mille autres cette phrase barbare:\u2014\u00ab_Lorsqu\u2019un\ndes matelots vint \u00e0 moi, et me dit qu\u2019il voulait_ M\u2019\u00c9VITER LA PEINE...\u00bb\nPardon, on N\u2019\u00c9VITE pas une peine \u00e0 quelqu\u2019un. On \u00e9pargne une peine,\nc\u2019est un mauvais lieu et une mauvaise traduction qu\u2019on \u00e9vite. Je l\u2019ai\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, il serait bon, dans un livre destin\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9ducation de la\njeunesse, d\u2019\u00e9viter de pareilles incongruit\u00e9s. P.B.\n[32] _But I am sure we came honestly and fairly by the ship._\u2014Ici,\ndans la traduction contemporaine, toujours indigne du beau nom de Mme\nTastu, on a confondu le verbe TO COME, venir et TO COME BY, qui a le\nsens d\u2019acqu\u00e9rir, et l\u2019on fait ce joli non-sens et contresens: ET QUE\nJE SOIS SUR D\u2019\u00caTRE VENU TR\u00c8S PAISIBLEMENT ET TR\u00c8S HONN\u00caTEMENT SUR CE\nNAVIRE.\u2014Nous citons ceci entre mille comme m\u00e9mento seulement. P.B.\n[33] Dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de Mme\nTastu, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on se borne au r\u00f4le de TRADUCTEUR FID\u00c8LE, toute\nla fin de ce paragraphe est supprim\u00e9e et remplac\u00e9e par ce non-sens:\nC\u2019EUT \u00c9T\u00c9 NOTRE PERTE SANS AUCUN ESPOIR DE SALUT.\n[34] On a pass\u00e9 sous silence tout le commencement de ce paragraphe\net la moiti\u00e9 du pr\u00e9c\u00e9dent, dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne\ndu beau nom de Mme Tastu, o\u00f9, soi disant, on s\u2019est born\u00e9 au r\u00f4le de\nTRADUCTEUR FID\u00c8LE. P.B.\n[35] On a pass\u00e9 sous silence toute la fin de ce paragraphe dans la\ntraduction, indigne du beau nom de Mme Tastu, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on s\u2019est\nborn\u00e9 au r\u00f4le de TRADUCTEUR FID\u00c8LE. P.B.\n[36] On a supprim\u00e9 toute la fin de ce paragraphe, ainsi que la fin de\ntrois ou quatre paragraphes pr\u00e9c\u00e9dents et suivants, dans la traduction\ncontemporaine, indigne du beau nom de Mme Tastu, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on\ns\u2019est born\u00e9 au r\u00f4le de TRADUCTEUR FID\u00c8LE. P.B.\n[37] On a pass\u00e9 sous silence la fin de ce paragraphe et le\ncommencement du suivant dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du\nbeau nom de Mme Tastu.\u2014D\u00e9sormais nous nous abstiendrons de relever les\nmutilations que, dans la susdite traduction, on a fait subir \u00e0 toute\nla derni\u00e8re partie de ROBINSON: il faudrait une note \u00e0 chaque phrase.\nP.B.\n[38] Nous avions promis de ne plus faire de notes; cependant, il ne\nnous est gu\u00e8re possible de ne pas dire qu\u2019ici, dans la traduction\ncontemporaine indigne du beau nom de Mme Tastu, on a pass\u00e9 sous\nsilence CINQ pages et DEMIE du texte original, \u00e0 partir de _Vers le\nsoir_.... (page 534) jusqu\u2019\u00e0 _Le matin...._ (page 537): c\u2019est vraiment\ncommode.\nCorrections\n  p. 3: les remplac\u00e9 par tes (... tremper dans tes infortunes...)\n  p. 90: le \u2192 te (... apr\u00e8s cela te rediras-tu:...)\n  p. 105: restai \u2192 restais (... et je restais \u00e0 la maison...)\n  p. 107: marchai \u2192 marchais (... je marchais en avant...)\n  p. 111: lavais \u2192 l\u2019avais (... o\u00f9 je l\u2019avais laiss\u00e9:...)\n  p. 176: imaginables \u2192 imaginable (... toute la pr\u00e9caution\n  imaginable....)\n  p. 181: plut\u00f4t \u2192 plus t\u00f4t ((Cela ne me fut pas plus t\u00f4t entr\u00e9...)\n  p. 217: tr\u00e9lucher \u2192 par tr\u00e9bucher (il vit ma voile tr\u00e9bucher\n  et s\u2019\u00e9venter\u2026)\n  p. 223: l\u2019\u00e9treint \u2192 \u00e9treint (l\u2019ayant \u00e9treint dans ses bras,...)\n  p. 251: pesait \u2192 pesaient (\u2026 du danger de cette place pesaient\n  sur eux\u2026)\n  p. 281: rapeller \u2192 l\u2019appeler (... se mit \u00e0 l\u2019appeler...)\n  p. 317: ne \u2192 en (\u2026 je vis des larmes couler en abondance\u2026)\n  p. 329: Mot illisible \u2192 aube (\u2026 le lendemain matin avant l\u2019aube\u2026)\n  p. 332: halles \u2192 balles (... car les balles pass\u00e8rent dans\n  ses cheveux;...)\n  p. 368: hallebarbe \u2192 hallebarde (\u2026 arm\u00e9 d\u2019une hallebarde\u2026)\n  Note 9: Elles \u2192 telles (\u2026 des bagatelles telles que des lits.)\n  Variantes inchang\u00e9es\n  DEFO\u00cb et de Fo\u00eb.\n  Rhum et rum.\n  Trucheman et truchement.\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Aventures surprenantes de Robinson\nCruso\u00e9, by Daniel Defo\u00eb\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBINSON CRUSO\u00c9 ***\n***** This file should be named 57964-0.txt or 57964-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Claudine Corbasson, Christian Boissonnas and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\ngenerously made available by the Biblioth\u00e8que nationale\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by David Starner, Keith M. Eckrich, and the Project Gutenberg\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team\nThe Augustan Reprint Society\nDaniel Defoe\n_A Vindication of the Press_ (1718)\nWith an Introduction by Otho Clinton Williams\nPublication Number 29\nLos Angeles\nWilliam Andrews Clark Memorial Library\nUniversity of California\n_GENERAL EDITORS_\n  H. RICHARD ARCHER, _Clark Memorial Library_\n  RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_\n  EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_\n  JOHN LOFTIS, _University of California, Los Angeles_\n_ASSISTANT EDITOR_\n  W. EARL BRITTON, _University of Michigan_\n_ADVISORY EDITORS_\n  EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_\n  BENJAMIN BOYCE, _Duke University_\n  LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_\n  CLEANTH BROOKS, _Yale University_\n  JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_\n  ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_\n  LOUIS A. LANDA, _Princeton University_\n  SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_\n  ERNEST MOSSNER, _University of Texas_\n  JAMES SUTHERLAND, _Queen Mary College, London_\n  H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_\nINTRODUCTION\n_A Vindication of the Press_ is one of Defoe's most characteristic\npamphlets and for this reason as well as for its rarity deserves\nreprinting. Besides the New York Public Library copy, here reproduced,\nI know of but one copy, which is in the Indiana University Library.\nNeither the Bodleian nor the British Museum has a copy.\nLike many items in the Defoe canon, this tract must be assigned to him\non the basis of internal evidence; but this evidence, though\ncircumstantial, is convincing. W.P. Trent included _A Vindication_ in\nhis bibliography of Defoe in the _CHEL_, and later bibliographers of\nDefoe have followed him in accepting it. Since the copy here\nreproduced was the one examined by Professor Trent, the following\npassage from his ms. notes is of interest:\n     The tract was advertised, for \"this day,\" in the _St. James\n     Evening Post_, April 19-22, 1718. It is not included in the\n     chief lists of Defoe's writings, but it has been sold as\n     his, and the only copy I have seen, one kindly loaned me by\n     Dr. J.E. Spingarn, once belonged to some eighteenth century\n     owner, who wrote Defoe's name upon it. I was led by the\n     advertisement mentioned above to seek the pamphlet, thinking\n     it might be Defoe's; but I failed to secure a sight of it\n     until Professor Spingarn asked me whether in my opinion the\n     ascription to Defoe was warranted, and produced his copy.\nPerhaps the most striking evidence for Defoe's authorship of _A\nVindication_ is the extraordinary reference to his own natural parts\nand to the popularity of _The True-Born Englishman_ some seventeen\nyears after that topical poem had appeared [pp. 29f.]. Defoe was\njustly proud of this verse satire, one of his most successful works,\nand referred to it many times in later writings; it is hard to\nbelieve, however, that anyone but Defoe would have praised it in such\nfulsome terms in 1718.\nThe general homeliness and facility of the style, together with\ncharacteristic phrases which occur in his other writings, indicate\nDefoe's hand. Likewise homely similitudes and comparisons, specific\nparallels with his known work, and characteristic treatment of matter\nfamiliar in his other works, all furnish evidence of his authorship of\nthis pamphlet.\nJust what motive caused Defoe to write _A Vindication of the Press_ is\nnot clear. Unlike his earlier _An Essay on the Regulation of the\nPress_ (1704), _A Vindication_ does not seem to have been occasioned\nby a specific situation, and in it Defoe is not alone concerned with\nfreedom of the press, but writes on a more general and discursive\nlevel. His opening paragraph states that \"The very great Clamour\nagainst some late Performances of Authorship, and the unprecedented\nCriticisms introduc'd\" make such an essay as he writes \"absolutely\nnecessary.\" Yet there is no clear indication of just what works\noccasion this necessity. The ironic reference to Mr. Dennis at the end\nof the first paragraph, taken together with the praise of Mr. Pope's\ntranslation of Homer and the allusion to \"the malicious and violent\nCriticisms of a certain Gentleman in its Disfavour\" [p. 23], might\nsuggest that Defoe had in mind Dennis' _Remarks upon Mr. Pope's\nTranslation of Homer_, but even the entire body of writings attacking\nPope's _Homer_ would hardly seem sufficient to give point to this\nsomewhat omnibus and unfocused essay.\nEqually suggestive, perhaps, are Defoe's references to the Bangorian\ncontroversy and to Bishop Hoadley [pp. 10, 23]. This controversy raged\nfrom 1717 to 1720 and produced a spate of pamphlets (to which Defoe\ncontributed), many of which were marked by heated argument and\nacrimony. Defoe, with his liking for moderation, no doubt intended to\nmake an oblique criticism of the license of many of the Bangorian\ntracts. But these tracts are certainly not advanced as the prime\noccasion for _A Vindication_.\nDefoe points out in the first section of his essay how important is\nfreedom of the press as the foundation of the \"valuable liberties\" of\nEnglishmen. I have been unable to find any reference to a specific\nthreat of regulation of the press at this time that might have\noccasioned _A Vindication_. Nevertheless, it is possible that\nsentiment for control of the press, perhaps incited by the Bangorian\ncontroversy, was felt in 1718 and may have been a contributing motive\nto the composition of this tract. Whatever the immediate motives for\nwriting it may have been, the variety of its contents suggests that\nDefoe saw an opportunity to turn a penny, to express himself on a\nnumber of his pet subjects, and to defend his own position as a\nprofessional writer.\n_A Vindication_ is made up of three clearly marked sections: in the\nfirst the author vindicates the usefulness of writing; in the second\nhe discusses the usefulness--it would be more exact to say the\nharmfulness--of criticism; in the third he expatiates upon the\nqualifications of authors. One may admit at once the comparative\nworthlessness of the pamphlet as a contribution to criticism or\ncritical theory. Defoe's comments upon specific writers are thoroughly\nconventional and commonplace, as may be seen from a glance at his\nremarks about Milton, Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and others on p.\nOf more interest is his very high praise of Dryden, \"a Man for\nLearning and universal Writing in Poetry, perhaps the greatest that\nEngland has produc'd\" [p. l5], and his comment upon the critical\ndetraction from which he suffered. He compares Pope, interestingly\nenough, with Dryden, remarking that Pope (\"a Person tho' Inferior to\nMr. _Dryden_, yet speaking Impartially has few Superiors in this Age\")\nalso is persecuted by envy; and he has generous praise for that poet's\ntranslation of Homer. One may note that Defoe avoids the shortcomings\nof the critics whom he condemns for judging according to party. He\ndistributes his praise indiscriminately between Whig and Tory writers.\nIn short, his essay hardly does more than confirm the critical\ncommonplaces of the time and attest to the catholicity of the author's\ntaste.\nOf particular interest for students of Defoe is the paragraph [p. 2l]\nin which Defoe defends the hack-writers who must write for\nsubsistence. One should not expect their writings, which are\nnecessarily numerous, to be as correct and finished as they might be.\nAfter comparing their pens to prostitutes because of their venality,\nhe claims, in a half-ironic tone, for both authors and booksellers the\nliberty of writing and printing for either or both sides without\nignominy. After all, they must write and print to live. Such practice\nis certainly, he observes, no more unjust or disreputable than other\nways of gaining wealth such as one finds in Exchange-Alley.\nThis paragraph gains point when one remembers that Defoe had served\nboth Whig and Tory governments. In 1718, as letters written to Lord\nStanhope in that very year testify, he was engaged in the perhaps\ndubious business of masquerading as a Tory, while actually in the\nservice of the Whig ministry, to take the \"sting\" out of the more\nviolent Tory periodicals; and he was much concerned with the danger of\nhis ambiguous position. In December of 1717 he had been identified as\na writer for _Mist's Weekly Journal_, the leading Tory paper, and was\nsubjected to growing attacks in the Whig press. One can hardly doubt\nthat this paragraph is a thinly veiled defense of his own practice as\na professional journalist.\nIt is no surprise to find the author of _A Vindication_, in discussing\nthe qualifications of writers, advocating the importance of genius and\n\"Natural Parts\" above mere learning. He instances the author of _The\nTrue-Born Englishman_ and Shakespeare, the former \"Characteriz'd as a\nPerson of Little Learning, but of prodigious Natural Parts\" and the\nlatter having \"but a small share of Literature.\" The further example\nof the literary achievements of the \"Fair Sex,\" who had, of course, no\nuniversity education, reminds one of Defoe's championship elsewhere of\nwomen. The business of a writer is \"to please and inform,\" and the\ngeneral implication is that genius is more necessary to this end than\nlearning.\nAlso characteristic of Defoe is his emphasis upon the advantage to an\nauthor of conversation, \"the Aliment of Genius, the Life of all airy\nPerformances\" [p.32]. Likewise, his digression upon education [pp.\n34f.], his charge that people of quality in England all too often\nneglect their children's education, his remarks upon the advantages of\ntravel and the need of training in the vernacular, all will be\nfamiliar to readers of Defoe.\n_A Vindication of the Press_ is chiefly important for the\ncorroboration of our knowledge of Daniel Defoe. It presents nothing\nthat is new, but it gives further evidence of his pride in authorship,\nof his rationalization of his actions as a professional journalist,\nand of his belief in the importance of a free press. Many of his\ncharacteristic ideas are repeated with his usual consistency in point\nof view. Although the critical comments in the essay are thoroughly\nconventional, they offer evidence of contemporary literary judgments\nand reveal Defoe as a well-informed man of moderation and commonsense,\nthough certainly not as a profound critic. In the catholicity of his\ntastes and interests Defoe is far ahead of his Puritan fellows, and\nhis essay may be taken as one indication of the growing interest of\nthe middle-classes for whom he wrote in the greater world of\nliterature. As Professor Trent remarks in his ms. notes, \"Defoe rarely\nwrote a tract without introducing something worthy of attention and\ncomment, and the present pamphlet is no exception to the rule.\"\nI should like to thank Dr. Henry C. Hutchins for his generosity in\nmaking available to me Professor Trent's ms. notes on _A Vindication_\nand Dr. John Robert Moore for his kindness, criticisms, and\nsuggestions.\nOtho Clinton Williams\nSan Jose State College\nVindication of the Press:\nOR, AN ESSAY ON THE _Usefulness of Writing_, ON CRITICISM, AND THE\nQualification of AUTHORS.\nWherein is shewn,\nThat 'tis for the Advantage of all Governments to encourage Writing;\notherwise a Nation would never be secure from the Attempts of its most\nsecret Enemies; Barbarous and prejudic'd Criticisms on Writings are\ndetected, and Criticism is justly stated. With an Examination into\nwhat Genius's and Learning are necessary for an AUTHOR in all manner\nof Performances.\n_LONDON_:\nPrinted for _T. Warner_, at the _Black-Boy_ in Pater-Noster-Row.\nMDCCXVIII.\n[Price Sixpence.]\n[ILLUSTRATION]\nA Vindication of the PRESS:\nOR, AN ESSAY ON THE _Usefulness of Writing_, &c.\nThe very great Clamour against some late Performances or Authorship,\nand the unpresidented Criticisms introduc'd, render a Treatise on the\nUsefulness of Writing in general so absolutely necessary, that the\nAuthor of this Essay has not the least Apprehensions of Displeasure\nfrom the most inveterate, but on the contrary, doubts not an\nApprobation, even of the Great Mr. _Dennis_.\nFor the Usefulness of Writing in the Church, I shall trace back to the\nAnnals of our Saviour and his Apostles. Had not Writing been at that\nTime in use, what Obscurity might we reasonably have expected the\nwhole World would have labour'd under at this Day? when,\nnotwithstanding the Infidels possess such vast Regions, and Religion\nin its Purity shines but in a small Quarter of the Globe. 'Tis easy-to\nimagine, that without the New-Testament every Person of excellency in\nLiterature, and compleat in Hypocrisy, either out of Interest, or\nother worldly Views, would have taken the Liberty to deny the most\nSacred Traditions, and to have impos'd upon the Populace as many\nReligions as they pleas'd, and that the ignorant Multitude would\neasily acquiesce, as they do in _Turkey_, and other distant Parts of\nthe World, which deny the Divinity of our Saviour.\nWhat fatal Errors, Schisms, and concomitant Evils would have been\nintroduc'd, must be apparent to all Persons of the least Penetration.\nThe Quakers might at this Time possibly have been our National Church,\nand our present Happiness, with regard to those Considerations, can no\nway be more lively and amply demonstrated than in taking a step at\nonce from Mr. _Penn's_ Conventicle to the Cathedral Church of St.\n_Pauls_.\nThe Regularity and heavenly Decorum of the latter, give an Awe and\nTransport to the Audience at the same time they ornament Religion; and\nthe Confusion of the former fully shews, that as it only serves to\namuse a Crowd of ignorant Wretches, unless meerly with temporal Views\n(Sectarists generally calculating Religion for their Interests) so it\ngives a License to all manner of Indecencies, and the Congregations\nusually resort thither with the same Regard as a Rake of the Town\nwould do to Mother _Wybourn's_, or any publick Place of Diversion.\nWhether it be not natural to have expected a Confusion in the Church,\nequal to that of the worst Sectaries in the World, had not the Use of\nWaiting been early attain'd and practis'd, I appeal to the Breast of\nevery unprejudic'd Reader; and if so, how infinitely happy are we by\nthe Use of our Sacred Writings, which clear up the Cloud of Ignorance\nand Error, and give a Sanction to our Religion, besides the\nSatisfaction we of the Church of _England_ have in this felicitous\nContemplation, that our Religion, since the Reformation, strictly\nobserv'd, is the nearest that of our Saviour and his Apostles of any\nProfession of Faith upon Earth.\n'Tis owing to Writing, that we enjoy the purest Religion in the World,\nand exclusive of it, there would have been no possibility of\ntransmitting down entirely those valuable Maxims of _Solomon_, and the\nSufferings of the Righteous _Job_, in the old Testament; which are so\nextensive to all Parts and Stations of Life, that as they are\ninfinitely preferable to all other Writings of the Kind, so they\nafford the greatest Comfort and Repose in the Vicisitudes incident to\nHumane Nature.\nHow far Theology is improv'd from those inestimable Writings, I need\nnot to enlarge, since it is highly conspicuous that they are the\nFoundation of all Divine Literature; and how ignorant and imperfect we\nshould have been without them, is no great difficulty to explain; and\nwho can sufficiently admire the Psalter of _David_, which fills the\nSoul with Rapture, and gives an Anticipation of sublimest Joys.\nBesides the Advantages of Sacred Writings in the Cause of Religion;\n'tis chiefly owing to Writing, that we have our most valuable\nLiberties preserv'd; and 'tis observable, that the Liberty of the\nPress is no where restrain'd but in Roman Catholick Countries, or\nKingdoms, or States Exercising an Absolute Power.\nIn the Kingdom of _France_ Writings relating to the Church and State\nare prohibited upon the severest Penalties, and the Consequences of\nthose Laws are very Obvious to all Persons of Discernment here; they\nserve to secure the Subject in the utmost Obscurity, and as it were\nEffect an entire Ignorance, whereby an exorbitant Power is chearfully\nsubmitted to, and a perfect Obedience paid to Tyranny; and the\nIgnorance and Superstition of these People so powerfully prevail, that\nthe greatest Oppressor is commonly the most entirely Belov'd, which I\ntake to be sufficiently ently Illustrated in the late _Lewis_ the\nFourteenth, whose Arbitrary Government was so far from Diminishing the\nAffections of his Subjects, that it highten'd their Esteem for their\nGrand Monarch.\nBut of late the populace of _France_ are not so perfectly enclouded\nwith Superstition, and if a young Author can pretend to Divine, I\nthink it is easy to foresee that the papal Power will in a very short\nspace be considerably lessen'd if not in a great measure disregarded\nin that Kingdom, by the intestine Jarrs and Discords of their Parties\nfor Religion, and the Desultory Judgments of the most considerable\nPrelates.\nThe best Support of an Arbitrary Power is undoubtedly Ignorance, and\nthis cannot be better cultivated than by an Absolute Denial of\nPrinting; the Oppressions of the Popularity cannot be thoroughly\nStated, or Liberty in general Propagated without the use of the Press\nin some measure, and therefore the Subjects must inevitably submit to\nsuch Ordinances as an Ambitious or Ignorant Monarch and his Tyrannical\nCouncil shall think fit to impose upon them, how Arbitrary soever: And\nthe Hands of the Patriots and Men of Eminence who should Illuminate\nthe Age, and open the Eyes of the deluded People are thereby tied up,\nand the Infelicity of the Populace so compleat that they are incapable\nof either seeing their approaching Misery, or having a redress of\npresent Grievances.\nIn _Constantinople_ I think they have no such thing as Printing\nallow'd on any Account whatsoever; all their Publick Acts relating to\nthe Church and State are recorded in Writing by expert Amanuensis's,\nso very strict are the Divan and great Council of the Sultan in\nprohibiting the Publication of all manner of Writings: They are very\nsensible had Persons a common Liberty of stating their own Cases, they\nmight Influence the Publick so far, that the Yoke of Tyranny must sink\nif not be rendred insupportable; and this is regarded in all Kingdoms\nand Countries upon Earth Govern'd by a Despotick Power.\nTo what I have already offer'd in favour of the Press, there may be\nExceptions taken by some Persons in the World; and as it is my\nIntentions to solve all Objections that may be rais'd to what I\nadvance, as I proceed, I think I cannot too early make known, that I\nam apprehensive the following Observations may be made; _viz._ that a\ngeneral License of the Press is of such a fatal Tendency, that it\ncauses Uneasinesses in the State, Confusions in the Church, and is\ndestructive sometimes even to Liberty, by putting the ruling Powers\nupon making Laws of Severity, on a Detection of ill Designs against\nthe State, otherwise never intended.\nIn answer to which, I shall give the following Particulars: In respect\nto Uneasinesses in the State, it may not be amiss to premise, that it\nis esteem'd by Men of Penetration, no small Wisdom in the present\nAdministration, to bestow Preferments on the brightest and most\nenterprising Authors of the Age; but whether it be so much out of a\nRegard to the Service they are capable of to the State in their\nEmploys, as to their Writing for the Government, and to answer\ntreasonable Pamphlets, poison'd Pens, _&c._ I do not take upon me to\ndetermine. I must confess, where a Faction prevails, it gives a\nsensible Monarch some Pain to see Disafection propagated by the Press,\nwithout any manner of Restraint; but then, on the other Hand, such a\nRuler is thereby let into the Secrets of the Faction, he may with\nfacility penetrate into their deepest Intrigues, and be enabled to\navert an impending Storm. Upon approach of a Rebellion, he will be\nthoroughly sensible from what Quarter his greatest Danger is to be\nexpected, whereby it will be entirely his own Fault, if he be without\na sufficient Guard against it, which he could not be appriz'd of (with\nany certainty) without a general Liberty of Writing: And tho' Slander\nmust occasion a great deal of Uneasiness to a crown'd Head, the Power\nof bestowing Favours on Friends only is no small Satisfaction to the\nPrince, and a sufficient Punishment to his Enemies. And it is my\nOpinion, that the Grand Sultan, and other Eastern Potentates, would be\nin a great deal less danger of Deposing, (a Practice very frequent of\nlate) if in some measure a Liberty of Writing was allow'd; for the\nEyes of the People would be open, as well for as against their Prince,\nand their fearing a worse Evil should succeed, might make them easy\nunder a present Oppression.\nAs for Confusion in the Church, I look upon this to be the greatest\nObjection that can be raised; but then it must be allow'd, that\nwithout Writing the Reformation (the Glory of our Religion) could\nnever have been effected; and in respect to religious Controversies,\ntho' I own they are seldom attended with good Consequences, yet I must\nbeg leave to observe, that as the Age we now live in, is more bright\nand shining in substantial Literature than any preceding Century, so\nthe generality of Mankind are capable of judging with such an\nExactness as to avoid a Bad; not but, I confess, I think many of the\nPersons concern'd in the Controversy lately on foot, with relation to\nthe Bishop of _Bangor's_ Sermon, preach'd before His Majesty, deserve\nto be stigmatiz'd, as well for their indecent Heat, as for the\nLatitude taken with regard to the Holy Scriptures. And for the last\nObjection, I never knew that Writing was any ways destructive to\nLiberty, unless it was in a Pamphlet, [entitled King-Killing no\nMurder] which 'tis said occasion'd the Death of _Oliver Cromwel_.\nThese are the Uses of Writings in the Church and the State, with\nAnswers to such Objections as may be made against them, not to mention\nparticularly in respect to the former, the Writings of the Fathers,\nand even of some Heathen Philosophers, such as _Seneca_, &c. And\nbesides the valuable Performances of our most eminent Divines in all\nAges, as Dr. _Taylor_, Bishop _Usher, Tillotson, Beveridge_ &c. and\n_The whole Duty of Man_, &c. in our private Devotions. I now proceed\nto the Uses in Arts and Sciences.\nHow much Posterity will be oblig'd to the Great Sir _Isaac Newton_ and\nDoctor _Flamstead_ for their Mathematical Writings, is more easy to\nimagine than the Improvements which may be made from thence; there's a\ngreat deal of Reason to believe, that if a future Age produces a\nSuccessor to Sir _Isaac_, (at present I take it, there's none in the\nWorld) that not only the Longitude at Sea will be discover'd, but the\nperpetual Motion, so many Ages sought after, found out.\nHow much are the Gentlemen of the Law oblig'd to my Lord _Littleton's_\nInstitutes and _Coke's_ Commentaries thereupon? Writing in this\nProfession is esteem'd so Essential, that there's seldom a Judge quits\nthe Stage of Life, without a voluminous Performance, as a Legacy to\nthe World, and there's rarely a Term without some Production of the\nPress: The Numbers of these Writings are very much augmented by the\nvarious Reports of Cases from Time to Time made; and these seem to be\nentirely necessary by way of Precedent, as a discreet and cautious\nJustice will not take upon him to determine a Cause of difficulty\nwithout the Authority of a Precedent.\nAnd in the Practice of Physick, are not the present Professors\ninfinitely obliged to the Discoveries and Recipes of _Aristotle_,\n_Galen_, &c? How much the World is oblig'd to the Declamations of\n_Tully_, _Cicero_, for Oratory; to the famous Writings of _Milton_ for\nthe Foundation of Divine Poetry; Poetry in general is improv'd from\nthe Writings of _Chaucer_, _Spencer_, and others; Dramatick\nEntertainments perfected by _Shakespear_; our Language and Poetry\nrefin'd by _Dryden_; the Passions rais'd by _Otway_; the Inclination\nmov'd by _Cowley_; and the World diverted by _Hudibras_, (not to\nmention the Perfections of Mr. _Addison_, and several others of this\nAge) I leave to the Determination of every impartial Reader.\n'Tis by Writing that Arts and Sciences are Cultivated, Navigation and\nCommerce (by which alone Wealth is attain'd) to the most distant parts\nof the World Improv'd, Geography Compleated, the Languages, Customs\nand Manners of Foreign Nations known; and there is scarce any one\nMechanick calling of Note or Signification, but Treatises have been\nwritten upon, to transmit the valuable Observations of Ingenious\nArtificers to the latest Posterity.\nThere might be innumerable Instances given of the Advantages of\nWritings in all Cases, but I shall satisfy my self with the\nparticulars already advanc'd, and proceed to such Objections, as I am\napprehensive may be made relating to the Writings last mentioned.\nFirst, it may be Objected that the numerous Writings tend more to\nconfound the Reader, than to inform him; to this I answer, that it is\nimpossible there can be many Writings produced, but there must be some\nvaluable Informations communicated, easy to be Collected by a\njudicious Reader; tho' there may be a great deal superfluous, and\nnotwithstanding it is a considerable Charge to purchase a useful\nLibrary, (the greatest Grievance) yet we had better be at that\nExpence, than to have no Books publish'd, and consequently no\nDiscoveries; the same Reason may be given where Books in the Law,\nPhysick, &c. are imperfect in some Part, and tend to the misleading\nPersons; for of two Evils the old Maxim is, always chuse the least.\nThe only Objection that I do not take upon me to Defend, is, that\nagainst Lewd and obscene Poetry in general; (for sometimes the very\ngreat Wit may make it excuseable) which in my Opinion will admit of\nbut a slender Apology in its Defence.\nThe use of Writing is Illustrated in the following Lines, which\nconclude my first Head of this Essay.\n  _By ancient Writing Knowledge is convey'd,\n  Of famous Arts the best Foundation laid;\n  By these the Cause of Liberty remains,\n  Are Nations free'd from Arbitrary Chains,\n  From Errors still our Church is purified,\n  The State maintained, with justice on its Side._\nI now advance to my second Particular, _Criticism_.\nThe fatal Criticism or Damnation which the Writings of some Authors\nmeet with thro' their Obscurity, want of Friends and Interest in the\nWorld, &c. is very discouraging to the Productions of Literature:\nIt is the greatest difficulty immaginable, for an obscure Person to\nEstablish a Reputation in any sort of Writing; he's a long time in the\nsame Condition with _Sisyphus_, rolling a heavy Stone against an\naspiring Mount which perpetually descends again; it must be to his\nbenign Stars, some lucky Subject suiting the Humour of the Times, more\nthan the Beauty of his Performance, which he will be oblig'd for his\nRise: And in this Age Persons in general, are so Estrang'd from bare\nMerit, that an Author destitute of Patronage will be equally\nUnsuccessful to a Person without Interest at Court, (and you'll as\nrarely find the Friendship of an _Orestes_, as the Chastity of\n_Penelope_) When a Man of Fortune has no other Task, than to give out\na stupid Performance to be of his own Composing, and he's immediately\nrespected as a Celebrated Writer: And if a Man has the good Fortune to\nhit the capricious Humour of the Age; after he has attained a\nReputation with the utmost Difficulty, he's sure to meet with the\nseverest Treatment, from a herd of Malicious and Implacable Scriblers.\nThis was the Case of the late Mr. _Dryden_, a Man for Learning and\nuniversal Writing in Poetry, perhaps the Greatest that _England_ has\nproduc'd; he was Persecuted by Envy, with the utmost Inveteracy for\nmany Years in Succession: And is the Misfortune at this Juncture of\nMr. _Pope_, a Person tho' Inferior to Mr. _Dryden_, yet speaking\nImpartially has few Superiors in this Age: From these Considerations\nit is Evident, (tho' it seems a Paradox) that it is a Reputation to be\nScandaliz'd, as a Person in all Cases of this Nature is allow'd some\nMerit, when Envy attacks him, and the World might not be sensible of\nit in General, without a publick Encounter in Criticism; and many\nAuthors would be Buried in Oblivion were they not kept alive by\nClamours against their Performances.\nThe Criticks in this Age are arriv'd to that consummate Pitch of\nill-nature, that they'll by no means permit any Person the favour to\nBlunder but their mighty selves, and are in all respects, except the\nOffice of a Critick, in some measure ill Writers; I have known an\nunnatural Brother of the Quill causless condemn Language in the\nWritings of other Persons, when his own has really been the meanest;\nto Accuse others of Inconsistency with the utmost Vehemence, when his\nown Works have not been without their \u00c6ra's, and to find fault with\nevery Line in a Poem, when he has been wholly at a loss to Correct, or\nat least not capable of Writing one single Page of it.\nThere are another sort of Criticks, which are equally ill-natur'd to\nthese I have mention'd, tho' in all other respects vastly inferior to\nthem: They are such as no sooner hear of a Performance compos'd by a\nJuvenile Author, or one not hitherto known in the way of Writing he\nhas undertaken; but immediately without reading a Line give it a Stamp\nof Damnation; (not considering that the first Performance of an Author\nin any way of Writing done carefully, is oftentimes the best) and if\nthey had thoroughly perus'd it, they were no ways capable of Judging\nof either the Sense, Language, or Beauty of any one Paragraph; and\nwhat is still worse, these ignorant Slanderers of Writings frequently\ntake what other Persons report for Authority, who know as little, or\nperhaps are more Ignorant than themselves, so little Regard have they\nto the Reputation of an Author.\nAnd sometimes you'll find a pert _Bookseller_ give himself the Airs of\nJudging a Performance so far, as to Condemn the Correctness of what he\nknows nothing of these there's a pretender to Authorship in the City,\nwho Rules the young Fry of Biblioples about the _Royal-Exchange_.\nBut the _Booksellers_ in general, (tho' they commonly Judge of the\nGoodness of Writings, by the greatness of the Sale,) are Very sensible\nthat their greatest Security in respect to the Performance of any\nWork, is the Qualification of the Person that Composes it, the\nConfidence they can Repose in him; his Capacity, Industry and\nVeracity; And the Author's Reputation is so far concern'd in a\nPerformance, which he owns that the _Bookseller_ will sooner rely upon\nthat, than his own Judgment.\nTo descend still to a lower Order of Criticks, you'll find very few\nCoffee-Houses in this opulent City without an illiterate Mechanick,\nCommenting upon the most material Occurrences, and Judging the Actions\nof the greatest Councils in _Europe_, and rarely a Victualing House,\nbut you meet with a _Tinker, a Cobler, or a Porter_, Criticizing upon\nthe Speeches of Majesty, or the Writings of the most celebrated Men of\nthe Age.\nThis is entirely owing to Party, and there is such a Contagion\ndiffuses it self thro' the greatest Part of the World at this Time,\nthat it is impossible for a Man to acquire a universal Character in\nWriting, as it is inconsistent for him to engage in Writings for both\nParties at one and the same Time, (whatever he may do alternately)\nwithout which such a Character is not attainable; and these contending\nParties carry Things to that Extremity, that they'll by no means allow\nthe least Merit in the most perfect Author, who adheres to the\nopposite Side; his Performances will be generally unheeded, if not\nblasted, and frequently damn'd, as if, like _Coelus_, he were capable\nof producing nothing but Monsters; he shall be in all Respects\ndepress'd and debas'd, at the same time an illiterate Scribler, an\nauspicious Ideot of their own (with whose Nonsense they are never\nsated) shall be extoll'd to the Skies: Herein, if a Man has all the\nQualifications necessary in Poetry, as an Elegance of Style, an\nExcellency of Wit, and a Nobleness of Thought; were Master of the most\nsurprizing Turns, fine Similies, and of universal Learning, yet he\nshall be despis'd by the Criticks, and rang'd amongst the damn'd\nWriters of the Times.\nThe Question first ask'd is, whether an Author is a Whig or a Tory; if\nhe be a Whig, or that Party which is in Power, his Praise is\nresounded, he's presently cried up for an excellent Writer; if not,\nhe's mark'd as a Scoundrel, a perpetual Gloom hangs over his Head; if\nhe was Master of the sublime Thoughts of _Addison_, the easy flowing\nNumbers of _Pope_, the fine Humour of _Garth_, the beautiful Language\nof _Rowe_, the Perfection of _Prior_, the Dialogue of _Congreve_, and\nthe Pastoral of _Phillips_, he must nevertheless submit to a mean\nCharacter, if not expect the Reputation of an Illitterate.\nWritings for the Stage are of late so very much perverted by the\nViolence of Party, that the finest Performance, without Scandal,\ncannot be supported; _Shakespear_ and _Ben Johnson_, were they, now\nliving, would be wholly at a Loss in the Composure of a Play suitable\nto the Taste of the Town; without a promiscuous heap of Scurrility to\nexpose a Party, or, what is more detestable, perhaps a particular\nPerson, no Play will succeed, and the most execrable Language, in a\nComedy, produc'd at this Time, shall be more applauded than the most\nbeautiful Turns in a _Love for Love_: Such are the Hardships a\nDramatick-Poet has to struggle with, that either Obscenity, Party, or\nScandal must be his Theme, and after he has performed his utmost in\neither of these Ways, without a powerful Interest, he'll have more\nDifficulty in the bringing his Play upon the Theatre than in the\nWriting, and sometimes never be able to accomplish it.\nThese are the Inconveniencies which Writers for the Stage labour\nunder, besides 'tis observable, that an obsequious prolifick Muse\ngenerally meets with a worse Reception than a petulant inanimate\nAuthor; and when a Poet has finished his Labours, so that he has\nbrought his Play upon the Stage, the best Performance has oftentimes\nthe worst Success, for which I need only instance Mr. _Congreve's Way\nof the World_, a Comedy esteem'd by most Persons capable of judging,\nno way inferior to any of his other Performances.\nA Choice of Actors, next to Interest and Popularity, is the greatest\nAdvantage to a new Play: If a Stage-Poet has the Misfortune not to\nhave a sufficient Influence over the Managers of the Theatres to make\na Nomination, his Performance must very much suffer; and if he cannot\nentirely Command his Theatre, and Season for bringing it on, it will\nbe perfectly slaughter'd; and a certain Theatre has lately acquir'd\nthe Name of a _Slaughter-House_, but whether more for the Stupidity of\nits Poets than its Actors, I do not pretend to determine; but certain\nit is, that Acting is the Life of all Dramatick-Performances. And tho'\nan indifferent Play may appear tolerable, with good Acting, it is\nimpossible a bad one can afford any Entertainment, when perform'd by\nan incompleat Set of Comedians.\nIn respect to Writings in general, there is an unaccountable Caprice\nin abundance of Persons, to Condemn or Commend a Performance meerly by\na Name. The Names of some Writers will effectually recommend, without\nmaking an Examination into the Merit of the Work; and the Names of\nother Persons, equally qualified for Writing, and perhaps of greater\nLearning than the Former, shall be sufficient to Damn it; and all this\nis owing either to some lucky Accident of writing apposite to the\nHumour of the Town, (wherein an agreeable Season and a proper Subject\nare chiefly to be regarded) or to Prejudice, but most commonly the\nFormer.\nIt is a Misfortune to Authors both in Prose and Verse, who are reduc'd\nto a Necessity of constant writing for a Subsistence, that the\nnumerous Performances, publish'd by them, cannot possibly be so\ncorrect as they might be, could more Time be afforded in the\nComposure. By this Means there is sometimes just room for Criticism\nupon the best of their Productions, and these Gentlemen,\nnotwithstanding it be never so contrary to their Inclinations, are\nentirely oblig'd to prostrate their Pens to the Town, as Ladies of\nPleasure do their Bodies; tho' herein, in respect to Party, it is to\nbe observ'd, that a Bookseller and an Author may very well be allow'd\noccasionally to be of either Party, or at least, that they should be\npermitted the Liberty of Writing and Printing of either Side for\nBread, free from Ignominy; and as getting Money is the chief Business\nof the World, so these Measures cannot by any means be esteem'd Unjust\nor Disreputable, with regard to the several Ways of accumulating\nWealth, introduc'd in _Exchange-Alley_, and at the other End of the\nTown.\nIt is a common Practice with some Persons in the World, either to\nprefix the Name of a _Mecanas_ in the Front of their Performances, or\nto obtain recommendatory Lines from some Person of excellency in\nWriting, as a Protection against Criticism; and there is nothing more\nfrequent than to see a mean Performance (especially if it be done by a\nMan of Figure) with this Guard.\n'Tis true, the worst Performances have the greatest occasion of these\nRamparts, but then the Person who takes upon him to Recommend, must\nhave such an absolute Authority and Influence over the generality of\nMankind, as to silence all Objections, or else it will have a contrary\nTurn, by promoting a Criticism as well upon the Author as upon\nhimself; for which Reason it is very hazardous for a Person in a\nmiddle Station (tho' he have never so great a Reputation in Writing)\nto engage in the Recommendation of the Writings of others.\nThe severe Treatment which the brightest Men of the Age have met with\nfrom the Criticks, is sufficient to deter all young Gentlemen from\nentring the Lists of Writing; and was not the World in general more\ngood-natur'd and favourable to youthful Performances than the\nCriticks, there would be no such thing as a Succession of Writings;\nwhereas, by that Means, and his present Majesty's Encouragement,\nLiterature is in a flourishing Condition, and Poetry seems to improve\nmore at this Time than it has done in any preceding Reign, except that\nof King _Charles_ II. when there was a _Rochester_, a _Sidley_, a\n_Buckingham_, &c. And (setting aside Party) what the World may hope\nfrom a generous Encouragement of polite Writing, I take to be very\nconspicuous from Mr. _Pope's_ Translation of _Homer_, notwithstanding\nthe malicious and violent Criticisms of a certain Gentleman in its\nDisfavour.\nIn the religious Controversy of late depending, Criticisms have been\ncarried to that height, that some Persons have pretended to fix false\nGrammer on one of the most celebrated Writers perhaps at this Time in\n_Europe_, but how justly, I leave to the Determination of those who\nhave perused the Bishop's incomparable Answer; but admitting his\nLordship had permitted an irregularity of Grammer to pass unobser'd\n[typo for \"unobserv'd\"?], he is not the first of his Sacred Character\nthat has done it, and small Errors of this kind are easily looked\nover, where the Nominative Case is at a distance from the Verb, or a\nPerformance is done in haste, the Case of the Bishop against so many\npowerful Adversaries. Besides, it is apparent and well known, that a\ncertain Person [_Mr._ Lessey, _now with the_ Chevalier.] in the World,\nwho has a very great Reputation in Writing, never regards the strict\nRules of Grammer in any of his Performances.\nIt is a Satisfaction to Authors of tender Date, to see their Superiors\nthus roughly handled by the Criticks; a young Writer in Divinity will\nnot think his Case desperate, when the shining _Bangor_ has met with\nsuch malevolent Treatment; neither must a youthful Poet be uneasy at a\nsevere Criticism, when the Great Mr. _Addison, Rowe_ and _Pope_ have\nbeen treated with the utmost Scurrility.\nThese Men of Eminence sitting easy with a load of Calumny, is a\nsufficient Consolation to Inferiors under the most despicable Usage,\nand there is this satisfactory Reflection, that perhaps the most\nperfect Work that ever was compos'd, if not so entirely correct, but\nthere may be some room for Criticism by a Man of consummate Learning;\nfor there is nothing more common than to find a Man, (if not wholly\nblind) over opiniated in respect to his own Performances, and too\nexact in a Scrutiny into the Writings of others.\nThe ill Nature attending Criticism I take to be greater now than in\nany Age past; a Man's Defects in Writing shall not only be expos'd,\nbut all the personal Infamy heap'd upon him that is possible; his\nDescent and Education shall be scandaliz'd, (as if a fine Performance\nwas the worse for the Author's Parentage) his good Name villified, a\nHistory of the Transactions of his whole Life, and oftentimes a great\ndeal more, shall be written, as if the were a Candidate setting up in\na Burough for Member of Parliament, not an airy[?] or loose Action\nshall be omitted, and neither the Sacred Gown, nor the greatest\nDignity shall be exempted; but there is this Consideration which sways\nthe sensible part of Mankind, _viz._ a Man of Excellency in Writing\nhis being generally a Person of more Vivacity than the common Herd,\nand consequently the more extraordinary Actions in him are allowable;\nyet, nevertheless, I think it consistent with Prudence for an Author,\nwhen he has the good fortune to compose a Piece, which he's assur'd\nwill occasion Envy and Criticism, to write his own Life at the same\nTime with it, tho' it be a little extravagant and the method is\nunusual, to prevent an ill-natur'd doing thereof by the Hand of\nanother Person.\nAccording to the old Maxim, _Get a Reputation, and lye a Bed,_ not to\nmention how many lye a Bed before they can attain it, according to the\nhumorous Turn of the late ingenious Mr. _Farqubar_; but there's at\nthis Time a greater necessity for a Man to be wakeful, when he has\nacquir'd a Reputation, than at any Time before; he'll find abundantly\nmore difficulty attend the Securing than the Attaining of the greatest\nReputation; he'll meet with Envy from every Quarter; Malice will\npursue him in all his undertakings, and if he makes any manner of\nDefence, he cannot commence it too soon, tho' it is not always\nprudential to shew an open Resentment, even to the utmost ill\nTreatment.\nIf a Man be so considerable as to be thought worthy of Criticism, a\nluducrous Reprimand is always preferable to a serious Answer;\nreturning Scurrility with Comic-Satyr will gaul an ill-natur'd\nAdversary beyond any Treatment whatsoever; his Spleen will encrease\nequal to any Poison, his Rage keep within no Bounds, and at length his\nPassion will not only destroy his own Performance, but himself\nlikewise: And this I take to be natural in our modern Criticks.\nThe Business of these Gentlemen is to set the ignorant Part of Mankind\nright, In correcting the Errors of pretending Authors, and exposing of\nImpositions, whereby who has Learning and Merit, and who has not, may\nbe so apparent, that the World may not misplace their Favour; but\nunless they do it with more Impartiality, Temper and Candour than of\nlate, they may, with equal prospect of Success, endeavour to turn the\ncurrent of the Thames, as to pervert the Humour of this good-natur'd\nTown.\nI presume to present them with these two Verses:\n  _The learned Criticks learn not to be Civil,\n  In Spite and Malice personate the Devil._\nHaving now dispatch'd the two first Subjects of my Essay _(viz.)_ The\nUsefulness of Writing, and Criticism, I come to my last Head, the\nQualification of Authors.\nI am not of the Opinion of a great many Persons in the World, that a\nPoet is entirely born such, and that Poetry is a particular Gift of\nHeaven, not but I confess there is a great deal in natural Genius,\nwhich I shall mention hereafter:\nIt is consistent with my Reason, that any Man having a share of\nLearning, and acquainted with the Methods of Writing, may by an\nassiduous Application, not only write good Poetry, but make a\ntollerable Figure in any sort of Writings whatsoever; and herein I\ncould give numerous Instances of Authors who have written all manner\nof Ways with success. Neither can I acquiesce in the common Notion,\nthat the Person who begins most early in Poetry always arrives to the\ngreatest Perfection; for, in my Opinion, it is a Matter of no great\ndifficulty, for a Person of any Age, before his Vivacity is too much\nabated, and Fire exhausted, to commence a Poet; the great Mr. _Dryden_\nnot beginning to Write 'till he was above the Age of 30; and I doubt\nnot but a great many Persons have lost themselves for want of putting\ntheir Genius's to the Trial, and making particular Writings their\nparticular Studies.\nTheir is no Practice more frequent than for an Author to misapply his\nGenius; and there is nothing more common than for a Man, after\nnumerous Trials in almost all sorts of Authorship, to make that his\nfavourite Writing which he is least capable of performing; and too\nfrequently Authors use their Genius's as Parents do their Children,\nplace them to such Businesses as make the most considerable Figure in\nthe World, without consulting their Qualifications.\nThere are many other Faults equal to these, as where Authors, through\novermuch Timerity, or too great Opinion of their own Performances,\npermit their Writings to pass with egregious Errors; and I take it to\nbe equally pernicious for a Man to be too diffident of his own\nPerformances, as it is to be presuming: There are likewise some\nGentlemen, who (by a lazy Disposition, or through over much Haste, an\nimpatience in dispatch to gain an early Reputation) commit Blunders\nalmost to their immediate Ruin; but many of these Errors are commonly\nexcus'd in an Author by a condescending Printer, who is oblig'd to\ntake the Errata upon himself.\nIn Prose a slight Examination of a Performance may suffice, but in\nPoetry it cannot be too often repeated; and in this way of Writing,\nhaste is attended with a fatal Consequence. To compose your Lines in\nperfect Harmony, of easy flowing Numbers, fine Flights and Similies,\nand at the same Time retain a strong Sense, which make Poetry\nsubstantially Beautiful, is a Work of Time, and requires the most\nsedate Perusals: And though some Persons think, giving Poetry the\nCharacter of easy Lines to be a Disgrace, it is rightly considered the\ngreatest Reputation and Honour they can do it; the utmost Difficulty\nattending this easy Writing, and there are very few Persons that can\never attain it.\nBut to leave these general Observations, I proceed to my Point in\nHand, the Qualification of Authors; Though I shall first take Notice,\nthat the Business of every Author is to please and inform his Readers;\nbut how difficult it is to please, through the prevalence of Parties,\nEnvy and Prejudice needs no Illustration, and some Persons in the\nWorld are so very perverse and obstinate, that they will not be\ninform'd by a Person they entertain no good Opinion of. For writing\nProse a Man ought to have a tollerable Foundation of Learning, at\nleast to be Master of the Latin Tongue, to be a good Historian, and to\nhave a perfect Knowledge of the World; and besides these\nQualifications, in Poetry as I have before observ'd, a Writer should\nbe Master of the most refin'd and beautiful Language, surprizing\nTurns, fine adapted Similes, a sublimity of Thought, and to be a\nPerson of universal Learning: Though I have often observ'd, both in\nProse and Verse, that some Persons of strong Genius, well acquainted\nwith the World, and but of little Learning, have made a better Figure\nin some kinds of Writings, than Persons of the most consummate\nLiterature, not bless'd with natural Genius, and a Knowledge of\nMankind.\nThe preference of Genius to Learning, is sufficiently Demonstrated in\nthe Writings of the Author of the _True born English Man_; (a Poem\nthat has Sold beyond the best Performance of any Ancient or Modern\nPoet of the greatest Excellency, and perhaps beyond any Poetry ever\nPrinted in the _English_ Language) This Author is Characteriz'd as a\nPerson of little Learning, but of prodigious Natural Parts; and the\nimmortal _Shakespear_ had but a small share of Literature: It is\nlikewise worthy Observation, that some of our most entertaining\nComedies, Novels and Romances have been Written by the fair Sex, who\ncannot be suppos'd to have Learning in any Degree equal to Gentlemen\nof a University Education. And in _North Britain_ where Literature\nshines amongst the Persons of middle Station, an Ounce of Natural\nParts, (speaking in a common way of Comparison) is Esteem'd of greater\nValue, than a Pound of Learning.\nA Person of Learning without Genius and Knowledge of the World, is\nlike an _Architect's_ Assistant, whose only Business is to Draw the\nDraught or Model of a Pile of Building; he's at a loss in the\nMaterials necessary for compleating the Structure, tho' he can Judge\nof its Beauty when Perfected; and may be compared to a Man that has\nthe theory in any Art or Science, but wants the Practice.\nAnd a meer Scholar is the most unacceptable Companion upon Earth: He\nis Rude in his Manners, Unpolish'd in his Literature, and generally\nIll-Natur'd to the last Degree; he's Company for a very few Persons,\nand Pleasing to None; his Pride exalts him in Self-Opinion beyond all\nMankind: And some of the sucking Tribe of _Levi_, think the Gown and\nCassock alone, Merit a Respect due to the greatest Personages, and\nthat the broad Hat with the Rose should be Ador'd, tho' it covers a\nthick and brainless Skull.\nBut these are a few only; there are great Numbers of the Clergy who\ndeserve the utmost Respect, and are justly paid more than they desire;\nand no Person can have a greater Regard for that sacred Body than my\nself, as I was not only intended for a Clergyman, but have several\nRelations now in being of that venerable Order; Tho' I am oblig'd to\ntake Notice, that the Authors of the Gown in general, treat the World\nwith greater Insolence and Incharity, than any Lay-Persons whatsoever.\nThere's nothing more frequent, than to find the Writings of many of\nour Modern Divines, not only Stiff and Harsh, but full of Rancour, and\nto find an easy Propensity and Complaisance in the Writings of the\nLaity; a Gentleman without the Gown commonly Writes with a genteel\nRespect to the World, abundance of good Temper and a condescension\nEndearing; when a brawny Priest, shall shew a great deal of\nIll-nature, give indecent Reflections, and affrontive Language, and\noftentimes be Dogmatical in all his Performances.\nWhether this be owing more to Pride, than a want of an Easy, Free, and\npolite Conversation, I do not take upon me to Determine; but I believe\nit must be generally Imputed to the Former, as it cannot be suppos'd,\nthat either of the Universities, are at any time without a polite\nConverse; tho' I take leave to observe, that there is a great deal of\ndifference between a finish'd _Oxonian_, and a sprightly Senator.\nThis is Demonstrated in the Speeches from Time to Time, made in the\nSenate and the Synod; the Stile and Composure of the one, is no way to\nbe compar'd to the other, tho' the Sense be equally strong; there's an\nElegancy and Beauty of Expression in the Former, not to be met with in\nthe Latter, Oratory no where to be exceeded, and an Affluence of Words\nnot to be met with in any other Speeches whatsoever; and I believe it\nmust be generally allow'd that there is a very great difference in the\ncommon Conversation, (particularly in point of Manners) of the Members\nof those August Assemblies.\nA good Conversation is the greatest Advantage an Author can possibly\nEnjoy, by a variety of Converse, a Man is furnish'd with a perpetual\nVariety of Hints, and may acquire a greater Knowledge on some Subjects\nin the space of a few Minutes, than he can attain by Study, in a\nSuccession of Weeks, (tho' I must allow Study to be the only\nFoundation for Writing) 'twas owing to a good Conversation, that those\nEntertaining Papers the _Tatlers_ were publish'd by Sir _Richard\nSteel_, the _Examiner_ carried on by Mr. _Oldsworth_; and 'tis\nimpossible a perfect good Comedy can be written by any Person, without\na constant Resort to the best Conversation, whereby alone a Man will\nbe Master of the best Thoughts.\nIn short, Conversation is the Aliment of the Genius, the Life of all\nairy Performances, as Learning is the Soul; the various Humours of\nMankind, upon all Occasions, afford the most agreeable Subjects for\nall sorts of Writings, and I look upon any Performance, tho' done by a\nPerson celebrated for Writing, without the use of Conversation, in\nsome measure incompleat.\nIf an Author be enclin'd to write for Reformation of Manners, let him\nrepair to St. _Pauls_ or _Westminster-Abbey_, and observe the indecent\nBehaviour of multitudes of Persons, who make those Sacred Places\nAssignations of Vice; if you are enclin'd to lash the Follies and\nVanities of the fair Sex, retire to the Tea Table and the Theatre; if\nyour Business be to compose a Sermon, or you are engag'd in\nTheological Studies, resort to _Child's_ Coffee-House in St. _Paul's_\nChurch-Yard; if you are desirous to depaint the Cheat and the\nTrickster, I recommend ye to the _Royal-Exchange_ and the Court End of\nthe Town; and if you would write a Poem in imitation of _Rochester_,\nyou need only go to the Hundreds of _Drury_, and you'll be\nsufficiently furnish'd with laudable Themes.\nBut Converse at home falls infinitely short of Conversation abroad,\nand the Advantages attending Travelling are so very great, that they\nare not to be express'd; this finishes Education in the most effectual\nmanner, and enables a Man to speak and write on all Occasions with a\nGrace and Perfection, no other way to be attain'd. The Travels of a\nyoung Gentleman have not only the effect of transplation of\nVegetables, in respect to the encrease of Stature, but also the\nConsequence of the most beautiful Pruning. How much the Gentlemen of\n_Scotland_ owe their Capacities to Travelling, is very obvious, there\nbeing no Person of Quality in that Kingdom but expends the greatest\npart of his Fortune in other Countries, to reap the Benefit of it in\npersonal Accomplishments; and a greater Commendation than this to the\n_Scots_ is, the bestowing the best of Literature upon all manner of\nYouth educated amongst them.\nWhilst the Men of Quality here very often neglect giving their\nChildren the common and necessary Learning, and too frequently entrust\ntheir Education with lazy, ignorant, and incogitant Tutors, not to\nmention the Supineness of Schoolmasters in general throughout\n_England_; the _North-Britains_ labour in this Particular\nindefatigably, as they are very sensible that Learning is the greatest\nHonour of their Country, and the ancient _Britains_ come so near the\n_Scots_, that amongst the common Persons, in some Parts of _Wales_,\nyou may meet with a Ploughman that speaks tollerable Latin, and a\nMason, like the famous _Ben Johnson_, with his _Horace_ and a Trowel.\nThe want of a generous Education is an irretrieveable Misfortune, and\nthe Negligence of an Inspector of the Literature of Youth ought to be\nunpardonable; how many Persons of Distinction have curs'd their aged\nParents for not bestowing on them a liberal Education? And how many of\nthe Commonalty have regretted the mispending of the precious Time of\nYouth? A Man arriv'd to Maturity has the Mortification of observing an\nInferior in Circumstances superior in Literature, and wants the\nSatisfaction of giving a tollerable Reason for any Thing he says or\ndoes, or in any respect to judge of the Excellency of others; and, in\nmy Opinion, a generous Education, with a bare Subsistence only, is to\nbe preferr'd to the largest Patrimony, and a want of Learning.\nWithout Education it is impossible to Write or Read any Thing\ndistinctly; without a frequent turning of the Dictionary, no Person\ncan be compleat in the _English_ Language, neither can he give Words\ntheir proper Accent and Pronunciation, or be any ways Master of\nElocution; and a Man without Learning, though he appears tollerable in\nConversation, (which I have known some Persons do by a constant\nenjoyment of good Company, and a strength of Memory) is like an\n_Empirick_, that takes Things upon trust: And whenever he comes to\nexercise the Pen, that the Subject is uncommon, and Study is requir'd,\nyou'll find him oftentimes not capable of writing one single Line of\nSenfe, and scarcely one Word of _English_. And, on the other Hand, I\nhave known some Persons who could talk Latin very fluently, who have\nus'd Phrases and Sentences perpetually in that Language, in\nConversation, vulgar and deficient in the Mother-Tongue, and who have\nwritten most egregious Nonsense; from whence it is evident, that\nWriting is the only Test of Literature.\nI have a little deviated from my Subject, in pursuing the Rules and\nAdvantages of Education, which I take to be of that universal good\nTendency, that they are acceptable in any Performance whatsoever: I\nshall offer nothing farther, but conclude this Essay with the\nfollowing Particulars; that besides the Qualifications already\nmention'd, it is as necessary for a fine Writer to be endued with\nModesty as for a beautiful Lady; that good Sense is of equal\nConsequence to an Author, as a good Soil for the Culture of the most\nnoble Plants; that a Person writing a great deal on various Subjects,\nshould be as cautious in owning all his Performances, as in revealing\nthe Secrets of his most intimate Friend; and in respect to those\nGentlemen, who have made no scruple to prostitute their Names, the\nfollowing Similie may be judg'd well adapted:\n  _As Musick soft, by constant use is forc'd\n  Grows harsh, and cloys, becomes at length the worst,\n  The Harmony amidst Confusion lost:\n  So finest Pens, employ'd in Writing still\n  Lose Strength and Beauty as the Folio's fill._\n_FINIS._\nWilliam Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California\nTHE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY\n_General Editors_\n  H. Richard Archer\n    William Andrews Clark Memorial Library\n  R.C. Boys\n    University of Michigan\n  E.N. Hooker\n    University of California, Los Angeles\n  John Loftis\n    University of California, Los Angeles\nThe society exists to make available inexpensive reprints (usually\nfacsimile reproductions) of rare seventeenth and eighteenth century\nworks.\nThe editorial policy of the Society continues unchanged. As in the\npast, the editors welcome suggestions concerning publications.\nAll correspondence concerning subscriptions in the United States and\nCanada should be addressed to the William Andrews Clark Memorial\nLibrary, 2205 West Adams Blvd., Los Angeles 18, California.\nCorrespondence concerning editorial matters may be addressed to any of\nthe general editors. Membership fee continues $2.50 per year. British\nand European subscribers should address B.H. Blackwell, Broad Street,\nOxford, England.\nPublications for the fifth year [1950-1951]\n_(At least six items, most of them from the following list, will be\nreprinted)_\nFRANCES REYNOLDS (?): _An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Taste,\nand of the Origin of Our Ideas of Beauty, &c._ (1785). Introduction by\nJames L. Clifford.\nTHOMAS BAKER: _The Fine Lady's Airs_ (1709). Introduction by John\nHarrington Smith.\nDANIEL DEFOE: _Vindication of the Press_ (1718). Introduction by Otho\nClinton Williams.\nJOHN EVELYN: _An Apologie for the Royal Party_ (1659); _A Panegyric to\nCharles the Second_ (1661). Introduction by Geoffrey Keynes.\nCHARLES MACKLIN: _Man of the World_ (1781). Introduction by Dougald\nMacMillan.\n_Prefaces to Fiction_. Selected and with an Introduction by Benjamin\nBoyce.\nTHOMAS SPRAT: _Poems._\nSIR WILLIAM PETTY: _The Advice of W.P. to Mr. Samuel Hartlib for the\nAdvancement of some particular Parts of Learning_ (1648).\nTHOMAS GRAY: _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Church Yard_ (1751).\n(Facsimile of first edition and of portions of Gray's manuscripts of\nthe poem).\nTo The Augustan Reprint Society\n_William Andrews Clark Memorial Library\n2205 West Adams Boulevard\nLos Angeles 18, California_\n_Subscriber's Name and Address_\n_As_ MEMBERSHIP FEE _I enclose for the years marked:_\nThe current, 1st, 2nd, 3rd & 4th year..... 11.50 [ ]\n_(Publications no. 3 & 4 are out of print)_\nMake check or money order payable to THE REGENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF\nCALIFORNIA.\nNOTE: _All income of the Society is devoted to defraying cost of\nprinting and mailing._\nPUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY\nFirst Year (1946-1947)\n 1. Richard Blackmore's _Essay upon Wit_ (1716), and Addison's\n 2. Samuel Cobb's _Of Poetry_ and _Discourse on Criticism_ (1707).\n 3. _Letter to A.H. Esq.; concerning the Stage_ (1698), and Richard\n    Willis' _Occasional Paper No. IX_ (1698). (OUT OF PRINT)\n 4. _Essay on Wit_ (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and\n    Joseph Warton's _Adventurer_ Nos. 127 and 133. (OUT OF PRINT)\n 5. Samuel Wesley's _Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry_ (1700) and\n    _Essay on Heroic Poetry_ (1693).\n 6. _Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage_ (1704)\n    and _Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage_ (1704).\nSecond Year (1947-1948)\n 7. John Gay's _The Present State of Wit_ (1711); and a section on Wit\n    from _The English Theophrastus_ (1702).\n 8. Rapin's _De Carmine Pastorali_, translated by Creech (1684).\n 9. T. Hanmer's (?) _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_ (1736).\n10. Corbyn Morris' _Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit,\n11. Thomas Purney's _Discourse on the Pastoral_ (1717).\n12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood\n    Krutch.\nThird Year (1948-1949)\n13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), _The Theatre_ (1720).\n14. Edward Moore's _The Gamester_ (1753).\n15. John Oldmixon's _Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Barley_\n    (1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's _The British Academy_ (1712).\n16. Nevil Payne's _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673).\n17. Nicholas Rowe's _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William\n    Shakespear_ (1709).\n18. Aaron Hilt's Preface to _The Creation_; and Thomas Brereton's\n    Preface to _Esther_.\nFourth Year (1949-1950)\n19. Susanna Centlivre's _The Busie Body_ (1709).\n20. Lewis Theobald's _Preface to The Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).\n21. _Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Gradison, Clarissa, and Pamela_\n22. Samuel Johnson's _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749) and Two\n    _Rambler_ papers (1750).\n23. John Dryden's _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).\n24. Pierre Nicole's _An Essay on True and Apparent Beauty in Which\n    from Settled Principles is Rendered the Grounds for Choosing and\nRejecting Epigrams_, translated by J.V. Cunningham.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's A Vindication of the Press, by Daniel Defoe", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  A Vindication of the Press\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Linda Cantoni, and the Online\nmemory of Steven Gibbs (1938-2009).\n[Transcriber's Note: This e-book, a pamphlet by Daniel Defoe, was\noriginally published in 1713, and was prepared from _The Novels and\nMiscellaneous Works of Daniel De Foe_, vol. 6 (London: Henry G. Bohn,\n1855). Archaic spellings have been retained as they appear in the\noriginal, and obvious printer errors have been corrected without note.]\nAND\nWhat if the _Pretender_ should come?\nOR SOME\nCONSIDERATIONS\nOF THE\nADVANTAGES\nAND\nREAL CONSEQUENCES\nOF THE\nPRETENDER'S\nPossessing the\nCROWN OF GREAT BRITAIN.\nLONDON:\nPrinted, and Sold by _J. Baker_, at the _Black Boy_ in\n_Pater-Noster-Row_. 1713. [_Price 6d._]\nAND WHAT IF THE PRETENDER SHOULD COME?\nOR SOME CONSIDERATIONS, &c.\nIf the danger of the pretender is really so great as the noise which\nsome make about it seems to suppose, if the hopes of his coming are so\nwell grounded, as some of his friends seem to boast, it behoves us who\nare to be the subjects of the approaching revolution, which his\nsuccess must necessarily bring with it, to apply ourselves seriously\nto examine what our part will be in the play, that so we may prepare\nourselves to act as becomes us, both with respect to the government we\nare now under, and with respect to the government we may be under,\nwhen the success he promises himself shall (if ever it shall) answer\nhis expectation.\nIn order to this it is necessary to state, with what plainness the\ncircumstances of the case will admit, the several appearances of the\nthing itself. 1. As they are offered to us by the respective parties\nwho are for or against it. 2. As they really appear by an impartial\ndeduction from them both, without the least bias either to one side or\nother; that so the people of Britain may settle and compose their\nthoughts a little in this great, and at present popular, debate; and\nmay neither be terrified nor affrighted with mischiefs, which have no\nreason nor foundation in them, and which give no ground for their\napprehensions; and, on the other hand, may not promise to themselves\ngreater things from the pretender, if he should come hither, than he\nwill be able to perform for them. In order to this we are to consider\nthe pretender in his person and in his circumstances. 1. The person\nwho we call the pretender; it has been so much debated, and such\nstrong parties have been made on both sides to prove or disprove the\nlegitimacy of his birth, that it seems needless here to enter into\nthat dispute; the author of the Review, one of the most furious\nopposers of the name and interest of the pretender, openly grants his\nlegitimacy, and pretends to argue against his admission from\nprinciples and foundations of his own forming; we shall let alone his\nprinciples and foundations here, as we do his arguments, and only take\nhim by the handle which he fairly gives us, viz., that he grants the\nperson of the pretender legitimate; if this be so, if the person we\ncontend about be the lawful true son of King James's queen, the\ndispute whether he be the real son of the king will be quite out of\nthe question; because by the laws of Great Britain, and of the whole\nworld, a child born in wedlock shall inherit, as heir of the mother's\nhusband, whether begotten by him, as his real father, or not. Now to\ncome at the true design of this work, the business is, to hear, as\nabove, what either side have to say to this point. The friends of his\nbirth and succession argue upon it thus, if the person be lawfully\nbegotten, that is, if born really of the body of the queen dowager,\nduring the life of King James, he was without any exception his lawful\nson; if he was his lawful son, he was his lawful heir; if he was his\nlawful heir, why is he not our lawful king? Since hereditary right is\nindefeasible, and is lately acknowledged to be so; and that the\ndoctrine of hereditary right being indefeasible, is a Church of\nEngland doctrine ever received by the church, and inseparable from the\ntrue members of the church, the contrary being the stigmatizing\ncharacter of republicans, king-killers, enemies to monarchy,\npresbyterians, and fanatics. The enemies of the birth and succession\nof the person called the pretender argue upon it thus, that he is the\nlawfully begotten, or son born really of the body of the queen dowager\nof the late King James, they doubt; and they are justified in doubting\nof it, because no sufficient steps were taken in the proper season of\nit, either before his birth, to convince such persons as were more\nimmediately concerned, to know the truth of it, that the queen was\nreally with child, which might have been done past all contradiction\nat that time, more than ever after; or at his birth, to have such\npersons as were more immediately concerned, such as her present\nmajesty, &c., thoroughly convinced of the queen being really delivered\nof a child, by being present at the time of the queen's labour and\ndelivery. This being omitted, which was the affirmative, say they,\nwhich ought to have been proved, we ought not to be concerned in the\nproof of the negative, which by the nature of the thing could not be\nequally certain; and therefore we might be justly permitted to\nconclude that the child was a spurious, unfair production, put upon\nthe nation; for which reason we reject him, and have now, by a legal\nand just authority, deposed his father and him, and settled the\nsuccession upon the house of Hanover, being protestants.\nThe matter of his title standing thus, divides the nation into two\nparties, one side for, and the other against the succession, either of\nthe pretender, or the house of Hanover, and either side calling the\nother the pretender; so that if we were to use the party's language,\nwe must say, one side is for, and the other side against, either of\nthe pretenders; what the visible probabilities of either of these\nclaims succeeding are, is not the present case; the nation appears at\nthis time strangely agitated between the fears of one party, and the\nhopes of the other, each extenuating and aggravating, as their several\nparties and affections guide them, by which the public disorder is\nvery much increased; what either of them have to allege is our present\nwork to inquire; but more particularly what are the real or pretended\nadvantages of the expected reign of him, who we are allowed to\ndistinguish by the name of the pretender; for his friends here would\nhave very little to say to move us to receive him, it they were not\nable to lay before us such prospects of national advantages, and such,\nviews of prosperity, as would be sufficient to prevail with those who\nhave their eyes upon the good of their country, and of their posterity\nafter them.\nThat then a case so popular, and of so much consequence as this is,\nmay not want such due supports as the nature of the thing will allow,\nand especially since the advantages and good consequences of the thing\nitself are so many, and so easy to be seen as his friends allege; why\nshould not the good people of Britain be made easy, and their fears be\nturned into peaceable satisfaction, by seeing that this devil may not\nbe so black as he is painted; and that the noise made of the\npretender, and the frightful things said of his coming, and of his\nbeing received here, may not be made greater scarecrows to us than\nthey really are; and after all that has been said, if it should appear\nthat the advantages of the pretender's succession are really greater\nto us, and the dangers less to us, than those of the succession of\nHanover, then much of their difficulties would be over, who, standing\nneuter as to persons, appear against the pretender, only because they\nare made to believe strange and terrible things of what shall befall\nthe nation in case of his coming in, such as popery, slavery, French\npower, destroying of our credit, and devouring our funds (as that\nscandalous scribbler, the Review, has been labouring to suggest), with\nmany other things which we shall endeavour to expose to you, as they\ndeserve. If, we say, it should appear then that the dangers and\ndisadvantages of the pretender's succession are less than those of the\nhouse of Hanover, who, because of an act of Parliament, you know must\nnot be called pretenders, then there will remain nothing more to be\nsaid on that score, but the debate must be of the reasonableness and\njustice on either side, for their admittance; and there we question\nnot but the side we are really pleading for will have the advantage.\nTo begin, then, with that most popular and affrighting argument now\nmade use of, as the bugbear of the people, against several other\nthings besides jacobitism, we mean French greatness. It is most\nevident that the fear of this must, by the nature of the thing, be\neffectually removed upon our receiving the pretender; the grounds and\nreasons why French greatness is rendered formidable to us, and so much\nweight supposed to be in it, that like the name of Scanderberg, we\nfright our very children with it, lie only in this, that we suggest\nthe king of France being a professed enemy to the peace and the\nliberty of Great Britain, will most certainly, as soon as he can a\nlittle recover himself, exercise all that formidable power to put the\npretender upon us, and not only to place him upon the throne of Great\nBritain, but to maintain and hold him up in it, against all the\nopposition, either of the people of Britain or the confederate princes\nleagued with the elector of Hanover, who are in the interest of his\nclaim, or of his party. Now, it is evident, that upon a peaceable\nadmitting this person, whom they call the pretender, to receive and\nenjoy the crown here, all that formidable power becomes your friend,\nand the being so must necessarily take off from it everything that is\ncalled terrible; forasmuch as the greater terror and amusement the\npower we apprehend really carries with it, the greater is the\ntranquillity and satisfaction which accrues to us, when we have the\nfriendship of that power which was so formidable to us before: the\npower of France is represented at this time very terrible, and the\nwriters who speak of it apply it warm to our imaginations, as that\nfrom whence we ought justly to apprehend the impossibility of keeping\nout the pretender, and this, notwithstanding they allow themselves at\nthe same time to suppose all the confederate powers of Europe to be\nengaged, as well by their own interest, as by the new treaties of\nbarrier and guarantee, to support and to assist the claim of the\nelector of Hanover, and his party. Now, if this power be so great and\nso formidable, as they allege, will it not, on the other side, add a\nproportion of increase to our satisfaction, that this power will be\nwholly in friendship and league with us; and engaged to concern itself\nfor the quieting our fears of other foreign invaders; forasmuch as\nhaving once concerned itself to set the person of the pretender upon\nthe throne, it cannot be supposed but it shall be equally concerned to\nsupport and maintain him in that possession, as what will mightily\nconduce to the carrying on the other projects of his greatness and\nglory with the rest of Europe; in which it will be very much his\ninterest to secure himself from any opposition he might meet with from\nthis nation, or from such as might be rendered powerful by our\nassistance. An eminent instance we have of this in the mighty efforts\nthe French nation have made for planting, and preserving when planted,\na grandson of France upon the throne of Spain; and how eminent are the\nadvantages to France from the success of that undertaking; of what\nless consequence then would it be to the august monarchy of France, to\nsecure and engage to himself the constant friendship and assistance of\nthe power of Great Britain, which he would necessarily do, by the\nplacing this person upon the throne, who would thereby in gratitude be\nengaged to contribute his utmost in return to the king of France, for\nthe carrying on his glorious designs in the rest of Europe. While,\nthen, we become thus necessary to the king of France, reason dictates\nthat he would be our fast friend, our constant confederate, our ally,\nfirmly engaged to secure our sovereign, and protect our people from\nthe insults and attempts of all the world; being thus engaged\nreciprocally with the king of France, there must necessarily be an end\nof all the fears and jealousies, of all the apprehensions and doubts,\nwhich now so amuse us, and appear so formidable to us from the\nprospect of the power and greatness of France; then we shall on the\ncontrary say to the world, the stronger the king of France is, the\nbetter for the king of England; and what is best for the king, must be\nso for his people; for it is a most unnatural way of arguing, to\nsuppose the interest of a king, and of his people, to be different\nfrom one another.\nAnd is not this then an advantage incomparably greater to Britain,\nwhen the pretender shall be upon the throne, than any we can propose\nto ourselves in the present uneasy posture of affairs, which it must\nbe acknowledged we are in now, when we cannot sleep in quiet, for the\nterrible apprehensions of being overrun by the formidable power of\nFrance.\nLet us also consider the many other advantages which may accrue to\nthis nation, by a nearer conjunction, and closer union with France,\nsuch as increase of commerce, encouragement of manufactures, balance\nof trade; every one knows how vast an advantage we reaped by the\nFrench trade in former times, and how many hundred thousand pounds a\nyear we gained by it, when the balance of trade between us and France\nran so many millions of livres annually _against_ the French by the\nvast exportation of our goods to them, and the small import which we\nreceived from them again, and by the constant flux of money in specie,\nwhich we drew from them every year, upon court occasions, to the\ninexpressible benefit of the nation, and enriching of the subject, of\nwhich we shall have occasion to speak hereafter more fully.\nIn the meantime it were to be wished that our people who are so\nbugbeared with words, and terrified with the name of French, French\npower, French greatness, and the like, as if England could not\nsubsist, and the queen of England was not able to keep upon her throne\nany longer than the king of France pleased, and that her majesty was\ngoing to be a mere servant to the French king, would consider that\nthis is an unanswerable argument for the coming of the pretender, that\nwe may make this so formidable prince our friend, have all his power\nengaged in our interest, and see him going on hand in hand with us, in\nthe securing us against all sorts of encroachments whatsoever; for if\nthe king of France be such an invincible mighty monarch, that we are\nnothing in his eyes or in his hands; and that neither Britain, or all\nthe friends Britain can make, are able to deliver us from him; then it\nmust be our great advantage to have the pretender be our king, that\nwe may be out of the danger of this formidable French power being our\nenemy; and that, on the other hand, we may have so potent, so\npowerful, so invincible a prince be our friend. The case is evidently\nlaid down to every common understanding, in the example of Spain; till\nnow, the Spaniards for many ages have been overrun and impoverished by\ntheir continued wars with the French, and it was not doubted but one\ntime or other they would have been entirely conquered by the king of\nFrance, and have become a mere province of France; whereas now, having\nbut consented to receive a king from the hands of the invincible\nmonarch, they are made easy as to the former danger they were always\nin, axe now most safe under the protection of France; and he who\nbefore was their terror, is now their safety, and being safe from him\nit appears they are so from all the world.\nWould it not then be the manifest advantage of this nation to be\nlikewise secured from the dangerous power of France, and make that\npotentate our fast friend, who it is so apparent we are not able to\nresist as an enemy? This is reducing the French power the softest way,\nif not the best and shortest way; for if it does not reduce the power\nitself, it brings it into such a circumstance, as that all the terror\nof it is removed, and we embrace that as our safety and satisfaction,\nwhich really is, and ought to be, our terror and aversion; this must\nof necessity be our great advantage.\nHow strange is it that none of our people have yet thought of this way\nof securing their native country from the insults of France? Were but\nthe pretender once received as our king, we have no more disputes with\nthe king of France, he has no pretence to invade or disturb us; what a\nquiet world would it be with us in such a case, when the greatest\nmonarch in the universe should be our fast friend, and be in our\ninterest to prevent any of the inconveniences which might happen to us\nfrom the disgust of other neighbours, who may be dissatisfied with us\nupon other accounts. As to the terrible things which some people\nfright us, and themselves with, from the influence which French\ncouncils may have upon us, and of French methods of government being\nintroduced among us; these we ought to esteem only clamours and noise,\nraised by a party to amuse and affright us; for pray let us inquire a\nlittle into them, and see if there be any reason for us to be so\nterrified at them; suppose they were really what is alleged, which we\nhope they are not; for example, the absolute dominion of the king of\nFrance over his subjects, is such, say our people, as makes them\nmiserable; well, but let us examine then, are we not already miserable\nfor want of this absolute dominion? Are we not miserably divided? Is\nnot our government miserably weak? Are we not miserably subjected to\nthe rabbles and mob? Nay, is not the very crown mobbed here every now\nand then, into whatever our sovereign lord the people demand? Whereas,\non the contrary, we see France entirely united as one man; no virulent\nscribblers there dare affront the government; no impertinent\np----ments there disturb the monarch with their addresses and\nrepresentations; no superiority of laws restrain the administration;\nno insolent lawyers talk of the sacred constitution, in opposition to\nthe more sacred prerogative; but all with harmony and general consent\nagree to support the majesty of their prince, and with their lives and\nfortunes; not in complimenting sham addresses only, but in reality,\nand effectually, support the glory of their great monarch. In doing\nthis they are all united together so firmly, as if they had but one\nheart and one mind, and that the king was the soul of the nation: what\nif they are what we foolishly call slaves to the absolute will of\ntheir prince? That slavery to them is mere liberty? They entertain no\nnotion of that foolish thing liberty, which we make so much noise\nabout; nor have they any occasion of it, or any use for it if they had\nit; they are as industrious in trade, as vigorous in pursuit of their\naffairs, go on with as much courage, and are as well satisfied when\nthey have wrought hard twenty or thirty years to get a little money\nfor the king to take away, as we are to get it for our wives and\nchildren; and as they plant vines, and plough lands, that the king and\nhis great men may eat the fruit thereof, they think it as great a\nfelicity as if they eat it themselves. The badge of their poverty,\nwhich we make such a noise of, and insult them about so much, viz.,\ntheir wooden shoes, their peasants make nothing of it; they say they\nare as happy in their wooden shoes, as our people are with their\nluxury and drunkenness; besides, do not our poor people wear iron\nshoes, and leather doublets, and where is the odds between them? All\nthe business, forsooth, is this trifle we call liberty, which rather\nthan be plagued with so much strife and dissension about it as we are,\nwho would be troubled with; now, it is evident _the peace_ and union\nwhich we should enjoy under the like methods of government here, which\nwe hope for under the happy government of the pretender, must needs be\na full equivalent for all the pretended rights and privileges which we\nsay we shall lose; and how will our rights and privileges be lost?\nWill they not rather be centred in our common receptacle, viz., the\nsovereign, who is, according to the king of France's happy government,\nthe common magazine of universal privilege, communicating it to, and\npreserving it for, the general use of his subjects, as their safety\nand happiness requires. Thus he protects their commerce, encourages\ntheir foreign settlements, enlarges their possessions abroad,\nincreases their manufactures, gives them room for spreading their\nnumerous race over the world; at home he rewards arts and sciences,\ncultivates learning, employs innumerable hands in the labours of the\nstate, and the like; what if it be true that all they gain is at his\nmercy? Does he take it away, except when needful, for the support of\nhis glory and grandeur, which is their protection? Is it not apparent,\nthat under all the oppressions they talk so much of, the French are\nthe nation the most improved and increased in manufactures, in\nnavigation, in commerce, within these fifty years, of any nation in\nthe world? And here we pretend liberty, property, constitutions,\nrights of subjects, and such stuff as that, and with all these fine\ngewgaws, which we pretend propagate trade, and increase the wealth of\nthe nation, we are every day declining, and become poor; how long will\nthis nation be blinded by their own foolish customs? And when will\nthey learn to know, that the absolute government of a virtuous prince,\nwho makes the good of his people his ultimate end, and esteems their\nprosperity his glory, is the best, and most godlike, government in the\nworld.\nLet us then be no more rendered uneasy with the notions, that with the\npretender we must entertain French methods of government, such as\ntyranny and arbitrary power; tyranny is no more tyranny, when improved\nfor the subjects' advantage: perhaps when we have tried it we may find\nit as much for our good many ways, nay, and more too, than our present\nexorbitant liberties, especially unless we can make a better use of\nthem, and enjoy them, without being always going by the ears about\nthem, as we see daily, not only with our governors, but even with one\nanother; a little French slavery, though it be a frightful word among\nus, that is, being made so by custom, yet may do us a great deal of\ngood in the main, as it may teach us not to over (under) value our\nliberties when we have them, so much as sometimes we have done; and\nthis is not one of the least advantages which we shall gain by the\ncoming of the pretender, and consequently one of the good reasons why\nwe should be very willing to receive him.\nThe next thing which they fill us with apprehensions of in the coming\nof the pretender, is the influence of French councils, which they\nconstrue thus, viz., That the pretender being restored here by the\nassistance of France, will not only rule us by French methods, viz.,\nby French tyranny, but in gratitude to his restorer he will cause us\nto be always ready with English blood and treasure to assist and\nsupport the French ambition in the invasions he will ever be making\nupon Europe, and in the oppressions of other nations; till at last he\nobtain the superiority over them all, and turn upon us too, devouring\nthe liberties of Europe in his so long purposed and resolved universal\nmonarchy. As to the gratitude of the pretender to the king of France,\nwhy should you make that a crime? Are not all people bound in honour\nto retaliate kindness? And would you have your prince be ungrateful to\nhim that brought him hither? By the same rule, you would expect he\ncould be ungrateful to us that receive him; besides, if it be so great\nan advantage to us to have him brought in, we shall be all concerned\nalso in gratitude to the king of France for helping us to him; and\nsure we shall not decline making a suitable return to him for the\nkindness; and is this anything more than common? Did we not pay the\nDutch six hundred thousand pounds sterling for assisting the late King\nWilliam? And did we not immediately embark with them in the war\nagainst the king of France? And has not that revolution cost the\nnation one hundred millions of British money to support it? And shall\nwe grudge to support the pretender and his benefactor, at the same\nexpense, if it should be needful, for carrying on the new scheme of\nFrench liberty, which when that time comes may be in a likely and\nforward way to prevail over the whole world, to the general happiness\nof Europe.\nThere seems to be but one thing more which those people, who make such\na clamour at the fears of the pretender, take hold of, and this is\nreligion; and they tell us that not only French government, and\nFrench influence, but French religion, that is to say, popery, will\ncome upon us; but these people know not what they talk of, for it is\nevident that they shall be so far from being loaded with religion,\nthat they will rather obtain that so long desired happiness, of having\nno religion at all. This we may easily make appear has been the\nadvantage which has been long laboured for in this nation; and as the\nattainments we are arrived to of that kind are very considerable\nalready, so we cannot doubt but that if once the pretender were\nsettled quietly among us, an absolute subjection, as well of religious\nprinciples, as civil liberties, to the disposal of the sovereign,\nwould take place. This is an advantage so fruitful of several other\nmanifest improvements, that though we have not room in this place to\nenlarge upon the particulars, we cannot doubt but it must be a most\ngrateful piece of news to a great part of the nation, who have long\ngroaned under the oppressions and cruel severities of the clergy,\noccasioned by their own strict lives, and rigorous virtue, and their\nimposing such austerities and restraints upon the people; and in this\nparticular the clamour of slavery will appear very scandalous in the\nnation, for the slavery of religion being taken off, and an universal\nfreedom of vice being introduced, what greater liberty can we enjoy.\nBut we have yet greater advantages attending this nation by the coming\nof the pretender than any we have yet taken notice of; and though we\nhave not room in this short tract to name them all, and enlarge upon\nthem as the case may require, yet we cannot omit such due notice of\nthem, as may serve to satisfy our readers, and convince them how much\nthey ought to favour the coming of the pretender, as the great benefit\nto the whole nation; and therefore we shall begin with our brethren of\nScotland; and here we may tell them, that they, of all the parts of\nthis island, shall receive the most evident advantages, in that the\nsetting the pretender upon the throne shall effectually set them free\nfrom the bondage they now groan under, in their abhorred subjection to\nEngland by the union, which may, no question, be declared void, and\ndissolved, as a violence upon the Scottish nation, as soon as ever the\npretender shall be established upon the throne; a few words may serve\nto recommend this to the Scots, since we are very well satisfied we\nshall be sure to oblige every side there by it: the opposition all\nsides made to the union at the time of the transaction of the union\nin the parliament there, cannot but give us reason to think thus; and\nthe present scruple, even the presbyterians themselves make, of taking\nthe abjuration, if they do not, as some pretend, assure us that the\nsaid presbyterian nonjurors are in the interest of the pretender, yet\nthey undeniably prove, and put it out of all question, that they are\nill-pleased with the yoke of the union, and would embrace every just\noccasion of being quietly and freely discharged from the fetters which\nthey believe they bear by the said union; now there is no doubt to be\nmade, but that upon the very first appearance of the pretender, the\nancient kingdom of Scotland should recover her former well-known\ncondition, we mean, of being perfectly free, and depending upon none\nbut the king of France. How inestimable an advantage this will be to\nScotland, and how effectually he will support and defend the Scots\nagainst their ancient enemies, the English, forasmuch as we have not\nroom to enlarge upon here, we may take occasion to make out more\nparticularly on another occasion. But it may not be forgotten here,\nthat the union was not only justly distasteful to the Scots\nthemselves, but also to many good men, and noble patriots of the\nchurch, some of whom entered their protests against passing and\nconfirming, or ratifying the same, such as the late Lord Hav----sham,\nand the right wise and right noble E---- of Nott----, whose reasons\nfor being against the said union, besides those they gave in the house\nof p----s, which we do by no means mean to reflect upon in the least\nin this place; we say, whose other reasons for opposing the said union\nwere founded upon an implacable hatred to the Scots kirk, which has\nbeen established thereby: it may then not admit of any question, but\nthat they would think it a very great advantage to be delivered from\nthe same, as they would effectually be by the coming of the pretender;\nwherefore by the concurring judgment of these noble and wise persons,\nwho on that account opposed the union, the coming of the pretender\nmust be an inexpressible advantage to this nation; nor is the\ndissolving the union so desirable a thing, merely as that union was an\nestablishing among us a wicked schismatical presbyterian generation,\nand giving the sanction of the laws to their odious constitution,\nwhich we esteem (you know) worse than popery; but even on civil\naccounts, as particularly on account of the p----s of Scotland, who\nmany of them think themselves egregiously maltreated, and robbed of\ntheir birthright, as p----s, and have expressed themselves so in a\nsomething public manner. Now we cannot think that any of these will be\nat all offended that all this new establishment should be revoked;\nnay, we have heard it openly said, that the Scots are so little\nsatisfied with the union at this time, that if it were now to be put\nto the vote, as it was before, whether they should unite with England,\nor no, there would not be one man in fifteen, throughout Scotland,\nthat would vote for it. If then it appears that the whole nation thus\nseems to be averse to the union, and by the coming in of this most\nglorious pretender that union will be in all appearance dissolved, and\nthe nation freed from the incumbrance of it, will any Scots man, who\nis against the union, refuse to be for the pretender? Sure it cannot\nbe; I know it is alleged, that they will lay aside their discontent at\nthe union, and unite together against the pretender, because that is\nto unite against popery; we will not say what a few, who have their\neyes in their heads, may do; but as the generality of the people there\nare not so well reconciled together, as such a thing requires, it is\nnot unlikely that such a uniting may be prevented, if the pretender's\nfriends there can but play the game of dividing them farther, as they\nshould do; to which end it cannot but be very serviceable to them to\nhave the real advantages of receiving the pretender laid before them,\nwhich is the true intent and meaning of the present undertaking.\nBut we have more and greater advantages of the coming of the\npretender, and such as no question will invite you to receive him with\ngreat satisfaction and applause; and it cannot be unnecessary to\ninform you, for your direction in other cases, how the matter, as to\nreal and imaginary advantage, stands with the nation in this affair;\nand First, the coming of the pretender will at once put us all out of\ndebt. These abomination whigs, and these bloody wars, carried on so\nlong for little or nothing, have, as is evident to our senses now,\n(whatever it was all along), brought a heavy debt upon the nation; so\nthat if what a known author lately published is true, the government\npays now almost six millions a year to the common people for interest\nof money; that is to say, the usurers eat up the nation, and devour\nsix millions yearly; which is paid, and must be paid now for a long\ntime, if some kind turn, such as this of the coming of the pretender,\nor such like, does not help us out of it; the weight of this is not\nonly great, insuperably great, but most of it is entailed for a\nterrible time, not only for our age, but beyond the age of our\ngrandchildren, even for ninety-nine years; by how much the\nconsideration of this debt is intolerable and afflicting to the last\ndegree, by so much the greater must the obligation be to the person\nwho will ease the nation of such a burden, and therefore we place it\namong the principal advantages which we are to receive from the\nadmission of the pretender, that he will not fail to rid us of this\ngrievance, and by methods peculiar to himself deliver us from so great\na burden as these debts are now, and, unless he deliver us, are like\nto be to the ages to come; whether he will do this at once, by\nremitting most graciously to the nation the whole payment, and\nconsequently take off the burden _brevi manu_, as with a sponge wiping\nout the infamous score, leaving it to fall as fate directs, or by\nprudent degrees, we know not, nor is it our business to determine it\nhere; no doubt the doing it with a jerk, as we call it, _comme une\ncoup de grace_, must be the most expeditious way; nay, and the kindest\nway of putting the nation out of its pain; for lingering deaths are\ncounted cruel; and though _une coup d'eclat_ may make an impression\nfor the present, yet the astonishment is soonest over; besides, where\nis the loss to the nation in this sense? though the money be stopped\nfrom the subject on one hand, if it be stopped to the subjects on the\nother, the nation loses or gains nothing: we know it will be answered,\nthat it is unjust, and that thousands of families will be ruined,\nbecause they who lose, will not be those who gain. But what is this to\nthe purpose in a national revolution; unjust! alas! is that an\nargument? Go and ask the pretender! Does not he say you have all done\nunjustly by him? and since the nation in general loses nothing, what\nobligation has he to regard the particular injury that some families\nmay sustain? And yet farther, is it not remarkable, that most part of\nthe money is paid by the cursed party of whigs, who from the beginning\nofficiously appeared to keep him from his right? And what obligation\nhas he upon him to concern himself for doing them right in particular,\nmore than other people? But to avoid the scandal of partiality, there\nis another thought offers to our view, which the nation is beholding\nto a particular author for putting us in mind of; if it be unjust\nthat we should suppose the pretender shall stop the payment on both\nsides, because it is doing the whigs wrong, since the tories, who\nperhaps being chiefly landed men, pay the most taxes; then, to keep up\na just balance, he need only continue the taxes to be paid in, and\nonly stop the annuities and interest which are to be paid out. Thus\nboth sides having no reason to envy or reproach one another with\nhardships, or with suffering unequally; they may every one lose their\nproportion, and the money may be laid up in the hands of the new\nsovereign, for the good of the nation.\nThis being thus happily proposed, we cannot pass over the great\nadvantages which would accrue to this nation in such a case, by having\nsuch a mass of money laid up in the exchequer at the absolute command\nof a most gracious French sovereign. But as these things are so\nglorious, and so great, as to admit of no complete explication in this\nshort tract, give us leave, O people of Great Britain, to lay before\nyou a little sketch of your future felicity, under the auspicious\nreign of such a glorious prince, as we all hope, and believe the\npretender to be. 1. You are to allow, that by such a just and\nrighteous shutting up of the exchequer in about seven years' time, he\nmay be supposed to have received about forty millions sterling from\nhis people, which not being to be found in specie in the kingdom,\nwill, for the benefit of circulation, enable him to treasure up\ninfinite funds of wealth in foreign banks, a prodigious mass of\nforeign bullion, gold, jewels, and plate, to be ready in the tower, or\nelsewhere, to be issued upon future emergency, as occasion may allow.\nThis prodigious wealth will necessarily have these happy events, to\nthe infinite satisfaction and advantage of the whole nation, and the\nbenefit of which I hope none will be so unjust, or ungrateful, to\ndeny. 1. It will for ever after deliver this nation from the burden,\nthe expense, the formality, and the tyranny, of parliaments. No one\ncan perhaps at the first view be rightly sensible of the many\nadvantages of this article, and from how many mischiefs it will\ndeliver this nation. 1. How the country gentlemen will be no longer\nharassed to come, at the command of every court occasion, and upon\nevery summons by the prince's proclamation, from their families and\nother occasions, whether they can be spared from their wives, &c., or\nno, or whether they can trust their wives behind them, or no; nay,\nwhether they can spare money or no for the journey, or whether they\nmust come carriage paid or no; then they will no more be unnecessarily\nexposed to long and hazardous journeys, in the depth of winter, from\nthe remotest corners of the island, to come to London, just to give\naway the country's money, and go home again; all this will be\ndispensed with by the kind and gracious management of the pretender,\nwhen he, God bless us, shall be our more gracious sovereign. 2. In the\nhappy consequence of the demise of parliaments, the country will be\neased of that intolerable burden of travelling to elections, sometimes\nin the depth of winter, sometimes in the middle of their harvest,\nwhenever the writs of elections arbitrarily summons them. 3. And with\nthem the poor gentlemen will be eased of that abominable grievance of\nthe nation, viz., the expense of elections, by which so many gentlemen\nof estates have been ruined, so many innocent people, of honest\nprinciples before, have been debauched, and made mercenary, partial,\nperjured, and been blinded with bribes to sell their country and\nliberties to who bids most. It is well known how often, and yet how in\nvain, this distemper has been the constant concern of parliaments for\nmany ages, to cure, and to provide sufficient remedies for. Now if\never the effectual remedy for this is found out, to the inexpressible\nadvantage of the whole nation; and this perhaps is the only cure for\nit that the nature of the disease will admit of; what terrible havock\nhas this kind of trade made among the estates of the gentry, and the\nmorals of the common people? 4. How also has it kept alive the\nfactions and divisions of the country people, keeping them in a\nconstant agitation, and in triennial commotions? So that what with\nforming new interests, and cultivating old, the heats and animosities\nnever cease among the people. But once set the pretender upon the\nthrone, and let the funds be but happily stopped, and paid into his\nhands, that he may be in no more need of a parliament, and all these\ndistempers will be cured as effectually as a fever is cured by cutting\noff the head, or as a halter cures the bleeding at the nose. How\ninfatuated then is this nation, that they should so obstinately refuse\na prince, by the nature of whose circumstances, and the avowed\nprinciples of whose party, we are sure to obtain such glorious things,\nsuch inestimable advantages, things which no age, no prince, no\nattempt of parties, or endeavour, though often aimed at of ministers\nof state, have ever been able to procure for us. 2. This amassing of\ntreasure, by the stopping the funds on one hand, and the receiving the\ntaxes on the other, will effectually enable the pretender to set up,\nand effectually maintain, that glorious, and so often-desired method\nof government, _au coup de canon, Anglice_, a standing army. This we\nhave the authority of the ancient borough of Carlisle, that it is the\nsafety of the prince, and the glory of the nation, as appears by their\nrenowned address to King James II. Then we should see a new face of\nour nation, and Britain would no more be a naked nation, as it has\nformerly been; then we should have numerous and gallant armies\nsurrounding a martial prince; ready to make the world, as well as his\nown subjects, tremble; then our inland counties would appear full of\nroyal fortifications, citadels, forts, and strong towns; the beauty of\nthe kingdom, and awe of factious rebels: it is a strange thing that\nthis refractory people of ours could never be made sensible how much\nit is for the glory and safety of this nation that we should be put\ninto a posture of defence against ourselves: it has been often\nalleged, that this nation can never be ruined but with their own\nconsent: if then we are our own enemies, is it not highly requisite\nthat we should be put in a position to have our own ruin prevented?\nAnd that since it is apparent we are no more fit to be trusted with\nour own liberties, having a natural and a national propensity to\ndestroy and undo ourselves, and may be brought to consent to our own\nruin, we should have such princes, as for the future know how to\nrestrain us, and how reasonable is it to allow them forces to do so?\nWe might enlarge here upon the great and certain advantages of this\nbest of governments, a standing army; we might go back to the Persian,\nGrecian, and Roman empires, which had never arrived to such a pitch of\nglory if the people and nations whom they subdued had been able to\nnose them with such trifles as what we call constitution, national\nright, ancient privileges, and the like; we might descend also to\nparticular advantages of government, which it is hoped we may attain\nto in Britain when the pretender arrives, some of which are grown\nobsolete, and out of use, by custom, and long possession of those\ntroublesome things called liberties; among these may be reckoned,\n1. The whole kingdom will be at once eased of that ridiculous\nfeather-cap's expense of militia and trained-bands, which serve for\nlittle else but to justify the picking the peoples' pockets, with an\nannual tax of trophy-money, and every now and then putting the city of\nLondon and parts adjacent, to ten thousand pound charge, to beat\ndrums, and shoot muskets, for nothing; when, on the contrary, you\nshall in the blessed revolution we now invite you to, have all this\ndone gratis, by the standing troops kept constantly in pay; and your\nlieutenancy may lay down their commissions among the rest of\nnon-significants of the nation.\n2. You shall be for ever out of danger of being ridden again by the\nmob, your meeting-houses shall no more be the subject of the enraged\nrabbles; nor shall the bank of England desire the drums to beat at\nmidnight to raise a guard for Grocers' hall; your new monarch will\nsuffer none to insult or plunder the city but himself; and as the city\nitself shall never want soldiers, (how should it, when the whole\nkingdom shall become a garrison?) the money in the bank shall always\nbe defended by a strong guard, who shall, whenever there is any danger\nof its being too safe, convey it, for its eminent security, from\nGrocers'-alley to the Tower, or to the exchequer, where it shall not\nfail to be kept for the advantage of the public.\n3. Again; upon this happy change we shall immediately be delivered\nfrom that most infamous practice of stock-jobbing, of which so much\nhas been said to so little purpose; for the funds being turned all\ninto one general stock, and the prince being himself your security,\nyou may even write upon all your companies this general phrase, viz.,\nNo transfer, as they do when the books are shut up at the bank, or\nEast-India house; so as all the rivers of water are swallowed up in\nthe sea, as one ocean, to which they are all tending, so all these\npetty cheats will be engulfed at once in the general ocean of state\ntrick, and the Exchange-alley men may justly be said to buy the\nbear-skin ever after.\n4. When (which is a blessing we fear we cannot hope for before) we may\nexpect to be delivered from the throng of virulent and contumacious\nlibels which now infest our streets; and the libellers themselves\nbeing most exemplarily punished, for a terror to the rest, will not\ndare to affront the government with ballads and balderdash; if an\nimpudent fellow dares lift up his pen against the authority and power\nof his prince, he shall instantly feel the weight of that power to\ncrush him, which he ought before to have feared; and pamphleteers\nshall then not be whipped and pilloried, but hanged; and when two or\nthree of them have suffered that way, it is hoped those wholesome\nseverities may put an effectual stop to the noise and clamour they now\nmake in the nation; above all, the hands of the government will then\nbe set free from the fetters of law; and it shall not be always\nnecessary for the ministers of state to proceed by all the forms of\nthe courts of justice, in such cases, by which the scribblers of the\nage pretend to stand it out against the government, and put their own\nconstruction upon their libels. But when these happy days arrive,\njuries and judges shall find and determine in these and all other\ncases, bring verdicts, and give sentence, as the prince in his royal\njustice shall direct.\nWe might enter here upon a long list of other happy circumstances we\nshall all arrive to, and of great advantages not here named, which the\ncoming in of the pretender shall infallibly bring us to the enjoyment\nof, particularly in matters of religion, civil right, property, and\ncommerce; but the needful brevity of this tract will not admit of it,\nwe shall only add one thing more, which gives weight to all the rest,\nviz., that the certainty of these things, and of their being the\nnatural consequences of the bringing in the pretender, adds to the\ncertain felicity of that reign. This sums up the happiness of the\npretender's reign; we need not talk of security, as the Review has\ndone, and pretend he is not able to give us security for the\nperformance of anything he promises; every man that has any sense of\nthe principles, honour, and justice of the pretender, his zeal for the\nRoman catholic cause, his gratitude to his benefactor, the French\nking, and his love to the glory and happiness of his native country,\nmust rest satisfied of his punctually performing all these great\nthings for us; to ask him security, would be not to affront him only,\nbut to affront the whole nation; no man can doubt him; the nature of\nthe thing allows that he must do us all that kindness; he cannot be\ntrue to his own reason without it; wherefore this treaty executes\nitself, and appears so rational to believe, that whoever doubts it may\nbe supposed to doubt even the veracity of James the Just.\nWhat unaccountable folly then must those people be guilty of, who\nstand so much in the way of their own and their country's happiness,\nas to oppose, or pretend to argue against, the receiving this glorious\nprince, and would be for having Dutch men and foreigners forsooth to\ncome, and all under the notion of their being protestants? To avoid\nand detect which fallacy, we shall in our next essay enter into the\nexamination of the religion and orthodox principles of the person of\nthe pretender, and doubt not to make it out, for the satisfaction of\nall tender consciences, that he is a true protestant of the church of\nEngland, established by law, and that in the very natural primitive\nsense of that phrase as it was used by his royal predecessor, of\nfamous and pious memory, Charles II.----and as such, no doubt, he will\nendeavour for the recovery of the crown, which crown, if he obtains\nit, you see what glorious things he may do for himself, and us.\n_Quam si non tenuit magnis tamen excidit ausis._", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  And What if the Pretender should Come?\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Jens Sadowski (This file was produced from\nimages generously made available by The Internet Archive)\nTHE King of PIRATES:\nBEING AN ACCOUNT OF THE Famous ENTERPRISES OF\nCaptain _AVERY_,\nThe Mock KING of _Madagascar_.\nWITH\nHis RAMBLES and PIRACIES; wherein\nall the Sham ACCOUNTS formerly\npublish'd of him, are detected.\n_In Two LETTERS from himself;\none during his Stay at_ Madagascar, _and\none since his Escape from thence._\n_LONDON_,\nPrinted for _A. Bettesworth_ in _Pater-noster Row_, _C. King_\nin _Westminster-Hall_, _J. Brotherton_ and _W. Meadows_ in _Cornhill_,\n_W. Chetwood_ in _Covent-Garden_, and sold by _W. Boreham_ in\n_Pater-noster Row_, 1720.\nTHE PREFACE\nONE of the particular Advantages of the following Letters from\nCaptain _Avery_, is, the Satisfaction they will give the Readers how much\nthey have been impos'd upon in the former ridiculous and extravagant\nAccounts which have been put upon the World in what has been publish'd\nalready._\n_It has been enough to the Writers of this Man's Life, as they call it,\nthat they could put any Thing together, to make a kind of monstrous unheard\nof Story, as romantick as the Reports that have been spread about of him;\nand the more those Stories appear'd monstrous and incredible, the more\nsuitable they seem'd to be to what the World would have been made to expect\nof Captain _Avery_._\n_There is always a great Deference between what Men say of themselves, and\nwhat others say for them, when they come to write Historically of the\nTransactions of their Lives._\n_The Publisher of these Letters recommends this Performance to the Readers,\nto make their Judgment of the Difference between them and the extravagant\nStories already told, and which is most likely to be genuine; and, as they\nverily believe these Letters to be the best and truest Account of Captain\n_Avery_'s Piracies, that ever has or ever will come to the Knowledge of the\nWorld, they recommend them as such, and doubt not but they will answer for\nthemselves in the Reading._\n_The Account given of Captain _Avery_'s taking the Great Mogul's Daughter,\nravishing and murdering her, and all the Ladies of her Retinue, is so\ndifferently related here, and so extravagantly related before, that it\ncannot but be a Satisfaction to the most unconcern'd Reader, to find such a\nhorrible Piece of Villainy as the other was suppos'd to be, not to have\nbeen committed in the World._\n_On the contrary, we find here, that except plundering that Princess of her\nJewels and Money to a prodigious Value, a Thing which, falling into the\nHands of Freebooters, every one that had the Misfortune to fall into such\nHands would expect: But, that excepting this, the Lady was used with all\nthe Decency and Humanity, and, perhaps, with more than ever Women, falling\namong Pirates, had found before; especially considering that, by Report,\nshe was a most beautiful and agreeable Person herself, as were also several\nof those about her._\n_The Booty taken with her, tho' infinitely great in itself, yet has been so\nmagnify'd beyond common Sense, that it makes all the rest that has been\nsaid of those Things ridiculous and absurd._\n_The like Absurdity in the former Relations of this Matter, is that of the\nmaking an Offer of I know not how many Millions to the late Queen, for\nCaptain _Avery_'s Pardon, with a Petition to the Queen, and her Majesty's\nnegative Answer; all which are as much true as his being Master of so many\nMillions if Money, which he nor his Gang never had; and of his being\nproclaim'd King of _Madagascar_; marrying the Mogul's Daughter, and the\nlike: And, by the Bye, it was but ill laid together of those who publish'd,\nthat he first ravish'd her, then murder'd her, and then marry'd her; all\nwhich are very remarkable for the recommending the Thing to those that read\nit._\n_If these Stories are explain'd here, and duly expos'd, and the History of\nCaptain _Avery_ set in a fairer Light, the End is answer'd; and of this the\nReaders are to be the only Judges: But this may be said, without any\nArrogance, that this Story, stripp'd of all the romantick, improbable, and\nimpossible Parts of it, looks more like the History of Captain _Avery_,\nthan any Thing yet publish'd ever has done; and, if it is not prov'd that\nthe Captain wrote these Letters himself, the Publisher says, None but the\nCaptain himself will ever be able to mend them._\nTHE King of PIRATES.\nYOU may be sure I receiv'd with Resentment enough the Account,\nthat a most ridiculous Book, entitled, _My Life and Adventures_, had been\npublish'd in _England_, being fully assur'd nothing of Truth could be\ncontain'd in such a Work; and tho' it may be true, that my extravagant\nStory may be the proper Foundation of a Romance, yet as no Man has a Title\nto publish it better than I have to expose and contradict it, I send you\nthis by one of my particular Friends, who having an Opportunity of\nreturning into _England_, has promis'd to convey it faithfully to you; by\nwhich, at least, two Things shall be made good to the World; first, that\nthey shall be satisfy'd in the scandalous and unjust Manner in which others\nhave already treated me, and it shall give, in the mean Time, a larger\nAccount of what may at present be fit to be made publick, of my unhappy\ntho' successful Adventures.\nI shall not trouble my Friends with any Thing of my Original and first\nIntroduction into the World, I leave it to you to add from yourself what\nyou think proper to be known on that Subject; only this I enjoin you to\ntake Notice of, that the Account printed of me, with all the Particulars of\nmy Marriage, my being defrauded, and leaving my Family and native Country\non that Account, is a meer Fable and a made Story, to embellish, as the\nWriter of it perhaps suppos'd, the rest of his Story, or perhaps to fill up\nthe Book, that it might swell to a Magnitude which his barren Invention\ncould not supply.\nIn the present Account, I have taken no Notice of my Birth, Infancy, Youth,\nor any of that Part; which, as it was the most useless Part of my Years to\nmyself so 'tis the most useless to any one that shall read this Work to\nknow, being altogether barren of any Thing remarkable in it self, or\ninstructing to others: It is sufficient to me to let the World know, as\nabove, that the former Accounts, made publick, are utterly false, and to\nbegin my Account of myself at a Period which may be more useful and\nentertaining.\nIt may be true, that I may represent some Particulars of my Life, in this\nTract, with Reserve, or Enlargement, such as may be sufficient to conceal\nany Thing in my present Circumstance that ought to be conceal'd and\nreserv'd, with Respect to my own Safety; and therefore, if on Pretence of\nJustice the busy World should look for me in one Part of the World when I\nam in another, search for my new Kingdom in _Madagascar_, and should not\nfind it, or search for my Settlement on one Side of the Island, when it\nlies on another, they must not take this ill; for Self-preservation being\nthe supreme Law of Nature, all Things of this Kind must submit to that.\nIn Order then to come immediately to my Story, I shall, without any\nCircumlocutions, give you Leave to tell the World, that being bred to the\nSea from a Youth, none of those romantick Introductions publish'd had any\nShare in my Adventures, or were any way the Cause of my taking the Courses\nI have since been embark'd in: But as in several Parts of my wandring Life\nI had seen something of the immense Wealth, which the Buccaneers, and other\nAdventurers, met with in their scouring about the World for Purchase, I\nhad, for a long Time, meditated in my Thoughts to get possess'd of a good\nShip for that Purpose, if I could, and to try my Fortune. I had been some\nYears in the Bay of _Campeachy_, and tho' with Patience I endur'd the\nFatigue of that laborious Life, yet it was as visible to others as to\nmyself, that I was not form'd by Nature for a Logwood-Cutter, any more than\nI was for a Foremast-man; and therefore Night and Day I apply'd myself to\nstudy how I should dismiss myself from that Drudgery, and get to be, first\nor last, Master of a good Ship, which was the utmost of my Ambition at that\nTime; resolving, in the mean Time, that when ever any such Thing should\nhappen, I would try my Fortune in the Cruising Trade, but would be sure not\nto prey upon my own Countrymen.\nIt was many Years after this before I could bring my Purposes to pass; and\nI serv'd, first, in some of the Adventures of Captain _Sharp_, Captain\n_Sawkins_, and others, in their bold Adventures in the South Seas, where I\ngot a very good Booty; was at the taking of _Puna_, where we were oblig'd\nto leave infinite Wealth behind us, for want of being able to bring it\naway; and after several Adventures in those Seas, was among that Party who\nfought their Way Sword in Hand thro' all the Detachments of the\n_Spaniards_, in the Journey over Land, cross the Isthmus of _Darien_, to\nthe North Seas; and when other of our Men gat away, some one Way, some\nanother, I, with twelve more of our Men, by Help of a _Periagua_, gat into\nthe Bay of _Campeachy_, where we fell very honestly to cutting of Logwood,\nnot for Want, but to employ ourselves till we could make off.\nHere three of our Men dy'd, and we that were left, shar'd their Money among\nus; and having stay'd here two Years, without seeing any Way of Escape that\nI dar'd to trust to, I at last, with two of our Men, who spoke _Spanish_\nperfectly well, made a desperate Attempt to travel over Land to L-- having\nbury'd all our Money, (which was worth eight thousand Pieces of Eight a\nMan, tho' most of it in Gold) in a Pit in the Earth which we dug twelve\nFoot deep, and where it would have lyen still, for no Man knew where to\nlook for it; but we had an Opportunity to come at it again some Years\nafter.\nWe travell'd along the Sea-shore five Days together, the Weather exceeding\nhot, and did not doubt but we should so disguise ourselves as to be taken\nfor _Spaniards_; but our better Fortune provided otherwise for us, for the\nsixth Day of our March we found a Canoe lying on the Shore with no one in\nher: We found, however, several Things in her, which told us plainly that\nshe belong'd to some _Englishmen_ who were on Shore; so we resolv'd to sit\ndown by her and wait: By and by we heard the _Englishmen_, who were seven\nin Number, and were coming back to their Boat, having been up the Country\nto an _Ingenio_, where they had gotten great Quantities of Provision, and\nwere bringing it down to their Boat which they had left on the Shore, (with\nthe Help of five _Indians_, of whom they had bought it) not thinking there\nwas any People thereabouts: When they saw us, not knowing who we were, they\nwere just going to fire at us; when I, perceiving it, held up a white Flag\nas high as I could reach it, which was, in short, only a Piece of an old\nLinnen Wastcoat which I had on, and pull'd it off for the Occasion; upon\nthis, however, they forbore firing at us, and when they came nearer to us,\nthey could easily see that we were their own Countrymen: They enquir'd of\nus what we came there for; we told them, we had travell'd from _Campeachy_,\nwhere being tir'd with the Hardships of our Fortune, and not getting any\nVessel to carry us where we durst go, we were even desperate, and cared not\nwhat became of us; so that had not they came to us thus happily, we should\nhave put our selves into the Hands of the _Spaniards_ rather than have\nperish'd where we were.\nThey took us into their Boat, and afterwards carry'd us on Board their\nShip; when we came there, we found they were a worse Sort of Wanderers than\nourselves, for tho' we had been a Kind of Pyrates, known and declar'd\nEnemies to the _Spaniards_, yet it was to them only, and to no other; for\nwe never offer'd to rob any of our other _European_ Nations, either _Dutch_\nor _French_, much less _English_; but now we were listed in the Service of\nthe Devil indeed, and, like him, were at War with all Mankind.\nHowever, we not only were oblig'd to sort with them, while with them, but\nin a little Time the Novelty of the Crime wore off, and we grew harden'd to\nit, like the rest: And in this Service I spent four Years more of my Time.\nOur Captain in this Pirate Ship was nam'd _Nichols_, but we call'd him\nCaptain _Redhand_; it seems it was a _Scots_ Sailor gave him that Name,\nwhen he was not the Head of the Crew, because he was so bloody a Wretch,\nthat he scarce ever was at the taking any Prize, but he had a Hand in some\nButchery or other.\nThey were hard put to it for fresh Provisions, or they would not have sent\nthus up into the Country a single Canoe; and when I came on Board they were\nso straiten'd, that, by my Advice, they resolv'd to go to the Isle of\n_Cuba_ to kill wild Beef, of which the South Side of the Island is so full:\nAccordingly we sail'd thither directly.\nThe Vessel carry'd sixteen Guns, but was fitted to carry twenty two, and\nthere was on Board one hundred and sixty stout Fellows, as bold and as\ncase-harden'd for the Work as ever I met with upon any Occasion whatever:\nWe victual'd in this Place for eight Months, by our Calculation; but our\nCook, who had the Management of the Salting and Pickling the Beef, order'd\nhis Matters so, that had he been let alone he would have starv'd us all,\nand poison'd us too; for as we are oblig'd to hunt the black Cattle in the\nIsland sometimes a great while before we can shoot them, it should be\nobserv'd, that the Flesh of those that are heated before they are kill'd,\nis not fit to be pickled or salted up for Keeping.\nBut this Man happening to pickle up the Beef, without Regard to this\nparticular Distinction, most of the Beef, so pickled, stunk before we left\nthe Place, so that we were oblig'd to throw it all away: The Men then said\nit was impossible to salt any Beef in those hot Countries, so as to\npreserve it, and would have had us given it over, and ha' gone to the Coast\nof _New England_, or _New York_, for Provisions; but I soon convinc'd them\nof the Mistake, and by only using the Caution, _viz._ not to salt up any\nBeef of those Cattle that had been hunted, we cur'd one hundred and forty\nBarrels of very good Beef, and such as lasted us a very great while.\nI began to be of some Repute among them upon this Occasion, and _Redhand_\ntook me into the Cabin with him to consult upon all Emergencies, and gave\nme the Name of Captain, though I had then no Command: By this Means I gave\nhim an Account of all my Adventures in the South Seas, and what a\nprodigious Booty we got there with Captain _Goignet_, the _Frenchman_, and\nwith Captain _Sharp_, and others; encouraging him to make an Attempt that\nWay, and proposing to him to go away to the _Brasils_, and so round by the\nStraits of _Magellan_, or _Cape Horn_.\nHowever, in this he was more prudent than I, and told me, that not only the\nStrength but the Force of his Ship was too small, not but that he had Men\nenough, as he said very well, but he wanted more Guns, and a better Ship;\nfor indeed the Ship we were in was but a weak crazy Boat for so long a\nVoyage: So he said he approv'd my Project very well, but that he thought we\nshould try to take some more substantial Vessel for the Business: And says\nhe, if we could but take a good stout Ship, fit to carry thirty Guns, and a\nSloop, or Brigantine, he would go with all his Heart.\nThis I could not but approve of; so we form'd the Scheme of the Design, and\nhe call'd all his Men together, and propos'd it to them, and they all\napprov'd it with a general Consent; and I had the Honour of being the\nContriver of the Voyage. From this Time we resolv'd, some how or other, to\nget a better Ship under us, and it was not long before an Opportunity\npresented to our Mind.\nBeing now upon the Coast of the Island of _Cuba_, we stood away West,\ncoasting the Island, and so went away for _Florida_, where we cruis'd among\nthe Islands, and in the Wake of the Gulph; but nothing presented a great\nwhile; at length we spy'd a Sail, which prov'd an _English_ homeward bound\nShip from _Jamaica_: We immediately chac'd her, and came up with her; she\nwas a stout Ship, and the Captain defended her very well; and had she not\nbeen a comber'd deep Ship, being full loaded, so that they could scarce\ncome at their Guns, we should have had our Hands full of her. But when they\nfound what we were, and that, being full of Men, we were resolv'd to be on\nBoard them, and that we had hoisted the black Flag, a Signal that we would\ngive them no Quarter, they began to sink in their Spirits, and soon after\ncry'd Quarter, offering to yield: _Redhand_ would have given them no\nQuarter, but, according to his usual Practice, would have thrown the Men\nall into the Sea; but I prevail'd with him to give them Quarter, and good\nUsage too; and so they yielded; and a very rich Prize it was, only that we\nknew not what to do with the Cargo.\nWhen we came to consider more seriously the Circumstances we were in by\ntaking this Ship, and what we should do with her, we found, that she was\nnot only deep loaden, but was a very heavy Sailer, and that, in short, she\nwas not such a Ship as we wanted; so, upon long Debate, we resolv'd to take\nout of her all the Rum, the Indigo, and the Money we could come at, with\nabout twenty Casks of Sugar, and twelve of her Guns, with all the\nAmmunition, small Arms, Bullets, _&c._ and let her go; which was\naccordingly done, to the great Joy of the Captain that commanded her:\nHowever, we took in her about six thousand Pounds Sterling in Pieces of\nEight.\nBut the next Prize we met, suited us better on all Accounts, being a Ship\nfrom _Kingsale_ in _Ireland_, loaden with Beef, and Butter, and Beer, for\n_Barbadoes_; never was Ship more welcome to Men in our Circumstances; this\nwas the very Thing we wanted: We saw the Ship early in the Morning, at\nabout five Leagues Distance, and we was three Days in Chace of her; she\nstood from us, as if she would have run away for the _Cape de Verd_\nIslands, and two or three Times we thought she sail'd so well she would\nhave got away from us, but we had always the good Luck to get Sight of her\nin the Morning: She was about 260 Tun, an _English_ Frigat-built Ship, and\nhad 12 Guns on Board, but could carry 20. The Commander was a Quaker, but\nyet had he been equal to us in Force, it appear'd by his Countenance he\nwould not have been afraid of his Flesh, or have baulk'd using the Carnal\nWeapon of Offence, _viz._ the Cannon Ball.\nWe soon made ourselves Master of this Ship when once we came up with him,\nand he was every Thing that we wanted; so we began to shift our Guns into\nher, and shifted about 60 Tun of her Butter and Beef into our own Frigate;\nthis made the _Irish_ Vessel be a clear Ship, lighter in the Water, and\nhave more Room on Board for Fight, if Occasion offer'd.\nWhen we had the old Quaking Skipper on Board, we ask'd him whether he would\ngo along with us; he gave us no Answer at first; but when we ask'd him\nagain, he return'd, that he did not know whether it might be safe for him\nto answer the Question: We told him, he should either go or stay, as he\npleas'd; Why then, says he, I had rather ye will give me Leave to decline\nit.\nWe gave him Leave, and accordingly set him on Shore afterwards at _Nevis_,\nwith ten of his Men; the rest went along with us as Volunteers, except the\nCarpenter and his Mate, and the Surgeon, those we took by Force: We were\nnow supply'd as well as Heart could wish, had a large Ship in our\nPossession, with Provisions enough for a little Fleet rather than for a\nsingle Ship. So with this Purchase we went away for the _Leeward Islands_,\nand fain we would have met with some of the _New York_ or _New England_\nShips, which generally come loaden with Peas, Flower, Pork, _&c._ But it\nwas a long while before any Thing of that Kind presented. We had promis'd\nthe _Irish_ Captain to set him on Shore, with his Company, at _Nevis_, but\nwe were not willing till we had done our Business in those Seas, because of\ngiving the Alarm among the Islands; so we went away for St. _Domingo_, and\nmaking that Island our Rendezvous, we cruis'd to the Eastward, in Hopes of\nsome Purchase; it was not long before we spy'd a Sail, which prov'd to be a\n_Burmoodas_ Sloop, but bound from _Virginia_ or _Maryland_, with Flower,\nTobacco, and some Malt; the last a Thing which in particular we knew not\nwhat to do with: However, the Flower and Tobacco was very welcome, and the\nSloop no less welcome than the rest; for she was a very large Vessel, and\ncarry'd near 60 Tun, and when not so deep loaden, prov'd an excellent\nSailer. Soon after this we met with another Sloop, but she was bound from\n_Barbadoes_ to _New England_, with Rum, Sugar, and Molosses: Nothing\ndisturb'd us in taking this Vessel, but that being willing enough to let\nher go; (for as to the Sugar and Molosses, we had neither Use for them, or\nRoom for them) but to have let her go, had been to give the Alarm to all\nthe Coast of _North America_, and then what we wanted would never come in\nour Way. Our Captain, justly call'd _Redhand_, or _Bloodyhand_, was\npresently for dispatching them, that they might tell no Tales; and, indeed,\nthe Necessity of the Method had very near prevail'd; nor did I much\ninterpose here, I know not why, but some of the other Men put him in as\ngood a Way; and that was, to bring the Sloop to an Anchor under the Lee of\nSt. _Domingo_, and take away all her Sails, that she should not stir till\nwe gave her Leave.\nWe met with no less than five Prizes more here in about 20 Days Cruise, but\nnone of them for our Turn; one of them, indeed, was a Vessel bound to St.\n_Christopher_'s with _Madera_ Wine: We borrow'd about 20 Pipes of the Wine,\nand let her go. Another was a _New England_ built Ship, of about 150 Tun,\nbound also Home with Sugar and Molosses, which was good for nothing to us;\nhowever, we gat near 1000 _l._ on Board her in Pieces of Eight, and taking\naway her Sails, as before, brought her to an Anchor under the Lee of the\nSloop: At last we met with what we wanted, and this was another Ship of\nabout 100 Tun, from _New England_, bound to _Barbadoes_; she had on Board\n150 Barrels of Flower, about 350 Barrels of Pease, and 10 Tun of Pork\nbarrell'd up and pickel'd, besides some live Hogs, and some Horses, and six\nTun of Beer.\nWe were now sufficiently provided for; in all those Prizes we got also\nabout 56 Men, who, by Choice and Volunteer, agree'd to go along with us,\nincluding the Carpenters and Surgeons, who we oblig'd always to go; so that\nwe were now above 200 Men, two Ships, and the _Burmoodas_ Sloop; and giving\nthe other Sloop, and the _New England_ homeward bound Ship their Sails\nagain, we let them go; and as to the Malt which we took in the _Burmoodas_\nSloop, we gave it the last _New England_ Master, who was going to\n_Barbadoes_.\nWe gat in all those Ships, besides the Provisions above-mention'd, about\n200 Musquets and Pistols, good Store of Cutlasses, about 20 Tun of Iron\nShot and Musquet Ball, and 33 Barrels of good Powder, which was all very\nsuitable Things to our Occasions.\nWe were fully satisfy'd, as we said to one another, now, and concluded that\nwe would stand away to the Windward, as well as we could, towards the Coast\nof _Africa_, that we might come in the Wind's Way for the Coast of\n_Brasil_; but our Frigat (I mean that we were first shipp'd in) was yet out\nupon the Cruise, and not come in; so we came to an Anchor to wait for her,\nwhen, behold, the next Morning she came in with full Sail, and a Prize in\nTow: She had, it seems, been farther West than her Orders, but had met with\na _Spanish_ Prize, whither bound, or from whence, I remember we did not\nenquire, but we found in her, besides Merchandize, which we had no Occasion\nfor, 65000 Pieces of Eight in Silver, some Gold, and two Boxes of Pearl of\na good Value; five _Dutch_, or rather _Flemish_, Seamen that were on Board\nher, were willing to go with us; and as to the rest of the Cargo, we let\nher go, only finding four of her Guns were Brass, we took them into our\nShip, with seven great Jars of Powder, and some Cannon-Shot, and let her\ngo, using the _Spaniards_ very civilly.\nThis was a Piece of meer good Fortune to us, and was so encouraging as\nnothing could be more, for it set us up, as we may say; for now we thought\nwe could never fail of good Fortune, and we resolv'd, one and all, directly\nto the South Seas.\nIt was about the Middle of _August_ 1690 that we set forward, and steering\nE. by S. and E. S. E. for about fifteen Days, with the Winds at N. N. W.\nvariable, we came quickly into the Trade Winds, with a good Offing, to go\nclear of all the Islands; and so we steer'd directly for _Cape St.\nAugustin_ in the _Brasils_, which we made the 22nd of _September_.\nWe cruis'd some Time upon the Coast, about the Bay of _All Saints_, and put\nin once or twice for fresh Water, especially at the Island of St. _John_'s,\nwhere we got good Store of Fish, and some Hogs, which, for fresh\nProvisions, was a great Relief to us: But we gat no Purchase here; for\nwhether it was that their _European_ Ships were just come in, or just gone\nout, we know not, or whether they suspected what we were, and so kept close\nwithin their Ports, but in thirteen Days that we ply'd off and on about\n_Fernambuque_, and about fourteen Days more that we spent in coasting along\nthe _Brasil_ Shore to the South, we met not one Ship, neither saw a Sail,\nexcept of their Fishing-Boats or small Coasters, who kept close under\nShore.\nWe cross'd the Line here about the latter End of _September_, and found the\nAir exceeding hot and unwholsome, the Sun being in the _Zenith_, and the\nWeather very wet and rainy; so we resolv'd to stand away South, without\nlooking for any more Purchase on that Side.\nAccordingly we kept on to the South, having tolerable good Weather, and\nkeeping the Shore all the Way in View till we came the Length of St.\n_Julien_, in the Latitude of 48 Degrees, 22 Minutes South; here we put in\nagain, being the Beginning of _November_, and took in fresh Water, and\nspent about ten Days, refreshing ourselves, and fitting our Tackle; all\nwhich Time we liv'd upon Penguins and Seals, of which we kill'd an\ninnumerable Number; and when we prepar'd to go, we salted up as many\nPenguins as we found would serve our whole Crew, to eat them twice a Week\nas long as they would keep.\nHere we consulted together about going thro' the Straits of _Magellan_; but\nI put them quite out of Conceit of making that troublesom and fatieguing\nAdventure, the Straits being so hazardous, and so many Winds requir'd to\npass them; and having assur'd them, that in our Return with _Bat Sharp_, we\nwent away to the Latitude of 55 Degrees 30 Minutes, and then steering due\nEast, came open with the North Seas in five Days Run, they all agreed to go\nthat Way.\nOn the 20th of November we weigh'd from Port _Julien_, and having a fair\nWind at N. E. by E. led it away merrily, till we came into the Latitude of\n54, when the Wind veering more Northerly, and then to the N. W. blowing\nhard, we were driven into 55 Degrees and half, but lying as near as we\ncould to the Wind, we made some Westward Way withal: The 3d of _December_\nthe Wind came up South, and S. E. by S. being now just as it were at the\nBeginning of the Summer Solstice in that Country.\nWith this Wind, which blew a fresh Gale, we stood away N. N. W. and soon\nfound ourselves in open Sea, to the West of _America_; upon which we haul'd\naway N. by E. and N. N. E. and then N. E. when on the 20th of _December_ we\nmade the Land, being the Coast of _Chili_, in the Latitude of 41 Degrees,\nabout the Height of _Baldivia_; and we stood out from hence till we made\nthe Isle of St. _Juan Fernando_, where we came to an Anchor, and went on\nShore to get fresh Water; also some of our Men went a hunting for Goats, of\nwhich we kill'd enough to feed us all with fresh Meat for all the while we\nstay'd here, which was 22 Days. [_Jan._ 11.]\nDuring this Stay we sent the Sloop out to Cruise, but she came back without\nseeing any Vessel; after which we order'd her out again more to the North,\nbut she was scarce gone a League, when she made a Signal that she saw a\nSail, and that we should come out to help them; accordingly the Frigat put\nto Sea after them, but making no Signal for us to follow, we lay still, and\nwork'd hard at cleaning our Ship, shifting some of the Rigging, and the\nlike.\nWe heard no more of them in three Days, which made us repent sorely that we\nhad not gone all three together; but the third Day they came back, tho'\nwithout any Prize, as we thought, but gave us an Account that they had\nchac'd a great Ship and a Bark all Night, and the next Day; that they took\nthe Bark the Evening before, but found little in her of Value; that the\ngreat Ship ran on Shore among some Rocks, where they durst not go in after\nher, but that manning out their Boats, they got on Shore so soon, that the\nMen belonging to her durst not land; that then they threaten'd to burn the\nShip as she lay, and burn them all in her, if they did not come on Shore\nand surrender: They offer'd to surrender, giving them their Liberty, which\nour Men would not promise at first; but after some Parly, and arguing on\nboth Sides, our Men agreed thus far, that they should remain Prisoners for\nso long as we were in those Seas, but that as soon as we came to the Height\nof _Panama_, or if we resolv'd to return sooner, then they should be set at\nLiberty; and to these hard Conditions they yielded.\nOur Men found in the Ship 6 Brass Guns, 200 Sacks of Meal, some Fruit, and\nthe Value of 160000 Pieces of Eight in Gold of _Chili_, as good as any in\nthe World: It was a glittering Sight, and enough to dazzle the Eyes of\nthose that look'd on it, to see such a Quantity of Gold laid all of a Heap\ntogether, and we began to embrace one another in Congratulation of our good\nFortune.\nWe brought the Prisoners all to the Island _Fernando_, where we used them\nvery well, built little Houses for them, gave them Bread, and Meat, and\nevery Thing they wanted; and gave them Powder and Ball to kill Goats with,\nwhich they were fully satisfy'd with, and kill'd a great many for us too.\nWe continu'd to Cruise [_Feb._ 2] hereabout, but without finding any other\nPrize for near three Weeks more; so we resolv'd to go up as high as _Puna_,\nthe Place where I had been so lucky before; and we assur'd our Prisoners,\nthat in about two Months we would return, and relieve them; but they chose\nrather to be on Board us, so we took them all in again, and kept on with an\neasy Sail, at a proper Distance from Land, that we might not be known, and\nthe Alarm given; for as to the Ship which we had taken, and which was\nstranded among the Rocks, as we had taken all the Men out of her, the\nPeople on the Shore, when they should find her, could think no other than\nthat she was driven on Shore by a Storm, and that all the People were\ndrown'd, or all escap'd and gone; and there was no Doubt but that the Ship\nwould beat to Pieces in a very few Days.\nWe kept, I say, at a Distance from the Shore, to prevent giving the Alarm;\nbut it was a needless Caution, for the Country was all alarm'd on another\nAccount, _viz._ about an 130 bold Buccaneers had made their Way over Land,\nnot at the Isthmus of _Darien_, as usual, but from _Granada_, on the Lake\nof _Nicaragua_ to the North of _Panama_, by which, tho' the Way was longer,\nand the Country not so practicable as at the ordinary Passage, yet they\nwere unmolested, for they surpriz'd the Country; and whereas the\n_Spaniards_, looking for them at the old Passage, had drawn Entrenchments,\nplanted Guns, and posted Men at the Passages of the Mountains, to intercept\nthem and cut them off, here they met with no _Spaniards_, nor any other\nObstruction in their Way, but coming to the South Sea had Time,\nundiscover'd, to build themselves Canoes and Periaguas, and did a great\ndeal of Mischief upon the Shore, having been follow'd, among the rest, by\n80 Men more, commanded by one _Guilotte_, a _Frenchman_, an old Buccaneer;\nso that they were now 210 Men; and they were not long at Sea before they\ntook two _Spanish_ Barks going from _Guatimala_ to _Panama_, loaden with\nMeal, Coco, and other Provisions; so that now they were a Fleet of two\nBarks, with several Canoes, and Periaguas, but no Guns, nor any more\nAmmunition than every one carry'd at first at their Backs.\nHowever, this Troop of Desperadoes had alarm'd all the Coast, and Expresses\nboth by Sea and Land were dispatch'd, to warn the Towns on the Coast to be\nupon their Guard, all the way from _Panama_ to _Lima_; but as they were\nrepresented to be only such Freebooters as I have said, Ships of Strength\ndid not desist their Voyages, as they found Occasion, as we shall observe\npresently: We were now gotten into the Latitude of 10, 11, and 12 Degrees\nand a Half; but, in our overmuch Caution, had kept out so far to Sea, that\nwe miss'd every Thing which would otherwise have fallen into our Hands; but\nwe were better inform'd quickly, as you shall hear.\nEarly in the Morning, one of our Men being on the Missen-top, cry'd, A\nSail, a Sail; it prov'd to be a small Vessel standing just after us; and as\nwe understood afterwards, did so, believing that we were some of the King's\nShips looking after the Buccaneers. As we understood she was a-Stern of us,\nwe shorten'd Sail, and hung out the _Spanish_ Colours, separating\nourselves, to make him suppose we were cruising for the Buccaneers, and did\nnot look for him; however, when we saw him come forward, but stretching in\na little towards the Shore, we took Care to be so much to Starboard that he\ncould not escape us that Way; and when he was a little nearer, the Sloop\nplainly chac'd him, and in a little Time came up with him, and took him: We\nhad little Goods in the Vessel, their chief Loading being Meal and Corn for\n_Panama_, but the Master happen'd to have 6000 Pieces of Eight in his\nCabin, which was good Booty.\nBut that which was better than all this to us was, that the Master gave us\nan Account of two Ships which were behind, and were under Sail for _Lima_\nor _Panama_; the one having the Revenues of the Kingdom of _Chili_, and the\nother having a great Quantity of Silver, going from _Puna_ to _Lima_, to be\nforwarded from thence to _Panama_, and that they kept together, being Ships\nof Force, to protect one another; how they did it we soon saw the Effects\nof.\nUpon this Intelligence we were very joyful, and assur'd the Master, that if\nwe found it so, we would give him his Vessel again, and all his Goods,\nexcept his Money, as for That, we told him, such People as we never\nreturn'd it any Body: However, the Man's Intelligence prov'd good, for the\nvery next Day, as we were standing South-West, our _Spanish_ Colours being\nout, as above, we spy'd one of the Ships, and soon after the other; we\nfound they had discover'd us also, and that being doubtful what to make of\nus, they tack'd and stood Eastward to get nearer the Land; we did the like,\nand as we found there was no letting them go that Way but that we should be\nsure to lose them, we soon let them know that we were resolv'd to speak\nwith them.\nThe biggest Ship, which was three Leagues a-Stern of the other, crowded in\nfor the Shore with all the Sail, she could make, and it was easy for us to\nsee that she would escape us; for as she was a great deal farther in with\nthe Land than the other when we first gave Chace, so in about three Hours\nwe saw the Land plain a-Head of us, and that the great Ship would get into\nPort before we could reach her.\nUpon this we stretch'd a-Head with all the Sail we could make, and the\nSloop, which crowded also very hard, and out-went us, engag'd the small\nShip at least an Hour before we could come up: But she could make little of\nit, for the _Spanish_ Ship having 12 Guns and 6 Patereroes, would have been\ntoo many for the Sloop if we had not come up: However, at length, our\nbiggest Ship came up also, and, running up under her Quarter, gave her our\nwhole Broadside; at which she struck immediately, and the _Spaniards_\ncry'd, _Quarter_, and _Miserecordia_; Upon this, our Sloop's Men enter'd\nher presently, and secur'd her.\nIn the Beginning oft his Action, it seems, our _Redhand_ Captain was so\nprovok'd at losing the greater Prize, which, as he thought, had all the\nMoney on Board, that he swore he would not spare one of the Dogs, (so he\ncall'd the _Spaniards_ in the other Ship) but he was prevented; and it was\nvery happy for the _Spaniards_, that the first Shot the Ship made towards\nus, just as we were running up to pour in our Broadside, I say, the first\nShot took Captain _Redhand_ full on the Breast, and shot his Head and one\nShoulder off, so that he never spoke more, nor did I find that any one Man\nin the Ship shew'd the least Concern for him; so certain it is, that\nCruelty never recommends any Man among _Englishmen_; no, tho' they have no\nShare in the suffering under it; but one said, D--n him, let him go, he was\na butcherly Dog; another said, D--n him, he was a merciless Son of a B--ch;\nanother said, he was a barbarous Dog, and the like.\nBut to return to the Prize, being now as certain of the smaller Prize as\nthat we had miss'd the great one, we began to examine what we had got; and\nit is not easy to give an exact Account of the prodigious Variety of Things\nwe found: In the first Place, were 116 Chests of Pieces of Eight in Specie,\n72 Bars of Silver, 15 Bags of wrought Plate, which a Fryer that was on\nBoard would have perswaded us, for the Sake of the Blessed Virgin, to have\nreturn'd, being, as he said, consecrated Plate to the Honour of the holy\nChurch, the Virgin _Mary_, and St. _Martin_; but, as it happen'd, he could\nnot perswade us to it; also we found about 60000 Ounces of Gold, some in\nlittle Wedges, some in Dust. We found several other Things of Value, but\nnot to be nam'd with the rest.\nBeing thus made surprisingly rich, we began to think what Course we should\nsteer next; for as the great Ship, which was escap'd, would certainly alarm\nthe Country, we might be sure we should meet with no more Purchase at Sea,\nand we were not very fond of landing, to attack any Town on Shore. In this\nConsultation 'tis to be observ'd, that I was, by the unanimous Consent of\nall the Crew, made Captain of the great Ship, and of the whole Crew; the\nwhole Voyage hither, and every Part of it, having, for some Time before,\nbeen chiefly manag'd by my Direction, or at least by my Advice.\nThe first Thing I propos'd to them all, was, seeing we had met with such\ngood Luck, and that we could not expect much more, and if we stay'd longer\nin these Seas, should find it very hard to revictual our Ships, and might\nhave our Retreat cut off by _Spanish_ Men of war; (five of which we heard\nwere sent out after the other Buccaneers) we should make the best of our\nWay to the South, and get about into the North Seas, where we were out of\nall Danger.\nIn Consequence of this Advice, which was generally approv'd, we stood away\ndirectly South; and the Wind blowing pretty fair at N. N. E. a merry Gale,\nwe stood directly for the Isle of _Juan Fernando_, carrying our rich Prize\nwith us.\nWe arriv'd here the Beginning of _June_, having been just six Months in\nthose Seas. We were surpriz'd, when coming to the Island, we found two\nShips at an Anchor close under the Lee of the Rocks, and two little\nPeriaguas farther in, near the Shore; but being resolv'd to see what they\nwere, we found, to our Satisfaction, they were the Buccaneers of whom I\nhave spoken above: The Story is too long to enter upon here; but in short,\nwithout Guns, without Ship, and only coming over Land with their Fusees in\ntheir Hands, they had rang'd these Seas, had taken several Prizes, and some\npretty rich, and had got two pretty handsome Barks, one carry'd six Guns,\nand the other four; they had shar'd, as they told us, about 400 Pieces of\nEight a Man, besides one Thing they had which we were willing to buy of\nthem; they had about 100 Jarrs of Gunpowder, which they took out of a Store\nShip going to _Lima_.\nIf we was glad to meet them, you may be sure they were glad to meet with\nus, and so we began to sort together as one Company, only they were loth to\ngive over and return, as we were and which we had now resolv'd on.\nWe were so rich ourselves, and so fully satisfy'd with what we had taken,\nthat we began to be bountiful to our Countrymen; and indeed they dealt so\ngenerously with us, that we could not but be inclin'd to do them some Good,\nfor when we talk'd of buying their Gunpowder, they very frankly gave us 50\nJarrs of it _gratis_.\nI took this so kindly, that I call'd a little Council among ourselves, and\npropos'd to send the poor Rogues 50 Barrels of our Beef, which we could\nvery well spare; and our Company agreeing to it, we did so, which made\ntheir Hearts glad; for it was very good, and they had not tasted good\nSalt-beef for a long Time; and with it we sent them two Hogsheads of Rum:\nThis made them so hearty to us, that they sent two of their Company to\ncompliment us, to offer to enter themselves on Board us, and to go with us\nall the World over.\nWe did not so readily agree to this at first, because we had no new\nEnterprize in View; but however, as they sent us Word they had chosen me so\nunanimously for their Captain, I propos'd to our Men to remove ourselves,\nand all our Goods, into the great Ship and the Sloop, and so take the\nhonest Fellows into the Fregat, which now had no less than 22 Guns, and\nwould hold them all, and then they might sail with us, or go upon any\nAdventures of their own, as we should agree.\nAccordingly we did so, and gave them that Ship, with all her Guns and\nAmmunition, but made one of our own Men Captain, which they consented to,\nand so we became all one Body.\nHere also we shar'd our Booty, which was great indeed to a Profusion; and\nas keeping such a Treasure in every Man's particular private Possession,\nwould have occasion'd Gaming, Quarrelling, and perhaps Thieving and\nPilfering, I order'd that so many small Chests should be made as there were\nMen in the Ship, and every Man's Treasure was nail'd up in these Chests,\nand the Chests all stow'd in the Hold, with every Man's Name upon his\nChest, not to be touch'd but by general Order, and to prevent Gaming, I\nprevail'd with them to make a Law or Agreement, and everyone to set their\nHands to it; by which they agreed, That if any Man play'd for any more\nMoney than he had in his Keeping, the Winner should not be paid whatever\nthe Loser run in Debt, but the Chest containing every Man's Dividend,\nshould be all his own, to be deliver'd whole to him; and the Offender,\nwhenever he left the Ship, if he would pay any Gaming Debts afterward, that\nwas another Case; but such Debts should never be paid while he continu'd in\nthat Company.\nBy this Means also we secur'd the Ship's Crew keeping together; for if any\nMan left the Ship now, he was sure to leave about 6000 Pieces of Eight\nbehind him, to be shar'd among the rest of the Ship's Company, which few of\nthem car'd to do.\nAs we were now all embark'd together, the next Question was, Whither we\nshould go? As for our Crew, we were so rich, that our Men were all for\ngoing back again, and so to make off to some of the _Leeward Islands_, that\nwe might get a-Shore privately with our Booty: But as we had shipp'd our\nnew Comrades on Board a good Ship, it would be very hard to oblige them to\ngo back without any Purchace, for that would be to give them a Ship to do\nthem no Good, but to carry them back to _Europe_ just as they came out from\nthence, _viz._ with no Money in their Pockets.\nUpon these Considerations we came to this Resolution, That they should go\nout to Sea and Cruise the Height of _Lima_, and try their Fortune, and that\nwe would stay 60 Days for them at _Juan Fernando_.\nUpon this Agreement they went away very joyful, and we fell to work to new\nrig our Ship, mending our Sails, and cleaning our Bottom. Here we employ'd\nourselves a Month very hard at Work; our Carpenters also took down some of\nthe Ship's upper Work, and built it, as we thought, more to the Advantage\nof Sailing; so that we had more Room within, and yet did not lie so high.\nDuring this Time we had a Tent set up on Shore, and 50 of our Men employ'd\nthemselves wholly in killing Goats and Fowls for our fresh Provisions; and\none of our Men understanding we had some Malt left on Board the Ship, which\nwas taken in one of the Prizes, set up a great Kettle on Shore, and went to\nwork to Brewing, and, to our great Satisfaction, brew'd us some very good\nBeer; but we wanted Bottles to keep it in, after it had stood a while in\nthe Cask.\nHowever, he brew'd us very good Small Beer, for present Use; and instead of\nHops he found some wild Wormwood growing on the Island, which gave it no\nunpleasant Taste, and made it very agreeable to us.\nBefore the Time was expir'd, our Frigat sent a Sloop to us, which they had\ntaken, to give us Notice that they were in a small Creek near the Mould of\nthe River _Guyaquil_, on the Coast of _Peru_, in the Latitude of 22\nDegrees. They had a great Booty in View, there being two Ships in the River\nof _Guyaquil_, and two more expected to pass by from _Lima_, in which was a\ngreat Quantity of Plate; that they waited there for them, and begg'd we\nwould not think the Time long; but that if we should go away, they desir'd\nthat we would fix up a Post, with a Piece of Lead on it, signifying where\nthey should come to us, and wherever it was, East or West, North or South,\nthey would follow us with all the Sail they could make.\nA little while after this, they sent another Sloop, which they had taken\nalso; and she brought a vast Treasure in Silver and very rich Goods, which\nthey had got in plundering a Town on the Continent; and they order'd the\nSloop to wait for them at the Island where we lay, till their Return: But\nthey were so eager in the Pursuit of their Game, that they could not think\nof coming back yet, neither could we blame them, they having such great\nThings in View: So we resolv'd, in Pursuit of our former Resolution, to be\ngone; and after several Consultations among our selves in what Part of the\nWorld we should pitch our Tent, we broke up at first without any\nConclusion.\nWe were all of the Opinion, that our Treasure was so great, that wherever\nwe went, we should be a Prey to the Government of that Place; that it was\nimpossible to go all on Shore, and be conceal'd; and that we should be so\njealous of one another, that we should certainly betray one another,\neveryone for fear of his Fellow, that is to say, for fear the other should\ntell first. Some therefore propos'd our going about the South Point of Cape\n_Horne_, and that then, going away to the Gulph of _Mexico_, we should go\non Shore at the Bay of _Campeachy_, and from thence disperse ourselves as\nwell as we could, and every one go his own Way.\nI was willing enough to have gone thither, because of the Treasure I had\nleft there under Ground; but still I concluded we were (as I have said) too\nrich to go on Shore any where to separate, for every Man of us had too much\nWealth to carry about us; and if we separated, the first Number of Men any\nof us should meet with, that were strong enough to do it, would take it\nfrom us, and so we should but just expose ourselves to be murder'd for that\nMoney we had gotten at so much Hazard.\nSome propos'd then our going to the Coast of _Virgina_, and go some on\nShore in one Place, and some in another privately, and so travelling to the\nSea-Ports where there were most People, we might be conceal'd, and by\nDegrees reduce our selves to a private Capacity, every one shifting Home as\nwell as they could. This I acknowledge might be done, if we were sure none\nof us would be false one to another; but while Tales might be told, and the\nTeller of the Tale was sure to save his own Life and Treasure, and make his\nPeace at the Expence of his Comrade's, there was no Safety; and they might\nbe sure, that as the Money would render them suspected wherever they came,\nso they would be examin'd, and what by faltering in their Story, and by\nbeing cross-examin'd, kept apart, and the one being made to believe the\nother had betray'd him, and told all, when indeed he might have said\nnothing to hurt him, the Truth of Fact would be dragg'd out by Piece-meal,\ntill they would certainly at last come to the Gallows.\nThese Objections were equally just, to what Nation or Place soever we could\nthink of going: So that upon the whole, we concluded there was no Safety\nfor us but by keeping all together, and going to some Part of the World\nwhere we might be strong enough to defend ourselves, or be so conceal'd\ntill we might find out some Way of Escape that we might not now be so well\nable to think of.\nIn the Middle of all these Consultations, in which I freely own I was at a\nLoss, and could not tell which Way to advise, an old Sailor stood up, and\ntold us, if we would be advis'd by him, there was a Part of the World where\nhe had been, where we might all settle ourselves undisturb'd, and live very\ncomfortably and plentifully, till we could find out some Way how to dispose\nof ourselves better; and that we might easily be strong enough for the\nInhabitants, who would at first, perhaps, attack us, but that afterwards\nthey would sort very well with us, and supply us with all Sorts of\nProvisions very plentifully; and this was the Island of _Madagascar_: He\ntold us we might live very well there. He gave us a large Account of the\nCountry, the Climate, the People, the Plenty of Provisions which was to be\nhad there, especially of black Cattle, of which, he said, there was an\ninfinite Number, and consequently a Plenty of Milk, of which so many other\nThings was made: In a Word, he read us so many Lectures upon the Goodness\nof the Place, and the Conveniency of living there, that we were, one and\nall, eager to go thither, and concluded upon it.\nAccordingly, having little left to do, (for we had been in a sailing\nPosture some Weeks) we left word with the Officer who commanded the Sloop,\nand with all his Men, that they should come after us to _Madagascar_; and\nour Men were not wanting to let them know all our Reasons for going\nthither, as well as the Difficulties we found of going any where else,\nwhich had so fully possess'd them with the Hopes of farther Advantage, that\nthey promis'd for the rest that they would all follow us.\nHowever, as we all calculated the Length of the Voyage, and that our Water,\nand perhaps our Provisions might not hold out so far, but especially our\nWater, we agreed, that having pass'd Cape _Horn_, and got into the North\nSeas, we would steer Northward up the East Shore of _America_ till we came\nto St. _Julien_, where we would stay at least fourteen Days to take in\nWater, and to store ourselves with Seals and Penguins, which would greatly\neek out our Ship's Stores; and that then we should cross the great\n_Atlantick_ Ocean in a milder Latitude than if we went directly, and stood\nimmediately over from the Passage about the Cape, which must be, at least,\nin 55 or 56, and perhaps, as the Weather might be, would be in the Latitude\nWith this Resolution, and under these Measures, we set Sail from the Island\nof St. _Juan Fernando_ the 23d of _September_, (being the same there as our\n_March_ is here) and keeping the Coast of _Chili_ on Board, had good\nWeather for about a Fortnight, [_Octob._ 14.] till we came into the\nLatitude of 44 Degrees South; when finding the Wind come squally off the\nShore from among the Mountains, we were oblig'd to keep farther out at Sea,\nwhere the Winds were less uncertain; and some Calms we met with, till about\nthe Middle of _October_, [16.] when the Wind springing up at N. N. W. a\npretty moderate Gale, we jogg'd S. E. and S. S. E. till we came into the\nLatitude of 55 Degrees; and the 16th of _November_, found our selves in 59\nDegrees, the Weather exceeding cold and severe. But the Wind holding fair,\nwe held in with the Land, and steering E. S. E. we held that Course till we\nthought ourselves entirely clear of the Land, and enter'd into the North\nSea, or _Atlantick Ocean_; and then changing our Course, we steer'd N. and\nN. N. E. but the Wind blowing still at N. N. W. a pretty stiff Gale, we\ncould make nothing of it till we made the Land in the Latitude of 52\nDegrees; and when we came close under Shore, we found the Winds variable;\nso we made still N. under the Lee of the Shore, and made the Point of St.\n_Julien_ the 13th of November, having been a Year and seven Days since we\nparted from thence on our Voyage Outwardbound.\nHere we rested ourselves, took in fresh Water, and began to kill Seals and\nFowls of several Sorts, but especially Penguins, which this Place is noted\nfor; and here we stay'd, in Hopes our Fregate would arrive, but we heard no\nNews of her; so, at Parting, we set up a Post, with this Inscription, done\non a Plate of Lead, with our Names upon the Lead, and these Words;\n   _Gone to Madagascar_, _December_ 10, 1692.\n(Being in that Latitude the longest Day in the Year;) and I doubt not but\nthe Post may stand there still.\nFrom hence we launch'd out into the vast _Atlantick Ocean_, steering our\nCoast E. by N. and E. N. E. till we had sail'd, by our Account, about 470\nLeagues, taking our Meridian Distance, or Departure, from St. _Julian_. And\nhere a strong Gale springing up at S. E. by E. and E. S. E. encreasing\nafterwards to a violent Storm, we were forc'd by it to the Norward, as high\nas the _Tropick_; not that it blew a Storm all the while, but it blew so\nsteady, and so very hard, for near 20 Days together, that we were carry'd\nquite out of our intended Course: After we had weather'd this, we began to\nrecover ourselves again, making still East; and endeavouring to get to the\nSouthward, we had yet another hard Gale of Wind at S. and S. S. E. so\nstrong, that we could make nothing of it at all; whereupon it was resolv'd,\nif we could, to make the Island of St. _Helena_, which in about three Weeks\nmore we very happily came to, on the 17th of _January_.\nIt was to our great Satisfaction that we found no Ships at all here, and we\nresolv'd not by any Means to let the Governor on Shore know our Ship's\nName, or any of our Officers Names; and I believe our Men were very true to\none another in that Point, but they were not at all shy of letting them\nknow upon what Account we were, _&c._ so that if he could have gotten any\nof us in his Power, as we were afterwards told he endeavour'd by two or\nthree Ambuscades to do, we should have pass'd our Time but very\nindifferently; for which, when we went away, we let him know we would not\nhave fail'd to have beat his little Port about his Ears.\nWe stay'd no longer here than just serv'd to refresh ourselves, and supply\nour Want of fresh Water; the Wind presenting fair, _Feb._ 2. 1692, we set\nSail, and (not to trouble my Story with the Particulars of the Voyage, in\nwhich nothing remarkable occur'd) we doubled the Cape the 13th of _March_,\nand passing on without coming to an Anchor, or discovering ourselves, we\nmade directly to the Island of _Madagascar_, where we arriv'd the 7th of\n_April_; the Sloop, to our particular Satisfaction, keeping in Company all\nthe Way, and bearing the Sea as well as our Ship upon all Occasions.\nTo this Time I had met with nothing but good Fortune; Success answer'd\nevery Attempt, and follow'd every Undertaking, and we scarce knew what it\nwas to be disappointed; but we had an Interval of our Fortunes to meet with\nin this Place: We arriv'd, as above, at the Island on the 13th of _March_,\nbut we did not care to make the South Part of the Island our Retreat; nor\nwas it a proper Place for our Business, which was to take Possession of a\nprivate secure Place to make a Refuge of: So after staying some Time where\nwe put in, which was on the Point of Land a little to the South of Cape\nSt._ Augustine_, and taking in Water and Provisions there, we stood away to\nthe North, and keeping the Island in View, went on till we came to the\nLatitude of 14 Degrees: Here we met with a very terrible Tornado, or\n_Hurricane_, which, after we had beat the Sea as long as we could, oblig'd\nus to run directly for the Shore to save our Lives as well as we could, in\nHopes of finding some Harbour or Bay where we might run in, or at least\nmight go into smooth Water till the Storm was over.\nThe Sloop was more put to it than we were in the great Ship, and being\noblig'd to run afore it, a little sooner than we did, she serv'd for a\nPilot-Boat to us which follow'd; in a Word, she run in under the Lee of a\ngreat Head-land, which jetted far out into the Sea, and stood very high\nalso, and came to an Anchor in three Fathom and a half Water: We follow'd\nher, but not with the same good Luck, tho' we came to an Anchor too, as we\nthought, safe enough; but the Sea going very high, our Anchor came Home in\nthe Night, and we drove on Shore in the Dark among the Rocks, in spight of\nall we were able to do.\nThus we lost the most fortunate Ship that ever Man sail'd with; however,\nmaking Signals of Distress to the Sloop, and by the Assistance of our own\nBoat, we sav'd our Lives; and the Storm abating in the Morning, we had Time\nto save many Things, particularly our Guns, and most of our Ammunition;\nand, which was more than all the rest, we sav'd our Treasure: Tho' I\nmention the saving our Guns first, yet they were the last Things we sav'd,\nbeing oblig'd to break the upper Deck of the Ship up for them.\nBeing thus got on Shore, and having built us some Huts for our Conveniency,\nwe had nothing before us but a View of fixing our Habitations in the\nCountry; for tho' we had the Sloop, we could propose little Advantage by\nher; for as to cruising for Booty among the _Arabians_ or _Indians_, we had\nneither Room, for it or Inclination to it; and as for attacking any\n_European_ Ship, the Sloop was in no Condition to do it, tho' we had all\nbeen on Board; for every Body knows that all the Ships trading from\n_Europe_ to the _East-Indies_, were Ships of Force, and too strong for us;\nso that, in short, we had nothing in View for several Months but how to\nsettle ourselves here, and live as comfortably and as well as we could,\ntill something or other might offer for our Deliverance.\nIn this Condition we remain'd on Shore above eight Months, during which\nTime we built us a little Town, and fortify'd it by the Direction of one of\nour Gunners, who was a very good Engineer, in a very clever and regular\nManner, placing a very strong double Palisado round the Foot of our Works,\nand a very large Ditch without our Palisado, and a third Palisado beyond\nthe Ditch, like a Counterscarp or Cover'd-way; besides this, we rais'd a\nlarge Battery next to the Sea, with a Line of 24 Guns plac'd before it, and\nthus we thought ourselves in a Condition to defend ourselves against any\nForce that could attempt us in that Part of the World.\nAnd besides all this, the Place on which our Habitation was built, being an\nIsland, there was no coming easily at us by Land.\nBut I was far from being easy in this Situation of our Affairs; so I made a\nProposal to our Men one Day, that tho' we were well enough in our\nHabitation, and wanted for nothing, yet since we had a Sloop here, and a\nBoat so good as she was, 'twas Pity she should lye and perish there, but we\nshould send her Abroad, and see what might happen; that perhaps it might be\nour good Luck to surprise some Ship or other for our Turn, and so we might\nall go to Sea again: The Proposal was well enough relish'd at first Word,\nbut the great Mischief of all was like to be this, That we should all go\ntogether by the Ears upon the Question who should go in her: My secret\nDesign was laid, that I was resolv'd to go in her myself, and that she\nshould not go without me; but when it began to be talk'd of, I discover'd\nthe greatest seeming Resolution not to stir, but to stay with the rest, and\ntake Care of the main Chance, that was to say, the Money.\nI found, when they saw that I did not propose to go myself, the Men were\nmuch the easier; for at first they began to think it was only a Project of\nmine to run away from them; and so indeed it was: However, as I did not at\nfirst propose to go my self, so when I came to the Proposal of who should\ngo, I made a long Discourse to them of the Obligation they had all to be\nfaithful one to another, and that those who went in the Sloop, ought to\nconsider themselves and those that were with them to be but one Body with\nthose who were left behind; that their whole Concern ought to be to get\nsome good Ship to fetch them off: At last, I concluded, with a Proposal,\nthat who ever went in the Sloop, should leave his Money behind in the\ncommon Keeping, as it was before; to remain as a Pledge for his faithful\nperforming the Voyage, and coming back again to the Company; and should\nfaithfully swear that wherever they went, (for as to the Voyage, they were\nat full Liberty to go whither they would) they would certainly endeavour to\nget back to _Madagascar_; and that if they were cast away, stranded, taken,\nor whatever befel them, they should never rest till they got to\n_Madagascar_, if it was possible.\nThey all came most readily into this Proposal, for those who should go into\nthe Sloop, but with this Alteration in them, (which was easy to be seen in\ntheir Countenances) _viz._ that from that Minute there was no striving who\nshould go, but every Man was willing to stay where they were: This was what\nI wanted, and I let it rest for two or three Days; when I took Occasion to\ntell them, that seeing they all were sensible that it was a very good\nProposal to send the Sloop out to Sea, and see what they could do for us, I\nthought it was strange they should so generally shew themselves backward to\nthe Service for fear of parting from their Money; I told them that no Man\nneed be afraid, that the whole Body should agree to take his Money from him\nwithout any pretended Offence, much less when he should be Abroad for their\nService: But however, as it was my Proposal, and I was always willing to\nhazard myself for the Good of them all, so I was ready to go on the\nConditions I had propos'd to them for others, and I was not afraid to\nflatter myself with serving them so well Abroad, that they should not\ngrudge to restore me my Share of Money when I came Home, and the like of\nall those that went with me.\nThis was so seasonably spoken, and humour'd so well, that it answer'd my\nDesign effectually, and I was voted to go _nemine contradicente_; then I\ndesir'd they would either draw Lots for who and who should go with me, or\nleave it in my absolute Choice to pick and cull my Men: They had for some\nTime agreed to the first; and forty Blanks were made for those to whose Lot\nit should come to draw a Blank to go in the Sloop; but then it was said,\nthis might neither be a fair nor an effectual Choice; for Example, if the\nneedful Number of Officers, and of particular Occupations, should not\nhappen to be lotted out, the Sloop might be oblig'd to go out to Sea\nwithout a Surgeon, or without a Carpenter, or without a Cook, and the like:\nSo, upon second Thoughts, it was left to me to name my Men; so I chose me\nout forty stout Fellows, and among them several who were trusty bold Men,\nfit for any thing.\nBeing thus Mann'd, the Sloop rigg'd, and having clear'd her Bottom, and\nlaid in Provisions enough for a long Voyage, we set Sail the 3d of\n_January_ 1694, for the _Cape of Good Hope_. We very honestly left our\nMoney, as I said, behind us, only that we had about the Value of 2000 Pound\nin Pieces of Eight allow'd us on Board for any Exigence that might happen\nat Sea.\nWe made no Stop at the _Cape_, or at St. _Helena_, tho' we pass'd in Sight\nof it, but stood over to the _Caribbee_ Islands directly, and made the\nIsland of _Tobago_ the 18th of _February_, where we took in fresh Water,\nwhich we stood in great Need of, as you may judge by the Length of the\nVoyage. We sought no Purchase, for I had fully convinc'd our Men, that our\nBusiness was not to appear, as we were used to be, upon the Cruise, but as\nTraders; and to that End I propos'd to go away to the Bay of _Campeachy_,\nand load Logwood, under the Pretence of selling of which we might go any\nwhere.\nIt is true, I had another Design here, which was to recover the Money which\nmy Comrade and I had bury'd there; and having the Man on Board with me to\nwhom I had communicated my Design, we found an Opportunity to come at our\nMoney with Privacy enough, having so conceal'd it, as that it would have\nlain there to the general Conflagration, if we had not come for it our\nselves.\nMy next Resolution was to go for _England_, only that I had too many Men,\nand did not know what to do with them: I told them we could never pretend\nto go with a Sloop loaden with Logwood to any Place, with 40 Men on Board,\nbut we should be discover'd; but if they would resolve to put 15 or 16 Men\non Shore as private Seamen, the rest might do well enough; and if they\nthought it hard to be set on Shore, I was content to be one, only that I\nthought it was very reasonable that whoever went on Shore should have some\nMoney given them, and that all should agree to rendezvous in _England_, and\nso make the best of our Way thither, and there perhaps we might get a good\nShip to go fetch off our Comrades and our Money. With this Resolution,\nsixteen of our Men had three hundred Pieces of Eight a Man given them, and\nthey went off thus; the Sloop stood away North, thro' the Gulph of\n_Florida_, keeping under the Shore of _Carolina_ and _Virginia_; so our Men\ndropp'd off as if they had deserted the Ship; three of the sixteen run away\nthere, five more went off at Virginia, three at _New York_, three at _Road\nIsland_, and myself and one more at _New England_; and so the Sloop went\naway for _England_ with the rest. I got all my Money on Shore with me, and\nconceal'd it as well as I could; some I got Bills for, some I bought\nMolosses with, and turn'd the rest into Gold; and dressing myself not as a\ncommon Sailor, but as a Master of a Ketch, which I had lost in the Bay of\n_Campeachy_, I got Passage on Board one Captain _Guillame_, a _New England_\nCaptain, whose Owner was one Mr. _Johnson_ a Merchant, living at _Hackney_,\nnear _London_.\nBeing at _London_, it was but a very few Months before several of us met\nagain, as I have said we agreed to do. And being true to our first Design\nof going back to our Comrades, we had several close Conferences about the\nManner and Figure in which we should make the Attempt, and we had some very\ngreat Difficulties appear'd in our Way: First, to have fitted up a small\nVessel, it would be of no Service to us, but be the same Thing as the Sloop\nwe came in; and if we pretended to a great Ship, our Money would not hold\nout; so we were quite at a Stand in our Councils what to do, or what Course\nto take, till at length our Money still wasting, we grew less able to\nexecute any Thing we should project.\nThis made us all desperate; when as desperate Distempers call for desperate\nCures, I started a Proposal which pleas'd them all, and this was, that I\nwould endeavour among my Acquaintance, and with what Money I had left,\n(which was still sixteen or seventeen hundred Pound) to get the Command of\na good Ship, bearing a quarter Part, or thereabout, myself; and so having\ngat into the Ship, and got a Freight, the rest of our Gang should all enter\non Board as Seamen, and whatever Voyage we went, or wheresoever we were\nbound, we would run away with the Ship and all the Goods, and so go to our\nFriends as we had promis'd.\nI made several Attempts of this Kind, and once bought a very good Ship,\ncall'd, _The Griffin_, of one _Snelgrove_ a Shipwright, and engag'd the\nPersons concern'd to hold a Share in her and fit her out, on a Voyage for\n_Leghorn_ and _Venice_; when it was very probable the Cargo, to be shipp'd\non Board casually by the Merchant, would be very rich; but Providence, and\nthe good Fortune of the Owner prevented this Bargain, for without any\nObjection against me, or Discovery of my Design in the least, he told me\nafterwards his Wife had an ugly Dream or two about the Ship; once, that it\nwas set on Fire by Lightning, and he had lost all he had in it; another\nTime, that the Men had mutiny'd and conspir'd to kill him; and that his\nWife was so averse to his being concern'd in it, that it had always been an\nunlucky Ship, and that therefore his Mind was chang'd; that he would sell\nthe whole Ship, if I would, but he would not hold any Part of it himself.\nTho' I was very much disappointed at this, yet I put a very good Face upon\nit, and told him, I was very glad to hear him tell me the Particulars of\nhis Dissatisfaction; for if there was any Thing in Dreams, and his Wife's\nDream had any Signification at all, it seem'd to concern me (more than him)\nwho was to go the Voyage, and command the Ship; and whether the Ship was to\nbe burnt, or the Men to mutiny, tho' Part of the Loss might be his, who was\nto stay on Shore, all the Danger was to be mine, who was to be at Sea in\nher; and then, as he had said, she had been an unlucky Ship to him, it was\nvery likely she would be so to me; and therefore I thank'd him for the\nDiscovery, and told him I would not meddle with her.\nThe Man was uneasy, and began to waver in his Resolution, and had it not\nbeen for the continu'd Importunities of his Wife, I believe would have come\non again; for People generally encline to a Thing that is rejected, when\nthey would reject the same Thing when profer'd: But I knew it was not my\nBusiness to let myself be blow'd upon, so I kept to my Resolution, and\nwholly declin'd that Affair, on Pretence of its having got an ill Name for\nan unlucky Ship; and that Name stuck so to her, that the Owners could never\nsell her, and, as I have been inform'd since, were oblig'd to break her up\nat last.\nIt was a great while I spent with hunting after a Ship, but was every Way\ndisappointed, till Money grew short, and the Number of my Men lessen'd\napace, and at last we were reduc'd to seven, when an Opportunity happen'd\nin my Way to go Chief-Mate on Board a stout Ship bound from _London_ to\n[_N. B. In Things so modern, it is no Way convenient to write to you\nparticular Circumstances and Names of Persons, Ships, or Places, because\nthose Things being in themselves criminal, may be call'd up in Question in\na judicial Way; and therefore I warn the Reader to observe, that not only\nall the Names are omitted, but even the Scene of Action in this criminal\nPart, is not laid exactly as Things were acted; least I should give Justice\na Clew to unravel my Story by, which no Body will blame me for avoiding._]\nIt is enough to tell the Reader, that being put out to Sea, and being for\nConveniency of Wind and Weather come to an Anchor on the Coast of _Spain_,\nmy seven Companions having resolv'd upon our Measures, and having brought\nthree more of the Men to confederate with us, we took up Arms in the middle\nof the Night, secur'd the Captain, the Gunner, and the Carpenter, and after\nthat, all the rest of the Men, and declar'd our Intention: The Captain and\nnine Men refus'd to come into our projected Roguery, (for we gave them\ntheir Choice to go with us, or go on Shore) so we put them on Shore very\ncivilly, gave the Master his Books, and every Thing he could carry with\nhim; and all the rest of the Men agreed to go along with us.\nAs I had resolv'd, before I went on Board, upon what I purpos'd to do, so I\nhad laid out all the Money I had left in such Things as I knew I should\nwant, and had caus'd one of my Men to pretend he was going to ------ to\nbuild or buy a Ship there, and that he wanted Freight for a great deal of\nCordage, Anchors, eight Guns, Powder and Ball, with about 20 Tun of Lead\nand other bulky Goods, which were all put on Board as Merchandize.\nWe had not abundance of Bail Goods on Board, which I was glad of; not that\nI made any Conscience or Scruple of carrying them away, if the Ship had\nbeen full of them; but we had no Market for them: Our first Business was to\nget a larger Store of Provision on Board than we had, our Voyage being\nlong; and having acquainted the Men with our Design, and promis'd the new\nMen a Share of the Wealth we had there, which made them very hearty to us,\nwe set Sail: We took in some Beef and Fish, at ------ where we lay fifteen\nDays, but out of all Reach of the Castle or Fort; and having done our\nBusiness, sail'd away for the _Canaries_, where we took in some Butts of\nWine, and some fresh Water: With the Guns the Ship had, and those eight I\nhad put on Board as Merchandize, we had then two and thirty Guns mounted,\nbur were but slenderly Mann'd, tho' we gat four _English_ Seamen at the\n_Canaries_; but we made up the Loss at _Fiall_, where we made bold with\nthree _English_ Ships we found, and partly by fair Means, and partly by\nForce, shipp'd twelve Men there; after which, without any farther Stop for\nMen or Stores, we kept the Coast of _Africa_ on Board 'till we pass'd the\nLine, and then stood off to St. _Helena_.\nHere we took in fresh Water, and some fresh Provisions, and went directly\nfor the _Cape of Good Hope_, which we pass'd, stopping only to fill about\n22 Butts of Water, and with a fair Gale enter'd the Sea of _Madagascar_,\nand sailing up the West Shore, between the Island and the Coast of\n_Africa_, came to an Anchor over against our Settlement, about two Leagues\nDistance, and made the Signal of our Arrival, with firing twice seven Guns\nat the Distance of a Two-Minute Glass between the Seven; when, to our\ninfinite Joy, the Fort answer'd us, and the Long-boat, the same that\nbelong'd to our former Ship, came off to us.\nWe embrac'd one another with inexpressible Joy, and the next Morning I went\non Shore, and our Men brought our Ship safe into Harbour, lying within the\nDefence of our Platform, and within two Cables length of the Shore, good\nsoft Ground, and in eleven Fathom Water, having been three Months and\neighteen Days on the Voyage, and almost three Years absent from the Place.\nWhen I came to look about me here, I found our Men had encreas'd their\nNumber, and that a Vessel which had been cruising, that is to say, Pirating\non the Coast of _Arabia_, having seven _Dutchmen_, three _Portuguese_, and\nfive _Englishmen_ on Board, had been cast away upon the Northern Shore of\nthat Island, and had been taken up and reliev'd by our Men, and liv'd among\nthem. They told us also of another Crew of _European_ Sailors, which lay,\nas we did, on the Main of the Island, and had lost their Ship and were, as\nthe Islanders told them, above a hundred Men, but we heard nothing who they\nwere.\nSome of our Men were dead in the mean Time, I think about three; and the\nfirst Thing I did was to call a Muster, and see how Things stood as to\nMoney: I found the Men had been very true to one another; there lay all the\nMoney, in Chests piled up as I left it, and every Man's Money having his\nName upon it: Then acquainting the rest with the Promise I had made the Men\nthat came with me, they all agreed to it; so the Money belonging to the\ndead Men, and to the rest of the forty Men who belong'd to the Sloop, was\ndivided among the Men I brought with me, as well those who join'd at first,\nas those we took in at the _Cape de Verd_, and the _Canaries_: And the\nBails of Goods which we found in the Ship, many of which were valuable for\nour own Use, we agreed to give them all to the fifteen Men mention'd above,\nwho had been sav'd by our Men, and so to buy what we wanted of those Goods\nof them, which made their Hearts glad also.\nAnd now we began to consult what Course to take in the World: As for going\nto _England_, tho' our Men had a great Mind to be there, yet none of them\nknew how to get thither, notwithstanding I had brought them a Ship; but I,\nwho had now made myself too publick to think any more of _England_, had\ngiven over all Views that Way, and began to cast about for farther\nAdventures; for tho', as I said, we were immensely rich before, yet I\nabhorr'd lying still, and burying my self alive, as I call'd it, among\nSavages and Barbarians; besides, some of our Men were young in the Trade,\nand had seen nothing; and they lay at me every Day not to lie still in a\nPart of the World where, as they said, such vast Riches might be gain'd;\nand that the _Dutchmen_ and _Englishmen_ who were cast away, as above, and\nwho our Men call'd the _Comelings_, were continually buzzing in my Ears\nwhat infinite Wealth was to be got, if I would but make one voyage to the\nCoast of _Malabar_, _Coromandel_, and the Bay of _Bengale_; nay, the three\n_Portuguese_ Seamen offer'd themselves to attack and bring off one of their\nbiggest Galleons, even out of the Road of _Goa_, on the _Malabar_ Coast,\nthe Capital of the _Portuguese_ Factories in the _Indies_.\nIn a Word, I was overcome with these new Proposals, and told the rest of my\nPeople, I was resolv'd to go to Sea again, and try my good Fortune; I was\nsorry I had not another Ship or two, but if ever it lay in my Power to\nmaster a good Ship, I would not fail to bring her to them.\nWhile I was thus fitting out upon this new Undertaking, and the Ship lay\nready to Sail, and all the Men who were design'd for the Voyage, were on\nBoard, being 85 in Number; among which were all the Men I brought with me,\nthe 15 Comelings, and the rest made up out of our old Number; I say, when I\nwas just upon the Point of setting Sail, we were all surpriz'd just in the\nGrey of the Morning to spy a Sail at Sea; we knew not what to make of her,\nbut found she was an _European_ Ship; that she was not a very large Vessel,\nyet that she was a Ship of Force too: She seem'd to shorten Sail, as if she\nlook'd out for some Harbour; at first Sight I thought she was _English_;\nimmediately I resolv'd to slip Anchor and Cable and go out to Sea and speak\nwith her, if I could, let her be what she would: As soon as I was got a\nlittle clear of the Land, I fir'd a Gun, and spread _English_ Colours: She\nimmediately brought too, fir'd three Guns, and mann'd out her Boat with a\nFlag of Truce: I did the like, and the two Boats spoke to one another in\nabout two Hours, when, to our infinite Joy, we found they were our Comrades\nwho we left in the South Seas, and to whom we gave the Fregate at the Isle\nof _Juan Fernando_.\nNothing of this Kind could have happen'd more to our mutual Satisfaction,\nfor tho' we had long ago given them over either for Lost, or Lost to us;\nand we had no great Need of Company, yet we were overjoy'd at meeting, and\nso were they too.\nThey were in some Distress for Provisions, and we had Plenty; so we brought\ntheir Ship in for them, gave them a present Supply, and when we had help'd\nthem to moor and secure the Ship in the Harbour, we made them lock all\ntheir Hatches and Cabins up, and come on Shore, and there we feasted them\nfive or six Days, for we had a Plenty of all Sorts of Provisions, not to be\nexhausted; and if we had wanted an hundred Head of fat Bullocks, we could\nhave had them for asking for of the Natives, who treated us all along with\nall possible Courtesy and Freedom in their Way.\nThe History of the Adventures and Success of these Men, from the Time we\nleft them to the Time of their Arrival at our new Plantation, was our whole\nEntertainment for some Days. I cannot pretend to give the Particulars by my\nMemory; but as they came to us _Thieves_, they improv'd in their Calling to\na great Degree, and, next to ourselves, had the greatest Success of any of\nthe Buccaneers whose Story has ever been made publick.\nI shall not take upon me to vouch the whole Account of their Actions,\nneither will this Letter contain a full History of their Adventures; but if\nthe Account which they gave us was true, you may take it thus:\nFirst, that having met with good Success after they left us, and having\ntaken some extraordinary Purchase, as well in some Vessels they took at\nSea, as in the Plunder of some Towns on the Shore near _Guyaquil_, as I\nhave already told you, they got Information of a large Ship which was\nloading the King's Money at _Puna_, and had Orders to sail with it to\n_Lima_, in order to its being carry'd from thence to _Panama_ by the Fleet,\nunder the Convoy of the _Flotilla_, or Squadron of Men of War, which the\nKing's Governor at _Panama_ had sent to prevent their being insulted by the\nPirates, which they had Intelligence were on the Coast; by which, we\nsuppose, they meant us who were gone, for they could have no Notion of\nthese Men then.\nUpon this Intelligence they cruis'd off and on upon the Coast for near a\nMonth, keeping always to the Southward of _Lima_, because they would not\nfall in the Way of the said _Flotilla_, and so be overpower'd and miss of\ntheir Prize: At last they met with what they look'd for, that is to say,\nthey met with the great Ship abovenam'd: But to their great Misfortune and\nDisappointment, (as they first thought it to be) she had with her a Man of\nWar for her Convoy, and two other Merchant Ships in her Company.\nThe Buccaneers had with them the Sloop which they first sent to us for our\nIntelligence, and which they made a little Fregate of, carrying eight Guns,\nand some Patareroes: They had not long Time to consult, but in short they\nresolv'd to double man the Sloop, and let her attack the great\nMerchant-Ship, while the Fregate, which was the whole of their Fleet, held\nthe Man of War in Play, or at least kept him from assisting her.\nAccording to this Resolution, they put 50 Men on Board the Sloop, which\nwas, in short, almost as many as would stand upon her Deck one by another;\nand with this Force they attack'd the great Merchant-Ship, which, besides\nits being well mann'd, had 16 good Guns, and about 30 Men on Board. While\nthe Sloop thus began the unequal Fight, the Man of War bore down upon her\nto succour the Ship under her Convoy, but the Fregate thrusting in between,\nengag'd the Man of War, and began a very warm Fight with her, for the Man\nof War had both more Guns and more Men than the Fregate after she had\nparted with 50 Men on Board the Sloop: While the two Men of War, as we may\nnow call them, were thus engag'd, the Sloop was in great Danger of being\nworsted by the Merchant-Ship, for the Force was too much for her, the Ship\nwas great, and her Men fought a desperate and close Fight: Twice the\nSloop-Men enter'd her, and were beaten off, and about nine of their Men\nkill'd, several other wounded, and an unlucky Shot taking the Sloop between\nWind and Water, she was oblig'd to fall a-Stern, and heel her over to stop\nthe Leek; during which the _Spaniards_ steer'd away to assist the Man of\nWar, and pour'd her Broadside in upon the Fregate, which tho' but small,\nyet at a Time when she lay Yard-arm and Yard-arm close by the Side of the\n_Spanish_ Man of War, was a great Extremity; however, the Fregate return'd\nher Broadside, and therewith made her sheer off, and, which was worse, shot\nher Main-mast thro', tho' it did not come presently by the Board.\nDuring this Time, the Sloop having many Hands, had stopp'd the Leak, was\nbrought to rights again, and came up again to the Engagement, and at the\nfirst Broadside had the good Luck to bring the Ship's Foremast by the\nBoard, and thereby disabled her; but could not for all that lay her\nathwart, or carry her by Boarding, so that the Case began to be very\ndoubtful; at which, the Captain of the Sloop, finding the Merchant Ship was\ndisabled, and could not get away from them, resolv'd to leave her a while\nand assist the Fregate; which he did, and running a Longside our Fregate,\nhe fairly laid the Man of War on Board just thwart his Hawser; and besides\nfiring into her with his great Shot, he very fairly set her on Fire; and it\nwas a great Chance but that they had been all three burnt together, but our\nMen helpt the _Spaniards_ themselves to put out the Fire, and after some\nTime master'd it: But the _Spaniards_ were in such a terrible Fright at the\nApprehension of the Fire, that they made little Resistance afterwards, and\nin short, in about an Hour's Fight more, the _Spanish_ Man of War struck,\nand was taken; and after that the Merchant Ship also, with all the Wealth\nthat was in her: And thus their Victory was as compleat as it was\nunexpected.\nThe Captain of the _Spanish_ Man of War was kill'd in the Fight, and about\n36 of his Men, and most of the rest wounded, which it seems happen'd upon\nthe Sloop's lying athwart her. This Man of War was a new Ship, and with\nsome Alteration in her upper Work, made a very good Fregate for them, and\nthey afterwards quitted their own Ship, and went all on Board the _Spanish_\nShip, taking out the Main-mast of their own Ship, and making a new\nFore-mast for the _Spanish_ Ship, because her Fore-mast was also weaken'd\nwith some Shot in her; this, however, cost them a great deal of Labour and\nDifficulty, and also some Time, when they came to a certain Creek, where\nthey all went on Shore, and refresh'd themselves a while.\nBut if the taking the Man of War was an unexpected Victory to them, the\nWealth of the Prize was much more so; for they found an amazing Treasure on\nBoard her, both in Silver and Gold; and the Account they gave me was but\nimperfect, but I think they calculated the Pieces of Eight to be about 13\nTun in Weight, besides that they had 5 small Chests of Gold, some Emeralds,\nand, in a Word, a prodigious Booty.\nThey were not, however, so modest in their Prosperity as we were; for they\nnever knew when to have done, but they must Cruise again to the Northward\nfor more Booty, when to their great Surprize, they fell in with the\nFlotilla or Squadron of Men of War, which they had so studiously avoided\nbefore, and were so surrounded by them, that there was no Remedy but they\nmust fight, and that in a Kind of Desperation, having no Prospect now but\nto sell their Lives as dear as they could.\nThis unlucky Accident befel them before they had chang'd their ship, so\nthat they had now the Sloop and both the Men of War in Company, but they\nwere but thinly mann'd; and as for the Booty, the greater Part of it was on\nBoard the Sloop, that is to say, all the Gold and Emeralds, and near half\nthe Silver.\nWhen they saw the Necessity of fighting, they order'd the Sloop, if\npossible, to keep to Windward, that so she might as Night come on, make the\nbest of her Way, and escape; but a _Spanish_ Fregate of 18 Guns tended her\nso close, and sail'd so well, that the Sloop could by no Means get away\nfrom the rest; so she made up close to the Buccaneers Fregate, and\nmaintain'd a Fight as well as she could, till in the Dusk of the Evening\nthe _Spaniards_ boarded and took her, but most of her Men gat away in her\nBoat, and some by swimming on Board the other Ship: They only left in her\nfive wounded _Englishmen_, and six _Spanish_ Negroes. The five _English_\nthe barbarous _Spaniards_ hang'd up immediately, wounded as they were.\nThis was good Notice to the other Men to tell them what they were to\nexpect, and made them fight like desperate Men till Night, and kill'd the\n_Spaniards_ a great many Men. It prov'd a very dark rainy Night, so that\nthe _Spaniards_ were oblig'd by Necessity to give over the Fight till the\nnext Day, endeavouring, in the mean time, to keep as near them as they\ncould: But the Buccaneers concerting their Measures where they should meet,\nresolv'd to make Use of the Darkness of the Night to get off if they could;\nand the Wind springing up a fresh Gale at S. S. W. they chang'd their\nCourse, and, with all the Sail they could make, stood away to the N. N. W.\nslanting it to Seawards as nigh the Wind as they could; and getting clear\naway from the _Spaniards_, who they never saw more, they made no Stay till\nthey pass'd the Line, and arriv'd in about 22 Days Sail on the Coast of\n_California_, where they were quite out of the Way of all Enquiry and\nSearch of the _Spaniards_.\nHere it was they chang'd their Ship, as I said, and quitting their own\nVessel, they went all on Board the _Spanish_ Man of War, fitting up her\nMasts and Rigging, as I have said, and taking out all the Guns, Stores,\n_&c._ of their own Ship, so that they had now a stout Ship under them,\ncarrying 40 Guns, (for so many they made her carry) and well furnish'd with\nall Things; and tho' they had lost so great a Part of their Booty, yet they\nhad still left a vast Wealth, being six or seven Tun of Silver, besides\nwhat they had gotten before.\nWith this Booty, and regretting heartily they had not practis'd the same\nModeration before, they resolv'd now to be satisfy'd, and make the best of\ntheir Way to the Island of _Juan Fernando_; where keeping at a great\nDistance from the Shore, they safely arriv'd, in about two Months Voyage,\nhaving met with some contrary Winds by the Way.\nHowever, here they found the other Sloop which they had sent in with their\nfirst Booty, to wait for them: And here understanding that we were gone for\nSt. _Julien_, they resolv'd, (since the Time was so long gone that they\ncould not expect to find us again) that they would have t'other Touch with\nthe _Spaniards_, cost what it would. And accordingly, having first bury'd\nthe most Part of their Money in the Ground, on Shore in the Island, and\nhaving revictual'd their Ship in the best Manner they could in that barren\nIsland, away they went to Sea.\nThey beat about on the South of the Line all up the Coast of _Chili_, and\nPart of _Peru_, till they came to the Height of _Lima_ itself.\nThey met with several Ships, and took several, but they were loaden chiefly\nwith Lumber or Provisions, except that in one Vessel they took between 40\nand 50000 Pieces of Eight, and in another 75000. They soon inform'd\nthemselves that the _Spanish_ Men of War were gone out of those Seas up to\n_Panama_, to boast of their good Fortune, and carry Home their Prize; and\nthis made them the bolder. But tho' they spent near five Months in this\nsecond Cruise, they met with nothing considerable; the _Spaniards_ being\nevery where alarm'd, and having Notice of them, so that nothing stirr'd\nAbroad.\nTir'd then with their long Cruise, and out of Hope of more Booty, they\nbegan to look Homeward, and to say to one another that they had enough; so,\nin a Word, they came back to _Juan Fernando_, and there furnishing\nthemselves as well as they could with Provisions, and not forgeting to take\ntheir Treasure on Board with them, they set forward again to the South; and\nafter a very bad Voyage in rounding the _Terra del Fuego_, being driven to\nthe Latitude of 65 Degrees, where they felt Extremity of Cold, they at\nlength obtain'd a more favourable Wind, _viz._ at S. and S. S. E; with\nwhich, steering to the North, they came into a milder Sea and a milder\nCoast, and at length arriv'd at _Port St. Julien_, where, to their great\nJoy, they found the Post or Cross erected by us; and understanding that we\nwere gone to _Madagascar_, and that we would be sure to remain there to\nhear from them, and withal that we had been gone there near two Year, they\nresolv'd to follow us.\nHere they staid, it seems, almost half a Year, partly fitting and altering\ntheir Ship, partly wearing out the Winter Season, and waiting for milder\nWeather; and having victuall'd their Ship in but a very ordinary Manner for\nso long a Run, _viz._ only with Seals Flesh and Penguins, and some Deer\nthey kill'd in the Country, they at last launch'd out, and crossing the\ngreat _Atlantick Ocean_, they made the _Cape of Good Hope_ in about 76\nDays, having been put to very great Distresses in that Time for Want of\nFood, all their Seals Flesh and Penguins growing nauseous and stinking in\nlittle less than half the Time of their Voyage; so that they had nothing to\nsubsist on for seven and twenty Days, but a little Quantity of dry'd\nVenison which they kill'd on Shore, about the Quantity of 3 Barrels of\n_English_ Beef, and some Bread; and when they came to the _Cape of Good\nHope_, they gat some small Supply, but it being soon perceiv'd on Shore\nwhat they were, they were glad to be gone as soon as they had fill'd their\nCasks with Water, and gat but a very little Provisions; so they made to the\nCoast of _Natal_ on the South East Point of _Africa_, and there they gat\nmore fresh Provisions, such as Veal, Milk, Goats-Flesh, some tolerable\nButter, and very good Beef: And this held them out till they found us in\nthe North Part of _Madagascar_, as above.\nWe staid about a Fortnight in our Port, and in a sailing Posture, just as\nif we had been Wind-bound, meerly to congratulate and make merry with our\nnew-come Friends, when I resolv'd to leave them there, and set Sail; which\nI did with a Westerly Wind, keeping away North till I came into the\nLatitude of seven Degrees North; so coasting along the _Arabian_ Coast E.\nN. E. towards the Gulph of Persia, in the Cruise I met with two _Persian_\nBarks loaden with Rice; one of which I mann'd and sent away to\n_Madagascar_, and the other I took for our own Ship's Use. This Bark came\nsafe to my new Colony, and was a very agreeable Prize to them; I think\nverily almost as agreeable as if it had been loaded with Pieces of Eight,\nfor they had been without Bread a great while; and this was a double\nBenefit to them, for they fitted up this Bark, which carry'd about 55 Tun,\nand went away to the Gulph of _Persia_ in her to buy Rice, and brought two\nor three _Freights_ of that which was very good.\nIn this Time I pursu'd my Voyage, coasted the whole _Malabar_ Shore, and\nmet with no Purchase but a great _Portugal East-India_ Ship, which I chac'd\ninto _Goa_, where she got out of my Reach: I took several small Vessels and\nBarks, but little of Value in them, till I enter'd the great Bay of\n_Bengale_, when I began to look about me with more Expectation of Success,\ntho' without Prospect of what happen'd.\nI cruis'd here about two Months, finding nothing worth while; so I stood\naway to a Port on the North Point of the Isle of _Sumatra_, where I made no\nStay; for here I gat News that two large Ships, belonging to the Great\nMogul, were expected to cross the Bay from _Hugely_ in the _Ganges_ to the\nCountry of the King of _Pegu_, being to carry the Grandaughter of the Great\nMogul to _Pegu_, who was to be marry'd to the King of that Country, with\nall her Retinue, Jewels, and Wealth.\nThis was a Booty worth watching for, tho' it had been some Months longer;\nso I refolv'd that we would go and Cruise off of Point _Negaris_, on the\nEast Side of the Bay, near _Diamond Isle_; and here we ply'd off and on for\nthree Weeks, and began to despair of Success; but the Knowledge of the\nBooty we expected spurr'd us on, and we waited with great Patience, for we\nknew the Prize would be immensely rich.\nAt length we spy'd three Ships coming right up to us with the Wind; we\ncould easily see they were not _Europeans_ by their Sails, and began to\nprepare ourselves for a Prize, not for a Fight; but were a little\ndisappointed, when we found the first Ship full of Guns, and full of\nSoldiers, and in Condition, had she been manag'd by _English_ Sailors, to\nhave fought two such Ships as ours were; however, we resolv'd to attack her\nif she had been full of Devils as she was full of Men.\nAccordingly, when we came near them, we fir'd a Gun with Shot as a\nChallenge; they fir'd again immediately three or four Guns; but fir'd them\nso confusedly that we could easily see they did not understand their\nBusiness; when we consider'd how to lay them on Board, and so to come\nthwart them, if we could; but falling, for want of Wind, open to them, we\ngave them a fair Broadside; we could easily see, by the Confusion that was\non Board, that they were frighted out of their Wits; they fir'd here a Gun\nand there a Gun, and some on that Side that was from us, as well as those\nthat were next to us. The next Thing we did was to lay them on Board, which\nwe did presently, and then gave them a Volley of our Small-shot, which, as\nthey stood so thick, kill'd a great many of them, and made all the rest run\ndown under their Hatches, crying out like Creatures bewitch'd: In a Word,\nwe presently took the Ship, and having secur'd her Men, we chac'd the other\ntwo: One was chiefly fill'd with Women, and the other with Lumber. Upon the\nWhole, as the Grandaughter of the Great Mogul was our Prize in the first\nShip, so, in the second was her Women, or, in a Word, her Houshold, her\nEunuchs, all the Necessaries of her Wardrobe, of her Stables, and of her\nKitchin; and in the last, great Quantities of Houshold-stuff, and Things\nless costly, tho' not less useful.\nBut the first was the main Prize. When my Men had enter'd and master'd the\nShip, one of our Lieutenants call'd for me, and accordingly I jump'd on\nBoard; he told me, he thought no Body but I ought to go into the great\nCabin, or, at least, no Body should go there before me; for that the Lady\nherself and all her Attendance was there, and he fear'd the Men were so\nheated they would murder them all, or do worse.\nI immediately went to the great Cabin-door, taking the Lieutenant that\ncall'd me, along with me, and caus'd the Cabin-door to be open'd: But such\na Sight of Glory and Misery was never seen by Buccaneer before; the Queen\n(for such she was to have been) was all in Gold and Silver, but frighted;\nand crying, and at the Sight of me she appear'd trembling, and just as if\nshe was going to die. She sate on the Side of a kind of a Bed like a Couch\nwith no Canopy over it, or any Covering, only made to lie down upon; she\nwas, in a Manner, cover'd with Diamonds, and I, like a true Pirate, soon\nlet her see that I had more Mind to the Jewels than to the Lady.\nHowever, before I touch'd her, I order'd the Lieutenant to place a Guard at\nthe Cabin-door; and fastening the Door, shut us both in, which he did: The\nLady was young, and, I suppose, in their Country Esteem, very handsome, but\nshe was not very much so in my Thoughts: At first, her Fright, and the\nDanger she thought she was in of being kill'd, taught her to do every Thing\nthat she thought might interpose between her and Danger; and that was to\ntake off her Jewels as fast as she could, and give them to me; and I,\nwithout any great Compliment, took them as fast as she gave them me, and\nput them into my Pocket, taking no great Notice of them, or of her, which\nfrighted her worse than all the rest, and she said something which I could\nnot understand; however, two of the other Ladies came, all crying, and\nkneel'd down to me with their Hands lifted up: What they meant I knew not\nat first, but by their Gestures and Pointings I found at last it was to beg\nthe young Queen's Life, and that I would not kill her.\nI have heard that it has been reported in _England_ that I ravish'd this\nLady, and then used her most barbarously; but they wrong me, for I never\noffer'd any Thing of that Kind to her, I assure you; nay, I was so far from\nbeing inclin'd to it, that I did not like her; and there was one of her\nLadies who I found much more agreeable to me, and who I was afterwards\nsomething free with, but not even with her either by Force, or by Way of\nRavishing.\nWe did, indeed, ravish them of all their Wealth, for that was what we\nwanted, not the Women; nor was there any other Ravishing among those in the\ngreat Cabin, that I can assure you: As for the Ship where the Women of\ninferior Rank were, and who were in Number almost two hundred, I cannot\nanswer for what might happen in the first Heat; but even there, after the\nfirst Heat of our Men was over, what was done, was done quietly, for I have\nheard some of the Men say, that there was not a Woman among them but what\nwas lain with four or five Times over, that is to say, by so many several\nMen; for as the Women made no Opposition, so the Men even took those that\nwere next them, without Ceremony, when and where Opportunity offer'd.\nWhen the three Ladies kneel'd down to me, and as soon as I understood what\nit was for, I let them know I would not hurt the Queen, nor let any one\nelse hurt her, but that she must give me all her Jewels and Money: Upon\nthis they acquainted her that I would save her Life; and no sooner had they\nassur'd her of that, but she got up, smiling, and went to a fine _Indian_\nCabinet, and open'd a private Drawer, from whence she took another little\nThing full of little square Drawers and Holes; this she brings to me in her\nHand, and offer'd to kneel down to give it me. This innocent Usage began to\nrouse some Good-Nature in me, (tho' I never had much) and I would not let\nher kneel; but sitting down myself on the Side of her Couch or Bed, made a\nMotion to her to sit down too: But here she was frighted again, it seems,\nat what I had no Thought of; for sitting on her Bed, she thought I would\npull her down to lie with her, and so did all her Women too; for they began\nto hold their Hands before their Faces, which, as I understood afterwards,\nwas that they might not see me turn up their Queen: But as I did not offer\nany Thing of that Kind, only made her sit down by me, they began all to be\neasier after some Time, and she gave me the little Box or Casket, I know\nnot what to call it, but it was full of invaluable Jewels. I have them\nstill in my Keeping, and wish they were safe in _England_; for I doubt not\nbut some of them are fit to be plac'd on the King's Crown.\nBeing Master of this Treasure, I was very willing to be good-humour'd to\nthe Persons; so I went out of the Cabin, and caus'd the Women to be left\nalone, causing the Guard to be kept still, that they might receive no more\nInjury than I would do them myself.\nAfter I had been out of the Cabin some Time, a Slave of the Womens came to\nme, and made Sign to me that the Queen would speak with me again. I made\nSigns back, that I would come and dine with her Majesty: And accordingly I\norder'd that her Servants should prepare her Dinner, and carry it in, and\nthen call me. They provided her Repast after the usual Manner, and when she\nsaw it brought in, she appear'd pleas'd, and more, when she saw me come in\nafter it; for she was exceedingly pleas'd that I had caus'd a Guard to keep\nthe rest of my Men from her; and she had, it seems, been told how rude they\nhad been to some of the Women that belong'd to her.\nWhen I came in, she rose up, and paid me such Respect as I did not well\nknow how to receive, and not in the least how to return. If she had\nunderstood _English_, I could have said plainly, and in good rough Words,\nMadam, be easy, we are rude rough-hewn Fellows, but none of our Men should\nhurt you, or touch you; I will be your Guard and Protection; we are for\nMoney, indeed and we shall take what you have, but we will do you no other\nHarm. But as I could not talk thus to her, I scarce knew what to say; but I\nsate down, and made Signs to have her sit down and eat, which she did, but\nwith so much Ceremony, that I did not know well what to do with it.\nAfter we had eaten, she rose up again, and drinking some Water out of a\n_China_ Cup, sate her down on the Side of the Couch, as before: When she\nsaw I had done eating, she went then to another Cabinet, and pulling out a\nDrawer, she brought it to me; it was full of small Pieces of Gold Coin of\n_Pegu_, about as big as an _English_ Half Guinea, and I think there were\nthree thousand of them. She open'd several other Drawers, and shew'd me the\nWealth that was in them and then gave me the Key of the Whole.\nWe had revell'd thus all Day, and Part of the next Day, in a bottomless Sea\nof Riches, when my Lieutenant began to tell me, we must consider what to do\nwith our Prisoners, and the Ships, for that there was no subsisting in that\nManner; besides, he hinted privately, that the Men would be ruin'd, by\nlying with the Women in the other Ship, where all Sorts of Liberty was both\ngiven and taken: Upon this we call'd a short Council, and concluded to\ncarry the great Ship away with us, but to put all the Prisoners, Queen,\nLadies, and all the rest, into the lesser Vessels, and let them go: And so\nfar was I from ravishing this Lady, as I hear is reported of me, that tho'\nI might rifle her of every Thing else, yet I assure you I let her go\nuntouch'd for me, or, as I am satisfy'd, for any one, of my Men; nay, when\nwe dismiss'd them, we gave her Leave to take a great many Things of Value\nwith her, which she would have been plunder'd of, if I had not been so\ncareful of her.\nWe had now Wealth enough, not only to make us rich, but almost to have made\na Nation rich; and to tell you the Truth, considering the costly Things we\ntook here, which we did not know the Value of, and besides Gold, and\nSilver, and Jewels, I say, we never knew how rich we were; besides which,\nwe had a great Quantity of Bales of Goods, as well Calicoes as wrought\nSilks; which being for Sale, were, perhaps, as a Cargo of Goods to answer\nthe Bills which might be drawn upon them for the Account of the Bride's\nPortion; all which fell into our Hands, with a great Sum in Silver Coin,\ntoo big to talk of among _Englishmen_, especially while I am living, for\nReasons which I may give you hereafter.\nI had nothing to do now but to think of coming back to _Madagascar_, so we\nmade the best of our Way; only that, to make us quite distracted without\nother Joy, we took in our Way a small Bark loaden with Arack and Rice,\nwhich was good Sawce to our other Purchace; for if the Women made our Men\ndrunk before, this _Arack_ made them quite mad; and they had so little\nGovernment of themselves with it, that I think it might be said, the whole\nShip's Crew was drunk for above a Fortnight together, till six or seven of\nthem kill'd themselves; two fell overboard and were drown'd, and several\nmore fell into raging Fevers, and it was a Wonder, in the whole, they were\nnot all kill'd with it.\nBut, to make short of the Story as we did of the Voyage, we had a very\npleasant Voyage, except those Disasters, and we came safe back to our\nComrades at _Madagascar_, having been absent in all about seven Months.\nWe found them in very good Health, and longing to hear from us; and we\nwere, you may be assur'd, welcome to them; for now we had amass'd such a\nTreasure as no Society of Men ever possess'd in this World before us,\nneither could we ever bring it to an Estimation, for we could not bring\nparticular Things to a just Valuation.\nWe liv'd now and enjoy'd ourselves in full Security; for tho' some of the\n_European_ Nations, and perhaps all of them had heard of us; yet they heard\nsuch formidable Things of us, such terrible Stories of our great Strength,\nas well as of our great Wealth, that they had no Thought of undertaking any\nThing against us; for, as I have understood, they were told at _London_,\nthat we were no less than 5000 Men; that we had built a regular Fortress\nfor our Defence by Land, and that we had 20 Sail of Ships; and I have been\ntold that in _France_ they have heard the same Thing: But nothing of all\nthis was ever true, any more than it was true, that we offer'd ten Millions\nto the Government of _England_ for our Pardon.\nIt is true, that had the Queen sent any Intimation to us of a Pardon, and\nthat we should have been receiv'd to Grace at Home, we should all have very\nwillingly embrac'd it; for we had Money enough to have encourag'd us all to\nlive honest; and if we had been ask'd for a Million of Pieces of Eight, or\na Million of Pounds Sterling, to have purchas'd our Pardon, we should have\nbeen very ready to have comply'd with it; for we really knew not what to do\nwith ourselves, or with our Wealth; and the only Thing we had now before\nus, was to consider what Method to take for getting Home, if possible, to\nour own Country with our Wealth, or at least with such Part of it as would\nsecure us easy and comfortable Lives; and, for my own Part, I resolv'd, if\nI could, to make full Satisfaction to all the Persons who I had wrong'd in\n_England_, I mean by that, such People as I had injur'd by running away\nwith the Ship; as well the Owners, and the Master or Captain, who I set\na-shore in _Spain_, as the Merchant whose Goods I had taken with the Ship;\nand I was daily forming Schemes in my Thoughts how to bring this to pass:\nBut we all concluded that it was impossible for us to accomplish our\nDesires as to that Part, seeing the Fact of our Piracy was now so publick\nall over the World, that there was not any Nation in the World that would\nreceive us, or any of us; but would immediately seize on our Wealth, and\nexecute us for Pirates and Robbers of all Nations.\nThis was confirm'd to us after some Time, with all the Particulars, as it\nis now understood in _Europe_; for as the Fame of our Wealth and Power was\nsuch, that it made all the World afraid of us, so it brought some of the\nlike Sort with our selves to join with us from all Parts of the World; and\nparticularly, we had a Bark, and 60 Men of all Nations, from _Martinico_,\nwho had been cruising in the Gulph of _Florida_, came over to us, to try if\nthey could mend their Fortunes; and these went afterwards to the Gulph of\n_Persia_, where they took some Prizes, and return'd to us again. We had\nafter this three Pirate Ships came to us, most _English_, who had done some\nExploits on the Coast of _Guinea_, had made several good Prizes, and were\nall tolerably rich.\nAs these People came and shelter'd with us, so they came and went as they\nwould, and sometimes some of our Men went with them, sometimes theirs staid\nwith us: But by that Coming and Going our Men found Ways and Means to\nconvey themselves away, some one Way, some another. For I should have told\nyou at first, that after we had such Intelligence from _England_, _viz._\nthat they knew of all our successful Enterprizes, and that there was no\nHopes of our returning, especially of mine and some other Men who were\nknown: I say, after this we call'd a general Council to consider what to\ndo; and there, one and all, we concluded that we liv'd very happy where we\nwere; that if any of us had a Mind to venture to get away to any Part of\nthe World, none should hinder them, but that else we would continue where\nwe were; and that the first Opportunity we had we would cruise upon the\n_English_ _East India_ Ships, and do them what Spoil we could, fancying\nthat some Time or other they would proclaim a Pardon to us, if we would\ncome in; and if they did, then we would accept of it.\nUnder these Circumstances we remain'd here, off and on, first and last,\nabove three Year more; during which Time our Number encreas'd so,\nespecially at first, that we were once eight hundred Men, stout brave\nFellows, and as good Sailors as any in the World. Our Number decreas'd\nafterwards upon several Occasions; such as the going Abroad to Cruise,\nwandering to the South Part of the Island, (as above) getting on Board\n_European_ Ships, and the like.\nAfter I perceiv'd that a great many of our Men were gone off, and had\ncarry'd their Wealth with them, I began to cast about in my own Thoughts\nhow I should make my Way Home also: Innumerable Difficulties presented to\nmy View; when at last, an Account of some of our Mens Escape into _Persia_\nencourag'd me. The Story was this: One of the small Barks we had taken,\nwent to _Guzaratte_ to get Rice, and having secur'd a Cargo, but not loaded\nit, ten of our Men resolv'd to attempt their Escape; and accordingly they\ndrest themselves like Merchant-Strangers, and bought several Sorts of Goods\nthere, such as an _Englishman_, who they found there, assisted them to buy;\nand with their Bales, (but in them pack'd up all the rest of their Money)\nthey went up to _Bassora_ in the Gulph of _Persia_, and so travell'd as\nMerchants with the Caravan to _Aleppo_, and we never heard any more of\nthem, but that they went clean off with all their Cargo.\nThis fill'd my Head with Schemes for my own Deliverance; but however, it\nwas a Year more before I attempted any Thing, and not till I found that\nmany of our Men shifted off, some and some, nor did any of them miscarry;\nsome went one Way, some another; some lost their Money, and some sav'd it;\nnay, some carry'd it away with them, and some left it behind them: As for\nme, I discover'd my Intentions to no Body, but made them all believe I\nwould stay here till some of them should come and fetch me off, and\npretended to make every Man that went off promise to come for me, if it\never was in his Power, and gave every one of them Signals to make for me,\nwhen they came back, upon which I would certainly come off to them. At the\nsame Time nothing was more certain, than that I intended from the Beginning\nto get away from the Island, as soon as I could any Way make my Way with\nSafety to any Part of the World.\nIt was still above two Years after this that I remain'd in the Island; nor\ncould I, in all that Time, find any probable Means for removing my self\nwith Safety.\nOne of the Ways I thought to have made my Escape was this: I went to Sea in\na Long-boat a fishing, (as we often did) and having a Sail to the Boat, we\nwere out two or three Days together; at length it came into my Thoughts\nthat we might Cruise about the Island in this Long-boat, a great Way, and\nperhaps some Adventure might happen to us which we might make something of;\nso I told them I had a Mind to make a Voyage with the Long-boat to see what\nwould happen.\nTo this Purpose we built upon her, made a State-Room in the Middle, and\nclapt four Patareroes upon her Gunnel, and away we went, being sixteen\nstout Fellows in the Boat, not reckoning my self: Thus we ran away, as it\nwere, from the rest of our Crew, tho' not a Man of us knew our own Minds as\nto whither we were going, or upon what Design. In this Frolick we ran South\nquite away to the Bay of St. _Angustine_'s, in the Latitude of 24 Degrees,\nwhere the Ships from _Europe_ often put in for Water and Provisions.\nHere we put in, not knowing well what to do next; I thought myself\ndisappointed very much that we saw no _European_ Ship here, tho' afterwards\nI saw my Mistake, and found that it was better for us that we were in that\nPort first: We went boldly on Shore; for as to the Natives, we understood\nhow to manage them well enough, knew all their Customs, and the Manner of\ntheir treating with Strangers as to Peace or War; their Temper, and how to\noblige them, or behave if they were disoblig'd; so we went, I say, boldly\non Shore, and there we began to chaffer with them for some Provisions, such\nas we wanted.\nWe had not been here above two or three Days, but that, early in the\nMorning, the Weather thick and haizy, we heard several Guns fire at Sea; we\nwere not at a Loss to know what they meant, and that it was certainly some\n_European_ Ships coming in, and who gave the Signal to one another that\nthey had made the Land, which they could easily see from the Sea, tho' we,\nwho were also within the Bay, could not see them from the Shore: However,\nin a few Hours, the Weather clearing up, wet saw plainly five large Ships,\nthree with _English_ Colours, and two with _Dutch_, standing into the Bay,\nand in about four or five Hours more they came to an Anchor.\nA little while after they were come to an Anchor, their Boats began to come\non Shore to the usual Watering-place to fill their Casks; and while they\nwere doing that, the rest of the Men look'd about them a little, as usual,\ntho' at first they did not stir very far from their Boats.\nI had now a nice Game to play, as any Man in the World ever had: It was\nabsolutely necessary for us to speak with these Men; and yet how to speak\nwith them, and not have them speak with us in a Manner that we should not\nlike, that was the main Point: It was with a great deal of Impatience that\nwe lay still one whole Day, and saw their Boats come on Shore, and go on\nBoard again, and we were so irresolute all the while, that we knew not what\nto do; at last I told my Men, it was absolutely necessary we should speak\nwith them, and seeing we could not agree upon the Method how to do it\nfriendly and fairly, I was resolv'd to do it by Force, and that if they\nwould take my Advice, we would place ourselves in Ambuscade upon the Land\nsomewhere, that we might see them when they were on Shore, and the first\nMan that straggled from the rest we would clap in upon and seize him, and\nthree or four of them if we could. As for our Boat, we had secur'd it in a\nCreek three or four Miles up the Country, where it was secure enough out of\ntheir Reach or Knowledge.\nWith this Resolution we plac'd ourselves in two Gangs; eleven of us in one\nPlace, and only three of us in another, and very close we lay: The Place we\nchose for our Ambuscade was on the Side of a rising Ground almost a Mile\nfrom the Watering-place, but where we could see them all come towards the\nShore, and see them if they did but set their Foot on Shore.\nAs we understood afterwards, they had the Knowledge of our being upon the\nIsland, but knew not in what Part of it, and were therefore very cautious\nand wary how they went on Shore, and came all very well arm'd. This gave us\na new Difficulty, for in the very first Excursion that any of them made\nfrom the Watering-place, there was not less than twenty of them, all well\narm'd, and they pass'd by in our Sight; but as we were out of their Sight\nwe were all very well pleas'd with seeing them go by, and being not oblig'd\nto meddle with them, or show our selves.\nBut we had not long lain in this Circumstance, but, by what Occasion we\nknew not, five of the Gentlemen Tarrs were pleas'd to be willing to go no\nfarther with their Companions; and thinking all safe behind them, because\nthey had found no Disturbance in their going out, came back the same Way,\nstraggling without any Guard or Regard.\nI thought now was our Time to show our selves; so taking them as they came\nby the Place where we lay in Ambuscade, we plac'd ourselves just in their\nWay, and as they were entring a little Thicket of Trees, we appear'd; and\ncalling to them in _English_, told them they were our Prisoners; that if\nthey yielded, we would use them very well, but if they offer'd to resist,\nthey should have no Quarter: One of them looking behind, as if he would\nshow us a Pair of Heels, I call'd to him, and told him, if he attempted to\nrun for it, he was a dead Man, unless he could out-run a Musquet-Bullet;\nand that we would soon let him see we had more Men in our Company; and so\ngiving the Signal appointed, our three Men, who lay at a Distance, shew'd\nthemselves in the Rear.\nWhen they saw this, one of them, who appear'd as their Leader, but was only\nthe Purser's Clerk, ask'd, Who we were they must yield to? And if we were\nChristians? I told them, jestingly, We were good honest Christian Pirates,\nand belong'd to Captain _Avery_, (not at all letting them know that I was\n_Avery_ himself) and if they yielded it was enough; that we assur'd them\nthey should have fair Quarter and good Usage upon our Honour; but that they\nmust resolve immediately, or else they would be surrounded with 500 Men,\nand we could not answer for what they might do to them.\nThey yielded presently upon this News, and deliver'd their Arms; and we\ncarry'd them away to our Tent, which we had built near the Place where our\nBoat lay. Here I enter'd into a particular serious Discourse with them\nabout Captain _Avery_, for 'twas this I wanted, upon several Accounts:\nFirst, I wanted to enquire what News they had had of us in _Europe_? and\nthen to give them Ideas of our Numbers and Power as romantick as I could.\nThey told us, that they had heard of the great Booty Captain _Avery_ had\ntaken in the Bay of _Bengale_; and among the rest, a bloody Story was\nrelated of _Avery_ himself, _viz._ That he ravish'd the Great Mogul's\nDaughter, who was going to be marry'd to the Prince of _Pegu_; that we\nravish'd and forc'd all the Ladies attending her Train, and then threw them\ninto the Sea, or cut their Throats; and that we had gotten a Booty of ten\nMillions in Gold and Silver, besides an inestimable Treasure of Jewels,\nDiamonds, Pearls, _&c._ but that we had committed most inhuman Barbarities\non the innocent People that fell into our Hands. They then told us, but in\na broken imperfect Account, how the Great Mogul had resented it; and that\nhe had raised a great Army against the _English_ Factories, resolving to\nroot them out of his Dominions; but that the Company had appeas'd him by\nPresents, and by assuring him that the Men who did it, were Rebels to the\n_English_ Government, and that the Queen of _England_ would hang them all\nwhen ever they could be taken. I smil'd at that, and told them, Captain\n_Avery_ would give them Leave to hang him, and all his Men, when they could\ntake them; but that I could assure him they were too strong to be taken;\nthat if the Government of _England_ went about to provoke them, Captain\n_Avery_ would soon make those Seas too hot for the _English_, and they\nmight even give over their _East-India_ Trade, for they little thought\nCircumstances Captain _Avery_ was in.\nThis I did, as well to know what Notions you had of us in _England_, as to\ngive a formidable Account of us, and of our Circumstances to _England_,\nwhich I knew might be of Use to us several Ways hereafter. Then I made him\ntell his Part, which he did freely enough; he told us, that indeed they had\nreceiv'd an Account in _England_ that we were exceeding strong; that we had\nseveral Gangs of Pirates from the _Spanish West-Indies_, that had taken\ngreat Booties there, and were gone all to _Madagascar_ to join Captain\n_Avery_; that he had taken three great _East-India_ Ships, one _Dutch_, and\ntwo _Portuguese_, which they had converted into Men of War; that he had\n6000 Men under his Command; that he had twelve Ships, whereof three carry'd\n60 Guns a-piece, and six more of them, from 40 to 50 Guns; that they had\nbuilt a large Fort to secure their Habitations; and that they had two large\nTowns, one on one Side, one on the other of a River, cover'd by the said\nFort, and two great Platforms or Batteries of Guns to defend the Entrance\nwhere their Ships rode; that they had an immense invaluable Treasure; and\nthat it was said, Captain _Avery_ was resolv'd to People the whole Island\nof _Madagascar_ with _Europeans_, and to get Women from _Jamaica_ and the\n_Leeward Islands_; and that it was not doubted but he would subdue, and\nmake himself King of that Country, if he was let alone a little longer.\nI had enjoin'd my Men, in the first Place, not to let him know that I was\n_Avery_, but that I was one of his Captains; and in the next Place, not to\nsay a Word but just _Ay_, and _No_, as Things occurr'd, and leave the rest\nto me. I heard him patiently out in all the Particulars above, and when he\nhad done, I told him it was true, Captain _Avery_ was in the Island of\n_Madagascar_, and that several other Societies of Buccaneers and\nFreebooters were join'd him from the _Spanish West-Indies_; for, said I,\nthe Plenty and Ease of our living here is such, and we are so safe from all\nthe World, that we do not doubt but we shall be twenty thousand Men in a\nvery little Time, when two Ships which we have sent to the _West-Indies_\nshall come back, and shall have told the Buccaneers at the Bay of\n_Campeachy_, how we live here.\nBut, said I, you in _England_ greatly wrong Captain _Avery_, our General,\n(so I call'd myself, to advance our Credit) for I can assure you, that\nexcept plundering the Ship, and taking that immense Booty which he got in\nthe great Ship where the Great Mogul's Daughter was, there was not the\nleast Injury done to the Lady, no Ravishing or Violence to her, or any of\nher Attendance; and this, said I, you may take of my certain Knowledge;\nfor, said I, I was on Board the Ship with our General all the while: And if\nany of the Princess's Women were lain with, said I, on Board the other\nShip, as I believe most of them were, yet it was done with their own\nConsent and good Will, and no otherwise; and they were all dismiss'd\nafterwards, without so much as being put in Fear or Apprehensions of Life\nor Honour.\nThis I assur'd him, (as indeed it was just) and told him, I hop'd, if ever\nhe came safe to _England_, he would do Captain _Avery_, and all of us,\nJustice in that particular Case.\nAs to our being well fortify'd on the Island, and our Numbers, I assur'd\nthem all they were far from thinking too much of us; that we had a very\ngood Fleet, and a very good Harbour for them; that we were not afraid of\nany Force from _Europe_, either by Land or Water; that it was, indeed, in\nvain to pretend to attack us by Force; that the only Way for the Government\nof _England_ to bring us back to our Duty, would be to send a Proclamation\nfrom _England_ with the Queen's Pardon for our General and all his People,\nif they came in by a certain Time: And, added I, we know you want Money in\n_England_, I dare say, said I, our General, Captain _Avery_, and his\nparticular Gang, who have the main Riches, would not grudge to advance five\nor six Millions of Ducats to the Government, to give them Leave to return\nin Peace to _England_, and sit down quietly with the rest.\nThis Discourse, I suppose, was the Ground of the Rumour you have had in\n_England_, That _Avery_ had offer'd to come in and submit, and would give\nsix Millions for his Pardon: For as these Men were soon after this\ndismiss'd, and went back to _England_, there is no Doubt but they gave a\nparticular Account of the Conference they had with me, who they call'd one\nof Captain _Avery_'s Captains.\nWe kept these five Men six or seven Days, and we pretended to show them the\nCountry from some of the Hills, calling it all our own, and pointing every\nWay how many Miles we extended ourselves; we made them believe also that\nall the rest of the Country was at our Disposal, that the whole _Island_\nwas at our Beck; we told them we had Treasure enough to enrich the whole\nKingdom of _England_; that our General had several Millions in Diamonds,\nand we had many Tuns of Silver and Gold; that we had fifty large Barns full\nof all Sorts of Goods, as well _European_ as _Indian_; and that it would be\ntruly the best Way for _England_ to do as they said, namely, to invite us\nall Home by a Proclamation with a Pardon: And if they would do this, said\nI, they can ask no reasonable Sum, but our General might advance it;\nbesides, getting Home such a Body of stout able Seamen as we were, such a\nNumber of Ships, and such a Quantity of rich Goods.\nWe had several long Discourses with them upon these Heads, and our frequent\noffering this Part to them with a Kind of feeling Warmth, (for it was what\nwe all desir'd) has caus'd, I doubt not, the Rumour of such great Offers\nmade by us, and of a Letter sent by me to the Queen, to beg her Majesty's\nPardon for myself and my Company, and offering ten Millions of Money\nAdvance to the Queen for the publick Service: All which is a meer Fiction\nof the Brain of those which have publish'd it; neither were we in any\nCondition to make such an Offer; neither did I, or any of my Crew or\nCompany, ever write a Letter or Petition to the Queen, or to any one in the\nGovernment, or make any Application in the Case other than as above, which\nwas only Matter of Conversation or private Discourse.\nNor were we so strong in Men or Ships, or any Thing like it. You have heard\nof the Number of Ships which we had now with us, which amounted to two\nShips and a Sloop, and no more, except the Prize in which we took the\nMogul's Daughter; (which Ship we call'd, _The Great Mogul_) but she was fit\nfor nothing, for she would neither sail or steer worth a Farthing, and\nindeed was fit for no Use but a Hulk, or a Guard-Ship.\nAs to Numbers of Men, they bely'd us strangely, and particularly, they\nseem'd only to mistake Thousands for Hundreds: For whereas they told us,\nthat you in _England_ had a Report of our being six thousand Men, I must\nacknowledge that I think we were never, when we were at the most, above six\nhundred; and at the Time when I quitted the Country, I left about one\nhundered and eight Men there, and no more, and I am assur'd, all the Number\nthat now remains there, is not above twenty two Men, no, not in the whole\nIsland.\nWell, we thought, however, that it was no Business of ours at that Time to\nundeceive them in their high Opinion of our great Strength, so we took Care\nto magnify ourselves, and the Strength of our General, (meaning myself)\nthat they might carry the Story to _England_, depending upon it, _That a\nTale loses nothing in the carrying._ When they told us of our Fort, and the\nBatteries at the Mouth of the River where our Ships lie, we insinuated,\nthat it was a Place where we did not fear all the Fleets in the World\nattacking us; and when they told us of the Number of Men, we strove to make\nthem believe that they were much many more.\nAt length, the poor Men began to be tir'd of us, and indeed we began to be\ntir'd of them; for we began to be afraid very much that they would prye a\nlittle Way into our Affairs, and that a little too narrowly that Way; so as\nthey began to sollicit their Deliverance, we began to listen to their\nImportunities: In a Word, we agreed to dismiss them; and accordingly we\ngave them Leave to go away to the Watering-place, as if they had made their\nEscape from us; which they did, carrying away their Heads full of all those\nunlikely projected Things which you have heard above.\nIn all this, however, I had not the good Luck to advance one Step towards\nmy own Escape; and here is one Thing remarkable, _viz._ That the great Mass\nof Wealth I had gotten together, was so far from forwarding my Deliverance,\nthat it really was the only Thing that hinder'd it most effectually; and I\nwas so sensible of it, that I resolv'd once to be gone, and leave all my\nWealth behind me, except some Jewels, as several of our Men had done\nalready: For many of them were so impatient of staying here, that they\nfound Means to get away, some and some, with no more Money than they could\ncarry about them; particularly, thirteen of our Men made themselves a Kind\nof Shaloup with a Mast and Sail, and went for the Red Sea, having two\nPatareroes for her Defence, and every Man a thousand Pieces of Eight, and\nno more, except that one _Macmow_ an _Irishman_, who was their Captain, had\nfive Rubies and a Diamond, which he got among the Plunder of the Mogul's\nShip.\nThese Men, as I heard, gat safe to _Mocca_ in the _Arabian_ Gulph, where\nthey fetch the Coffee, and their Captain manag'd for them all so well, that\nof Pirates he made them Merchants, laid out all the Stock in Coffee, and\ngot a Vessel to carry it up the Red Sea to _Sues_, where they sold it to\nthe Factors for the _European_ Merchants, and came all safe to\n_Alexandria_, where they parted the Money again; and then every one\nseparated as they thought fit, and went their own Way.\nWe heard of this by mere Accident afterwards, and I confess I envy'd their\nSuccess; and tho' it was a great while after this that I took a like Run,\nyet you may be sure I form'd a Resolution from that Time to do the like;\nand most of the Time that I stay'd after this, was employ'd in picking out\na suitable Gang that I might depend upon, as well to trust with the Secret\nof my going away, as to take with me; and on whom I might depend, and they\non me, for keeping one another's Council when we should come into _Europe_.\nIt was in Pursuit of this Resolution that I went this little Voyage to the\nSouth of the Island, and the Gang I took with me prov'd very trusty, but we\nfound no Opportunity then for our Escape: Two of the Men that we took\nPrisoners would fain have gone with us, but we resolv'd to trust none of\nthem with the real and true Discovery of our Circumstances; and as we had\nmade them believe mighty Things of ourselves, and of the Posture of our\nSettlement, that we had 5000 Men, 12 Men of War, and the like, we were\nresolv'd they should carry the Delusion away with them, and that no Body\nshould undeceive them; because, tho' we had not such an immense Wealth as\nwas reported, and so as to be able to offer ten Millions for our Pardon,\nyet we had a very great Treasure; and, being nothing near so strong as they\nhad imagin'd, we might have been made a Prey, with all our Riches, to any\nSet of Adventurers who might undertake to attempt us, by Consent of the\nGovernment of _England_, and make the Expedition, _No Purchase no Pay._\nFor this Reason we civily declin'd them, told them we had Wealth enough,\nand therefore did not now Cruise Abroad as we used to do, unless we should\nhear of another Wedding of a King's Daughter; or unless some rich Fleet, or\nsome Heathen Kingdom was to be attempted; and that therefore a new Comer,\nor any Body of new Comers, could do themselves no good by coming over to\nus: If any Gang of Pirates or Buccaneers would go upon their Adventures,\nand when they had made themselves rich, would come and settle with us, we\nwould take them into our Protection, and give them Land to build Towns and\nHabitations for themselves, and so in Time we might become a great Nation,\nand inhabit the whole Island: I told them, the _Romans_ themselves were, at\nfirst, no better than such a Gang of Rovers as we were; and who knew but\nour General, Captain _Avery_, might lay the Foundation of as great an\nEmpire as they.\nThese big Words amaz'd the Fellows, and answer'd my End to a Tittle; for\nthey told such Rhodomantading Stories of us, when they came back to their\nShips, and from them it spread so universally all over the _East-Indies_,\n(for they were Outward-bound) that none of the _English_ or _Dutch_ Ships\nwould come near _Madagascar_ again, if they could help it, for a great\nwhile, for Fear of us; and we, who were soon after this dwindled away to\nless than 100 Men, were very glad to have them think us too strong to\nmeddle with, or so strong that no Body durst come near us.\nAfter these Men were gone, we rov'd about to the East Side of the Island,\nand in a Word, knew not what to do, or what Course to take, for we durst\nnot put out to Sea in such a Bauble of a Boat as we had under us; but tir'd\nat last, we came back to the South Point of the Island again; in our\nrounding the Island we saw a great _English_-built Ship at Sea, but at too\nfar Distance to speak with her; and if it had not, we knew not what to have\nsaid to her, for we were not strong enough to attack her: We judg'd by her\nCourse, she stood away from the Isle of St. _Maurice_ or _Mauritius_, for\nthe _Cape of Good Hope_, and must, as we suppos'd, come from the _Malabar_\nCoast, bound Home for _England_; so we let her go.\nWe are now return'd back to our Settlement on the North Part of the Island;\nand I have singl'd out about 12 or 13 bold brave Fellows, with whom I am\nresolv'd to venture to the Gulph of _Persia_; twenty more of our Men have\nagreed to carry us thither as Passengers in the Sloop, and try their own\nFortunes afterwards, for they allow we are enough to go together. We\nresolve, when we come to _Bassaro_, to separate into three Companies, as if\nwe did not know one another; to dress ourselves as Merchants, for now we\nlook like Hell-hounds and Vagabonds; but when we are well dress'd, we\nexpect to look as other Men do. If I come thither, I purpose, with two\nmore, to give my Companions the Slip, and travel as _Armenians_ thro'\n_Persia_ to the _Caspian_ Sea, so to _Constantinople_; and I doubt not we\nshall, one Way or other, find our Way, with our Merchandize and Money, to\ncome into _France_, if not quite Home to my own Country. Assure yourself,\nwhen I arrive in any Part of Christendom, I will give you a farther Account\nof my Adventures.\n      _Your Friend and Servant,_\n   _The End of the First Letter._\nA Second LETTER\nI WROTE my last Letter to you from _Madagascar_, where I had\ncontinu'd so long till my People began to drop from me, some and some, and,\nindeed, I had, at last, but few left; so that I began to apprehend they\nwould give an Account in _Europe_, how weak I was, and how easy it was to\nattack me; nay, and to make their Peace, might some of them, at least,\noffer their Service to be Pilots to my Port, and might guide the Fleets or\nShips that should attempt me.\nWith these Apprehensions, I not only was uneasy myself, but made all my Men\nuneasy too; for, as I was resolv'd to attempt my own Escape, I did not care\nhow many of my Men went before me: But this you must take with you by the\nBye, that I never let them imagine that I intended to stir from the Spot\nmyself; I mean, after my Return from the Ramble that I had taken round the\nIsland, of which I have given you an Account; but, that I resolv'd to take\nup my Rest in _Madagascar_ as long as I liv'd; indeed, before, I said\notherwise, as I wrote you before, and made them all promise to fetch me\naway, but now I gave it out that I was resolv'd to live and die here; and\ntherefore, a little before I resolv'd upon going, I set to Work to build me\na new House, and to plant me a pretty Garden at a Distance from our Fort;\nonly I had a select Company, to whom I communicated every Thing, and who\nresolv'd that, at last, we would go altogether, but that we would do it our\nown Way.\nWhen I had finish'd my new House, (and a mighty Palace you would say it\nwas, if you had been to see it) I remov'd to it, with eight of the Gang\nthat were to be my Fellow adventurers; and to this Place we carry'd all our\nprivate Wealth, that is to say, Jewels and Gold; as to our Share of Silver,\nas it was too heavy to remove, and must be done in Publick, I was oblig'd\nto leave it behind; but we had a Stratagem for that too, and it was thus:\nWe had a Sloop, as you have heard, and she lay in our Harbour, 'tis true;\nbut she lay ready to sail upon any Occasion; and the Men, who were of our\nConfederacy, who were not with me at my Country-house, were twelve in\nNumber: These Men made a Proposal, that they would take the Sloop, and go\naway to the Coast of _Malabar_, or where else they could speed to their\nMind, and buy a Fraight of Rice for the publick Account: In a free State as\nwe were, every Body was free to go wherever they would, so that no Body\noppos'd them; the only Dispute at any Time, was about taking the Vessel we\nhad to go in: However, as these Men seem'd only to act upon the publick\nAccount, and to go to buy Provisions, no Body offer'd to deny them the\nSloop, so they prepar'd for their Voyage: Just as they were ready to go,\none of them starts it to the rest, that it was very hazardous and difficult\nto run such a Length every now and then to get a little Rice, and if they\nwould go, why should they not bring a good Quantity? This was soon\nresolv'd; so they agreed, they should take Money with them to buy a good\nShip wherever they could find her, and then to buy a Loading of Rice to\nfill her up, and so come away with her.\nWhen this was agreed, they resolv'd to take no Money out of the grand\nStock, but to take such Mens Money as were gone, and had left their Money\nbehind; and this being consented to, truly, my Friends took the Occasion,\nand took all their own Money, and mine, (being 64 little Chests of Pieces\nof Eight) and carry'd it on Board, as if it had been of Men that were\nPrick'd-run, and no Body took any Notice of it. These twelve Men had also\nnow got twelve more with them, under Pretence of manning a Ship, if we\nshould buy one, and in this Pickle away they put to Sea.\nWe had due Notice of every Thing that was done; and having a Signal given\nof the Time they resolv'd to go, we pack'd up all our Treasure, and began\nour March to the Place appointed, which from our Quarters was about forty\nMile farther North.\nOur Habitation, that is to say, my new House, was about sixteen Miles up\nthe Country, so that the rest of our People could have no Notice of our\nMarch, neither did they miss us, at least, as I heard of, for we never\nheard any more of them; nor can I imagine what Condition or Circumstance\nthey can be in at present, if they are still upon the Place, as, however, I\nbelieve some of them are.\nWe join'd our Comrades, with a great Deal of Ease, about three Days\nafterwards, for we march'd but softly, and they lay by for us: The Night\nbefore we went on Board, we made them a Signal by Fire, as we had appointed\nto let them know where we were, and that we were at Hand; so they sent\ntheir Boat and fetch'd us off, and we embark'd without any Notice taken by\nthe Rest.\nAs we were now loose, and at Sea, our next Business was to resolve whither\nwe should go; and I soon govern'd the Point, resolving for _Bassaro_ in the\nGulph of _Persia_, where I knew we might shift for ourselves: Accordingly,\nwe steer'd away for the _Arabian_ Coast, and had good Weather for some\nTime, even till we made the Land at a great Distance, when we steer'd\nEastward along the Shore.\nWe saw several Ships, in our Way, bound to and from the Red Sea, as we\nsuppos'd, and, at another Time, we would have been sure to have spoken with\nthem: But, we had done Pirating; our Business now was, how to get off, and\nmake our Way to some Retreat, where we might enjoy what we had got; so we\ntook no Notice of any Thing by the Way; but, when we was thus sailing\nmerrily along, the Weather began to change, the Evening grew black and\ncloudy, and threaten'd a Storm: We were in Sight or a little Island, (I\nknow nothing of its Name) under which we might have anchor'd with Safety\nenough, but our People made light of it, and went on.\nAbout an Hour after Sun-set the Wind began to rise, and blew hard at N. E.\nand at N. E. by N. and in two Hours Time encreas'd to such a Tempest, as in\nall my Rambles I never met with the like; we were not able to carry a Knot\nof Sail, or to know what to do, but to stow every Thing close, and let her\ndrive; and, in this Condition we continu'd all the Night, all the next Day,\nand Part of the Night after; towards Morning the Storm abated a little, but\nnot so as to give us any Prospect of pursuing our voyage; all the Ease we\nhad, was, that we could just carry a little Sail to steddy the Vessel, and\nrun away before it; which we did at that violent Rate, that we never abated\n'till we made Land on the East Side of _Madagascar_, the very Island we\ncame from, only on the other Side of the Island.\nHowever, we were glad we had any Place to run to for Harbour; so we put in\nunder the Lee of a Point of Land that gave us Shelter from the Wind, and\nwhere we came to an Anchor, after being all of us almost dead with the\nFatigue; and, if our Sloop had not been an extraordinary Sea-boat, she\ncould never have born such a Sea, for twelve Days together, as we were in,\nthe worst I ever saw before or since. We lay here, to refresh ourselves,\nabout twenty Days; and, indeed, the Wind blew so hard all the while, that\nif we had been dispos'd to go to Sea, we could not have done it; and, being\nhere, about seven of our Men began to repent their Bargain, and left us,\nwhich I was not sorry for. It seems, the principal Reason of their looking\nback, was, their being of those who had left their Money behind them. They\ndid not leave us without our Consent, and therefore our Carpenters built\nthem a Boat, during the three Weeks we stay'd here, and fitted it very\nhandsomely for them, with a Cabin for their Convenience, and a Mast and\nSail, with which they might very well sail round to our Settlement, as we\nsuppose they did: We gave them Fire-arms and Ammunition sufficient, and\nleft them furnishing themselves with Provisions; and this, we suppose, was\nthe Boat, tho' with other Men in it, which adventur'd afterwards as far as\nthe _Cape of Good Hope_, and was taken up by a _Portugese_ in Distress, by\nwhich Means they got Passage for themselves to _Lisbone_, pretending they\nhad made their Escape from the Pirates at _Madagascar_; but we were told,\nthat the _Portuguese_ Captain took a good deal of their Money from them,\nunder Pretence of keeping it from his own Seamen; and that when they came\non Shore, and began to claim it, he threaten'd them with taking them up,\nand prosecuting them for Pirates, which made them compound with him, and\ntake about 10000 Dollars for above 120000, which they had with them; which,\nby the Way, was but a scurvy Trick: They had, it seems, a considerable\nQuantity of Gold among them, which they had the Wit to conceal from the\nCaptain of the Ship, and which was enough for such Fellows as them, and\nmore than they well knew what to do with; so that they were rich enough\nstill, tho' the _Portugal_ Captain was nevertheless a Knave for all that.\nWe left them here, as I have said, and put to Sea again; and, in about\ntwenty Days Sail, having pretty good Weather, we arriv'd at the Gulph of\n_Persia_: It would be too long to give you an Account of the particular\nFortunes of some of our People after this, the Variety of which would fill\na Volume by itself: But, in the first Place, we, who were determin'd to\ntravel, went on Shore at _Bassaro_, leaving the rest of our Men to buy\nRice, and load the larger Vessel back to their Comrades, which they\npromis'd to do; but how far they perform'd I know not.\nWe were thirteen of us that went on Shore here; from whence we hir'd a kind\nof Barge, or rather a Bark, which, after much Difficulty, and very unhandy\nDoings of the Men who we had hir'd, brought us to _Babylon_, or _Bagdat_,\nas it is now call'd.\nOur Treasure was so great, that if it had been known what we had about us,\nI am of Opinion we should never have troubl'd _Europe_ with our Company:\nHowever, we gat safe to _Babylon_ or_ Bagdat_, where we kept ourselves\n_Incog_ for a while, took a House by ourselves, and lay four or five Days\nstill, till we had got Vests and long Gowns made to appear Abroad in as\n_Armenian_ Merchants. After we had got Cloaths, and look'd like other\nPeople, we began to appear Abroad; and I, that from the Beginning had\nmeditated my Escape by myself, began now to put it into Practice; and,\nwalking one Morning upon the Bank of the River _Euphrates_, I mus'd with\nmyself what Course I should take to make off, and get quite away from the\nGang, and let them not so much as suspect me.\nWhile I was walking here, comes up one of my Comrades, and one who I always\ntook for my particular Friend: I know what you are employ'd in, _said he_,\nwhile you seem only to be musing, and refreshing yourself with the cool\nBreeze. Why, _said I_, what am I musing about? Why, _said he_, you are\nstudying how you should get away from us; but, muse upon it as long as you\nwill, _says he_, you shall never go without me, for I am resolv'd to go\nwith you which Way soever you take. 'Tis true, _says I_, I was musing which\nWay I should go, but not which Way I should go without you; for tho' I\nwould be willing to part Company, yet you cannot think I would go alone;\nand you know I have chosen you out from all the Company to be the Partner\nof all my Adventures.\nVery well, _says he_, but I am to tell you now, that it is not only\nnecessary that we should not go all together; but, our Men have all\nconcluded, that we should make our Escape every one for himself, and should\nseparate as we could; so that you need make no Secret of your Design any\nmore than of the Way you intend to take.\nI was glad enough of this News, and it made me very easy in the\nPreparations we made for our setting out: And, the first Thing we did, was,\nto get us more Cloaths, having some made of one Fashion, some of another;\nbut, my Friend and I, who resolv'd to keep together, made us Cloaths after\nthe Fashion of the _Armenian_ Merchants, whose Country we pretended to\ntravel through.\nIn the mean Time, five of our Men dress'd like Merchants; and, laying out\ntheir Money in Raw Silk, and Wrought Silks, and other Goods of the Country,\nproper for _Europe_, (in which they were directed by an _English_ Merchant\nthere) resolv'd to take the usual Rout, and travel by the Caravans from\n_Babylon_ to _Alleppo_, and so to _Scanderoon_, and we staid and saw them\nand their Bales go off in Boats for a great Town on the _Euphrates_, where\nthe Caravans begin to take up the Passengers; the other six divided\nthemselves, one Half of them went for _Agra_, the Country of the Great\nMogul, resolving to go down the River _Hoogly_ to _Bengal_; but whither\nthey went afterward or what Course they took, I never knew, neither whether\nthey really went at all or not.\nThe other three went by Sea, in a _Persian_ Vessel, back from the Red Sea\nto the Gulf of _Mocca_, and I heard of them all three at _Marseilles_; but\nwhither they went afterwards I never knew, nor could I come to speak with\nthem even there.\nAs for me and my Friend, we first laid out all the Silver we had in\n_European_ Ware, such as we knew would vend at _Ispahan_, which we carry'd\nupon twelve Camels; and hiring some Servants, as well for our Guide as our\nGuard, we set out.\nThe Servants we hir'd were a Kind of _Arab_, but rather looking like the\nGreat Mogul's people, than real _Arabians_; and when we came into _Persia_,\nwe found they were look'd upon as no better than Dogs, and were not only\nused ill, but that we were used ill for their Sakes; and after we were come\nthree Days into the _Persian_ Dominions, we found ourselves oblig'd to part\nwith them; so we gave them three Dollars a Man to go back again.\nThey understood their Business very well, and knew well enough what was the\nReason of it, though we did not. However, we found we had committed a great\nMistake in it; for we perceiv'd that they were so exasperated at being\nturn'd off, that they vowed to be revenged; and, indeed, they had their\nRevenge to the Full; for the same Day, at Night, they return'd in the Dark,\nand set eleven Houses on Fire in the Town where we quartered; which, by the\nWay, had gone near to have cost me my Life, and would certainly have done\nso, if in the Hurry I had not seiz'd one of the Incendiaries and deliver'd\nhim up to them.\nThe People were so provok'd at him that was taken that they fell upon him\nwith all possible Fury as the common Incendiary and Burner of the Town, and\npresently quitted us (for they had before vowed our Destruction) but, as I\nsaid, quitted us immediately, and thronged about the Wretch they had taken;\nand, indeed, I made no Question but that they would have immediately\nmurder'd him (nay, that they would have torn him in Pieces before they\nparted with him). But after they had vented their Rage at him for some Time\nwith all possible Reproaches and Indignities, they carry'd him before the\n_Cadi_, or Judge of the Place. The _Cadi_, a wise, grave Man, answered, no,\nhe would not judge him at that Time, for they were too hot and passionate\nto do Justice; but they should come with him in the Morning, when they were\ncool, and he would hear them.\nIt is true this was a most excellent Step of the _Cadi_ as to the right Way\nof doing Justice; but it did not prove the most expedient in the present\nOccasion, though that was none of his Fault neither; for in the Night the\nFellow got out of their Hands, by what Means or by whose Assistance I never\nheard to this Day; and the _Cadi_ fined the Town in a considerable Sum for\nletting a Man accused of a capital Crime make his Escape before he was\nadjudged, and, as we call it, discharged according to Law.\nThis was an eminent Instance of the Justice of these People; and though\nthey were doubly enraged at the Escape of the Fellow, who, without Doubt,\nwas guilty, yet they never open'd their Mouths against the _Cadi_; but\nacquiesc'd in his Judgment, as in that of an Oracle, and submitted to the\nnational Censure, or Censure according to the Custom of their Nation, which\nhe had pass'd upon them in their publick Capacity for the Escape of the\nMan.\nWe were willing to get out of this Place as soon as we could; for we found\nthe Peoples Rage, which wanted an Object to vent itself upon, began to\nthreaten us again: So having pack'd up our Goods, and gotten five ordinary\nCamel-Drivers for our Servants in the Country, we set out again.\nThe Roads in _Persia_ are not so much frequented, as to be well\naccommodated with Inns, so that several Times we were oblig'd to lodge upon\nthe Ground in the Way; but our new Servants took Care to furnish us with\nLodging; for as soon as we let them know we wanted Rest, and inclin'd to\nstop, they set up a Tent for us, in so short a Time, that we were scarce\nable to imagine it possible, and under this we encamp'd, our Camels being\njust by us, and our Servants and Bales lying all hard by.\nOnce or twice we lodg'd in publick Inns, built at the King of _Persia_'s\nCharge: These are fair large Buildings, built square, like a large Inn,\nthey have all of them large Stables, and good Forrage for the Camels and\nHorses, and Apartments for perhaps two or three hundred People, and they\nare call'd _Caravansera's_, as being built to entertain whole Caravans of\nTravellers: On the great Roads to _Tauris_ and the Side of _Turky_ they are\nall fortify'd, and are able to entertain five or six Thousand People, and\nhave a Stock to furnish what Number of Men can come with Provisions; nay,\nit has been known, that whole armies of the _Persians_ have on their March\nbeen furnish'd with Provisions in one of these _Caravansera's_, and that\nthey have kill'd 2000 Sheep for them in one Night's Time.\nIn this Manner we travell'd to _Ispahan_, the Capital of _Persia_, where\nappearing as Merchants, and with several Camels loaden with Merchandize, we\npass'd all Possibility of Suspicion, and being perfectly easy, we continu'd\nhere some Time, sold our Cargoes, and would gladly have remitted the Money\nto other Places, as for _Constantinople_ in particular; but we found the\n_Turks_ and _Persians_ have no such Thing as an Exchange, by Bills running\nbetween them and other Nations, no, nor between one Town and another.\nWe were invited here by a sudden Accident to have gone Home by the\n_Caspian_ Sea and _Astracan_, so thro' _Muscovy_; but I had heard so much\nof the Barbarity of the _Russians_, the dangerous Navigation of the\n_Caspian_ Sea by Reason of the Calms and Shoals, the Hazard of being robb'd\nby the _Tartars_ on the River _Wolga_, and the like, that I chose to travel\nto _Constantinople_, a Journey through Desarts, over Mountains and Wastes,\namong so many Sorts of Barbarians, that I would run any Kind of Hazards by\nSea, before I would attempt such a Thing again.\nIt would deserve another History to let you into all the different\nCircumstances of this Journey; how well I was us'd by some, and how ill by\nothers; nay, how well by some _Mahometans_, how ill by some Christians: But\nit shall suffice to tell you, that I am at present at _Constantinople_;\nand, tho' I write this here, I do not purpose to send it to you till I come\nto _Marseilles_ in _France_; from whence I intend to go and live in some\ninland Town, where, as they have, perhaps, no Notion of the Sea, so they\nwill not be inquisitive after us.\n   _FINIS._", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The King of Pirates\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\nTHE MEMOIRS OF\nMajr. _Alexander Ramkins_,\nA HIGHLAND OFFICER,\nNow in Prison at _AVIGNON_.\nBEING\nAn Account of several remarkable Adventures during about\nTwenty Eight Years Service in _Scotland, Germany, Italy,\nFlanders_ and _Ireland_; exhibiting a very agreeable and instructive\nLesson of Human Life, both in a Publick and\nPrivate Capacity, in several pleasant Instances of his\nAmours, Gallantry, Oeconomy, &_c._\n_LONDON_: Printed for _R. King_ at the _Queen's-head,_ and\n_W. Boreham_ at the _Angel_ in _Pater-noster-row,_ 1719.\nPrice _1s. 6d._ Stich'd, and _2s._ Bound.\nTHE PUBLISHER TO THE READER\n_I Think it proper to inform the Reader that these Papers were deliver'd\ninto my Hands by a near Kinsman of the Authors, who lately came from the\nSouthern Parts of_ France. _His Design in imparting these Memoirs to me,\nwas (as I quickly perceiv'd) to know my Sentiments of the Performance.\nIt seems the Gentleman had been sour'd by_ French _Practises, and was\nwilling that the World should be no longer a Stranger to what was the\nground of his distast. The Author appears very well qualify d for his\nTask, and opens a Scene of Politicks which the good natur'd part of\nMankind will scarce think human Race capable of. Those that are\nacquainted with the Person of Major Ramkins, assure me, that the late\nKing fames never had a more active and diligent Servant, and that he was\none never wanting in his Station. If I am of a contrary Opinion to the\nPublick in judging these Remarks worthy of the Press, 'tis what I do not\nat present find my self convinc'd of. One Benefit at least may be\nexpected from 'em, that they will induce all true Britains to be\ncautious, and not imbark themselves in a foreign Interest for the\nfuture, if not for the sake of their Country, at least for their own\nSakes. I will not anticipate the Contents, but only take the freedom to\nacquaint the Reader in General. That it will be one of the greatest\nParadoxes in future Ages to read, that the Court of_ St. Germains\n_should have been a Sleep, and impos'd upon for Twenty Eight Years\nsuccessively, unless their being trick'd by the greatest of Politicians,\nbe a Circumstance to take off from the Surprize_.\nTHE MEMOIRS OF\n_Alexander Ramkins, &c._\nI was not above Seventeen Years of Age when the Battle of _Gillycranky_\nwas fought between the Two Highland Generals, the Lord Viscount _Dundee_\nand _Mackay_. And being then a Stripling at the University of _Aberdeen_\nand understanding that several Clans were gathering into a Body in\ndefence of King _James_ III sold my Books and Furniture of my Lodgings,\nand equipp'd my self to observe the Martial Call, I found my self\nprompted with. I arriv'd in a few Days near the Field of Battle, and\njoyn'd my self with a broken Body of Men who were making up towards the\nMountains to recover themselves after the Fatigue of Battle. The\nNoviceship I went through in the _Highlands_, was no improper Foundation\nfor the course Method of living I have been since engag'd in for above\nTwenty Seven Years; during which Time, I have run through all those\nHardships which are incident to one who seeks a Preferment in Fire and\nSmoak.\nWhile I strolled about in the _Highlands_, it was my good Fortune to be\nunder the Tuition of an old Officer, who let me into many of those\nlittle Secrets which are not unserviceable to such as Design to make the\nwhole Earth the Theatre of their Life; but what I chiefly valued this\nold Gentleman's Conversation for, was the Happiness I had to be a Hearer\nof some of his Politick Lessons, of which he was a great Master, having\nfurnish'd himself by Fifty Years Practice, with the best Idea's of that\nkind.\nUpon a certain Day when our Party were out, some upon Foraging, and\nothers to get Intelligence, I being alone in a Cottage with this old\nCaptain, and being desirous to know his Opinion of the Affairs of\n_Europe_ in general, as also what was like to be the Issue of that\nCause we had undertaken. The old Captain willing to satisfy my Curiosity\nas far as his Skill would reach, pulled out some Remarks he had made\nupon the Year 1640. Observe, _says_ he, Child what I say to you, 'tis a\nMaxim never to be neglected among Politicians to keep up Divisions in an\nEnemies Country; you may, perhaps, imagine that this will be a short\nGame that is a playing, but depend upon it my Grey Hairs will not see an\nend of it. I allow the King of _France_ has declar'd himself a Friend to\nKing _James_ II; He is a very powerful Prince, and if he would turn his\nForces this Way, and be upon the Defensive near Home, a few Months would\nbring the War to a Period. But that Monarch has things in his Head which\nI must not mention. There will be great Skirmishing in the Dominions of\n_Great Britain_, but no decisive Action if _Lewis le Grand_ can hinder\nit. He takes Cardinal _Richlieu's_ Conduct for a Precedent. It would\nhave been no difficult Task for the _French_ to have joyn'd their Forces\nwith King _Charles_ I. and have made a short Hand of that Contest\nbetween the King and Parliament; but that Politick Cardinal instead of\nthis Method, had Emissaries in the _English_ Cabinet to exaggerate\nMatters between them. The same Method has been observ'd by that Nation\never since; and if _Lewis le Grand_ does not make a Politick Use of King\n_James_ II. without doing him any real Service, I shall be very willing\nto correct my self, and cancel that Paragraph in my Observations.\nThis was the first Politick Lesson I was entertain'd with by my old\nMaster; which, though at that time my want of Experience did not permit\nme thoroughly to comprehend, yet since, a Resemblance of Circumstances\nhas often reviv'd it my Mind; nor could I ever be well reconcil'd to\nthat Piece of Morality, That it was a laudable Practice to set People by\nthe Ears together.\nThe hopes of being releas'd, is the best Support to Men in Misery, and\nour small Body of Three Hundred Men wou'd not have remain'd so long\nunder Discipline, if Expectation had not been nourish'd with daily\nAlarms of Assistance from _France_. Our commanding Officer was\nRomantickly Loyal, and look'd upon every little Hill we scrambled over,\nas an impregnable Fortress, from whose Summit he often took occasion to\nHarangue us, as if the Eyes of all _Europe_ were upon us, and the Fate\nof the Three Kingdoms hung at our Swords Points. But the Truth was, I\nbelieve, we were unknown to all Mankind, and if those Villages we\nmarch'd by you'd but secure the Cattle from us, the State was in no\ngreat Danger from our Quarter.\nAs for the Hopes of being assisted from _France_, though our Commander\nneglected no Pains to instill such a Belief into the Generality of the\nSoldiers, in order to prolong his Reign in that honourable Post he\nenjoy'd, yet I read it plainly in my old Captain's Forehead, that\n_France_ was not accustom'd to open their Treasures in countenancing\nChimerical Adventures, and that the most we could expect from thence,\nwould be a small _Dunkirk_ Privateer, with a Hogshead or two of Brandy\nto keep the Cause alive, while he was pushing on his Conquests in other\nParts of the Globe, in which the Glory and Interest of _France_ was more\nimmediately concern'd. For my own Part, as I was resolv'd to pursue my\nFortune in the way of Arms, and finding that there was no appearance of\n_Scotland's_ being a Place of Action, so I advis'd with my old Master\nwhat course I should steer to answer the Ends of my Call. The old\nGentleman, though he might have deterr'd me from such an Undertaking, by\nproposing himself as an Instance how little you'd be gain'd that way,\nhaving nothing to show for near Sixty Years Service in the War, but a\nBundle of Politick Remarks drawn from the false Steps he and others have\nmade in endeavouring to make their Fortune, yet since every Man must\nspin out his Thread of Life one way or other, and that that was most\nlikely to succeed well to which a Person found himself most inclinable,\nso he humour'd my present Dispositions; but at the same time, counsell'd\nme to Transport my self over to the Continent, where I might meet with\nsomething worthy my Curiosity. Islands, _says he_, are commonly won and\nlost in a Day, nor will they afford you that variety of Stratagems which\nwill make you perfect in the Art of War. After this I only waited for a\nfit Opportunity to quit the Service I was in, for though I was no\nfarther engaged than in the Quality of a Gentleman Volunteer, yet a\nStrain of Honour would not permit me to forsake my Companions, unless\nsome more plausible Reason occurr'd to me than what I could invent at\nthat Time. But it was not long before an occasion offered it self to put\nmy Project in Execution. By moving too and fro our little Army, I was\nwithin Twenty Miles of my Mother's House, (for my Father had been dead\nsome Years) having therefor first communicated my Design to my old\nMaster, whom I intended to invite along with me, if he approv'd of my\nUndertaking.\nIn conclusion, Things were order'd so, that the old Captain, with\nmyself, and another, were detatch'd out towards the Coast to get\nIntelligence, and that Night about Eleven we agreeably surpriz'd my\nMother who had for several Months been lamenting the Loss of her darling\nSon, whom she suppos'd to be kill'd at the Battle of _Gillycranky_; for\nshe had not justly inform'd herself of the precise Time I ran away from\nthe College at _Aberdeen_.\nI had Two elder Brothers, who both inherited the martial Spirit of our\nFamily, had been a long time absent from Home; one of them was prefer'd\nin the Emperor's Army in _Hungary_, the other belonging to the Guards of\nKing _James_ II follow'd his Fate into _France_ and _Ireland_, and\nafterwards was kill'd in _Ireland_. My father had three small Lordships,\nwhich we were equally to be Sharers of, allowing proportionably for my\nMothers maintenance, with a Thousand Pounds to be rais'd to marry our\nonly Sister.\nNow, as it was my Intention to Travel and gain Experience in the World,\nso my old Captain put it into my Head to raise a Sum of Money upon the\nCredit of my Land, assuring me it would prove my best Friend upon all\nOccasions, for that the World had but a very mean Opinion of Merit when\nstrip'd of other Advantages to recommend it. This Affair took up more\nTime than my warm Temper could well bear, and the Lawyers threw in so\nmany Delays, that had not the old Captain (who was well acquainted with\nBusiness) been at my Elbow to forward Things, I might have lost my\nVocation of being a Soldier before any Agreement cou'd have been made.\nBut after two Months were expir'd, I found my self Master of fifteen\nHundred Pound, the Price of my share of Land after the Deductions made\nfor my Mother and Sister; Twelve Hundred Pounds I lodg'd with a Banker\nat _Amsterdam_, the other Three was employ'd for an Equipage, and to\nsupply my Necessities in the Tour I design'd to take. The old Captain I\nintended to take along with me to be my Guide as well as Adviser; for I\nsaw so many Perfections in him, which the ungrateful World had\nneglected, That I judg'd it would be an honourable Omen in one that was\nbeginning the World, not to let him leave the Stage of Life unrewarded:\nBut as his Years had render'd him incapable to attend me in my Rambles,\nso Death came in to release him, and this worthy Person was taken from\nme about Ten Days before the Time I had fix'd for my Travels. However, I\nmust not let his Memory die, but give the World an Account of him as far\nas I cou'd gather from the Gentleman when he was disposed to Answer to\nQuestions concerning himself, in which he always behaved himself with a\nwell guarded Modesty.\nI learn'd from him, That his Father was the Head of a Clan which was one\nhalf cut off by _Oliver Cromwell_, and the other half Transported into\nthe _West-Indies_, with the fifteen Hundred _Scots_, that were condemn'd\nthither to Slavery by the Protector. My Friend being at that time about\nTwelve Years old, chose rather to share his Fathers Fate, and view the\nWestern parts of the Worlds, than fall into the Hands of a Person who\nwould stain the Beauty of his tender Mind, by giving him an unsuitable\nEducation. After he had buried his Father in _Virginia_, he took the\nOpportunity of a _French_ Vessel to pass over to _Brest_, and so to\n_Paris_, who by the Assistance of a _Scotch_ Nobleman, who was\nacquainted with his Family, he pick'd up a liberal Education, and made\nhimself Master of the _French_ and _Latin_, and having it in his\nElection whether he wou'd engage himself to the Church or follow the\nCamp, he chose the latter, and after some Months spent in the Academy,\nhe enter'd himself among the _Gens d'Arms_, and made very useful\nObservations in two or three Campaigns in _Germany_, in the last of\nwhich he was taken Prisoner and seduc'd into the Emperors Service by\nsome of his Countrymen, who persuaded him the _Germans_ were more\naccustom'd to advance Strangers than the _French_. In a little time he\nwas observ'd by his Colonel to be a Person of Parts and Resolution, and\nso was gradually advanc'd from a Cornet to a Captain of Horse; and as a\nMan of Spirit and Action never wants Opportunity to shew himself, so\nthis Gentleman met with many brave Adventures in the way of Soldiery,\nwhich some time he would occasionally recount to me, but they would be\ntoo tedious to insert in these Remarks. When King _James_ II came to\nthe Crown of _England_, he desired to throw up his Commission, it being\nsuggested to him, that the Prince stood in need of some old experienc'd\nOfficers to model an Army he was raising. Upon this Prospect he pass'd\nover to _England_, but being destitute of Acquaintance he loiter'd about\nthe Court, till one of the Duke of _Berwick's_ Retinue, who had heard of\nhim at the Siege of _Buda_, made the King acquainted with him. So he was\norder'd down into _Scotland_ with the Promise of a Colonels Commission,\nbut the Revolution following soon after, he acted only as a Captain of\nFoot at the Battle of _Gillycranky_.\nBut to cut short this Digression, the time now drew near that I was to\nundertake my intended Ramble, and indeed it was high time; for it being\nwhisper'd about in the Neighbourhood that I had been in Arms for King\n_James_ II. _Home_, as the saying is, _was too hot a Place for me_; so I\nsent my Servant to enquire for a Conveniency to pass over to _Flanders_,\nand in two Days I was provided with a _Roterdam_ Vessel, and so with\nvery little Ceremony took leave of my Mother, who though she was\nunwilling to part with me, yet she prefer'd the lesser Danger to the\ngreater, and rather wish'd me expos'd to the Waves, than to the Insults\nof my Enemies at Home.\nThe Wind blew very fresh, but tacking about too much to the _North\nEast_, it drove us upon Shore with that violence that we were oblig'd to\nput in twice to Land, once at _Scarborough_, and again at _Yarmouth_.\nAt this latter Place, a Pragmatical Searcher came aboard us with an Air\nof Authority as if he design'd to visit my Trunks; but one of the\nSailors informing me that this was stretching his Commission, for he\nought not to search after any Goods unless the Cargo was design'd for\nthat Port, so I ridded my self of this Spark with a Half-Crown Piece;\nfor I had no mind to enter much into a Parley with him lest he might\ndiscover my _Highland_ Expedition, for Fear never wants Apprehensions.\nAfter two Days stay in this Port, the Wind proving favourable, we were\nnot very long in making a Trip to _Roterdam_, where I only refresh'd\nmyself a few Hours, and pass'd on to _Amsterdam_ to visit my Bank, and\nsettle a Correspondence as to Returns of money.\nI met with nothing in this City that made any Impression upon me to\nstay any longer than settling the small concern of Money I lodg'd there.\nThe hurry of Business was too Mechanical an Entertainment, for one whose\nHead was filled with high Flights of Honour, Sieges, Battles, and other\nsuch like Sports. The _French_ Army at this time lay upon the _Rhine_,\nand my Design was to make that Way. When I arriv'd there, I found they\nhad surrounded _Mentz_ in order to Besiege it. I was glad to begin my\nfirst Campaign with so glorious an Undertaking, not doubting, but a\ngreat deal of Bravery would be shown where the Flower of the Houshold\nwas design'd for Action; but before I could make any Advantage of this\nOccurrence, I was to make my self known to some Person of Character who\nmight introduce me so as to be a Spectator of that noble Siege. At last\nI met with a _Scotch_ Gentleman, who rid in among the grand Molquetains,\nwho being fully inform'd of my Warlike Dispositions, assur'd me he would\nput me into the readiest Method he cou'd to gain Experience; but when he\ninform'd me that I must not pretend to great Things on a sudden, and\nthat I had at present only two Things in Election, either to carry a\nMusquet in a Common Foot Regiment, during the Siege, or which he wou'd\nrather advise me to (in case I had Money to be at that expence) to go to\n_Strasburgh_ and put my self under Discipline for six Weeks or two\nMonths among the _French_ Cadets.\nI must confess this was a great balk upon a double account: It not only\ndepriv'd me of the Satisfaction of seeing the Siege carried on, but it\nwas a sensible check to my aspiring Humour, to think what Drudgery I was\nto undergo before I could be regarded by the World; but when I reflected\non what I had often heard the old Captain (I buried in the _Highlands_)\nsay upon this Head, it made me easier under the Disappointment, and the\nnext Day I went on to _Strasburg_, and enter'd my self among the Cadets.\n'Tis in the Nature of a College, where young Gentlemen are instructed in\nthe Rudiments of War.\nDuring my stay at _Strasburg_ I omitted no opportunity of improving\nmyself as to the _French_ and _High Dutch_ Fortifications, and other\nParts of the Mathematicks which were useful in War. I was also present\nat some Lectures of Politicks which were given to those more advanc'd\nin Years, in which they handled the Interest of Nations, and brought\ndown their Reflections to the present Times. This I look'd upon as an\nexcellent Method of educating young Officers; for it qualify'd them to\nbe serviceable to their Country under a double Capacity; that is, as\nwell to Argue as to Fight for it, and defend it equally with their\nTongue and Sword.\nI remember an Antient Marquis who had a Superintendency over this\nAcademy, entertaining us one Day with the Motives of the present War,\nand running up the Cause to its Original, laid it before us in this\nmanner: _That the Monarchs of France wou'd look upon themselves as\ninjur'd by the rest of the Princes of_ Europe, _till the imperial Diadem\nwas restor'd to_ France, who were _first Possessors of it in the Person\nof_ Charles the Great; _that they had made several pushes in all Ages to\nrecover it, but without Effect; that while the_ English _had footing in_\nFrance, _they were too lazy to extend their Conquests upon the Empire of\nthe_ West; _and when they had chased out the_ English, and were rid of\nthat _Incumbrance, the House of_ Austria, _by the vast Acquisitions of\nthe_ Low Countries, _and joint Power of_ Spain, _sat so hard upon 'em,\nthat_ France _was not in a Capacity to make any Advances towards\nrecovering their Right to the Empire: What therefore they had been upon\nthese latter Years, was to make a strong Party among the Electoral\nPrinces, and by degrees secure a Majority in the Imperial Diet, in order\nto set aside the House of_ Austria, _and settle the Imperial Crown upon\nthe_ French _Line, as it was in the Beginning_. To this he added, _That\nthis invincible Monarch,_ Lewis XIV, _had made considerable Advances of\nlate Years, especially in bringing over several Electors, and now the\nChapter of_ Cologn _to chuse Cardinal_ Fustenberg _for their Archbishop,\nwho though a Native of Germany, yet was a_ Frenchman _by Interest_, and\n_had given his Word to be very Industrious in settling the Imperial\nDignity upon the House of_ Bourbon. _And this Election of Cardinal_\nFustenberg _being contested by the Emperor and Pope Innocent_ XI. _was\nthe Motive of the present War; for they put up the Duke of_ Bavaria's\n_Brother in opposition against him_.\nThis Account of the occasion of the present War, vary'd very much from\nthe Idea we in _Scotland_ had of Affairs. We were made to believe, That\nthe King of _France_ being a zealous Roman Catholick Monarch, had\nengag'd himself in a War against the Allies, meerly upon a Religious\nMotive, to re-establish King _James_, who was dethron'd upon no other\nAccount but because he was a Roman Catholick. But I have since found by\ncomparing Matters, that the Revolution in _England_ was not the\nOccasion, but the Consequence of the War between the _French_ and the\nAllies; for the Emperor, _&c._ understanding that King _James_ II. was\ndrawn into a Scrape by the _French_ King, and that he made a Property of\nhim to carry on his Ambitious Designs; 'tis not to be wonder'd at, if\nthey prefer'd the general Good of _Europe_, and immediate Safety of\ntheir own People to the private Good of King _James_ II, who had been so\nindiscreet as to expose himself to Ruin by giving into a _French_\nProject. However this unpolitick Management proved very lucky to\n_France_ upon a double Account; for tho' they had begun a War upon the\ndisedifying bottom of Ambition, it was afterwards consecrated in mny\nPeoples Thoughts, under a Colour of justifying a dethron'd Roman\nCatholick Prince, besides the Advantage of causing a considerable\nDiversion by fomenting a War in the Three Kingdoms of _Great-Britain_;\nfor as for re-establishing that unfortunate Prince in his Throne, though\nI was a long Time of Opinion _France_ really design'd it; yet since I\nhave been convinc'd by undeniable Arguments, that it neither was his\nInterest to bring it about, nor that he ever seriously attempted it. I\nmust own it was never very Intelligible to me, not even in my very\ndarkest State of Bigottry for the _French_ Interest, that the Emperor,\nthe King of _Spain_, and Duke of _Savoy_, with many other Roman\nCatholick Princes, nay, the Pope himself should all fail in their Duty\nand Zeal for Religion, and the King of _France_ (who was remarkable upon\nother Occasions for sacrificing it to Politick ends) should be the only\none in _Europe_ that wou'd stand up for it. It was not so in the Infancy\nof the _Dutch_ Republic, when _France_ concurr'd with the Seven\nProvinces to have them torn from the _Spanish_ Monarchy, and by the same\nAssistance, enabled 'em to make head against the Church. It was not so\nwhen a Frown of _Oliver Cromwell_ cou'd oblige _France_ to lay aside the\ncharitable Maxim of Royal Protection, and send _Charles_ II. and his\nBrother the Duke of _York_, out of their Territories by an Infamous\nCondescension. But _James_ II. had forgotten the Affronts offer'd to\nthe Duke of _York_, and I suppose had a Mind to make a second Tryal of\n_French_ Hospitality, and whether they would be more obliging to him in\nhis old Age, than they had been in his Youth. Neither is this plausible\nPretence of defending a Prince injur'd upon the Score of Religion, very\nconsistent with their Conduct, in regard of the _Turk_. To maintain a\nCatholick Prince at St. _Germains_, and support the Enemy of\nChristianity at _Constantinople_ with great Remittances of Moneys, and a\nconstant Supply of Engineers; is a piece of State Casuistry above my\nComprehension, and Prince _Eugene_ had a great deal of Reason to knock\nhis Breast, and hold up his Hands to Heaven, when he saw _French_\nEngineers dragg'd out of _Turkish_ Mines in _Hungary_ with _Agnus\nDei_'s, and Relicks about their Necks as Ensigns of _Lewis_ XIV's\nChristianity, and Zeal for the Church.\nBut to proceed to my own concerns. As soon as the Time was expir'd, I\npropos'd to my self to stay in the Academy at _Strasburgh_, I provided\nmy self with the Equipage of a grand Musketeer, and for a Present of 50\nPistols, and the strength of good Recommendation from my Countrymen, I\nwas admitted to ride among 'em. But here I had a fresh Difficulty to\nstruggle with. My Countrymen finding me pretty flush of Money, and that\nI was very generous, was as observant as a Spaniel, and so very\nOfficious both early and late, that I found it impracticable to steal an\nHour of Privacy to recollect my self, in order to model my Conduct after\nthe best Precedents I met with in the course of the Day; and what made\nme yet more uneasy, he was not content to visit me alone, but had often\na second or third with him; who as they were very obliging in informing\nme of the Methods of living in a Camp, so they was always very _adroit_,\nand gave me the Preference upon all Occasions; but then as I engross'd\nall the Ceremony of the Day, so I was thrown into unavoidable\nCircumstances of paying them for their Attendance. This constant Charge,\nthough in Time it would have made me weary of acting the Grand Signior,\nyet I could better have bore with it, had I not smelt a Design they had\nto strip me of my Bank I had at _Amsterdam_; for I was so unguarded in\nmy Conduct as to have acquainted my Countrymen with my Money concerns,\nwhich he and his Associates had already devour'd in their Imagination,\nand wanted but a fit Opportunity to draw me in at Play, and so at once\nput me upon a Level with themselves and other Soldiers of Fortune: But\nbeing aware of the Trap that was laid for me, my whole Study was how to\ndisengage myself from this Gang, so as to give no Suspicion that I\nunderstood their meaning; for this I imagin'd might be the ground of a\nQuarrel, and to perhaps have worse Consequences than if they really had\nstrip'd me of my Substance. Arm'd with this Caution, I receiv'd 'em in\nthe usual manner, but still kept off when a Motion was made either of\nhigh drinking or playing deep; for no Man is secure, when either Liquor\nor Passion gains the Ascendent over him. But this State of Violence\ncould not continue long, sometimes I was at a loss for an Excuse to\nbaffle their Importunity, other times I found them dispos'd to represent\nme as of an uncomplying Temper, so that there was no way left but either\nto draw or withdraw, for I saw plainly that if I staid among them a\nQuarrel would ensue. This Consideration, with the unheard of Devastation\nI saw in the Palatinate made by the _French_ Troops, gave me a Surfeit\nof the _Rhine_. I am not Ignorant that no Part of the World is free from\nSharpers, but I thought in another Place I might better resist their\nfirst Onset, and let them gain no ground upon me, while Rule I here\nneglected for want of Experience. And now I was oblig'd to make a Call\nupon my Banker at _Amsterdam_ for Two Hundred Pounds, resolving not to\nbreak the remaining 1000 Pound Bulk, unless upon some extraordinary\nEmergency. I had sometime before intimated to my Officers and Comrades\nthe Design I had to quit the Service upon the _Rhine_, assuring them it\nwas not out of any Disobligation, having experienced their obliging\nTemper upon all Occasions; but as I understood King _James_ was at the\nHead of his Army in _Ireland_, so I look'd upon my self in some Measure\ninexcusable if I serv'd in a foreign Army, when I might contribute more\nimmediately to succour my Prince. My Reasons were applauded, and I not a\nlittle content to depart without giving Disgust. Without delay therefore\nI posted to _Paris_, where I design'd to make no very long stay, only\nwhat was necessary to recover my self from the Fatigue of the Campaign,\nand satisfy my Curiosity in taking a View of that noble City. I was\nhappy in one thing during my stay here, that I was agreeably surpriz'd\nwith the fight of my only Sister, whose Husband being under some\nmalignant Court Influence, was oblig'd to withdraw with his Family out\nof _Scotland_. _Paris_ is a Place like all other great Cities, where\nPersons of all Conditions and Characters may spend their Time agreeably,\nif that useful Trifle call'd Money be not wanting. Hitherto I had no\noccasion to be Melancholly upon that Score; for though I was not\nfurnish'd to make any extraordinary Figure, yet being only a single\nPerson, and as yet never launch'd out into any Extravagances, so within\nmy narrow Sphere, I made a decent Appearance. But as no Man is\nprosperous at all Times, so it was not long before I found my self\nengag'd in an Affair which very much troubled my Repose, and which I\nwould willingly have compounded for with my _Amsterdam_ Bank. The\nBusiness was this, my Eldest Brother before he went with King _James_\ninto _Ireland_, made some stay at _Paris_ and _St. Germains_, where he\nwas order'd to collect some Recruits of the Three Nations, which he was\nto conduct over in the Quality of a Route-Captain. Now as he was a\nPerson who had seen very much of the World, and was somewhat addicted to\nGallantry and Intriguing with the Fair Sex, so he could not remain long\nin a Place without Publishing some Marks of his Vocation that way. It\nhappen'd that a young Lady who lodg'd in the same House with him, had\noccasion to pay a visit to her Acquaintance; my Brother observing her in\na Posture to go out of the House alone, offer'd to usher her to the\nplace she design'd for. The Lady with the usual _French_ Freedom and\nobliging Air, made him a Courtsey, and accepted the Offer. When he\ncomplied with this Piece of Civility, he took his leave, and return'd to\nhis Lodgings. From this Accident my Brother dated an Intrigue. The\nLadies Carriage (which by the way was nothing but what is customary\nthere upon a slender Acquaintance) encourag'd him to make Advances; the\nnext Step he made was to drink Tea with her in her Chamber, and\nafterwards he invited her to the _Opera_. But the young Lady as she was\nstrictly Virtuous, never gave way to none of these Freedoms, but in the\nCompany of her Landlady or her Daughter, who were both Prudes. In the\nmean time a Relation of this Gentlewoman's, who was a Lieutenant in the\nRegiment of _Navarre_ came up to _Paris_, and had not been long in Town\nbefore he was inform'd by some busy Noddle, that his Cousin was either\nupon the Point of being married, or what was rather suggested to him,\nthat one Captain _Ramkins_ a _Scotch_ Officer, who lodg'd in the same\nHouse, had dishonourable Designs upon her. Now as Persons never want\nArguments to induce them to take things in the worst Sense, (tho' I will\nnot avouch for my Brothers Intention) so the _French_ Officer being of a\nsuspicious and also a fiery Temper, wanted no body to exasperate him. He\ntook it for granted the Thing was so, and taking Coach he came to his\nKinswoman, and after having attack'd her with a great deal of scurrilous\nLanguage, he waited not for her Reply, but flung away to find my Brother\nin order to cut his Throat. My Brother was then at St. _Germains_\nreceiving his last Orders from the Secretary for his departure for\n_Ireland_, but return'd that Night to _Paris_. His Landlady at his\nReturn gave him a Note, which she said was deliver'd to her by the Post.\nThe Contents were a double Surprize to him, first a bold and daring\nChallenge, and again, he neither knew whom he was to meet, nor upon what\nAccount, only the Time and Place were mention'd. Thus doubtful with\nhimself what Course to take, he acquainted his Landlady with the Subject\nof the Letter, but she was also at a loss, having neither seen the\nLady's Relation, nor heard that he was come to Town, otherwise it might\nhave created some Suspicion. But after Supper, according to Custom, she\nwent up to have an Hours Chat with the young Lady, and among other\nThings, mention'd the odd Letter Captain _Ramkins_ had receiv'd that\nEvening; the Lady suspecting what the matter really was, gave the\nLandlady sufficient Intimation by the Consternation she was in, that she\nwas not unacquainted with the Occasion of that Letter. In the mean time,\nmy Brother was gone to consult with some of his Acquaintance how he\nshould behave himself in this juncture: Some advis'd him to neglect it\nas a sham Challenge, whereby some of his Acquaintance being merry\ndispos'd had a mind to divert themselves; others judg'd it might be a\nDesign to Assassinate him upon account of some old Grudge now worn out\nof his Memory; in conclusion, 'twas order'd that he should present\nhimself at the Place mention'd in the Challenge, and in case it was a\nreal Thing, and that he escap'd with Life, a Horse should be ready to\nride Post to _Brest_, whether he and his Recruits were order'd to take\nShipping. But that he might not Alarm his Lodgings, he spent the\nremainder of the Night in the Tavern with his Friends, a fitter\nPreparation than praying for the Work he was about. About Five in the\nMorning he set out towards the Place of Battle, half a dozen of his\nAcquaintance following him at a convenient distance, to wait for the\nIssue, and to see Justice done in case he was assaulted against the\nusual Method of Duelling. When he came to the Place apointed, he saw a\nyoung Gentleman walking and musing under a Hedge with his Arms a Kimbo,\nwhom he rightly judg'd to be his Man. When he came within Speech of him,\nthe _French_ Officer stop'd and ask'd him if his Name was not _Ramkins_,\nand whether he had not receiv'd a Note the Evening before upon such an\nOccasion? my Brother made no other Reply, but that he took himself to be\nthe Person, and that he would indite an Answer with the Point of his\nSword; for though, said he, I am a Stranger both to you and the occasion\nof this Trouble you have given me, yet as I take you to be a Man of\nHonour, so I suppose you think your self injur'd to that degree, that\nSatisfaction either cannot or will not be given any other way, and\ntherefore I am here ready to make up this mysterious Quarrel after the\nMethod you have made choice of. It sometimes happens that Peace is\nstruck up between Two Nations Sword in Hand; but my Brother's Antagonist\nwas too warm to stand a Parley and act the Part of a Plenipotentiary;\nupon which, without making the least Reply, he whips off his Cloaths\ninto his Shirt, and open'd his Breast to show his Adversary he scorn'd\nto take any ungenerous Advantage. My Brother was also honourable upon\nthe same score; for though he wore a short Buff Waiscoat without Skirts\naccording to the Fashions of those Times, and which might have deadened\na Push, yet he threw it off and put himself upon the Level with his\nAdversary in all respects, so to it they went. My Brother found himself\nmuch superior in Strength and Vigour, and that in all probability he\ncou'd Command his Adversary's Sword, paried with him a considerable\nTime, and put by several Pushes without attempting the Gentleman's Life,\nbut finding him Resolute, and that one of them must fall, he made one\nhome Thrust, and drove his Sword quite through his Adversary's Body,\nfalling upon him at the same time; and thus fell this unfortunate young\nGentleman a Victim to his ungovernable Passion.\nIt appear'd afterwards, that this _French_ Officer having been often\nplay'd upon by several in his Regiment, that he had been two Years among\nthem and never yet made any Experiment of his personal Courage, told\nthem at his going up to _Paris_, That they should here in a little Time\nhe had qualify'd himself by killing his Man. Now it is suppos'd he\nthought the _British_ Nation, not being fam'd for their Skill in\nhandling the Sword, he had an excellent opportunity of showing his\nManhood, and the Advantage of making his escape when he had done the\nFact, because little or no Enquiry wou'd be made after a Stranger. My\nBrother being convinc'd his Adversary was incapable to Rally, made haste\nto gather up his Cloaths, exchanging the Evangelical Advice of _burying_\nthe dead, to that natural Precept of _Self-preservation_, and I must\nleave him pursuing his Journey towards _Brest_, to return to his\nLodgings, and give an account how this Catastrophe came to affect me at\nmy coming to _Paris_.\nThe young Lady who was the Innocent occasion of this unfortunate\nAccident, took little Rest after she was inform'd of the Contents of the\nNote left by her Kinsman, and her Concern grew upon her when she\nunderstood Captain _Ramkins_ was out of his Lodgings all Night; thus she\nremain'd under great Inquietudes till Three a Clock the next Day, when\nshe, with her Landlady and Daughter, took a Coach privately and drove\ndirectly to the Place where the Gentlemen were to meet according to the\nContents of the Letter. They discharg'd their Coach upon a pretence of\ntaking a Walk in the Fields, and after a small Tour the Landlady's\nDaughter put her Foot into a Cake of clotted Blood, but it was so\nchang'd, as to the Colour, that she could not well distinguish what it\nwas, but at a little distance finding a Glove, and several Blades of\nGrass ting'd with a Vermillion Dye, being press'd down and ruffled as it\nwere with some Cattle weltring and tumbling about. They had a strong\nSuspicion one of the Gentlemen had ended his Days upon the Spot, and to\nclear their Suspicion, they walk'd back into the City till they arrived\nat the _Petite Chastelet_, which is a publick Room in the Nature of a\nGuard Bed, where all Corps are expos'd to view and whither People\nusually go in quest of any of their Friends, or Acquaintance that are\nwanting. And here the young Gentlewoman was quickly satisfy'd that her\nCousin's Rashness had brought him to his End. This Accident happening\nnot long before I came to _Paris_, the Discourse of it was very fresh,\nand what occasion'd me to have an account of it at my first Arrival, was\nmy Lodging at the same House with my Brother, it being the usual\nLodgings for _English_ and _Scotch_. 'Tis true that Landlady and her\nDaughter where remov'd to _Orleans_, where they had an _Estate_\nbelonging to their Family, but the young Lady, Cousin to the deceas'd\nOfficer, was still in her old Apartment. I had not been above three\nDays, but my Name began to be known as well by the Direction of some\nLetters I receiv'd out of _Germany_, as by other means there are of\nhaving such Things divulg'd. The young Lady was not so struck with the\nHorror of the Name of her Cousins Murtherer, as not to have the\nCuriosity to peep at me as I came in and out of my Lodgings, and the\nmore, because I had so great a Resemblance to him both as to Figure and\nFeatures, that without any extraordinary Skill in Physiognomy, she might\nconclude I was either his Brother or some near Relation. Now whether my\nBrother's Cavaliers Carriage had left an Idea in the Lady's Head which\nshe could not conveniently part with, or her Inquisitiveness after me\nwas only a Female Curiosity, I am not able to determine, but it was very\nunfortunate to me to have been so near a Kin to one she admired in case\nit was so, or that her Inquisitiveness should make me so publick; for I\nhad not been in _Paris_ above Eight Days, but the Archers or City Guards\ntook me out of my Bed at Four a Clock in the Morning, and carried me to\nPrison upon strong Suspicion of being that very Captain _Ramkins_ who\nhad kill'd the _French_ Officer in a Duel. Captain _Ramkins_ I certainly\nwas call'd at my own Request, having taken that Travelling Name as all\nIndependent Gentlemen do, who cannot tell well what Title to give\nthemselves upon the Road. My case had no very good Aspect at the\nbeginning. There were so many Circumstances to render me suspected, that\nthough I was satisfy'd my Life was not in Danger, yet it was an easy\nThing to perceive it wou'd be both a troublesome, and also a chargeable\nSpot of Work. The first Thing I did was to send for my Brother-in-law,\nwhom I employ'd as my Solicitor, to lay a true Narration of the Fact\nbefore the King's Attorney. My Counsel advis'd me to _Subpoena_ the\nyoung Lady, who wou'd be a material Witness that I was not the Captain\n_Ramkins_ chargeable with the Fact, which she seem'd willingly to\nacquiesce to; but some of the deceased Friends endeavour'd to invalidate\nher _Affidavit_, upon a pretence, that there was too great an Intimacy\nbetween her and Captain _Ramkins_. However, to put the Contest upon an\nIssue which would allow of no Reply, I procured the Testimonies of\nseveral Officers in the Army, that I was actually upon the _Rhine_ when\nthe Duel was fought at _Paris_, besides the corroborating Evidence of\nseveral _Irish_ Gentlemen who liv'd in _Paris_ and at _St. Germains_,\nwho were ready to offer their Oaths I was not the Man. 'Tis incredible\nto think what Pains the deceas'd Gentleman's Relations took to destroy\nme, though I have the Charity to think they judg'd I was the Person they\nsought after, though it is somewhat unintelligible they wou'd not Credit\nthe young Lady their Cousin. This Affair help'd me off with the greatest\nPart of my ready Money, for 'tis a Blessing which attends all Law-Suits,\nthat the Gainer is oblig'd to refund to the Lawyers what he recovers\nfrom his Adversary, and for my part, I pay'd pretty dear for an\nAuthentick Copy of my Innocence; and the Carriage of the Court to me was\nsuch, as if I had been particularly favour'd in not being hang'd instead\nof my Brother.\nAfter this troublesome Business was over, I began to enjoy my self a\nlittle in the Diversions of _Paris_; and by the Assistance of my\nBrother-in-law, I had a good Guide in him to view several of the\nCuriosities that City abounds with, though I cannot say I took any\nextraordinary relish that way, for my Thoughts being chiefly upon War, I\ndigested other Matters as a nice Appetite does improper Food. It was my\nIntention to go over to _Ireland_, and to made that undertaking less\nchargeable to me, I endeavour'd to procure a Commission, which was no\ndifficult matter at that Time, especially to one who was provided with a\nlittle Money to facilitate the Grant. I did not stick much upon the\nNature of the Commission, for my Years, and small Experience could make\nno very extraordinary Demands; so I was Registred as a Lieutenant, which\nI, according to the usual Custom, upon receival dexterously improv'd\ninto Captain. Indeed I had very lofty Expectations, and the Affairs of\nKing _James_ went so well at that time in _Ireland_, that there was not\na Footman who follow'd that Prince, but look'd upon his Fortune as made.\nThese Considerations put me and some others upon a Project of\ntransporting our selves to the _North_ of _England_, where King _James_\nhad a very strong Party, and we were inform'd that immediately upon the\nReduction of _Ireland_, as before, the whole Strength of his Army wou'd\npower in upon _England_ that way. A Day was fix'd to put my Design in\nExecution, but falling into Discourse a little after with a Person of\nExperience, he intimated that the Business wou'd not be so near over in\n_Ireland_ as I imagin'd; for I can assure you, says he, Three Expresses\nhave arrived lately at _Versailles_, to solicit the _French_ Court for\nCannon and Ammunition, without which it wou'd be impossible for King\n_James's_ Forces to become Masters in _Ireland_, but that the _French_\nwere so dilatory in this Affair upon some Politick Views, that it was\ngreat Odds that Nation wou'd be quickly recover'd by King _William_'s\nForces. This was a misterious Insinuation to one of my small Experience,\nfor my shallow Brain told me, Expedition was the Business of War;\nwhereas I found afterwards it was the Interest of _France_ to spin on\nthe _Irish_ War, and to order Things so, that King _William_ should\nalways have an Army employ'd there; for they look'd upon it as a\nChimerical Notion, that the War could be carry'd on into _England_, or\nthat an _Irish_ Army was capable to reduce _England_; for _France_ knew\nvery well their own Designs of not intending to send any _French_ Troops\nto joyn them in _England_.\nI own I never entirely forgot the Reflexion that Gentleman made upon the\npresent Posture of Affairs; but yet I cannot say I assented to his\nOpinion, however, it wrought so much upon me as to alter my Resolutions\nof going directly into the _North_ of _England_; for I govern'd my self\nby this Dilemma, that in Case _Ireland_ was not reduc'd till I came\nthere, I might have the Opportunity of having a share in the Reduction,\nbut if it was, the Passage between the _North_ of _Ireland_ and\n_England_ was very short. Upon this Bottom I began my Journey, I took\nShipping at _Brest_ and landed at _Cork_, pursuing the rest of my\nJourney by Land, upon account of the Danger I was inform'd of in going\nby Sea; for that several _English_ Men of War guarded the narrow Seas\nbetween _Dublin_ and _Holy-head_. When I came into King _James_'s Army,\nmy first Enquiry was after my Brother, whom you may be sure I\nentertain'd in the first place with the Consequence of his Duel at\n_Paris_; and though he often sigh'd to reflect upon his Misfortune in\nbeing the occasion of the _French_ Officer's Death, which might have\nbeen honourably avoided; yet he laugh'd plentifully, when he heard the\nPart I had afterwards in that Melancholy Farce; and rally'd me home when\nI insisted upon Charges and desired to be reimburs'd with Sixty _Louis\nd'Ors_, which that Affair had cost me upon his Account; all the\nSatisfaction I could get was, that he thought I put a greater Value upon\nmy being his Brother, than to think it over-rated at that trifling Sum:\nThe Life of a Brother, said he, is the only thing that can answer for a\nBrotherly Affection.\nThe Scene of Affairs in _Ireland_ was very much alter'd upon raising the\nSiege of _London-derry_; Men and Arms were imported from _England_ on\nall Sides to make Head against King _James_, and several bloody\nSkirmishes happen'd in several Parts of the Kingdom. It wou'd make a\nVolume to account the Marches and Counter-marches both Parties made in\nthat irregular Country to attack and avoid one another. But where ever\nit was my Lot to engage, the general Complaint was a want of Money,\nAmmunition and Arms; this (as it cou'd not be otherwise) made us\nunsuccessful under many promising Advantages. We had Men enough, and\nthose not destitute of Zeal or Courage; but to expose themselves Naked\nagainst Arms and Discipline, was a desperate way of Engaging. But\n_France_ still went upon the old Politick Scheme to gain Advantages upon\nthe Continent by dilatory Proceedings in King _James_'s Affairs; for\nunless this was their Prospect, was it not a supine Piece of Management\nto suffer a Body of near Thirty Thousand brave Men to lie unarm'd in the\nField above half a Year, when _France_ had Magazines and Stores to\nfurnish above a Million of Soldiers? But as King _James_ was not only to\nbe the _Dupe_ of their great Monarch, but the Sport and Game of his\nMinisters, besides a general Topick of refusing him an Assistance upon\nthe Politick Motive of prolonging the War. It seems the Chief Minister\nof State had some private Ends in these dilatory Proceedings, and King\n_James_'s Cause in _Ireland_ was also to be sacrific'd to this\nGentleman's Resentments. The Case was this, _Lewis_ XIV upon great\nImportunity, and to put a Gloss upon, and lay deep Colours upon his\nPoliticks, condescended so far, as to order five or six Thousand\ndespicable Foot Soldiers for King _James_'s Service in _Ireland_, with a\nGeneral at their Head, who had been more accustom'd to lead up a Country\nDance than an Army, and better qualify'd to break a Jest than look in\nupon an Enemy. This General, however, was according to King _James_'s\nown liking, though contrary to the Chief Minister's Design, who wanted\nthat Post for a Relation of his own. This undesign'd Affront of King\n_James_ in preferring _C.L._ to the Minister's Favourite, lost the\nBattle of the _Boyne_, and perhaps all _Ireland_; for the Chief Minister\nwould neither send Arms nor Money to supply that brave Body of Men, but\nthrew them into the Circumstances of either dying unreveng'd, or saving\ntheir Lives by Flight. The History of that Battle has so many Eye\nWitnesses still alive for me to dwell upon it; I shall only make bold to\nrelate what my Fate was upon that unfortunate Day, and how inglorious\n_France_ withdrew the sham Succours they sent _King_ James. My Post was\nto Head a Company of _Fingalian_ Granadiers, who were plac'd in an\nOrchard which hung over a Defilee, through which we expected the Enemy\nwould march after they had pass'd the River. I make bold to stile my\nCompany Granadiers, because they were design'd to be so when first\nrais'd, but were now arm'd rather like Pioneers than Grenadiers; we had\nnot above a dozen Granadoes, no Bayonets, and several without any\nFire-arms; and if the Chief Men of the Action were no better equipp'd,\n'tis easy to guess how the Gross of the Army was provided. According to\nour Expectation, a Party of the Enemy fell into the Trap, and what Shot\nwe had, we let it successively fly at them out of the Orchard; in the\nmean time, we heard a great Noise behind us, and turning my self about,\nI saw the Orchard almost surrounded with Horse, which I expected were\nsome of our own Party coming up to support us, but found them to be a\nSquadron of the Enemy, who immediately summon'd us to yield, or we must\nexpect the last Fate of War. There was no time to Parley, upon which I\nmade a Sign to the Commanding Officer of the Enemy not to proceed to\nSlaughter, and so out of Twenty Two Men with which I defended that Post,\nNine of us fell into the Enemies Hands, the rest dying bravely in the\nEngagement. Our Entertaintment was what is usually with Prisoners of\nWar, Hunger and hard Lodgings, but in a little Time being remov'd to\n_Dublin_, Things were better with me; I had the Liberty of a large\nPrison and civil Usage. And here it was I met with an excellent Friend,\nwho never fail'd those who make Application to him, I mean a small Bank\nof Money which my Brother left me, and which I had sent to _Dublin per_\nBill from _Newry_, that I might run no hazard of being plunder'd in case\nof a Defeat, and in this I have often applauded my own Caution, that\nthough I have frequently hazarded my Life, I never risqu'd my Substance;\nif Death happen'd, I was certain of being provided for; and if\nImprisonment, I had what wou'd make my Captivity easy, and perhaps,\npurchase my Enlargement.\n'Tis not a being in a Battle that makes a Person a capable Judge how to\ndescribe it; every Officer has his Post which he must not depart from,\nand though he may be able to describe the Situation of the Troops before\nan Engagement, yet afterwards during the Fight, there is so much Noise,\nSmoak and Confusion, that for my part, I scarce can give a true\nNarration of what happen'd within a dozen Yards compass. Upon this\nAccount, I cannot tell in what manner the _French_ Troops behav'd\nthemselves, but I was inform'd they made a tollerable Stand against King\n_William_'s Army, but that they quickly chang'd it into a running Fight,\nand very dexterously convey'd both King _James_ and themselves out of\nDanger, and in a little time out of the Kingdom, directing their March\nto the next Seaport Town, which was not in the Enemies Hands, from\nwhence they found their way Home. If these Troops were serviceable at\nthe _Boyne_, they certainly might have been much more useful, if they\nhad remain'd and assisted the _Irish_ the remainder of the War; but they\nhad shown themselves, and that was enough to answer the politick Ends\nfor which they were sent. 'Tis suppos'd after this Defeat at the\n_Boyne_, that King _James_ was aware of the _French_ Politics, and so\nwould ne'er think of returning in Person again into _Ireland_, it being\nabundantly sufficient if he left two or three active Generals among 'em\nto Alarm the Enemy and do the Drudgery of the _French_ Court, in making\na Diversion to favour his Conquests in other Parts of the World. But to\nreturn to the Series of my own Story, I had now obtain'd Liberty of the\nCity of _Dublin_ upon Paroll, and spent my Life pretty agreeable,\nespecially when I understood that a kind of a Cartel was fix'd, and\nthere was no Danger of a Halter. My long stay in _Dublin_ brought me\nacquainted with several General Officers of King _William_'s Army, who\nwere my Countrymen and well acquainted with my Family. The great Respect\nthey showed me, was, as I perceiv'd at long run, in order to debauch me\nfrom King _James_'s Service; but it was not in my power at that time, to\nremove the Scruples I was entangled in as to the Revolution; besides I\nhad other Motives urgent enough not to engage in the _English_ Service,\ntill I had seen a little more Abroad. But in the midst of all the\nDisasters I met with, nothing affected me with a more sensible Grief\nthan the Thoughts of _Lewis_ the XIVth's Insincerity, for though it only\nrid my Mind in the Nature of a Scruple or first Impression, yet I found\nit grow daily more and more upon me, and often in the height of my\nDiversions it lay upon my Stomach like an indigested Meal; yet at the\nsame time I durst not mutter the least of this Matter to the greatest\nConfident I had in the World; for I was sensible what would be the\nConsequence of such a Liberty of Speech, and that nothing less than\nperpetual Imprisonment in the _Bastile_ must have atton'd for the Crime,\nand that King _James_ wou'd have look'd upon himself as oblig'd to have\njustify'd the Conduct of _France_, though perhaps he lay under the same\nJealousies with myself in regard of _French_ Politics. How often have I,\nwhen I have been alone, exaggerated my Folly in engaging in a Cause,\nwhich the principal Agent never design'd to bring to an Issue? but then\nagain I have corrected my self for giving way to a false Impression, and\ncondemning the Conduct of so many Thousands who had more Experience than\nI could lay claim to, and yet willingly went all the Lengths of the\n_French_ Court. Now as I always had a great Respect for Men of Years and\nExperience, so I was resolv'd to silence all the Scruples relating to\n_French_ Politicks, and see an end of the _Irish_ War, not so much under\nthe Influence of a _French_ Power (which never did any real Service to\nKing _James_ in _Ireland_) but because so many worthy Gentlemen eagerly\npursue the Cause, whom I had Reason to think were better Judges of such\nhigh Matters than my self. And what in the next place I was to\nundertake, was how to be releas'd from my Confinement, in which I cou'd\nfind no Difficulty besides a breach of Paroll, my Person being every Day\nat Liberty, but understanding that several Persons in the same\nCircumstances with my self, were partly conniv'd at when they made their\nEscape. I took the same Method, and rather chose to walk off, than wait\nto be exchang'd, or Bribe for my Enlargement. Perhaps the Reader will\nexpect here to be entertain'd with the remaining Part of the _Irish_\nWar, especially where I was employ'd; but he must be content to be\ninform'd in General, That as I made it a Law with my self ne'er to omit\nany Occasion of improving my self in the Art of War, so I took\nparticular care not to be upon any Foreign Duty in the Day of Action. I\nwas wounded at the Battle of _Aghram_, where I had one of my Legs broke,\nand lost two Fingers with the cut of a Sabre. I was at the first Siege\nof _Limerick_, and help'd to surprize the Enemy's flying Camp and\nProvisions they were carrying to supply the main Army that was carrying\non the Siege. Afterwards I entred the Town, and remain'd there during\nthe Siege, having the Liberty to pass over into _France_ with the rest\nof the _Irish_ Troops upon the Articles of _Limerick_; but there was one\nremarkable Passage happen'd to me during the Siege of that Town, which I\ncannot dispense with my self to pass over in Silence; it was rather a\ncasual Matter, than a Design laid, however it equally answer'd the end.\nAt one of the Sallies, in which we design'd to overthrow a Mount they\nhad made to raise a Battery upon, after a smart Engagement, it being in\nthe Night, I had the opportunity to step aside and strip a _Dutch_\nGranadier, and immediately putting on his Cloaths I mingled my self with\nthe Enemy's Battalions as they drew back towards their Camp, thus\nunperceiv'd I had the opportunity the next Morning to view their Works\nand make my Remarks. But now I was somewhat at a loss how to make a hand\nof this Stratagem and get back into the Town, nor was I less concern'd\nhow to avoid being discover'd as not belonging to the Enemy; but the\nConfusion they were in the next Day in burying their Dead and repairing\ntheir Works, made me pass undiscover'd till Night, so about Nine at\nNight when it was throughly dark, I stole to that Side of the Town which\nlies next to the Sea, and swimming over undiscover'd, I crept under the\nWall, and calling softly upon the next Centinel, I inform'd him who I\nwas, bidding him call to the Captain of the next Guard, and bring a Rope\nand two or three Soldiers to hall me up. I was very welcome to the\nGarrison, for 'twas suppos'd, I was either kill'd or taken Prisoner in\nthe Sally. This Stratagem, though I had no Design in it at our attacking\nthe Enemy, it being only a sudden Thought, yet it had a very good Event;\nfor the next Sally we made, as I had observ'd, the weakest Part of the\nBesiegers Works, so I lead a Party of Resolute Men that way, who lost no\nTime, but levell'd all their Works, and dragg'd a considerable Booty\ninto the Town.\nThe Wars of _Ireland_ being at an End, and the Articles of _Limerick_\nSign'd, about 15000 regular Troops were Transported into _France_,\nbesides several Thousands of others, who all proved as useful to the\nMonarch of _France_ in his Wars in _Italy, Spain, Germany, &c._ as they\nhad been in making a Three Years Diversion in _Ireland_, so happy was\n_France_ in making a Politick use of King _James's_ Misfortune, that\n_Lewis_ XIV was much a greater Gainer by his being Banish'd, than if he\nhad remain'd in the quiet Possession of his Throne. And now there were\nseveral Speculations, what Method the _French_ King wou'd take to make\nthe World believe he had a Design to reinstall King _James_. The most\ndirect Means was to attempt a Descent, but this was impracticable by the\nway of _Ireland_; for if an Army of 30000 Men cou'd not keep it when\nthey were actually in Possession of it, there was no likelyhood of their\nsucceeding in a Descent, nor was it probable, that _France_ would add\nmore Force to them who had so often refus'd them when they were in\nCircumstances to receive. The most favourable Interpreters of the\n_French_ King's Politicks, began now to think he had laid all Thoughts\nof a Restoration aside. King _James_'s Troops were employ'd and\nscatter'd where they were useless upon that Design, and his Court was\nmodell'd, as if nothing more should be attempted. However it was thought\nconvenient still to carry the Juggle on, and several Methods were made\nuse of to seduce the poor Jacobites in _England_ and _St. Germains_,\nthat their Work was still going on. Great Respect was shown to the Court\nof _St. Germains_ by his Most Christian Majesty, with repeated\nAssurances to stand by them: In the mean time I was permitted to leave\nthe Army, and solace my self for two or three Months at _Paris_, where,\nby the Assistance of my old Friend ready Money, I made my self very\nacceptable. It was my Happiness hitherto never to be engaged in an\nIntrigue with the Fair Sex; for though several of my Station have\ndiverted themselves that way with much prejudice to their Business, yet\nI was always so bent upon War, that I cou'd never find spare Hours for\nsuch trifling Conversation, for that was the Notion I had of it. A\ngeneral Whining and Pining away for a Trolloping Girl, was to me a very\nawker'd and inconsistent Piece of Pageantry; however, I had been often\ntold by Persons of Experience, that no Man had so just an Idea of the\nWorld, as he that had been well hamper'd and sower'd by a Love Intrigue;\nfor though Women appear to be only Spectators, and to bear no Sway in\nthe Politicks of the World, yet underhand, the Fate of Kingdoms often\nhung at their Girdles, and the wisest of Princes often hazarded the\nRepose of his People for an Hours Dalliance with some Coquet and\ndiverting Creature of the fair Sex. I cannot tell well how it happen'd,\nbut I suppose by not resisting the first impressions of this kind, I\nfound my self far gone in an Intrigue, and that without either Thought\nor Design; but I understood afterwards that a Breach of Idleness being\nespy'd in my Conduct, the Roving Deity seiz'd the Advantage and enter'd\nSword in Hand. The Gentlewoman who drew me into this Snare, was no\notherwise my Acquaintance than by an accidental Visit; but I was so much\na Philosopher, as to know that where there is a Sympathy of Humours, all\nother Considerations are neglected, and a _Turk_ with those Advantages,\nis as capable to make a Conquest as a _Christian_. I had at my first\nentrance upon the Stage of the World made a double Promise to my self,\nthe one was never to hearken to a Love Affair till I had acquired a\nStock of Experience, and Money to make that Passion Serviceable and of\nreal Use in an honourable Way; the other was not to graft upon a Foreign\nStock; but I was forc'd to humble my self under a violation of both\nthese Purposes; for the Object of my Passion was a _Spanish_ young Lady\nthough of _Irish_ Extraction, her Family Transporting themselves\nthither about the middle of Queen _Elizabeth_'s Reign. Now I had two or\nthree Difficulties to struggle with relating to this Affair: in the\nfirst place, I had not as yet imparted the Secret to the young Lady;\nagain, my Brother's Example gave me grounds to think I cou'd not avoid a\nQuarrel with some of her Relations; but what chiefly frighted me, was\nthe Plague of Wedding, in case we were both of a Mind, for a keen Hound\nis not easily call'd off from a hot Scent, till he has either caught or\nlost his Game. In the midst of these Perplexities, I judg'd 'twou'd be a\nwise Part to disclose my self to some Persons of Experience in these\nMatters; for in all the Skirmishes and Sieges I had been at, they never\nthrew me into such a Consternation and Absence of Thought; and\naccordingly I met with an old Adept in these Affairs. When he heard my\nCase, after two or three Turns he approach'd me with the serious Air of\na Physician, and I thinking he had Design to feel my Pulse, I offer'd\nhim my Hand, which he only shook very gently, saying, Young Man, all the\nComfort I can give you is, that you must buy your Knowledge by\nExperience as I and many others have done before you. All Advice is lost\nupon a Person in Love. Should I advice you to quit the Enterprize, I\nknow you would not do it. A Halter or an _East-India_ Voyage may do you\nService in Case you are refused. In a Word, whatever I advised you to\nyou will certainly do the contrary; However, that you may be said to\nhave lost your Time in coming hither, hasten to the young Lady, tell her\nin a Franck Cavalier way how Things are with you; give all the vent you\ncan to your Passion; if it blows over, you will be a wary Man hereafter,\nif it ends in Wedlock, any Body will inform you of the Consequences.\nWhile the old Gentleman was entertaining me with this Lesson, my Head\ngrew so dizy, as if some invisible Hand had turn'd it round like a Gigg,\nso I left him abruptly, and went directly to my Lodgings to Bed, but to\nthis Day I cannot tell, whether I went a Foot or in a Coach my Head was\nin such a Confusion. The next Morning finding my ideas better rang'd, I\npropos'd to seize the first Opportunity to let the Lady understand the\nDifficulties I struggled under upon her Account; but the Nature of our\nVisits was such, that I cou'd not do it any otherwise than by Letter:\nThus when I had once broke the Ice, and that too with a fair Prospect\nof making Advances, in the next Place I gain'd the Maid by the usual\nMethods that such Creatures are render'd Obsequious, and under her\nConduct methoughts I sail'd prosperously on without the least Rub to my\nsuppos'd Happiness; 'tis true I was at a constant Charge of Presents,\nTreats, and now and then a Serenade according to the _Spanish_ Customs.\nBut I remember at one of these Midnight Scenes of Gallantry, I saw\nsomething that gave me a great deal of Uneasiness; drawing up my Musick\nunder the Lady's Window, besides her Face, which was at the Casement\nwide open, I saw the Reflexion of a Periwig move towards the Corner of\nthe Window; this made me vehemently suspect somebody had a better place\nin her Affections than my self, for there was no Male kind belonging to\nthe Family, her Father and Brother, as she told me at other Times, being\nin _Spain_, to take care of some Effects they expected by the Flota from\nthe _West Indies_. However, I endeavour'd to smother this Impression of\nJealousy, attributing the Mistake to the Circumstances of Night, Candle\nLight, or some other false Medium that might ground it, so I was\nresolv'd to take no notice of it at my next Visit. But it was not long\nbefore I met with another Occasion of Jealousy, which cou'd not so\neasily be banish'd out of my Head. Sitting in the Chocolate House, a\nyoung Gentleman was giving himself Airs with a Snuff-box, which to my\nEye (and it was my Interest to observe it very narrowly) appear'd to be\nthe very same I had some time before presented the Lady with, and as an\naggravating Circumstance, in taking Notice of the Gentleman's Periwig,\nit had the same Form with the Reflexion I saw up in the Lady's Chamber\nWindow, _vid_. a flat Top, neither rais'd nor parted in the Middle,\nwhich spoke it to be a Piece of _English_ Furniture. The Sight of the\nsnuff-box drew all my Blood into my Heart, and left my pale Cheeks to\naccount for the Consternation, wherefore not able to contain my self had\nI kept my Ground, I flung out of the Chocolate House, not unobserv'd by\nthe Company to be in some Disorder; but when they look'd out of the\nWindow and saw me stand gazing in the middle of the Street, (for my\nMotion thither was purely Animal, having no thought whither I was going)\nit encreas'd their Surprise. However, at three Steps I was got again\ninto the Chocolate House, and with a galliard Air, addressing my self\nto the Gentleman with the Snuff box, _Sir_, said I, _I confirm the Gift,\nand may all sniffling Fools that are in Love be serv'd like me_. I\nallow'd no Time for a Reply, but bolting again into the Street, it came\ninto my Head that perhaps two Snuff-boxes might be so much alike, as not\nto observe the difference without confronting 'em. This Thought gave me\na Curiosity to step into a Toyshop, where I desired to have a Sight of\nthe newest fashion'd Snuff-boxes, and when among others, I saw above\nhalf a Dozen exactly like that I had made the Lady a Present of, a\nSecret Confusion spread it self over my Soul to have given way to such\nSuspicions. The Matyrdom accustom'd by such like Thoughts as these being\nthe usual Entertainment of Persons in my Condition, and I having read in\nseveral Moralists, _That there can be no true Love without a Mixture of\nJealousy, which two rose proportionably, and that Jealousy was the\ngreatest Plague of Human Life_. These Considerations, I say, made me\nStruggle hard to throw off the Tyranny I groan'd under, and it happen'd\nvery luckily for me that within a few Days after the young Lady was sent\nfor into _Spain_, so that I had in Election either to throw up all my\nExpectations in _France_, and follow her, or Moralize a Week or two;\nupon the Disappointment, and so recover my self again to my Senses,\nwhich I quickly did by spending my Time in a Treatise of Algebra and\nFortifications. As for the Lady she parted without any Reluctance, and\nit mortify'd me sensibly, that what I had made a Study and Business of,\nwas only her Diversion and Amusement; but I kept my Resolution never\nmore to divert my self that way, till I was effectually tramell'd.\nAnd now I was preparing to visit _Italy_, where some of the _Irish_\nForces were then employ'd, and my Company expected me; but before I set\nout, I had a mind to inform my self better of a certain Report wisper'd\nat _St. Germains_, That in a little Time King _James_ would make another\nPush, and that a Descent in _England_ was certainly in Agitation. Now I\nwas at a Loss how to be truly inform'd of this Matter; the King's Fleet\nrendevouzing upon the Coast of _Normandy_, and several Battalions\nmarching that way, look'd something like a Descent, but this was not\nsufficient to convince me, who knew that such Alarms were often given\nupon a quite different Score, to what the Generality of People had in\nView. However, the _French_ laid strong Colours upon this Preparative;\nfirst they gave out, That they had bribed most of the _English_ Fleet,\nso there wou'd be no Danger from that Quarter nor Body to oppose the\nDescent; again, King _James_ set forth a solemn Manifesto, inviting all\nhis Subjects to rise and take Arms, granting an Amnesty only to such as\nwere specify'd in his Proclamation, and to put the last Stroke to this\nMaster-piece of Policy; the King himself was perswaded to appear at the\nHead of some Troops upon the Coast of _Normandy_. The Pill thus guilded,\nwas swallow'd by every Body; I own I was my self charm'd with the Beauty\nof the Project, and it look'd so like the dawning of a Restoration, that\nI was resolv'd to make Interest with our General, that I might not\nreturn to my Company upon the Borders of _Italy_; but rather accompany\nmy Prince, and contribute more immediately to conclude the happy Work.\nWhile these Matters were in Agitation, I had an Invitation to see the\nPalace and Gardens of St. _Clou_, from an old Acquaintance, whom I knew\nan Officer upon the _Rhine_, but now was one of the Duke of _Orlean_'s\nSecretaries. This Gentleman, as we walk'd in St. _Clou_'s Gardens, being\ninquisitive how I had spent my Time since our last parting, and how my\nAffairs stood at present, I gave him a short Narration of my Travels and\nActions, telling him I was now a Captain of Foot, and had a Promise of a\nLieutenant Colonels Commission the next Vacancy, but that I design'd to\nthrow up my Pretensions, and accompany King _James_. The Gentleman\nsurpriz'd at what I said, I suppose Sir, said he, you must have a fair\nProspect of a Place at Court to put it at Ballance with a Lieutenant\nColonels Commission, and then turning his Discourse into Raillery, or\nperhaps says he, you are so taken with the beautiful Enclosures of\n_Normandy_, as to think a Tour in that Country will recompence all other\nLosses. No Sir, said I, but I am in hopes, that as I am one who have\nbeen useful to his Majesty in several Capacities, so being near his\nPerson in the Descent, if it prove Successful, as no Body seems to\nquestion, so I shall be more in his Majesty's Eye, and in fairer\nProspect of climbing, than if I were doing him Service at a Distance.\nWell, Sir, said he, I am sorry our former Intimacy does oblige me to use\nthe Freedom of disabusing you of this vulgar Error of most of King\n_James_'s Subjects. I cannot blame them for being desirous to return\nHome, but they are so Infatuated in their Zeal that way, that they\nimagine every Step our Monarch takes, tends immediately towards their\nMaster's Restoration; believe me, old Friend, Kings have commonly long\nHeads, and 'tis well known _Lewis_ XIV has led all _Europe_ through so\nmany Politick Mazes for these Forty or Fifty Years, that he never lets\nany Body know he is doing a Thing till 'tis in a manner done. All\nMasters in Politicks look one way and Row another. I own the\nPreparatives upon the Coast of _Normandy_ look like a Descent, but there\nare false Attacks upon Kingdoms as well as upon Towns: You are not\nIgnorant that King _William_ is now at the Head of a powerful Army in\n_Flanders_, and that our King is not so well provided there as he\nexpected; Now if King _William_ receives the Reinforcement he expects\nout of _England_ and _Scotland_, it will give him that Superiority, that\n_France_ will not be able to make the last stand on that Quarter; so\nthat 'tis no Secret for us at _Versailles_, that all this Alarm of a\nDescent upon _England_, is a meer blind to make a Diversion, and to\nhinder the Transportation of the _British_ Forces. But you Jacobites and\n_English_ are so ragingly dispos'd, to give every Thing a favourable\nturn towards King _James_'s Cause, that I have frequently observ'd,\nthere can scare be two Men of War sent out of any Port of _France_, let\nit be towards the _Indies, Mediterranean_, or other Places, but you make\na Descent of it. But as I insinuated Sir, I am glad I have the\nOpportunity to set you to Rights as to this Affair, that you may not\nrisque a seeming promising Fortune, by catching a Shadow. The Thoughts\nof having King _James_ made such a Tool of, would not permit me\nimmediately to be civil to the Gentleman, and return him Thanks for the\nseasonable Advice; however, after I had recollected my self, I did my\nDuty in that Respect: But the Idea he gave me of his Masters Politicks\nleft a Deep Resentment on my Soul. Afterwards, as I return'd to _Paris_,\nI ruminated upon this Subject, and I saw a thousand Contradictions and\nImprobabilities in the pretended Descent. The Troops design'd for this\nBusiness was very few, and the worst in _France_; the King's own\nSubjects were not to be employ'd, unless a few Straglers; besides there\nwere no Transportships, nor in fine, any Thing that look'd like an\nAttempt to Conquer three Potent Kingdoms. King _William_ had in a\nmanner the whole Kingdom in his Design at his Descent, he also had the\n_English_ Army secur'd to him, he brought over 15000 Veterans in a Fleet\nof 600 Sail, but this sham Descent was destitute of all these\nAdvantages. I don't question but _Lewis_ XIV, as he proposed an End in\nthis Politick Amusement, so it answer'd accordingly; but as for poor\nKing _James_, I know no Benefit either He or his Friends reap'd from it,\nbesides the Fatigue of a _Norman_ Progress, and having all the Jacobites\nin _England_ imprison'd, fin'd, and plunder'd; so that to gain a few\nAcres of Land to _France_, _England_ must be exasperated to let all the\nLaws loose upon both Protestants and Roman Catholicks that were\nWell-wishers to King _James_. And yet though the French Court obtain'd\ntheir Ends in one Respect, they suffer'd from the Hand of Providence in\nanother. I wou'd not be thought to pry with too much Curiosity into the\nhidden Paths of Providence, otherwise I should be apt to judge that the\nDestruction of the _French_ Fleet at the _Hague_, look'd somewhat like a\nJudgment from Heaven for amusing an unfortunate Prince with a false\nProspect of Happiness, and yet that loss has been sometimes objected to\nKing _James_, as marr'd upon his Account, so dextrous are the _French_\nin turning Things to their own Credit.\nAfter this you may well imagine I took a new Resolution not to part with\nthe Prospect I had of making my Fortune in the Post I was in, joyning\nCompany therefore with three or four more Officers who belong'd to the\nsame Army in which I serv'd, we set out with all Expedition. I don't\nremember to have been better diverted upon the Road, since I first knew\nwhat it was to Travel; one of our Company was a _Provincial_, and the\nvery Quintessence of Wit and Gaiety. There was not the most trivial\nOccurrence but he dexterously made use of it to divert us, particularly\nat a small Village within a Days Journey of _Lions_. The Bailiff of the\nVillage coming to our Inn to gather a kind of Tax (as it happen'd to be\na Day pitch'd upon for that end) for the Relief of the Poor, the\n_Provincial_ Gentleman being deputed, the Steward of our Company, fell\ninto some Discourse with the Bailiff in the Kitchin. Among other Things,\nthe Bailiff being mellow, gave him to understand, that though his Mien\nand Equipage was not extraordinary, yet he was the Chief Man in the\nTown, and immediately represented the King's Majesty, so that if any of\nthe Company were of Quality, it was his Business to show them that\nRespect which was due to them. The _Provincial_ had a good Cue to give\nus a Comical Scene, which all was contriv'd upon the Spot, to drive away\na deep Melancholy from one of our Company, who had not spoke a Word in\ntwo Days. With that he took the Bailiff aside, Sir, said the Person, we\nall attend here on the Prince of ---- Eldest Son, who is going to Travel\ninto _Italy_. Had there been a Garison here, it ought to have been drawn\nup at his Entrance, and the Keys of the Town deliver'd to him; but since\nyou are not so provided, you may exert yourselves as much as you can; I\nsuppose you have Musick in the Town? yes Sir said the Bailiff, we have\nthree Violins, a grand Bass, and a Citherne. Do you never exhibit any\nPlays says the _Provincial_, or other Antick Performance? No replies the\nBailiff, but we have a Sport that comes very near it, which we entertain\nthe Country with twice a Year, _viz_. at _Easter_ and _Whitsunday_, and\nthe Parts are now fresh in the Actors Memory. This will do says the\n_Provincial_, but see all Things are ready to give the Young Prince the\nDiversion immediately after Supper, because he durst not sit up very\nlate. As for the Prologue, wherein you are to Address your selves to his\nHighness, I will furnish you with the Method and Form in which it must\nbe spoke by the School-master of the Town. Now all this was carried on\nin Privacy from us, tell we were call'd out one by one, all excepting\nthe Chagrin Gentleman, who lay dozing in an two arm'd Chair, to whom we\nwere instructed to pay a singular Respect to during Supper, to blind the\nMatter. And now the whole Village was drawn about the Inn, to have a\nSight of the young Prince. After Supper all the Tables and Chairs were\nremov'd; the Bailiff enters with his Staff, and according to Information\ngiven him, Kneels down and pays his Respects to the suppos'd Prince;\nAfter him comes in the Actors in their proper Dresses; and then the\nSchool-master, who open'd the Farce with a Comical Address made by the\n_Provincial_ Officer, which in every Line hinted at some Passage of the\nMelancholy Gentleman's Life, but with such an Ambiguous turn, and yet\nhome to the Man, that it was an excellent Piece of Diversion, to observe\nthe variety of Motions in the Princes Countenance, who thought all to be\nWitchcraft and Inchantment. The Force being over, and we left to our\nselves, the _Provincial_ returning up Stairs from conducting his Troop\nto the Door, Well, Gentlemen, says he, how do you relish your Diversion?\n_Et vous Monsieur le Prince_, if this will not bring you to your self,\nyou shall be Dethron'd at _Lyons_, and put upon a Level with the rest of\nthe Company; for he that pretends to put on a starch'd reserv'd Air upon\na Journey, make himself a Prince by his Distance, and so must either\nlose his Dignity by being good Humour'd, or pay the Reckoning like a\nPrince, and that we have Decreed shall be your Choice the Remainder of\nthe Journey. The _Provincial_ gain'd his End, for either this comical\nAccident was the Occasion, or the Term of the Gentleman's Melancholy was\nexpired; for afterwards he put on a gay Temper, and proved tollerable\nCompany.\nWe cou'd not content our selves with a single Nights Lodging in _Lyons_,\nthat City is furnish'd with too many Rarities for the amusement of\nStrangers, not to partake of a little more of their Money than any\nVulgar Inn upon the Road. And as we none of us desired to carry more\nwith us than what wou'd Answer our Travelling Expences, so we joyn'd in\na Resolution to divert our selves one Week or ten Days in that Populous\nPlace. I had a Recommendation from _Paris_ to an _Irish_ Clergyman, who\nwas a Prependary here, and a Person of Repute. This Gentleman wou'd\noblige me to take a Bed with him during my stay there, which I was very\nunwilling to accept of upon Account of my Company, however, he said that\nwould be no Inconvenience, since I might take my freedom with them all\nthe Day, in case I wou'd favour him with my Company half an Hour before\nBed time in the Evening. I perceiv'd this Goatly Clergyman was of a\ndifferent Stamp to the Generality of his Countrymen, and had a true Idea\nof the _French_ Politicks, for discoursing one Night upon the Subject of\na Restoration, and finding I was a Person he might deliver his Mind\nfreely to. Certainly, _said_ he, never Prince was more the Game of\nPoliticians and Fools than King _James_ II. His own Friends at home\nthrew him out of his Throne by their forward and indiscreet Management,\nand now he is bubbled with daily Hopes of Recovering it, when in reality\nthere was never any Design to bring it about. But King _James_ will\nalways be King _James_, and Judge every Man Honest, who does but\npretend to be so; for pray, gave me leave Sir, will it pass for a\nseizable Story in future Ages. That _Lewis_ XIV should make War in order\nto Restore _James_ II and keep above 40000 Men in constant Pay, and\nnever employ any of them that way. Twenty thousand Horse would have laid\nthe Three Kingdoms desolate in a few Weeks, but was there so much as one\nsingle Dragoon employ'd that way? Was not King _James_ forced to melt\nhis Canon and debase the Coin with it, whilst _Lewis_ XIV could send\nvast Remittances to _Constantinople_ to Support the _Turk_? Were not\n300000 Men driven like Sheep from the Banks of the _Boyne_ for want of\nArms, while what wou'd have furnish'd a Million of Men, were Rusting in\nthe Magazines of _France_? Were not the Highlanders constantly\nneglected, and fed with nothing but Promises, till they were reduc'd\nfrom a Victorious Army to a Troop of Banditti? Have not the Lives and\nFortunes of Thousands in _England_ payed very dear for these _French_\nPolitics, by being encourag'd to rise up and Precipitate themselves into\nRuin, by the Motions of Fleets and Armies upon sham Pretences of making\nDescents. I own Sir, I am transported when I find an Opportunity to vent\nmy self upon this Subject. Had _Lewis_ XIV been streightned by the\nAllies, he might have some pretence of not affording so much Assistance\nas otherwise he might; but in the last War, he was always Victorious\nboth upon the _Rhine_ and in _Flanders_, and if after the Battle of\n_Steenheer, Fleurs, Landen_, and Victories at Sea, besides the vast\nnumber of Towns he reduced, he did not think fit to employ his Arms\ntowards restoring King _James_, I must take the Liberty to think the War\nwas not begun upon his Account, nor that it can be judg'd the Interest\nof _France_ (unless they act against their own interest, which they are\ntoo wise a Nation to do) to have him reestablish'd. But all this, Sir, I\nspeak under the Rose; the Honour of the _French_ Court is too much\ntouch'd by such Reflections as these to suffer them to go unpunish'd if\nI should be discover'd. But I conclude from my worthy Friend at _Paris_\nwho gave me your Character, that I might use any freedom in your\nCompany. It may perhaps look like Ingratitude in me to reflect upon a\nPerson by whose Benevolence I possess this Post I have in the Church,\nwhich does not only afford me a decent Maintenance, but the Opportunity\nof obliging a Friend, but as I was a greater sufferer in _Ireland_, by\ngiving too much into _French_ Projects, so I look upon both this or any\nother Kindness they can do me, as a piece of Restitution. The Frank and\nopen Satyr of this Clergyman against the _French_ Conduct was very\nagreeable to my Temper, and I was not backward in seconding him in the\nsame Key. But while we were entertaining our selves with these dismal\nReflections, a Servant knock'd at the Chamber Door, so the Gentleman\nstep'd to know his Business, and after about half a Quarter of an Hour\nreturn'd again. I have been, says he, this Fortnight engaged in a very\ntroublesome Affair, which is like to have an ill Consequence to the\nParty concern'd. Here is, says he in Town an _Englishman_, who has, as\nhe informs me, been studying at a College of that Nation of _Rome_, but\nfor want of Health is oblig'd to break off his Studies, to have the\nBenefit of his own Country Air, which the Physicians prescribe to him as\nthe only Remedy to patch up his decaying Constitution: But the poor\nGentleman, about Three Leagues out of Town, as he was steering his\nCourse towards _Paris_, and so Homeward, met with a very unfortunate\nAccident. Walking on the Road about half an Hour before Sun setting, he\nwas overtaken by a Gentleman who kept pace with him, and ask'd him among\nother Things how far he design'd to Travel that Night, the _Englishman_\ntold him he was a Stranger to the Stages upon the Road, but he believ'd\nhe should take the Opportunity of the next Inn, for that it began to\ngrow late. The _French_ Man appear'd very obliging in his Conversation,\nand told him he should have been glad of his Company, but that he was\noblig'd to turn off on the Right Hand to a Friends House, whither he was\ngoing to divert himself a Day or Two. They had not gone a Hundred Rood\nfarther, but he stop'd and desired the _Englishman_ if he wou'd take a\npinch of Snuff, and then look'd backward and forward with an ominous\nCountenance, he Collar'd the _Englishman_, and drawing a small Pistol\nout of his Pocket, without any farther Ceremony, he cry'd _Ou la vie, ou\nla Bourse_. The Business was quickly over, and the _Englishman_ robb'd\nof all his Stock, which was to the value of Nine Pounds _English_,\nbesides a little Box of _Roman_ Coin, which were small Pieces of Money\nhe kept for Counters. The Foot-pad, after he had got his Booty, alters\nhis Course, and turns back towards _Lyons_, charging the _Englishman_\nnot to pursue him, nor yet go forward till he saw him out of Sight; for\nif he did, he wou'd certainly return upon him and deprive him of his\nLife as well as his Money. There was no arguing the Case, and the\nSurprize was so great, that had there been any way of escaping this\nAccident, 'tis probable it wou'd not have occurr'd at that time.\nAs soon as the Villain was out of sight, the _Englishman_ loitered his\nTime too and fro till it was dark, and then return'd backward towards\n_Lyons_, hoping to meet either with Credit or Charity for a small Sum to\nbear his Charges home, but not being able to reach the Town that Night,\nhe put in at a poor Cabaret, where he open'd his dismal Condition to the\nMaster of the House, who being a very Compassionate Man, promis'd to\nentertain him _Gratis_ that Night, and conduct him to _Lyons_ the next\nMorning. His first Application was to me; I promis'd to get him some\nRelief in a Day or Two, and the mean Time I procur'd him a Lodging. The\nnext Day coming up a Street which leads to my House, he accidently cast\nhis Eyes into a Habadasher's Shop, where he saw a Person sitting upon a\nStool at the side of the Counter chaffering for a Hat; his Back, and a\nSilk Bag his Wigg was tied up in, had so much the Resemblance with the\nPerson that rob'd him, that he stood gazing into the Shop so long, that\nthe shop-keeper step'd to the Door, and call'd to him if he would come\nin and please to buy any Thing, upon which the Gentleman upon the Stool\nturning himself about to look out of the Shop, he was known to be the\nsame Man who had committed the Robbery, and being in a Consternation to\nsee the Person he had assaulted stand directly before the Shop, he threw\ndown the Hat he had in his Hand, and leaving his Money upon the Counter,\nbolted out of the Door; but the _Englishman_ immediately alarm'd the\nwhole Street, and the Rogue was taken and carried before a Magistrate.\nIn the mean time I was sent for to assist the _Englishman_ in the\nNarrative of this Fact. At first the Foot-pad denied he ever saw the\nPerson, and as for the Money it cou'd not be sworn too; but the Box with\nlittle Roman Pieces being found upon him, he cou'd not stand that Proof,\nbesides, it appears he can give no Account where he was the Evening of\nthe Robbery, and the Innkeeper upon the Road, is positive he was one of\nthe Persons which pass'd by his House that Evening; and to compleat all,\nseveral Persons who came in to see him out of Curiosity, depos'd, that\nhe is very like the Man, by Description, has follow'd that Road several\nYears. To conclude, the _Englishman_ only stays in Town now to be\nWitness against this _Malhoneux_. Hanging is certainly his Doom; but if\nother Suspicions are made out, of his being that noted Offender, who had\ninfested the Road for a considerable Time, it will be his Fate to be\nbroke upon the Wheel. However, the _Englishman_ has recover'd most of\nhis Money, but he will be forc'd to expend it on Charges; but I will see\nto ease him in that Point. I was very much edify'd with this Clergyman's\nGenerous and Christian Temper in being obliging and endeavouring to do\ngood to every Body. But now the Time drew near that we were to leave\n_Lyons_, we had but one Day more to stay, and that the _Irish_\nPrebendary challenged to himself, desiring I and my Companions would\naccept of a small Treat and Dine with him. We had every thing that was\ngood in its kind, but he wou'd not press his Wine upon us, for the\nChurchman's Character, was not to be Sacrific'd to the Soldiers\nAppetite; for he who urges the Glass too far, if he is not himself\nsuspected of Insobriety, is certainly obnoxious to the immoral Part of\nthe Ceremony.\nWhen an Army is not upon Action, the Camp is a tedious Place to spend a\nMans time in; but we, who are Subjects of _Great Britain_, had some\nadditional Circumstances to make our Time lie heavy upon our Hands; For\nmy own part, I always look'd upon my self as a banish'd Man, and my\nThoughts always look'd homeward. There are a great many Charms in some\nsort of Delusions, especially, if they flatter Inclination. It was now\nalmost grown into a settled Opinion with me, that _France_ would never\nmake any farther Attempt to restore King _James_, than by way of\nAmusement, to drive on some other Project; and yet upon the least\nIntimation of a Descent, my Inclinations willingly carry'd me over to\nanother Belief: And of this my wavering Temper I soon after gave a very\nremarkable Instance. My Brother-in-law inform'd me by Letter from\n_Paris_, that there was a deep Design laid to make us all Happy in a\nlittle Time, so he advised me to make what haste I could, for that now\nthe Sea was dividing, and the Children of _Israel_ were upon their\nmarch to the _Land of Promise_. Immediately I answer'd the Summons, and\ngave into the Advice by taking Post, and had the Satisfaction to Sup\nwith my Brother in five Days time. The very next Day I went to St.\n_Germains_, where I was glad to find every thing in such forwardness.\nThe King was preparing himself to go to _Callis_, where a considerable\nBody of Men were Rendevouzing, as 'twas generally believ'd, in order to\nbe transported into _England_; where in and about _London_, several\nPersons were privately engag'd, and ready with Arms to receive the King\nat Landing. In the Town of St. _Germains_, several Persons dispos'd of\ntheir Lodgings and Furniture and turn'd them into Money for this\nExpedition. The Day came that the King was to take leave of the Queen,\nand here I was resolv'd to play the Physiogminist, and observe in their\nCountenances, whether I cou'd see any thing that look'd like a Descent,\nfor I did not think it improbable, but the King by this time might be so\nfar habituated to the _French_ Politicks, as to concur to be made a Fool\nof, and I was not the only one of that Opinion, that the King himself\nwas let into the Secret, and knew very well his Journey to _Callis_; and\nhovering about the Coast, was only to keep back ten Thousand _English_\nand _Scotch_, whose Presence, that Campaign, would have done the\n_French_ no kindness in _Flanders_. An old Project; and thus much I read\nboth in the King and Queen's Face, for neither at parting, nor\nafterwards, did the Queen signify that Disturbance which she could not\nhave conceal'd, had the Project been real. I need not give the Reader\nany farther Account of this Matter for it shewed it self upon the Kings\nreturning to St. _Germains_. Had this Design been attended with no worse\nCircumstances than harassing a Monarch, and fooling his Subjects at\n_Paris_, and St. _Germains_, it might here be regarded as an Innocent\nstroke of Politicks, though very disobliging and improper; but if we\nlook on the other side the Channel, it had occasion'd very Cruel and\nBarbarous Consequences. Those unfortunate Gentlemen who went upon the\nStrength of this sham Project to raise Men, provide Arms and Horses, and\nattempt seizing of King _William_'s Person, are dear Instances of\n_French_ Policy; for 'tis not to be suppos'd that _Church, King_, Sir\n_William Perkins_, Sir _John Friend_, Sir _John Fenwick_, or half a\nhundred of their Adherents, wou'd either have attempted the Conquering\nof three Kingdoms, or been discover'd by any of the Confederacy, had not\nthe _French_ both encourag'd 'em and left 'em in the lurch.\nIt was observable after this Peregrination, that King _James_ began to\nride with a very loose Rein, and throwing the Bridle in the Neck,\nmanaged his Concerns with a great deal of Indifference. He saw clearly\nhow fatal a Thing it was for one King to fall into the Hands of another;\nand that under the plausible Cloak of Hospitality, and Royal Protection,\na Person might be lull'd a Sleep in the Arms of an Enslaver. When\nPrinces are detain'd Prisoners, they generally wear all the Symptoms of\ntheir Royalty besides that of Freedom, which cannot be distinguish'd so\nmuch by the Eye as, the Judgment; and if some of King _James_'s Subjects\nregarded their Master with the same Compassion at the Castle of St.\n_Germains_ as if he had been in the _Bastile_, there was very little\nDifference to be found besides the largeness of the Enclosure. And if\nKing _James_ has not often been heard to let drop Expressions as if he\nregarded himself no otherwise than a Politick Prisoner, I am very much\nmisinform'd by those who constantly attended his Person. The denying him\nhis own Guards, the number of Spies he had upon all his Actions, the\nUneasiness he often shew'd that he cou'd enjoy no Privacy, are\nCircumstances that smell very strong of a Prison. However, the Pretence\nof protecting a Person in Distress, was a noble Sham, and so well\ndress'd up, that the Generallity ne'er look'd through the Disguise. The\nSalary allow'd him, and frequent Protestations of standing by him with\nunpolitick Heads, were look'd upon as undeniable Proofs of _Lewis_ XIV.'\nSincerity; but those who were better acquainted with _French_\nStratagems, easily pull'd off the Vizard. King _James_ fell into the\nHands of _France_, and was a rich Opportunity in the _French_ Hands,\nfrom whence they might raise a Thousand Advantages. He was too great a\nTreasure to be parted with only upon good Terms. A Tool no less useful\nto make a Diversion in time of War, than to obtain a beneficial Article\nat the Conclusion of Peace; and if upon the Foot of this Maxim he was\nnot thrown into one side of the Scales at the Peace of _Reswick_, when\n_France_ cou'd have no other Motive but being gratified with an\nEquivalent for the disclaim of his Title, I shall own my self a Stranger\nto the Spirit and Design of that Treaty. Two things surpris'd all\n_Europe_ upon that Treaty, the first was, that _France_ should be so\ninclinable to hearken to a Peace after a War, in which he had always\nbeen successful. The other was, that no regard shou'd be had to King\n_James_, not so much as to be admitted to speak, though _France_\npretended to have undertaken the War meerly upon his Account, and that\nhis Quarrel seem'd to be the only Circumstance to justify his Conduct in\nthe War. The Hopes of gaining Time to work his Ends upon _Spain_, will\neasily account for his forwardness in clapping up a Peace, and giving up\nmore Towns than he had been Master of by the War; for thus like a\nthrough pac'd Politician, he humbled himself by little Condescensions to\nthe Feet of the Allies, and sacrifices these Excrescencies of his Glory,\nin hopes very speedily to make good all such Deficiences by the larger\nAcquisition of _Spain_: But nothing will answer the other Part of\nPeople's Expectations. _Lewis_ XIV had often made solemn Protestations,\nthat as the War was principally undertaking to do right to K. _James_,\nso Peace should not be made unless he was consider'd; and unless it were\na few near the Person of _Lewis_ XIV who were in the Secret concerning\nthe Design upon _Spain_, there was not a Man in _France_ but who had a\nbetter Opinion of their Monarch's Honour, than to think he wou'd desert\nKing _James_ the Second's Cause in so scandalous a Manner, as not to\nadmit his Plenipotentiaries to speak at _Reswick_: Yes, so undefensible\nwas the Conduct of _France_ upon this Head, that they commonly own'd\nthey were asham'd to look any that belong to the Court of St. _Germains_\nin the Face, since all their lofty Protestations for restoring King\n_James_ ended in the self-ended Design of securing the _Spanish_\nMonarchy in the House of _Bourbon_. And thus poor King _James_ had\nimplicitely devoted himself to the _French_ King's Politicks, first by\nsuffering himself to be led blindfolded, and after he had pull'd off the\nVeil, (though some will have it he died with the Film upon his Eyes)\ncaress'd the Opportunity, and made it a principal Ingredient among those\nMisfortunes which he was in hopes to raise his Merits hereafter, and if\nhe question'd the _French_ King's Sincerity, he either durst not tell\nhim, or scrupled to publish his Insincerity.\nThese were the melancholly Meditations with which the more discerning\npart of King _James's_ Friends often entertain'd themselves, but great\ncare was taken that no such Language shou'd reach the _French_ Court.\nTheir Honour was too nearly touch'd to pass over such Reflexions in that\nseverity and remarkable Punishment. I took my self to be pretty Cautious\nupon such like Subjects, yet upon this last pretended Descent, King\n_James_ being inform'd that I had express'd my self very improperly upon\nthe Matter, so as to blame the Dilatory Methods of _France_ upon his\nAccount, I was order'd to be Prisoner in my Lodgings, but releas'd after\ntwo Days Confinement, with a threatening Charge, never more to reflect\nupon the _French_ King's Conduct. I do not remember where I spoke the\nWords, or in what Company, but I believe I might make a loose upon their\nManagement who prefer'd the _French_ to the King's own Subjects upon\nthis Expedition; adding withal, that it look'd as if such Persons had no\nDesign the Project should take Effect, but this was enough to shew I had\na jealous Mind.\nAbout this Time my Company, with the rest of the Regiment, was order'd\ndown into _Flanders_, and having been a considerable Time absent I was\ncommanded to attend there. My Brother-in-law who was one of the Robe in\nhis own Country, and unacquainted with the Wars, yet was moved with a\ncertain Curiosity to see a Campaign, and tho' much against my Sister's\nWill, resolv'd to accompany me into _Flanders_; yet his Principal Motive\nwas to make a Halt at _Doway_, whither he had been invited some time\nbefore by a near Relation belonging to the _Scotch_ College in that\nUniversity. We went together in the _Cambray_ Coach, and after a short\nstay at _Doway_, we proceeded on to the Army, which then was under that\nexpert and resolute General the Duke of _Luxembourg_. It was certainly a\nkind impulse of Heaven that gave me my Brother for a Companion upon this\nOccasion; for an Action happening soon after, viz. the famous Battle of\n_Launden_, where it was my Misfortune to be dangerously wounded. I had\nthe Satisfaction of my Brother's Company and Assistance during a tedious\nSickness, which was the Consequence of my Wounds. The _French_ were no\ngreat Gainers by this Battle, though they at long run routed the Enemy,\nand kept the Field; for besides the great loss they sustain'd during the\nAttack, which far exceeded that of the Allies, the Victory was not well\npursu'd. It was my Post to reinforce a Party of _French_ Fusiliers, who\nwere order'd to Storm the Intrenchmenent, in which Service a Bullet was\nlodg'd in my Shoulder, which besides disabling me on one Side, the loss\nof Blood I suffer'd was so great, that I was not able to support my\nself, but drop'd down and had been trampled to Death under my own Mens\nFeet, had not a strong Body'd Drummer hurried me out of the Croud upon\nhis Back; but he carried me off with such Precipitation, that one of the\nEnemies Troopers seeing me at a Distance, and thinking me to be somebody\nof Consequence, sprung after me upon his Gelding, and carried both me\nand the Drummer into a Village on the left Hand of the Attack, where\nseveral Squadrons were posted. The commanding Officer who was a Colonel\nof the _English_ Guards, finding, I was of the _British_ Nation, order'd\nme to be laid in a Barn with a Centinel to guard me, and the Surgeon of\nthe Regiment was immediately call'd for to dress and tie up my Wounds. I\nhad not been in that Lodging above an Hour, but the Village was attack'd\nby the _French_ Gens d'Arms, and there was a Tryal of Skill between the\nFlower of both the Armies, in which Action the _French_ at last were\nSuperior, so I was releas'd, but it was equal to me in the Condition I\nwas in whose Hands I fell into, for I had so many fainting Fits which\nsucceeded one another, that I expected not to survive any of 'em. My\nBrother, whom I desired to go to _Loraine_ during the Action had a Mind\nto be a little nearer, so remain'd with the Baggage, but met not with me\ntill the next Day, that we both went in a Waggon to his Lodgings in\n_Loraine_, where I was confin'd three Months before I was able to\nTravel.\nIn this Retirement it was that I began to be very Serious: A Soldiers\nLife has many Occurrences which are not very reconcileable to strict\nMorality. To comprize my own Character in relation to Christianity, I\nwas neither a Saint nor a Devil. The Pains I felt were very Sharp, and\nhindred my Rest; my Blood was heated and boiling up to a Fever, which\nbeing agitated with daily dressing my Wounds, it requir'd a skillful\nPhysician and a good Regimen in the Patient, to stave off a Fit of\nSickness. My Brother prov'd an excellent Nurse, and had he not us'd a\ngreat deal of Reason in keeping me from improper Nourishment, the Game\nwould quickly have been up with me. I was also waited upon several\ntimes by a worthy Clergyman, who neglected not to give me Penitent Hints\nto have regard to the main Concern; I return'd him Thanks, and gave him\nto understand I would make use of him when there was more urgent\nOccasion. When I began to grow a Valetudinarian, and that my Wounds\nbegan to heel up, I had the Liberty to drink _Loraine_ Beer, which is\nmuch celebrated in those Parts. As yet I had drank nothing but Tissans\nand such like Decoctions, which being very mild upon the Palate, did not\ngive content to the inward dryness and thirst I felt by the loss of\nBlood. But I quickly repented this Indulgence of tasting the Beer, I\ntook such deep Draughts that I relaps'd into a dangerous and most\nviolent Fever, in which I acted all the Parts of a dying Man, besides\nmaking my Exit; I was delirious above three Days, which though it was\nbut a melancholly Sight in it self, yet I behav'd my self so various in\nmy rambling Discourse, that it occasion'd no small Diversion to such as\nwere present, and had no immediate concern in my Welfare. I besieg'd\nTowns, rally'd scattered Forces, accepted Challenges, wandered over the\n_Alpes_, and pass'd over several Seas without Ships; I was in the\nOrchard at the Boyne, under the Walls of _London Derry_, and diverted\nwith the fine Rode to _Lions_, and what I thought I should never have in\nmy Head again, some amorous Ideas, though very faint one's, discover'd\nthemselves, and I was heard to talk of Snuff-Boxes, Periwigs, and\n_Spanish_ Ladies. My Brother who heard me, and to whom I had discover'd\nthat Intrigue, burst out into a Laugh when he heard me name Snuff-Boxes;\nfor this was enough to make him believe the Passion was not dead in me,\nwhich he horded up to rally me with.\nDuring this Entertainment which I gave the Spectators, my Brother had\nsent for the Priest, but I was then in a very improper State to settle\nAccounts in Relation to the next World. However, the Gentleman\napproaching my Bed, and calling upon me to hear whether I could return a\nrational Answer. He bid me lift up my Heart to God, and call upon my\nRedeemer. But I, as I suppose, taking him to be one of my Sergeants, bid\nGod--D--n him for a Rascal, why had he not been with me before? for the\nColonel had order'd a Review shou'd be made at Eleven a Clock. The\nPriest shrugg'd up his Shoulders, sprinkled me with Holy Water, and\nretir'd to the Window, where my Brother and the Physician were attending\nmy Fate. When my Delirious Fit was over, which was about an Hour\nafterwards, I turn'd my Eyes towards the other Side of the Room, where I\nsaw three Persons leaning in the Window with their Backs towards me; and\nnot being entirely recover'd from my Delirious State, I fancied my self\na Prisoner at _Constantinople_, and that my Brother, the Physician, and\nthe Priest, were three Mutes sent to Strangle me; but in an Instant or\ntwo I return'd to my self, and discover'd whose Hands I was in. This was\na terrible Attack, and the Enemy had made such a Breach, that I desired\nto wisper a Word with the Priests, telling him I wou'd Capitulate next\nMorning about Eight a Clock. Afterwards I recover'd very leisurely, and\ntook great Care not to be too bold with the _Lorain_ Beer. My Phician\nadvised me not to remove from that Place till I was perfectly\nestablish'd, assuring me there was not better Air in all the\n_Netherlands_. I follow'd his Advice, for I cou'd not think him prompted\nto give it me through Avarice, for he was so very moderate in his Fees,\nthat I thought my self oblig'd at our parting to make him a handsome\nPresent. My Brother who was a Man of Letters, and very curious in his\nEnquiries, had a good opportunity during our stay here to get acquainted\nwith several learned Men of this University. One of the first account\nwas Dr. _Martin_ an _Irish_ Clergyman, who had a lively Genious and was\nalso a Person of great reading. In the mean time my Sister at _Paris_\nbegan to grow impatient for her Husband, but she bore his Absence the\nbetter when she understood how useful he had been to me during my\nSickness. However, we made bold to Trespass a little further, by taking\na turn round the Country. It was not a Journey entirely of Pleasure, for\nI was oblig'd to go to _Amsterdam_, there being a stop put to the\nInterest of my Mony, so I was resolved to see that Matter rectify'd. So\nhaving obtained a Pass from the Allies, under the Quality of two\n_Scotch_ Merchants we began our Journey. When I came to _Amsterdam_, I\nwas very much surpriz'd to understand the odd Occasion of my Money being\nstop'd. It seems a Countryman, of mine who had fish'd out something of\nmy Concerns, and saw me fall at the Battle of _Launden_, had\nCounterfeited a Deed in the Nature of a Will, which imported, that all\nmy Effects in _Amsterdam_ were left to him, he being my Brother, and\ndemanding it as his due. The Banker had the Deed perus'd by several\nPersons, it had a great appearance of being Authentick, and my Hand was\nso inimitably clap'd to it, that when compared with what was certainly\nknown not to be Counterfeit, 'twas impossible to discover the\nDifference. Now the Banker desired this pretended Brother of mine to\nhave Patience till he had an account from _Paris_ whether or no I was\ndead, and the general Report being that I was kill'd at _Launden_, this\nwas the occasion that the Money was neither paid to my Correspondent nor\nto my Sham Brother. This Point once clear'd, I was resolv'd to find out\nthe Person who had personated my Brother, that I might bring him to\ncondign Punishment, as also to clear a Suspicion I had, that my Servant\nhad a Hand in it, for otherwise I thought it impossible one that was a\nStranger should know whose Hands my Money was in. In the first place I\ncunningly interrogated my Servant at a distance, and found enough by his\nCountenance that he was not entirely Innocent, however, not being able\nto prove it upon him, I in the next place made a diligent Search after\nmy Sham-Brother; for he had told the Banker at his last Visit that he\nwou'd return again in Seven or Eight Days, and Six of 'em were now\nexpired. The Gentleman was as good as his World. He came to the Banker\nwith a good Assurance, and demanded both Principal and Interest. I was\nthen at my Lodging, but being sent for, I was strangely surpris'd to see\nthe Clerk of my Company, who was also a Sergeant, metamorphos'd into my\nBrother. He shrunk two Inches lower at the Sight of me; but dissembling\nthe matter, I am glad to see thee alive Sergeant said I, for I took it\nfor granted you were kill'd at the Battle of _Launden_; and I, reply'd\nthe impudent Villain, thought you had, otherwise I had not been here:\nbut if you please, noble Captain, to walk into the next Tavern and give\nme leave to wait upon you, I will discover to you the occasion of my\ncoming to _Amsterdam_. My Fears as to my Money being now all over, I\ncomply'd with the Rascal, and went along with him. But he dress'd up\nsuch a Narrative in favour of his good Intention, and strengthen'd it\nwith such plausible Circumstances, That he and my Servant, whom he\nconfess'd to be one of the Party, had no other Intention but to get the\nMoney out of the Banker's Hands for the Use of my Relations; for that\nthey had Reason to suspect I had made no Will, and so no body wou'd have\na Right to demand the Money. Now though this Stratagem was very probably\nall a Fiction, yet it wrought so much with me, that I did not Prosecute\neither of 'em; for as I was acquainted with both their Friends in\n_Scotland_, so I had some regard for them, and dismissed them to go home\nor whither they pleas'd, not thinking it safe to entertain Persons who\nhad been involved in such mysterious Practices.\nMy Affairs being settled at _Amsterdam_, we had the Curiosity to see\n_Antwerp_, which is a City where a Stranger may employ his Time very\nagreeably, for a longer Term than we cou'd conveniently spend there. We\nlodg'd at a House where an _English_ Nobleman also had an Apartment. He\nhad been in that City about two Months, kept a handsome Equipage, was\nvery young, and a well bred Gentleman, of great value among the Ladies,\nand had he been able to support the Character he bore at first\nappearance here, it would have convinced the World there is very little\ndifference between a Footman and a Nobleman, where neither Sense nor\nMoney are wanting to carry on the Resemblance. I must anticipate the\ndismal Exit of this unfortunate Gentleman which happen'd not till about\ntwo Years afterwards. While he was in his Splendour at _Antwerp_, and\ncou'd answer every bodies Expectations as to Money matters, it was not\nany Mans Business to pry into his Pedigree; but when his Conduct began\nto be observ'd, and taken Notice to be full of Shuffling and Demurs in\nthe Payment of small Bills, there was a Jealousy spread about the Town\nthat the Lord G---- would prove a Cheat, so his Credit began to sink in\nthe Shops, but it held up still among the Ladies, where a handsome\nPersonage, and a charming Tongue is often ready Money. But it was not\nlong before he began also to be suspected from this Quarter; his Visits\nwere not so frequent, his Treats much more sparing; and especially one\nLady, who was his greatest Admirer, and most capable to make Him Happy\non all Accounts, was oblig'd to expose him, and make this Phantom of\nNobility evaporate. In the frequent Visits he pay'd this Lady, he had\nobserv'd a very handsome Diamond Ring upon her Finger, which was no\nless remarkable for its uncommon Form, than intrinsick Value, at a low\nEstimate being judg'd to be worth 80_l_. Sterling. The Gentleman had\noften thrown out a great many Compliments upon it, which usually tended\ntowards extolling the Ladies Judgment and Fancy in the choice and\nordering of that Jewel, for she wanting to her self, let him and every\nbody else know, it was a Thought of her own. The Gentleman in the midst\nof one of his Panegyricks upon this little Charmer, begg'd the Favour of\nthe Lady that he might borrow it for a Day or two till he had shewn it a\nJeweller, for he design'd to have one made in the same Form. The Lady\nwas not a little pleas'd that her Fancy was like to become a Pattern to\nthe Town, willingly drew it off her Finger, not in the least suspecting\nany Trick, for as yet his Fame was untouch'd. I think he made two or\nthree Visits without returning the Ring, pretending the Workman was\ndilatory in taking a Pattern; but 'tis suppos'd he wanted time to\nprepare himself for a Flight, and brush off with the Ring. However, none\nof these Suspicions enter'd the Ladies Head, he not being her Aversion.\nAbout three or four Days after, a Lady visiting her, told her the\n_English_ Nobleman had parted with his Chariot, pawn'd his best Suit of\nCloaths, and that his Credit was not only very low, but it was suppos'd\nhe wou'd in a Day or two be oblig'd to Decamp, or take up his Quarters\nin a Jail. 'Tis obvious to imagine that the first Thing that came into\nthe Ladies Mind upon this Occasion was her Diamond Ring; but, as she\nconfess'd afterwards to a Friend, the Compassion she had for the\nGentleman's Circumstances had so large a Place in her Heart, that she\ndoes not remember to have had any concern upon her in Relation to the\nJewel; from whence we may gather that Evil Fate that hangs over some\nPersons Heads, for had but this unfortunate Person pursu'd the Interest\nhe had with that Lady, whilst he was in flourishing Circumstances, he\nmight easily have carried it to the _non plus ultra_, and became Master,\nof 15000, as she her self own'd when she recover'd her Passion and began\nto think calmly. However, the Diamond Ring was not to be neglected, for\nthough she had been willing to have parted with her Interest in it to\nSuccour the Gentleman in Distress, it was too large an Alms, and would\nperhaps have been judg'd by the World rather an Instance of her\nForwardness and Indiscretion than of her Charity. Her Friends before\nadvis'd her to demand the Ring, which she did that Evening, but\nunderstood he had pawn'd it for the full Value; upon which she was\n(though much against her Inclination) oblig'd to Arrest him, and had him\nclap'd up in Prison: But however, she was a very kind Jailor. It is a\nCustom, having the Force of the Law in the _Netherlands_, that when a\nDebtor is kept in Prison, it shall be at the Charges of the Creditors;\nin which also they observe a kind of Proportion, that a Gentleman is to\nbe allow'd like a Gentleman, and a Mechanick is to be content with a\nsmaller Allowance. The Lady comply'd very willingly with the Custom, and\nher Prisoner being reputed a Person of Quality, it was an excellent\nDisguise to show her Liberality. But afterwards being weary of the\nCharge, and finding by the Information of several _Englishmen_ that\npass'd thro' _Antwerp_, that her Prisoner was not the Person he\npretended to be, but a meer Sharper and Knight of the Post, she\nslacken'd in her Charity, and gradually brought him down to a common\nAllowance, and at last discharg'd him. His Life after that was a meer\nRomance; He first went into _Gaunt_, here he took up a large Apartment\nof four or five Rooms well furnish'd, which he sold after a Fortnight,\ntaking an advantage of the Landlady's Abscence. With the strength of\nthis Plunder, he made a Figure for two or three Months at _Brussels_,\nwhere he fought a Duel with _H.S._ an _English_ Gentleman. This Accident\ndrove him from _Brussels_, but finding he was not secure in the _Spanish\nFlanders_, he crossed the Lines, spent the remainder of his Substance at\n_Lisle_, and he directed his Course to _Dunkirk_, from whence 'tis said\nhe design'd to take Shipping for _England_. But here he finish'd his\nMisfortunes as I was inform'd upon the Spot, by a Merchant who resided\nin that Town, and saw his Exit. This _English_ Merchant walking upon the\nKey according to Custom, observ'd a young Gentleman walking in a\nMelancholy Posture, and thinking he knew him, though the poor Dress he\nwas in would not suffer him to make a positive Judgment; however, he\nstept up towards him, and upon a nearer View, was convinc'd he was the\nPerson he took him for. This Merchant had been acquainted with him at\n_Antwerp_, when he bore the Character of an _English_ Nobleman and lived\nwith great Splendor. The Gentleman more dash'd, as I suppose, to jump\nupon one who had heard of his Tricks, than for the meanness of his\nCircumstances, told the Merchant he was an unfortunate Man, and Things\nwere now so desperate with him, that he had no way left to relieve\nhimself but by a Halter. The Merchant having a charitable regard for his\nCircumstance, though he knew him to be a very undeserving Object, told\nhim, he wou'd provide him with a Lodging and Diet till he had a Return\nof Money, the Gentleman answer'd frankly he expected no Returns, nor did\nhe know of any Body that wou'd Assist him, nor you'd he make any\nDemands. This Account encourag'd the Merchant to be more Charitable, so\nhe conducted him to an Inn, desiring the Master of the House to furnish\nhim with Diet and Lodging till further Orders. Two Days after, the\nMerchant coming to Visit him about Ten in the Morning, when they\nimagin'd he was still in Bed, a Servant being sent up to call him, he\nwas hang'd upon the Beam, in one Corner of his Chamber. The Merchant had\na great Curiosity to find out the Pedigree of this Romantick Gentleman,\nbut you'd get no Authentick Account. I told him I was inform'd at\n_Antwerp_, that he was Footman to a Person of Quality, and that he had\nrobb'd his Master, and fled into the _Netherlands_ to escape Justice,\nwhich made him always unwilling to think of returning Home.\nThe Peace of _Reswick_ was a ratifying King _James's_ Abdication, and\nenrolling in the _French_ Archives, what was before declar'd in the\nConvention at _Westminster_. It was now no Time to expostulate with\n_Lewis_ XIV. why he had concluded a Peace without mentioning the Person\nupon whose Account he had began the War? The Titular King of St.\n_Germains_, and the Real one at _Whitehall_, were not irreconcileable,\nand the continuation of the Pension was regarded as an unquestionable\nmark of the _French_ King's Sincerity, and the unthinking Crew spoke\nwell of the Master that cramm'd them, never dreaming that they were but\nfatten'd for Slaughter, and that under the Disguise of Succouring their\nPersons, he might Prey upon their Interest. The _Spanish_ Monarchy was\nwhat _France_ had in their Eye by the Peace of _Reswick_, and the\nRestoring of King _James_ was decreed to be the Motive of a War when\nthey came to a Rupture. Upon the Decease of the King of _Spain_, _Lewis_\nXIV diverted Europe with a fresh Scene of Politicks. He convinc'd 'em,\nthat what he had done at _Reswick_ was a meer Decoy to gain Time and\nBreath, and bring greater Designs about. The Allies saw clearly he had\nbeen jugling with two Sham Treaties of Partition, but was underhand\nworking to engross the Whole, and that the Son and Father at St.\n_Germains_ were always to serve to the same Purposes, and stand in the\nfirst Line of his _Manifesto_, to make the War plausible, and raise\nFactions in the Territories of _Great-Britain_. This was Fact, for no\nsooner were _Things_ ready in _Spain_ and _Flanders_, but King _James_\nII departed this Life, which opportunity the _French_ Monarch snatched,\nand in a studied Royal Transport, exalted the young Striplings\nExpectations at St. _Germains_ by a solemn Protestation, that he wou'd\nnever sheath his Sword till he saw him upon the Throne of his Ancestors,\nby which I suppose he understood no more than that titular Inauguration\nwhich was settled upon his Father at the Peace of _Reswick_. For had not\nthe Affair of the _Spanish_ Monarchy prompted _France_ to this generous\nDeclaration in Favour of the Son, 'tis highly probable the _Gallick_\nSword wou'd have rusted in the Scabbard, as it was lock'd up by the\nTreaty of _Reswick_, nor had it been now drawn but upon a more\nbeneficial Provocation, than restoring King _James_, for if it was the\nInterest of _France_ to let the Father sit down quietly with the Title,\nnothing cou'd supervene to give the Son the Reality. Upon this Basis the\nWar was renewed again on both Sides, and the Juggle was kept on with the\nCourt of St. _James_'s, and great Pains were taken by the Emissaries of\n_France_, to buoy up King _James_'s Friends both at home and abroad,\nthat _Lewis_ XIV was Sincere, and wou'd exert himself sooner and later\nin their Cause.\nThe World needs not be put in Mind what Service King _James_ II, Troops\ndid to _France_ during the War, every Action spoke their Bravery, but\nthe grand Reform that was made upon the Peace was a sorry recompence for\ntheir Service. _France_ wou'd not entertain 'em, and a Halter was their\nDoom if they return'd Home. This was an odd way of obliging King\n_James_; I speak not so much upon my own account, (though I was reduc'd\nat the same Time) because I had a Sufficiency elsewhere to keep me from\nStarving; but it was but a melancholly sight to behold poor Men\nstrolling upon the Road, not knowing which way to direct their Course,\nand begging Alms through those Towns in which a little before they had\nTriumph'd in Victory. But the Rod is often thrown away and burnt after\nthe Child is Whip'd. Upon this Occasion it was that I took leave of\n_Mars_, resolving to make use of this Interval of Peace, to satisfy an\nold Curiosity to see _England_, a Place as yet I never had beheld. Some\nAcquaintance I had contracted at _Dunkirk_, made me willing to take\nShipping there, besides the hopes I had of decoying a pleasant Gentleman\nfor my Companion, and upon my Arrival I found him in a good Humour, so\nwe set Sail about three in the Morning, and came under _North Foreland\nPoint_ about seven the same Day. The Master of the Vessel, though he was\nan old Coaster, was not willing to trust himself among the Flats in a\ndark Moon, so we lay at Anchor all Night, and in the Morning by peep of\nDay, the Wind being pretty favourable, we weigh'd and pursu'd our Voyage\nup the River; but being a little too soon for the Tyde, we struck upon a\nSand Bed, and oblig'd to remain ther till the Rise of the Water. I was\nall alone in the Master's Cabin when this Accident happen'd, but being\nvery intent upon a Book, I was not sensible whether we mov'd or stood\nstill. A Lady who was with the rest of the Passengers upon Deck coming\nhastily down, Sir, said she. Do you sit quietly here and we are struck\nupon a Sand-Bed? Madame, said I, I did suppose such a Thing, but the\nTyde will cast us off. You suppos'd such a Thing, said she, Why, Sir, we\nshall certainly be drown'd, come let us to Prayers. I was not very much\naccustom'd to the Sea, yet I imagin'd there could be no great Danger as\nlong as we had a flowing Tyde, and that it did not blow a Storm: Had the\nWater been ebbing and a Storm ensu'd upon it, 'tis probable our Ship,\nbeing none of the strongest, might have been beaten to Pieces among\nthose Sands. However, I step'd upon Deck to see how Things went; there\nwas a profound Silence every where, the Passengers were scatter'd here\nand there looking one at another, but not speaking a Word; the Master\nwas walking with his Arms across without Fear, but not without Concern\nin his Countenance: I ask'd him how he came to be mistaken in the Tyde?\nhe answer'd, Accidents would happen'd sometimes, but there was no\nDanger. Then running on in a Strain of Sailors Cant, he said, God was at\nSea as well as at Land, that the Lord wou'd protect 'em if they did but\nput their Trust in him, and love him as they ought. In the middle of\nthis moral Lesson, the Ship was gently wafted off the Sands by the Tyde,\nand Sails being abroad spread, the Ship sail'd merrily along. 'Twas\nsurprizing to observe the Alteration in every bodies Countenance; the\nWomen began to Laugh and Giggle; the Men began to rally one another for\nwant of Courage; the Sailors began to raise their Note higher and\nhigher, and the Master of the Ship turn'd his Sermon into a Volley of\nOaths and Curses against his Crew; and thus in an instant, from a\nprofound Silence we recover'd our selves again to Noise and Hurry. That\nDay brought us to _Gravesend_, where we took Boat, and so arriv'd safe\nat _London_, though I was not very well pleas'd with those small Boats\nPeople usually pass in from _Gravesend_ to _London_, for I understood\nthey were often Overset by sudden Gusts of Wind which blow from the\nShoar.\n_London_ is a Place above my Description, and though I lost no Time the\nsix Months I remain'd there, to view what Curiosities were to be seen,\nyet 'tis probable many Things worthy of Observation escaped my\nDiligence. I took a particular care not to make my self Public, but\npass'd at my Lodgings under Disguise of a Merchant, yet abroad I acted\nthe Marquess, not to be depriv'd of the Means of introducing my self\ninto the best of Company. I found they were much divided in _England_ as\nto the _French_ Politicks; some were of Opinion that _Lewis_ XIV was\nserious in King _James_'s Cause, but these were Persons who had no\nNotion of Foreign Affairs, and judg'd of Matters according to their\nfirst Appearance; for others who had studied the Interest of Nations,\nand how their Pretensions he in regard of one another, had no Notion of\nthe _French_ King's Sincerity, either towards King _James_, or any other\nPrince he dealt with, and there is not one Instance I have mention'd in\nthese Memoirs, in order to demonstrate the Infatuated State of the Court\nof St. _Germains_, but I heard it frequently urg'd to the same purpose,\nby the most intelligent Persons, as well Friends as Enemies to King\n_James_. While I was diverting my self at _London_, I receiv'd a Letter\nfrom _Paris_, that there was a Lieutenant Collonel's Place vacant, which\nI might easily be promoted to in Case I wou'd be at the trouble to, make\nuse of what Interest I might reasonably Command. But I quickly\nunderstood, that by my Interest was meant my Money, so employing my\n_Amsterdam_ Stock that way, I might very probably by a _French_ Piece of\nCivility, live to want both my Money and a Commission. I return'd a\nthousand Thanks to my Friends for their Diligence in my Absence, but\ntold 'em, I had rather wait till another War broke out, and their would\nbe more choice of Promotions, and I might please my self, because I was\nsomewhat curious what Regiment I engag'd in.\nIt was a tedious Journey to go into _Scotland_ by Land, otherwise I was\nvery much disposed to see my own Country once more, and apprehending\nbesides, there might be some Danger upon account of being engaged in the\n_French_ Service during this late War. I laid these Thoughts aside, and\ncontented my self with making a small Tour Twenty or Thirty Miles\ndistance from _London_, in which Progrination I saw _Windsor_,\n_Greenwich_, _Hampton-Court_, and some other Places of Note. But in one\nof these Jaunts, I had like to have paid very dear for my Curiosity. The\nNeighbourhood of _London_ is much infested with Highwaymen, and if a\nGentleman rides not with Pistols, 'tis very probable he will be\nattack'd. Unacquainted with these Customs, the Day I went to _Windsor_,\nI had in Company with me an _Irish_ Gentleman; we made use of nothing\nbut common Hacks, nor had any other Arms but our Swords; about the\nmiddle of _Honslow Heath_ we met two Gentlemen well mounted, who pass'd\nby us unsuspected, but turning suddenly upon us again, with each of 'em\na small Pistol cock'd, they very civilly demanded our Money. Gentlemen,\nsaid I, I am a Stranger; no Gentlemen said they, come quickly deliver\nwhat you have, we are in a publick Road, and can't stand arguing; but\nfinding us a little Dilatory, they whip'd the Bridles from our Horfes,\ncut our Garths, and so dismounted us; and so I and my Companion were\nvery dexterously strip'd of what they found in our Pockets, which was\nall I had about me, but my Friend reserv'd two or three Guineas in his\nFob. When they had finish'd their Business, they gallop'd different ways\ncross the Heath, and left us like a couple of Asses, to drive our Horses\nto the next Town, and carry the Saddles under our Arms; but by the\nInvention of our Garters, and some other such like Tackle, we halter'd\nour Steeds till we cou'd refit our selves better. What we lost was but\na Trifle, and 'twas done in so small a space of Time, that appear'd like\na Dream or passing Thought. It was happy either for us or them, that\nthis happen'd in the Morning when our Heads were cool, for had they\nattack'd us when warm'd up with good Liquor, I believe I should have had\nlittle regard to those Pop-guns they threatened us with. When we came to\nthe next Town, and gave the People an account of our Disaster; the\nLandlord of the Inn ask'd us, if we had ever been upon that Road before,\nand we inform'd him this was the first time, then said I have Authority\nto enroll you as Freemen upon the small Fee of each a Bottle of Wine,\nand this I take to be no Imposition, because I am plac'd here in a\nconvenient Part of the Country to advance a small sum to such as are\nrobb'd of all they have, and cannot pursue their Journey; so Gentlemen,\nif that be your Condition, I have a couple of Guineas ready for you,\nwhich I will lend upon Honour, but in Case it be not a clean Robbery,\nwhat you have conceal'd from the Diligent Highwaymen is the Landlord's\nFee as far as each a Bottle of Wine. This Merry Landlord I thought was\nvery conveniently posted to divert People after their Misfortunes, we\nnever went about to examine him, whether his Demand was customary, or\nonly a Piece of shire Wit, and an extemporary Instance of his prolifick\nGenius, but sat down, and made our selves most immoderately drunk. The\nLandlord discanted very copiously upon the ancient and modern Practise\nof Robbing upon the Road, and seem'd very much inclin'd to lessen the\nCrime. Formerly, said he, no Body robb'd upon the Road but base\nscoundrel Fellows; but now 'tis become a Gentleman-like Employment, and\nyoung Brothers of very good Families are not asham'd to spend their time\nthat way; besides the Practise is very much refin'd as to the manner,\nthere's no Fighting or Hectoring during the Performance, but these\nGentlemen approach you decently and submissive, with their Hat in their\nHand to know your Pleasure, and what you can well afford to support them\nin that Dignity they live in: 'Tis true, says he, they often for Form\nsake have a Pistol in their Hand, which is part of their riding\nFurniture; but that is only in the Nature of a Petition, to let you know\nthey are Orphans of Providence just fallen under your Protection. In a\nWord, demanding Money upon the Road, is now so agreeably perform'd,\nthat 'tis much the same with asking an Alms. The poor Beggar wou'd rob\nyou if he durst, and the Gentleman Beggar will not rob you if you will\nbut give a decent Alms suitable to his Quality. I thought my time so\nwell spent to hear this Landlord plead in favour of Padding, that I told\nmy Companion I had often known the time that I wou'd have willingly have\nparted with more Money than I was strip'd of upon the Heath, to have\nsome Melancholly Thoughts driven away by such a merry Companion.\nThe Time drawing near that I prescribed to my self to remain in\n_England_, we were now advis'd to return by the short Sea, which we\nperform'd without any Let or remarkable Accident. I have observ'd\ntowards the beginning of these Memoirs, that the War begun in 1688, was\nundertaken in Defence of Cardinal _Fastenberg_ to the Electorate of\n_Cologn_; the next War was for the Mornarchy of _Spain_, but the\nRestoration of King _James_ was always a material Article, and a very\nuseful Circumstance of the War. I need not acquaint the Reader how\n_France_ was reduced in this last bloody War, her best Troops ruin'd,\nincapable to win a Battle, every Campaign carry'd two or three of their\nbest Towns, the Nation dispirited, and Credit sunk, and nothing but a\ndismal Scene of Poverty and Misery: And yet in the midst of all this\nMisery, (as the _Spanish_ Beggars are said to strut about in their Cloak\nand Bilboes at their Side) so this Gasping Monarch had the Assurance not\nonly to talk of making a Descent, but actually equipp'd a small nimble\nFleet with a Body of Men, and persuaded the Pretender to go upon the\nfoolish Errand, as if he you'd have any prospect of Conquering the Three\nKingdoms, who was in danger every Moment of having his Capital Sack'd\nand himself turn'd out of his Throne. Cou'd there be a more Romantick\nUndertaking, or more unintelligible in all its Circumstances, than the\nPretender's Descent upon _Scotland_? The deluded Youth was carry'd to\nthe Coast of _Scotland_, but upon what Design, is a Secret to this Day.\nHe was made to believe at his departure from _Dunkirk_, that _Scotland_\nwas dissatisfy'd to a Man upon account of the Union, and that it wou'd\nbe an easie matter to Conquer _England_ by putting himself at the Head\nof a _Scotch_ Army; but when he desired to be landed to put the Project\nin Execution, the _French_ General told him, he had Orders from his\ngreat Master, that there should be no Landing. Now whether this was part\nof the old Game, and only in Order to make a Diversion, or to surprize\n_Edinburgh_ Castle, where most of the Specie of _Scotland_ was said to\nbe lodg'd at that time, is various alledg'd by Men of Speculation. That\nthere was no appearance of succeeding in the main, is pretty plain from\nmany Circumstances. _England_ with their Allies at that Time were in a\nCapacity to spare 50000 Men, against which a few poor scrambling\n_Highland_ Foot, wou'd but have made a very bad Resistance. I am not\nwilling to think _France_ would send Princes a Pilfering, or that the\nPretender was design'd to steal the Money out of _Edinburgh_ Castle, a\nStratagem much more decently committed to some Partisan, or three or\nfour _Dunkirk_ Privateers. So I think it more suitable to the Prudence,\nand for the Honour of the _French_ Court, to mention this design'd\nDescent only as a Diversion to amuse and employ the _British_ Troops at\nHome, that they might not annoy the Enemy in _Flanders_. But how this\nAffair will be reconcil'd to that Affection and Friendship _Lewis_ XIV.\nseem'd to have at that time for the Pretender, I am at a loss, with the\nrest of Mankind, to account for, since it was exposing him to the\ngreatest of hazards for a Trifle, and throwing up the Cause at once, had\nhe fallen into the Hands of his Enemies, and 'tis not the least Miracle\nof his Life that he escap'd them. I was invited to have gone abroad with\nthe Pretender upon this Expedition, being than Free, but the Project\nappear'd to me so full of Inconsistencies, I have frequently since\nenlarg'd upon my own Politicks and Foresight in that Affair.\nThus much I must say for the Jacobite Party, never were Men more baffled\nand rallied oftner upon Projects or Hopes, but the unwholesome Diet\nnever turn into the Substance, but infects the Body with peccant\nHumours, which now and then are discharg'd by Phlegbotomy, and then they\nturn to a Gangreen by Amputation. Jacobitism (I speak of it in relation\nto the strong Hopes they have of succeeding by a _French_ Power) is an\nuncurable Distemper. I have often wonder'd to hear Persons, otherwise of\ngreat Penetration and Sense, grow constantly Delirious upon this Topick.\nThe Wagers that have been lost upon that very Prospect wou'd have\npurchas'd him a little Kingdom. Time has open'd a great many People's\nEyes; but there is a set of Men who are enslaved to the _French_\nProjects, and so far infatuated, that nothing can cure them. If fooling\nhim with sham Descents, neglecting all Opportunities of assisting, if\nbanishing him, excluding him by solemn Articles, will not satisfy 'em as\nto this Particular, 'tis my Opinion they wou'd not be convinc'd, if they\nshould see _France_ chaffering for his Head, and finish the Twenty Eight\nYears old Politicks with 100000_l_. being what is set upon it. There is\nno extraordinary difference between disposing of another Man's Right,\nand disposing of his Person. There was a Time when _France_ gloried in\nthe Ostentatious Title of being the Assylum of distress'd Monarchs, and\nI remember I was once dispos'd to have almost deify'd their Monarch upon\nthat Score; but when I took the Frame of his Politics, and examin'd\nevery Wheel and Spring by which they moved, I rescued my self from the\nPrejudices I had been nurs'd up in; and though I always pursu'd the same\nEnd, yet I was a constant Enemy to their Method, which I was convinc'd\nwere all directed another Way, and that a Restoration upon a _French_\nFooting was a Chimerical Project, and that if it had taken Effect by\ntheir Arms, _England_ must have had another Doomsday-Book, and have\nsuffer'd once more under an Arbitary Discipline, more dreadful than that\nof _William the Conqueror_, from whom _England_ has been struggling to\nretrieve her self ever since. I had formerly made a Resolution with my\nself not to hearken to a Love-Intrigue, but upon a Prospect of putting\nan end to such Amusements. The long time I had been out of the Army,\ngave me several Opportunities to make Enquiry after a Person who was\ncapable of making me happy in that Respect. I took a singular Care when\nany Thing was offer'd that way, to consult my Reason more than my\nPassions, and had fix'd before my Eyes, the per-plex'd State I liv'd in\nthose Weeks I held a Correspondence with the _Spanish_ Lady. 'Tis a\ndangerous practice when a Person shuts his Eyes among Precipices, and\nneglects Consultation where the Choice is hazardous. There liv'd in\n_Paris_ a Collonel's Widow, neither very young, nor very handsome. The\nintimacy I had with her Husband, who was kill'd in _Italy_, brought me\nfirst acquainted with her. Her discreet Carriage in a great variety of\nintricate Circumstances had often Charm'd me. There was no Difficulty in\na marriage State, but she had struggled with it; a morose Husband, the\nDeath of an only Child, the Gripes of Poverty when her Consort was in\nthe Army and lavish'd away his Income, were great Tryals in which she\nalways Triumph'd, and wore a stoical Constancy without any Reservedness.\nShe had a large Pension allow'd her for Life, upon account of her\nHusband's Merits, who had done great Service during the Wars. Under\nthese Circumstances I attack'd, rather like a Judicious than a\nPassionate Lover. The Method I took with her, was quite different to\nwhat I observ'd in pursuing my _Spanish_ Mistress. There was no Balls,\nTreats, nor Serenading, we both knew the World too well, either She to\nexpect, or I to offer her such Entertainments. In a Word, our whole\nDiscourse when I visited ran upon Oeconemy and Morals. It was not long\nbefore she understood my Meaning, and that my repeated Visits tended\ntowards Marriage. She alledg'd several Things to divert me from it; that\nshe was tired with being an Officer's Wife, which oblig'd either to a\nrambling Method of Living, or to labour under great Inconveniences, and\nthat I, perhaps, might not make the best of Husbands, that State being a\nLottery full of Blanks. I had nothing more pertinent to alledge upon\nthis Occasion, than to assure her, that during my Absence in the Army\nshe should never be unprovided with what would make her easie, and for\nbeing a good Husband, I gave her all the Assurances that such a Matter\nwas capable of, and at the same time made her the Compliment, that in\ncase any misunderstanding should ever happen between us, her approv'd\nConduct and Discretion would certainly declare me Guilty. In conclusion,\nI put on the Trummels, and never question'd but I had made the most\nprudential Choice that any Person could do; but there is something in\nWoman-kind which can never be found out by Study or Reflection. 'Tis\nonly Experience that can School a Husband, and can give him a true Idea\nof that mysterious Creature; for in less than Twelve Months my Thousand\nPounds which I had so carefully kept unbroke at _Amsterdam_ was all\ndispos'd of, my Soldiers Pay being my only Subsistance for myself and\nFamily, my Wife reserving her own Income for Pin-mony; my Credit very\nlow, my Days very irksome upon many accounts, and I who had hitherto\nappear'd with Assurance in Company, because of my Money-merit, was now\nNeglected; for every Tradesman began to smell out my Poverty. I am of\nOpinion it would do Posterity no kindness, if I shou'd discover how I\ncame to be ruin'd by a Prudent Wife, for no Body wou'd Credit me. If I\nshould advise 'em to trust no Woman living, so as to give her full Scope\nupon an Opinion of her Conduct. I took my self to be as wise, upon this\nHead, as any Man living. It had been my Study above twenty Years. There\nis a secret Devil in every Woman, which is often Conjur'd down by a\nHusband's Temper; and though many Men may pass for bad Husbands by their\nMorose Carriage, 'tis less prejudicial, than that Indulgence which few\nWomen have Discretion to make use of. My Wife's first Husband was\nrepresented as not very kind to her, whereas his less obliging Temper\nwas the Effect of his Judgment, and a touch of Skill he had in managing\na Woman, whom Caresses wou'd have exalted into Impertinence, _&c._\nI would not be understood so upon this Subject, as if we lived unhappily\nas to our Affections; no, we regarded each other as two inseparable\nCompanions, not only whose Interest it was not to be at variance, but we\nreally did affectionately love each other. I cou'd not so much blame her\nas my self for if Children, Servants, _&c._ make a loose from their\nDuty, who are chiefly to be blam'd, but such gentle and restraining\nMethods did not curb 'em, but let 'em feel they had Reins in their\nHands. Thus hamper'd in Wedlock, I had nothing to give me ease but that\nthree parts of Mankind were in the same, if not in a much worse\nCondition. However, to make our Circumstances tollerable for the future,\nI perswaded my Consort to abridge her self of some superfluous Charge\nwhich we cou'd not well bear any longer. First we disposed of our Coach,\nand then our Acquaintance was reform'd of Course; by Degrees a multitude\nof modish Visitors dwindled away into two or three formal Matrons, which\nat last ended in a Decent Apartment in a Monastery, where she spent her\nTime agreeably enough when I was in the Camp. Hitherto the main matter\nwhich pall'd all my Joys, was the impossibility of a Restoration, which\nnow was much lessen'd by the concurrence of Domestick Evils, and the\nCares which attend a married State. Yet when I seriously reflected upon\nthe Conduct of _France_ in regard of King _James_ and the Pretender, I\nhave often observ'd my self to sweat and fret my self into a violent\nFever with the very Thoughts of it; but I never was so sensibly touch'd\nupon this Head as after the Battle of _Malplacket_. which was follow'd\nwith the Surrender of several Towns, so that there was nothing but the\npoor Barrier of _Landrecy_ left to save the Capital, and by Consequence,\nthe Kingdom of _France_. The _French_ King having now play'd away all\nhis Leading Cards, was now put to his Trumps. He attempts the\nTreacherous and Needy Ministers with long Bags of _Louisdo'rs,_ which\nwere all ineffectual when his Arms cou'd do no more.\n'Tis fresh in every true _Britains_ Memory, what strange Methods were\ntaken to bring about the Peace, which quickly after ensued. I shall only\nmention as much of that Affair as is requisite to make it manifest, That\n_France_ had no consideration for the Pretender's Interest during that\nTreaty. The War was begun upon account of the _Spanish_ Monarchy;\n_France_ was reduc'd to the last extremity, and could hold out no\nlonger, now the Consequence shou'd have been for _France_ to have\nsurrender'd up King _Philip_'s Title; but on the contrary it was secur'd\nto him, and by what any one can conjecture on the Equivalent, that the\nPretender should be banish'd _France_, and herafter neither directly nor\nindirectly be assisted by Force: Nay, so eagerly was _France_ bent upon\nthis Project of securing _Spain_, _France_, and neglecting the\nPretender, that 'tis well known he refus'd to be concern'd with those in\n_England_ who were willing to restore the Pretender. I shall not pretend\nto dive into the late Queen's Secrets, and how she was dispos'd that\nway. 'Tis well known she was not over real for the _Hanoverian_\nSuccession, and that the Pretender's Interest was the only one in\ncompetition with it. But where was the _French_ Zeal for the Pretender,\nwhen he had the Generalissimo and his Arms, the Secretary, the\nTreasurer, _&c._ all at his Devotion, and if the Pretender was not\nactually restor'd at that Juncture, the Remora cou'd be no where but on\nthe _French_ Side, who had a longer reach in their Politicks than the\nRestoration of the Pretender. They saw clearly bringing that about wou'd\ncreate a Civil War in _England_, and be an occasion of renewing in\n_Germany_; now their Business was a sudden Peace, and a quiet Possession\nof _Spain_. And this is the real Spirit of Politics that govern'd the\n_French_ at the Peace of _Utrecht_.\nThis kind of Management so disconcerted all the Pretenders Party who\nthen govern'd the Queen, that they flew all in Pieces, astonish'd not to\nfind the _French_ insist upon the Pretender's Right, as they had laid\nthe Design. They inform against one another, and by their unseasonable\nand discontinued Animosities threw the Queen into an Agony of Fear,\nwhich afterwards usher'd in the Agony of Death. In the mean Time\n_France_ smil'd at the disorder, and hugg'd themselves in the noble\nProject of having lost every Battle in that Bloody War, and yet obtain'd\nwhat they fought for, as they had always been Victorious, whilst the\npoor Pretender was so little consider'd by _France_, that tho' the\nMinistry was ready to assert his Title, yet _France_ wav'd it and\nsubscrib'd to his Banishment, least that Affair should ruin the Main\nProject.\nBut what I am in the next place going to observe, will make clear that\n_France_ was not only unwilling to be active in assisting the Pretender,\nbut that they were scrupulous upon the Point, and made it their Business\nto disswade him from any such Attempt. I remember I was my self in\n_Lorain_, when the News of the Queen's Decease was brought the Pretender\nby a Servant of _L.P._ He was no Stranger to the Interest he had just\nbefore with the Ministry, who still were most of 'em in Power. A Ship\nlay ready for him to waft him over, but he was arrested in his Journey\nby the _French_ King's Orders, and threatened by _M.T._ with the\nBastile, if he did not return forthwith to _Lorain_, otherwise\nconsidering the After-acts of the Gentlemen then in Play, he would very\nprobably been at St. _James_'s several Days before King _George_ left\nhis Palace at _Hanover_. This was so shocking a Treatment from the grand\nProtector of distress'd Monarchs, that the Queen Mother then at\n_Chalonois_ said this was a Key to all the mask Politics which had been\nacting 27 Years, and the very Thought of it threw her into such a\nConsternation, that she has never since recover'd it. I know 'tis\npretended that _Lewis_ XIV was now grown more scrupulous than formerly;\nhe had been in sticking to the Letter of Treaties. I shall not dispute\nwhether passing through the Country without assisting the Pretender,\ncou'd be wrested by any Logick to be acting in his Favour. But if\n_Lewis_ XIV, was scrupulous, he ought to have been so when he grew\nnearer his End; for 'tis pretended by those who are willing to represent\nhim as always a Friend to King _James_, that in despute of the Articles\nof _Utrecht_, he came into the Measures of the Duke of _Ormond_, Lord\n_Bolinbroke_, the Earl of _Mar_, &c. and had not Death in the mean time\ntaken him off, wou'd have furnish'd 'em with all Things necessary to\nhave made a Head against King _George_. This, I say, is confidently\nreported by _Lewis_ XIV's Admirers. But then they will have the\ninconsistancy to account for, why he shou'd not scruple to raise an Army\nto succour the Pretender, who a little before scrupled to let him pass'd\nwith a Couple of Servants, through his Country. For my own Part I am\nenclin'd to believe he never was so much his Friend, but died as he\ncou'd, a juggler, and that if he sign'd any thing in form of the late\nInsurrection 'twas in one of his delirious Fits which were not\ninfrequent in his latter Years. If the Regent be a just Interpreter of\nhis Actions.\nAnd to come home to the present Time, has not _France_ still the same\nregardless Dispositions towards the Pretender? Are they not ready to\nenter into any Engagement whatever to stand by the Articles of _Utrecht_\nto the greatest nicety? I know it has been aprised about, that _France_\nwas in the Design against King _George_; but as the Regent reply'd very\npertinently to the Earl of _Stairs_'s Memorial. There needs no more\nconvincing Proof that _France_ has not been meddling, than to understand\nthat both in _Scotland_ and _England_, the Rebels have been destitute\nboth of Arms and Money? The Custom-house Officers of _Great-Britain_,\nhave no Authority to search _French_ Ships as they go out of their own\nPorts, and had it not been an easy Matter to have sent what Arms they\npleas'd into _Scotland_? What occasion was their for the Pretender to\nhave sculk'd so long upon the Shoar, and stolen privately out of one of\ntheir Havens, if the Regent had encourag'd him.\nIt was no Secret to me and several others above Twenty Eight Years ago,\nthat _France_ was never sincere in this Affair; but as their Projects\ncame nearer to a Conclusion, they took less care to conceal the Secret.\nTill they had a Prospect of settling the _Spanish_ Monarchy in the House\nof _Bourbon_, they were loud and high in their Demands concerning King\n_James_; but the Hopes they conceiv'd that way, made 'em clap up a\nPeace at _Reswick_, and lay King _James_'s Interest to Sleep. When the\n_Spanish_ Project was ripe, and the Wealth of the _Indies_ ready to drop\ninto their Lap, and that they were actually to be put into Possession of\nit, the Allies were amused with two Partition Treaties, and the\nPretender sacrific'd to the same Politicks at the Treaty of _Utrecht_.\nYes he was neglected, despised, banish'd out of _France_, forc'd out of\n_Lorain_, a free State, threaten'd at _Avignon_, a Sanction never yet\nviolated, and now he and his Adherents are preparing themselves to be\nthrust into the Jaws of the _Turk_, unless the Regent out of Pity\ndeliver him up in hope of the 100000_l_. and finish the Character of\nsuccouring distress'd Monarchs, by being the Occasion of losing his Head\non _Tower-Hill_, rather than being Impail'd at _Constantinople_.\nBut before I dismiss this Matter, I am to account for several Things,\nwhich will argue the Court of St. _Germains_ guilty of the greatest\nIngratitude, unless they acknowledge the endless Obligations they lie\nunder to _France_. Has he not fed a distressed People almost Twenty\nYears, and that two in a Royal and Princely Manner? Did he not entertain\nabove 15000 _Irish_ Troops who were dismiss'd _Ireland_ by the Treaty of\n_Limerick_? Has he not constantly pay'd all the Respect imaginable to\nthe Court of St. _Germains_? promis'd King _James_ upon his Death-bed,\nhe wou'd never desist? assur'd the Son he wou'd draw his Sword, and it\nshould ne'er be sheath'd till he had fix'd him in his Throne? Has he not\nmade several chargeable Attempts to make good his Promise? Such\nPanegyricks as these have often Rung in my Ears, when the _French_ were\nbent upon extolling the Religious Disposition of the Monarch in\nprotecting an unfortunate Prince; and the Expedient was not\nunserviceable in regard of the generality of the People who easily were\nblinded with the glaring Object. But let us take this Oeconomy to\npieces, and examine every Wheel and Spring; for my part, I can regard\nthis boasted Liberality no otherwise than a very imperfect Restitution.\nDid not K. _James_ both Ruin himself and Thousands of Families meerly by\ngoing into _French_ Measures. I heard the Court of _France_ was oblig'd\nto feed all the Posterity of that unfortunate misled Multitude, who have\nbeen deluded this Twenty Nine Years by their Politicks. 'Tis what I\nbelieve what the loosest of their Casuists wou'd not refuse to oblige\n'em to upon a fair hearing of the Case. But that the Entertaining the\n_Irish_ Troops shou'd be mention'd as an Instance of _French_ Charity,\nis a very Remarkable piece of Assurance. The _Swiss_ and other States\nare consider'd with large annual Pensions for the Privilege of Listing\nMen, besides double Pay during the Time of their Service; but the\n_Irish_ and all the rest of King _James_'s Subjects, poor Fools, must\nthink themselves happy to bear the brunt of every Siege and Engagement,\nfor half Pay, be regarded as Beggars, living upon Charity, be reform'd\nand abandon'd when they are no further useful. The Honour purchas'd by\nthese distress'd People at _Cremina_, _Luzara_, _Spireback_, _Almaza_,\n_Friburg_, _&c._ have merrited better Articles, and the Blood they have\nlost is a large disbursement for the Expences at St. _Germains_. A few\n_French_ Compliments paid once a Week at St. _Germains_, is but a poor\nrecompence for a ruin'd People, especially when the Origin and Motive of\ntheir Misfortunes are look'd into. And the Gasconades and Politick,\nPromises made both to the Father and the Son of never sheathing the\nSword with the Sham Attempts in their Favour, will be recorded in\nAntiquity, not as Arguments of his Christianity, but strong Lines of\nPolicy how a Prince is to make use of all Occurrences to promote the\nwelfare of his own People, nothing, being more successful in such\njunctures, than a Pretence of Religion, and assisting Persons in\ndistress.\nHaving brought my Remarks to this Period, I design'd to have drop'd my\nPen immediately, but considering that a Judicious Reader will expect I\nshould advance something by way of Principle to justify the Reflexions I\nhave made. I must add a Word or two more concerning the unjust, as well\nas unpolitick Proceedings of those who have been deluded by a Foreign\nPower to bring Destruction to their own native Country. And in the first\nplace I must deliver my Thoughts as to the Cause in General. The\nQuestion of Hereditary, was not so well clear'd at the Revolution, but\nthat many very discerning and well meaning Men might be drawn into a\nBelief, that lineal and immediate Right was part of the Divine Law, and\nso not dispensable. This was my Opinion in the Beginning, and it was a\nPrinciple which carried me through the Wars this Twenty Nine Years in\nFavour of King _James_, even at those Times, when I was fully convinc'd\nthat _France_ had no real Design to re-establish him. But afterwards\nwhen I began to look narrowly into the Question of Hereditary Right, and\nsaw that the Notion of _Jure Divino_ was only an assum'd Principle to\nbuoy up the Faction. I by Degrees slacken'd in my Zeal, and having no\nother Nation of Government, then by submitting to the Supream National\nPower, where the Law of God was silent, I found this an effectual Means\nto quiet my Conscience. However I still persisted and follow'd the\nPretender's Cause, the Success of the Roman-Catholick Interest provoking\nme to it: For I imagin'd that Salvo ought to weigh down in Practise,\nwhere other Matters relating to Succession were still under Controversy;\nbut when I took under serious Consideration the Practise of our\nAncestors, and how in all Ages both Church and State came frequently\ninto Non-Hereditary Measures, where I run over the String of\nDisappointments King _James_ had met withal by the Politic Management\n_of France_. When I reflected what Misery had befallen, and was like to\nbefall these Kings by adhering to the besoted Notion of Hereditary\nRight, I put the whole Controversy upon the Issue of Religion, and it\nplainly appear'd to me, that no Roman Catholick was oblig'd to oppose\nthe Revolutionary Measures in Conscience, much less in Policy. I was\nfully satisfy'd in the first Part of the Enquiry by that unanswerable\nPiece lately printed, call'd, _A Roman Catholick System of Allegiance_.\nAs for the latter Part, let the Tory and Roman Catholick Party sum up\ntheir Losses since 1688, and it will convince 'em how foolishly they\nacted. Thus settled in my Principles in regard of Loyalty, I design'd to\npay an intire and unlimited Obedience to the present Constitution; as to\nmy Religion, which I own is not conformable to that by Law Established.\nI will make a discreet Use of that Indulgence the Government is pleas'd\nto allow; and if Providence thinks fit to make me Suffer upon that\nScore, no rational Man will blame my Zeal till he does convince me of my\nMistake.\n_FINIS_", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Memoirs of Major Alexander Ramkins (1718)\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Transcriber\u2019s Note: Italic text is enclosed in _underscores_.\n[Illustration: (cover)]\nROBINSON CRUSOE\n[Illustration: \u201c_For a mile, or thereabouts, my raft went very\nwell_--\u201d]\n[Illustration:\n                     Cosmopolitan Book Corporation\nILLUSTRATOR\u2019S PREFACE\nThe universal fame of The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe is\nsecond only to the Bible. Notwithstanding its simple narrative style,\nas well as the absence of the supposedly indispensable _love_ motive,\nno modern book can boast of such world-wide esteem.\nWritten by Daniel Defoe and published in England in 1719 by William\nTaylor, the Life and Adventures won immediate popularity. Its\nphenomenal success called forth five reprintings in rapid succession.\nIn the following year came translations into French, German and Dutch,\nmarking the beginning of an unprecedented series of translations into\nmany other languages and dialects.\nAnd now, after two centuries, the story still stands secure and\nenduring--a monumental human document.\nHundreds of illustrated editions of The Life and Adventures of Robinson\nCrusoe have been published, and many more will follow, but I, like most\nillustrators enthusiastic in their work, have anticipated for years the\nopportunity which is now offered to me in the present edition.\nThe outstanding appeal of this fascinating romance to me personally is\nthe remarkably sustained sensation one enjoys of Crusoe\u2019s contact with\nthe elements--the sea and the sun, the night and the storms, the sand,\nrocks, vegetation and animal life. In few books can the reader breathe,\nlive and move with his hero so intensely, so easily and so consistently\nthroughout the narrative. In Robinson Crusoe we have it; here is a\nstory that becomes history, history living and moving, carrying with it\nirresistibly the compelling motive of a lone man\u2019s conquest over what\nseems to be inexorable Fate.\nDo my pictures add a little to the vividness of this story? Do I aid\na little in the clearer vizualization of Robinson Crusoe as he moves\nabout on his sunny island? That is the most I can hope for.\nChadd\u2019s Ford, Pa., 1920.\nCONTENTS\n  ROBINSON\u2019S FAMILY--HIS ELOPEMENT FROM HIS PARENTS                    1\n  CHAPTER II\n  FIRST ADVENTURES AT SEA--EXPERIENCE OF A MARITIME LIFE--VOYAGE\n  CHAPTER III\n  ROBINSON\u2019S CAPTIVITY AT SALLEE--ESCAPE WITH XURY--ARRIVAL AT\n  CHAPTER IV\n  HE SETTLES IN THE BRAZILS AS A PLANTER--MAKES ANOTHER VOYAGE\n  CHAPTER V\n  ROBINSON FINDS HIMSELF ON A DESOLATE ISLAND AND PROCURES\n      A STOCK OF ARTICLES FROM THE WRECK--HE CONSTRUCTS HIS\n  CHAPTER VI\n  ROBINSON CARRIES ALL HIS RICHES, PROVISIONS, ETC., INTO HIS\n      HABITATION--DREARINESS OF SOLITUDE--CONSOLATORY REFLECTIONS\n  CHAPTER VII\n  ROBINSON\u2019S MODE OF RECKONING TIME--DIFFICULTIES ARISING FROM\n      WANT OF TOOLS--HE ARRANGES HIS HABITATION                       83\n  CHAPTER VIII\n  ROBINSON\u2019S JOURNAL--DETAILS OF HIS DOMESTIC ECONOMY AND\n      CONTRIVANCES--SHOCK OF AN EARTHQUAKE                            91\n  CHAPTER IX\n  ROBINSON OBTAINS MORE ARTICLES FROM THE WRECK--HIS ILLNESS AND\n  CHAPTER X\n  HIS RECOVERY--HIS COMFORT IN READING THE SCRIPTURES--HE MAKES\n      AN EXCURSION INTO THE INTERIOR OF THE ISLAND--FORMS HIS\n  CHAPTER XI\n  ROBINSON MAKES A TOUR TO EXPLORE HIS ISLAND--EMPLOYED IN BASKET\n  CHAPTER XII\n  HE RETURNS TO HIS CAVE--HIS AGRICULTURAL LABORS AND SUCCESS\n  CHAPTER XIII\n  HIS MANUFACTURE OF POTTERY, AND CONTRIVANCES FOR BAKING BREAD\n  CHAPTER XIV\n  MEDITATES HIS ESCAPE FROM THE ISLAND--BUILDS A CANOE--FAILURE\n      OF HIS SCHEME AND RESIGNATION TO HIS CONDITION--HE MAKES\n  CHAPTER XV\n  HE MAKES A SMALLER CANOE IN WHICH HE ATTEMPTS TO CRUISE ROUND\n      THE ISLAND--HIS PERILOUS SITUATION AT SEA--HE RETURNS HOME\n  CHAPTER XVI\n  HE REARS A FLOCK OF GOATS--HIS DIARY--HIS DOMESTIC HABITS AND\n      STYLE OF LIVING--INCREASING PROSPERITY                         192\n  CHAPTER XVII\n  UNEXPECTED ALARM--CAUSE FOR APPREHENSION--HE FORTIFIES HIS\n  CHAPTER XVIII\n  PRECAUTIONS AGAINST SURPRISE--ROBINSON DISCOVERS THAT HIS\n      ISLAND HAS BEEN VISITED BY CANNIBALS                           215\n  CHAPTER XIX\n  ROBINSON DISCOVERS A CAVE, WHICH SERVES HIM AS A RETREAT\n  CHAPTER XX\n  ANOTHER VISIT OF THE SAVAGES--ROBINSON SEES THEM DANCING--HE\n  CHAPTER XXI\n  HE VISITS THE WRECK AND OBTAINS MANY STORES FROM IT--AGAIN\n      THINKS OF QUITTING THE ISLAND--HAS A REMARKABLE DREAM          249\n  CHAPTER XXII\n  ROBINSON RESCUES ONE OF THEIR CAPTIVES FROM THE SAVAGES, WHOM\n      HE NAMES FRIDAY, AND MAKES HIS SERVANT                         266\n  CHAPTER XXIII\n  ROBINSON INSTRUCTS AND CIVILIZES HIS MAN FRIDAY AND ENDEAVORS\n      TO GIVE HIM AN IDEA OF CHRISTIANITY                            279\n  CHAPTER XXIV\n  ROBINSON AND FRIDAY BUILD A CANOE TO CARRY THEM TO FRIDAY\u2019S\n      COUNTRY--THEIR SCHEME PREVENTED BY THE ARRIVAL OF A PARTY\n  CHAPTER XXV\n  ROBINSON RELEASES A SPANIARD--FRIDAY DISCOVERS HIS\n      FATHER--ACCOMMODATION PROVIDED FOR THESE NEW GUESTS,\n      WHO WERE AFTERWARD SENT TO LIBERATE THE OTHER\n      SPANIARDS--ARRIVAL OF AN ENGLISH VESSEL                        310\n  CHAPTER XXVI\n  ROBINSON DISCOVERS HIMSELF TO THE ENGLISH CAPTAIN--ASSISTS HIM\n      IN REDUCING HIS MUTINOUS CREW, WHO SUBMIT TO HIM               335\n  CHAPTER XXVII\n  ATKINS ENTREATS THE CAPTAIN TO SPARE HIS LIFE--THE LATTER\n      RECOVERS HIS VESSEL FROM THE MUTINEERS, AND ROBINSON LEAVES\nTHE ILLUSTRATIONS\n  \u201cFor a mile, or thereabouts, my raft went very well--\u201d  _Frontispiece_\n  \u201cMy father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent\n      counsel against what he foresaw was my design\u201d                   2\n  \u201c--and making it into a great cross, I set it up on the shore\n  \u201cAll this while I sat upon the ground, very much terrified and\n  \u201cIn the morning I took the Bible; and beginning at the New\n      Testament, I began seriously to read it--\u201d                     126\n  \u201cI reaped it my way, for I cut nothing off but the ears, and\n      carried it away in a great basket which I had made\u201d            154\n  \u201c--and thus I every now and then took a little voyage upon the\n  \u201cI stood like one thunderstruck, or as if I had seen an\n  \u201cI laid me down flat on my belly on the ground, and began to\n  \u201c--and then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground, and\n      taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head\u201d              270\n  \u201c--we cut and hewed the outside into the true shape of a boat\u201d\n  \u201c--and no sooner had he the arms in his hands but, as if they\n      had put new vigor into him, he flew upon his murderers like\n  \u201cAt first, for some time I was not able to answer him one word;\n      but as he had taken me in his arms, I held fast by him, or\n          NOTE. _The paintings by Mr. N.\u00a0C. Wyeth, reproduced\n          in this volume, are fully protected by copyright._\nROBINSON CRUSOE\nCHAPTER I\n_Robinson\u2019s Family--His Elopement from His Parents_\nI was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family,\nthough not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who\nsettled first at Hull. He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving\noff his trade, lived afterward at York, from whence he had married my\nmother, whose relations were named Robinson, a very good family in that\ncountry, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but by the\nusual corruption of words in England we are now called, nay, we call\nourselves, and write our name, Crusoe, and so my companions always\ncalled me.\nI had two elder brothers, one of which was lieutenant-colonel to an\nEnglish regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous\nColonel Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near Dunkirk against the\nSpaniards; what became of my second brother I never knew, any more than\nmy father and mother did know what was become of me.\nBeing the third son of the family, and not bred to any trade, my head\nbegan to be filled very early with rambling thoughts. My father, who\nwas very old, had given me a competent share of learning, as far as\nhouse-education and a country free school generally goes, and designed\nme for the law; but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to\nsea; and my inclination to this led me so strongly against the will,\nnay, the commands, of my father, and against all the entreaties and\npersuasions of my mother and other friends, that there seemed to be\nsomething fatal in that propension of nature tending directly to the\nlife of misery which was to befall me.\n[Illustration: \u201c_My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and\nexcellent counsel against what he foresaw was my design_\u201d]\nMy father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel\nagainst what he foresaw was my design. He called me one morning into\nhis chamber, where he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very\nwarmly with me upon this subject. He asked me what reasons more than a\nmere wandering inclination I had for leaving my father\u2019s house and my\nnative country, where I might be well introduced, and had a prospect of\nraising my fortunes by application and industry, with a life of ease\nand pleasure. He told me it was for men of desperate fortunes on one\nhand, or of aspiring, superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad\nupon adventures, to rise by enterprise, and make themselves famous in\nundertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were\nall either too far above me, or too far below me; that mine was the\nmiddle state or what might be called the upper station of low life,\nwhich he had found by long experience was the best state in the world,\nthe most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries and\nhardships, the labor and sufferings, of the mechanic part of mankind,\nand not embarrassed with the pride, luxury, ambition, and envy of the\nupper part of mankind. He told me I might judge of the happiness of\nthis state by this one thing, viz., that this was the state of life\nwhich all other people envied; that kings have frequently lamented the\nmiserable consequences of being born to great things, and wished they\nhad been placed in the middle of the two extremes, between the mean and\nthe great; that the wise man gave his testimony to this as the just\nstandard of true felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty nor\nriches.\nHe bid me observe it, and I should always find, that the calamities\nof life were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind; but\nthat the middle station had the fewest disasters, and was not exposed\nto so many vicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind. Nay,\nthey were not subjected to so many distempers and uneasiness either\nof body or mind as those were who, by vicious living, luxury, and\nextravagances on one hand, or by hard labor, want of necessaries, and\nmean or insufficient diet on the other hand, bring distempers upon\nthemselves by the natural consequences of their way of living; that\nthe middle station of life was calculated for all kind of virtues\nand all kind of enjoyments; that peace and plenty were the handmaids\nof a middle fortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health,\nsociety, all agreeable diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were\nthe blessings attending the middle station of life; that this way men\nwent silently and smoothly through the world, and comfortably out of\nit, not embarrassed with the labors of the hands or of the head, not\nsold to the life of slavery for daily bread, or harassed with perplexed\ncircumstances, which rob the soul of peace, and the body of rest; not\nenraged with the passion of envy, or secret burning lust of ambition\nfor great things; but in easy circumstances sliding gently through the\nworld, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living, without the bitter,\nfeeling that they are happy, and learning by every day\u2019s experience to\nknow it more sensibly.\nAfter this, he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate\nmanner, not to play the young man, not to precipitate myself into\nmiseries which Nature and the station of life I was born in seemed to\nhave provided against; that I was under no necessity of seeking my\nbread; that he would do well for me, and endeavor to enter me fairly\ninto the station of life which he had been just recommending to me;\nand that if I was not very easy and happy in the world it must be my\nmere fate or fault that must hinder it, and that he should have nothing\nto answer for, having thus discharged his duty in warning me against\nmeasures which he knew would be to my hurt; in a word, that as he would\ndo very kind things for me if I would stay and settle at home as he\ndirected, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes, as to\ngive me any encouragement to go away. And to close all, he told me\nI had my elder brother for an example, to whom he had used the same\nearnest persuasions to keep him from going into the Low Country wars,\nbut could not prevail, his young desires prompting him to run into\nthe army, where he was killed; and though he said he would not cease\nto pray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if I did take\nthis foolish step, God would not bless me, and I would have leisure\nhereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel when there\nmight be none to assist in my recovery.\nI observed in this last part of his discourse, which was truly\nprophetic, though I suppose my father did not know it to be so\nhimself--I say, I observed the tears run down his face very\nplentifully, and especially when he spoke of my brother who was killed;\nand that when he spoke of my having leisure to repent, and none to\nassist me, he was so moved, that he broke off the discourse, and told\nme, his heart was so full he could say no more to me.\nI was sincerely affected with this discourse, as, indeed, who could be\notherwise; and I resolved not to think of going abroad any more, but to\nsettle at home according to my father\u2019s desire.\nBut alas! a few days wore it all off; and, in short, to prevent any of\nmy father\u2019s farther importunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to\nrun quite away from him. However, I did not act so hastily neither as\nmy first heat of resolution prompted, but I took my mother, at a time\nwhen I thought her a little pleasanter than ordinary, and told her,\nthat my thoughts were so entirely bent upon seeing the world, that I\nshould never settle to anything with resolution enough to go through\nwith it, and my father had better give me his consent than force me to\ngo without it; that I was now eighteen years old, which was too late to\ngo apprentice to a trade, or clerk to an attorney; that I was sure if I\ndid, I should never serve out my time, and I should certainly run away\nfrom my master before my time was out, and go to sea; and if she would\nspeak to my father to let me go but one voyage abroad, if I came home\nagain and did not like it, I would go no more, and I would promise by a\ndouble diligence to recover that time I had lost.\nThis put my mother into a great passion. She told me, she knew it would\nbe to no purpose to speak to my father upon any such subject; that he\nknew too well what was my interest to give his consent to anything so\nmuch for my hurt, and that she wondered how I could think of any such\nthing after such a discourse as I had had with my father, and such kind\nand tender expressions as she knew my father had used to me; and that,\nin short, if I would ruin myself there was no help for me; but I might\ndepend I should never have their consent to it; that for her part, she\nwould not have so much hand in my destruction, and I should never have\nit to say that my mother was willing when my father was not.\nThough my mother refused to move it to my father, yet, as I have heard\nafterwards, she reported all the discourse to him, and that my father,\nafter showing a great concern at it, said to her with a sigh, \u201cThat boy\nmight be happy if he would stay at home, but if he goes abroad he will\nbe the miserablest wretch that was ever born: I can give no consent to\nit.\u201d\nIt was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose, though in\nthe meantime I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling\nto business, and frequently expostulating with my father and mother\nabout their being so positively determined against what they knew my\ninclinations prompted me to. But being one day at Hull, where I went\ncasually, and without any purpose of making an elopement that time;\nbut I say, being there, and one of my companions being going by sea to\nLondon, in his father\u2019s ship, and prompting me to go with them, with\nthe common allurement of seafaring men, viz., that it should cost me\nnothing for my passage, I consulted neither father nor mother any more,\nnor so much as sent them word of it; but leaving them to hear of it as\nthey might, without asking God\u2019s blessing, or my father\u2019s, without any\nconsideration of circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God\nknows.\nCHAPTER II\n_First Adventures at Sea--Experience of a Maritime Life--Voyage to\nGuinea_\nOn the 1st of September, 1651, I went on board a ship bound for London.\nNever any young adventurer\u2019s misfortunes, I believe, began sooner,\nor continued longer than mine. The ship was no sooner gotten out of\nthe Humber, but the wind began to blow, and the waves to rise in a\nmost frightful manner; and as I had never been at sea before, I was\nmost inexpressibly sick in body, and terrified in my mind. I began\nnow seriously to reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was\novertaken by the judgment of heaven for my wickedness in leaving my\nfather\u2019s house, and abandoning my duty; all the good counsel of my\nparents, my father\u2019s tears and my mother\u2019s entreaties, came now fresh\ninto my mind, and my conscience, which was not yet come to the pitch of\nhardness which it has been since, reproached me with the contempt of\nadvice, and the breach of my duty to God and my father.\nAll this while the storm increased, and the sea, which I had never\nbeen upon before, went very high, though nothing like what I have\nseen many times since; no, nor like what I saw a few days after. But\nit was enough to affect me then, who was but a young sailor, and had\nnever known anything of the matter. I expected every wave would have\nswallowed us up, and that every time the ship fell down, as I thought,\nin the trough or hollow of the sea, we should never rise more; and in\nthis agony of mind I made many vows and resolutions, that if it would\nplease God here to spare my life this one voyage, if ever I once got\nmy foot upon dry land again, I would go directly home to my father,\nand never set it into a ship again while I lived; that I would take\nhis advice, and never run myself into such miseries as these any more.\nNow I saw plainly the goodness of his observations about the middle\nstation of life, how easy, how comfortably he had lived all his days,\nand never had been exposed to tempests at sea, or troubles on shore;\nand I resolved that I would, like a true repenting prodigal, go home to\nmy father.\nThese wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the storm\ncontinued, and indeed some time after; but the next day the wind\nwas abated and the sea calmer, and I began to be a little inured to\nit. However, I was very grave for all that day, being also a little\nsea-sick still; but towards night the weather cleared up, the wind was\nquite over, and a charming fine evening followed; the sun went down\nperfectly clear, and rose so the next morning; and having little or no\nwind, and a smooth sea, the sun shining upon it, the sight was, as I\nthought, the most delightful that ever I saw.\nI had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick but very\ncheerful, looking with wonder upon the sea that was so rough and\nterrible the day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in so\nlittle time after. And now lest my good resolutions should continue,\nmy companion, who had indeed enticed me away, came to me: \u201cWell, Bob,\u201d\nsaid he, clapping me on the shoulder, \u201chow do you do after it? I\nwarrant you were frightened, wa\u2019n\u2019t you, last night, when it blew but a\ncapful of wind?\u201d \u201cA capful, d\u2019you call it?\u201d said I; \u201c\u2019twas a terrible\nstorm.\u201d \u201cA storm, you fool you,\u201d replied he; \u201cdo you call that a storm?\nWhy, it was nothing at all; give us but a good ship and sea-room, and\nwe think nothing of such a squall of wind as that; but you\u2019re but a\nfresh-water sailor, Bob. Come, let us make a bowl of punch, and we\u2019ll\nforget all that; d\u2019ye see what charming weather \u2019tis now?\u201d To make\nshort this sad part of my story, we went the old way of all sailors;\nthe punch was made, and I was made drunk with it, and in that one\nnight\u2019s wickedness I drowned all my repentance, all my reflections upon\nmy past conduct, and all my resolutions for my future. In a word, as\nthe sea was returned to its smoothness of surface and settled calmness\nby the abatement of that storm, so the hurry of my thoughts being over,\nmy fears and apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being\nforgotten, and the current of my former desires returned, I entirely\nforgot the vows and promises that I made in my distress. I found\nindeed some intervals of reflection, and the serious thoughts did, as\nit were, endeavor to return again sometimes; but I shook them off,\nand roused myself from them as it were from a distemper, and applying\nmyself to drink and company, soon mastered the return of those fits,\nfor so I called them, and I had in five or six days got as complete a\nvictory over conscience as any young fellow that resolved not to be\ntroubled with it could desire. But I was to have another trial for it\nstill; and Providence, as in such cases generally it does, resolved\nto leave me entirely without excuse. For if I would not take this for\na deliverance, the next was to be such a one as the worst and most\nhardened wretch among us would confess both the danger and the mercy.\nThe sixth day of our being at sea we came into Yarmouth Roads; the wind\nhaving been contrary and the weather calm, we had made but little way\nsince the storm. Here we were obliged to come to an anchor, and here we\nlay, the wind continuing contrary, viz., at south-west, for seven or\neight days, during which time a great many ships from Newcastle came\ninto the same roads, as the common harbor where the ships might wait\nfor a wind for the river.\nWe had not, however, rid here so long, but should have tided it up the\nriver, but that the wind blew too fresh; and after we had lain four or\nfive days, blew very hard. However, the roads being reckoned as good as\na harbor, the anchorage good, and our ground-tackle very strong, our\nmen were unconcerned, and not in the least apprehensive of danger, but\nspent the time in rest and mirth, after the manner of the sea; but the\neighth day in the morning the wind increased, and we had all hands at\nwork to strike our top-masts, and make everything snug and close, that\nthe ship might ride as easy as possible. By noon the sea went very high\nindeed, and our ship rid forecastle in, shipped several seas, and we\nthought once or twice our anchor had come home; upon which our master\nordered out the sheet-anchor, so that we rode with two anchors ahead,\nand the cables veered out to the bitter end.\nBy this time it blew a terrible storm indeed, and now I began to see\nterror and amazement in the faces even of the seamen themselves. The\nmaster, though vigilant to the business of preserving the ship, yet\nas he went in and out of his cabin by me, I could hear him softly to\nhimself say several times, \u201cLord be merciful to us, we shall be all\nlost, we shall be all undone\u201d; and the like. During these first hurries\nI was stupid, lying still in my cabin, which was in the steerage, and\ncannot describe my temper; I could ill re-assume the first penitence,\nwhich I had so apparently trampled upon, and hardened myself against; I\nthought the bitterness of death had been past, and that this would be\nnothing too, like the first. But when the master himself came by me,\nas I said just now, and said we should be all lost, I was dreadfully\nfrightened; I got up out of my cabin, and looked out. But such a dismal\nsight I never saw; the sea went mountains high, and broke upon us every\nthree or four minutes; when I could look about, I could see nothing\nbut distress round us. Two ships that rode near us we found had cut\ntheir masts by the board, being deep laden; and our men cried out,\nthat a ship which rode about a mile ahead of us was foundered. Two\nmore ships being driven from their anchors, were run out of the roads\nto sea at all adventures, and that with not a mast standing. The light\nships fared the best, as not so much laboring in the sea; but two or\nthree of them drove, and came close by us, running away with only their\nsprit-sail out before the wind.\nToward evening the mate and boatswain begged the master of our ship\nto let them cut away the fore-mast, which he was very unwilling to.\nBut the boatswain protesting to him that if he did not the ship would\nfounder, he consented; and when they had cut away the fore-mast, the\nmain-mast stood so loose, and shook the ship so much, they were obliged\nto cut her away also, and make a clear deck.\nAny one may judge what a condition I must be in at all this, who was\nbut a young sailor, and who had been in such a fright before at but\na little. But if I can express at this distance the thoughts I had\nabout me at that time, I was in tenfold more horror of mind upon\naccount of my former convictions, and the having returned from them\nto the resolutions I had wickedly taken at first, than I was at death\nitself; and these, added to the terror of the storm, put me into such\na condition, that I can by no words describe it. But the worst was\nnot come yet; the storm continued with such fury, that the seamen\nthemselves acknowledged they had never known a worse.\nWe had a good ship, but she was deep laden, and wallowed in the sea,\nthat the seamen every now and then cried out she would founder. It was\nmy advantage in one respect, that I did not know what they meant by\nfounder till I inquired.\nHowever, the storm was so violent, that I saw what is not often seen,\nthe master, the boatswain, and some others more sensible than the rest,\nat their prayers, and expecting every moment that the ship would go\nto the bottom. In the middle of the night, and under all the rest of\nour distresses, one of the men that had been down on the purpose to\nsee cried out we had sprung a leak; another said there was four foot\nof water in the hold. Then all hands were called to the pump. At that\nvery word my heart, as I thought, died within me, and I fell backwards\nupon the side of my bed where I sat, into the cabin. However, the men\nroused me, and told me, that I, that was able to do nothing before, was\nas well able to pump as another; at which I stirred up and went to the\npump and worked very heartily. While this was doing, the master seeing\nsome light colliers, who, not able to ride out the storm, were obliged\nto slip and run away to sea, and would come near us, ordered to fire\na gun as a signal of distress. I, who knew nothing what that meant,\nwas so surprised that I thought the ship had broke, or some dreadful\nthing had happened. In a word, I was so surprised that I fell down in a\nswoon. As this was a time when everybody had his own life to think of,\nnobody minded me, or what was become of me; but another man stepped up\nto the pump, and thrusting me aside with his foot, let me lie, thinking\nI had been dead; and it was a great while before I came to myself.\nWe worked on, but the water increasing in the hold, it was apparent\nthat the ship would founder, and though the storm began to abate a\nlittle, yet as it was not possible she could swim till we might run\ninto a port, so the master continued firing guns for help; and a light\nship, who had rid it out just ahead of us, ventured a boat out to help\nus. It was with the utmost hazard the boat came near us, but it was\nimpossible for us to get on board, or for the boat to lie near the\nship\u2019s side, till at last the men rowing very heartily, and venturing\ntheir lives to save ours, our men cast them a rope over the stern with\na buoy to it, and then veered it out a great length, which they after\ngreat labor and hazard took hold of, and we hauled them close under\nour stern, and got all into their boat. It was to no purpose for them\nor us after we were in the boat to think of reaching to their own ship,\nso all agreed to let her drive, and only to pull her in towards shore\nas much as we could, and our master promised them that if the boat was\nstaved upon shore he would make it good to their master; so partly\nrowing and partly driving, our boat went away to the norward, sloping\ntowards the shore almost as far as Winterton Ness.\nWe were not much more than a quarter of an hour out of our ship but\nwe saw her sink, and then I understood for the first time what was\nmeant by a ship foundering in the sea. I must acknowledge I had hardly\neyes to look up when the seamen told me she was sinking; for from that\nmoment they rather put me into the boat than that I might be said to go\nin; my heart was as it were dead within me, partly with fright, partly\nwith horror of mind and the thoughts of what was yet before me.\nWhile we were in this condition, the men yet laboring at the oar to\nbring the boat near the shore, we could see, when, our boat mounting\nthe waves, we were able to see the shore, a great many people running\nalong the shore to assist us when we should come near. But we made\nbut slow way towards the shore, nor were we able to reach the shore,\ntill being past the lighthouse at Winterton, the shore falls off to\nthe westward towards Cromer, and so the land broke off a little the\nviolence of the wind. Here we got in, and though not without much\ndifficulty got all safe on shore, and walked afterwards on foot to\nYarmouth, where, as unfortunate men, we were used with great humanity\nas well by the magistrates of the town, who assigned us good quarters,\nas by particular merchants and owners of ships, and had money given us\nsufficient to carry us either to London or back to Hull, as we thought\nfit.\nHad I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull and have gone home,\nI had been happy, and my father, an emblem of our blessed Savior\u2019s\nparable, had even killed the fatted calf for me; for hearing the ship\nI went away in was cast away in Yarmouth Road, it was a great while\nbefore he had any assurance that I was not drowned.\nBut my ill-fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy that nothing could\nresist; and though I had several times loud calls from my reason and my\nmore composed judgment to go home, yet I had no power to do it. I know\nnot what to call this, nor will I urge that it is a secret overruling\ndecree that hurries us on to be the instruments of our own destruction,\neven though it be before us, and that we rush upon it with our eyes\nopen. Certainly nothing but some such decreed unavoidable misery\nattending, and which it was impossible for me to escape, could have\npushed me forward against the calm reasonings and persuasions of my\nmost retired thoughts, and against two such visible instructions as I\nhad met with in my first attempt.\nMy comrade, who had helped to harden me before, and who was the\nmaster\u2019s son, was now less forward than I. The first time he spoke to\nme after we were at Yarmouth, which was not till two or three days, for\nwe were separated in the town to several quarters--I say, the first\ntime he saw me, it appeared his tone was altered, and looking very\nmelancholy and shaking his head, asked me how I did, and telling his\nfather who I was, and how I had come this voyage only for a trial in\norder to get farther abroad, his father turning to me with a very grave\nand concerned tone, \u201cYoung man,\u201d said he, \u201cyou ought never to go to sea\nany more, you ought to take this for a plain and visible token, that\nyou are not to be a seafaring man.\u201d \u201cWhy, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cwill you go\nto sea no more?\u201d \u201cThat is another case,\u201d said he; \u201cit is my calling,\nand therefore, my duty; but as you made this voyage for a trial, you\nsee what a taste Heaven has given you of what you are to expect if you\npersist; perhaps this is all befallen us on your account, like Jonah in\nthe ship of Tarshish. Pray,\u201d continued he, \u201cwhat are you? and on what\naccount did you go to sea?\u201d Upon that I told him some of my story, at\nthe end of which he burst out with a strange kind of passion. \u201cWhat\nhad I done,\u201d said he, \u201cthat such an unhappy wretch should come into\nmy ship? I would not set my foot in the same ship with thee again for\na thousand pounds.\u201d This indeed was, as I said, an excursion of his\nspirits, which were yet agitated by the sense of his loss, and was\nfarther than he could have authority to go. However, he afterwards\ntalked very gravely to me, exhorted me to go back to my father, and\nnot tempt Providence to my ruin; told me I might see a visible hand\nof Heaven against me. \u201cAnd, young man,\u201d said he, \u201cdepend upon it, if\nyou do not go back, wherever you go you will meet with nothing but\ndisasters and disappointments, till your father\u2019s words are fulfilled\nupon you.\u201d\nWe parted soon after; for I made him little answer, and I saw him no\nmore; which way he went, I know not. As for me, having some money in\nmy pocket, I travelled to London by land; and there, as well as on the\nroad, had many struggles with myself what course of life I should take,\nand whether I should go home, or go to sea.\nAs to going home, shame opposed the best motions that offered to my\nthoughts; and it immediately occurred to me how I should be laughed at\namong the neighbors, and should be ashamed to see, not my father and\nmother only, but even everybody else; from whence I have since often\nobserved how incongruous and irrational the common temper of mankind\nis, especially of youth, to that reason which ought to guide them in\nsuch cases, viz., that they are not ashamed to sin, and yet are ashamed\nto repent; not ashamed of the action for which they ought justly to be\nesteemed fools, but are ashamed of the returning, which only can make\nthem be esteemed wise men.\nIn this state of life, however, I remained some time, uncertain what\nmeasures to take, and what course of life to lead. An irresistible\nreluctance continued to going home; and as I stayed a while, the\nremembrance of the distress I had been in wore off; and as that abated,\nthe little motion I had in my desires to return wore off with it, till\nat last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it, and looked out for a\nvoyage.\nThat evil influence which carried me first away from my father\u2019s\nhouse, that hurried me into the wild and indigested notion of raising\nmy fortune, and that impressed those conceits so forcibly upon me as\nto make me deaf to all good advice, and to the entreaties and even\ncommand of my father--I say, the same influence, whatever it was,\npresented the most unfortunate of all enterprises to my view; and I\nwent on board a vessel bound to the coast of Africa, or, as our sailors\nvulgarly call it, a voyage to Guinea.\nIt was my great misfortune that in all these adventures I did not ship\nmyself as a sailor, whereby, though I might indeed have worked a little\nharder than ordinary, yet at the same time I had learned the duty and\noffice of a foremast man, and in time might have qualified myself for a\nmate or lieutenant, if not for a master. But as it was always my fate\nto choose for the worse, so I did here; for having money in my pocket,\nand good clothes upon my back, I would always go on board in the habit\nof a gentleman; and so I neither had any business in the ship, or\nlearned to do any.\nIt was my lot first of all to fall into pretty good company in London,\nwhich does not always happen to such loose and misguided young fellows\nas I then was; the devil generally not omitting to lay some snare for\nthem very early; but it was not so with me. I first fell acquainted\nwith the master of a ship who had been on the coast of Guinea, and who,\nhaving had very good success there, was resolved to go again; and who,\ntaking a fancy to my conversation, which was not at all disagreeable\nat that time, hearing me say I had a mind to see the world, told me if\nI would go the voyage with him I should be at no expense; I should be\nhis messmate and his companion; and if I could carry anything with me,\nI should have all the advantage of it that the trade would permit, and\nperhaps I might meet with some encouragement.\nI embraced the offer, and, entering into a strict friendship with\nthis captain, who was an honest and plain-dealing man, I went the\nvoyage with him, and carried a small adventure with me, which, by\nthe disinterested honesty of my friend the captain, I increased very\nconsiderably, for I carried about \u00a340 in such toys and trifles as the\ncaptain directed me to buy. This \u00a340 I had mustered together by the\nassistance of some of my relations whom I corresponded with, and who, I\nbelieve, got my father, or at least my mother, to contribute so much as\nthat to my first adventure.\nThis was the only voyage which I may say was successful in all my\nadventures, and which I owe to the integrity and honesty of my friend\nthe captain; under whom also I got a competent knowledge of the\nmathematics and the rules of navigation, learned how to keep an account\nof the ship\u2019s course, take an observation, and, in short, to understand\nsome things that were needful to be understood by a sailor. For, as he\ntook delight to introduce me, I took delight to learn; and, in a word,\nthis voyage made me both a sailor and a merchant; for I brought home\nfive pounds nine ounces of gold dust for my adventure, which yielded\nme in London at my return almost \u00a3300, and this filled me with those\naspiring thoughts which have since so completed my ruin.\nYet even in this voyage I had my misfortunes too; particularly, that\nI was continually sick, being thrown into a violent fever by the\nexcessive heat of the climate; our principal trading being upon the\ncoast, from the latitude of 15 degrees north even to the line itself.\nCHAPTER III\n_Robinson\u2019s Captivity at Sallee--Escape with Xury--Arrival at the\nBrazils_\nI was now set up for a Guinea trader; and my friend, to my great\nmisfortune, dying soon after his arrival, I resolved to go the same\nvoyage again, and I embarked in the same vessel with one who was his\nmate in the former voyage, and had now got the command of the ship.\nThis was the unhappiest voyage, that ever man made; for though I did\nnot carry quite \u00a3100 of my new-gained wealth, so that I had \u00a3200 left,\nand which I lodged with my friend\u2019s widow, who was very just to me,\nyet I fell into terrible misfortunes in this voyage; and the first was\nthis, viz., our ship making her course toward the Canary Islands, or\nrather between those islands and the African shore, was surprised in\nthe gray of the morning by a Turkish rover of Sallee, who gave chase\nto us with all the sail she could make. We crowded also as much canvas\nas our yards would spread, or our masts carry, to have got clear; but\nfinding the pirate gained upon us, and would certainly come up with\nus in a few hours, we prepared to fight, our ship having twelve guns,\nand the rogue eighteen. About three in the afternoon he came up with\nus, and bringing to, by mistake, just athwart our quarter, instead of\nathwart our stern, as he intended, we brought eight of our guns to bear\non that side, and poured in a broadside upon him, which made him sheer\noff again, after returning our fire and pouring in also his small-shot\nfrom near 200 men which he had on board. However, we had not a man\ntouched, all our men keeping close. He prepared to attack us again, and\nwe to defend ourselves; but laying us on board the next time upon our\nother quarter, he entered sixty men upon our decks, who immediately\nfell to cutting and hacking the decks and rigging. We plied them with\nsmall-shot, half-pikes, powder-chests, and such like, and cleared our\ndeck of them twice. However, to cut short this melancholy part of our\nstory, our ship being disabled, and three of our men killed and eight\nwounded, we were obliged to yield, and were carried all prisoners into\nSallee, a port belonging to the Moors.\nThe usage I had there was not so dreadful as at first I apprehended,\nnor was I carried up the country to the emperor\u2019s court, as the rest\nof our men were, but was kept by the captain of the rover as his\nproper prize, and made his slave, being young and nimble, and fit for\nhis business. At this surprising change of my circumstances from a\nmerchant to a miserable slave, I was perfectly overwhelmed; and now I\nlooked back upon my father\u2019s prophetic discourse to me, that I should\nbe miserable, and have none to relieve me, which I thought was now so\neffectually brought to pass, that it could not be worse; that now the\nhand of Heaven had overtaken me, and I was undone without redemption.\nBut alas; this was but a taste of the misery I was to go through, as\nwill appear in the sequel of this story.\nAs my new patron, or master, had taken me home to his house, so I was\nin hopes that he would take me with him when he went to sea again,\nbelieving that it would some time or other be his fate to be taken by\na Spanish or Portuguese man-o-war; and that then I should be set at\nliberty. But this hope of mine was soon taken away; for when he went to\nsea, he left me on shore to look after his little garden, and do the\ncommon drudgery of slaves about his house; and when he came home again\nfrom his cruise, he ordered me to lie in the cabin to look after the\nship.\nHere I meditated nothing but my escape, and what method I might take\nto effect it, but found no way that had the least probability in it.\nNothing presented to make the supposition of it rational; for I had\nnobody to communicate it to that would embark with me, no fellow-slave,\nno Englishman, Irishman, or Scotsman there but myself; so that for two\nyears, though I often pleased myself with the imagination, yet I never\nhad the least encouraging prospect of putting it in practice.\nAfter about two years an odd circumstance presented itself, which put\nthe old thought of making some attempt for my liberty again in my head.\nMy patron lying at home longer than usual without fitting out his ship,\nwhich, as I heard, was for want of money, he used constantly, once or\ntwice a week, sometimes oftener, if the weather was fair, to take the\nship\u2019s pinnace, and go out into the road a-fishing; and as he always\ntook me and a young Maresco with him to row the boat, we made him very\nmerry, and I proved very dexterous in catching fish; insomuch, that\nsometimes he would send me with a Moor, one of his kinsmen, and the\nyouth the Maresco, as they called him, to catch a dish of fish for him.\nIt happened one time that, going a-fishing in a stark calm morning, a\nfog rose so thick, that though we were not half a league from the shore\nwe lost sight of it; and rowing we knew not whither or which way, we\nlabored all day, and all the next night, and when the morning came we\nfound we had pulled off to sea instead of pulling in for the shore; and\nthat we were at least two leagues from the shore. However, we got well\nin again, though with a great deal of labor, and some danger, for the\nwind began to blow pretty fresh in the morning; but particularly we\nwere all very hungry.\nBut our patron, warned by this disaster, resolved to take more care of\nhimself for the future; and having lying by him the long-boat of our\nEnglish ship which he had taken, he resolved he would not go a-fishing\nany more without a compass and some provisions; so he ordered the\ncarpenter of his ship, who also was an English slave, to build a little\nstate-room, or cabin, in the middle of the long-boat, like that of\na barge, with a place to stand behind it to steer and haul home the\nmain-sheet, and room before for a hand or two to stand and work the\nsails. She sailed with what we call a shoulder-of-mutton sail; and the\nboom jibed over the top of the cabin, which lay very snug and low, and\nhad in it room for him to lie, with a slave or two, and a table to eat\non, with some small lockers to put in some bottles of such liquor as he\nthought fit to drink; particularly his bread, rice, and coffee.\nWe went frequently out with this boat a-fishing, and as I was most\ndexterous to catch fish for him, he never went without me. It happened\nthat he had appointed to go out in this boat, either for pleasure or\nfor fish, with two or three Moors of some distinction in that place,\nand for whom he had provided extraordinarily; and had therefore sent on\nboard the boat overnight a larger store of provisions than ordinary;\nand had ordered me to get ready three fusees with powder and shot,\nwhich were on board his ship, for that they designed some sport of\nfowling as well as fishing.\nI got all things ready as he had directed, and waited the next morning\nwith the boat, washed clean, her ancient and pendants out, and\neverything to accommodate his guests; when by and by my patron came\non board alone, and told me his guests had put off going, upon some\nbusiness that fell out, and ordered me with the man and boy, as usual,\nto go out with the boat and catch them some fish, for that his friends\nwere to sup at his house; and commanded that as soon as I had got some\nfish I should bring it home to his house; all which I prepared to do.\nThis moment my former notions of deliverance darted into my thoughts,\nfor now I found I was like to have a little ship at my command; and\nmy master being gone I prepared to furnish myself, not for a fishing\nbusiness, but for a voyage; though I knew not, neither did I so much\nas consider, whither I should steer; for anywhere, to get out of that\nplace, was my way.\nMy first contrivance was to make a pretence to speak to this Moor,\nto get something for our subsistence on board; for I told him we must\nnot presume to eat of our patron\u2019s bread. He said that was true; so\nhe brought a large basket of rusk or biscuit of their kind, and three\njars with fresh water, into the boat. I knew where my patron\u2019s case of\nbottles stood, which it was evident by the make were taken out of some\nEnglish prize; and I conveyed them into the boat while the Moor was on\nshore, as if they had been there before for our master.\nI conveyed also a great lump of beeswax into the boat, which weighed\nabove half a hundredweight, with a parcel of twine or thread, a\nhatchet, a saw, and a hammer, all which were of great use to us\nafterwards, especially the wax to make candles. Another trick I tried\nupon him, which he innocently came into also. His name was Ismael, who\nthey call Muly, or Moely; so I called to him, \u201cMoely,\u201d said I, \u201cour\npatron\u2019s guns are on board the boat; can you not get a little powder\nand shot? It may be we may kill some alcamies (a fowl like our curlews)\nfor ourselves for I know he keeps the gunner\u2019s stores in the ship.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said he, \u201cI\u2019ll bring some\u201d; and accordingly he brought a great\nleather pouch which held about a pound and a half of powder, or rather\nmore; and another with shot, that had five or six pounds with some\nbullets, and put all into the boat. At the same time I had found some\npowder of my master\u2019s in the great cabin, with which I filled one of\nthe large bottles in the case, which was almost empty, pouring what\nwas in it into another; and thus furnished with everything needful, we\nsailed out of the port to fish. The castle, which is at the entrance\nof the port, knew who we were, and took no notice of us; and we were\nnot above a mile out of the port before we hauled in our sail, and set\nus down to fish. The wind blew from the N.N.E., which was contrary to\nmy desire; for had it blown southerly I had been sure to have made\nthe coast of Spain, and at least reached to the bay of Cadiz; but my\nresolutions were, blow which way it would, I would be gone from the\nhorrid place where I was, and leave the rest to Fate.\nAfter we had fished some time and caught nothing, for when I had fish\non my hook I would not pull them up, that he might not see them, I said\nto the Moor, \u201cThis will not do; our master will not be thus served; we\nmust stand farther off.\u201d He, thinking no harm, agreed, and being in the\nhead of the boat set the sails; and as I had the helm I run the boat\nout near a league farther, and then brought her to as if I would fish;\nwhen giving the boy the helm, I stepped forward to where the Moor was,\nand making as if I stooped for something behind him, I took him by\nsurprise with my arm under his twist, and tossed him clear overboard\ninto the sea. He rose immediately, for he swam like a cork, and called\nto me, begged to be taken in, told me he would go all the world over\nwith me.\nHe swam so strong after the boat, that he would have reached me very\nquickly, there being but little wind; upon which I stepped into the\ncabin, and fetching one of the fowling-pieces, I presented it at him,\nand told him I had done him no hurt, and if he would be quiet I would\ndo him none. \u201cBut,\u201d said I, \u201cyou swim well enough to reach to the\nshore, and the sea is calm; make the best of your way to shore, and\nI will do you no harm; but if you come near the boat I\u2019ll shoot you\nthrough the head, for I am resolved to have my liberty.\u201d So he turned\nhimself about, and swam for the shore, and I make no doubt but he\nreached it with ease, for he was an excellent swimmer.\nI could have been content to have taken this Moor with me, and have\ndrowned the boy, but there was no venturing to trust him. When he was\ngone I turned to the boy, whom they called Xury, and said to him,\n\u201cXury, if you will be faithful to me I\u2019ll make you a great man; but\nif you will not stroke your face to be true to me,\u201d that is, swear by\nMahomet and his father\u2019s beard, \u201cI must throw you into the sea too.\u201d\nThe boy smiled in my face, and spoke so innocently, that I could not\nmistrust him, and swore to be faithful to me, and go all over the world\nwith me.\nWhile I was in view of the Moor who was swimming, I stood out directly\nto sea with the boat, rather stretching to windward, that they might\nthink me gone toward the straits\u2019 mouth (as indeed any one that had\nbeen in their wits must have been supposed to be); for who would have\nsupposed we would sail on to the southward to the truly barbarian\ncoast, where whole nations of negroes were sure to surround us with\ntheir canoes, and destroy us; where we could ne\u2019er once go on shore but\nwe should be devoured by savage beasts, or more merciless savages of\nhuman kind?\nBut as soon as it grew dusk in the evening, I changed my course, and\nsteered directly south and by east, bending my course a little toward\nthe east, that I might keep in with the shore; and having a fair, fresh\ngale of wind, and a smooth, quiet sea, I made such sail that I believed\nby the next day at three o\u2019clock in the afternoon, when I first made\nthe land, I could not be less than 150 miles south of Sallee; quite\nbeyond the Emperor of Morocco\u2019s dominions, or indeed of any other king\nthereabouts, for we saw no people.\nYet such was the fright I had taken at the Moors, and the dreadful\napprehensions I had of falling into their hands, that I would not stop,\nor go on shore, or come to anchor, the wind continuing fair, till I\nhad sailed in that manner five days; and then the wind shifting to the\nsouthward, I concluded also that if any of their vessels were in chase\nof me, they also would now give over; so I ventured to make to the\ncoast, and came to an anchor in the mouth of a little river, I knew not\nwhat, or where; neither what latitude, what country, what nation, or\nwhat river. I neither saw, or desired to see, any people; the principal\nthing I wanted was fresh water. We came into this creek in the evening,\nresolving to swim to shore as soon as it was dark, and discover the\ncountry; but as soon as it was quite dark we heard such dreadful\nnoises of the barking, roaring, and howling of wild creatures, of we\nknew not what kinds, that the poor boy was ready to die with fear,\nand begged of me not to go on shore till day. \u201cWell, Xury,\u201d said I,\n\u201cthen I won\u2019t; but it may be we may see men by day, who will be as bad\nto us as those lions.\u201d \u201cThen we give them the shoot gun,\u201d said Xury,\nlaughing; \u201cmake them run away.\u201d Such English Xury spoke by conversing\namong us slaves. However, I was glad to see the boy so cheerful, and\nI gave him a dram (out of our patron\u2019s case of bottles) to cheer him\nup. After all, Xury\u2019s advice was good, and I took it; we dropped our\nlittle anchor and lay still all night. I say still, for we slept none;\nfor in two or three hours we saw vast great creatures (we knew not what\nto call them) of many sorts come down to the sea-shore and run into the\nwater, wallowing and washing themselves for the pleasure of cooling\nthemselves; and they made such hideous howlings and yellings, that I\nnever indeed heard the like.\nXury was dreadfully frightened, and indeed so was I too; but we were\nboth more frightened when we heard one of these mighty creatures come\nswimming towards our boat; we could not see him, but we might hear him\nby his blowing to be a monstrous huge and furious beast. Xury said it\nwas a lion, and it might be so for aught I know; but poor Xury cried to\nme to weigh the anchor and row away. \u201cNo,\u201d says I, \u201cXury; we can slip\nour cable with the buoy to it, and go off to sea; they cannot follow us\nfar.\u201d I had no sooner said so, but I perceived the creature (whatever\nit was) within two oars\u2019 length, which something surprised me; however,\nI immediately stepped to the cabin door, and taking up my gun, fired at\nhim, upon which he immediately turned about and swam towards the shore\nagain.\nBut it is impossible to describe the horrible noises, and hideous cries\nand howlings, that were raised, as well upon the edge of the shore as\nhigher within the country, upon the noise or report of the gun, a thing\nI have some reason to believe those creatures had never heard before.\nThis convinced me that there was no going on shore for us in the night\nupon that coast; and how to venture on shore in the day was another\nquestion too; for to have fallen into the hands of any of the savages,\nhad been as bad as to have fallen into the hands of lions and tigers;\nat least we were equally apprehensive of the danger of it.\nBe that as it would, we were obliged to go on shore somewhere or other\nfor water, for we had not a pint left in the boat; when or where to get\nto it, was the point. Xury said if I would let him go on shore with one\nof the jars, he would find if there was any water and bring some to\nme. I asked him why he should go? why I should not go and he stay in\nthe boat? The boy answered with so much affection, that made me love\nhim ever after. Said he, \u201cIf wild mans come, they eat me, you go way.\u201d\n\u201cWell, Xury,\u201d said I, \u201cwe will both go; and if the wild mans come, we\nwill kill them, they shall eat neither of us.\u201d So I gave Xury a piece\nof rusk bread to eat, and a dram out of our patron\u2019s case of bottles\nwhich I mentioned before; and we hauled in the boat as near the shore\nas we thought was proper, and so waded to shore, carrying nothing but\nour arms and two jars for water.\nI did not care to go out of sight of the boat, fearing the coming of\ncanoes with savages down the river; but the boy seeing a low place\nabout a mile up the country, rambled to it; and by and by I saw him\ncome running towards me. I thought he was pursued by some savage, or\nfrightened with some wild beast, and I ran towards him to help him; but\nwhen I came nearer to him, I saw something hanging over his shoulders,\nwhich was a creature that he had shot, like a hare, but different in\ncolor, and longer legs. However, we were very glad of it, and it was\nvery good meat; but the great joy that poor Xury came with was to tell\nme he had found good water, and had seen no wild mans.\nBut we found afterwards that we need not take such pains for water, for\na little higher up the creek where we were we found the water fresh\nwhen the tide was out, which flowed but a little way up; so we filled\nour jars, and feasted on the hare we had killed, and prepared to go on\nour way, having seen no footsteps of any human creature in that part of\nthe country.\nAs I had been one voyage to this coast before, I knew very well that\nthe islands of the Canaries, and the Cape de Verde Islands also, lay\nnot far off from the coast. But as I had no instruments to take an\nobservation to know what latitude we were in, and did not exactly know,\nor at least remember, what latitude they were in, I knew not where to\nlook for them, or when to stand off to sea towards them; otherwise I\nmight now easily have found some of these islands. But my hope was,\nthat if I stood along this coast till I came to that part where the\nEnglish traded, I should find some of their vessels upon their usual\ndesign of trade, that would relieve and take us in.\nBy the best of my calculation, that place where I now was must be that\ncountry which, lying between the Emperor of Morocco\u2019s dominions and\nthe negroes, lies waste and uninhabited, except by wild beasts; the\nnegroes having abandoned it and gone farther south for fear of the\nMoors, and the Moors not thinking it worth inhabiting, by reason of\nits barrenness; and indeed both forsaking it because of the prodigious\nnumbers of tigers, lions, leopards, and other furious creatures which\nharbor there; so that the Moors use it for their hunting only, where\nthey go like an army, two or three thousand men at a time; and indeed\nfor near an hundred miles together upon this coast we saw nothing but\na waste uninhabited country by day, and heard nothing but howlings and\nroarings of wild beasts by night.\nOnce or twice in the daytime I thought I saw the Pico of Teneriffe,\nbeing the high top of the Mountain Teneriffe in the Canaries, and had\na great mind to venture out, in hopes of reaching thither; but having\ntried twice, I was forced in again by contrary winds, the sea also\ngoing too high for my little vessel; so I resolved to pursue my first\ndesign, and keep along the shore.\nSeveral times I was obliged to land for fresh water after we had left\nthis place; and once in particular, being early in the morning, we came\nto an anchor under a little point of land which was pretty high; and\nthe tide beginning to flow, we lay still to go farther in. Xury, whose\neyes were more about him than it seems mine were, called softly to me,\nand told me that we had best go farther off the shore; \u201cFor,\u201d said he,\n\u201clook, yonder lies a dreadful monster on the side of that hillock fast\nasleep.\u201d I looked where he pointed, and saw a dreadful monster indeed,\nfor it was a terrible great lion that lay on the side of the shore,\nunder the shade of a piece of the hill that hung as it were a little\nover him. \u201cXury,\u201d said I, \u201cyou shall go on shore and kill him.\u201d Xury\nlooked frightened, and said, \u201cMe kill! he eat me at one mouth\u201d; one\nmouthful he meant. However, I said no more to the boy, but bade him lie\nstill, and I took our biggest gun, which was almost musket-bore, and\nloaded it with a good charge of powder, and with two slugs, and laid it\ndown; then I loaded another gun with two bullets; and the third (for we\nhad three pieces) I loaded with five smaller bullets. I took the best\naim I could with the first piece to have shot him into the head, but he\nlay so with his leg raised a little above his nose, that the slugs hit\nhis leg about the knee, and broke the bone. He started up growling at\nfirst, but finding his leg broke, fell down again, and then got up upon\nthree legs and gave the most hideous roar that ever I heard. I was a\nlittle surprised that I had not hit him on the head. However, I took up\nthe second piece immediately, and, though he began to move off, fired\nagain, and shot him into the head, and had the pleasure to see him\ndrop, and make but little noise, but lay struggling for life. Then Xury\ntook heart, and would have me let him go on shore. \u201cWell, go,\u201d said I;\nso the boy jumped into the water, and taking a little gun in one hand,\nswam to shore with the other hand, and coming close to the creature,\nput the muzzle of the piece to his ear, and shot him into the head\nagain, which despatched him quite.\nThis was game indeed to us, but this was no food; and I was very sorry\nto lose three charges of powder and shot upon a creature that was good\nfor nothing to us. However, Xury said he would have some of him; so he\ncomes on board, and asked me to give him the hatchet. \u201cFor what, Xury?\u201d\nsaid I. \u201cMe cut off his head,\u201d said he. However, Xury could not cut off\nhis head, but he cut off a foot, and brought it with him, and it was a\nmonstrous great one.\nI bethought myself, however, that perhaps the skin of him might one way\nor other be of some value to us; and I resolved to take off his skin\nif I could. So Xury and I went to work with him; but Xury was much the\nbetter workman at it, for I knew very ill how to do it. Indeed, it took\nus up both the whole day, but at last we got off the hide of him, and\nspreading it on the top of our cabin, the sun effectually dried it in\ntwo days\u2019 time, and it afterwards served me to lie upon.\nAfter this stop we made on to the southward continually for ten or\ntwelve days, living very sparing on our provisions, which began\nto abate very much, and going no oftener into the shore than we\nwere obliged to for fresh water. My design in this was to make the\nriver Gambia or Senegal--that is to say, anywhere about the Cape de\nVerde--where I was in hopes to meet with some European ship; and if I\ndid not, I knew not what course I had to take, but to seek out for the\nislands or perish there among the negroes. I knew that all the ships\nfrom Europe, which sailed either to the coast of Guinea or to Brazil,\nor to the East Indies, made this cape, or those islands; and in a word,\nI put the whole of my fortune upon this single point, either that I\nmust meet with some ship, or must perish.\nWhen I had pursued this resolution about ten days longer, as I have\nsaid, I began to see that the land was inhabited; and in two or three\nplaces, as we sailed by, we saw people stand upon the shore to look\nat us; we could also perceive they were quite black, and stark naked.\nI was once inclined to have gone on shore to them; but Xury was my\nbetter councilor, and said to me, \u201cNo go, no go.\u201d However, I hauled in\nnearer the shore that I might talk to them, and I found they ran along\nthe shore by me a good way. I observed they had no weapons in their\nhands, except one, who had a long slender stick, which Xury said was a\nlance, and that they would throw them a great way with good aim. So I\nkept at a distance, but talked with them by signs as well as I could,\nand particularly made signs for something to eat; they beckoned to me\nto stop my boat, and that they would fetch me some meat. Upon this I\nlowered the top of my sail, and lay by, and two of them ran up into\nthe country, and in less than half-an-hour came back, and brought with\nthem two pieces of dried flesh and some corn, such as is the produce\nof their country; but we neither knew what the one or the other was.\nHowever, we were willing to accept it, but how to come at it was our\nnext dispute, for I was not for venturing on shore to them, and they\nwere as much afraid of us; but they took a safe way for us all, for\nthey brought it to the shore and laid it down, and went and stood a\ngreat way off till we fetched it on board, and then came close to us\nagain.\nWe made signs of thanks to them, for we had nothing to make them\namends. But an opportunity offered that very instant to oblige them\nwonderfully; for while we were lying by the shore came two mighty\ncreatures, one pursuing the other (as we took it) with great fury from\nthe mountains towards the sea; whether it was the male pursuing the\nfemale, or whether they were in sport or in rage, we could not tell,\nany more than we could tell whether it was usual or strange, but I\nbelieve it was the latter: because, in the first place, those ravenous\ncreatures seldom appear but in the night; and in the second place, we\nfound the people terribly frightened, especially the women.\nThe man that had the lance or dart did not fly from them but the rest\ndid; however, as the two creatures ran directly into the water, they\ndid not seem to offer to fall upon any of the negroes, but plunged\nthemselves into the sea, and swam about, as if they had come for their\ndiversion. At last, one of them began to come nearer our boat than at\nfirst I expected; but I lay ready for him, for I had loaded my gun with\nall possible expedition, and bade Xury load both the others. As soon as\nhe came fairly within my reach, I fired, and shot him directly into the\nhead; immediately he sunk down into the water, but rose instantly, and\nplunged up and down, as if he was struggling for life, and so indeed he\nwas. He immediately made to the shore; but between the wound, which was\nhis mortal hurt, and the strangling of the water, he died just before\nhe reached the shore.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment of these poor creatures,\nat the noise and the fire of my gun; some of them were even ready to\ndie for fear, and fell down as dead with the very terror. But when they\nsaw the creature dead, and sunk in the water, and that I made signs to\nthem to come to the shore, they took heart and came to the shore, and\nbegan to search for the creature. I found him by his blood staining the\nwater: and by the help of a rope, which I slung round him, and gave the\nnegroes to haul, they dragged him on the shore, and found that it was a\nmost curious leopard, spotted, and fine to an admirable degree; and the\nnegroes held up their hands with admiration, to think what I had killed\nhim with.\nThe other creature, frightened with the flash of fire and the noise\nof the gun, swam on shore, and ran up directly to the mountains from\nwhence they came; nor could I, at that distance, know what it was. I\nfound quickly the negroes were for eating the flesh of this creature,\nso I was willing to have them take it as a favor from me; which when I\nmade signs to them that they might take him, they were very thankful\nfor. Immediately they fell to work with him; and though they had no\nknife, yet, with a sharpened piece of wood, they took off his skin as\nreadily, and much more readily than we could have done with a knife.\nThey offered me some of the flesh, which I declined, making as if I\nwould give it them, but made signs for the skin, which they gave me\nvery freely, and brought me a great deal more of their provision,\nwhich though I did not understand, yet I accepted. Then I made signs\nto them for some water, and held out one of my jars to them, turning\nit bottom upward, to show that it was empty, and that I wanted to have\nit filled. They called immediately to some of their friends, and there\ncame two women, and brought a great vessel made of earth, and burnt, as\nI suppose, in the sun; this they set down for me, as before, and I sent\nXury on shore with my jars, and filled them all three. The women were\nas stark naked as the men.\nI was now furnished with roots and corn, such as it was, and water;\nand leaving my friendly negroes, I made forward for about eleven days\nmore, without offering to go near the shore, till I saw the land rim\nout a great length into the sea, at about the distance of four or five\nleagues before me; and the sea being very calm. I kept a large offing,\nto make this point. At length doubling the point, at about two leagues\nfrom the land, I saw plainly land on the other side, to seaward; then\nI concluded, as it was most certain indeed, that this was the Cape de\nVerde, and those the islands, called from thence Cape de Verde Islands.\nHowever, they were at a great distance, and I could not well tell what\nI had best to do; for if I should be taken with a fresh wind, I might\nneither reach one nor other.\nIn this dilemma, as I was very pensive, I stepped into the cabin, and\nsat me down, Xury having the helm; when, on a sudden, the boy cried\nout, \u201cMaster, master, a ship with a sail!\u201d and the foolish boy was\nfrightened out of his wits, thinking it must needs be some of his\nmaster\u2019s ships sent to pursue us, when I knew we were gotten far enough\nout of their reach. I jumped out of the cabin, and immediately saw not\nonly the ship, but what she was, viz., that it was a Portuguese ship,\nand, as I thought, was bound to the coast of Guinea, for negroes. But\nwhen I observed the course she steered, I was soon convinced they were\nbound some other way, and did not design to come any nearer to the\nshore; upon which I stretched out to sea as much as I could, resolving\nto speak with them, if possible.\nWith all the sail I could make, I found I should not be able to come\nin their way, but that they would be gone by before I could make any\nsignal to them; but after I had crowded to the utmost, and began to\ndespair, they, it seems, saw me by the help of their perspective\nglasses, and that it was some European boat, which, as they supposed,\nmust belong to some ship that was lost, so they shortened sail to let\nme come up.\nI was encouraged with this; and as I had my patron\u2019s flag on board, I\nmade a waft of it to them for a signal of distress, and fired a gun,\nboth of which they saw; for they told me they saw the smoke, though\nthey did not hear the gun. Upon these signals they very kindly brought\nto, and lay by for me; and in about three hours\u2019 time I came up with\nthem.\nThey asked me what I was, in Portuguese, and in Spanish, and in French,\nbut I understood none of them; but at last a Scots sailor, who was\non board, called to me, and I answered him, and told him I was an\nEnglishman, that I had made my escape out of slavery from the Moors, at\nSallee. Then they bade me come on board, and very kindly took me in,\nand all my goods.\nIt was an inexpressible joy to me, that any one will believe, that I\nwas thus delivered, as I esteemed it, from such a miserable, and almost\nhopeless, condition as I was in; and I immediately offered all I had\nto the captain of the ship, as a return for my deliverance. But he\ngenerously told me he would take nothing from me, but that all I had\nshould be delivered safe to me when I came to the Brazils. \u201cFor,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cI have saved your life on no other terms than I would be glad to\nbe saved myself; and it may, one time or other, be my lot to be taken\nup in the same condition. Besides,\u201d says he, \u201cwhen I carry you to the\nBrazils, so great a way from your own country, if I should take from\nyou what you have, you will be starved there, and then I only take\naway that life I have given. No, no, Seignior Inglese,\u201d says he, \u201cMr.\nEnglishman, I will carry you thither in charity, and those things will\nhelp you to buy your subsistence there, and your passage home again.\u201d\nCHAPTER IV\n_He Settles in the Brazils as a Planter--Makes another Voyage and is\nShipwrecked_\nAs he was charitable in his proposal, so he was just in the performance\nto a tittle; for he ordered the seamen that none should offer to touch\nanything I had; then he took everything into his own possession, and\ngave me back an exact inventory of them, that I might have them, even\nso much as my three earthen jars.\nAs to my boat, it was a very good one, and that he saw, and told me he\nwould buy it of me for the ship\u2019s use, and asked me what I would have\nfor it? I told him he had been so generous to me in everything, that I\ncould not offer to make any price for the boat, but left it entirely to\nhim; upon which he told me he would give me a note of his hand to pay\nme eighty pieces of eight for it at Brazil, and when it came there, if\nany one offered to give more, he would make it up. He offered me also\nsixty pieces of eight more for my boy, Xury, which I was loth to take;\nnot that I was not willing to let the captain have him, but I was very\nloth to sell the poor boy\u2019s liberty, who had assisted me so faithfully\nin procuring my own. However, when I let him know my reason, he owned\nit to be just, and offered me this medium, that he would give the boy\nan obligation to set him free in ten years if he turned Christian.\nUpon this, and Xury saying he was willing to go to him, I let the\ncaptain have him.\nWe had a very good voyage to the Brazils, and arrived in the Bay\nde Todos los Santos, or All Saints\u2019 Bay, in about twenty-two days\nafter. And now I was once more delivered from the most miserable of\nall conditions of life; and what to do next with myself I was now to\nconsider.\nThe generous treatment the captain gave me, I can never enough\nremember. He would take nothing of me for my passage, gave me twenty\nducats for the leopard\u2019s skin, and forty for the lion\u2019s skin, which\nI had in my boat, and caused everything I had in the ship to be\npunctually delivered me; and what I was willing to sell he bought, such\nas the case of bottles, two of my guns, and a piece of the lump of\nbeeswax--for I had made candles of the rest; in a word, I made about\n220 pieces of eight of all my cargo, and with this stock I went on\nshore in the Brazils.\nI had not been long here, but being recommended to the house of a good\nhonest man like himself, who had an _ingeino_ as they call it, that\nis, a plantation and a sugar-house, I lived with him some time, and\nacquainted myself by that means with the manner of their planting and\nmaking of sugar; and seeing how well the planters lived, and how they\ngrew rich suddenly, I resolved, if I could get a license to settle\nthere, I would turn planter among them, resolving in the meantime to\nfind out some way to get my money which I left in London remitted to\nme. To this purpose, getting a kind of a letter of naturalization, I\npurchased as much land that was uncured as my money would reach, and\nformed a plan for my plantation and settlement, and such a one as might\nbe suitable to the stock which I proposed to myself to receive from\nEngland.\nI had a neighbor, a Portuguese of Lisbon, but born of English parents,\nwhose name was Wells, and in much such circumstances as I was. I call\nhim my neighbor, because his plantation lay next to mine, and we went\non very sociably together. My stock was but low, as well as his; and\nwe rather planted for food than anything else, for about two years.\nHowever, we began to increase, and our land began to come into order;\nso that the third year we planted some tobacco, and made each of us a\nlarge piece of ground ready for planting canes in the year to come. But\nwe both wanted help; and now I found more than before, I had done wrong\nin parting with my boy Xury.\nBut alas! for me to do wrong that never did right was no great wonder.\nI had no remedy but to go on. I was gotten into an employment quite\nremote to my genius, and directly contrary to the life I delighted in,\nand for which I forsook my father\u2019s house, and broke through all his\ngood advice; nay, I was coming into the very middle station, or upper\ndegree of low life, which my father advised me to before; and which,\nif I resolved to go on with, I might as well have stayed at home, and\nnever have fatigued myself in the world as I had done. And I used often\nto say to myself, I could have done this as well in England among my\nfriends, as have gone 5,000 miles off to do it among strangers and\nsavages, in a wilderness, and at such a distance as never to hear from\nany part of the world that had the least knowledge of me.\nIn this manner I used to look upon my condition with the utmost regret.\nI had nobody to converse with, but now and then this neighbor; no work\nto be done, but by the labor of my hands; and I used to say, I lived\njust like a man cast away upon some desolate island, that had nobody\nthere but himself. But how just has it been! and how should all men\nreflect, that when they compare their present conditions with others\nthat are worse, Heaven may oblige them to make the exchange, and be\nconvinced of their former felicity by their experience;--I say, how\njust has it been, that the truly solitary life I reflected on in an\nisland of mere desolation should be my lot, who had so often unjustly\ncompared it with the life which I then led, in which, had I continued,\nI had in all probability been exceeding prosperous and rich.\nI was in some degree settled in my measures for carrying on the\nplantation before my kind friend, the captain of the ship that took\nme up at sea, went back; for the ship remained there in providing his\nloading, and preparing for his voyage, near three months; when, telling\nhim what little stock I had left behind me in London, he gave me this\nfriendly and sincere advice: \u201cSeignior Inglese,\u201d says he, for so he\nalways called me, \u201cif you will give me letters, and a procuration here\nin form to me, with orders to the person who has your money in London\nto send your effects to Lisbon, to such persons as I shall direct, and\nin such goods as are proper for this country, I will bring you the\nproduce of them, God willing, at my return. But since human affairs\nare all subject to changes and disaster, I would have you give orders\nbut for one hundred pounds sterling, which, you say, is half your\nstock, and let the hazard be run for the first; so that if it come\nsafe, you may order the rest the same way; and if it miscarry, you may\nhave the other half to have recourse to for your supply.\u201d\nThis was so wholesome advice, and looked so friendly, that I could not\nbut be convinced it was the best course I could take; so I accordingly\nprepared letters to the gentlewoman with whom I had left my money, and\na procuration to the Portuguese captain, as he desired.\nI wrote the English captain\u2019s widow a full account of all my\nadventures; my slavery, escape, and how I had met with the Portuguese\ncaptain at sea, the humanity of his behavior, and in what condition\nI was now in, with all other necessary directions for my supply. And\nwhen this honest captain came to Lisbon, he found means, by some of\nthe English merchants there, to send over not the order only, but a\nfull account of my story to a merchant at London, who represented it\neffectually to her; whereupon, she not only delivered the money, but\nout of her own pocket sent the Portuguese captain a very handsome\npresent for his humanity and charity to me.\nThe merchant in London vesting this hundred pounds in English goods,\nsuch as the captain had written for, sent them directly to him at\nLisbon, and he brought them all safe to me to the Brazils; among which,\nwithout my direction (for I was too young in my business to think of\nthem), he had taken care to have all sorts of tools, iron-work, and\nutensils necessary for my plantation, and which were of great use to\nme.\nWhen this cargo arrived, I thought my fortune made, for I was surprised\nwith joy of it; and my good steward, the captain, had laid out the five\npounds, which my friend had sent him for a present for himself, to\npurchase and bring me over a servant under bond for six years\u2019 service,\nand would not accept of any consideration, except a little tobacco,\nwhich I would have him accept, being of my own produce.\nNeither was this all; but my goods being all English manufactures, such\nas cloth, stuffs, baize, and things particularly valuable and desirable\nin the country, I found means to sell them to a very great advantage;\nso that I may say I had more than four times the value of my first\ncargo, and was now infinitely beyond my poor neighbor, I mean in the\nadvancement of my plantation; for the first thing I did, I bought me a\nnegro slave, and an European servant also; I mean another besides that\nwhich the captain brought me from Lisbon.\nBut as abused prosperity is oftentimes made the very means of our\ngreatest adversity, so was it with me. I went on the next year with\ngreat success in my plantation. I raised fifty great rolls of tobacco\non my own ground, more than I had disposed of for necessaries among my\nneighbors; and these fifty rolls, being each of above a hundredweight,\nwere well cured, and laid by against the return of the fleet from\nLisbon. And now, increasing in business and in wealth, my head began\nto be full of projects and undertakings beyond my reach, such as are,\nindeed, often the ruin of the best heads in business. Had I continued\nin the station I was now in, I had room for all the happy things to\nhave yet befallen me for which my father so earnestly recommended a\nquiet, retired life, and of which he had so sensibly described the\nmiddle station of life to be full of. But other things attended me,\nand I was still to be the wilful agent of all my own miseries; and\nparticularly, to increase my fault and double the reflections upon\nmyself, which in my future sorrows I should have leisure to make. All\nthese miscarriages were procured by my apparent obstinate adhering\nto my foolish inclination of wandering abroad, and pursuing that\ninclination in contradiction to the clearest views of doing myself good\nin a fair and plain pursuit of those prospects, and those measures of\nlife, which Nature and Providence concurred to present me with, and to\nmake my duty.\nAs I had once done thus in my breaking away from my parents, so I could\nnot be content now, but I must go and leave the happy view I had of\nbeing a rich and thriving man in my new plantation, only to pursue a\nrash and immoderate desire of rising faster than the nature of the\nthing admitted; and thus I cast myself down again into the deepest gulf\nof human misery that ever man fell into, or perhaps could be consistent\nwith life and a state of health in the world.\nTo come then, by the just degrees to the particulars of this part of\nmy story. You may suppose, that having now lived almost four years in\nthe Brazils, and beginning to thrive and prosper very well upon my\nplantation, I had not only learned the language, but had contracted\nacquaintance and friendship among my fellow-planters, as well as among\nthe merchants at St. Salvador, which was our port, and that in my\ndiscourses among them I had frequently given them an account of my two\nvoyages to the coast of Guinea, the manner of trading with the negroes\nthere, and how easy it was to purchase upon the coast for trifles--such\nas beads, toys, knives, scissors, hatchets, bits of glass, and the\nlike--not only gold dust, Guinea grains, elephants\u2019 teeth, etc., but\nnegroes, for the service of the Brazils, in great numbers.\nThey listened always very attentively to my discourses on these heads,\nbut especially to that part which related to the buying negroes; which\nwas a trade, at that time, not only not far entered into, but, as far\nas it was, had been carried on by the _assiento_, or permission, of the\nKings of Spain and Portugal, and engrossed in the public, so that few\nnegroes were bought, and those excessive dear.\nIt happened, being in company with some merchants and planters of my\nacquaintance, and talking of those things very earnestly, three of them\ncame to me the next morning, and told me they had been musing very much\nupon what I had discoursed with them of, the last night, and they came\nto make a secret proposal to me. And after enjoining me secrecy, they\ntold me that they had a mind to fit out a ship to go to Guinea; that\nthey had all plantations as well as I, and were straitened for nothing\nso much as servants; that as it was a trade that could not be carried\non because they could not publicly sell the negroes when they came\nhome, so they desired to make but one voyage, to bring the negroes on\nshore privately, and divide them among their own plantations; and, in a\nword, the question was, whether I would go as their supercargo in the\nship, to manage the trading part upon the coast of Guinea; and they\noffered me that I should have my equal share of the negroes without\nproviding any part of the stock.\nThis was a fair proposal, it must be confessed, had it been made to\nany one that had not had a settlement and plantation of his own to\nlook after, which was in a fair way of coming to be very considerable,\nand with a good stock upon it. But for me, that was thus entered and\nestablished, and had nothing to do but go on as I had begun, for three\nor four years more, and to have sent for the other hundred pounds\nfrom England; and who, in that time, and with that little addition,\ncould scarce have failed of being worth three or four thousand pounds\nsterling, and that increasing too--for me to think of such a voyage,\nwas the most preposterous thing that ever man, in such circumstances,\ncould be guilty of.\nBut I, that was born to be my own destroyer, could no more resist the\noffer than I could restrain my first rambling designs, when my father\u2019s\ngood counsel was lost upon me. In a word, I told them I would go with\nall my heart, if they would undertake to look after my plantation in\nmy absence, and would dispose of it to such as I should direct if I\nmiscarried. This they all engaged to do, and entered into writings or\ncovenants to do so; I made a formal will, disposing of my plantation\nand effects, in case of my death; making the captain of the ship that\nhad saved my life, as before, my universal heir, but obliging him to\ndispose of my effects as I had directed in my will; one-half of the\nproduce being to himself, and the other to be shipped to England.\nIn short, I took all possible caution to preserve my effects, and keep\nup my plantation. Had I used half as much prudence to have looked\ninto my own interest, and have made a judgment of what I ought to\nhave done and not to have done, I had certainly never gone away from\nso prosperous an undertaking, leaving all the probable views of a\nthriving circumstance, and gone upon a voyage to sea, attended with\nall its common hazards, to say nothing of the reasons I had to expect\nparticular misfortunes to myself.\nBut I was hurried on, and obeyed blindly the dictates of my fancy\nrather than my reason. And accordingly, the ship being fitted out, and\nthe cargo furnished, and all things done as by agreement by my partners\nin the voyage, I went on board in an evil hour, the first of September,\n1659, being the same day eight years that I went from my father and\nmother at Hull, in order to act the rebel to their authority, and the\nfool to my own interest.\nOur ship was about 120 tons burden, carried six guns and fourteen men,\nbesides the master, his boy, and myself. We had on board no large\ncargo of goods, except of such toys as were fit for our trade with\nthe negroes--such as beads, bits of glass, shells, and odd trifles,\nespecially little looking-glasses, knives, scissors, hatchets, and the\nlike.\nThe same day I went on board we set sail, standing away to the\nnorthward upon our own coast, with design to stretch over for the\nAfrican coast, when they came about 10 or 12 degrees of northern\nlatitude, which, it seems, was the manner of their course in those\ndays. We had very good weather, only excessive hot, all the way upon\nour own coast, till we came to the height of Cape St. Augustino, from\nwhence, keeping farther off at sea, we lost sight of land, and steered\nas if we were bound for the Isle Fernando de Noronha, holding our\ncourse N.E. by N., and leaving those isles on the east. In this course\nwe passed the line in about twelve days\u2019 time, and were, by our last\nobservation, in 7 degrees 22 minutes northern latitude, when a violent\ntornado, or hurricane, took us quite out of our knowledge. It began\nfrom the south-east, came about to the north-west, and then settled\ninto the north-east, from whence it blew in such a terrible manner,\nthat for twelve days together we could do nothing but drive, and,\nscudding away before it, let it carry us wherever fate and the fury of\nthe winds directed; and during these twelve days, I need not say that I\nexpected every day to be swallowed up, nor, indeed, did any in the ship\nexpect to save their lives.\nIn this distress we had, besides the terror of the storm, one of\nour men die of the fever, and one man and the boy washed overboard.\nAbout the twelfth day, the weather abating a little, the master made\nan observation as well as he could, and found that he was in about\n11 degrees north latitude, but that he was 22 degrees of longitude\ndifference west from Cape St. Augustino; so that he found he was gotten\nupon the coast of Guiana, or the north part of Brazil, beyond the river\nAmazon, toward that of the river Orinoco, commonly called the Great\nRiver, and began to consult with me what course he should take, for the\nship was leaky and very much disabled, and he was going directly back\nto the coast of Brazil.\nI was positively against that; and looking over the charts of the\nsea-coast of America with him, we concluded there was no inhabited\ncountry for us to have recourse to till we came within the circle\nof the Caribbee Islands, and therefore resolved to stand away for\nBarbadoes, which by keeping off at sea, to avoid the indraft of the\nBay or Gulf of Mexico, we might easily perform, as we hoped, in about\nfifteen days\u2019 sail; whereas we could not possibly make our voyage to\nthe coast of Africa without some assistance, both to our ship and to\nourselves.\nWith this design we changed our course, and steered away N.W. by W. in\norder to reach some of our English islands, where I hoped for relief;\nbut our voyage was otherwise determined; for being in the latitude of\n12 degrees 18 minutes, a second storm came upon us, which carried us\naway with the same impetuosity westward, and drove us so out of the\nvery way of all human commerce, that had all our lives been saved, as\nto the sea, we were rather in danger of being devoured by savages than\never returning to our own country.\nIn this distress, the wind still blowing very hard, one of our men\nearly in the morning cried out, \u201cLand!\u201d and we had no sooner ran\nout of our cabin to look out, in hopes of seeing whereabouts in the\nworld we were, but the ship struck upon a sand, and in a moment, her\nmotion being so stopped, the sea broke over her in such a manner,\nthat we expected we should all have perished immediately; and we were\nimmediately driven into our close quarters, to shelter us from the very\nfoam and spray of the sea.\nIt is not easy for any one, who has not been in the like condition, to\ndescribe or conceive the consternation of men in such circumstances. We\nknew nothing where we were, or upon what land it was we were driven,\nwhether an island or the main, whether inhabited or not inhabited;\nand as the rage of the wind was still great, though rather less than\nat first, we could not so much as hope to have the ship hold many\nminutes without breaking in pieces, unless the winds, by a kind of\nmiracle, should turn immediately about. In a word, we sat looking one\nupon another, and expecting death every moment, and every man acting\naccordingly, as preparing for another world; for there was little or\nnothing more for us to do in this. That which was our present comfort,\nand all the comfort we had, was that, contrary to our expectation, the\nship did not break yet, and that the master said the wind began to\nabate.\nNow, though we thought that the wind did a little abate, yet the ship\nhaving thus struck upon the sand, and sticking too fast for us to\nexpect her getting off, we were in a dreadful condition indeed, and had\nnothing to do but to think of saving our lives as well as we could. We\nhad a boat at our stern just before the storm, but she was first staved\nby dashing against the ship\u2019s rudder, and in the next place, she broke\naway, and either sunk, or was driven off to sea, so there was no hope\nfrom her; we had another boat on board, but how to get her off into the\nsea was a doubtful thing. However, there was no room to debate, for we\nfancied the ship would break in pieces every minute, and some told us\nshe was actually broken already.\nIn this distress, the mate of our vessel lays hold of the boat, and\nwith the help of the rest of the men they got her slung over the ship\u2019s\nside; and getting all into her, let go, and committed ourselves, being\neleven in number, to God\u2019s mercy, and the wild sea; for though the\nstorm was abated considerably, yet the sea went dreadful high upon the\nshore, and might well be called _den wild zee_, as the Dutch call the\nsea in a storm.\nAnd now our case was very dismal indeed, for we all saw plainly that\nthe sea went so high, that the boat could not live, and that we should\nbe inevitably drowned. As to making sail, we had none; nor, if we had,\ncould we have done anything with it; so we worked at the oar toward the\nland, though with heavy hearts, like men going to execution, for we\nall knew that when the boat came nearer the shore, she would be dashed\nin a thousand pieces by the breach of the sea. However, we committed\nour souls to God in the most earnest manner; and the wind driving us\ntowards the shore, we hastened our destruction with our own hands,\npulling as well as we could towards land.\nWhat the shore was, whether rock or sand, whether steep or shoal, we\nknew not; the only hope that could rationally give us the least shadow\nof expectation was, if we may happen into some Bay or Gulf, or the\nmouth of some river, where by great chance we might have run our boat\nin, or got under the lee of the land, and perhaps made smooth water.\nBut there was nothing of this appeared; but as we made nearer and\nnearer the shore, the land looked more frightful than the sea.\nAfter we had rowed, or rather driven, about a league and a half, as we\nreckoned it, a raging wave, mountain-like, came rolling astern of us,\nand plainly bade us expect the _coup de gr\u00e2ce_. In a word, it took us\nwith such a fury that it overset the boat at once; and separating us,\nas well from the boat as from one another, gave us not time hardly to\nsay, \u201cO God!\u201d for we were all swallowed up in a moment.\nNothing can describe the confusion of thought which I felt when I sunk\ninto the water; for though I swam very well, yet I could not deliver\nmyself from the waves so as to draw breath, till that wave having\ndriven me, or rather carried me, a vast way on towards the shore, and\nhaving spent itself, went back, and left me upon the land almost dry,\nbut half dead with the water I took in. I had so much presence of mind\nas well as breath left, that seeing myself nearer the mainland than I\nexpected, I got upon my feet, and endeavored to make on towards the\nland as fast as I could, before another wave should return and take me\nup again. But I soon found it was impossible to avoid it; for I saw the\nsea come after me as high as a great hill, and as furious as an enemy,\nwhich I had no means or strength to contend with. My business was to\nhold my breath, and raise myself upon the water, if I could; and so, by\nswimming, to preserve my breathing, and pilot myself towards the shore,\nif possible; my greatest concern now being, that the sea, as it would\ncarry me a great way towards the shore when it came on, might not carry\nme back again with it when it gave back towards the sea.\nThe wave that came upon me again, buried me at once 20 or 30 feet\ndeep in its own body, and I could feel myself carried with a mighty\nforce and swiftness towards the shore a very great way; but I held my\nbreath, and assisted myself to swim still forward with all my might.\nI was ready to burst with holding my breath, when, as I felt myself\nrising up, so, to my immediate relief, I found my head and hands shoot\nout above the surface of the water; and though it was not two seconds\nof time that I could keep myself so, yet it relieved me greatly, gave\nme breath and new courage. I was covered again with water a good while,\nbut not so long but I held it out; and finding the water had spent\nitself, and began to return, I struck forward against the return of\nthe waves, and felt the ground again with my feet. I stood still a few\nmoments to recover breath, and till the water went from me, and then\ntook to my heels and ran with what strength I had farther towards the\nshore. But neither would this deliver me from the fury of the sea,\nwhich came pouring in after me again, and twice more I was lifted up by\nthe waves and carried forwards as before, the shore being very flat.\nThe last time of these two had well near been fatal to me; for the\nsea, having hurried me along as before, landed me, or rather dashed\nme, against a piece of a rock and that with such force as it left me\nsenseless, and indeed helpless, as to my own deliverance; for the blow\ntaking my side and breast beat the breath as it were quite out of my\nbody; and had it returned again immediately, I must have been strangled\nin the water. But I recovered a little before the return of the waves,\nand seeing I should be covered again with the water, I resolved to hold\nfast by a piece of the rock, and so to hold my breath, if possible,\ntill the wave went back. Now as the waves were not so high as at\nfirst, being near land, I held my hold till the wave abated and then\nfetched another run, which brought me so near the shore, that the next\nwave though it went over me yet did not swallow me up as to carry me\naway, and the next run I took I got to the mainland, where to my great\ncomfort I clambered up the cliffs of the shore, and sat me down upon\nthe grass, free from danger and quite out of the reach of the water.\nI was now landed, and safe on shore, and began to look up and thank God\nthat my life was saved in a case wherein there was some minutes before\nscarce any room to hope. I believe it is impossible to express to the\nlife what the ecstasies and transports of the soul are when it is so\nsaved, as I may say, out of the very grave; and I do not wonder now\nat that custom, viz., that when a malefactor who has the halter about\nhis neck is tied up and just going to be turned off and has a reprieve\nbrought to him--I say, I do not wonder that they bring a surgeon with\nit, to let his blood that every moment they tell him of it, that the\nsurprise may not drive the animal spirits from his heart, and overwhelm\nhim:\n            For sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first.\nI walked about on the shore, lifting up my hands, and my whole being,\nas I may say, wrapt up in the contemplation of my deliverance, making a\nthousand gestures and motions which I cannot describe, reflecting upon\nall my comrades that were drowned, and that there should not be one\nsoul saved but myself; for, as for them, I never saw them afterwards,\nor any sign of them except three of their hats, one cap, and two shoes\nthat were not fellows.\nI cast my eyes to the stranded vessel when the breach and froth of\nthe sea being so big, I could hardly see it, it lay so far off, and\nconsidered, Lord! how was it possible I could get on shore?\nAfter I had solaced my mind with the comfortable part of my condition\nI began to look round me to see what kind of place I was in, and what\nwas next to be done, and I soon found my comforts abate, and that in\na word I had a dreadful deliverance; for I was wet, had no clothes to\nshift me, nor anything to eat or drink to comfort me, neither did I\nsee any prospect before me but that of perishing with hunger, or being\ndevoured by wild beasts; and that which was particularly afflicting\nto me was that I had no weapon either to hunt and kill any creature\nfor my sustenance, or to defend myself against any other creature that\nmight desire to kill me for theirs. In a word, I had nothing about me\nbut a knife, a tobacco-pipe, and a little tobacco in a box. This was\nall my provision; and this threw me into terrible agonies of mind that\nfor a while I ran about like a madman. Night coming upon me, I began,\nwith a heavy heart, to consider what would be my lot if there were\nany ravenous beasts in that country, seeing at night they always come\nabroad for their prey.\nAll the remedy that offered to my thoughts at that time was, to get up\ninto a thick bushy tree like a fir, but thorny, which grew near me, and\nwhere I resolved to sit all night, and consider the next day what death\nI should die, for as yet I saw no prospect of life. I walked about\na furlong from the shore, to see if I could find any fresh water to\ndrink, which I did, to my great joy; and having drank, and put a little\ntobacco in my mouth to prevent hunger, I went to the tree, and getting\nup into it, endeavored to place myself so, as that if I should sleep I\nmight not fall; and having cut me a short stick, like a truncheon, for\nmy defence, I took up my lodging, and having been excessively fatigued,\nI fell fast asleep, and slept as comfortably as, I believe, few could\nhave done in my condition, and found myself the most refreshed with it\nthat I think I ever was on such an occasion.\nCHAPTER V\n_Robinson Finds Himself on a Desolate Island and Procures a Stock of\nArticles from the Wreck--He Constructs His Habitation_\nWhen I waked it was broad day, the weather clear, and the storm abated,\nso that the sea did not rage and swell as before. But that which\nsurprised me most was, that the ship was lifted off in the night from\nthe sand where she lay, by the swelling of the tide, and was driven up\nalmost as far as the rock which I first mentioned, where I had been\nso bruised by the dashing me against it. This being within about a\nmile from the shore where I was, and the ship seeming to stand upright\nstill, I wished myself on board, that, at least, I might have some\nnecessary things for my use.\nWhen I came down from my apartment in the tree I looked about me again\nand the first thing I found was the boat, which lay as the wind and the\nsea had tossed her up upon the land, about two miles on my right hand.\nI walked as far as I could upon the shore to have got to her, but found\na neck or inlet of water between me and the boat, which was about half\na mile broad; so I came back for the present, being more intent upon\ngetting at the ship, where I hoped to find something for my present\nsubsistence.\nA little after noon I found the sea very calm, and the tide ebbed so\nfar out, that I could come within a quarter of a mile of the ship; and\nhere I found a fresh renewing of my grief, for I saw evidently, that\nif we had kept on board we had been all safe, that is to say, we had\nall got safe on shore, and I had not been so miserable as to be left\nentirely destitute of all comfort and company as I now was. This forced\ntears from my eyes again; but as there was little relief in that, I\nresolved, if possible, to get to the ship; so I pulled off my clothes,\nfor the weather was hot to extremity, and took the water. But when I\ncame to the ship my difficulty was still greater to know how to get on\nboard; for as she lay aground, and high out of the water, there was\nnothing within my reach to lay hold of. I swam round her twice, and the\nsecond time I spied a small piece of a rope, which I wondered I did not\nsee at first, hang down by the fore-chains so low, as that with great\ndifficulty I got hold of it, and by the help of that rope got up into\nthe forecastle of the ship. Here I found that the ship was bulged, and\nhad a great deal of water in her hold, but that she lay so on the side\nof a bank of hard sand, or rather earth, that her stern lay lifted up\nupon the bank, and her head low almost to the water. By this means all\nher quarter was free, and all that was in that part was dry; for you\nmay be sure my first work was to search and to see what was spoiled and\nwhat was free. And first I found that all the ship\u2019s provisions were\ndry and untouched by the water; and being very well disposed to eat, I\nwent to the bread-room and filled my pockets with biscuit, and ate it\nas I went about other things, for I had no time to lose. I also found\nsome rum in the great cabin, of which I took a large dram, and which I\nhad indeed need enough of, to spirit me for what was before me. Now I\nwanted nothing but a boat, to furnish myself with many things which I\nforesaw would be very necessary to me.\nIt was in vain to sit still and wish for what was not to be had, and\nthis extremity roused my application. We had several spare yards, and\ntwo or three large spars of wood, and a spare top-mast or two in the\nship. I resolved to fall to work with these, and flung as many of them\noverboard as I could manage for their weight, tying every one with a\nrope, that they might not drive away. When this was done I went down\nthe ship\u2019s side, and pulling them to me, I tied four of them fast\ntogether at both ends as well as I could, in the form of a raft; and\nlaying two or three shore pieces of plank upon them crossways, I found\nI could walk upon it very well, but that it was not able to bear any\ngreat weight, the pieces being too light. So I went to work, and with\nthe carpenter\u2019s saw I cut a spare top-mast into three lengths, and\nadded them to my raft, with a great deal of labor and pains; but hope\nof furnishing myself with the necessaries encouraged me to go beyond\nwhat I should have been able to have done upon another occasion.\nMy raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable weight. My next\ncare was what to load it with, and how to preserve what I laid upon it\nfrom the surf of the sea; but I was not long considering this. I first\nlaid all the planks or boards upon it that I could get, and having\nconsidered well what I most wanted, I first got three of the seamen\u2019s\nchests which I had broken open and emptied, and lowered them down upon\nmy raft. The first of these I filled with provisions, viz., bread,\nrice, three Dutch cheeses, five pieces of dried goat\u2019s flesh, which\nwe lived much upon, and a little remainder of European corn which had\nbeen laid by for some fowls which we brought to sea with us, but the\nfowls were killed. There had been some barley and wheat together, but,\nto my great disappointment, I found afterwards that the rats had eaten\nor spoiled it all. As for liquors I found several cases of bottles\nbelonging to our skipper in which were some cordial waters, and, in\nall, about five or six gallons of rack. These I stowed by themselves,\nthere being no need to put them into the chest, nor no room for them.\nWhile I was doing this, I found the tide began to flow, though very\ncalm, and I had the mortification to see my coat, shirt, and waistcoat,\nwhich I had left on shore upon the sand, swim away; as for my breeches,\nwhich were only linen, and open-kneed, I swam on board in them and my\nstockings. However, this put me upon rummaging for clothes, of which\nI found enough, but took no more than I wanted for present use; for I\nhad other things which my eye was more upon, as first tools to work\nwith on shore; and it was after long searching that I found out the\ncarpenter\u2019s desk, which was indeed a very useful prize to me, and much\nmore valuable than a ship-loading of gold would have been at that time.\nI got it down to my raft, even whole as it was, without losing time to\nlook into it, for I knew in general what it contained.\nMy next care was for some ammunition and arms; there were two very good\nfowling-pieces in the great cabin, and two pistols; these I secured\nfirst, with some powder-horns, and a small bag of shot, and two old\nrusty swords. I knew there were three barrels of powder in the ship,\nbut knew not where our gunner had stowed them; but with much search I\nfound them, two of them dry and good, the third had taken water; those\ntwo I got to my raft with the arms. And now I thought myself pretty\nwell freighted, and began to think how I should get to shore with them,\nhaving neither sail, oar, nor rudder; and the least capful of wind\nwould have overset all my navigation.\nI had three encouragements. 1. A smooth, calm sea. 2. The tide rising\nand setting in to the shore. 3. What little wind there was blew me\ntowards the land. And thus, having found two or three broken oars\nbelonging to the boat, and besides the tools which were in the chest, I\nfound two saws, an axe, and a hammer, and with this cargo I put to sea.\nFor a mile or thereabouts my raft went very well, only that I found\nit drive a little distant from the place where I had landed before,\nby which I perceived that there was some indraft of the water, and\nconsequently I hoped to find some creek or river there, which I might\nmake use of as a port to get to land with my cargo.\nAs I imagined, so it was; there appeared before me a little opening of\nthe land, and I found a strong current of the tide set into it, so I\nguided my raft as well as I could to keep in the middle of the stream.\nBut here I had like to have suffered a second shipwreck, which, if I\nhad, I think verily would have broke my heart; for knowing nothing of\nthe coast my raft ran aground at one end of it upon a shoal, and not\nbeing aground at the other end, it wanted but a little that all my\ncargo had slipped off towards that end that was afloat, and so fallen\ninto the water. I did my utmost by setting my back against the chests\nto keep them in their places, but could not thrust off the raft with\nall my strength, neither durst I stir from the posture I was in, but\nholding up the chests with all my might, stood in that manner near half\nan hour, in which time the rising of the water brought me a little\nmore upon a level; and a little after, the water still rising, my\nraft floated again, and I thrust her off with the oar I had into the\nchannel, and then driving up higher, I at length found myself in the\nmouth of a little river, with land on both sides, and a strong current\nor tide running up. I looked on both sides for a proper place to get to\nshore, for I was not willing to be driven too high up the river, hoping\nin time to see some ship at sea, and therefore resolved to place myself\nas near the coast as I could.\nAt length I spied a little cove on the right shore of the creek, to\nwhich, with great pain and difficulty, I guided my raft, and at last\ngot so near, as that, reaching ground with my oar, I could thrust her\ndirectly in; but here I had like to have dipped all my cargo in the\nsea again; for that shore lying pretty steep, that is to say, sloping,\nthere was no place to land but where one end of my float, if it run on\nshore, would lie so high and the other sink lower, as before, that it\nwould endanger my cargo again. All that I could do was to wait till the\ntide was at the highest, keeping the raft with my oar like an anchor\nto hold the side of it fast to the shore, near a flat piece of ground,\nwhich I expected the water would flow over; and so it did. As soon as I\nfound water enough, for my raft drew about a foot of water, I thrust\nher on upon that flat piece of ground, and there fastened or moored her\nby sticking my two broken oars into the ground; one on one side near\none end, and one on the other side near the other end; and thus I lay\ntill the water ebbed away, and left my raft and all my cargo safe on\nshore.\nMy next work was to view the country and seek a proper place for my\nhabitation, and where to stow my goods to secure them from whatever\nmight happen. Where I was, I yet knew not; whether on the continent, or\non an island; whether inhabited, or not inhabited; whether in danger\nof wild beasts, or not. There was a hill, not above a mile from me,\nwhich rose up very steep and high, and which seemed to overtop some\nother hills, which lay as in a ridge from it, northward. I took out one\nof the fowling-pieces and one of the pistols, and a horn of powder;\nand thus armed, I travelled for discovery up to the top of that hill,\nwhere, after I had with great labor and difficulty got to the top,\nI saw my fate to my great affliction, viz., that I was on an island\nenvironed every way with the sea, no land to be seen, except some rocks\nwhich lay a great way off, and two small islands less than this, which\nlay about three leagues to the west.\nI found also that the island I was on was barren, and, as I saw good\nreason to believe, uninhabited, except by wild beasts, of whom,\nhowever, I saw none; yet I saw abundance of fowls, but knew not their\nkinds; neither, when I killed them, could I tell what was fit for food,\nand what not. At my coming back, I shot at a great bird which I saw\nsitting upon a tree on the side of a great wood. I believe it was the\nfirst gun that had been fired there since the creation of the world. I\nhad no sooner fired, but from all the parts of the wood there arose an\ninnumerable number of fowls of many sorts, making a confused screaming,\nand crying every one according to his usual note; but not one of them\nof any kind that I knew. As for the creature I killed, I took it to be\na kind of a hawk, its color and beak resembling it, but had no talons\nor claws more than common; its flesh was carrion, and fit for nothing.\nContented with this discovery, I came back to my raft, and fell to work\nto bring my cargo on shore, which took me the rest of that day; and\nwhat to do with myself at night, I knew not, nor indeed where to rest;\nfor I was afraid to lie down on the ground, not knowing but some wild\nbeast might devour me, though, as I afterwards found, there was really\nno need for those fears. However, as well as I could, I barricaded\nmyself round with the chests and boards that I had brought on shore,\nand made a kind of a hut for that night\u2019s lodging; as for food, I yet\nsaw not which way to supply myself, except that I had seen two or three\ncreatures like hares run out of the woods where I shot the fowl.\nI now began to consider, that I might yet get a great many things out\nof the ship, which would be useful to me, and particularly some of the\nrigging and sails, and such other things as might come to land; and I\nresolved to make another voyage on board the vessel, if possible. And\nas I knew that the first storm that blew must necessarily break her\nall in pieces, I resolved to set all other things apart till I got\neverything out of the ship that I could get. Then I called a council,\nthat is to say, in my thoughts, whether I should take back the raft,\nbut this appeared impracticable; so I resolved to go as before, when\nthe tide was down; and I did so, only that I stripped before I went\nfrom my hut, having nothing on but a checkered shirt and a pair of\nlinen drawers, and a pair of pumps on my feet.\nI got on board the ship as before, and prepared a second raft, and\nhaving had experience of the first, I neither made this so unwieldy,\nnor loaded it so hard; but yet I brought away several things very\nuseful to me; as, first, in the carpenter\u2019s store I found two or three\nbags full of nails and spikes, a great screw-jack, a dozen or two of\nhatchets, and above all that most useful thing called a grindstone.\nAll these I secured, together with several things belonging to the\ngunner, particularly two or three iron crows, and two barrels of musket\nbullets, seven muskets, and another fowling-piece, with some small\nquantity of powder more; a large bag full of small-shot, and a great\nroll of sheet lead; but this last was so heavy, I could not hoist it up\nto get it over the ship\u2019s side. Besides these things, I took all the\nmen\u2019s clothes that I could find, and a spare fore-top sail, a hammock,\nand some bedding, and with this I loaded my second raft, and brought\nthem all safe on shore, to my very great comfort.\nI was under some apprehensions during my absence from the land, that\nat least my provisions might be devoured on shore; but when I came\nback, I found no sign of any visitor, only there sat a creature like\na wild cat upon one of the chests, which, when I came towards it, ran\naway a little distance, and then stood still. She sat very composed\nand unconcerned, and looked full in my face, as if she had a mind to\nbe acquainted with me. I presented my gun at her; but as she did not\nunderstand it, she was perfectly unconcerned at it, nor did she offer\nto stir away; upon which I tossed her a bit of biscuit, though, by the\nway, I was not very free of it, for my store was not great. However, I\nspared her a bit, I say, and she went to it, smelled of it, and ate it\nand looked (as pleased) for more; but I thanked her and could spare no\nmore, so she marched off.\nHaving got my second cargo on shore, though I was fain to open the\nbarrels of powder and bring them by parcels, for they were too heavy,\nbeing large casks, I went to work to make me a little tent with the\nsail and some poles which I cut for that purpose; and into this tent I\nbrought everything that I knew would spoil either with rain or sun; and\nI piled all the empty chests and casks up in a circle round the tent,\nto fortify it from any sudden attempt, either from man or beast.\nWhen I had done this I blocked up the door of the tent with some boards\nwithin, and an empty chest set up on end without; and spreading one of\nthe beds upon the ground, laying my two pistols just at my head, and my\ngun at length by me, I went to bed for the first time, and slept very\nquietly all night, for I was very weary and heavy; for the night before\nI had slept little, and had labored very hard all day, as well to fetch\nall those things from the ship, as to get them on shore.\nI had the biggest magazine of all kinds now that ever was laid up, I\nbelieve, for one man; but I was not satisfied still, for while the ship\nsat upright in that posture, I thought I ought to get everything out\nof her that I could. So every day at low water I went on board, and\nbrought away something or other; but, particularly, the third time I\nwent I brought away as much of the rigging as I could, as also all the\nsmall ropes and rope-twine I could get, with a piece of spare canvas,\nwhich was to mend the sails upon occasion, the barrel of wet gunpowder;\nin a word, I brought away all the sails first and last, only that I was\nfain to cut them in pieces, and bring as much at a time as I could; for\nthey were no more useful to be sails, but as mere canvas only.\nBut that which comforted me more still was, that at last of all, after\nI had made five or six such voyages as these, and thought I had nothing\nmore to expect from the ship that was worth my meddling with; I say,\nafter all this, I found a great hogshead of bread, and three large\nrunlets of rum or spirits and a box of sugar, and a barrel of fine\nflour; this was surprising to me, because I had given over expecting\nany more provisions, except what was spoilt by the water. I soon\nemptied the hogshead of that bread, and wrapped it up parcel by parcel\nin pieces of the sails, which I cut out; and, in a word, I got all this\nsafe on shore also.\nThe next day I made another voyage. And now, having plundered the ship\nof what was portable and fit to hand out, I began with the cables;\nand cutting the great cable into pieces, such as I could move, I got\ntwo cables and a hawser on shore, with all the iron-work I could get;\nand having cut down the sprit-sail-yard, and the mizzen-yard, and\neverything I could to make a large raft, I loaded it with all those\nheavy goods, and came away. But my good luck began now to leave me;\nfor this raft was so unwieldy, and so overladen, that after I was\nentered the little cove where I had landed the rest of my goods, not\nbeing able to guide it so handily as I did the other, it overset,\nand threw me and all my cargo into the water. As for myself, it was\nno great harm, for I was near the shore; but as to my cargo, it was\ngreat part of it lost, especially the iron, which I expected would\nhave been of great use to me. However, when the tide was out I got\nmost of the pieces of cable ashore, and some of the iron, though with\ninfinite labor; for I was fain to dip for it into the water, a work\nwhich fatigued me very much. After this I went every day on board, and\nbrought away what I could get.\nI had been now thirteen days on shore, and had been eleven times on\nboard the ship; in which time I had brought away all that one pair\nof hands could well be supposed capable to bring, though I believe\nverily, had the calm weather held, I should have brought away the whole\nship piece by piece. But preparing the twelfth time to go on board, I\nfound the wind begin to rise. However, at low water I went on board,\nand though I thought I had rummaged the cabin so effectually as that\nnothing more could be found, yet I discovered a locker with drawers\nin it, in one of which I found two or three razors, and one pair of\nlarge scissors, with some ten or a dozen of good knives and forks; in\nanother, I found about thirty-six pounds value in money, some European\ncoin, some Brazil, some pieces of eight, some gold, some silver.\nI smiled to myself at the sight of this money. \u201cO drug!\u201d said I aloud,\n\u201cwhat art thou good for? Thou art not worth to me, no, not the taking\noff of the ground; one of those knives is worth all this heap. I have\nno manner of use for thee; even remain where thou art, and go to the\nbottom as a creature whose life is not worth saving.\u201d However, upon\nsecond thoughts, I took it away; and wrapping all this in a piece\nof canvas, I began to think of making another raft; but while I was\npreparing this, I found the sky overcast, and the wind began to rise,\nand in a quarter of an hour it blew a fresh gale from the shore. It\npresently occurred to me that it was in vain to pretend to make a raft\nwith the wind off shore, and that it was my business to be gone before\nthe tide of flood began, otherwise I might not be able to reach the\nshore at all. Accordingly I let myself down into the water, and swam\nacross the channel, which lay between the ship and the sands, and even\nthat with difficulty enough, partly with the weight of the things I had\nabout me, and partly the roughness of the water; for the wind rose very\nhastily, and before it was quite high water it blew a storm.\nBut I was gotten home to my little tent, where I lay with all my wealth\nabout me very secure. It blew very hard all that night, and in the\nmorning, when I looked out, behold, no more ship was to be seen. I\nwas a little surprised, but recovered myself with this satisfactory\nreflection, viz., that I had lost no time, nor abated no diligence, to\nget everything out of her that could be useful to me, and that indeed\nthere was little left in her that I was able to bring away if I had had\nmore time.\nI now gave over any more thoughts of the ship, or of anything out of\nher, except what might drive on shore from her wreck, as indeed divers\npieces of her afterwards did; but those things were of small use to me.\nMy thoughts were now wholly employed about securing myself against\neither savages, if any should appear, or wild beasts, if any were in\nthe island; and I had many thoughts of the method how to do this, and\nwhat kind of dwelling to make, whether I should make me a cave in the\nearth, or a tent upon the earth; and, in short, I resolved upon both,\nthe manner and description of which it may not be improper to give an\naccount of.\nI soon found the place I was in was not for my settlement, particularly\nbecause it was upon a low moorish ground near the sea, and I believed\nwould not be wholesome; and more particularly because there was no\nfresh water near it. So I resolved to find a more healthy and more\nconvenient spot of ground.\nI consulted several things in my situation, which I found would be\nproper for me. First, health and fresh water, I just now mentioned.\nSecondly, shelter from the heat of the sun. Thirdly, security from\nravenous creatures, whether men or beasts. Fourthly, a view to the sea,\nthat if God sent any ship in sight I might not lose any advantage for\nmy deliverance, of which I was not willing to banish all my expectation\nyet.\nIn search of a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the\nside of a rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep\nas a house-side, so that nothing could come down upon me from the top;\non the side of this rock there was a hollow place, worn a little way\nin, like the entrance or door of a cave; but there was not really any\ncave, or way into the rock at all.\nOn the flat of the green, just before this hollow place, I resolved to\npitch my tent. This plain was not above an hundred yards broad, and\nabout twice as long, and lay like a green before my door, and at the\nend of it descended irregularly every way down into the low grounds\nby the seaside. It was on the N.N.W. side of the hill, so that I was\nsheltered from the heat every day, till it came to a W. and by S. sun,\nor thereabouts, which in those countries is near the setting.\nBefore I set up my tent, I drew a half circle before the hollow place,\nwhich took in about ten yards in its semi-diameter from the rock, and\ntwenty yards in its diameter from its beginning and ending. In this\nhalf-circle I pitched two rows of strong stakes, driving them into the\nground till they stood very firm like piles, the biggest end being out\nof the ground about five feet and a half, and sharpened on the top. The\ntwo rows did not stand above six inches from one another.\nThen I took the pieces of cable which I had cut in the ship, and laid\nthem in rows one upon another, within the circle, between these two\nrows of stakes, up to the top, placing other stakes in the inside\nleaning against them, about two feet and a half high, like a spur to a\npost; and this fence was so strong, that neither man nor beast could\nget into it, or over it. This cost me a great deal of time and labor,\nespecially to cut the piles in the woods, bring them to the place, and\ndrive them into the earth.\nThe entrance into this place I made to be not by a door, but by a short\nladder, to go over the top; which ladder, when I was in, I lifted\nover after me, and so I was completely fenced in, and fortified, as\nI thought, from all the world, and consequently slept secure in the\nnight, which otherwise I could not have done; though, as it appeared\nafterwards, there was no need of all this caution from the enemies that\nI apprehended danger from.\nCHAPTER VI\n_Robinson Carries all His Riches, Provisions, etc., into His\nHabitation--Dreariness of Solitude--Consolatory Reflections_\nInto this fence or fortress, with infinite labor, I carried all my\nriches, all my provisions, ammunition, and stores, of which you have\nthe account above; and I made me a large tent, which, to preserve me\nfrom the rains that in one part of the year are very violent there, I\nmade double, viz., one smaller tent within, and one larger tent above\nit, and covered the uppermost with a large tarpaulin, which I had saved\namong the sails. And now I lay no more for a while in the bed which I\nhad brought on shore, but in a hammock, which was indeed a very good\none, and belonged to the mate of the ship.\nInto this tent I brought all my provisions, and everything that would\nspoil by the wet; and having thus enclosed all my goods, I made up the\nentrance, which, till now, I had left open, and so passed and repassed,\nas I said, by a short ladder.\nWhen I had done this, I began to work my way into the rock; and\nbringing all the earth and stones that I dug down out through my tent,\nI laid them up within my fence in the nature of a terrace, so that it\nraised the ground within about a foot and a half; and thus I made me a\ncave just behind my tent, which served me like a cellar to my house.\nIt cost me much labor, and many days, before all these things were\nbrought to perfection, and therefore I must go back to some other\nthings which took up some of my thoughts. At the same time it happened,\nafter I had laid my scheme for the setting up my tent, and making the\ncave, that a storm of rain falling from a thick dark cloud, a sudden\nflash of lightning happened, and after that a great clap of thunder,\nas is naturally the effect of it. I was not so much surprised with the\nlightning, as I was with a thought which darted into my mind as swift\nas the lightning itself. O my powder! My very heart sunk within me\nwhen I thought, that at one blast all my powder might be destroyed, on\nwhich, not my defence only, but the providing me food, as I thought,\nentirely depended. I was nothing near so anxious about my own danger;\nthough had the powder took fire, I had never known who had hurt me.\nSuch impression did this make upon me, that after the storm was over\nI laid aside all my works, my building, and fortifying, and applied\nmyself to make bags and boxes to separate the powder, and keep it a\nlittle and a little in a parcel, in hope that whatever might come\nit might not all take fire at once, and to keep it so apart, that\nit should not be possible to make one part fire another. I finished\nthis work in about a fortnight; and I think my powder, which in all\nwas about 240 pounds weight, was divided in not less than a hundred\nparcels. As to the barrel that had been wet, I did not apprehend any\ndanger from that, so I placed it in my new cave, which in my fancy I\ncalled my kitchen, and the rest I hid up and down in holes among the\nrocks, so that no wet might come to it, marking very carefully where I\nlaid it.\nIn the interval of time while this was doing, I went out once, at\nleast, every day with my gun, as well to divert myself, as to see if I\ncould kill anything fit for food, and as near as I could to acquaint\nmyself with what the island produced. The first time I went out, I\npresently discovered that there were goats in the island, which was a\ngreat satisfaction to me; but then it was attended with this misfortune\nto me, viz., that they were so shy, so subtle, and so swift of foot,\nthat it was the difficultest thing in the world to come at them. But\nI was not discouraged at this, not doubting but I might now and then\nshoot one, as it soon happened; for after I had found their haunts a\nlittle, I laid wait in this manner for them. I observed if they saw me\nin the valleys, though they were upon the rocks, they would run away as\nin a terrible fright; but if they were feeding in the valleys, and I\nwas upon the rocks, they took no notice of me, from whence I concluded\nthat, by the position of their optics, their sight was so directed\ndownward, that they did not readily see objects that were above them.\nSo afterwards I took this method; I always climbed the rocks first to\nget above them, and then had frequently a fair mark. The first shot I\nmade among these creatures I killed a she-goat, which had a little kid\nby her, which she gave suck to, which grieved me heartily; but when the\nold one fell, the kid stood stock still by her till I came and took\nher up; and not only so, but when I carried the old one with me upon\nmy shoulder, the kid followed me quite to my enclosure; upon which I\nlaid down the dam, and took the kid in my arms, and carried it over my\npale, in hopes to have bred it up tame; but it would not eat, so I was\nforced to kill it, and eat it myself. These two supplied me with flesh\na great while, for I ate sparingly, and saved my provisions, my bread\nespecially, as much as possibly I could.\nHaving now fixed my habitation, I found it absolutely necessary to\nprovide a place to make a fire in, and fuel to burn; and what I did for\nthat, as also how I enlarged my cave, and what conveniences I made, I\nshall give a full account of in its place. But I must first give some\nlittle account of myself, and of my thoughts about living, which it may\nwell be supposed were not a few.\nI had a dismal prospect of my condition; for as I was not cast away\nupon that island without being driven, as is said, by a violent storm,\nquite out of the course of our intended voyage, and a great way, viz.,\nsome hundreds of leagues out of the ordinary course of the trade of\nmankind, I had great reason to consider it as a determination of\nHeaven, that in this desolate place, and in this desolate manner, I\nshould end my life. The tears would run plentifully down my face when I\nmade these reflections, and sometimes I would expostulate with myself,\nwhy Providence should thus completely ruin its creatures, and render\nthem so absolutely miserable, so without help abandoned, so entirely\ndepressed, that it could hardly be rational to be thankful for such a\nlife.\nBut something always returned swift upon me to check these thoughts,\nand to reprove me; and particularly one day, walking with my gun in my\nhand by the seaside, I was very pensive upon the subject of my present\ncondition, when Reason, as it were, expostulated with me t\u2019other way,\nthus: \u201cWell, you are in a desolate condition, it is true, but pray\nremember, where are the rest of you? Did not you come eleven of you\ninto the boat? Where are the ten? Why were they not saved, and you\nlost? Why were you singled out? Is it better to be here, or there?\u201d And\nthen I pointed to the sea. All evils are to be considered with the good\nthat is in them, and with what worse attends them.\nThen it occurred to me again, how I was furnished for my subsistence,\nand what would have been my case if it had not happened, which was an\nhundred thousand to one, that the ship floated from the place where\nshe first struck and was driven so near to the shore that I had time\nto get all these things out of her; what would have been my case, if\nI had been to have lived in the condition in which I at first came\non shore, without necessaries of life, or necessaries to supply and\nprocure them? \u201cParticularly,\u201d said I aloud (though to myself), \u201cwhat\nshould I have done without a gun, without ammunition, without any tools\nto make anything or to work with, without clothes, bedding, a tent, or\nany manner of covering?\u201d and that now I had all these to a sufficient\nquantity, and was in a fair way to provide myself in such a manner, as\nto live without my gun when my ammunition was spent; so that I had a\ntolerable view of subsisting without any want as long as I lived. For\nI considered from the beginning how I would provide for the accidents\nthat might happen, and for the time that was to come, even not only\nafter my ammunition should be spent, but even after my health or\nstrength should decay.\nI confess I had not entertained any notion of my ammunition being\ndestroyed at one blast--I mean, my powder being blown up by lightning;\nand this made the thoughts of it so surprising to me when it lightened\nand thundered, as I observed just now.\nAnd now being to enter into a melancholy relation of a scene of silent\nlife, such, perhaps, as was never heard of in the world before, I shall\ntake it from its beginning, and continue it in its order. It was, by\nmy account, the 30th of September when, in the manner as above said, I\nfirst set foot upon this horrid island, when the sun being to us in its\nautumnal equinox, was almost just over my head, for I reckoned myself,\nby observation, to be in the latitude of 9 degrees 22 minutes north of\nthe line.\nCHAPTER VII\n_Robinson\u2019s Mode of Reckoning Time--Difficulties Arising from Want of\nTools--He Arranges His Habitation_\nAfter I had been there about ten or twelve days, it came into my\nthoughts that I should lose my reckoning of time for want of books and\npen and ink, and should even forget the Sabbath days from the working\ndays; but to prevent this, I cut it with my knife upon a large post, in\ncapital letters; and making it into a great cross, I set it up on the\nshore where I first landed, viz., \u201cI came on shore here on the 30th of\nSeptember, 1659.\u201d Upon the sides of this square post I cut every day a\nnotch with my knife, and every seventh notch was as long again as the\nrest, and every first day of the month as long again as that long one;\nand thus I kept my calendar, or weekly, monthly, and yearly reckoning\nof time.\nIn the next place we are to observe, that among the many things which\nI brought out of the ship in the several voyages, which, as above\nmentioned, I made to it, I got several things of less value, but not\nall less useful to me, which I omitted setting down before; as in\nparticular, pens, ink, and paper, several parcels in the captain\u2019s,\nmate\u2019s, gunner\u2019s, and carpenter\u2019s keeping, three or four compasses,\nsome mathematical instruments, dials, perspectives, charts, and books\nof navigation, all of which I huddled together, whether I might want\nthem or no. Also I found three very good Bibles, which came to me in\nmy cargo from England, and which I had packed up among my things; some\nPortuguese books also, and among them two or three Popish prayer-books,\nand several other books, all which I carefully secured. And I must not\nforget, that we had in the ship a dog and two cats, of whose eminent\nhistory I may have occasion to say something in its place; for I\ncarried both the cats with me; and as for the dog, he jumped out of\nthe ship of himself, and swam on shore to me the day after I went on\nshore with my first cargo, and was a trusty servant to me many years.\nI wanted nothing that he could fetch me, nor any company that he could\nmake up to me; I only wanted to have him talk to me, but that would not\ndo. As I observed before, I found pen, ink, and paper, and I husbanded\nthem to the utmost; and I shall show that while my ink lasted, I kept\nthings very exact; but after that was gone, I could not, for I could\nnot make any ink by any means that I could devise.\nAnd this put me in mind that I wanted many things, notwithstanding all\nthat I had amassed together; and of these, this of ink was one, as also\nspade, pick-axe, and shovel, to dig or remove the earth, needles, pins,\nand thread; as for linen, I soon learned to want that without much\ndifficulty.\n[Illustration: \u201c_--and making it into a great cross, I set it up on the\nshore where I first landed--_\u201d]\nThis want of tools made every work I did go on heavily; and it was\nnear a whole year before I had entirely finished my little pale or\nsurrounded habitation. The piles or stakes, which were as heavy as\nI could well lift, were a long time in cutting and preparing in the\nwoods, and more by far in bringing home; so that I spent sometimes two\ndays in cutting and bringing home one of those posts, and a third\nday in driving it into the ground; for which purpose I got a heavy\npiece of wood at first, but at last bethought myself of one of the iron\ncrows, which, however, though I found it, yet it made driving those\nposts or piles very laborious and tedious work.\nBut what need I have been concerned at the tediousness of anything I\nhad to do, seeing I had time enough to do it in? Nor had I any other\nemployment, if that had been over, at least, that I could foresee,\nexcept the ranging the island to seek for food, which I did more or\nless every day.\nI now began to consider seriously my condition, and the circumstance I\nwas reduced to; and I drew up the state of my affairs in writing; not\nso much to leave them to any that were to come after me, for I was like\nto have but few heirs, as to deliver my thoughts from daily poring upon\nthem, and afflicting my mind. And as my reason began now to master my\ndespondency, I began to comfort myself as well as I could, and to set\nthe good against the evil, that I might have something to distinguish\nmy case from worse; and I stated it very impartially, like debtor and\ncreditor, the comforts I enjoyed against the miseries I suffered, thus:\n     I am cast upon a horrible            But I am alive, and not\n  desolate island, void of all         drowned, as all my ship\u2019s\n  hope of recovery.                    company was.\n     I am singled out and separated,      But I am singled out, too,\n  as it were, from all the             from all the ship\u2019s crew to be\n  world to be miserable.               spared from death; and He\n     I am divided from mankind,           But I am not starved and\n  a solitaire, one banished            perishing on a barren place,\n  from human society.                  affording no sustenance.\n     I have not clothes to cover          But I am in a hot climate,\n     I am without any defence             But I am cast on an island,\n  or means to resist any violence      where I see no wild beasts to\n  of man or beast.                     hurt me, as I saw on the coast\n     I have no soul to speak to,          But God wonderfully sent\n  or relieve me.                       the ship in near enough to the\nUpon the whole, here was an undoubted testimony, that there was scarce\nany condition in the world so miserable, but there was something\nnegative or something positive to be thankful for in it; and let this\nstand as a direction from the experience of the most miserable of all\nconditions in this world, that we may always find in it something to\ncomfort ourselves from, and to set in the description of good and evil\non the credit side of the account.\nHaving now brought my mind a little to relish my condition, and given\nover looking out to sea, to see if I could spy a ship; I say, giving\nover these things, I began to apply myself to accommodate my way of\nliving, and to make things as easy to me as I could.\nI have already described my habitation, which was a tent under the\nside of a rock, surrounded with a strong pale of posts and cables;\nbut I might now rather call it a wall, for I raised a kind of wall up\nagainst it of turfs, about two feet thick on the outside, and after\nsome time--I think it was a year and a half--I raised rafters from it\nleading to the rock, and thatched or covered it with boughs of trees\nand such things as I could get to keep out the rain, which I found at\nsome times of the year very violent.\nI have already observed how I brought all my goods into this pale, and\ninto the cave which I had made behind me. But I must observe, too, that\nat first this was a confused heap of goods, which as they lay in no\norder, so they took up all my place; I had no room to turn myself. So\nI set myself to enlarge my cave and works farther into the earth; for\nit was a loose sandy rock, which yielded easily to the labor I bestowed\non it. And so, when I found I was pretty safe as to beasts of prey, I\nworked sideways to the right hand into the rock; and then, turning to\nthe right again, worked quite out, and made me a door to come out on\nthe outside of my pale or fortification. This gave me not only egress\nand regress, as it were a back-way to my tent and to my storehouse,\nbut gave me room to stow my goods.\nAnd now I began to apply myself to make such necessary things as I\nfound I most wanted, as particularly a chair and a table; for without\nthese I was not able to enjoy the few comforts I had in the world. I\ncould not write or eat, or do several things with so much pleasure\nwithout a table.\nSo I went to work; and here I must needs observe, that as reason is\nthe substance and original of the mathematics, so by stating and\nsquaring everything by reason, and by making the most rational judgment\nof things, every man may be in time master of every mechanic art.\nI had never handled a tool in my life; and yet in time, by labor,\napplication, and contrivance, I found at last that I wanted nothing but\nI could have made it, especially if I had had tools. However, I made\nabundance of things even without tools, and some with no more tools\nthan an adze and a hatchet, which, perhaps, were never made that way\nbefore, and that with infinite labor. For example, if I wanted a board,\nI had no other way but to cut down a tree, set it on an edge before me,\nand hew it flat on either side with my axe, till I had brought it to be\nthin as a plank, and then dub it smooth with my adze. It is true, by\nthis method I could make but one board out of a whole tree; but this I\nhad no remedy for but patience, any more than I had for the prodigious\ndeal of time and labor which it took me up to make a plank or board.\nBut my time or labor was little worth, and so it was as well employed\none way as another.\nHowever, I made me a table and a chair, as I observed above, in the\nfirst place, and this I did out of the short pieces of boards that\nI brought on my raft from the ship. But when I had wrought out some\nboards, as above, I made large shelves of the breadth of a foot and a\nhalf one over another, all along one side of my cave, to lay all my\ntools, nails, and iron-work; and, in a word, to separate everything\nat large in their places, that I might come easily at them. I knocked\npieces into the wall of the rock to hang my guns and all things that\nwould hang up; so that had my cave been to be seen, it looked like a\ngeneral magazine of all necessary things; and I had everything so ready\nat my hand, that it was a great pleasure to me to see all my goods in\nsuch order, and especially to find my stock of all necessaries so great.\nAnd now it was when I began to keep a journal of every day\u2019s\nemployment; for, indeed, at first I was in too much hurry, and not\nonly hurry as to labor, but in too much discomposure of mind; and\nmy journal would have been full of many dull things. For example, I\nmust have said thus: _Sept, the 30th_.--After I got to shore, and had\nescaped drowning, instead of being thankful to God for my deliverance,\nhaving first vomited with the great quantity of salt water which was\ngotten into my stomach, and recovering myself a little, I ran about the\nshore, wringing my hands, and beating my head and face, exclaiming at\nmy misery, and crying out, I was undone, undone, till, tired and faint,\nI was forced to lie down on the ground to repose; but durst not sleep,\nfor fear of being devoured.\nSome days after this, and after I had been on board the ship, and got\nall that I could out of her, yet I could not forbear getting up to the\ntop of a little mountain, and looking out to sea, in hopes of seeing a\nship; then fancy at a vast distance I spied a sail, please myself with\nthe hopes of it, and then, after looking steadily till I was almost\nblind, lose it quite, and sit down and weep like a child, and thus\nincrease my misery by my folly.\nBut having gotten over these things in some measure, and having settled\nmy household stuff and habitation, made me a table and a chair, and all\nas handsome about me as I could, I began to keep my journal, of which\nI shall here give you the copy (though in it will be told all these\nparticulars over again) as long as it lasted; for, having no more ink,\nI was forced to leave it off.\nCHAPTER VIII\n_Robinson\u2019s Journal--Details of His Domestic Economy and\nContrivances--Shock of an Earthquake_\n_September 30, 1659._--I, poor miserable Robinson Crusoe, being\nshipwrecked, during a dreadful storm, in the offing, came on shore on\nthis dismal unfortunate island, which I called the Island of Despair,\nall the rest of the ship\u2019s company being drowned, and myself almost\ndead.\nAll the rest of that day I spent in afflicting myself at the dismal\ncircumstances I was brought to, viz., I had neither food, house,\nclothes, weapon, nor place to fly to; and in despair of any relief, saw\nnothing but death before me; either that I should be devoured by wild\nbeasts, murdered by savages, or starved to death for want of food. At\nthe approach of night, I slept in a tree for fear of wild creatures,\nbut slept soundly, though it rained all night.\n_Oct. 1._--In the morning I saw, to my great surprise, the ship had\nfloated with the high tide, and was driven on shore again much nearer\nthe island; which, as it was some comfort on one hand, for seeing her\nsit upright, and not broken to pieces, I hoped, if the wind abated, I\nmight get on board, and get some food and necessaries out of her for\nmy relief; so, on the other hand, it renewed my grief at the loss of\nmy comrades, who, I imagined, if we had all stayed on board, might\nhave saved the ship, or at least that they would not have been all\ndrowned as they were; and that had the men been saved, we might perhaps\nhave built us a boat out of the ruins of the ship, to have carried us\nto some other part of the world. I spent great part of this day in\nperplexing myself on these things; but at length seeing the ship almost\ndry, I went upon the sand as near as I could, and then swam on board;\nthis day also it continued raining, though with no wind at all.\nFrom the 1st of _October_ to the 24th.--All these days entirely spent\nin many several voyages to get all I could out of the ship, which I\nbrought on shore, every tide of flood, upon rafts. Much rain also in\nthese days, though with some intervals of fair weather; but, it seems,\nthis was the rainy season.\n_Oct. 20._--I overset my raft, and all the goods I had got upon it; but\nbeing in shoal water, and the things being chiefly heavy, I recovered\nmany of them when the tide was out.\n_Oct. 25._--It rained all night and all day, with some gusts of wind,\nduring which time the ship broke in pieces, the wind blowing a little\nharder than before, and was no more to be seen, except the wreck of\nher, and that only at low water. I spent this day in covering and\nsecuring the goods which I had saved, that the rain might not spoil\nthem.\n_Oct. 26._--I walked about the shore almost all day to find out a\nplace to fix my habitation, greatly concerned to secure myself from\nan attack in the night, either from wild beasts or men. Towards night\nI fixed upon a proper place under a rock, and marked out a semicircle\nfor my encampment, which I resolved to strengthen with a work, wall,\nor fortification made of double piles, lined within with cables, and\nwithout with turf.\nFrom the 26th to the 30th I worked very hard in carrying all my goods\nto my new habitation, though some part of the time it rained exceeding\nhard.\nThe 31st, in the morning, I went out into the island with my gun to\nseek for some food, and discover the country; when I killed a she-goat,\nand her kid followed me home, which I afterwards killed also, because\nit would not feed.\n_Nov. 1._--I set up my tent under a rock, and lay there the first\nnight, making it as large as I could, with stakes driven in to swing my\nhammock upon.\n_Nov. 2._--I set up all my chests and boards, and the pieces of timber\nwhich made my rafts, and with them formed a fence round me, a little\nwithin the place I had marked out for my fortification.\n_Nov. 3._--I went out with my gun, and killed two fowls like ducks,\nwhich were very good food. In the afternoon went to work to make me a\ntable.\n_Nov. 4._--This morning I began to order my times of work, of going\nout with my gun, time of sleep, and time of diversion, viz., every\nmorning I walked out with my gun for two or three hours, if it did not\nrain; then employed myself to work till about eleven o\u2019clock; then eat\nwhat I had to live on; and from twelve to two I lay down to sleep, the\nweather being excessive hot; and then in the evening to work again. The\nworking part of this day and of the next were wholly employed in making\nmy table; for I was yet but a very sorry workman, though time and\nnecessity made me a complete natural mechanic soon after, as I believe\nit would do any one else.\n_Nov. 5._--This day went abroad with my gun and my dog, and killed a\nwild cat; her skin pretty soft, but her flesh good for nothing. Every\ncreature I killed, I took off the skins and preserved them. Coming\nback by the sea-shore, I saw many sorts of sea-fowls, which I did not\nunderstand; but was surprised, and almost frightened, with two or three\nseals, which, while I was gazing at, not well knowing what they were,\ngot into the sea, and escaped me for that time.\n_Nov. 6._--After my morning walk I went to work with my table again,\nand finished it, though not to my liking; nor was it long before I\nlearned to mend it.\n_Nov. 7._--Now it began to be settled fair weather. The 7th, 8th, 9th,\n10th, and part of the 12th (for the 11th was Sunday) I took wholly up\nto make me a chair, and with much ado, brought it to a tolerable shape,\nbut never to please me; and even in the making, I pulled it in pieces\nseveral times. Note, I soon neglected my keeping Sundays; for, omitting\nmy mark for them on my post, I forgot which was which.\n_Nov. 13._--This day it rained, which refreshed me exceedingly, and\ncooled the earth; but it was accompanied with terrible thunder and\nlightning, which frightened me dreadfully, for fear of my powder. As\nsoon as it was over, I resolved to separate my stock of powder into as\nmany little parcels as possible, that it might not be in danger.\n_Nov. 14, 15, 16._--These three days I spent in making little square\nchests or boxes, which might hold about a pound, or two pound at most,\nof powder; and so putting the powder in, I stowed it in places as\nsecure and remote from one another as possible. On one of these three\ndays I killed a large bird that was good to eat, but I know not what to\ncall it.\n_Nov. 17._--This day I began to dig behind my tent into the rock,\nto make room for my farther convenience. Note, three things I\nwanted exceedingly for this work, viz., a pick-axe, a shovel, and\na wheelbarrow or basket; so I desisted from my work, and began to\nconsider how to supply that want, and make me some tools. As for a\npick-axe, I made use of the iron crows, which were proper enough,\nthough heavy; but the next thing was a shovel or spade. This was so\nabsolutely necessary, that indeed I could do nothing effectually\nwithout it; but what kind of one to make, I knew not.\n_Nov. 18._--The next day, in searching the woods, I found a tree\nof that wood, or like it, which in the Brazils they call the iron\ntree, for its exceeding hardness; of this, with great labor, and\nalmost spoiling my axe, I cut a piece, and brought it home, too, with\ndifficulty enough, for it was exceeding heavy.\nThe excessive hardness of the wood, and having no other way, made me a\nlong while upon this machine, for I worked it effectually, by little\nand little, into the form of a shovel or spade, the handle exactly\nshaped like ours in England, only that the broad part having no iron\nshod upon it at bottom, it would not last me so long. However, it\nserved well enough for the uses which I had occasion to put it to; but\nnever was a shovel, I believe, made after that fashion, or so long\na-making.\nI was still deficient, for I wanted a basket or a wheelbarrow. A\nbasket I could not make by any means, having no such things at twigs\nthat would bend to make wicker-ware, at least none yet found out. And\nas to a wheelbarrow, I fancied I could make all but the wheel, but that\nI had no notion of, neither did I know how to go about it; besides, I\nhad no possible way to make the iron gudgeons for the spindle or axis\nof the wheel to run in, so I gave it over; and so for carrying away the\nearth which I dug out of the cave, I made me a thing like a hod which\nthe laborers carry mortar in, when they serve the bricklayers.\nThis was not so difficult to me as the making the shovel; and yet\nthis, and the shovel, and the attempt which I made in vain to make\na wheelbarrow, took me up no less than four days; I mean always,\nexcepting my morning walk with my gun, which I seldom failed, and very\nseldom failed also bringing home something fit to eat.\n_Nov. 23._--My other work having now stood still because of my making\nthese tools, when they were finished I went on, and working every\nday, as my strength and time allowed, I spent eighteen days entirely\nin widening and deepening my cave, that it might hold my goods\ncommodiously.\n_Note._--During all this time I worked to make this room or cave\nspacious enough to accommodate me as a warehouse or magazine, a\nkitchen, a dining-room, and a cellar; as for my lodging, I kept to the\ntent, except that sometimes in the wet season of the year it rained\nso hard, that I could not keep myself dry, which caused me afterwards\nto cover all my place within my pale with long poles, in the form of\nrafters, leaning against the rock, and load them with flags and large\nleaves of trees, like a thatch.\n_Dec. 10._--I began now to think my cave or vault finished, when on a\nsudden (it seems I had made it too large) a great quantity of earth\nfell down from the top and one side, so much, that, in short, it\nfrightened me, and not without reason too; for if I had been under it,\nI had never wanted a grave-digger. Upon this disaster I had a great\ndeal of work to do over again; for I had the loose earth to carry out;\nand, which was of more importance, I had the ceiling to prop up, so\nthat I might be sure no more would come down.\n_Dec. 11._--This day I went to work with it accordingly, and got two\nshores or posts pitched upright to the top, with two pieces of boards\nacross over each post. This I finished the next day; and setting more\nposts up with boards, in about a week more I had the roof secure; and\nthe posts standing in rows, served me for partitions to part of my\nhouse.\n_Dec. 17._--From this day to the twentieth I placed shelves, and\nknocked up nails on the posts to hang everything up that could be hung\nup; and now I began to be in some order within doors.\n_Dec. 20._--Now I carried everything into the cave, and began to\nfurnish my house, and set up some pieces of boards, like a dresser, to\norder my victuals upon; but boards began to be very scarce with me;\nalso I made me another table.\n_Dec. 24._--Much rain all night and all day; no stirring out.\n_Dec. 25._--Rain all day.\n_Dec. 26._--No rain, and the earth much cooler than before, and\npleasanter.\n_Dec. 27._--Killed a young goat, and lamed another, so that I caught\nit, and led it home on a string. When I had it home, I bound and\nsplintered up its leg, which was broke. _N.B._--I took such care of it,\nthat it lived; and the leg grew well and as strong as ever; but by my\nnursing it so long it grew tame, and fed upon the little green at my\ndoor, and would not go away. This was the first time that I entertained\na thought of breeding up some tame creatures, that I might have food\nwhen my powder and shot was all spent.\n_Dec. 28, 29, 30._--Great heats and no breeze, so that there was no\nstirring abroad, except in the evening, for food. This time I spent in\nputting all my things in order within doors.\n_Jan. 1._--Very hot still, but I went abroad early and late with my\ngun, and lay still in the middle of the day. This evening, going\nfarther into the valleys which lay towards the centre of the island, I\nfound there was plenty of goats, though exceeding shy, and hard to come\nat. However I resolved to try if I could not bring my dog to hunt them\ndown.\n_Jan. 2._--Accordingly, the next day, I went out with my dog, and set\nhim upon the goats; but I was mistaken, for they all faced about upon\nthe dog; and he knew his danger too well, for he would not come near\nthem.\n_Jan. 8._--I began my fence or wall; which, being still jealous of my\nbeing attacked by somebody, I resolved to make very thick and strong.\n_N.B._--This wall being described before, I purposely omit what\nwas said in the journal. It is sufficient to observe that I was no\nless time than from the 3rd of January to the 14th of April working,\nfinishing, and perfecting this wall, though it was no more than about\ntwenty-four yards in length, being a half circle from one place in the\nrock to another place about eight yards from it, the door of the cave\nbeing in the centre behind it.\nAll this time I worked very hard, the rains hindering me many days,\nnay, sometimes weeks together; but I thought I should never be\nperfectly secure till this wall was finished. And it is scarce credible\nwhat inexpressible labor everything was done with, especially the\nbringing piles out of the woods, and driving them into the ground; for\nI made them much bigger than I need to have done.\nWhen this wall was finished, and the outside double-fenced with a\nturf-wall raised up close to it, I persuaded myself that if any people\nwere to come on shore there, they would not perceive anything like a\nhabitation; and it was very well I did so, as may be observed hereafter\nupon a very remarkable occasion.\nDuring this time, I made my rounds in the woods for game every day,\nwhen the rain admitted me, and made frequent discoveries in these walks\nof something or other to my advantage; particularly I found a kind of\nwild pigeons, who built, not as wood pigeons, in a tree, but rather as\nhouse pigeons, in the holes of the rocks. And taking some young ones, I\nendeavored to breed them up tame, and did so; but when they grew older\nthey flew all away, which, perhaps, was at first for want of feeding\nthem, for I had nothing to give them. However, I frequently found their\nnests, and got their young ones, which were very good meat.\nAnd now in the managing my household affairs I found myself wanting in\nmany things, which I thought at first it was impossible for me to make,\nas indeed, as to some of them, it was. For instance, I could never make\na cask to be hooped; I had a small runlet or two, as I observed before,\nbut I could never arrive to the capacity of making one by them, though\nI spent many weeks about it. I could neither put in the heads, or joint\nthe staves so true to one another, as to make them hold water; so I\ngave that also over.\nIn the next place, I was at a great loss for candles; so that as soon\nas ever it was dark, which was generally by seven o\u2019clock, I was\nobliged to go to bed. I remembered the lump of beeswax with which I\nmade candles in my African adventure, but I had none of that now.\nThe only remedy I had was, that when I had killed a goat I saved the\ntallow, and with a little dish made of clay, which I baked in the sun,\nto which I added a wick of some oakum, I made me a lamp; and this gave\nme light, though not a clear steady light like a candle.\nIn the middle of all my labors it happened, that rummaging my things,\nI found a little bag, which, as I hinted before, had been filled with\ncorn for the feeding of poultry, not for this voyage, but before, as I\nsuppose, when the ship came from Lisbon. What little remainder of corn\nhad been in the bag was all devoured with the rats, and I saw nothing\nin the bag but husks and dust; and being willing to have the bag for\nsome other use, I think it was to put powder in, when I divided it for\nfear of the lightning, or some such use, I shook the husks of corn out\nof it on one side of my fortification, under the rock. It was a little\nbefore the great rains, just now mentioned, that I threw this stuff\naway, taking no notice of anything, and not so much as remembering\nthat I had thrown anything there; when, about a month after, or\nthereabout, I saw some few stalks of something green shooting out of\nthe ground, which I fancied might be some plant I had not seen; but I\nwas surprised, and perfectly astonished, when, after a little longer\ntime, I saw about ten or twelve ears come out, which were perfect green\nbarley of the same kind as our European, nay, as our English barley.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment and confusion of my\nthoughts on this occasion. I had hitherto acted upon no religious\nfoundation at all; indeed, I had very few notions of religion in my\nhead, or had entertained any sense of anything that had befallen me\notherwise than as a chance, or, as we lightly say, what pleases God;\nwithout so much as inquiring into the end of Providence in these\nthings, or His order in governing events in the world. But after I\nsaw barley grow there, in a climate which I know was not proper for\ncorn, and especially that I knew not how it came there, it startled\nme strangely, and I began to suggest that God had miraculously caused\nthis grain to grow without any help of seed sown, and that it was so\ndirected purely for my sustenance on that wild miserable place.\nThis touched my heart a little, and brought tears out of my eyes; and\nI began to bless myself, that such a prodigy of Nature should happen\nupon my account; and this was the more strange to me, because I saw\nnear it still, all along by the side of the rock, some other straggling\nstalks, which proved to be stalks of rice, and which I knew, because I\nhad seen it grow in Africa, when I was ashore there.\nI not only thought these the pure productions of Providence for my\nsupport, but, not doubting but that there was more in the place, I\nwent all over that part of the island where I had been before, peering\nin every corner, and under every rock, to see for more of it; but I\ncould not find any. At last it occurred to my thoughts that I had\nshook a bag of chickens\u2019 meat out in that place, and then the wonder\nbegan to cease; and I must confess, my religious thankfulness to God\u2019s\nprovidence began to abate too, upon the discovering that all this was\nnothing but what was common; though I ought to have been as thankful\nfor so strange and unforeseen Providence, as if it had been miraculous;\nfor it was really the work of Providence as to me, that should order or\nappoint, that ten or twelve grains of corn should remain unsoiled (when\nthe rats had destroyed all the rest), as if it had been dropped from\nheaven; as also that I should throw it out in that particular place,\nwhere, it being in the shade of a high rock, it sprang out immediately;\nwhereas, if I had thrown it anywhere else at that time, it had been\nburnt up and destroyed.\nI carefully saved the ears of this corn, you may be sure, in their\nseason, which was about the end of June; and laying up every corn, I\nresolved to sow them all again, hoping in time to have some quantity\nsufficient to supply me with bread. But it was not till the fourth year\nthat I could allow myself the least grain of this corn to eat, and even\nthen but sparingly, as I shall say afterwards in its order; for I lost\nall that I sowed the first season, by not observing the proper time;\nfor I sowed it just before the dry season, so that it never came up at\nall, at least not as it would have done; of which in its place.\nBesides this barley, there was, as above, twenty or thirty stalks of\nrice, which I preserved with the same care, and whose use was of the\nsame kind, or to the same purpose, viz., to make me bread, or rather\nfood; for I found ways to cook it up without baking, though I did that\nalso after some time. But to return to my journal.\nI worked excessive hard these three or four months to get my wall done;\nand on the 14th of April I closed it up, contriving to go into it, not\nby a door, but over the wall by a ladder, that there might be no sign\nin the outside of my habitation.\n_April 16._--I finished the ladder, so I went up with the ladder to the\ntop, and then pulled it up after me, and let it down on the inside.\nThis was a complete enclosure to me; for within I had room enough, and\nnothing could come at me from without, unless it could first mount my\nwall.\nThe very next day after this wall was finished, I had almost had all\nmy labor overthrown at once, and myself killed. The case was thus: As\nI was busy in the inside of it, behind my tent, just in the entrance\ninto my cave, I was terribly frightened with a most dreadful surprising\nthing indeed; for all on a sudden I found the earth come crumbling\ndown from the roof of my cave, and from the edge of the hill over\nmy head, and two of the posts I had set up in the cave cracked in a\nfrightful manner. I was heartily scared, but thought nothing of what\nwas really the cause, only thinking that the top of my cave was falling\nin, as some of it had done before; and for fear I should be buried in\nit, I ran forward to my ladder; and not thinking myself safe there\nneither, I got over my wall for fear of the pieces of the hill which I\nexpected might roll down upon me. I was no sooner stepped down upon the\nfirm ground, but I plainly saw it was a terrible earthquake; for the\nground I stood on shook three times at about eight minutes\u2019 distance,\nwith three such shocks, as would have overturned the strongest building\nthat could be supposed to have stood on the earth; and a great piece of\nthe top of a rock, which stood about half a mile from me next the sea,\nfell down with such a terrible noise, as I never heard in all my life.\nI perceived also the very sea was put into violent motion by it; and I\nbelieve the shocks were stronger under the water than on the island.\nI was so amazed with the thing itself, having never felt the like,\nor discoursed with any one that had, that I was like one dead or\nstupefied; and the motion of the earth made my stomach sick, like one\nthat was tossed at sea. But the noise of the falling of the rock awaked\nme, as it were, and rousing me from the stupefied condition I was in,\nfilled me with horror, and I thought of nothing then but the hill\nfalling upon my tent and all my household goods, and burying all at\nonce; and this sunk my very soul within me a second time.\nAfter the third shock was over, and I felt no more for some time, I\nbegan to take courage; and yet I had not heart enough to go over my\nwall again, for fear of being buried alive, but sat still upon the\nground, greatly cast down and disconsolate, not knowing what to do. All\nthis while I had not the least serious religious thought, nothing but\nthe common, \u201cLord, have mercy upon me!\u201d and when it was over, that went\naway too.\nWhile I sat thus, I found the air overcast, and grow cloudy, as if it\nwould rain. Soon after that the wind rose by little and little, so that\nin less than half an hour it blew a most dreadful hurricane. The sea\nwas all on a sudden covered over with foam and froth; the shore was\ncovered with the breach of the water; the trees were torn up by the\nroots; and a terrible storm it was; and this held about three hours,\nand then began to abate; and in two hours more it was stark calm, and\nbegan to rain very hard.\nAll this while I sat upon the ground, very much terrified and dejected;\nwhen on a sudden it came into my thoughts, that these winds and rain\nbeing the consequences of the earthquake, the earthquake itself was\nspent and over, and I might venture into my cave again. With this\nthought my spirits began to revive; and the rain also helping to\npersuade me, I went in and sat down in my tent. But the rain was so\nviolent, that my tent was ready to be beaten down with it, and I was\nforced to go into my cave, though very much afraid and uneasy, for\nfear it should fall on my head.\nThis violent rain forced me to a new work, viz., to cut a hole through\nmy new fortification, like a sink to let the water go out, which would\nelse have drowned my cave. After I had been in my cave some time, and\nfound still no more shocks of the earthquake follow, I began to be more\ncomposed. And now to support my spirits, which indeed wanted it very\nmuch, I went to my little store, and took a small sup of rum, which,\nhowever, I did then, and always very sparingly, knowing I could have no\nmore when that was gone.\nIt continued raining all that night and great part of the next day,\nso that I could not stir abroad; but my mind being more composed, I\nbegan to think of what I had best do, concluding that if the island\nwas subject to these earthquakes, there would be no living for me in\na cave, but I must consider of building me some little hut in an open\nplace, which I might surround with a wall, as I had done here, and so\nmake myself secure from wild beasts or men; but concluded, if I stayed\nwhere I was, I should certainly, one time or other, be buried alive.\nWith these thoughts I resolved to remove my tent from the place where\nit stood, which was just under the hanging precipice of the hill, and\nwhich, if it should be shaken again, would certainly fall upon my tent;\nand I spent the two next days, being the 19th and 20th of April, in\ncontriving where and how to remove my habitation.\n[Illustration: \u201c_All this while I sat upon the ground, very much\nterrified and dejected_\u201d]\nThe fear of being swallowed up alive made me that I never slept\nin quiet; and yet the apprehension of lying abroad without any fence\nwas almost equal to it. But still, when I looked about and saw how\neverything was put in order, how pleasantly concealed I was, and how\nsafe from danger, it made me very loth to remove.\nIn the meantime it occurred to me that it would require a vast deal of\ntime for me to do this, and that I must be contented to run the venture\nwhere I was, till I had formed a camp for myself, and had secured it\nso as to remove to it. So with this resolution I composed myself for a\ntime, and resolved that I would go to work with all speed to build me a\nwall with piles and cable, etc., in a circle as before, and set my tent\nup in it when it was finished, but that I would venture to stay where I\nwas till it was finished, and fit to remove to. This was the 21st.\n_April 22._--The next morning I began to consider of means to put\nthis resolve in execution; but I was at a great loss about my tools.\nI had three large axes, and abundance of hatchets (for we carried the\nhatchets for traffic with the Indians), but with much chopping and\ncutting knotty hard wood, they were all full of notches and dull; and\nthough I had a grindstone, I could not turn it and grind my tools too.\nThis cost me as much thought as a statesman would have bestowed upon a\ngrand point of politics, or a judge upon the life and death of a man.\nAt length I contrived a wheel with a string, to turn it with my foot,\nthat I might have both my hands at liberty. Note, I had never seen any\nsuch thing in England, or at least not to take notice how it was done,\nthough since I have observed it is very common there; besides that, my\ngrindstone was very large and heavy. This machine cost me a full week\u2019s\nwork to bring it to perfection.\n_April 28, 29._--These two whole days I took up in grinding my tools,\nmy machine for turning my grindstone performing very well.\n_April 30._--Having perceived my bread had been low a great while, now\nI took a survey of it, and reduced myself to one biscuit-cake a day,\nwhich made my heart very heavy.\nCHAPTER IX\n_Robinson Obtains More Articles from the Wreck--His Illness and\nAffliction_\n_May 1._--In the morning, looking towards the seaside, the tide being\nlow, I saw something lie on the shore bigger than ordinary, and it\nlooked like a cask. When I came to it, I found a small barrel, and two\nor three pieces of the wreck of the ship, which were driven on shore by\nthe late hurricane; and looking towards the wreck itself, I thought it\nseemed to lie higher out of the water than it used to do. I examined\nthe barrel which was driven on shore, and soon found it was a barrel of\ngunpowder; but it had taken water, and the powder was caked as hard as\nstone. However, I rolled it farther on shore for the present, and went\non upon the sands as near as I could to the wreck of the ship to look\nfor more.\nWhen I came down to the ship I found it strangely removed. The\nforecastle, which lay before buried in sand, was heaved up at least six\nfeet; and the stern, which was broken to pieces, and parted from the\nrest by the force of the sea soon after I had left rummaging her, was\ntossed, as it were, up, and cast on one side, and the sand was thrown\nso high on that side next her stern, that whereas there was a great\nplace of water before, so that I could not come within a quarter of a\nmile of the wreck without swimming, I could now walk quite up to her\nwhen the tide was out. I was surprised with this at first, but soon\nconcluded it must be done by the earthquake. And as by this violence\nthe ship was more broken open than formerly, so many things came daily\non shore, which the sea had loosened, and which the winds and water\nrolled by degrees to the land.\nThis wholly diverted my thoughts from the design of removing my\nhabitation; and I busied myself mightily, that day especially, in\nsearching whether I could make any way into the ship. But I found\nnothing was to be expected of that kind, for that all the inside of the\nship was choked up with sand. However, as I had learned not to despair\nof anything, I resolved to pull everything to pieces that I could of\nthe ship, concluding, that everything I could get from her would be of\nsome use or other to me.\n_May 3._--I began with my saw, and cut a piece of a beam through, which\nI thought held some of the upper part or quarter-deck together; and\nwhen I had cut it through, I cleared away the sand as well as I could\nfrom the side which lay highest; but the tide coming in, I was obliged\nto give over for that time.\n_May 4._--I went a-fishing, but caught not one fish that I durst eat\nof, till I was weary of my sport; when, just going to leave off, I\ncaught a young dolphin. I had made me a long line of some rope-yarn,\nbut I had no hooks; yet I frequently caught fish enough, as much as I\ncared to eat; all which I dried in the sun, and eat them dry.\n_May 5._--Worked on the wreck, cut another beam asunder, and brought\nthree great fir-planks off from the decks, which I tied together, and\nmade swim on shore, when the tide flood came on.\n_May 6._--Worked on the wreck, got several iron bolts out of her, and\nother pieces of ironwork; worked very hard, and came home very much\ntired, and had thoughts of giving it over.\n_May 7._--Went to the wreck again, but with an intent not to work, but\nfound the weight of the wreck had broke itself down, the beams being\ncut; that several pieces of the ship seemed to lie loose, and the\ninside of the hold lay so open, that I could see into it, but almost\nfull of water and sand.\n_May 8._--Went to the wreck, and carried an iron crow to wrench up the\ndeck, which lay now quite clear of the water and sand. I wrenched open\ntwo planks, and brought them on shore also with the tide. I left the\niron crow in the wreck for the next day.\n_May 9._--Went to the wreck, and with the crow made way into the body\nof the wreck, and felt several casks, and loosened them with the crow,\nbut could not break them up. I felt also the roll of English lead, and\ncould stir it, but it was too heavy to remove.\n_May 10, 11, 12, 13, 14._--Went every day to the wreck, and got a\ngreat deal of pieces of timber, and boards, or plank, and two or three\nhundredweight of iron.\n_May 15._--I carried two hatchets to try if I could not cut a piece off\nof the roll of lead, by placing the edge of one hatchet, and driving it\nwith the other; but as it lay about a foot and a half in the water, I\ncould not make any blow to drive the hatchet.\n_May 16._--It had blowed hard in the night, and the wreck appeared more\nbroken by the force of the water; but I stayed so long in the woods to\nget pigeons for food, that the tide prevented me going to the wreck\nthat day.\n_May 17._--I saw some pieces of the wreck blown on shore, at a great\ndistance, near two miles off me, but resolved to see what they were,\nand found it was a piece of the head, but too heavy for me to bring\naway.\n_May 24._--Every day to this day I worked on the wreck, and with hard\nlabor I loosened some things so much with the crow, that the first\nblowing tide several casks floated out, and two of the seamen\u2019s chests.\nBut the wind blowing from the shore, nothing came to land that day but\npieces of timber, and a hogshead, which had some Brazil pork in it, but\nthe salt water and the sand had spoiled it.\nI continued this work every day to the 15th of June, except the time\nnecessary to get food, which I always appointed, during this part of\nmy employment, to be when the tide was up, that I might be ready when\nit was ebbed out. And by this time I had gotten timber, and plank,\nand ironwork enough to have builded a good boat, if I had known how;\nand also, I got at several times, and in several pieces, near one\nhundredweight of the sheet lead.\n_June 16._--Going down to the seaside, I found a large tortoise,\nor turtle. This was the first I had seen, which it seems was only\nmy misfortune, not any defect of the place, or scarcity; for had\nI happened to be on the other side of the island, I might have had\nhundreds of them every day, as I found afterwards; but, perhaps, had\npaid dear enough for them.\n_June 17_--I spent in cooking the turtle. I found in her threescore\neggs; and her flesh was to me, at that time, the most savory and\npleasant that ever I tasted in my life, having had no flesh, but of\ngoats and fowls, since I landed in this horrid place.\n_June 18._--Rained all day, and I stayed within. I thought at this time\nthe rain felt cold, and I was something chilly, which I knew was not\nusual in that latitude.\n_June 19._--Very ill, and shivering, as if the weather had been cold.\n_June 20._--No rest all night; violent pains in my head, and feverish.\n_June 21._--Very ill, frightened almost to death with the apprehensions\nof my sad condition, to be sick, and no help. Prayed to God for the\nfirst time since the storm off of Hull, but scarce knew what I said, or\nwhy; my thoughts being all confused.\n_June 22._--A little better, but under dreadful apprehensions of\nsickness.\n_June 23._--Very bad again; cold and shivering, and then a violent\nheadache.\n_June 24._--Much better.\n_June 25._--An ague very violent; the fit held me seven hours; cold\nfit, and hot, with faint sweats after it.\n_June 26._--Better; and having no victuals to eat, took my gun, but\nfound myself very weak. However, I killed a she-goat, and with much\ndifficulty got it home, and broiled some of it, and ate. I would fain\nhave stewed it and made some broth, but had no pot.\n_June 27._--The ague again so violent that I lay abed all day, and\nneither ate nor drank. I was ready to perish for thirst; but so weak,\nI had not strength to stand up, or to get myself any water to drink.\nPrayed to God again, but was light-headed; and when I was not, I was\nso ignorant that I knew not what to say; only I lay and cried, \u201cLord,\nlook upon me! Lord, pity me! Lord, have mercy upon me!\u201d I suppose I did\nnothing else for two or three hours, till the fit wearing off, I fell\nasleep, and did not wake till far in the night. When I waked, I found\nmyself much refreshed, but weak, and exceeding thirsty. However, as I\nhad no water in my whole habitation, I was forced to lie till morning,\nand went to sleep again. In this second sleep I had this terrible dream.\nI thought that I was sitting on the ground, on the outside of my wall,\nwhere I sat when the storm blew after the earthquake, and that I saw\na man descend from a great black cloud, in a bright flame of fire,\nand light upon the ground. He was all over as bright as a flame, so\nthat I could but just bear to look towards him. His countenance was\nmost inexpressibly dreadful, impossible for words to describe. When he\nstepped upon the ground with his feet, I thought the earth trembled,\njust as it had done before in the earthquake, and all the air looked,\nto my apprehension, as if it had been filled with flashes of fire.\nHe was no sooner landed upon the earth, but he moved forward towards\nme, with a long spear or weapon in his hand, to kill me; and when he\ncame to a rising ground, at some distance, he spoke to me, or I heard a\nvoice so terrible, that it is impossible to express the terror of it.\nAll that I can say I understood was this: \u201cSeeing all these things have\nnot brought thee to repentance, now thou shalt die;\u201d at which words I\nthought he lifted up the spear that was in his hand to kill me.\nNo one that shall ever read this account, will expect that I should\nbe able to describe the horrors of my soul at this terrible vision; I\nmean, that even while it was a dream, I even dreamed of these horrors;\nnor is it any more possible to describe the impression that remained\nupon my mind when I awaked, and found it was but a dream.\nI had, alas! no divine knowledge; what I had received by the good\ninstruction of my father was then worn out, by an uninterrupted series,\nfor eight years, of seafaring wickedness, and a constant conversation\nwith nothing but such as were, like myself, wicked and profane to\nthe last degree. I do not remember that I had, in all that time, one\nthought that so much as tended either to looking upwards toward God,\nor inwards toward a reflection upon my ways; but a certain stupidity\nof soul, without desire of good, or conscience of evil, had entirely\noverwhelmed me; and I was all that the most hardened, unthinking,\nwicked creature among our common sailors can be supposed to be; not\nhaving the least sense, either of the fear of God in danger, or of\nthankfulness to God in deliverances.\nIn the relating what is already past of my story, this will be the more\neasily believed, when I shall add, that through all the variety of\nmiseries that had to this day befallen me, I never had so much as one\nthought of it being the hand of God, or that it was a just punishment\nfor my sin; my rebellious behavior against my father, or my present\nsins, which were great; or so much as a punishment for the general\ncourse of my wicked life. When I was on the desperate expedition on the\ndesert shores of Africa, I never had so much as one thought of what\nwould become of me; or one wish to God to direct me whither I should\ngo; or to keep me from the dangers which apparently surrounded me,\nas well from voracious creatures as cruel savages. But I was merely\nthoughtless of a God or a Providence; acted like a mere brute from the\nprinciples of Nature, and by the dictates of common sense only, and\nindeed hardly that.\nWhen I was delivered and taken up at sea by the Portuguese captain,\nwell used, and dealt justly and honorably with, as well as charitably,\nI had not the least thankfulness in my thoughts. When again I was\nshipwrecked, ruined, and in danger of drowning on this island, I was as\nfar from remorse, or looking on it as a judgment; I only said to myself\noften, that I was an unfortunate dog, and born to be always miserable.\nIt is true, when I got on shore first here, and found all my ship\u2019s\ncrew drowned, and myself spared, I was surprised with a kind of\necstasy, and some transports of soul, which, had the grace of God\nassisted, might have come up to true thankfulness; but it ended where\nit begun, in a mere common flight of joy, or, as I may say, being\nglad I was alive, without the least reflection upon the distinguishing\ngoodness of the hand which had preserved me, and had singled me out\nto be preserved, when all the rest were destroyed; or an inquiry why\nProvidence had been thus merciful to me; even just the same common sort\nof joy which seamen generally have after they are got safe ashore from\na shipwreck, which they drown all in the next bowl of punch, and forget\nalmost as soon as it is over, and all the rest of my life was like it.\nEven when I was afterwards, on due consideration, made sensible of my\ncondition, how I was cast on this dreadful place, out of the reach of\nhuman kind, out of all hope of relief, or prospect of redemption, as\nsoon as I saw but a prospect of living, and that I should not starve\nand perish for hunger, all the sense of my affliction wore off, and\nI began to be very easy, applied myself to the works proper for my\npreservation and supply, and was far enough from being afflicted, at my\ncondition, as a judgment from heaven, or, as the hand of God against\nme; these were thoughts which very seldom entered into my head.\nThe growing up of the corn, as is hinted in my journal, had at first\nsome little influence upon me, and began to affect me with seriousness,\nas long as I thought it had something miraculous in it; but as soon as\never that part of the thought was removed, all the impression which was\nraised from it wore off also, as I have noted already.\nEven the earthquake, though nothing could be more terrible in its\nnature, or more immediately directing to the invisible Power, which\nalone directs such things, yet no sooner was the first fright over, but\nthe impression it had made went off also. I had no more sense of God or\nHis judgments, much less of the present affliction of my circumstances\nbeing from His hand, than if I had been in the most prosperous\ncondition of life.\nBut now, when I began to be sick, and a leisurely view of the miseries\nof death came to place itself before me; when my spirits began to sink\nunder the burden of a strong distemper, and Nature was exhausted with\nthe violence of the fever; conscience, that had slept so long, began to\nawake, and I began to reproach myself with my past life, in which I had\nso evidently, by uncommon wickedness, provoked the justice of God to\nlay me under uncommon strokes, and to deal with me in so vindictive a\nmanner.\nThese reflections oppressed me for the second or third day of my\ndistemper; and in the violence, as well of the fever as of the dreadful\nreproaches of my conscience, extorted some words from me, like praying\nto God, though I cannot say they were either a prayer attended with\ndesires or with hopes; it was rather the voice of mere fright and\ndistress. My thoughts were confused, the convictions great upon my\nmind, and the horror of dying in such a miserable condition, raised\nvapors into my head with the mere apprehensions; and in these hurries\nof my soul, I know not what my tongue might express; but it was rather\nexclamation, such as, \u201cLord! what a miserable creature am I! If I\nshould be sick, I shall certainly die for want of help; and what will\nbecome of me?\u201d Then the tears burst out of my eyes, and I could say no\nmore for a good while.\nIn this interval, the good advice of my father came to my mind, and\npresently his prediction, which I mentioned at the beginning of this\nstory, viz., that if I did take this foolish step, God would not bless\nme, and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected\nhis counsel, when there might be none to assist in my recovery. \u201cNow,\u201d\nsaid I aloud, \u201cmy dear father\u2019s words are come to pass; God\u2019s justice\nhas overtaken me, and I have none to help or hear me. I rejected the\nvoice of Providence, which had mercifully put me in a posture or\nstation of life wherein I might have been happy and easy; but I would\nneither see it myself, or learn to know the blessing of it from my\nparents. I left them to mourn over my folly, and now I am left to mourn\nunder the consequences of it. I refused their help and assistance, who\nwould have lifted me into the world, and would have made everything\neasy to me; and now I have difficulties to struggle with, too great for\neven Nature itself to support, and no assistance, no help, no comfort,\nno advice.\u201d Then I cried out, \u201cLord, be my help, for I am in great\ndistress.\u201d\nThis was the first prayer, if I may call it so, that I had made for\nmany years. But I return to my journal.\nCHAPTER X\n_His Recovery--His Comfort in Reading the Scriptures--He Makes an\nExcursion into the Interior of the Island--Forms His \u201cBower\u201d_\n_June 28._--Having been somewhat refreshed with the sleep I had had,\nand the fit being entirely off, I got up; and though the fright and\nterror of my dream was very great, yet I considered that the fit of\nthe ague would return again the next day, and now was my time to get\nsomething to refresh and support myself when I should be ill. And the\nfirst thing I did I filled a large square case-bottle with water, and\nset it upon my table, in reach of my bed; and to take off the chill or\naguish disposition of the water, I put about a quarter of a pint of rum\ninto it, and mixed them together. Then I got me a piece of the goat\u2019s\nflesh, and broiled it on the coals, but could eat very little. I walked\nabout, but was very weak, and withal very sad and heavy-hearted in the\nsense of my miserable condition, dreading the return of my distemper\nthe next day. At night I made my supper of three of the turtle\u2019s eggs,\nwhich I roasted in the ashes, and eat, as we call it, in the shell; and\nthis was the first bit of meat I had ever asked God\u2019s blessing to, even\nas I could remember, in my whole life.\nAfter I had eaten, I tried to walk, but found myself so weak, that I\ncould hardly carry the gun (for I never went out without that); so I\nwent but a little way, and sat down upon the ground, looking out upon\nthe sea, which was just before me, and very calm and smooth. As I sat\nthere, some such thoughts as these occurred to me.\nWhat is this earth and sea, of which I have seen so much? whence is it\nproduced? And what am I, and all the other creatures, wild and tame,\nhuman and brutal, whence are we? Sure we are all made by some secret\nPower, who formed the earth and sea, the air and sky. And who is that?\nThen it followed most naturally, It is God that has made it all. Well,\nbut then it came on strangely, if God has made all these things, He\nguides and governs them all, and all things that concern them; for the\nPower that could make all things, must certainly have power to guide\nand direct them.\nIf so, nothing can happen in the great circuit of His works, either\nwithout His knowledge or appointment. And if nothing happens without\nHis knowledge, He knows that I am here, and am in this dreadful\ncondition. And if nothing happens without His appointment, He has\nappointed all this to befall me.\nNothing occurred to my thoughts to contradict any of these conclusion;\nand therefore it rested upon me with the greater force, that it must\nneeds be that God had appointed all this to befall me; that I was\nbrought to this miserable circumstance by His direction, He having the\nsole power, not of me only, but of everything that happened in the\nworld. Immediately it followed, Why has God done this to me? What have\nI done to be thus used?\nMy conscience presently checked me in that inquiry, as if I had\nblasphemed, and methought it spoke to me like a voice: \u201cWretch! dost\nthou ask what thou hast done? Look back upon a dreadful misspent life,\nand ask thyself what thou hast not done? Ask, Why is it that thou wert\nnot long ago destroyed? Why wert thou not drowned in Yarmouth Roads;\nkilled in the fight when the ship was taken by the Sallee man-of-war;\ndevoured by the wild beasts on the coast of Africa; or drowned here,\nwhen all the crew perished but thyself? Dost thou ask, What have I\ndone?\u201d\nI was struck dumb with these reflections, as one astonished, and had\nnot a word to say, no, not to answer to myself, but rose up pensive and\nsad, walked back to my retreat, and went up over my wall, as if I had\nbeen going to bed. But my thoughts were sadly disturbed, and I had no\ninclination to sleep; so I sat down in my chair, and lighted my lamp,\nfor it began to be dark. Now, as the apprehension of the return of my\ndistemper terrified me very much, it occurred to my thought that the\nBrazilians take no physic but their tobacco for almost all distempers;\nand I had a piece of a roll of tobacco in one of the chests, which was\nquite cured, and some also that was green, and not quite cured.\nI went, directed by Heaven no doubt; for in this chest I found a cure\nboth for soul and body. I opened the chest, and found what I looked\nfor, viz., the tobacco; and as the few books I had saved lay there too,\nI took out one of the Bibles which I mentioned before, and which to\nthis time I had not found leisure, or so much as inclination, to look\ninto. I say, I took it out, and brought both that and the tobacco with\nme to the table.\nWhat use to make of the tobacco I knew not, as to my distemper, or\nwhether it was good for it or no; but I tried several experiments with\nit, as if I was resolved it should hit one way or other. I first took\na piece of a leaf, and chewed it in my mouth, which indeed at first\nalmost stupefied my brain, the tobacco being green and strong, and that\nI had not been much used to it. Then I took some and steeped it an hour\nor two in some rum, and resolved to take a dose of it when I lay down.\nAnd lastly, I burnt some upon a pan of coals, and held my nose close\nover the smoke of it, as long as I could bear it, as well for the heat,\nas almost for suffocation.\nIn the interval of this operation, I took up the Bible, and began to\nread, but my head was too much disturbed with the tobacco to bear\nreading, at least that time; only having opened the book casually, the\nfirst words that occurred to me were these, \u201cCall on Me in the day of\ntrouble, and I will deliver, and thou shalt glorify Me.\u201d\nThe words were very apt to my case, and made some impression upon my\nthoughts at the time of reading them, though not so much as they did\nafterwards; for as for being delivered, the word had no sound, as I may\nsay, to me, the thing was so remote, so impossible in my apprehension\nof things, that I began to say, as the children of Israel did when they\nwere promised flesh to eat, \u201cCan God spread a table in the wilderness?\u201d\nso I began to say, Can God Himself deliver me from this place? And as\nit was not for many years that any hope appeared, this prevailed very\noften upon my thoughts. But, however, the words made a great impression\nupon me, and I mused upon them very often.\nIt grew now late, and the tobacco had, as I said, dazed my head so\nmuch, that I inclined to sleep; so I left my lamp burning in the cave,\nlest I should want anything in the night, and went to bed. But before\nI lay down, I did what I never had done in all my life; I kneeled\ndown, and prayed to God to fulfil the promise to me, that if I called\nupon Him in the day of trouble, He would deliver me. After my broken\nand imperfect prayer was over, I drank the rum in which I had steeped\nthe tobacco; which was so strong and rank of the tobacco, that indeed\nI could scarce get it down. Immediately upon this I went to bed. I\nfound presently it flew up in my head violently; but I fell into a\nsound sleep, and waked no more till, by the sun, it must necessarily\nbe near three o\u2019clock in the afternoon the next day. Nay, to this hour\nI am partly of the opinion that I slept all the next day and night,\nand till almost three that day after; for otherwise I knew not how I\nshould lose a day out of my reckoning in the days of the week, as it\nappeared some years after I had done. For if I had lost it by crossing\nand re-crossing the line, I should have lost more than one day. But\ncertainly I lost a day in my account, and never knew which way.\nBe that, however, one way or the other, when I awaked I found myself\nexceedingly refreshed, and my spirits lively and cheerful. When I got\nup, I was stronger than I was the day before, and my stomach better,\nfor I was hungry; and, in short, I had no fit the next day, but\ncontinued much altered for the better. This was the 29th.\nThe 30th was my well day, of course, and I went abroad with my gun, but\ndid not care to travel too far. I killed a seafowl or two, something\nlike a brand goose, and brought them home, but was not very forward\nto eat them; so I eat some more of the turtle\u2019s eggs, which were very\ngood. This evening I renewed the medicine, which I had supposed did me\ngood the day before, viz., the tobacco steeped in rum; only I did not\ntake so much as before, nor did I chew any of the leaf, or hold my head\nover the smoke. However, I was not so well the next day, which was the\nfirst of July, as I hoped I should have been; for I had a little spice\nof the cold fit, but it was not much.\n_July 2._--I renewed the medicine all the three ways; and dosed myself\nwith it as at first, and doubled the quantity which I drank.\n_July 3._--I missed the fit for good and all, though I did not recover\nmy full strength for some weeks after. While I was thus gathering\nstrength, my thoughts ran exceedingly upon this Scripture, \u201cI will\ndeliver thee\u201d; and the impossibility of my deliverance lay much upon\nmy mind, in bar of my ever expecting it. But as I was discouraging\nmyself with such thoughts, it occurred to my mind that I pored so\nmuch upon my deliverance from the main affliction, that I disregarded\nthe deliverance I had received; and I was, as it were, made to ask\nmyself such questions as these, viz., Have I not been delivered, and\nwonderfully too, from sickness? from the most distressed condition\nthat could be, and that was so frightful to me? and what notice had I\ntaken of it? Had I done my part? God had delivered me, but I had not\nglorified Him; that is to say, I had not owned and been thankful for\nthat as a deliverance; and how could I expect greater deliverance?\nThis touched my heart very much; and immediately I kneeled down, and\ngave God thanks aloud for my recovery from my sickness.\n_July 4._--In the morning I took the Bible; and beginning at the New\nTestament, I began seriously to read it, and imposed upon myself to\nread awhile every morning and every night, not tying myself to the\nnumber of chapters, but as long as my thoughts should engage me. It was\nnot long after I set seriously to this work, but I found my heart more\ndeeply and sincerely affected with the wickedness of my past life.\n[Illustration: \u201c_In the morning I took the Bible; and beginning at the\nNew Testament, I began seriously to read it--_\u201d]\nThe impression of my dream revived, and the words, \u201cAll these things\nhave not brought thee to repentance\u201d ran seriously in my thought. I\nwas earnestly begging of God to give me repentance, when it happened\nprovidentially, the very day, that, reading the Scripture, I came to\nthese words, \u201cHe is exalted a Prince and a Savior, to give repentance,\nand to give remission.\u201d I threw down the book; and with my heart as\nwell as my hands lifted up to heaven, in a kind of ecstasy of joy, I\ncried out aloud, \u201cJesus, Thou son of David! Jesus, Thou exalted Prince\nand Savior, give me repentance!\u201d\nThis was the first time that I could say, in the true sense of the\nwords, that I prayed in all my life; for now I prayed with a sense\nof my condition, and with a true Scripture view of hope founded on the\nencouragement of the Word of God; and from this time, I may say, I\nbegan to have hope that God would hear me.\nNow I began to construe the words mentioned above, \u201cCall on Me, and\nI will deliver you,\u201d in a different sense from what I had ever done\nbefore; for then I had no notion of anything being called deliverance\nbut my being delivered from the captivity I was in; for though I was\nindeed at large in the place, yet the island was certainly a prison\nto me, and that in the worst sense in the world. But now I learned to\ntake it in another sense; now I looked back upon my past life with\nsuch horror, and my sins appeared so dreadful, that my soul sought\nnothing of God but deliverance from the load of guilt that bore down\nall my comfort. As for my solitary life, it was nothing; I did not so\nmuch as pray to be delivered from it or think of it; it was all of no\nconsideration, in comparison to this. And I add this part here, to hint\nto whoever shall read it, that whenever they come to a true sense of\nthings, they will find deliverance from sin a much greater blessing\nthan deliverance from affliction.\nBut leaving this part, I return to my journal.\nMy condition began now to be, though not less miserable as to my way of\nliving, yet much easier to my mind; and my thoughts being directed, by\na constant reading the Scripture, and praying to God, to things of a\nhigher nature, I had a great deal of comfort within, which, till now, I\nknew nothing of. Also, as my health and strength returned, I bestirred\nmyself to furnish myself with everything that I wanted, and make my\nway of living as regular as I could.\nFrom the 4th of July to the 14th, I was chiefly employed in walking\nabout with my gun in my hand, a little and a little at a time, as a\nman that was gathering up his strength after a fit of sickness; for\nit is hardly to be imagined how low I was, and to what weakness I was\nreduced. The application which I made use of was perfectly new, and\nperhaps what had never cured an ague before; neither can I recommend it\nto any one to practise, by this experiment; and though it did carry off\nthe fit, yet it rather contributed to weakening me; for I had frequent\nconvulsions in my nerves and limbs for some time.\nI learnt from it also this, in particular, that being abroad in the\nrainy season was the most pernicious thing to my health that could\nbe, especially in those rains which came attended with storms and\nhurricanes of wind; for as the rain which came in the dry season was\nalways most accompanied with such storms, so I found that rain was much\nmore dangerous than the rain which fell in September and October.\nI had been now in this unhappy island above ten months; all possibility\nof deliverance from this condition seemed to be entirely taken from\nme; and I firmly believed that no human shape had ever set foot upon\nthat place. Having now secured my habitation, as I thought, fully to\nmy mind, I had a great desire to make a more perfect discovery of the\nisland, and to see what other productions I might find, which I yet\nknew nothing of.\nIt was the 15th of July that I began to take a more particular survey\nof the island itself. I went up the creek first, where, as I hinted, I\nbrought my rafts on shore. I found, after I came about two miles up,\nthat the tide did not flow any higher, and that it was no more than a\nlittle brook of running water, and very fresh and good; but this being\nthe dry season, there was hardly any water in some parts of it, at\nleast, not enough to run in any stream, so as it could be perceived.\nOn the bank of this brook I found many pleasant savannas or meadows,\nplain, smooth, and covered with grass; and on the rising parts of them,\nnext to the higher grounds, where the water, as might be supposed,\nnever overflowed, I found a great deal of tobacco, green, and growing\nto a great and very strong stalk. There were divers other plants, which\nI had no notion of, or understanding about, and might perhaps have\nvirtues of their own, which I could not find out.\nI searched for the cassava root, which the Indians, in all that\nclimate, make their bread of, but I could find none. I saw large plants\nof aloes, but did not then understand them. I saw several sugar-canes,\nbut wild, and, for want of cultivation, imperfect.\nI contented myself with these discoveries for this time, and came back,\nmusing with myself what course I might take to know the virtue and\ngoodness of any of the fruits or plants which I should discover; but\ncould bring it to no conclusion; for, in short, I had made so little\nobservation while I was in the Brazils, that I knew little of the\nplants in the field, at least very little that might serve me to any\npurpose now in my distress.\nThe next day, the 16th, I went up the same way again; and after going\nsomething farther than I had gone the day before, I found the brook and\nthe savannas began to cease, and the country became more woody than\nbefore. In this part I found different fruits, and particularly I found\nmelons upon the ground in great abundance, and grapes upon the trees.\nThe vines had spread indeed over the trees, and the clusters of grapes\nwere just now in their prime, very ripe and rich. This was a surprising\ndiscovery, and I was exceeding glad of them; but I was warned by my\nexperience to eat sparingly of them, remembering that when I was ashore\nin Barbary eating of grapes killed several of our Englishmen, who were\nslaves there, by throwing them into fluxes and fevers. But I found an\nexcellent use for these grapes; and that was, to cure or dry them in\nthe sun, and keep them as dried grapes or raisins are kept, which I\nthought would be, as indeed they were, as wholesome as agreeable to\neat, when no grapes might be to be had.\nI spent all that evening there, and went not back to my habitation;\nwhich, by the way, was the first night, as I might say, I had lain\nfrom home. In the night, I took my first contrivance, and got up into\na tree, where I slept well; and the next morning proceeded upon my\ndiscovery, travelling near four miles, as I might judge by the length\nof the valley, keeping still due north, with a ridge of hills on the\nsouth and north side of me.\nAt the end of this march I came to an opening, where the country seemed\nto descend to the west; and a little spring of fresh water, which\nissued out of the side of the hill by me, ran the other way, that is,\ndue east; and the country appeared so fresh, so green, so flourishing,\neverything being in a constant verdure or flourish of spring, that it\nlooked like a planted garden.\nI descended a little on the side of that delicious vale, surveying it\nwith a secret kind of pleasure, though mixed with my other afflicting\nthoughts, to think that this was all my own; that I was king and lord\nof all this country indefeasibly, and had a right of possession; and,\nif I could convey it, I might have it in inheritance as completely as\nany lord of a manor in England.\nI saw here abundance of cocoa trees, orange, and lemon, and citron\ntrees; but all wild, and very few bearing fruit, at least not then.\nHowever, the green limes that I gathered were not only pleasant to eat,\nbut very wholesome; and I mixed their juice afterwards with water,\nwhich made it very wholesome, and very cool and refreshing.\nI found now I had business enough to gather and carry home; and I\nresolved to lay up a store, as well of grapes as limes and lemons to\nfurnish myself for the wet season, which I knew was approaching.\nIn order to do this, I gathered a great heap of grapes in one place,\nand a lesser heap in another place, and a great parcel of limes and\nlemons in another place; and taking a few of each with me, I travelled\nhomeward; and resolved to come again, and bring a bag or sack, or what\nI could make, to carry the rest home.\nAccordingly, having spent three days in this journey, I came home (so\nI must now call my tent and my cave); but before I got thither, the\ngrapes were spoiled; the richness of the fruits, and the weight of the\njuice, having broken them and bruised them, they were good for little\nor nothing: as to the limes, they were good, but I could bring but a\nfew.\nThe next day, being the 19th, I went back, having made me two small\nbags to bring home my harvest; but I was surprised, when, coming to my\nheap of grapes, which were so rich and fine when I gathered them, I\nfound them all spread about, trod to pieces, and dragged about, some\nhere, some there, and abundance eaten and devoured. By this I concluded\nthere were some wild creatures thereabouts, which had done this; but\nwhat they were, I knew not.\nHowever, as I found that there was no laying them up on heaps, and no\ncarrying them away in a sack, but that one way they would be destroyed,\nand the other way they would be crushed with their own weight, I took\nanother course; for I gathered a large quantity of the grapes, and hung\nthem up upon the out-branches of the trees, that they might cure and\ndry in the sun; and as for the limes and lemons, I carried as many back\nas I could stand under.\nWhen I came home from this journey, I contemplated with great pleasure\nthe fruitfulness of that valley, and the pleasantness of the situation;\nthe security from storms on that side the water and the wood; and\nconcluded that I had pitched upon a place to fix my abode, which\nwas by far the worst part of the country. Upon the whole, I began to\nconsider of removing my habitation, and to look out for a place equally\nsafe as where I now was situate, if possible, in that pleasant fruitful\npart of the island.\nThis thought ran long in my head, and I was exceeding fond of it\nfor some time, the pleasantness of the place tempting me; but when\nI came to a nearer view of it and to consider that I was now by the\nseaside, where it was at least possible that something might happen\nto my advantage, and, by the same ill fate that brought me hither,\nmight bring some other unhappy wretches to the same place; and though\nit was scarce probable that any such thing should ever happen, yet to\nenclose myself among the hills and woods in the centre of the island,\nwas to anticipate my bondage, and to render such an affair not only\nimprobable, but impossible; and that therefore I ought not by any means\nto remove.\nHowever, I was so enamored of this place, that I spent much of my time\nthere for the whole remaining part of the month of July; and, though,\nupon second thoughts, I resolved, as above, not to remove, yet I built\nme a little kind of a bower, and surrounded it at a distance with a\nstrong fence, being a double hedge as high as I could reach, well\nstaked, and filled between with brushwood. And here I lay very secure,\nsometimes two or three nights together, always going over it with a\nladder, as before; so that I fancied now I had my country house and my\nseacoast house; and this work took me up to the beginning of August.\nI had but newly finished my fence, and began to enjoy my labor, but\nthe rains came on, and made me stick close to my first habitation; for\nthough I had made me a tent like the other, with a piece of a sail, and\nspread it very well, yet I had not the shelter of a hill to keep me\nfrom storms, nor a cave behind me to retreat into when the rains were\nextraordinary.\nAbout the beginning of August, as I said, I had finished my bower, and\nbegan to enjoy myself. The 3rd of August, I found the grapes I had hung\nup were perfectly dried, and indeed were excellent good raisins of the\nsun; so I began to take them down from the trees. And it was very happy\nthat I did so, for the rains which followed would have spoiled them,\nand I had lost the best part of my winter food; for I had above two\nhundred large bunches of them. No sooner had I taken them all down, and\ncarried most of them home to my cave, but it began to rain; and from\nhence, which was the 14th of August, it rained, more or less, every day\ntill the middle of October, and sometimes so violently, that I could\nnot stir out of my cave for several days.\nIn this season, I was much surprised with the increase of my family.\nI had been concerned for the loss of one of my cats, who ran away\nfrom me, or, as I thought, had been dead, and I heard no more tale or\ntidings of her, till, to my astonishment, she came home about the end\nof August with three kittens. This was the more strange to me, because,\nthough I had killed a wild cat, as I called it, with my gun, yet I\nthought it was a quite different kind from our European cats; yet the\nyoung cats were the same kind of house-breed like the old one; and both\nmy cats being females, I thought it very strange. But from these three\ncats I afterwards came to be so pestered with cats, that I was forced\nto kill them like vermin, or wild beasts, and to drive them from my\nhouse as much as possible.\nFrom the 14th of August to the 26th, incessant rain, so that I could\nnot stir, and was now very careful not to be much wet. In this\nconfinement, I began to be straitened for food; but venturing out\ntwice, I one day killed a goat, and the last day, which was the 26th,\nfound a very large tortoise, which was a treat to me, and my food was\nregulated thus: I ate a bunch of raisins for my breakfast, a piece of\nthe goat\u2019s flesh, or of the turtle, for my dinner, broiled; for, to my\ngreat misfortune, I had no vessel to boil or stew anything; and two or\nthree of the turtle\u2019s eggs for my supper.\nDuring this confinement in my cover by the rain, I worked daily two or\nthree hours at enlarging my cave, and by degrees worked it on towards\none side, till I came to the outside of the hill, and made a door, or\nway out, which came beyond my fence or wall; and so I came in and out\nthis way. But I was not perfectly easy at lying so open; for as I had\nmanaged myself before, I was in a perfect enclosure; whereas now, I\nthought I lay exposed, and open for anything to come in upon me; and\nyet I could not perceive that there was any living thing to fear, the\nbiggest creature that I had yet seen upon the island being a goat.\n_Sept. 30._--I was now come to the unhappy anniversary of my landing.\nI cast up the notches on my post, and found I had been on shore three\nhundred and sixty-five days. I kept this day as a solemn fast, setting\nit apart to religious exercise, prostrating myself on the ground with\nthe most serious humiliation, confessing my sins to God, acknowledging\nHis righteous judgments upon me, and praying to Him to have mercy on\nme through Jesus Christ; and having not tasted the least refreshment\nfor twelve hours, even till the going down of the sun, I then ate a\nbiscuit-cake and a bunch of grapes, and went to bed, finishing the day\nas I began it.\nI had all this time observed no Sabbath day, for as at first I had no\nsense of religion upon my mind, I had, after some time, omitted to\ndistinguish the weeks, by making a longer notch than ordinary for the\nSabbath day, and so did not really know what any of the days were. But\nnow, having cast up the days, as above, I found I had been there a\nyear, so I divided it into weeks, and set apart every seventh day for a\nSabbath; though I found at the end of my account, I had lost a day or\ntwo in my reckoning.\nA little after this my ink began to fail me, and so I contented myself\nto use it more sparingly, and to write down only the most remarkable\nevents of my life, without continuing a daily memorandum of other\nthings.\nThe rainy season and the dry season began now to appear regular to me,\nand I learned to divide them so as to provide for them accordingly;\nbut I bought all my experience before I had it, and this I am going\nto relate was one of the most discouraging experiments that I made\nat all. I have mentioned that I had saved the few ears of barley and\nrice, which I had so surprisingly found spring up, as I thought, of\nthemselves, and believe there were about thirty stalks of rice, and\nabout twenty of barley; and now I thought it a proper time to sow it\nafter the rains, the sun being in its southern position, going from me.\nAccordingly I dug up a piece of ground as well as I could with my\nwooden spade, and dividing it into two parts, I sowed my grain; but as\nI was sowing, it casually occurred to my thoughts that I would not sow\nit all at first, because I did not know when was the proper time for\nit, so I sowed about two-thirds of the seed, leaving about a handful of\neach.\nIt was a great comfort to me afterwards that I did so, for not one\ngrain of that I sowed this time came to anything, for the dry months\nfollowing, the earth having had no rain after the seed was sown, it had\nno moisture to assist its growth, and never came up at all till the wet\nseason had come again, and then it grew as if it had been but newly\nsown.\nFinding my first seed did not grow, which I easily imagined was by the\ndrought, I sought for a moister piece of ground to make another trial\nin, and I dug up a piece of ground near my new bower, and sowed the\nrest of my seed in February, a little before the vernal equinox. And\nthis having the rainy months of March and April to water it, sprung up\nvery pleasantly, and yielded a very good crop; but having part of the\nseed left only, and not daring to sow all that I had, I had but a small\nquantity at last, my whole crop not amounting to above half a peck of\neach kind. But by this experiment I was made master of my business,\nand knew exactly when the proper season was to sow, and that I might\nexpect two seed-times and two harvests every year.\nWhile this corn was growing, I made a little discovery, which was of\nuse to me afterwards. As soon as the rains were over, and the weather\nbegan to settle, which was about the month of November, I made a visit\nup the country to my bower, where, though I had not been some months,\nyet I found all things just as I left them. The circle or double hedge\nthat I had made was not only firm and entire, but the stakes which I\nhad cut out of some trees that grew thereabouts were all shot out, and\ngrown with long branches, as much as a willow-tree usually shoots the\nfirst year after lopping its head. I could not tell what tree to call\nit that these stakes were cut from. I was surprised, and yet very well\npleased to see the young trees grow, and I pruned them, and led them\nup to grow as much alike as I could. And it is scarce credible how\nbeautiful a figure they grew into in three years; so that though the\nhedge made a circle of about twenty-five yards in diameter, yet the\ntrees, for such I might now call them, soon covered it, and it was a\ncomplete shade, sufficient to lodge under all the dry season.\nThis made me resolve to cut some more stakes, and make me a hedge like\nthis, in a semicircle round my wall (I mean that of my first dwelling),\nwhich I did; and placing the trees or stakes in a double row, at about\neight yards distance from my first fence, they grew presently, and were\nat first a fine cover to my habitation, and afterward served for a\ndefence also, as I shall observe in its order.\nCHAPTER XI\n_Robinson Makes a Tour to Explore His Island--Employed in Basket Making_\nI found now that the seasons of the year might generally be divided,\nnot into summer and winter, as in Europe, but into the rainy seasons\nand the dry seasons. The rainy season sometimes held longer or shorter\nas the winds happened to blow, but this was the general observation\nI made. After I had found by experience the ill consequence of being\nabroad in the rain, I took care to furnish myself with provisions\nbeforehand, that I might not be obliged to go out; and I sat within\ndoors as much as possible during the wet months.\nIn this time I found much employment, and very suitable also to the\ntime, for I found great occasion of many things which I had no way\nto furnish myself with but by hard labor and constant application;\nparticularly, I tried many ways to make myself a basket; but all the\ntwigs I could get for the purpose proved so brittle, that they would\ndo nothing. It proved of excellent advantage to me now, that when I\nwas a boy I used to take great delight in standing at a basket-maker\u2019s\nin the town where my father lived, to see them make their wicker-ware;\nand being, as boys usually are, very officious to help, and a great\nobserver of the manner how they worked those things, and sometimes\nlending a hand, I had by this means full knowledge of the methods of\nit, that I wanted nothing but the materials; when it came into my mind\nthat the twigs of that tree from whence I cut my stakes that grew\nmight possibly be as tough as the sallows, and willows, and osiers in\nEngland, and I resolved to try.\nAccordingly, the next day, I went to my country house, as I called it;\nand cutting some of the smaller twigs, I found them to my purpose as\nmuch as I could desire; whereupon I came the next time prepared with\na hatchet to cut down a quantity, which I soon found, for there was\nplenty of them. These I set up to dry within my circle or hedge, and\nwhen they were fit for use, I carried them to my cave; and here during\nthe next season I employed myself in making, as well as I could, a\ngreat many baskets, both to carry earth, or to lay up anything as I had\noccasion. And though I did not finish them very handsomely, yet I made\nthem sufficiently serviceable for my purpose. And thus, afterwards, I\ntook care never to be without them; and as my wicker-ware decayed, I\nmade more, especially I made strong deep baskets to place my corn in,\ninstead of sacks, when I should come to have any quantity of it.\nHaving mastered this difficulty, and employed a world of time about it,\nI bestirred myself to see, if possible, how to supply two wants. I had\nno vessels to hold anything that was liquid, except two runlets, which\nwere almost full of rum, and some glass bottles, some of the common\nsize, and others which were case-bottles square, for the holding of\nwaters, spirits, etc. I had not so much as a pot to boil anything,\nexcept a great kettle, which I saved out of the ship, and which was\ntoo big for such use as I desired it, viz., to make broth, and stew\na bit of meat by itself. The second thing I would fain have had was\na tobacco-pipe; but it was impossible for me to make one. However, I\nfound a contrivance for that, too, at last.\nI employed myself in planting my second rows of stakes or piles and in\nthis wicker-working all the summer or dry season, when another business\ntook me up more time than it could be imagined I could spare.\nI mentioned before that I had a great mind to see the whole island, and\nthat I had travelled up the brook, and so on to where I built my bower,\nand where I had an opening quite to the sea, on the other side of the\nisland. I now resolved to travel quite across to the seashore on that\nside; so taking my gun, a hatchet, and my dog, and a larger quantity of\npowder and shot than usual, with two biscuit-cakes and a great bunch of\nraisins in my pouch for my store, I began my journey. When I had passed\nthe vale where my bower stood, as above, I came within view of the sea\nto the west; and it being a very clear day, I fairly descried land,\nwhether an island or a continent I could not tell; but it lay very\nhigh, extending from the west to the W.S.W. at a very great distance;\nby my guess, it could not be less than fifteen or twenty leagues off.\nI could not tell what part of the world this might be, otherwise than\nthat I knew it must be part of America, and, as I concluded, by all\nmy observations, must be near the Spanish dominions, and perhaps was\nall inhabited by savages, where, if I should have landed, I had been\nin a worse condition than I was now; and therefore I acquiesced in the\ndispositions of Providence, which I began now to own and to believe\nordered everything for the best. I say, I quieted my mind with this,\nand left afflicting myself with fruitless wishes of being there.\nBesides, after some pause upon this affair, I considered that if this\nland was the Spanish coast, I should certainly, one time or other, see\nsome vessel pass or repass one way or other; but if not, then it was\nthe savage coast between the Spanish country and Brazils, which are\nindeed the worst of savages; for they are cannibals or men-eaters, and\nfail not to murder and devour all the human bodies that fall into their\nhands.\nWith these considerations I walked very leisurely forward. I found that\nside of the island, where I now was, much pleasanter than mine, the\nopen or savanna fields sweet, adorned with flowers and full of very\nfine woods.\nI saw abundance of parrots, and fain I would have caught one, if\npossible, to have kept it to be tame, and taught it to speak to me. I\ndid, after some painstaking, catch a young parrot, for I knocked it\ndown with a stick, and having recovered it, I brought it home; but\nit was some years before I could make him speak. However, at last I\ntaught him to call me by my name very familiarly. But the accident that\nfollowed, though it be a trifle, will be very diverting in its place.\nI was exceedingly diverted with this journey. I found in the low\ngrounds hares, as I thought them to be, and foxes; but they differed\ngreatly from all the other kinds I had met with, nor could I satisfy\nmyself to eat them, though I killed several. But I had no need to be\nventurous, for I had no want of food, and of that which was very good\ntoo; especially these three sorts, viz., goats, pigeons, and turtle,\nor tortoise; which, added to my grapes, Leadenhall Market could not\nhave furnished a table better than I, in proportion to the company.\nAnd though my case was deplorable enough, yet I had great cause for\nthankfulness, and that I was not driven to any extremities for food,\nbut rather plenty, even to dainties.\nI never travelled in this journey above two miles outright in a day,\nor thereabouts; but I took so many turns and returns, to see what\ndiscoveries I could make, that I came weary enough to the place where\nI resolved to sit down for all night; and then I either reposed myself\nin a tree, or surrounded myself with a row of stakes, set upright in\nthe ground, either from one tree to another, or so as no wild creature\ncould come at me without waking me.\nAs soon as I came to the seashore, I was surprised to see that I had\ntaken up my lot on the worst side of the island, for here indeed the\nshore was covered with innumerable turtles; whereas, on the other side,\nI had found but three in a year and a half. Here was also an infinite\nnumber of fowls of many kinds, some which I had seen, and some which\nI had not seen before, and many of them very good meat, but such as I\nknew not the names of except those called penguins.\nI could have shot as many as I pleased, but was very sparing of my\npowder and shot, and therefore had more mind to kill a she-goat, if\nI could, which I could better feed on; and though there were many\ngoats here, more than on my side the island, yet it was with much more\ndifficulty that I could come near them, the country being flat and\neven, and they saw me much sooner than when I was on the hill.\nI confess this side of the country was much pleasanter than mine; but\nyet I had not the least inclination to remove, for as I was fixed in\nmy habitation, it became natural to me, and I seemed all the while I\nwas here to be as it were upon a journey, and from home. However, I\ntravelled along the shore of the sea towards the east, I suppose about\ntwelve miles, and then setting up a great pole upon the shore for a\nmark, I concluded I would go home again; and that the next journey I\ntook should be on the other side of the island, east from my dwelling,\nand so round till I came to my post again; of which in its place.\nI took another way to come back than that I went, thinking I could\neasily keep all the island so much in my view, that I could not miss\nfinding my first dwelling by viewing the country. But I found myself\nmistaken; for being come about two or three miles, I found myself\ndescended into a very large valley, but so surrounded with hills, and\nthose hills covered with wood, that I could not see which was my way by\nany direction but that of the sun, nor even then, unless I knew very\nwell the position of the sun at that time of the day.\nIt happened to my farther misfortune, that the weather proved hazy\nfor three or four days while I was in this valley; and not being able\nto see the sun, I wandered about very uncomfortably, and at last was\nobliged to find out the seaside, look for my post, and come back the\nsame way I went; and then by easy journeys I turned homeward, the\nweather being exceeding hot, and my gun, ammunition, hatchet, and other\nthings very heavy.\nCHAPTER XII\n_He Returns to His Cave--His Agricultural Labors and Success_\nIn this journey my dog surprised a young kid, and seized upon it, and I\nrunning in to take hold of it, caught it, and saved it alive from the\ndog. I had a great mind to bring it home if I could, for I had often\nbeen musing whether it might not be possible to get a kid or two, and\nso raise a breed of tame goats, which might supply me when my powder\nand shot should be all spent.\nI made a collar to this little creature, and with a string, which I\nmade of some rope-yarn, which I always carried about me, I led him\nalong, though with some difficulty, till I came to my bower, and there\nI enclosed him and left him, for I was very impatient to be at home,\nfrom whence I had been absent above a month.\nI cannot express what a satisfaction it was to me to come into my old\nhutch, and lie down in my hammock-bed. This little wandering journey,\nwithout settled place of abode, had been so unpleasant to me, that my\nown house, as I called it to myself, was a perfect settlement to be\ncompared to that; and it rendered everything about me so comfortable,\nthat I resolved I would never go a great way from it again, while it\nshould be my lot to stay on the island.\nI reposed myself here a week, to rest and regale myself after my long\njourney; during which most of the time was taken up in the weighty\naffair of making a cage for my Poll, who began now to be a mere\ndomestic, and to be mighty well acquainted with me. Then I began to\nthink of the poor kid which I had penned in within my little circle,\nand resolved to go and fetch it home, or give it some food. Accordingly\nI went, and found it where I left it, for indeed it could not get out,\nbut almost starved for want of food. I went and cut boughs of trees,\nand branches of such shrubs as I could find, and threw it over, and\nhaving fed it, I tied it as I did before, to lead it away; but it was\nso tame with being hungry, that I had no need to have tied it, for\nit followed me like a dog. And as I continually fed it, the creature\nbecame so loving, so gentle, and so fond, that it became from that time\none of my domestics also, and would never leave me afterwards.\nThe rainy season of the autumnal equinox was now come, and I kept\nthe 30th of September in the same solemn manner as before, being\nthe anniversary of my landing on the island, having now been there\ntwo years, and no more prospect of being delivered than the first\nday I came there. I spent the whole day in humble and thankful\nacknowledgments of the many wonderful mercies which my solitary\ncondition was attended with, and without which it might have been\ninfinitely more miserable. I gave humble and hearty thanks that God\nhad been pleased to discover to me even that it was possible I might\nbe more happy in this solitary condition, than I should have been in\na liberty of society, and in all the pleasures of the world; that He\ncould fully make up to me the deficiencies of my solitary state, and\nthe want of human society, by His presence, and the communications of\nHis grace to my soul, supporting, comforting, and encouraging me to\ndepend upon His providence here, and hope for His eternal presence\nhereafter.\nIt was now that I began sensibly to feel how much more happy this life\nI now led was, with all its miserable circumstances, than the wicked,\ncursed, abominable life I led all the past part of my days. And now\nI changed both my sorrows and my joys; my very desires altered, my\naffections changed their gusts, and my delights were perfectly new from\nwhat they were at my first coming, or indeed for the two years past.\nBefore, as I walked about, either on my hunting, or for viewing the\ncountry, the anguish of my soul at my condition would break out upon\nme on a sudden, and my very heart would die within me, to think of\nthe woods, the mountains, the deserts I was in, and how I was a\nprisoner, locked up with the eternal bars and bolts of the ocean, in\nan uninhabited wilderness, without redemption. In the midst of the\ngreatest composures of my mind, this would break out upon me like a\nstorm, and make me wring my hands, and weep like a child. Sometimes it\nwould take me in the middle of my work, and I would immediately sit\ndown and sigh, and look upon the ground for an hour or two together;\nand this was still worse to me, for if I could burst out into tears, or\nvent myself by words, it would go off, and the grief, having exhausted\nitself, would abate.\nBut now I began to exercise myself with new thoughts. I daily read the\nWord of God, and applied all the comforts of it to my present state.\nOne morning, being very sad, I opened the Bible upon these words,\n\u201cI will never, never leave thee, nor forsake thee.\u201d Immediately it\noccurred that these words were to me; why else should they be directed\nin such a manner, just at the moment when I was mourning over my\ncondition, as one forsaken of God and man? \u201cWell, then,\u201d said I, \u201cif\nGod does not forsake me, of what ill consequence can it be, or what\nmatters it, though the world should all forsake me, seeing on the other\nhand if I had all the world, and should lose the favor and blessing of\nGod, there would be no comparison in the loss?\u201d\nFrom this moment I began to conclude in my mind that it was possible\nfor me to be more happy in this forsaken solitary condition, than it\nwas probable I should ever have been in any other particular state in\nthe world, and with this thought I was going to give thanks to God for\nbringing me to this place.\nI know not what it was, but something shocked my mind at that thought,\nand I durst not speak the words. \u201cHow canst thou be such a hypocrite,\u201d\nsaid I, even audibly, \u201cto pretend to be thankful for a condition which,\nhowever thou mayest endeavor to be contented with, thou wouldest rather\npray heartily to be delivered from?\u201d So I stopped there; but though\nI could not say I thanked God for being there, yet I sincerely gave\nthanks to God for opening my eyes, by whatever afflicting providences,\nto see the former condition of my life, and to mourn for my wickedness,\nand repent. I never opened the Bible, or shut it, but my very soul\nwithin me blessed God for directing my friend in England, without any\norder of mine, to pack it up among my goods, and for assisting me\nafterwards to save it out of the wreck of the ship.\nThus, and in this disposition of mind, I began my third year; and\nthough I have not given the reader the trouble of so particular account\nof my works this year as the first, yet in general it may be observed,\nthat I was very seldom idle, but having regularly divided my time,\naccording to the several daily employments that were before me, such\nas, first, my duty to God, and the reading the Scriptures, which I\nconstantly set apart some time for, thrice every day; secondly, the\ngoing abroad with my gun for food, which generally took me up three\nhours in every morning, when it did not rain; thirdly, the ordering,\ncuring, preserving, and cooking what I had killed or caught for my\nsupply; these took up a great part of the day; also, it is to be\nconsidered that the middle of the day, when the sun was in the zenith,\nthe violence of the heat was too great to stir out; so that about four\nhours in the evening was all the time I could be supposed to work in,\nwith this exception, that sometimes I changed my hours of hunting and\nworking, and went to work in the morning, and abroad with my gun in the\nafternoon.\nTo this short time allowed for labor, I desire may be added the\nexceeding laboriousness of my work; the many hours which, for want of\ntools, want of help, and want of skill, everything I did took up out of\nmy time. For example, I was full two and forty days making me a board\nfor a long shelf, which I wanted in my cave; whereas two sawyers, with\ntheir tools and a saw-pit, would have cut six of them out of the same\ntree in half a day.\nMy case was this: it was to be a large tree which was to be cut down,\nbecause my board was to be a broad one. This tree I was three days\na-cutting down, and two more cutting off the boughs, and reducing it\nto a log, or piece of timber. With inexpressible hacking and hewing,\nI reduced both the sides of it into chips till it begun to be light\nenough to move; then I turned it, and made one side of it smooth and\nflat as a board from end to end; then turning that side downward, cut\nthe other side, till I brought the plank to be about three inches\nthick, and smooth on both sides. Any one may judge the labor of my\nhands in such a piece of work; but labor and patience carried me\nthrough that, and many other things. I only observe this in particular,\nto show the reason why so much of my time went away with so little\nwork, viz., that what might be a little to be done with help and tools\nwas a vast labor and required a prodigious time to do alone, and\nby hand. But notwithstanding this, with patience and labor, I went\nthrough many things, and, indeed, everything that my circumstances made\nnecessary to me to do, as will appear by what follows.\nI was now, in the months of November and December, expecting my crop of\nbarley and rice. The ground I had manured or dug up for them was not\ngreat; for as I observed, my seed of each was not above the quantity of\nhalf a peck; for I had lost one whole crop by sowing in the dry season.\nBut now my crop promised very well, when of a sudden I found I was in\ndanger of losing it all again by enemies of several sorts, which it was\nscarce possible to keep from it; as, first the goats and wild creatures\nwhich I called hares, who, tasting the sweetness of the blade, lay in\nit night and day, as soon as it came up, and ate it so close, that it\ncould get no time to shoot up into stalk.\nThis I saw no remedy for but by making an enclosure about it with a\nhedge, which I did with a great deal of toil, and the more, because it\nrequired speed. However, as my arable land was but small, suited to\nmy crop, I got it totally well fenced in about three weeks\u2019 time, and\nshooting some of the creatures in the daytime, I set my dog to guard it\nin the night, tying him up to a stake at the gate, where he would stand\nand bark all night long; so in a little time the enemies forsook the\nplace, and the corn grew very strong and well, and began to ripen apace.\nBut as the beasts ruined me before while my corn was in the blade, so\nthe birds were as likely to ruin me now when it was in the ear; for\ngoing along by the place to see how it throve, I saw my little crop\nsurrounded with fowls, of I know not how many sorts, who stood, as it\nwere, watching till I should be gone. I immediately let fly among them,\nfor I always had my gun with me. I had no sooner shot, but there rose\nup a little cloud of fowls, which I had not seen at all, from among the\ncorn itself.\nThis touched me sensibly, for I foresaw that in a few days they would\ndevour all my hopes, that I should be starved, and never be able to\nraise a crop at all, and what to do I could not tell. However, I\nresolved not to lose my corn, if possible, though I should watch it\nnight and day. In the first place, I went among it to see what damage\nwas already done, and found they had spoiled a good deal of it; but\nthat as it was yet too green for them, the loss was not so great but\nthat the remainder was like to be a good crop if it could be saved.\nI stayed by it to load my gun, and then coming away, I could easily see\nthe thieves sitting upon all the trees about me, as if they only waited\ntill I was gone away. And the event proved it to be so; for as I walked\noff, as if I was gone, I was no sooner out of their sight but they\ndropped down, one by one, into the corn again. I was so provoked, that\nI could not have patience to stay till more came on, knowing that every\ngrain that they ate now was, as it might be said, a peck-loaf to me in\nthe consequence; but coming up to the hedge, I fired again, and killed\nthree of them. This was what I wished for; so I took them up, and\nserved them as we serve notorious thieves in England, viz., hanged them\nin chains, for a terror to others. It is impossible to imagine almost\nthat this should have such an effect as it had, for the fowls would not\nonly not come at the corn, but, in short, they forsook all that part of\nthe island, and I could never see a bird near the place as long as my\nscarecrows hung there.\nThis I was very glad of, you may be sure; and about the latter end of\nDecember, which was our second harvest of the year, I reaped my crop.\nI was sadly put to it for a scythe or a sickle to cut it down, and\nall I could do was to make one as well as I could out of one of\nthe broadswords, or cutlasses, which I saved among the arms out of\nthe ship. However, as my first crop was but small, I had no great\ndifficulty to cut it down; in short, I reaped it my way, for I cut\nnothing off but the ears, and carried it away in a great basket which\nI had made, and so rubbed it out with my hands; and at the end of all\nmy harvesting, I found that out of my half peck of seed I had near two\nbushels of rice, and above two bushels and a half of barley, that is to\nsay, by my guess, for I had no measure at that time.\nHowever, this was a great encouragement to me, and I foresaw that, in\ntime, it would please God to supply me with bread. And yet here I was\nperplexed again, for I neither knew how to grind or make meal of my\ncorn, or indeed how to clean it and part it; nor, if made into meal,\nhow to make bread of it, and if how to make it, yet I knew not how\nto bake it. These things being added to my desire of having a good\nquantity for store, and to secure a constant supply, I resolved not to\ntaste any of this crop, but to preserve it all for seed against the\nnext season, and, in the meantime, to employ all my study and hours of\nworking to accomplish this great work of providing myself with corn and\nbread.\nIt might be truly said, that now I worked for my bread. \u2019Tis a little\nwonderful, and what I believe few people have thought much upon, viz.,\nthe strange multitude of little things necessary in the providing,\nproducing, curing, dressing, making, and finishing this one article of\nbread.\n[Illustration: \u201c_I reaped it my way, for I cut nothing off but the\nears, and carried it away in a great basket which I had made_\u201d]\nI, that was reduced to a mere state of nature, found this to my daily\ndiscouragement, and was made more and more sensible of it every\nhour, even after I had got the first handful of seed-corn, which, as I\nhave said, came up unexpectedly, and indeed to a surprise.\nFirst, I had no plough to turn up the earth, no spade or shovel to dig\nit. Well, this I conquered by making a wooden spade, as I observed\nbefore, but this did my work in but a wooden manner; and though it\ncost me a great many days to make it, yet, for want of iron, it not\nonly wore out the sooner, but made my work the harder, and made it be\nperformed much worse.\nHowever, this I bore with, and was content to work it out with\npatience, and bear with the badness of the performance. When the corn\nwas sowed, I had no harrow, but was forced to go over it myself, and\ndrag a great heavy bough of a tree over it, to scratch it, as it may be\ncalled, rather than rake or harrow it.\nWhen it was growing and grown, I have observed already how many things\nI wanted to fence it, secure it, mow or reap it, cure and carry it\nhome, thrash, part it from the chaff, and save it. Then I wanted a\nmill to grind it, sieves to dress it, yeast and salt to make it into\nbread, and an oven to bake it, and yet all these things I did without,\nas shall be observed; and yet the corn was an inestimable comfort and\nadvantage to me too. All this, as I said, made everything laborious and\ntedious to me, but that there was no help for; neither was my time so\nmuch loss to me, because, as I had divided it, a certain part of it was\nevery day appointed to these works, and as I resolved to use none of\nthe corn for bread till I had a greater quantity by me, I had the next\nsix months to apply myself wholly, by labor and invention, to furnish\nmyself with utensils proper for the performing all the operations\nnecessary for the making the corn, when I had it, fit for my use.\nCHAPTER XIII\n_His Manufacture of Pottery, and Contrivances for Baking Bread_\nBut first I was to prepare more land, for I had now seed enough to\nsow above an acre of ground. Before I did this, I had a week\u2019s work\nat least to make me a spade, which, when it was done, was but a sorry\none indeed, and very heavy, and required double labor to work with\nit. However, I went through that, and sowed my seed in two large flat\npieces of ground, as near my house as I could find them to my mind,\nand fenced them in with a good hedge, the stakes of which were all cut\nof that wood which I had set before, and knew it would grow; so that\nin one year\u2019s time I knew I should have a quick or living hedge, that\nwould want but little repair. This work was not so little as to take me\nup less than three months, because great part of that time was of the\nwet season, when I could not go abroad.\nWithin doors, that is, when it rained, and I could not go out, I found\nemployment on the following occasions; always observing, that all the\nwhile I was at work, I diverted myself with talking to my parrot, and\nteaching him to speak, and I quickly taught him to know his own name,\nand at last to speak it out pretty loud, \u201cPoll,\u201d which was the first\nword I ever heard spoken in the island by any mouth but my own.\nThis, therefore, was not my work, but an assistant to my work; for\nnow, as I said, I had a great employment upon my hands, as follows,\nviz., I had long studied, by some means or other to make myself some\nearthern vessels, which indeed I wanted sorely, but knew not where to\ncome at them. However, considering the heat of the climate, I did not\ndoubt but if I could find out any such clay, I might botch up some such\npot as might, being dried in the sun, be hard enough and strong enough\nto bear handling, and to hold anything that was dry, and required to be\nkept so; and as this was necessary in the preparing corn, meal, etc.,\nwhich was the thing I was upon, I resolved to make some as large as I\ncould, and fit only to stand jars, to hold what should be put into them.\nIt would make the reader pity me, or rather laugh at me, to tell how\nmany awkward ways I took to raise this paste; what odd, misshapen, ugly\nthings I made; how many of them fell in, and how many fell out, the\nclay not being stiff enough to bear its own weight; how many cracked by\nthe over-violent heat of the sun, being set out too hastily; and how\nmany fell in pieces with only removing, as well before as after they\nwere dried; and, in a word, how, after having labored hard to find the\nclay, to dig it, to temper it, to bring it home, and work it, I could\nnot make above two large earthen ugly things (I cannot call them jars)\nin about two months\u2019 labor.\nHowever, as the sun baked these two very dry and hard, I lifted them\nvery gently up, and set them down again in two great wicker baskets,\nwhich I had made on purpose for them, that they might not break; and\nas between the pot and the basket there was a little room to spare, I\nstuffed it full of the rice and barley straw, and these two pots being\nto stand always dry, I thought would hold my dry corn, and perhaps the\nmeal, when the corn was bruised.\nThough I miscarried so much in my design for large pots, yet I made\nseveral smaller things with better success; such as little round pots,\nflat dishes, pitchers, and pipkins, and any things my hand turned to;\nand the heat of the sun baked them strangely hard. But all this would\nnot answer my end, which was to get an earthen pot to hold what was\nliquid, and bear the fire, which none of these could do. It happened\nafter some time, making a pretty large fire for cooking my meat, when\nI went to put it out after I had done with it, I found a broken piece\nof one of my earthenware vessels in the fire, burnt as hard as a stone,\nand red as a tile. I was agreeably surprised to see it, and said to\nmyself, that certainly they might be made to burn whole, if they would\nburn broken.\nThis set me to studying how to order my fire, so as to make it burn me\nsome pots. I had no notion of a kiln, such as the potters burn in, or\nof glazing them with lead, though I had some lead to do it with; but I\nplaced three large pipkins, and two or three pots in a pile, one upon\nanother, and placed my firewood all around it, with a great heap of\nembers under them. I plied the fire with fresh fuel round the outside,\nand upon the top, till I saw the pots in the inside red-hot quite\nthrough, and observed that they did not crack at all. When I saw them\nclear red, I let them stand in that heart about five or six hours, till\nI found one of them, though it did not crack, did melt or run, for the\nsand which was mixed with the clay melted by the violence of the heat,\nand would have run into glass, if I had gone on; so I slacked my fire\ngradually till the pots began to abate of the red color; and watching\nthem all night, that I might not let the fire abate too fast, in the\nmorning I had three very good, I will not say handsome, pipkins, and\ntwo other earthen pots, as hard burnt as could be desired, and one of\nthem perfectly glazed with the running of the sand.\nAfter this experiment, I need not say that I wanted no sort of\nearthenware for my use; but I must needs say, as to the shapes of them,\nthey were very indifferent, as any one may suppose, when I had no way\nof making them but as the children make dirt pies, or as a woman would\nmake pies that never learned to raise paste.\nNo joy at a thing of so mean a nature was ever equal to mine, when\nI found I had made an earthen pot that would bear fire; and I had\nhardly patience to stay till they were cold, before I set one on the\nfire again, with some water in it, to boil me some meat, which it did\nadmirably well; and with a piece of a kid I made some very good broth,\nthough I wanted oatmeal and several other ingredients requisite to make\nit so good as I would have had it been.\nMy next concern was to get me a stone mortar to stamp or beat some\ncorn in; for as to the mill, there was no thought of arriving to that\nperfection of art with one pair of hands. To supply this want I was\nat a great loss; for, of all trades in the world, I was as perfectly\nunqualified for a stone-cutter as for any whatever; neither had I any\ntools to go about it with. I spent many a day to find out a great stone\nbig enough to cut hollow, and make it fit for a mortar, and could find\nnone at all, except what was in the solid rock, and which I had no way\nto dig or cut out; nor indeed were the rocks in the island of hardness\nsufficient, but were all of a sandy crumbling stone, which neither\nwould bear the weight of a heavy pestle or would break the corn without\nfilling it with sand. So, after a great deal of time lost in searching\nfor a stone, I gave it over, and resolved to look about for a great\nblock of hard wood, which I found indeed much easier; and getting one\nas big as I had strength to stir, I rounded it, and formed it in the\noutside with my axe and hatchet, and then, with the help of fire, and\ninfinite labor, made a hollow place in it, as the Indians in Brazil\nmake their canoes. After this, I made a great heavy pestle or beater,\nof the wood called the iron-wood; and this I prepared and laid by\nagainst I had my next crop of corn, when I proposed to myself to grind,\nor rather pound, my corn into meal, to make my bread.\nMy next difficulty was to make a sieve, or search, to dress my meal,\nand to part it from the bran and the husk, without which I did not see\nit possible I could have any bread. This was a most difficult thing,\nso much as but to think on, for to be sure I had nothing like the\nnecessary thing to make it; I mean fine thin canvas or stuff, to search\nthe meal through.\nAnd here I was at a full stop for many months, nor did I really know\nwhat to do; linen I had none left, but what was mere rags; I had\ngoat\u2019s hair, but neither knew I how to weave it nor spin it; and had I\nknown how, there were no tools to work it with. All the remedy I found\nfor this was, that at last I did remember I had, among the seamen\u2019s\nclothes which were saved out of the ship, some neckcloths of calico or\nmuslin; and with some pieces of these I made three small sieves, but\nproper enough for the work; and thus I made shift for some years. How I\ndid afterwards, I shall show in its place.\nThe baking part was the next thing to be considered, and how I should\nmake bread when I came to have corn; for, first, I had no yeast. As to\nthat part, as there was no supplying the want, so I did not concern\nmyself much about it; but for an oven I was indeed in great pain. At\nlength I found out an experiment for that also, which was this: I made\nsome earthen vessels very broad, but not deep, that is to say, about\ntwo feet diameter, and not above nine inches deep; these I burned in\nthe fire, as I had done the other, and laid them by; and when I wanted\nto bake, I made a great fire upon my hearth, which I had paved with\nsome square tiles, of my own making and burning also; but I should not\ncall them square.\nWhen the firewood was burned pretty much into embers, or live coals,\nI drew them forward upon this hearth, so as to cover it all over, and\nthere I let them lie till the hearth was very hot; then sweeping away\nall the embers, I set down my loaf, or loaves, and whelming down the\nearthen pot upon them, drew the embers all round the outside of the\npot, to keep in and add to the heat. And thus, as well as in the best\noven in the world, I baked my barley-loaves, and became, in little\ntime, a mere pastry-cook into the bargain; for I made myself several\ncakes of the rice, and puddings; indeed I made no pies, neither had\nI anything to put into them, supposing I had, except flesh either of\nfowls or goats.\nIt need not be wondered at, if all these things took me up most part of\nthe third year of my abode here; for it is to be observed, that in the\nintervals of these things I had my new harvest and husbandry to manage;\nfor I reaped my corn in its season, and carried it home as well as I\ncould, and laid it up in the ear, in my large baskets, till I had time\nto rub it out, for I had no floor to thrash it on, or instrument to\nthrash it with.\nAnd now, indeed, my stock of corn increasing, I really wanted to build\nmy barns bigger. I wanted a place to lay it up in, for the increase of\nthe corn now yielded me so much, that I had of the barley about twenty\nbushels, and of the rice as much, or more, insomuch that now I resolved\nto begin to use it freely; for my bread had been quite gone a great\nwhile; also, I resolved to see what quantity would be sufficient for me\na whole year, and to sow but once a year.\nUpon the whole, I found that the forty bushels of barley and rice was\nmuch more than I could consume in a year; so I resolved to sow just the\nsame quantity every year that I sowed the last, in hopes that such a\nquantity would fully provide me with bread, etc.\nCHAPTER XIV\n_Meditates His Escape from the Island--Builds a Canoe--Failure of His\nScheme and Resignation to His Condition--He Makes Himself a New Dress_\nAll the while these things were doing, you may be sure my thoughts ran\nmany times upon the prospect of land which I had seen from the other\nside of the island, and I was not without secret wishes that I were\non shore there, fancying the seeing the mainland, and in an inhabited\ncountry, I might find some way or other to convey myself farther, and\nperhaps at last find some means of escape.\nBut all this while I made no allowance for the dangers of such a\ncondition, and how I might fall into the hands of savages, and perhaps\nsuch as I might have reason to think far worse than the lions and\ntigers of Africa; that if I once came into their power, I should run\na hazard more than a thousand to one of being killed, and perhaps of\nbeing eaten; for I had heard that the people of the Caribbean coasts\nwere cannibals, or man-eaters, and I knew by the latitude that I could\nnot be far off from that shore. Suppose they were not cannibals, yet\nthat they might kill me, as many Europeans who had fallen into their\nhands had been served, even when they had been ten or twenty together,\nmuch more I, that was but one, and could make little or no defence; all\nthese things, I say, which I ought to have considered well of, and did\ncast up in my thoughts afterwards, yet took up none of my apprehensions\nat first, but my head ran mightily upon the thought of getting over to\nthe shore.\nNow I wished for my boy Xury, and the long-boat with the\nshoulder-of-mutton sail, with which I sailed above a thousand miles on\nthe coast of Africa; but this was in vain. Then I thought I would go\nand look at our ship\u2019s boat, which, as I have said, was blown up upon\nthe shore a great way, in the storm, when we were first cast away. She\nlay almost where she did at first, but not quite; and was turned, by\nthe force of the waves and the winds, almost bottom upward, against a\nhigh ridge of beachy rough sand, but no water about her, as before.\nIf I had had hands to have refitted her, and to have launched her into\nthe water, the boat would have done well enough, and I might have gone\nback into the Brazils with her easily enough; but I might have foreseen\nthat I could no more turn her and set her upright upon her bottom, than\nI could remove the island. However, I went to the woods, and cut levers\nand rollers, and brought them to the boat, resolved to try what I could\ndo; suggesting to myself that if I could but turn her down, I might\neasily repair the damage she had received, and she would be a very good\nboat, and I might go to sea in her very easily.\nI spared no pains, indeed, in this piece of fruitless toil, and spent,\nI think, three or four weeks about it. At last finding it impossible to\nheave it up with my little strength, I fell to digging away the sand,\nto undermine it, and so to make it fall down, setting pieces of wood\nto thrust and guide it right in the fall. But when I had done this, I\nwas unable to stir it up again, or to get under it, much less to move\nit forward towards the water; so I was forced to give it over. And yet,\nthough I gave over the hopes of the boat, my desire to venture over for\nthe main increased, rather than decreased, as the means for it seemed\nimpossible.\nThis at length put me upon thinking whether it was not possible to make\nmyself a canoe, or _periagua_, such as the natives of those climates\nmake, even without tools, or, as I might say, without hands, viz.,\nof the trunk of a great tree. This I not only thought possible, but\neasy, and pleased myself extremely with the thoughts of making it, and\nwith my having much more convenience for it than any of the negroes or\nIndians; but not at all considering the particular inconveniences which\nI lay under more than the Indians did, viz., want of hands to move it,\nwhen it was made, into the water, a difficulty much harder for me to\nsurmount than all the consequences of want of tools could be to them.\nFor what was it to me, that when I had chosen a vast tree in the woods,\nI might with much trouble cut it down, if, after I might be able with\nmy tools to hew and dub the outside into the proper shape of a boat,\nand burn or cut out the inside to make it hollow, so to make a boat of\nit; if, after all this, I must leave it just there where I found it,\nand was not able to launch it into the water?\nOne would have thought I could not have had the least reflection upon\nmy mind of my circumstance while I was making this boat, but I should\nhave immediately thought how I should get it into the sea; but my\nthoughts were so intent upon my voyage over the sea in it, that I never\nonce considered how I should get it off of the land; and it was really,\nin its own nature, more easy for me to guide it over forty-five miles\nof sea, than about forty-five fathoms of land, where it lay, to set it\nafloat in the water.\nI went to work upon this boat the most like a fool that ever man did\nwho had any of his senses awake. I pleased myself with the design,\nwithout determining whether I was ever able to undertake it. Not but\nthat the difficulty of launching my boat came often into my head; but I\nput a stop to my own inquiries into it, by this foolish answer which I\ngave myself, \u201cLet\u2019s first make it! I\u2019ll warrant I\u2019ll find some way or\nother to get it along when \u2019tis done.\u201d\nThis was a most preposterous method; but the eagerness of my fancy\nprevailed, and to work I went. I felled a cedar tree: I question much\nwhether Solomon ever had such a one for the building of the Temple\nof Jerusalem. It was five feet ten inches diameter at the lower part\nnext the stump, and four feet eleven inches diameter at the end of\ntwenty-two feet, after which it lessened for awhile, and then parted\ninto branches. It was not without infinite labor that I felled this\ntree. I was twenty days hacking and hewing at it at the bottom; I was\nfourteen more getting the branches and limbs, and the vast spreading\nhead of it cut off, which I hacked and hewed through with axe and\nhatchet, and inexpressible labor. After this, it cost me a month to\nshape it and dub it to a proportion, and to something like the bottom\nof a boat, that it might swim upright as it ought to do. It cost me\nnear three months more to clear the inside, and work it so as to make\nan exact boat of it. This I did, indeed, without fire, by mere mallet\nand chisel, and by the dint of hard labor, till I had brought it to\nbe a very handsome _periagua_ and big enough to have carried six and\ntwenty men, and consequently big enough to have carried me all my cargo.\nWhen I had gone through this work, I was extremely delighted with it.\nThe boat was really much bigger than I ever saw a canoe or _periagua_,\nthat was made of one tree, in my life. Many a weary stroke it had\ncost, you may be sure; and there remained nothing but to get it into\nthe water; and had I gotten it into the water, I made no question but\nI should have begun the maddest voyage, and the most unlikely to be\nperformed, that ever was undertaken.\nBut all my devices to get it into the water failed me, though they cost\nme infinite labor too. It lay about one hundred yards from the water,\nand not more; but the first inconvenience was, it was uphill towards\nthe creek. Well, to take away this discouragement, I resolved to dig\ninto the surface of the earth, and so make a declivity. This I began,\nand it cost me a prodigious deal of pains; but who grudges pains, that\nhave their deliverance in view? But when this was worked through, and\nthis difficulty managed, it was still much at one, for I could no more\nstir the canoe than I could the other boat.\nThen I measured the distance of ground, and resolved to cut a dock or\ncanal, to bring the water up to the canoe, seeing I could not bring the\ncanoe down to the water. Well, I began this work; and when I began to\nenter into it, and calculate how deep it was to be dug, how broad, how\nthe stuff to be thrown out, I found that by the number of hands I had,\nbeing none but my own, it must have been ten or twelve years before\nI should have gone through with it; for the shore lay high, so that\nat the upper end it must have been at least twenty feet deep; so at\nlength, though with great reluctancy, I gave this attempt over also.\nThis grieved me heartily; and now I saw, though too late, the folly of\nbeginning a work before we count the cost, and before we judge rightly\nof our own strength to go through with it.\nIn the middle of this work I finished my fourth year in this place, and\nkept my anniversary with the same devotion, and with as much comfort as\never before; for, by a constant study and serious application of the\nWord of God, and by the assistance of His grace, I gained a different\nknowledge from what I had before. I entertained different notions of\nthings. I looked now upon the world as a thing remote, which I had\nnothing to do with, no expectation from, and, indeed, no desires about.\nIn a word, I had nothing indeed to do with it, nor was ever like to\nhave; so I thought it looked, as we may perhaps look upon it hereafter,\nviz., as a place I had lived in, but was come out of it; and well might\nI say, as father Abraham to Dives, \u201cBetween me and thee is a great gulf\nfixed.\u201d\nIn the first place, I was removed from all the wickedness of the\nworld here. I had neither the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye,\nor the pride of life. I had nothing to covet, for I had all that I\nwas now capable of enjoying. I was lord of the whole manor; or, if I\npleased, I might call myself king or emperor over the whole country\nwhich I had possession of. There were no rivals: I had no competitor,\nnone to dispute sovereignty or command with me. I might have raised\nship-loadings of corn, but I had no use for it; so I let as little\ngrow as I thought enough for my occasion. I had tortoise or turtles\nenough, but now and then one was as much as I could put to any use. I\nhad timber enough to have built a fleet of ships. I had grapes enough\nto have made wine, or to have cured into raisins, to have loaded that\nfleet when they had been built.\nBut all I could make use of was all that was valuable. I had enough\nto eat and to supply my wants, and what was all the rest to me? If I\nkilled more flesh than I could eat, the dog must eat it, or the vermin.\nIf I sowed more corn than I could eat, it must be spoiled. The trees\nthat I cut down were lying to rot on the ground; I could make no more\nuse of them than for fuel, and that I had no occasion for but to dress\nmy food.\nIn a word, the nature and experience of things dictated to me, upon\njust reflection, that all the good things of this world are no farther\ngood to us than they are for our use; and that whatever we may heap\nup indeed to give others, we enjoy just as much as we can use, and no\nmore. The most covetous, gripping miser in the world would have been\ncured of the vice of covetousness, if he had been in my case; for I\npossessed infinitely more than I knew what to do with. I had no room\nfor desire, except it was of things which I had not, and they were\nbut trifles, though indeed of great use to me. I had, as I hinted\nbefore, a parcel of money, as well gold as silver, about thirty-six\npounds sterling. Alas! there the nasty, sorry, useless stuff lay; I\nhad no manner of business for it; and I often thought with myself,\nthat I would have given a handful of it for a gross of tobacco-pipes,\nor for a hand-mill to grind my corn; nay, I would have given it all\nfor six-pennyworth of turnip and carrot seed out of England, or for a\nhandful of peas and beans, and a bottle of ink. As it was, I had not\nthe least advantage by it, or benefit from it; but there it lay in a\ndrawer, and grew moldy with the damp of the cave in the wet season; and\nif I had had the drawer full of diamonds, it had been the same case,\nand they had been of no manner of value to me because of no use.\nI had now brought my state of life to be much easier in itself than\nit was at first, and much easier to my mind, as well as to my body. I\nfrequently sat down to my meat with thankfulness, and admired the hand\nof God\u2019s providence, which had thus spread my table in the wilderness.\nI learned to look more upon the bright side of my condition, and less\nupon the dark side, and to consider what I enjoyed, rather than what\nI wanted; and this gave me sometimes such secret comforts, that I\ncannot express them; and which I take notice of here, to put those\ndiscontented people in mind of it, who cannot enjoy comfortably what\nGod has given them, because they see and covet something that He has\nnot given them. All our discontents about what we want, appeared to me\nto spring from the want of thankfulness for what we have.\nAnother reflection was of great use to me, and doubtless would be so to\nany one that should fall into such distress as mine was; and this was,\nto compare my present condition with what I at first expected it should\nbe; nay, with what it would certainly have been, if the good providence\nof God had not wonderfully ordered the ship to be cast up nearer to the\nshore, where I not only could come at her, but could bring what I got\nout of her to the shore, for my relief and comfort; without which I had\nwanted for tools to work, weapons for defence, or gunpowder and shot\nfor getting my food.\nI spent whole hours, I may say whole days, in representing to myself,\nin the most lively colors, how I must have acted if I had got nothing\nout of the ship. How I could not have so much as got any food, except\nfish and turtles; and that as it was long before I found any of them,\nI must have perished first; that I should have lived, if I had not\nperished, like a mere savage; that if I had killed a goat or a fowl, by\nany contrivance, I had no way to flay or open them, or part the flesh\nfrom the skin and the bowels, or to cut it up; but must gnaw it with my\nteeth, and pull it with my claws, like a beast.\nThese reflections made me very sensible of the goodness of Providence\nto me, and very thankful for my present condition, with all its\nhardships and misfortunes; and this part also I cannot but recommend\nto the reflection of those who are apt, in their misery, to say, Is\nany affliction like mine? Let them consider how much worse the cases\nof some people are, and their case might have been, if Providence had\nthought fit.\nI had another reflection, which assisted me also to comfort my mind\nwith hopes; and this was, comparing my present condition with what\nI had deserved, and had therefore reason to expect from the hand of\nProvidence. I had lived a dreadful life, perfectly destitute of the\nknowledge and fear of God. I had been well instructed by father and\nmother; neither had they been wanting to me in their early endeavors\nto infuse a religious awe of God into my mind, a sense of my duty,\nand of what the nature and end of my being required of me. But alas!\nfalling early into the seafaring life, which, of all the lives, is the\nmost destitute of the fear of God, though His terrors are always before\nthem; I say, falling early into the seafaring life, and into seafaring\ncompany, all that little sense of religion which I had entertained was\nlaughed out of me by my messmates; by a hardened despising of dangers,\nand the views of death, which grew habitual to me; by my long absence\nfrom all manner of opportunities to converse with anything but what was\nlike myself, or to hear anything that was good, or tended towards it.\nSo void was I of everything that was good, or of the least sense of\nwhat I was, or was to be, that in the greatest deliverances I enjoyed,\nsuch as my escape from Sallee; my being taken up by the Portuguese\nmaster of the ship; my being planted so well in the Brazils; my\nreceiving the cargo from England, and the like; I never had once the\nwords, \u201cThank God,\u201d as much as on my mind, or in my mouth; nor in the\ngreatest distress had I so much as a thought to pray to Him, or so much\nas to say, \u201cLord, have mercy upon me!\u201d no, nor to mention the name of\nGod, unless it was to swear by and blaspheme it.\nI had terrible reflections upon my mind for many months, as I have\nalready observed, on the account of my wicked and hardened life past;\nand when I looked about me, and considered what particular providences\nhad attended me since my coming into this place, and how God had dealt\nbountifully with me, had not only punished me less than my iniquity had\ndeserved, but had so plentifully provided for me; this gave me great\nhopes that my repentance was accepted, and that God had yet mercy in\nstore for me.\nWith these reflections, I worked my mind up, not only to resignation\nto the will of God in the present disposition of my circumstances,\nbut even to a sincere thankfulness for my condition; and that I, who\nwas yet a living man, ought not to complain, seeing I had not the due\npunishment of my sins; that I enjoyed so many mercies, which I had\nno reason to have expected in that place; that I ought never more to\nrepine at my condition, but to rejoice, and to give daily thanks for\nthat daily bread, which nothing but a crowd of wonders could have\nbrought; that I ought to consider I had been fed even by miracle, even\nas great as that of feeding Elijah by ravens; nay, by a long series of\nmiracles; and that I could hardly have named a place in the unhabitable\npart of the world where I could have been cast more to my advantage; a\nplace where, as I had no society, which was my affliction on one hand,\nso I found no ravenous beasts, no furious wolves or tigers, to threaten\nmy life; no venomous creatures or poisonous, which I might feed on to\nmy hurt; no savages to murder and devour me.\nIn a word, as my life was a life of sorrow one way, so it was a life\nof mercy another; and I wanted nothing to make it a life of comfort,\nbut to be able to make my sense of God\u2019s goodness to me, and care over\nme in this condition, be my daily consolation; and after I did make a\njust improvement of these things, I went away, and was no more sad.\nI had now been here so long, that many things which I brought on shore\nfor my help were either quite gone, or very much wasted, and near\nspent. My ink, as I observed, had been gone for some time, all but a\nvery little, which I eked out with water, a little and a little, till\nit was so pale it scarce left any appearance of black upon the paper.\nAs long as it lasted, I made use of it to minute down the days of the\nmonth on which any remarkable thing happened to me. And, first, by\ncasting up times past, I remember that there was a strange concurrence\nof days in the various providences which befell me, and which, if I had\nbeen superstitiously inclined to observe days as fatal or fortunate,\nI might have had reason to have looked upon with a great deal of\ncuriosity.\nFirst, I had observed that the same day that I broke away from my\nfather and my friends, and run away to Hull, in order to go to sea, the\nsame day afterwards I was taken by the Sallee man-of-war, and made a\nslave.\nThe same day of the year that I escaped out of the wreck of that ship\nin Yarmouth Roads, that same day-year afterwards I made my escape from\nSallee in the boat.\nThe same day of the year I was born on, viz., the 30th of September,\nthat same day I had my life so miraculously saved twenty-six years\nafter, when I was cast on shore in this island; so that my wicked life\nand my solitary life began both on a day.\nThe next thing to my ink\u2019s being wasted, was that of my bread; I mean\nthe biscuit, which I brought out of the ship. This I had husbanded to\nthe last degree, allowing myself but one cake of bread a day for above\na year; and yet I was quite without bread for near a year before I got\nany corn of my own; and great reason I had to be thankful that I had\nany at all, the getting it being, as has been already observed, next to\nmiraculous.\nMy clothes began to decay, too, mightily. As to linen, I had none a\ngood while, except some checkered shirts which I found in the chests of\nthe other seamen, and which I carefully preserved, because many times\nI could bear no other clothes on but a shirt; and it was a very great\nhelp to me that I had, among all the men\u2019s clothes of the ship, almost\nthree dozen of shirts. There were also several thick watch-coats of the\nseamen\u2019s which were left indeed, but they were too hot to wear; and\nthough it is true that the weather was so violent hot that there was no\nneed of clothes, yet I could not go quite naked, no, though I had been\ninclined to it, which I was not, nor could abide the thoughts of it,\nthough I was all alone.\nThe reason why I could not go quite naked was, I could not bear the\nheat of the sun so well when quite naked as with some clothes on; nay,\nthe very heat frequently blistered my skin; whereas, with a shirt on,\nthe air itself made some motion, and whistling under that shirt, was\ntwofold cooler than without it. No more could I ever bring myself to go\nout in the heat of the sun without a cap or hat. The heat of the sun\nbeating with such violence, as it does in that place, would give me the\nheadache presently, by darting so directly on my head, without a cap or\nhat on, so that I could not bear it; whereas, if I put on my hat, it\nwould presently go away.\nUpon those views, I began to consider about putting the few rags I\nhad, which I called clothes, into some order. I had worn out all the\nwaistcoats I had, and my business was now to try if I could not make\njackets out of the great watch-coats which I had by me, and with such\nother materials as I had; so I set to work a-tailoring, or rather,\nindeed, a-botching, for I made most piteous work of it. However, I made\nshift to make me two or three new waistcoats, which I hoped would serve\nme a great while. As for breeches or drawers, I made but a very sorry\nshift indeed till afterward.\nI have mentioned that I saved the skins of all the creatures that I\nkilled, I mean four-footed ones, and I had hung them up stretched\nout with sticks in the sun, by which means some of them were so dry\nand hard that they were fit for little, but others it seems were\nvery useful. The first thing I made of these was a great cap for my\nhead, with the hair on the outside, to shoot off the rain; and this I\nperformed so well, that after this I made me a suit of clothes wholly\nof these skins, that is to say, a waistcoat, and breeches open at\nknees, and both loose, for they were rather wanting to keep me cool\nthan to keep me warm. I must not omit to acknowledge that they were\nwretchedly made; for if I was a bad carpenter, I was a worse tailor.\nHowever, they were such as I made very good shift with; and when I was\nabroad, if it happened to rain, the hair of my waistcoat and cap being\noutermost, I was kept very dry.\nAfter this I spent a great deal of time and pains to make me an\numbrella. I was indeed in great want of one, and had a great mind to\nmake one. I had seen them made in the Brazils, where they are very\nuseful in the great heats which are there; and I felt the heats every\njot as great here, and greater too, being nearer the equinox. Besides,\nas I was obliged to be much abroad, it was a most useful thing to me,\nas well for the rains as the heats. I took a world of pains at it, and\nwas a great while before I could make anything likely to hold; nay,\nafter I thought I had hit the way, I spoiled two or three before I made\none to my mind; but at last I made one that answered indifferently\nwell. The main difficulty I found was to make it to let down. I could\nmake it to spread; but if it did not let down too, and draw in, it was\nnot portable for me any way but just over my head, which would not\ndo. However, at last, as I said, I made one to answer, and covered\nit with skins, the hair upwards, so that it cast off the rains like\na pent-house, and kept off the sun so effectually, that I would walk\nout in the hottest of the weather with greater advantage than I could\nbefore in the coolest; and when I had no need of it, could close it,\nand carry it under my arm.\nThus I lived mighty comfortably, my mind being entirely composed by\nresigning to the will of God, and throwing myself wholly upon the\ndisposal of His providence. This made my life better than sociable; for\nwhen I began to regret the want of conversation, I would ask myself\nwhether thus conversing mutually with my own thoughts and, as I hope\nI may say, with even God Himself, by ejaculations, was not better than\nthe utmost enjoyment of human society in the world?\nCHAPTER XV\n_He Makes a Smaller Canoe in which He Attempts to Cruise Round the\nIsland--His Perilous Situation at Sea--He Returns Home_\nI cannot say that after this, for five years, any extraordinary thing\nhappened to me; but I lived on in the same course, in the same posture\nand place, just as before. The chief things I was employed in, besides\nmy yearly labor of planting my barley and rice, and curing my raisins,\nof both which I always kept up just enough to have sufficient stock of\none year\u2019s provisions beforehand--and my daily labor of going out with\nmy gun, I had one labor, to make me a canoe, which at last I finished;\nso that by digging a canal to it of six feet wide, and four feet deep,\nI brought it into the creek, almost half a mile. As for the first,\nwhich was so vastly big, as I made it without considering beforehand,\nas I ought to do, how I should be able to launch it; so, never being\nable to bring it to the water, or bring the water to it, I was obliged\nto let it lie where it was, as a memorandum to teach me to be wiser\nnext time. Indeed, the next time, though I could not get a tree proper\nfor it, and in a place where I could not get the water to it at any\nless distance than, as I have said, near half a mile, yet as I saw it\nwas practicable at last, I never gave it over; and though I was near\ntwo years about it, yet I never grudged my labor, in hopes of having a\nboat to go off to sea at last.\nHowever, though my little _periagua_ was finished, yet the size of it\nwas not at all answerable to the design which I had in view when I made\nthe first; I mean, of venturing over to the _terra firma_, where it was\nabove forty miles broad. Accordingly, the smallness of my boat assisted\nto put an end to that design, and now I thought no more of it. But as I\nhad a boat, my next design was to make a tour round the island; for as\nI had been on the other side in one place, crossing, as I have already\ndescribed it, over the land, so the discoveries I made in that little\njourney made me very eager to see other parts of the coast; and now I\nhad a boat, I thought of nothing but sailing round the island.\nFor this purpose, that I might do everything with discretion and\nconsideration, I fitted up a little mast to my boat, and made a sail to\nit out of some of the piece of the ship\u2019s sail, which lay in store, and\nof which I had a great stock by me.\nHaving fitted my mast and sail, and tried the boat, I found she would\nsail very well. Then I made little lockers, or boxes, at either end of\nmy boat, to put provisions, necessaries, and ammunition, etc., into,\nto be kept dry, either from rain or the spray of the sea; and a little\nlong hollow place I cut in the inside of the boat, where I could lay my\ngun, making a flap to hang down over it to keep it dry.\nI fixed my umbrella also in a step at the stern, like a mast, to stand\nover my head, and keep the heat of the sun off of me, like an awning;\nand thus I every now and then took a little voyage upon the sea, but\nnever went far out, nor far from the little creek. But at last, being\neager to view the circumference of my little kingdom, I resolved upon\nmy tour; and accordingly I victualled my ship for the voyage, putting\nin two dozen of my loaves (cakes I should rather call them) of barley\nbread, an earthen pot full of parched rice, a food I ate a great deal\nof, a little bottle of rum, half a goat, and powder and shot for\nkilling more, and two large watch-coats, of those which, as I mentioned\nbefore, I had saved out of the seamen\u2019s chests; these I took, one to\nlie upon, and the other to cover me in the night.\nIt was the 6th of November, in the sixth year of my reign, or my\ncaptivity, which you please, that I set out on this voyage, and I found\nit much longer than I expected; for though the island itself was not\nvery large, yet when I came to the east side of it I found a great\nledge of rocks lie out about two leagues into the sea, some above\nwater, some under it, and beyond that a shoal of sand, lying dry half\na league more; so that I was obliged to go a great way out to sea to\ndouble the point.\nWhen first I discovered them, I was going to give over my enterprise,\nand come back again, not knowing how far it might oblige me to go out\nto sea, and, above all, doubting how I should get back again, so I came\nto an anchor; for I had made me a kind of anchor with a piece of a\nbroken grappling which I got out of the ship.\nHaving secured my boat, I took my gun and went on shore, climbing up\nupon a hill, which seemed to overlook that point, where I saw the full\nextent of it, and resolved to venture.\n[Illustration: \u201c_--and thus I every now and then took a little voyage\nupon the sea_\u201d]\nIn my viewing the sea from that hill, where I stood, I perceived a\nstrong, and indeed a most furious current, which ran to the east,\nand even came close to the point; and I took the more notice of it,\nbecause I saw there might be some danger that when I came into it I\nmight be carried out to sea by the strength of it, and not be able to\nmake the island again. And indeed, had I not gotten first up upon this\nhill, I believe it would have been so; for there was the same current\non the other side of the island, only that it set off at a farther\ndistance; and I saw there was a strong eddy under the shore; so I had\nnothing to do but to get in out of the first current, and I should\npresently be in an eddy.\nI lay here, however, two days; because the wind, blowing pretty fresh\nat E.S.E., and that being just contrary to the said current, made a\ngreat breach of the sea upon the point; so that it was not safe for me\nto keep too close to the shore for the breach, nor to go too far off\nbecause of the stream.\nThe third day, in the morning, the wind having abated overnight, the\nsea was calm, and I ventured. But I am a warning-piece again to all\nrash and ignorant pilots; for no sooner was I come to the point, when\neven I was not my boat\u2019s length from the shore, but I found myself in\na great depth of water, and a current like the sluice of a mill. It\ncarried my boat along with it with such violence, that all I could\ndo could not keep her so much as on the edge of it, but I found it\nhurried me farther and farther out from the eddy, which was on my left\nhand. There was no wind stirring to help me, and all I could do with\nmy paddlers signified nothing. And now I began to give myself over for\nlost; for, as the current was on both sides the island, I knew in a few\nleagues\u2019 distance they must join again, and then I was irrevocably\ngone. Nor did I see any possibility of avoiding it; so that I had no\nprospect before me but of perishing; not by the sea, for that was calm\nenough, but of starving for hunger. I had indeed found a tortoise on\nthe shore, as big almost as I could lift, and had tossed it into the\nboat; and I had a great jar of fresh water, that is to say, one of\nmy earthen pots; but what was all this to being driven into the vast\nocean, where, to be sure, there was no shore, no mainland or island,\nfor a thousand leagues at least.\nAnd now I saw how easy it was for the providence of God to make the\nmost miserable condition mankind could be in worse. Now I looked\nback upon my desolate solitary island as the most pleasant place in\nthe world, and all the happiness my heart could wish for was to be\nbut there again. I stretched out my hands to it, with eager wishes.\n\u201cO happy desert!\u201d said I, \u201cI shall never see thee more. O miserable\ncreature,\u201d said I, \u201cwhither am I going?\u201d Then I reproached myself with\nmy unthankful temper, and how I had repined at my solitary condition;\nand now what would I give to be on shore there again. Thus we never see\nthe true state of our condition till it is illustrated to us by its\ncontraries; nor know how to value what we enjoy, but by the want of it.\nIt is scarce possible to imagine the consternation I was now in, being\ndriven from my beloved island (for so it appeared to me now to be) into\nthe wide ocean, almost two leagues, and in the utmost despair of ever\nrecovering it again. However, I worked hard, till indeed my strength\nwas almost exhausted, and kept my boat as much to the northward, that\nis, towards the side of the current which the eddy lay on, as possibly\nI could; when about noon, as the sun passed the meridian, I thought I\nfelt a little breeze of wind in my face, springing up from the S.S.E.\nThis cheered my heart a little, and especially when, in about half\nan hour more, it blew a pretty small gentle gale. By this time I was\ngotten at a frightful distance from the island; and had the least\ncloud or hazy weather intervened, I had been undone another way too;\nfor I had no compass on board, and should never have known how to have\nsteered towards the island if I had but once lost sight of it. But the\nweather continuing clear, I applied myself to get up my mast again, and\nspread my sail, standing away to the north as much as possible, to get\nout of the current.\nJust as I had set my mast and sail, and the boat began to stretch away,\nI saw even by the clearness of the water some alteration of the current\nwas near; for where the current was so strong, the water was foul. But\nperceiving the water clear, I found the current abate, and presently I\nfound to the east, at about half a mile, a breach of the sea upon some\nrocks. These rocks I found caused the current to part again; and as the\nmain stress of it ran away more southerly, leaving the rocks to the\nnorth-east, so the other returned by the repulse of the rocks, and made\na strong eddy, which ran back again to the north-west with a very sharp\nstream.\nThey who know what it is to have a reprieve brought to them upon the\nladder, or to be rescued from thieves just going to murder them, or\nwho have been in such like extremities, may guess what my present\nsurprise of joy was, and how gladly I put my boat into the stream of\nthis eddy; and the wind also freshening, how gladly I spread my sail to\nit, running cheerfully before the wind, and with a strong tide or eddy\nunder foot.\nThis eddy carried me about a league in my way back again, directly\ntowards the island, but about two leagues more to the northward than\nthe current which carried me away at first; so that when I came near\nthe island, I found myself open to the northern shore of it, that is\nto say, the outer end of the island, opposite to that which I went out\nfrom.\nWhen I had made something more than a league of way by the help of\nthis current or eddy, I found it was spent, and served me no farther.\nHowever, I found that being between the two great currents, viz., that\non the south side, which had hurried me away, and that on the north,\nwhich lay about a league on the other side; I say, between these two,\nin the wake of the island, I found the water at least still, and\nrunning no way; and having still a breeze of wind fair for me, I kept\non steering directly for the island, though not making such fresh way\nas I did before.\nAbout four o\u2019clock in the evening, being then within about a league\nof the island, I found the point of the rocks which occasioned this\ndisaster stretching out, as is described before, to the southward, and\ncasting off the current more southwardly had, of course, made another\neddy to the north, and this I found very strong, but not directly\nsetting the way my course lay, which was due west, but almost full\nnorth. However, having a fresh gale, I stretched across this eddy,\nslanting north-west; and in about an hour came within about a mile of\nthe shore, where, it being smooth water, I soon got to land.\nWhen I was on shore, I fell on my knees, and gave God thanks for my\ndeliverance, resolving to lay aside all thoughts of my deliverance by\nmy boat; and refreshing myself with such things as I had, I brought my\nboat close to the shore, in a little cove that I had spied under some\ntrees, and laid me down to sleep, being quite spent with the labor and\nfatigue of the voyage.\nI was now at a great loss which way to get home with my boat. I had run\nso much hazard, and knew too much the case, to think of attempting it\nby the way I went out; and what might be at the other side (I mean the\nwest side) I knew not, nor had I any mind to run any more ventures. So\nI only resolved in the morning to make my way westward along the shore,\nand to see if there was no creek where I might lay up my frigate in\nsafety, so as to have her again if I wanted her. In about three miles,\nor thereabouts, coasting the shore, I came to a very good inlet or bay,\nabout a mile over, which narrowed till it came to a very little rivulet\nor brook, where I found a very convenient harbor for my boat, and where\nshe lay as if she had been in a little dock made on purpose for her.\nHere I put in, and having stowed my boat very safe, I went on shore to\nlook about me, and see where I was.\nI soon found I had but a little passed by the place where I had been\nbefore, when I travelled on foot to that shore; so taking nothing out\nof my boat but my gun and my umbrella, for it was exceedingly hot, I\nbegan my march. The way was comfortable enough after such a voyage as I\nhad been upon, and I reached my old bower in the evening, where I found\neverything standing as I left it; for I always kept it in good order,\nbeing, as I said before, my country house.\nI got over the fence, and laid me down in the shade to rest my limbs,\nfor I was very weary, and fell asleep. But judge you, if you can, that\nread my story, what a surprise I must be in, when I was waked out of my\nsleep by a voice calling me by my name several times, \u201cRobin, Robin,\nRobin Crusoe, poor Robin Crusoe! Where are you, Robin Crusoe? Where are\nyou? Where have you been?\u201d\nI was so dead asleep at first, being fatigued with rowing, or paddling,\nas it is called, the first part of the day, and with walking the latter\npart, that I did not wake thoroughly; but dozing between sleeping\nand waking, thought I dreamed that somebody spoke to me. But as the\nvoice continued to repeat \u201cRobin Crusoe, Robin Crusoe,\u201d at last I\nbegan to wake more perfectly, and was at first dreadfully frightened,\nand started up in the utmost consternation. But no sooner were my\neyes open, but I saw my Poll sitting on the top of the hedge, and\nimmediately knew that it was he that spoke to me; for just in such\nbemoaning language I had used to talk to him, and teach him; and he\nhad learned it so perfectly, that he would sit upon my finger, and\nlay his bill close to my face, and cry, \u201cPoor Robin Crusoe! Where are\nyou? Where have you been? How come you here?\u201d and such things as I had\ntaught him.\nHowever, even though I knew it was the parrot, and that indeed it\ncould be nobody else, it was a good while before I could compose\nmyself. First, I was amazed how the creature got thither, and then, how\nhe should just keep about the place, and nowhere else. But as I was\nwell satisfied it could be nobody but honest Poll, I got it over; and\nholding out my hand, and calling him by his name, Poll, the sociable\ncreature, came to me, and sat upon my thumb, as he used to do, and\ncontinued talking to me, \u201cPoor Robin Crusoe! and how did I come here?\nand where had I been?\u201d just as if he had been overjoyed to see me\nagain; and so I carried him home along with me.\nI had now had enough of rambling to sea for some time, and had enough\nto do for many days to sit still, and reflect upon the danger I had\nbeen in. I would have been very glad to have had my boat again on my\nside of the island; but I knew not how it was practicable to get it\nabout. As to the east side of the island, which I had gone round, I\nknew well enough there was no venturing that way; my very heart would\nshrink, and my very blood run chill, but to think of it. And as to the\nother side of the island, I did not know how it might be there; but\nsupposing the current ran with the same force against the shore at\nthe east as it passed by it on the other, I might run the same risk\nof being driven down the stream, and carried by the island, as I had\nbeen before of being carried away from it. So, with these thoughts, I\ncontented myself to be without any boat, though it had been the product\nof so many months\u2019 labor to make it and of so many more to get it unto\nthe sea.\nIn this government of my temper I remained near a year, lived a very\nsedate, retired life, as you may well suppose; and my thoughts being\nvery much composed as to my condition, and fully comforted in resigning\nmyself to the dispositions of Providence, I thought I lived really very\nhappily in all things, except that of society.\nI improved myself in this time in all the mechanic exercises which my\nnecessities put me upon applying myself to, and I believe could, upon\noccasion, make a very good carpenter, especially considering how few\ntools I had. Besides this, I arrived at an unexpected perfection in\nmy earthenware, and contrived well enough to make them with a wheel,\nwhich I found infinitely easier and better, because I made things round\nand shapable which before were filthy things indeed to look on. But I\nthink I was never more vain of my own performance, or more joyful for\nanything found out, than for my being able to make a tobacco-pipe. And\nthough it was a very ugly, clumsy thing when it was done, and only\nburnt red, like other earthenware, yet as it was hard and firm, and\nwould draw the smoke, I was exceedingly comforted with it; for I had\nbeen always used to smoke, and there were pipes in the ship, but I\nforgot them at first, not knowing that there was tobacco in the island;\nand afterwards, when I searched the ship again, I could not come at any\npipes at all.\nIn my wicker-ware also I improved much, and made abundance of necessary\nbaskets, as well as my invention showed me; though not very handsome,\nyet they were such as were very handy and convenient for my laying\nthings up in, or fetching things home in. For example, if I killed a\ngoat abroad, I could hang it up in a tree, flay it, and dress it, and\ncut it in pieces, and bring it home in a basket; and the like by a\nturtle; I could cut it up, take out the eggs, and a piece or two of the\nflesh, which was enough for me, and bring them home in a basket, and\nleave the rest behind me. Also large deep baskets were my receivers for\nmy corn, which I always rubbed out as soon as it was dry, and cured,\nand kept it in great baskets.\nI began now to perceive my powder abated considerably, and this was a\nwant which it was impossible for me to supply, and I began seriously to\nconsider what I must do when I should have no more powder; that is to\nsay, how I should do to kill any goats. I had, as is observed, in the\nthird year of my being here kept a young kid, and bred her up tame, and\nI was in hope of getting a he-goat. But I could not by any means bring\nit to pass, till my kid grew an old goat; and I could never find in my\nheart to kill her, till she died at last of mere age.\nCHAPTER XVI\n_He Rears a Flock of Goats--His Diary--His Domestic Habits and Style of\nLiving--Increasing Prosperity_\nBut being now in the eleventh year of my residence, and as I have said,\nmy ammunition growing low, I set myself to study some art to trap and\nsnare the goats, to see whether I could not catch some of them alive;\nand particularly, I wanted a she-goat great with young.\nTo this purpose, I made snares to hamper them, and I do believe they\nwere more than once taken in them; but my tackle was not good, for I\nhad no wire, and I always found them broken, and my bait devoured. At\nlength I resolved to try a pitfall; so I dug several large pits in the\nearth, in places where I had observed the goats used to feed, and over\nthese pits I placed hurdles, of my own making too, with a great weight\nupon them; and several times I put ears of barley and dry rice, without\nsetting the trap, and I could easily perceive that the goats had gone\nin and eaten up the corn, for I could see the mark of their feet. At\nlength I set three traps in one night, and going the next morning, I\nfound them all standing, and yet the bait eaten and gone; this was very\ndiscouraging. However, I altered my trap; and, not to trouble you with\nparticulars, going one morning to see my trap, I found in one of them a\nlarge old he-goat, and in one of the others three kids, a male and two\nfemales.\nAs to the old one, I knew not what to do with him, he was so fierce I\ndurst not go into the pit to him; that is to say, to go about to bring\nhim away alive, which was what I wanted. I could have killed him, but\nthat was not my business, nor would it answer my end; so I even let him\nout, and he ran away, as if he had been frightened out of his wits. But\nI had forgotten then what I learned afterwards, that hunger will tame\na lion. If I had let him stay there three or four days without food,\nand then have carried him some water to drink, and then a little corn,\nhe would have been as tame as one of the kids, for they are mighty\nsagacious, tractable creatures where they are well used.\nHowever, for the present I let him go, knowing no better at that time.\nThen I went to the three kids, and taking them one by one, I tied them\nwith strings together, and with some difficulty brought them all home.\nIt was a good while before they would feed, but throwing them some\nsweet corn, it tempted them, and they began to be tame. And now I\nfound that if I expected to supply myself with goat-flesh when I had\nno powder or shot left, breeding some up tame was my only way, when\nperhaps I might have them about my house like a flock of sheep.\nBut then it presently occurred to me that I must keep the tame from\nthe wild, or else they would always run wild when they grew up; and\nthe only way for this was to have some enclosed piece of ground, well\nfenced either with hedge or pale, to keep them in so effectually, that\nthose within might not break out, or those without break in.\nThis was a great undertaking for one pair of hands; yet as I saw there\nwas an absolute necessity of doing it, my first piece of work was to\nfind out a proper piece of ground, viz., where there was likely to be\nherbage for them to eat, water for them to drink, and cover to keep\nthem from the sun.\nThose who understand such enclosures will think I had very little\ncontrivance when I pitched upon a place very proper for all these,\nbeing a plain open piece of meadow land, or savanna (as our people\ncall it in the western colonies), which had two or three little drills\nof fresh water in it, and at one end was very woody; I say, they will\nsmile at my forecast, when I shall tell them I began my enclosing of\nthis piece of ground in such a manner, that my hedge or pale must have\nbeen at least two miles about. Nor was the madness of it so great as\nto the compass, for if it was ten miles about, I was like to have time\nenough to do it in. But I did not consider that my goats would be as\nwild in so much compass as if they had had the whole island, and I\nshould have so much room to chase them in, that I should never catch\nthem.\nMy hedge was begun and carried on, I believe, about fifty yards, when\nthis thought occurred to me, so I presently stopped short, and, for the\nfirst beginning, I resolved to enclose a piece of about 150 yards in\nlength, and 100 yards in breadth; which, as it would maintain as many\nas I should have in any reasonable time, so, as my flock increased, I\ncould add more ground to my enclosure.\nThis was acting with some prudence, and I went to work with courage.\nI was about three months hedging in the first piece, and, till I had\ndone it, I tethered the three kids in the best part of it, and used\nthem to feed as near me as possible, to make them familiar; and very\noften I would go and carry them some ears of barley, or a handful of\nrice, and feed them out of my hand; so that after my enclosure was\nfinished, and I let them loose, they would follow me up and down,\nbleating after me for a handful of corn.\nThis answered my end, and in about a year and half I had a flock of\nabout twelve goats, kids and all; and in two years more I had three and\nforty, besides several that I took and killed for my food. And after\nthat I enclosed five several pieces of ground to feed them in, with\nlittle pens to drive them into, to take them as I wanted, and gates out\nof one piece of ground into another.\nBut this was not all, for now I not only had goat\u2019s flesh to feed on\nwhen I pleased, but milk too, a thing which, indeed, in my beginning, I\ndid not so much as think of, and which, when it came into my thoughts,\nwas really an agreeable surprise. For now I set up my dairy, and had\nsometimes a gallon or two of milk in a day; and as Nature, who gives\nsupplies of food to every creature, dictates even naturally how to make\nuse of it, so I, that had never milked a cow, much less a goat, or seen\nbutter or cheese made, very readily and handily, though after a great\nmany essays and miscarriages, made me both butter and cheese at last,\nand never wanted it afterwards.\nHow mercifully can our great Creator treat His creatures, even in those\nconditions in which they seemed to be overwhelmed in destruction! How\ncan He sweeten the bitterest providences, and give us cause to praise\nHim for dungeons and prisons! What a table was here spread for me in a\nwilderness, where I saw nothing at first but to perish for hunger!\nIt would have made a stoic smile, to have seen me and my little family\nsit down to dinner. There was my majesty, the prince and lord of\nthe whole island; I had the lives of all my subjects at my absolute\ncommand. I could hang, draw, give liberty, and take it away; and no\nrebels among all my subjects.\nThen to see how like a king I dined, too, all alone, attended by my\nservants. Poll, as if he had been my favorite, was the only person\npermitted to talk to me. My dog, who was now grown very old and crazy,\nand had found no species to multiply his kind upon, sat always at my\nright hand, and two cats, one on one side the table, and one on the\nother, expecting now and then a bit from my hand, as a mark of special\nfavor.\nBut these were not the two cats which I brought on shore at first, for\nthey were both of them dead, and had been interred near my habitation,\nby my own hand. But one of them having multiplied by I know not what\nkind of creature, these were two which I had preserved tame, whereas\nthe rest ran wild in the woods, and became indeed troublesome to me\nat last; for they would often come into my house, and plunder me too,\ntill at last I was obliged to shoot them, and did kill a great many;\nat length they left me. With this attendance, and in this plentiful\nmanner, I lived; neither could I be said to want anything but society;\nand of that in some time after this, I was like to have too much.\nI was something impatient, as I have observed, to have the use of my\nboat, though very loth to run any more hazards; and therefore sometimes\nI sat contriving ways to get her about the island, and at other times\nI sat myself down contented enough without her. But I had a strange\nuneasiness in my mind to go down to the point of the island, where, as\nI have said, in my last ramble, I went up the hill to see how the shore\nlay, and how the current set, that I might see what I had to do. This\ninclination increased upon me every day, and at length I resolved to\ntravel thither by land, following the edge of the shore. I did so; but\nhad any one in England been to meet such a man as I was, it must either\nhave frightened them, or raised a great deal of laughter; and as I\nfrequently stood still to look at myself, I could not but smile at the\nnotion of my travelling through Yorkshire, with such an equipage, and\nin such a dress. Be pleased to take a sketch of my figure, as follows:\nI had a great high shapeless cap, made of a goat\u2019s skin, with a flap\nhanging down behind, as well to keep the sun from me, as to shoot the\nrain off from running into my neck; nothing being so hurtful in these\nclimates as the rain upon the flesh, under the clothes.\nI had a short jacket of goat\u2019s skin, the skirts coming down to about\nthe middle of my thighs; and a pair of open-kneed breeches of the same.\nThe breeches were made of the skin of an old he-goat, whose hair hung\ndown such a length on either side, that, like pantaloons, it reached to\nthe middle of my legs. Stockings and shoes I had none, but had made me\na pair of somethings, I scarce know what to call them, like buskins, to\nflap over my legs, and lace on either side like spatterdashes; but of\na most barbarous shape, as indeed were all the rest of my clothes.\nI had on a broad belt of goat\u2019s skin dried, which I drew together with\ntwo thongs of the same, instead of buckles; and in a kind of a frog on\neither side of this, instead of a sword and a dagger, hung a little\nsaw and a hatchet, one on one side, one on the other. I had another\nbelt, not so broad, and fastened in the same manner, which hung over my\nshoulder; and at the end of it, under my left arm, hung two pouches,\nboth made of goat\u2019s skin too; in one of which hung my powder, in the\nother my shot. At my back I carried my basket, on my shoulder my gun,\nand over my head a great clumsy ugly goat-skin umbrella, but which,\nafter all, was the most necessary thing I had about me, next to my\ngun. As for my face, the color of it was really not so mulatto-like\nas one might expect from a man not at all careful of it, and living\nwithin nineteen degrees of the equinox. My beard I had once suffered\nto grow till it was about a quarter of a yard long; but as I had both\nscissors and razors sufficient, I had cut it pretty short, except\nwhat grew on my upper lip, which I had trimmed into a large pair of\nMahometan whiskers, such as I had seen worn by some Turks whom I saw at\nSallee; for the Moors did not wear such, though the Turks did. Of these\nmustachios or whiskers, I will not say they were long enough to hang my\nhat upon them, but they were of a length and shape monstrous enough,\nand such as, in England, would have passed for frightful.\nBut all this is by the bye; for, as to my figure, I had so few to\nobserve me, that it was of no manner of consequence; so I say no more\nto that part. In this kind of figure I went my new journey, and was\nout five or six days. I travelled first along the sea-shore, directly\nto the place where I first brought my boat to an anchor, to get up\nupon the rocks. And having no boat now to take care of, I went over\nthe land, a nearer way, to the same height that I was upon before;\nwhen, looking forward to the point of the rocks which lay out, and\nwhich I was obliged to double with my boat, as is said above, I was\nsurprised to see the sea all smooth and quiet, no rippling, no motion,\nno current, any more there than in other places.\nI was at a strange loss to understand this, and resolved to spend some\ntime in the observing it, to see if nothing from the sets of the tide\nhad occasioned it. But I was presently convinced how it was, viz., that\nthe tide of ebb setting from the west, and joining with the current of\nwaters from some great river on the shore, must be the occasion of this\ncurrent; and that according as the wind blew more forcibly from the\nwest, or from the north, this current came near, or went farther from\nthe shore; for waiting thereabouts till evening, I went up to the rock\nagain, and then the tide of ebb being made, I plainly saw the current\nagain as before, only that it ran farther off, being near half a league\nfrom the shore; whereas in my case it set close upon the shore, and\nhurried me and my canoe along with it, which, at another time, it would\nnot have done.\nThis observation convinced me that I had nothing to do but to observe\nthe ebbing and the flowing of the tide, and I might very easily bring\nmy boat about the island again. But when I began to think of putting it\nin practice, I had such a terror upon my spirits at the remembrance\nof the danger I had been in, that I could not think of it again with\nany patience; but, on the contrary, I took up another resolution, which\nwas more safe, though more laborious; and this was, that I would build,\nor rather make me another _periagua_ or canoe; and so have one for one\nside of the island, and one for the other.\nYou are to understand that now I had, as I may call it, two plantations\nin the island; one, my little fortification or tent, with the wall\nabout it, under the rock, with the cave behind me, which, by this time,\nI had enlarged into several apartments or caves, one within another.\nOne of these, which was the driest and largest, and had a door out\nbeyond my wall or fortification, that is to say, beyond where my wall\njoined to the rock, was all filled up with the large earthen pots,\nof which I have given an account, and with fourteen or fifteen great\nbaskets, which would hold five or six bushels each, where I laid up my\nstores of provision, especially my corn, some in the ear, cut off short\nfrom the straw, and the other rubbed out with my hand.\nAs for my wall, made, as before, with long stakes or piles, those piles\ngrew all like trees, and were by this time grown so big, and spread so\nvery much, that there was not the least appearance, to any one\u2019s view,\nof any habitation behind them.\nNear this dwelling of mine, but a little farther within the land, and\nupon lower ground, lay my two pieces of corn ground, which I kept duly\ncultivated and sowed, and which duly yielded me their harvest in its\nseason; and whenever I had occasion for more corn, I had more land\nadjoining as fit as that.\nBesides this, I had my country seat, and I had now a tolerable\nplantation there also; for, first, I had my little bower, as I called\nit, which I kept in repair; that is to say, I kept the hedge which\ncircled it in constantly fitted up to its usual height, the ladder\nstanding always in the inside. I kept the trees, which at first were no\nmore than my stakes, but were now grown very firm and tall, I kept them\nalways so cut, that they might spread and grow thick and wild, and make\nthe more agreeable shade, which they did effectually to my mind. In the\nmiddle of this, I had my tent always standing, being a piece of a sail,\nspread over poles, set up for that purpose, and which never wanted any\nrepair or renewing; and under this I had made me a squab or couch, with\nthe skins of the creatures I had killed, and with other soft things,\nand a blanket laid on them, such as belonged to our sea-bedding, which\nI had saved, and a great watch-coat to cover me; and here, whenever\nI had occasion to be absent from my chief seat, I took up my country\nhabitation.\nAdjoining to this I had my enclosures for my cattle, that is to say, my\ngoats. And as I had taken an inconceivable deal of pains to fence and\nenclose this ground, so I was so uneasy to see it kept entire, lest the\ngoats should break through, that I never left off till, with infinite\nlabor, I had stuck the outside of the hedge so full of small stakes,\nand so near to one another, that it was rather a pale than a hedge,\nand there was scarce room to put a hand through between them; which\nafterwards, when those stakes grew, as they all did in the next rainy\nseason, made the enclosure strong like a wall, indeed, stronger than\nany wall.\nThis will testify for me that I was not idle, and that I spared no\npains to bring to pass whatever appeared necessary for my comfortable\nsupport; for I considered the keeping up a breed of tame creatures\nthus at my hand would be a living magazine of flesh, milk, butter,\nand cheese for me as long as I lived in the place, if it were to be\nforty years; and that keeping them in my reach depended entirely upon\nmy perfecting my enclosures to such a degree, that I might be sure of\nkeeping them together; which, by this method, indeed, I so effectually\nsecured, that when these little stakes began to grow, I had planted\nthem so very thick, I was forced to pull some of them up again.\nIn this place also I had my grapes growing, which I principally\ndepended on for my winter store of raisins, and which I never failed\nto preserve very carefully, as the best and most agreeable dainty of\nmy whole diet. And indeed they were not agreeable only, but physical,\nwholesome, nourishing, and refreshing to the last degree.\nAs this was also about half-way between my other habitation and the\nplace where I had laid up my boat, I generally stayed and lay here in\nmy way thither; for I used frequently to visit my boat, and I kept all\nthings about, or belonging to her, in very good order. Sometimes I went\nout in her to divert myself, but no more hazardous voyages would I go,\nnor scarce ever above a stone\u2019s cast or two from the shore, I was so\napprehensive of being hurried out of my knowledge again by the currents\nor winds, or any other accident. But now I come to a new scene of my\nlife.\nCHAPTER XVII\n_Unexpected Alarm--Cause for Apprehension--He Fortifies His Abode_\nIt happened one day, about noon, going towards my boat, I was\nexceedingly surprised with the print of a man\u2019s naked foot on the\nshore, which was very plain to be seen in the sand. I stood like one\nthunderstruck, or as if I had seen an apparition. I listened, I looked\nround me, I could hear nothing, nor see anything. I went up to a rising\nground, to look farther. I went up the shore, and down the shore, but\nit was all one; I could see no other impression but that one.\nI went to it again to see if there were any more, and to observe if it\nmight not be my fancy; but there was no room for that, for there was\nexactly the very print of a foot--toes, heel, and every part of a foot.\nHow it came thither I knew not, nor could in the least imagine. But\nafter innumerable fluttering thoughts, like a man perfectly confused\nand out of myself, I came home to my fortification, not feeling, as we\nsay, the ground I went on, but terrified to the last degree, looking\nbehind me at every two or three steps, mistaking every bush and tree,\nand fancying every stump at a distance to be a man; nor is it possible\nto describe how many various shapes affrighted imagination represented\nthings to me in, how many wild ideas were found every moment in my\nfancy, and what strange, unaccountable whimsies came into my thoughts\nby the way.\nWhen I came to my castle, for so I think I called it ever after this,\nI fled into it like one pursued. Whether I went over by the ladder, as\nfirst contrived, or went in at the hole in the rock, which I called a\ndoor, I cannot remember; no, nor could I remember the next morning, for\nnever frightened hare fled to cover, or fox to earth, with more terror\nof mind than I to this retreat.\n[Illustration: \u201c_I stood like one thunderstruck, or as if I had seen an\napparition_\u201d]\nI slept none that night. The farther I was from the occasion of my\nfright, the greater my apprehensions were; which is something contrary\nto the nature of such things, and especially to the usual practice of\nall creatures in fear. But I was so embarrassed with my own frightful\nideas of the thing, that I formed nothing but dismal imaginations\nto myself, even though I was now a great way off it. Sometimes I\nfancied it must be the devil, and reason joined in with me upon this\nsupposition; for how should any other thing in human shape come into\nthe place? Where was the vessel that brought them? What marks were\nthere of any other footsteps? And how was it possible a man should come\nthere? But then to think that Satan should take human shape upon him in\nsuch a place, where there could be no manner of occasion for it, but to\nleave the print of his foot behind him, and that even for no purpose\ntoo, for he could not be sure I should see it; this was an amusement\nthe other way. I considered that the devil might have found out\nabundance of other ways to have terrified me than this of the single\nprint of a foot; that as I lived quite on the other side of the island,\nhe would never have been so simple to leave a mark in a place where it\nwas ten thousand to one whether I should ever see it or not, and in\nthe sand too, which the first surge of the sea, upon a high wind, would\nhave defaced entirely. All this seemed inconsistent with the thing\nitself, and with all the notions we usually entertain of the subtility\nof the devil.\nAbundance of such things as these assisted to argue me out of all\napprehensions of its being the devil; and I presently concluded then,\nthat it must be some more dangerous creature, viz., that it must be\nsome of the savages of the mainland over against me, who had wandered\nout to sea in their canoes, and, either driven by the currents or by\ncontrary winds, had made the island, and had been on shore, but were\ngone away again to sea, being as loth, perhaps, to have stayed in this\ndesolate island as I would have been to have had them.\nWhile these reflections were rolling upon my mind, I was very thankful\nin my thoughts that I was so happy as not to be thereabouts at that\ntime, or that they did not see my boat, by which they would have\nconcluded that some inhabitants had been in the place, and perhaps have\nsearched farther for me. Then terrible thoughts racked my imagination\nabout their having found my boat, and that there were people here; and\nthat if so, I should certainly have them come again in greater numbers,\nand devour me; and if it should happen so that they should not find me,\nyet they would find my enclosure, destroy all my corn, carry away all\nmy flock of tame goats, and I should perish at last for mere want.\nThus my fear banished all my religious hope. All that former confidence\nin God, which was founded upon such wonderful experience as I had had\nof His goodness, now vanished, as if He that had fed me by miracle\nhitherto could not preserve, by His power, the provision which He had\nmade for me by His goodness. I reproached myself with my easiness,\nthat would not sow any more corn one year than would just serve me\ntill the next season, as if no accident could intervene to prevent my\nenjoying the crop that was upon the ground. And this I thought so just\na reproof, that I resolved for the future to have two or three years\u2019\ncorn beforehand, so that, whatever might come, I might not perish for\nwant of bread.\nHow strange a checker-work of Providence is the life of man! and by\nwhat secret differing springs are the affections hurried about as\ndiffering circumstances present! To-day we love what to-morrow we\nhate; to-day we seek what to-morrow we shun; to-day we desire what\nto-morrow we fear; nay, even tremble at the apprehensions of. This was\nexemplified in me, at this time, in the most lively manner imaginable;\nfor I, whose only affliction was that I seemed banished from human\nsociety, that I was alone, circumscribed by the boundless ocean, cut\noff from mankind, and condemned to what I called silent life; that I\nwas as one whom Heaven thought not worthy to be numbered among the\nliving, or to appear among the rest of His creatures; that to have\nseen one of my own species would have seemed to me a raising me from\ndeath to life, and the greatest blessing that Heaven itself, next to\nthe supreme blessing of salvation, could bestow; I say, that I should\nnow tremble at the very apprehensions of seeing a man, and was ready to\nsink into the ground at but the shadow or silent appearance of a man\u2019s\nhaving set his foot in the island!\nSuch is the uneven state of human life; and it afforded me a great many\ncurious speculations afterwards, when I had a little recovered my first\nsurprise. I considered that this was the station of life the infinitely\nwise and good providence of God had determined for me; that, as I could\nnot foresee what the ends of Divine wisdom might be in all this, so I\nwas not to dispute His sovereignty, who, as I was His creature, had an\nundoubted right, by creation, to govern and dispose of me absolutely as\nHe thought fit, and who, as I was a creature who had offended Him, had\nlikewise a judicial right to condemn me to what punishment He thought\nfit; and that it was my part to submit to bear His indignation, because\nI had sinned against Him.\nI then reflected that God, who was not only righteous, but omnipotent,\nas He had thought fit thus to punish and afflict me, so He was able to\ndeliver me; that if He did not think fit to do it \u2019twas my unquestioned\nduty to resign myself absolutely and entirely to His will; and, on\nthe other hand, it was my duty also to hope in Him, pray to Him, and\nquietly to attend the dictates and directions of His daily providence.\nThese thoughts took me up many hours, days, nay, I may say, weeks and\nmonths; and one particular effect of my cogitations on this occasion\nI cannot omit, viz., one morning early, lying in my bed, and filled\nwith thought about my danger from the appearance of savages, I found\nit discomposed me very much; upon which those words of the Scripture\ncame into my thoughts, \u201cCall upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will\ndeliver, and thou shalt glorify Me.\u201d\nUpon this, rising cheerfully out of my bed, my heart was not only\ncomforted, but I was guided and encouraged to pray earnestly to God for\ndeliverance. When I had done praying, I took up my Bible, and opening\nit to read, the first words that presented to me were, \u201cWait on the\nLord, and be of good cheer, and He shall strengthen thy heart; wait, I\nsay, on the Lord.\u201d It is impossible to express the comfort this gave\nme. In answer, I thankfully laid down the book, and was no more sad, at\nleast, not on that occasion.\nIn the middle of these cogitations, apprehensions, and reflections, it\ncame into my thought one day, that all this might be a mere chimera\nof my own; and that this foot might be the print of my own foot, when\nI came on shore from my boat. This cheered me up a little too, and I\nbegan to persuade myself it was all a delusion, that it was nothing\nelse but my own foot; and why might not I come that way from the boat,\nas well as I was going that way to the boat? Again, I considered also,\nthat I could by no means tell, for certain, where I had trod, and where\nI had not; and that if, at last, this was only the print of my own\nfoot, I had played the part of those fools who strive to make stories\nof spectres and apparitions, and then are frightened at them more than\nanybody.\nNow I began to take courage, and to peep abroad again, for I had not\nstirred out of my castle for three days and nights, so that I began to\nstarve for provision; for I had little or nothing within doors but some\nbarley-cakes and water. Then I knew that my goats wanted to be milked\ntoo, which usually was my evening diversion; and the poor creatures\nwere in great pain and inconvenience for want of it; and, indeed, it\nalmost spoiled some of them, and almost dried up their milk.\nHeartening myself, therefore, with the belief that this was nothing but\nthe print of one of my own feet, and so I might be truly said to start\nat my own shadow, I began to go abroad again, and went to my country\nhouse to milk my flock. But to see with what fear I went forward, how\noften I looked behind me, how I was ready, every now and then, to lay\ndown my basket, and run for my life, it would have made any one have\nthought I was haunted with an evil conscience, or that I had been\nlately most terribly frightened; and so, indeed, I had.\nHowever, as I went down thus two or three days, and having seen\nnothing, I began to be a little bolder, and to think there was really\nnothing in it but my own imagination. But I could not persuade myself\nfully of this till I should go down to the shore again, and see this\nprint of a foot, and measure it by my own, and see if there was any\nsimilitude or fitness, that I might be assured it was my own foot. But\nwhen I came to the place, first, it appeared evidently to me, that\nwhen I laid up my boat, I could not possibly be on shore anywhere\nthereabout; secondly, when I came to measure the mark with my own\nfoot, I found my foot not so large by a great deal. Both these things\nfilled my head with new imaginings, and gave me the vapors again to the\nhighest degree; so that I shook with cold, like one in an ague; and I\nwent home again, filled with the belief that some man or men had been\non shore there; or, in short, that the island was inhabited, and I\nmight be surprised before I was aware. And what course to take for my\nsecurity, I knew not.\nOh, what ridiculous resolutions men take when possessed with fear! It\ndeprives them of the use of those means which reason offers for their\nrelief. The first thing I proposed to myself was to throw down my\nenclosures, and turn all my tame cattle wild into the woods, that the\nenemy might not find them, and then frequent the island in prospect of\nthe same or the like booty; then to the simple thing of digging up my\ntwo cornfields, that they might not find such a grain there, and still\nbe prompted to frequent the island; then to demolish my bower and tent,\nthat they might not see any vestiges of habitation, and be prompted to\nlook farther, in order to find out the persons inhabiting.\nThese were the subject of the first night\u2019s cogitation, after I was\ncome home again, while the apprehensions which had so overrun my mind\nwere fresh upon me, and my head was full of vapors, as above. Thus\nfear of danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger\nitself when apparent to the eyes; and we find the burden of anxiety\ngreater, by much, than the evil which we are anxious about; and, which\nwas worse than all this, I had not that relief in this trouble from\nthe resignation I used to practise, that I hoped to have. I looked,\nI thought, like Saul, who complained not only that the Philistines\nwere upon him, but that God had forsaken him; for I did not now take\ndue ways to compose my mind, by crying to God in my distress, and\nresting upon His providence, as I had done before, for my defence and\ndeliverance; which, if I had done, I had at least been more cheerfully\nsupported under this new surprise, and perhaps carried through it with\nmore resolution.\nThis confusion of my thoughts kept me waking all night, but in the\nmorning I fell asleep; and having, by the amusement of my mind, been,\nas it were, tired, and my spirits exhausted, I slept very soundly, and\nwaked much better composed than I had ever been before. And now I began\nto think sedately; and upon the utmost debate with myself, I concluded\nthat this island, which was so exceeding pleasant, fruitful, and no\nfarther from the mainland than as I had seen, was not so entirely\nabandoned as I might imagine; that although there were no stated\ninhabitants who lived on the spot, yet that there might sometimes come\nboats off from the shore, which, either with design, or perhaps never\nbut when they were driven by cross winds, might come to this place;\nthat I had lived here fifteen years now, and had not met with the least\nshadow or figure of any people yet; and that if at any time they should\nbe driven here, it was probable they went away again as soon as ever\nthey could, seeing they had never thought fit to fix there upon any\noccasion to this time; that the most I could suggest any danger from,\nwas from any such casual accidental landing of straggling people from\nthe main, who, as it was likely if they were driven hither, were here\nagainst their wills; so they made no stay here, but went off again with\nall possible speed, seldom staying one night on shore, lest they should\nnot have the help of the tides and daylight back again; and that,\ntherefore, I had nothing to do but to consider of some safe retreat, in\ncase I should see any savages land upon the spot.\nNow I began sorely to repent that I had dug my cave so large as to\nbring a door through again, which door, as I said, came out beyond\nwhere my fortification joined to the rock. Upon maturely considering\nthis, therefore, I resolved to draw me a second fortification in the\nsame manner of a semicircle, at a distance from my wall, just where I\nhad planted a double row of trees about twelve years before, of which\nI made mention. These trees having been planted so thick before, they\nwanted but a few piles to be driven between them, that they should be\nthicker and stronger, and my wall would be soon finished.\nSo that I had now a double wall; and my outer wall was thickened with\npieces of timber, old cables, and everything I could think of, to make\nit strong, having in it seven little holes, about as big as I might put\nmy arm out at. In the inside of this I thickened my wall to about ten\nfeet thick, with continual bringing earth out of my cave, and laying\nit at the foot of the wall, and walking upon it; and through the seven\nholes I contrived to plant the muskets, of which I took notice that I\ngot seven on shore out of the ship. These, I say, I planted like my\ncannon, and fitted them into frames, that held them like a carriage,\nthat so I could fire all the seven guns in two minutes\u2019 time. This wall\nI was many a weary month a-finishing, and yet never thought myself safe\ntill it was done.\nWhen this was done, I stuck all the ground without my wall, for a great\nway every way, as full with stakes, or sticks, of the osier-like wood,\nwhich I found so apt to grow, as they could well stand; insomuch, that\nI believe I might set in near twenty thousand of them, leaving a pretty\nlarge space between them and my wall, that I might have room to see\nan enemy, and they might have no shelter from the young trees, if they\nattempted to approach my outer wall.\nThus in two years\u2019 time I had a thick grove; and in five or six years\u2019\ntime I had a wood before my dwelling, growing so monstrous thick and\nstrong, that it was indeed perfectly impassable; and no men, of what\nkind soever, would ever imagine that there was anything beyond it, much\nless a habitation. As for the way which I proposed to myself to go in\nand out, for I left no avenue, it was by setting two ladders, one to\na part of the rock which was low, and then broke in, and left room to\nplace another ladder upon that; so when the two ladders were taken\ndown, no man living could come down to me without hurting himself; and\nif they had come down, they were still on the outside of my outer wall.\nThus I took all the measures human prudence could suggest for my own\npreservation; and it will be seen, at length, that they were not\naltogether without just reason; though I foresaw nothing at that time\nmore than my mere fear suggested to me.\nWhile this was doing, I was not altogether careless of my other\naffairs; for I had a great concern upon me for my little herd of goats.\nThey were not only a present supply to me upon every occasion, and\nbegan to be sufficient to me, without the expense of powder and shot,\nbut also without the fatigue of hunting after the wild ones; and I was\nloth to lose the advantage of them, and to have them all to nurse up\nover again.\nTo this purpose, after long consideration, I could think of but two\nways to preserve them. One was, to find another convenient place to\ndig a cave under ground, and to drive them into it every night; and\nthe other was, to enclose two or three little bits of land, remote\nfrom one another, and as much concealed as I could, where I might keep\nabout half a dozen young goats in each place; so that if any disaster\nhappened to the flock in general, I might be able to raise them again\nwith little trouble and time. And this, though it would require a great\ndeal of time and labor, I thought was the most rational design.\nAccordingly I spent some time to find out the most retired parts of the\nisland; and I pitched upon one which was as private indeed as my heart\ncould wish for. It was a little damp piece of ground, in the middle of\nthe hollow and thick woods, where, as is observed, I almost lost myself\nonce before, endeavoring to come back that way from the eastern part of\nthe island. Here I found a clear piece of land, near three acres, so\nsurrounded with woods, that it was almost an enclosure by Nature; at\nleast, it did not want near so much labor to make it so as the other\npieces of ground I had worked so hard at.\nCHAPTER XVIII\n_Precautions Against Surprise--Robinson Discovers that His Island Has\nBeen Visited by Cannibals_\nI immediately went to work with this piece of ground, and in less than\na month\u2019s time I had so fenced it round, that my flock, or herd, call\nit which you please, who were not so wild now as at first they might be\nsupposed to be, were well enough secured in it. So, without any farther\ndelay, I removed ten young she-goats and two he-goats to this piece.\nAnd when they were there, I continued to perfect the fence, till I had\nmade it as secure as the other, which, however, I did at more leisure,\nand it took me up more time by a great deal.\nAll this labor I was at the expense of, purely from my apprehensions\non the account of the print of a man\u2019s foot which I had seen; for, as\nyet, I never saw any human creature come near the island. And I had\nnow lived two years under these uneasinesses, which, indeed, made my\nlife much less comfortable than it was before, as may well be imagined\nby any who know what it is to live in the constant snare of the fear\nof man. And this I must observe, with grief too, that the discomposure\nof my mind had too great impressions also upon the religious part of\nmy thoughts; for the dread and terror of falling into the hands of\nsavages and cannibals lay so upon my spirits, that I seldom found\nmyself in a due temper or application to my Maker, at least not with\nthe sedate calmness and resignation of soul which I was wont to do.\nI rather prayed to God as under great affliction and pressure of\nmind, surrounded with danger, and in expectation every night of being\nmurdered and devoured before morning; and I must testify from my\nexperience, that a temper of peace, thankfulness, love, and affection,\nis much more the proper frame for prayer than that of terror and\ndiscomposure; and that under the dread of mischief impending, a man is\nno more fit for a comforting performance of the duty of praying to God,\nthan he is for repentance on a sick-bed. For these discomposures affect\nthe mind, as the others do the body; and the discomposure of the mind\nmust necessarily be as great a disability as that of the body, and much\ngreater, praying to God being properly an act of the mind, not of the\nbody.\nBut to go on. After I had thus secured one part of my little living\nstock, I went about the whole island, searching for another private\nplace to make such another deposit; when, wandering more to the west\npoint of the island than I had ever done yet, and looking out to sea, I\nthought I saw a boat upon the sea, at a great distance. I had found a\nperspective glass or two in one of the seamen\u2019s chests, which I saved\nout of our ship, but I had it not about me; and this was so remote,\nthat I could not tell what to make of it, though I looked at it till my\neyes were not able to hold to look any longer. Whether it was a boat\nor not, I do not know; but as I descended from the hill, I could see\nno more of it, so I gave it over; only I resolved to go no more out\nwithout a perspective glass in my pocket.\nWhen I was come down the hill to the end of the island, where, indeed,\nI had never been before, I was presently convinced that the seeing the\nprint of a man\u2019s foot was not such a strange thing in the island as I\nimagined. And, but that it was a special providence that I was cast\nupon the side of the island where the savages never came, I should\neasily have known that nothing was more frequent than for the canoes\nfrom the main, when they happened to be a little too far out at sea,\nto shoot over to that side of the island for harbor; likewise, as they\noften met and fought in their canoes, the victors having taken any\nprisoners would bring them over to this shore, where, according to\ntheir dreadful customs, being all cannibals, they would kill and eat\nthem; of which hereafter.\nWhen I was come down the hill to the shore, as I said above, being the\nS.W. point of the island, I was perfectly confounded and amazed; nor is\nit possible for me to express the horror of my mind at seeing the shore\nspread with skulls, hands, feet, and other bones, of human bodies; and\nparticularly, I observed a place where there had been a fire made, and\na circle dug in the earth, like a cockpit, where it is supposed the\nsavage wretches had sat down to the inhuman feastings upon the bodies\nof their fellow-creatures.\nI was so astonished with the sight of these things, that I entertained\nno notion of any danger to myself from it for a long while. All my\napprehensions were buried in the thoughts of such a pitch of inhuman,\nhellish brutality, and the horror of the degeneracy of human nature,\nwhich, though I had heard of often, yet I never had so near a view of\nbefore. In short, I turned away my face from the horrid spectacle. My\nstomach grew sick, and I was just at the point of fainting, when Nature\ndischarged the disorder from my stomach. And having vomited with an\nuncommon violence, I was a little relieved, but could not bear to stay\nin the place a moment; so I got me up the hill again with all the speed\nI could, and walked on towards my own habitation.\nWhen I came a little out of that part of the island, I stood still a\nwhile, as amazed; and then recovering myself, I looked up with the\nutmost affection of my soul, and with a flood of tears in my eyes, gave\nGod thanks, that had cast my first lot in a part of the world where\nI was distinguished from such dreadful creatures as these; and that,\nthough I had esteemed my present condition very miserable, had yet\ngiven me so many comforts in it, that I had still more to give thanks\nfor than to complain of; and this above all, that I had, even in this\nmiserable condition, been comforted with the knowledge of Himself, and\nthe hope of His blessing; which was a felicity more than sufficiently\nequivalent to all the misery which I had suffered, or could suffer.\nIn this frame of thankfulness I went home to my castle, and began to be\nmuch easier now, as to the safety of my circumstances, than ever I was\nbefore; for I observed that these wretches never came to this island in\nsearch of what they could get; perhaps not seeking, not wanting, or not\nexpecting, anything here; and having often, no doubt, been up in the\ncovered, woody part of it, without finding anything to their purpose.\nI knew I had been here now almost eighteen years, and never saw the\nleast footsteps of human creature there before; and I might be here\neighteen more as entirely concealed as I was now, if I did not discover\nmyself to them, which I had no manner of occasion to do; it being my\nonly business to keep myself entirely concealed where I was, unless I\nfound a better sort of creatures than cannibals to make myself known to.\nYet I entertained such an abhorrence of the savage wretches that I\nhave been speaking of, and of the wretched, inhuman custom of their\ndevouring and eating one another up, that I continued pensive and sad,\nand kept close within my own circle for almost two years after this.\nWhen I say my own circle, I mean by it my three plantations, viz., my\ncastle, my country seat, which I called my bower, and my enclosure\nin the woods. Nor did I look after this for any other use than as an\nenclosure for my goats; for the aversion which Nature gave me to these\nhellish wretches was such, that I was fearful of seeing them as of\nseeing the devil himself. Nor did I so much as go to look after my boat\nin all this time, but began rather to think of making me another; for\nI could not think of ever making any more attempts to bring the other\nboat round the island to me, lest I should meet with some of these\ncreatures at sea, in which, if I had happened to have fallen into their\nhands, I knew what would have been my lot.\nTime, however, and the satisfaction I had that I was in no danger of\nbeing discovered by these people, began to wear off my uneasiness\nabout them; and I began to live just in the same composed manner as\nbefore; only with this difference, that I used more caution, and kept\nmy eyes more about me, than I did before, lest I should happen to be\nseen by any of them; and particularly, I was more cautious of firing\nmy gun, lest any of them being on the island should happen to hear of\nit. And it was, therefore, a very good providence to me that I had\nfurnished myself with a tame breed of goats, that I needed not hunt\nany more about the woods, or shoot at them. And if I did catch any of\nthem after this, it was by traps and snares, as I had done before; so\nthat for two years after this I believe I never fired my gun once off,\nthough I never went out without it; and, which was more, as I had saved\nthree pistols out of the ship, I always carried them out with me, or at\nleast two of them, sticking them in my goat-skin belt. Also I furbished\nup one of the great cutlasses that I had out of the ship, and made me\na belt to put it on also; so that I was now a most formidable fellow\nto look at when I went abroad, if you add to the former description of\nmyself the particular of two pistols, and a great broadsword hanging at\nmy side in a belt, but without a scabbard.\nThings going on thus, as I have said, for some time, I seemed,\nexcepting these cautions, to be reduced to my former calm, sedate way\nof living. All these things tended to showing me, more and more, how\nfar my condition was from being miserable, compared to some others;\nnay, to many other particulars of life, which it might have pleased\nGod to have made my lot. It put me upon reflecting how little repining\nthere would be among mankind at any condition of life, if people would\nrather compare their condition with those that are worse, in order to\nbe thankful, than be always comparing them with those which are better,\nto assist their murmurings and complainings.\nAs in my present condition there were not really many things which I\nwanted, so indeed I thought that the frights I had been in about these\nsavage wretches, and the concern I had been in for my own preservation,\nhad taken off the edge of my invention for my own conveniences. And\nI had dropped a good design, which I had once bent my thoughts too\nmuch upon; and that was, to try if I could not make some of my barley\ninto malt, and then try to brew myself some beer. This was really a\nwhimsical thought, and I reproved myself often for the simplicity of\nit; for I presently saw there would be the want of several things\nnecessary to the making my beer, that it would be impossible for me to\nsupply. As, first, casks to preserve it in, which was a thing that, as\nI have observed already, I could never compass; no, though I spent not\nmany days, but weeks, nay, months, in attempting it, but to no purpose.\nIn the next place, I had no hops to make it keep, no yeast to make it\nwork, no copper or kettle to make it boil; and yet all these things\nnotwithstanding, I verily believe, had not these things intervened,\nI mean the frights and terrors I was in about the savages, I had\nundertaken it, and perhaps brought it to pass too; for I seldom gave\nanything over without accomplishing it when I once had it in my head\nenough to begin it.\nBut my invention now ran quite another way; for, night and day, I\ncould think of nothing but how I might destroy some of these monsters\nin their cruel, bloody entertainment, and, if possible, save the\nvictim they should bring hither to destroy. It would take up a larger\nvolume than this whole work is intended to be, to set down all the\ncontrivances I hatched, or rather brooded upon, in my thought, for\nthe destroying these creatures, or at least frightening them so as to\nprevent their coming hither any more. But all was abortive; nothing\ncould be possible to take effect, unless I was to be there to do it\nmyself. And what could one man do among them, when perhaps there might\nbe twenty or thirty of them together, with their darts, or their bows\nand arrows, which they could shoot as true to a mark as I could with my\ngun?\nSometimes I contrived to dig a hole under the place where they made\ntheir fire, and put in five or six pounds of gunpowder, which, when\nthey kindled their fire, would consequently take fire, and blow up all\nthat was near it. But as, in the first place, I should be very loth to\nwaste so much powder upon them, my store being now within the quantity\nof one barrel, so neither could I be sure of its going off at any\ncertain time, when it might surprise them; and, at best, that it would\ndo little more than just blow the fire about their ears, and frighten\nthem, but not sufficient to make them forsake the place. So I laid it\naside, and then proposed that I would place myself in ambush in some\nconvenient place, with my three guns all double-loaded, and, in the\nmiddle of their bloody ceremony, let fly at them, when I should be sure\nto kill or wound perhaps two or three at every shot; and then falling\nin upon them with my three pistols and my sword, I made no doubt but\nthat if there was twenty I should kill them all. This fancy pleased my\nthoughts for some weeks; and I was so full of it, that I often dreamed\nof it, and sometimes that I was just going to let fly at them in my\nsleep.\nI went so far with it in my imagination, that I employed myself several\ndays to find out proper places to put myself in ambuscade, as I said,\nto watch for them; and I went frequently to the place itself, which\nwas now grown more familiar to me; and especially while my mind was\nthus filled with thoughts of revenge, and of a bloody putting twenty\nor thirty of them to the sword, as I may call it, the horror I had at\nthe place, and at the signals of the barbarous wretches devouring one\nanother, abated my malice.\nWell, at length I found a place in the side of the hill, where I was\nsatisfied I might securely wait till I saw any of their boats coming;\nand might then, even before they would be ready to come on shore,\nconvey myself, unseen, into thickets of trees, in one of which there\nwas a hollow large enough to conceal me entirely; and where I might\nsit and observe all their bloody doings, and take my full aim at their\nheads, when they were so close together, as that it would be next to\nimpossible that I should miss my shot, or that I could fail wounding\nthree or four of them at the first shot.\nIn this place, then, I resolved to fix my design; and, accordingly, I\nprepared two muskets and my ordinary fowling-piece. The two muskets I\nloaded with a brace of slugs each, and four or five smaller bullets,\nabout the size of pistol-bullets; and the fowling-piece I loaded\nwith near a handful of swanshot, of the largest size. I also loaded\nmy pistols with about four bullets each; and in this posture, well\nprovided with ammunition for a second and third charge, I prepared\nmyself for my expedition.\nAfter I had thus laid the scheme of my design, and in my imagination\nput it in practice, I continually made my tour every morning up to the\ntop of the hill, which was from my castle, as I called it, about three\nmiles, or more, to see if I could observe any boats upon the sea coming\nnear the island, or standing over towards it. But I began to tire of\nthis hard duty, after I had, for two or three months, constantly kept\nmy watch, but came always back without any discovery; there having not,\nin all that time, been the least appearance, not only on or near the\nshore, but not on the whole ocean so far as my eyes or glasses could\nreach every way.\nAs long as I kept up my daily tour to the hill to look out, so long\nalso I kept up the vigor of my design, and my spirits seemed to be\nall the while in a suitable form for so outrageous an execution as\nthe killing twenty or thirty naked savages for an offence which I had\nnot at all entered into a discussion of in my thoughts, any farther\nthan my passions were at first fired by the horror I conceived at the\nunnatural custom of that people of the country; who, it seems, had\nbeen suffered by Providence, in His wise disposition of the world, to\nhave no other guide than that of their own abominable and vitiated\npassions; and consequently were left, and perhaps had been so for some\nages, to act such horrid things, and receive such dreadful customs,\nas nothing but nature entirely abandoned of Heaven, and acted by some\nhellish degeneracy, could have run them into. But now when, as I have\nsaid, I began to be weary of the fruitless excursion which I had made\nso long and so far every morning in vain, so my opinion of the action\nitself began to alter; and I began, with cooler and calmer thoughts, to\nconsider what it was I was going to engage in.\nWhat authority or call I had to pretend to be judge and executioner\nupon these men as criminals, whom Heaven had thought fit, for so many\nages, to suffer, unpunished, to go on, and to be, as it were, the\nexecutioners of His judgments one upon another? How far these people\nwere offenders against me, and what right I had to engage in the\nquarrel of that blood which they shed promiscuously one upon another?\nI debated this very often with myself, thus: How do I know what God\nHimself judges in this particular case? It is certain these people\neither do not commit this as a crime; it is not against their own\nconsciences\u2019 reproving, or their light reproaching them. They do not\nknow it to be an offense, and then commit it in defiance of Divine\njustice, as we do in almost all the sins we commit. They think it no\nmore a crime to kill a captive taken in war, than we do to kill an ox;\nnor to eat human flesh, than we do to eat mutton.\nWhen I had considered this a little, it followed necessarily that I\nwas certainly in the wrong in it; that these people were not murderers\nin the sense that I had before condemned them in my thoughts, any\nmore than those Christians were murderers who often put to death the\nprisoners taken in battle; or more frequently, upon many occasions, put\nwhole troops of men to the sword, without giving quarter, though they\nthrew down their arms and submitted.\nIn the next place it occurred to me, that albeit the usage they thus\ngave one another was thus brutish and inhuman, yet it was really\nnothing to me; these people had done me no injury. That if they\nattempted me, or I saw it necessary for my immediate preservation to\nfall upon them, something might be said for it; but that as I was\nyet out of their power, and they had really no knowledge of me, and\nconsequently no design upon me, and therefore it could not be just\nfor me to fall upon them. That this would justify the conduct of the\nSpaniards in all their barbarities practised in America, and where they\ndestroyed millions of these people; who, however they were idolaters\nand barbarians, and had several bloody and barbarous rites in their\ncustoms, such as sacrificing human bodies to their idols, were yet, as\nto the Spaniards, very innocent people; and that the rooting them out\nof the country is spoken of with the utmost abhorrence and detestation\nby even the Spaniards themselves at this time, and by all other\nChristian nations of Europe, as a mere butchery, a bloody and unnatural\npiece of cruelty, unjustifiable either to God or man; and such, as\nfor which the very name of a Spaniard is reckoned to be frightful and\nterrible to all people of humanity, or of Christian compassion; as if\nthe kingdom of Spain were particularly eminent for the product of a\nrace of men who were without principles of tenderness, or the common\nbowels of pity to the miserable, which is reckoned to be a mark of\ngenerous temper in the mind.\nThese considerations really put me to a pause, and to a kind of a full\nstop; and I began, by little and little, to be off of my design, and\nto conclude I had taken wrong measures in my resolutions to attack\nthe savages; that it was not my business to meddle with them, unless\nthey first attacked me; and this it was my business, if possible, to\nprevent; but that if I were discovered and attacked, then I knew my\nduty.\nOn the other hand, I argued with myself that this really was the way\nnot to deliver myself, but entirely to ruin and destroy myself; for\nunless I was sure to kill every one that not only should be on shore at\nthat time, but that should ever come on shore afterwards, if but one of\nthem escaped to tell their country people what had happened, they would\ncome over again by thousands to revenge the death of their fellows,\nand I should only bring upon myself a certain destruction, which, at\npresent, I had no manner of occasion for.\nUpon the whole, I concluded that neither in principles nor in policy\nI ought, one way or other, to concern myself in this affair. That my\nbusiness was, by all possible means, to conceal myself from them, and\nnot to leave the least signal to them to guess by that there were any\nliving creatures upon the island; I mean of human shape.\nReligion joined in with this prudential, and I was convinced now,\nmany ways, that I was perfectly out of my duty when I was laying all\nmy bloody schemes for the destruction of innocent creatures; I mean\ninnocent as to me. As to the crimes they were guilty of towards one\nanother, I had nothing to do with them. They were national, and I ought\nto leave them to the justice of God, who is the Governor of nations,\nand knows how, by national punishments, to make a just retribution for\nnational offenses, and to bring public judgments upon those who offend\nin a public manner by such ways as best pleases Him.\nThis appeared so clear to me now, that nothing was a greater\nsatisfaction to me than that I had not been suffered to do a thing\nwhich I now saw so much reason to believe would have been no less a\nsin than that of wilful murder, if I had committed it. And I gave most\nhumble thanks on my knees to God, that had thus delivered me from\nblood-guiltiness; beseeching Him to grant me the protection of His\nprovidence, that I might not fall into the hands of the barbarians, or\nthat I might not lay my hands upon them, unless I had a more clear call\nfrom Heaven to do it, in defense of my own life.\nCHAPTER XIX\n_Robinson Discovers a Cave, which Serves Him as a Retreat Against the\nSavages_\nIn this disposition I continued for near a year after this; and so far\nwas I from desiring an occasion for falling upon these wretches, that\nin all that time I never once went up the hill to see whether there\nwere any of them in sight, or to know whether any of them had been on\nshore there or not, that I might not be tempted to renew any of my\ncontrivances against them, or be provoked, by any advantage which might\npresent itself, to fall upon them. Only this I did, I went and removed\nmy boat, which I had on the other side the island, and carried it down\nto the east end of the whole island, where I ran it into a little cove,\nwhich I found under some high rocks, and where I knew, by reason of the\ncurrents, the savages durst not, at least would not come, with their\nboats, upon any account whatsoever.\nWith my boat I carried away everything that I had left there belonging\nto her, though not necessary for the bare going thither, viz., a mast\nand sail which I had made for her, and a thing like an anchor, but\nindeed which could not be called either anchor or grappling; however,\nit was the best I could make of its kind. All these I removed,\nthat there might not be the least shadow of any discovery, or any\nappearance of any boat, or of any human habitation, upon the island.\nBesides this, I kept myself, as I said, more retired than ever, and\nseldom went from my cell, other than upon my constant employment, viz.,\nto milk my she-goats, and manage my little flock in the wood, which, as\nit was quite on the other part of the island, was quite out of danger;\nfor certain it is, that these savage people, who sometimes haunted\nthis island, never came with any thoughts of finding anything here,\nand consequently never wandered off from the coast; and I doubt not\nbut they might have been several times on shore after my apprehensions\nof them had made me cautious, as well as before; and indeed, I looked\nback with some horror upon the thoughts of what my condition would have\nbeen if I had chopped upon them and been discovered before that, when,\nnaked and unarmed, except with one gun, and that loaded often only with\nsmall shot, I walked everywhere, peeping and peeping about the island\nto see what I could get. What a surprise should I have been in if,\nwhen I discovered the print of a man\u2019s foot, I had, instead of that,\nseen fifteen or twenty savages, and found them pursuing me, and by the\nswiftness of their running, no possibility of my escaping them!\nThe thoughts of this sometimes sunk my very soul within me, and\ndistressed my mind so much, that I could not soon recover it, to think\nwhat I should have done, and how I not only should not have been\nable to resist them, but even should not have had presence of mind\nenough to do what I might have done, much less what now, after so much\nconsideration and preparation, I might be able to do. Indeed, after\nserious thinking of these things, I should be very melancholy, and\nsometimes it would last a great while; but I resolved it, at last, all\ninto thankfulness to that Providence which had delivered me from so\nmany unseen dangers, and had kept me from those mischiefs which I could\nno way have been the agent in delivering myself from, because I had not\nthe least notion of any such thing depending, or the least supposition\nof it being possible.\nThis renewed a contemplation which often had come to my thoughts in\nformer time, when first I began to see the merciful dispositions of\nHeaven, in the dangers we run through in this life. How wonderfully\nwe are delivered when we know nothing of it. How, when we are in a\nquandary, as we call it, a doubt or hesitation, whether to go this way,\nor that way, a secret hint shall direct us this way, when we intended\nto go that way; nay, when sense, our own inclination, and perhaps\nbusiness, has called to go the other way, yet a strange impression upon\nthe mind, from we know not what springs, and by we know not what power,\nshall overrule us to go this way; and it shall afterwards appear,\nthat had we gone that way which we should have gone, and even to our\nimagination ought to have gone, we should have been ruined and lost.\nUpon these and many like reflections I afterwards made it a certain\nrule with me, that whenever I found those secret hints or pressings\nof my mind to doing, or not doing, anything that presented, or to\ngoing this way or that way, I never failed to obey the secret dictate,\nthough I knew no other reason for it than that such a pressure, or\nsuch a hint, hung upon my mind. I could give many examples of the\nsuccess of this conduct in the course of my life, but more especially\nin the latter part of my inhabiting this unhappy island; besides many\noccasions which it is very likely I might have taken notice of, if I\nhad seen with the same eyes then that I saw with now. But \u2019tis never\ntoo late to be wise; and I cannot but advise all considering men, whose\nlives are attended with such extraordinary incidents as mine, or even\nthough not so extraordinary, not to slight such secret intimations\nof Providence, let them come from what invisible intelligence they\nwill. That I shall not discuss, and perhaps cannot account for; but\ncertainly they are a proof of the converse of spirits, and the secret\ncommunication between those embodied and those unembodied, and such\na proof as can never be withstood, of which I shall have occasion to\ngive some very remarkable instances in the remainder of my solitary\nresidence in this dismal place.\nI believe the reader of this will not think strange if I confess\nthat these anxieties, these constant dangers I lived in, and the\nconcern that was now upon me, put an end to all invention, and to all\nthe contrivances that I had laid for my future accommodations and\nconveniences. I had the care of my safety more now upon my hands than\nthat of my food. I cared not to drive a nail, or chop a stick of wood\nnow, for fear the noise I should make should be heard; much less would\nI fire a gun, for the same reason; and, above all, I was intolerably\nuneasy at making any fire, lest the smoke, which is visible at a great\ndistance in the day, should betray me; and for this reason I removed\nthat part of my business which required fire, such as burning of pots\nand pipes, etc., into my new apartment in the woods; where, after I had\nbeen some time, I found, to my unspeakable consolation, a mere natural\ncave in the earth, which went in a vast way, and where, I dare say, no\nsavage, had he been at the mouth of it, would be so hardy as to venture\nin; nor, indeed, would any man else, but one who, like me, wanted\nnothing so much as a safe retreat.\nThe mouth of this hollow was at the bottom of a great rock, where, by\nmere accident I would say (if I did not see abundant reason to ascribe\nall such things now to Providence), I was cutting down some thick\nbranches of trees to make charcoal; and before I go on, I must observe\nthe reason of my making this charcoal, which was thus.\nI was afraid of making a smoke about my habitation, as I said before;\nand yet I could not live there without baking my bread, cooking my\nmeat, etc. So I contrived to burn some wood here, as I had seen done in\nEngland under turf, till it became chark, or dry coal; and then putting\nthe fire out, I preserved the coal to carry home, and perform the other\nservices which fire was wanting for at home, without danger of smoke.\nBut this is by the bye. While I was cutting down some wood here,\nI perceived that behind a very thick branch of low brushwood, or\nunderwood, there was a kind of hollow place. I was curious to look into\nit; and getting with difficulty into the mouth of it, I found it was\npretty large; that is to say, sufficient for me to stand upright in\nit, and perhaps another with me. But I must confess to you I made more\nhaste out than I did in when, looking farther into the place, and which\nwas perfectly dark, I saw two broad shining eyes of some creature,\nwhether devil or man I knew not, which twinkled like two stars, the\ndim light from the cave\u2019s mouth shining directly in, and making the\nreflection.\nHowever, after some pause I recovered myself, and began to call myself\na thousand fools, and tell myself that he that was afraid to see the\ndevil was not fit to live twenty years on an island all alone, and\nthat I durst to believe there was nothing in this cave that was more\nfrightful than myself. Upon this, plucking up my courage, I took up\na great firebrand, and in I rushed again, with the stick flaming in\nmy hand. I had not gone three steps in, but I was almost as much\nfrightened as I was before; for I heard a very loud sigh, like that\nof a man in some pain, and it was followed by a broken noise, as if\nof words half expressed, and then a deep sigh again. I stepped back,\nand was indeed struck with such a surprise, that it put me into a\ncold sweat; and if I had had a hat on my head, I will not answer for\nit, that my hair might not have lifted it off. But still plucking up\nmy spirits as well as I could, and encouraging myself a little with\nconsidering that the power and presence of God was everywhere, and was\nable to protect me, upon this I stepped forward again, and by the light\nof the firebrand, holding it up a little over my head, I saw lying on\nthe ground a most monstrous, frightful, old he-goat, just making his\nwill, as we say, and gasping for life; and dying, indeed, of mere old\nage.\nI stirred him a little to see if I could get him out, and he essayed to\nget up, but was not able to raise himself; and I thought with myself\nhe might even lie there; for if he had frightened me so, he would\ncertainly frighten any of the savages, if any of them should be so\nhardy as to come in there while he had any life in him.\nI was now recovered from my surprise, and began to look around me, when\nI found the cave was but very small; that is to say, it might be about\ntwelve feet over, but in no manner of shape, either round or square, no\nhands having ever been employed in making it but those of mere Nature.\nI observed also that there was a place at the farther side of it that\nwent in farther, but was so low, that it required me to creep upon my\nhands and knees to go into it, and whither I went I knew not; so having\nno candle, I gave it over for some time, but resolved to come again the\nnext day, provided with candles and a tinderbox, which I had made of\nthe lock of one of the muskets, with some wild-fire in the pan.\nAccordingly, the next day I came provided with six large candles of\nmy own making, for I made very good candles now of goat\u2019s tallow; and\ngoing into this low place, I was obliged to creep upon all fours, as\nI have said, almost ten yards; which, by the way, I thought was a\nventure bold enough, considering that I knew not how far it might go,\nnor what was beyond it. When I was got through the strait, I found the\nroof rose higher up, I believe near twenty feet. But never was such\na glorious sight seen in the island, I dare say, as it was, to look\nround the sides and roof of this vault or cave; the walls reflected a\nhundred thousand lights to me from my two candles. What it was in the\nrock, whether diamonds, or any other precious stones, or gold, which I\nrather supposed it to be, I knew not.\nThe place I was in was a most delightful cavity or grotto of its kind,\nas could be expected, though perfectly dark. The floor was dry and\nlevel, and had a sort of small loose gravel upon it, so that there was\nno nauseous or venomous creature to be seen; neither was there any\ndamp or wet on the sides or roof. The only difficulty in it was the\nentrance, which, however, as it was a place of security, and such a\nretreat as I wanted, I thought that was a convenience; so that I was\nreally rejoiced at the discovery, and resolved, without any delay,\nto bring some of those things which I was most anxious about to this\nplace; particularly, I resolved to bring hither my magazine of powder,\nand all my spare arms, viz., two fowling-pieces, for I had three in\nall, and three muskets, for of them I had eight in all. So I kept at my\ncastle only five, which stood ready-mounted, like pieces of cannon, on\nmy outmost fence; and were ready also to take out upon any expedition.\nUpon this occasion of removing my ammunition, I took occasion to open\nthe barrel of powder, which I took up out of the sea, and which had\nbeen wet; and I found that the water had penetrated about three or four\ninches into the powder on every side, which caking, and growing hard,\nhad preserved the inside like a kernel in a shell; so that I had near\nsixty pounds of very good powder in the centre of the cask. And this\nwas an agreeable discovery to me at that time; so I carried all away\nthither, never keeping above two or three pounds of powder with me in\nmy castle, for fear of a surprise of any kind. I also carried thither\nall the lead I had left for bullets.\nI fancied myself now like one of the ancient giants, which were said to\nlive in caves and holes in the rocks, where none could come at them;\nfor I persuaded myself, while I was here, if five hundred savages were\nto hunt me, they could never find me out; or, if they did, they would\nnot venture to attack me here.\nThe old goat, whom I found expiring, died in the mouth of the cave the\nnext day after I made this discovery; and I found it much easier to dig\na great hole there, and throw him in and cover him with earth, than to\ndrag him out; so I interred him there, to prevent offense to my nose.\nI was now in my twenty-third year of residence in this island; and was\nso naturalized to the place, and to the manner of living, that could\nI have but enjoyed the certainty that no savages would come to the\nplace to disturb me, I could have been content to have capitulated\nfor spending the rest of my time there, even to the last moment, till\nI laid me down and died, like the old goat in the cave. I had also\narrived to some little diversions and amusements, which made the time\npass more pleasantly with me a great deal than it did before. As,\nfirst, I had taught my Poll, as I noted before, to speak; and he did\nit so familiarly, and talked so articulately and plain, that it was\nvery pleasant to me; and he lived with me no less than six and twenty\nyears. How long he might live afterwards I know not, though I know they\nhave a notion in the Brazils that they live a hundred years. Perhaps\npoor Poll may be alive there still, calling after poor Robin Crusoe to\nthis day. I wish no Englishman the ill luck to come there and hear\nhim; but if he did, he would certainly believe it was the devil. My dog\nwas a very pleasant and loving companion to me for no less than sixteen\nyears of my time, and then died of mere old age. As for my cats, they\nmultiplied, as I have observed, to that degree, that I was obliged to\nshoot several of them at first to keep them from devouring me and all I\nhad; but at length, when the two old ones I brought with me were gone,\nand after some time continually driving them from me, and letting them\nhave no provision with me, they all ran wild into the woods, except two\nor three favorites, which I kept tame, and whose young, when they had\nany, I always drowned; and these were part of my family. Besides these,\nI always kept two or three household kids about me, which I taught to\nfeed out of my hand. And I had two more parrots, which talked pretty\nwell, and would all call \u201cRobin Crusoe,\u201d but none like my first; nor,\nindeed, did I take the pains with any of them that I had done with him.\nI had also several tame sea-fowls, whose names I know not, which I\ncaught upon the shore, and cut their wings; and the little stakes which\nI had planted before my castle wall being now grown up to a good thick\ngroove, these fowls all lived among these low trees, and bred there,\nwhich was very agreeable to me; so that, as I said above, I began to\nbe very well contented with the life I led, if it might but have been\nsecured from the dread of the savages.\nBut it was otherwise directed; and it may not be amiss for all people\nwho shall meet with my story, to make this just observation from it,\nviz., how frequently, in the course of our lives, the evil which in\nitself we seek most to shun, and which, when we are fallen into it, is\nthe most dreadful to us, is oftentimes the very means or door of our\ndeliverance, by which alone we can be raised again from the affliction\nwe are fallen into. I could give many examples of this in the course\nof my unaccountable life; but in nothing was it more particularly\nremarkable, than in the circumstances of my last years of solitary\nresidence in this island.\nCHAPTER XX\n_Another Visit of the Savages--Robinson Sees Them Dancing--He Perceives\nthe Wreck of a Vessel_\nIt was now the month of December, as I said above, in my twenty-third\nyear; and this, being the southern solstice (for winter I cannot call\nit), was the particular time of my harvest, and required my being\npretty much abroad in the fields; when, going out pretty early in the\nmorning, even before it was thorough daylight, I was surprised with\nseeing a light of some fire upon the shore, at a distance from me of\nabout two miles, towards the end of the island, where I had observed\nsome savages had been, as before. But not on the other side; but, to my\ngreat affliction, it was on my side of the island.\nI was indeed terribly surprised at the sight, and stopped short within\nmy grove, not daring to go out, lest I might be surprised; and yet I\nhad no more peace within, from the apprehensions I had that if these\nsavages, in rambling over the island, should find my corn standing\nor cut, or any of my works and improvements, they would immediately\nconclude that there were people in the place, and would then never give\nover till they had found me out. In this extremity I went back directly\nto my castle, pulled up the ladder after me, and made all things\nwithout look as wild and natural as I could.\nThen I prepared myself within, putting myself in a posture of defense.\nI loaded all my cannon, as I called them, that is to say, my muskets,\nwhich were mounted upon my new fortification, and all my pistols, and\nresolved to defend myself to the last gasp; not forgetting seriously to\ncommend myself to the Divine protection, and earnestly to pray to God\nto deliver me out of the hands of the barbarians. And in this posture\nI continued about two hours; but began to be mighty impatient for\nintelligence abroad, for I had no spies to send out.\nAfter sitting a while longer, and musing what I should do in this case,\nI was not able to bear sitting in ignorance any longer; so setting\nup my ladder to the side of the hill where there was a flat place,\nas I observed before, and then pulling the ladder up after me, I set\nit up again, and mounted to the top of the hill; and pulling out my\nperspective-glass, which I had taken on purpose, I laid me down flat on\nmy belly on the ground, and began to look for the place. I presently\nfound there was no less than nine naked savages sitting round a small\nfire they had made, not to warm them, for they had no need of that, the\nweather being extreme hot, but, as I supposed, to dress some of their\nbarbarous diet of human flesh which they had brought with them, whether\nalive or dead, I could not know.\nThey had two canoes with them, which they had hauled up upon the\nshore; and as it was then tide of ebb, they seemed to me to wait for\nthe return of the flood to go away again. It is not easy to imagine\nwhat confusion this sight put me into, especially seeing them come on\nmy side the island, and so near me too. But when I observed their\ncoming must be always with the current of the ebb, I began afterwards\nto be more sedate in my mind, being satisfied that I might go abroad\nwith safety all the time of the tide of flood, if they were not on\nshore before; and having made this observation, I went abroad about my\nharvest-work with the more composure.\nAs I expected, so it proved; for as soon as the tide made to the\nwestward, I saw them all take boat, and row (or paddle, as we call it)\nall away. I should have observed, that for an hour and more before\nthey went off, they went to dancing; and I could easily discern their\npostures and gestures by my glasses. I could not perceive, by my nicest\nobservation, but that they were stark naked, and had not the least\ncovering upon them; but whether they were men or women, that I could\nnot distinguish.\nAs soon as I saw them shipped and gone, I took two guns upon my\nshoulders, and two pistols at my girdle, and my great sword by my side,\nwithout a scabbard, and with all the speed I was able to make I went\naway to the hill where I had discovered the first appearance of all.\nAnd as soon as I got thither, which was not less than two hours (for\nI could not go apace, being so laden with arms as I was), I perceived\nthere had been three canoes more of savages on that place; and looking\nout farther, I saw they were all at sea together, making over for the\nmain.\n[Illustration: \u201c_I laid me down flat on my belly on the ground, and\nbegan to look for the place_\u201d]\nThis was a dreadful sight to me, especially when, going down to the\nshore, I could see the marks of horror which the dismal work they had\nbeen about had left behind it, viz., the blood, the bones, and part\nof the flesh of human bodies, eaten and devoured by those wretches with\nmerriment and sport. I was so filled with indignation at the sight,\nthat I began now to premeditate the destruction of the next that I saw\nthere, let them be who or how many soever.\nIt seemed evident to me that the visits which they thus made to this\nisland were not very frequent, for it was above fifteen months before\nany more of them came on shore there again; that is to say, I neither\nsaw them, nor any footsteps nor signals of them, in all that time; for,\nas to the rainy seasons, then they are sure not to come abroad, at\nleast not so far. Yet all this while I lived uncomfortably, by reason\nof the constant apprehensions I was in of their coming upon me by\nsurprise; from whence I observe, that the expectation of evil is more\nbitter than the suffering, especially if there is no room to shake off\nthat expectation, or those apprehensions.\nDuring all this time I was in a murdering humor, and took up most of\nmy hours, which should have been better employed, in contriving how to\ncircumvent and fall upon them the very next time I should see them;\nespecially if they should be divided, as they were the last time, into\ntwo parties. Nor did I consider at all that if I killed one party,\nsuppose ten or a dozen, I was still the next day, or week, or month,\nto kill another, and so another, even _ad infinitum_, till I should be\nat length no less a murderer than they were in being man-eaters, and\nperhaps much more so.\nI spent my days now in great perplexity and anxiety of mind, expecting\nthat I should, one day or other, fall into the hands of these\nmerciless creatures; and if I did at any time venture abroad, it\nwas not without looking round me with the greatest care and caution\nimaginable. And now I found, to my great comfort, how happy it was that\nI provided for a tame flock or herd of goats; for I durst not, upon any\naccount, fire my gun, especially near that side of the island where\nthey usually came, lest I should alarm the savages. And if they had\nfled from me now, I was sure to have them come back again, with perhaps\ntwo or three hundred canoes with them, in a few days, and then I knew\nwhat to expect.\nHowever, I wore out a year and three months more before I ever saw\nany more of the savages, and then I found them again, as I shall soon\nobserve. It is true they might have been there once or twice, but\neither they made no stay, or at least I did not hear them; but in\nthe month of May, as near as I could calculate, and in my four and\ntwentieth year, I had a very strange encounter with them; of which in\nits place.\nThe perturbation of my mind, during this fifteen or sixteen months\u2019\ninterval, was very great. I slept unquiet, dreamed always frightful\ndreams, and often started out of my sleep in the night. In the day\ngreat troubles overwhelmed my mind, and in the night I dreamed often of\nkilling the savages, and of the reasons why I might justify the doing\nof it. But, to waive all this for a while, it was in the middle of\nMay, on the sixteenth day, I think, as well as my poor wooden calendar\nwould reckon, for I marked all upon the post still: I say, it was the\nsixteenth of May that it blew a very great storm of wind all day, with\na great deal of lightning and thunder, and a very foul night it was\nafter it. I know not what was the particular occasion of it, but as\nI was reading in the Bible, and taken up with very serious thoughts\nabout my present condition, I was surprised with a noise of a gun, as I\nthought, fired at sea.\nThis was, to be sure, a surprise of a quite different nature from any\nI had met with before; for the notions this put into my thoughts were\nquite of another kind. I started up in the greatest haste imaginable,\nand, in a trice, clapped my ladder to the middle place of the rock, and\npulled it after me; and mounting it the second time, got to the top of\nthe hill the very moment that flash of fire bid me listen for a second\ngun, which accordingly, in about half a minute, I heard; and, by the\nsound, knew that it was from that part of the sea where I was driven\ndown the current in my boat.\nI immediately considered that this must be some ship in distress, and\nthat they had some comrade, or some other ship in company, and fired\nthese guns for signals of distress, and to obtain help. I had this\npresence of mind, at that minute, as to think that though I could not\nhelp them, it may be they might help me; so I brought together all the\ndry wood I could get at hand, and, making a good handsome pile, I set\nit on fire upon the hill. The wood was dry, and blazed freely; and\nthough the wind blew very hard, yet it burnt fairly out; so that I was\ncertain, if there was any such thing as a ship, they must needs see it,\nand no doubt they did; for as soon as ever my fire blazed up I heard\nanother gun, and after that several others, all from the same quarter.\nI plied my fire all night long till day broke; and when it was broad\nday, and the air cleared up, I saw something at a great distance at\nsea, full east of the island, whether a sail or a hull I could not\ndistinguish, no, not with my glasses, the distance was so great, and\nthe weather still something hazy also; at least it was so out at sea.\nI looked frequently at it all that day, and soon perceived that it did\nnot move; so I presently concluded that it was a ship at an anchor. And\nbeing eager, you may be sure, to be satisfied, I took my gun in my hand\nand ran toward the south side of the island, to the rocks where I had\nformerly been carried away with the current; and getting up there, the\nweather by this time being perfectly clear, I could plainly see, to my\ngreat sorrow, the wreck of a ship, cast away in the night upon those\nconcealed rocks which I found when I was out in my boat; and which\nrocks, as they checked the violence of the stream, and made a kind of\ncounter-stream or eddy, were the occasion of my recovering from the\nmost desperate, hopeless condition that ever I had been in in all my\nlife.\nThus, what is one man\u2019s safety is another man\u2019s destruction; for it\nseems these men, whoever they were, being out of their knowledge, and\nthe rocks being wholly under water, had been driven upon them in the\nnight, the wind blowing hard at E. and E.N.E. Had they seen the island,\nas I must necessarily suppose they did not, they must, as I thought,\nhave endeavored to have saved themselves on shore by the help of their\nboat; but their firing of guns for help, especially when they saw, as I\nimagined, my fire, filled me with many thoughts. First, I imagined that\nupon seeing my light, they might have put themselves into their boat,\nand have endeavored to make the shore; but that the sea going very\nhigh, they might have been cast away. Other times I imagined that they\nmight have lost their boat before, as might be the case many ways; as,\nparticularly, by the breaking of the sea upon their ship, which many\ntimes obliges men to stave, or take in pieces their boat, and sometimes\nto throw it overboard with their own hands.\nOther times I imagined they had some other ship or ships in company,\nwho, upon the signals of distress they had made, had taken them up and\ncarried them off. Other times I fancied they were all gone off to sea\nin their boat, and being hurried away by the current that I had been\nformerly in, were carried out into the great ocean, where there was\nnothing but misery and perishing; and that, perhaps, they might by this\ntime think of starving, and of being in a condition to eat one another.\nAs all these were but conjectures at best, so, in the condition I was\nin, I could do no more than look on upon the misery of the poor men,\nand pity them; which had still this good effect on my side, that it\ngave me more and more cause to give thanks to God, who had so happily\nand comfortably provided for me in my desolate condition; and that\nof two ships\u2019 companies who were now cast away upon this part of the\nworld, not one life should be spared but mine. I learned here again\nto observe, that it is very rare that the providence of God casts us\ninto any condition of life so low, or any misery so great, but we may\nsee something or other to be thankful for, and may see others in worse\ncircumstances than our own.\nSuch certainly was the case of these men, of whom I could not so much\nas see room to suppose any of them were saved. Nothing could make it\nrational so much as to wish or expect that they did not all perish\nthere, except the possibility only of their being taken up by another\nship in company; and this was but mere possibility indeed, for I saw\nnot the least sign or appearance of any such thing.\nI cannot explain, by any possible energy of words, what a strange\nlonging or hankering of desires I felt in my soul upon this sight,\nbreaking out sometimes thus: \u201cOh that there had been but one or two,\nnay, or but one soul, saved out of this ship, to have escaped to me,\nthat I might but have had one companion, one fellow-creature, to have\nspoken to me, and to have conversed with!\u201d In all the time of my\nsolitary life, I never felt so earnest, so strong a desire after the\nsociety of my fellow-creatures, or so deep a regret at the want of it.\nCHAPTER XXI\n_He Visits the Wreck and Obtains many Stores from it--Again Thinks of\nQuitting the Island--Has a Remarkable Dream_\nThere are some secret moving springs in the affections which, when they\nare set agoing by some object in view, or be it some object, though not\nin view, yet rendered present to the mind by the power of imagination,\nthat motion carries out the soul by its impetuosity to such violent,\neager embracings of the object, that the absence of it is insupportable.\nSuch were these earnest wishings that but one man had been saved! \u201cOh\nthat it had been but one!\u201d I believe I repeated the words a thousand\ntimes; and the desires were so moved by it, that when I spoke the\nwords my hands would clinch together, and my fingers press the palms\nof my hands, that if I had had any soft thing in my hand, it would\nhave crushed it involuntarily; and my teeth in my head would strike\ntogether, and set against one another so strong, that for some time I\ncould not part them again.\nLet the naturalists explain these things, and the reason and manner of\nthem. All I can say to them is to describe the fact, which was even\nsurprising to me when I found it, though I knew not from what it should\nproceed. It was doubtless the effect of ardent wishes, and of strong\nideas formed in my mind, realising the comfort which the conversation\nof one of my fellow-Christians would have been to me.\nBut it was not to be. Either their fate or mine, or both, forbid it;\nfor, till the last year of my being on this island, I never knew\nwhether any were saved out of that ship or no; and had only the\naffliction, some days after, to see the corpse of a drowned boy come\non shore at the end of the island which was next the shipwreck. He had\non no clothes but a seaman\u2019s waistcoat, a pair of open-kneed linen\ndrawers, and a blue linen shirt; but nothing to direct me so much as\nto guess what nation he was of. He had nothing in his pocket but two\npieces of eight and a tobacco-pipe. The last was to me of ten times\nmore value than the first.\nIt was now calm, and I had a great mind to venture out in my boat to\nthis wreck, not doubting but I might find something on board that\nmight be useful to me. But that did not altogether press me so much\nas the possibility that there might be yet some living creature on\nboard, whose life I might not only save, but might, by saving that\nlife, comfort my own to the last degree. And this thought clung so to\nmy heart, that I could not be quiet night nor day, but I must venture\nout in my boat on board this wreck; and committing the rest to God\u2019s\nprovidence, I thought, the impression was so strong upon my mind\nthat it could not be resisted, that it must come from some invisible\ndirection, and that I should be wanting to myself if I did not go.\nUnder the power of this impression, I hastened back to my castle,\nprepared everything for my voyage, took a quantity of bread, a great\npot for fresh water, a compass to steer by, a bottle of rum (for I had\nstill a great deal of that left), a basket full of raisins. And thus,\nloading myself with everything necessary, I went down to my boat, got\nthe water out of her, and got her afloat, loaded all my cargo in her,\nand then went home again for more. My second cargo was a great bag\nfull of rice, the umbrella to set up over my head for shade, another\nlarge pot full of fresh water, and about two dozen of my small loaves,\nor barley-cakes, more than before, with a bottle of goat\u2019s milk and\na cheese; all of which, with great labor and sweat, I brought to my\nboat. And praying to God to direct my voyage, I put out; and rowing,\nor paddling, the canoe along the shore, I came at last to the utmost\npoint of the island on that side, viz., N.E. And now I was to launch\nout into the ocean, and either to venture or not to venture. I looked\non the rapid currents which ran constantly on both sides of the island\nat a distance, and which were very terrible to me, from the remembrance\nof the hazard I had been in before, and my heart began to fail me; for\nI foresaw that if I was driven into either of those currents, I should\nbe carried a vast way out to sea, and perhaps out of my reach, or sight\nof the island again; and that then, as my boat was but small, if any\nlittle gale of wind should rise, I should be inevitably lost.\nThese thoughts so oppressed my mind, that I began to give over my\nenterprise; and having hauled my boat into a little creek on the shore,\nI stepped out, and sat me down upon a little rising bit of ground, very\npensive and anxious, between fear and desire, about my voyage; when, as\nI was musing, I could perceive that the tide was turned, and the flood\ncome on; upon which my going was for so many hours impracticable. Upon\nthis, presently it occurred to me that I should go up to the highest\npiece of ground I could find and observe, if I could, how the sets of\nthe tide, or currents, lay when the flood came in, that I might judge\nwhether, if I was driven one way out, I might not expect to be driven\nanother way home, with the same rapidness of the currents. This thought\nwas no sooner in my head but I cast my eye upon a little hill, which\nsufficiently overlooked the sea both ways, and from whence I had a\nclear view of the currents, or sets of the tide, and which way I was\nto guide myself in my return. Here I found, that as the current of the\nebb set out close by the south point of the island, so the current of\nthe flood set in close by the shore of the north side; and that I had\nnothing to do but to keep to the north of the island in my return, and\nI should do well enough.\nEncouraged with this observation, I resolved the next morning to set\nout with the first of the tide, and reposing myself for the night in\nthe canoe, under the great watch-coat I mention, I launched out. I\nmade first a little out to sea, full north, till I began to feel the\nbenefit of the current which set eastward, and which carried me at a\ngreat rate; and yet did not so hurry me as the southern side current\nhad done before, and so as to take from me all government of the boat;\nbut having a strong steerage with my paddle, I went at a great rate\ndirectly for the wreck, and in less than two hours I came up to it.\nIt was a dismal sight to look at. The ship, which, by its building,\nwas Spanish, stuck fast, jammed in between two rocks. All the stern\nand quarter of her was beaten to pieces with the sea; and as her\nforecastle, which stuck in the rocks, had run on with great violence,\nher mainmast and foremast were brought by the board; that is to say,\nbroken short off; but her bowsprit was sound, and the head and bow\nappeared firm. When I came close to her a dog appeared upon her, who,\nseeing me coming, yelped and cried; and as soon as I called him, jumped\ninto the sea to come to me, and I took him into the boat, but found him\nalmost dead for hunger and thirst. I gave him a cake of my bread, and\nhe ate it like a ravenous wolf that had been starving a fortnight in\nthe snow. I then gave the poor creature some fresh water, with which,\nif I would have let him, he would have burst himself.\nAfter this I went on board; but the first sight I met with was two men\ndrowned in the cook-room, or forecastle of the ship, with their arms\nfast about one another. I concluded, as is indeed probable, that when\nthe ship struck, it being in a storm, the sea broke so high, and so\ncontinually over her, that the men were not able to bear it, and were\nstrangled with the constant rushing in of the water, as much as if\nthey had been under water. Besides the dog, there was nothing left in\nthe ship that had life; nor any goods that I could see, but what were\nspoiled by the water. There were some casks of liquor, whether wine or\nbrandy I knew not, which lay lower in the hold, and which, the water\nbeing ebbed out, I could see; but they were too big to meddle with. I\nsaw several chests which I believed belonged to some of the seamen; and\nI got two of them into the boat, without examining what was in them.\nHad the stern of the ship been fixed, and the forepart broken off, I am\npersuaded I might have made a good voyage; for by what I found in these\ntwo chests, I had room to suppose the ship had a great deal of wealth\non board; and if I may guess by the course she steered, she must have\nbeen bound from the Buenos Ayres, or the Rio de la Plata, in the south\npart of America, beyond the Brazils, to Havana, in the Gulf of Mexico,\nand so perhaps to Spain. She had, no doubt, a great treasure in her,\nbut of no use, at that time, to anybody; and what became of the rest of\nher people, I then knew not.\nI found, besides these chests, a little cask full of liquor, of about\ntwenty gallons, which I got into my boat with much difficulty. There\nwere several muskets in a cabin, and a great powder-horn, with about\nfour pounds of powder in it. As for the muskets, I had no occasion for\nthem, so I left them, but took the powder-horn. I took a fire-shovel\nand tongs, which I wanted extremely; as also two little brass kettles,\na copper pot to make chocolate, and a gridiron. And with this cargo,\nand the dog, I came away, the tide beginning to make home again; and\nthe same evening, about an hour within night, I reached the island\nagain, weary and fatigued to the last degree.\nI reposed that night in the boat; and in the morning I resolved to\nharbor what I had gotten in my new cave, not to carry it home to my\ncastle. After refreshing myself, I got all my cargo on shore, and began\nto examine the particulars. The cask of liquor I found to be a kind of\nrum, but not such as we had at the Brazils, and, in a word, not at all\ngood. But when I came to open the chests, I found several things of\ngreat use to me. For example, I found in one a fine case of bottles,\nof an extraordinary kind, and filled with cordial waters, fine, and\nvery good; the bottles held about three pints each, and were tipped\nwith silver. I found two pots of very good succades, or sweetmeats, so\nfastened also on top, that the salt water had not hurt them; and two\nmore of the same, which the water had spoiled. I found some very good\nshirts, which were very welcome to me; and about a dozen and half of\nlinen white handkerchiefs and colored neck-cloths. The former were also\nvery welcome, being exceeding refreshing to wipe my face on a hot day.\nBesides this, when I came to the till in the chest, I found there three\ngreat bags of pieces of eight, which held out about eleven hundred\npieces in all; and in one of them, wrapped up in a paper, six doubloons\nof gold, and some small bars or wedges of gold. I suppose they might\nall weigh near a pound.\nThe other chest I found had some clothes in it, but of little value;\nbut by the circumstances, it must have belonged to the gunner\u2019s mate;\nthough there was no powder in it, but about two pounds of fine glazed\npowder, in three small flasks, kept, I suppose, for charging their\nfowling-pieces on occasion. Upon the whole, I got very little by\nthis voyage that was of any use to me; for as to the money, I had no\nmanner of occasion for it; \u2019twas to me as the dirt under my feet; and\nI would have given it all for three or four pair of English shoes and\nstockings, which were things I greatly wanted, but had not had on my\nfeet now for many years. I had indeed gotten two pair of shoes now,\nwhich I took off of the feet of the two drowned men whom I saw in the\nwreck, and I found two pair more in one of the chests which were very\nwelcome to me; but they were not like our English shoes, either for\nease or service, being rather what we call pumps than shoes. I found in\nthis seaman\u2019s chest about fifty pieces of eight in royals, but no gold.\nI suppose this belonged to a poorer man than the other, which seemed to\nbelong to some officer.\nWell, however, I lugged this money home to my cave, and laid it up, as\nI had done that before which I brought from our own ship; but it was\ngreat pity, as I said, that the other part of this ship had not come to\nmy share, for I am satisfied I might have loaded my canoe several times\nover with money, which, if I had ever escaped to England, would have\nlain here safe enough till I might have come again and fetched it.\nHaving now brought all my things on shore, and secured them, I went\nback to my boat, and rowed or paddled her along the shore to her old\nharbor, where I laid her up, and made the best of my way to my old\nhabitation, where I found everything safe and quiet. So I began to\nrepose myself, live after my old fashion, and take care of my family\naffairs; and, for a while, I lived easy enough, only that I was more\nvigilant than I used to be, looked out oftener, and did not go abroad\nso much; and if at any time I did stir with any freedom, it was always\nto the east part of the island, where I was pretty well satisfied the\nsavages never came and where I could go without so many precautions,\nand such a load of arms and ammunition as I always carried with me if I\nwent the other way.\nI lived in this condition near two years more; but my unlucky head,\nthat was always to let me know it was born to make my body miserable,\nwas all this two years filled with projects and designs, how, if it\nwere possible, I might get away from this island; for sometimes I was\nfor making another voyage to the wreck, though my reason told me that\nthere was nothing left there worth the hazard of my voyage; sometimes\nfor a ramble one way, sometimes another; and I believe verily, if I had\nhad the boat that I went from Sallee in, I should have ventured to sea,\nbound anywhere, I knew not whither.\nI have been, in all my circumstances, a memento to those who are\ntouched with the general plague of mankind, whence, for aught I know\none-half of their miseries flow; I mean, that of not being satisfied\nwith the station wherein God and Nature has placed them; for now to\nlook back upon my primitive condition, and the excellent advice of my\nfather, the opposition to which was, as I may call it, my _original\nsin_, my subsequent mistakes of the same kind had been the means of\nmy coming into this miserable condition; for had that Providence,\nwhich so happily had seated me at the Brazils as a planter, blessed me\nwith confined desires, and I could have been contented to have gone\non gradually, I might have been, by this time, I mean in the time of\nmy being in this island, one of the most considerable planters in the\nBrazils; nay, I am persuaded that by the improvements I had made in\nthat little time I lived there, and the increase I should probably\nhave made if I had stayed, I might have been worth an hundred thousand\nmoidores. And what business had I to leave a settled fortune, a\nwell-stocked plantation, improving and increasing, to turn supercargo\nto Guinea to fetch negroes, when patience and time would have so\nincreased our stock at home, that we could have bought them at our own\ndoor from those whose business it was to fetch them; and though it had\ncost us something more, yet the difference of that price was by no\nmeans worth saving at so great a hazard.\nBut as this is ordinarily the fate of young heads, so reflection upon\nthe folly of it is as ordinarily the exercise of more years, or of\nthe dear-bought experience of time; and so it was with me now. And\nyet, so deep had the mistake taken root in my temper, that I could\nnot satisfy myself in my station, but was continually poring upon the\nmeans and possibility of my escape from this place. And that I may,\nwith the greater pleasure to the reader, bring on the remaining part\nof my story, it may not be improper to give some account of my first\nconceptions on the subject of this foolish scheme for my escape, and\nhow, and upon what foundation, I acted.\nI am now to be supposed retired into my castle, after my late voyage to\nthe wreck, my frigate laid up and secured under water, as usual, and my\ncondition restored to what it was before. I had more wealth, indeed,\nthan I had before, but was not at all the richer; for I had no more use\nfor it than the Indians of Peru had before the Spaniards came there.\nIt was one of the nights in the rainy season in March, the four and\ntwentieth year of my first setting foot in this island of solitariness.\nI was lying in my bed, or hammock, awake, very well in health, had no\npain, no distemper, no uneasiness of body, no, nor any uneasiness of\nmind, more than ordinary, but could by no means close my eyes, that\nis, so as to sleep; no, not a wink all night long, otherwise than as\nfollows.\nIt is as impossible, as needless, to set down the innumerable crowd of\nthoughts that whirled through that great thoroughfare of the brain, the\nmemory, in this night\u2019s time. I ran over the whole history of my life\nin miniature, or by abridgment, as I may call it, to my coming to this\nisland, and also of the part of my life since I came to this island. In\nmy reflections upon the state of my case since I came on shore on this\nisland, I was comparing the happy posture of my affairs in the first\nyears of my habitation here compared to the life of anxiety, fear, and\ncare which I had lived ever since I had seen the print of a foot in the\nsand; not that I did not believe the savages had frequented the island\neven all the while, and might have been several hundreds of them at\ntimes on shore there; but I had never know it, and was incapable of any\napprehensions about it. My satisfaction was perfect, though my danger\nwas the same; and I was as happy in not knowing my danger, as if I had\nnever really been exposed to it. This furnished my thoughts with many\nvery profitable reflections, and particularly this one: how infinitely\ngood that Providence is which has provided, in its government of\nmankind, such narrow bounds to his sight and knowledge of things; and\nthough he walks in the midst of so many thousand dangers, the sight\nof which, if discovered to him, would distract his mind and sink his\nspirits, he is kept serene and calm, by having the events of things hid\nfrom his eyes, and knowing nothing of the dangers which surround him.\nAfter these thoughts had for some time entertained me, I came to\nreflect seriously upon the real danger I had been in for so many\nyears in this very island, and how I had walked about in the greatest\nsecurity, and with all possible tranquillity, even when perhaps nothing\nbut a brow of a hill, a great tree, or the casual approach of night\nhad been between me and the worst kind of destruction, viz., that\nof falling into the hands of cannibals and savages, who would have\nseized on me with the same view as I did of a goat or a turtle, and\nhave thought it no more a crime to kill and devour me, than I did of\na pigeon or a curlew. I would unjustly slander myself if I should say\nI was not sincerely thankful to my great Preserver, to whose singular\nprotection I acknowledged, with great humility, that all these unknown\ndeliverances were due, and without which I must inevitably have fallen\ninto their merciless hands.\nWhen these thoughts were over, my head was for some time taken up in\nconsidering the nature of these wretched creatures, I mean the savages,\nand how it came to pass in the world that the wise Governor of all\nthings should give up any of His creatures to such inhumanity; nay, to\nsomething so much below even brutality itself, as to devour its own\nkind. But as this ended in some (at that time fruitless) speculations,\nit occurred to me to inquire what part of the world these wretches\nlived in? how far off the coast was from whence they came? what they\nventured over so far from home for? what kind of boats they had? and\nwhy I might not order myself and my business so, that I might be as\nable to go over thither, as they were to come to me.\nI never so much as troubled myself to consider what I should do with\nmyself when I came thither; what would become of me, if I fell into\nthe hands of the savages; or how I should escape from them, if they\nattempted me; no, nor so much as how it was possible for me to reach\nthe coast, and not be attempted by some or other of them, without\nany possibility of delivering myself; and if I should not fall into\ntheir hands, what I should do for provision; or whither I should bend\nmy course. None of these thoughts, I say, so much as came in my way;\nbut my mind was wholly bent upon the notion of my passing over in my\nboat to the mainland. I looked back upon my present condition as the\nmost miserable that could possibly be; that I was not able to throw\nmyself into anything, but death, that could be called worse; that if I\nreached the shore of the main, I might perhaps meet with relief, or I\nmight coast along, as I did on the shore of Africa, till I came to some\ninhabited country, and where I might find some relief; and after all,\nperhaps I might fall in with some Christian ship that might take me in;\nand if the worse came to the worst, I could but die, which would put an\nend to all these miseries at once. Pray, note, all this was the fruit\nof a disturbed mind, an impatient temper, made as it were desperate\nby the long continuance of my troubles, and the disappointments I had\nmet in the wreck I had been on board of, and where I had been so near\nthe obtaining what I so earnestly longed for, viz., somebody to speak\nto, and to learn some knowledge from of the place where I was, and of\nthe probable means of my deliverance. I say, I was agitated wholly by\nthese thoughts. All my calm of mind, in my resignation to Providence,\nand waiting the issue of the dispositions of Heaven, seemed to be\nsuspended; and I had, as it were, no power to turn my thoughts to\nanything but to the project of a voyage to the main, which came upon me\nwith such force, and such an impetuosity of desire, that it was not to\nbe resisted.\nWhen this had agitated my thoughts for two hours, or more, with such\nviolence that it set my very blood into a ferment, and my pulse beat\nas high as if I had been in a fever, merely with the extraordinary\nfervor of my mind about it, Nature, as if I had been fatigued and\nexhausted with the very thought of it, threw me into a sound sleep. One\nwould have thought I should have dreamed of it, but I did not, nor of\nanything relating to it; but I dreamed that as I was going out in the\nmorning, as usual, from my castle, I saw upon the shore two canoes and\neleven savages coming to land, and that they brought with them another\nsavage, whom they were going to kill in order to eat him; when, on a\nsudden, the savage that they were going to kill jumped away, and ran\nfor his life. And I thought, in my sleep, that he came running into my\nlittle thick grove before my fortification to hide himself; and that I,\nseeing him alone, and not perceiving that the others sought him that\nway, showed myself to him, and smiling upon him, encouraged him; that\nhe kneeled down to me, seeming to pray me to assist him; upon which I\nshowed my ladder, made him go up, and carried him into my cave, and he\nbecame my servant; and that as soon as I had gotten this man, I said to\nmyself, \u201cNow I may certainly venture to the mainland; for this fellow\nwill serve me as a pilot, and will tell me what to do, and whither to\ngo for provisions, and whither not to go for fear of being devoured;\nwhat places to venture into, and what to escape.\u201d I waked with this\nthought, and was under such inexpressible impressions of joy at the\nprospect of my escape in my dream, that the disappointments which I\nfelt upon coming to myself and finding it was no more than a dream\nwere equally extravagant the other way, and threw me into a very great\ndejection of spirit.\nUpon this, however, I made this conclusion; that my only way to go\nabout an attempt for an escape was, if possible, to get a savage into\nmy possession; and, if possible, it should be one of their prisoners\nwhom they had condemned to be eaten, and should bring thither to kill.\nBut these thoughts still were attended with this difficulty, that it\nwas impossible to effect this without attacking a whole caravan of\nthem, and killing them all; and this was not only a very desperate\nattempt, and might miscarry, but, on the other hand, I had greatly\nscrupled the lawfulness of it to me; and my heart trembled at the\nthoughts of shedding so much blood, though it was for my deliverance.\nI need not repeat the arguments which occurred to me against this,\nthey being the same mentioned before. But though I had other reasons\nto offer now, viz., that those men were enemies to my life, and would\ndevour me if they could; that it was self-preservation, in the highest\ndegree, to deliver myself from this death of a life, and was acting in\nmy own defence as much as if they were actually assaulting me, and the\nlike; I say, though these things argued for it, yet the thoughts of\nshedding human blood for my deliverance were very terrible to me, and\nsuch as I could by no means reconcile myself to a great while.\nHowever, at last, after many secret disputes with myself, and after\ngreat perplexities about it, for all these arguments, one way and\nanother, struggled in my head a long time, the eager prevailing desire\nof deliverance at length mastered all the rest, and I resolved, if\npossible, to get one of those savages into my hands, cost what it\nwould. My next thing then was to contrive how to do it, and this indeed\nwas very difficult to resolve on. But as I could pitch upon no probable\nmeans for it, so I resolved to put myself upon the watch, to see them\nwhen they came on shore, and leave the rest to the event, taking such\nmeasures as the opportunity should present, let be what would be.\nWith these resolutions in my thoughts, I set myself upon the scout as\noften as possible, and indeed so often, till I was heartily tired of\nit; for it was above a year and half that I waited; and for great part\nof that time went out to the west end, and to the south-west corner of\nthe island, almost every day, to see for canoes, but none appeared.\nThis was very discouraging, and began to trouble me much; though I\ncannot say that it did in this case, as it had done some time before\nthat, viz., wear off the edge of my desire to the thing. But the longer\nit seemed to be delayed, the more eager I was for it. In a word, I was\nnot at first so careful to shun the sight of these savages, and avoid\nbeing seen by them, as I was now eager to be upon them.\nBesides, I fancied myself able to manage one, nay, two or three\nsavages, if I had them, so as to make them entirely slaves to me, to do\nwhatever I should direct them, and to prevent their being able at any\ntime to do me any hurt. It was a great while that I pleased myself with\nthis affair; but nothing still presented. All my fancies and schemes\ncame to nothing, for no savages came near me for a great while.\nCHAPTER XXII\n_Robinson Rescues One of Their Captives from the Savages, Whom He Names\nFriday, and Makes His Servant_\nAbout a year and half after I had entertained these notions, and by\nlong musing had, as it were, resolved them all into nothing, for want\nof an occasion to put them in execution, I was surprised, one morning\nearly, with seeing no less than five canoes all on shore together on my\nside the island, and the people who belonged to them all landed, and\nout of my sight. The number of them broke all my measures; for seeing\nso many, and knowing that they always came four, or six, or sometimes\nmore, in a boat, I could not tell what to think of it, or how to take\nmy measures to attack twenty or thirty men single-handed; so I lay\nstill in my castle, perplexed and discomforted. However, I put myself\ninto all the same postures for an attack that I had formerly provided,\nand was just ready for action if anything had presented. Having waited\na good while, listening to hear if they made any noise, at length,\nbeing very impatient, I set my guns at the foot of my ladder, and\nclambered up to the top of the hill, by my two stages, as usual;\nstanding so, however, that my head did not appear above the hill, so\nthat they could not perceive me by any means. Here I observed, by the\nhelp of my perspective-glass, that they were no less than thirty in\nnumber, that they had a fire kindled, that they had had meat dressed.\nHow they had cooked it, that I knew not, or what it was; but they were\nall dancing, in I know not how many barbarous gestures and figures,\ntheir own way, round the fire.\nWhile I was thus looking on them, I perceived by my perspective two\nmiserable wretches dragged from the boats, where, it seems, they were\nlaid by, and were now brought out for the slaughter. I perceived one of\nthem immediately fell, being knocked down, I suppose, with a club or\nwooden sword, for that was their way, and two or three others were at\nwork immediately, cutting him open for their cookery, while the other\nvictim was left standing by himself, till they should be ready for\nhim. In that very moment this poor wretch seeing himself a little at\nliberty, Nature inspired him with hopes of life, and he started away\nfrom them, and ran with incredible swiftness along the sands directly\ntowards me, I mean towards that part of the coast where my habitation\nwas.\nI was dreadfully frightened (that I must acknowledge) when I perceived\nhim to run my way, and especially when, as I thought, I saw him pursued\nby the whole body; and now I expected that part of my dream was coming\nto pass, and that he would certainly take shelter in my grove; but\nI could not depend, by any means, upon my dream for the rest of it,\nviz., that the other savages would not pursue him thither, and find him\nthere. However, I kept my station, and my spirits began to recover when\nI found that there was not above three men that followed him; and still\nmore was I encouraged when I found that he outstripped them exceedingly\nin running, and gained ground of them; so that if he could but hold it\nfor half an hour, I saw easily he would fairly get away from them all.\nThere was between them and my castle the creek, which I mentioned often\nat the first part of my story, when I landed my cargoes out of the\nship; and this I saw plainly he must necessarily swim over, or the poor\nwretch would be taken there. But when the savage escaping came thither\nhe made nothing of it, though the tide was then up; but plunging in,\nswam through in about thirty strokes or thereabouts, landed, and ran\non with exceeding strength and swiftness. When the three persons came\nto the creek, I found that two of them could swim, but the third could\nnot, and that, standing on the other side, he looked at the other,\nbut went no farther, and soon after went softly back, which, as it\nhappened, was very well for him in the main.\nI observed, that the two who swam were yet more than twice as long\nswimming over the creek as the fellow was that fled from them. It came\nnow very warmly upon my thoughts, and indeed irresistibly, that now was\nmy time to get me a servant, and perhaps a companion or assistant, and\nthat I was called plainly by Providence to save this poor creature\u2019s\nlife. I immediately ran down the ladders with all possible expedition,\nfetched my two guns, for they were both but at the foot of the ladders,\nas I observed above, and getting up again, with the same haste, to the\ntop of the hill, I crossed toward the sea, and having a very short cut,\nand all down hill, clapped myself in the way between the pursuers and\nthe pursued, hallooing aloud to him that fled, who, looking back, was\nat first perhaps as much frightened at me as at them; and I beckoned\nwith my hand to him to come back; and, in the meantime, I slowly\nadvanced towards the two that followed; then rushing at once upon the\nforemost, I knocked him down with the stock of my piece. I was loth to\nfire, because I would not have the rest hear; though, at that distance,\nit would not have been easily heard, and being out of sight of the\nsmoke too, they would not have easily known what to make of it. Having\nknocked this fellow down, the other who pursued with him stopped, as if\nhe had been frightened, and I advanced apace towards him; but as I came\nnearer, I perceived presently he had a bow and arrow, and was fitting\nit to shoot at me; so I was then necessitated to shoot at him first,\nwhich I did, and killed him at the first shot.\nThe poor savage who fled, but had stopped, though he saw both his\nenemies fallen and killed, as he thought, yet was so frightened with\nthe fire and noise of my piece, that he stood stock-still, and neither\ncame forward nor went backward, though he seemed rather inclined to fly\nstill, than to come on.\nI hallooed again to him, and made signs to come forward, which he\neasily understood, and came a little way, then stopped again, and then\na little farther, and stopped again; and I could then perceive that he\nstood trembling, as if he had been taken prisoner, and had just been to\nbe killed, as his two enemies were. I beckoned him again to come to me,\nand gave him all the signs of encouragement that I could think of; and\nhe came nearer and nearer, kneeling down every ten or twelve steps, in\ntoken of acknowledgment for my saving his life. I smiled at him, and\nlooked pleasantly, and beckoned to him to come still nearer. At length\nhe came close to me, and then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground,\nand laid his head upon the ground, and taking me by the foot, set my\nfoot upon his head. This, it seems, was in token of swearing to be my\nslave for ever. I took him up, and made much of him, and encouraged him\nall I could. But there was more work to do yet; for I perceived the\nsavage whom I knocked down was not killed, but stunned with the blow,\nand began to come to himself; so I pointed to him, and showing him the\nsavage, that he was not dead, upon this he spoke some words to me; and\nthough I could not understand them, yet I thought they were pleasant to\nhear; for they were the first sound of a man\u2019s voice that I had heard,\nmy own excepted, for above twenty-five years. But there was no time for\nsuch reflections now. The savage who was knocked down recovered himself\nso far as to sit up upon the ground and I perceived that my savage\nbegan to be afraid; but when I saw that, I presented my other piece at\nthe man, as if I would shoot him. Upon this my savage, for so I call\nhim now, made a motion to me to lend him my sword, which hung naked in\na belt by my side; so I did. He no sooner had it but he runs to his\nenemy, and, at one blow, cut off his head as cleverly, no executioner\nin Germany could have done it sooner or better; which I thought very\nstrange for one who, I had reason to believe, never saw a sword in his\nlife before, except their own wooden swords. However, it seems, as I\nlearned afterwards, they make their wooden swords so sharp, so heavy,\nand the wood is so hard, that they will cut off heads even with\nthem, ay, and arms, and that at one blow too. When he had done this, he\ncame laughing to me in sign of triumph, and brought me the sword again,\nand with abundance of gestures, which I did not understand, laid it\ndown, with the head of the savage that he had killed, just before me.\n[Illustration: \u201c_--and then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground,\nand taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head_\u201d]\nBut that which astonished him most was to know how I had killed the\nother Indian so far off; so pointing to him, he made signs to me to\nlet him go to him; so I bade him go, as well as I could. When he came\nto him, he stood like one amazed, looking at him, turned him first on\none side, then on t\u2019other, looked at the wound the bullet had made,\nwhich, it seems, was just in his breast, where it had made a hole, and\nno great quantity of blood had followed; but he had bled inwardly, for\nhe was quite dead. He took up his bow and arrows, and came back; so I\nturned to go away, and beckoned to him to follow me making signs to him\nthat more might come after them.\nUpon this he signed to me that he should bury them with sand, that\nthey might not be seen by the rest if they followed; and so I made\nsigns again to him to do so. He fell to work, and in an instant he had\nscraped a hole in the sand with his hands big enough to bury the first\nin, and then dragged him into it, and covered him, and did so also by\nthe other. I believe he had buried them both in a quarter of an hour.\nThen calling him away, I carried him, not to my castle, but quite away\nto my cave, on the farther part of the island; so I did not let my\ndream come to pass in that part, viz., that he came into my grove for\nshelter.\nHere I gave him bread and a bunch of raisins to eat, and a draught\nof water, which I found he was indeed in great distress for, by his\nrunning; and having refreshed him, I made signs for him to go lie down\nand sleep, pointing to a place where I had laid a great parcel of\nrice-straw, and a blanket upon it, which I used to sleep upon myself\nsometimes; so the poor creature laid down, and went to sleep.\nHe was a comely, handsome fellow, perfectly well made, with straight\nstrong limbs, not too large, tall, and well-shaped, and, as I reckon,\nabout twenty-six years of age. He had a very good countenance, not a\nfierce and surly aspect, but seemed to have something very manly in\nhis face; and yet he had all the sweetness and softness of an European\nin his countenance too, especially when he smiled. His hair was long\nand black, not curled like wool; his forehead very high and large; and\na great vivacity and sparkling sharpness in his eyes. The color of\nhis skin was not quite black, but very tawny; and yet not of an ugly,\nyellow, nauseous tawny, as the Brazilians and Virginians, and other\nnatives of America are, but of a bright kind of a dun olive color, that\nhad in it something very agreeable, though not very easy to describe.\nHis face was round and plump; his nose small, not flat like the\nnegroes; a very good mouth, thin lips, and his fine teeth well set, and\nwhite as ivory.\nAfter he had slumbered, rather than slept, about half an hour, he\nwaked again, and came out of the cave to me, for I had been milking\nmy goats, which I had in the enclosure just by. When he espied me, he\ncame running to me, laying himself down again upon the ground, with\nall the possible signs of an humble, thankful disposition, making\nmany antic gestures to show it. At last he lays his head flat upon the\nground, close to my foot, and sets my other foot upon his head, as he\nhad done before, and after this made all the signs to me of subjection,\nservitude, and submission imaginable, to let me know how he would serve\nme as long as he lived. I understood him in many things, and let him\nknow I was very well pleased with him. In a little time I began to\nspeak to him, and teach him to speak to me; and, first, I made him know\nhis name should be Friday, which was the day I saved his life. I called\nhim so for the memory of the time. I likewise taught him to say master,\nand then let him know that was to be my name. I likewise taught him to\nsay Yes and No, and to know the meaning of them. I gave him some milk\nin an earthen pot, and let him see me drink it before him, and sop my\nbread in it; and I gave him a cake of bread to do the like, which he\nquickly complied with, and made signs that it was very good for him.\nI kept there with him all that night; but as soon as it was day, I\nbeckoned to him to come with me, and let him know I would give him\nsome clothes; at which he seemed very glad, for he was stark naked.\nAs we went by the place where he had buried the two men, he pointed\nexactly to the place, and showed me the marks that he had made to find\nthem again, making signs to me that we should dig them up again, and\neat them. At this I appeared very angry, expressed my abhorrence of\nit, made as if I would vomit at the thoughts of it, and beckoned with\nmy hand to him to come away; which he did immediately, with great\nsubmission. I then led him up to the top of the hill, to see if his\nenemies were gone; and pulling out my glass, I looked, and saw plainly\nthe place where they had been, but no appearance of them or of their\ncanoes; so that it was plain that they were gone, and had left their\ntwo comrades behind them, without any search after them.\nBut I was not content with this discovery; but having now more courage,\nand consequently more curiosity, I took my man Friday with me, giving\nhim the sword in his hand, with the bow and arrows at his back, which\nI found he could use very dexterously, making him carry one gun for\nme, and I two for myself, and away we marched to the place where\nthese creatures had been; for I had a mind now to get some fuller\nintelligence of them. When I came to the place, my very blood ran\nchill in my veins, and my heart sunk within me, at the horror of the\nspectacle. Indeed, it was a dreadful sight, at least it was so to me,\nthough Friday made nothing of it. The place was covered with human\nbones, the ground dyed with their blood, great pieces of flesh left\nhere and there, half-eaten, mangled, and scorched; and, in short,\nall the tokens of the triumphant feast they had been making there,\nafter a victory over their enemies. I saw three skulls, five hands,\nand the bones of three or four legs and feet, and abundance of other\nparts of the bodies; and Friday, by his signs, made me understand that\nthey brought over four prisoners to feast upon; that three of them\nwere eaten up, and that he, pointing to himself, was the fourth; that\nthere had been a great battle between them and their next king, whose\nsubjects it seems he had been one of, and that they had taken a great\nnumber of prisoners; all of which were carried to several places by\nthose that had taken them in the fight, in order to feast upon them, as\nwas done here by these wretches upon those they brought hither.\nI caused Friday to gather all the skulls, bones, flesh, and whatever\nremained, and lay them together on a heap, and make a great fire upon\nit, and burn them all to ashes. I found Friday had still a hankering\nstomach after some of the flesh, and was still a cannibal in his\nnature; but I discovered so much abhorrence at the very thoughts of it,\nand at the least appearance of it, that he durst not discover it; for I\nhad, by some means, let him know that I would kill him if he offered it.\nWhen we had done this we came back to our castle, and there I fell to\nwork for my man Friday; and, first of all, I gave him a pair of linen\ndrawers, which I had out of the poor gunner\u2019s chest I mentioned, and\nwhich I found in the wreck; and which, with a little alteration, fitted\nhim very well. Then I made him a jerkin of goat\u2019s skin, as well as my\nskill would allow, and I was now grown a tolerable good tailor; and I\ngave him a cap, which I had made of a hare-skin, very convenient and\nfashionable enough; and thus he was clothed for the present tolerably\nwell, and was mighty well pleased to see himself almost as well clothed\nas his master. It is true he went awkwardly in these things at first;\nwearing the drawers was very awkward to him, and the sleeves of the\nwaistcoat galled his shoulders, and the inside of his arms; but a\nlittle easing them where he complained they hurt him, and using himself\nto them, at length he took to them very well.\nThe next day after I came home to my hutch with him, I began to\nconsider where I should lodge him. And that I might do well for him,\nand yet be perfectly easy myself, I made a little tent for him in the\nvacant place between my two fortifications, in the inside of the last\nand in the outside of the first; and as there was a door or entrance\nthere into my cave, I made a formal framed door-case, and a door to it\nof boards, and set it up in the passage, a little within the entrance;\nand causing the door to open on the inside, I barred it up in the\nnight, taking in my ladders too; so that Friday could in no way come at\nme in the inside of my innermost wall without making so much noise in\ngetting over, that it must needs waken me; for my first wall had now a\ncomplete roof over it of long poles, covering all my tent, and leaning\nup to the side of the hill, which was again laid cross with smaller\nsticks instead of laths, and then thatched over a great thickness with\nthe rice-straw, which was strong, like reeds; and at the hole or place\nwhich was left to go in or out by the ladder, I had placed a kind of\ntrap-door, which, if it had been attempted on the outside, would not\nhave opened at all, but would have fallen down, and made a great noise;\nand as to weapons, I took them all into my side every night.\nBut I needed none of all this precaution; for never man had a more\nfaithful, loving, sincere servant than Friday was to me; without\npassions, sullenness, or designs, perfectly obliged and engaged; his\nvery affections were tied to me, like those of a child to a father;\nand I dare say he would have sacrificed his life for the saving mine,\nupon any occasion whatsoever. The many testimonies he gave me of this\nput it out of doubt, and soon convinced me that I needed to use no\nprecautions as to my safety on his account.\nThis frequently gave me occasion to observe, and that with wonder, that\nhowever it had pleased God, in His providence, and in the government\nof the works of His hands, to take from so great a part of the world\nof His creatures the best uses to which their faculties and the powers\nof their souls are adapted, yet that He has bestowed upon them the\nsame powers, the same reason, the same affections, the same sentiments\nof kindness and obligation, the same passions and resentments of\nwrongs, the same sense of gratitude, sincerity, fidelity, and all the\ncapacities of doing good, and receiving good, that He has given to us;\nand that when He pleases to offer to them occasions of exerting these,\nthey are as ready, nay, more ready, to apply them to the right uses for\nwhich they were bestowed than we are. And this made me very melancholy\nsometimes, in reflecting, as the several occasions presented, how\nmean a use we make of all these, even though we have these powers\nenlightened by the great lamp of instruction, the Spirit of God, and by\nthe knowledge of His Word added to our understanding; and why it has\npleased God to hide the life saving knowledge from so many millions of\nsouls, who, if I might judge by this poor savage, would make a much\nbetter use of it than we did.\nFrom hence, I sometimes was led too far to invade the sovereignty\nof Providence, and as it were arraign the justice of so arbitrary a\ndisposition of things, that should hide that light from some, and\nreveal it to others, and yet expect a like duty from both. But I shut\nit up, and checked my thoughts with this conclusion: first, that we\ndid not know by what light and law these should be condemned; but that\nas God was necessarily, and by the nature of His being, infinitely\nholy and just, so it could not be but that if these creatures were all\nsentenced to absence from Himself, it was on account of sinning against\nthat light, which, as the Scripture says, was a law to themselves, and\nby such rules as their consciences would acknowledge to be just, though\nthe foundation was not discovered to us; and, second, that still, as we\nare all the clay in the hand of the potter, no vessel could say to Him,\n\u201cWhy hast Thou formed me thus?\u201d\nBut to return to my new companion. I was greatly delighted with him,\nand made it my business to teach him everything that was proper to make\nhim useful, handy, and helpful; but especially to make him speak, and\nunderstand me when I spake. And he was the aptest scholar that ever\nwas; and particularly was so merry, so constantly diligent, and so\npleased when he could but understand me, or make me understand him,\nthat it was very pleasant to me to talk to him. And now my life began\nto be so easy, that I began to say to myself, that could I but have\nbeen safe from more savages, I cared not if I was never to remove from\nthe place while I lived.\nCHAPTER XXIII\n_Robinson Instructs and Civilizes His Man Friday and Endeavors to Give\nHim an Idea of Christianity_\nAfter I had been two or three days returned to my castle, I thought\nthat, in order to bring Friday off from his horrid way of feeding, and\nfrom the relish of a cannibal\u2019s stomach, I ought to let him taste other\nflesh; so I took him out with me one morning to the woods. I went,\nindeed, intending to kill a kid out of my own flock, and bring him\nhome and dress it; but as I was going, I saw a she-goat lying down in\nthe shade, and two young kids sitting by her. I caught hold of Friday.\n\u201cHold,\u201d says I, \u201cstand still,\u201d and made signs to him not to stir.\nImmediately I presented my piece, shot and killed one of the kids. The\npoor creature, who had, at a distance indeed, seen me kill the savage\nhis enemy, but did not know, or could imagine, how it was done, was\nsensibly surprised, trembled and shook, and looked so amazed, that I\nthought he would have sunk down. He did not see the kid I had shot at,\nor perceive I had killed it, but ripped up his waistcoat to feel if he\nwas not wounded; and, as I found presently, thought I was resolved to\nkill him; for he came and kneeled down to me, and embracing my knees,\nsaid a great many things I did not understand; but I could easily see\nthat the meaning was to pray me not to kill him.\nI soon found a way to convince him that I would do him no harm; and\ntaking him up by the hand, laughed at him, and pointing to the kid\nwhich I had killed, beckoned to him to run and fetch it, which he did;\nand while he was wondering, and looking to see how the creature was\nkilled, I loaded my gun again; and by and by I saw a great fowl, like\na hawk, sit upon a tree, within shot; so, to let Friday understand\na little what I would do, I called him to me again, pointing at the\nfowl, which was indeed a parrot, though I thought it had been a hawk;\nI say, pointing to the parrot, and to my gun, and to the ground under\nthe parrot, to let him see I would make it fall, I made him understand\nthat I would shoot and kill that bird. Accordingly I fired, and bade\nhim look, and immediately he saw the parrot fall. He stood like one\nfrightened again, notwithstanding all I had said to him; and I found he\nwas the more amazed, because he did not see me put anything into the\ngun, but thought that there must be some wonderful fund of death and\ndestruction in that thing, able to kill man, beast, bird, or anything\nnear or far off; and the astonishment this created in him was such as\ncould not wear off for a long time; and I believe, if I would have let\nhim, he would have worshipped me and my gun. As for the gun itself,\nhe would not so much as touch it for several days after; but would\nspeak to it, and talk to it, as if it had answered him, when he was by\nhimself; which, as I afterwards learned of him, was to desire it not to\nkill him.\nWell, after his astonishment was a little over at this, I pointed to\nhim to run and fetch the bird I had shot, which he did, but stayed\nsome time; for the parrot, not being quite dead, fluttered a good way\noff from the place where she fell. However, he found her, took her up,\nand brought her to me; and as I had perceived his ignorance about the\ngun before, I took this advantage to charge the gun again, and not let\nhim see me do it, that I might be ready for any other mark that might\npresent. But nothing more offered at that time; so I brought home the\nkid, and the same evening I took the skin off, and cut it out as well\nas I could; and having a pot for that purpose, I boiled or stewed some\nof the flesh, and made some very good broth; and after I had begun to\neat some, I gave some to my man, who seemed very glad of it, and liked\nit very well; but that which was strangest to him, was to see me eat\nsalt with it. He made a sign to me that the salt was not good to eat,\nand putting a little into his own mouth, he seemed to nauseate it, and\nwould spit and sputter at it, washing his mouth with fresh water after\nit. On the other hand, I took some meat in my mouth without salt, and I\npretended to spit and sputter for want of salt, as fast as he had done\nat the salt. But it would not do; he would never care for salt with his\nmeat or in his broth; at least, not a great while, and then but a very\nlittle.\nHaving thus fed him with boiled meat and broth, I was resolved to\nfeast him the next day with roasting a piece of the kid. This I did by\nhanging it before the fire in a string, as I had seen many people do in\nEngland, setting two poles up, one on each side of the fire, and one\ncross on the top, and tying the string to the cross stick, letting the\nmeat turn continually.\nThis Friday admired very much. But when he came to taste the flesh, he\ntook so many ways to tell me how well he liked it, that I could not but\nunderstand him; and at last he told me he would never eat man\u2019s flesh\nany more, which I was very glad to hear.\nThe next day I set him to work to beating some corn out, and sifting\nit in the manner I used to do, as I observed before; and he soon\nunderstood how to do it as well as I, especially after he had seen what\nthe meaning of it was, and that it was to make bread of; for after that\nI let him see me make my bread, and bake it too; and in a little time\nFriday was able to do all the work for me, as well as I could do it\nmyself.\nI began now to consider that, having two mouths to feed instead of one,\nI must provide more ground for my harvest, and plant a larger quantity\nof corn than I used to do; so I marked out a larger piece of land, and\nbegan the fence in the same manner as before, in which Friday not only\nworked very willingly and very hard, but did it very cheerfully; and\nI told him what it was for; that it was for corn to make more bread,\nbecause he was now with me, and that I might have enough for him and\nmyself too. He appeared very sensible of that part, and let me know\nthat he thought I had much more labor upon me on his account, than I\nhad for myself; and that he would work the harder for me, if I would\ntell him what to do.\nThis was the pleasantest year of all the life I led in this place.\nFriday began to talk pretty well, and understand the names of almost\neverything I had occasion to call for, and of every place I had to send\nhim to, and talk a great deal to me; so that, in short, I began now to\nhave some use for my tongue again, which, indeed, I had very little\noccasion for before, that is to say, about speech. Besides the pleasure\nof talking to him, I had a singular satisfaction in the fellow himself.\nHis simple, unfeigned honesty appeared to me more and more every day,\nand I began really to love the creature; and, on his side, I believed\nhe loved me more than it was possible for him ever to love anything\nbefore.\nI had a mind once to try if he had any hankering inclination for his\nown country again; and having taught him English so well that he could\nanswer me almost any questions, I asked him whether the nation that he\nbelonged to never conquered in battle? At which he smiled, and said,\n\u201cYes, yes, we always fight the better\u201d; that is, he meant, always get\nthe better in fight; and so we began the following discourse: \u201cYou\nalways fight the better,\u201d said I. \u201cHow came you to be taken prisoner\nthen, Friday?\u201d\n_Friday._ My nation beat much for all that.\n_Master._ How beat? If your nation beat them, how came you to be taken?\n_Friday._ They more many than my nation in the place where me was; they\ntake one, two, three, and me. My nation overbeat them in the yonder\nplace, where me no was: there my nation take one, two, great thousand.\n_Master._ But why did not your side recover you from the hands of your\nenemies then?\n_Friday._ They run one, two, three and me, and make go in the canoe; my\nnation have no canoe that time.\n_Master._ Well, Friday, and what does your nation do with the men they\ntake? Do they carry them away and eat them, as these did?\n_Friday._ Yes, my nation eat mans too; eat all up.\n_Master._ Where do they carry them?\n_Friday._ Go to other place, where they think.\n_Master._ Do they come hither?\n_Friday._ Yes, yes, they come hither; come other else place.\n_Master._ Have you been here with them?\n_Friday._ Yes, I been here. (_Points to the N.W. side of the island,\nwhich, it seems, was their side._)\nBy this I understood that my man Friday had formerly been among the\nsavages who used to come on shore on the farther part of the island, on\nthe same man-eating occasions that he was now brought for; and, some\ntime after, when I took the courage to carry him to that side, being\nthe same I formerly mentioned, he presently knew the place, and told\nme he was there once when they ate up twenty men, two women, and one\nchild. He could not tell twenty in English, but he numbered them by\nlaying so many stones in a row, and pointing to me to tell them over.\nI have told this passage, because it introduces what follows; that\nafter I had had this discourse with him, I asked him how far it was\nfrom our island to the shore, and whether the canoes were not often\nlost. He told me there was no danger, no canoes ever lost; but that,\nafter a little way out to the sea, there was a current and a wind,\nalways one way in the morning, the other in the afternoon.\nThis I understood to be no more than the sets of the tide, as going\nout or coming in; but I afterwards understood it was occasioned by the\ngreat draught and reflux of the mighty river Orinoco, in the mouth or\nthe gulf of which river, as I found afterwards, our island lay; and\nthis land which I perceived to the W. and N.W. was the great island\nTrinidad, on the north point of the mouth of the river. I asked Friday\na thousand questions about the country, the inhabitants, the sea, the\ncoast, and what nations were near. He told me all he knew, with the\ngreatest openness imaginable. I asked him the names of the several\nnations of his sort of people, but could get no other name than Caribs;\nfrom whence I easily understood that these were the Caribbees, which\nour maps place on the part of America which reaches from the mouth of\nthe river Orinoco to Guiana, and onwards to St. Martha. He told me that\nup a great way beyond the moon, that was, beyond the setting of the\nmoon, which must be W. from their country, there dwelt white-bearded\nmen, like me, and pointed to my great whiskers, which I mentioned\nbefore; and that they had killed much mans, that was his word; by all\nwhich I understood he meant the Spaniards, whose cruelties in America\nhad been spread over the whole countries, and was remembered by all the\nnations from father to son.\nI inquired if he could tell me how I might come from this island and\nget among those white men. He told me, \u201cYes, yes, I might go in two\ncanoe.\u201d I could not understand what he meant, or make him describe to\nme what he meant by two canoe; till at last, with great difficulty, I\nfound he meant it must be in a large great boat, as big as two canoes.\nThis part of Friday\u2019s discourse began to relish with me very well; and\nfrom this time I entertained some hopes that, one time or other, I\nmight find an opportunity to make my escape from this place, and that\nthis poor savage might be a means to help me to do it.\nDuring the long time that Friday had now been with me, and that he\nbegan to speak to me, and understand me, I was not wanting to lay a\nfoundation of religious knowledge in his mind; particularly I asked him\none time, Who made him? The poor creature did not understand me at all,\nbut thought I had asked who was his father. But I took it by another\nhandle, and asked him who made the sea, the ground we walked on, and\nthe hills and woods? He told me it was one old Benamuckee, that lived\nbeyond all. He could describe nothing of this great person, but that he\nwas very old, much older, he said, than the sea or the land, than the\nmoon or the stars. I asked him then, if this old person had made all\nthings, why did not all things worship him? He looked very grave, and\nwith a perfect look of innocence said, \u201cAll things do say O to him.\u201d\nI asked him if the people who die in his country went away anywhere?\nHe said, \u201cYes, they all went to Benamuckee.\u201d Then I asked him whether\nthese they ate up went thither too? He said \u201cYes.\u201d\nFrom these things I began to instruct him in the knowledge of the true\nGod. I told him that the great Maker of all things lived up there,\npointing up towards heaven; that He governs the world by the same power\nand providence by which He made it; that He was omnipotent, could do\neverything for us, give everything to us, take everything from us; and\nthus, by degrees, I opened his eyes. He listened with great attention,\nand received with pleasure the notion of Jesus Christ being sent to\nredeem us, and of the manner of making our prayers to God, and His\nbeing able to hear us, even into heaven. He told me one day that if our\nGod could hear us up beyond the sun, He must needs be a greater God\nthan their Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off, and yet could\nnot hear till they went up to the great mountains where he dwelt to\nspeak to him. I asked him if he ever went thither to speak to him? He\nsaid, No; they never went that were young men; none went thither but\nthe old men, whom he called their Oowokakee, that is, as I made him\nexplain it to me, their religious, or clergy; and that they went to\nsay O (so he called saying prayers), and then came back, and told them\nwhat Benamuckee said. But this I observed that there is priestcraft\neven amongst the most blinded, ignorant pagans in the world; and the\npolicy of making a secret religion in order to preserve the veneration\nof the people to the clergy is not only to be found in the Roman, but\nperhaps among all religions in the world, even among the most brutish\nand barbarous savages.\nI endeavored to clear up this fraud to my man Friday, and told him that\nthe pretense of their old men going up to the mountains to say O to\ntheir god Benamuckee was a cheat, and their bringing word from thence\nwhat he said was much more so; that if they met with any answer, or\nspoke with any one there, it must be with an evil spirit; and then I\nentered into a long discourse with him about the devil, the original\nof him, his rebellion against God, his enmity to man, the reason\nof it, his setting himself up in the dark parts of the world to be\nworshipped instead of God, and as God, and the many stratagems he made\nuse of to delude mankind to their ruin; how he had a secret access\nto our passions and to our affections, to adapt his snares so to our\ninclinations, as to cause us even to be our own tempters, and to run\nupon our destruction by our own choice.\nI found it was not so easy to imprint right notions in his mind about\nthe devil, as it was about the being of a God. Nature assisted all my\narguments to evidence to him even the necessity of a great First Cause\nand overruling, governing Power, a secret directing Providence, and of\nthe equity and justice of paying homage to Him that made us, and the\nlike.\nBut there appeared nothing of all this in the notion of an evil\nspirit; of his original, his being, his nature, and above all, of his\ninclination to do evil, and to draw us in to do so too; and the poor\ncreature puzzled me once in such a manner by a question merely natural\nand innocent, that I scarce knew what to say to him. I had been talking\na great deal to him of the power of God, His omnipotence, His dreadful\naversion to sin, His being a consuming fire to the workers of iniquity;\nhow, as He had made us all, He could destroy us and all the world in a\nmoment; and he listened with great seriousness to me all the while.\nAfter this I had been telling him how the devil was God\u2019s enemy in the\nhearts of men, and used all his malice and skill to defeat the good\ndesigns of Providence, and to ruin the kingdom of Christ in the world,\nand the like. \u201cWell,\u201d says Friday, \u201cbut you say God is so strong, so\ngreat; is He no much strong, much might as the devil?\u201d \u201cYes, yes,\u201d says\nI, \u201cFriday, God is stronger than the devil; God is above the devil, and\ntherefore we pray to God to tread him down under our feet, and enable\nus to resist his temptation, and quench his fiery darts.\u201d \u201cBut,\u201d says\nhe again, \u201cif God much strong, much might as the devil, why God no kill\nthe devil, so make him no more do wicked?\u201d\nI was strangely surprised at his question; and after all, though I was\nnow an old man, yet I was but a young doctor, and ill enough qualified\nfor a casuist, or a solver of difficulties; and at first I could not\ntell what to say; so I pretended not to hear him, and asked him what\nhe said? But he was too earnest for an answer to forget his question,\nso that he repeated it in the very same broken words as above. By this\ntime I had recovered myself a little, and I said, \u201cGod will at last\npunish him severely; he is reserved for the judgment, and is to be cast\ninto the bottomless pit, to dwell with everlasting fire.\u201d This did not\nsatisfy Friday; but he returned upon me, repeating my words \u201cReserve at\nlast! me no understand; but why not kill the devil now? not kill great\nago?\u201d \u201cYou may as well ask me,\u201d said I, \u201cwhy God does not kill you and\nI, when we do wicked things here that offend Him; we are preserved to\nrepent and be pardoned.\u201d He muses awhile at this. \u201cWell, well,\u201d says\nhe, mighty affectionately, \u201cthat well; so you, I, devil, all wicked,\nall preserve, repent, God pardon all.\u201d Here I was run down again by him\nto the last degree, and it was a testimony to me how the mere notions\nof nature, though they will guide reasonable creatures to the knowledge\nof a God, and of a worship or homage due to the supreme being of God,\nas the consequence of our nature, yet nothing but Divine revelation can\nform the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and of a redemption purchased for\nus, of a Mediator of the new covenant, and of an Intercessor at the\nfootstool of God\u2019s throne; I say, nothing but a revelation from heaven\ncan form these in the soul, and that therefore the Gospel of our Lord\nand Savior Jesus Christ, I mean the Word of God, and the Spirit of God,\npromised for the guide and sanctifier of His people, are the absolutely\nnecessary instructors of the souls of men in the saving knowledge of\nGod, and the means of salvation.\nI therefore diverted the present discourse between me and my man,\nrising up hastily, as upon some sudden occasion of going out; then\nsending him for something a good way off, I seriously prayed to\nGod that He would enable me to instruct savingly this poor savage,\nassisting, by His Spirit, the heart of the poor ignorant creature to\nreceive the light of the knowledge of God in Christ, reconciling him to\nHimself, and would guide me to speak so to him from the Word of God as\nhis conscience might be convinced, his eyes opened, and his soul saved.\nWhen he came again to me, I entered into a long discourse with him upon\nthe subject of the redemption of man by the Savior of the world, and of\nthe doctrine of the Gospel preached from heaven, viz., of repentance\ntowards God, and faith in our blessed Lord Jesus. I then explained to\nhim as well as I could why our blessed Redeemer took not on Him the\nnature of angels, but the seed of Abraham; and how, for that reason,\nthe fallen angels had no share in the redemption; that He came only to\nthe lost sheep of the house of Israel, and the like.\nI had, God knows, more sincerity than knowledge in all the methods I\ntook for this poor creature\u2019s instruction, and must acknowledge, what I\nbelieve all that act upon the same principle will find, that in laying\nthings open to him, I really informed and instructed myself in many\nthings that either I did not know, or had not fully considered before,\nbut which occurred naturally to my mind upon my searching into them\nfor the information of this poor savage. And I had more affection in\nmy inquiry after things upon this occasion than ever I felt before;\nso that whether this poor wild wretch was the better for me or no, I\nhad great reason to be thankful that ever he came to me. My grief set\nlighter upon me, my habitation grew comfortable to me beyond measure;\nand when I reflected, that in this solitary life which I had been\nconfined to, I had not only been moved myself to look up to heaven,\nand to seek to the Hand that had brought me there, but was now to be\nmade an instrument, under Providence, to save the life, and, for aught\nI know, the soul of a poor savage, and bring him to the true knowledge\nof religion, and of the Christian doctrine, that he might know Christ\nJesus, to know whom is life eternal;--I say, when I reflected upon\nall these things, a secret joy ran through every part of my soul, and\nI frequently rejoiced that ever I was brought to this place, which I\nhad so often thought the most dreadful of all afflictions that could\npossibly have befallen me.\nIn this thankful frame I continued all the remainder of my time, and\nthe conversation which employed the hours between Friday and me was\nsuch, as made the three years which we lived there together perfectly\nand completely happy, if any such thing as complete happiness can be\nformed in a sublunary state. The savage was now a good Christian, a\nmuch better than I; though I have reason to hope, and bless God for it,\nthat we were equally penitent, and comforted, restored penitents. We\nhad here the Word of God to read, and no farther off from His Spirit to\ninstruct than if we had been in England.\nI always applied myself to reading the Scripture, to let him know,\nas well as I could, the meaning of what I read; and he again, by his\nserious inquiries and questions, made me, as I said before, a much\nbetter scholar in the Scripture-knowledge than I should ever have\nbeen by my own private mere reading. Another thing I cannot refrain\nfrom observing here also, from experience in this retired part of my\nlife, viz., how infinite and inexpressible a blessing it is that the\nknowledge of God, and of the doctrine of salvation by Christ Jesus, is\nso plainly laid down in the Word of God, so easy to be received and\nunderstood; that as the bare reading the Scripture made me capable of\nunderstanding enough of my duty to carry me directly on to the great\nwork of repentance for my sins, and laying hold of a Savior for life\nand salvation, to a stated reformation in practice, and obedience to\nall God\u2019s commands, and this without any teacher or instructor (I\nmean human); so the same plain instruction sufficiently served to\nthe enlightening this savage creature, and bringing him to be such a\nChristian, as I have known few equal to him in my life.\nAs to all the disputes, wranglings, strife, and contention which has\nhappened in the world about religion, whether niceties in doctrines,\nor schemes of Church government, they were all perfectly useless to\nus; as, for aught I can yet see, they have been to all the rest in the\nworld. We had the sure guide to heaven, viz., the Word of God; and we\nhad, blessed be God, comfortable views of the Spirit of God teaching\nand instructing us by His Word, leading us into all truth, and making\nus both willing and obedient to the instruction of His Word; and I\ncannot see the least use that the greatest knowledge of the disputed\npoints in religion, which have made such confusions in the world would\nhave been to us if we could have obtained it. But I must go on with the\nhistorical part of things and take every part in its order.\nCHAPTER XXIV\n_Robinson and Friday Build a Canoe to Carry them to Friday\u2019s\nCountry--Their Scheme Prevented by the Arrival of a Party of Savages_\nAfter Friday and I became more intimately acquainted and that he could\nunderstand almost all I said to him, and speak fluently, though in\nbroken English, to me, I acquainted him with my own story, or at least\nso much of it as related to my coming into the place; how I had lived\nthere, and how long. I let him into the mystery, for such it was to\nhim, of gunpowder and bullet, and taught him how to shoot; I gave him a\nknife, which he was wonderfully delighted with, and I made him a belt,\nwith a frog hanging to it, such as in England we wear hangers in; and\nin the frog, instead of a hanger, I gave him a hatchet, which was not\nonly as good a weapon, in some cases, but much more useful upon other\noccasions.\nI described to him the country of Europe, and particularly England,\nwhich I came from; how we lived, how we worshipped God, how we behaved\nto one another, and how we traded in ships to all parts of the world.\nI gave him an account of the wreck which I had been on board of, and\nshowed him, as near as I could, the place where she lay; but she was\nall beaten in pieces before, and gone.\nI showed him the ruins of our boat, which we lost when we escaped, and\nwhich I could not stir with my whole strength then, but was now fallen\nalmost all to pieces. Upon seeing this boat, Friday stood musing a\ngreat while, and said nothing. I asked him what it was he studied upon.\nAt last says he, \u201cMe see such boat like come to place at my nation.\u201d\nI did not understand him a good while; but at last, when I had examined\nfarther into it, I understood by him that a boat such as that had been,\ncame on shore upon the country where he lived; that is, as he explained\nit, was driven thither by stress of weather.\nI presently imagined that some European ship must have been cast away\nupon their coast, and the boat might get loose and drive ashore; but\nwas so dull, that I never once thought of men making escape from a\nwreck thither, much less whence they might come; so I only inquired\nafter a description of the boat.\nFriday described the boat to me well enough; but brought me better to\nunderstand him when he added with some warmth, \u201cWe save the white mans\nfrom drown.\u201d Then I presently asked him if there was any white mans, as\nhe called them, in the boat. \u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cthe boat full of white\nmans.\u201d I asked him how many. He told upon his fingers seventeen. I\nasked him then what became of them. He told me, \u201cThey live, they dwell\nat my nation.\u201d\nThis put new thoughts into my head; for I presently imagined that these\nmight be the men belonging to the ship that was cast away in sight of\nmy island, as I now call it; and who, after the ship was struck on the\nrock, and they saw her inevitably lost, had saved themselves in their\nboat, and were landed upon that wild shore among the savages.\nUpon this I inquired of him more critically what was become of them. He\nassured me they lived still there; that they had been there about four\nyears; that the savages let them alone, and gave them victuals to live.\nI asked him how it came to pass they did not kill them, and eat them.\nHe said, \u201cNo, they make brother with them;\u201d that is, as I understood\nhim, a truce; and then he added, \u201cThey no eat mans but when make the\nwar fight;\u201d that is to say, they never eat any men but such as come to\nfight with them and are taken in battle.\nIt was after this some considerable time, that being on the top of the\nhill, at the east side of the island (from whence, as I have said,\nI had in a clear day discovered the main or continent of America),\nFriday, the weather being very serene, looks very earnestly towards the\nmainland, and, in a kind of surprise, falls a-jumping and dancing, and\ncalls out to me, for I was at some distance from him. I asked him what\nwas the matter? \u201cO joy!\u201d says he, \u201cO glad! there see my country, there\nmy nation!\u201d\nI observed an extraordinary sense of pleasure appeared in his face,\nand his eyes sparkled, and his countenance discovered a strange\neagerness, as if he had a mind to be in his own country again; and this\nobservation of mine put a great many thoughts into me, which made me at\nfirst not so easy about my new man Friday as I was before; and I made\nno doubt but that if Friday could get back to his own nation again, he\nwould not only forget all his religion, but all his obligation to me;\nand would be forward enough to give his countrymen an account of me,\nand come back perhaps with a hundred or two of them, and make a feast\nupon me, at which he might be as merry as he used to be with those of\nhis enemies, when they were taken in war.\nBut I wronged the poor honest creature very much, for which I was very\nsorry afterwards. However, as my jealousy increased, and held me some\nweeks, I was a little more circumspect, and not so familiar and kind to\nhim as before; in which I was certainly in the wrong too, the honest,\ngrateful creature having no thought about it but what consisted with\nthe best principles, both as a religious Christian and as a grateful\nfriend, as appeared afterwards to my full satisfaction.\nWhile my jealousy of him lasted, you may be sure I was every day\npumping him, to see if he would discover any of the new thoughts which\nI suspected were in him; but I found everything he said was so honest\nand so innocent, that I could find nothing to nourish my suspicion;\nand, in spite of all my uneasiness, he made me at last entirely his\nown again, nor did he in the least perceive that I was uneasy, and\ntherefore I could not suspect him of deceit.\nOne day, walking up the same hill, but the weather being hazy at\nsea, so that we could not see the continent, I called to him, and\nsaid, \u201cFriday, do not you wish yourself in your own country, your own\nnation?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cI be much O glad to be at my own nation.\u201d\n\u201cWhat would you do there?\u201d said I. \u201cWould you turn wild again, eat\nmen\u2019s flesh again, and be a savage as you were before?\u201d He looked\nfull of concern, and shaking his head said, \u201cNo, no; Friday tell them\nto live good; tell them to pray God; tell them to eat corn-bread,\ncattle-flesh, milk, no eat man again.\u201d \u201cWhy then,\u201d said I to him,\n\u201cthey will kill you.\u201d He looked grave at that, and then said, \u201cNo,\nthey no kill me, they willing love learn.\u201d He meant by this they would\nbe willing to learn. He added, they learned much of the bearded mans\nthat come in the boat. Then I asked him if he would go back to them?\nHe smiled at that, and told me he could not swim so far. I told him I\nwould make a canoe for him. He told me he would go, if I would go with\nhim. \u201cI go?\u201d says I; \u201cwhy, they will eat me if I come there.\u201d \u201cNo, no,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cme make they no eat you; me make they much love you.\u201d He\nmeant, he would tell them how I had killed his enemies, and saved his\nlife, and so he would make them love me. Then he told me, as well as he\ncould, how kind they were to seventeen white men, or bearded men, as he\ncalled them, who came on shore there in distress.\nFrom this time I confess I had a mind to venture over, and see if I\ncould possibly join with these bearded men, who, I made no doubt, were\nSpaniards or Portuguese; not doubting that, if I could, we might find\nsome method to escape from thence, being upon the continent, and a good\ncompany together, better than I could from an island forty miles off\nthe shore, and alone, without help. So, after some days, I took Friday\nto work again, by way of discourse, and told him I would give him a\nboat to go back to his own nation; and accordingly I carried him to my\nfrigate, which lay on the other side of the island, and having cleared\nit of water, for I always kept it sunk in the water, I brought it out,\nshowed it him, and we both went into it.\nI found he was a most dexterous fellow at managing it, and would make\nit go almost as swift and fast again as I could. So when he was in I\nsaid to him, \u201cWell now, Friday, shall we go to your nation?\u201d He looked\nvery dull at my saying so, which, it seems, was because he thought the\nboat too small to go so far. I told him then I had a bigger; so the\nnext day I went to the place where the first boat lay which I had made,\nbut which I could not get into the water. He said that was big enough;\nbut then, as I had taken no care of it, and it had lain two or three\nand twenty years there, the sun had split and dried it, that it was in\na manner rotten. Friday told me such a boat would do very well, and\nwould carry \u201cmuch enough victual, drink, bread;\u201d that was his way of\ntalking.\nUpon the whole, I was by this time so fixed upon my design of going\nover with him to the continent, that I told him we would go and make\none as big as that, and he should go home in it. He answered not one\nword, but looked very grave and sad. I asked him what was the matter\nwith him? He asked me again thus, \u201cWhy you angry mad with Friday?\nwhat me done?\u201d I asked him what he meant. I told him I was not angry\nwith him at all. \u201cNo angry! no angry!\u201d says he, repeating the words\nseveral times. \u201cWhy send Friday home away to my nation?\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d says\nI, \u201cFriday, did you not say you wished you were there?\u201d \u201cYes, yes,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cwish be both there, no wish Friday there, no master there.\u201d\nIn a word, he would not think of going there without me. \u201cI go there,\nFriday!\u201d says I; \u201cwhat shall I do there?\u201d He turned very quick upon me\nat this: \u201cYou do great deal much good,\u201d says he; \u201cyou teach wild mans\nto be good, sober, tame mans; you tell them know God, pray God, and\nlive new life.\u201d \u201cAlas! Friday,\u201d says I, \u201cthou knowest not what thou\nsayest. I am but an ignorant man myself.\u201d \u201cYes, yes,\u201d says he, \u201cyou\nteachee me good, you teachee them good.\u201d \u201cNo, no, Friday,\u201d says I,\n\u201cyou shall go without me; leave me here to live by myself, as I did\nbefore.\u201d He looked confused again at that word, and running to one of\nthe hatchets which he used to wear, he takes it up hastily, comes and\ngives it me. \u201cWhat must I do with this?\u201d says I to him. \u201cYou take kill\nFriday,\u201d says he. \u201cWhat must I kill you for?\u201d said I again. He returns\nvery quick, \u201cWhat you send Friday away for? Take kill Friday, no send\nFriday away.\u201d This he spoke so earnestly, that I saw tears stand in his\neyes. In a word, I so plainly discovered the utmost affection in him\nto me, and a firm resolution in him, that I told him then, and often\nafter, that I would never send him away from me if he was willing to\nstay with me.\nUpon the whole, as I found by all his discourse a settled affection\nto me, and that nothing should part him from me, so I found all the\nfoundation of his desire to go to his own country was laid in his\nardent affection to the people, and his hopes of my doing them good;\na thing which, as I had no notion of myself, so I had not the least\nthought or intention or desire of undertaking it. But still I found a\nstrong inclination to my attempting an escape, as above, founded on\nthe supposition gathered from the discourse, viz., that there were\nseventeen bearded men there; and, therefore, without any more delay I\nwent to work with Friday to find out a great tree proper to fell, and\nmake a large _periagua_, or canoe, to undertake the voyage. There\nwere trees enough in the island to have built a little fleet, not of\n_periaguas_ and canoes, but even of good large vessels. But the main\nthing I looked at was, to get one so near the water that we might\nlaunch it when it was made, to avoid the mistake I committed at first.\nAt last Friday pitched upon a tree, for I found he knew much better\nthan I what kind of wood was fittest for it; nor can I tell, to this\nday, what wood to call the tree we cut down, except that it was very\nlike the tree we call fustic, or between that and the Nicaragua wood,\nfor it was much of the same color and smell. Friday was for burning the\nhollow or cavity of this tree out, to make it for a boat, but I showed\nhim how rather to cut it out with tools; which, after I had showed him\nhow to use, he did very handily; and in about a month\u2019s hard labor\nwe finished it, and made it very handsome; especially when, with our\naxes, which I showed him how to handle, we cut and hewed the outside\ninto the true shape of a boat. After this, however, it cost us near a\nfortnight\u2019s time to get her along, as it were inch by inch, upon great\nrollers into the water; but when she was in, she would have carried\ntwenty men with great ease.\nWhen she was in the water, and though she was so big, it amazed me to\nsee with what dexterity, and how swift my man Friday would manage her,\nturn her, and paddle her along. So I asked him if he would, and if we\nmight venture over in her. \u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201che venture over in her very\nwell, though great blow wind.\u201d However, I had a farther design that he\nknew nothing of, and that was to make a mast and sail, and to fit her\nwith an anchor and cable. As to a mast, that was easy enough to get;\nso I pitched upon a straight young cedar tree, which I found near the\nplace, and which there was great plenty of in the island; and I set\nFriday to work to cut it down, and gave him directions how to shape and\norder it. But as to the sail, that was my particular care. I knew I had\nold sails, or rather pieces of old sails enough; but as I had had them\nnow twenty-six years by me, and had not been very careful to preserve\nthem, not imagining that I should ever have this kind of use for\nthem, I did not doubt but they were all rotten, and, indeed, most of\nthem were so. However, I found two pieces which appeared pretty good,\nand with these I went to work, and with a great deal of pains, and\nawkward tedious stitching (you may be sure) for want of needles, I, at\nlength, made a three-cornered ugly thing, like what we call in England\na shoulder-of-mutton sail, to go with a boom at bottom, and a little\nshort sprit at the top, such as usually our ships\u2019 longboats sail with,\nand such as I best knew how to manage; because it was such a one as I\nhad to the boat in which I made my escape from Barbary, as related in\nthe first part of my story.\n[Illustration: \u201c--_we cut and hewed the outside into the true shape of\na boat_\u201d]\nI was near two months performing this last work, viz., rigging and\nfitting my mast and sails; for I finished them very complete, making\na small stay, and a sail, or foresail, to it, to assist, if we should\nturn to windward; and, which was more than all, I fixed a rudder to the\nstern of her to steer with; and though I was but a bungling shipwright\nyet as I knew the usefulness, and even necessity, of such a thing, I\napplied myself with so much pains to do it, that at last I brought it\nto pass; though, considering the many dull contrivances I had for it\nthat failed, I think it cost me almost as much labor as making the\nboat.\nAfter all this was done too, I had my man Friday to teach as to what\nbelonged to the navigation of my boat; for though he knew very well\nhow to paddle a canoe, he knew nothing what belonged to a sail and a\nrudder; and was the most amazed when he saw me work the boat to and\nagain in the sea by the rudder, and how the sail jibed, and filled this\nway, or that way, as the course we sailed changed; I say, when he saw\nthis, he stood like one astonished and amazed. However, with a little\nuse I made all these things familiar to him, and he became an expert\nsailor, except that as to the compass I could make him understand very\nlittle of that. On the other hand, as there was very little cloudy\nweather, and seldom or never any fogs in those parts, there was the\nless occasion for a compass, seeing the stars were always to be seen\nby night, and the shore by day, except in the rainy seasons, and then\nnobody cared to stir abroad, either by land or sea.\nI was now entered on the seven and twentieth year of my captivity in\nthis place; though the three last years that I had this creature with\nme ought rather to be left out of the account, my habitation being\nquite of another kind than in all the rest of the time. I kept the\nanniversary of my landing here with the same thankfulness to God for\nHis mercies as at first; and if I had such cause of acknowledgement\nat first, I had much more so now, having such additional testimonies\nof the care of Providence over me, and the great hopes I had of being\neffectually and speedily delivered; for I had an invincible impression\nupon my thoughts that my deliverance was at hand, and that I should not\nbe another year in this place. However, I went on with my husbandry,\ndigging, planting, fencing, as usual. I gathered and cured my grapes,\nand did every necessary thing as before.\nThe rainy season was, in the meantime, upon me, when I kept more within\ndoors than at other times; so I had stowed our new vessel as secure\nas we could, bringing her up into the creek, where, as I said in the\nbeginning, I landed my rafts from the ship; and hauling her up to the\nshore at high-water mark, I made my man Friday dig a little dock, just\nbig enough to hold her, and just deep enough to give her water enough\nto float in; and then, when the tide was out, we made a strong dam\ncross the end of it, to keep the water out; and so she lay dry, as to\nthe tide, from the sea; and to keep the rain off, we laid a great many\nboughs of trees, so thick, that she was as well thatched as a house;\nand thus we waited for the month of November and December, in which I\ndesigned to make my adventure.\nWhen the settled season began to come in, as the thought of my\ndesign returned with the fair weather, I was preparing daily for the\nvoyage; and the first thing I did was to lay by a certain quantity of\nprovisions, being the stores for our voyage; and intended, in a week or\na fortnight\u2019s time, to open the dock, and launch out our boat. I was\nbusy one morning upon something of this kind, when I called to Friday,\nand bid him go to the seashore and see if he could find a turtle, or\ntortoise, a thing which we generally got once a week, for the sake of\nthe eggs as well as the flesh. Friday had not been long gone when he\ncame running back, and flew over my outer wall, or fence, like one\nthat felt not the ground, or the steps he set his feet on; and before\nI had time to speak to him, he cries out to me, \u201cO master! O master! O\nsorrow! O bad!\u201d \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter, Friday?\u201d says I. \u201cO yonder, there,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cone, two, three canoe! one, two, three!\u201d By his way of\nspeaking, I concluded there were six; but, on inquiry, I found it was\nbut three.\n\u201cWell, Friday,\u201d says I, \u201cdo not be frightened.\u201d So I heartened him up\nas well as I could. However, I saw the poor fellow was most terribly\nscared; for nothing ran in his head but that they were come to look\nfor him, and would cut him in pieces, and eat him; and the poor fellow\ntrembled so, that I scarce knew what to do with him. I comforted him\nas well as I could, and told him I was in as much danger as he, and\nthat they would eat me as well as him. \u201cBut,\u201d says I, \u201cFriday, we\nmust resolve to fight them. Can you fight, Friday?\u201d \u201cMe shoot,\u201d says\nhe; \u201cbut there come many great number.\u201d \u201cNo matter for that,\u201d said I\nagain; \u201cour guns will frighten them that we do not kill.\u201d So I asked\nhim whether, if I resolved to defend him, he would defend me, and stand\nby me, and do just as I bid him. He said, \u201cMe die when you bid die,\nmaster.\u201d\nSo I went and fetched a good dram of rum, and gave him; for I had\nbeen so good a husband of my rum, that I had a great deal left.\nWhen he drank it, I made him take the two fowling-pieces, which we\nalways carried, and load them with large swanshot, as big as small\npistol-bullets. Then I took four muskets, and loaded them with two\nslugs and five small bullets each; and my two pistols I loaded with a\nbrace of bullets each. I hung my great sword, as usual, naked by my\nside, and gave Friday his hatchet.\nWhen I had thus prepared myself, I took my perspective-glass, and went\nup to the side of the hill to see what I could discover; and I found\nquickly, by my glass, that there were one and twenty savages, three\nprisoners, and three canoes, and that their whole business seemed to be\nthe triumphant banquet upon these three human bodies; a barbarous feast\nindeed, but nothing more than, as I had observed, was usual with them.\nI observed also that they were landed, not where they had done when\nFriday made his escape, but nearer to my creek, where the shore was\nlow, and where the thick wood came close almost down to the sea. This,\nwith the abhorrence of the inhuman errand these wretches came about,\nfilled me with such indignation, that I came down again to Friday, and\ntold him I was resolved to go down to them, and kill them all, and\nasked him if he would stand by me. He was now gotten over his fright,\nand his spirits being a little raised with the dram I had given him, he\nwas very cheerful, and told me, as before, he would die when I bid die.\nIn this fit of fury, I took first and divided the arms which I had\ncharged, as before, between us. I gave Friday one pistol to stick in\nhis girdle, and three guns upon his shoulder; and I took one pistol,\nand the other three myself, and in this posture we marched out. I took\na small bottle of rum in my pocket, and gave Friday a large bag with\nmore powder and bullet; and as to orders, I charged him to keep close\nbehind me, and not to stir, or shoot, or do anything, till I bid him,\nand in the meantime not to speak a word. In this posture I fetched a\ncompass to my right hand of near a mile as well to get over the creek\nas to get into the wood, so that I might come within shot of them\nbefore I should be discovered, which I had seen, by my glass, it was\neasy to do.\nWhile I was making this march, my former thoughts returning, I began\nto abate my resolution. I do not mean that I entertained any fear of\ntheir number; for as they were naked, unarmed wretches, \u2019tis certain I\nwas superior to them; nay, though I had been alone. But it occurred to\nmy thoughts what call, what occasion, much less what necessity, I was\nin to go and dip my hands in blood, to attack people who had neither\ndone or intended me any wrong; who, as to me, were innocent, and whose\nbarbarous customs were their own disaster; being in them a token indeed\nof God\u2019s having left them, with the other nations of that part of the\nworld, to such stupidity, and to such inhuman courses; but did not\ncall me to take upon me to be a judge of their actions, much less an\nexecutioner of His justice; that whenever He thought fit, He would\ntake the cause into His own hands, and by national vengeance, punish\nthem, as a people, for national crimes; but that, in the meantime, it\nwas none of my business; that, it was true, Friday might justify it,\nbecause he was a declared enemy, and in state of war with those very\nparticular people, and it was lawful for him to attack them; but I\ncould not say the same with respect to me. These things were so warmly\npressed upon my thoughts all the way as I went, that I resolved I\nwould only go and place myself near them, that I might observe their\nbarbarous feast, and that I would act then as God should direct; but\nthat, unless something offered that was more a call to me than yet I\nknew of, I would not meddle with them.\nWith this resolution I entered the wood, and with all possible wariness\nand silence, Friday following close at my heels, I marched till I came\nto the skirt of the wood, on the side which was next to them; only that\none corner of the wood lay between me and them. Here I called softly\nto Friday, and showing him a great tree, which was just at the corner\nof the wood, I bade him go to the tree and bring me word if he could\nsee there plainly what they were doing. He did so, and came immediately\nback to me, and told me they might be plainly viewed there; that they\nwere all about their fire, eating the flesh of one of their prisoners,\nand that another lay bound upon the sand, a little from them, which, he\nsaid, they would kill next; and, which fired all the very soul within\nme, he told me it was not one of their nation, but one of the bearded\nmen, whom he had told me of, that came to their country in the boat. I\nwas filled with horror at the very naming the white, bearded man; and\ngoing to the tree, I saw plainly, by my glass, a white man, who lay\nupon the beach of the sea, with his hands and feet tied with flags, or\nthings like rushes, and that he was an European, and had clothes on.\nThere was another tree, and a little ticket beyond it, about fifty\nyards nearer to them than the place where I was, which, by going a\nlittle way about, I saw I might come at undiscovered, and that when I\nshould be within half shot of them; so I withheld my passion, though I\nwas indeed enraged to the highest degree; and going back about twenty\npaces, I got behind some bushes, which held all the way till I came to\nthe other tree; and then I came to a little rising ground, which gave\nme a full view of them, at the distance of about eighty yards.\nCHAPTER XXV\n_Robinson Releases a Spaniard--Friday Discovers His\nFather--Accommodation Provided for These New Guests, Who Were Afterward\nSent to Liberate the Other Spaniards--Arrival of an English Vessel_\nI had now not a moment to lose, for nineteen of the dreadful wretches\nsat upon the ground, all close huddled together, and had just sent the\nother two to butcher the poor Christian, and bring him, perhaps limb\nby limb, to their fire; and they were stooped down to untie the bands\nat his feet. I turned to Friday: \u201cNow, Friday,\u201d said I, \u201cdo as I bid\nthee.\u201d Friday said he would. \u201cThen, Friday,\u201d says I, \u201cdo exactly as you\nsee me do; fail in nothing.\u201d So I set down one of the muskets and the\nfowling-piece upon the ground, and Friday did the like by his; and with\nthe other musket I took my aim at the savages, bidding him do the like.\nThen asking him if he was ready, he said, \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cThen fire at them,\u201d\nsaid I; and the same moment I fired also.\nFriday took his aim so much better than I, that on the side that he\nshot he killed two of them, and wounded three more; and on my side I\nkilled one and wounded two. They were, you may be sure, in a dreadful\nconsternation; and all of them who were not hurt jumped up upon their\nfeet, but did not immediately know which way to run, or which way to\nlook, for they knew not from whence their destruction came. Friday\nkept his eyes close upon me, that, as I had bid him, he might observe\nwhat I did; so as soon as the first shot was made I threw down the\npiece, and took up the fowling-piece; and Friday did the like. He saw\nme cock and present; he did the same again. \u201cAre you ready, Friday?\u201d\nsaid I. \u201cYes,\u201d said he. \u201cLet fly, then,\u201d said I, \u201cin the name of God!\u201d\nand with that I fired again among the amazed wretches, and so did\nFriday; and as our pieces were now loaded with what I called swanshot\nor small pistol-bullets, we found only two drop, but so many were\nwounded, that they ran about yelling and screaming like mad creatures,\nall bloody, and miserably wounded most of them; whereof three more fell\nquickly after, though not quite dead.\n\u201cNow, Friday,\u201d says I, laying down the discharged pieces, and taking\nup the musket which was yet loaded, \u201cfollow me,\u201d says I, which he did\nwith a great deal of courage; upon which I rushed out of the wood, and\nshowed myself, and Friday close at my foot. As soon as I perceived they\nsaw me I shouted as loud as I could, and bade Friday do so too; and\nrunning as fast as I could, which, by the way, was not very fast, being\nloaden with arms as I was, I made directly towards the poor victim,\nwho was, as I said, lying upon the beach, or shore, between the place\nwhere they sat and the sea. The two butchers, who were just going to\nwork with him, had left him at the surprise of our first fire, and fled\nin a terrible fright to the seaside, and had jumped into a canoe, and\nthree more of the rest made the same way. I turned to Friday, and bid\nhim step forwards and fire at them. He understood me immediately, and\nrunning about forty yards, to be near them, he shot at them, and I\nthought he had killed them all, for I saw them all fall of a heap into\nthe boat; though I saw two of them up again quickly. However, he killed\ntwo of them, and wounded the third, so that he lay down in the bottom\nof the boat as if he had been dead.\n[Illustration: \u201c--_and no sooner had he the arms in his hands but, as\nif they had put new vigor into him, he flew upon his murderers like a\nfury_\u201d]\nWhile my man Friday fired at them, I pulled out my knife and cut the\nflags that bound the poor victim; and loosing his hands and feet, I\nlifted him up, and asked him in the Portuguese tongue who he was. He\nanswered in Latin, \u201cChristianus\u201d; but was so weak and faint, that he\ncould scarce stand or speak. I took my bottle out of my pocket and gave\nit him, making signs that he should drink, which he did; and I gave\nhim a piece of bread, which he ate. Then I asked him what countryman\nhe was; and he said, \u201cEspagniole\u201d; and being a little recovered, let\nme know, by all the signs he could possibly make, how much he was in\nmy debt for his deliverance. \u201cSe\u00f1or,\u201d said I, with as much Spanish as\nI could make up, \u201cwe will talk afterwards, but we must fight now. If\nyou have any strength left, take this pistol and sword, and lay about\nyou.\u201d He took them very thankfully, and no sooner had he the arms in\nhis hands but, as if they had put new vigor into him, he flew upon his\nmurderers like a fury, and had cut two of them in pieces in an instant;\nfor the truth is, as the whole was a surprise to them, so the poor\ncreatures were so much frightened with the noise of our pieces, that\nthey fell down for mere amazement and fear, and had no more power to\nattempt their own escape, than their flesh had to resist our shot; and\nthat was the case of those five that Friday shot at in the boat; for\nas three of them fell with the hurt they received, so the other two\nfell with the fright.\nI kept my piece in my hand still without firing, being willing to\nkeep my charge ready, because I had given the Spaniard my pistol and\nsword. So I called to Friday, and bade him run up to the tree from\nwhence we first fired, and fetch the arms which lay there that had\nbeen discharged, which he did with great swiftness; and then giving\nhim my musket, I sat down myself to load all the rest again, and bade\nthem come to me when they wanted. While I was loading these pieces,\nthere happened a fierce engagement between the Spaniard and one of the\nsavages, who made at him with one of their great wooden swords, the\nsame weapon that was to have killed him before if I had not prevented\nit. The Spaniard, who was as bold and as brave as could be imagined,\nthough weak, had fought this Indian a good while, and had cut him two\ngreat wounds on his head; but the savage being a stout lusty fellow,\nclosing in with him, had thrown him down being faint, and was wringing\nmy sword out of his hand, when the Spaniard, though undermost, wisely\nquitting the sword, drew the pistol from his girdle, shot the savage\nthrough the body, and killed him upon the spot, before I, who was\nrunning to help him, could come near him.\nFriday being now left to his liberty, pursued the flying wretches with\nno weapon in his hand but his hatchet; and with that he despatched\nthose three who, as I said before, were wounded at first, and fallen,\nand all the rest he could come up with; and the Spaniard coming to me\nfor a gun, I gave him one of the fowling-pieces, with which he pursued\ntwo of the savages, and wounded them both; but as he was not able to\nrun, they both got away from him into the wood, where Friday pursued\nthem, and killed one of them; but the other was too nimble for him, and\nthough he was wounded, yet had plunged himself into the sea, and swam\nwith all his might off to those two who were left in the canoe; which\nthree in the canoe, with one wounded, who we know not whether he died\nor no, were all that escape our hands of one and twenty. The account of\nthe rest is as follows:--\n   3  killed at our first shot from the tree.\n   2  killed at the next shot.\n   2  killed by Friday in the boat.\n   2  killed by ditto, of those at first wounded.\n   1  killed by ditto in the wood.\n   3  killed by the Spaniard.\n   4  killed, being found dropped here and there of their\n        wounds, or killed by Friday in his chase of them.\n   4  escaped in the boat, whereof one wounded, if not dead.\n  21 in all.\nThose that were in the canoe worked hard to get out of gun-shot; and\nthough Friday made two or three shots at them, I did not find that\nhe hit any of them. Friday would fain have had me take one of their\ncanoes, and pursue them; and, indeed, I was very anxious about their\nescape, lest carrying the news home to their people they should come\nback perhaps with two or three hundred of their canoes, and devour us\nby mere multitude. So I consented to pursue them by sea, and running\nto one of their canoes, I jumped in, and bade Friday follow me. But\nwhen I was in the canoe, I was surprised to find another poor creature\nlie there alive, bound hand and foot, as the Spaniard was, for the\nslaughter, and almost dead with fear, not knowing what the matter was;\nfor he had not been able to look up over the side of the boat, he was\ntied so hard, neck and heels, and had been tied so long, that he had\nreally but little life in him.\nI immediately cut the twisted flags or rushes, which they had bound him\nwith, and would have helped him up; but he could not stand or speak,\nbut groaned most piteously, believing, it seems, still that he was only\nunbound in order to be killed.\nWhen Friday came to him, I bade him speak to him, and tell him of his\ndeliverance; and pulling out my bottle made him give the poor wretch a\ndram; which, with the news of his being delivered, revived him, and he\nsat up in the boat. But when Friday came to hear him speak, and look in\nhis face, it would have moved any one to tears to have seen how Friday\nkissed him, embraced him, hugged him, cried, laughed, hallooed, jumped\nabout, danced, sang; then cried again, wrung his hands, beat his own\nface and head, and then sang and jumped about again, like a distracted\ncreature. It was a good while before I could make him speak to me, or\ntell me what was the matter; but when he came a little to himself, he\ntold me that it was his father.\nIt is not easy for me to express how it moved me to see what ecstasy\nand filial affection had worked in this poor savage at the sight of\nhis father, and of his being delivered from death; nor, indeed, can I\ndescribe half the extravagances of his affection after this; for he\nwent into the boat, and out of the boat, a great many times. When he\nwent in to him, he would sit down by him, open his breast, and hold his\nfather\u2019s head close to his bosom, half an hour together to nourish it;\nthen he took his arms and ankles, which were numbed and stiff with the\nbinding, and chafed and rubbed them with his hands; and I, perceiving\nwhat the case was, gave him some rum out of my bottle to rub them with,\nwhich did them a great deal of good.\nThis action put an end to our pursuit of the canoe with the other\nsavages, who were now gotten almost out of sight; and it was happy for\nus that we did not, for it blew so hard within two hours after, and\nbefore they could be gotten a quarter of the way, and continued blowing\nso hard all night, and that from the north-west, which was against\nthem, that I should not suppose their boat could live, or that they\never reached to their own coast.\nBut to return to Friday. He was so busy about his father, that I could\nnot find in my heart to take him off for some time; but after I thought\nhe could leave him a little, called him to me, and he came jumping and\nlaughing, and pleased to the highest extreme. Then I asked him if he\nhad given his father any bread. He shook his head, and said, \u201cNone;\nugly dog eat all up self.\u201d So I gave him a cake of bread out of a\nlittle pouch I carried on purpose. I also gave him a dram for himself,\nbut he would not taste it, but carried it to his father. I had in\nmy pocket also two or three bunches of my raisins, so I gave him a\nhandful of them for his father. He had no sooner given his father these\nraisins, but I saw him come out of the boat and run away, as if he had\nbeen bewitched, he ran at such a rate; for he was the swiftest fellow\nof his foot that ever I saw. I say, he ran at such a rate, that he\nwas out of sight, as it were, in an instant; and though I called, and\nhallooed too, after him, it was all one, away he went; and in a quarter\nof an hour I saw him come back again, though not so fast as he went;\nand as he came nearer I found his pace was slacker, because he had\nsomething in his hand.\nWhen he came up to me, I found he had been quite home for an earthen\njug, or pot, to bring his father some fresh water, and that he had got\ntwo more cakes or loaves of bread. The bread he gave me, but the water\nhe carried to his father. However, as I was very thirsty too, I took a\nlittle sup of it. This water revived his father more than all the rum\nor spirits I had given him, for he was just fainting with thirst.\nWhen his father had drank, I called to him to know if there was any\nwater left. He said \u201cYes\u201d; and I bade him give it to the poor Spaniard,\nwho was in as much want of it as his father; and I sent one of the\ncakes, that Friday brought, to the Spaniard too, who was indeed very\nweak, and was reposing himself upon a green place under the shade of a\ntree; and whose limbs were also very stiff, and very much swelled with\nthe rude bandage he had been tied with. When I saw that upon Friday\u2019s\ncoming to him with the water he sat up and drank, and took the bread,\nand began to eat, I went to him, and gave him a handful of raisins. He\nlooked up in my face with all the tokens of gratitude and thankfulness\nthat could appear in any countenance; but was so weak, notwithstanding\nhe had so exerted himself in the fight, that he could not stand up upon\nhis feet. He tried to do it two or three times, but was really not\nable, his ankles were so swelled and so painful to him; so I bade him\nsit still, and caused Friday to rub his ankles, and bathe them with\nrum, as he had done his father\u2019s.\nI observed the poor affectionate creature, every two minutes, or\nperhaps less, all the while he was here, turn his head about to see if\nhis father was in the same place and posture as he left him sitting;\nand at last he found he was not to be seen; at which he started up,\nand without speaking a word, flew with that swiftness to him, that one\ncould scarce perceive his feet to touch the ground as he went. But when\nhe came, he only found he had laid himself down to ease his limbs; so\nFriday came back to me presently, and I then spoke to the Spaniard to\nlet Friday help him up, if he could, and lead him to the boat, and then\nhe should carry him to our dwelling, where I would take care of him.\nBut Friday, a lusty strong fellow, took the Spaniard quite up upon his\nback, and carried him away to the boat, and set him down softly upon\nthe side or gunwale of the canoe, with his feet in the inside of it,\nand then lifted him quite in, and set him close to his father; and\npresently stepping out again, launched the boat off, and paddled it\nalong the shore faster than I could walk, though the wind blew pretty\nhard too. So he brought them both safe into our creek, and leaving them\nin the boat, ran away to fetch the other canoe. As he passed me, I\nspoke to him, and asked him whither he went. He told me, \u201cGo fetch more\nboat.\u201d So away he went like the wind, for sure never man or horse ran\nlike him; and he had the other canoe in the creek almost as soon as I\ngot to it by land; so he wafted me over, and then went to help our new\nguests out of the boat, which he did; but they were neither of them\nable to walk, so that poor Friday knew not what to do.\nTo remedy this I went to work in my thought, and calling to Friday to\nbid him sit down on the bank while he came to me, I soon made a kind\nof hand-barrow to lay them on, and Friday and I carried them up both\ntogether upon it between us. But when we got them to the outside of\nour wall, or fortification, we were at a worse loss than before, for\nit was impossible to get them over, and I was resolved not to break it\ndown. So I set to work again; and Friday and I, in about two hours\u2019\ntime, made a very handsome tent, covered with old sails, and above that\nwith boughs of trees, being in the space without our outward fence,\nand between that and the grove of young wood which I had planted; and\nhere we made them two beds of such things as I had, viz., of good\nrice-straw, with blankets laid upon it to lie on, and another to cover\nthem, on each bed.\nMy island was now peopled, and I thought myself very rich in subjects;\nand it was a merry reflection, which I frequently made, how like a king\nI looked. First of all, the whole country was my own mere property, so\nthat I had an undoubted right of dominion. Secondly, my people were\nperfectly subjected. I was absolute lord and lawgiver; they all owed\ntheir lives to me, and were ready to lay down their lives, if there had\nbeen occasion of it, for me. It was remarkable, too, we had but three\nsubjects, and they were of three different religions. My man Friday was\na Protestant, his father was a Pagan and a cannibal, and the Spaniard\nwas a Papist. However, I allowed liberty of conscience throughout my\ndominions. But this is by the way.\nAs soon as I had secured my two weak rescued prisoners, and given them\nshelter and a place to rest them upon, I began to think of making some\nprovision for them; and the first thing I did, I ordered Friday to take\na yearling goat, betwixt a kid and a goat, out of my particular flock,\nto be killed; when I cut off the hinder-quarter, and chopping it into\nsmall pieces, I set Friday to work to boiling and stewing, and made\nthem a very good dish, I assure you, of flesh and broth, having put\nsome barley and rice also into the broth; and as I cooked it without\ndoors, for I made no fire within my inner wall, so I carried it all\ninto the new tent, and having set a table there for them, I sat down\nand ate my own dinner also with them, and as well as I could cheered\nthem, and encouraged them; Friday being my interpreter, especially to\nhis father, and indeed, to the Spaniard too; for the Spaniard spoke the\nlanguage of the savages pretty well.\nAfter we had dined, or rather supped, I ordered Friday to take one of\nthe canoes and go and fetch our muskets and other firearms, which, for\nwant of time, we had left upon the place of battle; and the next day I\nordered him to go and bury the dead bodies of the savages, which lay\nopen to the sun, and would presently be offensive; and I also ordered\nhim to bury the horrid remains of their barbarous feast, and which I\ncould not think of doing myself; nay, I could not bear to see them, if\nI went that way. All which he punctually performed, and defaced the\nvery appearance of the savages being there; so that when I went again\nI could scarce know where it was, otherwise than by the corner of the\nwood pointing to the place.\nI then began to enter into a little conversation with my two new\nsubjects; and first, I set Friday to inquire of his father what he\nthought of the escape of the savages in that canoe, and whether we\nmight expect a return of them, with a power too great for us to resist.\nHis first opinion was, that the savages in the boat never could live\nout the storm which blew that night they went off, but must, of\nnecessity, be drowned, or driven south to those other shores, where\nthey were as sure to be devoured as they were to be drowned if they\nwere cast away. But as to what they would do if they came safe on\nshore, he said he knew not; but it was his opinion that they were so\ndreadfully frightened with the manner of their being attacked, the\nnoise, and the fire, that he believed they would tell their people\nthey were all killed by thunder and lightning, not by the hand of\nman; and that the two which appeared, viz., Friday and me, were two\nheavenly spirits, or furies, come down to destroy them, and not men\nwith weapons. This, he said, he knew, because he heard them all cry\nout so in their language to one another; for it was impossible to them\nto conceive that a man could dart fire, and speak thunder, and kill at\na distance without lifting up the hand, as was done now. And this old\nsavage was in the right; for as I understood since by other hands,\nthe savages never attempted to go to the island afterwards. They were\nso terrified with the accounts given by those four men (for, it seems,\nthey did escape the sea), that they believed whoever went to that\nenchanted island would be destroyed with fire from the gods.\nThis, however, I knew not, and therefore was under continual\napprehensions for a good while, and kept always upon my guard, me and\nall my army; for as we were now four of us, I would have ventured upon\na hundred of them, fairly in the open field, at any time.\nIn a little time, however, no more canoes appearing, the fear of their\ncoming wore off, and I began to take my former thoughts of a voyage\nto the main into consideration; being likewise assured, by Friday\u2019s\nfather, that I might depend upon good usage from their nation, on his\naccount, if I would go.\nBut my thoughts were a little suspended when I had a serious discourse\nwith the Spaniard, and when I understood that there were sixteen more\nof his countrymen and Portuguese, who, having been cast away, and\nmade their escape to that side, lived there at peace, indeed, with\nthe savages, but were very sore put to it for necessaries, and indeed\nfor life. I asked him all the particulars of their voyage, and found\nthey were a Spanish ship bound from the Rio de la Plata to Havana,\nbeing directed to leave their loading there, which was chiefly hides\nand silver, and to bring back what European goods they could meet with\nthere; that they had five Portuguese seamen on board, whom they took\nout of another wreck; that five of their own men were drowned when the\nfirst ship was lost, and that these escaped, through infinite dangers\nand hazards, and arrived, almost starved, on the cannibal coast, where\nthey expected to have been devoured every moment.\nHe told me they had some arms with them, but they were perfectly\nuseless, for that they had neither powder nor ball, the washing of the\nsea having spoiled all their powder but a little, which they used, at\ntheir first landing, to provide themselves some food.\nI asked him what he thought would become of them there, and if they\nhad formed no design of making any escape? He said they had many\nconsultations about it; but that having neither vessel, or tools to\nbuild one, or provisions of any kind, their councils always ended in\ntears and despair.\nI asked him how he thought they would receive a proposal from me, which\nmight tend towards an escape; and whether, if they were all here, it\nmight not be done? I told him with freedom, I feared mostly their\ntreachery and ill usage of me if I put my life in their hands; for that\ngratitude was no inherent virtue in the nature of man, nor did men\nalways square their dealings by the obligations they had received, so\nmuch as they did by the advantages they expected. I told him it would\nbe very hard that I should be the instrument of their deliverance, and\nthat they should afterwards make me their prisoner, in New Spain, where\nan Englishman was certain to lose his life, what necessity or what\naccident soever brought him thither; and that I had rather be delivered\nup to the savages, and be devoured alive. I added, that otherwise I\nwas persuaded, if they were all here, we might, with so many hands,\nbuild a bark large enough to carry us all away, either to the Brazils,\nsouthward, or to the islands, or Spanish coast, northward; but that\nif, in requital, they should, when I had put weapons into their hands,\ncarry me by force among their own people, I might be ill used for my\nkindness to them, and make my case worse than it was before.\nHe answered, with a great deal of candor and ingenuity, that their\ncondition was so miserable, and they were so sensible of it, that\nhe believed they would abhor the thought of using any man unkindly\nthat should contribute to their deliverance; and that, if I pleased,\nhe would go to them with the old man, and discourse with them about\nit, and return again, and bring me their answer; that he would make\nconditions with them upon their solemn oath that they should be\nabsolutely under my leading, as their commander and captain; and that\nthey should swear upon the holy sacraments and the gospel to be true to\nme, and to go to such Christian country as that I should agree to, and\nno other, and to be wholly and absolutely by my orders till they were\nlanded safely in such country as I intended; and that he would bring a\ncontract from them, under their hands, for that purpose.\nThen he told me he would first swear to me himself, that he would never\nstir from me as long as he lived till I gave him orders; and that he\nwould take my side to the last drop of his blood, if there should\nhappen the least breach of faith among his countrymen.\nHe told me they were all of them very civil, honest men, and they were\nunder the greatest distress imaginable, having neither weapons nor\nclothes, nor any food, but at the mercy and discretion of the savages;\nout of all hopes of ever returning to their own country; and that he\nwas sure, if I would undertake their relief, they would live and die by\nme.\nUpon these assurances, I resolved to venture to relieve them, if\npossible, and to send the old savage and this Spaniard over to them\nto treat. But when we had gotten all things in readiness to go, the\nSpaniard himself started an objection, which had so much prudence in\nit on one hand, and so much sincerity on the other hand, that I could\nnot but be very well satisfied in it, and by his advice put off the\ndeliverance of his comrades for at least half a year. The case was thus:\nHe had been with us now about a month, during which time I had let him\nsee in what manner I had provided, with the assistance of Providence,\nfor my support; and he saw evidently what stock of corn and rice I had\nlaid up; which, as it was more than sufficient for myself, so it was\nnot sufficient, at least without good husbandry, for my family, now it\nwas increased to number four; but much less would it be sufficient if\nhis countrymen, who were, as he said, fourteen, still alive, should\ncome over; and least of all would it be sufficient to victual our\nvessel, if we should build one, for a voyage to any of the Christian\ncolonies of America. So he told me he thought it would be more\nadvisable to let him and the two others dig and cultivate some more\nland, as much as I could spare seed to sow; and that we should wait\nanother harvest, that we might have a supply of corn for his countrymen\nwhen they should come; for want might be a temptation to them to\ndisagree, or not to think themselves delivered, otherwise than out\nof one difficulty into another. \u201cYou know,\u201d says he, \u201cthe children of\nIsrael, though they rejoiced at first for their being delivered out of\nEgypt, yet rebelled even against God Himself, that delivered them, when\nthey came to want bread in the wilderness.\u201d\nHis caution was so seasonable, and his advice so good, that I could not\nbut be very well pleased with his proposal, as well as I was satisfied\nwith his fidelity. So we fell to digging all four of us, as well as the\nwooden tools we were furnished with permitted; and in about a month\u2019s\ntime, by the end of which it was seed-time, we had gotten as much land\ncured and trimmed up as we sowed twenty-two bushels of barley on, and\nsixteen jars of rice; which was, in short, all the seed we had to\nspare; nor, indeed, did we leave ourselves barley sufficient for our\nown food for the six months that we had to expect our crop; that is to\nsay, reckoning from the time we set our seed aside for sowing; for it\nis not to be supposed it is six months in the ground in that country.\nHaving now society enough, and our number being sufficient to put us\nout of fear of the savages, if they had come, unless their number\nhad been very great, we went freely all over the island, whenever we\nfound occasion; and as here we had our escape or deliverance upon our\nthoughts, it was impossible, at least for me, to have the means of it\nout of mine. To this purpose I marked out several trees which I thought\nfit for our work, and I set Friday and his father to cutting them down;\nand then I caused the Spaniard, to whom I imparted my thought on that\naffair, to oversee and direct their work. I showed them with what\nindefatigable pains I had hewed a large tree into single planks, and\nI caused them to do the like, till they had made about a dozen large\nplanks of good oak, near two feet broad, thirty-five feet long, and\nfrom two inches to four inches thick. What prodigious labor it took up,\nany one may imagine.\nAt the same time, I contrived to increase my little flock of tame goats\nas much as I could; and to this purpose I made Friday and the Spaniard\ngo out one day, and myself with Friday the next day, for we took our\nturns, and by this means we got about twenty young kids to breed up\nwith the rest, for whenever we shot the dam, we saved the kids, and\nadded them to our flock. But above all, the season for curing the\ngrapes coming on, I caused such a prodigious quantity to be hung up\nin the sun, that I believe, had we been at Alicant, where the raisins\nof the sun are cured, we could have filled sixty or eighty barrels;\nand these, with our bread, was a great part of our food, and very good\nliving too, I assure you; for it is an exceeding nourishing food.\nIt was now harvest, and our crop in good order. It was not the most\nplentiful increase I had seen in the island, but, however, it was\nenough to answer our end; for from our twenty-two bushels we brought in\nand thrashed out above two hundred and twenty bushels, and the like in\nproportion of the rice; which was store enough for our food to the next\nharvest, though all the sixteen Spaniards had been on shore with me;\nor if we had been ready for a voyage it would very plentifully have\nvictualled our ship to have carried us to any part of the world, that\nis to say, of America.\nWhen we had thus housed and secured our magazine of corn, we fell to\nwork to make more wicker-work, viz., great baskets, in which we kept\nit; and the Spaniard was very handy and dexterous at this part, and\noften blamed me that I did not make some things for defense of this\nkind of work; but I saw no need of it.\nAnd now having a full supply of food for all the guests I expected, I\ngave the Spaniard leave to go over to the main, to see what he could do\nwith those he had left behind him there. I gave him a strict charge in\nwriting not to bring any man with him who would not first swear, in the\npresence of himself and of the old savage, that he would no way injure,\nfight with, or attack the person he should find in the island, who was\nso kind to send for them in order to their deliverance; but that they\nwould stand by and defend him against all such attempts, and wherever\nthey went would be entirely under and subjected to his commands; and\nthat this should be put in writing, and signed with their hands. How we\nwere to have this done, when I knew they had neither pen nor ink, that\nindeed was a question which we never asked.\nUnder these instructions, the Spaniard and the old savage, the father\nof Friday, went away in one of the canoes which they might be said to\ncome in, or rather were brought in, when they came as prisoners to be\ndevoured by the savages.\nI gave each of them a musket, with a firelock on it, and about eight\ncharges of powder and ball, charging them to be very good husbands of\nboth, and not to use either of them but upon urgent occasion.\nThis was a cheerful work, being the first measures used by me, in view\nof my deliverance, for now twenty-seven years and some days. I gave\nthem provisions of bread and of dried grapes sufficient for themselves\nfor many days, and sufficient for all their countrymen for about eight\ndays\u2019 time; and wishing them a good voyage, I saw them go, agreeing\nwith them about a signal they should hang out at their return, by which\nI should know them again, when they came back, at a distance, before\nthey came on shore.\nThey went away with a fair gale on the day that the moon was at full,\nby my account in the month of October; but as for an exact reckoning of\ndays, after I had once lost it, I could never recover it again; nor had\nI kept even the number of years so punctually as to be sure that I was\nright, though as it proved, when I afterwards examined my account, I\nfound I had kept a true reckoning of years.\nIt was no less than eight days I had waited for them, when a strange\nand unforeseen accident intervened, of which the like has not perhaps\nbeen heard of in history. I was fast asleep in my hutch one morning,\nwhen my man Friday came running in to me, and called aloud, \u201cMaster,\nmaster, they are come, they are come!\u201d\nI jumped up, and, regardless of danger, I went out as soon as I could\nget my clothes on, through my little grove, which, by the way, was by\nthis time grown to be a very thick wood; I say, regardless of danger,\nI went without my arms, which was not my custom to do; but I was\nsurprised when, turning my eyes to the sea, I presently saw a boat at\nabout a league and a half\u2019s distance standing in for the shore, with a\nshoulder-of-mutton sail, as they call it, and the wind blowing pretty\nfair to bring them in; also I observed presently that they did not come\nfrom that side which the shore lay on, but from the southernmost end of\nthe island. Upon this I called Friday in, and bid him lie close, for\nthese were not the people we looked for, and that we might not know yet\nwhether they were friends or enemies.\nIn the next place, I went in to fetch my perspective-glass, to see\nwhat I could make of them; and having taken the ladder out, I climbed\nup to the top of the hill, as I used to do when I was apprehensive of\nanything, and to take my view the plainer, without being discovered.\nI had scarce set my foot on the hill, when my eye plainly discovered a\nship lying at an anchor at about two leagues and a half\u2019s distance from\nme, south-south-east, but not above a league and a half from the shore.\nBy my observation, it appeared plainly to be an English ship, and the\nboat appeared to be an English longboat.\nI cannot express the confusion I was in; though the joy of seeing\na ship, and one who I had reason to believe was manned by my own\ncountrymen, and consequently friends, was such as I cannot describe.\nBut yet I had some secret doubts hung about me I cannot tell from\nwhence they came, bidding me keep upon my guard. In the first place, it\noccurred to me to consider what business an English ship could have in\nthat part of the world, since it was not the way to or from any part\nof the world where the English had any traffic; and I knew there had\nbeen no storms to drive them in there as in distress; and that if they\nwere English really, it was most probable that they were here upon no\ngood design; and that I had better continue as I was, than fall into\nthe hands of thieves and murderers.\nLet no man despise the secret hints and notices of danger which\nsometimes are given him when he may think there is no possibility of\nits being real. That such hints and notices are given us, I believe\nfew that have made any observation of things can deny; that they are\ncertain discoveries of an invisible world, and a converse of spirits,\nwe cannot doubt; and if the tendency of them seems to be to warn us of\ndanger, why should we not suppose they are from some friendly agent,\nwhether supreme, or inferior and subordinate, is not the question, and\nthat they are given for our good?\nThe present question abundantly confirms me in the justice of this\nreasoning; for had I not been made cautious by this secret admonition,\ncome it from whence it will, I had been undone inevitably, and in a far\nworse condition than before, as you will see presently.\nI had not kept myself long in this posture, but I saw the boat draw\nnear the shore, as if they looked for a creek to thrust in at, for the\nconvenience of landing. However, as they did not come quite far enough,\nthey did not see the little inlet where I formerly landed my rafts;\nbut ran their boat on shore upon the beach, at about half a mile from\nme, which was very happy for me; for otherwise they would have landed\njust, as I may say, at my door, and would soon have beaten me out of my\ncastle, and perhaps have plundered me of all I had.\nWhen they were on shore, I was fully satisfied that they were\nEnglishmen, at least most of them; one or two I thought were Dutch,\nbut it did not prove so. There were in all eleven men, whereof three\nof them I found were unarmed, and, as I thought, bound; and when the\nfirst four or five of them were jumped on shore, they took those three\nout of the boat, as prisoners. One of the three I could perceive using\nthe most passionate gestures of entreaty, affliction, and despair, even\nto a kind of extravagance; the other two, I could perceive, lifted up\ntheir hands sometimes, and appeared concerned indeed, but not to such a\ndegree as the first.\nI was perfectly confounded at the sight, and knew not what the meaning\nof it should be. Friday called out to me in English as well as he\ncould, \u201cO master! you see English mans eat prisoner as well as savage\nmans.\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cFriday, do you think they are agoing to eat them\nthen?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d says Friday, \u201cthey will eat them.\u201d \u201cNo, no,\u201d says I,\n\u201cFriday, I am afraid they will murder them, indeed, but you may be sure\nthey will not eat them.\u201d\nAll this while I had no thought of what the matter really was, but\nstood trembling with the horror of the sight, expecting every moment\nwhen the three prisoners should be killed; nay, once I saw one of the\nvillains lift up his arm with a great cutlass, as the seamen call it,\nor sword, to strike one of the poor men; and I expected to see him\nfall every moment, at which all the blood in my body seemed to run\nchill in my veins.\nI wished heartily now for my Spaniard, and the savage that was gone\nwith him; or that I had any way to have come undiscovered within shot\nof them, that I might have rescued the three men, for I saw no firearms\nthey had among them; but it fell out to my mind another way.\nAfter I had observed the outrageous usage of the three men by the\ninsolent seamen, I observed the fellows run scattering about the land,\nas if they wanted to see the country. I observed that the three other\nmen had liberty to go also where they pleased; but they sat down all\nthree upon the ground, very pensive, and looked like men in despair.\nThis put me in mind of the first time when I came on shore, and began\nto look about me; how I gave myself over for lost; how wildly I looked\nround me; what dreadful apprehensions I had; and how I lodged in the\ntree all night, for fear of being devoured by wild beasts.\nAs I knew nothing that night of the supply I was to receive by the\nprovidential driving of the ship nearer the land by the storms and\ntide, by which I have since been so long nourished and supported; so\nthese three poor desolate men knew nothing how certain of deliverance\nand supply they were, how near it was to them, and how effectually and\nreally they were in a condition of safety, at the same time that they\nthought themselves lost, and their case desperate.\nSo little do we see before us in the world, and so much reason have\nwe to depend cheerfully upon the great Maker of the world, that He\ndoes not leave His creatures so absolutely destitute, but that, in the\nworst circumstances, they have always something to be thankful for,\nand sometimes are nearer their deliverance than they imagine; nay, are\neven brought to their deliverance by the means by which they seem to be\nbrought to their destruction.\nCHAPTER XXVI\n_Robinson Discovers Himself to the English Captain--Assists Him In\nReducing His Mutinous Crew, Who Submit to Him_\nIt was just at the top of high-water when these people came on shore;\nand while partly they stood parleying with the prisoners they brought,\nand partly while they rambled about to see what kind of a place they\nwere in, they had carelessly stayed till the tide was spent, and the\nwater was ebbed considerably away, leaving their boat aground.\nThey had left two men in the boat, who, as I found afterwards, having\ndrank a little too much brandy, fell asleep. However, one of them\nwaking sooner than the other, and finding the boat too fast aground\nfor him to stir it, hallooed for the rest, who were straggling about,\nupon which they all soon came to the boat; but it was past all their\nstrength to launch her, the boat being very heavy, and the shore on\nthat side being a soft oozy sand, almost like a quicksand.\nIn this condition, like true seamen, who are perhaps the least of all\nmankind given to forethought, they gave it over, and away they strolled\nabout the country again; and I heard one of them say aloud to another,\ncalling them off from the boat, \u201cWhy, let her alone, Jack, can\u2019t ye?\nshe will float next tide;\u201d by which I was fully confirmed in the main\ninquiry of what countrymen they were.\nAll this while I kept myself very close, not once daring to stir out\nof my castle, any farther than to my place of observation near the top\nof the hill; and very glad I was to think how well it was fortified. I\nknew it was no less than ten hours before the boat could be on float\nagain, and by that time it would be dark, and I might be at more\nliberty to see their motions, and to hear their discourse, if they had\nany.\nIn the meantime, I fitted myself up for a battle, as before, though\nwith more caution, knowing I had to do with another kind of enemy than\nI had at first. I ordered Friday also, whom I had made an excellent\nmarksman with his gun, to load himself with arms. I took myself two\nfowling-pieces, and I gave him three muskets. My figure, indeed, was\nvery fierce. I had my formidable goat-skin coat on, with the great cap\nI have mentioned, a naked sword by my side, two pistols in my belt, and\na gun upon each shoulder.\nIt was my design, as I said above, not to have made any attempt till\nit was dark; but about two o\u2019clock, being the heat of the day, I found\nthat, in short, they were all gone straggling into the wood, and, as I\nthought, were laid down to sleep. The three poor distressed men, too\nanxious for their condition to get any sleep, were, however, set down\nunder the shelter of a great tree, at about a quarter of a mile from\nme, and, as I thought, out of sight of any of the rest.\nUpon this I resolved to discover myself to them, and learn something of\ntheir condition. Immediately I marched in the figure as above, my man\nFriday at a good distance behind me, as formidable for his arms as I,\nbut not making quite so staring a spectre-like figure as I did.\nI came as near them undiscovered as I could, and then, before any\nof them saw me, I called aloud to them in Spanish, \u201cWhat are ye,\ngentlemen?\u201d\nThey started up at the noise, but were ten times more confounded when\nthey saw me, and the uncouth figure that I made. They made no answer\nat all, but I thought I perceived them just going to fly from me, when\nI spoke to them in English. \u201cGentlemen,\u201d said I, \u201cdo not be surprised\nat me; perhaps you may have a friend near you, when you did not expect\nit.\u201d \u201cHe must be sent directly from heaven then,\u201d said one of them very\ngravely to me, and pulling off his hat at the same time to me, \u201cfor our\ncondition is past the help of man.\u201d \u201cAll help is from heaven, sir,\u201d\nsaid I. \u201cBut can you put a stranger in the way how to help you, for you\nseem to me to be in some great distress? I saw you when you landed; and\nwhen you seemed to make applications to the brutes that came with you,\nI saw one of them lift up his sword to kill you.\u201d\nThe poor man, with tears running down his face, and trembling, looking\nlike one astonished, returned, \u201cAm I talking to God, or man? Is it\na real man, or an angel?\u201d \u201cBe in no fear about that, sir,\u201d said I.\n\u201cIf God had sent an angel to relieve you, he would have come better\nclothed, and armed after another manner than you see me in. Pray lay\naside your fears; I am a man, an Englishman, and disposed to assist\nyou, you see. I have one servant only; we have arms and ammunition;\ntell us freely, can we serve you? What is your case?\u201d\n\u201cOur case,\u201d said he, \u201csir, is too long to tell you while our murderers\nare so near; but in short, sir, I was commander of that ship; my men\nhave mutinied against me, they have been hardly prevailed on not to\nmurder me; and at last have set me on shore in this desolate place,\nwith these two men with me, one my mate, the other a passenger, where\nwe expected to perish, believing the place to be uninhabited, and know\nnot yet what to think of it.\u201d\n\u201cWhere are those brutes, your enemies?\u201d said I. \u201cDo you know where\nthey are gone?\u201d \u201cThere they lie, sir,\u201d said he, pointing to a thicket\nof trees. \u201cMy heart trembles for fear they have seen us, and heard you\nspeak. If they have, they will certainly murder us all.\u201d\n\u201cHave they any firearms?\u201d said I. He answered, \u201cThey have only two\npieces, and one which they left in the boat.\u201d \u201cWell then,\u201d said I,\n\u201cleave the rest to me, I see they are all asleep; it is an easy thing\nto kill them all; but shall we rather take them prisoners?\u201d He told me\nthere were two desperate villains among them that it was scarce safe to\nshow any mercy to; but if they were secured, he believed all the rest\nwould return to their duty. I asked him which they were? He told me he\ncould not at that distance describe them, but he would obey my orders\nin anything I would direct. \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201clet us retreat out of\ntheir view or hearing, lest they awake, and we will resolve farther.\u201d\nSo they willingly went back with me, till the woods covered us from\nthem.\n\u201cLook you, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cif I venture upon your deliverance, are you\nwilling to make two conditions with me?\u201d He anticipated my proposals,\nby telling me that both he and the ship, if recovered, should be\nwholly directed and commanded by me in everything; and if the ship was\nnot recovered, he would live and die with me in what part of the world\nsoever I would send him; and the two other men said the same.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cmy conditions are but two. 1. That while you stay on\nthis island with me, you will not pretend to any authority here; and if\nI put arms into your hands, you will, upon all occasions, give them up\nto me, and do no prejudice to me or mine upon this island; and in the\nmeantime, be governed by my orders. 2. That if the ship is, or may be,\nrecovered, you will carry me and my man to England, passage free.\u201d\nHe gave me all the assurances that the invention and faith of man\ncould devise that he would comply with these most reasonable demands;\nand, besides, would owe his life to me, and acknowledge it upon all\noccasions, as long as he lived.\n\u201cWell then,\u201d said I, \u201chere are three muskets for you, with powder and\nball; tell me next what you think is proper to be done.\u201d He showed\nall the testimony of his gratitude that he was able, but offered to\nbe wholly guided by me. I told him I thought it was hard venturing\nanything; but the best method I could think of was to fire upon them at\nonce, as they lay; and if any was not killed at the first volley, and\noffered to submit, we might save them, and so put it wholly upon God\u2019s\nprovidence to direct the shot.\nHe said very modestly that he was loth to kill them, if he could help\nit; but that those two were incorrigible villains, and had been the\nauthors of all the mutiny in the ship, and if they escaped, we should\nbe undone still; for they would go on board and bring the whole\nship\u2019s company, and destroy us all. \u201cWell then,\u201d says I, \u201cnecessity\nlegitimates my advice, for it is the only way to save our lives.\u201d\nHowever, seeing him still cautious of shedding blood, I told him they\nshould go themselves, and manage as they found convenient.\nIn the middle of this discourse we heard some of them awake, and soon\nafter we saw two of them on their feet. I asked him if either of them\nwere of the men who he had said were the heads of the mutiny? He said,\n\u201cNo.\u201d \u201cWell then,\u201d said I, \u201cyou may let them escape; and Providence\nseems to have wakened them on purpose to save themselves. Now,\u201d says I,\n\u201cif the rest escape you, it is your fault.\u201d\nAnimated by this, he took the musket I had given him in his hand, and\na pistol in his belt, and his two comrades with him, with each man\na piece in his hand. The two men who were with him going first made\nsome noise, at which one of the seamen who was awake turned about,\nand seeing them coming cried out to the rest; but it was too late\nthen, for the moment he cried out they fired; I mean the two men, the\ncaptain wisely reserving his own piece. They had so well aimed their\nshot at the men they knew, that one of them was killed on the spot, and\nthe other very much wounded; but not being dead, he started up upon\nhis feet, and called eagerly for help to the other. But the captain\nstepping to him, told him \u2019twas too late to cry for help, he should\ncall upon God to forgive his villainy; and with that word knocked him\ndown with the stock of his musket, so that he never spoke more. There\nwere three more in the company, and one of them was also slightly\nwounded. By this time I was come; and when they saw their danger, and\nthat it was in vain to resist, they begged for mercy. The captain told\nthem he would spare their lives if they would give him any assurance of\ntheir abhorrence of the treachery they had been guilty of, and would\nswear to be faithful to him in recovering the ship, and afterwards in\ncarrying her back to Jamaica, from whence they came. They gave him all\nthe protestations of their sincerity that could be desired, and he\nwas willing to believe them, and spare their lives, which I was not\nagainst, only I obliged him to keep them bound hand and foot while they\nwere upon the island.\nWhile this was doing, I sent Friday with the captain\u2019s mate to the\nboat, with orders to secure her, and bring away the oars and sail,\nwhich they did; and by and by three straggling men, that were (happily\nfor them) parted from the rest, came back upon hearing the guns fired;\nand seeing their captain, who before was their prisoner, now their\nconqueror, they submitted to be bound also, and so our victory was\ncomplete.\nIt now remained that the captain and I should inquire into one\nanother\u2019s circumstances. I began first, and told him my whole history,\nwhich he heard with an attention even to amazement; and particularly\nat the wonderful manner of my being furnished with provisions and\nammunition; and, indeed, as my story is a whole collection of wonders,\nit affected him deeply. But when he reflected from thence upon himself,\nand how I seemed to have been preserved there on purpose to save his\nlife, the tears ran down his face, and he could not speak a word more.\nAfter this communication was at an end, I carried him and his two men\ninto my apartment, leading them in just where I came out, viz., at the\ntop of the house, where I refreshed them with such provisions as I had,\nand showed them all the contrivances I had made during my long, long\ninhabiting that place.\nAll I showed them, all I said to them, was perfectly amazing; but\nabove all, the captain admired my fortification, and how perfectly I\nhad concealed my retreat with a grove of trees, which, having been\nnow planted near twenty years, and the trees growing much faster\nthan in England, was become a little wood, and so thick, that it was\nimpassable in any part of it but at that one side where I had reserved\nmy little winding passage into it. I told him this was my castle and\nmy residence, but that I had a seat in the country, as most princes\nhave, whither I could retreat upon occasion, and I would show him\nthat too another time; but at present, our business was to consider\nhow to recover the ship. He agreed with me as to that but told me he\nwas perfectly at a loss what measures to take, for that there were\nstill six and twenty hands on board, who having entered into a cursed\nconspiracy, by which they had all forfeited their lives to the law,\nwould be hardened in it now by desperation, and would carry it on,\nknowing that if they were reduced, they should be brought to the\ngallows as soon as they came to England, or to any of the English\ncolonies; and that therefore there would be no attacking them with so\nsmall a number as we were.\nI mused for some time upon what he said, and found it was a very\nrational conclusion, and that therefore something was to be resolved\non very speedily, as well to draw the men on board into some snare for\ntheir surprise, as to prevent their landing upon us, and destroying us.\nUpon this it presently occurred to me that in a little while the ship\u2019s\ncrew, wondering what was become of their comrades, and of the boat,\nwould certainly come on shore in their other boat to see for them; and\nthat then, perhaps, they might come armed, and be too strong for us.\nThis he allowed was rational.\nUpon this, I told him the first thing we had to do was to stave the\nboat, which lay upon the beach, so that they might not carry her off;\nand taking everything out of her, leave her so far useless as not to\nbe fit to swim. Accordingly we went on board, took the arms which were\nleft on board out of her, and what else we found there, which was a\nbottle of brandy, and another of rum, a few biscuit-cakes, a horn of\npowder, and a great lump of sugar in a piece of canvas--the sugar was\nfive or six pounds; all of which was very welcome to me, especially the\nbrandy and sugar, of which I had had none left for many years.\nWhen we had carried all these things on shore (the oars, mast, sail,\nand rudder of the boat were carried away before, as above), we knocked\na great hole in her bottom that if they had come strong enough to\nmaster us, yet they could not carry off the boat.\nIndeed, it was not much in my thoughts that we could be able to recover\nthe ship; but my view was, that if they went away without the boat, I\ndid not much question to make her fit again to carry us away to the\nLeeward Islands, and call upon our friends the Spaniards in my way;\nfor I had them still in my thoughts.\nWhile we were thus preparing our designs, and had first, by main\nstrength, heaved the boat up upon the beach so high that the tide would\nnot fleet her off at high-water mark; and besides, had broke a hole in\nher bottom too big to be quickly stopped, and were sat down musing what\nwe should do, we heard the ship fire a gun, and saw her make a waft\nwith her flag as a signal for the boat to come on board. But no boat\nstirred; and they fired several times, making other signals for the\nboat.\nAt last when all their signals and firings proved fruitless, and they\nfound the boat did not stir, we saw them, by the help of my glasses,\nhoist another boat out, and row towards the shore; and we found, as\nthey approached, that there was no less than ten men in her, and that\nthey had firearms with them.\nAs the ship lay almost two leagues from the shore we had a full view of\nthem as they came, and a plain sight of the men, even of their faces;\nbecause the tide having set them a little to the east of the other\nboat, they rowed up under shore, to come to the same place where the\nother had landed, and where the boat lay.\nBy this means, I say, we had a full view of them, and the captain knew\nthe persons and characters of all the men in the boat, of whom he said\nthat there were three very honest fellows, who, he was sure, were led\ninto this conspiracy by the rest, being overpowered and frightened; but\nthat as for the boatswain, who, it seems, was the chief officer among\nthem, and all the rest, they were as outrageous as any of the ship\u2019s\ncrew, and were no doubt made desperate in their new enterprise; and\nterribly apprehensive he was that they would be too powerful for us.\nI smiled at him, and told him that men in our circumstances were past\nthe operation of fear; that seeing almost every condition that could\nbe was better than that which we were supposed to be in, we ought to\nexpect that the consequence, whether death or life, would be sure to\nbe a deliverance. I asked him what he thought of the circumstances of\nmy life, and whether a deliverance were not worth venturing for? \u201cAnd\nwhere, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cis your belief of my being preserved here on\npurpose to save your life which elevated you a little while ago? For\nmy part,\u201d said I, \u201cthere seems to be but one thing amiss in all the\nprospect of it.\u201d \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d said he. \u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201c\u2019tis that,\nas you say, there are three or four honest fellows among them, which\nshould be spared; had they been all of the wicked part of the crew I\nshould have thought God\u2019s providence had singled them out to deliver\nthem into your hands; for depend upon it, every man of that that comes\nashore are our own, and shall die or live as they behave to us.\u201d\nAs I spoke this with a raised voice and cheerful countenance, I found\nit greatly encouraged him; so we set vigorously to our business. We\nhad, upon the first appearance of the boat\u2019s coming from the ship,\nconsidered of separating our prisoners, and had, indeed, secured them\neffectually.\nTwo of them, of whom the captain was less assured than ordinary, I sent\nwith Friday and one of the three delivered men to my cave, where they\nwere remote enough, and out of danger of being heard or discovered,\nor of finding their way out of the woods if they could have delivered\nthemselves. Here they left them bound, but gave them provisions, and\npromised them, if they continued there quietly, to give them their\nliberty in a day or two; but that if they attempted their escape, they\nshould be put to death without mercy. They promised faithfully to bear\ntheir confinement with patience, and were very thankful that they had\nsuch good usage as to have provisions and a light left them; for Friday\ngave them candles (such as we made ourselves) for their comfort; and\nthey did not know but that he stood sentinel over them at the entrance.\nThe other prisoners had better usage. Two of them were kept pinioned,\nindeed, because the captain was not free to trust them; but the other\ntwo were taken into my service, upon their captain\u2019s recommendation,\nand upon their solemnly engaging to live and die with us; so with them\nand the three honest men we were seven men well armed; and I made no\ndoubt we should be able to deal well enough with the ten that were\na-coming, considering that the captain had said there were three or\nfour honest men among them also.\nAs soon as they got to the place where their other boat lay, they ran\ntheir boat into the beach, and came all on shore, hauling the boat up\nafter them, which I was glad to see; for I was afraid they would rather\nhave left the boat at an anchor some distance from the shore, with some\nhands in her to guard her, and so we should not be able to seize the\nboat.\nBeing on shore, the first thing they did was to run to their other\nboat; and it was easy to see that they were under a great surprise to\nfind her stripped, as above, of all that was in her, and a great hole\nin her bottom.\nAfter they had mused a while upon this, they set up two or three great\nshouts, hallooing with all their might, to try if they could make their\ncompanions hear; but all was to no purpose. Then they came all close\nin a ring, and fired a volley of their small arms, which, indeed, we\nheard, and the echoes made the woods ring. But it was all one; those in\nthe cave we were sure could not hear, and those in our keeping, though\nthey heard it well enough, yet durst give no answer to them.\nThey were so astonished at the surprise of this, that, as they told us\nafterwards, they resolved to go all on board again, to their ship, and\nlet them know there that the men were all murdered, and the longboat\nstaved. Accordingly, they immediately launched their boat again, and\ngot all of them on board.\nThe captain was terribly amazed, and even confounded at this, believing\nthey would go on board the ship again, and set sail, giving their\ncomrades for lost, and so he should still lose the ship, which he\nwas in hopes we should have recovered; but he was quickly as much\nfrightened the other way.\nThey had not been long put off with the boat but we perceived them all\ncoming on shore again; but with this new measure in their conduct,\nwhich it seems they consulted together upon, viz., to leave three men\nin the boat, and the rest to go on shore, and go up into the country to\nlook for their fellows.\nThis was a great disappointment to us, for now we were at a loss what\nto do; for our seizing those seven men on shore would be no advantage\nto us if we let the boat escape, because they would then row away to\nthe ship, and then the rest of them would be sure to weigh and set\nsail, and so our recovering the ship would be lost. However, we had no\nremedy but to wait and see what the issue of things might present. The\nseven men came on shore, and the three who remained in the boat put her\noff to a good distance from the shore, and came to an anchor to wait\nfor them; so that it was impossible for us to come at them in the boat.\nThose that came on shore kept close together, marching towards the top\nof the little hill under which my habitation lay; and we could see them\nplainly, though they could not perceive us. We could have been very\nglad they would have come nearer to us, so that we might have fired at\nthem, or that they would have gone farther off, that we might have come\nabroad.\nBut when they were come to the brow of the hill, where they could see a\ngreat way into the valleys and woods which lay towards the north-east\npart, and where the island lay lowest, they shouted and hallooed till\nthey were weary; and not caring, it seems, to venture far from the\nshore, nor far from one another, they sat down together under a tree,\nto consider of it. Had they thought fit to have gone to sleep there,\nas the other party of them had done, they had done the job for us;\nbut they were too full of apprehensions of danger to venture to go to\nsleep, though they could not tell what the danger was they had to fear\nneither.\nThe captain made a very just proposal to me upon this consultation\nof theirs, viz., that perhaps they would all fire a volley again, to\nendeavor to make their fellows hear, and that we should all sally upon\nthem, just at the juncture when their pieces were all discharged, and\nthey would certainly yield, and we should have them without bloodshed.\nI liked the proposal, provided it was done while we were near enough to\ncome up to them before they could load their pieces again.\nBut this event did not happen, and we lay still a long time, very\nirresolute what course to take. At length I told them there would be\nnothing to be done, in my opinion, till night; and then, if they did\nnot return to the boat, perhaps we might find a way to get between them\nand the shore, and so might use some stratagem with them in the boat to\nget them on shore.\nWe waited a great while, though very impatient for their removing; and\nwere very uneasy when, after long consultations, we saw them start all\nup, and march down toward the sea. It seems they had such dreadful\napprehensions upon them of the danger of the place, that they resolved\nto go on board the ship again, give their companions over for lost, and\nso go on with their intended voyage with the ship.\nAs soon as I perceived them go towards the shore, I imagined it to be,\nas it really was, that they had given over their search, and were for\ngoing back again; and the captain, as soon as I told him my thoughts,\nwas ready to sink at the apprehensions of it; but I presently thought\nof a stratagem to fetch them back again, and which answered my end to a\ntittle.\nI ordered Friday and the captain\u2019s mate to go over the little creek\nwestward, towards the place where the savages came on shore when Friday\nwas rescued, and as soon as they came to a little rising ground, at\nabout half a mile distance, I bade them halloo as loud as they could,\nand wait till they found the seamen heard them; that as soon as ever\nthey heard the seamen answer them, they should return it again; and\nthen keeping out of sight, take a round, always answering when the\nothers hallooed, to draw them as far into the island, and among the\nwoods, as possible, and then wheel about again to me by such ways as I\ndirected them.\nThey were just going into the boat when Friday and the mate hallooed;\nand they presently heard them, and answering, ran along the shore\nwestward, towards the voice they heard, when they were presently\nstopped by the creek, where the water being up, they could not get\nover, and called for the boat to come up and set them over, as, indeed,\nI expected.\nWhen they had set themselves over, I observed that the boat being gone\nup a good way into the creek, and, as it were, in a harbor within the\nland, they took one of the three men out of her to go along with them,\nand left only two in the boat, having fastened her to the stump of a\nlittle tree on the shore.\nThat was what I wished for; and immediately, leaving Friday and the\ncaptain\u2019s mate to their business, I took the rest with me, and crossing\nthe creek out of their sight, we surprised the two men before they were\naware; one of them lying on shore, and the other being in the boat. The\nfellow on shore was between sleeping and waking, and going to start up.\nThe captain, who was foremost, ran in upon him, and knocked him down,\nand then called out to him in the boat to yield, or he was a dead man.\nThere needed very few arguments to persuade a single man to yield when\nhe saw five men upon him, and his comrade knocked down; besides, this\nwas, it seems, one of the three who were not so hearty in the mutiny\nas the rest of the crew and therefore was easily persuaded not only to\nyield but afterwards to join very sincerely with us.\nIn the meantime Friday and the captain\u2019s mate so well managed their\nbusiness with the rest that they drew them, by hallooing and answering,\nfrom one hill to another, and from one wood to another, till they not\nonly heartily tired them, but left them where they were very sure they\ncould not reach back to the boat before it was dark; and, indeed, they\nwere heartily tired themselves also by the time they came back to us.\nWe had nothing now to do but to watch for them in the dark, and to fall\nupon them, so as to make sure work with them.\nIt was several hours after Friday came back to me before they came back\nto their boat; and we could hear the foremost of them, long before they\ncame quite up, calling to those behind to come along, and could also\nhear them answer and complain how lame and tired they were, and not\nable to come any faster; which was very welcome news to us.\nAt length they came up to the boat; but \u2019tis impossible to express\ntheir confusion when they found the boat fast aground in the creek, the\ntide ebbed out, and their two men gone. We could hear them call to\none another in a most lamentable manner, telling one another they were\ngotten onto an enchanted island; that either there were inhabitants\non it, and they should all be murdered, or else there were devils and\nspirits on it, and they should be all carried away and devoured.\nThey hallooed again, and called their two comrades by their names a\ngreat many times; but no answer. After some time we could see them, by\nthe little light there was, run about, wringing their hands like men in\ndespair, and that sometimes they would go and sit down in the boat to\nrest themselves; then come ashore again, and walk about again, and so\nthe same thing over again.\nMy men would fain have me give them leave to fall upon them at once\nin the dark; but I was willing to take them at some advantage, so to\nspare them, and kill as few of them as I could; and especially I was\nunwilling to hazard the killing any of our own men, knowing the others\nwere very well armed. I resolved to wait, to see if they did not\nseparate; and, therefore, to make sure of them, I drew my ambuscade\nnearer, and ordered Friday and the captain to creep upon their hands\nand feet, as close to the ground as they could, that they might not be\ndiscovered, and get as near them as they could possibly, before they\noffered to fire.\nThey had not been long in that posture but that the boatswain, who was\nthe principal ringleader of the mutiny, and had now shown himself the\nmost dejected and dispirited of all the rest, came walking towards\nthem, with two more of their crew. The captain was so eager, as having\nthis principal rogue so much in his power, that he could hardly have\npatience to let him come so near as to be sure of him, for they only\nheard his tongue before; but when they came nearer, the captain and\nFriday, starting up on their feet, let fly at them.\nThe boatswain was killed upon the spot; the next man was shot into the\nbody, and fell just by him, though he did not die till an hour or two\nafter; and the third ran for it.\nAt the noise of the fire I immediately advanced with my whole army,\nwhich was now eight men, viz., myself, generalissimo; Friday, my\nlieutenant-general; the captain and his two men, and the three\nprisoners of war, whom we had trusted with arms.\nWe came upon them, indeed, in the dark, so that they could not see our\nnumber; and I made the man we had left in the boat, who was now one of\nus, call to them by name, to try if I could bring them to a parley,\nand so might perhaps reduce them to terms, which fell out just as we\ndesired; for indeed it was easy to think, as their condition then was,\nthey would be very willing to capitulate. So he calls out as loud as\nhe could to one of them, \u201cTom Smith! Tom Smith!\u201d Tom Smith answered\nimmediately, \u201cWho\u2019s that? Robinson?\u201d For it seems he knew his voice.\nThe other answered, \u201cAy, ay; for God\u2019s sake, Tom Smith, throw down your\narms and yield, or you are all dead men this moment.\u201d\n\u201cWho must we yield to? Where are they?\u201d says Smith again. \u201cHere they\nare,\u201d says he; \u201chere\u2019s our captain, and fifty men with him, have been\nhunting you this two hours; the boatswain is killed, Will Frye is\nwounded, and I am a prisoner; and if you do not yield, you are all\nlost.\u201d\n\u201cWill they give us quarter then,\u201d says Tom Smith, \u201cand we will yield?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll go and ask, if you promise to yield,\u201d says Robinson. So he asked\nthe captain, and the captain then calls himself out, \u201cYou, Smith, you\nknow my voice, if you lay down your arms immediately, and submit, you\nshall have your lives, all but Will Atkins.\u201d\nCHAPTER XXVII\n_Atkins Entreats the Captain to Spare His Life--The Latter Recovers His\nVessel from the Mutineers, and Robinson Leaves the Island_\nUpon this Will Atkins cried out, \u201cFor God\u2019s sake, captain, give me\nquarter; what have I done? They have been all as bad as I\u201d; which, by\nthe way, was not true neither; for, it seems, this Will Atkins was the\nfirst man that laid hold of the captain when they first mutinied, and\nused him barbarously, in tying his hands, and giving him injurious\nlanguage. However, the captain told him he must lay down his arms at\ndiscretion, and trust to the governor\u2019s mercy; by which he meant me,\nfor they all called me governor.\nIn a word they all laid down their arms, and begged their lives; and I\nsent the man that had parleyed with them and two more, who bound them\nall; and then my great army of fifty men, which, particularly with\nthose three, were all but eight, came up and seized upon them all, and\nupon their boat; only that I kept myself and one more out of sight for\nreasons of state.\nOur next work was to repair the boat, and think of seizing the ship;\nand as for the captain, now he had leisure to parley with them, he\nexpostulated with them upon the villainy of their practices with him,\nand at length upon the farther wickedness of their design, and how\ncertainly it must bring them to misery and distress in the end, and\nperhaps to the gallows.\nThey all appeared very penitent, and begged hard for their lives.\nAs for that, he told them they were none of his prisoners, but the\ncommander of the island; that they thought they had set him on shore\nin a barren uninhabited island; but it had pleased God so to direct\nthem that the island was inhabited, and that the governor was an\nEnglishman; that he might hang them all there, if he pleased; but as he\nhad given them all quarter, he supposed he would send them to England,\nto be dealt with there as justice required, except Atkins, whom he was\ncommanded by the governor to advise to prepare for death, for that he\nwould be hanged in the morning.\nThough this was all a fiction of his own, yet it had its desired\neffect. Atkins fell upon his knees, to beg the captain to intercede\nwith the governor for his life; and all the rest begged of him, for\nGod\u2019s sake, that they might not be sent to England.\nIt now occurred to me that the time of our deliverance was come, and\nthat it would be a most easy thing to bring these fellows in to be\nhearty in getting possession of the ship; so I retired in the dark from\nthem, that they might not see what kind of a governor they had, and\ncalled the captain to me. When I called, as at a good distance, one of\nthe men was ordered to speak again, and say to the captain, \u201cCaptain,\nthe commander calls for you.\u201d And presently the captain replied, \u201cTell\nhis excellency I am just a-coming.\u201d This more perfectly amazed them,\nand they all believed that the commander was just by with his fifty men.\nUpon the captain\u2019s coming to me, I told him my project for seizing\nthe ship, which he liked wonderfully well, and resolved to put it in\nexecution the next morning. But in order to execute it with more art,\nand secure of success, I told him we must divide the prisoners, and\nthat he should go and take Atkins and two more of the worst of them,\nand send them pinioned to the cave where the others lay. This was\ncommitted to Friday and the two men who came on shore with the captain.\nThey conveyed them to the cave, as to a prison. And it was, indeed,\na dismal place, especially to men in their condition. The others I\nordered to my bower, as I called it, of which I have given a full\ndescription; and as it was fenced in, and they pinioned, the place was\nsecure enough, considering they were upon their behavior.\nTo these in the morning I sent the captain, who was to enter into\na parley with them; in a word, to try them, and tell me whether he\nthought they might be trusted or no to go on board and surprise the\nship. He talked to them of the injury done him, of the condition they\nwere brought to; and that though the governor had given them quarter\nfor their lives as to the present action, yet that if they were sent\nto England they would all be hanged in chains, to be sure; but that if\nthey would join in so just an attempt as to recover the ship, he would\nhave the governor\u2019s engagement for their pardon.\nAny one may guess how readily such a proposal would be accepted by men\nin their condition. They fell down on their knees to the captain, and\npromised, with the deepest imprecations, that they would be faithful to\nhim to the last drop, and that they should owe their lives to him and\nwould go with him all over the world; that they would own him for a\nfather to them as long as they lived.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says the captain, \u201cI must go and tell the governor what you\nsay, and see what I can do to bring him to consent to it.\u201d So he\nbrought me an account of the temper he found them in, and that he\nverily believed they would be faithful.\nHowever, that we might be very secure, I told him he should go back\nagain and choose out five of them, and tell them they might see that\nhe did not want men, that he would take out those five to be his\nassistants, and that the governor would keep the other two and the\nthree that were sent prisoners to the castle, my cave, as hostages for\nthe fidelity of those five; and that if they proved unfaithful in the\nexecution, the five hostages should be hanged in chains alive upon the\nshore.\nThis looked severe, and convinced them that the governor was in\nearnest. However, they had no way left then but to accept it; and it\nwas now the business of the prisoners as much as of the captain, to\npersuade the other five to do their duty.\nOur strength was now thus ordered for the expedition. 1. The captain,\nhis mate, and passenger. 2. Then the two prisoners of the first gang,\nto whom, having their characters from the captain, I had given their\nliberty, and trusted them with arms. 3. The other two whom I had kept\ntill now in my bower, pinioned, but upon the captain\u2019s motion had now\nreleased. 4. These five released at last; so that they were twelve in\nall, besides five we kept prisoners in the cave for hostages.\nI asked the captain if he was willing to venture with these hands on\nboard the ship; for as for me and my man Friday, I did not think it\nwas proper for us to stir, having seven men left behind, and it was\nemployment enough for us to keep them asunder and supply them with\nvictuals. As to the five in the cave, I resolved to keep them fast; but\nFriday went in twice a day to them, to supply them with necessaries,\nand I made the other two carry provisions to a certain distance, where\nFriday was to take it.\nWhen I showed myself to the two hostages it was with the captain, who\ntold them I was the person the governor had ordered to look after them,\nand that it was the governor\u2019s pleasure they should not stir anywhere\nbut by my direction; that if they did, they should be fetched into the\ncastle, and be laid in irons; so that as we never suffered them to see\nme as governor, so I now appeared as another person, and spoke of the\ngovernor, the garrison, the castle, and the like, upon all occasions.\nThe captain now had no difficulty before him but to furnish his two\nboats, stop the breach of one, and man them. He made his passenger\ncaptain of one, with four other men; and himself, and his mate, and\nfive more went in the other; and they contrived their business very\nwell, for they came up to the ship about midnight. As soon as they came\nwithin call of the ship, he made Robinson hail them, and tell them\nthey had brought off the men and the boat, but that it was a long time\nbefore they had found them, and the like, holding them in a chat till\nthey came to the ship\u2019s side; when the captain and the mate entering\nfirst, with their arms, immediately knocked down the second mate and\ncarpenter with the butt-end of their muskets, being very faithfully\nseconded by their men. They secured all the rest that were upon the\nmain and quarter-decks, and began to fasten the hatches to keep them\ndown who were below; when the other boat and their men entering at\nthe forechains, secured the forecastle of the ship, and the scuttle\nwhich went down into the cookroom, making three men they found there\nprisoners.\nWhen this was done, and all safe upon the deck, the captain ordered the\nmate, with three men, to break into the roundhouse, where the new rebel\ncaptain lay, and having taken the alarm was gotten up, and with two men\nand a boy had gotten firearms in their hands; and when the mate with\na crow split open the door, the new captain and his men fired boldly\namong them, and wounded the mate with a musket-ball, which broke his\narm, and wounded two more of the men, but killed nobody.\nThe mate calling for help, rushed however into the roundhouse, wounded\nas he was, and with his pistol shot the new captain through the head,\nthe bullet entering at his mouth and came out again behind one of his\nears, so that he never spoke a word; upon which the rest yielded, and\nthe ship was taken effectually, without any more lives lost.\nAs soon as the ship was thus secured, the captain ordered seven guns to\nbe fired, which was the signal agreed upon with me to give me notice\nof his success, which you may be sure I was very glad to hear, having\nsat watching upon the shore for it till near two of the clock in the\nmorning.\nHaving thus heard the signal plainly, I laid me down; and it having\nbeen a day of great fatigue to me, I slept very sound, till I was\nsomething surprised with the noise of a gun; and presently starting\nup, I heard a man call me by the name of \u201cGovernor, Governor,\u201d and\npresently I knew the captain\u2019s voice; when climbing up to the top of\nthe hill, there he stood, and pointing to the ship, he embraced me in\nhis arms. \u201cMy dear friend and deliverer,\u201d says he, \u201cthere\u2019s your ship,\nfor she is all yours, and so are we, and all that belong to her.\u201d I\ncast my eyes to the ship, and there she rode within little more than\nhalf mile of the shore; for they had weighed her anchor as soon as they\nwere masters of her, and the weather being fair, had brought her to an\nanchor just against the mouth of the little creek, and the tide being\nup, the captain had brought the pinnace in near the place where I at\nfirst landed my rafts, and so landed just at my door.\nI was at first ready to sink down with the surprise; for I saw my\ndeliverance, indeed, visibly put into my hands, all things easy, and\na large ship just ready to carry me away whither I pleased to go. At\nfirst, for some time I was not able to answer him one word; but as he\nhad taken me in his arms, I held fast by him, or I should have fallen\nto the ground.\nHe perceived the surprise, and immediately pulled a bottle out of his\npocket, and gave me a dram of cordial, which he had brought on purpose\nfor me. After I drank it, I sat down upon the ground; and though it\nbrought me to myself, yet it was a good while before I could speak a\nword to him.\nAll this while the poor man was in as great an ecstasy as I, only not\nunder any surprise, as I was; and he said a thousand kind tender\nthings to me, to compose me and bring me to myself. But such was the\nflood of joy in my breast, that it put all my spirits into confusion.\nAt last it broke out into tears, and in a little while after I\nrecovered my speech.\nThen I took my turn, and embraced him as my deliverer, and we rejoiced\ntogether. I told him I looked upon him as a man sent from heaven to\ndeliver me, and that the whole transaction seemed to be a chain of\nwonders; that such things as these were the testimonies we had of a\nsecret hand of Providence governing the world, and an evidence that the\neyes of an infinite Power could search into the remotest corner of the\nworld, and send help to the miserable whenever He pleased.\nI forgot not to lift up my heart in thankfulness to heaven; and what\nheart could forbear to bless Him, who had not only in a miraculous\nmanner provided for one in such a wilderness, and in such a desolate\ncondition, but from whom every deliverance must always be acknowledged\nto proceed?\nWhen we had talked a while, the captain told me he had brought me some\nlittle refreshment, such as the ship afforded, and such as the wretches\nthat had been so long his masters had not plundered him of. Upon this\nhe called aloud to the boat, and bid his men bring the things ashore\nthat were for the governor; and, indeed, it was a present as if I had\nbeen one, not that was to be carried away along with them, but as if I\nhad been to dwell upon the island still, and they were to go without me.\n[Illustration: \u201c_At first, for some time, I was not able to answer him\none word; but as he had taken me in his arms, I held fast by him, or I\nshould have fallen to the ground_\u201d]\nFirst, he had brought me a case of bottles full of excellent cordial\nwaters, six large bottles of Madeira wine (the bottles held two\nquarts apiece), two pounds of excellent good tobacco, twelve good\npieces of the ship\u2019s beef, and six pieces of pork, with a bag of peas,\nand about a hundredweight of biscuit.\nHe brought me also a box of sugar, a box of flour, a bag full of\nlemons, and two bottles of lime-juice, and abundance of other things;\nbut besides these, and what was a thousand times more useful to me, he\nbrought me six clean new shirts, six very good neckcloths, two pair of\ngloves, one pair of shoes, a hat, and one pair of stockings, and a very\ngood suit of clothes of his own, which had been worn but very little;\nin a word, he clothed me from head to foot.\nIt was a very kind and agreeable present, as any one may imagine, to\none in my circumstances; but never was anything in the world of that\nkind so unpleasant, awkward, and uneasy, as it was to me to wear such\nclothes at their first putting on.\nAfter these ceremonies passed, and after all his good things were\nbrought into my little apartment, we began to consult what was to be\ndone with the prisoners we had; for it was worth considering whether\nwe might venture to take them with us or no, especially two of them,\nwhom we knew to be incorrigible and refractory to the last degree;\nand the captain said he knew they were such rogues, that there was no\nobliging them; and if he did carry them away, it must be in irons,\nas malefactors, to be delivered over to justice at the first English\ncolony he could come at; and I found that the captain himself was very\nanxious about it.\nUpon this I told him that, if he desired it, I durst undertake to bring\nthe two men he spoke of to make it their own request that he should\nleave them upon the island. \u201cI should be very glad of that,\u201d says the\ncaptain, \u201cwith all my heart.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cI will send for them up, and talk with them for you.\u201d\nSo I caused Friday and the two hostages, for they were now discharged,\ntheir comrades having performed their promise; I say I caused them to\ngo to the cave and bring up the five men, pinioned as they were, to the\nbower, and keep them there till I came.\nAfter some time I came thither, dressed in my new habit; and now I was\ncalled governor again. Being all met, and the captain with me, I caused\nthe men to be brought before me, and I told them I had had a full\naccount of their villainous behavior to the captain, and how they had\nrun away with the ship, and were preparing to commit farther robberies,\nbut that Providence had ensnared them in their own ways, and that they\nwere fallen into the pit which they had digged for others.\nI let them know that by my direction the ship had been seized, that\nshe lay now in the road, and they might see, by and by, that their new\ncaptain had received the reward of his villainy, for that they might\nsee him hanging at the yard-arm; that as to them, I wanted to know what\nthey had to say why I should not execute them as pirates, taken in the\nfact, as by my commission they could not doubt I had authority to do.\nOne of them answered in the name of the rest that they had nothing\nto say but this, that when they were taken the captain promised them\ntheir lives, and they humbly implored my mercy. But I told them I knew\nnot what mercy to show them; for as for myself, I had resolved to quit\nthe island with all my men, and had taken passage with the captain\nto go for England. And as for the captain, he could not carry them to\nEngland other than as prisoners in irons, to be tried for mutiny, and\nrunning away with the ship; the consequence of which, they must needs\nknow, would be the gallows; so that I could not tell which was best for\nthem, unless they had a mind to take their fate in the island. If they\ndesired that, I did not care, as I had liberty to leave it. I had some\ninclination to give them their lives, if they thought they could shift\non shore.\nThey seemed very thankful for it and said they would much rather\nventure to stay there than to be carried to England to be hanged; so I\nleft it on that issue.\nHowever, the captain seemed to make some difficulty of it, as if he\ndurst not leave them there. Upon this I seemed a little angry with the\ncaptain, and told him that they were my prisoners, not his; and that\nseeing I had offered them so much favor, I would be as good as my word;\nand that if he did not think fit to consent to it, I would set them at\nliberty, as I found them; and if he did not like it, he might take them\nagain if he could catch them.\nUpon this they appeared very thankful, and I accordingly set them at\nliberty, and bade them retire into the woods to the place whence they\ncame, and I would leave them some firearms, some ammunition, and some\ndirections how they should live very well, if they thought fit.\nUpon this I prepared to go on board the ship, but told the captain that\nI would stay that night to prepare my things, and desired him to go on\nboard in the meantime, and keep all right in the ship, and send the\nboat on shore the next day for me; ordering him, in the meantime, to\ncause the new captain, who was killed, to be hanged at the yard-arm,\nthat these men might see him.\nWhen the captain was gone, I sent for the men up to me to my apartment,\nand entered seriously into discourse with them of their circumstances.\nI told them I thought they had made a right choice; that if the captain\ncarried them away, they would certainly be hanged. I showed them the\nnew captain hanging at the yard-arm of the ship, and told them they had\nnothing less to expect.\nWhen they had all declared their willingness to stay, I then told\nthem I would let them into the story of my living there, and put them\ninto the way of making it easy to them. Accordingly I gave them the\nwhole history of the place, and of my coming to it, showed them my\nfortifications, the way I made my bread, planted my corn, cured my\ngrapes; and in a word, all that was necessary to make them easy. I told\nthem the story also of the sixteen Spaniards that were to be expected,\nfor whom I left a letter, and made them promise to treat them in common\nwith themselves.\nI left them my firearms, viz., five muskets, three fowling-pieces, and\nthree swords. I had above a barrel and half of powder left; for after\nthe first year or two I used but little, and wasted none. I gave them a\ndescription of the way I managed the goats, and directions to milk and\nfatten them, and to make both butter and cheese.\nIn a word, I gave them every part of my own story, and I told them I\nwould prevail with the captain to leave them two barrels of gunpowder\nmore, and some garden seeds, which I told them I would have been very\nglad of. Also I gave them the bag of peas which the captain had brought\nme to eat, and bade them be sure to sow and increase them.\nHaving done all this, I left them the next day, and went on board the\nship. We prepared immediately to sail, but did not weigh that night.\nThe next morning early two of the five men came swimming to the ship\u2019s\nside, and making a most lamentable complaint of the other three, begged\nto be taken into the ship for God\u2019s sake, for they should be murdered,\nand begged the captain to take them on board, though he hanged them\nimmediately.\nUpon this, the captain pretended to have no power without me; but\nafter some difficulty, and after their solemn promises of amendment,\nthey were taken on board, and were some time after soundly whipped and\npickled, after which they proved very honest and quiet fellows.\nSome time after this the boat was ordered on shore, the tide being\nup, with the things promised to the men, to which the captain, at my\nintercession, caused their chests and clothes to be added, which they\ntook, and were very thankful for. I also encouraged them by telling\nthem that if it lay in my way to send any vessel to take them in, I\nwould not forget them.\nWhen I took leave of this island, I carried on board, for relics, the\ngreat goat-skin cap I had made, my umbrella, and my parrot; also I\nforgot not to take the money I formerly mentioned, which had lain by me\nso long useless that it was grown rusty or tarnished, and could hardly\npass for silver till it had been a little rubbed and handled; as also\nthe money I found in the wreck of the Spanish ship.\nAnd thus I left the island, the 19th of December, as I found by the\nship\u2019s account, in the year 1686, after I had been upon it eight and\ntwenty years, two months, and nineteen days, being delivered from this\nsecond captivity the same day of the month that I first made my escape\nin the _barco-longo_, from among the Moors of Sallee.\nIn this vessel, after a long voyage, I arrived in England, the 11th of\nJune, in the year 1687, having been thirty and five years absent.\n[Illustration: (back cover)]\nTranscriber\u2019s Notes\nPunctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a\npredominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they\nwere not changed.\nSimple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation\nmarks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left\nunbalanced.\nIllustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs\nand outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support\nhyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to\nthe corresponding illustrations.\nMany of the illustrations were poorly processed before transcription of\nthis book began, and one was in grayscale instead of color.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Robinson Crusoe\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "[Illustration]\nA Journal of the Plague Year\nby Daniel Defoe\n      being Observations or Memorials\n      of the most remarkable occurrences,\n      as well public as_ private, which happened in London\n      during the last great visitation in 1665.\n       Written by a CITIZEN who continued\n      all the while in London_.\n      Never made publick before\n      It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the\n      rest of my neighbours, heard in ordinary discourse that the\n      plague was returned again in Holland; for it had been very\n      violent there, and particularly at Amsterdam and Rotterdam, in\n      the year 1663, whither, they say, it was brought, some said from\n      Italy, others from the Levant, among some goods which were\n      brought home by their Turkey fleet; others said it was brought\n      from Candia; others from Cyprus. It mattered not from whence it\n      came; but all agreed it was come into Holland again.\n      We had no such thing as printed newspapers in those days to\n      spread rumours and reports of things, and to improve them by the\n      invention of men, as I have lived to see practised since. But\n      such things as these were gathered from the letters of merchants\n      and others who corresponded abroad, and from them was handed\n      about by word of mouth only; so that things did not spread\n      instantly over the whole nation, as they do now. But it seems\n      that the Government had a true account of it, and several\n      councils were held about ways to prevent its coming over; but all\n      was kept very private. Hence it was that this rumour died off\n      again, and people began to forget it as a thing we were very\n      little concerned in, and that we hoped was not true; till the\n      latter end of November or the beginning of December 1664 when two\n      men, said to be Frenchmen, died of the plague in Long Acre, or\n      rather at the upper end of Drury Lane. The family they were in\n      endeavoured to conceal it as much as possible, but as it had\n      gotten some vent in the discourse of the neighbourhood, the\n      Secretaries of State got knowledge of it; and concerning\n      themselves to inquire about it, in order to be certain of the\n      truth, two physicians and a surgeon were ordered to go to the\n      house and make inspection. This they did; and finding evident\n      tokens of the sickness upon both the bodies that were dead, they\n      gave their opinions publicly that they died of the plague.\n      Whereupon it was given in to the parish clerk, and he also\n      returned them to the Hall; and it was printed in the weekly bill\n      of mortality in the usual manner, thus\u2014\n     Plague, 2. Parishes infected, 1.\n      The people showed a great concern at this, and began to be\n      alarmed all over the town, and the more, because in the last week\n      in December 1664 another man died in the same house, and of the\n      same distemper. And then we were easy again for about six weeks,\n      when none having died with any marks of infection, it was said\n      the distemper was gone; but after that, I think it was about the\n      12th of February, another died in another house, but in the same\n      parish and in the same manner.\n      This turned the people\u2019s eyes pretty much towards that end of the\n      town, and the weekly bills showing an increase of burials in St\n      Giles\u2019s parish more than usual, it began to be suspected that the\n      plague was among the people at that end of the town, and that\n      many had died of it, though they had taken care to keep it as\n      much from the knowledge of the public as possible. This possessed\n      the heads of the people very much, and few cared to go through\n      Drury Lane, or the other streets suspected, unless they had\n      extraordinary business that obliged them to it\n      This increase of the bills stood thus: the usual number of\n      burials in a week, in the parishes of St Giles-in-the-Fields and\n      St Andrew\u2019s, Holborn, were from twelve to seventeen or nineteen\n      each, few more or less; but from the time that the plague first\n      began in St Giles\u2019s parish, it was observed that the ordinary\n      burials increased in number considerably. For example:\u2014\nFrom December 27 to January 3  { St Giles\u2019s      16\n     \u201d     January 30 \u201d February 7  { St Giles\u2019s      21\n      The like increase of the bills was observed in the parishes of St\n      Bride\u2019s, adjoining on one side of Holborn parish, and in the\n      parish of St James, Clerkenwell, adjoining on the other side of\n      Holborn; in both which parishes the usual numbers that died\n      weekly were from four to six or eight, whereas at that time they\n      were increased as follows:\u2014\nFrom December 20 to December 27  { St Bride\u2019s     0\n     \u201d    December 27 to January   3  { St Bride\u2019s     6\n     \u201d    January 31  \u201d February   7  { St Bride\u2019s    13\n      Besides this, it was observed with great uneasiness by the people\n      that the weekly bills in general increased very much during these\n      weeks, although it was at a time of the year when usually the\n      bills are very moderate.\n      The usual number of burials within the bills of mortality for a\n      week was from about 240 or thereabouts to 300. The last was\n      esteemed a pretty high bill; but after this we found the bills\n      successively increasing as follows:\u2014\n Buried.  Increased.\n      This last bill was really frightful, being a higher number than\n      had been known to have been buried in one week since the\n      preceding visitation of 1656.\n      However, all this went off again, and the weather proving cold,\n      and the frost, which began in December, still continuing very\n      severe even till near the end of February, attended with sharp\n      though moderate winds, the bills decreased again, and the city\n      grew healthy, and everybody began to look upon the danger as good\n      as over; only that still the burials in St Giles\u2019s continued\n      high. From the beginning of April especially they stood at\n      twenty-five each week, till the week from the 18th to the 25th,\n      when there was buried in St Giles\u2019s parish thirty, whereof two of\n      the plague and eight of the spotted-fever, which was looked upon\n      as the same thing; likewise the number that died of the\n      spotted-fever in the whole increased, being eight the week\n      before, and twelve the week above-named.\n      This alarmed us all again, and terrible apprehensions were among\n      the people, especially the weather being now changed and growing\n      warm, and the summer being at hand. However, the next week there\n      seemed to be some hopes again; the bills were low, the number of\n      the dead in all was but 388, there was none of the plague, and\n      but four of the spotted-fever.\n      But the following week it returned again, and the distemper was\n      spread into two or three other parishes, viz., St Andrew\u2019s,\n      Holborn; St Clement Danes; and, to the great affliction of the\n      city, one died within the walls, in the parish of St Mary\n      Woolchurch, that is to say, in Bearbinder Lane, near Stocks\n      Market; in all there were nine of the plague and six of the\n      spotted-fever. It was, however, upon inquiry found that this\n      Frenchman who died in Bearbinder Lane was one who, having lived\n      in Long Acre, near the infected houses, had removed for fear of\n      the distemper, not knowing that he was already infected.\n      This was the beginning of May, yet the weather was temperate,\n      variable, and cool enough, and people had still some hopes. That\n      which encouraged them was that the city was healthy: the whole\n      ninety-seven parishes buried but fifty-four, and we began to hope\n      that, as it was chiefly among the people at that end of the town,\n      it might go no farther; and the rather, because the next week,\n      which was from the 9th of May to the 16th, there died but three,\n      of which not one within the whole city or liberties; and St\n      Andrew\u2019s buried but fifteen, which was very low. \u2019Tis true St\n      Giles\u2019s buried two-and-thirty, but still, as there was but one of\n      the plague, people began to be easy. The whole bill also was very\n      low, for the week before the bill was but 347, and the week above\n      mentioned but 343. We continued in these hopes for a few days,\n      but it was but for a few, for the people were no more to be\n      deceived thus; they searched the houses and found that the plague\n      was really spread every way, and that many died of it every day.\n      So that now all our extenuations abated, and it was no more to be\n      concealed; nay, it quickly appeared that the infection had spread\n      itself beyond all hopes of abatement. That in the parish of St\n      Giles it was gotten into several streets, and several families\n      lay all sick together; and, accordingly, in the weekly bill for\n      the next week the thing began to show itself. There was indeed\n      but fourteen set down of the plague, but this was all knavery and\n      collusion, for in St Giles\u2019s parish they buried forty in all,\n      whereof it was certain most of them died of the plague, though\n      they were set down of other distempers; and though the number of\n      all the burials were not increased above thirty-two, and the\n      whole bill being but 385, yet there was fourteen of the\n      spotted-fever, as well as fourteen of the plague; and we took it\n      for granted upon the whole that there were fifty died that week\n      of the plague.\n      The next bill was from the 23rd of May to the 30th, when the\n      number of the plague was seventeen. But the burials in St Giles\u2019s\n      were fifty-three\u2014a frightful number!\u2014of whom they set down but\n      nine of the plague; but on an examination more strictly by the\n      justices of peace, and at the Lord Mayor\u2019s request, it was found\n      there were twenty more who were really dead of the plague in that\n      parish, but had been set down of the spotted-fever or other\n      distempers, besides others concealed.\n      But those were trifling things to what followed immediately\n      after; for now the weather set in hot, and from the first week in\n      June the infection spread in a dreadful manner, and the bills\n      rose high; the articles of the fever, spotted-fever, and teeth\n      began to swell; for all that could conceal their distempers did\n      it, to prevent their neighbours shunning and refusing to converse\n      with them, and also to prevent authority shutting up their\n      houses; which, though it was not yet practised, yet was\n      threatened, and people were extremely terrified at the thoughts\n      The second week in June, the parish of St Giles, where still the\n      weight of the infection lay, buried 120, whereof though the bills\n      said but sixty-eight of the plague, everybody said there had been\n      100 at least, calculating it from the usual number of funerals in\n      that parish, as above.\n      Till this week the city continued free, there having never any\n      died, except that one Frenchman whom I mentioned before, within\n      the whole ninety-seven parishes. Now there died four within the\n      city, one in Wood Street, one in Fenchurch Street, and two in\n      Crooked Lane. Southwark was entirely free, having not one yet\n      died on that side of the water.\n      I lived without Aldgate, about midway between Aldgate Church and\n      Whitechappel Bars, on the left hand or north side of the street;\n      and as the distemper had not reached to that side of the city,\n      our neighbourhood continued very easy. But at the other end of\n      the town their consternation was very great: and the richer sort\n      of people, especially the nobility and gentry from the west part\n      of the city, thronged out of town with their families and\n      servants in an unusual manner; and this was more particularly\n      seen in Whitechappel; that is to say, the Broad Street where I\n      lived; indeed, nothing was to be seen but waggons and carts, with\n      goods, women, servants, children, &c.; coaches filled with people\n      of the better sort and horsemen attending them, and all hurrying\n      away; then empty waggons and carts appeared, and spare horses\n      with servants, who, it was apparent, were returning or sent from\n      the countries to fetch more people; besides innumerable numbers\n      of men on horseback, some alone, others with servants, and,\n      generally speaking, all loaded with baggage and fitted out for\n      travelling, as anyone might perceive by their appearance.\n      This was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and as it\n      was a sight which I could not but look on from morning to night\n      (for indeed there was nothing else of moment to be seen), it\n      filled me with very serious thoughts of the misery that was\n      coming upon the city, and the unhappy condition of those that\n      would be left in it.\n      This hurry of the people was such for some weeks that there was\n      no getting at the Lord Mayor\u2019s door without exceeding difficulty;\n      there were such pressing and crowding there to get passes and\n      certificates of health for such as travelled abroad, for without\n      these there was no being admitted to pass through the towns upon\n      the road, or to lodge in any inn. Now, as there had none died in\n      the city for all this time, my Lord Mayor gave certificates of\n      health without any difficulty to all those who lived in the\n      ninety-seven parishes, and to those within the liberties too for\n      a while.\n      This hurry, I say, continued some weeks, that is to say, all the\n      month of May and June, and the more because it was rumoured that\n      an order of the Government was to be issued out to place\n      turnpikes and barriers on the road to prevent people travelling,\n      and that the towns on the road would not suffer people from\n      London to pass for fear of bringing the infection along with\n      them, though neither of these rumours had any foundation but in\n      the imagination, especially at-first.\n      I now began to consider seriously with myself concerning my own\n      case, and how I should dispose of myself; that is to say, whether\n      I should resolve to stay in London or shut up my house and flee,\n      as many of my neighbours did. I have set this particular down so\n      fully, because I know not but it may be of moment to those who\n      come after me, if they come to be brought to the same distress,\n      and to the same manner of making their choice; and therefore I\n      desire this account may pass with them rather for a direction to\n      themselves to act by than a history of my actings, seeing it may\n      not be of one farthing value to them to note what became of me.\n      I had two important things before me: the one was the carrying on\n      my business and shop, which was considerable, and in which was\n      embarked all my effects in the world; and the other was the\n      preservation of my life in so dismal a calamity as I saw\n      apparently was coming upon the whole city, and which, however\n      great it was, my fears perhaps, as well as other people\u2019s,\n      represented to be much greater than it could be.\n      The first consideration was of great moment to me; my trade was a\n      saddler, and as my dealings were chiefly not by a shop or chance\n      trade, but among the merchants trading to the English colonies in\n      America, so my effects lay very much in the hands of such. I was\n      a single man, \u2019tis true, but I had a family of servants whom I\n      kept at my business; had a house, shop, and warehouses filled\n      with goods; and, in short, to leave them all as things in such a\n      case must be left (that is to say, without any overseer or person\n      fit to be trusted with them), had been to hazard the loss not\n      only of my trade, but of my goods, and indeed of all I had in the\n      world.\n      I had an elder brother at the same time in London, and not many\n      years before come over from Portugal: and advising with him, his\n      answer was in three words, the same that was given in another\n      case quite different, viz., \u2018Master, save thyself.\u2019 In a word, he\n      was for my retiring into the country, as he resolved to do\n      himself with his family; telling me what he had, it seems, heard\n      abroad, that the best preparation for the plague was to run away\n      from it. As to my argument of losing my trade, my goods, or\n      debts, he quite confuted me. He told me the same thing which I\n      argued for my staying, viz., that I would trust God with my\n      safety and health, was the strongest repulse to my pretensions of\n      losing my trade and my goods; \u2018for\u2019, says he, \u2018is it not as\n      reasonable that you should trust God with the chance or risk of\n      losing your trade, as that you should stay in so eminent a point\n      of danger, and trust Him with your life?\u2019\n      I could not argue that I was in any strait as to a place where to\n      go, having several friends and relations in Northamptonshire,\n      whence our family first came from; and particularly, I had an\n      only sister in Lincolnshire, very willing to receive and\n      entertain me.\n      My brother, who had already sent his wife and two children into\n      Bedfordshire, and resolved to follow them, pressed my going very\n      earnestly; and I had once resolved to comply with his desires,\n      but at that time could get no horse; for though it is true all\n      the people did not go out of the city of London, yet I may\n      venture to say that in a manner all the horses did; for there was\n      hardly a horse to be bought or hired in the whole city for some\n      weeks. Once I resolved to travel on foot with one servant, and,\n      as many did, lie at no inn, but carry a soldier\u2019s tent with us,\n      and so lie in the fields, the weather being very warm, and no\n      danger from taking cold. I say, as many did, because several did\n      so at last, especially those who had been in the armies in the\n      war which had not been many years past; and I must needs say\n      that, speaking of second causes, had most of the people that\n      travelled done so, the plague had not been carried into so many\n      country towns and houses as it was, to the great damage, and\n      indeed to the ruin, of abundance of people.\n      But then my servant, whom I had intended to take down with me,\n      deceived me; and being frighted at the increase of the distemper,\n      and not knowing when I should go, he took other measures, and\n      left me, so I was put off for that time; and, one way or other, I\n      always found that to appoint to go away was always crossed by\n      some accident or other, so as to disappoint and put it off again;\n      and this brings in a story which otherwise might be thought a\n      needless digression, viz., about these disappointments being from\n      Heaven.\n      I mention this story also as the best method I can advise any\n      person to take in such a case, especially if he be one that makes\n      conscience of his duty, and would be directed what to do in it,\n      namely, that he should keep his eye upon the particular\n      providences which occur at that time, and look upon them\n      complexly, as they regard one another, and as all together regard\n      the question before him: and then, I think, he may safely take\n      them for intimations from Heaven of what is his unquestioned duty\n      to do in such a case; I mean as to going away from or staying in\n      the place where we dwell, when visited with an infectious\n      distemper.\n      It came very warmly into my mind one morning, as I was musing on\n      this particular thing, that as nothing attended us without the\n      direction or permission of Divine Power, so these disappointments\n      must have something in them extraordinary; and I ought to\n      consider whether it did not evidently point out, or intimate to\n      me, that it was the will of Heaven I should not go. It\n      immediately followed in my thoughts, that if it really was from\n      God that I should stay, He was able effectually to preserve me in\n      the midst of all the death and danger that would surround me; and\n      that if I attempted to secure myself by fleeing from my\n      habitation, and acted contrary to these intimations, which I\n      believe to be Divine, it was a kind of flying from God, and that\n      He could cause His justice to overtake me when and where He\n      thought fit.\n      These thoughts quite turned my resolutions again, and when I came\n      to discourse with my brother again I told him that I inclined to\n      stay and take my lot in that station in which God had placed me,\n      and that it seemed to be made more especially my duty, on the\n      account of what I have said.\n      My brother, though a very religious man himself, laughed at all I\n      had suggested about its being an intimation from Heaven, and told\n      me several stories of such foolhardy people, as he called them,\n      as I was; that I ought indeed to submit to it as a work of Heaven\n      if I had been any way disabled by distempers or diseases, and\n      that then not being able to go, I ought to acquiesce in the\n      direction of Him, who, having been my Maker, had an undisputed\n      right of sovereignty in disposing of me, and that then there had\n      been no difficulty to determine which was the call of His\n      providence and which was not; but that I should take it as an\n      intimation from Heaven that I should not go out of town, only\n      because I could not hire a horse to go, or my fellow was run away\n      that was to attend me, was ridiculous, since at the time I had my\n      health and limbs, and other servants, and might with ease travel\n      a day or two on foot, and having a good certificate of being in\n      perfect health, might either hire a horse or take post on the\n      road, as I thought fit.\n      Then he proceeded to tell me of the mischievous consequences\n      which attended the presumption of the Turks and Mahometans in\n      Asia and in other places where he had been (for my brother, being\n      a merchant, was a few years before, as I have already observed,\n      returned from abroad, coming last from Lisbon), and how,\n      presuming upon their professed predestinating notions, and of\n      every man\u2019s end being predetermined and unalterably beforehand\n      decreed, they would go unconcerned into infected places and\n      converse with infected persons, by which means they died at the\n      rate of ten or fifteen thousand a week, whereas the Europeans or\n      Christian merchants, who kept themselves retired and reserved,\n      generally escaped the contagion.\n      Upon these arguments my brother changed my resolutions again, and\n      I began to resolve to go, and accordingly made all things ready;\n      for, in short, the infection increased round me, and the bills\n      were risen to almost seven hundred a week, and my brother told me\n      he would venture to stay no longer. I desired him to let me\n      consider of it but till the next day, and I would resolve: and as\n      I had already prepared everything as well as I could as to MY\n      business, and whom to entrust my affairs with, I had little to do\n      but to resolve.\n      I went home that evening greatly oppressed in my mind,\n      irresolute, and not knowing what to do. I had set the evening\n      wholly apart to consider seriously about it, and was all alone;\n      for already people had, as it were by a general consent, taken up\n      the custom of not going out of doors after sunset; the reasons I\n      shall have occasion to say more of by-and-by.\n      In the retirement of this evening I endeavoured to resolve,\n      first, what was my duty to do, and I stated the arguments with\n      which my brother had pressed me to go into the country, and I\n      set, against them the strong impressions which I had on my mind\n      for staying; the visible call I seemed to have from the\n      particular circumstance of my calling, and the care due from me\n      for the preservation of my effects, which were, as I might say,\n      my estate; also the intimations which I thought I had from\n      Heaven, that to me signified a kind of direction to venture; and\n      it occurred to me that if I had what I might call a direction to\n      stay, I ought to suppose it contained a promise of being\n      preserved if I obeyed.\n      This lay close to me, and my mind seemed more and more encouraged\n      to stay than ever, and supported with a secret satisfaction that\n      I should be kept. Add to this, that, turning over the Bible which\n      lay before me, and while my thoughts were more than ordinarily\n      serious upon the question, I cried out, \u2018Well, I know not what to\n      do; Lord, direct me !\u2019 and the like; and at that juncture I\n      happened to stop turning over the book at the ninety-first Psalm,\n      and casting my eye on the second verse, I read on to the seventh\n      verse exclusive, and after that included the tenth, as follows:\n      \u2018I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God,\n      in Him will I trust. Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare\n      of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover\n      thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust: His\n      truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid\n      for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;\n      nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the\n      destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy\n      side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come\n      nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the\n      reward of the wicked. Because thou hast made the Lord, which is\n      my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; there shall no\n      evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy\n      dwelling,\u2019 &C.\n      I scarce need tell the reader that from that moment I resolved\n      that I would stay in the town, and casting myself entirely upon\n      the goodness and protection of the Almighty, would not seek any\n      other shelter whatever; and that, as my times were in His hands,\n      He was as able to keep me in a time of the infection as in a time\n      of health; and if He did not think fit to deliver me, still I was\n      in His hands, and it was meet He should do with me as should seem\n      good to Him.\n      With this resolution I went to bed; and I was further confirmed\n      in it the next day by the woman being taken ill with whom I had\n      intended to entrust my house and all my affairs. But I had a\n      further obligation laid on me on the same side, for the next day\n      I found myself very much out of order also, so that if I would\n      have gone away, I could not, and I continued ill three or four\n      days, and this entirely determined my stay; so I took my leave of\n      my brother, who went away to Dorking, in Surrey, and afterwards\n      fetched a round farther into Buckinghamshire or Bedfordshire, to\n      a retreat he had found out there for his family.\n      It was a very ill time to be sick in, for if any one complained,\n      it was immediately said he had the plague; and though I had\n      indeed no symptom of that distemper, yet being very ill, both in\n      my head and in my stomach, I was not without apprehension that I\n      really was infected; but in about three days I grew better; the\n      third night I rested well, sweated a little, and was much\n      refreshed. The apprehensions of its being the infection went also\n      quite away with my illness, and I went about my business as\n      usual.\n      These things, however, put off all my thoughts of going into the\n      country; and my brother also being gone, I had no more debate\n      either with him or with myself on that subject.\n      It was now mid-July, and the plague, which had chiefly raged at\n      the other end of the town, and, as I said before, in the parishes\n      of St Giles, St Andrew\u2019s, Holborn, and towards Westminster, began\n      to now come eastward towards the part where I lived. It was to be\n      observed, indeed, that it did not come straight on towards us;\n      for the city, that is to say, within the walls, was indifferently\n      healthy still; nor was it got then very much over the water into\n      Southwark; for though there died that week 1268 of all\n      distempers, whereof it might be supposed above 600 died of the\n      plague, yet there was but twenty-eight in the whole city, within\n      the walls, and but nineteen in Southwark, Lambeth parish\n      included; whereas in the parishes of St Giles and St\n      Martin-in-the-Fields alone there died 421.\n      But we perceived the infection kept chiefly in the out-parishes,\n      which being very populous, and fuller also of poor, the distemper\n      found more to prey upon than in the city, as I shall observe\n      afterwards. We perceived, I say, the distemper to draw our way,\n      viz., by the parishes of Clarkenwell, Cripplegate, Shoreditch,\n      and Bishopsgate; which last two parishes joining to Aldgate,\n      Whitechappel, and Stepney, the infection came at length to spread\n      its utmost rage and violence in those parts, even when it abated\n      at the western parishes where it began.\n      It was very strange to observe that in this particular week, from\n      the 4th to the 11th of July, when, as I have observed, there died\n      near 400 of the plague in the two parishes of St Martin and St\n      Giles-in-the-Fields only, there died in the parish of Aldgate but\n      four, in the parish of Whitechappel three, in the parish of\n      Stepney but one.\n      Likewise in the next week, from the 11th of July to the 18th,\n      when the week\u2019s bill was 1761, yet there died no more of the\n      plague, on the whole Southwark side of the water, than sixteen.\n      But this face of things soon changed, and it began to thicken in\n      Cripplegate parish especially, and in Clarkenwell; so that by the\n      second week in August, Cripplegate parish alone buried 886, and\n      Clarkenwell 155. Of the first, 850 might well be reckoned to die\n      of the plague; and of the last, the bill itself said 145 were of\n      the plague.\n      During the month of July, and while, as I have observed, our part\n      of the town seemed to be spared in comparison of the west part, I\n      went ordinarily about the streets, as my business required, and\n      particularly went generally once in a day, or in two days, into\n      the city, to my brother\u2019s house, which he had given me charge of,\n      and to see if it was safe; and having the key in my pocket, I\n      used to go into the house, and over most of the rooms, to see\n      that all was well; for though it be something wonderful to tell,\n      that any should have hearts so hardened in the midst of such a\n      calamity as to rob and steal, yet certain it is that all sorts of\n      villainies, and even levities and debaucheries, were then\n      practised in the town as openly as ever\u2014I will not say quite as\n      frequently, because the numbers of people were many ways\n      lessened.\n      But the city itself began now to be visited too, I mean within\n      the walls; but the number of people there were indeed extremely\n      lessened by so great a multitude having been gone into the\n      country; and even all this month of July they continued to flee,\n      though not in such multitudes as formerly. In August, indeed,\n      they fled in such a manner that I began to think there would be\n      really none but magistrates and servants left in the city.\n      As they fled now out of the city, so I should observe that the\n      Court removed early, viz., in the month of June, and went to\n      Oxford, where it pleased God to preserve them; and the distemper\n      did not, as I heard of, so much as touch them, for which I cannot\n      say that I ever saw they showed any great token of thankfulness,\n      and hardly anything of reformation, though they did not want\n      being told that their crying vices might without breach of\n      charity be said to have gone far in bringing that terrible\n      judgement upon the whole nation.\n      The face of London was\u2014now indeed strangely altered: I mean the\n      whole mass of buildings, city, liberties, suburbs, Westminster,\n      Southwark, and altogether; for as to the particular part called\n      the city, or within the walls, that was not yet much infected.\n      But in the whole the face of things, I say, was much altered;\n      sorrow and sadness sat upon every face; and though some parts\n      were not yet overwhelmed, yet all looked deeply concerned; and,\n      as we saw it apparently coming on, so every one looked on himself\n      and his family as in the utmost danger. Were it possible to\n      represent those times exactly to those that did not see them, and\n      give the reader due ideas of the horror \u2018that everywhere\n      presented itself, it must make just impressions upon their minds\n      and fill them with surprise. London might well be said to be all\n      in tears; the mourners did not go about the streets indeed, for\n      nobody put on black or made a formal dress of mourning for their\n      nearest friends; but the voice of mourners was truly heard in the\n      streets. The shrieks of women and children at the windows and\n      doors of their houses, where their dearest relations were perhaps\n      dying, or just dead, were so frequent to be heard as we passed\n      the streets, that it was enough to pierce the stoutest heart in\n      the world to hear them. Tears and lamentations were seen almost\n      in every house, especially in the first part of the visitation;\n      for towards the latter end men\u2019s hearts were hardened, and death\n      was so always before their eyes, that they did not so much\n      concern themselves for the loss of their friends, expecting that\n      themselves should be summoned the next hour.\n      Business led me out sometimes to the other end of the town, even\n      when the sickness was chiefly there; and as the thing was new to\n      me, as well as to everybody else, it was a most surprising thing\n      to see those streets which were usually so thronged now grown\n      desolate, and so few people to be seen in them, that if I had\n      been a stranger and at a loss for my way, I might sometimes have\n      gone the length of a whole street (I mean of the by-streets), and\n      seen nobody to direct me except watchmen set at the doors of such\n      houses as were shut up, of which I shall speak presently.\n      One day, being at that part of the town on some special business,\n      curiosity led me to observe things more than usually, and indeed\n      I walked a great way where I had no business. I went up Holborn,\n      and there the street was full of people, but they walked in the\n      middle of the great street, neither on one side or other,\n      because, as I suppose, they would not mingle with anybody that\n      came out of houses, or meet with smells and scent from houses\n      that might be infected.\n      The Inns of Court were all shut up; nor were very many of the\n      lawyers in the Temple, or Lincoln\u2019s Inn, or Gray\u2019s Inn, to be\n      seen there. Everybody was at peace; there was no occasion for\n      lawyers; besides, it being in the time of the vacation too, they\n      were generally gone into the country. Whole rows of houses in\n      some places were shut close up, the inhabitants all fled, and\n      only a watchman or two left.\n      When I speak of rows of houses being shut up, I do not mean shut\n      up by the magistrates, but that great numbers of persons followed\n      the Court, by the necessity of their employments and other\n      dependences; and as others retired, really frighted with the\n      distemper, it was a mere desolating of some of the streets. But\n      the fright was not yet near so great in the city, abstractly so\n      called, and particularly because, though they were at first in a\n      most inexpressible consternation, yet as I have observed that the\n      distemper intermitted often at first, so they were, as it were,\n      alarmed and unalarmed again, and this several times, till it\n      began to be familiar to them; and that even when it appeared\n      violent, yet seeing it did not presently spread into the city, or\n      the east and south parts, the people began to take courage, and\n      to be, as I may say, a little hardened. It is true a vast many\n      people fled, as I have observed, yet they were chiefly from the\n      west end of the town, and from that we call the heart of the\n      city: that is to say, among the wealthiest of the people, and\n      such people as were unencumbered with trades and business. But of\n      the rest, the generality stayed, and seemed to abide the worst;\n      so that in the place we call the Liberties, and in the suburbs,\n      in Southwark, and in the east part, such as Wapping, Ratcliff,\n      Stepney, Rotherhithe, and the like, the people generally stayed,\n      except here and there a few wealthy families, who, as above, did\n      not depend upon their business.\n      It must not be forgot here that the city and suburbs were\n      prodigiously full of people at the time of this visitation, I\n      mean at the time that it began; for though I have lived to see a\n      further increase, and mighty throngs of people settling in London\n      more than ever, yet we had always a notion that the numbers of\n      people which, the wars being over, the armies disbanded, and the\n      royal family and the monarchy being restored, had flocked to\n      London to settle in business, or to depend upon and attend the\n      Court for rewards of services, preferments, and the like, was\n      such that the town was computed to have in it above a hundred\n      thousand people more than ever it held before; nay, some took\n      upon them to say it had twice as many, because all the ruined\n      families of the royal party flocked hither. All the old soldiers\n      set up trades here, and abundance of families settled here.\n      Again, the Court brought with them a great flux of pride, and new\n      fashions. All people were grown gay and luxurious, and the joy of\n      the Restoration had brought a vast many families to London.\n      I often thought that as Jerusalem was besieged by the Romans when\n      the Jews were assembled together to celebrate the Passover\u2014by\n      which means an incredible number of people were surprised there\n      who would otherwise have been in other countries\u2014so the plague\n      entered London when an incredible increase of people had happened\n      occasionally, by the particular circumstances above-named. As\n      this conflux of the people to a youthful and gay Court made a\n      great trade in the city, especially in everything that belonged\n      to fashion and finery, so it drew by consequence a great number\n      of workmen, manufacturers, and the like, being mostly poor people\n      who depended upon their labour. And I remember in particular that\n      in a representation to my Lord Mayor of the condition of the\n      poor, it was estimated that there were no less than an hundred\n      thousand riband-weavers in and about the city, the chiefest\n      number of whom lived then in the parishes of Shoreditch, Stepney,\n      Whitechappel, and Bishopsgate, that, namely, about Spitalfields;\n      that is to say, as Spitalfields was then, for it was not so large\n      as now by one fifth part.\n      By this, however, the number of people in the whole may be judged\n      of; and, indeed, I often wondered that, after the prodigious\n      numbers of people that went away at first, there was yet so great\n      a multitude left as it appeared there was.\n      But I must go back again to the beginning of this surprising\n      time. While the fears of the people were young, they were\n      increased strangely by several odd accidents which, put\n      altogether, it was really a wonder the whole body of the people\n      did not rise as one man and abandon their dwellings, leaving the\n      place as a space of ground designed by Heaven for an Akeldama,\n      doomed to be destroyed from the face of the earth, and that all\n      that would be found in it would perish with it. I shall name but\n      a few of these things; but sure they were so many, and so many\n      wizards and cunning people propagating them, that I have often\n      wondered there was any (women especially) left behind.\n      In the first place, a blazing star or comet appeared for several\n      months before the plague, as there did the year after another, a\n      little before the fire. The old women and the phlegmatic\n      hypochondriac part of the other sex, whom I could almost call old\n      women too, remarked (especially afterward, though not till both\n      those judgements were over) that those two comets passed directly\n      over the city, and that so very near the houses that it was plain\n      they imported something peculiar to the city alone; that the\n      comet before the pestilence was of a faint, dull, languid colour,\n      and its motion very heavy, Solemn, and slow; but that the comet\n      before the fire was bright and sparkling, or, as others said,\n      flaming, and its motion swift and furious; and that, accordingly,\n      one foretold a heavy judgement, slow but severe, terrible and\n      frightful, as was the plague; but the other foretold a stroke,\n      sudden, swift, and fiery as the conflagration. Nay, so particular\n      some people were, that as they looked upon that comet preceding\n      the fire, they fancied that they not only saw it pass swiftly and\n      fiercely, and could perceive the motion with their eye, but even\n      they heard it; that it made a rushing, mighty noise, fierce and\n      terrible, though at a distance, and but just perceivable.\n      I saw both these stars, and, I must confess, had so much of the\n      common notion of such things in my head, that I was apt to look\n      upon them as the forerunners and warnings of God\u2019s judgements;\n      and especially when, after the plague had followed the first, I\n      yet saw another of the like kind, I could not but say God had not\n      yet sufficiently scourged the city.\n      But I could not at the same time carry these things to the height\n      that others did, knowing, too, that natural causes are assigned\n      by the astronomers for such things, and that their motions and\n      even their revolutions are calculated, or pretended to be\n      calculated, so that they cannot be so perfectly called the\n      forerunners or foretellers, much less the procurers, of such\n      events as pestilence, war, fire, and the like.\n      But let my thoughts and the thoughts of the philosophers be, or\n      have been, what they will, these things had a more than ordinary\n      influence upon the minds of the common people, and they had\n      almost universal melancholy apprehensions of some dreadful\n      calamity and judgement coming upon the city; and this principally\n      from the sight of this comet, and the little alarm that was given\n      in December by two people dying at St Giles\u2019s, as above.\n      The apprehensions of the people were likewise strangely increased\n      by the error of the times; in which, I think, the people, from\n      what principle I cannot imagine, were more addicted to prophecies\n      and astrological conjurations, dreams, and old wives\u2019 tales than\n      ever they were before or since. Whether this unhappy temper was\n      originally raised by the follies of some people who got money by\n      it\u2014that is to say, by printing predictions and prognostications\u2014I\n      know not; but certain it is, books frighted them terribly, such\n      as Lilly\u2019s Almanack, Gadbury\u2019s Astrological Predictions, Poor\n      Robin\u2019s Almanack, and the like; also several pretended religious\n      books, one entitled, Come out of her, my People, lest you be\n      Partaker of her Plagues; another called, Fair Warning; another,\n      Britain\u2019s Remembrancer; and many such, all, or most part of\n      which, foretold, directly or covertly, the ruin of the city. Nay,\n      some were so enthusiastically bold as to run about the streets\n      with their oral predictions, pretending they were sent to preach\n      to the city; and one in particular, who, like Jonah to Nineveh,\n      cried in the streets, \u2018Yet forty days, and London shall be\n      destroyed.\u2019 I will not be positive whether he said yet forty days\n      or yet a few days. Another ran about naked, except a pair of\n      drawers about his waist, crying day and night, like a man that\n      Josephus mentions, who cried, \u2018Woe to Jerusalem!\u2019 a little before\n      the destruction of that city. So this poor naked creature cried,\n      \u2018Oh, the great and the dreadful God!\u2019 and said no more, but\n      repeated those words continually, with a voice and countenance\n      full of horror, a swift pace; and nobody could ever find him to\n      stop or rest, or take any sustenance, at least that ever I could\n      hear of. I met this poor creature several times in the streets,\n      and would have spoken to him, but he would not enter into speech\n      with me or any one else, but held on his dismal cries\n      continually.\n      These things terrified the people to the last degree, and\n      especially when two or three times, as I have mentioned already,\n      they found one or two in the bills dead of the plague at St\n      Giles\u2019s.\n      Next to these public things were the dreams of old women, or, I\n      should say, the interpretation of old women upon other people\u2019s\n      dreams; and these put abundance of people even out of their wits.\n      Some heard voices warning them to be gone, for that there would\n      be such a plague in London, so that the living would not be able\n      to bury the dead. Others saw apparitions in the air; and I must\n      be allowed to say of both, I hope without breach of charity, that\n      they heard voices that never spake, and saw sights that never\n      appeared; but the imagination of the people was really turned\n      wayward and possessed. And no wonder, if they who were poring\n      continually at the clouds saw shapes and figures, representations\n      and appearances, which had nothing in them but air, and vapour.\n      Here they told us they saw a flaming sword held in a hand coming\n      out of a cloud, with a point hanging directly over the city;\n      there they saw hearses and coffins in the air carrying to be\n      buried; and there again, heaps of dead bodies lying unburied, and\n      the like, just as the imagination of the poor terrified people\n      furnished them with matter to work upon.\n      So hypochondriac fancies represent\n      Ships, armies, battles in the firmament;\n      Till steady eyes the exhalations solve,\n      And all to its first matter, cloud, resolve.\n      I could fill this account with the strange relations such people\n      gave every day of what they had seen; and every one was so\n      positive of their having seen what they pretended to see, that\n      there was no contradicting them without breach of friendship, or\n      being accounted rude and unmannerly on the one hand, and profane\n      and impenetrable on the other. One time before the plague was\n      begun (otherwise than as I have said in St Giles\u2019s), I think it\n      was in March, seeing a crowd of people in the street, I joined\n      with them to satisfy my curiosity, and found them all staring up\n      into the air to see what a woman told them appeared plain to her,\n      which was an angel clothed in white, with a fiery sword in his\n      hand, waving it or brandishing it over his head. She described\n      every part of the figure to the life, showed them the motion and\n      the form, and the poor people came into it so eagerly, and with\n      so much readiness; \u2018Yes, I see it all plainly,\u2019 says one;\n      \u2018there\u2019s the sword as plain as can be.\u2019 Another saw the angel.\n      One saw his very face, and cried out what a glorious creature he\n      was! One saw one thing, and one another. I looked as earnestly as\n      the rest, but perhaps not with so much willingness to be imposed\n      upon; and I said, indeed, that I could see nothing but a white\n      cloud, bright on one side by the shining of the sun upon the\n      other part. The woman endeavoured to show it me, but could not\n      make me confess that I saw it, which, indeed, if I had I must\n      have lied. But the woman, turning upon me, looked in my face, and\n      fancied I laughed, in which her imagination deceived her too, for\n      I really did not laugh, but was very seriously reflecting how the\n      poor people were terrified by the force of their own imagination.\n      However, she turned from me, called me profane fellow, and a\n      scoffer; told me that it was a time of God\u2019s anger, and dreadful\n      judgements were approaching, and that despisers such as I should\n      wander and perish.\n      The people about her seemed disgusted as well as she; and I found\n      there was no persuading them that I did not laugh at them, and\n      that I should be rather mobbed by them than be able to undeceive\n      them. So I left them; and this appearance passed for as real as\n      the blazing star itself.\n      Another encounter I had in the open day also; and this was in\n      going through a narrow passage from Petty France into Bishopsgate\n      Churchyard, by a row of alms-houses. There are two churchyards to\n      Bishopsgate church or parish; one we go over to pass from the\n      place called Petty France into Bishopsgate Street, coming out\n      just by the church door; the other is on the side of the narrow\n      passage where the alms-houses are on the left; and a dwarf-wall\n      with a palisado on it on the right hand, and the city wall on the\n      other side more to the right.\n      In this narrow passage stands a man looking through between the\n      palisadoes into the burying-place, and as many people as the\n      narrowness of the passage would admit to stop, without hindering\n      the passage of others, and he was talking mightily eagerly to\n      them, and pointing now to one place, then to another, and\n      affirming that he saw a ghost walking upon such a gravestone\n      there. He described the shape, the posture, and the movement of\n      it so exactly that it was the greatest matter of amazement to him\n      in the world that everybody did not see it as well as he. On a\n      sudden he would cry, \u2018There it is; now it comes this way.\u2019 Then,\n      \u2019Tis turned back\u2019; till at length he persuaded the people into so\n      firm a belief of it, that one fancied he saw it, and another\n      fancied he saw it; and thus he came every day making a strange\n      hubbub, considering it was in so narrow a passage, till\n      Bishopsgate clock struck eleven, and then the ghost would seem to\n      start, and, as if he were called away, disappeared on a sudden.\n      I looked earnestly every way, and at the very moment that this\n      man directed, but could not see the least appearance of anything;\n      but so positive was this poor man, that he gave the people the\n      vapours in abundance, and sent them away trembling and frighted,\n      till at length few people that knew of it cared to go through\n      that passage, and hardly anybody by night on any account\n      whatever.\n      This ghost, as the poor man affirmed, made signs to the houses,\n      and to the ground, and to the people, plainly intimating, or else\n      they so understanding it, that abundance of the people should\n      come to be buried in that churchyard, as indeed happened; but\n      that he saw such aspects I must acknowledge I never believed, nor\n      could I see anything of it myself, though I looked most earnestly\n      to see it, if possible.\n      These things serve to show how far the people were really\n      overcome with delusions; and as they had a notion of the approach\n      of a visitation, all their predictions ran upon a most dreadful\n      plague, which should lay the whole city, and even the kingdom,\n      waste, and should destroy almost all the nation, both man and\n      beast.\n      To this, as I said before, the astrologers added stories of the\n      conjunctions of planets in a malignant manner and with a\n      mischievous influence, one of which conjunctions was to happen,\n      and did happen, in October, and the other in November; and they\n      filled the people\u2019s heads with predictions on these signs of the\n      heavens, intimating that those conjunctions foretold drought,\n      famine, and pestilence. In the two first of them, however, they\n      were entirely mistaken, for we had no droughty season, but in the\n      beginning of the year a hard frost, which lasted from December\n      almost to March, and after that moderate weather, rather warm\n      than hot, with refreshing winds, and, in short, very seasonable\n      weather, and also several very great rains.\n      Some endeavours were used to suppress the printing of such books\n      as terrified the people, and to frighten the dispersers of them,\n      some of whom were taken up; but nothing was done in it, as I am\n      informed, the Government being unwilling to exasperate the\n      people, who were, as I may say, all out of their wits already.\n      Neither can I acquit those ministers that in their sermons rather\n      sank than lifted up the hearts of their hearers. Many of them no\n      doubt did it for the strengthening the resolution of the people,\n      and especially for quickening them to repentance, but it\n      certainly answered not their end, at least not in proportion to\n      the injury it did another way; and indeed, as God Himself through\n      the whole Scriptures rather draws to Him by invitations and calls\n      to turn to Him and live, than drives us by terror and amazement,\n      so I must confess I thought the ministers should have done also,\n      imitating our blessed Lord and Master in this, that His whole\n      Gospel is full of declarations from heaven of God\u2019s mercy, and\n      His readiness to receive penitents and forgive them, complaining,\n      \u2018Ye will not come unto Me that ye may have life\u2019, and that\n      therefore His Gospel is called the Gospel of Peace and the Gospel\n      of Grace.\n      But we had some good men, and that of all persuasions and\n      opinions, whose discourses were full of terror, who spoke nothing\n      but dismal things; and as they brought the people together with a\n      kind of horror, sent them away in tears, prophesying nothing but\n      evil tidings, terrifying the people with the apprehensions of\n      being utterly destroyed, not guiding them, at least not enough,\n      to cry to heaven for mercy.\n      It was, indeed, a time of very unhappy breaches among us in\n      matters of religion. Innumerable sects and divisions and separate\n      opinions prevailed among the people. The Church of England was\n      restored, indeed, with the restoration of the monarchy, about\n      four years before; but the ministers and preachers of the\n      Presbyterians and Independents, and of all the other sorts of\n      professions, had begun to gather separate societies and erect\n      altar against altar, and all those had their meetings for worship\n      apart, as they have now, but not so many then, the Dissenters\n      being not thoroughly formed into a body as they are since; and\n      those congregations which were thus gathered together were yet\n      but few. And even those that were, the Government did not allow,\n      but endeavoured to suppress them and shut up their meetings.\n      But the visitation reconciled them again, at least for a time,\n      and many of the best and most valuable ministers and preachers of\n      the Dissenters were suffered to go into the churches where the\n      incumbents were fled away, as many were, not being able to stand\n      it; and the people flocked without distinction to hear them\n      preach, not much inquiring who or what opinion they were of. But\n      after the sickness was over, that spirit of charity abated; and\n      every church being again supplied with their own ministers, or\n      others presented where the minister was dead, things returned to\n      their old channel again.\n      One mischief always introduces another. These terrors and\n      apprehensions of the people led them into a thousand weak,\n      foolish, and wicked things, which they wanted not a sort of\n      people really wicked to encourage them to: and this was running\n      about to fortune-tellers, cunning-men, and astrologers to know\n      their fortune, or, as it is vulgarly expressed, to have their\n      fortunes told them, their nativities calculated, and the like;\n      and this folly presently made the town swarm with a wicked\n      generation of pretenders to magic, to the black art, as they\n      called it, and I know not what; nay, to a thousand worse dealings\n      with the devil than they were really guilty of. And this trade\n      grew so open and so generally practised that it became common to\n      have signs and inscriptions set up at doors: \u2018Here lives a\n      fortune-teller\u2019, \u2018Here lives an astrologer\u2019, \u2018Here you may have\n      your nativity calculated\u2019, and the like; and Friar Bacon\u2019s\n      brazen-head, which was the usual sign of these people\u2019s\n      dwellings, was to be seen almost in every street, or else the\n      sign of Mother Shipton, or of Merlin\u2019s head, and the like.\n      With what blind, absurd, and ridiculous stuff these oracles of\n      the devil pleased and satisfied the people I really know not, but\n      certain it is that innumerable attendants crowded about their\n      doors every day. And if but a grave fellow in a velvet jacket, a\n      band, and a black coat, which was the habit those quack-conjurers\n      generally went in, was but seen in the streets the people would\n      follow them in crowds, and ask them questions as they went along.\n      I need not mention what a horrid delusion this was, or what it\n      tended to; but there was no remedy for it till the plague itself\n      put an end to it all\u2014and, I suppose, cleared the town of most of\n      those calculators themselves. One mischief was, that if the poor\n      people asked these mock astrologers whether there would be a\n      plague or no, they all agreed in general to answer \u2018Yes\u2019, for\n      that kept up their trade. And had the people not been kept in a\n      fright about that, the wizards would presently have been rendered\n      useless, and their craft had been at an end. But they always\n      talked to them of such-and-such influences of the stars, of the\n      conjunctions of such-and-such planets, which must necessarily\n      bring sickness and distempers, and consequently the plague. And\n      some had the assurance to tell them the plague was begun already,\n      which was too true, though they that said so knew nothing of the\n      matter.\n      The ministers, to do them justice, and preachers of most sorts\n      that were serious and understanding persons, thundered against\n      these and other wicked practices, and exposed the folly as well\n      as the wickedness of them together, and the most sober and\n      judicious people despised and abhorred them. But it was\n      impossible to make any impression upon the middling people and\n      the working labouring poor. Their fears were predominant over all\n      their passions, and they threw away their money in a most\n      distracted manner upon those whimsies. Maid-servants especially,\n      and men-servants, were the chief of their customers, and their\n      question generally was, after the first demand of \u2018Will there be\n      a plague?\u2019 I say, the next question was, \u2018Oh, sir I for the\n      Lord\u2019s sake, what will become of me? Will my mistress keep me, or\n      will she turn me off? Will she stay here, or will she go into the\n      country? And if she goes into the country, will she take me with\n      her, or leave me here to be starved and undone?\u2019 And the like of\n      menservants.\n      The truth is, the case of poor servants was very dismal, as I\n      shall have occasion to mention again by-and-by, for it was\n      apparent a prodigious number of them would be turned away, and it\n      was so. And of them abundance perished, and particularly of those\n      that these false prophets had flattered with hopes that they\n      should be continued in their services, and carried with their\n      masters and mistresses into the country; and had not public\n      charity provided for these poor creatures, whose number was\n      exceeding great and in all cases of this nature must be so, they\n      would have been in the worst condition of any people in the city.\n      These things agitated the minds of the common people for many\n      months, while the first apprehensions were upon them, and while\n      the plague was not, as I may say, yet broken out. But I must also\n      not forget that the more serious part of the inhabitants behaved\n      after another manner. The Government encouraged their devotion,\n      and appointed public prayers and days of fasting and humiliation,\n      to make public confession of sin and implore the mercy of God to\n      avert the dreadful judgement which hung over their heads; and it\n      is not to be expressed with what alacrity the people of all\n      persuasions embraced the occasion; how they flocked to the\n      churches and meetings, and they were all so thronged that there\n      was often no coming near, no, not to the very doors of the\n      largest churches. Also there were daily prayers appointed morning\n      and evening at several churches, and days of private praying at\n      other places; at all which the people attended, I say, with an\n      uncommon devotion. Several private families also, as well of one\n      opinion as of another, kept family fasts, to which they admitted\n      their near relations only. So that, in a word, those people who\n      were really serious and religious applied themselves in a truly\n      Christian manner to the proper work of repentance and\n      humiliation, as a Christian people ought to do.\n      Again, the public showed that they would bear their share in\n      these things; the very Court, which was then gay and luxurious,\n      put on a face of just concern for the public danger. All the\n      plays and interludes which, after the manner of the French Court,\n      had been set up, and began to increase among us, were forbid to\n      act; the gaming-tables, public dancing-rooms, and music-houses,\n      which multiplied and began to debauch the manners of the people,\n      were shut up and suppressed; and the jack-puddings,\n      merry-andrews, puppet-shows, rope-dancers, and such-like doings,\n      which had bewitched the poor common people, shut up their shops,\n      finding indeed no trade; for the minds of the people were\n      agitated with other things, and a kind of sadness and horror at\n      these things sat upon the countenances even of the common people.\n      Death was before their eyes, and everybody began to think of\n      their graves, not of mirth and diversions.\n      But even those wholesome reflections\u2014which, rightly managed,\n      would have most happily led the people to fall upon their knees,\n      make confession of their sins, and look up to their merciful\n      Saviour for pardon, imploring His compassion on them in such a\n      time of their distress, by which we might have been as a second\n      Nineveh\u2014had a quite contrary extreme in the common people, who,\n      ignorant and stupid in their reflections as they were brutishly\n      wicked and thoughtless before, were now led by their fright to\n      extremes of folly; and, as I have said before, that they ran to\n      conjurers and witches, and all sorts of deceivers, to know what\n      should become of them (who fed their fears, and kept them always\n      alarmed and awake on purpose to delude them and pick their\n      pockets), so they were as mad upon their running after quacks and\n      mountebanks, and every practising old woman, for medicines and\n      remedies; storing themselves with such multitudes of pills,\n      potions, and preservatives, as they were called, that they not\n      only spent their money but even poisoned themselves beforehand\n      for fear of the poison of the infection; and prepared their\n      bodies for the plague, instead of preserving them against it. On\n      the other hand it is incredible and scarce to be imagined, how\n      the posts of houses and corners of streets were plastered over\n      with doctors\u2019 bills and papers of ignorant fellows, quacking and\n      tampering in physic, and inviting the people to come to them for\n      remedies, which was generally set off with such flourishes as\n      these, viz.: \u2018Infallible preventive pills against the plague.\u2019\n      \u2018Neverfailing preservatives against the infection.\u2019 \u2018Sovereign\n      cordials against the corruption of the air.\u2019 \u2018Exact regulations\n      for the conduct of the body in case of an infection.\u2019\n      \u2018Anti-pestilential pills.\u2019 \u2018Incomparable drink against the\n      plague, never found out before.\u2019 \u2018An universal remedy for the\n      plague.\u2019 \u2018The only true plague water.\u2019 \u2018The royal antidote\n      against all kinds of infection\u2019;\u2014and such a number more that I\n      cannot reckon up; and if I could, would fill a book of themselves\n      to set them down.\n      Others set up bills to summon people to their lodgings for\n      directions and advice in the case of infection. These had\n      specious titles also, such as these:\u2014\n      \u2018An eminent High Dutch physician, newly come over from Holland,\n      where he resided during all the time of the great plague last\n      year in Amsterdam, and cured multitudes of people that actually\n      had the plague upon them.\u2019\n      \u2018An Italian gentlewoman just arrived from Naples, having a choice\n      secret to prevent infection, which she found out by her great\n      experience, and did wonderful cures with it in the late plague\n      there, wherein there died 20,000 in one day.\u2019\n      \u2018An ancient gentlewoman, having practised with great success in\n      the late plague in this city, anno 1636, gives her advice only to\n      the female sex. To be spoken with,\u2019 &c.\n      \u2018An experienced physician, who has long studied the doctrine of\n      antidotes against all sorts of poison and infection, has, after\n      forty years\u2019 practice, arrived to such skill as may, with God\u2019s\n      blessing, direct persons how to prevent their being touched by\n      any contagious distemper whatsoever. He directs the poor gratis.\u2019\n      I take notice of these by way of specimen. I could give you two\n      or three dozen of the like and yet have abundance left behind.\n      \u2019Tis sufficient from these to apprise any one of the humour of\n      those times, and how a set of thieves and pickpockets not only\n      robbed and cheated the poor people of their money, but poisoned\n      their bodies with odious and fatal preparations; some with\n      mercury, and some with other things as bad, perfectly remote from\n      the thing pretended to, and rather hurtful than serviceable to\n      the body in case an infection followed.\n      I cannot omit a subtility of one of those quack operators, with\n      which he gulled the poor people to crowd about him, but did\n      nothing for them without money. He had, it seems, added to his\n      bills, which he gave about the streets, this advertisement in\n      capital letters, viz., \u2018He gives advice to the poor for nothing.\u2019\n      Abundance of poor people came to him accordingly, to whom he made\n      a great many fine speeches, examined them of the state of their\n      health and of the constitution of their bodies, and told them\n      many good things for them to do, which were of no great moment.\n      But the issue and conclusion of all was, that he had a\n      preparation which if they took such a quantity of every morning,\n      he would pawn his life they should never have the plague; no,\n      though they lived in the house with people that were infected.\n      This made the people all resolve to have it; but then the price\n      of that was so much, I think \u2019twas half-a-crown. \u2018But, sir,\u2019 says\n      one poor woman, \u2018I am a poor almswoman and am kept by the parish,\n      and your bills say you give the poor your help for nothing.\u2019 \u2018Ay,\n      good woman,\u2019 says the doctor, \u2018so I do, as I published there. I\n      give my advice to the poor for nothing, but not my physic.\u2019\n      \u2018Alas, sir!\u2019 says she, \u2018that is a snare laid for the poor, then;\n      for you give them advice for nothing; that is to say, you advise\n      them gratis, to buy your physic for their money; so does every\n      shop-keeper with his wares.\u2019 Here the woman began to give him ill\n      words, and stood at his door all that day, telling her tale to\n      all the people that came, till the doctor finding she turned away\n      his customers, was obliged to call her upstairs again, and give\n      her his box of physic for nothing, which perhaps, too, was good\n      for nothing when she had it.\n      But to return to the people, whose confusions fitted them to be\n      imposed upon by all sorts of pretenders and by every mountebank.\n      There is no doubt but these quacking sort of fellows raised great\n      gains out of the miserable people, for we daily found the crowds\n      that ran after them were infinitely greater, and their doors were\n      more thronged than those of Dr Brooks, Dr Upton, Dr Hodges, Dr\n      Berwick, or any, though the most famous men of the time. And I\n      was told that some of them got five pounds a day by their physic.\n      But there was still another madness beyond all this, which may\n      serve to give an idea of the distracted humour of the poor people\n      at that time: and this was their following a worse sort of\n      deceivers than any of these; for these petty thieves only deluded\n      them to pick their pockets and get their money, in which their\n      wickedness, whatever it was, lay chiefly on the side of the\n      deceivers, not upon the deceived. But in this part I am going to\n      mention, it lay chiefly in the people deceived, or equally in\n      both; and this was in wearing charms, philtres, exorcisms,\n      amulets, and I know not what preparations, to fortify the body\n      with them against the plague; as if the plague was not the hand\n      of God, but a kind of possession of an evil spirit, and that it\n      was to be kept off with crossings, signs of the zodiac, papers\n      tied up with so many knots, and certain words or figures written\n      on them, as particularly the word Abracadabra, formed in triangle\n      or pyramid, thus:\u2014\n     ABRACADABRA\n     ABRACADABR     Others had the Jesuits\u2019\n     ABRACADAB         mark in a cross:\n     ABRACA\n     ABRAC          Others nothing but this\n      I might spend a great deal of time in my exclamations against the\n      follies, and indeed the wickedness, of those things, in a time of\n      such danger, in a matter of such consequences as this, of a\n      national infection. But my memorandums of these things relate\n      rather to take notice only of the fact, and mention only that it\n      was so. How the poor people found the insufficiency of those\n      things, and how many of them were afterwards carried away in the\n      dead-carts and thrown into the common graves of every parish with\n      these hellish charms and trumpery hanging about their necks,\n      remains to be spoken of as we go along.\n      All this was the effect of the hurry the people were in, after\n      the first notion of the plague being at hand was among them, and\n      which may be said to be from about Michaelmas 1664, but more\n      particularly after the two men died in St Giles\u2019s in the\n      beginning of December; and again, after another alarm in\n      February. For when the plague evidently spread itself, they soon\n      began to see the folly of trusting to those unperforming\n      creatures who had gulled them of their money; and then their\n      fears worked another way, namely, to amazement and stupidity, not\n      knowing what course to take or what to do either to help or\n      relieve themselves. But they ran about from one neighbour\u2019s house\n      to another, and even in the streets from one door to another,\n      with repeated cries of, \u2018Lord, have mercy upon us! What shall we\n      Indeed, the poor people were to be pitied in one particular thing\n      in which they had little or no relief, and which I desire to\n      mention with a serious awe and reflection, which perhaps every\n      one that reads this may not relish; namely, that whereas death\n      now began not, as we may say, to hover over every one\u2019s head\n      only, but to look into their houses and chambers and stare in\n      their faces. Though there might be some stupidity and dulness of\n      the mind (and there was so, a great deal), yet there was a great\n      deal of just alarm sounded into the very inmost soul, if I may so\n      say, of others. Many consciences were awakened; many hard hearts\n      melted into tears; many a penitent confession was made of crimes\n      long concealed. It would wound the soul of any Christian to have\n      heard the dying groans of many a despairing creature, and none\n      durst come near to comfort them. Many a robbery, many a murder,\n      was then confessed aloud, and nobody surviving to record the\n      accounts of it. People might be heard, even into the streets as\n      we passed along, calling upon God for mercy through Jesus Christ,\n      and saying, \u2018I have been a thief, \u2018I have been an adulterer\u2019, \u2018I\n      have been a murderer\u2019, and the like, and none durst stop to make\n      the least inquiry into such things or to administer comfort to\n      the poor creatures that in the anguish both of soul and body thus\n      cried out. Some of the ministers did visit the sick at first and\n      for a little while, but it was not to be done. It would have been\n      present death to have gone into some houses. The very buriers of\n      the dead, who were the hardenedest creatures in town, were\n      sometimes beaten back and so terrified that they durst not go\n      into houses where the whole families were swept away together,\n      and where the circumstances were more particularly horrible, as\n      some were; but this was, indeed, at the first heat of the\n      distemper.\n      Time inured them to it all, and they ventured everywhere\n      afterwards without hesitation, as I shall have occasion to\n      mention at large hereafter.\n      I am supposing now the plague to be begun, as I have said, and\n      that the magistrates began to take the condition of the people\n      into their serious consideration. What they did as to the\n      regulation of the inhabitants and of infected families, I shall\n      speak to by itself; but as to the affair of health, it is proper\n      to mention it here that, having seen the foolish humour of the\n      people in running after quacks and mountebanks, wizards and\n      fortune-tellers, which they did as above, even to madness, the\n      Lord Mayor, a very sober and religious gentleman, appointed\n      physicians and surgeons for relief of the poor\u2014I mean the\n      diseased poor and in particular ordered the College of Physicians\n      to publish directions for cheap remedies for the poor, in all the\n      circumstances of the distemper. This, indeed, was one of the most\n      charitable and judicious things that could be done at that time,\n      for this drove the people from haunting the doors of every\n      disperser of bills, and from taking down blindly and without\n      consideration poison for physic and death instead of life.\n      This direction of the physicians was done by a consultation of\n      the whole College; and, as it was particularly calculated for the\n      use of the poor and for cheap medicines, it was made public, so\n      that everybody might see it, and copies were given gratis to all\n      that desired it. But as it is public, and to be seen on all\n      occasions, I need not give the reader of this the trouble of it.\n      I shall not be supposed to lessen the authority or capacity of\n      the physicians when I say that the violence of the distemper,\n      when it came to its extremity, was like the fire the next year.\n      The fire, which consumed what the plague could not touch, defied\n      all the application of remedies; the fire-engines were broken,\n      the buckets thrown away, and the power of man was baffled and\n      brought to an end. So the Plague defied all medicines; the very\n      physicians were seized with it, with their preservatives in their\n      mouths; and men went about prescribing to others and telling them\n      what to do till the tokens were upon them, and they dropped down\n      dead, destroyed by that very enemy they directed others to\n      oppose. This was the case of several physicians, even some of\n      them the most eminent, and of several of the most skilful\n      surgeons. Abundance of quacks too died, who had the folly to\n      trust to their own medicines, which they must needs be conscious\n      to themselves were good for nothing, and who rather ought, like\n      other sorts of thieves, to have run away, sensible of their\n      guilt, from the justice that they could not but expect should\n      punish them as they knew they had deserved.\n      Not that it is any derogation from the labour or application of\n      the physicians to say they fell in the common calamity; nor is it\n      so intended by me; it rather is to their praise that they\n      ventured their lives so far as even to lose them in the service\n      of mankind. They endeavoured to do good, and to save the lives of\n      others. But we were not to expect that the physicians could stop\n      God\u2019s judgements, or prevent a distemper eminently armed from\n      heaven from executing the errand it was sent about.\n      Doubtless, the physicians assisted many by their skill, and by\n      their prudence and applications, to the saving of their lives and\n      restoring their health. But it is not lessening their character\n      or their skill, to say they could not cure those that had the\n      tokens upon them, or those who were mortally infected before the\n      physicians were sent for, as was frequently the case.\n      It remains to mention now what public measures were taken by the\n      magistrates for the general safety, and to prevent the spreading\n      of the distemper, when it first broke out. I shall have frequent\n      occasion to speak of the prudence of the magistrates, their\n      charity, their vigilance for the poor, and for preserving good\n      order, furnishing provisions, and the like, when the plague was\n      increased, as it afterwards was. But I am now upon the order and\n      regulations they published for the government of infected\n      families.\n      I mentioned above shutting of houses up; and it is needful to say\n      something particularly to that, for this part of the history of\n      the plague is very melancholy, but the most grievous story must\n      be told.\n      About June the Lord Mayor of London and the Court of Aldermen, as\n      I have said, began more particularly to concern themselves for\n      the regulation of the city.\n      The justices of Peace for Middlesex, by direction of the\n      Secretary of State, had begun to shut up houses in the parishes\n      of St Giles-in-the-Fields, St Martin, St Clement Danes, &c., and\n      it was with good success; for in several streets where the plague\n      broke out, upon strict guarding the houses that were infected,\n      and taking care to bury those that died immediately after they\n      were known to be dead, the plague ceased in those streets. It was\n      also observed that the plague decreased sooner in those parishes\n      after they had been visited to the full than it did in the\n      parishes of Bishopsgate, Shoreditch, Aldgate, Whitechappel,\n      Stepney, and others; the early care taken in that manner being a\n      great means to the putting a check to it.\n      This shutting up of houses was a method first taken, as I\n      understand, in the plague which happened in 1603, at the coming\n      of King James the First to the crown; and the power of shutting\n      people up in their own houses was granted by Act of Parliament,\n      entitled, \u2018An Act for the charitable Relief and Ordering of\n      Persons infected with the Plague\u2019; on which Act of Parliament the\n      Lord Mayor and aldermen of the city of London founded the order\n      they made at this time, and which took place the 1st of July\n      1665, when the numbers infected within the city were but few, the\n      last bill for the ninety-two parishes being but four; and some\n      houses having been shut up in the city, and some people being\n      removed to the pest-house beyond Bunhill Fields, in the way to\n      Islington,\u2014I say, by these means, when there died near one\n      thousand a week in the whole, the number in the city was but\n      twenty-eight, and the city was preserved more healthy in\n      proportion than any other place all the time of the infection.\n      These orders of my Lord Mayor\u2019s were published, as I have said,\n      the latter end of June, and took place from the 1st of July, and\n      were as follows, viz.:\u2014\n      ORDERS CONCEIVED AND PUBLISHED BY THE LORD MAYOR AND ALDERMEN OF\n      THE CITY OF LONDON CONCERNING THE INFECTION OF THE PLAGUE, 1665.\n      \u2018WHEREAS in the reign of our late Sovereign King James, of happy\n      memory, an Act was made for the charitable relief and ordering of\n      persons infected with the plague, whereby authority was given to\n      justices of the peace, mayors, bailiffs, and other head-officers\n      to appoint within their several limits examiners, searchers,\n      watchmen, keepers, and buriers for the persons and places\n      infected, and to minister unto them oaths for the performance of\n      their offices. And the same statute did also authorise the giving\n      of other directions, as unto them for the present necessity\n      should seem good in their directions. It is now, upon special\n      consideration, thought very expedient for preventing and avoiding\n      of infection of sickness (if it shall so please Almighty God)\n      that these officers following be appointed, and these orders\n      hereafter duly observed.\n      Examiners to be appointed in every Parish.\n      \u2018First, it is thought requisite, and so ordered, that in every\n      parish there be one, two, or more persons of good sort and credit\n      chosen and appointed by the alderman, his deputy, and common\n      council of every ward, by the name of examiners, to continue in\n      that office the space of two months at least. And if any fit\n      person so appointed shall refuse to undertake the same, the said\n      parties so refusing to be committed to prison until they shall\n      conform themselves accordingly.\n      The Examiner\u2019s Office.\n      \u2018That these examiners be sworn by the aldermen to inquire and\n      learn from time to time what houses in every parish be visited,\n      and what persons be sick, and of what diseases, as near as they\n      can inform themselves; and upon doubt in that case, to command\n      restraint of access until it appear what the disease shall prove.\n      And if they find any person sick of the infection, to give order\n      to the constable that the house be shut up; and if the constable\n      shall be found remiss or negligent, to give present notice\n      thereof to the alderman of the ward.\n      Watchmen.\n      \u2018That to every infected house there be appointed two watchmen,\n      one for every day, and the other for the night; and that these\n      watchmen have a special care that no person go in or out of such\n      infected houses whereof they have the charge, upon pain of severe\n      punishment. And the said watchmen to do such further offices as\n      the sick house shall need and require: and if the watchman be\n      sent upon any business, to lock up the house and take the key\n      with him; and the watchman by day to attend until ten of the\n      clock at night, and the watchman by night until six in the\n      morning.\n      Searchers.\n      \u2018That there be a special care to appoint women searchers in every\n      parish, such as are of honest reputation, and of the best sort as\n      can be got in this kind; and these to be sworn to make due search\n      and true report to the utmost of their knowledge whether the\n      persons whose bodies they are appointed to search do die of the\n      infection, or of what other diseases, as near as they can. And\n      that the physicians who shall be appointed for cure and\n      prevention of the infection do call before them the said\n      searchers who are, or shall be, appointed for the several\n      parishes under their respective cares, to the end they may\n      consider whether they are fitly qualified for that employment,\n      and charge them from time to time as they shall see cause, if\n      they appear defective in their duties.\n      \u2018That no searcher during this time of visitation be permitted to\n      use any public work or employment, or keep any shop or stall, or\n      be employed as a laundress, or in any other common employment\n      whatsoever.\n      Chirurgeons.\n      \u2018For better assistance of the searchers, forasmuch as there hath\n      been heretofore great abuse in misreporting the disease, to the\n      further spreading of the infection, it is therefore ordered that\n      there be chosen and appointed able and discreet chirurgeons,\n      besides those that do already belong to the pest-house, amongst\n      whom the city and Liberties to be quartered as the places lie\n      most apt and convenient; and every of these to have one quarter\n      for his limit; and the said chirurgeons in every of their limits\n      to join with the searchers for the view of the body, to the end\n      there may be a true report made of the disease.\n      \u2018And further, that the said chirurgeons shall visit and search\n      such-like persons as shall either send for them or be named and\n      directed unto them by the examiners of every parish, and inform\n      themselves of the disease of the said parties.\n      \u2018And forasmuch as the said chirurgeons are to be sequestered from\n      all other cures, and kept only to this disease of the infection,\n      it is ordered that every of the said chirurgeons shall have\n      twelve-pence a body searched by them, to be paid out of the goods\n      of the party searched, if he be able, or otherwise by the parish.\n      Nurse-keepers.\n      \u2018If any nurse-keeper shall remove herself out of any infected\n      house before twenty-eight days after the decease of any person\n      dying of the infection, the house to which the said nurse-keeper\n      doth so remove herself shall be shut up until the said\n      twenty-eight days be expired.\u2019\n      ORDERS CONCERNING INFECTED HOUSES AND PERSONS SICK OF THE PLAGUE.\n      Notice to be given of the Sickness.\n      \u2018The master of every house, as soon as any one in his house\n      complaineth, either of blotch or purple, or swelling in any part\n      of his body, or falleth otherwise dangerously sick, without\n      apparent cause of some other disease, shall give knowledge\n      thereof to the examiner of health within two hours after the said\n      sign shall appear.\n      Sequestration of the Sick.\n      \u2018As soon as any man shall be found by this examiner, chirurgeon,\n      or searcher to be sick of the plague, he shall the same night be\n      sequestered in the same house; and in case he be so sequestered,\n      then though he afterwards die not, the house wherein he sickened\n      should be shut up for a month, after the use of the due\n      preservatives taken by the rest.\n      Airing the Stuff.\n      \u2018For sequestration of the goods and stuff of the infection, their\n      bedding and apparel and hangings of chambers must be well aired\n      with fire and such perfumes as are requisite within the infected\n      house before they be taken again to use. This to be done by the\n      appointment of an examiner.\n      Shutting up of the House.\n      \u2018If any person shall have visited any man known to be infected of\n      the plague, or entered willingly into any known infected house,\n      being not allowed, the house wherein he inhabiteth shall be shut\n      up for certain days by the examiner\u2019s direction.\n      None to be removed out of infected Houses, but, &C.\n      \u2018Item, that none be removed out of the house where he falleth\n      sick of the infection into any other house in the city (except it\n      be to the pest-house or a tent, or unto some such house which the\n      owner of the said visited house holdeth in his own hands and\n      occupieth by his own servants); and so as security be given to\n      the parish whither such remove is made, that the attendance and\n      charge about the said visited persons shall be observed and\n      charged in all the particularities before expressed, without any\n      cost of that parish to which any such remove shall happen to be\n      made, and this remove to be done by night. And it shall be lawful\n      to any person that hath two houses to remove either his sound or\n      his infected people to his spare house at his choice, so as, if\n      he send away first his sound, he not after send thither his sick,\n      nor again unto the sick the sound; and that the same which he\n      sendeth be for one week at the least shut up and secluded from\n      company, for fear of some infection at the first not appearing.\n      Burial of the Dead.\n      \u2018That the burial of the dead by this visitation be at most\n      convenient hours, always either before sun-rising or after\n      sun-setting, with the privity of the churchwardens or constable,\n      and not otherwise; and that no neighbours nor friends be suffered\n      to accompany the corpse to church, or to enter the house visited,\n      upon pain of having his house shut up or be imprisoned.\n      \u2018And that no corpse dying of infection shall be buried, or remain\n      in any church in time of common prayer, sermon, or lecture. And\n      that no children be suffered at time of burial of any corpse in\n      any church, churchyard, or burying-place to come near the corpse,\n      coffin, or grave. And that all the graves shall be at least six\n      feet deep.\n      \u2018And further, all public assemblies at other burials are to be\n      foreborne during the continuance of this visitation.\n      No infected Stuff to be uttered.\n      \u2018That no clothes, stuff, bedding, or garments be suffered to be\n      carried or conveyed out of any infected houses, and that the\n      criers and carriers abroad of bedding or old apparel to be sold\n      or pawned be utterly prohibited and restrained, and no brokers of\n      bedding or old apparel be permitted to make any outward show, or\n      hang forth on their stalls, shop-boards, or windows, towards any\n      street, lane, common way, or passage, any old bedding or apparel\n      to be sold, upon pain of imprisonment. And if any broker or other\n      person shall buy any bedding, apparel, or other stuff out of any\n      infected house within two months after the infection hath been\n      there, his house shall be shut up as infected, and so shall\n      continue shut up twenty days at the least.\n      No Person to be conveyed out of any infected House.\n      \u2018If any person visited do fortune, by negligent looking unto, or\n      by any other means, to come or be conveyed from a place infected\n      to any other place, the parish from whence such party hath come\n      or been conveyed, upon notice thereof given, shall at their\n      charge cause the said party so visited and escaped to be carried\n      and brought back again by night, and the parties in this case\n      offending to be punished at the direction of the alderman of the\n      ward, and the house of the receiver of such visited person to be\n      shut up for twenty days.\n      Every visited House to be marked.\n      \u2018That every house visited be marked with a red cross of a foot\n      long in the middle of the door, evident to be seen, and with\n      these usual printed words, that is to say, \u201cLord, have mercy upon\n      us,\u201d to be set close over the same cross, there to continue until\n      lawful opening of the same house.\n      Every visited House to be watched.\n      \u2018That the constables see every house shut up, and to be attended\n      with watchmen, which may keep them in, and minister necessaries\n      unto them at their own charges, if they be able, or at the common\n      charge, if they are unable; the shutting up to be for the space\n      of four weeks after all be whole.\n      \u2018That precise order to be taken that the searchers, chirurgeons,\n      keepers, and buriers are not to pass the streets without holding\n      a red rod or wand of three feet in length in their hands, open\n      and evident to be seen, and are not to go into any other house\n      than into their own, or into that whereunto they are directed or\n      sent for; but to forbear and abstain from company, especially\n      when they have been lately used in any such business or\n      attendance.\n      Inmates.\n      \u2018That where several inmates are in one and the same house, and\n      any person in that house happens to be infected, no other person\n      or family of such house shall be suffered to remove him or\n      themselves without a certificate from the examiners of health of\n      that parish; or in default thereof, the house whither he or they\n      so remove shall be shut up as in case of visitation.\n      Hackney-Coaches.\n      \u2018That care be taken of hackney-coachmen, that they may not (as\n      some of them have been observed to do after carrying of infected\n      persons to the pest-house and other places) be admitted to common\n      use till their coaches be well aired, and have stood unemployed\n      by the space of five or six days after such service.\u2019\n      ORDERS FOR CLEANSING AND KEEPING OF THE STREETS SWEPT.\n      The Streets to be kept Clean.\n      \u2018First, it is thought necessary, and so ordered, that every\n      householder do cause the street to be daily prepared before his\n      door, and so to keep it clean swept all the week long.\n      That Rakers take it from out the Houses.\n      \u2018That the sweeping and filth of houses be daily carried away by\n      the rakers, and that the raker shall give notice of his coming by\n      the blowing of a horn, as hitherto hath been done.\n      Laystalls to be made far off from the City.\n      \u2018That the laystalls be removed as far as may be out of the city\n      and common passages, and that no nightman or other be suffered to\n      empty a vault into any garden near about the city.\n      Care to be had of unwholesome Fish or Flesh, and of musty Corn.\n      \u2018That special care be taken that no stinking fish, or unwholesome\n      flesh, or musty corn, or other corrupt fruits of what sort\n      soever, be suffered to be sold about the city, or any part of the\n      \u2018That the brewers and tippling-houses be looked into for musty\n      and unwholesome casks.\n      \u2018That no hogs, dogs, or cats, or tame pigeons, or ponies, be\n      suffered to be kept within any part of the city, or any swine to\n      be or stray in the streets or lanes, but that such swine be\n      impounded by the beadle or any other officer, and the owner\n      punished according to Act of Common Council, and that the dogs be\n      killed by the dog-killers appointed for that purpose.\u2019\n      ORDERS CONCERNING LOOSE PERSONS AND IDLE ASSEMBLIES.\n      Beggars.\n      \u2018Forasmuch as nothing is more complained of than the multitude of\n      rogues and wandering beggars that swarm in every place about the\n      city, being a great cause of the spreading of the infection, and\n      will not be avoided, notwithstanding any orders that have been\n      given to the contrary: It is therefore now ordered, that such\n      constables, and others whom this matter may any way concern, take\n      special care that no wandering beggars be suffered in the streets\n      of this city in any fashion or manner whatsoever, upon the\n      penalty provided by the law, to be duly and severely executed\n      upon them.\n      Plays.\n      \u2018That all plays, bear-baitings, games, singing of ballads,\n      buckler-play, or such-like causes of assemblies of people be\n      utterly prohibited, and the parties offending severely punished\n      by every alderman in his ward.\n      Feasting prohibited.\n      \u2018That all public feasting, and particularly by the companies of\n      this city, and dinners at taverns, ale-houses, and other places\n      of common entertainment, be forborne till further order and\n      allowance; and that the money thereby spared be preserved and\n      employed for the benefit and relief of the poor visited with the\n      infection.\n      Tippling-houses.\n      \u2018That disorderly tippling in taverns, ale-houses, coffee-houses,\n      and cellars be severely looked unto, as the common sin of this\n      time and greatest occasion of dispersing the plague. And that no\n      company or person be suffered to remain or come into any tavern,\n      ale-house, or coffee-house to drink after nine of the clock in\n      the evening, according to the ancient law and custom of this\n      city, upon the penalties ordained in that behalf.\n      \u2018And for the better execution of these orders, and such other\n      rules and directions as, upon further consideration, shall be\n      found needful: It is ordered and enjoined that the aldermen,\n      deputies, and common councilmen shall meet together weekly, once,\n      twice, thrice or oftener (as cause shall require), at some one\n      general place accustomed in their respective wards (being clear\n      from infection of the plague), to consult how the said orders may\n      be duly put in execution; not intending that any dwelling in or\n      near places infected shall come to the said meeting while their\n      coming may be doubtful. And the said aldermen, and deputies, and\n      common councilmen in their several wards may put in execution any\n      other good orders that by them at their said meetings shall be\n      conceived and devised for preservation of his Majesty\u2019s subjects\n      from the infection.\n      \u2018SIR JOHN LAWRENCE, Lord Mayor.\n      SIR GEORGE WATERMAN\n      SIR CHARLES\n      DOE, Sheriffs.\u2019\n      I need not say that these orders extended only to such places as\n      were within the Lord Mayor\u2019s jurisdiction, so it is requisite to\n      observe that the justices of Peace within those parishes and\n      places as were called the Hamlets and out-parts took the same\n      method. As I remember, the orders for shutting up of houses did\n      not take Place so soon on our side, because, as I said before,\n      the plague did not reach to these eastern parts of the town at\n      least, nor begin to be very violent, till the beginning of\n      August. For example, the whole bill from the 11th to the 18th of\n      July was 1761, yet there died but 71 of the plague in all those\n      parishes we call the Tower Hamlets, and they were as follows:\u2014\n      It was indeed coming on amain, for the burials that same week\n      were in the next adjoining parishes thus:\u2014\n      This shutting up of houses was at first counted a very cruel and\n      unchristian method, and the poor people so confined made bitter\n      lamentations. Complaints of the severity of it were also daily\n      brought to my Lord Mayor, of houses causelessly (and some\n      maliciously) shut up. I cannot say; but upon inquiry many that\n      complained so loudly were found in a condition to be continued;\n      and others again, inspection being made upon the sick person, and\n      the sickness not appearing infectious, or if uncertain, yet on\n      his being content to be carried to the pest-house, were released.\n      It is true that the locking up the doors of people\u2019s houses, and\n      setting a watchman there night and day to prevent their stirring\n      out or any coming to them, when perhaps the sound people in the\n      family might have escaped if they had been removed from the sick,\n      looked very hard and cruel; and many people perished in these\n      miserable confinements which, \u2019tis reasonable to believe, would\n      not have been distempered if they had had liberty, though the\n      plague was in the house; at which the people were very clamorous\n      and uneasy at first, and several violences were committed and\n      injuries offered to the men who were set to watch the houses so\n      shut up; also several people broke out by force in many places,\n      as I shall observe by-and-by. But it was a public good that\n      justified the private mischief, and there was no obtaining the\n      least mitigation by any application to magistrates or government\n      at that time, at least not that I heard of. This put the people\n      upon all manner of stratagem in order, if possible, to get out;\n      and it would fill a little volume to set down the arts used by\n      the people of such houses to shut the eyes of the watchmen who\n      were employed, to deceive them, and to escape or break out from\n      them, in which frequent scuffles and some mischief happened; of\n      which by itself.\n      As I went along Houndsditch one morning about eight o\u2019clock there\n      was a great noise. It is true, indeed, there was not much crowd,\n      because people were not very free to gather together, or to stay\n      long together when they were there; nor did I stay long there.\n      But the outcry was loud enough to prompt my curiosity, and I\n      called to one that looked out of a window, and asked what was the\n      matter.\n      A watchman, it seems, had been employed to keep his post at the\n      door of a house which was infected, or said to be infected, and\n      was shut up. He had been there all night for two nights together,\n      as he told his story, and the day-watchman had been there one\n      day, and was now come to relieve him. All this while no noise had\n      been heard in the house, no light had been seen; they called for\n      nothing, sent him of no errands, which used to be the chief\n      business of the watchmen; neither had they given him any\n      disturbance, as he said, from the Monday afternoon, when he heard\n      great crying and screaming in the house, which, as he supposed,\n      was occasioned by some of the family dying just at that time. It\n      seems, the night before, the dead-cart, as it was called, had\n      been stopped there, and a servant-maid had been brought down to\n      the door dead, and the buriers or bearers, as they were called,\n      put her into the cart, wrapt only in a green rug, and carried her\n      The watchman had knocked at the door, it seems, when he heard\n      that noise and crying, as above, and nobody answered a great\n      while; but at last one looked out and said with an angry, quick\n      tone, and yet a kind of crying voice, or a voice of one that was\n      crying, \u2018What d\u2019ye want, that ye make such a knocking?\u2019 He\n      answered, \u2018I am the watchman! How do you do? What is the matter?\u2019\n      The person answered, \u2018What is that to you? Stop the dead-cart.\u2019\n      This, it seems, was about one o\u2019clock. Soon after, as the fellow\n      said, he stopped the dead-cart, and then knocked again, but\n      nobody answered. He continued knocking, and the bellman called\n      out several times, \u2018Bring out your dead\u2019; but nobody answered,\n      till the man that drove the cart, being called to other houses,\n      would stay no longer, and drove away.\n      The watchman knew not what to make of all this, so he let them\n      alone till the morning-man or day-watchman, as they called him,\n      came to relieve him. Giving him an account of the particulars,\n      they knocked at the door a great while, but nobody answered; and\n      they observed that the window or casement at which the person had\n      looked out who had answered before continued open, being up two\n      pair of stairs.\n      Upon this the two men, to satisfy their curiosity, got a long\n      ladder, and one of them went up to the window and looked into the\n      room, where he saw a woman lying dead upon the floor in a dismal\n      manner, having no clothes on her but her shift. But though he\n      called aloud, and putting in his long staff, knocked hard on the\n      floor, yet nobody stirred or answered; neither could he hear any\n      noise in the house.\n      He came down again upon this, and acquainted his fellow, who went\n      up also; and finding it just so, they resolved to acquaint either\n      the Lord Mayor or some other magistrate of it, but did not offer\n      to go in at the window. The magistrate, it seems, upon the\n      information of the two men, ordered the house to be broke open, a\n      constable and other persons being appointed to be present, that\n      nothing might be plundered; and accordingly it was so done, when\n      nobody was found in the house but that young woman, who having\n      been infected and past recovery, the rest had left her to die by\n      herself, and were every one gone, having found some way to delude\n      the watchman, and to get open the door, or get out at some\n      back-door, or over the tops of the houses, so that he knew\n      nothing of it; and as to those cries and shrieks which he heard,\n      it was supposed they were the passionate cries of the family at\n      the bitter parting, which, to be sure, it was to them all, this\n      being the sister to the mistress of the family. The man of the\n      house, his wife, several children, and servants, being all gone\n      and fled, whether sick or sound, that I could never learn; nor,\n      indeed, did I make much inquiry after it.\n      Many such escapes were made out of infected houses, as\n      particularly when the watchman was sent of some errand; for it\n      was his business to go of any errand that the family sent him of;\n      that is to say, for necessaries, such as food and physic; to\n      fetch physicians, if they would come, or surgeons, or nurses, or\n      to order the dead-cart, and the like; but with this condition,\n      too, that when he went he was to lock up the outer door of the\n      house and take the key away with him, To evade this, and cheat\n      the watchmen, people got two or three keys made to their locks,\n      or they found ways to unscrew the locks such as were screwed on,\n      and so take off the lock, being in the inside of the house, and\n      while they sent away the watchman to the market, to the\n      bakehouse, or for one trifle or another, open the door and go out\n      as often as they pleased. But this being found out, the officers\n      afterwards had orders to padlock up the doors on the outside, and\n      place bolts on them as they thought fit.\n      At another house, as I was informed, in the street next within\n      Aldgate, a whole family was shut up and locked in because the\n      maid-servant was taken sick. The master of the house had\n      complained by his friends to the next alderman and to the Lord\n      Mayor, and had consented to have the maid carried to the\n      pest-house, but was refused; so the door was marked with a red\n      cross, a padlock on the outside, as above, and a watchman set to\n      keep the door, according to public order.\n      After the master of the house found there was no remedy, but that\n      he, his wife, and his children were to be locked up with this\n      poor distempered servant, he called to the watchman, and told him\n      he must go then and fetch a nurse for them to attend this poor\n      girl, for that it would be certain death to them all to oblige\n      them to nurse her; and told him plainly that if he would not do\n      this, the maid must perish either of the distemper or be starved\n      for want of food, for he was resolved none of his family should\n      go near her; and she lay in the garret four storey high, where\n      she could not cry out, or call to anybody for help.\n      The watchman consented to that, and went and fetched a nurse, as\n      he was appointed, and brought her to them the same evening.\n      During this interval the master of the house took his opportunity\n      to break a large hole through his shop into a bulk or stall,\n      where formerly a cobbler had sat, before or under his\n      shop-window; but the tenant, as may be supposed at such a dismal\n      time as that, was dead or removed, and so he had the key in his\n      own keeping. Having made his way into this stall, which he could\n      not have done if the man had been at the door, the noise he was\n      obliged to make being such as would have alarmed the watchman; I\n      say, having made his way into this stall, he sat still till the\n      watchman returned with the nurse, and all the next day also. But\n      the night following, having contrived to send the watchman of\n      another trifling errand, which, as I take it, was to an\n      apothecary\u2019s for a plaister for the maid, which he was to stay\n      for the making up, or some other such errand that might secure\n      his staying some time; in that time he conveyed himself and all\n      his family out of the house, and left the nurse and the watchman\n      to bury the poor wench\u2014that is, throw her into the cart\u2014and take\n      care of the house.\n      I could give a great many such stories as these, diverting\n      enough, which in the long course of that dismal year I met\n      with\u2014that is, heard of\u2014and which are very certain to be true, or\n      very near the truth; that is to say, true in the general: for no\n      man could at such a time learn all the particulars. There was\n      likewise violence used with the watchmen, as was reported, in\n      abundance of places; and I believe that from the beginning of the\n      visitation to the end, there was not less than eighteen or twenty\n      of them killed, or so wounded as to be taken up for dead, which\n      was supposed to be done by the people in the infected houses\n      which were shut up, and where they attempted to come out and were\n      opposed.\n      Nor, indeed, could less be expected, for here were so many\n      prisons in the town as there were houses shut up; and as the\n      people shut up or imprisoned so were guilty of no crime, only\n      shut up because miserable, it was really the more intolerable to\n      It had also this difference, that every prison, as we may call\n      it, had but one jailer, and as he had the whole house to guard,\n      and that many houses were so situated as that they had several\n      ways out, some more, some less, and some into several streets, it\n      was impossible for one man so to guard all the passages as to\n      prevent the escape of people made desperate by the fright of\n      their circumstances, by the resentment of their usage, or by the\n      raging of the distemper itself; so that they would talk to the\n      watchman on one side of the house, while the family made their\n      escape at another.\n      For example, in Coleman Street there are abundance of alleys, as\n      appears still. A house was shut up in that they call White\u2019s\n      Alley; and this house had a back-window, not a door, into a court\n      which had a passage into Bell Alley. A watchman was set by the\n      constable at the door of this house, and there he stood, or his\n      comrade, night and day, while the family went all away in the\n      evening out at that window into the court, and left the poor\n      fellows warding and watching for near a fortnight.\n      Not far from the same place they blew up a watchman with\n      gunpowder, and burned the poor fellow dreadfully; and while he\n      made hideous cries, and nobody would venture to come near to help\n      him, the whole family that were able to stir got out at the\n      windows one storey high, two that were left sick calling out for\n      help. Care was taken to give them nurses to look after them, but\n      the persons fled were never found, till after the plague was\n      abated they returned; but as nothing could be proved, so nothing\n      could be done to them.\n      It is to be considered, too, that as these were prisons without\n      bars and bolts, which our common prisons are furnished with, so\n      the people let themselves down out of their windows, even in the\n      face of the watchman, bringing swords or pistols in their hands,\n      and threatening the poor wretch to shoot him if he stirred or\n      called for help.\n      In other cases, some had gardens, and walls or pales, between\n      them and their neighbours, or yards and back-houses; and these,\n      by friendship and entreaties, would get leave to get over those\n      walls or pales, and so go out at their neighbours\u2019 doors; or, by\n      giving money to their servants, get them to let them through in\n      the night; so that in short, the shutting up of houses was in no\n      wise to be depended upon. Neither did it answer the end at all,\n      serving more to make the people desperate, and drive them to such\n      extremities as that they would break out at all adventures.\n      And that which was still worse, those that did thus break out\n      spread the infection farther by their wandering about with the\n      distemper upon them, in their desperate circumstances, than they\n      would otherwise have done; for whoever considers all the\n      particulars in such cases must acknowledge, and we cannot doubt\n      but the severity of those confinements made many people\n      desperate, and made them run out of their houses at all hazards,\n      and with the plague visibly upon them, not knowing either whither\n      to go or what to do, or, indeed, what they did; and many that did\n      so were driven to dreadful exigencies and extremities, and\n      perished in the streets or fields for mere want, or dropped down\n      by the raging violence of the fever upon them. Others wandered\n      into the country, and went forward any way, as their desperation\n      guided them, not knowing whither they went or would go: till,\n      faint and tired, and not getting any relief, the houses and\n      villages on the road refusing to admit them to lodge whether\n      infected or no, they have perished by the roadside or gotten into\n      barns and died there, none daring to come to them or relieve\n      them, though perhaps not infected, for nobody would believe them.\n      On the other hand, when the plague at first seized a family that\n      is to say, when any body of the family had gone out and unwarily\n      or otherwise catched the distemper and brought it home\u2014it was\n      certainly known by the family before it was known to the\n      officers, who, as you will see by the order, were appointed to\n      examine into the circumstances of all sick persons when they\n      heard of their being sick.\n      In this interval, between their being taken sick and the\n      examiners coming, the master of the house had leisure and liberty\n      to remove himself or all his family, if he knew whither to go,\n      and many did so. But the great disaster was that many did thus\n      after they were really infected themselves, and so carried the\n      disease into the houses of those who were so hospitable as to\n      receive them; which, it must be confessed, was very cruel and\n      ungrateful.\n      And this was in part the reason of the general notion, or scandal\n      rather, which went about of the temper of people infected:\n      namely, that they did not take the least care or make any scruple\n      of infecting others, though I cannot say but there might be some\n      truth in it too, but not so general as was reported. What natural\n      reason could be given for so wicked a thing at a time when they\n      might conclude themselves just going to appear at the bar of\n      Divine justice I know not. I am very well satisfied that it\n      cannot be reconciled to religion and principle any more than it\n      can be to generosity and Humanity, but I may speak of that again.\n      I am speaking now of people made desperate by the apprehensions\n      of their being shut up, and their breaking out by stratagem or\n      force, either before or after they were shut up, whose misery was\n      not lessened when they were out, but sadly increased. On the\n      other hand, many that thus got away had retreats to go to and\n      other houses, where they locked themselves up and kept hid till\n      the plague was over; and many families, foreseeing the approach\n      of the distemper, laid up stores of provisions sufficient for\n      their whole families, and shut themselves up, and that so\n      entirely that they were neither seen or heard of till the\n      infection was quite ceased, and then came abroad sound and well.\n      I might recollect several such as these, and give you the\n      particulars of their management; for doubtless it was the most\n      effectual secure step that could be taken for such whose\n      circumstances would not admit them to remove, or who had not\n      retreats abroad proper for the case; for in being thus shut up\n      they were as if they had been a hundred miles off. Nor do I\n      remember that any one of those families miscarried. Among these,\n      several Dutch merchants were particularly remarkable, who kept\n      their houses like little garrisons besieged suffering none to go\n      in or out or come near them, particularly one in a court in\n      Throgmorton Street whose house looked into Draper\u2019s Garden.\n      But I come back to the case of families infected and shut up by\n      the magistrates. The misery of those families is not to be\n      expressed; and it was generally in such houses that we heard the\n      most dismal shrieks and outcries of the poor people, terrified\n      and even frighted to death by the sight of the condition of their\n      dearest relations, and by the terror of being imprisoned as they\n      I remember, and while I am writing this story I think I hear the\n      very sound of it, a certain lady had an only daughter, a young\n      maiden about nineteen years old, and who was possessed of a very\n      considerable fortune. They were only lodgers in the house where\n      they were. The young woman, her mother, and the maid had been\n      abroad on some occasion, I do not remember what, for the house\n      was not shut up; but about two hours after they came home the\n      young lady complained she was not well; in a quarter of an hour\n      more she vomited and had a violent pain in her head. \u2018Pray God\u2019,\n      says her mother, in a terrible fright, \u2018my child has not the\n      distemper!\u2019 The pain in her head increasing, her mother ordered\n      the bed to be warmed, and resolved to put her to bed, and\n      prepared to give her things to sweat, which was the ordinary\n      remedy to be taken when the first apprehensions of the distemper\n      began.\n      While the bed was airing the mother undressed the young woman,\n      and just as she was laid down in the bed, she, looking upon her\n      body with a candle, immediately discovered the fatal tokens on\n      the inside of her thighs. Her mother, not being able to contain\n      herself, threw down her candle and shrieked out in such a\n      frightful manner that it was enough to place horror upon the\n      stoutest heart in the world; nor was it one scream or one cry,\n      but the fright having seized her spirits, she\u2014fainted first, then\n      recovered, then ran all over the house, up the stairs and down\n      the stairs, like one distracted, and indeed really was\n      distracted, and continued screeching and crying out for several\n      hours void of all sense, or at least government of her senses,\n      and, as I was told, never came thoroughly to herself again. As to\n      the young maiden, she was a dead corpse from that moment, for the\n      gangrene which occasions the spots had spread [over] her whole\n      body, and she died in less than two hours. But still the mother\n      continued crying out, not knowing anything more of her child,\n      several hours after she was dead. It is so long ago that I am not\n      certain, but I think the mother never recovered, but died in two\n      or three weeks after.\n      This was an extraordinary case, and I am therefore the more\n      particular in it, because I came so much to the knowledge of it;\n      but there were innumerable such-like cases, and it was seldom\n      that the weekly bill came in but there were two or three put in,\n      \u2018frighted\u2019; that is, that may well be called frighted to death.\n      But besides those who were so frighted as to die upon the spot,\n      there were great numbers frighted to other extremes, some\n      frighted out of their senses, some out of their memory, and some\n      out of their understanding. But I return to the shutting up of\n      houses.\n      As several people, I say, got out of their houses by stratagem\n      after they were shut up, so others got out by bribing the\n      watchmen, and giving them money to let them go privately out in\n      the night. I must confess I thought it at that time the most\n      innocent corruption or bribery that any man could be guilty of,\n      and therefore could not but pity the poor men, and think it was\n      hard when three of those watchmen were publicly whipped through\n      the streets for suffering people to go out of houses shut up.\n      But notwithstanding that severity, money prevailed with the poor\n      men, and many families found means to make sallies out, and\n      escape that way after they had been shut up; but these were\n      generally such as had some places to retire to; and though there\n      was no easy passing the roads any whither after the 1st of\n      August, yet there were many ways of retreat, and particularly, as\n      I hinted, some got tents and set them up in the fields, carrying\n      beds or straw to lie on, and provisions to eat, and so lived in\n      them as hermits in a cell, for nobody would venture to come near\n      them; and several stories were told of such, some comical, some\n      tragical, some who lived like wandering pilgrims in the deserts,\n      and escaped by making themselves exiles in such a manner as is\n      scarce to be credited, and who yet enjoyed more liberty than was\n      to be expected in such cases.\n      I have by me a story of two brothers and their kinsman, who being\n      single men, but that had stayed in the city too long to get away,\n      and indeed not knowing where to go to have any retreat, nor\n      having wherewith to travel far, took a course for their own\n      preservation, which though in itself at first desperate, yet was\n      so natural that it may be wondered that no more did so at that\n      time. They were but of mean condition, and yet not so very poor\n      as that they could not furnish themselves with some little\n      conveniences such as might serve to keep life and soul together;\n      and finding the distemper increasing in a terrible manner, they\n      resolved to shift as well as they could, and to be gone.\n      One of them had been a soldier in the late wars, and before that\n      in the Low Countries, and having been bred to no particular\n      employment but his arms, and besides being wounded, and not able\n      to work very hard, had for some time been employed at a baker\u2019s\n      of sea-biscuit in Wapping.\n      The brother of this man was a seaman too, but somehow or other\n      had been hurt of one leg, that he could not go to sea, but had\n      worked for his living at a sailmaker\u2019s in Wapping, or\n      thereabouts; and being a good husband, had laid up some money,\n      and was the richest of the three.\n      The third man was a joiner or carpenter by trade, a handy fellow,\n      and he had no wealth but his box or basket of tools, with the\n      help of which he could at any time get his living, such a time as\n      this excepted, wherever he went\u2014and he lived near Shadwell.\n      They all lived in Stepney parish, which, as I have said, being\n      the last that was infected, or at least violently, they stayed\n      there till they evidently saw the plague was abating at the west\n      part of the town, and coming towards the east, where they lived.\n      The story of those three men, if the reader will be content to\n      have me give it in their own persons, without taking upon me to\n      either vouch the particulars or answer for any mistakes, I shall\n      give as distinctly as I can, believing the history will be a very\n      good pattern for any poor man to follow, in case the like public\n      desolation should happen here; and if there may be no such\n      occasion, which God of His infinite mercy grant us, still the\n      story may have its uses so many ways as that it will, I hope,\n      never be said that the relating has been unprofitable.\n      I say all this previous to the history, having yet, for the\n      present, much more to say before I quit my own part.\n      I went all the first part of the time freely about the streets,\n      though not so freely as to run myself into apparent danger,\n      except when they dug the great pit in the churchyard of our\n      parish of Aldgate. A terrible pit it was, and I could not resist\n      my curiosity to go and see it. As near as I may judge, it was\n      about forty feet in length, and about fifteen or sixteen feet\n      broad, and at the time I first looked at it, about nine feet\n      deep; but it was said they dug it near twenty feet deep\n      afterwards in one part of it, till they could go no deeper for\n      the water; for they had, it seems, dug several large pits before\n      this. For though the plague was long a-coming to our parish, yet,\n      when it did come, there was no parish in or about London where it\n      raged with such violence as in the two parishes of Aldgate and\n      Whitechappel.\n      I say they had dug several pits in another ground, when the\n      distemper began to spread in our parish, and especially when the\n      dead-carts began to go about, which was not, in our parish, till\n      the beginning of August. Into these pits they had put perhaps\n      fifty or sixty bodies each; then they made larger holes wherein\n      they buried all that the cart brought in a week, which, by the\n      middle to the end of August, came to from 200 to 400 a week; and\n      they could not well dig them larger, because of the order of the\n      magistrates confining them to leave no bodies within six feet of\n      the surface; and the water coming on at about seventeen or\n      eighteen feet, they could not well, I say, put more in one pit.\n      But now, at the beginning of September, the plague raging in a\n      dreadful manner, and the number of burials in our parish\n      increasing to more than was ever buried in any parish about\n      London of no larger extent, they ordered this dreadful gulf to be\n      dug\u2014for such it was, rather than a pit.\n      They had supposed this pit would have supplied them for a month\n      or more when they dug it, and some blamed the churchwardens for\n      suffering such a frightful thing, telling them they were making\n      preparations to bury the whole parish, and the like; but time\n      made it appear the churchwardens knew the condition of the parish\n      better than they did: for, the pit being finished the 4th of\n      September, I think, they began to bury in it the 6th, and by the\n      20th, which was just two weeks, they had thrown into it 1114\n      bodies when they were obliged to fill it up, the bodies being\n      then come to lie within six feet of the surface. I doubt not but\n      there may be some ancient persons alive in the parish who can\n      justify the fact of this, and are able to show even in what place\n      of the churchyard the pit lay better than I can. The mark of it\n      also was many years to be seen in the churchyard on the surface,\n      lying in length parallel with the passage which goes by the west\n      wall of the churchyard out of Houndsditch, and turns east again\n      into Whitechappel, coming out near the Three Nuns\u2019 Inn.\n      It was about the 10th of September that my curiosity led, or\n      rather drove, me to go and see this pit again, when there had\n      been near 400 people buried in it; and I was not content to see\n      it in the day-time, as I had done before, for then there would\n      have been nothing to have been seen but the loose earth; for all\n      the bodies that were thrown in were immediately covered with\n      earth by those they called the buriers, which at other times were\n      called bearers; but I resolved to go in the night and see some of\n      them thrown in.\n      There was a strict order to prevent people coming to those pits,\n      and that was only to prevent infection. But after some time that\n      order was more necessary, for people that were infected and near\n      their end, and delirious also, would run to those pits, wrapt in\n      blankets or rugs, and throw themselves in, and, as they said,\n      bury themselves. I cannot say that the officers suffered any\n      willingly to lie there; but I have heard that in a great pit in\n      Finsbury, in the parish of Cripplegate, it lying open then to the\n      fields, for it was not then walled about, [many] came and threw\n      themselves in, and expired there, before they threw any earth\n      upon them; and that when they came to bury others and found them\n      there, they were quite dead, though not cold.\n      This may serve a little to describe the dreadful condition of\n      that day, though it is impossible to say anything that is able to\n      give a true idea of it to those who did not see it, other than\n      this, that it was indeed very, very, very dreadful, and such as\n      no tongue can express.\n      I got admittance into the churchyard by being acquainted with the\n      sexton who attended; who, though he did not refuse me at all, yet\n      earnestly persuaded me not to go, telling me very seriously (for\n      he was a good, religious, and sensible man) that it was indeed\n      their business and duty to venture, and to run all hazards, and\n      that in it they might hope to be preserved; but that I had no\n      apparent call to it but my own curiosity, which, he said, he\n      believed I would not pretend was sufficient to justify my running\n      that hazard. I told him I had been pressed in my mind to go, and\n      that perhaps it might be an instructing sight, that might not be\n      without its uses. \u2018Nay,\u2019 says the good man, \u2018if you will venture\n      upon that score, name of God go in; for, depend upon it, \u2019twill\n      be a sermon to you, it may be, the best that ever you heard in\n      your life. \u2019Tis a speaking sight,\u2019 says he, \u2018and has a voice with\n      it, and a loud one, to call us all to repentance\u2019; and with that\n      he opened the door and said, \u2018Go, if you will.\u2019\n      His discourse had shocked my resolution a little, and I stood\n      wavering for a good while, but just at that interval I saw two\n      links come over from the end of the Minories, and heard the\n      bellman, and then appeared a dead-cart, as they called it, coming\n      over the streets; so I could no longer resist my desire of seeing\n      it, and went in. There was nobody, as I could perceive at first,\n      in the churchyard, or going into it, but the buriers and the\n      fellow that drove the cart, or rather led the horse and cart; but\n      when they came up to the pit they saw a man go to and again,\n      muffled up in a brown Cloak, and making motions with his hands\n      under his cloak, as if he was in great agony, and the buriers\n      immediately gathered about him, supposing he was one of those\n      poor delirious or desperate creatures that used to pretend, as I\n      have said, to bury themselves. He said nothing as he walked\n      about, but two or three times groaned very deeply and loud, and\n      sighed as he would break his heart.\n      When the buriers came up to him they soon found he was neither a\n      person infected and desperate, as I have observed above, or a\n      person distempered\u2014in mind, but one oppressed with a dreadful\n      weight of grief indeed, having his wife and several of his\n      children all in the cart that was just come in with him, and he\n      followed in an agony and excess of sorrow. He mourned heartily,\n      as it was easy to see, but with a kind of masculine grief that\n      could not give itself vent by tears; and calmly defying the\n      buriers to let him alone, said he would only see the bodies\n      thrown in and go away, so they left importuning him. But no\n      sooner was the cart turned round and the bodies shot into the pit\n      promiscuously, which was a surprise to him, for he at least\n      expected they would have been decently laid in, though indeed he\n      was afterwards convinced that was impracticable; I say, no sooner\n      did he see the sight but he cried out aloud, unable to contain\n      himself. I could not hear what he said, but he went backward two\n      or three steps and fell down in a swoon. The buriers ran to him\n      and took him up, and in a little while he came to himself, and\n      they led him away to the Pie Tavern over against the end of\n      Houndsditch, where, it seems, the man was known, and where they\n      took care of him. He looked into the pit again as he went away,\n      but the buriers had covered the bodies so immediately with\n      throwing in earth, that though there was light enough, for there\n      were lanterns, and candles in them, placed all night round the\n      sides of the pit, upon heaps of earth, seven or eight, or perhaps\n      more, yet nothing could be seen.\n      This was a mournful scene indeed, and affected me almost as much\n      as the rest; but the other was awful and full of terror. The cart\n      had in it sixteen or seventeen bodies; some were wrapt up in\n      linen sheets, some in rags, some little other than naked, or so\n      loose that what covering they had fell from them in the shooting\n      out of the cart, and they fell quite naked among the rest; but\n      the matter was not much to them, or the indecency much to any one\n      else, seeing they were all dead, and were to be huddled together\n      into the common grave of mankind, as we may call it, for here was\n      no difference made, but poor and rich went together; there was no\n      other way of burials, neither was it possible there should, for\n      coffins were not to be had for the prodigious numbers that fell\n      in such a calamity as this.\n      It was reported by way of scandal upon the buriers, that if any\n      corpse was delivered to them decently wound up, as we called it\n      then, in a winding-sheet tied over the head and feet, which some\n      did, and which was generally of good linen; I say, it was\n      reported that the buriers were so wicked as to strip them in the\n      cart and carry them quite naked to the ground. But as I cannot\n      easily credit anything so vile among Christians, and at a time so\n      filled with terrors as that was, I can only relate it and leave\n      it undetermined.\n      Innumerable stories also went about of the cruel behaviours and\n      practices of nurses who tended the sick, and of their hastening\n      on the fate of those they tended in their sickness. But I shall\n      say more of this in its place.\n      I was indeed shocked with this sight; it almost overwhelmed me,\n      and I went away with my heart most afflicted, and full of the\n      afflicting thoughts, such as I cannot describe just at my going\n      out of the church, and turning up the street towards my own\n      house, I saw another cart with links, and a bellman going before,\n      coming out of Harrow Alley in the Butcher Row, on the other side\n      of the way, and being, as I perceived, very full of dead bodies,\n      it went directly over the street also toward the church. I stood\n      a while, but I had no stomach to go back again to see the same\n      dismal scene over again, so I went directly home, where I could\n      not but consider with thankfulness the risk I had run, believing\n      I had gotten no injury, as indeed I had not.\n      Here the poor unhappy gentleman\u2019s grief came into my head again,\n      and indeed I could not but shed tears in the reflection upon it,\n      perhaps more than he did himself; but his case lay so heavy upon\n      my mind that I could not prevail with myself, but that I must go\n      out again into the street, and go to the Pie Tavern, resolving to\n      inquire what became of him.\n      It was by this time one o\u2019clock in the morning, and yet the poor\n      gentleman was there. The truth was, the people of the house,\n      knowing him, had entertained him, and kept him there all the\n      night, notwithstanding the danger of being infected by him,\n      though it appeared the man was perfectly sound himself.\n      It is with regret that I take notice of this tavern. The people\n      were civil, mannerly, and an obliging sort of folks enough, and\n      had till this time kept their house open and their trade going\n      on, though not so very publicly as formerly: but there was a\n      dreadful set of fellows that used their house, and who, in the\n      middle of all this horror, met there every night, behaved with\n      all the revelling and roaring extravagances as is usual for such\n      people to do at other times, and, indeed, to such an offensive\n      degree that the very master and mistress of the house grew first\n      ashamed and then terrified at them.\n      They sat generally in a room next the street, and as they always\n      kept late hours, so when the dead-cart came across the street-end\n      to go into Houndsditch, which was in view of the tavern windows,\n      they would frequently open the windows as soon as they heard the\n      bell and look out at them; and as they might often hear sad\n      lamentations of people in the streets or at their windows as the\n      carts went along, they would make their impudent mocks and jeers\n      at them, especially if they heard the poor people call upon God\n      to have mercy upon them, as many would do at those times in their\n      ordinary passing along the streets.\n      These gentlemen, being something disturbed with the clutter of\n      bringing the poor gentleman into the house, as above, were first\n      angry and very high with the master of the house for suffering\n      such a fellow, as they called him, to be brought out of the grave\n      into their house; but being answered that the man was a\n      neighbour, and that he was sound, but overwhelmed with the\n      calamity of his family, and the like, they turned their anger\n      into ridiculing the man and his sorrow for his wife and children,\n      taunted him with want of courage to leap into the great pit and\n      go to heaven, as they jeeringly expressed it, along with them,\n      adding some very profane and even blasphemous expressions.\n      They were at this vile work when I came back to the house, and,\n      as far as I could see, though the man sat still, mute and\n      disconsolate, and their affronts could not divert his sorrow, yet\n      he was both grieved and offended at their discourse. Upon this I\n      gently reproved them, being well enough acquainted with their\n      characters, and not unknown in person to two of them.\n      They immediately fell upon me with ill language and oaths, asked\n      me what I did out of my grave at such a time when so many\n      honester men were carried into the churchyard, and why I was not\n      at home saying my prayers against the dead-cart came for me, and\n      the like.\n      I was indeed astonished at the impudence of the men, though not\n      at all discomposed at their treatment of me. However, I kept my\n      temper. I told them that though I defied them or any man in the\n      world to tax me with any dishonesty, yet I acknowledged that in\n      this terrible judgement of God many better than I were swept away\n      and carried to their grave. But to answer their question\n      directly, the case was, that I was mercifully preserved by that\n      great God whose name they had blasphemed and taken in vain by\n      cursing and swearing in a dreadful manner, and that I believed I\n      was preserved in particular, among other ends of His goodness,\n      that I might reprove them for their audacious boldness in\n      behaving in such a manner and in such an awful time as this was,\n      especially for their jeering and mocking at an honest gentleman\n      and a neighbour (for some of them knew him), who, they saw, was\n      overwhelmed with sorrow for the breaches which it had pleased God\n      to make upon his family.\n      I cannot call exactly to mind the hellish, abominable raillery\n      which was the return they made to that talk of mine: being\n      provoked, it seems, that I was not at all afraid to be free with\n      them; nor, if I could remember, would I fill my account with any\n      of the words, the horrid oaths, curses, and vile expressions,\n      such as, at that time of the day, even the worst and ordinariest\n      people in the street would not use; for, except such hardened\n      creatures as these, the most wicked wretches that could be found\n      had at that time some terror upon their minds of the hand of that\n      Power which could thus in a moment destroy them.\n      But that which was the worst in all their devilish language was,\n      that they were not afraid to blaspheme God and talk\n      atheistically, making a jest of my calling the plague the hand of\n      God; mocking, and even laughing, at the word judgement, as if the\n      providence of God had no concern in the inflicting such a\n      desolating stroke; and that the people calling upon God as they\n      saw the carts carrying away the dead bodies was all enthusiastic,\n      absurd, and impertinent.\n      I made them some reply, such as I thought proper, but which I\n      found was so far from putting a check to their horrid way of\n      speaking that it made them rail the more, so that I confess it\n      filled me with horror and a kind of rage, and I came away, as I\n      told them, lest the hand of that judgement which had visited the\n      whole city should glorify His vengeance upon them, and all that\n      were near them.\n      They received all reproof with the utmost contempt, and made the\n      greatest mockery that was possible for them to do at me, giving\n      me all the opprobrious, insolent scoffs that they could think of\n      for preaching to them, as they called it, which indeed grieved\n      me, rather than angered me; and I went away, blessing God,\n      however, in my mind that I had not spared them, though they had\n      insulted me so much.\n      They continued this wretched course three or four days after\n      this, continually mocking and jeering at all that showed\n      themselves religious or serious, or that were any way touched\n      with the sense of the terrible judgement of God upon us; and I\n      was informed they flouted in the same manner at the good people\n      who, notwithstanding the contagion, met at the church, fasted,\n      and prayed to God to remove His hand from them.\n      I say, they continued this dreadful course three or four days\u2014I\n      think it was no more\u2014when one of them, particularly he who asked\n      the poor gentleman what he did out of his grave, was struck from\n      Heaven with the plague, and died in a most deplorable manner;\n      and, in a word, they were every one of them carried into the\n      great pit which I have mentioned above, before it was quite\n      filled up, which was not above a fortnight or thereabout.\n      These men were guilty of many extravagances, such as one would\n      think human nature should have trembled at the thoughts of at\n      such a time of general terror as was then upon us, and\n      particularly scoffing and mocking at everything which they\n      happened to see that was religious among the people, especially\n      at their thronging zealously to the place of public worship to\n      implore mercy from Heaven in such a time of distress; and this\n      tavern where they held their dub being within view of the\n      church-door, they had the more particular occasion for their\n      atheistical profane mirth.\n      But this began to abate a little with them before the accident\n      which I have related happened, for the infection increased so\n      violently at this part of the town now, that people began to be\n      afraid to come to the church; at least such numbers did not\n      resort thither as was usual. Many of the clergymen likewise were\n      dead, and others gone into the country; for it really required a\n      steady courage and a strong faith for a man not only to venture\n      being in town at such a time as this, but likewise to venture to\n      come to church and perform the office of a minister to a\n      congregation, of whom he had reason to believe many of them were\n      actually infected with the plague, and to do this every day, or\n      twice a day, as in some places was done.\n      It is true the people showed an extraordinary zeal in these\n      religious exercises, and as the church-doors were always open,\n      people would go in single at all times, whether the minister was\n      officiating or no, and locking themselves into separate pews,\n      would be praying to God with great fervency and devotion.\n      Others assembled at meeting-houses, every one as their different\n      opinions in such things guided, but all were promiscuously the\n      subject of these men\u2019s drollery, especially at the beginning of\n      the visitation.\n      It seems they had been checked for their open insulting religion\n      in this manner by several good people of every persuasion, and\n      that, and the violent raging of the infection, I suppose, was the\n      occasion that they had abated much of their rudeness for some\n      time before, and were only roused by the spirit of ribaldry and\n      atheism at the clamour which was made when the gentleman was\n      first brought in there, and perhaps were agitated by the same\n      devil, when I took upon me to reprove them; though I did it at\n      first with all the calmness, temper, and good manners that I\n      could, which for a while they insulted me the more for thinking\n      it had been in fear of their resentment, though afterwards they\n      found the contrary.\n      I went home, indeed, grieved and afflicted in my mind at the\n      abominable wickedness of those men, not doubting, however, that\n      they would be made dreadful examples of God\u2019s justice; for I\n      looked upon this dismal time to be a particular season of Divine\n      vengeance, and that God would on this occasion single out the\n      proper objects of His displeasure in a more especial and\n      remarkable manner than at another time; and that though I did\n      believe that many good people would, and did, fall in the common\n      calamity, and that it was no certain rule to judge of the eternal\n      state of any one by their being distinguished in such a time of\n      general destruction neither one way or other; yet, I say, it\n      could not but seem reasonable to believe that God would not think\n      fit to spare by His mercy such open declared enemies, that should\n      insult His name and Being, defy His vengeance, and mock at His\n      worship and worshippers at such a time; no, not though His mercy\n      had thought fit to bear with and spare them at other times; that\n      this was a day of visitation, a day of God\u2019s anger, and those\n      words came into my thought, Jer. v. 9: \u2018Shall I not visit for\n      these things? saith the Lord: and shall not My soul be avenged of\n      such a nation as this?\u2019\n      These things, I say, lay upon my mind, and I went home very much\n      grieved and oppressed with the horror of these men\u2019s wickedness,\n      and to think that anything could be so vile, so hardened, and\n      notoriously wicked as to insult God, and His servants, and His\n      worship in such a manner, and at such a time as this was, when He\n      had, as it were, His sword drawn in His hand on purpose to take\n      vengeance not on them only, but on the whole nation.\n      I had, indeed, been in some passion at first with them\u2014though it\n      was really raised, not by any affront they had offered me\n      personally, but by the horror their blaspheming tongues filled me\n      with. However, I was doubtful in my thoughts whether the\n      resentment I retained was not all upon my own private account,\n      for they had given me a great deal of ill language too\u2014I mean\n      personally; but after some pause, and having a weight of grief\n      upon my mind, I retired myself as soon as I came home, for I\n      slept not that night; and giving God most humble thanks for my\n      preservation in the eminent danger I had been in, I set my mind\n      seriously and with the utmost earnestness to pray for those\n      desperate wretches, that God would pardon them, open their eyes,\n      and effectually humble them.\n      By this I not only did my duty, namely, to pray for those who\n      despitefully used me, but I fully tried my own heart, to my full\n      satisfaction, that it was not filled with any spirit of\n      resentment as they had offended me in particular; and I humbly\n      recommend the method to all those that would know, or be certain,\n      how to distinguish between their zeal for the honour of God and\n      the effects of their private passions and resentment.\n      But I must go back here to the particular incidents which occur\n      to my thoughts of the time of the visitation, and particularly to\n      the time of their shutting up houses in the first part of their\n      sickness; for before the sickness was come to its height people\n      had more room to make their observations than they had afterward;\n      but when it was in the extremity there was no such thing as\n      communication with one another, as before.\n      During the shutting up of houses, as I have said, some violence\n      was offered to the watchmen. As to soldiers, there were none to\n      be found. The few guards which the king then had, which were\n      nothing like the number entertained since, were dispersed, either\n      at Oxford with the Court, or in quarters in the remoter parts of\n      the country, small detachments excepted, who did duty at the\n      Tower and at Whitehall, and these but very few. Neither am I\n      positive that there was any other guard at the Tower than the\n      warders, as they called them, who stand at the gate with gowns\n      and caps, the same as the yeomen of the guard, except the\n      ordinary gunners, who were twenty-four, and the officers\n      appointed to look after the magazine, who were called armourers.\n      As to trained bands, there was no possibility of raising any;\n      neither, if the Lieutenancy, either of London or Middlesex, had\n      ordered the drums to beat for the militia, would any of the\n      companies, I believe, have drawn together, whatever risk they had\n      This made the watchmen be the less regarded, and perhaps\n      occasioned the greater violence to be used against them. I\n      mention it on this score to observe that the setting watchmen\n      thus to keep the people in was, first of all, not effectual, but\n      that the people broke out, whether by force or by stratagem, even\n      almost as often as they pleased; and, second, that those that did\n      thus break out were generally people infected who, in their\n      desperation, running about from one place to another, valued not\n      whom they injured: and which perhaps, as I have said, might give\n      birth to report that it was natural to the infected people to\n      desire to infect others, which report was really false.\n      And I know it so well, and in so many several cases, that I could\n      give several relations of good, pious, and religious people who,\n      when they have had the distemper, have been so far from being\n      forward to infect others that they have forbid their own family\n      to come near them, in hopes of their being preserved, and have\n      even died without seeing their nearest relations lest they should\n      be instrumental to give them the distemper, and infect or\n      endanger them. If, then, there were cases wherein the infected\n      people were careless of the injury they did to others, this was\n      certainly one of them, if not the chief, namely, when people who\n      had the distemper had broken out from houses which were so shut\n      up, and having been driven to extremities for provision or for\n      entertainment, had endeavoured to conceal their condition, and\n      have been thereby instrumental involuntarily to infect others who\n      have been ignorant and unwary.\n      This is one of the reasons why I believed then, and do believe\n      still, that the shutting up houses thus by force, and\n      restraining, or rather imprisoning, people in their own houses,\n      as I said above, was of little or no service in the whole. Nay, I\n      am of opinion it was rather hurtful, having forced those\n      desperate people to wander abroad with the plague upon them, who\n      would otherwise have died quietly in their beds.\n      I remember one citizen who, having thus broken out of his house\n      in Aldersgate Street or thereabout, went along the road to\n      Islington; he attempted to have gone in at the Angel Inn, and\n      after that the White Horse, two inns known still by the same\n      signs, but was refused; after which he came to the Pied Bull, an\n      inn also still continuing the same sign. He asked them for\n      lodging for one night only, pretending to be going into\n      Lincolnshire, and assuring them of his being very sound and free\n      from the infection, which also at that time had not reached much\n      that way.\n      They told him they had no lodging that they could spare but one\n      bed up in the garret, and that they could spare that bed for one\n      night, some drovers being expected the next day with cattle; so,\n      if he would accept of that lodging, he might have it, which he\n      did. So a servant was sent up with a candle with him to show him\n      the room. He was very well dressed, and looked like a person not\n      used to lie in a garret; and when he came to the room he fetched\n      a deep sigh, and said to the servant, \u2018I have seldom lain in such\n      a lodging as this. \u2018However, the servant assuring him again that\n      they had no better, \u2018Well,\u2019 says he, \u2018I must make shift; this is\n      a dreadful time; but it is but for one night.\u2019 So he sat down\n      upon the bedside, and bade the maid, I think it was, fetch him up\n      a pint of warm ale. Accordingly the servant went for the ale, but\n      some hurry in the house, which perhaps employed her other ways,\n      put it out of her head, and she went up no more to him.\n      The next morning, seeing no appearance of the gentleman, somebody\n      in the house asked the servant that had showed him upstairs what\n      was become of him. She started. \u2018Alas I,\u2019 says she, \u2018I never\n      thought more of him. He bade me carry him some warm ale, but I\n      forgot.\u2019 Upon which, not the maid, but some other person was sent\n      up to see after him, who, coming into the room, found him stark\n      dead and almost cold, stretched out across the bed. His clothes\n      were pulled off, his jaw fallen, his eyes open in a most\n      frightful posture, the rug of the bed being grasped hard in one\n      of his hands, so that it was plain he died soon after the maid\n      left him; and \u2019tis probable, had she gone up with the ale, she\n      had found him dead in a few minutes after he sat down upon the\n      bed. The alarm was great in the house, as anyone may suppose,\n      they having been free from the distemper till that disaster,\n      which, bringing the infection to the house, spread it immediately\n      to other houses round about it. I do not remember how many died\n      in the house itself, but I think the maid-servant who went up\n      first with him fell presently ill by the fright, and several\n      others; for, whereas there died but two in Islington of the\n      plague the week before, there died seventeen the week after,\n      whereof fourteen were of the plague. This was in the week from\n      the 11th of July to the 18th.\n      There was one shift that some families had, and that not a few,\n      when their houses happened to be infected, and that was this: the\n      families who, in the first breaking-out of the distemper, fled\n      away into the country and had retreats among their friends,\n      generally found some or other of their neighbours or relations to\n      commit the charge of those houses to for the safety of the goods\n      and the like. Some houses were, indeed, entirely locked up, the\n      doors padlocked, the windows and doors having deal boards nailed\n      over them, and only the inspection of them committed to the\n      ordinary watchmen and parish officers; but these were but few.\n      It was thought that there were not less than 10,000 houses\n      forsaken of the inhabitants in the city and suburbs, including\n      what was in the out-parishes and in Surrey, or the side of the\n      water they called Southwark. This was besides the numbers of\n      lodgers, and of particular persons who were fled out of other\n      families; so that in all it was computed that about 200,000\n      people were fled and gone. But of this I shall speak again. But I\n      mention it here on this account, namely, that it was a rule with\n      those who had thus two houses in their keeping or care, that if\n      anybody was taken sick in a family, before the master of the\n      family let the examiners or any other officer know of it, he\n      immediately would send all the rest of his family, whether\n      children or servants, as it fell out to be, to such other house\n      which he had so in charge, and then giving notice of the sick\n      person to the examiner, have a nurse or nurses appointed, and\n      have another person to be shut up in the house with them (which\n      many for money would do), so to take charge of the house in case\n      the person should die.\n      This was, in many cases, the saving a whole family, who, if they\n      had been shut up with the sick person, would inevitably have\n      perished. But, on the other hand, this was another of the\n      inconveniences of shutting up houses; for the apprehensions and\n      terror of being shut up made many run away with the rest of the\n      family, who, though it was not publicly known, and they were not\n      quite sick, had yet the distemper upon them; and who, by having\n      an uninterrupted liberty to go about, but being obliged still to\n      conceal their circumstances, or perhaps not knowing it\n      themselves, gave the distemper to others, and spread the\n      infection in a dreadful manner, as I shall explain further\n      hereafter.\n      And here I may be able to make an observation or two of my own,\n      which may be of use hereafter to those into whose hands these may\n      come, if they should ever see the like dreadful visitation. (1)\n      The infection generally came into the houses of the citizens by\n      the means of their servants, whom they were obliged to send up\n      and down the streets for necessaries; that is to say, for food or\n      physic, to bakehouses, brew-houses, shops, &c.; and who going\n      necessarily through the streets into shops, markets, and the\n      like, it was impossible but that they should, one way or other,\n      meet with distempered people, who conveyed the fatal breath into\n      them, and they brought it home to the families to which they\n      belonged. (2) It was a great mistake that such a great city as\n      this had but one pest-house; for had there been, instead of one\n      pest-house\u2014viz., beyond Bunhill Fields, where, at most, they\n      could receive, perhaps, two hundred or three hundred people\u2014I\n      say, had there, instead of that one, been several pest-houses,\n      every one able to contain a thousand people, without lying two in\n      a bed, or two beds in a room; and had every master of a family,\n      as soon as any servant especially had been taken sick in his\n      house, been obliged to send them to the next pest-house, if they\n      were willing, as many were, and had the examiners done the like\n      among the poor people when any had been stricken with the\n      infection; I say, had this been done where the people were\n      willing (not otherwise), and the houses not been shut, I am\n      persuaded, and was all the while of that opinion, that not so\n      many, by several thousands, had died; for it was observed, and I\n      could give several instances within the compass of my own\n      knowledge, where a servant had been taken sick, and the family\n      had either time to send him out or retire from the house and\n      leave the sick person, as I have said above, they had all been\n      preserved; whereas when, upon one or more sickening in a family,\n      the house has been shut up, the whole family have perished, and\n      the bearers been obliged to go in to fetch out the dead bodies,\n      not being able to bring them to the door, and at last none left\n      to do it.\n      (3) This put it out of question to me, that the calamity was\n      spread by infection; that is to say, by some certain steams or\n      fumes, which the physicians call effluvia, by the breath, or by\n      the sweat, or by the stench of the sores of the sick persons, or\n      some other way, perhaps, beyond even the reach of the physicians\n      themselves, which effluvia affected the sound who came within\n      certain distances of the sick, immediately penetrating the vital\n      parts of the said sound persons, putting their blood into an\n      immediate ferment, and agitating their spirits to that degree\n      which it was found they were agitated; and so those newly\n      infected persons communicated it in the same manner to others.\n      And this I shall give some instances of, that cannot but convince\n      those who seriously consider it; and I cannot but with some\n      wonder find some people, now the contagion is over, talk of its\n      being an immediate stroke from Heaven, without the agency of\n      means, having commission to strike this and that particular\n      person, and none other\u2014which I look upon with contempt as the\n      effect of manifest ignorance and enthusiasm; likewise the opinion\n      of others, who talk of infection being carried on by the air\n      only, by carrying with it vast numbers of insects and invisible\n      creatures, who enter into the body with the breath, or even at\n      the pores with the air, and there generate or emit most acute\n      poisons, or poisonous ovae or eggs, which mingle themselves with\n      the blood, and so infect the body: a discourse full of learned\n      simplicity, and manifested to be so by universal experience; but\n      I shall say more to this case in its order.\n      I must here take further notice that nothing was more fatal to\n      the inhabitants of this city than the supine negligence of the\n      people themselves, who, during the long notice or warning they\n      had of the visitation, made no provision for it by laying in\n      store of provisions, or of other necessaries, by which they might\n      have lived retired and within their own houses, as I have\n      observed others did, and who were in a great measure preserved by\n      that caution; nor were they, after they were a little hardened to\n      it, so shy of conversing with one another, when actually\n      infected, as they were at first: no, though they knew it.\n      I acknowledge I was one of those thoughtless ones that had made\n      so little provision that my servants were obliged to go out of\n      doors to buy every trifle by penny and halfpenny, just as before\n      it began, even till my experience showing me the folly, I began\n      to be wiser so late that I had scarce time to store myself\n      sufficient for our common subsistence for a month.\n      I had in family only an ancient woman that managed the house, a\n      maid-servant, two apprentices, and myself; and the plague\n      beginning to increase about us, I had many sad thoughts about\n      what course I should take, and how I should act. The many dismal\n      objects which happened everywhere as I went about the streets,\n      had filled my mind with a great deal of horror for fear of the\n      distemper, which was indeed very horrible in itself, and in some\n      more than in others. The swellings, which were generally in the\n      neck or groin, when they grew hard and would not break, grew so\n      painful that it was equal to the most exquisite torture; and\n      some, not able to bear the torment, threw themselves out at\n      windows or shot themselves, or otherwise made themselves away,\n      and I saw several dismal objects of that kind. Others, unable to\n      contain themselves, vented their pain by incessant roarings, and\n      such loud and lamentable cries were to be heard as we walked\n      along the streets that would pierce the very heart to think of,\n      especially when it was to be considered that the same dreadful\n      scourge might be expected every moment to seize upon ourselves.\n      I cannot say but that now I began to faint in my resolutions; my\n      heart failed me very much, and sorely I repented of my rashness.\n      When I had been out, and met with such terrible things as these I\n      have talked of, I say I repented my rashness in venturing to\n      abide in town. I wished often that I had not taken upon me to\n      stay, but had gone away with my brother and his family.\n      Terrified by those frightful objects, I would retire home\n      sometimes and resolve to go out no more; and perhaps I would keep\n      those resolutions for three or four days, which time I spent in\n      the most serious thankfulness for my preservation and the\n      preservation of my family, and the constant confession of my\n      sins, giving myself up to God every day, and applying to Him with\n      fasting, humiliation, and meditation. Such intervals as I had I\n      employed in reading books and in writing down my memorandums of\n      what occurred to me every day, and out of which afterwards I took\n      most of this work, as it relates to my observations without\n      doors. What I wrote of my private meditations I reserve for\n      private use, and desire it may not be made public on any account\n      whatever.\n      I also wrote other meditations upon divine subjects, such as\n      occurred to me at that time and were profitable to myself, but\n      not fit for any other view, and therefore I say no more of that.\n      I had a very good friend, a physician, whose name was Heath, whom\n      I frequently visited during this dismal time, and to whose advice\n      I was very much obliged for many things which he directed me to\n      take, by way of preventing the infection when I went out, as he\n      found I frequently did, and to hold in my mouth when I was in the\n      streets. He also came very often to see me, and as he was a good\n      Christian as well as a good physician, his agreeable conversation\n      was a very great support to me in the worst of this terrible\n      It was now the beginning of August, and the plague grew very\n      violent and terrible in the place where I lived, and Dr Heath\n      coming to visit me, and finding that I ventured so often out in\n      the streets, earnestly persuaded me to lock myself up and my\n      family, and not to suffer any of us to go out of doors; to keep\n      all our windows fast, shutters and curtains close, and never to\n      open them; but first, to make a very strong smoke in the room\n      where the window or door was to be opened, with rozen and pitch,\n      brimstone or gunpowder and the like; and we did this for some\n      time; but as I had not laid in a store of provision for such a\n      retreat, it was impossible that we could keep within doors\n      entirely. However, I attempted, though it was so very late, to do\n      something towards it; and first, as I had convenience both for\n      brewing and baking, I went and bought two sacks of meal, and for\n      several weeks, having an oven, we baked all our own bread; also I\n      bought malt, and brewed as much beer as all the casks I had would\n      hold, and which seemed enough to serve my house for five or six\n      weeks; also I laid in a quantity of salt butter and Cheshire\n      cheese; but I had no flesh-meat, and the plague raged so\n      violently among the butchers and slaughter-houses on the other\n      side of our street, where they are known to dwell in great\n      numbers, that it was not advisable so much as to go over the\n      street among them.\n      And here I must observe again, that this necessity of going out\n      of our houses to buy provisions was in a great measure the ruin\n      of the whole city, for the people catched the distemper on these\n      occasions one of another, and even the provisions themselves were\n      often tainted; at least I have great reason to believe so; and\n      therefore I cannot say with satisfaction what I know is repeated\n      with great assurance, that the market-people and such as brought\n      provisions to town were never infected. I am certain the butchers\n      of Whitechappel, where the greatest part of the flesh-meat was\n      killed, were dreadfully visited, and that at least to such a\n      degree that few of their shops were kept open, and those that\n      remained of them killed their meat at Mile End and that way, and\n      brought it to market upon horses.\n      However, the poor people could not lay up provisions, and there\n      was a necessity that they must go to market to buy, and others to\n      send servants or their children; and as this was a necessity\n      which renewed itself daily, it brought abundance of unsound\n      people to the markets, and a great many that went thither sound\n      brought death home with them.\n      It is true people used all possible precaution. When any one\n      bought a joint of meat in the market they would not take it off\n      the butcher\u2019s hand, but took it off the hooks themselves. On the\n      other hand, the butcher would not touch the money, but have it\n      put into a pot full of vinegar, which he kept for that purpose.\n      The buyer carried always small money to make up any odd sum, that\n      they might take no change. They carried bottles of scents and\n      perfumes in their hands, and all the means that could be used\n      were used, but then the poor could not do even these things, and\n      they went at all hazards.\n      Innumerable dismal stories we heard every day on this very\n      account. Sometimes a man or woman dropped down dead in the very\n      markets, for many people that had the plague upon them knew\n      nothing of it till the inward gangrene had affected their vitals,\n      and they died in a few moments. This caused that many died\n      frequently in that manner in the streets suddenly, without any\n      warning; others perhaps had time to go to the next bulk or stall,\n      or to any door-porch, and just sit down and die, as I have said\n      before.\n      These objects were so frequent in the streets that when the\n      plague came to be very raging on one side, there was scarce any\n      passing by the streets but that several dead bodies would be\n      lying here and there upon the ground. On the other hand, it is\n      observable that though at first the people would stop as they\n      went along and call to the neighbours to come out on such an\n      occasion, yet afterward no notice was taken of them; but that if\n      at any time we found a corpse lying, go across the way and not\n      come near it; or, if in a narrow lane or passage, go back again\n      and seek some other way to go on the business we were upon; and\n      in those cases the corpse was always left till the officers had\n      notice to come and take them away, or till night, when the\n      bearers attending the dead-cart would take them up and carry them\n      away. Nor did those undaunted creatures who performed these\n      offices fail to search their pockets, and sometimes strip off\n      their clothes if they were well dressed, as sometimes they were,\n      and carry off what they could get.\n      But to return to the markets. The butchers took that care that if\n      any person died in the market they had the officers always at\n      hand to take them up upon hand-barrows and carry them to the next\n      churchyard; and this was so frequent that such were not entered\n      in the weekly bill, \u2018Found dead in the streets or fields\u2019, as is\n      the case now, but they went into the general articles of the\n      great distemper.\n      But now the fury of the distemper increased to such a degree that\n      even the markets were but very thinly furnished with provisions\n      or frequented with buyers compared to what they were before; and\n      the Lord Mayor caused the country people who brought provisions\n      to be stopped in the streets leading into the town, and to sit\n      down there with their goods, where they sold what they brought,\n      and went immediately away; and this encouraged the country people\n      greatly-to do so, for they sold their provisions at the very\n      entrances into the town, and even in the fields, as particularly\n      in the fields beyond Whitechappel, in Spittlefields; also in St\n      George\u2019s Fields in Southwark, in Bunhill Fields, and in a great\n      field called Wood\u2019s Close, near Islington. Thither the Lord\n      Mayor, aldermen, and magistrates sent their officers and servants\n      to buy for their families, themselves keeping within doors as\n      much as possible, and the like did many other people; and after\n      this method was taken the country people came with great\n      cheerfulness, and brought provisions of all sorts, and very\n      seldom got any harm, which, I suppose, added also to that report\n      of their being miraculously preserved.\n      As for my little family, having thus, as I have said, laid in a\n      store of bread, butter, cheese, and beer, I took my friend and\n      physician\u2019s advice, and locked myself up, and my family, and\n      resolved to suffer the hardship of living a few months without\n      flesh-meat, rather than to purchase it at the hazard of our\n      lives.\n      But though I confined my family, I could not prevail upon my\n      unsatisfied curiosity to stay within entirely myself; and though\n      I generally came frighted and terrified home, yet I could not\n      restrain; only that indeed I did not do it so frequently as at\n      first.\n      I had some little obligations, indeed, upon me to go to my\n      brother\u2019s house, which was in Coleman Street parish and which he\n      had left to my care, and I went at first every day, but\n      afterwards only once or twice a week.\n      In these walks I had many dismal scenes before my eyes, as\n      particularly of persons falling dead in the streets, terrible\n      shrieks and screechings of women, who, in their agonies, would\n      throw open their chamber windows and cry out in a dismal,\n      surprising manner. It is impossible to describe the variety of\n      postures in which the passions of the poor people would express\n      themselves.\n      Passing through Tokenhouse Yard, in Lothbury, of a sudden a\n      casement violently opened just over my head, and a woman gave\n      three frightful screeches, and then cried, \u2018Oh! death, death,\n      death!\u2019 in a most inimitable tone, and which struck me with\n      horror and a chillness in my very blood. There was nobody to be\n      seen in the whole street, neither did any other window open, for\n      people had no curiosity now in any case, nor could anybody help\n      one another, so I went on to pass into Bell Alley.\n      Just in Bell Alley, on the right hand of the passage, there was a\n      more terrible cry than that, though it was not so directed out at\n      the window; but the whole family was in a terrible fright, and I\n      could hear women and children run screaming about the rooms like\n      distracted, when a garret-window opened and somebody from a\n      window on the other side the alley called and asked, \u2018What is the\n      matter?\u2019 upon which, from the first window, it was answered, \u2018Oh\n      Lord, my old master has hanged himself!\u2019 The other asked again,\n      \u2018Is he quite dead?\u2019 and the first answered, \u2018Ay, ay, quite dead;\n      quite dead and cold!\u2019 This person was a merchant and a deputy\n      alderman, and very rich. I care not to mention the name, though I\n      knew his name too, but that would be an hardship to the family,\n      which is now flourishing again.\n      But this is but one; it is scarce credible what dreadful cases\n      happened in particular families every day. People in the rage of\n      the distemper, or in the torment of their swellings, which was\n      indeed intolerable, running out of their own government, raving\n      and distracted, and oftentimes laying violent hands upon\n      themselves, throwing themselves out at their windows, shooting\n      themselves &c.; mothers murdering their own children in their\n      lunacy, some dying of mere grief as a passion, some of mere\n      fright and surprise without any infection at all, others frighted\n      into idiotism and foolish distractions, some into despair and\n      lunacy, others into melancholy madness.\n      The pain of the swelling was in particular very violent, and to\n      some intolerable; the physicians and surgeons may be said to have\n      tortured many poor creatures even to death. The swellings in some\n      grew hard, and they applied violent drawing-plaisters or\n      poultices to break them, and if these did not do they cut and\n      scarified them in a terrible manner. In some those swellings were\n      made hard partly by the force of the distemper and partly by\n      their being too violently drawn, and were so hard that no\n      instrument could cut them, and then they burnt them with\n      caustics, so that many died raving mad with the torment, and some\n      in the very operation. In these distresses, some, for want of\n      help to hold them down in their beds, or to look to them, laid\n      hands upon themselves as above. Some broke out into the streets,\n      perhaps naked, and would run directly down to the river if they\n      were not stopped by the watchman or other officers, and plunge\n      themselves into the water wherever they found it.\n      It often pierced my very soul to hear the groans and cries of\n      those who were thus tormented, but of the two this was counted\n      the most promising particular in the whole infection, for if\n      these swellings could be brought to a head, and to break and run,\n      or, as the surgeons call it, to digest, the patient generally\n      recovered; whereas those who, like the gentlewoman\u2019s daughter,\n      were struck with death at the beginning, and had the tokens come\n      out upon them, often went about indifferent easy till a little\n      before they died, and some till the moment they dropped down, as\n      in apoplexies and epilepsies is often the case. Such would be\n      taken suddenly very sick, and would run to a bench or bulk, or\n      any convenient place that offered itself, or to their own houses\n      if possible, as I mentioned before, and there sit down, grow\n      faint, and die. This kind of dying was much the same as it was\n      with those who die of common mortifications, who die swooning,\n      and, as it were, go away in a dream. Such as died thus had very\n      little notice of their being infected at all till the gangrene\n      was spread through their whole body; nor could physicians\n      themselves know certainly how it was with them till they opened\n      their breasts or other parts of their body and saw the tokens.\n      We had at this time a great many frightful stories told us of\n      nurses and watchmen who looked after the dying people; that is to\n      say, hired nurses who attended infected people, using them\n      barbarously, starving them, smothering them, or by other wicked\n      means hastening their end, that is to say, murdering of them; and\n      watchmen, being set to guard houses that were shut up when there\n      has been but one person left, and perhaps that one lying sick,\n      that they have broke in and murdered that body, and immediately\n      thrown them out into the dead-cart! And so they have gone scarce\n      cold to the grave.\n      I cannot say but that some such murders were committed, and I\n      think two were sent to prison for it, but died before they could\n      be tried; and I have heard that three others, at several times,\n      were excused for murders of that kind; but I must say I believe\n      nothing of its being so common a crime as some have since been\n      pleased to say, nor did it seem to be so rational where the\n      people were brought so low as not to be able to help themselves,\n      for such seldom recovered, and there was no temptation to commit\n      a murder, at least none equal to the fact, where they were sure\n      persons would die in so short a time, and could not live.\n      That there were a great many robberies and wicked practices\n      committed even in this dreadful time I do not deny. The power of\n      avarice was so strong in some that they would run any hazard to\n      steal and to plunder; and particularly in houses where all the\n      families or inhabitants have been dead and carried out, they\n      would break in at all hazards, and without regard to the danger\n      of infection, take even the clothes off the dead bodies and the\n      bed-clothes from others where they lay dead.\n      This, I suppose, must be the case of a family in Houndsditch,\n      where a man and his daughter, the rest of the family being, as I\n      suppose, carried away before by the dead-cart, were found stark\n      naked, one in one chamber and one in another, lying dead on the\n      floor, and the clothes of the beds, from whence \u2019tis supposed\n      they were rolled off by thieves, stolen and carried quite away.\n      It is indeed to be observed that the women were in all this\n      calamity the most rash, fearless, and desperate creatures, and as\n      there were vast numbers that went about as nurses to tend those\n      that were sick, they committed a great many petty thieveries in\n      the houses where they were employed; and some of them were\n      publicly whipped for it, when perhaps they ought rather to have\n      been hanged for examples, for numbers of houses were robbed on\n      these occasions, till at length the parish officers were sent to\n      recommend nurses to the sick, and always took an account whom it\n      was they sent, so as that they might call them to account if the\n      house had been abused where they were placed.\n      But these robberies extended chiefly to wearing-clothes, linen,\n      and what rings or money they could come at when the person died\n      who was under their care, but not to a general plunder of the\n      houses; and I could give you an account of one of these nurses,\n      who, several years after, being on her deathbed, confessed with\n      the utmost horror the robberies she had committed at the time of\n      her being a nurse, and by which she had enriched herself to a\n      great degree. But as for murders, I do not find that there was\n      ever any proof of the facts in the manner as it has been\n      reported, except as above.\n      They did tell me, indeed, of a nurse in one place that laid a wet\n      cloth upon the face of a dying patient whom she tended, and so\n      put an end to his life, who was just expiring before; and another\n      that smothered a young woman she was looking to when she was in a\n      fainting fit, and would have come to herself; some that killed\n      them by giving them one thing, some another, and some starved\n      them by giving them nothing at all. But these stories had two\n      marks of suspicion that always attended them, which caused me\n      always to slight them and to look on them as mere stories that\n      people continually frighted one another with. First, that\n      wherever it was that we heard it, they always placed the scene at\n      the farther end of the town, opposite or most remote from where\n      you were to hear it. If you heard it in Whitechappel, it had\n      happened at St Giles\u2019s, or at Westminster, or Holborn, or that\n      end of the town. If you heard of it at that end of the town, then\n      it was done in Whitechappel, or the Minories, or about\n      Cripplegate parish. If you heard of it in the city, why, then it\n      happened in Southwark; and if you heard of it in Southwark, then\n      it was done in the city, and the like.\n      In the next place, of what part soever you heard the story, the\n      particulars were always the same, especially that of laying a wet\n      double cloth on a dying man\u2019s face, and that of smothering a\n      young gentlewoman; so that it was apparent, at least to my\n      judgement, that there was more of tale than of truth in those\n      things.\n      However, I cannot say but it had some effect upon the people, and\n      particularly that, as I said before, they grew more cautious whom\n      they took into their houses, and whom they trusted their lives\n      with, and had them always recommended if they could; and where\n      they could not find such, for they were not very plenty, they\n      applied to the parish officers.\n      But here again the misery of that time lay upon the poor who,\n      being infected, had neither food or physic, neither physician or\n      apothecary to assist them, or nurse to attend them. Many of those\n      died calling for help, and even for sustenance, out at their\n      windows in a most miserable and deplorable manner; but it must be\n      added that whenever the cases of such persons or families were\n      represented to my Lord Mayor they always were relieved.\n      It is true, in some houses where the people were not very poor,\n      yet where they had sent perhaps their wives and children away,\n      and if they had any servants they had been dismissed;\u2014I say it is\n      true that to save the expenses, many such as these shut\n      themselves in, and not having help, died alone.\n      A neighbour and acquaintance of mine, having some money owing to\n      him from a shopkeeper in Whitecross Street or thereabouts, sent\n      his apprentice, a youth about eighteen years of age, to endeavour\n      to get the money. He came to the door, and finding it shut,\n      knocked pretty hard; and, as he thought, heard somebody answer\n      within, but was not sure, so he waited, and after some stay\n      knocked again, and then a third time, when he heard somebody\n      coming downstairs.\n      At length the man of the house came to the door; he had on his\n      breeches or drawers, and a yellow flannel waistcoat, no\n      stockings, a pair of slipped-shoes, a white cap on his head, and,\n      as the young man said, \u2018death in his face\u2019.\n      When he opened the door, says he, \u2018What do you disturb me thus\n      for?\u2019 The boy, though a little surprised, replied, \u2018I come from\n      such a one, and my master sent me for the money which he says you\n      know of.\u2019 \u2018Very well, child,\u2019 returns the living ghost; \u2018call as\n      you go by at Cripplegate Church, and bid them ring the bell\u2019; and\n      with these words shut the door again, and went up again, and died\n      the same day; nay, perhaps the same hour. This the young man told\n      me himself, and I have reason to believe it. This was while the\n      plague was not come to a height. I think it was in June, towards\n      the latter end of the month; it must be before the dead-carts\n      came about, and while they used the ceremony of ringing the bell\n      for the dead, which was over for certain, in that parish at\n      least, before the month of July, for by the 25th of July there\n      died 550 and upwards in a week, and then they could no more bury\n      in form, rich or poor.\n      I have mentioned above that notwithstanding this dreadful\n      calamity, yet the numbers of thieves were abroad upon all\n      occasions, where they had found any prey, and that these were\n      generally women. It was one morning about eleven O\u2019clock, I had\n      walked out to my brother\u2019s house in Coleman Street parish, as I\n      often did, to see that all was safe.\n      My brother\u2019s house had a little court before it, and a brick wall\n      and a gate in it, and within that several warehouses where his\n      goods of several sorts lay. It happened that in one of these\n      warehouses were several packs of women\u2019s high-crowned hats, which\n      came out of the country and were, as I suppose, for exportation:\n      whither, I know not.\n      I was surprised that when I came near my brother\u2019s door, which\n      was in a place they called Swan Alley, I met three or four women\n      with high-crowned hats on their heads; and, as I remembered\n      afterwards, one, if not more, had some hats likewise in their\n      hands; but as I did not see them come out at my brother\u2019s door,\n      and not knowing that my brother had any such goods in his\n      warehouse, I did not offer to say anything to them, but went\n      across the way to shun meeting them, as was usual to do at that\n      time, for fear of the plague. But when I came nearer to the gate\n      I met another woman with more hats come out of the gate. \u2018What\n      business, mistress,\u2019 said I, \u2018have you had there?\u2019 \u2018There are\n      more people there,\u2019 said she; \u2018I have had no more business there\n      than they.\u2019 I was hasty to get to the gate then, and said no more\n      to her, by which means she got away. But just as I came to the\n      gate, I saw two more coming across the yard to come out with hats\n      also on their heads and under their arms, at which I threw the\n      gate to behind me, which having a spring lock fastened itself;\n      and turning to the women, \u2018Forsooth,\u2019 said I, \u2018what are you doing\n      here?\u2019 and seized upon the hats, and took them from them. One of\n      them, who, I confess, did not look like a thief\u2014\u2018Indeed,\u2019 says\n      she, \u2018we are wrong, but we were told they were goods that had no\n      owner. Be pleased to take them again; and look yonder, there are\n      more such customers as we.\u2019 She cried and looked pitifully, so I\n      took the hats from her and opened the gate, and bade them be\n      gone, for I pitied the women indeed; but when I looked towards\n      the warehouse, as she directed, there were six or seven more, all\n      women, fitting themselves with hats as unconcerned and quiet as\n      if they had been at a hatter\u2019s shop buying for their money.\n      I was surprised, not at the sight of so many thieves only, but at\n      the circumstances I was in; being now to thrust myself in among\n      so many people, who for some weeks had been so shy of myself that\n      if I met anybody in the street I would cross the way from them.\n      They were equally surprised, though on another account. They all\n      told me they were neighbours, that they had heard anyone might\n      take them, that they were nobody\u2019s goods, and the like. I talked\n      big to them at first, went back to the gate and took out the key,\n      so that they were all my prisoners, threatened to lock them all\n      into the warehouse, and go and fetch my Lord Mayor\u2019s officers for\n      They begged heartily, protested they found the gate open, and the\n      warehouse door open; and that it had no doubt been broken open by\n      some who expected to find goods of greater value: which indeed\n      was reasonable to believe, because the lock was broke, and a\n      padlock that hung to the door on the outside also loose, and an\n      abundance of the hats carried away.\n      At length I considered that this was not a time to be cruel and\n      rigorous; and besides that, it would necessarily oblige me to go\n      much about, to have several people come to me, and I go to\n      several whose circumstances of health I knew nothing of; and that\n      even at this time the plague was so high as that there died 4000\n      a week; so that in showing my resentment, or even in seeking\n      justice for my brother\u2019s goods, I might lose my own life; so I\n      contented myself with taking the names and places where some of\n      them lived, who were really inhabitants in the neighbourhood, and\n      threatening that my brother should call them to an account for it\n      when he returned to his habitation.\n      Then I talked a little upon another foot with them, and asked\n      them how they could do such things as these in a time of such\n      general calamity, and, as it were, in the face of God\u2019s most\n      dreadful judgements, when the plague was at their very doors,\n      and, it may be, in their very houses, and they did not know but\n      that the dead-cart might stop at their doors in a few hours to\n      carry them to their graves.\n      I could not perceive that my discourse made much impression upon\n      them all that while, till it happened that there came two men of\n      the neighbourhood, hearing of the disturbance, and knowing my\n      brother, for they had been both dependents upon his family, and\n      they came to my assistance. These being, as I said, neighbours,\n      presently knew three of the women and told me who they were and\n      where they lived; and it seems they had given me a true account\n      of themselves before.\n      This brings these two men to a further remembrance. The name of\n      one was John Hayward, who was at that time undersexton of the\n      parish of St Stephen, Coleman Street. By undersexton was\n      understood at that time gravedigger and bearer of the dead. This\n      man carried, or assisted to carry, all the dead to their graves\n      which were buried in that large parish, and who were carried in\n      form; and after that form of burying was stopped, went with the\n      dead-cart and the bell to fetch the dead bodies from the houses\n      where they lay, and fetched many of them out of the chambers and\n      houses; for the parish was, and is still, remarkable\n      particularly, above all the parishes in London, for a great\n      number of alleys and thoroughfares, very long, into which no\n      carts could come, and where they were obliged to go and fetch the\n      bodies a very long way; which alleys now remain to witness it,\n      such as White\u2019s Alley, Cross Key Court, Swan Alley, Bell Alley,\n      White Horse Alley, and many more. Here they went with a kind of\n      hand-barrow and laid the dead bodies on it, and carried them out\n      to the carts; which work he performed and never had the distemper\n      at all, but lived about twenty years after it, and was sexton of\n      the parish to the time of his death. His wife at the same time\n      was a nurse to infected people, and tended many that died in the\n      parish, being for her honesty recommended by the parish officers;\n      yet she never was infected neither.\n      He never used any preservative against the infection, other than\n      holding garlic and rue in his mouth, and smoking tobacco. This I\n      also had from his own mouth. And his wife\u2019s remedy was washing\n      her head in vinegar and sprinkling her head-clothes so with\n      vinegar as to keep them always moist, and if the smell of any of\n      those she waited on was more than ordinary offensive, she snuffed\n      vinegar up her nose and sprinkled vinegar upon her head-clothes,\n      and held a handkerchief wetted with vinegar to her mouth.\n      It must be confessed that though the plague was chiefly among the\n      poor, yet were the poor the most venturous and fearless of it,\n      and went about their employment with a sort of brutal courage; I\n      must call it so, for it was founded neither on religion nor\n      prudence; scarce did they use any caution, but ran into any\n      business which they could get employment in, though it was the\n      most hazardous. Such was that of tending the sick, watching\n      houses shut up, carrying infected persons to the pest-house, and,\n      which was still worse, carrying the dead away to their graves.\n      It was under this John Hayward\u2019s care, and within his bounds,\n      that the story of the piper, with which people have made\n      themselves so merry, happened, and he assured me that it was\n      true. It is said that it was a blind piper; but, as John told me,\n      the fellow was not blind, but an ignorant, weak, poor man, and\n      usually walked his rounds about ten o\u2019clock at night and went\n      piping along from door to door, and the people usually took him\n      in at public-houses where they knew him, and would give him drink\n      and victuals, and sometimes farthings; and he in return would\n      pipe and sing and talk simply, which diverted the people; and\n      thus he lived. It was but a very bad time for this diversion\n      while things were as I have told, yet the poor fellow went about\n      as usual, but was almost starved; and when anybody asked how he\n      did he would answer, the dead cart had not taken him yet, but\n      that they had promised to call for him next week.\n      It happened one night that this poor fellow, whether somebody had\n      given him too much drink or no\u2014John Hayward said he had not drink\n      in his house, but that they had given him a little more victuals\n      than ordinary at a public-house in Coleman Street\u2014and the poor\n      fellow, having not usually had a bellyful for perhaps not a good\n      while, was laid all along upon the top of a bulk or stall, and\n      fast asleep, at a door in the street near London Wall, towards\n      Cripplegate, and that upon the same bulk or stall the people of\n      some house, in the alley of which the house was a corner, hearing\n      a bell which they always rang before the cart came, had laid a\n      body really dead of the plague just by him, thinking, too, that\n      this poor fellow had been a dead body, as the other was, and laid\n      there by some of the neighbours.\n      Accordingly, when John Hayward with his bell and the cart came\n      along, finding two dead bodies lie upon the stall, they took them\n      up with the instrument they used and threw them into the cart,\n      and, all this while the piper slept soundly.\n      From hence they passed along and took in other dead bodies, till,\n      as honest John Hayward told me, they almost buried him alive in\n      the cart; yet all this while he slept soundly. At length the cart\n      came to the place where the bodies were to be thrown into the\n      ground, which, as I do remember, was at Mount Mill; and as the\n      cart usually stopped some time before they were ready to shoot\n      out the melancholy load they had in it, as soon as the cart\n      stopped the fellow awaked and struggled a little to get his head\n      out from among the dead bodies, when, raising himself up in the\n      cart, he called out, \u2018Hey! where am I?\u2019 This frighted the fellow\n      that attended about the work; but after some pause John Hayward,\n      recovering himself, said, \u2018Lord, bless us! There\u2019s somebody in\n      the cart not quite dead!\u2019 So another called to him and said, \u2018Who\n      are you?\u2019 The fellow answered, \u2018I am the poor piper. Where am I?\u2019\n      \u2018Where are you?\u2019 says Hayward. \u2018Why, you are in the dead-cart,\n      and we are going to bury you.\u2019 \u2018But I an\u2019t dead though, am I?\u2019\n      says the piper, which made them laugh a little though, as John\n      said, they were heartily frighted at first; so they helped the\n      poor fellow down, and he went about his business.\n      I know the story goes he set up his pipes in the cart and\n      frighted the bearers and others so that they ran away; but John\n      Hayward did not tell the story so, nor say anything of his piping\n      at all; but that he was a poor piper, and that he was carried\n      away as above I am fully satisfied of the truth of.\n      It is to be noted here that the dead-carts in the city were not\n      confined to particular parishes, but one cart went through\n      several parishes, according as the number of dead presented; nor\n      were they tied to carry the dead to their respective parishes,\n      but many of the dead taken up in the city were carried to the\n      burying-ground in the out-parts for want of room.\n      I have already mentioned the surprise that this judgement was at\n      first among the people. I must be allowed to give some of my\n      observations on the more serious and religious part. Surely never\n      city, at least of this bulk and magnitude, was taken in a\n      condition so perfectly unprepared for such a dreadful visitation,\n      whether I am to speak of the civil preparations or religious.\n      They were, indeed, as if they had had no warning, no expectation,\n      no apprehensions, and consequently the least provision imaginable\n      was made for it in a public way. For example, the Lord Mayor and\n      sheriffs had made no provision as magistrates for the regulations\n      which were to be observed. They had gone into no measures for\n      relief of the poor. The citizens had no public magazines or\n      storehouses for corn or meal for the subsistence of the poor,\n      which if they had provided themselves, as in such cases is done\n      abroad, many miserable families who were now reduced to the\n      utmost distress would have been relieved, and that in a better\n      manner than now could be done.\n      The stock of the city\u2019s money I can say but little to. The\n      Chamber of London was said to be exceedingly rich, and it may be\n      concluded that they were so, by the vast of money issued from\n      thence in the rebuilding the public edifices after the fire of\n      London, and in building new works, such as, for the first part,\n      the Guildhall, Blackwell Hall, part of Leadenhall, half the\n      Exchange, the Session House, the Compter, the prisons of Ludgate,\n      Newgate, &c., several of the wharfs and stairs and landing-places\n      on the river; all which were either burned down or damaged by the\n      great fire of London, the next year after the plague; and of the\n      second sort, the Monument, Fleet Ditch with its bridges, and the\n      Hospital of Bethlem or Bedlam, &c. But possibly the managers of\n      the city\u2019s credit at that time made more conscience of breaking\n      in upon the orphan\u2019s money to show charity to the distressed\n      citizens than the managers in the following years did to beautify\n      the city and re-edify the buildings; though, in the first case,\n      the losers would have thought their fortunes better bestowed, and\n      the public faith of the city have been less subjected to scandal\n      and reproach.\n      It must be acknowledged that the absent citizens, who, though\n      they were fled for safety into the country, were yet greatly\n      interested in the welfare of those whom they left behind, forgot\n      not to contribute liberally to the relief of the poor, and large\n      sums were also collected among trading towns in the remotest\n      parts of England; and, as I have heard also, the nobility and the\n      gentry in all parts of England took the deplorable condition of\n      the city into their consideration, and sent up large sums of\n      money in charity to the Lord Mayor and magistrates for the relief\n      of the poor. The king also, as I was told, ordered a thousand\n      pounds a week to be distributed in four parts: one quarter to the\n      city and liberty of Westminster; one quarter or part among the\n      inhabitants of the Southwark side of the water; one quarter to\n      the liberty and parts within of the city, exclusive of the city\n      within the walls; and one-fourth part to the suburbs in the\n      county of Middlesex, and the east and north parts of the city.\n      But this latter I only speak of as a report.\n      Certain it is, the greatest part of the poor or families who\n      formerly lived by their labour, or by retail trade, lived now on\n      charity; and had there not been prodigious sums of money given by\n      charitable, well-minded Christians for the support of such, the\n      city could never have subsisted. There were, no question,\n      accounts kept of their charity, and of the just distribution of\n      it by the magistrates. But as such multitudes of those very\n      officers died through whose hands it was distributed, and also\n      that, as I have been told, most of the accounts of those things\n      were lost in the great fire which happened in the very next year,\n      and which burnt even the chamberlain\u2019s office and many of their\n      papers, so I could never come at the particular account, which I\n      used great endeavours to have seen.\n      It may, however, be a direction in case of the approach of a like\n      visitation, which God keep the city from;\u2014I say, it may be of use\n      to observe that by the care of the Lord Mayor and aldermen at\n      that time in distributing weekly great sums of money for relief\n      of the poor, a multitude of people who would otherwise have\n      perished, were relieved, and their lives preserved. And here let\n      me enter into a brief state of the case of the poor at that time,\n      and what way apprehended from them, from whence may be judged\n      hereafter what may be expected if the like distress should come\n      upon the city.\n      At the beginning of the plague, when there was now no more hope\n      but that the whole city would be visited; when, as I have said,\n      all that had friends or estates in the country retired with their\n      families; and when, indeed, one would have thought the very city\n      itself was running out of the gates, and that there would be\n      nobody left behind; you may be sure from that hour all trade,\n      except such as related to immediate subsistence, was, as it were,\n      at a full stop.\n      This is so lively a case, and contains in it so much of the real\n      condition of the people, that I think I cannot be too particular\n      in it, and therefore I descend to the several arrangements or\n      classes of people who fell into immediate distress upon this\n      occasion. For example:\n      1. All master-workmen in manufactures, especially such as\n      belonged to ornament and the less necessary parts of the people\u2019s\n      dress, clothes, and furniture for houses, such as riband-weavers\n      and other weavers, gold and silver lace makers, and gold and\n      silver wire drawers, sempstresses, milliners, shoemakers,\n      hatmakers, and glovemakers; also upholsterers, joiners,\n      cabinet-makers, looking-glass makers, and innumerable trades\n      which depend upon such as these;\u2014I say, the master-workmen in\n      such stopped their work, dismissed their journeymen and workmen,\n      and all their dependents.\n      2. As merchandising was at a full stop, for very few ships\n      ventured to come up the river and none at all went out, so all\n      the extraordinary officers of the customs, likewise the watermen,\n      carmen, porters, and all the poor whose labour depended upon the\n      merchants, were at once dismissed and put out of business.\n      3. All the tradesmen usually employed in building or repairing of\n      houses were at a full stop, for the people were far from wanting\n      to build houses when so many thousand houses were at once\n      stripped of their inhabitants; so that this one article turned\n      all the ordinary workmen of that kind out of business, such as\n      bricklayers, masons, carpenters, joiners, plasterers, painters,\n      glaziers, smiths, plumbers, and all the labourers depending on\n      4. As navigation was at a stop, our ships neither coming in or\n      going out as before, so the seamen were all out of employment,\n      and many of them in the last and lowest degree of distress; and\n      with the seamen were all the several tradesmen and workmen\n      belonging to and depending upon the building and fitting out of\n      ships, such as ship-carpenters, caulkers, ropemakers, dry\n      coopers, sailmakers, anchorsmiths, and other smiths; blockmakers,\n      carvers, gunsmiths, ship-chandlers, ship-carvers, and the like.\n      The masters of those perhaps might live upon their substance, but\n      the traders were universally at a stop, and consequently all\n      their workmen discharged. Add to these that the river was in a\n      manner without boats, and all or most part of the watermen,\n      lightermen, boat-builders, and lighter-builders in like manner\n      idle and laid by.\n      5. All families retrenched their living as much as possible, as\n      well those that fled as those that stayed; so that an innumerable\n      multitude of footmen, serving-men, shopkeepers, journeymen,\n      merchants\u2019 bookkeepers, and such sort of people, and especially\n      poor maid-servants, were turned off, and left friendless and\n      helpless, without employment and without habitation, and this was\n      really a dismal article.\n      I might be more particular as to this part, but it may suffice to\n      mention in general, all trades being stopped, employment ceased:\n      the labour, and by that the bread, of the poor were cut off; and\n      at first indeed the cries of the poor were most lamentable to\n      hear, though by the distribution of charity their misery that way\n      was greatly abated. Many indeed fled into the counties, but\n      thousands of them having stayed in London till nothing but\n      desperation sent them away, death overtook them on the road, and\n      they served for no better than the messengers of death; indeed,\n      others carrying the infection along with them, spread it very\n      unhappily into the remotest parts of the kingdom.\n      Many of these were the miserable objects of despair which I have\n      mentioned before, and were removed by the destruction which\n      followed. These might be said to perish not by the infection\n      itself but by the consequence of it; indeed, namely, by hunger\n      and distress and the want of all things: being without lodging,\n      without money, without friends, without means to get their bread,\n      or without anyone to give it them; for many of them were without\n      what we call legal settlements, and so could not claim of the\n      parishes, and all the support they had was by application to the\n      magistrates for relief, which relief was (to give the magistrates\n      their due) carefully and cheerfully administered as they found it\n      necessary, and those that stayed behind never felt the want and\n      distress of that kind which they felt who went away in the manner\n      above noted.\n      Let any one who is acquainted with what multitudes of people get\n      their daily bread in this city by their labour, whether\n      artificers or mere workmen\u2014I say, let any man consider what must\n      be the miserable condition of this town if, on a sudden, they\n      should be all turned out of employment, that labour should cease,\n      and wages for work be no more.\n      This was the case with us at that time; and had not the sums of\n      money contributed in charity by well-disposed people of every\n      kind, as well abroad as at home, been prodigiously great, it had\n      not been in the power of the Lord Mayor and sheriffs to have kept\n      the public peace. Nor were they without apprehensions, as it was,\n      that desperation should push the people upon tumults, and cause\n      them to rifle the houses of rich men and plunder the markets of\n      provisions; in which case the country people, who brought\n      provisions very freely and boldly to town, would have been\n      terrified from coming any more, and the town would have sunk\n      under an unavoidable famine.\n      But the prudence of my Lord Mayor and the Court of Aldermen\n      within the city, and of the justices of peace in the out-parts,\n      was such, and they were supported with money from all parts so\n      well, that the poor people were kept quiet, and their wants\n      everywhere relieved, as far as was possible to be done.\n      Two things besides this contributed to prevent the mob doing any\n      mischief. One was, that really the rich themselves had not laid\n      up stores of provisions in their houses as indeed they ought to\n      have done, and which if they had been wise enough to have done,\n      and locked themselves entirely up, as some few did, they had\n      perhaps escaped the disease better. But as it appeared they had\n      not, so the mob had no notion of finding stores of provisions\n      there if they had broken in as it is plain they were sometimes\n      very near doing, and which, if they had, they had finished the\n      ruin of the whole city, for there were no regular troops to have\n      withstood them, nor could the trained bands have been brought\n      together to defend the city, no men being to be found to bear\n      But the vigilance of the Lord Mayor and such magistrates as could\n      be had (for some, even of the aldermen, were dead, and some\n      absent) prevented this; and they did it by the most kind and\n      gentle methods they could think of, as particularly by relieving\n      the most desperate with money, and putting others into business,\n      and particularly that employment of watching houses that were\n      infected and shut up. And as the number of these were very great\n      (for it was said there was at one time ten thousand houses shut\n      up, and every house had two watchmen to guard it, viz., one by\n      night and the other by day), this gave opportunity to employ a\n      very great number of poor men at a time.\n      The women and servants that were turned off from their places\n      were likewise employed as nurses to tend the sick in all places,\n      and this took off a very great number of them.\n      And, which though a melancholy article in itself, yet was a\n      deliverance in its kind: namely, the plague, which raged in a\n      dreadful manner from the middle of August to the middle of\n      October, carried off in that time thirty or forty thousand of\n      these very people which, had they been left, would certainly have\n      been an insufferable burden by their poverty; that is to say, the\n      whole city could not have supported the expense of them, or have\n      provided food for them; and they would in time have been even\n      driven to the necessity of plundering either the city itself or\n      the country adjacent, to have subsisted themselves, which would\n      first or last have put the whole nation, as well as the city,\n      into the utmost terror and confusion.\n      It was observable, then, that this calamity of the people made\n      them very humble; for now for about nine weeks together there\n      died near a thousand a day, one day with another, even by the\n      account of the weekly bills, which yet, I have reason to be\n      assured, never gave a full account, by many thousands; the\n      confusion being such, and the carts working in the dark when they\n      carried the dead, that in some places no account at all was kept,\n      but they worked on, the clerks and sextons not attending for\n      weeks together, and not knowing what number they carried. This\n      account is verified by the following bills of mortality:\u2014\n      So that the gross of the people were carried off in these two\n      months; for, as the whole number which was brought in to die of\n      the plague was but 68,590, here is 50,000 of them, within a\n      trifle, in two months; I say 50,000, because, as there wants 295\n      in the number above, so there wants two days of two months in the\n      account of time.\n      Now when I say that the parish officers did not give in a full\n      account, or were not to be depended upon for their account, let\n      any one but consider how men could be exact in such a time of\n      dreadful distress, and when many of them were taken sick\n      themselves and perhaps died in the very time when their accounts\n      were to be given in; I mean the parish clerks, besides inferior\n      officers; for though these poor men ventured at all hazards, yet\n      they were far from being exempt from the common calamity,\n      especially if it be true that the parish of Stepney had, within\n      the year, 116 sextons, gravediggers, and their assistants; that\n      is to say, bearers, bellmen, and drivers of carts for carrying\n      off the dead bodies.\n      Indeed the work was not of a nature to allow them leisure to take\n      an exact tale of the dead bodies, which were all huddled together\n      in the dark into a pit; which pit or trench no man could come\n      nigh but at the utmost peril. I observed often that in the\n      parishes of Aldgate and Cripplegate, Whitechappel and Stepney,\n      there were five, six, seven, and eight hundred in a week in the\n      bills; whereas if we may believe the opinion of those that lived\n      in the city all the time as well as I, there died sometimes 2000\n      a week in those parishes; and I saw it under the hand of one that\n      made as strict an examination into that part as he could, that\n      there really died an hundred thousand people of the plague in\n      that one year whereas in the bills, the articles of the plague,\n      If I may be allowed to give my opinion, by what I saw with my\n      eyes and heard from other people that were eye-witnesses, I do\n      verily believe the same, viz., that there died at least 100,000\n      of the plague only, besides other distempers and besides those\n      which died in the fields and highways and secret Places out of\n      the compass of the communication, as it was called, and who were\n      not put down in the bills though they really belonged to the body\n      of the inhabitants. It was known to us all that abundance of poor\n      despairing creatures who had the distemper upon them, and were\n      grown stupid or melancholy by their misery, as many were,\n      wandered away into the fields and Woods, and into secret uncouth\n      places almost anywhere, to creep into a bush or hedge and die.\n      The inhabitants of the villages adjacent would, in pity, carry\n      them food and set it at a distance, that they might fetch it, if\n      they were able; and sometimes they were not able, and the next\n      time they went they should find the poor wretches lie dead and\n      the food untouched. The number of these miserable objects were\n      many, and I know so many that perished thus, and so exactly\n      where, that I believe I could go to the very place and dig their\n      bones up still; for the country people would go and dig a hole at\n      a distance from them, and then with long poles, and hooks at the\n      end of them, drag the bodies into these pits, and then throw the\n      earth in from as far as they could cast it, to cover them, taking\n      notice how the wind blew, and so coming on that side which the\n      seamen call to windward, that the scent of the bodies might blow\n      from them; and thus great numbers went out of the world who were\n      never known, or any account of them taken, as well within the\n      bills of mortality as without.\n      This, indeed, I had in the main only from the relation of others,\n      for I seldom walked into the fields, except towards Bethnal Green\n      and Hackney, or as hereafter. But when I did walk, I always saw a\n      great many poor wanderers at a distance; but I could know little\n      of their cases, for whether it were in the street or in the\n      fields, if we had seen anybody coming, it was a general method to\n      walk away; yet I believe the account is exactly true.\n      As this puts me upon mentioning my walking the streets and\n      fields, I cannot omit taking notice what a desolate place the\n      city was at that time. The great street I lived in (which is\n      known to be one of the broadest of all the streets of London, I\n      mean of the suburbs as well as the liberties) all the side where\n      the butchers lived, especially without the bars, was more like a\n      green field than a paved street, and the people generally went in\n      the middle with the horses and carts. It is true that the\n      farthest end towards Whitechappel Church was not all paved, but\n      even the part that was paved was full of grass also; but this\n      need not seem strange, since the great streets within the city,\n      such as Leadenhall Street, Bishopsgate Street, Cornhill, and even\n      the Exchange itself, had grass growing in them in several places;\n      neither cart or coach were seen in the streets from morning to\n      evening, except some country carts to bring roots and beans, or\n      peas, hay, and straw, to the market, and those but very few\n      compared to what was usual. As for coaches, they were scarce used\n      but to carry sick people to the pest-house, and to other\n      hospitals, and some few to carry physicians to such places as\n      they thought fit to venture to visit; for really coaches were\n      dangerous things, and people did not care to venture into them,\n      because they did not know who might have been carried in them\n      last, and sick, infected people were, as I have said, ordinarily\n      carried in them to the pest-houses, and sometimes people expired\n      in them as they went along.\n      It is true, when the infection came to such a height as I have\n      now mentioned, there were very few physicians which cared to stir\n      abroad to sick houses, and very many of the most eminent of the\n      faculty were dead, as well as the surgeons also; for now it was\n      indeed a dismal time, and for about a month together, not taking\n      any notice of the bills of mortality, I believe there did not die\n      less than 1500 or 1700 a day, one day with another.\n      One of the worst days we had in the whole time, as I thought, was\n      in the beginning of September, when, indeed, good people began to\n      think that God was resolved to make a full end of the people in\n      this miserable city. This was at that time when the plague was\n      fully come into the eastern parishes. The parish of Aldgate, if I\n      may give my opinion, buried above a thousand a week for two\n      weeks, though the bills did not say so many;\u2014but it surrounded me\n      at so dismal a rate that there was not a house in twenty\n      uninfected in the Minories, in Houndsditch, and in those parts of\n      Aldgate parish about the Butcher Row and the alleys over against\n      me. I say, in those places death reigned in every corner.\n      Whitechappel parish was in the same condition, and though much\n      less than the parish I lived in, yet buried near 600 a week by\n      the bills, and in my opinion near twice as many. Whole families,\n      and indeed whole streets of families, were swept away together;\n      insomuch that it was frequent for neighbours to call to the\n      bellman to go to such-and-such houses and fetch out the people,\n      for that they were all dead.\n      And, indeed, the work of removing the dead bodies by carts was\n      now grown so very odious and dangerous that it was complained of\n      that the bearers did not take care to clear such houses where all\n      the inhabitants were dead, but that sometimes the bodies lay\n      several days unburied, till the neighbouring families were\n      offended with the stench, and consequently infected; and this\n      neglect of the officers was such that the churchwardens and\n      constables were summoned to look after it, and even the justices\n      of the Hamlets were obliged to venture their lives among them to\n      quicken and encourage them, for innumerable of the bearers died\n      of the distemper, infected by the bodies they were obliged to\n      come so near. And had it not been that the number of poor people\n      who wanted employment and wanted bread (as I have said before)\n      was so great that necessity drove them to undertake anything and\n      venture anything, they would never have found people to be\n      employed. And then the bodies of the dead would have lain above\n      ground, and have perished and rotted in a dreadful manner.\n      But the magistrates cannot be enough commended in this, that they\n      kept such good order for the burying of the dead, that as fast as\n      any of these they employed to carry off and bury the dead fell\n      sick or died, as was many times the case, they immediately\n      supplied the places with others, which, by reason of the great\n      number of poor that was left out of business, as above, was not\n      hard to do. This occasioned, that notwithstanding the infinite\n      number of people which died and were sick, almost all together,\n      yet they were always cleared away and carried off every night, so\n      that it was never to be said of London that the living were not\n      able to bury the dead.\n      As the desolation was greater during those terrible times, so the\n      amazement of the people increased, and a thousand unaccountable\n      things they would do in the violence of their fright, as others\n      did the same in the agonies of their distemper, and this part was\n      very affecting. Some went roaring and crying and wringing their\n      hands along the street; some would go praying and lifting up\n      their hands to heaven, calling upon God for mercy. I cannot say,\n      indeed, whether this was not in their distraction, but, be it so,\n      it was still an indication of a more serious mind, when they had\n      the use of their senses, and was much better, even as it was,\n      than the frightful yellings and cryings that every day, and\n      especially in the evenings, were heard in some streets. I suppose\n      the world has heard of the famous Solomon Eagle, an enthusiast.\n      He, though not infected at all but in his head, went about\n      denouncing of judgement upon the city in a frightful manner,\n      sometimes quite naked, and with a pan of burning charcoal on his\n      head. What he said, or pretended, indeed I could not learn.\n      I will not say whether that clergyman was distracted or not, or\n      whether he did it in pure zeal for the poor people, who went\n      every evening through the streets of Whitechappel, and, with his\n      hands lifted up, repeated that part of the Liturgy of the Church\n      continually, \u2018Spare us, good Lord; spare Thy people, whom Thou\n      has redeemed with Thy most precious blood.\u2019 I say, I cannot speak\n      positively of these things, because these were only the dismal\n      objects which represented themselves to me as I looked through my\n      chamber windows (for I seldom opened the casements), while I\n      confined myself within doors during that most violent raging of\n      the pestilence; when, indeed, as I have said, many began to\n      think, and even to say, that there would none escape; and indeed\n      I began to think so too, and therefore kept within doors for\n      about a fortnight and never stirred out. But I could not hold it.\n      Besides, there were some people who, notwithstanding the danger,\n      did not omit publicly to attend the worship of God, even in the\n      most dangerous times; and though it is true that a great many\n      clergymen did shut up their churches, and fled, as other people\n      did, for the safety of their lives, yet all did not do so. Some\n      ventured to officiate and to keep up the assemblies of the people\n      by constant prayers, and sometimes sermons or brief exhortations\n      to repentance and reformation, and this as long as any would come\n      to hear them. And Dissenters did the like also, and even in the\n      very churches where the parish ministers were either dead or\n      fled; nor was there any room for making difference at such a time\n      as this was.\n      It was indeed a lamentable thing to hear the miserable\n      lamentations of poor dying creatures calling out for ministers to\n      comfort them and pray with them, to counsel them and to direct\n      them, calling out to God for pardon and mercy, and confessing\n      aloud their past sins. It would make the stoutest heart bleed to\n      hear how many warnings were then given by dying penitents to\n      others not to put off and delay their repentance to the day of\n      distress; that such a time of calamity as this was no time for\n      repentance, was no time to call upon God. I wish I could repeat\n      the very sound of those groans and of those exclamations that I\n      heard from some poor dying creatures when in the height of their\n      agonies and distress, and that I could make him that reads this\n      hear, as I imagine I now hear them, for the sound seems still to\n      ring in my ears.\n      If I could but tell this part in such moving accents as should\n      alarm the very soul of the reader, I should rejoice that I\n      recorded those things, however short and imperfect.\n      It pleased God that I was still spared, and very hearty and sound\n      in health, but very impatient of being pent up within doors\n      without air, as I had been for fourteen days or thereabouts; and\n      I could not restrain myself, but I would go to carry a letter for\n      my brother to the post-house. Then it was indeed that I observed\n      a profound silence in the streets. When I came to the post-house,\n      as I went to put in my letter I saw a man stand in one corner of\n      the yard and talking to another at a window, and a third had\n      opened a door belonging to the office. In the middle of the yard\n      lay a small leather purse with two keys hanging at it, with money\n      in it, but nobody would meddle with it. I asked how long it had\n      lain there; the man at the window said it had lain almost an\n      hour, but that they had not meddled with it, because they did not\n      know but the person who dropped it might come back to look for\n      it. I had no such need of money, nor was the sum so big that I\n      had any inclination to meddle with it, or to get the money at the\n      hazard it might be attended with; so I seemed to go away, when\n      the man who had opened the door said he would take it up, but so\n      that if the right owner came for it he should be sure to have it.\n      So he went in and fetched a pail of water and set it down hard by\n      the purse, then went again and fetch some gunpowder, and cast a\n      good deal of powder upon the purse, and then made a train from\n      that which he had thrown loose upon the purse. The train reached\n      about two yards. After this he goes in a third time and fetches\n      out a pair of tongs red hot, and which he had prepared, I\n      suppose, on purpose; and first setting fire to the train of\n      powder, that singed the purse and also smoked the air\n      sufficiently. But he was not content with that, but he then takes\n      up the purse with the tongs, holding it so long till the tongs\n      burnt through the purse, and then he shook the money out into the\n      pail of water, so he carried it in. The money, as I remember, was\n      about thirteen shilling and some smooth groats and brass\n      farthings.\n      There might perhaps have been several poor people, as I have\n      observed above, that would have been hardy enough to have\n      ventured for the sake of the money; but you may easily see by\n      what I have observed that the few people who were spared were\n      very careful of themselves at that time when the distress was so\n      exceeding great.\n      Much about the same time I walked out into the fields towards\n      Bow; for I had a great mind to see how things were managed in the\n      river and among the ships; and as I had some concern in shipping,\n      I had a notion that it had been one of the best ways of securing\n      one\u2019s self from the infection to have retired into a ship; and\n      musing how to satisfy my curiosity in that point, I turned away\n      over the fields from Bow to Bromley, and down to Blackwall to the\n      stairs which are there for landing or taking water.\n      Here I saw a poor man walking on the bank, or sea-wall, as they\n      call it, by himself. I walked a while also about, seeing the\n      houses all shut up. At last I fell into some talk, at a distance,\n      with this poor man; first I asked him how people did thereabouts.\n      \u2018Alas, sir!\u2019 says he, \u2018almost desolate; all dead or sick. Here\n      are very few families in this part, or in that village\u2019 (pointing\n      at Poplar), \u2018where half of them are not dead already, and the\n      rest sick.\u2019 Then he pointing to one house, \u2018There they are all\n      dead\u2019, said he, \u2018and the house stands open; nobody dares go into\n      it. A poor thief\u2019, says he, \u2018ventured in to steal something, but\n      he paid dear for his theft, for he was carried to the churchyard\n      too last night.\u2019 Then he pointed to several other houses.\n      \u2018There\u2019, says he, \u2018they are all dead, the man and his wife, and\n      five children. There\u2019, says he, \u2018they are shut up; you see a\n      watchman at the door\u2019; and so of other houses. \u2018Why,\u2019 says I,\n      \u2018what do you here all alone?\u2019 \u2018Why,\u2019 says he, \u2018I am a poor,\n      desolate man; it has pleased God I am not yet visited, though my\n      family is, and one of my children dead.\u2019 \u2018How do you mean, then,\u2019\n      said I, \u2018that you are not visited?\u2019 \u2018Why,\u2019 says he, \u2018that\u2019s my\n      house\u2019 (pointing to a very little, low-boarded house), \u2018and there\n      my poor wife and two children live,\u2019 said he, \u2018if they may be\n      said to live, for my wife and one of the children are visited,\n      but I do not come at them.\u2019 And with that word I saw the tears\n      run very plentifully down his face; and so they did down mine\n      too, I assure you.\n      \u2018But,\u2019 said I, \u2018why do you not come at them? How can you abandon\n      your own flesh and blood?\u2019 \u2018Oh, sir,\u2019 says he, \u2018the Lord forbid!\n      I do not abandon them; I work for them as much as I am able; and,\n      blessed be the Lord, I keep them from want\u2019; and with that I\n      observed he lifted up his eyes to heaven, with a countenance that\n      presently told me I had happened on a man that was no hypocrite,\n      but a serious, religious, good man, and his ejaculation was an\n      expression of thankfulness that, in such a condition as he was\n      in, he should be able to say his family did not want. \u2018Well,\u2019\n      says I, \u2018honest man, that is a great mercy as things go now with\n      the poor. But how do you live, then, and how are you kept from\n      the dreadful calamity that is now upon us all?\u2019 \u2018Why, sir,\u2019 says\n      he, \u2018I am a waterman, and there\u2019s my boat,\u2019 says he, \u2018and the\n      boat serves me for a house. I work in it in the day, and I sleep\n      in it in the night; and what I get I lay down upon that stone,\u2019\n      says he, showing me a broad stone on the other side of the\n      street, a good way from his house; \u2018and then,\u2019 says he, \u2018I\n      halloo, and call to them till I make them hear; and they come and\n      fetch it.\u2019\n      \u2018Well, friend,\u2019 says I, \u2018but how can you get any money as a\n      waterman? Does any body go by water these times?\u2019 \u2018Yes, sir,\u2019\n      says he, \u2018in the way I am employed there does. Do you see there,\u2019\n      says he, \u2018five ships lie at anchor\u2019 (pointing down the river a\n      good way below the town), \u2018and do you see\u2019, says he, \u2018eight or\n      ten ships lie at the chain there, and at anchor yonder?\u2019\n      (pointing above the town). \u2018All those ships have families on\n      board, of their merchants and owners, and such-like, who have\n      locked themselves up and live on board, close shut in, for fear\n      of the infection; and I tend on them to fetch things for them,\n      carry letters, and do what is absolutely necessary, that they may\n      not be obliged to come on shore; and every night I fasten my boat\n      on board one of the ship\u2019s boats, and there I sleep by myself,\n      and, blessed be God, I am preserved hitherto.\u2019\n      \u2018Well,\u2019 said I, \u2018friend, but will they let you come on board\n      after you have been on shore here, when this is such a terrible\n      place, and so infected as it is?\u2019\n      \u2018Why, as to that,\u2019 said he, \u2018I very seldom go up the ship-side,\n      but deliver what I bring to their boat, or lie by the side, and\n      they hoist it on board. If I did, I think they are in no danger\n      from me, for I never go into any house on shore, or touch\n      anybody, no, not of my own family; but I fetch provisions for\n      \u2018Nay,\u2019 says I, \u2018but that may be worse, for you must have those\n      provisions of somebody or other; and since all this part of the\n      town is so infected, it is dangerous so much as to speak with\n      anybody, for the village\u2019, said I, \u2018is, as it were, the beginning\n      of London, though it be at some distance from it.\u2019\n      \u2018That is true,\u2019 added he; \u2018but you do not understand me right; I\n      do not buy provisions for them here. I row up to Greenwich and\n      buy fresh meat there, and sometimes I row down the river to\n      Woolwich and buy there; then I go to single farm-houses on the\n      Kentish side, where I am known, and buy fowls and eggs and\n      butter, and bring to the ships, as they direct me, sometimes one,\n      sometimes the other. I seldom come on shore here, and I came now\n      only to call on my wife and hear how my family do, and give them\n      a little money, which I received last night.\u2019\n      \u2018Poor man!\u2019 said I; \u2018and how much hast thou gotten for them?\u2019\n      \u2018I have gotten four shillings,\u2019 said he, \u2018which is a great sum,\n      as things go now with poor men; but they have given me a bag of\n      bread too, and a salt fish and some flesh; so all helps out.\u2019\n      \u2018Well,\u2019 said I, \u2018and have you given it them yet?\u2019\n      \u2018No,\u2019 said he; \u2018but I have called, and my wife has answered that\n      she cannot come out yet, but in half-an-hour she hopes to come,\n      and I am waiting for her. Poor woman!\u2019 says he, \u2018she is brought\n      sadly down. She has a swelling, and it is broke, and I hope she\n      will recover; but I fear the child will die, but it is the Lord\u2014\u2019\n      Here he stopped, and wept very much.\n      \u2018Well, honest friend,\u2019 said I, \u2018thou hast a sure Comforter, if\n      thou hast brought thyself to be resigned to the will of God; He\n      is dealing with us all in judgement.\u2019\n      \u2018Oh, sir!\u2019 says he, \u2018it is infinite mercy if any of us are\n      spared, and who am I to repine!\u2019\n      \u2018Sayest thou so?\u2019 said I, \u2018and how much less is my faith than\n      thine?\u2019 And here my heart smote me, suggesting how much better\n      this poor man\u2019s foundation was on which he stayed in the danger\n      than mine; that he had nowhere to fly; that he had a family to\n      bind him to attendance, which I had not; and mine was mere\n      presumption, his a true dependence and a courage resting on God;\n      and yet that he used all possible caution for his safety.\n      I turned a little way from the man while these thoughts engaged\n      me, for, indeed, I could no more refrain from tears than he.\n      At length, after some further talk, the poor woman opened the\n      door and called, \u2018Robert, Robert\u2019. He answered, and bid her stay\n      a few moments and he would come; so he ran down the common stairs\n      to his boat and fetched up a sack, in which was the provisions he\n      had brought from the ships; and when he returned he hallooed\n      again. Then he went to the great stone which he showed me and\n      emptied the sack, and laid all out, everything by themselves, and\n      then retired; and his wife came with a little boy to fetch them\n      away, and called and said such a captain had sent such a thing,\n      and such a captain such a thing, and at the end adds, \u2018God has\n      sent it all; give thanks to Him.\u2019 When the poor woman had taken\n      up all, she was so weak she could not carry it at once in, though\n      the weight was not much neither; so she left the biscuit, which\n      was in a little bag, and left a little boy to watch it till she\n      came again.\n      \u2018Well, but\u2019, says I to him, \u2018did you leave her the four shillings\n      too, which you said was your week\u2019s pay?\u2019\n      \u2018Yes, yes,\u2019 says he; \u2018you shall hear her own it.\u2019 So he calls\n      again, \u2018Rachel, Rachel,\u2019 which it seems was her name, \u2018did you\n      take up the money?\u2019 \u2018Yes,\u2019 said she. \u2018How much was it?\u2019 said he.\n      \u2018Four shillings and a groat,\u2019 said she. \u2018Well, well,\u2019 says he,\n      \u2018the Lord keep you all\u2019; and so he turned to go away.\n      As I could not refrain contributing tears to this man\u2019s story, so\n      neither could I refrain my charity for his assistance. So I\n      called him, \u2018Hark thee, friend,\u2019 said I, \u2018come hither, for I\n      believe thou art in health, that I may venture thee\u2019; so I pulled\n      out my hand, which was in my pocket before, \u2018Here,\u2019 says I, \u2018go\n      and call thy Rachel once more, and give her a little more comfort\n      from me. God will never forsake a family that trust in Him as\n      thou dost.\u2019 So I gave him four other shillings, and bid him go\n      lay them on the stone and call his wife.\n      I have not words to express the poor man\u2019s thankfulness, neither\n      could he express it himself but by tears running down his face.\n      He called his wife, and told her God had moved the heart of a\n      stranger, upon hearing their condition, to give them all that\n      money, and a great deal more such as that he said to her. The\n      woman, too, made signs of the like thankfulness, as well to\n      Heaven as to me, and joyfully picked it up; and I parted with no\n      money all that year that I thought better bestowed.\n      I then asked the poor man if the distemper had not reached to\n      Greenwich. He said it had not till about a fortnight before; but\n      that then he feared it had, but that it was only at that end of\n      the town which lay south towards Deptford Bridge; that he went\n      only to a butcher\u2019s shop and a grocer\u2019s, where he generally\n      bought such things as they sent him for, but was very careful.\n      I asked him then how it came to pass that those people who had so\n      shut themselves up in the ships had not laid in sufficient stores\n      of all things necessary. He said some of them had\u2014but, on the\n      other hand, some did not come on board till they were frighted\n      into it and till it was too dangerous for them to go to the\n      proper people to lay in quantities of things, and that he waited\n      on two ships, which he showed me, that had laid in little or\n      nothing but biscuit bread and ship beer, and that he had bought\n      everything else almost for them. I asked him if there was any\n      more ships that had separated themselves as those had done. He\n      told me yes, all the way up from the point, right against\n      Greenwich, to within the shore of Limehouse and Redriff, all the\n      ships that could have room rid two and two in the middle of the\n      stream, and that some of them had several families on board. I\n      asked him if the distemper had not reached them. He said he\n      believed it had not, except two or three ships whose people had\n      not been so watchful to keep the seamen from going on shore as\n      others had been, and he said it was a very fine sight to see how\n      the ships lay up the Pool.\n      When he said he was going over to Greenwich as soon as the tide\n      began to come in, I asked if he would let me go with him and\n      bring me back, for that I had a great mind to see how the ships\n      were ranged, as he had told me. He told me, if I would assure him\n      on the word of a Christian and of an honest man that I had not\n      the distemper, he would. I assured him that I had not; that it\n      had pleased God to preserve me; that I lived in Whitechappel, but\n      was too impatient of being so long within doors, and that I had\n      ventured out so far for the refreshment of a little air, but that\n      none in my house had so much as been touched with it.\n      \u2018Well, sir,\u2019 says he, \u2018as your charity has been moved to pity me\n      and my poor family, sure you cannot have so little pity left as\n      to put yourself into my boat if you were not sound in health\n      which would be nothing less than killing me and ruining my whole\n      family.\u2019 The poor man troubled me so much when he spoke of his\n      family with such a sensible concern and in such an affectionate\n      manner, that I could not satisfy myself at first to go at all. I\n      told him I would lay aside my curiosity rather than make him\n      uneasy, though I was sure, and very thankful for it, that I had\n      no more distemper upon me than the freshest man in the world.\n      Well, he would not have me put it off neither, but to let me see\n      how confident he was that I was just to him, now importuned me to\n      go; so when the tide came up to his boat I went in, and he\n      carried me to Greenwich. While he bought the things which he had\n      in his charge to buy, I walked up to the top of the hill under\n      which the town stands, and on the east side of the town, to get a\n      prospect of the river. But it was a surprising sight to see the\n      number of ships which lay in rows, two and two, and some places\n      two or three such lines in the breadth of the river, and this not\n      only up quite to the town, between the houses which we call\n      Ratcliff and Redriff, which they name the Pool, but even down the\n      whole river as far as the head of Long Reach, which is as far as\n      the hills give us leave to see it.\n      I cannot guess at the number of ships, but I think there must be\n      several hundreds of sail; and I could not but applaud the\n      contrivance: for ten thousand people and more who attended ship\n      affairs were certainly sheltered here from the violence of the\n      contagion, and lived very safe and very easy.\n      I returned to my own dwelling very well satisfied with my day\u2019s\n      journey, and particularly with the poor man; also I rejoiced to\n      see that such little sanctuaries were provided for so many\n      families in a time of such desolation. I observed also that, as\n      the violence of the plague had increased, so the ships which had\n      families on board removed and went farther off, till, as I was\n      told, some went quite away to sea, and put into such harbours and\n      safe roads on the north coast as they could best come at.\n      But it was also true that all the people who thus left the land\n      and lived on board the ships were not entirely safe from the\n      infection, for many died and were thrown overboard into the\n      river, some in coffins, and some, as I heard, without coffins,\n      whose bodies were seen sometimes to drive up and down with the\n      tide in the river.\n      But I believe I may venture to say that in those ships which were\n      thus infected it either happened where the people had recourse to\n      them too late, and did not fly to the ship till they had stayed\n      too long on shore and had the distemper upon them (though perhaps\n      they might not perceive it) and so the distemper did not come to\n      them on board the ships, but they really carried it with them; or\n      it was in these ships where the poor waterman said they had not\n      had time to furnish themselves with provisions, but were obliged\n      to send often on shore to buy what they had occasion for, or\n      suffered boats to come to them from the shore. And so the\n      distemper was brought insensibly among them.\n      And here I cannot but take notice that the strange temper of the\n      people of London at that time contributed extremely to their own\n      destruction. The plague began, as I have observed, at the other\n      end of the town, namely, in Long Acre, Drury Lane, &c., and came\n      on towards the city very gradually and slowly. It was felt at\n      first in December, then again in February, then again in April,\n      and always but a very little at a time; then it stopped till May,\n      and even the last week in May there was but seventeen, and all at\n      that end of the town; and all this while, even so long as till\n      there died above 3000 a week, yet had the people in Redriff, and\n      in Wapping and Ratcliff, on both sides of the river, and almost\n      all Southwark side, a mighty fancy that they should not be\n      visited, or at least that it would not be so violent among them.\n      Some people fancied the smell of the pitch and tar, and such\n      other things as oil and rosin and brimstone, which is so much\n      used by all trades relating to shipping, would preserve them.\n      Others argued it, because it was in its extreamest violence in\n      Westminster and the parish of St Giles and St Andrew, &c., and\n      began to abate again before it came among them\u2014which was true\n      indeed, in part. For example\u2014\n From the 8th to the 15th August\u2014\n     -    St Margaret, Bermondsey               24\n     From the 15th to the 22nd August\u2014\n     -    St Margaret, Bermondsey               36\n      N.B.\u2014That it was observed the numbers mentioned in Stepney parish\n      at that time were generally all on that side where Stepney parish\n      joined to Shoreditch, which we now call Spittlefields, where the\n      parish of Stepney comes up to the very wall of Shoreditch\n      Churchyard, and the plague at this time was abated at St\n      Giles-in-the-Fields, and raged most violently in Cripplegate,\n      Bishopsgate, and Shoreditch parishes; but there was not ten\n      people a week that died of it in all that part of Stepney parish\n      which takes in Limehouse, Ratcliff Highway, and which are now the\n      parishes of Shadwell and Wapping, even to St Katherine\u2019s by the\n      Tower, till after the whole month of August was expired. But they\n      paid for it afterwards, as I shall observe by-and-by.\n      This, I say, made the people of Redriff and Wapping, Ratcliff and\n      Limehouse, so secure, and flatter themselves so much with the\n      plague\u2019s going off without reaching them, that they took no care\n      either to fly into the country or shut themselves up. Nay, so far\n      were they from stirring that they rather received their friends\n      and relations from the city into their houses, and several from\n      other places really took sanctuary in that part of the town as a\n      place of safety, and as a place which they thought God would pass\n      over, and not visit as the rest was visited.\n      And this was the reason that when it came upon them they were\n      more surprised, more unprovided, and more at a loss what to do\n      than they were in other places; for when it came among them\n      really and with violence, as it did indeed in September and\n      October, there was then no stirring out into the country, nobody\n      would suffer a stranger to come near them, no, nor near the towns\n      where they dwelt; and, as I have been told, several that wandered\n      into the country on Surrey side were found starved to death in\n      the woods and commons, that country being more open and more\n      woody than any other part so near London, especially about\n      Norwood and the parishes of Camberwell, Dullege, and Lusum,\n      where, it seems, nobody durst relieve the poor distressed people\n      for fear of the infection.\n      This notion having, as I said, prevailed with the people in that\n      part of the town, was in part the occasion, as I said before,\n      that they had recourse to ships for their retreat; and where they\n      did this early and with prudence, furnishing themselves so with\n      provisions that they had no need to go on shore for supplies or\n      suffer boats to come on board to bring them,\u2014I say, where they\n      did so they had certainly the safest retreat of any people\n      whatsoever; but the distress was such that people ran on board,\n      in their fright, without bread to eat, and some into ships that\n      had no men on board to remove them farther off, or to take the\n      boat and go down the river to buy provisions where it might be\n      done safely, and these often suffered and were infected on board\n      as much as on shore.\n      As the richer sort got into ships, so the lower rank got into\n      hoys, smacks, lighters, and fishing-boats; and many, especially\n      watermen, lay in their boats; but those made sad work of it,\n      especially the latter, for, going about for provision, and\n      perhaps to get their subsistence, the infection got in among them\n      and made a fearful havoc; many of the watermen died alone in\n      their wherries as they rid at their roads, as well as above\n      bridge as below, and were not found sometimes till they were not\n      in condition for anybody to touch or come near them.\n      Indeed, the distress of the people at this seafaring end of the\n      town was very deplorable, and deserved the greatest\n      commiseration. But, alas! this was a time when every one\u2019s\n      private safety lay so near them that they had no room to pity the\n      distresses of others; for every one had death, as it were, at his\n      door, and many even in their families, and knew not what to do or\n      whither to fly.\n      This, I say, took away all compassion; self-preservation, indeed,\n      appeared here to be the first law. For the children ran away from\n      their parents as they languished in the utmost distress. And in\n      some places, though not so frequent as the other, parents did the\n      like to their children; nay, some dreadful examples there were,\n      and particularly two in one week, of distressed mothers, raving\n      and distracted, killing their own children; one whereof was not\n      far off from where I dwelt, the poor lunatic creature not living\n      herself long enough to be sensible of the sin of what she had\n      done, much less to be punished for it.\n      It is not, indeed, to be wondered at: for the danger of immediate\n      death to ourselves took away all bowels of love, all concern for\n      one another. I speak in general, for there were many instances of\n      immovable affection, pity, and duty in many, and some that came\n      to my knowledge, that is to say, by hearsay; for I shall not take\n      upon me to vouch the truth of the particulars.\n      To introduce one, let me first mention that one of the most\n      deplorable cases in all the present calamity was that of women\n      with child, who, when they came to the hour of their sorrows, and\n      their pains come upon them, could neither have help of one kind\n      or another; neither midwife or neighbouring women to come near\n      them. Most of the midwives were dead, especially of such as\n      served the poor; and many, if not all the midwives of note, were\n      fled into the country; so that it was next to impossible for a\n      poor woman that could not pay an immoderate price to get any\n      midwife to come to her\u2014and if they did, those they could get were\n      generally unskilful and ignorant creatures; and the consequence\n      of this was that a most unusual and incredible number of women\n      were reduced to the utmost distress. Some were delivered and\n      spoiled by the rashness and ignorance of those who pretended to\n      lay them. Children without number were, I might say, murdered by\n      the same but a more justifiable ignorance: pretending they would\n      save the mother, whatever became of the child; and many times\n      both mother and child were lost in the same manner; and\n      especially where the mother had the distemper, there nobody would\n      come near them and both sometimes perished. Sometimes the mother\n      has died of the plague, and the infant, it may be, half born, or\n      born but not parted from the mother. Some died in the very pains\n      of their travail, and not delivered at all; and so many were the\n      cases of this kind that it is hard to judge of them.\n      Something of it will appear in the unusual numbers which are put\n      into the weekly bills (though I am far from allowing them to be\n      able to give anything of a full account) under the articles of\u2014\n     Child-bed. Abortive and Still-born. Chrisoms and Infants.\n      Take the weeks in which the plague was most violent, and compare\n      them with the weeks before the distemper began, even in the same\n      year. For example:\u2014\nChild-bed. Abortive.  Still-born.\n      To the disparity of these numbers it is to be considered and\n      allowed for, that according to our usual opinion who were then\n      upon the spot, there were not one-third of the people in the town\n      during the months of August and September as were in the months\n      of January and February. In a word, the usual number that used to\n      die of these three articles, and, as I hear, did die of them the\n      year before, was thus:\u2014\n     Abortive and still-born     458     Abortive and still-born     617\n      This inequality, I say, is exceedingly augmented when the numbers\n      of people are considered. I pretend not to make any exact\n      calculation of the numbers of people which were at this time in\n      the city, but I shall make a probable conjecture at that part\n      by-and-by. What I have said now is to explain the misery of those\n      poor creatures above; so that it might well be said, as in the\n      Scripture, Woe be to those who are with child, and to those which\n      give suck in that day. For, indeed, it was a woe to them in\n      particular.\n      I was not conversant in many particular families where these\n      things happened, but the outcries of the miserable were heard\n      afar off. As to those who were with child, we have seen some\n      calculation made; 291 women dead in child-bed in nine weeks, out\n      of one-third part of the number of whom there usually died in\n      that time but eighty-four of the same disaster. Let the reader\n      calculate the proportion.\n      There is no room to doubt but the misery of those that gave suck\n      was in proportion as great. Our bills of mortality could give but\n      little light in this, yet some it did. There were several more\n      than usual starved at nurse, but this was nothing. The misery was\n      where they were, first, starved for want of a nurse, the mother\n      dying and all the family and the infants found dead by them,\n      merely for want; and, if I may speak my opinion, I do believe\n      that many hundreds of poor helpless infants perished in this\n      manner. Secondly, not starved, but poisoned by the nurse. Nay,\n      even where the mother has been nurse, and having received the\n      infection, has poisoned, that is, infected the infant with her\n      milk even before they knew they were infected themselves; nay,\n      and the infant has died in such a case before the mother. I\n      cannot but remember to leave this admonition upon record, if ever\n      such another dreadful visitation should happen in this city, that\n      all women that are with child or that give suck should be gone,\n      if they have any possible means, out of the place, because their\n      misery, if infected, will so much exceed all other people\u2019s.\n      I could tell here dismal stories of living infants being found\n      sucking the breasts of their mothers, or nurses, after they have\n      been dead of the plague. Of a mother in the parish where I lived,\n      who, having a child that was not well, sent for an apothecary to\n      view the child; and when he came, as the relation goes, was\n      giving the child suck at her breast, and to all appearance was\n      herself very well; but when the apothecary came close to her he\n      saw the tokens upon that breast with which she was suckling the\n      child. He was surprised enough, to be sure, but, not willing to\n      fright the poor woman too much, he desired she would give the\n      child into his hand; so he takes the child, and going to a cradle\n      in the room, lays it in, and opening its cloths, found the tokens\n      upon the child too, and both died before he could get home to\n      send a preventive medicine to the father of the child, to whom he\n      had told their condition. Whether the child infected the\n      nurse-mother or the mother the child was not certain, but the\n      last most likely. Likewise of a child brought home to the parents\n      from a nurse that had died of the plague, yet the tender mother\n      would not refuse to take in her child, and laid it in her bosom,\n      by which she was infected; and died with the child in her arms\n      dead also.\n      It would make the hardest heart move at the instances that were\n      frequently found of tender mothers tending and watching with\n      their dear children, and even dying before them, and sometimes\n      taking the distemper from them and dying, when the child for whom\n      the affectionate heart had been sacrificed has got over it and\n      escaped.\n      The like of a tradesman in East Smithfield, whose wife was big\n      with child of her first child, and fell in labour, having the\n      plague upon her. He could neither get midwife to assist her or\n      nurse to tend her, and two servants which he kept fled both from\n      her. He ran from house to house like one distracted, but could\n      get no help; the utmost he could get was, that a watchman, who\n      attended at an infected house shut up, promised to send a nurse\n      in the morning. The poor man, with his heart broke, went back,\n      assisted his wife what he could, acted the part of the midwife,\n      brought the child dead into the world, and his wife in about an\n      hour died in his arms, where he held her dead body fast till the\n      morning, when the watchman came and brought the nurse as he had\n      promised; and coming up the stairs (for he had left the door\n      open, or only latched), they found the man sitting with his dead\n      wife in his arms, and so overwhelmed with grief that he died in a\n      few hours after without any sign of the infection upon him, but\n      merely sunk under the weight of his grief.\n      I have heard also of some who, on the death of their relations,\n      have grown stupid with the insupportable sorrow; and of one, in\n      particular, who was so absolutely overcome with the pressure upon\n      his spirits that by degrees his head sank into his body, so\n      between his shoulders that the crown of his head was very little\n      seen above the bone of his shoulders; and by degrees losing both\n      voice and sense, his face, looking forward, lay against his\n      collarbone and could not be kept up any otherwise, unless held up\n      by the hands of other people; and the poor man never came to\n      himself again, but languished near a year in that condition, and\n      died. Nor was he ever once seen to lift up his eyes or to look\n      upon any particular object.\n      I cannot undertake to give any other than a summary of such\n      passages as these, because it was not possible to come at the\n      particulars, where sometimes the whole families where such things\n      happened were carried off by the distemper. But there were\n      innumerable cases of this kind which presented to the eye and the\n      ear, even in passing along the streets, as I have hinted above.\n      Nor is it easy to give any story of this or that family which\n      there was not divers parallel stories to be met with of the same\n      But as I am now talking of the time when the plague raged at the\n      easternmost part of the town\u2014how for a long time the people of\n      those parts had flattered themselves that they should escape, and\n      how they were surprised when it came upon them as it did; for,\n      indeed, it came upon them like an armed man when it did come;\u2014I\n      say, this brings me back to the three poor men who wandered from\n      Wapping, not knowing whither to go or what to do, and whom I\n      mentioned before; one a biscuit-baker, one a sailmaker, and the\n      other a joiner, all of Wapping, or there-abouts.\n      The sleepiness and security of that part, as I have observed, was\n      such that they not only did not shift for themselves as others\n      did, but they boasted of being safe, and of safety being with\n      them; and many people fled out of the city, and out of the\n      infected suburbs, to Wapping, Ratcliff, Limehouse, Poplar, and\n      such Places, as to Places of security; and it is not at all\n      unlikely that their doing this helped to bring the plague that\n      way faster than it might otherwise have come. For though I am\n      much for people flying away and emptying such a town as this upon\n      the first appearance of a like visitation, and that all people\n      who have any possible retreat should make use of it in time and\n      be gone, yet I must say, when all that will fly are gone, those\n      that are left and must stand it should stand stock-still where\n      they are, and not shift from one end of the town or one part of\n      the town to the other; for that is the bane and mischief of the\n      whole, and they carry the plague from house to house in their\n      very clothes.\n      Wherefore were we ordered to kill all the dogs and cats, but\n      because as they were domestic animals, and are apt to run from\n      house to house and from street to street, so they are capable of\n      carrying the effluvia or infectious streams of bodies infected\n      even in their furs and hair? And therefore it was that, in the\n      beginning of the infection, an order was published by the Lord\n      Mayor, and by the magistrates, according to the advice of the\n      physicians, that all the dogs and cats should be immediately\n      killed, and an officer was appointed for the execution.\n      It is incredible, if their account is to be depended upon, what a\n      prodigious number of those creatures were destroyed. I think they\n      talked of forty thousand dogs, and five times as many cats; few\n      houses being without a cat, some having several, sometimes five\n      or six in a house. All possible endeavours were used also to\n      destroy the mice and rats, especially the latter, by laying\n      ratsbane and other poisons for them, and a prodigious multitude\n      of them were also destroyed.\n      I often reflected upon the unprovided condition that the whole\n      body of the people were in at the first coming of this calamity\n      upon them, and how it was for want of timely entering into\n      measures and managements, as well public as private, that all the\n      confusions that followed were brought upon us, and that such a\n      prodigious number of people sank in that disaster, which, if\n      proper steps had been taken, might, Providence concurring, have\n      been avoided, and which, if posterity think fit, they may take a\n      caution and warning from. But I shall come to this part again.\n      I come back to my three men. Their story has a moral in every\n      part of it, and their whole conduct, and that of some whom they\n      joined with, is a pattern for all poor men to follow, or women\n      either, if ever such a time comes again; and if there was no\n      other end in recording it, I think this a very just one, whether\n      my account be exactly according to fact or no.\n      Two of them are said to be brothers, the one an old soldier, but\n      now a biscuit-maker; the other a lame sailor, but now a\n      sailmaker; the third a joiner. Says John the biscuit-maker one\n      day to Thomas his brother, the sailmaker, \u2018Brother Tom, what will\n      become of us? The plague grows hot in the city, and increases\n      this way. What shall we do?\u2019\n      \u2018Truly,\u2019 says Thomas, \u2018I am at a great loss what to do, for I\n      find if it comes down into Wapping I shall be turned out of my\n      lodging.\u2019 And thus they began to talk of it beforehand.\n      John. Turned out of your lodging, Tom! If you are, I don\u2019t know\n      who will take you in; for people are so afraid of one another\n      now, there\u2019s no getting a lodging anywhere.\n      Thomas. Why, the people where I lodge are good, civil people, and\n      have kindness enough for me too; but they say I go abroad every\n      day to my work, and it will be dangerous; and they talk of\n      locking themselves up and letting nobody come near them.\n      John. Why, they are in the right, to be sure, if they resolve to\n      venture staying in town.\n      Thomas. Nay, I might even resolve to stay within doors too, for,\n      except a suit of sails that my master has in hand, and which I am\n      just finishing, I am like to get no more work a great while.\n      There\u2019s no trade stirs now. Workmen and servants are turned off\n      everywhere, so that I might be glad to be locked up too; but I do\n      not see they will be willing to consent to that, any more than to\n      the other.\n      John. Why, what will you do then, brother? And what shall I do?\n      for I am almost as bad as you. The people where I lodge are all\n      gone into the country but a maid, and she is to go next week, and\n      to shut the house quite up, so that I shall be turned adrift to\n      the wide world before you, and I am resolved to go away too, if I\n      knew but where to go.\n      Thomas. We were both distracted we did not go away at first; then\n      we might have travelled anywhere. There\u2019s no stirring now; we\n      shall be starved if we pretend to go out of town. They won\u2019t let\n      us have victuals, no, not for our money, nor let us come into the\n      towns, much less into their houses.\n      John. And that which is almost as bad, I have but little money to\n      help myself with neither.\n      Thomas. As to that, we might make shift, I have a little, though\n      not much; but I tell you there\u2019s no stirring on the road. I know\n      a couple of poor honest men in our street have attempted to\n      travel, and at Barnet, or Whetstone, or thereabouts, the people\n      offered to fire at them if they pretended to go forward, so they\n      are come back again quite discouraged.\n      John. I would have ventured their fire if I had been there. If I\n      had been denied food for my money they should have seen me take\n      it before their faces, and if I had tendered money for it they\n      could not have taken any course with me by law.\n      Thomas. You talk your old soldier\u2019s language, as if you were in\n      the Low Countries now, but this is a serious thing. The people\n      have good reason to keep anybody off that they are not satisfied\n      are sound, at such a time as this, and we must not plunder them.\n      John. No, brother, you mistake the case, and mistake me too. I\n      would plunder nobody; but for any town upon the road to deny me\n      leave to pass through the town in the open highway, and deny me\n      provisions for my money, is to say the town has a right to starve\n      me to death, which cannot be true.\n      Thomas. But they do not deny you liberty to go back again from\n      whence you came, and therefore they do not starve you.\n      John. But the next town behind me will, by the same rule, deny me\n      leave to go back, and so they do starve me between them. Besides,\n      there is no law to prohibit my travelling wherever I will on the\n      Thomas. But there will be so much difficulty in disputing with\n      them at every town on the road that it is not for poor men to do\n      it or undertake it, at such a time as this is especially.\n      John. Why, brother, our condition at this rate is worse than\n      anybody else\u2019s, for we can neither go away nor stay here. I am of\n      the same mind with the lepers of Samaria: \u2018If we stay here we are\n      sure to die\u2019, I mean especially as you and I are stated, without\n      a dwelling-house of our own, and without lodging in anybody\n      else\u2019s. There is no lying in the street at such a time as this;\n      we had as good go into the dead-cart at once. Therefore I say, if\n      we stay here we are sure to die, and if we go away we can but\n      die; I am resolved to be gone.\n      Thomas. You will go away. Whither will you go, and what can you\n      do? I would as willingly go away as you, if I knew whither. But\n      we have no acquaintance, no friends. Here we were born, and here\n      we must die.\n      John. Look you, Tom, the whole kingdom is my native country as\n      well as this town. You may as well say I must not go out of my\n      house if it is on fire as that I must not go out of the town I\n      was born in when it is infected with the plague. I was born in\n      England, and have a right to live in it if I can.\n      Thomas. But you know every vagrant person may by the laws of\n      England be taken up, and passed back to their last legal\n      settlement.\n      John. But how shall they make me vagrant? I desire only to travel\n      on, upon my lawful occasions.\n      Thomas. What lawful occasions can we pretend to travel, or rather\n      wander upon? They will not be put off with words.\n      John. Is not flying to save our lives a lawful occasion? And do\n      they not all know that the fact is true? We cannot be said to\n      dissemble.\n      Thomas. But suppose they let us pass, whither shall we go?\n      John. Anywhere, to save our lives; it is time enough to consider\n      that when we are got out of this town. If I am once out of this\n      dreadful place, I care not where I go.\n      Thomas. We shall be driven to great extremities. I know not what\n      to think of it.\n      John. Well, Tom, consider of it a little.\n      This was about the beginning of July; and though the plague was\n      come forward in the west and north parts of the town, yet all\n      Wapping, as I have observed before, and Redriff, and Ratdiff, and\n      Limehouse, and Poplar, in short, Deptford and Greenwich, all both\n      sides of the river from the Hermitage, and from over against it,\n      quite down to Blackwall, was entirely free; there had not one\n      person died of the plague in all Stepney parish, and not one on\n      the south side of Whitechappel Road, no, not in any parish; and\n      yet the weekly bill was that very week risen up to 1006.\n      It was a fortnight after this before the two brothers met again,\n      and then the case was a little altered, and the plague was\n      exceedingly advanced and the number greatly increased; the bill\n      was up at 2785, and prodigiously increasing, though still both\n      sides of the river, as below, kept pretty well. But some began to\n      die in Redriff, and about five or six in Ratcliff Highway, when\n      the sailmaker came to his brother John express, and in some\n      fright; for he was absolutely warned out of his lodging, and had\n      only a week to provide himself. His brother John was in as bad a\n      case, for he was quite out, and had only begged leave of his\n      master, the biscuit-maker, to lodge in an outhouse belonging to\n      his workhouse, where he only lay upon straw, with some\n      biscuit-sacks, or bread-sacks, as they called them, laid upon it,\n      and some of the same sacks to cover him.\n      Here they resolved (seeing all employment being at an end, and no\n      work or wages to be had), they would make the best of their way\n      to get out of the reach of the dreadful infection, and, being as\n      good husbands as they could, would endeavour to live upon what\n      they had as long as it would last, and then work for more if they\n      could get work anywhere, of any kind, let it be what it would.\n      While they were considering to put this resolution in practice in\n      the best manner they could, the third man, who was acquainted\n      very well with the sailmaker, came to know of the design, and got\n      leave to be one of the number; and thus they prepared to set out.\n      It happened that they had not an equal share of money; but as the\n      sailmaker, who had the best stock, was, besides his being lame,\n      the most unfit to expect to get anything by working in the\n      country, so he was content that what money they had should all go\n      into one public stock, on condition that whatever any one of them\n      could gain more than another, it should without any grudging be\n      all added to the public stock.\n      They resolved to load themselves with as little baggage as\n      possible because they resolved at first to travel on foot, and to\n      go a great way that they might, if possible, be effectually safe;\n      and a great many consultations they had with themselves before\n      they could agree about what way they should travel, which they\n      were so far from adjusting that even to the morning they set out\n      they were not resolved on it.\n      At last the seaman put in a hint that determined it. \u2018First,\u2019\n      says he, \u2018the weather is very hot, and therefore I am for\n      travelling north, that we may not have the sun upon our faces and\n      beating on our breasts, which will heat and suffocate us; and I\n      have been told\u2019, says he, \u2018that it is not good to overheat our\n      blood at a time when, for aught we know, the infection may be in\n      the very air. In the next place,\u2019 says he, \u2018I am for going the\n      way that may be contrary to the wind, as it may blow when we set\n      out, that we may not have the wind blow the air of the city on\n      our backs as we go.\u2019 These two cautions were approved of, if it\n      could be brought so to hit that the wind might not be in the\n      south when they set out to go north.\n      John the baker, who had been a soldier, then put in his opinion.\n      \u2018First,\u2019 says he, \u2018we none of us expect to get any lodging on the\n      road, and it will be a little too hard to lie just in the open\n      air. Though it be warm weather, yet it may be wet and damp, and\n      we have a double reason to take care of our healths at such a\n      time as this; and therefore,\u2019 says he, \u2018you, brother Tom, that\n      are a sailmaker, might easily make us a little tent, and I will\n      undertake to set it up every night, and take it down, and a fig\n      for all the inns in England; if we have a good tent over our\n      heads we shall do well enough.\u2019\n      The joiner opposed this, and told them, let them leave that to\n      him; he would undertake to build them a house every night with\n      his hatchet and mallet, though he had no other tools, which\n      should be fully to their satisfaction, and as good as a tent.\n      The soldier and the joiner disputed that point some time, but at\n      last the soldier carried it for a tent. The only objection\n      against it was, that it must be carried with them, and that would\n      increase their baggage too much, the weather being hot; but the\n      sailmaker had a piece of good hap, fell in which made that easy,\n      for his master whom he worked for, having a rope-walk as well as\n      sailmaking trade, had a little, poor horse that he made no use of\n      then; and being willing to assist the three honest men, he gave\n      them the horse for the carrying their baggage; also for a small\n      matter of three days\u2019 work that his man did for him before he\n      went, he let him have an old top-gallant sail that was worn out,\n      but was sufficient and more than enough to make a very good tent.\n      The soldier showed how to shape it, and they soon by his\n      direction made their tent, and fitted it with poles or staves for\n      the purpose; and thus they were furnished for their journey,\n      viz., three men, one tent, one horse, one gun\u2014for the soldier\n      would not go without arms, for now he said he was no more a\n      biscuit-baker, but a trooper.\n      The joiner had a small bag of tools such as might be useful if he\n      should get any work abroad, as well for their subsistence as his\n      own. What money they had they brought all into one public stock,\n      and thus they began their journey. It seems that in the morning\n      when they set out the wind blew, as the sailor said, by his\n      pocket-compass, at N.W. by W. So they directed, or rather\n      resolved to direct, their course N.W.\n      But then a difficulty came in their way, that, as they set out\n      from the hither end of Wapping, near the Hermitage, and that the\n      plague was now very violent, especially on the north side of the\n      city, as in Shoreditch and Cripplegate parish, they did not think\n      it safe for them to go near those parts; so they went away east\n      through Ratcliff Highway as far as Ratcliff Cross, and leaving\n      Stepney Church still on their left hand, being afraid to come up\n      from Ratcliff Cross to Mile End, because they must come just by\n      the churchyard, and because the wind, that seemed to blow more\n      from the west, blew directly from the side of the city where the\n      plague was hottest. So, I say, leaving Stepney they fetched a\n      long compass, and going to Poplar and Bromley, came into the\n      great road just at Bow.\n      Here the watch placed upon Bow Bridge would have questioned them,\n      but they, crossing the road into a narrow way that turns out of\n      the hither end of the town of Bow to Old Ford, avoided any\n      inquiry there, and travelled to Old Ford. The constables\n      everywhere were upon their guard not so much, it seems, to stop\n      people passing by as to stop them from taking up their abode in\n      their towns, and withal because of a report that was newly raised\n      at that time: and that, indeed, was not very improbable, viz.,\n      that the poor people in London, being distressed and starved for\n      want of work, and by that means for want of bread, were up in\n      arms and had raised a tumult, and that they would come out to all\n      the towns round to plunder for bread. This, I say, was only a\n      rumour, and it was very well it was no more. But it was not so\n      far off from being a reality as it has been thought, for in a few\n      weeks more the poor people became so desperate by the calamity\n      they suffered that they were with great difficulty kept from\n      going out into the fields and towns, and tearing all in pieces\n      wherever they came; and, as I have observed before, nothing\n      hindered them but that the plague raged so violently and fell in\n      upon them so furiously that they rather went to the grave by\n      thousands than into the fields in mobs by thousands; for, in the\n      parts about the parishes of St Sepulcher, Clarkenwell,\n      Cripplegate, Bishopsgate, and Shoreditch, which were the places\n      where the mob began to threaten, the distemper came on so\n      furiously that there died in those few parishes even then, before\n      the plague was come to its height, no less than 5361 people in\n      the first three weeks in August; when at the same time the parts\n      about Wapping, Radcliff, and Rotherhithe were, as before\n      described, hardly touched, or but very lightly; so that in a word\n      though, as I said before, the good management of the Lord Mayor\n      and justices did much to prevent the rage and desperation of the\n      people from breaking out in rabbles and tumults, and in short\n      from the poor plundering the rich,\u2014I say, though they did much,\n      the dead-carts did more: for as I have said that in five parishes\n      only there died above 5000 in twenty days, so there might be\n      probably three times that number sick all that time; for some\n      recovered, and great numbers fell sick every day and died\n      afterwards. Besides, I must still be allowed to say that if the\n      bills of mortality said five thousand, I always believed it was\n      near twice as many in reality, there being no room to believe\n      that the account they gave was right, or that indeed they were\n      among such confusions as I saw them in, in any condition to keep\n      an exact account.\n      But to return to my travellers. Here they were only examined, and\n      as they seemed rather coming from the country than from the city,\n      they found the people the easier with them; that they talked to\n      them, let them come into a public-house where the constable and\n      his warders were, and gave them drink and some victuals which\n      greatly refreshed and encouraged them; and here it came into\n      their heads to say, when they should be inquired of afterwards,\n      not that they came from London, but that they came out of Essex.\n      To forward this little fraud, they obtained so much favour of the\n      constable at Old Ford as to give them a certificate of their\n      passing from Essex through that village, and that they had not\n      been at London; which, though false in the common acceptance of\n      London in the county, yet was literally true, Wapping or Ratcliff\n      being no part either of the city or liberty.\n      This certificate directed to the next constable that was at\n      Homerton, one of the hamlets of the parish of Hackney, was so\n      serviceable to them that it procured them, not a free passage\n      there only, but a full certificate of health from a justice of\n      the peace, who upon the constable\u2019s application granted it\n      without much difficulty; and thus they passed through the long\n      divided town of Hackney (for it lay then in several separated\n      hamlets), and travelled on till they came into the great north\n      road on the top of Stamford Hill.\n      By this time they began to be weary, and so in the back-road from\n      Hackney, a little before it opened into the said great road, they\n      resolved to set up their tent and encamp for the first night,\n      which they did accordingly, with this addition, that finding a\n      barn, or a building like a barn, and first searching as well as\n      they could to be sure there was nobody in it, they set up their\n      tent, with the head of it against the barn. This they did also\n      because the wind blew that night very high, and they were but\n      young at such a way of lodging, as well as at the managing their\n      Here they went to sleep; but the joiner, a grave and sober man,\n      and not pleased with their lying at this loose rate the first\n      night, could not sleep, and resolved, after trying to sleep to no\n      purpose, that he would get out, and, taking the gun in his hand,\n      stand sentinel and guard his companions. So with the gun in his\n      hand, he walked to and again before the barn, for that stood in\n      the field near the road, but within the hedge. He had not been\n      long upon the scout but he heard a noise of people coming on, as\n      if it had been a great number, and they came on, as he thought,\n      directly towards the barn. He did not presently awake his\n      companions; but in a few minutes more, their noise growing louder\n      and louder, the biscuit-baker called to him and asked him what\n      was the matter, and quickly started out too. The other, being the\n      lame sailmaker and most weary, lay still in the tent.\n      As they expected, so the people whom they had heard came on\n      directly to the barn, when one of our travellers challenged, like\n      soldiers upon the guard, with \u2018Who comes there?\u2019 The people did\n      not answer immediately, but one of them speaking to another that\n      was behind him, \u2018Alas! alas! we are all disappointed,\u2019 says he.\n      \u2018Here are some people before us; the barn is taken up.\u2019\n      They all stopped upon that, as under some surprise, and it seems\n      there was about thirteen of them in all, and some women among\n      them. They consulted together what they should do, and by their\n      discourse our travellers soon found they were poor, distressed\n      people too, like themselves, seeking shelter and safety; and\n      besides, our travellers had no need to be afraid of their coming\n      up to disturb them, for as soon as they heard the words, \u2018Who\n      comes there?\u2019 these could hear the women say, as if frighted, \u2018Do\n      not go near them. How do you know but they may have the plague?\u2019\n      And when one of the men said, \u2018Let us but speak to them\u2019, the\n      women said, \u2018No, don\u2019t by any means. We have escaped thus far by\n      the goodness of God; do not let us run into danger now, we\n      beseech you.\u2019\n      Our travellers found by this that they were a good, sober sort of\n      people, and flying for their lives, as they were; and, as they\n      were encouraged by it, so John said to the joiner, his comrade,\n      \u2018Let us encourage them too as much as we can\u2019; so he called to\n      them, \u2018Hark ye, good people,\u2019 says the joiner, \u2018we find by your\n      talk that you are flying from the same dreadful enemy as we are.\n      Do not be afraid of us; we are only three poor men of us. If you\n      are free from the distemper you shall not be hurt by us. We are\n      not in the barn, but in a little tent here in the outside, and we\n      will remove for you; we can set up our tent again immediately\n      anywhere else\u2019; and upon this a parley began between the joiner,\n      whose name was Richard, and one of their men, who said his name\n      was Ford.\n      Ford. And do you assure us that you are all sound men?\n      Richard. Nay, we are concerned to tell you of it, that you may\n      not be uneasy or think yourselves in danger; but you see we do\n      not desire you should put yourselves into any danger, and\n      therefore I tell you that we have not made use of the barn, so we\n      will remove from it, that you may be safe and we also.\n      Ford. That is very kind and charitable; but if we have reason to\n      be satisfied that you are sound and free from the visitation, why\n      should we make you remove now you are settled in your lodging,\n      and, it may be, are laid down to rest? We will go into the barn,\n      if you please, to rest ourselves a while, and we need not disturb\n      Richard. Well, but you are more than we are. I hope you will\n      assure us that you are all of you sound too, for the danger is as\n      great from you to us as from us to you.\n      Ford. Blessed be God that some do escape, though it is but few;\n      what may be our portion still we know not, but hitherto we are\n      preserved.\n      Richard. What part of the town do you come from? Was the plague\n      come to the places where you lived?\n      Ford. Ay, ay, in a most frightful and terrible manner, or else we\n      had not fled away as we do; but we believe there will be very few\n      left alive behind us.\n      Richard. What part do you come from?\n      Ford. We are most of us of Cripplegate parish, only two or three\n      of Clerkenwell parish, but on the hither side.\n      Richard. How then was it that you came away no sooner?\n      Ford. We have been away some time, and kept together as well as\n      we could at the hither end of Islington, where we got leave to\n      lie in an old uninhabited house, and had some bedding and\n      conveniences of our own that we brought with us; but the plague\n      is come up into Islington too, and a house next door to our poor\n      dwelling was infected and shut up; and we are come away in a\n      fright.\n      Richard. And what way are you going?\n      Ford. As our lot shall cast us; we know not whither, but God will\n      guide those that look up to Him.\n      They parleyed no further at that time, but came all up to the\n      barn, and with some difficulty got into it. There was nothing but\n      hay in the barn, but it was almost full of that, and they\n      accommodated themselves as well as they could, and went to rest;\n      but our travellers observed that before they went to sleep an\n      ancient man who it seems was father of one of the women, went to\n      prayer with all the company, recommending themselves to the\n      blessing and direction of Providence, before they went to sleep.\n      It was soon day at that time of the year, and as Richard the\n      joiner had kept guard the first part of the night, so John the\n      soldier relieved him, and he had the post in the morning, and\n      they began to be acquainted with one another. It seems when they\n      left Islington they intended to have gone north, away to\n      Highgate, but were stopped at Holloway, and there they would not\n      let them pass; so they crossed over the fields and hills to the\n      eastward, and came out at the Boarded River, and so avoiding the\n      towns, they left Hornsey on the left hand and Newington on the\n      right hand, and came into the great road about Stamford Hill on\n      that side, as the three travellers had done on the other side.\n      And now they had thoughts of going over the river in the marshes,\n      and make forwards to Epping Forest, where they hoped they should\n      get leave to rest. It seems they were not poor, at least not so\n      poor as to be in want; at least they had enough to subsist them\n      moderately for two or three months, when, as they said, they were\n      in hopes the cold weather would check the infection, or at least\n      the violence of it would have spent itself, and would abate, if\n      it were only for want of people left alive to be infected.\n      This was much the fate of our three travellers, only that they\n      seemed to be the better furnished for travelling, and had it in\n      their view to go farther off; for as to the first, they did not\n      propose to go farther than one day\u2019s journey, that so they might\n      have intelligence every two or three days how things were at\n      London.\n      But here our travellers found themselves under an unexpected\n      inconvenience: namely that of their horse, for by means of the\n      horse to carry their baggage they were obliged to keep in the\n      road, whereas the people of this other band went over the fields\n      or roads, path or no path, way or no way, as they pleased;\n      neither had they any occasion to pass through any town, or come\n      near any town, other than to buy such things as they wanted for\n      their necessary subsistence, and in that indeed they were put to\n      much difficulty; of which in its place.\n      But our three travellers were obliged to keep the road, or else\n      they must commit spoil, and do the country a great deal of damage\n      in breaking down fences and gates to go over enclosed fields,\n      which they were loth to do if they could help it.\n      Our three travellers, however, had a great mind to join\n      themselves to this company and take their lot with them; and\n      after some discourse they laid aside their first design which\n      looked northward, and resolved to follow the other into Essex; so\n      in the morning they took up their tent and loaded their horse,\n      and away they travelled all together.\n      They had some difficulty in passing the ferry at the river-side,\n      the ferryman being afraid of them; but after some parley at a\n      distance, the ferryman was content to bring his boat to a place\n      distant from the usual ferry, and leave it there for them to take\n      it; so putting themselves over, he directed them to leave the\n      boat, and he, having another boat, said he would fetch it again,\n      which it seems, however, he did not do for above eight days.\n      Here, giving the ferryman money beforehand, they had a supply of\n      victuals and drink, which he brought and left in the boat for\n      them; but not without, as I said, having received the money\n      beforehand. But now our travellers were at a great loss and\n      difficulty how to get the horse over, the boat being small and\n      not fit for it: and at last could not do it without unloading the\n      baggage and making him swim over.\n      From the river they travelled towards the forest, but when they\n      came to Walthamstow the people of that town denied to admit them,\n      as was the case everywhere. The constables and their watchmen\n      kept them off at a distance and parleyed with them. They gave the\n      same account of themselves as before, but these gave no credit to\n      what they said, giving it for a reason that two or three\n      companies had already come that way and made the like pretences,\n      but that they had given several people the distemper in the towns\n      where they had passed; and had been afterwards so hardly used by\n      the country (though with justice, too, as they had deserved) that\n      about Brentwood, or that way, several of them perished in the\n      fields\u2014whether of the plague or of mere want and distress they\n      could not tell.\n      This was a good reason indeed why the people of Walthamstow\n      should be very cautious, and why they should resolve not to\n      entertain anybody that they were not well satisfied of. But, as\n      Richard the joiner and one of the other men who parleyed with\n      them told them, it was no reason why they should block up the\n      roads and refuse to let people pass through the town, and who\n      asked nothing of them but to go through the street; that if their\n      people were afraid of them, they might go into their houses and\n      shut their doors; they would neither show them civility nor\n      incivility, but go on about their business.\n      The constables and attendants, not to be persuaded by reason,\n      continued obstinate, and would hearken to nothing; so the two men\n      that talked with them went back to their fellows to consult what\n      was to be done. It was very discouraging in the whole, and they\n      knew not what to do for a good while; but at last John the\n      soldier and biscuit-maker, considering a while, \u2018Come,\u2019 says he,\n      \u2018leave the rest of the parley to me.\u2019 He had not appeared yet, so\n      he sets the joiner, Richard, to work to cut some poles out of the\n      trees and shape them as like guns as he could, and in a little\n      time he had five or six fair muskets, which at a distance would\n      not be known; and about the part where the lock of a gun is he\n      caused them to wrap cloth and rags such as they had, as soldiers\n      do in wet weather to preserve the locks of their pieces from\n      rust; the rest was discoloured with clay or mud, such as they\n      could get; and all this while the rest of them sat under the\n      trees by his direction, in two or three bodies, where they made\n      fires at a good distance from one another.\n      While this was doing he advanced himself and two or three with\n      him, and set up their tent in the lane within sight of the\n      barrier which the town\u2019s men had made, and set a sentinel just by\n      it with the real gun, the only one they had, and who walked to\n      and fro with the gun on his shoulder, so as that the people of\n      the town might see them. Also, he tied the horse to a gate in the\n      hedge just by, and got some dry sticks together and kindled a\n      fire on the other side of the tent, so that the people of the\n      town could see the fire and the smoke, but could not see what\n      they were doing at it.\n      After the country people had looked upon them very earnestly a\n      great while, and, by all that they could see, could not but\n      suppose that they were a great many in company, they began to be\n      uneasy, not for their going away, but for staying where they\n      were; and above all, perceiving they had horses and arms, for\n      they had seen one horse and one gun at the tent, and they had\n      seen others of them walk about the field on the inside of the\n      hedge by the side of the lane with their muskets, as they took\n      them to be, shouldered; I say, upon such a sight as this, you may\n      be assured they were alarmed and terribly frighted, and it seems\n      they went to a justice of the peace to know what they should do.\n      What the justice advised them to I know not, but towards the\n      evening they called from the barrier, as above, to the sentinel\n      at the tent.\n      \u2018What do you want?\u2019 says John.[1]\n      [1] It seems John was in the tent, but hearing them call, he\n      steps out, and taking the gun upon his shoulder, talked to them\n      as if he had been the sentinel placed there upon the guard by\n      some officer that was his superior. [Footnote in the original.]\n      \u2018Why, what do you intend to do?\u2019 says the constable. \u2018To do,\u2019\n      says John; \u2018what would you have us to do?\u2019 Constable. Why don\u2019t\n      you be gone? What do you stay there for?\n      John. Why do you stop us on the king\u2019s highway, and pretend to\n      refuse us leave to go on our way?\n      Constable. We are not bound to tell you our reason, though we did\n      let you know it was because of the plague.\n      John. We told you we were all sound and free from the plague,\n      which we were not bound to have satisfied you of, and yet you\n      pretend to stop us on the highway.\n      Constable. We have a right to stop it up, and our own safety\n      obliges us to it. Besides, this is not the king\u2019s highway; \u2019tis a\n      way upon sufferance. You see here is a gate, and if we do let\n      people pass here, we make them pay toll.\n      John. We have a right to seek our own safety as well as you, and\n      you may see we are flying for our lives: and \u2019tis very\n      unchristian and unjust to stop us.\n      Constable. You may go back from whence you came; we do not hinder\n      you from that.\n      John. No; it is a stronger enemy than you that keeps us from\n      doing that, or else we should not have come hither.\n      Constable. Well, you may go any other way, then.\n      John. No, no; I suppose you see we are able to send you going,\n      and all the people of your parish, and come through your town\n      when we will; but since you have stopped us here, we are content.\n      You see we have encamped here, and here we will live. We hope you\n      will furnish us with victuals.\n      Constable. We furnish you! What mean you by that?\n      John. Why, you would not have us starve, would you? If you stop\n      us here, you must keep us.\n      Constable. You will be ill kept at our maintenance.\n      John. If you stint us, we shall make ourselves the better\n      allowance.\n      Constable. Why, you will not pretend to quarter upon us by force,\n      will you?\n      John. We have offered no violence to you yet. Why do you seem to\n      oblige us to it? I am an old soldier, and cannot starve, and if\n      you think that we shall be obliged to go back for want of\n      provisions, you are mistaken.\n      Constable. Since you threaten us, we shall take care to be strong\n      enough for you. I have orders to raise the county upon you.\n      John. It is you that threaten, not we. And since you are for\n      mischief, you cannot blame us if we do not give you time for it;\n      we shall begin our march in a few minutes.[2]\n       [2] This frighted the constable and the people that were with\n       him, that they immediately changed their note.\n      Constable. What is it you demand of us?\n      John. At first we desired nothing of you but leave to go through\n      the town; we should have offered no injury to any of you, neither\n      would you have had any injury or loss by us. We are not thieves,\n      but poor people in distress, and flying from the dreadful plague\n      in London, which devours thousands every week. We wonder how you\n      could be so unmerciful!\n      Constable. Self-preservation obliges us.\n      John. What! To shut up your compassion in a case of such distress\n      as this?\n      Constable. Well, if you will pass over the fields on your left\n      hand, and behind that part of the town, I will endeavour to have\n      gates opened for you.\n      John. Our horsemen[3] cannot pass with our baggage that way; it\n      does not lead into the road that we want to go, and why should\n      you force us out of the road? Besides, you have kept us here all\n      day without any provisions but such as we brought with us. I\n      think you ought to send us some provisions for our relief.\n       [3] They had but one horse among them. [Footnotes in the\n       original.]\n      Constable. If you will go another way we will send you some\n      provisions.\n      John. That is the way to have all the towns in the county stop up\n      the ways against us.\n      Constable. If they all furnish you with food, what will you be\n      the worse? I see you have tents; you want no lodging.\n      John. Well, what quantity of provisions will you send us?\n      Constable. How many are you?\n      John. Nay, we do not ask enough for all our company; we are in\n      three companies. If you will send us bread for twenty men and\n      about six or seven women for three days, and show us the way over\n      the field you speak of, we desire not to put your people into any\n      fear for us; we will go out of our way to oblige you, though we\n      are as free from infection as you are.[4]\n       [4] Here he called to one of his men, and bade him order Captain\n       Richard and his people to march the lower way on the side of the\n       marches, and meet them in the forest; which was all a sham, for\n       they had no Captain Richard, or any such company. [Footnote in\n       the original.]\n      Constable. And will you assure us that your other people shall\n      offer us no new disturbance?\n      John. No, no you may depend on it.\n      Constable. You must oblige yourself, too, that none of your\n      people shall come a step nearer than where the provisions we send\n      you shall be set down.\n      John. I answer for it we will not.\n      Accordingly they sent to the place twenty loaves of bread and\n      three or four large pieces of good beef, and opened some gates,\n      through which they passed; but none of them had courage so much\n      as to look out to see them go, and, as it was evening, if they\n      had looked they could not have seen them as to know how few they\n      This was John the soldier\u2019s management. But this gave such an\n      alarm to the county, that had they really been two or three\n      hundred the whole county would have been raised upon them, and\n      they would have been sent to prison, or perhaps knocked on the\n      They were soon made sensible of this, for two days afterwards\n      they found several parties of horsemen and footmen also about, in\n      pursuit of three companies of men, armed, as they said, with\n      muskets, who were broke out from London and had the plague upon\n      them, and that were not only spreading the distemper among the\n      people, but plundering the country.\n      As they saw now the consequence of their case, they soon saw the\n      danger they were in; so they resolved by the advice also of the\n      old soldier to divide themselves again. John and his two\n      comrades, with the horse, went away, as if towards Waltham; the\n      other in two companies, but all a little asunder, and went\n      towards Epping.\n      The first night they encamped all in the forest, and not far off\n      of one another, but not setting up the tent, lest that should\n      discover them. On the other hand, Richard went to work with his\n      axe and his hatchet, and cutting down branches of trees, he built\n      three tents or hovels, in which they all encamped with as much\n      convenience as they could expect.\n      The provisions they had at Walthamstow served them very\n      plentifully this night; and as for the next, they left it to\n      Providence. They had fared so well with the old soldier\u2019s conduct\n      that they now willingly made him their leader, and the first of\n      his conduct appeared to be very good. He told them that they were\n      now at a proper distance enough from London; that as they need\n      not be immediately beholden to the country for relief, so they\n      ought to be as careful the country did not infect them as that\n      they did not infect the country; that what little money they had,\n      they must be as frugal of as they could; that as he would not\n      have them think of offering the country any violence, so they\n      must endeavour to make the sense of their condition go as far\n      with the country as it could. They all referred themselves to his\n      direction, so they left their three houses standing, and the next\n      day went away towards Epping. The captain also (for so they now\n      called him), and his two fellow-travellers, laid aside their\n      design of going to Waltham, and all went together.\n      When they came near Epping they halted, choosing out a proper\n      place in the open forest, not very near the highway, but not far\n      out of it on the north side, under a little cluster of low\n      pollard-trees. Here they pitched their little camp\u2014which\n      consisted of three large tents or huts made of poles which their\n      carpenter, and such as were his assistants, cut down and fixed in\n      the ground in a circle, binding all the small ends together at\n      the top and thickening the sides with boughs of trees and bushes,\n      so that they were completely close and warm. They had, besides\n      this, a little tent where the women lay by themselves, and a hut\n      to put the horse in.\n      It happened that the next day, or next but one, was market-day at\n      Epping, when Captain John and one of the other men went to market\n      and bought some provisions; that is to say, bread, and some\n      mutton and beef; and two of the women went separately, as if they\n      had not belonged to the rest, and bought more. John took the\n      horse to bring it home, and the sack which the carpenter carried\n      his tools in, to put it in. The carpenter went to work and made\n      them benches and stools to sit on, such as the wood he could get\n      would afford, and a kind of table to dine on.\n      They were taken no notice of for two or three days, but after\n      that abundance of people ran out of the town to look at them, and\n      all the country was alarmed about them. The people at first\n      seemed afraid to come near them; and, on the other hand, they\n      desired the people to keep off, for there was a rumour that the\n      plague was at Waltham, and that it had been in Epping two or\n      three days; so John called out to them not to come to them,\n      \u2018for,\u2019 says he, \u2018we are all whole and sound people here, and we\n      would not have you bring the plague among us, nor pretend we\n      brought it among you.\u2019\n      After this the parish officers came up to them and parleyed with\n      them at a distance, and desired to know who they were, and by\n      what authority they pretended to fix their stand at that place.\n      John answered very frankly, they were poor distressed people from\n      London who, foreseeing the misery they should be reduced to if\n      plague spread into the city, had fled out in time for their\n      lives, and, having no acquaintance or relations to fly to, had\n      first taken up at Islington; but, the plague being come into that\n      town, were fled farther; and as they supposed that the people of\n      Epping might have refused them coming into their town, they had\n      pitched their tents thus in the open field and in the forest,\n      being willing to bear all the hardships of such a disconsolate\n      lodging rather than have any one think or be afraid that they\n      should receive injury by them.\n      At first the Epping people talked roughly to them, and told them\n      they must remove; that this was no place for them; and that they\n      pretended to be sound and well, but that they might be infected\n      with the plague for aught they knew, and might infect the whole\n      country, and they could not suffer them there.\n      John argued very calmly with them a great while, and told them\n      that London was the place by which they\u2014that is, the townsmen of\n      Epping and all the country round them\u2014subsisted; to whom they\n      sold the produce of their lands, and out of whom they made their\n      rent of their farms; and to be so cruel to the inhabitants of\n      London, or to any of those by whom they gained so much, was very\n      hard, and they would be loth to have it remembered hereafter, and\n      have it told how barbarous, how inhospitable, and how unkind they\n      were to the people of London when they fled from the face of the\n      most terrible enemy in the world; that it would be enough to make\n      the name of an Epping man hateful through all the city, and to\n      have the rabble stone them in the very streets whenever they came\n      so much as to market; that they were not yet secure from being\n      visited themselves, and that, as he heard, Waltham was already;\n      that they would think it very hard that when any of them fled for\n      fear before they were touched, they should be denied the liberty\n      of lying so much as in the open fields.\n      The Epping men told them again, that they, indeed, said they were\n      sound and free from the infection, but that they had no assurance\n      of it; and that it was reported that there had been a great\n      rabble of people at Walthamstow, who made such pretences of being\n      sound as they did, but that they threatened to plunder the town\n      and force their way, whether the parish officers would or no;\n      that there were near two hundred of them, and had arms and tents\n      like Low Country soldiers; that they extorted provisions from the\n      town, by threatening them with living upon them at free quarter,\n      showing their arms, and talking in the language of soldiers; and\n      that several of them being gone away toward Rumford and\n      Brentwood, the country had been infected by them, and the plague\n      spread into both those large towns, so that the people durst not\n      go to market there as usual; that it was very likely they were\n      some of that party; and if so, they deserved to be sent to the\n      county jail, and be secured till they had made satisfaction for\n      the damage they had done, and for the terror and fright they had\n      put the country into.\n      John answered that what other people had done was nothing to\n      them; that they assured them they were all of one company; that\n      they had never been more in number than they saw them at that\n      time (which, by the way, was very true); that they came out in\n      two separate companies, but joined by the way, their cases being\n      the same; that they were ready to give what account of themselves\n      anybody could desire of them, and to give in their names and\n      places of abode, that so they might be called to an account for\n      any disorder that they might be guilty of; that the townsmen\n      might see they were content to live hardly, and only desired a\n      little room to breathe in on the forest where it was wholesome;\n      for where it was not they could not stay, and would decamp if\n      they found it otherwise there.\n      \u2018But,\u2019 said the townsmen, \u2018we have a great charge of poor upon\n      our hands already, and we must take care not to increase it; we\n      suppose you can give us no security against your being chargeable\n      to our parish and to the inhabitants, any more than you can of\n      being dangerous to us as to the infection.\u2019\n      \u2018Why, look you,\u2019 says John, \u2018as to being chargeable to you, we\n      hope we shall not. If you will relieve us with provisions for our\n      present necessity, we will be very thankful; as we all lived\n      without charity when we were at home, so we will oblige ourselves\n      fully to repay you, if God pleases to bring us back to our own\n      families and houses in safety, and to restore health to the\n      people of London.\n      \u2018As to our dying here: we assure you, if any of us die, we that\n      survive will bury them, and put you to no expense, except it\n      should be that we should all die; and then, indeed, the last man\n      not being able to bury himself, would put you to that single\n      expense which I am persuaded\u2019, says John, \u2018he would leave enough\n      behind him to pay you for the expense of.\n      \u2018On the other hand,\u2019 says John, \u2018if you shut up all bowels of\n      compassion, and not relieve us at all, we shall not extort\n      anything by violence or steal from any one; but when what little\n      we have is spent, if we perish for want, God\u2019s will be done.\u2019\n      John wrought so upon the townsmen, by talking thus rationally and\n      smoothly to them, that they went away; and though they did not\n      give any consent to their staying there, yet they did not molest\n      them; and the poor people continued there three or four days\n      longer without any disturbance. In this time they had got some\n      remote acquaintance with a victualling-house at the outskirts of\n      the town, to whom they called at a distance to bring some little\n      things that they wanted, and which they caused to be set down at\n      a distance, and always paid for very honestly.\n      During this time the younger people of the town came frequently\n      pretty near them, and would stand and look at them, and sometimes\n      talk with them at some space between; and particularly it was\n      observed that the first Sabbath-day the poor people kept retired,\n      worshipped God together, and were heard to sing psalms.\n      These things, and a quiet, inoffensive behaviour, began to get\n      them the good opinion of the country, and people began to pity\n      them and speak very well of them; the consequence of which was,\n      that upon the occasion of a very wet, rainy night, a certain\n      gentleman who lived in the neighbourhood sent them a little cart\n      with twelve trusses or bundles of straw, as well for them to\n      lodge upon as to cover and thatch their huts and to keep them\n      dry. The minister of a parish not far off, not knowing of the\n      other, sent them also about two bushels of wheat and half a\n      bushel of white peas.\n      They were very thankful, to be sure, for this relief, and\n      particularly the straw was a very great comfort to them; for\n      though the ingenious carpenter had made frames for them to lie in\n      like troughs, and filled them with leaves of trees, and such\n      things as they could get, and had cut all their tent-cloth out to\n      make them coverlids, yet they lay damp and hard and unwholesome\n      till this straw came, which was to them like feather-beds, and,\n      as John said, more welcome than feather-beds would have been at\n      another time.\n      This gentleman and the minister having thus begun, and given an\n      example of charity to these wanderers, others quickly followed,\n      and they received every day some benevolence or other from the\n      people, but chiefly from the gentlemen who dwelt in the country\n      round them. Some sent them chairs, stools, tables, and such\n      household things as they gave notice they wanted; some sent them\n      blankets, rugs, and coverlids, some earthenware, and some kitchen\n      ware for ordering their food.\n      Encouraged by this good usage, their carpenter in a few days\n      built them a large shed or house with rafters, and a roof in\n      form, and an upper floor, in which they lodged warm: for the\n      weather began to be damp and cold in the beginning of September.\n      But this house, being well thatched, and the sides and roof made\n      very thick, kept out the cold well enough. He made, also, an\n      earthen wall at one end with a chimney in it, and another of the\n      company, with a vast deal of trouble and pains, made a funnel to\n      the chimney to carry out the smoke.\n      Here they lived comfortably, though coarsely, till the beginning\n      of September, when they had the bad news to hear, whether true or\n      not, that the plague, which was very hot at Waltham Abbey on one\n      side and at Rumford and Brentwood on the other side, was also\n      coming to Epping, to Woodford, and to most of the towns upon the\n      Forest, and which, as they said, was brought down among them\n      chiefly by the higglers, and such people as went to and from\n      London with provisions.\n      If this was true, it was an evident contradiction to that report\n      which was afterwards spread all over England, but which, as I\n      have said, I cannot confirm of my own knowledge: namely, that the\n      market-people carrying provisions to the city never got the\n      infection or carried it back into the country; both which, I have\n      been assured, has been false.\n      It might be that they were preserved even beyond expectation,\n      though not to a miracle, that abundance went and came and were\n      not touched; and that was much for the encouragement of the poor\n      people of London, who had been completely miserable if the people\n      that brought provisions to the markets had not been many times\n      wonderfully preserved, or at least more preserved than could be\n      reasonably expected.\n      But now these new inmates began to be disturbed more effectually,\n      for the towns about them were really infected, and they began to\n      be afraid to trust one another so much as to go abroad for such\n      things as they wanted, and this pinched them very hard, for now\n      they had little or nothing but what the charitable gentlemen of\n      the country supplied them with. But, for their encouragement, it\n      happened that other gentlemen in the country who had not sent\n      them anything before, began to hear of them and supply them, and\n      one sent them a large pig\u2014that is to say, a porker\u2014another two\n      sheep, and another sent them a calf. In short, they had meat\n      enough, and sometimes had cheese and milk, and all such things.\n      They were chiefly put to it for bread, for when the gentlemen\n      sent them corn they had nowhere to bake it or to grind it. This\n      made them eat the first two bushel of wheat that was sent them in\n      parched corn, as the Israelites of old did, without grinding or\n      making bread of it.\n      At last they found means to carry their corn to a windmill near\n      Woodford, where they had it ground, and afterwards the\n      biscuit-maker made a hearth so hollow and dry that he could bake\n      biscuit-cakes tolerably well; and thus they came into a condition\n      to live without any assistance or supplies from the towns; and it\n      was well they did, for the country was soon after fully infected,\n      and about 120 were said to have died of the distemper in the\n      villages near them, which was a terrible thing to them.\n      On this they called a new council, and now the towns had no need\n      to be afraid they should settle near them; but, on the contrary,\n      several families of the poorer sort of the inhabitants quitted\n      their houses and built huts in the forest after the same manner\n      as they had done. But it was observed that several of these poor\n      people that had so removed had the sickness even in their huts or\n      booths; the reason of which was plain, namely, not because they\n      removed into the air, but, (1) because they did not remove time\n      enough; that is to say, not till, by openly conversing with the\n      other people their neighbours, they had the distemper upon them,\n      or (as may be said) among them, and so carried it about them\n      whither they went. Or (2) because they were not careful enough,\n      after they were safely removed out of the towns, not to come in\n      again and mingle with the diseased people.\n      But be it which of these it will, when our travellers began to\n      perceive that the plague was not only in the towns, but even in\n      the tents and huts on the forest near them, they began then not\n      only to be afraid, but to think of decamping and removing; for\n      had they stayed they would have been in manifest danger of their\n      lives.\n      It is not to be wondered that they were greatly afflicted at\n      being obliged to quit the place where they had been so kindly\n      received, and where they had been treated with so much humanity\n      and charity; but necessity and the hazard of life, which they\n      came out so far to preserve, prevailed with them, and they saw no\n      remedy. John, however, thought of a remedy for their present\n      misfortune: namely, that he would first acquaint that gentleman\n      who was their principal benefactor with the distress they were\n      in, and to crave his assistance and advice.\n      The good, charitable gentleman encouraged them to quit the Place\n      for fear they should be cut off from any retreat at all by the\n      violence of the distemper; but whither they should go, that he\n      found very hard to direct them to. At last John asked of him\n      whether he, being a justice of the peace, would give them\n      certificates of health to other justices whom they might come\n      before; that so whatever might be their lot, they might not be\n      repulsed now they had been also so long from London. This his\n      worship immediately granted, and gave them proper letters of\n      health, and from thence they were at liberty to travel whither\n      they pleased.\n      Accordingly they had a full certificate of health, intimating\n      that they had resided in a village in the county of Essex so long\n      that, being examined and scrutinised sufficiently, and having\n      been retired from all conversation for above forty days, without\n      any appearance of sickness, they were therefore certainly\n      concluded to be sound men, and might be safely entertained\n      anywhere, having at last removed rather for fear of the plague\n      which was come into such a town, rather than for having any\n      signal of infection upon them, or upon any belonging to them.\n      With this certificate they removed, though with great reluctance;\n      and John inclining not to go far from home, they moved towards\n      the marshes on the side of Waltham. But here they found a man\n      who, it seems, kept a weir or stop upon the river, made to raise\n      the water for the barges which go up and down the river, and he\n      terrified them with dismal stories of the sickness having been\n      spread into all the towns on the river and near the river, on the\n      side of Middlesex and Hertfordshire; that is to say, into\n      Waltham, Waltham Cross, Enfield, and Ware, and all the towns on\n      the road, that they were afraid to go that way; though it seems\n      the man imposed upon them, for that the thing was not really\n      However, it terrified them, and they resolved to move across the\n      forest towards Rumford and Brentwood; but they heard that there\n      were numbers of people fled out of London that way, who lay up\n      and down in the forest called Henalt Forest, reaching near\n      Rumford, and who, having no subsistence or habitation, not only\n      lived oddly and suffered great extremities in the woods and\n      fields for want of relief, but were said to be made so desperate\n      by those extremities as that they offered many violences to the\n      county, robbed and plundered, and killed cattle, and the like;\n      that others, building huts and hovels by the roadside, begged,\n      and that with an importunity next door to demanding relief; so\n      that the county was very uneasy, and had been obliged to take\n      some of them up.\n      This in the first place intimated to them, that they would be\n      sure to find the charity and kindness of the county, which they\n      had found here where they were before, hardened and shut up\n      against them; and that, on the other hand, they would be\n      questioned wherever they came, and would be in danger of violence\n      from others in like cases as themselves.\n      Upon all these considerations John, their captain, in all their\n      names, went back to their good friend and benefactor, who had\n      relieved them before, and laying their case truly before him,\n      humbly asked his advice; and he as kindly advised them to take up\n      their old quarters again, or if not, to remove but a little\n      farther out of the road, and directed them to a proper place for\n      them; and as they really wanted some house rather than huts to\n      shelter them at that time of the year, it growing on towards\n      Michaelmas, they found an old decayed house which had been\n      formerly some cottage or little habitation but was so out of\n      repair as scarce habitable; and by the consent of a farmer to\n      whose farm it belonged, they got leave to make what use of it\n      they could.\n      The ingenious joiner, and all the rest, by his directions went to\n      work with it, and in a very few days made it capable to shelter\n      them all in case of bad weather; and in which there was an old\n      chimney and old oven, though both lying in ruins; yet they made\n      them both fit for use, and, raising additions, sheds, and leantos\n      on every side, they soon made the house capable to hold them all.\n      They chiefly wanted boards to make window-shutters, floors,\n      doors, and several other things; but as the gentlemen above\n      favoured them, and the country was by that means made easy with\n      them, and above all, that they were known to be all sound and in\n      good health, everybody helped them with what they could spare.\n      Here they encamped for good and all, and resolved to remove no\n      more. They saw plainly how terribly alarmed that county was\n      everywhere at anybody that came from London, and that they should\n      have no admittance anywhere but with the utmost difficulty; at\n      least no friendly reception and assistance as they had received\n      Now, although they received great assistance and encouragement\n      from the country gentlemen and from the people round about them,\n      yet they were put to great straits: for the weather grew cold and\n      wet in October and November, and they had not been used to so\n      much hardship; so that they got colds in their limbs, and\n      distempers, but never had the infection; and thus about December\n      they came home to the city again.\n      I give this story thus at large, principally to give an account\n      what became of the great numbers of people which immediately\n      appeared in the city as soon as the sickness abated; for, as I\n      have said, great numbers of those that were able and had retreats\n      in the country fled to those retreats. So, when it was increased\n      to such a frightful extremity as I have related, the middling\n      people who had not friends fled to all parts of the country where\n      they could get shelter, as well those that had money to relieve\n      themselves as those that had not. Those that had money always\n      fled farthest, because they were able to subsist themselves; but\n      those who were empty suffered, as I have said, great hardships,\n      and were often driven by necessity to relieve their wants at the\n      expense of the country. By that means the country was made very\n      uneasy at them, and sometimes took them up; though even then they\n      scarce knew what to do with them, and were always very backward\n      to punish them, but often, too, they forced them from place to\n      place till they were obliged to come back again to London.\n      I have, since my knowing this story of John and his brother,\n      inquired and found that there were a great many of the poor\n      disconsolate people, as above, fled into the country every way;\n      and some of them got little sheds and barns and outhouses to live\n      in, where they could obtain so much kindness of the country, and\n      especially where they had any the least satisfactory account to\n      give of themselves, and particularly that they did not come out\n      of London too late. But others, and that in great numbers, built\n      themselves little huts and retreats in the fields and woods, and\n      lived like hermits in holes and caves, or any place they could\n      find, and where, we may be sure, they suffered great extremities,\n      such that many of them were obliged to come back again whatever\n      the danger was; and so those little huts were often found empty,\n      and the country people supposed the inhabitants lay dead in them\n      of the plague, and would not go near them for fear\u2014no, not in a\n      great while; nor is it unlikely but that some of the unhappy\n      wanderers might die so all alone, even sometimes for want of\n      help, as particularly in one tent or hut was found a man dead,\n      and on the gate of a field just by was cut with his knife in\n      uneven letters the following words, by which it may be supposed\n      the other man escaped, or that, one dying first, the other buried\n      him as well as he could:\u2014\n     O mIsErY!\n     We BoTH ShaLL DyE,\n     WoE, WoE.\n      I have given an account already of what I found to have been the\n      case down the river among the seafaring men; how the ships lay in\n      the offing, as it\u2019s called, in rows or lines astern of one\n      another, quite down from the Pool as far as I could see. I have\n      been told that they lay in the same manner quite down the river\n      as low as Gravesend, and some far beyond: even everywhere or in\n      every place where they could ride with safety as to wind and\n      weather; nor did I ever hear that the plague reached to any of\n      the people on board those ships\u2014except such as lay up in the\n      Pool, or as high as Deptford Reach, although the people went\n      frequently on shore to the country towns and villages and\n      farmers\u2019 houses, to buy fresh provisions, fowls, pigs, calves,\n      and the like for their supply.\n      Likewise I found that the watermen on the river above the bridge\n      found means to convey themselves away up the river as far as they\n      could go, and that they had, many of them, their whole families\n      in their boats, covered with tilts and bales, as they call them,\n      and furnished with straw within for their lodging, and that they\n      lay thus all along by the shore in the marshes, some of them\n      setting up little tents with their sails, and so lying under them\n      on shore in the day, and going into their boats at night; and in\n      this manner, as I have heard, the river-sides were lined with\n      boats and people as long as they had anything to subsist on, or\n      could get anything of the country; and indeed the country people,\n      as well Gentlemen as others, on these and all other occasions,\n      were very forward to relieve them\u2014but they were by no means\n      willing to receive them into their towns and houses, and for that\n      we cannot blame them.\n      There was one unhappy citizen within my knowledge who had been\n      visited in a dreadful manner, so that his wife and all his\n      children were dead, and himself and two servants only left, with\n      an elderly woman, a near relation, who had nursed those that were\n      dead as well as she could. This disconsolate man goes to a\n      village near the town, though not within the bills of mortality,\n      and finding an empty house there, inquires out the owner, and\n      took the house. After a few days he got a cart and loaded it with\n      goods, and carries them down to the house; the people of the\n      village opposed his driving the cart along; but with some\n      arguings and some force, the men that drove the cart along got\n      through the street up to the door of the house. There the\n      constable resisted them again, and would not let them be brought\n      in. The man caused the goods to be unloaden and laid at the door,\n      and sent the cart away; upon which they carried the man before a\n      justice of peace; that is to say, they commanded him to go, which\n      he did. The justice ordered him to cause the cart to fetch away\n      the goods again, which he refused to do; upon which the justice\n      ordered the constable to pursue the carters and fetch them back,\n      and make them reload the goods and carry them away, or to set\n      them in the stocks till they came for further orders; and if they\n      could not find them, nor the man would not consent to take them\n      away, they should cause them to be drawn with hooks from the\n      house-door and burned in the street. The poor distressed man upon\n      this fetched the goods again, but with grievous cries and\n      lamentations at the hardship of his case. But there was no\n      remedy; self-preservation obliged the people to those severities\n      which they would not otherwise have been concerned in. Whether\n      this poor man lived or died I cannot tell, but it was reported\n      that he had the plague upon him at that time; and perhaps the\n      people might report that to justify their usage of him; but it\n      was not unlikely that either he or his goods, or both, were\n      dangerous, when his whole family had been dead of the distempers\n      so little a while before.\n      I know that the inhabitants of the towns adjacent to London were\n      much blamed for cruelty to the poor people that ran from the\n      contagion in their distress, and many very severe things were\n      done, as may be seen from what has been said; but I cannot but\n      say also that, where there was room for charity and assistance to\n      the people, without apparent danger to themselves, they were\n      willing enough to help and relieve them. But as every town were\n      indeed judges in their own case, so the poor people who ran\n      abroad in their extremities were often ill-used and driven back\n      again into the town; and this caused infinite exclamations and\n      outcries against the country towns, and made the clamour very\n      popular.\n      And yet, more or less, (with) all the caution, there was not a\n      town of any note within ten (or, I believe, twenty) miles of the\n      city but what was more or less infected and had some died among\n      them. I have heard the accounts of several, such as they were\n      reckoned up, as follows:\u2014\n     \u201d  Barking Abbot    200\n      Another thing might render the country more strict with respect\n      to the citizens, and especially with respect to the poor, and\n      this was what I hinted at before: namely, that there was a\n      seeming propensity or a wicked inclination in those that were\n      infected to infect others.\n      There have been great debates among our physicians as to the\n      reason of this. Some will have it to be in the nature of the\n      disease, and that it impresses every one that is seized upon by\n      it with a kind of a rage, and a hatred against their own kind\u2014as\n      if there was a malignity not only in the distemper to communicate\n      itself, but in the very nature of man, prompting him with evil\n      will or an evil eye, that, as they say in the case of a mad dog,\n      who though the gentlest creature before of any of his kind, yet\n      then will fly upon and bite any one that comes next him, and\n      those as soon as any who had been most observed by him before.\n      Others placed it to the account of the corruption of human\n      nature, who cannot bear to see itself more miserable than others\n      of its own species, and has a kind of involuntary wish that all\n      men were as unhappy or in as bad a condition as itself.\n      Others say it was only a kind of desperation, not knowing or\n      regarding what they did, and consequently unconcerned at the\n      danger or safety not only of anybody near them, but even of\n      themselves also. And indeed, when men are once come to a\n      condition to abandon themselves, and be unconcerned for the\n      safety or at the danger of themselves, it cannot be so much\n      wondered that they should be careless of the safety of other\n      people.\n      But I choose to give this grave debate a quite different turn,\n      and answer it or resolve it all by saying that I do not grant the\n      fact. On the contrary, I say that the thing is not really so, but\n      that it was a general complaint raised by the people inhabiting\n      the outlying villages against the citizens to justify, or at\n      least excuse, those hardships and severities so much talked of,\n      and in which complaints both sides may be said to have injured\n      one another; that is to say, the citizens pressing to be received\n      and harboured in time of distress, and with the plague upon them,\n      complain of the cruelty and injustice of the country people in\n      being refused entrance and forced back again with their goods and\n      families; and the inhabitants, finding themselves so imposed\n      upon, and the citizens breaking in as it were upon them whether\n      they would or no, complain that when they were infected they were\n      not only regardless of others, but even willing to infect them;\n      neither of which were really true\u2014that is to say, in the colours\n      they were described in.\n      It is true there is something to be said for the frequent alarms\n      which were given to the country of the resolution of the people\n      of London to come out by force, not only for relief, but to\n      plunder and rob; that they ran about the streets with the\n      distemper upon them without any control; and that no care was\n      taken to shut up houses, and confine the sick people from\n      infecting others; whereas, to do the Londoners justice, they\n      never practised such things, except in such particular cases as I\n      have mentioned above, and such like. On the other hand,\n      everything was managed with so much care, and such excellent\n      order was observed in the whole city and suburbs by the care of\n      the Lord Mayor and aldermen and by the justices of the peace,\n      church-wardens, &c., in the outparts, that London may be a\n      pattern to all the cities in the world for the good government\n      and the excellent order that was everywhere kept, even in the\n      time of the most violent infection, and when the people were in\n      the utmost consternation and distress. But of this I shall speak\n      by itself.\n      One thing, it is to be observed, was owing principally to the\n      prudence of the magistrates, and ought to be mentioned to their\n      honour: viz., the moderation which they used in the great and\n      difficult work of shutting up of houses. It is true, as I have\n      mentioned, that the shutting up of houses was a great subject of\n      discontent, and I may say indeed the only subject of discontent\n      among the people at that time; for the confining the sound in the\n      same house with the sick was counted very terrible, and the\n      complaints of people so confined were very grievous. They were\n      heard into the very streets, and they were sometimes such that\n      called for resentment, though oftener for compassion. They had no\n      way to converse with any of their friends but out at their\n      windows, where they would make such piteous lamentations as often\n      moved the hearts of those they talked with, and of others who,\n      passing by, heard their story; and as those complaints oftentimes\n      reproached the severity, and sometimes the insolence, of the\n      watchmen placed at their doors, those watchmen would answer\n      saucily enough, and perhaps be apt to affront the people who were\n      in the street talking to the said families; for which, or for\n      their ill-treatment of the families, I think seven or eight of\n      them in several places were killed; I know not whether I should\n      say murdered or not, because I cannot enter into the particular\n      cases. It is true the watchmen were on their duty, and acting in\n      the post where they were placed by a lawful authority; and\n      killing any public legal officer in the execution of his office\n      is always, in the language of the law, called murder. But as they\n      were not authorised by the magistrates\u2019 instructions, or by the\n      power they acted under, to be injurious or abusive either to the\n      people who were under their observation or to any that concerned\n      themselves for them; so when they did so, they might be said to\n      act themselves, not their office; to act as private persons, not\n      as persons employed; and consequently, if they brought mischief\n      upon themselves by such an undue behaviour, that mischief was\n      upon their own heads; and indeed they had so much the hearty\n      curses of the people, whether they deserved it or not, that\n      whatever befell them nobody pitied them, and everybody was apt to\n      say they deserved it, whatever it was. Nor do I remember that\n      anybody was ever punished, at least to any considerable degree,\n      for whatever was done to the watchmen that guarded their houses.\n      What variety of stratagems were used to escape and get out of\n      houses thus shut up, by which the watchmen were deceived or\n      overpowered, and that the people got away, I have taken notice of\n      already, and shall say no more to that. But I say the magistrates\n      did moderate and ease families upon many occasions in this case,\n      and particularly in that of taking away, or suffering to be\n      removed, the sick persons out of such houses when they were\n      willing to be removed either to a pest-house or other Places; and\n      sometimes giving the well persons in the family so shut up, leave\n      to remove upon information given that they were well, and that\n      they would confine themselves in such houses where they went so\n      long as should be required of them. The concern, also, of the\n      magistrates for the supplying such poor families as were\n      infected\u2014I say, supplying them with necessaries, as well physic\n      as food\u2014was very great, and in which they did not content\n      themselves with giving the necessary orders to the officers\n      appointed, but the aldermen in person, and on horseback,\n      frequently rode to such houses and caused the people to be asked\n      at their windows whether they were duly attended or not; also,\n      whether they wanted anything that was necessary, and if the\n      officers had constantly carried their messages and fetched them\n      such things as they wanted or not. And if they answered in the\n      affirmative, all was well; but if they complained that they were\n      ill supplied, and that the officer did not do his duty, or did\n      not treat them civilly, they (the officers) were generally\n      removed, and others placed in their stead.\n      It is true such complaint might be unjust, and if the officer had\n      such arguments to use as would convince the magistrate that he\n      was right, and that the people had injured him, he was continued\n      and they reproved. But this part could not well bear a particular\n      inquiry, for the parties could very ill be well heard and\n      answered in the street from the windows, as was the case then.\n      The magistrates, therefore, generally chose to favour the people\n      and remove the man, as what seemed to be the least wrong and of\n      the least ill consequence; seeing if the watchman was injured,\n      yet they could easily make him amends by giving him another post\n      of the like nature; but if the family was injured, there was no\n      satisfaction could be made to them, the damage perhaps being\n      irreparable, as it concerned their lives.\n      A great variety of these cases frequently happened between the\n      watchmen and the poor people shut up, besides those I formerly\n      mentioned about escaping. Sometimes the watchmen were absent,\n      sometimes drunk, sometimes asleep when the people wanted them,\n      and such never failed to be punished severely, as indeed they\n      deserved.\n      But after all that was or could be done in these cases, the\n      shutting up of houses, so as to confine those that were well with\n      those that were sick, had very great inconveniences in it, and\n      some that were very tragical, and which merited to have been\n      considered if there had been room for it. But it was authorised\n      by a law, it had the public good in view as the end chiefly aimed\n      at, and all the private injuries that were done by the putting it\n      in execution must be put to the account of the public benefit.\n      It is doubtful to this day whether, in the whole, it contributed\n      anything to the stop of the infection; and indeed I cannot say it\n      did, for nothing could run with greater fury and rage than the\n      infection did when it was in its chief violence, though the\n      houses infected were shut up as exactly and as effectually as it\n      was possible. Certain it is that if all the infected persons were\n      effectually shut in, no sound person could have been infected by\n      them, because they could not have come near them. But the case\n      was this (and I shall only touch it here): namely, that the\n      infection was propagated insensibly, and by such persons as were\n      not visibly infected, who neither knew whom they infected or who\n      they were infected by.\n      A house in Whitechappel was shut up for the sake of one infected\n      maid, who had only spots, not the tokens come out upon her, and\n      recovered; yet these people obtained no liberty to stir, neither\n      for air or exercise, forty days. Want of breath, fear, anger,\n      vexation, and all the other gifts attending such an injurious\n      treatment cast the mistress of the family into a fever, and\n      visitors came into the house and said it was the plague, though\n      the physicians declared it was not. However, the family were\n      obliged to begin their quarantine anew on the report of the\n      visitors or examiner, though their former quarantine wanted but a\n      few days of being finished. This oppressed them so with anger and\n      grief, and, as before, straitened them also so much as to room,\n      and for want of breathing and free air, that most of the family\n      fell sick, one of one distemper, one of another, chiefly\n      scorbutic ailments; only one, a violent colic; till, after\n      several prolongings of their confinement, some or other of those\n      that came in with the visitors to inspect the persons that were\n      ill, in hopes of releasing them, brought the distemper with them\n      and infected the whole house; and all or most of them died, not\n      of the plague as really upon them before, but of the plague that\n      those people brought them, who should have been careful to have\n      protected them from it. And this was a thing which frequently\n      happened, and was indeed one of the worst consequences of\n      shutting houses up.\n      I had about this time a little hardship put upon me, which I was\n      at first greatly afflicted at, and very much disturbed about\n      though, as it proved, it did not expose me to any disaster; and\n      this was being appointed by the alderman of Portsoken Ward one of\n      the examiners of the houses in the precinct where I lived. We had\n      a large parish, and had no less than eighteen examiners, as the\n      order called us; the people called us visitors. I endeavoured\n      with all my might to be excused from such an employment, and used\n      many arguments with the alderman\u2019s deputy to be excused;\n      particularly I alleged that I was against shutting up houses at\n      all, and that it would be very hard to oblige me to be an\n      instrument in that which was against my judgement, and which I\n      did verily believe would not answer the end it was intended for;\n      but all the abatement I could get was only, that whereas the\n      officer was appointed by my Lord Mayor to continue two months, I\n      should be obliged to hold it but three weeks, on condition\n      nevertheless that I could then get some other sufficient\n      housekeeper to serve the rest of the time for me\u2014which was, in\n      short, but a very small favour, it being very difficult to get\n      any man to accept of such an employment, that was fit to be\n      entrusted with it.\n      It is true that shutting up of houses had one effect, which I am\n      sensible was of moment, namely, it confined the distempered\n      people, who would otherwise have been both very troublesome and\n      very dangerous in their running about streets with the distemper\n      upon them\u2014which, when they were delirious, they would have done\n      in a most frightful manner, and as indeed they began to do at\n      first very much, till they were thus restrained; nay, so very\n      open they were that the poor would go about and beg at people\u2019s\n      doors, and say they had the plague upon them, and beg rags for\n      their sores, or both, or anything that delirious nature happened\n      to think of.\n      A poor, unhappy gentlewoman, a substantial citizen\u2019s wife, was\n      (if the story be true) murdered by one of these creatures in\n      Aldersgate Street, or that way. He was going along the street,\n      raving mad to be sure, and singing; the people only said he was\n      drunk, but he himself said he had the plague upon him, which it\n      seems was true; and meeting this gentlewoman, he would kiss her.\n      She was terribly frighted, as he was only a rude fellow, and she\n      ran from him, but the street being very thin of people, there was\n      nobody near enough to help her. When she saw he would overtake\n      her, she turned and gave him a thrust so forcibly, he being but\n      weak, and pushed him down backward. But very unhappily, she being\n      so near, he caught hold of her and pulled her down also, and\n      getting up first, mastered her and kissed her; and which was\n      worst of all, when he had done, told her he had the plague, and\n      why should not she have it as well as he? She was frighted enough\n      before, being also young with child; but when she heard him say\n      he had the plague, she screamed out and fell down into a swoon,\n      or in a fit, which, though she recovered a little, yet killed her\n      in a very few days; and I never heard whether she had the plague\n      Another infected person came and knocked at the door of a\n      citizen\u2019s house where they knew him very well; the servant let\n      him in, and being told the master of the house was above, he ran\n      up and came into the room to them as the whole family was at\n      supper. They began to rise up, a little surprised, not knowing\n      what the matter was; but he bid them sit still, he only came to\n      take his leave of them. They asked him, \u2018Why, Mr\u2014, where are you\n      going?\u2019 \u2018Going,\u2019 says he; \u2018I have got the sickness, and shall die\n      tomorrow night.\u2019 \u2019Tis easy to believe, though not to describe,\n      the consternation they were all in. The women and the man\u2019s\n      daughters, which were but little girls, were frighted almost to\n      death and got up, one running out at one door and one at another,\n      some downstairs and some upstairs, and getting together as well\n      as they could, locked themselves into their chambers and screamed\n      out at the window for help, as if they had been frighted out of\n      their wits. The master, more composed than they, though both\n      frighted and provoked, was going to lay hands on him and throw\n      him downstairs, being in a passion; but then, considering a\n      little the condition of the man and the danger of touching him,\n      horror seized his mind, and he stood still like one astonished.\n      The poor distempered man all this while, being as well diseased\n      in his brain as in his body, stood still like one amazed. At\n      length he turns round: \u2018Ay!\u2019 says he, with all the seeming\n      calmness imaginable, \u2018is it so with you all? Are you all\n      disturbed at me? Why, then I\u2019ll e\u2019en go home and die there.\u2019 And\n      so he goes immediately downstairs. The servant that had let him\n      in goes down after him with a candle, but was afraid to go past\n      him and open the door, so he stood on the stairs to see what he\n      would do. The man went and opened the door, and went out and\n      flung the door after him. It was some while before the family\n      recovered the fright, but as no ill consequence attended, they\n      have had occasion since to speak of it (You may be sure) with\n      great satisfaction. Though the man was gone, it was some\n      time\u2014nay, as I heard, some days before they recovered themselves\n      of the hurry they were in; nor did they go up and down the house\n      with any assurance till they had burnt a great variety of fumes\n      and perfumes in all the rooms, and made a great many smokes of\n      pitch, of gunpowder, and of sulphur, all separately shifted, and\n      washed their clothes, and the like. As to the poor man, whether\n      he lived or died I don\u2019t remember.\n      It is most certain that, if by the shutting up of houses the sick\n      had not been confined, multitudes who in the height of their\n      fever were delirious and distracted would have been continually\n      running up and down the streets; and even as it was a very great\n      number did so, and offered all sorts of violence to those they\n      met, even just as a mad dog runs on and bites at every one he\n      meets; nor can I doubt but that, should one of those infected,\n      diseased creatures have bitten any man or woman while the frenzy\n      of the distemper was upon them, they, I mean the person so\n      wounded, would as certainly have been incurably infected as one\n      that was sick before, and had the tokens upon him.\n      I heard of one infected creature who, running out of his bed in\n      his shirt in the anguish and agony of his swellings, of which he\n      had three upon him, got his shoes on and went to put on his coat;\n      but the nurse resisting, and snatching the coat from him, he\n      threw her down, ran over her, ran downstairs and into the street,\n      directly to the Thames in his shirt; the nurse running after him,\n      and calling to the watch to stop him; but the watchman, frighted\n      at the man, and afraid to touch him, let him go on; upon which he\n      ran down to the Stillyard stairs, threw away his shirt, and\n      plunged into the Thames, and, being a good swimmer, swam quite\n      over the river; and the tide being coming in, as they call it\n      (that is, running westward) he reached the land not till he came\n      about the Falcon stairs, where landing, and finding no people\n      there, it being in the night, he ran about the streets there,\n      naked as he was, for a good while, when, it being by that time\n      high water, he takes the river again, and swam back to the\n      Stillyard, landed, ran up the streets again to his own house,\n      knocking at the door, went up the stairs and into his bed again;\n      and that this terrible experiment cured him of the plague, that\n      is to say, that the violent motion of his arms and legs stretched\n      the parts where the swellings he had upon him were, that is to\n      say, under his arms and his groin, and caused them to ripen and\n      break; and that the cold of the water abated the fever in his\n      blood.\n      I have only to add that I do not relate this any more than some\n      of the other, as a fact within my own knowledge, so as that I can\n      vouch the truth of them, and especially that of the man being\n      cured by the extravagant adventure, which I confess I do not\n      think very possible; but it may serve to confirm the many\n      desperate things which the distressed people falling into\n      deliriums, and what we call light-headedness, were frequently run\n      upon at that time, and how infinitely more such there would have\n      been if such people had not been confined by the shutting up of\n      houses; and this I take to be the best, if not the only good\n      thing which was performed by that severe method.\n      On the other hand, the complaints and the murmurings were very\n      bitter against the thing itself. It would pierce the hearts of\n      all that came by to hear the piteous cries of those infected\n      people, who, being thus out of their understandings by the\n      violence of their pain or the heat of their blood, were either\n      shut in or perhaps tied in their beds and chairs, to prevent\n      their doing themselves hurt\u2014and who would make a dreadful outcry\n      at their being confined, and at their being not permitted to die\n      at large, as they called it, and as they would have done before.\n      This running of distempered people about the streets was very\n      dismal, and the magistrates did their utmost to prevent it; but\n      as it was generally in the night and always sudden when such\n      attempts were made, the officers could not be at hand to prevent\n      it; and even when any got out in the day, the officers appointed\n      did not care to meddle with them, because, as they were all\n      grievously infected, to be sure, when they were come to that\n      height, so they were more than ordinarily infectious, and it was\n      one of the most dangerous things that could be to touch them. On\n      the other hand, they generally ran on, not knowing what they did,\n      till they dropped down stark dead, or till they had exhausted\n      their spirits so as that they would fall and then die in perhaps\n      half-an-hour or an hour; and, which was most piteous to hear,\n      they were sure to come to themselves entirely in that half-hour\n      or hour, and then to make most grievous and piercing cries and\n      lamentations in the deep, afflicting sense of the condition they\n      were in. This was much of it before the order for shutting up of\n      houses was strictly put in execution, for at first the watchmen\n      were not so vigorous and severe as they were afterward in the\n      keeping the people in; that is to say, before they were (I mean\n      some of them) severely punished for their neglect, failing in\n      their duty, and letting people who were under their care slip\n      away, or conniving at their going abroad, whether sick or well.\n      But after they saw the officers appointed to examine into their\n      conduct were resolved to have them do their duty or be punished\n      for the omission, they were more exact, and the people were\n      strictly restrained; which was a thing they took so ill and bore\n      so impatiently that their discontents can hardly be described.\n      But there was an absolute necessity for it, that must be\n      confessed, unless some other measures had been timely entered\n      upon, and it was too late for that.\n      Had not this particular (of the sick being restrained as above)\n      been our case at that time, London would have been the most\n      dreadful place that ever was in the world; there would, for aught\n      I know, have as many people died in the streets as died in their\n      houses; for when the distemper was at its height it generally\n      made them raving and delirious, and when they were so they would\n      never be persuaded to keep in their beds but by force; and many\n      who were not tied threw themselves out of windows when they found\n      they could not get leave to go out of their doors.\n      It was for want of people conversing one with another, in this\n      time of calamity, that it was impossible any particular person\n      could come at the knowledge of all the extraordinary cases that\n      occurred in different families; and particularly I believe it was\n      never known to this day how many people in their deliriums\n      drowned themselves in the Thames, and in the river which runs\n      from the marshes by Hackney, which we generally called Ware\n      River, or Hackney River. As to those which were set down in the\n      weekly bill, they were indeed few; nor could it be known of any\n      of those whether they drowned themselves by accident or not. But\n      I believe I might reckon up more who within the compass of my\n      knowledge or observation really drowned themselves in that year,\n      than are put down in the bill of all put together: for many of\n      the bodies were never found who yet were known to be lost; and\n      the like in other methods of self-destruction. There was also one\n      man in or about Whitecross Street burned himself to death in his\n      bed; some said it was done by himself, others that it was by the\n      treachery of the nurse that attended him; but that he had the\n      plague upon him was agreed by all.\n      It was a merciful disposition of Providence also, and which I\n      have many times thought of at that time, that no fires, or no\n      considerable ones at least, happened in the city during that\n      year, which, if it had been otherwise, would have been very\n      dreadful; and either the people must have let them alone\n      unquenched, or have come together in great crowds and throngs,\n      unconcerned at the danger of the infection, not concerned at the\n      houses they went into, at the goods they handled, or at the\n      persons or the people they came among. But so it was, that\n      excepting that in Cripplegate parish, and two or three little\n      eruptions of fires, which were presently extinguished, there was\n      no disaster of that kind happened in the whole year. They told us\n      a story of a house in a place called Swan Alley, passing from\n      Goswell Street, near the end of Old Street, into St John Street,\n      that a family was infected there in so terrible a manner that\n      every one of the house died. The last person lay dead on the\n      floor, and, as it is supposed, had lain herself all along to die\n      just before the fire; the fire, it seems, had fallen from its\n      place, being of wood, and had taken hold of the boards and the\n      joists they lay on, and burnt as far as just to the body, but had\n      not taken hold of the dead body (though she had little more than\n      her shift on) and had gone out of itself, not burning the rest of\n      the house, though it was a slight timber house. How true this\n      might be I do not determine, but the city being to suffer\n      severely the next year by fire, this year it felt very little of\n      that calamity.\n      Indeed, considering the deliriums which the agony threw people\n      into, and how I have mentioned in their madness, when they were\n      alone, they did many desperate things, it was very strange there\n      were no more disasters of that kind.\n      It has been frequently asked me, and I cannot say that I ever\n      knew how to give a direct answer to it, how it came to pass that\n      so many infected people appeared abroad in the streets at the\n      same time that the houses which were infected were so vigilantly\n      searched, and all of them shut up and guarded as they were.\n      I confess I know not what answer to give to this, unless it be\n      this: that in so great and populous a city as this is it was\n      impossible to discover every house that was infected as soon as\n      it was so, or to shut up all the houses that were infected; so\n      that people had the liberty of going about the streets, even\n      where they pleased, unless they were known to belong to\n      such-and-such infected houses.\n      It is true that, as several physicians told my Lord Mayor, the\n      fury of the contagion was such at some particular times, and\n      people sickened so fast and died so soon, that it was impossible,\n      and indeed to no purpose, to go about to inquire who was sick and\n      who was well, or to shut them up with such exactness as the thing\n      required, almost every house in a whole street being infected,\n      and in many places every person in some of the houses; and that\n      which was still worse, by the time that the houses were known to\n      be infected, most of the persons infected would be stone dead,\n      and the rest run away for fear of being shut up; so that it was\n      to very small purpose to call them infected houses and shut them\n      up, the infection having ravaged and taken its leave of the house\n      before it was really known that the family was any way touched.\n      This might be sufficient to convince any reasonable person that\n      as it was not in the power of the magistrates or of any human\n      methods of policy, to prevent the spreading the infection, so\n      that this way of shutting up of houses was perfectly insufficient\n      for that end. Indeed it seemed to have no manner of public good\n      in it, equal or proportionable to the grievous burden that it was\n      to the particular families that were so shut up; and, as far as I\n      was employed by the public in directing that severity, I\n      frequently found occasion to see that it was incapable of\n      answering the end. For example, as I was desired, as a visitor or\n      examiner, to inquire into the particulars of several families\n      which were infected, we scarce came to any house where the plague\n      had visibly appeared in the family but that some of the family\n      were fled and gone. The magistrates would resent this, and charge\n      the examiners with being remiss in their examination or\n      inspection. But by that means houses were long infected before it\n      was known. Now, as I was in this dangerous office but half the\n      appointed time, which was two months, it was long enough to\n      inform myself that we were no way capable of coming at the\n      knowledge of the true state of any family but by inquiring at the\n      door or of the neighbours. As for going into every house to\n      search, that was a part no authority would offer to impose on the\n      inhabitants, or any citizen would undertake: for it would have\n      been exposing us to certain infection and death, and to the ruin\n      of our own families as well as of ourselves; nor would any\n      citizen of probity, and that could be depended upon, have stayed\n      in the town if they had been made liable to such a severity.\n      Seeing then that we could come at the certainty of things by no\n      method but that of inquiry of the neighbours or of the family,\n      and on that we could not justly depend, it was not possible but\n      that the uncertainty of this matter would remain as above.\n      It is true masters of families were bound by the order to give\n      notice to the examiner of the place wherein he lived, within two\n      hours after he should discover it, of any person being sick in\n      his house (that is to say, having signs of the infection)\u2014but\n      they found so many ways to evade this and excuse their negligence\n      that they seldom gave that notice till they had taken measures to\n      have every one escape out of the house who had a mind to escape,\n      whether they were sick or sound; and while this was so, it is\n      easy to see that the shutting up of houses was no way to be\n      depended upon as a sufficient method for putting a stop to the\n      infection because, as I have said elsewhere, many of those that\n      so went out of those infected houses had the plague really upon\n      them, though they might really think themselves sound. And some\n      of these were the people that walked the streets till they fell\n      down dead, not that they were suddenly struck with the distemper\n      as with a bullet that killed with the stroke, but that they\n      really had the infection in their blood long before; only, that\n      as it preyed secretly on the vitals, it appeared not till it\n      seized the heart with a mortal power, and the patient died in a\n      moment, as with a sudden fainting or an apoplectic fit.\n      I know that some even of our physicians thought for a time that\n      those people that so died in the streets were seized but that\n      moment they fell, as if they had been touched by a stroke from\n      heaven as men are killed by a flash of lightning\u2014but they found\n      reason to alter their opinion afterward; for upon examining the\n      bodies of such after they were dead, they always either had\n      tokens upon them or other evident proofs of the distemper having\n      been longer upon them than they had otherwise expected.\n      This often was the reason that, as I have said, we that were\n      examiners were not able to come at the knowledge of the infection\n      being entered into a house till it was too late to shut it up,\n      and sometimes not till the people that were left were all dead.\n      In Petticoat Lane two houses together were infected, and several\n      people sick; but the distemper was so well concealed, the\n      examiner, who was my neighbour, got no knowledge of it till\n      notice was sent him that the people were all dead, and that the\n      carts should call there to fetch them away. The two heads of the\n      families concerted their measures, and so ordered their matters\n      as that when the examiner was in the neighbourhood they appeared\n      generally at a time, and answered, that is, lied, for one\n      another, or got some of the neighbourhood to say they were all in\n      health\u2014and perhaps knew no better\u2014till, death making it\n      impossible to keep it any longer as a secret, the dead-carts were\n      called in the night to both the houses, and so it became public.\n      But when the examiner ordered the constable to shut up the houses\n      there was nobody left in them but three people, two in one house\n      and one in the other, just dying, and a nurse in each house who\n      acknowledged that they had buried five before, that the houses\n      had been infected nine or ten days, and that for all the rest of\n      the two families, which were many, they were gone, some sick,\n      some well, or whether sick or well could not be known.\n      In like manner, at another house in the same lane, a man having\n      his family infected but very unwilling to be shut up, when he\n      could conceal it no longer, shut up himself; that is to say, he\n      set the great red cross upon his door with the words, \u2018Lord have\n      mercy upon us\u2019, and so deluded the examiner, who supposed it had\n      been done by the constable by order of the other examiner, for\n      there were two examiners to every district or precinct. By this\n      means he had free egress and regress into his house again and out\n      of it, as he pleased, notwithstanding it was infected, till at\n      length his stratagem was found out; and then he, with the sound\n      part of his servants and family, made off and escaped, so they\n      were not shut up at all.\n      These things made it very hard, if not impossible, as I have\n      said, to prevent the spreading of an infection by the shutting up\n      of houses\u2014unless the people would think the shutting of their\n      houses no grievance, and be so willing to have it done as that\n      they would give notice duly and faithfully to the magistrates of\n      their being infected as soon as it was known by themselves; but\n      as that cannot be expected from them, and the examiners cannot be\n      supposed, as above, to go into their houses to visit and search,\n      all the good of shutting up houses will be defeated, and few\n      houses will be shut up in time, except those of the poor, who\n      cannot conceal it, and of some people who will be discovered by\n      the terror and consternation which the things put them into.\n      I got myself discharged of the dangerous office I was in as soon\n      as I could get another admitted, whom I had obtained for a little\n      money to accept of it; and so, instead of serving the two months,\n      which was directed, I was not above three weeks in it; and a\n      great while too, considering it was in the month of August, at\n      which time the distemper began to rage with great violence at our\n      end of the town.\n      In the execution of this office I could not refrain speaking my\n      opinion among my neighbours as to this shutting up the people in\n      their houses; in which we saw most evidently the severities that\n      were used, though grievous in themselves, had also this\n      particular objection against them: namely, that they did not\n      answer the end, as I have said, but that the distempered people\n      went day by day about the streets; and it was our united opinion\n      that a method to have removed the sound from the sick, in case of\n      a particular house being visited, would have been much more\n      reasonable on many accounts, leaving nobody with the sick persons\n      but such as should on such occasion request to stay and declare\n      themselves content to be shut up with them.\n      Our scheme for removing those that were sound from those that\n      were sick was only in such houses as were infected, and confining\n      the sick was no confinement; those that could not stir would not\n      complain while they were in their senses and while they had the\n      power of judging. Indeed, when they came to be delirious and\n      light-headed, then they would cry out of the cruelty of being\n      confined; but for the removal of those that were well, we thought\n      it highly reasonable and just, for their own sakes, they should\n      be removed from the sick, and that for other people\u2019s safety they\n      should keep retired for a while, to see that they were sound, and\n      might not infect others; and we thought twenty or thirty days\n      enough for this.\n      Now, certainly, if houses had been provided on purpose for those\n      that were sound to perform this demi-quarantine in, they would\n      have much less reason to think themselves injured in such a\n      restraint than in being confined with infected people in the\n      houses where they lived.\n      It is here, however, to be observed that after the funerals\n      became so many that people could not toll the bell, mourn or\n      weep, or wear black for one another, as they did before; no, nor\n      so much as make coffins for those that died; so after a while the\n      fury of the infection appeared to be so increased that, in short,\n      they shut up no houses at all. It seemed enough that all the\n      remedies of that kind had been used till they were found\n      fruitless, and that the plague spread itself with an irresistible\n      fury; so that as the fire the succeeding year spread itself, and\n      burned with such violence that the citizens, in despair, gave\n      over their endeavours to extinguish it, so in the plague it came\n      at last to such violence that the people sat still looking at one\n      another, and seemed quite abandoned to despair; whole streets\n      seemed to be desolated, and not to be shut up only, but to be\n      emptied of their inhabitants; doors were left open, windows stood\n      shattering with the wind in empty houses for want of people to\n      shut them. In a word, people began to give up themselves to their\n      fears and to think that all regulations and methods were in vain,\n      and that there was nothing to be hoped for but an universal\n      desolation; and it was even in the height of this general despair\n      that it Pleased God to stay His hand, and to slacken the fury of\n      the contagion in such a manner as was even surprising, like its\n      beginning, and demonstrated it to be His own particular hand, and\n      that above, if not without the agency of means, as I shall take\n      notice of in its proper place.\n      But I must still speak of the plague as in its height, raging\n      even to desolation, and the people under the most dreadful\n      consternation, even, as I have said, to despair. It is hardly\n      credible to what excess the passions of men carried them in this\n      extremity of the distemper, and this part, I think, was as moving\n      as the rest. What could affect a man in his full power of\n      reflection, and what could make deeper impressions on the soul,\n      than to see a man almost naked, and got out of his house, or\n      perhaps out of his bed, into the street, come out of Harrow\n      Alley, a populous conjunction or collection of alleys, courts,\n      and passages in the Butcher Row in Whitechappel,\u2014I say, what\n      could be more affecting than to see this poor man come out into\n      the open street, run dancing and singing and making a thousand\n      antic gestures, with five or six women and children running after\n      him, crying and calling upon him for the Lord\u2019s sake to come\n      back, and entreating the help of others to bring him back, but\n      all in vain, nobody daring to lay a hand upon him or to come near\n      This was a most grievous and afflicting thing to me, who saw it\n      all from my own windows; for all this while the poor afflicted\n      man was, as I observed it, even then in the utmost agony of pain,\n      having (as they said) two swellings upon him which could not be\n      brought to break or to suppurate; but, by laying strong caustics\n      on them, the surgeons had, it seems, hopes to break them\u2014which\n      caustics were then upon him, burning his flesh as with a hot\n      iron. I cannot say what became of this poor man, but I think he\n      continued roving about in that manner till he fell down and died.\n      No wonder the aspect of the city itself was frightful. The usual\n      concourse of people in the streets, and which used to be supplied\n      from our end of the town, was abated. The Exchange was not kept\n      shut, indeed, but it was no more frequented. The fires were lost;\n      they had been almost extinguished for some days by a very smart\n      and hasty rain. But that was not all; some of the physicians\n      insisted that they were not only no benefit, but injurious to the\n      health of people. This they made a loud clamour about, and\n      complained to the Lord Mayor about it. On the other hand, others\n      of the same faculty, and eminent too, opposed them, and gave\n      their reasons why the fires were, and must be, useful to assuage\n      the violence of the distemper. I cannot give a full account of\n      their arguments on both sides; only this I remember, that they\n      cavilled very much with one another. Some were for fires, but\n      that they must be made of wood and not coal, and of particular\n      sorts of wood too, such as fir in particular, or cedar, because\n      of the strong effluvia of turpentine; others were for coal and\n      not wood, because of the sulphur and bitumen; and others were for\n      neither one or other. Upon the whole, the Lord Mayor ordered no\n      more fires, and especially on this account, namely, that the\n      plague was so fierce that they saw evidently it defied all means,\n      and rather seemed to increase than decrease upon any application\n      to check and abate it; and yet this amazement of the magistrates\n      proceeded rather from want of being able to apply any means\n      successfully than from any unwillingness either to expose\n      themselves or undertake the care and weight of business; for, to\n      do them justice, they neither spared their pains nor their\n      persons. But nothing answered; the infection raged, and the\n      people were now frighted and terrified to the last degree: so\n      that, as I may say, they gave themselves up, and, as I mentioned\n      above, abandoned themselves to their despair.\n      But let me observe here that, when I say the people abandoned\n      themselves to despair, I do not mean to what men call a religious\n      despair, or a despair of their eternal state, but I mean a\n      despair of their being able to escape the infection or to outlive\n      the plague which they saw was so raging and so irresistible in\n      its force that indeed few people that were touched with it in its\n      height, about August and September, escaped; and, which is very\n      particular, contrary to its ordinary operation in June and July,\n      and the beginning of August, when, as I have observed, many were\n      infected, and continued so many days, and then went off after\n      having had the poison in their blood a long time; but now, on the\n      contrary, most of the people who were taken during the two last\n      weeks in August and in the three first weeks in September,\n      generally died in two or three days at furthest, and many the\n      very same day they were taken; whether the dog-days, or, as our\n      astrologers pretended to express themselves, the influence of the\n      dog-star, had that malignant effect, or all those who had the\n      seeds of infection before in them brought it up to a maturity at\n      that time altogether, I know not; but this was the time when it\n      was reported that above 3000 people died in one night; and they\n      that would have us believe they more critically observed it\n      pretend to say that they all died within the space of two hours,\n      viz., between the hours of one and three in the morning.\n      As to the suddenness of people\u2019s dying at this time, more than\n      before, there were innumerable instances of it, and I could name\n      several in my neighbourhood. One family without the Bars, and not\n      far from me, were all seemingly well on the Monday, being ten in\n      family. That evening one maid and one apprentice were taken ill\n      and died the next morning\u2014when the other apprentice and two\n      children were touched, whereof one died the same evening, and the\n      other two on Wednesday. In a word, by Saturday at noon the\n      master, mistress, four children, and four servants were all gone,\n      and the house left entirely empty, except an ancient woman who\n      came in to take charge of the goods for the master of the\n      family\u2019s brother, who lived not far off, and who had not been\n      Many houses were then left desolate, all the people being carried\n      away dead, and especially in an alley farther on the same side\n      beyond the Bars, going in at the sign of Moses and Aaron, there\n      were several houses together which, they said, had not one person\n      left alive in them; and some that died last in several of those\n      houses were left a little too long before they were fetched out\n      to be buried; the reason of which was not, as some have written\n      very untruly, that the living were not sufficient to bury the\n      dead, but that the mortality was so great in the yard or alley\n      that there was nobody left to give notice to the buriers or\n      sextons that there were any dead bodies there to be buried. It\n      was said, how true I know not, that some of those bodies were so\n      much corrupted and so rotten that it was with difficulty they\n      were carried; and as the carts could not come any nearer than to\n      the Alley Gate in the High Street, it was so much the more\n      difficult to bring them along; but I am not certain how many\n      bodies were then left. I am sure that ordinarily it was not so.\n      As I have mentioned how the people were brought into a condition\n      to despair of life and abandon themselves, so this very thing had\n      a strange effect among us for three or four weeks; that is, it\n      made them bold and venturous: they were no more shy of one\n      another, or restrained within doors, but went anywhere and\n      everywhere, and began to converse. One would say to another, \u2018I\n      do not ask you how you are, or say how I am; it is certain we\n      shall all go; so \u2019tis no matter who is all sick or who is sound\u2019;\n      and so they ran desperately into any place or any company.\n      As it brought the people into public company, so it was\n      surprising how it brought them to crowd into the churches. They\n      inquired no more into whom they sat near to or far from, what\n      offensive smells they met with, or what condition the people\n      seemed to be in; but, looking upon themselves all as so many dead\n      corpses, they came to the churches without the least caution, and\n      crowded together as if their lives were of no consequence\n      compared to the work which they came about there. Indeed, the\n      zeal which they showed in coming, and the earnestness and\n      affection they showed in their attention to what they heard, made\n      it manifest what a value people would all put upon the worship of\n      God if they thought every day they attended at the church that it\n      would be their last.\n      Nor was it without other strange effects, for it took away, all\n      manner of prejudice at or scruple about the person whom they\n      found in the pulpit when they came to the churches. It cannot be\n      doubted but that many of the ministers of the parish churches\n      were cut off, among others, in so common and dreadful a calamity;\n      and others had not courage enough to stand it, but removed into\n      the country as they found means for escape. As then some parish\n      churches were quite vacant and forsaken, the people made no\n      scruple of desiring such Dissenters as had been a few years\n      before deprived of their livings by virtue of the Act of\n      Parliament called the Act of Uniformity to preach in the\n      churches; nor did the church ministers in that case make any\n      difficulty of accepting their assistance; so that many of those\n      whom they called silenced ministers had their mouths opened on\n      this occasion and preached publicly to the people.\n      Here we may observe and I hope it will not be amiss to take\n      notice of it that a near view of death would soon reconcile men\n      of good principles one to another, and that it is chiefly owing\n      to our easy situation in life and our putting these things far\n      from us that our breaches are fomented, ill blood continued,\n      prejudices, breach of charity and of Christian union, so much\n      kept and so far carried on among us as it is. Another plague year\n      would reconcile all these differences; a close conversing with\n      death, or with diseases that threaten death, would scum off the\n      gall from our tempers, remove the animosities among us, and bring\n      us to see with differing eyes than those which we looked on\n      things with before. As the people who had been used to join with\n      the Church were reconciled at this time with the admitting the\n      Dissenters to preach to them, so the Dissenters, who with an\n      uncommon prejudice had broken off from the communion of the\n      Church of England, were now content to come to their parish\n      churches and to conform to the worship which they did not approve\n      of before; but as the terror of the infection abated, those\n      things all returned again to their less desirable channel and to\n      the course they were in before.\n      I mention this but historically. I have no mind to enter into\n      arguments to move either or both sides to a more charitable\n      compliance one with another. I do not see that it is probable\n      such a discourse would be either suitable or successful; the\n      breaches seem rather to widen, and tend to a widening further,\n      than to closing, and who am I that I should think myself able to\n      influence either one side or other? But this I may repeat again,\n      that \u2019tis evident death will reconcile us all; on the other side\n      the grave we shall be all brethren again. In heaven, whither I\n      hope we may come from all parties and persuasions, we shall find\n      neither prejudice or scruple; there we shall be of one principle\n      and of one opinion. Why we cannot be content to go hand in hand\n      to the Place where we shall join heart and hand without the least\n      hesitation, and with the most complete harmony and affection\u2014I\n      say, why we cannot do so here I can say nothing to, neither shall\n      I say anything more of it but that it remains to be lamented.\n      I could dwell a great while upon the calamities of this dreadful\n      time, and go on to describe the objects that appeared among us\n      every day, the dreadful extravagancies which the distraction of\n      sick people drove them into; how the streets began now to be\n      fuller of frightful objects, and families to be made even a\n      terror to themselves. But after I have told you, as I have above,\n      that one man, being tied in his bed, and finding no other way to\n      deliver himself, set the bed on fire with his candle, which\n      unhappily stood within his reach, and burnt himself in his bed;\n      and how another, by the insufferable torment he bore, danced and\n      sung naked in the streets, not knowing one ecstasy from another;\n      I say, after I have mentioned these things, what can be added\n      more? What can be said to represent the misery of these times\n      more lively to the reader, or to give him a more perfect idea of\n      a complicated distress?\n      I must acknowledge that this time was terrible, that I was\n      sometimes at the end of all my resolutions, and that I had not\n      the courage that I had at the beginning. As the extremity brought\n      other people abroad, it drove me home, and except having made my\n      voyage down to Blackwall and Greenwich, as I have related, which\n      was an excursion, I kept afterwards very much within doors, as I\n      had for about a fortnight before. I have said already that I\n      repented several times that I had ventured to stay in town, and\n      had not gone away with my brother and his family, but it was too\n      late for that now; and after I had retreated and stayed within\n      doors a good while before my impatience led me abroad, then they\n      called me, as I have said, to an ugly and dangerous office which\n      brought me out again; but as that was expired while the height of\n      the distemper lasted, I retired again, and continued close ten or\n      twelve days more, during which many dismal spectacles represented\n      themselves in my view out of my own windows and in our own\n      street\u2014as that particularly from Harrow Alley, of the poor\n      outrageous creature which danced and sung in his agony; and many\n      others there were. Scarce a day or night passed over but some\n      dismal thing or other happened at the end of that Harrow Alley,\n      which was a place full of poor people, most of them belonging to\n      the butchers or to employments depending upon the butchery.\n      Sometimes heaps and throngs of people would burst out of the\n      alley, most of them women, making a dreadful clamour, mixed or\n      compounded of screeches, cryings, and calling one another, that\n      we could not conceive what to make of it. Almost all the dead\n      part of the night the dead-cart stood at the end of that alley,\n      for if it went in it could not well turn again, and could go in\n      but a little way. There, I say, it stood to receive dead bodies,\n      and as the churchyard was but a little way off, if it went away\n      full it would soon be back again. It is impossible to describe\n      the most horrible cries and noise the poor people would make at\n      their bringing the dead bodies of their children and friends out\n      of the cart, and by the number one would have thought there had\n      been none left behind, or that there were people enough for a\n      small city living in those places. Several times they cried\n      \u2018Murder\u2019, sometimes \u2018Fire\u2019; but it was easy to perceive it was\n      all distraction, and the complaints of distressed and distempered\n      people.\n      I believe it was everywhere thus as that time, for the plague\n      raged for six or seven weeks beyond all that I have expressed,\n      and came even to such a height that, in the extremity, they began\n      to break into that excellent order of which I have spoken so much\n      in behalf of the magistrates; namely, that no dead bodies were\n      seen in the street or burials in the daytime: for there was a\n      necessity in this extremity to bear with its being otherwise for\n      a little while.\n      One thing I cannot omit here, and indeed I thought it was\n      extraordinary, at least it seemed a remarkable hand of Divine\n      justice: viz., that all the predictors, astrologers,\n      fortune-tellers, and what they called cunning-men, conjurers, and\n      the like: calculators of nativities and dreamers of dream, and\n      such people, were gone and vanished; not one of them was to be\n      found. I am verily persuaded that a great number of them fell in\n      the heat of the calamity, having ventured to stay upon the\n      prospect of getting great estates; and indeed their gain was but\n      too great for a time, through the madness and folly of the\n      people. But now they were silent; many of them went to their long\n      home, not able to foretell their own fate or to calculate their\n      own nativities. Some have been critical enough to say that every\n      one of them died. I dare not affirm that; but this I must own,\n      that I never heard of one of them that ever appeared after the\n      calamity was over.\n      But to return to my particular observations during this dreadful\n      part of the visitation. I am now come, as I have said, to the\n      month of September, which was the most dreadful of its kind, I\n      believe, that ever London saw; for, by all the accounts which I\n      have seen of the preceding visitations which have been in London,\n      nothing has been like it, the number in the weekly bill amounting\n      to almost 40,000 from the 22nd of August to the 26th of\n      September, being but five weeks. The particulars of the bills are\n      as follows, viz.:\u2014\n      This was a prodigious number of itself, but if I should add the\n      reasons which I have to believe that this account was deficient,\n      and how deficient it was, you would, with me, make no scruple to\n      believe that there died above ten thousand a week for all those\n      weeks, one week with another, and a proportion for several weeks\n      both before and after. The confusion among the people, especially\n      within the city, at that time, was inexpressible. The terror was\n      so great at last that the courage of the people appointed to\n      carry away the dead began to fail them; nay, several of them\n      died, although they had the distemper before and were recovered,\n      and some of them dropped down when they have been carrying the\n      bodies even at the pit side, and just ready to throw them in; and\n      this confusion was greater in the city because they had flattered\n      themselves with hopes of escaping, and thought the bitterness of\n      death was past. One cart, they told us, going up Shoreditch was\n      forsaken of the drivers, or being left to one man to drive, he\n      died in the street; and the horses going on overthrew the cart,\n      and left the bodies, some thrown out here, some there, in a\n      dismal manner. Another cart was, it seems, found in the great pit\n      in Finsbury Fields, the driver being dead, or having been gone\n      and abandoned it, and the horses running too near it, the cart\n      fell in and drew the horses in also. It was suggested that the\n      driver was thrown in with it and that the cart fell upon him, by\n      reason his whip was seen to be in the pit among the bodies; but\n      that, I suppose, could not be certain.\n      In our parish of Aldgate the dead-carts were several times, as I\n      have heard, found standing at the churchyard gate full of dead\n      bodies, but neither bellman or driver or any one else with it;\n      neither in these or many other cases did they know what bodies\n      they had in their cart, for sometimes they were let down with\n      ropes out of balconies and out of windows, and sometimes the\n      bearers brought them to the cart, sometimes other people; nor, as\n      the men themselves said, did they trouble themselves to keep any\n      account of the numbers.\n      The vigilance of the magistrates was now put to the utmost\n      trial\u2014and, it must be confessed, can never be enough acknowledged\n      on this occasion also; whatever expense or trouble they were at,\n      two things were never neglected in the city or suburbs either:\u2014\n      (1) Provisions were always to be had in full plenty, and the\n      price not much raised neither, hardly worth speaking.\n      (2) No dead bodies lay unburied or uncovered; and if one walked\n      from one end of the city to another, no funeral or sign of it was\n      to be seen in the daytime, except a little, as I have said above,\n      in the three first weeks in September.\n      This last article perhaps will hardly be believed when some\n      accounts which others have published since that shall be seen,\n      wherein they say that the dead lay unburied, which I am assured\n      was utterly false; at least, if it had been anywhere so, it must\n      have been in houses where the living were gone from the dead\n      (having found means, as I have observed, to escape) and where no\n      notice was given to the officers. All which amounts to nothing at\n      all in the case in hand; for this I am positive in, having myself\n      been employed a little in the direction of that part in the\n      parish in which I lived, and where as great a desolation was made\n      in proportion to the number of inhabitants as was anywhere; I\n      say, I am sure that there were no dead bodies remained unburied;\n      that is to say, none that the proper officers knew of; none for\n      want of people to carry them off, and buriers to put them into\n      the ground and cover them; and this is sufficient to the\n      argument; for what might lie in houses and holes, as in Moses and\n      Aaron Alley, is nothing; for it is most certain they were buried\n      as soon as they were found. As to the first article (namely, of\n      provisions, the scarcity or dearness), though I have mentioned it\n      before and shall speak of it again, yet I must observe here:\u2014\n      (1) The price of bread in particular was not much raised; for in\n      the beginning of the year, viz., in the first week in March, the\n      penny wheaten loaf was ten ounces and a half; and in the height\n      of the contagion it was to be had at nine ounces and a half, and\n      never dearer, no, not all that season. And about the beginning of\n      November it was sold ten ounces and a half again; the like of\n      which, I believe, was never heard of in any city, under so\n      dreadful a visitation, before.\n      (2) Neither was there (which I wondered much at) any want of\n      bakers or ovens kept open to supply the people with the bread;\n      but this was indeed alleged by some families, viz., that their\n      maidservants, going to the bakehouses with their dough to be\n      baked, which was then the custom, sometimes came home with the\n      sickness (that is to say the plague) upon them.\n      In all this dreadful visitation there were, as I have said\n      before, but two pest-houses made use of, viz., one in the fields\n      beyond Old Street and one in Westminster; neither was there any\n      compulsion used in carrying people thither. Indeed there was no\n      need of compulsion in the case, for there were thousands of poor\n      distressed people who, having no help or conveniences or supplies\n      but of charity, would have been very glad to have been carried\n      thither and been taken care of; which, indeed, was the only thing\n      that I think was wanting in the whole public management of the\n      city, seeing nobody was here allowed to be brought to the\n      pest-house but where money was given, or security for money,\n      either at their introducing or upon their being cured and sent\n      out\u2014for very many were sent out again whole; and very good\n      physicians were appointed to those places, so that many people\n      did very well there, of which I shall make mention again. The\n      principal sort of people sent thither were, as I have said,\n      servants who got the distemper by going on errands to fetch\n      necessaries to the families where they lived, and who in that\n      case, if they came home sick, were removed to preserve the rest\n      of the house; and they were so well looked after there in all the\n      time of the visitation that there was but 156 buried in all at\n      the London pest-house, and 159 at that of Westminster.\n      By having more pest-houses I am far from meaning a forcing all\n      people into such places. Had the shutting up of houses been\n      omitted and the sick hurried out of their dwellings to\n      pest-houses, as some proposed, it seems, at that time as well as\n      since, it would certainly have been much worse than it was. The\n      very removing the sick would have been a spreading of the\n      infection, and rather because that removing could not effectually\n      clear the house where the sick person was of the distemper; and\n      the rest of the family, being then left at liberty, would\n      certainly spread it among others.\n      The methods also in private families, which would have been\n      universally used to have concealed the distemper and to have\n      concealed the persons being sick, would have been such that the\n      distemper would sometimes have seized a whole family before any\n      visitors or examiners could have known of it. On the other hand,\n      the prodigious numbers which would have been sick at a time would\n      have exceeded all the capacity of public pest-houses to receive\n      them, or of public officers to discover and remove them.\n      This was well considered in those days, and I have heard them\n      talk of it often. The magistrates had enough to do to bring\n      people to submit to having their houses shut up, and many ways\n      they deceived the watchmen and got out, as I have observed. But\n      that difficulty made it apparent that they would have found it\n      impracticable to have gone the other way to work, for they could\n      never have forced the sick people out of their beds and out of\n      their dwellings. It must not have been my Lord Mayor\u2019s officers,\n      but an army of officers, that must have attempted it; and the\n      people, on the other hand, would have been enraged and desperate,\n      and would have killed those that should have offered to have\n      meddled with them or with their children and relations, whatever\n      had befallen them for it; so that they would have made the\n      people, who, as it was, were in the most terrible distraction\n      imaginable, I say, they would have made them stark mad; whereas\n      the magistrates found it proper on several accounts to treat them\n      with lenity and compassion, and not with violence and terror,\n      such as dragging the sick out of their houses or obliging them to\n      remove themselves, would have been.\n      This leads me again to mention the time when the plague first\n      began; that is to say, when it became certain that it would\n      spread over the whole town, when, as I have said, the better sort\n      of people first took the alarm and began to hurry themselves out\n      of town. It was true, as I observed in its place, that the throng\n      was so great, and the coaches, horses, waggons, and carts were so\n      many, driving and dragging the people away, that it looked as if\n      all the city was running away; and had any regulations been\n      published that had been terrifying at that time, especially such\n      as would pretend to dispose of the people otherwise than they\n      would dispose of themselves, it would have put both the city and\n      suburbs into the utmost confusion.\n      But the magistrates wisely caused the people to be encouraged,\n      made very good bye-laws for the regulating the citizens, keeping\n      good order in the streets, and making everything as eligible as\n      possible to all sorts of people.\n      In the first place, the Lord Mayor and the sheriffs, the Court of\n      Aldermen, and a certain number of the Common Council men, or\n      their deputies, came to a resolution and published it, viz., that\n      they would not quit the city themselves, but that they would be\n      always at hand for the preserving good order in every place and\n      for the doing justice on all occasions; as also for the\n      distributing the public charity to the poor; and, in a word, for\n      the doing the duty and discharging the trust reposed in them by\n      the citizens to the utmost of their power.\n      In pursuance of these orders, the Lord Mayor, sheriffs, &c., held\n      councils every day, more or less, for making such dispositions as\n      they found needful for preserving the civil peace; and though\n      they used the people with all possible gentleness and clemency,\n      yet all manner of presumptuous rogues such as thieves,\n      housebreakers, plunderers of the dead or of the sick, were duly\n      punished, and several declarations were continually published by\n      the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen against such.\n      Also all constables and churchwardens were enjoined to stay in\n      the city upon severe penalties, or to depute such able and\n      sufficient housekeepers as the deputy aldermen or Common Council\n      men of the precinct should approve, and for whom they should give\n      security; and also security in case of mortality that they would\n      forthwith constitute other constables in their stead.\n      These things re-established the minds of the people very much,\n      especially in the first of their fright, when they talked of\n      making so universal a flight that the city would have been in\n      danger of being entirely deserted of its inhabitants except the\n      poor, and the country of being plundered and laid waste by the\n      multitude. Nor were the magistrates deficient in performing their\n      part as boldly as they promised it; for my Lord Mayor and the\n      sheriffs were continually in the streets and at places of the\n      greatest danger, and though they did not care for having too\n      great a resort of people crowding about them, yet in emergent\n      cases they never denied the people access to them, and heard with\n      patience all their grievances and complaints. My Lord Mayor had a\n      low gallery built on purpose in his hall, where he stood a little\n      removed from the crowd when any complaint came to be heard, that\n      he might appear with as much safety as possible.\n      Likewise the proper officers, called my Lord Mayor\u2019s officers,\n      constantly attended in their turns, as they were in waiting; and\n      if any of them were sick or infected, as some of them were,\n      others were instantly employed to fill up and officiate in their\n      places till it was known whether the other should live or die.\n      In like manner the sheriffs and aldermen did in their several\n      stations and wards, where they were placed by office, and the\n      sheriff\u2019s officers or sergeants were appointed to receive orders\n      from the respective aldermen in their turn, so that justice was\n      executed in all cases without interruption. In the next place, it\n      was one of their particular cares to see the orders for the\n      freedom of the markets observed, and in this part either the Lord\n      Mayor or one or both of the sheriffs were every market-day on\n      horseback to see their orders executed and to see that the\n      country people had all possible encouragement and freedom in\n      their coming to the markets and going back again, and that no\n      nuisances or frightful objects should be seen in the streets to\n      terrify them or make them unwilling to come. Also the bakers were\n      taken under particular order, and the Master of the Bakers\u2019\n      Company was, with his court of assistants, directed to see the\n      order of my Lord Mayor for their regulation put in execution, and\n      the due assize of bread (which was weekly appointed by my Lord\n      Mayor) observed; and all the bakers were obliged to keep their\n      oven going constantly, on pain of losing the privileges of a\n      freeman of the city of London.\n      By this means bread was always to be had in plenty, and as cheap\n      as usual, as I said above; and provisions were never wanting in\n      the markets, even to such a degree that I often wondered at it,\n      and reproached myself with being so timorous and cautious in\n      stirring abroad, when the country people came freely and boldly\n      to market, as if there had been no manner of infection in the\n      city, or danger of catching it.\n      It was indeed one admirable piece of conduct in the said\n      magistrates that the streets were kept constantly clear and free\n      from all manner of frightful objects, dead bodies, or any such\n      things as were indecent or unpleasant\u2014unless where anybody fell\n      down suddenly or died in the streets, as I have said above; and\n      these were generally covered with some cloth or blanket, or\n      removed into the next churchyard till night. All the needful\n      works that carried terror with them, that were both dismal and\n      dangerous, were done in the night; if any diseased bodies were\n      removed, or dead bodies buried, or infected clothes burnt, it was\n      done in the night; and all the bodies which were thrown into the\n      great pits in the several churchyards or burying-grounds, as has\n      been observed, were so removed in the night, and everything was\n      covered and closed before day. So that in the daytime there was\n      not the least signal of the calamity to be seen or heard of,\n      except what was to be observed from the emptiness of the streets,\n      and sometimes from the passionate outcries and lamentations of\n      the people, out at their windows, and from the numbers of houses\n      and shops shut up.\n      Nor was the silence and emptiness of the streets so much in the\n      city as in the out-parts, except just at one particular time\n      when, as I have mentioned, the plague came east and spread over\n      all the city. It was indeed a merciful disposition of God, that\n      as the plague began at one end of the town first (as has been\n      observed at large) so it proceeded progressively to other parts,\n      and did not come on this way, or eastward, till it had spent its\n      fury in the West part of the town; and so, as it came on one way,\n      it abated another. For example, it began at St Giles\u2019s and the\n      Westminster end of the town, and it was in its height in all that\n      part by about the middle of July, viz., in St\n      Giles-in-the-Fields, St Andrew\u2019s, Holborn, St Clement Danes, St\n      Martin-in-the-Fields, and in Westminster. The latter end of July\n      it decreased in those parishes; and coming east, it increased\n      prodigiously in Cripplegate, St Sepulcher\u2019s, St James\u2019s,\n      Clarkenwell, and St Bride\u2019s and Aldersgate. While it was in all\n      these parishes, the city and all the parishes of the Southwark\n      side of the water and all Stepney, Whitechappel, Aldgate,\n      Wapping, and Ratcliff, were very little touched; so that people\n      went about their business unconcerned, carried on their trades,\n      kept open their shops, and conversed freely with one another in\n      all the city, the east and north-east suburbs, and in Southwark,\n      almost as if the plague had not been among us.\n      Even when the north and north-west suburbs were fully infected,\n      viz., Cripplegate, Clarkenwell, Bishopsgate, and Shoreditch, yet\n      still all the rest were tolerably well. For example from 25th\n      July to 1st August the bill stood thus of all diseases:\u2014\n     All the ninety-seven parishes within the walls     228\n     All the parishes in Southwark                      205\n      So that, in short, there died more that week in the two parishes\n      of Cripplegate and St Sepulcher by forty-eight than in all the\n      city, all the east suburbs, and all the Southwark parishes put\n      together. This caused the reputation of the city\u2019s health to\n      continue all over England\u2014and especially in the counties and\n      markets adjacent, from whence our supply of provisions chiefly\n      came even much longer than that health itself continued; for when\n      the people came into the streets from the country by Shoreditch\n      and Bishopsgate, or by Old Street and Smithfield, they would see\n      the out-streets empty and the houses and shops shut, and the few\n      people that were stirring there walk in the middle of the\n      streets. But when they came within the city, there things looked\n      better, and the markets and shops were open, and the people\n      walking about the streets as usual, though not quite so many; and\n      this continued till the latter end of August and the beginning of\n      September.\n      But then the case altered quite; the distemper abated in the west\n      and north-west parishes, and the weight of the infection lay on\n      the city and the eastern suburbs, and the Southwark side, and\n      this in a frightful manner. Then, indeed, the city began to look\n      dismal, shops to be shut, and the streets desolate. In the High\n      Street, indeed, necessity made people stir abroad on many\n      occasions; and there would be in the middle of the day a pretty\n      many people, but in the mornings and evenings scarce any to be\n      seen, even there, no, not in Cornhill and Cheapside.\n      These observations of mine were abundantly confirmed by the\n      weekly bills of mortality for those weeks, an abstract of which,\n      as they respect the parishes which I have mentioned and as they\n      make the calculations I speak of very evident, take as follows.\n      The weekly bill, which makes out this decrease of the burials in\n      the west and north side of the city, stands thus\u2014\nFrom the 12th of September to the 19th\u2014\n     -    In the ninety-seven parishes within the walls   1493\n     -    In the eight parishes on Southwark side         1636\n      Here is a strange change of things indeed, and a sad change it\n      was; and had it held for two months more than it did, very few\n      people would have been left alive. But then such, I say, was the\n      merciful disposition of God that, when it was thus, the west and\n      north part which had been so dreadfully visited at first, grew,\n      as you see, much better; and as the people disappeared here, they\n      began to look abroad again there; and the next week or two\n      altered it still more; that is, more to the encouragement of the\n      other part of the town. For example:\u2014\nFrom the 19th of September to the 26th\u2014\n     -    In the ninety-seven parishes within the walls  1268\n     -    In the eight parishes on Southwark side        1390\n     From the 26th of September to the 3rd of October\u2014\n     -    In the ninety-seven parishes within the walls  1149\n     -    In the eight parishes on Southwark side        1201\n      And now the misery of the city and of the said east and south\n      parts was complete indeed; for, as you see, the weight of the\n      distemper lay upon those parts, that is to say, the city, the\n      eight parishes over the river, with the parishes of Aldgate,\n      Whitechappel, and Stepney; and this was the time that the bills\n      came up to such a monstrous height as that I mentioned before,\n      and that eight or nine, and, as I believe, ten or twelve thousand\n      a week, died; for it is my settled opinion that they never could\n      come at any just account of the numbers, for the reasons which I\n      have given already.\n      Nay, one of the most eminent physicians, who has since published\n      in Latin an account of those times, and of his observations says\n      that in one week there died twelve thousand people, and that\n      particularly there died four thousand in one night; though I do\n      not remember that there ever was any such particular night so\n      remarkably fatal as that such a number died in it. However, all\n      this confirms what I have said above of the uncertainty of the\n      bills of mortality, &c., of which I shall say more hereafter.\n      And here let me take leave to enter again, though it may seem a\n      repetition of circumstances, into a description of the miserable\n      condition of the city itself, and of those parts where I lived at\n      this particular time. The city and those other parts,\n      notwithstanding the great numbers of people that were gone into\n      the country, was vastly full of people; and perhaps the fuller\n      because people had for a long time a strong belief that the\n      plague would not come into the city, nor into Southwark, no, nor\n      into Wapping or Ratcliff at all; nay, such was the assurance of\n      the people on that head that many removed from the suburbs on the\n      west and north sides, into those eastern and south sides as for\n      safety; and, as I verily believe, carried the plague amongst them\n      there perhaps sooner than they would otherwise have had it.\n      Here also I ought to leave a further remark for the use of\n      posterity, concerning the manner of people\u2019s infecting one\n      another; namely, that it was not the sick people only from whom\n      the plague was immediately received by others that were sound,\n      but the well. To explain myself: by the sick people I mean those\n      who were known to be sick, had taken their beds, had been under\n      cure, or had swellings and tumours upon them, and the like; these\n      everybody could beware of; they were either in their beds or in\n      such condition as could not be concealed.\n      By the well I mean such as had received the contagion, and had it\n      really upon them, and in their blood, yet did not show the\n      consequences of it in their countenances: nay, even were not\n      sensible of it themselves, as many were not for several days.\n      These breathed death in every place, and upon everybody who came\n      near them; nay, their very clothes retained the infection, their\n      hands would infect the things they touched, especially if they\n      were warm and sweaty, and they were generally apt to sweat too.\n      Now it was impossible to know these people, nor did they\n      sometimes, as I have said, know themselves to be infected. These\n      were the people that so often dropped down and fainted in the\n      streets; for oftentimes they would go about the streets to the\n      last, till on a sudden they would sweat, grow faint, sit down at\n      a door and die. It is true, finding themselves thus, they would\n      struggle hard to get home to their own doors, or at other times\n      would be just able to go into their houses and die instantly;\n      other times they would go about till they had the very tokens\n      come out upon them, and yet not know it, and would die in an hour\n      or two after they came home, but be well as long as they were\n      abroad. These were the dangerous people; these were the people of\n      whom the well people ought to have been afraid; but then, on the\n      other side, it was impossible to know them.\n      And this is the reason why it is impossible in a visitation to\n      prevent the spreading of the plague by the utmost human\n      vigilance: viz., that it is impossible to know the infected\n      people from the sound, or that the infected people should\n      perfectly know themselves. I knew a man who conversed freely in\n      London all the season of the plague in 1665, and kept about him\n      an antidote or cordial on purpose to take when he thought himself\n      in any danger, and he had such a rule to know or have warning of\n      the danger by as indeed I never met with before or since. How far\n      it may be depended on I know not. He had a wound in his leg, and\n      whenever he came among any people that were not sound, and the\n      infection began to affect him, he said he could know it by that\n      signal, viz., that his wound in his leg would smart, and look\n      pale and white; so as soon as ever he felt it smart it was time\n      for him to withdraw, or to take care of himself, taking his\n      drink, which he always carried about him for that purpose. Now it\n      seems he found his wound would smart many times when he was in\n      company with such who thought themselves to be sound, and who\n      appeared so to one another; but he would presently rise up and\n      say publicly, \u2018Friends, here is somebody in the room that has the\n      plague\u2019, and so would immediately break up the company. This was\n      indeed a faithful monitor to all people that the plague is not to\n      be avoided by those that converse promiscuously in a town\n      infected, and people have it when they know it not, and that they\n      likewise give it to others when they know not that they have it\n      themselves; and in this case shutting up the well or removing the\n      sick will not do it, unless they can go back and shut up all\n      those that the sick had conversed with, even before they knew\n      themselves to be sick, and none knows how far to carry that back,\n      or where to stop; for none knows when or where or how they may\n      have received the infection, or from whom.\n      This I take to be the reason which makes so many people talk of\n      the air being corrupted and infected, and that they need not be\n      cautious of whom they converse with, for that the contagion was\n      in the air. I have seen them in strange agitations and surprises\n      on this account. \u2018I have never come near any infected body\u2019, says\n      the disturbed person; \u2018I have conversed with none but sound,\n      healthy people, and yet I have gotten the distemper!\u2019 \u2018I am sure\n      I am struck from Heaven\u2019, says another, and he falls to the\n      serious part. Again, the first goes on exclaiming, \u2018I have come\n      near no infection or any infected person; I am sure it is the\n      air. We draw in death when we breathe, and therefore \u2019tis the\n      hand of God; there is no withstanding it.\u2019 And this at last made\n      many people, being hardened to the danger, grow less concerned at\n      it; and less cautious towards the latter end of the time, and\n      when it was come to its height, than they were at first. Then,\n      with a kind of a Turkish predestinarianism, they would say, if it\n      pleased God to strike them, it was all one whether they went\n      abroad or stayed at home; they could not escape it, and therefore\n      they went boldly about, even into infected houses and infected\n      company; visited sick people; and, in short, lay in the beds with\n      their wives or relations when they were infected. And what was\n      the consequence, but the same that is the consequence in Turkey,\n      and in those countries where they do those things\u2014namely, that\n      they were infected too, and died by hundreds and thousands?\n      I would be far from lessening the awe of the judgements of God\n      and the reverence to His providence which ought always to be on\n      our minds on such occasions as these. Doubtless the visitation\n      itself is a stroke from Heaven upon a city, or country, or nation\n      where it falls; a messenger of His vengeance, and a loud call to\n      that nation or country or city to humiliation and repentance,\n      according to that of the prophet Jeremiah (xviii. 7, 8): \u2018At what\n      instant I shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a\n      kingdom, to pluck up, and to pull down, and to destroy it; if\n      that nation against whom I have pronounced turn from their evil,\n      I will repent of the evil that I thought to do unto them.\u2019 Now to\n      prompt due impressions of the awe of God on the minds of men on\n      such occasions, and not to lessen them, it is that I have left\n      those minutes upon record.\n      I say, therefore, I reflect upon no man for putting the reason of\n      those things upon the immediate hand of God, and the appointment\n      and direction of His providence; nay, on the contrary, there were\n      many wonderful deliverances of persons from infection, and\n      deliverances of persons when infected, which intimate singular\n      and remarkable providence in the particular instances to which\n      they refer; and I esteem my own deliverance to be one next to\n      miraculous, and do record it with thankfulness.\n      But when I am speaking of the plague as a distemper arising from\n      natural causes, we must consider it as it was really propagated\n      by natural means; nor is it at all the less a judgement for its\n      being under the conduct of human causes and effects; for, as the\n      Divine Power has formed the whole scheme of nature and maintains\n      nature in its course, so the same Power thinks fit to let His own\n      actings with men, whether of mercy or judgement, to go on in the\n      ordinary course of natural causes; and He is pleased to act by\n      those natural causes as the ordinary means, excepting and\n      reserving to Himself nevertheless a power to act in a\n      supernatural way when He sees occasion. Now \u2019tis evident that in\n      the case of an infection there is no apparent extraordinary\n      occasion for supernatural operation, but the ordinary course of\n      things appears sufficiently armed, and made capable of all the\n      effects that Heaven usually directs by a contagion. Among these\n      causes and effects, this of the secret conveyance of infection,\n      imperceptible and unavoidable, is more than sufficient to execute\n      the fierceness of Divine vengeance, without putting it upon\n      supernaturals and miracle.\n      The acute penetrating nature of the disease itself was such, and\n      the infection was received so imperceptibly, that the most exact\n      caution could not secure us while in the place. But I must be\n      allowed to believe\u2014and I have so many examples fresh in my memory\n      to convince me of it, that I think none can resist their\n      evidence\u2014I say, I must be allowed to believe that no one in this\n      whole nation ever received the sickness or infection but who\n      received it in the ordinary way of infection from somebody, or\n      the clothes or touch or stench of somebody that was infected\n      before.\n      The manner of its coming first to London proves this also, viz.,\n      by goods brought over from Holland, and brought thither from the\n      Levant; the first breaking of it out in a house in Long Acre\n      where those goods were carried and first opened; its spreading\n      from that house to other houses by the visible unwary conversing\n      with those who were sick; and the infecting the parish officers\n      who were employed about the persons dead, and the like. These are\n      known authorities for this great foundation point\u2014that it went on\n      and proceeded from person to person and from house to house, and\n      no otherwise. In the first house that was infected there died\n      four persons. A neighbour, hearing the mistress of the first\n      house was sick, went to visit her, and went home and gave the\n      distemper to her family, and died, and all her household. A\n      minister, called to pray with the first sick person in the second\n      house, was said to sicken immediately and die with several more\n      in his house. Then the physicians began to consider, for they did\n      not at first dream of a general contagion. But the physicians\n      being sent to inspect the bodies, they assured the people that it\n      was neither more or less than the plague, with all its terrifying\n      particulars, and that it threatened an universal infection, so\n      many people having already conversed with the sick or\n      distempered, and having, as might be supposed, received infection\n      from them, that it would be impossible to put a stop to it.\n      Here the opinion of the physicians agreed with my observation\n      afterwards, namely, that the danger was spreading insensibly, for\n      the sick could infect none but those that came within reach of\n      the sick person; but that one man who may have really received\n      the infection and knows it not, but goes abroad and about as a\n      sound person, may give the plague to a thousand people, and they\n      to greater numbers in proportion, and neither the person giving\n      the infection or the persons receiving it know anything of it,\n      and perhaps not feel the effects of it for several days after.\n      For example, many persons in the time of this visitation never\n      perceived that they were infected till they found to their\n      unspeakable surprise, the tokens come out upon them; after which\n      they seldom lived six hours; for those spots they called the\n      tokens were really gangrene spots, or mortified flesh in small\n      knobs as broad as a little silver penny, and hard as a piece of\n      callus or horn; so that, when the disease was come up to that\n      length, there was nothing could follow but certain death; and\n      yet, as I said, they knew nothing of their being infected, nor\n      found themselves so much as out of order, till those mortal marks\n      were upon them. But everybody must allow that they were infected\n      in a high degree before, and must have been so some time, and\n      consequently their breath, their sweat, their very clothes, were\n      contagious for many days before. This occasioned a vast variety\n      of cases which physicians would have much more opportunity to\n      remember than I; but some came within the compass of my\n      observation or hearing, of which I shall name a few.\n      A certain citizen who had lived safe and untouched till the month\n      of September, when the weight of the distemper lay more in the\n      city than it had done before, was mighty cheerful, and something\n      too bold (as I think it was) in his talk of how secure he was,\n      how cautious he had been, and how he had never come near any sick\n      body. Says another citizen, a neighbour of his, to him one day,\n      \u2018Do not be too confident, Mr \u2014\u2014; it is hard to say who is sick and\n      who is well, for we see men alive and well to outward appearance\n      one hour, and dead the next.\u2019 \u2018That is true\u2019, says the first man,\n      for he was not a man presumptuously secure, but had escaped a\n      long while\u2014and men, as I said above, especially in the city began\n      to be over-easy upon that score. \u2018That is true,\u2019 says he; \u2018I do\n      not think myself secure, but I hope I have not been in company\n      with any person that there has been any danger in.\u2019 \u2018No?\u2019 says\n      his neighbour. \u2018Was not you at the Bull Head Tavern in\n      Gracechurch Street with Mr \u2014\u2014 the night before last?\u2019 \u2018Yes,\u2019 says\n      the first, \u2018I was; but there was nobody there that we had any\n      reason to think dangerous.\u2019 Upon which his neighbour said no\n      more, being unwilling to surprise him; but this made him more\n      inquisitive, and as his neighbour appeared backward, he was the\n      more impatient, and in a kind of warmth says he aloud, \u2018Why, he\n      is not dead, is he?\u2019 Upon which his neighbour still was silent,\n      but cast up his eyes and said something to himself; at which the\n      first citizen turned pale, and said no more but this, \u2018Then I am\n      a dead man too\u2019, and went home immediately and sent for a\n      neighbouring apothecary to give him something preventive, for he\n      had not yet found himself ill; but the apothecary, opening his\n      breast, fetched a sigh, and said no more but this, \u2018Look up to\n      God\u2019; and the man died in a few hours.\n      Now let any man judge from a case like this if it is possible for\n      the regulations of magistrates, either by shutting up the sick or\n      removing them, to stop an infection which spreads itself from man\n      to man even while they are perfectly well and insensible of its\n      approach, and may be so for many days.\n      It may be proper to ask here how long it may be supposed men\n      might have the seeds of the contagion in them before it\n      discovered itself in this fatal manner, and how long they might\n      go about seemingly whole, and yet be contagious to all those that\n      came near them. I believe the most experienced physicians cannot\n      answer this question directly any more than I can; and something\n      an ordinary observer may take notice of, which may pass their\n      observations. The opinion of physicians abroad seems to be that\n      it may lie dormant in the spirits or in the blood-vessels a very\n      considerable time. Why else do they exact a quarantine of those\n      who came into their harbours and ports from suspected places?\n      Forty days is, one would think, too long for nature to struggle\n      with such an enemy as this, and not conquer it or yield to it.\n      But I could not think, by my own observation, that they can be\n      infected so as to be contagious to others above fifteen or\n      sixteen days at furthest; and on that score it was, that when a\n      house was shut up in the city and any one had died of the plague,\n      but nobody appeared to be ill in the family for sixteen or\n      eighteen days after, they were not so strict but that they would\n      connive at their going privately abroad; nor would people be much\n      afraid of them afterward, but rather think they were fortified\n      the better, having not been vulnerable when the enemy was in\n      their own house; but we sometimes found it had lain much longer\n      concealed.\n      Upon the foot of all these observations I must say that though\n      Providence seemed to direct my conduct to be otherwise, yet it is\n      my opinion, and I must leave it as a prescription, viz., that the\n      best physic against the plague is to run away from it. I know\n      people encourage themselves by saying God is able to keep us in\n      the midst of danger, and able to overtake us when we think\n      ourselves out of danger; and this kept thousands in the town\n      whose carcases went into the great pits by cartloads, and who, if\n      they had fled from the danger, had, I believe, been safe from the\n      disaster; at least \u2019tis probable they had been safe.\n      And were this very fundamental only duly considered by the people\n      on any future occasion of this or the like nature, I am persuaded\n      it would put them upon quite different measures for managing the\n      people from those that they took in 1665, or than any that have\n      been taken abroad that I have heard of. In a word, they would\n      consider of separating the people into smaller bodies, and\n      removing them in time farther from one another\u2014and not let such a\n      contagion as this, which is indeed chiefly dangerous to collected\n      bodies of people, find a million of people in a body together, as\n      was very near the case before, and would certainly be the case if\n      it should ever appear again.\n      The plague, like a great fire, if a few houses only are\n      contiguous where it happens, can only burn a few houses; or if it\n      begins in a single, or, as we call it, a lone house, can only\n      burn that lone house where it begins. But if it begins in a\n      close-built town or city and gets a head, there its fury\n      increases: it rages over the whole place, and consumes all it can\n      reach.\n      I could propose many schemes on the foot of which the government\n      of this city, if ever they should be under the apprehensions of\n      such another enemy (God forbid they should), might ease\n      themselves of the greatest part of the dangerous people that\n      belong to them; I mean such as the begging, starving, labouring\n      poor, and among them chiefly those who, in case of a siege, are\n      called the useless mouths; who being then prudently and to their\n      own advantage disposed of, and the wealthy inhabitants disposing\n      of themselves and of their servants and children, the city and\n      its adjacent parts would be so effectually evacuated that there\n      would not be above a tenth part of its people left together for\n      the disease to take hold upon. But suppose them to be a fifth\n      part, and that two hundred and fifty thousand people were left:\n      and if it did seize upon them, they would, by their living so\n      much at large, be much better prepared to defend themselves\n      against the infection, and be less liable to the effects of it\n      than if the same number of people lived close together in one\n      smaller city such as Dublin or Amsterdam or the like.\n      It is true hundreds, yea, thousands of families fled away at this\n      last plague, but then of them, many fled too late, and not only\n      died in their flight, but carried the distemper with them into\n      the countries where they went and infected those whom they went\n      among for safety; which confounded the thing, and made that be a\n      propagation of the distemper which was the best means to prevent\n      it; and this too is an evidence of it, and brings me back to what\n      I only hinted at before, but must speak more fully to here,\n      namely, that men went about apparently well many days after they\n      had the taint of the disease in their vitals, and after their\n      spirits were so seized as that they could never escape it, and\n      that all the while they did so they were dangerous to others; I\n      say, this proves that so it was; for such people infected the\n      very towns they went through, as well as the families they went\n      among; and it was by that means that almost all the great towns\n      in England had the distemper among them, more or less, and always\n      they would tell you such a Londoner or such a Londoner brought it\n      It must not be omitted that when I speak of those people who were\n      really thus dangerous, I suppose them to be utterly ignorant of\n      their own conditions; for if they really knew their circumstances\n      to be such as indeed they were, they must have been a kind of\n      wilful murtherers if they would have gone abroad among healthy\n      people\u2014and it would have verified indeed the suggestion which I\n      mentioned above, and which I thought seemed untrue: viz., that\n      the infected people were utterly careless as to giving the\n      infection to others, and rather forward to do it than not; and I\n      believe it was partly from this very thing that they raised that\n      suggestion, which I hope was not really true in fact.\n      I confess no particular case is sufficient to prove a general,\n      but I could name several people within the knowledge of some of\n      their neighbours and families yet living who showed the contrary\n      to an extreme. One man, a master of a family in my neighbourhood,\n      having had the distemper, he thought he had it given him by a\n      poor workman whom he employed, and whom he went to his house to\n      see, or went for some work that he wanted to have finished; and\n      he had some apprehensions even while he was at the poor workman\u2019s\n      door, but did not discover it fully; but the next day it\n      discovered itself, and he was taken very in, upon which he\n      immediately caused himself to be carried into an outbuilding\n      which he had in his yard, and where there was a chamber over a\n      workhouse (the man being a brazier). Here he lay, and here he\n      died, and would be tended by none of his neighbours, but by a\n      nurse from abroad; and would not suffer his wife, nor children,\n      nor servants to come up into the room, lest they should be\n      infected\u2014but sent them his blessing and prayers for them by the\n      nurse, who spoke it to them at a distance, and all this for fear\n      of giving them the distemper; and without which he knew, as they\n      were kept up, they could not have it.\n      And here I must observe also that the plague, as I suppose all\n      distempers do, operated in a different manner on differing\n      constitutions; some were immediately overwhelmed with it, and it\n      came to violent fevers, vomitings, insufferable headaches, pains\n      in the back, and so up to ravings and ragings with those pains;\n      others with swellings and tumours in the neck or groin, or\n      armpits, which till they could be broke put them into\n      insufferable agonies and torment; while others, as I have\n      observed, were silently infected, the fever preying upon their\n      spirits insensibly, and they seeing little of it till they fell\n      into swooning, and faintings, and death without pain. I am not\n      physician enough to enter into the particular reasons and manner\n      of these differing effects of one and the same distemper, and of\n      its differing operation in several bodies; nor is it my business\n      here to record the observations which I really made, because the\n      doctors themselves have done that part much more effectually than\n      I can do, and because my opinion may in some things differ from\n      theirs. I am only relating what I know, or have heard, or believe\n      of the particular cases, and what fell within the compass of my\n      view, and the different nature of the infection as it appeared in\n      the particular cases which I have related; but this may be added\n      too: that though the former sort of those cases, namely, those\n      openly visited, were the worst for themselves as to pain\u2014I mean\n      those that had such fevers, vomitings, headaches, pains, and\n      swellings, because they died in such a dreadful manner\u2014yet the\n      latter had the worst state of the disease; for in the former they\n      frequently recovered, especially if the swellings broke; but the\n      latter was inevitable death; no cure, no help, could be possible,\n      nothing could follow but death. And it was worse also to others,\n      because, as above, it secretly and unperceived by others or by\n      themselves, communicated death to those they conversed with, the\n      penetrating poison insinuating itself into their blood in a\n      manner which it is impossible to describe, or indeed conceive.\n      This infecting and being infected without so much as its being\n      known to either person is evident from two sorts of cases which\n      frequently happened at that time; and there is hardly anybody\n      living who was in London during the infection but must have known\n      several of the cases of both sorts.\n      (1) Fathers and mothers have gone about as if they had been well,\n      and have believed themselves to be so, till they have insensibly\n      infected and been the destruction of their whole families, which\n      they would have been far from doing if they had the least\n      apprehensions of their being unsound and dangerous themselves. A\n      family, whose story I have heard, was thus infected by the\n      father; and the distemper began to appear upon some of them even\n      before he found it upon himself. But searching more narrowly, it\n      appeared he had been affected some time; and as soon as he found\n      that his family had been poisoned by himself he went distracted,\n      and would have laid violent hands upon himself, but was kept from\n      that by those who looked to him, and in a few days died.\n      (2) The other particular is, that many people having been well to\n      the best of their own judgement, or by the best observation which\n      they could make of themselves for several days, and only finding\n      a decay of appetite, or a light sickness upon their stomachs;\n      nay, some whose appetite has been strong, and even craving, and\n      only a light pain in their heads, have sent for physicians to\n      know what ailed them, and have been found, to their great\n      surprise, at the brink of death: the tokens upon them, or the\n      plague grown up to an incurable height.\n      It was very sad to reflect how such a person as this last\n      mentioned above had been a walking destroyer perhaps for a week\n      or a fortnight before that; how he had ruined those that he would\n      have hazarded his life to save, and had been breathing death upon\n      them, even perhaps in his tender kissing and embracings of his\n      own children. Yet thus certainly it was, and often has been, and\n      I could give many particular cases where it has been so. If then\n      the blow is thus insensibly striking\u2014if the arrow flies thus\n      unseen, and cannot be discovered\u2014to what purpose are all the\n      schemes for shutting up or removing the sick people? Those\n      schemes cannot take place but upon those that appear to be sick,\n      or to be infected; whereas there are among them at the same time\n      thousands of people who seem to be well, but are all that while\n      carrying death with them into all companies which they come into.\n      This frequently puzzled our physicians, and especially the\n      apothecaries and surgeons, who knew not how to discover the sick\n      from the sound; they all allowed that it was really so, that many\n      people had the plague in their very blood, and preying upon their\n      spirits, and were in themselves but walking putrefied carcases\n      whose breath was infectious and their sweat poison, and yet were\n      as well to look on as other people, and even knew it not\n      themselves; I say, they all allowed that it was really true in\n      fact, but they knew not how to propose a discovery.\n      My friend Dr Heath was of opinion that it might be known by the\n      smell of their breath; but then, as he said, who durst smell to\n      that breath for his information? since, to know it, he must draw\n      the stench of the plague up into his own brain, in order to\n      distinguish the smell! I have heard it was the opinion of others\n      that it might be distinguished by the party\u2019s breathing upon a\n      piece of glass, where, the breath condensing, there might living\n      creatures be seen by a microscope, of strange, monstrous, and\n      frightful shapes, such as dragons, snakes, serpents, and devils,\n      horrible to behold. But this I very much question the truth of,\n      and we had no microscopes at that time, as I remember, to make\n      the experiment with.\n      It was the opinion also of another learned man, that the breath\n      of such a person would poison and instantly kill a bird; not only\n      a small bird, but even a cock or hen, and that, if it did not\n      immediately kill the latter, it would cause them to be roupy, as\n      they call it; particularly that if they had laid any eggs at any\n      time, they would be all rotten. But those are opinions which I\n      never found supported by any experiments, or heard of others that\n      had seen it; so I leave them as I find them; only with this\n      remark, namely, that I think the probabilities are very strong\n      for them.\n      Some have proposed that such persons should breathe hard upon\n      warm water, and that they would leave an unusual scum upon it, or\n      upon several other things, especially such as are of a glutinous\n      substance and are apt to receive a scum and support it.\n      But from the whole I found that the nature of this contagion was\n      such that it was impossible to discover it at all, or to prevent\n      its spreading from one to another by any human skill.\n      Here was indeed one difficulty which I could never thoroughly get\n      over to this time, and which there is but one way of answering\n      that I know of, and it is this, viz., the first person that died\n      of the plague was on December 20, or thereabouts, 1664, and in or\n      about long Acre; whence the first person had the infection was\n      generally said to be from a parcel of silks imported from\n      Holland, and first opened in that house.\n      But after this we heard no more of any person dying of the\n      plague, or of the distemper being in that place, till the 9th of\n      February, which was about seven weeks after, and then one more\n      was buried out of the same house. Then it was hushed, and we were\n      perfectly easy as to the public for a great while; for there were\n      no more entered in the weekly bill to be dead of the plague till\n      the 22nd of April, when there was two more buried, not out of the\n      same house, but out of the same street; and, as near as I can\n      remember, it was out of the next house to the first. This was\n      nine weeks asunder, and after this we had no more till a\n      fortnight, and then it broke out in several streets and spread\n      every way. Now the question seems to lie thus: Where lay the\n      seeds of the infection all this while? How came it to stop so\n      long, and not stop any longer? Either the distemper did not come\n      immediately by contagion from body to body, or, if it did, then a\n      body may be capable to continue infected without the disease\n      discovering itself many days, nay, weeks together; even not a\n      quarantine of days only, but soixantine; not only forty days, but\n      sixty days or longer.\n      It is true there was, as I observed at first, and is well known\n      to many yet living, a very cold winter and a long frost which\n      continued three months; and this, the doctors say, might check\n      the infection; but then the learned must allow me to say that if,\n      according to their notion, the disease was (as I may say) only\n      frozen up, it would like a frozen river have returned to its\n      usual force and current when it thawed\u2014whereas the principal\n      recess of this infection, which was from February to April, was\n      after the frost was broken and the weather mild and warm.\n      But there is another way of solving all this difficulty, which I\n      think my own remembrance of the thing will supply; and that is,\n      the fact is not granted\u2014namely, that there died none in those\n      long intervals, viz., from the 20th of December to the 9th of\n      February, and from thence to the 22nd of April. The weekly bills\n      are the only evidence on the other side, and those bills were not\n      of credit enough, at least with me, to support an hypothesis or\n      determine a question of such importance as this; for it was our\n      received opinion at that time, and I believe upon very good\n      grounds, that the fraud lay in the parish officers, searchers,\n      and persons appointed to give account of the dead, and what\n      diseases they died of; and as people were very loth at first to\n      have the neighbours believe their houses were infected, so they\n      gave money to procure, or otherwise procured, the dead persons to\n      be returned as dying of other distempers; and this I know was\n      practised afterwards in many places, I believe I might say in all\n      places where the distemper came, as will be seen by the vast\n      increase of the numbers placed in the weekly bills under other\n      articles of diseases during the time of the infection. For\n      example, in the months of July and August, when the plague was\n      coming on to its highest pitch, it was very ordinary to have from\n      a thousand to twelve hundred, nay, to almost fifteen hundred a\n      week of other distempers. Not that the numbers of those\n      distempers were really increased to such a degree, but the great\n      number of families and houses where really the infection was,\n      obtained the favour to have their dead be returned of other\n      distempers, to prevent the shutting up their houses. For\n      example:\u2014\n     Dead of other diseases beside the plague\u2014\n      Now it was not doubted but the greatest part of these, or a great\n      part of them, were dead of the plague, but the officers were\n      prevailed with to return them as above, and the numbers of some\n      particular articles of distempers discovered is as follows:\u2014\n      Aug.    Aug.    Aug.    Aug.    Aug.    Sept.  Sept.   Sept.\n     Fever\n      There were several other articles which bore a proportion to\n      these, and which, it is easy to perceive, were increased on the\n      same account, as aged, consumptions, vomitings, imposthumes,\n      gripes, and the like, many of which were not doubted to be\n      infected people; but as it was of the utmost consequence to\n      families not to be known to be infected, if it was possible to\n      avoid it, so they took all the measures they could to have it not\n      believed, and if any died in their houses, to get them returned\n      to the examiners, and by the searchers, as having died of other\n      distempers.\n      This, I say, will account for the long interval which, as I have\n      said, was between the dying of the first persons that were\n      returned in the bill to be dead of the plague and the time when\n      the distemper spread openly and could not be concealed.\n      Besides, the weekly bills themselves at that time evidently\n      discover the truth; for, while there was no mention of the\n      plague, and no increase after it had been mentioned, yet it was\n      apparent that there was an increase of those distempers which\n      bordered nearest upon it; for example, there were eight, twelve,\n      seventeen of the spotted fever in a week, when there were none,\n      or but very few, of the plague; whereas before, one, three, or\n      four were the ordinary weekly numbers of that distemper.\n      Likewise, as I observed before, the burials increased weekly in\n      that particular parish and the parishes adjacent more than in any\n      other parish, although there were none set down of the plague;\n      all which tells us, that the infection was handed on, and the\n      succession of the distemper really preserved, though it seemed to\n      us at that time to be ceased, and to come again in a manner\n      surprising.\n      It might be, also, that the infection might remain in other parts\n      of the same parcel of goods which at first it came in, and which\n      might not be perhaps opened, or at least not fully, or in the\n      clothes of the first infected person; for I cannot think that\n      anybody could be seized with the contagion in a fatal and mortal\n      degree for nine weeks together, and support his state of health\n      so well as even not to discover it to themselves; yet if it were\n      so, the argument is the stronger in favour of what I am saying:\n      namely, that the infection is retained in bodies apparently well,\n      and conveyed from them to those they converse with, while it is\n      known to neither the one nor the other.\n      Great were the confusions at that time upon this very account,\n      and when people began to be convinced that the infection was\n      received in this surprising manner from persons apparently well,\n      they began to be exceeding shy and jealous of every one that came\n      near them. Once, on a public day, whether a Sabbath-day or not I\n      do not remember, in Aldgate Church, in a pew full of people, on a\n      sudden one fancied she smelt an ill smell. Immediately she\n      fancies the plague was in the pew, whispers her notion or\n      suspicion to the next, then rises and goes out of the pew. It\n      immediately took with the next, and so to them all; and every one\n      of them, and of the two or three adjoining pews, got up and went\n      out of the church, nobody knowing what it was offended them, or\n      from whom.\n      This immediately filled everybody\u2019s mouths with one preparation\n      or other, such as the old woman directed, and some perhaps as\n      physicians directed, in order to prevent infection by the breath\n      of others; insomuch that if we came to go into a church when it\n      was anything full of people, there would be such a mixture of\n      smells at the entrance that it was much more strong, though\n      perhaps not so wholesome, than if you were going into an\n      apothecary\u2019s or druggist\u2019s shop. In a word, the whole church was\n      like a smelling-bottle; in one corner it was all perfumes; in\n      another, aromatics, balsamics, and variety of drugs and herbs; in\n      another, salts and spirits, as every one was furnished for their\n      own preservation. Yet I observed that after people were\n      possessed, as I have said, with the belief, or rather assurance,\n      of the infection being thus carried on by persons apparently in\n      health, the churches and meeting-houses were much thinner of\n      people than at other times before that they used to be. For this\n      is to be said of the people of London, that during the whole time\n      of the pestilence the churches or meetings were never wholly shut\n      up, nor did the people decline coming out to the public worship\n      of God, except only in some parishes when the violence of the\n      distemper was more particularly in that parish at that time, and\n      even then no longer than it continued to be so.\n      Indeed nothing was more strange than to see with what courage the\n      people went to the public service of God, even at that time when\n      they were afraid to stir out of their own houses upon any other\n      occasion; this, I mean, before the time of desperation, which I\n      have mentioned already. This was a proof of the exceeding\n      populousness of the city at the time of the infection,\n      notwithstanding the great numbers that were gone into the country\n      at the first alarm, and that fled out into the forests and woods\n      when they were further terrified with the extraordinary increase\n      of it. For when we came to see the crowds and throngs of people\n      which appeared on the Sabbath-days at the churches, and\n      especially in those parts of the town where the plague was\n      abated, or where it was not yet come to its height, it was\n      amazing. But of this I shall speak again presently. I return in\n      the meantime to the article of infecting one another at first,\n      before people came to right notions of the infection, and of\n      infecting one another. People were only shy of those that were\n      really sick, a man with a cap upon his head, or with clothes\n      round his neck, which was the case of those that had swellings\n      there. Such was indeed frightful; but when we saw a gentleman\n      dressed, with his band on and his gloves in his hand, his hat\n      upon his head, and his hair combed, of such we had not the least\n      apprehensions, and people conversed a great while freely,\n      especially with their neighbours and such as they knew. But when\n      the physicians assured us that the danger was as well from the\n      sound (that is, the seemingly sound) as the sick, and that those\n      people who thought themselves entirely free were oftentimes the\n      most fatal, and that it came to be generally understood that\n      people were sensible of it, and of the reason of it; then, I say,\n      they began to be jealous of everybody, and a vast number of\n      people locked themselves up, so as not to come abroad into any\n      company at all, nor suffer any that had been abroad in\n      promiscuous company to come into their houses, or near them\u2014at\n      least not so near them as to be within the reach of their breath\n      or of any smell from them; and when they were obliged to converse\n      at a distance with strangers, they would always have\n      preservatives in their mouths and about their clothes to repel\n      and keep off the infection.\n      It must be acknowledged that when people began to use these\n      cautions they were less exposed to danger, and the infection did\n      not break into such houses so furiously as it did into others\n      before; and thousands of families were preserved (speaking with\n      due reserve to the direction of Divine Providence) by that means.\n      But it was impossible to beat anything into the heads of the\n      poor. They went on with the usual impetuosity of their tempers,\n      full of outcries and lamentations when taken, but madly careless\n      of themselves, foolhardy and obstinate, while they were well.\n      Where they could get employment they pushed into any kind of\n      business, the most dangerous and the most liable to infection;\n      and if they were spoken to, their answer would be, \u2018I must trust\n      to God for that; if I am taken, then I am provided for, and there\n      is an end of me\u2019, and the like. Or thus, \u2018Why, what must I do? I\n      can\u2019t starve. I had as good have the plague as perish for want. I\n      have no work; what could I do? I must do this or beg.\u2019 Suppose it\n      was burying the dead, or attending the sick, or watching infected\n      houses, which were all terrible hazards; but their tale was\n      generally the same. It is true, necessity was a very justifiable,\n      warrantable plea, and nothing could be better; but their way of\n      talk was much the same where the necessities were not the same.\n      This adventurous conduct of the poor was that which brought the\n      plague among them in a most furious manner; and this, joined to\n      the distress of their circumstances when taken, was the reason\n      why they died so by heaps; for I cannot say I could observe one\n      jot of better husbandry among them, I mean the labouring poor,\n      while they were all well and getting money than there was before,\n      but as lavish, as extravagant, and as thoughtless for tomorrow as\n      ever; so that when they came to be taken sick they were\n      immediately in the utmost distress, as well for want as for\n      sickness, as well for lack of food as lack of health.\n      This misery of the poor I had many occasions to be an eyewitness\n      of, and sometimes also of the charitable assistance that some\n      pious people daily gave to such, sending them relief and supplies\n      both of food, physic, and other help, as they found they wanted;\n      and indeed it is a debt of justice due to the temper of the\n      people of that day to take notice here, that not only great sums,\n      very great sums of money were charitably sent to the Lord Mayor\n      and aldermen for the assistance and support of the poor\n      distempered people, but abundance of private people daily\n      distributed large sums of money for their relief, and sent people\n      about to inquire into the condition of particular distressed and\n      visited families, and relieved them; nay, some pious ladies were\n      so transported with zeal in so good a work, and so confident in\n      the protection of Providence in discharge of the great duty of\n      charity, that they went about in person distributing alms to the\n      poor, and even visiting poor families, though sick and infected,\n      in their very houses, appointing nurses to attend those that\n      wanted attending, and ordering apothecaries and surgeons, the\n      first to supply them with drugs or plasters, and such things as\n      they wanted; and the last to lance and dress the swellings and\n      tumours, where such were wanting; giving their blessing to the\n      poor in substantial relief to them, as well as hearty prayers for\n      I will not undertake to say, as some do, that none of those\n      charitable people were suffered to fall under the calamity\n      itself; but this I may say, that I never knew any one of them\n      that miscarried, which I mention for the encouragement of others\n      in case of the like distress; and doubtless, if they that give to\n      the poor lend to the Lord, and He will repay them, those that\n      hazard their lives to give to the poor, and to comfort and assist\n      the poor in such a misery as this, may hope to be protected in\n      the work.\n      Nor was this charity so extraordinary eminent only in a few, but\n      (for I cannot lightly quit this point) the charity of the rich,\n      as well in the city and suburbs as from the country, was so great\n      that, in a word, a prodigious number of people who must otherwise\n      inevitably have perished for want as well as sickness were\n      supported and subsisted by it; and though I could never, nor I\n      believe any one else, come to a full knowledge of what was so\n      contributed, yet I do believe that, as I heard one say that was a\n      critical observer of that part, there was not only many thousand\n      pounds contributed, but many hundred thousand pounds, to the\n      relief of the poor of this distressed, afflicted city; nay, one\n      man affirmed to me that he could reckon up above one hundred\n      thousand pounds a week, which was distributed by the\n      churchwardens at the several parish vestries by the Lord Mayor\n      and aldermen in the several wards and precincts, and by the\n      particular direction of the court and of the justices\n      respectively in the parts where they resided, over and above the\n      private charity distributed by pious bands in the manner I speak\n      of; and this continued for many weeks together.\n      I confess this is a very great sum; but if it be true that there\n      was distributed in the parish of Cripplegate only, 17,800 in one\n      week to the relief of the poor, as I heard reported, and which I\n      really believe was true, the other may not be improbable.\n      It was doubtless to be reckoned among the many signal good\n      providences which attended this great city, and of which there\n      were many other worth recording,\u2014I say, this was a very\n      remarkable one, that it pleased God thus to move the hearts of\n      the people in all parts of the kingdom so cheerfully to\n      contribute to the relief and support of the poor at London, the\n      good consequences of which were felt many ways, and particularly\n      in preserving the lives and recovering the health of so many\n      thousands, and keeping so many thousands of families from\n      perishing and starving.\n      And now I am talking of the merciful disposition of Providence in\n      this time of calamity, I cannot but mention again, though I have\n      spoken several times of it already on other accounts, I mean that\n      of the progression of the distemper; how it began at one end of\n      the town, and proceeded gradually and slowly from one part to\n      another, and like a dark cloud that passes over our heads, which,\n      as it thickens and overcasts the air at one end, clears up at the\n      other end; so, while the plague went on raging from west to east,\n      as it went forwards east, it abated in the west, by which means\n      those parts of the town which were not seized, or who were left,\n      and where it had spent its fury, were (as it were) spared to help\n      and assist the other; whereas, had the distemper spread itself\n      over the whole city and suburbs, at once, raging in all places\n      alike, as it has done since in some places abroad, the whole body\n      of the people must have been overwhelmed, and there would have\n      died twenty thousand a day, as they say there did at Naples; nor\n      would the people have been able to have helped or assisted one\n      another.\n      For it must be observed that where the plague was in its full\n      force, there indeed the people were very miserable, and the\n      consternation was inexpressible. But a little before it reached\n      even to that place, or presently after it was gone, they were\n      quite another sort of people; and I cannot but acknowledge that\n      there was too much of that common temper of mankind to be found\n      among us all at that time, namely, to forget the deliverance when\n      the danger is past. But I shall come to speak of that part again.\n      It must not be forgot here to take some notice of the state of\n      trade during the time of this common calamity, and this with\n      respect to foreign trade, as also to our home trade.\n      As to foreign trade, there needs little to be said. The trading\n      nations of Europe were all afraid of us; no port of France, or\n      Holland, or Spain, or Italy would admit our ships or correspond\n      with us; indeed we stood on ill terms with the Dutch, and were in\n      a furious war with them, but though in a bad condition to fight\n      abroad, who had such dreadful enemies to struggle with at home.\n      Our merchants were accordingly at a full stop; their ships could\n      go nowhere\u2014that is to say, to no place abroad; their manufactures\n      and merchandise\u2014that is to say, of our growth\u2014would not be\n      touched abroad. They were as much afraid of our goods as they\n      were of our people; and indeed they had reason: for our woollen\n      manufactures are as retentive of infection as human bodies, and\n      if packed up by persons infected, would receive the infection and\n      be as dangerous to touch as a man would be that was infected; and\n      therefore, when any English vessel arrived in foreign countries,\n      if they did take the goods on shore, they always caused the bales\n      to be opened and aired in places appointed for that purpose. But\n      from London they would not suffer them to come into port, much\n      less to unlade their goods, upon any terms whatever, and this\n      strictness was especially used with them in Spain and Italy. In\n      Turkey and the islands of the Arches indeed, as they are called,\n      as well those belonging to the Turks as to the Venetians, they\n      were not so very rigid. In the first there was no obstruction at\n      all; and four ships which were then in the river loading for\n      Italy\u2014that is, for Leghorn and Naples\u2014being denied product, as\n      they call it, went on to Turkey, and were freely admitted to\n      unlade their cargo without any difficulty; only that when they\n      arrived there, some of their cargo was not fit for sale in that\n      country; and other parts of it being consigned to merchants at\n      Leghorn, the captains of the ships had no right nor any orders to\n      dispose of the goods; so that great inconveniences followed to\n      the merchants. But this was nothing but what the necessity of\n      affairs required, and the merchants at Leghorn and Naples having\n      notice given them, sent again from thence to take care of the\n      effects which were particularly consigned to those ports, and to\n      bring back in other ships such as were improper for the markets\n      at Smyrna and Scanderoon.\n      The inconveniences in Spain and Portugal were still greater, for\n      they would by no means suffer our ships, especially those from\n      London, to come into any of their ports, much less to unlade.\n      There was a report that one of our ships having by stealth\n      delivered her cargo, among which was some bales of English cloth,\n      cotton, kerseys, and such-like goods, the Spaniards caused all\n      the goods to be burned, and punished the men with death who were\n      concerned in carrying them on shore. This, I believe, was in part\n      true, though I do not affirm it; but it is not at all unlikely,\n      seeing the danger was really very great, the infection being so\n      violent in London.\n      I heard likewise that the plague was carried into those countries\n      by some of our ships, and particularly to the port of Faro in the\n      kingdom of Algarve, belonging to the King of Portugal, and that\n      several persons died of it there; but it was not confirmed.\n      On the other hand, though the Spaniards and Portuguese were so\n      shy of us, it is most certain that the plague (as has been said)\n      keeping at first much at that end of the town next Westminster,\n      the merchandising part of the town (such as the city and the\n      water-side) was perfectly sound till at least the beginning of\n      July, and the ships in the river till the beginning of August;\n      for to the 1st of July there had died but seven within the whole\n      city, and but sixty within the liberties, but one in all the\n      parishes of Stepney, Aldgate, and Whitechappel, and but two in\n      the eight parishes of Southwark. But it was the same thing\n      abroad, for the bad news was gone over the whole world that the\n      city of London was infected with the plague, and there was no\n      inquiring there how the infection proceeded, or at which part of\n      the town it was begun or was reached to.\n      Besides, after it began to spread it increased so fast, and the\n      bills grew so high all on a sudden, that it was to no purpose to\n      lessen the report of it, or endeavour to make the people abroad\n      think it better than it was; the account which the weekly bills\n      gave in was sufficient; and that there died two thousand to three\n      or four thousand a week was sufficient to alarm the whole trading\n      part of the world; and the following time, being so dreadful also\n      in the very city itself, put the whole world, I say, upon their\n      guard against it.\n      You may be sure, also, that the report of these things lost\n      nothing in the carriage. The plague was itself very terrible, and\n      the distress of the people very great, as you may observe of what\n      I have said. But the rumour was infinitely greater, and it must\n      not be wondered that our friends abroad (as my brother\u2019s\n      correspondents in particular were told there, namely, in Portugal\n      and Italy, where he chiefly traded) [said] that in London there\n      died twenty thousand in a week; that the dead bodies lay unburied\n      by heaps; that the living were not sufficient to bury the dead or\n      the sound to look after the sick; that all the kingdom was\n      infected likewise, so that it was an universal malady such as was\n      never heard of in those parts of the world; and they could hardly\n      believe us when we gave them an account how things really were,\n      and how there was not above one-tenth part of the people dead;\n      that there was 500,000, left that lived all the time in the town;\n      that now the people began to walk the streets again, and those\n      who were fled to return, there was no miss of the usual throng of\n      people in the streets, except as every family might miss their\n      relations and neighbours, and the like. I say they could not\n      believe these things; and if inquiry were now to be made in\n      Naples, or in other cities on the coast of Italy, they would tell\n      you that there was a dreadful infection in London so many years\n      ago, in which, as above, there died twenty thousand in a week,\n      &c., just as we have had it reported in London that there was a\n      plague in the city of Naples in the year 1656, in which there\n      died 20,000 people in a day, of which I have had very good\n      satisfaction that it was utterly false.\n      But these extravagant reports were very prejudicial to our trade,\n      as well as unjust and injurious in themselves, for it was a long\n      time after the plague was quite over before our trade could\n      recover itself in those parts of the world; and the Flemings and\n      Dutch (but especially the last) made very great advantages of it,\n      having all the market to themselves, and even buying our\n      manufactures in several parts of England where the plague was\n      not, and carrying them to Holland and Flanders, and from thence\n      transporting them to Spain and to Italy as if they had been of\n      their own making.\n      But they were detected sometimes and punished: that is to say,\n      their goods confiscated and ships also; for if it was true that\n      our manufactures as well as our people were infected, and that it\n      was dangerous to touch or to open and receive the smell of them,\n      then those people ran the hazard by that clandestine trade not\n      only of carrying the contagion into their own country, but also\n      of infecting the nations to whom they traded with those goods;\n      which, considering how many lives might be lost in consequence of\n      such an action, must be a trade that no men of conscience could\n      suffer themselves to be concerned in.\n      I do not take upon me to say that any harm was done, I mean of\n      that kind, by those people. But I doubt I need not make any such\n      proviso in the case of our own country; for either by our people\n      of London, or by the commerce which made their conversing with\n      all sorts of people in every country and of every considerable\n      town necessary, I say, by this means the plague was first or last\n      spread all over the kingdom, as well in London as in all the\n      cities and great towns, especially in the trading manufacturing\n      towns and seaports; so that, first or last, all the considerable\n      places in England were visited more or less, and the kingdom of\n      Ireland in some places, but not so universally. How it fared with\n      the people in Scotland I had no opportunity to inquire.\n      It is to be observed that while the plague continued so violent\n      in London, the outports, as they are called, enjoyed a very great\n      trade, especially to the adjacent countries and to our own\n      plantations. For example, the towns of Colchester, Yarmouth, and\n      Hull, on that side of England, exported to Holland and Hamburg\n      the manufactures of the adjacent countries for several months\n      after the trade with London was, as it were, entirely shut up;\n      likewise the cities of Bristol and Exeter, with the port of\n      Plymouth, had the like advantage to Spain, to the Canaries, to\n      Guinea, and to the West Indies, and particularly to Ireland; but\n      as the plague spread itself every way after it had been in London\n      to such a degree as it was in August and September, so all or\n      most of those cities and towns were infected first or last; and\n      then trade was, as it were, under a general embargo or at a full\n      stop\u2014as I shall observe further when I speak of our home trade.\n      One thing, however, must be observed: that as to ships coming in\n      from abroad (as many, you may be sure, did) some who were out in\n      all parts of the world a considerable while before, and some who\n      when they went out knew nothing of an infection, or at least of\n      one so terrible\u2014these came up the river boldly, and delivered\n      their cargoes as they were obliged to do, except just in the two\n      months of August and September, when the weight of the infection\n      lying, as I may say, all below Bridge, nobody durst appear in\n      business for a while. But as this continued but for a few weeks,\n      the homeward-bound ships, especially such whose cargoes were not\n      liable to spoil, came to an anchor for a time short of the\n      Pool,[5] or fresh-water part of the river, even as low as the\n      river Medway, where several of them ran in; and others lay at the\n      Nore, and in the Hope below Gravesend. So that by the latter end\n      of October there was a very great fleet of homeward-bound ships\n      to come up, such as the like had not been known for many years.\n [5] That part of the river where the ships lie up when they come home\n is called the Pool, and takes in all the river on both sides of the\n water, from the Tower to Cuckold\u2019s Point and Limehouse. [Footnote in\n the original.]\n      Two particular trades were carried on by water-carriage all the\n      while of the infection, and that with little or no interruption,\n      very much to the advantage and comfort of the poor distressed\n      people of the city: and those were the coasting trade for corn\n      and the Newcastle trade for coals.\n      The first of these was particularly carried on by small vessels\n      from the port of Hull and other places on the Humber, by which\n      great quantities of corn were brought in from Yorkshire and\n      Lincolnshire. The other part of this corn-trade was from Lynn, in\n      Norfolk, from Wells and Burnham, and from Yarmouth, all in the\n      same county; and the third branch was from the river Medway, and\n      from Milton, Feversham, Margate, and Sandwich, and all the other\n      little places and ports round the coast of Kent and Essex.\n      There was also a very good trade from the coast of Suffolk with\n      corn, butter, and cheese; these vessels kept a constant course of\n      trade, and without interruption came up to that market known\n      still by the name of Bear Key, where they supplied the city\n      plentifully with corn when land-carriage began to fail, and when\n      the people began to be sick of coming from many places in the\n      country.\n      This also was much of it owing to the prudence and conduct of the\n      Lord Mayor, who took such care to keep the masters and seamen\n      from danger when they came up, causing their corn to be bought\n      off at any time they wanted a market (which, however, was very\n      seldom), and causing the corn-factors immediately to unlade and\n      deliver the vessels loaden with corn, that they had very little\n      occasion to come out of their ships or vessels, the money being\n      always carried on board to them and put into a pail of vinegar\n      before it was carried.\n      The second trade was that of coals from Newcastle-upon-Tyne,\n      without which the city would have been greatly distressed; for\n      not in the streets only, but in private houses and families,\n      great quantities of coals were then burnt, even all the summer\n      long and when the weather was hottest, which was done by the\n      advice of the physicians. Some indeed opposed it, and insisted\n      that to keep the houses and rooms hot was a means to propagate\n      the temper, which was a fermentation and heat already in the\n      blood; that it was known to spread and increase in hot weather\n      and abate in cold; and therefore they alleged that all contagious\n      distempers are the worse for heat, because the contagion was\n      nourished and gained strength in hot weather, and was, as it\n      were, propagated in heat.\n      Others said they granted that heat in the climate might propagate\n      infection\u2014as sultry, hot weather fills the air with vermin and\n      nourishes innumerable numbers and kinds of venomous creatures\n      which breed in our food, in the plants, and even in our bodies,\n      by the very stench of which infection may be propagated; also\n      that heat in the air, or heat of weather, as we ordinarily call\n      it, makes bodies relax and faint, exhausts the spirits, opens the\n      pores, and makes us more apt to receive infection, or any evil\n      influence, be it from noxious pestilential vapours or any other\n      thing in the air; but that the heat of fire, and especially of\n      coal fires kept in our houses, or near us, had a quite different\n      operation; the heat being not of the same kind, but quick and\n      fierce, tending not to nourish but to consume and dissipate all\n      those noxious fumes which the other kind of heat rather exhaled\n      and stagnated than separated and burnt up. Besides, it was\n      alleged that the sulphurous and nitrous particles that are often\n      found to be in the coal, with that bituminous substance which\n      burns, are all assisting to clear and purge the air, and render\n      it wholesome and safe to breathe in after the noxious particles,\n      as above, are dispersed and burnt up.\n      The latter opinion prevailed at that time, and, as I must\n      confess, I think with good reason; and the experience of the\n      citizens confirmed it, many houses which had constant fires kept\n      in the rooms having never been infected at all; and I must join\n      my experience to it, for I found the keeping good fires kept our\n      rooms sweet and wholesome, and I do verily believe made our whole\n      family so, more than would otherwise have been.\n      But I return to the coals as a trade. It was with no little\n      difficulty that this trade was kept open, and particularly\n      because, as we were in an open war with the Dutch at that time,\n      the Dutch capers at first took a great many of our collier-ships,\n      which made the rest cautious, and made them to stay to come in\n      fleets together. But after some time the capers were either\n      afraid to take them, or their masters, the States, were afraid\n      they should, and forbade them, lest the plague should be among\n      them, which made them fare the better.\n      For the security of those northern traders, the coal-ships were\n      ordered by my Lord Mayor not to come up into the Pool above a\n      certain number at a time, and ordered lighters and other vessels\n      such as the woodmongers (that is, the wharf-keepers or\n      coal-sellers) furnished, to go down and take out the coals as low\n      as Deptford and Greenwich, and some farther down.\n      Others delivered great quantities of coals in particular places\n      where the ships could come to the shore, as at Greenwich,\n      Blackwall, and other places, in vast heaps, as if to be kept for\n      sale; but were then fetched away after the ships which brought\n      them were gone, so that the seamen had no communication with the\n      river-men, nor so much as came near one another.\n      Yet all this caution could not effectually prevent the distemper\n      getting among the colliery: that is to say among the ships, by\n      which a great many seamen died of it; and that which was still\n      worse was, that they carried it down to Ipswich and Yarmouth, to\n      Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and other places on the coast\u2014where,\n      especially at Newcastle and at Sunderland, it carried off a great\n      number of people.\n      The making so many fires, as above, did indeed consume an unusual\n      quantity of coals; and that upon one or two stops of the ships\n      coming up, whether by contrary weather or by the interruption of\n      enemies I do not remember, but the price of coals was exceeding\n      dear, even as high as 4 l. a chalder; but it soon abated when the\n      ships came in, and as afterwards they had a freer passage, the\n      price was very reasonable all the rest of that year.\n      The public fires which were made on these occasions, as I have\n      calculated it, must necessarily have cost the city about 200\n      chalders of coals a week, if they had continued, which was indeed\n      a very great quantity; but as it was thought necessary, nothing\n      was spared. However, as some of the physicians cried them down,\n      they were not kept alight above four or five days. The fires were\n      ordered thus:\u2014\n      One at the Custom House, one at Billingsgate, one at Queenhith,\n      and one at the Three Cranes; one in Blackfriars, and one at the\n      gate of Bridewell; one at the corner of Leadenhal Street and\n      Gracechurch; one at the north and one at the south gate of the\n      Royal Exchange; one at Guild Hall, and one at Blackwell Hall\n      gate; one at the Lord Mayor\u2019s door in St Helen\u2019s, one at the west\n      entrance into St Paul\u2019s, and one at the entrance into Bow Church.\n      I do not remember whether there was any at the city gates, but\n      one at the Bridge-foot there was, just by St Magnus Church.\n      I know some have quarrelled since that at the experiment, and\n      said that there died the more people because of those fires; but\n      I am persuaded those that say so offer no evidence to prove it,\n      neither can I believe it on any account whatever.\n      It remains to give some account of the state of trade at home in\n      England during this dreadful time, and particularly as it relates\n      to the manufactures and the trade in the city. At the first\n      breaking out of the infection there was, as it is easy to\n      suppose, a very great fright among the people, and consequently a\n      general stop of trade, except in provisions and necessaries of\n      life; and even in those things, as there was a vast number of\n      people fled and a very great number always sick, besides the\n      number which died, so there could not be above two-thirds, if\n      above one-half, of the consumption of provisions in the city as\n      used to be.\n      It pleased God to send a very plentiful year of corn and fruit,\n      but not of hay or grass\u2014by which means bread was cheap, by reason\n      of the plenty of corn. Flesh was cheap, by reason of the scarcity\n      of grass; but butter and cheese were dear for the same reason,\n      and hay in the market just beyond Whitechappel Bars was sold at 4\n      pound per load. But that affected not the poor. There was a most\n      excessive plenty of all sorts of fruit, such as apples, pears,\n      plums, cherries, grapes, and they were the cheaper because of the\n      want of people; but this made the poor eat them to excess, and\n      this brought them into fluxes, griping of the guts, surfeits, and\n      the like, which often precipitated them into the plague.\n      But to come to matters of trade. First, foreign exportation being\n      stopped or at least very much interrupted and rendered difficult,\n      a general stop of all those manufactures followed of course which\n      were usually brought for exportation; and though sometimes\n      merchants abroad were importunate for goods, yet little was sent,\n      the passages being so generally stopped that the English ships\n      would not be admitted, as is said already, into their port.\n      This put a stop to the manufactures that were for exportation in\n      most parts of England, except in some out-ports; and even that\n      was soon stopped, for they all had the plague in their turn. But\n      though this was felt all over England, yet, what was still worse,\n      all intercourse of trade for home consumption of manufactures,\n      especially those which usually circulated through the Londoner\u2019s\n      hands, was stopped at once, the trade of the city being stopped.\n      All kinds of handicrafts in the city, &c., tradesmen and\n      mechanics, were, as I have said before, out of employ; and this\n      occasioned the putting-off and dismissing an innumerable number\n      of journeymen and workmen of all sorts, seeing nothing was done\n      relating to such trades but what might be said to be absolutely\n      necessary.\n      This caused the multitude of single people in London to be\n      unprovided for, as also families whose living depended upon the\n      labour of the heads of those families; I say, this reduced them\n      to extreme misery; and I must confess it is for the honour of the\n      city of London, and will be for many ages, as long as this is to\n      be spoken of, that they were able to supply with charitable\n      provision the wants of so many thousands of those as afterwards\n      fell sick and were distressed: so that it may be safely averred\n      that nobody perished for want, at least that the magistrates had\n      any notice given them of.\n      This stagnation of our manufacturing trade in the country would\n      have put the people there to much greater difficulties, but that\n      the master-workmen, clothiers and others, to the uttermost of\n      their stocks and strength, kept on making their goods to keep the\n      poor at work, believing that soon as the sickness should abate\n      they would have a quick demand in proportion to the decay of\n      their trade at that time. But as none but those masters that were\n      rich could do thus, and that many were poor and not able, the\n      manufacturing trade in England suffered greatly, and the poor\n      were pinched all over England by the calamity of the city of\n      London only.\n      It is true that the next year made them full amends by another\n      terrible calamity upon the city; so that the city by one calamity\n      impoverished and weakened the country, and by another calamity,\n      even terrible too of its kind, enriched the country and made them\n      again amends; for an infinite quantity of household Stuff,\n      wearing apparel, and other things, besides whole warehouses\n      filled with merchandise and manufactures such as come from all\n      parts of England, were consumed in the fire of London the next\n      year after this terrible visitation. It is incredible what a\n      trade this made all over the whole kingdom, to make good the want\n      and to supply that loss; so that, in short, all the manufacturing\n      hands in the nation were set on work, and were little enough for\n      several years to supply the market and answer the demands. All\n      foreign markets also were empty of our goods by the stop which\n      had been occasioned by the plague, and before an open trade was\n      allowed again; and the prodigious demand at home falling in,\n      joined to make a quick vent for all sort of goods; so that there\n      never was known such a trade all over England for the time as was\n      in the first seven years after the plague, and after the fire of\n      London.\n      It remains now that I should say something of the merciful part\n      of this terrible judgement. The last week in September, the\n      plague being come to its crisis, its fury began to assuage. I\n      remember my friend Dr Heath, coming to see me the week before,\n      told me he was sure that the violence of it would assuage in a\n      few days; but when I saw the weekly bill of that week, which was\n      the highest of the whole year, being 8297 of all diseases, I\n      upbraided him with it, and asked him what he had made his\n      judgement from. His answer, however, was not so much to seek as I\n      thought it would have been. \u2018Look you,\u2019 says he, \u2018by the number\n      which are at this time sick and infected, there should have been\n      twenty thousand dead the last week instead of eight thousand, if\n      the inveterate mortal contagion had been as it was two weeks ago;\n      for then it ordinarily killed in two or three days, now not under\n      eight or ten; and then not above one in five recovered, whereas I\n      have observed that now not above two in five miscarry. And,\n      observe it from me, the next bill will decrease, and you will see\n      many more people recover than used to do; for though a vast\n      multitude are now everywhere infected, and as many every day fall\n      sick, yet there will not so many die as there did, for the\n      malignity of the distemper is abated\u2019;\u2014adding that he began now\n      to hope, nay, more than hope, that the infection had passed its\n      crisis and was going off; and accordingly so it was, for the next\n      week being, as I said, the last in September, the bill decreased\n      almost two thousand.\n      It is true the plague was still at a frightful height, and the\n      next bill was no less than 6460, and the next to that, 5720; but\n      still my friend\u2019s observation was just, and it did appear the\n      people did recover faster and more in number than they used to\n      do; and indeed, if it had not been so, what had been the\n      condition of the city of London? For, according to my friend,\n      there were not fewer than 60,000 people at that time infected,\n      whereof, as above, 20,477 died, and near 40,000 recovered;\n      whereas, had it been as it was before, 50,000 of that number\n      would very probably have died, if not more, and 50,000 more would\n      have sickened; for, in a word, the whole mass of people began to\n      sicken, and it looked as if none would escape.\n      But this remark of my friend\u2019s appeared more evident in a few\n      weeks more, for the decrease went on, and another week in October\n      it decreased 1843, so that the number dead of the plague was but\n      2665; and the next week it decreased 1413 more, and yet it was\n      seen plainly that there was abundance of people sick, nay,\n      abundance more than ordinary, and abundance fell sick every day\n      but (as above) the malignity of the disease abated.\n      Such is the precipitant disposition of our people (whether it is\n      so or not all over the world, that\u2019s none of my particular\n      business to inquire), but I saw it apparently here, that as upon\n      the first fright of the infection they shunned one another, and\n      fled from one another\u2019s houses and from the city with an\n      unaccountable and, as I thought, unnecessary fright, so now, upon\n      this notion spreading, viz., that the distemper was not so\n      catching as formerly, and that if it was catched it was not so\n      mortal, and seeing abundance of people who really fell sick\n      recover again daily, they took to such a precipitant courage, and\n      grew so entirely regardless of themselves and of the infection,\n      that they made no more of the plague than of an ordinary fever,\n      nor indeed so much. They not only went boldly into company with\n      those who had tumours and carbuncles upon them that were running,\n      and consequently contagious, but ate and drank with them, nay,\n      into their houses to visit them, and even, as I was told, into\n      their very chambers where they lay sick.\n      This I could not see rational. My friend Dr Heath allowed, and it\n      was plain to experience, that the distemper was as catching as\n      ever, and as many fell sick, but only he alleged that so many of\n      those that fell sick did not die; but I think that while many did\n      die, and that at best the distemper itself was very terrible, the\n      sores and swellings very tormenting, and the danger of death not\n      left out of the circumstances of sickness, though not so frequent\n      as before; all those things, together with the exceeding\n      tediousness of the cure, the loathsomeness of the disease, and\n      many other articles, were enough to deter any man living from a\n      dangerous mixture with the sick people, and make them as anxious\n      almost to avoid the infections as before.\n      Nay, there was another thing which made the mere catching of the\n      distemper frightful, and that was the terrible burning of the\n      caustics which the surgeons laid on the swellings to bring them\n      to break and to run, without which the danger of death was very\n      great, even to the last. Also, the insufferable torment of the\n      swellings, which, though it might not make people raving and\n      distracted, as they were before, and as I have given several\n      instances of already, yet they put the patient to inexpressible\n      torment; and those that fell into it, though they did escape with\n      life, yet they made bitter complaints of those that had told them\n      there was no danger, and sadly repented their rashness and folly\n      in venturing to run into the reach of it.\n      Nor did this unwary conduct of the people end here, for a great\n      many that thus cast off their cautions suffered more deeply\n      still, and though many escaped, yet many died; and at least it\n      had this public mischief attending it, that it made the decrease\n      of burials slower than it would otherwise have been. For as this\n      notion ran like lightning through the city, and people\u2019s heads\n      were possessed with it, even as soon as the first great decrease\n      in the bills appeared, we found that the two next bills did not\n      decrease in proportion; the reason I take to be the people\u2019s\n      running so rashly into danger, giving up all their former\n      cautions and care, and all the shyness which they used to\n      practise, depending that the sickness would not reach them\u2014or\n      that if it did, they should not die.\n      The physicians opposed this thoughtless humour of the people with\n      all their might, and gave out printed directions, spreading them\n      all over the city and suburbs, advising the people to continue\n      reserved, and to use still the utmost caution in their ordinary\n      conduct, notwithstanding the decrease of the distemper,\n      terrifying them with the danger of bringing a relapse upon the\n      whole city, and telling them how such a relapse might be more\n      fatal and dangerous than the whole visitation that had been\n      already; with many arguments and reasons to explain and prove\n      that part to them, and which are too long to repeat here.\n      But it was all to no purpose; the audacious creatures were so\n      possessed with the first joy and so surprised with the\n      satisfaction of seeing a vast decrease in the weekly bills, that\n      they were impenetrable by any new terrors, and would not be\n      persuaded but that the bitterness of death was past; and it was\n      to no more purpose to talk to them than to an east wind; but they\n      opened shops, went about streets, did business, and conversed\n      with anybody that came in their way to converse with, whether\n      with business or without, neither inquiring of their health or so\n      much as being apprehensive of any danger from them, though they\n      knew them not to be sound.\n      This imprudent, rash conduct cost a great many their lives who\n      had with great care and caution shut themselves up and kept\n      retired, as it were, from all mankind, and had by that means,\n      under God\u2019s providence, been preserved through all the heat of\n      that infection.\n      This rash and foolish conduct, I say, of the people went so far\n      that the ministers took notice to them of it at last, and laid\n      before them both the folly and danger of it; and this checked it\n      a little, so that they grew more cautious. But it had another\n      effect, which they could not check; for as the first rumour had\n      spread not over the city only, but into the country, it had the\n      like effect: and the people were so tired with being so long from\n      London, and so eager to come back, that they flocked to town\n      without fear or forecast, and began to show themselves in the\n      streets as if all the danger was over. It was indeed surprising\n      to see it, for though there died still from 1000 to 1800 a week,\n      yet the people flocked to town as if all had been well.\n      The consequence of this was, that the bills increased again 400\n      the very first week in November; and if I might believe the\n      physicians, there was above 3000 fell sick that week, most of\n      them new-comers, too.\n      One John Cock, a barber in St Martin\u2019s-le-Grand, was an eminent\n      example of this; I mean of the hasty return of the people when\n      the plague was abated. This John Cock had left the town with his\n      whole family, and locked up his house, and was gone in the\n      country, as many others did; and finding the plague so decreased\n      in November that there died but 905 per week of all diseases, he\n      ventured home again. He had in his family ten persons; that is to\n      say, himself and wife, five children, two apprentices, and a\n      maid-servant. He had not returned to his house above a week, and\n      began to open his shop and carry on his trade, but the distemper\n      broke out in his family, and within about five days they all\n      died, except one; that is to say, himself, his wife, all his five\n      children, and his two apprentices; and only the maid remained\n      alive.\n      But the mercy of God was greater to the rest than we had reason\n      to expect; for the malignity (as I have said) of the distemper\n      was spent, the contagion was exhausted, and also the winter\n      weather came on apace, and the air was clear and cold, with sharp\n      frosts; and this increasing still, most of those that had fallen\n      sick recovered, and the health of the city began to return. There\n      were indeed some returns of the distemper even in the month of\n      December, and the bills increased near a hundred; but it went off\n      again, and so in a short while things began to return to their\n      own channel. And wonderful it was to see how populous the city\n      was again all on a sudden, so that a stranger could not miss the\n      numbers that were lost. Neither was there any miss of the\n      inhabitants as to their dwellings\u2014few or no empty houses were to\n      be seen, or if there were some, there was no want of tenants for\n      I wish I could say that as the city had a new face, so the\n      manners of the people had a new appearance. I doubt not but there\n      were many that retained a sincere sense of their deliverance, and\n      were that heartily thankful to that Sovereign Hand that had\n      protected them in so dangerous a time; it would be very\n      uncharitable to judge otherwise in a city so populous, and where\n      the people were so devout as they were here in the time of the\n      visitation itself; but except what of this was to be found in\n      particular families and faces, it must be acknowledged that the\n      general practice of the people was just as it was before, and\n      very little difference was to be seen.\n      Some, indeed, said things were worse; that the morals of the\n      people declined from this very time; that the people, hardened by\n      the danger they had been in, like seamen after a storm is over,\n      were more wicked and more stupid, more bold and hardened, in\n      their vices and immoralities than they were before; but I will\n      not carry it so far neither. It would take up a history of no\n      small length to give a particular of all the gradations by which\n      the course of things in this city came to be restored again, and\n      to run in their own channel as they did before.\n      Some parts of England were now infected as violently as London\n      had been; the cities of Norwich, Peterborough, Lincoln,\n      Colchester, and other places were now visited; and the\n      magistrates of London began to set rules for our conduct as to\n      corresponding with those cities. It is true we could not pretend\n      to forbid their people coming to London, because it was\n      impossible to know them asunder; so, after many consultations,\n      the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen were obliged to drop it. All\n      they could do was to warn and caution the people not to entertain\n      in their houses or converse with any people who they knew came\n      from such infected places.\n      But they might as well have talked to the air, for the people of\n      London thought themselves so plague-free now that they were past\n      all admonitions; they seemed to depend upon it that the air was\n      restored, and that the air was like a man that had had the\n      smallpox, not capable of being infected again. This revived that\n      notion that the infection was all in the air, that there was no\n      such thing as contagion from the sick people to the sound; and so\n      strongly did this whimsy prevail among people that they ran all\n      together promiscuously, sick and well. Not the Mahometans, who,\n      prepossessed with the principle of predestination, value nothing\n      of contagion, let it be in what it will, could be more obstinate\n      than the people of London; they that were perfectly sound, and\n      came out of the wholesome air, as we call it, into the city, made\n      nothing of going into the same houses and chambers, nay, even\n      into the same beds, with those that had the distemper upon them,\n      and were not recovered.\n      Some, indeed, paid for their audacious boldness with the price of\n      their lives; an infinite number fell sick, and the physicians had\n      more work than ever, only with this difference, that more of\n      their patients recovered; that is to say, they generally\n      recovered, but certainly there were more people infected and fell\n      sick now, when there did not die above a thousand or twelve\n      hundred in a week, than there was when there died five or six\n      thousand a week, so entirely negligent were the people at that\n      time in the great and dangerous case of health and infection, and\n      so ill were they able to take or accept of the advice of those\n      who cautioned them for their good.\n      The people being thus returned, as it were, in general, it was\n      very strange to find that in their inquiring after their friends,\n      some whole families were so entirely swept away that there was no\n      remembrance of them left, neither was anybody to be found to\n      possess or show any title to that little they had left; for in\n      such cases what was to be found was generally embezzled and\n      purloined, some gone one way, some another.\n      It was said such abandoned effects came to the king, as the\n      universal heir; upon which we are told, and I suppose it was in\n      part true, that the king granted all such, as deodands, to the\n      Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen of London, to be applied to the\n      use of the poor, of whom there were very many. For it is to be\n      observed, that though the occasions of relief and the objects of\n      distress were very many more in the time of the violence of the\n      plague than now after all was over, yet the distress of the poor\n      was more now a great deal than it was then, because all the\n      sluices of general charity were now shut. People supposed the\n      main occasion to be over, and so stopped their hands; whereas\n      particular objects were still very moving, and the distress of\n      those that were poor was very great indeed.\n      Though the health of the city was now very much restored, yet\n      foreign trade did not begin to stir, neither would foreigners\n      admit our ships into their ports for a great while. As for the\n      Dutch, the misunderstandings between our court and them had\n      broken out into a war the year before, so that our trade that way\n      was wholly interrupted; but Spain and Portugal, Italy and\n      Barbary, as also Hamburg and all the ports in the Baltic, these\n      were all shy of us a great while, and would not restore trade\n      with us for many months.\n      The distemper sweeping away such multitudes, as I have observed,\n      many if not all the out-parishes were obliged to make new\n      burying-grounds, besides that I have mentioned in Bunhill Fields,\n      some of which were continued, and remain in use to this day. But\n      others were left off, and (which I confess I mention with some\n      reflection) being converted into other uses or built upon\n      afterwards, the dead bodies were disturbed, abused, dug up again,\n      some even before the flesh of them was perished from the bones,\n      and removed like dung or rubbish to other places. Some of those\n      which came within the reach of my observation are as follow:\n      (1) A piece of ground beyond Goswell Street, near Mount Mill,\n      being some of the remains of the old lines or fortifications of\n      the city, where abundance were buried promiscuously from the\n      parishes of Aldersgate, Clerkenwell, and even out of the city.\n      This ground, as I take it, was since made a physic garden, and\n      after that has been built upon.\n      (2) A piece of ground just over the Black Ditch, as it was then\n      called, at the end of Holloway Lane, in Shoreditch parish. It has\n      been since made a yard for keeping hogs, and for other ordinary\n      uses, but is quite out of use as a burying-ground.\n      (3) The upper end of Hand Alley, in Bishopsgate Street, which was\n      then a green field, and was taken in particularly for Bishopsgate\n      parish, though many of the carts out of the city brought their\n      dead thither also, particularly out of the parish of St\n      All-hallows on the Wall. This place I cannot mention without much\n      regret. It was, as I remember, about two or three years after the\n      plague was ceased that Sir Robert Clayton came to be possessed of\n      the ground. It was reported, how true I know not, that it fell to\n      the king for want of heirs, all those who had any right to it\n      being carried off by the pestilence, and that Sir Robert Clayton\n      obtained a grant of it from King Charles II. But however he came\n      by it, certain it is the ground was let out to build on, or built\n      upon, by his order. The first house built upon it was a large\n      fair house, still standing, which faces the street or way now\n      called Hand Alley which, though called an alley, is as wide as a\n      street. The houses in the same row with that house northward are\n      built on the very same ground where the poor people were buried,\n      and the bodies, on opening the ground for the foundations, were\n      dug up, some of them remaining so plain to be seen that the\n      women\u2019s skulls were distinguished by their long hair, and of\n      others the flesh was not quite perished; so that the people began\n      to exclaim loudly against it, and some suggested that it might\n      endanger a return of the contagion; after which the bones and\n      bodies, as fast as they came at them, were carried to another\n      part of the same ground and thrown all together into a deep pit,\n      dug on purpose, which now is to be known in that it is not built\n      on, but is a passage to another house at the upper end of Rose\n      Alley, just against the door of a meeting-house which has been\n      built there many years since; and the ground is palisadoed off\n      from the rest of the passage, in a little square; there lie the\n      bones and remains of near two thousand bodies, carried by the\n      dead carts to their grave in that one year.\n      (4) Besides this, there was a piece of ground in Moorfields; by\n      the going into the street which is now called Old Bethlem, which\n      was enlarged much, though not wholly taken in on the same\n      occasion.\n      [N.B.\u2014The author of this journal lies buried in that very ground,\n      being at his own desire, his sister having been buried there a\n      few years before.]\n      (5) Stepney parish, extending itself from the east part of London\n      to the north, even to the very edge of Shoreditch Churchyard, had\n      a piece of ground taken in to bury their dead close to the said\n      churchyard, and which for that very reason was left open, and is\n      since, I suppose, taken into the same churchyard. And they had\n      also two other burying-places in Spittlefields, one where since a\n      chapel or tabernacle has been built for ease to this great\n      parish, and another in Petticoat Lane.\n      There were no less than five other grounds made use of for the\n      parish of Stepney at that time: one where now stands the parish\n      church of St Paul, Shadwell, and the other where now stands the\n      parish church of St John\u2019s at Wapping, both which had not the\n      names of parishes at that time, but were belonging to Stepney\n      parish.\n      I could name many more, but these coming within my particular\n      knowledge, the circumstance, I thought, made it of use to record\n      them. From the whole, it may be observed that they were obliged\n      in this time of distress to take in new burying-grounds in most\n      of the out-parishes for laying the prodigious numbers of people\n      which died in so short a space of time; but why care was not\n      taken to keep those places separate from ordinary uses, that so\n      the bodies might rest undisturbed, that I cannot answer for, and\n      must confess I think it was wrong. Who were to blame I know not.\n      I should have mentioned that the Quakers had at that time also a\n      burying-ground set apart to their use, and which they still make\n      use of; and they had also a particular dead-cart to fetch their\n      dead from their houses; and the famous Solomon Eagle, who, as I\n      mentioned before, had predicted the plague as a judgement, and\n      ran naked through the streets, telling the people that it was\n      come upon them to punish them for their sins, had his own wife\n      died the very next day of the plague, and was carried, one of the\n      first in the Quakers\u2019 dead-cart, to their new burying-ground.\n      I might have thronged this account with many more remarkable\n      things which occurred in the time of the infection, and\n      particularly what passed between the Lord Mayor and the Court,\n      which was then at Oxford, and what directions were from time to\n      time received from the Government for their conduct on this\n      critical occasion. But really the Court concerned themselves so\n      little, and that little they did was of so small import, that I\n      do not see it of much moment to mention any part of it here:\n      except that of appointing a monthly fast in the city and the\n      sending the royal charity to the relief of the poor, both which I\n      have mentioned before.\n      Great was the reproach thrown on those physicians who left their\n      patients during the sickness, and now they came to town again\n      nobody cared to employ them. They were called deserters, and\n      frequently bills were set up upon their doors and written, \u2018Here\n      is a doctor to be let\u2019, so that several of those physicians were\n      fain for a while to sit still and look about them, or at least\n      remove their dwellings, and set up in new places and among new\n      acquaintance. The like was the case with the clergy, whom the\n      people were indeed very abusive to, writing verses and scandalous\n      reflections upon them, setting upon the church-door, \u2018Here is a\n      pulpit to be let\u2019, or sometimes, \u2018to be sold\u2019, which was worse.\n      It was not the least of our misfortunes that with our infection,\n      when it ceased, there did not cease the spirit of strife and\n      contention, slander and reproach, which was really the great\n      troubler of the nation\u2019s peace before. It was said to be the\n      remains of the old animosities, which had so lately involved us\n      all in blood and disorder. But as the late Act of Indemnity had\n      laid asleep the quarrel itself, so the Government had recommended\n      family and personal peace upon all occasions to the whole nation.\n      But it could not be obtained; and particularly after the ceasing\n      of the plague in London, when any one that had seen the condition\n      which the people had been in, and how they caressed one another\n      at that time, promised to have more charity for the future, and\n      to raise no more reproaches; I say, any one that had seen them\n      then would have thought they would have come together with\n      another spirit at last. But, I say, it could not be obtained. The\n      quarrel remained; the Church and the Presbyterians were\n      incompatible. As soon as the plague was removed, the Dissenting\n      ousted ministers who had supplied the pulpits which were deserted\n      by the incumbents retired; they could expect no other but that\n      they should immediately fall upon them and harass them with their\n      penal laws, accept their preaching while they were sick, and\n      persecute them as soon as they were recovered again; this even we\n      that were of the Church thought was very hard, and could by no\n      means approve of it.\n      But it was the Government, and we could say nothing to hinder it;\n      we could only say it was not our doing, and we could not answer\n      On the other hand, the Dissenters reproaching those ministers of\n      the Church with going away and deserting their charge, abandoning\n      the people in their danger, and when they had most need of\n      comfort, and the like: this we could by no means approve, for all\n      men have not the same faith and the same courage, and the\n      Scripture commands us to judge the most favourably and according\n      to charity.\n      A plague is a formidable enemy, and is armed with terrors that\n      every man is not sufficiently fortified to resist or prepared to\n      stand the shock against. It is very certain that a great many of\n      the clergy who were in circumstances to do it withdrew and fled\n      for the safety of their lives; but \u2019tis true also that a great\n      many of them stayed, and many of them fell in the calamity and in\n      the discharge of their duty.\n      It is true some of the Dissenting turned-out ministers stayed,\n      and their courage is to be commended and highly valued\u2014but these\n      were not abundance; it cannot be said that they all stayed, and\n      that none retired into the country, any more than it can be said\n      of the Church clergy that they all went away. Neither did all\n      those that went away go without substituting curates and others\n      in their places, to do the offices needful and to visit the sick,\n      as far as it was practicable; so that, upon the whole, an\n      allowance of charity might have been made on both sides, and we\n      should have considered that such a time as this of 1665 is not to\n      be paralleled in history, and that it is not the stoutest courage\n      that will always support men in such cases. I had not said this,\n      but had rather chosen to record the courage and religious zeal of\n      those of both sides, who did hazard themselves for the service of\n      the poor people in their distress, without remembering that any\n      failed in their duty on either side. But the want of temper among\n      us has made the contrary to this necessary: some that stayed not\n      only boasting too much of themselves, but reviling those that\n      fled, branding them with cowardice, deserting their flocks, and\n      acting the part of the hireling, and the like. I recommend it to\n      the charity of all good people to look back and reflect duly upon\n      the terrors of the time, and whoever does so will see that it is\n      not an ordinary strength that could support it. It was not like\n      appearing in the head of an army or charging a body of horse in\n      the field, but it was charging Death itself on his pale horse; to\n      stay was indeed to die, and it could be esteemed nothing less,\n      especially as things appeared at the latter end of August and the\n      beginning of September, and as there was reason to expect them at\n      that time; for no man expected, and I dare say believed, that the\n      distemper would take so sudden a turn as it did, and fall\n      immediately two thousand in a week, when there was such a\n      prodigious number of people sick at that time as it was known\n      there was; and then it was that many shifted away that had stayed\n      most of the time before.\n      Besides, if God gave strength to some more than to others, was it\n      to boast of their ability to abide the stroke, and upbraid those\n      that had not the same gift and support, or ought not they rather\n      to have been humble and thankful if they were rendered more\n      useful than their brethren?\n      I think it ought to be recorded to the honour of such men, as\n      well clergy as physicians, surgeons, apothecaries, magistrates,\n      and officers of every kind, as also all useful people who\n      ventured their lives in discharge of their duty, as most\n      certainly all such as stayed did to the last degree; and several\n      of all these kinds did not only venture but lose their lives on\n      that sad occasion.\n      I was once making a list of all such, I mean of all those\n      professions and employments who thus died, as I call it, in the\n      way of their duty; but it was impossible for a private man to\n      come at a certainty in the particulars. I only remember that\n      there died sixteen clergymen, two aldermen, five physicians,\n      thirteen surgeons, within the city and liberties before the\n      beginning of September. But this being, as I said before, the\n      great crisis and extremity of the infection, it can be no\n      complete list. As to inferior people, I think there died\n      six-and-forty constables and head-boroughs in the two parishes of\n      Stepney and Whitechappel; but I could not carry my list on, for\n      when the violent rage of the distemper in September came upon us,\n      it drove us out of all measures. Men did then no more die by tale\n      and by number. They might put out a weekly bill, and call them\n      seven or eight thousand, or what they pleased; \u2019tis certain they\n      died by heaps, and were buried by heaps, that is to say, without\n      account. And if I might believe some people, who were more abroad\n      and more conversant with those things than I though I was public\n      enough for one that had no more business to do than I had,\u2014I say,\n      if I may believe them, there was not many less buried those first\n      three weeks in September than 20,000 per week. However, the\n      others aver the truth of it; yet I rather choose to keep to the\n      public account; seven and eight thousand per week is enough to\n      make good all that I have said of the terror of those times;\u2014and\n      it is much to the satisfaction of me that write, as well as those\n      that read, to be able to say that everything is set down with\n      moderation, and rather within compass than beyond it.\n      Upon all these accounts, I say, I could wish, when we were\n      recovered, our conduct had been more distinguished for charity\n      and kindness in remembrance of the past calamity, and not so much\n      a valuing ourselves upon our boldness in staying, as if all men\n      were cowards that fly from the hand of God, or that those who\n      stay do not sometimes owe their courage to their ignorance, and\n      despising the hand of their Maker\u2014which is a criminal kind of\n      desperation, and not a true courage.\n      I cannot but leave it upon record that the civil officers, such\n      as constables, head-boroughs, Lord Mayor\u2019s and sheriffs\u2019-men, as\n      also parish officers, whose business it was to take charge of the\n      poor, did their duties in general with as much courage as any,\n      and perhaps with more, because their work was attended with more\n      hazards, and lay more among the poor, who were more subject to be\n      infected, and in the most pitiful plight when they were taken\n      with the infection. But then it must be added, too, that a great\n      number of them died; indeed it was scarce possible it should be\n      otherwise.\n      I have not said one word here about the physic or preparations\n      that we ordinarily made use of on this terrible occasion\u2014I mean\n      we that went frequently abroad and up down street, as I did; much\n      of this was talked of in the books and bills of our quack\n      doctors, of whom I have said enough already. It may, however, be\n      added, that the College of Physicians were daily publishing\n      several preparations, which they had considered of in the process\n      of their practice, and which, being to be had in print, I avoid\n      repeating them for that reason.\n      One thing I could not help observing: what befell one of the\n      quacks, who published that he had a most excellent preservative\n      against the plague, which whoever kept about them should never be\n      infected or liable to infection. This man, who, we may reasonably\n      suppose, did not go abroad without some of this excellent\n      preservative in his pocket, yet was taken by the distemper, and\n      carried off in two or three days.\n      I am not of the number of the physic-haters or physic-despisers;\n      on the contrary, I have often mentioned the regard I had to the\n      dictates of my particular friend Dr Heath; but yet I must\n      acknowledge I made use of little or nothing\u2014except, as I have\n      observed, to keep a preparation of strong scent to have ready, in\n      case I met with anything of offensive smells or went too near any\n      burying-place or dead body.\n      Neither did I do what I know some did: keep the spirits always\n      high and hot with cordials and wine and such things; and which,\n      as I observed, one learned physician used himself so much to as\n      that he could not leave them off when the infection was quite\n      gone, and so became a sot for all his life after.\n      I remember my friend the doctor used to say that there was a\n      certain set of drugs and preparations which were all certainly\n      good and useful in the case of an infection; out of which, or\n      with which, physicians might make an infinite variety of\n      medicines, as the ringers of bells make several hundred different\n      rounds of music by the changing and order or sound but in six\n      bells, and that all these preparations shall be really very good:\n      \u2018Therefore,\u2019 said he, \u2018I do not wonder that so vast a throng of\n      medicines is offered in the present calamity, and almost every\n      physician prescribes or prepares a different thing, as his\n      judgement or experience guides him; but\u2019, says my friend, \u2018let\n      all the prescriptions of all the physicians in London be\n      examined, and it will be found that they are all compounded of\n      the same things, with such variations only as the particular\n      fancy of the doctor leads him to; so that\u2019, says he, \u2018every man,\n      judging a little of his own constitution and manner of his\n      living, and circumstances of his being infected, may direct his\n      own medicines out of the ordinary drugs and preparations. Only\n      that\u2019, says he, \u2018some recommend one thing as most sovereign, and\n      some another. Some\u2019, says he, \u2018think that pill. ruff., which is\n      called itself the anti-pestilential pill is the best preparation\n      that can be made; others think that Venice treacle is sufficient\n      of itself to resist the contagion; and I\u2019, says he, \u2018think as\n      both these think, viz., that the last is good to take beforehand\n      to prevent it, and the first, if touched, to expel it.\u2019 According\n      to this opinion, I several times took Venice treacle, and a sound\n      sweat upon it, and thought myself as well fortified against the\n      infection as any one could be fortified by the power of physic.\n      As for quackery and mountebanks, of which the town was so full, I\n      listened to none of them, and have observed often since, with\n      some wonder, that for two years after the plague I scarcely saw\n      or heard of one of them about town. Some fancied they were all\n      swept away in the infection to a man, and were for calling it a\n      particular mark of God\u2019s vengeance upon them for leading the poor\n      people into the pit of destruction, merely for the lucre of a\n      little money they got by them; but I cannot go that length\n      neither. That abundance of them died is certain\u2014many of them came\n      within the reach of my own knowledge\u2014but that all of them were\n      swept off I much question. I believe rather they fled into the\n      country and tried their practices upon the people there, who were\n      in apprehension of the infection before it came among them.\n      This, however, is certain, not a man of them appeared for a great\n      while in or about London. There were, indeed, several doctors who\n      published bills recommending their several physical preparations\n      for cleansing the body, as they call it, after the plague, and\n      needful, as they said, for such people to take who had been\n      visited and had been cured; whereas I must own I believe that it\n      was the opinion of the most eminent physicians at that time that\n      the plague was itself a sufficient purge, and that those who\n      escaped the infection needed no physic to cleanse their bodies of\n      any other things; the running sores, the tumours, &c., which were\n      broke and kept open by the directions of the physicians, having\n      sufficiently cleansed them; and that all other distempers, and\n      causes of distempers, were effectually carried off that way; and\n      as the physicians gave this as their opinions wherever they came,\n      the quacks got little business.\n      There were, indeed, several little hurries which happened after\n      the decrease of the plague, and which, whether they were\n      contrived to fright and disorder the people, as some imagined, I\n      cannot say, but sometimes we were told the plague would return by\n      such a time; and the famous Solomon Eagle, the naked Quaker I\n      have mentioned, prophesied evil tidings every day; and several\n      others telling us that London had not been sufficiently scourged,\n      and that sorer and severer strokes were yet behind. Had they\n      stopped there, or had they descended to particulars, and told us\n      that the city should the next year be destroyed by fire, then,\n      indeed, when we had seen it come to pass, we should not have been\n      to blame to have paid more than a common respect to their\n      prophetic spirits; at least we should have wondered at them, and\n      have been more serious in our inquiries after the meaning of it,\n      and whence they had the foreknowledge. But as they generally told\n      us of a relapse into the plague, we have had no concern since\n      that about them; yet by those frequent clamours, we were all kept\n      with some kind of apprehensions constantly upon us; and if any\n      died suddenly, or if the spotted fevers at any time increased, we\n      were presently alarmed; much more if the number of the plague\n      increased, for to the end of the year there were always between\n      200 and 300 of the plague. On any of these occasions, I say, we\n      were alarmed anew.\n      Those who remember the city of London before the fire must\n      remember that there was then no such place as we now call Newgate\n      Market, but that in the middle of the street which is now called\n      Blowbladder Street, and which had its name from the butchers, who\n      used to kill and dress their sheep there (and who, it seems, had\n      a custom to blow up their meat with pipes to make it look thicker\n      and fatter than it was, and were punished there for it by the\n      Lord Mayor); I say, from the end of the street towards Newgate\n      there stood two long rows of shambles for the selling meat.\n      It was in those shambles that two persons falling down dead, as\n      they were buying meat, gave rise to a rumour that the meat was\n      all infected; which, though it might affright the people, and\n      spoiled the market for two or three days, yet it appeared plainly\n      afterwards that there was nothing of truth in the suggestion. But\n      nobody can account for the possession of fear when it takes hold\n      of the mind.\n      However, it Pleased God, by the continuing of the winter weather,\n      so to restore the health of the city that by February following\n      we reckoned the distemper quite ceased, and then we were not so\n      easily frighted again.\n      There was still a question among the learned, and at first\n      perplexed the people a little: and that was in what manner to\n      purge the house and goods where the plague had been, and how to\n      render them habitable again, which had been left empty during the\n      time of the plague. Abundance of perfumes and preparations were\n      prescribed by physicians, some of one kind and some of another,\n      in which the people who listened to them put themselves to a\n      great, and indeed, in my opinion, to an unnecessary expense; and\n      the poorer people, who only set open their windows night and day,\n      burned brimstone, pitch, and gunpowder, and such things in their\n      rooms, did as well as the best; nay, the eager people who, as I\n      said above, came home in haste and at all hazards, found little\n      or no inconvenience in their houses, nor in the goods, and did\n      little or nothing to them.\n      However, in general, prudent, cautious people did enter into some\n      measures for airing and sweetening their houses, and burned\n      perfumes, incense, benjamin, rozin, and sulphur in their rooms\n      close shut up, and then let the air carry it all out with a blast\n      of gunpowder; others caused large fires to be made all day and\n      all night for several days and nights; by the same token that two\n      or three were pleased to set their houses on fire, and so\n      effectually sweetened them by burning them down to the ground; as\n      particularly one at Ratcliff, one in Holbourn, and one at\n      Westminster; besides two or three that were set on fire, but the\n      fire was happily got out again before it went far enough to burn\n      down the houses; and one citizen\u2019s servant, I think it was in\n      Thames Street, carried so much gunpowder into his master\u2019s house,\n      for clearing it of the infection, and managed it so foolishly,\n      that he blew up part of the roof of the house. But the time was\n      not fully come that the city was to be purged by fire, nor was it\n      far off; for within nine months more I saw it all lying in ashes;\n      when, as some of our quacking philosophers pretend, the seeds of\n      the plague were entirely destroyed, and not before; a notion too\n      ridiculous to speak of here: since, had the seeds of the plague\n      remained in the houses, not to be destroyed but by fire, how has\n      it been that they have not since broken out, seeing all those\n      buildings in the suburbs and liberties, all in the great parishes\n      of Stepney, Whitechappel, Aldgate, Bishopsgate, Shoreditch,\n      Cripplegate, and St Giles, where the fire never came, and where\n      the plague raged with the greatest violence, remain still in the\n      same condition they were in before?\n      But to leave these things just as I found them, it was certain\n      that those people who were more than ordinarily cautious of their\n      health, did take particular directions for what they called\n      seasoning of their houses, and abundance of costly things were\n      consumed on that account which I cannot but say not only seasoned\n      those houses, as they desired, but filled the air with very\n      grateful and wholesome smells which others had the share of the\n      benefit of as well as those who were at the expenses of them.\n      And yet after all, though the poor came to town very\n      precipitantly, as I have said, yet I must say the rich made no\n      such haste. The men of business, indeed, came up, but many of\n      them did not bring their families to town till the spring came\n      on, and that they saw reason to depend upon it that the plague\n      would not return.\n      The Court, indeed, came up soon after Christmas, but the nobility\n      and gentry, except such as depended upon and had employment under\n      the administration, did not come so soon.\n      I should have taken notice here that, notwithstanding the\n      violence of the plague in London and in other places, yet it was\n      very observable that it was never on board the fleet; and yet for\n      some time there was a strange press in the river, and even in the\n      streets, for seamen to man the fleet. But it was in the beginning\n      of the year, when the plague was scarce begun, and not at all\n      come down to that part of the city where they usually press for\n      seamen; and though a war with the Dutch was not at all grateful\n      to the people at that time, and the seamen went with a kind of\n      reluctancy into the service, and many complained of being dragged\n      into it by force, yet it proved in the event a happy violence to\n      several of them, who had probably perished in the general\n      calamity, and who, after the summer service was over, though they\n      had cause to lament the desolation of their families\u2014who, when\n      they came back, were many of them in their graves\u2014yet they had\n      room to be thankful that they were carried out of the reach of\n      it, though so much against their wills. We indeed had a hot war\n      with the Dutch that year, and one very great engagement at sea in\n      which the Dutch were worsted, but we lost a great many men and\n      some ships. But, as I observed, the plague was not in the fleet,\n      and when they came to lay up the ships in the river the violent\n      part of it began to abate.\n      I would be glad if I could close the account of this melancholy\n      year with some particular examples historically; I mean of the\n      thankfulness to God, our preserver, for our being delivered from\n      this dreadful calamity. Certainly the circumstance of the\n      deliverance, as well as the terrible enemy we were delivered\n      from, called upon the whole nation for it. The circumstances of\n      the deliverance were indeed very remarkable, as I have in part\n      mentioned already, and particularly the dreadful condition which\n      we were all in when we were to the surprise of the whole town\n      made joyful with the hope of a stop of the infection.\n      Nothing but the immediate finger of God, nothing but omnipotent\n      power, could have done it. The contagion despised all medicine;\n      death raged in every corner; and had it gone on as it did then, a\n      few weeks more would have cleared the town of all, and everything\n      that had a soul. Men everywhere began to despair; every heart\n      failed them for fear; people were made desperate through the\n      anguish of their souls, and the terrors of death sat in the very\n      faces and countenances of the people.\n      In that very moment when we might very well say, \u2018Vain was the\n      help of man\u2019,\u2014I say, in that very moment it pleased God, with a\n      most agreeable surprise, to cause the fury of it to abate, even\n      of itself; and the malignity declining, as I have said, though\n      infinite numbers were sick, yet fewer died, and the very first\n      weeks\u2019 bill decreased 1843; a vast number indeed!\n      It is impossible to express the change that appeared in the very\n      countenances of the people that Thursday morning when the weekly\n      bill came out. It might have been perceived in their countenances\n      that a secret surprise and smile of joy sat on everybody\u2019s face.\n      They shook one another by the hands in the streets, who would\n      hardly go on the same side of the way with one another before.\n      Where the streets were not too broad they would open their\n      windows and call from one house to another, and ask how they did,\n      and if they had heard the good news that the plague was abated.\n      Some would return, when they said good news, and ask, \u2018What good\n      news?\u2019 and when they answered that the plague was abated and the\n      bills decreased almost two thousand, they would cry out, \u2018God be\n      praised!\u2019 and would weep aloud for joy, telling them they had\n      heard nothing of it; and such was the joy of the people that it\n      was, as it were, life to them from the grave. I could almost set\n      down as many extravagant things done in the excess of their joy\n      as of their grief; but that would be to lessen the value of it.\n      I must confess myself to have been very much dejected just before\n      this happened; for the prodigious number that were taken sick the\n      week or two before, besides those that died, was such, and the\n      lamentations were so great everywhere, that a man must have\n      seemed to have acted even against his reason if he had so much as\n      expected to escape; and as there was hardly a house but mine in\n      all my neighbourhood but was infected, so had it gone on it would\n      not have been long that there would have been any more neighbours\n      to be infected. Indeed it is hardly credible what dreadful havoc\n      the last three weeks had made, for if I might believe the person\n      whose calculations I always found very well grounded, there were\n      not less than 30,000 people dead and near 100,000 fallen sick in\n      the three weeks I speak of; for the number that sickened was\n      surprising, indeed it was astonishing, and those whose courage\n      upheld them all the time before, sank under it now.\n      In the middle of their distress, when the condition of the city\n      of London was so truly calamitous, just then it pleased God\u2014as it\n      were by His immediate hand to disarm this enemy; the poison was\n      taken out of the sting. It was wonderful; even the physicians\n      themselves were surprised at it. Wherever they visited they found\n      their patients better; either they had sweated kindly, or the\n      tumours were broke, or the carbuncles went down and the\n      inflammations round them changed colour, or the fever was gone,\n      or the violent headache was assuaged, or some good symptom was in\n      the case; so that in a few days everybody was recovering, whole\n      families that were infected and down, that had ministers praying\n      with them, and expected death every hour, were revived and\n      healed, and none died at all out of them.\n      Nor was this by any new medicine found out, or new method of cure\n      discovered, or by any experience in the operation which the\n      physicians or surgeons attained to; but it was evidently from the\n      secret invisible hand of Him that had at first sent this disease\n      as a judgement upon us; and let the atheistic part of mankind\n      call my saying what they please, it is no enthusiasm; it was\n      acknowledged at that time by all mankind. The disease was\n      enervated and its malignity spent; and let it proceed from\n      whencesoever it will, let the philosophers search for reasons in\n      nature to account for it by, and labour as much as they will to\n      lessen the debt they owe to their Maker, those physicians who had\n      the least share of religion in them were obliged to acknowledge\n      that it was all supernatural, that it was extraordinary, and that\n      no account could be given of it.\n      If I should say that this is a visible summons to us all to\n      thankfulness, especially we that were under the terror of its\n      increase, perhaps it may be thought by some, after the sense of\n      the thing was over, an officious canting of religious things,\n      preaching a sermon instead of writing a history, making myself a\n      teacher instead of giving my observations of things; and this\n      restrains me very much from going on here as I might otherwise\n      do. But if ten lepers were healed, and but one returned to give\n      thanks, I desire to be as that one, and to be thankful for\n      myself.\n      Nor will I deny but there were abundance of people who, to all\n      appearance, were very thankful at that time; for their mouths\n      were stopped, even the mouths of those whose hearts were not\n      extraordinary long affected with it. But the impression was so\n      strong at that time that it could not be resisted; no, not by the\n      worst of the people.\n      It was a common thing to meet people in the street that were\n      strangers, and that we knew nothing at all of, expressing their\n      surprise. Going one day through Aldgate, and a pretty many people\n      being passing and repassing, there comes a man out of the end of\n      the Minories, and looking a little up the street and down, he\n      throws his hands abroad, \u2018Lord, what an alteration is here! Why,\n      last week I came along here, and hardly anybody was to be seen.\u2019\n      Another man\u2014I heard him\u2014adds to his words, \u2018\u2019Tis all wonderful;\n      \u2019tis all a dream.\u2019 \u2018Blessed be God,\u2019 says a third man, \u2018and\n      let us give thanks to Him, for \u2019tis all His own doing, human help\n      and human skill was at an end.\u2019 These were all strangers to one\n      another. But such salutations as these were frequent in the\n      street every day; and in spite of a loose behaviour, the very\n      common people went along the streets giving God thanks for their\n      deliverance.\n      It was now, as I said before, the people had cast off all\n      apprehensions, and that too fast; indeed we were no more afraid\n      now to pass by a man with a white cap upon his head, or with a\n      cloth wrapt round his neck, or with his leg limping, occasioned\n      by the sores in his groin, all which were frightful to the last\n      degree, but the week before. But now the street was full of them,\n      and these poor recovering creatures, give them their due,\n      appeared very sensible of their unexpected deliverance; and I\n      should wrong them very much if I should not acknowledge that I\n      believe many of them were really thankful. But I must own that,\n      for the generality of the people, it might too justly be said of\n      them as was said of the children of Israel after their being\n      delivered from the host of Pharaoh, when they passed the Red Sea,\n      and looked back and saw the Egyptians overwhelmed in the water:\n      viz., that they sang His praise, but they soon forgot His works.\n      I can go no farther here. I should be counted censorious, and\n      perhaps unjust, if I should enter into the unpleasing work of\n      reflecting, whatever cause there was for it, upon the\n      unthankfulness and return of all manner of wickedness among us,\n      which I was so much an eye-witness of myself. I shall conclude\n      the account of this calamitous year therefore with a coarse but\n      sincere stanza of my own, which I placed at the end of my\n      ordinary memorandums the same year they were written:\n     A dreadful plague in London was In the year sixty-five, Which\n     swept an hundred thousand souls Away; yet I alive!\n[Illustration]\nFINIS", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  A Journal of the Plague Year\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Meredith Bach, Jane Hyland, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries.)\nROXANA\n[Illustration: _I was rich, beautiful, and agreeable, and not yet old_\nPAGE 244]\nThe Cripplegate Edition\nTHE WORKS OF DANIEL DEFOE\nTHE FORTUNATE MISTRESS\nOR A HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF MADEMOISELLE DE BELEAU\nKNOWN BY THE NAME OF THE LADY ROXANA\nNEW YORK \u00b7 \u00b7 _MCMVIII_\nGEORGE D. SPROUL\n_Copyright, 1904, by_ THE UNIVERSITY PRESS\nUNIVERSITY PRESS \u00b7 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n    THE JEWELLER IS ABOUT TO LEAVE FOR VERSAILLES           74\n    THE DUTCH MERCHANT CALLS ON ROXANA.                    286\n    ROXANA'S DAUGHTER AND THE QUAKER                       479\n    ROXANA IS CONFRONTED WITH HER DAUGHTER                 534\nINTRODUCTION\nIn March, 1724, was published the narrative in which Defoe came, perhaps\neven nearer than in _Moll Flanders_, to writing what we to-day call a\nnovel, namely: _The Fortunate Mistress; or, a History of the Life and\nVast Variety of Fortunes of Mademoiselle de' Belau; afterwards called\nthe Countess of Wintelsheim, in Germany. Being the Person known by the\nname of the Lady Roxana, in the Time of King Charles II_. No second\nedition appeared till after Defoe's death, which occurred in 1731. Then\nfor some years, various editions of _The Fortunate Mistress_ came out.\nBecause Defoe had not indicated the end of his chief characters so\nclearly as he usually did in his stories, several of these later\neditions carried on the history of the heroine. Probably none of the\ncontinuations was by Defoe himself, though the one in the edition of\n1745 has been attributed to him. For this reason, and because it has\nsome literary merit, it is included in the present edition.\nThat this continuation was not by Defoe is attested in various ways. In\nthe first place, it tells the history of Roxana down to her death in\nJuly, 1742, a date which Defoe would not have been likely to fix, for\nhe died himself in April, 1731. Moreover, the statement that she was\nsixty-four when she died, does not agree with the statement at the\nbeginning of Defoe's narrative that she was ten years old in 1683. She\nmust have been born in 1673, and consequently would have been sixty-nine\nin 1742. This discrepancy, however, ceases to be important when we\nconsider the general confusion of dates in the part of the book\ncertainly by Defoe. The title-page announces that his heroine was \"known\nby the name of the Lady Roxana, in the Time of King Charles II.\" She\nmust have been known by this name when she was a child of eleven or\ntwelve, then, for she was ten when her parents fled to England \"about\n1683,\" and Charles II. died in February, 1685. Moreover, she was not\nmarried till she was fifteen; she lived eight years with her husband;\nand then she was mistress successively to the friendly jeweller, the\nPrince, and the Dutch merchant. Yet after this career, she returned to\nLondon in time to become a noted toast among Charles II.'s courtiers and\nto entertain at her house that monarch and the Duke of Monmouth.\nA stronger argument for different authorship is the difference in style\nbetween the continuation of _Roxana_ and the earlier narrative. In the\ncontinuation Defoe's best-known mannerisms are lacking, as two instances\nwill show. Critics have often called attention to the fact that\n_fright_, instead of _frighten_, was a favourite word of Defoe. Now\n_frighten_, and not _fright_, is the verb used in the continuation.\nFurthermore, I have pointed out in a previous introduction[1] that Defoe\nwas fond of making his characters _smile_, to show either kindliness or\nshrewd penetration. They do not _smile_ in the continuation.\nThere are other differences between the original story of _The Fortunate\nMistress_ and the continuation of 1745. The former is better narrative\nthan the latter; it moves quicker; it is more real. And yet there is a\nmanifest attempt in the continuation to imitate the manner and the\nsubstance of the story proper. There is a dialogue, for example, between\nRoxana and the Quakeress, modelled on the dialogues which Defoe was so\nfond of. Again, there is a fairly successful attempt to copy Defoe's\ncircumstantiality; there is an amount of detail in the continuation\nwhich makes it more graphic than much of the fiction which has been\ngiven to the world. And finally, in understanding and reproducing the\ncharacters of Roxana and Amy, the anonymous author has done remarkably\nwell. The character of Roxana's daughter is less true to Defoe's\nconception; the girl, as he drew her, was actuated more by natural\naffection in seeking her mother, and less by interest. The character of\nthe Dutch merchant, likewise, has not changed for the better in the\ncontinuation. He has developed a vindictiveness which, in our former\nmeetings with him, seemed foreign to his nature.\nI have said that in _The Fortunate Mistress_ Defoe has come nearer than\nusual to writing what we to-day call a novel; the reason is that he has\nhad more success than usual in making his characters real. Though many\nof them are still wooden--lifeless types, rather than individuals--yet\nthe Prince, the Quakeress, and the Dutch merchant occasionally wake to\nlife; so rather more does the unfortunate daughter; and more yet, Amy\nand Roxana. With the exception of Moll Flanders, these last two are more\nvitalised than any personages Defoe invented. In this pair, furthermore,\nDefoe seems to have been interested in bringing out the contrast between\ncharacters. The servant, Amy, thrown with another mistress, might have\nbeen a totally different woman. The vulgarity of a servant she would\nhave retained under any circumstances, as she did even when promoted\nfrom being the maid to being the companion of Roxana; but it was\nunreasoning devotion to her mistress, combined with weakness of\ncharacter, which led Amy to be vicious.\nRoxana, for her part, had to the full the independence, the initiative,\nwhich her woman was without,--or rather was without when acting for\nherself; for when acting in the interests of her mistress, Amy was a\ndifferent creature. Like all of Defoe's principal characters, Roxana is\neminently practical, cold-blooded and selfish. After the first pang at\nparting with her five children, she seldom thinks of them except as\nencumbrances; she will provide for them as decently as she can without\npersonal inconvenience, but even a slight sacrifice for the sake of one\nof them is too much for her. Towards all the men with whom she has\ndealings, and towards the friendly Quakeress of the Minories, too, she\nshows a calculating reticence which is most unfeminine. The continuator\nof our story endowed the heroine with wholly characteristic selfishness\nwhen he made her, on hearing of Amy's death, feel less sorrow for the\nmiserable fate of her friend, than for her own loss of an adviser.\nAnd yet Roxana is capable of fine feeling, as is proved by those tears\nof joy for the happy change in her fortunes, which bring about that\nrealistic love scene between her and the Prince in regard to the\nsupposed paint on her cheeks. Again, when shipwreck threatens her and\nAmy, her emotion and repentance are due as much to the thought that she\nhas degraded Amy to her own level as to thoughts of her more flagrant\nsins. That she is capable of feeling gratitude, she shows in her\ngenerosity to the Quakeress. And in her rage and remorse, on suspecting\nthat her daughter has been murdered, and in her emotion several times\non seeing her children, Roxana shows herself a true woman. In short,\nthough for the most part monumentally selfish, she is yet saved from\nbeing impossible by several displays of noble emotion. One of the\nsurprises, to a student of Defoe, is that this thick-skinned, mercantile\nwriter, the vulgarest of all our great men of letters in the early\neighteenth century, seems to have known a woman's heart better than a\nman's. At least he has succeeded in making two or three of his women\ncharacters more alive than any of his men. It is another surprise that\nin writing of women, Defoe often seems ahead of his age. In the argument\nbetween Roxana and her Dutch merchant about a woman's independence,\nRoxana talks like a character in a \"problem\" play or novel of our own\nday. This, perhaps, is not to Defoe's credit, but it is to his credit\nthat he has said elsewhere:[2] \"A woman well-bred and well-taught,\nfurnished with the ... accomplishments of knowledge and behaviour, is a\ncreature without comparison; her society is the emblem of sublime\nenjoyments; ... and the man that has such a one to his portion, has\nnothing to do but to rejoice in her, and be thankful.\" After reading\nthese words, one cannot but regret that Defoe did not try to create\nheroines more virtuous than Moll Flanders and Roxana.\nIt is not only in drawing his characters that Defoe, in _The Fortunate\nMistress_, comes nearer than usual to producing a novel. This narrative\nof his is less loosely constructed than any others except _Robinson\nCrusoe_ and the _Journal of the Plague Year_, which it was easier to\ngive structure to. In both of them--the story of a solitary on a desert\nisland and the story of the visitation of a pestilence--the nature of\nthe subject made the author's course tolerably plain; in _The Fortunate\nMistress_, the proper course was by no means so well marked. The more\ncredit is due Defoe, therefore, that the book is so far from being\nentirely inorganised that, had he taken sufficient pains with the\nending, it would have had as much structure as many good novels. There\nis no strongly defined plot, it is true; but in general, if a character\nis introduced, he is heard from again; a scene that impresses itself on\nthe mind of the heroine is likely to be important in the sequel. The\nstory seems to be working itself out to a logical conclusion, when\nunexpectedly it comes to an end. Defoe apparently grew tired of it for\nsome reason, and wound it up abruptly, with only the meagre information\nas to the fate of Roxana and Amy that they \"fell into a dreadful course\nof calamities.\"\n    G.H. MAYNADIER.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[1] See Memoirs of a Cavalier\n[2] _An Essay upon Projects, An Academy for Women._\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE\nThe history of this beautiful lady is to speak for itself; if it is not\nas beautiful as the lady herself is reported to be; if it is not as\ndiverting as the reader can desire, and much more than he can reasonably\nexpect; and if all the most diverting parts of it are not adapted to the\ninstruction and improvement of the reader, the relator says it must be\nfrom the defect of his performance; dressing up the story in worse\nclothes than the lady whose words he speaks, prepared for the world.\nHe takes the liberty to say that this story differs from most of the\nmodern performances of this kind, though some of them have met with a\nvery good reception in the world. I say, it differs from them in this\ngreat and essential article, namely, that the foundation of this is laid\nin truth of fact; and so the work is not a story, but a history.\nThe scene is laid so near the place where the main part of it was\ntransacted that it was necessary to conceal names and persons, lest what\ncannot be yet entirely forgot in that part of the town should be\nremembered, and the facts traced back too plainly by the many people\nyet living, who would know the persons by the particulars.\nIt is not always necessary that the names of persons should be\ndiscovered, though the history may be many ways useful; and if we should\nbe always obliged to name the persons, or not to relate the story, the\nconsequence might be only this--that many a pleasant and delightful\nhistory would be buried in the dark, and the world deprived both of the\npleasure and the profit of it.\nThe writer says he was particularly acquainted with this lady's first\nhusband, the brewer, and with his father, and also with his bad\ncircumstances, and knows that first part of the story to be truth.\nThis may, he hopes, be a pledge for the credit of the rest, though the\nlatter part of her history lay abroad, and could not be so well vouched\nas the first; yet, as she has told it herself, we have the less reason\nto question the truth of that part also.\nIn the manner she has told the story, it is evident she does not insist\nupon her justification in any one part of it; much less does she\nrecommend her conduct, or, indeed, any part of it, except her\nrepentance, to our imitation. On the contrary, she makes frequent\nexcursions, in a just censuring and condemning her own practice. How\noften does she reproach herself in the most passionate manner, and guide\nus to just reflections in the like cases!\nIt is true she met with unexpected success in all her wicked courses;\nbut even in the highest elevations of her prosperity she makes frequent\nacknowledgments that the pleasure of her wickedness was not worth the\nrepentance; and that all the satisfaction she had, all the joy in the\nview of her prosperity--no, nor all the wealth she rolled in, the gaiety\nof her appearance, the equipages and the honours she was attended with,\ncould quiet her mind, abate the reproaches of her conscience, or procure\nher an hour's sleep when just reflection kept her waking.\nThe noble inferences that are drawn from this one part are worth all the\nrest of the story, and abundantly justify, as they are the professed\ndesign of, the publication.\nIf there are any parts in her story which, being obliged to relate a\nwicked action, seem to describe it too plainly, the writer says all\nimaginable care has been taken to keep clear of indecencies and immodest\nexpressions; and it is hoped you will find nothing to prompt a vicious\nmind, but everywhere much to discourage and expose it.\nScenes of crime can scarce be represented in such a manner but some may\nmake a criminal use of them; but when vice is painted in its low-prized\ncolours, it is not to make people in love with it, but to expose it; and\nif the reader makes a wrong use of the figures, the wickedness is his\nown.\nIn the meantime, the advantages of the present work are so great, and\nthe virtuous reader has room for so much improvement, that we make no\nquestion the story, however meanly told, will find a passage to his best\nhours, and be read both with profit and delight.\nA HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF ROXANA\nI was born, as my friends told me, at the city of Poitiers, in the\nprovince or county of Poitou, in France, from whence I was brought to\nEngland by my parents, who fled for their religion about the year 1683,\nwhen the Protestants were banished from France by the cruelty of their\npersecutors.\nI, who knew little or nothing of what I was brought over hither for, was\nwell enough pleased with being here. London, a large and gay city, took\nwith me mighty well, who, from my being a child, loved a crowd, and to\nsee a great many fine folks.\nI retained nothing of France but the language, my father and mother\nbeing people of better fashion than ordinarily the people called\nrefugees at that time were; and having fled early, while it was easy to\nsecure their effects, had, before their coming over, remitted\nconsiderable sums of money, or, as I remember, a considerable value in\nFrench brandy, paper, and other goods; and these selling very much to\nadvantage here, my father was in very good circumstances at his coming\nover, so that he was far from applying to the rest of our nation that\nwere here for countenance and relief. On the contrary, he had his door\ncontinually thronged with miserable objects of the poor starving\ncreatures who at that time fled hither for shelter on account of\nconscience, or something else.\nI have indeed heard my father say that he was pestered with a great many\nof those who, for any religion they had, might e'en have stayed where\nthey were, but who flocked over hither in droves, for what they call in\nEnglish a livelihood; hearing with what open arms the refugees were\nreceived in England, and how they fell readily into business, being, by\nthe charitable assistance of the people in London, encouraged to work in\ntheir manufactories in Spitalfields, Canterbury, and other places, and\nthat they had a much better price for their work than in France, and the\nlike.\nMy father, I say, told me that he was more pestered with the clamours of\nthese people than of those who were truly refugees, and fled in distress\nmerely for conscience.\nI was about ten years old when I was brought over hither, where, as I\nhave said, my father lived in very good circumstances, and died in about\neleven years more; in which time, as I had accomplished myself for the\nsociable part of the world, so I had acquainted myself with some of our\nEnglish neighbours, as is the custom in London; and as, while I was\nyoung, I had picked up three or four playfellows and companions suitable\nto my years, so, as we grew bigger, we learned to call one another\nintimates and friends; and this forwarded very much the finishing me for\nconversation and the world.\nI went to English schools, and being young, I learned the English tongue\nperfectly well, with all the customs of the English young women; so that\nI retained nothing of the French but the speech; nor did I so much as\nkeep any remains of the French language tagged to my way of speaking, as\nmost foreigners do, but spoke what we call natural English, as if I had\nbeen born here.\nBeing to give my own character, I must be excused to give it as\nimpartially as possible, and as if I was speaking of another body; and\nthe sequel will lead you to judge whether I flatter myself or no.\nI was (speaking of myself at about fourteen years of age) tall, and very\nwell made; sharp as a hawk in matters of common knowledge; quick and\nsmart in discourse; apt to be satirical; full of repartee; and a little\ntoo forward in conversation, or, as we call it in English, bold, though\nperfectly modest in my behaviour. Being French born, I danced, as some\nsay, naturally, loved it extremely, and sang well also, and so well\nthat, as you will hear, it was afterwards some advantage to me. With\nall these things, I wanted neither wit, beauty, or money. In this manner\nI set out into the world, having all the advantages that any young woman\ncould desire, to recommend me to others, and form a prospect of happy\nliving to myself.\nAt about fifteen years of age, my father gave me, as he called it in\nFrench, 25,000 livres, that is to say, two thousand pounds portion, and\nmarried me to an eminent brewer in the city. Pardon me if I conceal his\nname; for though he was the foundation of my ruin, I cannot take so\nsevere a revenge upon him.\nWith this thing called a husband I lived eight years in good fashion,\nand for some part of the time kept a coach, that is to say, a kind of\nmock coach; for all the week the horses were kept at work in the\ndray-carts; but on Sunday I had the privilege to go abroad in my\nchariot, either to church or otherways, as my husband and I could agree\nabout it, which, by the way, was not very often; but of that hereafter.\nBefore I proceed in the history of the married part of my life, you must\nallow me to give as impartial an account of my husband as I have done of\nmyself. He was a jolly, handsome fellow, as any woman need wish for a\ncompanion; tall and well made; rather a little too large, but not so as\nto be ungenteel; he danced well, which I think was the first thing that\nbrought us together. He had an old father who managed the business\ncarefully, so that he had little of that part lay on him, but now and\nthen to appear and show himself; and he took the advantage of it, for he\ntroubled himself very little about it, but went abroad, kept company,\nhunted much, and loved it exceedingly.\nAfter I have told you that he was a handsome man and a good sportsman, I\nhave indeed said all; and unhappy was I, like other young people of our\nsex, I chose him for being a handsome, jolly fellow, as I have said; for\nhe was otherwise a weak, empty-headed, untaught creature, as any woman\ncould ever desire to be coupled with. And here I must take the liberty,\nwhatever I have to reproach myself with in my after conduct, to turn to\nmy fellow-creatures, the young ladies of this country, and speak to them\nby way of precaution. If you have any regard to your future happiness,\nany view of living comfortably with a husband, any hope of preserving\nyour fortunes, or restoring them after any disaster, never, ladies,\nmarry a fool; any husband rather than a fool. With some other husbands\nyou may be unhappy, but with a fool you will be miserable; with another\nhusband you may, I say, be unhappy, but with a fool you must; nay, if he\nwould, he cannot make you easy; everything he does is so awkward,\neverything he says is so empty, a woman of any sense cannot but be\nsurfeited and sick of him twenty times a day. What is more shocking than\nfor a woman to bring a handsome, comely fellow of a husband into\ncompany, and then be obliged to blush for him every time she hears him\nspeak? to hear other gentlemen talk sense, and he able to say nothing?\nand so look like a fool, or, which is worse, hear him talk nonsense, and\nbe laughed at for a fool.\nIn the next place, there are so many sorts of fools, such an infinite\nvariety of fools, and so hard it is to know the worst of the kind, that\nI am obliged to say, \"No fool, ladies, at all, no kind of fool, whether\na mad fool or a sober fool, a wise fool or a silly fool; take anything\nbut a fool; nay, be anything, be even an old maid, the worst of nature's\ncurses, rather than take up with a fool.\"\nBut to leave this awhile, for I shall have occasion to speak of it\nagain; my case was particularly hard, for I had a variety of foolish\nthings complicated in this unhappy match.\nFirst, and which I must confess is very unsufferable, he was a conceited\nfool, _tout opiniatre_; everything he said was right, was best, and was\nto the purpose, whoever was in company, and whatever was advanced by\nothers, though with the greatest modesty imaginable. And yet, when he\ncame to defend what he had said by argument and reason, he would do it\nso weakly, so emptily, and so nothing to the purpose, that it was enough\nto make anybody that heard him sick and ashamed of him.\nSecondly, he was positive and obstinate, and the most positive in the\nmost simple and inconsistent things, such as were intolerable to bear.\nThese two articles, if there had been no more, qualified him to be a\nmost unbearable creature for a husband; and so it may be supposed at\nfirst sight what a kind of life I led with him. However, I did as well\nas I could, and held my tongue, which was the only victory I gained over\nhim; for when he would talk after his own empty rattling way with me,\nand I would not answer, or enter into discourse with him on the point he\nwas upon, he would rise up in the greatest passion imaginable, and go\naway, which was the cheapest way I had to be delivered.\nI could enlarge here much upon the method I took to make my life\npassable and easy with the most incorrigible temper in the world; but it\nis too long, and the articles too trifling. I shall mention some of them\nas the circumstances I am to relate shall necessarily bring them in.\nAfter I had been married about four years, my own father died, my mother\nhaving been dead before. He liked my match so ill, and saw so little\nroom to be satisfied with the conduct of my husband, that though he left\nme five thousand livres, and more, at his death, yet he left it in the\nhands of my elder brother, who, running on too rashly in his adventures\nas a merchant, failed, and lost not only what he had, but what he had\nfor me too, as you shall hear presently.\nThus I lost the last gift of my father's bounty by having a husband not\nfit to be trusted with it: there's one of the benefits of marrying a\nfool.\nWithin two years after my own father's death my husband's father also\ndied, and, as I thought, left him a considerable addition to his estate,\nthe whole trade of the brewhouse, which was a very good one, being now\nhis own.\nBut this addition to his stock was his ruin, for he had no genius to\nbusiness, he had no knowledge of his accounts; he bustled a little about\nit, indeed, at first, and put on a face of business, but he soon grew\nslack; it was below him to inspect his books, he committed all that to\nhis clerks and book-keepers; and while he found money in cash to pay the\nmaltman and the excise, and put some in his pocket, he was perfectly\neasy and indolent, let the main chance go how it would.\nI foresaw the consequence of this, and attempted several times to\npersuade him to apply himself to his business; I put him in mind how his\ncustomers complained of the neglect of his servants on one hand, and how\nabundance broke in his debt, on the other hand, for want of the clerk's\ncare to secure him, and the like; but he thrust me by, either with hard\nwords, or fraudulently, with representing the cases otherwise than they\nwere.\nHowever, to cut short a dull story, which ought not to be long, he began\nto find his trade sunk, his stock declined, and that, in short, he could\nnot carry on his business, and once or twice his brewing utensils were\nextended for the excise; and, the last time, he was put to great\nextremities to clear them.\nThis alarmed him, and he resolved to lay down his trade; which, indeed,\nI was not sorry for; foreseeing that if he did not lay it down in time,\nhe would be forced to do it another way, namely, as a bankrupt. Also I\nwas willing he should draw out while he had something left, lest I\nshould come to be stripped at home, and be turned out of doors with my\nchildren; for I had now five children by him, the only work (perhaps)\nthat fools are good for.\nI thought myself happy when he got another man to take his brewhouse\nclear off his hands; for, paying down a large sum of money, my husband\nfound himself a clear man, all his debts paid, and with between two and\nthree thousand pounds in his pocket; and being now obliged to remove\nfrom the brewhouse, we took a house at ----, a village about two miles\nout of town; and happy I thought myself, all things considered, that I\nwas got off clear, upon so good terms; and had my handsome fellow had\nbut one capful of wit, I had been still well enough.\nI proposed to him either to buy some place with the money, or with part\nof it, and offered to join my part to it, which was then in being, and\nmight have been secured; so we might have lived tolerably at least\nduring his life. But as it is the part of a fool to be void of counsel,\nso he neglected it, lived on as he did before, kept his horses and men,\nrid every day out to the forest a-hunting, and nothing was done all this\nwhile; but the money decreased apace, and I thought I saw my ruin\nhastening on without any possible way to prevent it.\nI was not wanting with all that persuasions and entreaties could\nperform, but it was all fruitless; representing to him how fast our\nmoney wasted, and what would be our condition when it was gone, made no\nimpression on him; but like one stupid, he went on, not valuing all that\ntears and lamentations could be supposed to do; nor did he abate his\nfigure or equipage, his horses or servants, even to the last, till he\nhad not a hundred pounds left in the whole world.\nIt was not above three years that all the ready money was thus spending\noff; yet he spent it, as I may say, foolishly too, for he kept no\nvaluable company neither, but generally with huntsmen and\nhorse-coursers, and men meaner than himself, which is another\nconsequence of a man's being a fool; such can never take delight in men\nmore wise and capable than themselves, and that makes them converse\nwith scoundrels, drink, belch with porters, and keep company always\nbelow themselves.\nThis was my wretched condition, when one morning my husband told me he\nwas sensible he was come to a miserable condition, and he would go and\nseek his fortune somewhere or other. He had said something to that\npurpose several times before that, upon my pressing him to consider his\ncircumstances, and the circumstances of his family, before it should be\ntoo late; but as I found he had no meaning in anything of that kind, as,\nindeed, he had not much in anything he ever said, so I thought they were\nbut words of course now. When he had said he would be gone, I used to\nwish secretly, and even say in my thoughts, I wish you would, for if you\ngo on thus you will starve us all.\nHe stayed, however, at home all that day, and lay at home that night;\nearly the next morning he gets out of bed, goes to a window which looked\nout towards the stable, and sounds his French horn, as he called it,\nwhich was his usual signal to call his men to go out a-hunting.\nIt was about the latter end of August, and so was light yet at five\no'clock, and it was about that time that I heard him and his two men go\nout and shut the yard gates after them. He said nothing to me more than\nas usual when he used to go out upon his sport; neither did I rise, or\nsay anything to him that was material, but went to sleep again after he\nwas gone, for two hours or thereabouts.\nIt must be a little surprising to the reader to tell him at once, that\nafter this I never saw my husband more; but, to go farther, I not only\nnever saw him more, but I never heard from him, or of him, neither of\nany or either of his two servants, or of the horses, either what became\nof them, where or which way they went, or what they did or intended to\ndo, no more than if the ground had opened and swallowed them all up, and\nnobody had known it, except as hereafter.\nI was not, for the first night or two, at all surprised, no, nor very\nmuch the first week or two, believing that if anything evil had befallen\nthem, I should soon enough have heard of that; and also knowing, that as\nhe had two servants and three horses with him, it would be the strangest\nthing in the world that anything could befall them all but that I must\nsome time or other hear of them.\nBut you will easily allow, that as time ran on, a week, two weeks, a\nmonth, two months, and so on, I was dreadfully frighted at last, and the\nmore when I looked into my own circumstances, and considered the\ncondition in which I was left with five children, and not one farthing\nsubsistence for them, other than about seventy pounds in money, and what\nfew things of value I had about me, which, though considerable in\nthemselves, were yet nothing to feed a family, and for a length of time\ntoo.\n[Illustration: THE BREWER AND HIS MEN\nI heard him and his two men go out and shut the yard gates after them]\nWhat to do I knew not, nor to whom to have recourse: to keep in the\nhouse where I was, I could not, the rent being too great; and to leave\nit without his orders, if my husband should return, I could not think of\nthat neither; so that I continued extremely perplexed, melancholy, and\ndiscouraged to the last degree.\nI remained in this dejected condition near a twelvemonth. My husband had\ntwo sisters, who were married, and lived very well, and some other near\nrelations that I knew of, and I hoped would do something for me; and I\nfrequently sent to these, to know if they could give me any account of\nmy vagrant creature. But they all declared to me in answer, that they\nknew nothing about him; and, after frequent sending, began to think me\ntroublesome, and to let me know they thought so too, by their treating\nmy maid with very slight and unhandsome returns to her inquiries.\nThis grated hard, and added to my affliction; but I had no recourse but\nto my tears, for I had not a friend of my own left me in the world. I\nshould have observed, that it was about half a year before this\nelopement of my husband that the disaster I mentioned above befell my\nbrother, who broke, and that in such bad circumstances, that I had the\nmortification to hear, not only that he was in prison, but that there\nwould be little or nothing to be had by way of composition.\nMisfortunes seldom come alone: this was the forerunner of my husband's\nflight; and as my expectations were cut off on that side, my husband\ngone, and my family of children on my hands, and nothing to subsist\nthem, my condition was the most deplorable that words can express.\nI had some plate and some jewels, as might be supposed, my fortune and\nformer circumstances considered; and my husband, who had never stayed to\nbe distressed, had not been put to the necessity of rifling me, as\nhusbands usually do in such cases. But as I had seen an end of all the\nready money during the long time I had lived in a state of expectation\nfor my husband, so I began to make away one thing after another, till\nthose few things of value which I had began to lessen apace, and I saw\nnothing but misery and the utmost distress before me, even to have my\nchildren starve before my face. I leave any one that is a mother of\nchildren, and has lived in plenty and in good fashion, to consider and\nreflect what must be my condition. As to my husband, I had now no hope\nor expectation of seeing him any more; and indeed, if I had, he was a\nman of all the men in the world the least able to help me, or to have\nturned his hand to the gaining one shilling towards lessening our\ndistress; he neither had the capacity or the inclination; he could have\nbeen no clerk, for he scarce wrote a legible hand; he was so far from\nbeing able to write sense, that he could not make sense of what others\nwrote; he was so far from understanding good English, that he could not\nspell good English; to be out of all business was his delight, and he\nwould stand leaning against a post for half-an-hour together, with a\npipe in his mouth, with all the tranquillity in the world, smoking, like\nDryden's countryman, that whistled as he went for want of thought, and\nthis even when his family was, as it were, starving, that little he had\nwasting, and that we were all bleeding to death; he not knowing, and as\nlittle considering, where to get another shilling when the last was\nspent.\nThis being his temper, and the extent of his capacity, I confess I did\nnot see so much loss in his parting with me as at first I thought I did;\nthough it was hard and cruel to the last degree in him, not giving me\nthe least notice of his design; and indeed, that which I was most\nastonished at was, that seeing he must certainly have intended this\nexcursion some few moments at least before he put it in practice, yet he\ndid not come and take what little stock of money we had left, or at\nleast a share of it, to bear his expense for a little while; but he did\nnot; and I am morally certain he had not five guineas with him in the\nworld when he went away. All that I could come to the knowledge of about\nhim was, that he left his hunting-horn, which he called the French horn,\nin the stable, and his hunting-saddle, went away in a handsome\nfurniture, as they call it, which he used sometimes to travel with,\nhaving an embroidered housing, a case of pistols, and other things\nbelonging to them; and one of his servants had another saddle with\npistols, though plain, and the other a long gun; so that they did not go\nout as sportsmen, but rather as travellers; what part of the world they\nwent to I never heard for many years.\nAs I have said, I sent to his relations, but they sent me short and\nsurly answers; nor did any one of them offer to come to see me, or to\nsee the children, or so much as to inquire after them, well perceiving\nthat I was in a condition that was likely to be soon troublesome to\nthem. But it was no time now to dally with them or with the world; I\nleft off sending to them, and went myself among them, laid my\ncircumstances open to them, told them my whole case, and the condition I\nwas reduced to, begged they would advise me what course to take, laid\nmyself as low as they could desire, and entreated them to consider that\nI was not in a condition to help myself, and that without some\nassistance we must all inevitably perish. I told them that if I had had\nbut one child, or two children, I would have done my endeavour to have\nworked for them with my needle, and should only have come to them to beg\nthem to help me to some work, that I might get our bread by my labour;\nbut to think of one single woman, not bred to work, and at a loss where\nto get employment, to get the bread of five children, that was not\npossible--some of my children being young too, and none of them big\nenough to help one another.\nIt was all one; I received not one farthing of assistance from anybody,\nwas hardly asked to sit down at the two sisters' houses, nor offered to\neat or drink at two more near relations'. The fifth, an ancient\ngentlewoman, aunt-in-law to my husband, a widow, and the least able also\nof any of the rest, did, indeed, ask me to sit down, gave me a dinner,\nand refreshed me with a kinder treatment than any of the rest, but added\nthe melancholy part, viz., that she would have helped me, but that,\nindeed, she was not able, which, however, I was satisfied was very true.\nHere I relieved myself with the constant assistant of the afflicted, I\nmean tears; for, relating to her how I was received by the other of my\nhusband's relations, it made me burst into tears, and I cried vehemently\nfor a great while together, till I made the good old gentlewoman cry too\nseveral times.\nHowever, I came home from them all without any relief, and went on at\nhome till I was reduced to such inexpressible distress that is not to be\ndescribed. I had been several times after this at the old aunt's, for I\nprevailed with her to promise me to go and talk with the other\nrelations, at least, that, if possible, she could bring some of them to\ntake off the children, or to contribute something towards their\nmaintenance. And, to do her justice, she did use her endeavour with\nthem; but all was to no purpose, they would do nothing, at least that\nway. I think, with much entreaty, she obtained, by a kind of collection\namong them all, about eleven or twelve shillings in money, which, though\nit was a present comfort, was yet not to be named as capable to deliver\nme from any part of the load that lay upon me.\nThere was a poor woman that had been a kind of a dependent upon our\nfamily, and whom I had often, among the rest of the relations, been very\nkind to; my maid put it into my head one morning to send to this poor\nwoman, and to see whether she might not be able to help in this dreadful\ncase.\nI must remember it here, to the praise of this poor girl, my maid, that\nthough I was not able to give her any wages, and had told her so--nay, I\nwas not able to pay her the wages that I was in arrears to her--yet she\nwould not leave me; nay, and as long as she had any money, when I had\nnone, she would help me out of her own, for which, though I acknowledged\nher kindness and fidelity, yet it was but a bad coin that she was paid\nin at last, as will appear in its place.\nAmy (for that was her name) put it into my thoughts to send for this\npoor woman to come to me; for I was now in great distress, and I\nresolved to do so. But just the very morning that I intended it, the old\naunt, with the poor woman in her company, came to see me; the good old\ngentlewoman was, it seems, heartily concerned for me, and had been\ntalking again among those people, to see what she could do for me, but\nto very little purpose.\nYou shall judge a little of my present distress by the posture she found\nme in. I had five little children, the eldest was under ten years old,\nand I had not one shilling in the house to buy them victuals, but had\nsent Amy out with a silver spoon to sell it, and bring home something\nfrom the butcher's; and I was in a parlour, sitting on the ground, with\na great heap of old rags, linen, and other things about me, looking them\nover, to see if I had anything among them that would sell or pawn for a\nlittle money, and had been crying ready to burst myself, to think what I\nshould do next.\nAt this juncture they knocked at the door. I thought it had been Amy,\nso I did not rise up; but one of the children opened the door, and they\ncame directly into the room where I was, and where they found me in that\nposture, and crying vehemently, as above. I was surprised at their\ncoming, you may be sure, especially seeing the person I had but just\nbefore resolved to send for; but when they saw me, how I looked, for my\neyes were swelled with crying, and what a condition I was in as to the\nhouse, and the heaps of things that were about me, and especially when I\ntold them what I was doing, and on what occasion, they sat down, like\nJob's three comforters, and said not one word to me for a great while,\nbut both of them cried as fast and as heartily as I did.\nThe truth was, there was no need of much discourse in the case, the\nthing spoke itself; they saw me in rags and dirt, who was but a little\nbefore riding in my coach; thin, and looking almost like one starved,\nwho was before fat and beautiful. The house, that was before handsomely\nfurnished with pictures and ornaments, cabinets, pier-glasses, and\neverything suitable, was now stripped and naked, most of the goods\nhaving been seized by the landlord for rent, or sold to buy necessaries;\nin a word, all was misery and distress, the face of ruin was everywhere\nto be seen; we had eaten up almost everything, and little remained,\nunless, like one of the pitiful women of Jerusalem, I should eat up my\nvery children themselves.\nAfter these two good creatures had sat, as I say, in silence some time,\nand had then looked about them, my maid Amy came in, and brought with\nher a small breast of mutton and two great bunches of turnips, which she\nintended to stew for our dinner. As for me, my heart was so overwhelmed\nat seeing these two friends--for such they were, though poor--and at\ntheir seeing me in such a condition, that I fell into another violent\nfit of crying, so that, in short, I could not speak to them again for a\ngreat while longer.\nDuring my being in such an agony, they went to my maid Amy at another\npart of the same room and talked with her. Amy told them all my\ncircumstances, and set them forth in such moving terms, and so to the\nlife, that I could not upon any terms have done it like her myself, and,\nin a word, affected them both with it in such a manner, that the old\naunt came to me, and though hardly able to speak for tears, \"Look ye,\ncousin,\" said she, in a few words, \"things must not stand thus; some\ncourse must be taken, and that forthwith; pray, where were these\nchildren born?\" I told her the parish where we lived before, that four\nof them were born there, and one in the house where I now was, where the\nlandlord, after having seized my goods for the rent past, not then\nknowing my circumstances, had now given me leave to live for a whole\nyear more without any rent, being moved with compassion; but that this\nyear was now almost expired.\nUpon hearing this account, they came to this resolution, that the\nchildren should be all carried by them to the door of one of the\nrelations mentioned above, and be set down there by the maid Amy, and\nthat I, the mother, should remove for some days, shut up the doors, and\nbe gone; that the people should be told, that if they did not think fit\nto take some care of the children, they might send for the churchwardens\nif they thought that better, for that they were born in that parish, and\nthere they must be provided for; as for the other child, which was born\nin the parish of ----, that was already taken care of by the parish\nofficers there, for indeed they were so sensible of the distress of the\nfamily that they had at first word done what was their part to do.\nThis was what these good women proposed, and bade me leave the rest to\nthem. I was at first sadly afflicted at the thoughts of parting with my\nchildren, and especially at that terrible thing, their being taken into\nthe parish keeping; and then a hundred terrible things came into my\nthoughts, viz., of parish children being starved at nurse; of their\nbeing ruined, let grow crooked, lamed, and the like, for want of being\ntaken care of; and this sunk my very heart within me.\nBut the misery of my own circumstances hardened my heart against my own\nflesh and blood; and when I considered they must inevitably be starved,\nand I too if I continued to keep them about me, I began to be reconciled\nto parting with them all, anyhow and anywhere, that I might be freed\nfrom the dreadful necessity of seeing them all perish, and perishing\nwith them myself. So I agreed to go away out of the house, and leave the\nmanagement of the whole matter to my maid Amy and to them; and\naccordingly I did so, and the same afternoon they carried them all away\nto one of their aunts.\nAmy, a resolute girl, knocked at the door, with the children all with\nher, and bade the eldest, as soon as the door was open, run in, and the\nrest after her. She set them all down at the door before she knocked,\nand when she knocked she stayed till a maid-servant came to the door;\n\"Sweetheart,\" said she, \"pray go in and tell your mistress here are her\nlittle cousins come to see her from ----,\" naming the town where we\nlived, at which the maid offered to go back. \"Here, child,\" says Amy,\n\"take one of 'em in your hand, and I'll bring the rest;\" so she gives\nher the least, and the wench goes in mighty innocently, with the little\none in her hand, upon which Amy turns the rest in after her, shuts the\ndoor softly, and marches off as fast as she could.\nJust in the interval of this, and even while the maid and her mistress\nwere quarrelling (for the mistress raved and scolded her like a mad\nwoman, and had ordered her to go and stop the maid Amy, and turn all the\nchildren out of the doors again; but she had been at the door, and Amy\nwas gone, and the wench was out of her wits, and the mistress too), I\nsay, just at this juncture came the poor old woman, not the aunt, but\nthe other of the two that had been with me, and knocks at the door: the\naunt did not go, because she had pretended to advocate for me, and they\nwould have suspected her of some contrivance; but as for the other\nwoman, they did not so much as know that she had kept up any\ncorrespondence with me.\nAmy and she had concerted this between them, and it was well enough\ncontrived that they did so. When she came into the house, the mistress\nwas fuming, and raging like one distracted, and called the maid all the\nfoolish jades and sluts that she could think of, and that she would take\nthe children and turn them all out into the streets. The good poor\nwoman, seeing her in such a passion, turned about as if she would be\ngone again, and said, \"Madam, I'll come again another time, I see you\nare engaged.\" \"No, no, Mrs. ----,\" says the mistress, \"I am not much\nengaged, sit down; this senseless creature here has brought in my fool\nof a brother's whole house of children upon me, and tells me that a\nwench brought them to the door and thrust them in, and bade her carry\nthem to me; but it shall be no disturbance to me, for I have ordered\nthem to be set in the street without the door, and so let the\nchurchwardens take care of them, or else make this dull jade carry 'em\nback to ---- again, and let her that brought them into the world look\nafter them if she will; what does she send her brats to me for?\"\n\"The last indeed had been the best of the two,\" says the poor woman, \"if\nit had been to be done; and that brings me to tell you my errand, and\nthe occasion of my coming, for I came on purpose about this very\nbusiness, and to have prevented this being put upon you if I could, but\nI see I am come too late.\"\n\"How do you mean too late?\" says the mistress. \"What! have you been\nconcerned in this affair, then? What! have you helped bring this family\nslur upon us?\" \"I hope you do not think such a thing of me, madam,\" says\nthe poor woman; \"but I went this morning to ----, to see my old mistress\nand benefactor, for she had been very kind to me, and when I came to the\ndoor I found all fast locked and bolted, and the house looking as if\nnobody was at home.\n\"I knocked at the door, but nobody came, till at last some of the\nneighbours' servants called to me and said, 'There's nobody lives there,\nmistress; what do you knock for?' I seemed surprised at that. 'What,\nnobody lives there!' said I; 'what d'ye mean? Does not Mrs. ---- live\nthere?' The answer was, 'No, she is gone;' at which I parleyed with one\nof them, and asked her what was the matter. 'Matter!' says she, 'why, it\nis matter enough: the poor gentlewoman has lived there all alone, and\nwithout anything to subsist her a long time, and this morning the\nlandlord turned her out of doors.'\n\"'Out of doors!' says I; 'what! with all her children? Poor lambs, what\nis become of them?' 'Why, truly, nothing worse,' said they, 'can come to\nthem than staying here, for they were almost starved with hunger; so the\nneighbours, seeing the poor lady in such distress, for she stood crying\nand wringing her hands over her children like one distracted, sent for\nthe churchwardens to take care of the children; and they, when they\ncame, took the youngest, which was born in this parish, and have got it\na very good nurse, and taken care of it; but as for the other four, they\nhad sent them away to some of their father's relations, and who were\nvery substantial people, and who, besides that, lived in the parish\nwhere they were born.'\n\"I was not so surprised at this as not presently to foresee that this\ntrouble would be brought upon you or upon Mr. ----; so I came immediately\nto bring word of it, that you might be prepared for it, and might not be\nsurprised; but I see they have been too nimble for me, so that I know\nnot what to advise. The poor woman, it seems, is turned out of doors\ninto the street; and another of the neighbours there told me, that when\nthey took her children from her she swooned away, and when they\nrecovered her out of that, she ran distracted, and is put into a\nmadhouse by the parish, for there is nobody else to take any care of\nher.\"\nThis was all acted to the life by this good, kind, poor creature; for\nthough her design was perfectly good and charitable, yet there was not\none word of it true in fact; for I was not turned out of doors by the\nlandlord, nor gone distracted. It was true, indeed, that at parting with\nmy poor children I fainted, and was like one mad when I came to myself\nand found they were gone; but I remained in the house a good while after\nthat, as you shall hear.\nWhile the poor woman was telling this dismal story, in came the\ngentlewoman's husband, and though her heart was hardened against all\npity, who was really and nearly related to the children, for they were\nthe children of her own brother, yet the good man was quite softened\nwith the dismal relation of the circumstances of the family; and when\nthe poor woman had done, he said to his wife, \"This is a dismal case,\nmy dear, indeed, and something must be done.\" His wife fell a-raving at\nhim: \"What,\" says she, \"do you want to have four children to keep? Have\nwe not children of our own? Would you have these brats come and eat up\nmy children's bread? No, no, let 'em go to the parish, and let them take\ncare of them; I'll take care of my own.\"\n\"Come, come, my dear,\" says the husband, \"charity is a duty to the poor,\nand he that gives to the poor lends to the Lord; let us lend our\nheavenly Father a little of our children's bread, as you call it; it\nwill be a store well laid up for them, and will be the best security\nthat our children shall never come to want charity, or be turned out of\ndoors, as these poor innocent creatures are.\" \"Don't tell me of\nsecurity,\" says the wife, \"'tis a good security for our children to keep\nwhat we have together, and provide for them, and then 'tis time enough\nto help keep other folks' children. Charity begins at home.\"\n\"Well, my dear,\" says he again, \"I only talk of putting out a little\nmoney to interest: our Maker is a good borrower; never fear making a bad\ndebt there, child, I'll be bound for it.\"\n\"Don't banter me with your charity and your allegories,\" says the wife\nangrily; \"I tell you they are my relations, not yours, and they shall\nnot roost here; they shall go to the parish.\"\n\"All your relations are my relations now,\" says the good gentleman very\ncalmly, \"and I won't see your relations in distress, and not pity them,\nany more than I would my own; indeed, my dear, they shan't go to the\nparish. I assure you, none of my wife's relations shall come to the\nparish, if I can help it.\"\n\"What! will you take four children to keep?\" says the wife.\n\"No, no, my dear,\" says he, \"there's your sister ----, I'll go and talk\nwith her; and your uncle ----, I'll send for him, and the rest. I'll\nwarrant you, when we are all together, we will find ways and means to\nkeep four poor little creatures from beggary and starving, or else it\nwould be very hard; we are none of us in so bad circumstances but we are\nable to spare a mite for the fatherless. Don't shut up your bowels of\ncompassion against your own flesh and blood. Could you hear these poor\ninnocent children cry at your door for hunger, and give them no bread?\"\n\"Prithee, what need they cry at our door?\" says she. \"'Tis the business\nof the parish to provide for them; they shan't cry at our door. If they\ndo, I'll give them nothing.\" \"Won't you?\" says he; \"but I will. Remember\nthat dreadful Scripture is directly against us, Prov. xxi. 13, 'Whoso\nstoppeth his ears at the cry of the poor, he also shall cry himself, but\nshall not be heard.'\"\n\"Well, well,\" says she, \"you must do what you will, because you pretend\nto be master; but if I had my will I would send them where they ought to\nbe sent: I would send them from whence they came.\"\nThen the poor woman put in, and said, \"But, madam, that is sending them\nto starve indeed, for the parish has no obligation to take care of 'em,\nand so they will lie and perish in the street.\"\n\"Or be sent back again,\" says the husband, \"to our parish in a\ncripple-cart, by the justice's warrant, and so expose us and all the\nrelations to the last degree among our neighbours, and among those who\nknow the good old gentleman their grandfather, who lived and flourished\nin this parish so many years, and was so well beloved among all people,\nand deserved it so well.\"\n\"I don't value that one farthing, not I,\" says the wife; \"I'll keep none\nof them.\"\n\"Well, my dear,\" says her husband, \"but I value it, for I won't have\nsuch a blot lie upon the family, and upon your children; he was a\nworthy, ancient, and good man, and his name is respected among all his\nneighbours; it will be a reproach to you, that are his daughter, and to\nour children, that are his grandchildren, that we should let your\nbrother's children perish, or come to be a charge to the public, in the\nvery place where your family once flourished. Come, say no more; I will\nsee what can be done.\"\nUpon this he sends and gathers all the relations together at a tavern\nhard by, and sent for the four little children, that they might see\nthem; and they all, at first word, agreed to have them taken care of,\nand, because his wife was so furious that she would not suffer one of\nthem to be kept at home, they agreed to keep them all together for a\nwhile; so they committed them to the poor woman that had managed the\naffair for them, and entered into obligations to one another to supply\nthe needful sums for their maintenance; and, not to have one separated\nfrom the rest, they sent for the youngest from the parish where it was\ntaken in, and had them all brought up together.\nIt would take up too long a part of this story to give a particular\naccount with what a charitable tenderness this good person, who was but\nan uncle-in-law to them, managed that affair; how careful he was of\nthem; went constantly to see them, and to see that they were well\nprovided for, clothed, put to school, and, at last, put out in the world\nfor their advantage; but it is enough to say he acted more like a father\nto them than an uncle-in-law, though all along much against his wife's\nconsent, who was of a disposition not so tender and compassionate as\nher husband.\nYou may believe I heard this with the same pleasure which I now feel at\nthe relating it again; for I was terribly affrighted at the\napprehensions of my children being brought to misery and distress, as\nthose must be who have no friends, but are left to parish benevolence.\nI was now, however, entering on a new scene of life. I had a great house\nupon my hands, and some furniture left in it; but I was no more able to\nmaintain myself and my maid Amy in it than I was my five children; nor\nhad I anything to subsist with but what I might get by working, and that\nwas not a town where much work was to be had.\nMy landlord had been very kind indeed after he came to know my\ncircumstances; though, before he was acquainted with that part, he had\ngone so far as to seize my goods, and to carry some of them off too.\nBut I had lived three-quarters of a year in his house after that, and\nhad paid him no rent, and, which was worse, I was in no condition to pay\nhim any. However, I observed he came oftener to see me, looked kinder\nupon me, and spoke more friendly to me, than he used to do, particularly\nthe last two or three times he had been there. He observed, he said, how\npoorly I lived, how low I was reduced, and the like; told me it grieved\nhim for my sake; and the last time of all he was kinder still, told me\nhe came to dine with me, and that I should give him leave to treat me;\nso he called my maid Amy, and sent her out to buy a joint of meat; he\ntold her what she should buy; but naming two or three things, either of\nwhich she might take, the maid, a cunning wench, and faithful to me as\nthe skin to my back, did not buy anything outright, but brought the\nbutcher along with her, with both the things that she had chosen, for\nhim to please himself. The one was a large, very good leg of veal; the\nother a piece of the fore-ribs of roasting beef. He looked at them, but\nmade me chaffer with the butcher for him, and I did so, and came back to\nhim and told him what the butcher had demanded for either of them, and\nwhat each of them came to. So he pulls out eleven shillings and\nthreepence, which they came to together, and bade me take them both; the\nrest, he said, would serve another time.\nI was surprised, you may be sure, at the bounty of a man that had but a\nlittle while ago been my terror, and had torn the goods out of my house\nlike a fury; but I considered that my distresses had mollified his\ntemper, and that he had afterwards been so compassionate as to give me\nleave to live rent free in the house a whole year.\nBut now he put on the face, not of a man of compassion only, but of a\nman of friendship and kindness, and this was so unexpected that it was\nsurprising. We chatted together, and were, as I may call it, cheerful,\nwhich was more than I could say I had been for three years before. He\nsent for wine and beer too, for I had none; poor Amy and I had drank\nnothing but water for many weeks, and indeed I have often wondered at\nthe faithful temper of the poor girl, for which I but ill requited her\nat last.\nWhen Amy was come with the wine, he made her fill a glass to him, and\nwith the glass in his hand he came to me and kissed me, which I was, I\nconfess, a little surprised at, but more at what followed; for he told\nme, that as the sad condition which I was reduced to had made him pity\nme, so my conduct in it, and the courage I bore it with, had given him a\nmore than ordinary respect for me, and made him very thoughtful for my\ngood; that he was resolved for the present to do something to relieve\nme, and to employ his thoughts in the meantime, to see if he could for\nthe future put me into a way to support myself.\nWhile he found me change colour, and look surprised at his discourse,\nfor so I did, to be sure, he turns to my maid Amy, and looking at her,\nhe says to me, \"I say all this, madam, before your maid, because both\nshe and you shall know that I have no ill design, and that I have, in\nmere kindness, resolved to do something for you if I can; and as I have\nbeen a witness of the uncommon honesty and fidelity of Mrs. Amy here to\nyou in all your distresses, I know she may be trusted with so honest a\ndesign as mine is; for I assure you, I bear a proportioned regard to\nyour maid too, for her affection to you.\"\nAmy made him a curtsey, and the poor girl looked so confounded with joy\nthat she could not speak, but her colour came and went, and every now\nand then she blushed as red as scarlet, and the next minute looked as\npale as death. Well, having said this, he sat down, made me sit down,\nand then drank to me, and made me drink two glasses of wine together;\n\"For,\" says he, \"you have need of it;\" and so indeed I had. When he had\ndone so, \"Come, Amy,\" says he, \"with your mistress's leave, you shall\nhave a glass too.\" So he made her drink two glasses also; and then\nrising up, \"And now, Amy,\" says he, \"go and get dinner; and you, madam,\"\nsays he to me, \"go up and dress you, and come down and smile and be\nmerry;\" adding, \"I'll make you easy if I can;\" and in the meantime, he\nsaid, he would walk in the garden.\nWhen he was gone, Amy changed her countenance indeed, and looked as\nmerry as ever she did in her life. \"Dear madam,\" says she, \"what does\nthis gentleman mean?\" \"Nay, Amy,\" said I, \"he means to do us good, you\nsee, don't he? I know no other meaning he can have, for he can get\nnothing by me.\" \"I warrant you, madam,\" says she, \"he'll ask you a\nfavour by-and-by.\" \"No, no, you are mistaken, Amy, I dare say,\" said I;\n\"you have heard what he said, didn't you?\" \"Ay,\" says Amy, \"it's no\nmatter for that, you shall see what he will do after dinner.\" \"Well,\nwell, Amy,\" says I, \"you have hard thoughts of him. I cannot be of your\nopinion: I don't see anything in him yet that looks like it.\" \"As to\nthat, madam,\" says Amy, \"I don't see anything of it yet neither; but\nwhat should move a gentleman to take pity of us as he does?\" \"Nay,\" says\nI, \"that's a hard thing too, that we should judge a man to be wicked\nbecause he's charitable, and vicious because he's kind.\" \"Oh, madam,\"\nsays Amy, \"there's abundance of charity begins in that vice; and he is\nnot so unacquainted with things as not to know that poverty is the\nstrongest incentive--a temptation against which no virtue is powerful\nenough to stand out. He knows your condition as well as you do.\" \"Well,\nand what then?\" \"Why, then, he knows too that you are young and\nhandsome, and he has the surest bait in the world to take you with.\"\n\"Well, Amy,\" said I, \"but he may find himself mistaken too in such a\nthing as that.\" \"Why, madam,\" says Amy, \"I hope you won't deny him if he\nshould offer it.\"\n\"What d'ye mean by that, hussy?\" said I. \"No, I'd starve first.\"\n\"I hope not, madam, I hope you would be wiser; I'm sure if he will set\nyou up, as he talks of, you ought to deny him nothing; and you will\nstarve if you do not consent, that's certain.\"\n\"What! consent to lie with him for bread? Amy,\" said I, \"how can you\ntalk so!\"\n\"Nay, madam,\" says Amy, \"I don't think you would for anything else; it\nwould not be lawful for anything else, but for bread, madam; why, nobody\ncan starve, there's no bearing that, I'm sure.\"\n\"Ay,\" says I, \"but if he would give me an estate to live on, he should\nnot lie with me, I assure you.\"\n\"Why, look you, madam; if he would but give you enough to live easy\nupon, he should lie with me for it with all my heart.\"\n\"That's a token, Amy, of inimitable kindness to me,\" said I, \"and I know\nhow to value it; but there's more friendship than honesty in it, Amy.\"\n\"Oh, madam,\" says Amy, \"I'd do anything to get you out of this sad\ncondition; as to honesty, I think honesty is out of the question when\nstarving is the case. Are not we almost starved to death?\"\n\"I am indeed,\" said I, \"and thou art for my sake; but to be a whore,\nAmy!\" and there I stopped.\n\"Dear madam,\" says Amy, \"if I will starve for your sake, I will be a\nwhore or anything for your sake; why, I would die for you if I were put\nto it.\"\n\"Why, that's an excess of affection, Amy,\" said I, \"I never met with\nbefore; I wish I may be ever in condition to make you some returns\nsuitable. But, however, Amy, you shall not be a whore to him, to oblige\nhim to be kind to me; no, Amy, nor I won't be a whore to him, if he\nwould give me much more than he is able to give me or do for me.\"\n\"Why, madam,\" says Amy, \"I don't say I will go and ask him; but I say,\nif he should promise to do so and so for you, and the condition was such\nthat he would not serve you unless I would let him lie with me, he\nshould lie with me as often as he would, rather than you should not have\nhis assistance. But this is but talk, madam; I don't see any need of\nsuch discourse, and you are of opinion that there will be no need of\nit.\"\n\"Indeed so I am, Amy; but,\" said I, \"if there was, I tell you again, I'd\ndie before I would consent, or before you should consent for my sake.\"\nHitherto I had not only preserved the virtue itself, but the virtuous\ninclination and resolution; and had I kept myself there I had been\nhappy, though I had perished of mere hunger; for, without question, a\nwoman ought rather to die than to prostitute her virtue and honour, let\nthe temptation be what it will.\nBut to return to my story; he walked about the garden, which was,\nindeed, all in disorder, and overrun with weeds, because I had not been\nable to hire a gardener to do anything to it, no, not so much as to dig\nup ground enough to sow a few turnips and carrots for family use. After\nhe had viewed it, he came in, and sent Amy to fetch a poor man, a\ngardener, that used to help our man-servant, and carried him into the\ngarden, and ordered him to do several things in it, to put it into a\nlittle order; and this took him up near an hour.\nBy this time I had dressed me as well as I could; for though I had good\nlinen left still, yet I had but a poor head-dress, and no knots, but old\nfragments; no necklace, no earrings; all those things were gone long ago\nfor mere bread.\nHowever, I was tight and clean, and in better plight than he had seen me\nin a great while, and he looked extremely pleased to see me so; for, he\nsaid, I looked so disconsolate and so afflicted before, that it grieved\nhim to see me; and he bade me pluck up a good heart, for he hoped to put\nme in a condition to live in the world, and be beholden to nobody.\nI told him that was impossible, for I must be beholden to him for it,\nfor all the friends I had in the world would not or could not do so much\nfor me as that he spoke of \"Well, widow,\" says he (so he called me, and\nso indeed I was in the worst sense that desolate word could be used\nin), \"if you are beholden to me, you shall be beholden to nobody else.\"\nBy this time dinner was ready, and Amy came in to lay the cloth, and\nindeed it was happy there was none to dine but he and I, for I had but\nsix plates left in the house, and but two dishes; however, he knew how\nthings were, and bade me make no scruple about bringing out what I had.\nHe hoped to see me in a better plight. He did not come, he said, to be\nentertained, but to entertain me, and comfort and encourage me. Thus he\nwent on, speaking so cheerfully to me, and such cheerful things, that it\nwas a cordial to my very soul to hear him speak.\nWell, we went to dinner. I'm sure I had not ate a good meal hardly in a\ntwelvemonth, at least not of such a joint of meat as the loin of veal\nwas. I ate, indeed, very heartily, and so did he, and he made me drink\nthree or four glasses of wine; so that, in short, my spirits were lifted\nup to a degree I had not been used to, and I was not only cheerful, but\nmerry; and so he pressed me to be.\nI told him I had a great deal of reason to be merry, seeing he had been\nso kind to me, and had given me hopes of recovering me from the worst\ncircumstances that ever woman of any sort of fortune was sunk into; that\nhe could not but believe that what he had said to me was like life from\nthe dead; that it was like recovering one sick from the brink of the\ngrave; how I should ever make him a return any way suitable was what I\nhad not yet had time to think of; I could only say that I should never\nforget it while I had life, and should be always ready to acknowledge\nit.\nHe said that was all he desired of me; that his reward would be the\nsatisfaction of having rescued me from misery; that he found he was\nobliging one that knew what gratitude meant; that he would make it his\nbusiness to make me completely easy, first or last, if it lay in his\npower; and in the meantime he bade me consider of anything that I\nthought he might do for me, for my advantage, and in order to make me\nperfectly easy.\nAfter we had talked thus, he bade me be cheerful. \"Come,\" says he, \"lay\naside these melancholy things, and let us be merry.\" Amy waited at the\ntable, and she smiled and laughed, and was so merry she could hardly\ncontain it, for the girl loved me to an excess hardly to be described;\nand it was such an unexpected thing to hear any one talk to her\nmistress, that the wench was beside herself almost, and, as soon as\ndinner was over, Amy went upstairs, and put on her best clothes too, and\ncame down dressed like a gentlewoman.\nWe sat together talking of a thousand things--of what had been, and what\nwas to be--all the rest of the day, and in the evening he took his\nleave of me, with a thousand expressions of kindness and tenderness and\ntrue affection to me, but offered not the least of what my maid Amy had\nsuggested.\nAt his going away he took me in his arms, protested an honest kindness\nto me; said a thousand kind things to me, which I cannot now recollect;\nand, after kissing me twenty times or thereabouts, put a guinea into my\nhand, which, he said, was for my present supply, and told me that he\nwould see me again before it was out; also he gave Amy half-a-crown.\nWhen he was gone, \"Well, Amy,\" said I, \"are you convinced now that he is\nan honest as well as a true friend, and that there has been nothing, not\nthe least appearance of anything, of what you imagined in his\nbehaviour?\" \"Yes,\" says Amy, \"I am, but I admire at it. He is such a\nfriend as the world, sure, has not abundance of to show.\"\n\"I am sure,\" says I, \"he is such a friend as I have long wanted, and as\nI have as much need of as any creature in the world has or ever had.\"\nAnd, in short, I was so overcome with the comfort of it that I sat down\nand cried for joy a good while, as I had formerly cried for sorrow. Amy\nand I went to bed that night (for Amy lay with me) pretty early, but lay\nchatting almost all night about it, and the girl was so transported that\nshe got up two or three times in the night and danced about the room in\nher shift; in short, the girl was half distracted with the joy of it; a\ntestimony still of her violent affection for her mistress, in which no\nservant ever went beyond her.\nWe heard no more of him for two days, but the third day he came again;\nthen he told me, with the same kindness, that he had ordered me a supply\nof household goods for the furnishing the house; that, in particular, he\nhad sent me back all the goods that he had seized for rent, which\nconsisted, indeed, of the best of my former furniture. \"And now,\" says\nhe, \"I'll tell you what I have had in my head for you for your present\nsupply, and that is,\" says he, \"that the house being well furnished, you\nshall let it out to lodgings for the summer gentry,\" says he, \"by which\nyou will easily get a good comfortable subsistence, especially seeing\nyou shall pay me no rent for two years, nor after neither, unless you\ncan afford it.\"\nThis was the first view I had of living comfortably indeed, and it was a\nvery probable way, I must confess, seeing we had very good conveniences,\nsix rooms on a floor, and three stories high. While he was laying down\nthe scheme of my management, came a cart to the door with a load of\ngoods, and an upholsterer's man to put them up. They were chiefly the\nfurniture of two rooms which he had carried away for his two years'\nrent, with two fine cabinets, and some pier-glasses out of the parlour,\nand several other valuable things.\nThese were all restored to their places, and he told me he gave them me\nfreely, as a satisfaction for the cruelty he had used me with before;\nand the furniture of one room being finished and set up, he told me he\nwould furnish one chamber for himself, and would come and be one of my\nlodgers, if I would give him leave.\nI told him he ought not to ask me leave, who had so much right to make\nhimself welcome. So the house began to look in some tolerable figure,\nand clean; the garden also, in about a fortnight's work, began to look\nsomething less like a wilderness than it used to do; and he ordered me\nto put up a bill for letting rooms, reserving one for himself, to come\nto as he saw occasion.\nWhen all was done to his mind, as to placing the goods, he seemed very\nwell pleased, and we dined together again of his own providing; and the\nupholsterer's man gone, after dinner he took me by the hand. \"Come now,\nmadam,\" says he, \"you must show me your house\" (for he had a mind to see\neverything over again). \"No, sir,\" said I; \"but I'll go show you your\nhouse, if you please;\" so we went up through all the rooms, and in the\nroom which was appointed for himself Amy was doing something. \"Well,\nAmy,\" says he, \"I intend to lie with you to-morrow night.\" \"To-night if\nyou please, sir,\" says Amy very innocently; \"your room is quite ready.\"\n\"Well, Amy,\" says he, \"I am glad you are so willing.\" \"No,\" says Amy, \"I\nmean your chamber is ready to-night,\" and away she run out of the room,\nashamed enough; for the girl meant no harm, whatever she had said to me\nin private.\nHowever, he said no more then; but when Amy was gone he walked about the\nroom, and looked at everything, and taking me by the hand he kissed me,\nand spoke a great many kind, affectionate things to me indeed; as of his\nmeasures for my advantage, and what he would do to raise me again in the\nworld; told me that my afflictions and the conduct I had shown in\nbearing them to such an extremity, had so engaged him to me that he\nvalued me infinitely above all the women in the world; that though he\nwas under such engagements that he could not marry me (his wife and he\nhad been parted for some reasons, which make too long a story to\nintermix with mine), yet that he would be everything else that a woman\ncould ask in a husband; and with that he kissed me again, and took me in\nhis arms, but offered not the least uncivil action to me, and told me he\nhoped I would not deny him all the favours he should ask, because he\nresolved to ask nothing of me but what it was fit for a woman of virtue\nand modesty, for such he knew me to be, to yield.\nI confess the terrible pressure of my former misery, the memory of which\nlay heavy upon my mind, and the surprising kindness with which he had\ndelivered me, and, withal, the expectations of what he might still do\nfor me, were powerful things, and made me have scarce the power to deny\nhim anything he would ask. However, I told him thus, with an air of\ntenderness too, that he had done so much for me that I thought I ought\nto deny him nothing; only I hoped and depended upon him that he would\nnot take the advantage of the infinite obligations I was under to him,\nto desire anything of me the yielding to which would lay me lower in his\nesteem than I desired to be; that as I took him to be a man of honour,\nso I knew he could not like me better for doing anything that was below\na woman of honesty and good manners to do.\nHe told me that he had done all this for me, without so much as telling\nme what kindness or real affection he had for me, that I might not be\nunder any necessity of yielding to him in anything for want of bread;\nand he would no more oppress my gratitude now than he would my necessity\nbefore, nor ask anything, supposing he would stop his favours or\nwithdraw his kindness, if he was denied; it was true, he said, he might\ntell me more freely his mind now than before, seeing I had let him see\nthat I accepted his assistance, and saw that he was sincere in his\ndesign of serving me; that he had gone thus far to show me that he was\nkind to me, but that now he would tell me that he loved me, and yet\nwould demonstrate that his love was both honourable, and that what he\nshould desire was what he might honestly ask and I might honestly grant.\nI answered that, within those two limitations, I was sure I ought to\ndeny him nothing, and I should think myself not ungrateful only, but\nvery unjust, if I should; so he said no more, but I observed he kissed\nme more, and took me in his arms in a kind of familiar way, more than\nusual, and which once or twice put me in mind of my maid Amy's words;\nand yet, I must acknowledge, I was so overcome with his goodness to me\nin those many kind things he had done that I not only was easy at what\nhe did and made no resistance, but was inclined to do the like, whatever\nhe had offered to do. But he went no farther than what I have said, nor\ndid he offer so much as to sit down on the bedside with me, but took his\nleave, said he loved me tenderly, and would convince me of it by such\ndemonstrations as should be to my satisfaction. I told him I had a great\ndeal of reason to believe him, that he was full master of the whole\nhouse and of me, as far as was within the bounds we had spoken of, which\nI believe he would not break, and asked him if he would not lodge there\nthat night.\nHe said he could not well stay that night, business requiring him in\nLondon, but added, smiling, that he would come the next day and take a\nnight's lodging with me. I pressed him to stay that night, and told him\nI should be glad a friend so valuable should be under the same roof with\nme; and indeed I began at that time not only to be much obliged to him,\nbut to love him too, and that in a manner that I had not been acquainted\nwith myself.\nOh! let no woman slight the temptation that being generously delivered\nfrom trouble is to any spirit furnished with gratitude and just\nprinciples. This gentleman had freely and voluntarily delivered me from\nmisery, from poverty, and rags; he had made me what I was, and put me\ninto a way to be even more than I ever was, namely, to live happy and\npleased, and on his bounty I depended. What could I say to this\ngentleman when he pressed me to yield to him, and argued the lawfulness\nof it? But of that in its place.\nI pressed him again to stay that night, and told him it was the first\ncompletely happy night that I had ever had in the house in my life, and\nI should be very sorry to have it be without his company, who was the\ncause and foundation of it all; that we would be innocently merry, but\nthat it could never be without him; and, in short, I courted him so,\nthat he said he could not deny me, but he would take his horse and go\nto London, do the business he had to do, which, it seems, was to pay a\nforeign bill that was due that night, and would else be protested, and\nthat he would come back in three hours at farthest, and sup with me; but\nbade me get nothing there, for since I was resolved to be merry, which\nwas what he desired above all things, he would send me something from\nLondon. \"And we will make it a wedding supper, my dear,\" says he; and\nwith that word took me in his arms, and kissed me so vehemently that I\nmade no question but he intended to do everything else that Amy had\ntalked of.\nI started a little at the word wedding. \"What do ye mean, to call it by\nsuch a name?\" says I; adding, \"We will have a supper, but t'other is\nimpossible, as well on your side as mine.\" He laughed. \"Well,\" says he,\n\"you shall call it what you will, but it may be the same thing, for I\nshall satisfy you it is not so impossible as you make it.\"\n\"I don't understand you,\" said I. \"Have not I a husband and you a wife?\"\n\"Well, well,\" says he, \"we will talk of that after supper;\" so he rose\nup, gave me another kiss, and took his horse for London.\nThis kind of discourse had fired my blood, I confess, and I knew not\nwhat to think of it. It was plain now that he intended to lie with me,\nbut how he would reconcile it to a legal thing, like a marriage, that I\ncould not imagine. We had both of us used Amy with so much intimacy, and\ntrusted her with everything, having such unexampled instances of her\nfidelity, that he made no scruple to kiss me and say all these things to\nme before her; nor had he cared one farthing, if I would have let him\nlie with me, to have had Amy there too all night. When he was gone,\n\"Well, Amy,\" says I, \"what will all this come to now? I am all in a\nsweat at him.\" \"Come to, madam?\" says Amy. \"I see what it will come to;\nI must put you to bed to-night together.\" \"Why, you would not be so\nimpudent, you jade you,\" says I, \"would you?\" \"Yes, I would,\" says she,\n\"with all my heart, and think you both as honest as ever you were in\nyour lives.\"\n\"What ails the slut to talk so?\" said I. \"Honest! How can it be honest?\"\n\"Why, I'll tell you, madam,\" says Amy; \"I sounded it as soon as I heard\nhim speak, and it is very true too; he calls you widow, and such indeed\nyou are; for, as my master has left you so many years, he is dead, to be\nsure; at least he is dead to you; he is no husband. You are, and ought\nto be, free to marry who you will; and his wife being gone from him, and\nrefusing to lie with him, then he is a single man again as much as ever;\nand though you cannot bring the laws of the land to join you together,\nyet, one refusing to do the office of a wife, and the other of a\nhusband, you may certainly take one another fairly.\"\n\"Nay, Amy,\" says I, \"if I could take him fairly, you may be sure I'd\ntake him above all the men in the world; it turned the very heart within\nme when I heard him say he loved me. How could it be otherwise, when you\nknow what a condition I was in before, despised and trampled on by all\nthe world? I could have took him in my arms and kissed him as freely as\nhe did me, if it had not been for shame.\"\n\"Ay, and all the rest too,\" says Amy, \"at the first word. I don't see\nhow you can think of denying him anything. Has he not brought you out of\nthe devil's clutches, brought you out of the blackest misery that ever\npoor lady was reduced to? Can a woman deny such a man anything?\"\n\"Nay, I don't know what to do, Amy,\" says I. \"I hope he won't desire\nanything of that kind of me; I hope he won't attempt it. If he does, I\nknow not what to say to him.\"\n\"Not ask you!\" says Amy. \"Depend upon it, he will ask you, and you will\ngrant it too. I am sure my mistress is no fool. Come, pray, madam, let\nme go air you a clean shift; don't let him find you in foul linen the\nwedding-night.\"\n\"But that I know you to be a very honest girl, Amy,\" says I, \"you would\nmake me abhor you. Why, you argue for the devil, as if you were one of\nhis privy councillors.\"\n\"It's no matter for that, madam, I say nothing but what I think. You own\nyou love this gentleman, and he has given you sufficient testimony of\nhis affection to you; your conditions are alike unhappy, and he is of\nopinion that he may take another woman, his first wife having broke her\nhonour, and living from him; and that though the laws of the land will\nnot allow him to marry formally, yet that he may take another woman into\nhis arms, provided he keeps true to the other woman as a wife; nay, he\nsays it is usual to do so, and allowed by the custom of the place, in\nseveral countries abroad. And, I must own, I am of the same mind; else\nit is in the power of a whore, after she has jilted and abandoned her\nhusband, to confine him from the pleasure as well as convenience of a\nwoman all the days of his life, which would be very unreasonable, and,\nas times go, not tolerable to all people; and the like on your side,\nmadam.\"\nHad I now had my senses about me, and had my reason not been overcome by\nthe powerful attraction of so kind, so beneficent a friend; had I\nconsulted conscience and virtue, I should have repelled this Amy,\nhowever faithful and honest to me in other things, as a viper and engine\nof the devil. I ought to have remembered that neither he or I, either\nby the laws of God or man, could come together upon any other terms\nthan that of notorious adultery. The ignorant jade's argument, that he\nhad brought me out of the hands of the devil, by which she meant the\ndevil of poverty and distress, should have been a powerful motive to me\nnot to plunge myself into the jaws of hell, and into the power of the\nreal devil, in recompense for that deliverance. I should have looked\nupon all the good this man had done for me to have been the particular\nwork of the goodness of Heaven, and that goodness should have moved me\nto a return of duty and humble obedience. I should have received the\nmercy thankfully, and applied it soberly, to the praise and honour of my\nMaker; whereas, by this wicked course, all the bounty and kindness of\nthis gentleman became a snare to me, was a mere bait to the devil's\nhook; I received his kindness at the dear expense of body and soul,\nmortgaging faith, religion, conscience, and modesty for (as I may call\nit) a morsel of bread; or, if you will, ruined my soul from a principle\nof gratitude, and gave myself up to the devil, to show myself grateful\nto my benefactor. I must do the gentleman that justice as to say I\nverily believe that he did nothing but what he thought was lawful; and I\nmust do that justice upon myself as to say I did what my own conscience\nconvinced me, at the very time I did it, was horribly unlawful,\nscandalous, and abominable.\nBut poverty was my snare; dreadful poverty! The misery I had been in was\ngreat, such as would make the heart tremble at the apprehensions of its\nreturn; and I might appeal to any that has had any experience of the\nworld, whether one so entirely destitute as I was of all manner of all\nhelps or friends, either to support me or to assist me to support\nmyself, could withstand the proposal; not that I plead this as a\njustification of my conduct, but that it may move the pity even of those\nthat abhor the crime.\nBesides this, I was young, handsome, and, with all the mortifications I\nhad met with, was vain, and that not a little; and, as it was a new\nthing, so it was a pleasant thing to be courted, caressed, embraced, and\nhigh professions of affection made to me, by a man so agreeable and so\nable to do me good.\nAdd to this, that if I had ventured to disoblige this gentleman, I had\nno friend in the world to have recourse to; I had no prospect--no, not\nof a bit of bread; I had nothing before me but to fall back into the\nsame misery that I had been in before.\nAmy had but too much rhetoric in this cause; she represented all those\nthings in their proper colours; she argued them all with her utmost\nskill; and at last the merry jade, when she came to dress me, \"Look ye,\nmadam,\" said she, \"if you won't consent, tell him you will do as Rachel\ndid to Jacob, when she could have no children--put her maid to bed to\nhim; tell him you cannot comply with him, but there's Amy, he may ask\nher the question; she has promised me she won't deny you.\"\n\"And would you have me say so, Amy?\" said I.\n\"No, madam; but I would really have you do so. Besides, you are undone\nif you do not; and if my doing it would save you from being undone, as I\nsaid before, he shall, if he will; if he asks me, I won't deny him, not\nI; hang me if I do,\" says Amy.\n\"Well, I know not what to do,\" says I to Amy.\n\"Do!\" says Amy. \"Your choice is fair and plain. Here you may have a\nhandsome, charming gentleman, be rich, live pleasantly and in plenty, or\nrefuse him, and want a dinner, go in rags, live in tears; in short, beg\nand starve. You know this is the case, madam,\" says Amy. \"I wonder how\nyou can say you know not what to do.\"\n\"Well, Amy,\" says I, \"the case is as you say, and I think verily I must\nyield to him; but then,\" said I, moved by conscience, \"don't talk any\nmore of your cant of its being lawful that I ought to marry again, and\nthat he ought to marry again, and such stuff as that; 'tis all\nnonsense,\" says I, \"Amy, there's nothing in it; let me hear no more of\nthat, for if I yield, 'tis in vain to mince the matter, I am a whore,\nAmy; neither better nor worse, I assure you.\"\n\"I don't think so, madam, by no means,\" says Amy. \"I wonder how you can\ntalk so;\" and then she run on with her argument of the unreasonableness\nthat a woman should be obliged to live single, or a man to live single,\nin such cases as before. \"Well, Amy,\" said I, \"come, let us dispute no\nmore, for the longer I enter into that part, the greater my scruples\nwill be; but if I let it alone, the necessity of my present\ncircumstances is such that I believe I shall yield to him, if he should\nimportune me much about it; but I should be glad he would not do it at\nall, but leave me as I am.\"\n\"As to that, madam, you may depend,\" says Amy, \"he expects to have you\nfor his bedfellow to-night. I saw it plainly in his management all day;\nand at last he told you so too, as plain, I think, as he could.\" \"Well,\nwell, Amy,\" said I, \"I don't know what to say; if he will he must, I\nthink; I don't know how to resist such a man, that has done so much for\nme.\" \"I don't know how you should,\" says Amy.\nThus Amy and I canvassed the business between us; the jade prompted the\ncrime which I had but too much inclination to commit, that is to say,\nnot as a crime, for I had nothing of the vice in my constitution; my\nspirits were far from being high, my blood had no fire in it to kindle\nthe flame of desire; but the kindness and good humour of the man and\nthe dread of my own circumstances concurred to bring me to the point,\nand I even resolved, before he asked, to give up my virtue to him\nwhenever he should put it to the question.\nIn this I was a double offender, whatever he was, for I was resolved to\ncommit the crime, knowing and owning it to be a crime; he, if it was\ntrue as he said, was fully persuaded it was lawful, and in that\npersuasion he took the measures and used all the circumlocutions which I\nam going to speak of.\nAbout two hours after he was gone, came a Leadenhall basket-woman, with\na whole load of good things for the mouth (the particulars are not to\nthe purpose), and brought orders to get supper by eight o'clock.\nHowever, I did not intend to begin to dress anything till I saw him; and\nhe gave me time enough, for he came before seven, so that Amy, who had\ngotten one to help her, got everything ready in time.\nWe sat down to supper about eight, and were indeed very merry. Amy made\nus some sport, for she was a girl of spirit and wit, and with her talk\nshe made us laugh very often, and yet the jade managed her wit with all\nthe good manners imaginable.\nBut to shorten the story. After supper he took me up into his chamber,\nwhere Amy had made a good fire, and there he pulled out a great many\npapers, and spread them upon a little table, and then took me by the\nhand, and after kissing me very much, he entered into a discourse of his\ncircumstances and of mine, how they agreed in several things exactly;\nfor example, that I was abandoned of a husband in the prime of my youth\nand vigour, and he of a wife in his middle age; how the end of marriage\nwas destroyed by the treatment we had either of us received, and it\nwould be very hard that we should be tied by the formality of the\ncontract where the essence of it was destroyed. I interrupted him, and\ntold him there was a vast difference between our circumstances, and that\nin the most essential part, namely, that he was rich, and I was poor;\nthat he was above the world, and I infinitely below it; that his\ncircumstances were very easy, mine miserable, and this was an inequality\nthe most essential that could be imagined. \"As to that, my dear,\" says\nhe, \"I have taken such measures as shall make an equality still;\" and\nwith that he showed me a contract in writing, wherein he engaged himself\nto me to cohabit constantly with me, to provide for me in all respects\nas a wife, and repeating in the preamble a long account of the nature\nand reason of our living together, and an obligation in the penalty of\n\u00a37000 never to abandon me; and at last showed me a bond for \u00a3500, to be\npaid to me, or to my assigns, within three months after his death.\nHe read over all these things to me, and then, in a most moving,\naffectionate manner, and in words not to be answered, he said, \"Now, my\ndear, is this not sufficient? Can you object anything against it? If\nnot, as I believe you will not, then let us debate this matter no\nlonger.\" With that he pulled out a silk purse, which had threescore\nguineas in it, and threw them into my lap, and concluded all the rest of\nhis discourse with kisses and protestations of his love, of which indeed\nI had abundant proof.\nPity human frailty, you that read of a woman reduced in her youth and\nprime to the utmost misery and distress, and raised again, as above, by\nthe unexpected and surprising bounty of a stranger; I say, pity her if\nshe was not able, after all these things, to make any more resistance.\nHowever, I stood out a little longer still. I asked him how he could\nexpect that I could come into a proposal of such consequence the very\nfirst time it was moved to me; and that I ought, if I consented to it,\nto capitulate with him that he should never upbraid me with easiness and\nconsenting too soon. He said no; but, on the contrary, he would take it\nas a mark of the greatest kindness I could show him. Then he went on to\ngive reasons why there was no occasion to use the ordinary ceremony of\ndelay, or to wait a reasonable time of courtship, which was only to\navoid scandal; but, as this was private, it had nothing of that nature\nin it; that he had been courting me some time by the best of courtship,\nviz., doing acts of kindness to me; and that he had given testimonies of\nhis sincere affection to me by deeds, not by flattering trifles and the\nusual courtship of words, which were often found to have very little\nmeaning; that he took me, not as a mistress, but as his wife, and\nprotested it was clear to him he might lawfully do it, and that I was\nperfectly at liberty, and assured me, by all that it was possible for an\nhonest man to say, that he would treat me as his wife as long as he\nlived. In a word, he conquered all the little resistance I intended to\nmake; he protested he loved me above all the world, and begged I would\nfor once believe him; that he had never deceived me, and never would,\nbut would make it his study to make my life comfortable and happy, and\nto make me forget the misery I had gone through. I stood still a while,\nand said nothing; but seeing him eager for my answer, I smiled, and\nlooking up at him, \"And must I, then,\" says I, \"say yes at first asking?\nMust I depend upon your promise? Why, then,\" said I, \"upon the faith of\nthat promise, and in the sense of that inexpressible kindness you have\nshown me, you shall be obliged, and I will be wholly yours to the end of\nmy life;\" and with that I took his hand, which held me by the hand, and\ngave it a kiss.\nAnd thus, in gratitude for the favours I received from a man, was all\nsense of religion and duty to God, all regard to virtue and honour,\ngiven up at once, and we were to call one another man and wife, who, in\nthe sense of the laws both of God and our country, were no more than two\nadulterers; in short, a whore and a rogue. Nor, as I have said above,\nwas my conscience silent in it, though it seems his was; for I sinned\nwith open eyes, and thereby had a double guilt upon me. As I always\nsaid, his notions were of another kind, and he either was before of the\nopinion, or argued himself into it now, that we were both free and might\nlawfully marry.\nBut I was quite of another side--nay, and my judgment was right, but my\ncircumstances were my temptation; the terrors behind me looked blacker\nthan the terrors before me; and the dreadful argument of wanting bread,\nand being run into the horrible distresses I was in before, mastered all\nmy resolution, and I gave myself up as above.\nThe rest of the evening we spent very agreeably to me; he was perfectly\ngood-humoured, and was at that time very merry. Then he made Amy dance\nwith him, and I told him I would put Amy to bed to him. Amy said, with\nall her heart; she never had been a bride in her life. In short, he made\nthe girl so merry that, had he not been to lie with me the same night,\nI believe he would have played the fool with Amy for half-an-hour, and\nthe girl would no more have refused him than I intended to do. Yet\nbefore, I had always found her a very modest wench as any I ever saw in\nall my life; but, in short, the mirth of that night, and a few more such\nafterwards, ruined the girl's modesty for ever, as shall appear\nby-and-by, in its place.\nSo far does fooling and toying sometimes go that I know nothing a young\nwoman has to be more cautious of; so far had this innocent girl gone in\njesting between her and I, and in talking that she would let him lie\nwith her, if he would but be kinder to me, that at last she let him lie\nwith her in earnest; and so empty was I now of all principle, that I\nencouraged the doing it almost before my face.\nI say but too justly that I was empty of principle, because, as above, I\nhad yielded to him, not as deluded to believe it lawful, but as overcome\nby his kindness, and terrified at the fear of my own misery if he should\nleave me. So with my eyes open, and with my conscience, as I may say,\nawake, I sinned, knowing it to be a sin, but having no power to resist.\nWhen this had thus made a hole in my heart, and I was come to such a\nheight as to transgress against the light of my own conscience, I was\nthen fit for any wickedness, and conscience left off speaking where it\nfound it could not be heard.\nBut to return to our story. Having consented, as above, to his proposal,\nwe had not much more to do. He gave me my writings, and the bond for my\nmaintenance during his life, and for five hundred pounds after his\ndeath. And so far was he from abating his affection to me afterwards,\nthat two years after we were thus, as he called it, married, he made his\nwill, and gave me a thousand pounds more, and all my household stuff,\nplate, &c., which was considerable too.\nAmy put us to bed, and my new friend--I cannot call him husband--was so\nwell pleased with Amy for her fidelity and kindness to me that he paid\nher all the arrear of her wages that I owed her, and gave her five\nguineas over; and had it gone no farther, Amy had richly deserved what\nshe had, for never was a maid so true to her mistress in such dreadful\ncircumstances as I was in. Nor was what followed more her own fault than\nmine, who led her almost into it at first, and quite into it at last;\nand this may be a farther testimony what a hardness of crime I was now\narrived to, which was owing to the conviction, that was from the\nbeginning upon me, that I was a whore, not a wife; nor could I ever\nframe my mouth to call him husband or to say \"my husband\" when I was\nspeaking of him.\nWe lived, surely, the most agreeable life, the grand exception only\nexcepted, that ever two lived together. He was the most obliging,\ngentlemanly man, and the most tender of me, that ever woman gave herself\nup to. Nor was there ever the least interruption to our mutual kindness,\nno, not to the last day of his life. But I must bring Amy's disaster in\nat once, that I may have done with her.\nAmy was dressing me one morning, for now I had two maids, and Amy was my\nchambermaid. \"Dear madam,\" says Amy, \"what! a'nt you with child yet?\"\n\"No, Amy,\" says I; \"nor any sign of it.\"\n\"Law, madam!\" says Amy, \"what have you been doing? Why, you have been\nmarried a year and a half. I warrant you master would have got me with\nchild twice in that time.\" \"It may be so, Amy,\" says I. \"Let him try,\ncan't you?\" \"No,\" says Amy; \"you'll forbid it now. Before, I told you he\nshould, with all my heart; but I won't now, now he's all your own.\"\n\"Oh,\" says I, \"Amy, I'll freely give you my consent. It will be nothing\nat all to me. Nay, I'll put you to bed to him myself one night or other,\nif you are willing.\" \"No, madam, no,\" says Amy, \"not now he's yours.\"\n\"Why, you fool you,\" says I, \"don't I tell you I'll put you to bed to\nhim myself?\" \"Nay, nay,\" says Amy, \"if you put me to bed to him, that's\nanother case; I believe I shall not rise again very soon.\" \"I'll venture\nthat, Amy,\" says I.\nAfter supper that night, and before we were risen from table, I said to\nhim, Amy being by, \"Hark ye, Mr. ----, do you know that you are to lie\nwith Amy to-night?\" \"No, not I,\" says he; but turns to Amy, \"Is it so,\nAmy?\" says he. \"No, sir,\" says she. \"Nay, don't say no, you fool; did\nnot I promise to put you to bed to him?\" But the girl said \"No,\" still,\nand it passed off.\nAt night, when we came to go to bed, Amy came into the chamber to\nundress me, and her master slipped into bed first; then I began, and\ntold him all that Amy had said about my not being with child, and of her\nbeing with child twice in that time. \"Ay, Mrs. Amy,\" says he, \"I believe\nso too. Come hither, and, we'll try.\" But Amy did not go. \"Go, you\nfool,\" says I, \"can't you? I freely give you both leave.\" But Amy would\nnot go. \"Nay, you whore,\" says I, \"you said, if I would put you to bed,\nyou would with all your heart.\" And with that I sat her down, pulled off\nher stockings and shoes, and all her clothes piece by piece, and led her\nto the bed to him. \"Here,\" says I, \"try what you can do with your maid\nAmy.\" She pulled back a little, would not let me pull off her clothes at\nfirst, but it was hot weather, and she had not many clothes on, and\nparticularly no stays on; and at last, when she saw I was in earnest,\nshe let me do what I would. So I fairly stripped her, and then I threw\nopen the bed and thrust her in.\nI need say no more. This is enough to convince anybody that I did not\nthink him my husband, and that I had cast off all principle and all\nmodesty, and had effectually stifled conscience.\nAmy, I dare say, began now to repent, and would fain have got out of bed\nagain; but he said to her, \"Nay, Amy, you see your mistress has put you\nto bed; 'tis all her doing; you must blame her.\" So he held her fast,\nand the wench being naked in the bed with him, it was too late to look\nback, so she lay still and let him do what he would with her.\nHad I looked upon myself as a wife, you cannot suppose I would have been\nwilling to have let my husband lie with my maid, much less before my\nface, for I stood by all the while; but as I thought myself a whore, I\ncannot say but that it was something designed in my thoughts that my\nmaid should be a whore too, and should not reproach me with it.\nAmy, however, less vicious than I, was grievously out of sorts the next\nmorning, and cried and took on most vehemently, that she was ruined and\nundone, and there was no pacifying her; she was a whore, a slut, and she\nwas undone! undone! and cried almost all day. I did all I could to\npacify her. \"A whore!\" says I. \"Well, and am not I a whore as well as\nyou?\" \"No, no,\" says Amy; \"no, you are not, for you are married.\" \"Not\nI, Amy,\" says I; \"I do not pretend to it. He may marry you to-morrow,\nif he will, for anything I could do to hinder it. I am not married. I do\nnot look upon it as anything.\" Well, all did not pacify Amy, but she\ncried two or three days about it; but it wore off by degrees.\nBut the case differed between Amy and her master exceedingly; for Amy\nretained the same kind temper she always had; but, on the contrary, he\nwas quite altered, for he hated her heartily, and could, I believe, have\nkilled her after it, and he told me so, for he thought this a vile\naction; whereas what he and I had done he was perfectly easy in, thought\nit just, and esteemed me as much his wife as if we had been married from\nour youth, and had neither of us known any other; nay, he loved me, I\nbelieve, as entirely as if I had been the wife of his youth. Nay, he\ntold me it was true, in one sense, that he had two wives, but that I was\nthe wife of his affection, the other the wife of his aversion.\nI was extremely concerned at the aversion he had taken to my maid Amy,\nand used my utmost skill to get it altered; for though he had, indeed,\ndebauched the wench, I knew that I was the principal occasion of it; and\nas he was the best-humoured man in the world, I never gave him over till\nI prevailed with him to be easy with her, and as I was now become the\ndevil's agent, to make others as wicked as myself, I brought him to lie\nwith her again several times after that, till at last, as the poor girl\nsaid, so it happened, and she was really with child.\nShe was terribly concerned at it, and so was he too. \"Come, my dear,\"\nsays I, \"when Rachel put her handmaid to bed to Jacob, she took the\nchildren as her own. Don't be uneasy; I'll take the child as my own. Had\nnot I a hand in the frolic of putting her to bed to you? It was my fault\nas much as yours.\" So I called Amy, and encouraged her too, and told her\nthat I would take care of the child and her too, and added the same\nargument to her. \"For,\" says I, \"Amy, it was all my fault. Did not I\ndrag your clothes off your back, and put you to bed to him?\" Thus I,\nthat had, indeed, been the cause of all the wickedness between them,\nencouraged them both, when they had any remorse about it, and rather\nprompted them to go on with it than to repent it.\nWhen Amy grew big she went to a place I had provided for her, and the\nneighbours knew nothing but that Amy and I was parted. She had a fine\nchild indeed, a daughter, and we had it nursed; and Amy came again in\nabout half a year to live with her old mistress; but neither my\ngentleman, or Amy either, cared for playing that game over again; for,\nas he said, the jade might bring him a houseful of children to keep.\nWe lived as merrily and as happily after this as could be expected,\nconsidering our circumstances; I mean as to the pretended marriage, &c.;\nand as to that, my gentleman had not the least concern about him for it.\nBut as much as I was hardened, and that was as much as I believe ever\nany wicked creature was, yet I could not help it, there was and would be\nhours of intervals and of dark reflections which came involuntarily in,\nand thrust in sighs into the middle of all my songs; and there would be\nsometimes a heaviness of heart which intermingled itself with all my\njoy, and which would often fetch a tear from my eye. And let others\npretend what they will, I believe it impossible to be otherwise with\nanybody. There can be no substantial satisfaction in a life of known\nwickedness; conscience will, and does often, break in upon them at\nparticular times, let them do what they can to prevent it.\nBut I am not to preach, but to relate; and whatever loose reflections\nwere, and how often soever those dark intervals came on, I did my utmost\nto conceal them from him; ay, and to suppress and smother them too in\nmyself; and, to outward appearance, we lived as cheerfully and agreeably\nas it was possible for any couple in the world to live.\nAfter I had thus lived with him something above two years, truly I found\nmyself with child too. My gentleman was mightily pleased at it, and\nnothing could be kinder than he was in the preparations he made for me,\nand for my lying-in, which was, however, very private, because I cared\nfor as little company as possible; nor had I kept up my neighbourly\nacquaintance, so that I had nobody to invite upon such an occasion.\nI was brought to bed very well (of a daughter too, as well as Amy), but\nthe child died at about six weeks old, so all that work was to do over\nagain--that is to say, the charge, the expense, the travail, &c.\nThe next year I made him amends, and brought him a son, to his great\nsatisfaction. It was a charming child, and did very well. After this my\nhusband, as he called himself, came to me one evening, and told me he\nhad a very difficult thing happened to him, which he knew not what to do\nin, or how to resolve about, unless I would make him easy; this was,\nthat his occasions required him to go over to France for about two\nmonths.\n\"Well, my dear,\" says I, \"and how shall I make you easy?\"\n\"Why, by consenting to let me go,\" says he; \"upon which condition, I'll\ntell you the occasion of my going, that you may judge of the necessity\nthere is for it on my side.\" Then, to make me easy in his going, he told\nme he would make his will before he went, which should be to my full\nsatisfaction.\nI told him the last part was so kind that I could not decline the first\npart, unless he would give me leave to add that, if it was not for\nputting him to an extraordinary expense, I would go over along with him.\nHe was so pleased with this offer that he told me he would give me full\nsatisfaction for it, and accept of it too; so he took me to London with\nhim the next day, and there he made his will, and showed it to me, and\nsealed it before proper witnesses, and then gave it to me to keep. In\nthis will he gave a thousand pounds to a person that we both knew very\nwell, in trust, to pay it, with the interest from the time of his\ndecease, to me or my assigns; then he willed the payment of my jointure,\nas he called it, viz., his bond of five hundred pounds after his death;\nalso, he gave me all my household stuff, plate, &c.\nThis was a most engaging thing for a man to do to one under my\ncircumstances; and it would have been hard, as I told him, to deny him\nanything, or to refuse to go with him anywhere. So we settled everything\nas well as we could, left Amy in charge with the house, and for his\nother business, which was in jewels, he had two men he intrusted, who he\nhad good security for, and who managed for him, and corresponded with\nhim.\nThings being thus concerted, we went away to France, arrived safe at\nCalais, and by easy journeys came in eight days more to Paris, where we\nlodged in the house of an English merchant of his acquaintance, and was\nvery courteously entertained.\nMy gentleman's business was with some persons of the first rank, and to\nwhom he had sold some jewels of very good value, and received a great\nsum of money in specie; and, as he told me privately, he gained three\nthousand pistoles by his bargain, but would not suffer the most intimate\nfriend he had there to know what he had received; for it is not so safe\na thing in Paris to have a great sum of money in keeping as it might be\nin London.\nWe made this journey much longer than we intended, and my gentleman sent\nfor one of his managers in London to come over to us in Paris with some\ndiamonds, and sent him back to London again to fetch more. Then other\nbusiness fell into his hands so unexpectedly that I began to think we\nshould take up our constant residence there, which I was not very averse\nto, it being my native country, and I spoke the language perfectly well.\nSo we took a good house in Paris, and lived very well there; and I sent\nfor Amy to come over to me, for I lived gallantly, and my gentleman was\ntwo or three times going to keep me a coach, but I declined it,\nespecially at Paris, but as they have those conveniences by the day\nthere, at a certain rate, I had an equipage provided for me whenever I\npleased, and I lived here in a very good figure, and might have lived\nhigher if I pleased.\nBut in the middle of all this felicity a dreadful disaster befell me,\nwhich entirely unhinged all my affairs, and threw me back into the same\nstate of life that I was in before; with this one happy exception,\nhowever, that whereas before I was poor, even to misery, now I was not\nonly provided for, but very rich.\nMy gentleman had the name in Paris for a rich man, and indeed he was so,\nthough not so immensely rich as people imagined; but that which was\nfatal to him was, that he generally carried a shagreen case in his\npocket, especially when he went to court, or to the houses of any of the\nprinces of the blood, in which he had jewels of very great value.\nIt happened one day that, being to go to Versailles to wait upon the\nPrince of ----, he came up into my chamber in the morning, and laid out\nhis jewel-case, because he was not going to show any jewels, but to get\na foreign bill accepted, which he had received from Amsterdam; so, when\nhe gave me the case, he said, \"My dear, I think I need not carry this\nwith me, because it may be I may not come back till night, and it is too\nmuch to venture.\" I returned, \"Then, my dear, you shan't go.\" \"Why?\"\nsays he. \"Because, as they are too much for you, so you are too much for\nme to venture, and you shall not go, unless you will promise me not to\nstay so as to come back in the night.\"\n\"I hope there's no danger,\" said he, \"seeing that I have nothing about\nme of any value; and therefore, lest I should, take that too,\" says he,\nand gives me his gold watch and a rich diamond which he had in a ring,\nand always wore on his finger.\n\"Well, but, my dear,\" says I, \"you make me more uneasy now than before;\nfor if you apprehend no danger, why do you use this caution? and if you\napprehend there is danger, why do you go at all?\"\n\"There is no danger,\" says he, \"if I do not stay late, and I do not\ndesign to do so.\"\n\"Well, but promise me, then, that you won't,\" says I, \"or else I cannot\nlet you go.\"\n\"I won't indeed, my dear,\" says he, \"unless I am obliged to it. I assure\nyou I do not intend it; but if I should, I am not worth robbing now, for\nI have nothing about me but about six pistoles in my little purse and\nthat little ring,\" showing me a small diamond ring, worth about ten or\ntwelve pistoles, which he put upon his finger, in the room of the rich\none he usually wore.\n[Illustration: THE JEWELLER IS ABOUT TO LEAVE FOR VERSAILLES\n_And gives me his gold watch and a rich diamond which he had in a ring,\nand always wore on his finger_]\nI still pressed him not to stay late, and he said he would not. \"But if\nI am kept late,\" says he, \"beyond my expectation, I'll stay all night,\nand come next morning.\" This seemed a very good caution; but still my\nmind was very uneasy about him, and I told him so, and entreated him\nnot to go. I told him I did not know what might be the reason, but that\nI had a strange terror upon my mind about his going, and that if he did\ngo, I was persuaded some harm would attend him. He smiled, and returned,\n\"Well, my dear, if it should be so, you are now richly provided for; all\nthat I have here I give to you.\" And with that he takes up the casket or\ncase, \"Here,\" says he, \"hold your hand; there is a good estate for you\nin this case; if anything happens to me 'tis all your own. I give it\nyou for yourself;\" and with that he put the casket, the fine ring, and\nhis gold watch all into my hands, and the key of his scrutoire besides,\nadding, \"And in my scrutoire there is some money; it is all your own.\"\nI stared at him as if I was frighted, for I thought all his face looked\nlike a death's-head; and then immediately I thought I perceived his head\nall bloody, and then his clothes looked bloody too, and immediately it\nall went off, and he looked as he really did. Immediately I fell\na-crying, and hung about him. \"My dear,\" said I, \"I am frighted to\ndeath; you shall not go. Depend upon it some mischief will befall you.\"\nI did not tell him how my vapourish fancy had represented him to me;\nthat, I thought, was not proper. Besides, he would only have laughed at\nme, and would have gone away with a jest about it; but I pressed him\nseriously not to go that day, or, if he did, to promise me to come home\nto Paris again by daylight. He looked a little graver then than he did\nbefore, told me he was not apprehensive of the least danger, but if\nthere was, he would either take care to come in the day, or, as he had\nsaid before, would stay all night.\nBut all these promises came to nothing, for he was set upon in the open\nday and robbed by three men on horseback, masked, as he went; and one of\nthem, who, it seems, rifled him while the rest stood to stop the coach,\nstabbed him into the body with a sword, so that he died immediately. He\nhad a footman behind the coach, who they knocked down with the stock or\nbutt-end of a carbine. They were supposed to kill him because of the\ndisappointment they met with in not getting his case or casket of\ndiamonds, which they knew he carried about him; and this was supposed\nbecause, after they had killed him, they made the coachman drive out of\nthe road a long way over the heath, till they came to a convenient\nplace, where they pulled him out of the coach and searched his clothes\nmore narrowly than they could do while he was alive. But they found\nnothing but his little ring, six pistoles, and the value of about seven\nlivres in small moneys.\nThis was a dreadful blow to me, though I cannot say I was so surprised\nas I should otherwise have been, for all the while he was gone my mind\nwas oppressed with the weight of my own thoughts, and I was as sure\nthat I should never see him any more that I think nothing could be like\nit. The impression was so strong that I think nothing could make so deep\na wound that was imaginary; and I was so dejected and disconsolate that,\nwhen I received the news of his disaster, there was no room for any\nextraordinary alteration in me. I had cried all that day, ate nothing,\nand only waited, as I might say, to receive the dismal news, which I had\nbrought to me about five o'clock in the afternoon.\nI was in a strange country, and, though I had a pretty many\nacquaintances, had but very few friends that I could consult on this\noccasion. All possible inquiry was made after the rogues that had been\nthus barbarous, but nothing could be heard of them; nor was it possible\nthat the footman could make any discovery of them by his description,\nfor they knocked him down immediately, so that he knew nothing of what\nwas done afterwards. The coachman was the only man that could say\nanything, and all his account amounted to no more than this, that one of\nthem had soldier's clothes, but he could not remember the particulars of\nhis mounting, so as to know what regiment he belonged to; and as to\ntheir faces, that he could know nothing of, because they had all of them\nmasks on.\nI had him buried as decently as the place would permit a Protestant\nstranger to be buried, and made some of the scruples and difficulties on\nthat account easy by the help of money to a certain person, who went\nimpudently to the curate of the parish of St. Sulpitius, in Paris, and\ntold him that the gentleman that was killed was a Catholic; that the\nthieves had taken from him a cross of gold, set with diamonds, worth six\nthousand livres; that his widow was a Catholic, and had sent by him\nsixty crowns to the church of ----, for masses to be said for the repose\nof his soul. Upon all which, though not one word was true, he was buried\nwith all the ceremonies of the Roman Church.\nI think I almost cried myself to death for him, for I abandoned myself\nto all the excesses of grief; and indeed I loved him to a degree\ninexpressible; and considering what kindness he had shown me at first,\nand how tenderly he had used me to the last, what could I do less?\nThen the manner of his death was terrible and frightful to me, and,\nabove all, the strange notices I had of it. I had never pretended to the\nsecond-sight, or anything of that kind, but certainly, if any one ever\nhad such a thing, I had it at this time, for I saw him as plainly in all\nthose terrible shapes as above; first, as a skeleton, not dead only, but\nrotten and wasted; secondly, as killed, and his face bloody; and,\nthirdly, his clothes bloody, and all within the space of one minute, or\nindeed of a very few moments.\nThese things amazed me, and I was a good while as one stupid. However,\nafter some time I began to recover, and look into my affairs. I had the\nsatisfaction not to be left in distress, or in danger of poverty. On the\ncontrary, besides what he had put into my hands fairly in his lifetime,\nwhich amounted to a very considerable value, I found above seven hundred\npistoles in gold in his scrutoire, of which he had given me the key; and\nI found foreign bills accepted for about twelve thousand livres; so\nthat, in a word, I found myself possessed of almost ten thousand pounds\nsterling in a very few days after the disaster.\nThe first thing I did upon this occasion was to send a letter to my\nmaid, as I still called her, Amy, wherein I gave her an account of my\ndisaster, how my husband, as she called him (for I never called him so),\nwas murdered; and as I did not know how his relations, or his wife's\nfriends might act upon that occasion, I ordered her to convey away all\nthe plate, linen, and other things of value, and to secure them in a\nperson's hands that I directed her to, and then to sell or dispose of\nthe furniture of the house, if she could, and so, without acquainting\nanybody with the reason of her going, withdraw; sending notice to his\nhead manager at London that the house was quitted by the tenant, and\nthey might come and take possession of it for the executors. Amy was so\ndexterous, and did her work so nimbly, that she gutted the house, and\nsent the key to the said manager, almost as soon as he had notice of the\nmisfortune that befell their master.\nUpon their receiving the surprising news of his death, the head manager\ncame over to Paris, and came to the house. I made no scruple of calling\nmyself Madame ----, the widow of Monsieur ----, the English jeweller.\nAnd as I spoke French naturally, I did not let him know but that I was\nhis wife, married in France, and that I had not heard that he had any\nwife in England, but pretended to be surprised, and exclaim against him\nfor so base an action; and that I had good friends in Poictou, where I\nwas born, who would take care to have justice done me in England out of\nhis estate.\nI should have observed that, as soon as the news was public of a man\nbeing murdered, and that he was a jeweller, fame did me the favour as to\npublish presently that he was robbed of his casket of jewels, which he\nalways carried about him. I confirmed this, among my daily lamentations\nfor his disaster, and added that he had with him a fine diamond ring,\nwhich he was known to wear frequently about him, valued at one hundred\npistoles, a gold watch, and a great quantity of diamonds of inestimable\nvalue in his casket, which jewels he was carrying to the Prince of\n----, to show some of them to him; and the prince owned that he had\nspoken to him to bring some such jewels, to let him see them. But I\nsorely repented this part afterward, as you shall hear.\nThis rumour put an end to all inquiry after his jewels, his ring, or his\nwatch; and as for the seven hundred pistoles, that I secured. For the\nbills which were in hand, I owned I had them, but that, as I said I\nbrought my husband thirty thousand livres portion, I claimed the said\nbills, which came to not above twelve thousand livres, for my _amende_;\nand this, with the plate and the household stuff, was the principal of\nall his estate which they could come at. As to the foreign bill which he\nwas going to Versailles to get accepted, it was really lost with him;\nbut his manager, who had remitted the bill to him, by way of Amsterdam,\nbringing over the second bill, the money was saved, as they call it,\nwhich would otherwise have been also gone; the thieves who robbed and\nmurdered him were, to be sure, afraid to send anybody to get the bill\naccepted, for that would undoubtedly have discovered them.\nBy this time my maid Amy was arrived, and she gave me an account of her\nmanagement, and how she had secured everything, and that she had quitted\nthe house, and sent the key to the head manager of his business, and\nlet me know how much she had made of everything very punctually and\nhonestly.\nI should have observed, in the account of his dwelling with me so long\nat ----, that he never passed for anything there but a lodger in the\nhouse; and though he was landlord, that did not alter the case. So that\nat his death, Amy coming to quit the house and give them the key, there\nwas no affinity between that and the case of their master who was newly\nkilled.\nI got good advice at Paris from an eminent lawyer, a counsellor of the\nParliament there, and laying my case before him, he directed me to make\na process in dower upon the estate, for making good my new fortune upon\nmatrimony, which accordingly I did; and, upon the whole, the manager\nwent back to England well satisfied that he had gotten the unaccepted\nbill of exchange, which was for two thousand five hundred pounds, with\nsome other things, which together amounted to seventeen thousand livres;\nand thus I got rid of him.\nI was visited with great civility on this sad occasion of the loss of my\nhusband, as they thought him, by a great many ladies of quality. And the\nPrince of ----, to whom it was reported he was carrying the jewels, sent\nhis gentleman with a very handsome compliment of condolence to me; and\nhis gentleman, whether with or without order, hinted as if his Highness\ndid intend to have visited me himself, but that some accident, which he\nmade a long story of, had prevented him.\nBy the concourse of ladies and others that thus came to visit me, I\nbegan to be much known; and as I did not forget to set myself out with\nall possible advantage, considering the dress of a widow, which in those\ndays was a most frightful thing; I say, as I did thus from my own\nvanity, for I was not ignorant that I was very handsome; I say, on this\naccount I was soon made very public, and was known by the name of _La\nbelle veufeu de Poictou_, or the pretty widow of Poictou. As I was very\nwell pleased to see myself thus handsomely used in my affliction, it\nsoon dried up all my tears; and though I appeared as a widow, yet, as we\nsay in England, it was of a widow comforted. I took care to let the\nladies see that I knew how to receive them; that I was not at a loss how\nto behave to any of them; and, in short, I began to be very popular\nthere. But I had an occasion afterwards which made me decline that kind\nof management, as you shall hear presently.\nAbout four days after I had received the compliments of condolence from\nthe Prince ----, the same gentleman he had sent before came to tell me\nthat his Highness was coming to give me a visit. I was indeed surprised\nat that, and perfectly at a loss how to behave. However, as there was\nno remedy, I prepared to receive him as well as I could. It was not many\nminutes after but he was at the door, and came in, introduced by his own\ngentleman, as above, and after by my woman Amy.\nHe treated me with abundance of civility, and condoled handsomely on the\nloss of my husband, and likewise the manner of it. He told me he\nunderstood he was coming to Versailles to himself, to show him some\njewels; that it was true that he had discoursed with him about jewels,\nbut could not imagine how any villains should hear of his coming at that\ntime with them; that he had not ordered him to attend with them at\nVersailles, but told him that he would come to Paris by such a day, so\nthat he was no way accessory to the disaster. I told him gravely I knew\nvery well that all his Highness had said of that part was true; that\nthese villains knew his profession, and knew, no doubt, that he always\ncarried a casket of jewels about him, and that he always wore a diamond\nring on his finger worth a hundred pistoles, which report had magnified\nto five hundred; and that, if he had been going to any other place, it\nwould have been the same thing. After this his Highness rose up to go,\nand told me he had resolved, however, to make me some reparation; and\nwith these words put a silk purse into my hand with a hundred pistoles,\nand told me he would make me a farther compliment of a small pension,\nwhich his gentleman would inform me of.\nYou may be sure I behaved with a due sense of so much goodness, and\noffered to kneel to kiss his hand; but he took me up and saluted me, and\nsat down again (though before he made as if he was going away), making\nme sit down by him.\nHe then began to talk with me more familiarly; told me he hoped I was\nnot left in bad circumstances; that Mr. ---- was reputed to be very rich,\nand that he had gained lately great sums by some jewels, and he hoped,\nhe said, that I had still a fortune agreeable to the condition I had\nlived in before.\nI replied, with some tears, which, I confess, were a little forced, that\nI believed, if Mr. ---- had lived, we should have been out of danger of\nwant, but that it was impossible to estimate the loss which I had\nsustained, besides that of the life of my husband; that, by the opinion\nof those that knew something of his affairs, and of what value the\njewels were which he intended to have shown to his Highness, he could\nnot have less about him than the value of a hundred thousand livres;\nthat it was a fatal blow to me, and to his whole family, especially that\nthey should be lost in such a manner.\nHis Highness returned, with an air of concern, that he was very sorry\nfor it; but he hoped, if I settled in Paris, I might find ways to\nrestore my fortune; at the same time he complimented me upon my being\nvery handsome, as he was pleased to call it, and that I could not fail\nof admirers. I stood up and humbly thanked his Highness, but told him I\nhad no expectations of that kind; that I thought I should be obliged to\ngo over to England, to look after my husband's effects there, which, I\nwas told, were considerable, but that I did not know what justice a poor\nstranger would get among them; and as for Paris, my fortune being so\nimpaired, I saw nothing before me but to go back to Poictou to my\nfriends, where some of my relations, I hoped, might do something for me,\nand added that one of my brothers was an abbot at ----, near Poictiers.\nHe stood up, and taking me by the hand, led me to a large looking-glass,\nwhich made up the pier in the front of the parlour. \"Look there, madam,\"\nsaid he; \"is it fit that that face\" (pointing to my figure in the glass)\n\"should go back to Poictou? No, madam,\" says he; \"stay and make some\ngentleman of quality happy, that may, in return, make you forget all\nyour sorrows;\" and with that he took me in his arms, and kissing me\ntwice, told me he would see me again, but with less ceremony.\nSome little time after this, but the same day, his gentleman came to me\nagain, and with great ceremony and respect, delivered me a black box\ntied with a scarlet riband and sealed with a noble coat-of-arms, which,\nI suppose, was the prince's.\nThere was in it a grant from his Highness, or an assignment--I know not\nwhich to call it--with a warrant to his banker to pay me two thousand\nlivres a year during my stay in Paris, as the widow of Monsieur ----,\nthe jeweller, mentioning the horrid murder of my late husband as the\noccasion of it, as above.\nI received it with great submission, and expressions of being infinitely\nobliged to his master, and of my showing myself on all occasions his\nHighness's most obedient servant; and after giving my most humble duty\nto his Highness, with the utmost acknowledgments of the obligation, &c.,\nI went to a little cabinet, and taking out some money, which made a\nlittle sound in taking it out, offered to give him five pistoles.\nHe drew back, but with the greatest respect, and told me he humbly\nthanked me, but that he durst not take a farthing; that his Highness\nwould take it so ill of him, he was sure he would never see his face\nmore; but that he would not fail to acquaint his Highness what respect I\nhad offered; and added, \"I assure you, madam, you are more in the good\ngraces of my master, the Prince of ----, than you are aware of; and I\nbelieve you will hear more of him.\"\nNow I began to understand him, and resolved, if his Highness did come\nagain, he should see me under no disadvantages, if I could help it. I\ntold him, if his Highness did me the honour to see me again, I hoped he\nwould not let me be so surprised as I was before; that I would be glad\nto have some little notice of it, and would be obliged to him if he\nwould procure it me. He told me he was very sure that when his Highness\nintended to visit me he should be sent before to give me notice of it,\nand that he would give me as much warning of it as possible.\nHe came several times after this on the same errand, that is, about the\nsettlement, the grant requiring several things yet to be done for making\nit payable without going every time to the prince again for a fresh\nwarrant. The particulars of this part I did not understand; but as soon\nas it was finished, which was above two months, the gentleman came one\nafternoon, and said his Highness designed to visit me in the evening,\nbut desired to be admitted without ceremony.\nI prepared not my rooms only, but myself; and when he came in there was\nnobody appeared in the house but his gentleman and my maid Amy; and of\nher I bid the gentleman acquaint his Highness that she was an\nEnglishwoman, that she did not understand a word of French, and that she\nwas one also that might be trusted.\nWhen he came into my room, I fell down at his feet before he could come\nto salute me, and with words that I had prepared, full of duty and\nrespect, thanked him for his bounty and goodness to a poor, desolate\nwoman, oppressed under the weight of so terrible a disaster; and refused\nto rise till he would allow me the honour to kiss his hand.\n\"_Levez vous donc_,\" says the prince, taking me in his arms; \"I design\nmore favours for you than this trifle;\" and going on, he added, \"You\nshall for the future find a friend where you did not look for it, and I\nresolve to let you see how kind I can be to one who is to me the most\nagreeable creature on earth.\"\nI was dressed in a kind of half mourning, had turned off my weeds, and\nmy head, though I had yet no ribands or lace, was so dressed as failed\nnot to set me out with advantage enough, for I began to understand his\nmeaning; and the prince professed I was the most beautiful creature on\nearth. \"And where have I lived,\" says he, \"and how ill have I been\nserved, that I should never till now be showed the finest woman in\nFrance!\"\nThis was the way in all the world the most likely to break in upon my\nvirtue, if I had been mistress of any; for I was now become the vainest\ncreature upon earth, and particularly of my beauty, which as other\npeople admired, so I became every day more foolishly in love with myself\nthan before.\nHe said some very kind things to me after this, and sat down with me for\nan hour or more, when, getting up and calling his gentleman by his name,\nhe threw open the door: \"_Au boire_,\" says he; upon which his gentleman\nimmediately brought up a little table covered with a fine damask cloth,\nthe table no bigger than he could bring in his two hands, but upon it\nwas set two decanters, one of champagne and the other of water, six\nsilver plates, and a service of fine sweetmeats in fine china dishes, on\na set of rings standing up about twenty inches high, one above another.\nBelow was three roasted partridges and a quail. As soon as his gentleman\nhad set it all down, he ordered him to withdraw. \"Now,\" says the prince,\n\"I intend to sup with you.\"\nWhen he sent away his gentleman, I stood up and offered to wait on his\nHighness while he ate; but he positively refused, and told me, \"No;\nto-morrow you shall be the widow of Monsieur ----, the jeweller, but\nto-night you shall be my mistress; therefore sit here,\" says he, \"and\neat with me, or I will get up and serve.\"\nI would then have called up my woman Amy, but I thought that would not\nbe proper neither; so I made my excuse, that since his Highness would\nnot let his own servant wait, I would not presume to let my woman come\nup; but if he would please to let me wait, it would be my honour to fill\nhis Highness's wine. But, as before, he would by no means allow me;\nso we sat and ate together.\n[Illustration: THE VISIT OF THE PRINCE\n_And refused to rise till he would allow me the honour to kiss his\nhand_]\n\"Now, madam,\" says the prince, \"give me leave to lay aside my character;\nlet us talk together with the freedom of equals. My quality sets me at a\ndistance from you, and makes you ceremonious. Your beauty exalts you to\nmore than an equality. I must, then, treat you as lovers do their\nmistresses, but I cannot speak the language; it is enough to tell you\nhow agreeable you are to me, how I am surprised at your beauty, and\nresolve to make you happy, and to be happy with you.\"\nI knew not what to say to him a good while, but blushed, and looking up\ntowards him, said I was already made happy in the favour of a person of\nsuch rank, and had nothing to ask of his Highness but that he would\nbelieve me infinitely obliged.\nAfter he had eaten, he poured the sweetmeats into my lap; and the wine\nbeing out, he called his gentleman again to take away the table, who, at\nfirst, only took the cloth and the remains of what was to eat away; and,\nlaying another cloth, set the table on one side of the room with a noble\nservice of plate upon it, worth at least two hundred pistoles. Then,\nhaving set the two decanters again upon the table, filled as before, he\nwithdrew; for I found the fellow understood his business very well, and\nhis lord's business too.\nAbout half-an-hour after, the prince told me that I offered to wait a\nlittle before, that if I would now take the trouble he would give me\nleave to give him some wine; so I went to the table, filled a glass of\nwine, and brought it to him on a fine salver, which the glasses stood\non, and brought the bottle or decanter for water in my other hand, to\nmix as he thought fit.\nHe smiled, and bid me look on that salver, which I did, and admired it\nmuch, for it was a very fine one indeed. \"You may see,\" says he, \"I\nresolve to have more of your company, for my servant shall leave you\nthat plate for my use.\" I told him I believed his Highness would not\ntake it ill that I was not furnished fit to entertain a person of his\nrank, and that I would take great care of it, and value myself\ninfinitely upon the honour of his Highness's visit.\nIt now began to grow late, and he began to take notice of it. \"But,\"\nsays he, \"I cannot leave you; have you not a spare lodging for one\nnight?\" I told him I had but a homely lodging to entertain such a guest.\nHe said something exceeding kind on that head, but not fit to repeat,\nadding that my company would make him amends.\nAbout midnight he sent his gentleman of an errand, after telling him\naloud that he intended to stay here all night. In a little time his\ngentleman brought him a nightgown, slippers, two caps, a neckcloth, and\nshirt, which he gave me to carry into his chamber, and sent his man\nhome; and then, turning to me, said I should do him the honour to be his\nchamberlain of the household, and his dresser also. I smiled, and told\nhim I would do myself the honour to wait on him upon all occasions.\nAbout one in the morning, while his gentleman was yet with him, I begged\nleave to withdraw, supposing he would go to bed; but he took the hint,\nand said, \"I'm not going to bed yet; pray let me see you again.\"\nI took this time to undress me, and to come in a new dress, which was,\nin a manner, _une dishabille_, but so fine, and all about me so clean\nand so agreeable, that he seemed surprised. \"I thought,\" says he, \"you\ncould not have dressed to more advantage than you had done before; but\nnow,\" says he, \"you charm me a thousand times more, if that be\npossible.\"\n\"It is only a loose habit, my lord,\" said I, \"that I may the better wait\non your Highness.\" He pulls me to him. \"You are perfectly obliging,\"\nsays he; and, sitting on the bedside, says he, \"Now you shall be a\nprincess, and know what it is to oblige the gratefullest man alive;\" and\nwith that he took me in his arms.... I can go no farther in the\nparticulars of what passed at that time, but it ended in this, that, in\nshort, I lay with him all night.\nI have given you the whole detail of this story to lay it down as a\nblack scheme of the way how unhappy women are ruined by great men; for,\nthough poverty and want is an irresistible temptation to the poor,\nvanity and great things are as irresistible to others. To be courted by\na prince, and by a prince who was first a benefactor, then an admirer;\nto be called handsome, the finest woman in France, and to be treated as\na woman fit for the bed of a prince--these are things a woman must have\nno vanity in her, nay, no corruption in her, that is not overcome by it;\nand my case was such that, as before, I had enough of both.\nI had now no poverty attending me; on the contrary, I was mistress of\nten thousand pounds before the prince did anything for me. Had I been\nmistress of my resolution, had I been less obliging, and rejected the\nfirst attack, all had been safe; but my virtue was lost before, and the\ndevil, who had found the way to break in upon me by one temptation,\neasily mastered me now by another; and I gave myself up to a person who,\nthough a man of high dignity, was yet the most tempting and obliging\nthat ever I met with in my life.\nI had the same particular to insist upon here with the prince that I had\nwith my gentleman before. I hesitated much at consenting at first\nasking, but the prince told me princes did not court like other men;\nthat they brought more powerful arguments; and he very prettily added\nthat they were sooner repulsed than other men, and ought to be sooner\ncomplied with; intimating, though very genteely, that after a woman had\npositively refused him once, he could not, like other men, wait with\nimportunities and stratagems, and laying long sieges; but as such men as\nhe stormed warmly, so, if repulsed, they made no second attacks; and,\nindeed, it was but reasonable; for as it was below their rank to be long\nbattering a woman's constancy, so they ran greater hazards in being\nexposed in their amours than other men did.\nI took this for a satisfactory answer, and told his Highness that I had\nthe same thoughts in respect to the manner of his attacks; for that his\nperson and his arguments were irresistible; that a person of his rank\nand a munificence so unbounded could not be withstood; that no virtue\nwas proof against him, except such as was able, too, to suffer\nmartyrdom; that I thought it impossible I could be overcome, but that\nnow I found it was impossible I should not be overcome; that so much\ngoodness, joined with so much greatness, would have conquered a saint;\nand that I confessed he had the victory over me, by a merit infinitely\nsuperior to the conquest he had made.\nHe made me a most obliging answer; told me abundance of fine things,\nwhich still flattered my vanity, till at last I began to have pride\nenough to believe him, and fancied myself a fit mistress for a prince.\nAs I had thus given the prince the last favour, and he had all the\nfreedom with me that it was possible for me to grant, so he gave me\nleave to use as much freedom with him another way, and that was to have\neverything of him I thought fit to command; and yet I did not ask of him\nwith an air of avarice, as if I was greedily making a penny of him, but\nI managed him with such art that he generally anticipated my demands. He\nonly requested of me that I would not think of taking another house, as\nI had intimated to his Highness that I intended, not thinking it good\nenough to receive his visits in; but he said my house was the most\nconvenient that could possibly be found in all Paris for an amour,\nespecially for him, having a way out into three streets, and not\noverlooked by any neighbours, so that he could pass and repass without\nobservation; for one of the back-ways opened into a narrow dark alley,\nwhich alley was a thoroughfare or passage out of one street into\nanother; and any person that went in or out by the door had no more to\ndo but to see that there was nobody following him in the alley before he\nwent in at the door. This request, I knew, was reasonable, and therefore\nI assured him I would not change my dwelling, seeing his Highness did\nnot think it too mean for me to receive him in.\nHe also desired me that I would not take any more servants or set up any\nequipage, at least for the present; for that it would then be\nimmediately concluded I had been left very rich, and then I should be\nthronged with the impertinence of admirers, who would be attracted by\nthe money, as well as by the beauty of a young widow, and he should be\nfrequently interrupted in his visits; or that the world would conclude I\nwas maintained by somebody, and would be indefatigable to find out the\nperson; so that he should have spies peeping at him every time he went\nout or in, which it would be impossible to disappoint; and that he\nshould presently have it talked over all the toilets in Paris that the\nPrince de ---- had got the jeweller's widow for a mistress.\nThis was too just to oppose, and I made no scruple to tell his Highness\nthat, since he had stooped so low as to make me his own, he ought to\nhave all the satisfaction in the world that I was all his own; that I\nwould take all the measures he should please to direct me to avoid the\nimpertinent attacks of others; and that, if he thought fit, I would be\nwholly within doors, and have it given out that I was obliged to go to\nEngland to solicit my affairs there, after my husband's misfortune, and\nthat I was not expected there again for at least a year or two. This he\nliked very well; only he said that he would by no means have me\nconfined; that it would injure my health, and that I should then take a\ncountry-house in some village, a good way off of the city, where it\nshould not be known who I was, and that he should be there sometimes to\ndivert me.\nI made no scruple of the confinement, and told his Highness no place\ncould be a confinement where I had such a visitor, and so I put off the\ncountry-house, which would have been to remove myself farther from him\nand have less of his company; so I made the house be, as it were, shut\nup. Amy, indeed, appeared, and when any of the neighbours and servants\ninquired, she answered, in broken French, that I was gone to England to\nlook after my affairs, which presently went current through the streets\nabout us. For you are to note that the people of Paris, especially the\nwomen, are the most busy and impertinent inquirers into the conduct of\ntheir neighbours, especially that of a single woman, that are in the\nworld, though there are no greater intriguers in the universe than\nthemselves; and perhaps that may be the reason of it, for it is an old\nbut a sure rule, that\n    \"When deep intrigues are close and shy,\n    The guilty are the first that spy.\"\nThus his Highness had the most easy, and yet the most undiscoverable,\naccess to me imaginable, and he seldom failed to come two or three\nnights in a week, and sometimes stayed two or three nights together.\nOnce he told me he was resolved I should be weary of his company, and\nthat he would learn to know what it was to be a prisoner; so he gave out\namong his servants that he was gone to ----, where he often went\na-hunting, and that he should not return under a fortnight; and that\nfortnight he stayed wholly with me, and never went out of my doors.\nNever woman in such a station lived a fortnight in so complete a fulness\nof human delight; for to have the entire possession of one of the most\naccomplished princes in the world, and of the politest, best-bred man;\nto converse with him all day, and, as he professed, charm him all night,\nwhat could be more inexpressibly pleasing, and especially to a woman of\na vast deal of pride, as I was?\nTo finish the felicity of this part, I must not forget that the devil\nhad played a new game with me, and prevailed with me to satisfy myself\nwith this amour, as a lawful thing; that a prince of such grandeur and\nmajesty, so infinitely superior to me, and one who had made such an\nintroduction by an unparalleled bounty, I could not resist; and,\ntherefore, that it was very lawful for me to do it, being at that time\nperfectly single, and unengaged to any other man, as I was, most\ncertainly, by the unaccountable absence of my first husband, and the\nmurder of my gentleman who went for my second.\nIt cannot be doubted but that I was the easier to persuade myself of the\ntruth of such a doctrine as this when it was so much for my ease and for\nthe repose of my mind to have it be so:--\n    \"In things we wish, 'tis easy to deceive;\n    What we would have, we willingly believe.\"\nBesides, I had no casuists to resolve this doubt; the same devil that\nput this into my head bade me go to any of the Romish clergy, and, under\nthe pretence of confession, state the case exactly, and I should see\nthey would either resolve it to be no sin at all or absolve me upon the\neasiest penance. This I had a strong inclination to try, but I know not\nwhat scruple put me off of it, for I could never bring myself to like\nhaving to do with those priests. And though it was strange that I, who\nhad thus prostituted my chastity and given up all sense of virtue in two\nsuch particular cases, living a life of open adultery, should scruple\nanything, yet so it was. I argued with myself that I could not be a\ncheat in anything that was esteemed sacred; that I could not be of one\nopinion, and then pretend myself to be of another; nor could I go to\nconfession, who knew nothing of the manner of it, and should betray\nmyself to the priest to be a Huguenot, and then might come into\ntrouble; but, in short, though I was a whore, yet I was a Protestant\nwhore, and could not act as if I was popish, upon any account\nwhatsoever.\nBut, I say, I satisfied myself with the surprising occasion, that as it\nwas all irresistible, so it was all lawful; for that Heaven would not\nsuffer us to be punished for that which it was not possible for us to\navoid; and with these absurdities I kept conscience from giving me any\nconsiderable disturbance in all this matter; and I was as perfectly easy\nas to the lawfulness of it as if I had been married to the prince and\nhad had no other husband; so possible is it for us to roll ourselves up\nin wickedness, till we grow invulnerable by conscience; and that\nsentinel, once dozed, sleeps fast, not to be awakened while the tide of\npleasure continues to flow, or till something dark and dreadful brings\nus to ourselves again.\nI have, I confess, wondered at the stupidity that my intellectual part\nwas under all that while; what lethargic fumes dozed the soul; and how\nwas it possible that I, who in the case before, where the temptation was\nmany ways more forcible and the arguments stronger and more\nirresistible, was yet under a continued inquietude on account of the\nwicked life I led, could now live in the most profound tranquillity and\nwith an uninterrupted peace, nay, even rising up to satisfaction and\njoy, and yet in a more palpable state of adultery than before; for\nbefore, my gentleman, who called me wife, had the pretence of his wife\nbeing parted from him, refusing to do the duty of her office as a wife\nto him. As for me, my circumstances were the same; but as for the\nprince, as he had a fine and extraordinary lady, or princess, of his\nown, so he had had two or three mistresses more besides me, and made no\nscruple of it at all.\nHowever, I say, as to my own part, I enjoyed myself in perfect\ntranquillity; and as the prince was the only deity I worshipped, so I\nwas really his idol; and however it was with his princess, I assure you\nhis other mistresses found a sensible difference, and though they could\nnever find me out, yet I had good intelligence that they guessed very\nwell that their lord had got some new favourite that robbed them of his\ncompany, and, perhaps, of some of his usual bounty too. And now I must\nmention the sacrifices he made to his idol, and they were not a few, I\nassure you.\nAs he loved like a prince, so he rewarded like a prince; for though he\ndeclined my making a figure, as above, he let me see that he was above\ndoing it for the saving the expense of it, and so he told me, and that\nhe would make it up in other things. First of all, he sent me a toilet,\nwith all the appurtenances of silver, even so much as the frame of the\ntable; and then for the house, he gave me the table, or sideboard of\nplate, I mentioned above, with all things belonging to it of massy\nsilver; so that, in short, I could not for my life study to ask him for\nanything of plate which I had not.\nHe could, then, accommodate me in nothing more but jewels and clothes,\nor money for clothes. He sent his gentleman to the mercer's, and bought\nme a suit, or whole piece, of the finest brocaded silk, figured with\ngold, and another with silver, and another of crimson; so that I had\nthree suits of clothes, such as the Queen of France would not have\ndisdained to have worn at that time. Yet I went out nowhere; but as\nthose were for me to put on when I went out of mourning, I dressed\nmyself in them, one after another, always when his Highness came to see\nme.\nI had no less than five several morning dresses besides these, so that I\nneed never be seen twice in the same dress; to these he added several\nparcels of fine linen and of lace, so much that I had no room to ask for\nmore, or, indeed, for so much.\nI took the liberty once, in our freedoms, to tell him he was too\nbountiful, and that I was too chargeable to him for a mistress, and that\nI would be his faithful servant at less expense to him; and that he not\nonly left me no room to ask him for anything, but that he supplied me\nwith such a profusion of good things that I could scarce wear them, or\nuse them, unless I kept a great equipage, which, he knew, was no way\nconvenient for him or for me. He smiled, and took me in his arms, and\ntold me he was resolved, while I was his, I should never be able to ask\nhim for anything, but that he would be daily asking new favours of me.\nAfter we were up (for this conference was in bed), he desired I would\ndress me in the best suit of clothes I had. It was a day or two after\nthe three suits were made and brought home. I told him, if he pleased, I\nwould rather dress me in that suit which I knew he liked best. He asked\nme how I could know which he would like best before he had seen them. I\ntold him I would presume for once to guess at his fancy by my own; so I\nwent away and dressed me in the second suit, brocaded with silver, and\nreturned in full dress, with a suit of lace upon my head, which would\nhave been worth in England two hundred pounds sterling; and I was every\nway set out as well as Amy could dress me, who was a very genteel\ndresser too. In this figure I came to him, out of my dressing-room,\nwhich opened with folding-doors into his bedchamber.\nHe sat as one astonished a good while, looking at me, without speaking a\nword, till I came quite up to him, kneeled on one knee to him, and\nalmost, whether he would or no, kissed his hand. He took me up, and\nstood up himself, but was surprised when, taking me in his arms, he\nperceived tears to run down my cheeks. \"My dear,\" says he aloud, \"what\nmean these tears?\" \"My lord,\" said I, after some little check, for I\ncould not speak presently, \"I beseech you to believe me, they are not\ntears of sorrow, but tears of joy. It is impossible for me to see myself\nsnatched from the misery I was fallen into, and at once to be in the\narms of a prince of such goodness, such immense bounty, and be treated\nin such a manner; it is not possible, my lord,\" said I, \"to contain the\nsatisfaction of it; and it will break out in an excess in some measure\nproportioned to your immense bounty, and to the affection which your\nHighness treats me with, who am so infinitely below you.\"\nIt would look a little too much like a romance here to repeat all the\nkind things he said to me on that occasion, but I can't omit one\npassage. As he saw the tears drop down my cheek, he pulls out a fine\ncambric handkerchief, and was going to wipe the tears off, but checked\nhis hand, as if he was afraid to deface something; I say, he checked his\nhand, and tossed the handkerchief to me to do it myself. I took the hint\nimmediately, and with a kind of pleasant disdain, \"How, my lord,\" said\nI, \"have you kissed me so often, and don't you know whether I am painted\nor not? Pray let your Highness satisfy yourself that you have no cheats\nput upon you; for once let me be vain enough to say I have not deceived\nyou with false colours.\" With this I put a handkerchief into his hand,\nand taking his hand into mine, I made him wipe my face so hard that he\nwas unwilling to do it, for fear of hurting me.\nHe appeared surprised more than ever, and swore, which was the first\ntime that I had heard him swear from my first knowing him, that he could\nnot have believed there was any such skin without paint in the world.\n\"Well, my lord,\" said I, \"your Highness shall have a further\ndemonstration than this, as to that which you are pleased to accept for\nbeauty, that it is the mere work of nature;\" and with that I stepped to\nthe door and rung a little bell for my woman Amy, and bade her bring me\na cup full of hot water, which she did; and when it was come, I desired\nhis Highness to feel if it was warm, which he did, and I immediately\nwashed my face all over with it before him. This was, indeed, more than\nsatisfaction, that is to say, than believing, for it was an undeniable\ndemonstration, and he kissed my cheeks and breasts a thousand times,\nwith expressions of the greatest surprise imaginable.\nNor was I a very indifferent figure as to shape; though I had had two\nchildren by my gentleman, and six by my true husband, I say I was no\ndespisable shape; and my prince (I must be allowed the vanity to call\nhim so) was taking his view of me as I walked from one end of the room\nto the other. At last he leads me to the darkest part of the room, and\nstanding behind me, bade me hold up my head, when, putting both his\nhands round my neck, as if he was spanning my neck to see how small it\nwas, for it was long and small, he held my neck so long and so hard in\nhis hand that I complained he hurt me a little. What he did it for I\nknew not, nor had I the least suspicion but that he was spanning my\nneck; but when I said he hurt me, he seemed to let go, and in half a\nminute more led me to a pier-glass, and behold I saw my neck clasped\nwith a fine necklace of diamonds; whereas I felt no more what he was\ndoing than if he had really done nothing at all, nor did I suspect it in\nthe least. If I had an ounce of blood in me that did not fly up into my\nface, neck, and breasts, it must be from some interruption in the\nvessels. I was all on fire with the sight, and began to wonder what it\nwas that was coming to me.\nHowever, to let him see that I was not unqualified to receive benefits,\nI turned about: \"My lord,\" says I, \"your Highness is resolved to\nconquer, by your bounty, the very gratitude of your servants; you will\nleave no room for anything but thanks, and make those thanks useless\ntoo, by their bearing no proportion to the occasion.\"\n\"I love, child,\" says he, \"to see everything suitable. A fine gown and\npetticoat, a fine laced head, a fine face and neck, and no necklace,\nwould not have made the object perfect. But why that blush, my dear?\"\nsays the prince. \"My lord,\" said I, \"all your gifts call for blushes,\nbut, above all, I blush to receive what I am so ill able to merit, and\nmay become so ill also.\"\nThus far I am a standing mark of the weakness of great men in their\nvice, that value not squandering away immense wealth upon the most\nworthless creatures; or, to sum it up in a word, they raise the value of\nthe object which they pretend to pitch upon by their fancy; I say, raise\nthe value of it at their own expense; give vast presents for a ruinous\nfavour, which is so far from being equal to the price that nothing will\nat last prove more absurd than the cost men are at to purchase their own\ndestruction.\nI could not, in the height of all this fine doings--I say, I could not\nbe without some just reflection, though conscience was, as I said, dumb,\nas to any disturbance it gave me in my wickedness. My vanity was fed up\nto such a height that I had no room to give way to such reflections. But\nI could not but sometimes look back with astonishment at the folly of\nmen of quality, who, immense in their bounty as in their wealth, give to\na profusion and without bounds to the most scandalous of our sex, for\ngranting them the liberty of abusing themselves and ruining both.\nI, that knew what this carcase of mine had been but a few years before;\nhow overwhelmed with grief, drowned in tears, frightened with the\nprospect of beggary, and surrounded with rags and fatherless children;\nthat was pawning and selling the rags that covered me for a dinner, and\nsat on the ground despairing of help and expecting to be starved, till\nmy children were snatched from me to be kept by the parish; I, that was\nafter this a whore for bread, and, abandoning conscience and virtue,\nlived with another woman's husband; I, that was despised by all my\nrelations, and my husband's too; I, that was left so entirely desolate,\nfriendless, and helpless that I knew not how to get the least help to\nkeep me from starving,--that I should be caressed by a prince, for the\nhonour of having the scandalous use of my prostituted body, common\nbefore to his inferiors, and perhaps would not have denied one of his\nfootmen but a little while before, if I could have got my bread by it.\nI say, I could not but reflect upon the brutality and blindness of\nmankind; that because nature had given me a good skin and some agreeable\nfeatures, should suffer that beauty to be such a bait to appetite as to\ndo such sordid, unaccountable things to obtain the possession of it.\nIt is for this reason that I have so largely set down the particulars of\nthe caresses I was treated with by the jeweller, and also by this\nprince; not to make the story an incentive to the vice, which I am now\nsuch a sorrowful penitent for being guilty of (God forbid any should\nmake so vile a use of so good a design), but to draw the just picture of\na man enslaved to the rage of his vicious appetite; how he defaces the\nimage of God in his soul, dethrones his reason, causes conscience to\nabdicate the possession, and exalts sense into the vacant throne; how he\ndeposes the man and exalts the brute.\nOh! could we hear the reproaches this great man afterwards loaded\nhimself with when he grew weary of this admired creature, and became\nsick of his vice, how profitable would the report of them be to the\nreader of this story! But had he himself also known the dirty history of\nmy actings upon the stage of life that little time I had been in the\nworld, how much more severe would those reproaches have been upon\nhimself! But I shall come to this again.\nI lived in this gay sort of retirement almost three years, in which time\nno amour of such a kind, sure, was ever carried up so high. The prince\nknew no bounds to his munificence; he could give me nothing, either for\nmy wearing, or using, or eating, or drinking, more than he had done from\nthe beginning.\nHis presents were after that in gold, and very frequent and large,\noften a hundred pistoles, never less than fifty at a time; and I must do\nmyself the justice that I seemed rather backward to receive than craving\nand encroaching. Not that I had not an avaricious temper, nor was it\nthat I did not foresee that this was my harvest, in which I was to\ngather up, and that it would not last long; but it was that really his\nbounty always anticipated my expectations, and even my wishes; and he\ngave me money so fast that he rather poured it in upon me than left me\nroom to ask it; so that, before I could spend fifty pistoles, I had\nalways a hundred to make it up.\nAfter I had been near a year and a half in his arms as above, or\nthereabouts, I proved with child. I did not take any notice of it to him\ntill I was satisfied that I was not deceived; when one morning early,\nwhen we were in bed together, I said to him, \"My lord, I doubt your\nHighness never gives yourself leave to think what the case should be if\nI should have the honour to be with child by you.\" \"Why, my dear,\" says\nhe, \"we are able to keep it if such a thing should happen; I hope you\nare not concerned about that.\" \"No, my lord,\" said I; \"I should think\nmyself very happy if I could bring your Highness a son; I should hope to\nsee him a lieutenant-general of the king's armies by the interest of his\nfather, and by his own merit.\" \"Assure yourself, child,\" says he, \"if\nit should be so, I will not refuse owning him for my son, though it be,\nas they call it, a natural son; and shall never slight or neglect him,\nfor the sake of his mother.\" Then he began to importune me to know if it\nwas so, but I positively denied it so long, till at last I was able to\ngive him the satisfaction of knowing it himself by the motion of the\nchild within me.\nHe professed himself overjoyed at the discovery, but told me that now it\nwas absolutely necessary for me to quit the confinement which, he said,\nI had suffered for his sake, and to take a house somewhere in the\ncountry, in order for health as well as for privacy, against my\nlying-in. This was quite out of my way; but the prince, who was a man of\npleasure, had, it seems, several retreats of this kind, which he had\nmade use of, I suppose, upon like occasions. And so, leaving it, as it\nwere, to his gentleman, he provided a very convenient house, about four\nmiles south of Paris, at the village of ----, where I had very agreeable\nlodgings, good gardens, and all things very easy to my content. But one\nthing did not please me at all, viz., that an old woman was provided,\nand put into the house to furnish everything necessary to my lying-in,\nand to assist at my travail.\nI did not like this old woman at all; she looked so like a spy upon me,\nor (as sometimes I was frighted to imagine) like one set privately to\ndespatch me out of the world, as might best suit with the circumstance\nof my lying-in. And when his Highness came the next time to see me,\nwhich was not many days, I expostulated a little on the subject of the\nold woman; and by the management of my tongue, as well as by the\nstrength of reasoning, I convinced him that it would not be at all\nconvenient; that it would be the greater risk on his side; and at first\nor last it would certainly expose him and me also. I assured him that my\nservant, being an Englishwoman, never knew to that hour who his Highness\nwas; that I always called him the Count de Clerac, and that she knew\nnothing else of him, nor ever should; that if he would give me leave to\nchoose proper persons for my use, it should be so ordered that not one\nof them should know who he was, or perhaps ever see his face; and that,\nfor the reality of the child that should be born, his Highness, who had\nalone been at the first of it, should, if he pleased, be present in the\nroom all the time, so that he would need no witnesses on that account.\nThis discourse fully satisfied him, so that he ordered his gentleman to\ndismiss the old woman the same day; and without any difficulty I sent my\nmaid Amy to Calais, and thence to Dover, where she got an English\nmidwife and an English nurse to come over on purpose to attend an\nEnglish lady of quality, as they styled me, for four months certain.\nThe midwife, Amy had agreed to pay a hundred guineas to, and bear her\ncharges to Paris, and back again to Dover. The poor woman that was to be\nmy nurse had twenty pounds, and the same terms for charges as the other.\nI was very easy when Amy returned, and the more because she brought with\nthe midwife a good motherly sort of woman, who was to be her assistant,\nand would be very helpful on occasion; and bespoke a man midwife at\nParis too, if there should be any necessity for his help. Having thus\nmade provision for everything, the Count, for so we all called him in\npublic, came as often to see me as I could expect, and continued\nexceeding kind, as he had always been. One day, conversing together upon\nthe subject of my being with child, I told him how all things were in\norder, but that I had a strange apprehension that I should die with that\nchild. He smiled. \"So all the ladies say, my dear,\" says he, \"when they\nare with child.\" \"Well, however, my lord,\" said I, \"it is but just that\ncare should be taken that what you have bestowed in your excess of\nbounty upon me should not be lost;\" and upon this I pulled a paper out\nof my bosom, folded up, but not sealed, and I read it to him, wherein I\nhad left order that all the plate and jewels and fine furniture which\nhis Highness had given me should be restored to him by my women, and the\nkeys be immediately delivered to his gentleman in case of disaster.\nThen I recommended my woman, Amy, to his favour for a hundred pistoles,\non condition she gave the keys up as above to his gentleman, and his\ngentleman's receipt for them. When he saw this, \"My dear child,\" said\nhe, and took me in his arms, \"what! have you been making your will and\ndisposing of your effects? Pray, who do you make your universal heir?\"\n\"So far as to do justice to your Highness, in case of mortality, I have,\nmy lord,\" said I, \"and who should I dispose the valuable things to,\nwhich I have had from your hand as pledges of your favour and\ntestimonies of your bounty, but to the giver of them? If the child\nshould live, your Highness will, I don't question, act like yourself in\nthat part, and I shall have the utmost satisfaction that it will be well\nused by your direction.\"\nI could see he took this very well. \"I have forsaken all the ladies in\nParis,\" says he, \"for you, and I have lived every day since I knew you\nto see that you know how to merit all that a man of honour can do for\nyou. Be easy, child; I hope you shall not die, and all you have is your\nown, to do what with it you please.\"\nI was then within about two months of my time, and that soon wore off.\nWhen I found my time was come, it fell out very happily that he was in\nthe house, and I entreated he would continue a few hours in the house,\nwhich he agreed to. They called his Highness to come into the room, if\nhe pleased, as I had offered and as I desired him; and I sent word I\nwould make as few cries as possible to prevent disturbing him. He came\ninto the room once, and called to me to be of good courage, it would\nsoon be over, and then he withdrew again; and in about half-an-hour more\nAmy carried him the news that I was delivered, and had brought him a\ncharming boy. He gave her ten pistoles for her news, stayed till they\nhad adjusted things about me, and then came into the room again, cheered\nme and spoke kindly to me, and looked on the child, then withdrew, and\ncame again the next day to visit me.\nSince this, and when I have looked back upon these things with eyes\nunpossessed with crime, when the wicked part has appeared in its clearer\nlight and I have seen it in its own natural colours, when no more\nblinded with the glittering appearances which at that time deluded me,\nand as in like cases, if I may guess at others by myself, too much\npossessed the mind; I say, since this I have often wondered with what\npleasure or satisfaction the prince could look upon the poor innocent\ninfant, which, though his own, and that he might that way have some\nattachment in his affections to it, yet must always afterwards be a\nremembrancer to him of his most early crime, and, which was worse, must\nbear upon itself, unmerited, an eternal mark of infamy, which should be\nspoken of, upon all occasions, to its reproach, from the folly of its\nfather and wickedness of its mother.\nGreat men are indeed delivered from the burthen of their natural\nchildren, or bastards, as to their maintenance. This is the main\naffliction in other cases, where there is not substance sufficient\nwithout breaking into the fortunes of the family. In those cases either\na man's legitimate children suffer, which is very unnatural, or the\nunfortunate mother of that illegitimate birth has a dreadful affliction,\neither of being turned off with her child, and be left to starve, &c.,\nor of seeing the poor infant packed off with a piece of money to those\nshe-butchers who take children off their hands, as 'tis called, that is\nto say, starve them, and, in a word, murder them.\nGreat men, I say, are delivered from this burthen, because they are\nalways furnished to supply the expense of their out-of-the-way\noffspring, by making little assignments upon the Bank of Lyons or the\ntownhouse of Paris, and settling those sums, to be received for the\nmaintenance of such expense as they see cause.\nThus, in the case of this child of mine, while he and I conversed, there\nwas no need to make any appointment as an appanage or maintenance for\nthe child or its nurse, for he supplied me more than sufficiently for\nall those things; but afterwards, when time, and a particular\ncircumstance, put an end to our conversing together (as such things\nalways meet with a period, and generally break off abruptly), I say,\nafter that, I found he appointed the children a settled allowance, by an\nassignment of annual rent upon the Bank of Lyons, which was sufficient\nfor bringing them handsomely, though privately, up in the world, and\nthat not in a manner unworthy of their father's blood, though I came to\nbe sunk and forgotten in the case; nor did the children ever know\nanything of their mother to this day, other than as you may have an\naccount hereafter.\nBut to look back to the particular observation I was making, which I\nhope may be of use to those who read my story, I say it was something\nwonderful to me to see this person so exceedingly delighted at the birth\nof this child, and so pleased with it; for he would sit and look at it,\nand with an air of seriousness sometimes a great while together, and\nparticularly, I observed, he loved to look at it when it was asleep.\nIt was indeed a lovely, charming child, and had a certain vivacity in\nits countenance that is far from being common to all children so young;\nand he would often say to me that he believed there was something\nextraordinary in the child, and he did not doubt but he would come to be\na great man.\nI could never hear him say so, but though secretly it pleased me, yet it\nso closely touched me another way that I could not refrain sighing, and\nsometimes tears; and one time in particular it so affected me that I\ncould not conceal it from him; but when he saw tears run down my face,\nthere was no concealing the occasion from him; he was too importunate to\nbe denied in a thing of that moment; so I frankly answered, \"It sensibly\naffects me, my lord,\" said I, \"that, whatever the merit of this little\ncreature may be, he must always have a bend on his arms. The disaster of\nhis birth will be always, not a blot only to his honour, but a bar to\nhis fortunes in the world. Our affection will be ever his affliction,\nand his mother's crime be the son's reproach. The blot can never be\nwiped out by the most glorious action; nay, if it lives to raise a\nfamily,\" said I, \"the infamy must descend even to its innocent\nposterity.\"\nHe took the thought, and sometimes told me afterwards that it made a\ndeeper impression on him than he discovered to me at that time; but for\nthe present he put it off with telling me these things could not be\nhelped; that they served for a spur to the spirits of brave men,\ninspired them with the principles of gallantry, and prompted them to\nbrave actions; that though it might be true that the mention of\nillegitimacy might attend the name, yet that personal virtue placed a\nman of honour above the reproach of his birth; that, as he had no share\nin the offence, he would have no concern at the blot; when, having by\nhis own merit placed himself out of the reach of scandal, his fame\nshould drown the memory of his beginning; that as it was usual for men\nof quality to make such little escapes, so the number of their natural\nchildren were so great, and they generally took such good care of their\neducation, that some of the greatest men in the world had a bend in\ntheir coats-of-arms, and that it was of no consequence to them,\nespecially when their fame began to rise upon the basis of their\nacquired merit; and upon this he began to reckon up to me some of the\ngreatest families in France and in England also.\nThis carried off our discourse for a time; but I went farther with him\nonce, removing the discourse from the part attending our children to the\nreproach which those children would be apt to throw upon us, their\noriginals; and when speaking a little too feelingly on the subject, he\nbegan to receive the impression a little deeper than I wished he had\ndone. At last he told me I had almost acted the confessor to him; that I\nmight, perhaps, preach a more dangerous doctrine to him than we should\neither of us like, or than I was aware of. \"For, my dear,\" says he, \"if\nonce we come to talk of repentance we must talk of parting.\"\nIf tears were in my eyes before, they flowed too fast now to be\nrestrained, and I gave him but too much satisfaction by my looks that I\nhad yet no reflections upon my mind strong enough to go that length, and\nthat I could no more think of parting than he could.\nHe said a great many kind things, which were great, like himself, and,\nextenuating our crime, intimated to me that he could no more part with\nme than I could with him; so we both, as I may say, even against our\nlight and against our conviction, concluded to sin on; indeed, his\naffection to the child was one great tie to him, for he was extremely\nfond of it.\nThe child lived to be a considerable man. He was first an officer of the\n_Garde du Corps_ of France, and afterwards colonel of a regiment of\ndragoons in Italy, and on many extraordinary occasions showed that he\nwas not unworthy such a father, but many ways deserving a legitimate\nbirth and a better mother; of which hereafter.\nI think I may say now that I lived indeed like a queen; or, if you will\nhave me confess that my condition had still the reproach of a whore, I\nmay say I was, sure, the queen of whores; for no woman was ever more\nvalued or more caressed by a person of such quality only in the station\nof a mistress. I had, indeed, one deficiency which women in such\ncircumstances seldom are chargeable with, namely, I craved nothing of\nhim, I never asked him for anything in my life, nor suffered myself to\nbe made use of, as is too much the custom of mistresses, to ask favours\nfor others. His bounty always prevented me in the first, and my strict\nconcealing myself in the last, which was no less to my convenience than\nhis.\nThe only favour I ever asked of him was for his gentleman, who he had\nall along entrusted with the secret of our affair, and who had once so\nmuch offended him by some omissions in his duty that he found it very\nhard to make his peace. He came and laid his case before my woman Amy,\nand begged her to speak to me to intercede for him, which I did, and on\nmy account he was received again and pardoned, for which the grateful\ndog requited me by getting to bed to his benefactress, Amy, at which I\nwas very angry. But Amy generously acknowledged that it was her fault as\nmuch as his; that she loved the fellow so much that she believed if he\nhad not asked her she should have asked him. I say, this pacified me,\nand I only obtained of her that she should not let him know that I knew\nit.\nI might have interspersed this part of my story with a great many\npleasant parts and discourses which happened between my maid Amy and I,\nbut I omit them on account of my own story, which has been so\nextraordinary. However, I must mention something as to Amy and her\ngentleman.\nI inquired of Amy upon what terms they came to be so intimate, but Amy\nseemed backward to explain herself. I did not care to press her upon a\nquestion of that nature, knowing that she might have answered my\nquestion with a question, and have said, \"Why, how did I and the prince\ncome to be so intimate?\" So I left off farther inquiring into it, till,\nafter some time, she told it me all freely of her own accord, which, to\ncut it short, amounted to no more than this, that, like mistress like\nmaid, as they had many leisure hours together below, while they waited\nrespectively when his lord and I were together above; I say, they could\nhardly avoid the usual question one to another, namely, why might not\nthey do the same thing below that we did above?\nOn that account, indeed, as I said above, I could not find in my heart\nto be angry with Amy. I was, indeed, afraid the girl would have been\nwith child too, but that did not happen, and so there was no hurt done;\nfor Amy had been hanselled before, as well as her mistress, and by the\nsame party too, as you have heard.\nAfter I was up again, and my child provided with a good nurse, and,\nwithal, winter coming on, it was proper to think of coming to Paris\nagain, which I did; but as I had now a coach and horses, and some\nservants to attend me, by my lord's allowance, I took the liberty to\nhave them come to Paris sometimes, and so to take a tour into the garden\nof the Tuileries and the other pleasant places of the city. It happened\none day that my prince (if I may call him so) had a mind to give me some\ndiversion, and to take the air with me; but, that he might do it and not\nbe publicly known, he comes to me in a coach of the Count de ----, a\ngreat officer of the court, attended by his liveries also; so that, in a\nword, it was impossible to guess by the equipage who I was or who I\nbelonged to; also, that I might be the more effectually concealed, he\nordered me to be taken up at a mantua-maker's house, where he sometimes\ncame, whether upon other amours or not was no business of mine to\ninquire. I knew nothing whither he intended to carry me; but when he was\nin the coach with me, he told me he had ordered his servants to go to\ncourt with me, and he would show me some of the _beau monde_. I told him\nI cared not where I went while I had the honour to have him with me. So\nhe carried me to the fine palace of Meudon, where the Dauphin then was,\nand where he had some particular intimacy with one of the Dauphin's\ndomestics, who procured a retreat for me in his lodgings while we\nstayed there, which was three or four days.\nWhile I was there the king happened to come thither from Versailles, and\nmaking but a short stay, visited Madame the Dauphiness, who was then\nliving. The prince was here incognito, only because of his being with\nme, and therefore, when he heard that the king was in the gardens, he\nkept close within the lodgings; but the gentleman in whose lodgings we\nwere, with his lady and several others, went out to see the king, and I\nhad the honour to be asked to go with them.\nAfter we had seen the king, who did not stay long in the gardens, we\nwalked up the broad terrace, and crossing the hall towards the great\nstaircase, I had a sight which confounded me at once, as I doubt not it\nwould have done to any woman in the world. The horse guards, or what\nthey call there the _gens d'armes_, had, upon some occasion, been either\nupon duty or been reviewed, or something (I did not understand that\npart) was the matter that occasioned their being there, I know not what;\nbut, walking in the guard-chamber, and with his jack-boots on, and the\nwhole habit of the troop, as it is worn when our horse guards are upon\nduty, as they call it, at St. James's Park; I say, there, to my\ninexpressible confusion, I saw Mr. ----, my first husband, the brewer.\nI could not be deceived; I passed so near him that I almost brushed him\nwith my clothes, and looked him full in the face, but having my fan\nbefore my face, so that he could not know me. However, I knew him\nperfectly well, and I heard him speak, which was a second way of knowing\nhim. Besides being, you may be sure, astonished and surprised at such a\nsight, I turned about after I had passed him some steps, and pretending\nto ask the lady that was with me some questions, I stood as if I had\nviewed the great hall, the outer guard-chamber, and some things; but I\ndid it to take a full view of his dress, that I might farther inform\nmyself.\nWhile I stood thus amusing the lady that was with me with questions, he\nwalked, talking with another man of the same cloth, back again, just by\nme; and to my particular satisfaction, or dissatisfaction--take it which\nway you will--I heard him speak English, the other being, it seems, an\nEnglishman.\nI then asked the lady some other questions. \"Pray, madam,\" says I, \"what\nare these troopers here? Are they the king's guards?\" \"No,\" says she;\n\"they are the _gens d'armes_; a small detachment of them, I suppose,\nattended the king to-day, but they are not his Majesty's ordinary\nguard.\" Another lady that was with her said, \"No, madam, it seems that\nis not the case, for I heard them saying the _gens d'armes_ were here\nto-day by special order, some of them being to march towards the Rhine,\nand these attend for orders; but they go back to-morrow to Orleans,\nwhere they are expected.\"\nThis satisfied me in part, but I found means after this to inquire whose\nparticular troop it was that the gentlemen that were here belonged to;\nand with that I heard they would all be at Paris the week after.\nTwo days after this we returned for Paris, when I took occasion to speak\nto my lord, that I heard the _gens d'armes_ were to be in the city the\nnext week, and that I should be charmed with seeing them march if they\ncame in a body. He was so obliging in such things that I need but just\nname a thing of that kind and it was done; so he ordered his gentleman\n(I should now call him Amy's gentleman) to get me a place in a certain\nhouse, where I might see them march.\nAs he did not appear with me on this occasion, so I had the liberty of\ntaking my woman Amy with me, and stood where we were very well\naccommodated for the observation which I was to make. I told Amy what I\nhad seen, and she was as forward to make the discovery as I was to have\nher, and almost as much surprised at the thing itself. In a word, the\n_gens d'armes_ entered the city, as was expected, and made a most\nglorious show indeed, being new clothed and armed, and being to have\ntheir standards blessed by the Archbishop of Paris. On this occasion\nthey indeed looked very gay; and as they marched very leisurely, I had\ntime to take as critical a view and make as nice a search among them as\nI pleased. Here, in a particular rank, eminent for one monstrous-sized\nman on the right; here, I say, I saw my gentleman again, and a very\nhandsome, jolly fellow he was, as any in the troop, though not so\nmonstrous large as that great one I speak of, who, it seems, was,\nhowever, a gentleman of a good family in Gascony, and was called the\ngiant of Gascony.\nIt was a kind of a good fortune to us, among the other circumstances of\nit, that something caused the troops to halt in their march a little\nbefore that particular rank came right against that window which I stood\nin, so that then we had occasion to take our full view of him at a small\ndistance, and so as not to doubt of his being the same person.\nAmy, who thought she might, on many accounts, venture with more safety\nto be particular than I could, asked her gentleman how a particular man,\nwho she saw there among the _gens d'armes_, might be inquired after and\nfound out; she having seen an Englishman riding there which was supposed\nto be dead in England for several years before she came out of London\nand that his wife had married again. It was a question the gentleman\ndid not well understand how to answer; but another person that stood by\ntold her, if she would tell him the gentleman's name, he would endeavour\nto find him out for her, and asked jestingly if he was her lover. Amy\nput that off with a laugh, but still continued her inquiry, and in such\na manner as the gentleman easily perceived she was in earnest; so he\nleft bantering, and asked her in what part of the troop he rode. She\nfoolishly told him his name, which she should not have done; and\npointing to the cornet that troop carried, which was not then quite out\nof sight, she let him easily know whereabouts he rode, only she could\nnot name the captain. However, he gave her such directions afterwards\nthat, in short, Amy, who was an indefatigable girl, found him out. It\nseems he had not changed his name, not supposing any inquiry would be\nmade after him here; but, I say, Amy found him out, and went boldly to\nhis quarters, asked for him, and he came out to her immediately.\nI believe I was not more confounded at my first seeing him at Meudon\nthan he was at seeing Amy. He started and turned pale as death. Amy\nbelieved if he had seen her at first, in any convenient place for so\nvillainous a purpose, he would have murdered her.\nBut he started, as I say above, and asked in English, with an\nadmiration, \"What are you?\" \"Sir,\" says she, \"don't you know me?\"\n\"Yes,\" says he, \"I knew you when you were alive; but what are you\nnow?--whether ghost or substance I know not.\" \"Be not afraid, sir, of\nthat,\" says Amy; \"I am the same Amy that I was in your service, and do\nnot speak to you now for any hurt, but that I saw you accidentally\nyesterday ride among the soldiers; I thought you might be glad to hear\nfrom your friends at London.\" \"Well, Amy,\" says he then (having a little\nrecovered himself), \"how does everybody do? What! is your mistress\nhere?\" Thus they begun:--\n_Amy._ My mistress, sir, alas! not the mistress you mean; poor\ngentlewoman, you left her in a sad condition.\n_Gent._ Why, that's true, Amy; but it could not be helped; I was in a\nsad condition myself.\n_Amy._ I believe so, indeed, sir, or else you had not gone away as you\ndid; for it was a very terrible condition you left them all in, that I\nmust say.\n_Gent._ What did they do after I was gone?\n_Amy._ Do, sir! Very miserably, you may be sure. How could it be\notherwise?\n_Gent._ Well, that's true indeed; but you may tell me, Amy, what became\nof them, if you please; for though I went so away, it was not because I\ndid not love them all very well, but because I could not bear to see the\npoverty that was coming upon them, and which it was not in my power to\nhelp. What could I do?\n_Amy._ Nay, I believe so indeed; and I have heard my mistress say many\ntimes she did not doubt but your affliction was as great as hers,\nalmost, wherever you were.\n_Gent._ Why, did she believe I was alive, then?\n_Amy._ Yes, sir; she always said she believed you were alive, because\nshe thought she should have heard something of you if you had been dead.\n_Gent._ Ay, ay; my perplexity was very great indeed, or else I had never\ngone away.\n_Amy._ It was very cruel, though, to the poor lady, sir, my mistress;\nshe almost broke her heart for you at first, for fear of what might\nbefall you, and at last because she could not hear from you.\n_Gent._ Alas, Amy! what could I do? Things were driven to the last\nextremity before I went. I could have done nothing but help starve them\nall if I had stayed; and, besides, I could not bear to see it.\n_Amy._ You know, sir, I can say little to what passed before, but I am a\nmelancholy witness to the sad distresses of my poor mistress as long as\nI stayed with her, and which would grieve your heart to hear them.\n[Here she tells my whole story to the time that the parish took off one\nof my children, and which she perceived very much affected him; and he\nshook his head, and said some things very bitter when he heard of the\ncruelty of his own relations to me.]\n_Gent._ Well, Amy, I have heard enough so far. What did she do\nafterwards?\n_Amy._ I can't give you any farther account, sir; my mistress would not\nlet me stay with her any longer. She said she could neither pay me or\nsubsist me. I told her I would serve her without any wages, but I could\nnot live without victuals, you know; so I was forced to leave her, poor\nlady, sore against my will; and I heard afterwards that the landlord\nseized her goods, so she was, I suppose, turned out of doors; for as I\nwent by the door, about a month after, I saw the house shut up; and,\nabout a fortnight after that, I found there were workmen at work,\nfitting it up, as I suppose, for a new tenant. But none of the\nneighbours could tell me what was become of my poor mistress, only that\nthey said she was so poor that it was next to begging; that some of the\nneighbouring gentlefolks had relieved her, or that else she must have\nstarved.\nThen she went on, and told him that after that they never heard any more\nof (me) her mistress, but that she had been seen once or twice in the\ncity very shabby and poor in clothes, and it was thought she worked with\nher needle for her bread.\nAll this the jade said with so much cunning, and managed and humoured it\nso well, and wiped her eyes and cried so artificially, that he took it\nall as it was intended he should, and once or twice she saw tears in his\neyes too. He told her it was a moving, melancholy story, and it had\nalmost broke his heart at first, but that he was driven to the last\nextremity, and could do nothing but stay and see them all starve, which\nhe could not bear the thoughts of, but should have pistolled himself if\nany such thing had happened while he was there; that he left (me) his\nwife all the money he had in the world but \u00a325, which was as little as\nhe could take with him to seek his fortune in the world. He could not\ndoubt but that his relations, seeing they were all rich, would have\ntaken the poor children off, and not let them come to the parish; and\nthat his wife was young and handsome, and, he thought, might marry\nagain, perhaps, to her advantage, and for that very reason he never\nwrote to her or let her know he was alive, that she might in a\nreasonable term of years marry, and perhaps mend her fortunes; that he\nresolved never to claim her, because he should rejoice to hear that she\nhad settled to her mind; and that he wished there had been a law made to\nempower a woman to marry if her husband was not heard of in so long a\ntime, which time, he thought, should not be above four years, which was\nlong enough to send word in to a wife or family from any part of the\nworld.\nAmy said she could say nothing to that but this, that she was satisfied\nher mistress would marry nobody unless she had certain intelligence that\nhe had been dead from somebody that saw him buried. \"But, alas!\" says\nAmy, \"my mistress was reduced to such dismal circumstances that nobody\nwould be so foolish to think of her, unless it had been somebody to go\na-begging with her.\"\nAmy then, seeing him so perfectly deluded, made a long and lamentable\noutcry how she had been deluded away to marry a poor footman. \"For he is\nno worse or better,\" says she, \"though he calls himself a lord's\ngentleman. And here,\" says Amy, \"he has dragged me over into a strange\ncountry to make a beggar of me;\" and then she falls a-howling again, and\nsnivelling, which, by the way, was all hypocrisy, but acted so to the\nlife as perfectly deceived him, and he gave entire credit to every word\nof it.\n\"Why, Amy,\" says he, \"you are very well dressed; you don't look as if\nyou were in danger of being a beggar.\" \"Ay, hang 'em!\" says Amy, \"they\nlove to have fine clothes here, if they have never a smock under them.\nBut I love to have money in cash, rather than a chestful of fine\nclothes. Besides, sir,\" says she, \"most of the clothes I have were given\nme in the last place I had, when I went away from my mistress.\"\nUpon the whole of the discourse, Amy got out of him what condition he\nwas in and how he lived, upon her promise to him that if ever she came\nto England, and should see her old mistress, she should not let her know\nthat he was alive. \"Alas, sir!\" says Amy, \"I may never come to see\nEngland again as long as I live; and if I should, it would be ten\nthousand to one whether I shall see my old mistress, for how should I\nknow which way to look for her, or what part of England she may be\nin?--not I,\" says she. \"I don't so much as know how to inquire for her;\nand if I should,\" says Amy, \"ever be so happy as to see her, I would not\ndo her so much mischief as to tell her where you were, sir, unless she\nwas in a condition to help herself and you too.\" This farther deluded\nhim, and made him entirely open in his conversing with her. As to his\nown circumstances, he told her she saw him in the highest preferment he\nhad arrived to, or was ever like to arrive to; for, having no friends or\nacquaintance in France, and, which was worse, no money, he never\nexpected to rise; that he could have been made a lieutenant to a troop\nof light horse but the week before, by the favour of an officer in the\n_gens d'armes_ who was his friend, but that he must have found eight\nthousand livres to have paid for it to the gentleman who possessed it,\nand had leave given him to sell. \"But where could I get eight thousand\nlivres,\" says he, \"that have never been master of five hundred livres\nready money at a time since I came into France?\"\n\"Oh dear, sir!\" says Amy, \"I am very sorry to hear you say so. I fancy\nif you once got up to some preferment, you would think of my old\nmistress again, and do something for her. Poor lady,\" says Amy, \"she\nwants it, to be sure;\" and then she falls a-crying again. \"It is a sad\nthing indeed,\" says she, \"that you should be so hard put to it for\nmoney, when you had got a friend to recommend you, and should lose it\nfor want of money.\" \"Ay, so it was, Amy, indeed,\" says he; \"but what can\na stranger do that has neither money or friends?\" Here Amy puts in again\non my account. \"Well,\" says she, \"my poor mistress has had the loss,\nthough she knows nothing of it. Oh dear! how happy it would have been!\nTo be sure, sir, you would have helped her all you could.\" \"Ay,\" says\nhe, \"Amy, so I would with all my heart; and even as I am, I would send\nher some relief, if I thought she wanted it, only that then letting her\nknow I was alive might do her some prejudice, in case of her settling,\nor marrying anybody.\"\n\"Alas,\" says Amy, \"marry! Who will marry her in the poor condition she\nis in?\" And so their discourse ended for that time.\nAll this was mere talk on both sides, and words of course; for on\nfarther inquiry, Amy found that he had no such offer of a lieutenant's\ncommission, or anything like it; and that he rambled in his discourse\nfrom one thing to another; but of that in its place.\nYou may be sure that this discourse, as Amy at first related it, was\nmoving to the last degree upon me, and I was once going to have sent him\nthe eight thousand livres to purchase the commission he had spoken of;\nbut as I knew his character better than anybody, I was willing to search\na little farther into it, and so I set Amy to inquire of some other of\nthe troop, to see what character he had, and whether there was anything\nin the story of a lieutenant's commission or no.\nBut Amy soon came to a better understanding of him, for she presently\nlearnt that he had a most scoundrel character; that there was nothing of\nweight in anything he said; but that he was, in short, a mere sharper,\none that would stick at nothing to get money, and that there was no\ndepending on anything he said; and that more especially about the\nlieutenant's commission, she understood that there was nothing at all in\nit, but they told her how he had often made use of that sham to borrow\nmoney, and move gentlemen to pity him and lend him money, in hopes to\nget him preferment; that he had reported that he had a wife and five\nchildren in England, who he maintained out of his pay, and by these\nshifts had run into debt in several places; and upon several complaints\nfor such things, he had been threatened to be turned out of the _gens\nd'armes_; and that, in short, he was not to be believed in anything he\nsaid, or trusted on any account.\nUpon this information, Amy began to cool in her farther meddling with\nhim, and told me it was not safe for me to attempt doing him any good,\nunless I resolved to put him upon suspicions and inquiries which might\nbe to my ruin, in the condition I was now in.\nI was soon confirmed in this part of his character, for the next time\nthat Amy came to talk with him, he discovered himself more effectually;\nfor, while she had put him in hopes of procuring one to advance the\nmoney for the lieutenant's commission for him upon easy conditions, he\nby degrees dropped the discourse, then pretended it was too late, and\nthat he could not get it, and then descended to ask poor Amy to lend him\nfive hundred pistoles.\nAmy pretended poverty, that her circumstances were but mean, and that\nshe could not raise such a sum; and this she did to try him to the\nutmost. He descended to three hundred, then to one hundred, then to\nfifty, and then to a pistole, which she lent him, and he, never\nintending to pay it, played out of her sight as much as he could. And\nthus being satisfied that he was the same worthless thing he had ever\nbeen, I threw off all thoughts of him; whereas, had he been a man of any\nsense and of any principle of honour, I had it in my thoughts to retire\nto England again, send for him over, and have lived honestly with him.\nBut as a fool is the worst of husbands to do a woman good, so a fool is\nthe worst husband a woman can do good to. I would willingly have done\nhim good, but he was not qualified to receive it or make the best use of\nit. Had I sent him ten thousand crowns instead of eight thousand livres,\nand sent it with express condition that he should immediately have\nbought himself the commission he talked of with part of the money, and\nhave sent some of it to relieve the necessities of his poor miserable\nwife at London, and to prevent his children to be kept by the parish, it\nwas evident he would have been still but a private trooper, and his wife\nand children should still have starved at London, or been kept of mere\ncharity, as, for aught he knew, they then were.\nSeeing, therefore, no remedy, I was obliged to withdraw my hand from\nhim, that had been my first destroyer, and reserve the assistance that I\nintended to have given him for another more desirable opportunity. All\nthat I had now to do was to keep myself out of his sight, which was not\nvery difficult for me to do, considering in what station he lived.\nAmy and I had several consultations then upon the main question,\nnamely, how to be sure never to chop upon him again by chance, and to be\nsurprised into a discovery, which would have been a fatal discovery\nindeed. Amy proposed that we should always take care to know where the\n_gens d'armes_ were quartered, and thereby effectually avoid them; and\nthis was one way.\nBut this was not so as to be fully to my satisfaction; no ordinary way\nof inquiring where the _gens d'armes_ were quartered was sufficient to\nme; but I found out a fellow who was completely qualified for the work\nof a spy (for France has plenty of such people). This man I employed to\nbe a constant and particular attendant upon his person and motions; and\nhe was especially employed and ordered to haunt him as a ghost, that he\nshould scarce let him be ever out of his sight. He performed this to a\nnicety, and failed not to give me a perfect journal of all his motions\nfrom day to day, and, whether for his pleasure or his business, was\nalways at his heels.\nThis was somewhat expensive, and such a fellow merited to be well paid,\nbut he did his business so exquisitely punctual that this poor man\nscarce went out of the house without my knowing the way he went, the\ncompany he kept, when he went abroad, and when he stayed at home.\nBy this extraordinary conduct I made myself safe, and so went out in\npublic or stayed at home as I found he was or was not in a possibility\nof being at Paris, at Versailles, or any place I had occasion to be at.\nThis, though it was very chargeable, yet as I found it absolutely\nnecessary, so I took no thought about the expense of it, for I knew I\ncould not purchase my safety too dear.\nBy this management I found an opportunity to see what a most\ninsignificant, unthinking life the poor, indolent wretch, who, by his\nunactive temper, had at first been my ruin, now lived; how he only rose\nin the morning to go to bed at night; that, saving the necessary motion\nof the troops, which he was obliged to attend, he was a mere motionless\nanimal, of no consequence in the world; that he seemed to be one who,\nthough he was indeed alive, had no manner of business in life but to\nstay to be called out of it. He neither kept any company, minded any\nsport, played at any game, or indeed did anything of moment; but, in\nshort, sauntered about like one that it was not two livres value whether\nhe was dead or alive; that when he was gone, would leave no remembrance\nbehind him that ever he was here; that if ever he did anything in the\nworld to be talked of, it was only to get five beggars and starve his\nwife. The journal of his life, which I had constantly sent me every\nweek, was the least significant of anything of its kind that was ever\nseen, as it had really nothing of earnest in it, so it would make no\njest to relate it. It was not important enough so much as to make the\nreader merry withal, and for that reason I omit it.\nYet this nothing-doing wretch was I obliged to watch and guard against,\nas against the only thing that was capable of doing me hurt in the\nworld. I was to shun him as we would shun a spectre, or even the devil,\nif he was actually in our way; and it cost me after the rate of a\nhundred and fifty livres a month, and very cheap too, to have this\ncreature constantly kept in view. That is to say, my spy undertook never\nto let him be out of his sight an hour, but so as that he could give an\naccount of him, which was much the easier for to be done considering his\nway of living; for he was sure that, for whole weeks together, he would\nbe ten hours of the day half asleep on a bench at the tavern-door where\nhe quartered, or drunk within the house. Though this wicked life he led\nsometimes moved me to pity him, and to wonder how so well-bred,\ngentlemanly a man as he once was could degenerate into such a useless\nthing as he now appeared, yet at the same time it gave me most\ncontemptible thoughts of him, and made me often say I was a warning for\nall the ladies of Europe against marrying of fools. A man of sense falls\nin the world and gets up again, and a woman has some chance for herself;\nbut with a fool, once fall, and ever undone; once in the ditch, and die\nin the ditch; once poor, and sure to starve.\nBut it is time to have done with him. Once I had nothing to hope for but\nto see him again; now my only felicity was, if possible, never to see\nhim, and, above all, to keep him from seeing me, which, as above, I took\neffectual care of.\nI was now returned to Paris. My little son of honour, as I called him,\nwas left at ----, where my last country-seat then was, and I came to\nParis at the prince's request. Thither he came to me as soon as I\narrived, and told me he came to give me joy of my return, and to make\nhis acknowledgments for that I had given him a son. I thought, indeed,\nhe had been going to give me a present, and so he did the next day, but\nin what he said then he only jested with me. He gave me his company all\nthe evening, supped with me about midnight, and did me the honour, as I\nthen called it, to lodge me in his arms all the night, telling me, in\njest, that the best thanks for a son born was giving the pledge for\nanother.\nBut as I hinted, so it was; the next morning he laid me down on my\ntoilet a purse with three hundred pistoles. I saw him lay it down, and\nunderstood what he meant, but I took no notice of it till I came to it,\nas it were, casually; then I gave a great cry out, and fell a-scolding\nin my way, for he gave me all possible freedom of speech on such\noccasions. I told him he was unkind, that he would never give me an\nopportunity to ask for anything, and that he forced me to blush by being\ntoo much obliged, and the like; all which I knew was very agreeable to\nhim, for as he was bountiful beyond measure, so he was infinitely\nobliged by my being so backward to ask any favours; and I was even with\nhim, for I never asked him for a farthing in my life.\nUpon this rallying him, he told me I had either perfectly studied the\nart of humour, or else what was the greatest difficulty to others was\nnatural to me, adding that nothing could be more obliging to a man of\nhonour than not to be soliciting and craving.\nI told him nothing could be craving upon him, that he left no room for\nit; that I hoped he did not give merely to avoid the trouble of being\nimportuned. I told him he might depend upon it that I should be reduced\nvery low indeed before I offered to disturb him that way.\nHe said a man of honour ought always to know what he ought to do; and as\nhe did nothing but what he knew was reasonable, he gave me leave to be\nfree with him if I wanted anything; that he had too much value for me to\ndeny me anything if I asked, but that it was infinitely agreeable to\nhim to hear me say that what he did was to my satisfaction.\nWe strained compliments thus a great while, and as he had me in his arms\nmost part of the time, so upon all my expressions of his bounty to me he\nput a stop to me with his kisses, and would admit me to go on no\nfarther.\nI should in this place mention that this prince was not a subject of\nFrance, though at that time he resided at Paris and was much at court,\nwhere, I suppose, he had or expected some considerable employment. But I\nmention it on this account, that a few days after this he came to me and\ntold me he was come to bring me not the most welcome news that ever I\nheard from him in his life. I looked at him a little surprised; but he\nreturned, \"Do not be uneasy; it is as unpleasant to me as to you, but I\ncome to consult with you about it and see if it cannot be made a little\neasy to us both.\"\nI seemed still more concerned and surprised. At last he said it was that\nhe believed he should be obliged to go into Italy, which, though\notherwise it was very agreeable to him, yet his parting with me made it\na very dull thing but to think of.\nI sat mute, as one thunderstruck, for a good while; and it presently\noccurred to me that I was going to lose him, which, indeed, I could but\nill bear the thoughts of; and as he told me I turned pale. \"What's the\nmatter?\" said he hastily. \"I have surprised you indeed,\" and stepping to\nthe sideboard fills a dram of cordial water, which was of his own\nbringing, and comes to me. \"Be not surprised,\" said he; \"I'll go nowhere\nwithout you;\" adding several other things so kind as nothing could\nexceed it.\nI might indeed turn pale, for I was very much surprised at first,\nbelieving that this was, as it often happens in such cases, only a\nproject to drop me, and break off an amour which he had now carried on\nso long; and a thousand thoughts whirled about my head in the few\nmoments while I was kept in suspense, for they were but a few. I say, I\nwas indeed surprised, and might, perhaps, look pale, but I was not in\nany danger of fainting that I knew of.\nHowever, it not a little pleased me to see him so concerned and anxious\nabout me, but I stopped a little when he put the cordial to my mouth,\nand taking the glass in my hand, I said, \"My lord, your words are\ninfinitely more of a cordial to me than this citron; for as nothing can\nbe a greater affliction than to lose you, so nothing can be a greater\nsatisfaction than the assurance that I shall not have that misfortune.\"\nHe made me sit down, and sat down by me, and after saying a thousand\nkind things to me, he turns upon me with a smile: \"Why, will you\nventure yourself to Italy with me?\" says he. I stopped a while, and then\nanswered that I wondered he would ask me that question, for I would go\nanywhere in the world, or all over the world, wherever he should desire\nme, and give me the felicity of his company.\nThen he entered into a long account of the occasion of his journey, and\nhow the king had engaged him to go, and some other circumstances which\nare not proper to enter into here; it being by no means proper to say\nanything that might lead the reader into the least guess at the person.\nBut to cut short this part of the story, and the history of our journey\nand stay abroad, which would almost fill up a volume of itself, I say we\nspent all that evening in cheerful consultations about the manner of our\ntravelling, the equipage and figure he should go in, and in what manner\nI should go. Several ways were proposed, but none seemed feasible, till\nat last I told him I thought it would be so troublesome, so expensive,\nand so public that it would be many ways inconvenient to him; and though\nit was a kind of death to me to lose him, yet that, rather than so very\nmuch perplex his affairs, I would submit to anything.\nAt the next visit I filled his head with the same difficulties, and then\nat last came over him with a proposal that I would stay in Paris, or\nwhere else he should direct; and when I heard of his safe arrival, would\ncome away by myself, and place myself as near him as I could.\nThis gave him no satisfaction at all, nor would he hear any more of it;\nbut if I durst venture myself, as he called it, such a journey, he would\nnot lose the satisfaction of my company; and as for the expense, that\nwas not to be named; neither, indeed, was there room to name it, for I\nfound that he travelled at the king's expense, as well for himself as\nfor all his equipage, being upon a piece of secret service of the last\nimportance.\nBut after several debates between ourselves, he came to this resolution,\nviz., that he would travel incognito, and so he should avoid all public\nnotice either of himself or of who went with him; and that then he\nshould not only carry me with him, but have a perfect leisure of\nenjoying my agreeable company (as he was pleased to call it) all the\nway.\nThis was so obliging that nothing could be more so. Upon this foot he\nimmediately set to work to prepare things for his journey, and, by his\ndirections, so did I too. But now I had a terrible difficulty upon me,\nand which way to get over it I knew not; and that was, in what manner to\ntake care of what I had to leave behind me. I was rich, as I have said,\nvery rich, and what to do with it I knew not; nor who to leave in trust\nI knew not. I had nobody but Amy in the world, and to travel without Amy\nwas very uncomfortable, or to leave all I had in the world with her,\nand, if she miscarried, be ruined at once, was still a frightful\nthought; for Amy might die, and whose hands things might fall into I\nknew not. This gave me great uneasiness, and I knew not what to do; for\nI could not mention it to the prince, lest he should see that I was\nricher than he thought I was.\nBut the prince made all this easy to me; for in concerting measures for\nour journey he started the thing himself, and asked me merrily one\nevening who I would trust with all my wealth in my absence.\n\"My wealth, my lord,\" said I, \"except what I owe to your goodness is but\nsmall, but yet that little I have, I confess, causes some\nthoughtfulness, because I have no acquaintance in Paris that I dare\ntrust with it, nor anybody but my woman to leave in the house; and how\nto do without her upon the road I do not well know.\"\n\"As to the road, be not concerned,\" says the prince; \"I'll provide you\nservants to your mind; and as for your woman, if you can trust her,\nleave her here, and I'll put you in a way how to secure things as well\nas if you were at home.\" I bowed, and told him I could not be put into\nbetter hands than his own, and that, therefore, I would govern all my\nmeasures by his directions; so we talked no more of it that night.\nThe next day he sent me in a great iron chest, so large that it was as\nmuch as six lusty fellows could get up the steps into the house; and in\nthis I put, indeed, all my wealth; and for my safety he ordered a good,\nhonest, ancient man and his wife to be in the house with her, to keep\nher company, and a maid-servant and boy; so that there was a good\nfamily, and Amy was madam, the mistress of the house.\nThings being thus secured, we set out incog., as he called it; but we\nhad two coaches and six horses, two chaises, and about eight\nmen-servants on horseback, all very well armed.\nNever was woman better used in this world that went upon no other\naccount than I did. I had three women-servants to wait on me, one\nwhereof was an old Madame ----, who thoroughly understood her business,\nand managed everything as if she had been major-domo; so I had no\ntrouble. They had one coach to themselves, and the prince and I in the\nother; only that sometimes, where he knew it necessary, I went into\ntheir coach, and one particular gentleman of the retinue rode with him.\nI shall say no more of the journey than that when we came to those\nfrightful mountains, the Alps, there was no travelling in our coaches,\nso he ordered a horse-litter, but carried by mules, to be provided for\nme, and himself went on horseback. The coaches went some other way back\nto Lyons. Then we had coaches hired at Turin, which met us at Suza; so\nthat we were accommodated again, and went by easy journeys afterwards to\nRome, where his business, whatever it was, called him to stay some time,\nand from thence to Venice.\nHe was as good as his word, indeed; for I had the pleasure of his\ncompany, and, in a word, engrossed his conversation almost all the way.\nHe took delight in showing me everything that was to be seen, and\nparticularly in telling me something of the history of everything he\nshowed me.\nWhat valuable pains were here thrown away upon one who he was sure, at\nlast, to abandon with regret! How below himself did a man of quality and\nof a thousand accomplishments behave in all this! It is one of my\nreasons for entering into this part, which otherwise would not be worth\nrelating. Had I been a daughter or a wife, of whom it might be said that\nhe had a just concern in their instruction or improvement, it had been\nan admirable step; but all this to a whore; to one who he carried with\nhim upon no account that could be rationally agreeable, and none but to\ngratify the meanest of human frailties--this was the wonder of it. But\nsuch is the power of a vicious inclination. Whoring was, in a word, his\ndarling crime, the worst excursion he made, for he was otherwise one of\nthe most excellent persons in the world. No passions, no furious\nexcursions, no ostentatious pride; the most humble, courteous, affable\nperson in the world. Not an oath, not an indecent word, or the least\nblemish in behaviour was to be seen in all his conversation, except as\nbefore excepted; and it has given me occasion for many dark reflections\nsince, to look back and think that I should be the snare of such a\nperson's life; that I should influence him to so much wickedness, and\nthat I should be the instrument in the hand of the devil to do him so\nmuch prejudice.\nWe were near two years upon this grand tour, as it may be called, during\nmost of which I resided at Rome or at Venice, having only been twice at\nFlorence and once at Naples. I made some very diverting and useful\nobservations in all these places, and particularly of the conduct of the\nladies; for I had opportunity to converse very much among them, by the\nhelp of the old witch that travelled with us. She had been at Naples and\nat Venice, and had lived in the former several years, where, as I found,\nshe had lived but a loose life, as indeed the women of Naples generally\ndo; and, in short, I found she was fully acquainted with all the\nintriguing arts of that part of the world.\nHere my lord bought me a little female Turkish slave, who, being taken\nat sea by a Maltese man-of-war, was brought in there, and of her I\nlearnt the Turkish language, their way of dressing and dancing, and some\nTurkish, or rather Moorish, songs, of which I made use to my advantage\non an extraordinary occasion some years after, as you shall hear in its\nplace. I need not say I learnt Italian too, for I got pretty well\nmistress of that before I had been there a year; and as I had leisure\nenough and loved the language, I read all the Italian books I could come\nat.\nI began to be so in love with Italy, especially with Naples and Venice,\nthat I could have been very well satisfied to have sent for Amy and have\ntaken up my residence there for life.\nAs to Rome, I did not like it at all. The swarms of ecclesiastics of all\nkinds on one side, and the scoundrel rabbles of the common people on the\nother, make Rome the unpleasantest place in the world to live in. The\ninnumerable number of valets, lackeys, and other servants is such that\nthey used to say that there are very few of the common people in Rome\nbut what have been footmen, or porters, or grooms to cardinals or\nforeign ambassadors. In a word, they have an air of sharping and\ncozening, quarrelling and scolding, upon their general behaviour; and\nwhen I was there the footmen made such a broil between two great\nfamilies in Rome, about which of their coaches (the ladies being in the\ncoaches on either side) should give way to the other, that there was\nabout thirty people wounded on both sides, five or six killed outside,\nand both the ladies frighted almost to death.\nBut I have no mind to write the history of my travels on this side of\nthe world, at least not now; it would be too full of variety.\nI must not, however, omit that the prince continued in all this journey\nthe most kind, obliging person to me in the world, and so constant that,\nthough we were in a country where it is well known all manner of\nliberties are taken, I am yet well assured he neither took the liberty\nhe knew he might have, or so much as desired it.\nI have often thought of this noble person on that account. Had he been\nbut half so true, so faithful and constant, to the best lady in the\nworld--I mean his princess--how glorious a virtue had it been in him!\nAnd how free had he been from those just reflections which touched him\nin her behalf when it was too late!\nWe had some very agreeable conversations upon this subject, and once he\ntold me, with a kind of more than ordinary concern upon his thoughts,\nthat he was greatly beholden to me for taking this hazardous and\ndifficult journey, for that I had kept him honest. I looked up in his\nface, and coloured as red as fire. \"Well, well,\" says he, \"do not let\nthat surprise you, I do say you have kept me honest.\" \"My lord,\" said I,\n\"'tis not for me to explain your words, but I wish I could turn them my\nown way. I hope,\" says I, \"and believe we are both as honest as we can\nbe in our circumstances.\" \"Ay, ay,\" says he; \"and honester than I doubt\nI should have been if you had not been with me. I cannot say but if you\nhad not been here I should have wandered among the gay world here, in\nNaples, and in Venice too, for 'tis not such a crime here as 'tis in\nother places. But I protest,\" says he, \"I have not touched a woman in\nItaly but yourself; and more than that, I have not so much as had any\ndesire to it. So that, I say, you have kept me honest.\"\nI was silent, and was glad that he interrupted me, or kept me from\nspeaking, with kissing me, for really I knew not what to say. I was once\ngoing to say that if his lady, the princess, had been with him, she\nwould doubtless have had the same influence upon his virtue, with\ninfinitely more advantage to him; but I considered this might give him\noffence; and, besides, such things might have been dangerous to the\ncircumstance I stood in, so it passed off. But I must confess I saw that\nhe was quite another man as to women than I understood he had always\nbeen before, and it was a particular satisfaction to me that I was\nthereby convinced that what he said was true, and that he was, as I may\nsay, all my own.\nI was with child again in this journey, and lay in at Venice, but was\nnot so happy as before. I brought him another son, and a very fine boy\nit was, but it lived not above two months; nor, after the first touches\nof affection (which are usual, I believe, to all mothers) were over, was\nI sorry the child did not live, the necessary difficulties attending it\nin our travelling being considered.\nAfter these several perambulations, my lord told me his business began\nto close, and we would think of returning to France, which I was very\nglad of, but principally on account of my treasure I had there, which,\nas you have heard, was very considerable. It is true I had letters very\nfrequently from my maid Amy, with accounts that everything was very\nsafe, and that was very much to my satisfaction. However, as the\nprince's negotiations were at an end, and he was obliged to return, I\nwas very glad to go; so we returned from Venice to Turin, and in the way\nI saw the famous city of Milan. From Turin we went over the mountains\nagain, as before, and our coaches met us at Pont \u00e0 Voisin, between\nChambery and Lyons; and so, by easy journeys, we arrived safely at\nParis, having been absent two years, wanting about eleven days, as\nabove.\nI found the little family we left just as we left them, and Amy cried\nfor joy when she saw me, and I almost did the same.\nThe prince took his leave of me the night before, for, as he told me, he\nknew he should be met upon the road by several persons of quality, and\nperhaps by the princess herself; so we lay at two different inns that\nnight, lest some should come quite to the place, as indeed it happened.\nAfter this I saw him not for above twenty days, being taken up in his\nfamily, and also with business; but he sent me his gentleman to tell me\nthe reason of it, and bid me not be uneasy, and that satisfied me\neffectually.\nIn all this affluence of my good fortune I did not forget that I had\nbeen rich and poor once already alternately, and that I ought to know\nthat the circumstances I was now in were not to be expected to last\nalways; that I had one child, and expected another; and if I had bred\noften, it would something impair me in the great article that supported\nmy interest--I mean, what he called beauty; that as that declined, I\nmight expect the fire would abate, and the warmth with which I was now\nso caressed would cool, and in time, like the other mistresses of great\nmen, I might be dropped again; and that therefore it was my business to\ntake care that I should fall as softly as I could.\nI say, I did not forget, therefore, to make as good provision for\nmyself as if I had had nothing to have subsisted on but what I now\ngained; whereas I had not less than ten thousand pounds, as I said\nabove, which I had amassed, or secured rather, out of the ruins of my\nfaithful friend the jeweller, and which he, little thinking of what was\nso near him when he went out, told me, though in a kind of a jest, was\nall my own, if he was knocked on the head, and which, upon that title, I\ntook care to preserve.\nMy greatest difficulty now was how to secure my wealth and to keep what\nI had got; for I had greatly added to this wealth by the generous bounty\nof the Prince ----, and the more by the private, retired mode of living,\nwhich he rather desired for privacy than parsimony; for he supplied me\nfor a more magnificent way of life than I desired, if it had been\nproper.\nI shall cut short the history of this prosperous wickedness with telling\nyou I brought him a third son, within little more than eleven months\nafter our return from Italy; that now I lived a little more openly, and\nwent by a particular name which he gave me abroad, but which I must\nomit, viz., the Countess de ----; and had coaches and servants, suitable\nto the quality he had given me the appearance of; and, which is more\nthan usually happens in such cases, this held eight years from the\nbeginning, during which time, as I had been very faithful to him, so I\nmust say, as above, that I believe he was so separated to me, that\nwhereas he usually had two or three women, which he kept privately, he\nhad not in all that time meddled with any of them, but that I had so\nperfectly engrossed him that he dropped them all. Not, perhaps, that he\nsaved much by it, for I was a very chargeable mistress to him, that I\nmust acknowledge, but it was all owing to his particular affection to\nme, not to my extravagance, for, as I said, he never gave me leave to\nask him for anything, but poured in his favours and presents faster than\nI expected, and so fast as I could not have the assurance to make the\nleast mention of desiring more. Nor do I speak this of my own guess, I\nmean about his constancy to me and his quitting all other women; but the\nold harridan, as I may call her, whom he made the guide of our\ntravelling, and who was a strange old creature, told me a thousand\nstories of his gallantry, as she called it, and how, as he had no less\nthan three mistresses at one time, and, as I found, all of her\nprocuring, he had of a sudden dropped them all, and that he was entirely\nlost to both her and them; that they did believe he had fallen into some\nnew hands, but she could never hear who, or where, till he sent for her\nto go this journey; and then the old hag complimented me upon his\nchoice; that she did not wonder I had so engrossed him; so much beauty,\n&c.; and there she stopped.\nUpon the whole, I found by her what was, you may be sure, to my\nparticular satisfaction, viz., that, as above, I had him all my own. But\nthe highest tide has its ebb; and in all things of this kind there is a\nreflux which sometimes, also, is more impetuously violent than the first\naggression. My prince was a man of a vast fortune, though no sovereign,\nand therefore there was no probability that the expense of keeping a\nmistress could be injurious to him, as to his estate. He had also\nseveral employments, both out of France as well as in it; for, as above,\nI say he was not a subject of France, though he lived in that court. He\nhad a princess, a wife with whom he had lived several years, and a woman\n(so the voice of fame reported) the most valuable of her sex, of birth\nequal to him, if not superior, and of fortune proportionable; but in\nbeauty, wit, and a thousand good qualities superior, not to most women,\nbut even to all her sex; and as to her virtue, the character which was\njustly her due was that of, not only the best of princesses, but even\nthe best of women.\nThey lived in the utmost harmony, as with such a princess it was\nimpossible to be otherwise. But yet the princess was not insensible that\nher lord had his foibles, that he did make some excursions, and\nparticularly that he had one favourite mistress, which sometimes\nengrossed him more than she (the princess) could wish, or be easily\nsatisfied with. However, she was so good, so generous, so truly kind a\nwife, that she never gave him any uneasiness on this account; except so\nmuch as must arise from his sense of her bearing the affront of it with\nsuch patience, and such a profound respect for him as was in itself\nenough to have reformed him, and did sometimes shock his generous mind,\nso as to keep him at home, as I may call it, a great while together. And\nit was not long before I not only perceived it by his absence, but\nreally got a knowledge of the reason of it, and once or twice he even\nacknowledged it to me.\nIt was a point that lay not in me to manage. I made a kind of motion\nonce or twice to him to leave me, and keep himself to her, as he ought\nby the laws and rites of matrimony to do, and argued the generosity of\nthe princess to him, to persuade him; but I was a hypocrite, for had I\nprevailed with him really to be honest, I had lost him, which I could\nnot bear the thoughts of; and he might easily see I was not in earnest.\nOne time in particular, when I took upon me to talk at this rate, I\nfound, when I argued so much for the virtue and honour, the birth, and,\nabove all, the generous usage he found in the person of the princess\nwith respect to his private amours, and how it should prevail upon him,\n&c., I found it began to affect him, and he returned, \"And do you\nindeed,\" says he, \"persuade me to leave you? Would you have me think\nyou sincere?\" I looked up in his face, smiling. \"Not for any other\nfavourite, my lord,\" says I; \"that would break my heart; but for madam\nthe princess!\" said I; and then I could say no more. Tears followed, and\nI sat silent a while. \"Well,\" said he, \"if ever I do leave you, it shall\nbe on the virtuous account; it shall be for the princess; I assure you\nit shall be for no other woman.\" \"That's enough, my lord,\" said I;\n\"there I ought to submit; and while I am assured it shall be for no\nother mistress, I promise your Highness I will not repine; or that, if I\ndo, it shall be a silent grief; it shall not interrupt your felicity.\"\nAll this while I said I knew not what, and said what I was no more able\nto do than he was able to leave me; which, at that time, he owned he\ncould not do--no, not for the princess herself.\nBut another turn of affairs determined this matter, for the princess was\ntaken very ill, and, in the opinion of all her physicians, very\ndangerously so. In her sickness she desired to speak with her lord, and\nto take her leave of him. At this grievous parting she said so many\npassionate, kind things to him, lamented that she had left him no\nchildren (she had had three, but they were dead); hinted to him that it\nwas one of the chief things which gave her satisfaction in death, as to\nthis world, that she should leave him room to have heirs to his family,\nby some princess that should supply her place; with all humility, but\nwith a Christian earnestness, recommended to him to do justice to such\nprincess, whoever it should be, from whom, to be sure, he would expect\njustice; that is to say, to keep to her singly, according to the\nsolemnest part of the marriage covenant; humbly asked his Highness's\npardon if she had any way offended him; and appealing to Heaven, before\nwhose tribunal she was to appear, that she had never violated her honour\nor her duty to him, and praying to Jesus and the blessed Virgin for his\nHighness; and thus, with the most moving and most passionate expressions\nof her affection to him, took her last leave of him, and died the next\nday.\nThis discourse, from a princess so valuable in herself and so dear to\nhim, and the loss of her following so immediately after, made such deep\nimpressions on him that he looked back with detestation upon the former\npart of his life, grew melancholy and reserved, changed his society and\nmuch of the general conduct of his life, resolved on a life regulated\nmost strictly by the rules of virtue and piety, and, in a word, was\nquite another man.\nThe first part of his reformation was a storm upon me; for, about ten\ndays after the princess's funeral, he sent a message to me by his\ngentleman, intimating, though in very civil terms, and with a short\npreamble or introduction, that he desired I would not take it ill that\nhe was obliged to let me know that he could see me no more. His\ngentleman told me a long story of the new regulation of life his lord\nhad taken up; and that he had been so afflicted for the loss of his\nprincess that he thought it would either shorten his life or he would\nretire into some religious house, to end his days in solitude.\nI need not direct anybody to suppose how I received this news. I was\nindeed exceedingly surprised at it, and had much ado to support myself\nwhen the first part of it was delivered, though the gentleman delivered\nhis errand with great respect, and with all the regard to me that he was\nable, and with a great deal of ceremony, also telling me how much he was\nconcerned to bring me such a message.\nBut when I heard the particulars of the story at large, and especially\nthat of the lady's discourse to the prince a little before her death, I\nwas fully satisfied. I knew very well he had done nothing but what any\nman must do that had a true sense upon him of the justice of the\nprincess's discourse to him, and of the necessity there was of his\naltering his course of life, if he intended to be either a Christian or\nan honest man. I say, when I heard this I was perfectly easy. I confess\nit was a circumstance that it might be reasonably expected should have\nwrought something also upon me; I that had so much to reflect upon more\nthan the prince; that had now no more temptation of poverty, or of the\npowerful motive which Amy used with me--namely, comply and live, deny\nand starve; I say, I that had no poverty to introduce vice, but was\ngrown not only well supplied, but rich; and not only rich, but was very\nrich; in a word, richer than I knew how to think of, for the truth of it\nwas, that thinking of it sometimes almost distracted me, for want of\nknowing how to dispose of it, and for fear of losing it all again by\nsome cheat or trick, not knowing anybody that I could commit the trust\nof it to.\nBesides, I should add, at the close of this affair, that the prince did\nnot, as I may say, turn me off rudely and with disgust, but with all the\ndecency and goodness peculiar to himself, and that could consist with a\nman reformed and struck with the sense of his having abused so good a\nlady as his late princess had been. Nor did he send me away empty, but\ndid everything like himself; and, in particular, ordered his gentleman\nto pay the rent of the house and all the expense of his two sons, and to\ntell me how they were taken care of, and where, and also that I might at\nall times inspect the usage they had, and if I disliked anything it\nshould be rectified; and having thus finished everything, he retired\ninto Lorraine, or somewhere that way, where he had an estate, and I\nnever heard of him more--I mean, not as a mistress.\nNow I was at liberty to go to any part of the world, and take care of my\nmoney myself. The first thing that I resolved to do was to go directly\nto England, for there, I thought, being among my country-folks--for I\nesteemed myself an Englishwoman, though I was born in France--there, I\nsay, I thought I could better manage things than in France; at least,\nthat I would be in less danger of being circumvented and deceived; but\nhow to get away with such a treasure as I had with me was a difficult\npoint, and what I was greatly at a loss about.\nThere was a Dutch merchant in Paris, that was a person of great\nreputation for a man of substance and of honesty, but I had no manner of\nacquaintance with him, nor did I know how to get acquainted with him, so\nas to discover my circumstances to him; but at last I employed my maid\nAmy (such I must be allowed to call her, notwithstanding what has been\nsaid of her, because she was in the place of a maid-servant); I say, I\nemployed my maid Amy to go to him, and she got a recommendation to him\nfrom somebody else, I knew not who, so that she got access to him well\nenough.\nBut now was my case as bad as before, for when I came to him what could\nI do? I had money and jewels to a vast value, and I might leave all\nthose with him; that I might indeed do; and so I might with several\nother merchants in Paris, who would give me bills for it, payable at\nLondon; but then I ran a hazard of my money, and I had nobody at London\nto send the bills to, and so to stay till I had an account that they\nwere accepted; for I had not one friend in London that I could have\nrecourse to, so that indeed I knew not what to do.\nIn this case I had no remedy but that I must trust somebody, so I sent\nAmy to this Dutch merchant, as I said above. He was a little surprised\nwhen Amy came to him and talked to him of remitting a sum of about\ntwelve thousand pistoles to England, and began to think she came to put\nsome cheat upon him; but when he found that Amy was but a servant, and\nthat I came to him myself, the case was altered presently.\nWhen I came to him myself, I presently saw such a plainness in his\ndealing and such honesty in his countenance that I made no scruple to\ntell him my whole story, viz., that I was a widow, that I had some\njewels to dispose of, and also some money which I had a mind to send to\nEngland, and to follow there myself; but being but a woman, and having\nno correspondence in London, or anywhere else, I knew not what to do,\nor how to secure my effects.\nHe dealt very candidly with me, but advised me, when he knew my case so\nparticularly, to take bills upon Amsterdam, and to go that way to\nEngland; for that I might lodge my treasure in the bank there, in the\nmost secure manner in the world, and that there he could recommend me to\na man who perfectly understood jewels, and would deal faithfully with me\nin the disposing them.\nI thanked him, but scrupled very much the travelling so far in a strange\ncountry, and especially with such a treasure about me; that, whether\nknown or concealed, I did not know how to venture with it. Then he told\nme he would try to dispose of them there, that is, at Paris, and convert\nthem into money, and so get me bills for the whole; and in a few days he\nbrought a Jew to me, who pretended to buy the jewels. As soon as the Jew\nsaw the jewels I saw my folly, and it was ten thousand to one but I had\nbeen ruined, and perhaps put to death in as cruel a manner as possible;\nand I was put in such a fright by it that I was once upon the point of\nflying for my life, and leaving the jewels and money too in the hands of\nthe Dutchman, without any bills or anything else. The case was thus:--\nAs soon as the Jew saw the jewels he falls a-jabbering, in Dutch or\nPortuguese, to the merchant; and I could presently perceive that they\nwere in some great surprise, both of them. The Jew held up his hands,\nlooked at me with some horror, then talked Dutch again, and put himself\ninto a thousand shapes, twisting his body and wringing up his face this\nway and that way in his discourse, stamping with his feet, and throwing\nabroad his hands, as if he was not in a rage only, but in a mere fury.\nThen he would turn and give a look at me like the devil. I thought I\nnever saw anything so frightful in my life.\nAt length I put in a word. \"Sir,\" says I to the Dutch merchant, \"what is\nall this discourse to my business? What is this gentleman in all these\npassions about? I wish, if he is to treat with me, he would speak that I\nmay understand him; or if you have business of your own between you that\nis to be done first, let me withdraw, and I'll come again when you are\nat leisure.\"\n\"No, no, madam,\" says the Dutchman very kindly, \"you must not go; all\nour discourse is about you and your jewels, and you shall hear it\npresently; it concerns you very much, I assure you.\" \"Concern me!\" says\nI. \"What can it concern me so much as to put this gentleman into such\nagonies, and what makes him give me such devil's looks as he does? Why,\nhe looks as if he would devour me.\"\nThe Jew understood me presently, continuing in a kind of rage, and spoke\nin French: \"Yes, madam, it does concern you much, very much, very much,\"\nrepeating the words, shaking his head; and then turning to the Dutchman,\n\"Sir,\" says he, \"pray tell her what is the case.\" \"No,\" says the\nmerchant, \"not yet; let us talk a little farther of it by ourselves;\"\nupon which they withdrew into another room, where still they talked very\nhigh, but in a language I did not understand. I began to be a little\nsurprised at what the Jew had said, you may be sure, and eager to know\nwhat he meant, and was very impatient till the Dutch merchant came back,\nand that so impatient that I called one of his servants to let him know\nI desired to speak with him. When he came in I asked his pardon for\nbeing so impatient, but told him I could not be easy till he had told me\nwhat the meaning of all this was. \"Why, madam,\" says the Dutch merchant,\n\"in short, the meaning is what I am surprised at too. This man is a Jew,\nand understands jewels perfectly well, and that was the reason I sent\nfor him, to dispose of them to him for you; but as soon as he saw them,\nhe knew the jewels very distinctly, and flying out in a passion, as you\nsee he did, told me, in short, that they were the very parcel of jewels\nwhich the English jeweller had about him who was robbed going to\nVersailles, about eight years ago, to show them the Prince de ----, and\nthat it was for these very jewels that the poor gentleman was murdered;\nand he is in all this agony to make me ask you how you came by them; and\nhe says you ought to be charged with the robbery and murder, and put to\nthe question to discover who were the persons that did it, that they\nmight be brought to justice.\" While he said this the Jew came impudently\nback into the room without calling, which a little surprised me again.\nThe Dutch merchant spoke pretty good English, and he knew that the Jew\ndid not understand English at all, so he told me the latter part, when\nhe came into the room, in English, at which I smiled, which put the Jew\ninto his mad fit again, and shaking his head and making his devil's\nfaces again, he seemed to threaten me for laughing, saying, in French,\nthis was an affair I should have little reason to laugh at, and the\nlike. At this I laughed again, and flouted him, letting him see that I\nscorned him, and turning to the Dutch merchant, \"Sir,\" says I, \"that\nthose jewels were belonging to Mr. ----, the English jeweller\" (naming\nhis name readily), \"in that,\" says I, \"this person is right; but that I\nshould be questioned how I came to have them is a token of his\nignorance, which, however, he might have managed with a little more good\nmanners, till I told him who I am, and both he and you too will be more\neasy in that part when I should tell you that I am the unhappy widow of\nthat Mr. ---- who was so barbarously murdered going to Versailles, and\nthat he was not robbed of those jewels, but of others, Mr. ---- having\nleft those behind him with me, lest he should be robbed. Had I, sir,\ncome otherwise by them, I should not have been weak enough to have\nexposed them to sale here, where the thing was done, but have carried\nthem farther off.\"\nThis was an agreeable surprise to the Dutch merchant, who, being an\nhonest man himself, believed everything I said, which, indeed, being all\nreally and literally true, except the deficiency of my marriage, I spoke\nwith such an unconcerned easiness that it might plainly be seen that I\nhad no guilt upon me, as the Jew suggested.\nThe Jew was confounded when he heard that I was the jeweller's wife. But\nas I had raised his passion with saying he looked at me with the devil's\nface, he studied mischief in his heart, and answered, that should not\nserve my turn; so called the Dutchman out again, when he told him that\nhe resolved to prosecute this matter farther.\nThere was one kind chance in this affair, which, indeed, was my\ndeliverance, and that was, that the fool could not restrain his passion,\nbut must let it fly to the Dutch merchant, to whom, when they withdrew a\nsecond time, as above, he told that he would bring a process against me\nfor the murder, and that it should cost me dear for using him at that\nrate; and away he went, desiring the Dutch merchant to tell him when I\nwould be there again. Had he suspected that the Dutchman would have\ncommunicated the particulars to me, he would never have been so foolish\nas to have mentioned that part to him.\nBut the malice of his thoughts anticipated him, and the Dutch merchant\nwas so good as to give me an account of his design, which, indeed, was\nwicked enough in its nature; but to me it would have been worse than\notherwise it would to another, for, upon examination, I could not have\nproved myself to be the wife of the jeweller, so the suspicion might\nhave been carried on with the better face; and then I should also have\nbrought all his relations in England upon me, who, finding by the\nproceedings that I was not his wife, but a mistress, or, in English, a\nwhore, would immediately have laid claim to the jewels, as I had owned\nthem to be his.\nThis thought immediately rushed into my head as soon as the Dutch\nmerchant had told me what wicked things were in the head of that cursed\nJew; and the villain (for so I must call him) convinced the Dutch\nmerchant that he was in earnest by an expression which showed the rest\nof his design, and that was, a plot to get the rest of the jewels into\nhis hand.\nWhen first he hinted to the Dutchman that the jewels were such a man's\n(meaning my husband's), he made wonderful exclamations on account of\ntheir having been concealed so long. Where must they have lain? And what\nwas the woman that brought them? And that she (meaning me) ought to be\nimmediately apprehended and put into the hands of justice. And this was\nthe time that, as I said, he made such horrid gestures and looked at me\nso like a devil.\nThe merchant, hearing him talk at that rate, and seeing him in earnest,\nsaid to him, \"Hold your tongue a little; this is a thing of consequence.\nIf it be so, let you and I go into the next room and consider of it\nthere;\" and so they withdrew, and left me.\nHere, as before, I was uneasy, and called him out, and, having heard how\nit was, gave him that answer, that I was his wife, or widow, which the\nmalicious Jew said should not serve my turn. And then it was that the\nDutchman called him out again; and in this time of his withdrawing, the\nmerchant, finding, as above, that he was really in earnest,\ncounterfeited a little to be of his mind, and entered into proposals\nwith him for the thing itself.\nIn this they agreed to go to an advocate, or counsel, for directions how\nto proceed, and to meet again the next day, against which time the\nmerchant was to appoint me to come again with the jewels, in order to\nsell them. \"No,\" says the merchant, \"I will go farther with her than so;\nI will desire her to leave the jewels with me, to show to another\nperson, in order to get the better price for them.\" \"That's right,\" says\nthe Jew; \"and I'll engage she shall never be mistress of them again;\nthey shall either be seized by us,\" says he, \"in the king's name, or she\nshall be glad to give them up to us to prevent her being put to the\ntorture.\"\nThe merchant said \"Yes\" to everything he offered, and they agreed to\nmeet the next morning about it, and I was to be persuaded to leave the\njewels with him, and come to them the next day at four o'clock in order\nto make a good bargain for them; and on these conditions they parted.\nBut the honest Dutchman, filled with indignation at the barbarous\ndesign, came directly to me and told me the whole story. \"And now,\nmadam,\" says he, \"you are to consider immediately what you have to do.\"\nI told him, if I was sure to have justice, I would not fear all that\nsuch a rogue could do to me; but how such things were carried on in\nFrance I knew not. I told him the greatest difficulty would be to prove\nour marriage, for that it was done in England, and in a remote part of\nEngland too; and, which was worse, it would be hard to produce authentic\nvouchers of it, because we were married in private. \"But as to the death\nof your husband, madam, what can be said to that?\" said he. \"Nay,\" said\nI, \"what can they say to it? In England,\" added I, \"if they would offer\nsuch an injury to any one, they must prove the fact or give just reason\nfor their suspicions. That my husband was murdered, that every one\nknows; but that he was robbed, or of what, or how much, that none\nknows--no, not myself; and why was I not questioned for it then? I have\nlived in Paris ever since, lived publicly, and no man had yet the\nimpudence to suggest such a thing of me.\"\n\"I am fully satisfied of that,\" says the merchant; \"but as this is a\nrogue who will stick at nothing, what can we say? And who knows what he\nmay swear? Suppose he should swear that he knows your husband had those\nparticular jewels with him the morning when he went out, and that he\nshowed them to him to consider their value, and what price he should ask\nthe Prince de ---- for them?\"\n\"Nay, by the same rule,\" said I, \"he may swear that I murdered my\nhusband, if he finds it for his turn.\" \"That's true,\" said he; \"and if\nhe should, I do not see what could save you;\" but added, \"I have found\nout his more immediate design. His design is to have you carried to the\nCh\u00e2telet, that the suspicion may appear just, and then to get the jewels\nout of your hands if possible; then, at last, to drop the prosecution on\nyour consenting to quit the jewels to him; and how you will do to avoid\nthis is the question which I would have you consider of.\"\n\"My misfortune, sir,\" said I, \"is that I have no time to consider, and I\nhave no person to consider with or advise about it. I find that\ninnocence may be oppressed by such an impudent fellow as this; he that\ndoes not value perjury has any man's life at his mercy. But, sir,\" said\nI, \"is the justice such here that, while I may be in the hands of the\npublic and under prosecution, he may get hold of my effects and get my\njewels into his hands?\"\n\"I don't know,\" says he, \"what may be done in that case; but if not he,\nif the court of justice should get hold of them I do not know but you\nmay find it as difficult to get them out of their hands again, and, at\nleast, it may cost you half as much as they are worth; so I think it\nwould be a much better way to prevent their coming at them at all.\"\n\"But what course can I take to do that,\" says I, \"now they have got\nnotice that I have them? If they get me into their hands they will\noblige me to produce them, or perhaps sentence me to prison till I do.\"\n\"Nay,\" says he, \"as this brute says, too, put you to the question--that\nis, to the torture, on pretence of making you confess who were the\nmurderers of your husband.\"\n\"Confess!\" said I. \"How can I confess what I know nothing of?\"\n\"If they come to have you to the rack,\" said he, \"they will make you\nconfess you did it yourself, whether you did it or no, and then you are\ncast.\"\nThe very word rack frighted me to death almost, and I had no spirit left\nin me. \"Did it myself!\" said I. \"That's impossible!\"\n\"No, madam,\" says he, \"'tis far from impossible. The most innocent\npeople in the world have been forced to confess themselves guilty of\nwhat they never heard of, much less had any hand in.\"\n\"What, then, must I do?\" said I. \"What would you advise me to?\"\n\"Why,\" says he, \"I would advise you to be gone. You intended to go away\nin four or five days, and you may as well go in two days; and if you can\ndo so, I shall manage it so that he shall not suspect your being gone\nfor several days after.\" Then he told me how the rogue would have me\nordered to bring the jewels the next day for sale, and that then he\nwould have me apprehended; how he had made the Jew believe he would join\nwith him in his design, and that he (the merchant) would get the jewels\ninto his hands. \"Now,\" says the merchant, \"I shall give you bills for\nthe money you desired, immediately, and such as shall not fail of being\npaid. Take your jewels with you, and go this very evening to St.\nGermain-en-Laye; I'll send a man thither with you, and from thence he\nshall guide you to-morrow to Rouen, where there lies a ship of mine,\njust ready to sail for Rotterdam; you shall have your passage in that\nship on my account, and I will send orders for him to sail as soon as\nyou are on board, and a letter to my friend at Rotterdam to entertain\nand take care of you.\"\nThis was too kind an offer for me, as things stood, not to be accepted,\nand be thankful for; and as to going away, I had prepared everything for\nparting, so that I had little to do but to go back, take two or three\nboxes and bundles, and such things, and my maid Amy, and be gone.\nThen the merchant told me the measures he had resolved to take to delude\nthe Jew while I made my escape, which was very well contrived indeed.\n\"First,\" said he, \"when he comes to-morrow I shall tell him that I\nproposed to you to leave the jewels with me, as we agreed, but that you\nsaid you would come and bring them in the afternoon, so that we must\nstay for you till four o'clock; but then, at that time, I will show a\nletter from you, as if just come in, wherein you shall excuse your not\ncoming, for that some company came to visit you, and prevented you; but\nthat you desire me to take care that the gentleman be ready to buy your\njewels, and that you will come to-morrow at the same hour, without\nfail.\n\"When to-morrow is come, we shall wait at the time, but you not\nappearing, I shall seem most dissatisfied, and wonder what can be the\nreason; and so we shall agree to go the next day to get out a process\nagainst you. But the next day, in the morning, I'll send to give him\nnotice that you have been at my house, but he not being there, have made\nanother appointment, and that I desire to speak with him. When he comes,\nI'll tell him you appear perfectly blind as to your danger, and that you\nappeared much disappointed that he did not come, though you could not\nmeet the night before; and obliged me to have him here to-morrow at\nthree o'clock. When to-morrow comes,\" says he, \"you shall send word that\nyou are taken so ill that you cannot come out for that day, but that you\nwill not fail the next day; and the next day you shall neither come or\nsend, nor let us ever hear any more of you; for by that time you shall\nbe in Holland, if you please.\"\nI could not but approve all his measures, seeing they were so well\ncontrived, and in so friendly a manner, for my benefit; and as he seemed\nto be so very sincere, I resolved to put my life in his hands.\nImmediately I went to my lodgings, and sent away Amy with such bundles\nas I had prepared for my travelling. I also sent several parcels of my\nfine furniture to the merchant's house to be laid up for me, and\nbringing the key of the lodgings with me, I came back to his house. Here\nwe finished our matters of money, and I delivered into his hands seven\nthousand eight hundred pistoles in bills and money, a copy of an\nassignment on the townhouse of Paris for four thousand pistoles, at\nthree per cent. interest, attested, and a procuration for receiving the\ninterest half-yearly; but the original I kept myself.\nI could have trusted all I had with him, for he was perfectly honest,\nand had not the least view of doing me any wrong. Indeed, after it was\nso apparent that he had, as it were, saved my life, or at least saved me\nfrom being exposed and ruined--I say, after this, how could I doubt him\nin anything?\nWhen I came to him, he had everything ready as I wanted, and as he had\nproposed. As to my money, he gave me first of all an accepted bill,\npayable at Rotterdam, for four thousand pistoles, and drawn from Genoa\nupon a merchant at Rotterdam, payable to a merchant at Paris, and\nendorsed by him to my merchant; this, he assured me, would be punctually\npaid; and so it was, to a day. The rest I had in other bills of\nexchange, drawn by himself upon other merchants in Holland. Having\nsecured my jewels too, as well as I could, he sent me away the same\nevening in a friend's coach, which he had procured for me, to St.\nGermain, and the next morning to Rouen. He also sent a servant of his\nown on horseback with me, who provided everything for me, and who\ncarried his orders to the captain of the ship, which lay about three\nmiles below Rouen, in the river, and by his directions I went\nimmediately on board. The third day after I was on board the ship went\naway, and we were out at sea the next day after that; and thus I took my\nleave of France, and got clear of an ugly business, which, had it gone\non, might have ruined me, and sent me back as naked to England as I was\na little before I left it.\nAnd now Amy and I were at leisure to look upon the mischiefs that we had\nescaped; and had I had any religion or any sense of a Supreme Power,\nmanaging, directing, and governing in both causes and events in this\nworld, such a case as this would have given anybody room to have been\nvery thankful to the Power who had not only put such a treasure into my\nhand, but given me such an escape from the ruin that threatened me; but\nI had none of those things about me. I had, indeed, a grateful sense\nupon my mind of the generous friendship of my deliverer, the Dutch\nmerchant, by whom I was so faithfully served, and by whom, as far as\nrelates to second causes, I was preserved from destruction.\nI say, I had a grateful sense upon my mind of his kindness and\nfaithfulness to me, and I resolved to show him some testimony of it as\nsoon as I came to the end of my rambles, for I was yet but in a state of\nuncertainty, and sometimes that gave me a little uneasiness too. I had\npaper indeed for my money, and he had showed himself very good to me in\nconveying me away, as above; but I had not seen the end of things yet,\nfor unless the bills were paid, I might still be a great loser by my\nDutchman, and he might, perhaps, have contrived all that affair of the\nJew to put me into a fright and get me to run away, and that as if it\nwere to save my life; that if the bills should be refused, I was cheated\nwith a witness, and the like. But these were but surmises, and, indeed,\nwere perfectly without cause, for the honest man acted as honest men\nalways do, with an upright and disinterested principle, and with a\nsincerity not often to be found in the world. What gain he made by the\nexchange was just, and was nothing but what was his due, and was in the\nway of his business; but otherwise he made no advantage of me at all.\nWhen I passed in the ship between Dover and Calais and saw beloved\nEngland once more under my view--England, which I counted my native\ncountry, being the place I was bred up in, though not born there--a\nstrange kind of joy possessed my mind, and I had such a longing desire\nto be there that I would have given the master of the ship twenty\npistoles to have stood over and set me on shore in the Downs; and when\nhe told me he could not do it--that is, that he durst not do it if I\nwould have given him a hundred pistoles--I secretly wished that a storm\nwould rise that might drive the ship over to the coast of England,\nwhether they would or not, that I might be set on shore anywhere upon\nEnglish ground.\nThis wicked wish had not been out of my thoughts above two or three\nhours, but the master steering away to the north, as was his course to\ndo, we lost sight of land on that side, and only had the Flemish shore\nin view on our right hand, or, as the seamen call it, the starboard\nside; and then, with the loss of the sight, the wish for landing in\nEngland abated, and I considered how foolish it was to wish myself out\nof the way of my business; that if I had been on shore in England, I\nmust go back to Holland on account of my bills, which were so\nconsiderable, and I having no correspondence there, that I could not\nhave managed it without going myself. But we had not been out of sight\nof England many hours before the weather began to change; the winds\nwhistled and made a noise, and the seamen said to one another that it\nwould blow hard at night. It was then about two hours before sunset, and\nwe were passed by Dunkirk, and I think they said we were in sight of\nOstend; but then the wind grew high and the sea swelled, and all things\nlooked terrible, especially to us that understood nothing but just what\nwe saw before us; in short, night came on, and very dark it was; the\nwind freshened and blew harder and harder, and about two hours within\nnight it blew a terrible storm.\nI was not quite a stranger to the sea, having come from Rochelle to\nEngland when I was a child, and gone from London, by the River Thames,\nto France afterward, as I have said. But I began to be alarmed a little\nwith the terrible clamour of the men over my head, for I had never been\nin a storm, and so had never seen the like, or heard it; and once\noffering to look out at the door of the steerage, as they called it, it\nstruck me with such horror (the darkness, the fierceness of the wind,\nthe dreadful height of the waves, and the hurry the Dutch sailors were\nin, whose language I did not understand one word of, neither when they\ncursed or when they prayed); I say, all these things together filled me\nwith terror, and, in short, I began to be very much frighted.\nWhen I was come back into the great cabin, there sat Amy, who was very\nsea-sick, and I had a little before given her a sup of cordial waters to\nhelp her stomach. When Amy saw me come back and sit down without\nspeaking, for so I did, she looked two or three times up at me; at last\nshe came running to me. \"Dear madam,\" says she, \"what is the matter?\nWhat makes you look so pale? Why, you an't well; what is the matter?\" I\nsaid nothing still, but held up my hands two or three times. Amy doubled\nher importunities; upon that I said no more but, \"Step to the\nsteerage-door, and look out, as I did;\" so she went away immediately,\nand looked too, as I had bidden her; but the poor girl came back again\nin the greatest amazement and horror that ever I saw any poor creature\nin, wringing her hands and crying out she was undone! she was undone!\nshe should be drowned! they were all lost! Thus she ran about the cabin\nlike a mad thing, and as perfectly out of her senses as any one in such\na case could be supposed to be. I was frighted myself, but when I saw\nthe girl in such a terrible agony, it brought me a little to myself, and\nI began to talk to her and put her in a little hope. I told her there\nwas many a ship in a storm that was not cast away, and I hoped we should\nnot be drowned; that it was true the storm was very dreadful, but I did\nnot see that the seamen were so much concerned as we were. And so I\ntalked to her as well as I could, though my heart was full enough of it,\nas well as Amy's; and death began to stare in my face; ay, and something\nelse too--that is to say, conscience, and my mind was very much\ndisturbed; but I had nobody to comfort me.\nBut Amy being in so much worse a condition--that is to say, so much more\nterrified at the storm than I was--I had something to do to comfort her.\nShe was, as I have said, like one distracted, and went raving about the\ncabin, crying out she was undone! undone! she should be drowned! and the\nlike. And at last, the ship giving a jerk, by the force, I suppose, of\nsome violent wave, it threw poor Amy quite down, for she was weak enough\nbefore with being sea-sick, and as it threw her forward, the poor girl\nstruck her head against the bulk-head, as the seamen call it, of the\ncabin, and laid her as dead as a stone upon the floor or deck; that is\nto say, she was so to all appearance.\nI cried out for help, but it had been all one to have cried out on the\ntop of a mountain where nobody had been within five miles of me, for the\nseamen were so engaged and made so much noise that nobody heard me or\ncame near me. I opened the great cabin door, and looked into the\nsteerage to cry for help, but there, to increase my fright, was two\nseamen on their knees at prayers, and only one man who steered, and he\nmade a groaning noise too, which I took to be saying his prayers, but it\nseems it was answering to those above, when they called to him to tell\nhim which way to steer.\nHere was no help for me, or for poor Amy, and there she lay still so,\nand in such a condition, that I did not know whether she was dead or\nalive. In this fright I went to her, and lifted her a little way up,\nsetting her on the deck, with her back to the boards of the bulk-head;\nand I got a little bottle out of my pocket, and I held it to her nose,\nand rubbed her temples and what else I could do, but still Amy showed no\nsigns of life, till I felt for her pulse, but could hardly distinguish\nher to be alive. However, after a great while, she began to revive, and\nin about half-an-hour she came to herself, but remembered nothing at\nfirst of what had happened to her for a good while more.\nWhen she recovered more fully, she asked me where she was. I told her\nshe was in the ship yet, but God knows how long it might be. \"Why,\nmadam,\" says she, \"is not the storm over?\" \"No, no,\" says I, \"Amy.\"\n\"Why, madam,\" says she, \"it was calm just now\" (meaning when she was in\nthe swooning fit occasioned by her fall). \"Calm, Amy!\" says I. \"'Tis far\nfrom calm. It may be it will be calm by-and-by, when we are all drowned\nand gone to heaven.\"\n\"Heaven, madam!\" says she. \"What makes you talk so? Heaven! I go to\nheaven! No, no; if I am drowned I am damned! Don't you know what a\nwicked creature I have been? I have been a whore to two men, and have\nlived a wretched, abominable life of vice and wickedness for fourteen\nyears. Oh, madam! you know it, and God knows it, and now I am to die--to\nbe drowned! Oh! what will become of me? I am undone for ever!--ay,\nmadam, for ever! to all eternity! Oh! I am lost! I am lost! If I am\ndrowned, I am lost for ever!\"\nAll these, you will easily suppose, must be so many stabs into the very\nsoul of one in my own case. It immediately occurred to me, \"Poor Amy!\nwhat art thou that I am not? What hast thou been that I have not been?\nNay, I am guilty of my own sin and thine too.\" Then it came to my\nremembrance that I had not only been the same with Amy, but that I had\nbeen the devil's instrument to make her wicked; that I had stripped her,\nand prostituted her to the very man that I had been naught with myself;\nthat she had but followed me, I had been her wicked example; and I had\nled her into all; and that, as we had sinned together, now we were\nlikely to sink together.\nAll this repeated itself to my thoughts at that very moment, and every\none of Amy's cries sounded thus in my ears: \"I am the wicked cause of it\nall! I have been thy ruin, Amy! I have brought thee to this, and now\nthou art to suffer for the sin I have enticed thee to! And if thou art\nlost for ever, what must I be? what must be my portion?\"\nIt is true this difference was between us, that I said all these things\nwithin myself, and sighed and mourned inwardly; but Amy, as her temper\nwas more violent, spoke aloud, and cried, and called out aloud, like one\nin agony.\nI had but small encouragement to give her, and indeed could say but very\nlittle, but I got her to compose herself a little, and not let any of\nthe people of the ship understand what she meant or what she said; but\neven in her greatest composure she continued to express herself with the\nutmost dread and terror on account of the wicked life she had lived,\ncrying out she should be damned, and the like, which was very terrible\nto me, who knew what condition I was in myself.\nUpon these serious considerations, I was very penitent too for my former\nsins, and cried out, though softly, two or three times, \"Lord, have\nmercy upon me!\" To this I added abundance of resolutions of what a life\nI would live if it should please God but to spare my life but this one\ntime; how I would live a single and a virtuous life, and spend a great\ndeal of what I had thus wickedly got in acts of charity and doing good.\nUnder these dreadful apprehensions I looked back on the life I had led\nwith the utmost contempt and abhorrence. I blushed, and wondered at\nmyself how I could act thus, how I could divest myself of modesty and\nhonour, and prostitute myself for gain; and I thought, if ever it should\nplease God to spare me this one time from death, it would not be\npossible that I should be the same creature again.\nAmy went farther; she prayed, she resolved, she vowed to lead a new\nlife, if God would spare her but this time. It now began to be daylight,\nfor the storm held all night long, and it was some comfort to see the\nlight of another day, which none of us expected; but the sea went\nmountains high, and the noise of the water was as frightful to us as the\nsight of the waves; nor was any land to be seen, nor did the seamen know\nwhereabout they were. At last, to our great joy, they made land, which\nwas in England, and on the coast of Suffolk; and the ship being in the\nutmost distress, they ran for the shore at all hazards, and with great\ndifficulty got into Harwich, where they were safe, as to the danger of\ndeath; but the ship was so full of water and so much damaged that if\nthey had not laid her on shore the same day she would have sunk before\nnight, according to the opinion of the seamen, and of the workmen on\nshore too who were hired to assist them in stopping their leaks.\nAmy was revived as soon as she heard they had espied land, and went out\nupon the deck; but she soon came in again to me. \"Oh, madam!\" says she,\n\"there's the land indeed to be seen. It looks like a ridge of clouds,\nand may be all a cloud for aught I know; but if it be land, 'tis a\ngreat way off, and the sea is in such a combustion, we shall all perish\nbefore we can reach it. 'Tis the dreadfullest sight to look at the\nwaves that ever was seen. Why, they are as high as mountains; we shall\ncertainly be all swallowed up, for all the land is so near.\"\nI had conceived some hope that, if they saw land, we should be\ndelivered; and I told her she did not understand things of that nature;\nthat she might be sure if they saw land they would go directly towards\nit, and would make into some harbour; but it was, as Amy said, a\nfrightful distance to it. The land looked like clouds, and the sea went\nas high as mountains, so that no hope appeared in the seeing the land,\nbut we were in fear of foundering before we could reach it. This made\nAmy so desponding still; but as the wind, which blew from the east, or\nthat way, drove us furiously towards the land, so when, about\nhalf-an-hour after, I stepped to the steerage-door and looked out, I saw\nthe land much nearer than Amy represented it; so I went in and\nencouraged Amy again, and indeed was encouraged myself.\nIn about an hour, or something more, we saw, to our infinite\nsatisfaction, the open harbour of Harwich, and the vessel standing\ndirectly towards it, and in a few minutes more the ship was in smooth\nwater, to our inexpressible comfort; and thus I had, though against my\nwill and contrary to my true interest, what I wished for, to be driven\naway to England, though it was by a storm.\nNor did this incident do either Amy or me much service, for, the danger\nbeing over, the fears of death vanished with it; ay, and our fear of\nwhat was beyond death also. Our sense of the life we had lived went off,\nand with our return to life our wicked taste of life returned, and we\nwere both the same as before, if not worse. So certain is it that the\nrepentance which is brought about by the mere apprehensions of death\nwears off as those apprehensions wear off, and deathbed repentance, or\nstorm repentance, which is much the same, is seldom true.\nHowever, I do not tell you that this was all at once neither; the fright\nwe had at sea lasted a little while afterwards; at least the impression\nwas not quite blown off as soon as the storm; especially poor Amy. As\nsoon as she set her foot on shore she fell flat upon the ground and\nkissed it, and gave God thanks for her deliverance from the sea; and\nturning to me when she got up, \"I hope, madam,\" says she, \"you will\nnever go upon the sea again.\"\nI know not what ailed me, not I; but Amy was much more penitent at sea,\nand much more sensible of her deliverance when she landed and was safe,\nthan I was. I was in a kind of stupidity, I know not well what to call\nit; I had a mind full of horror in the time of the storm, and saw death\nbefore me as plainly as Amy, but my thoughts got no vent, as Amy's did.\nI had a silent, sullen kind of grief, which could not break out either\nin words or tears, and which was therefore much the worse to bear.\nI had a terror upon me for my wicked life past, and firmly believed I\nwas going to the bottom, launching into death, where I was to give an\naccount of all my past actions; and in this state, and on that account,\nI looked back upon my wickedness with abhorrence, as I have said above,\nbut I had no sense of repentance from the true motive of repentance; I\nsaw nothing of the corruption of nature, the sin of my life, as an\noffence against God, as a thing odious to the holiness of His being, as\nabusing His mercy and despising His goodness. In short, I had no\nthorough effectual repentance, no sight of my sins in their proper\nshape, no view of a Redeemer, or hope in Him. I had only such a\nrepentance as a criminal has at the place of execution, who is sorry,\nnot that he has committed the crime, as it is a crime, but sorry that he\nis to be hanged for it.\nIt is true Amy's repentance wore off too, as well as mine, but not so\nsoon. However, we were both very grave for a time.\nAs soon as we could get a boat from the town we went on shore, and\nimmediately went to a public-house in the town of Harwich, where we\nwere to consider seriously what was to be done, and whether we should go\nup to London or stay till the ship was refitted, which, they said, would\nbe a fortnight, and then go for Holland, as we intended, and as business\nrequired.\nReason directed that I should go to Holland, for there I had all my\nmoney to receive, and there I had persons of good reputation and\ncharacter to apply to, having letters to them from the honest Dutch\nmerchant at Paris, and they might perhaps give me a recommendation again\nto merchants in London, and so I should get acquaintance with some\npeople of figure, which was what I loved; whereas now I knew not one\ncreature in the whole city of London, or anywhere else, that I could go\nand make myself known to. Upon these considerations, I resolved to go to\nHolland, whatever came of it.\nBut Amy cried and trembled, and was ready to fall into fits, when I did\nbut mention going upon the sea again, and begged of me not to go, or if\nI would go, that I would leave her behind, though I was to send her\na-begging. The people in the inn laughed at her, and jested with her,\nasked her if she had any sins to confess that she was ashamed should be\nheard of, and that she was troubled with an evil conscience; told her,\nif she came to sea, and to be in a storm, if she had lain with her\nmaster, she would certainly tell her mistress of it, and that it was a\ncommon thing for poor maids to confess all the young men they had lain\nwith; that there was one poor girl that went over with her mistress,\nwhose husband was a ......r, in ......, in the city of London, who\nconfessed, in the terror of a storm, that she had lain with her master,\nand all the apprentices, so often, and in such-and-such places, and made\nthe poor mistress, when she returned to London, fly at her husband, and\nmake such a stir as was indeed the ruin of the whole family. Amy could\nbear all that well enough, for though she had indeed lain with her\nmaster, it was with her mistress's knowledge and consent, and, which was\nworse, was her mistress's own doing. I record it to the reproach of my\nown vice, and to expose the excesses of such wickedness as they deserve\nto be exposed.\nI thought Amy's fear would have been over by that time the ship would be\ngotten ready, but I found the girl was rather worse and worse; and when\nI came to the point that we must go on board or lose the passage, Amy\nwas so terrified that she fell into fits; so the ship went away without\nus.\nBut my going being absolutely necessary, as above, I was obliged to go\nin the packet-boat some time after, and leave Amy behind at Harwich, but\nwith directions to go to London and stay there to receive letters and\norders from me what to do. Now I was become, from a lady of pleasure, a\nwoman of business, and of great business too, I assure you.\nI got me a servant at Harwich to go over with me, who had been at\nRotterdam, knew the place, and spoke the language, which was a great\nhelp to me, and away I went. I had a very quick passage and pleasant\nweather, and, coming to Rotterdam, soon found out the merchant to whom I\nwas recommended, who received me with extraordinary respect. And first\nhe acknowledged the accepted bill for four thousand pistoles, which he\nafterwards paid punctually; other bills that I had also payable at\nAmsterdam he procured to be received for me; and whereas one of the\nbills for one thousand two hundred crowns was protested at Amsterdam, he\npaid it me himself, for the honour of the indorser, as he called it,\nwhich was my friend the merchant at Paris.\nThere I entered into a negotiation by his means for my jewels, and he\nbrought me several jewellers to look on them, and particularly one to\nvalue them, and to tell me what every particular was worth. This was a\nman who had great skill in jewels, but did not trade at that time, and\nhe was desired by the gentleman that I was with to see that I might not\nbe imposed upon.\nAll this work took me up near half a year, and by managing my business\nthus myself, and having large sums to do with, I became as expert in it\nas any she-merchant of them all. I had credit in the bank for a large\nsum of money, and bills and notes for much more.\nAfter I had been here about three months, my maid Amy writes me word\nthat she had received a letter from her friend, as she called him. That,\nby the way, was the prince's gentleman, that had been Amy's\nextraordinary friend indeed, for Amy owned to me he had lain with her a\nhundred times, that is to say, as often as he pleased, and perhaps in\nthe eight years which that affair lasted it might be a great deal\noftener. This was what she called her friend, who she corresponded with\nupon this particular subject, and, among other things, sent her this\nparticular news, that my extraordinary friend, my real husband, who rode\nin the _gens d'armes_, was dead, that he was killed in a rencounter, as\nthey call it, or accidental scuffle among the troopers; and so the jade\ncongratulated me upon my being now a real free woman. \"And now, madam,\"\nsays she at the end of her letter, \"you have nothing to do but to come\nhither and set up a coach and a good equipage, and if beauty and a good\nfortune won't make you a duchess, nothing will.\" But I had not fixed my\nmeasures yet. I had no inclination to be a wife again. I had had such\nbad luck with my first husband, I hated the thoughts of it. I found\nthat a wife is treated with indifference, a mistress with a strong\npassion; a wife is looked upon as but an upper servant, a mistress is a\nsovereign; a wife must give up all she has, have every reserve she makes\nfor herself be thought hard of, and be upbraided with her very\npin-money, whereas a mistress makes the saying true, that what the man\nhas is hers, and what she has is her own; the wife bears a thousand\ninsults, and is forced to sit still and bear it, or part, and be undone;\na mistress insulted helps herself immediately, and takes another.\nThese were my wicked arguments for whoring, for I never set against them\nthe difference another way--I may say, every other way; how that, first,\na wife appears boldly and honourably with her husband, lives at home,\nand possesses his house, his servants, his equipages, and has a right to\nthem all, and to call them her own; entertains his friends, owns his\nchildren, and has the return of duty and affection from them, as they\nare here her own, and claims upon his estate, by the custom of England,\nif he dies and leaves her a widow.\nThe whore skulks about in lodgings, is visited in the dark, disowned\nupon all occasions before God and man; is maintained, indeed, for a\ntime, but is certainly condemned to be abandoned at last, and left to\nthe miseries of fate and her own just disaster. If she has any\nchildren, her endeavour is to get rid of them, and not maintain them;\nand if she lives, she is certain to see them all hate her, and be\nashamed of her. While the vice rages, and the man is in the devil's\nhand, she has him; and while she has him, she makes a prey of him; but\nif he happens to fall sick, if any disaster befalls him, the cause of\nall lies upon her. He is sure to lay all his misfortunes at her door;\nand if once he comes to repentance, or makes but one step towards a\nreformation, he begins with her--leaves her, uses her as she deserves,\nhates her, abhors her, and sees her no more; and that with this\nnever-failing addition, namely, that the more sincere and unfeigned his\nrepentance is, the more earnestly he looks up, and the more effectually\nhe looks in, the more his aversion to her increases, and he curses her\nfrom the bottom of his soul; nay, it must be a kind of excess of charity\nif he so much as wishes God may forgive her.\nThe opposite circumstances of a wife and whore are such and so many, and\nI have since seen the difference with such eyes, as I could dwell upon\nthe subject a great while; but my business is history. I had a long\nscene of folly yet to run over. Perhaps the moral of all my story may\nbring me back again to this part, and if it does I shall speak of it\nfully.\nWhile I continued in Holland I received several letters from my friend\n(so I had good reason to call him) the merchant in Paris, in which he\ngave me a farther account of the conduct of that rogue the Jew, and how\nhe acted after I was gone; how impatient he was while the said merchant\nkept him in suspense, expecting me to come again; and how he raged when\nhe found I came no more.\nIt seems, after he found I did not come, he found out by his unwearied\ninquiry where I had lived, and that I had been kept as a mistress by\nsome great person; but he could never learn by who, except that he\nlearnt the colour of his livery. In pursuit of this inquiry he guessed\nat the right person, but could not make it out, or offer any positive\nproof of it; but he found out the prince's gentleman, and talked so\nsaucily to him of it that the gentleman treated him, as the French call\nit, _\u00e0 coup de baton_--that is to say, caned him very severely, as he\ndeserved; and that not satisfying him, or curing his insolence, he was\nmet one night late upon the Pont Neuf, in Paris, by two men, who,\nmuffling him up in a great cloak, carried him into a more private place\nand cut off both his ears, telling him it was for talking impudently of\nhis superiors; adding that he should take care to govern his tongue\nbetter and behave with more manners, or the next time they would cut his\ntongue out of his head.\nThis put a check to his sauciness that way; but he comes back to the\nmerchant and threatened to begin a process against him for corresponding\nwith me, and being accessory to the murder of the jeweller, &c.\nThe merchant found by his discourse that he supposed I was protected by\nthe said Prince de ----; nay, the rogue said he was sure I was in his\nlodgings at Versailles, for he never had so much as the least intimation\nof the way I was really gone; but that I was there he was certain, and\ncertain that the merchant was privy to it. The merchant bade him\ndefiance. However, he gave him a great deal of trouble and put him to a\ngreat charge, and had like to have brought him in for a party to my\nescape; in which case he would have been obliged to have produced me,\nand that in the penalty of some capital sum of money.\nBut the merchant was too many for him another way, for he brought an\ninformation against him for a cheat; wherein laying down the whole fact,\nhow he intended falsely to accuse the widow of the jeweller for the\nsupposed murder of her husband; that he did it purely to get the jewels\nfrom her; and that he offered to bring him (the merchant) in, to be\nconfederate with him, and to share the jewels between them; proving also\nhis design to get the jewels into his hands, and then to have dropped\nthe prosecution upon condition of my quitting the jewels to him. Upon\nthis charge he got him laid by the heels; so he was sent to the\nConciergerie--that is to say, to Bridewell--and the merchant cleared. He\ngot out of jail in a little while, though not without the help of money,\nand continued teasing the merchant a long while, and at last threatening\nto assassinate and murder him. So the merchant, who, having buried his\nwife about two months before, was now a single man, and not knowing what\nsuch a villain might do, thought fit to quit Paris, and came away to\nHolland also.\nIt is most certain that, speaking of originals, I was the source and\nspring of all that trouble and vexation to this honest gentleman; and as\nit was afterwards in my power to have made him full satisfaction, and\ndid not, I cannot say but I added ingratitude to all the rest of my\nfollies; but of that I shall give a fuller account presently.\nI was surprised one morning, when, being at the merchant's house who he\nhad recommended me to in Rotterdam, and being busy in his\ncounting-house, managing my bills, and preparing to write a letter to\nhim to Paris, I heard a noise of horses at the door, which is not very\ncommon in a city where everybody passes by water; but he had, it seems,\nferried over the Maas from Willemstadt, and so came to the very door,\nand I, looking towards the door upon hearing the horses, saw a gentleman\nalight and come in at the gate. I knew nothing, and expected nothing,\nto be sure, of the person; but, as I say, was surprised, and indeed more\nthan ordinarily surprised, when, coming nearer to me, I saw it was my\nmerchant of Paris, my benefactor, and indeed my deliverer.\nI confess it was an agreeable surprise to me, and I was exceeding glad\nto see him, who was so honourable and so kind to me, and who indeed had\nsaved my life. As soon as he saw me he ran to me, took me in his arms,\nand kissed me with a freedom that he never offered to take with me\nbefore. \"Dear Madam ----,\" says he, \"I am glad to see you safe in this\ncountry; if you had stayed two days longer in Paris you had been\nundone.\" I was so glad to see him that I could not speak a good while,\nand I burst out into tears without speaking a word for a minute; but I\nrecovered that disorder, and said, \"The more, sir, is my obligation to\nyou that saved my life;\" and added, \"I am glad to see you here, that I\nmay consider how to balance an account in which I am so much your\ndebtor.\" \"You and I will adjust that matter easily,\" says he, \"now we\nare so near together. Pray where do you lodge?\" says he.\n\"In a very honest, good house,\" said I, \"where that gentleman, your\nfriend, recommended me,\" pointing to the merchant in whose house we then\nwere.\n\"And where you may lodge too, sir,\" says the gentleman, \"if it suits\nwith your business and your other conveniency.\"\n\"With all my heart,\" says he. \"Then, madam,\" adds he, turning to me, \"I\nshall be near you, and have time to tell you a story which will be very\nlong, and yet many ways very pleasant to you; how troublesome that\ndevilish fellow, the Jew, has been to me on your account, and what a\nhellish snare he had laid for you, if he could have found you.\"\n\"I shall have leisure too, sir,\" said I, \"to tell you all my adventures\nsince that, which have not been a few, I assure you.\"\nIn short, he took up his lodgings in the same house where I lodged, and\nthe room he lay in opened, as he was wishing it would, just opposite to\nmy lodging-room, so we could almost call out of bed to one another; and\nI was not at all shy of him on that score, for I believed him perfectly\nhonest, and so indeed he was; and if he had not, that article was at\npresent no part of my concern.\nIt was not till two or three days, and after his first hurries of\nbusiness were over, that we began to enter into the history of our\naffairs on every side, but when we began, it took up all our\nconversation for almost a fortnight. First, I gave him a particular\naccount of everything that happened material upon my voyage, and how we\nwere driven into Harwich by a very terrible storm; how I had left my\nwoman behind me, so frighted with the danger she had been in that she\ndurst not venture to set her foot into a ship again any more, and that I\nhad not come myself if the bills I had of him had not been payable in\nHolland; but that money, he might see, would make a woman go anywhere.\nHe seemed to laugh at all our womanish fears upon the occasion of the\nstorm, telling me it was nothing but what was very ordinary in those\nseas, but that they had harbours on every coast so near that they were\nseldom in danger of being lost indeed. \"For,\" says he, \"if they cannot\nfetch one coast, they can always stand away for another, and run afore\nit,\" as he called it, \"for one side or other.\" But when I came to tell\nhim what a crazy ship it was, and how, even when they got into Harwich,\nand into smooth water, they were fain to run the ship on shore, or she\nwould have sunk in the very harbour; and when I told him that when I\nlooked out at the cabin-door I saw the Dutchmen, one upon his knees\nhere, and another there, at their prayers, then indeed he acknowledged I\nhad reason to be alarmed; but, smiling, he added, \"But you, madam,\" says\nhe, \"are so good a lady, and so pious, you would but have gone to heaven\na little the sooner; the difference had not been much to you.\"\nI confess when he said this it made all the blood turn in my veins, and\nI thought I should have fainted. \"Poor gentleman,\" thought I, \"you know\nlittle of me. What would I give to be really what you really think me to\nbe!\" He perceived the disorder, but said nothing till I spoke; when,\nshaking my head, \"Oh, sir!\" said I, \"death in any shape has some terror\nin it, but in the frightful figure of a storm at sea and a sinking ship,\nit comes with a double, a treble, and indeed an inexpressible horror;\nand if I were that saint you think me to be (which God knows I am not),\nit is still very dismal. I desire to die in a calm, if I can.\" He said a\ngreat many good things, and very prettily ordered his discourse between\nserious reflection and compliment, but I had too much guilt to relish it\nas it was meant, so I turned it off to something else, and talked of the\nnecessity I had on me to come to Holland, but I wished myself safe on\nshore in England again.\nHe told me he was glad I had such an obligation upon me to come over\ninto Holland, however, but hinted that he was so interested in my\nwelfare, and, besides, had such further designs upon me, that if I had\nnot so happily been found in Holland he was resolved to have gone to\nEngland to see me, and that it was one of the principal reasons of his\nleaving Paris.\nI told him I was extremely obliged to him for so far interesting himself\nin my affairs, but that I had been so far his debtor before that I knew\nnot how anything could increase the debt; for I owed my life to him\nalready, and I could not be in debt for anything more valuable than\nthat. He answered in the most obliging manner possible, that he would\nput it in my power to pay that debt, and all the obligations besides\nthat ever he had, or should be able to lay upon me.\nI began to understand him now, and to see plainly that he resolved to\nmake love to me, but I would by no means seem to take the hint; and,\nbesides, I knew that he had a wife with him in Paris; and I had, just\nthen at least, no gust to any more intriguing. However, he surprised me\ninto a sudden notice of the thing a little while after by saying\nsomething in his discourse that he did, as he said, in his wife's days.\nI started at that word, \"What mean you by that, sir?\" said I. \"Have you\nnot a wife at Paris?\" \"No, madam, indeed,\" said he; \"my wife died the\nbeginning of September last,\" which, it seems, was but a little after I\ncame away.\nWe lived in the same house all this while, and as we lodged not far off\nof one another, opportunities were not wanting of as near an\nacquaintance as we might desire; nor have such opportunities the least\nagency in vicious minds to bring to pass even what they might not intend\nat first.\nHowever, though he courted so much at a distance, yet his pretensions\nwere very honourable; and as I had before found him a most\ndisinterested friend, and perfectly honest in his dealings, even when I\ntrusted him with all I had, so now I found him strictly virtuous, till I\nmade him otherwise myself, even almost whether he would or no, as you\nshall hear.\nIt was not long after our former discourse, when he repeated what he had\ninsinuated before, namely, that he had yet a design to lay before me,\nwhich, if I would agree to his proposals, would more than balance all\naccounts between us. I told him I could not reasonably deny him\nanything; and except one thing, which I hoped and believed he would not\nthink of, I should think myself very ungrateful if I did not do\neverything for him that lay in my power.\nHe told me what he should desire of me would be fully in my power to\ngrant, or else he should be very unfriendly to offer it; and still all\nthis while he declined making the proposal, as he called it, and so for\nthat time we ended our discourse, turning it off to other things. So\nthat, in short, I began to think he might have met with some disaster in\nhis business, and might have come away from Paris in some discredit, or\nhad had some blow on his affairs in general; and as really I had\nkindness enough to have parted with a good sum to have helped him, and\nwas in gratitude bound to have done so, he having so effectually saved\nto me all I had, so I resolved to make him the offer the first time I\nhad an opportunity, which two or three days after offered itself, very\nmuch to my satisfaction.\nHe had told me at large, though on several occasions, the treatment he\nhad met with from the Jew, and what expense he had put him to; how at\nlength he had cast him, as above, and had recovered good damage of him,\nbut that the rogue was unable to make him any considerable reparation.\nHe had told me also how the Prince de ----'s gentleman had resented his\ntreatment of his master, and how he had caused him to be used upon the\nPont Neuf, &c., as I have mentioned above, which I laughed at most\nheartily.\n\"It is a pity,\" said I, \"that I should sit here and make that gentleman\nno amends; if you would direct me, sir,\" said I, \"how to do it, I would\nmake him a handsome present, and acknowledge the justice he had done to\nme, as well as to the prince, his master.\" He said he would do what I\ndirected in it; so I told him I would send him five hundred crowns.\n\"That's too much,\" said he, \"for you are but half interested in the\nusage of the Jew; it was on his master's account he corrected him, not\non yours.\" Well, however, we were obliged to do nothing in it, for\nneither of us knew how to direct a letter to him, or to direct anybody\nto him; so I told him I would leave it till I came to England, for that\nmy woman, Amy, corresponded with him, and that he had made love to her.\n\"Well, but, sir,\" said I, \"as, in requital for his generous concern for\nme, I am careful to think of him, it is but just that what expense you\nhave been obliged to be at, which was all on my account, should be\nrepaid you; and therefore,\" said I, \"let me see--.\" And there I paused,\nand began to reckon up what I had observed, from his own discourse, it\nhad cost him in the several disputes and hearings which he had with that\ndog of a Jew, and I cast them up at something above 2130 crowns; so I\npulled out some bills which I had upon a merchant in Amsterdam, and a\nparticular account in bank, and was looking on them in order to give\nthem to him; when he, seeing evidently what I was going about,\ninterrupted me with some warmth, and told me he would have nothing of me\non that account, and desired I would not pull out my bills and papers on\nthat score; that he had not told me the story on that account, or with\nany such view; that it had been his misfortune first to bring that ugly\nrogue to me, which, though it was with a good design, yet he would\npunish himself with the expense he had been at for his being so unlucky\nto me; that I could not think so hard of him as to suppose he would take\nmoney of me, a widow, for serving me, and doing acts of kindness to me\nin a strange country, and in distress too; but he said he would repeat\nwhat he had said before, that he kept me for a deeper reckoning, and\nthat, as he had told me, he would put me into a posture to even all that\nfavour, as I called it, at once, so we should talk it over another time,\nand balance all together.\nNow I expected it would come out, but still he put it off, as before,\nfrom whence I concluded it could not be matter of love, for that those\nthings are not usually delayed in such a manner, and therefore it must\nbe matter of money. Upon which thought I broke the silence, and told\nhim, that as he knew I had, by obligation, more kindness for him than to\ndeny any favour to him that I could grant, and that he seemed backward\nto mention his case, I begged leave of him to give me leave to ask him\nwhether anything lay upon his mind with respect to his business and\neffects in the world; that if it did, he knew what I had in the world as\nwell as I did, and that, if he wanted money, I would let him have any\nsum for his occasion, as far as five or six thousand pistoles, and he\nshould pay me as his own affairs would permit; and that, if he never\npaid me, I would assure him that I would never give him any trouble for\nit.\nHe rose up with ceremony, and gave me thanks in terms that sufficiently\ntold me he had been bred among people more polite and more courteous\nthan is esteemed the ordinary usage of the Dutch; and after his\ncompliment was over he came nearer to me, and told me he was obliged to\nassure me, though with repeated acknowledgments of my kind offer, that\nhe was not in any want of money; that he had met with no uneasiness in\nany of his affairs--no, not of any kind whatever, except that of the\nloss of his wife and one of his children, which indeed had troubled him\nmuch; but that this was no part of what he had to offer me, and by\ngranting which I should balance all obligations; but that, in short, it\nwas that, seeing Providence had (as it were for that purpose) taken his\nwife from him, I would make up the loss to him; and with that he held me\nfast in his arms, and, kissing me, would not give me leave to say no,\nand hardly to breathe.\nAt length, having got room to speak, I told him that, as I had said\nbefore, I could deny him but one thing in the world; I was very sorry he\nshould propose that thing only that I could not grant.\nI could not but smile, however, to myself that he should make so many\ncircles and roundabout motions to come at a discourse which had no such\nrarity at the bottom of it, if he had known all. But there was another\nreason why I resolved not to have him, when, at the same time, if he had\ncourted me in a manner less honest or virtuous, I believe I should not\nhave denied him; but I shall come to that part presently.\nHe was, as I have said, long a-bringing it out, but when he had brought\nit out he pursued it with such importunities as would admit of no\ndenial; at least he intended they should not; but I resisted them\nobstinately, and yet with expressions of the utmost kindness and respect\nfor him that could be imagined, often telling him there was nothing else\nin the world that I could deny him, and showing him all the respect, and\nupon all occasions treating him with intimacy and freedom, as if he had\nbeen my brother.\nHe tried all the ways imaginable to bring his design to pass, but I was\ninflexible. At last he thought of a way which, he flattered himself,\nwould not fail; nor would he have been mistaken, perhaps, in any other\nwoman in the world but me. This was, to try if he could take me at an\nadvantage and get to bed to me, and then, as was most rational to think,\nI should willingly enough marry him afterwards.\nWe were so intimate together that nothing but man and wife could, or at\nleast ought, to be more; but still our freedoms kept within the bounds\nof modesty and decency. But one evening, above all the rest, we were\nvery merry, and I fancied he pushed the mirth to watch for his\nadvantage, and I resolved that I would at least feign to be as merry as\nhe; and that, in short, if he offered anything he should have his will\neasily enough.\nAbout one o'clock in the morning--for so long we sat up together--I\nsaid, \"Come, 'tis one o'clock; I must go to bed.\" \"Well,\" says he, \"I'll\ngo with you.\" \"No, no;\" says I; \"go to your own chamber.\" He said he\nwould go to bed with me. \"Nay,\" says I, \"if you will, I don't know what\nto say; if I can't help it, you must.\" However, I got from him, left\nhim, and went into my chamber, but did not shut the door, and as he\ncould easily see that I was undressing myself, he steps to his own room,\nwhich was but on the same floor, and in a few minutes undresses himself\nalso, and returns to my door in his gown and slippers.\nI thought he had been gone indeed, and so that he had been in jest; and,\nby the way, thought either he had no mind to the thing, or that he never\nintended it; so I shut my door--that is, latched it, for I seldom locked\nor bolted it--and went to bed. I had not been in bed a minute but he\ncomes in his gown to the door and opens it a little way, but not enough\nto come in or look in, and says softly, \"What! are you really gone to\nbed?\" \"Yes, yes,\" says I; \"get you gone.\" \"No, indeed,\" says he, \"I\nshall not be gone; you gave me leave before to come to bed, and you\nshan't say 'Get you gone' now.\" So he comes into my room, and then\nturns about and fastens the door, and immediately comes to the bedside\nto me. I pretended to scold and struggle, and bid him begone with more\nwarmth than before; but it was all one; he had not a rag of clothes on\nbut his gown and slippers and shirt, so he throws off his gown, and\nthrows open the bed, and came in at once.\nI made a seeming resistance, but it was no more indeed; for, as above, I\nresolved from the beginning he should lie with me if he would, and, for\nthe rest, I left it to come after.\nWell, he lay with me that night, and the two next, and very merry we\nwere all the three days between; but the third night he began to be a\nlittle more grave. \"Now, my dear,\" says he, \"though I have pushed this\nmatter farther than ever I intended, or than I believe you expected from\nme, who never made any pretences to you but what were very honest, yet\nto heal it all up, and let you see how sincerely I meant at first, and\nhow honest I will ever be to you, I am ready to marry you still, and\ndesire you to let it be done to-morrow morning; and I will give you the\nsame fair conditions of marriage as I would have done before.\"\nThis, it must be owned, was a testimony that he was very honest, and\nthat he loved me sincerely; but I construed it quite another way,\nnamely, that he aimed at the money. But how surprised did he look, and\nhow was he confounded, when he found me receive his proposal with\ncoldness and indifference, and still tell him that it was the only thing\nI could not grant!\nHe was astonished. \"What! not take me now,\" says he, \"when I have been\nabed with you!\" I answered coldly, though respectfully still, \"It is\ntrue, to my shame be it spoken,\" says I, \"that you have taken me by\nsurprise, and have had your will of me; but I hope you will not take it\nill that I cannot consent to marry for all that. If I am with child,\"\nsaid I, \"care must be taken to manage that as you shall direct; I hope\nyou won't expose me for my having exposed myself to you, but I cannot go\nany farther.\" And at that point I stood, and would hear of no matrimony\nby any means.\nNow, because this may seem a little odd, I shall state the matter\nclearly, as I understood it myself. I knew that, while I was a mistress,\nit is customary for the person kept to receive from them that keep; but\nif I should be a wife, all I had then was given up to the husband, and I\nwas henceforth to be under his authority only; and as I had money\nenough, and needed not fear being what they call a cast-off mistress, so\nI had no need to give him twenty thousand pounds to marry me, which had\nbeen buying my lodging too dear a great deal.\nThus his project of coming to bed to me was a bite upon himself, while\nhe intended it for a bite upon me; and he was no nearer his aim of\nmarrying me than he was before. All his arguments he could urge upon the\nsubject of matrimony were at an end, for I positively declined marrying\nhim; and as he had refused the thousand pistoles which I had offered him\nin compensation for his expenses and loss at Paris with the Jew, and had\ndone it upon the hopes he had of marrying me, so when he found his way\ndifficult still, he was amazed, and, I had some reason to believe,\nrepented that he had refused the money.\nBut thus it is when men run into wicked measures to bring their designs\nabout. I, that was infinitely obliged to him before, began to talk to\nhim as if I had balanced accounts with him now, and that the favour of\nlying with a whore was equal, not to the thousand pistoles only, but to\nall the debt I owed him for saving my life and all my effects.\nBut he drew himself into it, and though it was a dear bargain, yet it\nwas a bargain of his own making; he could not say I had tricked him into\nit. But as he projected and drew me in to lie with him, depending that\nwas a sure game in order to a marriage, so I granted him the favour, as\nhe called it, to balance the account of favours received from him, and\nkeep the thousand pistoles with a good grace.\nHe was extremely disappointed in this article, and knew not how to\nmanage for a great while; and as I dare say, if he had not expected to\nhave made it an earnest for marrying me, he would not have attempted me\nthe other way, so, I believed, if it had not been for the money which he\nknew I had, he would never have desired to marry me after he had lain\nwith me. For where is the man that cares to marry a whore, though of his\nown making? And as I knew him to be no fool, so I did him no wrong when\nI supposed that, but for the money, he would not have had any thoughts\nof me that way, especially after my yielding as I had done; in which it\nis to be remembered that I made no capitulation for marrying him when I\nyielded to him, but let him do just what he pleased, without any\nprevious bargain.\nWell, hitherto we went upon guesses at one another's designs; but as he\ncontinued to importune me to marry, though he had lain with me, and\nstill did lie with me as often as he pleased, and I continued to refuse\nto marry him, though I let him lie with me whenever he desired it; I\nsay, as these two circumstances made up our conversation, it could not\ncontinue long thus, but we must come to an explanation.\nOne morning, in the middle of our unlawful freedoms--that is to say,\nwhen we were in bed together--he sighed, and told me he desired my\nleave to ask me one question, and that I would give him an answer to it\nwith the same ingenious freedom and honesty that I had used to treat him\nwith. I told him I would. Why, then, his question was, why I would not\nmarry him, seeing I allowed him all the freedom of a husband. \"Or,\" says\nhe, \"my dear, since you have been so kind as to take me to your bed, why\nwill you not make me your own, and take me for good and all, that we may\nenjoy ourselves without any reproach to one another?\"\nI told him, that as I confessed it was the only thing I could not comply\nwith him in, so it was the only thing in all my actions that I could not\ngive him a reason for; that it was true I had let him come to bed to me,\nwhich was supposed to be the greatest favour a woman could grant; but it\nwas evident, and he might see it, that, as I was sensible of the\nobligation I was under to him for saving me from the worst circumstance\nit was possible for me to be brought to, I could deny him nothing; and\nif I had had any greater favour to yield him, I should have done it,\nthat of matrimony only excepted, and he could not but see that I loved\nhim to an extraordinary degree, in every part of my behaviour to him;\nbut that as to marrying, which was giving up my liberty, it was what\nonce he knew I had done, and he had seen how it had hurried me up and\ndown in the world, and what it had exposed me to; that I had an aversion\nto it, and desired he would not insist upon it. He might easily see I\nhad no aversion to him; and that, if I was with child by him, he should\nsee a testimony of my kindness to the father, for that I would settle\nall I had in the world upon the child.\nHe was mute a good while. At last says he, \"Come, my dear, you are the\nfirst woman in the world that ever lay with a man and then refused to\nmarry him, and therefore there must be some other reason for your\nrefusal; and I have therefore one other request, and that is, if I guess\nat the true reason, and remove the objection, will you then yield to\nme?\" I told him if he removed the objection I must needs comply, for I\nshould certainly do everything that I had no objection against.\n\"Why then, my dear, it must be that either you are already engaged or\nmarried to some other man, or you are not willing to dispose of your\nmoney to me, and expect to advance yourself higher with your fortune.\nNow, if it be the first of these, my mouth will be stopped, and I have\nno more to say; but if it be the last, I am prepared effectually to\nremove the objection, and answer all you can say on that subject.\"\nI took him up short at the first of these, telling him he must have base\nthoughts of me indeed, to think that I could yield to him in such a\nmanner as I had done, and continue it with so much freedom as he found I\ndid, if I had a husband or were engaged to any other man; and that he\nmight depend upon it that was not my case, nor any part of my case.\n\"Why then,\" said he, \"as to the other, I have an offer to make to you\nthat shall take off all the objection, viz., that I will not touch one\npistole of your estate more than shall be with your own voluntary\nconsent, neither now or at any other time, but you shall settle it as\nyou please for your life, and upon who you please after your death;\"\nthat I should see he was able to maintain me without it, and that it was\nnot for that that he followed me from Paris.\nI was indeed surprised at that part of his offer, and he might easily\nperceive it; it was not only what I did not expect, but it was what I\nknew not what answer to make to. He had, indeed, removed my principal\nobjection--nay, all my objections, and it was not possible for me to\ngive any answer; for, if upon so generous an offer I should agree with\nhim, I then did as good as confess that it was upon the account of my\nmoney that I refused him; and that though I could give up my virtue and\nexpose myself, yet I would not give up my money, which, though it was\ntrue, yet was really too gross for me to acknowledge, and I could not\npretend to marry him upon that principle neither. Then as to having\nhim, and make over all my estate out of his hands, so as not to give him\nthe management of what I had, I thought it would be not only a little\nGothic and inhuman, but would be always a foundation of unkindness\nbetween us, and render us suspected one to another; so that, upon the\nwhole, I was obliged to give a new turn to it, and talk upon a kind of\nan elevated strain, which really was not in my thoughts, at first, at\nall; for I own, as above, the divesting myself of my estate and putting\nmy money out of my hand was the sum of the matter that made me refuse to\nmarry; but, I say, I gave it a new turn upon this occasion, as\nfollows:--\nI told him I had, perhaps, different notions of matrimony from what the\nreceived custom had given us of it; that I thought a woman was a free\nagent as well as a man, and was born free, and, could she manage herself\nsuitably, might enjoy that liberty to as much purpose as the men do;\nthat the laws of matrimony were indeed otherwise, and mankind at this\ntime acted quite upon other principles, and those such that a woman gave\nherself entirely away from herself, in marriage, and capitulated, only\nto be, at best, but an upper servant, and from the time she took the man\nshe was no better or worse than the servant among the Israelites, who\nhad his ears bored--that is, nailed to the door-post--who by that act\ngave himself up to be a servant during life; that the very nature of the\nmarriage contract was, in short, nothing but giving up liberty, estate,\nauthority, and everything to the man, and the woman was indeed a mere\nwoman ever after--that is to say, a slave.\nHe replied, that though in some respects it was as I had said, yet I\nought to consider that, as an equivalent to this, the man had all the\ncare of things devolved upon him; that the weight of business lay upon\nhis shoulders, and as he had the trust, so he had the toil of life upon\nhim; his was the labour, his the anxiety of living; that the woman had\nnothing to do but to eat the fat and drink the sweet; to sit still and\nlook around her, be waited on and made much of, be served and loved and\nmade easy, especially if the husband acted as became him; and that, in\ngeneral, the labour of the man was appointed to make the woman live\nquiet and unconcerned in the world; that they had the name of subjection\nwithout the thing; and if in inferior families they had the drudgery of\nthe house and care of the provisions upon them, yet they had indeed much\nthe easier part; for, in general, the women had only the care of\nmanaging--that is, spending what their husbands get; and that a woman\nhad the name of subjection, indeed, but that they generally commanded,\nnot the men only, but all they had; managed all for themselves; and\nwhere the man did his duty, the woman's life was all ease and\ntranquillity, and that she had nothing to do but to be easy, and to make\nall that were about her both easy and merry.\nI returned, that while a woman was single, she was a masculine in her\npolitic capacity; that she had then the full command of what she had,\nand the full direction of what she did; that she was a man in her\nseparate capacity, to all intents and purposes that a man could be so to\nhimself; that she was controlled by none, because accountable to none,\nand was in subjection to none. So I sung these two lines of Mr. ----'s:--\n    \"Oh! 'tis pleasant to be free,\n    The sweetest Miss is Liberty.\"\nI added, that whoever the woman was that had an estate, and would give\nit up to be the slave of a great man, that woman was a fool, and must be\nfit for nothing but a beggar; that it was my opinion a woman was as fit\nto govern and enjoy her own estate without a man as a man was without a\nwoman; and that, if she had a mind to gratify herself as to sexes, she\nmight entertain a man as a man does a mistress; that while she was thus\nsingle she was her own, and if she gave away that power she merited to\nbe as miserable as it was possible that any creature could be.\nAll he could say could not answer the force of this as to argument;\nonly this, that the other way was the ordinary method that the world was\nguided by; that he had reason to expect I should be content with that\nwhich all the world was contented with; that he was of the opinion that\na sincere affection between a man and his wife answered all the\nobjections that I had made about the being a slave, a servant, and the\nlike; and where there was a mutual love there could be no bondage, but\nthat there was but one interest, one aim, one design, and all conspired\nto make both very happy.\n\"Ay,\" said I, \"that is the thing I complain of. The pretence of\naffection takes from a woman everything that can be called herself; she\nis to have no interest, no aim, no view; but all is the interest, aim,\nand view of the husband; she is to be the passive creature you spoke\nof,\" said I. \"She is to lead a life of perfect indolence, and living by\nfaith, not in God, but in her husband, she sinks or swims, as he is\neither fool or wise man, unhappy or prosperous; and in the middle of\nwhat she thinks is her happiness and prosperity, she is engulfed in\nmisery and beggary, which she had not the least notice, knowledge, or\nsuspicion of. How often have I seen a woman living in all the splendour\nthat a plentiful fortune ought to allow her, with her coaches and\nequipages, her family and rich furniture, her attendants and friends,\nher visitors and good company, all about her to-day; to-morrow\nsurprised with a disaster, turned out of all by a commission of\nbankrupt, stripped to the clothes on her back; her jointure, suppose she\nhad it, is sacrificed to the creditors so long as her husband lived, and\nshe turned into the street, and left to live on the charity of her\nfriends, if she has any, or follow the monarch, her husband, into the\nMint, and live there on the wreck of his fortunes, till he is forced to\nrun away from her even there; and then she sees her children starve,\nherself miserable, breaks her heart, and cries herself to death! This,\"\nsays I, \"is the state of many a lady that has had \u00a310,000 to her\nportion.\"\nHe did not know how feelingly I spoke this, and what extremities I had\ngone through of this kind; how near I was to the very last article\nabove, viz., crying myself to death; and how I really starved for almost\ntwo years together.\nBut he shook his head, and said, where had I lived? and what dreadful\nfamilies had I lived among, that had frighted me into such terrible\napprehensions of things? that these things indeed might happen where men\nrun into hazardous things in trade, and, without prudence or due\nconsideration, launched their fortunes in a degree beyond their\nstrength, grasping at adventures beyond their stocks, and the like; but\nthat, as he was stated in the world, if I would embark with him, he had\na fortune equal with mine; that together we should have no occasion of\nengaging in business any more, but that in any part of the world where I\nhad a mind to live, whether England, France, Holland, or where I would,\nwe might settle, and live as happily as the world could make any one\nlive; that if I desired the management of our estate, when put together,\nif I would not trust him with mine, he would trust me with his; that we\nwould be upon one bottom, and I should steer. \"Ay,\" says I, \"you'll\nallow me to steer--that is, hold the helm--but you'll con the ship, as\nthey call it; that is, as at sea, a boy serves to stand at the helm, but\nhe that gives him the orders is pilot.\"\nHe laughed at my simile. \"No,\" says he; \"you shall be pilot then; you\nshall con the ship.\" \"Ay,\" says I, \"as long as you please; but you can\ntake the helm out of my hand when you please, and bid me go spin. It is\nnot you,\" says I, \"that I suspect, but the laws of matrimony puts the\npower into your hands, bids you do it, commands you to command, and\nbinds me, forsooth, to obey. You, that are now upon even terms with me,\nand I with you,\" says I, \"are the next hour set up upon the throne, and\nthe humble wife placed at your footstool; all the rest, all that you\ncall oneness of interest, mutual affection, and the like, is courtesy\nand kindness then, and a woman is indeed infinitely obliged where she\nmeets with it, but can't help herself where it fails.\"\nWell, he did not give it over yet, but came to the serious part, and\nthere he thought he should be too many for me. He first hinted that\nmarriage was decreed by Heaven; that it was the fixed state of life,\nwhich God had appointed for man's felicity, and for establishing a legal\nposterity; that there could be no legal claim of estates by inheritance\nbut by children born in wedlock; that all the rest was sunk under\nscandal and illegitimacy; and very well he talked upon that subject\nindeed.\nBut it would not do; I took him short there. \"Look you, sir,\" said I,\n\"you have an advantage of me there indeed, in my particular case, but it\nwould not be generous to make use of it. I readily grant that it were\nbetter for me to have married you than to admit you to the liberty I\nhave given you, but as I could not reconcile my judgment to marriage,\nfor the reasons above, and had kindness enough for you, and obligation\ntoo much on me to resist you, I suffered your rudeness and gave up my\nvirtue. But I have two things before me to heal up that breach of honour\nwithout that desperate one of marriage, and those are, repentance for\nwhat is past, and putting an end to it for time to come.\"\nHe seemed to be concerned to think that I should take him in that\nmanner. He assured me that I misunderstood him; that he had more manners\nas well as more kindness for me, and more justice than to reproach me\nwith what he had been the aggressor in, and had surprised me into; that\nwhat he spoke referred to my words above, that the woman, if she thought\nfit, might entertain a man, as a man did a mistress; and that I seemed\nto mention that way of living as justifiable, and setting it as a lawful\nthing, and in the place of matrimony.\nWell, we strained some compliments upon those points, not worth\nrepeating; and I added, I supposed when he got to bed to me he thought\nhimself sure of me; and, indeed, in the ordinary course of things, after\nhe had lain with me he ought to think so, but that, upon the same foot\nof argument which I had discoursed with him upon, it was just the\ncontrary; and when a woman had been weak enough to yield up the last\npoint before wedlock, it would be adding one weakness to another to take\nthe man afterwards, to pin down the shame of it upon herself all the\ndays of her life, and bind herself to live all her time with the only\nman that could upbraid her with it; that in yielding at first, she must\nbe a fool, but to take the man is to be sure to be called fool; that to\nresist a man is to act with courage and vigour, and to cast off the\nreproach, which, in the course of things, drops out of knowledge and\ndies. The man goes one way and the woman another, as fate and the\ncircumstances of living direct; and if they keep one another's counsel,\nthe folly is heard no more of. \"But to take the man,\" says I, \"is the\nmost preposterous thing in nature, and (saving your presence) is to\nbefoul one's self, and live always in the smell of it. No, no,\" added I;\n\"after a man has lain with me as a mistress, he ought never to lie with\nme as a wife. That's not only preserving the crime in memory, but it is\nrecording it in the family. If the woman marries the man afterwards, she\nbears the reproach of it to the last hour. If her husband is not a man\nof a hundred thousand, he some time or other upbraids her with it. If he\nhas children, they fail not one way or other to hear of it. If the\nchildren are virtuous, they do their mother the justice to hate her for\nit; if they are wicked, they give her the mortification of doing the\nlike, and giving her for the example. On the other hand, if the man and\nthe woman part, there is an end of the crime and an end of the clamour;\ntime wears out the memory of it, or a woman may remove but a few\nstreets, and she soon outlives it, and hears no more of it.\"\nHe was confounded at this discourse, and told me he could not say but I\nwas right in the main. That as to that part relating to managing\nestates, it was arguing _\u00e0 la cavalier_; it was in some sense right, if\nthe women were able to carry it on so, but that in general the sex were\nnot capable of it; their heads were not turned for it, and they had\nbetter choose a person capable and honest, that knew how to do them\njustice as women, as well as to love them; and that then the trouble was\nall taken off of their hands.\nI told him it was a dear way of purchasing their ease, for very often\nwhen the trouble was taken off of their hands, so was their money too;\nand that I thought it was far safer for the sex not to be afraid of the\ntrouble, but to be really afraid of their money; that if nobody was\ntrusted, nobody would be deceived, and the staff in their own hands was\nthe best security in the world.\nHe replied, that I had started a new thing in the world; that however I\nmight support it by subtle reasoning, yet it was a way of arguing that\nwas contrary to the general practice, and that he confessed he was much\ndisappointed in it; that, had he known I would have made such a use of\nit, he would never have attempted what he did, which he had no wicked\ndesign in, resolving to make me reparation, and that he was very sorry\nhe had been so unhappy; that he was very sure he should never upbraid me\nwith it hereafter, and had so good an opinion of me as to believe I did\nnot suspect him; but seeing I was positive in refusing him,\nnotwithstanding what had passed, he had nothing to do but secure me from\nreproach by going back again to Paris, that so, according to my own way\nof arguing, it might die out of memory, and I might never meet with it\nagain to my disadvantage.\nI was not pleased with this part at all, for I had no mind to let him go\nneither, and yet I had no mind to give him such hold of me as he would\nhave had; and thus I was in a kind of suspense, irresolute, and doubtful\nwhat course to take.\nI was in the house with him, as I have observed, and I saw evidently\nthat he was preparing to go back to Paris; and particularly I found he\nwas remitting money to Paris, which was, as I understood afterwards, to\npay for some wines which he had given order to have bought for him at\nTroyes, in Champagne, and I knew not what course to take; and, besides\nthat, I was very loth to part with him. I found also that I was with\nchild by him, which was what I had not yet told him of, and sometimes I\nthought not to tell him of it at all; but I was in a strange place, and\nhad no acquaintance, though I had a great deal of substance, which\nindeed, having no friends there, was the more dangerous to me.\nThis obliged me to take him one morning when I saw him, as I thought, a\nlittle anxious about his going, and irresolute. Says I to him, \"I fancy\nyou can hardly find in your heart to leave me now.\" \"The more unkind is\nit in you,\" said he, \"severely unkind, to refuse a man that knows not\nhow to part with you.\"\n\"I am so far from being unkind to you,\" said I, \"that I will go over all\nthe world with you if you desire me to, except to Paris, where you know\nI can't go.\"\n\"It is a pity so much love,\" said he, \"on both sides should ever\nseparate.\"\n\"Why, then,\" said I, \"do you go away from me?\"\n\"Because,\" said he, \"you won't take me.\"\n\"But if I won't take you,\" said I, \"you may take me anywhere but to\nParis.\"\nHe was very loth to go anywhere, he said, without me, but he must go to\nParis or the East Indies.\nI told him I did not use to court, but I durst venture myself to the\nEast Indies with him, if there was a necessity of his going.\nHe told me, God be thanked he was in no necessity of going anywhere, but\nthat he had a tempting invitation to go to the Indies.\nI answered, I would say nothing to that, but that I desired he would go\nanywhere but to Paris, because there he knew I must not go.\nHe said he had no remedy but to go where I could not go, for he could\nnot bear to see me if he must not have me.\nI told him that was the unkindest thing he could say of me, and that I\nought to take it very ill, seeing I knew how very well to oblige him to\nstay, without yielding to what he knew I could not yield to.\nThis amazed him, and he told me I was pleased to be mysterious, but that\nhe was sure it was in nobody's power to hinder him going, if he\nresolved upon it, except me, who had influence enough upon him to make\nhim do anything.\nYes, I told him, I could hinder him, because I knew he could no more do\nan unkind thing by me than he could do an unjust one; and to put him out\nof his pain, I told him I was with child.\nHe came to me, and taking me in his arms and kissing me a thousand times\nalmost, said, why would I be so unkind not to tell him that before?\nI told him 'twas hard, that to have him stay, I should be forced to do\nas criminals do to avoid the gallows, plead my belly; and that I thought\nI had given him testimonies enough of an affection equal to that of a\nwife, if I had not only lain with him, been with child by him, shown\nmyself unwilling to part with him, but offered to go to the East Indies\nwith him; and except one thing that I could not grant, what could he ask\nmore?\nHe stood mute a good while, but afterwards told me he had a great deal\nmore to say if I could assure him that I would not take ill whatever\nfreedom he might use with me in his discourse.\nI told him he might use any freedom in words with me; for a woman who\nhad given leave to such other freedoms as I had done had left herself no\nroom to take anything ill, let it be what it would.\n\"Why, then,\" he said, \"I hope you believe, madam, I was born a\nChristian, and that I have some sense of sacred things upon my mind.\nWhen I first broke in upon my own virtue and assaulted yours; when I\nsurprised and, as it were, forced you to that which neither you intended\nor I designed but a few hours before, it was upon a presumption that you\nwould certainly marry me, if once I could go that length with you, and\nit was with an honest resolution to make you my wife.\n\"But I have been surprised with such a denial that no woman in such\ncircumstances ever gave to a man; for certainly it was never known that\nany woman refused to marry a man that had first lain with her, much less\na man that had gotten her with child. But you go upon different notions\nfrom all the world, and though you reason upon it so strongly that a man\nknows hardly what to answer, yet I must own there is something in it\nshocking to nature, and something very unkind to yourself. But, above\nall, it is unkind to the child that is yet unborn, who, if we marry,\nwill come into the world with advantage enough, but if not, is ruined\nbefore it is born; must bear the eternal reproach of what it is not\nguilty of; must be branded from its cradle with a mark of infamy, be\nloaded with the crimes and follies of its parents, and suffer for sins\nthat it never committed. This I take to be very hard, and, indeed, cruel\nto the poor infant not yet born, who you cannot think of with any\npatience, if you have the common affection of a mother, and not do that\nfor it which should at once place it on a level with the rest of the\nworld, and not leave it to curse its parents for what also we ought to\nbe ashamed of. I cannot, therefore,\" says he, \"but beg and entreat you,\nas you are a Christian and a mother, not to let the innocent lamb you go\nwith be ruined before it is born, and leave it to curse and reproach us\nhereafter for what may be so easily avoided.\n\"Then, dear madam,\" said he, with a world of tenderness (and I thought I\nsaw tears in his eyes), \"allow me to repeat it, that I am a Christian,\nand consequently I do not allow what I have rashly, and without due\nconsideration, done; I say, I do not approve of it as lawful, and\ntherefore, though I did, with the view I have mentioned, one\nunjustifiable action, I cannot say that I could satisfy myself to live\nin a continual practice of what in judgment we must both condemn; and\nthough I love you above all the women in the world, and have done enough\nto convince you of it by resolving to marry you after what has passed\nbetween us, and by offering to quit all pretensions to any part of your\nestate, so that I should, as it were, take a wife after I had lain with\nher, and without a farthing portion, which, as my circumstances are, I\nneed not do; I say, notwithstanding my affection to you, which is\ninexpressible, yet I cannot give up soul as well as body, the interest\nof this world and the hopes of another; and you cannot call this my\ndisrespect to you.\"\nIf ever any man in the world was truly valuable for the strictest\nhonesty of intention, this was the man; and if ever woman in her senses\nrejected a man of merit on so trivial and frivolous a pretence, I was\nthe woman; but surely it was the most preposterous thing that ever woman\ndid.\nHe would have taken me as a wife, but would not entertain me as a whore.\nWas ever woman angry with any gentleman on that head? And was ever woman\nso stupid to choose to be a whore, where she might have been an honest\nwife? But infatuations are next to being possessed of the devil. I was\ninflexible, and pretended to argue upon the point of a woman's liberty\nas before, but he took me short, and with more warmth than he had yet\nused with me, though with the utmost respect, replied, \"Dear madam, you\nargue for liberty, at the same time that you restrain yourself from that\nliberty which God and nature has directed you to take, and, to supply\nthe deficiency, propose a vicious liberty, which is neither honourable\nor religious. Will you propose liberty at the expense of modesty?\"\nI returned, that he mistook me; I did not propose it; I only said that\nthose that could not be content without concerning the sexes in that\naffair might do so indeed; might entertain a man as men do a mistress,\nif they thought fit, but he did not hear me say I would do so; and\nthough, by what had passed, he might well censure me in that part, yet\nhe should find, for the future, that I should freely converse with him\nwithout any inclination that way.\nHe told me he could not promise that for himself, and thought he ought\nnot to trust himself with the opportunity, for that, as he had failed\nalready, he was loth to lead himself into the temptation of offending\nagain, and that this was the true reason of his resolving to go back to\nParis; not that he could willingly leave me, and would be very far from\nwanting my invitation; but if he could not stay upon terms that became\nhim, either as an honest man or a Christian, what could he do? And he\nhoped, he said, I could not blame him that he was unwilling anything\nthat was to call him father should upbraid him with leaving him in the\nworld to be called bastard; adding that he was astonished to think how I\ncould satisfy myself to be so cruel to an innocent infant not yet born;\nprofessed he could neither bear the thoughts of it, much less bear to\nsee it, and hoped I would not take it ill that he could not stay to see\nme delivered, for that very reason.\nI saw he spoke this with a disturbed mind, and that it was with some\ndifficulty that he restrained his passion, so I declined any farther\ndiscourse upon it; only said I hoped he would consider of it. \"Oh,\nmadam!\" says he, \"do not bid me consider; 'tis for you to consider;\" and\nwith that he went out of the room, in a strange kind of confusion, as\nwas easy to be seen in his countenance.\nIf I had not been one of the foolishest as well as wickedest creatures\nupon earth, I could never have acted thus. I had one of the honestest,\ncompletest gentlemen upon earth at my hand. He had in one sense saved my\nlife, but he had saved that life from ruin in a most remarkable manner.\nHe loved me even to distraction, and had come from Paris to Rotterdam on\npurpose to seek me. He had offered me marriage even after I was with\nchild by him, and had offered to quit all his pretensions to my estate,\nand give it up to my own management, having a plentiful estate of his\nown. Here I might have settled myself out of the reach even of disaster\nitself; his estate and mine would have purchased even then above two\nthousand pounds a year, and I might have lived like a queen--nay, far\nmore happy than a queen; and, which was above all, I had now an\nopportunity to have quitted a life of crime and debauchery, which I had\nbeen given up to for several years, and to have sat down quiet in plenty\nand honour, and to have set myself apart to the great work which I have\nsince seen so much necessity of and occasion for--I mean that of\nrepentance.\nBut my measure of wickedness was not yet full. I continued obstinate\nagainst matrimony, and yet I could not bear the thoughts of his going\naway neither. As to the child, I was not very anxious about it. I told\nhim I would promise him it should never come to him to upbraid him with\nits being illegitimate; that if it was a boy, I would breed it up like\nthe son of a gentleman, and use it well for his sake; and after a little\nmore such talk as this, and seeing him resolved to go, I retired, but\ncould not help letting him see the tears run down my cheeks. He came to\nme and kissed me, entreated me, conjured me by the kindness he had shown\nme in my distress, by the justice he had done me in my bills and money\naffairs, by the respect which made him refuse a thousand pistoles from\nme for his expenses with that traitor the Jew, by the pledge of our\nmisfortunes--so he called it--which I carried with me, and by all that\nthe sincerest affection could propose to do, that I would not drive him\naway.\nBut it would not do. I was stupid and senseless, deaf to all his\nimportunities, and continued so to the last. So we parted, only desiring\nme to promise that I would write him word when I was delivered, and how\nhe might give me an answer; and this I engaged my word I would do. And\nupon his desiring to be informed which way I intended to dispose of\nmyself, I told him I resolved to go directly to England, and to London,\nwhere I proposed to lie in; but since he resolved to leave me, I told\nhim I supposed it would be of no consequence to him what became of me.\nHe lay in his lodgings that night, but went away early in the morning,\nleaving me a letter in which he repeated all he had said, recommended\nthe care of the child, and desired of me that as he had remitted to me\nthe offer of a thousand pistoles which I would have given him for the\nrecompense of his charges and trouble with the Jew, and had given it me\nback, so he desired I would allow him to oblige me to set apart that\nthousand pistoles, with its improvement, for the child, and for its\neducation; earnestly pressing me to secure that little portion for the\nabandoned orphan when I should think fit, as he was sure I would, to\nthrow away the rest upon something as worthless as my sincere friend at\nParis. He concluded with moving me to reflect, with the same regret as\nhe did, on our follies we had committed together; asked me forgiveness\nfor being the aggressor in the fact, and forgave me everything, he said,\nbut the cruelty of refusing him, which he owned he could not forgive me\nso heartily as he should do, because he was satisfied it was an injury\nto myself, would be an introduction to my ruin, and that I would\nseriously repent of it. He foretold some fatal things which, he said, he\nwas well assured I should fall into, and that at last I would be ruined\nby a bad husband; bid me be the more wary, that I might render him a\nfalse prophet; but to remember that, if ever I came into distress, I had\na fast friend at Paris, who would not upbraid me with the unkind things\npast, but would be always ready to return me good for evil.\nThis letter stunned me. I could not think it possible for any one that\nhad not dealt with the devil to write such a letter, for he spoke of\nsome particular things which afterwards were to befall me with such an\nassurance that it frighted me beforehand; and when those things did come\nto pass, I was persuaded he had some more than human knowledge. In a\nword, his advices to me to repent were very affectionate, his warnings\nof evil to happen to me were very kind, and his promises of assistance,\nif I wanted him, were so generous that I have seldom seen the like; and\nthough I did not at first set much by that part because I looked upon\nthem as what might not happen, and as what was improbable to happen at\nthat time, yet all the rest of his letter was so moving that it left me\nvery melancholy, and I cried four-and-twenty hours after, almost without\nceasing, about it; and yet even all this while, whatever it was that\nbewitched me, I had not one serious wish that I had taken him. I wished\nheartily, indeed, that I could have kept him with me, but I had a mortal\naversion to marrying him, or indeed anybody else, but formed a thousand\nwild notions in my head that I was yet gay enough, and young and\nhandsome enough, to please a man of quality, and that I would try my\nfortune at London, come of it what would.\nThus blinded by my own vanity, I threw away the only opportunity I then\nhad to have effectually settled my fortunes, and secured them for this\nworld; and I am a memorial to all that shall read my story, a standing\nmonument of the madness and distraction which pride and infatuations\nfrom hell run us into, how ill our passions guide us, and how\ndangerously we act when we follow the dictates of an ambitious mind.\nI was rich, beautiful, and agreeable, and not yet old. I had known\nsomething of the influence I had had upon the fancies of men even of the\nhighest rank. I never forgot that the Prince de ---- had said, with an\necstasy, that I was the finest woman in France. I knew I could make a\nfigure at London, and how well I could grace that figure. I was not at a\nloss how to behave, and having already been adored by princes, I thought\nof nothing less than of being mistress to the king himself. But I go\nback to my immediate circumstances at that time.\nI got over the absence of my honest merchant but slowly at first. It was\nwith infinite regret that I let him go at all; and when I read the\nletter he left I was quite confounded. As soon as he was out of call\nand irrecoverable I would have given half I had in the world for him\nback again; my notion of things changed in an instant, and I called\nmyself a thousand fools for casting myself upon a life of scandal and\nhazard, when, after the shipwreck of virtue, honour, and principle, and\nsailing at the utmost risk in the stormy seas of crime and abominable\nlevity, I had a safe harbour presented, and no heart to cast anchor in\nit.\nHis predictions terrified me; his promises of kindness if I came to\ndistress melted me into tears, but frighted me with the apprehensions of\never coming into such distress, and filled my head with a thousand\nanxieties and thoughts how it should be possible for me, who had now\nsuch a fortune, to sink again into misery.\nThen the dreadful scene of my life, when I was left with my five\nchildren, &c., as I have related, represented itself again to me, and I\nsat considering what measures I might take to bring myself to such a\nstate of desolation again, and how I should act to avoid it.\nBut these things wore off gradually. As to my friend the merchant, he\nwas gone, and gone irrecoverably, for I durst not follow him to Paris,\nfor the reasons mentioned above. Again, I was afraid to write to him to\nreturn, lest he should have refused, as I verily believed he would; so\nI sat and cried intolerably for some days--nay, I may say for some\nweeks; but, I say, it wore off gradually, and as I had a pretty deal of\nbusiness for managing my effects, the hurry of that particular part\nserved to divert my thoughts, and in part to wear out the impressions\nwhich had been made upon my mind.\nI had sold my jewels, all but the diamond ring which my gentleman the\njeweller used to wear, and this, at proper times, I wore myself; as also\nthe diamond necklace which the prince had given me, and a pair of\nextraordinary earrings worth about 600 pistoles; the other, which was a\nfine casket, he left with me at his going to Versailles, and a small\ncase with some rubies and emeralds, &c. I say I sold them at the Hague\nfor 7600 pistoles. I had received all the bills which the merchant had\nhelped me to at Paris, and with the money I brought with me, they made\nup 13,900 pistoles more; so that I had in ready money, and in account in\nthe bank at Amsterdam, above one-and-twenty thousand pistoles, besides\njewels; and how to get this treasure to England was my next care.\nThe business I had had now with a great many people for receiving such\nlarge sums and selling jewels of such considerable value gave me\nopportunity to know and converse with several of the best merchants of\nthe place, so that I wanted no direction now how to get my money\nremitted to England. Applying, therefore, to several merchants, that I\nmight neither risk it all on the credit of one merchant, nor suffer any\nsingle man to know the quantity of money I had; I say, applying myself\nto several merchants, I got bills of exchange payable in London for all\nmy money. The first bills I took with me; the second bills I left in\ntrust (in case of any disaster at sea) in the hands of the first\nmerchant, him to whom I was recommended by my friend from Paris.\nHaving thus spent nine months in Holland, refused the best offer ever\nwoman in my circumstances had, parted unkindly, and indeed barbarously,\nwith the best friend and honestest man in the world, got all my money in\nmy pocket, and a bastard in my belly, I took shipping at the Brill in\nthe packet-boat, and arrived safe at Harwich, where my woman Amy was\ncome by my direction to meet me.\nI would willingly have given ten thousand pounds of my money to have\nbeen rid of the burthen I had in my belly, as above; but it could not\nbe, so I was obliged to bear with that part, and get rid of it by the\nordinary method of patience and a hard travail.\nI was above the contemptible usage that women in my circumstances\noftentimes meet with. I had considered all that beforehand; and having\nsent Amy beforehand, and remitted her money to do it, she had taken me\na very handsome house in ---- Street, near Charing Cross; had hired me\ntwo maids and a footman, who she had put in a good livery; and having\nhired a glass coach and four horses, she came with them and the\nman-servant to Harwich to meet me, and had been there near a week before\nI came, so I had nothing to do but to go away to London to my own house,\nwhere I arrived in very good health, and where I passed for a French\nlady, by the title of ----.\nMy first business was to get all my bills accepted, which, to cut the\nstory short, was all both accepted and currently paid; and I then\nresolved to take me a country lodging somewhere near the town, to be\nincognito, till I was brought to bed; which, appearing in such a figure\nand having such an equipage, I easily managed without anybody's offering\nthe usual insults of parish inquiries. I did not appear in my new house\nfor some time, and afterwards I thought fit, for particular reasons, to\nquit that house, and not to come to it at all, but take handsome large\napartments in the Pall Mall, in a house out of which was a private door\ninto the king's garden, by the permission of the chief gardener, who had\nlived in the house.\nI had now all my effects secured; but my money being my great concern at\nthat time, I found it a difficulty how to dispose of it so as to bring\nme in an annual interest. However, in some time I got a substantial\nsafe mortgage for \u00a314,000 by the assistance of the famous Sir Robert\nClayton, for which I had an estate of \u00a31800 a year bound to me, and had\n\u00a3700 per annum interest for it.\nThis, with some other securities, made me a very handsome estate of\nabove a thousand pounds a year; enough, one would think, to keep any\nwoman in England from being a whore.\nI lay in at ----, about four miles from London, and brought a fine boy\ninto the world, and, according to my promise, sent an account of it to\nmy friend at Paris, the father of it; and in the letter told him how\nsorry I was for his going away, and did as good as intimate that, if he\nwould come once more to see me, I should use him better than I had done.\nHe gave me a very kind and obliging answer, but took not the least\nnotice of what I had said of his coming over, so I found my interest\nlost there for ever. He gave me joy of the child, and hinted that he\nhoped I would make good what he had begged for the poor infant as I had\npromised, and I sent him word again that I would fulfil his order to a\ntittle; and such a fool and so weak I was in this last letter,\nnotwithstanding what I have said of his not taking notice of my\ninvitation, as to ask his pardon almost for the usage I gave him at\nRotterdam, and stooped so low as to expostulate with him for not taking\nnotice of my inviting him to come to me again, as I had done; and,\nwhich was still more, went so far as to make a second sort of an offer\nto him, telling him, almost in plain words, that if he would come over\nnow I would have him; but he never gave me the least reply to it at all,\nwhich was as absolute a denial to me as he was ever able to give; so I\nsat down, I cannot say contented, but vexed heartily that I had made the\noffer at all, for he had, as I may say, his full revenge of me in\nscorning to answer, and to let me twice ask that of him which he with so\nmuch importunity begged of me before.\nI was now up again, and soon came to my City lodging in the Pall Mall,\nand here I began to make a figure suitable to my estate, which was very\ngreat; and I shall give you an account of my equipage in a few words,\nand of myself too.\nI paid \u00a360 a year for my new apartments, for I took them by the year;\nbut then they were handsome lodgings indeed, and very richly furnished.\nI kept my own servants to clean and look after them, found my own\nkitchen ware and firing. My equipage was handsome, but not very great; I\nhad a coach, a coachman, a footman, my woman Amy, who I now dressed like\na gentlewoman and made her my companion, and three maids; and thus I\nlived for a time. I dressed to the height of every mode, went extremely\nrich in clothes, and as for jewels, I wanted none. I gave a very good\nlivery, laced with silver, and as rich as anybody below the nobility\ncould be seen with; and thus I appeared, leaving the world to guess who\nor what I was, without offering to put myself forward.\nI walked sometimes in the Mall with my woman Amy, but I kept no company\nand made no acquaintances, only made as gay a show as I was able to do,\nand that upon all occasions. I found, however, the world was not\naltogether so unconcerned about me as I seemed to be about them; and\nfirst I understood that the neighbours began to be mighty inquisitive\nabout me, as who I was, and what my circumstances were.\nAmy was the only person that could answer their curiosity or give any\naccount of me; and she, a tattling woman and a true gossip, took care to\ndo that with all the art that she was mistress of. She let them know\nthat I was the widow of a person of quality in France, that I was very\nrich, that I came over hither to look after an estate that fell to me by\nsome of my relations who died here, that I was worth \u00a340,000 all in my\nown hands, and the like.\nThis was all wrong in Amy, and in me too, though we did not see it at\nfirst, for this recommended me indeed to those sort of gentlemen they\ncall fortune-hunters, and who always besieged ladies, as they called\nit--on purpose to take them prisoners, as I called it--that is to say,\nto marry the women and have the spending of their money. But if I was\nwrong in refusing the honourable proposals of the Dutch merchant, who\noffered me the disposal of my whole estate, and had as much of his own\nto maintain me with, I was right now in refusing those offers which came\ngenerally from gentlemen of good families and good estates, but who,\nliving to the extent of them, were always needy and necessitous, and\nwanted a sum of money to make themselves easy, as they call it--that is\nto say, to pay off encumbrances, sisters' portions, and the like; and\nthen the woman is prisoner for life, and may live as they give her\nleave. This life I had seen into clearly enough, and therefore I was not\nto be catched that way. However, as I said, the reputation of my money\nbrought several of those sort of gentry about me, and they found means,\nby one stratagem or other, to get access to my ladyship; but, in short,\nI answered them well enough, that I lived single and was happy; that as\nI had no occasion to change my condition for an estate, so I did not see\nthat by the best offer that any of them could make me I could mend my\nfortune; that I might be honoured with titles indeed, and in time rank\non public occasions with the peeresses (I mention that because one that\noffered at me was the eldest son of a peer), but that I was as well\nwithout the title as long as I had the estate, and while I had \u00a32000 a\nyear of my own I was happier than I could be in being prisoner of state\nto a nobleman, for I took the ladies of that rank to be little better.\nAs I have mentioned Sir Robert Clayton, with whom I had the good fortune\nto become acquainted, on account of the mortgage which he helped me to,\nit is necessary to take notice that I had much advantage in my ordinary\naffairs by his advice, and therefore I called it my good fortune; for as\nhe paid me so considerable an annual income as \u00a3700 a year, so I am to\nacknowledge myself much a debtor, not only to the justice of his\ndealings with me, but to the prudence and conduct which he guided me to,\nby his advice, for the management of my estate. And as he found I was\nnot inclined to marry, he frequently took occasion to hint how soon I\nmight raise my fortune to a prodigious height if I would but order my\nfamily economy so far within my revenue as to lay up every year\nsomething to add to the capital.\nI was convinced of the truth of what he said, and agreed to the\nadvantages of it. You are to take it as you go that Sir Robert supposed\nby my own discourse, and especially by my woman Amy, that I had \u00a32000 a\nyear income. He judged, as he said, by my way of living that I could not\nspend above one thousand, and so, he added, I might prudently lay by\n\u00a31000 every year to add to the capital; and by adding every year the\nadditional interest or income of the money to the capital, he proved to\nme that in ten years I should double the \u00a31000 per annum that I laid by.\nAnd he drew me out a table, as he called it, of the increase, for me to\njudge by; and by which, he said, if the gentlemen of England would but\nact so, every family of them would increase their fortunes to a great\ndegree, just as merchants do by trade; whereas now, says Sir Robert, by\nthe humour of living up to the extent of their fortunes, and rather\nbeyond, the gentlemen, says he, ay, and the nobility too, are almost all\nof them borrowers, and all in necessitous circumstances.\nAs Sir Robert frequently visited me, and was (if I may say so from his\nown mouth) very well pleased with my way of conversing with him, for he\nknew nothing, not so much as guessed at what I had been; I say, as he\ncame often to see me, so he always entertained me with this scheme of\nfrugality; and one time he brought another paper, wherein he showed me,\nmuch to the same purpose as the former, to what degree I should increase\nmy estate if I would come into his method of contracting my expenses;\nand by this scheme of his, it appeared that, laying up a thousand pounds\na year, and every year adding the interest to it, I should in twelve\nyears' time have in bank one-and-twenty thousand and fifty-eight\npounds, after which I might lay up two thousand pounds a year.\nI objected that I was a young woman, that I had been used to live\nplentifully, and with a good appearance, and that I knew not how to be a\nmiser.\nHe told me that if I thought I had enough it was well, but that if I\ndesired to have more, this was the way; that in another twelve years I\nshould be too rich, so that I should not know what to do with it.\n\"Ay, sir,\" says I, \"you are contriving how to make me a rich old woman,\nbut that won't answer my end; I had rather have \u00a320,000 now than \u00a360,000\nwhen I am fifty years old.\"\n\"Then, madam,\" says he, \"I suppose your honour has no children?\"\n\"None, Sir Robert,\" said I, \"but what are provided for.\" So I left him\nin the dark as much as I found him. However, I considered his scheme\nvery well, though I said no more to him at that time, and I resolved,\nthough I would make a very good figure, I say I resolved to abate a\nlittle of my expense, and draw in, live closer, and save something, if\nnot so much as he proposed to me. It was near the end of the year that\nSir Robert made this proposal to me, and when the year was up I went to\nhis house in the City, and there I told him I came to thank him for his\nscheme of frugality; that I had been studying much upon it, and though I\nhad not been able to mortify myself so much as to lay up a thousand\npounds a year, yet, as I had not come to him for my interest\nhalf-yearly, as was usual, I was now come to let him know that I had\nresolved to lay up that seven hundred pounds a year, and never use a\npenny of it, desiring him to help me to put it out to advantage.\nSir Robert, a man thoroughly versed in arts of improving money, but\nthoroughly honest, said to me, \"Madam, I am glad you approve of the\nmethod that I proposed to you; but you have begun wrong; you should have\ncome for your interest at the half-year, and then you had had the money\nto put out. Now you have lost half a year's interest of \u00a3350, which is\n\u00a39; for I had but 5 per cent, on the mortgage.\"\n\"Well, well, sir,\" says I, \"can you put this out for me now?\"\n\"Let it lie, madam,\" says he, \"till the next year, and then I'll put out\nyour \u00a31400 together, and in the meantime I'll pay you interest for the\n\u00a3700.\" So he gave me his bill for the money, which he told me should be\nno less than \u00a36 per cent. Sir Robert Clayton's bill was what nobody\nwould refuse, so I thanked him and let it lie; and next year I did the\nsame, and the third year Sir Robert got me a good mortgage for \u00a32200 at\n\u00a36 per cent interest. So I had \u00a3132 a year added to my income, which was\na very satisfying article.\nBut I return to my history. As I have said, I found that my measures\nwere all wrong; the posture I set up in exposed me to innumerable\nvisitors of the kind I have mentioned above. I was cried up for a vast\nfortune, and one that Sir Robert Clayton managed for; and Sir Robert\nClayton was courted for me as much as I was for myself. But I had given\nSir Robert his cue. I had told him my opinion of matrimony, in just the\nsame terms as I had done my merchant, and he came into it presently. He\nowned that my observation was just, and that if I valued my liberty, as\nI knew my fortune, and that it was in my own hands, I was to blame if I\ngave it away to any one.\nBut Sir Robert knew nothing of my design, that I aimed at being a kept\nmistress, and to have a handsome maintenance; and that I was still for\ngetting money, and laying it up too, as much as he could desire me, only\nby a worse way.\nHowever, Sir Robert came seriously to me one day, and told me he had an\noffer of matrimony to make to me that was beyond all that he had heard\nhad offered themselves, and this was a merchant. Sir Robert and I agreed\nexactly in our notions of a merchant. Sir Robert said, and I found it to\nbe true, that a true-bred merchant is the best gentleman in the nation;\nthat in knowledge, in manners, in judgment of things, the merchant\noutdid many of the nobility; that having once mastered the world, and\nbeing above the demand of business, though no real estate, they were\nthen superior to most gentlemen, even in estate; that a merchant in\nflush business and a capital stock is able to spend more money than a\ngentleman of \u00a35000 a year estate; that while a merchant spent, he only\nspent what he got, and not that, and that he laid up great sums every\nyear; that an estate is a pond, but that a trade was a spring; that if\nthe first is once mortgaged, it seldom gets clear, but embarrassed the\nperson for ever; but the merchant had his estate continually flowing;\nand upon this he named me merchants who lived in more real splendour and\nspent more money than most of the noblemen in England could singly\nexpend, and that they still grew immensely rich.\nHe went on to tell me that even the tradesmen in London, speaking of the\nbetter sort of trades, could spend more money in their families, and yet\ngive better fortunes to their children, than, generally speaking, the\ngentry of England from \u00a31000 a year downward could do, and yet grow rich\ntoo.\nThe upshot of all this was to recommend to me rather the bestowing my\nfortune upon some eminent merchant, who lived already in the first\nfigure of a merchant, and who, not being in want or scarcity of money,\nbut having a flourishing business and a flowing cash, would at the first\nword settle all my fortune on myself and children, and maintain me like\na queen.\nThis was certainly right, and had I taken his advice, I had been really\nhappy; but my heart was bent upon an independency of fortune, and I told\nhim I knew no state of matrimony but what was at best a state of\ninferiority, if not of bondage; that I had no notion of it; that I lived\na life of absolute liberty now, was free as I was born, and having a\nplentiful fortune, I did not understand what coherence the words \"honour\nand obey\" had with the liberty of a free woman; that I knew no reason\nthe men had to engross the whole liberty of the race, and make the\nwoman, notwithstanding any disparity of fortune, be subject to the laws\nof marriage, of their own making; that it was my misfortune to be a\nwoman, but I was resolved it should not be made worse by the sex; and,\nseeing liberty seemed to be the men's property, I would be a man-woman,\nfor, as I was born free, I would die so.\nSir Robert smiled, and told me I talked a kind of Amazonian language;\nthat he found few women of my mind, or that, if they were, they wanted\nresolution to go on with it; that, notwithstanding all my notions, which\nhe could not but say had once some weight in them, yet he understood I\nhad broke in upon them, and had been married. I answered, I had so; but\nhe did not hear me say that I had any encouragement from what was past\nto make a second venture; that I was got well out of the toil, and if I\ncame in again I should have nobody to blame but myself.\nSir Robert laughed heartily at me, but gave over offering any more\narguments, only told me he had pointed me out for some of the best\nmerchants in London, but since I forbade him he would give me no\ndisturbance of that kind. He applauded my way of managing my money, and\ntold me I should soon be monstrous rich; but he neither knew or\nmistrusted that, with all this wealth, I was yet a whore, and was not\naverse to adding to my estate at the farther expense of my virtue.\nBut to go on with my story as to my way of living. I found, as above,\nthat my living as I did would not answer; that it only brought the\nfortune-hunters and bites about me, as I have said before, to make a\nprey of me and my money; and, in short, I was harassed with lovers,\nbeaux, and fops of quality, in abundance, but it would not do. I aimed\nat other things, and was possessed with so vain an opinion of my own\nbeauty, that nothing less than the king himself was in my eye. And this\nvanity was raised by some words let fall by a person I conversed with,\nwho was, perhaps, likely enough to have brought such a thing to pass,\nhad it been sooner; but that game began to be pretty well over at\ncourt. However, the having mentioned such a thing, it seems a little\ntoo publicly, it brought abundance of people about me, upon a wicked\naccount too.\nAnd now I began to act in a new sphere. The court was exceedingly gay\nand fine, though fuller of men than of women, the queen not affecting to\nbe very much in public. On the other hand, it is no slander upon the\ncourtiers to say, they were as wicked as anybody in reason could desire\nthem. The king had several mistresses, who were prodigious fine, and\nthere was a glorious show on that side indeed. If the sovereign gave\nhimself a loose, it could not be expected the rest of the court should\nbe all saints; so far was it from that, though I would not make it worse\nthan it was, that a woman that had anything agreeable in her appearance\ncould never want followers.\nI soon found myself thronged with admirers, and I received visits from\nsome persons of very great figure, who always introduced themselves by\nthe help of an old lady or two who were now become my intimates; and one\nof them, I understood afterwards, was set to work on purpose to get into\nmy favour, in order to introduce what followed.\nThe conversation we had was generally courtly, but civil. At length some\ngentlemen proposed to play, and made what they called a party. This, it\nseems, was a contrivance of one of my female hangers-on, for, as I\nsaid, I had two of them, who thought this was the way to introduce\npeople as often as she pleased; and so indeed it was. They played high\nand stayed late, but begged my pardon, only asked leave to make an\nappointment for the next night. I was as gay and as well pleased as any\nof them, and one night told one of the gentlemen, my Lord ----, that\nseeing they were doing me the honour of diverting themselves at my\napartment, and desired to be there sometimes, I did not keep a\ngaming-table, but I would give them a little ball the next day if they\npleased, which they accepted very willingly.\nAccordingly, in the evening the gentlemen began to come, where I let\nthem see that I understood very well what such things meant. I had a\nlarge dining-room in my apartments, with five other rooms on the same\nfloor, all which I made drawing-rooms for the occasion, having all the\nbeds taken down for the day. In three of these I had tables placed,\ncovered with wine and sweetmeats, the fourth had a green table for play,\nand the fifth was my own room, where I sat, and where I received all the\ncompany that came to pay their compliments to me. I was dressed, you may\nbe sure, to all the advantage possible, and had all the jewels on that I\nwas mistress of. My Lord ----, to whom I had made the invitation, sent me\na set of fine music from the playhouse, and the ladies danced, and we\nbegan to be very merry, when about eleven o'clock I had notice given me\nthat there were some gentlemen coming in masquerade. I seemed a little\nsurprised, and began to apprehend some disturbance, when my Lord ----\nperceiving it, spoke to me to be easy, for that there was a party of the\nguards at the door which should be ready to prevent any rudeness; and\nanother gentleman gave me a hint as if the king was among the masks. I\ncoloured as red as blood itself could make a face look, and expressed a\ngreat surprise; however, there was no going back, so I kept my station\nin my drawing-room, but with the folding-doors wide open.\nA while after the masks came in, and began with a dance _\u00e0 la comique_,\nperforming wonderfully indeed. While they were dancing I withdrew, and\nleft a lady to answer for me that I would return immediately. In less\nthan half-an-hour I returned, dressed in the habit of a Turkish\nprincess; the habit I got at Leghorn, when my foreign prince bought me a\nTurkish slave, as I have said. The Maltese man-of-war had, it seems,\ntaken a Turkish vessel going from Constantinople to Alexandria, in which\nwere some ladies bound for Grand Cairo in Egypt; and as the ladies were\nmade slaves, so their fine clothes were thus exposed; and with this\nTurkish slave I bought the rich clothes too. The dress was\nextraordinary fine indeed; I had bought it as a curiosity, having never\nseen the like. The robe was a fine Persian or India damask, the ground\nwhite, and the flowers blue and gold, and the train held five yards. The\ndress under it was a vest of the same, embroidered with gold, and set\nwith some pearl in the work and some turquoise stones. To the vest was a\ngirdle five or six inches wide, after the Turkish mode; and on both ends\nwhere it joined, or hooked, was set with diamonds for eight inches\neither way, only they were not true diamonds, but nobody knew that but\nmyself.\nThe turban, or head-dress, had a pinnacle on the top, but not above five\ninches, with a piece of loose sarcenet hanging from it; and on the\nfront, just over the forehead, was a good jewel which I had added to it.\nThis habit, as above, cost me about sixty pistoles in Italy, but cost\nmuch more in the country from whence it came; and little did I think\nwhen I bought it that I should put it to such a use as this, though I\nhad dressed myself in it many times by the help of my little Turk, and\nafterwards between Amy and I, only to see how I looked in it. I had sent\nher up before to get it ready, and when I came up I had nothing to do\nbut slip it on, and was down in my drawing-room in a little more than a\nquarter of an hour. When I came there the room was full of company; but\nI ordered the folding-doors to be shut for a minute or two till I had\nreceived the compliments of the ladies that were in the room, and had\ngiven them a full view of my dress.\nBut my Lord ----, who happened to be in the room, slipped out at another\ndoor, and brought back with him one of the masks, a tall, well-shaped\nperson, but who had no name, being all masked; nor would it have been\nallowed to ask any person's name on such an occasion. The person spoke\nin French to me, that it was the finest dress he had ever seen, and\nasked me if he should have the honour to dance with me. I bowed, as\ngiving my consent, but said, as I had been a Mahometan, I could not\ndance after the manner of this country; I supposed their music would not\nplay _\u00e0 la Moresque_. He answered merrily. I had a Christian's face, and\nhe'd venture it that I could dance like a Christian; adding that so much\nbeauty could not be Mahometan. Immediately the folding-doors were flung\nopen, and he led me into the room. The company were under the greatest\nsurprise imaginable; the very music stopped awhile to gaze, for the\ndress was indeed exceedingly surprising, perfectly new, very agreeable,\nand wonderful rich.\nThe gentleman, whoever he was, for I never knew, led me only _\u00e0\ncourant_, and then asked me if I had a mind to dance an antic--that is\nto say, whether I would dance the antic as they had danced in\nmasquerade, or anything by myself. I told him anything else rather, if\nhe pleased; so we danced only two French dances, and he led me to the\ndrawing-room door, when he retired to the rest of the masks. When he\nleft me at the drawing-room door I did not go in, as he thought I would\nhave done, but turned about and showed myself to the whole room, and\ncalling my woman to me, gave her some directions to the music, by which\nthe company presently understood that I would give them a dance by\nmyself. Immediately all the house rose up and paid me a kind of a\ncompliment by removing back every way to make me room, for the place was\nexceedingly full. The music did not at first hit the tune that I\ndirected, which was a French tune, so I was forced to send my woman to\nthem again, standing all this while at my drawing-room door; but as soon\nas my woman spoke to them again, they played it right, and I, to let\nthem see it was so, stepped forward to the middle of the room. Then they\nbegan it again, and I danced by myself a figure which I learnt in\nFrance, when the Prince de ---- desired I would dance for his diversion.\nIt was, indeed, a very fine figure, invented by a famous master at\nParis, for a lady or a gentleman to dance single; but being perfectly\nnew, it pleased the company exceedingly, and they all thought it had\nbeen Turkish; nay, one gentleman had the folly to expose himself so\nmuch as to say, and I think swore too, that he had seen it danced at\nConstantinople, which was ridiculous enough.\nAt the finishing the dance the company clapped, and almost shouted; and\none of the gentlemen cried out \"Roxana! Roxana! by ----,\" with an oath;\nupon which foolish accident I had the name of Roxana presently fixed\nupon me all over the court end of town as effectually as if I had been\nchristened Roxana. I had, it seems, the felicity of pleasing everybody\nthat night to an extreme; and my ball, but especially my dress, was the\nchat of the town for that week; and so the name of Roxana was the toast\nat and about the court; no other health was to be named with it.\nNow things began to work as I would have them, and I began to be very\npopular, as much as I could desire. The ball held till (as well as I was\npleased with the show) I was sick of the night; the gentlemen masked\nwent off about three o'clock in the morning, the other gentlemen sat\ndown to play; the music held it out, and some of the ladies were dancing\nat six in the morning.\nBut I was mighty eager to know who it was danced with me. Some of the\nlords went so far as to tell me I was very much honoured in my company;\none of them spoke so broad as almost to say it was the king, but I was\nconvinced afterwards it was not; and another replied if he had been his\nMajesty he should have thought it no dishonour to lead up a Roxana; but\nto this hour I never knew positively who it was; and by his behaviour I\nthought he was too young, his Majesty being at that time in an age that\nmight be discovered from a young person, even in his dancing.\nBe that as it would, I had five hundred guineas sent me the next\nmorning, and the messenger was ordered to tell me that the persons who\nsent it desired a ball again at my lodgings on the next Tuesday, but\nthat they would have my leave to give the entertainment themselves. I\nwas mighty well pleased with this, to be sure, but very inquisitive to\nknow who the money came from; but the messenger was silent as death as\nto that point, and bowing always at my inquiries, begged me to ask no\nquestions which he could not give an obliging answer to.\nI forgot to mention, that the gentlemen that played gave a hundred\nguineas to the box, as they called it, and at the end of their play they\nasked for my gentlewoman of the bedchamber, as they called her (Mrs.\nAmy, forsooth), and gave it her, and gave twenty guineas more among the\nservants.\nThese magnificent doings equally both pleased and surprised me, and I\nhardly knew where I was; but especially that notion of the king being\nthe person that danced with me, puffed me up to that degree, that I not\nonly did not know anybody else, but indeed was very far from knowing\nmyself.\nI had now, the next Tuesday, to provide for the like company. But, alas!\nit was all taken out of my hand. Three gentlemen, who yet were, it\nseems, but servants, came on the Saturday, and bringing sufficient\ntestimonies that they were right, for one was the same who brought the\nfive hundred guineas; I say, three of them came, and brought bottles of\nall sorts of wines, and hampers of sweetmeats to such a quantity, it\nappeared they designed to hold the trade on more than once, and that\nthey would furnish everything to a profusion.\nHowever, as I found a deficiency in two things, I made provision of\nabout twelve dozen of fine damask napkins, with tablecloths of the same,\nsufficient to cover all the tables, with three tablecloths upon every\ntable, and sideboards in proportion. Also I bought a handsome quantity\nof plate, necessary to have served all the sideboards; but the gentlemen\nwould not suffer any of it to be used, telling me they had bought fine\nchina dishes and plates for the whole service, and that in such public\nplaces they could not be answerable for the plate. So it was set all up\nin a large glass cupboard in the room I sat in, where it made a very\ngood show indeed.\nOn Tuesday there came such an appearance of gentlemen and ladies, that\nmy apartments were by no means able to receive them, and those who in\nparticular appeared as principals gave order below to let no more\ncompany come up. The street was full of coaches with coronets, and fine\nglass chairs, and, in short, it was impossible to receive the company. I\nkept my little room as before, and the dancers filled the great room;\nall the drawing-rooms also were filled, and three rooms below stairs,\nwhich were not mine.\nIt was very well that there was a strong party of the guards brought to\nkeep the door, for without that there had been such a promiscuous crowd,\nand some of them scandalous too, that we should have been all disorder\nand confusion; but the three head servants managed all that, and had a\nword to admit all the company by.\nIt was uncertain to me, and is to this day, who it was that danced with\nme the Wednesday before, when the ball was my own; but that the king was\nat this assembly was out of question with me, by circumstances that, I\nsuppose, I could not be deceived in, and particularly that there were\nfive persons who were not masked; three of them had blue garters, and\nthey appeared not to me till I came out to dance.\nThis meeting was managed just as the first, though with much more\nmagnificence, because of the company. I placed myself (exceedingly rich\nin clothes and jewels) in the middle of my little room, as before, and\nmade my compliment to all the company as they passed me, as I did\nbefore. But my Lord ----, who had spoken openly to me the first night,\ncame to me, and, unmasking, told me the company had ordered him to tell\nme they hoped they should see me in the dress I had appeared in the\nfirst day, which had been so acceptable that it had been the occasion of\nthis new meeting. \"And, madam,\" says he, \"there are some in this\nassembly who it is worth your while to oblige.\"\nI bowed to my Lord ----, and immediately withdrew. While I was above,\na-dressing in my new habit, two ladies, perfectly unknown to me, were\nconveyed into my apartment below, by the order of a noble person, who,\nwith his family, had been in Persia; and here, indeed, I thought I\nshould have been outdone, or perhaps balked.\nOne of these ladies was dressed most exquisitely fine indeed, in the\nhabit of a virgin lady of quality of Georgia, and the other in the same\nhabit of Armenia, with each of them a woman slave to attend them.\nThe ladies had their petticoats short to their ankles, but plaited all\nround, and before them short aprons, but of the finest point that could\nbe seen. Their gowns were made with long antique sleeves hanging down\nbehind, and a train let down. They had no jewels, but their heads and\nbreasts were dressed up with flowers, and they both came in veiled.\nTheir slaves were bareheaded, but their long, black hair was braided in\nlocks hanging down behind to their waists, and tied up with ribands.\nThey were dressed exceeding rich, and were as beautiful as their\nmistresses; for none of them had any masks on. They waited in my room\ntill I came down, and all paid their respects to me after the Persian\nmanner, and sat down on a safra--that is to say, almost crosslegged, on\na couch made up of cushions laid on the ground.\nThis was admirably fine, and I was indeed startled at it. They made\ntheir compliment to me in French, and I replied in the same language.\nWhen the doors were opened, they walked into the dancing-room, and\ndanced such a dance as indeed nobody there had ever seen, and to an\ninstrument like a guitar, with a small low-sounding trumpet, which\nindeed was very fine, and which my Lord ---- had provided.\nThey danced three times all alone, for nobody indeed could dance with\nthem. The novelty pleased, truly, but yet there was something wild and\n_bizarre_ in it, because they really acted to the life the barbarous\ncountry whence they came; but as mine had the French behaviour under the\nMahometan dress, it was every way as new, and pleased much better\nindeed.\nAs soon as they had shown their Georgian and Armenian shapes, and\ndanced, as I have said, three times, they withdrew, paid their\ncompliment to me (for I was queen of the day), and went off to undress.\nSome gentlemen then danced with ladies all in masks; and when they\nstopped, nobody rose up to dance, but all called out \"Roxana, Roxana.\"\nIn the interval, my Lord ---- had brought another masked person into my\nroom, who I knew not, only that I could discern it was not the same\nperson that led me out before. This noble person (for I afterwards\nunderstood it was the Duke of ----), after a short compliment, led me\nout into the middle of the room.\nI was dressed in the same vest and girdle as before, but the robe had a\nmantle over it, which is usual in the Turkish habit, and it was of\ncrimson and green, the green brocaded with gold; and my tyhiaai, or\nhead-dress, varied a little from that I had before, as it stood higher,\nand had some jewels about the rising part, which made it look like a\nturban crowned.\nI had no mask, neither did I paint, and yet I had the day of all the\nladies that appeared at the ball, I mean of those that appeared with\nfaces on. As for those masked, nothing could be said of them, no doubt\nthere might be many finer than I was; it must be confessed that the\nhabit was infinitely advantageous to me, and everybody looked at me with\na kind of pleasure, which gave me great advantage too.\nAfter I had danced with that noble person, I did not offer to dance by\nmyself, as I had before; but they all called out \"Roxana\" again; and two\nof the gentlemen came into the drawing-room to entreat me to give them\nthe Turkish dance, which I yielded to readily, so I came out and danced\njust as at first.\nWhile I was dancing, I perceived five persons standing all together, and\namong them only one with his hat on. It was an immediate hint to me who\nit was, and had at first almost put me into some disorder; but I went\non, received the applause of the house, as before, and retired into my\nown room. When I was there, the five gentlemen came across the room to\nmy side, and, coming in, followed by a throng of great persons, the\nperson with his hat on said, \"Madam Roxana, you perform to admiration.\"\nI was prepared, and offered to kneel to kiss his hand, but he declined\nit, and saluted me, and so, passing back again through the great room,\nwent away.\nI do not say here who this was, but I say I came afterwards to know\nsomething more plainly. I would have withdrawn, and disrobed, being\nsomewhat too thin in that dress, unlaced and open-breasted, as if I had\nbeen in my shift; but it could not be, and I was obliged to dance\nafterwards with six or eight gentlemen most, if not all of them, of the\nfirst rank; and I was told afterwards that one of them was the Duke of\nM[onmou]th.\nAbout two or three o'clock in the morning the company began to decrease;\nthe number of women especially dropped away home, some and some at a\ntime; and the gentlemen retired downstairs, where they unmasked and went\nto play.\nAmy waited at the room where they played, sat up all night to attend\nthem, and in the morning when they broke up they swept the box into her\nlap, when she counted out to me sixty-two guineas and a half; and the\nother servants got very well too. Amy came to me when they were all\ngone; \"Law, madam,\" says Amy, with a long gaping cry, \"what shall I do\nwith all this money?\" And indeed the poor creature was half mad with\njoy.\nI was now in my element. I was as much talked of as anybody could\ndesire, and I did not doubt but something or other would come of it; but\nthe report of my being so rich rather was a balk to my view than\nanything else; for the gentlemen that would perhaps have been\ntroublesome enough otherwise, seemed to be kept off, for Roxana was too\nhigh for them.\nThere is a scene which came in here which I must cover from human eyes\nor ears. For three years and about a month Roxana lived retired, having\nbeen obliged to make an excursion in a manner, and with a person which\nduty and private vows obliges her not to reveal, at least not yet.\nAt the end of this time I appeared again; but, I must add, that as I had\nin this time of retreat made hay, &c., so I did not come abroad again\nwith the same lustre, or shine with so much advantage as before. For as\nsome people had got at least a suspicion of where I had been, and who\nhad had me all the while, it began to be public that Roxana was, in\nshort, a mere Roxana, neither better nor worse, and not that woman of\nhonour and virtue that was at first supposed.\nYou are now to suppose me about seven years come to town, and that I had\nnot only suffered the old revenue, which I hinted was managed by Sir\nRobert Clayton, to grow, as was mentioned before, but I had laid up an\nincredible wealth, the time considered; and had I yet had the least\nthought of reforming, I had all the opportunity to do it with advantage\nthat ever woman had. For the common vice of all whores, I mean money,\nwas out of the question, nay, even avarice itself seemed to be glutted;\nfor, including what I had saved in reserving the interest of \u00a314,000,\nwhich, as above, I had left to grow, and including some very good\npresents I had made to me in mere compliment upon these shining\nmasquerading meetings, which I held up for about two years, and what I\nmade of three years of the most glorious retreat, as I call it, that\never woman had, I had fully doubled my first substance, and had near\n\u00a35000 in money which I kept at home, besides abundance of plate and\njewels, which I had either given me or had bought to set myself out for\npublic days.\nIn a word, I had now five-and-thirty thousand pounds estate; and as I\nfound ways to live without wasting either principal or interest, I laid\nup \u00a32000 every year at least out of the mere interest, adding it to the\nprincipal, and thus I went on.\nAfter the end of what I call my retreat, and out of which I brought a\ngreat deal of money, I appeared again, but I seemed like an old piece of\nplate that had been hoarded up some years, and comes out tarnished and\ndiscoloured; so I came out blown, and looked like a cast-off mistress;\nnor, indeed, was I any better, though I was not at all impaired in\nbeauty except that I was a little fatter than I was formerly, and always\ngranting that I was four years older.\nHowever, I preserved the youth of my temper, was always bright, pleasant\nin company, and agreeable to everybody, or else everybody flattered me;\nand in this condition I came abroad to the world again. And though I was\nnot so popular as before, and indeed did not seek it, because I knew it\ncould not be, yet I was far from being without company, and that of the\ngreatest quality (of subjects I mean), who frequently visited me, and\nsometimes we had meetings for mirth and play at my apartments, where I\nfailed not to divert them in the most agreeable manner possible.\nNor could any of them make the least particular application to me, from\nthe notion they had of my excessive wealth, which, as they thought,\nplaced me above the meanness of a maintenance, and so left no room to\ncome easily about me.\nBut at last I was very handsomely attacked by a person of honour, and\n(which recommended him particularly to me) a person of a very great\nestate. He made a long introduction to me upon the subject of my wealth.\n\"Ignorant creature!\" said I to myself, considering him as a lord, \"was\nthere ever woman in the world that could stoop to the baseness of being\na whore, and was above taking the reward of her vice! No, no, depend\nupon it, if your lordship obtains anything of me, you must pay for it;\nand the notion of my being so rich serves only to make it cost you the\ndearer, seeing you cannot offer a small matter to a woman of \u00a32000 a\nyear estate.\"\nAfter he had harangued upon that subject a good while, and had assured\nme he had no design upon me, that he did not come to make a prize of me,\nor to pick my pocket, which, by the way, I was in no fear of, for I took\ntoo much care of my money to part with any of it that way, he then\nturned his discourse to the subject of love, a point so ridiculous to me\nwithout the main thing, I mean the money, that I had no patience to hear\nhim make so long a story of it.\nI received him civilly, and let him see I could bear to hear a wicked\nproposal without being affronted, and yet I was not to be brought into\nit too easily. He visited me a long while, and, in short, courted me as\nclosely and assiduously as if he had been wooing me to matrimony. He\nmade me several valuable presents, which I suffered myself to be\nprevailed with to accept, but not without great difficulty.\nGradually I suffered also his other importunities; and when he made a\nproposal of a compliment or appointment to me for a settlement, he said\nthat though I was rich, yet there was not the less due from him to\nacknowledge the favours he received; and that if I was to be his I\nshould not live at my own expense, cost what it would. I told him I was\nfar from being extravagant, and yet I did not live at the expense of\nless than \u00a3500 a year out of my own pocket; that, however, I was not\ncovetous of settled allowances, for I looked upon that as a kind of\ngolden chain, something like matrimony; that though I knew how to be\ntrue to a man of honour, as I knew his lordship to be, yet I had a kind\nof aversion to the bonds; and though I was not so rich as the world\ntalked me up to be, yet I was not so poor as to bind myself to hardships\nfor a pension.\nHe told me he expected to make my life perfectly easy, and intended it\nso; that he knew of no bondage there could be in a private engagement\nbetween us; that the bonds of honour he knew I would be tied by, and\nthink them no burthen; and for other obligations, he scorned to expect\nanything from me but what he knew as a woman of honour I could grant.\nThen as to maintenance, he told me he would soon show me that he valued\nme infinitely above \u00a3500 a year, and upon this foot we began.\nI seemed kinder to him after this discourse, and as time and private\nconversation made us very intimate, we began to come nearer to the main\narticle, namely, the \u00a3500 a year. He offered that at first word, and to\nacknowledge it as an infinite favour to have it be accepted of; and I,\nthat thought it was too much by all the money, suffered myself to be\nmastered, or prevailed with to yield, even on but a bare engagement upon\nparole.\nWhen he had obtained his end that way, I told him my mind. \"Now you\nsee, my lord,\" said I, \"how weakly I have acted, namely, to yield to you\nwithout any capitulation, or anything secured to me but that which you\nmay cease to allow when you please. If I am the less valued for such a\nconfidence, I shall be injured in a manner that I will endeavour not to\ndeserve.\"\nHe told me that he would make it evident to me that he did not seek me\nby way of bargain, as such things were often done; that as I had treated\nhim with a generous confidence, so I should find I was in the hands of a\nman of honour, and one that knew how to value the obligation; and upon\nthis he pulled out a goldsmith's bill for \u00a3300, which (putting it into\nmy hand), he said, he gave me as a pledge that I should not be a loser\nby my not having made a bargain with him.\nThis was engaging indeed, and gave me a good idea of our future\ncorrespondence; and, in short, as I could not refrain treating him with\nmore kindness than I had done before, so one thing begetting another, I\ngave him several testimonies that I was entirely his own by inclination\nas well as by the common obligation of a mistress, and this pleased him\nexceedingly.\nSoon after this private engagement I began to consider whether it were\nnot more suitable to the manner of life I now led to be a little less\npublic; and, as I told my lord, it would rid me of the importunities of\nothers, and of continual visits from a sort of people who he knew of,\nand who, by the way, having now got the notion of me which I really\ndeserved, began to talk of the old game, love and gallantry, and to\noffer at what was rude enough--things as nauseous to me now as if I had\nbeen married and as virtuous as other people. The visits of these people\nbegan indeed to be uneasy to me, and particularly as they were always\nvery tedious and impertinent; nor could my Lord ---- be pleased with\nthem at all if they had gone on. It would be diverting to set down here\nin what manner I repulsed these sort of people; how in some I resented\nit as an affront, and told them that I was sorry they should oblige me\nto vindicate myself from the scandal of such suggestions by telling them\nthat I could see them no more, and by desiring them not to give\nthemselves the trouble of visiting me, who, though I was not willing to\nbe uncivil, yet thought myself obliged never to receive any visit from\nany gentleman after he had made such proposals as those to me. But these\nthings would be too tedious to bring in here. It was on this account I\nproposed to his lordship my taking new lodgings for privacy; besides, I\nconsidered that as I might live very handsomely, and yet not so\npublicly, so I needed not spend so much money by a great deal; and if I\nmade \u00a3500 a year of this generous person, it was more than I had any\noccasion to spend by a great deal.\nMy lord came readily into this proposal, and went further than I\nexpected, for he found out a lodging for me in a very handsome house,\nwhere yet he was not known--I suppose he had employed somebody to find\nit out for him--and where he had a convenient way to come into the\ngarden by a door that opened into the park, a thing very rarely allowed\nin those times.\nBy this key he could come in at what time of night or day he pleased;\nand as we had also a little door in the lower part of the house which\nwas always left upon a lock, and his was the master-key, so if it was\ntwelve, one, or two o'clock at night, he could come directly into my\nbedchamber. _N.B._--I was not afraid I should be found abed with anybody\nelse, for, in a word, I conversed with nobody at all.\nIt happened pleasantly enough one night, his lordship had stayed late,\nand I, not expecting him that night, had taken Amy to bed with me, and\nwhen my lord came into the chamber we were both fast asleep. I think it\nwas near three o'clock when he came in, and a little merry, but not at\nall fuddled or what they call in drink; and he came at once into the\nroom.\nAmy was frighted out of her wits, and cried out. I said calmly, \"Indeed,\nmy lord, I did not expect you to-night, and we have been a little\nfrighted to-night with fire.\" \"Oh!\" says he, \"I see you have got a\nbedfellow with you.\" I began to make an apology. \"No, no,\" says my lord,\n\"you need no excuse, 'tis not a man bedfellow, I see;\" but then, talking\nmerrily enough, he catched his words back: \"But, hark ye,\" says he, \"now\nI think on 't, how shall I be satisfied it is not a man bedfellow?\"\n\"Oh,\" says I, \"I dare say your lordship is satisfied 'tis poor Amy.\"\n\"Yes,\" says he, \"'tis Mrs. Amy; but how do I know what Amy is? it may be\nMr. Amy for aught I know; I hope you'll give me leave to be satisfied.\"\nI told him, yes, by all means, I would have his lordship satisfied; but\nI supposed he knew who she was.\nWell, he fell foul of poor Amy, and indeed I thought once he would have\ncarried the jest on before my face, as was once done in a like case; but\nhis lordship was not so hot neither, but he would know whether Amy was\nMr. Amy or Mrs. Amy, and so, I suppose, he did; and then being satisfied\nin that doubtful case, he walked to the farther end of the room, and\nwent into a little closet and sat down.\nIn the meantime Amy and I got up, and I bid her run and make the bed in\nanother chamber for my lord, and I gave her sheets to put into it; which\nshe did immediately, and I put my lord to bed there, and when I had\ndone, at his desire went to bed to him. I was backward at first to come\nto bed to him, and made my excuse because I had been in bed with Amy,\nand had not shifted me; but he was past those niceties at that time; and\nas long as he was sure it was Mrs. Amy, and not Mr. Amy, he was very\nwell satisfied, and so the jest passed over. But Amy appeared no more\nall that night, or the next day, and when she did, my lord was so merry\nwith her upon his eclaircissement, as he called it, that Amy did not\nknow what to do with herself.\nNot that Amy was such a nice lady in the main, if she had been fairly\ndealt with, as has appeared in the former part of this work; but now she\nwas surprised, and a little hurried, that she scarce knew where she was;\nand besides, she was, as to his lordship, as nice a lady as any in the\nworld, and for anything he knew of her she appeared as such. The rest\nwas to us only that knew of it.\nI held this wicked scene of life out eight years, reckoning from my\nfirst coming to England; and though my lord found no fault, yet I found,\nwithout much examining, that any one who looked in my face might see I\nwas above twenty years old; and yet, without flattering myself, I\ncarried my age, which was above fifty, very well too.\nI may venture to say that no woman ever lived a life like me, of\nsix-and-twenty years of wickedness, without the least signals of\nremorse, without any signs of repentance, or without so much as a wish\nto put an end to it; I had so long habituated myself to a life of vice,\nthat really it appeared to be no vice to me. I went on smooth and\npleasant, I wallowed in wealth, and it flowed in upon me at such a rate,\nhaving taken the frugal measures that the good knight directed, so that\nI had at the end of the eight years two thousand eight hundred pounds\ncoming yearly in, of which I did not spend one penny, being maintained\nby my allowance from my Lord ----, and more than maintained by above\n\u00a3200 per annum; for though he did not contract for \u00a3500 a year, as I\nmade dumb signs to have it be, yet he gave me money so often, and that\nin such large parcels, that I had seldom so little as seven to eight\nhundred pounds a year of him, one year with another.\n[Illustration: THE DUTCH MERCHANT CALLS ON ROXANA\n_\"There,\" says she (ushering him in), \"is the person who, I suppose,\nthou inquirest for\"_\nPAGE 338]\nI must go back here, after telling openly the wicked things I did, to\nmention something which, however, had the face of doing good. I\nremembered that when I went from England, which was fifteen years\nbefore, I had left five little children, turned out as it were to the\nwide world, and to the charity of their father's relations; the eldest\nwas not six years old, for we had not been married full seven years when\ntheir father went away.\nAfter my coming to England I was greatly desirous to hear how things\nstood with them, and whether they were all alive or not, and in what\nmanner they had been maintained; and yet I resolved not to discover\nmyself to them in the least, or to let any of the people that had the\nbreeding of them up know that there was such a body left in the world as\ntheir mother.\nAmy was the only body I could trust with such a commission, and I sent\nher into Spitalfields, to the old aunt and to the poor woman that were\nso instrumental in disposing the relations to take some care of the\nchildren, but they were both gone, dead and buried some years. The next\ninquiry she made was at the house where she carried the poor children,\nand turned them in at the door. When she came there she found the house\ninhabited by other people, so that she could make little or nothing of\nher inquiries, and came back with an answer that indeed was no answer to\nme, for it gave me no satisfaction at all. I sent her back to inquire in\nthe neighbourhood what was become of the family that lived in that\nhouse; and if they were removed, where they lived, and what\ncircumstances they were in; and, withal, if she could, what became of\nthe poor children, and how they lived, and where; how they had been\ntreated; and the like.\nShe brought me back word upon this second going, that she heard, as to\nthe family, that the husband, who, though but uncle-in-law to the\nchildren, had yet been kindest to them, was dead; and that the widow was\nleft but in mean circumstances--that is to say, she did not want, but\nthat she was not so well in the world as she was thought to be when her\nhusband was alive; that, as to the poor children, two of them, it seems,\nhad been kept by her, that is to say, by her husband, while he lived,\nfor that it was against her will, that we all knew; but the honest\nneighbours pitied the poor children, they said, heartily; for that their\naunt used them barbarously, and made them little better than servants in\nthe house to wait upon her and her children, and scarce allowed them\nclothes fit to wear.\nThese were, it seems, my eldest and third, which were daughters; the\nsecond was a son, the fourth a daughter, and the youngest a son.\nTo finish the melancholy part of this history of my two unhappy girls,\nshe brought me word that as soon as they were able to go out and get any\nwork they went from her, and some said she had turned them out of doors;\nbut it seems she had not done so, but she used them so cruelly that they\nleft her, and one of them went to service to a neighbour's, a little way\noff, who knew her, an honest, substantial weaver's wife, to whom she was\nchambermaid, and in a little time she took her sister out of the\nBridewell of her aunt's house, and got her a place too.\nThis was all melancholy and dull. I sent her then to the weaver's house,\nwhere the eldest had lived, but found that, her mistress being dead, she\nwas gone, and nobody knew there whither she went, only that they heard\nshe had lived with a great lady at the other end of the town; but they\ndid not know who that lady was.\nThese inquiries took us up three or four weeks, and I was not one jot\nthe better for it, for I could hear nothing to my satisfaction. I sent\nher next to find out the honest man who, as in the beginning of my story\nI observed, made them be entertained, and caused the youngest to be\nfetched from the town where we lived, and where the parish officers had\ntaken care of him. This gentleman was still alive; and there she heard\nthat my youngest daughter and eldest son was dead also; but that my\nyoungest son was alive, and was at that time about seventeen years old,\nand that he was put out apprentice by the kindness and charity of his\nuncle, but to a mean trade, and at which he was obliged to work very\nhard.\nAmy was so curious in this part that she went immediately to see him,\nand found him all dirty and hard at work. She had no remembrance at all\nof the youth, for she had not seen him since he was about two years old;\nand it was evident he could have no knowledge of her.\nHowever, she talked with him, and found him a good, sensible, mannerly\nyouth; that he knew little of the story of his father or mother, and had\nno view of anything but to work hard for his living; and she did not\nthink fit to put any great things into his head, lest it should take him\noff of his business, and perhaps make him turn giddy-headed and be good\nfor nothing; but she went and found out that kind man, his benefactor,\nwho had put him out, and finding him a plain, well-meaning, honest, and\nkind-hearted man, she opened her tale to him the easier. She made a long\nstory, how she had a prodigious kindness for the child, because she had\nthe same for his father and mother; told him that she was the\nservant-maid that brought all of them to their aunt's door, and run away\nand left them; that their poor mother wanted bread, and what came of her\nafter she would have been glad to know. She added that her circumstances\nhad happened to mend in the world, and that, as she was in condition,\nso she was disposed to show some kindness to the children if she could\nfind them out.\nHe received her with all the civility that so kind a proposal demanded,\ngave her an account of what he had done for the child, how he had\nmaintained him, fed and clothed him, put him to school, and at last put\nhim out to a trade. She said he had indeed been a father to the child.\n\"But, sir,\" says she, \"'tis a very laborious, hard-working trade, and he\nis but a thin, weak boy.\" \"That's true,\" says he; \"but the boy chose the\ntrade, and I assure you I gave \u00a320 with him, and am to find him clothes\nall his apprenticeship; and as to its being a hard trade,\" says he,\n\"that's the fate of his circumstances, poor boy. I could not well do\nbetter for him.\"\n\"Well, sir, as you did all for him in charity,\" says she, \"it was\nexceeding well; but, as my resolution is to do something for him, I\ndesire you will, if possible, take him away again from that place, where\nhe works so hard, for I cannot bear to see the child work so very hard\nfor his bread, and I will do something for him that shall make him live\nwithout such hard labour.\"\nHe smiled at that. \"I can, indeed,\" says he, \"take him away, but then I\nmust lose my \u00a320 that I gave with him.\"\n\"Well, sir,\" said Amy, \"I'll enable you to lose that \u00a320 immediately;\"\nand so she put her hand in her pocket and pulls out her purse.\nHe begun to be a little amazed at her, and looked her hard in the face,\nand that so very much that she took notice of it, and said, \"Sir, I\nfancy by your looking at me you think you know me, but I am assured you\ndo not, for I never saw your face before. I think you have done enough\nfor the child, and that you ought to be acknowledged as a father to him;\nbut you ought not to lose by your kindness to him, more than the\nkindness of bringing him up obliges you to; and therefore there's the\n\u00a320,\" added she, \"and pray let him be fetched away.\"\n\"Well, madam,\" says he, \"I will thank you for the boy, as well as for\nmyself; but will you please to tell me what I must do with him?\"\n\"Sir,\" says Amy, \"as you have been so kind to keep him so many years, I\nbeg you will take him home again one year more, and I'll bring you a\nhundred pounds more, which I will desire you to lay out in schooling and\nclothes for him, and to pay you for his board. Perhaps I may put him in\na condition to return your kindness.\"\nHe looked pleased, but surprised very much, and inquired of Amy, but\nwith very great respect, what he should go to school to learn, and what\ntrade she would please to put him out to.\nAmy said he should put him to learn a little Latin, and then merchants'\naccounts, and to write a good hand, for she would have him be put to a\nTurkey merchant.\n\"Madam,\" says he, \"I am glad for his sake to hear you talk so; but do\nyou know that a Turkey merchant will not take him under \u00a3400 or \u00a3500?\"\n\"Yes, sir,\" says Amy, \"I know it very well.\"\n\"And,\" says he, \"that it will require as many thousands to set him up?\"\n\"Yes, sir,\" says Amy, \"I know that very well too;\" and, resolving to\ntalk very big, she added, \"I have no children of my own, and I resolve\nto make him my heir, and if \u00a310,000 be required to set him up, he shall\nnot want it. I was but his mother's servant when he was born, and I\nmourned heartily for the disaster of the family, and I always said, if\never I was worth anything in the world, I would take the child for my\nown, and I'll be as good as my word now, though I did not then foresee\nthat it would be with me as it has been since.\" And so Amy told him a\nlong story how she was troubled for me, and what she would give to hear\nwhether I was dead or alive, and what circumstances I was in; that if\nshe could but find me, if I was ever so poor, she would take care of me,\nand make a gentlewoman of me again.\nHe told her that, as to the child's mother, she had been reduced to the\nlast extremity, and was obliged (as he supposed she knew) to send the\nchildren all among her husband's friends; and if it had not been for\nhim, they had all been sent to the parish; but that he obliged the other\nrelations to share the charge among them; that he had taken two, whereof\nhe had lost the eldest, who died of the smallpox, but that he had been\nas careful of this as of his own, and had made very little difference in\ntheir breeding up, only that when he came to put him out he thought it\nwas best for the boy to put him to a trade which he might set up in\nwithout a stock, for otherwise his time would be lost; and that as to\nhis mother, he had never been able to hear one word of her, no, not\nthough he had made the utmost inquiry after her; that there went a\nreport that she had drowned herself, but that he could never meet with\nanybody that could give him a certain account of it.\nAmy counterfeited a cry for her poor mistress; told him she would give\nanything in the world to see her, if she was alive; and a great deal\nmore such-like talk they had about that; then they returned to speak of\nthe boy.\nHe inquired of her why she did not seek after the child before, that he\nmight have been brought up from a younger age, suitable to what she\ndesigned to do for him.\nShe told him she had been out of England, and was but newly returned\nfrom the East Indies. That she had been out of England, and was but\nnewly returned, was true, but the latter was false, and was put in to\nblind him, and provide against farther inquiries; for it was not a\nstrange thing for young women to go away poor to the East Indies, and\ncome home vastly rich. So she went on with directions about him, and\nboth agreed in this, that the boy should by no means be told what was\nintended for him, but only that he should be taken home again to his\nuncle's, that his uncle thought the trade too hard for him, and the\nlike.\nAbout three days after this Amy goes again, and carried him the hundred\npounds she promised him, but then Amy made quite another figure than she\ndid before; for she went in my coach, with two footmen after her, and\ndressed very fine also, with jewels and a gold watch; and there was\nindeed no great difficulty to make Amy look like a lady, for she was a\nvery handsome, well-shaped woman, and genteel enough. The coachman and\nservants were particularly ordered to show her the same respect as they\nwould to me, and to call her Madam Collins, if they were asked any\nquestions about her.\nWhen the gentleman saw what a figure she made it added to the former\nsurprise, and he entertained her in the most respectful manner possible,\ncongratulated her advancement in fortune, and particularly rejoiced that\nit should fall to the poor child's lot to be so provided for, contrary\nto all expectation.\nWell, Amy talked big, but very free and familiar, told them she had no\npride in her good fortune (and that was true enough, for, to give Amy\nher due, she was far from it, and was as good-humoured a creature as\never lived); that she was the same as ever; and that she always loved\nthis boy, and was resolved to do something extraordinary for him.\nThen she pulled out her money, and paid him down a hundred and twenty\npounds, which, she said, she paid him that he might be sure he should\nbe no loser by taking him home again, and that she would come and see\nhim again, and talk farther about things with him, so that all might be\nsettled for him, in such a manner as accidents, such as mortality, or\nanything else, should make no alteration to the child's prejudice.\nAt this meeting the uncle brought his wife out, a good, motherly,\ncomely, grave woman, who spoke very tenderly of the youth, and, as it\nappeared, had been very good to him, though she had several children of\nher own. After a long discourse, she put in a word of her own. \"Madam,\"\nsays she, \"I am heartily glad of the good intentions you have for this\npoor orphan, and I rejoice sincerely in it for his sake; but, madam, you\nknow, I suppose, that there are two sisters alive too; may we not speak\na word for them? Poor girls,\" says she, \"they have not been so kindly\nused as he has, and are turned out to the wide world.\"\n\"Where are they, madam?\" says Amy.\n\"Poor creatures,\" says the gentlewoman, \"they are out at service, nobody\nknows where but themselves; their case is very hard.\"\n\"Well, madam,\" says Amy, \"though if I could find them I would assist\nthem, yet my concern is for my boy, as I call him, and I will put him\ninto a condition to take care of his sisters.\"\n\"But, madam,\" says the good, compassionate creature, \"he may not be so\ncharitable perhaps by his own inclination, for brothers are not\nfathers, and they have been cruelly used already, poor girls; we have\noften relieved them, both with victuals and clothes too, even while they\nwere pretended to be kept by their barbarous aunt.\"\n\"Well, madam,\" says Amy, \"what can I do for them? They are gone, it\nseems, and cannot be heard of. When I see them 'tis time enough.\"\nShe pressed Amy then to oblige their brother, out of the plentiful\nfortune he was like to have, to do something for his sisters when he\nshould be able.\nAmy spoke coldly of that still, but said she would consider of it; and\nso they parted for that time. They had several meetings after this, for\nAmy went to see her adopted son, and ordered his schooling, clothes, and\nother things, but enjoined them not to tell the young man anything, but\nthat they thought the trade he was at too hard for him, and they would\nkeep him at home a little longer, and give him some schooling to fit him\nfor other business; and Amy appeared to him as she did before, only as\none that had known his mother and had some kindness for him.\nThus this matter passed on for near a twelvemonth, when it happened that\none of my maid-servants having asked Amy leave (for Amy was mistress of\nthe servants, and took and put out such as she pleased)--I say, having\nasked leave to go into the city to see her friends, came home crying\nbitterly, and in a most grievous agony she was, and continued so\nseveral days till Amy, perceiving the excess, and that the maid would\ncertainly cry herself sick, she took an opportunity with her and\nexamined her about it.\nThe maid told her a long story, that she had been to see her brother,\nthe only brother she had in the world, and that she knew he was put out\napprentice to a ----; but there had come a lady in a coach to his uncle\n----, who had brought him up, and made him take him home again; and so\nthe wench run on with the whole story just as 'tis told above, till she\ncame to that part that belonged to herself. \"And there,\" says she, \"I\nhad not let them know where I lived, and the lady would have taken me,\nand, they say, would have provided for me too, as she has done for my\nbrother; but nobody could tell where to find me, and so I have lost it\nall, and all the hopes of being anything but a poor servant all my\ndays;\" and then the girl fell a-crying again.\nAmy said, \"What's all this story? Who could this lady be? It must be\nsome trick, sure.\" \"No,\" she said, \"it was not a trick, for she had made\nthem take her brother home from apprentice, and bought him new clothes,\nand put him to have more learning; and the gentlewoman said she would\nmake him her heir.\"\n\"Her heir!\" says Amy. \"What does that amount to? It may be she had\nnothing to leave him; she might make anybody her heir.\"\n\"No, no,\"' says the girl; \"she came in a fine coach and horses, and I\ndon't know how many footmen to attend her, and brought a great bag of\ngold and gave it to my uncle ----, he that brought up my brother, to buy\nhim clothes and to pay for his schooling and board.\"\n\"He that brought up your brother?\" says Amy. \"Why, did not he bring you\nup too as well as your brother? Pray who brought you up, then?\"\nHere the poor girl told a melancholy story, how an aunt had brought up\nher and her sister, and how barbarously she had used them, as we have\nheard.\nBy this time Amy had her head full enough, and her heart too, and did\nnot know how to hold it, or what to do, for she was satisfied that this\nwas no other than my own daughter, for she told her all the history of\nher father and mother, and how she was carried by their maid to her\naunt's door, just as is related in the beginning of my story.\nAmy did not tell me this story for a great while, nor did she well know\nwhat course to take in it; but as she had authority to manage everything\nin the family, she took occasion some time after, without letting me\nknow anything of it, to find some fault with the maid and turn her away.\nHer reasons were good, though at first I was not pleased when I heard of\nit, but I was convinced afterwards that she was in the right, for if she\nhad told me of it I should have been in great perplexity between the\ndifficulty of concealing myself from my own child and the inconvenience\nof having my way of living be known among my first husband's relations,\nand even to my husband himself; for as to his being dead at Paris, Amy,\nseeing me resolved against marrying any more, had told me that she had\nformed that story only to make me easy when I was in Holland if anything\nshould offer to my liking.\nHowever, I was too tender a mother still, notwithstanding what I had\ndone, to let this poor girl go about the world drudging, as it were, for\nbread, and slaving at the fire and in the kitchen as a cook-maid;\nbesides, it came into my head that she might perhaps marry some poor\ndevil of a footman, or a coachman, or some such thing, and be undone\nthat way, or, which was worse, be drawn in to lie with some of that\ncoarse, cursed kind, and be with child, and be utterly ruined that way;\nand in the midst of all my prosperity this gave me great uneasiness.\nAs to sending Amy to her, there was no doing that now, for, as she had\nbeen servant in the house, she knew Amy as well as Amy knew me; and no\ndoubt, though I was much out of her sight, yet she might have had the\ncuriosity to have peeped at me, and seen me enough to know me again if I\nhad discovered myself to her; so that, in short, there was nothing to be\ndone that way.\nHowever, Amy, a diligent indefatigable creature, found out another\nwoman, and gave her her errand, and sent her to the honest man's house\nin Spitalfields, whither she supposed the girl would go after she was\nout of her place; and bade her talk with her, and tell her at a distance\nthat as something had been done for her brother, so something would be\ndone for her too; and, that she should not be discouraged, she carried\nher \u00a320 to buy her clothes, and bid her not go to service any more, but\nthink of other things; that she should take a lodging in some good\nfamily, and that she should soon hear farther.\nThe girl was overjoyed with this news, you may be sure, and at first a\nlittle too much elevated with it, and dressed herself very handsomely\nindeed, and as soon as she had done so came and paid a visit to Madam\nAmy, to let her see how fine she was. Amy congratulated her, and wished\nit might be all as she expected, but admonished her not to be elevated\nwith it too much; told her humility was the best ornament of a\ngentlewoman, and a great deal of good advice she gave her, but\ndiscovered nothing.\nAll this was acted in the first years of my setting up my new figure\nhere in town, and while the masks and balls were in agitation; and Amy\ncarried on the affair of setting out my son into the world, which we\nwere assisted in by the sage advice of my faithful counsellor, Sir\nRobert Clayton, who procured us a master for him, by whom he was\nafterwards sent abroad to Italy, as you shall hear in its place; and Amy\nmanaged my daughter too very well, though by a third hand.\nMy amour with my Lord ---- began now to draw to an end, and indeed,\nnotwithstanding his money, it had lasted so long that I was much more\nsick of his lordship than he could be of me. He grew old and fretful,\nand captious, and I must add, which made the vice itself begin to grow\nsurfeiting and nauseous to me, he grew worse and wickeder the older he\ngrew, and that to such degree as is not fit to write of, and made me so\nweary of him that upon one of his capricious humours, which he often\ntook occasion to trouble me with, I took occasion to be much less\ncomplaisant to him than I used to be; and as I knew him to be hasty, I\nfirst took care to put him into a little passion, and then to resent it,\nand this brought us to words, in which I told him I thought he grew sick\nof me; and he answered in a heat that truly so he was. I answered that I\nfound his lordship was endeavouring to make me sick too; that I had met\nwith several such rubs from him of late, and that he did not use me as\nhe used to do, and I begged his lordship he would make himself easy.\nThis I spoke with an air of coldness and indifference such as I knew he\ncould not bear; but I did not downright quarrel with him and tell him I\nwas sick of him too, and desire him to quit me, for I knew that would\ncome of itself; besides, I had received a great deal of handsome usage\nfrom him, and I was loth to have the breach be on my side, that he might\nnot be able to say I was ungrateful.\n[Illustration: THE AMOUR DRAWS TO AN END\n_I told him I thought he grew sick of me; and he answered in a heat that\ntruly so he was_]\nBut he put the occasion into my hands, for he came no more to me for two\nmonths; indeed I expected a fit of absence, for such I had had several\ntimes before, but not for above a fortnight or three weeks at most;\nbut after I had stayed a month, which was longer than ever he kept away\nyet, I took a new method with him, for I was resolved now it should be\nin my power to continue or not, as I thought fit. At the end of a month,\ntherefore, I removed, and took lodgings at Kensington Gravel Pits, at\nthat part next to the road to Acton, and left nobody in my lodgings but\nAmy and a footman, with proper instructions how to behave when his\nlordship, being come to himself, should think fit to come again, which I\nknew he would.\nAbout the end of two months, he came in the dusk of the evening as\nusual. The footman answered him, and told him his lady was not at home,\nbut there was Mrs. Amy above; so he did not order her to be called down,\nbut went upstairs into the dining-room, and Mrs. Amy came to him. He\nasked where I was. \"My lord,\" said she, \"my mistress has been removed a\ngood while from hence, and lives at Kensington.\" \"Ah, Mrs. Amy! how came\nyou to be here, then?\" \"My lord,\" said she, \"we are here till the\nquarter-day, because the goods are not removed, and to give answers if\nany comes to ask for my lady.\" \"Well, and what answer are you to give to\nme?\" \"Indeed, my lord,\" says Amy, \"I have no particular answer to your\nlordship, but to tell you and everybody else where my lady lives, that\nthey may not think she's run away.\" \"No, Mrs. Amy,\" says he, \"I don't\nthink she's run away; but, indeed, I can't go after her so far as\nthat.\" Amy said nothing to that, but made a courtesy, and said she\nbelieved I would be there again for a week or two in a little time. \"How\nlittle time, Mrs Amy?\" says my lord. \"She comes next Tuesday,\" says Amy.\n\"Very well,\" says my lord; \"I'll call and see her then;\" and so he went\naway.\nAccordingly I came on the Tuesday, and stayed a fortnight, but he came\nnot; so I went back to Kensington, and after that I had very few of his\nlordship's visits, which I was very glad of, and in a little time after\nwas more glad of it than I was at first, and upon a far better account\ntoo.\nFor now I began not to be sick of his lordship only, but really I began\nto be sick of the vice; and as I had good leisure now to divert and\nenjoy myself in the world as much as it was possible for any woman to do\nthat ever lived in it, so I found that my judgment began to prevail upon\nme to fix my delight upon nobler objects than I had formerly done, and\nthe very beginning of this brought some just reflections upon me\nrelating to things past, and to the former manner of my living; and\nthough there was not the least hint in all this from what may be called\nreligion or conscience, and far from anything of repentance, or anything\nthat was akin to it, especially at first, yet the sense of things, and\nthe knowledge I had of the world, and the vast variety of scenes that I\nhad acted my part in, began to work upon my senses, and it came so very\nstrong upon my mind one morning when I had been lying awake some time\nin my bed, as if somebody had asked me the question, What was I a whore\nfor now? It occurred naturally upon this inquiry, that at first I\nyielded to the importunity of my circumstances, the misery of which the\ndevil dismally aggravated, to draw me to comply; for I confess I had\nstrong natural aversions to the crime at first, partly owing to a\nvirtuous education, and partly to a sense of religion; but the devil,\nand that greater devil of poverty, prevailed; and the person who laid\nsiege to me did it in such an obliging, and I may almost say\nirresistible, manner, all still managed by the evil spirit; for I must\nbe allowed to believe that he has a share in all such things, if not the\nwhole management of them. But, I say, it was carried on by that person\nin such an irresistible manner that, as I said when I related the fact,\nthere was no withstanding it; these circumstances, I say, the devil\nmanaged not only to bring me to comply, but he continued them as\narguments to fortify my mind against all reflection, and to keep me in\nthat horrid course I had engaged in, as if it were honest and lawful.\nBut not to dwell upon that now; this was a pretence, and here was\nsomething to be said, though I acknowledge it ought not to have been\nsufficient to me at all; but, I say, to leave that, all this was out of\ndoors; the devil himself could not form one argument, or put one reason\ninto my head now, that could serve for an answer--no, not so much as a\npretended answer to this question, why I should be a whore now.\nIt had for a while been a little kind of excuse to me that I was engaged\nwith this wicked old lord, and that I could not in honour forsake him;\nbut how foolish and absurd did it look to repeat the word \"honour\" on so\nvile an occasion! as if a woman should prostitute her honour in point of\nhonour--horrid inconsistency! Honour called upon me to detest the crime\nand the man too, and to have resisted all the attacks which, from the\nbeginning, had been made upon my virtue; and honour, had it been\nconsulted, would have preserved me honest from the beginning:\n     \"For 'honesty' and 'honour' are the same.\"\nThis, however, shows us with what faint excuses and with what trifles we\npretend to satisfy ourselves, and suppress the attempts of conscience,\nin the pursuit of agreeable crime, and in the possessing those pleasures\nwhich we are loth to part with.\nBut this objection would now serve no longer, for my lord had in some\nsort broke his engagements (I won't call it honour again) with me, and\nhad so far slighted me as fairly to justify my entire quitting of him\nnow; and so, as the objection was fully answered, the question remained\nstill unanswered, Why am I a whore now? Nor indeed had I anything to say\nfor myself, even to myself; I could not without blushing, as wicked as I\nwas, answer that I loved it for the sake of the vice, and that I\ndelighted in being a whore, as such; I say, I could not say this, even\nto myself, and all alone, nor indeed would it have been true. I was\nnever able, in justice and with truth, to say I was so wicked as that;\nbut as necessity first debauched me, and poverty made me a whore at the\nbeginning, so excess of avarice for getting money and excess of vanity\ncontinued me in the crime, not being able to resist the flatteries of\ngreat persons; being called the finest woman in France; being caressed\nby a prince; and afterwards, I had pride enough to expect and folly\nenough to believe, though indeed without ground, by a great monarch.\nThese were my baits, these the chains by which the devil held me bound,\nand by which I was indeed too fast held for any reasoning that I was\nthen mistress of to deliver me from.\nBut this was all over now; avarice could have no pretence. I was out of\nthe reach of all that fate could be supposed to do to reduce me; now I\nwas so far from poor, or the danger of it, that I had \u00a350,000 in my\npocket at least; nay, I had the income of \u00a350,000, for I had \u00a32500 a\nyear coming in upon very good land security, besides three or four\nthousand pounds in money, which I kept by me for ordinary occasions,\nand, besides, jewels, and plate, and goods which were worth near \u00a35600\nmore; these put together, when I ruminated on it all in my thoughts, as\nyou may be sure I did often, added weight still to the question, as\nabove, and it sounded continually in my head, \"What next? What am I a\nwhore for now?\"\nIt is true this was, as I say, seldom out of my thoughts, but yet it\nmade no impressions upon me of that kind which might be expected from a\nreflection of so important a nature, and which had so much of substance\nand seriousness in it.\nBut, however, it was not without some little consequences, even at that\ntime, and which gave a little turn to my way of living at first, as you\nshall hear in its place.\nBut one particular thing intervened besides this which gave me some\nuneasiness at this time, and made way for other things that followed. I\nhave mentioned in several little digressions the concern I had upon me\nfor my children, and in what manner I had directed that affair; I must\ngo on a little with that part, in order to bring the subsequent parts of\nmy story together.\nMy boy, the only son I had left that I had a legal right to call \"son,\"\nwas, as I have said, rescued from the unhappy circumstances of being\napprentice to a mechanic, and was brought up upon a new foot; but though\nthis was infinitely to his advantage, yet it put him back near three\nyears in his coming into this world; for he had been near a year at the\ndrudgery he was first put to, and it took up two years more to form him\nfor what he had hopes given him he should hereafter be, so that he was\nfull nineteen years old, or rather twenty years, before he came to be\nput out as I intended; at the end of which time I put him to a very\nflourishing Italian merchant, and he again sent him to Messina, in the\nisland of Sicily; and a little before the juncture I am now speaking of\nI had letters from him--that is to say, Mrs. Amy had letters from him,\nintimating that he was out of his time, and that he had an opportunity\nto be taken into an English house there, on very good terms, if his\nsupport from hence might answer what he was bid to hope for; and so\nbegged that what would be done for him might be so ordered that he might\nhave it for his present advancement, referring for the particulars to\nhis master, the merchant in London, who he had been put apprentice to\nhere; who, to cut the story short, gave such a satisfactory account of\nit, and of my young man, to my steady and faithful counsellor, Sir\nRobert Clayton, that I made no scruple to pay \u00a34000, which was \u00a31000\nmore than he demanded, or rather proposed, that he might have\nencouragement to enter into the world better than he expected.\nHis master remitted the money very faithfully to him; and finding, by\nSir Robert Clayton, that the young gentleman--for so he called him--was\nwell supported, wrote such letters on his account as gave him a credit\nat Messina equal in value to the money itself.\nI could not digest it very well that I should all this while conceal\nmyself thus from my own child, and make all this favour due, in his\nopinion, to a stranger; and yet I could not find in my heart to let my\nson know what a mother he had, and what a life she lived; when, at the\nsame time that he must think himself infinitely obliged to me, he must\nbe obliged, if he was a man of virtue, to hate his mother, and abhor the\nway of living by which all the bounty he enjoyed was raised.\nThis is the reason of mentioning this part of my son's story, which is\notherwise no ways concerned in my history, but as it put me upon\nthinking how to put an end to that wicked course I was in, that my own\nchild, when he should afterwards come to England in a good figure, and\nwith the appearance of a merchant, should not be ashamed to own me.\nBut there was another difficulty, which lay heavier upon me a great\ndeal, and that was my daughter, who, as before, I had relieved by the\nhands of another instrument, which Amy had procured. The girl, as I have\nmentioned, was directed to put herself into a good garb, take lodgings,\nand entertain a maid to wait upon her, and to give herself some\nbreeding--that is to say, to learn to dance, and fit herself to appear\nas a gentlewoman; being made to hope that she should, some time or\nother, find that she should be put into a condition to support her\ncharacter, and to make herself amends for all her former troubles. She\nwas only charged not to be drawn into matrimony till she was secured of\na fortune that might assist to dispose of herself suitable not to what\nshe then was, but what she was to be.\nThe girl was too sensible of her circumstances not to give all possible\nsatisfaction of that kind, and indeed she was mistress of too much\nunderstanding not to see how much she should be obliged to that part for\nher own interest.\nIt was not long after this, but being well equipped, and in everything\nwell set out, as she was directed, she came, as I have related above,\nand paid a visit to Mrs. Amy, and to tell her of her good fortune. Amy\npretended to be much surprised at the alteration, and overjoyed for her\nsake, and began to treat her very well, entertained her handsomely, and\nwhen she would have gone away, pretended to ask my leave, and sent my\ncoach home with her; and, in short, learning from her where she lodged,\nwhich was in the city, Amy promised to return her visit, and did so;\nand, in a word, Amy and Susan (for she was my own name) began an\nintimate acquaintance together.\nThere was an inexpressible difficulty in the poor girl's way, or else I\nshould not have been able to have forborne discovering myself to her,\nand this was, her having been a servant in my particular family; and I\ncould by no means think of ever letting the children know what a kind of\ncreature they owed their being to, or giving them an occasion to upbraid\ntheir mother with her scandalous life, much less to justify the like\npractice from my example.\nThus it was with me; and thus, no doubt, considering parents always find\nit that their own children are a restraint to them in their worst\ncourses, when the sense of a superior power has not the same influence.\nBut of that hereafter.\nThere happened, however, one good circumstance in the case of this poor\ngirl, which brought about a discovery sooner than otherwise it would\nhave been, and it was thus. After she and Amy had been intimate for some\ntime, and had exchanged several visits, the girl, now grown a woman,\ntalking to Amy of the gay things that used to fall out when she was\nservant in my family, spoke of it with a kind of concern that she could\nnot see (me) her lady; and at last she adds, \"'Twas very strange,\nmadam,\" says she to Amy, \"but though I lived near two years in the\nhouse, I never saw my mistress in my life, except it was that public\nnight when she danced in the fine Turkish habit, and then she was so\ndisguised that I knew nothing of her afterwards.\"\nAmy was glad to hear this, but as she was a cunning girl from the\nbeginning, she was not to be bit, and so she laid no stress upon that at\nfirst, but gave me an account of it; and I must confess it gave me a\nsecret joy to think that I was not known to her, and that, by virtue of\nthat only accident, I might, when other circumstances made room for it,\ndiscover myself to her, and let her know she had a mother in a condition\nfit to be owned.\nIt was a dreadful restraint to me before, and this gave me some very sad\nreflections, and made way for the great question I have mentioned above;\nand by how much the circumstance was bitter to me, by so much the more\nagreeable it was to understand that the girl had never seen me, and\nconsequently did not know me again if she was to be told who I was.\nHowever, the next time she came to visit Amy, I was resolved to put it\nto a trial, and to come into the room and let her see me, and to see by\nthat whether she knew me or not; but Amy put me by, lest indeed, as\nthere was reason enough to question, I should not be able to contain or\nforbear discovering myself to her; so it went off for that time.\nBut both these circumstances, and that is the reason of mentioning them,\nbrought me to consider of the life I lived, and to resolve to put myself\ninto some figure of life in which I might not be scandalous to my own\nfamily, and be afraid to make myself known to my own children, who were\nmy own flesh and blood.\nThere was another daughter I had, which, with all our inquiries, we\ncould not hear of, high nor low, for several years after the first. But\nI return to my own story.\nBeing now in part removed from my old station, I seemed to be in a fair\nway of retiring from my old acquaintances, and consequently from the\nvile, abominable trade I had driven so long; so that the door seemed to\nbe, as it were, particularly open to my reformation, if I had any mind\nto it in earnest; but, for all that, some of my old friends, as I had\nused to call them, inquired me out, and came to visit me at Kensington,\nand that more frequently than I wished they would do; but it being once\nknown where I was, there was no avoiding it, unless I would have\ndownright refused and affronted them; and I was not yet in earnest\nenough with my resolutions to go that length.\nThe best of it was, my old lewd favourite, who I now heartily hated,\nentirely dropped me. He came once to visit me, but I caused Amy to deny\nme, and say I was gone out. She did it so oddly, too, that when his\nlordship went away, he said coldly to her, \"Well, well, Mrs. Amy, I find\nyour mistress does not desire to be seen; tell her I won't trouble her\nany more,\" repeating the words \"any more\" two or three times over, just\nat his going away.\nI reflected a little on it at first as unkind to him, having had so many\nconsiderable presents from him, but, as I have said, I was sick of him,\nand that on some accounts which, if I could suffer myself to publish\nthem, would fully justify my conduct. But that part of the story will\nnot bear telling, so I must leave it, and proceed.\nI had begun a little, as I have said above, to reflect upon my manner of\nliving, and to think of putting a new face upon it, and nothing moved me\nto it more than the consideration of my having three children, who were\nnow grown up; and yet that while I was in that station of life I could\nnot converse with them or make myself known to them; and this gave me a\ngreat deal of uneasiness. At last I entered into talk on this part of it\nwith my woman Amy.\nWe lived at Kensington, as I have said, and though I had done with my\nold wicked l----, as above, yet I was frequently visited, as I said, by\nsome others; so that, in a word, I began to be known in the town, not by\nname only, but by my character too, which was worse.\nIt was one morning when Amy was in bed with me, and I had some of my\ndullest thoughts about me, that Amy, hearing me sigh pretty often, asked\nme if I was not well. \"Yes, Amy, I am well enough,\" says I, \"but my mind\nis oppressed with heavy thoughts, and has been so a good while;\" and\nthen I told her how it grieved me that I could not make myself known to\nmy own children, or form any acquaintances in the world. \"Why so?\" says\nAmy. \"Why, prithee, Amy,\" says I, \"what will my children say to\nthemselves, and to one another, when they find their mother, however\nrich she may be, is at best but a whore, a common whore? And as for\nacquaintance, prithee, Amy, what sober lady or what family of any\ncharacter will visit or be acquainted with a whore?\"\n\"Why, all that's true, madam,\" says Amy; \"but how can it be remedied\nnow?\" \"'Tis true, Amy,\" said I, \"the thing cannot be remedied now, but\nthe scandal of it, I fancy, may be thrown off.\"\n\"Truly,\" says Amy, \"I do not see how, unless you will go abroad again,\nand live in some other nation where nobody has known us or seen us, so\nthat they cannot say they ever saw us before.\"\nThat very thought of Amy put what follows into my head, and I returned,\n\"Why, Amy,\" says I, \"is it not possible for me to shift my being from\nthis part of the town and go and live in another part of the city, or\nanother part of the country, and be as entirely concealed as if I had\nnever been known?\"\n\"Yes,\" says Amy, \"I believe it might; but then you must put off all your\nequipages and servants, coaches and horses, change your liveries--nay,\nyour own clothes, and, if it was possible, your very face.\"\n\"Well,\" says I, \"and that's the way, Amy, and that I'll do, and that\nforthwith; for I am not able to live in this manner any longer.\" Amy\ncame into this with a kind of pleasure particular to herself--that is to\nsay, with an eagerness not to be resisted; for Amy was apt to be\nprecipitant in her motions, and was for doing it immediately. \"Well,\"\nsays I, \"Amy, as soon as you will; but what course must we take to do\nit? We cannot put off servants, and coach and horses, and everything,\nleave off housekeeping, and transform ourselves into a new shape all in\na moment; servants must have warning, and the goods must be sold off,\nand a thousand things;\" and this began to perplex us, and in particular\ntook us up two or three days' consideration.\nAt last Amy, who was a clever manager in such cases, came to me with a\nscheme, as she called it. \"I have found it out, madam,\" says she, \"I\nhave found a scheme how you shall, if you have a mind to it, begin and\nfinish a perfect entire change of your figure and circumstances in one\nday, and shall be as much unknown, madam, in twenty-four hours, as you\nwould be in so many years.\"\n\"Come, Amy,\" says I, \"let us hear of it, for you please me mightily with\nthe thoughts of it.\" \"Why, then,\" says Amy, \"let me go into the city\nthis afternoon, and I'll inquire out some honest, plain sober family,\nwhere I will take lodgings for you, as for a country gentlewoman that\ndesires to be in London for about half a year, and to board yourself and\na kinswoman--that is, half a servant, half a companion, meaning myself;\nand so agree with them by the month. To this lodging (if I hit upon one\nto your mind) you may go to-morrow morning in a hackney-coach, with\nnobody but me, and leave such clothes and linen as you think fit, but,\nto be sure, the plainest you have; and then you are removed at once; you\nnever need set your foot in this house again\" (meaning where we then\nwere), \"or see anybody belonging to it. In the meantime I'll let the\nservants know that you are going over to Holland upon extraordinary\nbusiness, and will leave off your equipages, and so I'll give them\nwarning, or, if they will accept of it, give them a month's wages. Then\nI'll sell off your furniture as well as I can. As to your coach, it is\nbut having it new painted and the lining changed, and getting new\nharness and hammercloths, and you may keep it still or dispose of it as\nyou think fit. And only take care to let this lodging be in some remote\npart of the town, and you may be as perfectly unknown as if you had\nnever been in England in your life.\"\nThis was Amy's scheme, and it pleased me so well that I resolved not\nonly to let her go, but was resolved to go with her myself; but Amy put\nme off of that, because, she said, she should have occasion to hurry up\nand down so long that if I was with her it would rather hinder than\nfurther her, so I waived it.\nIn a word, Amy went, and was gone five long hours; but when she came\nback I could see by her countenance that her success had been suitable\nto her pains, for she came laughing and gaping. \"O madam!\" says she, \"I\nhave pleased you to the life;\" and with that she tells me how she had\nfixed upon a house in a court in the Minories; that she was directed to\nit merely by accident; that it was a female family, the master of the\nhouse being gone to New England, and that the woman had four children,\nkept two maids, and lived very handsomely, but wanted company to divert\nher; and that on that very account she had agreed to take boarders.\nAmy agreed for a good, handsome price, because she was resolved I should\nbe used well; so she bargained to give her \u00a335 for the half-year, and\n\u00a350 if we took a maid, leaving that to my choice; and that we might be\nsatisfied we should meet with nothing very gay, the people were Quakers,\nand I liked them the better.\nI was so pleased that I resolved to go with Amy the next day to see the\nlodgings, and to see the woman of the house, and see how I liked them;\nbut if I was pleased with the general, I was much more pleased with the\nparticulars, for the gentlewoman--I must call her so, though she was a\nQuaker--was a most courteous, obliging, mannerly person, perfectly\nwell-bred and perfectly well-humoured, and, in short, the most agreeable\nconversation that ever I met with; and, which was worth all, so grave,\nand yet so pleasant and so merry, that 'tis scarcely possible for me to\nexpress how I was pleased and delighted with her company; and\nparticularly, I was so pleased that I would go away no more; so I e'en\ntook up my lodging there the very first night.\nIn the meantime, though it took up Amy almost a month so entirely to put\noff all the appearances of housekeeping, as above, it need take me up no\ntime to relate it; 'tis enough to say that Amy quitted all that part of\nthe world and came pack and package to me, and here we took up our\nabode.\nI was now in a perfect retreat indeed, remote from the eyes of all that\never had seen me, and as much out of the way of being ever seen or heard\nof by any of the gang that used to follow me as if I had been among the\nmountains in Lancashire; for when did a blue garter or a coach-and-six\ncome into a little narrow passage in the Minories or Goodman's Fields?\nAnd as there was no fear of them, so really I had no desire to see them,\nor so much as to hear from them any more as long as I lived.\nI seemed in a little hurry while Amy came and went so every day at\nfirst, but when that was over I lived here perfectly retired, and with a\nmost pleasant and agreeable lady; I must call her so, for, though a\nQuaker, she had a full share of good breeding, sufficient to her if she\nhad been a duchess; in a word, she was the most agreeable creature in\nher conversation, as I said before, that ever I met with.\nI pretended, after I had been there some time, to be extremely in love\nwith the dress of the Quakers, and this pleased her so much that she\nwould needs dress me up one day in a suit of her own clothes; but my\nreal design was to see whether it would pass upon me for a disguise.\nAmy was struck with the novelty, though I had not mentioned my design to\nher, and when the Quaker was gone out of the room says Amy, \"I guess\nyour meaning; it is a perfect disguise to you. Why, you look quite\nanother body; I should not have known you myself. Nay,\" says Amy, \"more\nthan that, it makes you look ten years younger than you did.\"\nNothing could please me better than that, and when Amy repeated it, I\nwas so fond of it that I asked my Quaker (I won't call her landlady;\n'tis indeed too coarse a word for her, and she deserved a much\nbetter)--I say, I asked her if she would sell it. I told her I was so\nfond of it that I would give her enough to buy her a better suit. She\ndeclined it at first, but I soon perceived that it was chiefly in good\nmanners, because I should not dishonour myself, as she called it, to put\non her old clothes; but if I pleased to accept of them, she would give\nme them for my dressing-clothes, and go with me, and buy a suit for me\nthat might be better worth my wearing.\nBut as I conversed in a very frank, open manner with her, I bid her do\nthe like with me; that I made no scruples of such things, but that if\nshe would let me have them I would satisfy her. So she let me know what\nthey cost, and to make her amends I gave her three guineas more than\nthey cost her.\nThis good (though unhappy) Quaker had the misfortune to have had a bad\nhusband, and he was gone beyond sea. She had a good house, and well\nfurnished, and had some jointure of her own estate which supported her\nand her children, so that she did not want; but she was not at all above\nsuch a help as my being there was to her; so she was as glad of me as I\nwas of her.\nHowever, as I knew there was no way to fix this new acquaintance like\nmaking myself a friend to her, I began with making her some handsome\npresents and the like to her children. And first, opening my bundles one\nday in my chamber, I heard her in another room, and called her in with a\nkind of familiar way. There I showed her some of my fine clothes, and\nhaving among the rest of my things a piece of very fine new holland,\nwhich I had bought a little before, worth about 9s. an ell, I pulled it\nout: \"Here, my friend,\" says I, \"I will make you a present, if you will\naccept of it;\" and with that I laid the piece of Holland in her lap.\nI could see she was surprised, and that she could hardly speak. \"What\ndost thou mean?\" says she. \"Indeed I cannot have the face to accept so\nfine a present as this;\" adding, \"'Tis fit for thy own use, but 'tis\nabove my wear, indeed.\" I thought she had meant she must not wear it so\nfine because she was a Quaker. So I returned, \"Why, do not you Quakers\nwear fine linen neither?\" \"Yes,\" says she, \"we wear fine linen when we\ncan afford it, but this is too good for me.\" However, I made her take\nit, and she was very thankful too. But my end was answered another way,\nfor by this I engaged her so, that as I found her a woman of\nunderstanding, and of honesty too, I might, upon any occasion, have a\nconfidence in her, which was, indeed, what I very much wanted.\nBy accustoming myself to converse with her, I had not only learned to\ndress like a Quaker, but so used myself to \"thee\" and \"thou\" that I\ntalked like a Quaker too, as readily and naturally as if I had been born\namong them; and, in a word, I passed for a Quaker among all people that\ndid not know me. I went but little abroad, but I had been so used to a\ncoach that I knew not how well to go without one; besides, I thought it\nwould be a farther disguise to me, so I told my Quaker friend one day\nthat I thought I lived too close, that I wanted air. She proposed\ntaking a hackney-coach sometimes, or a boat; but I told her I had always\nhad a coach of my own till now, and I could find in my heart to have one\nagain.\nShe seemed to think it strange at first, considering how close I lived,\nbut had nothing to say when she found I did not value the expense; so,\nin short, I resolved I would have a coach. When we came to talk of\nequipages, she extolled the having all things plain. I said so too; so I\nleft it to her direction, and a coachmaker was sent for, and he provided\nme a plain coach, no gilding or painting, lined with a light grey cloth,\nand my coachman had a coat of the same, and no lace on his hat.\nWhen all was ready I dressed myself in the dress I bought of her, and\nsaid, \"Come, I'll be a Quaker to-day, and you and I'll go abroad;\" which\nwe did, and there was not a Quaker in the town looked less like a\ncounterfeit than I did. But all this was my particular plot, to be the\nmore completely concealed, and that I might depend upon being not known,\nand yet need not be confined like a prisoner and be always in fear; so\nthat all the rest was grimace.\nWe lived here very easy and quiet, and yet I cannot say I was so in my\nmind; I was like a fish out of water. I was as gay and as young in my\ndisposition as I was at five-and-twenty; and as I had always been\ncourted, flattered, and used to love it, so I missed it in my\nconversation; and this put me many times upon looking back upon things\npast.\nI had very few moments in my life which, in their reflection, afforded\nme anything but regret: but of all the foolish actions I had to look\nback upon in my life, none looked so preposterous and so like\ndistraction, nor left so much melancholy on my mind, as my parting with\nmy friend, the merchant of Paris, and the refusing him upon such\nhonourable and just conditions as he had offered; and though on his just\n(which I called unkind) rejecting my invitation to come to him again, I\nhad looked on him with some disgust, yet now my mind run upon him\ncontinually, and the ridiculous conduct of my refusing him, and I could\nnever be satisfied about him. I flattered myself that if I could but see\nhim I could yet master him, and that he would presently forget all that\nhad passed that might be thought unkind; but as there was no room to\nimagine anything like that to be possible, I threw those thoughts off\nagain as much as I could.\nHowever, they continually returned, and I had no rest night or day for\nthinking of him, who I had forgot above eleven years. I told Amy of it,\nand we talked it over sometimes in bed, almost whole nights together. At\nlast Amy started a thing of her own head, which put it in a way of\nmanagement, though a wild one too. \"You are so uneasy, madam,\" says she,\n\"about this Mr. ----, the merchant at Paris; come,\" says she, \"if you'll\ngive me leave, I'll go over and see what's become of him.\"\n\"Not for ten thousand pounds,\" said I; \"no, nor if you met him in the\nstreet, not to offer to speak to him on my account.\" \"No,\" says Amy, \"I\nwould not speak to him at all; or if I did, I warrant you it shall not\nlook to be upon your account. I'll only inquire after him, and if he is\nin being, you shall hear of him; if not, you shall hear of him still,\nand that may be enough.\"\n\"Why,\" says I, \"if you will promise me not to enter into anything\nrelating to me with him, nor to begin any discourse at all unless he\nbegins it with you, I could almost be persuaded to let you go and try.\"\nAmy promised me all that I desired; and, in a word, to cut the story\nshort, I let her go, but tied her up to so many particulars that it was\nalmost impossible her going could signify anything; and had she intended\nto observe them, she might as well have stayed at home as have gone, for\nI charged her, if she came to see him, she should not so much as take\nnotice that she knew him again; and if he spoke to her, she should tell\nhim she was come away from me a great many years ago, and knew nothing\nwhat was become of me; that she had been come over to France six years\nago, and was married there, and lived at Calais; or to that purpose.\nAmy promised me nothing, indeed; for, as she said, it was impossible for\nher to resolve what would be fit to do, or not to do, till she was there\nupon the spot, and had found out the gentleman, or heard of him; but\nthat then, if I would trust her, as I had always done, she would answer\nfor it that she would do nothing but what should be for my interest,\nand what she would hope I should be very well pleased with.\nWith this general commission, Amy, notwithstanding she had been so\nfrighted at the sea, ventured her carcass once more by water, and away\nshe goes to France. She had four articles of confidence in charge to\ninquire after for me, and, as I found by her, she had one for herself--I\nsay, four for me, because, though her first and principal errand was to\ninform myself of my Dutch merchant, yet I gave her in charge to inquire,\nsecond, after my husband, who I left a trooper in the _gens d'armes_;\nthird, after that rogue of a Jew, whose very name I hated, and of whose\nface I had such a frightful idea that Satan himself could not\ncounterfeit a worse; and, lastly, after my foreign prince. And she\ndischarged herself very well of them all, though not so successful as I\nwished.\nAmy had a very good passage over the sea, and I had a letter from her,\nfrom Calais, in three days after she went from London. When she came to\nParis she wrote me an account, that as to her first and most important\ninquiry, which was after the Dutch merchant, her account was, that he\nhad returned to Paris, lived three years there, and quitting that city,\nwent to live at Rouen; so away goes Amy for Rouen.\nBut as she was going to bespeak a place in the coach to Rouen, she meets\nvery accidentally in the street with her gentleman, as I called\nhim--that is to say, the Prince de ----'s gentleman, who had been her\nfavourite, as above.\nYou may be sure there were several other kind things happened between\nAmy and him, as you shall hear afterwards; but the two main things were,\nfirst, that Amy inquired about his lord, and had a full account of him,\nof which presently; and, in the next place, telling him whither she was\ngoing and for what, he bade her not go yet, for that he would have a\nparticular account of it the next day from a merchant that knew him;\nand, accordingly, he brought her word the next day that he had been for\nsix years before that gone for Holland, and that he lived there still.\nThis, I say, was the first news from Amy for some time--I mean about my\nmerchant. In the meantime Amy, as I have said, inquired about the other\npersons she had in her instructions. As for the prince, the gentleman\ntold her he was gone into Germany, where his estate lay, and that he\nlived there; that he had made great inquiry after me; that he (his\ngentleman) had made all the search he had been able for me, but that he\ncould not hear of me; that he believed, if his lord had known I had been\nin England, he would have gone over to me; but that, after long inquiry,\nhe was obliged to give it over; but that he verily believed, if he could\nhave found me, he would have married me; and that he was extremely\nconcerned that he could hear nothing of me.\nI was not at all satisfied with Amy's account, but ordered her to go to\nRouen herself, which she did, and there with much difficulty (the\nperson she was directed to being dead)--I say, with much difficulty she\ncame to be informed that my merchant had lived there two years, or\nsomething more, but that, having met with a very great misfortune, he\nhad gone back to Holland, as the French merchant said, where he had\nstayed two years; but with this addition, viz., that he came back again\nto Rouen, and lived in good reputation there another year; and\nafterwards he was gone to England, and that he lived in London. But Amy\ncould by no means learn how to write to him there, till, by great\naccident, an old Dutch skipper, who had formerly served him, coming to\nRouen, Amy was told of it; and he told her that he lodged in St.\nLaurence Pountney's Lane, in London, but was to be seen every day upon\nthe Exchange, in the French walk.\nThis, Amy thought, it was time enough to tell me of when she came over;\nand, besides, she did not find this Dutch skipper till she had spent\nfour or five months and been again in Paris, and then come back to Rouen\nfor farther information. But in the meantime she wrote to me from Paris\nthat he was not to be found by any means; that he had been gone from\nParis seven or eight years; that she was told he had lived at Rouen, and\nshe was agoing thither to inquire, but that she had heard afterwards\nthat he was gone also from thence to Holland, so she did not go.\nThis, I say, was Amy's first account; and I, not satisfied with it, had\nsent her an order to go to Rouen to inquire there also, as above.\nWhile this was negotiating, and I received these accounts from Amy at\nseveral times, a strange adventure happened to me which I must mention\njust here. I had been abroad to take the air as usual with my Quaker, as\nfar as Epping Forest, and we were driving back towards London, when, on\nthe road between Bow and Mile End, two gentlemen on horseback came\nriding by, having overtaken the coach and passed it, and went forwards\ntowards London.\nThey did not ride apace though they passed the coach, for we went very\nsoftly; nor did they look into the coach at all, but rode side by side,\nearnestly talking to one another and inclining their faces sideways a\nlittle towards one another, he that went nearest the coach with his face\nfrom it, and he that was farthest from the coach with his face towards\nit, and passing in the very next tract to the coach, I could hear them\ntalk Dutch very distinctly. But it is impossible to describe the\nconfusion I was in when I plainly saw that the farthest of the two, him\nwhose face looked towards the coach, was my friend the Dutch merchant of\nParis.\nIf it had been possible to conceal my disorder from my friend the Quaker\nI would have done it, but I found she was too well acquainted with such\nthings not to take the hint. \"Dost thou understand Dutch?\" said she.\n\"Why?\" said I. \"Why,\" says she, \"it is easy to suppose that thou art a\nlittle concerned at somewhat those men say; I suppose they are talking\nof thee.\" \"Indeed, my good friend,\" said I, \"thou art mistaken this\ntime, for I know very well what they are talking of, but 'tis all about\nships and trading affairs.\" \"Well,\" says she, \"then one of them is a man\nfriend of thine, or somewhat is the case; for though thy tongue will not\nconfess it, thy face does.\"\nI was going to have told a bold lie, and said I knew nothing of them;\nbut I found it was impossible to conceal it, so I said, \"Indeed, I think\nI know the farthest of them; but I have neither spoken to him or so much\nas seen him for about eleven years.\" \"Well, then,\" says she, \"thou hast\nseen him with more than common eyes when thou didst see him, or else\nseeing him now would not be such a surprise to thee.\" \"Indeed,\" said I,\n\"it is true I am a little surprised at seeing him just now, for I\nthought he had been in quite another part of the world; and I can assure\nyou I never saw him in England in my life.\" \"Well, then, it is the more\nlikely he is come over now on purpose to seek thee.\" \"No, no,\" said I,\n\"knight-errantry is over; women are not so hard to come at that men\nshould not be able to please themselves without running from one kingdom\nto another.\" \"Well, well,\" says she, \"I would have him see thee for all\nthat, as plainly as thou hast seen him.\" \"No, but he shan't,\" says I,\n\"for I am sure he don't know me in this dress, and I'll take care he\nshan't see my face, if I can help it;\" so I held up my fan before my\nface, and she saw me resolute in that, so she pressed me no farther.\nWe had several discourses upon the subject, but still I let her know I\nwas resolved he should not know me; but at last I confessed so much,\nthat though I would not let him know who I was or where I lived, I did\nnot care if I knew where he lived and how I might inquire about him. She\ntook the hint immediately, and her servant being behind the coach, she\ncalled him to the coach-side and bade him keep his eye upon that\ngentleman, and as soon as the coach came to the end of Whitechapel he\nshould get down and follow him closely, so as to see where he put up his\nhorse, and then to go into the inn and inquire, if he could, who he was\nand where he lived.\nThe fellow followed diligently to the gate of an inn in Bishopsgate\nStreet, and seeing him go in, made no doubt but he had him fast; but was\nconfounded when, upon inquiry, he found the inn was a thoroughfare into\nanother street, and that the two gentlemen had only rode through the\ninn, as the way to the street where they were going; and so, in short,\ncame back no wiser than he went.\nMy kind Quaker was more vexed at the disappointment, at least apparently\nso, than I was; and asking the fellow if he was sure he knew the\ngentleman again if he saw him, the fellow said he had followed him so\nclose and took so much notice of him, in order to do his errand as it\nought to be done, that he was very sure he should know him again; and\nthat, besides, he was sure he should know his horse.\nThis part was, indeed, likely enough; and the kind Quaker, without\ntelling me anything of the matter, caused her man to place himself just\nat the corner of Whitechapel Church wall every Saturday in the\nafternoon, that being the day when the citizens chiefly ride abroad to\ntake the air, and there to watch all the afternoon and look for him.\nIt was not till the fifth Saturday that her man came, with a great deal\nof joy, and gave her an account that he had found out the gentleman;\nthat he was a Dutchman, but a French merchant; that he came from Rouen,\nand his name was ----, and that he lodged at Mr. ----'s, on Laurence\nPountney's Hill. I was surprised, you may be sure, when she came and\ntold me one evening all the particulars, except that of having set her\nman to watch. \"I have found out thy Dutch friend,\" says she, \"and can\ntell thee how to find him too.\" I coloured again as red as fire. \"Then\nthou hast dealt with the evil one, friend,\" said I very gravely. \"No,\nno,\" says she, \"I have no familiar; but I tell thee I have found him for\nthee, and his name is So-and-so, and he lives as above recited.\"\nI was surprised again at this, not being able to imagine how she should\ncome to know all this. However, to put me out of pain, she told me what\nshe had done. \"Well,\" said I, \"thou art very kind, but this is not\nworth thy pains; for now I know it, 'tis only to satisfy my curiosity;\nfor I shall not send to him upon any account.\" \"Be that as thou wilt,\"\nsays she. \"Besides,\" added she, \"thou art in the right to say so to me,\nfor why should I be trusted with it? Though, if I were, I assure thee I\nshould not betray thee.\" \"That's very kind,\" said I, \"and I believe\nthee; and assure thyself, if I do send to him, thou shalt know it, and\nbe trusted with it too.\"\nDuring this interval of five weeks I suffered a hundred thousand\nperplexities of mind. I was thoroughly convinced I was right as to the\nperson, that it was the man. I knew him so well, and saw him so plain, I\ncould not be deceived. I drove out again in the coach (on pretence of\nair) almost every day in hopes of seeing him again, but was never so\nlucky as to see him; and now I had made the discovery I was as far to\nseek what measures to take as I was before.\nTo send to him, or speak to him first if I should see him, so as to be\nknown to him, that I resolved not to do, if I died for it. To watch him\nabout his lodging, that was as much below my spirit as the other. So\nthat, in a word, I was at a perfect loss how to act or what to do.\nAt length came Amy's letter, with the last account which she had at\nRouen from the Dutch skipper, which, confirming the other, left me out\nof doubt that this was my man; but still no human invention could bring\nme to the speech of him in such a manner as would suit with my\nresolutions. For, after all, how did I know what his circumstances were?\nwhether married or single? And if he had a wife, I knew he was so honest\na man he would not so much as converse with me, or so much as know me if\nhe met me in the street.\nIn the next place, as he entirely neglected me, which, in short, is the\nworst way of slighting a woman, and had given no answer to my letters, I\ndid not know but he might be the same man still; so I resolved that I\ncould do nothing in it unless some fairer opportunity presented, which\nmight make my way clearer to me; for I was determined he should have no\nroom to put any more slights upon me.\nIn these thoughts I passed away near three months; till at last, being\nimpatient, I resolved to send for Amy to come over, and tell her how\nthings stood, and that I would do nothing till she came. Amy, in answer,\nsent me word she would come away with all speed, but begged of me that I\nwould enter into no engagement with him, or anybody, till she arrived;\nbut still keeping me in the dark as to the thing itself which she had to\nsay; at which I was heartily vexed, for many reasons.\nBut while all these things were transacting, and letters and answers\npassed between Amy and I a little slower than usual, at which I was not\nso well pleased as I used to be with Amy's despatch--I say, in this time\nthe following scene opened.\nIt was one afternoon, about four o'clock, my friendly Quaker and I\nsitting in her chamber upstairs, and very cheerful, chatting together\n(for she was the best company in the world), when somebody ringing\nhastily at the door, and no servant just then in the way, she ran down\nherself to the door, when a gentleman appears, with a footman attending,\nand making some apologies, which she did not thoroughly understand, he\nspeaking but broken English, he asked to speak with me, by the very same\nname that I went by in her house, which, by the way, was not the name\nthat he had known me by.\nShe, with very civil language, in her way, brought him into a very\nhandsome parlour below stairs, and said she would go and see whether the\nperson who lodged in her house owned that name, and he should hear\nfarther.\nI was a little surprised, even before I knew anything of who it was, my\nmind foreboding the thing as it happened (whence that arises let the\nnaturalists explain to us); but I was frighted and ready to die when my\nQuaker came up all gay and crowing. \"There,\" says she, \"is the Dutch\nFrench merchant come to see thee.\" I could not speak one word to her nor\nstir off of my chair, but sat as motionless as a statue. She talked a\nthousand pleasant things to me, but they made no impression on me. At\nlast she pulled me and teased me. \"Come, come,\" says she, \"be thyself,\nand rouse up. I must go down again to him; what shall I say to him?\"\n\"Say,\" said I, \"that you have no such body in the house.\" \"That I\ncannot do,\" says she, \"because it is not the truth. Besides, I have\nowned thou art above. Come, come, go down with me.\" \"Not for a thousand\nguineas,\" said I. \"Well,\" says she, \"I'll go and tell him thou wilt come\nquickly.\" So, without giving me time to answer her, away she goes.\nA million of thoughts circulated in my head while she was gone, and what\nto do I could not tell; I saw no remedy but I must speak with him, but\nwould have given \u00a3500 to have shunned it; yet had I shunned it, perhaps\nthen I would have given \u00a3500 again that I had seen him. Thus fluctuating\nand unconcluding were my thoughts, what I so earnestly desired I\ndeclined when it offered itself; and what now I pretended to decline was\nnothing but what I had been at the expense of \u00a340 or \u00a350 to send Amy to\nFrance for, and even without any view, or, indeed, any rational\nexpectation of bringing it to pass; and what for half a year before I\nwas so uneasy about that I could not be quiet night or day till Amy\nproposed to go over to inquire after him. In short, my thoughts were all\nconfused and in the utmost disorder. I had once refused and rejected\nhim, and I repented it heartily; then I had taken ill his silence, and\nin my mind rejected him again, but had repented that too. Now I had\nstooped so low as to send after him into France, which if he had known,\nperhaps, he had never come after me; and should I reject him a third\ntime! On the other hand, he had repented too, in his turn, perhaps, and\nnot knowing how I had acted, either in stooping to send in search after\nhim or in the wickeder part of my life, was come over hither to seek me\nagain; and I might take him, perhaps, with the same advantages as I\nmight have done before, and would I now be backward to see him! Well,\nwhile I was in this hurry my friend the Quaker comes up again, and\nperceiving the confusion I was in, she runs to her closet and fetched me\na little pleasant cordial; but I would not taste it. \"Oh,\" says she, \"I\nunderstand thee. Be not uneasy; I'll give thee something shall take off\nall the smell of it; if he kisses thee a thousand times he shall be no\nwiser.\" I thought to myself, \"Thou art perfectly acquainted with affairs\nof this nature; I think you must govern me now;\" so I began to incline\nto go down with her. Upon that I took the cordial, and she gave me a\nkind of spicy preserve after it, whose flavour was so strong, and yet so\ndeliciously pleasant, that it would cheat the nicest smelling, and it\nleft not the least taint of the cordial on the breath.\nWell, after this, though with some hesitation still, I went down a pair\nof back-stairs with her, and into a dining-room, next to the parlour in\nwhich he was; but there I halted, and desired she would let me consider\nof it a little. \"Well, do so,\" says she, and left me with more readiness\nthan she did before. \"Do consider, and I'll come to thee again.\"\nThough I hung back with an awkwardness that was really unfeigned, yet\nwhen she so readily left me I thought it was not so kind, and I began to\nthink she should have pressed me still on to it; so foolishly backward\nare we to the thing which, of all the world, we most desire; mocking\nourselves with a feigned reluctance, when the negative would be death to\nus. But she was too cunning for me; for while I, as it were, blamed her\nin my mind for not carrying me to him, though, at the same time, I\nappeared backward to see him, on a sudden she unlocks the folding-doors,\nwhich looked into the next parlour, and throwing them open. \"There,\"\nsays she (ushering him in), \"is the person who, I suppose, thou\ninquirest for;\" and the same moment, with a kind decency, she retired,\nand that so swift that she would not give us leave hardly to know which\nway she went.\nI stood up, but was confounded with a sudden inquiry in my thoughts how\nI should receive him, and with a resolution as swift as lightning, in\nanswer to it, said to myself, \"It shall be coldly.\" So on a sudden I put\non an air of stiffness and ceremony, and held it for about two minutes;\nbut it was with great difficulty.\nHe restrained himself too, on the other hand, came towards me gravely,\nand saluted me in form; but it was, it seems, upon his supposing the\nQuaker was behind him, whereas she, as I said, understood things too\nwell, and had retired as if she had vanished, that we might have full\nfreedom; for, as she said afterwards, she supposed we had seen one\nanother before, though it might have been a great while ago.\nWhatever stiffness I had put on my behaviour to him, I was surprised in\nmy mind, and angry at his, and began to wonder what kind of a\nceremonious meeting it was to be. However, after he perceived the woman\nwas gone he made a kind of a hesitation, looking a little round him.\n\"Indeed,\" said he, \"I thought the gentlewoman was not withdrawn;\" and\nwith that he took me in his arms and kissed me three or four times; but\nI, that was prejudiced to the last degree with the coldness of his first\nsalutes, when I did not know the cause of it, could not be thoroughly\ncleared of the prejudice though I did know the cause, and thought that\neven his return, and taking me in his arms, did not seem to have the\nsame ardour with which he used to receive me, and this made me behave to\nhim awkwardly, and I know not how for a good while; but this by the way.\nHe began with a kind of an ecstasy upon the subject of his finding me\nout; how it was possible that he should have been four years in England,\nand had used all the ways imaginable, and could never so much as have\nthe least intimation of me, or of any one like me; and that it was now\nabove two years that he had despaired of it, and had given over all\ninquiry; and that now he should chop upon me, as it were, unlooked and\nunsought for.\nI could easily have accounted for his not finding me if I had but set\ndown the detail of my real retirement; but I gave it a new, and indeed a\ntruly hypocritical turn. I told him that any one that knew the manner\nof life I led might account for his not finding me; that the retreat I\nhad taken up would have rendered it a hundred thousand to one odds that\nhe ever found me at all; that, as I had abandoned all conversation,\ntaken up another name, lived remote from London, and had not preserved\none acquaintance in it, it was no wonder he had not met with me; that\neven my dress would let him see that I did not desire to be known by\nanybody.\nThen he asked if I had not received some letters from him. I told him\nno, he had not thought fit to give me the civility of an answer to the\nlast I wrote to him, and he could not suppose I should expect a return\nafter a silence in a case where I had laid myself so low and exposed\nmyself in a manner I had never been used to; that indeed I had never\nsent for any letters after that to the place where I had ordered his to\nbe directed; and that, being so justly, as I thought, punished for my\nweakness, I had nothing to do but to repent of being a fool, after I had\nstrictly adhered to a just principle before; that, however, as what I\ndid was rather from motions of gratitude than from real weakness,\nhowever it might be construed by him, I had the satisfaction in myself\nof having fully discharged the debt. I added, that I had not wanted\noccasions of all the seeming advancements which the pretended felicity\nof a marriage life was usually set off with, and might have been what I\ndesired not to name; but that, however low I had stooped to him, I had\nmaintained the dignity of female liberty against all the attacks either\nof pride or avarice; and that I had been infinitely obliged to him for\ngiving me an opportunity to discharge the only obligation that\nendangered me, without subjecting me to the consequence; and that I\nhoped he was satisfied I had paid the debt by offering myself to be\nchained, but was infinitely debtor to him another way for letting me\nremain free.\nHe was so confounded at this discourse that he knew not what to say, and\nfor a good while he stood mute indeed; but recovering himself a little,\nhe said I run out into a discourse he hoped was over and forgotten, and\nhe did not intend to revive it; that he knew I had not had his letters,\nfor that, when he first came to England, he had been at the place to\nwhich they were directed, and found them all lying there but one, and\nthat the people had not known how to deliver them; that he thought to\nhave had a direction there how to find me, but had the mortification to\nbe told that they did not so much as know who I was; that he was under a\ngreat disappointment; and that I ought to know, in answer to all my\nresentments, that he had done a long and, he hoped, a sufficient penance\nfor the slight that I had supposed he had put upon me; that it was true\n(and I could not suppose any other) that upon the repulse I had given\nthem in a case so circumstanced as his was, and after such earnest\nentreaties and such offers as he had made me, he went away with a mind\nheartily grieved and full of resentment; that he had looked back on the\ncrime he had committed with some regret, but on the cruelty of my\ntreatment of the poor infant I went with at that time with the utmost\ndetestation, and that this made him unable to send an agreeable answer\nto me; for which reason he had sent none at all for some time; but that\nin about six or seven months, those resentments wearing off by the\nreturn of his affection to me and his concern in the poor child ----.\nThere he stopped, and indeed tears stood in his eyes; while in a\nparenthesis he only added, and to this minute he did not know whether it\nwas dead or alive. He then went on: Those resentments wearing off, he\nsent me several letters--I think he said seven or eight--but received no\nanswer; that then his business obliging him to go to Holland, he came to\nEngland, as in his way, but found, as above, that his letters had not\nbeen called for, but that he left them at the house after paying the\npostage of them; and going then back to France, he was yet uneasy, and\ncould not refrain the knight-errantry of coming to England again to seek\nme, though he knew neither where or of who to inquire for me, being\ndisappointed in all his inquiries before; that he had yet taken up his\nresidence here, firmly believing that one time or other he should meet\nme, or hear of me, and that some kind chance would at last throw him in\nmy way; that he had lived thus above four years, and though his hopes\nwere vanished, yet he had not any thoughts of removing any more in the\nworld, unless it should be at last, as it is with other old men, he\nmight have some inclination to go home to die in his own country, but\nthat he had not thought of it yet; that if I would consider all these\nsteps, I would find some reasons to forget his first resentments, and to\nthink that penance, as he called it, which he had undergone in search of\nme an _amende honorable_, in reparation of the affront given to the\nkindness of my letter of invitation; and that we might at last make\nourselves some satisfaction on both sides for the mortifications past.\nI confess I could not hear all this without being moved very much, and\nyet I continued a little stiff and formal too a good while. I told him\nthat before I could give him any reply to the rest of his discourse I\nought to give him the satisfaction of telling him that his son was\nalive, and that indeed, since I saw him so concerned about it, and\nmention it with such affection, I was sorry that I had not found out\nsome way or other to let him know it sooner; but that I thought, after\nhis slighting the mother, as above, he had summed up his affection to\nthe child in the letter he had wrote to me about providing for it; and\nthat he had, as other fathers often do, looked upon it as a birth which,\nbeing out of the way, was to be forgotten, as its beginning was to be\nrepented of; that in providing sufficiently for it he had done more than\nall such fathers used to do, and might be well satisfied with it.\nHe answered me that he should have been very glad if I had been so good\nbut to have given him the satisfaction of knowing the poor unfortunate\ncreature was yet alive, and he would have taken some care of it upon\nhimself, and particularly by owning it for a legitimate child, which,\nwhere nobody had known to the contrary, would have taken off the infamy\nwhich would otherwise cleave to it, and so the child should not itself\nhave known anything of its own disaster; but that he feared it was now\ntoo late.\nHe added that I might see by all his conduct since that what unhappy\nmistake drew him into the thing at first, and that he would have been\nvery far from doing the injury to me, or being instrumental to add _une\nmiserable_ (that was his word) to the world, if he had not been drawn\ninto it by the hopes he had of making me his own; but that, if it was\npossible to rescue the child from the consequences of its unhappy birth,\nhe hoped I would give him leave to do it, and he would let me see that\nhe had both means and affection still to do it; and that,\nnotwithstanding all the misfortunes that had befallen him, nothing that\nbelonged to him, especially by a mother he had such a concern for as he\nhad for me, should ever want what he was in a condition to do for it.\nI could not hear this without being sensibly touched with it. I was\nashamed that he should show that he had more real affection for the\nchild, though he had never seen it in his life, than I that bore it, for\nindeed I did not love the child, nor love to see it; and though I had\nprovided for it, yet I did it by Amy's hand, and had not seen it above\ntwice in four years, being privately resolved that when it grew up it\nshould not be able to call me mother.\nHowever, I told him the child was taken care of, and that he need not be\nanxious about it, unless he suspected that I had less affection for it\nthan he that had never seen it in his life; that he knew what I had\npromised him to do for it, namely, to give it the thousand pistoles\nwhich I had offered him, and which he had declined; that I assured him I\nhad made my will, and that I had left it \u00a35000, and the interest of it\ntill he should come of age, if I died before that time; that I would\nstill be as good as that to it; but if he had a mind to take it from me\ninto his government, I would not be against it; and to satisfy him that\nI would perform what I said, I would cause the child to be delivered to\nhim, and the \u00a35000 also for its support, depending upon it that he would\nshow himself a father to it by what I saw of his affection to it now.\nI had observed that he had hinted two or three times in his discourse,\nhis having had misfortunes in the world, and I was a little surprised at\nthe expression, especially at the repeating it so often; but I took no\nnotice of that part yet.\nHe thanked me for my kindness to the child with a tenderness which\nshowed the sincerity of all he had said before, and which increased the\nregret with which, as I said, I looked back on the little affection I\nhad showed to the poor child. He told me he did not desire to take him\nfrom me, but so as to introduce him into the world as his own, which he\ncould still do, having lived absent from his other children (for he had\ntwo sons and a daughter which were brought up at Nimeguen, in Holland,\nwith a sister of his) so long that he might very well send another son\nof ten years old to be bred up with them, and suppose his mother to be\ndead or alive, as he found occasion; and that, as I had resolved to do\nso handsomely for the child, he would add to it something considerable,\nthough, having had some great disappointments (repeating the words), he\ncould not do for it as he would otherwise have done.\nI then thought myself obliged to take notice of his having so often\nmentioned his having met with disappointments. I told him I was very\nsorry to hear he had met with anything afflicting to him in the world;\nthat I would not have anything belonging to me add to his loss, or\nweaken him in what he might do for his other children; and that I would\nnot agree to his having the child away, though the proposal was\ninfinitely to the child's advantage, unless he would promise me that the\nwhole expense should be mine, and that, if he did not think \u00a35000 enough\nfor the child, I would give it more.\nWe had so much discourse upon this and the old affairs that it took up\nall our time at his first visit. I was a little importunate with him to\ntell me how he came to find me out, but he put it off for that time,\nand only obtaining my leave to visit me again, he went away; and indeed\nmy heart was so full with what he had said already that I was glad when\nhe went away. Sometimes I was full of tenderness and affection for him,\nand especially when he expressed himself so earnestly and passionately\nabout the child; other times I was crowded with doubts about his\ncircumstances. Sometimes I was terrified with apprehensions lest, if I\nshould come into a close correspondence with him, he should any way come\nto hear what kind of life I had led at Pall Mall and in other places,\nand it might make me miserable afterwards; from which last thought I\nconcluded that I had better repulse him again than receive him. All\nthese thoughts, and many more, crowded in so fast, I say, upon me that I\nwanted to give vent to them and get rid of him, and was very glad when\nhe was gone away.\nWe had several meetings after this, in which still we had so many\npreliminaries to go through that we scarce ever bordered upon the main\nsubject. Once, indeed, he said something of it, and I put it off with a\nkind of a jest. \"Alas!\" says I, \"those things are out of the question\nnow; 'tis almost two ages since those things were talked between us,\"\nsays I. \"You see I am grown an old woman since that.\" Another time he\ngave a little push at it again, and I laughed again. \"Why, what dost\nthou talk of?\" said I in a formal way. \"Dost thou not see I am turned\nQuaker? I cannot speak of those things now.\" \"Why,\" says he, \"the\nQuakers marry as well as other people, and love one another as well.\nBesides,\" says he, \"the Quakers' dress does not ill become you,\" and so\njested with me again, and so it went off for a third time. However, I\nbegan to be kind to him in process of time, as they call it, and we grew\nvery intimate; and if the following accident had not unluckily\nintervened, I had certainly married him, or consented to marry him, the\nvery next time he had asked me.\nI had long waited for a letter from Amy, who, it seems, was just at that\ntime gone to Rouen the second time, to make her inquiries about him; and\nI received a letter from her at this unhappy juncture, which gave me the\nfollowing account of my business:--\nI. That for my gentleman, who I had now, as I may say, in my arms, she\nsaid he had been gone from Paris, as I have hinted, having met with some\ngreat losses and misfortunes; that he had been in Holland on that very\naccount, whither he had also carried his children; that he was after\nthat settled for some time at Rouen; that she had been at Rouen, and\nfound there (by a mere accident), from a Dutch skipper, that he was at\nLondon, had been there above three years; that he was to be found upon\nthe Exchange, on the French walk; and that he lodged at St. Laurence\nPountney's Lane, and the like; so Amy said she supposed I might soon\nfind him out, but that she doubted he was poor, and not worth looking\nafter. This she did because of the next clause, which the jade had most\nmind to on many accounts.\nII. That as to the Prince ----; that, as above, he was gone into\nGermany, where his estate lay; that he had quitted the French service,\nand lived retired; that she had seen his gentleman, who remained at\nParis to solicit his arrears, &c.; that he had given her an account how\nhis lord had employed him to inquire for me and find me out, as above,\nand told her what pains he had taken to find me; that he had understood\nthat I was gone to England; that he once had orders to go to England to\nfind me; that his lord had resolved, if he could have found me, to have\ncalled me a countess, and so have married me, and have carried me into\nGermany with him; and that his commission was still to assure me that\nthe prince would marry me if I would come to him, and that he would send\nhim an account that he had found me, and did not doubt but he would have\norders to come over to England to attend me in a figure suitable to my\nquality.\nAmy, an ambitious jade, who knew my weakest part--namely, that I loved\ngreat things, and that I loved to be flattered and courted--said\nabundance of kind things upon this occasion, which she knew were\nsuitable to me and would prompt my vanity; and talked big of the\nprince's gentleman having orders to come over to me with a procuration\nto marry me by proxy (as princes usually do in like cases), and to\nfurnish me with an equipage, and I know not how many fine things; but\ntold me, withal, that she had not yet let him know that she belonged to\nme still, or that she knew where to find me, or to write to me; because\nshe was willing to see the bottom of it, and whether it was a reality or\na gasconade. She had indeed told him that, if he had any such\ncommission, she would endeavour to find me out, but no more.\nIII. For the Jew, she assured me that she had not been able to come at a\ncertainty what was become of him, or in what part of the world he was;\nbut that thus much she had learned from good hands, that he had\ncommitted a crime, in being concerned in a design to rob a rich banker\nat Paris; and that he was fled, and had not been heard of there for\nabove six years.\nIV. For that of my husband, the brewer, she learned, that being\ncommanded into the field upon an occasion of some action in Flanders, he\nwas wounded at the battle of Mons, and died of his wounds in the\nHospital of the Invalids; so there was an end of my four inquiries,\nwhich I sent her over to make.\nThis account of the prince, and the return of his affection to me, with\nall the flattering great things which seemed to come along with it; and\nespecially as they came gilded and set out by my maid Amy--I say this\naccount of the prince came to me in a very unlucky hour, and in the very\ncrisis of my affair.\nThe merchant and I had entered into close conferences upon the grand\naffair. I had left off talking my platonics, and of my independency, and\nbeing a free woman, as before; and he having cleared up my doubts too,\nas to his circumstances and the misfortunes he had spoken of, I had gone\nso far that we had begun to consider where we should live, and in what\nfigure, what equipage, what house, and the like.\nI had made some harangues upon the delightful retirement of a country\nlife, and how we might enjoy ourselves so effectually without the\nencumbrances of business and the world; but all this was grimace, and\npurely because I was afraid to make any public appearance in the world,\nfor fear some impertinent person of quality should chop upon me again\nand cry out, \"Roxana, Roxana, by ----!\" with an oath, as had been done\nbefore.\nMy merchant, bred to business and used to converse among men of\nbusiness, could hardly tell how to live without it; at least it appeared\nhe should be like a fish out of water, uneasy and dying. But, however,\nhe joined with me; only argued that we might live as near London as we\ncould, that he might sometimes come to 'Change and hear how the world\nshould go abroad, and how it fared with his friends and his children.\nI answered that if he chose still to embarrass himself with business, I\nsupposed it would be more to his satisfaction to be in his own country,\nand where his family was so well known, and where his children also\nwere.\nHe smiled at the thoughts of that, and let me know that he should be\nvery willing to embrace such an offer; but that he could not expect it\nof me, to whom England was, to be sure, so naturalised now as that it\nwould be carrying me out of my native country, which he would not desire\nby any means, however agreeable it might be to him.\nI told him he was mistaken in me; that as I had told him so much of a\nmarried state being a captivity, and the family being a house of\nbondage, that when I married I expected to be but an upper servant; so,\nif I did notwithstanding submit to it, I hoped he should see I knew how\nto act the servant's part, and do everything to oblige my master; that\nif I did not resolve to go with him wherever he desired to go, he might\ndepend I would never have him. \"And did I not,\" said I, \"offer myself to\ngo with you to the East Indies?\"\nAll this while this was indeed but a copy of my countenance; for, as my\ncircumstances would not admit of my stay in London, at least not so as\nto appear publicly, I resolved, if I took him, to live remote in the\ncountry, or go out of England with him.\nBut in an evil hour, just now came Amy's letter, in the very middle of\nall these discourses; and the fine things she had said about the prince\nbegan to make strange work with me. The notion of being a princess, and\ngoing over to live where all that had happened here would have been\nquite sunk out of knowledge as well as out of memory (conscience\nexcepted), was mighty taking. The thoughts of being surrounded with\ndomestics, honoured with titles, be called her Highness, and live in all\nthe splendour of a court, and, which was still more, in the arms of a\nman of such rank, and who, I knew, loved and valued me--all this, in a\nword, dazzled my eyes, turned my head, and I was as truly crazed and\ndistracted for about a fortnight as most of the people in Bedlam, though\nperhaps not quite so far gone.\nWhen my gentleman came to me the next time I had no notion of him; I\nwished I had never received him at all. In short, I resolved to have no\nmore to say to him, so I feigned myself indisposed; and though I did\ncome down to him and speak to him a little, yet I let him see that I was\nso ill that I was (as we say) no company, and that it would be kind in\nhim to give me leave to quit him for that time.\nThe next morning he sent a footman to inquire how I did; and I let him\nknow I had a violent cold, and was very ill with it. Two days after he\ncame again, and I let him see me again, but feigned myself so hoarse\nthat I could not speak to be heard, and that it was painful to me but to\nwhisper; and, in a word, I held him in this suspense near three weeks.\nDuring this time I had a strange elevation upon my mind; and the prince,\nor the spirit of him, had such a possession of me that I spent most of\nthis time in the realising all the great things of a life with the\nprince, to my mind pleasing my fancy with the grandeur I was supposing\nmyself to enjoy, and with wickedly studying in what manner to put off\nthis gentleman and be rid of him for ever.\nI cannot but say that sometimes the baseness of the action stuck hard\nwith me; the honour and sincerity with which he had always treated me,\nand, above all, the fidelity he had showed me at Paris, and that I owed\nmy life to him--I say, all these stared in my face, and I frequently\nargued with myself upon the obligation I was under to him, and how base\nwould it be now too, after so many obligations and engagements, to cast\nhim off.\nBut the title of highness, and of a princess, and all those fine things,\nas they came in, weighed down all this; and the sense of gratitude\nvanished as if it had been a shadow.\nAt other times I considered the wealth I was mistress of; that I was\nable to live like a princess, though not a princess; and that my\nmerchant (for he had told me all the affair of his misfortunes) was far\nfrom being poor, or even mean; that together we were able to make up an\nestate of between three and four thousand pounds a year, which was in\nitself equal to some princes abroad. But though this was true, yet the\nname of princess, and the flutter of it--in a word, the pride--weighed\nthem down; and all these arguings generally ended to the disadvantage of\nmy merchant; so that, in short, I resolved to drop him, and give him a\nfinal answer at his next coming; namely, that something had happened in\nmy affairs which had caused me to alter my measures unexpectedly, and,\nin a word, to desire him to trouble himself no farther.\nI think, verily, this rude treatment of him was for some time the effect\nof a violent fermentation in my blood; for the very motion which the\nsteady contemplation of my fancied greatness had put my spirits into had\nthrown me into a kind of fever, and I scarce knew what I did.\nI have wondered since that it did not make me mad; nor do I now think it\nstrange to hear of those who have been quite lunatic with their pride,\nthat fancied themselves queens and empresses, and have made their\nattendants serve them upon the knee, given visitors their hand to kiss,\nand the like; for certainly, if pride will not turn the brain, nothing\ncan.\nHowever, the next time my gentleman came, I had not courage enough, or\nnot ill nature enough, to treat him in the rude manner I had resolved to\ndo, and it was very well I did not; for soon after, I had another letter\nfrom Amy, in which was the mortifying news, and indeed surprising to me,\nthat my prince (as I, with a secret pleasure, had called him) was very\nmuch hurt by a bruise he had received in hunting and engaging with a\nwild boar, a cruel and desperate sport which the noblemen of Germany, it\nseems, much delight in.\nThis alarmed me indeed, and the more because Amy wrote me word that his\ngentleman was gone away express to him, not without apprehensions that\nhe should find his master was dead before his coming home; but that he\n(the gentleman) had promised her that as soon as he arrived he would\nsend back the same courier to her with an account of his master's\nhealth, and of the main affair; and that he had obliged Amy to stay at\nParis fourteen days for his return; she having promised him before to\nmake it her business to go to England and to find me out for his lord if\nhe sent her such orders; and he was to send her a bill for fifty\npistoles for her journey. So Amy told me she waited for the answer.\nThis was a blow to me several ways; for, first, I was in a state of\nuncertainty as to his person, whether he was alive or dead; and I was\nnot unconcerned in that part, I assure you; for I had an inexpressible\naffection remaining for his person, besides the degree to which it was\nrevived by the view of a firmer interest in him. But this was not all,\nfor in losing him I forever lost the prospect of all the gaiety and\nglory that had made such an impression upon my imagination.\nIn this state of uncertainty, I say, by Amy's letter, I was like still\nto remain another fortnight; and had I now continued the resolution of\nusing my merchant in the rude manner I once intended, I had made perhaps\na sorry piece of work of it indeed, and it was very well my heart failed\nme as it did.\nHowever, I treated him with a great many shuffles, and feigned stories\nto keep him off from any closer conferences than we had already had,\nthat I might act afterwards as occasion might offer, one way or other.\nBut that which mortified me most was, that Amy did not write, though the\nfourteen days were expired. At last, to my great surprise, when I was,\nwith the utmost impatience, looking out at the window, expecting the\npostman that usually brought the foreign letters--I say I was agreeably\nsurprised to see a coach come to the yard-gate where we lived, and my\nwoman Amy alight out of it and come towards the door, having the\ncoachman bringing several bundles after her.\nI flew like lightning downstairs to speak to her, but was soon damped\nwith her news. \"Is the prince alive or dead, Amy?\" says I. She spoke\ncoldly and slightly. \"He is alive, madam,\" said she. \"But it is not much\nmatter; I had as lieu he had been dead.\" So we went upstairs again to my\nchamber, and there we began a serious discourse of the whole matter.\nFirst, she told me a long story of his being hurt by a wild boar, and of\nthe condition he was reduced to, so that every one expected he should\ndie, the anguish of the wound having thrown him into a fever, with\nabundance of circumstances too long to relate here; how he recovered of\nthat extreme danger, but continued very weak; how the gentleman had been\n_homme de parole_, and had sent back the courier as punctually as if it\nhad been to the king; that he had given a long account of his lord, and\nof his illness and recovery; but the sum of the matter, as to me, was,\nthat as to the lady, his lord was turned penitent, was under some vows\nfor his recovery, and could not think any more on that affair; and\nespecially, the lady being gone, and that it had not been offered to\nher, so there was no breach of honour; but that his lord was sensible of\nthe good offices of Mrs. Amy, and had sent her the fifty pistoles for\nher trouble, as if she had really gone the journey.\nI was, I confess, hardly able to bear the first surprise of this\ndisappointment. Amy saw it, and gapes out (as was her way), \"Lawd,\nmadam! never be concerned at it; you see he is gotten among the priests,\nand I suppose they have saucily imposed some penance upon him, and, it\nmay be, sent him of an errand barefoot to some Madonna or N\u00f4tredame, or\nother; and he is off of his amours for the present. I'll warrant you\nhe'll be as wicked again as ever he was when he is got thorough well,\nand gets but out of their hands again. I hate this out-o'-season\nrepentance. What occasion had he, in his repentance, to be off of taking\na good wife? I should have been glad to see you have been a princess,\nand all that; but if it can't be, never afflict yourself; you are rich\nenough to be a princess to yourself; you don't want him, that's the best\nof it.\"\nWell, I cried for all that, and was heartily vexed, and that a great\nwhile; but as Amy was always at my elbow, and always jogging it out of\nmy head with her mirth and her wit, it wore off again.\nThen I told Amy all the story of my merchant, and how he had found me\nout when I was in such a concern to find him; how it was true that he\nlodged in St. Laurence Pountney's Lane; and how I had had all the story\nof his misfortune, which she had heard of, in which he had lost above\n\u00a38000 sterling; and that he had told me frankly of it before she had\nsent me any account of it, or at least before I had taken any notice\nthat I had heard of it.\nAmy was very joyful at that part. \"Well, madam, then,\" says Amy, \"what\nneed you value the story of the prince, and going I know not whither\ninto Germany to lay your bones in another world, and learn the devil's\nlanguage, called High Dutch? You are better here by half,\" says Amy.\n\"Lawd, madam!\" says she; \"why, are you not as rich as Croesus?\"\nWell, it was a great while still before I could bring myself off of this\nfancied sovereignty; and I, that was so willing once to be mistress to a\nking, was now ten thousand times more fond of being wife to a prince.\nSo fast a hold has pride and ambition upon our minds, that when once it\ngets admission, nothing is so chimerical but, under this possession, we\ncan form ideas of in our fancy and realise to our imagination. Nothing\ncan be so ridiculous as the simple steps we take in such cases; a man or\na woman becomes a mere _malade imaginaire_, and, I believe, may as\neasily die with grief or run mad with joy (as the affair in his fancy\nappears right or wrong) as if all was real, and actually under the\nmanagement of the person.\nI had indeed two assistants to deliver me from this snare, and these\nwere, first, Amy, who knew my disease, but was able to do nothing as to\nthe remedy; the second, the merchant, who really brought the remedy, but\nknew nothing of the distemper.\nI remember, when all these disorders were upon my thoughts, in one of\nthe visits my friend the merchant made me, he took notice that he\nperceived I was under some unusual disorder; he believed, he said, that\nmy distemper, whatever it was, lay much in my head, and it being summer\nweather and very hot, proposed to me to go a little way into the air.\nI started at his expression. \"What!\" says I; \"do you think, then, that I\nam crazed? You should, then, propose a madhouse for my cure.\" \"No, no,\"\nsays he, \"I do not mean anything like that; I hope the head may be\ndistempered and not the brain.\" Well, I was too sensible that he was\nright, for I knew I had acted a strange, wild kind of part with him; but\nhe insisted upon it, and pressed me to go into the country. I took him\nshort again. \"What need you,\" says I, \"send me out of your way? It is in\nyour power to be less troubled with me, and with less inconvenience to\nus both.\"\nHe took that ill, and told me I used to have a better opinion of his\nsincerity, and desired to know what he had done to forfeit my charity.\nI mention this only to let you see how far I had gone in my measures of\nquitting him--that is to say, how near I was of showing him how base,\nungrateful, and how vilely I could act; but I found I had carried the\njest far enough, and that a little matter might have made him sick of me\nagain, as he was before; so I began by little and little to change my\nway of talking to him, and to come to discourse to the purpose again as\nwe had done before.\nA while after this, when we were very merry and talking familiarly\ntogether, he called me, with an air of particular satisfaction, his\nprincess. I coloured at the word, for it indeed touched me to the quick;\nbut he knew nothing of the reason of my being touched with it. \"What\nd'ye mean by that?\" said I. \"Nay,\" says he, \"I mean nothing but that you\nare a princess to me.\" \"Well,\" says I, \"as to that I am content, and yet\nI could tell you I might have been a princess if I would have quitted\nyou, and believe I could be so still.\" \"It is not in my power to make\nyou a princess,\" says he, \"but I can easily make you a lady here in\nEngland, and a countess too if you will go out of it.\"\nI heard both with a great deal of satisfaction, for my pride remained\nthough it had been balked, and I thought with myself that this proposal\nwould make me some amends for the loss of the title that had so tickled\nmy imagination another way, and I was impatient to understand what he\nmeant, but I would not ask him by any means; so it passed off for that\ntime.\nWhen he was gone I told Amy what he had said, and Amy was as impatient\nto know the manner how it could be as I was; but the next time\n(perfectly unexpected to me) he told me that he had accidentally\nmentioned a thing to me last time he was with me, having not the least\nthought of the thing itself; but not knowing but such a thing might be\nof some weight to me, and that it might bring me respect among people\nwhere I might appear, he had thought since of it, and was resolved to\nask me about it.\nI made light of it, and told him that, as he knew I had chosen a retired\nlife, it was of no value to me to be called lady or countess either; but\nthat if he intended to drag me, as I might call it, into the world\nagain, perhaps it might be agreeable to him; but, besides that, I could\nnot judge of the thing, because I did not understand how either of them\nwas to be done.\nHe told me that money purchased titles of honour in almost all parts of\nthe world, though money could not give principles of honour, they must\ncome by birth and blood; that, however, titles sometimes assist to\nelevate the soul and to infuse generous principles into the mind, and\nespecially where there was a good foundation laid in the persons; that\nhe hoped we should neither of us misbehave if we came to it; and that as\nwe knew how to wear a title without undue elevations, so it might sit as\nwell upon us as on another; that as to England, he had nothing to do\nbut to get an act of naturalisation in his favour, and he knew where to\npurchase a patent for baronet--that is say, to have the honour and title\ntransferred to him; but if I intended to go abroad with him, he had a\nnephew, the son of his eldest brother, who had the title of count, with\nthe estate annexed, which was but small, and that he had frequently\noffered to make it over to him for a thousand pistoles, which was not a\ngreat deal of money, and considering it was in the family already, he\nwould, upon my being willing, purchase it immediately.\nI told him I liked the last best, but then I would not let him buy it\nunless he would let me pay the thousand pistoles. \"No, no,\" says he, \"I\nrefused a thousand pistoles that I had more right to have accepted than\nthat, and you shall not be at so much expense now.\" \"Yes,\" says I, \"you\ndid refuse it, and perhaps repented it afterwards.\" \"I never\ncomplained,\" said he. \"But I did,\" says I, \"and often repented it for\nyou.\" \"I do not understand you,\" says he. \"Why,\" said I, \"I repented\nthat I suffered you to refuse it.\" \"Well, well,\" said he, \"we may talk\nof that hereafter, when you shall resolve which part of the world you\nwill make your settled residence in.\" Here he talked very handsomely to\nme, and for a good while together; how it had been his lot to live all\nhis days out of his native country, and to be often shifting and\nchanging the situation of his affairs; and that I myself had not always\nhad a fixed abode, but that now, as neither of us was very young, he\nfancied I would be for taking up our abode where, if possible, we might\nremove no more; that as to his part, he was of that opinion entirely,\nonly with this exception, that the choice of the place should be mine,\nfor that all places in the world were alike to him, only with this\nsingle addition, namely, that I was with him.\nI heard him with a great deal of pleasure, as well for his being willing\nto give me the choice as for that I resolved to live abroad, for the\nreason I have mentioned already, namely, lest I should at any time be\nknown in England, and all that story of Roxana and the balls should come\nout; as also I was not a little tickled with the satisfaction of being\nstill a countess, though I could not be a princess.\nI told Amy all this story, for she was still my privy councillor; but\nwhen I asked her opinion, she made me laugh heartily. \"Now, which of the\ntwo shall I take, Amy?\" said I. \"Shall I be a lady--that is, a baronet's\nlady in England, or a countess in Holland?\" The ready-witted jade, that\nknew the pride of my temper too, almost as well as I did myself,\nanswered (without the least hesitation), \"Both, madam. Which of them?\"\nsays she (repeating the words). \"Why not both of them? and then you will\nbe really a princess; for, sure, to be a lady in English and a countess\nin Dutch may make a princess in High Dutch.\" Upon the whole, though Amy\nwas in jest, she put the thought into my head, and I resolved that, in\nshort, I would be both of them, which I managed as you shall hear.\nFirst, I seemed to resolve that I would live and settle in England, only\nwith this condition, namely, that I would not live in London. I\npretended that it would choke me up; that I wanted breath when I was in\nLondon, but that anywhere else I would be satisfied; and then I asked\nhim whether any seaport town in England would not suit him; because I\nknew, though he seemed to leave off, he would always love to be among\nbusiness, and conversing with men of business; and I named several\nplaces, either nearest for business with France or with Holland; as\nDover or Southampton, for the first; and Ipswich, or Yarmouth, or Hull\nfor the last; but I took care that we would resolve upon nothing; only\nby this it seemed to be certain that we should live in England.\nIt was time now to bring things to a conclusion, and so in about six\nweeks' time more we settled all our preliminaries; and, among the rest,\nhe let me know that he should have the bill for his naturalisation\npassed time enough, so that he would be (as he called it) an Englishman\nbefore we married. That was soon perfected, the Parliament being then\nsitting, and several other foreigners joining in the said bill to save\nthe expense.\nIt was not above three or four days after, but that, without giving me\nthe least notice that he had so much as been about the patent for\nbaronet, he brought it me in a fine embroidered bag, and saluting me by\nthe name of my Lady ---- (joining his own surname to it), presented it\nto me with his picture set with diamonds, and at the same time gave me a\nbreast-jewel worth a thousand pistoles, and the next morning we were\nmarried. Thus I put an end to all the intriguing part of my life--a life\nfull of prosperous wickedness; the reflections upon which were so much\nthe more afflicting as the time had been spent in the grossest crimes,\nwhich, the more I looked back upon, the more black and horrid they\nappeared, effectually drinking up all the comfort and satisfaction which\nI might otherwise have taken in that part of life which was still before\nme.\nThe first satisfaction, however, that I took in the new condition I was\nin was in reflecting that at length the life of crime was over, and that\nI was like a passenger coming back from the Indies, who, having, after\nmany years' fatigues and hurry in business, gotten a good estate, with\ninnumerable difficulties and hazards, is arrived safe at London with all\nhis effects, and has the pleasure of saying he shall never venture upon\nthe seas any more.\nWhen we were married we came back immediately to my lodgings (for the\nchurch was but just by), and we were so privately married that none but\nAmy and my friend the Quaker was acquainted with it. As soon as we came\ninto the house he took me in his arms, and kissing me, \"Now you are my\nown,\" says he. \"Oh that you had been so good to have done this eleven\nyears ago!\" \"Then,\" said I, \"you, perhaps, would have been tired of me\nlong ago; it is much better now, for now all our happy days are to come.\nBesides,\" said I, \"I should not have been half so rich;\" but that I said\nto myself, for there was no letting him into the reason of it. \"Oh!\"\nsays he, \"I should not have been tired of you; but, besides having the\nsatisfaction of your company, it had saved me that unlucky blow at\nParis, which was a dead loss to me of above eight thousand pistoles, and\nall the fatigues of so many years' hurry and business;\" and then he\nadded, \"But I'll make you pay for it all, now I have you.\" I started a\nlittle at the words. \"Ay,\" said I, \"do you threaten already? Pray what\nd'ye mean by that?\" and began to look a little grave.\n\"I'll tell you,\" says he, \"very plainly what I mean;\" and still he held\nme fast in his arms. \"I intend from this time never to trouble myself\nwith any more business, so I shall never get one shilling for you more\nthan I have already; all that you will lose one way. Next, I intend not\nto trouble myself with any of the care or trouble of managing what\neither you have for me or what I have to add to it; but you shall e'en\ntake it all upon yourself, as the wives do in Holland; so you will pay\nfor it that way too, for all the drudgery shall be yours. Thirdly, I\nintend to condemn you to the constant bondage of my impertinent company,\nfor I shall tie you like a pedlar's pack at my back. I shall scarce\never be from you; for I am sure I can take delight in nothing else in\nthis world.\" \"Very well,\" says I; \"but I am pretty heavy. I hope you'll\nset me down sometimes when you are aweary.\" \"As for that,\" says he,\n\"tire me if you can.\"\nThis was all jest and allegory; but it was all true, in the moral of the\nfable, as you shall hear in its place. We were very merry the rest of\nthe day, but without any noise or clutter; for he brought not one of his\nacquaintance or friends, either English or foreigner. The honest Quaker\nprovided us a very noble dinner indeed, considering how few we were to\neat it; and every day that week she did the like, and would at last have\nit be all at her own charge, which I was utterly averse to; first,\nbecause I knew her circumstances not to be very great, though not very\nlow; and next, because she had been so true a friend, and so cheerful a\ncomforter to me, ay, and counsellor too, in all this affair, that I had\nresolved to make her a present that should be some help to her when all\nwas over.\nBut to return to the circumstances of our wedding. After being very\nmerry, as I have told you, Amy and the Quaker put us to bed, the honest\nQuaker little thinking we had been abed together eleven years before.\nNay, that was a secret which, as it happened, Amy herself did not know.\nAmy grinned and made faces, as if she had been pleased; but it came out\nin so many words, when he was not by, the sum of her mumbling and\nmuttering was, that this should have been done ten or a dozen years\nbefore; that it would signify little now; that was to say, in short,\nthat her mistress was pretty near fifty, and too old to have any\nchildren. I chid her; the Quaker laughed, complimented me upon my not\nbeing so old as Amy pretended, that I could not be above forty, and\nmight have a house full of children yet. But Amy and I too knew better\nthan she how it was, for, in short, I was old enough to have done\nbreeding, however I looked; but I made her hold her tongue.\nIn the morning my Quaker landlady came and visited us before we were up,\nand made us eat cakes and drink chocolate in bed; and then left us\nagain, and bid us take a nap upon it, which I believe we did. In short,\nshe treated us so handsomely, and with such an agreeable cheerfulness,\nas well as plenty, as made it appear to me that Quakers may, and that\nthis Quaker did, understand good manners as well as any other people.\nI resisted her offer, however, of treating us for the whole week; and I\nopposed it so long that I saw evidently that she took it ill, and would\nhave thought herself slighted if we had not accepted it. So I said no\nmore, but let her go on, only told her I would be even with her; and so\nI was. However, for that week she treated us as she said she would, and\ndid it so very fine, and with such a profusion of all sorts of good\nthings, that the greatest burthen to her was how to dispose of things\nthat were left; for she never let anything, how dainty or however large,\nbe so much as seen twice among us.\nI had some servants indeed, which helped her off a little; that is to\nsay, two maids, for Amy was now a woman of business, not a servant, and\nate always with us. I had also a coachman and a boy. My Quaker had a\nman-servant too, but had but one maid; but she borrowed two more of some\nof her friends for the occasion, and had a man-cook for dressing the\nvictuals.\nShe was only at a loss for plate, which she gave me a whisper of; and I\nmade Amy fetch a large strong-box, which I had lodged in a safe hand, in\nwhich was all the fine plate which I had provided on a worse occasion,\nas is mentioned before; and I put it into the Quaker's hand, obliging\nher not to use it as mine, but as her own, for a reason I shall mention\npresently.\nI was now my Lady ----, and I must own I was exceedingly pleased with\nit; 'twas so big and so great to hear myself called \"her ladyship,\" and\n\"your ladyship,\" and the like, that I was like the Indian king at\nVirginia, who, having a house built for him by the English, and a lock\nput upon the door, would sit whole days together with the key in his\nhand, locking and unlocking, and double-locking, the door, with an\nunaccountable pleasure at the novelty; so I could have sat a whole day\ntogether to hear Amy talk to me, and call me \"your ladyship\" at every\nword; but after a while the novelty wore off and the pride of it abated,\ntill at last truly I wanted the other title as much as I did that of\nladyship before.\nWe lived this week in all the innocent mirth imaginable, and our\ngood-humoured Quaker was so pleasant in her way that it was particularly\nentertaining to us. We had no music at all, or dancing; only I now and\nthen sung a French song to divert my spouse, who desired it, and the\nprivacy of our mirth greatly added to the pleasure of it. I did not make\nmany clothes for my wedding, having always a great many rich clothes by\nme, which, with a little altering for the fashion, were perfectly new.\nThe next day he pressed me to dress, though we had no company. At last,\njesting with him, I told him I believed I was able to dress me so, in\none kind of dress that I had by me, that he would not know his wife when\nhe saw her, especially if anybody else was by. No, he said, that was\nimpossible, and he longed to see that dress. I told him I would dress me\nin it, if he would promise me never to desire me to appear in it before\ncompany. He promised he would not, but wanted to know why too; as\nhusbands, you know, are inquisitive creatures, and love to inquire after\nanything they think is kept from them; but I had an answer ready for\nhim. \"Because,\" said I, \"it is not a decent dress in this country, and\nwould not look modest.\" Neither, indeed, would it, for it was but one\ndegree off from appearing in one's shift, but was the usual wear in the\ncountry where they were used. He was satisfied with my answer, and gave\nme his promise never to ask me to be seen in it before company. I then\nwithdrew, taking only Amy and the Quaker with me; and Amy dressed me in\nmy old Turkish habit which I danced in formerly, &c., as before. The\nQuaker was charmed with the dress, and merrily said, that if such a\ndress should come to be worn here, she should not know what to do; she\nshould be tempted not to dress in the Quaker's way any more.\nWhen all the dress was put on, I loaded it with jewels, and in\nparticular I placed the large breast-jewel which he had given me of a\nthousand pistoles upon the front of the _tyhaia_, or head-dress, where\nit made a most glorious show indeed. I had my own diamond necklace on,\nand my hair was _tout brilliant_, all glittering with jewels.\nHis picture set with diamonds I had placed stitched to my vest, just, as\nmight be supposed, upon my heart (which is the compliment in such cases\namong the Eastern people); and all being open at the breast, there was\nno room for anything of a jewel there.\nIn this figure, Amy holding the train of my robe, I came down to him. He\nwas surprised, and perfectly astonished. He knew me, to be sure, because\nI had prepared him, and because there was nobody else there but the\nQuaker and Amy; but he by no means knew Amy, for she had dressed herself\nin the habit of a Turkish slave, being the garb of my little Turk which\nI had at Naples, as I have said; she had her neck and arms bare, was\nbareheaded, and her hair braided in a long tassel hanging down her back;\nbut the jade could neither hold her countenance or her chattering\ntongue, so as to be concealed long.\nWell, he was so charmed with this dress that he would have me sit and\ndine in it; but it was so thin, and so open before, and the weather\nbeing also sharp, that I was afraid of taking cold; however, the fire\nbeing enlarged and the doors kept shut, I sat to oblige him, and he\nprofessed he never saw so fine a dress in his life. I afterwards told\nhim that my husband (so he called the jeweller that was killed) bought\nit for me at Leghorn, with a young Turkish slave which I parted with at\nParis; and that it was by the help of that slave that I learned how to\ndress in it, and how everything was to be worn, and many of the Turkish\ncustoms also, with some of their language. This story agreeing with the\nfact, only changing the person, was very natural, and so it went off\nwith him; but there was good reason why I should not receive any company\nin this dress--that is to say, not in England. I need not repeat it; you\nwill hear more of it.\nBut when I came abroad I frequently put it on, and upon two or three\noccasions danced in it, but always at his request.\nWe continued at the Quaker's lodgings for above a year; for now, making\nas though it was difficult to determine where to settle in England to\nhis satisfaction, unless in London, which was not to mine, I pretended\nto make him an offer, that, to oblige him, I began to incline to go and\nlive abroad with him; that I knew nothing could be more agreeable to\nhim, and that as to me, every place was alike; that, as I had lived\nabroad without a husband so many years, it could be no burthen to me to\nlive abroad again, especially with him. Then we fell to straining our\ncourtesies upon one another. He told me he was perfectly easy at living\nin England, and had squared all his affairs accordingly; for that, as he\nhad told me he intended to give over all business in the world, as well\nthe care of managing it as the concern about it, seeing we were both in\ncondition neither to want it or to have it be worth our while, so I\nmight see it was his intention, by his getting himself naturalised, and\ngetting the patent of baronet, &c. Well, for all that, I told him I\naccepted his compliment, but I could not but know that his native\ncountry, where his children were breeding up, must be most agreeable to\nhim, and that, if I was of such value to him, I would be there then, to\nenhance the rate of his satisfaction; that wherever he was would be a\nhome to me, and any place in the world would be England to me if he was\nwith me; and thus, in short, I brought him to give me leave to oblige\nhim with going to live abroad, when, in truth, I could not have been\nperfectly easy at living in England, unless I had kept constantly within\ndoors, lest some time or other the dissolute life I had lived here\nshould have come to be known, and all those wicked things have been\nknown too, which I now began to be very much ashamed of.\nWhen we closed up our wedding week, in which our Quaker had been so very\nhandsome to us, I told him how much I thought we were obliged to her for\nher generous carriage to us; how she had acted the kindest part through\nthe whole, and how faithful a friend she had been to me upon all\noccasions; and then letting him know a little of her family unhappiness,\nI proposed that I thought I not only ought to be grateful to her, but\nreally to do something extraordinary for her, towards making her easy in\nher affairs. And I added, that I had no hangers-on that should trouble\nhim; that there was nobody belonged to me but what was thoroughly\nprovided for, and that, if I did something for this honest woman that\nwas considerable, it should be the last gift I would give to anybody in\nthe world but Amy; and as for her, we were not agoing to turn her\nadrift, but whenever anything offered for her, we would do as we saw\ncause; that, in the meantime, Amy was not poor, that she had saved\ntogether between seven and eight hundred pounds. By the way, I did not\ntell him how, and by what wicked ways she got it, but that she had it;\nand that was enough to let him know she would never be in want of us.\nMy spouse was exceedingly pleased with my discourse about the Quaker,\nmade a kind of a speech to me upon the subject of gratitude, told me it\nwas one of the brightest parts of a gentlewoman, that it was so twisted\nwith honesty, nay, and even with religion too, that he questioned\nwhether either of them could be found where gratitude was not to be\nfound; that in this act there was not only gratitude, but charity; and\nthat to make the charity still more Christian-like, the object too had\nreal merit to attract it; he therefore agreed to the thing with all his\nheart, only would have had me let him pay it out of his effects.\nI told him, as for that, I did not design, whatever I had said formerly,\nthat we should have two pockets; and that though I had talked to him of\nbeing a free woman, and an independent, and the like, and he had offered\nand promised that I should keep all my own estate in my own hands; yet,\nthat since I had taken him, I would e'en do as other honest wives\ndid--where I thought fit to give myself, I should give what I had too;\nthat if I reserved anything, it should be only in case of mortality, and\nthat I might give it to his children afterwards, as my own gift; and\nthat, in short, if he thought fit to join stocks, we would see to-morrow\nmorning what strength we could both make up in the world, and bringing\nit all together, consider, before we resolved upon the place of\nremoving, how we should dispose of what we had, as well as of ourselves.\nThis discourse was too obliging, and he too much of a man of sense not\nto receive it as it was meant. He only answered, we would do in that as\nwe should both agree; but the thing under our present care was to show\nnot gratitude only, but charity and affection too, to our kind friend\nthe Quaker; and the first word he spoke of was to settle a thousand\npounds upon her for her life--that is to say, sixty pounds a year--but\nin such a manner as not to be in the power of any person to reach but\nherself. This was a great thing, and indeed showed the generous\nprinciples of my husband, and for that reason I mention it; but I\nthought that a little too much too, and particularly because I had\nanother thing in view for her about the plate; so I told him I thought,\nif he gave her a purse with a hundred guineas as a present first, and\nthen made her a compliment of \u00a340 per annum for her life, secured any\nsuch way as she should desire, it would be very handsome.\nHe agreed to that; and the same day, in the evening, when we were just\ngoing to bed, he took my Quaker by the hand, and, with a kiss, told her\nthat we had been very kindly treated by her from the beginning of this\naffair, and his wife before, as she (meaning me) had informed him; and\nthat he thought himself bound to let her see that she had obliged\nfriends who knew how to be grateful; that for his part of the obligation\nhe desired she would accept of that, for an acknowledgment in part only\n(putting the gold into her hand), and that his wife would talk with her\nabout what farther he had to say to her; and upon that, not giving her\ntime hardly to say \"Thank ye,\" away he went upstairs into our\nbedchamber, leaving her confused and not knowing what to say.\nWhen he was gone she began to make very handsome and obliging\nrepresentations of her goodwill to us both, but that it was without\nexpectation of reward; that I had given her several valuable presents\nbefore--and so, indeed, I had; for, besides the piece of linen which I\nhad given her at first, I had given her a suit of damask table-linen, of\nthe linen I bought for my balls, viz., three table-cloths and three\ndozen of napkins; and at another time I gave her a little necklace of\ngold beads, and the like; but that is by the way. But she mentioned\nthem, I say, and how she was obliged by me on many other occasions; that\nshe was not in condition to show her gratitude any other way, not being\nable to make a suitable return; and that now we took from her all\nopportunity, to balance my former friendship, and left her more in debt\nthan she was before. She spoke this in a very good kind of manner, in\nher own way, but which was very agreeable indeed, and had as much\napparent sincerity, and I verily believe as real as was possible to be\nexpressed; but I put a stop to it, and bade her say no more, but accept\nof what my spouse had given her, which was but in part, as she had heard\nhim say. \"And put it up,\" says I, \"and come and sit down here, and give\nme leave to say something else to you on the same head, which my spouse\nand I have settled between ourselves in your behalf.\" \"What dost thee\nmean?\" says she, and blushed, and looked surprised, but did not stir.\nShe was going to speak again, but I interrupted her, and told her she\nshould make no more apologies of any kind whatever, for I had better\nthings than all this to talk to her of; so I went on, and told her, that\nas she had been so friendly and kind to us on every occasion, and that\nher house was the lucky place where we came together, and that she knew\nI was from her own mouth acquainted in part with her circumstances, we\nwere resolved she should be the better for us as long as she lived. Then\nI told what we had resolved to do for her, and that she had nothing more\nto do but to consult with me how it should be effectually secured for\nher, distinct from any of the effects which were her husband's; and that\nif her husband did so supply her that she could live comfortably, and\nnot want it for bread or other necessaries, she should not make use of\nit, but lay up the income of it, and add it every year to the principal,\nso to increase the annual payment, which in time, and perhaps before she\nmight come to want it, might double itself; that we were very willing\nwhatever she should so lay up should be to herself, and whoever she\nthought fit after her; but that the forty pounds a year must return to\nour family after her life, which we both wished might be long and happy.\nLet no reader wonder at my extraordinary concern for this poor woman, or\nat my giving my bounty to her a place in this account. It is not, I\nassure you, to make a pageantry of my charity, or to value myself upon\nthe greatness of my soul, that should give in so profuse a manner as\nthis, which was above my figure, if my wealth had been twice as much as\nit was; but there was another spring from whence all flowed, and 'tis on\nthat account I speak of it. Was it possible I could think of a poor\ndesolate woman with four children, and her husband gone from her, and\nperhaps good for little if he had stayed--I say, was I, that had tasted\nso deep of the sorrows of such a kind of widowhood, able to look on her,\nand think of her circumstances, and not be touched in an uncommon\nmanner? No, no; I never looked on her and her family, though she was not\nleft so helpless and friendless as I had been, without remembering my\nown condition, when Amy was sent out to pawn or sell my pair of stays to\nbuy a breast of mutton and a bunch of turnips; nor could I look on her\npoor children, though not poor and perishing, like mine, without tears;\nreflecting on the dreadful condition that mine were reduced to, when\npoor Amy sent them all into their aunt's in Spitalfields, and run away\nfrom them. These were the original springs, or fountain-head, from\nwhence my affectionate thoughts were moved to assist this poor woman.\nWhen a poor debtor, having lain long in the Compter, or Ludgate, or the\nKing's Bench for debt, afterwards gets out, rises again in the world,\nand grows rich, such a one is a certain benefactor to the prisoners\nthere, and perhaps to every prison he passes by as long as he lives, for\nhe remembers the dark days of his own sorrow; and even those who never\nhad the experience of such sorrows to stir up their minds to acts of\ncharity would have the same charitable, good disposition did they as\nsensibly remember what it is that distinguishes them from others by a\nmore favourable and merciful Providence.\nThis, I say, was, however, the spring of my concern for this honest,\nfriendly, and grateful Quaker; and as I had so plentiful a fortune in\nthe world, I resolved she should taste the fruit of her kind usage to me\nin a manner that she could not expect.\nAll the while I talked to her I saw the disorder of her mind; the sudden\njoy was too much for her, and she coloured, trembled, changed, and at\nlast grew pale, and was indeed near fainting, when she hastily rung a\nlittle bell for her maid, who coming in immediately, she beckoned to\nher--for speak she could not--to fill her a glass of wine; but she had\nno breath to take it in, and was almost choked with that which she took\nin her mouth. I saw she was ill, and assisted her what I could, and with\nspirits and things to smell to just kept her from fainting, when she\nbeckoned to her maid to withdraw, and immediately burst out in crying,\nand that relieved her. When she recovered herself a little she flew to\nme, and throwing her arms about my neck, \"Oh!\" says she, \"thou hast\nalmost killed me;\" and there she hung, laying her head in my neck for\nhalf a quarter of an hour, not able to speak, but sobbing like a child\nthat had been whipped.\nI was very sorry that I did not stop a little in the middle of my\ndiscourse and make her drink a glass of wine before it had put her\nspirits into such a violent motion; but it was too late, and it was ten\nto one odds but that it had killed her.\nBut she came to herself at last, and began to say some very good things\nin return for my kindness. I would not let her go on, but told her I had\nmore to say to her still than all this, but that I would let it alone\ntill another time. My meaning was about the box of plate, good part of\nwhich I gave her, and some I gave to Amy; for I had so much plate, and\nsome so large, that I thought if I let my husband see it he might be apt\nto wonder what occasion I could ever have for so much, and for plate of\nsuch a kind too; as particularly a great cistern for bottles, which cost\na hundred and twenty pounds, and some large candlesticks too big for any\nordinary use. These I caused Amy to sell; in short, Amy sold above three\nhundred pounds' worth of plate; what I gave the Quaker was worth above\nsixty pounds, and I gave Amy above thirty pounds' worth, and yet I had a\ngreat deal left for my husband.\nNor did our kindness to the Quaker end with the forty pounds a year, for\nwe were always, while we stayed with her, which was above ten months,\ngiving her one good thing or another; and, in a word, instead of lodging\nwith her, she boarded with us, for I kept the house, and she and all\nher family ate and drank with us, and yet we paid her the rent of the\nhouse too; in short, I remembered my widowhood, and I made this widow's\nheart glad many a day the more upon that account.\nAnd now my spouse and I began to think of going over to Holland, where I\nhad proposed to him to live, and in order to settle all the\npreliminaries of our future manner of living, I began to draw in my\neffects, so as to have them all at command upon whatever occasion we\nthought fit; after which, one morning I called my spouse up to me: \"Hark\nye, sir,\" said I to him, \"I have two very weighty questions to ask of\nyou. I don't know what answer you will give to the first, but I doubt\nyou will be able to give but a sorry answer to the other, and yet, I\nassure you, it is of the last importance to yourself, and towards the\nfuture part of your life, wherever it is to be.\"\nHe did not seem to be much alarmed, because he could see I was speaking\nin a kind of merry way. \"Let's hear your questions, my dear,\" says he,\n\"and I'll give the best answer I can to them.\" \"Why, first,\" says I:\n\"I. You have married a wife here, made her a lady, and put her in\nexpectation of being something else still when she comes abroad. Pray\nhave you examined whether you are able to supply all her extravagant\ndemands when she comes abroad, and maintain an expensive Englishwoman in\nall her pride and vanity? In short, have you inquired whether you are\nable to keep her?\n\"II. You have married a wife here, and given her a great many fine\nthings, and you maintain her like a princess, and sometimes call her so.\nPray what portion have you had with her? what fortune has she been to\nyou? and where does her estate lie, that you keep her so fine? I am\nafraid that you keep her in a figure a great deal above her estate, at\nleast above all that you have seen of it yet. Are you sure you han't got\na bite, and that you have not made a beggar a lady?\"\n\"Well,\" says he, \"have you any more questions to ask? Let's have them\nall together; perhaps they may be all answered in a few words, as well\nas these two.\" \"No,\" says I, \"these are the two grand questions--at\nleast for the present.\" \"Why, then,\" says he, \"I'll answer you in a few\nwords; that I am fully master of my own circumstances, and, without\nfarther inquiry, can let my wife you speak of know, that as I have made\nher a lady I can maintain her as a lady, wherever she goes with me; and\nthis whether I have one pistole of her portion, or whether she has any\nportion or no; and as I have not inquired whether she has any portion or\nnot, so she shall not have the less respect showed her from me, or be\nobliged to live meaner, or be anyways straitened on that account; on the\ncontrary, if she goes abroad to live with me in my own country, I will\nmake her more than a lady, and support the expense of it too, without\nmeddling with anything she has; and this, I suppose,\" says he, \"contains\nan answer to both your questions together.\"\nHe spoke this with a great deal more earnestness in his countenance than\nI had when I proposed my questions, and said a great many kind things\nupon it, as the consequence of former discourses, so that I was obliged\nto be in earnest too. \"My dear,\" says I, \"I was but in jest in my\nquestions; but they were proposed to introduce what I am going to say to\nyou in earnest; namely, that if I am to go abroad, 'tis time I should\nlet you know how things stand, and what I have to bring you with your\nwife; how it is to be disposed and secured, and the like; and therefore\ncome,\" says I, \"sit down, and let me show you your bargain here; I hope\nyou will find that you have not got a wife without a fortune.\"\nHe told me then, that since he found I was in earnest, he desired that I\nwould adjourn it till to-morrow, and then we would do as the poor people\ndo after they marry, feel in their pockets, and see how much money they\ncan bring together in the world. \"Well,\" says I, \"with all my heart;\"\nand so we ended our talk for that time.\nAs this was in the morning, my spouse went out after dinner to his\ngoldsmith's, as he said, and about three hours after returns with a\nporter and two large boxes with him; and his servant brought another\nbox, which I observed was almost as heavy as the two that the porter\nbrought, and made the poor fellow sweat heartily; he dismissed the\nporter, and in a little while after went out again with his man, and\nreturning at night, brought another porter with more boxes and bundles,\nand all was carried up, and put into a chamber, next to our bedchamber;\nand in the morning he called for a pretty large round table, and began\nto unpack.\nWhen the boxes were opened, I found they were chiefly full of books, and\npapers, and parchments, I mean books of accounts, and writings, and such\nthings as were in themselves of no moment to me, because I understood\nthem not; but I perceived he took them all out, and spread them about\nhim upon the table and chairs, and began to be very busy with them; so I\nwithdrew and left him; and he was indeed so busy among them, that he\nnever missed me till I had been gone a good while; but when he had gone\nthrough all his papers, and come to open a little box, he called for me\nagain. \"Now,\" says he, and called me his countess, \"I am ready to answer\nyour first question; if you will sit down till I have opened this box,\nwe will see how it stands.\"\nSo we opened the box; there was in it indeed what I did not expect, for\nI thought he had sunk his estate rather than raised it; but he produced\nme in goldsmiths' bills, and stock in the English East India Company,\nabout sixteen thousand pounds sterling; then he gave into my hands nine\nassignments upon the Bank of Lyons in France, and two upon the rents of\nthe town-house in Paris, amounting in the whole to 5800 crowns per\nannum, or annual rent, as it is called there; and lastly, the sum of\n30,000 rixdollars in the Bank of Amsterdam; besides some jewels and gold\nin the box to the value of about \u00a31500 or \u00a31600, among which was a very\ngood necklace of pearl of about \u00a3200 value; and that he pulled out and\ntied about my neck, telling me that should not be reckoned into the\naccount.\nI was equally pleased and surprised, and it was with an inexpressible\njoy that I saw him so rich.\n\"You might well tell me,\" said I, \"that you were able to make me\ncountess, and maintain me as such.\" In short, he was immensely rich; for\nbesides all this, he showed me, which was the reason of his being so\nbusy among the books, I say, he showed me several adventures he had\nabroad in the business of his merchandise; as particularly an eighth\nshare in an East India ship then abroad; an account-courant with a\nmerchant at Cadiz in Spain; about \u00a33000 lent upon bottomry, upon ships\ngone to the Indies; and a large cargo of goods in a merchant's hands,\nfor sale at Lisbon in Portugal; so that in his books there was about\n\u00a312,000 more; all which put together, made about \u00a327,000 sterling, and\nI stood amazed at this account, as well I might, and said nothing to him\nfor a good while, and the rather because I saw him still busy looking\nover his books. After a while, as I was going to express my wonder,\n\"Hold, my dear,\" says he, \"this is not all neither;\" then he pulled me\nout some old seals, and small parchment rolls, which I did not\nunderstand; but he told me they were a right of reversion which he had\nto a paternal estate in his family, and a mortgage of 14,000 rixdollars,\nwhich he had upon it, in the hands of the present possessor; so that was\nabout \u00a33000 more.\n\"But now hold again,\" says he, \"for I must pay my debts out of all this,\nand they are very great, I assure you;\" and the first he said was a\nblack article of 8000 pistoles, which he had a lawsuit about at Paris,\nbut had it awarded against him, which was the loss he had told me of,\nand which made him leave Paris in disgust; that in other accounts he\nowed about \u00a35300 sterling; but after all this, upon the whole, he had\nstill \u00a317,000 clear stock in money, and \u00a31320 a year in rent.\nAfter some pause, it came to my turn to speak. \"Well,\" says I, \"'tis\nvery hard a gentleman with such a fortune as this should come over to\nEngland, and marry a wife with nothing; it shall never,\" says I, \"be\nsaid, but what I have, I'll bring into the public stock;\" so I began to\nproduce.\nFirst, I pulled out the mortgage which good Sir Robert had procured for\nme, the annual rent \u00a3700 per annum; the principal money \u00a314,000.\nSecondly, I pulled out another mortgage upon land, procured by the same\nfaithful friend, which at three times had advanced \u00a312,000.\nThirdly, I pulled him out a parcel of little securities, procured by\nseveral hands, by fee-farm rents, and such petty mortgages as those\ntimes afforded, amounting to \u00a310,800 principal money, and paying six\nhundred and thirty-six pounds a-year. So that in the whole there was two\nthousand and fifty-six pounds a year ready money constantly coming in.\nWhen I had shown him all these, I laid them upon the table, and bade him\ntake them, that he might be able to give me an answer to the second\nquestion. What fortune he had with his wife? And laughed a little at it.\nHe looked at them awhile, and then handed them all back again to me: \"I\nwill not touch them,\" says he, \"nor one of them, till they are all\nsettled in trustees' hands for your own use, and the management wholly\nyour own.\"\nI cannot omit what happened to me while all this was acting; though it\nwas cheerful work in the main, yet I trembled every joint of me, worse\nfor aught I know than ever Belshazzar did at the handwriting on the\nwall, and the occasion was every way as just. \"Unhappy wretch,\" said I\nto myself, \"shall my ill-got wealth, the product of prosperous lust, and\nof a vile and vicious life of whoredom and adultery, be intermingled\nwith the honest well-gotten estate of this innocent gentleman, to be a\nmoth and a caterpillar among it, and bring the judgments of heaven upon\nhim, and upon what he has, for my sake? Shall my wickedness blast his\ncomforts? Shall I be fire in his flax? and be a means to provoke heaven\nto curse his blessings? God forbid! I'll keep them asunder if it be\npossible.\"\nThis is the true reason why I have been so particular in the account of\nmy vast acquired stock; and how his estate, which was perhaps the\nproduct of many years' fortunate industry, and which was equal if not\nsuperior to mine at best, was, at my request, kept apart from mine, as\nis mentioned above.\nI have told you how he gave back all my writings into my own hands\nagain. \"Well,\" says I, \"seeing you will have it be kept apart, it shall\nbe so, upon one condition, which I have to propose, and no other.\" \"And\nwhat is the condition?\" says he. \"Why,\" says I, \"all the pretence I can\nhave for the making over my own estate to me is, that in case of your\nmortality, I may have it reserved for me, if I outlive you.\" \"Well,\"\nsays he, \"that is true\" \"But then,\" said I, \"the annual income is always\nreceived by the husband, during his life, as 'tis supposed, for the\nmutual subsistence of the family; now,\" says I, \"here is \u00a32000 a year,\nwhich I believe is as much as we shall spend, and I desire none of it\nmay be saved; and all the income of your own estate, the interest of the\n\u00a317,000 and the \u00a31320 a year, may be constantly laid by for the increase\nof your estate; and so,\" added I, \"by joining the interest every year to\nthe capital you will perhaps grow as rich as you would do if you were to\ntrade with it all, if you were obliged to keep house out of it too.\"\nHe liked the proposal very well, and said it should be so; and this way\nI, in some measure, satisfied myself that I should not bring my husband\nunder the blast of a just Providence, for mingling my cursed ill-gotten\nwealth with his honest estate. This was occasioned by the reflections\nwhich, at some certain intervals of time, came into my thoughts of the\njustice of heaven, which I had reason to expect would some time or other\nstill fall upon me or my effects, for the dreadful life I had lived.\nAnd let nobody conclude from the strange success I met with in all my\nwicked doings, and the vast estate which I had raised by it, that\ntherefore I either was happy or easy. No, no, there was a dart struck\ninto the liver; there was a secret hell within, even all the while, when\nour joy was at the highest; but more especially now, after it was all\nover, and when, according to all appearance, I was one of the happiest\nwomen upon earth; all this while, I say, I had such constant terror upon\nmy mind, as gave me every now and then very terrible shocks, and which\nmade me expect something very frightful upon every accident of life.\nIn a word, it never lightened or thundered, but I expected the next\nflash would penetrate my vitals, and melt the sword (soul) in this\nscabbard of flesh; it never blew a storm of wind, but I expected the\nfall of some stack of chimneys, or some part of the house, would bury me\nin its ruins; and so of other things.\nBut I shall perhaps have occasion to speak of all these things again\nby-and-by; the case before us was in a manner settled; we had full four\nthousand pounds per annum for our future subsistence, besides a vast sum\nin jewels and plate; and besides this, I had about eight thousand pounds\nreserved in money which I kept back from him, to provide for my two\ndaughters, of whom I have much yet to say.\nWith this estate, settled as you have heard, and with the best husband\nin the world, I left England again; I had not only, in human prudence,\nand by the nature of the thing, being now married and settled in so\nglorious a manner,--I say, I had not only abandoned all the gay and\nwicked course which I had gone through before, but I began to look back\nupon it with that horror and that detestation which is the certain\ncompanion, if not the forerunner, of repentance.\nSometimes the wonders of my present circumstances would work upon me,\nand I should have some raptures upon my soul, upon the subject of my\ncoming so smoothly out of the arms of hell, that I was not ingulfed in\nruin, as most who lead such lives are, first or last; but this was a\nflight too high for me; I was not come to that repentance that is raised\nfrom a sense of Heaven's goodness; I repented of the crime, but it was\nof another and lower kind of repentance, and rather moved by my fears of\nvengeance, than from a sense of being spared from being punished, and\nlanded safe after a storm.\nThe first thing which happened after our coming to the Hague (where we\nlodged for a while) was, that my spouse saluted me one morning with the\ntitle of countess, as he said he intended to do, by having the\ninheritance to which the honour was annexed made over to him. It is\ntrue, it was a reversion, but it soon fell, and in the meantime, as all\nthe brothers of a count are called counts, so I had the title by\ncourtesy, about three years before I had it in reality.\nI was agreeably surprised at this coming so soon, and would have had my\nspouse have taken the money which it cost him out of my stock, but he\nlaughed at me, and went on.\nI was now in the height of my glory and prosperity, and I was called the\nCountess de ----; for I had obtained that unlooked for, which I secretly\naimed at, and was really the main reason of my coming abroad. I took now\nmore servants, lived in a kind of magnificence that I had not been\nacquainted with, was called \"your honour\" at every word, and had a\ncoronet behind my coach; though at the same time I knew little or\nnothing of my new pedigree.\nThe first thing that my spouse took upon him to manage, was to declare\nourselves married eleven years before our arriving in Holland; and\nconsequently to acknowledge our little son, who was yet in England, to\nbe legitimate; order him to be brought over, and added to his family,\nand acknowledge him to be our own.\nThis was done by giving notice to his people at Nimeguen, where his\nchildren (which were two sons and a daughter) were brought up, that he\nwas come over from England, and that he was arrived at the Hague with\nhis wife, and should reside there some time, and that he would have his\ntwo sons brought down to see him; which accordingly was done, and where\nI entertained them with all the kindness and tenderness that they could\nexpect from their mother-in-law; and who pretended to be so ever since\nthey were two or three years old.\nThis supposing us to have been so long married was not difficult at all,\nin a country where we had been seen together about that time, viz.,\neleven years and a half before, and where we had never been seen\nafterwards till we now returned together: this being seen together was\nalso openly owned and acknowledged, of course, by our friend the\nmerchant at Rotterdam, and also by the people in the house where we both\nlodged in the same city, and where our first intimacies began, and who,\nas it happened, were all alive; and therefore, to make it the more\npublic, we made a tour to Rotterdam again, lodged in the same house, and\nwas visited there by our friend the merchant, and afterwards invited\nfrequently to his house, where he treated us very handsomely.\nThis conduct of my spouse, and which he managed very cleverly, was\nindeed a testimony of a wonderful degree of honesty and affection to our\nlittle son; for it was done purely for the sake of the child.\nI call it an honest affection, because it was from a principle of\nhonesty that he so earnestly concerned himself to prevent the scandal\nwhich would otherwise have fallen upon the child, who was itself\ninnocent; and as it was from this principle of justice that he so\nearnestly solicited me, and conjured me by the natural affections of a\nmother, to marry him when it was yet young within me and unborn, that\nthe child might not suffer for the sin of its father and mother; so,\nthough at the same time he really loved me very well, yet I had reason\nto believe that it was from this principle of justice to the child that\nhe came to England again to seek me with design to marry me, and, as he\ncalled it, save the innocent lamb from infamy worse than death.\nIt was with a just reproach to myself that I must repeat it again, that\nI had not the same concern for it, though it was the child of my own\nbody; nor had I ever the hearty affectionate love to the child that he\nhad. What the reason of it was I cannot tell; and, indeed, I had shown a\ngeneral neglect of the child through all the gay years of my London\nrevels, except that I sent Amy to look upon it now and then, and to pay\nfor its nursing; as for me, I scarce saw it four times in the first four\nyears of its life, and often wished it would go quietly out of the\nworld; whereas a son which I had by the jeweller, I took a different\ncare of, and showed a different concern for, though I did not let him\nknow me; for I provided very well for him, had him put out very well to\nschool, and when he came to years fit for it, let him go over with a\nperson of honesty and good business, to the Indies; and after he had\nlived there some time, and began to act for himself, sent him over the\nvalue of \u00a32000, at several times, with which he traded and grew rich;\nand, as 'tis to be hoped, may at last come over again with forty or\nfifty thousand pounds in his pocket, as many do who have not such\nencouragement at their beginning.\nI also sent him over a wife, a beautiful young lady, well-bred, an\nexceeding good-natured pleasant creature; but the nice young fellow did\nnot like her, and had the impudence to write to me, that is, to the\nperson I employed to correspond with him, to send him another, and\npromised that he would marry her I had sent him, to a friend of his, who\nliked her better than he did; but I took it so ill, that I would not\nsend him another, and withal, stopped another article of \u00a31000 which I\nhad appointed to send him. He considered of it afterwards, and offered\nto take her; but then truly she took so ill the first affront he put\nupon her, that she would not have him, and I sent him word I thought she\nwas very much in the right. However, after courting her two years, and\nsome friends interposing, she took him, and made him an excellent wife,\nas I knew she would, but I never sent him the thousand pounds cargo, so\nthat he lost that money for misusing me, and took the lady at last\nwithout it.\nMy new spouse and I lived a very regular, contemplative life; and, in\nitself, certainly a life filled with all human felicity. But if I looked\nupon my present situation with satisfaction, as I certainly did, so, in\nproportion, I on all occasions looked back on former things with\ndetestation, and with the utmost affliction; and now, indeed, and not\ntill now, those reflections began to prey upon my comforts, and lessen\nthe sweets of my other enjoyments. They might be said to have gnawed a\nhole in my heart before; but now they made a hole quite through it: now\nthey ate into all my pleasant things, made bitter every sweet, and mixed\nmy sighs with every smile.\nNot all the affluence of a plentiful fortune; not a hundred thousand\npounds estate (for, between us, we had little less); not honour and\ntitles, attendants and equipages; in a word, not all the things we call\npleasure, could give me any relish, or sweeten the taste of things to\nme; at least, not so much but I grew sad, heavy, pensive, and\nmelancholy; slept little, and ate little; dreamed continually of the\nmost frightful and terrible things imaginable: nothing but apparitions\nof devils and monsters, falling into gulfs, and off from steep and high\nprecipices, and the like; so that in the morning, when I should rise,\nand be refreshed with the blessing of rest, I was hag-ridden with\nfrights and terrible things formed merely in the imagination, and was\neither tired and wanted sleep, or overrun with vapours, and not fit for\nconversing with my family, or any one else.\nMy husband, the tenderest creature in the world, and particularly so to\nme, was in great concern for me, and did everything that lay in his\npower to comfort and restore me; strove to reason me out of it; then\ntried all the ways possible to divert me: but it was all to no purpose,\nor to but very little.\nMy only relief was sometimes to unbosom myself to poor Amy, when she and\nI was alone; and she did all she could to comfort me. But all was to\nlittle effect there; for, though Amy was the better penitent before,\nwhen we had been in the storm, Amy was just where she used to be now, a\nwild, gay, loose wretch, and not much the graver for her age; for Amy\nwas between forty and fifty by this time too.\nBut to go on with my own story. As I had no comforter, so I had no\ncounsellor; it was well, as I often thought, that I was not a Roman\nCatholic; for what a piece of work should I have made, to have gone to a\npriest with such a history as I had to tell him; and what penance would\nany father confessor have obliged me to perform, especially if he had\nbeen honest, and true to his office!\nHowever, as I had none of the recourse, so I had none of the absolution,\nby which the criminal confessing goes away comforted; but I went about\nwith a heart loaded with crime, and altogether in the dark as to what I\nwas to do; and in this condition I languished near two years. I may well\ncall it languishing, for if Providence had not relieved me, I should\nhave died in little time. But of that hereafter.\nI must now go back to another scene, and join it to this end of my\nstory, which will complete all my concern with England, at least all\nthat I shall bring into this account.\nI have hinted at large what I had done for my two sons, one at Messina,\nand the other in the Indies; but I have not gone through the story of my\ntwo daughters. I was so in danger of being known by one of them, that I\ndurst not see her, so as to let her know who I was; and for the other, I\ncould not well know how to see her, and own her, and let her see me,\nbecause she must then know that I would not let her sister know me,\nwhich would look strange; so that, upon the whole, I resolved to see\nneither of them at all. But Amy managed all that for me; and when she\nhad made gentlewomen of them both, by giving them a good, though late\neducation, she had like to have blown up the whole case, and herself and\nme too, by an unhappy discovery of herself to the last of them, that is,\nto her who was our cook-maid, and who, as I said before, Amy had been\nobliged to turn away, for fear of the very discovery which now happened.\nI have observed already in what manner Amy managed her by a third\nperson; and how the girl, when she was set up for a lady, as above, came\nand visited Amy at my lodgings; after which, Amy going, as was her\ncustom, to see the girl's brother (my son) at the honest man's house in\nSpitalfields, both the girls were there, merely by accident, at the same\ntime; and the other girl unawares discovered the secret, namely, that\nthis was the lady that had done all this for them.\nAmy was greatly surprised at it; but as she saw there was no remedy, she\nmade a jest of it, and so after that conversed openly, being still\nsatisfied that neither of them could make much of it, as long as they\nknew nothing of me. So she took them together one time, and told them\nthe history, as she called it, of their mother, beginning at the\nmiserable carrying them to their aunt's; she owned she was not their\nmother herself, but described her to them. However, when she said she\nwas not their mother, one of them expressed herself very much surprised,\nfor the girl had taken up a strong fancy that Amy was really her mother,\nand that she had, for some particular reasons, concealed it from her;\nand therefore, when she told her frankly that she was not her mother,\nthe girl fell a-crying, and Amy had much ado to keep life in her. This\nwas the girl who was at first my cook-maid in the Pall Mall. When Amy\nhad brought her to again a little, and she had recovered her first\ndisorder, Amy asked what ailed her? The poor girl hung about her, and\nkissed her, and was in such a passion still, though she was a great\nwench of nineteen or twenty years old, that she could not be brought to\nspeak a great while. At last, having recovered her speech, she said\nstill, \"But oh! Do not say you a'n't my mother! I'm sure you are my\nmother;\" and then the girl cried again like to kill herself. Amy could\nnot tell what to do with her a good while; she was loth to say again she\nwas not her mother, because she would not throw her into a fit of\ncrying again; but she went round about a little with her. \"Why, child,\"\nsays she, \"why would you have me be your mother? If it be because I am\nso kind to you, be easy, my dear,\" says Amy; \"I'll be as kind to you\nstill, as if I was your mother.\"\n\"Ay, but,\" says the girl, \"I am sure you are my mother too; and what\nhave I done that you won't own me, and that you will not be called my\nmother? Though I am poor, you have made me a gentlewoman,\" says she,\n\"and I won't do anything to disgrace you; besides,\" added she, \"I can\nkeep a secret, too, especially for my own mother, sure;\" then she calls\nAmy her dear mother, and hung about her neck again, crying still\nvehemently.\nThis last part of the girl's words alarmed Amy, and, as she told me,\nfrighted her terribly; nay, she was so confounded with it, that she was\nnot able to govern herself, or to conceal her disorder from the girl\nherself, as you shall hear. Amy was at a full stop, and confused to the\nlast degree; and the girl, a sharp jade, turned it upon her. \"My dear\nmother,\" says she, \"do not be uneasy about it; I know it all; but do not\nbe uneasy, I won't let my sister know a word of it, or my brother\neither, without you giving me leave; but don't disown me now you have\nfound me; don't hide yourself from me any longer; I can't bear that,\"\nsays she, \"it will break my heart.\"\n\"I think the girl's mad,\" says Amy; \"why, child, I tell thee, if I was\nthy mother I would not disown thee; don't you see I am as kind to you\nas if I was your mother?\" Amy might as well have sung a song to a\nkettledrum, as talk to her. \"Yes,\" says the girl, \"you are very good to\nme indeed;\" and that was enough to make anybody believe she was her\nmother too; but, however, that was not the case, she had other reasons\nto believe, and to know, that she was her mother; and it was a sad thing\nshe would not let her call her mother, who was her own child.\nAmy was so heart-full with the disturbance of it, that she did not enter\nfarther with her into the inquiry, as she would otherwise have done; I\nmean, as to what made the girl so positive; but comes away, and tells me\nthe whole story.\nI was thunderstruck with the story at first, and much more afterwards,\nas you shall hear; but, I say, I was thunderstruck at first, and amazed,\nand said to Amy, \"There must be something or other in it more than we\nknow of.\" But, having examined farther into it, I found the girl had no\nnotion of anybody but of Amy; and glad I was that I was not concerned in\nthe pretence, and that the girl had no notion of me in it. But even this\neasiness did not continue long; for the next time Amy went to see her,\nshe was the same thing, and rather more violent with Amy than she was\nbefore. Amy endeavoured to pacify her by all the ways imaginable: first,\nshe told her she took it ill that she would not believe her; and told\nher, if she would not give over such a foolish whimsey, she would leave\nher to the wide world as she found her.\nThis put the girl into fits, and she cried ready to kill herself, and\nhung about Amy again like a child. \"Why,\" says Amy, \"why can you not be\neasy with me, then, and compose yourself, and let me go on to do you\ngood, and show you kindness, as I would do, and as I intend to do? Can\nyou think that if I was your mother, I would not tell you so? What\nwhimsey is this that possesses your mind?\" says Amy. Well, the girl told\nher in a few words (but those few such as frighted Amy out of her wits,\nand me too) that she knew well enough how it was. \"I know,\" says she,\n\"when you left ----,\" naming the village, \"where I lived when my father\nwent away from us all, that you went over to France; I know that too,\nand who you went with,\" says the girl; \"did not my Lady Roxana come back\nagain with you? I know it all well enough; though I was but a child, I\nhave heard it all.\" And thus she run on with such discourse as put Amy\nout of all temper again; and she raved at her like a bedlam, and told\nher she would never come near her any more; she might go a-begging again\nif she would; she'd have nothing to do with her. The girl, a passionate\nwench, told her she knew the worst of it, she could go to service again,\nand if she would not own her own child, she must do as she pleased; then\nshe fell into a passion of crying again, as if she would kill herself.\nIn short, this girl's conduct terrified Amy to the last degree, and me\ntoo; and was it not that we knew the girl was quite wrong in some\nthings, she was yet so right in some other, that it gave me a great deal\nof perplexity; but that which put Amy the most to it, was that the girl\n(my daughter) told her that she (meaning me, her mother) had gone away\nwith the jeweller, and into France too; she did not call him the\njeweller, but with the landlord of the house; who, after her mother fell\ninto distress, and that Amy had taken all the children from her, made\nmuch of her, and afterwards married her.\nIn short, it was plain the girl had but a broken account of things, but\nyet that she had received some accounts that had a reality in the bottom\nof them, so that, it seems, our first measures, and the amour with the\njeweller, were not so concealed as I thought they had been; and, it\nseems, came in a broken manner to my sister-in-law, who Amy carried the\nchildren to, and she made some bustle, it seems, about it. But, as good\nluck was, it was too late, and I was removed and gone, none knew\nwhither, or else she would have sent all the children home to me again,\nto be sure.\nThis we picked out of the girl's discourse, that is to say, Amy did, at\nseveral times; but it all consisted of broken fragments of stories, such\nas the girl herself had heard so long ago, that she herself could make\nvery little of it; only that in the main, that her mother had played the\nwhore; had gone away with the gentleman that was landlord of the house;\nthat he married her; that she went into France. And, as she had learned\nin my family, where she was a servant, that Mrs. Amy and her Lady Roxana\nhad been in France together, so she put all these things together, and\njoining them with the great kindness that Amy now showed her, possessed\nthe creature that Amy was really her mother, nor was it possible for Amy\nto conquer it for a long time.\nBut this, after I had searched into it, as far as by Amy's relation I\ncould get an account of it, did not disquiet me half so much as that the\nyoung slut had got the name of Roxana by the end, and that she knew who\nher Lady Roxana was, and the like; though this, neither, did not hang\ntogether, for then she would not have fixed upon Amy for her mother. But\nsome time after, when Amy had almost persuaded her out of it, and that\nthe girl began to be so confounded in her discourses of it, that she\nmade neither head nor tail, at last the passionate creature flew out in\na kind of rage, and said to Amy, that if she was not her mother, Madam\nRoxana was her mother then, for one of them, she was sure, was her\nmother; and then all this that Amy had done for her was by Madam\nRoxana's order. \"And I am sure,\" says she, \"it was my Lady Roxana's\ncoach that brought the gentlewoman, whoever it was, to my uncle's in\nSpitalfields, for the coachman told me so.\" Amy fell a-laughing at her\naloud, as was her usual way; but, as Amy told me, it was but on one\nside of her mouth, for she was so confounded at her discourse, that she\nwas ready to sink into the ground; and so was I too when she told it me.\nHowever, Amy brazened her out of it all; told her, \"Well, since you\nthink you are so high-born as to be my Lady Roxana's daughter, you may\ngo to her and claim your kindred, can't you? I suppose,\" says Amy, \"you\nknow where to find her?\" She said she did not question to find her, for\nshe knew where she was gone to live privately; but, though, she might be\nremoved again. \"For I know how it is,\" says she, with a kind of a smile\nor a grin; \"I know how it all is, well enough.\"\nAmy was so provoked, that she told me, in short, she began to think it\nwould be absolutely necessary to murder her. That expression filled me\nwith horror, all my blood ran chill in my veins, and a fit of trembling\nseized me, that I could not speak a good while; at last. \"What, is the\ndevil in you, Amy?\" said I. \"Nay, nay,\" says she, \"let it be the devil\nor not the devil, if I thought she knew one tittle of your history, I\nwould despatch her if she were my own daughter a thousand times.\" \"And\nI,\" says I in a rage, \"as well as I love you, would be the first that\nshould put the halter about your neck, and see you hanged with more\nsatisfaction than ever I saw you in my life; nay,\" says I, \"you would\nnot live to be hanged, I believe I should cut your throat with my own\nhand; I am almost ready to do it,\" said I, \"as 'tis, for your but\nnaming the thing.\" With that, I called her cursed devil, and bade her\nget out of the room.\nI think it was the first time that ever I was angry with Amy in all my\nlife; and when all was done, though she was a devilish jade in having\nsuch a thought, yet it was all of it the effect of her excess of\naffection and fidelity to me.\nBut this thing gave me a terrible shock, for it happened just after I\nwas married, and served to hasten my going over to Holland; for I would\nnot have been seen, so as to be known by the name of Roxana, no, not for\nten thousand pounds; it would have been enough to have ruined me to all\nintents and purposes with my husband, and everybody else too; I might as\nwell have been the \"German princess.\"\nWell, I set Amy to work; and give Amy her due, she set all her wits to\nwork to find out which way this girl had her knowledge, but, more\nparticularly, how much knowledge she had--that is to say, what she\nreally knew, and what she did not know, for this was the main thing with\nme; how she could say she knew who Madam Roxana was, and what notions\nshe had of that affair, was very mysterious to me, for it was certain\nshe could not have a right notion of me, because she would have it be\nthat Amy was her mother.\nI scolded heartily at Amy for letting the girl ever know her, that is to\nsay, know her in this affair; for that she knew her could not be hid,\nbecause she, as I might say, served Amy, or rather under Amy, in my\nfamily, as is said before; but she (Amy) talked with her at first by\nanother person, and not by herself; and that secret came out by an\naccident, as I have said above.\nAmy was concerned at it as well as I, but could not help it; and though\nit gave us great uneasiness, yet, as there was no remedy, we were bound\nto make as little noise of it as we could, that it might go no farther.\nI bade Amy punish the girl for it, and she did so, for she parted with\nher in a huff, and told her she should see she was not her mother, for\nthat she could leave her just where she found her; and seeing she could\nnot be content to be served by the kindness of a friend, but that she\nwould needs make a mother of her, she would, for the future, be neither\nmother or friend, and so bid her go to service again, and be a drudge as\nshe was before.\nThe poor girl cried most lamentably, but would not be beaten out of it\nstill; but that which dumbfoundered Amy more than all the rest was that\nwhen she had berated the poor girl a long time, and could not beat her out\nof it, and had, as I have observed, threatened to leave her, the girl\nkept to what she said before, and put this turn to it again, that she\nwas sure, if Amy wa'n't, my Lady Roxana was her mother, and that she\nwould go find her out; adding, that she made no doubt but she could do\nit, for she knew where to inquire the name of her new husband.\nAmy came home with this piece of news in her mouth to me. I could easily\nperceive when she came in that she was mad in her mind, and in a rage at\nsomething or other, and was in great pain to get it out; for when she\ncame first in, my husband was in the room. However, Amy going up to\nundress her, I soon made an excuse to follow her, and coming into the\nroom, \"What the d--l is the matter, Amy?\" says I; \"I am sure you have\nsome bad news.\" \"News,\" says Amy aloud; \"ay, so I have; I think the d--l\nis in that young wench. She'll ruin us all and herself too; there's no\nquieting her.\" So she went on and told me all the particulars; but sure\nnothing was so astonished as I was when she told me that the girl knew I\nwas married, that she knew my husband's name, and would endeavour to\nfind me out. I thought I should have sunk down at the very words. In the\nmiddle of all my amazement, Amy starts up and runs about the room like a\ndistracted body. \"I must put an end to it, that I will; I can't bear\nit--I must murder her, I'll kill the b----;\" and swears by her Maker, in\nthe most serious tone in the world, and then repeated it over three or\nfour times, walking to and again in the room. \"I will, in short, I will\nkill her, if there was not another wench in the world.\"\n\"Prithee hold thy tongue, Amy,\" says I; \"why, thou art mad.\" \"Ay, so I\nam,\" says she, \"stark mad; but I'll be the death of her for all that,\nand then I shall be sober again.\" \"But you sha'n't,\" says I, \"you\nsha'n't hurt a hair of her head; why, you ought to be hanged for what\nyou have done already, for having resolved on it is doing it; as to the\nguilt of the fact you are a murderer already, as much as if you had done\nit already.\"\n\"I know that,\" says Amy, \"and it can be no worse; I'll put you out of\nyour pain, and her too; she shall never challenge you for her mother in\nthis world, whatever she may in the next.\" \"Well, well,\" says I, \"be\nquiet, and do not talk thus, I can't bear it.\" So she grew a little\nsoberer after a while.\nI must acknowledge, the notion of being discovered carried with it so\nmany frightful ideas, and hurried my thoughts so much, that I was scarce\nmyself any more than Amy, so dreadful a thing is a load of guilt upon\nthe mind.\nAnd yet when Amy began the second time to talk thus abominably of\nkilling the poor child, of murdering her, and swore by her Maker that\nshe would, so that I began to see that she was in earnest, I was farther\nterrified a great deal, and it helped to bring me to myself again in\nother cases.\nWe laid our heads together then to see if it was possible to discover by\nwhat means she had learned to talk so, and how she (I mean my girl) came\nto know that her mother had married a husband; but it would not do, the\ngirl would acknowledge nothing, and gave but a very imperfect account of\nthings still, being disgusted to the last degree with Amy's leaving her\nso abruptly as she did.\nWell, Amy went to the house where the boy was; but it was all one, there\nthey had only heard a confused story of the lady somebody, they knew not\nwho, which the same wench had told them, but they gave no heed to it at\nall. Amy told them how foolishly the girl had acted, and how she had\ncarried on the whimsey so far, in spite of all they could say to her;\nthat she had taken it so ill, she would see her no more, and so she\nmight e'en go to service again if she would, for she (Amy) would have\nnothing to do with her unless she humbled herself and changed her note,\nand that quickly too.\nThe good old gentleman, who had been the benefactor to them all, was\ngreatly concerned at it, and the good woman his wife was grieved beyond\nall expressing, and begged her ladyship (meaning Amy), not to resent it;\nthey promised, too, they would talk with her about it, and the old\ngentlewoman added, with some astonishment, \"Sure she cannot be such a\nfool but she will be prevailed with to hold her tongue, when she has it\nfrom your own mouth that you are not her mother, and sees that it\ndisobliges your ladyship to have her insist upon it.\" And so Amy came\naway with some expectation that it would be stopped here.\nBut the girl was such a fool for all that, and persisted in it\nobstinately, notwithstanding all they could say to her; nay, her sister\nbegged and entreated her not to play the fool, for that it would ruin\nher too, and that the lady (meaning Amy) would abandon them both.\nWell, notwithstanding this, she insisted, I say, upon it, and which was\nworse, the longer it lasted the more she began to drop Amy's ladyship,\nand would have it that the Lady Roxana was her mother, and that she had\nmade some inquiries about it, and did not doubt but she should find her\nout.\nWhen it was come to this, and we found there was nothing to be done with\nthe girl, but that she was so obstinately bent upon the search after me,\nthat she ventured to forfeit all she had in view; I say, when I found it\nwas come to this, I began to be more serious in my preparations of my\ngoing beyond sea, and particularly, it gave me some reason to fear that\nthere was something in it. But the following accident put me beside all\nmy measures, and struck me into the greatest confusion that ever I was\nin my life.\nI was so near going abroad that my spouse and I had taken measures for\nour going off; and because I would be sure not to go too public, but so\nas to take away all possibility of being seen, I had made some exception\nto my spouse against going in the ordinary public passage boats. My\npretence to him was the promiscuous crowds in those vessels, want of\nconvenience, and the like. So he took the hint, and found me out an\nEnglish merchant-ship, which was bound for Rotterdam, and getting soon\nacquainted with the master, he hired his whole ship, that is to say, his\ngreat cabin, for I do not mean his ship for freight, that so we had all\nthe conveniences possible for our passage; and all things being near\nready, he brought home the captain one day to dinner with him, that I\nmight see him, and be acquainted a little with him. So we came after\ndinner to talk of the ship and the conveniences on board, and the\ncaptain pressed me earnestly to come on board and see the ship,\nintimating that he would treat us as well as he could; and in discourse\nI happened to say I hoped he had no other passengers. He said no, he had\nnot; but, he said, his wife had courted him a good while to let her go\nover to Holland with him, for he always used that trade, but he never\ncould think of venturing all he had in one bottom; but if I went with\nhim he thought to take her and her kinswoman along with him this voyage,\nthat they might both wait upon me; and so added, that if we would do him\nthe honour to dine on board the next day, he would bring his wife on\nboard, the better to make us welcome.\nWho now could have believed the devil had any snare at the bottom of all\nthis? or that I was in any danger on such an occasion, so remote and out\nof the way as this was? But the event was the oddest that could be\nthought of. As it happened, Amy was not at home when we accepted this\ninvitation, and so she was left out of the company; but instead of Amy,\nwe took our honest, good-humoured, never-to-be-omitted friend the\nQuaker, one of the best creatures that ever lived, sure; and who,\nbesides a thousand good qualities unmixed with one bad one, was\nparticularly excellent for being the best company in the world; though\nI think I had carried Amy too, if she had not been engaged in this\nunhappy girl's affair. For on a sudden the girl was lost, and no news\nwas to be heard of her; and Amy had haunted her to every place she could\nthink of, that it was likely to find her in; but all the news she could\nhear of her was, that she was gone to an old comrade's house of hers,\nwhich she called sister, and who was married to a master of a ship, who\nlived at Redriff; and even this the jade never told me. It seems, when\nthis girl was directed by Amy to get her some breeding, go to the\nboarding-school, and the like, she was recommended to a boarding-school\nat Camberwell, and there she contracted an acquaintance with a young\nlady (so they are all called), her bedfellow, that they called sisters,\nand promised never to break off their acquaintance.\nBut judge you what an unaccountable surprise I must be in when I came on\nboard the ship and was brought into the captain's cabin, or what they\ncall it, the great cabin of the ship, to see his lady or wife, and\nanother young person with her, who, when I came to see her near hand,\nwas my old cook-maid in the Pall Mall, and, as appeared by the sequel of\nthe story, was neither more or less than my own daughter. That I knew\nher was out of doubt; for though she had not had opportunity to see me\nvery often, yet I had often seen her, as I must needs, being in my own\nfamily so long.\nIf ever I had need of courage, and a full presence of mind, it was now;\nit was the only valuable secret in the world to me, all depended upon\nthis occasion; if the girl knew me, I was undone; and to discover any\nsurprise or disorder had been to make her know me, or guess it, and\ndiscover herself.\nI was once going to feign a swooning and fainting away, and so falling\non the ground, or floor, put them all into a hurry and fright, and by\nthat means to get an opportunity to be continually holding something to\nmy nose to smell to, and so hold my hand or my handkerchief, or both,\nbefore my mouth; then pretend I could not bear the smell of the ship, or\nthe closeness of the cabin. But that would have been only to remove into\na clearer air upon the quarter-deck, where we should, with it, have had\na clearer light too; and if I had pretended the smell of the ship, it\nwould have served only to have carried us all on shore to the captain's\nhouse, which was hard by; for the ship lay so close to the shore, that\nwe only walked over a plank to go on board, and over another ship which\nlay within her; so this not appearing feasible, and the thought not\nbeing two minutes old, there was no time, for the two ladies rose up,\nand we saluted, so that I was bound to come so near my girl as to kiss\nher, which I would not have done had it been possible to have avoided\nit, but there was no room to escape.\nI cannot but take notice here, that notwithstanding there was a secret\nhorror upon my mind, and I was ready to sink when I came close to her to\nsalute her, yet it was a secret inconceivable pleasure to me when I\nkissed her, to know that I kissed my own child, my own flesh and blood,\nborn of my body, and who I had never kissed since I took the fatal\nfarewell of them all, with a million of tears, and a heart almost dead\nwith grief, when Amy and the good woman took them all away, and went\nwith them to Spitalfields. No pen can describe, no words can express, I\nsay, the strange impression which this thing made upon my spirits. I\nfelt something shoot through my blood, my heart fluttered, my head\nflashed, and was dizzy, and all within me, as I thought, turned about,\nand much ado I had not to abandon myself to an excess of passion at the\nfirst sight of her, much more when my lips touched her face. I thought I\nmust have taken her in my arms and kissed her again a thousand times,\nwhether I would or no.\nBut I roused up my judgment, and shook it off, and with infinite\nuneasiness in my mind, I sat down. You will not wonder if upon this\nsurprise I was not conversable for some minutes, and that the disorder\nhad almost discovered itself. I had a complication of severe things upon\nme, I could not conceal my disorder without the utmost difficulty, and\nyet upon my concealing it depended the whole of my prosperity; so I used\nall manner of violence with myself to prevent the mischief which was at\nthe door.\nWell, I saluted her, but as I went first forward to the captain's lady,\nwho was at the farther end of the cabin, towards the light, I had the\noccasion offered to stand with my back to the light, when I turned\nabout to her, who stood more on my left hand, so that she had not a fair\nsight of me, though I was so near her. I trembled, and knew neither what\nI did or said, I was in the utmost extremity, between so many particular\ncircumstances as lay upon me, for I was to conceal my disorder from\neverybody at the utmost peril, and at the same time expected everybody\nwould discern it. I was to expect she would discover that she knew me,\nand yet was, by all means possible, to prevent it. I was to conceal\nmyself, if possible, and yet had not the least room to do anything\ntowards it. In short, there was no retreat, no shifting anything off, no\navoiding or preventing her having a full sight of me, nor was there any\ncounterfeiting my voice, for then my husband would have perceived it. In\nshort, there was not the least circumstance that offered me any\nassistance, or any favourable thing to help me in this exigence.\nAfter I had been upon the rack for near half-an-hour, during which I\nappeared stiff and reserved, and a little too formal, my spouse and the\ncaptain fell into discourses about the ship and the sea, and business\nremote from us women; and by-and-by the captain carried him out upon the\nquarter-deck, and left us all by ourselves in the great cabin. Then we\nbegan to be a little freer one with another, and I began to be a little\nrevived by a sudden fancy of my own--namely, I thought I perceived that\nthe girl did not know me, and the chief reason of my having such a\nnotion was because I did not perceive the least disorder in her\ncountenance, or the least change in her carriage, no confusion, no\nhesitation in her discourse; nor, which I had my eye particularly upon,\ndid I observe that she fixed her eyes much upon me, that is to say, not\nsingling me out to look steadily at me, as I thought would have been the\ncase, but that she rather singled out my friend the Quaker, and chatted\nwith her on several things; but I observed, too, that it was all about\nindifferent matters.\nThis greatly encouraged me, and I began to be a little cheerful; but I\nwas knocked down again as with a thunderclap, when turning to the\ncaptain's wife, and discoursing of me, she said to her, \"Sister, I\ncannot but think my lady to be very much like such a person.\" Then she\nnamed the person, and the captain's wife said she thought so too. The\ngirl replied again, she was sure she had seen me before, but she could\nnot recollect where; I answered (though her speech was not directed to\nme) that I fancied she had not seen me before in England, but asked if\nshe had lived in Holland. She said, No, no, she had never been out of\nEngland, and I added, that she could not then have known me in England,\nunless it was very lately, for I had lived at Rotterdam a great while.\nThis carried me out of that part of the broil pretty well, and to make\nit go off better, when a little Dutch boy came into the cabin, who\nbelonged to the captain, and who I easily perceived to be Dutch, I\njested and talked Dutch to him, and was merry about the boy, that is to\nsay, as merry as the consternation I was still in would let me be.\nHowever, I began to be thoroughly convinced by this time that the girl\ndid not know me, which was an infinite satisfaction to me, or, at least,\nthat though she had some notion of me, yet that she did not think\nanything about my being who I was, and which, perhaps, she would have\nbeen as glad to have known as I would have been surprised if she had;\nindeed, it was evident that, had she suspected anything of the truth,\nshe would not have been able to have concealed it.\nThus this meeting went off, and, you may be sure, I was resolved, if\nonce I got off of it, she should never see me again to revive her fancy;\nbut I was mistaken there too, as you shall hear. After we had been on\nboard, the captain's lady carried us home to her house, which was but\njust on shore, and treated us there again very handsomely, and made us\npromise that we would come again and see her before we went to concert\nour affairs for the voyage and the like, for she assured us that both\nshe and her sister went the voyage at that time for our company, and I\nthought to myself, \"Then you'll never go the voyage at all;\" for I saw\nfrom that moment that it would be no way convenient for my ladyship to\ngo with them, for that frequent conversation might bring me to her mind,\nand she would certainly claim her kindred to me in a few days, as indeed\nwould have been the case.\nIt is hardly possible for me to conceive what would have been our part\nin this affair had my woman Amy gone with me on board this ship; it had\ncertainly blown up the whole affair, and I must for ever after have been\nthis girl's vassal, that is to say, have let her into the secret, and\ntrusted to her keeping it too, or have been exposed and undone. The very\nthought filled me with horror.\nBut I was not so unhappy neither, as it fell out, for Amy was not with\nus, and that was my deliverance indeed; yet we had another chance to get\nover still. As I resolved to put off the voyage, so I resolved to put\noff the visit, you may be sure, going upon this principle, namely, that\nI was fixed in it that the girl had seen her last of me, and should\nnever see me more.\nHowever, to bring myself well off, and, withal, to see, if I could, a\nlittle farther into the matter, I sent my friend the Quaker to the\ncaptain's lady to make the visit promised, and to make my excuse that I\ncould not possibly wait on her, for that I was very much out of order;\nand in the end of the discourse I bade her insinuate to them that she\nwas afraid I should not be able to get ready to go the voyage as soon as\nthe captain would be obliged to go, and that perhaps we might put it off\nto his next voyage. I did not let the Quaker into any other reason for\nit than that I was indisposed; and not knowing what other face to put\nupon that part, I made her believe that I thought I was a-breeding.\nIt was easy to put that into her head, and she of course hinted to the\ncaptain's lady that she found me so very ill that she was afraid I would\nmiscarry, and then, to be sure, I could not think of going.\nShe went, and she managed that part very dexterously, as I knew she\nwould, though she knew not a word of the grand reason of my\nindisposition; but I was all sunk and dead-hearted again when she told\nme she could not understand the meaning of one thing in her visit,\nnamely, that the young woman, as she called her, that was with the\ncaptain's lady, and who she called sister, was most impertinently\ninquisitive into things; as who I was? how long I had been in England?\nwhere I had lived? and the like; and that, above all the rest, she\ninquired if I did not live once at the other end of the town.\n\"I thought her inquiries so out of the way,\" says the honest Quaker,\n\"that I gave her not the least satisfaction; but as I saw by thy answers\non board the ship, when she talked of thee, that thou didst not incline\nto let her be acquainted with thee, so I was resolved that she should\nnot be much the wiser for me; and when she asked me if thou ever\nlived'st here or there, I always said, No, but that thou wast a Dutch\nlady, and was going home again to thy family, and lived abroad.\"\nI thanked her very heartily for that part, and indeed she served me in\nit more than I let her know she did: in a word, she thwarted the girl so\ncleverly, that if she had known the whole affair she could not have\ndone it better.\nBut, I must acknowledge, all this put me upon the rack again, and I was\nquite discouraged, not at all doubting but that the jade had a right\nscent of things, and that she knew and remembered my face, but had\nartfully concealed her knowledge of me till she might perhaps do it more\nto my disadvantage. I told all this to Amy, for she was all the relief I\nhad. The poor soul (Amy) was ready to hang herself, that, as she said,\nshe had been the occasion of it all; and that if I was ruined (which was\nthe word I always used to her), she had ruined me; and she tormented\nherself about it so much, that I was sometimes fain to comfort her and\nmyself too.\nWhat Amy vexed herself at was, chiefly, that she should be surprised so\nby the girl, as she called her; I mean surprised into a discovery of\nherself to the girl; which indeed was a false step of Amy's, and so I\nhad often told her. But it was to no purpose to talk of that now, the\nbusiness was, how to get clear of the girl's suspicions, and of the girl\ntoo, for it looked more threatening every day than other; and if I was\nuneasy at what Amy had told me of her rambling and rattling to her\n(Amy), I had a thousand times as much reason to be uneasy now, when she\nhad chopped upon me so unhappily as this; and not only had seen my face,\nbut knew too where I lived, what name I went by, and the like.\nAnd I am not come to the worst of it yet neither, for a few days after\nmy friend the Quaker had made her visit, and excused me on the account\nof indisposition, as if they had done it in over and above kindness,\nbecause they had been told I was not well, they come both directly to my\nlodgings to visit me: the captain's wife and my daughter (who she called\nsister), and the captain, to show them the place; the captain only\nbrought them to the door, put them in, and went away upon some business.\nHad not the kind Quaker, in a lucky moment, come running in before them,\nthey had not only clapped in upon me, in the parlour, as it had been a\nsurprise, but which would have been a thousand times worse, had seen Amy\nwith me; I think if that had happened, I had had no remedy but to take\nthe girl by herself, and have made myself known to her, which would have\nbeen all distraction.\nBut the Quaker, a lucky creature to me, happened to see them come to the\ndoor, before they rung the bell, and instead of going to let them in,\ncame running in with some confusion in her countenance, and told me who\nwas a-coming; at which Amy run first and I after her, and bid the Quaker\ncome up as soon as she had let them in.\nI was going to bid her deny me, but it came into my thoughts, that\nhaving been represented so much out of order, it would have looked very\nodd; besides, I knew the honest Quaker, though she would do anything\nelse for me, would not lie for me, and it would have been hard to have\ndesired it of her.\nAfter she had let them in, and brought them into the parlour, she came\nup to Amy and I, who were hardly out of the fright, and yet were\ncongratulating one another that Amy was not surprised again.\nThey paid their visit in form, and I received them as formally, but took\noccasion two or three times to hint that I was so ill that I was afraid\nI should not be able to go to Holland, at least not so soon as the\ncaptain must go off; and made my compliment how sorry I was to be\ndisappointed of the advantage of their company and assistance in the\nvoyage; and sometimes I talked as if I thought I might stay till the\ncaptain returned, and would be ready to go again; then the Quaker put\nin, that then I might be too far gone, meaning with child, that I should\nnot venture at all; and then (as if she should be pleased with it)\nadded, she hoped I would stay and lie in at her house; so as this\ncarried its own face with it, 'twas well enough.\nBut it was now high time to talk of this to my husband, which, however,\nwas not the greatest difficulty before me; for after this and other chat\nhad taken up some time, the young fool began her tattle again; and two\nor three times she brought it in, that I was so like a lady that she had\nthe honour to know at the other end of the town, that she could not put\nthat lady out of her mind when I was by, and once or twice I fancied the\ngirl was ready to cry; by and by she was at it again, and at last I\nplainly saw tears in her eyes; upon which I asked her if the lady was\ndead, because she seemed to be in some concern for her. She made me much\neasier by her answer than ever she did before; she said she did not\nreally know, but she believed she was dead.\nThis, I say, a little relieved my thoughts, but I was soon down again;\nfor, after some time, the jade began to grow talkative; and as it was\nplain that she had told all that her head could retain of Roxana, and\nthe days of joy which I had spent at that part of the town, another\naccident had like to have blown us all up again.\nI was in a kind of dishabille when they came, having on a loose robe,\nlike a morning-gown, but much after the Italian way; and I had not\naltered it when I went up, only dressed my head a little; and as I had\nbeen represented as having been lately very ill, so the dress was\nbecoming enough for a chamber.\nThis morning vest, or robe, call it as you please, was more shaped to\nthe body than we wear them since, showing the body in its true shape,\nand perhaps a little too plainly if it had been to be worn where any men\nwere to come; but among ourselves it was well enough, especially for hot\nweather; the colour was green, figured, and the stuff a French damask,\nvery rich.\nThis gown or vest put the girl's tongue a running again, and her sister,\nas she called her, prompted it; for as they both admired my vest, and\nwere taken up much about the beauty of the dress, the charming damask,\nthe noble trimming, and the like, my girl puts in a word to the sister\n(captain's wife), \"This is just such a thing as I told you,\" says she,\n\"the lady danced in.\" \"What,\" says the captain's wife, \"the Lady Roxana\nthat you told me of? Oh! that's a charming story,\" says she, \"tell it my\nlady.\" I could not avoid saying so too, though from my soul I wished her\nin heaven for but naming it; nay, I won't say but if she had been\ncarried t'other way it had been much as one to me, if I could but have\nbeen rid of her, and her story too, for when she came to describe the\nTurkish dress, it was impossible but the Quaker, who was a sharp,\npenetrating creature, should receive the impression in a more dangerous\nmanner than the girl, only that indeed she was not so dangerous a\nperson; for if she had known it all, I could more freely have trusted\nher than I could the girl, by a great deal, nay, I should have been\nperfectly easy in her.\nHowever, as I have said, her talk made me dreadfully uneasy, and the\nmore when the captain's wife mentioned but the name of Roxana. What my\nface might do towards betraying me I knew not, because I could not see\nmyself, but my heart beat as if it would have jumped out at my mouth,\nand my passion was so great, that, for want of vent, I thought I should\nhave burst. In a word, I was in a kind of a silent rage, for the force I\nwas under of restraining my passion was such as I never felt the like\nof. I had no vent, nobody to open myself to, or to make a complaint to,\nfor my relief; I durst not leave the room by any means, for then she\nwould have told all the story in my absence, and I should have been\nperpetually uneasy to know what she had said, or had not said; so that,\nin a word, I was obliged to sit and hear her tell all the story of\nRoxana, that is to say, of myself, and not know at the same time whether\nshe was in earnest or in jest, whether she knew me or no; or, in short,\nwhether I was to be exposed, or not exposed.\nShe began only in general with telling where she lived, what a place she\nhad of it, how gallant a company her lady had always had in the house;\nhow they used to sit up all night in the house gaming and dancing; what\na fine lady her mistress was, and what a vast deal of money the upper\nservants got; as for her, she said, her whole business was in the next\nhouse, so that she got but little, except one night that there was\ntwenty guineas given to be divided among the servants, when, she said,\nshe got two guineas and a half for her share.\nShe went on, and told them how many servants there was, and how they\nwere ordered; but, she said, there was one Mrs. Amy who was over them\nall; and that she, being the lady's favourite, got a great deal. She did\nnot know, she said, whether Amy was her Christian name or her surname,\nbut she supposed it was her surname; that they were told she got\nthreescore pieces of gold at one time, being the same night that the\nrest of the servants had the twenty guineas divided among them.\nI put in at that word, and said it was a vast deal to give away. \"Why,\"\nsays I, \"it was a portion for a servant.\" \"O madam!\" says she, \"it was\nnothing to what she got afterwards; we that were servants hated her\nheartily for it; that is to say, we wished it had been our lot in her\nstead.\" Then I said again, \"Why, it was enough to get her a good\nhusband, and settle her for the world, if she had sense to manage it.\"\n\"So it might, to be sure, madam,\" says she, \"for we were told she laid\nup above \u00a3500; but, I suppose, Mrs. Amy was too sensible that her\ncharacter would require a good portion to put her off.\"\n\"Oh,\" said I, \"if that was the case it was another thing.\"\n\"Nay,\" says she, \"I don't know, but they talked very much of a young\nlord that was very great with her.\"\n\"And pray what came of her at last?\" said I, for I was willing to hear a\nlittle (seeing she would talk of it) what she had to say, as well of Amy\nas of myself.\n\"I don't know, madam,\" said she, \"I never heard of her for several\nyears, till t'other day I happened to see her.\"\n\"Did you indeed?\" says I (and made mighty strange of it); \"what! and in\nrags, it may be,\" said I; \"that's often the end of such creatures.\"\n\"Just the contrary, madam,\" says she. \"She came to visit an acquaintance\nof mine, little thinking, I suppose, to see me, and, I assure you, she\ncame in her coach.\"\n\"In her coach!\" said I; \"upon my word, she had made her market then; I\nsuppose she made hay while the sun shone. Was she married, pray?\"\n\"I believe she had been married, madam,\" says she, \"but it seems she had\nbeen at the East Indies; and if she was married, it was there, to be\nsure. I think she said she had good luck in the Indies.\"\n\"That is, I suppose,\" said I, \"had buried her husband there.\"\n\"I understood it so, madam,\" says she, \"and that she had got his\nestate.\"\n\"Was that her good luck?\" said I; \"it might be good to her, as to the\nmoney indeed, but it was but the part of a jade to call it good luck.\"\nThus far our discourse of Mrs. Amy went, and no farther, for she knew no\nmore of her; but then the Quaker unhappily, though undesignedly, put in\na question, which the honest good-humoured creature would have been far\nfrom doing if she had known that I had carried on the discourse of Amy\non purpose to drop Roxana out of the conversation.\nBut I was not to be made easy too soon. The Quaker put in, \"But I think\nthou saidst something was behind of thy mistress; what didst thou call\nher? Roxana, was it not? Pray, what became of her?\"\n\"Ay, ay, Roxana,\" says the captain's wife; \"pray, sister, let's hear the\nstory of Roxana; it will divert my lady, I'm sure.\"\n\"That's a damned lie,\" said I to myself; \"if you knew how little 't\nwould divert me, you would have too much advantage over me.\" Well, I saw\nno remedy, but the story must come on, so I prepared to hear the worst\nof it.\n\"Roxana!\" says she, \"I know not what to say of her; she was so much\nabove us, and so seldom seen, that we could know little of her but by\nreport; but we did sometimes see her too; she was a charming woman\nindeed, and the footmen used to say that she was to be sent for to\ncourt.\"\n\"To court!\" said I; \"why, she was at court, wasn't she? the Pall Mall is\nnot far from Whitehall.\"\n\"Yes, madam,\" says she, \"but I mean another way.\"\n\"I understand thee,\" says the Quaker; \"thou meanest, I suppose, to be\nmistress to the king.\"\n\"Yes, madam,\" said she.\nI cannot help confessing what a reserve of pride still was left in me;\nand though I dreaded the sequel of the story, yet when she talked how\nhandsome and how fine a lady this Roxana was, I could not help being\npleased and tickled with it, and put in questions two or three times of\nhow handsome she was; and was she really so fine a woman as they talked\nof; and the like, on purpose to hear her repeat what the people's\nopinion of me was, and how I had behaved.\n\"Indeed,\" says she, at last, \"she was a most beautiful creature as ever\nI saw in my life.\" \"But then,\" said I, \"you never had the opportunity to\nsee her but when she was set out to the best advantage.\"\n\"Yes, yes, madam,\" says she, \"I have seen her several times in her\n_d\u00e9shabille_. And I can assure you, she was a very fine woman; and that\nwhich was more still, everybody said she did not paint.\"\nThis was still agreeable to me one way; but there was a devilish sting\nin the tail of it all, and this last article was one; wherein she said\nshe had seen me several times in my _d\u00e9shabille_. This put me in mind\nthat then she must certainly know me, and it would come out at last;\nwhich was death to me but to think of.\n\"Well, but, sister,\" says the captain's wife, \"tell my lady about the\nball; that's the best of all the story; and of Roxana's dancing in a\nfine outlandish dress.\"\n\"That's one of the brightest parts of her story indeed,\" says the girl.\n\"The case was this: we had balls and meetings in her ladyship's\napartments every week almost; but one time my lady invited all the\nnobles to come such a time, and she would give them a ball; and there\nwas a vast crowd indeed,\" says she.\n\"I think you said the king was there, sister, didn't you?\"\n\"No, madam,\" says she, \"that was the second time, when they said the\nking had heard how finely the Turkish lady danced, and that he was\nthere to see her; but the king, if his Majesty was there, came\ndisguised.\"\n\"That is, what they call incog.,\" says my friend the Quaker; \"thou canst\nnot think the king would disguise himself.\" \"Yes,\" says the girl, \"it\nwas so; he did not come in public with his guards, but we all knew which\nwas the king well enough, that is to say, which they said was the king.\"\n\"Well,\" says the captain's wife, \"about the Turkish dress; pray let us\nhear that.\" \"Why,\" says she, \"my lady sat in a fine little drawing-room,\nwhich opened into the great room, and where she received the compliments\nof the company; and when the dancing began, a great lord,\" says she, \"I\nforget who they called him (but he was a very great lord or duke, I\ndon't know which), took her out, and danced with her; but after a while,\nmy lady on a sudden shut the drawing-room, and ran upstairs with her\nwoman, Mrs. Amy; and though she did not stay long (for I suppose she had\ncontrived it all beforehand), she came down dressed in the strangest\nfigure that ever I saw in my life; but it was exceeding fine.\"\nHere she went on to describe the dress, as I have done already; but did\nit so exactly, that I was surprised at the manner of her telling it;\nthere was not a circumstance of it left out.\nI was now under a new perplexity, for this young slut gave so complete\nan account of everything in the dress, that my friend the Quaker\ncoloured at it, and looked two or three times at me, to see if I did not\ndo so too; for (as she told me afterwards) she immediately perceived it\nwas the same dress that she had seen me have on, as I have said before.\nHowever, as she saw I took no notice of it, she kept her thought private\nto herself; and I did so too, as well as I could.\nI put in two or three times, that she had a good memory, that could be\nso particular in every part of such a thing.\n\"Oh, madam!\" says she, \"we that were servants, stood by ourselves in a\ncorner, but so as we could see more than some strangers; besides,\" says\nshe, \"it was all our conversation for several days in the family, and\nwhat one did not observe another did.\" \"Why,\" says I to her, \"this was\nno Persian dress; only, I suppose your lady was some French comedian,\nthat is to say, a stage Amazon, that put on a counterfeit dress to\nplease the company, such as they used in the play of Tamerlane at Paris,\nor some such.\"\n\"No, indeed, madam,\" says she, \"I assure you my lady was no actress; she\nwas a fine modest lady, fit to be a princess; everybody said if she was\na mistress, she was fit to be a mistress to none but the king; and they\ntalked her up for the king as if it had really been so. Besides, madam,\"\nsays she, \"my lady danced a Turkish dance; all the lords and gentry said\nit was so; and one of them swore he had seen it danced in Turkey\nhimself, so that it could not come from the theatre at Paris; and then\nthe name Roxana,\" says she, \"was a Turkish name.\"\n\"Well,\" said I, \"but that was not your lady's name, I suppose?\"\n\"No, no, madam,\" said she, \"I know that. I know my lady's name and\nfamily very well; Roxana was not her name, that's true, indeed.\"\nHere she run me aground again, for I durst not ask her what was Roxana's\nreal name, lest she had really dealt with the devil, and had boldly\ngiven my own name in for answer; so that I was still more and more\nafraid that the girl had really gotten the secret somewhere or other;\nthough I could not imagine neither how that could be.\nIn a word, I was sick of the discourse, and endeavoured many ways to put\nan end to it, but it was impossible; for the captain's wife, who called\nher sister, prompted her, and pressed her to tell it, most ignorantly\nthinking that it would be a pleasant tale to all of us.\nTwo or three times the Quaker put in, that this Lady Roxana had a good\nstock of assurance; and that it was likely, if she had been in Turkey,\nshe had lived with, or been kept by, some great bashaw there. But still\nshe would break in upon all such discourse, and fly out into the most\nextravagant praises of her mistress, the famed Roxana. I run her down as\nsome scandalous woman; that it was not possible to be otherwise; but she\nwould not hear of it; her lady was a person of such and such\nqualifications that nothing but an angel was like her, to be sure; and\nyet, after all she could say, her own account brought her down to this,\nthat, in short, her lady kept little less than a gaming ordinary; or, as\nit would be called in the times since that, an assembly for gallantry\nand play.\nAll this while I was very uneasy, as I said before, and yet the whole\nstory went off again without any discovery, only that I seemed a little\nconcerned that she should liken me to this gay lady, whose character I\npretended to run down very much, even upon the foot of her own relation.\nBut I was not at the end of my mortifications yet, neither, for now my\ninnocent Quaker threw out an unhappy expression, which put me upon the\ntenters again. Says she to me, \"This lady's habit, I fancy, is just such\na one as thine, by the description of it;\" and then turning to the\ncaptain's wife, says she, \"I fancy my friend has a finer Turkish or\nPersian dress, a great deal.\" \"Oh,\" says the girl, \"'tis impossible to\nbe finer; my lady's,\" says she, \"was all covered with gold and diamonds;\nher hair and head-dress, I forget the name they gave it,\" said she,\n\"shone like the stars, there were so many jewels in it.\"\nI never wished my good friend the Quaker out of my company before now;\nbut, indeed, I would have given some guineas to have been rid of her\njust now; for beginning to be curious in the comparing the two dresses,\nshe innocently began a description of mine; and nothing terrified me so\nmuch as the apprehension lest she should importune me to show it, which\nI was resolved I would never agree to. But before it came to this, she\npressed my girl to describe the tyhaia, or head-dress, which she did so\ncleverly that the Quaker could not help saying mine was just such a one;\nand after several other similitudes, all very vexatious to me, out comes\nthe kind motion to me to let the ladies see my dress; and they joined\ntheir eager desires of it, even to importunity.\nI desired to be excused, though I had little to say at first why I\ndeclined it; but at last it came into my head to say it was packed up\nwith my other clothes that I had least occasion for, in order to be sent\non board the captain's ship; but that if we lived to come to Holland\ntogether (which, by the way, I resolved should never happen), then, I\ntold them, at unpacking my clothes, they should see me dressed in it;\nbut they must not expect I should dance in it, like the Lady Roxana in\nall her fine things.\nThis carried it off pretty well; and getting over this, got over most of\nthe rest, and I began to be easy again; and, in a word, that I may\ndismiss the story too, as soon as may be, I got rid at last of my\nvisitors, who I had wished gone two hours sooner than they intended it.\nAs soon as they were gone, I ran up to Amy, and gave vent to my passions\nby telling her the whole story, and letting her see what mischiefs one\nfalse step of hers had like, unluckily, to have involved us all in;\nmore, perhaps, than we could ever have lived to get through. Amy was\nsensible of it enough, and was just giving her wrath a vent another way,\nviz., by calling the poor girl all the damned jades and fools (and\nsometimes worse names) that she could think of, in the middle of which\nup comes my honest, good Quaker, and put an end to our discourse. The\nQuaker came in smiling (for she was always soberly cheerful). \"Well,\"\nsays she, \"thou art delivered at last; I come to joy thee of it; I\nperceived thou wert tired grievously of thy visitors.\"\n\"Indeed,\" says I, \"so I was; that foolish young girl held us all in a\nCanterbury story; I thought she would never have done with it.\" \"Why,\ntruly, I thought she was very careful to let thee know she was but a\ncook-maid.\" \"Ay,\" says I, \"and at a gaming-house, or gaming-ordinary,\nand at t'other end of the town too; all which (by the way) she might\nknow would add very little to her good name among us citizens.\"\n\"I can't think,\" says the Quaker, \"but she had some other drift in that\nlong discourse; there's something else in her head,\" says she, \"I am\nsatisfied of that.\" Thought I, \"Are you satisfied of it? I am sure I am\nthe less satisfied for that; at least 'tis but small satisfaction to me\nto hear you say so. What can this be?\" says I; \"and when will my\nuneasiness have an end?\" But this was silent, and to myself, you may be\nsure. But in answer to my friend the Quaker, I returned by asking her a\nquestion or two about it; as what she thought was in it, and why she\nthought there was anything in it. \"For,\" says I, \"she can have nothing\nin it relating to me.\"\n\"Nay,\" says the kind Quaker, \"if she had any view towards thee, that's\nno business of mine; and I should be far from desiring thee to inform\nme.\"\nThis alarmed me again; not that I feared trusting the good-humoured\ncreature with it, if there had been anything of just suspicion in her;\nbut this affair was a secret I cared not to communicate to anybody.\nHowever, I say, this alarmed me a little; for as I had concealed\neverything from her, I was willing to do so still; but as she could not\nbut gather up abundance of things from the girl's discourse, which\nlooked towards me, so she was too penetrating to be put off with such\nanswers as might stop another's mouth. Only there was this double\nfelicity in it, first, that she was not inquisitive to know or find\nanything out, and not dangerous if she had known the whole story. But,\nas I say, she could not but gather up several circumstances from the\ngirl's discourse, as particularly the name of Amy, and the several\ndescriptions of the Turkish dress which my friend the Quaker had seen,\nand taken so much notice of, as I have said above.\nAs for that, I might have turned it off by jesting with Amy, and asking\nher who she lived with before she came to live with me. But that would\nnot do, for we had unhappily anticipated that way of talking, by having\noften talked how long Amy had lived with me; and, which was still worse,\nby having owned formerly that I had had lodgings in the Pall Mall; so\nthat all those things corresponded too well. There was only one thing\nthat helped me out with the Quaker, and that was the girl's having\nreported how rich Mrs. Amy was grown, and that she kept her coach. Now,\nas there might be many more Mrs. Amys besides mine, so it was not likely\nto be my Amy, because she was far from such a figure as keeping her\ncoach; and this carried it off from the suspicions which the good\nfriendly Quaker might have in her head.\nBut as to what she imagined the girl had in her head, there lay more\nreal difficulty in that part a great deal, and I was alarmed at it very\nmuch, for my friend the Quaker told me that she observed the girl was in\na great passion when she talked of the habit, and more when I had been\nimportuned to show her mine, but declined it. She said she several times\nperceived her to be in disorder, and to restrain herself with great\ndifficulty; and once or twice she muttered to herself that she had found\nit out, or that she would find it out, she could not tell whether; and\nthat she often saw tears in her eyes; that when I said my suit of\nTurkish clothes was put up, but that she should see it when we arrived\nin Holland, she heard her say softly she would go over on purpose then.\nAfter she had ended her observations, I added: \"I observed, too, that\nthe girl talked and looked oddly, and that she was mighty inquisitive,\nbut I could not imagine what it was she aimed at.\" \"Aimed at,\" says the\nQuaker, \"'tis plain to me what she aims at. She believes thou art the\nsame Lady Roxana that danced in the Turkish vest, but she is not\ncertain.\" \"Does she believe so?\" says I; \"if I had thought that, I would\nhave put her out of her pain.\" \"Believe so!\" says the Quaker; \"yes, and\nI began to think so too, and should have believed so still, if thou\nhad'st not satisfied me to the contrary by thy taking no notice of it,\nand by what thou hast said since.\" \"Should you have believed so?\" said I\nwarmly; \"I am very sorry for that. Why, would you have taken me for an\nactress, or a French stage-player?\" \"No,\" says the good kind creature,\n\"thou carriest it too far; as soon as thou madest thy reflections upon\nher, I knew it could not be; but who could think any other when she\ndescribed the Turkish dress which thou hast here, with the head-tire and\njewels, and when she named thy maid Amy too, and several other\ncircumstances concurring? I should certainly have believed it,\" said\nshe, \"if thou hadst not contradicted it; but as soon as I heard thee\nspeak, I concluded it was otherwise.\" \"That was very kind,\" said I, \"and\nI am obliged to you for doing me so much justice; it is more, it seems,\nthan that young talking creature does.\" \"Nay,\" says the Quaker, \"indeed\nshe does not do thee justice; for she as certainly believes it still as\never she did.\" \"Does she?\" said I. \"Ay,\" says the Quaker; \"and I warrant\nthee she'll make thee another visit about it.\" \"Will she?\" said I;\n\"then I believe I shall downright affront her.\" \"No, thou shalt not\naffront her,\" says she (full of her good-humour and temper), \"I'll take\nthat part off thy hands, for I'll affront her for thee, and not let her\nsee thee.\" I thought that was a very kind offer, but was at a loss how\nshe would be able to do it; and the thought of seeing her there again\nhalf distracted me, not knowing what temper she would come in, much less\nwhat manner to receive her in; but my fast friend and constant\ncomforter, the Quaker, said she perceived the girl was impertinent, and\nthat I had no inclination to converse with her, and she was resolved I\nshould not be troubled with her. But I shall have occasion to say more\nof this presently, for this girl went farther yet than I thought she\nhad.\nIt was now time, as I said before, to take measures with my husband, in\norder to put off my voyage; so I fell into talk with him one morning as\nhe was dressing, and while I was in bed. I pretended I was very ill; and\nas I had but too easy a way to impose upon him, because he so absolutely\nbelieved everything I said, so I managed my discourse as that he should\nunderstand by it I was a-breeding, though I did not tell him so.\nHowever, I brought it about so handsomely that, before he went out of\nthe room, he came and sat down by my bedside, and began to talk very\nseriously to me upon the subject of my being so every day ill, and\nthat, as he hoped I was with child, he would have me consider well of\nit, whether I had not best alter my thoughts of the voyage to Holland;\nfor that being sea-sick, and which was worse, if a storm should happen,\nmight be very dangerous to me. And after saying abundance of the kindest\nthings that the kindest of husbands in the world could say, he concluded\nthat it was his request to me, that I would not think any more of going\ntill after all should be over; but that I would, on the contrary,\nprepare to lie-in where I was, and where I knew, as well as he, I could\nbe very well provided, and very well assisted.\nThis was just what I wanted, for I had, as you have heard, a thousand\ngood reasons why I should put off the voyage, especially with that\ncreature in company; but I had a mind the putting it off should be at\nhis motion, not my own; and he came into it of himself, just as I would\nhave had it. This gave me an opportunity to hang back a little, and to\nseem as if I was unwilling. I told him I could not abide to put him to\ndifficulties and perplexities in his business; that now he had hired the\ngreat cabin in the ship, and, perhaps, paid some of the money, and, it\nmay be, taken freight for goods; and to make him break it all off again\nwould be a needless charge to him, or, perhaps, a damage to the captain.\nAs to that, he said, it was not to be named, and he would not allow it\nto be any consideration at all; that he could easily pacify the captain\nof the ship by telling him the reason of it, and that if he did make\nhim some satisfaction for the disappointment, it should not be much.\n\"But, my dear,\" says I, \"you ha'n't heard me say I am with child,\nneither can I say so; and if it should not be so at last, then I shall\nhave made a fine piece of work of it indeed; besides,\" says I, \"the two\nladies, the captain's wife and her sister, they depend upon our going\nover, and have made great preparations, and all in compliment to me;\nwhat must I say to them?\"\n\"Well, my dear,\" says he, \"if you should not be with child, though I\nhope you are, yet there is no harm done; the staying three or four\nmonths longer in England will be no damage to me, and we can go when we\nplease, when we are sure you are not with child, or, when it appearing\nthat you are with child, you shall be down and up again; and as for the\ncaptain's wife and sister, leave that part to me; I'll answer for it\nthere shall be no quarrel raised upon that subject. I'll make your\nexcuse to them by the captain himself, so all will be well enough there,\nI'll warrant you.\"\nThis was as much as I could desire, and thus it rested for awhile. I had\nindeed some anxious thoughts about this impertinent girl, but believed\nthat putting off the voyage would have put an end to it all, so I began\nto be pretty easy; but I found myself mistaken, for I was brought to the\npoint of destruction by her again, and that in the most unaccountable\nmanner imaginable.\nMy husband, as he and I had agreed, meeting the captain of the ship,\ntook the freedom to tell him that he was afraid he must disappoint him,\nfor that something had fallen out which had obliged him to alter his\nmeasures, and that his family could not be ready to go time enough for\nhim.\n\"I know the occasion, sir,\" says the captain; \"I hear your lady has got\na daughter more than she expected; I give you joy of it.\" \"What do you\nmean by that?\" says my spouse. \"Nay, nothing,\" says the captain, \"but\nwhat I hear the women tattle over the tea-table. I know nothing, but\nthat you don't go the voyage upon it, which I am sorry for; but you know\nyour own affairs,\" added the captain, \"that's no business of mine.\"\n\"Well, but,\" says my husband, \"I must make you some satisfaction for the\ndisappointment,\" and so pulls out his money. \"No, no,\" says the captain;\nand so they fell to straining their compliments one upon another; but,\nin short, my spouse gave him three or four guineas, and made him take\nit. And so the first discourse went off again, and they had no more of\nit.\nBut it did not go off so easily with me, for now, in a word, the clouds\nbegan to thicken about me, and I had alarms on every side. My husband\ntold me what the captain had said, but very happily took it that the\ncaptain had brought a tale by halves, and having heard it one way, had\ntold it another; and that neither could he understand the captain,\nneither did the captain understand himself, so he contented himself to\ntell me, he said, word for word, as the captain delivered it.\nHow I kept my husband from discovering my disorder you shall hear\npresently; but let it suffice to say just now, that if my husband did\nnot understand the captain, nor the captain understand himself, yet I\nunderstood them both very well; and, to tell the truth, it was a worse\nshock than ever I had yet. Invention supplied me, indeed, with a sudden\nmotion to avoid showing my surprise; for as my spouse and I was sitting\nby a little table near the fire, I reached out my hand, as if I had\nintended to take a spoon which lay on the other side, and threw one of\nthe candles off of the table; and then snatching it up, started up upon\nmy feet, and stooped to the lap of my gown and took it in my hand. \"Oh!\"\nsays I, \"my gown's spoiled; the candle has greased it prodigiously.\"\nThis furnished me with an excuse to my spouse to break off the discourse\nfor the present, and call Amy down; and Amy not coming presently, I said\nto him, \"My dear, I must run upstairs and put it off, and let Amy clean\nit a little.\" So my husband rose up too, and went into a closet where he\nkept his papers and books, and fetched a book out, and sat down by\nhimself to read.\nGlad I was that I had got away, and up I run to Amy, who, as it\nhappened, was alone. \"Oh, Amy!\" says I, \"we are all utterly undone.\" And\nwith that I burst out a-crying, and could not speak a word for a great\nwhile.\nI cannot help saying that some very good reflections offered themselves\nupon this head. It presently occurred, what a glorious testimony it is\nto the justice of Providence, and to the concern Providence has in\nguiding all the affairs of men (even the least as well as the greatest),\nthat the most secret crimes are, by the most unforeseen accidents,\nbrought to light and discovered.\nAnother reflection was, how just it is that sin and shame follow one\nanother so constantly at the heels; that they are not like attendants\nonly, but, like cause and consequence, necessarily connected one with\nanother; that the crime going before, the scandal is certain to follow;\nand that 'tis not in the power of human nature to conceal the first, or\navoid the last.\n\"What shall I do, Amy?\" said I, as soon as I could speak, \"and what will\nbecome of me?\" And then I cried again so vehemently that I could say no\nmore a great while. Amy was frighted almost out of her wits, but knew\nnothing what the matter was; but she begged to know, and persuaded me to\ncompose myself, and not cry so. \"Why, madam, if my master should come up\nnow,\" says she, \"he will see what a disorder you are in; he will know\nyou have been crying, and then he will want to know the cause of it.\"\nWith that I broke out again. \"Oh, he knows it already, Amy,\" says I, \"he\nknows all! 'Tis all discovered, and we are undone!\" Amy was\nthunderstruck now indeed. \"Nay,\" says Amy, \"if that be true, we are\nundone indeed; but that can never be; that's impossible, I'm sure.\"\n\"No, no,\" says I, \"'tis far from impossible, for I tell you 'tis so.\"\nAnd by this time, being a little recovered, I told her what discourse my\nhusband and the captain had had together, and what the captain had said.\nThis put Amy into such a hurry that she cried, she raved, she swore and\ncursed like a mad thing; then she upbraided me that I would not let her\nkill the girl when she would have done it, and that it was all my own\ndoing, and the like. Well, however, I was not for killing the girl yet.\nI could not bear the thoughts of that neither.\nWe spent half-an-hour in these extravagances, and brought nothing out of\nthem neither; for indeed we could do nothing or say nothing that was to\nthe purpose; for if anything was to come out-of-the-way, there was no\nhindering it, or help for it; so after thus giving a vent to myself by\ncrying, I began to reflect how I had left my spouse below, and what I\nhad pretended to come up for; so I changed my gown that I pretended the\ncandle fell upon, and put on another, and went down.\nWhen I had been down a good while, and found my spouse did not fall into\nthe story again, as I expected, I took heart, and called for it. \"My\ndear,\" said I, \"the fall of the candle put you out of your history,\nwon't you go on with it?\" \"What history?\" says he. \"Why,\" says I, \"about\nthe captain.\" \"Oh,\" says he, \"I had done with it. I know no more than\nthat the captain told a broken piece of news that he had heard by\nhalves, and told more by halves than he heard it,--namely, of your being\nwith child, and that you could not go the voyage.\"\nI perceived my husband entered not into the thing at all, but took it\nfor a story, which, being told two or three times over, was puzzled, and\ncome to nothing, and that all that was meant by it was what he knew, or\nthought he knew already--viz., that I was with child, which he wished\nmight be true.\nHis ignorance was a cordial to my soul, and I cursed them in my thoughts\nthat should ever undeceive him; and as I saw him willing to have the\nstory end there, as not worth being farther mentioned, I closed it too,\nand said I supposed the captain had it from his wife; she might have\nfound somebody else to make her remarks upon; and so it passed off with\nmy husband well enough, and I was still safe there, where I thought\nmyself in most danger. But I had two uneasinesses still; the first was\nlest the captain and my spouse should meet again, and enter into farther\ndiscourse about it; and the second was lest the busy impertinent girl\nshould come again, and when she came, how to prevent her seeing Amy,\nwhich was an article as material as any of the rest; for seeing Amy\nwould have been as fatal to me as her knowing all the rest.\nAs to the first of these, I knew the captain could not stay in town\nabove a week, but that his ship being already full of goods, and fallen\ndown the river, he must soon follow, so I contrived to carry my husband\nsomewhere out of town for a few days, that they might be sure not to\nmeet.\nMy greatest concern was where we should go. At last I fixed upon North\nHall; not, I said, that I would drink the waters, but that I thought the\nair was good, and might be for my advantage. He, who did everything upon\nthe foundation of obliging me, readily came into it, and the coach was\nappointed to be ready the next morning; but as we were settling matters,\nhe put in an ugly word that thwarted all my design, and that was, that\nhe had rather I would stay till afternoon, for that he should speak to\nthe captain the next morning if he could, to give him some letters,\nwhich he could do, and be back again about twelve o'clock.\nI said, \"Ay, by all means.\" But it was but a cheat on him, and my voice\nand my heart differed; for I resolved, if possible, he should not come\nnear the captain, nor see him, whatever came of it.\nIn the evening, therefore, a little before we went to bed, I pretended\nto have altered my mind, and that I would not go to North Hall, but I\nhad a mind to go another way, but I told him I was afraid his business\nwould not permit him. He wanted to know where it was. I told him,\nsmiling, I would not tell him, lest it should oblige him to hinder his\nbusiness. He answered with the same temper, but with infinitely more\nsincerity, that he had no business of so much consequence as to hinder\nhim going with me anywhere that I had a mind to go. \"Yes,\" says I, \"you\nwant to speak with the captain before he goes away.\" \"Why, that's true,\"\nsays he, \"so I do,\" and paused awhile; and then added, \"but I'll write a\nnote to a man that does business for me to go to him; 'tis only to get\nsome bills of loading signed, and he can do it.\" When I saw I had gained\nmy point, I seemed to hang back a little. \"My dear,\" says I, \"don't\nhinder an hour's business for me; I can put it off for a week or two\nrather than you shall do yourself any prejudice.\" \"No, no,\" says he,\n\"you shall not put it off an hour for me, for I can do my business by\nproxy with anybody but my wife.\" And then he took me in his arms and\nkissed me. How did my blood flush up into my face when I reflected how\nsincerely, how affectionately, this good-humoured gentleman embraced the\nmost cursed piece of hypocrisy that ever came into the arms of an honest\nman! His was all tenderness, all kindness, and the utmost sincerity;\nmine all grimace and deceit;--a piece of mere manage and framed conduct\nto conceal a past life of wickedness, and prevent his discovering that\nhe had in his arms a she-devil, whose whole conversation for twenty-five\nyears had been black as hell, a complication of crime, and for which,\nhad he been let into it, he must have abhorred me and the very mention\nof my name. But there was no help for me in it; all I had to satisfy\nmyself was that it was my business to be what I was, and conceal what I\nhad been; that all the satisfaction I could make him was to live\nvirtuously for the time to come, not being able to retrieve what had\nbeen in time past; and this I resolved upon, though, had the great\ntemptation offered, as it did afterwards, I had reason to question my\nstability. But of that hereafter.\nAfter my husband had kindly thus given up his measures to mine, we\nresolved to set out in the morning early. I told him that my project, if\nhe liked it, was to go to Tunbridge, and he, being entirely passive in\nthe thing, agreed to it with the greatest willingness; but said if I had\nnot named Tunbridge, he would have named Newmarket, there being a great\ncourt there, and abundance of fine things to be seen. I offered him\nanother piece of hypocrisy here, for I pretended to be willing to go\nthither, as the place of his choice, but indeed I would not have gone\nfor a thousand pounds; for the court being there at that time, I durst\nnot run the hazard of being known at a place where there were so many\neyes that had seen me before. So that, after some time, I told my\nhusband that I thought Newmarket was so full of people at that time,\nthat we should get no accommodation; that seeing the court and the crowd\nwas no entertainment at all to me, unless as it might be so to him, that\nif he thought fit, we would rather put it off to another time; and that\nif, when we went to Holland, we should go by Harwich, we might take a\nround by Newmarket and Bury, and so come down to Ipswich, and go from\nthence to the seaside. He was easily put off from this, as he was from\nanything else that I did not approve; and so, with all imaginable\nfacility, he appointed to be ready early in the morning to go with me\nfor Tunbridge.\nI had a double design in this, viz., first, to get away my spouse from\nseeing the captain any more; and secondly, to be out of the way myself,\nin case this impertinent girl, who was now my plague, should offer to\ncome again, as my friend the Quaker believed she would, and as indeed\nhappened within two or three days afterwards.\nHaving thus secured my going away the next day, I had nothing to do but\nto furnish my faithful agent the Quaker with some instructions what to\nsay to this tormentor (for such she proved afterwards), and how to\nmanage her, if she made any more visits than ordinary.\nI had a great mind to leave Amy behind too, as an assistant, because she\nunderstood so perfectly well what to advise upon any emergence; and Amy\nimportuned me to do so. But I know not what secret impulse prevailed\nover my thoughts against it; I could not do it for fear the wicked jade\nshould make her away, which my very soul abhorred the thoughts of;\nwhich, however, Amy found means to bring to pass afterwards, as I may in\ntime relate more particularly.\nIt is true I wanted as much to be delivered from her as ever a sick man\ndid from a third-day ague; and had she dropped into the grave by any\nfair way, as I may call it, I mean, had she died by any ordinary\ndistemper, I should have shed but very few tears for her. But I was not\narrived to such a pitch of obstinate wickedness as to commit murder,\nespecially such as to murder my own child, or so much as to harbour a\nthought so barbarous in my mind. But, as I said, Amy effected all\nafterwards without my knowledge, for which I gave her my hearty curse,\nthough I could do little more; for to have fallen upon Amy had been to\nhave murdered myself. But this tragedy requires a longer story than I\nhave room for here. I return to my journey.\nMy dear friend the Quaker was kind, and yet honest, and would do\nanything that was just and upright to serve me, but nothing wicked or\ndishonourable. That she might be able to say boldly to the creature, if\nshe came, she did not know where I was gone, she desired I would not let\nher know; and to make her ignorance the more absolutely safe to herself,\nand likewise to me, I allowed her to say that she heard us talk of going\nto Newmarket, &c. She liked that part, and I left all the rest to her,\nto act as she thought fit; only charged her, that if the girl entered\ninto the story of the Pall Mall, she should not entertain much talk\nabout it, but let her understand that we all thought she spoke of it a\nlittle too particularly; and that the lady (meaning me) took it a\nlittle ill to be so likened to a public mistress, or a stage-player, and\nthe like; and so to bring her, if possible, to say no more of it.\nHowever, though I did not tell my friend the Quaker how to write to me,\nor where I was, yet I left a sealed paper with her maid to give her, in\nwhich I gave her a direction how to write to Amy, and so, in effect, to\nmyself.\nIt was but a few days after I was gone, but the impatient girl came to\nmy lodgings on pretence to see how I did, and to hear if I intended to\ngo the voyage, and the like. My trusty agent was at home, and received\nher coldly at the door; but told her that the lady, which she supposed\nshe meant, was gone from her house.\nThis was a full stop to all she could say for a good while; but as she\nstood musing some time at the door, considering what to begin a talk\nupon, she perceived my friend the Quaker looked a little uneasy, as if\nshe wanted to go in and shut the door, which stung her to the quick; and\nthe wary Quaker had not so much as asked her to come in; for seeing her\nalone she expected she would be very impertinent, and concluded that I\ndid not care how coldly she received her.\nBut she was not to be put off so. She said if the Lady ---- was not to\nbe spoken with, she desired to speak two or three words with her,\nmeaning my friend the Quaker. Upon that the Quaker civilly but coldly\nasked her to walk in, which was what she wanted. Note.--She did not\ncarry her into her best parlour, as formerly, but into a little outer\nroom, where the servants usually waited.\nBy the first of her discourse she did not stick to insinuate as if she\nbelieved I was in the house, but was unwilling to be seen; and pressed\nearnestly that she might speak but two words with me; to which she added\nearnest entreaties, and at last tears.\n\"I am sorry,\" says my good creature the Quaker, \"thou hast so ill an\nopinion of me as to think I would tell thee an untruth, and say that the\nLady ---- was gone from my house if she was not! I assure thee I do not\nuse any such method; nor does the Lady ---- desire any such kind of\nservice from me, as I know of. If she had been in the house, I should\nhave told thee so.\"\nShe said little to that, but said it was business of the utmost\nimportance that she desired to speak with me about, and then cried again\nvery much.\n\"Thou seem'st to be sorely afflicted,\" says the Quaker, \"I wish I could\ngive thee any relief; but if nothing will comfort thee but seeing the\nLady ----, it is not in my power.\"\n\"I hope it is,\" says she again; \"to be sure it is of great consequence\nto me, so much that I am undone without it.\"\n\"Thou troublest me very much to hear thee say so,\" says the Quaker; \"but\nwhy, then, didst thou not speak to her apart when thou wast here\nbefore?\"\n\"I had no opportunity,\" says she, \"to speak to her alone, and I could\nnot do it in company; if I could have spoken but two words to her alone,\nI would have thrown myself at her foot, and asked her blessing.\"\n\"I am surprised at thee; I do not understand thee,\" says the Quaker.\n\"Oh!\" says she, \"stand my friend if you have any charity, or if you have\nany compassion for the miserable; for I am utterly undone!\"\n\"Thou terrifiest me,\" says the Quaker, \"with such passionate\nexpressions, for verily I cannot comprehend thee!\"\n\"Oh!\" says she, \"she is my mother! she is my mother! and she does not\nown me!\"\n\"Thy mother!\" says the Quaker, and began to be greatly moved indeed. \"I\nam astonished at thee: what dost thou mean?\"\n\"I mean nothing but what I say,\" says she. \"I say again, she is my\nmother, and will not own me;\" and with that she stopped with a flood of\ntears.\n\"Not own thee!\" says the Quaker; and the tender good creature wept too.\n\"Why,\" says she, \"she does not know thee, and never saw thee before.\"\n\"No,\" says the girl, \"I believe she does not know me, but I know her;\nand I know that she is my mother.\"\n\"It's impossible, thou talk'st mystery!\" says the Quaker; \"wilt thou\nexplain thyself a little to me?\"\n\"Yes, yes,\" says she, \"I can explain it well enough. I am sure she is my\nmother, and I have broke my heart to search for her; and now to lose her\nagain, when I was so sure I had found her, will break my heart more\neffectually.\"\n\"Well, but if she be thy mother,\" says the Quaker, \"how can it be that\nshe should not know thee?\"\n\"Alas!\" says she, \"I have been lost to her ever since I was a child; she\nhas never seen me.\"\n\"And hast thou never seen her?\" says the Quaker.\n\"Yes,\" says she, \"I have seen her; often enough I saw her; for when she\nwas the Lady Roxana I was her housemaid, being a servant, but I did not\nknow her then, nor she me; but it has all come out since. Has she not a\nmaid named Amy?\" Note.--The honest Quaker was--nonplussed, and greatly\nsurprised at that question.\n\"Truly,\" says she, \"the Lady ---- has several women servants, but I do\nnot know all their names.\"\n\"But her woman, her favourite,\" adds the girl; \"is not her name Amy?\"\n\"Why, truly,\" says the Quaker, with a very happy turn of wit, \"I do not\nlike to be examined; but lest thou shouldest take up any mistakes by\nreason of my backwardness to speak, I will answer thee for once, that\nwhat her woman's name is I know not, but they call her Cherry.\"\n_N.B._--My husband gave her that name in jest on our wedding-day, and we\nhad called her by it ever after; so that she spoke literally true at\nthat time.\nThe girl replied very modestly that she was sorry if she gave her any\noffence in asking; that she did not design to be rude to her, or pretend\nto examine her; but that she was in such an agony at this disaster that\nshe knew not what she did or said; and that she should be very sorry to\ndisoblige her, but begged of her again, as she was a Christian and a\nwoman, and had been a mother of children, that she would take pity on\nher, and, if possible, assist her, so that she might but come to me and\nspeak a few words to me.\nThe tender-hearted Quaker told me the girl spoke this with such moving\neloquence that it forced tears from her; but she was obliged to say that\nshe neither knew where I was gone or how to write to me; but that if she\ndid ever see me again she would not fail to give me an account of all\nshe had said to her, or that she should yet think fit to say, and to\ntake my answer to it, if I thought fit to give any.\nThen the Quaker took the freedom to ask a few particulars about this\nwonderful story, as she called it; at which the girl, beginning at the\nfirst distresses of my life, and indeed of her own, went through all the\nhistory of her miserable education, her service under the Lady Roxana,\nas she called me, and her relief by Mrs. Amy, with the reasons she had\nto believe that as Amy owned herself to be the same that lived with her\nmother, and especially that Amy was the Lady Roxana's maid too, and came\nout of France with her, she was by those circumstances, and several\nothers in her conversation, as fully convinced that the Lady Roxana was\nher mother, as she was that the Lady ---- at her house (the Quaker's)\nwas the very same Roxana that she had been servant to.\nMy good friend the Quaker, though terribly shocked at the story, and not\nwell knowing what to say, yet was too much my friend to seem convinced\nin a thing which she did not know to be true, and which, if it was true,\nshe could see plainly I had a mind should not be known; so she turned\nher discourse to argue the girl out of it. She insisted upon the slender\nevidence she had of the fact itself, and the rudeness of claiming so\nnear a relation of one so much above her, and of whose concern in it she\nhad no knowledge, at least no sufficient proof; that as the lady at her\nhouse was a person above any disguises, so she could not believe that\nshe would deny her being her daughter, if she was really her mother;\nthat she was able sufficiently to have provided for her if she had not a\nmind to have her known; and, therefore, seeing she had heard all she had\nsaid of the Lady Roxana, and was so far from owning herself to be the\nperson, so she had censured that sham lady as a cheat and a common\nwoman; and that 'twas certain she could never be brought to own a name\nand character she had so justly exposed.\nBesides, she told her that her lodger, meaning me, was not a sham lady,\nbut the real wife of a knight-baronet; and that she knew her to be\nhonestly such, and far above such a person as she had described. She\nthen added that she had another reason why it was not very possible to\nbe true. \"And that is,\" says she, \"thy age is in the way; for thou\nacknowledgest that thou art four-and twenty years old, and that thou\nwast the youngest of three of thy mother's children; so that, by thy\naccount, thy mother must be extremely young, or this lady cannot be thy\nmother; for thou seest,\" says she, \"and any one may see, she is but a\nyoung woman now, and cannot be supposed to be above forty years old, if\nshe is so much; and is now big with child at her going into the country;\nso that I cannot give any credit to thy notion of her being thy mother;\nand if I might counsel thee, it should be to give over that thought, as\nan improbable story that does but serve to disorder thee, and disturb\nthy head; for,\" added she, \"I perceive thou art much disturbed indeed.\"\nBut this was all nothing; she could be satisfied with nothing but seeing\nme; but the Quaker defended herself very well, and insisted on it that\nshe could not give her any account of me; and finding her still\nimportunate, she affected at last being a little disgusted that she\nshould not believe her, and added, that indeed, if she had known where I\nwas gone, she would not have given any one an account of it, unless I\nhad given her orders to do so. \"But seeing she has not acquainted me,\"\nsays she, \"where she has gone, 'tis an intimation to me she was not\ndesirous it should be publicly known;\" and with this she rose up, which\nwas as plain a desiring her to rise up too and begone as could be\nexpressed, except the downright showing her the door.\nWell, the girl rejected all this, and told her she could not indeed\nexpect that she (the Quaker) should be affected with the story she had\ntold her, however moving, or that she should take any pity on her. That\nit was her misfortune, that when she was at the house before, and in the\nroom with me, she did not beg to speak a word with me in private, or\nthrow herself upon the floor at my feet, and claim what the affection of\na mother would have done for her; but since she had slipped her\nopportunity, she would wait for another; that she found by her (the\nQuaker's) talk, that she had not quite left her lodgings, but was gone\ninto the country, she supposed for the air; and she was resolved she\nwould take so much knight-errantry upon her, that she would visit all\nthe airing-places in the nation, and even all the kingdom over, ay, and\nHolland too, but she would find me; for she was satisfied she could so\nconvince me that she was my own child, that I would not deny it; and she\nwas sure I was so tender and compassionate, I would not let her perish\nafter I was convinced that she was my own flesh and blood; and in saying\nshe would visit all the airing-places in England, she reckoned them all\nup by name, and began with Tunbridge, the very place I was gone to; then\nreckoning up Epsom, North Hall, Barnet, Newmarket, Bury, and at last,\nthe Bath; and with this she took her leave.\nMy faithful agent the Quaker failed not to write to me immediately; but\nas she was a cunning as well as an honest woman, it presently occurred\nto her that this was a story which, whether true or false, was not very\nfit to come to my husband's knowledge; that as she did not know what I\nmight have been, or might have been called in former times, and how far\nthere might have been something or nothing in it, so she thought if it\nwas a secret I ought to have the telling it myself; and if it was not,\nit might as well be public afterwards as now; and that, at least, she\nought to leave it where she found it, and not hand it forwards to\nanybody without my consent. These prudent measures were inexpressibly\nkind, as well as seasonable; for it had been likely enough that her\nletter might have come publicly to me, and though my husband would not\nhave opened it, yet it would have looked a little odd that I should\nconceal its contents from him, when I had pretended so much to\ncommunicate all my affairs.\nIn consequence of this wise caution, my good friend only wrote me in few\nwords, that the impertinent young woman had been with her, as she\nexpected she would; and that she thought it would be very convenient\nthat, if I could spare Cherry, I would send her up (meaning Amy),\nbecause she found there might be some occasion for her.\nAs it happened, this letter was enclosed to Amy herself, and not sent\nby the way I had at first ordered; but it came safe to my hands; and\nthough I was alarmed a little at it, yet I was not acquainted with the\ndanger I was in of an immediate visit from this teasing creature till\nafterwards; and I ran a greater risk, indeed, than ordinary, in that I\ndid not send Amy up under thirteen or fourteen days, believing myself as\nmuch concealed at Tunbridge as if I had been at Vienna.\nBut the concern of my faithful spy (for such my Quaker was now, upon the\nmere foot of her own sagacity), I say, her concern for me, was my safety\nin this exigence, when I was, as it were, keeping no guard for myself;\nfor, finding Amy not come up, and that she did not know how soon this\nwild thing might put her designed ramble in practice, she sent a\nmessenger to the captain's wife's house, where she lodged, to tell her\nthat she wanted to speak with her. She was at the heels of the\nmessenger, and came eager for some news; and hoped, she said, the lady\n(meaning me) had been come to town.\nThe Quaker, with as much caution as she was mistress of, not to tell a\ndownright lie, made her believe she expected to hear of me very quickly;\nand frequently, by the by, speaking of being abroad to take the air,\ntalked of the country about Bury, how pleasant it was, how wholesome,\nand how fine an air; how the downs about Newmarket were exceeding fine,\nand what a vast deal of company there was, now the court was there; till\nat last, the girl began to conclude that my ladyship was gone thither;\nfor, she said, she knew I loved to see a great deal of company.\n\"Nay,\" says my friend, \"thou takest me wrong; I did not suggest,\" says\nshe, \"that the person thou inquirest after is gone thither, neither do I\nbelieve she is, I assure thee.\" Well, the girl smiled, and let her know\nthat she believed it for all that; so, to clench it fast, \"Verily,\" says\nshe, with great seriousness, \"thou dost not do well, for thou suspectest\neverything and believest nothing. I speak solemnly to thee that I do not\nbelieve they are gone that way; so if thou givest thyself the trouble to\ngo that way, and art disappointed, do not say that I have deceived\nthee.\" She knew well enough that if this did abate her suspicion it\nwould not remove it, and that it would do little more than amuse her;\nbut by this she kept her in suspense till Amy came up, and that was\nenough.\nWhen Amy came up, she was quite confounded to hear the relation which\nthe Quaker gave her, and found means to acquaint me of it; only letting\nme know, to my great satisfaction, that she would not come to Tunbridge\nfirst, but that she would certainly go to Newmarket or Bury first.\nHowever, it gave me very great uneasiness; for as she resolved to ramble\nin search after me over the whole country, I was safe nowhere, no, not\nin Holland itself. So indeed I did not know what to do with her; and\nthus I had a bitter in all my sweet, for I was continually perplexed\nwith this hussy, and thought she haunted me like an evil spirit.\nIn the meantime Amy was next door to stark-mad about her; she durst not\nsee her at my lodgings for her life; and she went days without number to\nSpitalfields, where she used to come, and to her former lodging, and\ncould never meet with her. At length she took up a mad resolution that\nshe would go directly to the captain's house in Redriff and speak with\nher. It was a mad step, that's true; but as Amy said she was mad, so\nnothing she could do could be otherwise. For if Amy had found her at\nRedriff, she (the girl) would have concluded presently that the Quaker\nhad given her notice, and so that we were all of a knot; and that, in\nshort, all she had said was right. But as it happened, things came to\nhit better than we expected; for that Amy going out of a coach to take\nwater at Tower Wharf, meets the girl just come on shore, having crossed\nthe water from Redriff. Amy made as if she would have passed by her,\nthough they met so full that she did not pretend she did not see her,\nfor she looked fairly upon her first, but then turning her head away\nwith a slight, offered to go from her; but the girl stopped, and spoke\nfirst, and made some manners to her.\nAmy spoke coldly to her, and a little angry; and after some words,\nstanding in the street or passage, the girl saying she seemed to be\nangry, and would not have spoken to her, \"Why,\" says Amy, \"how can you\nexpect I should have any more to say to you after I had done so much\nfor you, and you have behaved so to me?\" The girl seemed to take no\nnotice of that now, but answered, \"I was going to wait on you now.\"\n\"Wait on me!\" says Amy; \"what do you mean by that?\" \"Why,\" says she\nagain, with a kind of familiarity, \"I was going to your lodgings.\"\nAmy was provoked to the last degree at her, and yet she thought it was\nnot her time to resent, because she had a more fatal and wicked design\nin her head against her; which, indeed, I never knew till after it was\nexecuted, nor durst Amy ever communicate it to me; for as I had always\nexpressed myself vehemently against hurting a hair of her head, so she\nwas resolved to take her own measures without consulting me any more.\nIn order to this, Amy gave her good words, and concealed her resentment\nas much as she could; and when she talked of going to her lodging, Amy\nsmiled and said nothing, but called for a pair of oars to go to\nGreenwich; and asked her, seeing she said she was going to her lodging,\nto go along with her, for she was going home, and was all alone.\nAmy did this with such a stock of assurance that the girl was\nconfounded, and knew not what to say; but the more she hesitated, the\nmore Amy pressed her to go; and talking very kindly to her, told her if\nshe did not go to see her lodgings she might go to keep her company, and\nshe would pay a boat to bring her back again; so, in a word, Amy\nprevailed on her to go into the boat with her, and carried her down to\nGreenwich.\n'Tis certain that Amy had no more business at Greenwich than I had, nor\nwas she going thither; but we were all hampered to the last degree with\nthe impertinence of this creature; and, in particular, I was horribly\nperplexed with it.\nAs they were in the boat, Amy began to reproach her with ingratitude in\ntreating her so rudely who had done so much for her, and been so kind to\nher; and to ask her what she had got by it, or what she expected to get.\nThen came in my share, the Lady Roxana. Amy jested with that, and\nbantered her a little, and asked her if she had found her yet.\nBut Amy was both surprised and enraged when the girl told her roundly\nthat she thanked her for what she had done for her, but that she would\nnot have her think she was so ignorant as not to know that what she\n(Amy) had done was by her mother's order, and who she was beholden to\nfor it. That she could never make instruments pass for principals, and\npay the debt to the agent when the obligation was all to the original.\nThat she knew well enough who she was, and who she was employed by. That\nshe knew the Lady ---- very well (naming the name that I now went by),\nwhich was my husband's true name, and by which she might know whether\nshe had found out her mother or no.\nAmy wished her at the bottom of the Thames; and had there been no\nwatermen in the boat, and nobody in sight, she swore to me she would\nhave thrown her into the river. I was horribly disturbed when she told\nme this story, and began to think this would, at last, all end in my\nruin; but when Amy spoke of throwing her into the river and drowning\nher, I was so provoked at her that all my rage turned against Amy, and I\nfell thoroughly out with her. I had now kept Amy almost thirty years,\nand found her on all occasions the faithfullest creature to me that ever\nwoman had--I say, faithful to me; for, however wicked she was, still she\nwas true to me; and even this rage of hers was all upon my account, and\nfor fear any mischief should befall me.\nBut be that how it would, I could not bear the mention of her murdering\nthe poor girl, and it put me so beside myself, that I rose up in a rage,\nand bade her get out of my sight, and out of my house; told her I had\nkept her too long, and that I would never see her face more. I had\nbefore told her that she was a murderer, and a bloody-minded creature;\nthat she could not but know that I could not bear the thought of it,\nmuch less the mention of it; and that it was the impudentest thing that\never was known to make such a proposal to me, when she knew that I was\nreally the mother of this girl, and that she was my own child; that it\nwas wicked enough in her, but that she must conclude I was ten times\nwickeder than herself if I could come into it; that the girl was in the\nright, and I had nothing to blame her for; but that it was owing to the\nwickedness of my life that made it necessary for me to keep her from a\ndiscovery; but that I would not murder my child, though I was otherwise\nto be ruined by it. Amy replied, somewhat rough and short, Would I not?\nbut she would, she said, if she had an opportunity; and upon these words\nit was that I bade her get out of my sight and out of my house; and it\nwent so far that Amy packed up her alls, and marched off; and was gone\nfor almost good and all. But of that in its order; I must go back to her\nrelation of the voyage which they made to Greenwich together.\nThey held on the wrangle all the way by water; the girl insisted upon\nher knowing that I was her mother, and told her all the history of my\nlife in the Pall Mall, as well after her being turned away as before,\nand of my marriage since; and which was worse, not only who my present\nhusband was, but where he had lived, viz., at Rouen in France. She knew\nnothing of Paris or of where we was going to live, namely, at Nimeguen;\nbut told her in so many words that if she could not find me here, she\nwould go to Holland after me.\nThey landed at Greenwich, and Amy carried her into the park with her,\nand they walked above two hours there in the farthest and remotest\nwalks; which Amy did because, as they talked with great heat, it was\napparent they were quarrelling, and the people took notice of it.\nThey walked till they came almost to the wilderness at the south side\nof the park; but the girl, perceiving Amy offered to go in there among\nthe woods and trees, stopped short there, and would go no further; but\nsaid she would not go in there.\nAmy smiled, and asked her what was the matter? She replied short, she\ndid not know where she was, nor where she was going to carry her, and\nshe would go no farther; and without any more ceremony, turns back, and\nwalks apace away from her. Amy owned she was surprised, and came back\ntoo, and called to her, upon which the girl stopped, and Amy coming up\nto her, asked her what she meant?\nThe girl boldly replied she did not know but she might murder her; and\nthat, in short, she would not trust herself with her, and never would\ncome into her company again alone.\nIt was very provoking, but, however, Amy kept her temper with much\ndifficulty, and bore it, knowing that much might depend upon it; so she\nmocked her foolish jealousy, and told her she need not be uneasy for\nher, she would do her no harm, and would have done her good if she would\nhave let her; but since she was of such a refractory humour, she should\nnot trouble herself, for she should never come into her company again;\nand that neither she or her brother or sister should ever hear from her\nor see her any more; and so she should have the satisfaction of being\nthe ruin of her brother and sisters as well as of herself.\nThe girl seemed a little mollified at that, and said that for herself,\nshe knew the worst of it, she could seek her fortune; but it was hard\nher brother and sister should suffer on her score; and said something\nthat was tender and well enough on that account. But Amy told her it was\nfor her to take that into consideration; for she would let her see that\nit was all her own; that she would have done them all good, but that\nhaving been used thus, she would do no more for any of them; and that\nshe should not need to be afraid to come into her company again, for she\nwould never give her occasion for it any more. This, by the way, was\nfalse in the girl too; for she did venture into Amy's company again\nafter that, once too much, as I shall relate by itself.\nThey grew cooler, however, afterwards, and Amy carried her into a house\nat Greenwich, where she was acquainted, and took an occasion to leave\nthe girl in a room awhile, to speak to the people in the house, and so\nprepare them to own her as a lodger in the house; and then going in to\nher again told her there she lodged, if she had a mind to find her out,\nor if anybody else had anything to say to her. And so Amy dismissed her,\nand got rid of her again; and finding an empty hackney-coach in the\ntown, came away by land to London, and the girl, going down to the\nwater-side, came by boat.\nThis conversation did not answer Amy's end at all, because it did not\nsecure the girl from pursuing her design of hunting me out; and though\nmy indefatigable friend the Quaker amused her three or four days, yet I\nhad such notice of it at last that I thought fit to come away from\nTunbridge upon it. And where to go I knew not; but, in short, I went to\na little village upon Epping Forest, called Woodford, and took lodgings\nin a private house, where I lived retired about six weeks, till I\nthought she might be tired of her search, and have given me over.\nHere I received an account from my trusty Quaker that the wench had\nreally been at Tunbridge, had found out my lodgings, and had told her\ntale there in a most dismal tone; that she had followed us, as she\nthought, to London; but the Quaker had answered her that she knew\nnothing of it, which was indeed true; and had admonished her to be easy,\nand not hunt after people of such fashion as we were, as if we were\nthieves; that she might be assured, that since I was not willing to see\nher, I would not be forced to it; and treating me thus would effectually\ndisoblige me. And with such discourses as these she quieted her; and she\n(the Quaker) added that she hoped I should not be troubled much more\nwith her.\nIt was in this time that Amy gave me the history of her Greenwich\nvoyage, when she spoke of drowning and killing the girl in so serious a\nmanner, and with such an apparent resolution of doing it, that, as I\nsaid, put me in a rage with her, so that I effectually turned her away\nfrom me, as I have said above, and she was gone; nor did she so much as\ntell me whither or which way she was gone. On the other hand, when I\ncame to reflect on it that now I had neither assistant or confidant to\nspeak to, or receive the least information from, my friend the Quaker\nexcepted, it made me very uneasy.\nI waited and expected and wondered from day to day, still thinking Amy\nwould one time or other think a little and come again, or at least let\nme hear of her; but for ten days together I heard nothing of her. I was\nso impatient that I got neither rest by day or sleep by night, and what\nto do I knew not. I durst not go to town to the Quaker's for fear of\nmeeting that vexatious creature, my girl, and I could get no\nintelligence where I was; so I got my spouse, upon pretence of wanting\nher company, to take the coach one day and fetch my good Quaker to me.\nWhen I had her, I durst ask her no questions, nor hardly knew which end\nof the business to begin to talk of; but of her own accord she told me\nthat the girl had been three or four times haunting her for news from\nme; and that she had been so troublesome that she had been obliged to\nshow herself a little angry with her; and at last told her plainly that\nshe need give herself no trouble in searching after me by her means, for\nshe (the Quaker) would not tell her if she knew; upon which she\nrefrained awhile. But, on the other hand, she told me it was not safe\nfor me to send my own coach for her to come in, for she had some reason\nto believe that she (my daughter) watched her door night and day; nay,\nand watched her too every time she went in and out; for she was so bent\nupon a discovery that she spared no pains, and she believed she had\ntaken a lodging very near their house for that purpose.\nI could hardly give her a hearing of all this for my eagerness to ask\nfor Amy; but I was confounded when she told me she had heard nothing of\nher. It is impossible to express the anxious thoughts that rolled about\nin my mind, and continually perplexed me about her; particularly I\nreproached myself with my rashness in turning away so faithful a\ncreature that for so many years had not only been a servant but an\nagent; and not only an agent, but a friend, and a faithful friend too.\nThen I considered too that Amy knew all the secret history of my life;\nhad been in all the intrigues of it, and been a party in both evil and\ngood; and at best there was no policy in it; that as it was very\nungenerous and unkind to run things to such an extremity with her, and\nfor an occasion, too, in which all the fault she was guilty of was owing\nto her excessive care for my safety, so it must be only her steady\nkindness to me, and an excess of generous friendship for me, that should\nkeep her from ill-using me in return for it; which ill-using me was\nenough in her power, and might be my utter undoing.\nThese thoughts perplexed me exceedingly, and what course to take I\nreally did not know. I began, indeed, to give Amy quite over, for she\nhad now been gone above a fortnight, and as she had taken away all her\nclothes, and her money too, which was not a little, and so had no\noccasion of that kind to come any more, so she had not left any word\nwhere she was gone, or to which part of the world I might send to hear\nof her.\nAnd I was troubled on another account too, viz., that my spouse and I\ntoo had resolved to do very handsomely for Amy, without considering what\nshe might have got another way at all; but we had said nothing of it to\nher, and so I thought, as she had not known what was likely to fall in\nher way, she had not the influence of that expectation to make her come\nback.\nUpon the whole, the perplexity of this girl, who hunted me as if, like a\nhound, she had had a hot scent, but was now at a fault, I say, that\nperplexity, and this other part of Amy being gone, issued in this--I\nresolved to be gone, and go over to Holland; there, I believed, I should\nbe at rest. So I took occasion one day to tell my spouse that I was\nafraid he might take it ill that I had amused him thus long, and that at\nlast I doubted I was not with child; and that since it was so, our\nthings being packed up, and all in order for going to Holland, I would\ngo away now when he pleased.\nMy spouse, who was perfectly easy whether in going or staying, left it\nall entirely to me; so I considered of it, and began to prepare again\nfor my voyage. But, alas! I was irresolute to the last degree. I was,\nfor want of Amy, destitute; I had lost my right hand; she was my\nsteward, gathered in my rents (I mean my interest money) and kept my\naccounts, and, in a word, did all my business; and without her, indeed,\nI knew not how to go away nor how to stay. But an accident thrust itself\nin here, and that even in Amy's conduct too, which frighted me away, and\nwithout her too, in the utmost horror and confusion.\nI have related how my faithful friend the Quaker was come to me, and\nwhat account she gave me of her being continually haunted by my\ndaughter; and that, as she said, she watched her very door night and\nday. The truth was, she had set a spy to watch so effectually that she\n(the Quaker) neither went in or out but she had notice of it.\nThis was too evident when, the next morning after she came to me (for I\nkept her all night), to my unspeakable surprise I saw a hackney-coach\nstop at the door where I lodged, and saw her (my daughter) in the coach\nall alone. It was a very good chance, in the middle of a bad one, that\nmy husband had taken out the coach that very morning, and was gone to\nLondon. As for me, I had neither life or soul left in me; I was so\nconfounded I knew not what to do or to say.\nMy happy visitor had more presence of mind than I, and asked me if I had\nmade no acquaintance among the neighbours. I told her, yes, there was a\nlady lodged two doors off that I was very intimate with. \"But hast thou\nno way out backward to go to her?\" says she. Now it happened there was\na back-door in the garden, by which we usually went and came to and from\nthe house, so I told her of it. \"Well, well,\" says she, \"go out and make\na visit then, and leave the rest to me.\" Away I run, told the lady (for\nI was very free there) that I was a widow to-day, my spouse being gone\nto London, so I came not to visit her, but to dwell with her that day,\nbecause also our landlady had got strangers come from London. So having\nframed this orderly lie, I pulled some work out of my pocket, and added\nI did not come to be idle.\nAs I went out one way, my friend the Quaker went the other to receive\nthis unwelcome guest. The girl made but little ceremony, but having bid\nthe coachman ring at the gate, gets down out of the coach and comes to\nthe door, a country girl going to the door (belonging to the house), for\nthe Quaker forbid any of my maids going. Madam asked for my Quaker by\nname, and the girl asked her to walk in.\nUpon this, my Quaker, seeing there was no hanging back, goes to her\nimmediately, but put all the gravity upon her countenance that she was\nmistress of, and that was not a little indeed.\nWhen she (the Quaker) came into the room (for they had showed my\ndaughter into a little parlour), she kept her grave countenance, but\nsaid not a word, nor did my daughter speak a good while; but after some\ntime my girl began and said, \"I suppose you know me, madam?\"\n\"Yes,\" says the Quaker, \"I know thee.\" And so the dialogue went on.\n_Girl._ Then you know my business too?\n_Quaker._ No, verily, I do not know any business thou canst have here\nwith me.\n_Girl._ Indeed, my business is not chiefly with you.\n_Qu._ Why, then, dost thou come after me thus far?\n_Girl._ You know whom I seek. [_And with that she cried._]\n_Qu._ But why shouldst thou follow me for her, since thou know'st that I\nassured thee more than once that I knew not where she was?\n_Girl._ But I hoped you could.\n_Qu._ Then thou must hope that I did not speak the truth, which would be\nvery wicked.\n_Girl._ I doubt not but she is in this house.\n_Qu._ If those be thy thoughts, thou may'st inquire in the house; so\nthou hast no more business with me. Farewell! [_Offers to go._]\n_Girl._ I would not be uncivil; I beg you to let me see her.\n_Qu._ I am here to visit some of my friends, and I think thou art not\nvery civil in following me hither.\n_Girl._ I came in hopes of a discovery in my great affair which you know\nof.\n_Qu._ Thou cam'st wildly, indeed; I counsel thee to go back again, and\nbe easy; I shall keep my word with thee, that I would not meddle in it,\nor give thee any account, if I knew it, unless I had her orders.\n[Illustration: ROXANA'S DAUGHTER AND THE QUAKER\n_Here the girl importuned her again with the utmost earnestness, and\ncried bitterly_]\n_Girl._ If you knew my distress you could not be so cruel.\n_Qu._ Thou hast told me all thy story, and I think it might be more\ncruelty to tell thee than not to tell thee; for I understand she is\nresolved not to see thee, and declares she is not thy mother. Will'st\nthou be owned where thou hast no relation?\n_Girl._ Oh, if I could but speak to her, I would prove my relation to\nher so that she could not deny it any longer.\n_Qu._ Well, but thou canst not come to speak with her, it seems.\n_Girl._ I hope you will tell me if she is here. I had a good account\nthat you were come out to see her, and that she sent for you.\n_Qu._ I much wonder how thou couldst have such an account. If I had come\nout to see her, thou hast happened to miss the house, for I assure thee\nshe is not to be found in this house.\nHere the girl importuned her again with the utmost earnestness, and\ncried bitterly, insomuch that my poor Quaker was softened with it, and\nbegan to persuade me to consider of it, and, if it might consist with my\naffairs, to see her, and hear what she had to say; but this was\nafterwards. I return to the discourse.\nThe Quaker was perplexed with her a long time; she talked of sending\nback the coach, and lying in the town all night. This, my friend knew,\nwould be very uneasy to me, but she durst not speak a word against it;\nbut on a sudden thought, she offered a bold stroke, which, though\ndangerous if it had happened wrong, had its desired effect.\nShe told her that, as for dismissing her coach, that was as she pleased,\nshe believed she would not easily get a lodging in the town; but that as\nshe was in a strange place, she would so much befriend her, that she\nwould speak to the people of the house, that if they had room, she might\nhave a lodging there for one night, rather than be forced back to London\nbefore she was free to go.\nThis was a cunning, though a dangerous step, and it succeeded\naccordingly, for it amused the creature entirely, and she presently\nconcluded that really I could not be there then, otherwise she would\nnever have asked her to lie in the house; so she grew cold again\npresently as to her lodging there, and said, No, since it was so, she\nwould go back that afternoon, but she would come again in two or three\ndays, and search that and all the towns round in an effectual manner, if\nshe stayed a week or two to do it; for, in short, if I was in England or\nHolland she would find me.\n\"In truth,\" says the Quaker, \"thou wilt make me very hurtful to thee,\nthen.\" \"Why so?\" says she, \"Because wherever I go, thou wilt put thyself\nto great expense, and the country to a great deal of unnecessary\ntrouble.\" \"Not unnecessary,\" says she. \"Yes, truly,\" says the Quaker;\n\"it must be unnecessary, because it will be to no purpose. I think I\nmust abide in my own house to save thee that charge and trouble.\"\nShe said little to that, except that, she said, she would give her as\nlittle trouble as possible; but she was afraid she should sometimes be\nuneasy to her, which she hoped she would excuse. My Quaker told her she\nwould much rather excuse her if she would forbear; for that if she would\nbelieve her, she would assure her she should never get any intelligence\nof me by her.\nThat set her into tears again; but after a while, recovering herself,\nshe told her perhaps she might be mistaken; and she (the Quaker) should\nwatch herself very narrowly, or she might one time or other get some\nintelligence from her, whether she would or no; and she was satisfied\nshe had gained some of her by this journey, for that if I was not in the\nhouse, I was not far off; and if I did not remove very quickly, she\nwould find me out. \"Very well,\" says my Quaker; \"then if the lady is not\nwilling to see thee, thou givest me notice to tell her, that she may get\nout of thy way.\"\nShe flew out in a rage at that, and told my friend that if she did, a\ncurse would follow her, and her children after her, and denounced such\nhorrid things upon her as frighted the poor tender-hearted Quaker\nstrangely, and put her more out of temper than ever I saw her before; so\nthat she resolved to go home the next morning, and I, that was ten times\nmore uneasy than she, resolved to follow her, and go to London too;\nwhich, however, upon second thoughts, I did not, but took effectual\nmeasures not to be seen or owned if she came any more; but I heard no\nmore of her for some time.\nI stayed there about a fortnight, and in all that time I heard no more\nof her, or of my Quaker about her; but after about two days more, I had\na letter from my Quaker, intimating that she had something of moment to\nsay, that she could not communicate by letter, but wished I would give\nmyself the trouble to come up, directing me to come with the coach into\nGoodman's Fields, and then walk to her back-door on foot, which being\nleft open on purpose, the watchful lady, if she had any spies, could not\nwell see me.\nMy thoughts had for so long time been kept, as it were, waking, that\nalmost everything gave me the alarm, and this especially, so that I was\nvery uneasy; but I could not bring matters to bear to make my coming to\nLondon so clear to my husband as I would have done; for he liked the\nplace, and had a mind, he said, to stay a little longer, if it was not\nagainst my inclination; so I wrote my friend the Quaker word that I\ncould not come to town yet; and that, besides, I could not think of\nbeing there under spies, and afraid to look out of doors; and so, in\nshort, I put off going for near a fortnight more.\nAt the end of that time she wrote again, in which she told me that she\nhad not lately seen the impertinent visitor which had been so\ntroublesome; but that she had seen my trusty agent Amy, who told her\nshe had cried for six weeks without intermission; that Amy had given her\nan account how troublesome the creature had been, and to what straits\nand perplexities I was driven by her hunting after and following me from\nplace to place; upon which Amy had said, that, notwithstanding I was\nangry with her, and had used her so hardly for saying something about\nher of the same kind, yet there was an absolute necessity of securing\nher, and removing her out of the way; and that, in short, without asking\nmy leave, or anybody's leave, she should take care she should trouble\nher mistress (meaning me) no more; and that after Amy had said so, she\nhad indeed never heard any more of the girl; so that she supposed Amy\nhad managed it so well as to put an end to it.\nThe innocent, well-meaning creature, my Quaker, who was all kindness and\ngoodness in herself, and particularly to me, saw nothing in this; but\nshe thought Amy had found some way to persuade her to be quiet and easy,\nand to give over teasing and following me, and rejoiced in it for my\nsake; as she thought nothing of any evil herself, so she suspected none\nin anybody else, and was exceeding glad of having such good news to\nwrite to me; but my thoughts of it run otherwise.\nI was struck, as with a blast from heaven, at the reading her letter; I\nfell into a fit of trembling from head to foot, and I ran raving about\nthe room like a mad woman. I had nobody to speak a word to, to give\nvent to my passion; nor did I speak a word for a good while, till after\nit had almost overcome me. I threw myself on the bed, and cried out,\n\"Lord, be merciful to me, she has murdered my child!\" and with that a\nflood of tears burst out, and I cried vehemently for above an hour.\nMy husband was very happily gone out a-hunting, so that I had the\nopportunity of being alone, and to give my passions some vent, by which\nI a little recovered myself. But after my crying was over, then I fell\nin a new rage at Amy; I called her a thousand devils and monsters and\nhard-hearted tigers; I reproached her with her knowing that I abhorred\nit, and had let her know it sufficiently, in that I had, at it were,\nkicked her out of doors, after so many years' friendship and service,\nonly for naming it to me.\nWell, after some time, my spouse came in from his sport, and I put on\nthe best looks I could to deceive him; but he did not take so little\nnotice of me as not to see I had been crying, and that something\ntroubled me, and he pressed me to tell him. I seemed to bring it out\nwith reluctance, but told him my backwardness was more because I was\nashamed that such a trifle should have any effect upon me, than for any\nweight that was in it; so I told him I had been vexing myself about my\nwoman Amy's not coming again; that she might have known me better than\nnot to believe I should have been friends with her again, and the like;\nand that, in short, I had lost the best servant by my rashness that ever\nwoman had.\n\"Well, well,\" says he, \"if that be all your grief, I hope you will soon\nshake it off; I'll warrant you in a little while we shall hear of Mrs.\nAmy again.\" And so it went off for that time. But it did not go off with\nme; for I was uneasy and terrified to the last degree, and wanted to get\nsome farther account of the thing. So I went away to my sure and certain\ncomforter, the Quaker, and there I had the whole story of it; and the\ngood innocent Quaker gave me joy of my being rid of such an unsufferable\ntormentor.\n\"Rid of her! Ay,\" says I, \"if I was rid of her fairly and honourably;\nbut I don't know what Amy may have done. Sure, she ha'n't made her\naway?\" \"Oh fie!\" says my Quaker; \"how canst thou entertain such a\nnotion! No, no. Made her away? Amy didn't talk like that; I dare say\nthou may'st be easy in that; Amy has nothing of that in her head, I dare\nsay,\" says she; and so threw it, as it were, out of my thoughts.\nBut it would not do; it run in my head continually; night and day I\ncould think of nothing else; and it fixed such a horror of the fact upon\nmy spirits, and such a detestation of Amy, who I looked upon as the\nmurderer, that, as for her, I believe if I could have seen her I should\ncertainly have sent her to Newgate, or to a worse place, upon\nsuspicion; indeed, I think I could have killed her with my own hands.\nAs for the poor girl herself, she was ever before my eyes; I saw her by\nnight and by day; she haunted my imagination, if she did not haunt the\nhouse; my fancy showed me her in a hundred shapes and postures; sleeping\nor waking, she was with me. Sometimes I thought I saw her with her\nthroat cut; sometimes with her head cut, and her brains knocked out;\nother times hanged up upon a beam; another time drowned in the great\npond at Camberwell. And all these appearances were terrifying to the\nlast degree; and that which was still worse, I could really hear nothing\nof her; I sent to the captain's wife in Redriff, and she answered me,\nshe was gone to her relations in Spitalfields. I sent thither, and they\nsaid she was there about three weeks ago, but that she went out in a\ncoach with the gentlewoman that used to be so kind to her, but whither\nshe was gone they knew not, for she had not been there since. I sent\nback the messenger for a description of the woman she went out with; and\nthey described her so perfectly, that I knew it to be Amy, and none but\nAmy.\nI sent word again that Mrs. Amy, who she went out with, left her in two\nor three hours, and that they should search for her, for I had a reason\nto fear she was murdered. This frighted them all intolerably. They\nbelieved Amy had carried her to pay her a sum of money, and that\nsomebody had watched her after her having received it, and had robbed\nand murdered her.\nI believed nothing of that part; but I believed, as it was, that\nwhatever was done, Amy had done it; and that, in short, Amy had made her\naway; and I believed it the more, because Amy came no more near me, but\nconfirmed her guilt by her absence.\nUpon the whole, I mourned thus for her for above a month; but finding\nAmy still come not near me, and that I must put my affairs in a posture\nthat I might go to Holland, I opened all my affairs to my dear trusty\nfriend the Quaker, and placed her, in matters of trust, in the room of\nAmy; and with a heavy, bleeding heart for my poor girl, I embarked with\nmy spouse, and all our equipage and goods, on board another Holland's\ntrader, not a packet-boat, and went over to Holland, where I arrived, as\nI have said.\nI must put in a caution, however, here, that you must not understand me\nas if I let my friend the Quaker into any part of the secret history of\nmy former life; nor did I commit the grand reserved article of all to\nher, viz., that I was really the girl's mother, and the Lady Roxana;\nthere was no need of that part being exposed; and it was always a maxim\nwith me, that secrets should never be opened without evident utility. It\ncould be of no manner of use to me or her to communicate that part to\nher; besides, she was too honest herself to make it safe to me; for\nthough she loved me very sincerely, and it was plain by many\ncircumstances that she did so, yet she would not lie for me upon\noccasion, as Amy would, and therefore it was not advisable on any terms\nto communicate that part; for if the girl, or any one else, should have\ncome to her afterwards, and put it home to her, whether she knew that I\nwas the girl's mother or not, or was the same as the Lady Roxana or not,\nshe either would not have denied it, or would have done it with so ill a\ngrace, such blushing, such hesitations and falterings in her answers, as\nwould have put the matter out of doubt, and betrayed herself and the\nsecret too.\nFor this reason, I say, I did not discover anything of that kind to her;\nbut I placed her, as I have said, in Amy's stead in the other affairs of\nreceiving money, interests, rents, and the like, and she was as faithful\nas Amy could be, and as diligent.\nBut there fell out a great difficulty here, which I knew not how to get\nover; and this was how to convey the usual supply of provision and money\nto the uncle and the other sister, who depended, especially the sister,\nupon the said supply for her support; and indeed, though Amy had said\nrashly that she would not take any more notice of the sister, and would\nleave her to perish, as above, yet it was neither in my nature, or Amy's\neither, much less was it in my design; and therefore I resolved to leave\nthe management of what I had reserved for that work with my faithful\nQuaker, but how to direct her to manage them was the great difficulty.\nAmy had told them in so many words that she was not their mother, but\nthat she was the maid Amy, that carried them to their aunt's; that she\nand their mother went over to the East Indies to seek their fortune, and\nthat there good things had befallen them, and that their mother was very\nrich and happy; that she (Amy) had married in the Indies, but being now\na widow, and resolving to come over to England, their mother had obliged\nher to inquire them out, and do for them as she had done; and that now\nshe was resolved to go back to the Indies again; but that she had orders\nfrom their mother to do very handsomely by them; and, in a word, told\nthem she had \u00a32000 apiece for them, upon condition that they proved\nsober, and married suitably to themselves, and did not throw themselves\naway upon scoundrels.\nThe good family in whose care they had been, I had resolved to take more\nthan ordinary notice of; and Amy, by my order, had acquainted them with\nit, and obliged my daughters to promise to submit to their government,\nas formerly, and to be ruled by the honest man as by a father and\ncounsellor; and engaged him to treat them as his children. And to oblige\nhim effectually to take care of them, and to make his old age\ncomfortable both to him and his wife, who had been so good to the\norphans, I had ordered her to settle the other \u00a32000, that is to say,\nthe interest of it, which was \u00a3120 a year, upon them, to be theirs for\nboth their lives, but to come to my two daughters after them. This was\nso just, and was so prudently managed by Amy, that nothing she ever did\nfor me pleased me better. And in this posture, leaving my two daughters\nwith their ancient friend, and so coming away to me (as they thought to\nthe East Indies), she had prepared everything in order to her going over\nwith me to Holland; and in this posture that matter stood when that\nunhappy girl, who I have said so much of, broke in upon all our\nmeasures, as you have heard, and, by an obstinacy never to be conquered\nor pacified, either with threats or persuasions, pursued her search\nafter me (her mother) as I have said, till she brought me even to the\nbrink of destruction; and would, in all probability, have traced me out\nat last, if Amy had not, by the violence of her passion, and by a way\nwhich I had no knowledge of, and indeed abhorred, put a stop to her, of\nwhich I cannot enter into the particulars here.\nHowever, notwithstanding this, I could not think of going away and\nleaving this work so unfinished as Amy had threatened to do, and for the\nfolly of one child to leave the other to starve, or to stop my\ndetermined bounty to the good family I have mentioned. So, in a word, I\ncommitted the finishing it all to my faithful friend the Quaker, to whom\nI communicated as much of the whole story as was needful to empower her\nto perform what Amy had promised, and to make her talk so much to the\npurpose, as one employed more remotely than Amy had been, needed to be.\nTo this purpose she had, first of all, a full possession of the money;\nand went first to the honest man and his wife, and settled all the\nmatter with them; when she talked of Mrs. Amy, she talked of her as one\nthat had been empowered by the mother of the girls in the Indies, but\nwas obliged to go back to the Indies, and had settled all sooner if she\nhad not been hindered by the obstinate humour of the other daughter;\nthat she had left instructions with her for the rest; but that the other\nhad affronted her so much that she was gone away without doing anything\nfor her; and that now, if anything was done, it must be by fresh orders\nfrom the East Indies.\nI need not say how punctually my new agent acted; but, which was more,\nshe brought the old man and his wife, and my other daughter, several\ntimes to her house, by which I had an opportunity, being there only as a\nlodger, and a stranger, to see my other girl, which I had never done\nbefore, since she was a little child.\nThe day I contrived to see them I was dressed up in a Quaker's habit,\nand looked so like a Quaker, that it was impossible for them, who had\nnever seen me before, to suppose I had ever been anything else; also my\nway of talking was suitable enough to it, for I had learned that long\nbefore.\nI have not time here to take notice what a surprise it was to me to see\nmy child; how it worked upon my affections; with what infinite struggle\nI mastered a strong inclination that I had to discover myself to her;\nhow the girl was the very counterpart of myself, only much handsomer;\nand how sweetly and modestly she behaved; how, on that occasion, I\nresolved to do more for her than I had appointed by Amy, and the like.\nIt is enough to mention here, that as the settling this affair made way\nfor my going on board, notwithstanding the absence of my old agent Amy,\nso, however, I left some hints for Amy too, for I did not yet despair of\nmy hearing from her; and that if my good Quaker should ever see her\nagain, she should let her see them; wherein, particularly, ordering her\nto leave the affair of Spitalfields just as I had done, in the hands of\nmy friend, she should come away to me; upon this condition,\nnevertheless, that she gave full satisfaction to my friend the Quaker\nthat she had not murdered my child; for if she had, I told her I would\nnever see her face more. However, notwithstanding this, she came over\nafterwards, without giving my friend any of that satisfaction, or any\naccount that she intended to come over.\nI can say no more now, but that, as above, being arrived in Holland,\nwith my spouse and his son, formerly mentioned, I appeared there with\nall the splendour and equipage suitable to our new prospect, as I have\nalready observed.\nHere, after some few years of flourishing and outwardly happy\ncircumstances, I fell into a dreadful course of calamities, and Amy\nalso; the very reverse of our former good days. The blast of Heaven\nseemed to follow the injury done the poor girl by us both, and I was\nbrought so low again, that my repentance seemed to be only the\nconsequence of my misery, as my misery was of my crime.\nCONTINUATION\n(_From the 1745 Edition_)\nIn resolving to go to Holland with my husband, and take possession of\nthe title of countess as soon as possible, I had a view of deceiving my\ndaughter, were she yet alive, and seeking me out; for it seldom happens\nthat a nobleman, or his lady, are called by their surnames, and as she\nwas a stranger to our noble title, might have inquired at our next door\nneighbours for Mr. ----, the Dutch merchant, and not have been one jot\nthe wiser for her inquiry. So one evening, soon after this resolution,\nas I and my husband were sitting together when supper was over, and\ntalking of several various scenes in life, I told him that, as there was\nno likelihood of my being with child, as I had some reason to suspect I\nwas some time before, I was ready to go with him to any part of the\nworld, whenever he pleased. I said, that great part of my things were\npacked up, and what was not would not be long about, and that I had\nlittle occasion to buy any more clothes, linen, or jewels, whilst I was\nin England, having a large quantity of the richest and best of\neverything by me already. On saying these words, he took me in his\narms, and told me that he looked on what I had now spoken with so great\nan emphasis, to be my settled resolution, and the fault should not lie\non his side if it miscarried being put in practice.\nThe next morning he went out to see some merchants, who had received\nadvice of the arrival of some shipping which had been in great danger at\nsea, and whose insurance had run very high; and it was this interval\nthat gave me an opportunity of my coming to a final resolution. I now\ntold the Quaker, as she was sitting at work in her parlour, that we\nshould very speedily leave her, and although she daily expected it, yet\nshe was really sorry to hear that we had come to a full determination;\nshe said abundance of fine things to me on the happiness of the life I\ndid then, and was going to live; believing, I suppose, that a countess\ncould not have a foul conscience; but at that very instant, I would\nhave, had it been in my power, resigned husband, estate, title, and all\nthe blessings she fancied I had in the world, only for her real virtue,\nand the sweet peace of mind, joined to a loving company of children,\nwhich she really possessed.\nWhen my husband returned, he asked me at dinner if I persevered in my\nresolution of leaving England; to which I answered in the affirmative.\n\"Well,\" says he, \"as all my affairs will not take up a week's time to\nsettle, I will be ready to go from London with you in ten days' time.\"\nWe fixed upon no particular place or abode, but in general concluded to\ngo to Dover, cross the Channel to Calais, and proceed from thence by\neasy journeys to Paris, where after staying about a week, we intended to\ngo through part of France, the Austrian Netherlands, and so on to\nAmsterdam, Rotterdam, or the Hague, as we were to settle before we went\nfrom Paris. As my husband did not care to venture all our fortune in one\nbottom, so our goods, money, and plate were consigned to several\nmerchants, who had been his intimates many years, and he took notes of a\nprodigious value in his pocket, besides what he gave me to take care of\nduring our journey. The last thing to be considered was, how we should\ngo ourselves, and what equipage we should take with us; my thoughts were\nwholly taken up about it some time; I knew I was going to be a countess,\nand did not care to appear anything mean before I came to that honour;\nbut, on the other hand, if I left London in any public way, I might\npossibly hear of inquiries after me in the road, that I had been\nacquainted with before. At last I said we would discharge all our\nservants, except two footmen, who should travel with us to Dover, and\none maid to wait on me, that had lived with me only since the retreat of\nAmy, and she was to go through, if she was willing; and as to the\ncarriage of us, a coach should be hired for my husband, myself, and\nmaid, and two horses were to be hired for the footmen, who were to\nreturn with them to London.\nWhen the Quaker had heard when and how we intended to go, she begged, as\nthere would be a spare seat in the coach, to accompany us as far as\nDover, which we both readily consented to; no woman could be a better\ncompanion, neither was there any acquaintance that we loved better, or\ncould show more respect to us.\nThe morning before we set out, my husband sent for a master coachman to\nknow the price of a handsome coach, with six able horses, to go to\nDover. He inquired how many days we intended to be on the journey? My\nhusband said he would go but very easy, and chose to be three days on\nthe road; that they should stay there two days, and be three more\nreturning to London, with a gentlewoman (meaning the Quaker) in it. The\ncoachman said it would be an eight days' journey, and he would have ten\nguineas for it. My husband consented to pay him his demand, and he\nreceived orders to be ready at the door by seven of the clock the next\nmorning: I was quite prepared to go, having no person to take leave of\nbut the Quaker, and she had desired to see us take the packet-boat at\nDover, before we parted with her; and the last night of my stay in\nLondon was spent very agreeably with the Quaker and her family. My\nhusband, who stayed out later than usual, in taking his farewell of\nseveral merchants of his acquaintance, came home about eleven o'clock,\nand drank a glass or two of wine with us before we went to bed.\nThe next morning, the whole family got up about five o'clock, and I,\nwith my husband's consent, made each of the Quaker's daughters a present\nof a diamond ring, valued at \u00a320, and a guinea apiece to all the\nservants, without exception. We all breakfasted together, and at the\nhour appointed, the coach and attendants came to the door; this drew\nseveral people about it, who were all very inquisitive to know who was\ngoing into the country, and what is never forgot on such occasions, all\nthe beggars in the neighbourhood were prepared to give us their\nbenedictions in hopes of an alms. When the coachmen had packed up what\nboxes were designed for our use, we, namely, my husband, the Quaker,\nmyself, and the waiting-maid, all got into the coach, the footmen were\nmounted on horses behind, and in this manner the coach, after I had\ngiven a guinea to one of the Quaker's daughters equally to divide among\nthe beggars at the door, drove away from the house, and I took leave of\nmy lodging in the Minories, as well as of London.\nAt St. George's Church, Southwark, we were met by three gentlemen on\nhorseback, who were merchants of my husband's acquaintance, and had come\nout on purpose, to go half a day's journey with us; and as they kept\ntalking to us at the coach side, we went a good pace, and were very\nmerry together; we stopped at the best house of entertainment on\nShooter's Hill.\nHere we stopped for about an hour, and drank some wine, and my husband,\nwhose chief study was how to please and divert me, caused me to alight\nout of the coach; which the gentlemen who accompanied us observing,\nalighted also. The waiter showed us upstairs into a large room, whose\nwindow opened to our view a fine prospect of the river Thames, which\nhere, they say, forms one of the most beautiful meanders. It was within\nan hour of high water, and such a number of ships coming in under sail\nquite astonished as well as delighted me, insomuch that I could not help\nbreaking out into such-like expressions, \"My dear, what a fine sight\nthis is; I never saw the like before! Pray will they get to London this\ntide?\" At which the good-natured gentleman smiled, and said, \"Yes, my\ndear; why, there is London, and as the wind is quite fair for them, some\nof them will come to an anchor in about half-an-hour, and all within an\nhour.\"\nI was so taken up with looking down the river that, till my husband\nspoke, I had not once looked up the river; but when I did, and saw\nLondon, the Monument, the cathedral church of St. Paul, and the steeples\nbelonging to the several parish churches, I was transported into an\necstasy, and could not refrain from saying, \"Sure that cannot be the\nplace we are now just come from, it must be further off, for that looks\nto be scarce three miles off, and we have been three hours, by my watch,\ncoming from our lodgings in the Minories! No, no, it is not London, it\nis some other place!\"\nUpon which one of the gentlemen present offered to convince me that the\nplace I saw was London if I would go up to the top of the house, and\nview it from the turret. I accepted the offer, and I, my husband, and\nthe three gentlemen were conducted by the master of the house upstairs\ninto the turret. If I was delighted before with my prospect, I was now\nravished, for I was elevated above the room I was in before upwards of\nthirty feet. I seemed a little dizzy, for the turret being a lantern,\nand giving light all ways, for some time I thought myself suspended in\nthe air; but sitting down, and having eat a mouthful of biscuit and\ndrank a glass of sack, I soon recovered, and then the gentleman who had\nundertaken to convince me that the place I was shown was really London,\nthus began, after having drawn aside one of the windows.\n\"You see, my lady,\" says the gentleman, \"the greatest, the finest, the\nrichest, and the most populous city in the world, at least in Europe, as\nI can assure your ladyship, upon my own knowledge, it deserves the\ncharacter I have given it.\" \"But this, sir, will never convince me that\nthe place you now show me is London, though I have before heard that\nLondon deserves the character you have with so much cordiality bestowed\nupon it. And this I can testify, that London, in every particular you\nhave mentioned, greatly surpasses Paris, which is allowed by all\nhistorians and travellers to be the second city in Europe.\"\nHere the gentleman, pulling out his pocket-glass, desired me to look\nthrough it, which I did; and then he directed me to look full at St.\nPaul's, and to make that the centre of my future observation, and\nthereupon he promised me conviction.\nWhilst I took my observation, I sat in a high chair, made for that\npurpose, with a convenience before you to hold the glass. I soon found\nthe cathedral, and then I could not help saying I have been several\ntimes up to the stone gallery, but not quite so often up to the iron\ngallery. Then I brought my eye to the Monument, and was obliged to\nconfess I knew it to be such. The gentleman then moved the glass and\ndesired me to look, which doing, I said, \"I think I see Whitehall and\nSt. James's Park, and I see also two great buildings like barns, but I\ndo not know what they are.\" \"Oh,\" says the gentleman, \"they are the\nParliament House and Westminster Abbey.\" \"They may be so,\" said I; and\ncontinuing looking, I perceived the very house at Kensington which I had\nlived in some time; but of that I took no notice, yet I found my colour\ncome, to think what a life of gaiety and wickedness I had lived. The\ngentleman, perceiving my disorder, said, \"I am afraid I have tired your\nladyship; I will make but one remove, more easterly, and then I believe\nyou will allow the place we see to be London.\"\nHe might have saved himself the trouble, for I was thoroughly convinced\nof my error; but to give myself time to recover, and to hide my\nconfusion, I seemed not yet to be quite convinced. I looked, and the\nfirst object that presented itself was Aldgate Church, which, though I\nconfess to my shame, I seldom saw the inside of it, yet I was well\nacquainted with the outside, for many times my friend the Quaker and I\nhad passed and repassed by it when we used to go in the coach to take an\nairing. I saw the church, or the steeple of the church, so plain, and\nknew it so well, that I could not help saying, with some earnestness,\n\"My dear, I see our church; the church, I mean, belonging to our\nneighbourhood; I am sure it is Aldgate Church.\" Then I saw the Tower,\nand all the shipping; and, taking my eye from the glass, I thanked the\ngentleman for the trouble I had given him, and said to him that I was\nfully convinced that the place I saw was London, and that it was the\nvery place we came from that morning.\nWhen we came to Sittingbourne, our servant soon brought us word that\nalthough we were at the best inn in the town, yet there was nothing in\nthe larder fit for our dinner. The landlord came in after him and began\nto make excuses for his empty cupboard. He told us, withal, that if we\nwould please to stay, he would kill a calf, a sheep, a hog, or anything\nwe had a fancy to. We ordered him to kill a pig and some pigeons, which,\nwith a dish of fish, a cherry pie, and some pastry, made up a tolerable\ndinner. We made up two pounds ten shillings, for we caused the landlord,\nhis wife, and two daughters, to dine with us, and help us off with our\nwine. Our landlady and her two daughters, with a glass or two given to\nthe cook, managed two bottles of white wine. This operated so strong\nupon one of the young wenches that, my spouse being gone out into the\nyard, her tongue began to run; and, looking at me, she says to her\nmother, \"La! mother, how much like the lady her ladyship is\" (speaking\nof me), \"the young woman who lodged here the other night, and stayed\nhere part of the next day, and then set forward for Canterbury,\ndescribed. The lady is the same person, I'm sure.\"\nThis greatly alarmed me, and made me very uneasy, for I concluded this\nyoung woman could be no other than my daughter, who was resolved to find\nme out, whether I would or no. I desired the girl to describe the young\nwoman she mentioned, which she did, and I was convinced it was my own\ndaughter. I asked in what manner she travelled, and whether she had any\ncompany. I was answered that she was on foot, and that she had no\ncompany; but that she always travelled from place to place in company;\nthat her method was, when she came into any town, to go to the best inns\nand inquire for the lady she sought; and then, when she had satisfied\nherself that the lady, whom she called her mother, was not to be found\nin that town or neighbourhood, she then begged the favour of the\nlandlady of the inn where she was, to put her into such a company that\nshe knew that she might go safe to the next town; that this was the\nmanner of her proceeding at her house, and she believed she had\npractised it ever since she set out from London; and she hoped to meet\nwith her mother, as she called her, upon the road.\nI asked my landlady whether she described our coach and equipage, but\nshe said the young woman did not inquire concerning equipage, but only\ndescribed a lady \"so like your ladyship, that I have often, since I saw\nyour ladyship, took you to be the very person she was looking for.\"\nAmidst the distractions of my mind, this afforded me some comfort, that\nmy daughter was not in the least acquainted with the manner in which we\ntravelled. My husband and the landlord returned, and that put an end to\nthe discourse.\nI left this town with a heavy heart, feeling my daughter would\ninfallibly find me out at Canterbury; but, as good luck would have it,\nshe had left that city before we came thither, some time. I was very\nshort in one thing, that I had not asked my landlady at Sittingbourne\nhow long it was since my daughter was there. But when I came to\nCanterbury I was a very anxious and indefatigable in inquiring after my\ndaughter, and I found that she had been at the inn where we then were,\nand had inquired for me, as I found by the description the people gave\nof myself.\nHere I learnt my daughter had left Canterbury a week. This pleased me;\nand I was determined to stay in Canterbury one day, to view the\ncathedral, and see the antiquities of this metropolis.\nAs we had sixteen miles to our journey's end that night, for it was near\nfour o'clock before we got into our coach again, the coachman drove with\ngreat speed, and at dusk in the evening we entered the west gate of the\ncity, and put up at an inn in High Street (near St. Mary Bredman's\nchurch), which generally was filled with the best of company. The\nanxiety of my mind, on finding myself pursued by this girl, and the\nfatigue of my journey, had made me much out of order, my head ached, and\nI had no stomach.\nThis made my husband (but he knew not the real occasion of my illness)\nand the Quaker very uneasy, and they did all in their power to persuade\nme to eat anything I could fancy.\nAt length the landlady of the inn, who perceived I was more disturbed in\nmy mind than sick, advised me to eat one poached egg, drink a glass of\nsack, eat a toast, and go to bed, and she warranted, she said, I should\nbe well by the morning. This was immediately done; and I must\nacknowledge, that the sack and toast cheered me wonderfully, and I began\nto take heart again; and my husband would have the coachman in after\nsupper, on purpose to divert me and the honest Quaker, who, poor\ncreature, seemed much more concerned at my misfortune than I was myself.\nI went soon to bed, but for fear I should be worse in the night, two\nmaids of the inn were ordered to sit up in an adjoining chamber; the\nQuaker and my waiting-maid lay in a bed in the same room, and my\nhusband by himself in another apartment.\nWhile my maid was gone down on some necessary business, and likewise to\nget me some burnt wine, which I was to drink going to bed, or rather\nwhen I was just got into bed, the Quaker and I had the following\ndialogue:\n_Quaker._ The news thou heardest at Sittingbourne has disordered thee. I\nam glad the young woman has been out of this place a week; she went\nindeed for Dover; and when she comes there and canst not find thee, she\nmay go to Deal, and so miss of thee.\n_Roxana._ What I most depend upon is, that as we do not travel by any\nparticular name, but the general one of the baronet and his lady, and\nthe girl hath no notion what sort of equipage we travelled with, it was\nnot easy to make a discovery of me, unless she accidentally, in her\ntravels, light upon you (meaning the Quaker), or upon me; either of\nwhich must unavoidably blow the secret I had so long laboured to\nconceal.\n_Quaker._ As thou intendest to stay here to-morrow, to see the things\nwhich thou callest antiquities, and which are more properly named the\nrelics of the Whore of Babylon; suppose thou wert to send Thomas, who at\nthy command followeth after us, to the place called Dover, to inquire\nwhether such a young woman has been inquiring for thee. He may go out\nbetimes in the morning, and may return by night, for it is but twelve\nor fourteen miles at farthest thither.\n_Roxana._ I like thy scheme very well; and I beg the favour of you in\nthe morning, as soon as you are up, to send Tom to Dover, with such\ninstructions as you shall think proper.\nAfter a good night's repose I was well recovered, to the great\nsatisfaction of all that were with me.\nThe good-natured Quaker, always studious to serve and oblige me, got up\nabout five o'clock in the morning, and going down into the inn-yard, met\nwith Tom, gave him his instructions, and he set out for Dover before six\no'clock.\nAs we were at the best inn in the city, so we could readily have\nwhatever we pleased, and whatever the season afforded; but my husband,\nthe most indulgent man that ever breathed, having observed how heartily\nI ate my dinner at Rochester two days before, ordered the very same bill\nof fare, and of which I made a heartier meal than I did before. We were\nvery merry, and after we had dined, we went to see the town-house, but\nas it was near five o'clock I left the Quaker behind me, to receive what\nintelligence she could get concerning my daughter, from the footman, who\nwas expected to return from Dover at six.\nWe came to the inn just as it was dark, and then excusing myself to my\nhusband, I immediately ran up into my chamber, where I had appointed the\nQuaker to be against my return. I ran to her with eagerness, and\ninquired what news from Dover, by Tom, the footman.\nShe said, Tom had been returned two hours; that he got to Dover that\nmorning between seven and eight, and found, at the inn he put up at,\nthere had been an inquisitive young woman to find out a gentleman that\nwas a Dutch merchant, and a lady who was her mother; that the young\nwoman perfectly well described his lady; that he found that she had\nvisited every public inn in the town; that she said she would go to\nDeal, and that if she did not find the lady, her mother, there, she\nwould go by the first ship to the Hague, and go from thence, to\nAmsterdam and Rotterdam, searching all the towns through which she\npassed in the United Provinces.\nThis account pleased me very well, especially when I understood that she\nhad been gone from Dover five days. The Quaker comforted me, and said it\nwas lucky this busy creature had passed the road before us, otherwise\nshe might easily have found means to have overtaken us, for, as she\nobserved, the wench had such an artful way of telling her story, that\nshe moved everybody to compassion; and she did not doubt but that if we\nhad been before, as we were behind, she would have got those who would\nhave assisted her with a coach, &c., to have pursued us, and they might\nhave come up with us.\nI was of the honest Quaker's sentiments. I grew pretty easy, called Tom,\nand gave him half a guinea for his diligence; then I and the Quaker went\ninto the parlour to my husband, and soon after supper came in, and I\nate moderately, and we spent the remainder of the evening, for the clock\nhad then tolled nine, very cheerfully; for my Quaker was so rejoiced at\nmy good fortune, as she called it, that she was very alert, and\nexceeding good company; and her wit, and she had no small share of it, I\nthought was better played off than ever I had heard it before.\nMy husband asked me how I should choose to go on board; I desired him to\nsettle it as he pleased, telling him it was a matter of very great\nindifference to me, as he was to go with me. \"That may be true, my\ndear,\" says he, \"but I ask you for a reason or two, which I will lay\nbefore you, viz., if we hire a vessel for ourselves, we may set sail\nwhen we please, have the liberty of every part of the ship to ourselves,\nand land at what port, either in Holland or France, we might make choice\nof. Besides,\" added he, \"another reason I mention it to you is, that I\nknow you do not love much company, which, in going into the packet-boat,\nit is almost impossible to avoid.\" \"I own, my dear,\" said I, \"your\nreasons are very good; I have but one thing to say against them, which\nis, that the packet-boat, by its frequent voyages, must of course be\nfurnished with experienced seamen, who know the seas too well even to\nrun any hazard.\" (At this juncture the terrible voyage I and Amy made\nfrom France to Harwich came so strong in my mind, that I trembled so as\nto be taken notice of by my husband.) \"Besides,\" added I, \"the landlord\nmay send the master of one of them to you, and I think it may be best to\nhire the state cabin, as they call it, to ourselves, by which method we\nshall avoid company, without we have an inclination to associate\nourselves with such passengers we may happen to like; and the expense\nwill be much cheaper than hiring a vessel to go the voyage with us\nalone, and every whit as safe.\"\nThe Quaker, who had seriously listened to our discourse, gave it as her\nopinion that the method I had proposed was by far the safest, quickest,\nand cheapest. \"Not,\" said she, \"as I think thou wouldest be against any\nnecessary expense, though I am certain thou wouldest not fling thy money\naway.\"\nSoon after, my husband ordered the landlord to send for one of the\nmasters of the packet-boats, of whom he hired the great cabin, and\nagreed to sail from thence the next day, if the wind and the tide\nanswered.\nThe settling our method of going over sea had taken up the time till the\ndinner was ready, which we being informed of, came out of a chamber we\nhad been in all the morning, to a handsome parlour, where everything was\nplaced suitable to our rank; there was a large, old-fashioned service of\nplate, and a sideboard genteelly set off. The dinner was excellent, and\nwell dressed.\nAfter dinner, we entered into another discourse, which was the hiring of\nservants to go with us from Dover to Paris; a thing frequently done by\ntravellers; and such are to be met with at every stage inn. Our footmen\nset out this morning on their return to London, and the Quaker and coach\nwas to go the next day. My new chambermaid, whose name was Isabel, was\nto go through the journey, on condition of doing no other business than\nwaiting on me. In a while we partly concluded to let the hiring of\nmen-servants alone till we came to Calais, for they could be of no use\nto us on board a ship, the sailor's or cabin boy's place being to attend\nthe cabin passengers as well as his master.\nTo divert ourselves, we took a walk after we had dined, round about the\ntown, and coming to the garrison, and being somewhat thirsty, all went\ninto the sutler's for a glass of wine. A pint was called for and\nbrought; but the man of the house came in with it raving like a madman,\nsaying, \"Don't you think you are a villain, to ask for a pot of ale when\nI know you have spent all your money, and are ignorant of the means of\ngetting more, without you hear of a place, which I look upon to be very\nunlikely?\" \"Don't be in such a passion, landlord,\" said my husband.\n\"Pray, what is the matter?\" \"Oh, nothing, sir,\" says he; \"but a young\nfellow in the sutling room, whom I find to have been a gentleman's\nservant, wants a place; and having spent all his money, would willingly\nrun up a score with me, knowing I must get him a master if ever I intend\nto have my money.\" \"Pray, sir,\" said my husband, \"send the young fellow\nto me; if I like him, and can agree with him, it is possible I may take\nhim into my service.\" The landlord took care we should not speak to him\ntwice, he went and fetched him in himself, and my husband examined him\nbefore he spoke, as to his size, mien, and garb. The young man was clean\ndressed, of a middling stature, a dark complexion, and about\ntwenty-seven years old.\n\"I hear, young man,\" says he to him, \"that you want a place; it may\nperhaps be in my power to serve you. Let me know at once what education\nyou have had, if you have any family belonging to you, or if you are fit\nfor a gentleman's service, can bring any person of reputation to your\ncharacter, and are willing to go and live in Holland with me: we will\nnot differ about your wages.\"\nThe young fellow made a respectful bow to each of us, and addressed\nhimself to my husband as follows: \"Sir,\" said he, \"in me you behold the\neldest child of misfortune. I am but young, as you may see; I have no\ncomers after me, and having lived with several gentlemen, some of whom\nare on their travels, others settled in divers parts of the world,\nbesides what are dead, makes me unable to produce a character without a\nweek's notice to write to London, and I should not doubt but by the\nreturn of the post to let you see some letters as would satisfy you in\nany doubts about me. My education,\" continued he, \"is but very middling,\nbeing taken from school before I had well learnt to read, write, and\ncast accounts; and as to my parentage, I cannot well give you any\naccount of them: all that I know is, that my father was a brewer, and by\nhis extravagance ran out a handsome fortune, and afterwards left my poor\nmother almost penniless, with five small children, of which I was the\nsecond, though not above five years old. My mother knew not what to do\nwith us, so she sent a poor girl, our maid, whose name I have forgot\nthis many years, with us all to a relation's, and there left us, and I\nnever saw or heard of or from them any more. Indeed, I inquired among\nthe neighbours, and all that I could learn was that my mother's goods\nwere seized, that she was obliged to apply to the parish for relief, and\ndied of grief soon after. For my part,\" says he, \"I was put into the\nhands of my father's sister, where, by her cruel usage, I was forced to\nrun away at nine years of age; and the numerous scenes of life I have\nsince gone through are more than would fill a small volume. Pray, sir,\"\nadded he, \"let it satisfy you that I am thoroughly honest, and should be\nglad to serve you at any rate; and although I cannot possibly get a good\ncharacter from anybody at present, yet I defy the whole world to give me\nan ill one, either in public or private life.\"\nIf I had had the eyes of Argus I should have seen with them all on this\noccasion. I knew that this was my son, and one that, among all my\ninquiry, I could never get any account of. The Quaker seeing my colour\ncome and go, and also tremble, said, \"I verily believe thou art not\nwell; I hope this Kentish air, which was always reckoned aguish, does\nnot hurt thee?\" \"I am taken very sick of a sudden,\" said I; \"so pray let\nme go to our inn that I may go to my chamber.\" Isabel being called in,\nshe and the Quaker attended me there, leaving the young fellow with my\nspouse. When I was got into my chamber I was seized with such a grief as\nI had never known before; and flinging myself down upon the bed, burst\ninto a flood of tears, and soon after fainted away. Soon after, I came a\nlittle to myself, and the Quaker begged of me to tell her what was the\ncause of my sudden indisposition. \"Nothing at all,\" says I, \"as I know\nof; but a sudden chilliness seized my blood, and that, joined to a\nfainting of the spirits, made me ready to sink.\"\nPresently after my husband came to see how I did, and finding me\nsomewhat better, he told me that he had a mind to hire the young man I\nhad left him with, for he believed he was honest and fit for our\nservice. \"My dear,\" says I, \"I did not mind him. I would desire you to\nbe cautious who we pick up on the road; but as I have the satisfaction\nof hiring my maids, I shall never trouble myself with the men-servants,\nthat is wholly your province. However,\" added I (for I was very certain\nhe was my son, and was resolved to have him in my service, though it was\nmy interest to keep my husband off, in order to bring him on), \"if you\nlike the fellow, I am not averse to your hiring one servant in England.\nWe are not obliged to trust him with much before we see his conduct,\nand if he does not prove as you may expect, you may turn him off\nwhenever you please.\" \"I believe,\" said my husband, \"he has been\ningenuous in his relation to me; and as a man who has seen great variety\nof life, and may have been the shuttlecock of fortune, the butt of envy,\nand the mark of malice, I will hire him when he comes to me here anon,\nas I have ordered him.\"\nAs I knew he was to be hired, I resolved to be out of the way when he\ncame to my husband; so about five o'clock I proposed to the Quaker to\ntake a walk on the pier and see the shipping, while the tea-kettle was\nboiling. We went, and took Isabel with us, and as we were going along I\nsaw my son Thomas (as I shall for the future call him) going to our inn;\nso we stayed out about an hour, and when we returned my husband told me\nhe had hired the man, and that he was to come to him as a servant on the\nmorrow morning. \"Pray, my dear,\" said I, \"did you ask where he ever\nlived, or what his name is?\" \"Yes,\" replied my husband, \"he says his\nname is Thomas ----; and as to places, he has mentioned several families\nof note, and among others, he lived at my Lord ----'s, next door to the\ngreat French lady's in Pall Mall, whose name he tells me was Roxana.\" I\nwas now in a sad dilemma, and was fearful I should be known by my own\nson; and the Quaker took notice of it, and afterwards told me she\nbelieved fortune had conspired that all the people I became acquainted\nwith, should have known the Lady Roxana. \"I warrant,\" said she, \"this\nyoung fellow is somewhat acquainted with the impertinent wench that\ncalls herself thy daughter.\"\nI was very uneasy in mind, but had one thing in my favour, which was\nalways to keep myself at a very great distance from my servants; and as\nthe Quaker was to part with us the next day or night, he would have\nnobody to mention the name Roxana to, and so of course it would drop.\nWe supped pretty late at night, and were very merry, for my husband said\nall the pleasant things he could think of, to divert me from the\nsupposed illness he thought I had been troubled with in the day. The\nQuaker kept up the discourse with great spirit, and I was glad to\nreceive the impression, for I wanted the real illness to be drove out of\nmy head.\nThe next morning, after breakfast, Thomas came to his new place. He\nappeared very clean, and brought with him a small bundle, which I\nsupposed to be linen tied up in a handkerchief. My husband sent him to\norder some porters belonging to the quay to fetch our boxes to the\nCustom-house, where they were searched, for which we paid one shilling;\nand he had orders to give a crown for head money, as they called it;\ntheir demand by custom is but sixpence a head, but we appeared to our\ncircumstances in everything. As soon as our baggage was searched, it was\ncarried from the Custom-house on board the packet-boat, and there\nlodged in the great cabin as we had ordered it.\nThis took up the time till dinner, and when we were sitting together\nafter we had both dined, the captain came to tell us that the wind was\nvery fair, and that he was to sail at high water, which would be about\nten o'clock at night. My husband asked him to stay and drink part of a\nbottle of wine with him, which he did; and their discourse being all in\nthe maritime strain, the Quaker and I retired and left them together,\nfor I had something to remind her of in our discourse before we left\nLondon. When we got into the garden, which was rather neat than fine, I\nrepeated all my former requests to her about my children, Spitalfields,\nAmy, &c., and we sat talking together till Thomas was sent to tell us\nthe captain was going, on which we returned; but, by the way, I kissed\nher and put a large gold medal into her hand, as a token of my sincere\nlove, and desired that she would never neglect the things she had\npromised to perform, and her repeated promise gave me great\nsatisfaction.\nThe captain, who was going out of the parlour as we returned in, was\ntelling my husband he would send six of his hands to conduct us to the\nboat, about a quarter of an hour before he sailed, and as the moon was\nat the full, he did not doubt of a pleasant passage.\nOur next business was to pay off the coachman, to whom my husband gave\nhalf a guinea extraordinary, to set the Quaker down at the house he\ntook us all up at, which he promised to perform.\nAs it was low water, we went on board to see the cabin that we were to\ngo our voyage in, and the captain would detain us to drink a glass of\nthe best punch, I think, I ever tasted.\nWhen we returned to the inn, we ordered supper to be ready by eight\no'clock, that we might drink a parting glass to settle it, before we\nwent on board; for my husband, who knew the sea very well, said a full\nstomach was the forerunner of sea-sickness, which I was willing to\navoid.\nWe invited the landlord, his wife, and daughter, to supper with us, and\nhaving sat about an hour afterwards, the captain himself, with several\nsailors, came to fetch us to the vessel. As all was paid, we had nothing\nto hinder us but taking a final leave of the Quaker, who would go to see\nus safe in the vessel, where tears flowed from both our eyes; and I\nturned short in the boat, while my husband took his farewell, and he\nthen followed me, and I never saw the Quaker or England any more.\nWe were no sooner on board than we hoisted sail; the anchors being up,\nand the wind fair, we cut the waves at a great rate, till about four\no'clock in the morning, when a French boat came to fetch the mail to\ncarry it to the post-house, and the boat cast her anchors, for we were a\ngood distance from the shore, neither could we sail to the town till\nnext tide, the present one being too far advanced in the ebb.\nWe might have gone on shore in the boat that carried the mail, but my\nhusband was sleeping in the cabin when it came to the packet-boat, and I\ndid not care to disturb him; however, we had an opportunity soon after,\nfor my husband awaking, and two other boats coming up with oars to see\nfor passengers, Thomas came to let us know we might go on shore, if we\npleased. My husband paid the master of the packet-boat for our passage,\nand Thomas, with the sailors' assistance, got our boxes into the wherry,\nso we sailed for Calais; but before our boat came to touch ground,\nseveral men, whose bread I suppose it is, rushed into the water, without\nshoes or stockings, to carry us on shore; so having paid ten shillings\nfor the wherry, we each of us was carried from the boat to the land by\ntwo men, and our goods brought after us; here was a crown to be paid, to\nsave ourselves from being wet, by all which a man that is going a\ntravelling may see that it is not the bare expense of the packet-boat\nthat will carry him to Calais.\nIt would be needless to inform the reader of all the ceremonies that we\npassed through at this place before we were suffered to proceed on our\njourney; however, our boxes having been searched at the Custom-house, my\nhusband had them plumbed, as they called it, to hinder any further\ninquiry about them; and we got them all to the Silver Lion, a noted inn,\nand the post-house of this place, where we took a stage-coach for\nourselves, and the next morning, having well refreshed ourselves, we\nall, viz., my husband, self, and chambermaid within the coach, and\nThomas behind (beside which my husband hired two horsemen well armed,\nwho were pretty expensive, to travel with us), set forward on our\njourney.\nWe were five days on our journey from Calais to Paris, which we went\nthrough with much satisfaction, for, having fine weather and good\nattendance, we had nothing to hope for.\nWhen we arrived at Paris (I began to be sorry I had ever proposed going\nto it for fear of being known, but as we were to stay there but a few\ndays, I was resolved to keep very retired), we went to a merchant's\nhouse of my husband's acquaintance in the Rue de la Bourle, near the\nCarmelites, in the Faubourg de St. Jacques.\nThis being a remote part of the city, on the south side, and near\nseveral pleasant gardens, I thought it would be proper to be a little\nindisposed, that my husband might not press me to go with him to see the\ncuriosities; for he could do the most needful business, such as going to\nthe bankers to exchange bills, despatching of letters, settling affairs\nwith merchants, &c., without my assistance; and I had a tolerable plea\nfor my conduct, such as the great fatigue of our journey, being among\nstrangers, &c.; so we stayed at Paris eight days without my going to any\nparticular places, except going one day to the gardens of Luxembourg,\nanother to the church of Notre Dame on the Isle of Paris, a third to the\nH\u00f4tel Royale des Invalides, a fourth to the gardens of the Tuileries, a\nfifth to the suburbs of St. Lawrence, to see the fair which was then\nholding there; a sixth to the gardens of the Louvre, a seventh to the\nplayhouse, and the eighth stayed all day at home to write a letter to\nthe Quaker, letting her know where I then was, and how soon we should go\nforwards in our journey, but did not mention where we intended to\nsettle, as, indeed, we had not yet settled that ourselves.\nOne of the days, viz., that in which I went to the gardens of the\nTuileries, I asked Thomas several questions about his father, mother,\nand other relations, being resolved, notwithstanding he was my own son,\nas he did not know it, to turn him off by some stratagem or another, if\nhe had any manner of memory of me, either as his mother, or the Lady\nRoxana. I asked him if he had any particular memory of his mother or\nfather; he answered, \"No, I scarce remember anything of either of them,\"\nsaid he, \"but I have heard from several people that I had one brother\nand three sisters, though I never saw them all, to know them,\nnotwithstanding I lived with an aunt four years; I often asked after my\nmother, and some people said she went away with a man, but it was\nallowed by most people, that best knew her, that she, being brought to\nthe greatest distress, was carried to the workhouse belonging to the\nparish, where she died soon after with grief.\"\nNothing could give me more satisfaction than what Thomas had related; so\nnow, I thought I would ask about the Lady Roxana (for he had been my\nnext-door neighbour when I had that title conferred on me). \"Pray,\nThomas,\" said I, \"did not you speak of a great person of quality, whose\nname I have forgot, that lived next door to my Lord ----'s when you was\nhis valet? pray who was she? I suppose a foreigner, by the name you\ncalled her.\" \"Really, my lady,\" replied he, \"I do not know who she was;\nall I can say of her is, that she kept the greatest company, and was a\nbeautiful woman, by report, but I never saw her; she was called the Lady\nRoxana, was a very good mistress, but her character was not so good as\nto private life as it ought to be. Though I once had an opportunity,\"\ncontinued he, \"of seeing a fine outlandish dress she danced in before\nthe king, which I took as a great favour, for the cook took me up when\nthe lady was out, and she desired my lady's woman to show it to me.\"\nAll this answered right, and I had nothing to do but to keep my Turkish\ndress out of the way, to be myself unknown to my child, for as he had\nnever seen Roxana, so he knew nothing of me.\nIn the interval, my husband had hired a stage-coach to carry us to the\ncity of Menin, where he intended to go by water down the river Lys to\nGhent, and there take coach to Isabella fort, opposite the city of\nAnvers, and cross the river to that place, and go from thence by land to\nBreda; and as he had agreed and settled this patrol, I was satisfied,\nand we set out next day. We went through several handsome towns and\nvillages before we took water, but by water we went round part of the\ncity of Courtrai, and several fortified towns. At Anvers we hired a\ncoach to Breda, where we stayed two days to refresh ourselves, for we\nhad been very much fatigued; as Willemstadt was situated so as to be\nconvenient for our taking water for Rotterdam, we went there, and being\nshipped, had a safe and speedy voyage to that city.\nAs we had resolved in our journey to settle at the Hague, we did not\nintend to stay any longer at Rotterdam, than while my husband had all\nour wealth delivered to him from the several merchants he had consigned\nit to. This business took up a month, during which time we lived in\nready-furnished lodgings on the Great Quay, where all the respect was\nshown us as was due to our quality.\nHere my husband hired two more men-servants, and I took two maids, and\nturned Isabel, who was a well-bred, agreeable girl, into my companion;\nbut that I might not be too much fatigued, my husband went to the Hague\nfirst, and left me, with three maids and Thomas, at Rotterdam, while he\ntook a house, furnished it, and had everything ready for my reception,\nwhich was done with great expedition. One of his footmen came with a\nletter to me one morning, to let me know his master would come by the\nscow next day to take me home, in which he desired that I would prepare\nfor my departure. I soon got everything ready, and the next morning, on\nthe arrival of the scow, I saw my husband; and we both, with all the\nservants, left the city of Rotterdam, and safely got to the Hague the\nafternoon following.\nIt was now the servants had notice given them to call me by the name of\n\"my lady,\" as the honour of baronetage had entitled me, and with which\ntitle I was pretty well satisfied, but should have been more so had not\nI yet the higher title of countess in view.\nI now lived in a place where I knew nobody, neither was I known, on\nwhich I was pretty careful whom I became acquainted with; our\ncircumstances were very good, my husband loving, to the greatest degree,\nmy servants respectful; and, in short, I lived the happiest life woman\ncould enjoy, had my former crimes never crept into my guilty conscience.\nI was in this happy state of life when I wrote a letter to the Quaker,\nin which I gave her a direction where she might send to me. And about a\nfortnight after, as I was one afternoon stepping into my coach in order\nto take an airing, the postman came to our door with letters, one of\nwhich was directed to me, and as soon as I saw it was the Quaker's hand,\nI bid the coachman put up again, and went into my closet to read the\ncontents, which were as follows:\n     \"DEAR FRIEND,--I have had occasion to write to thee several times\n     since we saw each other, but as this is my first letter, so it\n     shall contain all the business thou wouldst know. I got safe to\n     London, by thy careful ordering of the coach, and the attendants\n     were not at all wanting in their duty. When I had been at home a\n     few days, thy woman, Mrs. Amy, came to see me, so I took her to\n     task as thou ordered me, about murdering thy pretended daughter;\n     she declared her innocence, but said she had procured a false\n     evidence to swear a large debt against her, and by that means had\n     put her into a prison, and fee'd the keepers to hinder her from\n     sending any letter or message out of the prison to any person\n     whatever. This, I suppose, was the reason thou thought she was\n     murdered, because thou wert relieved from her by this base usage.\n     However, when I heard of it, I checked Amy very much, but was well\n     satisfied to hear she was alive. After this I did not hear from Amy\n     for above a month, and in the interim (as I knew thou wast safe), I\n     sent a friend of mine to pay the debt, and release the prisoner,\n     which he did, but was so indiscreet as to let her know who was the\n     benefactress. My next care was to manage thy Spitalfields business,\n     which I did with much exactness. And the day that I received thy\n     last letter, Amy came to me again, and I read as much of it to her\n     as she was concerned in: nay, I entreated her to drink tea with me,\n     and after it one glass of citron, in which she drank towards thy\n     good health, and she told me she would come to see thee as soon as\n     possible. Just as she was gone, I was reading thy letter again in\n     the little parlour, and that turbulent creature (thy pretended\n     daughter) came to me, as she said, to return thanks for the favour\n     I had done her, so I accidentally laid thy letter down in the\n     window, while I went to fetch her a glass of cordial, for she\n     looked sadly; and before I returned I heard the street door shut,\n     on which I went back without the liquor, not knowing who might have\n     come in, but missing her, I thought she might be gone to stand at\n     the door, and the wind had blown it to; but I was never the nearer,\n     she was sought for in vain. So when I believed her to be quite\n     gone, I looked to see if I missed anything, which I did not; but at\n     last, to my great surprise, I missed your letter, which she\n     certainly took and made off with. I was so terrified at this\n     unhappy chance that I fainted away, and had not one of my maidens\n     come in at that juncture, it might have been attended with fatal\n     consequences. I would advise thee to prepare thyself to see her,\n     for I verily believe she will come to thee. I dread your knowing of\n     this, but hope the best. Before I went to fetch the unhappy\n     cordial, she told me, as she had often done before, that she was\n     the eldest daughter, that the captain's wife was your second\n     daughter, and her sister, and that the youngest sister was dead.\n     She also said there were two brothers, the eldest of whom had never\n     been seen by any of them since he run away from an uncle's at nine\n     years of age, and that the youngest had been taken care of by an\n     old lady that kept her coach, whom he took to be his godmother. She\n     gave me a long history in what manner she was arrested and flung\n     into Whitechapel jail, how hardly she fared there; and at length\n     the keeper's wife, to whom she told her pitiful story, took\n     compassion of her, and recommended her to the bounty of a certain\n     lady who lived in that neighbourhood, that redeemed prisoners for\n     small sums, and who lay for their fees, every return of the day of\n     her nativity; that she was one of the six the lady had discharged;\n     that the lady prompted her to seek after her mother; that she\n     thereupon did seek thee in all the towns and villages between\n     London and Dover; that not finding thee at Dover she went to Deal;\n     and that at length, she being tired of seeking thee, she returned\n     by shipping to London, where she was no sooner arrived but she was\n     immediately arrested and flung into the Marshalsea prison, where\n     she lived in a miserable condition, without the use of pen, ink,\n     and paper, and without the liberty of having any one of her friends\n     come near her. 'In this condition I was,' continued she, 'when you\n     sent and paid my debt for me, and discharged me.' When she had\n     related all this she fell into such a fit of crying, sighing, and\n     sobbing, from which, when she was a little recovered, she broke out\n     into loud exclamations against the wickedness of the people in\n     England, that they could be so unchristian as to arrest her twice,\n     when she said it was as true as the Gospel that she never did owe\n     to any one person the sum of one shilling in all her life; that she\n     could not think who it was that should owe her so much ill-will,\n     for that she was not conscious to herself that she had any ways\n     offended any person in the whole universal world, except Mrs. Amy,\n     in the case of her mother, which, she affirmed, she was acquitted\n     of by all men, and hoped she should be so by her Maker; and that if\n     she (Mrs. Amy) had any hand in her sufferings, God would forgive\n     her, as she heartily did. 'But then,' she added, 'I will not stay\n     in England, I will go all over the world, I will go to France, to\n     Paris; I know my mother did once live there, and if I do not find\n     her there, I will go through Holland, to Amsterdam, to Rotterdam;\n     in short, I will go till I find my mother out, if I should die in\n     the pursuit.' I should be glad to hear of thine and thy spouse's\n     welfare, and remain with much sincerity, your sincere friend,\n     \"The ninth of the month called October.\n     \"P.S.--If thou hast any business to transact in this city, pray let\n     me know; I shall use my best endeavours to oblige thee; my\n     daughters all join with me in willing thee a hearty farewell.\"\nI concealed my surprise for a few minutes, only till I could get into\nthe summer-house, at the bottom of our large garden; but when I was shut\nin, no living soul can describe the agony I was in, I raved, tore,\nfainted away, swore, prayed, wished, cried, and promised, but all\navailed nothing, I was now stuck in to see the worst of it, let what\nwould happen.\nAt last I came to the following resolution, which was to write a letter\nto the Quaker, and in it enclose a fifty pound bank-bill, and tell the\nQuaker to give that to the young woman if she called again, and also to\nlet her know a fifty pound bill should be sent her every year, so long\nas she made no inquiry after me, and kept herself retired in England.\nAlthough this opened myself too full to the Quaker, yet I thought I had\nbetter venture my character abroad, than destroy my peace at home.\nSoon after, my husband came home, and he perceived I had been crying,\nand asked what was the reason. I told him that I had shed tears both\nfor joy and sorrow: \"For,\" said I, \"I have received one of the\ntenderest letters from Amy, as it was possible for any person, and she\ntells me in it,\" added I, \"that she will soon come to see me; which so\noverjoyed me, that I cried, and after it, I went to read the letter a\nsecond time, as I was looking out of the summer-house window over the\ncanal; and in unfolding it, I accidentally let it fall in, by which\nmischance it is lost, for which I am very sorry, as I intended you\nshould see it.\" \"Pray, my dear,\" said he, \"do not let that give you any\nuneasiness; if Amy comes, and you approve of it, you have my consent to\ntake her into the house, in what capacity you please. I am very glad,\"\ncontinued he, \"that you have nothing of more consequence to be uneasy\nat, I fancy you would make but an indifferent helpmate if you had.\" Oh!\nthought I to myself, if you but knew half the things that lie on my\nconscience, I believe you would think that I bear them out past all\nexample.\nAbout ten days afterwards, as we were sitting at dinner with two\ngentlemen, one of the footmen came to the door, and said, \"My lady, here\nis a gentlewoman at the door who desires to speak with you: she says her\nname is Mrs. Amy.\"\nI no sooner heard her name, but I was ready to swoon away, but I ordered\nthe footman to call Isabel, and ask the gentlewoman to walk up with her\ninto my dressing-room; which he immediately did, and there I went to\nhave my first interview with her. She kissed me for joy when she saw\nme, and I sent Isabel downstairs, for I was in pain till I had some\nprivate conversation with my old confidante.\nThere was not much ceremony between us, before I told her all the\nmaterial circumstances that had happened in her absence, especially\nabout the girl's imprisonments which she had contrived, and how she had\ngot my letter at the Quaker's, the very day she had been there. \"Well,\"\nsays Amy, when I had told her all, \"I find nothing is to ensue, if she\nlives, but your ruin; you would not agree to her death, so I will not\nmake myself uneasy about her life; it might have been rectified, but you\nwere angry with me for giving you the best of counsel, viz., when I\nproposed to murder her.\"\n\"Hussy,\" said I, in the greatest passion imaginable, \"how dare you\nmention the word murder? You wretch you, I could find in my heart, if my\nhusband and the company were gone, to kick you out of my house. Have you\nnot done enough to kill her, in throwing her into one of the worst jails\nin England, where, you see, that Providence in a peculiar manner\nappeared to her assistance. Away! thou art a wicked wretch; thou art a\nmurderer in the sight of God.\"\n\"I will say no more,\" says Amy, \"but if I could have found her, after\nthy friend the Quaker had discharged her out of the Marshalsea prison, I\nhad laid a scheme to have her taken up for a theft, and by that means\ngot her transported for fourteen years. She will be with you soon, I am\nsure; I believe she is now in Holland.\"\nWhile we were in this discourse, I found the gentlemen who dined with us\nwere going, so we came downstairs, and I went into the parlour to take\nleave of them before their departure. When they were gone, my husband\ntold me he had been talking with them about taking upon him the title of\nCount or Earl of ----, as he had told me of, and as an opportunity now\noffered, he was going to put it in execution.\nI told him I was so well settled, as not to want anything this world\ncould afford me, except the continuance of his life and love (though the\nvery thing he had mentioned, joined with the death of my daughter, in\nthe natural way, would have been much more to my satisfaction). \"Well,\nmy dear,\" says he, \"the expense will be but small, and as I promised you\nthe title, it shall not be long before the honour shall be brought home\nto your toilette.\" He was as good as his word, for that day week he\nbrought the patent home to me, in a small box covered with crimson\nvelvet and two gold hinges. \"There, my lady countess,\" says he, \"long\nmay you live to bear the title, for I am certain you are a credit to\nit.\" In a few days after, I had the pleasure to see our equipage, as\ncoach, chariot, &c., all new painted, and a coronet fixed at the proper\nplace, and, in short, everything was proportioned to our quality, so\nthat our house vied with most of the other nobility.\nIt was at this juncture that I was at the pinnacle of all my worldly\nfelicity, notwithstanding my soul was black with the foulest crimes.\nAnd, at the same time, I may begin to reckon the beginning of my\nmisfortunes, which were in embryo, but were very soon brought forth, and\nhurried me on to the greatest distress.\nAs I was sitting one day talking to Amy in our parlour, and the street\ndoor being left open by one of the servants, I saw my daughter pass by\nthe window, and without any ceremony she came to the parlour door, and\nopening of it, came boldly in. I was terribly amazed, and asked her who\nshe wanted, as if I had not known her, but Amy's courage was quite lost,\nand she swooned away. \"Your servant, my lady,\" says she; \"I thought I\nshould never have had the happiness to see you _t\u00eate-\u00e0-t\u00eate_, till your\nagent, the Quaker, in Haydon Yard, in the Minories, carelessly left a\ndirection for me in her own window; however, she is a good woman, for\nshe released me out of a jail in which, I believe, that base wretch\"\n(pointing to Amy, who was coming to herself) \"caused me to be confined.\"\nAs soon as Amy recovered, she flew at her like a devil, and between them\nthere was so much noise as alarmed the servants, who all came to see\nwhat was the matter. Amy had pulled down one of my husband's swords,\ndrawn it, and was just going to run her through the body, as the\nservants came in, who not knowing anything of the matter, some of them\nsecured Amy, others held the girl, and the rest were busy about me, to\nprevent my fainting away, which was more than they could do, for I fell\ninto strong fits, and in the interim they turned the girl out of the\nhouse, who was fully bent on revenge.\nMy lord, as I now called him, was gone out a-hunting. I was satisfied he\nknew nothing of it, as yet, and when Amy and I were thoroughly come to\nourselves, we thought it most advisable to find the girl out, and give\nher a handsome sum of money to keep her quiet. So Amy went out, but in\nall her searching could hear nothing of her; this made me very uneasy. I\nguessed she would contrive to see my lord before he came home, and so it\nproved, as you shall presently hear.\nWhen night came on, that I expected his return, I wondered I did not see\nhim. Amy sat up in my chamber with me, and was as much concerned as was\npossible. Well, he did not come in all that night, but the next morning,\nabout ten o'clock, he rapped at the door, with the girl along with him.\nWhen it was opened, he went into the great parlour, and bid Thomas go\ncall down his lady. This was the crisis. I now summoned up all my\nresolution, and took Amy down with me, to see if we could not baffle the\ngirl, who, to an inch, was her mother's own child.\nIt will be necessary here to give a short account of our debate, because\non it all my future misery depended, and it made me lose my husband's\nlove, and own my daughter; who would not rest there, but told my lord\nhow many brothers and sisters she had.\nWhen we entered the room, my lord was walking very gravely about it, but\nwith his brows knit, and a wild confusion in his face, as if all the\nmalice and revenge of a Dutchman had joined to put me out of countenance\nbefore I spoke a word.\n\"Pray, madam,\" says he, \"do you know this young woman? I expect a speedy\nand positive answer, without the least equivocation.\"\n\"Really, my lord,\" replied I, \"to give you an answer as quick as you\ndesire, I declare I do not.\"\n\"Do not!\" said he, \"what do you mean by that? She tells me that you are\nher mother, and that her father ran away from you, and left two sons,\nand two daughters besides herself, who were all sent to their relations\nfor provision, after which you ran away with a jeweller to Paris. Do you\nknow anything of this? answer me quickly.\"\n\"My lord,\" said the girl, \"there is Mrs. Amy, who was my mother's\nservant at the time (as she told me herself about three months ago),\nknows very well I am the person I pretend to be, and caused me to be\nthrown into jail for debts I knew nothing of, because I should not find\nout my mother to make myself known to her before she left England.\"\nAfter this she told my lord everything she knew of me, even in the\ncharacter of Roxana, and described my dress so well, that he knew it to\nbe mine.\n[Illustration: ROXANA IS CONFRONTED WITH HER DAUGHTER\n\"_Pray, madam,\" says he, \"do you know this young woman?_\"]\nWhen she had quite gone through her long relation, \"Well, madam,\"\nsays he, \"now let me see if I cannot tell how far she has told the truth\nin relation to you. When I first became acquainted with you, it was on\nthe sale of those jewels, in which I stood so much your friend, at a\ntime that you were in the greatest distress, your substance being in the\nhands of the Jew; you then passed for a jeweller's widow; this agrees\nwith her saying you ran away with a jeweller. In the next place, you\nwould not consent to marry me about twelve years ago; I suppose then\nyour real husband was living, for nothing else could tally with your\ncondescension to me in everything except marriage. Since that time, your\nrefusing to come to Holland in the vessel I had provided for you, under\na distant prospect of your being with child, though in reality it was\nyour having a child too much, as the captain told me of, when I, being\nignorant of the case, did not understand him. Now,\" continued he, \"she\nsays that you are the identical Lady Roxana which made so much noise in\nthe world, and has even described the robe and head-dress you wore on\nthat occasion, and in that I know she is right; for, to my own\nknowledge, you have that very dress by you now; I having seen you\ndressed in it at our lodging at the Quaker's. From all these\ncircumstances,\" says he, \"I may be assured that you have imposed grossly\nupon me, and instead of being a woman of honour as I took you for, I\nfind that you have been an abandoned wretch, and had nothing to\nrecommend you but a sum of money and a fair countenance, joined to a\nfalse unrelenting heart.\"\nThese words of my lord's struck such a damp upon my spirits, as made me\nunable to speak in my turn. But at last, I spoke as follows: \"My lord, I\nhave most patiently stood to hear all it was possible for you to allege\nagainst me, which has no other proof than imagination. That I was the\nwife of a brewer, I have no reason now to deny, neither had I any\noccasion before to acknowledge it. I brought him a handsome fortune,\nwhich, joined to his, made us appear in a light far superior to our\nneighbours. I had also five children by him, two sons and three\ndaughters, and had my husband been as wise as rich, we might have lived\nhappily together now. But it was not so, for he minded nothing but\nsporting, in almost every branch; and closely following of it soon run\nout all his substance, and then left me in an unhappy, helpless\ncondition. I did not send my children to my relations till the greatest\nnecessity drove me, and after that, hearing my husband was dead, I\nmarried the jeweller, who was afterwards murdered. If I had owned how\nmany children I had, the jeweller would not have married me, and the way\nof life I was in would not keep my family, so I was forced to deny them\nin order to get them bread. Neither can I say that I have either heard\nor known anything of my children since, excepting that I heard they were\nall taken care of; and this was the very reason I would not marry you,\nwhen you offered it some years since, for these children lay seriously\nat my heart, and as I did not want money, my inclination was to come to\nEngland, and not entail five children upon you the day of marriage.\"\n\"Pray, madam,\" said my lord, interrupting me, \"I do not find that you\nkept up to your resolutions when you got there; you were so far from\ndoing your duty as a parent, that you even neglected the civility of\nacquaintances, for they would have asked after them, but your whole\nscheme has been to conceal yourself as much as possible, and even when\nyou were found out, denied yourself, as witness the case of your\ndaughter here. As to the character of Lady Roxana, which you so nicely\nmanaged,\" said he, \"did that become a woman that had five children,\nwhose necessity had obliged you to leave them, to live in a continual\nscene of pageantry and riot, I could almost say debauchery? Look into\nyour conduct, and see if you deserve to have the title or the estate you\nnow so happily enjoy.\"\nAfter this speech, he walked about the room in a confused manner for\nsome minutes, and then addressed himself to Amy. \"Pray, Mrs. Amy,\" says\nhe, \"give me your judgment in this case, for although I know you are as\nmuch as possible in your lady's interest, yet I cannot think you have so\nlittle charity as to think she acted like a woman of worth and\ndiscretion. Do you really think, as you knew all of them from infants,\nthat this young woman is your lady's daughter?\"\nAmy, who always had spirits enough about her, said at once she believed\nthe girl was my daughter. \"And truly,\" says she, \"I think your man\nThomas is her eldest son, for the tale he tells of his birth and\neducation suits exactly with our then circumstances.\"\n\"Why, indeed,\" said my lord, \"I believe so too, for I now recollect that\nwhen we first took him into our service at Dover, he told me he was the\nson of a brewer in London; that his father had run away from his mother,\nand left her in a distressed condition with five children, of which he\nwas second child, or eldest son.\"\nThomas was then called into the parlour, and asked what he knew of his\nfamily; he repeated all as above, concerning his father's running away\nand leaving me; but said that he had often asked and inquired after\nthem, but without any success, and concluded, that he believed his\nbrothers and sisters were distributed in several places, and that his\nmother died in the greatest distress, and was buried by the parish.\n\"Indeed,\" said my lord, \"it is my opinion that Thomas is one of your\nsons; do not you think the same?\" addressing himself to me.\n\"From the circumstances that have been related, my lord,\" said I, \"I now\nbelieve that these are both my children; but you would have thought me a\nmad woman to have countenanced and taken this young woman in as my\nchild, without a thorough assurance of it; for that would have been\nrunning myself to a certain expense and trouble, without the least\nglimpse of real satisfaction.\"\n\"Pray,\" said my lord to my daughter, \"let me know what is become of\nyour brothers and sisters; give me the best account of them that you\ncan.\"\n\"My lord,\" replied she, \"agreeably to your commands, I will inform you\nto the best of my knowledge; and to begin with myself, who am the eldest\nof the five. I was put to a sister of my father's with my youngest\nbrother, who, by mere dint of industry, gave us maintenance and\neducation, suitable to her circumstances; and she, with my uncle's\nconsent, let me go to service when I was advanced in years; and among\nthe variety of places I lived at, Lady Roxana's was one.\"\n\"Yes,\" said Thomas, \"I knew her there, when I was a valet at my Lord\nD----'s, the next door; it was there I became acquainted with her; and\nshe, by the consent of the gentlewoman,\" pointing to Amy, \"let me see\nthe Lady Roxana's fine vestment, which she danced in at the grand ball.\"\n\"Well,\" continued my daughter, \"after I left this place, I was at\nseveral others before I became acquainted with Mrs. Amy a second time (I\nknew her before as Roxana's woman), who told me one day some things\nrelating to my mother, and from thence I concluded if she was not my\nmother herself (as I at first thought she was), she must be employed by\nher; for no stranger could profess so much friendship, where there was\nno likelihood of any return, after being so many years asunder.\n\"After this, I made it my business to find your lady out if possible,\nand was twice in her company, once on board the ship you were to have\ncome to Holland in, and once at the Quaker's house in the Minories,\nLondon; but as I gave her broad hints of whom I took her for, and my\nlady did not think proper to own me, I began to think I was mistaken,\ntill your voyage to Holland was put off. Soon after, I was flung into\nWhitechapel jail for a false debt, but, through the recommendation of\nthe jailer's wife to the annual charity of the good Lady Roberts, of\nMile End, I was discharged. Whereupon I posted away, seeking my mother\nall down the Kent Road as far as Dover and Deal, at which last place not\nfinding her, I came in a coaster to London, and landing in Southwark,\nwas immediately arrested, and confined in the Marshalsea prison, where I\nremained some time, deprived of every means to let any person without\nthe prison know my deplorable state and condition, till my chum, a young\nwoman, my bedfellow, who was also confined for debt, was, by a\ngentleman, discharged. This young woman of her own free will, went, my\nlord, to your lodgings in the Minories, and acquainted your landlady,\nthe Quaker, where I was, and for what sum I was confined, who\nimmediately sent and paid the pretended debt, and so I was a second time\ndischarged. Upon which, going to the Quaker's to return her my thanks\nsoon after a letter from your lady to her, with a direction in it where\nto find you, falling into my hands, I set out the next morning for the\nHague; and I humbly hope your pardon, my lord, for the liberty I have\ntaken; and you may be assured, that whatever circumstances of life I\nhappen to be in, I will be no disgrace to your lordship or family.\"\n\"Well,\" said my husband, \"what can you say of your mother's second\nchild, who, I hear, was a son?\"\n\"My lord,\" said I, \"it is in my power to tell you, that Thomas there is\nthe son you mention; their circumstances are the same, with this\ndifference, that she was brought up under the care of a good aunt, and\nthe boy forced to run away from a bad one, and shift for his bread ever\nsince; so if she is my daughter, he is my son, and to oblige you, my\nlord, I own her, and to please myself I will own him, and they two are\nbrother and sister.\" I had no sooner done speaking, than Thomas fell\ndown before me, and asked my blessing, after which, he addressed himself\nto my lord as follows:\n\"My lord,\" said he, \"out of your abundant goodness you took me into your\nservice at Dover. I told you then the circumstances I was in, which will\nsave your lordship much time by preventing a repetition; but, if your\nlordship pleases, it shall be carefully penned down, for such a variety\nof incidents has happened to me in England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland,\nHolland, France, and the Isle of Man, in which I have travelled for\nabout eighteen years past, as may prove an agreeable amusement to you,\nwhen you are cloyed with better company; for as I have never been\nanything above a common servant, so my stories shall only consist of\nfacts, and such as are seldom to be met with, as they are all in low\nlife.\"\n\"Well, Thomas,\" said my lord, \"take your own time to do it, and I will\nreward you for your trouble.\"\n\"Now, madam,\" said my lord to my daughter, \"if you please to proceed.\"\n\"My lord,\" continued she, \"my mother's third child, which was a\ndaughter, lived with the relation I did, and got a place to wait upon a\nyoung lady whose father and mother were going to settle at Boulogne, in\nFrance; she went with them, and having stayed at this gentleman's (who\nwas a French merchant) two years, was married to a man with the consent\nof the family she lived in; and her master, by way of fortune, got him\nto be master of a French and Holland coaster, and this was the very\nperson whose ship you hired to come to Holland in; the captain's wife\nwas my own sister, consequently my lady's second daughter; as to my\nyoungest sister, she lived with the uncle and aunt Thomas ran away from,\nand died of the smallpox soon after. My youngest brother was put out\napprentice to a carpenter, where he improved in his business, till a\ngentlewoman came to his master and mistress (which I take by the\ndescription they gave me, to be Mrs. Amy), who had him put out to an\neducation fit for a merchant, and then sent him to the Indies, where he\nis now settled, and in a fair way to get a large estate. This, my lord,\nis the whole account I can at present give of them, and although it may\nseem very strange, I assure you, it is all the just truth.\"\nWhen she had finished her discourse, my lord turned to me, and said,\nthat since I that was her mother had neglected doing my duty, though\nsought so much after, he would take it upon himself to see both the girl\nand Thomas provided for, without any advising or letting me know\nanything about them; and added, with a malicious sneer, \"I must take\ncare of the child I have had by you too, or it will have but an\nindifferent parent to trust to in case of my decease.\"\nThis finished the discourse, and my lord withdrew into his study, in a\nhumour that I am unable to describe, and left me, Amy, Thomas, and my\ndaughter Susanna, as I must now call her, in the parlour together. We\nsat staring at each other some time, till at last Amy said, \"I suppose,\nmy lady, you have no farther business with your new daughter; she has\ntold her story, and may now dispose of herself to the best advantage she\ncan.\" \"No,\" said I, \"I have nothing to say to her, only that she shall\nnever be admitted into my presence again.\" The poor girl burst out into\ntears, and said, \"Pray, my lady, excuse me, for I am certain that were\nyou in my circumstances, you would have done the very action I have, and\nwould expect a pardon for committing the offence.\"\nAfter this, I said to Thomas, \"Keep what has been said to yourself, and\nI shall speak to you by-and-by;\" and then I withdrew, and went upstairs\nto my closet, leaving Amy with Susanna, who soon dismissed her, and\nfollowed me.\nWhen Amy came to me, \"Now, my lady,\" says she, \"what do you think of\nthis morning's work? I believe my lord is not so angry as we were\nfearful of.\" \"You are mistaken in your lord, Amy,\" said I, \"and are not\nso well acquainted with the deep and premeditated revenge of Dutchmen as\nI am, and although it may not be my husband's temper, yet I dread it as\nmuch, but shall see more at dinner time.\"\nSoon after this, my husband called Thomas, and bid him order the cloth\nfor his dinner to be laid in his study, and bid him tell his mother that\nhe would dine by himself. When I heard this, I was more shocked than I\nhad been yet. \"Now his anger begins to work, Amy,\" said I, \"how must I\nact?\" \"I do not know,\" answered she, \"but I will go into the study, and\ntry what can be done, and, as a faithful mediator, will try to bring you\ntogether.\" She was not long before she returned, and bursting into\ntears, \"I know not what to do,\" says she, \"for your husband is in a deep\nstudy, and when I told him you desired him to dine with you in the\nparlour as usual, he only said, 'Mrs. Amy, go to your lady, tell her to\ndine when and where she pleases, and pray obey her as your lady; but let\nher know from me that she has lost the tenderness I had for her as a\nwife, by the little thought she had of her children.'\"\nNothing could have shocked me more than the delivery of this message by\nAmy. I, almost bathed in tears, went to him myself; found him in a\nmelancholy posture reading in Milton's \"Paradise Regained.\" He looked at\nme very sternly when I entered his study, told me he had nothing to say\nto me at that time, and if I had a mind not to disturb him, I must leave\nhim for the present. \"My lord,\" said I, \"supposing all that has been\nsaid by this girl was truth, what reason have you to be in this\nunforgiving humour? What have I done to you to deserve this usage? Have\nyou found any fault with me since I had the happiness of being married\nto you? Did you ever find me in any company that you did not approve of?\nHave you any reason to think that I have wasted any of your substance?\nIf you have none of these things to allege against me, for heaven's sake\ndo not let us now make our lives unhappy, for my having had legitimate\nchildren by a lawful husband, at a time that you think it no crime to\nhave had a natural son by me, which I had the most reason to repent of.\"\nI spoke the latter part of these words with a small air of authority,\nthat he might think me the less guilty; but, I believe, he only looked\non what I had said as a piece of heroism; for he soon after delivered\nhimself in the following speech: \"Madam, do you not think that you have\nused me in a very deceitful manner? If you think that I have not had\nthat usage, I will, in a few words, prove the contrary. When first I\nknew you, soon after the jeweller's death at Paris, you never mentioned,\nin all that intricate affair I was engaged in for you, so much as your\nhaving any children; that, as your circumstances then were, could have\ndone you no harm, but, on the contrary, it would have moved the\ncompassion of your bitter enemy the Jew, if he had any. Afterwards, when\nI first saw you in London, and began to treat with you about marriage,\nyour children, which, to all prudent women, are the first things\nprovided for, were so far neglected as not to be spoken of, though mine\nwere mentioned to you; and as our fortunes were very considerable, yours\nmight very well have been put into the opposite scale with them. Another\ngreat piece of your injustice was when I offered to settle your own\nfortune upon yourself, you would not consent to it; I do not look on\nthat piece of condescension out of love to me, but a thorough hatred you\nhad to your own flesh and blood; and lastly, your not owning your\ndaughter, though she strongly hinted who she was to you when she was\ntwice in your company, and even followed you from place to place while\nyou were in England. Now, if you can reconcile this piece of inhumanity\nwith yourself, pray try what you can say to me about your never telling\nme the life you led in Pall Mall, in the character of Roxana? You\nscrupled to be happily married to me, and soon after came to England,\nand was a reputed whore to any nobleman that would come up to your\nprice, and lived with one a considerable time, and was taken by several\npeople to be his lawful wife. If any gentleman should ask me what I have\ntaken to my bed, what must I answer? I must say an inhuman false-hearted\nwhore, one that had not tenderness enough to own her own children, and\nhas too little virtue, in my mind, to make a good wife.\n\"I own I would,\" says he, \"have settled your own estate upon you with\ngreat satisfaction, but I will not do it now; you may retire to your\nchamber, and when I have any occasion to speak with you, I will send a\nmessenger to you; so, my undeserving lady countess, you may walk out of\nthe room.\"\nI was going to reply to all this, but instead of hearing me, he began to\nspeak against the Quaker, who, he supposed, knew all the intrigues of my\nlife; but I cleared her innocence, by solemnly declaring it was a\nthorough reformation of my past life that carried me to live at the\nQuaker's house, who knew nothing of me before I went to live with her,\nand that she was, I believed, a virtuous woman.\nI went away prodigiously chagrined. I knew not what course to take; I\nfound expostulation signified nothing, and all my hopes depended on what\nI might say to him after we were gone to bed at night. I sent in for\nAmy, and having told her our discourse, she said she knew not what to\nthink of him, but hoped it would, by great submission, wear off by\ndegrees. I could eat but little dinner, and Amy was more sorrowful than\nhungry, and after we had dined, we walked by ourselves in the garden,\nto know what we had best pursue. As we were walking about, Thomas came\nto us, and told us that the young woman who had caused all the words,\nhad been at the door, and delivered a letter to my lord's footman, who\nhad carried it upstairs, and that she was ordered to go to his lordship\nin his study, which struck me with a fresh and sensible grief. I told\nThomas, as he was to be her brother, to learn what my lord had said to\nher, if he could, as she came down; on which he went into the house to\nobey his order.\nHe was not gone in above a quarter of an hour before he came to me\nagain, and told me she was gone, and that my lord had given her a purse\nof twenty guineas, with orders to live retired, let nobody know who or\nwhat she was, and come to him again in about a month's time. I was very\nmuch satisfied to hear this, and was in hopes of its proving a happy\nomen; and I was better pleased about two hours after, when Thomas came\nto me to let me know that my lord had given him thirty guineas, and bid\nhim take off his livery, and new clothe himself, for he intended to make\nhim his first clerk, and put him in the way of making his fortune. I now\nthought it was impossible for me to be poor, and was inwardly rejoiced\nthat my children (meaning Thomas and Susanna) were in the high road to\ngrow rich.\nAs Amy and I had dined by ourselves, my lord kept his study all the day,\nand at night, after supper, Isabel came and told me that my lord's man\nhad received orders to make his bed in the crimson room, which name it\nreceived from the colour of the bed and furniture, and was reserved\nagainst the coming of strangers, or sickness. When she had delivered her\nmessage she withdrew, and I told Amy it would be to no purpose to go to\nhim again, but I would have her lie in a small bed, which I ordered\nimmediately to be carried into my chamber. Before we went to bed, I went\nto his lordship to know why he would make us both look so little among\nour own servants, as to part, bed and board, so suddenly. He only said,\n\"My Lady Roxana knows the airs of quality too well to be informed that a\nscandal among nobility does not consist in parting of beds; if you\ncannot lie by yourself, you may send a letter to my Lord ----, whom you\nlived with as a mistress in London; perhaps he may want a bedfellow as\nwell as you, and come to you at once; you are too well acquainted with\nhim to stand upon ceremony.\"\nI left him, with my heart full of malice, grief, shame, and revenge. I\ndid not want a good will to do any mischief; but I wanted an unlimited\npower to put all my wicked thoughts in execution.\nAmy and I lay in our chamber, and the next morning at breakfast we were\ntalking of what the servants (for there were thirteen of them in all,\nviz., two coachmen, four footmen, a groom, and postillion, two women\ncooks, two housemaids, and a laundry-maid, besides Isabel, who was my\nwaiting-maid, and Amy, who acted as housekeeper) could say of the\ndisturbance that was in the family. \"Pho!\" said Amy, \"never trouble your\nhead about that, for family quarrels are so common in noblemen's houses,\nboth here and in England, that there are more families parted, both in\nbed and board, than live lovingly together. It can be no surprise to the\nservants, and if your neighbours should hear it, they will only think\nyou are imitating the air of nobility, and have more of that blood in\nyou than you appeared to have when you and your lord lived happily\ntogether.\"\nThe time, I own, went very sluggishly on. I had no company but Amy and\nIsabel, and it was given out among the servants of noblemen and gentry\nthat I was very much indisposed, for I thought it a very improper time\neither to receive or pay visits.\nIn this manner I lived till the month was up that my daughter was to\ncome again to my lord, for although I went morning, noon, and night,\ninto his apartment to see him, I seldom had a quarter of an hour's\ndiscourse with him, and oftentimes one of his valets would be sent to\ntell me his lord was busy, a little before the time I usually went,\nwhich I found was to prevent my going in to him, but this was only when\nhe was in an ill humour, as his man called it.\nWhether my lord used to make himself uneasy for want of mine or other\ncompany, I cannot tell, but the servants complained every day, as I\nheard by Amy, that his lordship ate little or nothing, and would\nsometimes shed tears when he sat down by himself to breakfast, dinner,\nor supper; and, indeed, I began to think that he looked very thin, his\ncountenance grew pale, and that he had every other sign of a grieved or\nbroken heart.\nMy daughter came to him one Monday morning, and stayed with him in his\nstudy near two hours. I wondered at the reason of it, but could guess at\nnothing certain; and at last she went away, but I fixed myself so as to\nsee her as she passed by me, and she appeared to have a countenance full\nof satisfaction.\nIn the evening, when I went in as usual, he spoke to me in a freer style\nthan he had done since our breach. \"Well, madam\" (for he had not used\nthe words \"my lady\" at any time after my daughter's coming to our\nhouse), said he, \"I think I have provided for your daughter.\" \"As how,\nmy lord, pray will you let me know?\" said I. \"Yes,\" replied he, \"as I\nhave reason to think you will be sorry to hear of her welfare in any\nshape, I will tell you. A gentleman who is going factor for the Dutch\nEast India Company, on the coast of Malabar, I have recommended her to;\nand he, on my character and promise of a good fortune, will marry her\nvery soon, for the Company's ships sail in about twelve days; so, in a\nfortnight, like a great many mothers as there are nowadays, you may\nrejoice at having got rid of one of your children, though you neither\nknow where, how, or to whom.\"\nAlthough I was very glad my lord spoke to me at all, and more especially\nso at my daughter's going to be married, and settling in the Indies, yet\nhis words left so sharp a sting behind them as was exceeding troublesome\nto me to wear off. I did not dare venture to make any further inquiries,\nbut was very glad of what I heard, and soon bidding my lord goodnight,\nwent and found Amy, who was reading a play in the chamber.\nI waited with the greatest impatience for this marriage; and when I\nfound the day was fixed, I made bold to ask my lord if I should not be\npresent in his chamber when the ceremony was performed. This favor was\nalso denied me. I then asked my lord's chaplain to speak to him on that\nhead, but he was deaf to his importunities, and bade him tell me that I\nvery well knew his mind. The wedding was performed on a Wednesday\nevening, in my lord's presence, and he permitted nobody to be there but\na sister of the bridegroom's, and Thomas (now my lord's secretary or\nchief clerk), who was brother to the bride, and who gave her away. They\nall supped together after the ceremony was over in the great\ndining-room, where the fortune was paid, which was \u00a32000 (as I heard\nfrom Thomas afterwards), and the bonds for the performance of the\nmarriage were redelivered.\nNext morning my lord asked me if I was willing to see my daughter before\nshe sailed to the Indies. \"My lord,\" said I, \"as the seeing of her was\nthe occasion of this great breach that has happened between us, so if\nyour lordship will let me have a sight of her and a reconciliation with\nyou at the same time, there is nothing can be more desirable to me, or\nwould more contribute to my happiness during the rest of my life.\"\n\"No, madam,\" says he, \"I would have you see your daughter, to be\nreconciled to her, and give her your blessing (if a blessing can proceed\nfrom you) at parting; but our reconciliation will never be completed\ntill one of us comes near the verge of life, if then; for I am a man\nthat am never reconciled without ample amends, which is a thing that is\nnot in your power to give, without you can alter the course of nature\nand recall time.\"\nOn hearing him declare himself so open, I told him that my curse instead\nof my blessing would pursue my daughter for being the author of all the\nmischiefs that had happened between us. \"No, madam,\" said he, \"if you\nhad looked upon her as a daughter heretofore, I should have had no\noccasion to have had any breach with you. The whole fault lies at your\nown door; for whatever your griefs may inwardly be, I would have you\nrecollect they were of your own choosing.\"\nI found I was going to give way to a very violent passion, which would\nperhaps be the worse for me, so I left the room and went up to my own\nchamber, not without venting bitter reproaches both against my daughter\nand her unknown husband.\nHowever, the day she was to go on shipboard, she breakfasted with my\nlord, and as soon as it was over, and my lord was gone into his study to\nfetch something out, I followed him there, and asked him if he would\ngive me leave to present a gold repeating watch to my daughter before\nshe went away. I thought he seemed somewhat pleased with this piece of\ncondescension in me, though it was done more to gain his goodwill than\nto express any value I had for her. He told me that he did not know who\nI could better make such a present to, and I might give it to her if I\npleased. Accordingly I went and got it out of my cabinet in a moment,\nand bringing it to my lord, desired he would give it her from me. He\nasked me if I would not give it her myself. I told him no; I wished her\nvery well, but had nothing to say to her till I was restored to his\nlordship's bed and board.\nAbout two hours after all this, the coach was ordered to the door, and\nmy daughter and her new husband, the husband's sister, and my son\nThomas, all went into it, in order to go to the house of a rich uncle of\nthe bridegroom's, where they were to dine before they went on board, and\nmy lord went there in a sedan about an hour after. And having eaten\ntheir dinner, which on this occasion was the most elegant, they all went\non board the Indiaman, where my lord and my son Thomas stayed till the\nship's crew was hauling in their anchors to sail, and then came home\ntogether in the coach, and it being late in the evening, he told Thomas\nhe should sup with him that night, after which they went to bed in\ntheir several apartments.\nNext morning when I went to see my lord as usual, he told me that as he\nhad handsomely provided for my daughter, and sent her to the Indies with\na man of merit and fortune, he sincerely wished her great prosperity.\n\"And,\" he added, \"to let you see, madam, that I should never have parted\nfrom my first engagements of love to you, had you not laid yourself so\nopen to censure for your misconduct, my next care shall be to provide\nfor your son Thomas in a handsome manner, before I concern myself with\nmy son by you.\"\nThis was the subject of our discourse, with which I was very well\npleased. I only wished my daughter had been married and sent to the\nIndies before I had married myself; but I began to hope that the worst\nwould be over when Thomas was provided for too, and the son my lord had\nby me, who was now at the university, was at home; which I would have\nbrought to pass could my will be obeyed, but I was not to enjoy that\nhappiness.\nMy lord and I lived with a secret discontent of each other for near a\ntwelvemonth before I saw any provision made for my son Thomas, and then\nI found my lord bought him a very large plantation in Virginia, and was\nfurnishing him to go there in a handsome manner; he also gave him four\nquarter parts in four large trading West India vessels, in which he\nboarded a great quantity of merchandise to traffic with when he came to\nthe end of his journey, so that he was a very rich man before he (what\nwe call) came into the world.\nThe last article that was to be managed, was to engage my son to a wife\nbefore he left Holland; and it happened that the gentleman who was the\nseller of the plantation my husband bought, had been a Virginia planter\nin that colony a great many years; but his life growing on the decline,\nand his health very dubious, he had come to Holland with an intent to\nsell his plantation, and then had resolved to send for his wife, son,\nand daughter, to come to him with the return of the next ships. This\ngentleman had brought over with him the pictures of all his family,\nwhich he was showing to my lord at the same time he was paying for the\neffects; and on seeing the daughter's picture, which appeared to him\nvery beautiful, my lord inquired if she was married. \"No, my lord,\" says\nthe planter, \"but I believe I shall dispose of her soon after she comes\nto me.\" \"How old is your daughter?\" said my lord. \"Why, my lord,\"\nreplied the planter, \"she is twenty-two years of age.\" Then my lord\nasked my son if he should like that young lady for a wife. \"Nothing, my\nlord,\" said Thomas, \"could lay a greater obligation upon me than your\nlordship's providing me with a wife.\"\n\"Now, sir,\" said my lord to the planter, \"what do you say to a match\nbetween this young gentleman and your daughter? Their ages are\nagreeable, and if you can, or will, give her more fortune than he has,\nhis shall be augmented. You partly know his substance, by the money I\nhave now paid you.\"\nThis generous proposal of my lord's pleased the planter to a great\ndegree, and he declared to my lord that he thought nothing could be a\ngreater favour done him, for two reasons; one of which was, that he was\ncertain the young gentleman was as good as he appeared, because he had\ntaken for his plantation so large a sum of money as none but a gentleman\ncould pay. The next reason was, that this marriage, to be performed as\nsoon as my son arrived there, would be a great satisfaction to his wife,\nwhose favourite the daughter was. \"For,\" added he, \"my wife will not\nonly have the pleasure of seeing her daughter settled on what was our\nown hereditary estate, but also see her married to a man of substance,\nwithout the danger of crossing the seas to be matched to a person equal\nto herself.\"\n\"Pray, sir,\" said my lord, \"let me hear what fortune you are willing to\ngive with your daughter; you have but two children, and I know you must\nbe rich.\" \"Why, my lord,\" replied the planter, \"there is no denying\nthat; but you must remember I have a son as well as a daughter to\nprovide for, and he I intend to turn into the mercantile way as soon as\nhe arrives safe from Virginia. I have, my lord,\" continued he, \"a very\nlarge stock-in-trade there, as warehouses of tobacco, &c., lodged in the\ncustom-houses of the ports, to the value of \u00a37000, to which I will add\n\u00a33000 in money, and I hope you will look upon that as a very competent\nestate; and when the young gentleman's fortune is joined to that, I\nbelieve he will be the richest man in the whole American colonies of his\nage.\"\nIt was then considered between my lord and Thomas, that no woman with a\nquarter of that fortune would venture herself over to the West Indies\nwith a man that had ten times as much; so it being hinted to the planter\nthat my lord had agreed to the proposals, they promised to meet the next\nmorning to settle the affair.\nIn the evening, my lord, with Thomas in his company, hinted the above\ndiscourse to me. I was frightened almost out of my wits to think what a\nlarge sum of money had been laid out for my son, but kept what I thought\nto myself. It was agreed that my son was to marry the old planter's\ndaughter, and a lawyer was sent for, with instructions to draw up all\nthe writings for the marriage-settlement, &c., and the next morning a\nmessenger came from the planter with a note to my lord, letting him\nknow, if it was not inconvenient, he would wait on his lordship to\nbreakfast. He came soon after with a Dutch merchant of great estate, who\nwas our neighbour at The Hague, where they settled every point in\nquestion, and the articles were all drawn up and signed by the several\nparties the next day before dinner.\nThere was nothing now remaining but my son's departure to his new\nplantation in Virginia. Great despatch was made that he might be ready\nto sail in one of his own ships, and take the advantage of an English\nconvoy, which was almost ready to sail. My lord sent several valuable\npresents to my son's lady, as did her father; and as I was at liberty in\nthis case to do as I would, and knowing my lord had a very great value\nfor my son, I thought that the richer my presents were, the more he\nwould esteem me (but there was nothing in it, the enmity he took against\nme had taken root in his heart); so I sent her a curious set of china,\nthe very best I could buy, with a silver tea-kettle and lamp, tea-pot,\nsugar-dish, cream-pot, teaspoons, &c., and as my lord had sent a golden\nrepeater, I added to it a golden equipage, with my lord's picture\nhanging to it, finely painted; (This was another thing I did purposely\nto please him, but it would not do.) A few days after, he came to take\nhis leave of me, by my lord's order, and at my parting with him I shed\nabundance of tears, to think I was then in an almost strange place, no\nchild that could then come near me, and under so severe a displeasure of\nmy lord, that I had very little hopes of ever being friends with him\nagain.\nMy life did not mend after my son was gone; all I could do would not\npersuade my lord to have any free conversation with me. And at this\njuncture it was that the foolish jade Amy, who was now advanced in\nyears, was catched in a conversation with one of my lord's men, which\nwas not to her credit; for, it coming to his ears, she was turned out of\nthe house by my lord's orders, and was never suffered to come into it\nagain during his lifetime, and I did not dare to speak a word in her\nfavour for fear he should retort upon me, \"Like mistress, like maid.\"\nI could hear nothing of Amy for the first three months after she had\nleft me, till one day, as I was looking out of a dining-room window, I\nsaw her pass by, but I did not dare ask her to come in, for fear my lord\nshould hear of her being there, which would have been adding fuel to the\nfire; however, she, looking up at the house, saw me. I made a motion to\nher to stay a little about the door, and in the meantime I wrote a note,\nand dropped it out of the window, in which I told her how I had lived in\nher absence, and desired her to write me a letter, and carry it the next\nday to my sempstress's house, who would take care to deliver it to me\nherself.\nI told Isabel that she should let me know when the milliner came again,\nfor I had some complaints to her about getting up my best suit of\nBrussels lace nightclothes. On the Saturday following, just after I had\ndined, Isabel came into my apartment. \"My lady,\" says she, \"the milliner\nis in the parlour; will you be pleased to have her sent upstairs, or\nwill your ladyship be pleased to go down to her?\" \"Why, send her up,\nIsabel,\" said I, \"she is as able to come to me as I am to go to her; I\nwill see her here.\"\nWhen the milliner came into my chamber, I sent Isabel to my\ndressing-room to fetch a small parcel of fine linen which lay there, and\nin the interim she gave me Amy's letter, which I put into my pocket,\nand, having pretended to be angry about my linen, I gave her the small\nbundle Isabel brought, and bid her be sure to do them better for the\nfuture.\nShe promised me she would, and went about her business; and when she was\ngone, I opened Amy's letter, and having read it, found it was to the\nfollowing purpose, viz., that she had opened a coffee-house, and\nfurnished the upper part of it to let out in lodgings; that she kept two\nmaids and a man, but that the trade of it did not answer as she had\nreason to expect; she was willing to leave it off, and retire into the\ncountry to settle for the rest of her life, but was continually harassed\nby such disturbance in her conscience as made her unfit to resolve upon\nanything, and wished there was a possibility for her to see me, that she\nmight open her mind with the same freedom as formerly, and have my\nadvice upon some particular affairs; and such-like discourse.\nIt was a pretty while before I heard from Amy again, and when I did, the\nletter was in much the same strain as the former, excepting that things\nwere coming more to a crisis; for she told me in it that her money was\nso out, that is, lent as ready money to traders, and trusted for liquors\nin her house, that if she did not go away this quarter, she should be\nobliged to run away the next. I very much lamented her unfortunate case,\nbut that could be no assistance to her, as I had it not now in my power\nto see her when I would, or give her what I pleased, as it had always\nused to be; so all I could do was to wish her well, and leave her to\ntake care of herself.\nAbout this time it was that I perceived my lord began to look very pale\nand meagre, and I had a notion he was going into a consumption, but did\nnot dare tell him so, for fear he should say I was daily looking for his\ndeath, and was now overjoyed that I saw a shadow of it; nevertheless, he\nsoon after began to find himself in a very bad state of health, for he\nsaid to me one morning, that my care would not last long, for he\nbelieved he was seized by a distemper it was impossible for him to get\nover. \"My lord,\" said I, \"you do not do me justice in imagining anything\nconcerning me that does not tend to your own happiness, for if your body\nis out of order, my mind suffers for it.\" Indeed, had he died then,\nwithout making a will, it might have been well for me; but he was not so\nnear death as that; and, what was worse, the distemper, which proved a\nconsumption (which was occasioned chiefly by much study, watchings,\nmelancholy thoughts, wilful and obstinate neglect of taking care of his\nbody, and such like things), held him nine weeks and three days after\nthis, before it carried him off.\nHe now took country lodgings, most delightfully situated both for air\nand prospect, and had a maid and man to attend him. I begged on my knees\nto go with him, but could not get that favour granted; for, if I could,\nit might have been the means of restoring me to his favour, but our\nbreach was too wide to be thoroughly reconciled, though I used all the\nendearing ways I had ever had occasion for to creep into his favour.\nBefore he went out of town he locked and sealed up every room in the\nhouse, excepting my bedchamber, dressing-room, one parlour, and all the\noffices and rooms belonging to the servants; and, as he had now all my\nsubstance in his power, I was in a very poor state for a countess, and\nbegan to wish, with great sincerity, that I had never seen him, after I\nhad lived so happy a life as I did at the Quaker's. For notwithstanding\nour estates joined together, when we were first married, amounted to\n\u00a33376 per annum, and near \u00a318,000 ready money, besides jewels, plate,\ngoods, &c., of a considerable value, yet we had lived in a very high\nmanner since our taking the title of earl and countess upon us; setting\nup a great house, and had a number of servants; our equipage, such as\ncoach, chariot, horses, and their attendants; a handsome fortune my lord\nhad given to my daughter, and a very noble one to my son, whom he loved\nvery well, not for his being my son, but for the courteous behaviour of\nhim in never aspiring to anything above a valet after he knew who he\nwas, till my lord made him his secretary or clerk. Besides all these\nexpenses, my lord, having flung himself into the trade to the Indies,\nboth East and West, had sustained many great and uncommon losses,\noccasioned by his merchandise being mostly shipped in English bottoms;\nand that nation having declared war against the crown of Spain, he was\none of the first and greatest sufferers by that power; so that, on the\nwhole, our estate, which was as above, dwindled to about \u00a31000 per\nannum, and our home stock, viz., about \u00a317,000, was entirely gone. This,\nI believe, was another great mortification to his lordship, and one of\nthe main things that did help to hasten his end; for he was observed,\nboth by me and all his servants, to be more cast down at hearing of his\nlosses, that were almost daily sent to him, than he was at what had\nhappened between him and me.\nNothing could give more uneasiness than the damage our estate sustained\nby this traffic. He looked upon it as a mere misfortune that no person\ncould avoid; but I, besides that, thought it was a judgment upon me, to\npunish me in the loss of all my ill-got gain. But when I found that his\nown fortune began to dwindle as well as mine, I was almost ready to\nthink it was possible his lordship might have been as wicked a liver as\nI had, and the same vengeance as had been poured upon me for my repeated\ncrimes might also be a punishment for him.\nAs his lordship was in a bad state of health, and had removed to a\ncountry lodging, his study and counting-house, as well as his other\nrooms, were locked and sealed up; all business was laid aside, excepting\nsuch letters as came to him were carried to his lordship to be opened,\nread, and answered. I also went to see him morning and evening, but he\nwould not suffer me to stay with him a single night. I might have had\nanother room in the same house, but was not willing the people who kept\nit should know that there was a misunderstanding between us; so I\ncontented myself to be a constant visitor, but could not persuade him to\nforgive me the denying of my daughter, and acting the part of Roxana,\nbecause I had kept those two things an inviolable secret from him and\neverybody else but Amy, and it was carelessness in her conduct at last\nthat was the foundation of all my future misery.\nAs my lord's weakness increased, so his ill temper, rather than\ndiminish, increased also. I could do nothing to please him, and began to\nthink that he was only pettish because he found it was his turn to go\nout of the world first. A gentleman that lived near him, as well as his\nchaplain, persuaded him to have a physician, to know in what state his\nhealth was; and by all I could learn, the doctor told him to settle his\nworldly affairs as soon as he conveniently could. \"For,\" says he,\n\"although your death is not certain, still your life is very\nprecarious.\"\nThe first thing he did after this was to send for the son he had by me\nfrom the university. He came the week afterwards, and the tutor with\nhim, to take care of his pupil. The next day after my lord came home,\nand sending for six eminent men that lived at The Hague he made his\nwill, and signed it in the presence of them all; and they, with the\nchaplain, were appointed the executors of it, and guardians of my son.\nAs I was in a great concern at his making his will unknown to me, and\nbefore we were friends, I thought of it in too serious a manner not to\nspeak about it. I did not know where to apply first, but after mature\nconsideration sent for the chaplain, and he coming to me, I desired he\nwould give me the best intelligence he could about it. \"My lady,\" said\nhe, \"you cannot be so unacquainted with the duty of my function, and the\ntrust my lord has reposed in me, but you must know I shall go beyond my\ntrust in relating anything of that nature to you; all that I can say on\nthat head is, that I would have you make friends with my lord as soon as\nyou possibly can, and get him to make another will, or else take the\nbest care of yourself as lies in your power; for, I assure you, if his\nlordship dies, you are but poorly provided for.\"\nThese last words of the chaplain's most terribly alarmed me. I knew not\nwhat to do; and, at last, as if I was to be guided by nothing but the\nfuries, I went to his chamber, and after inquiring how he did, and\nhearing that he was far from well, I told him I had heard he had made\nhis will. \"Yes,\" said he, \"I have; and what then?\" \"Why, my lord,\"\nreplied I, \"I thought it would not have been derogatory to both our\nhonours for you to have mentioned it to me before you did it, and have\nlet me known in what manner you intended to settle your estate. This\nwould have been but acting like a man to his wife, even if you had\nmarried me without a fortune; but as you received so handsomely with me,\nyou ought to have considered it as my substance, as well as your own,\nthat you were going to dispose of.\"\nMy lord looked somewhat staggered at what I had said, and pausing a\nlittle while, answered, that he thought, and also looked upon it as a\ngranted opinion, that after a man married a woman, all that she was in\npossession of was his, excepting he had made a prior writing or\nsettlement to her of any part or all she was then possessed of.\n\"Besides, my lady,\" added he, \"I have married both your children, and\ngiven them very noble fortunes, especially your son. I have also had\ngreat losses in trade, both by sea and land, since you delivered your\nfortune to me, and even at this time, notwithstanding the appearance we\nmake in the world, I am not worth a third of what I was when we came to\nsettle in Holland; and then, here is our own son shall be provided for\nin a handsome manner by me; for I am thoroughly convinced there will be\nbut little care taken of him if I leave anything in your power for that\npurpose: witness Thomas and Susanna.\"\n\"My lord,\" said I, \"I am not come into your chamber to know what care\nyou have taken of our child. I do not doubt but you have acted like a\nfather by it. What I would be informed in is, what I am to depend upon\nin case of your decease; which I, however, hope may be a great many\nyears off yet.\" \"You need not concern yourself about that,\" said he;\n\"your son will take care that you shall not want; but yet, I will tell\nyou, too,\" said he, \"that it may prevent your wishing for my death. I\nhave, in my will, left all I am possessed of in the world to my son,\nexcepting \u00a31500; out of that there is \u00a3500 for you, \u00a3500 among my\nexecutors, and the other \u00a3500 is to bury me, pay my funeral expenses,\nand what is overplus I have ordered to be equally divided among my\nservants.\"\nWhen I had heard him pronounce these words, I stared like one that was\nfrightened out of his senses. \"Five hundred pounds for me!\" says I;\n\"pray, what do you mean? What! am I, that brought you so handsome a\nfortune, to be under the curb of my son, and ask him for every penny I\nwant? No, sir,\" said I, \"I will not accept it. I expect to be left in\nfull possession of one-half of your fortune, that I may live the\nremainder of my life like your wife.\" \"Madam,\" replied my lord, \"you may\nexpect what you please. If you can make it appear since I found you out\nto be a jilt that I have looked upon you as my wife, everything shall be\naltered and settled just as you desire, which might then be called your\nwill; but as the case now stands, the will is mine, and so it shall\nremain.\"\nI thought I should have sunk when I had heard him make this solemn and\npremeditated declaration. I raved like a mad woman, and, at the end of\nmy discourse, told him that I did not value what could happen to me,\neven if I was forced to beg my bread, for I would stand the test of my\nown character; and as I could get nothing by being an honest woman, so\nI should not scruple to declare that \"the son you have left what you\nhave to is a bastard you had by me several years before we were\nmarried.\"\n\"Oh,\" says he, \"madam, do you think you can frighten me? no, not in the\nleast; for if you ever mention anything of it, the title, as well as all\nthe estate, will go to another branch of my family, and you will then be\nleft to starve in good earnest, without having the least glimpse of hope\nto better your fortune; for,\" added he, \"it is not very probable that\nyou will be courted for a wife by any man of substance at these years;\nso if you have a mind to make yourself easy in your present\ncircumstances, you must rest contented with what I have left you, and\nnot prove yourself a whore to ruin your child, in whose power it will be\nto provide for you in a handsome manner, provided you behave yourself\nwith that respect to him and me as you ought to do; for if any words\narise about what I have done, I shall make a fresh will, and, as the\nlaws of this nation will give me liberty, cut you off with a shilling.\"\nMy own unhappiness, and his strong and lasting resentment, had kept me\nat high words, and flowing in tears, for some time; and as I was\nunwilling anybody should see me in that unhappy condition, I stayed\ncoolly talking to him, till our son, who had been to several gentlemen's\nhouses about my lord's business, came home to tell his father the\nsuccess he had met with abroad. He brought in with him bank-notes to\nthe amount of \u00a312,000, which he had received of some merchants he held a\ncorrespondence with; at which my lord was well pleased, for he was\npretty near out of money at this juncture. After our son had delivered\nthe accounts and bills, and had withdrawn, I asked my lord, in a calm\ntone, to give me the satisfaction of knowing in what manner the losses\nhe had complained to have suffered consisted. \"You must consider, my\nlord,\" said I, \"that according to what you have been pleased to inform\nme of, we are upwards of \u00a32000 per annum, besides about \u00a317,000 ready\nmoney, poorer than we were when we first came to settle in Holland.\"\n\"You talk,\" replied my lord, \"in a very odd manner. Do not you know that\nI had children of my own by a former wife? and of these I have taken so\nmuch care as to provide with very handsome fortunes, which are settled\nirrevocably upon them. I have, Providence be thanked, given each of them\n\u00a35000, and that is laid in East India stock, sufficient to keep them\ngenteelly, above the frowns of fortune, and free from the fear of want.\nThis, joined to the money I mentioned to you before, as losses at sea,\ndeaths, and bankruptcies, your children's fortunes, which are larger\nthan my own children's, the buying the estate we live on, and several\nother things, which my receipts and notes will account for, as you may\nsee after my decease. I have, to oblige you on this head, almost\ndescended to particulars, which I never thought to have done; but as I\nhave, rest yourself contented, and be well assured that I have not\nwilfully thrown any of your substance away.\"\nI could not tell what he meant by saying he had not wilfully thrown any\nof my substance away. These words puzzled me, for I found by his\ndiscourse I was to have but \u00a3500 of all I had brought him, at his\ndecease, which I looked upon to be near at hand. I had but one thing\nthat was any satisfaction to me, which was this: I was assured by him\nthat he had not bestowed above the \u00a315,000 he mentioned to me, on his\nchildren by his former wife; and, on an exact calculation, he made it\nappear that he had bestowed on my son Thomas alone near \u00a313,000 in\nbuying the plantation, shares in vessels, and merchandise, besides\nseveral valuable presents sent to his wife, both by him and me; and as\nfor my daughter Susanna, she was very well married to a factor, with a\nfortune of \u00a32000 (which was a great sum of money for a woman to have who\nwas immediately to go to the East Indies), besides some handsome\npresents given to her both by him and me. In fact, her fortune was, in\nproportion, as large as her brother's, for there is but very few women\nin England or Holland with \u00a32000 fortune that would venture to the coast\nof Malabar, even to have married an Indian king, much more to have gone\nover with a person that no one could tell what reception he might meet\nwith, or might be recalled at the pleasure of the Company upon the least\ndistaste taken by the merchants against him. Neither would I, though her\nown mother, hinder her voyage, for she had been the author of all the\nmisfortunes that happened to me; and if my speaking a word would have\nsaved her from the greatest torment, I believe I should have been quite\nsilent. And I had but one reason to allege for the girl's going so\nhazardous a voyage, which is, she knew that the match was proposed by my\nlord, and if he had not thought it would have been advantageous for her,\nhe would never have given \u00a32000 to her husband as a fortune; and again,\nas my lord was the only friend she had in our family, she was cunning\nenough to know that the bare disobliging of him would have been her ruin\nfor ever after; to which I may add, that it is possible, as she had made\nso much mischief about me, she was glad to get what she could and go out\nof the way, for fear my lord and I should be friends; which, if that had\nhappened, she would have been told never to come to our house any more.\nAs my lord's death began to be daily the discourse of the family, I\nthought that he might be more reconciled if I entered into the arguments\nagain, pro and con, which we had together before. I did so, but all I\ncould say was no satisfaction, till I importuned him on my knees, with a\nflood of tears. \"Madam,\" said he, \"what would you have me do?\" \"Do, my\nlord,\" said I, \"only be so tender to my years and circumstances as to\nalter your will, or, at least, add a codicil to it; I desire nothing\nmore, for I declare I had rather be a beggar, than live under my\nchild's jurisdiction.\" To this he agreed with some reluctance, and he\nadded a codicil to his will.\nThis pleased me greatly, and gave me comfort, for I dreaded nothing so\nmuch, after all my high living, as being under any person, relation or\nstranger, and whether they exercised any power over me or not.\nI saw the lawyer come out of the chamber first, but was above asking him\nany questions; the next were the executors and chaplain. I asked the\nlast how they came to have words. He did not answer me directly, but\nbegged to know whose pleasure it was to have the codicil annexed. \"It\nwas mine, sir,\" replied I; \"and it made me very uneasy before I could\nhave the favour granted.\" He only replied by saying, \"Ah! poor lady, the\nfavour, as you are pleased to term it, is not calculated for any benefit\nto you; think the worst you can of it.\"\nI was terribly uneasy at what the chaplain had said, but I imagined to\nmyself that I could not be worse off than I thought I should be before\nthe codicil was annexed; and as he withdrew without saying any more, I\nwas fain to rest satisfied with what I had heard, and that amounted to\nnothing.\nThe next day after this the physicians that attended my lord told him it\nwas time for him to settle his worldly affairs, and prepare himself for\na hereafter. I now found all was over, and I had no other hopes of his\nlife than the physicians' declaration of his being near his death. For\nit often happens that the gentlemen of the faculty give out that a man\nis near his death, to make the cure appear to be the effect of their\ngreat skill in distempers and medicine; as others, when they cannot find\nout the real disease, give out that a man's end is near, rather than\ndiscover their want of judgment; and this I thought might be the case\nwith our doctors of physic.\nOur son was still kept from the university, and lodged at the house of\none of his future guardians; but when he heard that his father was so\nnear his end, he was very little out of his presence, for he dearly\nloved him. My lord sent the day before his death to lock and seal up all\nthe doors in his dwelling house at The Hague; and the steward had\norders, in case of my lord's decease, not to let anybody come in, not\neven his lady (who had for some time lodged in the same house with her\nlord), without an order from the executors.\nThe keys of the doors were carried to him, and as he saw his death\napproach, he prepared for it, and, in fact, resigned up the keys of\neverything to the executors, and having bid them all a farewell, they\nwere dismissed. The physicians waited; but as the verge of life\napproached, and it was out of their power to do him any service, he gave\nthem a bill of \u00a3100 for the care they had taken of him, and dismissed\nthem.\nI now went into the chamber, and kneeling by his bedside, kissed him\nwith great earnestness, and begged of him, if ever I had disobliged him\nin any respect, to forgive me. He sighed, and said he most freely\nforgave me everything that I had reason to think I had offended him in;\nbut he added, \"If you had been so open in your conversation to me before\nour marriage as to discover your family and way of life, I know not but\nthat I should have married you as I did. I might now have been in a good\nstate of health, and you many years have lived with all the honours due\nto the Countess de Wintselsheim.\" These words drew tears from my eyes,\nand they being the last of any consequence he said, they had the greater\nimpression upon me. He faintly bid me a long farewell, and said, as he\nhad but a few moments to live, he hoped I would retire, and leave him\nwith our son and chaplain. I withdrew into my own chamber, almost\ndrowned in tears, and my son soon followed me out, leaving the chaplain\nwith his father, offering up his prayers to Heaven for the receiving of\nhis soul into the blessed mansions of eternal bliss.\nA few minutes after our son went into the chamber with me again, and\nreceived his father's last blessing. The chaplain now saw him departing,\nand was reading the prayer ordered by the Church for that occasion; and\nwhile he was doing it, my lord laid his head gently on the pillow, and\nturning on his left side, departed this life with all the calmness of a\ncomposed mind, without so much as a groan, in the fifty-seventh year of\nhis age.\nAs soon as he was dead an undertaker was sent for, by order of the\nexecutors, who met together immediately to open his will, and take care\nof all my son's effects. I was present when it was opened and read; but\nhow terribly I was frightened at hearing the codicil repeated any person\nmay imagine by the substance of it, which was to this effect; that if I\nhad given me any more after his decease than the \u00a3500 he had left me,\nthe \u00a3500 left to his executors, and the \u00a31000 of my son's estate (which\nwas now a year's interest), was to be given to such poor families at The\nHague as were judged to be in the greatest want of it; not to be divided\ninto equal sums, but every family to have according to their merit and\nnecessity. But this was not all. My son was tied down much harder; for\nif it was known that he gave me any relief, let my condition be ever so\nbad, either by himself, by his order, or in any manner of way, device,\nor contrivance that he could think of, one-half of his estate, which was\nparticularly mentioned, was to devolve to the executors for ever; and if\nthey granted me ever so small a favour, that sum was to be equally\ndivided among the several parishes where they lived, for the benefit of\nthe poor.\nAny person would have been surprised to have seen how we all sat staring\nat each other; for though it was signed by all the executors, yet they\ndid not know the substance of it till it was publicly read, excepting\nthe chaplain; and he, as I mentioned before, had told me the codicil had\nbetter never have been added.\nI was now in a fine dilemma; had the title of a countess, with \u00a3500, and\nnothing else to subsist on but a very good wardrobe of clothes, which\nwere not looked upon by my son and the executors to be my late lord's\nproperty, and which were worth, indeed, more than treble the sum I had\nleft me.\nI immediately removed from the lodgings, and left them to bury the body\nwhen they thought proper, and retired to a lodging at a private\ngentleman's house, about a mile from The Hague. I was now resolved to\nfind out Amy, being, as it were, at liberty; and accordingly went to the\nhouse where she had lived, and finding that empty, inquired for her\namong the neighbours, who gave various accounts of what had become of\nher; but one of them had a direction left at his house where she might\nbe found. I went to the place and found the house shut up, and all the\nwindows broken, the sign taken down, and the rails and benches pulled\nfrom before the door. I was quite ashamed to ask for her there, for it\nwas a very scandalous neighbourhood, and I concluded that Amy had been\nbrought to low circumstances, and had kept a house of ill-fame, and was\neither run away herself, or was forced to it by the officers of justice.\nHowever, as nobody knew me here, I went into a shop to buy some trifles,\nand asked who had lived in the opposite house (meaning Amy's). \"Really,\nmadam,\" says the woman, \"I do not well know; but it was a woman who kept\ngirls for gentlemen; she went on in that wickedness for some time, till\na gentleman was robbed there of his watch and a diamond ring, on which\nthe women were all taken up, and committed to the house of correction;\nbut the young ones are now at liberty, and keep about the town.\" \"Pray,\"\nsaid I, \"what may have become of the old beast that could be the ruin of\nthose young creatures?\" \"Why, I do not well know,\" says she; \"but I have\nheard that, as all her goods were seized upon, she was sent to the\npoorhouse; but it soon after appearing that she had the French disease\nto a violent degree, was removed to a hospital to be taken care of, but\nI believe she will never live to come out; and if she should be so\nfortunate, the gentleman that was robbed, finding that she was the\nguilty person, intends to prosecute her to the utmost rigour of the\nlaw.\"\nI was sadly surprised to hear this character of Amy; for I thought\nwhatever house she might keep, that the heyday of her blood had been\nover. But I found that she had not been willing to be taken for an old\nwoman, though near sixty years of age; and my not seeing or hearing from\nher for some time past was a confirmation of what had been told me.\nI went home sadly dejected, considering how I might hear of her. I had\nknown her for a faithful servant to me, in all my bad and good fortune,\nand was sorry that at the last such a miserable end should overtake her,\nthough she, as well as I, deserved it several years before.\nA few days after I went pretty near the place I had heard she was, and\nhired a poor woman to go and inquire how Amy ---- did, and whether she\nwas likely to do well. The woman returned, and told me that the matron,\nor mistress, said, the person I inquired after died in a salivation two\ndays before, and was buried the last night in the cemetery belonging to\nthe hospital.\nI was very sorry to hear of Amy's unhappy and miserable death; for when\nshe came first into my service she was really a sober girl, very witty\nand brisk, but never impudent, and her notions in general were good,\ntill my forcing her, as it were, to have an intrigue with the jeweller.\nShe had also lived with me between thirty and forty years, in the\nseveral stages of life as I had passed through; and as I had done\nnothing but what she was privy to, so she was the best person in the\nuniversal world to consult with and take advice from, as my\ncircumstances now were.\nI returned to my lodgings much chagrined, and very disconsolate; for as\nI had for several years lived at the pinnacle of splendour and\nsatisfaction, it was a prodigious heart-break to me now to fall from\nupwards of \u00a33000 per annum to a poor \u00a3500 principal.\nA few days after this I went to see my son, the Earl of Wintselsheim. He\nreceived me in a very courteous (though far from a dutiful) manner. We\ntalked together near an hour upon general things, but had no particular\ndiscourse about my late lord's effects, as I wanted to have. Among\nother things he told me that his guardians had advised him to go to the\nuniversity for four years longer, when he would come of age, and his\nestate would be somewhat repaired; to which he said he had agreed; and\nfor that purpose all the household goods and equipages were to be\ndisposed of the next week, and the servants dismissed. I immediately\nasked if it would be looked upon as an encroachment upon his father's\nwill if I took Isabel (who had been my waiting-maid ever since I came\nfrom England) to live with me. \"No, my lady,\" very readily replied he;\n\"as she will be dismissed from me, she is certainly at liberty and full\nfreedom to do for herself as soon and in the best manner she possibly\ncan.\" After this I stayed about a quarter of an hour with him, and then\nI sent for Isabel, to know if she would come and live with me on her\ndismission from her lord's. The girl readily consented, for I had always\nbeen a good mistress to her; and then I went to my own lodgings in my\nson's coach, which he had ordered to be got ready to carry me home.\nIsabel came, according to appointment, about ten days after, and told me\nthe house was quite cleared both of men and movables, but said her lord\n(meaning my son) was not gone to the university as yet, but was at one\nof his guardians' houses, where he would stay about a month, and that he\nintended to make a visit before his departure, which he did, attended by\nmy late chaplain; and I, being in handsome lodgings, received them with\nall the complaisance and love as was possible, telling them that time\nand circumstances having greatly varied with me, whatever they saw amiss\nI hoped they would be so good as to look over it at that time, by\nconsidering the unhappy situation of my affairs.\nAfter this visit was over, and I had myself and Isabel to provide for,\nhandsome lodgings to keep (which were as expensive as they were fine),\nand nothing but my principal money to live on (I mean what I happened to\nhave in my pocket at my lord's death, for I had not been paid my \u00a3500 as\nyet), I could not manage for a genteel maintenance as I had done some\nyears before. I thought of divers things to lay my small sums out to\nadvantage, but could fix on nothing; for it always happens that when\npeople have but a trifle, they are very dubious in the disposal of it.\nHaving been long resolving in my mind, I at last fixed on merchandise as\nthe most genteel and profitable of anything else. Accordingly I went to\na merchant who was intimate with my late lord, and letting him know how\nmy circumstances were, he heartily condoled with me, and told me he\ncould help me to a share in two ships--one was going a trading voyage to\nthe coast of Africa, and the other a-privateering. I was now in a\ndilemma, and was willing to have a share in the trader, but was dubious\nof being concerned in the privateer; for I had heard strange stories\ntold of the gentlemen concerned in that way of business. Nay, I had\nbeen told, but with what certainty I cannot aver, that there was a set\nof men who took upon them to issue ships, and as they always knew to\nwhat port they are bound, notice was sent to their correspondent abroad\nto order out their privateers on the coast the other sailed, and they\nknowing the loading, and the numbers of hands and guns were on board,\nsoon made prizes of the vessels, and the profits were equally divided,\nafter paying what was paid for their insurance, among them all.\nHowever, I at last resolved, by the merchant's advice, to have a share\nin the trader, and the next day he over-persuaded me to have a share in\nthe privateer also. But that I may not lay out my money before I have\nit, it may not be amiss to observe that I went to the executors and\nreceived my \u00a3500 at an hour's notice, and then went to the merchant's to\nknow what the shares would come to, and being told \u00a31500, I was resolved\nto raise the money; so I went home, and, with my maid Isabel, in two\ndays' time disposed of as many of my clothes as fetched me near \u00a31100,\nwhich, joined to the above sum, I carried to the merchant's, where the\nwritings were drawn, signed, sealed, and delivered to me in the presence\nof two witnesses, who went with me for that purpose. The ships were near\nready for sailing; the trader was so well manned and armed, as well as\nthe privateer, that the partners would not consent to insure them, and\nout they both sailed, though from different ports, and I depended on\ngetting a good estate between them.\nWhen I was about this last ship a letter came from the count, my son,\nfull of tender expressions of his duty to me, in which I was informed\nthat he was going again to the university at Paris, where he should\nremain four years; after that he intended to make the tour of Europe,\nand then come and settle at The Hague. I returned him thanks in a letter\nfor his compliment, wished him all happiness, and a safe return to\nHolland, and desired that he would write to me from time to time that I\nmight hear of his welfare, which was all I could now expect of him. But\nthis was the last time I heard from him, or he from me.\nIn about a month's time the news came that the privateer (which sailed\nunder British colours, and was divided into eight shares) had taken a\nship, and was bringing it into the Texel, but that it accidentally\nfoundered, and being chained to the privateer, had, in sinking, like to\nhave lost that too. Two or three of the hands got on shore, and came to\nThe Hague; but how terribly I was alarmed any one may judge, when I\nheard the ship the privateer had was the Newfoundland merchantman, as I\nhad bought two shares in out of four. About two months after news was\ncurrent about The Hague of a privateer or merchantman, one of them of\nthe town, though not known which, having an engagement in the\nMediterranean, in which action both the privateer and trader was lost.\nSoon after their names were publicly known, and, in the end, my partners\nheard that they were our ships, and unhappily sailing under false\ncolours (a thing often practised in the time of war), and never having\nseen each other, had, at meeting, a very smart engagement, each fighting\nfor life and honour, till two unfortunate shots; one of them, viz., the\nprivateer, was sunk by a shot between wind and water, and the trader\nunhappily blown up by a ball falling in the powder-room. There were only\ntwo hands of the trader, and three of the privateer, that escaped, and\nthey all fortunately met at one of the partners' houses, where they\nconfirmed the truth of this melancholy story, and to me a fatal loss.\nWhat was to be done now? I had no money, and but few clothes left;\nthere, was no hope of subsistence from my son or his guardians; they\nwere tied down to be spectators of my misfortunes, without affording me\nany redress, even if they would.\nIsabel, though I was now reduced to the last penny, would live with me\nstill, and, as I observed before and may now repeat, I was in a pretty\nsituation to begin the world--upwards of sixty years of age, friendless,\nscanty of clothes, and but very little money.\nI proposed to Isabel to remove from lodgings and retire to Amsterdam,\nwhere I was not known, and might turn myself into some little way of\nbusiness, and work for that bread now which had been too often\nsquandered away upon very trifles. And upon consideration I found myself\nin a worse condition than I thought, for I had nothing to recommend me\nto Heaven, either in works or thoughts; had even banished from my mind\nall the cardinal and moral virtues, and had much more reason to hide\nmyself from the sight of God, if possible, than I had to leave The\nHague, that I might not be known of my fellow-creatures. And farther to\nhasten our removing to Amsterdam, I recollected I was involved in debt\nfor money to purchase a share in the Newfoundland trader, which was\nlost, and my creditors daily threatened me with an arrest to make me pay\nthem.\nI soon discharged my lodgings and went with Isabel to Amsterdam, where I\nthought, as I was advanced in years, to give up all I could raise in the\nworld, and on the sale of everything I had to go into one of the\nProveniers' houses, where I should be settled for life. But as I could\nnot produce enough money for it, I turned it into a coffee-house near\nthe Stadt-house, where I might have done well; but as soon as I was\nsettled one of my Hague creditors arrested me for a debt of \u00a375, and I\nnot having a friend in the world of whom to raise the money, was, in a\nshameful condition, carried to the common jail, where poor Isabel\nfollowed me with showers of tears, and left me inconsolable for my great\nmisfortunes. Here, without some very unforeseen accident, I shall never\ngo out of it until I am carried to my grave, for which my much-offended\nGod prepare me as soon as possible.\n_The continuation of the Life of Roxana, by Isabel Johnson, who had\nbeen her waiting-maid, from the time she was thrown into jail to\nthe time of her death._\nAfter my lady, as it was my duty to call her, was thrown into jail for a\ndebt she was unable to pay, she gave her mind wholly up to devotion.\nWhether it was from a thorough sense of her wretched state, or any other\nreason, I could never learn; but this I may say, that she was a sincere\npenitent, and in every action had all the behaviour of a Christian. By\ndegrees all the things she had in the world were sold, and she began to\nfind an inward decay upon her spirits. In this interval she repeated all\nthe passages of her ill-spent life to me, and thoroughly repented of\nevery bad action, especially the little value she had for her children,\nwhich were honestly born and bred. And having, as she believed, made her\npeace with God, she died with mere grief on the 2nd of July 1742, in the\nsixty-fifth year of her age, and was decently buried by me in the\nchurchyard belonging to the Lutherans, in the city of Amsterdam.\nTHE END.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Fortunate Mistress (Parts 1 and 2)\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "E-text prepared by Steven Gibbs, Richard J. Shiffer, and the Project\nTranscriber's note:\n   Every effort has been made to replicate this text as\n   faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant\n   spellings and other inconsistencies. Text that has been\n   changed to correct an obvious error is noted at the end\n   of this e-book.\n   The British Library shows second edition published 1729\n   and reprinted by D. A. Talboys, Oxford, 1841.\nAUGUSTA TRIUMPHANS:\nOR, THE\nWAY\nTO MAKE\nLONDON\nTHE MOST FLOURISHING\nCITY IN THE UNIVERSE.\nFIRST,\nBy establishing an University where Gentlemen may have Academical\nEducation under the Eye of their Friends.\nII. By an Hospital for Foundlings.\nIII. By forming an Academy of Sciences at Christ's Hospital.\nIV. By suppressing pretended Madhouses, where many of the Fair Sex are\nunjustly confined, while their Husbands keep Mistresses, &c., and many\nWidows are locked up for the sake of their Jointure.\nV. To save our Youth from Destruction, by clearing the Streets of\nimpudent Strumpets, suppressing Gaming Tables, and Sunday Debauches.\nVI. To save our lower Class of People from utter Ruin, and render them\nuseful, by preventing the immoderate use of Geneva: with a frank\nExplosion of many other common Abuses, and incontestible Rules for\nAmendment.\nCONCLUDING WITH\nAn effectual Method to prevent _Street Robberies_.\nAND\nA Letter to Coll. Robinson, on account of the Orphans' Tax.\nBy ANDREW MORETON, Esq.\nTHE SECOND EDITION.\n_LONDON_:\nPrinted for J. ROBERTS, in _Warwick Lane_, and sold by E. NUTT, at the\n_Royal Exchange_; A. DODD, without _Temple Bar_; N. BLANDFORD, at\n_Charing Cross_; and J. STAGG, in _Westminster-Hall_.\n [_Price One Shilling._]\nAUGUSTA TRIUMPHANS:\nOR, THE\nWAY\nTO MAKE\nLONDON\nTHE MOST FLOURISHING\nCITY IN THE UNIVERSE.\nA man who has the public good in view, ought not in the least to be\nalarmed at the tribute of ridicule which scoffers constantly pay to\nprojecting heads. It is the business of a writer, who means well, to go\ndirectly forward, without regard to criticism, but to offer his thoughts\nas they occur; and if in twenty schemes he hits but on one to the\npurpose, he ought to be excused failing in the nineteen for the\ntwentieth sake. It is a kind of good action to mean well, and the\nintention ought to palliate the failure; but the English, of all people\nin the world, show least mercy to schemists, for they treat them in the\nvilest manner; whereas other nations give them fair play for their\nlives, which is the reason why we are esteemed so bad at invention.\nI have but a short time to live, nor would I waste my remaining thread\nof life in vain, but having often lamented sundry public abuses, and\nmany schemes having occurred to my fancy, which to me carried an air of\nbenefit, I was resolved to commit them to paper before my departure, and\nleave, at least, a testimony of my good will to my fellow-creatures.\nBut of all my reflections, none was more constantly my companion than a\ndeep sorrow for the present decay of learning among us, and the manifest\ncorruption of education; we have been a brave and learned people, and\nare insensibly dwindling into an effeminate, superficial race. Our young\ngentlemen are sent to the universities, it is true, but not under\nrestraint or correction as formerly; not to study, but to drink; not for\nfurniture for the head, but a feather for the cap, merely to say they\nhave been at Oxford or Cambridge, as if the air of those places inspired\nknowledge without application. It is true we ought to have those places\nin reverence for the many learned men they have sent us; but why must we\ngo so far for knowledge? Why should a young gentleman be sent raw from\nthe nursery to live on his own hands, to be liable to a thousand\ntemptations, and run the risk of being snapped up by sharping jilts,\nwith which both universities abound, who make our youth of fortune their\nprey, and have brought misery into too many good families? Not only the\nhazard of their healths from debauches of both kinds, but the waste of\ntheir precious time renders the sending them so far off very hazardous.\nWhy should such a metropolis as London be without an university? Would\nit not save considerably the expense we are at in sending our young\ngentlemen so far from London? Would it not add to the lustre of our\nstate, and cultivate politeness among us? What benefits may we not in\ntime expect from so glorious a design? Will not London become the scene\nof science? And what reason have we but to hope we may vie with any\nneighbouring nations? Not that I would have Oxford or Cambridge\nneglected, for the good they have done. Besides, there are too many fine\nendowments to be sunk; we may have universities at those places and at\nLondon too, without prejudice. Knowledge will never hurt us, and whoever\nlives to see an university here, will find it give quite another turn to\nthe genius and spirit of our youth in general.\nHow many gentlemen pass their lives in a shameful indolence, who might\nemploy themselves to the purpose, were such a design set on foot?\nLearning would flourish, art revive, and not only those who studied\nwould benefit by it, but the blessing would be conveyed to others by\nconversation.\nAnd in order to this so laudable design, small expense is required; the\nsole charge being the hire of a convenient hall or house, which, if they\nplease, they may call a college. But I see no necessity the pupils have\nto lie or diet there; that may be done more reasonably and conveniently\nat home, under the eye of their friends; their only necessary business\nat college being to attend their tutors at stated hours; and, bed and\nboard excepted, to conform themselves to college laws, and perform the\nsame exercises as if they were actually at Oxford or Cambridge.\nLet the best of tutors be provided, and professors in all faculties\nencouraged; this will do a double good, not only to the instructed, but\nto the instructors. What a fine provision may here be made for numbers\nof ingenious gentlemen now unpreferred? And to what a height may even a\nsmall beginning grow in time?\nAs London is so extensive, so its university may be composed of many\ncolleges, quartered at convenient distances: for example, one at\nWestminster, one at St. James's, one near Ormond-street, that part of\nthe town abounding in gentry; one in the centre of the Inns of Court,\nanother near the Royal Exchange, and more if occasion and encouragement\npermit.\nThe same offices and regulations may be constituted, cooks, butlers,\nbed-makers, &c., excepted, as at other universities. As for endowment,\nthere is no need, the whole may be done by subscription, and that an\neasy one, considering that nothing but instructions are paid for.\nIn a word, an academical education is so much wanted in London, that\neverybody of ability and figure will readily come into it; and I dare\nengage, the place need but be chosen, and tutors approved of, to\ncomplete the design at once.\nIt may be objected, that there is a kind of university at Gresham\ncollege, where professors in all sciences are maintained, and obliged to\nread lectures every day, or at least as often as demanded. The design is\nmost laudable, but it smells too much of the _sine cure_; they only read\nin term time, and then their lectures are so hurried over, the audience\nis little the better. They cannot be turned out, it is a good settlement\nfor life, and they are very easy in their studies when once fixed.\nWhereas were the professorship during good behaviour, there would be a\nstudy to maintain their posts, and their pupils would reap the benefit.\nUpon second thought, I think colleges for university education might be\nformed at Westminster, Eton, the Charter-house, St. Paul's, Merchant\nTailors, and other public schools, where youth might begin and end their\nstudies; but this may be further considered of.\nI had almost forgot the most material point, which is, that his\nmajesty's sanction must first be obtained, and the university proposed\nhave power to confer degrees, &c., and other academical privileges.\nAs I am quick to conceive, I am eager to have done, unwilling to\noverwork a subject; I had rather leave part to the conception of the\nreaders, than to tire them or myself with protracting a theme, as if,\nlike a chancery man or a hackney author, I wrote by the sheet for hire.\nSo let us have done with this topic, and proceed to another, which is:--\n_A proposal to prevent murder, dishonour, and other abuses, by erecting\nan hospital for foundlings._\nIt is needless to run into a declamation on this head, since not a\nsessions passes but we see one or more merciless mothers tried for the\nmurder of their bastard children; and, to the shame of good government,\ngenerally escape the vengeance due to shedders of innocent blood. For it\nis a common practice now among them to hire a set of old beldams, or\npretended midwives, who make it their trade to bring them off for three\nor four guineas, having got the ready rote of swearing the child was not\nat its full growth, for which they have a hidden reserve; that is to\nsay, the child was not at man's or woman's growth. Thus do these impious\nwretches cheat the world, and damn their own souls by a double meaning,\nwhich too often imposes on a cautious, merciful, and credulous jury, and\ngives wicked murderers means to escape and commit fresh sins, to which\ntheir acquitters, no doubt, are accessory.\nI wonder so many men of sense as have been on the jury have been so\noften imposed upon by the stale pretence of a scrap or two of child-bed\nlinen being found in the murderer's box, &c.; when, alas! perhaps, it\nwas never put there till after the murder was committed; or if it was,\nbut with a view of saving themselves by that devilish precaution; for so\nmany have been acquitted on that pretence, that it is but too common a\nthing to provide child-bed linen beforehand for a poor innocent babe\nthey are determined to murder.\nBut, alas! what are the exploded murders to those which escape the eye\nof the magistrate, and die in silence? Add to this, procured abortions\nand other indirect means which wicked wretches make use of to screen\nthemselves from the censure of the world, which they dread more than the\ndispleasure of their Maker.\nThose who cannot be so hardhearted to murder their own offspring\nthemselves, take a slower, though as sure, a way, and get it done by\nothers, by dropping their children, and leaving them to be starved by\nparish nurses.\nThus is God robbed of a creature, in whom he had breathed the breath of\nlife, and on whom he had stamped his image; the world of an inhabitant,\nwho might have been of use; the king of a subject; and future\ngenerations of an issue not to be accounted for, had this infant lived\nto have been a parent.\nIt is therefore the height of charity and humanity to provide against\nthis barbarity, to prevent this crying sin, and extract good, even out\nof evil, by saving these innocent babes from slaughter, and bringing\nthem up in the nurture and fear of the Lord; to be of benefit to\nthemselves and mankind in general.\nAnd what nearer, what better way can we have, than to erect and to endow\na proper hospital or house to receive them, where we may see them\ntenderly brought up, as so many living monuments of our charity; every\none of them being a convincing proof of a Christian saved, and a murder\nprevented?\nNor will this be attended with so much charge as is imagined, for we\nfind in many parishes, that parents have redemanded their children, on\nincrease of circumstances, and paid all costs, with a handsome present\nin the bargain; and many times when a clandestine marriage is cleared up\nand openly avowed, they would purchase the first-fruits of their loves\nat any rate. Oftentimes a couple may have no more children, and an\ninfant thus saved may arrive to inherit a good estate, and become a\nbenefactor where it was once an object of charity.\nBut let us suppose the worst, and imagine the infant begot in sin and\nwithout the sanction of wedlock; is it therefore to be murdered,\nstarved, or neglected, because its parents were wicked? Hard fate of\ninnocent children to suffer for their parents' faults! Where God has\nthought fit to give his image and life, there is nourishment demanded;\nthat calls aloud for our Christian and human assistance, and best shows\nour nobleness of soul, when we generously assist those who cannot help\nthemselves.\nIf the fault devolved on the children, our church would deny them\nbaptism, burial, and other Christian rites; but our religion carries\nmore charity with it, they are not denied even to partake of our blessed\nsacraments, and are excluded no one branch or benefit accruing from\nChristianity; if so, how unjust are those who arraign them for their\nparents' faults, and how barbarous are those parents, who, though able,\nmake no provision for them, because they are not legitimate. My child,\nis my child, let it be begot in sin or wedlock, and all the duties of a\nparent are incumbent on me so long as it lives; if it survives me, I\nought to make a provision for it, according to my ability; and though I\ndo not set it on a footing with my legitimate children, I ought in\nconscience to provide against want and shame, or I am answerable for\nevery sin or extravagance my child is forced or led into, for want of my\ngiving an allowance to prevent it.\nWe have an instance very fresh in every one's memory, of an ingenious,\nnay a sober young nobleman, for such I must call him, whose either\nfather was a peer, and his mother a peeress. This unhappy gentleman,\ntossed from father to father, at last found none, and himself a vagabond\nforced to every shift; he in a manner starved for many years, yet was\nguilty of no capital crime, till that unhappy accident occurred, which\nGod has given him grace and sense enough to repent. However, I cannot\nbut think his hard-hearted mother will bear her portion of the guilt,\ntill washed away by a severe repentance.\nWhat a figure might this man have made in life, had due care been taken?\nIf his peerage had not been adjusted, he might at least have been a fine\ngentleman; nay, probably have filled some handsome post in the\ngovernment with applause, and called as much for respect as he does now\nfor pity.\nNor is this gentleman the only person begot and neglected by noble, or\nrather ignoble parents; we have but too many now living, who owe their\nbirth to the best of our peerage, and yet know not where to eat. Hard\nfate, when the child would be glad of the scraps which the servants\nthrow away! But Heaven generally rewards them accordingly, for many\nnoble families are become extinct, and large estates alienated into\nother houses, while their own issue want bread.\nAnd now, methinks, I hear some over-squeamish ladies cry, What would\nthis fellow be at? would not he set up a nursery for lewdness, and\nencourage fornication? who would be afraid of sinning, if they can so\neasily get rid of their bastards? we shall soon be overrun with\nfoundlings when there is such encouragement given to whoredom. To which\nI answer, that I am as much against bastards being begot, as I am for\ntheir being murdered; but when a child is once begot, it cannot be\nunbegotten; and when once born, it must be kept; the fault, as I said\nbefore, is in the parents, not the child; and we ought to show our\ncharity towards it as a fellow-creature and Christian, without any\nregard to its legitimacy or otherwise.\nThe only way to put a stop to this growing evil, would be to oblige all\nhousekeepers not to admit a man and woman as lodgers till they were\ncertified of their being lawfully married; for now-a-days nothing is\nmore common than for a whoremonger and a strumpet to pretend marriage,\ntill they have left a child or two on the parish, and then shift to\nanother part of the town.\nIf there were no receivers, there would be no thieves; if there were no\nbawdyhouses, there would be no whores; and though persons letting\nlodgings be not actual procurers, yet, if they connive at the embraces\nof a couple, whose marriage is doubtful, they are no better than bawds,\nand their houses no more than brothels.\nNow should anybody ask how shall this hospital be built? how endowed? to\nwhich I answer, follow the steps of the Venetians, the Hamburghers, and\nother foreign states, &c., who have for ages past prosecuted this\nglorious design, and found their account therein. As for building a\nhouse, I am utterly against it, especially in the infancy of the affair:\nlet a place convenient be hired. Why should such a considerable sum be\nsunk in building as has in late public structures, which have swallowed\nup part of the profits and dividend, if not the capital, of unwary\nstockmongers?\nTo my great joy I find my project already anticipated, and a noble\nsubscription carrying on for this purpose; to promote which I exhort all\npersons of compassion and generosity, and I shall think myself happy, if\nwhat I have said on this head may anyways contribute to further the\nsame.\nHaving said all I think material on this subject, I beg pardon for\nleaving my reader so abruptly, and crave leave to proceed to another\narticle, viz.:--\n_A proposal to prevent the expensive importation of foreign musicians,\n&c., by forming an academy of our own._\nIt will no doubt be asked what have I to do with music? to which I\nanswer, I have been a lover of the science from my infancy, and in my\nyounger days was accounted no despicable performer on the viol and lute,\nthen much in vogue. I esteem it the most innocent amusement in life; it\ngenerally relaxes, after too great a hurry of spirits, and composes the\nmind into a sedateness prone to everything that is generous and good;\nand when the more necessary parts of education are finished, it is a\nmost genteel and commendable accomplishment; it saves a great deal of\ndrinking and debauchery in our sex, and helps the ladies off with many\nan idle hour, which sometimes might probably be worse employed\notherwise.\nOur quality, gentry, and better sort of traders must have diversions;\nand if those that are commendable be denied, they will take to worse;\nnow what can be more commendable than music, one of the seven liberal\nsciences, and no mean branch of the mathematics?\nWere it for no other reason I should esteem it, because it was the\nfavourite diversion of his late majesty, of glorious memory; who was as\nwise a prince as ever filled the British throne. Nor is it less esteemed\nby their present majesties, whose souls are formed for harmony, and who\nhave not disdained to make it a part in the education of their sacred\nrace.\nOur nobility and gentry have shown their love to the science, by\nsupporting at such prodigious expense the Italian opera, improperly\ncalled an academy; but they have at the same time shown no small\npartiality in discouraging anything English, and overloading the town\nwith such heaps of foreign musicians.\nAn academy, rightly understood, is a place for the propagation of\nscience, by training up persons thereto from younger to riper years,\nunder the instruction and inspection of proper artists; how can the\nItalian opera properly be called an academy, when none are admitted but\nsuch as are, at least are thought, or ought to be, adepts in music? If\nthat be an academy, so are the theatres of Drury-lane, and Lincolns-inn\nFields; nay, Punch's opera may pass for a lower kind of academy. Would\nit not be a glorious thing to have an opera of our own, in our own most\nnoble tongue, in which the composer, singers, and orchestra, should be\nof our own growth? Not that we ought to disclaim all obligations to\nItaly, the mother of music, the nurse of Corelli, Handel, Bononcini,\nGeminiani; but then we ought not to be so stupidly partial to imagine\nourselves too brutal a part of mankind to make any progress in the\nscience? By the same reason that we love it, we may excel in it; love\nbegets application, and application perfection. We have already had a\nPurcel, and no doubt there are now many latent geniuses, who only want\nproper instruction, application, and encouragement, to become great\nornaments of the science, and make England emulate even Rome itself.\nWhat a number of excellent performers on all instruments have sprung up\nin England within these few years? That this is owing to the opera I\nwill not deny, and so far the opera is an academy, as it refines the\ntaste and inspires emulation.\nBut though we are happy in instrumental performers, we frequently send\nto Italy for singers, and that at no small expense; to remedy which I\nhumbly propose that the governors of Christ's Hospital will show their\npublic spirit, by forming an academy of music on their foundation, after\nthis or the like manner.\nThat out of their great number of children, thirty boys be selected of\ngood ears and propensity to music.\nThat these boys be divided into three classes, viz., six for wind\ninstruments, such as the hautboy, bassoon, and German flute.\nThat sixteen others be selected for string instruments, or at least the\nmost useful, viz., the violin and bass-violin.\nThat the remaining eight be particularly chosen for voice, and organ, or\nharpsichord. That all in due time be taught composition. The boys thus\nchosen, three masters should be elected, each most excellent in his way;\nthat is to say, one for the wind instrument, another for the stringed,\nand a third for the voice and organ, &c.\nHandsome salaries should be allowed these masters, to engage their\nconstant attendance every day from eight till twelve in the morning; and\nI think 100_l._ per annum for each would be sufficient, which will be a\ntrifle to so wealthy a body. The multiplicity of holidays should be\nabridged, and only a few kept; there cannot be too few, considering what\na hinderance they are to juvenile studies. It is a vulgar error that has\ntoo long prevailed all over England to the great detriment of learning,\nand many boys have been made blockheads in complaisance to kings and\nsaints dead for many ages past.\nThe morning employed in music, the boys should go in the afternoon, or\nso many hours, to the reading and writing school, and in the evening\nshould practice, at least two hours before bed-time, and two before the\nmaster comes in the morning. This course held for seven or eight years,\nwill make them fine proficients; but that they should not go too raw or\nyoung out of the academy, it is proper, that at the stated age of\napprenticeship, they be bound to the hospital, to engage their greater\napplication, and make them thorough masters, before they launch out into\nthe world; for one great hinderance to many performers is, that they\nbegin to teach too soon, and obstruct their genius.\nWhat will not such a design produce in a few years? Will they not be\nable to perform a concert, choir, or opera, or all three, among\nthemselves, and overpay the charge, as shall hereafter be specified?\nFor example, we will suppose such a design to be continued for ten\nyears, we shall find an orchestra of forty hands, and a choir or opera\nof twenty voices, or admitting that of those twenty only five prove\ncapital singers, it will answer the intent.\nFor the greater variety they may, if they think fit, take in two or more\nof their girls, where they find a promising genius, but this may be\nfurther considered of.\nNow, when they are enabled to exhibit an opera, will they not gain\nconsiderably when their voices and hands cost them only a college\nsubsistence? and it is but reasonable the profits accruing from operas,\nconcerts, or otherwise, should go to the hospital, to make good all\nformer and future expenses, and enable them to extend the design to a\ngreater length and grandeur; so that instead of 1,500_l._ per annum, the\nprice of one Italian singer, we shall for 300_l._ once in ten years,\nhave sixty English musicians regularly educated, and enabled to live by\ntheir science.\nThere ought, moreover, to be annual probations, and proper prizes or\npremiums allotted, to excite emulation in the youths, and give life to\ntheir studies.\nThey have already a music school, as they call it, but the allowance is\ntoo poor for this design, and the attendance too small, it must be every\nday, or not at all.\nThis will be an academy indeed, and in process of time they will have\neven their masters among themselves; and what is the charge, compared\nwith the profits, or their abilities?\nOne thing I had like to have forgot, which is, that with permission of\nthe right reverend the lords spiritual, some performance in music,\nsuitable to the solemnity of the day, be exhibited every Sunday after\ndivine service. Sacred poesy, and rhetoric may be likewise introduced to\nmake it an entertainment suitable to a Christian and polite audience;\nand indeed we seem to want some such commendable employment for the\nbetter sort; for we see the public walks and taverns crowded, and rather\nthan be idle, they will go to Newport market.\nThat such an entertainment would be much preferable to drinking, gaming,\nor profane discourse, none can deny; and till it is proved to be\nprejudicial, I shall always imagine it necessary. The hall at the\nhospital will contain few less than seven hundred people, conveniently\nseated, which at so small a price as one shilling per head, will amount\nto 35_l._ per week; and if the performance deserve it, as no doubt it\nwill in time, they may make it half a crown, or more, which must\nconsiderably increase the income of the hospital.\nWhen they are able to make an opera, the profits will be yet more\nconsiderable, nor will they reap much less from what the youths bring in\nduring their apprenticeship, when employed at concerts, theatres, or\nother public entertainments.\nHaving advanced what I think proper on this head, or at least enough for\na hint, I proceed to offer,\n_That many youths and servants may be saved from destruction were the\nstreets cleared of shameless and impudent strumpets, gaming tables\ntotally suppressed, and a stop put to sabbath debauches._\nThe corruption of our children and servants is of importance sufficient\nto require our utmost precaution; and moreover, women servants (commonly\ncalled maid-servants) are such necessary creatures, that it is by no\nmeans below us to make them beneficial rather than prejudicial to us.\nI shall not run into a description of their abuses; we know enough of\nthose already. Our business now is to make them useful, first by\nascertaining their wages at a proper standard.\nSecondly, by obliging them to continue longer in service, not to stroll\nabout from place to place, and throw themselves on the town on every\ndislike.\nThirdly, to prevent their being harboured by wicked persons, when out\nof place; or living too long on their own hands.\nAs for their wages, they have topped upon us already, and doubled them\nin spite of our teeth; but as they have had wit enough to get them, so\nwill they, I doubt not, have the same sense to keep them, and much good\nmay it do those indolent over-secure persons, who have given them this\nadvantage. However, if they are honest and diligent, I would have them\nencouraged, and handsome wages allowed them; because, by this means, we\nprovide for the children of the inferior class of people, who otherwise\ncould not maintain themselves; nay, sometimes tradesmen, &c., reduced,\nare glad when their children cease to hang upon them, by getting into\nservice, and by that means not only maintaining themselves, but being of\nuse in other families. But then there ought to be some medium, some\nlimitation to their wages, or they may extort more than can well be\nafforded.\nNothing calls for more redress than their quitting service for every\nidle disgust, leaving a master or mistress at a nonplus, and all under\nplea of a foolish old custom, called warning, nowhere practised but in\nLondon; for in other places they are hired by the year, or by the\nstatute as they call it, which settles them in a place, at least for\nsome time; whereas, when they are not limited, it encourages a roving\ntemper, and makes them never easy.\nIf you turn them away without warning, they will make you pay a month's\nwages, be the provocation or offence never so great; but if they leave\nyou, though never so abruptly, or unprovided, help yourselves how you\ncan, there is no redress; though I think there ought, in all conscience,\nto be as much law for the master as for the servant.\nNo servant should quit a place where they are well fed and paid,\nwithout assigning a good reason before a magistrate. On the other hand,\nthey should receive no abuse which should not be redressed; for we ought\nto treat them as servants, not slaves; and a medium ought to be observed\non both sides. But if they are not restrained from quitting service on\nevery vagary, they will throw themselves on the town, and not only ruin\nthemselves, but others; for example, a girl quits a place and turns\nwhore; if there is not a bastard to be murdered, or left to the parish,\nthere is one or more unwary youths drawn in to support her in lewdness\nand idleness; in order to which, they rob their parents and masters,\nnay, sometimes, anybody else, to support their strumpets; so that many\nthieves owe their ruin and shameful deaths to harlots; not to mention\nthe communication of loathsome distempers, and innumerable other evils,\nto which they give birth.\nHow many youths, of all ranks, are daily ruined? and how justly may be\ndreaded the loss of as many more, if a speedy stop be not put to this\ngrowing evil? Generations to come will curse the neglect of the present,\nand every sin committed for the future may be passed to our account, if\nwe do not use our endeavours to the contrary.\nAnd unless we prevent our maid-servants from being harboured by wicked\npersons when out of place, or living too long on their own hands, our\nstreets will swarm with impudent shameless strumpets; the good will be\nmolested; those prone to evil will be made yet more wicked, by having\ntemptations thrown in their way; and, to crown all, we shall have scarce\na servant left, but our wives, &c., must do the household-work\nthemselves.\nIf this be not worthy the consideration of a legislature, I would fain\nknow what is. Is it not time to limit their wages, when they are grown\nso wanton they know not what to ask? Is it not time to fix them, when\nthey stroll from place to place, and we are hardly sure of a servant a\nmonth together? Is it not time to prevent the increase of harlots, by\nmaking it penal for servants to be harboured in idleness, and tempted to\ntheft, whoredom, murder, &c., by living too long out of place? and I am\nsure it is high time to begin the work, by clearing the public streets\nof night-walkers, who are grown to such a pitch of impudence that peace\nand common decency are manifestly broken in our public streets. I wonder\nthis has so long escaped the eye of the magistrate, especially when\nthere are already in force laws sufficient to restrain this tide of\nuncleanness, which will one day overflow us.\nThe lewdest people upon earth, ourselves excepted, are not guilty of\nsuch open violations of the laws of decency. Go all the world over, and\nyou will see no such impudence as in the streets of London, which makes\nmany foreigners give our women in general a bad character, from the vile\nspecimens they meet with from one end of the town to the other. Our\nsessions' papers are full of the trials of impudent sluts, who first\ndecoy men and then rob them; a meanness the courtesans of Rome and\nVenice abhor.\nHow many honest women, those of the inferior sort especially, get\nloathsome distempers from their husband's commerce with these creatures,\nwhich distempers are often entailed on posterity; nor have we an\nhospital separated for that purpose, which does not contain too many\ninstances of honest poor wretches made miserable by villains of\nhusbands.\nAnd now I have mentioned the villany of some husbands in the lower state\nof life, give me leave to propose, or at least to wish, that they were\nrestrained from abusing their wives at that barbarous rate, which is\nnow practised by butchers, carmen, and such inferior sort of fellows,\nwho are public nuisances to civil neighbourhoods, and yet nobody cares\nto interpose, because the riot is between a man and his wife.\nI see no reason why every profligate fellow shall have the liberty to\ndisturb a whole neighbourhood, and abuse a poor honest creature at a\nmost inhuman rate, and is not to be called to account because it is his\nwife; this sort of barbarity was never so notorious and so much\nencouraged as at present, for every vagabond thinks he may cripple his\nwife at pleasure; and it is enough to pierce a heart of stone to see how\nbarbarously some poor creatures are beaten and abused by merciless dogs\nof husbands.\nIt gives an ill example to the growing generation, and this evil will\ngain ground on us if not prevented; it may be answered, the law has\nalready provided redress, and a woman abused may swear the peace against\nher husband, but what woman cares to do that? It is revenging herself on\nherself, and not without considerable charge and trouble.\nThere ought to be a shorter way, and when a man has beaten his wife,\nwhich by the by is a most unmanly action, and great sign of cowardice,\nit behoves every neighbour who has the least humanity or compassion, to\ncomplain to the next justice of the peace, who should be empowered to\nset him in the stocks for the first offence; to have him well scourged\nat the whipping-post for the second; and if he persisted in his\nbarbarous abuse of the holy marriage state, to send him to the house of\ncorrection till he should learn to use more mercy to his yoke-fellow.\nHow hard is it for a poor industrious woman to be up early and late, to\nsit in a cold shop, stall, or market, all weathers, to carry heavy loads\nfrom one end of the town to the other, or to work from morning till\nnight, and even then dread going home for fear of being murdered? Some\nmay think this too low a topic for me to expatiate upon, to which I\nanswer, that it is a charitable and Christian one, and therefore not in\nthe least beneath the consideration of any man who had a woman for his\nmother.\nThe mention of this leads me to exclaim against the vile practice now so\nmuch in vogue among the better sort as they are called, but the worst\nsort in fact; namely, the sending their wives to madhouses, at every\nwhim or dislike, that they may be more secure and undisturbed in their\ndebaucheries; which wicked custom is got to such a head, that the number\nof private madhouses in and about London are considerably increased\nwithin these few years.\nThis is the height of barbarity and injustice in a Christian country, it\nis a clandestine inquisition, nay worse.\nHow many ladies and gentlewomen are hurried away to these houses, which\nought to be suppressed, or at least subject to daily examination, as\nhereafter shall be proposed?\nHow many, I say, of beauty, virtue, and fortune, are suddenly torn from\ntheir dear innocent babes, from the arms of an unworthy man, whom they\nlove, perhaps, but too well, and who in return for that love, nay\nprobably an ample fortune and a lovely offspring besides, grows weary of\nthe pure streams of chaste love, and thirsting after the puddles of\nlawless lust, buries his virtuous wife alive, that he may have the\ngreater freedom with his mistresses?\nIf they are not mad when they go into these cursed houses, they are soon\nmade so by the barbarous usage they there suffer; and any woman of\nspirit, who has the least love for her husband, or concern for her\nfamily, cannot sit down tamely under a confinement and separation the\nmost unaccountable and unreasonable.\nIs it not enough to make any one mad to be suddenly clapped up,\nstripped, whipped, ill-fed, and worse used? To have no reason assigned\nfor such treatment, no crime alleged, or accusers to confront? And what\nis worse, no soul to appeal to but merciless creatures, who answer but\nin laughter, surliness, contradiction, and too often stripes?\nAll conveniences for writing are denied, no messenger to be had to carry\na letter to any relation or friend; and if this tyrannical inquisition,\njoined with the reasonable reflections a woman of any common\nunderstanding must necessarily make, be not sufficient to drive any soul\nstark staring mad, though before they were never so much in their right\nsenses, I have no more to say.\nWhen by this means a wicked husband has driven a poor creature mad, and\nrobbed an injured wife of her reason, for it is much easier to create\nthan to cure madness, then has the villain a handle for his roguery;\nthen, perhaps, he will admit her distressed relations to see her, when\nit is too late to cure the madness he so artfully and barbarously has\nprocured.\nBut this is not all: sometimes more dismal effects attend this\ninquisition, for death is but too often the cure of their madness and\nend of their sorrows; some with ill usage, some with grief, and many\nwith both, are barbarously cut off in the prime of their years and\nflower of their health, who otherwise might have been mothers of a\nnumerous issue, and survived many years. This is murder in the deepest\nsense, and much more cruel than dagger or poison, because more\nlingering; they die by piecemeal, and in all the agonies and terrors of\na distracted mind.\nNay, it is murder upon murder, for the issue that might have been begot\nis to be accounted for to God and the public. Now, if this kind of\nmurder is connived at, we shall no doubt have enough, nay, too much of\nit; for if a man is weary of his wife, has spent her fortune, and wants\nanother, it is but sending her to a madhouse and the business is done at\nonce.\nHow many have already been murdered after this manner is best known to\njust Heaven, and those unjust husbands and their damned accomplices,\nwho, though now secure in their guilt, will one day find it is murder of\nthe blackest dye, has the least claim to mercy, and calls aloud for the\nseverest vengeance.\nHow many are yet to be sacrificed, unless a speedy stop be put to this\nmost accursed practice, I tremble to think; our legislature cannot take\nthis cause too soon in hand. This surely cannot be below their notice,\nand it will be an easy matter at once to suppress all these pretended\nmadhouses. Indulge, gentle reader, for once the doting of an old man,\nand give him leave to lay down his little system without arraigning him\nof arrogance or ambition to be a lawgiver. In my humble opinion, all\nprivate madhouses should be suppressed at once, and it should be no less\nthan felony to confine any person under pretence of madness without due\nauthority.\nFor the cure of those who are really lunatic, licensed madhouses should\nbe constituted in convenient parts of the town, which houses should be\nsubject to proper visitation and inspection, nor should any person be\nsent to a madhouse without due reason, inquiry, and authority.\nIt may be objected, by persons determined to contradict every thing and\napprove nothing, that the abuses complained of are not so numerous or\nheinous as I would insinuate. Why are not facts advanced, they will be\napt to say, to give a face of truth to these assertions? But I have two\nreasons to the contrary; the first is, the more you convince them, the\nmore angry you make them, for they are never better pleased than when\nthey have an opportunity of finding fault; therefore, to curry favour\nwith the fault-finders, I have left them a loophole: the second and real\nis, because I do not care to bring an old house over my head by\nmentioning particular names or special cases, thereby drawing myself\ninto vexatious prosecutions and suits at law from litigious wretches,\nwho would be galled to find their villanies made public, and stick at no\nexpense or foul play to revenge themselves. Not but I could bring many\ninstances, particularly of an unhappy widow, put in by a villain of a\nhusband, and now continued in for the sake of her jointure by her\nunnatural son, far from common honesty or humanity. Of another, whose\nhusband keeps his mistress in black velvet, and is seen with her every\nnight at the opera or play, while his poor wife (by much the finer\nwoman, and of an understanding far superior to her thick-skulled\ntyrant,) is kept mean in diet and apparel; nay, ill-used into the\nbargain, notwithstanding her fortune supplies all the villain's\nextravagances, and he has not a shilling but what came from her: but a\nbeggar when once set on horseback proves always the most unmerciful\nrider.\nI cannot leave this subject without inserting one particular case.\nA lady of known beauty, virtue, and fortune, nay more, of wisdom, not\nflashy wit, was, in the prime of her youth and beauty, and when her\nsenses were perfectly sound, carried by her husband in his coach as to\nthe opera; but the coachman had other instructions, and drove directly\nto a madhouse, where the poor innocent lady was no sooner introduced,\nunder pretence of calling by the way to see some pictures he had a mind\nto buy, but the key was turned upon her, and she left a prisoner by her\nfaithless husband, who while his injured wife was confined and used with\nthe utmost barbarity, he, like a profligate wretch, ran through her\nfortune with strumpets, and then basely, under pretence of giving her\nliberty, extorted her to make over her jointure, which she had no sooner\ndone but he laughed in her face, and left her to be as ill-used as ever.\nThis he soon ran through, and (happily for the lady) died by the justice\nof heaven in a salivation his debauches had obliged him to undergo.\nDuring her confinement, the villain of the madhouse frequently attempted\nher chastity; and the more she repulsed him the worse he treated her,\ntill at last he drove her mad in good earnest. Her distressed brother,\nwho is fond of her to the last degree, now confines her in part of his\nown house, treating her with great tenderness, but has the mortification\nto be assured by the ablest physicians that his poor sister is\nirrecoverably distracted.\nNumberless are the instances I could produce, but they would be\naccounted fictitious, because I do not name the particular persons, for\nthe reasons before assigned; but the sufferings of these poor ladies are\nnot fictitious, nor are the villany of the madhouses, or the unnatural,\nthough fashionable barbarity of husbands, chimeras, but too solid\ngrievances, and manifest violations of the laws of God and man.\nMost gracious and august queen Caroline! ornament of your sex, and pride\nof the British nation! the best of mothers, the best of wives, the best\nof women! Begin this auspicious reign with an action worthy your\nillustrious self, rescue your injured sex from this tyranny, nor let it\nbe in the power of every brutal husband to cage and confine his wife at\npleasure, a practice scarce heard of till of late years. Nip it in the\nbud, most gracious queen, and draw on yourself the blessings of\nnumberless of the fair sex, now groaning under the severest and most\nunjust bondage. Restore them to their families; let them, by your means,\nenjoy light and liberty; that while they fondly embrace, and with tears\nof joy weep over their dear children, so long withheld from them, they\nmay invoke accumulated blessings from heaven upon your royal head!\nAnd you, ye fair illustrious circle! who adorn the British court! and\nevery day surround our gracious queen: let generous pity inspire your\nsouls, and move you to intercede with your noble consorts for redress in\nthis injurious affair. Who can deny when you become suitors? and who\nknows but at your request a bill may be brought into the house to\nregulate these abuses? The cause is a noble and a common one, and ought\nto be espoused by every lady who would claim the least title to virtue\nor compassion. I am sure no honest member in either honourable house\nwill be against so reasonable a bill; the business is for some\npublic-spirited patriot to break the ice by bringing it into the house,\nand I dare lay my life it passes.\nI must beg my reader's indulgence, being the most immethodical writer\nimaginable. It is true I lay down a scheme, but fancy is so fertile I\noften start fresh hints, and cannot but pursue them; pardon therefore,\nkind reader, my digressive way of writing, and let the subject, not the\nstyle or method, engage thy attention.\nReturn we, therefore, to complain of destructive gaming-houses, the bane\nof our youth, and ruin of our children and servants.\nThis is the most unprofitable evil upon earth, for it only tends to\nalienate the proper current of specie, to maintain a pack of idle\nsharping rascals, and beggar unwary gentlemen and traders.\nI take the itch of gaming to be the most pernicious of vices, it is a\nkind of avaricious madness; and if people have not sense to command\nthemselves by reason, they ought to be restrained by law; nor suffered\nto ruin themselves and families, to enrich a crew of sharpers.\nThere is no playing on the square with these villains; they are sure to\ncheat you, either by sleight of hand, confederacy, or false dice, &c.;\nthey have so much the odds of their infatuated bubbles, that they might\nsafely play a guinea to a shilling, and yet be sure of winning. This is\nbut genteel pocket picking, or felony with another name, and yet, so\nfond are we of it, that from the footboy to the lord, all must have a\ntouch of gaming; and there are sharpers of different stations and\ndenominations, from Southwark-fair to the groom porters. Shame, that\ngentlemen should suffer every scoundrel to mix with them for gaming\nsake! And equal shame, that honest laborious tradesmen should be\nobstructed in crossing the public streets, by the gilt chariots of\nvagabond gamesters; who now infest the land, and brave even our nobility\nand gentry with their own money.\nBut the most barbarous part of this hellish trade is what they call\nsetting of young gentlemen, apprentices, and others; this ought to be\ndeemed felony without benefit of clergy; for it is the worst of\nthievery. Under pretence of taking a bottle, or spending an evening\ngaily, they draw their cull to the tavern, where they sit not long\nbefore the devil's bones or books are found accidentally on purpose, by\nthe help of which they strip my gentleman in an instant, and then\ngenerously lend him his own money, to lose afresh, and create a debt\nwhich is but too often more justly paid than those more justly due.\nIf we look into some late bankruptcies we shall find some noted\ngamesters the principal creditors; I think, in such cases it would be\nbut justice to make void the gamester's debt, and subject his estate to\nmake good the deficiencies of the bankrupt's effects. If traders have no\nmore wit, the public should have pity on them; and make it as penal to\nlose as to win; and, in truth, if cards, dice, &c., were totally\nsuppressed, industry and arts would increase the more; gaming may make a\nman crafty, but not polite; one may understand cards and dice perfectly\nwell, and be a blockhead in everything else.\nI am sorry to see it so prevalent in the city among the trading part of\nmankind, who have introduced it into their clubs, and play so high of\nlate that many bankrupts have been made by this pernicious practice.\nIt is the bane of all conversation; and those who can't sit an hour\nwithout gaming, should never go into a club to spoil company. In a word,\nit is mere madness, and a most stupid thing to hazard one's fortune, and\nperplex one's mind; nay, to sit up whole nights, poring over toys of\npipped ivory and painted pasteboard, making ourselves worse than little\nchildren, whose innocent sports we so much ridicule.\nTo sum up all, I think it would be a noble retribution, to subject\ngamesters' estates to the use and support of the poor widows and orphans\nof their unfortunate bubbles.\nSunday debauches are abuses that call loud for amendment; it is in this\npernicious soil the seeds of ruin are first sown. Instead of a day of\nrest, we make it a day of labour, by toiling in the devil's vineyard;\nand but too many surfeit themselves with the fruits of gluttony,\ndrunkenness, and uncleanness.\nNot that I am so superciliously strict, to have the sabbath kept as\nrigidly here as in Scotland, but then there ought to be a medium between\nthe severity of a fast, and the riot of Saturnalia. Instead of a decent\nand cheerful solemnity, our taverns and publichouses have more business\nthat day than all the week beside. Our apprentices plume themselves;\nnay, some scruple not to put on their swords and tie wigs, or toupees,\nand the loose end of the town is their rendezvous, Sunday being\nmarket-day all round the hundreds of Drury.\nWhile we want servants to do our work, those hundreds, as they call\nthem, are crowded with numbers of idle impudent sluts, who love sporting\nmore than spinning, and inveigle our youth to their ruin; nay, many old\nlechers, beasts as they are! steal from their families, and seek these\nharlots' lurking holes, to practise their unaccountable schemes of new\ninvented lewdnesses; some half hang themselves, others are whipped, some\nlie under a table and gnaw the bones that are thrown them, while others\nstand slaving among a parcel of drabs at a washing tub. Strange that the\ninclination should not die with the power, but that old fools should\nmake themselves the prey and ridicule of a pack of strumpets!\nSome heedless youths are wheedled into marriage, which makes them and\ntheir unhappy parents miserable all their lives; others are drawn into\nextravagancies, and but too often run into their master's cash, and for\nfear of a discovery, make away with themselves, or at least run away and\nleave their distracted parents in a thousand tears; not to mention the\nfrustration of their fortune, and the miseries that attend a vagabond\nlife. Thus honest parents lose their children, and traders their\napprentices, and all from a liberty we have of late given our youth of\nrambling abroad on Sundays; for many, nowadays will lie out all night,\nor stay out so late to give no small disturbance in sober families. It\ntherefore behoves every master of a family to have his servants under\nhis eye; and if the going to church, meeting, or whatever place of\nworship suited their religion, were more enforced, it would be so much\nthe better.\nIn short, the luxury of the age will be the ruin of the nation, if not\nprevented. We leave trade to game in stocks; we live above ourselves,\nand barter our ready money for trifles; tea and wine are all we seem\nanxious for, and God has given the blessings of life to an ungrateful\npeople, who despise their own productions. Our very plough-fellows drink\nwine nowadays; our farmers, graziers, and butchers, are above malt\nliquors; and the wholesome breakfast of water-gruel and milk potage is\nchanged for coffee and tea. This is the reason provisions and corn, &c.,\nare so dear; we all work for vintners, and raise our prices one upon\nanother to such a degree, it will be an impossibility to live, and we\nshall, of course, become our own devourers.\nWe strain at a gnat and swallow a camel; and, in this instance, the\npublichouses are kept open to furnish our luxury, while we deny\nourselves other necessaries of life, out of a scruple of conscience. For\nexample; in extreme hot weather, when meat will not keep from Saturday\nto Sunday, we throw, or cause to be thrown away, vast quantities of\ntainted meat, and have generally stinking dinners, because the butchers\ndare not sell a joint of meat on a Sunday morning. Now, though I would\nnot have the Sabbath so far violated as to have it a market-day, yet,\nrather than abuse God's mercies by throwing away creatures given for our\nuse, nay, for our own healths and cleanliness sake, I would have the\nsame indulgence in extreme hot weather, as there is for milk and\nmackerel; that is to say, that meat might be killed in the cool of the\nmorning, viz., one or two of the clock, and sold till nine, and no\nlonger; nor should villanous informers have power to molest them in this\ninnocent and reasonable amendment of a ridiculous vulgar error.\nI cannot forbear taking notice of the extravagant use, or rather abuse,\nof that nauseous liquor called Geneva, among our lower sort. Those who\ndeny that an inferior class of people are most necessary in a body\npolitic, contradict reason and experience itself, since they are most\nuseful when industrious, and as pernicious when lazy. By their industry\nour manufactures, trade, and commerce are carried on; the merchant in\nhis counting-house, and the captain in his cabin, would find but little\nemployment were it not that many hands carried on the different branches\nof the concern they superintended.\nBut now, so far are our common people infatuated with Geneva, that half\nthe work is not done now as formerly. It debilitates and enervates them,\nand they are not near so strong and healthy as formerly. This accursed\nliquor is in itself so diuretic, it overstrains the parts of generation,\nand makes our common people incapable of getting such lusty children as\nthey used to do. Add to this, that the women, by drinking it, spoil\ntheir milk, and by giving it to young children, as they foolishly do,\nspoil the stomach, and hinder digestion; so that in less than an age, we\nmay expect a fine spindle-shanked generation.\nThere is not in nature so unhealthy a liquor as Geneva, especially as\ncommonly sold; it curdles the blood, it stupefies the senses, it weakens\nthe nerves, it spoils the eyesight, and entirely ruins the stomach; nay,\nsome stomachs have been rendered so cold by the use of Geneva, that lamp\nspirits have not been a dram warm enough for them. Surely they will come\nto drink aquafortis at last!\nOn the contrary, our own malt liquors, especially common draught beer,\nis most wholesome and nourishing, and has brought up better generations\nthan the present: it is strengthening, cooling, and balsamic; it helps\ndigestion, and carries nourishment with it; and, in spite of the whims\nof some physicians, is most pertinent to a human, especially a good\nwholesome English, constitution. Nay, the honest part of the faculty\ndeny not the use of small beer, well brewed, even in fevers. I, myself,\nhave found great benefit by it; and if it be good in its kind, it is the\nfinest jalap upon earth.\nIf this abuse of Geneva be not stopped, we may go whoop for husbandmen,\nlabourers, &c. Trade must consequently stand still, and the credit of\nthe nation sink; nor is the abatement of the excise, though very\nconsiderable, and most worthy notice, any ways comparable to the\ncorruption of manners, the destruction of health, and all the train of\nevils we are threatened with from pernicious Geneva.\n_An effectual method to prevent street robberies._\nThe principal encouragements and opportunity given to street robbers is,\nthat our streets are so poorly watched; the watchmen, for the most part,\nbeing decrepit, superannuated wretches, with one foot in the grave and\nthe other ready to follow; so feeble that a puff of breath can blow\nthem down. Poor crazy mortals! much fitter for an almshouse than a\nwatchhouse. A city watched and guarded by such animals is wretchedly\nwatched indeed.\nNay, so little terror do our watchmen carry with them, that hardy\nthieves make a mere jest of them, and sometimes oblige even the very\nwatchman who should apprehend them to light them in their roguery. And\nwhat can a poor creature do, in terror of his life, surrounded by a pack\nof ruffians, and no assistance near?\nAdd to this, that our rogues are grown more wicked than ever, and vice\nin all kinds is so much winked at, that robbery is accounted a petty\ncrime. We take pains to puff them up in their villany, and thieves are\nset out in so amiable a light in the Beggar's Opera, that it has taught\nthem to value themselves on their profession rather than be ashamed of\nit.\nThere was some cessation of street robberies, from the time of Bunworth\nand Blewitt's execution, until the introduction of this pious opera. Now\nwe find the Cartouchian villanies revived, and London, that used to be\nthe most safe and peaceful city in the universe, is now a scene of\nrapine and danger. If some of Cartouch's gang be not come over to\ninstruct our thieves, and propagate their schemes, we have, doubtless, a\nCartouch of our own, and a gang which, if not suppressed, may be full as\npernicious as ever Cartouch's was, and London will be as dangerous as\nParis, if due care be not taken.\nWe ought to begin our endeavours to suppress these villanies, first by\nheavenly, and then by earthly means.\nBy heavenly means, in enforcing and encouraging a reformation of\nmanners, by suppressing of vice and immorality, and punishing\nprofaneness and licentiousness. Our youth are corrupted by filthy, lewd\nballads, sung and sold publicly in our streets; nay, unlicensed and\nunstamped, notwithstanding acts of parliament to the contrary.\nCoachmen, carmen, &c, are indulged in swearing after the most\nblasphemous, shocking, and unaccountable rate that ever was known. New\noaths and blasphemies are daily uttered and invented; and rather than\nnot exercise this hellish talent, they will vent their curses on their\nvery horses; and, oh stupid! damn the blood of a post, rather than want\nsomething to curse.\nOur common women, too, have learned this vice; and not only strumpets,\nbut labouring women, who keep our markets, and vend things about street,\nswear and curse at a most hideous rate. Their children learn it from\ntheir parents, and those of the middle, or even the better sort of\npeople, if they pass through the streets to school, or to play, catch\nthe infection, and carry home such words as must consequently be very\nshocking to sober parents.\nOur youth, in general, have too much liberty; the Sabbath is not kept\nwith due solemnity; masters and mistresses of families are too remiss in\nthe care of the souls committed to their charge. Family prayer is\nneglected; and, to the shame of scoffers be it spoken, too much\nridiculed. All ages and sexes, if in health, should be obliged to attend\npublic worship, according to their respective opinions. Were it only to\nkeep youth out of harm's way it would do well. But it is to be hoped, if\ntheir parents, masters, or mistresses, should oblige their attendance at\npublic devotion, they would edify by what they should hear, and many\nwicked acts would be stifled in their infancy, and checked even in the\nintention, by good and useful doctrine.\nOur common people make it a day of debauch, and get so drunk on a\nSunday they cannot work for a day or two following. Nay, since the use\nof Geneva has become so common, many get so often drunk they cannot work\nat all, but run from one irregularity to another, till at last they\nbecome arrant rogues. And this is the foundation of all our present\ncomplaints.\nWe will suppose a man able to maintain himself and family by his trade,\nand at the same time to be a Geneva drinker. This fellow first makes\nhimself incapable of working by being continually drunk; this runs him\nbehindhand, and he either pawns or neglects his work, for which reason\nnobody will employ him. At last, fear of arrests, his own hunger, the\ncries of his family for bread, his natural desire to support an\nirregular life, and a propense hatred to labour, turn but too many an\nhonest tradesman into an arrant desperate rogue. And these are commonly\nthe means that furnish us with thieves and villains in general.\nThus is a man, that might be useful in a body politic, rendered\nobnoxious to the same: and if this trade of wickedness goes on, they\nwill grow and increase upon us, insomuch that we shall not dare to stir\nout of our habitations; nay, it will be well if they arrive not to the\nimpudence of plundering our houses at noonday.\nWhere is the courage of the English nation, that a gentleman, with six\nor seven servants, shall be robbed by one single highwayman? Yet we have\nlately had instances of this; and for this we may thank our effeminacy,\nour toupee wigs, and powdered pates, our tea, and other scandalous\nfopperies; and, above all, the disuse of noble and manly sports, so\nnecessary to a brave people, once in vogue, but now totally lost among\nus.\nLet not the reader think I run from my subject if I search the bottom\nof the distemper before I propose a cure, which having done, though\nindeed but slightly, for this is an argument could be carried to a much\ngreater length, I proceed next to propose earthly means in the manner\nfollowing.\nLet the watch be composed of stout able-bodied men, and of those at\nleast treble the number now subsisting, that is to say, a watchman to\nevery forty houses, twenty on one side of the way, and twenty on the\nother; for it is observable that a man cannot well see distinctly beyond\nthe extent of twenty houses in a row; if it is a single row, and no\nopposite houses, the charge must be greater and their safety less. This\nman should be elected and paid by the housekeepers themselves, to\nprevent misapplication and abuse, so much complained of in the\ndistribution of public money.\nHe should be allowed ten shillings per annum by each housekeeper, which\nat forty houses, as above specified, amounts to 20_l._ per annum, almost\ntreble to what is at present allowed; and yet most housekeepers are\ncharged at least 2s. 6d. a quarter to the watch, whose beat is,\ngenerally speaking, little less than the compass of half a mile.\nThis salary is something of encouragement, and a pretty settlement to a\npoor man, who with frugality may live decently thereon, and by due rest\nbe enabled to give vigilant attendance.\nIf a housekeeper break, or a house is empty, the poor watchman ought not\nto suffer, the deficiency should be made up by the housekeepers\nremaining.\nOr, indeed, all housekeepers might be excused, if a tax of only one\nshilling per annum were levied on every bachelor within the bills of\nmortality, and above the age of one-and-twenty, who is not a\nhousekeeper: for these young sparks are a kind of unprofitable gentry to\nthe state; they claim public safety and advantages, and yet pay nothing\nto the public; nay, indeed, they in a manner live upon the public, for\n(on a Sunday especially) at least a million of these gentlemen quarter\nthemselves upon the married men, and rob many families of part of a\nweek's provision, more particularly when they play a good knife and\nfork, and are of the family of the Tuckers.\nI beg pardon for this whimsical proposal, which, ludicrous as it seems,\nhas something in it; and may be improved. Return we, in the mean time,\nto our subject.\nThe watch thus stationed, strengthened, and encouraged, let every\nwatchman be armed with firearms and sword; and let no watchman stand\nabove twenty doors distant from his fellow.\nLet each watchman be provided with a bugle-horn, to sound an alarm, or\nin time of danger; and let it be made penal, if not felony, for any but\na watchman to sound a horn in and about the city, from the time of their\ngoing on, to that of their going off.\nAn objection will be here made on account of the postboys, to obviate\nwhich, I had thoughts of a bell, but that would be too ponderous and\ntroublesome for a watchman to carry, besides his arms and lantern. As to\na fixed bell, if the watchman is at another part of his walk, how can he\ngive notice? Besides, rogues may play tricks with the bell; whereas a\nhorn is portable, always ready, and most alarming.\nLet the postboys therefore use some other signal, since this is most\nconvenient to this more material purpose. They may carry a bell in a\nholster with ease, and give notice by that, as well as those who collect\nthe letters.\nThat the watchmen may see from one end of their walks to the other, let\na convenient number of lamps be set up, and those not of the convex\nkind, which blind the eyes, and are of no manner of use; they dazzle,\nbut give no distinct light: and further, rather than prevent robberies,\nmany, deceived and blinded by these _ignes fatui_, have been run over by\ncoaches, carts, &c. People stumble more upon one another, even under\nthese very lamps, than in the dark. In short, they are most unprofitable\nlights, and in my opinion, rather abuses than benefits.\nBesides, I see no reason why every ten housekeepers cannot find a lamp\namong themselves, and let their watchman dress it, rather than fatten a\ncrew of directors; but we are so fond of companies, it is a wonder we\nhave not our shoes blacked by one, and a set of directors made rich at\nthe expense of our very black-guards. Convenient turnpikes and stoppages\nmay be made to prevent escapes, and it will be proper for a watchman to\nbe placed at one of these, fixed at the end of a lane, court, alley, or\nother thoroughfare, which may happen in any part of his beat, and so as\nnot to obstruct his view to both ends thereof, or being able to give\nnotice, as aforesaid; for the watch ought to be in view, as well as in\nthe hearing of each other, or they may be overpowered, and much danger\nmay happen.\nThe streets thus guarded and illuminated, what remains but that the\nmoney allotted by the government be instantly paid on conviction of\nevery offender; for delays in this case are of dangerous consequence,\nand nobody will venture their lives in hopes of a reward, if it be not\nduly and timely paid. If there is reason of complaint on this head, it\nought to be looked into by those at the helm; for nothing can be more\nvile than for underlings to abuse the benevolence of the public, or\ntheir superiors, by sinking, abridging, or delaying public or private\nbenefits. And it is by no means below the dignity or care, even of the\ngreatest, to see the disposal of their own bounty and charity; for it\nloses but too often by the carriage: and where a nobleman or other\ngenerous person has ordered five guineas to be given, it is well if the\nproper object has had even one.\nSomething allowed by the Chamber of London to every person apprehending\na robber, would have a good effect, especially if it be not told over a\ngridiron, but paid without delay or abatement. And what if the fewer\ncustards are eat, so it augment the public safety.\nSome of our common soldiery are, and I hope unjustly, suspected. This\nmay be easily confuted, if strict orders are enforced, that none but\ncommission or warrant officers shall be out of their quarters after ten\nat night. But if we consider, that neither Blewit, Bunworth, or their\ngangs, were soldiers, and that of those who have been executed for ten\nyears past, not one in ten were soldiers, but, on the contrary, seamen\ndischarged and thrown on the public without present subsistence, which\nmakes them desperate; but I hope the act now depending for the\nencouragement of seamen, &c., will sufficiently remove that obstacle\nalso. This, I hope, will stop the mouths of censorious persons, who\nunjustly arraign our soldiery for the vices of others. However, to make\nall easy, I believe the generality of them will gladly submit to the\nrestraint proposed, merely to show their innocence.\nMean time, would his most sacred majesty let them partake of his bounty,\nas the officers, &c., have done, and raise their pay, were it but one\npenny _per diem_, it would be a most royal bounty, would considerably\ncontribute to their support, and put them above any sordid views: and\nthere was never more occasion than now, when provisions of all kinds are\nso excessive dear.\nHaving offered my little mite to the public, I beg they will excuse the\ndeficiency of my style, and multitude of my errors, for my intention's\nsake. I write without prospect of gain; if I am censured, it is what I\ncan but expect; but if among all my schemes one proves of service, my\ndesires and labours are amply answered.\n_Omissions._\nIn my scheme for an university in London I proposed only a hall or\npublic room; on recollection I find it should be a large house or inn,\nin the nature of a college, with store of convenient rooms for\ngentlemen, not only to study separately, but wherein to lodge their\nbooks, for it would be most inconvenient to lug them backwards and\nforwards. They may indeed breakfast, sup, and sleep at home, but it will\nbe highly necessary they should dine in commons, or at least near the\ncollege; not that I would have cooks, butlers, caterers, manciples, and\nthe whole train of college cannibals retained; but for fear they should\nstay too long at home, or be hindered from returning to study in due\ntime, some proper place or person might be pitched upon to keep an\nordinary, at a prefixed price and hour, and for the students only.\nMy reasons are these:--\nFirst, A young gentleman may live too far from college.\nSecond, The college hours for dinner may not agree with those of the\nfamily.\nThird, Company may drop in and detain him.\nThese being, I think, the only material objections could be offered, I\nhope I have amply provided against them, and rendered my project more\nperfect and unexceptionable.\nOne omission I made in the discourse on madhouses, &c., is, that maiden\nladies as well as widows and wives are liable to the inquisition there\ncomplained of, and I am informed a good estate is lately come to a\nworthless family by the death, or rather murder, of an innocent young\ncreature, who being left very rich, chose to live with her friends; but\nwell had it been for her had she taken up her abode among strangers, for\nthey staved off all proposals for marriage a considerable time, and when\nat last they found the lady would not be hindered from altering her\ncondition, she was hurried away to a madhouse, where she miserably ended\nher days, while they rioted in the pillage of her fortune. Thus neither\nmaid, wife, or widow, are safe while these accursed madhouses are\nsuffered; nay, I see no reason, if the age improves in wickedness, as in\nall probability it may, but the men, _per contra_, may take their turns.\nYounger brothers, &c., may clap up their elders, and jump into their\nestates, for there are no questions asked at these madhouses, but who is\nthe paymaster, and how much; give them but their price, mad or not mad,\nit is no matter whom they confine; so that if any person lives longer\nthan his relations think convenient, they know their remedy; it is but\nsending them to a madhouse and the estate is their own.\nHaving answered all that I think liable to objection, and recollected\nwhat I had omitted, I desire to stand or fall by the judgment of the\nserious part of mankind; wherein they shall correct me I will kiss the\nrod and suffer with patience; but if a pack of hackney scribblers shall\nattack me only by way of a get-penny, I shall not be provoked to answer\nthem, be they never so scurrilous, lest I be accounted as one of them.\nTO LIEUTENANT-COLONEL SAMUEL ROBINSON.\n  SIR,\nI shall congratulate you on your election into the chamberlainship of\nthe city of London, or otherwise, as you shall acquit yourself in\nanswering candidly and impartially to the following queries.\nI. whether there is not money sufficient in the chamber of London to pay\noff the orphan's fund? Or if not a sufficient sum, what sum it is, and\nwhat is the deficiency? How long it has lain there, and what interest\nhas been made upon it?\nII. If there are not considerable arrears due from many wards, and what\nthose arrears are?\nIII. Who are these poor orphans we pay so much money to? and whether\nthey are not some of the richest men in the city of London, who have got\nthe stock into their own hands, and find it so snug a fund they do not\ncare to get out of it.\nIV. If it would not be much better to gather in the arrears, join them\nto the money in the office, and collect the overplus at once, rather\nthan suffer the tax to become eternal, and to pay so much interest.\nThis is but a reasonable request; and if colonel Robinson is the honest\ngentleman fame reports him to be, he will make no scruple to give a\nready answer. And indeed it will be but a handsome return made to his\nfellow citizens for their choice of him, to begin his office with such\nan act of justice, honesty, and public satisfaction, for many people do\nnot know what is meant by the orphan's tax; they pay it with remorse,\nand think themselves aggrieved. Even those who know the reason of the\nfund think it has been continued long enough, wish it were once paid\noff, suspect some secret in the affair, and give their tongues the\nliberty all losers claim; Our fathers, say they, have eaten sour grapes,\nand our teeth are set on edge, we are visited for their transgressions,\nand may be to the world's end, unless we shall find an honest\nchamberlain who will unveil this cloudy affair, and gives us a prospect\nof relief.\nThus, sir, it lies at your door to gain the applause of the whole city,\na few misers excepted, by a generous and gentlemanlike discovery of this\naffair. And you are thus publicly called upon, that your discovery may\nbe as public and beneficial to all. If you comply, I shall think you an\nhonest man, above a fellow feeling, or being biassed, and most worthy\nyour office; if not, give me leave to think, the citizens of London have\nmade but an indifferent choice.\n         Yours, as you prove yourself,\nTranscriber's note:\nThe transcriber made these changes to the text to correct obvious\nerrors:\n  p. 16, Christain --> Christian\n  p. 26, coachmam --> coachman\n  p. 35, nothwithstanding --> notwithstanding\n  p. 38, sound on alarm --> sound an alarm\n  p. 38, cary --> carry", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Augusta Triumphans\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Michael Roe, Stephanie Eason, and the Online\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries.)\n  THE\n  HISTORY\n  OF THE\n  DEVIL,\n  AS WELL\n  ANCIENT as MODERN:\n  IN TWO PARTS.\n  PART I.\n  Containing a State of the _Devil_'s Circumstances, and the various\n     Turns of his Affairs; from his Expulsion out of Heaven, to the\n     _Creation_ of Man; with Remarks on the Several Mistakes concerning\n     the Reason and Manner of his Fall.\n  Also his Proceedings with _Mankind_ ever since _Adam_, to the first\n     planting of the Christian Religion in the World.\n  PART II.\n  Containing his more private Conduct, down to the present Times: His\n     Government, his Appearances, his manner of Working, and the Tools\n     he works with.\n  _Bad as he is, the Devil may be abus'd,_\n  _Be falsly charg'd, and causelesly accus'd,_\n  _When Men, unwilling to be blam'd alone,_\n  _Shift off these Crimes on Him which are their Own._\n  The SECOND EDITION.\n  _LONDON:_\n  Printed for T. WARNER, at the _Black Boy_ in\n  _Pater-noster Row_. 1727.\n  The PREFACE\n  TO THE\n  SECOND EDITION.\n_This Second Edition of this Work, notwithstanding a large Impression of\nthe First, is a Certificate from the World of its general Acceptation;\nso we need not, according to the Custom of Editors, boast of it without\nEvidence, or tell a F----b in its Favour._\n_The Subject is singular, and it has been handled after a singular\nManner: The wise World has been pleased with it, the merry World has\nbeen diverted with it, and the ignorant World has been taught by it;\nnone but the malicious part of the World has been offended at it: Who\ncan wonder, that when the_ Devil _is not pleased,_ his Friends should be\nangry?\n_The strangest thing of it all is, to hear_ Satan _complain that the\nStory is handled prophanely: But who can think it strange that his\nAdvocates should_ BE, what he was from the Beginning?\n_The Author affirms, and has good Vouchers for it (in the Opinion of\nsuch whose Judgment passes with him for an Authority) that the whole\nTenor of the Work is solemn, calculated to promote serious Religion, and\ncapable of being improv'd in a religious manner. But he does not think\nthat we are bound never to speak of the_ Devil _but with an Air of\nTerror, as if we were always afraid of him._\n_'Tis evident the_ Devil, _as subtle and as frightful as he is, has\nacted the ridiculous and foolish Part, as much as most of God's\nCreatures, and daily does so. And he cannot believe 'tis any Sin to\nexpose him for a foolish_ Devil, _as he is, or shew the World that he\nmay be laugh'd at._\n_Those that think the Subject not handled with Gravity enough, have all\nthe Room given them in the World to handle it better; and as the Author\nprofesses he is far from thinking his Piece perfect, they ought not to\nbe angry that_ he gives them leave to mend it. _He has had the\nSatisfaction to please some Readers, and to see good Men approve it; and\nfor the rest, as my Lord_ Rochester _says in another Case,_\n  He counts their Censure Fame.\n_As for a certain Reverend Gentleman, who is pleased gravely to dislike\nthe Work_ (_he hopes, rather for the Author's sake than the_ Devil's)\n_he only says,_ Let the Performance be how it will, and the Author what\nhe will, it is apparent he has not yet preach'd away all his Hearers.\n_It is enough to me (says the Author) that the_ Devil _himself is not\npleased with my Work, and less with the Design of it; let the_ Devil\n_and all his fellow Complainers stand on one side, and the honest, well\nmeaning, charitable World, who approve my Work, on the other, and I'll\ntell Noses with_ Satan, _if he dares._\nTHE CONTENTS.\nPART I.\nCHAP. I.\n  _Being an Introduction to the whole Work_,                        Page 1\nCHAP. II.\n  _Of the Word_ DEVIL, _as it is a proper Name to the Devil, and\nCHAP. III.\n  _Of the Original of the_ DEVIL, _who he is, what he was before\n  his Expulsion out of Heaven, and in what State he was from that\nCHAP. IV.\n  _Of the Name of the Devil, his Original, and the Nature of his\n  Circumstances since he has been call'd by that Name_                  38\nCHAP. V.\n  _Of the Station Satan had in Heaven before he fell; the Nature\n  and Original of his Crime, and some of Mr._ Milton's _Mistakes\nCHAP. VI.\n  _What became of the_ Devil _and his Host of fallen Spirits after\n  their being expell'd from Heaven, and his wandring Condition till\n  the Creation; with some more of Mr._ Milton_'s Absurdities on\nCHAP. VII.\n  _Of the Number of Satan's Host; how they came first to know of\n  the new created Worlds now in Being, and their Measures with\nCHAP. VIII.\n  _Of the Power of the Devil at the Time of the Creation of this\n  World; whether it has not been farther straiten'd and limited\n  since that Time, and what Shifts and Stratagems he is oblig'd\n  to make use of to compass his Designs upon Mankind_                   95\nCHAP. IX.\n  _Of the Progress of Satan in carrying on his Conquest over\n  Mankind, from the Fall of_ Eve _to the Deluge_                       111\nCHAP. X.\n  _Of the Devil's second Kingdom, and how he got footing in the\n  renewed World by his Victory over_ Noah _and his Race_               129\nCHAP. XI.\n  _Of God's calling a Church out of the midst of a degenerate\n  World, and of Satan's new Measures upon that Incident: How\n  he attacked them immediately, and his Success in those Attacks_      159\nPART II.\nCHAP. I.\nCHAP. II.\n  _Of Hell as it is represented to us, and how the_ Devil _is to\n  be understood, as being personally in Hell, when at the same\n  Time we find him at Liberty ranging over the World_                  206\nCHAP. III.\n  _Of the Manner of_ Satan's _acting and carrying on his Affairs\n  in this World, and particularly of his ordinary Workings in the\nCHAP. IV.\n  _Of Satan's Agents or Missionaries, and their Actings upon and\nCHAP. V.\n  _Of the_ Devil_'s Management in the Pagan Hierarchy by Omens,\n  Entrails, Augurs, Oracles, and such like Pageantry of Hell; and\n  how they went off the Stage at last by the Introduction of true\nCHAP. VI.\n  _Of the extraordinary Appearances of the Devil, and particularly\nCHAP. VII.\n  _Whether is most hurtful to the World, the_ Devil _walking about\n  without his Cloven-Foot, or the Cloven-Foot walking about without\nCHAP. VIII.\n  _Of the Cloven-Foot walking about the World without the_ Devil\n  (viz.) _of Witches making Bargains with the_ Devil, _and\n  particularly of selling the Soul to the_ Devil                       316\nCHAP. IX.\n  _Of the Tools the_ Devil _works with_ (viz.) _Witches, Wizards\n  or Warlocks, Conjurers, Magicians, Diviners, Astrologers,\n  Interpreters of Dreams, Tellers of Fortunes; and above all the\n  rest, his particular modern Privy-Counsellors call'd Wits and\nCHAP. X.\n  _Of the various Methods the Devil takes to converse with Mankind_    352\nCHAP. XI.\n  _Of Divination, Sorcery, the Black-Art, Pawawing, and such like\n  Pretenders to Devilisms, and how far the_ Devil _is or is not\nThe CONCLUSION.\n  _Of the_ Devil'_s last Scene of Liberty, and what may be supposed\n  to be his End; with what we are to understand of his being\n  THE\n  HISTORY\n  OF THE\n  DEVIL, _&c._\nCHAP. I.\n_Being an Introduction to the whole Work._\nI doubt not but the title of this book will amuse some of my reading\nfriends a little at first; they will make a pause, perhaps, as they do\nat a witch's prayer, and be some time resolving whether they had best\nlook into it or no, lest they should really raise the _Devil_ by reading\nhis story.\nChildren and old women have told themselves so many frightful things _of\nthe Devil_, and have form'd ideas of him in their minds, in so many\nhorrible and monstrous shapes, that really it were enough to fright the\n_Devil_ himself, to meet himself in the dark, dress'd up in the several\nfigures which imagination has form'd for him in the minds of men; and as\nfor themselves, I cannot think by any means that the _Devil_ would\nterrify them half so much, if they were to converse face to face with\nhim.\nIt must certainly therefore be a most useful undertaking to give the\ntrue history of this _Tyrant of the air_, this _God of the world_, this\nterror and aversion of mankind, which we call _Devil_; to shew what he\nIS, and what he IS NOT, where he IS, and where he IS NOT, when he is IN\nUS, and when he IS NOT; for I cannot doubt but that the _Devil_ is\nreally and _bona fide_ in a great many of our honest weak-headed\nfriends, when they themselves know nothing of the matter.\nNor is the work so difficult as some may imagine. The _Devil_'s\n_history_ is not so hard to come at, as it seems to be; His original and\nthe first rise of his family is upon record, and as for his conduct, he\nhas acted indeed in the dark, as to method in many things; but _in\ngeneral_, as cunning as he is, he has been fool enough to expose himself\nin some of the most considerable transactions of his Life, and has not\nshewn himself a politician at all: Our old friend _Matchiavel_ outdid\nhim in many things, and I may in the process of this work give an\naccount of several of the sons of _Adam_, and some societies of 'em too,\nwho have out-witted _the Devil_, nay, who have out-sin'd _the Devil_,\nand that I think may be call'd out-shooting him in his own bow.\nIt may perhaps be expected of me in this history, that since I seem\ninclin'd to speak favourably of _Satan_, to do him justice, and to write\nhis story impartially, I should take some pains to tell you what\nreligion he is of; and even this part may not be so much a jest, as at\nfirst sight you may take it to be; for _Satan_ has something of religion\nin him, I assure you; nor is he such an unprofitable _Devil_ that way,\nas some may suppose him to be; for tho', in reverence to my brethren, I\nwill not reckon him among the Clergy; No not so much as a gifted\nBrother, yet I cannot deny, but that he often preaches, and if it be not\nprofitably to his hearers; 'tis as much their fault, as it is out of his\ndesign.\nIt has indeed been suggested that he has taken orders, and that a\ncertain Pope, famous for being an extraordinary favourite of his, gave\nhim both institution and induction; but as this is not upon record, and\ntherefore we have no authentic document for the probation, I shall not\naffirm it for a truth, for I would not slander the _Devil_.\nIt is said also, and I am apt to believe it, that he was very familiar\nwith that holy father Pope _Silvester_ II. and some charge him with\npersonating Pope _Hildebrand_ on an extraordinary occasion, and himself\nsitting in the chair apostolick, in a full congregation; and you may\nhear more of this hereafter: But as I do not meet with Pope _Diabolus_\namong the list; in all father _Platina_'s lives of the Popes, so I am\nwilling to leave it as I find it.\nBut to speak to the point, and a nice point it is I acknowledge;\n_namely_, what religion _the Devil_ is of; my answer will indeed be\ngeneral, yet not at all ambiguous, for I love to speak positively and\nwith undoubted evidence.\n     1. _He is a believer._ And if in saying so it should follow, that\n     even the _Devil_ has more religion than some of our men of fame can\n     at this time be charged with, I hope my Lord ---- and his Grace the\n     ---- of ---- and some of the upper class in the red-hot club, will\n     not wear the coat, however well it may sit to their shapes, or\n     challenge the Satyr, as if it were pointed at them, because 'tis\n     due to them: In a word, whatever their Lordships are, I can assure\n     them that the _Devil_ is no Infidel.\n     2. _He fears God._ We have such abundant evidence of this in sacred\n     History, that if I were not at present, in common with a few\n     others, talking to an infidel sort of Gentlemen, with whom those\n     remote things call'd Scriptures are not allow'd in evidence, I\n     might say it was sufficiently prov'd; but I doubt not in the\n     process of this undertaking to shew, that _the Devil_ really _fears\n     God_, and that after another manner than ever he fear'd Saint\n     _Frances_ or Saint _Dunstan_; and if that be proved, as I take upon\n     me to advance, I shall leave it to judgment, who's the better\n     Christian, _the Devil_ who _believes_ and _trembles_, or our modern\n     gentry of ---- who believe neither _God nor Devil_.\nHaving thus brought the _Devil_ within the _Pale_, I shall leave him\namong you for the present; not but that I may examine in its order who\nhas the best claim to his brotherhood, the Papists or the Protestants;\nand among the latter the Lutherans or the Calvinists; and so descending\nto all the several denominations of churches, see who has less of _the\nDevil_ in them, and who more; and whether _less_ or _more_ the Devil has\nnot a seat in every synagogue, a pew in every church, a place in every\npulpit, and a vote in every synod; even from the Sanhedrim of the\n_Jews_, to our friends at the _Bull and Mouth_, &c. from the greatest to\nthe least.\nIt will, I confess, come very much within the compass of this part of my\ndiscourse, to give an account, _or at least make an essay toward it_, of\nthe share _the Devil_ has had in the spreading religion in the world;\nand especially of dividing and subdividing opinions in religion;\nperhaps, to eke it out and make it reach the farther; and also to shew\nhow far he is or has made himself a missionary of the famous clan _de\npropaganda fide_; it is true, we find him heartily employ'd in almost\nevery corner of the world _ad propagandum errorem_: But that may require\na history by it self.\nAs to his propagating religion, 'tis a little hard indeed, at first\nsight, to charge _the Devil_ with propagating religion, that is to say,\nif we take it literally, and in the gross; but if you take it as the\n_Scots_ insisted to take the oath of fidelity, _viz._ with an\n_explanation_, it is plain _Satan_ has very often had a share in the\nmethod, if not in the design of propagating the _christian faith_: For\nexample.\nI think I do no injury at all to the Devil, to say that he had a great\nhand in the old _holy war_, as it was ignorantly and enthusiastically\ncall'd; stirring up the christian princes and powers of _Europe_ to run\na madding after the _Turks_ and _Saracens_, and make war with those\ninnocent people above a thousand miles off, only because they entred\ninto God's heritage when he had forsaken it; graz'd upon his ground when\nhe had fairly turn'd it into a common, and laid it open for the next\ncomer; spending their nation's treasure, and embarking their kings and\npeople, (I say) in a war above a thousand miles off, filling their heads\nwith that religious madness, call'd, in those days, _holy zeal_ to\nrecover the _terra sancta_, the sepulchers of Christ and the Saints, and\nas they call'd it falsly, the _holy city_, tho' true religion says it\nwas the accursed city, and not worth spending one drop of blood for.\nThis religious _Bubble_ was certainly of _Satan_, who, as he craftily\ndrew them in, so like a true _Devil_ he left them in the lurch when they\ncame there, fac'd about to the _Saracens_, animated the immortal\n_Saladin_ against them, and manag'd so dexterously that he left the\nbones of about thirteen or fourteen hundred thousand Christians there as\na trophy of his infernal politicks; and after the christian world had\nrun _a la santa terra_, or in _English_ a _saunt'ring_, about a hundred\nyear, he dropt it to play another game less foolish, but ten times\nwickeder than that which went before it, _namely_, turning the crusadoes\nof the Christians one against another; and, as _Hudibras_ said in\nanother case,\n  \"Made them fight like mad or drunk\n  \"For dame religion as for punk.\nOf this you have a compleat account in the history of the Popes decrees\nagainst the Count _de Thoulouse_, and the _Waldenses_ and _Albigenses_,\nwith the crusadoes and massacres which follow'd upon them, wherein to do\n_the Devil_'s politicks some justice, he met with all the success he\ncould desire; the zealots of that day executed his infernal orders most\npunctually, and planted religion in those countries in a glorious and\ntriumphant manner, upon the destruction of an infinite number of\ninnocent people, whose blood has fatten'd the soil for the growth of the\nCatholick faith, in a manner very particular, and to Satan's full\nsatisfaction.\nI might, to compleat this part of his history, give you the detail of\nhis progress in these first steps of his alliances with _Rome_; and add\na long list of massacres, wars, and expeditions in behalf of religion,\nwhich he has had the honour to have a visible hand in; such as the\n_Parisian_ massacre, the _Flemish_ war under the Duke _d' Alva_, the\n_Smithfield_ fires in the _Marian days_ in _England_, and the massacres\nin _Ireland_; all which would most effectually convince us that _the\nDevil_ has not been idle in his business; but I may meet with these\nagain in my way, 'tis enough, while I am upon the generals only, to\nmention them thus in a summary way; I say, 'tis enough to prove that\n_the Devil_ has really been as much concerned as any body, in the\nmethods taken by some people for propagating the christian religion in\nthe world.\nSome have rashly, and I had almost said maliciously charg'd _the Devil_\nwith the great triumphs of his friends the _Spaniards_ in _America_, and\nwould place the conquest of _Mexico_ and _Peru_ to the credit of his\naccount.\nBut I cannot join with them in this at all, I must say, I believe _the\nDevil_ was innocent of that matter; my reason is, because, _Satan_ was\nnever such a fool as to spend his time, or his politicks, or embark his\nallies to conquer nations who were already his own; that would be\n_Satan_ against _Beelzebub_, making war upon himself, and at least doing\nnothing to the purpose.\nIf they should charge him, indeed, with deluding _Philip_ II. of _Spain_\ninto that preposterous attempt call'd _the Armada_, (_anglice_, the\n_Spanish Invasion_,) I should indeed more readily join with them; but\nwhether he did it weakly, in hope, _which was indeed not likely_, that\nit should succeed; or wickedly, to destroy that great fleet of the\n_Spaniards_, and draw them within the reach of his own dominions, the\nelements; this being a question which authors differ exceedingly about,\nI shall leave it to decide it self.\nBut the greatest piece of management, which we find _the Devil_ has\nconcern'd himself in of late, in the matter of religion, seems to be\nthat of the mission into _China_; and here indeed _Satan_ has acted his\nmaster-piece: It was, no doubt, much for his service that _the Chineses_\nshould have no insight into matters of religion, I mean, that we call\nchristian; and therefore, tho' _Popery_ and the _Devil_ are not at so\nmuch variance as some may imagine, yet he did not think it safe to let\nthe general system of Christianity be heard of among them in _China_.\nHence when the name of the christian religion had but been received with\nsome seeming approbation in the country of _Japan_, _Satan_ immediately,\nas if alarm'd at the thing, and dreading what the consequence of it\nmight be, arm'd the _Japoneses_ against it with such fury, that they\nexpell'd it at once.\nIt was much safer to his designs, when, if the story be not a fiction,\nhe put that _Dutch_ witicism into the mouths of the States commanders,\nwhen they came to _Japan_; who having more wit than to own themselves\nChristians in such a place as that, when the question was put to them,\nanswered negatively, _That they were not_, but that _they were of\nanother religion call'd_ Hollanders.\nHowever, it seems the diligent _Jesuits_ out-witted the Devil in\n_China_, and, as I said above, over-shot him in his own Bow; for the\nmission being in danger _by the Devil and the_ Chinese _Emperor_'s\n_joining together_, of being wholly expell'd there too, as they had been\nin _Japan_, they cunningly fell in with the ecclesiasticks of the\ncountry, and joining the priestcraft of both religions together, they\nbrought _Jesus Christ_ and _Confucius_ to be so reconcilable, that the\n_Chinese_ and the _Roman_ idolatry appeared capable of a confederacy, of\ngoing on hand in hand together, and consequently of being very good\nfriends.\nThis was a master-piece indeed, and, _as they say_, almost frighted\n_Satan_ out of his wits; but he being a ready manager, and particularly\nfamous for serving himself of the rogueries of the priests, fac'd about\nimmediately to the mission, and making a virtue of necessity, clapt in,\nwith all possible alacrity, with the proposal[1]; so the _Jesuits_ and\nhe form'd a _hotch-potch_ of _religion_ made up of _Popery_ and _Paganism_\nand calculated to leave the latter rather worse than they found it,\nbinding the faith of Christ and the philosophy or morals of _Confucius_\ntogether, and formally christening them by the name of _religion_; by\nwhich means the politick interest of the mission was preserved; and yet\n_Satan_ lost not one inch of ground with the _Chineses_, no, not by the\nplanting the Gospel it self, _such as it was_, among them.\nNor has it been such disadvantage to him that this plan or scheme of a\nnew modell'd religion would not go down at _Rome_, and that the\nInquisition damn'd it with Bell, Book and Candle; distance of place\nserv'd his new allies, the missionaries, in the stead of a protection\nfrom the Inquisition; and now and then a rich present well plac'd found\nthem friends in the congregation it self; and where any Nuncio with his\nimpudent zeal pretended to take such a long voyage to oppose them,\n_Satan_ took care to get him sent back _re infecta_, or inspir'd the\nmillion to move him off the premisses, by methods of their own (that is\nto say, being interpreted) to _murther him_.\nThus the mission has in itself been truly _devilish_, and the Devil has\ninterested himself in the planting the christian religion in _China_.\nThe influence _the Devil_ has in the Politicks of mankind, is another\nespecial part of his history, and would require, if it were possible, a\nvery exact description; but here we shall necessarily be obliged to\ninquire so nicely into the Arcana of circumstances, and unlock the\ncabinets of state in so many courts, canvass the councils of ministers\nand the conduct of princes so fully, and expose them so much, that it\nmay, perhaps, make a combustion among the great politicians abroad; and\nin doing that we may come so near home too, that tho' personal safety\nand prudentials forbid our medling with our own country, we may be taken\nin a double entendre, and fall unpitied for being only suspected of\ntouching truths that are so tender, whether we are guilty or no; on\nthese accounts I must meddle the less with that part, at least for the\npresent.\nBe it that the Devil has had a share in some of the late councils of\n_Europe_, influencing them this way or that way, to his own advantage,\nwhat is it to us? For example, What if he has had any concern in the\nlate affair of _Thorn_? What need we put it upon him, seeing his\nconfederates the _Jesuites_ with the _Assessorial_ tribunal of _Poland_\ntake it upon themselves? I shall leave that part to the issue of time. I\nwish it were as easy to persuade the world that he had no hand in\nbringing the injur'd Protestants to leave the justice due to the cries\nof protestant blood to the arbitrament of a popish power, who dare say\nthat _the Devil_ must be in it, if justice should be obtain'd that way:\nI should rather say, _the Devil_ is in it, or else it would never be\nexpected.\nIt occurs next to enquire from the premisses, whether _the Devil_ has\nmore influence or less in the affairs of the world now, than he had in\nformer ages; and this will depend upon comparing, as we go along, his\nmethods and way of working in past times, and the modern politicks by\nwhich he acts in our days; with the differing reception which he has met\nwith among the men of such distant ages.\nBut there is so much to enquire of about _the Devil_, before we can\nbring his story down to our modern times, that we must for the present\nlet them drop, and look a little back to the remoter parts of this\nhistory; drawing his picture that people may know him when they meet\nhim, and see who and what he is, and what he has been doing ever since\nhe got leave to act in the high station he now appears in.\nIn the mean time, if I might obtain leave to present an humble petition\nto _Satan_, it should be, that he would according to modern usage oblige\nus all, with writing _the history of his own times_; 'twould, as well as\none that is gone before it, be a Devilish good one; for as to the\nsincerity of the performance, the authority of the particulars, the\njustice of the characters, _&c._ if they were no better vouch'd, no more\nconsistent with themselves, with charity, with truth, and with the\nhonour of an historian, than the last of that kind which came abroad\namong us, it must be a reproach to _the Devil_ himself to be the author\nof it.\nWere _Satan_ to be brought under the least obligation to write truth,\nand that the matters of fact, which he should write, might be depended\nupon, he is certainly qualified by his knowledge of things to be a\ncompleat historian; nor could the Bishop himself, _who, by the way, has\ngiven us already the Devil of a history_, come up to him: _Milton_'s\n_Pandemonium_, tho' an excellent dramatick performance, would appear a\nmeer trifling sing-song business, beneath the dignity of _Chevy-chase_:\nThe _Devil_ could give us a true account of all the civil wars in\nHeaven; how and by whom, and in what manner he lost the day there, and\nwas oblig'd to quit the field: The fiction of his refusing to\nacknowledge and submit to the _Messiah_, upon his being declar'd\nGeneralissimo of the Heavenly forces, which Satan expected himself, as\nthe eldest officer; and his not being able to brook another to be put in\nover his head; I say, that fine-spun thought of Mr. _Milton_ would\nappear to be strain'd too far, and only serve to convince us that he\n(_Milton_) knew nothing of the matter. _Satan_ knows very well, that the\n_Messiah_ was not _declared to be the Son of God with power_ till by and\nafter _the resurrection from the dead_, and that all power was then\ngiven him _in Heaven and earth_, and not before; so that _Satan_'s\nrebellion must derive from other causes, and upon other occasions, as he\nhimself can doubtless give us an account, if he thinks fit, and of which\nwe shall speak further in this work.\nWhat a fine History might this old Gentleman write of the Antediluvian\nworld, and of all the weighty affairs, as well of state as of religion,\nwhich happen'd during the fifteen hundred years of the patriarchal\nadministration!\nWho, like him, could give a full and compleat account of the Deluge,\nwhether it was a meer vindictive, a blast from Heaven, wrought by a\nsupernatural power in the way of miracle? or whether, according to Mr.\n_Burnet_'s _Theory_, it was a consequence following antecedent causes by\nthe meer necessity of nature; seen in constitution, natural position,\nand unavoidable working of things, as by the Theory publish'd by that\nlearn'd enthusiast it seems to be?\n_Satan_ could easily account for all the difficulties of the _Theory_,\nand tell us whether, as there was a natural necessity of the Deluge,\nthere is not the like necessity and natural tendency to a Conflagration\nat last.\nWould _the Devil_ exert himself as an Historian, for our improvement and\ndiversion, how glorious an account could he give us of _Noah_'s Voyage\nround the world, in the famous Ark! he could resolve all the\ndifficulties about the building it, the furnishing it, and the laying up\nprovision in it for all the collection of kinds that he had made; He\ncould tell us whether all the creatures came voluntier to him to go into\nthe ark, or whether he went a hunting for several years before, in order\nto bring them together.\nHe could give us a true relation how he wheedled the people of the next\nworld into the absurd ridiculous undertaking of building a _Babel_; how\nfar that stupendous stair-case, which was in imagination to reach up to\nHeaven, was carried, before it was interrupted and the builders\nconfounded; how their speech was alter'd, how many Tongues it was\ndivided into, or whether they were divided at all; and how many\nsubdivisions or dialects have been made since that, by which means very\nfew of God's creatures, except the Brutes, understand one another, or\ncare one farthing whether they do or no.\nIn all these things _Satan_, who, no doubt, would make a very good\nchronologist, could settle every Epocha, correct every Calendar, and\nbring all our accounts of time to a general agreement; as well the\n_Grecian Olympiads_, the _Turkish Heghira_, the _Chinese_ fictitious\naccount of the world's duration, as our blind _Julian_ and _Gregorian_\naccounts, which have put the world, to this day, into such confusion,\nthat we neither agree in our holy-days or working days, fasts or feasts,\nnor keep the same sabbaths in any part of the same globe.\nThis great Antiquary could bring us to a certainty in all the\ndifficulties of ancient story, and tell us whether the tale of the siege\nof _Troy_, and the rape of _Helen_ was a fable of _Homer_ or a history;\nwhether the fictions of the Poets are form'd from their own brain, or\nfounded in facts; and whether letters were invented by _Cadmus_ the\n_Phoenician_, or dictated immediately from _Heaven_ at mount _Sinai_.\nNay, he could tell us how and in what manner he wheedled _Eve_, deluded\n_Adam_, put _Cain_ into a passion, till he made him murther his own\nbrother; and made _Noah_, who was above 500 years a preacher of\nrighteousness, turn Sot in his old age, dishonour all his ministry,\ndebauch himself with wine, and by getting drunk and exposing himself,\nbecome the jest and laughing-stock of his children, and of all his\nposterity to this day.\nAnd would Satan, according to the modern practice of the late right\nreverend Historian, enter into the characters of the great men of his\nage, how should we be diverted with the just history of _Adam_, in\nparadise and out of it; his character, and how he behaved at and after\nhis expulsion; how _Cain_ wandered in the land of _Nod_, what the mark\nwas which _God_ set upon him, whose daughter his wife was, and how big\nthe city was he built there, according to a certain Poet of noble\nextraction,\n  How _Cain_ in the land of _Nod_\n    When the rascal was alone\n  Like an owl in an ivy tod\n    Built a city as big as _Roan_.\n  _Roch._\nHe could have certainly drawn _Eve_'s picture, told us every feature in\nher face, and every inch in her shape, whether she was a perfect beauty\nor no, and whether with the fall she did grow crooked, ugly, ill-natur'd\nand a scold; as the learned _Valdemar_ suggests to be the effects of the\ncurse.\nDescending to the character of the Patriarchs in that age, he might, no\ndoubt, give us in particular the characters of _Belus_, worship'd under\nthe name of _Baal_; with _Satan_, and _Jupiter_, his successors; who\nthey were here, and how they behaved; with all the _Pharaohs_ of\n_Egypt_, the _Abimilechs_ of _Canaan_, and the great monarchs of\n_Assyria_ and _Babylon_.\nHence also he is able to write the lives of all the Heroes of the world,\nfrom _Alexander_ of _Macedon_ to _Lewis_ the XIV. and from _Augustus_ to\nthe great King _George_; nor could the Bishop himself go beyond him for\nflattery, any more than the Devil himself could go beyond the Bishop for\nfalshood.\nI could enlarge with a particular satisfaction upon the many fine things\nwhich _Satan_, rummaging his inexhaustible storehouse of slander, could\nset down to blacken the characters of good men, and load the best\nPrinces of the world with infamy and reproach.\nBut we shall never prevail with him, I doubt, to do mankind so much\nservice, as resolving all those difficulties would be; for he has an\nindelible grudge against us; as he believes, and perhaps is assur'd that\nmen were at first created by his sovereign, to the intent that after a\ncertain state of Probation in life, such of them as shall be approved,\nare appointed to fill up those vacancies in the Heavenly Host, which\nwere made by the abdication and expulsion of him (_the Devil_) and his\nAngels; so that man is appointed to come in _Satan_'s stead, to make\ngood the breach, and enjoy all those ineffable Joys and Beatitudes which\n_Satan_ enjoy'd before his fall; no wonder then, that _the Devil_ swells\nwith envy and rage at mankind in general, and at the best of them in\nparticular; nay, the granting this point is giving an unanswerable\nreason, why the _Devil_ practises with such unwearied and indefatigable\napplication upon the best men, if possible, to disappoint GOD\nAlmighty's decree, and that he should not find enough among the whole\nRace, to be proper subjects of his clemency, and qualified to succeed\n_the Devil_ and his host, or fill up the places vacant by the Fall. It\nis true indeed, _the Devil_, who we have reason to say is no fool, ought\nto know better than to suppose that if he should seduce the whole race\nof mankind, and make them as bad as himself, he could, by that success\nof his wickedness, thwart or disappoint the determined purposes of\nHeaven; but that those which are appointed to inherit the Thrones, which\nhe and his followers abdicated, and were deposed from, shall certainly\nbe preserv'd in spite of his Devices for that inheritance, and shall\nhave the possession secur'd to them, notwithstanding all that _the\nDevil_ and all the Host of _Hell_ can do to prevent it.\nBut, however he knows the certainty of this, and that when he endeavours\nthe seducing the chosen servants of the most High, he fights against GOD\nhimself, struggles with irresistible grace, and makes war with infinite\npower; undermining the church of God, and that faith in him which is\nfortified with the eternal promises of Jesus Christ, that the gates of\n_Hell_, that is to say, the _Devil_ and all his power, shall not prevail\nagainst them; I say, however he knows the impossibility there is that he\nshould obtain his ends, yet so blind is his rage, so infatuate his\nwisdom, that he cannot refrain breaking himself to pieces against this\nmountain, and splitting against the rock. _qui Jupiter vult perdere hos\ndementat._\nBut to leave this serious part, which is a little too solemn, for the\naccount of this rebel; seeing we are not to expect he will write his own\nHistory for our information and diversion, I shall see if I cannot write\nit for him: In order to this, I shall extract the substance of his\nwhole story, from the beginning to our own times, which I shall collect\nout of what is come to hand, whether by revelation or inspiration,\nthat's nothing to him; I shall take care so to improve my intelligence,\nas may make my account of him authentick, and, _in a word_, such as the\nDevil himself shall not be able to contradict.\nIn writing this uncouth story I shall be freed from the censures of the\nCriticks, in a more than ordinary manner, upon one account especially;\n(_viz._) that my story shall be so just and so well grounded, and, after\nall the good things I shall say of _Satan_, will be so little to his\nsatisfaction, that _the Devil_ himself will not be able to say, I _dealt\nwith the Devil_ in writing it: I might, perhaps, give you some account\nwhere I had my intelligence, and how all the Arcana of his management\nhave come to my hands; _but pardon me, Gentlemen_, this would be to\nbetray conversation, and to discover my agents, and you know statesmen\nare very careful to preserve the correspondences they keep in the\nenemy's country, lest they expose their friends to the resentment of the\nPower whose councils they betray.\nBesides, the learned tell us, that ministers of state make an excellent\nplea of their not betraying their intelligence, against all party\ninquiries into the great sums of money pretended to be paid for _secret\nservice_; and whether the secret service was to bribe people to betray\nthings abroad or at home; whether the money was paid to some body or to\nno body, employ'd to establish correspondences abroad, or to establish\nfamilies and amass treasure at home; in a word, whether it was to serve\ntheir country or serve themselves, it has been the same thing, and the\nsame plea has been their protection: Likewise in the important affair\nwhich I am upon, 'tis hoped you will not desire me to betray my\nCorrespondents; for you know _Satan_ is naturally cruel and malicious,\nand who knows what he might do to shew his resentment? at least it might\nendanger a stop of our intelligence for the future.\nAnd yet, before I have done, I shall make it very plain, that however my\ninformation may be secret and difficult, that yet I came very honestly\nby it, and shall make a very good use of it; for 'tis a great mistake in\nthose who think that an acquaintance with the affairs of _the Devil_ may\nnot be made very useful to us all: They that know no evil can know no\ngood; and, as the learned tell us, that a stone taken out of the head of\na Toad is a good antidote against poison; so a competent knowledge of\n_the Devil_, and all his ways, may be the best help to make us defie\n_the Devil_ and all his _works_.\nCHAP. II.\n_Of the word_ DEVIL, _as it is a proper name to the Devil, and any or all\n     his host, Angels,_ &c.\nIt is a question, not yet determined by the learned, whether the word\n_Devil_ be a _singular_, that is to say, the _name_ of a person standing\nby himself, or a _noun of multitude_; if it be a singular, and so must\nbe used personally only as _a proper name_, it consequently implies one\nimperial _Devil_, Monarch or King of the whole clan of Hell; justly\ndistinguish'd by the term THE DEVIL, or as the _Scots_ call him, _the\nmuckle horn'd Dee'l_, or as others in a wilder dialect, _the Devil of\nHell_, that is to say, the _Devil_ of a _Devil_; or (better still) as\nthe Scripture expresses it, by way of emphasis, the _great red Dragon_,\nthe _Devil_ and _Satan_.\nBut if we take this word to be, as above, _a noun of multitude_, and so\nto be used _ambo-dexter_, as occasion presents, singular or plural; then\n_the Devil_ signifies _Satan_ by himself, or _Satan with all his\nLegions_ at his heels, as you please, more or less; and this way of\nunderstanding the word, as it may be very convenient for my purpose, in\nthe account I am now to give of the infernal Powers, so it is not\naltogether improper in the nature of the thing: It is thus express'd in\nScripture, where the person possess'd _Matt._ iv. 24. is first said to\nbe possess'd of _the Devil_ (singular) and our Saviour asks him, as\nspeaking to a single person, _what is thy name?_ and is answer'd in the\nplural and singular together, my name is LEGION, for _we are many_.\nNor will it be any wrong to _the Devil_, supposing him a single person,\nseeing entitling him to the conduct of all his inferior Agents, is what\nhe will take rather for an addition to his infernal glory, than a\ndiminution or lessening of him in the extent of his Fame.\nHaving thus articl'd with the _Devil_ for liberty of speech, I shall\ntalk of him sometimes in the singular, as a person, and sometimes in the\nplural, as an host of _Devils_ or of infernal Spirits, just as occasion\nrequires, and as the history of his affairs makes necessary.\nBut before I enter upon any part of his history, the nature of the thing\ncalls me back, and my Lord B---- of ---- in his late famous orations in\ndefence of liberty, summons me to prove that there is such a thing or\nsuch a person as _the Devil_; and in short, unless I can give some\nevidence of his existence, as my Lord ---- said very well, I am talking\nof _nobody_.\nD--m me, Sir, says a graceless comrade of his to a great man, _your\nGrace_ will go to _the Devil_.\nD--m ye, Sir, says the D----, then I shall go _no where_; I wonder where\nyou intend to go?\nNay, to _the D----l_ too I doubt, _says Graceless_, for I am almost as\nwicked as my _Lord Duke_.\n_D._ Thou ar't a silly empty Dog, says the D--, and if there is such a\nplace as _a Hell_, tho' I believe nothing of it, 'tis a place for fools,\nsuch as thou art.\n_Gr._ I wonder then, what Heaven the great wits go to, such as my _Lord\nDuke_; I don't care to go there, let it be where it will; they are a\ntiresome kind of people, there's no bearing them, they'll make _a Hell_\nwherever they come.\n_D._ Prithee hold thy fool's tongue, I tell thee, if there is any such\nplace as we call NO WHERE; that's all the Heaven or Hell that I know of,\nor believe any thing about.\n_Gr._ Very good, my Lord--; so that _Heaven_ is _no where_, and\n_Hell_ is _no where_, and the _Devil_ is _nobody_, according to my _Lord\nDuke_!\n_D._ Yes Sir, and what then?\n_Gr._ And you are to go _no where_ when you die, are you?\n_D._ Yes, you Dog, don't you know what that incomparable noble genius my\nLord _Rochester_ sings upon the subject, I believe it unfeignedly,\n  After death nothing is,\n    And nothing death.\n_Gr._ You believe it, my Lord, you mean, you would fain believe it if\nyou could; but since you put that great genius my Lord _Rochester_ upon\nme, let me play him back upon _your Grace_; I am sure you have read his\nfine poem upon _nothing_, in one of the stanzas of which is this\nbeautiful thought,\n  And to be part of [2] thee\n    The wicked wisely pray.\n_D._ You are a foolish Dog.\n_Gr._ And my _Lord Duke_ is a wise Infidel.\n_D._ Why? is it not wiser to believe _no Devil_, than to be always\nterrify'd at him?\n_Gr._ But shall I toss another Poet upon you, my Lord?\n  If it should so fall out, as who can tell\n  But there may be a GOD, a _Heaven_ and _Hell_?\n  Mankind had best consider well, for fear\n  'T should be too late when their mistakes appear.\n_D._ D--m your foolish Poet, that's not my Lord _Rochester_.\n_Gr._ But how must I be damn'd, if there's _no Devil_? Is not _your\nGrace_ a little inconsistent there? My Lord _Rochester_ would not have\nsaid that, and't please your Grace.\n_D._ No, _you Dog_, I am not inconsistent at all, and if I had the\nordering of you, I'd make you sensible of it; I'd make you think your\nself damn'd for want of _a Devil_.\n_Gr._ That's like one of _your Grace_'s paradoxes, such as when you\nswore _by God_ that you did not believe there was any such thing as _a\nGod_, or _Devil_; so you swear by _nothing_, and damn me to _no where_.\n_D._ You are a critical Dog, who taught you to believe these solemn\ntrifles? who taught you to say there is a GOD?\n_Gr._ Nay, I had a better school-master than my _Lord Duke_.\n_D._ Why, who was your school-master pray?\n_Gr._ _The Devil_, and't please your _Grace_.\n_D._ The Devil! _the Devil he did?_ what you're going to quote\nScripture, are you? Prithee don't tell me of _Scripture_, I know what\nyou mean, _the Devils believe and tremble_; why then I have the\nwhip-hand of _the Devil_, for I hate trembling; and I am deliver'd from\nit effectually, for I never believed any thing of it, and therefore I\ndon't tremble.\n_Gr._ And there, indeed, I am a wickeder creature than the _Devil_, or\neven than my _Lord Duke_, for I believe, and yet don't tremble neither.\n_D._ Nay, if you are come to your penitentials I have done with you.\n_Gr._ And I think I must have done with my _Lord Duke_, for the same\nreason.\n_D._ _Ay, ay_, pray do, I'll go and enjoy my self; I won't throw away\nthe pleasure of my life, I know the consequence of it.\n_Gr._ And I'll go and reform my self, else I know the consequence too.\nThis short Dialogue happen'd between two men of quality, and both men of\nwit too; and the effect was, that the Lord brought the reality of _the\nDevil_ into the question, and the debate brought the profligate to be a\npenitent; so in short, _the Devil_ was made a preacher of repentance.\nThe Truth is, _God_ and _the Devil_, however opposite in their nature,\nand remote from one another in their place of abiding, seem to stand\npretty much upon a level in our faith: For as to our believing the\nreality of their existence, he that denies one, generally denies both;\nand he that believes one, necessarily believes both.\nVery few, if any of those who believe there is a GOD, and acknowledge\nthe debt of homage which mankind owes to the supreme Governor of the\nWorld, doubt the existence of _the Devil_, except here and there one,\nwhom we call practical Atheists; and 'tis the character of an Atheist,\nif there is such a creature on Earth, that like my _Lord Duke_, he\nbelieves neither GOD or _Devil_.\nAs the belief of both these stands upon a level, and that GOD and the\n_Devil_ seem to have an equal share in our faith, so the evidence of\ntheir existence seems to stand upon a level too, in many things; and as\nthey are known by their Works in the same particular cases, so they are\ndiscover'd after the same manner of demonstration.\nNay, in some respects 'tis equally criminal to deny the reality of them\nboth, only with this difference, that to believe the existence of a GOD\nis a debt to nature, and to believe the existence of _the Devil_ is a\nlike debt to reason; one is a demonstration from the reality of visible\ncauses, and the other a deduction from the like reality of their\neffects.\nOne demonstration of the existence of GOD, is from the universal\nwell-guided consent of all nations to worship and adore a supreme Power;\nOne demonstration of the existence of the _Devil_, is from the avow'd\nill-guided consent of some nations, who knowing no other GOD, make a GOD\nof the _Devil_, for want of a better.\nIt may be true, that those nations have no other Ideas of the Devil than\nas of a superior Power; if they thought him a supreme Power it would\nhave other effects on them, and they would submit to and worship him\nwith a different kind of fear.\nBut 'tis plain they have right notions of him as a Devil or evil Spirit,\nbecause the best reason, and in some places the only reason they give\nfor worshiping him is, that he may do them no hurt; having no notions at\nall of his having any power, much less any inclination to do them good;\nso that indeed they make a meer _Devil_ of him, at the same time that\nthey bow to him as to a GOD.\nAll the ages of Paganism in the World have had this notion of _the\nDevil_: indeed in some parts of the World they had also some Deities\nwhich they honour'd above him, as being supposed to be beneficent, kind\nand inclined, as well as capable to give them good things; for this\nreason the more polite Heathens, such as the _Grecians_ and the\n_Romans_, had their _Lares_ or houshold Gods, whom they paid a\nparticular respect to; as being their Protectors from Hobgoblins, Ghosts\nof the Dead, evil Spirits, frightful Appearances, evil Genius's and\nother noxious Beings from the invisible World; or to put it into the\nlanguage of the day we live in, from _the Devil_, in whatever shape or\nappearance he might come to them, and from whatever might hurt them: and\nwhat was all this but setting up _Devils_ against _Devils_, supplicating\none _Devil_ under the notion of a good Spirit, to drive out and protect\nthem from another, whom they call'd a bad Spirit, the white _Devil_\nagainst the black _Devil_?\nThis proceeds from the natural notions mankind necessarily entertain of\nthings to come; _superior_ or _inferior_, GOD and the _Devil_, fill up\nall futurity in our thoughts; and 'tis impossible for us to form any\nimages in our minds of an immortality and an invisible World, but under\nthe notions of perfect felicity, or extreme misery.\nNow as these two respect the Eternal state of man after life, they are\nrespectively the object of our reverence and affection, or of our\nhorror and aversion; but notwithstanding they are plac'd thus in a\ndiametrical opposition in our affections and passions, they are on an\nevident level as to the certainty of their existence, and, as I said\nabove, bear an equal share in our faith.\nIt being then as certain that there is _a Devil_, as that there is _a\nGod_, I must from this time forward admit no more doubt of his\nexistence, nor take any more pains to convince you of it; but speaking\nof him as a reality in Being, proceed to enquire who he is, and from\nwhence, in order to enter directly into the detail of his History.\nNow not to enter into all the metaphysical trumpery of his Schools, nor\nwholly to confine my self to the language of the Pulpit; where we are\ntold, that to think of GOD and of the _Devil_, we must endeavour first\nto form Ideas of those things which illustrate the description of\nrewards and punishments; in the one the eternal presence of the highest\ngood, and, as a necessary attendant, the most perfect, consummate,\ndurable bliss and felicity, springing from the presence of that Being in\nwhom all possible Beatitude is inexpressibly present, and that in the\nhighest perfection: On the contrary, to conceive of a sublime fallen\nArch-angel, attended with an innumerable host of degenerate, rebel\nSeraphs or Angels cast out of Heaven together; all guilty of\ninexpressible rebellion, and all suffering from that time, and to suffer\nfor ever the eternal vengeance of the Almighty, in an inconceivable\nmanner; that his presence, tho' blessed in it self, is to them the most\ncompleat article of terror; That they are in themselves perfectly\nmiserable; and to be with whom for ever, adds an inexpressible misery to\nany state as well as place; and fills the minds of those who are to be,\nor expect to be banish'd to them with inconceivable horror and\namazement.\nBut when you have gone over all this, and a great deal more of the like,\ntho' less intelligible language, which the passions of men collect to\namuse one another with; you have said nothing if you omit the main\narticle, namely, the personality of _the Devil_; and till you add to all\nthe rest some description of the company with whom all this is to be\nsuffer'd, _viz._ the _Devil and his Angels_.\nNow who this _Devil and his Angels_ are, what share they have either\nactively or passively in the eternal miseries of a future state, how far\nthey are Agents in or Partners with the sufferings of the place, is a\ndifficulty yet not fully discover'd by the most learned; nor do I\nbelieve 'tis made less a difficulty by their medling with it.\nBut to come to the person and original of _the Devil_, or, as I said\nbefore, of _Devils_; I allow him to come of an ancient family, for he is\nfrom Heaven, and more truly than the _Romans_ could say of their\nidoliz'd _Numa_, he is of the race of the Gods.\nThat _Satan_ is a fallen Angel, a rebel Seraph, cast out for his\nRebellion, is the general opinion, and 'tis not my business to dispute\nthings universally receiv'd; as he was try'd, condemn'd, and the\nsentence of expulsion executed on him in Heaven, he is in this World\nlike a transported Felon never to return; His crime, whatever particular\naggravations it might have, 'tis certain, amounted to High-treason\nagainst his Lord and Governor, who was also his Maker; against whom he\nrose in rebellion, took up arms, and in a word, rais'd a horrid and\nunnatural war in his dominions; but being overcome in battle, and made\nprisoner, he and all his Host, whose numbers were infinite, all\nglorious Angels like himself, lost at once their beauty and glory with\ntheir Innocence, and commenc'd _Devils_, being transform'd by crime into\nmonsters and frightful objects; such as to describe, human fancy is\nobliged to draw pictures and descriptions in such forms as are most\nhateful and frightful to the imagination.\nThese notions, I doubt not, gave birth to all the beauteous Images and\nsublime expressions in Mr. _Milton_'s majestick Poem; where, tho' he has\nplay'd the Poet in a most luxuriant manner, he has sinn'd against\n_Satan_ most egregiously, and done the _Devil_ a manifest injury in a\ngreat many particulars, as I shall shew in its place. And as I shall be\noblig'd to do _Satan_ justice when I come to that part of his History,\nMr. _Milton_'s admirers must pardon me, if I let them see, that tho' I\nadmire Mr. _Milton_ as a Poet, yet that he was greatly out in matters of\nHistory, and especially the History of the _Devil_; in short, That he\nhas charged _Satan_ falsly in several particulars; and so he has _Adam_\nand _Eve_ too: But that I shall leave till I come to the History of the\nRoyal Family of _Eden_; which I resolve to present you with when the\n_Devil_ and I have done with one another.\nBut not to run down Mr. _Milton_ neither, whose poetry, or his judgment,\ncannot be reproached without injury to our own; all those bright Ideas\nof his, which make his poem so justly valued, whether they are capable\nof proof as to the fact, are notwithstanding, confirmations of my\nhypothesis; and are taken from a supposition of the Personality of the\n_Devil_, placing him at the head of the infernal host, as a sovereign\nelevated Spirit and Monarch of Hell; and as such it is that I undertake\nto write his history.\nBy the word Hell I do not suppose, or at least not determine, that his\nresidence, or that of the whole army of _Devils_, is yet in the same\nlocal HELL, to which the Divines tell us he shall be at last chain'd\ndown; or at least that he is yet confin'd to it, for we shall find he is\nat present a prisoner at large: of both which circumstances of Satan I\nshall take occasion to speak in its course.\nBut when I call the Devil the Monarch of _Hell_, I am to be understood\nas suits to the present purpose; that he is the Sovereign of all the\nrace of Hell, that is to say of all the Devils or Spirits of the\ninfernal Clan, let their numbers, quality and powers be what they will.\nUpon this supposed personality and superiority of _Satan_, or, as I call\nit, the sovereignty and government of one Devil above all the rest; I\nsay, upon this notion are form'd all the systems of the dark side of\nfuturity, that we can form in our minds: And so general is the opinion\nof it, that it will hardly bear to be oppos'd by any other argument, at\nleast that will bear to be reason'd upon: All the notions of a parity of\nDevils, or making a common-wealth among the black Divan, seem to be\nenthusiastick and visionary, but with no consistency or certainty, and\nis so generally exploded, that we must not venture so much as to debate\nthe point.\nTaking it then as the generality of mankind do, that there is a Grand\nDevil, a superior of the whole black race; that they all fell, together\nwith their General, _Satan_, at the head of them; that tho' he, _Satan_,\ncould not maintain his high station in Heaven, yet that he did continue\nhis dignity among the rest, who are call'd his servants, _in Scripture\nhis Angels_; that he has a kind of dominion or authority over the rest,\nand that they were all, how many millions soever in number, at his\ncommand; employ'd by him in all his hellish designs, and in all his\nwicked contrivances for the destruction of man, and for the setting up\nhis own kingdom in the world.\nSupposing then that there is such a superior Master-Devil over all the\nrest, it remains that we enquire into his character, and something of\nhis History; in which, tho' we cannot perhaps produce such authentick\ndocuments as in the story of other great Monarchs, Tyrants, and Furies\nof the World; yet I shall endeavour to speak some things which the\nexperience of mankind may be apt to confirm, and which the Devil himself\nwill hardly be able to contradict.\nIt being then granted that there is such a thing or person, call him\nwhich we will, as a Master-Devil; that he is thus superior to all the\nrest in power and in authority, and that all the other evil Spirits are\nhis Angels, or Ministers, or Officers to execute his commands, and are\nemploy'd in his business; it remains to enquire, whence he came? how he\ngot hither, into this World? what that business is which he is employ'd\nabout? what his present state is, and where and to what part of the\ncreation of God he is limited and restrained? what the liberties are he\ntakes or is allow'd to take? in what manner he works, and how his\ninstruments are likewise allow'd to work? what he has done ever since he\ncommenc'd Devil, what he is now doing, and what he may yet do before his\nlast and closer confinement? as also what he cannot do, and how far we\nmay or may not be said to be exposed to him, or have or have not reason\nto be afraid of him? These, and whatever else occurs in the History and\nconduct of this Arch-devil and his Agents, that may be useful for\ninformation, caution, or diversion, you may expect in the process of\nthis work.\nI know it has been question'd by some, with more face than fear, how it\nconsists with a compleat victory of the Devil, which they say was at\nfirst obtained by the Heavenly Powers over _Satan_ and his apostate army\nin _Heaven_, that when he was cast out of his holy place, and dash'd\ndown into the abyss of eternal darkness, as into a place of punishment,\na condemn'd hold, or place of confinement, to be reserved there to the\njudgment of the great Day; _I say_, how it consists with that entire\nvictory, to let him loose again, and give him liberty, like a thief that\nhas broken prison, to range about God's creation, and there to continue\nhis rebellion, commit new ravages, and acts of hostility against God,\nmake new efforts at dethroning the almighty Creator; and in particular\nto fall upon the weakest of his creatures, MAN? how _Satan_ being so\nentirely vanquish'd, he should be permitted to recover any of his wicked\npowers, and find room to do mischief to mankind.\nNay they go farther, and suggest bold things against the wisdom of\nHeaven, in exposing mankind, weak in comparison of the immense extent of\nthe _Devil_'s power, to so manifest an overthrow, to so unequal a fight,\nin which he is sure, if alone in the conflict, to be worsted; to leave\nhim such a dreadful enemy to engage with, and so ill furnish'd with\nweapons to assist him.\nThese objections I shall give as good an answer to as the case will\nadmit in this course, but must adjourn them for the present.\nThat the Devil is not yet a close prisoner, we have evidence enough to\nconfirm; I will not suggest, that like our _Newgate_ Thieves, (to bring\nlittle Devils and great Devils together) he is let out by connivance,\nand has some little latitudes and advantages for mischief, by that\nmeans; returning at certain seasons to his confinement again. This\nmight hold, were it not, that the comparison must suggest, that the\npower which has cast him down could be deluded, and the under-keepers or\njaylors, under whose charge he was in custody, could wink at his\nexcursions, and the Lord of the place know nothing of the matter. But\nthis wants farther explanation.\nCHAP. III.\n_Of the original of the_ DEVIL, _who he is, and what he was before his\n     expulsion out of Heaven, and in what state he was from that time\n     to the creation of Man._\nTo come to a regular enquiry into Satan's affairs, 'tis needful we\nshould go back to his original, as far as history and the opinion of the\nlearned World will give us leave.\nIt is agreed by all Writers, as well sacred as prophane, that this\ncreature we now call a Devil, was originally an Angel of light, a\nglorious Seraph; perhaps the choicest of all the glorious Seraphs. See\nhow _Milton_ describes his original glory:\n  _Satan_, so call him now, his former name\n  Is heard no more in Heaven: He of the first,\n  If not _the first Archangel_; great in power,\n  In favour and preeminence.\nAnd again the same author, and upon the same subject:\n  ------Brighter once amidst the host\n  Of Angels, than that star the stars among.\nThe glorious figure which Satan is supposed to make among the _Thrones_\nand _Dominions_ in Heaven is such, as we might suppose the highest Angel\nin that exalted train could make; and some think, _as above_, that he\nwas the chief of the Arch-angels.\nHence that notion, (and not ill founded) _namely_, that the first cause\nof his disgrace, and on which ensued his rebellion, was occasioned upon\nGod's proclaiming his SON Generalissimo, and with himself supreme ruler\nin heaven; giving the dominion of all his works of creation, as well\nalready finish'd, as not then begun, to him; which post of honour (say\nthey) _Satan_ expected to be conferr'd on himself, as next in honour,\nmajesty and power to God the Supreme.\nThis opinion is follow'd by Mr. _Milton_ too, as appears in the\nfollowing lines, where he makes all the Angels attending all a general\nsummons, and God the Father making the following declaration to them.\n    \"Here, all ye Angels, prodigy of light,\n  \"Thrones, dominions, princedoms, virtues, pow'rs!\n  \"Hear my decree, which unrevok'd shall stand.\n  \"This day I have begot whom I declare\n  \"My only SON, and on this hill\n  \"Him have anointed, whom you now behold\n  \"At my right hand; your Head I Him appoint:\n  \"And my self have sworn to him shall bow\n  \"All knees in Heav'n, and shall confess him Lord,\n  \"Under his great vice-gerent reign abide\n  \"United, as one individual soul,\n  \"For ever happy: Him who disobeys,\n  \"Me disobeys, breaks union, and that day\n  \"Cast out from GOD, and blessed vision, falls\n  \"Into utter darkness, deep ingulph'd, his place\n  \"Ordain'd without redemption, without end.\nSatan, affronted at the appearance of a new Essence or Being in Heaven,\ncall'd the Son of God; for God, says Mr. _Milton_, (tho' erroneously)\ndeclared himself at that time, saying, _This day have I begotten him_,\nand that he should be set up, above all the former Powers of Heaven, of\nwhom Satan (as above) was the Chief and expecting, if any higher post\ncould be granted, it might be his due; I say, affronted at this he\nresolv'd\n  \"With all his Legions to dislodge, and leave\n  \"Unworship'd, unobey'd, the throne supreme\n  \"Contemptuous. ------\n  _Par. lost_, lib. v. fo. 140.\nBut Mr. _Milton_ is grosly erroneous in ascribing those words, _This day\nhave I begotten thee_, to that declaration of the Father before Satan\nfell, and consequently to a time before the creation; whereas, it is by\nInterpreters agreed to be understood of the Incarnation of the Son of\nGod, or at least of the Resurrection: [3] see _Pool_ upon _Acts_ xiii.\nIn a word, Satan withdrew with all his followers malecontent and\nchagrine, resolv'd to disobey this new command, and not yield obedience\nto the Son.\nBut Mr. _Milton_ agrees in that opinion, that the number of Angels which\nrebel'd with _Satan_ was infinite, and suggests in one place, that they\nwere the greatest half of all the angelick Body or seraphick Host.\n        \"But Satan with his Power,\n  \"Innumerable as the stars of night,\n  \"Or stars of morning, dew drops, which the Sun\n  \"Impearls on ev'ry leaf and ev'ry flower.\nBe their number as it is, numberless millions and legions of millions,\nthat is no part of my present enquiry; Satan the leader, guide and\nsuperior, as he was author of the celestial rebellion, is still the\ngreat Head and Master-Devil as before; under his authority they still\nact, not obeying but carrying on the same insurrection against God,\nwhich they begun in Heaven; making war still against Heaven, in the\nperson of his Image and Creature man; and tho' vanquish'd by the thunder\nof the Son of God, and cast down headlong from Heaven, they have yet\nreassumed, or rather not lost either the will or the power of doing\nevil.\nThis fall of the Angels, with the war in Heaven which preceded it, is\nfinely describ'd by _Ovid_, in his war of the _Titans_ against\n_Jupiter_; casting mountain upon mountain, and hill upon hill (_Pelion_\nupon _Ossa_) in order to scale the Adamantine walls, and break open the\ngates of _Heaven_; till _Jupiter_ struck them with his thunder-bolts and\noverwhelm'd them in the abyss: _Vide Ovid Metam._ new translation, lib.\n  \"Nor were the Gods themselves secure on high,\n  \"For now the _Gyants_ strove to storm _the sky_,\n  \"The lawless brood with bold attempt invade\n  \"THE GODS, and mountains upon mountains _laid_.\n    \"But now the _bolt_, enrag'd _the Father_ took,\n  \"_Olympus_ from her deep foundations shook,\n  \"Their structure nodded at the mighty stroke,\n  \"And _Ossa_'s shatter'd top o'er _Pelion_ broke,\n  \"They're in their own ungodly ruines slain.--\nThen again speaking of _Jupiter_, resolving in council to destroy\nmankind by a deluge, and giving the reasons of it to the heavenly Host,\nsay thus, speaking of the demy-Gods alluding to good men below.\n  \"Think you that they in safety can remain,\n  \"When I my self who o'er Immortals reign,\n  \"Who send the lightning, and Heaven's empire sway,\n  \"The stern [4] Lycaon practis'd to betray.\nSince then so much poetic liberty is taken with the Devil, relating to\nhis most early state, and the time before his fall, give me leave to\nmake an excursion of the like kind, relating to his History immediately\nafter the fall, and till the creation of man; an interval which I think\nmuch of the Devil's story is to be seen in, and which Mr. _Milton_ has\ntaken little notice of, at least it does not seem compleatly fill'd up;\nafter which I shall return to honest Prose again, and persue the duty of\nan Historian.\n    _Satan_, with hideous ruin thus supprest\n  _Expell'd_ the seat of blessedness and rest,\n  Look'd back and saw the _high eternal mound_,\n  Where all _his rebel host_ their _outlet_ found\n  _Restor'd impregnable_: The breach made up,\n  And garrisons of Angels rang'd a top;\n  In front a hundred thousand thunders roll,\n  And lightnings temper'd to transfix a soul,\n  Terror of _Devils_. _Satan_ and his host,\n  Now to themselves _as well as station lost_,\n  Unable to support the hated sight,                  }\n  Expand _seraphic wings_, and swift as light         }\n  Seek for new safety in _eternal Night_.             }\n    In the remotest gulphs _of dark_ they land,\n  Here vengeance gives them leave to make their stand,\n  Not that to _steps_ and _measures_ they pretend,\n  _Councils_ and _schemes_ their station to defend;\n  But broken, disconcerted and _dismay'd_,\n  By guilt and fright to guilt and fright _betray'd_;\n  Rage and confusion ev'ry Spirit possess'd,\n  And _shame_ and _horror_ swell'd in ev'ry breast;\n  Transforming envy to their essentials burns,\n  And _the bright_ Angel to a _frightful Devil_ turns.\n    _Thus Hell began_; the fire of conscious rage\n  No years can quench, no length of time asswage.\n  _Material Fire_, with its intensest flame,\n  Compar'd _with this_ can scarce deserve a Name;\n  How should it up to _immaterials_ rise,\n  When we're _all flame_, we shall _all fire_ despise.\n    This fire outrageous and its heat intense\n  Turns all the pain _of loss_ to pain _of sense_.\n  The folding flames _concave_ and _inward_ roll,\n  Act _upon spirit_ and penetrate _the soul_:\n  Not force of _Devils_ can its new powers repel,\n  Where'er it burns _it finds_ or _makes_ a HELL;\n  For _Satan_ flaming with unquench'd desire\n  Forms _his own Hell_, and kindles _his own fire_,\n  Vanquish'd, _not humbl'd_, not in will brought low,\n  But as _his powers_ decline _his passions_ grow:\n  The malice, _Viper like_, takes vent within,\n  Gnaws its own bowels, and bursts in _its own sin_:\n  Impatient of the change _he scorns to bow_,\n  And never _impotent_ in power _till now_;\n  Ardent with hate, and _with revenge_ distract,\n  A will to new attempts, _but none_ to act;\n  Yet all _seraphick_, and in just degree,\n  Suited _to Spirits high sense_ of misery,\n  Deriv'd from _loss_ which _nothing_ can repair,\n  And _room for nothing left_ but meer despair.\n  _Here's finish'd Hell!_ what fiercer fire _can burn_?\n  Enough ten thousand Worlds to over-turn.\n    HELL's but the frenzy of defeated pride,\n  Seraphick Treason's strong impetuous tide,\n  Where vile ambition _disappointed_ first,\n  To its _own rage_ and _boundless hatred_ curst;\n  The hate's _fan'd up to fury_, that to _flame_,\n  For _fire_ and _fury_ are in kind the same;\n  These burn unquenchable in every face,\n  And the word ENDLESS constitutes the place.\n    O _state of Being!_ where being's the only grief,\n  And the _chief torture_'s to be damn'd to life;\n  _O life!_ the only thing they have to hate;\n  The _finish'd torment_ of a future state,\n  Compleat in all the parts of endless misery,\n  And worse ten thousand times than _not_ to BE!\n  Could but the Damn'd _the immortal law_ repeal,\n  And _Devils dye_, there'd be _an end of Hell_;\n  Could they that thing call'd _Being_ annihilate,\n  There'd be _no sorrows_ in a future state;\n  The Wretch, whose crimes had shut him out _on high_,\n  Could be reveng'd on God himself _and die_;\n  _Job's Wife_ was in the right, and always we\n  Might end _by death_ all human misery,              }\n  Might have it in our choice, _to be_ or not to be.  }\nCHAP. IV.\n_Of the name of the Devil, his original, and the nature of his\n     circumstances since he has been called by that name._\nThe Scripture is the first writing on earth where we find the _Devil_\ncalled by his own proper distinguishing denomination, DEVIL, or the [5]\n_Destroyer_; nor indeed is there any other author of antiquity or of\nsufficient authority which says any thing of that kind about him.\nHere he makes his first appearance in the world, and on that occasion he\nis called the _Serpent_; but the _Serpent_ however since made to signify\nthe _Devil_, when spoken of in general terms, was but the Devil's\nrepresentative, or the Devil _in quo vis vehiculo_, for that time,\nclothed in a bodily shape, acting under cover and in disguise, or if you\nwill the _Devil_ in _masquerade_: Nay, if we believe Mr. _Milton_, the\n_Angel Gabriel_'s spear had such a secret powerful influence, as to make\nhim strip of a sudden, and with a touch to unmask, and stand upright in\nhis naked original shape, meer _Devil_, without any disguises\nwhatsoever.\nNow as we go to the Scripture for much of his history, so we must go\nthere also for some of his names; and he has a great variety of names\nindeed, as his several mischievous doings guide us to conceive of him.\nThe truth is, all the ancient names given him, of which the Scripture is\nfull, seems to be originals derived from and adapted to the several\nsteps he has taken, and the several shapes he has appeared in to do\nmischief in the world.\n  Here he is called the _Serpent_, Gen. iii. 1.\n            The _old Serpent_, Rev. xii. 9.\n            The _great red Dragon_, Rev. xii. 3.\n            The _Accuser of the Brethren_, Rev. xii. 10.\n            The _Enemy_, Matt. xxiii. 29.\n            _Beelzebub_, Matt. xii. 24.\n            The _Angel of light_, 2 Cor. xi. 14.\n            The _Angel of the bottomless pit_, Rev. ix. 11.\n            The _Prince of the power of the air_, Eph. ii. 2.\n            _Abbaddon_ or _Apollion_, Rev. ix. 11.\n            The _God of this world_, 2 Cor. iv. 4.\n            The _Foul Spirit_, Mark ix. 5.\n            The _Unclean Spirit_, Mark i. 27.\n            The _Lying Spirit_, 2 Chron. xxx.\n            The _Tempter_, Matt. iv. 3.\n            The _Son of the morning_, Isa. xiv. 12.\nBut to sum them all up in one, he is called in the new Testament _plain_\nDEVIL; all his other names are varied according to the custom of speech,\nand the dialects of the several nations where he is spoken of; But in a\nword, _Devil_ is the common name of the _Devil_ in all the known\nlanguages of the earth. Nay, all the mischiefs he is empowered to do,\nare in Scripture placed to his account, under the particular title of\nthe _Devil_, not of _Devils_ in the plural number, though they are\nsometimes mentioned too; but in the singular it is the identical\nindividual _Devil_, in and under whom all the little _Devils_, and all\nthe great _Devils_, if such there be, are supposed to act; nay, they are\nsupposed to be govern'd and directed by him. Thus we are told in\nScripture of the works of _the Devil_, 1 John iii. 8. of casting out\n_the Devil_, Mark i. 34. of resisting _the Devil_, James iv. 5. of our\nSaviour being tempted of _the Devil_, Mat. iv. 1. of _Simon Magus_, a\nchild of the _Devil_, Acts xiii. 10. The _Devil_ came down in a great\nwrath, _Rev._ xii. 12. _and the like_. According to this usage in\nspeech we go on to this day, and all the infernal things we converse\nwith in the world, are fathered upon the _Devil_, as one undivided\nsimple essence, by how many agents soever working: Every thing evil,\nfrightful in appearance, wicked in its actings, horrible in its manner,\nmonstrous in its effects, is called the _Devil_; in a word, _Devil_ is\nthe common name for all _Devils_; that is to say, for all evil Spirits,\nall evil Powers, all evil Works, and even all evil things: Yet 'tis\nremarkable _the Devil_ is no old Testament word, and we never find it\nused in all that part of the Bible but four times, and then not once in\nthe singular number, and not once to signify _Satan_ as 'tis now\nunderstood.\nIt is true, the Learned give a great many differing interpretations of\nthe word _Devil_; the _English_ Commentators tell us, it means _a\ndestroyer_, others that it signifies a deceiver, and the _Greeks_ derive\nit from a _Calumniator_ or false witness; for we find that _Calumny_ was\na _Goddess_, to whom the _Athenians_ built altars and offer'd Sacrifices\nupon some solemn occasions, and they call her Diabol\u00e8 from\nwhence came the masculine Diabolos which we translate _Devil_.\nThus we take the name of _Devil_ to signify not persons only, but\nactions and habits; making imaginary Devils, and transforming that\nsubstantial creature call'd DEVIL into every thing noxious and\noffensive: Thus St. _Francis_ being tempted by the _Devil_ in the shape\nof a bag of money lying in the highway, _the Saint_ having discover'd\nthe fraud, whether seeing his _Cloven-foot_ hang out of the purse, or\nwhether he distinguish'd him by his smell of _sulphur_, or how\notherwise, authors are not agreed; but, I say, the Saint having\ndiscover'd the cheat, and out-witted the _Devil_, took occasion to\npreach that eminent sermon to his disciples, where his Text was, _Money\nis_ THE DEVIL.\nNor, upon the whole, is any wrong done to _the Devil_ by this kind of\ntreatment, it only gives him the sovereignty of the whole army of Hell,\nand making all the numberless legions of the bottomless pit servants;\nor, _as the Scripture calls them_, Angels to _Satan_ the grand _Devil_;\nall their actions, performances and atchievements are justly attributed\nto him, not as the prince of _Devils_ only, but the Emperor of _Devils_;\nthe prince of all the princes of _Devils_.\nUnder this denomination then of DEVIL, all the Powers of Hell, all the\nPrinces of the air, all the black armies of _Satan_ are comprehended,\nand in such manner they are to be understood in this whole work;\n_mutatis mutandis_, according to the several circumstances of which we\nare to speak of them.\nThis being premis'd, and my authority being so good, _Satan_ must not\ntake it ill, if I treat him _after the manner of men_, and give him\nthose titles which he is best known by among us; for indeed having so\nmany, 'tis not very easy to call him out of his name.\nHowever, as I am oblig'd by the duty of an Historian to decency as well\nas impartiality, so I thought it necessary, before I used too much\nfreedom with _Satan_, to produce authentick Documents, and bring\nantiquity upon the stage, to justify the manner of my writing, and let\nyou see I shall describe him in no colours, nor call him by any name,\nbut what he has been known by for many ages before me.\nAnd now, though writing to the common understanding of my Readers, I am\noblig'd to treat _Satan_ very coarsly, and to speak of him in the common\nacceptation, calling him plain _Devil_, a word which in this mannerly\nage is not so _sonorous_ as others might be, and which by the error of\nthe Times is apt to prejudice us against his Person; yet it must be\nacknowledg'd he has a great many other names and sirnames which he might\nbe known by, of a less obnoxious import than that of _Devil_, or\n_Destroyer_, &c.\nMr. _Milton_, indeed, wanting titles of honour to give to the Leaders of\nSatan's Host, is oblig'd to borrow several of his Scripture names, and\nbestow them upon his infernal _Heroes_, whom he makes the Generals and\nLeaders of the armies of Hell; and so he makes _Beelzebub_, _Lucifer_,\n_Belial_, _Mammon_, and some others, to be the names of particular\nDevils, members of _Satan's upper house_ or _Pandemonium_; whereas\nindeed, these are all names proper and peculiar to _Satan_ himself.\nThe Scripture also has some names of a coarser kind, by which _the\nDevil_ is understood, as particularly, which is noted already, in the\nApocalypse he is call'd the _Great Red Dragon_, the _Beast_, the _Old\nSerpent_, and the like: But take it in the Scripture, or where you will\nin History sacred or prophane, you will find that in general the _Devil_\nis, as I have said above, his ordinary name in all languages and in all\nnations; the name by which he and his works are principally\ndistinguish'd: Also the Scripture, besides that it often gives him this\nname, speaks of the works of _the Devil_, of the subtilty of _the\nDevil_, of casting out _Devils_, of being tempted of the _Devil_, of\nbeing possess'd with a _Devil_, and so many other expressions of that\nkind, as I have said already, are made use of for us to understand the\nevil Spirit by, that in a word, _Devil_ is the common name of all wicked\nSpirits: For _Satan_ is no more _the Devil_, as if he alone was so, and\nall the rest were a diminutive species who did not go by that name; But,\nI say, even in Scripture, every Spirit, whether under his Dominion or\nout of his Dominion, is called the _Devil_, and is as much a real\n_Devil_, that is to say, a condemn'd Spirit, and employ'd in the same\nwicked work as _Satan_ himself.\nHis Name then being thus ascertain'd, and his Existence acknowledg'd, it\nshould be a little enquir'd _what he is_; we believe there is such a\nthing, such a creature as _the Devil_, and that he has been, and may\nstill with propriety of speech, and without injustice to his Character\nbe call'd by his antient name _Devil_.\nBut who is he? what is his original? whence came he? and what is his\npresent station and condition? for these things and these enquiries are\nvery necessary to his History, nor indeed can any part of his History be\ncompleat without them.\nThat he is of an antient and noble original must be acknowledged, for he\nis _Heaven-born_, and of _Angelic Race_, as has been touch'd already: If\nScripture-evidence may be of any weight in the question, there is no\nroom to doubt the genealogy of the _Devil_; he is not only spoken of as\nan _Angel_, but as a _fallen Angel_, one that had been in _Heaven_, had\nbeheld the face of GOD in his full effulgence of glory, and had\nsurrounded the Throne of the most High; from whence, commencing rebel\nand being expell'd, he was cast down, down, down, GOD and the _Devil_\nhimself only knows where; for indeed we cannot say that any man on Earth\nknows it; and wherever it is, he has ever since man's creation been a\nplague to him, been a tempter, a deluder, a calumniator, an enemy and\nthe object of man's horror and aversion.\nAs his original is _Heaven-born_, and his Race _Angelic_, so the Angelic\nnature is evidently plac'd in a class superior to the human, and this\nthe Scripture is express in also; when speaking of man, it says, he\nmade him a little lower than the Angels.\nThus _the Devil_, as mean thoughts as you may have of him, is of a\nbetter family than any of you, nay than the best Gentleman of you all;\nwhat he may be fallen to, is _one thing_, but what he is fallen from,\n_is another_; and therefore I must tell my learned and reverend friend\n_J. W._ LL. D. when he spoke so rudely of _the Devil_ lately, That in my\nopinion he abus'd his Betters.\nNor is the Scripture more a help to us in the search after _the Devil_'s\nOriginal, than it is in our search after his Nature: it is true, Authors\nare not agreed about his age, what time he was created, how many years\nhe enjoy'd his state of blessedness before he fell; or how many years he\ncontinued with his whole army in a state of darkness, and before the\ncreation of man. 'Tis supposed it might be a considerable space, and\nthat it was a part of his punishment too, being all the while unactive,\nunemploy'd, having no business, nothing to do but gnawing his own\nBowels, and rolling in the agony of his own self-approaches, being a\nHell to himself in reflecting on the glorious state from whence he was\nfallen.\nHow long he remain'd thus, 'tis true, we have no light into from\nHistory, and but little from Tradition; _Rabbi Judah_ says, the _Jews_\nwere of the opinion, that he remain'd twenty thousand years in that\ncondition, and that the World shall continue twenty thousand more, in\nwhich he shall find work enough to satisfy his mischievous desires; but\nhe shews no authority for his opinion.\nIndeed let the _Devil_ have been as idle as they think he was before, it\nmust be acknowledg'd that now he is the most busy, vigilant and\ndiligent, of all GOD's creatures, and very full of employment too,\n_such as it is_.\nScripture indeed, gives us light into the enmity there is between the\ntwo natures, the Diabolical and the Human; the reason of it, and how and\nby what means the power of _the Devil_ is restrain'd by the _Messias_;\nand to those who are willing to trust to Gospel-light, and believe what\nthe Scripture says of _the Devil_, there may much of his History be\ndiscover'd, and therefore those that list may go there for a fuller\naccount of the matter.\nBut to reserve all Scripture-evidence of these things, as a Magazine in\nstore for the use of those with whom Scripture-testimony is of force, I\nmust for the present turn to other enquiries, being now directing my\nstory to an age, wherein to be driven to Revelation and\nScripture-assertions is esteem'd giving up the dispute; people\nnow-a-days must have demonstration; and in a word, nothing will satisfy\nthe age, but such evidence as perhaps the nature of the question will\nnot admit.\nIt is hard, indeed, to bring demonstrations in such a case as this: _No\nman has seen_ GOD _at any time_, says the scripture, 1 _John_ iv. 12. So\n_the Devil_ being a spirit incorporeal, an Angel of light, and\nconsequently not visible in his own substance, nature and form, it may\nin some sense be said, _no man has seen the Devil at any time_; all\nthose pretences of phrenziful and fanciful people, who tell us, they\nhave seen _the Devil_, I shall examine, and perhaps expose by\nthemselves.\nIt might take up a great deal of our time here, to enquire whether _the\nDevil_ has any particular shape or personality of substance, which can\nbe visible to us, felt, heard, or understood; and which he cannot alter,\nand then, what shapes or appearances _the Devil_ has at any time taken\nupon him; and whether he can really appear in a body which might be\nhandled and seen, and yet so as to know it to have been _the Devil_ at\nthe time of his appearing; but this also I defer as not of weight in the\npresent enquiry.\nWe have divers accounts of Witches conversing with _the Devil_; the\n_Devil_ in a real body, with all the appearance of a body of a man or\nwoman appearing to them; also of having a _Familiar_, as they call it,\nan _Incubus_ or _little Devil_, which sucks their bodies, runs away with\nthem into the air, _and the like_: Much of this is said, but much more\nthan it is easy to prove, and we ought to give but a just proportion of\ncredit to those things.\nAs to his borrow'd shapes and his subtle transformings, that we have\nsuch open testimony of, that there is no room for any question about it;\nand when I come to that part, I shall be oblig'd rather to give a\nhistory of the fact, than enter into any dissertation upon the nature\nand reason of it.\nI do not find in any author, whom we can call creditable, that even in\nthose countries where the dominion of _Satan_ is more particularly\nestablish'd, and where they may be said to worship him in a more\nparticular manner, as _a Devil_; which some tell us the _Indians_ in\n_America_ did, who worship'd the _Devil_ that he might not hurt them;\nyet, _I say_, I do not find that even there the _Devil_ appear'd to them\nin any particular constant shape or personality peculiar to himself.\nScripture and History therefore, giving us no light into that part of\nthe question, I conclude and lay it down, not as my opinion only, but as\nwhat all ages seem to concur in, that the _Devil_ has no particular\nbody; that he is a spirit, and that tho' he may, _Proteus_ like, assume\nthe appearance of either man or beast, yet it must be some borrow'd\nshape, some assum'd figure, _pro hac vice_, and that he has no visible\nbody of his own.\nI thought it needful to discuss this as a preliminary, and that the next\ndiscourse might go upon a certainty in this grand point; namely, that\nthe Devil, however, he may for his particular occasions put himself into\na great many shapes, and clothe himself, perhaps, with what appearances\nhe pleases, yet that he is himself still a meer Spirit, that he retains\nthe seraphic Nature, is not visible by our eyes, which are human and\nOrganic, neither can he act with the ordinary Powers, or in the ordinary\nmanner as bodies do; and therefore, when he has thought fit to descend\nto the meannesses of disturbing and frightning children and old women,\nby noises and knockings, dislocating the chairs and stools, breaking\nwindows, and such like little ambulatory things, which would seem to be\nbelow the dignity of his character, and which in particular, is\nordinarily performed by organic Powers; yet even then he has thought fit\nnot to be seen, and rather to make the poor people believe he had a real\nshape and body, with hands to act, mouth to speak, _and the like_, than\nto give proof of it in common to the whole World, by shewing himself,\nand acting visibly and openly, as a body usually and ordinarily does.\nNor is it any disadvantage to the Devil, that his Seraphic nature is not\nconfin'd or imprison'd in a body or shape, suppose that shape to be what\nmonstrous thing we would; for this would, indeed, confine his actings\nwithin the narrow sphere of the organ or body to which he was limited;\nand tho' you were to suppose the body to have wings for a velocity of\nMotion equal to spirit, yet if it had not a power of invisibility too,\nand a capacity of conveying it self, undiscover'd, into all the secret\nrecesses of mankind, and the same secret art or capacity of insinuation,\nsuggestion, accusation, _&c._ by which his wicked designs are now\npropagated, and all his other devices assisted, by which he deludes and\nbetrays mankind; I say, he would be no more a Devil, that is a\nDestroyer, no more a Deceiver, and, no more a Satan, that is, a\ndangerous Arch enemy to the souls of men; nor would it be any difficulty\nto mankind to shun and avoid him, as I shall make plain in the other\npart of his History.\nHad the Devil from the beginning been embodied, as he could not have\nbeen invisible to us, whose souls equally seraphic are only prescrib'd\nby being embody'd and encas'd in flesh and blood as we are; so he would\nhave been no more a Devil to any body but himself: The imprisonment in a\nbody, had the powers of that body been all that we can conceive to make\nhim formidable to us, would yet have been a Hell to him; consider him as\na conquer'd exasperated Rebel, retaining all that fury and swelling\nambition, that hatred of God, and envy at his creatures which dwells now\nin his enrag'd spirit as a _Devil_: yet suppose him to have been\ncondemn'd to organic Powers, confin'd to corporeal motion, and\nrestrain'd as a Body must be supposed to restrain a Spirit; it must, at\nthe same time, suppose him to be effectually disabled from all the\nmethods he is now allow'd to make use of, for exerting his rage and\nenmity against God, any farther than as he might suppose it to affect\nhis Maker at second hand, by wounding his Glory thro' the sides of his\nweakest creature, MAN.\nHe must, certainly, be thus confin'd, because Body can only act upon\nBody, not upon Spirit; no species being empower'd to act out of the\ncompass of its own sphere: He might have been empower'd, indeed, to have\nacted terrible and even destructive things upon mankind, especially if\nthis body had any powers given it which mankind had not, by which man\nwould be overmatch'd and not be in a condition of self-defence; for\nexample, suppose him to have had wings to have flown in the air; Or to\nbe invulnerable, and that no human invention, art, or engine could hurt,\nensnare, captivate, or restrain him.\nBut this is to suppose the righteous and wise Creator to have made a\ncreature and not be able to defend and preserve him; or to have left him\ndefenceless to the mercy of another of his own creatures, whom he had\ngiven power to destroy him; This indeed, might have occasion'd a general\nidolatry, and made mankind, as the _Americans_ do to this day, worship\nthe _Devil_, that he might not hurt them; but it could not have\nprevented the destruction of mankind, supposing the Devil to have had\nmalice equal to his power: and he must put on a new nature, be\ncompassionate, generous, beneficent, and steadily good in sparing the\nrival enemy he was able to destroy, or he must have ruin'd mankind: _In\nshort_, he must have ceas'd to have been a Devil, and must have\nre-assum'd his original, Angelic, heavenly nature; been fill'd with the\nprinciples of love to, and delight in the Works of his Creator, and bent\nto propagate his Glory and Interest; or he must have put an end to the\nrace of man, whom it would be in his Power to destroy, and oblige his\nMaker to create a new species, or fortify the old with some kind of\ndefence, which must be invulnerable, and which his fiery darts could not\npenetrate.\nOn this occasion suffer me to make an excursion from the usual stile of\nthis Work, and with some solemnity to express my Thoughts thus:\nHow glorious is the wisdom and goodness of the great Creator of the\nWorld! in thus restraining these seraphic OUTCASTS from the power of\nassuming human or organic bodies! which could they do, envigorating them\nwith the supernatural Powers, which, as Seraphs and Angels, they now\npossess and might exert, they would be able even to fright mankind from\nthe face of the Earth, and to destroy and confound God's Creation; nay,\n_even as they are_, were not their power limited, they might destroy the\nCreation it self, reverse and over-turn nature, and put the World into a\ngeneral conflagration: But were those immortal Spirits embodied, tho'\nthey were not permitted to confound nature, they would be able to\nharrass poor weak and defenceless man out of his wits, and render him\nperfectly useless, either to his Maker or himself.\nBut the Dragon is chain'd, the Devil's Power is limited; he has indeed a\nvastly extended Empire, being Prince of the Air, having, at least, the\nwhole Atmosphere to range in, and how far that Atmosphere is extended,\nis not yet ascertain'd by the nicest observations; _I say at least_,\nbecause we do not yet know how far he may be allow'd to make excursions\nbeyond the Atmosphere of this Globe into the planetary Worlds, and what\npower he may exercise in all the habitable parts of the _solar system_;\nnay, of all the other _solar systems_, which, for ought we know, may\nexist in the mighty extent of created space, and of which you may hear\nfarther in its order.\nBut let his power be what it will there, we are sure 'tis limited here,\nand that in two particulars; first, he is limited as above, from\nassuming body or bodily shapes with substance; and secondly, from\nexerting seraphic Powers, and acting with that supernatural force,\nwhich, as an Angel, he was certainly vested with before the fall, and\nwhich we are not certain is yet taken from him; or at most, we do not\nknow how much it may or may not be diminish'd by his degeneracy, and by\nthe blow given him at his expulsion: this we are certain, that be his\nPower greater or less, he is restrain'd from the exercise of it in this\nWorld; and he, who was one equal to the Angel who kill'd 180000 men in\none night, is not able now, without a new commission, to take away the\nlife of one _Job_, nor to touch any thing he had.\nBut let us consider him then limited and restrained as he is, yet he\nremains a mighty, a terrible, an immortal Being; infinitely superior to\nman, as well in the dignity of his nature, as in the dreadful powers he\nretains still about him; it is true the brain-sick heads of our\nEnthusiasticks paint him blacker than he is, and, as I have said,\nwickedly represent him clothed with terrors that do not really belong to\nhim; as if the power of good and evil was wholly vested in him, and that\nhe was placed in the Throne of his Maker, to distribute both punishments\nand rewards; In this they are much wrong, terrifying and deluding\nfanciful people about him, till they turn their heads, and fright them\ninto a belief that the _Devil_ will let them alone, if they do such and\nsuch good things; or carry them away with him they know not whither, if\nthey do not; as if the _Devil_, whose proper business is mischief,\nseducing and deluding mankind, and drawing them in to be rebels like\nhimself, should threaten to seize upon them, carry them away, and in a\nword, fall upon them to hurt them, if they did evil, and on the\ncontrary, be favourable and civil to them, if they did well.\nThus a poor deluded country fellow in our Town, that had liv'd a wicked,\nabominable, debauch'd life, was frighted with an Apparition, as he\ncall'd it, of the _Devil_; He fancy'd that he spoke to him, and telling\nhis tale to a good honest christian Gentleman his neighbour, that had a\nlittle more sense than himself; the Gentleman ask'd him if he was sure\nhe really saw the _Devil_? yes, yes, Sir, _says he_, I saw him very\nplain, and so they began the following discourse.\n_Gent._ See him! See the Devil! art thou sure of it, _Thomas_?\n_Tho._ Yes, yes, I am sure enough of it, _Master_; to be sure 'twas the\n_Devil_.\n_Gent._ And how do you know 'twas the _Devil_, _Thomas_? had you ever\nseen the _Devil_ before?\n_Tho._ No, no, I had never seen him before, _to be sure_; but, for all\nthat, I know 'twas the _Devil_.\n_Gent._ Well, if you're sure, _Thomas_, there's no contradicting you;\npray what clothes had he on?\n_Tho._ Nay, Sir, don't jest with me, he had no clothes on, he was\nclothed with fire and brimstone.\n_Gent._ Was it dark or day light when you saw him?\n_Tho._ O! it was very dark, for it was midnight.\n_Gent._ How could you see him then? did you see by the light of the fire\nyou speak of?\n_Tho._ No, no, he gave no light himself; but I saw him, for all that.\n_Gent._ But was it within doors, or out in the street?\n_Tho._ It was within, it was in my own Chamber, when I was just going\ninto bed, that I saw him.\n_Gent._ Well then, you had a candle, hadn't you?\n_Tho._ Yes, I had a candle, but it burnt as blue! and as dim!\n_Gent._ Well, but if the Devil was clothed with fire and brimstone, he\nmust give you some light, there can't be such a fire as you speak of,\nbut it must give a light with it.\n_Tho._ _No, no_, He gave no light, but I smelt his fire and brimstone;\nhe left a smell of it behind him, when he was gone.\n_Gent._ Well, so you say he had fire, but gave no light, it was a\ndevilish fire indeed; did it feel warm? was the room hot while he was in\nit?\n_Tho._ No, no, but I was hot enough without it, for it put me into a\ngreat sweat with the fright.\n_Gent._ Very well, he was all in fire, you say, but without light or\nheat, only, it seems, he stunk of brimstone; pray what shapes was he in,\nwhat was he like; for you say you saw him?\n_Tho._ O! Sir, I saw two great staring saucer eyes, enough to fright any\nbody out of their wits.\n_Gent._ And was that all you saw?\n_Tho._ No, I saw his _cloven-foot_ very plain, 'twas as big as one of\nour bullocks that goes to plow.\n_Gent._ So you saw none of his body, but his eyes and his feet? a fine\nvision indeed!\n_Tho._ Sir, that was enough to send me going.\n_Gent._ Going! what did you run away from him?\n_Tho._ No, but I fled into bed at one jump, and sunk down and pull'd the\nbed-clothes quite over me.\n_Gent._ And what did you do that for?\n_Tho._ To hide my self from such a frightful creature.\n_Gent._ Why, if it had really been the Devil, do you think the\nbed-clothes would have secur'd you from him?\n_Tho._ Nay, I don't know, but in a fright it was all I could do.\n_Gent._ Nay, 'twas as wise as all the rest; but come, _Thomas_, to be a\nlittle serious, pray did he speak to you?\n_Tho._ Yes, yes, I heard a voice, but who it was the Lord knows.\n_Gent._ What kind of voice was it, was it like a man's voice?\n_Tho._ No, it was a hoarse ugly noise, like the croaking of a Frog, and\nit call'd me by my name twice, _Thomas Dawson, Thomas Dawson_.\n_Gent._ Well, did you answer?\n_Tho._ No, not I, I could not have spoke a word for my life; why, I was\nfrighted to death.\n_Gent._ Did it say any thing else?\n_Tho._ _Yes_, when it saw that I did not speak, it said, _Thomas Dawson,\nThomas Dawson, you are a wicked wretch, you lay with_ Jenny S---- _last\nnight; if you don't repent, I will take you away alive and carry you to\nHell, and you shall be damned, you wretch_.\n_Gent._ And was it true, _Thomas_, did you lye with _Jenny S----_ the\nnight before?\n_Tho._ Indeed Master, why yes it was true, but I was very sorry\nafterwards.\n_Gent._ But how should the Devil know it, _Thomas_?\n_Tho._ Nay, he knows it to be sure; why, they say he knows every thing.\n_Gent._ _Well_, but why should he be angry at that? he would rather did\nyou lye with her again, and encourage you to lye with forty whores, than\nhinder you: This can't be the Devil, _Thomas_.\n_Tho._ Yes, yes. Sir, 'twas the _Devil_ to be sure.\n_Gent._ But he bid you repent too, you say?\n_Tho._ Yes, he threatn'd me if I did not.\n_Gent._ Why, _Thomas_, do you think the Devil would have you repent?\n_Tho._ _Why no_, that's true too, I don't know what to say to that; but\nwhat could it be? 'twas the Devil to be sure, it could be nobody else?\n_Gent._ No, no, 'twas neither the Devil, _Thomas_, nor any body else,\nbut your own frighted imagination; you had lain with that wench, and\nbeing a young sinner of that kind, your Conscience terrified you, told\nyou the Devil would fetch you away, and you would be damn'd; and you\nwere so persuaded it would be so, that you at last imagin'd he was come\nfor you indeed; that you saw him and heard him; whereas, you may depend\nupon it, if _Jenny S----_ will let you lye with her every night, the\nDevil will hold the candle, or do any thing to forward it, but will\nnever disturb you; he's too much a friend to your wickedness, it could\nnever be the Devil, _Thomas_; 'twas only your own guilt frighted you,\nand that was _Devil_ enough too, if you knew the worst of it, you need\nno other enemy.\n_Tho._ Why that's true, Master, one would think the _Devil_ should not\nbid me repent, that's true; but certainly 'twas the Devil for all that.\nNow _Thomas_ was not the only man that having committed a flagitious\ncrime had been deluded by his own imagination, and the power of fancy,\nto think the Devil was come for him; whereas the Devil, to give him his\ndue, is too honest to pretend to such things; 'tis his business to\npersuade men to offend, not to repent; and he professes no other; he may\npress men to this or that action, by telling them 'tis no sin, no\noffence, no breach of God's Law, and the like, when really 'tis both;\nbut to press them to repent, when they have offended, that's quite out\nof his way; 'tis none of his business, nor does he pretend to it;\ntherefore, let no man charge the Devil with what he is not concern'd in.\nBut to return to his Person, he is, as I have said, notwithstanding his\nlost glory, a mighty, a terrible and an immortal Spirit; he is himself\ncall'd a Prince, _the Prince of the Power of the Air_; the Prince of\nDarkness, the Prince of _Devils_, and the like, and his attending\nSpirits are call'd _his Angels_: so that however _Satan_ has lost the\nglory and rectitude of his Nature, by his apostate state, yet he retains\na greatness and magnificence, which places him above our rank, and\nindeed above our conception; for we know not what he is, any more than\nwe know what the blessed Angels are; of whom we can say no more than\nthat they are _ministring Spirits_, &c. as the Scripture has describ'd\nthem.\nTwo things, however, may give us some insight into the nature of the\nDevil, in the present state he is in; and these we have a clear\ndiscovery of in the whole series of his Conduct from the Beginning.\n     1. That he is the vanquish'd but implacable enemy of God his\n     Creator, who has conquer'd him, and expell'd him from the\n     habitations of bliss; on which account he is fill'd with envy,\n     rage, malice, and all uncharitableness; would dethrone God and\n     overturn the thrones of Heaven, if it was in his power.\n     2. That he is man's irreconcilable Enemy; not as he is a man, nor\n     on his own account simply, nor for any advantage he (the Devil) can\n     make by the ruin and destruction of man; but in meer envy at the\n     felicity he is supposed to enjoy as Satan's rival; and as he is\n     appointed to succeed Satan and his Angels in the possession of\n     those glories from which they are fallen.\nAnd here I must take upon me to say, Mr. _Milton_ makes a wrong judgment\nof the reason of _Satan_'s resolution to disturb the felicity of man; He\ntells us it was meerly to affront God his Maker, rob him of the glory\ndesign'd in his new work of creations and to disappoint him in his main\ndesign, namely, the creating a new species of creatures in a perfect\nrectitude of soul, and after his own image, from whom he might expect a\nnew Fund of glory should be rais'd, and who was to appear as the triumph\nof the Messiah's victory over the Devil. In all which Satan could not be\nfool enough not to know that he should be disappointed by the same\nPower which had so eminently counter-acted his rage before.\nBut, I believe, the Devil went upon a much more probable design; and\ntho' he may be said to act upon a meaner principle than that of pointing\nhis rage at the personal glory of his Creator; yet I own, that in my\nopinion, it was by much the more rational undertaking, and more likely\nto succeed; and that was, that whereas he perceived this new species of\ncreatures had a sublime as well as a human part, and were made capable\nof possessing the mansions of eternal Beatitude, from whence, he\n(_Satan_) and his Angels were expell'd and irretrievably banish'd; envy\nat such a rival mov'd him by all possible artifice, _for he saw him\ndeprived of capacity to do it by force_, to render him unworthy like\nhimself; that bringing him to fall into rebellion and disobedience, he\nmight see his Rival damn'd with him; and those who were intended to fill\nup the empty spaces in Heaven, made so by the absence of so many\nmillions of fallen Angels, be cast out into the same darkness with them.\nHow he came to know that this new species of creatures were liable to\nsuch imperfection, is best explain'd by the _Devil_'s prying, vigilant\ndisposition, judging or leading him to judge by himself; (for he was as\nnear being infallible as any of God's creatures had been) and then\ninclining him to try whether it was so or no.\nModern Naturalists, especially some who have not so large a charity for\nthe fair sex, as I have, tell us, that as soon as ever Satan saw the\nwoman, and look'd in her face, he saw evidently that she was the best\nform'd creature to make a Tool of, and the best to make a hypocrite of,\nthat could be made, and therefore the most fitted for his purpose.\n1. He saw by some thwart lines in her face, (legible, perhaps, to\nhimself only) that there was a throne ready prepar'd for the sin of\npride to sit in state upon, especially if it took an early possession:\nEVE you may suppose was a perfect Beauty, if ever such a thing may be\nsupposed in the human frame; her figure being so extraordinary, was the\ngroundwork of his project; there needed no more than to bring her to be\nvain of it, and to conceit that it either was so, or was infinitely more\nsublime and beautiful than it really was; and having thus tickl'd her\nvanity, to introduce Pride gradually, till at last he might persuade\nher, that she was really Angelic, or of heavenly Race, and wanted\nnothing but to eat the forbidden fruit, and that would make her\nsomething more excellent still.\n2. Looking farther into her Frame, and with a nearer view to her\nimperfections, he saw room to conclude that she was of a constitution\neasy to be seduc'd, and especially by flattering her; raising a\ncommotion in her Soul, and a disturbance among her passions; and\naccordingly he set himself to work, to disturb her repose, and put\ndreams of great things into her head; together with something of a\nnameless Kind, which (however, some have been ill-natur'd enough to\nsuggest) I shall not injure the Devil so much as to mention, without\nbetter evidence.\n3. But, besides this, he found, upon the very first survey of her\noutside, something so very charming in her mein and behaviour, so\nengaging as well as agreeable in the whole texture of her person, and\nwithal such a sprightly wit, such a vivacity of parts, such a fluency of\ntongue, and above all, such a winning prevailing whine in her smiles, or\nat least in her tears, that he made no doubt if he could but once delude\nher, she would easily be brought to delude _Adam_, whom he found set not\nonly a great value upon her person, but was perfectly captivated by her\ncharms; in a word, he saw plainly, that if he could but ruin her, he\nshould easily make a Devil of her, to ruin her husband, and draw him\ninto any gulph of mischief, were it ever so black and dreadful, that she\nshould first fall into herself; how far some may be wicked enough, from\nhence, to suggest of the _fair sex_, that they have been Devils to their\nhusbands ever since, I cannot say; I hope they will not be so unmerciful\nto discover truths of such fatal consequence, tho' they should come to\ntheir knowledge.\nThus subtle and penetrating has Satan been from the beginning; and who\ncan wonder that upon these discoveries made into the woman's inside, he\nwent immediately to work with her, rather than with _Adam_? not but that\none would think, if _Adam_ was fool enough to be deluded by his wife,\nthe Devil might have seen so much of it in his countenance, as to have\nencourag'd him to make his attack directly upon him, and not go round\nabout, beating the bush, and ploughing with the Heifer; setting upon the\nwoman first, and then setting her upon her husband, who might as easily\nhave been imposed upon as she.\nOther Commentators upon this critical Text suggest to us, that _Eve_ was\nnot so pleased with the hopes of being made a Goddess; That the pride of\na Seraphic Knowledge did not so much work upon her imagination to bring\nher to consent, as a certain secret Notion infus'd into her head by the\nsame wicked instrument, that she should be wiser than _Adam_, and should\nby the superiority of her understanding, necessarily have the government\nover him; which, at present, she was sensible she had not, he being\nmaster of a particular air of gravity and majesty, as well as of\nstrength, infinitely superior to her.\nThis is an ill-natur'd suggestion; but it must be confess'd the\nimpatient desire of government, which (since that) appears in the\ngeneral Behaviour of the sex, and particularly of governing husbands,\nleaves too much room to legitimate the supposition.\nThe Expositors, who are of this opinion, add to it, that this being her\noriginal crime, or the particular temptation to that crime; Heaven\nthought fit to shew his justice, in making her more entire subjection to\nher husband be a part of the Curse, that she might read her sin in the\npunishment, (_viz._) _he shall rule over thee_.\nI only give the general hint of these things as they appear recorded in\nthe annals of _Satan_'s first Tyranny, and at the beginning of his\ngovernment in the World; those that would be more particularly inform'd,\nmay enquire of him _and know farther_.\nI cannot however, but observe here _with some regret_, how it appears by\nthe consequence, that the Devil was not mistaken when he made an early\njudgment of Mrs. _Eve_; and how _Satan_ really went the right way to\nwork, to judge of her; 'tis certain the Devil had nothing to do but to\nlook in her face, and upon a near steady view he might easily see there,\nan instrument for his Turn; nor has he fail'd to make her a Tool ever\nsince, by the very methods which he at first proposed; to which,\nperhaps, he has made some additions in the corrupting her composition,\nas well as her understanding; qualifying her to be a compleat snare to\nthe poor _weaker vessel_ MAN; to wheedle him with her _Syren_'s voice,\nabuse him with her smiles, delude him with her crocodile tears, and\nsometimes cock her crown at him, and terrify him with the thunder of her\nTREBLE; making the effeminated _Male Apple-eater_ tremble at the noise\nof that very Tongue, which at first commanded him to Sin. For it is yet\na debate which the Learned have not decided, whether she persuaded and\nentreated him, or like a true she-tyrant, exercised her authority and\noblig'd him to eat the forbidden fruit.\nAnd therefore a certain author, whose name, _for fear of the Sex's\nresentment_ I conceal, brings her in, calling to _Adam_ at a great\ndistance, in an imperious haughty manner, beckoning to him with her\nhand, thus; _Here_, says she, _you cowardly faint-hearted wretch, take\nthis branch of heavenly fruit, eat and be a stupid fool no longer; eat\nand be wise; eat and be a God; and know, to your eternal shame, that\nyour wife has been made an enlightn'd Goddess before you_.\nHe tells you _Adam_ hung back a little at first, and trembl'd, _afraid\nto trespass_: _What ails the_ SOT, says the new Termagant? _what are you\nafraid of? did God forbid you! yes, and why? that we might not be\nknowing and wise like himself! What reason can there be that we, who\nhave capacious souls, able to receive knowledge, should have it\nwithheld? take it, you Fool, and eat; don't you see how I am exalted in\nsoul by it, and am quite another Creature? Take it_, I say, _or, if you\ndon't, I'll go and cut down the Tree, and you shall never eat any of it\nat all, and you shall be still a fool, and be governed by your wife for\never_.\nThus, if this interpretation of the thing be just, she Scolded him into\nit; Rated him, and brought him to it by the terror of her voice; a thing\nthat has retained a dreadful influence over him ever since; nor have the\ngreatest of _Adam_'s Successors, how light soever some husbands make of\nit in this age, been ever able, since that, to conceal their terror, at\nthe very Sound; nay, if we may believe history, it prevailed even among\nthe Gods; not all the noise of _Vulcan_'s hammers could silence the\nclamours of that outrageous whore his Goddess; nay, even _Jupiter_\nhimself led such a life with a termagant wife, that once, they say,\n_Juno_ out-scolded the noise of all his Thunders, and was within an ace\nof brawling him out of Heaven. But to return to the Devil.\nWith these views he resolv'd, it seems, to attack the woman; and if you\nconsider him as a Devil, and what he aim'd at, and consider the fair\nprospect he had of success, I must confess, I do not see who can blame\nhim, or at least, how any thing less could be expected from him; But we\nshall meet with it again by and by.\nCHAP. V.\n_Of the station Satan had in Heaven before he fell; the nature and\n     original of his crime, and some of Mr._ Milton_'s mistakes about\nThus far I have gone upon general observation, in this great affair of\n_Satan_ and his Empire in the World; I now come to _my Title_, and shall\nenter upon the historical part, as the main work before me.\nBesides what has been said Poetically, relating to the fall and\nwandering condition of the _Devil_ and his Host, which poetical part I\noffer only as an excursion, and desire it should be taken so; I shall\ngive you what I think is deduc'd from good originals on the part of\n_Satan_'s story in a few words.\nHe was one of the created Angels, form'd by the same omnipotent hand and\nglorious power, who created the Heavens and the Earth, and all that is\ntherein: This innumerable heavenly host, as we have reason to believe,\ncontain'd Angels of higher and lower stations, of greater and of lesser\ndegree, express'd in the Scripture by _Thrones_, _Dominions_, and\n_Principalities_: This, I think, we have as much reason to believe, as\nwe have, that there are Stars in the Firmament (or starry Heavens) of\ngreater and of lesser magnitude.\nWhat particular station among the immortal Choir of Angels, this\nArch-seraph, this Prince of _Devils_, call'd _Satan_, was plac'd in\nbefore his expulsion, that indeed, we cannot come at the knowledge of,\nat least, not with such an Authority as may be depended upon; but as\nfrom Scripture authority, he is plac'd at the head of all the Apostate\narmies, after he was fallen, we cannot think it in the least assuming to\nsay, that he might be supposed to be one of the principal Agents in the\n_Rebellion_ which happen'd in Heaven, and consequently that he might be\none of the highest in dignity there, before that Rebellion.\nThe higher his station, the lower, and with the greater precipitation,\nwas his overthrow; and therefore, those words, tho' taken in another\nsense, may very well be apply'd to him: _How art thou fallen_, O\nLucifer! _Son of the Morning!_\nHaving granted the dignity of his Person, and the high station in which\nhe was placed among the heavenly Host; it would come then necessarily to\ninquire into the nature of his fall, and _above all_, a little into the\nreason of it; certain it is, _he did fall_, was guilty of Rebellion and\nDisobedience, the just effect of Pride; sins, which, in that holy place,\nmight well be call'd wonderful.\nBut what to me is more wonderful, and which, I think, will be very ill\naccounted for, is, how came seeds of crime to rise in the Angelic\nNature? created in a state of perfect, unspotted holiness? how was it\nfirst found in a place where no unclean thing can enter? how came\nambition, pride, or envy to generate there? could there be offence where\nthere was no crime? could untainted purity breed corruption? could that\nnature contaminate and infect, which was always Drinking in principles\nof perfection?\nHappy 'tis to me, _that_ writing the History, _not_ solving the\nDifficulties of _Satan_'s Affairs, is my province in this Work; that I\nam to relate the Fact, not give reasons for it, or sign causes; if it\nwas otherwise, I should break off at this difficulty, for I acknowledge\nI do not see thro' it; neither do I think that the great _Milton_, after\nall his fine Images and lofty Excursions upon the Subject, has left it\none jot clearer than he found it: Some are of opinion, and among them\nthe great Dr. _B----s_, that crime broke in upon them at some interval,\nwhen they omitted but one moment fixing their eyes and thoughts on the\nglories of the divine face, to admire and adore, which is the full\nemployment of Angels; but even this, tho' it goes as high as imagination\ncan carry us, does not reach it, nor, to me, make it one jot more\ncomprehensible than it was before; all I can say to it here, is, that\n_so it was_, the fact was upon Record, and the rejected Troop are in\nbeing, whose circumstances confess the Guilt, and still groan under the\nPunishment.\nIf you will bear with a poetic excursion upon the subject, not to solve\nbut to illustrate the difficulty; take it in a few lines, thus,\n  Thou sin of Witchcraft! firstborn child of Crime!\n    Produc'd before the bloom of Time;\n  Ambition's maiden Sin, in Heaven conceiv'd,\n    And who could have believ'd\n  Defilement could in purity begin,\n  And bright eternal Day be soil'd with Sin?\n    Tell us, sly penetrating Crime,\n  How cam'st thou there, thou fault sublime?\n  How didst thou pass the Adamantine Gate;\n    And into Spirit thy self insinuate?\n    From what dark state? from what deep place?\n    From what strange uncreated race?\n  Where was thy ancient habitation found\n  Before void Chaos heard the forming sound?\n    Wast thou a Substance, or an airy Ghost,\n    A Vapour flying in the fluid waste\n      Of unconcocted air?\n    And how at first didst thou come there?\n  Sure there was once a time when thou wert not,\n  By whom wast thou created? and for what?\n  Art thou a steam from some contagious damp exhal'd?\n    How should contagion be intail'd,\n    On bright seraphic Spirits, and in a place\n  Where all's supreme, and Glory fills the Space?\n    No noxious vapour there could rise,\n  For there no noxious matter lies;\n    Nothing that's evil could appear,\n  Sin never could Seraphic Glory bear;\n  The brightness of the eternal Face,\n  Which fills as well as constitutes the place,\n  Would be a fire too hot for crime to bear,\n  'Twould calcine Sin, or melt it into air.\n    How then did first defilement enter in?\n  Ambition, thou first vital seed of Sin!\n  Thou Life of Death, how cam'st thou there?\n    In what bright form didst thou appear?\n    In what Seraphic Orb didst thou arise?\n  Surely that place admits of no disguise,\n    Eternal Sight must know thee there,\n    And being known, thou soon must disappear.\n    But since the fatal Truth we know,\n    Without the matter whence or manner how:\n  Thou high superlative of Sin,\n    Tell us thy nature, where thou didst begin?\n    The first degree of thy increase,\n  Debauch'd the Regions of eternal Peace,\n  And fill'd the breasts of loyal Angels there\n  With the first Treason and infernal War.\n    Thou art the high extreme of pride,\n  And dost o'er lesser crimes preside;\n  Not for the mean attempt of Vice design'd,\n  But to embroil the World, and damn Mankind.\n  Transforming mischief, now hast thou procur'd\n    That loss that ne'er to be restor'd,\n  And made the bright Seraphic Morning-star\n    In horrid monstrous shapes appear?\n    _Satan_, that while he dwelt in glorious light,\n  Was always then as pure as he was bright,\n  That in effulgent rays of glory shone,\n  Excell'd by eternal Light, by him alone,\n  Distorted now, and stript of Innocence,\n  And banish'd with thee from the high Pre-eminence,\n  How has the splendid Seraph chang'd his face,\n  Transform'd by thee, and like thy monstrous race?\n  Ugly as is the crime, for which he fell,               }\n  Fitted by thee to make a local Hell,                   }\n  For such must be the place where either of you dwell.  }\nThus, as I told you, I only moralize upon the subject, but as to the\ndifficulty, I must leave it as I find it, unless, _as I hinted at\nfirst_, I could prevail with Satan to set pen to paper, and write this\npart of his own History: No question, but he could let us into the\nsecret; but to be plain, I doubt I shall tell so many plain truths of\nthe _Devil_, in this History, and discover so many of his secrets, which\nit is not for his interest to have discover'd, that before I have done,\nthe _Devil_ and I may not be so good friends as you may suppose we are;\nat least, not friends enough to obtain such a favour of him, tho' it be\nfor public good; so we must be content till we come ont' other side the\n_Blue-Blanket_, and then we shall know the whole Story.\nBut now, tho' as I said, I will not attempt to solve the difficulty, I\nmay, I hope, venture to tell you, that there is not so much difficulty\nin it, as at first sight appears: and especially not so much as some\npeople would make us believe; let us see how others are mistaken in it,\nperhaps, that may help us a little in the enquiry; for to know _what it\nis not_, is one help towards knowing _what it is_.\nMr. _Milton_ has indeed told us a great many merry things of the Devil,\nin a most formal, solemn manner; till in short he has made a good PLAY\nof _Heaven_ and _Hell_; and no doubt if he had liv'd in our times, he\nmight have had it acted with our _Pluto_ and _Proserpine_. He has made\nfine Speeches both for _God_ and the _Devil_, and a little addition\nmight have turn'd it _a la modern_ into a _Harlequin Dieu & Diable_.\nI confess I don't well know how far the dominion of Poetry extends\nitself; it seems the Buts and Bounds of _Parnassus_ are not yet\nascertain'd; so that for ought I know, by vertue of their antient\nprivileges call'd _Licentia Poetarum_, there can be no _Blasphemy_ in\n_Verse_; as some of our Divines say there can be no _Treason_ in the\n_Pulpit_. But they that will venture to write that way, ought to be\nbetter satisfy'd about that Point than I am.\nUpon this foot Mr. _Milton_, to grace his Poem, and give room for his\nTowring Fancy, has gone a length beyond all that ever went before him,\nsince _Ovid_ in his _Metamorphosis_. He has indeed complimented GOD\n_Almighty_ with a flux of lofty words, and great sounds; and has made a\nvery fine Story of the _Devil_, but he has made a meer _je ne scay Quoi_\nof _Jesus Christ_. In one line he has him riding on a _Cherub_, and in\nanother sitting on a Throne, both in the very same moment of action. In\nanother place he has brought him in making a Speech to his _Saints_,\nwhen 'tis evident he had none there; for we all know _Man was not\ncreated till a long while after_; and no body can be so dull as to say\nthe _Angels_ may be called _Saints_, without the greatest absurdity in\nnature. Besides, he makes CHRIST himself distinguish them, as in two\nseveral Bands, and of differing Persons and Species, as to be sure they\nare.\n  Stand still in bright array, _ye Saints_------\n  _Par. Lost. lib._ vi. _fo._ 174.\nSo that CHRIST here is brought in drawing up his Army before the last\nBattle, and making a Speech to them, to tell them they shall only stand\nby in warlike order, but that they shall have no occasion to fight, for\nhe alone will engage the Rebels. Then in embattling his Legions, he\nplaces the Saints here, and the Angels there, as if one were the main\nBattle of Infantry, and the other the Wings of Cavalry. But who are\nthose Saints? they are indeed all of _Milton_'s own making; 'tis certain\nthere were no Saints at all in _Heaven_ or _Earth_ at that time; GOD and\nhis _Angels_ fill'd up the place; and till some of the _Angels_ fell,\nand Men were created, had liv'd, and were dead, there could have been no\n_Saints_ there. Saint _Abel_ was certainly the _Proto-Saint_ of all that\never were seen in _Heaven_, as well as the Proto-martyr of all that have\nbeen upon _Earth_.\nJust such another Mistake, not to call it a Blunder, he makes about\n_Hell_; which he not only makes LOCAL, but gives it a being before the\nFall of the _Angels_; and brings it in opening its mouth to receive\nthem. This is so contrary to the nature of the thing, and so great an\nabsurdity, that no Poetic License can account for it; for tho' Poesie\nmay form Stories, as Idea and Fancy may furnish Materials, yet Poesy\nmust not break in upon Chronology, and make things which in time were to\nexist, act before they existed.\nThus a Painter may make a fine piece of Work, the fancy may be good, the\nstrokes masterly, and the beauty of the Workmanship inimitably curious\nand fine, and yet have some unpardonable improprieties which marr the\nwhole Work. So the famous Painter of _Toledo_ painted the story of the\nthree Wisemen of the _East_ coming to worship, and bring their presents\nto our Lord upon his birth at _Bethlehem_, where he represents them as\nthree _Arabian_ or _Indian_ Kings; two of them are white, and one black;\nBut unhappily when he drew the latter part of them kneeling, which to be\nsure was done after their faces; their legs being necessarily a little\nintermix'd, he made three black feet for the _Negroe_ King, and but\nthree white feet for the two white Kings, and yet never discover'd the\nmistake till the piece was presented to the King, and hung up in the\ngreat Church. As this is an unpardonable error in Sculpture or Limning,\nit must be much more so in Poetry, where the Images must have no\nimproprieties, much less inconsistencies.\nIn a word, Mr. _Milton_ has indeed made a fine Poem, but it is _the\nDevil of a History_. I can easily allow Mr. _Milton_ to make Hills and\nDales, flowry Meadows and Plains (and the like) in Heaven; and places of\nRetreat and Contemplation in _Hell_; tho' I must add, that it can be\nallowed to no Poet on Earth but Mr. _Milton_. Nay, I will allow Mr.\n_Milton_, if you please, to set the _Angels_ a dancing in _Heaven_,\n_lib._ v. _fo._ 138. and the _Devils_ a singing in Hell, _lib._ i. _fo._\n44. tho' they are in short, especially the last, most horrid\nAbsurdities. But I cannot allow him to make their Musick in _Hell_ to be\nharmonious and charming as he does; such Images being incongruous, and\nindeed shocking to Nature. Neither can I think we should allow things to\nbe plac'd out of time in Poetry, any more than in History; 'tis a\nconfusion of Images which is allow'd to be disallow'd by all the\nCriticks of what tribe or species soever in the world, and is indeed\nunpardonable. But we shall find so many more of these things in Mr.\n_Milton_, that really taking notice of them all, would carry me quite\nout of my way, I being at this time not writing the History of Mr.\n_Milton_, but of the _Devil_: besides, Mr. _Milton_ is such a\ncelebrated Man, that who but he that can write the History of the\n_Devil_ dare meddle with him?\nBut to come back to the business. As I had caution'd you against running\nto Scripture for shelter in cases of difficulty, Scripture weighing very\nlittle among the people I am directing my Speech to; so indeed Scripture\ngives but very little light into any thing of the _Devil_'s Story before\nhis Fall, and but _to very little_ of it for some time after.\nNor has Mr. _Milton_ said one word to solve the main difficulty (_viz._)\nHow the _Devil_ came to fall, and how Sin came into Heaven; how the\nspotless Seraphic Nature could receive infection, whence the contagion\nproceeded, what noxious matter could emit corruption there, how and\nwhence any vapour to poison the Angelick Frame could rise up, or how it\nincreas'd and grew up to crime. But all this he passes over, and\nhurrying up that part in two or three words, only tells us,\n  Had cast him out of Heaven with all his Host\n  Of rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring\n  He trusted to have equal'd the most High.\n_His pride!_ but how came _Satan_ while an Arch-angel to be proud? How\ndid it consist, that Pride and perfect Holiness should meet in the same\nPerson? Here we must bid Mr. _Milton_ good night; for, in plain terms,\nhe is in the dark about it, and so we are all; and the most that can be\nsaid, is, that we know the fact is so, but nothing of the nature or\nreason of it.\nBut to come to the History: The Angels fell, they sinn'd (wonderful!) in\nHeaven, and God cast them out; what their sin was is not explicit, but\nin general 'tis call'd a Rebellion against GOD; all sin must be so.\nMr. _Milton_ here takes upon him to give the History of it, as\nparticularly as if he had been born there, and came down hither on\npurpose to give us an account of it; (I hope he is better inform'd by\nthis time;) but this he does in such a manner, as jostles with Religion,\nand shocks our Faith in so many points necessary to be believ'd, that we\nmust forbear to give up to Mr. _Milton_, or must set aside part of the\nsacred Text, in such a manner, as will assist some people to set it all\naside.\nI mean by this, his invented Scheme of the Son's being declared in\nHeaven to be begotten then, and then to be declar'd Generalissimo of all\nthe Armies of Heaven; and of the Father's Summoning all the Angels of\nthe heavenly Host to submit to him, and pay him homage. The words are\nquoted already, page 32.\nI must own the Invention, indeed, is very fine; the Images exceeding\nmagnificent, the Thought rich and bright, and, in some respect, truly\nsublime: But the Authorities fail most wretchedly, and the miss-timing\nof it, is unsufferably gross, as is noted in the Introduction to this\nWork; for Christ is not declar'd the Son of God but on Earth; 'tis true,\n'tis spoken from Heaven, but then 'tis spoken as perfected on Earth; if\nit was at all to be assign'd to Heaven, it was from Eternity, and there,\nindeed, his eternal Generation is allow'd; but to take upon us to say,\nthat _On a day, a certain day_, for so our Poet assumes, lib. v. fol.\n  'As Heaven's great Year brings forth, the empyreal Host\n  'Of Angels by imperial Summons call'd,\n  'Forthwith from all the ends of Heaven appear'd.\nThis is, indeed, too gross; at this meeting he makes God declare the Son\nto be _that day begotten_, as before; had he made him not begotten that\nday, but declared General that day, it would be reconcileable with\nScripture and with sense; for either the begetting is meant of ordaining\nto an office, or else the eternal Generation falls to the ground; and if\nit was to the office (Mediator) then Mr. _Milton_ is out in ascribing\nanother fix'd day to the Work; see lib. x. fo. 194. But then the\ndeclaring him _that day_, is wrong chronology too, for Christ is\ndeclar'd _the Son of God with power_, only _by the Resurrection of the\ndead_, and this is both a Declaration in Heaven and in Earth. _Rom._ i.\n4. And _Milton_ can have no authority to tell us, there was any\nDeclaration of it in Heaven before this, except it be that dull\nauthority call'd _poetic License_, which will not pass in so solemn an\naffair as that.\nBut the thing was necessary to _Milton_, who wanted to assign some cause\nor original of the _Devil_'s Rebellion; and so, _as I said above_, the\ndesign is well laid, it only wants two Trifles call'd _Truth_ and\n_History_; so I leave it to struggle for itself.\nThis Ground-plot being laid, he has a fair field for the _Devil_ to play\nthe Rebel in, for he immediately brings him in, not satisfy'd with the\nExaltation of the Son of God. The case must be thus; _Satan_ being an\neminent _Arch-angel_, and perhaps, the highest of all the Angelic Train,\nhearing this Sovereign Declaration, that the _Son of God_ was declar'd\nto be Head or Generalissimo of all the heavenly Host, took it ill to see\nanother put into the high station _over his head_, as the Soldiers call\nit; he, perhaps, thinking himself the senior Officer, and disdaining to\nsubmit to any but to his former immediate Sovereign; in short, he threw\nup his Commission, and, in order not to be compel'd to obey, revolted\nand broke out in open Rebellion.\nAll this part is a Decoration noble and great, nor is there any\nobjection to be made against the invention, because a deduction of\nprobable Events; but the Plot is wrong laid, as is observ'd above,\nbecause contradicted by the Scripture account, according to which Christ\nwas declared in Heaven, not then, but from Eternity, and not declared\nwith power, but on Earth, (_viz._) in his victory over Sin and Death, by\nthe Resurrection from the dead: so that Mr. _Milton_ is not orthodox in\nthis part, but lays an avow'd foundation for the corrupt Doctrine of\n_Arius_, which says, there was a time when Christ _was not_ the Son of\nGOD.\nBut to leave Mr. _Milton_ to his flights, I agree with him in this part,\n_viz._ that the wicked or sinning Angels, with the great Arch-angel at\nthe head of them, revolted from their obedience, even in Heaven it self;\nthat _Satan_ began the wicked defection, and being a Chief among the\nheavenly Host, consequently carry'd over a great party with him, who all\ntogether rebel'd against God; that upon this Rebellion they were\nsentenc'd, by the righteous judgment of GOD, to be expel'd the holy\nHabitation; this, besides the authority of Scripture, we have visible\ntestimonies of, from the Devils themselves; their influences and\noperations among us every day, of which Mankind are witnesses; in all\nthe merry things they do in his name, and under his protection, in\nalmost every scene of life they pass thro', whether we talk of things\ndone openly or in Masquerade, things done in--or out of it, things done\nin earnest or in jest.\nBut then, what comes of the long and bloody War that Mr. _Milton_ gives\nsuch a full and particular account of, and the terrible Battles in\nHeaven between _Michael_ with the royal Army of Angels on one hand, and\n_Satan_ with his rebel Host on the other; in which he supposes the\nnumbers and strength to be pretty near equal? but at length brings in\nthe _Devil_'s Army, upon doubling their rage and bringing new engines of\nwar into the field, putting _Michael_ and all the faithful Army to the\nworst; and, in a word, defeats them? For tho' they were not put to a\nplain flight, in which case he must, at least, have given an account of\ntwo or three thousand millions of Angels cut in pieces and wounded, yet\nhe allows them to give over the fight, and make a kind of retreat; so\nmaking way for the compleat victory of the Son of GOD: Now this is all\ninvention, or at least, a borrow'd thought from the old Poets, and the\nFight of the _Giants_ against _Jupiter_, so nobly design'd by _Ovid_,\nalmost two thousand years ago; and there 'twas well enough; but whether\nPoetic Fancy should be allow'd to fable upon _Heaven_, or no, and upon\nthe King of Heaven too, that I leave to the Sages.\nBy this expulsion of the _Devils_, it is allow'd by most Authors, they\nare, _ipso facto_, stript of the Rectitude and Holiness of their Nature,\nwhich was their Beauty and Perfection; and being ingulph'd in the abyss\nof irrecoverable ruin, _'tis no matter where_, from that very time they\nlost their Angelic beautiful Form, commenc'd ugly frightful Monsters and\n_Devils_, and became evil doers, as well as evil Spirits; fill'd with a\nhorrid malignity and enmity against their Maker, and arm'd with a\nhellish resolution to shew and exert it on all occasions; retaining\nhowever their exalted spirituous Nature, and having a vast extensive\npower of Action, all which they can exert in nothing else but doing\nevil, for they are entirely divested of either Power or will to do good;\nand even in doing evil, they are under restraints and limitations of a\nsuperior Power, which it is their Torment, and, perhaps, a great part of\ntheir Hell that they cannot break thro'.\nCHAP. VI.\n_What became of the_ Devil _and his Host of fallen Spirits after their\n     being expell'd from Heaven, and his wandring condition till the\n     Creation; with some more of Mr._ Milton's _absurdities on that\n     subject._\nHaving thus brought the _Devil_ and his innumerable Legions to the edge\nof the Bottomless-pit, it remains, before I bring them to action, that\nsome enquiry should be made into the posture of their affairs\nimmediately after their precipitate Fall, and into the place of their\nimmediate Residence; for this will appear to be very necessary to\n_Satan_'s History, and indeed, so as that without it, all the farther\naccount we have to give of him, will be inconsistent and imperfect.\nAnd first, I take upon me to lay down some Fundamentals, which I believe\nI shall be able to make out Historically, tho', perhaps, not so\nGeographically as some have pretended to do.\n     1. That _Satan_ was not immediately, nor is yet lock'd down into\n     the Abyss of a _local Hell_, such as is supposed by some, and such\n     as he shall be at last; or that,\n     2. If he was, he has certain liberties allowed him for excursions\n     into the Regions of this Air, and certain spheres of action, in\n     which he can, and does move, to do, _like a very Devil as he is_,\n     all the mischief he can, and of which we see so many examples both\n     about us and in us; in the inquiry after which, I shall take\n     occasion to examine whether the Devil is not in most of us,\n     sometimes, if not in all of us one time or other.\n     3. That _Satan_ has no particular residence in this Globe or Earth\n     where we live; that he rambles about among us, and marches over and\n     over our whole country, he and his Devils in _Camps volant_; but\n     that he pitches his grand Army or chief Encampment in our\n     Adjacencies or Frontiers, which the Philosophers call _Atmosphere_;\n     and whence he is call'd the Prince of the Power of that Element or\n     part of the World we call _Air_; from whence he sends out his\n     Spies, his Agents and Emissaries, to get intelligence, and to carry\n     his Commissions to his trusty and well beloved Cousins and\n     Counsellors on Earth, by which his business is done, and his\n     affairs carried on in the World.\nHere, again, I meet Mr. _Milton_ full in my face, who will have it, that\n_the Devil_, immediately at his expulsion, roll'd down directly into a\nHell proper and local; nay, he measures the very distance, at least\ngives the length of the journey by the time they were passing or\nfalling, which, he says, was _nine days_; a good Poetical flight, but\nneither founded on Scripture or Philosophy; he might every jot as well\nhave brought _Hell_ up to the Walls of _Heaven_, advanc'd to receive\nthem, or he ought to have consider'd the space which is to be allow'd\nto any locality, let him take what part of infinite distance between\n_Heaven_ and a created Hell he pleases.\nBut let that be as Mr. _Milton_'s extraordinary genius pleases to place\nit; the passage, it seems, is just _nine days_ betwixt Heaven and Hell;\nwell might _Dives_ then see father _Abraham_, and talk to him too; but\nthen the great Gulph which _Abraham_ tells him was fix'd between them,\ndoes not seem to be so large, as according to Sir _Isaac Newton_, Dr.\n_Halley_, Mr. _Whiston_, and the rest of our Men of Science, we take it\nto be.\nBut suppose the passage to be nine Days, according to Mr. _Milton_, what\nfollow'd? why Hell gap'd wide, open'd its frightful mouth, and received\nthem all at once; millions and thousands of millions as they were, it\nreceived them all at a gulp, _as we call it_, they had no difficulty to\ngo in, no, none at all.\n    _Facilis desensus averni, sed revocare gradum\n  Hoc opus hic labor est._----          Virg.\nAll this, as Poetical, we may receive, but not at all as Historical; for\nthen come difficulties insuperable in our way, some of which may be as\nfollow: (1.) Hell is here supposed to be a place; nay a place created\nfor the punishment of Angels and Men, and likewise created long before\nthose had fallen, or these had Being; this makes me say, Mr. _Milton_\nwas a good Poet, but a bad Historian: _Tophet_ was prepar'd of old,\nindeed, but it was for the King, that is to say, it was prepar'd for\nthose whose lot it should be to come there; but this does not at all\nsuppose it was prepar'd before it was resolv'd whether there should be\nsubjects for it, or no; else we must suppose both Men and Angels were\nmade by the glorious and upright Maker of all things, on purpose for\ndestruction, which would be incongruous and absurd.\nBut there is worse yet to come; in the next place he adds, that _Hell_\nhaving receiv'd them, clos'd upon them; that is to say, took them in,\nclos'd or shut its Mouth; and in a word, they were lock'd in, as it was\nsaid in another place, they were lock'd in, and the Key is carry'd up to\nHeaven and kept there; for _we know_ the Angel came down from Heaven,\nhaving the Key of the Bottomless-pit; but first, see Mr. _Milton_.\n  'Nine days they fell, confounded chaos roar'd\n  'And felt ten-fold confusion in their fall:\n  'Yawning receiv'd them all, and on them clos'd;\n  'Down from the verge of Heaven, eternal wrath\n  'Burnt after them----\n  'Unquenchable.\nThis Scheme is certainly deficient, if not absurd, and I think is more\nso than any other he has laid; 'tis evident, neither _Satan_ or his Host\nof _Devils_ are, _no not any of them_, yet, even now, confin'd in the\neternal Prison, where the Scripture says, he shall be _reserved in\nchains of darkness_. They must have mean thoughts of _Hell_, as a\nPrison, a _local_ Confinement, that can suppose the _Devil_ able to\nbreak Goal, knock off his Fetters, and come abroad, if he had been once\nlock'd in there, as Mr. _Milton_ says he was: Now we know that he is\nabroad again, he presented himself before _God_, among his neighbours,\nwhen _Job_'s case came to be discours'd of; and more than that, it's\nplain he was a prisoner at large, by his answer to God's question, which\nwas, _whence comest thou?_ to which he answer'd, _from going to and fro\nthro' the Earth_, &c. this, I say, is plain, and if it be as certain\nthat Hell closed upon them, I demand then, how got he out? and why was\nthere not a Proclamation for apprehending him, as there usually is,\nafter such Rogues as break prison?\nIn short, the true Account of the _Devil_'s Circumstances, since his\nFall from _Heaven_, is much more likely to be thus: That he is more of a\nVagrant than a Prisoner, that he is a Wanderer in the wild unbounded\nWast, where he and his Legions, like the Hoords of _Tartary_, who, in\nthe wild Countries of _Karakathay_, the Desarts of _Barkan_, _Kassan_,\nand _Astracan_, live up and down where they find proper; so Satan and\nhis innumerable Legions rove about _hic & ubique_, pitching their Camps\n(being Beasts of prey) where they find the most Spoil; watching over\nthis World, (and all the other Worlds for ought we know, and if there\nare any such,) I say watching, and seeking who they may devour, _that\nis_, who they may deceive and delude, and so destroy, for devour they\ncannot.\n_Satan_ being thus confin'd to a vagabond, wandring, unsettl'd\nCondition, is without any certain Abode; For tho' he has, in consequence\nof his Angelic Nature, a kind of Empire in the liquid Wast or _Air_;\nyet, this is certainly part of his punishment, that he is continually\nhovering over this inhabited Globe of Earth; swelling with the Rage of\nEnvy, at the Felicity of his Rival, Man; and studying all the means\npossible to injure and ruin him; but extremely limited in Power, to his\nunspeakable Mortification: This is his present State, without any fix'd\nAbode, Place, or Space, allow'd him to rest the Sole of his Foot upon.\nFrom his Expulsion, I take his first View of Horror to be that, of\nlooking back towards the Heaven which he had lost; there to see the\nChasm or Opening made up, out at which, as at a Breach in the Wall of\nthe holy Place, he was thrust Head-long by the Power which expel'd him;\nI say, to see the Breach repair'd, the Mounds built up, the Walls\ngarison'd with millions of Angels, and arm'd with Thunders; and, above\nall, made terrible by that Glory from whose Presence they were expel'd,\nas is Poetically hinted at before.\nUpon this sight, 'tis no wonder (if there was such a Place) that they\nfled till the Darkness might cover them, and that they might be out of\nthe View of so hated a Sight.\nWherever they found it, you may be sure they pitch'd their first Camp,\nand began, after many a sour Reflection upon what was pass'd, to\nconsider and think a little, upon what was to come.\nIf I had as much personal Acquaintance with the _Devil_, as would admit\nit, and could depend upon the Truth of what Answer he would give me, the\nfirst Question I would ask him, should be, what Measures they resolv'd\non at their first Assembly? and the next should be, how they were\nemploy'd in all that space of Time, between their so flying the Face of\ntheir almighty Conqueror, and the Creation of Man? as for the Length of\nthe Time, which, according to the Learn'd, was twenty thousand Years,\nand according to the more Learned, not half a Quarter so much, I would\nnot concern my Curiosity much about it; 'tis most certain, there was a\nconsiderable time between, but of that immediately; first let me enquire\nwhat they were doing all that time.\nThe Devil and his Host, being thus, I say, cast out of Heaven, and not\nyet confin'd strictly to _Hell_, 'tis plain they must be _some where_.\nSatan and all his Legions did not lose their Existence, no, nor the\nExistence of _Devils_ neither; GOD was so far from annihilating him,\nthat he still preserv'd his Being; and this not Mr. _Milton_ only, but\nGOD himself has made known to us, having left his History so far upon\nrecord; several expressions in Scripture also make it evident, as\nparticularly the story of _Job_, mentioned before; the like in our\nSaviour's time, and several others.\nIf Hell did not immediately ingulph them, as _Milton_ suggests, 'tis\ncertain, I say, that they fled Somewhere, from the anger of Heaven, from\nthe face of the Avenger; and his absence, and their own guilt, _wonder\nnot at it_, would make Hell enough for them wherever they went.\nNor need we fly to the Dreams of our _Astronomers_, who take a great\ndeal of pains to fill up the vast Spaces of the starry Heavens with\ninnumerable habitable Worlds; allowing as many _solar Systems_ as there\nare fix'd Stars, and that not only in the known Constellations, but even\nin _Gallaxie_ it self; who, to every such System allow a certain number\nof Planets, and to every one of those Planets so many _Satellites_ or\n_Moons_, and all these Planets and Moons to be Worlds; solid, dark,\nopaque Bodies, habitable, and (as they would have us believe) inhabited\nby the like Animals and rational Creatures as on this Earth; so that\nthey may, at this rate, find room enough for the _Devil_ and all his\nAngels, without making a Hell on purpose; nay they may, for ought I\nknow, find a World for every _Devil_ in all the _Devil'_s _Host_, and so\nevery one may be a Monarch or _Master-Devil_, separately in his own\nSphere or World, and play the _Devil_ there by himself.\nAnd even if this were so, it cannot be denied but that one _Devil_ in a\nplace would be enough for a whole systemary World, and be able, if not\nrestrained, to do mischief enough there too, and even to ruin and\noverthrow the whole body of People contain'd in it.\nBut, I say, we need not fly to these shifts, or consult the Astronomers\nin the decision of this point; for wherever _Satan_ and his defeated\nHost went, at their expulsion from _Heaven_, we think we are certain,\nnone of all these Beautiful Worlds, or be they Worlds or no, I mean the\nfix'd Stars, Planets, _&c._ had then any existence; for the Beginning,\nas the Scripture calls it, was not yet Begun.\nBut to speak a little by the rules of Philosophy, that is to say, so as\nto be understood by others, even when we speak of things we cannot fully\nunderstand ourselves: Tho' in the Beginning of Time all this glorious\nCreation was form'd, the Earth, the starry Heavens, and all the\nFurniture thereof, and there was a Time when they were not; yet we\ncannot say so of the Void, or that nameless _no-where_, as I call'd it\nbefore, which now appears to be a _some-where_, in which these glorious\nBodies are plac'd. That immense Space which those take up, and which\nthey move in at this Time, must be supposed, before they had Being, to\nbe plac'd there: As God himself was, and existed before all Being, Time,\nor Place, so the Heaven of Heavens, or the Place, where the Thrones and\nDominions of his Kingdom then existed, inconceivable and ineffable, had\nan existence before the glorious Seraphs, the innumerable company of\nAngels which attended about the Throne of God existed; these all had a\nBeing long before, as the Eternal Creator of them all had before them.\nInto this void or abyss of Nothing, however unmeasurable, infinite, and\neven to those Spirits, themselves Inconceivable, they certainly launch'd\nfrom the bright Precipice which they fell from, and here they shifted as\nwell as they could.\nHere expanding those Wings which Fear, and Horror at their Defeat\nfurnish'd them, as I hinted before, they hurried away to the utmost\nDistance possible, from the Face of GOD their Conqueror, and then most\ndreaded Enemy; formerly their Joy and Glory.\nBe this utmost remov'd Distance _where it will_, Here, certainly,\n_Satan_ and all his _Gang of Devils_, his numberless, tho' routed Armies\nretired. Here _Milton_ might, with some good Ground, have form'd his\n_Pandemonium_, and have brought them in, consulting what was next to be\ndone, and whether there was any room left to renew the War, or to carry\non the Rebellion; but had they been cast immediately into _Hell_, closed\nup there, the Bottomless pit lock'd upon them, and the Key carried up to\n_Heaven_ to be kept there, as Mr. _Milton_ himself in part confesses,\nand the Scripture affirms; I say, had this been so, the _Devil_ himself\ncould not have been so ignorant as to think of any future Steps to be\ntaken, to retrieve his Affairs, and therefore a _Pandemonium_ or Divan\nin Hell, to consult of it, was ridiculous.\nAll Mr. _Milton_'s Scheme of _Satan_'s future Conduct, and all the\nScripture Expressions about _the Devil_ and his numerous Attendants, and\nof his actings since that time, make it not reasonable to suggest that\nthe _Devils_ were confin'd to their eternal Prison, at their Expulsion\nout of _Heaven_; But that they were in a State of Liberty to act, tho'\nlimited in acting, of which I shall also speak in its place.\nCHAP. VII.\n_Of the Number of Satan's Host; how they came first to know of the new\n     created Worlds, now in being, and their Measures with Mankind upon\n     the Discovery._\nSeveral things have been suggested to set us a calculating the number of\nthis frightful throng of _Devils_, who with Satan, the _Master-Devil_,\nwas thus cast out of _Heaven_; I cannot say, I am so much Master of\nPolitical Arithmetick as to cast up the Number of the Beast, no, nor the\nNumber of the Beasts _or Devils_, who make up this Throng. St.\n_Francis_, they tell us, or some other Saint, they do not say who, ask'd\nthe _Devil_ once, how strong he was? for St. _Francis_, you must know,\nwas very familiar with him; _The Devil_, it seems, did not tell him, but\npresently raised a great Cloud of Dust, by the help, I suppose, of a\nGust of Wind, and bid that Saint count it; He was, I suppose, a\nCalculator, that would be call'd grave, who dividing _Satan_'s Troops\ninto three Lines, cast up the Number of the _Devils_ of all sorts in\neach Battalia, at ten hundred times a hundred thousand millions of the\nfirst Line, fifty millions of times as many in the second Line, and\nthree hundred thousand times as many as both in the third Line.\nThe Impertinence of this account would hardly have given it a place\nhere, only to hint that it has always been the Opinion, that _Satan_'s\nName may well be call'd a Noun of Multitude, and that _the Devil_ and\nhis _Angels_ are certainly no inconsiderable Number: It was a smart\nRepartee that a _Venetian_ Nobleman made to a Priest who rallied him\nupon his refusing to give something to the Church, which the Priest\ndemanded for the delivering him from Purgatory; when the Priest asking\nhim, _if he knew what an innumerable Number of_ Devils _there were to\ntake him_? he answer'd, _yes, he knew how many_ Devils _there were in\nall_: _How many?_ says the Priest, his curiosity, I suppose, being\nrais'd by the novelty of the answer. _Why ten millions five hundred and\neleven thousand, six hundred and seventy five Devils and a half_, says\nthe Nobleman: _A half!_ says the Priest, _pray what kind of a Devil is\nthat? your self_, says the Nobleman, _for you are half a Devil already\n(and will be a whole one when you come there) for you are for deluding\nall you deal with, and bringing us Soul and Body into your Hands, that\nyou may be paid for letting us go again_. So much for their Number.\nHere also it would come in very aptly, to consider the state of that\nlong interval between the Time of their Expulsion from _Heaven_, and the\nCreation of the World; and what the Posture of the Devil's Affairs might\nbe, during that Time. The horror of their Condition can only be\nconceiv'd of at a Distance, and especially by us, who being embodied\nCreatures, cannot fully judge of what is, or is not a Punishment to\n_Seraphs_ and _Spirits_; But 'tis just to suppose they suffer'd all that\nSpirits of a Seraphic Nature were capable to sustain, consistent with\ntheir Existence; notwithstanding which they retain'd still the\n_Hellishness_ of their rebellious Principles; namely, their Hatred and\nRage against God, and their Envy at the Felicity of his Creatures.\nAs to how long their time might be, I shall leave that Search; no lights\nbeing given me that are either probable or rational, and we have so\nlittle room to make a Judgment of it, that we may as well believe Father\n_M----_, who supposes it to be a hundred thousand Years, as those who\njudge it one thousand Years; 'tis enough that we are sure, it was before\nthe Creation, how long before is not material to _the Devil's History_,\nunless we had some Records of what happen'd to him, or was done by him\nin the Interval.\nDuring the wandring Condition the Devil was in at that Time, we may\nsuppose, he and his whole Clan to be employ'd in exerting their Hatred\nand Rage at the Almighty, and at the Happiness of the remaining faithful\nAngels, by all the ways they had power to shew it.\nFrom this determin'd stated Enmity of _Satan_ and his Host against\n_God_, and at every thing that brought Glory to his Name, Mr. _Milton_\nbrings in _Satan_, (when first he saw _Adam_ in _Paradise_, and the\nFelicity of his Station there) swelling with Rage and Envy, and taking\nup a dreadful Resolution to ruin _Adam_ and all his Posterity, meerly to\ndisappoint his Maker of the Glory of his Creation; I shall come to speak\nof that in its Place.\nHow _Satan_, in his remote Situation, got Intelligence of the Place\nwhere to find _Adam_ out, or that any such thing as a Man was created,\nis Matter of just Speculation, and there might be many rational Schemes\nlaid for it: Mr. _Milton_ does not undertake to tell us the Particulars,\nnor indeed could he find room for it; perhaps, the _Devil_ having, _as I\nhave said_, a Liberty to range over the whole Void or Abyss, which we\nwant as well a Name for, as indeed Powers to conceive of; might have\ndiscovered that the Almighty Creator had form'd a new and glorious Work,\nwith infinite Beauty and Variety, filling up the immense Wast of Space,\nin which he, (the _Devil_) and his _Angels_, had rov'd for so long a\ntime, without finding any thing to work on, or to exert their Apostate\nRage in against their Maker.\nThat at length they found the infinite untrodden Space, on a sudden\nspread full with glorious Bodies, shining in self-existing Beauty, with\na new, and to them unknown Lustre, call'd Light: They found these\nluminous Bodies, tho' immense in Bulk, and infinite in Number, yet fixt\nin their wondrous Stations, regular and exact in their Motions, confin'd\nin their proper Orbits, tending to their particular Centers, and\nenjoying every one their peculiar Systems, within which was contain'd\ninnumerable Planets with their Satellites or Moons, in which (_again_) a\nreciprocal Influence, Motion and Revolution conspired to Form the most\nadmirable Uniformity of the whole.\nSurprized, to be sure, with this sudden and yet glorious Work of the\nAlmighty; for the Creation was enough, with its Lustre, even to surprize\n_the Devils_; they might reasonably be supposed to start out of their\ndark Retreat, and with a Curiosity not below the Seraphic Dignity; for\n_these are_ some of _the things which the Angels desire to look into_,\nto take a flight thro' all the amazing Systems of the fix'd Suns or\nStars, which we see now but at a Distance, and only make Astronomical\nGuesses at.\nHere the Devil found not subject of Wonder only, but matter to swell his\nrevolted Spirit with more Rage, and to revive the Malignity of his Mind\nagainst his Maker, and especially against this new encrease of Glory,\nwhich to his infinite Regret was extended over the whole Wast, and which\nhe look'd upon, as we say in human Affairs, as a _Pays conquis_, or, if\nyou will have it in the Language of the _Devil_, as an invasion upon his\nKingdom.\nHere it naturally occur'd to them, in their State of Envy and Rebellion,\nthat tho' they could not assault the impregnable Walls of Heaven, and\ncould no more pretend to raise War in the Place of Blessedness and\nPeace; yet that perhaps they might find Room in this new, and however\nglorious, yet inferior Kingdom or Creation, to work some despite to\ntheir great Creator, or to affront his Majesty in the Person of some of\nhis new made Creatures; and upon this they may be justly supposed to\ndouble their Vigilance, in the survey they resolve to take of these new\nWorlds, however great, numberless and wonderful.\nWhat Discoveries they may have made in the other and greater Worlds,\nthan this Earth, we have not yet had an account; possibly they are\nconversant with other Parts of God's Creation, besides this little\nlittle Globe, which is but as a Point in comparison of the Rest; and\nwith other of God's Creatures besides Man, who may, according to the\nOpinion of our Philosophers, inhabit those Worlds; but as no body knows\nthat Part but the _Devil_, we shall not trouble our selves with the\nEnquiry.\nBut 'tis very reasonable, and indeed probable, that _the Devils_ were\nmore than ordinarily surpriz'd at the Nature and Reason of all this\nglorious Creation, after they had, with the utmost Curiosity, view'd all\nthe parts of it; The Glories of the several Systems; the immense spaces\nin which those glorious Bodies that were created and made part of it,\nwere allow'd respectively to move; the innumerable fix'd Stars, as so\nmany Suns in the Center of so many distant _Solar Systems_; the\n(likewise innumerable) dark opaque Bodies receiving light, and depending\nupon those Suns respectively for such light, and then reflecting that\nlight again upon and for the Use of one another; To see the Beauty and\nSplendor of their Forms, the Regularity of their Position, the Order and\nExactness, and yet inconceivable Velocity of their Motions, the\ncertainty of their Revolutions, and the Variety and Virtue of their\nInfluences; and then, which was even to the Devils themselves most\nastonishing, That after all the rest of their Observations they should\nfind this whole immense Work was adapted for, and made subservient to\nthe Use, Delight and Blessing only of one poor Species, in itself small,\nand in Appearance contemptible; the meanest of all the Kinds supposed to\ninhabit so many glorious Worlds, as appeared now to be form'd; I mean,\nthat Moon call'd the Earth, and the Creature call'd Man; that all was\nmade for him, upheld by the wise Creator, on his account only, and would\nnecessarily end and cease whenever that Species should end and be\ndetermin'd.\nThat this Creature was to be found no where but (as above) in one little\nindividual _Moon_; a Spot less than almost any of the Moons, which were\nin such great Numbers to be found attendant upon, and prescrib'd with in\nevery System of the whole created Heavens; This was astonishing even to\nthe _Devil_ himself, nay the whole Clan of _Devils_ could scarce\nentertain any just Ideas of the thing; Till at last _Satan_,\nindefatigable in his Search or Enquiry into the Nature and Reason of\nthis new Work, and particularly searching into the Species of Man, whom\nhe found God had thus plac'd in the little Globe, call'd _Earth_; he\nsoon came to an _Eclairicissement_, or a clear Understanding of the\nwhole. _For Example_,\n     _First_, He found this Creature, call'd Man, was however mean and\n     small in his Appearance, a kind of a Seraphic Species; that he was\n     made in the very Image of God, endowed with reasonable Faculties to\n     know Good and Evil, and possess'd of a certain thing till then\n     unknown and unheard of even in Hell it self; that is, in the\n     Habitation of Devils, let that be where it would, (_viz._)\n     2. That GOD had made him indeed of the lowest and coarsest\n     Materials, but that he had breath'd into him the Breath of Life,\n     and that he became a living thing call'd SOUL, being a kind of an\n     extraordinary heavenly and divine Emanation; and consequently that\n     Man, however mean and Terrestrial his Body might be, was yet,\n     Heaven-born, in his spirituous Part compleatly Seraphic; and after\n     a Space of Life here, (determin'd to be a state of probation) he\n     should be translated thro' the Regions of Death into a Life purely\n     and truly Heavenly, and which should remain so for ever; being\n     capable of knowing and enjoying God his Maker, and standing in his\n     Presence, as the glorified Angels do.\n     3. That he had the most sublime Faculties infused into him; was\n     capable not only of knowing and contemplating God, and which was\n     still more, of enjoying him, as above; but (which the _Devil_ now\n     was not) capable of honouring and glorifying his Maker; who also\n     had condescended to accept of Honour from him.\n     4. And which was still more, that being of an Angelic Nature, tho'\n     mix'd with, and confined for the present in a Case of mortal Flesh;\n     he was intended to be remov'd from this Earth after a certain time\n     of Life here, to inhabit that Heaven, and enjoy that very Glory and\n     Felicity, from which Satan and his Angels had been expell'd.\nWhen he found all this, it presently occur'd to him, that God had done\nit all as an act of Triumph over him (Satan,) and that these Creatures\nwere only created to people Heaven, depopulated or stript of its\ninhabitants by his Expulsion, and that these were all to be made\n_Angels_ in the _Devil_'s stead.\nIf this thought encreas'd his Fury and Envy, as far as _Rage of Devils_\ncan be capable of being made greater; it doubtless set him on work to\ngive a Vent to that Rage and Envy, by searching into the Nature and\nConstitution of this Creature, call'd _Man_; and to find out whether he\nwas invulnerable, and could by no means be hurt by the Power of Hell, or\ndeluded by his Subtilty; or whether he might be beguil'd and deluded,\nand so, instead of being preserv'd in Holiness and Purity, wherein he\nwas certainly created, be brought to fall and rebell as he (_Satan_) had\ndone before him; by which, instead of being transplanted into a glorious\nState, after this Life in Heaven, as his Maker had design'd him to be,\nto fill up the Angelic Choir, and supply the Place from whence he\n(_Satan_) had fallen, he might be made to fall also like him, and in a\nWord, be made a _Devil_ like himself.\nThis convinces us that the _Devil_ has not lost his natural Powers by\nhis Fall; and our learned Commentator Mr. _Pool_ is of the same Opinion;\ntho' he grants that the _Devil_ has lost his moral Power, or his Power\nof doing Good, which he can never recover. _Vide_ Mr. _Pool_ upon _Acts_\nxix. 17. where we may particularly observe, when the Man possess'd with\nan evil Spirit flew upon the seven Sons of _Sc\u00e6va_ the _Jew_, who would\nhave Exorcis'd them in the Name of _Jesus_, without the Authority of\n_Jesus_, or without Faith in him; He flew on them and master'd them, so\nthat they fled out of the House from the Devil conquered, naked and\nwounded: But of this Power of the Devil I shall speak by it self.\nIn a Word, and to sum up all the _Devil_'s Story from his first\nExpulsion, it stands thus: For so many Years as were between his Fall\nand the Creation of Man, tho' we have no _Memoirs_ of his particular\nAffairs, we have Reason to believe he was without any Manner of\nEmployment; but a certain tormenting Endeavour to be always expressing\nhis Rage and Enmity against Heaven; I call it tormenting, Because ever\ndisappointed; every thought about it proving empty; every attempt\ntowards it abortive; Leaving him only Light enough to see still more and\nmore Reason to despair of Success; and that this made his Condition\nstill more and more a Hell than it was before.\nAfter a Space of Duration in this Misery, which we have no light given\nus to measure or judge of, He at length discovered the new Creation of\nMan, as above, upon which he soon found Matter to set himself to work\nupon, and has been busily employ'd ever since.\nAnd now indeed there may be room to suggest a Local _Hell_, and the\nConfinement of Souls (made corrupt and degenerate by him) to it, as a\nPlace; tho' he himself, as is still apparent by his Actings, is not yet\nconfin'd to it; of this Hell, its Locality, Extent, Dimensions,\nContinuance and Nature, as it does not belong to Satan's History, I have\na good excuse for saying nothing, and so put off my meddling with that,\nwhich if I would meddle with, I could say nothing of to the Purpose.\nCHAP. VIII.\n_Of the Power of the Devil at the Time of the Creation of this World;\n     whether it has not been farther straitn'd and limited since that\n     Time, and what Shifts and Stratagems he is obliged to make use of to\n     compass his Designs upon Mankind._\nCunning Men have fabled, and tho' it be without either Religion,\nAuthority or physical Foundation, it may be we may like it ne'er the\nworse for that; that when God made the Stars and all the Heavenly\nLuminaries, the _Devil_, to mimick his Maker and insult his new\nCreation, made Comets, in Imitation of the fix'd Stars; but that the\nComposition of them being combustible, when they came to wander in the\nAbyss, rolling by an irregular ill-grounded Motion, they took Fire, in\ntheir Approach to some of those great Bodies of Flame, _the fix'd\nStars_; and being thus kindled (like a Fire-work unskilfully let off)\nthey then took wild and excentrick, as also different Motions of their\nown, out of Satan's Direction, and beyond his Power to regulate ever\nafter.\nLet this Thought stand by it self, it matters not to our purpose whether\nwe believe any thing of it, or no; 'tis enough to our Case, that if\nSatan had any such Power then, he has no such Power now, and that leads\nme to enquire into his more recent Limitations.\nI am to suppose, he and all his Accomplices being confounded at the\nDiscovery of the new Creation, and racking their Wits to find out the\nmeaning of it, had at last (_no matter how_) discover'd the whole\nSystem, and concluded, _as I have said_, that the Creature, _call'd\nMan_, was to be their Successor in the Heavenly Mansions; upon which I\nsuggest that the first Motion of Hell was to destroy this new Work, and,\nif possible, to overwhelm it.\nBut when they came to make the Attempt, they found their Chains were not\nlong enough, and that they could not reach to the Extremes of the\nSystem: They had no Power either to break the Order, or stop the Motion,\ndislocate the Parts, or confound the Situation of Things; they\ntraversed, no doubt, the whole Work, visited every Star, landed upon\nevery Solid, and sail'd upon every Fluid in the whole Scheme, to see\nwhat Mischief they could do.\nUpon a long and full Survey, they came to this Point in their Enquiry,\nthat in short they could do nothing by Force; that they could not\ndisplace any Part, annihilate any Atom, or destroy any Life in the whole\nCreation; but that as Omnipotence had created it, so the same\nOmnipotence had arm'd it at all Points against the utmost Power of Hell,\nhad made the smallest Creature in it invulnerable, as to _Satan_; so\nthat without the Permission of the same Power which had made _Heaven_,\nand conquer'd the _Devil_, he could do nothing at all, as to destroying\nany thing that God had made, no, not the little diminutive thing call'd\nMan, who _Satan_ saw so much reason to hate, as being created to succeed\nhim in Happiness in _Heaven_.\nSatan found him placed out of his Power to hurt, or out of his Reach to\ntouch; and here, by the way, appears the second Conquest of _Heaven_\nover the _Devil_; that having plac'd his Rival, as it were, just before\nhis Face, and shew'd the hateful sight to him, he saw written upon his\nImage, _Touch him if you dare_.\nIt cannot be doubted, but, had it not been thus, Man is so far from\nbeing a Match for the _Devil_, that one of Satan's least Imps or\n_Angels_ could destroy all the Race of them in the World, ay World and\nall in a moment;\nAs he is Prince of the Power of the Air, taking the Air for _the\nElementary World_, how easily could he, at one Blast, sweep all the\nSurface of the Earth into the Sea, or drive weighty immense Surges of\nthe Ocean over the whole Plane of the Earth, and deluge the Globe at\nonce with a Storm? Or how easily could he, who, by the Situation of the\nEmpire, must be supposed able to manage the Clouds, draw them up, in\nsuch Position as should naturally produce Thunders and Lightnings, cause\nthose Lightnings to blast the Earth, dash in Pieces all the Buildings,\nburn all the populous Towns and Cities, and lay wast the World;\nAt the same time he might command suited Quantities of sublimated Air to\nburst out of the Bowels of the Earth, and overwhelm and swallow up, in\nthe opening Chasms, all the Inhabitants of the Globe?\nIn a Word, _Satan_ left to himself as a Devil, and to the Power, which\nby virtue of his Seraphic Original he must be vested with, was able to\nhave made Devilish Work in the World, if by a superior Power he was not\nrestrain'd.\nBut there is no doubt, _at least to me_, but that with his fall from\nHeaven, as he lost the Rectitude and Glory of his Angelic Nature, I mean\nhis Innocence, so he lost the Power too that he had before; and that\nwhen he first commenc'd Devil, he received the Chains of Restraint too,\nas the Badge of his Apostacy, _viz._ a general Prohibition, to do any\nthing to the Prejudice of this Creation, or to act any thing by Force or\nViolence without special Permission.\nThis Prohibition was not sent him by a Messenger, or by an Order in\nWriting, or proclaimed from Heaven by a Law; but _Satan_, by a strange,\ninvisible and unaccountable Impression felt the Restraint within him;\nand at the same time that his moral Capacity was not taken away, yet his\nPower of exerting that Capacity felt the Restraint, and left him unable\nto do, even what he was able to do at the same time.\nI make no question, but the Devil is sensible of this Restraint, that is\nto say, _not_ as it is a restraint only, or as an effect of his\nExpulsion from _Heaven_; But as it prevents his Capital Design against\nMan, who, for the Reason I have given already, he entertains a mortal\nHatred of, and would destroy with all his Heart, if he might; and\ntherefore, like a chain'd Mastiff, we find him oftentimes making a\nhorrid hellish Clamour and Noise, barking and howling, and frighting the\nPeople, letting them know, that if he was loose he would tear them in\npieces; but at the same time his very Fury shakes his Chain, which lets\nthem know, to their Satisfaction, he can only Bark, but cannot Bite.\nSome are of Opinion that the Devil is not restrain'd so much by the\nsuperior Power of his Sovereign and Maker; but that all his milder\nMeasures with Man are the effect of a political Scheme, and done upon\nmature Deliberation; that it was resolved to act thus, in the great\nCouncil or P----t of Devils, call'd upon this very Occasion, when they\nfirst were inform'd of the Creation of Man; and especially when they\nconsidered what kind of Creature he was, and what might probably be the\nReason of making him, (_viz._) to fill up the Vacancies in Heaven; I\nsay, that then the _Devils_ resolv'd, that it was not for their\nInterest to fall upon him with Fury and Rage, and so destroy the\nSpecies, for that this would be no Benefit at all to them, and would\nonly cause another original Man to be created; for that they knew GOD\ncould, by the same Omnipotence, form as many new Species of Creatures as\nhe pleased; and, if he thought fit, create them in Heaven too, out of\nthe Reach of _Devils_ or evil Spirits, and that therefore, to destroy\nMan would no way answer their End.\nOn the other hand, examining strictly the Mould of this new made\nCreature, and of what Materials he was form'd; how mixt up of a Nature\nconvertible and pervertible, capable indeed of infinite Excellence, and\nconsequently of eternal Felicity; but subject likewise to Corruption and\nDegeneracy, and consequently to eternal Misery; That instead of being\nfit to supply the Places of Satan and his rejected Tribe (the expell'd\nAngels) in Heaven, and filling up the Thrones or Stalls in the Celestial\nChoir, they might, if they could but be brought into Crime, become a\nRace of Rebels and Traytors like the rest; and so come at last to keep\nthem Company, as well in the Place of eternal Misery, as in the Merit of\nit, and in a Word, become Devils instead of Angels.\nUpon this Discovery, I say, they found it infinitely more for the\nInterest of Satan's infernal Kingdom, to go another way to work with\nMankind, and see if it were possible, by the strength of all their\ninfernal Wit and Counsels, to lay some Snare for him, and by some\nStratagem to bring him to eternal Ruin and Misery.\nThis being then approv'd as their only Method, (and the _Devil_ shew'd\nhe was no Fool in the Choice) he next resolv'd that there was no time to\nbe lost; that it was to be set about immediately, before the Race was\nMultiplied, and by that means the Work be not made greater only, but\nperhaps the more difficult too; accordingly the diligent Devil went\ninstantly about it, agreeably to all the Story of _Eve_ and the serpent,\nas before; the belief of which, whether historically or allegorically,\nis not at all obstructed by this Hypothesis.\nI do not affirm that this was the Case at first, because being not\npresent in that black _Divan_, at least not that I know of, _for who\nknows where he was or was not in his pre-existent State?_ I cannot be\npositive in the Resolve that past there; but except for some very little\nContradiction, which we find in the sacred Writings, I should, I\nconfess, incline to believe it Historically; and I shall speak of those\nthings which I call Contradictions to it more largely hereafter.\nIn the mean time, be it one way or other, _that is to say_, either that\nSatan had no Power to have proceeded with Man by Violence, and to have\ndestroy'd him as soon as he was made; or that he had the Power, but\nchose rather to proceed by other Methods to deceive and debauch him; _I\nsay_, be it which you please, I am still of the Opinion that it really\nwas not the _Devil_'s Business to destroy the Species; that it would\nhave been nothing to the purpose, and no Advantage at all to him, if he\nhad done it; for that, as above, God could immediately have created\nanother Species to the same end, whom he either could have made\ninvulnerable, and not subject to the Devil's Power, or remov'd him out\nof _Satan_'s Reach, plac'd him out of the _Devil_'s Ken, in Heaven or\nsome other Place, where the Devil could not come to hurt him; and that\ntherefore it is infinitely more his Advantage, and more suited to his\nreal Design of defeating the End of Man's Creation, to debauch him and\nmake a _Devil_ of him, that he may be rejected like himself, and\nincrease the infernal Kingdom and Company in the Lake of Misery _in\n\u00e6ternum_.\nIt may be true, for ought I know, that Satan has not the Power of\nDestruction put into his Hand, and that he cannot take away the Life of\na Man: and it seems probable to be so, from the Story of _Satan_ and\n_Job_, when _Satan_ appear'd among the Sons of GOD, as the Text says,\n_Job_ i. 6. Now when God gave such a Character of _Job_ to him, and\nask'd him _if he had consider'd his Servant Job_, ver. 8. why did not\nthe Devil go immediately and exert his Malice against the good Man at\nonce, to let his Maker see what would become of his Servant _Job_ in his\nDistress? On the contrary, we see he only answers by shewing the Reason\nof _Job_'s good Behaviour; that it was but common Gratitude for the\nBlessing and Protection he enjoy'd, ver. 10. and pleading that if his\nEstate was taken away, and he was expos'd as he (Satan) was, to be a\nbeggar and a Vagabond, going _to and fro in the Earth, and walking up\nand down therein_, he should be a very Devil too, like himself, and\ncurse God to his Face.\nUpon this, the Text says, that God answered ver. 11. _Behold all that\nhe hath is in thy Power_; now 'tis plain here, that God gave up _Job_'s\nWealth and Estate, nay his Family, and the Lives of his Children and\nServants into the Devil's Power; and accordingly, like a true merciless\nDevil, _as he is_, he destroy'd them all; he mov'd the _Sabeans_ to fall\nupon the Oxen and the Asses, and carry them off; he mov'd the\n_Chaldeans_ to fall upon the Camels and the Servants, to carry off the\nfirst, and murther the last; he made Lightning flash upon the poor\nSheep, and kill them all; and he blow'd his House down upon his poor\nChildren, and buried them all in the Ruins.\nNow here is (1.) a Specimen of Satan's good Will to Mankind, and what\nHavock the _Devil_ would make in the World, if he might; and here is a\nTestimony too, that he could not do this without leave; so that I cannot\nbut be of the Opinion he has some Limitations, some Bounds set to his\nnatural Fury; a certain Number of Links in his Chain, which he cannot\nexceed, or, in a Word, that he cannot go a Foot beyond his _Tether_.\nThe same kind of Evidence we have in the Gospel, _Matth._ viii. 31.\nwhere Satan could not so much as possess the filthiest and meanest of\nall Creatures, _the Swine_, till he had ask'd leave; and that still, to\nshew his good Will, as soon as he had gotten leave, he hurried them all\ninto the Sea and choak'd them; these, I say, are some of the Reasons why\nI am not willing to say, the _Devil_ is not restrain'd in Power; but on\nthe other side, we are told of so many mischievous things the Devil has\ndone in the World, by virtue of his Dominion over the Elements, and by\nother Testimonies of his Power, that I don't know what to think of it;\ntho', upon the whole, the first is the safest Opinion; for if we should\nbelieve the last, we might, for ought I know, be brought, like the\n_American Indians_, to worship him _at last_, that he may do us no Harm.\nAnd now I have nam'd those People in _America_, I confess it would go a\ngreat way in favour of Satan's Generosity, as well as in Testimony of\nhis Power, if we might believe all the Accounts, which indeed Authors\nare pretty well agreed in the Truth of, namely, of the Mischiefs the\n_Devil_ does in those Countries, where his Dominion seems to be\nestablish'd; how he uses them when they deny him the Homage he claims of\nthem as his Due; what Havock and Combustion he makes among them; and\nhow Beneficent he is (or at least negative in his Mischiefs) when they\nAppease him by their hellish Sacrifices.\nLikewise we see a Test of his wicked Subtilty in his Management of those\ndark Nations, when he was more immediately worship'd by them; namely,\nthe making them believe that all their good Weather, Rains, Dews, and\nkind Influences upon the Earth, to make it fruitful, was from Him;\nwhereas they really were the common Blessings of a higher Hand, and came\nnot from him, the _Devil_, but from him that made the _Devil_, and made\nhim a Devil or fallen Angel by his Curse.\nBut to go back to the Method the Devil took with the first of Mankind;\n'tis plain the Policy of Hell was right, tho' the Execution of the\nResolves they took did not fully answer their End neither; For _Satan_\nfastening upon poor, proud, ridiculous Mother _Eve_, as I have said\nbefore, made presently a true Judgment of her Capacities, and of her\nTemper; took her by the right Handle, and soothing her Vanity (which is\nto this Day the softest Place in the Head of all the Sex) wheedl'd her\nout of her Senses, by praising her Beauty, and promising to make her a\nGoddess.\nThe foolish Woman yielded presently, and that we are told is the Reason\nwhy the same Method so strangely takes with all her Posterity (_viz._)\nthat you are sure to prevail with them, if you can but once persuade\nthem that you believe they are Witty and Handsome; for the Devil, you\nmay observe, never quits any Hold he gets, and having once found a way\ninto the Heart, always takes care to keep the Door open, that any of his\nAgents may enter after him without any more Difficulty: Hence the same\nArgument, especially the last, has so bewitching an Influence on the\nSex, that they rarely deny you any thing, after they are but weak\nenough and vain enough to accept of the Praises you offer them on that\nHead; on the other hand you are sure they never forgive you the\nunpardonable Crime of saying they are Ugly or Disagreeable: It is\nsuggested that the first Method the Devil took to insinuate all those\nfine things into _Eve_'s giddy Head, was by creeping close to her _one\nNight_, when she was asleep, and laying his Mouth to her _Ear_,\nwhispering all the fine things to her, which he knew would set her Fancy\na Tip-toe, and so made her receive them involuntarily into her Mind;\nknowing well enough that when she had form'd such Ideas in her Soul,\nhowever they came there, she would never be quiet till she had work'd\nthem up to some extraordinary thing or other.\nIt was evident what the _Devil_ aim'd at, _namely_, that she should\nbreak in upon the Command of GOD, and so having corrupted her self,\nbring the Curse upon her self and all her Race, as GOD had threatn'd;\nbut why the Pride of _Eve_ should be so easily tickled by the Motion of\nher exquisite Beauty, when there then was no prospect of the use or want\nof those Charms? that indeed makes a kind of Difficulty here, which the\nlearn'd have not determined. For,\n     1. If she had been as Ugly as the _Devil_, she had no body to rival\n     her, so that she need not fear _Adam_ should leave her and get\n     another Mistress.\n     2. If she had been Bright and Beautiful as an Angel, she had no\n     other Admirer but poor _Adam_, and he could have no room to be\n     jealous of her, or afraid she should cuckold him; so that in short,\n     _Eve_ had no such Occasion for her Beauty, nor could she make any\n     use of it either to a bad purpose or to a good, and therefore I\n     believe the _Devil_, who is too cunning to do any thing that\n     signifies Nothing, rather tempted her by the Hope of encreasing her\n     Wit, than her Beauty.\nBut to come back to the Method of Satan's tempting her, _viz._ by\nwhispering to her in her sleep; 'twas a cunning Trick, that's the Truth\nof it, and by that means he certainly set her Head a madding after\n_Deism_, and to be made a Goddess, and then back'd it by the subtle talk\nhe had with her afterward.\nI am the more particular upon this Part, because, however the Devil may\nhave been the first that ever practised it, yet I can assure him the\nExperiment has been tried upon many a Woman since, to the wheedling her\nout of her Modesty, as well as her Simplicity; and the Cunning Men tell\nus still, that if you can come at a Woman when she is in a deep sleep,\nand Whisper to her close to her Ear, she will certainly Dream of the\nThing you say to her, and so will a Man too.\nWell, be this so to her Race or not, it was it seems so to her; for she\nwak'd with her Head fill'd with pleasing Ideas, and as some will have\nit, unlawful Desires; such, as to be sure she never had entertain'd\nbefore; These are supposed to be fatally infused in her Dream, and\nsuggested to her waking Soul, when the Organ Ear which convey'd them was\ndoz'd and insensible; strange Fate of sleeping in _Paradise_! that\nwhereas we have Notice but of two Sleeps there, that in one a _Woman_\nshould go out of him, and in the other, the _Devil_ should come into\nher.\nCertainly, when Satan first made the Attempt upon _Eve_, he did not\nthink he should have so easily conquered her, or have brought his\nBusiness about so soon; the _Devil_ himself could not have imagined she\nshould have been so soon brought to forget the Command given, or at\nleast who gave it, and have ventur'd to transgress against him, and made\nher forget that GOD had told her, it should be Death to her to touch it;\nand above all, that she should aspire to be as wise as him, who was so\nignorant before, as to believe it was for fear of her being like\nhimself, that he had forbid it her.\nWell might she be said to be the weaker Vessel, tho' _Adam_ himself had\nlittle enough to say for his being the stronger of the two, when he was\nover-persuaded (if it were done by Persuasion) by his Wife to do the\nsame thing.\nAnd mark how wise they were after they had Eaten, and what Fools they\nboth acted like, even to one another; nay, even all the Knowledge they\nattain'd to by it was, for ought I see, only to know that they were\nFools, and to be sensible both of _Sin_ and _Shame_; and see how simply\nthey acted, I say, upon their having committed the Crime, and being\ndetected in it.\n    'View them to Day conversing with their God,\n  'His Image both enjoy'd and understood,\n  '_To Morrow_ skulking with a sordid Flight,               }\n  'Among the Bushes from the _Infinite_,                    }\n  'As if that Power _was blind_, which gave them _Sight_;   }\n  'With senseless Labour Tagging Fig-Leaf Vests,\n  'To hide their Bodies from the sight of Beasts.\n    'Hark! how the Fool pleads faint, for forfeit Life,\n  'First he reproaches Heaven, and then his Wife;\n  '_The Woman which thou gav'st_ as if the Gift\n  'Could rob him of the little Reason left,\n  'A weak Pretence to shift his early Crime,\n  'As if accusing her would excuse him;\n  'But thus encroaching Crime dethrones the Sense,\n  'And intercepts the Heavenly Influence,\n  'Debauches Reason, makes the Man a Fool,\n  'And turns his active Light to Ridicule.\nIt must be confess'd that it was unaccountable Degeneracy, even of their\ncommon Reasoning, which _Adam_ and _Eve_ both fell into upon the first\ncommitting the Offence of taking the forbidden Fruit: If that was their\nbeing made as Gods, it made but a poor Appearance in its first coming,\nto hide their Nakedness when there was no body to see them, and cover\nthemselves among the Bushes from their Maker; but thus it was, and this\nthe Devil had brought them to, and well might he, and all the Clan of\nHell, as Mr. _Milton_ brings them in, laugh and triumph over the Man\nafter the Blow was given, as having so egregiously abused and deluded\nthem both.\nBut here, to be sure, began the _Devil_'s new Kingdom; as he had now\nseduc'd the two first Creatures, he was pretty sure of Success upon all\nthe Race, and therefore prepar'd to attack them also, as soon as they\ncame on; nor was their encreasing Multitude any Discouragement to his\nAttempt, but just the contrary; for he had Agents enough to employ, if\nevery Man and Woman that should be born was to want a _Devil_ to wait\nupon them, separately and singly to seduce them; whereas some whole\nNations have been such willing subjects to him, that one of his Seraphic\nImps may, _for ought we know_, have been enough to guide a whole\nCountry; the People being entirely subjected to his Government for many\nAges; as in _America, for example_, where some will have it, that he\nconvey'd the first Inhabitants, at least if he did not, we don't well\nknow who did, or how they got thither.\nAnd how came all the Communication to be so entirely cut off between the\nNations of _Europe_ and _Africa_, from whence _America_ must certainly\nhave been peopl'd, or else the _Devil_ must have done it indeed? I say,\nhow came the Communication to be so entirely cut off between them, that\nexcept the time, _whenever it was_, that People did at first reach from\none to the other, none ever came back to give their Friends any account\nof their Success, or invite them to follow? Nor did they hear of one\nanother afterwards, as we have Reason to think: Did _Satan_ politically\nkeep them thus asunder, lest News from Heaven should reach them, and so\nthey should be recover'd out of his Government? We cannot tell how to\ngive any other rational Account of it, that a Nation, nay a Quarter of\nthe World, or as some will have it be, half the Globe, should be peopled\nfrom _Europe_ or _Africa_, or both, and no body ever go after them, or\ncome back from them in above three thousand years after.\nNay, that those Countries should be peopled when there was no Navigation\nin use in these Parts of the World, no Ships made that could carry\nProvisions enough to support the People that fail'd in them, but that\nthey must have been starved to death before they could reach the Shore\nof _America_; the Ferry from _Europe_ or _Africa_, in any Part (which we\nhave known Navigation to be practised in) being at least 1000 Miles, and\nin most Places much more.\nBut as to the _Americans_, let the _Devil_ and they alone to account for\ntheir coming Thither, this we are certain of, that we knew nothing of\nthem for many hundred Years; and when we did, when the Discovery was\nmade, they that went from Hence found _Satan_ in a full and quiet\nPossession of them, ruling them with an arbitrary Government,\nparticular to himself; He had led them into a blind Subjection to\nhimself, nay, I might call it Devotion, for it was all of Religion that\nwas to be found among them) worshipping horrible Idols in his Name, to\nwhom he directed human Sacrifices continually to be made, till he\ndeluged the Country with Blood, and ripen'd them up for the Destruction\nthat follow'd, from the Invasion of the _Spaniards_, who he knew would\nhurry them all out of the World as fast as he (_the Devil_) himself\ncould desire of them.\nBut to go back a little to the Original of Things, It is evident that\n_Satan_ has made a much better Market of Mankind, by thus subtilly\nattacking them, and bringing them to break with their Maker as he had\ndone before them, than he could have done by fulminating upon them at\nfirst, and sending them all out of the World at once; for now he has\npeopled his own Dominions with them, and tho' a Remnant are snatch'd as\nit were out of his Clutches, by the Agency of Invincible Grace, of which\nI am not to discourse in this Place; yet this may be said of the\n_Devil_, without Offence, that he has in some Sense carried his Point,\nand as it were forc'd his Maker to be satisfied with a Part of Mankind,\nand the least Part too, instead of the great Glory he would have brought\nto himself by keeping them all in his Service.\nMr. _Milton_, as I have noted above, brings in the _Devil_ and all Hell\nwith him, making a _Feu de Joye_ for the Victory _Satan_ obtain'd over\none silly Woman; indeed it was a Piece of Success greater in its\nConsequence than in the immediate Appearance; nor was the Conquest so\ncompleat as Satan himself imagin'd to make, since the Promise of a\nRedemption out of his Hands, which was immediately made to the Man, in\nbehalf of himself and his believing Posterity, was a great\nDisappointment to Satan, and as it were snatch'd the best Part of his\nVictory out of his Hands.\nIt is certain the _Devils_ knew what the meaning of that Promise was,\nand who was to be the _Seed of the Woman_, namely, the incarnate _Son of\nGod_, and that it was a second Blow to the whole infernal Body; but as\nif they had resolved to let that alone, _Satan_ went on with his\nBusiness; and as he had introduc'd Crime into the common Parent of\nMankind, and thereby secured the Contamination of Blood, and the Descent\nor Propagation of the corrupt Seed, he had nothing to do but to assist\nNature in time to come, to carry on its own Rebellion, and act it self\nin the Breasts of _Eve_'s tainted Posterity; and that indeed has been\nthe Devil's Business ever since his first Victory upon the Kind, to this\nDay.\nHis Success in this Part has been such, that we see upon innumerable\nOccasions a general Defection has follow'd; a kind of a Taint upon\nNature, _call it what you will_, a Blast upon the Race of Mankind; and\nwere it not for one thing, he had ruined the whole Family; _I say_, were\nit not for one thing, namely, a selected Company or Number, which his\nMaker has resolv'd he shall not be able to corrupt, or if he does, the\nsending the promis'd Seed shall recover back again from him, by the\nPower of irresistible Grace; which Number thus selected or elected, call\nit which we will, are still to supply the Vacancies in Heaven, which\n_Satan_'s Defection left open; and what was before fill'd up with\ncreated Seraphs, is now to be restor'd by recover'd Saints, by whom\ninfinite Glory is to accrue to the Kingdom of the Redeemer.\nThis glorious Establishment has robb'd Satan of all the Joy of his\nVictory, and left him just where he was, defeated and disappointed; nor\ndoes the Possession of all the Myriads of the Sons of Perdition, who yet\nsome are of the Opinion will be snatch'd from him too at last; I say,\nthe Possession of all these makes no amends to him, for he is such a\n_Devil_ in his Nature, that the Envy at those he cannot seduce, eats out\nall the Satisfaction of the Mischief he has done in seducing all the\nrest; but _I must not preach_, so I return to things as much needful to\nknow, tho' less solemn.\nCHAP. IX.\n_Of the Progress of Satan in carrying on his Conquest over Mankind, from\n     the Fall of_ Eve _to the Deluge._\nI doubt if the Devil was ask'd the Question plainly, he would confess,\nthat after he had conquer'd _Eve_ by his own wicked Contrivance, and\nthen by her Assistance had brought _Adam_ too (like a Fool as he was)\ninto the same Gulph of Misery, he thought he had done his Work,\ncompassed the whole Race, that they were now his own, and that he had\nput an End to the grand Design of their Creation; namely, of Peopling\nHeaven with a new Angelic Race of Souls, who when glorify'd, should make\nup the Defection of the Host of Hell, that had been expung'd by their\nCrime; in a Word, that he had gotten a better Conquest than if he had\ndestroy'd them all.\nBut in the midst of his Conquest, he found a Check put to the Advantages\nhe expected to reap from his Victory, by the immediate Promise of Grace\nto a Part of the Posterity of _Adam_, who, notwithstanding the Fall,\nwere to be purchased by the _Messiah_, and snatch'd out of his\n(_Satan_'s) Hands, and over whom he could make no final Conquest; so\nthat his Power met with a new Limitation, and that such, as indeed fully\ndisappointed him in the main thing he aim'd at, (_viz._) preventing the\nBeatitudes of Mankind, which were thus secur'd; (And what if the Numbers\nof Mankind were upon this account encreased in such a manner, that the\nselected Number should, by Length of Time, amount to just as many as the\nwhole Race, had they not fallen, would have amounted to in all?) And\nthus, indeed, the World may be said to be upheld and continued for the\nSake of those few, since till their Number can be compleated, the\nCreation cannot fall, any more than, that without them, or but for them\nit would not have stood.\nBut leaving this Speculation, and not having enquir'd of Satan what he\nhas to say on that Subject, let us go back to the Antediluvian World:\nThe _Devil_ to be sure, gain'd his Point upon _Eve_, and in her upon all\nher Race: He drew her into Sin; got her turn'd out of _Paradise_, and\nthe Man with her: The next Thing was to go to work with her Posterity,\nand particularly with her two Sons _Cain_ and _Abel_.\n_Adam_ having, notwithstanding his Fall, repented very sincerely of his\nSin; receiv'd the Promise of Redemption and Pardon, with an humble but\nbelieving Heart; Charity bids us suppose that he led a very religious\nand sober Life ever after; and especially in the first Part of his Time,\nThat he brought up his Children very soberly, and gave them all the\nnecessary Advantages of a Religious Education, and a good Introduction\ninto the World, that he was capable of; and that _Eve_ likewise assisted\nto both in her Place and Degree.\nTheir two eldest Sons _Cain_ and _Abel_; The one Heir apparent to the\nPatriarchal Empire, and the other Heir presumptive, I suppose also,\nlived very sober and religious Lives; and as the Principles of natural\nReligion dictated a Homage and Subjection due to the Almighty Maker, as\nan Acknowledgment of his Mercies, and a Recognition of their Obedience;\nso the receiv'd Usage of Religion dictating at that Time that this\nHomage was to be paid by a Sacrifice, they either of them brought a\nFree-will-offering to be dedicated to God respectively for themselves\nand Families.\nHow it was, and for what Reason that God had respect to the Offering of\n_Abel_, which the Learn'd say, was _a Lamb_ of the Firstlings of the\nFlock, and did not give any Testimony of the like Respect to _Cain_ and\nhis Offering, which was of the first Fruits of the Earth, the Offerings\nbeing equally suited to the respective Employment of the Men, that is\nnot my present Business; but this we find made Heart-burnings, and\nraised Envy and Jealousy in the Mind of _Cain_; and at that Door the\n_Devil_ immediately entred; for he, who from the Beginning, was very\ndiligent in his way, never slip'd any Opportunity, or miss'd any\nAdvantages that the Circumstances of Mankind offered him to do Mischief.\nWhat Shape or Appearance the Devil took up to enter into a Conversation\nwith _Cain_ upon the Subject, that Authors do not take upon them to\ndetermine; but 'tis generally supposed he personated some of _Cain_'s\nSons or Grandsons to begin the Discourse, who attack'd their Father, or\nperhaps Grandfather, upon this Occasion, in the following manner, or to\nthat Purpose.\n_D._ Sir, I perceive _your Majesty_ (for the first Race were certainly\nall Monarchs as great as Kings, to their immediate Posterity) to be\ngreatly disturb'd of late, your Countenance is chang'd, your noble\nChearfulness (the Glories of your Face) are strangely sunk and gone, and\nyou are not the Man you used to be; please your Majesty to communicate\nyour Griefs to us your Children, you may be sure, that if it be\npossible, we would procure you Relief, and restore your Delights, the\nLoss of which, if thus you go on to subject yourself to too much\nMelancholy, will be very hurtful to you, and in the End destroy you.\n_Cain._ It is very kind, my dear Children, to shew your Respect thus to\nyour true Progenitor, and to offer your Assistance: I confess, as you\nsay, my Mind is oppress'd and displeased; but tho' 'tis very heavy, yet\nI know not which way to look for Relief, for the Distemper is above our\nReach, no Cure can be found for it on Earth.\n_D._ Do not say so, Sir; there can be no Disease sure on Earth but may\nbe cur'd on Earth; if it be a mental Evil, we have heard that your great\nAncestor, the first Father of us all, who lives still on the great\nwestern Plains towards the Sea, is the Oracle to which all his Children\nfly for Direction in such Cases as are out of the Reach of the ordinary\nunderstanding of Mankind; please you to give leave, we will take a\nJourney to him, and representing your Case to him, we will hear his\nAdvice, and bring it to you with all Speed, for the Ease of your Mind.\n_Cain._ I know not whether he can reach my Case or no.\n_D._ Doubtless he may, and if not, the Labour of our Journey is nothing\nwhen plac'd in Competition with the Ease of your Mind; 'tis but a few\nDays travel lost, and you will not be the worse if we fail of the\ndesired Success.\n_Cain._ The offer is filial, and I accept your affectionate Concern for\nme, with a just Sense of an oblig'd Parent; go then, and my Blessing be\nupon you; but alas! why do I bless? can he bless whom God has not\nbless'd!\n_D._ O! Sir, do not say so, has not God bless'd you? are you not the\nsecond Sovereign of the Earth? and does he not converse with you Face to\nFace? are not you the Oracle to all your growing Posterity, and next\nafter his Sovereign Imperial Majesty Lord _Adam_, Patriarch of the\nWorld?\n_Cain._ But has not God rejected me, and refused to converse any more\nwith me, while he daily Favours and Countenances my younger Brother\n_Abel_, as if he resolv'd to set him up to rule over me?\n_D._ No, Sir, that cannot be, you cannot be disturb'd at such a thing;\nis not the Right of Sovereignty yours by Primogeniture? can God himself\ntake that away, when 'tis once given? are not you Lord _Adam_'s eldest\nSon? are you not the firstborn Glory of the Creation? and does not the\nGovernment descend to you by the divine Right of Birth and Blood?\n_Cain._ But what does all that signify to me, while God appears to\nfavour and caress my younger Brother, and to shine upon him, while a\nblack Dejection and token of Displeasure surrounds me every Day, and he\ndoes not appear to me as he used to do?\n_D._ And what need your Majesty be concern'd at that, if it be so? if he\ndoes not appear pleased, you have the whole World to enjoy your self in,\nand all your numerous and rising Posterity Adore and Honour you; what\nneed those remote Things be any disturbance to you?\n_Cain._ How! my Children, not the Favour of God be valued! yes, yes, in\nhis favour is Life; what can all the World avail without the Smiles and\nCountenance of him that made it?\n_D._ Doubtless, Sir, he that made the World and plac'd you at the Head\nof it all, to govern and direct it, has made it agreeable, and it is\nable to give you a full Satisfaction and Enjoyment, if you please to\nconsider it well, tho' you were never to converse with him all the while\nyou live in't.\n_Cain._ You are _quite wrong_ there, my Children, _quite wrong_.\n_D._ But do you not, great Sir, see all your Children as well as us\nrejoicing in the Plenty of all Things, and are they not compleatly\nhappy, and yet they know little of this great GOD? He seldom converses\namong us, we hear of him indeed by your sage Advices, and we bring our\nOfferings to you for him, as you direct, and when that's done, we enjoy\nwhatever our Hearts desire; and so doubtless may you in an abundant\nmanner, if you please.\n_Cain._ But your Felicity is wrong plac'd then, or you suppose that God\nis pleased and satisfied in that your Offerings are brought to me; but\nwhat would you say, if you knew that God is displeased? that he does not\naccept your Offerings? that when I sacrific'd to him in behalf of you\nall, he rejected my Offerings, tho' I brought a princely Gift, being of\nthe finest of the Wheat, the choicest and earliest Fruits, and the\nsweetest of the Oil, an Offering suited to the Giver of them all?\n_D._ But if you offered them, Sir, how are you sure they were not\naccepted?\n_Cain._ Yes, yes, I am sure; did not my Brother _Abel_ offer at the same\nTime a Lamb of his Flock, for he, you know, delights in Cattle, and\ncovers the Mountains with his Herds? over him, all the while he was\nsacrificing, a bright Emanation shone chearing and enlivening; a Pledge\nof Favour, and light ambient Flames play'd hovering in the lower Air, as\nif attending his Sacrifice; and when ready prepar'd, immediately\ndescended and burnt up the Flesh, a Sweet odoriferous Savour ascending\nto him, who thus testified his Acceptance; whereas, over my Head a black\nCloud, misty, and distilling Vapour, hung dripping upon the humble Altar\nI had raised, and wetting the finest and choicest Things I had\nprepar'd, spoil'd and defac'd them; the Wood unapt to burn by the\nMoisture which fell, scarce receiv'd the Fire I brought to kindle it,\nand even then, rather smother'd and choaked, than kindled into a Flame;\nin a Word, it went quite out, without consuming what was brought to be\noffer'd up.\n_D._ Let not our truly reverenc'd Lord and Father be disquieted at all\nthis; if he accepts not what you bring, you are discharg'd of the Debt,\nand need bring no more; nor have the Trouble of such labour'd\nCollections of Rarities any more; when he thinks fit to require it\nagain, you will have Notice, no Question, and then it being call'd for,\nwill be accepted or else why should it be requir'd?\n_Cain._ That may indeed be the Case, nor do I think of attempting any\nmore to bring an Offering, for I rather take it, that I am forbidden for\nthe present; but then, what is it that my younger Brother Triumphs in?\nand how am I insulted, in that he and his House are all Joy and Triumph,\nas if they had some great Advantage over me, in that their Offering was\naccepted when mine was not?\n_D._ Does he Triumph over your Majesty, our Lord and Sovereign? give us\nbut your Order, and we will go and pull him and all his Generation in\npieces; for to triumph over you who are his elder Brother, is a horrid\nRebellion and Treason, and he ought to be expell'd the Society of\nMankind.\n_Cain._ I think so too, indeed; however, my dear Children and faithful\nSubjects, tho' I accept your Offer of Duty and Service, yet I will\nconsider very well, before I take up Arms against my Brother; besides,\nour Sovereign Father and patriarchal Lord, _Adam_, being yet alive, it\nis not in my Right to act offensively without his Command.\n_D._ We are ready therefore to carry your Petition to him, and doubt not\nto obtain his Licence and Commission too, to empower you to do your self\nJustice upon your younger Brother; who being your Vassal, or at least\ninferior, as he is junior in Birth, insults you upon the fancied Opinion\nof having a larger Share in the Divine Favour, and receiving a Blessing\non his Sacrifices, on Pretence of the same Favour being denied you.\n_Cain._ I am content, go then, and give a just Account of the State of\nour Affairs.\n_D._ We shall soon return with the agreeable answer; let not our Lord\nand Father continue sad and dejected, but depend upon a speedy Relief,\nby the Assistance of thy numerous Issue, all devoted to thy Interest and\nFelicity.\n_Cain._ My Blessing be with you in your Way, and give you a favourable\nReception at the venerable Tent of our universal Lord and Father.\nNote, Here the cursed Race being fully given up to the Direction of the\nEvil-Spirit, which so early possess'd them, and swelling with Rage at\nthe innocent _Abel_ and his whole Family, they resolved upon forming a\nmost wicked and detestable lie, to bring about the Advice which they had\nalready given their Father _Cain_ a touch of; and to pretend that _Adam_\nbeing justly provok'd at the undutiful Behaviour of _Abel_, had given\n_Cain_ a Commission to chastise him, and by Force to cut him off and\nall his Family, as guilty of Rebellion and Pride.\nFill'd with this mischievous and bloody Resolution, they came back to\ntheir Father _Cain_, after staying a few Days, such as were Sufficient\nto make _Cain_ believe they had been at the spacious Plains, where\n_Adam_ dwelt; the same which are now call'd the blessed Valleys, or the\nPlains of _Mecca_ in _Arabia F\u00e6lix_, near the Banks of the _Red-Sea_.\nNote here also, that _Cain_ having received a wicked Hint from these\nMen, his Children and Subjects, as before, intimating that _Abel_ had\nbroken the Laws of Primogeniture in his Behaviour towards him, (_Cain_)\nand that he might be justly punish'd for it; Satan, that cunning Manager\nof all our wayward Passions, fan'd the Fire of Envy and Jealousy with\nhis utmost Skill all the while his other Agents were absent; and by the\nTime they came back had blown it up into such a Heat of Fury and Rage,\nthat it wanted nothing but Air to make it burn out, as it soon\nafterwards did in a furious Flame of Wrath and Revenge, even to Blood\nand Destruction.\nJust in the very critical Moment, while Things stood thus with _Cain_,\nSatan brings in his wicked Instruments, as if just arriv'd with the\nReturn of his Message from _Adam_, at whose Court they had been for\nOrders; and thus they, that is the _Devil_ assuming to speak by them,\napproach their Father with an Air of solemn but chearful Satisfaction at\nthe Success of their Embassy.\n_D._ Hail Sovereign, Reverend, Patriarchal Lord! we come with Joy to\nrender thee an Account of the Success of our Message.\n_Cain._ Have you then seen the venerable Tents where dwell the\nHeaven-born, the Angelic Pair, to whom all human Reverence highly due,\nis and ought always to be humbly paid?\n_D._ We have.\n_Cain._ Did you, together with my grand Request, a just, a humble Homage\nfor me pay, to the great Sire and Mother of Mankind?\n_D._ We did.\n_Cain._ Did you in humble Language represent the Griefs and Anguish\nwhich oppress my Soul?\n_D._ We did, and back their Blessing to thee bring.\n_Cain._ I hope with humblest Signs of filial Duty you took it for me on\nyour bending Knees?\n_D._ We did, and had our Share; the Patriarch lifting his Hands to\nHeaven express'd his Joy to see his spreading Race, and bless'd us all.\n_Cain._ Did you my solemn Message too deliver, my Injuries impartially\nlay down, and due Assistance and Direction crave?\n_D._ We did.\n_Cain._ What spoke the Oracle? he's God to me; what just Command d'ye\nbring, what's to be done? am I to bear the insulting Junior's Rage? and\nmeekly suffer what unjustly he, affronting Primogeniture and Laws of God\nand Man, imposes by his Pride unsufferable! Am I to be crush'd, and be\nno more the firstborn Son on Earth, but bow and kneel to him?\n_D._ Forbid it Heaven! as _Adam_ too forbids, who with a justice\nGod-like and peculiar to injur'd Parents, _Abel_'s Pride resents, and\ngives his high Command to thee to punish.\n_Cain._ To punish? say you, did he use the Word, the very Word? am I\ncommission'd then to punish _Abel_?\n_D._ Not _Abel_ only, but his rebel Race, as they alike in Crime alike\nare join'd in Punishment.\n_Cain._ The Race indeed have shar'd the Merit with him; how did they all\ninsult, and with a Shout of Triumph mock my Sorrow, when they saw me\nfrom my Sacrifice dejected come, as if my Disappointment was their Joy?\n_D._ This too the venerable Prince resents, and to preserve the Race in\nBounds of Laws subordinate and limited to Duty, Commands that this first\nBreach be not pass'd by, lest the Precedent upon Record stand to future\nTimes to encourage like Rebellion.\n_Cain._ And is it then my Sovereign Parent's Will?\n_D._ It is his Will, that thou his eldest Son, his Image, his belov'd,\nshould be maintain'd in all the Rights of Sovereignty deriv'd to thee\nfrom him; and not be left expos'd to injury and Power usurped, but\nshould do thy self Justice on the rebel Race.\n_Cain._ And so I will; _Abel_ shall quickly know what 'tis to trample on\nhis elder Brother; shall know that he's thus sentenc'd by his Father,\nand I'm commission'd but to execute his high Command, his Sentence,\nwhich is God's, and that he falls by the Hand of Heavenly Justice.\nSo now Satan had done his Work, he had deluded the Mother to a Breach\nagainst the first and only Command, he had drawn _Adam_ to the same\nSnare, and now he brings in _Cain_ prompted by his own Rage, and deluded\nby his, (Satan's,) Craft, to commit Murder, nay a Fratricide, an\naggravated Murther.\nUpon this he sends out _Cain_, while the bloody Rage was in its Ferment,\nand wickedly at the same Time bringing _Abel_, innocent and fearing no\nill, just in his Way, he suggests to his Thoughts such Words as these.\nLook you _Cain_, see how Divine Justice concurs with your Father's\nrighteous Sentence, see there's thy Brother _Abel_ directed by Heaven to\nfall into thy Hands unarm'd, unguarded, that thou may'st do thy self\nJustice upon him without Fear; see thou may'st kill him, and if thou\nhast a Mind to conceal it, no Eyes can see, or will the World ever know\nit, so that no Resentment or Revenge upon thee, or thy Posterity, can be\napprehended, but it may be said some wild Beast had rent him; nor will\nany one suggest that thou, his Brother, and Superior, could possibly be\nthe Person.\n_Cain_ prepar'd for the Fact, by his former avow'd Rage and Resolution\nof Revenge, was so much the less prepar'd to avoid the Snare thus\nartfully contriv'd by the Master of all Subtilty, the _Devil_; so he\nimmediately runs upon his Brother _Abel_, and after a little unarm'd\nResistance, the innocent poor Man expecting no such Mischief, was\nconquer'd and murther'd; after which, as is to be supposed, the\nexasperated Crew of _Cain_'s outrageous Race, over-run all his Family\nand Houshold, killing Man, Woman and Child.\nIt is objected here that we have no Authority in Scripture to prove this\nPart of the Story; but I answer, 'tis not likely but that _Abel_, as\nwell as _Cain_, being at Man's Estate long before this, had several\nChildren by their own Sisters, for they were the only Men in the World\nwho were allow'd the Marrying their own Sisters, there being no other\nWomen then in the World; and as we never read of any of _Abel_'s\nPosterity, 'tis likewise as probable they were all murther'd, as that\nthey should kill _Abel_ only, whose Sons might immediately fall upon\n_Cain_ for the Blood of their Father, and so the World have been\ninvolv'd in a Civil War as soon as there were two Families in it.\nBut be it so or not, 'tis not doubted the Devil wrought with _Cain_ in\nthe horrid Murther, or he had never done it; whether it was directly or\nby Agents is not material, nor is the Latter unlikely; and if the\nLatter, then there is no Improbability in the Story, for why might not\nhe that made Use of the Serpent to tempt _Eve_, be as well supposed to\nmake a Tool of some of _Cain_'s Sons or Grandsons to prompt him in the\nwicked Attempt of murthering his Brother? and why must we be oblig'd to\nbring in a Miracle or an Apparition into the Story, to make it probable\nthat the _Devil_ had any Hand in it, when 'twas so natural to a\ndegenerate Race to act in such a Manner?\nHowever it was, and by whatever Tool the _Devil_ wrought, 'tis certain\nthat this was the Consequence, poor _Abel_ was butcher'd, and thus the\n_Devil_ made a second Conquest in God's Creation; for _Adam_ was now, as\nmay be said, really Childless, for his two Sons were thus far lost,\n_Abel_ was killed, and _Cain_ was curst and driven out from the Presence\nof the Lord, and his Race blasted with him.\nIt would be a useful enquiry here, and worthy our giving an Account of,\ncould we come to a Certainty in it, namely, what was the Mark that God\nset upon _Cain_, by which he was kept from being fallen upon by _Abel_'s\nFriends or Relations? but as this does not belong to the _Devil_'s\nHistory, and it was God's Mark, not the _Devil_'s, I have nothing to do\nwith it here.\nThe _Devil_ had now gain'd his Point, the Kingdom of Grace, so newly\nerected, had been as it were extinct without a new Creation, had not\n_Adam_ and _Eve_ been alive, and had not _Eve_, tho' now 130 Years of\nAge, been a breeding young Lady, for we must suppose the Woman, in that\nState of Longevity, bare Children till they were seven or eight hundred\nYear old: This Teeming of _Eve_ peopled not the World so much as it\nrestored the blessed Race; for tho' _Abel_ was kill'd _Cain_ had a\nnumerous Offspring presently, which had _Seth_, (_Adam_'s third Son)\nnever been born, would soon have replenish'd the World with People, such\nas they were; the Seed of a Murtherer, cursed of God, branded with a\nMark of Infamy, and who afterwards fell all together in the universal\nRuine of the Race by the Deluge.\nBut after the Murther of _Abel_, _Adam_ had another Son born, namely,\n_Seth_, the Father of _Enos_, and indeed the Father of the holy Race;\nfor during his Time and his Son _Enos_, the Text says that Men began to\ncall on the Name of the Lord; that is to say, they began to look back\nupon _Cain_ and his wicked Race, and being convinc'd of the Wickedness\nthey had committed, and led their whole Posterity into, they began to\nsue to Heaven for Pardon of what was past, and to lead a new sort of\nLife.\nBut the _Devil_ had met with too much Success in his first Attempts, not\nto go on with his general Resolution of debauching the Minds of Men, and\nbringing them off from God; and therefore as he kept his Hold upon\n_Cain_'s cursed Race, embroil'd already in Blood and Murther; so he\nproceeded with his degenerate Offspring, till in a Word he brought both\nthe holy Seed and the degenerate Race to joyn in one universal Consent\nof Crime, and to go on in it with such aggravating Circumstances, as\nthat it repented the Lord that he had made Man, and he resolv'd to\noverwhelm them again with a general Destruction, and clear the World of\nthem.\nThe Succession of Blood in the royal original Line of _Adam_, is\npreserv'd in the sacred Histories and brought down as low as _Noah_ and\nhis three Sons, for a continu'd series of 1450 Years, say some, 1640\nsay others; in which Time Sin spread it self so generally thro' the\nwhole Race, and _the Sons of God_, so the Scripture calls the Men of the\nrighteous Seed, the Progeny of _Seth_, came in unto the _Daughters of\nMen_, that is, join'd themselves to the curs'd Race of _Cain_, and\nmarried promiscuously with them, according to their Fancies, the Women\nit seems being beautiful and tempting; and tho' the Devil could not make\nthe Women handsome or ugly in one or other Families, yet he might work\nup the Gust of wicked Inclination on either Side, so as to make both the\nMen and Women tempting and agreeable to one another, where they ought\nnot to have been so; and perhaps, as it is often seen to this Day, the\nmore tempting for being under legal Restraint.\nIt is objected here, that we do not find in the Scripture that the Men\nand Women of either Race were at that Time forbidden intermarrying with\none another; and it is true, that literally it is not forbid; but if we\ndid not search rather to make doubts than to explain them, we might\nsuppose it was forbidden by some particular Command at that Time; seeing\nwe may reasonably allow every Thing to be forbidden, which they are\ntax'd with a Crime in committing; and as the Sons of God taking them\nWives as they thought fit to choose, tho' from among the Daughters of\nthe cursed Race, is there charg'd upon them as a general Depravation,\nand a great Crime; and for which, 'tis said, GOD even repented that he\nhad made them, we need go no farther to satisfy our selves that it was\ncertainly forbidden.\n_Satan_ no doubt too had a Hand in this Wickedness; for as it was his\nBusiness to prompt Men to do every Thing which God had prohibited, so\nthe Reason given why the Men of those Days did this Thing was, they saw\nthe Daughters of Men, that is of the wicked Race or forbidden Sort,\n_were fair_, he tempted them by the Lust of the Eye; in a word, the\nLadies were beautiful and agreeable, and the _Devil_ knew how to make\nuse of the Allurement; the Men liked and took them by the meer Direction\nof their Fancy and Appetite, without regarding the supreme Prohibition;\n_They took them Wives of all which they chose_, or such as they lik'd to\nchoose.\nBut the Text adds, that this promiscuous Generation went farther than\nthe meer outward Crime of it, for it shew'd that the Wickedness of the\nHeart of Man was great before God, and that he resented it; In short,\nGod perceived a Degeneracy or Defect of Virtue had seiz'd upon the whole\nRace, that there was a general Corruption of Manners, a Depravity of\nNature upon them, that even the holy Seed was tainted with it, that the\nDevil had broken in upon them, and prevail'd to a great Degree; that not\nonly the Practice of the Age was corrupt, for that God could easily have\nrestrain'd, but that the very Heart of Man was debauch'd, his Desires\nwholly vitiated, and his Senses engag'd in it; so that in a Word, it\nbecame necessary to shew the divine Displeasure, not in the ordinary\nManner, by Judgment and Reproofs of such kind as usually reclaim Men,\nbut by a general Destruction to sweep them away, clear the Earth of\nthem, and put an End to the Wickedness at once, removing the Offence and\nthe Offenders all together; this is signify'd at large, Gen. vi. 5. _God\nsaw that the Wickedness of Man was great in the Earth, and that every\nImagination of the Thoughts of his Heart was only evil continually._ And\nagain ver. 11, 12. _The Earth also was corrupt before God; and the\nEarth was fill'd with Violence. And God look'd upon the Earth and\nbehold it was corrupt; for all Flesh had corrupted his Way upon the\nEarth._\nIt must be confess'd it was a strange Conquest the _Devil_ had made in\nthe Antediluvian World, that he had, as I may say, brought the whole\nRace of Mankind into a general Revolt from God; _Noah_ was indeed a\nPreacher of Righteousness, and he had preach'd about 500 Years to as\nlittle Purpose as most of the good Ministers ever did; for we do not\nread there was one Man converted by him, or at least not one of them\nleft, for that at the Deluge there was either none of them alive, or\nnone spar'd but _Noah_ and his three Sons, and their Wives; and even\nthey are ('tis evident) recorded, not so much to be sav'd for their own\nGoodness, but because they were his Sons; Nay, without Breach of Charity\nwe may conclude, that at least one went to the _Devil_ even of those\nthree, namely, _Ham_ or _Cham_ for triumphing in a brutal Manner over\nhis Father's Drunkenness; for we find the Special Curse reach'd to him\nand his Posterity for many Ages; and whether it went no farther than the\npresent State of Life with them, we cannot tell.\nWe will suppose now that thro' this whole 1500 Years the Devil having so\neffectually debauch'd Mankind, had advanc'd his infernal Kingdom to a\nprodigious Height; for the Text says, _the whole Earth was fill'd with\nviolence_; in a Word, Blood, Murder, Rape, Robbery, Oppression and\nInjustice prevail'd every where, and Man, like the wild Bear in the\nForest, liv'd by Prey, biting and devouring one another.\nAt this Time _Noah_ begins to preach a new Doctrine to them, for as he\nhad before been a Preacher of Righteousness, now he becomes a Preacher\nof Vengeance; first he tells them they shall be all overwhelm'd with a\nDeluge, that for their Sins God repented they were made, and that\nhe would destroy them all, adding, that to prevent the Ruin of himself\nand Family, he resolv'd to build him a Ship to have recourse to when the\nWater should come over the Rest of the World.\nWhat Jesting, what Scorn, what Contempt did this Work expose the good\nold Man to for above a 100 Years? for so long the Work was building, as\nantient Authors say; let us represent to our selves in the most lively\nManner how the witty World at that Time behav'd to poor old _Noah_; how\nthey took their Evening Walks to see what he was doing, and passed their\nJudgment upon it, and upon the Progress of it; I say, to represent this\nto our selves, we need go no farther than to our own Witicisms upon\nReligion, and upon the most solemn Mysteries of Divine Worship; how we\ndamn the Serious for Enthusiasts, think the Grave mad, and the Sober\nmelancholy; call Religion it self Flatus and Hyppo; make the Devout\nignorant, the Divine mercenary, and the whole Scheme of Divinity a Frame\nof Priestcraft; and thus no doubt the building an Ark or Boat, or\nwhatever they call'd it, to float over the Mountains, and dance over the\nPlains, what could it be but a religious Frenzy, and the Man that so\nbusied himself, a Lunatick? and all this in an Age when divine Things\ncame by immediate Revelation into the Minds of Men! the _Devil_ must\ntherefore have made a strange Conquest upon Mankind to obliterate all\nthe Reverence, which but a little before was so strangely impress'd upon\nthem concerning their Maker.\nThis was certainly the Height of the _Devil_'s Kingdom, and we shall\nnever find him arrive to such a Pitch again; he was then truly and\nliterally the universal Monarch, nay the God of this World; and as all\nTyrants do, he governs them with an arbitrary absolute sway; and had not\nGod thought fit to give him a Writ of Ejectment, and afterwards drown\nhim out of Possession I know not what would have been the Case, he might\nhave kept his Hold for ought I know till the Seed of the Woman came to\nbruise his Head, that is to say, cripple his Government, Dethrone him\nand Depose his Power, as has been fulfill'd in the Messiah.\nBut as he was, I say, drown'd out of the World, his Kingdom for the\npresent was at an End; at least, if he had a Dominion he had no\nSubjects, and as the Creation was in a Manner renewed, so the _Devil_\nhad all his Work to do over again: Unhappy Man! how has he, by his weak\nResistance, made the _Devil_, recovering his Hold too easy to him, and\ngiven him all the Advantages, except as before excepted, which he had\nbefore? Now whether he retired in the mean Time, and how he got footing\nagain after _Noah_ and his Family were landed upon the New Surface, that\nwe come next to enquire.\nCHAP. X.\n_Of the Devil's second Kingdom, and how he got footing in the renew'd\n     World by his Victory over_ Noah _and his Race_.\nThe Story of _Noah_, his building the Ark, his embarking himself and all\nNature's Stock for a new World on board it; the long Voyage they took,\nand the bad Weather they met with, tho' it would embellish this Work\nvery well, and come in very much to the Purpose in this Place, yet as\nit does not belong to the _Devil_'s Story, for I cannot prove what some\nsuggest (_viz._) that he was in the Ark among the Rest, I say, for that\nReason I must omit it.\nAnd now having mention'd Satan's being in the Ark; as I say, I cannot\nprove it, so there are, I think, some good Reasons to believe he was not\nthere: _First_, I know no Business he had there; _secondly_, we read of\nno Mischief done there, and these joyn'd together make me conclude he\nwas absent; the last I chiefly insist upon, that we read of no Mischief\ndone there, which if he had been in the Ark, would certainly have\nhappen'd; and therefore I suppose rather, that when he saw his Kingdom\ndissolv'd, his Subjects all ingulph'd in an inevitable Ruin and\nDesolation, a Sight suitable enough to him, except as it might unking\nhim for a Time; _I say_, when he saw this, he took care to speed himself\naway as well as he could, and make his Retreat to a Place of Safety,\nwhere that was, is no more difficult to us, than it was to him.\nIt is suggested that as he is Prince of the Power of the Air, he retired\nonly into that Region. It is most rational to suppose he went no further\non many Accounts, of which I shall speak by and by: Here he stay'd\nhovering in the Earth's Atmosphere, as he has often done since, and\nperhaps now does; or if the Atmosphere of this Globe was affected by the\nIndraft of the Absorption, as some think, then he kept himself upon the\nWatch, to see what the Event of the new Ph\u00e6nomenon would be, and this\nWatch, wherever it was, I doubt not, was as near the Earth as he could\nplace himself, perhaps in the Atmosphere of the Moon, or in a Word, the\nnext Place of Retreat he could find.\nFrom hence I took upon me to insist, that _Satan_ has not a more certain\nKnowledge of Events than we; I say, he has not a _more certain\nKnowledge_; that he may be able to make stronger Conjectures and more\nrational Conclusions from that he sees, I will not deny; and that which\nhe most outdoes us in is, that he sees more to conclude from than we\ncan, but I am satisfied he knows nothing of Futurity more than we can\nsee by Observation and Inference; nor, _for Example_, did he know\nwhether God would repeople the World any more or no.\nI must therefore allow that he only waited to see what would be the\nEvent of this strange Eruption of Water, and what God propos'd to do\nwith the Ark, and all that was in it.\nSome Philosophers tell us, besides what I hinted above, that the _Devil_\ncould have no Retreat in the Earth's Atmosphere, for that the Air being\nwholly condens'd into Water, and having continually pour'd down its\nStreams to deluge the Earth, that Body was become so small, and had\nsuffer'd such Convulsions, that there was but just enough Air left to\nsurround the Water, or as might serve by its Pressure to preserve the\nnatural Position of Things, and supply the Creatures in the Ark with a\nPart to breath in.\nThe Atmosphere indeed might suffer some strange and unnatural Motions at\nthat Time, but not (I believe) to that Degree, however, I will not\naffirm that there could be room in it, or is now for the Devil, much\nless for all the numberless Legions of Satan's Host; but there was, and\nnow certainly is, sufficient Space to receive him, and a sufficient Body\nof his Troops for the Business he had for them at that time, and that's\nenough to the Purpose; or if the Earth's Atmosphere did suffer any\nparticular Convulsion on that Occasion, he might make his Retreat to\nthe Atmosphere of the Moon, or of _Mars_, or of _Venus_, or of any of\nthe other Planets; or to any other Place, for he that is Prince of the\nAir could not want Retreats in such a Case, from whence he might watch\nfor the issue of Things; certainly he did not go far, because his\nBusiness lay here, and he never goes out of his Way of doing Mischief.\nIn particular, his more than ordinary Concern was, to see what would\nbecome of the Ark; he was wise enough doubtless to see, that GOD, who\nhad directed its making, nay even the very Structure of it, would\ncertainly take Care of it, preserve it upon the Water, and bring it to\nsome Place of Safety or other; tho' where it should be, the _Devil_ with\nall his Cunning could not resolve, whether on the same Surface the\nWaters drawing off, or in any other created or to be created Place; and\nthis State of Uncertainty being evidently his Case, and which proves his\nIgnorance of Futurity, it was his Business, _I say_, to watch with the\nutmost vigilance for the Event.\nIf the Ark was (as Mr. _Burnet_ thinks) guided by two Angels, they not\nonly held it from foundering or being swallow'd up in the Water, but\ncertainly kept the Waters calm about it, especially when the Lord\nbrought a strong Wind to blow over the whole Globe, which by the Way was\nthe first, and, I suppose, the only universal Storm that ever blew, for\nto be sure it blew over the whole Surface at once; I say, if it was thus\nguided, to be sure the _Devil_ saw it, and that with Envy and Regret\nthat he could do it no Injury, for doubtless had it been in the Devil's\nPower, as God had drown'd the whole Race of Man, except what was in the\nArk, he would have taken care to have dispatch'd them too, and so made\nan End of the Creation at once; but either he was not empower'd to go\nto the Ark, or it was so well guarded by Angels, that when he came near\nit he could do it no harm: So it rested at length, the Waters abating on\nthe Mountains of _Arrarat_ in _Armenia_, or some where else that Way,\nand where they say a Piece of the Keel is remaining to this Day; of\nwhich, however with Dr. ------ I say, I believe not one Word.\nThe Ark being safe landed, 'tis reasonable to believe _Noah_ prepared to\ngo on Shore, as the Seamen call it, as soon as the dry Land began to\nappear; and here you must allow me to suppose Satan, tho' himself\ncloth'd with a Cloud, so as not to be seen, came immediately, and\npearching on the Roof, saw all the Heaven-kept Houshold safely landed,\nand all the Host of living Creatures dispersing themselves down the\nSides of the Mountain, as the Search of their Food or other proper\nOccasions directed them.\nThis Sight was enough; Satan was at no Loss to conclude from hence that\nthe Design of God was to repeople the World by the Way of ordinary\nGeneration, from the Posterity of these eight Persons, without creating\nany new Species.\nVery well, says the _Devil_, then my Advantage over them, by the Snare I\nlaid for poor _Eve_, is good still; and I am now just where I was after\n_Adam_'s Expulsion from the Garden, and when I had _Cain_ and his Race\nto go to work with; for here is the old expung'd Corrupted Race still,\nas _Cain_ was the Object then, so _Noah_ is my Man now, and if I do not\nmaster him one way or another, I am mistaken in my Mark. _Pardon me for\nmaking a Speech for_ the Devil.\n_Noah_ big with a Sense of his late Condition, and while the Wonders of\nthe Deluge were fresh in his Mind, spent his first Days in the Extasies\nof his Soul, giving Thanks, and praising the Power that had been his\nProtection, in and thro' the Flood of Waters, and which had in so\nmiraculous a Manner, safely landed him on the Surface of the newly\ndiscover'd Land; and the Text tells us, as one of the first Things he\nwas employ'd in, _He built an Altar unto the Lord, and offered\nBurnt-Offerings upon the Altar_. Gen. viii. 20.\nWhile _Noah_ was thus employ'd he was safe, the _Devil_ himself could no\nwhere break in upon him; and we may suppose very reasonably, as he found\nthe old Father invulnerable, he left him for some Years, watching\nnotwithstanding all possible Advantages against his Sons and their\nChildren; for now the Family began to encrease, and _Noah_'s Sons had\nseveral Children; whether himself had any more Children after the Flood\nor not, that we are not arriv'd to any Certainty about.\nAmong his Sons the _Devil_ found _Japhet_ and _Shem_, good, pious,\nreligious, and very devout Persons; serving God daily, after the Example\nof their good old Father _Noah_, and he could make nothing of them or of\nany of their Posterity; but _Ham_ the second, or according to some, the\nyounger Son of _Noah_, had a Son who was nam'd _Canaan_, a loose young\nprofligate Fellow, his Education was probably but cursory and\nsuperficial, his Father _Ham_ not being near so religious and serious a\nMan as his Brothers _Shem_ and _Japhet_ were; and as _Canaan_'s\nEducation was defective, so he prov'd, as untaught Youth generally do, a\nwild, and in short a very wicked Fellow, and consequently a fit Tool for\nthe _Devil_ to go to work with.\n_Noah_, a diligent industrious Man, being with all his Family thus\nplanted in the rich fruitful Plains of _Armenia_, or wherever you\nplease, let it be near the Mountains of _Caucasus_ or _Arrarat_; went\nimmediately to work, cultivating and improving the Soil, encreasing his\nCattle and Pastures, sowing Corn, and among other Things planting Trees\nfor Food, and among the Fruit Trees he planted Vines, of the Grapes\nthereof he made no doubt, as they still in the same Country do make,\nmost excellent Wine, rich, luscious, strong, and pleasant.\nI cannot come into the Notion of our Criticks, who to excuse _Noah_ from\nthe guilt of what followed, or at least from the Censure, tell us, he\nknew not the Strength or the Nature of Wine, but that gathering the\nheavy Clusters of the Grapes, and their own weight crushing out their\nbalmy Juices into his Hand, he tasted the tempting Liquor, and that the\n_Devil_ assisting he was charm'd with the delicious Fragrance, and\ntasted again and again, pressing it out into a Bowl or Dish, that he\nmight take a larger Quantity; till at length the heady Froth ascended\nand seizing his Brain, he became intoxicate and drunk, not in the least\nimagining there was any such Strength in the Juice of that excellent\nFruit.\nBut to make out this Story, which is indeed very favourable for _Noah_,\nbut in it self extremely ridiculous, you must necessarily fall into some\nAbsurdities, and beg the Question most egregiously in some particular\nCases, which way of arguing will by no means suppose what is suggested;\nat first you must support there was no such Thing as Wine made before\nthe Deluge, and that no Body had been ever made drunk with the Juice of\nthe Grape before _Noah_, which, I say, is begging the Question in the\ngrossest Manner.\nIf the Contrary is true, as I see no Reason to question, if, _I say_, it\nwas true that there was Wine drank, and that Men were or had been drunk\nwith it before, they cannot then but suppose that _Noah_, who was a\nwise, a great and a good Man, and _a Preacher of Righteousness_, both\nknew of it, and without doubt had in his preaching against their Crimes,\npreach'd against this among the rest, upbraided them with it, reprov'd\nthem for it, and exhorted them against it.\n_Again_, 'tis highly probable they had Grapes growing, and consequently\nWines made from them, in the Antediluvian World, how else did _Noah_\ncome by the Vines which he planted? For we are to suppose, he could\nplant no Trees or Shrubs, but such as he found the Roots of in the\nEarth, and which no doubt had been there before in their highest\nPerfection, and had consequently grown up and brought forth the same\nluscious Fruit before.\nBesides, as he found the Roots of the Vines, so he understood what they\nwere, and what Fruit they bore, or else it may be supposed also he would\nnot have planted them; for he planted them for their Fruit, as he did it\nin the Provision he was making for his Subsistence, and the Subsistence\nof his Family: and if he did not know what they were, he would not have\nset them, for he was not planting for Diversion but for Profit.\nUpon the whole it seems plain to me he knew what he did, as well when he\nplanted the Vines as when he pressed out the Grapes; and also when he\ndrank the Juice that he knew it was Wine, was strong and would make him\ndrunk if he took enough of it: He knew that other Men had been drunk\nwith such Liquor before the Flood, and that he had reprehended them for\nit; and therefore it was not his Ignorance, but the _Devil_ took him at\nsome Advantage, when his Appetite was eager, or he thirsty, and the\nLiquor cooling and pleasant; and in short, as _Eve_ said, _the Serpent\nbeguilded her_, and she DID EAT, so the Devil beguiled _Noah_, and _he_\nDID DRINK; the Temptation was too strong for _Noah_, not the Wine; he\nknew well enough what he did, but as the Drunkards say to this Day, it\nwas so good he could not forbear it, and so he got drunk before he was\naware; or as our ordinary Speech expresses it, _he was overtaken with\ndrink_; and Mr. _Pool_ and other Expositors are partly of the same Mind.\nNo sooner was the poor old Man conquer'd, and the Wine had lighten'd his\nHead, but it may be supposed he falls off from the Chair or Bench where\nhe sate, and tumbling backward his Clothes, which in those hot Countries\nwere only loose open Robes, like the Vests which the _Armenians_ wear to\nthis Day, flying abroad, or the _Devil_ so assisting on purpose to\nexpose him, he lay there in a naked indecent Posture not fit to be seen.\nIn this juncture who should come by but young _Canaan_, say some; or as\nothers think, this young Fellow first attack'd him by way of Kindness\nand pretended Affection; prompted his Grandfather to drink, on Pretence\nof the Wine being good for him, and proper for the Support of his old\nAge, and subtilly set upon him, drinking also with him, and so (his Head\nbeing too strong for the old Man's) drank him down, and then, _Devil_\nlike, triumph'd over him; boasted of his Conquest, insulted the Body as\nit were dead, uncovered him on purpose to expose him, and leaving him in\nthat indecent Posture, went and made Sport with it to his Father _Ham_,\nwho in that Part, wicked like himself, did the same to his Brethren\n_Japhet_ and _Shem_; but they like modest and good Men, far from\ncarrying on the wicked Insult on their Parent, went and cover'd him, as\nthe Scripture expresses it, and as may be supposed inform'd him how he\nhad been abus'd, and by whom.\nWhy else should _Noah_, when he came to himself, shew his Resentment so\nmuch against _Canaan_ his Grandson, rather than against _Ham_ his\nFather, and who 'tis supposed in the Story the guilt chiefly lay upon?\nwe see the Curse is (as it were) laid wholly upon _Canaan_ the Grandson,\nand not a Word of the Father is mention'd, Gen. ix. 25, 26, 27, _Cursed\nbe_ Canaan, _a Servant of Servants shall he be_, &c.\nThat _Ham_ was Guilty, that's certain from the History of Fact, but I\ncannot but suppose his Grandson was the Occasion of it; and in this Case\nthe Devil seems to have made _Canaan_ the Instrument or Tool to delude\n_Noah_, and draw him in to Drunkenness, as he made the Serpent the Tool\nto beguile _Eve_, and draw her into Disobedience.\nPossibly _Canaan_ might do it without Design at first, but might be\nbrought in to ridicule and make a Jest of the old Patriarch afterward,\nas is too frequent since in the Practice of our Days; but I rather\nbelieve he did it really with a wicked Design, and on Purpose to expose\nand insult his Reverend old Parent; and this seems more likely too,\nbecause of the great Bitterness with which _Noah_ resented it, after he\ncame to be inform'd of it.\nBut be that as it will, the _Devil_ certainly made a great Conquest\nhere, and as to outward Appearance no less than that which he gain'd\nbefore over _Adam_; nor did the _Devil_'s Victory consist barely in his\nhaving drawn in the only righteous Man of the whole Antediluvian World,\nand so beginning or initiating the new young Progeny with a Crime; but\nhere was the great Oracle silenc'd at once; the Preacher of\nRighteousness, for such no doubt he would have been to the new World, as\nhe was to the old, I say, the Preacher was turn'd out of Office, or his\nMouth stopt, which was worse; nay, it was a stopping of his Mouth in the\nworst kind, far worse than stopping his Breath, for had he died, the\nOffice had descended to his sons _Shem_ and _Japhet_, but he was dead to\nthe Office of an Instructor, tho' alive as to his Being; For of what\nForce could his Preachings be, who had thus fallen himself into the most\nshameful and beastly Excess?\nBesides some are of the Opinion, tho' I hope without Ground, that _Noah_\nwas not only overtaken once in his Drink, but that being fallen into\nthat Sin it became habitual, and he continued in it a great while, and\nthat it was this which is the meaning of his being uncovered in his\nTent, and that his Son saw his Nakedness; that is, he continually\nexposed himself for a long Time, a hundred Years, say they, and that his\nSon _Ham_, and his Grandson _Canaan_ having drawn him into it, kept him\nin it, encourag'd and prompted it, and all the while Satan still\nprompting them, join'd their Scoffs and contempt of him, with their\nwicked Endeavours to promote the Wickedness; and both with as much\nSuccess as the Devil himself could wish for.\nThen as for his two Sons modestly and decently covering their Father,\nthey tell us, that Represents _Shem_ and _Japhet_ applying themselves in\nan humble and dutiful Manner to their Father, to entreat and beseech him\nto consider his ancient Glory, his own pious Exhortations to the late\ndrowned World, and to consider the Offence which he gave by his evil\nCourses to God, and the Scandal to his whole Family, and also that they\nare brought in effectually prevailing upon him; and that then _Noah_\ncursed the Wickedness of _Ham_'s degenerate Race, in Testimony of his\nsincere Repentance after the Fact.\nThe Story is not so very unlikely as it is certain that it is not to be\nproved, and therefore we had better take it as we find it (_viz._) for\none single Act; but suppose it was so, 'tis still certain that _Noah_'s\nPreaching was sadly interrupted, the Energy of his Words flatter'd, and\nthe Force of his Persuasions enervated and abated, by this shameful\nFall; that he was effectually silenc'd for an Instructor ever after, and\nthis was as much as the Devil had Occasion for; and therefore indeed we\nread little more of him, except that he lived three hundred and fifty\nYears after the Flood; nay, we do not so much as read that he had any\nmore Children, but the contrary, nor indeed could _Noah_ have any more\nChildren, except by his old and perhaps super-annuated Wife, who it was\nvery likely he had had four or five hundred Year, unless you will\nsuppose he was allow'd to marry some of his own Progeny, Daughters or\nGrandaughters, which we do not suppose was allow'd, no not to _Adam_\nhimself.\nThis was certainly a Master-piece of the _Devil_'s Policy, and a fatal\nInstance of his unhappy Diligence, (_viz._) that the Door of the Ark was\nno sooner open, and the Face of the World hardly dry from the universal\nDestruction of Mankind, but he was at work among them; and that not only\nto form a general Defection among the Race, upon the Foot of the\noriginal Taint of Nature, but like a bold _Devil_ he strikes at the very\nRoot, and flies at the next general Representative of Mankind, attacks\nthe Head of the Family, that in his Miscarriage the Rise and Progress of\na Reformation of the new World should receive an early Check, and should\nbe at once prevented; I say, like a bold Devil, he strikes at the Root,\nand _alas!_ poor unhappy _Noah_, he proved too weak for him, _Satan_\nprevail'd in his very first Attempt, and got the Victory over him at\nonce.\n_Noah_ thus overcome, and Satan's Conquest carried on to the utmost of\nhis own Wishes, the _Devil_ had little more to do in the World for some\nAges, than to carry on an universal Degeneracy among Mankind, and to\nfinish it by a like diligent Application, in deluding the Generality of\nthe Race, and them as they came on gradually into Life; this he found\nthe less difficult, because of the first Defection which spread like a\nContagion upon the Earth immediately after.\nThe first Evidence we have of his Success in this mischievous Design was\nin the Building that great stupendious Stair-case, for such it seems it\nwas intended, call'd _Babel_, which if the whole World had not been\ndrunk, or otherwise infatuated, they would never have undertaken; even\nSatan himself could never have prevail'd with them to undertake such a\npreposterous Piece of Work, for it had neither End or Means, Possibility\nor Probability in it.\nI must confess I am sometimes apt to vindicate our old Ancestors, in my\nThoughts, from the Charge it self, as we generally understand it,\nnamely, that they really design'd to build a Tower which should reach up\nto Heaven, or that it should secure them in case of another Flood; and\nFather _Casaubon_ is of my Opinion, whether I am of his or no, is a\nQuestion by it self; his opinion is that the Confusion was nothing but a\nBreach among the Undertakers and Directors of the Work, and that the\nBuilding was design'd chiefly for a Store-house for Provisions, in Case\nof a second Deluge; as to their Notion of its reaching up to Heaven, he\ntakes the Expression to be allegorical rather than little, and only to\nmean that it should be exceeding high; perhaps they might not be\nAstronomers enough to measure the Distance of Space between the Earth\nand Heaven, as we pretend to do now; but as _Noah_ was then alive, and\nas we believe all his three Sons were so too, they were able to have\ninform'd them how absurd it was to suppose either the one or the other\n(_viz_.) (1.) that they could build up to Heaven, or (2.) that they\ncould build firm enough to resist, or high enough to overtop the Waters,\nsupposing such another Flood should happen; I would rather think it was\nonly that they intended to build a most glorious and magnificent City,\nwhere they might all inhabit together; and that this Tower was to be\nbuilt for Ornament and also for Strength, or as above, and for a\nStore-house to lay up vast Magazines of Provisions, in Case of\nextraordinary Floods or other Events, the City being built in a great\nPlain, namely, the Plains of _Shimar_ near the River _Euphrates_.\nBut the Story, as it is recorded, suits better with Satan's Measures at\nthat Time; and as he was from the Beginning prompting them to every\nThing that was contrary to the Happiness of Man, so the more\npreposterous it was, and the more inconsistent with common Sense, the\nmore to his Purpose; and it shew'd the more what a compleat Conquest he\nhad gain'd over the Reason as well as the Religion of Mankind at that\nTime.\nAgain, 'tis evident in this Case, they were not only acting contrary to\nthe Nature of Things, but contrary to the Design and to the Command of\nHeaven; for God's Command was that they should replenish the Earth, that\nis, that they should spread their Habitations over it, and People the\nwhole Globe; whereas they were pitching in one Place, as if they were\nnot to multiply sufficient to take up any more.\nBut what car'd the Devil for that, or to put it a little handsomer, that\nwas what _Satan_ aimed at; for it was enough to him, to bring Mankind\nto act just contrary to what _Heaven_ had directed or commanded them in\nany thing, and if possible in every Thing.\nBut God himself put a stop to this foolish Piece of Work, and it was\ntime indeed to do so, for a madder thing the Devil himself never\nproposed to them; I say, God himself put a stop to this new Undertaking,\nand disappointed the Devil; and how was it done? not in Judgment and\nAnger, as perhaps the Devil expected and hop'd for, but as pitying the\nSimplicity of that dreaming Creature Man, he confused their Speech, or\nas some say, divided and confused their Councils, so that they could not\nagree with one another, which would be the same Thing as not to\nunderstand one another; or he put a new Shibboleth upon their Tongues,\nthereby separating them into Tribes or Families, for by this every\nFamily found themselves under a Necessity of keeping together, and this\nnaturally encreased that Differing Jargons of Language, for at first it\nmight be no more.\nWhat a Confusion this was to them we all know, by their being oblig'd to\nleave off their building, and immediately separating one from another;\nbut what a Surprize it was to the old Serpent, that remains to be\nconsidered of, for indeed it belongs to his History.\nSatan had never met with any Disappointment in all his wicked Attempts\ntill now; for first, he succeeded even to triumph upon _Eve_, he did the\nlike upon _Cain_, and in short upon the whole World, _one Man_ (Noah)\n_excepted_; when he blended the Sons of God, and the Daughters of Hell,\nfor so the Word is understood, together, in promiscuous voluptuous\nLiving as well as Generation.\nAs to the Deluge, Authors are not agreed whether it was a Disappointment\nto the Devil or no, it might be indeed a Surprize to him, for tho'\n_Noah_ had preach'd of it for a hundred Year together, yet as he\n(_Satan_) daily prompted the People not to heed or believe what that old\nFellow _Noah_ said to them, and to ridicule his whimsical Building a\nmonstrous Tub to swim or float in, when the said Deluge should come; so\nI am of the Opinion he did not believe it himself, and am positive he\ncould not foresee it, by any insight into Futurity that he was Master\nof.\n'Tis true the Astronomers tell us, there was a very terrible Comet seen\nin the Air, that it appeared for 180 Days before the Flood continually;\nand that as it approach'd nearer and nearer every Day all the while, so\nthat at last it burst and fell down in a continual Spout or Stream of\nWater, being of a watry Substance, and the Quantity so great, that it\nwas forty Days a falling; so that this Comet not only foretold the\nDeluge or drowning of the Earth, but actually perform'd it, and drown'd\nit from it self.\nBut to leave this Tale to them that told it, let us consider the Devil,\nsurpris'd, and a little amaz'd at the Absorption or Inundation, or\nwhatever we are to call it, of the Earth in the Deluge, not, I say, that\nhe was much concern'd at it, perhaps just the Contrary; and if God would\ndrown it again, and as often as he thought fit, I do not see by any\nthing I meet with in Satan's History, or in the Nature of him, that he\nwould be at all disturb'd at it; all that I can see in it, that could\ngive Satan any Concern, would be that all his Favourites were gone, and\nhe had his Work to do over again, to lay a Foundation for a new Conquest\nin the Generation that was to come; But in this his Prospect was fair\nenough, for why should he be discouraged, when he had now eight People\nto work upon, who met with such Success when he had but two? and why\nshould he question breaking in now where Nature was already vitiated and\ncorrupted, when he had before conquer'd the same Nature, when in its\nprimitive Rectitude and Purity, just come out of the Hands of its Maker,\nand fortify'd with the Awe of his high and solemn Command just given\nthem, and the threatning of Death also annext to it, if broken?\nBut I go back to the Affair of _Babel_: This Confusion of Language or of\nCouncils, take it which way you will, as the first Disappointment that I\nfind the Devil met with, in all his Attempts and Practices upon Mankind,\nor upon the new Creature, which I mentioned above; for now he foresaw\nwhat would follow; namely, that the People would separate and spread\nthemselves over the whole Surface of the Earth, and a thousand new\nScenes of Actions would appear, in which he therefore prepares himself\nto behave as he should see Occasion.\nHow the Devil learn'd to speak all the Languages that were now to be\nused, and how many languages they were, the several ancient Writers of\nthe _Devil_'s Story have not yet determined; some tell us they were\ndivided only into fifteen, some into seventy two, others into one\nhundred and eighty, and others again into several Thousands.\nIt also remains a doubt with me, and, I suppose, will be so with others\nalso, whether Satan has yet found out a Method to converse with Mankind,\nwithout the Help of Language and Words, or not: Seeing Man has no other\nMedium of Conversing, no not with himself: This I have not time to enter\nupon here; however, this seems plain to me (_viz._) that the _Devil_\nsoon learn'd to make Mankind understand him, whatever Language he spoke,\nand no doubt but he found Ways and Means to understand them, whatever\nLanguage they spoke.\nAfter the Confusion of Languages, the People necessarily sorted\nthemselves into Families and Tribes, every Family understanding their\nown particular Speech, and that only; and these Families multiplying\ngrew into Nations, and those Nations wanting Room, and seeking out\nHabitations wandred some this Way, some that, till they found out\nCountries respectively proper for their settling, and there they became\na Kingdom, spreading and possessing still more and more Land as their\nPeople encreased, till at last the whole Earth was scarce big enough for\nthem: This presented _Satan_ with an Opportunity to break in upon their\nMorals at another Door, (_viz._) their Pride; for Men being naturally\nProud and Envious, Nations and Tribes began to jostle with one another\nfor Room; either one Nation enjoy'd better Accommodations, or had a\nbetter Soil or a more favourable Climate than another; and these being\nnumerous and strong thrust the other out, and encroach'd upon their\nLand; the other liking their Situation, prepare for their Defence, and\nso began Oppression, Invasion, War, Battle and Blood, Satan all the\nwhile beating the Drums, and his Attendants clapping their Hands, as Men\ndo when they set Dogs on upon one another.\nThe bringing Mankind thus to _War_ and _Confusion_, as it was the first\nGame the Devil play'd after the confounding of Languages and Divisions\nat _Babel_ so it was a Conquest upon Mankind, purely devilish, born from\nHell, and so exactly tinctured with Satan's original Sin _Ambition_,\nthat it really transform'd Men into meer Devils; for when is Man\ntransform'd into the very Image of Satan himself, when is he turn'd into\na meer Devil, if it is not when he is fighting with his fellow\nCreatures and dipping his Hands in the Blood of his own Kind? Let his\nPicture be consider'd, the Fire of Hell flames or sparkles in his Eyes,\na voracious Grin sits upon his Countenance; Rage and Fury distort the\nMuscles of his Face; his Passions agitate his whole Body, and he is\nmetamorphos'd from a comely Beauteous angelic Creature into a _Fury_, a\n_Satyr_, a terrible and frightful Monster, nay, into a _Devil_; for\n_Satan_ himself is describ'd by the same Word which on his very Account\nis chang'd into a Substantive, and the Devils are call'd _Furies_.\nThis sowing the Seeds of Strife in the World, and bringing Nations to\nfight and make War upon one another, would take up a great Part of the\n_Devil_'s History, and abundance of extraordinary Things would occur in\nrelating the particulars; for there have been very great Conflagrations\nkindled in the World, by the Artifice of Hell, under this Head, (_viz._)\nof making War; in which it has been the _Devil_'s Master-piece, and he\nhas indeed shewn himself a Workman in it, that he has wheedled Mankind\ninto strange unnatural Notions of things, in order to propagate and\nsupport the fighting Principle in the World; such as Laws of War, fair\nFighting, behaving like Men of Honour, fighting at the last Drop, and\nthe like, by which killing and murdering is understood to be\njustifiable. Virtue and a true Greatness in Spirit is rated now by Rules\nwhich God never appointed, and the Standard of Honour is quite different\nfrom that of Reason and of Nature: Bravery is denominated not from a\nfearless undaunted Spirit in the just Defence of Life and Liberty, but\nfrom a daring Defiance of God and Man, fighting, killing and treading\nunder Foot his fellow Creatures, at the ordinary Command of the Officer,\nwhether it be right or wrong, and whether it be in a just Defence of\nLife, and our Country's Life, that is Liberty, or whether it be for the\nSupport of Injury and Oppression.\nA prudent avoiding causeless Quarrels is call'd Cowardice, and to take\nan affront Baseness, and Meanness of Spirit; to refuse fighting, and\nputting Life at a Cast on the Point of a Sword, a Practice forbid by the\nLaws of God and of all good Government, is yet call'd Cowardice; and a\nMan is bound to die duelling, or live and be laugh'd at.\nThis trumping up these imaginary Things call'd Bravery and Gallantry,\nnaming them Virtue and Honour, is all from the _Devil_'s new Management,\nand his subtil influencing the Minds of Men to fly in the Face of God\nand Nature, and to act against his Senses; nor but for his Artifice in\nthe Management, could it be possible that such Inconsistencies could go\ndown with Mankind, or they could pass such absurd Things among them for\nreasoning; for Example, A is found in Bed with B's Wife, B is the Person\ninjur'd, and therefore offended, and coming into the Chamber with his\nSword in his Hand, A exclaims loudly, _Why Sir, you won't murder me,\nwill you? as you are a Man of Honour let me rise and take my Sword_.\nA very good Story indeed! fit for no body but the Devil to put into any\nMan's Head; But so it is, B being put in mind, forsooth, that he is _a\nMan of Honour_, starts back and must act the honourable Part; so he lets\nA get up, put on his Clothes and take his Sword; then they fight, and B\nis kill'd for his Honour; whereas had the Laws of God, of Nature and of\nReason taken Place, the Adulterer and the Adulteress should have been\ntaken Prisoners and carried before the Judge, and being taken in the\nFact, should have been immediately sentenc'd, he to the Block and she to\nthe Stake, and the innocent abus'd Husband had no Reason to have run\nany Risque of his Life for being made a Cuckold.\nBut thus has _Satan_ abus'd the Reason of Man; and if a Man does me the\ngreatest Injury in the World, I must do my self Justice upon him, by\nventuring my life upon an even Lay with him, and must fight him upon\nequal Hazard, in which the injur'd Person is as often kill'd as the\nPerson offering the Injury: Suppose now it be in the same Case _as\nabove_, a Man abuses my Wife, and then to give me Satisfaction, tells\nme, he will fight me, which the _French_ call _doing me Reason_; _No\nSir_, say I, _let me lie with your Wife too, and then if you desire it,\nI may fight you; then I am upon even Terms with you_; but this indeed is\nthe Reasoning which the _Devil_ has brought Mankind too at this Day: But\nto go back to the Subject, _viz._ the Devil bringing the Nations to fall\nout, and to quarrel for Room in the World, and so to fight in order to\ndispossess one another of their Settlements: This began at a Time when\ncertainly there were Places enough in the World for every one to choose\nin, and therefore the _Devil_, not the want of Elbow-room, must be the\nOccasion of it; and 'tis carried on ever since, as apparently from the\nsame Interest, and by the same original.\nBut we shall meet with this Part again very often in the _Devil_'s\nStory, and as we bring him farther on in the Management of Mankind, I\ntherefore lay it by for the Present, and come to the next Steps the\n_Devil_ took with Mankind after the Confusion of Languages, and this was\nin the Affair of Worship; It does not appear yet that ever the _Devil_\nwas so bold, as either,\n1. To set himself up to be worship'd as a God, or which was still worse,\n2. To persuade Man to believe there was no God at all to worship.\nBoth these are introduc'd since the Deluge, _one_ indeed by the _Devil_,\nwho soon found Means to set himself up for a God in many Parts of the\nWorld, and holds it to this Day; but the _last_ is brought in by the\nInvention of Man, in which it must be confess'd Man has out-sin'd the\nDevil; for to do Satan justice, he never thought it could ever pass upon\nMankind, or that any Thing so gross would go down with them; so that,\n_in short_, these modern Casuists, in the Reach of our Days, have, _I\nsay_, out-sin'd the _Devil_.\nAs then both these are modern Inventions, _Satan_ went on gradually, and\nbeing to work upon human Nature by Stratagem, not by Force, it would\nhave been too gross to have set himself up as an Object of Worship at\nfirst, it was to be done Step by Step; _for Example_.\n     1. It was sufficient to bring Mankind to a Neglect of God, to\n     worship him by halves, and give little or no Regard to his Laws,\n     and so grow loose and immoral, in direct Contradiction to his\n     Commands; this would not go down with them at first, so the Devil\n     went on gradually.\n     2. From a Negligence in worshiping the true GOD, he by Degrees\n     introduc'd the worship of false GODs; and to introduce this he\n     began with the _Sun_, _Moon_, and _Stars_, call'd in the holy Text\n     the Host of Heaven; these had greater Majesty upon them, and seem'd\n     fitter to command the Homage of Mankind; so it was not the hardest\n     Thing in the World, to bring Men, when they had once forgotten the\n     true God, to embrace the Worship of such Gods as those.\n     3. Having thus debauch'd their Principles in Worship, and led them\n     from the true and only Object of Worship to a false, it was the\n     easier to carry them on; so in a few Gradations more he brought\n     them to downright Idolatry, and even in that Idolatry he proceeded\n     gradually too; for he began with awful Names, such as were\n     venerable in the Thoughts of Men, as BAAL or BELL, which, in\n     _Chaldaick_ and _Hebrew_, signifies Lord or Sovereign, or Mighty\n     and Magnificent, and this was therefore a Name ascrib'd at first to\n     the true God; but afterwards they descended to make Images and\n     Figures to represent him, and then they were call'd by the same\n     Name, as _Baal_, _Baalim_, and afterwards _Bell_; from which, by a\n     hellish Degeneracy, Saturn brought Mankind to adore every Block of\n     their own hewing, and to worshipping Stocks, Stones, Monsters,\n     Hobgoblins, and every sordid frightful Thing, and at last the\n     _Devil_ himself.\nWhat Notions some People may entertain of the Forwardness of the first\nAges of the World, to run into Idolatry, I do not enquire here; I know\nthey tell us strange Things, of its being the Product of meer Nature,\none remove from its primitive State; but I, who pretend to have so\ncritically enquir'd into _Satan_'s History, can assure you, and that\nfrom very good Authority, that the _Devil_ did not find it so easy a\ntask to obliterate the Knowledge of the true God, in the Minds and\nConsciences of Men, as those People suggest.\nIt is true he carried Things a great Length under the Patriarchal\nGovernment of the first Ages, but still he was sixteen hundred Years\nbringing it to pass; and tho' we have Reason to believe the old World,\nbefore the Flood was arrived to a very great Height of Wickedness, and\n_Ovid_ very nobly describes it by the War of the _Titans_ against\n_Jupiter_, yet we do not read that ever Satan was come to such a Length\nas to bring them to Idolatry; indeed we do read of Wars carried on among\nthem, whether it was one Nation against another, or only Personal, we\ncannot tell; But the World seem'd to be swallow'd up in a Life of\nWickedness, that is to say, of Luxury and Lewdness, Rapine and Violence,\nand there were _Giants_ among them, and Men of Renown, that is to say,\nMen fam'd for their mighty Valour, great Actions of War we may suppose,\nand their Strength, who personally oppos'd others. We read of no\nconsiderable Wars indeed, but 'tis not to be doubted but there was such\nWars, or else it is to be understood that they liv'd (in common) a Life\nsomewhat like the Brutes, the Strong devouring the Weak; for the Text\nsays, _the whole Earth was filled with Violence_, hunting and tearing\none another in Pieces, either for Dominion or for Wealth, either for\nAmbition or for Avarice, we know not well which.\nThus far the old Antediluvian World went, and very wicked they were,\nthere is no doubt of that; but we have Reason to believe that was no\nIdolatry, the _Devil_ had not brought them to that Length yet: perhaps\nit would soon have follow'd, but the Deluge interven'd.\nAfter the Deluge, _as I have said_, he had all his Work to do over\nagain, and he went on by the same Steps; _first_ he brought them to\nViolence and War, then to Oppression and Tyranny, then to neglect of\ntrue Worship, then to false worship, and then Idolatry by the meer\nnatural Consequence of the Thing; who were the first Nation or People\nthat fell from the Worship of the true God, is something hard to\ndetermine; the _Devil_, who certainly of all _God_'s Creatures is best\nable to inform us, having left us nothing upon Record upon that\nSubject, but we have Reason to believe it was thus introduc'd.\n_Nimrod_ was the Grandson of _Ham_, _Noah_'s second Son, the same who\nwas cursed by his Father for exposing him in his Drunkenness: This\n_Nimrod_ was the first who it seems _Satan_ pick'd out for a Hero: Here\nhe inspir'd him with ambitious Thoughts, dreams of Empire, and having\nthe Government of all the Rest, _that is to say_, universal Monarchy;\nthe very same Bait with which he has plaid upon the Frailty of Princes,\nand ensnar'd the greatest of them ever since, even from his most August\nImperial Majesty King _Nimrod_ the first, to his most Christian Majesty\n_Louis_ the XIV. and many a mighty Monarch between.\nWhen these mighty Monarchs and Men of Fame went off the Stage, the World\nhad their Memories in esteem many Ages after; and as their great Actions\nwere no otherwise recorded than by oral Tradition, and the Tongues and\nMemories of fallible Men, Time and the Custom of magnifying the past\nActions of Kings, Men soon fabl'd up their Histories, _Satan assisting_,\ninto Miracle and Wonder: Hence their Names were had in Veneration more\nand more; Statues and Bustoes representing their Persons and great\nActions were set up in public Places, till from Heroes and Champions\nthey made Gods of them, and thus (_Satan_ prompting) the World was\nquickly fill'd with Idols.\nThis _Nimrod_ is he, who according to the received Opinion, tho' I do\nnot find Satan's History exactly concurring with it, was first call'd\n_Belus_, then _Baal_, and worship'd in most of the eastern Countries\nunder those Names; sometimes with Additions of Sir-names, according to\nthe several countries, or People, or Towns where he was particularly\nset up, as _Baal Peor_, _Baal Zephon_, _Baal Phegor_, and in other\nPlaces plain _Baal_, as _Jupiter_ in after Times had the like Additions;\nas _Jupiter Ammon_, _Jupiter Capitolinus_, _Jupiter Pistor_, _Jupiter\nFeretrius_, and about ten or twelve _Jupiters_ more.\nI must acknowledge, that I think it was a Master-piece of Hell to bring\nthe World to Idolatry so soon after they had had such an eminent Example\nof the infinite Power of the true God, as was seen in the Deluge, and\nparticularly in the Escape of _Noah_ in the Ark, to bring them (even\nbefore _Noah_ or his Sons were dead) to forget whose Hand it was, and\ngive the Homage of the World to a Name, and that a Name of a mortal Man\ndead and rotten, who was famous for nothing when he was alive but Blood\nand War; I say, to bring the World to set up this Nothing, this meer\nName, nay the very Image and Picture of him for _a God_, it was _first_\na Mark of most prodigious Stupidity in the whole Race of Men, a\nmonstrous Degeneracy from Nature, and even from common Sense; and in the\nnext Place 'twas a token of an inexpressible Craft and Subtilty in the\n_Devil_, who had now gotten the People into so full and compleat a\nManagement, that in short, he could have brought them, by the same Rule,\nto have worship'd any thing; and in a little while more, did bring many\nof them to worship himself, _plain Devil as he was_, and knowing him to\nbe such.\nAs to the Antiquity of this horrible Defection of Mankind, tho' we do\nnot find the beginning of it particularly recorded, yet we are certain\nit was not long after the Confusion of _Babel_; for _Nimrod_, as is\nsaid, was no more than _Noah_'s great Grandson and _Noah_ himself, I\nsuppose, might be alive some Years after _Nimrod_ was born; and as\n_Nimrod_ was not long dead, before they forgot that he was a Tyrant and\na Murtherer, and made a _Baal_, that is a Lord or Idol of him, I say, he\nwas not long dead, for _Nimrod_ was born in the Year of the World 1847,\nand built _Babylon_ the Year 1879; and we find _Terah_ the Father of\n_Abraham_, who liv'd from the Year 1879 was an Idolater, as was\ndoubtless _Bethuel_, who was _Terah_'s Grandson; for we find _Laban_,\nwho was _Bethuel_'s Son, was so, and all this was during the Life of the\nfirst Post-Diluvian Family, for _Terah_ was born within one hundred\nninety three Years after the Flood, and one hundred fifty seven Years\nbefore _Noah_ was dead; and even _Abram_ himself was eight and fifty\nYears old before _Noah_ died, and yet Idolatry had been then, in all\nprobability, above an hundred Years practised in the World.\n     N. B. It is worth Remark here, what a terrible Advantage the Devil\n        gain'd by the debauching poor _Noah_, and drawing him into the Sin\n        of Drunkenness; for by this, as I said, he silenc'd and stop'd the\n        Mouth of the great Preacher of Righteousness, that Father and\n        Patriarch of the whole World, who not being able for the Shame of\n        his own foul Miscarriage, to pretend to instruct or reprove the\n        World any more, the _Devil_ took hold of them immediately, and for\n        want of a Prophet to warn and admonish, ran that little of Religion\n        which there might be left in _Shem_ and _Japhet_, quite out of the\n        World, and delug'd them all in IDOLATRY.\nHow long the whole World may be said to be thus overwhelm'd in Ignorance\nand Idolatry, we may make some tolerable guess at by the History of\n_Abraham_; for it was not till God call'd him from his Father's House,\nthat any such Thing as a Church was establish'd in the World; nor even\nthen, except in his own Family and Successors for almost four hundred\nYears after that Call; and till God brought the _Israelites_ back out of\n_Egypt_, the whole World may be said to be involv'd in Idolatry and\n_Devil_ worship.\nSo absolute a Conquest had the _Devil_ made over Mankind immediately\nafter the Flood, and all taking its Rise and Beginning at the fatal\nDefeat of _Noah_, who had he liv'd untainted and invulnerable, as he had\ndone for six hundred Years before, would have gone a great way to have\nstem'd the Torrent of Wickedness which broke in upon Mankind; and\ntherefore the _Devil_, I say, was very cunning and very much in the\nRight of it, take him as he is a meer _Devil_, to attack _Noah_\npersonally, and give him a Blow so soon.\nIt is true, the _Devil_ did not immediately raze out the Notion of\nReligion and of a GOD from the Minds of Men, nor could he easily\nsuppress the Principle of Worship and Homage to be paid to a Sovereign\nBeing, the Author of Nature and Guide of the World; the _Devil_ saw this\nclearly in the first Ages of the new World, and therefore, as I have\nsaid, he proceeded politically and by Degrees: That it was so, is\nevident from the Story of _Job_ and his three Friends, who, if we may\ntake it for a History, not a Fable, and may judge of the Time of it by\nthe Length of _Job_'s Life, and by the Family of _Eliphaz_ the\n_Temanite_, who it is manifest was at least Grandson or Great Grandson\nto _Esau Isaac_'s eldest Son, and by the Language of _Abimilech_ King of\n_Gerar_ to _Abraham_, and of _Laban_ to _Jacob_, both the Latter being\nat the same Time Idolaters; I say, if we may judge of it by all these,\nthere were still very sound Notions of Religion in the Minds of Men; nor\ncould Satan with all his Cunning and Policy deface those _Ideas_, and\nroot them out of the Minds of the People.\nAnd this put him upon taking new Measures to keep up his Interest and\npreserve the Hold he got upon Mankind; and his Method was like himself,\nsubtle and politick to the last Degree, as his whole History makes\nappear; for seeing he found they could not but believe the Being of a\nGod, and that they would needs worship something, it is evident, he had\nno Game left him to play but this, namely, to set up wrong Notions of\nWorship, and bring them to a false Worship instead of a True, supposing\nthe Object worship'd to be still the same.\nTo finish this Stratagem, he first insinuates that the true God was a\nterrible, a dreadful, unapproachable Being; that to see him was so\nfrightful, that it would be present Death; that to worship him\nimmediately, was a Presumption which would provoke his Wrath; and that\nas he was a _consuming Fire_ in himself, so he would burn up those in\nhis Anger that dar'd to offer up any Sacrifice to him, but by the\nInterposition of some Medium which might receive their Adorations in his\nName.\nHence it occur'd presently, that subordinate Gods were to be found out\nand set up, to whom the People might pay the Homage due to the supreme\nGod, and who they might worship in his Name; this I take from the most\nancient Account of Idolatry in the World; nor indeed could the Devil\nhimself find out any other Reason why Men should Cannonise or rather\nDeify their Princes and Men of Fame, and worship them after they were\ndead, as if they could save them from Death and Calamity, who were not\nable to save themselves when they were alive; much less could _Satan_\nbring Men to swallow so gross, so absurd a Thing as the bowing the Knee\nto a Stock or a Stone, a Calf, an Ox, a Lion, nay the Image or Figure\nof a Calf, such as the _Israelites_ made at Mount _Sinai_, and say,\n_These be thy Gods, O_ Israel, _who brought thee out of the Land of_\nEgypt.\nHaving thus, I say, brought them to satisfy themselves that they\nworship'd the true God and no other, under the Figures and Appearances\nwhich they made to represent him, it was easy after that to worship any\nthing for the true God; and thus in a few Ages they worship'd nothing\nbut Idols, even throughout the whole World; nor has the _Devil_ lost\nthis hold in some Parts of the World, nay not in most Parts of the World\nto this Day; He holds still all the Eastern Parts of _Asia_, and the\nSouthern Parts of _Africa_, and the Northern Parts of _Europe_, and in\nthem the vast Countries of _China_ and _Tartary_, _Persia_ and _India_,\n_Guinea_, _Ethiopia_, _Zanquebar_, _Congo_, _Angola_, _Monomotapa_, &c.\nin all which, _except Ethiopia_, we find no Vestiges of any other\nworship but that of Idols, Monsters, and even the _Devil_ himself; till\nafter the very coming of our Saviour, and even then, if it be true that\nthe Gospel was preach'd in the _Indies_ and _China_ by St. _Thomas_, and\nin other remote Countries by other of the Apostles; we see that whatever\nGround _Satan_ lost, he seems to have recovered it again; and all _Asia_\nand _Africa_ is at present overrun with Paganism or Mahometanism, which\nI think of the two is rather the worst; Besides all _America_, a Part of\nthe World, as some say, equal in Bigness to all the other, in which the\n_Devil_'s Kingdom was never interrupted from its first being inhabited,\n_whenever it was_, to the first Discovery of it by the _European_\nNations in the sixteenth Century.\nIn a Word, the _Devil_ got what we may call an entire Victory over\nMankind, and drove the Worship of the true God, in a Manner quite out\nof the World, forcing, _as it were_, his Maker in a new kind of\nCreation, the old one proving thus ineffectual to recover a certain\nNumber by Force and meer Omnipotence to return to their Duty, serve him\nand worship him; _But of that hereafter_.\nCHAP. XI.\n_Of God's calling a Church out of the midst of a degenerate World, and of\n     Satan's new Measures upon that Incident: How he attack'd them\n     immediately, and his Success in those Attacks._\n_Satan_ having, as I have said in the preceding Chapter, made, as it\nwere, a full Conquest of Mankind, debauch'd them all to Idolatry, and\nbrought them at least to worshiping the true God by the wretched Medium\nof corrupt and idolatrous Representations; God seem'd to have no true\nServants or Worshippers left in the World, but if I may be allow'd to\nspeak so, was oblig'd, in order to restore the World to their Senses\nagain, to call a select Number out from among the rest, who he himself\nundertook should own his Godhead or supreme Authority, and worship him\nas he requir'd to be worship'd; this, _I say_, God was oblig'd to do,\nbecause 'tis evident it has not been done so much by the Choice and\nCouncil of Men, _for Satan would have over-rul'd that Part_, as by the\nPower and Energy of some irresistible and invincible Operation, and this\nour Divines give high Names to; but be it what they will, it is the\nsecond Defeat or Disappointment that the _Devil_ he met with in his\nProgress in the World; the first I have spoken of already.\nIt is true, Satan very well understood what was threatn'd to him in the\noriginal Promise to the Woman, immediately after the Fall, namely, _thou\nshalt bruise his Head_, &c. but he did not expect it so suddenly, but\nthought himself sure of Mankind, till the Fullness of Time when the\nMessiah should come; and therefore it was a great Surprize to him, to\nsee that _Abraham_ being call'd was so immediately receiv'd and\nestablish'd, tho' he did not so immediately follow the Voice that\ndirected him, yet in him, in his Loins was all God's Church at that time\ncontain'd.\nIn the calling _Abraham_, it is easy to see that there was no other way\nfor God to form a Church, that is to say, to single out a People to\nhimself, as the World was then stated, but by immediate Revelation and a\nVoice from Heaven: All Mankind were gone over to the Enemy, overwhelmed\nin Idolatry, in a Word, were engag'd to the _Devil_; God Almighty, or as\nthe Scripture distinguishes him, _the Lord_, the true GOD, was out of\nthe Question; Mankind knew little or nothing of him, much less did they\nknow any thing of his Worship, or that there was such a Being in the\nWorld.\nWell might it be said the _Lord_ appeared to _Abraham_, Gen. xii. 7. for\nif God had not appear'd himself, he must have sent a Messenger from\nHeaven, _and perhaps it was so too_, for he had not one true Servant or\nWorshiper that we know of then on Earth, to send on that Errand; no\nProphet, no Preacher of Righteousness, _Noah_ was dead, and had been so\nabove seventeen Year; and if he had not, his preaching, as I observed\nafter his great Miscarriage, had but little Effect; we are indeed told,\nthat _Noah_ left behind him certain Rules and Orders for the true\nWorship of God, which were call'd the Precepts of _Noah_, and remain'd\nin the World for a long Time; tho' how written, when neither any\nLetters, much less Writing were known in the World, is a Difficulty\nwhich Remains to be solv'd; and this makes me look upon those Laws\ncall'd the Precepts of _Noah_ to be a modern Invention, as I do also the\n_Alphabetum Noachi_, which _Bochart_ pretends to give an Account of.\nBut to leave that Fiction, and come back to _Abraham_; God call'd him,\nwhether at first by Voice without any Vision, whether in a Dream or\nNight Vision, which was very Significant in those Days, or whether by\nsome awful Appearance, we know not; the second Time, 'tis indeed said\nexpressly GOD appeared to him; Be it which Way it will, GOD himself\ncall'd him, shew'd him the Land of _Canaan_, gave him the Promise of it\nfor his Posterity, and withal gave him such a Faith, that the _Devil_\nsoon found there was no room for him to meddle with _Abraham_. This is\ncertain, we do not read that the _Devil_ ever so much as attempted\n_Abraham_ at all; some will suggest that the Command to _Abraham_ to go\nand offer up his Son _Isaac_, was a Temptation of the _Devil_, if\npossible to defeat the glorious Work of GOD's calling a holy Seed into\nthe World; for the _first_, if _Abraham_ had disobey'd that Call, the\nnew Favourite had been overcome and made a Rebel of, or _secondly_, if\nhe had _obey'd_, then the promis'd Seed had been cut off, and _Abraham_\ndefeated; but as the Text is express that GOD himself proposed it to\n_Abraham_, I shall not start the Suggestions of the Criticks, in Bar of\nthe sacred Oracle.\nBe it one way or other, _Abraham_ shew'd a Hero-like Faith and Courage,\nand if the _Devil_ had been the Author of it, he had seen himself\ndisappointed in both his Views; (1.) by _Abraham_'s ready and bold\nCompliance, as believing it to be GOD's Command; and (2.) by the divine\nCountermand of the Execution, just as the fatal Knife was lifted up.\nBut if the _Devil_ left _Abraham_, and made no attack upon him, seeing\nhim invulnerable, he made himself amends upon the other Branch of his\nFamily, his poor _Nephew_ LOT; who, notwithstanding he was so\nimmediately under the particular Care of Heaven, as that the Angel who\nwas sent to destroy _Sodom_, could do nothing till he was out of it; and\nwho, tho' after he had left _Zoar_, and was retir'd into a Cave to\ndwell, yet the subtle _Devil_ found him out, deluded his two Daughters,\ntook an Advantage of the Fright they had been in about _Sodom_ and\n_Gomorrah_, made them believe the whole World was burnt too, as well as\nthose Cities, and that in short, they could never have any _Husbands_,\n&c. and so in their abundant Concern to repeople the World, and that the\nRace of Mankind might not be destroyed, they go and lie with their own\n_Father_; the _Devil_ telling them doubtless how to do it, by\nintoxicating his Head with Wine; in all which Story, whether they were\nnot as drunk as their Father, seems to be a Question, or else they could\nnot have supposed all the Men in the Earth were consum'd, when they knew\nthat the little City _Zoar_ had been preserv'd for their Sakes.\nThis now was the third Conquest _Satan_ obtain'd by the Gust of humane\nAppetite; that is to say, once by Eating and twice by Drinking, or\nDrunkenness, and still the last was the worst and most shameful; for\n_Lot_, however his Daughters manag'd him, could not pretend he did not\nunderstand what the Strength of Wine was; and one would have thought\nafter so terrible a Judgment as that of _Sodom_ was, which was, as we\nmay say, executed before his Face, his Thoughts should have been too\nsolemnly engag'd in praising God for sparing his Life, to be made drunk,\nand that two Nights together.\nBut the _Devil_ play'd his Game sure, he set his two Daughters to work,\nand as the _Devil_'s Instruments seldom fail, so he secur'd his by that\nhellish Stratagem of deluding the Daughters, to think all the World was\nconsum'd but they two and their Father: To be sure the old Man could not\nsuspect that his Daughters Design was so wicked as indeed it was, or\nthat they intended to debauch him with Wine, and make him drink till he\nknew not what he did.\nNow the _Devil_ having carried his Game here, gain'd a great Point; for\nas there were but two religious Families in the World before, from\nwhence a twofold Generation might be supposed to rise religious and\nrighteous like their Parents, (_viz._) that of _Abraham_ and this of\n_Lot_; this Crime ruin'd the Hopes of one of them; it could no more be\nsaid that just _Lot_ was in Being, who vex'd his _righteous Soul_ from\nDay to Day with the wicked Behaviour of the People of _Sodom_; righteous\n_Lot_ was degenerated into drunken incestuous _Lot_, LOT fallen from\nwhat he was, to be a wicked and unrighteous Man; no pattern of Virtue,\nno Reprover of the Age, but a poor fallen Degenerate Patriarch, who\ncould now no more reprove or exhort, but look down and be asham'd, and\nnothing to do but to repent; and see the poor mean Excuses of all the\nthree.\n     Eve says, _The Serpent beguil'd me, and I did eat_.\n     Noah says, ---- _My Grandson beguil'd me, or the Wine beguil'd me,\n     and I did drink_.\n     Lot says, _My Daughters beguil'd me, and I also did drink_.\nIt is observable, that as I said above, _Noah_ was silenc'd, and his\nPreaching at an End, after that one Action, so the like may be said of\n_Lot_; and in short, you never hear one Word more of either of them\nafter it; as for Mankind, both were useless to them, and as to\nthemselves, we never read of any of their Repentance, nor have we much\nReason to believe they did repent.\nFrom this Attack of the _Devil_ upon _Lot_, we hear no more of the\n_Devil_ being so busily employ'd as he had been before in the World; he\nhad indeed but little to do, for all the rest of the World was his own,\nlull'd asleep under the Witchcraft of Idolatry, and are so still.\nBut it could not be long that the _Devil_ lay idle; as soon as God\ncall'd himself a People, the _Devil_ could not be at Rest; till he\nattack'd them.\n  'Wherever God sets up a House of Prayer,\n  'The Devil always builds a Chapel there.\n_Abraham_ indeed went off the Stage free, and so did _Isaac_ too, they\nwere a Kind of first Rate Saints; we do not so much as read of any\nfailing they had, or of any Thing the _Devil_ had ever the Face to offer\nto them; no, or with _Jacob_ either, if you will excuse him for\nbeguiling his Brother _Esau_, of both his Birthright and his Blessing,\nbut he was busy enough with all his Children; for Example,\n  He sent _Judah_ to his Sheep-shearing, and placed a Whore (_Tamar_)\n     in his Way, in the Posture of Temptation, so made him commit\n     Incest and Whoredom both together.\n  He sent incestuous _Reuben_ to lie with his Father's Concubine\n     _Billah_.\n  He sent _Dinah_ to the Ball, to dance with the _Sichemite_ Ladies,\n     and play the Whore with their Master.\n  He enrag'd _Simeon_ and _Levi_, at the supposed Injury, and then\n     prompted them to Revenge, for which their Father heartily cursed\n     them.\n  He set them all together to fall upon poor _Joseph_, first to\n     murther him intentionally, and then actually sell him to the\n     _Midianites_.\n  He made them shew the Party-colour'd Coat, and tell a lie to their\n     Father, to make the poor old Man believe _Joseph_ was kill'd by a\n  He sent _Potiphar_'s Wife to attack _Joseph_'s Chastity, and fill'd\n     her with Rage at the Disappointment.\n  He taught _Joseph_ to swear by the Life of _Pharoah_.\nIn a Word, he debauch'd the whole Race, except _Benjamin_, and never Man\nhad such a Set of Sons, so wicked and so notorious, after so good an\nIntroduction into the World as they all of them had, _to be sure_; for\n_Jacob_, no doubt, gave them as good Instruction as the Circumstances of\nhis wandring Condition would allow him to do.\nWe must now consider the _Devil_ and his Affairs in a quite differing\nSituation: When the World first appeared peopled by the creating Power\nof God, he had only _Adam_ and _Eve_ to take care of, and I think he\nply'd his Time with them to purpose enough: After the Deluge he had\n_Noah_ only to pitch upon, and he quickly conquer'd him by the\nInstigation of his _Grandson_.\nAt the Building of _Babel_ he guided them by their acting all in a Body\nas one Man; so that in short he manag'd them with ease, taking them as a\nBody politic; and we find they came into his Snare as one Man; but Now,\nthe Children of _Israel_ multiplying in the Land of their Bondage, and\nGod seeming to shew a particular Concern for them, the _Devil_ was\noblig'd to new Measures, stand at a Distance, and look on for some Time.\nThe _Egyptians_ were plagued even without his Help, nor tho' the cunning\nArtist, as I said, stood and looked on, yet he durst not meddle; nor\ncould he make a few Lice, the least and meanest of the Armies of Insects\nraised to afflict the _Egyptians_.\nHowever, when he perceiv'd that God resolved to bring the _Israelites_\nout, he prepar'd to attend them, to watch them, and be at Hand upon all\nthe wicked Occasions that might offer, as if he had been fully satisfied\nsuch Occasions would offer, and that he should not fail to have an\nOpportunity to draw them into some Snare or another, and that therefore\nit was his Business not to be out of the Way, but to be ready (as we\nsay) to make his Market of them in the best Manner he could: How many\nWays he attempted them, nay, how many Times he conquer'd them in their\nJourney, we shall see presently.\nFirst he put them in a fright at _Baal-Zephon_, where he thought he had\ndrawn them into a Noose, and where he sent _Pharoah_ and his Army to\nblock them up between the Mountains of _Piahiroth_ and the _Red Sea_;\nbut there indeed _Satan_ was outwitted by _Moses_, so far as it appeared\nto be a humane Action, for he little thought of their going dry footed\n_thro' the Sea_, but depended upon having them all cut in Pieces the\nnext Morning by the _Egyptians_; an eminent Proof, _by the Way_, that\nthe _Devil_ has _no Knowledge of Events_, or any Insight into Futurity;\nnay that he has not so much as a second Sight, or knows to Day what his\nMaker intends to do to Morrow; for had _Satan_ known that God intended\nto Ford them over the Sea, if he had not been able to have prevented the\nMiracle, he would certainly have prevented the Escape, by sending out\n_Pharoah_ and his Army time enough to have taken the Strand before them,\nand so have driven them to the Necessity of travelling on Foot round the\nNorth Point of that Sea, by the Wilderness of _Etan_, where he would\nhave pursu'd and harrass'd them with his Cavalry, and in all Probability\nhave destroy'd them: But the blind short-sighted Devil, perfectly in the\nDark, and unacquainted with Futurity, knew nothing of the Matter, was as\nmuch deceiv'd as _Pharoah_ himself, stood still flattering himself with\nthe Hopes of his Booty, and the Revenge he should take upon them the\nnext Morning; till he saw the frighted Waves in an Uproar, and to his\nutter Astonishment and Confusion saw the Passage laid open, and _Moses_\nleading his vast Army in full March over the dry Space; nay even then\n'tis very propable Satan did not know that if the _Egyptians_ follow'd\nthem, the Sea would return upon and overwhelm them; for I can hardly\nthink so hard of the _Devil_ himself, that if he had, he would have\nsuffer'd, much less prompted _Pharoah_ to follow the Chase at such an\nExpence; so that either he must be an ignorant unforeseeing Devil, or a\nvery ungrateful false _Devil_ to his Friends the _Egyptians_.\nI am enclin'd also to the more charitable Opinion of Satan too, because\nthe Escape of the _Israelites_ was really a Triumph over himself; for\nthe War was certainly his, or at least he was auxiliary to _Pharoah_,\nit was a Victory over _Hell_ and _Egypt_ together, and he would never\nhave suffer'd the Disgrace, if he had known it beforehand; that is to\nsay, tho' he could not have prevented the Escape of _Israel_, or the\ndividing the Water, yet he might have warn'd the _Egyptians_, and\ncautioned them not to venture in after them.\nBut we shall see a great many weak Steps taken by the Devil in the\nAffair of this very People and their forty Years Wandring in the\nWilderness; and tho' he was in some things successful, and wheedled them\ninto many foolish and miserable Murmurings and Wranglings against God,\nand Mutinies against poor _Moses_, yet the _Devil_ was oftentimes\nbaulk'd and disappointed; and 'tis for this Reason that I choose to\nfinish the first Part of his History with the particular Relation of his\nBehaviour among the _Jews_, because also, we do not find any\nextraordinary Things happening any where else in the World for above one\nthousand five hundred Years, no Variety, no Revolutions; all the Rest of\nMankind lay still under his Yoke, quietly submitted to his Government,\ndid just as he bad them, worship'd every Idol he set up, and in a Word,\nhe had no Difficulty with any Body but the _Jews_, and for this Reason,\nI say, this Part of his Story will be the more useful and instructing.\nTo return therefore to _Moses_ and his dividing the _Red Sea_; that the\nPeople went over or thro' it, that we have the sacred History for; but\nhow the Devil behav'd, that you must come to me for, or I know not where\nyou will find a true Account of it, at least not in Print.\n1. It was in the Night they march'd thro', whether the _Devil_ saw it in\nthe Dark or no, that's not my Business.\nBut when he had Day-Light for it, and view'd the next Day's Work, I make\nno Question but _all Hell felt the Surprise_, the Prey being thus\nsnatch'd out of their Hands unexpectedly. 'Tis true the _Egyptians_ Host\nwas sent to him in their Room, but that was not what he aim'd at; for he\nwas sure enough of them his own Way, and if it was not _just at that\nTime_, yet he knew what and who they were; but as he had devour'd the\nwhole _Israelitish_ Host in his Imagination, to the Tune of at least a\nMillion and a half of Souls; Men, Women and Children; it was, no doubt,\na great Disappointment to the Devil to miss of his Prey, and to see them\nall triumphing on the other Side in Safety.\nIt is true, _Satan_'s Annals do not mention this Defeat, for Historians\nare generally backward to register their own Misfortunes; but as we have\nan Account of the Fact from other Hands, so as we cannot question the\nTruth of it; the Nature of the Thing will tell us it was a\nDisappointment to the _Devil_, and a very great one too.\nI cannot but observe here, that I think this Part of the _Devil_'s Story\nvery entertaining, because of the great Variety of Incidents which\nappear in every Part of it; sometimes he is like a hunted Fox,\ncurvetting and counter-running to avoid his being pursued and found out,\nwhile at the same time he is carrying on his secret Designs to draw the\nPeople he pretends to manage, into some Snare or other to their Hurt; at\nanother time, tho' the Comparison is a little too low for his Dignity,\nlike a Monkey that has done Mischief, and who making his own Escape sits\nand chatters at a Distance, as if he had triump'd in what he had done;\nso Satan, when he had drawn them in to worship a Calf, to offer strange\nFire, to set up a Schism, and the like; and so to bring the Divine\nVengeance upon themselves, leaving them in their Distress, kept at a\nDistance, as if he look'd on with Satisfaction to see them Burnt,\nswallow'd up, swept away, and the like; as the several Stories relate.\nHis indefatigable Vigilance is, on the other hand, a useful Caveat, as\nwell as an improving View to us; no sooner is he routed and expos'd,\ndefeated and disappointed in one Enterprize, but he begins another, and,\nlike a cunning Gladiator, warily defends himself, and boldly attacks his\nEnemy at the same time. Thus we see him, up and down, conquering and\nconquered, thro' this whole Part of his Story, till at last he receives\na total Defeat; of which you shall hear in its place: In the mean time,\nlet us take up his Story again at the _Red Sea_, where he receiv'd a\ngreat Blow, instead of which he expected a compleat Victory; for\ndoubtless the Devil and the King of _\u00c6gypt_ too, thought of nothing but\nConquest at _Piahiroth_.\nHowever, tho' the Triumph of the _Israelites_ over the _Egyptians_ must\nneeds be a great Mortification to the _Devil_, and exasperated him very\nmuch, yet the Consequence was only this, _viz._ that _Satan_, like an\nEnemy who is baulk'd and defeated, but not overcome, redoubles his Rage,\nand reinforces his Army, and what the _Egyptians_ could not do for him,\nhe resolves to do for himself; in order then to take his Opportunity for\nwhat Mischief might offer, being defeated, and provok'd, I say, at the\nSlur that was put upon him, he resolves to follow them into the\nWilderness, and many a vile Prank he plaid them there; as first, he\nstraitens them for Water, and makes them murmur against GOD, and against\n_Moses_, within a very few Days, nay, Hours, of their great Deliverance\nof all.\nNor was this all, but in less than one Year more we find them, (at his\nInstigation too) setting up a _golden Calf_, and making all the People\ndance about it at Mount _Sinai_; even when God himself had but just\nbefore appear'd to them in the Terrors of a burning Fire upon the Top of\nthe Mountain; _and what was the Pretence?_ Truly, nothing but that they\nhad lost _Moses_, who used to be their Guide, and he had hid himself in\nthe Mount, and had not been seen in forty Days, so that they could not\ntell what was become of him. This put them all into Confusion; a poor\nPretence indeed, to turn them all back to Idolatry! but the _watchful\nDevil_ took the Hint, push'd the Advantage, and insinuated that they\nshould never see _Moses_ again, that he was certainly devour'd by\nventuring too near the Flashes of Fire in the Mount, and presuming upon\nthe Liberty he had taken before; in a word, that God had destroyed\n_Moses_, or he was starved to Death for want of Food, having been forty\nDays and forty Nights absent.\nAll these were, it's true, in themselves most foolish Suggestions,\nconsidering _Moses_ was admitted to the Vision of God, and that God had\nbeen pleased to appear to him in the most intimate manner; that as they\nmight depend God would not destroy his faithful Servant, so they might\nhave concluded he was able to support his Being without Food as long as\nhe thought fit; but to a People so easy to believe any thing, what could\nbe too gross for the _Devil_ to persuade them to?\nA People who could dance round a Calf, and call it their God, might do\nany thing; that could say to one another, that this was the Great\nJEHOVAH, _that brought them out of the Land of Egypt_; and that within\nso few Days after God's miraculous Appearance to them, and for them; I\nsay, such a People were really fitted to be imposed upon, nothing could\nbe too gross for them.\nThis was indeed his first considerable Experiment upon them as _a\nPeople_, or as _a Body_; and the Truth is, his Affairs requir'd it, for\n_Satan_, who had been a Successful Devil in most of his Attempts upon\nMankind, could hardly doubt of Success in any thing after he had carried\nhis Point at Mount _Sinai_: To bring them to Idolatry in the very Face\nof their Deliverer, and just after their Deliverance! It was more\nastonishing in the main than even their passing _the Red Sea_: In a\nWord, the _Devil_'s whole History does not furnish us with a Story\nequally surprising.\nAnd how was poor _Aaron_ bewilder'd in it too? He that was _Moses_'s\nPartner in all the great Things that _Moses_ did in _Pharaoh_'s Sight,\nand that was appointed to be his Assistant and Oracle, _or Orator\nrather_, upon all public Occasions; that he, above all the rest, should\ncome into this absurd and ridiculous Proposal, he that was singled out\nfor the sacred Priesthood, for him to defile his holy Hands with a\npolluted abominable Sacrifice, and with making the Idol for them too,\n(for 'tis plain that he made it,) how monstrous it was!\nAnd see what an Answer he gives to his Brother _Moses_, how weak! how\nsimple! _I did so and so, indeed_, I bad them bring the Ear-rings, _&c._\nand I cast the Gold into the Fire, and _it came out this Calf_.\nRidiculous! as if the Calf came out by meer fortuitous Adventure,\nwithout a Mould to cast it in; which could not be supposed: And if it\nhad not come out so without a Mould, _Moses_ would certainly have known\nof it; had _Aaron_ been innocent, he would have answered after quite\nanother manner, and told _Moses_ honestly that the whole Body of the\nPeople came to him in a Fright, that they forced him to make them an\nIdol; which he did, by making first a proper Mould to cast it in, and\nthen taking the proper Metal to cast it from: That indeed he had sinn'd\nin so doing, but that he was mobb'd into it, and the People terrified\nhim, perhaps they threatned to kill him; and if he had added, that the\n_Devil_ prompting his Fear beguil'd him, he had said nothing but what\nwas certainly true; for if it was in Satan's Power to make the People\ninsolent and outrageous enough to threaten and bully the old venerable\nProphet (_for he was not yet a Priest_) who was the Brother of their\nOracle _Moses_, and had been Partner with him in so many of his\nCommissions; I say, if he cou'd bring up the Passions of the People to a\nHeight to be rude and unmannerly to him (_Aaron_) and perhaps to\nthreaten and insult him, he may be easily suppos'd to be able to\nintimidate _Aaron_, and terrify him into a Compliance.\nSee this cunning Agent, when he has Man's Destruction in his View, how\nsecurely he acts! he never wants a handle; the best of Men have one weak\nplace or other, and he always finds it out, takes the Advantage of it,\nand conquers them by one Artifice or another; only take it with you as\nyou go, 'tis always _by Stratagem_, never _by Force_; a Proof that he is\nnot empower'd to use Violence: He may tempt, and he does prevail; but\n'tis all _Legerdemain_, 'tis all Craft and Artifice, he is still Diabol\u00e8,\nthe _Calumniator_ and Deceiver, that is, the Misrepresenter; he\nmisrepresents _Man_ to GOD, and misrepresents GOD to _Man_, also he\nmisrepresents Things; he puts false Colours, and then manages the Eye to\nsee them with an imperfect View, raising Clouds and Fogs to intercept\nour Sight; in short, he deceives all our Senses, and imposes upon us in\nThings which otherwise would be the easiest to discern and judge of.\nThis indeed is in part the Benefit of the _Devil_'s History, to let us\nsee that he has used the same Method all along; and that ever since he\nhas had any thing to do with Mankind, he has practis'd upon them with\nStratagem and Cunning; also 'tis observable that he has carried his\nPoint better that way than he would have done by Fury and Violence, if\nhe had been allowed to make use of it; for by his Power indeed he might\nhave laid the World desolate, and made a Heap of Rubbish of it long ago;\nbut, as I have observed before, that would not have answered his Ends\nhalf so well, for by destroying Men he would have made Martyrs, and sent\nabundance of good Men to Heaven, who would much rather have died, than\nyielded to serve him, and, as he aimed to have it, to fall down and\nworship him; I say, he would have made Martyrs, and that not a few: But\nthis was none of _Satan_'s Business; his Design lies quite another Way;\nhis Business is to make Men _sin_, not to make them _suffer_; to make\n_Devils_ of them, not _Saints_; to delude them, and draw them away from\ntheir Maker, not send them away to him; and therefore he works by\nStratagem, not by Force.\nWe are now come to his Story, as it relates to the _Jewish_ Church in\nthe Wilderness, and to the Children of _Israel_ in their travelling\nCircumstances; and this was the first Scene of publick Management that\nthe Devil had upon his Hands in the World; for, as I have said, _till\nnow_, he dealt with Mankind either in their separate Condition, one by\none, or else carried all before him, engrossing whole Nations in his\nSystems of Idolatry, and overwhelming them in an ignorant Destruction.\nBut having now a whole People as it were snatch'd away from him, taken\nout of his Government, and, which was still worse, having a View of a\nKingdom being set up independent of him, and superior to his Authority,\nit is not to be wondred at if he endeavour'd to overthrow them in the\nInfancy of their Constitution, and tried all possible Arts to bring them\nback into his own Hands again.\nHe found them not only carried away from the Country where they were\neven in his Clutches, surrounded with Idols, and where we have Reason to\nbelieve the greatest part of them were polluted with the Idolatry of the\n_Egyptians_; for we do not read of any stated Worship which they had of\ntheir own, or if they did worship the true God, we scarce know in what\nmanner they did it; they had no Law given them, nothing but the Covenant\nof Circumcision, and even _Moses_ himself had not strictly observ'd\nthat, till he was frighted into it; we read of no Sacrifices among them,\nno Feasts were ordain'd, no solemn Worship appointed, and how, or in\nwhat manner they perform'd their Homage, we know not; the Passover was\nnot ordain'd till just at their coming away; so that there was not much\nReligion among them, at least that we have any Account of; and we may\nsuppose the _Devil_ was pretty easy with them all the while they were in\nthe House of their Bondage.\nBut now, to have a Million of People fetch'd out of his Hands, as it\nwere all at once, and to have the immediate Power of Heaven engaged in\nit, and that _Satan_ saw evidently God had singled them out in a\nmiraculous manner to favour them, and call them _his own_; this allarm'd\nhim at once, and therefore he resolves to follow them, lay close Siege\nto them, and take all the Measures possible to bring them to rebel\nagainst, and disobey GOD, that he might be provok'd to destroy them; and\nhow near he went to bring it to pass, we shall see presently.\nThis making a Calf, and paying an idolatrous Worship to it (for they\nacted the Heathens and Idolaters, not in the setting up the Calf only,\nbut in the manner of their Worshiping, _viz._ _Dancing_ and _Musick_,\nThings they had not been acquainted with in the Worship of the true God)\nI mention here, to observe how the Devil not only imposed upon their\nPrinciples, but upon their Senses too; as if the awful Majesty of\nHeaven, whose Glory they had seen in Mount _Sinai_, where they stood,\nand whose Pillar of Cloud and Fire was their Guide and Protection, would\nbe worship'd by dancing round a Calf! and that not a living Creature, or\na real Calf, but the mere Image of a _Calf_ cast in Gold, or, as some\nthink, in Brass gilded over.\nBut this was the _Devil_'s Way with Mankind, namely, to impose upon\ntheir Senses, and bring them into the grossest Follies and Absurdities;\nand then, having first made them Fools, it was much the easier to make\nthem Offenders.\nIn this very manner he acted with them thro' all the Course of their\nWilderness Travels; for as they were led by the Hand like Children,\ndefended by Omnipotence, fed by Miracles, instructed immediately from\nHeaven, and in all things had _Moses_ for their Guide; they had no room\nto miscarry, but by acting the greatest Absurdities, and committing the\ngreatest Follies in Nature; and even these, the _Devil_ brought them to\nbe guilty of, in a surprising manner: 1. As GOD himself reliev'd them in\nevery Exigence, and supply'd them in every Want, one would think 'twas\nimpossible they should be ever brought to question either his\nWillingness or his Ability, and yet they really objected against both;\nwhich was indeed very provoking, and I doubt not, that when the _Devil_\nhad brought them to act in such a preposterous Manner, he really hoped\nand believed God would be provok'd effectually: The Testimonies of his\nCare of them, and Ability to supply them, were miraculous and\nundeniable; he gave them Water from the Rock, Bread from the Air, sent\nthe Fowls to feed them with Flesh, and supported them all the Way by\nMiracles; their Health was preserv'd, none were sick among them, their\nclothes did not wear out, nor their Shoes grow old upon their Feet;\ncould any thing be more absurd, than to doubt whether he could provide\nfor them who had never let them want for so many Years?\nBut the _Devil_ managed them in spight of Miracles; nor did he ever give\nthem over till he had brought six hundred thousand of them to provoke\nGod so highly that he would not suffer above two of them to go into the\nLand of Promise; so that in short, Satan gained his Point as to that\nGeneration, for all their Carcasses fell in the Wilderness. Let us take\nbut a short View to what a Height he brought 'em, and in what a rude,\nabsurd Manner they acted; how he set them upon murmuring upon every\nOccasion, now for Water, then for Bread; nay, they murmured _at their\nBread_ when they had it; _Our Soul loaths this light Bread._\nHe sow'd the Seeds of Church-Rebellion in the Sons of _Aaron_, and made\n_Nadab_ and _Abihu_ offer strange Fire till they were strangely consumed\nby Fire for the doing it.\nHe set them a complaining at _Taberah_, and a lusting for Flesh at the\nfirst three Days Journey from Mount _Sinai_.\nHe planted Envy in the Hearts of _Miriam_ and _Aaron_, against the\nAuthority of _Moses_, to pretend GOD had spoke by them as well as by\nhim, till he humbled the Father, and made a Leper of the Daughter.\nHe debauch'd ten of the Spies, frighted them with sham Appearances of\nThings, when they went out to search the Land; and made them fright the\nwhole People out of their Understanding as well as Duty, for which six\nhundred thousand of their Carcasses fell in the Wilderness.\nHe rais'd the Rebellion of _Korah_, and the two hundred and fifty\nPrinces, till he brought them to be swallowed up alive.\nHe put _Moses_ into a Passion at _Meribah_, and ruffled the Temper of\nthe meekest Man upon Earth, by which he made both him and _Aaron_\nforfeit their Share of the Promise, and be shut out from the _Holy\nLand_.\nHe rais'd a Mutiny among them when they travelled from Mount _Hor_, till\nthey brought fiery Serpents among them to destroy them.\nHe tried to make _Baalim_ the Prophet curse them, but there the _Devil_\nwas disappointed: However, he brought the _Midianites_ to debauch them\nwith Women, as in the Case of _Zimri_ and _Cosbi_.\nHe tempted _Achan_ with the Wedge of Gold, and the _Babylonish_ Garment,\nthat he might take of the accursed thing, and be destroy'd.\nHe tempted the whole People, not effectually to drive out the cursed\nInhabitants of the Land of Promise, that they might remain, and be Goads\nin their Sides, till at last they often oppress'd them for their\nIdolatry; and, which was worse, debauched them to Idolatry.\nHe prompted the _Benjamites_ to refuse Satisfaction to the People, in\nthe Case of the Wickedness of the Men of _Gibeah_, to the Destruction of\nthe whole Tribe, four hundred Men excepted in the Rock _Rimmon_.\nAt last he tempted them to reject the Theocracy of their Maker, and call\nupon _Samuel_ to make them a King; and most of those Kings he made\nPlagues and Sorrows to them in their time, as you shall hear in their\nOrder.\nThus he plagued the whole Body of the People continually, making them\nsin against God, and bring Judgments upon themselves, to the consuming\nsome Millions of them, first and last, by the Vengeance of their Maker.\nAs he did with the whole Congregation, so he did with their Rulers, and\nseveral of the Judges, who were made Instruments to deliver the People,\nyet were drawn into snares by this _subtil Serpent_, to ruin themselves\nor the People they had delivered.\nHe tempted _Gideon_ to make an _Ephod_, contrary to the Law of the\nTabernacle, and made the Children of _Israel_ go a whoring (that is, a\nworshiping) after it.\nHe tempted _Sampson_ to debauch himself with a Harlot, and betray his\nown happy Secret to a Whore, at the Expence of both his Eyes, and at\nlast of his Life.\nHe tempted _Eli_'s Sons to lie with the Women, in the very Doors of the\nTabernacle, when they came to bring their Offerings to the Priest; and\nhe tempted poor _Eli_ to connive at them, or not sufficiently reprove\nthem.\nHe tempted the People to carry the Ark of God into the Camp, that it\nmight fall into the Hands of the _Philistines_. And\nHe tempted _Uzzi_ to reach out his Hand to hold it up; as if he that had\npreserved it in the House of _Dagon_ the Idol of the _Philistines_,\ncould not keep it from falling out of the Cart.\nWhen the People had gotten a King, he immediately set to work in diverse\nWays to bring that King to load them with Plagues and Calamities not a\nfew.\nHe tempted _Saul_ to spare the King of _Amaliek_, contrary to God's\nexpress Command.\nHe not tempted _Saul_ only, but possessed him with an evil Spirit, by\nwhich he was left to wayward Dispositions, and was forced to have it\nfiddl'd out of him with a Minstrel.\nHe tempted _Saul_ with a Spirit of Discontent, and with a Spirit of Envy\nat poor _David_, to hunt him like a Partridge upon the Mountains.\nHe tempted _Saul_ with a Spirit of Divination, and sent him to a Witch\nto enquire of _Samuel_ for him; as if God would help him when he was\ndead, that had forsaken him when he was alive.\nAfter that, he tempted him to kill himself, on a Pretence that he might\nnot fall into the Hands of the Uncircumcised; as if _Self-Murther_ was\nnot half so bad, either for Sin against God, or Disgrace among Men, as\nbeing taken Prisoner by _a Philistine_! A Piece of Madness none but the\n_Devil_ could have brought Mankind to submit to, tho' some Ages after\nthat, he made it a Fashion among the _Romans_.\nAfter _Saul_ was dead, and _David_ came to the Throne, by how much he\nwas a Man chosen and particularly savoured by Heaven, the _Devil_ fell\nupon him with the more Vigour, attack'd him so many Ways, and conquer'd\nhim so very often, that as no Man was so good a King, so hardly any good\nKing was ever a worse Man; in many Cases one would have almost thought\nthe _Devil_ had made Sport with _David_, to shew how easily he could\noverthrow the best Man _God_ could choose of the whole Congregation.\nHe made him distrust his Benefactor so much as to feign himself mad\nbefore the King of _Gath_, when he had fled to him for Shelter.\nHe made him march with his four hundred Cut-throats, to cut off poor\n_Nabal_, and all his Houshold, only because he would not send him the\ngood Chear he had provided for his honest Sheep-shearers.\nHe made him, for his Word's sake, give _Ziba_ half his Master's Estate\nfor his Treachery, after he knew he had been the Traitor, and betray'd\npoor _Mephibosheth_ for the sake of it; in which\n  'The good old King, it seems, was very loth\n  'To break his Word, and therefore broke his Oath.\nThen he tempted him to the ridiculous Project of numbring the People,\ntho' against God's express Command; a Thing _Joab_ himself was not\nwicked enough to do, till _David_ and the _Devil_ forc'd him to it.\nAnd to make him compleatly wicked, he carried him to the Top of his\nHouse, and shew'd him a naked Lady bathing her self in her Garden, in\nwhich it appear'd that the _Devil_ knew _David_ too well, and what was\nthe particular Sin of his Inclination; and so took him by the Right\nHandle; drawing him at once into the Sins of _Murther_ and _Adultery_.\nThen, that he might not quite give him over, (tho' _David_'s Repentance\nfor the last Sin kept the _Devil_ off for a while) when he could attack\nhim no farther personally he fell upon him in his Family, and made him\nas miserable as he could desire him to be, in his Children, three of\nwhom he brought to Destruction before his Face, and another after his\nDeath.\nFirst, he tempted _Ammon_ to ravish his Sister _Tamar_; so, there was an\nEnd of her (_poor Girl!_) as to this World, for we never hear any more\nof her.\nThen he tempted _Absalom_ to murther his Brother _Amnon_, in Revenge for\n_Tamar_'s Maidenhead.\nThen he made _Joab_ run _Absalom_ thro' the Body, contrary to _David_'s\nCommand.\nAnd after _David_'s Death he brought _Adonija_ (weak Man!) to the Block,\nfor usurping King _Solomon_'s Throne.\nAs to _Absalom_, he tempted him to Rebellion, and raising War against\nhis Father, to the turning him shamefully out of _Jerusalem_, and almost\nout of the Kingdom.\nHe tempted him, for _David_'s farther Mortification, to lie with his\nFather's Wives, in the Face of the whole City; and had _Achitophel_'s\nhonest Council been follow'd, he had certainly sent him to Sleep with\nhis Fathers, long before his time--But there _Satan_ and _Achitophel_\nwere both out-witted together.\nThro' all the Reigns of the several Successors of _David_, the _Devil_\ntook care to carry on his own Game, to the continual insulting the\nMeasures which God himself had taken for the establishing his People in\nthe World, and especially as a Church; till at last he so effectually\ndebauch'd them to Idolatry; that Crime which of all others was most\nprovoking to GOD, as it was carrying the People away from their\nAllegiance, and transposing the Homage they ow'd God their Maker, to a\ncontemptible Block of Wood, or an Image of a brute Beast; and this how\nsordid and brutish soever it was in it self, yet so did his Artifice\nprevail among them, that, first or last, he brought them all into it,\nthe ten Tribes as well as the two Tribes; till at last God himself was\nprovoked to unchurch them, gave them up to their Enemies, and the few\nthat were left of them, after incredible Slaughters and Desolation,\nwere hurried away, some into _Tartary_, and others into _Babylon_, from\nwhence very few, of that few that were carried away, ever found their\nWay Home again; and some, when they might have come, would not accept of\nit, but continued there to the very coming of the Messiah. See Epistles\nof St. _James_ and of St. _Peter_, at the Beginning.\nBut to look a little back upon this Part (for it cannot be omitted, it\nmakes so considerable a Part of the _Devil_'s History) I mean his\ndrawing God's People, Kings and all, into all the Sins and Mischiefs\nwhich gradually contributed to their Destruction.\nFirst, (_for he began immediately with the very best and wisest of the\nRace_) he drew in King _Solomon_, in the midst of all his Zeal for the\nbuilding God's House, and for the making the most glorious and\nmagnificent Appearance for God's Worship that ever the World saw; I say,\nin the middle of all this, he drew him into such immoderate and\ninsatiable an Appetite for Women, as to set up the first, and perhaps\nthe greatest _Seraglio_ of Whores that ever any Prince in the World had,\nor pretended to before; nay, and to bring whoring so much into\nReputation, that, as the Text says, seven hundred of them were\nPrincesses; that is to say, Ladies of Quality: Not as the Grand\nSeigniors, and Great Moguls, (other Princes of the Eastern World) have\nsince practised, namely, to pick up their most beautiful Slaves; but\nthese, it seems, were Women of Rank, King's Daughters, as _Pharaoh_'s\nDaughter, and the Daughters of the Princes and prime Men among the\n_Moabites_, _Ammonites_, _Zidonians_, _Hittites_, &c. 1 _Kings_ xi. 1.\nNor was this all; but as he drew him into the Love of these forbidden\nWomen (_for such they were, as to their Nation, as well as Number_) so\nhe ensnar'd him by those Women to a Familiarity with their Worship; and\nby degrees brought that famous Prince (famous for his Wisdom) to be the\ngreatest and most-impos'd-upon old Fool in the World; Bowing down to\nthose Idols by the Inticing of his Whores, whom he had abhorr'd and\ndetested in his Youth, as dishonouring that God for whom, and for whose\nWorship he had finish'd and dedicated the most magnificent Building and\nTemple in the World: Nothing but the invincible Subtlety of this _Arch\nDevil_ could ever have brought such a Man as _Solomon_ to such a\nDegeneracy of Manners, and to such Meannesses; no, not the _Devil_\nhimself, without the Assistance of his Whores, nor the Whores\nthemselves, without the _Devil_ to help them.\nAs to _Solomon_, _Satan_ had made Conquest enough there, we need hear no\nmore of him; the next Advance he made, was in the Person of his Son\n_Rehoboam_; had not the _Devil_ prompted his Pride and tyrannical\nHumour, he would never have given the People such an Answer as he did;\nand when he saw a Fellow at the Head of them too whom he knew wanted and\nwaited for an Occasion to raise a Rebellion, and had ripened up the\nPeople's Humour to the Occasion: Well might the Text call it _listening\nto the Council of the young Heads_; that it was indeed with a Vengeance!\nbut those young Heads too were acted by an old _Devil_, who for his\nCraft is called, as I have observ'd, the _Old Serpent_.\nHaving thus pav'd the Way, _Jeroboam_ revolts. So far God had directed\nhim; for the Text says expressly, speaking in the first Person of GOD\nhimself, _This Thing is of Me_.\nBut tho' God might appoint _Jeroboam_ to be King, (that is to say, of\nten Tribes,) yet GOD did not appoint him to set up the _two Calves_ in\nthe two extreme Parts of the Land, _viz._ in _Dan_, and in _Bethel_;\nthat was _Jeroboam_'s own doing, and done on purpose to keep the People\nfrom falling back to _Rehoboam_, by being obliged to go to _Jerusalem_\nto the publick Worship: And the Text adds, _Jeroboam made Israel to\nsin_. This was indeed a Master-piece of the _Devil_'s Policy, and it was\neffectual to answer the End, nothing could have been more to the\nPurpose; what Reason he had to expect the People would so universally\ncome into it, and be so well satisfied with a couple of Calves, instead\nof the true Worship of GOD at _Jerusalem_; or what Arts and Management\nhe (_Satan_) made use of afterwards, to bring the People in, to join\nwith such a Delusion, that we find but little of in all the Annals of\n_Satan_; not is it much to the Case: 'Tis certain the _Devil_ found a\nstrange kind of Propensity to worshiping Idols rooted in the Temper of\nthat whole People, even from their first breaking away from the\n_Egyptian_ Bondage; so that he had nothing to do but to work upon the\nold Stock, and propagate the Crime that he found was so natural to them.\nAnd this is _Satan_'s general Way of working, not with them only, but\nwith us also, and with all the World, even then, and ever since.\nWhen he had thus secur'd _Jeroboam_'s Revolt, we need not trace him\namong his Successors; for the same Reason of State that held for the\nsetting up the Calves at _Bethel_ and _Dan_, held good for the keeping\nthem up, to all _Jeroboam_'s Posterity; nor had they one good King ever\nafter; even _Jehu_, who call'd his Friends to come and see his _Zeal for\nthe Lord_, and who fulfill'd the Threatnings of God upon _Ahab_ and his\nFamily, and upon Queen _Jezabel_ and her Offspring, and knew all the\nwhile that he was executing the Judgment of the true God upon an\nidolatrous Race; yet he would not part with his Calves, but would have\nthought it to have been parting with his Kingdom, and that as the People\nwould have gone up to _Jerusalem_ to worship, so they would at the same\nTime have transfer'd their civil Obedience to the King of _Judah_,\n(whose Right it really was, as far as they could claim by Birth and\nright Line); so that by the way, _Satan_ any more than other\nPoliticians, is not for the _jus divinum_ of lineal Succession, or what\nwe call hereditary Right, any farther than serves for his Purpose.\nThus Satan ridded his Hands of ten of the twelve Tribes; let us now see\nhow he went on with the rest, for his Work was now brought into a\nnarrower Compass; the Church of God was now reduc'd to two Tribes,\nexcept a few religious People, who separated from the Schism of\n_Jeroboam_, and came and planted themselves among the Tribes of _Judah_\nand _Benjamin_: The first thing the Devil did after this, was to foment\na War between the two Kings, while _Judah_ was governed by a Boy or\nYouth, _Abija_ by Name, and he none of the best neither; but God's Time\nwas not come, and the Devil receiv'd a great Disappointment; when\n_Jeroboam_ was so entirely overthrown; that if the Records of those Ages\ndo not mistake, no less than 500000 Men of _Israel_ were kill'd, such a\nSlaughter, that one would think the Army of _Judah_, had they known how\nto improve as well as gain a Victory, might have brought all the rest\nback again, and have intirely reduc'd the House of _Jeroboam_ and the\nten Tribes that follow'd him to their Obedience; nay they did take a\ngreat deal of the Country from them, and among the rest _Bethel_ it\nself; and yet so cunningly did _Satan_ manage, that the King of _Judah_,\nwho was himself a wicked King, and perhaps an Idolater in his Heart, did\nnot take down the golden Calf that _Jeroboam_ had there, no nor destroy\nthe Idolatry it self, so that in short, his Victory signified nothing.\nFrom hence to the Captivity, we find the _Devil_ busy with the Kings of\n_Judah_, especially the best of them; as for such as _Manasseth_, and\nthose who transgress'd by the general Tenor of their Lives, those he had\nno great trouble with.\nBut such as _Asa_, _Jehoshaphat_, _Hezekiah_, and _Josiah_, he hung\nabout them and their Courts, till he brought every one of them into some\nMischief or another.\nAs first, good King _Asa_, of whom the Scripture says, his Heart was\nperfect all his Days, yet this subtle Spirit, that could break in upon\nhim no where else, tempted him when the King of _Israel_ came out\nagainst him, to send to hire _Benhadad_ the King of _Syria_ to help him;\nas if GOD who had before enabled him to conquer the _Ethiopians_, with\nan Army of ten hundred thousand Men, could not have saved him from the\nKing of the ten Tribes.\nIn the same manner he tempted _Jehoshaphat_ to join with that wicked\nKing _Ahab_ against the King of _Syria_, and also to marry his Son to\n_Ahab_'s Daughter, which was fatal to _Jehoshaphat_, and to his\nPosterity.\n_Again_, He tempted _Hezekiah_ to shew all his Riches to the King of\n_Babylon_'s Messengers; and who can doubt, but that he (_Satan_) is to\nbe understood by the wicked Spirit which stood before the Lord, 2\n_Chron._ xviii. 20. and offered his Service to entice _Ahab_ the King of\n_Israel_ to come out to Battle to his Ruin, by being a lying Spirit in\nthe Mouths of all his Prophets; and who for that Time had a special\nCommission, as he had another Time in the Case of _Job_? and indeed it\nwas a Commission fit for no body but the _Devil_: _Thou shalt entice_\nhim, _and thou shalt_ also _prevail: Go out and do_ even _so_, ver. 21.\nEven good _Josiah_ himself, of whom it is recorded, that _like him there\nwas no King before him_, _neither after him arose there any like him_, 2\nKings xxiii. 26. yet the _Devil_ never left him with his Machinations,\ntill finding he could not tempt him to any Thing wicked in his\nGovernment, he tempted or mov'd him to a needless War with the King of\n_Egypt_, in which he lost his Life.\nFrom the Death of this good King, the _Devil_ prevail'd so with the\nwhole Nation of the _Jews_, and brought them to such an incorrigible\nPitch of Wickedness, that _God_ gave them up, forsook his Habitation of\nGlory, the Temple, which he suffer'd to be spoil'd first, then burnt and\ndemolish'd; destroying the whole Nation of the _Jews_, except a small\nNumber that were left, and those the Enemy carried away into Captivity.\nNor was he satisfied with this general Destruction of the whole People\nof _Israel_, for the ten Tribes were gone before; but he follow'd them\neven into their Captivity; those that fled away to _Egypt_, which they\ntell us were seventy thousand, he first corrupted, and then they were\ndestroyed there upon the Overthrow of _Egypt_, by the same King of\n_Babylon_.\nAlso he went very near to have them rooted out, young and old, Man,\nWoman and Child, who were in Captivity in _Babylon_, by the Ministry of\nthat true Agent of Hell, _Haman_ the _Agagite_; but there _Satan_ met\nwith a Disappointment too, as in the Story of _Hester_, which was but\nthe fourth that he had met with, in all his Management since the\nCreation; I say, there he was disappointed, and his prime Minister\n_Haman_ was exalted, as he deserv'd.\nHaving thus far traced the Government and Dominion of the _Devil_, from\nthe Creation of Man to the Captivity; I think I may call upon him to set\nup his Standard of universal Empire, at that Period; it seem'd just then\nas if God had really forsaken the Earth, and given the entire Dominion\nof Mankind up to his outrageous Enemy the _Devil_; for excepting the few\n_Israelites_ which were left in the Territories of the King of\n_Babylon_, and they were but a few; I say, except among them, there was\nnot one Corner of the World left where the true God was call'd upon, or\nhis Dominion so much as acknowledg'd; all the World was buried in\nIdolatry, and that of so many horrid Kinds, that one would think, the\nLight of Reason should have convinc'd Mankind, that he who exacted such\nbloody Sacrifices as that of _Moloch_, and such a bloody cutting\nthemselves with Knives, as the Priests of _Baal_ did, could not be a\nGOD, a good and beneficent Being, but must be a cruel, voracious and\ndevouring Devil, whose End was not the Good, but the Destruction of his\nCreatures: But to such a Height was the blind demented World arriv'd to\nat that Time, that in these sordid and corrupt Ways, they went on\nworshiping dumb Idols, and offering human Sacrifices to them, and in a\nWord, committing all the most horrid and absurd Abominations that they\nwere capable of, or that the _Devil_ could prompt them to, till Heaven\nwas again put, as it were, to the Necessity of bringing about a\nRevolution, in favour of his own forsaken People, by Miracle and\nSurprize, as he had done before.\nWe come therefore to the Restoration or Return of the Captivity: Had\n_Satan_ been able to have acted any thing by Force, _as I have observ'd\nbefore_, all the Princes and Powers of the World, having been, as they\nreally were, at his Devotion, he might easily have made use of them,\narm'd all the World against the _Jews_, and prevented the Rebuilding the\nTemple, and even the Return of the Captivity.\nBut now the _Devil_'s Power manifestly received a Check, and the Hand of\nGod appear'd in it, and that he was resolv'd to reestablish his People\nthe _Jews_, and to have a second Temple built: the _Devil_, who knew the\nExtent of his own Power too well, and what Limitations were laid upon\nhim, stood still as it were looking on, and not daring to oppose the\nReturn of the Captivity, which he very well knew had been prophesied,\nand would come to pass.\nHe did indeed make some little Opposition to the Building, and to the\nfortifying the City, but as it was to no Purpose, so he was soon oblig'd\nto give it over; and thus the Captivity being return'd, and the Temple\nrebuilt, the People of the _Jews_ encreased and multiplied to an infinite\nNumber and Strength; and from this Time we may say, the Power of the\n_Devil_ rather declin'd and decreas'd, than went on with Success, as it\nhad done before; It is true the _Jews_ fell into Sects and Errors, and\nDivisions of many Kinds, after the Return from the Captivity, and no\ndoubt the _Devil_ had a great Hand in those Divisions; but he could\nnever bring them back to Idolatry, and his not being able to do that,\nmade him turn his Hand so many Ways to plague and oppress them; as\nparticularly by _Antiochus_ the Great, who brought the Abomination of\nDesolation into the holy Place; and there the Devil triumph'd over them\nfor some Time; but they were deliver'd many Ways, till at last they came\npeaceably under the Protection rather than the Dominion of the _Roman_\nEmpire: When _Herod_ the Great govern'd them as a King, and reedified,\nnay almost rebuilt their Temple, with so great an Expence and\nMagnificence, that he made it, as some say, greater and more glorious\nthan that of _Solomon_'s, tho' that I take to be a great ---- Fable, to\nsay no worse of it.\nIn this Condition the _Jewish_ Church stood, when the Fullness of Time,\nas 'tis call'd in Scripture, was come; and the _Devil_ was kept at Bay,\ntho' he had made some Encroachments upon them as above; for there was a\nglorious Remnant of Saints among _them_, such as old _Zacharias_ the\nFather of _John_ the Baptist, and old _Simeon_, who waited for the\nSalvation of _Israel_; I say, in this Condition the _Jewish_ Church\nstood when the _Messiah_ came into the World, which was such another\nmortal Stab to the Thrones and Principalities infernal, as that of which\nI have spoken already in Chap. III. at the Creation of Man; and\ntherefore with this I break off the Antiquities of the _Devil_'s\nHistory, or the antient Part of his Kingdom; for from hence downward we\nshall find his Empire has declin'd gradually; and tho' by his wonderful\nAddress, his prodigious Application, and the Vigilance and Fidelity of\nhis Instruments, as well human as infernal and diabolical, and of the\nHuman as well the Ecclesiastick as the Secular; he has many Times\nretriev'd what he has lost, and sometimes bid fair for recovering the\nuniversal Empire he once possess'd over Mankind; yet he has been still\ndefeated again, repulst and beaten back, and his Kingdom has greatly\ndeclin'd in many Parts of the World; and especially in the Northern\nParts, except _Great Britain_; and how he has politically maintain'd his\nInterest and encreased his Dominion among the wise and righteous\nGeneration that we cohabit with and among, will be the Subject of the\n_modern_ Part of _Satan_'s _History_, and of which we are next to give\nan Account.\n  PART II.\n  OF THE\n  MODERN HISTORY\n  OF THE\n  DEVIL.\nCHAP. I.\nI have examined the Antiquities of Satan's History in the former Part of\nthis Work, and brought his Affairs down from the Creation, as far as to\nour blessed Christian Times; especially to the Coming of the _Messiah_,\nwhen one would think the _Devil_ could have nothing to do among us. I\nhave indeed but touch'd at some Things which might have admitted of a\nfarther Description of Satan's Affairs, and the Particulars of which we\nmay all come to a farther Knowledge of hereafter; yet I think I have\nspoken to the material Part of his Conduct, as it relates to his Empire\nin this World: What has happen'd to his more sublimated Government, and\nhis Angelic Capacities, I shall have an Occasion to touch at in several\nsolid Particulars as we go along.\nThe _Messiah_ was now born, _the Fulness of Time was come_, that the old\nSerpent was to have his _Head broken_, that is to say, his Empire or\nDominion over Man, which he gain'd by the Fall of our first Father and\nMother in _Paradise_, receiv'd a Downfal or Overthrow.\nIt is worth observing, in order to confirm what I have already mention'd\nof the Limitation of Satan's Power, that not only his Angelic Strength\nseems to have received a farther Blow upon the Coming of the Son of God\ninto the World, but he seems to have had a Blow upon his Intellects; his\nSerpentine Craft and _Devil-like_ Subtilty seems to have been\ncircumscrib'd and cut short; and instead of his being so cunning a\nFellow as before, when, _as I said_, 'tis evident he outwitted all\nMankind, not only _Eve_, _Cain_, _Noah_, _Lot_, and all the Patriarchs,\nbut even Nations of Men, and that in their publick Capacity; and thereby\nled them into absurd and ridiculous Things, such as the Building of\n_Babel_, and deifying and worshiping their Kings, when dead and rotten;\nidolizing _Beasts_, _Stocks_, _Stones_, _any Thing_, and even _Nothing_;\nand in a Word, when he manag'd Mankind just as he pleased.\nNow and from this Time forward he appeared a weak, foolish, ignorant\n_Devil_, compar'd to what he was before; He was upon almost every\nOccasion resisted, disappointed, baulk'd and defeated, especially in all\nhis Attempts to thwart or cross the Mission and Ministry of the\n_Messiah_, while he was upon Earth, and sometimes upon other and very\nmean Occasions too.\nAnd first, how foolish a Project was it, and how below Satan's\ncelebrated Artifice in like Cases, to put _Herod_ upon sending to kill\nthe poor innocent Children in _Bethlehem_, in hopes to destroy the\nInfant? for I take it for granted, it was the _Devil_ put into\n_Herod_'s Thoughts that Execution, how simple and foolish soever; now we\nmust allow him to be very ignorant of the Nativity himself, or else he\nmight easily have guided his Friend _Herod_ to the Place where the\nInfant was.\nThis shews that _either_ the _Devil_ is in general ignorant as we are,\nof what is to come in the World, before it is really come to pass; and\nconsequently can foretel nothing, no not so much as our famous old\n_Merlin_ or _Mother Shipton_ did, _or else_ that great Event was hid\nfrom him by an immediate Power superior to his, which I cannot think\nneither, considering how much he was concern'd in it, and how certainly\nhe knew that it was once to come to pass.\nBut be that as it will, 'tis certain the _Devil_ knew nothing where\nChrist was born, or when; nor was he able to direct _Herod_ to find him\nout, and therefore put him upon that foolish, as well as cruel Order, to\nkill all the Children, that he might be sure to destroy the _Messiah_\namong the rest.\nThe next simple Step that the _Devil_ took, and indeed the most foolish\none that he could ever be charg'd with, unworthy the very Dignity of a\n_Devil_, and below the Understanding that he always was allow'd to act\nwith, was that of coming to tempt the _Messiah_ in the Wilderness; it is\ncertain, and he own'd it himself afterwards, upon many Occasions, that\nthe _Devil_ knew our Saviour to be the Son of God; and 'tis as certain\nthat he knew, that _as such_ he could have no Power or Advantage over\nhim; how foolish then was it in him to attack him in that Manner, _if\nthou beest the Son of_ GOD? why he knew him to be the _Son of_ GOD well\nenough; he said so afterwards, _I know thee who thou art, the holy One\nof_ GOD; how then could he be so weak a Devil as to say, _if thou art_,\nthen do _so_ and _so_?\nThe Case is plain, the _Devil_, tho' he knew him to be the Son of GOD,\ndid not fully know the Mystery of the Incarnation; nor did he know how\nfar the _Inanition_ of Christ extended, and whether, _as Man_, he was\nnot subject to fall as _Adam_ was, tho' his reserv'd Godhead might be\nstill immaculate and pure; and upon this Foot, as he would leave no\nMethod untried, he attempts him three Times, one immediately after\nanother; but then, finding himself disappointed he fled.\nThis evidently proves that the _Devil_ was ignorant of the great Mystery\nof Godliness, _as the Text calls it_, God manifest in the Flesh, and\ntherefore made that foolish Attempt upon Christ, thinking to have\nconquer'd his human Nature as capable of Sin, which it was not; and at\nthis Repulse _Hell_ groan'd, the whole Army of regimented _Devils_\nreceiv'd a Wound, and felt the Shock of it; 'twas a second Overthrow to\nthem, they had had a long Chain of Success, carried a _devilish_\nConquest over the greatest Part of the Creation of GOD; but now they\nwere cut short, _the Seed of the Woman_ was now come _to break the\nSerpent's Head_, that is, to cut short his Power, to contract the Limits\nof his Kingdom, and in a Word, to dethrone him in the World: No doubt\nthe _Devil_ receiv'd a Shock, for you find him always afterward, crying\nout in a horrible Manner, whenever Christ met with him, or else very\nhumble and submissive, as when he begg'd leave to go into the Herd of\nSwine, a Thing he has often done since.\nDefeated here, the first Stratagem I find him concern'd in after it, was\nhis entring into _Judas_, and putting him upon betraying Christ to the\nChief Priest; but here again he was entirely mistaken, for he did not\nsee, _as much a Devil as he was_, what the Event would be; but when he\ncame to know, that if Christ was put to Death, he would become a\nPropitiatory and be the great Sacrifice of Mankind, so to rescue the\nfallen Race from that Death they had incurr'd the Penalty of, by the\nFall, that this was the fulfilling of all Scripture Prophesy, and that\nthus it was that Christ was to be _the End of the Law_, I say, as soon\nas he perceiv'd this, he strove all he could to prevent it, and\ndisturb'd _Pilate_'s Wife in her Sleep, in order to set her upon her\nHusband to hinder his delivering him up to the _Jews_; for then, and not\ntill then, he knew how Christ was to vanquish Hell by the Power of his\nCross.\nThus the _Devil_ was disappointed and exposed in every Step he took, and\nas he now plainly saw his Kingdom declining, and even the temporal\nKingdom of Christ, rising up upon the Ruins of his (_Satan_'s) Power; he\nseem'd to retreat into his own Region the Air, and to consult there with\nhis fellow _Devils_, what Measures he should take next to preserve his\nDominion among Men; Here it was that he resolv'd upon that truly hellish\nThing call'd Persecution, by which, _tho' he prov'd a foolish Devil in\nthat too_, he flatter'd himself he should be able to destroy God's\nChurch, and root out its Professors from the Earth, even almost as soon\nas it was establish'd; whereas on the contrary, Heaven counter-acted him\nthere too, and tho' he arm'd the whole _Roman_ Empire against the\nChristians, _that is say_, the whole World, and they were fallen upon\nevery where, with all the Fury and Rage of some of the most flaming\nTyrants that the World ever saw, of whom _Nero_ was the first; yet in\nspight of Hell, GOD made all the Blood, which the Devil caus'd to be\nspilt, to be _semen Ecclesi\u00e6_, and the DEVIL had the Mortification to\nsee, that the Number of Christians encreased even under the very Means\nhe made use of to root them out and destroy them: This was the Case\nthro' the Reign of all the _Roman_ Emperors, for the first three hundred\nYears after Christ.\nHaving thus tried all the Methods that best suited his Inclination, I\nmean those of Blood and Death, complicated with Tortures and all Kinds\nof Cruelty, and that for so long a Stage of Time as above; the _Devil_\nall on a suddain, as if glutted with Blood, and satiated with\nDestruction, sits still and becomes a peaceable Spectator for a good\nwhile; as if he either found himself unable, or had no Disposition to\nhinder the Progress of Christianity in the first Ages of its Settlement\nin the World: In this interval the Christian Church was establish'd\nunder _Constantine_, Religion flourished in Peace, and under the most\nperfect Tranquillity: The _Devil_ seem'd to be at a Loss what he should\ndo next, and Things began to look as if Satan's Kingdom was at an End;\nbut he soon let them see that he was the same indefatigable _Devil_ that\never he was, and the Prosperity of the Church gave him a large Field of\nAction; for knowing the Disposition of Mankind to Quarrel and Dispute,\nthe universal Passion rooted in Nature, especially among the Church-Men\nfor Precedency and Dominion, he fell to work with them immediately; so\nthat turning the Tables, and reassuming the Subtilty and Craft, which, I\nsay, he seem'd to have lost in the former four hundred Years, he gain'd\nmore Ground in the next Ages of the Church, and went farther towards\nrestoring his Power and Empire in the World, and towards overthrowing\nthat very Church which was so lately establish'd, than all he had done\nby Fire and Blood before.\nHis Policy now seem'd to be edg'd with Resentment for the Mistakes he\nhad made; as if the Devil looking back with Anger at himself, to see\nwhat a Fool he had been to expect to crush Religion by Persecution,\nrejoyc'd for having discover'd that Liberty and Dominion was the only\nway to ruin the Church, not Fire and Faggot; and that he had nothing to\ndo but to give the zealous People their utmost Liberty in Religion, only\nsowing Error and Variety of Opinion among them, and they would bring\nFire and Faggot in fast enough among themselves.\nIt must be confess'd these were devilish Politicks; and so sure was the\nAim, and so certain was the _Devil_ to hit his Mark by them, that we\nfind he not only did not fail then, but the same hellish Methods have\nprevail'd still, and will do so to the End of the World. Nor had the\nDevil ever a better Game to play than this, for the Ruin of Religion, as\nwe shall have room to show in many Examples, besides that of the\nDissenters in _England_, who are evidently weaken'd by the late\nToleration: Whether the _Devil_ had any hand in baiting his Hook with an\nA--- of Parliament or no, History is silent, but 'tis too evident he has\ncatch'd the Fish by it; and if the honest Church of _England_ does not\nin Pity and Christian Charity to the Dissenters, straighten her Hand a\nlittle, I cannot but fear the _Devil_ will gain his Point, and the\nDissenter will be undone by it.\nUpon this new foot of Politicks the _Devil_ began with the Emperors\nthemselves: _Arius_, the Father of the Hereticks of that Age, having\nbroach'd his Opinions, and _Athanasius_ the orthodox Bishop of the East\nopposing him, the _Devil_ no sooner saw the Door open to Strife and\nImposition, but he thrust himself in, and raising the Quarrel up to a\nsuited Degree of Rage and Spleen, he involv'd the good Emperor himself\nin it first and _Athanasius_ was banish'd and recall'd, and banish'd\nand recall'd again, several times, as Error ran high, and as the _Devil_\neither got or lost Ground: After _Constantine_, the next Emperor was a\nChild of his own, (_Arian_) and then the Court came all into the\nQuarrel, as Courts often do, and then the _Arians_ and the _Orthodox_\npersecuted one another as furiously as the Pagans persecuted them all\nbefore. To such a Height the _Devil_ brought his Conquest in the very\nInfancy of the Question, and so much did he prevail over the true\nChristianity of the Primitive Church, even before they had enjoy'd the\nLiberty of the pure Worship twenty Years.\nFlush'd with this Success, the _Devil_ made one Push for the restoring\n_Paganism_, and bringing on the old Worship of the Heathen Idols and\nTemples; but like our King _James_ II. he drove too hard, and _Julian_\nhad so provok'd the whole _Roman_ Empire, which was generally at that\ntime become Christian, that had the Apostate liv'd, he would not have\nbeen able to have held the Throne; and as he was cut off in his\nBeginning, Paganism expir'd with him, and the _Devil_ himself might have\ncry'd out, as _Julian_ did, and with much more Propriety, _Vicisti\nGalileane_.\n_Jovian_, the next Emperor, being a glorious Christian, and a very good\nand great Man, the _Devil_ abdicated for a while, and left the Christian\nArmies to re-establish the Orthodox Faith; nor could he bring the\nChristians to a Breach again among themselves a great while after.\nHowever, Time and a diligent _Devil_ did the Work at last, and when the\nEmperors concerning themselves one way or other, did not appear\nsufficient to answer his End, he chang'd Hands again, and went to work\nwith the Clergy: To set the Doctors effectually together by the Ears,\nhe threw in the new Notion of _Primacy_ among them, for a Bone of\nContention; the Bait took, the Priests swallow'd it eagerly down, and\nthe _Devil_, a cunninger Fisherman than ever St. _Peter_ was, _struck\nthem_ (as the Anglers call it) with a quick Hand, and hung them fast\nupon the Hook.\nHaving them thus in his Clutches, and they being now, as we may say, his\nown, they took their Measures afterwards from him, and most obediently\nfollow'd his Directions; nay, I will not say but he may have had pretty\nmuch the Management of the whole Society ever since, of what Profession\nor Party soever they may have been, with Exception only to the Reverend\nand Right Reverend among our selves.\nThe Sacred, as above, being thus hook'd in, and the DEVIL being at the\nHead of their Affairs, Matters went on most gloriously his own way;\nfirst, the Bishops fell to bandying and Party-making for the\nSuperiority, as heartily as ever Temporal Tyrants did for Dominion, and\ntook as black and devilish Methods to carry it on, as the worst of those\nTyrants ever had done before them.\nAt last Satan declar'd for the _Roman_ Pontiff, and that upon excellent\nConditions, in the Reign of the Emperor _Mauritius_; for _Boniface_, who\nhad long contended for the Title of Supreme, fell into a Treaty with\n_Phocas_, Captain of the Emperor's Guards; whether the Bargain was from\nHell or not, let any one judge, the Conditions absolutely entitle the\n_Devil_ to the Honour of making the Contract, _viz._ That _Phocas_ first\nmurthering his Master (the Emperor) and his Sons, _Boniface_ should\ncountenance the Treason, and declare him Emperor; and in Return,\n_Phocas_ should acknowledge the Primacy of the Church of _Rome_, and\ndeclare _Boniface_ universal Bishop. A blessed Compact! which at once\nset the _Devil_ at the Head of Affairs in the Christian World, as well\nSpiritual as Temporal, Ecclesiastick and Civil. Since the Conquest over\n_Eve_ in Paradise, by which Death and the DEVIL, Hand in Hand,\nestablish'd their first Empire upon Earth, the _Devil_ never gain'd a\nmore important Point than he gain'd at this time.\nHe had indeed prospered in his Affairs tolerably well for some time\nbefore this, and his Interest among the Clergy had got Ground for some\nAges; but that was indeed a secret Management, was carried on privately,\nand with Difficulty; as in sowing Discord and Faction among the People,\nperplexing the Councils of their Princes, and secretly wheedling in with\nthe dignified Clergy.\nAlso he had raised abundance of little Church-Rebellions, by setting up\nHereticks of several Kinds, and raising them Favourers among the Clergy,\nsuch as _Ebion_, _Cerinthius_, _Pelagius_, and others.\nHe had drawn in the Bishops of _Rome_ to set up the ridiculous Pageantry\nof the KEY; and while he, the DEVIL, set open the Gates of Hell to\nthem all, set them upon locking up the Gates of Heaven, and giving the\nBishop the Key; a Cheat which, as gross as it was, the DEVIL so gilded\nover, or so blinded the Age to receive it, that like _Gideon's Ephod_,\nall the Catholick World went a whoring after the Idol; and the Bishop of\n_Rome sent_ more Fools to the _Devil_ by it than ever he pretended to\nlet into Heaven, though he open'd the Door as wide as his Key was able\nto do.\nThe Story of this Key being given to the Bishop of _Rome_ by St.\n_Peter_, (who, by the way, never had it himself,) and of its being lost\nby Somebody or other, (the _Devil_ it seems did not tell them who) and\nits being found again by a _Lombard_ Soldier in the Army of King\n_Antharis_, who attempting to cut it with his Knife, was miraculously\nforced to direct the Wound to himself, and cut his own Throat; that King\n_Antharis_ and his Nobles happened to see the Fellow do it, and were\nconverted to Christianity by it, and that the King sent the Key, with\nanother made like it, to Pope _Pelagius_, then Bishop of _Rome_, who\nthereupon assum'd the Power of opening and shutting Heaven's Gates; and\nhe afterwards setting a Price or Toll upon the Entrance, as we do here\nat passing a Turn-pike; these fine things, I say, were successfully\nmanaged for some Years before this I am now speaking of, and the Devil\ngot a great deal of Ground by it too; but now he triumph'd openly, and\nhaving set up a Murtherer upon the temporal Throne, and a Church Emperor\nupon the Ecclesiastic Throne, and both of his own choosing, the _Devil_\nmay be said to begin his new Kingdom from this Epocha, and call it the\n_Restoration_.\nSince this time indeed the Devil's Affairs went very merrily on, and the\nClergy brought so many Gewgaws into their Worship, and such devilish\nPrinciples were mixt with that which we call'd the Christian Faith, that\nin a Word, from this Time the Bishop of _Rome_ commenc'd _Whore of\nBabylon_, in all the most express Terms that could be imagin'd: Tyranny\nof the worst sort crept into the Pontificate, Errors of all sorts into\nthe Profession, and they proceeded from one thing to another, till the\nvery Popes, for so the Bishop of _Rome_ was now called, by way of\nDistinction; I say, the Popes themselves, their spiritual Guides,\nprofess'd openly to confederate with the _Devil_, and to carry on a\npersonal and private Correspondence with him at the same time, taking\nupon them the Title of Christ's Vicar, and the infallible Guide of the\nConsciences of Christians.\nThis we have sundry Instances of in some merry Popes, who, _if Fame lies\nnot_, were Sorcerers, Magicians, had familiar Spirits, and immediate\nConversation with the Devil, as well visibly as invisibly, and by this\nmeans became what we call _Devils incarnate_: Upon this account it is\nthat I have left the Conversation that passes between _Devils and Men_\nto this Place, as well because I believe it differs much now in his\nmodern State, from what it was in his ancient State, and therefore that\nwhich most concerns us belongs rather to this part of his History; as\nalso because, as I am now writing to the present Age, I choose to bring\nthe most significant Parts of his History, especially as they relate to\nour selves, into that Part of Time that we are most concern'd in.\nThe _Devil_ had once, as I observ'd before, the universal Monarchy or\nGovernment of Mankind in himself, and I doubt not but in that\nflourishing State of his Affairs, he governed them like what he is\n(_viz._) an absolute Tyrant; during this _Theocracy_ of his, _for_ Satan\n_is call'd the God of this World_, he did not familiarize himself to\nMankind so much, as he finds Occasion to do now, there was not then so\nmuch need of it; he governed then with an absolute Sway; he had his\nOracles, where he gave Audience to his Votaries like a Deity, and he had\nhis Sub-Gods, who under his several Dispositions receiv'd the Homage of\nMankind in their Names; such were all the Rabble of the Heathen Deities,\nfrom _Jupiter_ the Supreme, to the _Lares_ or Houshold Gods of every\nFamily; these, I say, like Residents, received the Prostrations, but the\nHomage was all Satan's; the Devil had the Substance of it all, which was\nthe Idolatry.\nDuring this Administration of _Hell_, there was less Witchcraft, less\ntrue literal Magick than there has been since; there was indeed no need\nof it, the DEVIL did not stoop to the Mechanism of his more modern\nOperations, but rul'd as a Deity, and receiv'd the Vows and the Bows of\nhis Subjects in more State, and with more Solemnity; whereas since that,\nhe is content to employ more Agents and take more Pains himself too; now\nhe runs up and down Hackney in the World, more like a Drudge than a\nPrince, and much more than he did then.\nHence all those Things we call Apparitions and Visions of Ghosts,\nFamiliar-Spirits and Dealings with the Devil, of which there is so great\na Variety in the World at this Time, were not so much known among the\nPeople, in those first Ages of the Devil's Kingdom; _in a Word_, the\nDevil seems to be put to his Shifts, and to fly to Art and Stratagem for\nthe carrying on his Affairs, much more now than he did then.\nOne Reason for this may be, that he has been more discover'd and expos'd\nin these Ages, than he was before; then he could appear in the World in\nhis own proper Shapes, and yet not be known; when the Sons of GOD\nappear'd at the divine Summons, Satan came along with them; but now he\nhas plaid so many scurvy Tricks upon Men, and they know him so well,\nthat he is oblig'd to play quite out of sight and act in disguise;\nMankind will allow nothing of his doing, and hear nothing of his saying,\nin his own Name; and if you propose any Thing to be done, and it be but\nsaid the _Devil_ is to help in the doing it, or if you say of any Man he\ndeals with the _Devil_, or the _Devil_ has a Hand in it, every Body\nflies him and shuns him, as the most frightful Thing in the World.\nNay, if any Thing strange and improbable be done or related to be done,\nwe presently say the _Devil_ was at the doing it: Thus the great Ditch\nat _Newmarket Heath_, is call'd the _Devil_'s _Ditch_; so the _Devil_\nbuilt _Crowland_ Abby, and the Whispering-Place in _Gloucester_\nCathedral; nay, the Cave at _Castleton_, only because there's no getting\nto the farther End of it, is call'd the _Devil_'s A---- and the like:\nThe poor People of _Wiltshire_, when you ask them how the great Stones\nat _Stonehenge_ were brought thither? they'll all tell you the _Devil_\nbrought them: If any Mischief extraordinary befalls us, we presently say\nthe _Devil_ was in it, and the _Devil_ would have it so; in a Word, the\n_Devil_ has got an ill Name among us, and so he is fain to act more _in\nTenebris_, more _incog._ than he used to do, play out of sight himself,\nand work by the Sap, as the Engineers call it, and not openly and\navowedly in his own Name and Person, as formerly, tho' perhaps not with\nless Success than he did before; and this leads me to enquire more\nnarrowly into the manner of the _Devil_'s Management of his Affairs\nsince the Christian Religion began to spread in the World, which\nmanifestly differs from his Conduct in more antient Times; in which if\nwe discover some of the most consummate Fool's Policy, the most profound\nsimple Craft, and the most subtle shallow Management of Things that can\nby our weak Understandings be conceiv'd, we must only resolve it into\nthis, that in short it is the DEVIL.\nCHAP. II.\n_Of Hell as it is represented to us, and how the_ Devil _is to be\n     understood, as being personally in Hell, when at the same Time we\n     find him at Liberty ranging over the World._\nIt is true, as that learn'd and pleasant Author, the inimitable Dr.\n_Brown_ says, the _Devil_ is his own Hell; one of the most constituting\nParts of his Infelicity is, that he cannot act upon Mankind _brevi\nManu_, by his own inherent Power, as well as Rage; that he cannot\nunhinge this Creation, which, _as I have observ'd in its Place_, he had\nthe utmost Aversion to from its Beginning, as it was a stated Design in\nthe Creator to supply his Place in Heaven with a new Species of _Beings_\ncall'd _Man_, and fill the Vacancies occasion'd by his Degeneracy and\nRebellion.\nThis fill'd him with Rage inexpressible, and horrible Resolutions of\nRevenge, and the Impossibility of executing those Resolutions torments\nhim with Despair; this added to what he was before, makes him a compleat\n_Devil_, with a Hell in his own Breast, and a Fire unquenchable burning\nabout his Heart.\nI might enlarge here, and very much to the Purpose, in describing\nspherically and mathematically that exquisite Quality call'd _a devilish\nSpirit_, in which it would naturally occur to give you a whole Chapter\nupon the glorious Articles of _Malice_ and _Envy_, and especially upon\nthat luscious, delightful, triumphant Passion call'd REVENGE; how\nnatural to Man, nay even to both Sexes; how pleasant in the very\nContemplation, tho' there be not just at that Time a Power of\nExecution; how palatable it is in it self, and how well it relishes when\ndish'd up with its proper Sauces, such as Plot, Contrivance, Scheme, and\nConfederacy, all leading on to Execution: How it possesses a human Soul\nin all the most sensible Parts; how it empowers Mankind to sin in\nImagination, as effectually to all future Intents and Purposes\n(Damnation) as if he had sinned actually: How safe a Practice it is too,\nas to Punishment in this Life, namely, that it empowers us to cut\nThroats clear of the Gallows, to slander Virtue, reproach Innocence,\nwound Honour and stab Reputation; and in a Word, to do all the wicked\nThings in the World, out of the Reach of the Law.\nIt would also require some few Words to describe the secret Operations\nof those nice Qualities when they reach the human Soul; how effectually\nthey form a Hell within us, and how imperceptibly they assimilate and\ntransform us into _Devils_, meer human Devils, as really _Devils_ as\nSatan himself, or any of his Angels; and that therefore 'tis not so much\nout of the Way, as some imagine, to say, such a Man is an _incarnate_\nDevil; for as Crime made Satan a _Devil_, who was before a bright\nimmortal Seraph, or Angel of Light; how much more easily may the same\nCrime make _the same_ DEVIL, tho' every Way meaner and more\ncontemptible, _of a Man or_ a Woman either? But this is too grave a\nSubject for me at this Time.\nThe _Devil_ being thus, I say, fir'd with Rage and Envy, in consequence\nof his Jealousy upon the Creation of Man, his Torment is encreased to\nthe highest by the Limitation of his Power, and his being forbid to act\nagainst Mankind by Force of Arms; this is, I say, part of his _Hell_,\nwhich, as above, is within him, and which he carries with him wherever\nhe goes; nor is it so difficult to conceive of _Hell_, or of the\n_Devil_, either under this just Description, as it is by all the usual\nNotions that we are taught to entertain of them, by (the old Women) our\nInstructors; for every Man may, by taking but a common View of himself,\nand making a just Scrutiny into his own Passions, on some of their\nparticular Excursions, see a _Hell_ within himself, and himself a meer\n_Devil_ as long as the Inflammation lasts; and that as really, and to\nall Intents and Purposes, as if he had the Angel (_Satan_) before his\nFace, in his Locality and Personality; that is to say, all Devil and\nMonster in his Person, and an immaterial but intense Fire flaming about\nand from within him, at all the Pores of his Body.\nThe Notions we receive of the Devil, _as a Person_ being in Hell _as a\nPlace_, are infinitely absurd and ridiculous; the first we are certain\nis not true in Fact, because he has a certain Liberty, (_however\nlimited_ that is not to the Purpose) is daily visible, and to be trac'd\nin his several Attacks upon Mankind, and has been so ever since his\nfirst Appearance in _Paradise_; as to his corporal Visibility that is\nnot the present Question neither; 'tis enough that we can hunt him by\nthe Foot, that we can follow him as Hounds do a Fox upon a hot Scent: We\ncan see him as plainly by the Effect, by the Mischief he does, and more\nby the Mischief he puts us upon doing, _I say_, as plainly, as if we saw\nhim by the Eye.\nIt is not to be doubted but the _Devil_ can see us when and where we\ncannot see him: and as he has a Personality, tho' it be spirituous, he\nand his Angels too may be reasonably supposed to inhabit the World of\nSpirits, and to have free Access from thence to the Regions of Life, and\nto pass and repass in the Air, as really, tho' not perceptible to us,\nas the Spirits of Men do after their release from the Body, pass to the\nPlace (wherever that is) which is appointed for them.\nIf the _Devil_ was confin'd to a Place (_Hell_) as a Prison, he could\nthen have no Business here; and if we pretend to describe _Hell_, as not\na Prison, but that the Devil has Liberty to be there, or not be there as\nhe pleased, then he would certainly never be there, or _Hell_ is not\nsuch a Place as we are taught to understand it to be.\nIndeed according to some, _Hell_ should be a Place of Fire and Torment\nto the Souls that are cast into it, but not to the _Devils_ themselves;\nwho we make little more or less than keepers and Turnkeys to Hell, as a\nGoal; that they are sent about to bring Souls thither, lock them in when\nthey come, and then away upon the Scent to fetch more: That one Sort of\n_Devils_ are made to live in the World among Men, and to be busy\ncontinually debauching and deluding Mankind bringing them as it were to\nthe Gates of _Hell_; and then another Sort are Porters and Carriers to\nfetch them in.\nThis is, _in short_, little more or less than the old Story of _Pluto_,\nof _Cerberus_, and of _Charon_; only that our Tale is not half so well\ntold, nor the Parts of the Fable so well laid together.\nIn all these Notions of _Hell_ and _Devil_, the Torments of the first,\nand the Agency of the last Tormenting, we meet with not one Word of the\nmain and perhaps only Accent of Horror, which belongs to us to judge of\nabout Hell, I mean the Absence of Heaven; Expulsion, and Exclusion from\nthe Presence and Face of the chief Ultimate, the only eternal and\nsufficient Good; and this loss sustain'd by a sordid Neglect of our\nConcern in that excellent Part, in exchange for the most contemptible\nand justly condemn'd Trifles, and all this eternal and irrecoverable:\nThese People tell us nothing of the eternal Reproaches of Conscience,\nthe Horror of Desperation, and the Anguish of a Mind hopeless of ever\nseeing the Glory, which alone constitutes Heaven, and which makes all\nother Places dreadful, and even Darkness it self.\nAnd this brings me directly to the Point in Hand, (_viz._) the State of\nthat Hell which we ought to have in view when we speak of the _Devil_ as\n_in Hell_: This is the very Hell, which is the Torment of the _Devil_;\nin short, the _Devil_ is in HELL, and HELL is in the _Devil_; he is\nfill'd with this unquenchable Fire, he is expel'd the Place of Glory,\nbanish'd from the Regions of Light, Absence from the Life of all\nBeatitude is his Curse, Despair is the reigning Passion in his Mind, and\nall the little Constituent Parts of his Torment, such as Rage, Envy,\nMalice, and Jealousy are consolidated in this, to make his Misery\ncompleat, (_viz._) the Duration of it all, the Eternity of his\nCondition; that he is without Hope, without Redemption, without\nRecovery.\nIf any thing can inflame this _Hell_ and make it hotter, 'tis this only,\nand this does add an inexpressible Horror to the Devil himself;\n_namely_, the seeing Man (the only Creature he hates) placed in a State\nof Recovery, a glorious Establishment of Redemption form'd for him in\nHeaven, and the Scheme of it perfected on Earth; by which _this Man_,\ntho' even the _Devil_ by his Art may have deluded him, and drawn him\ninto Crime, is yet in a State of Recovery, which the Devil is not; and\nthat it is not in his (_Satan_'s) Power to prevent it: Now take the\nDevil as he is in his own Nature Angelic, a bright immortal Seraph,\nHeaven-born, and having tasted the eternal Beatitude, which these are\nappointed to enjoy; the Loss of that State to himself, the Possession\nof it granted to his Rival tho' wicked like and as himself; I say, take\nthe Devil as he is, having a quick Sense of his own Perdition, and a\nstinging Sight of his Rival's Felicity, 'tis _Hell enough_, and more\nthan enough, even for an Angel to support; nothing we can conceive can\nbe worse.\nAs to any other Fire than this, such and so immaterially intense as to\nTorment a Spirit, which is it self Fire also; I will not say it cannot\nbe, because to Infinite every Thing is possible, but I must say, I\ncannot conceive rightly of it.\nI will not enter here into the Wisdom or Reasonableness of representing\nthe Torments of Hell to be Fire, and that Fire to be a Commixture of\n_Flame_ and _Sulphur_; it has pleased God to let the Horror of those\neternal Agonies about _a lost Heaven_, be laid before us by those\nSimilitudes or Allegories, which are most moving to our Senses and to\nour Understandings; nor will I dispute the Possibility; much less will I\ndoubt but that there is to be a Consummation of Misery to all the\nObjects of Misery when the _Devil_'s Kingdom in this World ending with\nthe World it self, that Liberty he has now may be farther abridg'd; when\nhe may be return'd to the same State he was in between the Time of his\nFall and the Creation of the World; with perhaps some additional\nVengeance on him, such as at present we cannot describe, for all that\nTreason and those high Crimes and Misdemeanours which he has been guilty\nof here, in his Conversation with Mankind.\nAs his Infelicity will be then consummated and compleated, so the\nInfelicity of that Part of Mankind, who are condemn'd with him, may\nreceive a considerable Addition from those Words in their Sentence, to\nbe tormented _with the Devil and his Angels_; for as the Absence of the\nSupreme Good is a compleat Hell, so the hated Company of the Deceiver,\nwho was the great Cause of his Ruine, must be a Subject of additional\nHorror, and he will be always saying, as a _Scots_ Gentleman, who died\nof his Excesses, said to the famous Dr. _P----_, who came to see him on\nhis Death-bed, but had been too much his Companion in his Life,\n  _O tu fundamenta jecisti------_\nI would not treat the very Subject it self with any Indecency, nor do I\nthink my Opinion of that _Hell_, which I say consists in the Absence of\nhim, in whom is Heaven, one Jot less Solemn than theirs who believe it\nall _Fire_ and _Brimstone_; but I must own, that to me nothing can be\nmore ridiculous than the Notions that we entertain and fill our Heads\nwith about _Hell_, and about the _Devil_'s being there tormenting of\nSouls, broiling them upon Gridirons, hanging them up upon Hooks,\ncarrying them upon their Backs, and the like, with the several Pictures\nof _Hell_, represented by a great Mouth with horrible Teeth, gaping like\na Cave on the Sides of a Mountain; suppose that appropriated to _Satan_\nin the _Peak_, which indeed is not much unlike it, with a Stream of Fire\ncoming out of it, as there is of Water, and smaller Devils going and\ncoming continually in and out, to fetch and carry Souls the Lord knows\nwhither, and for the Lord knows what.\nThese Things, however intended for Terror, are indeed so ridiculous,\nthat the _Devil_ himself, to be sure, mocks at them, and a Man of Sense\ncan hardly refrain doing the like, only I avoid it, because I would not\ngive offence to weaker Heads.\nHowever, I must not Compliment the Brains of other Men, at the Expence\nof my own, or talk Nonsense because they can understand no other; I\nthink all these Notions and Representations of _Hell_ and of the\n_Devil_, to be as prophane as they are ridiculous, and I ought no more\nto talk prophanely than merrily of them.\nLet us learn to talk of these Things then, as we should do; and as we\nreally cannot describe them to our Reason and Understanding, why should\nwe describe them to our Senses; we had, I think, much better not\ndescribe them at all, that is to say, not attempt it: The blessed\nApostle St. _Paul_ was, as he said himself, carried up, or caught up\ninto the _third Heaven_, yet when he came down again, he could neither\ntell what he heard or describe what he saw; all he could say of it was,\nthat what he heard was _inutterable_, and what he saw was\n_inconceivable_.\nIt is the same thing as to the State of the _Devil_ in those Regions\nwhich he now possesses, and where he now more particularly inhabits; my\npresent Business then is not to enter into those grave Things so as to\nmake them ridiculous, as I think most People do that talk of them; but\nas the _Devil_, let his Residence be where it will, has evidently free\nLeave to come and go, not into this World only; (_I mean, the Region of\nour Atmosphere_,) but for ought we know, to all the other inhabited\nWorlds which God has made, where-ever they are, and by whatsoever Names\nthey are or may be known or distinguished; for if he is not confined in\none Place, we have no Reason to believe he is excluded from any Place,\nHeaven only excepted, from whence he was expell'd for his Treason and\nRebellion.\nHis Liberty then being thus ascertain'd, three Things seem to be\nmaterial for us to give an Account of, in order to form this Part of\nhis History.\n     1. What his Business is on this Globe of Earth which we vulgarly\n     call the World, how he acts among us, what Affairs Mankind and he\n     have together, and how far his Conduct here relates to Us, and Ours\n     is, or may be influenc'd by him.\n     2. Where his Principal Residence is, and whether he has not a\n     particular Empire of his own, to which he retreats upon proper\n     Occasions; where he entertains his Friends when they come under his\n     particular Administration; and where, when he gets any Victory over\n     his Enemies, he carries his Prisoners of War.\n     3. What may probably be the great Business this black Emperor has\n     at present upon his Hands, either in this World or out of it, and\n     by what Agents he works.\nAs these Things may perhaps run promiscuously thro' the Course of this\nwhole Work, and frequently be touch'd at under other Branches of the\n_Devil_'s History, so I do not propose them as Heads of Chapters or\nParticular Sections, for the Order of Discourse to be handled apart; for\n(by the way) as Satan's Actings have not been the most regular Things in\nthe World, so in our Discourse about him, it must not be expected that\nwe can always tie our selves down to Order and Regularity, either as to\nTime, or Place, or Persons; for Satan being _hic & ubique_, a loose\nungovern'd Fellow, we must be content to trace him where we can find\nhim.\nIt is true, in the foregoing Chapter, I shew'd you the DEVIL entred into\nthe Herd Ecclesiastick, and gave you some Account of the first\nsuccessful Step he took with Mankind since the Christian Epocha; how\nhaving secretly managed both Temporal and Spiritual Power apart, and by\nthemselves, he now united them in Point of Management, and brought the\nChurch Usurpation and the Army's Usurpation together; the Pope to bless\nthe General in deposing and murthering his Master the Emperor; and the\nGeneral to recognise the Pope in dethroning his Master Christ Jesus.\nFrom this time forward you are to allow the _Devil_ a mystical Empire in\nthis World; not an Action of Moment done without him, not a Treason but\nhe has a Hand in it, not a Tyrant but he prompts him, not a Government\nbut he has a ---- in it; not a Fool but he tickles him, not a Knave but\nhe guides him; he has a Finger in every Fraud, a Key to every Cabinet,\nfrom the _Divan_ at _Constantinople_, to the _Mississipi_ in _France_,\nand to the _South-Sea_ Cheats at ------; from the first Attack upon the\nChristian World, in the Person of the _Romish_ Antichrist, down to the\nBull _Unigenitus_; and from the Mixture of St. _Peter_ and _Confucius_\nin _China_, to the Holy Office in _Spain_; and down to the _Emlins_ and\n_Dodwells_ of the current Age.\nHow he has managed, and does manage, and how in all Probability he will\nmanage till his Kingdom shall come to a Period, and how at last he will\nprobably be managed himself, _Enquire within, and you shall know\nfarther_.\nCHAP. III.\n_Of the Manner of_ Satan_'s acting and carrying on his Affairs in this\n     World, and particularly of his ordinary Workings in the dark, by_\n     Possession _and_ Agitation.\nThe Devil being thus reduc'd to act upon Mankind by Stratagem only, it\nremains to enquire how he performs, and which way he directs his\nAttacks; the Faculties of Man are a kind of a Garrison in a strong\nCastle, which as they defend it on the one hand under the Command of the\nreasoning Power of Man's Soul, so they are prescribed on the other hand,\nand can't sally out without Leave; for the Governor of a Fort does not\npermit his Soldiers to hold any Correspondence with the Enemy, without\nspecial Order and Direction. Now the great Enquiry before us is, How\ncomes the DEVIL to a Parley with us? how does he converse with our\nSenses, and with the Understanding? How does he reach us, which way does\nhe come at the Affections, and which way does he move the Passions? 'Tis\na little difficult to discover this treasonable Correspondence, and that\nDifficulty is indeed the _Devil_'s Advantage, and, for ought I see, the\nchief Advantage he has over Mankind.\nIt is also a great Enquiry here, whether the _Devil_ knows our Thoughts\nor no? If I may give my Opinion, I am with the negative; I deny that he\nknows any thing of our Thoughts, except of those Thoughts which he puts\nus upon thinking, for I will not doubt but he has the Art to inject\nThoughts, and to revive dormant Thoughts in us: It is not so wild a\nScheme as some take it to be, that Mr. _Milton_ lays down, to represent\nthe _Devil_ injecting corrupt Desires and wandring Thoughts into the\nHead of _Eve_, by Dreams, and that he brought her to Dream whatever he\nput into her Thoughts, by whispering to her vocally when she was asleep;\nand to this End, he imagines the DEVIL laying himself close to her Ear,\nin the Shape of a Toad, when she was fall asleep; I say, this is not so\nwild a Scheme, seeing even now, if you can whisper any thing close to\nthe Ear of a Person in a deep Sleep, so as to speak distinctly to the\nPerson, and yet not awaken him, as has been frequently tried, the Person\nsleeping shall dream distinctly of what you say to him; nay, shall dream\nthe very Words you say.\nWe have then no more to ask, but how the DEVIL can convey himself to the\nEar of a sleeping Person, and it is granted then that he may have Power\nto make us dream what he pleases: But this is not all, for if he can so\nforcibly, by his invisible Application, cause us to dream, what he\npleases, why can he not with the same Facility prompt our Thoughts,\nwhether sleeping or waking? To dream, is nothing else but to think\nsleeping; and we have abundance of deep-headed Gentlemen among us, who\ngive us ample Testimony that they dream waking.\nBut if the DEVIL can prompt us to dream, that is to say, to think, yet\nif he does not know our Thoughts, how then can he tell whether the\nWhisper had its Effect? The answer is plain, the DEVIL, like the Angler,\nbaits the Hook, if the Fish bite he lies ready to take the Advantage, he\nwhispers to the Imagination, and then waits to see how it works; as\n_Naomi_ said to _Ruth_, Chap. iii. 5, 18. _Sit still, my Daughter, until\nthou know how the Matter will fall, for the Man will not be at rest\nuntil he have finished the thing._ Thus when the DEVIL had whisper'd to\n_Eve_ in her Sleep, _according to Milton_, and suggested Mischief to her\nImagination, he only sat still to see how the Matter would work, for he\nknew if it took with her, he should hear more of it; and then by finding\nher alone the next Day, without her ordinary Guard her Husband, he\npresently concluded she had swallowed the Bait, and so attack'd her\nafresh.\nA small deal of Craft, and less by far than we have reason to believe\nthe _Devil_ is Master of, will serve to discover whether such and such\nThoughts as he knows he has suggested, have taken Place or no; the\nAction of the Person presently discovers it, at least to him that lies\nalways upon the Watch, and has every Word, every Gesture, every Step we\ntake subsequent to his Operation, open to him; it may therefore, for\nought we know, be a great Mistake, and what most of us are guilty of, to\ntell our Dreams to one another in the Morning, after we have been\ndisturb'd with them in the Night; for if the _Devil_ converses with us\nso insensibly as some are of the Opinion he does, _that is to say_, if\nhe can hear as far as we can see, we may be telling our Story to him\nindeed, when we think we are only talking to one another.\nThis brings me most naturally to the important Enquiry, whether the\n_Devil_ can walk about the World invisibly or no? The Truth is, this is\nno question to me; for as I have taken away his Visibility already, and\nhave denied him all Prescience of Futurity too, and have prov'd he\ncannot know our Thoughts, nor put any Force upon Persons or Actions, if\nwe should take away his Invisibility too, we should _undevil_ him quite,\nto all Intents and Purposes, as to any Mischief he could do; nay, it\nwould banish him the World, and he might e'en go and seek his Fortune\nsome where else; for if he could neither be visible or invisible,\nneither act in publick or in private, he could neither have Business or\nBeing in this Sphere, nor could we be any way concern'd with him.\nThe _Devil_ therefore most certainly has a Power and Liberty of moving\nabout in this World, after _some manner or another_; this is verify'd as\nwell by way of Allegory, as by way of History, in the Scripture it self;\nand as the first strongly suggests and supposes it to be so, the last\npositively asserts it; and, not to croud this Work with Quotations from\na Book which we have not much to do with in the _Devil_'s Story, at\nleast not much to his Satisfaction, I only hint his personal Appearance\nto our Saviour in the Wilderness, where it is said, _the Devil taketh\nhim up to an exceeding high Mountain_; and in another Place, _the Devil\ndeparted from him_. What Shape or Figure he appear'd in, we do not find\nmentioned, but I cannot doubt his appearing to him there, any more than\nI can his talking to our Saviour in the Mouths, and with the Voices of\nthe several Persons who were under the terrible Affliction of an actual\nPossession.\nThese Things leave us no room to doubt of what is advanced above,\nnamely, that he, (the _Devil_) has a certain Residence, or Liberty of\nresiding in, and moving about upon the Surface of this Earth, as well as\nin the Compass of the Atmosphere, vulgarly call'd the Air, in some\nmanner or other: That is the general.\nIt remains to enquire into the manner, which I resolve into two Kinds;\n     1. _Ordinary_, which I suppose to be his invisible Motions as a\n     Spirit; under which Consideration I suppose him to have an\n     unconfin'd, unlimited, unrestrain'd Liberty, as to the manner of\n     acting; and this either in Persons, by Possession; or in Things, by\n     Agitation.\n     2. _Extraordinary_; which I understand to be his Appearances in\n     borrowed Shapes and Bodies, or Shadows rather of Bodies; assuming\n     Speech, Figure, Posture, and Several Powers, of which we can give\n     little or no Account; in which extraordinary manner of Appearances,\n     he is either limited by a Superior Power, or limits himself\n     politically, as being not the Way most for his Interest or Purpose,\n     to act in his Business, which is more effectually done in his State\n     of Obscurity.\nHence we must suppose the _Devil_ has it very much in his own Choice,\nwhether to act in one Capacity, or in the other, or in both; that is to\nsay, of appearing, and not appearing, as he finds for his Purpose: In\nthis State of Invisibility, and under the Operation of these Powers and\nLiberties, he performs all his Functions and Offices, as _Devil_, as\nPrince of Darkness, as God of this World, as Tempter, Accuser, Deceiver,\nand all whatsoever other Names of Office, or Titles of Honour he is\nknown by.\nNow taking him in this large unlimited, or little limited State of\nAction, he is well call'd, _the God of this World_, for he has very much\nof the Attribute of Omnipresence, and may be said, _either by himself or\nhis Agents_, to be every where, and see every thing; that is to say,\nevery thing that is visible; for I cannot allow him any Share of\n_Omniscience_ at all.\nThat he ranges about every where, is _with us_, and sometimes _in us_,\nsees when he is not seen, hears when he is not heard, comes in without\nLeave, and goes out without Noise, is neither to be shut in or shut out,\nthat when he runs _from us_ we can't catch him, and when he runs _after\nus_ we can't escape him, is seen when he is not known, and is known when\nhe is not seen; all these things, and more, we have Knowledge enough\nabout to convince us of the Truth of them; so that, as I have said\nabove, he is certainly walking to and fro thro' the Earth, _&c._ after\n_some manner or other_, and in some Figure or other, visible or\ninvisible, as he finds Occasion. Now in order to make our History of him\ncomplete, the next Question before us is, how, and in what manner he\nacts with Mankind? how his Kingdom is carried on, and by what Methods he\ndoes his Business, for he certainly has a great deal of Business to do;\nhe is not an idle Spectator, nor is he walking about _incognito_, and\ncloth'd in Mist and Darkness, purely in Kindness to us, that we should\nnot be frighted at him; but 'tis in Policy, that he may act\nundiscover'd, that he may see and not be seen, may play his Game in the\ndark, and not be detected in his Roguery; that he may prompt Mischief,\nraise Tempests, blow up Coals, kindle Strife, embroil Nations, use\nInstruments, and not be known to have his Hand in any thing, when at the\nsame time he really has a Hand in every thing.\nSome are of Opinion, _and I among the rest_, that if the _Devil_ was\npersonally and visibly present among us, and we conversed with him Face\nto Face, we should be so familiar with him in a little time, that his\nugly Figure would not affect us at all, that his Terrors would not\nfright us, or that we should any more trouble our selves about him,\nthan we did with the last great Comet in 1678, which appear'd so long\nand so constantly without any particular known Event, that at last we\ntook no more Notice of it than of the other ordinary Stars which had\nappear'd before we or our Ancestors were born.\nNor indeed should we have much Reason to be frighted at him, or at least\nnone of those silly Things could be said of him which we now amuse our\nselves about, and by which we set him up like a Scare-Crow to fright\nChildren and old Women, to fill up old Stories, make Songs and Ballads,\nand in a Word, carry on the low priz'd Buffoonery of the common People;\nwe should either see him in his Angelic Form, as he was from the\nOriginal, or if he has any Deformities entail'd upon him by the supreme\nSentence, and in Justice to the Deformity of his Crime, they would be of\na superior Nature, and fitted more for our Contempt as well as Horror,\nthan those weak fancied Trifles contrived by our antient Devil-raisers\nand Devil-makers, to feed the wayward Fancies of old Witches and\nSorcerers, who cheated the ignorant World with a _Devil_ of their own\nmaking, set forth, _in terrorem_, with Bat's Wings, Horns, cloven Foot,\nlong Tail, fork'd Tongue, and the like.\nIn the next Place, be his frightful Figure what it would, and his\nLegions as numerous as the Host of Heaven, we should see him still, as\nthe Prince of _Devils_, tho' monstrous as a Dragon, flaming as a Comet,\ntall as a Mountain, yet dragging his Chain after him equal to the utmost\nof his supposed Strength; always in Custody of his _Jailors_ the Angels,\nhis Power over-power'd, his Rage cow'd and abated, or at least aw'd and\nunder Correction, limited and restrain'd; in a Word, we should see him a\nvanquish'd Slave, his Spirit broken, his Malice, tho' not abated, yet\nHand-cuff'd and overpower'd, and he not able to work any Thing against\nus by Force; so that he would be to us but like the Lions in the Tower,\nencag'd and lock'd up, unable to do the Hurt he wishes to do, and that\nwe fear, or indeed any hurt at all.\nFrom hence 'tis evident, that 'tis not his Business to be public, or to\nwalk up and down in the World visibly, and in his own Shape; his Affairs\nrequire a quite different Management, as might be made apparent from the\nNature of Things, and the Manner of our Actings, as Men, either with our\nselves or to one another.\nNor could he be serviceable in his Generation, as a public Person as now\nhe is, or answer the End of his Party who employ him, and who, if he was\nto do their Business in public, as he does in private, would not be able\nto employ him at all.\nAs in our modern Meetings for the Propagation of Impudence and other\nVirtues, there would be no Entertainment and no Improvement for the Good\nof the Age, if the People did not all appear in Masque, and conceal'd\nfrom the common Observation; so neither could _Satan_ (from whose\nManagement those more happy Assemblies are taken as Copies of a glorious\nOriginal) perform the usual and necessary Business of his Profession, if\nhe did not appear wholly in Covert and under needful Disguises; how, but\nfor the Convenience of his Habit, could he call himself into so many\nShapes, act on so many different Scenes, and turn so many Wheels of\nState in the World, as he has done? as a meer profess'd _Devil_ he could\ndo nothing.\nHad he been oblig'd always to act the meer Devil in his own Clothes, and\nwith his own Shape, appearing uppermost in all Cafes and Places, he\ncould never have preach'd in so many Pulpits, presided in so many\nCouncils, voted in so many Committees, sat in so many Courts, and\ninfluenc'd so many Parties and Factions in Church and State, as we have\nReason to believe he has done in our Nation, and in our Memories too, as\nwell as in other Nations and in more antient Times. The Share Satan has\nhad in all the weighty Confusions of the Times, ever since the first\nAges of Christianity in the World, has been carried on with so much\nSecresy, and so much with an Air of Cabal and Intrigue, that nothing can\nhave been manag'd more subtilly and closely, and in the same Manner has\nhe acted in our Times, in order to conceal his Interest, and conceal the\nInfluence he has had in the Councils of the World.\nHad it been possible for him to have raised the Flames of Rebellion and\nWar so often in this Nation, as he certainly has done? Could he have\nagitated the Parties on both Sides, and inflam'd the Spirits of three\nNations, if he had appears in his own Dress, a meer naked DEVIL? It is\nnot the Devil as a _Devil_ that does the Mischief, but the _Devil_ in\nMasquerade, _Satan_ in full Disguise, and acting at the Head of civil\nConfusion and Distraction.\nIf History may be credited, the _French_ Court at the Time of our old\nConfusions was made the Scene of Satan's Politicks, and prompted both\nParties in _England_ and in _Scotland_ also to quarrel, and how was it\ndone? Will any Man offer to scandalize the _Devil_ so much as to say, or\nso much as to suggest that _Satan_ had no Hand in it all? Did not the\n_Devil_, by the Agency of Cardinal _Richlieu_, send 400000 Crowns at one\nTime, and 600000 at another, to the _Scots_, to raise an Army and march\nboldly into _England?_ and did not the same _Devil_ at the same time, by\nother Agents, remit 800000 Crowns to the other Party, in order to raise\nan Army to fall upon the _Scots_? nay, did not the _Devil_ with the\nsame Subtilty send down the Archbishop's Order to impose the\nService-Book upon the People in _Scotland_, and at the same Time raise a\nMob against it, in the great Church (at St. _Giles_'s)? Nay, did not he\nactually, in the Person of an old Woman (his favourite Instrument) throw\nthe three-leg'd Stool at the Service-Book, and animate the zealous\nPeople to take up Arms for Religion, and turn Rebels for God Sake?\nAll these happy and successful Undertakings, tho' 'tis no more to be\ndoubted they were done by the Agency of _Satan_, and in a very\nsurprizing Manner too, yet were all done in secret, by what I call\nPossession and Injection, and by the Agency and Contrivance of such\nInstruments, or by the _Devil_ in the Disguise of such Servants as he\nfound out fitted to be employ'd in his Work, and who he took a more\neffectual Care in concealing of.\nBut we shall have Occasion to touch all this Part over again, when we\ncome to discourse of the particular Habits and Disguises which the\n_Devil_ has made use of, all along in the World, the better to cover his\nActions, and to conceal his being concern'd in them.\nIn the mean Time the Cunning or Artifice the _Devil_ makes use of in all\nthese Things is in it self very considerable; 'tis an old Practice of\nhis using, and he has gone on in diverse Measures, for the better\nconcealing himself in it; which Measures, tho' he varies sometimes, as\nhis extraordinary Affairs require, yet they are in all Ages much the\nsame, and have the same Tendency; namely, that he may get all his\nBusiness carried on by the Instrumentality of Fools; that he may make\nMankind Agents in their own Destruction, and that he may have all his\nWork done in such a Manner as that he may seem to have no Hand in it;\nnay he contrives so well, that the very Name _Devil_ is put upon his\nopposite Party, and the Scandal of the black Agent lies all upon them.\nIn order then to look a little into his Conduct, let us enquire into the\ncommon Mistakes about him, see what Use is made of them to his\nAdvantage, and how far Mankind is imposed upon in those Particulars, and\nto what Purpose.\nCHAP. IV.\n_Of Satan's Agents or Missionaries, and their Actings upon and in the\n     Minds of Men in his Name._\nInfinite Advantages attend the _Devil_ in his retired Government, as\nthey respect the Management of his Interests, and the carrying on his\nabsolute Monarchy in the World; particularly as it gives him room to act\nby the Agency of his inferior Ministers and Messengers, call'd on many\nOccasions _his Angels_, of whom he has an innumerable _Multitude_, at\nhis Command, enough, for ought we know, to spare one to attend every Man\nand Woman now alive in the World; and of whom, if we may believe our\nsecond sight Christians, the Air is always as full, as a Beam of the\nEvening Sun is of Insects, where they are ever ready for Business, and\nto go and come as their great Governor issues out Orders for their\nDirections.\nThese, as they are all of the same spirituous Quality with himself, and\nconsequently invisible like him, _except as above_, are ready upon all\nOccasions to be sent to _and into_ any such Person, and for such\nPurposes, _superior Limitations only excepted_, as the grand Director of\n_Devils_, (The _Devil_ properly so call'd guides them;) and be the\nSubject or the Object what it will, _that is to say_, be the Person they\nare sent to, _or into, as above_, who it will, and the Business the\nMessenger is to do what it will, they are sufficiently qualified; for\nthis is a Particular to Satan's Messengers or Agents, that they are not\nlike us humane _Devils_ here in the World, some bred up one Way, some\nanother, some of one Trade, some of another, and consequently some fit\nfor some Business, some for another, some good for something, and some\ngood for nothing, but his People are every one fit for every Thing, can\nfind their Way every where, and are a Match for every Body they are sent\nto; in a Word, there are no _foolish Devils_, they are all fully\nqualified for their Employment, fit for any thing he sets them about,\nand very seldom mistake their Errand or fail in the Business they are\nsent to do.\nNor is it strange at all, that the _Devil_ should have such a numberless\nTrain of Deputy _Devils_ to act under him; for it must be acknowledged\nhe has a great deal of Business upon his Hands, a vast deal of Work to\ndo, abundance of public Affairs under his Direction, and an infinite\nVariety of particular Cases always before him; _for Example_.\nHow many Governments in the World are wholly in his Administration? how\nmany Divans and great Councils under his Direction? nay, I believe,\n'twould be hard to prove that there is or has been one Council of State\nin the World for many hundred Years past, down to the Year 1713, (we\ndon't pretend to come nearer home) where the _Devil_ by himself, or his\nAgents in one Shape or another, has not sat as a Member, if not taken\nthe Chair.\nAnd tho' some learn'd Authors may dispute this Point with me, by giving\nsome Examples where the Councils of Princes have been acted by a better\nHand, and where Things have been carried against _Satan_'s Interest, and\neven to his great Mortification, it amounts to no more than this;\nnamely, that in such Cases the _Devil_ has been out-voted; but it does\nnot argue but he might have been present there, and have push'd his\nInterest as far as he could, only that he had not the Success he\nexpected; for I don't pretend to say that he has never been\ndisappointed; but those Examples are so rare, and of so small\nSignification, that when I come to the Particulars, as I shall do in the\nSequel of this History, you will find them hardly worth naming; and\nthat, take it one Time with another, the _Devil_ has met with such a\nSeries of Success in all his Affairs, and has so seldom been baulk'd;\nand where he has met with a little Check in his Politicks, has\nnotwithstanding, so soon and so easily recover'd himself, regain'd his\nlost Ground, or replac'd himself in another Country when he has been\nsupplanted in one, that his Empire is far from being lessen'd in the\nWorld, for the last thousand Years of the Christian Establishment.\nSuppose we take an Observation from the Beginning of _Luther_, or from\nthe Year 1420, and call the Reformation a Blow to the _Devil_'s Kingdom,\nwhich before that was come to such a Height in Christendom, that 'tis a\nQuestion not yet thorowly decided, whether that Medley of Superstition\nand horrible Heresies, that Mass of Enthusiam and Idols call'd the\nCatholick Hierarchy, was a Church of God or a Church of the _Devil_;\nwhether it was an Assembly of Saints or a Synagogue of Satan: I say,\ntake that Time to be the _Epocha_ of Satan's Declension and of\nLucifer's falling from Heaven, that is, from the Top of his terrestrial\nGlory, yet whether he did not gain in the Defection of the _Greek_\nChurch about that Time and since, as much as he lost in the Reformation\nof the _Roman_, is what Authors are not yet agreed about, not reckoning\nwhat he has regain'd since of the Ground which he had lost even by the\nReformation, (_viz._) the Countries of the Duke of _Savoy_'s Dominion,\nwhere the Reformation is almost eaten out by Persecution; the whole\n_Valtoline_ and some adjacent Countries; the whole Kingdom of _Poland_\nand almost all _Hungary_; for since the last War the Reformation, as it\nwere, lies gasping for Breath, and expiring in that Country, also\nseveral large Provinces in _Germany_, as _Austria_, _Carinthia_, and the\nwhole Kingdom of _Bohemia_, where the Reformation once powerfully\nplanted, receiv'd its Death's Wound at the Battle of _Prague_, _Ann._\n1627, and languish'd but a very little while, died and was buried, and\ngood King POPERY reign'd in its stead.\nTo these Countries thus regain'd to Satan's infernal Empire, let us add\nhis modern Conquests and the Encroachments he has made upon the\nReformation in the present Age, which are, _however light we make of\nthem_, very considerable (_viz._) the Electorate of the _Rhine_ and the\n_Palatinate_, the one fallen to the House of _Bavaria_, and the other to\nthat of _Neuburgh_, both Popish; the Dutchy of _Deux Ponts_ fallen just\nnow to a popish Branch, the whole Electorate of _Saxony_ fallen under\nthe Power of popish Government by the Apostacy of their Princes, and\nmore likely to follow the Fate of _Bohemia_, whenever the diligent\n_Devil_ can bring his new Project in _Poland_ to bear, as 'tis more than\nprobable he will do so some time or other, by the growing Zeal as well\nas Power of (that House of Bigots) the House of _A----_.\nBut to sum up the dull Story; we must add in the Roll of the _Devil_'s\nConquests, the whole Kingdom of _France_, where we have in one Year\nseen, to the immortal Glory of the _Devil_'s Politicks, that his\nMeasures have prevailed to the total Extirpation of the Protestant\nChurches without a War; and that Interest which for 200 Years had\nsupported it self in spight of Persecutions, Massacres, five civil Wars\nand innumerable Battles and Slaughters, at last receiv'd its mortal\nWound from its own Champion _Henry_ IV. and sunk into utter Oblivion, by\n_Satan_'s most exquisite Management under the Agency of his two prime\nMinisters Cardinal _Richlieu_ and _Lewis_ the XIV, whom he entirely\npossess'd.\nThus far we have a melancholy View of the _Devil_'s new Conquests, and\nthe Ground he has regain'd upon the Reformation, in which his secret\nManagement has been so exquisite, and his Politicks so good, that could\nhe bring but one Thing to pass, which by his own former Mistake, (for\nthe _Devil_ is not infallible) he has rendred impossible, he would bring\nthe Protestant Interest so near its Ruin, that Heaven would be, _as it\nwere_, put to the Necessity of working by Miracle to prevent it; _the\nCase is thus_.\nAntient Historians tell us, and from good Authority, that the DEVIL\nfinding it for his Interest to bring his favourite _Mahomet_ upon the\nStage, and spread the victorious Half-Moon upon the Ruin of the Cross,\nhaving with great Success, rais'd first the _Saracen_ Empire, and then\nthe _Turkish_ to such a Height, as that the Name of Christian seemed to\nbe extirpated in those two Quarters of the World, which were then not\nthe greatest only, but by far the most powerful, I mean _Asia_ and\n_Africa_; having totally laid wast all those antient and flourishing\nChurches of _Africa_, the Labours of St. _Cyprian_, _Tertullian_, St.\n_Augustine_, and 670 Christian Bishops and Fathers, who govern'd there\nat once, also all the Churches of _Smyrna_, _Philadelphia_, _Ephesus_,\n_Sardis_, _Antioch_, _Laodicea_, and innumerable others in _Pontus_,\n_Bithynia_, and the Provinces of the lesser _Asia_.\nThe _Devil_ having, I say, finish'd these Conquests so much to his\nSatisfaction, began to turn his Eyes Northward, and tho' he had a\nconsiderable Interest in the _Whore of Babylon_, and had brought his\nPower by the Subjection of the _Roman_ Hierarchy to a great Height, yet\nfinding the Interest of _Mahomet_ most suitable to his _devilish_\nPurposes, as most adapted to the Destruction of Mankind, and laying\nwaste the World, he resolv'd to espouse the growing Power of the _Turk_,\nand bring him in upon _Europe_ like a Deluge.\nIn order to this, and to make Way for an easy Conquest, like a true\n_Devil_ he work'd under Ground, and sap'd the Foundation of the\nChristian Power, by sowing Discord among the reigning Princes of\n_Europe_; that so envying one another they might be content to stand\nstill and look on while the _Turk_ devoured them one by one, and at last\nmight swallow them up all.\nThis _devilish_ Policy took to his Heart's Content; the Christian\nPrinces stood still, stupid, dozing, and unconcern'd, till the Turk\nconquered _Thrace_, over-run _Servia_, _Macedonia_, _Bulgaria_, and all\nthe Remains of the _Grecian_ Empire, and at last the Imperial City of\n_Constantinople_ it self.\nFinding this politic Method so well answer his Ends, the _Devil_, who\nalways improves upon the Success of his own Experiments, resolv'd from\nthat time to lay a Foundation for the making those Divisions and\nJealousies of the Christian Princes immortal; whereas they were at\nfirst only personal, and founded in private Quarrels between the Princes\nrespectively; such as _Emulation_ of one another's Glory, _Envy_ at the\nextraordinary Valour, or other Merit of this or that Leader, or\n_Revenge_ of some little Affront; for which notwithstanding, so great\nwas the Piety of Christian Princes in those Days, that they made no\nScruple to sacrifice whole Armies, yea, Nations, to their Piques and\nprivate Quarrels, _a certain Sign whose Management they were under_.\nThese being the Causes by which the DEVIL first sow'd the Seeds of\nMischief among them, and the Success so well answering his Design, he\ncould not but wish to have the same Advantage always ready at his Hand;\nand therefore he resolv'd to order it so, that these Divisions, which,\nhowever useful to him, were only personal, and consequently temporary,\nlike an Annual in the Garden, which must be rais'd anew every Season,\nmight for the future be national, and consequently durable and immortal.\nTo this end it was necessary to lay the Foundation of eternal Feud, not\nin the Humours and Passions of Men only, but in the Interests of\nNations: The Way to do this was to form and state the Dominion of those\nPrinces, by such a Plan drawn in Hell, and laid out from a Scheme truly\npolitical, of which the _Devil_ was chief Engineer; that the Divisions\nshould always remain, being made a natural Consequence of the Situation\nof the Country, the Temper of their People, the Nature of their\nCommerce, the Climate, the Manner of living, or something which should\nfor ever render it impossible for them to unite.\nThis, I say, was a Scheme truly infernal, in which the _Devil_ was as\ncertainly the principal Operator, to illustrate great Things by small,\nas ever _John_ of _Leyden_ was of the High _Dutch_ Rebellion, or Sir\n_John B------t_ of the late Project, called the _South-Sea_ Stock. Nor\ndid this Contrivance of the _Devil_ at all dishonour his Author, or the\nSuccess appear unworthy of the Undertaker; for we see it not only answer\nthe End, and made the _Turk_ victorious at the same Time, and formidable\nto _Europe_ ever after, but it works to this Day, the Foundation of the\nDivisions remains in all the several Nations, and that to such a Degree\nthat it is impossible they should unite.\nThis is what I hinted before, in which the _Devil_ was mistaken, and is\nanother instance that he knows nothing of what is to come; for this very\nFoundation of immortal Jealousy and Discord between the several Nations\nof _Spain_, _France_, _Germany_, and others, which the _Devil_ himself\nwith so much Policy contriv'd, and which serv'd his Interests so long,\nis now the only Obstruction to his Designs, and prevents the entire Ruin\nof the Reformation; for tho' the reform'd Countries are very Powerful,\nand some of them, as _Great Britain_ and _Prussia_ is particularly, more\npowerful than ever; yet it cannot be said that the Protestant Interests\nin general are stronger than formerly, or so strong as they were in 1623\nunder the victorious Arms of the _Swede_; On the other Hand, were it\npossible that the Popish Powers, to wit, of _France_, _Spain_,\n_Germany_, _Italy_ and _Poland_, which are intirely Popish, could\nheartily unite their Interests, and should join their Powers to attack\nthe Protestants, the latter would find it very difficult, if not\nimpossible, to defend themselves.\nBut as fatal as such a Union of the Popish Powers would be, and as\nuseful as it would be to the _Devil_'s Cause at this time, not the\n_Devil_ with all his Angels are able to bring it to pass; no, not with\nall his Craft and Cunning; he divided them, but he can't unite them; so\nthat even just as 'tis with Men, so 'tis with _Devils_, they may do in\nan Hour what they can't undo in an Age.\nThis may comfort those faint-hearted Christians among us, who cry out of\nthe Danger of a religious War in _Europe_, and what terrible Things will\nhappen when _France_, and _Spain_, and _Germany_, and _Italy_, and\n_Poland_ shall all unite; let this Answer satisfy them, The _Devil_\nhimself can never make _France_ and _Spain_, or _France_ and the Emperor\nunite; jarring Humours may be reconcil'd, but jarring Interests never\ncan: They may unite so as to make Peace, _tho' that can hardly be long_,\nbut never so as to make Conquests together; they are too much afraid of\none another, for one to bear, that any Addition of Strength should come\nto the other. But this is a Digression. We shall find the _Devil_\nmistaken and disappointed too on several other Occasions, as we go\nalong.\nI return to Satan's Interest in the several Governments and Nations, by\nvertue of his Invisibility, and which he carries on by Possession; 'tis\nby this Invisibility that he presides in all the Councils of _foreign\nPowers_, (for we never mean our own, that we always premise;) and what\ntho' it is alledged by the Criticks, that he does not preside, because\nthere is always a President; I say, if he is not in the President's\nChair, yet if he be in the President himself, the Difference is not\nmuch; and if he does not vote as a Counsellor, if he votes in the\nCounsellor, 'tis much the same; and here, as it was in the Story of\n_Ahab_ the King of _Israel_, as he was a _lying Spirit_ in the Mouths of\n_all his Prophets_, so we find him a Spirit of some particular evil\nQuality or other, in all the Transactions and Transactors on that Stage\nof Life we call the State.\nThus he was a dissembling Spirit in _Char._ IX. a turbulent Spirit in\n_Char._ V. Emperors; a bigotted Spirit of Fire and Faggot in our Queen\n_Mary_; an apostate Spirit in _Hen._ IV.; a cruel Spirit in _Peter_ of\n_Castile_; a revengeful Spirit in _Ferdinand_ II.; a _Phaeton_ in\n_Lewis_ XIV.; a _Sardanapalus_ in _C------_ II.\nIn the Great Men of the World, take them a degree lower than the Class\nof Crown'd Heads, he has the same secret Influence; and hence it comes\nto pass, that the greatest Heroes, and Men of the highest Character for\nAtchievements of Glory, either by their Virtue or Valour, however they\nhave been crowned with Victories, and elevated by human Tongues,\nwhatever the most consummate Virtues or good Qualities they have been\nknown by, yet they have always had some Devil or other in them to\npreserve _Satan_'s Claim to them uninterrupted, and prevent their Escape\nout of his Hands; thus we have seen a bloody Devil in a _D'Alva_; a\nprofligate Devil in a _Buckingham_; a lying, artful, or politick Devil\nin a _Richlieu_; a treacherous Devil in a _Mazarin_; a cruel, merciless\nDevil in a _Cortez_; a debauch'd Devil in an _Eugene_; a conjuring Devil\nin a _Luxemburg_; and a covetous Devil in a _M---------h_: In a word,\ntell me the Man, I tell you the Spirit that reign'd in him.\nNor does he thus carry on his secret Management by Possession in Men of\nthe first Magnitude only, but have you not had Evidences of it among our\nselves? how has he been a _lying_ Spirit in the Mouths of our Prophets,\na factious Spirit in the Heads of our Politicians, a profuse _Devil_ in\na _B-----s_, a corrupt Devil in _M-----_, a proud Spirit in my Lord\n_Plausible_, a bullying Spirit in my Lord _Bugbear_, a talkative Spirit\nin his Grace the D---- of _Rattle-hall_, a scribling Spirit in my Lord\n_H------_, a run-away Spirit in my Lord _Frightful_; and so thro' a long\nRoll of Heroes, whose exceeding, and particular Qualifications proclaim\nloudly what Handle the _Devil_ took them by, and how fast he held them;\nfor these were all Men of ancient Fame, I hope you know that.\nFrom Men of Figure, we descend to the Mob, and 'tis there the same\nthing; Possession, like the Plague, is _Morbus Pleb\u00e6i_; not a Family but\nhe is a Spirit of Strife and Contention among them; not a Man but he has\na Part in him; he is a drunken _Devil_ in one, a whoring _Devil_ in\nanother, a thieving _Devil_ in a third, a lying _Devil_ in the fourth,\nand so on, to a thousand, and a hundred thousand, _ad infinitum_.\nNay, even the Ladies have their Share in the Possession; and if they\nhave not the _Devil_ in their Heads, or in their Tails, in their Faces\nor their Tongues, it must be some poor despicable She-devil that Satan\ndid not think it worth his while to meddle with; and the Number of those\nthat are below his Operation, I doubt is very small. But that Part I\nhave much more to say to in its Place.\nFrom Degrees of Persons, to Professions and Employments, 'tis the same;\nwe find the _Devil_ is a true Posture-master, he assumes any Dress,\nappears in any Shape, counterfeits every Voice, acts upon every Stage;\nhere he wears a Gown, there a long Robe; here he wears the Jack-Boots,\nthere the Small-Sword; is here an _Enthusiast_, there a _Buffoon_; on\nthis Side he acts the _Mountebank_, on that Side the _Merry-Andrew_;\nnothing comes amiss to him, from the Great _Mogul_, to the _Scaramouch_;\nthe _Devil_ is in them, more or less, and plays his Game so well that he\nmakes sure Work with 'em all: He knows where the _Common Foible_ lies,\nwhich is UNIVERSAL PASSION, what Handle to take hold of every Man by,\nand how to cultivate his Interest so, as not to fail of his End, or\nmistake the Means.\nHow then can it be deny'd but that his acting thus _in tenebris_, and\nkeeping out of the sight of the World, is abundantly his Interest, and\nthat he could do nothing, comparatively speaking, by any other Method?\nWhat would this publick Appearance have signified? Who would have\nentertain'd him in his own proper Shape and Person? Even B---- _B----_\nhimself, tho' all the World knows him to have a foolish _Devil_ in him,\nwould not have been Fool enough to have taken him into his Service, if\nhe had known him: And my Lord _Simpleton_ also, who _Satan_ has set up\nfor a cunning Fool, seems to have it sit much better upon him now he\npasses for a Fool of Art, than it should have done if the naked DEVIL\nhad come and challenged him for a Fool in Nature.\nInfinite Variety illustrate the _Devil_'s Reign among the Sons of Men;\nall which he manages with admirable Dexterity, and a Slight particular\nto himself, by the mere Advantage of his present conceal'd Situation,\nand which, had he been obliged to have appear'd in Publick, had been all\nlost, and he capable of just nothing at all, or at least of nothing more\nthan the other ordinary Politicians of Wickedness could have done\nwithout him.\nNow, Authors are much divided as to the manner how the _Devil_ manages\nhis proper Instruments for Mischief; for Satan has a great many Agents\nin the Dark, who neither have the DEVIL in them, nor are they much\nacquainted with him, and yet he serves himself of them, whether of their\nFolly, or of that other Frailty call'd Wit, 'tis all one, he makes them\ndo his Work, when they think they are doing their own; nay, so cunning\nis he in his guiding the weak Part of the World, that even when they\nthink they are serving God, they are doing nothing less or more than\nserving the _Devil_; nay, 'tis some of the nicest Part of his Operation,\nto make them believe they are serving God, when they do his Work. Thus\nthose who the Scripture foretold should persecute Christ's Church in the\nlatter Days, were to think they do God _good Service_: Thus the\nInquisition, (for Example,) it may be, at this time, in all the acts of\nChristian Cruelty which they are so famous for (if any of them are\nignorant enough not to know that they are _Devils_ incarnate) they may,\nfor ought we know, go on for God's sake; torture, murther, starve to\nDeath, mangle and macerate, and all for God, and God's Catholic Church;\nand 'tis certainly the _Devil_'s Master-piece to bring Mankind to such a\nPerfection of Devilism as that of the _Inquisition_ is; for _if the_\nDevil _had not been in them_, could they christen such a _Hell-fire_\nJudicature as the _Inquisition_ is, by the Name of _the Holy Office_?\nAnd so in Paganism, how could so many Nations among the poor _Indians_\noffer human Sacrifices to their Idols, and murther thousands of Men,\nWomen and Children, to appease this God of the Air, when he is angry, if\nthe _Devil_ did not act in them under the Vizor of Devotion?\nBut we need not go to _America_, or to the Inquisition, not to Paganism\nor to Popery either, to look for People that are sacrificing to the\n_Devil_, or that give their Peace-offerings to him, while they are\noffer'd upon God's Altar; are not our Churches (ay, and Meeting-houses\ntoo, as much as they pretend to be more sanctified than their\nNeighbours) full of _Devil_ Worshipers? Where do his Devotees gratulate\none another, and congratulate him, more than at Church? where, while\nthey hold up their Hands, and turn up their Eyes towards Heaven, they\nmake all their Vows to Satan, or at least to the fair _Devils_ his\nRepresentatives, which I shall speak of in their Place.\nDo not the Sons of God make Assignations with the Daughters of Men in\nthe very House of Worship? Do they not talk to them in the Language of\nthe Eyes? And what is at the Bottom of it, while one Eye is upon the\nPrayer-book, and the other adjusting their Dress? Are they not\nsacrificing to _Venus_ and _Mercury_, nay, and the very _Devil_ they\ndress at?\nLet any Man impartially survey the Church-Gestures, the Air, the\nPostures and the Behaviour; let him keep an exact Roll, and if I do not\nshew him two _Devil_ Worshipers for one true Saint, then the Word\n_Saint_ must have another Signification than I ever yet understood it\nby.\nThe Church (as a Place) is the Receptacle of the Dead, as well as the\nAssembly of the Living; what relates to those below, I doubt Satan, if\nhe would be so kind, could give a better Account of than I can; but as\nto the Superficies, I pretend to so much Penetration as to tell you,\nthat there are more Spectres, more Apparitions always there, than you\nthat know nothing of the matter may be aware of.\nI happen'd to be at an eminent Place of God's most devout Worship the\nother Day, with a Gentleman of my Acquaintance, who, I observed, minded\nvery little the Business he ought to come about; first I saw him always\nbusy staring about him and bowing this Way and that Way, nay, he made\ntwo or three bows and Scrapes when he was repeating the Responses to the\nTen Commandments, and assure you he made it correspond strangely, so\nthat the Harmony was not so broken in upon as you would expect it\nshould; thus; _Lord_, and a Bow to a fine Lady just come up to her Seat,\n_have Mercy upon us_; ---- three Bows to a Throng of Ladies that came\ninto the next Pew altogether, _and incline_ ---- then stop'd to make a\ngreat Scrape to my Lord ----, _our Hearts_, just then the Hearts of all\nthe Church were gone off from the Subject, for the Response was over, so\nhe huddled up the rest in Whispers, for _God a Mighty_ could hear him\nwell enough, _he said_, nay, as well as if he had spoken as loud as his\nNeighbours did.\nAfter we were come home, I ask'd him what he meant by all this, and what\nhe thought of it?\nHow could I help it, _said he_, I must not be rude.\nWhat, _says I_, rude to who?\nWhy, _says he_, there came in so many she _Devils_ I could not help it.\nWhat, _said I_, could not you help bowing when you were saying your\nPrayers?\nO Sir! _says he_, the Ladies would have thought I had slighted them, I\ncould not avoid it.\nLadies! _said I_, I thought you call'd them _Devils_ just now.\nAy, ay, _Devils_, _said he_, little charming Devils, but I must not be\nrude to them however.\nVery well, _said I_, then you would be rude to _God a Mighty_, because\nyou could not be rude to the Devil?\nWhy that's true, _said he_, but what can we do? there's no going to\nChurch as the Case stands now, if we must not worship the _Devil_ a\nlittle between whiles.\nThis is the Case indeed, and Satan carries his Point on every Hand; for\nif the fair speaking World, and the fair looking World are generally\n_Devils_, that is to say, are in his Management, we are sure the foul\nspeaking and the foul doing World are all on his Side, and you have then\nonly the fair-doing Part of the World that are out of his Class, and\nwhen we speak of them, _O how few!_\nBut I return to the _Devil_'s managing our wicked Part, for this he does\nwith most exquisite Subtilty; and this is one Part of it, (_viz._) he\nthrusts our Vices into our Virtues, by which he mixes the Clean and the\nUnclean, and thus by the Corruption of the one, poisons and debauches\nthe other, so that the Slave he governs cannot account for his own\ncommon Actions, and is fain to be oblig'd to his Maker to accept of the\nHeart without the Hands and Feet; to take, as we vulgarly express it,\n_the Will_ for the _Deed_, and if Heaven was not so good to come into\nthat half in half Service, I don't see but the _Devil_ would carry away\nall his Servants: Here indeed I should enter into a long Detail of\ninvoluntary Wickedness, which in short, is neither more or less than the\n_Devil_ in every Body, ay, in every one of you, (our Governors excepted)\ntake it as you please.\nWhat is our Language when we look back with Reflection and Reproach on\npast Follies? _I think I was bewitch'd_, I was _posses'd_, _certainly\nthe Devil was in me, or else I had never been such a Sot_: _Devil_ in\nyou, Sir! Ay, who doubts it; you may be sure the _Devil_ was in you, and\nthere he is still, and next Time he can catch you in the same Snare,\nyou'll be just the same SOT that you say you were before.\nIn short, the _Devil_ is too cunning for us, and manages us his own Way;\nhe governs the Vices of Men by his own Methods; tho' every Crime will\nnot make a Man a _Devil_, yet it must be owned that every Crime puts the\nCriminal in some Measure into the Devil's Power, gives him a Title to\nthe Man, and he treats him magisterially ever after.\nSome tell us every single Man, every individual has a _Devil_ attending\nhim, to execute the Orders of the (Grand Signior) Devil of the whole\nClan; that this attending _evil Angel_, for so he is call'd, sees every\nStep you take, is with you in every Action, prompts you to every\nMischief, and leaves you to do every Thing that is pernicious to your\nself; they also alledge that there is a good Spirit which attends him\ntoo, which latter is always accessary to every Thing that we do that is\ngood, and reluctant to evil; If this is true, how comes it to pass that\nthose two opposite Spirits do not quarrel about it when they are\npressing us to contrary Actions, one good and the other evil? and why\ndoes the evil tempting Spirit so often prevail? Instead of answering\nthis difficult Question, I shall only tell you, as to this Story of good\nand evil Angels attending every particular Person, 'tis a good Allegory\nindeed to represent the Struggle in the Mind of Man between good and\nevil Inclinations; but as to the rest, the best Thing I can say of it\nis, _that_ I think _'tis a Fib_.\nBut to take Things as they are, and only talk by way of natural\nConsequence, for to argue from Nature is certainly the best Way to find\nout the _Devil_'s Story; if there are good and evil Spirits attending\nus, that is to say, a good Angel and a _Devil_, then 'tis no unjust\nReproach upon any Body to say, when they follow the Dictates of the\nlatter, the _Devil_ is in them; or they are _Devils_; nay, I must carry\nit farther still, namely, that as the Generality and greatest Number of\nPeople do follow and obey the evil Spirit and not the good, and that the\npredominate Power is allowed to be the nominating Power; you must then\nallow, that in short, the greater Part of Mankind has the Devil in\nthem, and so I come to my Text.\nTo this Purpose give me leave to borrow a few Lines of a Friend on this\nvery Part of the Devil's Management.\n  To Places and Persons he suits his Disguises,\n    And dresses up all his Banditti,\n  Who as Pickpockets flock to a Country Assizes,\n    Croud up to the Court and the City.\n  They're at every Elbow and every Ear,\n    And ready at every call, Sir;\n  The vigilant Scout plants his Agents about,\n    And has something to do with us all, Sir.\n  In some he has Part, and in some he's the Whole,\n    And of some (like the Vicar of _Baddow_)\n  It can neither be said they have Body or Soul,\n    But only are _Devils_ in Shadow.\n  The Pretty and Witty, are Devils in Masque,\n    The Beauties are meer Apparitions;\n  The homely alone by their Faces are known,\n    And the Good by their ugly Conditions.\n  The Beaus walk about like the Shadows of Men.\n    And wherever he leads 'em they follow,\n  But tak'em and shak'em, there's not one in ten\n    But's as light as a Feather and hollow.\n  Thus all his Affairs he drives on in Disguise,\n    And he tickles Mankind with a Feather:\n  Creeps in at our Ears, and looks out at our Eyes,\n    And jumbles our Senses together.\n  He raises the Vapours, and prompts the Desires,\n    And to ev'ry dark Deed holds the Candle;\n  The Passions enflames and the Appetite fires,\n    And takes ev'ry Thing by the Handle.\n  Thus he walks up and down in compleat Masquerade,\n    And with every Company mixes,\n  Sells in every Shop, works at every Trade,\n    And ev'ry Thing doubtful perplexes.\nHow Satan comes by this governing Influence in the Minds and upon the\nActions of Men, is a Question I am not yet come to, nor indeed does it\nso particularly belong to the Devil's History, it seems rather a\nPolemick, so it may pass at School among the Metaphysicks, and puzzle\nthe Heads of our Masters; wherefore I think to write to the learned Dr.\n_B----_ about it, imploring his most sublime Haughtiness, that when his\nother more momentous Avocations of Pedantry and Pedagogism will give him\nan Interval from Wrath and Contention, he will set apart a Moment to\nconsider human Nature Deviliz'd, and give us a Mathematical Anatomical\nDescription of it; with a Map of Satan's Kingdom in the Microcosm of\nMankind, and such other Illuminations as to him and his Contemporaries\n---- and, ---- _&c._ in their great Wisdom shall seem meet.\nCHAP. V.\n_Of the_ Devil_'s Management in the Pagan Hierarchy by Omens, Entrails,\n     Augurs, Oracles, and such like Pageantry of Hell; and how they went\n     off the Stage at last by the Introduction of true Religion._\nI have adjourn'd, not finished, my Account of the _Devil_'s secret\nManagement by _Possession_, and shall reassume it, in its Place; but I\nmust take leave to mention some other Parts of his retir'd Scheme, by\nwhich he has hitherto manag'd Mankind, and the first of these is by that\nFraud of all Frauds call'd Oracle.\nHere his Trumpet yielded an uncertain Sound for some Ages, and like what\nhe was, and according to what he practised from the Beginning, he\ndeliver'd out Falshood and Delusion by Retale: The Priests of _Apollo_\nacted this Farce for him to a great Nicety at _Delphos_; there were\ndivers others at the same Time, and some, which to give the Devil his\ndue, he had very little Hand in, as we shall see presently.\nThere were also some smaller, some greater, some more, some less famous\nPlaces where those Oracles were seated, and Audience given to the\nEnquirers, in all which the _Devil_, or some Body for him, _Permissu\nSuperiorum_, for either vindictive or other hidden Ends and Purposes,\nwas allow'd to make at least a Pretension to the Knowledge of Things to\ncome; but, as publick Cheats generally do, they acted in Masquerade, and\ngave such uncertain and inconsistent Responses, that they were oblig'd\nto use the utmost Art to reconcile Events to the Prediction, even after\nthings were come to pass.\nHere the Devil was a _lying Spirit_, in a particular and extraordinary\nmanner, in the Mouths of all the Prophets; and yet he had the Cunning to\nexpress himself so, that whatever happen'd, the Oracle was suppos'd to\nhave meant as it fell out; and so all their Augurs, Omens and Voices, by\nwhich the Devil amus'd the World, not at that Time only, but since, have\nbeen likewise interpreted.\n_Julian_ the Apostate dealt mightily in these Amusements, but the Devil,\nwho neither wish'd his Fall, or presag'd it to him, evidenc'd that he\nknew nothing of _Julian_'s Fate; for that, as he sent almost to all the\nOracles of the East, and summon'd all the Priests together to inform him\nof the Success of his _Persian_ Expedition, they all, like _Ahab_'s\n_Prophets_, having a lying Spirit in them, encourag'd him and promis'd\nhim Success.\nNay, all the ill Omens which disturb'd him, they presag'd good from;\n_for Example_, he was at a prodigious Expence when he was at _Antioch_\nto buy up white Beasts, and white Fowls, for Sacrifices, and for\npredicting from the Entrails; from whence the _Antiochians_, in\ncontempt, call'd him _Victimarius_; but whenever the Entrails foreboded\nEvil, the cunning Devil made the Priests put a different Construction\nupon them, and promise him Good: When he entred into the Temple of the\n_Genij_ to offer Sacrifice, one of the Priests dropt down dead; this,\nhad it had any Signification more than a Man falling dead of an\nApoplectic, would have signified something fatal to _Julian_, who made\nhimself a Brother Sacrist or Priest; whereas the Priests turn'd it\npresently to signify the Death of his Colleague, the Consul _Sallust_\nwhich happen'd just at the same Time, tho' eight hundred Miles off; so\nin another Case, _Julian_ thought it ominous that he, who was _Augustus_\nshould be nam'd with two other Names of Persons, both already dead; the\nCase was thus, the Stile of the Emperor was _Julianus Foelix\nAugustus_, and two of his principal Officers were _Julianus_ and\n_Foelix_; now both _Julianus_ and _Foelix_ died within a few Days of\none another, which disturb'd Him much, who was the third of the three\nNames; but his flattering _Devil_ told him it all imported Good to him\n(_viz._) that tho' _Julianus_ and _Foelix_ should die, _Augustus_\nshould be immortal.\nThus whatever happen'd, and whatever was foretold, and how much soever\nthey differ'd from one another, the lying Spirit was sure to reconcile\nthe _Prediction_ and the _Event_, and make them at least seem to\ncorrespond in Favour of the Person enquiring.\nNow we are told Oracles are ceased, and the _Devil_ is farther limited\nfor the Good of Mankind, not being allow'd to vent his Delusions by the\nMouths of the Priests and Augurs, as formerly: I will not take upon me\nto say how far they are really ceas'd, more than they were before; I\nthink 'tis much more reasonable to believe there was never any Reality\nin them at all, or that any Oracle ever gave out any Answers but what\nwere the Invention of the Priests and the Delusions of the DEVIL; I have\na great many antient Authors on my Side in this Opinion, as _Eusebius_,\n_Tertullian_, _Aristotle_, and others, who as they liv'd so near the\nPagan Times, and when even some of those Rites were yet in Use, they had\nmuch more Reason to know, and could probably pass a better Judgment upon\nthem; nay _Cicero_ himself ridicules them in the openest manner; again,\nother Authors descend to Particular and shew how the Cheat was manag'd\nby the Heathen Sacrists and Priests, and in what enthusiastic manner\nthey spoke; namely, by going into the hollow Images, such as the brazen\nBull and the Image of _Apollo_, and how subtilly they gave out _dubious_\nand _ambiguous_ Answers; that when the People did not find their\nExpectations answer'd by the Event, they might be imposed upon by the\nPriests, and confidently told they did not rightly understand the\nOracle's Meaning: However, I cannot say but that indeed there are some\nAuthors of good Credit too, who will have it that there was a real\nprophetic Spirit in the Voice or Answers given by the Oracles, and that\noftentimes they were miraculously exact in those Answers; and they give\nthat of the _Delphic_ Oracle answering the Question which was given\nabout _Croesus_ for an Example, _viz._ what _Croesus_ was doing at\nthat time? _to wit_, that he was boiling a Lamb and the Flesh of a\nTortoise together, in a brass Vessel, or Boiler, with a Cover of the\nsame Metal; that is to say, in a Kettle with a brass Cover.\nTo affirm therefore, that they were all Cheats, a Man must encounter\nwith Antiquity, and set his private Judgment up against an establish'd\nOpinion; but 'tis no matter for that; if I do not see any thing in that\nreceiv'd Opinion capable of Evidence, much less of Demonstration, I must\nbe allow'd still to think as I do; others may believe as they list; I\nsee nothing hard or difficult in the Thing; the Priests, who were always\nhistorically inform'd of the Circumstances of the Enquirer, or at least\nsomething about them, might easily find some ambiguous Speech to make,\nand put some double _Entendre_ upon them, which upon the Event solv'd\nthe Credit of the Oracle, were it one way or other; and this they\ncertainly did, or we have room to think the DEVIL knows less of Things\nnow than he did in former Days.\nIt is true that by these Delusions the Priests got infinite Sums of\nMoney, and this makes it still probable that they would labour hard, and\nuse the utmost of their Skill to uphold the Credit of their Oracles; and\n'tis a full Discovery, as well of the Subtlety of the Sacrists, as of\nthe Ignorance and Stupidity of the People, in those early Days of\n_Satan_'s Witchcraft; to see what merry Work the _Devil_ made with the\nWorld, and what gross Things he put upon Mankind: Such was the Story of\nthe _Dordonian_ Oracle in _Epirus_, _viz_. That two _Pigeons_ flew out\nof _Thebes_ (_N. B._ it was the _Egyptian Thebes_) from the Temple of\n_Belus_, erected there by the antient Sacrists, and that one of these\nfled Eastward into _Lybia_, and the Desarts of _Africk_, and the other\ninto _Greece_, namely, to _Dordona_, and these communicated the divine\nMysteries to one another, and afterwards gave mystical Solutions to the\ndevout Enquirers; first the _Dordonian_ Pigeon perching upon an Oak\nspoke audibly to the People there, that the Gods commanded them to build\nan Oracle, or Temple, to _Jupiter_, in that Place; which was accordingly\ndone: The other Pigeon did the like on the Hill in _Africa_, where it\ncommanded them to build another to _Jupiter Ammon_, or _Hammon_.\nWise _Cicero_ contemned all this, and, as Authors tell us, ridiculed the\nAnswer, which, as I have hinted above, the Oracle gave to _Croesus_\nproving that the Oracle it self was a _Liar_, that it could not come\nfrom _Apollo_, for that _Apollo_ never spoke _Latin_: In a Word,\n_Cicero_ rejected them all, and _Demosthenes_ also mentions the Cheats\nof the _Oracles_; when speaking of the Oracle of _Apollo_, he said,\n_Pithia Philippiz'd_; that is, that when the Priests were brib'd with\nMoney, they always gave their Answers in favour of _Philip_ of\n_Macedon_.\nBut that which is most strange to me is, that in this Dispute about the\nReality of Oracles, the Heathen who made use of them are the People who\nexpose them, and who insist most positively upon their being Cheats and\nImpostors, as in particular those mentioned above; while the Christians\nwho reject them, yet believe they did really foretel Things, answer\nQuestions, _&c._ only with this Difference, that the Heathen Authors who\noppose them, insist that 'tis all Delusion and Cheat, and charge it upon\nthe Priests; and the Christian Opposers insist that it was real, but\nthat the _Devil_, not the Gods, gave the Answers; and that he was\npermitted to do it by a superior Power, to magnify that Power in the\ntotal silencing them at last.\nBut, as I said before, I am with the Heathen here, against the Christian\nWriters, for I take it all to be a Cheat and Delusion: I must give my\nReason for it, or I do nothing; my Reason is this, I insist Satan is as\nblind in Matters of Futurity, as we are, and can tell nothing of what is\nto come; these Oracles often pretending to predict, could be nothing\nelse therefore but a Cheat form'd by the Money-getting Priests to amuse\nthe World, and bring Grist to their Mill: If I meet with any thing in my\nWay to open my Eyes to a better Opinion of them, I shall tell it you as\nI go on.\nOn the other hand, whether the _Devil_ really spake in those Oracles, or\nset the cunning Priests to speak for him; whether they predicted, or\nonly made the People believe they predicted; whether they gave Answers\nwhich came to pass, or prevail'd upon the People to believe that what\nwas said did come to pass, it was much at one, and fully answer'd the\n_Devil_'s End; namely, to amuse and delude the World; and as to do, or\nto cause to be done, is the same Part of Speech, so whoever did it, the\n_Devil_'s Interest was carried on by it, his Government preserv'd, and\nall the Mischief he could desire was effectually brought to pass, so\nthat every way they were the _Devil_'s Oracles, that's out of the\nQuestion.\nIndeed I have wonder'd sometimes why, since by this Sorcery the _Devil_\nperform'd such Wonders, that is, play'd so many Tricks in the World, and\nhad such universal Success, he should set up no more of them; but there\nmight be a great many Reasons given for that, too long to tire you with\nat present: 'Tis true, there were not many of them, and yet considering\nwhat a great deal of Business they dispatch'd, it was enough, for six or\neight Oracles were more than sufficient to amuse all the World: The\nchief Oracles we meet with in History are among the _Greeks_ and the\n_Romans_, _viz._\n     That of _Jupiter Ammon_, in _Lybia_, as above.\n     The _Dordonian_, in _Epirus_.\n     _Apollo Delphicus_, in the Country of _Phocis_ in _Greece_.\n     _Apollo Clavius_, in _Asia Minor_.\n     _Serapis_, in _Alexandria_ in _Egypt_.\n     _Trophomis_, in _B\u00e6otia_.\n     _Sybilla Cum\u00e6a_, in _Italy_.\n     _Diana_, at _Ephesus_.\n     _Apollo Daphneus_, at _Antioch_.\n     Besides many of lesser Note, in several other Places, as I have\n     hinted before.\nI have nothing to do here with the Story mentioned by _Plutarch_, of a\nVoice being heard at Sea, from some of the Islands call'd the\n_Echinades_, and calling upon one _Thamuz_, an _Egyptian_, who was on\nboard a Ship, bidding him, when he came to the _Palodes_, other Islands\nin the _Ionian_ Seas, tell them there that the great God PAN was dead;\nand when _Thamuz_ perform'd it, great Groanings, and Howlings, and\nLamentation were heard from the Shore.\nThis Tale tells but indifferently, tho' indeed it looks more like _a\nChristian Fable_, than a Pagan; because it seems as if made to honour\nthe Christian Worship, and blast all the Pagan Idolatry; and for that\nReason I reject it, the Christian Profession needing no such fabulous\nStuff to confirm it.\nNor is it true in fact, that the Oracles did cease immediately upon the\nDeath of Christ; but, as I noted before, the Sum of the Matter is this;\nthe Christian Religion spreading it self universally, as well as\nmiraculously, and that too _by the Foolishness of Preaching_, into all\nParts of the World, the Oracles ceas'd; that is to say, their Trade\nceas'd, their Rogueries were daily detected, the deluded People being\nbetter taught, came no more after them, and being asham'd, as well as\ndiscourag'd, they sneak'd out of the World as well as they could; in\nshort the Customers fell off, and the Priests, who were the Shopkeepers,\nhaving no Business to do, shut up their Shops, broke, and went away; the\nTrade and the Tradesmen were hiss'd off the Stage together; so that the\n_Devil_, who, it must be confess'd, got infinitely by the Cheat, became\nbankrupt, and was oblig'd to set other Engines at work, as other Cheats\nand Deceivers do, who when one Trick grows stale, and will serve no\nlonger, are forc'd to try another.\nNor was the _Devil_ to seek in new Measures; for tho' he could not give\nout his delusive Trash as he did before, in Pomp and State, with the\nSolemnity of a Temple and a Set of Enthusiasts call'd Priests, who plaid\na thousand Tricks to amuse the World, he then had Recourse to his old\n_Egyptian_ Method, which indeed was more antient than that of Oracles;\nand that was by Magic, Sorcery, Familiars, Witchcraft, and the like.\nOf this we find the people of the _South_, that is, of _Arabia_ and\n_Chaldea_ were the first, from whence we are told of the Wise Men, that\nis to say, Magicians, were call'd _Chaldeans_ and _Southsayers_. Hence\nalso we find _Ahaziah_ the King of _Israel_ sent to _Baalzebub_ the God\nof _Ekron_, to enquire whether he should live or die? This some think\nwas a kind of an Oracle, tho' others think it was only some over-grown\nMagician, who counterfeited himself to be a _Devil_, and obtain'd upon\nthat Idol-hunting Age to make a Cunning Man of him; and for that Purpose\nhe got himself made a Priest of _Baalzebub_, the God of _Ekron_, and\ngave out Answers in his Name. Thus those merry Fellows in _Egypt_,\n_Jannes_ and _Jambres_, are said to mimick _Moses_ and _Aaron_, when\nthey work'd the miraculous Plagues upon the _Egyptians_; and we have\nsome Instances in Scripture that support this, such as the Witch of\n_Endor_, the King _Manasses_, who dealt with the _Devil_ openly, and had\na Familiar; the Woman mentioned _Acts_ xvi. who had a Spirit of\n_Divination_, and who got Money by playing the Oracle; that is,\nanswering doubtful Questions, _&c._ which Spirit, or _Devil_, the\nApostles cast out.\nNow tho' it is true that the old Women in the World have fill'd us with\nTales, some improbable, others impossible; some weak, some ridiculous,\nand that this puts a general Discredit upon all the graver Matrons, who\nentertain us with Stories better put together, yet 'tis certain, and I\nmust be allow'd to affirm, that the _Devil_ does not disdain to take\ninto his Service many Troops of good _Old Women_, and Old Women-Men too,\nwho he finds 'tis for his Service to keep in constant Pay; to these he\nis found frequently to communicate his Mind, and oftentimes we find them\nsuch Proficients, that they know much more than the _Devil_ can teach\nthem.\nHow far our antient Friend _Merlin_, or the grave Matron his (Satan's)\nmost trusty and well-beloved Cousin and Counsellor, Mother _Shipton_,\nwere commissioned by him to give out their prophetic Oracles, and what\ndegree of Possession he may have arrived to in them upon their Midnight\nExcursions, I will not undertake to prove; but that he might be\nacquainted with them both, as well as with several of our modern\nGentlemen, I will not deny neither.\nI confess it is not very incongruous with the _Devil_'s Temper, or with\nthe Nature of his Business, to shift hands; possibly he found that he\nhad tried the World with Oracular Cheats; that Men began to be forfeited\nwith them, and grew sick of the Frauds which were so frequently\ndetected; that it was time to take new Measures, and contrive some new\nTrick to Bite the World, that he might not be expos'd to Contempt; or\nperhaps he saw the Approach of new Light, which the Christian Doctrine\nbringing with it began to spread in the Minds of Men; that it would\nout-shine the dim burning _ignis fatuus_, with which he had so long\ncheated Mankind, and was afraid to stand it, lest he should be mobb'd\noff the Stage by his own People, when their Eyes should begin to open:\nThat upon this foot he might in Policy withdraw from those old Retreats\nthe Oracles, and restrain those Responses before they lost all their\nCredit; for we find the People seem'd to be at a mighty Loss for some\ntime, for want of them, so that it made them run up and down to\nConjurers, and _Man-Gossips_, to brazen Heads, speaking Calves, and\ninnumerable simple Things, so gross that they are scarce fit to be\nnamed, to satisfy the Itch of having their Fortunes told them, as we\ncall it.\nNow as the DEVIL is very seldom blind to his own Interest, and therefore\nthought fit to quit his old way of imposing upon the World by his\nOracles, only because he found the World began to be too wise to be\nimposed upon that way; so on the other hand, finding there was still a\nPossibility to delude the World, tho' by other Instruments, he no sooner\nlaid down his Oracles, and the solemn Pageantry, magnificent\nAppearances, and other Frauds of his Priests and Votaries, in their\nTemples and Shrines; but he set up a new Trade, and having, as I have\nsaid, Agents and Instruments sufficient for any Business that he could\nhave to employ them in, he begins in Corners, as the learned and merry\nDr. _Brown_ says, and exercises his minor Trumperies by way of his own\ncontriving, lifting a great Number of new-found Operators, such as\nWitches, Magicians, Diviners, Figure-casters, Astrologers, and such\ninferior Seducers.\nNow it is true, as that Doctor says, this was running into Corners, as\nif he had been expell'd his more triumphant way of giving Audience in\nForm, which for so many Ages had been allow'd him; yet I must add, that\nas it seem'd to be the DEVIL's own doing, from a right Judgment of his\nAffairs, which had taken a new Turn in the World, upon the shining of\nnew Lights from the Christian Doctrine, so it must be acknowledged the\n_Devil_ made himself amends upon Mankind, by the various Methods he\ntook, and the Multitude of Instruments he employ'd, and perhaps deluded\nMankind in a more fatal and sensible manner than he did before, tho' not\nso universally.\nHe had indeed before more Pomp and Figure put upon it, and he cheated\nMankind then in a Way of Magnificence and Splendor; but this was not in\nabove eight or ten principal Places, and not fifty Places in all, public\nor private; whereas now fifty thousand of his Angels and Instruments,\nvisible and invisible, hardly may be said to suffice for one Town or\nCity; but in short, as his invisible Agents fill the Air, and are at\nhand for Mischief on every Emergence, so his visible Fools swarm in\nevery Village, and you have scarce a Hamlet or a Town but his Emissaries\nare at Hand for Business; and which is still worse, in all Places he\nfinds Business; nay even where Religion is planted and seems to\nflourish; yet he keeps his Ground and pushes his Interest according to\nwhat has been said elsewhere upon the same Subject, that wherever\nReligion plants, the Devil plants close by it.\nNor, as I say, does he fail of Success, Delusion spreads like a Plague,\nand the Devil is sure of Votaries; like a true Mountebank, he can always\nbring a Croud about his Stage, and that some Times faster than other\nPeople.\nWhat I observe upon this Subject is this, that the World is at a strange\nLoss for want of the Devil; if it was not so, what's the Reason, that\nupon the silencing the Oracles, and Religion telling them that Miracles\nare ceas'd, and that God has done speaking by Prophets, they never\nenquire whether Heaven has established any other or new Way of\nRevelation, but away they ran with their Doubts and Difficulties to\nthese Dreamers of Dreams, Tellers of Fortunes, and personal Oracles to\nbe resolv'd; as if when they acknowledge the Devil is dumb, these could\nspeak; and as if the wicked Spirit could do more than the Good, the\n_Diabolical_ more than the _Divine_, or that Heaven having taken away\nthe DEVIL's Voice, had furnish'd him with an Equivalent, by allowing\nScolds, Termagants, and old weak and superannuated Wretches to speak for\nhim; for these are the People we go to now in our Doubts and\nEmergencies.\nWhile this Blindness continues among us, 'tis Nonsense to say that\nOracles are silenced, or the _Devil_ is dumb, for the _Devil_ gives\nAudience still by his Deputies; only as _Jeroboam_ made Priests of the\nmeanest of the People, so he is grown a little humble, and makes use of\nmeaner Instruments than he did before; for whereas the Priests of\n_Apollo_, and of _Jupiter_, were splendid in their Appearance, of grave\nand venerable Aspect, and sometimes of no mean Quality; now he makes use\nof Scoundrels and Rabble, Beggars and Vagabonds, old Hags, superannuated\nmiserable Hermits, Gypsies and Strollers, the Pictures of Envy and ill\nLuck.\nEither the _Devil_ is grown an ill Master, and gives but mean Wages,\nthat he can get no better Servants; or else Common Sense is grown very\nlow priz'd and contemptible; that such as these are fit Tools to\ncontinue the Succession of Fraud, and carry on the _Devil_'s Interest in\nthe World; for were not the Passions and Temper of Mankind deeply\npre-engaged in favour of this dark Prince, we could never suffer our\nselves to accept of his Favours by the Hands of such contemptible Agents\nas these! How do we receive his Oracles from an old Witch of particular\nEminence, and who we believe to be more than ordinarily inspir'd from\nHell; I say, we receive the Oracle with Reverence; that is to say, with\na kind of Horror, with regard to the Black Prince it comes from, and at\nthe same time turn our Faces away from the Wretch that mumbles out the\nAnswers, lest she should cast an _Evil Eye_, as we call it, upon us, and\nput a Devil into us when she plays the _Devil_ before us? How do we\nlisten to the Cant of those worst of Vagabonds the _Gypsies_, when at\nthe same time we watch our Hedges and Hen-roosts for fear of their\nthieving?\nEither the DEVIL uses us more like Fools than he did our Ancestors, or\nwe really are worse Fools than those Ages produced, for they were never\ndeluded by such low-priz'd _Devils_ as we are; by such despicable\n_Bridewell_ DEVILS, that are fitter for a Whipping-post than an Altar,\nand instead of being receiv'd as the Voice of an Oracle, should be sent\nto the House of Correction for Pick-pockets.\nNor is this accidental, and here and there one of these Wretches to be\nseen, but in short, if it has been in other Nations as it is with us, I\ndo not see that the DEVIL was able to get any better People into his\nPay, or at least very rarely: Where have we seen any thing above a\nTinker turn Wizard? and where have we had a Witch of Quality among us,\nMother _Je------gs_ excepted? and if she had not been more of something\nelse than a Witch, 'twas thought she had never got so much Money by her\nProfession.\nMagicians, Southsayers, Devil-raisers, and such People, we have heard\nmuch of, but seldom above the Degree of the meanest of the mean People,\nthe lowest of the lowest Rank: Indeed the Word _Wise Men_, which the\n_Devil_ wou'd fain have had his Agents honour'd with, was used a while\nin _Egypt_, and in _Persia_, among the _Chaldeans_, but it continued but\na little while, and never reach'd so far Northward as our Country; nor,\nhowever the _Devil_ has managed it, have many of our great Men, who have\nbeen most acquainted with him, ever been able to acquire the Title of\nWise Men.\nI have heard that in older Times, I suppose in good Queen _Bess_'s Days,\nor beyond, (for little is to be said here for any thing on this Side of\nher time) there were some Counsellors and Statesmen who merited the\nCharacter of _wise_, in the best Sense; that is to say, _good_, and\n_wise_, as they stand in Conjunction; but as to what has happen'd since\nthat, or, as we may call it, from that Queen's Funeral to the late\nRevolution, I have little to say; but I'll tell you what honest _Andrew\nMarvel_ said of those Times, and by that you may, if you please, make\nyour Calculation or let it alone, 'tis all one.\n  \"To see a white Staff-maker, a Beggar, a Lord,\n  \"And scarce _a wise Man_ at a long Council-Board.\nBut I may be told this relates to wise Men in another Constitution, or\nwise Men as they are opposed to Fools; whereas we are talking of them\nnow under another Class, namely, as _Wisemen_ or Magicians,\nSouth-sayers, _&c._ such as were in former Times call'd by that Name.\nBut to this I answer, that take them in which Sense you please, it may\nbe the same; for if I were to ask the _Devil_ the Character of the best\nStates-man he had employ'd among us for many Years past, I am apt to\nthink that tho' Oracles are ceased, he would honestly, according to the\nold ambiguous Way, when I ask'd if they were Christians, answer they\nwere (his) _Privy-Counsellors_.\nIt is but a little while ago, that I happen'd (in Conversation) to meet\nwith a long List of the Magistrates of that Age, in a neighbouring\nCountry, that is to say, the Men of Fame among them; and it was a very\ndiverting Thing to see the Judgment which was pass'd upon them among a\ngreat deal of good Company; it is not for me to tell you how many white\nStaves, Golden Keys, Mareshals Batoons, Cordons Blue, Gordon Rouge and\nGordon Blanc, there were among them, or by what Titles, as Dukes,\nCounts, Marquis, Abbot, Bishop, or Justice they were to be\ndistinguish'd; but the marginal Notes I found upon most of them were\n(being mark'd with an Asterism) as follows.\nSuch a Duke, such eminent Offices added to his Titles (* in the Margin)\nSuch an Arch---- with the Title of Noble added, ------ _No Archangel_.\nSuch an eminent Statesman and prime Minister, ------ _No Witch_.\nSuch a Ribbon with a Set of great Letters added, ------ _No Conjurer_.\nIt presently occurr'd to me that tho' Oracles were ceased, and we had\nnow no more double _Entendre_ in such a Degree as before, yet that\nambiguous Answers were not at an End; and that whether those Negatives\nwere meant so by the Writers, or not, 'twas certain Custom led the\nReaders to conclude them to be Satyrs, that they were to be rung\nbackwards like the Bells when the Town's on fire; tho' in short, I durst\nnot read them backward any where, but as speaking of foreign People, for\nfear of raising the _Devil_ I am talking of.\nBut to return to the Subject; to such mean Things is the DEVIL now\nreduc'd in his ordinary Way of carrying on his Business in the World,\nthat his Oracles are deliver'd now by the Bellmen and the\nChimney-Sweepers, by the meanest of those that speak in the Dark, and if\nhe operates by them, you may expect it accordingly; his Agents seem to\nme as if the DEVIL had singl'd them out by their Deformity, or that\nthere was something particular requir'd in their Aspect to qualify them\nfor their Employment; whence it is become proverbial, when our Looks are\nvery dismal and frightful, to say, I look like a Witch, or in other\nCases to say, as ugly as a Witch; in another Case to look as envious as\na Witch; now whether there is any Thing particularly requir'd in the\nLooks of the DEVIL's modern Agents, which is assisting in the Discharge\nof their Offices, and which make their Answers appear more solemn, this\nthe _Devil_ has not yet reveal'd, at least not to me; and therefore why\nit is that he singles out such Creatures as are fit only to fright the\nPeople that come to them with their Enquiries, I do not take upon me to\ndetermine.\nPerhaps it is necessary they should be thus extraordinary in their\nAspect, that they might strike an Awe into the Minds of their Votaries,\nas if they were Satan's true and real Representatives; and that the said\nVotaries may think when they speak to the Witches they are really\ntalking to the _Devil_; or perhaps 'tis necessary to the Witches\nthemselves, that they should be so exquisitely ugly, that they might not\nbe surpriz'd at whatever Figure the Devil makes when he first appears to\nthem, being certain they can see nothing uglier than themselves.\nSome are of the Opinion that the Communication with the _Devil_, or\nbetween the Devil and those Creatures his Agents, has something\nassimulating in it, and that if they were tolerable before, they are,\n_ipso facto_, turn'd into DEVILS by talking with him; I will not say but\nthat a Tremor in the Limbs, a Horror in the Aspect, and a surprizing\nStare in the Eyes may seize upon some of them when they really see the\nDEVIL, and that the frequent Repetition may make those Distortions,\nwhich we so constantly see in their Faces becomes natural to them; by\nwhich if it does not continue always upon the Countenance, they can at\nleast, _like the Posture-Masters_, cast themselves into such Figures and\nfrightful Dislocations of the Lines and Features in their Faces, and so\nassume a Devil's Face suitable to the Occasion, or as may serve the turn\nfor which they take it up, and as often as they have any use for it.\nBut be it which of these the Enquirer pleases, 'tis all one to the Case\nin Hand; this is certain, that such deform'd _Devil-like_ Creatures,\nmost of those we call _Hags_ and _Witches_, are in their Shapes and\nAspects, and that they give out their Sentences and frightful Messages\nwith an Air of Revenge for some Injury receiv'd; for Witches are fam'd\nchiefly for doing Mischief.\nIt seems the _Devil_ has always pick'd out the most ugly and frightful\nold Women to do his Business; _Mother Shipton_, our famous _English_\nWitch or Prophetess, is very much wrong'd in her Picture, if she was not\nof the most terrible Aspect imaginable; and if it be true that _Merlin_,\nthe famous _Welch_ Fortune-Teller, was a frightful Figure, it will seem\nthe more rational to believe, if we credit another Story, (_viz._) that\nhe was begotten by the Devil himself, of which I shall speak by it self:\nBut to go back to the Devil's Instruments being so ugly; it may be\nobserved, I say, that the Devil has always dealt in such sort of Cattle;\nthe _Sybils_, of whom so many strange prophetic Things are recorded,\nwhether true or no is not to the Question, are (if the _Italian_\nPainters may have any Credit given them) all represented as very old\nWomen; and as if Ugliness were a Beauty to old Age, they seem to paint\nthem out as ugly and frightful as (not they, the Painters) but even as\nthe Devil himself could make them; not that I believe there are any\noriginal Pictures of them really extant; but it is not unlikely that the\n_Italians_ might have some traditional Knowledge of them, or some\nremaining Notions of them, or particularly that antient _Sybil_ named\n_Anus_, who sold the fatal Book to _Tarquin_; 'tis said of her that\n_Tarquin_ supposed she doated with Age.\nI had Thoughts indeed here to have entred into a learned Disquisition of\nthe Excellency of old Women in all diabolical Operations, and\nparticularly of the Necessity of having recourse to them for _Satan_'s\nmore exquisite Administration, which also may serve to solve the great\nDifficulty in the natural Philosophy of Hell; namely, why it comes to\npass that the Devil is oblig'd for want of old Women, properly so\ncall'd, to turn so many antient Fathers, grave Counsellors both of Law\nand State, and especially Civilians or Doctors of the Law into old\nWomen, and how the extraordinary Operation is perform'd; but this, as a\nThing of great Consequence in Satan's Management of humane Affairs, and\nparticularly as it may lead us into the necessary History, as well as\nCharacters of some of the most eminent of these Sects among us, I have\npurposely reserv'd for a Work by it self, to be published, if _Satan\nhinders not_, in fifteen Volumes in Folio, wherein I shall in the first\nPlace define in the most exact Manner possible, what is to be understood\nby a _Male old Woman_, of what heterogeneous Kind they are produced,\ngive you the monstrous Anatomy of the Parts, and especially those of the\nHead, which being fill'd with innumerable Globules of a sublime Nature,\nand which being of a fine Contexture without, but particularly hollow in\nthe Cavity, defines most philosophically that antient paradoxical\nSaying, (_viz._) _being full of Emptiness_, and makes it very consistent\nwith Nature and common Sense.\nI shall likewise spend some Time, _and it must be Labour too, I assure\nyou, when 'tis done_, in determining whether this new Species of\nWonderfuls are not deriv'd from that famous _old Woman Merlin_, which I\nprove to be very reasonable for us to suppose, because of the many\nseveral judicious Authors, who affirm the said _Merlin_, as I hinted\nbefore, to have been begotten by the _Devil_.\nAs to the deriving his Gift of Prophesy from the Devil, by that\npretended Generation, I shall omit that Part, because, as I have all\nalong insisted upon it, that Satan himself has no prophetic or\npredicting Powers of his own, it is not very clear to me that he could\nconvey it to his Posterity, _nil dat quod not habet_.\nHowever, in deriving this so much magnified Prophet in a right Line from\nthe _Devil_, much may be said in favour of his ugly Face, in which it\nwas said he was very remarkable, for it is no new Thing for a Child to\nbe like the Father; but all these weighty Things I adjourn for the\npresent, and proceed to the Affair in Hand, namely, the several Branches\nof the _Devil_'s Management since his quitting his Temples and Oracles.\nCHAP. VI.\n_Of the extraordinary Appearance of the_ Devil, _and particularly of the\n     Cloven-Foot._\nSome People would fain have us treat this Tale of the _Devil_'s\nappearing with a Cloven-Foot with more Solemnity than I believe the\n_Devil_ himself does; for Satan, who knows how much of a Cheat it is,\nmust certainly ridicule it, in his own Thoughts, to the last Degree; but\nas he is glad of any Way to hoodwink the Understandings, and bubble the\nweak Part of the World; so if he sees Men willing to take every\nScarecrow for a Devil, it is not his Business to undeceive them; on the\nother Hand, he finds it his Interest to foster the Cheat, and serve\nhimself of the Consequence: Nor could I doubt but the Devil, if any\nMirth be allow'd him, often laughs at the many frightful Shapes and\nFigures we dress him up in, and especially to see how willing we are\nfirst to paint him as black, and make him appear as ugly as we can, and\nthen stare and start at the Spectrum of our own making.\nThe Truth is, that among all the Horribles that we dress up Satan in, I\ncannot but think we shew the least of Invention in this of a Goat, or a\nThing with a Goat's Foot, of all the rest; for tho' a Goat is a Creature\nmade use of by our Saviour in the Allegory of the Day of Judgment, and\nis said there to represent the wicked rejected Party, yet it seems to be\nonly on Account of their Similitude to the Sheep, and so to represent\nthe just Fate of Hypocrisy and Hypocrites, and in particular to form the\nnecessary Antithesis in the Story; for else, _our whimsical Fancies\nexcepted_, a Sheep or a Lamb has a Cloven-Foot as well as a Goat; nay,\nif the Scripture be of any Value in the Case, 'tis to the _Devil_'s\nAdvantage, for the dividing the Hoof was the distinguishing Character or\nMark of a clean Beast, and how the Devil can be brought into that Number\nis pretty hard to say.\nOne would have thought if we had intended to have given a just Figure of\nthe _Devil_, it would have been more apposite to have rank'd him among\nthe Cat-kind, and given him a Foot (if he is to be known by his Foot)\nlike a Lion, or like a _red Dragon_, being the same Creatures which he\nis represented by in the Text, and so his Claws would have had some\nTerror in them as well as his Teeth.\nBut neither is the _Goat_ a true Representative of the Devil at all, for\nwe do not rank the Goats among the Subtle or cunning Part of the Brutes;\nhe is counted a fierce Creature indeed of his Kind, tho' nothing like\nthose other abovemention'd; and he is emblematically used to represent a\nlustful Temper, but even that Part does not fully serve to describe the\nDevil, whose Operation lies principally another Way.\nBesides it is not the _Goat_ himself that is made use of, 'tis the\nCloven-Hoof only, and that so particularly, that the _Cloven Foot_ of a\nRam or a Swine, or any other Creature, may serve as well as that of a\n_Goat_, only that History gives us some Cause to call it the _Goat_'s\n_Foot_.\nIn the next Place 'tis understood by us not as a bare Token to know\n_Satan_ by, but as if it were a Brand upon him, and that like the Mark\nGod put upon _Cain_, it was given him for a Punishment, so that he\ncannot get leave to appear without it, nay cannot conceal it whatever\nother Dress or Disguise he may put on; and as if it was to make him as\nridiculous as possible, they will have it be, that whenever _Satan_ has\nOccasion to dress himself in any humane Shape, be it of what Degree\nsoever, from the King to the Beggar, be it of a fine Lady or of an _old\nWoman_, (the Latter it seems he oftenest assumes) yet still he not only\nmust have this _Cloven-Foot_ about him, but he is oblig'd to shew it\ntoo; nay, they will not allow him any Dress, whether it be a Prince's\nRobes, a Lord Cha---r's Gown, or a Lady's Hoop and long Petticoats, but\nthe Cloven-Foot must be shew'd from under them; they will not so much as\nallow him an artificial _Shoe_ or a _Jack-Boot_, as we often see\ncontriv'd to conceal a _Club-Foot_ or a _Wooden-Leg_; but that the\n_Devil_ may be known wherever he goes, he is bound to shew his Foot;\nthey might as well oblige him to set a Bill upon his Cap, as Folks do\nupon a House to be let, and have it written in capital Letters, _I am\nthe_ DEVIL.\nIt must be confess'd this is very particular, and would be very hard\nupon the _Devil_, if it had not another Article in it, which is some\nAdvantage to him, and that is, that _the Fact is not true_; but the\nBelief of this is so universal, that all the World runs away with it; by\nwhich Mistake the good People miss the _Devil_ many times where they\nlook for him, and meet him as often where they did not expect him, and\nwhen for want of this Cloven-Foot they do not know him.\nUpon this very Account I have sometimes thought, not that this has been\nput upon him by meer Fancy, and the Cheat of a heavy Imagination,\npropagated by Fable and Chymny-Corner Divinity, but that it has been a\nContrivance of his own; and that, in short, the Devil rais'd this\nScandal upon himself, that he might keep his Disguise the better, and\nmight go a Visiting among his Friends without being known; for were it\nreally so, that he could go no where without this particular Brand of\nInfamy, he could not come into Company, could not dine with my Lord\nMayor, nor drink Tea with the Ladies, could not go to the Drawing-R----\nat ------, could not have gone to _Fountainbleau_ to the King of\n_France_'s Wedding, or to the Diet of _Poland_, to prevent the Grandees\nthere coming to an Agreement; nay, _which would be still worse than\nall_, he could not go to the Masquerade, nor to any of our Balls; the\nReason is plain, he would be always discover'd, expos'd and forc'd to\nleave the good Company, or which would be as bad, the Company would all\ncry out the _Devil_ and run out of the Room as if they were frighted;\nnor could all the Help of Invention do him any Service, no Dress he\ncould put on would cover him; not all our Friends at _Tavistock Corner_\ncould furnish him with a Habit that would disguise or conceal him, this\nunhappy Foot would spoil it all: Now this would be a great a Loss to\nhim, that I question whether he could carry on any of his most important\nAffairs in the World without it; for tho' he has access to Mankind in\nhis compleat Disguise, I mean that of his Invisibility, yet the Learned\nvery much agree in this, that his corporal Presence in the World is\nabsolutely necessary upon many Occasions, to support his Interest and\nkeep up his Correspondences, and particularly to encourage his Friends\nwhen Numbers are requisite to carry on his Affairs; but this Part I\nshall have Occasion to speak of again, when I come to consider him as a\nGentleman of Business in his Locality, and under the Head of visible\nApparition; but I return to the _Foot_.\nAs I have thus suggested that the Devil himself has politically spread\nabout this Notion concerning his appearing with _a Cloven-Foot_, so I\ndoubt not that he has thought it for his Purpose to paint this\n_Cloven-Foot_ so lively in the Imaginations of many of our People, and\nespecially of those clear sighted Folks who see the _Devil_ when he is\nnot to be seen, that they would make no Scruple to say, nay and to make\nAffidavit too, even before _Satan_ himself, whenever he sat upon the\nBench, that they had seen his Worship's Foot at such and such a Time;\nthis I advance the rather because 'tis very much for his Interest to do\nthis, for if we had not many Witnesses, _viva voce_, to testify it, we\nshould have had some obstinate Fellows always among us, who would have\ndenied the Fact, or at least have spoken doubtfully of it, and so have\nrais'd Disputes and Objections against it, as impossible, or at least as\nimprobable; buzzing one ridiculous Notion or other into our Ears, as if\nthe Devil was not so black as he was painted, that he had no more a\n_Cloven-Foot_ than a Pope, whose Apostolical Toes have so often been\nreverentially kiss'd by Kings and Emperors: but now alas this Part is\nout of the Question, not the Man in the Moon, not the Groaning-Board,\nnot the speaking of Fryar _Bacon_'s Brazen-Head, not the Inspiration of\n_Mother Shipton_, or the Miracles of Dr. _Faustus_, Things as certain as\nDeath and Taxes, can be more firmly believ'd: The Devil not have a\nCloven-Foot! I doubt not but I could, in a short Time, bring you a\nthousand old Women together, that would as soon believe there was no\nDevil at all; nay, they will tell you, he could not be a Devil without\nit, any more than he could come into the Room, and the Candles not burn\nblue, or go out and not leave a smell of Brimstone behind him.\nSince then the Certainty of the Thing is so well establish'd, and there\nare so many good and substantial Witnesses ready to testify that he has\na Cloven-Foot, and that they have seen it too; nay, and that we have\nAntiquity on our Side, for we have this Truth confirm'd by the Testimony\nof many Ages; why should we doubt it any longer? we can prove that many\nof our Ancestors have been of this Opinion, and divers learn'd Authors\nhave left it upon Record, as particularly that learned Familiarist\nMother _Hazel_, whose Writings are to be found in MS. in the famous\nLibrary at _Pye-Corner_; also the admir'd _Joan_ of _Amesbury_, the\nHistory of the _Lancashire_ Witches, and the Reverend Exorcist of the\n_Devil_'s of _London_, whose History is extant among us to this Day; all\nthese and many more may be quoted, and their Writings referr'd to for\nthe Confirmation of the Antiquity of this Truth; but there seems to be\nno Occasion for farther Evidence, 'tis enough, _Satan_ himself, if he\ndid not raise the Report, yet tacitly owns the Fact, at least he appears\nwilling to have it believ'd, and be receiv'd as a general Truth for the\nReasons above.\nBut besides all this, and as much a Jest as some unbelieving People\nwould have this Story pass for, who knows but that if _Satan_ is\nempower'd to assume any Shape or Body, and to appear to us visibly, as\nif really so shap'd; I say, who knows but he may, by the same Authority,\nbe allow'd to assume the Addition of the Cloven-Foot, or two or four\nCloven-Feet, if he pleased? and why not a _Cloven-Foot_ as well as any\nother Foot, if he thinks fit? For if the _Devil_ can assume a Shape, and\ncan appear to Mankind in a visible Form, it may, I doubt not, with as\ngood Authority be advanc'd that he is left at Liberty to assume what\nShape he pleases, and to choose _what Case of Flesh and Blood he'll\nplease to wear_, whether real or imaginary; and if this Liberty be\nallow'd him, it is an admirable Disguise for him to come generally with\nhis _Cloven-Foot_, that when he finds it for his Purpose, on special\nOccasions to come without it, as I said above, he may not be suspected;\n_but take this with you as you go_, that all this is upon a Supposition\nthat the _Devil_ can assume a visible Shape, and make a real Appearance,\nwhich however I do not yet think fit to grant or deny.\nCertain it is, the first People who bestow'd a _Cloven-Foot_ upon the\nDevil, were not so despicable as you may imagine, but were real\nFavourites of Heaven; for did not _Aaron_ set up the _Devil_ of a Calf\nin the Congregation, and set the People a dancing about it for a God?\nUpon which Occasion, Expositors tell us, that particular Command was\ngiven, _Levit._ xvii. 7. _They shall no more offer their Sacrifices\nunto_ Devils, _after whom they have gone a Whoring_; likewise King\n_Jeroboam_ set up the two Calves, one at _Dan_ and the other at\n_Bethel_, and we find them charg'd afterwards with setting up the\nWorship of _Devils_ instead of the Worship of _God_.\nAfter this we find some Nations actually sacrificed to the _Devil_ in\nthe Form of a Ram, and others of a Goat; from which, and that above of\nthe Calves at _Horeb_, I doubt not the Story of the _Cloven-Foot_ first\nderived; and it is plain that the Worship of that Calf at _Horeb_ is\nmeant in the Scripture quoted above, _Levit._ xvii. 7. _Thou shalt no\nmore offer Sacrifices unto Devils_: The Original is _Seghnirim_; that\nis, rough and hairy _Goats_ or _Calves_; and some think also in this\nShape the _Devil_ most ordinarily appeared to the _Egyptians_ and\n_Arabians_, from whence it was derived.\nAlso in the old Writings of the _Egyptians_, I mean their hieroglyphick\nWriting, before the Use of Letters was known, we are told this was the\nMark that he was known by; and the Figure of a _Goat_ was the\n_Hieroglyphick_ of the _Devil_; some will affirm that the _Devil_ was\nparticularly pleased to be so represented; how they came by their\nInformation, and whether they had it from his own Mouth or not, Authors\nhave not yet determined.\nBut be this as it will, I do not see that _Satan_ could have been at a\nLoss for some extraordinary Figure to have banter'd Mankind with, tho'\nthis had not been thought of; but thinking of the _Cloven-Foot_ first,\nand the Matter being indifferent, this took place, and easily rooted it\nself in the bewildred Fancy of the People, and now 'tis riveted too fast\nfor the _Devil_ himself to remove it if he was disposed to try; but as I\nsaid above, 'tis none of his Business to solve Doubts or remove\nDifficulties out of our Heads, but to perplex us with more, as much as\nhe can.\nSome People carry this Matter a great deal higher still, and will have\nthe _Cloven-Foot_ be like the great Stone which the _Brasilian\nConjurers_ used to solve all difficult Questions upon, after having used\na great many monstrous and barbarous Gestures and Distortions of their\nBodies, and cut certain Marks or magical Figures upon the Stone; so, _I\nsay_, they will have this Cloven-Foot be a kind of a Conjuring-Stone,\nand tell us, that in former Times, when _Satan_ drove a greater Trade\nwith Mankind in publick, than he has done of late, he gave this\n_Cloven-Foot_ as a Token to his particular Favourites to work Wonders\nwith, and to conjure by, and that Witches, Fairies, Hobgoblins, and such\nThings, of which the Antients had several Kinds, at least in their\nImagination, had all a _Goat's Leg_ with a _Cloven-Foot_ to put on upon\nextraordinary Occasions; it seems this Method is of late grown out of\nPractice, and so like the melting of Marble and the painting of Glass,\n'tis laid aside among the various useful Arts which History tells us are\nlost to the World; what may be practised in the Fairy World, if such a\nPlace there be, we can give no particular Account at present.\nBut neither is this all, for other wou'd-be-wise People take upon them\nto make farther and more considerable Improvements upon this Doctrine of\nthe _Cloven-Foot_, and treat it as a most significant Instrument of\nSatan's private Operation, and that as _Joseph_ is said to _Divine_,\nthat is to say, to _conjure_ by his Golden Cup which was put into\n_Benjamin_'s Sack, so the _Devil_ has managed several of his secret\nOperations, and Possessions, and other hellish Mechanisms upon the\nSpirits as well as Bodies of Men, by the Medium or Instrumentality of\nthe _Cloven-Foot_; accordingly it had a Kind of an hellish Inspiration\nin it, and a separate and magical Power by which he wrought his infernal\nMiracles; that the Cloven-Foot had a superior Signification, and was not\nonly emblematic and significative of the Conduct of Men, but really\nguided their Conduct in the most important Affairs of Life; and that the\nAgents the Devil employ'd to influence Mankind, and to delude them and\ndraw them into all the Snares and Traps that he lays continually for\ntheir Destruction, were equipp'd with this Foot in Aid of their other\nPowers for Mischief.\nHere they read us learn'd Lectures upon the sovereign Operations which\nthe Devil is at present Master of, in the Government of human Affairs;\nand how the Cloven-Foot is an Emblem of the true _double Entendre_ or\ndivided Aspect, which the great Men of the World generally act with, and\nby which all their Affairs are directed; from whence it comes to pass\nthat there is no such Thing as a single hearted Integrity, or an\nupright Meaning to be found in the World; that Mankind, worse than the\nravenous Brutes, preys upon his own Kind, and devours them by all the\nlaudable Methods of Flattery, Whyne, Cheat and Treachery; _Crocodile\nlike_, weeping over those it will devour, destroying those it smiles\nupon, and, in a Word, devours its own Kind, which the very Beasts\nrefuse, and that by all the Ways of Fraud and Allurement that _Hell_ can\ninvent; holding out a cloven divided Hoof, or Hand, pretending to save,\nwhen the very Pretence is made use of to ensnare and destroy.\nThus the divided Hoof is the Representative of a divided double Tongue,\nand Heart, an Emblem of the most exquisite Hypocrisy, the most fawning\nand fatally deceiving Flattery; and here they give us very diverting\nHistories, tho' tragical in themselves, of the manner which some of the\n_Devil_'s inspired Agents have manag'd themselves under the especial\nInfluence of the _Cloven-Foot_; how they have made War under the\nPretence of Peace, murther'd Garrisons under the most sacred\nCapitulations, massacred innocent Multitudes after Surrenders to Mercy.\nAgain, they tell us the _Cloven-Foot_ has been made use of in all\nTreasons, Plots, Assassinations, and secret as well as open Murthers and\nRebellions. Thus _Joab_ under the Treason of an Embrace, shew'd how\ndexterously he could manage the _Cloven-Foot_, and struck _Abner_ under\nthe fifth Rib: Thus _David_ play'd the Cloven-Foot upon poor _Uriah_,\nwhen he had a Mind to lie with his Wife: Thus _Brutus_ play'd it upon\n_C\u00e6sar_; and to come nearer home, we have had a great many retrograde\nMotions in this Country by this magical Implement the _Foot_; Such as\nthat of the Earl of _Essex_'s Fate, beheading the Queen of _Scots_, and\ndiverse others in Queen _Elizabeth_'s Time: That of the Earl of\n_Shrewsbury_ and Sir _Thomas Overbury_, _Gondamor_ and Sir _Walter\nRaleigh_, and many others in King _James_ the I.'s Time; in all which,\nif the Cloven-Foot had not been dexterously manag'd, those Murthers had\nnot been so dexterously manag'd, or the Murtherers have so well been\nskreen'd from Justice; for which and the imprecated Justice of Heaven\nunappeased, some have thought the innocent Branches of the Royal House\nof _Stuart_ did not fare the better in the Ages which follow'd.\nIt must be confess'd, the Cloven-Foot was in its full Exercise in the\nnext Reign, and the Generation that rose up immediately after them,\narrived to the most exquisite Skill for Management of it; here they\nfasted and pray'd, there they plunder'd and murther'd; here they rais'd\nWar for the King, and there they fought against him, cutting Throats for\n_God's Sake_, and deposing both King and kingly Government according to\nLaw.\nNor was the _Cloven-Foot_ unemployed on all Sides, for 'tis the main\nExcellency of this Instrument of Hell, that it acts on every Side, it is\nits denominating Quality, and is for that Reason call'd a cloven or\ndivided Hoof.\nThis mutilated Apparition has been so publick in other Countries too,\nthat it seems to convince us the Devil is not confin'd to _England_\nonly, but that as his Empire extended to all the sublunary World, so he\ngives them all Room to see he is qualified to manage them his own Way.\nWhat abundant Use did that Prince of Dissemblers, _Charles_ V. make of\nthis Foot? 'twas by the Help of this Apparition of the Foot that he\nbaited his Hook with the City of _Milan_, and tickled _Francis_ I. of\n_France_ so well with it, that when he pass'd thro' _France_, and was in\nthat King's Power, he let him go, and never get the Bait off of the Hook\nneither; it Seems the _Foot_ was not on King _Francis_'s Side at that\nTime.\nHow cruelly did _Philip_ II. of _Spain_ manage this Foot in the Murther\nof the Nobility of the _Spanish Netherlands_, the Assassination of the\nPrince of _Orange_, and at last: in that of his own Son _Don Carlos_\nInfant of _Spain_? and yet such was the _Devil_'s Craft, and so nicely\ndid he bestir his _Cloven-Hoof_, that this Monarch died consolated (tho'\nimpenitent) in the Arms of the Church, and with the Benediction of the\nClergy too, _those second best Managers of the said Hoof in the World_.\nI must acknowledge, I agree with this Opinion thus far; namely, that the\nDevil acting by this Cloven-Foot, as a Machine, has done great Things in\nthe World for the propagating his dark Empire among us; and History is\nfull of Examples, besides the little low priz'd Things done among us;\nfor we are come to such a Kind of Degeneracy in Folly, that we have even\ndishonour'd the _Devil_, and put this glorious Engine the Cloven-Foot to\nsuch mean Uses, that the _Devil_ himself seems to be asham'd of us.\nBut to return a little to foreign History, besides what has been\nmention'd above, we find flaming Examples of most glorious Mischief done\nby this Weapon, when put into the Hands of Kings and Men of Fame in the\nWorld: How many Games have the Kings of _France_ play'd with this\n_Cloven-Foot_, and that within a few Years of one another? First,\n_Charles_ IX. play'd the _Cloven-Foot_ upon _Gaspar Coligni_ Admiral of\n_France_, when he caress'd him, complimented him, invited him to\n_Paris_, to the Wedding of the King of _Navarre_, call'd him Father,\nkiss'd him, and when he was wounded sent his own Surgeons to take Care\nof him, and yet three Days after order'd him to be assassinated and\nmurther'd, used with a thousand Indignities, and at last thrown out of\nthe Window into the Street to be insulted by the Rabble?\nDid not _Henry_ III. in the same Country, play the Cloven-Foot upon the\nDuke of _Guise_, when he call'd him to his Council, and caus'd him to be\nmurther'd as he went in at the Door? The _Guises_ again plaid the same\nGame back upon the King, when they sent out a _Jacobin_ Friar to\nassassinate him in his Tent as he lay at the Siege of _Paris_.\nIn a Word, this Opera of the _Cloven-Foot_ has been acted all over the\nChristian World, ever since _Judas_ betray'd the Son of God with a Kiss;\nnay, our Saviour says expresly of him, _One of you is a Devil_; and the\nsacred Text says in another Place, _The Devil enter'd into Judas_.\nIt would take up a great deal of Time and Paper too, to give you a full\nAccount of the Travels of this _Cloven-Foot_; its Progress into all the\nCourts of _Europe_, and with what most accurate Hypocrisy _Satan_ has\nmade use of it upon many Occasions, and with what Success; but as in the\nelaborate Work of which I just now gave you a Specimen I design one\nwhole Volume upon this Subject, and which I shall call, _The compleat\nHistory_ of the _Cloven-Foot_; I say, for that Reason, and diverse\nothers, I shall say but very little more to it in this Place.\nIt remains to tell you, that this merry Story of the _Cloven-Foot_ is\nvery essential to the History which I am now writing, as it has been all\nalong the great Emblem of the _Devil_'s Government in the World, and by\nwhich all his most considerable Engagements have been answer'd and\nexecuted; for as he is said not to be able to conceal this Foot, but\nthat he carries it always with him, it imports most plainly, that the\n_Devil_ would be no _Devil_ if he was not a Dissembler, a Deceiver, and\ncarried a _double Entendre_ in all he does or says; that he cannot but\nsay one Thing and mean another, promise one Thing and do another, engage\nand not perform, declare and not intend, and act like a true _Devil_ as\nI might indeed go back to Originals, and derive this _Cloven-Foot_ from\nSatan's primitive State as a Cherubim or a celestial Being, which\nCherubims, as _Moses_ is said to have seen them about the Throne of God\nin Mount _Sinai_, and as the same _Moses_, from the Original represented\nthem afterwards covering the Ark, had the Head and Face of a Man, Wings\nof an Eagle, Body of a Lion, and Legs and Feet of a Calf; but this is\nnot so much to our present Purpose, for as we are to allow that whatever\n_Satan_ had of heavenly Beauty before the Fall, he lost it all when he\ncommenc'd _Devil_, so to fetch his Original so far up would be only to\nsay, that he retain'd nothing but the _Cloven-Foot_, and that all the\nrest of him was alter'd and deform'd, become frightful and horrible as\nthe DEVIL; but his Cloven-Foot, as we now understand it, is rather\nmystical and emblematick, and describes him only as the Fountain of\nMischief and Treason, and the Prince of Hypocrites, and as such we are\nnow to speak of him.\n'Tis from this Original all the hypocritic World copy, he wears the Foot\non their Account, and from this Model they act: This made our blessed\nLord tell them, _the Works of your Father ye will do_, meaning the\n_Devil_, as he had express'd it just before.\nNor does he deny the Use of the _Foot_ to the meaner Class of his\nDisciples in the World, but decently equips them all upon every\nOccasion with a needful Proportion of Hypocrisy and Deceit; that they\nmay hand on the Power of promiscuous Fraud thro' all his temporal\nDominions, and wear _the Foot_ always about them as a Badge of their\nprofess'd Share in whatever is done by that Means.\nThus every Dissembler, every false Friend, every secret Cheat, every\nBearskin-Jobber has a _Cloven-Foot_, and so far hands on the Devil's\nInterest by the same powerful Agency of Art, as the _Devil_ himself uses\nto act when he appears in Person, or would act if he was just now upon\nthe Spot; for this _Foot_ is a Machine which is to be wound up and wound\ndown, as the Cause it appears for requires; and there are Agents and\nEngineers to act in it by Directions of _Satan_ (the grand Engineer) who\nlies still in his Retirement, only issuing out his Orders as he sees\nconvenient.\nAgain, every Class, every Trade, every Shopkeeper, every Pedlar, nay,\nthat meanest of Tradesmen, that Church Pedlar the Pope, has a\nCloven-Foot, with which he _Paw wa's_ upon the World, wishes them all\nwell, and at the same time cheats them; wishes them all fed, and at the\nsame time starves them; wishes them all in Heaven, and at the same time\nmarches before them directly to the Devil, _alamode de Cloven-Foot_.\nNay, the very Bench, the everliving Foundation of Justice in the World;\nhow often has it been made the Tool of Violence, the Refuge of\nOppression, the Seat of Bribery and Corruption, by this Monster in\nMasquerade, and that every where (our own Country always excepted)? They\nhad much better wipe out the Picture of justice blinded, and having the\nSword and Scales in her Hand, which in foreign Countries is generally\npainted over the Seat of those who sit to do Justice, and place instead\nthereof a naked unarm'd Cloven-Hoof, a proper Emblem of that Spirit that\nInfluences the World, and of the Justice we often see administred among\nthem; human Imagination cannot form an Idea more suitable, nor the\n_Devil_ propose an Engine more or better qualified for an Operation of\nJustice, by the Influence of Bribery and Corruption; it is this\nmagnipotent Instrument in the Hands of the Devil, which under the\nclosest Disguise agitates every Passion, bribes every Affection,\nblackens every Virtue, gives a double Face to Words and Actions, and to\nall Persons who have any Concern in them, and in a Word, makes us all\nDevils to one another.\nIndeed the Devil has taken but a dark Emblem to be distinguish'd by, for\nthis of a Goat was said to be a Creature hated by Mankind from the\nbeginning, and that there is a natural Antipathy in Mankind against\nthem: Hence the Scape Goat was to bear the Sins of the People, and to go\ninto the Wilderness with all that Burthen upon him.\nBut we have a Saying among us, in Defence of which we must enquire into\nthe proper Sphere of Action which may be assigned to this Cloven-Foot,\nas hitherto described: The Proverb is this; _Every_ Devil _has not a\nCloven-Foot_. This Proverb, instead of giving us some more favourable\nThoughts of the _Devil_, confirms what I have said already, that the\n_Devil_ rais'd this Scandal upon himself; I mean, the Report that he\ncannot conceal or disguise his Devil's Foot, or Hoof, but that it must\nappear, under whatever Habit he shews himself; and the Reason I gave\nholds good still, _namely_, that he may be more effectually conceal'd\nwhen he goes abroad without it: For if the People were fully persuaded\nthat the _Devil_ could not appear without this Badge of his Honour, or\nMark of his Infamy, _take it as you will_; and that he was bound also to\nshew it upon all Occasions, it would be natural to conclude, that\nwhatever frightful Appearances might be seen in the World, if the\nCloven-Foot did not also appear, we had no Occasion to look for the\n_Devil_, or so much as to think of him, much less to apprehend he was\nnear us; and as this might be a Mistake, and that the _Devil_ might be\nthere while we thought our selves so secure, it might on many Occasions\nbe a Mistake of very ill Consequence, and in particular, as it would\ngive the _Devil_ room to act in the Dark, and not be discover'd, where\nit might be most needful to know him.\nFrom this short Hint, thus repeated, I draw a new Thesis, namely, That\n_Devil_ is most dangerous that has no Cloven-Foot; or, if you will have\nit in Words more to the common Understanding, the _Devil_ seems to be\nmost dangerous when he goes without his Cloven-Foot.\nAnd here a learned Speculation offers it self to our Debate, and which\nindeed I ought to call a Council of Casuists, and Men learned in the\n_Devil_'s Politicks, to determine:\nWhether is most hurtful to the World, the _Devil_ walking about without\nhis Cloven-Foot, or the Cloven-Foot walking about without the _Devil_?\nIt is indeed a nice and difficult Question, and merits to be well\nenquir'd into; for which Reason, and diverse others, I have referr'd it\nto be treated with some Decency, and as a Dispute of Dignity sufficient\nto take up a Chapter by itself.\nCHAP. VII.\n_Whether is most hurtful to the World, the_ Devil _walking about without\n     his Cloven-Foot, or the Cloven-Foot walking about without the_ Devil?\nIn discussing this most critical Distinction of Satan's private Motions,\nI must, as the Pulpit Gentlemen direct us, explain the Text, and let you\nknow what I mean by several dark Expressions in it, that I may not be\nunderstood to talk (as the _Devil_ walks) in the dark.\n     1. As to the Devil's walking about.\n     2. His walking without his Cloven-Foot.\n     3. The Cloven-Foot walking about without the _Devil_.\nNow as I study Brevity, and yet would be understood too, you may please\nto understand me as I understand my self, thus.\n     1. That I must be allow'd to suppose the _Devil_ really has a full\n     Intercourse in, and through, and about this Globe, with Egress and\n     Regress, for the carrying on his special Affairs, when, how, and\n     where, to his Majesty, in his great Wisdom, it shall seem meet;\n     that sometimes he appears and becomes visible, and that, like a\n     Mastiff without his Clog, he does not always carry his Cloven-Foot\n     with him. This will necessarily bring me to some Debate upon the\n     most important Question of Apparitions, Hauntings, Walkings, _&c._\n     whether of _Satan_ in human Shape, or of human Creatures in the\n     _Devil_'s Shape, or in any other manner whatsoever.\n     2. I must also be allow'd to tell you that Satan has a great deal\n     of Wrong done him by the general embracing vulgar Errors, and that\n     there is a Cloven-Foot oftentimes without a _Devil_; or, in short,\n     that Satan is not guilty of all the simple Things, no, or of all\n     the wicked Things we charge him with.\nThese two Heads well settled will fully explain the Title of this\nChapter, answer the Query mentioned in it, and at the same time\ncorrespond very well with, and give us a farther Prospect into the main\nand original Design of this Work, _namely, The History of the Devil_. We\nare so fond of, and pleased with the general Notion of seeing the\n_Devil_, that I am loth to disoblige my Readers so much as calling in\nquestion his Visibility would do. Nor is it my Business, any more than\nit is his, to undeceive them, where the Belief is so agreeable to them;\nespecially since upon the whole 'tis not one Farthing matter, either on\none Side or on the other, whether it be so or no, or whether the Truth\nof Fact be ever discovered or not.\nCertain it is, whether we see him or no, here he is, and I make no doubt\nbut he is looking on while I am writing this Part of his Story, whether\nbehind me, or at my Elbow, or over my Shoulder, is not material to me,\nnor have I once turned my Head about to see whether he is there or no;\nfor if he be not in the Inside, I have so mean an Opinion of all his\nextravasated Powers, that it seems of very little Consequence to me what\nShape he takes up, or in what Posture he appears; nor indeed can I find\nin all my Enquiry that ever the _Devil_ appear'd (_Qua Devil_) in any\nof the most dangerous or important of his Designs in the World; the most\nof his Projects, especially of the significant Part of them, having been\ncarried on another way.\nHowever, as I am satisfied no Body will be pleas'd if I should dispute\nthe Reality of his Appearance, and the World runs away with it as a\nreceiv'd Point, and that admits no Dispute, I shall most readily grant\nthe General, and give you some Account of the Particulars.\nHistory is fruitful of Particulars, whether Invention has supply'd them\nor not, I will not say, where the _Devil_ is brought upon the Stage in\nplain and undeniable Apparition: The Story of _Samuel_ being rais'd by\nthe Witch of _Endor_, I shall leave quite out of my List, because there\nare so many Scruples and Objections against that Story; and as I shall\nnot dispute with the Scripture, so on the other hand, I have so much\nDeference for the Dignity of the _Devil_, as not to determine rashly how\nfar it may be in the Power of every old (_Witch_) Woman, to call him up\nwhenever she pleases, and that he must come, whatever the Pretence is,\nor whatever Business of Consequence he may be engaged in, as often as\n'tis needful for her to _Pa wa_ for half a Crown, or perhaps less than\nhalf the Money.\nNor will I undertake to tell you, till I have talk'd farther with him\nabout it, how far the _Devil_ is concern'd to discover Frauds, detect\nMurthers, reveal Secrets, and especially to tell where any Money is hid,\nand shew Folks where to find it; 'tis an odd thing that Satan should\nthink it of Consequence to come and tell us where such a Miser hid a\nStrong Box, or where such an old Woman buried her _Chamber Pot_ full of\nMoney, the Value of all which is perhaps but a Trifle, when at the same\ntime he lets so many Veins of Gold, so many unexhausted Mines, nay,\nMountains of Silver, as, we may depend upon it, are hid in the Bowels of\nthe Earth, and which it would be so much to the Good of whole Nations to\ndiscover, lie still there, and never say one Word of them to any Body.\nBesides, how does the _Devil_'s doing Things so foreign to himself, and\nso out of his way, agree with the rest of his Character; namely, shewing\na kind of a friendly Disposition to Mankind, or doing beneficent Things?\nThis is so beneath _Satan_'s Quality, and looks so little, that I scarce\nknow what to say to it; but that which is still more pungent in the Case\nis, these Things are so out of his Road, and so foreign to his Calling,\nthat it shocks our Faith in them, and seems to clash with all the just\nNotions we have of him, and of his Business in the World. The like is to\nbe said of those little merry Turns we bring him in acting with us, and\nupon us, upon trifling and simple Occasions, such as tumbling Chairs and\nStools about House, setting Pots and Vessels Bottom upward, tossing the\nGlass and Crokery Ware about without breaking; and such like mean\nfoolish Things, beneath the Dignity of the _Devil_, who, in my Opinion,\nis rather employ'd in setting the World with the Bottom upward, tumbling\nKings and Crowns about, and dashing the Nations one against another;\nraising Tempests and Storms, whether at Sea, or on Shore; and, in a\nword, doing capital Mischiefs suitable to his Nature, and agreeable to\nhis Name, _Devil_; and suited to that Circumstance of his Condition,\nwhich I have fully represented in the primitive Part of his exil'd\nState.\nBut to bring in the _Devil_ playing at Push-pin with the World, or like\n_Domitian_ catching Flies, that is to say, doing nothing to the\npurpose; this is not only deluding our selves, but putting a Slur upon\nthe _Devil_ himself; and, I say, I shall not dishonour Satan so much as\nto suppose any thing in it: However, as I must have a care too how I\ntake away the proper Materials of Winter Evening Frippery, and leave the\ngood Wives nothing of the Devil to fright the Children with, I shall\ncarry the weighty Point no farther. No doubt the _Devil_ and Dr.\n_Faustus_ were very intimate; I should rob you of a very significant [6]\nProverb, if I should so much as doubt it; no doubt the _Devil_ shew'd\nhimself in the Glass to that fair Lady who look'd in it to see where to\nplace her Patches; but then it should follow too that the _Devil_ is an\nEnemy to the Ladies wearing Patches, and that has some Difficulties in\nit which we cannot so easily reconcile; but we must tell the Story, and\nleave out the Consequences.\nBut to come to more remarkable Things, and in which the _Devil_ has\nthought fit to act in a Figure more suitable to his Dignity, and on\nOccasions consistent with himself; take the Story of the Appearance of\n_Julius C\u00e6sar_, or the _Devil_ assuming that murthered _Emperor_, to the\ngreat _Marcus Brutus_, who notwithstanding all the good Things said to\njustify it, was no less than a King-killer and an Assassinator, which we\nin our Language call by a very good Name, and peculiar to the _English_\nTongue, a _Ruffian_.\nThe Spectre had certainly the Appearance of _C\u00e6sar_, with his Wounds\nbleeding fresh, as if he had just receiv'd the fatal Blow; he had\nreproach'd him with his Ingratitude, with a _Tu Brute! tu quoque, mi\nfili_: \"What Thou _Brutus_! Thou, my adopted Son!\" Now History seems\nto agree universally, not only in the Story itself, but in the\nCircumstances of it; we have only to observe that the _Devil_ had\ncertainly Power to assume, not a human Shape only, but the Shape of\n_Julius C\u00e6sar_ in particular.\nHad _Brutus_ been a timorous _Conscience-harry'd_, weak-headed Wretch,\nhad he been under the Horror of the Guilt, and terrify'd with the\nDangers that were before him at that time, we might suggest that he was\nover-run with the Vapours, that the Terrors which were upon his Mind\ndisorder'd him, that his Head was delirious and prepossess'd, and that\nhis Fancy only plac'd _C\u00e6sar_ so continually in his Eye, that it\nrealiz'd him to his Imagination, and he believ'd he saw him; with many\nother suggested Difficulties to invalidate the Story, and render the\nReality of it doubtful.\nBut the contrary, to an Extreme, was the Case of _Brutus_; his known\nCharacter plac'd him above the Power of all Hypocondriacks, or fanciful\nDelusions; _Brutus_ was of a true _Roman_ Spirit, a bold Hero, of an\nintrepid Courage; one that scorn'd to fear even the _Devil_, as the\nStory allows: Besides, he glory'd in the Action; there cou'd be no\nTerror of Mind upon him; he valued himself upon it, as done in the\nService of Liberty, and the Cause of his Country; and was so far from\nbeing frighted at the _Devil_ in the worst Shape, that he spoke first to\nhim, and ask'd him, _What art thou?_ and when he was cited to see him\nagain at _Philippi_, answer'd, with a Gallantry that knew no Fear, _well\nI will see thee there_. Whatever the _Devil_'s Business was with\n_Brutus_, this is certain, according to all the Historians who give us\nthe Account of it, that _Brutus_ discover'd no Fear; he did not, _like\nSaul at Endor_, fall to the Ground in a Swoon, 1 _Sam._ xxviii. 20.\n_Then Saul fell all along upon the Earth, and there was no Strength in\nhim, and was sore afraid._ In a word, I see no room to charge _Brutus_\nwith being over-run with the _Hyppo_, or with Vapours, or with Fright\nand Terror of Mind; but he saw the _Devil_, that's certain, and with\nEyes open, his Courage not at all daunted, his Mind resolute, and with\nthe utmost Composure spoke to him, reply'd to his Answer, and defy'd his\nSummons to Death, which indeed he fear'd not, as appear'd afterward.\nI come next to an Instance as eminent in History as the other; this was\nin _Char._ VI. of _France_, sirnamed, _The Beloved_; who riding over the\nForest near _Mans_, a ghastly frightful Fellow (that is to say, the\n_Devil_ so clothed in human Vizor) came up to his Horse, and taking hold\nof his Bridle, stop'd him, with the Addition of these Words, _Stop King,\nwhither go you? You are betray'd!_ and immediately disappear'd. It is\ntrue, the King had been distemper'd in his Head before, and so he might\nhave been deceived, and we might have charg'd it to the Account of a\nwhimsical Brain, or the Power of his Imagination; but this was in the\nFace of his Attendants, several of his great Officers, Courtiers, and\nPrinces of the Blood being with him, who all saw the Man, heard the\nWords, and immediately, to their Astonishment, lost Sight of the\nSpectre, who vanish'd from them all.\nTwo Witnesses will convict a Murtherer, why not a Traitor? This must be\nthe _Old Gentleman_, emblematically so called, or who must it be? nay,\nwho else could it be? His Ugliness is not the Case, tho' _ugly as the\nDevil_, is a Proverb in his Favour; but vanishing out of sight is an\nEssential to a Spirit, and to an evil Spirit in our Times especially.\nThese are some of the _Devil_'s Extraordinaries, and it must be\nconfess'd they are not the most agreeable to Mankind, for sometimes he\ntakes upon him to disorder his Friends very much on these Occasions, as\nin the above Case of _Cha._ VI. of _France_; the King, they say, was\nreally demented ever after; that is, as we vulgarly, but not always\nimproperly, express it, he was really _frighted out of his Wits_.\nWhether the malicious _Devil_ intended it so, or not, is not certain,\ntho' it was not so foreign to his particular Disposition if he did.\nBut where he is more intimate, we are told he appears in a manner less\ndisagreeable, and there he is more properly _a familiar Spirit_; that\nis, in short, a _Devil_ of their Acquaintance: It is true, the Antients\nunderstand the Word, _a familiar Spirit_, to be one of the kinds of\nPossession; but if it serves our turn as well under the Denomination of\nan intimate _Devil_, or a _Devil_ visitant, it must be acknowledg'd to\nbe as near in the literal Sense and Acceptation of the Word, as the\nother; nay, it must be allow'd 'tis a very great Piece of Familiarity in\nthe _Devil_ to make Visits, and shew none of his Disagreeables, not\nappear formidable, or in the Shape of what he is, respectfully\nwithholding his dismal Part, in Compassion to the Infirmities of his\nFriends.\nIt is true, _Satan_ may be oblig'd to make different Appearances, as the\nseveral Circumstances of Things call for it; in some Cases he makes his\npublick Entry, and then he must shew himself in his Habit of Ceremony;\nin other Cases he comes upon private Business, and then he appears in\nDisguise; in some publick Cases he may thing fit to be _incog._ and then\nhe appears dress'd _a la Masque_; so they say he appear'd at the famous\nSt. _Bartholomew_ Wedding at _Paris_, where, he came in dress'd up like\na Trumpeter, danc'd in his Habit, sounded a _Levet_, and then went out\nand rung the Alarm-Bell (which was the Signal to begin the Massacre)\nhalf an Hour before the Time appointed, lest the King's Mind should\nalter, and his Heart fail him.\nIf the Story be not made upon him, (for we should not slander the\n_Devil_) it should seem, he was not thoroughly satisfied in King\n_Charles_ IX.'s Steadiness in his Cause; for the King, it seems, had\nrelax'd a little once before, and Satan might be afraid he would fall\noff again, and so prevent the Execution: Others say, the King did relent\nimmediately after the ringing the _Alarm-Bell_, but that then it was too\nlate, the Work was begun, and the Rage of Blood having been let loose\namong the People, there was no recalling the Order. If the _Devil_ was\nthus brought to the Necessity of a secret Management, it must be owned\nhe did it dexterously; but I have not Authority enough for the Story, to\ncharge him with the Particulars, so I leave it _au croc._\nI have much better Vouchers for the Story following, which I had so\nsolemnly confirm'd by one that liv'd in the Family, that I never doubted\nthe Truth of it. There liv'd, in the Parish of St. _Bennet Fynk_, near\nthe _Royal Exchange_, an honest poor Widow Woman, who, _her Husband\nbeing lately dead_, took Lodgers into her House; that is, she let out\nsome of her Rooms in order to lessen her own Charge of Rent; among the\nrest, she let her Garrets to a working Watchwheel-maker, or one some way\nconcern'd in making the Movements of Watches, and who work'd to those\nShop-keepers who sell Watches; as is usual.\nIt happened that a Man and Woman went up, to speak with this\nMovement-maker upon some Business which related to his Trade, and when\nthey were near the Top of the Stairs, the Garret-Door where he usually\nworked being wide open, they saw the poor Man (the Watch-maker, or\nWheel-maker) had hang'd himself upon a Beam which was left open in the\nRoom a little lower than the Plaister, or Ceiling: Surpriz'd at the\nSight, the Woman stop'd, and cried out to the Man who was behind her on\nthe Stairs that he should run up, and cut the poor Creature down.\nAt that very Moment comes a Man hastily from another Part of the Room\nwhich they upon the Stairs could not see, bringing a Joint-Stool in his\nHand, as if in great Haste, and sets it down just by the Wretch that was\nhang'd, and getting up as hastily upon it pulls a Knife out of his\nPocket, and taking hold of the Rope with one of his Hands, beckon'd to\nthe Woman and the Man behind her with his Head, as if to stop and not\ncome up, shewing them the Knife in his other Hand, as if he was just\ngoing to cut the poor Man down.\nUpon this, the Woman stopp'd a while, but the Man who stood on the\nJoint-Stool continued with his Hand and Knife as if fumbling at the\nKnot, but did not yet cut the Man down; at which the Woman cried out\nagain, and the Man behind her call'd to her. Go up, _says he_, and help\nthe Man upon the Stool! supposing something hindred. But the Man upon\nthe Stool made Signs to them again to be quiet, and not come on, as if\nsaying, I shall do it immediately; then he made two Strokes with his\nKnife, as if cutting the Rope, and then stopp'd again; and still the\npoor Man was hanging, and consequently dying: Upon this, the Woman on\nthe Stairs cried out to him. What ails you? Why don't you cut the poor\nMan down? And the Man behind her, having no more Patience, thrusts her\nby, and said to her. Let me come, I'll warrant you I'll do it; and with\nthat runs up and forward into the Room to the Man; but when he came\nthere, behold, the poor Man was there hanging; but no Man with a Knife,\nor Joint-Stool, or any such thing to be seen, all that was Spectre and\nDelusion, in order, no doubt, to let the poor Creature that had hang'd\nhimself perish and expire.\nThe Man was so frighted and surpriz'd, that with all the Courage he had\nbefore, he drop'd on the Floor as one dead, and the Woman at last was\nfain to cut the poor Man down with a Pair of Scissars, and had much to\ndo to effect it.\nAs I have no room to doubt the Truth of this Story, which I had from\nPersons on whose Honesty I could depend. So I think it needs very little\nTrouble to convince us who the Man upon the Stool must be, and that it\nwas the _Devil_ who plac'd himself there in order to finish the Murther\nof the Man who he had, _Devil_-like, tempted before, and prevail'd with\nto be his own Executioner. Besides, it corresponds so well with the\n_Devil_'s Nature, and with his Business, _viz._ that of a _Murtherer_,\nthat I never question'd it; nor can I think we wrong the _Devil_ at all\nto charge him with it.\n     _N. B._ I cannot be positive in the remaining Part of this Story,\n        _viz._ whether the Man was cut down soon enough to be recover'd,\n        or whether the _Devil_ carry'd his Point, and kept off the Man and\n        Woman till it was too late; but be it which it will, 'tis plain he\n        did his Devilish Endeavour, and stay'd till he was forc'd to\n        abscond again.\nWe have many solid Tales well attested, as well in History as in the\nReports of honest People, who could not be deceived, intimating the\n_Devil_'s personal Appearance, some in one Place, some in another; as\nalso sometimes in one Habit or Dress, and sometimes in another; and it\nis to be observed, that in none of those which are most like to be real,\nand in which there is least of Fancy and Vapour, you have any Mention of\nthe _Cloven Foot_, which rather seems to be a mere Invention of Men (and\nperhaps chiefly of those who had a Cloven Understanding) I mean a\nshallow kind of Craft, the Effect of an empty and simple Head, thinking\nby such a well-meant, tho' weak Fraud, to represent the _Devil_ to the\nold Women and Children of the Age, with some Addition suitable to the\nWeakness of their Intellects, and suited to making them afraid of him.\nI have another Account of a Person who travell'd upwards of four Years\nwith the _Devil_ in his Company, and convers'd most intimately with him\nall the while; nay, if I may believe the Story, he knew most part of the\nTime that he was the _Devil_, and yet convers'd with him, and that very\nprofitably, for he perform'd many very useful Services for him, and\nconstantly preserv'd him from the Danger of Wolves and wild Beasts,\nwhich the Country he travell'd thro' was intolerably full of. Where, by\nthe way, you are to understand, that the Wolves and Bears in those\nCountries knew the _Devil_, whatever Disguise he went in; or that the\n_Devil_ has some Way to fright Bears and such Creatures, more than we\nknow of. Nor could this _Devil_ ever be prevail'd upon to hurt him or\nany of his Company. This Account has an innumerable Number of diverting\nIncidents attending it; but they are equal to all the rest in Bulk, and\ntherefore too long for this Book.\nI find too upon some more ordinary Occasions the _Devil_ has appear'd to\nseveral People at their Call: This indeed shews abundance of good Humour\nin him, considering him as a _Devil_, and that he was mighty\ncomplaisant: Nay some, they tell us, have a Power to raise the _Devil_\nwhenever they think fit; this I cannot bring the _Devil_ to a Level\nwith, unless I should allow him to be _Servus Servorum_, as another\n_Devil_ in Disguise calls himself; subjected to ever old Wizard's Call;\nor that he is under a Necessity of appearing on such or such particular\nOccasions, whoever it is that calls him; which would bring the _Devil_'s\nCircumstances to a pitch of Slavery which I see no Reason to believe of\nthem.\nHere also I must take Notice again, that tho' I say the _Devil_, when I\nspeak of all these Apparitions, whether of a greater or lesser Kind, yet\nI am not oblig'd to suppose Satan himself in Person is concern'd to shew\nhimself, but that some of his _Agents_, Deputies and Servants, are sent\nto that Purpose, and directed what Disguise of Flesh and Blood to put\non, as may be suitable to the Occasion.\nThis seems to be the only Way to reconcile all those simple and\nridiculous Appearances which not _Satan_, but his Emissaries, (which we\nold Women call Imps) sometimes make, and the mean and sorry Employment\nthey are put to: Thus Fame tells us of a certain Witch of Quality, who\ncall'd the _Devil_ once to carry her over a Brook where the Water was\nswell'd with a hasty Rain, and lash'd him soundly with her Whip for\nletting her Ladyship fall into the Water before she was quite over. Thus\nalso, as Fame tells us, she set the _Devil_ to work, and made him build\n_Crowland_ Abbey, where there was no Foundation to be found, only for\ndisturbing the Workmen a little who were first set about it. So it\nseems another laborious _Devil_ was oblig'd to dig the great Ditch cross\nthe Country from the Fenn Country to the Edge of _Suffolk_ and _Essex_;\nwhich who ever he has preserv'd the Reputation of, and where it crosses\n_New-Market_ Heath, 'tis call'd _Devil_'s _Ditch_ to this Day.\nAnother Piece of Punishment no doubt it was, when the _Devil_ was\noblig'd to bring the Stones out of _Wales_ into _Wiltshire_, to build\n_Stone-heng_: How this was ordered in those Days, when it seems they\nkept _Satan_ to hard Labour, I know not; I believe it must be registred\namong the antient Pieces of Art which are lost in the World, such as\nmelting of Stone, painting of Glass, _&c._ Certainly they had the\n_Devil_ under Correction in those Days; that is to say, those lesser\nSorts of _Devils_; but I cannot think that the _muckle Thief Devil_, as\nthey call him in the _North_, the Grand Seignior _Devil_ of all, was\never reduced to Discipline. What _Devil_ it was that _Dunstan_ took by\nthe Nose with his red hot Tongs, I have not yet examin'd Antiquity\nenough to be certain of, any more than I can what Devil it was that St.\n_Francis_ play'd so many warm Tricks with, and made him run away from\nhim so often: However, this I take upon me to say, in the _Devil_'s\nBehalf, that it cou'd not be our _Satan_, the Arch _Devil_ of all\n_Devils_, of whom I have been talking so long.\nNow is it unworthy the Occasion, to take notice that we really wrong the\n_Devil_, and speak of him very much to his Disadvantage, when we say of\nsuch a Great Lord, or of such a Lady of Quality, _I think the_ Devil _is\nin your Grace_: No, no, Satan has other Business, he very rarely\npossesses F--ls: Besides, some are so far from having the _Devil_ in\nthem, that they are really transmigrated into the very Essence of the\n_Devil_ themselves; and others again not transmigrated, or assimilated,\nbut Indeed and in Truth shew us that they are to have mere native\n_Devils_ in every Part and Parcel of them, and that the rest is only\nMasque and Disguise. Thus if _Rage_, _Envy_, _Pride_ and _Revenge_ can\nconstitute the Parts of a _Devil_, why should not a Lady of such\nQuality, in whom all those Extraordinaries abound, have a Right to the\nTitle of being a _Devil_ really and substantially, and to all Intents\nand Purposes, in the most perfect and absolute Sense, according to the\nmost exquisite Descriptions of Devils already given by me or any Body\nelse; and even just as _Joan_ of _Arc_, or _Joan_ Queen of _Naples_\nwere, who were both sent home to their native Country, as soon as it was\ndiscovered that they were real _Devils_, and that _Satan_ acknowledg'd\nthem in that Quality.\nNor does my Lady D----ss's wearing sometimes a Case of Humanity about\nher, call'd _Flesh and Blood_, at all alter the Case; for so 'tis\nEvident, according to our present Hypothesis, _Satan_ has been always\nallow'd to do, upon urgent Occasions; ay, and to make his Personal\nAppearance as such, among even the Sons and Daughters of God too, as\nwell as among the Children of Men; and therefore _her Grace_ may have\nappeared in the Shape of a fine Lady, as long as she has been suppos'd\nto do, without any Impeachment of her just Claim to the Title of\n_Devil_; which being her true and natural Original, she ought not, nor\nindeed shall not, by me, be denied her Shapes of Honour, whenever she\npleases to declare for a Re-assumption.\nAnd farther, to give every Truth its due Illustration, this need not be\nthought so strange; and is far from being unjust; _her Grace_ (as she,\nit may be, is now stiled) has not acted, at least that I never heard of,\nso unworthy her great and illustrious Original, that we should think she\nhas lost any thing by walking about the World so many Years in\nApparition: But to give her the due Homage of her Quality, she has acted\nas consonant to the Essence and Nature of _Devil_, which she has such a\nClaim to, as was consistent with the needful Reserve of her present\nDisguise.\nNor shall we lead the Reader into any Mistake concerning this part of\nour Work, as if this was or is meant to be a particular Satyr upon the\nD-----ss of -----------, and upon her only, as if we had no DEVILS among\nus in the Phenomena of fair Ladies, but this one: If Satan would be so\nhonest to us as he might be (and 'twou'd be very ingenuous in him, that\nmust be acknowledg'd, to give us a little of his Illumination in this\nCase) we should soon be able to unmasque a great many notable Figures\namong us, to our real Surprize.\nIndeed 'tis a Point worth our further Enquiry, and would be a Discovery\nmany ways to our Advantage, were we bless'd with it, to see how many\nreal _Devils_ we have walking up and down the World in Masque, and how\nmany Hoop-Petticoats compleat the entire Masque that disguises the Devil\nin the Shape of that Thing call'd Woman.\nAs for the Men, Nature has satisfied her self in letting them be their\nown Disguise, and in suffering them to act the _old Women_, as old Women\nare vulgarly understood, in Matters of Council and Politicks; but if at\nany time they have Occasion for the _Devil_ in Person, they are oblig'd\nto call him to their Aid in such Shape as he pleases to make use of _pro\nhac vice_; and of all those Shapes, the most agreeable to him seems to\nbe that of a Female of Quality, in which he has infinite Opportunity to\nact to Perfection, what Part soever he is call'd in for.\nHow happy are those People who they say have the particular Quality, or\nacquir'd Habit, call'd the _Second Sight_; one Sort of whom they tell us\nare able to distinguish the _Devil_, in whatever Case or Outside of\nFlesh and Blood he is pleas'd to put on, and consequently could know the\n_Devil_ wherever they met him? Were I blest with this excellent and\nuseful Accomplishment, how pleasant would it be, and how would it\nparticularly gratify my Spleen, and all that which I, in common with my\nfellow Creatures carry about me, call'd Ill-Nature, to stand in the\n_Mall_, or at the Entrance to any of our _Assemblies of Beauties_, and\npoint them out as they pass by, with this particular Mark, That's a\n_Devil_; that fine young Toast is a _Devil_; There's a _Devil_ drest in\na new Habit for the Ball; There's a _Devil_ in a Coach and Six, _cum\naliis_. In short, it would make a merry World among us if we cou'd but\nenter upon some proper Method of such Discriminations: but, _Lawr'd_,\nwhat a Hurricane would it raise, if, like -------, who they say scourg'd\nthe _Devil_ so often that he durst not come near him in any Shape\nwhatever, we cou'd find some new Method out to make the _Devil_ unmask,\nlike the Angel _Uriel_, who, Mr. _Milton_ says, had an enchanted Spear,\nwith which if he did but touch the _Devil_, in whatever Disguise he had\nput on, it oblig'd him immediately to start up, and shew himself in his\ntrue original Shape, mere _Devil_ as he was.\nThis would do nicely, and as I who am originally a Projector, have spent\nsome Time upon this Study, and doubt not in a little Time to finish my\nEngine, which I am contriving, to screw the _Devil_ out of every Body,\nor any Body; I question not when I have brought it to Perfection, but I\nshall make most excellent Discoveries by it; and besides the many\nextraordinary Advantages of it to human Society, I doubt not but it will\nmake good Sport in the World too; wherefore, when I publish my\nProposals, and divide it into Shares, as other less useful Projects have\nbeen done, I question not, for all the severe Act lately pass'd against\nBubbles, but I shall get Subscribers enough, _&c._\nIn a Word, a secret Power of discovering what Devils we have among us,\nand where and what Business they are doing, would be a vast Advantage to\nus all; that we might know among the Crowd of _Devils_ that walk about\nStreets, who are _Apparitions_, and who are not.\nNow I, you must know, at certain Intervals when the Old Gentleman's\nIlluminations are upon me, and when I have something of an\n_Eclaricissement_ with him, have some Degrees of this discriminating\n_Second Sight_, and therefore 'tis no strange thing for me to tell a\ngreat many of my Acquaintance that they are really _Devils_, when they\nthemselves know nothing of the Matter: Sometimes indeed I find it pretty\nhard to convince them of it, or at least they are very unwilling to own\nit, but it is not the less so for that.\nI had a long Discourse upon this Subject one day, with a young beautiful\nLady of my Acquaintance, who the World very much admired; and as the\nWorld judges no farther than they can see, (and how should they, you\nwould say) they took her to be, as she really was, a most charming\nCreature.\nTo me indeed she discover'd her self many Ways, besides the Advantage I\nhad of my extraordinary Penetration by the magic Powers which I am\nvested with: To me, _I say_, she appear'd a Fury, a Satyr, a fiery\nlittle Fiend as could possibly be dress'd up in Flesh; in short, she\nappear'd to me what really she was, a very DEVIL: It is natural to human\nCreatures to desire to discover any extraordinary Powers they are\npossess'd of superior to others, and this Itch prevailing in me, among\nthe rest, I was impatient to let this Lady know that I understood her\nComposition perfectly well, nay, as well as she did her self.\nIn order to this, happening to be in the Family once for some Days, and\nhaving the Honour to be very intimate with her and her Husband too, I\ntook an Opportunity on an extraordinary Occasion, when she was in the\nHeight of good Humour, to talk with her; You must note, that as I said,\nthe Lady was in an extraordinary good Humour, and there had been a great\ndeal of Mirth in the Family for some Days; but one Evening, Sir _E----_\nher Husband, upon some very sharp Turn she gave to another Gentleman,\nwhich made all the Company pleasant, run to her, and with a Passion of\ngood Humour takes her in his Arms, and turning to me, says he, Jack,\nThis Wife of mine is full of Wit and good Humour, but when she has a\nMind to be smart, she is the keenest little _Devil_ in the World: This\nwas alluding to the quick Turn she had given the other Gentleman.\nIs that the best Language you can give your Wife, says my Lady? O Madam,\nsays I, such _Devils_ as you, are all _Angels_; ay, ay, says my Lady, I\nknow that, he has only let a Truth fly out that he does not understand:\nLook ye there now, _says Sir_ Edward, could any thing but such a dear\n_Devil_ as this have said a thing so pointed? Well, well, adds he,\n_Devil_ to a Lady in a Man's Arms, is a Word of divers Interpretations.\nThus they rallied for a good while, he holding her fast all the while in\nhis Arms, and frequently kissing her, and at last it went off, all in\nSunshine and Mirth.\nBut the next Day, for I had the Honour to lodge in the Lady's Father's\nHouse, where it all happen'd; I say, the next Day my Lady begins with me\nupon the Subject, and that very smartly, so that first I did not know\nwhether she was in jest or earnest: Ay, ay, _says she_, you Men make\nnothing of your Wives after you have them, _alluding to the Discourse\nwith_ Sir Edward _the Night before_.\nWhy Madam, says I, _we Men_, as you are pleas'd to term it, if we meet\nwith good Wives worship them, and make Idols of them, what would you\nhave more of us?\nNo, no, says she, before you have them they are Angels, but when you\nhave been in Heaven, _adds she and smil'd_, then they are Devils.\nWhy Madam, _says I_, Devils are Angels, you know, and were the highest\nSort of Angels once.\nYes, _says she_, very smartly, all _Devils_ are Angels, but all Angels\nare not _Devils_.\nBut Madam, _says I_, you should never take it ill to be call'd _Devil_,\nyou know.\nI know, _says she_, hastily, what d'ye mean by that?\nWhy Madam, _says I_, and look'd very gravely and serious, I thought you\nhad known that I knew it, or else I would not have said so, for I would\nnot offend you; but you may depend I shall never discover it, unless you\norder me to do so for your particular Service.\nUpon this she look'd hard and wild, and bid me explain my self.\nI told her, I was ready to explain my self, if she would give me her\nWord, she would not resent it, and would take nothing ill.\nShe gave me her word solemnly she would not, tho' like a true _Devil_\nshe broke her Promise with me all at once.\nWell however, being unconcern'd whether she kept her Word or no, I\nbegan, by telling her that I had not long since obtain'd the second\nsight, and had some years studied Magic, by which I could penetrate into\nmany things, which to ordinary Perception were invisible, and had some\nGlasses, by the Help of which I could see into all visionary or\nimaginary Appearances in a different Manner than other People did.\nVery well, _says she_, suppose you can, what's that to me?\nI told her it was nothing to her any further than that as she knew her\nself to be originally not the same Creature she seem'd to be, but was of\na sublime angelic Original; so by the Help of my recited Art I knew it\ntoo, and so far it might relate to her.\nVery fine, says she, so you would make a _Devil_ of me indeed.\nI took that Occasion to tell her, I would make nothing of her but what\nshe was; that I suppos'd she knew well enough God Almighty never thought\nfit to make any human Creature so perfect and compleatly beautiful as\nshe was, but that such were also reserved for Figures to be assum'd by\nAngels of one Kind or other.\nShe rallied me upon that, and told me that would not bring me off, for I\nhad not determined her for any thing Angelic, but a meer _Devil_; and\nhow could I flatter her with being handsome and a _Devil_ both at the\nsame time?\nI told her, as Satan, whom we abusively call'd _Devil_, was an immortal\nSeraph, and of an original angelic Nature, so abstracted from any thing\nwicked, he was a most glorious Being; that when he thought fit to encase\nhimself with Flesh, and walk about in Disguise, it was in his Power\nequally with the other Angels to make the Form he took upon himself be\nas he thought fit, beautiful or deform'd.\nHere she disputed the Possibility of that, and after charging me faintly\nwith flattering her Face, told me the Devil could not be represented by\nany thing handsome, alledging our constant picturing the _Devil_ in all\nthe frightful Appearances imaginable.\nI told her we wrong'd him very much in that, and quoted St. _Francis_,\nto whom the _Devil_ frequently appeared in the Form of the most\nincomparably beautiful naked Woman, to allure him, and what Means he\nused to turn the Appearance into a _Devil_ again, and how he effected\nit.\nShe put by the Discourse, and returned to that of Angels, and insisted\nthat Angels did not always assume beautiful Appearances; that sometimes\nthey appear'd in terrible Shapes, but that when they did not, it was at\nbest only amiable Faces, not exquisite; and that therefore it would not\nhold, that to be handsome, should always render them suspected.\nI told her the _Devil_ had more Occasion to form Beauties than other\nAngels had, his Business being principally to deceive and ensnare\nMankind. And then I gave her some Examples upon the whole.\nI found by her Discourse she was willing enough to pass for an _Angel_,\nbut 'twas the hardest thing in the World to convince her that she was a\nDEVIL, and she would not come into that by any means; she argued that I\nknew her Father, and that her Mother was a very good Woman, and was\ndelivered of her in the ordinary Way, and that there was such and such\nLadies who were present in the Room when she was born, and that had\noften told her so.\nI told her that was nothing in such a Case as hers; that when the Old\nGentleman had occasion to transform himself into a fine Lady, he could\neasily dispose of a Child, and place himself in the Cradle instead of\nit, when the Nurse or Mother were asleep; nay, or when they were broad\nawake either, it was the same thing to him; and I quoted _Luther_ to her\nupon that Occasion, who affirms that it had been so. However I said, to\nconvince her that I knew it, (for I would have it that she knew it\nalready) if she pleas'd I would go to my Chamber and fetch her my Magick\nLooking-glass, where she should see her own Picture, not only as it was\nan angelick Picture for the World to admire, but a _Devil_ also\nfrightful enough to any Body but herself and me that understood it.\nNo, no, _said she_, I'll look in none of your conjuring Glasses; I know\nmy self well enough, and I desire to look no otherwise than I am.\nNo, Madam, _says I_, I know that very well; nor do you need any better\nShape than that you appear in, 'tis most exquisitely fine; all the World\nknows you are a compleat Beauty, and that is a clear Evidence what you\nwould be if your present appearing Form was reduced to its proper\nPersonality.\n_Appearing Form!_ says she, why, what would you make an _Apparition_ of\nme?\nAn _Apparition!_ Madam, said I, yes, to be sure; why you know, you are\nnothing else but an _Apparition_; and what else would you be, when it is\nso infinitely to your Advantage?\nWith that, she turn'd pale and angry, and then rose up hastily, and\nlook'd into the Glass, (_a large Peer-glass being in the Room_) where\nshe stood, surveying her self from Head to Foot, with Vanity not a\nlittle.\n     I took that Time to slip away, and running up into my Apartment, I\n        fetch'd my _Magic Glass_ as I call'd it, in which I had a hollow\n        Case so framed behind a Looking-glass, that in the first; she would\n        see her own Face only; in the second, she would see the _Devil_'s\n        Face, ugly and frightful enough, but dress'd up with a Lady's\n        Head-Clothes in a Circle, the _Devil_'s Face in the Center, and as\n        it were at a little Distance behind.\nI came down again so soon that she did not think the Time long,\nespecially having spent it in surveying her fair self; when I return'd,\nI said, Come, Madam, do not trouble your self to look there, that is not\na Glass capable of shewing you any thing; come, take this Glass.\nIt will shew me as much of my self, _says she, a little scornfully_, as\nI desire to see; so she continued looking in the Peer-glass; after some\ntime more (for seeing her a little out of Humour, I waited to see what\nObservations she would make) I ask'd her if she had view'd her self to\nher Satisfaction? She said she had, and she had seen nothing of _Devil_\nabout her. Come, Madam, said I, look here; and with that I open'd the\nLooking-glass, and she look'd in it, but saw nothing but her own Face;\nWell, _says she_, the Glasses agree well enough, I see no Difference;\nwhat can you make of it? With that I took it a little away; Don't you?\n_says I_, then I shou'd be mistaken very much; so I look'd in it my\nself, and giving it a Turn imperceptible to her, I shew'd it her again,\nwhere she saw the _Devil_ indeed, dress'd up like a fine Lady, but\nugly, and _Devil_ like as could be desired for a _Devil_ to be.\nShe started, and cry'd out most horribly, and told me, she thought I was\nmore of a _Devil_ than she, for that she knew nothing of all those\nTricks, and I did it to fright her, she believ'd I had rais'd the\n_Devil_.\nI told her it was nothing but her own natural Picture, and that she knew\nwell enough, and that I did not shew it her to inform her of it, but to\nlet her know that I knew it too; that so she might make no Pretences of\nbeing offended when I talk'd familiarly to her of a Thing of this\nNature.\nVery well; so, _says she_, I am a real frightful _Devil_, am I?\nO, Madam, says I, don't say, _Am I?_ why you know what you are, don't\nyou? A _Devil_! ay, certainly; as sure as the rest of the World believes\nyou a Lady.\nI had a great deal of farther Discourse with her upon that Subject, tho'\nshe would fain have beat me off of it, and two or three times she put\nthe Talk off, and brought something else on; but I always found Means to\nrevive it, and to attack her upon the Reality of her being a Devil, till\nat last I made her downright angry, and then she shew'd it.\nFirst she cried, told me I came to affront her, that I would not talk so\nif Sir _Ed----_ was by; and that she ought not to be used so. I\nendeavour'd to pacify her, and told her I had not treated her with any\nIndecency, nor I would not; because while she thought fit to walk Abroad\n_incog._ it was none of my Business to discover her; that if she thought\nfit to tell Sir _Ed----_ any thing of the Discourse, she was very\nwelcome, or to conceal it, (_which I thought the wisest Course_) she\nshould do just as she pleas'd; but I made no question I should convince\nSir _E----_ her Husband, that what I said was just, and that I was\nreally so; whether it was for her Service or no for him to know it, was\nfor her to consider.\nThis calm'd her a little, and she look'd hard at me a Minute without\nspeaking a Word, when on a sudden she broke out thus: And you will\nundertake, _says she_, to convince Sir _Ed----_ that he has married a\n_Devil_, will ye? A fine Story indeed! and what follows? why then it\nmust follow that the Child I go with (for she was big with Child) will\nbe a _Devil_ too, will it? A fine Story for Sir _Ed----_ indeed! isn't\nit?\nI don't know that, Madam, said I, that's as you order it; by the\nFather's Side, _said I_, I know it will not, but what it may by the\nMother's Side, that's a Doubt I can't resolve till the _Devil_ and I\ntalk farther about it.\nYou and the Devil talk together! _says she_, and looks rufully at me;\nwhy do you talk with the _Devil_ then?\nAy, Madam, _says I_, as sure as ever you did your self; besides, said I,\ncan you question that? Pray who am I talking to now?\nI think you are mad, _says she_; why you will make _Devils_ of all the\nFamily, it may be, and particularly I must be with Child of a _Devil_,\nthat's certain.\nNo, Madam, _said I_, 'tis not certain, as I said before, I question it.\nWhy you say I am the DEVIL, the Child, you know, has always most of the\nMother in it, then that must be a Devil too I think, what else can it\nbe, _says she_?\nI can't tell that, Madam, _said I_; that's as you agree among your\nselves, this Kind does not go by Generation; that's a Dispute foreign to\nthe present Purpose.\nThen I entred into a Discourse with her of the Ends and Purposes for\nwhich the Devil takes up such beautiful Forms as hers, and why it always\ngave me a Suspicion when I saw a Lady handsomer than ordinary, and set\nme upon the Search to be satisfied whether she was really a Woman or an\n_Apparition_? a Lady or a Devil? allowing all along that her being a\nDevil was quite out of the Question.\nUpon that very Foot, she took me up again roundly, and so, _says she_,\nyou are very civil to me through all your Discourse, for I see it ends\nall in that, and you take it as a thing confest, that I am a Devil! A\nvery pretty piece of good Usage indeed! _says she_; _I thank you for\nit_.\nNay, Madam, _says I_, do not take it ill of me, for I only discover to\nyou that I knew it; I do not tell it you as a Secret, for you are\nsatisfied of that another way.\nSatisfied of what? says she, that I am a Devil? I think the Devil's in\nyou: _And so began to be hot_.\nA Devil! yes, Madam, says I, without doubt a meer DEVIL; take it as you\nplease, I can't help that: And so I began to take it ill that she should\nbe disgusted at opening such a well-known Truth to her.\nWith that she discover'd it all at once, for she turn'd _Fury_, in the\nvery Letter of it; flew out in a Passion, rail'd at me, curst me most\nheartily, and immediately disappeared; which you know is the particular\nMark of a Spirit or Apparition.\nWe had a great deal of Discourse besides this, relating to several other\nyoung Ladies of her Acquaintance, some of which, I said, were mere\n_Apparitions_ like her self; and told her which were so, and which not;\nand the Reason why they were so, and for what Uses and Purposes, some\nto delude the World one way, and some another; and she was pretty well\npleased to hear that, but she could not bear to hear her own true\nCharacter, which however, as cunning as she was, made her act the Devil\nat last, as you have heard; and then vanished out of my sight.\nI have seen her in Miniature several Times since; but she proves her\nself still to be the Devil of a Lady, for she bears Malice, and will\nnever forgive me, that I would not let her be an Angel; but like a very\nDevil as she is, she endeavours to kill me at a Distance; and indeed the\nPoison of her Eyes, (Basilisk-like) is very strong, and she has a\nstrange Influence upon me; but I that know her to be a Devil, strive\nvery hard with my self to drive the Memory of her out of my Thoughts.\nI have had two or three Engagements since this, with other _Apparitions_\nof the same Sex, and I find they are all alike, they are willing enough\nto be thought Angels, but the Word Devil does not go down at all with\nthem: But 'tis all one, whenever we see an _Apparition_, it is so\nnatural to say we have seen the Devil, that there's no prevailing with\nMankind to talk any other Language. A Gentleman of my Acquaintance, the\nother Day, that had courted a Lady a long time, had the Misfortune to\ncome a little suddenly upon her, when she did not expect him, and found\nher in such a Rage at some of her Servants, that it quite disorder'd\nher, especially a Footman; the Fellow had done something that was indeed\nprovoking, but not sufficient to put her into such a Passion, and so out\nof her self; nor was she able to restrain her self when she saw her\nLover come in, but damn'd the Fellow, and rag'd like a Fury at him.\nMy Friend did his best to compose her, and begg'd the Fellow's Pardon of\nher, but it would not do; nay, the poor Fellow made all the Submissions\nthat could be expected, but 'twas the same thing: And so the Gentleman,\nnot caring to engage himself farther than became him, withdrew, and came\nno more at her for three Days, in all which time she was hardly cool.\nThe next Day my Friend came to me, and talking of it in Confidence to\nme, I am afraid, _says he_, I am going to marry a She _Devil_, and so\ntold me the Story; I took no Notice to him, but finding out his\nMistress, and taking proper Measures, with some of my particular Skill,\nI soon found out that it was really so, that she was a mere\n_Apparition_; and had it not been for that accidental Disorder of her\nPassions, which discover'd her Inside, she might indeed have cheated any\nMan, for she was a lovely Devil as ever was seen; she talk'd like an\nAngel, sung like a Syren, did every thing, and said every thing that was\ntaking and charming: But what then? it was all Apparition, for she was a\nmere _Devil_. It is true, my Friend marry'd her, and tho' she was a\n_Devil_ without doubt, yet either she behav'd so well, or he was so\ngood, I never could hear him find Fault with her.\nThese are particular Instances; but alas! I could run you a Length\nbeyond all those Examples, and give you such a List of Devils among the\ngay Things of the Town, that would fright you to think of; and you would\npresently conclude, with me, that all the perfect Beauties are Devils,\nmere Apparitions; but Time and Paper fails, so we must only leave the\nMen the Caution, let them venture at their Peril. I return to the\nSubject.\nWe have a great many charming _Apparitions_ of like kind go daily about\nthe World in compleat Masquerade, and, tho' we must not say so, they are\nin themselves mere _Devils_, wicked dangerous murthering Devils, that\nkill various Ways, some, Basilisk-like, with their Eyes; some\nSyren-like, with their Tongues; all _Murtherers_, even from the\n_Beginning_: It is true, 'tis pity these pretty _Apparitions_ should be\nDevils, and be so mischievous as they are; but since it is so, I can do\nno less than to advertise you of it, that you may shun the Devil in\nwhatever Shape you meet with him.\nAgain, there are some half Devils, they say, like the _Sagittarii_, half\nMan, half Horse, or rather like the _Satyr_, who, _they say_, is half\nDevil, half Man; or, like my Lord Bishop, who, _they say_, was\nhalf-headed; whether they mean half-witted or no, I do not find Authors\nagreed about it: But if they had voted him such, it had been as kind a\nthing as any they cou'd say of him, because it would have clear'd him\nfrom the Scandal of being a Devil, or half a Devil, for we don't find\nthe Devil makes any Alliance with F----ls.\nThen as to merry Devils, there's my Master _G------_, he may indeed have\nthe Devil in him, but it must be said, to the Credit of Possession in\ngeneral, that Satan would have scorn'd to have entred into a Soul so\nnarrow that there was not room to hold him, or to take up with so\ndiscording a Creature, so abject, so scoundrel, as never made a Figure\namong Mankind greater than that of a Thief, a _Moroder_, moulded up into\nQuality, and a Raparee dress'd up _a-la-Masque_, with a _Robe_ and a\n_Coronet_.\nSome little Dog-kennel Devil may indeed take up his Quarters in or near\nhim, and so run into and out of him as his Drum beats a Call; but to\nhim that was born a _Devil_, Satan, that never acts to no purpose, cou'd\nnot think him worth being possess'd by any thing better than a Devil of\na dirty Quality; that is to say, a Spirit too mean to wear the Name of\n_Devil_, without some Badge or Addition of Infamy and Meanness to\ndistinguish it by.\nThus what _Devil_ of Quality would be confin'd to a _P--------n_, who\ninheriting all the Pride and Insolence of his Ancestors, without one of\ntheir good Qualities; the Bully, the _Billingsgate_, and all the\nhereditary ill Language of his Family, without an Ounce of their\nCourage; that has been rescued five or six times from the Scandal of a\nCoward, by the Bravery, and at the Hazard of Friends, and never fail'd\nto be ungrateful; that if ever he committed a Murther, did it in cold\nBlood, because no body could prove he ever had any hot; who possess'd\nwith a Poltroon _Devil_, was always wickeder in the Dark, than he durst\nbe by Day-light; and who, after innumerable passive Sufferings, has been\nturned out of human Society, because he could not be kick'd or cuff'd\neither into good Manners or good Humour.\nTo say this was a _Devil_, an Apparition, or even a half _Devil_, would\nbe unkind to _Satan_ himself, since tho' he (the _Devil_) has so many\nMillions of inferior _Devils_ under his Command, not one cou'd be found\nbase enough to match him, nor one _Devil_ found but what would think\nhimself dishonour'd to be employ'd about him.\nSome merry good-for-nothing _Devils_ we have indeed, which we might, if\nwe had room, speak of at large, and divert you too with the Relation,\nsuch as my Lady _Hatt's Devil_ in _Essex_, who upon laying a Joiner's\nMallet in the Window of a certain Chamber, would come very orderly and\nknock with it all Night upon the Window, or against the Wainscot, and\ndisturb the Neighbourhood, and then go away in the Morning, as well\nsatisfied as may be; whereas if the Mallet was not left, he would think\nhimself affronted, and be as unsufferable and terrifying as possible,\nbreaking the Windows, splitting the Wainscot, committing all the\nDisorders, and doing all the Damage that he was able to the House, and\nto the Goods in it. And again, such as the Druming _Devil_ in the Well\nat _Oundle_ in _Northamptonshire_, and such like.\nA great many antick _Devils_ have been seen also, who seem'd to have\nlittle or nothing to do, but only to assure us that they can appear if\nthey please, and that there is a Reality in the thing call'd Apparition.\nAs to Shadows of _Devils_, and imaginary Appearances, such as appear,\nand yet are invisible at the same time, I had thought to have bestow'd a\nChapter upon them by themselves, but it may be as much to the Purpose to\nlet them alone, as to meddle with them; 'tis said our old Friend\n_Luther_ used to be exceedingly troubled with such invisible\nApparitions, and he tells us much of them, in what they call his\nTable-talk; but with Master _Luther_'s leave, tho' the _Devil_ passes\nfor a very great Lyar, I could swallow many things of his own proper\nmaking, as soon as some of those I find in a Book that goes by his Name,\nparticularly the Story of the Devil in a Basket, the Child flying out of\nthe Cradle, and the like.\nIn a word, the walking _Devils_ that we have generally among us, are of\nthe female Sex; whether it be that the _Devil_ finds less Difficulty to\nmanage them, or that he lives quieter with them, or that they are fitter\nfor his Business than the Men, I shall not now enter into a Dispute\nabout that; perhaps he goes better disguis'd in the fair Sex than\notherwise; Antiquity gives us many Histories of She-Devils, such as we\ncan very seldom match for Wickedness among the Men; such now as in the\nText, _Lot_'s Daughters, _Joseph_'s Mistress, _Sampson_'s _Dalilah_,\n_Herod_'s _Herodias_, these were certainly _Devils_, or play'd the\n_Devil_ sufficiently in their Turn; one Male Apparition indeed the\nScripture furnishes you with, and that is _Judas_; for his Master says\nexpresly of him, _One of you is a Devil_; not has the _Devil_, or is\npossess'd of the DEVIL; but really is a DEVIL, or is a real DEVIL.\nHow happy is it, that this great Secret comes thus to be discover'd to\nmankind? Certainly the World has gone on in Ignorance a long time, and\nat a strange rate, that we should have so many _Devils_ continually\nwalking about among us in humane Shape, and we know it not.\nPhilosophers tell us that there is a World of Spirits, and many learned\nPieces of Guess-work they make at it, representing the World to be so\nnear us, that the Air, as they describe it, must be full of Dragons and\n_Devils_, enough to fright our Imaginations with the very Thoughts of\nthem; and if they say true, 'tis our great Felicity that we cannot see\nany farther into it than we do, which if we could, would appear as\nfrightful as Hell itself; but none of those Sages ever told us, till\nnow, that half the People who converse with us are _Apparitions_,\nespecially of the Women; and among them especially this valuable Part,\nthe Woman of Figure, the fair, the beautiful, or patch'd and painted.\nThis unusual Ph\u00e6nomenon has been seen but a little while, and but a\nlittle way, and the general Part of Mankind cannot come into the same\nNotions about it; nay, perhaps they will all think it strange; but be\nit as strange as it will, the Nature of the Thing confirms it, this\nlower Sphere is full of _Devils_; and some of both Sexes have given\nstrange Testimonies of the Reality of their pre-existent _Devilism_ for\nmany Ages past, tho' I think it never came to that Height as it has now.\nIt is true, in former times Satan dealt much in old Women, and those, as\nI have observ'd already, very ugly, _Ugly as a Witch_, _Black as a\nWitch_, _I look like a Witch_, all proverbial Speeches, and which\ntestify'd what Tools it was Satan generally work'd with; and these old\nSpectres, they tell us, us'd to ride thro' the Air in the Night, and\nupon Broomsticks too, all mighty homely Doings; some say they us'd to go\nto visit their Grand Seignior the _Devil_, in those Nocturnal\nPerambulations: But be that as it will, 'tis certain the _Devil_ has\nchang'd hands, and that now he walks about the World cloth'd in Beauty,\ncover'd with the Charms of the Lovely, and he fails not to disguise\nhimself effectually by it, for who would think a beautiful Lady could be\na Masque to the Devil? and that a fine Face, a divine Shape, a heavenly\nAspect, should bring the _Devil_ in her Company, nay, should be herself\nan _Apparition_, a mere DEVIL.\nThe Enquiry is indeed worth our while, and therefore I hope all the\nenamour'd Beaus and Boys, all the Beauty-hunters and Fortune-hunters,\nwill take heed, for I suppose if they get the _Devil_, they will not\ncomplain for want of a Fortune; and there's Danger enough, I assure you,\nfor the World is full of Apparitions, _non rosa sine spinis_; not a\nBeauty without a _Devil_, the old Women Spectres, and the young Women\nApparitions; the ugly ones Witches, and the handsome ones _Devils_;\nLord ha' Mercy, and a [Illustration: Cross] may be Set on the Man's Door\nthat goes a courting.\nCHAP. VIII.\n_Of the Cloven-Foot walking about the World without the_ Devil, (viz.) _of\n     Witches making Bargains for the_ Devil, _and particularly of selling\n     the Soul to the_ Devil.\nI have dwelt long upon the _Devil_ in Masque as he goes about the World\nincog. and especially without his Cloven-Foot, and have touched upon\nsome of his Disguises in the Management of his Interest in the World; I\nmust say some of his Disguises only, for who can give a full account of\nall his Tricks and Arts in so narrow a Compass as I am prescrib'd to?\nBut as I said, that every _Devil_ has not a Cloven-Foot, so I must add\nnow for the present Purpose, that every Cloven-Foot is not the Devil.\nNot but that wherever I should meet the Cloven-Hoof, I should expect\nthat the _Devil_ was not far off, and should be apt to raise the Posse\nagainst him, to apprehend him; yet it may happen otherwise, that's\ncertain; every Coin has its Counterfeit, every Art its Pretender, every\nWhore her Admirer, every Error its Patron, and every Day has its DEVIL.\nI have had some thought of making a full and compleat Discovery here of\nthat great Doubt which has so long puzzl'd the World, namely, whether\nthere is any such Thing, as secret making Bargains with the Devil, and\nthe first positive Assurance I can give you in the Case, is, that if\nthere is not, 'tis not his Fault, 'tis not for want of his Endeavour,\n'tis plain, if you will pardon me for taking so mean a Step, as that of\nquoting Scripture; I say, 'tis evident he would fain have made a\nContract with our Saviour, and he bid boldly (_give him his due_)\nnamely, _all the Kingdoms of the World for one bend of his Knee_:\nImpudent Seraph! To think thy Lord should pay thee Homage! How many\nwould agree with him here for a less Price! They say, _Oliver Cromwell_\nstruck a Bargain with him, and that he gave _Oliver_ the Protectorship,\nbut would not let him call himself King, which stuck so close to that\n_Furioso_, that the Mortification Spread into his Soul, and 'tis said,\nhe dy'd of a Gangreen in the Spleen. But take Notice and do _Oliver_\nJustice; I do not vouch the Story, neither does the Bishop say one Word\nof it.\nFame us'd to say, that the old famous Duke of _Luxemburg_ made a Magic\ncompact of this Kind; nay, I have heard many an (old Woman) Officer of\nthe Troops, who never car'd to see his Face, declare that he carry'd the\nDevil at his Back. I remember a certain Author of a News Paper in\n_London_ was once taken up, and they say, it cost him 50_l._ for\nprinting in his News, that _Luxemburg_ was _Humpback'd_. Now if I have\nresolv'd the Difficulty, namely, that he was not hump'd, only carry'd\nthe _Devil_ at his Back; I think the poor Man should have his 50_l._\nagain, or I should have it for the Discovery.\nI confess, I do not well understand this compacting with such a Fellow\nas can neither write nor read; nor do I know who is the Scrivener\nbetween them, or how the Indenture can be executed; but that which is\nworse than all the rest is, that in _the first Place_, the _Devil_ never\nkeeps Articles; he will contract perhaps, and they say he is mighty\nforward to make Conditions; but who shall bind him to the Performance,\nand where is the Penalty if he fails? if we agree with him, he will be\napt enough to claim his Bargain and demand Payment; nay, perhaps before\nit is due; but who shall make him stand to his.\nBesides, he is a Knave in his Dealing, for he really promises what he\ncannot perform; witness his impudent Proposal to our Lord mentioned\nabove. _All these Kingdoms will I give_ thee! _Lying Spirit!_ Why they\nwere none of thine to give, no not one of them; for the Earth is the\nLords and the kingdoms thereof, nor were they in his Power any more than\nin his Right: So (I have heard that) some poor dismal Creatures have\nsold themselves to the Devil for a Sum of Money, for so much Cash, and\nyet even in that Case, when the Day of Payment came, I never heard that\nhe brought the Money or paid the Purchase, so that he is a Scoundrel in\nhis Treaties, for you shall trust for your Bargain, but not be able to\nget your Money; and yet for your Part, he comes for you to an Hour: _Of\nwhich by it self_.\nIn a Word, let me caution you all, when you trade with the Devil, either\nget the Price or quit the Bargain; the _Devil_ is a cunning Shaver, he\nwill wriggle himself out of the Performance on his Side if possible, and\nyet expect you should be punctual on your Side. They tell you of a poor\nFellow in _Herefordshire_, that offer'd to sell his Soul to him for a\nCow, and though the _Devil_ promised, and as they say, sign'd the\nWritings, yet the poor Countryman could never get the Cow of him, but\nstill as he brought a Cow to him, some body or other came and challeng'd\nit, proving that it was lost or stolen from them; so that the Man got\nnothing but the Name of a Cow-stealer, and was at last carried to\n_Hereford_ Goal, and condemn'd to be hang'd for stealing two Cows, one\nafter the other: The wicked Fellow was then in the greatest Distress\nimaginable, he summon'd his _Devil_ to help him out, but he failed him,\nas the _Devil_ always will; he really had not stolen the Cows, but they\nwere found in his Possession, and he could give no Account how he came\nby them; at last he was driven to confess the Truth, told the horrid\nBargain he had made, and how the _Devil_ often promis'd him a Cow, but\nnever gave him one, except that several Times in the Morning early he\nfound a Cow put into his Yard, but it always prov'd to belong to some of\nhis Neighbours: Whether the Man was hang'd or no, the Story does not\nrelate; but this Part is to my Purpose, that they that make Bargains\nwith the _Devil_, ought to make him give Security for the Performance of\nCovenants, and who the Devil would get to be bound for him, I can't\ntell, they must look to that who make the Bargain: Besides, if he had\nnot had a Mind to cheat or baffle the poor Man, what need he have taken\na Cow so near home? if he had such and such Powers as we talk of, and as\nFancy and Fable furnish for him, could not he have carried a Cow in the\nAir upon a Broom-stick, as well as an old Woman? Could he not have stole\na Cow for him in _Lincolnshire_, and set it down in _Herefordshire_, and\nso have performed his Bargain, saved his Credit, and kept the poor Man\nout of Trouble? so that if the Story is True, as I really believe it is,\neither it is not the Devil that makes those Bargains, or the Devil has\nnot such Power as we bestow on him, except on Special Occasions he gets\na Permit, and is bid go, as in the Case of _Job_, the _Gadaren Hogs_,\nand the like.\nWe have another Example of a Man's selling himself to the _Devil_, that\nis very remarkable, and that is in the Bible too, and even in that, I\ndo not find, what the _Devil_ did for him, in Payment of the Purchase\nPrice. The Person selling was _Ahab_, of whom the Text says expresly,\n_there was none like_ him, _who did sell himself to work Wickedness in\nthe Sight of the_ LORD, 1 _Kings_ xxi. 20, and the 25. I think it might\nhave been rendred, if not translated _in Spight of the Lord_, or _in\nDefiance of God_; for certainly that's the Meaning of it; and now\nallowing me to preach a little upon this Text, my Sermon shall be very\nshort. _Ahab_ sold himself, who did he sell himself to? I answer that\nQuestion by a Question; who would buy him? who, _as we say_, would give\nany thing for him? and the Answer to that is plain also, you may judge\nof the Purchaser by the Work he was to do; he that buys a Slave in the\nMarket, buys him to work for him, and to do such Business as he has for\nhim to do: _Ahab_ was bought to work wickedness, and who would buy him\nfor that but the _Devil_?\nI think there's no room to doubt but _Ahab_ sold himself to the Devil;\nthe Text is plain that he sold himself, and the Work he was sold to do\npoints out the Master that bought him; what Price he agreed with the\n_Devil_ for, that indeed the Text is silent in, so we may let it alone,\nnor is it much to our Purpose, unless it be to enquire whether the\n_Devil_ stood to his Bargain or not, and whether he paid the Money\naccording to Agreement, or cheated him as he did the Farmer at\n_Hereford_.\nThis buying and selling between the _Devil_ and us, is, I must confess,\nan odd kind of Stock-jobbing, and indeed the _Devil_ may be said to sell\nthe _Bear-skin_, whatever he buys; but the strangest Part is when he\ncomes to demand the transfer; for as I hinted before, whether he\nPerforms or no, he expects his Bargain to a Tittle; there is indeed\nsome Difficulty in resolving how and in what Manner Payment is made; the\nStories we meet with in our Chimney-Corner Histories, and which are so\nmany Ways made Use of to make the _Devil_ frightful to us and our Heirs\nfor ever, are generally so foolish and ridiculous, as, if true or not\ntrue, they have nothing Material in them, are of no Signification, or\nelse so impossible in their Nature, that they make no Impression upon\nany body above twelve Years old and under seventy; or else are so\ntragical that Antiquity has fabled them down to our Taste, that we might\nbe able to hear them and repeat them with less Horror than is due to\nthem.\nThis Variety has taken off our Relish of the Thing in general, and made\nthe Trade of Soul-selling, like our late more eminent Bubbles, be taken\nto be a Cheat and to have little in it.\nHowever, to speak a little more gravely to it, I cannot say but that\nsince, by the two eminent Instances of it above in _Ahab_, and in Christ\nhimself, the Fact is evidently ascertain'd; and that the Devil has\nattempted to make such a Bargain on one, and actually did make it with\nthe other. The Possibility of it is not to be disputed; but then I must\nexplain the Manner of it a little, and bring it down, nearer to our\nUnderstanding, that it may be more intelligible than it is; for as for\nthis selling the Soul, and making a Bargain to give the _Devil_\nPossession by Livery and Seisin on the Day appointed, that I cannot come\ninto by any Means; no nor into the other Part, namely, of the Devil\ncoming to claim his Bargain, and to demand the Soul according to\nAgreement, and upon Default of a fair Delivery, taking it away by\nViolence _Case and all_, of which we have many historical Relations\npretty current among us; some of which, _for ought I know_, we might\nhave hop'd had been true, if we had not been sure they were false, and\nothers we had Reason to fear were false, because it was impossible they\nshould be true.\nThe Bargains of this Kind, according to the best Accounts we have of\nthem, used to consist of two main Articles, according to the ordinary\nStipulations in all Covenants; namely,\n     1. Something to be perform'd on the Devil's Part, buying.\n     2. Something to be performed on the Man's Part, selling.\n1. The _Devil_'s Part: This was generally some poor Trifle, for the\nDevil generally bought good Penny-worths, and oftentimes like a compleat\nSharper, agreed to give what he was not able to procure; that is to say,\nwould bargain for a Price he could not pay, as in the Case of the\n_Hereford_ Man and the Cow; for Example, 1. _Long Life_: This tho' the\ndeluded Chapman has often had folly enough to contract for, the Devil\nnever had Power to make good; and we have a famous Story, how true I\nknow not, of a Wretch that sold himself to the DEVIL on Condition he,\n_Satan_, should assure him (1.) That he should never want Victuals; (2.)\nThat he should never be a cold; (3.) That he should always come to him\nwhen he call'd him; and (4.) That he should let him live one and twenty\nYears, and then Satan was at Liberty to have him; that is, I suppose, to\ntake him wherever he could find him.\nIt seems, the Fellow's desire to be assur'd of 21 Years Life, was\nchiefly, that during that Time, he might be as wicked as he would, and\nshould yet be sure not to be hang'd, nay, to be free from all\nPunishment; upon this Foot 'tis said he commenc'd Rogue, and committed a\ngreat many Robberies and other villanous Things; now it seems the\n_Devil_ was pretty true to his Bargain in several of those things;\nparticularly, that two or three times when the Fellow was taken up for\npetty Crimes, and call'd for his old Friend, he came and frighted the\nConstables so, that they let the Offender get away from them: But at\nLength having done some capital Crime, a Set of Constables, or such like\nOfficers, seiz'd upon him, who were not to be frighted with the _Devil_,\nin what Shape soever he appear'd; so that they carry'd him off, and he\nwas committed to _Newgate_ or some other Prison as effectual.\nNor could Satan with all his Skill unlock his Fetters, much less the\nPrison Doors; But he was try'd, convicted, and executed. The Fellow in\nhis Extremity, _they say_, expostulated with the _Devil_ for his\nBargain, the Term of 21 Years it seems not being expir'd. But the\n_Devil_, it is said, shuffl'd with him, told him a good while, he would\nget him out, bid him have Patience and stay a little, and thus led him\non, till he came as it were within Sight of the Gallows, that is to say,\nwithin a Day or two of his Execution; when the _Devil_ cavill'd upon his\nBargain, told him, he agreed to let him live 21 Years, and he had not\nhindred him, but that he did not Covenant to cause him to live that\nTime; that there was a great deal of Difference between doing and\nsuffering; that he was to suffer him to live, and that he did; but he\ncould not make him live when he had brought himself to the Gallows.\nWhether this Story were true or not, for you must not expect we\nHistorians should answer for the Discourse between the _Devil_ and his\nChaps, because we were not privy to the Bargain: I say, whether it was\ntrue or not, the Inference is to our Purpose several Ways.\n     1. It confirms what I have said of the Knavery of the _Devil_ in\n     his Dealings, and that when he has Stock-jobb'd with us on the best\n     Conditions he can get, he very seldom performs his Bargain.\n     2. It confirms what I have likewise said, that the _Devil_'s Power\n     is limited; with this Addition, that he not only cannot destroy the\n     Life of Man, but that he cannot preserve it; _in short_, he can\n     neither prevent or bring on our Destruction.\nI may be allow'd, I hope, for the Sake of the present Discourse, to\nsuppose that the _Devil_ would have been so just to this wicked, tho'\nfoolish Creature, as to have sav'd him from the Gallows if he could; but\nit seems, he at last acknowledg'd that it was not in his Power; nay, he\ncould not keep him from being taken and carry'd to Prison, after he was\ngotten into the Hands of a bold Fellow or two, that were not to be\nfear'd with his Bluster, as some foolish Creatures had been before.\nAnd how simple, how weak, how unlike any Thing of an Angelick Nature,\nwas it to attempt to save the poor Wretch, only by little Noises and\nsham Appearances, putting out the Candles, rushing and josteling in the\nDark, _and the like_! If the _Devil_ was that mighty Seraph, which we\nhave heard of, if he is a God of this World, a Prince of the Air, a\nSpirit able to destroy Cities and make Havock in the World; if he can\nraise Tempests and Storms, throw Fire about the World, and do wonderful\nThings, as an unchain'd _Devil_ no Doubt could do; what need all this\nFrippery? and what need he try so many ridiculous Ways, by the\nEmptiness, nay, the silly nonsensical Manner, of which, he shews, that\nhe is able to do no better, and that his Power is extinguish'd? _In a\nWord_, he would certainly act otherwise, if he could. _Sed caret\npedibus_, he wants Power.\nHow weak a thing is it then, for any Man to expect Performance from the\n_Devil_? If he has not Power to do Mischief, which is his Element, his\nvery Nature, and on many Accounts, is the very sum of his Desires; How\nshould he have Power to do Good? how Power to deliver from Danger or\nfrom Death? which Deliverance would be in itself a Good, and we know it\nis not in his Nature to do Good to or for any Man?\nIn a Word, the _Devil_ is strangely impudent, to think that any Man\nshould depend upon him for the Performance of an Agreement of any Kind\nwhatever, when he knows himself, that he is not able, if he was honest\nenough, to be as good as his Word.\nCome we next to his expecting our Performance to him; tho' he is not so\njust to us, yet, it seems, he never fails to come and demand Payment of\nus at the very Day appointed: He was but a weak Trader in Things of this\nNature, who having sold his Soul to the _Devil_, so our old Women's\nTales call the Thing, and when the _Devil_ came to demand his Bargain,\nput it off as a Thing of no Force, for that it was done so long ago, he\nthought he (_the Devil_) had forgot it. It was a better Answer, which\nthey tell us, a _Lutheran_ Divine gave the _Devil_ in the Name of a poor\nWretch, who had sold himself to the _Devil_, and who was in a terrible\nFright about his coming for his Bargain, as he might well be indeed, if\nthe _Devil_ has such a Power, as really to come and take it by Force.\n_The Story (if you can bear a serious one) is this._\nThe Man was in great Horror of Mind, and the Family fear'd he would\ndestroy himself; at length they sent for a _Lutheran_ Minister to talk\nwith him, and who after some Labour with him, got out the Truth (_viz._)\nthat he had sold himself to the _Devil_, and that the Time was almost\nexpir'd, when he expected the _Devil_ would come and fetch him away, and\nhe was sure he would not fail coming to the Time to a Minute; the\nMinister first endeavour'd to convince him of the horrid Crime, and to\nbring him to a true Penitence for that Part; and having as he thought\nmade him a sincere Penitent, he then began to encourage him, and\nparticularly, desir'd of him, that when the Time was come, that the\n_Devil_ should fetch him away, he, the Minister, should be in the House\nwith him; accordingly, to make the Story short, the Time came, the\n_Devil_ came, and the Minister was present, when the _Devil_ came; what\nShape he was in, the Story does not say; the Man said he saw him, and\ncry'd out; the Minister could not see him, but the Man affirming he was\nin the Room, the Minister said aloud, _in the Name of the_ living God,\n_Satan, what comest thou here for?_ The _Devil_ answer'd, _I come for my\nown_; the Minister answer'd, _He is not thy own, for Jesus Christ has\nredeem'd him, and in his Name I charge thee to avoid and touch him not_;\nat which, says the Story, the _Devil_ gave a furious Stamp (with his\nCloven-Foot I suppose) and went away, and was never known to molest him\nafterward.\nAnother Story, tho' it be in it self a long one, I shall abridge (for\nyour reading with the less Uneasiness) as follows.\nA young Gentleman of _----berg_, in the Elector of _Brandenburgh_'s (now\nthe King of _Prussia_'s) Dominions, being deeply in Love with a\nbeautiful Lady, but something above his Fortune, and whom he could by no\nMeans bring to love him again, apply'd himself to an _old thing_ call'd\n_a Witch_, for her Assistance, and promised her great Things, if she\ncould bring the Lady to love him, or any how compass her, so as he might\nhave his Will of her; nay, at last he told her he would give up his Soul\nto her, if she would answer his Desire.\nThe old Hag, it seems, having had some of his Money, had very honestly\ntried what she could do, but all to no Purpose, the Lady would not\ncomply; but when he offer'd such a great Price, she told him, she would\nconsider farther against such a Time, and so appointed him the next\nEvening.\nAt the Time appointed he comes, and the Witch made a long Speech to him\nupon the Nicety of the Affair; I suppose to prepare him not to be\nsurpriz'd at what was to come; for she suppos'd he was not so very\ndesperately bent as he appear'd to be; she told him it was a Thing of\nvery great Difficulty; but as he had made such a great Offer, of\n_selling his Soul for it_, she had an Acquaintance in the House, who was\nbetter skill'd (than she was) in such particular Things, and would treat\nwith him farther, and she doubted not but that both together they might\nanswer his End. The Fellow it seems was still of the same Mind, and told\nher, he car'd not what he pawn'd or sold, if he could but obtain the\nLady; well, says the old Hag, sit still a while, and with that she\nwithdraws.\nBy and by she comes in again with a Question in her Mouth; pray, says\nshe, do you seek this Lady for a Wife, or for a Mistress, would you\nmarry her, or would you only lie with her? The young Man told her _no,\nno_, he did not expect she would lie with him, therefore he would be\nsatisfied to marry her, but asks her the Reason of the Question; why\ntruly, says the old Hag, my Reason is very Weighty; for if you would\nhave her for your Wife, I doubt, we can do you no Service; but if you\nhave a Mind to lie with her, the Person, I speak of, will undertake it.\nThe Man was surpriz'd at that, only he objected that this was a\ntransient or short Felicity, and that he should perhaps have her no\nmore; the old Hag bid him not fear, but that if she once yielded to be\nhis Whore, he might have her as often as he pleased; upon this he\nconsents, for he was stark mad for the Lady; He having consented, she\ntold him then, he should follow her, but told him, whoever he saw, he\nmust speak to no body but her, till she gave him leave, and that he\nshould not be surpriz'd, whatever happen'd, for no hurt should befall\nhim; all which he agreed to, and the old Woman going out he follow'd\nher.\nBeing upon this led into another Room, where there was but very little\nLight, yet enough to let him see that there was no body in it but\nhimself and the Woman, he was desired to sit down in a Chair next to a\nTable, and the old Woman clapping the Door too after her, he asked her\nwhy she shut the Door, and where was the Person she told him of? At\nwhich she answer'd _there he is_, pointing to a Chair at a little\nDistance: The young Gentleman turning his Head, saw a grave Kind of a\nMan sitting in an Elbow-Chair, tho' he said, he could have sworn there\nwas no body in the Chair when the old Woman shut the Door; however,\nhaving promis'd not to speak to any body but the old Woman, he said not\na Word.\nBy and by the Woman making abundance of strange Gestures and Motions,\nand mumbling over several Things which he could not understand, on a\nsuddain a large Wicker-Chair, which stood by the Chimney, removes to the\nother End of the Table which he sat by, but there was no body in the\nChair; in about two Minutes after that the Chair remov'd, there appear'd\na Person sitting in that too, who, the Room being, as is said, almost\ndark, could not be so distinguish'd by the Eye, as to see his\nCountenance.\nAfter some while, the first Man, and the Chair he sat in, mov'd, as if\nthey had been one Body, to the Table also; and the old Woman and the two\nMen seem'd to talk together, but the young Man could not understand any\nThing they said; after some Time the old Witch turn'd to the young\nGentleman, told him his Request was granted, but not for Marriage, but\nthe Lady should love and receive him.\nThe Witch then gave him a Stick dipt in Tar at both Ends, and bid him\nhold it to a Candle, which he did, and instead of burning like a Stick\nit burnt out like a Torch; then she bid him break it off in the Middle,\nand light the other End; he did that too, and all the Room seem'd to be\nin a light Flame; then she said, deliver one Piece here, pointing to one\nonly of the Persons, so he gave the first Fire-stick to the first Man or\n_Apparition_; now says she, deliver the other here, so he gave the other\nPiece to the other Apparition, at which they both rose up and spoke to\nhim Words, which he said he understood not, and could not repeat, and\nimmediately vanish'd with the Fire-sticks and all, leaving the Room full\nof Smoke: I do not remember that the Story says any Thing of Brimstone,\nor the Smell of it, but it says the Door continu'd fast lock'd, and no\nBody was left in the Room but the young Gentleman and the Witch.\nNow the Ceremony being over, he ask'd the Witch if the Business was\ndone? She said _yes_. Well, but says he, have I sold my Soul to the\nDevil? Yes, says she, you have, and you gave him Possession, when you\ndeliver'd the two Fire-sticks to him. _To him!_ says he, why, was that\nthe _Devil_? Yes, says the old Hag. At which the young Man was in a\nterrible Fright for a while, but it went off again.\nAnd what's next, says he, when shall I see the Lady for whose sake I\nhave done all this? You shall know that presently, said she, and opening\nthe Door, in the next Room she presents him with a most beautiful Lady,\nbut had charg'd him not to speak a Word to her: She was exactly dress'd\nlike, and he presently knew her to be the Lady he desir'd; upon which he\nflew to her and clasped her in his Arms, but that Moment he had her\nfast, as he thought, in his Arms, she vanish'd out of his sight.\nFinding himself thus disappointed, he upbraids the old Woman with\nbetraying him, and flew out with ill Language at her, in a great Rage;\nthe _Devil_ often deluded him thus, after this, with Shews and\nAppearances, but still no Performance; after a while he gets an\nOpportunity to speak with the Lady her self in Reality, but she was as\npositive in her Denial as ever, and even took away all Hopes of his ever\nobtaining her, which put him into Despair; for now he thought he had\ngiven himself up to the _Devil_ for nothing, and this brought him to\nhimself; so that he made a penitent Confession of his Crime to some\nFriends, who took great Care of him, and encourag'd him, and at last\nfurnish'd him with such an Answer as put the _Devil_ into a Fright, when\nhe came for the Bargain.\nFor Satan, it seems, _as the Story says_, had the Impudence to demand\nhis Agreement, notwithstanding he had fail'd in the Performance on his\nPart; what the Answer was I do not pretend to have seen, but it seems\nit was something like what is mention'd above, (_viz._) that he was in\nbetter Hands, and that he durst not touch him.\nI have heard of another Person that had actually sign'd a Contract with\nthe _Devil_; and upon a Fast kept by some Protestant or Christian\nDivines, while they were praying for the poor Man, the Devil was oblig'd\nto come and throw the Contract in at the Window.\nBut I vouch none of these Stories, there may be much in them and much\nUse made of them, even whether exactly such in Fact, as they are\nrelated, or no; the best Use I can make of them, is this, if any wicked\ndesperate Wretches have made Bargain and Sale with _Satan_, their only\nWay is to repent, if they know how, and that before he comes to claim\nthem; then batter him with his own Guns; play Religion against Devilism,\nand perhaps they may drive the _Devil_ out of their Reach; at least he\nwill not come at them, which is as well.\nOn the other Hand, how many Stories have we handed about of the Devil's\nreally coming with a terrible Appearance at the Time appointed, and\npowerfully or by violence carrying away those, that have given\nthemselves thus up to him; nay, and sometimes a Piece of the House along\nwith them, as in the famous Instance of _Sudbury_, _Anno_ 1662. It seems\nhe comes with Rage and Fury upon such Occasions, pretending he only\ncomes to take his own, or as if he had leave given him to come and take\nhis Goods, _as we say_, where he could find them, and would strike a\nTerror into all that should oppose him.\nThe greatest Part of the Terror we are usually in upon this Occasion, is\nfrom a Supposition, that when this _Hell-Fire Contract_ is once made,\nGod allows the _Devil_ to come and take the wicked Creature, how and in\nwhat manner he thinks fit, as being given up to him by his own Act and\nDeed; but in my Opinion there's no Divinity at all in that; for as in\nour Law we punish a _Felo de se_, or Self-murtherer, because, _as the\nLaw suggests_, he had no Right to dismiss his own Life; that he being a\nSubject of the Common-wealth, the Government claims the _Ward_ or\nCustody of him, and so 'twas not Murther only, but Robbery, and is a\nFelony against the State, robbing the King of his Liege-Man, as _'tis\njustly call'd_; so neither has any Man a Right to dispose of his Soul,\nwhich belongs to his Maker in Property and in Right of Creation: The Man\nthen having no Right to sell, Satan has no Right to buy, or at best he\nhas made a Purchase without a Title, and consequently has no just Claim\nto the Possession.\nIt is therefore a Mistake to say, that when any of us have been so mad\nto make such a pretended Contract with the Devil, that God gives him\nleave to take it as his Due; _'tis no such thing_; the _Devil_ has\nbought, what you had no Right to sell, and therefore, as an unlawful\nOath is to be repented of, and then broken; so your Business is to\nrepent of the Crime, and then tell the _Devil_, you have better\nconsider'd of it, and that you won't stand to your Bargain, for you had\nno Power to sell; and if he pretends to Violence after that, I am\nmistaken; I believe the _Devil_ knows better.\nIt is true, our old Mothers and Nurses have told us other Things, but\nthey only told us what their Mothers and Nurses told them, and so the\nTale has been handed down from one Generation of old Women to another;\nbut we have no Vouchers for the Fact other than Oral Tradition, the\nCredit of which, I confess, goes but a very little Way with me; nor do I\nbelieve it one Jot the more for all the frightful Addenda which they\ngenerally join to the Tale, for it never wants a great Variety of that\nKind.\nThus they tell us the Devil carried away Dr. _Faustus_ and took a Piece\nof the Wall of his Garden along with them: Thus at _Salisbury_ the\n_Devil_ as it is said, and publickly printed, carried away two Fellows\nthat had given themselves up to him, and carried away the Roof of the\nHouse with them, _and the like_; all which I believe my Share of;\nbesides, if these Stories were really true, they are all against the\nDevil's true Interest, _Satan_ must be a Fool, which is indeed what I\nnever took him to be in the Main; this would be the Way not to encrease\nthe Number of Desperadoes, who should thus put themselves into his Hand,\nbut to make himself a Terror to them; and this is one of the most\npowerful Objections I have against the Thing, for the Devil, I say, is\nno Fool, that must be acknowledg'd; he knows his own Game, and generally\nplays it sure.\nI might, before I quit this Point, seriously reflect here upon our _Beau\nmond_ (_viz._) the gay Part of Mankind, especially those of the Times we\nlive in, who walk about in a Composure and Tranquillity inexpressible,\nand yet as we all know, must certainly have all sold themselves to the\nDevil, for the Power of acting the foolishest Things with the greater\nApplause; it is true, to be a Fool is the most pleasant Life in the\nWorld, if the Fool has but the particular Felicity, which few Fools\nwant, (_viz._) to think themselves wise: The learned say, it is the\nDignity and Perfection of Fools, that they never fail trusting\nthemselves; they believe themselves sufficient and able for every Thing;\nand hence their want or waste of Brains is no Grievance to them, but\nthey hug themselves in the Satiety of their own Wit; but to bring other\nPeople to have the same Notion of them, which they have of themselves,\nand to have their apish and ridiculous Conduct make the same Impression\non the Minds of others, as it does on their own; this requires a general\nInfatuation, and must either be a Judgment from Heaven, or a Mist of\nHell; nothing but the Devil can make all the Men of Brains applaud a\nFool, and can any Man believe, that the Devil will do this for nothing?\nno, no, he will be well paid for it, and I know no other Way they have\nto compound with him, but this of Bargain and Sale.\n'Tis the same thing with Rakes and Bullies, as 'tis with Fools and\nBeaus; and this brings me to the Subject of _buying_ and _selling_ it\nself, and to examine what is understood by it in the World, what People\nmean by such and such a Man selling himself to the Devil: I know the\ncommon Acceptation of it is, that they make some Capitulation for some\nIndulgence in Wickedness, on Conditions of Safety and Impunity, which\nthe Devil promises them; tho' as I said above, he is a _Bite_ in that\ntoo, for he can't perform the Conditions; however, I say, he promises\nboldly, and they believe him, and for this Privilege in Wickedness, they\nconsent, that he shall come and fetch them for his own, at such or such\na Time.\nThis is the State of the Case in the general Acceptation of it; I do not\nsay 'tis really so, nay 'tis even an Inconsistency in it self; for one\nwould think, they need not capitulate with the Devil to be so, and so,\nsuperlatively wicked, and give him such a Price for it, seeing, unless\nwe have a wrong Notion of him, he is naturally enclin'd, as well as\navow'dly willing to have all Men be as superlatively wicked as possibly\nthey can, and must necessarily be always ready to issue out his Licenses\ngratis, as far as his Authority will go in the Case; and therefore I do\nnot see why the Wretches that deal with him, should article with him for\na Price; but suppose, for Argument sake, that it is so, then the next\nThing is, some capital Crime follows the Contract, and then the Wretch\nis forsaken, for the Devil cannot protect him, as he promised; so he is\n_Trust up_, and like _Coleman_ at the Gallows, he exclaims that _there\nis no Truth in_ Devils.\nIt may be true, however, that under the powerful Guard and Protection of\nthe Devil, Men do sometimes go a great Way in Crime, and that perhaps\nfarther in these our Days of boasted Morals than was known among our\nFathers; the only Difference that I meet with between the Sons of\n_Belial_ in former Days, and those of our Ages, seems to be in the\nDevil's Management, not in theirs; the Sum of which amounts to this,\nthat Satan seems to act with more Cunning, and they with less; for in\nthe former Ages of Satan's Dominion, he had much Business upon his\nHands, all his Art and Engines, and Engineers also, were kept fully\nemploy'd, to wheedle, allure, betray and circumvent People, and draw\nthem into Crimes, and they found him, as we may say, a full Employment;\nI doubt not, he was call'd the Tempter on that very Account; but the\nCase seems quite alter'd now, the Tables are turned; then the Devil\ntempted Men to sin, _But now, in short_, they tempt the Devil; Men push\ninto Crimes before he pushes them; they out shoot him in his own Bow,\nout run him on his own Ground, and, as we say of some hot Spurs who ride\nPost, they whip the Post-Boy; in a Word, the Devil seems to have no\nBusiness now but to sit still and look on.\nThis, I must confess, seems to intimate some secret Compact between the\nDevil and them; but then it looks, not as is they had contracted with\nthe Devil for leave to sin, but that the Devil had contracted with them,\nthat they should sin so and so, up to such a Degree, and that without\ngiving him the Trouble of daily Solicitation, private Management, and\nartful screwing up their Passions, their Affections and their most\nretir'd Faculties, as he was before oblig'd to do.\nThis also appears more agreeable to the Nature of the Thing; and as it\nis a most exquisite part of Satan's Cunning, so 'tis an undoubted\nTestimony of his Success; if it was not so, he could never bring his\nKingdom to such a height of absolute Power as he has done; this also\nsolves several Difficulties in the Affair of the World's present Way of\nsinning, which otherwise it would be very hard to understand; as\nparticularly how some eminent Men of Quality among us, whose upper Rooms\nare not extraordinary well furnished in other Cases, yet are so very\nwitty in their Wickedness, that they gather Admirers by hundreds and\nthousands; who, however heavy, lumpish, slow and backward, even by\nNature, and in force of Constitution in better things, yet in their Race\nDevil-wards they are of a sudden grown nimble, light of Foot, and outrun\nall their Neighbours; Fellows that are as empty of Sense as Beggars are\nof Honesty, and as far from Brains as a Whore is of Modesty; on a sudden\nyou shall find them dip into _Polemicks_, study _Michael Servetus_,\n_Socinus_, and the most learned of their Disciples; they shall reason\nagainst all Religion, as strongly as a Philosopher; blaspheme with such\na Keenness of Wit, and satyrise God and Eternity, with such a Brightness\nof Fancy, as if the soul of a _Rochester_ or a _Hobbs_ was\ntransmigrated into them; in a little length of Time more they banter\nHeaven, burlesque the Trinity, and jest with every sacred thing, and all\nso sharp, so ready, and so terribly witty, as if they were born\nBuffoons, and were singl'd out by Nature to be Champions for the Devil.\nWhence can all this come? how is the Change wrought? who but the Devil\ncan inject Wit in Spight of natural Dullness, create Brains, fill empty\nHeads, and supply the Vacuities in the Understanding? and will Satan do\nall this for nothing? _No, no_, he is too wise for that; I can never\ndoubt a secret Compact, if there is such a thing in Nature; when I see a\nHead where there was no Head, Sense in _Posse_ where there is no Sense\nin _Esse_, Wit without Brains, and Sight without Eyes, 'tis all\n_Devil-Work_: Could _G----_ write Satyrs, that could neither read\n_Latin_ or spell _English_, like old Sir _William Read_, who wrote a\nBook of Opticks, which when it was printed, he did not know which was\nthe right Side uppermost, and which the wrong? Could this eminent\nuninform'd Beau turn Atheist, and make wise Speeches against that Being,\nwhich made him a Fool, if the Devil had not sold him some Wit in\nexchange for that Trifle of his, call'd Soul? Had he not barter'd his\nInside with that Son of the Morning, to have his Tongue tip'd with\nBlasphemy, he that knew nothing of a God, but only to swear by him,\ncould never have set up for a Wit, to burlesque his Providence and\nridicule his Government of the World.\nBut the Devil, as he is God of the World, has one particular Advantage,\nand that is, that when he has Work to do he very seldom wants\nInstruments; with this Circumstance also, that the Degeneracy of human\nNature supplies him; as the late King of _France_ said of himself, when\nthey told him what a Calamity was like to befal his Kingdom by the\nFamine: _Well_, says the King, then I shall not want Soldiers; _and it\nwas so_, want of Bread supplied his Army with Recruits; so want of Grace\nsupplied the _Devil_ with Reprobates for his Work.\nAnother Reason why, I think, the _Devil_ has made more Bargains of that\nKind we speak of, in this Age, is, because he seems to have laid by his\nCloven-Foot; all his old Emissaries, the Tools of his Trade, the\nEngineers which he employ'd in his Mines, such as Witches, Warlocks,\nMagicians, Conjurers, Astrologers, and all the hellish Train or Rabble\nof human _Devils_, who did his Drudgery in former Days, seem to be out\nof Work: I shall give you a fuller Enumeration of them in the next\nChapter.\nThese, I say, seem to be laid aside; not that his Work is abated, or\nthat his Business with Mankind, for their Delusion and Destruction is\nnot the same, or perhaps more than ever; but the _Devil_ seems to have\nchang'd Hands; the Temper and Genius of Mankind is alter'd, and they are\nnot to be taken by Fright and Horror, as they were then: The Figures of\nthose Creatures was always dismal and horrible, and that is it which I\nmean by the _Cloven-Foot_; but now Wit, Beauty and gay Things, are the\nSum of his Craft, he manages by the Soft and the Smooth, the Fair and\nthe Artful, the Kind and the Cunning, not by the Frightful and Terrible,\nthe Ugly and the Odious.\n  When the _Devil_ for weighty Dispatches,\n    Wanted Messengers cunning and bold,\n  He pass'd by the beautiful Faces,\n    And pick'd out the _Ugly_ and _Old_.\n  Of these he made _Warlocks_ and _Witches_,\n    To run of his Errands by Night,\n  Till the over wrought Hag-ridden Wretches,\n    Were as fit as the _Devil_, to fright.\n  But whoever has been his Adviser,\n    As his Kingdom encreases in Growth;\n  He now takes his Measures much wiser,\n    And Trafficks with Beauty and Youth.\n  Disguis'd in the Wanton and Witty,\n    He haunts both the Church and the Court,\n  And sometimes he visits the City,\n    Where all the best Christians resort.\n  Thus dress'd up in full Masquerade,\n    He the bolder can range up and down,\n  For he better can drive on his Trade,\n    In any one's Name than his own.\nCHAP. IX.\n_Of the Tools the_ Devil _works with,_ (viz.) _Witches, Wizards or\n     Warlocks, Conjurers, Magicians, Divines, Astrologers, Interpreters\n     of Dreams, Tellers of Fortunes; and above all the rest, his\n     particular modern Privy-Counsellors call'd Wits and Fools._\nTho', as I have advanc'd in the foregoing Chapter, the _Devil_ has very\nmuch chang'd Hands in his modern Management of the World, and that\ninstead of the Rabble and long Train of Implements reckoned up above, he\nnow walks about in Beaus, Beauties, Wits and Fools; yet I must not omit\nto tell you that he has not dismiss'd his former Regiments, but like\nOfficers in Time of Peace, he keeps them all in half Pay, or like\nExtraordinary Men at the Custom-House, they are kept at a Call, to be\nready to fill up Vacancies, or to employ when he is more than ordinarily\nfull of Business; and therefore it may not be amiss to give some brief\nAccount of them, from Satan's own Memoirs, their Performance being no\ninconsiderable Part of his History.\nNor will it be an unprofitable Digression to go back a little to the\nprimitive Institution of all these _Orders_, for they are very antient,\nand I assure you, it requires great Knowledge of Antiquity, to give a\nParticular of their Original; I shall be very brief in it.\nIn order then to this Enquiry, you must know that it was not for want of\nServants, that Satan took this Sort of People into his Pay; he had, as I\nhave observ'd in its Place, Millions of diligent _Devils_ at his Call,\nwhatever Business, and however difficult, he had for them to do; but as\nI have said above, that our modern People are forwarder than even the\n_Devil_ himself can desire them to be; and that they come before they\nare call'd, run before they are sent, and crowd themselves into his\nService; so it seems it was in those early Days, when the World was one\nuniversal Monarchy under his Dominion, as I have at large describ'd in\nits Place.\nIn those Days the Wickedness of the World keeping a just Pace with their\nIgnorance, this inferior Sort of low priz'd Instruments did the\n_Devil_'s work mighty well; they drudg'd on in his Black-Art so\nlaboriously, and with such good Success, that he found it was better to\nemploy them as Tools to delude and draw in Mankind, than to send his\ninvisible Implements about, and oblige them to take such Shapes and\nDresses as were necessary upon every trifling Occasion; which, perhaps,\nwas more Cost than Worship, more Pains than Pay.\nHaving then a Set of these Voluntiers in his Service, the true _Devil_\nhad nothing to do but to keep an exact Correspondence with them, and\ncommunicate some needful Powers to them, to make them be and do\nsomething extraordinary, and give them a Reputation in their Business;\nand these, in a Word, did a great Part of, nay almost all the _Devil_'s\nBusiness in the World.\nTo this Purpose gave he them Power, if we may believe old _Glanville_,\n_Baxter_, _Hicks_, and other learn'd Consultors of Oracles, to walk\ninvisible, to fly in the Air, ride upon Broom-sticks, and other Wooden\nGear, to interpret Dreams, answer Questions, betray Secrets, to talk\n(Gibberish) the universal Language, to raise Storms, sell Winds, bring\nup Spirits, disturb the Dead, and torment the Living, with a thousand\nother needful Tricks to amuse the World, keep themselves in Veneration,\nand carry on the _Devil_'s Empire in the World.\nThe first Nations among whom these infernal Practices were found, were\nthe _Chaldeans_; and that I may do Justice in earnest, as well as in\njest, it must be allow'd that the _Chaldeans_, or those of them so\ncall'd, were not Conjurers or Magicians, only Philosophers and Studiers\nof Nature, wise, sober and studious Men at first, and we have an\nextraordinary Account of them; and if we may believe some of our best\nWriters of Fame, _Abraham_ was himself famous among them for such\nMagick, as Sir _Walter Raleigh_ expresses it, _Qui Contemplatione\nCreaturarum Cognovit Creatorem_.\nNow granting this, it is all to my Purpose, namely, that the Devil drew\nthese wise Men in, to search after more Knowledge than Nature could\ninstruct them in; and the Knowledge of the true God being at that Time\nsunk very low, he debauch'd them all with Dreams, Apparitions,\nConjurers, _&c._ till he ruin'd the just Notions they had, and made\n_Devils_ of them all, like himself.\nThe learned _Senensis_, speaking of this _Chaldean_ Kind of Learning,\ngives us an Account of five Sorts of them; you will pardon me for being\nso grave as to go this Length back.\n     1. _Chascedin_ or _Chaldeans_, properly so call'd, being\n     Astronomers.\n     2. _Asaphim_ or _Magicians_, such was _Zoroastres_ and _Balaam_ the\n     Son of _Beor_.\n     3. _Chatumim_ or Interpreters of Dreams and hard Speeches,\n     Inchanters, _&c._\n     4. _Mecasphim_ or Witches, call'd at first Prophets, afterwards\n     _Malefici_ or _Venefici_, Poisoners.\n     5. _Gazarim_ or _Auruspices_, and Diviners, such as divin'd by the\n     Entrails of Beasts, the Liver in particular; mention'd in _Ezek._\n     or as others, call'd Augurs.\nNow, as to all these, I suppose, I may do them no wrong, if I say,\nhowever justifiable they were in the Beginning, the _Devil_ got them all\ninto his Service at last, and that brings me to my Text again, from\nwhich the rest was a Digression.\n     1. The _Chascedin_ or _Chaldean_ Astronomers turned Astrologers,\n     Fortune-Tellers, Calculators of Nativities, and vile Deluders of\n     the People, as if the Wisdom of the holy God was in them, as\n     _Nebuchadnezzar_ said of _Daniel_ on that very Account.\n     2. The _Asaphim_ or Magi, or Magicians; _Sixtus Senensis_ says,\n     they were such as wrought by Covenants with Devils, but turn'd to\n     it from their Wisdom, which was to study the practical Part of\n     Natural Philosophy, working admirable Effects by the mutual\n     Application of Natural Causes.\n     3. The _Chartumim_ from being Reasoners or Disputers upon difficult\n     Points in Philosophy, became Enchanters and Conjurers. So,\n     4. The _Mecasphim_ or Prophets, they turn'd to be Sorcerers,\n     Raisers of Spirits, such as wounded by an evil Eye, and by bitter\n     Curses, and were afterwards fam'd for having familiar Converse with\n     the _Devil_, and were called Witches.\n     5. The _Gazarim_, from the bare observing of the good and bad\n     Omens, by the Entrails of Beasts, flying of Birds, _&c._ were\n     turn'd to Sacrists or Priests of the Heathen Idols and Sacrificers.\nThus, I say, first or last the _Devil_ engross'd all the Wise-Men of the\nEast, for so they are call'd; made them all his own, and by them he\nwork'd Wonders, that is, he fill'd the World with lying Wonders, as if\nwrought by these Men, when indeed it was all his own, from Beginning to\nthe End, and set on Foot meerly to propagate Delusion, impose upon\nblinded and ignorant Men; the God of this World blinded their Minds, and\nthey were led away by the Subtilty of the _Devil_, to say no worse of\nit, till they became _Devils_ themselves, as to Mankind; for they\ncarried on the Devil's Work upon all Occasions, and the Race of them\nstill continue in other Nations, and some of them among our selves, as\nwe shall see presently.\nThe _Arabians_ follow'd the _Chaldeans_ in this Study, while it was kept\nwithin its due Bounds, and after them the _Egyptians_; and among the\nLatter we find that _Jannes_ and _Jambres_ were famous for their leading\n_Pharaoh_ by their pretended magic Performances, to reject the real\nMiracles of _Moses_; and History tells us of strange Pranks the\nWise-Men, the Magicians and the Southsayers plaid to delude the People\nin the most early Ages of the World.\nBut, as I say, now, the _Devil_ has improv'd himself, so he did then;\nfor the _Grecian_ and _Roman_ Heathen Rites coming on, they outdid all\nthe Magicians and Southsayers, by establishing the _Devil_'s lying\nOracles, which, as a Master-Piece of Hell, did the _Devil_ more Honour,\nand brought more Homage to him, than ever he had before, or could arrive\nto since.\nAgain, as by the setting up the Oracles, all the Magicians and\nSouthsayers grew out of Credit; so at the ceasing of those Oracles, the\n_Devil_ was fain to go back to the old Game again, and take up with the\nAgency of Witches, Divinations, Inchantments and Conjurings, as I hinted\nbefore, answerable to the four Sorts mention'd in the Story of\n_Nebuchadnezzar_, (viz.) _Magicians_, _Astrologers_, the _Chaldeans_ and\nthe _Southsayers_: How these began to be out of Request, I have\nmention'd already; but as the _Devil_ has not quite given them over,\nonly laid them aside a little for the present, we may venture to ask\nwhat they were, and what Use he made of them when he did employ them.\nThe Truth is, I think, as it was a very mean Employment for any thing\nthat wears a human Countenance to take up, so I must acknowledge, I\nthink, 'twas a mean low priz'd Business for _Satan_ to take up with;\nbelow the very _Devil_; below his Dignity as an Angelic, tho' condemn'd\nCreature; below him even as a _Devil_; to go to talk to a parcel of\nugly, deform'd, spiteful, malicious old Women; to give them Power to do\nMischief, who never had a Will, after they enter'd into the State of\n_old Woman-Hood_, to do any thing else: Why the _Devil_ always chose the\nugliest old Women he could find; whether _Wizardism_ made them ugly,\nthat were not so before, and whether the Ugliness, as it was a Beauty in\nWitchcraft, did not encrease according to the meritorious Performance in\nthe Black-Trade? These are all Questions of Moment to be decided, (if\nhuman Learning can arrive to so much Perfection) in Ages to come.\nSome say the evil Eye and the wicked Look were Parts of the Enchantment,\nand that the Witches, when they were in the height of their Business,\nhad a powerful Influence with both; that by looking upon any Person they\ncould bewitch them, and make the _Devil_, _as the Scots express it_,\nride through them booted and spurr'd; and that hence came that very\nsignificant Saying, _to look like a Witch_.\nThe strange Work which the _Devil_ has made in the World, by this Sort\nof his Agents call'd Witches, is such, and so extravagantly wild, that\nexcept our Hope that most of those Tales happen not to be true, I know\nnot how any one could be easy to live near a Widow after she was five\nand fifty.\nAll the other Sorts of Emissaries which Satan employs, come short of\nthese Ghosts; and Apparitions sometimes come and shew themselves, on\nparticular Accounts, and some of those Particulars respect doing\nJustice, repairing Wrongs, preventing Mischief; sometimes in Matters\nvery considerable, and on Things so necessary to publick Benefit, that\nwe are tempted to believe they proceed from some vigilant Spirit who\nwishes us well; but on the other Hand, these Witches are never concern'd\nin any thing but Mischief; nay, if what they do portends good to one, it\nissues in hurt to many; the whole Tenour of their Life, their Design in\ngeneral, is to do Mischief, and they are only employ'd in Mischief, and\nnothing else: How far they are furnish'd with Ability suitable to the\nhorrid Will they are vested with, remains to be describ'd.\nThese Witches, 'tis said, are furnish'd with Power suitable to the\nOccasion that is before them, and particularly that which deserves to be\nconsider'd, as Prediction, and foretelling Events, which I insist the\nAuthor of Witchcraft is not accomplish'd with himself, nor can he\ncommunicate it to any other: How then _Witches_ come to be able to\nforetel Things to come, which, 'tis said, the _Devil_ himself cannot\nknow, and which, as I have shewn, 'tis evident he does not know himself,\nis yet to be determin'd; that Witches do foretel, is certain, from the\nWitch of _Endor_, who foretold Things to _Saul_, which he knew not\nbefore, namely, that he should be slain in Battle the next Day, which\naccordingly came to pass.\nThere are, however, and notwithstanding this particular Case, many\nInstances wherein the _Devil_ has not been able to foretel approaching\nEvents, and that in Things of the utmost Consequence, and he has given\ncertain foolish or false Answers in such Cases; the DEVIL's Priests,\nwhich were summon'd in by the Prophet _Elija_, to decide the Dispute\nbetween God and _Baal_, had the _Devil_ been able to have inform'd them\nof it, would certainly have receiv'd Notice from him, of what was\nintended against them by _Elija_; that is to say, that they would be all\ncut in pieces; for Satan was not such a Fool as not to know that _Baal_\nwas a Non-Entity, a Nothing, at best a dead Man, perish'd and rotting in\nhis Grave; for _Baal_ was _Bell_ or _Belus_, an ancient King of the\n_Assyrian_ Monarchy, and he could no more answer by Fire to consume the\nSacrifice, than he could raise himself from the dead.\nBut the Priests of _Baal_ were left of their Master to their just Fate,\nnamely, to be a Sacrifice to the Fury of a deluded People; hence I infer\nhis Inability, for it would have been very unkind and ungrateful in him\nnot to have answer'd them, if he had been able. There is another\nArgument raised here most justly against the _Devil_, with Relation to\nhis being under Restraint, and that of greater Eminence than we imagine,\nand it is drawn from this very Passage, thus; 'tis not to be doubted but\nthat _Satan_, who has much of the Element put into his Hands, as Prince\nof the Air, had a Power, or was able potentially speaking, to have\nanswer'd _Baal_'s Priests by Fire; Fire being in Vertue of his airy\nPrincipality a Part of his Dominion; but he was certainly _withheld_ by\nthe Superior Hand, which gave him that Dominion, I mean _withheld_ for\nthe Occasion only: So in another Case, it was plain that _Balaam_, who\nwas one of those Sorts of _Chaldeans_ mention'd above, who dealt in\n_Divinations_ and _Inchantments_, was withheld from cursing Israel.\nSome are of Opinion that _Balaam_ was not a Witch or a Dealer with the\n_Devil_ because 'tis said of him, or rather he says it of himself, that\nhe saw the Visions of God, _Numb._ xxiv. 16. _He hath said_, who _heard\nthe Words of_ GOD, _and knew the Knowledge of the most High, which saw\nthe Visions of the Almighty, falling into a_ TRANCE, _but having his\nEyes open_: Hence they alledge he was one of those Magi, which St.\n_Augustin_ speaks of, _de Divinatione_, who by the Study of Nature, and\nby the Contemplation of created Beings came to the Knowledge of the\nCreature; and that _Balaam_'s Fault was, that being tempted by the\nRewards and Honours that the King promised him, he intended to have\ncurs'd _Israel_; but when his Eyes were open'd, and that he saw they\nwere God's own People, he durst not do it; they will have it therefore,\nthat except, _as above_, _Balaam_ was a good Man, or at least that he\nhad the Knowledge of the true God, and the Fear of that God upon him,\nand that he honestly declares this, _Numb._ xxii. 18. _If_ Balak _would\ngive me his House full of Silver and Gold, I cannot go beyond the Word\nof the Lord_ MY GOD: Where tho' he is call'd a false Prophet by some, he\nevidently owns God, and assumes a Property in him, as other Prophets\ndid; MY GOD, and I cannot go beyond his Orders; but that which gives me\na better Opinion of _Balaam_ than all this is, his plain Prophesy of\nChrist, Chap. xxiv. 17. where he calls him the Star of _Jacob_, and\ndeclares, _I shall see him, but not now, I shall behold him, but not\nnigh; there shall come a Star out of_ Jacob, _and a Scepter shall rise\nout of_ Israel, _and shall smite the Corners of_ Moab, _and destroy all\nthe Children of_ Seth, all which express not a Knowledge only, but a\nFaith in Christ; but I have done preaching, this is all by the by, I\nreturn to my Business, which is the History.\nThere is another Piece of dark Practice here, which lies between Satan\nand his particular Agents, and which they must give us an Answer to,\nwhen they can, which I think will not be in haste; and that is about the\nobsequious _Devil_ submitting to be call'd up into Visibility, whenever\nan old Woman has her Hand cross'd with a white Six-pence, _as they Call\nit_: One would think that instead of these vile Things call'd Witches,\nbeing sold to the _Devil_, the _Devil_ was really sold for a Slave to\nthem; for how far soever Satan's Residence is off of this State of Life,\nthey have Power, it seems, to fetch him from home, and oblige him to\ncome at their Call.\nI can give little Account of this, only that indeed so it is; nor is the\nThing so strange in its self, as the Methods to do it are mean, foolish,\nand ridiculous; as making a Circle and dancing in it, pronouncing such\nand such Words, saying the Lord's Prayer backward, and the like; now is\nthis agreeable to the Dignity of the Prince of the Air or Atmosphere,\nthat he should be commanded forth with no more Pomp or Ceremony than\nthat of muttering a few Words, such as the old Witches and he agree\nabout? or is there something else in it, which none of us or themselves\nunderstand?\nPerhaps, indeed, he is always with those People call'd Witches and\nConjurers, or at least some of his _Camp Volant_ are always present, and\nso upon the least call of the Wizard, it is but putting off the misty\nCloak and showing themselves.\nThen we have a Piece of mock Pageantry in bringing those Things call'd\nwitches or Conjurers to Justice, that is, first to know if a Woman be a\nWitch, throw her into a Pond, and if she be a Witch, she will swim, and\nit is not in her own Power to prevent it; if she does all she can to\nsink her self, it will not do, she will swim like a Cork. Then that a\nRope will not hang a Witch, but you must get a With, a green Osyer; that\nif you nail a Horse-Shoe on the Sill of the Door, she cannot come into\nthe House, or go out, if she be in; these and a thousand more, too\nsimple to be believ'd, are yet so vouch'd, so taken for granted, and so\nuniversally receiv'd for Truth, that there is no resisting them without\nbeing thought atheistical.\nWhat Methods to take to know, who are _Witches_, I really know not; but\non the other Side, I think there are variety of Methods to be used to\nknow who are not; _W--- G---_, Esq; is a Man of Fame, his Parts are\ngreat, because his Estate is so; he has threescore and eight Lines of\n_Virgil_ by rote, and they take up many of the Intervals of his merry\nDiscourses; he has just as many witty Stories to please Society; when\nthey are well told, _once over_, he begins again, and so he lives in a\nround of Wit and Learning; he is a Man of great Simplicity and\nSincerity; you must be careful not to mistake my Meaning, as to the Word\nSimplicity; some take it to mean Honesty, and so do I, only that it has\na Negative attending it, in his particular Case; in a Word, _W----\nG----_ is an honest Man, and no _Conjurer_; a good Character, I think,\nand without Impeachment to his Understanding, he may be a Man of Worth\nfor all that; take the other Sex, there is the Lady _H----_ is another\nDiscovery; bless us! what Charms in that Face! How bright those Eyes!\nHow flowing white her Breasts! How sweet her Voice? add to all, how\nheavenly, divinely good her Temper! How inimitable her Behaviour! How\nspotless her Virtue! How perfect her Innocence! and to sum up her\nCharacter, we may add, the Lady _H----_ is no _Witch_; sure none of our\nBeau Critics will be so unkind now as to censure me in those honest\nDescriptions, as if I meant that my good Friend _W---- G----_ Esq; or my\nador'd Angel, the bright, the charming Lady _H----_ were Fools; but what\nwill not those Savages, call'd Critics, do, whose barbarous Nature\nenclines them to trample on the brightest Characters, and to cavil on\nthe clearest Expressions?\nIt might be expected of me, however, in justice to my Friends, and to\nthe bright Characters of abundance of Gentlemen of this Age, who, by the\nDepth of their Politics, and the Height of their Elevations might be\nsuspected, and might give us Room to charge them with Subterranean\nIntelligence; I say, it might be expected that I should clear up their\nFame, and assure the World concerning them, even by Name, that they are\nno _Conjurers_, that they do not deal with the _Devil_, at least, not by\nthe Way Witchcraft and Divination, such as Sir _T---k_, _E--- B---_,\nEsq; my Lord _Homily_, Coll. _Swagger_, _Jeoffry Well with_, Esq; Capt.\n_Harry Go Deeper_, Mr. _Wellcome Woollen_, Citizen and Merchant Taylor\nof _London_, _Henry Cadaver_, Esq; the D---- of _Caerfilly_, the\nMarquess of _Sillyhoo_, Sir _Edward Thro' and Thro'_ Bart. and a World\nof fine Gentlemen more, whose great Heads and Weighty Understandings\nhave given the World such Occasion to challenge them with being at least\ndescended from the _Magi_, and perhaps engaged with old Satan in his\nPolitics and Experiments; but I, that have such good Intelligence among\n_Satan_'s Ministers of State, as is necessary to the present\nUndertaking, am thereby well able to clear up their Characters: and I\ndoubt not, but they will value themselves upon it, and acknowledge\ntheir Obligation to me, for letting the World know the _Devil_ does not\npretend to have had any Business with them, or to have enroll'd them in\nthe List of his Operators; _in a Word_, that none of them are\n_Conjurers_: Upon which Testimony of mine, I expect they be no longer\ncharg'd with, or so much as suspected of having an unlawful Quantity of\nWit, or having any Sorts of it about them, that are contraband or\nprohibited, but that for the future they pass unmolested, and be taken\nfor nothing but what they are, (_viz._) very honest worthy Gentlemen.\nCHAP. X.\n_Of the various Methods the Devil takes to converse with Mankind._\nHaving spoken something of Persons, and particularly of such as the\n_Devil_ thinks fit to employ in his Affairs in the World, it comes next\nof course to say something of the Manner how he communicates his Mind to\nthem, and by them to the rest of his Acquaintance in the World.\nI take the _Devil_ to be under great Difficulties in his Affairs on his\nPart, especially occasion'd by the Bounds which are set him, or which\nPolicys oblige him to set to himself, in his Access to the conversing\nwith Mankind; 'tis evident he is not permitted to fall upon them with\nForce and Arms, that is to say, to muster up his infernal Troops, and\nattack them with Fire and Sword; if he was not loose to act in this\nManner as he was able, by his own seraphic Power to have destroy'd the\nwhole Race, and even the Earth they dwelt upon, so he would certainly,\nand long ago have effectually done it; his particular Interests and\nInclinations are well enough known.\nBut in the next Place, as he is thus restrain'd from Violence, so\nPrudentials restrain him in all his other Actings with Mankind; and\nbeing confin'd to Stratagem, and soft still Methods, such as Persuasion,\nAllurement, feeding the Appetite, prompting, and then gratifying corrupt\nDesires, and the like; he finds it for his Purpose not to appear in\nPerson, except very rarely, and then in Disguise; but to act all the\nrest in the Dark, under the Vizor of Art and Craft, making Use of\nPersons and Methods conceal'd, or at least not fully understood or\ndiscover'd.\nAs to the Persons whom he employs, I have taken some Pains you see to\ndiscover some of them; but the Methods he uses with them, either to\ninform and instruct, and give Orders to them, or to converse with other\nPeople by them, these are very particular, and deserve some Place in our\nMemoirs, particularly as they may serve to remove some of our Mistakes,\nand to take off some of the frightful Ideas we are apt to entertain in\nPrejudice of this great Manager; as if he was no more to be match'd in\nhis Politics, than he would be to be match'd in his Power, if it was let\nloose; which is so much a Mistake, that on the contrary, we read of\nseveral People that have abused and cheated the _Devil_, a Thing, which\nI cannot say, is very honest nor just, notwithstanding the old Latin\nProverb, _Fallere fallentem non est fraus_, (which Men construe, or\nrather render, by way of Banter Upon Satan) 'tis no Sin to cheat the\n_Devil_, which for all that, upon the whole I deny, and alledge, that\nlet the _Devil_ act how he will by us, we ought to deal fairly by him.\nBut to come to the Business, without Circumlocutions; I am to enquire\nhow Satan issues out his Orders, gives his Instructions and fully\ndelivers his Mind to his Emissaries, of whom I have mention'd some in\nthe Title to Chap. IX. In order to this, you must form an Idea of the\n_Devil_ sitting in great State, in open Campaign, with all his Legions\nabout him, in the height of the Atmosphere; or if you will, at a certain\nDistance from the Atmosphere, and above it, that the Plan of his\nEncampment might not be hurried round its own Axis, with the Earth's\ndiurnal Motion, which might be some Disturbance to him.\nBy this fix'd Situation, the Earth performing its Rotation, he has every\nPart and Parcel of it brought to a direct Opposition to him, and\nconsequently to his View once in twenty four Hours: The last time I was\nthere, if I remember right, he had this Quarter of the World, which we\ncall Christendom, just under his Eye; and as the Motion is not so swift,\nbut that his piercing Opticks can take a strict View of it _en passant_;\nfor the Circumference of it being but twenty one thousand Miles, and its\ncircular Motion being full twenty four Hours performing, he has\nsomething more than an Hour to view every thousand Miles, which, to his\nsupernatural Penetration, is not worth naming.\nAs he takes thus a daily View of all the Circle, and an hourly View of\nthe Parts, he is fully Master of all Transactions, at least such as are\ndone above Board by all Mankind; and then he dispatches his Emissaries\nor _Aid du Camps_ to every Part with his Orders and Instructions: Now\nthese Emissaries, you are to understand, are not the _Witches_ and\n_Diviners_, who I spoke of above, for I call them also Emissaries; but\nthey are all _Devils_ or (as you know they are call'd) _Devil_'s Angels;\nand these may, perhaps, come and converse personally with the\nSub-emissaries I mention'd, to be ready for their Support and Assistance\non all Occasions of Business: These are those _Devils_ which the Witches\nare said to raise; for we can hardly suppose the Master _Devil_ comes\nhimself, at the Summons of every ugly old Woman.\nThese run about into every Nook and Corner, wherever Satan's Business\ncalls them, and are never wanting to him; but are the most diligent\n_Devils_ imaginable; like the _Turkish Chaiux_, they no sooner receive\ntheir Errand, but they execute it with the utmost Alacrity; and as to\ntheir Speed, it may be truly written as a Motto, upon the Head of every\nindividual _Devil_,\n  _Non indiget calcaribus._\nThese are those, who they tell us our Witches, Sorcerers, Wizards, and\nsuch Sorts of Folks converse freely with, and are therefore call'd their\n_Familiars_; and as they tell us, come to them in human Shapes, talk to\nthem with articulate plain Voices, as if Men, and that yet the said\nWitches, _&c._ know them to be _Devils_.\nHistory has not yet enlighten'd us in this Part of useful Knowledge, or\nat least not sufficiently for a Description of the Persons or Habits of\nthese Sorts of Appearances; as what Shapes they take up, what Language\nthey speak, and what particular Works they perform, so we must refer it\nto farther Enquiry; but if we may credit History, we are told many\nfamous Stories of these Appearances; for Example, the famous Mother\n_Lakland_, who was burnt for a Witch at _Ipswich_, _Anno_ 1646,\nconfessed at the Time of her Execution, or a little before it, that she\nhad frequent Conversation with the _Devil_ himself; that she being very\npoor, and withal of a devilish passionate, cruel and revengeful\nDisposition before, used to wish she had it in her Power to do such and\nsuch mischievous Things to some that she hated; and that the _Devil_\nhimself, who, it seems, knew her Temper, came to her one Night as she\nlay in her Bed, and was between sleeping and waking, and speaking in a\ndeep hollow Voice, told her; if she would serve him in some Things he\nwould employ her to do, she should have her Will of all her Enemies, and\nshould want for nothing: That she was much afraid at first, but that he\nsolliciting her very often, bad her not be afraid of him, and still\nurg'd her to yield, and as she says, struck his Claw into her Hand, and\ntho' it did not hurt her, made it bleed, and with the Blood wrote the\nCovenants, that is to say, the Bargain between them: being ask'd what\nwas in them, and whether he requir'd her to curse or deny God or Christ?\nShe said no.\n     N. B. I do not find she told them whether the _Devil_ wrote it with\n        a Pen, or whether on Paper or Parchment, nor whether she sign'd it\n        or no, but it seems he carry'd it away with him. I suppose, if\n        Satan's Register were examin'd, it might be found among the\n        Archives of Hell, the Rolls of his _acta Publica_; and when his\n        Historiographer Royal publishes them, we may look for it among\nThen he furnish'd her with three _Devils_, to wait upon her (I suppose)\nfor she confess'd they were to be employ'd in her Service; they attended\nin the Shapes of two little Dogs and a Mole: The first she bewitch'd\nwas her own Husband, by which he lay a while in great Misery and died;\nthen she sent to one Captain _Beal_ and burnt a new Ship of his just\nbuilt, which had never been at Sea; these and many other horrid Things\nshe did and confess'd, and having been twenty Years a Witch, at last the\n_Devil_ left her, and she was burnt as she deserv'd.\nThat some extraordinary Occasions may bring these Agents of the _Devil_,\nnay, sometimes the _Devil_ himself, to assume human Shapes, and appear\nto other People we cannot doubt; he did thus in the Case of our Saviour\n_as a Tempter_, and some think he did so to _Manasses_ as a Familiar,\nwho the Scripture charges with Sorcery, and having a Familiar or Devil;\nFame tells us that St. _Dunstan_ frequently converst with him, and\nfinally, took him by the Nose; and so of others.\nBut in these modern Ages of the World, he finds it much more to his\nPurpose to work under Ground as I have observ'd, and to keep upon the\nReserve; so that we have no authentick Accounts of his personal\nAppearance, but what are very antient or very remote from our Faith, as\nwell as our Enquiry.\nIt seems to be a Question that would bear some debating, whether all\nApparitions are not _Devils_ or from the _Devil_; but there being so\nmany of those Apparitions which we call Spirits, which really assume\nShapes and make Appearances in the World, upon such Accounts as we know\n_Satan_ himself scorns to be employ'd in, that I must dismiss the\nQuestion in favour of the _Devil_; assuring them, that as he never\nwillingly did any good in his Life, so he would be far from giving\nhimself the Trouble of setting one Foot into the World, on such an\nErrand; and for that Reason we maybe assur'd those certain Apparitions,\nwhich we are told came to detect a Murther in _Gloucestershire_, and\nothers who appear'd to prevent the ruining an Orphan for want of finding\na Deed, that was not lost, was certainly some other Power equally\nconcern'd, and not the _Devil_.\nOn the other Hand, neither will it follow that _Satan_ never appears in\nhuman Shape; for tho' every Apparition may not be the _Devil_, yet it\ndoes not follow that the _Devil_ never makes an Apparition: All I shall\nsay to it is, as I have mention'd before, that generally speaking, the\n_Devil_ finds it more for his Purpose, to have his Interest in the World\npropagated another Way; namely, in private, and his personal Appearances\nare reserv'd for Things only of extraordinary Consequence, and, as I may\nsay, of evident Necessity, where his Honour is concern'd, and where his\nInterest could be carried on no other Way; not forgetting to take Notice\nthat this is very seldom.\nIt remains to enquire, what then those Things are which we make so much\nstir about, and which are call'd _Apparitions_, or Spirits assuming\nhuman Shapes, and shewing themselves to People on particular Occasions?\nwhether they are evil Spirits or good? and tho', indeed, this is out of\nmy Way at this Time, and does not relate at all to the _Devil_'s\nHistory, yet I thought it not amiss to mention it; (1.) Because, as I\nhave said, I do not wholly exclude Satan from all Concern in such\nThings; and (2.) Because I shall dismiss the Question with so very short\nan Answer, namely, that we may determine which are and which are not the\n_Devil_'s, by the Errand they come upon; every one to his own Business;\nif it comes of a good Errand, you may certainly acquit the _Devil_ of\nit, conclude him innocent, and that he has no hand in it; if it comes of\na wicked and devilish Errand, you may e'en take him up upon Suspicion,\n'tis ten to one but you find him at the Bottom of it.\nNext to Apparitions, we find Mankind disturb'd by abundance of little\nodd reserv'd Ways which the _Devil_ is shrewdly suspected of having a\nHand in, such as _Dreams_, _Noises_, _Voices_, &c. smells of Brimstone,\nCandles burning blue, and the like.\nAs to Dreams, I have nothing to say in Satan's Prejudice at all there; I\nmake no Question but he deals very much in that Kind of Intelligence,\nand why should he not? we know _Heaven_ it self formerly converst very\noften with the greatest of Men, by the same Method, and the _Devil_ is\nknown to mimick the Methods, as well as the Actions of his Maker;\nwhether Heaven has not quite left off that Way of working, we are not\ncertain; but we pretty well know the _Devil_ has not left it, and I\nbelieve some Instances may be given where his Worship has been really\nseen and talk'd to in sleep, as much as if the Person had been awake\nwith his Eyes open.\nThese are to be distinguish'd too, pretty much by the Goodness or\nBadness of the Subject; how often have Men committed Murther, Robbery\nand Adultery in a Dream, and at the same time except an extraordinary\nAgitation of the Soul, and express'd by extraordinary Noises in the\nSleep, by violent Sweating and other such Ways, the Head has never been\nremov'd from the Pillow, or the Body so much as turn'd in the Bed?\nWhether in such Cases, the Soul with all the Passions and Affections\nbeing agitated, and giving their full assent to the Facts, of whatever\nKind soever, the Man is not as guilty as if the Sins so dream'd of his\ncommitting, had been actually committed? tho' it be no Doubt to me, but\nthat it is so, yet as it is foreign to the present Affair, and not at\nall relating to the _Devil_'s History, I leave it to the Reverend\nDoctors of the Church, as properly belonging to them to decide.\nI knew a Person who the _Devil_ so haunted with naked Women, fine\nbeautiful Ladies in Bed with him, and Ladies of his Acquaintance too,\noffering their Favours to him, and all in his Sleep; so that he seldom\nslept without some such Entertainment; the Particulars are too gross for\nmy Story, but he gave me several long Accounts of his Night's _Amours_,\nand being a Man of a virtuous Life and good Morals, it was the greatest\nSurprize to him imaginable; for you cannot doubt but that the cunning\n_Devil_ made every thing be acted to the Life with him, and in a manner\nthe most wicked; he own'd with Grief to me, that the very first Attack\nthe _Devil_ made upon him, was with a very beautiful Lady of his\nAcquaintance, who he had been really something freer than ordinary with\nin their common Conversation; This Lady he brought to him in a Posture\nfor Wickedness, and wrought up his Inclination so high in his Sleep,\nthat he, as he thought, actually went about to debauch her, she not at\nall resisting; but that he wak'd in the very Moment, to his particular\nSatisfaction.\nHe was greatly concern'd at this Part, namely, that he really gave the\nConsent of his Will to the Fact, and wanted to know if he was not as\nguilty of Adultery, as if he had lain with her; indeed he decided the\nQuestion against himself, so forcibly, that I, who was of the same\nOpinion before, had nothing to say against it; however, I confirm'd him\nin it, by asking him these Questions.\n     1. Whether he did not think the _Devil_ had the chief Hand in such\n     a Dream? he answer'd, it could certainly be no body else, it must\n     be the _Devil_.\n     2. I then ask'd him what Reason the _Devil_ could have for it, if\n     his Consent to the Fact in Sleep had not been criminal? _That's\n     true indeed_, says he, _I am answer'd_: But then he ask'd another\n     Question, which, I confess, is not so easy to answer, namely, How\n     he should prevent being serv'd so again.\nNor could all my Divinity or his own keep the _Devil_ from attacking him\nagain; on the other Hand, as I have said, he worried him to that Degree,\nthat he injur'd his Health, bringing naked Women to him, sometimes one,\nsometimes another, sometimes in one Posture of Lewdness, sometimes in\nanother, sometimes into his very Arms, sometimes with such Additions as\nI am not merry enough, and sometimes such as I am not wicked enough to\nput into your Heads; the Man, indeed, could not help it, and so the\n_Devil_ was more Faulty than he; but as I hinted to him, he might bring\nhis Mind to such a stated Habit of Virtue, as to prevent its assenting\nto any wicked Motion, even in Sleep, and that would be the Way to put an\nEnd to the Attempt; and this Advice he relish'd very well, and\npractised, I believe, with Success.\nBy this same Method, the same _Devil_ injects powerful Incentives to\nother Crimes, provokes Avarice, by laying a great Quantity of Gold in\nyour View, and no body present, giving you an Opportunity to steal it,\nor some of it, at the same time, perhaps, knowing your Circumstances to\nbe such as that you are at that Time in a great want of the Money.\nI knew another, who being a Tradesman, and in great Distress for Money\nin his Business, dream'd that he was walking all alone in a great Wood,\nand that he met a little Child with a Bag of Gold in its Hand, and a\nfine Necklace of Diamonds on its Neck, upon the Sight, his Wants\npresently dictated to him to rob the Child; the little innocent\nCreature, (just so he dream'd) not being able to resist; or to tell who\nit was, accordingly he consented to take the Money from the Child, and\nthen to take the Diamond Necklace from it too, and did so.\nBut the _Devil_, (a full Testimony, as I told him, that it was the\n_Devil_, not contented with that, hinted to him, that perhaps the Child\nmight some time or other know him, and single him out, by crying or\npointing, or some such Thing, especially if he was suspected and shew'd\nto it, and therefore it would be better for him to kill the Child,\nprompting him to kill it for his own Safety, and that he need do no more\nbut twist the Neck of it a little, or crush it with his Knee; He told me\nhe stood debating with himself, whether he should do so or not; but that\nin that Instant his Heart struck him with the Word Murther, and he\nentertain'd a Horror of it, refus'd to do it, and immediately waked.\nHe told me, that when he wak'd, he found himself in so violent a Sweat\nas he never had known the like; that his Pulse beat with that Heat and\nRage, that it was like a Palpitation of the Heart to him, and that the\nAgitation of his Spirits was such, that he was not fully composed in\nsome Hours; tho' the Satisfaction and Joy that attended him, when he\nfound it was but a Dream, assisted much to return his Spirits to their\ndue Temperament.\nIt is neither my Business or Inclination to turn Divine here, nor is the\nAge I write to sufficiently Grave to relish a Sermon, if I was disposed\nto preach, though they must allow the Subject would very well bear it;\nbut I shall only ask them, if they think this is not the _Devil_, what\nthey think it is? If they believe it is the _Devil_, they will act\naccordingly I hope, or let it alone, as Satan and they can agree about\nit.\nI should not oblige the _Devil_ over much, whatever I might do to those\nthat read it; if I should enter here upon a Debate of Interests,\n(_viz._) to enquire whether the _Devil_ has not a vast Advantage upon\nMankind this Way, and whether it is not much his Interest to preserve\nit; and if I prove the Affirmative, I leave it to you to enquire whose\nInterest it is to disappoint and supplant him.\nIn short, I take Dreams to be the second Best of the Advantages the\n_Devil_ has over Mankind; the first, I suppose, you all know (_viz._)\nthe Treachery of the Garrison within; by Dreams he may be said to get\ninto the Inside of us without Opposition; here he opens and locks\nwithout a Key, and like an Enemy laying siege to a fortified City,\nReason and Nature, the Governor of the City, keep him out by Day, and\nkeep the Garrison true to their Duty; but in the Dark he gets in and\nparlees with the Garrison (the Affections and Passions) Debauches their\nLoyalty, stirring up them to Disloyalty and Rebellion, so they betray\ntheir Trust, Revolt, Mutiny, and go over to the Besieger.\nThus he manages his Interest, I say, and insinuates himself into the\nInside of us, without our Consent, nay, without our Knowledge; for\nwhatever Speculation may do, 'tis evident Demonstration does not assist\nus to discover which Way he gets Access to the Soul, while the Organ\ntied up, and dozed with Sleep has lock'd it up from Action; that it is\nso is clear, but how he does it is a Secret which I do not find the\nAntients or Moderns have yet made a Discovery of.\nThat Devil of a Creature, Mother _Lakland_, whose Story I mention'd\nabove, acknowledg'd that the first Time the _Devil_ attempted to draw\nher in to be a Witch was in a Dream, and even when she consented, she\nsaid, she was between sleeping and waking; that is, she did not know\nwhether she was awake or asleep, and the cunning Devil it seems was\nsatisfied with her Assent given so, when she was asleep, or neither\nasleep or awake, so taking the Advantage of her Incapacity to act\nrationally.\nThe Stories of her bewitching several People, and the manner in which\nthey died, are so formidable and extravagant, that I care not to put any\none's Faith to the stretch about them, tho' publish'd by Authority, and\ntestified by Abundance of Witnesses; but this is recorded in particular,\nand to my Purpose, whether from her own Mouth or not, I do not say,\nnamely, the Description of a Witch, and the Difference between Witches,\nand those other of Satan's Acquaintance who act in his Name.\n     1. They have consulted and covenanted with a Spirit or _Devil_.\n     2. They have a Deputy _Devil_, sometimes several to serve and\n     assist them.\n     3. These they employ as they please, call them by Name, and command\n     their Appearance in whatever Shape they think fit.\n     4. They send them abroad to or into the Persons who they design to\n     bewitch, who they always torment, and often murther them, as Mother\n     _Lakland_ did several.\nAs to the Difference between the several Devils that appear, it relates\nto the Office of the Persons who employ them; as Conjurers, who seem to\ncommand the particular _Devil_ that waits upon them with more Authority,\nand raise them and lay them at Pleasure, drawing Circles, casting\nFigures, and the like; but the Witch, in a more familiar manner,\nwhispers with the Devil, keeps the _Devil_ in a Bag or a Sack, sometimes\nin her Pocket, and the like, and like Mr. _Faux_ shews Tricks with him.\nBut all these Kinds deal much in Dreams, talk with the Devil in their\nSleep, and make other People talk with him in their Sleep too; and 'tis\non this Occasion I mention it here; in short, the Devil may well take\nthis Opportunity with Mankind, for not half the World that came into his\nMeasures would comply, if they were awake; but of that hereafter.\nAnd yet his thus insinuating himself by Dream, does not seem sufficient,\nin my Opinion, to answer the _Devil_'s End, and to carry on his\nBusiness; and therefore we must be forc'd to allow him a Kind of actual\nPossession, in particular Cases, and that in the Souls of some People,\nby different Methods from others; _Luther_ is of the Opinion that the\n_Devil_ gets a Familiarity with some Souls just at, or rather before\ntheir being embodied; as to the Manner and Method how he gets in, that\nis another Question, and may be spoken of by it self; besides, why may\nnot he, that at Satan's Request to enter into the Herd of Swine, said\n_go_, give the same Commission to possess a sort of Creatures so many\nDegrees below the Dignity of the _Gaderenian_ Swine, and open the Door\ntoo? but as for that, when our Lord said _go_, the _Devil_ never\nenquir'd which Way he should get in.\nWhen then I see Nations, or indeed Herds of Nations set on Fire of Hell,\nand as I may say, enflam'd by the _Devil_; when I see Towns, Parties,\nFactions and Rabbles of People visibly possess'd; 'tis enough to me that\nthe great Master of the Devils has said to him, GO; there's no need to\nenquire which Way he finds open, or at what postern Gate he gets in; as\nto his appearing, 'tis plain he often gets in without appearing, and\ntherefore the Question about his appearing still remains a Doubt, and is\nnot very easy to be resolv'd.\nIn the Scripture we have some Light into it, and that is all the Help I\nfind from Antiquity, and it goes a great Way to solve the Ph\u00e6nomena of\nSatan's appearing; what I mean by the Scripture giving some Light to it,\nis this; 'tis said in several Places, and of several Persons, God came\nto them in a Dream, _Gen._ xx. 3. _God came to_ Abimelech _in a Dream by\nNight_, Gen. xxxi. 24. _And God came to_ Laban _the_ Syrian _in a\nDream_, Matt. ii. 13. _The Angel of the Lord appear'd to_ Joseph _in a\nDream_; short Comments are sufficient to plain Texts, applying this to\nmy Friend when he wanted to be satisfied about the How, relating to his\nDream (_viz._) how he should come to Dream such wicked Things? I told\nhim, in short, the Case was plain, _the Devil came to him in a Dream by\nNight_: How and in what manner he form'd the wicked Representations, and\nspread debauch'd Appearances before his Fancy, by real Whispers and\nVoice, according to _Milton_, or by what other Methods, the Learned are\nnot arriv'd to any Certainty about it.\nThis leads me necessarily to enquire whether the _Devil_ or some of his\nAgents are not always in our Company, whether they make any visible\nAppearances or no? For my Part I make no Question of it, how else could\nhe come at the Knowledge of what we do; for as I can allow him no\nPrescience at all, as for many Reasons I have observ'd already, he must\nbe able to see and know us, and what we are about when we know nothing\nof him, or else he could know nothing of us and our Affairs, which yet\nwe find otherwise; and this gives him infinite Advantage to Influence\nour Actions, to judge of our Inclinations, and to bring our Passions to\nclash with our Reason, as they often do, and get the better of it too.\nAll this he obtains by his being able to walk about invisible, and see\nwhen he is not seen, of which I have spoken already; hence that most\nwise and solid Suggestion, that when the Candles burn blue the _Devil_\nis in the Room, which great Secret in Nature, that you may more fully be\nconvinc'd of its imaginary Reality, I must tell you the following Story\nwhich I saw in a Letter directed to a particular Friend, take it Word\nfor Word as in the Letter; because I do not make my self accountable for\nthe Facts, but take them _ad referendum_.\nSIR,\nWe had one Day, very early in the Morning, and for the most Part of the\nDay a great deal of Rain with a high Wind, and the Clouds very thick and\ndark all Day.\nIn the Evening the cloudy thick Weather continued, tho' not the Rain,\nwhen being at a Friend's House in ---- Lane _London_, and several Ladies\nand some Gentlemen in the Room, besides two or three Servants (for we\nhad been eating) the following Interlude happen'd for our Entertainment:\nWhen the Cloth was taken away, two large Candles were brought upon the\nTable and plac'd there with some Bottles and Glasses for the Gentlemen,\nwho, it seems, were intending to drink and be very merry; two large\nWax-Candles were also set on another Table, the Ladies being going to\nCards, also there were two large Candles in Sconces over or near the\nChimney, and one more in a Looking-Glass Sconce, on a Peer by the\nWindow.\nWith all this _Apparatus_, the Company separating sat down, the\nGentlemen at their Table, and the Ladies at theirs, to play _as above_;\nwhen after some time the Gentleman of the House said hastily to a\nServant, _what a P---- ails the Candles_? and turning to the Servant\nraps out an Oath or two, and bids him snuff the Candles, for they burnt\nas if the Devil was in the Room.\nThe Fellow going to snuff one of the Candles, snuffs it out, at which\nhis Master being in a Passion the Fellow lights it again immediately at\nthe other Candle, and then being in a little hurry, going to snuff the\nother Candle snuffed that out too.\nThe first Candle that was relighted (as is usual in such Cases) burn'd\ndim and dull for a good while, and the other being out, the Room was\nmuch darker than before, and a Wench that stood by the Ladies Table,\nbawls out to her Mistress, _Law Madam!_ the Candles _burn blue_; an old\nLady that sat by says, _ay Betty!_ so they do; upon this one of the\nLadies starts up, _Mercy upon us_, says she, _what is the Matter!_ In\nthis unlucky Moment another Servant, without Orders, went to the great\nPeer Sconce, and because, _as he thought_, he would be sure to snuff the\nCandle well, he offers to take it down, but very unhappily, I say, the\nHook came out and down falls the Sconce Candle and all, and the\nLooking-Glass broke all to pieces, with a horrible Noise; however, the\nCandle falling out of the Sconce did not go out, but lay on the Floor\nburning dully, and as it is usual on such Cases, all on one Side,\n_Betty_ cries out again, _Law Madam_, that Candle burns blue too; the\nvery Moment she said this, the Footman that had thrown down the Sconce,\nsays to his fellow Servant, that came to his Assistance, I _think_ the\nDevil _is in the Candles to Night_, and away he run out of the Room, for\nfear of his Master.\nThe old Lady, who, upon the Maid _Betty_'s Notion of the Candles burning\nblue, had her Head just full of that old _Chimney-Corner Story_, the\nCandles _burn blue when the Spirits are in the Room_, heard the Footman\nSay the Word _Devil_, but heard nothing else of what he said; upon this\nshe rises up in a terrible Fright, and cries out that the Footman said\nthe _Devil was in the Room_; as she was, indeed, frighted out of her\nWits, she frighted the Ladies most terribly, and they all starting up\ntogether, down goes the Card Table, and put the Wax-Candles out.\nMrs. _Betty_, that had frighted them all, runs to the Sconce next the\nChimney, but that having a long Snuff, she cried out it burnt blue too,\nand she durst not touch it; in short, tho' there were three Candles left\nstill burning in the Room, yet the Ladies we're all so frighted, that\nthey and the Maids too run out of the Parlour screaming like mad Folks.\nThe Master in a Rage kick'd his first Man out of the Room, and the\nsecond Man was run out to avoid, as I said before, the like, so that no\nServant was to be had, but all was in Confusion.\nThe two other Gentlemen, who were sitting at the first Table, kept their\nSeats composed and easy enough, only concern'd to see all the House in\nsuch a fright; it was true, they said, the Candles burnt dim and very\noddly, but they could not perceive they _burnt blue_, except one of\nthose over the Chimney, and that on the Table, which was relighted\nafter the Fellow had snufft it out.\nHowever, the Maid, the old Lady and the Footman that pull'd down the\nSconce, all insist that the Candles _burnt blue_, and all pretend that\nthe Devil was certainly in the Room, and was the Occasion of it; and\nthey now came to me with the Story, to desire my Opinion of it.\nThis put me upon Enquiry into the Notion of Candles _burning blue_ when\nSpirits are in a Room, which upon all the Search into Things, that I am\nable to make, amounts to no more than this; that upon any extraordinary\nEmission of sulphureous or of nitrous Particles, either in a close Room,\nor in any not very open Place, if the Quantity be great, a Candle or\nLamp, or any such little Blaze of Fire will seem to be, or to _burn\nblue_; and if then they can prove that any such Effluvia attends or is\nemitted from a Spirit, then when SATAN is at Hand it may be so.\nBut then 'tis begging the Question grossly, because no Man can assure us\nthat the Devil has any sulphureous Particles about him.\nIt is true, the Candles burn thus in Mines and Vaults, and damp Places;\nand 'tis as true that they will do so upon Occasion of very damp, stormy\nand moist Air, when an extraordinary Quantity of Vapours are supposed to\nbe dispers'd abroad, as was the Case when this happen'd; and if there\nwas any Thing of that in it on that _Monday_ Night, the Candles might,\nperhaps, burn blue upon that Occasion; but that the _Devil_ was abroad\nupon any extraordinary Business that Night, that I cannot grant, unless\nI have some better Testimony than the _old Lady_ that heard the\nFootman's out-cry but by halves, or than Mrs. _Betty_, who first fancied\nthe Candles _burnt blue_; so I must suspend my Judgment till I hear\nfarther.\nThis Story however may solve a great many of those Things which pass for\nApparitions in the World, and which are laid to the Devil's Charge, tho'\nhe really may know nothing of the Matter; and this would bring me to\ndefend _Satan_ in many Things, wherein he may truly be said to suffer\nwrongfully; and if I thought it would oblige him, I might say something\nto his Advantage this Way; however, I'll venture a Word or two for an\ninjur'd _Devil_, take it as you will.\nFirst, it is certain, that as this Invisibility of the _Devil_ is very\nmuch to our Prejudice, so the Doctrine of his Visibility is a great\nPrejudice to him, as we make Use of it.\nBy his Invisibility he is certainly vested with infinite Advantages\nagainst us; while he can be present with us, and we know nothing of the\nMatter, he informs himself of all our Measures, and arms himself in the\nbest and most suitable manner to injure and assault us, as he can\ncounteract all our secret concerted Designs, disappoint all our Schemes,\nand except when Heaven apparently concerns it self to over-rule him, can\ndefeat all our Enterprizes, break all our Measures, and do us Mischief\nin almost every Part of our Life, and all this, because we are not privy\nto all his Motions, as he is to ours.\nBut now for his Visibility and his real Appearance in the World, and\nparticularly among his Disciples and Emissaries, such as Witches and\nWizards, Demonaists, and the like: Here, I think Satan has a great deal\nof Loss, suffers manifest Injury, and has great Injustice done him; and,\nthat therefore I ought to clear this Matter up a little, if it be\npossible, to do Justice to Satan, and set Matters right in the World\nabout him, according to that useful old Maxim of setting the Saddle upon\nthe right Horse, or _giving the_ Devil _his due_.\nFirst, _as I have said_, we are not to believe every idle Head, who\npretends even to converse Face to Face with the _Devil_, and who tells\nus, they have thus seen him, and been acquainted with him every Day:\nMany of these Pretenders are manifest Cheats; and, however, they would\nhave the Honour of a private Interest in him, and boast how they have\nhim at their Beck, can call him this Way, and send him that, as they\nplease, raise him and lay him when and how, and as often as they find\nfor their Purpose; I say, whatever Boasts they make of this Kind, they\nreally have nothing of Truth in them.\nNow the Injuries and Injustice done to the _Devil_, in these Cases, are\nmanifest; namely, that they entitle the _Devil_ to all the Mischief they\nare pleased to do in the World; and if they commit a Murther or a\nRobbery, fire a House, or do any Act of Violence in the World, they\npresently are said to do it by the Agency of the _Devil_, and the\n_Devil_ helps them; so Satan bears the Reproach, and they have all the\nGuilt; this is, (1.) a grand Cheat upon the World, and (2.) a notorious\nSlander upon the _Devil_; and it would be a public Benefit to Mankind,\nto have such would-be-Devils as these turn'd inside out, that we might\nknow when the _Devil_ was really at work among us, and when not; what\nMischiefs were of his doing, and which were not; and that these Fellows\nmight not slip their Necks out of the Halter, by continually laying the\nBlame of their Wickedness upon the _Devil_.\nNot that the _Devil_ is not very willing to have his Hand in any\nMischief, or in all the Mischief that is done in the World; but there\nare some low priz'd Rogueries that are too little for him, beneath the\nDignity of his Operation, and which 'tis really a Scandal to the _Devil_\nto charge upon him. I remember the _Devil_ had such a Cheat put upon\nhim in _East-Smithfield_ once, where a Person pretended to converse with\nthe _Devil_ Face to Face, and that in open Day too, and to cause him to\ntell Fortunes, foretel Good and Evil, _&c._ discover stollen Goods, tell\nwhere they were who stole them, and how to find them again, nay, and\neven to find out the Thieves; but _Satan_ was really sandered in the\nCase, the Fellow had no more to do with the _Devil_ than other People,\nand perhaps not so much neither: This was one of those they call'd\nCUNNING-MEN, or at least he endeavour'd to pass for such a one, but\n'twas all a Cheat.\nBesides, what had the _Devil_ to do to detect Thieves, and restore\nstollen Goods? Thieving and Robbing, Trick and Cheat, are part of the\nCraft of his Agency, and of the Employments which it is his Business to\nencourage; they greatly mistake him, who think he will assist any Body\nin suppressing and detecting such laudable Arts and such diligent\nServants.\nI won't say, but the _Devil_, to draw these People we call\n_Cunning-Men_, into a Snare, and to push on his farther Designs, may\nencourage them privately, and in a manner that they themselves know\nnothing of, to make use of his Name, and abuse the World about him, till\nat last they may really believe they do deal with the _Devil_, when\nindeed 'tis only he deals with them, and they know nothing of the\nMatter.\nIn other Cases he may encourage them in these little Frauds and Cheats,\nand give them leave, as above, to make use of his Name to bring them\nafterwards, and by Degrees to have a real Acquaintance with him; so\nbringing the Jest of their Trade into Earnest, till at length prompting\nthem to commit some great Villany, he secures them to be his own, by\ntheir very Fear of his leaving them to be exposed to the World; thus he\nputs a _Jonathan Wild_ upon them, and makes them be the very Wretches\nthey only pretended to be before: So old _Parsons_ of _Clithroe_, as\nFame tells, was twenty five Years a _Cunning-man_, and twenty two Years\na Witch; that is to say, for five and twenty Years, he was only\npretending to deal with the _Devil_, when Satan and he had no manner of\nAcquaintance, and he only put his _Leger-de-main_ upon the People in the\n_Devil_'s Name, without his leave; but at length the _Devil_'s Patience\nbeing tir'd quite out, he told the old Counterfeit, that in short, he\nhad been his stalking Horse long enough, and that now, if he thought fit\nto enter himself, and take a Commission, well and good; and he should\nhave a Lease to carry on his Trade for so many Years more, to his\nHeart's content; but if not, he would expose his Knavery to the World,\nfor that he should take away his Peoples Trade no longer; but that he\n(Satan) would set up another in his Room, that should make a meer Fool\nof him, and carry away all his Customers.\nUpon this, the old Man consider'd of it, took the _Devil_'s Counsel, and\nlisted in his Pay; so he, that had plaid his Pranks twenty five Years as\na Conjurer, when he was no Conjurer, was then forc'd really to deal with\nthe DEVIL, for fear the People should know he did not: Till now he had\n_ambo dexter_, cheated the Devil on one Hand, and the People on the\nother; but the _Devil_ gain'd his Point at last, and so he was a real\nWizard ever after.\nBut this is not the only way the Devil is injur'd neither, for we have\noften found People pretend upon him in other Cases, and of nearer\nConcern to him a great deal, and in Articles more Weighty, as in\nparticular, in the great Business of Possession; it is true this Point\nis not thoro'ly understood among Men, neither has the Devil thought fit\nto give us those Illuminations about it, as I believe he might do;\nparticularly that great and important Article, is not, for ought I can\nsee, rightly explain'd, namely; whether there are not two several Kinds\nof Possession, (_viz._) some wherein the Devil possesses us, and some in\nwhich we really possess the Devil; the Nicety of which I doubt this Age,\nwith all its Penetration, is not qualified to explain, and a\nDissertation upon it being too long for this Work, especially so near\nits Conclusion, I am oblig'd to omit, as I am also all the practical\nDiscourses upon the Usefulness and Advantages of real Possession,\nwhether consider'd one Way or other to Mankind, all which I must leave\nto hereafter.\nBut to come back to the Point in Hand, and to consider the Injustice\ndone to the Devil, in the various Turns and Tricks which Men put upon\nhim very often in this one Article (_viz._) pretending to Possession,\nand to have the Devil in them, when really it is not so; certainly the\nDevil must take it very ill, to have all their demented, lunatick Tricks\ncharg'd upon him; some of which, nay, most of which are so gross, so\nsimple, so empty, and so little to the Purpose, that the _Devil_ must be\nasham'd to see such Things pass in his Name, or that the World should\nthink he was concern'd in them.\nIt is true, that Possession being one of the principal Pieces of the\nDevil's Artifice in his managing Mankind, and in which, with the most\nexquisite skill he plays the Devil among us, he has the more Reason to\nbe affronted when he finds himself invaded in this Part, and angry that\nany Body should pretend to possess, or be possess'd without his leave,\nand this may be the Reason for ought we know, why so many Blunders have\nbeen made, when People have pretended to it without him, and he has\nthought fit not to own them in it; of which we have many Examples in\nHistory, as in _Simon Magus_, _the Devil of_ London, _the fair Maid of_\nKent, and several others, whose History it is not worth while to enlarge\nupon.\nIn short, Possessions, as I have said, are nice Things, as it is not so\neasy to mimick the _Devil_ in that Part, as it may be in some other;\ndesigning Men have attempted it often, but their manner has been easily\ndistinguish'd, even without the Devil's Assistance.\nThus the People of _Salem_ in _New-England_ pretended to be bewitch'd,\nand that a black Man tormented them by the Instigation of such and such,\nwhom they resolv'd to bring to the Gallows: This black Man they would\nhave be the _Devil_, employ'd by the Person who they accus'd for a\nWitch: Thus making the _Devil_ a Page or a Footman to the Wizard, to go\nand torment whoever the said Wizard commanded, till the _Devil_ himself\nwas so weary of the foolish Part, that he left them to go on their own\nWay, and at last they over-acted the murthering Part so far, that when\nthey confess'd themselves to be Witches, and possess'd, and that they\nhad Correspondence with the Devil, _Satan_ not appearing to vouch for\nthem, no Jury would condemn them upon their own Evidence, and they could\nnot get themselves hang'd, whatever Pains they took to bring it to pass.\nThus you see the _Devil_ may be wrong'd, and falsely accus'd in many\nParticulars, and often has been so; there are likewise some other sorts\nof counterfeit _Devils_ in the World, such as _Gypsies_,\n_Fortune-Tellers_, Foretellers of good and bad Luck, Sellers of Winds,\nRaisers of Storms, and many more, some practis'd among us, some in\nforeign Parts, too many almost to reckon up; nay I almost doubt whether\nthe Devil himself knows all the Sorts of them; for 'tis evident he has\nlittle or nothing to do with them, I mean not in the Way of their Craft.\nThese I take to be Interlopers, or with the _Guinea_ Merchants leave,\nseparate Traders, and who act under the Skreen and Protection of Satan's\nPower, but without his License or Authority; no doubt these carry away a\ngreat deal of his Trade, that is to say, the Trade which otherwise the\n_Devil_ might have carried on by Agents or his own; I cannot but say,\nthat while these People would fain be thought _Devils_, tho' they really\nare not, it is but just they should be really made as much _Devils_ as\nthey pretended to be, or that _Satan_ should do himself Justice upon\nthem, as he threaten'd to do upon old _Parsons_ of _Clithroe_\nabovemention'd, and let the World know them.\nCHAP. XI.\n_Of Divination, Sorcery, the Black-Art, Pawawing, and such like Pretenders\n     to Devilism, and how far the_ Devil _is or is not concern'd in them._\nTho' I am writing the History of the _Devil_, I have not undertaken to\ndo the like of all the Kinds of People, Male or Female, who set up for\n_Devils_ in the World: This would be a Task for the _Devil_ indeed, and\nfit only for him to undertake, for their Number is and has been\nprodigious great, and may, with his other Legions be rank'd among the\nInnumerable.\nWhat a World do we inhabit! where there is not only with us a great\n_Roaring-Lyon-Devil_ daily seeking whom of us he may devour, and\ninnumerable Millions of lesser Devils hovering in the whole Atmosphere\nover us, nay, and for ought we know, other Millions always invisibly\nmoving about us, and perhaps in us, or at least in many of us; but that\nhave, besides all these, a vast many counterfeit _Hocus Pocus Devils_;\nhuman _Devils_, who are visible among us, of our own Species and\nFraternity, conversing with us upon all Occasions; who like Mountebanks\nset up their Stages in every Town, chat with us at every Tea-Table,\nconverse with us in every Coffee-House, and impudently tell us to our\nFaces that they are Devils, boast of it, and use a thousand Tricks and\nArts to make us believe it too, and that too often with Success.\nIt must be confess'd there is a strong Propensity in Man's Nature,\nespecially the more ignorant part of Mankind, to resolve every strange\nThing, or whether really strange or no, if it be but strange to us, into\nDevilism, and to say every Thing is the Devil, that they can give no\nAccount of.\nThus the famous Doctors of the Faculty at _Paris_, when _John Faustus_\nbrought the first printed Books that had then been seen in the World, or\nat least seen there, into the City, and sold them for Manuscripts: They\nwere surpriz'd at the Performance, and question'd _Faustus_ about it;\nbut he affirming they were Manuscripts, and that he kept a great many\nClarks employ'd to write them, they were satisfied for a while.\nBut looking farther into the Work, they observ'd the exact Agreement of\nevery Book, one with another, that every Line stood in the same Place,\nevery Page a like Number of Lines, every Line a like Number of Words; if\na Word was mis-spelt in one, it was mis-spelt also in all, nay, that if\nthere was a Blot in one, it was alike in all; they began again to muse,\nhow this should be? in a Word, the learned Divines not being able to\ncomprehend the Thing (and that was always sufficient) concluded it must\nbe the _Devil_, that it was done by Magick and Witchcraft, and that in\nshort, poor _Faustus_ (who was indeed nothing but a meer Printer) dealt\nwith the _Devil_.\n     N. B. _John Faustus_ was Servant, or Journeyman, or Compositor, or\n        what you please to call it, to _Koster_ of _Harlem_, the first\n        inventor of Printing; and having printed the Psalter, sold them at\n        _Paris_ as Manuscripts; because as such they yielded a better\nBut the learned Doctors not being able to understand how the Work was\nperform'd, concluded as above, it was all _the Devil_, and that the Man\nwas a _Witch_; accordingly they took him up for a _Magician_ and a\n_Conjurer_, and one that work'd by the _Black Art_, that is to say, by\nthe help of the _Devil_; and in a Word, they threaten'd to hang him for\na Witch, and in order to it, commenc'd a Process against him in their\ncriminal Courts, which made such a Noise in the World as rais'd the Fame\nof poor _John Faustus_ to a frightful Height, till at last he was\noblig'd, for fear of the Gallows, to discover the whole Secret to them.\n     N. B. This is the true original of the famous Dr. _Faustus_ or\n        _Foster_, of whom we have believ'd such strange Things, as that it\n        is become a Proverb, _as great as the_ Devil _and Dr._ Foster:\n        Whereas poor _Faustus_ was no Doctor, and knew no more of the\n        _Devil_ than another Body.\nThus the Magistrates of _Bern_ and _Switzerland_, finding a Gang of\n_French_ Actors of Puppet-shew open'd their Stage in the Town, upon\nhearing the surprizing Accounts which the People gave of their wonderful\nPuppets, how they made them speak, answer Questions, and discourse,\nappear and disappear in a Moment, pop up here, as if they rise out of\nthe Earth, and down there, as if they vanish'd, and Abundance more Feats\nof Art, censur'd them as Demons; and if they had not pack'd up their\nTrinkets, and disappeared almost as dextrously as their Puppets, they\nhad certainly condemn'd the poor Puppets to the Flames for _Devils_, and\ncensur'd, if not otherwise punished their Masters. See _the Count de\nRochfort's Memoirs_, p. 179.\nWonderful Operations astonish the Mind, especially where the Head is not\nover-burthen'd with Brains; and Custom has made it so natural to give\nthe _Devil_ either the Honour or Scandal of every Thing, that we cannot\notherwise Account for, that it is not possible to put the People out of\nthe Road of it.\nThe _Magicians_ were, in the _Chaldean_ Monarchy, call'd the Wisemen;\nand tho' they are joined with the Sorcerers and Astrologers in the same\nPlace, _Dan._ ii. 4. yet they were generally so understood among those\nPeople; but in our Language we understand them to be People that have an\nArt to reveal Secrets, interpret Dreams, foretel Events, _&c._ and that\nuse Enchantments and Sorceries, by all which we understand the same\nThing; which now in a more vulgar Way we express by one general coarse\nExpression, _Dealing with the_ DEVIL.\nThe Scripture speaks of a Spirit of _Divination_, _Acts_ xvi. 16. and a\nWench that was possess'd by this Spirit _brought her Master much Gain by\nSouthsaying_, that is to say, according to the Learned, by _Oracling_ or\nanswering Questions; whence you will see in the Margin, that this\nsouthsaying _Devil_ is there call'd _Python_, that is, _Apollo_, who is\noften call'd _Python_, and who at the Oracle of _Delphos_ gave out such\nAnswers and _double Entendres_, as this Wench possibly did; and hence\nall those Spirits which were call'd Spirits of Divination, were in\nanother Sense call'd _Pythons_.\nNow when the Apostle St. _Paul_ came to see this Creature, this Spirit\ntakes upon it to declare that _those Men_, meaning St. _Paul_ and\n_Timotheus_, _were the Servants of the most high God, which shew'd unto\nthem the Way of Salvation_; this was a good turn of the _Devil_, to\npreserve his Authority in the possess'd Girl; she brought them Gain by\nSouthsaying, that is to say, resolving difficult Questions, answering\nDoubts, interpreting Dreams, _&c._ Among these Doubts, he makes her give\nTestimony to _Paul_ and _Timotheus_, to wheedle in with the new\nChristians, and perhaps (tho' very ignorantly) even with _Paul_ and\n_Timotheus_ themselves, so to give a Kind of Credit and Respect to her\nfor speaking.\nBut the _Devil_, who never speaks Truth, but with some sinister End, was\ndiscover'd here and detected; his flattering Recognition not accepted,\nand he himself unkennel'd as he deserv'd; there the _Devil_ was\nover-shot in his own Bow again.\nHere now was a real Possession, and the evil Spirits who possess'd her,\ndid stoop to sundry little Acts of Servitude, that we could give little\nor no Reason for, only that the Girl's Master might get Money by her;\nbut perhaps this was a particular Case, and, prepar'd to honour the\nAuthority and Power the Apostles had over evil Spirits.\nBut we find these Things carried a great Way farther in many Cases, that\nis to say, where the Parties are thus really possess'd; namely, the\n_Devil_ makes Agents of the possess'd Parties to do many Things for the\npropagating his Interest and Kingdom, and particularly for the carrying\non his Dominion in the World: But I am for the present not so much upon\nthe real Possession as the pretended, and particularly we have had many\nthat have believed themselves possess'd, when the _Devil_ never believed\nit of them, and perhaps knew them better; some of these are really poor\n_Devils_ to be pitied, and are what I call _Diables Imaginaire_; these\nhave notwithstanding done the _Devil_ good Service, and brought their\nMasters good Gain by Southsaying.\nWe find Possessions acknowledg'd in Scripture to be really and\npersonally the _Devil_, or according to the Text, Legions of _Devils_ in\nthe Plural. The _Devil_ or _Devils_ rather, which possessed the Man\namong the Tombs, is positively affirm'd to be the _Devil_ in the\nScripture; all the Evangelists agree in calling him so, and his very\nWorks shew it; namely, the Mischief he did, as well to the poor Creature\namong the Tombs, who was made so fierce, that he was the Terror of all\nthe Country, as to the Herd of Swine and to the Country in the Loss of\nthem.\nI might preach you a Lecture here of the _Devil_'s Terror upon the\nApproach of our Saviour, the Dread of his Government, and how he\nacknowledg'd that there was a Time for his Torment, which was not yet\ncome: _Art thou come to torment us before our Time?_ It is evident the\nDevil apprehended that Christ would chain them up before the Day of\nJudgment; and therefore some think the Devil here, being, as it were,\ncaught out of his due Bounds, possessing the poor Man in such a furious\nmanner, was afraid, and petition'd Christ not to chain him up for it,\nand as the Text says, _They besought him to suffer them to go away_, &c.\nthat is to say, when they say, art thou come to torment us before the\nTime? the Meaning is, they begg'd he would not cast them into Torment\nbefore the Time, which was already fix'd; but that if he would cast them\nout of the Man, he would let them go away, _&c._\nThe Evangelist St. _Luke_ says, the _Devil besought him that he would\nnot command them to go out into the Deep_: Our learned Annotators think\nthat part is not rightly render'd; adding, that they do not believe the\n_Devil_ fears drowning; but with Submission, I believe the meaning is,\nthat they would not be confin'd to the vast Ocean, where no Inhabitants\nbeing to be seen, they would be effectually imprison'd and tied down\nfrom doing Mischief, which would be a Hell to them; as to their going\ninto the Swine, that might afford us some Allegory; but I am not\ndisposed to jest with the Scripture, no nor with the _Devil_ neither,\nfarther than needs must.\nIt is evident the _Devil_ makes Use of very mean Instruments sometimes,\nsuch as the Damsel possess'd with a Spirit of Divination, and several\nothers.\nI remember a Story, how true I know not, of a weak Creature next Door to\nan Ideot, who was establish'd in the Country for an Oracle, and would\ntell People strange Things that should be, long before they came to\npass; when People were sick, would tell them whether they should live or\ndie; if People were married, tell how many Children they should have;\nand a hundred such Things as fill'd the People with Admiration, and they\nwere the easier brought to believe that the Girl was possess'd; but then\nthey were divided about her too, and that was the finest spun Thread\nthe Devil could work, for he carried a great Point in it; some said she\nhad a good Spirit, and some a bad, some said she was a Prophetess, and\nsome that she was the _Devil_.\nNow had I been there to decide the Question, I should certainly have\ngiven it for the latter; if it were only upon this Account, namely, that\nthe Devil has often found Fools very necessary Agents for the\npropagating his Interest and Kingdom, but we never knew the good Spirits\ndo so; on the other Hand, it does not seem likely that Heaven should\ndeprive a poor Creature of its Senses, and as it were take her Soul from\nher, and then make her an Instrument of Instruction to others, and an\nOracle to declare his Decrees by; this does not seem to be rational.\nBut as far as this kind of Divination is in Use in our Days, yet I do\nnot find room to charge the Devil with making any great Use of Fools,\nunless it be such as he has particularly qualified for his Work, for as\nto _Ideots_ and _Naturals_, they are perfectly useless to him; but a\nsort of Fools call'd the Magi, indeed, we have some Reason to think he\noften works with.\nWe are not arriv'd to a certainty yet, in the settling this great Point,\nnamely, what Magick is? whether a diabolical Art or a Branch of the\nMathematicks? Our most learned _Lexicon Technicum_ is of the latter\nOpinion, and gives the _Magic Square_ and the _Magic Lantern_, two Terms\nof Art.\nThe _Magic Square_ is when Numbers in _Arithmetical Proportion_ are\ndispos'd into such Parallels or equal Ranks, as that the Sums of each\nRow as well _Diagonally_ as _Laterally_ shall be all equal; for Example,\n2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Place these Nine in a Square of three, they\nwill _directly_ and _diagonally_ make 18. Thus,\nThis he calls the _Magic Square_, but gives no Reason for the Term, nor\nany Account of what infernal Operations are wrought by this Concurrence\nof the Numbers; neither do I see that there can be any such Use made of\nit.\nThe _Magic Lantern_ is an optic Machine, by the Means of which are\nrepresented, on a Wall in the Dark, many Phantasms and terrible\nAppearances, _but no_ Devil _in all this_, only that they are taken for\nthe Effects of Magic, by those that are not acquainted with the Secret.\nAll this is done by the help of several little painted Pieces of Glass,\nonly so and so situated, plac'd in certain Oppositions to one another,\nand painted with different Figures, the most formidable being plac'd\nforemost, and such as are most capable of terrifying the Spectators; and\nby this all the Figures may be represented upon the opposite Wall, in\nthe largest Size.\nI cannot but take Notice, that this very Piece of optic Delusion seems\ntoo much akin to the mock Possessions and infernal Accomplishments,\nwhich most of the Possessionists of this Age pretend to, so that they\nare most of them meer Phantasms and Appearances, and no more; Nor is the\nSpirit of Divination, the Magic, the Necromancing, and other Arts which\nwere call'd Diabolical, found to be of any Use in modern Practice, at\nleast, in these Parts of the World; but the Devil seems to do most of\nhis Work himself, and by shorter Methods; for he has so compleat an\nInfluence among those that he now Lists in his Service, that he brings\nall the common Affairs of Mankind into a narrower Compass in his\nManagement, with a Dexterity particular to himself, and by which he\ncarries on his Interest silently and surely, much more to the Detriment\nof Virtue and good Government, and consequently much more to his\nSatisfaction, than ever he did before.\nThere is a Kind of _Magic_ or _Sorcery_, or what else you may please to\ncall it, which, tho' unknown to us, is yet, it seems, still very much\nencourag'd by the _Devil_; but this is a great Way off, and in Countries\nwhere the politer Instruments, which he finds here, are not to be had;\nnamely, among the _Indians_ of _North-America_; This is call'd\n_Pawawing_, and they have their Divines, which they call _Pawaws_ or\nWitches, who use strange Gestures, Distortions, horrid Smokes, Burnings,\nand Scents, and several such Things which the Sorcerers and Witches in\nancient Times are said to use in casting Nativities, in Philtres, and in\ndetermining, or as they pretended, directing the Fate of Persons; by\nburning such and such Herbs and Roots, such as _Helebore_, _Wormwood_,\n_Storax_, _Devilwort_, _Mandrake_, _Nightshade_, and Abundance more\nsuch, which are call'd noxious Plants, or the Product of noxious Plants;\nalso melting such and such Minerals, Gums, and poisonous Things, and by\nseveral hellish Mutterings and Markings over them, the like do these\n_Pawaws_; and the _Devil_ is pleased, it seems, (or is permitted) to\nfall in with these Things, and as some People think, appears often to\nthem for their Assistance upon those Occasions.\nBut be that as it will, he is eas'd of all that Trouble here; he can\n_Pawaw_ here himself, without their aid, and having laid them all aside,\nhe negotiates much of his Business without Ambassadors; he is his own\nPlenipotentiary, for he finds Man so easy to come at, and so easy when\nhe is come at, that he stands in no need of secret Emissaries, or at\nleast not so much as he used to do.\nUpon the whole, as the World, within the Compass of a few pass'd Years\nis advanc'd in all Kinds of Knowledge and Arts, and every useful Branch\nof what they knew before improv'd, and innumerable useful Parts of\nKnowledge, which were conceal'd before are discover'd; why should we\nthink the _Devil_ alone should stand at a stay, has taken no Steps to\nhis farther Accomplishment, and made no useful Discoveries in his Way?\nThat he alone should stand at a Stay, and be just the same unimprov'd\nDevil that he was before? No, no, as the World is improv'd every Day,\nand every Age is grown wiser and wiser than their Fathers; so, no doubt,\nhe has bestirr'd himself too, in order to an encrease of Knowledge and\nDiscovery, and that he finds every Day a nearer Way to go to work with\nMankind than he had before.\nBesides, as Men in general seem to have alter'd their manner, and that\nthey move in a higher and more exalted Sphere, especially as to Vice and\nVirtue; so the _Devil_ may have been obliged to change his Measures, and\nalter his Way of working; particularly, those Things which would take in\nformer Times, and which a stupid Age would come easily into, won't go\ndown with us now: As the taste of Vice and Virtue alters, the _Devil_ is\nforc'd to bait his Hook with new Compositions; the very Thing call'd\nTemptation is alter'd in its Nature, and that which serv'd to delude our\nAncestors, whose gross Conceptions of Things caused them to be\nmanageable with less Art, will not do now; the Case is quite alter'd; in\nsome Things, perhaps, as I hinted above, we come into Crime with ease,\nand may be led by a Finger; but when we come to a more refin'd Way of\nsinning, which our Ancestors never understood, other and more refin'd\nPolitics must be made Use of, and the _Devil_ has been put upon many\nuseful Projects and Inventions, to make many new Discoveries and\nExperiments to carry on his Affairs; and to speak impartially, he is\nstrangely improv'd either in Knowledge or Experiment, within these few\nYears; he has found out a great many new Inventions to shorten his own\nLabour, and carry on his Business in the World currently, which he never\nwas master of before, or at least we never knew he was.\nNo wonder then that he has chang'd Hands too, and that he has left of\npawawing in these Parts of the World; that we don't find our Houses\ndisturb'd as they used to be, and the Stools and Chairs walking about\nout of one Room into another, as formerly; that Children don't vomit\ncrooked Pins and rusty stub Nails, as of old, the Air is not full of\nNoises, nor the Church-Yard full of Hobgoblins; Ghosts don't walk about\nin Winding-Sheets, and the good old scolding Wives visit and plague\ntheir Husbands after they are dead, as they did when they were alive.\nThe Age is grown too wise to be agitated by these dull scare-crow Things\nwhich their Fore-Fathers were tickled with; _Satan_ has been obliged to\nlay by his Puppet-shews and his Tumblers, those things are grown stale;\nhis morrice-dancing Devils, his mountebanking and quacking won't do now;\nthose Things, as they may be supposed to be very troublesome to him,\n(and but that he has Servants enough would be chargeable too) are now of\nno great Use in the new Management of his Affairs.\n_In a Word_, Men are too much Devils themselves, in the Sense that I\nhave call'd them so, to be frighted with such little low priz'd\nAppearances as these; they are better acquainted with the old\nArch-Angel than so, and they seem to tell him they must be treated after\nanother manner, and that then, as they are good-natur'd and tractable,\nhe may deal with them upon better Terms.\nHence the _Devil_ goes to work with Mankind a much shorter Way; for\ninstead of the Art of Wheedling and Whining, together with the laborious\nPart of Tricking and Sharping, Hurrying and Driving, Frighting and\nTerrifying, all which the _Devil_ was put to the Trouble of before; in\nshort, he acts the GRAND MANNER as the Architects call it (I don't know\nwhether our Free-Masons may understand the Word) and therefore I may\nhereafter explain it, as it is to be Diabolically as well as\nmathematically understood.\nAt present my meaning is, he acts with them immediately and personally\nby a magnificent Transformation, making them meer _Devils_ to\nthemselves, upon all needful Occasions, and _Devils_ to one another too,\nwhenever he (Satan), has Need of their Service.\nThis Way of embarking Mankind in the _Devil_'s particular Engagement, is\nreally very modern; and tho' the Devil himself may have been long\nacquainted with the Method, and as I have heard, began to practise it\ntowards the Close of the _Roman_ Empire, when Men began to act upon very\npolite Principles, and were capable of the most refin'd Wickedness, and\nafterwards with some Popes, who likewise were a kind of Church Devils,\nsuch as Satan himself could hardly expect to find in the World; yet I do\nnot find that he was ever able to bring it into Practice, at least, not\nso universally as he does now: But now the Case is alter'd, and Men\nbeing generally more expert in Wickedness than they were formerly; they\nsuffer the smaller Alteration of the Species, in being transmigrated;\nin a Word, they turn into _Devils_, with no trouble at all hardly,\neither to the _Devil_ or to themselves.\nThis Particular would want much the less Explanation, could I obtain a\nLicense from Sir _Hellebore Wormwood_, Bart. or from my Lord\n_Thwartover_, Baron of _Scoundrel Hall_ in the Kingdom of _Ireland_, to\nwrite the true History of their own Conduct; and how early, and above\nall, how easily they commenc'd _Devils_, without the least Impeachment\nof their Characters, as wise Men, and without any Diminution of that\nPart of their Denomination which establish'd them for Fools.\nHow many mad Fellows appear among us every Day in the critical Juncture\nof their Transmigration, just when they have so much of the Man left as\nto be known by their Names, and enough of the _Devil_ taken up to settle\ntheir Characters? This Easiness of the _Devil_'s access to these People,\nand the great Convenience it is to him in his general Business, is a\nProof to me that he has no more Occasion of Diviners, Magicians,\nSorcerers, and whatever else we please to call those People who were\nformerly so great with him; for what Occasion has he to employ _Devils_\nand Wizards to confound Mankind, when he is arriv'd to such a Perfection\nof Art as to bring Men, at least in these Parts of the World, to do it\nall themselves; upon this Account we do not find any of the old\nSorcerers and Diviners, Magicians or Witches appear among us; not that\nthe _Devil_ might not be as well able to employ such People as formerly,\nand qualify them for the Employment too, but that really there is no\nneed of them hereabout, the _Devil_ having a shorter Way, and Mankind\nbeing much more easily possess'd; not the old _Herd of Swine_ were\nsooner agitated, tho' there was full 2000 of them together; Nature has\nopen'd the Door, and the _Devil_ has egress and regress at Pleasure, so\nthat Witches and Diviners are quite out of the Question.\nNor let any Man be alarm'd at this Alteration, in the Case as it stands\nbetween Mankind and the _Devil_, and think the _Devil_ having gain'd so\nmuch Ground, may in time, by Encroachment, come to a general Possession\nof the whole Race, and so we should all come to be _Devils_ incarnate; I\nsay, let us not be alarm'd, for Satan does not get these Advantages by\nEncroachment, and by his infernal Power or Art, no not at all; but 'tis\nthe Man himself does it by his Indolence and Negligence on one Hand, and\nhis Complaisance to the _Devil_ on the other; and both Ways he, as it\nwere, opens the Door to him, beckons him with his very Hand to come in,\nand the Devil has nothing to do but enter and take Possession: Now if it\nbe so, and Man is so frank to him; you know the _Devil_ is no Fool not\nto take the Advantage when 'tis offer'd him, and therefore 'tis no\nwonder if the Consequences which I have been just now naming follow.\nBut let no Man be discourag'd by this, from reaffirming his natural and\nreligious Powers, and venturing to shut the _Devil_ out; for the Case is\nplain he may be shut out; the Soul is a strong Castle, and has a good\nGarrison plac'd within to defend it; if the Garrison behave well, and do\ntheir Duty, it is impregnable, and the cowardly _Devil_ must raise his\nSiege and be gone; nay, he must fly, or, as we call it, make his Escape,\nlest he be laid by the Heels, that is, lest his Weakness be exposed, and\nall his Lurking, lying in Wait, ambuscade-Tricks; this Part would bear a\ngreat Enlargement, but I have not room to be witty upon him, so you must\ntake it in the Gross, the DEVIL lies at _Blye Bush_, as our Country\nPeople call it, to watch your coming out of your Hold; and if you happen\nto go abroad unarm'd he seizes upon and masters you with ease.\nUnarm'd, you'll say, what Arms should I take? what Fence against a\nFlail? What Weapons can a Man take to fight the _Devil_? I could tell\nyou what to fight him with, and what you might fright him with, for the\n_Devil_ is to be frighted with several Things besides _Holy Water_; but\n'tis too serious for you, and you'll tell me I am a preaching and a\ncanting, and the like; so I must let the _Devil_ manage you rather than\ndisplease you with talking Scripture and Religion.\nWell, but may not the _Devil_ be fought with some of his own Weapons? Is\nthere no dealing with him in a Way of human Nature? This would require a\nlong answer, and some Philosophy might be acted, or at least imitated,\nand some Magic, perhaps; for they tells us there are Spells to draw away\neven the Devil himself; as in some Places they nail Horse-Shoes upon the\nThreshold of the Door, to keep him out; in other Places old pieces of\nFlint, with so many Holes and so many Corners, and the like: But I must\nanswer in the Negative, I don't know what _Satan_ might be scar'd at in\nthose Days, but he is either grown cunninger since or bolder, for he\nvalues none of those Things now; I question much whether he would value\nSt. _Dunstan_ and his red hot Tongs, if he was to meet him now, or St.\n_Francis_ or any of the Saints, no not the Host itself in full\nProcession; and therefore, tho' you don't care I should preach, yet in\nshort, if you are afraid he should charge upon you and attack you, if\nyou won't make Use of those Scripture Weapons I should have mention'd,\nand which you may hear of, if you enquire at _Eph._ vi. 16. you must\nlook for better where you think you can find them.\nBut to go on with my Work, the Devil, I say, is not to be fear'd with\nMaukins, nor does he employ his old Instruments, but does much of his\nWork himself without Instruments.\nAnd yet I must enter a Caveat here too, against being misunderstood in\nmy saying the Devil stands in no need of Agents; for when I speak so, I\nam to be taken in a limited Sense; I don't say he needs them no where,\nbut only that he does not need them in those polite Parts of the World\nwhich I have been speaking of, and perhaps not much here; but in many\nremote Countries 'tis otherwise still; the _Indians_ of _America_ are\nparticularly said to have Witches among them, as well in those Countries\nwhere the _Spaniards_ and the _English_ and other Nations have planted\nthemselves, as amongst those where the _European_ Nations seldom come:\n_for Example_, the People of _Canada_, that is, of the Countries under\nthe _French_ Government of _Quebeck_, the Equimeaux, and other Northern\nClimates, have Magicians, Wizards and Witches, who they call _Pilloatas_\nor _Pillotoas_; these pretend they speak intimately and familiarly with\nthe Devil, and receive from him the Knowledge of Things to come; all\nwhich, by the Way, I take to be little more than this; that these\nFellows being a little more cunning than the rest, think, that by\npretending to something more than human, they shall make the stronger\nImpressions on the ignorant People; as _Mahomet_ amus'd the World with\nhis Pigeon, using it to pick Peas out of his Ear, and persuaded the\nPeople it brought him superior Revelations and Inspirations from\nParadise.\nThus these _Pillotoas_ gaining an Opinion among the People, behave like\nso many Mountebanks of Hell, pretending to understand dark Things, cure\nDiseases, practise Surgery, Physick and Necromancy altogether; I will\nnot say, but _Satan_ may pick out such Tools to work with, and I believe\ndoes in those Parts, but I think he has found a nearer Way to the Wood\nwith us, and that is sufficient to my present Purpose.\nSome would persuade me the _Devil_ had a great Hand in the late\nreligious Breaches in _France_, among the Clergy, (_viz._) about the\nPope's Constitution _Unigenitus_, and that he made a fair Attempt to set\nthe Pope and the _Gallican_ Church together by the Ears, for they were\nall just upon the Point or breaking out into a Church War, that for\nought we knew might have gone farther than the _Devil_ himself car'd it\nshould; now I am of the quite contrary Opinion, I believe the _Devil_\nreally did not make the Breach, but rather heal'd it, for fear it should\nhave gone so far among them as to have set them all in a Flame, and have\nopen'd the Door to the Return of the _Hugonots_ again, which it was in a\nfair Way to have done.\nBut be it one Way or t'other, the historical Part seems to be a little\nagainst me; for 'tis certain, the _Devil_ both wanted and made Use of\nLegions of Agents, as well human as infernal, visible and invisible in\nthat great and important Affair, and we cannot doubt but he has\ninnumerable Instruments still at work about it.\nLike as in _Poland_, I make no Question but the _Devil_ has thousands of\nhis Banditti at work at this Time, and in another Country not far from\nit, perhaps, preparing Matters for the next General Diet, taking care to\nprevent giving any Relaxation to the Protestants, and to justify the\nmoderate Executions at _Thorn_, to excite a Nation to quarrel with every\nBody who are able to fight with no body; to erect the Apostate Race of\n_S----y_ upon a Throne which they have no Title to, and turn an elective\nThrone into an hereditary, in favour of Popery.\nI might anticipate all your Objections, by granting the busy _Devil_ at\nthis Time employing all his Agents and Instruments (for I never told you\nthey were idle and useless) in striving to enflame the Christian World,\nand bring a new War to overspread _Europe_; I might, perhaps, point out\nto you some of the Measures he takes, the Provocatives which his State\nPhysicians administer to the Courts and Counsellors of Princes, to\nfoment and ferment the Spirits, and Members of Nations, Kingdoms,\nEmpires and States in the World, in order to bring these glorious Ends\nof Blood and War to pass; for you cannot think but he that knows so much\nof the _Devil_'s Affairs, as to write his History, must know something\nof all these Matters more than those that do not know so much as he.\nBut all this is remote to the present Case, for this is no Impeachment\nof Satan's new Methods with Mankind, in this Part of the World, and in\nhis private and separate Capacity; all this only signifies that in his\nmore general and national Affairs, the _Devil_ acts still by his old\nMethods; and when he is to seduce or embroil Nations, he, like other\nConquerors, subdues them by Armies, employs mighty Squadrons of\n_Devils_, and sends out strong Detachments, with Generals and\nGeneralissimos to lead them, some to one Part of the World, some to\nanother; some to influence one Nation, some to manage and direct\nanother, according as Business presents, and his Occasions require, that\nhis Affairs may be carried on currently, and to his Satisfaction.\nIf it were not thus, but that the _Devil_ by his new and exquisite\nManagement, of which I have said so much, had brought Mankind in general\nto be the Agents of their own Mischiefs, and that the World were so at\nhis Beck, that he need but command them to go and fight, declare War,\nraise Armies, destroy Cities, Kingdoms, Countries and People; the World\nwould be a Field of Blood indeed, and all Things would run into\nConfusion presently.\nBut this is not the Case at all, Heaven has not let go the Government of\nthe Creation to his subdu'd Enemy, the Devil; that would overturn the\nwhole System of God, and give Satan more Power, than ever he was or will\nbe vested with; when, therefore, I speak of a few forward Wretches in\nour Day, who are so warm in their Wickedness, that they anticipate the\nDevil, save him the Trouble to tempt, turn Devils to themselves, and\ngallop Hellward faster than he drives; I speak of them as single\nPersons, and acting in their own personal and private Capacity, but when\nI speak of Nations and Kingdoms, there the Devil is oblig'd to go on in\nthe old Road, and act by Stratagem, by his proper Machinery, and to make\nuse of all his Arts, and all his Agents, just as he has done in all\nAges, from the beginning of his politic Government to this Day.\nAnd if it was not thus too, what would become of all his numberless\nLegions, of which all Ages have heard so much, and all Parts of the\nWorld have had so much fatal Experience? They would seem to be quite out\nof Employment, and be render'd useless in the World of Spirits, where it\nis to be supposed they reside; not the Devil himself could find any\nBusiness for them, which by the Way, to busy and mischievous Spirits, as\nthey are, would be a Hell to them, even before their Time; they would\nbe, as it were, doom'd to a State of Inactivity, which we may suppose\nwas one Part of their Expulsion from Blessedness and the Creation of\nMan; or as they were for the surprising Interval between the Destruction\nof Mankind by the Deluge and _Noah_'s coming out of the Ark, when\nindeed they might be said to have nothing at all to do.\nBut this is not Satan's Case, and therefore let me tell you too, that\nyou may not think I treat the Case with more Levity than I really do,\nand than I am sure I intend to do; tho' it is too true that our modern\nand modish Sinners have arrived to more exquisite Ways of being wicked,\nthan their Fathers, and really seem, as I have said, to need no Devil to\ntempt them; nay, that they do Satan's Work for him as to others also,\nand make themselves Devils to their Neighbours, tempting others to crime\neven faster than the Devil desires them, running before they are sent,\nand going of the _Devil_'s Errands _gratis_; by which Means Satan's Work\nis, as to them, done to his Hand, and they may be said to save him a\ngreat deal of Trouble; yet after all, the Devil has still a great deal\nof Business upon his Hands, and as well himself as all his Legions, find\nthemselves a full Employment in disturbing the World, and opposing the\nGlory and Kingdom of their great Superior, whose Kingdom it is their\nwhole Business, however vain in its End, to overthrow and destroy, if\nthey were able, or at least to endeavour it.\nThis being the Case, it follows of course that the general Mischiefs of\nMankind, as well national and public, as family Mischiefs, and even\npersonal, (except as before excepted) lie all still at the _Devil_'s\nDoor, as much as ever, let his Advocates bring him off of it if they\ncan; and this brings us back again to the manner of the Devil's\nManagement, and the Way of his working by human Agents, or if you will,\nthe Way of human Devils, working in Affairs of low Life, such as we call\nDivination, Sorcery, Black-Art, Necromancy, and the like; all which I\ntake to consist of two material Parts, and both very necessary for us to\nbe rightly inform'd of.\n     1. The Part which Satan by himself or his inferior _Devils_\n     empowers such People to do, as he is in Confederacy with here on\n     Earth; to whom he may be said, like the Master of an Opera or\n     Comedy, to give their Parts to act, and to qualify them to act it;\n     whether he obliges them to a Rehearsal in his Presence, to try\n     their Talents, and see that they are capable of performing, that\n     indeed I have not enquir'd into.\n     2. That Part which these empower'd People do voluntier or beyond\n     their Commission, to shew their Diligence in the Service of their\n     new Master, and either (1.) to bring Grist to their own Mill, and\n     make their Market of their Employment in the best manner they can;\n     or (2.) to gain Applause, be admir'd, wonder'd at, and applauded,\n     as if they were ten Times more _Devils_ than really they are.\nIn a Word, the Matter consists of what the _Devil_ does by the Help of\nthese People, and what they do in his Name without him; the Devil is\nsometimes cheated in his own Business; there are Pretenders to\nWitchcraft and Black-Art, who Satan never made any Bargain with, but who\nhe connives at, because at least they do his Cause no harm, tho' their\nBusiness is rather to get Money, than to render him any Service, of\nwhich I gave you a remarkable Instance before.\nBut to go back to his real Agents, of which I reckon two.\n     1. Those who act by Direction and Confederacy, as I have said\n     already many do.\n     2. Those whom he acts in and by, and they (perhaps) know it not, of\n     which Sort History gives us plenty of Examples, from _Machiavel_'s\n     first Disciple ---- to the famous Cardinal _Alberoni_, and even to\n     some more modern than his Eminence, of whom I can say no more till\n     farther Occasion offers.\n1. Those who act by immediate Direction of the Devil, and in Confederacy\nwith him; these are such as I mention'd in the beginning of this\nChapter, whose Arts are truly black, because really infernal; it will be\nvery hard to decide the Dispute between those who really act thus in\nConfederacy with the _Devil_, and those who only pretend to it; so I\nshall leave that Dispute where I find it; but that there are, or at\nleast have been, a Set of People in the World, who really are of his\nAcquaintance, and very intimate with him; and tho', as I have said, he\nhas much alter'd his Schemes and chang'd Hands of late; yet that there\nare such People, perhaps of all Sorts; and that the Devil keeps up his\nCorrespondence with them; I must not venture to deny that Part, lest I\nbring upon me the whole Posse of the conjuring and bewitching Crew, Male\nand Female, and they should mob me for pretending to deny them the\nHonour of dealing with the _Devil_, which they are so exceeding willing\nto have the Fame of.\nNot that I am hereby oblig'd to believe all the strange Things the\nWitches and Wizards, who have been allow'd to be such, nay, who have\nbeen hang'd for it, have said of themselves; nay, that they have\nconfess'd of themselves, even at the Gallows; and if I come to have an\nOccasion to speak freely of the Matter, I may perhaps convince you that\nthe Devil's possessing Power is much lessen'd of late, and that he\neither is limited, and his Fetter shortened more than it has been, or\nthat he does not find the old Way (as I said before) so fit for his\nPurpose as he did formerly, and therefore takes other Measures, but I\nmust adjourn that to a Time and Place by itself: But we are told that\nthere are another Sort of People, and, perhaps, a great many of them\ntoo, in whom and by whom the Devil really acts, and they know it not.\nIt would take up a great deal of Time and Room, too much for this Place,\nso near the Close of this Work, to describe and mark out the involuntary\n_Devils_ which there are in the World; of whom it may be truly said,\nthat really the _Devil_ is in them, and they know it not: Now, tho' the\n_Devil_ is cunning and managing, and can be very silent where he finds\nit for his Interest not to be known; yet it is very hard for him to\nconceal himself, and to give so little Disturbance in the House, as that\nthe Family should not know who lodged in it; yet, I say, the Devil is so\nsubtle and so mischievous an Agent, that he uses all manner of Methods\nand Craft to reside in such People as he finds for his Purpose, whether\nthey will or no, and which is more, whether they know it or no.\nAnd let none of my Readers be angry or think themselves ill used, when I\ntell them the Devil may be in them, and may act them, and by them, and\nthey not know it; for I must add, it may, perhaps, be one of the\ngreatest Pieces of human Wisdom in the World, for a Man to know when the\nDevil is in him, and when not; when he is a Tool and Agent of Hell, and\nwhen he is not; in a Word, when he is doing the Devil's Work, and under\nhis Direction, and when not.\nIt is true, this is a very weighty Point, and might deserve to be\nhandled in a more serious Way than I seem to be talking in all this\nBook; but give me leave to talk of Things my own way, and withall, to\ntell you, that there is no Part of this Work so seemingly ludicrous, but\na grave and well weigh'd Mind may make a serious and solid Application\nof it, if they please; nor is there any Part of this Work, in which a\nclear Sight and a good Sense may not see that the Author's Design is,\nthat they should do so; and as I am now so near the End of my Book, I\nthought it was meet to tell you so, and lead you to it as far as I can.\nI say, 'tis a great Part of human Wisdom to know when the _Devil_ is\nacting in us and by us, and when not; the next and still greatest Part\nwould be to prevent him, put a Stop to his Progress, bid him go about\nhis Business, and let him know he should carry on his Designs no farther\nin that manner; that we will be his Tools no longer; in short, to turn\nhim out of Doors, and bring a stronger Power to take Possession; but\nthis, indeed, is too solid a Subject, and too great to begin with here.\nBut now, as to the bare knowing when he is at work with us, I say this,\ntho' it is considerable, may be done, nor is it so very difficult; _for\nExample_, you have no more to do but look a little into the Microcosm of\nthe Soul, and see there how the Passions which are the Blood, and the\nAffections which are the Spirit, move in their particular Vessels; how\nthey circulate, and in what Temper the Pulse beats there, and you may\neasily see who turns the Wheel; if a perfect Calm possesses the Soul; if\nPeace and Temper prevail, and the Mind feels no Tempests rising; if the\nAffections are regular and exalted to vertuous and sublime Objects, the\nSpirits cool, and the Mind sedate, the Man is in a general Rectitude of\nMind, he may be truly said to be _his own Man_; Heaven shines upon his\nSoul with its benign Influences, and he is out of the Reach of the evil\nSpirit; for the divine Spirit is an Influence of Peace, all calm and\nbright, happy and sweet like it self, and tending to every Thing that is\ngood both present and future.\nBut on the other Hand, if at any Time the Mind is ruffled, if Vapours\nrise, Clouds gather, if Passions swell the Breast, if Anger, Envy,\nRevenge, Hatred, Wrath, Strife; if these, or any of these hover over\nyou, much more if you feel them within you; if the Affections are\npossess'd, and the Soul hurried down the Stream to embrace low and base\nObjects; if those Spirits, which are the Life and enlivening Powers of\nthe Soul, are drawn off to Parties, and to be engag'd in a vicious and\ncorrupt manner, shooting out wild and wicked Desires, and running the\nMan headlong into Crime, the Case is easily resolv'd, the Man is\npossess'd, the _Devil_ is in him; and having taken the Fort, or at least\nthe Counterscarp and Out-Works, is making his Lodgment to cover and\nsecure himself in his Hold, that he may not be dispossess'd.\nNor can he be easily dispossess'd when he has got such hold as this; and\n'tis no wonder, that being lodg'd thus upon the Out-Works of the Soul he\ncontinues to sap the Foundation of the rest, and by his incessant and\nfurious Assaults, reduces the Man at last to a Surrender.\nIf the Allegory be not as just and apposite as you would have it be, you\nmay, however, see by it in a full View, the State of the Man, and how\nthe _Devil_ carries on his Designs; nothing is more common, and I\nbelieve there are few thinking Minds but may reflect upon it in their\nown Compass, than for our Passions and Affections to flow out of the\nordinary Channel; the Spirits and Blood of the Soul to be extravasated,\nthe Passions grow violent and outragious, the Affections impetuous,\ncorrupt and violently vicious: Whence does all this proceed? from Heaven\nwe can't pretend it comes; if we must not say 'tis the _Devil_, whose\nDoor must it lie at? Pride swells the Passions; Avarice moves the\nAffections; and what is Pride, and what is Avarice, but the _Devil_ in\nthe Inside of the Man? ay, as personally and really as ever he was in\nthe Herd of Swine.\nLet not any Man then, who is a Slave to his Passions, or who is chain'd\ndown to his Covetousness, pretend to take it ill, when I say he has the\n_Devil_ in him, or that he is a _Devil_: What else can it be, and how\ncomes it to pass that Passion and Revenge so often dispossess the Man of\nhimself, as to lead him to commit Murther, to lay Plots and Snares for\nthe Life of his Enemies, and so to thirst for Blood? How comes this but\nby the Devil's putting those Spirits of the Soul into so violent a\nFerment, into a Fever? that the Circulation is precipitated to that\nDegree, and that the Man too is precipitated into Mischief, and at last\ninto Ruin; 'tis all the _Devil_, tho' the Man does not know it.\nIn like manner Avarice leads him to rob, plunder and destroy for Money,\nand to commit sometimes the worst of Violences to obtain the wicked\nReward. How many have had their Throats cut for their Money, have been\nmurther'd on the Highway, or in their Beds, for the Desire of what they\nhad? It is the same Thing in other Articles, every Vice is the Devil in\na Man; Lust of Rule is the _Devil_ of great Men, and that Ambition is\ntheir _Devil_ as much as whoring is Father ------'s _Devil_, one has a\n_Devil_ of one Class acting him, one another, and every Man's reigning\nVice is a _Devil_ to him.\nThus the _Devil_ has his involuntary Instruments, as well as those who\nact in Confederacy with him; he has a very great Share in many of us,\nand acts us, and in us, unknown to our selves tho' we know nothing of\nit, and indeed tho' we may not suspect it of our selves; like _Hazael_\nthe _Assyrian_, who when the Prophet told him how he would act the\n_Devil_ upon the poor _Israelites_, answer'd with Detestation, _is thy\nServant a Dog that he should do this Thing_, and yet he was that Dog,\nand did all those cruel Things for all that; the _Devil_ acting him, or\nacting in him, to make him wickeder than ever he thought it was possible\nfor him to be.\nThe CONCLUSION.\n_Of the_ Devil_'s last Scene of Liberty, and what may be supposed to be\n     his End, with what we are to understand of his being tormented for\n     ever and ever._\nAs the _Devil_ is a Prince of the Power of the Air, his Kingdom is\nmortal, and must have an End; and as he is call'd the God of this World,\nthat is, the great Usurper of the Homage and Reverence which Mankind\nought of right to pay to their Maker, so his Usurpation also, like the\nWorld it self, must have an End: Satan is call'd the God of the World,\nas Men too much prostrate and prostitute themselves to him, yet he is\nnot the Governor of this World; and therefore the Homage and Worship he\nhas from the World is an Usurpation; and this will have an End, because\nthe World it self will have an End; and all Mankind, as they had a\nbeginning in Time, so must expire and be remov'd before the End of Time.\nSince then the _Devil_'s Empire is to expire and come to an End, and\nthat the _Devil_ himself and all his Host of _Devils_ are immortal\nSeraphs, Spirits that are not embodied and cannot die, but are to remain\nin being; the Question before us next will be, what is to become of him?\nwhat is his State to be? whether is he to wander, and in what Condition\nis he to remain to that Eternity to which he is still to exist?\nI hope no Man will mistake me so much in what I have said as to Spirits,\nwhich are all Flame, not being affected with Fire, as if I supposed\nthere was no Place of Punishment for the _Devil_, nor any Kind of\nPunishment that could affect them; and so of our Spirits also when\ntransform'd into Flame.\nI must be allow'd to speak there of that material Fire, by which, as by\nan Allegory, all the Terrors of an eternal State are represented to us\nin Scripture, and in the Writings of the learned Commentators, and by\nwhich the Pain of Sense is describ'd; this, perhaps, I do not understand\nas they seem to do, and therefore have said,\nWhen we're all Flame (that is all Spirit) we shall all Fire (that is,\nall such Fire as this) despise. And thus I claim to be understood.\nIt does not follow from hence, neither do I suggest, or so much as think\nthat infinite Power cannot form a something (tho' inconceivable to us\nhere) which shall be as tormenting, and as insupportable to a Devil, an\napostate Seraph, and to a Spirit, tho' exalted, unembodied and rarified\ninto _Flame_, as Fire would be to other Bodies; in which I think I am\northodox, and do not give the least Occasion to an Enemy to charge me\nwith profane Speaking, in those Words, or to plead for thinking\nprophanely himself.\nIt must be Atheistical to the last Degree to suggest, that whereas the\n_Devil_ has been heaping up and amassing Guilt ever since the Creation\nof Man, encreasing in hatred of God and Rebellion against him, and in\nall possible endeavour to dethrone and depose the Majesty of Heaven;\nthat yet Heaven had not prepar'd, or could not prepare a just Penalty\nfor him; and that it should not all end in God's entire Victory over\nHell, and in Satan's open Condemnation: Heaven could not be just to its\nown Glory, if he should not avenge himself upon this Rebel, for all his\nsuperlative Wickedness in his modern as well as ancient Station; for the\nBlood of so many millions of his faithful Subjects and Saints whom he\nhas destroy'd; and if nothing else offer'd it self to prove this Part,\nit would appear undoubted to me; but this, I confess, does not belong to\nSatan's History, and therefore I have reserv'd it to this Place, and\nshall also be the shorter in it.\nThat his Condition is to be a State of Punishment, and that by Torment,\nthe _Devil_ himself has own'd, and his calling out to our blessed Lord\nwhen he cast him out of the furious Man among the Tombs, is a Proof of\nit, _What have we to do with thee_, and _art thou come to torment us\nbefore the Time?_ Luke viii. 28. where the _Devil_ acknowledges four\nThings, and three of them are directly to my present Purpose, and if you\nwon't believe the Word of God, I hope you will believe the _Devil_,\nespecially when 'tis an open Confession against himself.\n1. He confess Christ to be the _Son of God_ (that by the Way) and _no\nThanks to him_, for that does not want the _Devil_'s Evidence.\n2. He acknowledges he may be tormented.\n3. He acknowledges Christ was able to torment him.\n4. He acknowledges that there is a Time appointed when he shall be\ntormented.\nAs to _how_, in _what Manner_, and by _what Means_, this tormenting the\nDevil is to be performed or executed, that I take to be as needless to\nus as 'tis impossible to know, and being not at present inclined to fill\nyour Heads and Thoughts with weak and imperfect Guesses, I leave it\nwhere I find it.\nIt is enough to us that this Torment of the _Devil_ is represented to us\nby Fire, it being impossible for our confin'd Thoughts to conceive of\nTorment by any Thing in the World more exquisite; whence I conclude,\nthat _Devils_ shall at last receive a Punishment suitable to their\nSpirituous Nature, and as exquisitely Tormenting as a burning Fire would\nbe to our Bodies.\nHaving thus settl'd my own Belief of this Matter, and stated it so, as I\nthink will let you see 'tis rightly sounded, the Matter stands thus.\nSatan having been let loose to play his Game in this World, has improv'd\nhis Time to the utmost; he has not fail'd on all Occasions to exert his\nHatred, Rage, and Malice at his Conqueror and Enemy, _namely, his\nMaker_; he has nor fail'd, from Principles of meer Envy and Pride, to\npursue Mankind with all possible Rancour, in order to deprive him of the\nHonour and Felicity which he was created for, namely, to succeed the\n_Devil_ and his Angels in the State of Glory from which they fell.\nThis Hatred of God and Envy at Man, having broken out in so many several\nWays in the whole Series of Time from the Creation, must necessarily\nhave greatly encreased his Guilt; and as Heaven is righteous to judge\nhim, must terminate in an encrease of Punishment, adequate to his Crime,\nand sufficient to his Nature.\nSome have suggested, that there is yet a Time to come, when the _Devil_\nshall exert more Rage, and do more Mischief than ever yet he has been\npermitted to do; whether he shall break his Chain, or be unchain'd for a\nTime, they cannot tell, nor I neither; and 'tis happy for my Work, that\neven this Part too does not belong to his History; if ever it shall be\ngiven an Account of by Mankind, it must be after it is come to pass, for\nmy Part is not Prophesy of foretelling what the Devil shall do, but\nHistory of what he has done.\nThus, good People, I have brought the History of the Devil down to _your\nown Times_; I have, as it were, _rais'd him_ for you, and set him in\nyour View, that you may know him and have a Care of him.\nIf any cunninger Men among you think they are able now to _lay him_\nagain, and so dispose of him out of your Sight, that you shall be\ntroubled no more with him, either here or hereafter, let them go to work\nwith him their own Way; you know Things future do not belong to an\nHistorian, so I leave him among you, wishing you may be able to give no\nworse an Account of him for the Time to come, than I have done for the\nTime past.\nFINIS.\nFootnotes:\n[1] N. B. He never refus'd setting his hand to any opinion, which he\nthought it for his interest to acknowledge.\n[2] Mean't of nothing.\n[3] _Mr._ Pool's _words are these_: Some refer the words, _This day have\nI begotten thee_, to the incarnation of the Son of GOD, others to the\nResurrection: our Translators lay the stress on the preposition of which\nthe verb is compounded, and by adding _again_, (viz.) _rais'd up Jesus\nagain_, Acts xiii. 33. intend it to be understood of the Resurrection;\nand there is ground for it, in the context, for the Resurrection of\nChrist, is that which St. _Paul_ had propounded in v. 30. of the same\nChapter, as his theme or argument to preach upon.\nNot that Christ at his Resurrection began to be the Son of God, but that\nhe was manifested then to be so.\n[4] Satan.\n[5] The meaning of the word Devil is Destroyer. See _Pool_ upon _Acts_\nxiii. 10.\n[6] _As great as the Devil and Doctor_ Faustus. Vulg. Dr. _Foster_.\nTranscriber's Notes:\nPassages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.\nAdditional spacing after some of the quotes is intentional to indicate\nboth the end of a quotation and the beginning of a new paragraph as\npresented in the original text.\nLong \"s\" has been modernized.\nThe original text includes Greek characters. For this text version these\nletters have been replaced with transliterations.\nThe text includes two instances of unmatched round brackets; as these\nrequire interpretation to close, they have been left unmatched.\nThe following misprints have been corrected:\n  \"Origiual\" corrected to \"Original\" (Table of Contents)\n  \"34\" corrected to \"31\" (Table of Contents)\n  \"259\" corrected to \"159\" (Table of Contents)\n  extraneous \"a\" removed (page 1)\n  \"blinding\" corrected to \"binding\" (page 9)\n  \"decrib'd\" corrected to \"describ'd\" (page 57)\n  \"Battels\" corrected to \"Battles\" (page 76)\n  \"inconcievable\" corrected to \"inconceivable\" (page 91)\n  \"Devils\" corrected to \"Devil's\" (page 101)\n  \"hut\" corrected to \"but\" (page 120)\n  \"that that\" corrected to \"that\" (page 127)\n  \"opposs'd\" corrected to \"oppos'd\" (page 152)\n  \"notwitstanding\" corrected to \"notwithstanding\" (page 162)\n  \"a as Body\" corrected to \"as a Body\" (page 172)\n  \"Peoples\" corrected to \"People's\" (page 184)\n  \"Asia\" corrected to \"Asa\" (page 187)\n  \"was\" corrected to \"saw\" (page 213)\n  \"faling\" corrected to \"falling\" (page 229)\n  \"Christain\" corrected to \"Christian\" (page 230)\n  \"what's is\" corrected to \"what is\" (page 233)\n  \"disapointed\" corrected to \"disappointed\" (page 234)\n  \"been\" corrected to \"seen\" (page 235)\n  \"momentons\" corrected to \"momentous\" (page 244)\n  \"Chritians\" corrected to \"Christians\" (page 250)\n  \"Egyytian\" corrected to \"Egyptian\" (page 252)\n  \"Magnifience\" corrected to \"Magnificence\" (page 256)\n  \"whereever\" corrected to \"wherever\" (page 267)\n  \"compliasant\" corrected to \"complaisant\" (page 294)\n  \"coul'd\" corrected to \"cou'd\" (page 298)\n  \"Acquiantance\" corrected to \"Acquaintance\" (page 299)\n  \"Oportunity\" corrected to \"Opportunity\" (page 300)\n  \"har'd\" corrected to \"hard\" (page 301)\n  \"distingush\" corrected to \"distinguish\" (page 312)\n  \"whereever\" corrected to \"wherever\" (page 322)\n  \"the the\" corrected to \"the\" (page 330)\n  \"CHAP. VII\" corrected to \"CHAP. IX\" (page 339)\n  \"Businses\" corrected to \"Business\" (page 370)\nOther than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in\nspelling, punctuation, and hyphenation usage have been retained.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The History of the Devil, by Daniel Defoe", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The History of the Devil, As Well Ancient as Modern"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Internet Archive; University of Florida, Charlie Kirschner\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\nTHE\nLIFE AND ADVENTURES\nOF\nROBINSON CRUSOE,\nOF YORK, MARINER.\nWITH AN ACCOUNT OF\nHIS TRAVELS ROUND THREE PARTS OF THE GLOBE.\n_WRITTEN BY HIMSELF_.\nIN TWO VOLUMES.\nVOL.I.\nBY C. WHITTINGHAM;\nFOR J. CARPENTER, OLD BOND STREET; J. BOOKER, NEW BOND\nSTREET; SHARPS AND HAILES, MUSEUM, PICCADILLY; AND\nGALE, CURTIS, AND FENNER, PATERNOSTER ROW; LONDON.\nTHE LIFE OF\n_DANIEL DE FOE_.\nDaniel De Foe was descended from a respectable family in the county of\nNorthampton, and born in London, about the year 1663. His father, James\nFoe, was a butcher, in the parish of St. Giles's, Cripplegate, and a\nprotestant dissenter. Why the subject of this memoir prefixed the _De_\nto his family name cannot now be ascertained, nor did he at any period\nof his life think it necessary to give his reasons to the public. The\npolitical scribblers of the day, however, thought proper to remedy this\nlack of information, and accused him of possessing so little of the\n_amor patriae_, as to make the addition in order that he might not be\ntaken for an Englishman; though this idea could have had no other\nfoundation than the circumstance of his having, in consequence of his\nzeal for King William, attacked the prejudices of his countrymen in his\n\"Trueborn Englishman.\"\nAfter receiving a good education at an academy at Newington, young De\nFoe, before he had attained his twenty-first year, commenced his career\nas an author, by writing a pamphlet against a very prevailing sentiment\nin favour of the Turks, who were at that time laying siege to Vienna.\nThis production, being very inferior to those of his maturer years, was\nvery little read, and the indignant author, despairing of success with\nhis pen, had recourse to the sword; or, as he termed it, when boasting\nof the exploit in his latter years, \"displayed his attachment to liberty\nand protestanism,\" by joining the ill-advised insurrection under the\nDuke of Monmouth, in the west. On the failure of that unfortunate\nenterprise, he returned again to the metropolis; and it is not\nimprobable, but that the circumstance of his being a native of London,\nand his person not much known in that part of the kingdom where the\nrebellion took place, might facilitate his escape, and be the means of\npreventing his being brought to trial for his share in the transaction.\nWith the professions of a writer and a soldier, Mr. De Foe, in the year\n1685, joined that of a trader; he was first engaged as a hosier, in\nCornhill, and afterwards as a maker of bricks and pantiles, near Tilbury\nFort, in Essex; but in consequence of spending those hours in the\nhilarity of the tavern which he ought to have employed in the\ncalculations of the counting-house, his commercial schemes proved\nunsuccessful; and in 1694 he was obliged to abscond from his creditors,\nnot failing to attribute those misfortunes to the war and the severity\nof the times, which were doubtless owing to his own misconduct. It is\nmuch to his credit, however, that after having been freed from his debts\nby composition, and being in prosperous circumstances from King\nWilliam's favour, he voluntarily paid most of his creditors both the\nprincipal and interest of their claims. This is such an example of\nhonesty as it would be unjust to De Foe and to the world to conceal. The\namount of the sums thus paid must have been very considerable, as he\nafterwards feelingly mentions to Lord Haversham, who had reproached him\nwith covetousness; \"With a numerous family, and no helps but my own\nindustry, I have forced my way through a sea of misfortunes, and reduced\nmy debts, exclusive of composition, from seventeen thousand to less than\nfive thousand pounds.\"\nAt the beginning of the year 1700, Mr. De Foe published a satire in\nverse, which excited very considerable attention, called the \"Trueborn\nEnglishman.\" Its purpose was to furnish a reply to those who were\ncontinually abusing King William and some of his friends as\n_foreigners_, by showing that the present race of Englishmen was a mixed\nand heterogeneous brood, scarcely any of which could lay claim to native\npurity of blood. The satire was in many parts very severe; and though it\ngave high offence, it claimed a considerable share of the public\nattention. The reader will perhaps be gratified by a specimen of this\nproduction, wherein he endeavours to account for--\n     \"What makes this discontented land appear\n     Less happy now in times of peace, than war;\n     Why civil fends disturb the nation more,\n     Than all our bloody wars had done before:\n     Fools out of favour grudge at knaves in place,\n     And men are always honest in disgrace:\n     The court preferments make men knaves in course,\n     But they, who would be in them, would be worse.\n     'Tis not at foreigners that we repine,\n     Would foreigners their perquisites resign:\n     The grand contention's plainly to be seen,\n     To get some men put out, and some put in.\"\nIt will be immediately perceived that De Foe could have no pretensions\nto the character of a _poet_; but he has, notwithstanding, some nervous\nand well-versified lines, and in choice of subject and moral he is in\ngeneral excellent. The Trueborn Englishman concludes thus:\n     Could but our ancestors retrieve their fate,\n     And see their offspring thus degenerate;\n     How we contend for birth and names unknown,\n     And build on their past actions, not our own;\n     They'd cancel records, and their tombs deface,\n     And openly disown the vile degenerate race.\n     For fame of families is all a cheat;\n     'TIS PERSONAL VIRTUE ONLY MAKES US GREAT.\nFor this defence of foreigners De Foe was amply rewarded by King\nWilliam, who not only ordered him a pension, but, as his opponents\ndenominated it, appointed him _pamphlet-writer general to the court_; an\noffice for which he was peculiarly well calculated, possessing, with a\nstrong mind and a ready wit, that kind of yielding conscience which\nallowed him to support the measures of his benefactors, though convinced\nthey were injurious to his country. De Foe now retired to Newington with\nhis family, and for a short time lived at ease; but the death of his\nroyal patron deprived him of a generous protector, and opened a scene of\nsorrow which probably embittered his future life.\nHe had always discovered a great inclination to engage in religious\ncontroversy, and the furious contest, civil and ecclesiastical, which\nensued on the accession of Queen Anne, gave him an opportunity of\ngratifying his favourite passion. He therefore published a tract,\nentitled \"The shortest Way with the Dissenters, or Proposals for the\nEstablishment of the Church,\" which contained an ironical recommendation\nof persecution, but written in so serious a strain, that many persons,\nparticularly Dissenters, at first mistook its real intention. The high\nchurch party however saw, and felt the ridicule, and, by their\ninfluence, a prosecution was commenced against him, and a proclamation\npublished in the Gazette, offering a reward for his apprehension[1].\nWhen De Foe found with how much rigour himself and his pamphlet were\nabout to be treated, he at first secreted himself; but his printer and\nbookseller being taken into custody, he surrendered, being resolved, as\nhe expresses it, \"to throw himself upon the favour of government, rather\nthan that others should be ruined for his mistakes.\" In July, 1703, he\nwas brought to trial, found guilty, and sentenced to be imprisoned, to\nstand in the pillory, and to pay a fine of two hundred marks. He\nunderwent the infamous part of the punishment with great fortitude, and\nit seems to have been generally thought that he was treated with\nunreasonable severity. So far was he from being ashamed of his fate\nhimself, that he wrote a hymn to the pillory, which thus ends, alluding\nto his accusers:\n     Tell them, the men that plac'd him here\n     Are scandals to the times;\n     Are at a loss to find his guilt,\n     And can't commit his crimes.\nPope, who has thought fit to introduce him in his Dunciad, (probably\nfrom no other reason than party difference) characterizes him in the\nfollowing line:\n     Earless on high stood unabash'd De Foe.\nThis is one of those instances of injustice and malignity which so\nfrequently occur in the Dunciad, and which reflect more dishonour on the\nauthor than on the parties traduced. De Foe lay friendless and\ndistressed in Newgate, his family ruined, and himself without hopes of\ndeliverance, till Sir Robert Harley, who approved of his principles, and\nforesaw that during a factious age such a genius could be converted to\nmany uses, represented his unmerited sufferings to the Queen, and at\nlength procured his release. The treasurer, Lord Godolphin, also sent a\nconsiderable sum to his wife and family, and to him money to pay his\nfine and the expense of his discharge. Gratitude and fidelity are\ninseparable from an honest man; and it was this benevolent act that\nprompted De Foe to support Harley, with his able and ingenious pen, when\nAnne lay lifeless, and his benefactor in the vicissitude of party was\npersecuted by faction, and overpowered, though not conquered,\nby violence.\nThe talents and perseverance of De Foe began now to be properly\nestimated, and as a firm supporter of the administration, he was sent by\nLord Godolphin to Scotland, on an errand which, as he says, was far from\nbeing unfit for a sovereign to direct, or an honest man to perform. His\nknowledge of commerce and revenue, his powers of insinuation, and, above\nall, his readiness of pen, were deemed of no small utility in promoting\nthe union of the two kingdoms; of which he wrote an able history in\n1709, with two dedications, one to the Queen, and another to the Duke of\nQueensbury. Soon afterwards he unhappily, by some equivocal writings,\nrendered himself suspected by both parties, so that he once more retired\nto Newington, in hopes of spending the remainder of his days in peace.\nHis pension being withdrawn, and wearied with politics, he began to\ncompose works of a different kind.--The year 1715 may therefore be\nregarded as the period of De Foe's political life. Faction henceforth\nfound other advocates, and parties procured other writers to disseminate\ntheir suggestions, and to propagate their falsehoods.\nIn 1715 De Foe published the \"Family Instructor;\" a work inculcating the\ndomestic duties in a lively manner, by narration and dialogue, and\ndisplaying much knowledge of life in the middle ranks of society.\n\"Religious Courtship\" also appeared soon after, which, like the \"Family\nInstructor,\" is eminently religious and moral in its tendency, and\nstrongly impresses on the mind that spirit of sobriety and private\ndevotion for which the dissenters have generally been distinguished. The\nmost celebrated of all his works, \"The Life and Adventures of Robinson\nCrusoe,\" appeared in 1719. This work has passed through numerous\neditions, and been translated into almost all modern languages. The\ngreat invention which is displayed in it, the variety of incidents and\ncircumstances which it contains, related in the most easy and natural\nmanner, together with the excellency of the moral and religious\nreflections, render it a performance of very superior and uncommon\nmerit, and one of the most interesting works that ever appeared. It is\nstrongly recommended by Rosseau as a book admirably calculated to\npromote the purposes of natural education; and Dr. Blair says, \"No\nfiction, in any language, was ever better supported than the Adventures\nof Robinson Crusoe. While it is carried on with that appearance of truth\nand simplicity, which takes a strong hold of the imagination of all\nreaders, it suggests, at the same time, very useful instruction; by\nshowing how much the native powers of man may be exerted for\nsurmounting the difficulties of any external situation.\" It has been\npretended, that De Foe surreptitiously appropriated the papers of\nAlexander Selkirk, a Scotch mariner, who lived four years alone on the\nisland of Juan Fernandez, and a sketch of whose story had before\nappeared in the voyage of Captain Woodes Rogers. But this charge, though\nrepeatedly and confidently brought, appears to be totally destitute of\nany foundation. De Foe probably took some general hints for his work\nfrom the story of Selkirk, but there exists no proof whatever, nor is it\nreasonable to suppose that he possessed any of his papers or memoirs,\nwhich had been published seven years before the appearance of Robinson\nCrusoe. As a farther proof of De Foe's innocence, Captain Rogers'\nAccount of Selkirk may be produced, in which it is said that the latter\nhad neither preserved pen, ink, or paper, and had, in a great measure,\nlost his language; consequently De Foe could not have received any\nwritten assistance, and we have only the assertion of his enemies to\nprove that he had any verbal.\nThe great success of Robinson Crusoe induced its author to write a\nnumber of other lives and adventures, some of which were popular in\ntheir times, though at present nearly forgotten. One of his latest\npublications was \"A Tour through the Island of Great Britain,\" a\nperformance of very inferior merit; but De Foe was now the garrulous\nold man, and his spirit (to use the words of an ingenious biographer)\n\"like a candle struggling in the socket, blazed and sunk, blazed and\nsunk, till it disappeared at length in total darkness.\" His laborious\nand unfortunate life was finished on the 26th of April, 1731, in' the\nparish of St. Giles's, Cripplegate.\nDaniel De Foe possessed very extraordinary talents; as a commercial\nwriter, he is fairly entitled to stand in the foremost rank among his\ncontemporaries, whatever may be their performances or their fame. His\ndistinguishing characteristics are originality, spirit, and a profound\nknowledge of his subject, and in these particulars he has seldom been\nsurpassed. As the author of Robinson Crusoe he has a claim, not only to\nthe admiration, but to the gratitude of his countrymen; and so long as\nwe have a regard for supereminent merit, and take an interest in the\nwelfare of the rising generation, that gratitude will not cease to\nexist. But the opinion of the learned and ingenious Dr. Beattie will be\nthe best eulogium that can be pronounced on that celebrated romance:\n\"Robinson Crusoe,\" says the Doctor, \"must be allowed, by the most rigid\nmoralist, to be one of those novels which one may read, riot only with\npleasure, but also with profit. It breathes throughout a spirit of\npiety and benevolence; it sets in a very striking light the importance\nof the mechanic arts, which they, who know not what it is to be without\nthem, are so apt to under-value; it fixes in the mind a lively idea of\nthe horrors of solitude, and, consequently, of the sweets of social\nlife, and of the blessings we derive from conversation and mutual aid;\nand it shows how, by labouring with one's own hands, one may secure\nindependence, and open for one's self many sources of health and\namusement. I agree, therefore, with Rosseau, that it is one of the best\nbooks that can be put into the hands of children.\"\nFOOTNOTES:\n[Footnote 1: _St. James's, January 10, 1702-5._ \"Whereas Daniel De Foe,\nalias De Fooe, is charged with writing a scandalous and seditious\npamphlet, entitled 'The shortest Way with the Dissenters:' he is a\nmiddle-sized spare man, about 40 years old, of a brown complexion, and\ndark-brown coloured hair, but wears a wig, a hooked nose, a sharp chin,\ngrey eyes, and a large mole near his mouth, was born in London, and for\nmany years was a hose-factor, in Freeman's Yard, in Cornhill, and now is\nowner of the brick and pantile works near Tilbury Fort, in Essex;\nwhoever shall discover the said Daniel De Foe, to one of her Majesty's\nPrincipal Secretaries of State, or any of her Majesty's Justices of\nPeace, so as he may be apprehended, shall have a reward of \u00a350, which\nher Majesty has ordered immediately to be paid upon such discovery.\"\n_London Gaz._ No. 3879.]\nTHE\nLIFE AND ADVENTURES\nOF\nROBINSON CRUSOE.\nI was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family,\nthough not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who\nsettled first at Hull: he got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving\noff his trade, lived afterwards at York; from whence he had married my\nmother, whose relations were named Robinson, a very good family in that\ncountry, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but, by the\nusual corruption of words in England, we are now called, nay we call\nourselves, and write, our name Crusoe; and so my companions always\ncalled me.\nI had two elder brothers, one of whom was lieutenant-colonel to an\nEnglish regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous\nColonel Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near Dunkirk against the\nSpaniards. What became of my second brother I never knew, any more than\nmy father or mother did know what was become of me.\nBeing the third son of the family, and not bred to any trade, my head\nbegan to be filled very early with rambling thoughts: my father, who was\nvery ancient, had given me a competent share of learning, as far as\nhouse-education and a country free-school generally go, and designed me\nfor the law; but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea; and\nmy inclination to this led me so strongly, against the will, nay, the\ncommands of my father, and against all the entreaties and persuasions of\nmy mother and other friends, that there seemed to be something fatal in\nthat propension of nature, tending directly to the life of misery which\nwas to befall me.\nMy father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel\nagainst what he foresaw was my design. He called me one morning into his\nchamber, where he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very warmly\nwith me upon this subject: he asked me what reasons more than a mere\nwandering inclination I had for leaving my father's house and my native\ncountry, where I might be well introduced, and had a prospect of raising\nmy fortune by application and industry, with a life of ease and\npleasure. He told me it was for men of desperate fortunes on one hand,\nor of aspiring, superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon\nadventures, to rise by enterprise, and make themselves famous in\nundertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were\nall either too far above me, or too far below me; that mine was the\nmiddle state, or what might be called the upper station of low life,\nwhich he had found, by long experience, was the best state in the world,\nthe most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries and\nhardships, the labour and sufferings of the mechanic part of mankind,\nand not embarrassed with the pride, luxury, ambition, and envy of the\nupper part of mankind. He told me, I might judge of the happiness of\nthis state by one thing, viz. that this was the state of life which all\nother people envied; that kings have frequently lamented the miserable\nconsequences of being born to great things, and wish they had been\nplaced in the middle of the two extremes, between the mean and the\ngreat; that the wise man gave his testimony to this, as the just\nstandard of true felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty\nnor riches.\nHe bid me observe it, and I should always find, that the calamities of\nlife were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind; but that the\nmiddle station had the fewest disasters, and was not exposed to so many\nvicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind; nay, they were not\nsubjected to so many distempers and uneasinesses, either of body or\nmind, as those were, who, by vicious living, luxury, and extravagances,\non one hand, or by hard labour, want of necessaries, and mean and\ninsufficient diet, on the other hand, bring distempers upon themselves\nby the natural consequences of their way of living; that the middle\nstation of life was calculated for all kind of virtues and all kind of\nenjoyments; that peace and plenty were the handmaids of a middle\nfortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health, society, all\nagreeable diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were the blessings\nattending the middle station of life; that this way men went silently\nand smoothly through the world, and comfortably out of it, not\nembarrassed with the labours of the hands or of the head, not sold to\nthe life of slavery for daily bread, or harassed with perplexed\ncircumstances, which rob the soul of peace, and the body of rest; not\nenraged with the passion of envy, or secret burning lust of ambition for\ngreat things; but, in easy circumstances, sliding gently through the\nworld, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living, without the bitter,\nfeeling that they are happy, and learning by every day's experience to\nknow it more sensibly.\nAfter this, he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate\nmanner, not to play the young man, not to precipitate myself into\nmiseries which nature, and the station of life I was born in, seemed to\nhave provided against; that I was under no necessity of seeking my\nbread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly\ninto the station of life which he had been just recommending to me; and\nthat if I was not very easy and happy in the world, it must be my mere\nfate or fault that must hinder it; and that he should have nothing to\nanswer for, having thus discharged his duty in warning me against\nmeasures which he knew would be to my hurt: in a word, that as he would\ndo very kind things for me if I would stay and settle at home as he\ndirected, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes, as to\ngive me any encouragement to go away: and to close all, he told me I had\nmy elder brother for an example, to whom he had used the same earnest\npersuasions to keep him from going into the Low Country wars, but could\nnot prevail, his young desires prompting him to run into the army, where\nhe was killed; and though he said he would not cease to pray for me, yet\nhe would venture to say to me, that if I did take this foolish step, God\nwould not bless me, and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon\nhaving neglected his counsel, when there might be none to assist in\nmy recovery.\nI observed in this last part of his discourse, which was truly\nprophetic, though I suppose my father did not know it to be so himself;\nI say, I observed the tears run down his face very plentifully, and\nespecially when he spoke of my brother who was killed: and that when he\nspoke of my having leisure to repent, and none to assist me, he was so\nmoved, that he broke off the discourse, and told me, his heart was so\nfull he could say no more to me.\nI was sincerely affected with this discourse, as indeed who could be\notherwise? and I resolved not to think of going abroad any more, but to\nsettle at home according to my father's desire. But, alas! a few days\nwore it all off; and, in short, to prevent any of my father's further\nimportunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to run quite away from\nhim. However, I did not act so hastily neither as my first heat of\nresolution prompted, but I took my mother, at a time when I thought her\na little pleasanter than ordinary, and told her, that my thoughts were\nso entirely bent upon seeing the world, that I should never settle to\nany thing with resolution enough to go through with it, and my father\nhad better give me his consent than force me to go without it; that I\nwas now eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice to a\ntrade, or clerk to an attorney; that I was sure, if I did, I should\nnever serve out my time, and I should certainly run away from my master\nbefore my time was out, and go to sea; and if she would speak to my\nfather to let me go one voyage abroad, if I came home again, and did not\nlike it, I would go no more, and I would promise, by a double diligence,\nto recover that time I had lost.\nThis put my mother into a great passion: she told me, she knew it would\nbe to no purpose to speak to my father upon any such subject; that he\nknew too well what was my interest to give his consent to any such thing\nso much for my hurt; and that she wondered how I could think of any such\nthing after such a discourse as I had had with my father, and such kind\nand tender expressions as she knew my father had used to me; and that,\nin short, if I would ruin myself, there was no help for me; but I might\ndepend I should never have their consent to it: that for her part, she\nwould not have so much hand in my destruction; and I should never have\nit to say, that my mother was willing when my father was not.\nThough my mother refused to move it to my father, yet, as I have heard\nafterwards, she reported all the discourse to him, and that my father,\nafter showing a great concern at it, said to her with a sigh, \"That boy\nmight be happy if he would stay at home; but if he goes abroad, he will\nbe the most miserable wretch that was ever born; I can give no\nconsent to it.\"\nIt was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose, though, in\nthe mean time, I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling\nto business, and frequently expostulating with my father and mother\nabout their being so positively determined against what they knew my\ninclinations prompted me to. But being one day at Hull, where I went\ncasually, and without any purpose of making an elopement at that time;\nbut, I say, being there, and one of my companions then going by sea to\nLondon, in his father's ship, and prompting me to go with them, with the\ncommon allurement of seafaring men, viz. that it should cost me nothing\nfor my passage, I consulted neither father or mother any more, not so\nmuch as sent them word of it; but leaving them to hear of it as they\nmight, without asking God's blessing, or my father's, without any\nconsideration of circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God\nknows, on the first of September, 1651, I went on board a ship bound\nfor London. Never any young adventurer's misfortunes, I believe, began\nsooner, or continued longer than mine. The ship was no sooner gotten out\nof the Humber, but the wind began to blow, and the waves to rise in a\nmost frightful manner; and, as I had never been at sea before, I was\nmost inexpressibly sick in body, and terrified in mind. I began now\nseriously to reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was\novertaken by the judgment of Heaven for wickedly leaving my father's\nhouse, and abandoning my duty. All the good counsel of my parents, my\nfather's tears and my mother's entreaties, came now fresh into my mind;\nand my conscience, which was not yet come to the pitch of hardness to\nwhich it has been since, reproached me with the contempt of advice, and\nthe breach of my duty to God and my father.\nAll this while the storm increased, and the sea, which I had never been\nupon before, went very high, though nothing like what I have seen many\ntimes since; no, nor like what I saw a few days after: but it was enough\nto affect me then, who was but a young sailor, and had never known any\nthing of the matter. I expected every wave would have swallowed us up,\nand that every time the ship fell down, as I thought, in the trough or\nhollow of the sea, we should never rise more; and in this agony of mind\nI made many vows and resolutions, that if it would please God here to\nspare my life this one voyage, if ever I got once my foot upon dry land\nagain, I would go directly home to my father, and never set it into a\nship again while I lived; that I would take his advice, and never run\nmyself into such miseries as these any more. Now I saw plainly the\ngoodness of his observations about the middle station of life, how\neasy, how comfortably he had lived all his days, and never had been\nexposed to tempests at sea, or troubles on shore; and I resolved that I\nwould, like a true repenting prodigal, go home to my father.\nThese wise and sober thoughts continued during the storm, and indeed\nsome time after; but the next day, as the wind was abated, and the sea\ncalmer, I began to be a little inured to it: however, I was very grave\nfor all that day, being also a little sea-sick still; but towards night\nthe weather cleared up, the wind was quite over, and a charming fine\nevening followed; the sun went down perfectly clear, and rose so the\nnext morning; and having little or no wind, and a smooth sea, the sun\nshining upon it, the sight was, as I thought, the most delightful that\nI ever saw.\nI had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick, but very\ncheerful, looking with wonder upon the sea that was so rough and\nterrible the day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in a\nlittle time after. And now, lest my good resolutions should continue, my\ncompanion, who had indeed enticed me away, came to me and said, \"Well;\nBob,\" clapping me on the shoulder, \"how do you do after it? I warrant\nyou were frightened, wa'n't you, last night, when it blew but a cap-full\nof wind?\"--\"A cap-full do you call it?\" said I; \"it was a terrible\nstorm.\"--\"A storm, you fool you,\" replied he, \"do you call that a\nstorm? why it was nothing at all; give us but a good ship and sea-room,\nand we think nothing of such a squall of wind as that; but you're but a\nfresh-water sailor. Bob, Come, let us make a bowl of punch, and we'll\nforget all that; do you see what charming weather it is now?\" To make\nshort this sad part of my story, we went the old way of all sailors; the\npunch was made, and I was made drunk with it; and in that one night's\nwickedness I drowned all my repentance, all my reflections upon my past\nconduct, and all my resolutions for my future. In a word, as the sea was\nreturned to its smoothness of surface and settled calmness by the\nabatement of that storm, so the hurry of my thoughts being over, my\nfears and apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being\nforgotten, and the current of my former desires returned, I entirely\nforgot the vows and promises that I made in my distress. I found,\nindeed, some intervals of reflection; and serious thoughts did, as it\nwere, endeavour to return again sometimes; but I shook them off, and\nroused myself from them as it were from a distemper, and applying myself\nto drinking and company, soon mastered the return of those fits, for so\nI called them; and I had in five or six days got as complete a victory\nover conscience, as any young fellow that resolved not to be troubled\nwith it, could desire: but I was to have another trial for it still; and\nProvidence, as in such cases generally it does, resolved to leave me\nentirely without excuse: for if I would not take this for a deliverance,\nthe next was to be such a one as the worst and most hardened wretch\namong us would confess both the danger and the mercy of.\nThe sixth day of our being at sea we came into Yarmouth Roads; the wind\nhaving been contrary, and the weather calm, we had made but little way\nsince the storm. Here we were obliged to come to anchor, and here we\nlay, the wind continuing contrary, viz. at south-west, for seven or\neight days, during which tune a great many ships from Newcastle came\ninto the same roads, as the common harbour where the ships might wait\nfor a wind for the River.\nWe had not, however, rid here so long, but should have tided it up the\nriver, but that the wind blew too fresh; and, after we had lain four or\nfive days, blew very hard. However, the roads being reckoned as good as\na harbour, the anchorage good, and our ground tackle very strong, our\nmen were unconcerned, and not in the least apprehensive of danger, but\nspent the time in rest and mirth, after the manner of the sea; but the\neighth day in the morning the wind increased, and we had all hands at\nwork to strike our top-masts, and make every thing snug and close, that\nthe ship might ride as easy as possible. By noon the sea went very high\nindeed, and our ship rode forecastle in, shipped several seas, and we\nthought once or twice our anchor had come home; upon which our master\nordered out the sheet anchor; so that we rode with two anchors a-head,\nand the cables veered out to the better end.\nBy this time it blew a terrible storm indeed; and now I began to see\nterror and amazement in the faces even of the seamen themselves. The\nmaster, though vigilant in the business of preserving the ship, yet as\nhe went in and out of his cabin by me, I could hear him softly say to\nhimself several times, \"Lord, be merciful to us! we shall be all lost;\nwe shall be all undone!\" and the like. During these first hurries I was\nstupid, lying still in my cabin, which was in the steerage, and cannot\ndescribe my temper: I could ill reassume the first penitence which I had\nso apparently trampled upon, and hardened myself against. I thought the\nbitterness of death had been past, and that this would be nothing like\nthe first: but when the master himself came by me, as I said just now,\nand said we should be all lost, I was dreadfully frighted: I got up but\nof my cabin, and looked out; but such a dismal sight I never saw; the\nsea went mountains high, and broke upon us every three or four minutes:\nwhen I could look about, I could see nothing but distress around us: two\nships that rid near us, we found, had cut their masts by the board,\nbeing deep laden; and our men cried out, that a ship which rid about a\nmile a-head of us was foundered. Two more ships being driven from their\nanchors, were run out of the roads to sea, at all adventures, and that\nwith not a mast standing. The light ships-fared the best, as not so much\nlabouring in the sea; but two or three of them drove, and came close by\nus, running away with only their spritsail out before the wind.\nTowards evening the mate and boatswain begged the master of our ship to\nlet them cut away the fore-mast, which he was very unwilling to do: but\nthe boatswain protesting to him, that if he did not, the ship would\nfounder, he consented; and when they had cut away the-fore-mast, the\nmain-mast stood so loose, and shook the ship so much, they were obliged\nto cut her away also, and make a clear deck.\nAny one may judge what a condition I must be in at all this, who was\nbut a young sailor, and who had been in such a fright before at but a\nlittle. But if I can express at this distance the thoughts that I had\nabout me at that time, I was in tenfold more horror of mind upon account\nof my former convictions, and the having returned from them to the\nresolutions I had wickedly taken at first, than I was at death itself;\nand these, added to the terror of the storm, put me in such a condition,\nthat I can by no words describe it. But the worst was not come yet; the\nstorm continued with such fury, that the seamen themselves acknowledged\nthey had never known a worse. We had a good ship, but she was deep\nladen, and wallowed in the sea, that the seamen every now and then cried\nout, she would founder. It was my advantage in one respect, that I did\nnot know what they meant by _founder_, till I inquired. However, the\nstorm was so violent, that I saw what is not often seen, the master, the\nboatswain, and some others more sensible than the rest, at their\nprayers, and expecting every moment when the ship would go to the\nbottom. In the middle of the night, and under all the rest of our\ndistresses, one of the men that had been down on purpose to see, cried\nout, we had sprung a leak; another said, there was four foot water in\nthe hold. Then all hands were called to the pump. At that very word my\nheart, as I thought, died within me, and I fell backwards upon the side\nof my bed where I sat, into the cabin. However, the men roused me, and\ntold me, that I, that was able to do nothing before, was as well able to\npump as another; at which I stirred up, and went to the pump and worked\nvery heartily. While this was doing, the master seeing some light\ncolliers, who, not able to ride out the storm, were obliged to slip and\nrun away to sea, and would not come near us, ordered us to fire a gun as\na signal of distress. I, who knew nothing what that meant, was so\nsurprised, that I thought the ship had broke, or some dreadful thing had\nhappened. In a word, I was so surprised, that I fell down in a swoon. As\nthis was a time when every body had his own life to think of, nobody\nminded me, or what was become of me; but another man stept up to the\npump, and thrusting me aside with his foot, let me lie, thinking I had\nbeen dead; and it was a great while before I came to myself.\nWe worked on; but the water increasing in the hold, it was apparent that\nthe ship would founder; and though the storm began to abate a little,\nyet as it was not possible she could swim till we might run into a port,\nso the master continued firing guns for help; and a light ship, who had\nrid it out just a-head of us, ventured a boat out to help us. It was\nwith the utmost hazard the boat came near us, but it was impossible for\nus to get on board, or for the boat to lie near the ship's side, till at\nlast the men rowing very heartily, and venturing their lives to save\nours, our men cast them a rope over the stern with a buoy to it, and\nthen veered it out a great length, which they, after great labour and\nhazard, took hold of, and we hauled them close under our stern, and got\nall into their boat. It was to no purpose for them or us, after we were\nin the boat, to think of reaching to their own ship; so all agreed to\nlet her drive, and only to pull her in towards shore as much as we\ncould; and our master promised them, that if the boat was staved upon\nshore he would make it good to their master: so partly rowing and partly\ndriving, our boat went away to the northward, sloping towards the shore\nalmost as far as Winterton Ness.\nWe were not much more than a quarter of an hour out of our ship but we\nsaw her sink, and then I understood for the first time what was meant by\na ship foundering in the sea. I must acknowledge I had hardly eyes to\nlook up when the seamen told me she was sinking; for from that moment\nthey rather put me into the boat, than that I might be said to go in; my\nheart was, as it were, dead within me, partly with fright, partly with\nhorror of mind, and the thoughts of what was yet before me.\nWhile we were in this condition, the men yet labouring at the oar to\nbring the boat near the shore, we could see (when, our boat mounting the\nwaves, we were able to see the shore) a great many people running along\nthe strand to assist us when we should come near; but we made but slow\nway towards the shore; nor were we able to reach it, till, being past\nthe light-house at Winterton, the shore falls off to the westward,\ntowards Cromer, and so the land broke off a little the violence of the\nwind. Here we got in, and, though not without much difficulty, got all\nsafe on shore, and walked afterwards on foot to Yarmouth, where, as\nunfortunate men, we were used with great humanity, as well by the\nmagistrates of the town, who assigned us good quarters, as by particular\nmerchants and owners of ships, and had money given us sufficient to\ncarry us either to London or back to Hull, as we thought fit.\nHad I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull, and have gone home, I\nhad been happy, and my father, an emblem of our blessed Saviour's\nparable, had even killed the fatted calf for me; for hearing the ship I\nwent away in was cast away in Yarmouth Roads, it was a great while\nbefore he had any assurance that I was not drowned.\nBut my ill fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy that nothing could\nresist; and though I had several times loud calls from my reason, and my\nmore composed judgment, to go home, yet I had no power to do it. I know\nnot what to call this, nor will I urge that it is a secret overruling\ndecree that hurries us on to be the instruments of our own destruction,\neven though it be before us, and that we rush upon it with our eyes\nopen. Certainly, nothing but some such decreed unavoidable misery\nattending, and which it was impossible for me to escape, could have\npushed me forward against the calm reasonings and persuasions of my most\nretired thoughts, and against two such visible instructions as I had met\nwith in my first attempt.\nMy comrade, who had helped to harden me before, and who was the master's\nson, was now less forward than I. The first time he spoke to me after we\nwere at Yarmouth, which was not till two or three days, for we were\nseparated in the town to several quarters; I say, the first time he saw\nme, it appeared his tone was altered, and looking very melancholy, and\nshaking his head, asked me how I did, and telling his father who I was,\nand how I had come this voyage only for a trial, in order to go farther\nabroad; his father turning to me with a very grave and concerned tone,\n\"Young man,\" says he, \"you ought never to go to sea any more; you ought\nto take this for a plain and visible token that you are not to be a\nseafaring man,\"--\"Why, Sir,\" said I, \"will you go to sea no more?\" \"That\nis another case,\" said he; \"it is my calling, and therefore my duty; but\nas you made this voyage for a trial, you see what a taste Heaven has\ngiven you of what you are to expect if you persist. Perhaps this has all\nbefallen us on your account, like Jonah in the ship of Tarshish. Pray,\"\ncontinues he, \"what are you; and on what account did you go to sea?\"\nUpon that I told him some of my story; at the end of which he burst out\nwith a strange kind of passion; \"What had I done,\" says he, \"that such\nan unhappy wretch should come into my ship? I would not set my foot in\nthe same ship with thee again for a thousand pounds,\" This indeed was,\nas I said, an excursion of his spirits, which were yet agitated by the\nsense of his loss, and was farther than he could have authority to go.\nHowever, he afterwards talked very gravely to me, exhorting me to go\nback to my father, and not tempt Providence to my ruin; told me I might\nsee a visible hand of Heaven against me. \"And young man,\" said he,\n\"depend upon it, if you do not go back, wherever you go, you will meet\nwith nothing but disasters and disappointments, till your father's words\nare fulfilled upon you.\"\nWe parted soon after; for I made him little answer, and I saw him no\nmore: which way he went, I know not. As for me, having some money in my\npocket, I travelled to London by land; and there, as well as on the\nroad, had many struggles with myself, what course of life I should\ntake, and whether I should go home, or go to sea.\nAs to going home, shame opposed the best notions that offered to my\nthoughts; and it immediately occurred to me how I should be laughed at\namong the neighbours, and should be ashamed to see, not my father and\nmother only, but even every body else; from whence I have since often\nobserved, how incongruous and irrational the common temper of mankind\nis, especially of youth, to that reason which ought to guide them in\nsuch cases, viz. that they are not ashamed to sin, and yet are ashamed\nto repent; nor ashamed of the action for which they ought justly to be\nesteemed fools, but are ashamed of the returning, which only can make\nthem be esteemed wise men.\nIn this state of life, however, I remained some time, uncertain what\nmeasures to take, and what course of life to lead. An irresistible\nreluctance continued to going home; and as I stayed a while, the\nremembrance of the distress I had been in wore off; and as that abated,\nthe little notion I had in my desires to a return wore off with it, till\nat last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it, and looked out for\na voyage.\nThat evil influence which carried me first away from my father's house,\nthat hurried me into the wild and indigested notion of raising my\nfortune; and that impressed those conceits so forcibly upon me, as to\nmake me deaf to all good advice, and to the entreaties and even the\ncommands of my father: I say, the same influence, whatever it was,\npresented the most unfortunate of all enterprises to my view; and I\nwent on board a vessel bound to the coast of Africa; or, as our sailors\nvulgarly call it, a voyage to Guinea.\nIt was my great misfortune that in all these adventures I did not ship\nmyself as a sailor; whereby, though I might indeed have worked a little\nharder than ordinary, yet at the same time I had learnt the duty and\noffice of a foremast-man; and in time might have qualified myself for a\nmate or lieutenant, if not for a master. But as it was always my fate to\nchoose for the worse, so I did here; for having money in my pocket, and\ngood clothes upon my back, I would always go on board in the habit of a\ngentleman; and so I neither had any business in the ship, or learnt\nto do any.\nIt was my lot first of all to fall into pretty good company in London,\nwhich does not always happen to such loose and unguided young fellows as\nI then was; the devil generally not omitting to lay some snare for them\nvery early: but it was not so with me. I first fell acquainted with the\nmaster of a ship who had been on the coast of Guinea; and who, having\nhad very good success there, was resolved to go again; and who taking a\nfancy to my conversation, which was not at all disagreeable at that\ntime, hearing me say I had a mind to see the world, told me if I would\ngo the voyage with him I should be at no expense; I should be his\nmessmate and his companion; and if I could carry any thing with me, I\nshould have all the advantage of it that the trade would admit; and\nperhaps I might meet with some encouragement.\nI embraced the offer; and entering into a strict friendship with this\ncaptain, who was an honest and plain-dealing man, I went the voyage with\nhim, and carried a small adventure with me, which, by the disinterested\nhonesty of my friend the captain, I increased very considerably; for I\ncarried about \u00a340 in such toys and trifles as the captain directed me to\nbuy. This \u00a340 I had mustered together by the assistance of some of my\nrelations whom I corresponded with, and who, I believe, got my father,\nor at least my mother, to contribute so much as that to my first\nadventure.\nThis was the only voyage which I may say I was successful in all my\nadventures, and which I owe to the integrity and honesty of my friend\nthe captain; under whom also I got a competent knowledge of the\nmathematics and the rules of navigation, learnt how to keep an account\nof the ship's course, take an observation, and, in short, to understand\nsome things that were needful to be understood by a sailor: for, as he\ntook delight to instruct me, I took delight to learn; and, in a word,\nthis voyage made me both a sailor and a merchant: for I brought home\nfive pounds nine ounces of gold-dust for my adventure, which yielded me\nin London at my return almost \u00a3300, and this filled me with those\naspiring thoughts which have so completed my ruin.\nYet even in this voyage I had my misfortunes too; particularly, that I\nwas continually sick, being thrown into a violent calenture by the\nexcessive heat of the climate; our principal trading being upon the\ncoast, from the latitude of 15 degrees north even to the line itself.\nI was now set up for a Guinea trader; and my friend, to my great\nmisfortune, dying soon after his arrival, I resolved to go the same\nvoyage again, and I embarked in the same vessel with one who was his\nmate in his former voyage, and had now got the command of the ship. This\nwas the unhappiest voyage that ever man made; for though I did not carry\nquite \u00a3100 of my new-gained wealth, so that I had \u00a3200 left, and which I\nlodged with my friend's widow, who was very just to me, yet I fell into\nterrible misfortunes in this voyage; and the first was this, viz. our\nship making her course towards the Canary Islands, or rather between\nthose islands and the African shore, was surprised in the grey of the\nmorning by a Turkish rover, of Sallee, who gave chase to us with all the\nsail she could make. We crowded also as much canvass as our yards would\nspread, or our masts carry to have got clear; but finding the pirate\ngained upon us, and would certainly come up with us in a few hours, we\nprepared to fight; our ship having twelve guns, and the rover eighteen.\nAbout three in the afternoon he came up with us, and bringing to, by\nmistake, just athwart our quarter, instead of athwart our stern, as he\nintended, we brought eight of our guns to bear on that side, and poured\nin a broadside upon him, which made him sheer off again, after returning\nour fire, and pouring in also his small-shot from near 200 men which he\nhad on board. However, we had not a man touched, all our men keeping\nclose. He prepared to attack us again, and we to defend ourselves; but\nlaying us on board the next time upon our other quarter, he entered\nsixty men upon our decks, who immediately fell to cutting and hacking\nthe sails and rigging. We plied them with small-shot, half-pikes,\npowder-chests, and such like, and cleared our deck of them twice.\nHowever, to cut short this melancholy part of our story, our ship being\ndisabled, and three of our men killed and eight wounded, we were obliged\nto yield, and were carried all prisoners into Sallee, a port belonging\nto the Moors.\nThe usage I had there was not so dreadful as at first I apprehended; nor\nwas I carried up the country to the emperor's court, as the rest of our\nmen were, but was kept by the captain of the rover as his proper prize,\nand made his slave, being young and nimble, and fit for his business. At\nthis surprising change of my circumstances, from a merchant to a\nmiserable slave, I was perfectly overwhelmed; and now I looked back upon\nmy father's prophetic discourse to me, that I should be miserable, and\nhave none to relieve me, which I thought was now so effectually brought\nto pass, that I could not be worse; that now the hand of Heaven had\novertaken me, and I was undone without redemption: but, alas! this was\nbut a taste of the misery I was to go through, as will appear in the\nsequel of this story.\nAs my new patron, or master, had taken me home to his house, so I was in\nhopes that he would take me with him when he went to sea again,\nbelieving that it would sometime or other be his fate to be taken by a\nSpanish or Portugal man of war; and that then I should be set at\nliberty. But this hope of mine was soon taken away; for when he went to\nsea, he left me on shore to look after his little garden, and do the\ncommon drudgery of slaves about his house; and when he came home again\nfrom his cruise, he ordered me to lie in the cabin to look after\nthe ship.\nHere I meditated nothing but my escape, and what method I might take to\neffect it, but found no way that had the least probability in it:\nnothing presented to make the supposition of it rational; for I had\nnobody to communicate it to that would embark with me, no fellow slave,\nno Englishman, Irishman, or Scotchman there but myself; so that for two\nyears, though I often pleased myself with the imagination, yet I never\nhad the least encouraging prospect of putting it in practice.\nAfter about two years an odd circumstance presented itself, which put\nthe old thought of making some attempt for my liberty again in my head.\nMy patron lying at home longer than usual without fitting out his ship,\nwhich, as I heard, was for want of money, he used constantly, once or\ntwice a week, sometimes oftener, if the weather was fair, to take the\nship's pinnace, and go out into the road a-fishing; and as he always\ntook me and a young Moresco with him to row the boat, we made him very\nmerry, and I proved very dexterous in catching fish; insomuch that\nsometimes he would send me with a Moor, one of his kinsmen, and the\nyouth of Moresco, as they called him, to catch a dish of fish for him.\nIt happened one time, that going a-fishing in a stark calm morning, a\nfog rose so thick, that though we were not half a league from the shore\nwe lost sight of it; and rowing we knew not whither or which way, we\nlaboured all day, and all the next night, and when the morning came we\nfound we had pulled off to sea instead of pulling in for the shore; and\nthat we were at least two leagues from the shore: however, we got well\nin again, though with a great deal of labour and some danger; for the\nwind began to blow pretty fresh in the morning; but particularly we were\nall very hungry.\nBut our patron, warned by this disaster, resolved to take more care of\nhimself for the future; and having lying by him the long-boat of our\nEnglish ship he had taken, he resolved he would not go a-fishing any\nmore without a compass and some provision; so he ordered the carpenter\nof his ship, who also was an English slave, to build a little\nstate-room, or cabin, in the middle of the long-boat, like that of a\nbarge, with a place to stand behind it to steer and haul home the\nmain-sheet; and room before for a hand or two to stand and work the\nsails: she sailed with what we call a shoulder of mutton sail; and the\nboom gibbed over the top of the cabin, which lay very snug and low, and\nhad in it room for him to lie, with a slave or two, and a table to eat\non, with some small lockers to put in some bottles of such liquor as he\nthought fit to drink; and particularly his bread, rice, and coffee.\nWe went frequently out with this boat a-fishing, and as I was most\ndexterous to catch fish for him, he never went without me. It happened\nthat he had appointed to go out in this boat, either for pleasure or for\nfish, with two or three Moors of some distinction in that place, and for\nwhom he had provided extraordinarily, and had therefore sent on board\nthe boat over-night a larger store of provisions than ordinary; and had\nordered me to get ready three fuzees with powder and shot, which were on\nboard his ship; for that they designed some sport of fowling as well\nas fishing.\nI got all things ready as he had directed, and waited the next morning\nwith the boat washed clean, her ensign and pendants out, and every thing\nto accommodate his guests; when by and by my patron came on board alone,\nand told me his guests had put off going, upon some business that fell\nout, and ordered me with the man and boy, as usual, to go out with the\nboat and catch them some fish, for that his friends were to sup at his\nhouse; and commanded that as soon as I got some fish I should bring it\nhome to his house; all which I prepared to do.\nThis moment my former notions of deliverance darted into my thoughts,\nfor now I found I was like to have a little ship at my command; and my\nmaster being gone, I prepared to furnish myself, not for fishing\nbusiness, but for a voyage; though I knew not, neither did I so much as\nconsider, whither I should steer; for any where, to get out of that\nplace, was my way.\nMy first contrivance was to make a pretence to speak to this Moor, to\nget something for our subsistence on board; for I told him we must not\npresume to eat of our patron's bread; he said, that was true: so he\nbrought a large basket of rusk or biscuit of their kind, and three jars\nwith fresh water, into the boat. I knew where my patron's case of\nbottles stood, which it was evident, by the make, were taken out of some\nEnglish prize, and I conveyed them into the boat while the Moor was on\nshore, as if they had been there before for our master: I conveyed also\na great lump of bees-wax into the boat, which weighed above half a\nhundred weight, with a parcel of twine or thread, a hatchet, a saw, and\na hammer, all which were of great use to us afterwards, especially the\nwax to make candles. Another trick I tried upon him, which he innocently\ncame into also; his name was Ismael, whom they call Muley, or Moley; so\nI called him: \"Moley,\" said I, \"our patron's guns are on board the boat;\ncan you not get a little powder and shot? it may be we may kill some\nalcamies (a fowl like our curlews) for ourselves, for I know he keeps\nthe gunner's stores in the ship.\"--\"Yes,\" says he, \"I'll bring some;\"\nand accordingly he brought a great leather pouch which held about a\npound and a half of powder, or rather more; and another with shot, that\nhad five or six pounds, with some bullets, and put all into the boat: at\nthe same time I had found some powder of my master's in the great cabin,\nwith which I filled one of the large bottles in the case, which was\nalmost empty, pouring what was in it into another; and thus furnished\nwith every thing needful, we sailed out of the port to fish. The castle,\nwhich is at the entrance of the port, knew who we were, and took no\nnotice of us: and we were not above a mile out of the port before we\nhauled in our sail, and set us down to fish. The wind blew from the\nN.N.E. which was contrary to my desire; for had it blown southerly, I\nhad been sure to have made the coast of Spain, and at least reached to\nthe bay of Cadiz; but my resolutions were, blow which way it would, I\nwould be gone from that horrid place where I was, and leave the rest\nto fate.\nAfter we had fished some time and catched nothing, for when I had fish\non my hook I would not pull them up, that he might not see them, I said\nto the Moor, \"This will not do; our master will not be thus served; we\nmust stand farther off.\" He, thinking no harm, agreed, and being in the\nhead of the boat set the sails; and as I had the helm I run the boat out\nnear a league farther, and then brought her to as if I would fish; when\ngiving the boy the helm, I stepped forward to where the Moor was, and\nmaking as if I stooped for something behind him, I took him by surprise\nwith my arm under his waist, and tossed him clear overboard into the\nsea. He rose immediately, for he swam like a cork, and called to me,\nbegged to be taken in, told me he would go all over the world with me.\nHe swam so strong after the boat, that he would have reached me very\nquickly, there being but little wind; upon which I stepped into the\ncabin, and fetching one of the fowling-pieces, I presented it at him,\nand told him, I had done him no hurt, and if he would be quiet I would\ndo him none: \"But,\" said I, \"you swim well enough to reach to the shore,\nand the sea is calm; make the best of your way to shore, and I will do\nyou no harm; but if you come near the boat I'll shoot you through the\nhead, for I am resolved to have my liberty.\" so he turned himself about,\nand swam for the shore, and I make no doubt but he reached it with ease,\nfor he was an excellent swimmer.\nI could have been content to have taken this Moor with me, and have\ndrowned the boy, but there was no venturing to trust him. When he was\ngone I turned to the boy, whom they called Xury, and said to him,\n\"Xury, if you will be faithful to me I'll make you a great man; but if\nyou will not stroke your face to be true to me,\" that is, swear by\nMahomet and his father's beard, \"I must throw you into the sea too.\" The\nboy smiled in my face, and spoke so innocently, that I could not\nmistrust him; and swore to be faithful to me, and go all over the\nworld with me.\nWhile I was in view of the Moor that was swimming, I stood out directly\nto sea with the boat, rather stretching to windward, that they might\nthink me gone towards the Straits' mouth; (as indeed any one that had\nbeen in their wits must have been supposed to do) for who would have\nsupposed we were sailed on to the southward to the truly Barbarian\ncoast, where whole nations of Negroes were sure to surround us with the\ncanoes, and destroy us; where we could never once go on shore but we\nshould be devoured by savage beasts, or more merciless savages of\nhuman kind?\nBut as soon as it grew dusk in the evening, I changed my course, and\nsteered directly south and by east, bending my course a little toward\nthe east, that I might keep in with the shore; and having a fair, fresh\ngale of wind, and a smooth, quiet sea, I made such sail that I believe\nby the next day at three o'clock in the afternoon, when I first made the\nland, I could not be less than 150 miles south of Sallee; quite beyond\nthe Emperor of Morocco's dominions, or indeed of any other king\nthereabout, for we saw no people.\nYet such was the fright I had taken at the Moors, and the dreadful\napprehensions I had of falling into their hands, that I would not stop,\nor go on shore, or come to an anchor; the wind continuing fair till I\nhad sailed in that manner five days; and then the wind shifting to the\nsouthward, I concluded also that if any of our vessels were in chase of\nme, they also would now give over; so I ventured to make to the coast,\nand come to an anchor in the mouth of a little river, I knew not what,\nor where; neither what latitude, what country, what nation, or what\nriver: I neither saw, or desired to see any people; the principal thing\nI wanted was fresh water. We came into this creek in the evening,\nresolving to swim on shore as soon as it was dark, and discover the\ncountry; but, as soon as it was quite dark, we heard such dreadful\nnoises of the barking, roaring, and howling of wild creatures, of we\nknew not what kinds, that the poor boy was ready to die with fear, and\nbegged of me not to go on shore till day. \"Well, Xury,\" said I, \"then I\nwon't; but it may be we may see men by day, who will be as bad to us as\nthose lions.\"--\"Then we give them the shoot gun,\" says Xury, laughing,\n\"make them run wey.\" Such English Xury spoke by conversing among us\nslaves. However I was glad to see the boy so cheerful, and I gave him a\ndram (out of our patron's case of bottles) to cheer him up. After all,\nXury's advice was good, and I took it; we dropped our little anchor, and\nlay still all night; I say still, for we slept none; for in two or three\nhours we saw vast great creatures (we knew not what to call them) of\nmany sorts, come down to the sea-shore and run into the water, wallowing\nand washing themselves for the pleasure of cooling themselves; and they\nmade such hideous howlings and yellings, that I never indeed heard\nthe like.\nXury was dreadfully frightened, and indeed so was I too; but we were\nboth more frightened when we heard one of these mighty creatures come\nswimming towards our boat; we could not see him, but we might hear him\nby his blowing to be a monstrous huge and furious beast; Xury said it\nwas a lion, and it might be so for aught I know; but poor Xury cried to\nme to weigh the anchor and row away: \"No,\" says I, \"Xury; we can slip\nour cable with the buoy to it, and go off to sea; they cannot follow us\nfar.\" I had no sooner said so, but I perceived the creature (whatever it\nwas) within two oars' length, which something surprised me; however, I\nimmediately stepped to the cabin-door, and taking up my gun, fired at\nhim; upon which he immediately turned about, and swam towards the\nshore again.\nBut it is impossible to describe the horrible noises, and hideous cries\nand howlings, that were raised, as well upon the edge of the shore as\nhigher within the country, upon the noise or report of the gun, a thing\nI have some reason to believe those creatures had never heard before:\nthis convinced me that there was no going on shore for us in the night\nupon that coast, and how to venture on shore in the day was another\nquestion too; for to have fallen into the hands of any of the savages,\nhad been as bad as to have fallen into the hands of lions and tigers; at\nleast we were equally apprehensive of the danger of it.\nBe that as it would, we were obliged to go on shore somewhere or other\nfor water, for we had not a pint left in the boat; when or where to get\nit, was the point: Xury said, if I would let him go on shore with one\nof the jars, he would find if there was any water, and bring some to me.\nI asked him why he would go? why I should not go, and he stay in the\nboat? The boy answered with so much affection, that made me love him\never after. Says he, \"If wild mans come, they eat me, you go\nwey.\"--\"Well, Xury,\" said I, \"we will both go, and if the wild mans\ncome, we will kill them, they shall eat neither of us.\" So I gave Xury a\npiece of rusk bread to eat, and a dram out of our patron's case of\nbottles which I mentioned before; and we hauled the boat in as near the\nshore as we thought was proper, and so waded to shore; carrying nothing\nbut our arms, and two jars for water.\nI did not care to go out of sight of the boat, fearing the coming of\ncanoes with savages down the river: but the boy seeing a low place about\na mile up the country, rambled to it; and by and by I saw him come\nrunning towards me. I thought he was pursued by some savage, or frighted\nwith some wild beast, and I run forward towards him to help him, but\nwhen I came nearer to him, I saw something hanging over his shoulders,\nwhich was a creature that he had shot, like a hare, but different in\ncolour, and longer legs; however, we were very glad of it, and it was\nvery good meat; but the great joy that poor Xury came with, was to tell\nme he had found good water, and seen no wild mans.\nBut we found afterwards that we need not take such pains for water, for\na little higher up the creek where we were, we found the water fresh\nwhen the tide was out, which flows but a little way up; so we filled\nour jars, and feasted on the hare we had killed, and prepared to go on\nour way, having seen no footsteps of any human creature in that part of\nthe country.\nAs I had been one voyage to this coast before, I knew very well that the\nislands of the Canaries, and the Cape de Verd islands also, lay not far\noff from the coast. But as I had no instruments to take an observation\nto know what latitude we were in, and not exactly knowing, or at least\nremembering what latitude they were in, and knew not where to look for\nthem, or when to stand off to sea towards them; otherwise I might now\neasily have found some of these islands. But my hope was, that if I\nstood along this coast till I came to that part where the English\ntraded, I should find some of their vessels upon their usual design of\ntrade, that would relieve and take us in.\nBy the best of my calculation, that place where I now was, must be that\ncountry, which, lying between the emperor of Morocco's dominions and the\nNegroes, lies waste, and uninhabited, except by wild beasts; the Negroes\nhaving abandoned it, and gone farther south for fear of the Moors; and\nthe Moors not thinking it worth inhabiting, by reason of its barrenness;\nand indeed both forsaking it because of the prodigious numbers of\ntigers, lions, and leopards, and other furious creatures which harbour\nthere; so that the Moors use it for their hunting only, where they go\nlike an army, two or three thousand men at a time; and indeed for near\nan hundred miles together upon this coast, we saw nothing but a waste,\nuninhabited country by day, and heard nothing but howlings and roaring\nof wild beasts by night.\nOnce or twice in the day-time I thought I saw the Pico of Teneriffe,\nbeing the high top of the Mountain Teneriffe in the Canaries; and had a\ngreat mind to venture out, in hopes of reaching thither; but having\ntried twice, I was forced in again by contrary winds, the sea also going\ntoo high for my little vessel; so I resolved to pursue my first design,\nand keep along the shore.\nSeveral times I was obliged to land for fresh water, after we had left\nthis place; and once in particular, being early in the morning, we came\nto an anchor under a little point of land which was pretty high; and the\ntide beginning to flow, we lay still to go farther in. Xury, whose eyes\nwere more about him than it seems mine were, calls softly to me, and\ntells me that we had best go farther off the shore; \"for,\" says he,\n\"look yonder lies a dreadful monster on the side of that hillock fast\nasleep.\" I looked where he pointed, and saw a dreadful monster indeed,\nfor it was a terrible great lion that lay on the side of the shore,\nunder the shade of a piece of the hill that hung as it were a little\nover him. \"Xury,\" says I, \"you shall go on shore and kill him.\" Xury\nlooked frightened, and said, \"Me kill! he eat me at one mouth;\" one\nmouthful he meant: however, I said no more to the boy, but bad him lie\nstill, and I took our biggest gun, which was almost musket-bore, and\nloaded it with a good charge of powder, and with two slugs, and laid it\ndown; then I loaded another gun with two bullets; and the third (for we\nhad three pieces) I loaded with five smaller bullets. I took the best\naim I could with the first piece to have shot him in the head, but he\nlay so with his leg raised a little above his nose, that the slugs hit\nhis leg about the knee, and broke the bone. He started up, growling at\nfirst, but finding his leg broke, fell down again, and then got up upon\nthree legs, and gave the most hideous roar that ever I heard. I was a\nlittle surprised that I had not hit him on the head; however, I took up\nthe second piece immediately, and, though he began to move off, fired\nagain, and shot him in the head, and had the pleasure to see him drop,\nand make but little noise, but lie struggling for life. Then Xury took\nheart, and would have me let him go on shore; \"Well, go,\" said I; so the\nboy jumped into the water, and taking a little gun in one hand, swam to\nshore with the other hand, and coming close to the creature, put the\nmuzzle of the piece to his ear, and shot him in the head again, which\ndispatched him quite.\nThis was game indeed to us, but this was no food; and I was very sorry\nto lose three charges of powder and shot upon a creature that was good\nfor nothing to us. However, Xury said he would have some of him; so he\ncomes on board, and asked me to give him the hatchet. \"For what, Xury?\"\nsaid I, \"Me cut off his head,\" said he. However, Xury could not cut off\nhis head, but he cut off a foot, and brought it with him, and it was a\nmonstrous great one.\nI bethought myself however, that perhaps the skin of him might one way\nor other be of some value to us; and I resolved to take off his skin if\nI could. So Xury and I went to work with him; but Xury was much the\nbetter workman at it, for I knew very ill how to do it. Indeed it took\nus both up the whole day, but at last we got off the hide of him, and\nspreading it on the top of our cabin, the sun effectually dried it in\ntwo days' time, and it afterwards served me to lie upon.\nAfter this stop, we made on to the southward continually for ten or\ntwelve days, living very sparing on our provisions, which began to abate\nvery much, and going no oftener into the shore than we were obliged to\nfor fresh water: my design in this was, to make the river Gambia or\nSenegal, that is to say, any where about the Cape de Verd, where I was\nin hopes to meet with some European ship; and if I did not, I knew not\nwhat course I had to take, but to seek for the islands, or perish there\namong the Negroes, I knew that all the ships from Europe, which sailed\neither to the coast of Guinea or to Brazil, or to the East Indies, made\nthis Cape, or those islands; and in a word, I put the whole of my\nfortune upon this single point, either that I must meet with some ship,\nor must perish.\nWhen I had pursued this resolution about ten days longer, as I have\nsaid, I began to see that the land was inhabited; and in two or three\nplaces, as we sailed by, we saw people stand upon the shore to look at\nus; we could also perceive they were quite black, and stark naked. I was\nonce inclined to have gone off shore to them; but Xury was my better\ncounsellor, and said to me, \"No go, no go.\" However, I hauled in nearer\nthe shore that I might talk to them, and I found they run along the\nshore by me a good way: I observed they had no weapons in their hands,\nexcept one, who had a long slender stick, which Nury said was a lance,\nand that they would throw them a great way with a good aim; so I kept\nat a distance, but talked with them by signs as well as I could; and\nparticularly made signs for something to eat; they beckoned to me to\nstop my boat, and they would fetch me some meat. Upon this I lowered the\ntop of my sail, and lay by, and two of them ran up into the country, and\nin less than half an hour came back, and brought with them two pieces of\ndry flesh and some corn, such as is the produce of their country; but we\nneither knew what the one or the other was: however, we were willing to\naccept it, but how to come at it was our next dispute, for I was not for\nventuring on shore to them, and they were as much afraid of us: but they\ntook a safe way for us all, for they brought it to the shore and laid it\ndown, and went and stood a great way off till we fetched it on board,\nand then came close to us again.\nWe made signs of thanks to them, for we had nothing to make them amends;\nbut an opportunity offered that very instant to oblige them wonderfully;\nfor while we were lying by the shore came two mighty creatures, one\npursuing the other (as we took it) with great fury from the mountains\ntowards the sea; whether it was the male pursuing the female, or whether\nthey were in sport or in rage, we could not tell, any more than we could\ntell whether it was usual or strange, but I believe it was the latter;\nbecause, in the first place, those ravenous creatures seldom appear but\nin the night; and in the second place, we found the people terribly\nfrightened, especially the women. The man that had the lance or dart did\nnot fly from them, but the rest did; however, as the two creatures ran\ndirectly into the water, they did not seem to offer to fall upon any of\nthe Negroes, but plunged themselves into the sea, and swam about, as if\nthey had come for their diversion: at last, one of them began to come\nnearer our boat than I at first expected; but I lay ready for him, for I\nhad loaded my gun with all possible expedition, and bade Xury load both\nthe others. As soon as he came fairly within my reach, I fired, and shot\nhim directly in the head: immediately he sunk down into the water, but\nrose instantly, and plunged up and down, as if he was struggling for\nlife, and so indeed he was: he immediately made to the shore; but\nbetween the wound, which was his mortal hurt, and the strangling of the\nwater, he died just before he reached the shore.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment of these poor creatures, at\nthe noise and fire of my gun; some of them were even ready to die for\nfear, and fell down as dead with the very terror; but when they saw the\ncreature dead, and sunk in the water, and that I made signs to them to\ncome to the shore, they took heart and came to the shore, and began to\nsearch for the creature. I found him by his blood staining the water;\nand by the help of a rope, which I slung round him, and gave the Negroes\nto haul, they dragged him on shore, and found that it was a most curious\nleopard, spotted, and fine to an admirable degree; and the Negroes held\nup their hands with admiration, to think what it was I had killed\nhim with.\nThe other creature, frightened with the flash of fire and the noise of\nthe gun, swam on shore, and ran up directly to the mountains from\nwhence they came; nor could I, at that distance, know what it was. I\nfound quickly the Negroes were for eating the flesh of this creature, so\nI was willing to have them take it as a favour from me; which, when I\nmade signs to them that they might take him, they were very thankful\nfor. Immediately they fell to work with him; and though they had no\nknife, yet, with a sharpened piece of wood, they took off his skin as\nreadily, and much more readily, than we could have done with a knife.\nThey offered me some of the flesh, which I declined, making as if I\nwould give it them, but made signs for the skin, which they gave me very\nfreely, and brought me a great deal more of their provisions, which,\nthough I did not understand, yet I accepted. I then made signs to them\nfor some water, and held out one of my jars to them, turning it bottom\nupward, to show that it was empty, and that I wanted to have it filled.\nThey called immediately to some of their friends, and there came two\nwomen, and brought a great vessel made of earth, and burnt, as I\nsuppose, in the sun; this they set down to me, as before, and I sent\nXury on shore with my jars, and filled them all three. The women were as\nstark naked as the men.\nI was now furnished with roots and corn, such as it was, and water; and\nleaving my friendly Negroes, I made forward for about eleven days more,\nwithout offering to go near the shore, till I saw the land run out a\ngreat length into the sea, at about the distance of four or five leagues\nbefore me; and the sea being very calm, I kept a large offing, to make\nthis point. At length, doubling the point, at about two leagues from\nthe land, I saw plainly land on the other side, to seaward: then I\nconcluded, as it was most certain indeed, that this was the Cape de\nVerd, and those the islands, called, from thence, Cape de Verd Islands.\nHowever, they were at a great distance, and I could not well tell what I\nhad best to do; for if I should be taken with a gale of wind, I might\nneither reach one nor the other.\nIn this dilemma, as I was very pensive, I stepped into the cabin, and\nsat me down, Xury having the helm; when, on a sudden, the boy cried out,\nMaster, master, a ship with a sail! and the foolish boy was frightened\nout of his wits, thinking it must needs be some of his master's ships\nsent to pursue us, when I knew we were gotten far enough out of their\nreach. I jumped out of the cabin, and immediately saw, not only the\nship, but what she was, viz. that it was a Portuguese ship, and, as I\nthought, was bound to the coast of Guinea, for Negroes. But, when I\nobserved the course she steered, I was soon convinced they were bound\nsome other way, and did not design to come any nearer to the shore: upon\nwhich, I stretched out to sea as much as I could, resolving to speak\nwith them, if possible.\nWith all the sail I could make, I found I should not be able to come in\ntheir way, but that they would be gone by before I could make any signal\nto them: but after I had crowded to the utmost, and began to despair,\nthey, it seems, saw me, by the help of their perspective glasses, and\nthat it was some European boat, which, they supposed, must belong to\nsome ship that was lost; so they shortened sail, to let me come up. I\nwas encouraged with this, and as I had my patron's ensign on board, I\nmade a waft of it to them, for a signal of distress, and fired a gun,\nboth which they saw; for they told me they saw the smoke, though they\ndid not hear the gun. Upon these signals, they very kindly brought to,\nand lay by for me; and in about three hours' time I came up with them.\nThey asked me what I was, in Portuguese, and in Spanish, and in French,\nbut I understood none of them; but, at last, a Scotch sailor, who was on\nboard, called to me, and I answered him, and told him I was an\nEnglishman, that I had made my escape out of slavery from the Moors, at\nSallee: they then bade me come on board, and very kindly took me in, and\nall my goods.\nIt was an inexpressible joy to me, which any one will believe, that I\nwas thus delivered, as I esteemed it, from such a miserable, and almost\nhopeless, condition as I was in; and I immediately offered all I had to\nthe captain of the ship, as a return for my deliverance; but he\ngenerously told me, he would take nothing from me, but that all I had\nshould be delivered safe to me, when I came to the Brazils. \"For,\" says\nhe, \"I have saved your life on no other terms than I would be glad to be\nsaved myself; and it may, one time or other, be my lot to be taken up in\nthe same condition. Besides,\" continued he, \"when I carry you to the\nBrazils, so great a way from your own country, if I should take from you\nwhat you have, you will be starved there, and then I only take away that\nlife I have given. No, no, Seignior Inglese,\" (Mr. Englishman,) says he;\n\"I will carry you thither in charity, and these things will help to buy\nyour subsistence there, and your passage home again.\"\nAs he was charitable, in this proposal, so he was just in the\nperformance, to a tittle; for he ordered the seamen, that none should\noffer to touch any thing I had: then he took every thing into his own\npossession, and gave me back an exact inventory of them, that I might\nhave them, even so much as my three earthen jars.\nAs to my boat, it was a very good one; and that he saw, and told me he\nwould buy it of me for the ship's use; and asked me what I would have\nfor it? I told him, he had been so generous to me in every thing, that I\ncould not offer to make any price of the boat, but left it entirely to\nhim: upon which, he told me he would give me a note of hand to pay me\neighty pieces of eight for it at Brazil; and when it came there, if any\none offered to give more, he would make it up. He offered me also sixty\npieces of eight more for my boy Xury, which I was loth to take; not that\nI was not willing to let the captain have him, but I was very loth to\nsell the poor boy's liberty, who had assisted me so faithfully in\nprocuring my own. However, when I let him know my reason, he owned it to\nbe just, and offered me this medium, that he would give the boy an\nobligation to set him free in ten years, if he turned Christian: upon\nthis, and Xury saying he was willing to go to him, I let the\ncaptain have him.\nWe had a very good voyage to the Brazils, and arrived in the Bay de\nTodos los Santos, or All Saints' Bay, in about twenty-two days after.\nAnd now I was once more delivered from the most miserable of all\nconditions of life; and what to do next with myself, I was now\nto consider.\nThe generous treatment the captain gave me, I can never enough remember:\nhe would take nothing of me for my passage, gave me twenty ducats for\nthe leopard's skin, and forty for the lion's skin, which I had in my\nboat, and caused every thing I had in the ship to be punctually\ndelivered to me; and what I was willing to sell, he bought of me; such\nas the case of bottles, two of my guns, and a piece of the lump of\nbees-wax,--for I had made candles of the rest: in a word, I made about\ntwo hundred and twenty pieces of eight of all my cargo; and with this\nstock, I went on shore in the Brazils.\nI had not been long here, before I was recommended to the house of a\ngood honest man, like himself, who had an ingeino as they call it, (that\nis, a plantation and a sugar-house.) I lived with him some time, and\nacquainted myself, by that means, with the manner of planting and making\nof sugar: and seeing how well the planters lived, and how they got rich\nsuddenly, I resolved, if I could get a licence to settle there, I would\nturn planter among them: endeavouring, in the mean time, to find out\nsome way to get my money, which I had left in London, remitted to me. To\nthis purpose, getting a kind of a letter of naturalization, I purchased\nas much land that was uncured as my money would reach, and formed a plan\nfor my plantation and settlement; such a one as might be suitable to the\nstock which I proposed to myself to receive from England.\nI had a neighbour, a Portuguese of Lisbon, but: born of English parents,\nwhose name was Wells, and in much such circumstances as I was. I call\nhim my neighbour, because his plantation lay next to mine, and we went\non very sociably together. My stock was but low, as well as his; and we\nrather planted for food than any thing else, for about two years.\nHowever, we began to increase, and our land began to come into order; so\nthat Ihe third year we planted some tobacco, and made each of us a large\npiece of ground ready for planting canes in the year to come: but we\nboth wanted help; and now I found, more than before, I had done wrong in\nparting with my boy Xury.\nBut, alas! for me to do wrong, that never did right, was no great\nwonder. I had no remedy, but to go on: I had got into an employment\nquite remote to my genius, and directly contrary to the life I delighted\nin, and for which I forsook my father's house, and broke through all his\ngood advice: nay, I was coining into the very middle station, or upper\ndegree of low life, which my father advised me to before; and which, if\nI resolved to go on with, I might as well have staid at home, and never\nhave fatigued myself in the world, as I had done: and I used often to\nsay to myself, I could have done this as well in England, among my\nfriends, as have gone five thousand miles off to do it among strangers\nand savages, in a wilderness, and at such a distance as never to hear\nfrom any part of the world that had the least knowledge of me.\nIn this manner, I used to look upon my condition with the utmost regret.\nI had nobody to converse with, but now and then this neighbour; no work\nto be done, but by the labour of my hands: and I used to say, I lived\njust like a man cast away upon some desolate island, that had nobody\nthere but himself. But how just has it been! and how should all men\nreflect, that when they compare their present conditions with others\nthat are worse, Heaven may oblige them to make the exchange, and be\nconvinced of their former felicity by their experience: I say, how just\nhas it been, that the truly solitary life I reflected on, in an island\nof mere desolation, should be my lot, who had so often unjustly compared\nit with the life which I then led, in which, had I continued, I had, in\nall probability, been exceeding prosperous and rich.\nI was, in some degree, settled in my measures for carrying on the\nplantation, before my kind friend, the captain of the ship that took me\nup at sea, went back; for the ship remained there, in providing his\nlading, and preparing for his voyage, near three months; when, telling\nhim what little stock I had left behind me in London, he gave me this\nfriendly and sincere advice: \"Seignior Inglese,\" says he, for so he\nalways called me, \"if you will give me letters, and a procuration here\nin form to me, with orders to the person who has your money in London,\nto send your effects to Lisbon, to such persons as I shall direct, and\nin such goods as are proper for this country, I will bring you the\nproduce of them, God willing, at my return; but, since human affairs are\nall subject to changes and disasters, I would have you give orders for\nbut one hundred pounds sterling, which, you say, is half your stock, and\nlet the hazard be run for the first, so that if it come safe, you may\norder the rest the same way; and, if it miscarry, you may have the other\nhalf to have recourse to for your supply.\"\nThis was so wholesome advice, and looked so friendly, that I could not\nbut be convinced it was the best course I could take; so I accordingly\nprepared letters to the gentlewoman with whom I left my money, and a\nprocuration to the Portuguese captain, as he desired me.\nI wrote the English captain's widow a full account of all my adventures;\nmy slavery, escape, and how I had met with the Portuguese captain at\nsea, the humanity of his behaviour, and what condition I was now in,\nwith all other necessary directions for my supply; and when this honest\ncaptain came to Lisbon, he found means, by some of the English merchants\nthere, to send over, not the order only, but a full account of my story\nto a merchant at London, who represented it effectually to her:\nwhereupon she not only delivered the money, but, out of her own pocket,\nsent the Portuguese captain a very handsome present for his humanity and\ncharity to me.\nThe merchant in London, vesting this hundred pounds in English goods,\nsuch as the captain had wrote for, sent them directly to him at Lisbon,\nand he brought them all safe to me at the Brazils: among which, without\nmy direction, (for I was too young in my business to think of them,) he\nhad taken care to have all sorts of tools, iron work, and utensils,\nnecessary for my plantation, and which were of great use to me.\nWhen this cargo arrived, I thought my fortune made, for I was surprised\nwith the joy of it; and my good steward, the captain, had laid out the\nfive pounds, which my friend had sent him as a present for himself, to\npurchase and bring me over a servant, under bond for six years' service,\nand would not accept of any consideration, except a little tobacco,\nwhich I would have him accept, being of my own produce.\nNeither was this all: but my goods being all English manufactures, such\nas cloths, stuffs, baize, and things particularly valuable and desirable\nin the country, I found means to sell them to a very great advantage; so\nthat I might say, I had more than four times the value of my first\ncargo, and was now infinitely beyond my poor neighbour, I mean in the\nadvancement of my plantation: for the first thing I did, I bought me a\nNegro slave, and ail European servant also; I mean another besides that\nwhich the captain brought me from Lisbon.\nBut as abused prosperity is oftentimes made the very means of our\nadversity, so was it with me. I went on the next year with great success\nin my plantation; I raised fifty great rolls of tobacco on my own\nground, more than I had disposed of for necessaries among my neighbours;\nand these fifty rolls, being each of above a hundred weight, were well\ncured, and laid by against the return of the fleet from Lisbon: and now,\nincreasing in business and in wealth, my head began to be full of\nprojects and undertakings beyond my reach; such as are, indeed, often\nthe ruin of the best heads in business. Had I continued in the station\nI was now in, I had room for all the happy things to have yet befallen\nme, for which my father so earnestly recommended a quiet, retired life,\nand which he had so sensibly described the middle station of life to be\nfull of: but other things attended me, and I was still to be the wilful\nagent of all my own miseries; and, particularly, to increase my fault,\nand double the reflections upon myself, which in my future sorrows I\nshould have leisure to make, all these miscarriages were procured by my\napparent obstinate adhering to my foolish inclination, of wandering\nabout, and pursuing that inclination, in contradiction to the clearest\nviews of doing myself good in a fair and plain pursuit of those\nprospects, and those measures of life, which nature and Providence\nconcurred to present me with, and to make my duty.\nAs I had once done thus in breaking away from my parents, so I could not\nbe content now, but I must go and leave the happy view I had of being a\nrich and thriving man in my new plantation, only to pursue a rash and\nimmoderate desire of rising faster than the nature of the thing\nadmitted; and thus I cast myself down again into the deepest gulph of\nhuman misery that ever man fell into, or perhaps could be consistent\nwith life, and a state of health in the world.\nTo come, then, by just degrees, to the particulars of this part of my\nstory:--You may suppose, that having now lived almost four years in the\nBrazils, and beginning to thrive and prosper very well upon my\nplantation, I had not only learned the language, but had contracted an\nacquaintance and friendship among my fellow-planters, as well as among\nthe merchants at St. Salvador, which was our port; and that, in my\ndiscourses among them, I had frequently given them an account of my two\nvoyages to the coast of Guinea, the manner of trading with the Negroes\nthere, and how easy it was to purchase on the coast for trifles--such\nas beads, toys, knives, scissars, hatchets, bits of glass, and the\nlike--not only gold dust, Guinea grains, elephants' teeth, &c. but\nNegroes, for the service of the Brazils, in great numbers.\nThey listened always very attentively to my discourses on these heads,\nbut especially to that part which related to the buying Negroes; which\nwas a trade, at that time, not only not far entered into, but, as far as\nit was, had been carried on by the assientos, or permission of the kings\nof Spain and Portugal, and engrossed from the public; so that few\nNegroes were bought, and those excessive dear.\nIt happened, being in company with some merchants and planters of my\nacquaintance, and talking of those things very earnestly, three of them\ncame to me the next morning, and told me they had been musing very much\nupon what I had discoursed with them of the last night, and they came to\nmake a secret proposal to me: and, after enjoining me to secrecy, they\ntold me that they had a mind to fit out a ship to go to Guinea; that\nthey had all plantations as well as I, and were straitened for nothing\nso much as servants; that as it was a trade that could not be carried\non, because they could not publicly sell the Negroes when they came\nhome, so they desired to make but one voyage, to bring the Negroes on\nshore privately, and divide them among their own plantations: and, in a\nword, the question was, whether I would go their supercargo in the ship,\nto manage the trading part upon the coast of Guinea; and they offered me\nthat I should have an equal share of the Negroes, without providing any\npart of the stock.\nThis was a fair proposal, it must be confessed, had it been made to any\none that had not a settlement and plantation of his own to look after,\nwhich was in a fair way of coming to be very considerable, and with a\ngood stock upon it. But for me, that was thus entered and established,\nand had nothing to do but go on as I had begun, for three or four years\nmore, and to have sent for the other hundred pounds from England; and\nwho, in that time, and with that little addition, could scarce have\nfailed of being worth three or four thousand pounds sterling, and that\nincreasing too; for me to think of such a voyage, was the most\npreposterous thing that ever man, in such circumstances, could be\nguilty of.\nBut I, that was born to be my own destroyer, could no more resist the\noffer, than I could restrain my first rambling designs, when my father's\ngood counsel was lost upon me. In a word, I told them I would go with\nall my heart, if they would undertake to look after my plantation in my\nabsence, and would dispose of it to such as I should direct, if I\nmiscarried. This they all engaged to do, and entered into writings or\ncovenants to do so; and I made a formal will, disposing of my plantation\nand effects, in case of my death; making the captain of the ship that\nhad saved my life, as before, my universal heir; but obliging him to\ndispose of my effects as I had directed in my will; one half of the\nproduce being to himself, and the other to be shipped to England.\nIn short, I took all possible caution to preserve my effects, and to\nkeep up my plantation: had I used half as much prudence to have looked\ninto my own interest, and have made a judgment of what I ought to have\ndone and not to have done I had certainly never gone away from so\nprosperous an undertaking, leaving all the probable views of a thriving\ncircumstance, and gone a voyage to sea, attended with all its common\nhazards, to say nothing of the reasons I had to expect particular\nmisfortunes to myself.\nBut I was hurried on, and obeyed blindly the dictates of my fancy,\nrather than my reason: and accordingly, the ship being fitted out, and\nthe cargo furnished, and all things done as by agreement, by my partners\nin the voyage, I went on board in an evil hour again, the 1st of\nSeptember, 1659, being the same day eight years that I went from my\nfather and mother at Hull, in order to act the rebel to their authority,\nand the fool to my own interest.\nOur ship was about one hundred and twenty tons burden, carried six guns,\nand fourteen men, besides the master, his boy, and myself; we had on\nboard no large cargo of goods, except of such toys as were fit for our\ntrade with the Negroes, such as beads, bits of glass, shells, and odd\ntrifles, especially little looking-glasses, knives, scissars, hatchets,\nand the like.\nThe same day I went on board we set sail, standing away to the northward\nupon our own coast, with design to stretch over for the African coast.\nWhen they came about ten or twelve degrees of northern latitude, which,\nit seems, was the manner of their course in those days, we had very good\nweather, only excessive hot all the way upon our own coast, till we came\nto the height of Cape St. Augustino; from whence, keeping farther off at\nsea, we lost sight of land, and steered as if we were bound for the isle\nFernando de Noronha, holding our course N.E. by N. and leaving those\nisles on the east. In this course we passed the line in about twelve\ndays' time, and were by our last observation, in 7 degrees 22 minutes\nnorthern latitude, when a violent tornado, or hurricane, took us quite\nout of our knowledge: it began from the south-east, came about to the\nnorth-west, and then settled in the north-east; from whence it blew in\nsuch a terrible manner, that for twelve days together we could do\nnothing but drive, and, scudding away before it, let it carry us whither\never fate and the fury of the winds directed; and, during these twelve\ndays, I need not say that I expected every day to be swallowed up; nor,\nindeed, did any in the ship expect to save their lives.\nIn this distress, we had, besides the terror of the storm, one of our\nmen died of the calenture, and one man and a boy washed overboard. About\nthe twelfth day, the weather abating a little, the master made an\nobservation as well as he could, and found that he was in about 11\ndegrees north latitude, but that he was 22 degrees of longitude\ndifference, west from Cape St. Augustino; so that he found he was got\nupon the coast of Guiana, or the north part of Brazil, beyond the river\nAmazons, toward that of the river Oroonoque, commonly called the Great\nRiver; and began to consult with me what course he should take, for the\nship was leaky and very much disabled, add he was going directly back to\nthe coast of Brazil.\nI was positively against that; and looking over the charts of the\nsea-coast of America with him, we concluded there was no inhabited\ncountry for us to have recourse to, till we came within the circle of\nthe Caribbee islands, and therefore resolved to stand away for\nBarbadoes; which by keeping off to sea, to avoid the in-draft of the bay\nor gulf of Mexico, we might easily perform, as we hoped, in about\nfifteen days' sail; whereas we could not possibly make our voyage to the\ncoast of Africa without some assistance, both to our ship and ourselves.\nWith this design, we changed our course, and steered away N.W. by W. in\norder to reach some of our English islands, where I hoped for relief:\nbut our voyage was otherwise determined; for being in the latitude of 12\ndegrees 18 minutes, a second storm came upon us, which carried us away\nwith the same impetuosity westward, and drove us so out of the very way\nof all human commerce, that had all our lives been saved, as to the sea,\nwe were rather in danger of being devoured by savages than ever\nreturning to our own country.\nIn this distress, the wind still blowing very hard, one of our men early\nin the morning cried out, Land! and we had no sooner run out of the\ncabin to look out, in hopes of seeing whereabouts in the world we were,\nbut the ship struck upon a sand, and in a moment, her motion being so\nstopped, the sea broke over her in such a manner, that we expected we\nshould all have perished immediately; and we were immediately driven\ninto our close quarters, to shelter us from the very foam and spray\nof the sea.\nIt is not easy for any one, who has not been in the like condition, to\ndescribe or conceive the consternation of men in such circumstances; we\nknew nothing where we were, or upon what land it was we were driven,\nwhether an island or the main, whether inhabited or not inhabited; and\nas the rage of the wind was still great, though rather less than at\nfirst, we could not so much as hope to have the ship hold many minutes,\nwithout breaking in pieces, unless the wind, by a kind of miracle,\nshould immediately turn about. In a word, we sat looking upon one\nanother, and expecting death every moment, and every man acting\naccordingly, as preparing for another world; for there was little or\nnothing more for us to do in this: that which was our present comfort,\nand all the comfort we had, was, that, contrary to our expectation, the\nship did not break yet, and that the master said the wind began\nto abate.\nNow, though we thought that the wind did a little abate, yet the ship\nhaving thus struck upon the sand, and sticking too fast for us to expect\nher getting off, we were in a dreadful condition indeed, and had nothing\nto do but to think of saving our lives as well as we could. We had a\nboat at our stern just before the storm, but she was first staved by\ndashing against the ship's rudder, and, in the next place, she broke\naway, and either sunk, or was driven off to sea; so there was no hope\nfrom her: we had another boat on board, but how to get her off into the\nsea was a doubtful thing; however, there was no room to debate, for we\nfancied the ship would break in pieces every minute, and some told us\nshe was actually broken already.\nIn this distress, the mate of our vessel laid hold of the boat, and with\nthe help of the rest of the men, they got her flung over the ship's\nside; and getting all into her, let her go, and committed ourselves,\nbeing eleven in number, to God's mercy, and the wild sea: for though the\nstorm was abated considerably, yet the sea went dreadful high upon the\nshore, and might be well called _den wild zee_, as the Dutch call the\nsea in a storm.\nAnd now our case was very dismal indeed; for we all saw plainly, that\nthe sea went so high, that the boat could not live, and that we should\nbe inevitably drowned. As to making sail, we had none; nor, if we had,\ncould we have done any thing with it; so we worked at the oar towards\nthe land, though with heavy hearts, like men going to execution; for we\nall knew that when the boat came nearer to the shore, she would be\ndashed in a thousand pieces by the breach of the sea. However, we\ncommitted our souls to God in the most earnest manner; and the wind\ndriving us towards the shore, we hastened our destruction with our own\nhands, pulling as well as we could towards land.\nWhat the shore was--whether rock or sand, whether steep or shoal--we\nknew not; the only hope that could rationally give us the least shadow\nof expectation, was, if we might happen into some bay or gulf, or the\nmouth of some river, where by great chance we might have run our boat\nin, or got under the lee of the land, and perhaps made smooth water. But\nthere was nothing of this appeared; and as we made nearer and nearer the\nshore, the land looked more frightful than the sea.\nAfter we had rowed, or rather driven, about a league and a half, as we\nreckoned it, a raging wave, mountain-like, came rolling astern of us,\nand plainly bade us expect the _coup de grace_. In a word, it took us\nwith such a fury, that it overset the boat at once; and separating us,\nas well from the boat as from one another, gave us not time hardly to\nsay, \"O God!\" for we were all swallowed up in a moment.\nNothing can describe the confusion of thought which I felt, when I sunk\ninto the water; for though I swam very well, yet I could not deliver\nmyself from the waves so as to draw my breath, till that wave having\ndriven me, or rather carried me, a vast way on towards the shore, and\nhaving spent itself, went back, and left me upon the land almost dry,\nbut half dead with the water I took in. I had so much presence of mind,\nas well as breath left, that seeing myself nearer the main land than I\nexpected, I got upon my feet, and endeavoured to make on towards the\nland as fast as I could, before another wave should return and take me\nup again; but I soon found it was impossible to avoid it; for I saw the\nsea come after me as high as a great hill, and as furious as an enemy,\nwhich I had no means or strength to contend with: my business was to\nhold my breath, and raise myself upon the water, if I could; and so, by\nswimming, to preserve my breathing, and pilot myself towards the shore,\nif possible; my greatest concern now being, that the wave, as it would\ncarry me a great way towards the shore when it came on, might not carry\nme back again with it when it gave back towards the sea.\nThe wave that came upon me again, buried me at once twenty or thirty\nfeet deep in its own body; and I could feel myself carried with a mighty\nforce and swiftness towards the shore a very great way; but I held my\nbreath, and assisted myself to swim still forward with all my might. I\nwas ready to burst with holding my breath, when, as I felt myself rising\nup, so, to my immediate relief, I found my head and hands shoot out\nabove the surface of the water; and though it was not two seconds of\ntime that I could keep myself so, yet it relieved me greatly, gave me\nbreath, and new courage. I was covered again with water a good while,\nbut not so long but I held it out; and finding the water had spent\nitself, and began to return, I struck forward against the return of the\nwaves, and felt ground again with my feet. I stood still a few moments,\nto recover breath, and till the water went from me, and then took to my\nheels, and ran with what strength I had farther towards the shore. But\nneither would this deliver me from the fury of the sea, which came\npouring in after me again; and twice more I was lifted up by the waves\nand carried forwards as before, the shore being very flat.\nThe last time of these two had well nigh been fatal to me; for the sea\nhaving hurried me along, as before, landed me, or rather dashed me,\nagainst a piece of a rock, and that with such force, that it left me\nsenseless, and indeed helpless, as to my own deliverance; for the blow\ntaking my side and breast, beat the breath, as it were, quite out of my\nbody; and had it returned again immediately, I must have been strangled\nin the water: but I recovered a little before the return of the waves,\nand seeing I should again be covered with the water, I resolved to hold\nfast by a piece of the rock, and so to hold my breath, if possible, till\nthe wave went back. Now as the waves were not so high as the first,\nbeing nearer land, I held my hold till the wave abated, and then fetched\nanother run, which brought me so near the shore, that the next wave,\nthough it went over me, yet did not so swallow me up as to carry me\naway; and the next run I took, I got to the main land; where, to my\ngreat comfort, I clambered up the cliffs of the shore, and sat me down\nupon the grass, free from danger, and quite out of the reach of\nthe water.\nI was now landed, and safe on shore, and began to look up and thank God\nthat my life was saved, in a case wherein there were, some minutes\nbefore, scarce any room to hope. I believe it is impossible to express,\nto the life, what the ecstasies and transports of the soul are, when it\nis so saved, as I may say, out of the grave: and I did not wonder now at\nthe custom, viz. that when a malefactor, who has the halter about his\nneck, is tied up, and just going to be turned off, and has a reprieve\nbrought to him; I say, I do not wonder that they bring a surgeon with\nit, to let him blood that very moment they tell him of it, that the\nsurprise may not drive the animal spirits from the heart, and\noverwhelm him.\n     For sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first.\nI walked about on the shore, lifting up my hands, and my whole being, as\nI may say, wrapt up in the contemplation of my deliverance; making a\nthousand gestures and motions, which I cannot describe; reflecting upon\nmy comrades that were drowned, and that there should not be one soul\nsaved but myself; for, as for them, I never saw them afterwards, or any\nsign of them, except three of their hats, one cap, and two shoes that\nwere not fellows.\nI cast my eyes to the stranded vessel--when the breach and froth of the\nsea being so big I could hardly see it, it lay so far off--and\nconsidered, Lord! how was it possible I could get on shore?\nAfter I had solaced my mind with the comfortable part of my condition, I\nbegan to look round me, to see what kind of a place I was in, and what\nwas next to be done; and I soon found my comforts abate, and that, in a\nword, I had a dreadful deliverance: for I was wet, had no clothes to\nshift me, nor any thing either to eat or drink, to comfort me; neither\ndid I see any prospect before me, but that of perishing with hunger, or\nbeing devoured by wild beasts: and that which was particularly\nafflicting to me was, that I had no weapon, either to hunt and kill any\ncreature for my sustenance, or to defend myself against any other\ncreature that might desire to kill me for theirs. In a word, I had\nnothing about me but a knife, a tobacco-pipe, and a little tobacco in a\nbox. This was all my provision; and this threw me into such terrible\nagonies of mind, that, for a while, I ran about like a madman. Night\ncoming upon me, I began, with a heavy heart, to consider what would be\nmy lot if there were any ravenous beasts in that country, seeing at\nnight they always come abroad for their prey.\nAll the remedy that offered to my thoughts; at that time, was, to get up\ninto a thick bushy tree, like a fir, but thorny--which grew near me, and\nwhere I resolved to sit all night--and consider the next day what death\nI should die, for as yet I saw no prospect of life. I walked about a\nfurlong from the shore, to see if I could find any fresh water to drink,\nwhich I did, to my great joy; and having drank, and put a little\ntobacco into my mouth to prevent hunger, I went to the tree, and getting\nup into it, endeavoured to place myself so, as that if I should fall\nasleep, I might not fall; and having cut me a short stick, like a\ntruncheon, for my defence, I took up my lodging; and having been\nexcessively fatigued, I fell fast asleep, and slept as comfortably as, I\nbelieve, few could have done in my condition; and found myself the most\nrefreshed with it that I think I ever was on such an occasion.\nWhen I waked it was broad day, the weather clear, and the storm abated,\nso that the sea did not rage and swell as before; but that which\nsurprised me most was, that the ship was lifted off in the night from\nthe sand where she lay, by the swelling of the tide, and was driven up\nalmost as far as the rock which I at first mentioned, where I had been\nso bruised by the wave dashing me against it. This being within about a\nmile from the shore where I was, and the ship seeming to stand upright\nstill, I wished myself on board, that at least I might save some\nnecessary things for my use.\nWhen I came down from my apartment in the tree, I looked about me again,\nand the first thing I found was the boat; which lay, as the wind and the\nsea had tossed her up, upon the land, about two miles on my right hand.\nI walked as far as I could upon the shore to have got to her; but found\na neck, or inlet, of water between me and the boat, which was about half\na mile broad; so I came back for the present, being more intent upon\ngetting at the ship, where I hoped to find something for my present\nsubsistence.\nA little after noon, I found the sea very calm, and the tide ebbed so\nfar out, that I could come within a quarter of a mile of the ship: and\nhere I found a fresh renewing of my grief; for I saw evidently, that if\nwe had kept on board, we had been all safe; that is to say, we had all\ngot safe on shore, and I had not been so miserable as to be left\nentirely destitute of all comfort and company, as I now was. This forced\ntears from my eyes again; but as there was little relief in that, I\nresolved, if possible, to get to the ship; so I pulled off my clothes,\nfor the weather was hot to extremity, and took the water; but when I\ncame to the ship, my difficulty was still greater to know how to get on\nboard; for as she lay aground, and high out of the water, there was\nnothing within my reach to lay hold of. I swam round her twice, and the\nsecond time I spied a small piece of a rope, which I wondered I did not\nsee at first, hang down by the fore-chains so low, as that with great\ndifficulty, I got hold of it, and by the help of that rope got into the\nforecastle of the ship. Here I found that the ship was bulged, and had a\ngreat deal of water in her hold; but that she lay so on the side of a\nbank of hard sand, or rather earth, that her stern lay lifted up upon\nthe bank, and her head low, almost to the water. By this means all her\nquarter was free, and all that was in that part was dry; for you may be\nsure my first work was to search and to see what was spoiled and what\nwas free: and, first, I found that all the ship's provisions were dry\nand untouched by the water; and, being very well disposed to eat, I went\nto the bread-room, and filled my pockets with biscuit, and eat it as I\nwent about other things, for I had no time to lose. I also found some\nrum in the great cabin, of which I took a large dram, and which I had\nindeed need enough of, to spirit me for what was before me. Now I wanted\nnothing but a boat, to furnish myself with many things which I foresaw\nwould be very necessary to me.\nIt was in vain to sit still and wish for what was not to be had, and\nthis extremity roused my application: we had several spare yards, and\ntwo or three large spars of wood, and a spare top-mast or two in the\nship; I resolved to fall to work with these, and flung as many overboard\nas I could manage for their weight, tying every one with a rope, that\nthey might not drive away. When this was done, I went down the ship's\nside, and pulling them to me, I tied four of them fast together at both\nends, as well as I could, in the form of a raft, and laying two or three\nshort pieces of plank upon them, crossways, I found I could walk upon it\nvery well, but that it was not able to bear any great weight, the pieces\nbeing too light: so I went to work, and with the carpenter's saw I cut a\nspare top-mast into three lengths, and added them to my raft, with a\ngreat deal of labour and pains. But the hope of furnishing myself with\nnecessaries, encouraged me to go beyond what I should have been able to\nhave done upon another occasion.\nMy raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable weight. My next\ncare was what to load it with, and how to preserve what I laid upon it\nfrom the surf of the sea; but I was not long considering this. I first\nlaid all the planks or boards upon it that I could get, and having\nconsidered well what I most wanted, I got three of the seamen's chests,\nwhich I had broken open and emptied, and lowered them down upon my raft;\nthese I filled with provisions, viz. bread, rice, three Dutch cheeses,\nfive pieces of dried goats' flesh, (which we lived much upon,) and a\nlittle remainder of European corn, which had been laid by for some fowls\nwhich we had brought to sea with us, but the fowls were killed. There\nhad been some barley and wheat together, but, to my great\ndisappointment, I found afterwards that the rats had eaten or spoiled it\nall. As for liquors, I found several cases of bottles belonging to our\nskipper, in which were some cordial waters; and, in all, about five or\nsix gallons of rack. These I stowed by themselves, there being no need\nto put them into the chests, nor any room for them. While I was doing\nthis, I found the tide began to flow, though very calm; and I had the\nmortification to see my coat, shirt, and waistcoat, which I had left on\nshore, upon the sand, swim away; as for my breeches, which were only\nlinen, and open-knee'd, I swam on board in them, and my stockings.\nHowever, this put me upon rummaging for clothes, of which I found\nenough, but took no more than I wanted for present use, for I had other\nthings which my eye was more upon; as, first, tools to work with on\nshore and it was after long searching that I found the carpenter's\nchest, which was indeed a very useful prize to me, and much more\nvaluable than a ship-lading of gold would have been at that time. I got\nit down to my raft, even whole as it was, without losing time to look\ninto it, for I knew in general what it contained.\nMy next care was for some ammunition and arms. There were two very good\nfowling-pieces in the great cabin, and two pistols; these I secured\nfirst, with some powder-horns and a small bag of shot, and two old rusty\nswords. I knew there were three barrels of powder in the ship, but knew\nnot where our gunner had stowed them; but with much search I found them,\ntwo of them dry and good, the third had taken water. Those two I got to\nmy raft, with the arms. And now I thought myself pretty well freighted,\nand began to think how I should get to shore with them, having neither\nsail, oar, nor rudder; and the least cap-full of wind would have overset\nall my navigation.\nI had three encouragements: 1st, A smooth, calm sea: 2dly, The tide\nrising, and setting in to the shore: 3dly, What little wind there was,\nblew me towards the land. And thus, having found two or three broken\noars belonging to the boat, and besides the tools which were in the\nchest, I found two saws, an axe, and a hammer; and with this cargo I put\nto sea. For a mile, or thereabouts, my raft went very well, only that I\nfound it drive a little distant from the place where I had landed\nbefore; by which I perceived that there was some indraft of the water,\nand consequently I hoped to find some creek or river there, which I\nmight make use of as a port to get to land with my cargo.\nAs I imagined, so it was: there appeared before me a little opening of\nthe land, and I found a strong current of the tide set into it; so I\nguided my raft, as well as I could, to get into the middle of the\nstream. But here I had like to have suffered a second shipwreck, which,\nif I had, I think verily would have broken my heart; for knowing nothing\nof the coast, my raft ran aground at one end of it upon a shoal, and not\nbeing aground at the other end, it wanted but a little that all my cargo\nhad slipped off towards that end that was afloat, and so fallen into the\nwater. I did my utmost, by setting my back against the chests, to keep\nthem in their places, but could not thrust off the raft with all my\nstrength; neither durst I stir from the posture I was in, but holding up\nthe chests with all my might, I stood in that manner near half an hour,\nin which time the rising of the water brought me a little more upon a\nlevel; and a little after, the water still rising, my raft floated\nagain, and I thrust her off with the oar I had into the channel, and\nthen driving up higher, I at length found myself in the mouth of a\nlittle river, with land on both sides, and a strong current or tide\nrunning up. I looked on both sides for a proper place to get to shore,\nfor I was not willing to be driven too high up the river; hoping, in\ntime, to see some ship at sea, and therefore resolved to place myself as\nnear the coast as I could.\nAt length I spied a little cove on the right shore of the creek, to\nwhich, with great pain and difficulty, I guided my raft, and at last got\nso near, as that reaching ground with my oar, I could thrust her\ndirectly in; but here I had like to have dipped all my cargo into the\nsea again; for that shore lying pretty steep, that is to say, sloping,\nthere was no place to land, but where one end of my float, if it ran on\nshore, would lie so high, and the other sink lower, as before, that it\nwould endanger my cargo again. All that I could do, was to wait till the\ntide was at the highest, keeping the raft with my oar like an anchor, to\nhold the side of it fast to the shore, near a flat piece of ground,\nwhich I expected the water would flow over; and so it did. As soon as I\nfound water enough, for my raft drew about a foot of water, I thrust her\nupon that flat piece of ground, and there fastened or moored her, by\nsticking my two broken oars into the ground; one on one-side, near one\nend, and one on the other side, near the other end: and thus I lay till\nthe water ebbed away, and left my raft and all my cargo safe on shore.\nMy next work was to view the country, and seek a proper place for my\nhabitation, and where to stow my goods, to secure them from whatever\nmight happen. Where I was, I yet knew not; whether on the continent, or\non an island; whether inhabited, or not inhabited; whether in danger of\nwild beasts, or not. There was a hill, not above a mile from me, which\nrose up very steep and high, and which seemed to overtop some other\nhills, which lay as in a ridge from it, northward. I took out one of the\nfowling-pieces, and one of the pistols, and a horn of powder; and thus\narmed, I travelled for discovery up to the top of that hill; where,\nafter I had, with great labour and difficulty, got up to the top, I saw\nmy fate, to my great affliction, viz. that I was in an island, environed\nevery way with the sea, no land to be seen, except some rocks, which lay\na great way off, and two small islands, less than this, which lay about\nthree leagues to the west.\nI found also that the island I was in was barren, and, as I saw good\nreason to believe, uninhabited, except by wild beasts, of whom, however,\nI saw none; yet I saw abundance of fowls, but knew not their kinds;\nneither, when I killed them, could I tell what was fit for food, and\nwhat not. At my coming back, I shot at a great bird, which I saw sitting\nupon a tree, on the side of a great wood. I believe it was the first gun\nthat had been fired there since the creation of the world: I had no\nsooner fired, but from all the parts of the wood there arose an\ninnumerable number of fowls, of many sorts, making a confused screaming,\nand crying, every one according to his usual note; but not one of them\nof any kind that I knew. As for the creature I killed, I took it to be a\nkind of a hawk, its colour and beak resembling it, but had no talons or\nclaws more than common. Its flesh was carrion, and fit for nothing.\nContented with this discovery, I came back to my raft, and fell to work\nto bring my cargo on shore, which took me up the rest of that day: what\nto do with myself at night I knew not, nor indeed where to rest: for I\nwas afraid to lie down on the ground, not knowing but some wild beast\nmight devour me; though, as I afterwards found, there was really no need\nfor those fears.\nHowever, as well as I could, I barricadoed myself round with the chests\nand boards that I had brought on shore, and made a kind of a hut for\nthat night's lodging. As for food, I yet saw not which way to supply\nmyself, except that I had seen two or three creatures, like hares, run\nout of the wood where I shot the fowl.\nI now began to consider, that I might yet get a great many things out of\nthe ship, which would be useful to me, and particularly some of the\nrigging and sails, and such other things as might come to land; and I\nresolved to make another voyage on board the vessel, if possible. And as\nI knew that the first storm that blew must necessarily break her all in\npieces, I resolved to set all other things apart, till I got every thing\nout of the ship that I could get. Then I called a council, that is to\nsay, in my thoughts, whether I should take back the raft; but this\nappeared impracticable: so I resolved to go as before, when the tide was\ndown; and I did so, only that I stripped before I went from my hut;\nhaving nothing on but a chequered shirt, a pair of linen drawers, and a\npair of pumps on my feet.\nI got on board the ship as before, and prepared a second raft; and\nhaving had experience of the first, I neither made this so unwieldy, nor\nloaded it so hard, but yet I brought away several things very useful to\nme: as, first, in the carpenter's stores, I found two or three bags of\nnails and spikes, a great screw-jack, a dozen or two of hatchets; and,\nabove all, that most useful thing called a grind-stone. All these I\nsecured together, with several things belonging to the gunner;\nparticularly two or three iron crows, and two barrels of musket bullets,\nseven muskets, and another fowling-piece, with some small quantity of\npowder more; a large bag-full of small shot, and a great roll of\nsheet-lead; but this last was so heavy, I could not hoist it up to get\nit over the ship's side.\nBesides these things, I took all the men's clothes that I could find,\nand a spare fore-top sail, a hammock, and some bedding; and with this I\nloaded my second raft, and brought them all safe on shore, to my very\ngreat comfort.\nI was under some apprehensions, during my absence from the land, that at\nleast my provisions might be devoured on shore: but when I came back, I\nfound no sign of any visitor; only there sat a creature like a wild cat,\nupon one of the chests, which, when I came towards it, ran away a little\ndistance, and then stood still. She sat very composed and unconcerned,\nand looked full in my face, as if she had a mind to be acquainted with\nme. I presented my gun to her, but, as she did not understand it, she\nwas perfectly unconcerned at it, nor did she offer to stir away; upon\nwhich I tossed her a bit of biscuit, though, by the way, I was not very\nfree of it, for my store was not great: however, I spared her a bit, I\nsay, and she went to it, smelled of it, and ate it, and looked (as\npleased) for more; but I thanked her, and could spare no more: so she\nmarched off.\nHaving got my second cargo on shore--though I was fain to open the\nbarrels of powder, and bring them by parcels, for they were too heavy,\nbeing large casks--I went to work to make me a little tent, with the\nsail, and some poles, which I cut for that purpose; and into this tent I\nbrought every thing that I knew would spoil either with rain or sun; and\nI piled all the empty chests and casks up in a circle round the tent, to\nfortify it from any sudden attempt either from man or beast.\nWhen I had done this, I blocked up the door of the tent with some boards\nwithin, and an empty chest set up on end without; and spreading one of\nthe beds upon the ground, laying my two pistols just at my head, and my\ngun at length by me, I went to bed for the first time, and slept very\nquietly all night, for I was very weary and heavy; for the night before\nI had slept little, and had laboured very hard all day, as well to fetch\nall those things from the ship, as to get them on shore.\nI had the biggest magazine of all kinds now that ever was laid up, I\nbelieve, for one man: but I was not satisfied still: for while the ship\nsat upright in that posture, I thought I ought to get every thing out of\nher that I could: so every day, at low water, I went on board, and\nbrought away something or other; but particularly the third time I went,\nI brought away as much of the rigging as I could, as also all the small\nropes and rope-twine I could get, with a piece of spare canvass, which\nwas to mend the sails upon occasion, and the barrel of wet gunpowder.\nIn a word, I brought away all the sails first and last; only that I was\nfain to cut them in pieces, and bring as much at a time as I could; for\nthey were no more useful to be sails, but as mere canvass only.\nBut that which comforted me still more, was, that, last of all, after I\nhad made five or six such voyages as these, and thought I had nothing\nmore to expect from the ship that was worth my meddling with; I say,\nafter all this, I found a great hogshead of bread, and three large\nrunlets of rum or spirits, and a box of sugar, and a barrel of fine\nflour; this was surprising to me, because I had given over expecting any\nmore provisions, except what was spoiled by the water. I soon emptied\nthe hogshead of that bread, and wrapped it up, parcel by parcel, in\npieces of the sails, which I cut out; and, in a word, I got all this\nsafe on shore also.\nThe next day I made another voyage, and now having plundered the ship of\nwhat was portable and fit to hand out, I began with the cables, and\ncutting the great cable into pieces, such as I could move, I got two\ncables and a hawser on shore, with all the iron-work I could get; and\nhaving cut down the spritsail-yard, and the mizen-yard, and every thing\nI could, to make a large raft, I loaded it with all those heavy goods;\nand came away; but my good luck began now to leave me; for this raft was\nso unwieldy, and so overladen, that after I was entered the little cove,\nwhere I had landed the rest of my goods, not being able to guide it so\nhandily as I did the other, it overset, and threw me and all my cargo\ninto the water; as for myself, it was no great harm, for I was near the\nshore; but as to my cargo, it was a great part of it lost, especially\nthe iron, which I expected would have been of great use to me: however,\nwhen the tide was out, I got most of the pieces of cable ashore, and\nsome of the iron, though with infinite labour; for I was fain to dip for\nit into the water, a work which fatigued me very much. After this I went\nevery day on board, and brought away what I could get.\nI had been now thirteen days ashore, and had been eleven times on board\nthe ship; in which time I had brought away all that one pair of hands\ncould well be supposed capable to bring; though I believe verily, had\nthe calm weather held, I should have brought away the whole ship, piece\nby piece; but preparing the twelfth time to go on board, I found the\nwind began to rise: however, at low water, I went on board; and though I\nthought I had rummaged the cabin so effectually, as that nothing could\nbe found, yet I discovered a locker with drawers in it, in one of which\nI found two or three razors, and one pair of large scissars with some\nten or a dozen of good knives and forks; in another I found about\nthirty-six pounds value in money, some European coin, some Brazil, some\npieces of eight, some gold, and some silver.\nI smiled to myself at the sight of this money: \"O drug!\" said I aloud,\n\"what art thou good for? Thou art not worth to me, no, not the taking\noff the ground; one of those knives is worth all this heap: I have no\nmanner of use for thee; e'en remain where thou art, and go to the\nbottom, as a creature whose life is not worth saving.\" However, upon\nsecond thoughts, I took it away; and wrapping all this in a piece of\ncanvass, I began to think of making another raft; but while I was\npreparing this, I found the sky over-cast, and the wind began to rise,\nand in a quarter of an hour it blew a fresh gale from the shore. It\npresently occurred to me, that it was in vain to pretend to make a raft\nwith the wind off shore; and that it was my business to be gone before\nthe tide of flood began, or otherwise I might not be able to reach the\nshore at all. Accordingly I let myself down into the water, and swam\nacross the channel which lay between the ship and the sands, and even\nthat with difficulty enough, partly with the weight of the things I had\nabout me, and partly the roughness of the water; for the wind rose very\nhastily, and before it was quite high water it blew a storm.\nBut I was got home to my little tent, where I lay, with all my wealth\nabout me very secure. It blew very hard all that night, and in the\nmorning, when I looked out, behold, no more ship was to be seen! I was a\nlittle surprised, but recovered myself with this satisfactory\nreflection, viz. that I had lost no time, nor abated no diligence, to\nget every thing out of her that could be useful to me, and that, indeed,\nthere was little left in her that I was able to bring away, if I had had\nmore time.\nI now gave over any more thoughts of the ship, or of any thing out of\nher, except what might drive on shore, from her wreck; as, indeed,\ndivers pieces of her afterwards did; but those things were of small\nuse to me.\nMy thoughts were now wholly employed about securing myself against\neither savages, if any should appear, or wild beasts, if any were in the\nisland; and I had many thoughts of the method how to do this, and what\nkind of dwelling to make, whether I should make me a cave in the earth,\nor a tent upon the earth: and in short, I resolved upon both; the manner\nand description of which, it may not be improper to give an account of.\nI soon found the place I was in was not for my settlement, particularly\nbecause it was upon a low, moorish ground, near the sea, and I believed\nit would not be wholesome; and more particularly because there was no\nfresh water near it: so I resolved to find a more healthy and more\nconvenient spot of ground.\nI consulted several things in my situation, which I found would be\nproper for me: 1st, Health and fresh water, I just now mentioned: 2dly,\nShelter from the heat of the sun: 3dly, Security from ravenous\ncreatures, whether men or beasts: 4thly, A view to the sea, that if God\nsent any ship in sight, I might not lose any advantage for my\ndeliverance, of which I was not willing to banish all my\nexpectation yet.\nIn search for a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the\nside of a rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep\nas a house-side, so that nothing could come down upon me from the top.\nOn the side of this rock there was a hollow place, worn a little way in,\nlike the entrance or door of a cave; but there was not really any cave,\nor way into the rock, at all.\nOn the flat of the green, just before this hollow place, I resolved to\npitch my tent. This plain was not above a hundred yards broad, and about\ntwice as long, and lay like a green before my door; and, at the end of\nit, descended irregularly every way down into the low ground by the sea\nside. It was on the N.N.W. side of the hill; so that it was sheltered\nfrom the heat every day, till it came to a W. and by S. sun, or\nthereabouts, which, in those countries, is near the setting.\nBefore I set up my tent, I drew a half-circle before the hollow place,\nwhich took in about ten yards in its semi-diameter from the rock, and\ntwenty yards in its diameter, from its beginning and ending.\nIn this half-circle I pitched two rows of strong stakes, driving them\ninto the ground till they stood very firm like piles, the biggest end\nbeing out of the ground about five feet and a half and sharpened on the\ntop. The two rows did not stand above six inches from one another.\nThen I took the pieces of cable which I cut in the ship, and laid them\nin rows, one upon another, within the circle, between these two rows of\nstakes, up to the top, placing other stakes in the inside, leaning\nagainst them, about two feet and a half high, like a spur to a post; and\nthis fence was so strong, that neither man nor beast could get into it\nor over it. This cost me a great deal of time and labour, especially to\ncut the piles in the woods, bring them to the place, and drive them into\nthe earth.\nThe entrance into this place I made to be not by a door, but by a short\nladder to go over the top; which ladder, when I was in, I lifted over\nafter me; and so I was completely fenced in and fortified, as I thought,\nfrom all the world, and consequently slept secure in the night, which\notherwise I could not have done; though, as it appeared afterwards,\nthere was no need of all this caution from the enemies that I\napprehended danger from.\nInto this fence, or fortress, with infinite labour, I carried all my\nriches, all my provisions, ammunition, and stores, of which you have the\naccount above; and I made a large tent, which, to preserve me from the\nrains, that in one part of the year are very violent there, I made\ndouble, viz. one smaller tent within, and one larger tent above it, and\ncovered the uppermost with a large tarpaulin, which I had saved among\nthe sails.\nAnd now I lay no more for a while in the bed which I had brought on\nshore, but in a hammock, which was indeed a very good one, and belonged\nto the mate of the ship.\nInto this tent I brought all my provisions, and every thing that would\nspoil by the wet; and having thus enclosed all my goods, I made up the\nentrance which till now I had left open, and so passed and repassed, as\nI said, by a short ladder.\nWhen I had done this, I began to work my way into the rock, and bringing\nall the earth and stones that I dug down out through my tent, I laid\nthem up within my fence in the nature of a terrace, so that it raised\nthe ground within about a foot and an half; and thus I made me a cave,\njust behind my tent, which served me like a cellar to my house. It cost\nme much labour and many days, before all these things were brought to\nperfection; and therefore I must go back to some other things which took\nup some of my thoughts. At the same time it happened, after I had laid\nmy scheme for the setting up my tent, and making the cave, that a storm\nof rain falling from a thick, dark cloud, a sudden flash of lightning\nhappened, and after that, a great clap of thunder, as is naturally the\neffect of it. I was not so much surprised with the lightning, as I was\nwith a thought, which darted into my mind as swift as the lightning\nitself: O my powder! My very heart sunk within me when I thought, that\nat one blast, all my powder might be destroyed; on which, not my defence\nonly, but the providing me food, as I thought, entirely depended. I was\nnothing near so anxious about my own danger, though, had the powder took\nfire, I had never known who had hurt me.\nSuch impression did this make upon me, that after the storm was over, I\nlaid aside all my works, my building and fortifying, and applied myself\nto make bags and boxes, to separate the powder, and to keep it a little\nand a little in a parcel, in hope that whatever might come, it might not\nall take fire at once; and to keep it so apart, that it should not be\npossible to make one part fire another. I finished this work in about a\nfortnight; and I think my powder, which in all was about 240 lb. weight,\nwas divided in not less than a hundred parcels. As to the barrel that\nhad been wet, I did not apprehend any danger from that; so I placed it\nin my new cave, which, in my fancy, I called my kitchen, and the rest I\nhid up and down in holes among the rocks, so that no wet might come to\nit, marking very carefully where I laid it.\nIn the interval of time while this was doing, I went out at least once\nevery day with my gun, as well to divert myself, as to see if I could\nkill any thing fit for food; and, as near as I could, to acquaint myself\nwith what the island produced. The first time I went out, I presently\ndiscovered that there were goats upon the island, which was a great\nsatisfaction to me; but then it was attended with this misfortune to me,\nviz. that they were so shy, so subtle, and so swift of foot, that it was\nthe most difficult thing in the world to come at them: but I was not\ndiscouraged at this, not doubting but I might now and then shoot one, as\nit soon happened; for after I had found their haunts a little, I laid\nwait in this manner for them: I observed, if they saw me in the valleys,\nthough they were upon the rocks, they would run away as in a terrible\nfright; but if they were feeding in the valleys, and I was upon the\nrocks, they took no notice of me; from whence I concluded, that by the\nposition of their optics, their sight was so directed downward, that\nthey did not readily see objects that were above them: so, afterwards, I\ntook this method--I always climbed the rocks first, to get above them,\nand then had frequently a fair mark. The first shot I made among these\ncreatures, I killed a she-goat, which had a little kid by her, which she\ngave suck to, which grieved me heartily; but when the old one fell, the\nkid stood stock still by her, till I came and took her up; and not only\nso, but when I carried the old one with me, upon my shoulders, the kid\nfollowed me quite to my enclosure; upon which, I laid down the dam, and\ntook the kid in my arms, and carried it over my pale, in hopes to have\nbred it up tame; but it would not eat; so I was forced to kill it, and\neat it myself. These two supplied me with flesh a great while, for I ate\nsparingly, and preserved my provisions (my bread especially) as much as\npossibly I could.\nHaving now fixed my habitation, I found it absolutely necessary to\nprovide a place to make a fire in, and fuel to burn; and what I did for\nthat, as also how I enlarged my cave, and what conveniences I made, I\nshall give a full account of in its proper place: but I must first give\nsome little account of myself, and of my thoughts about living, which,\nit may well be supposed, were not a few.\nI had a dismal prospect of my condition; for as I was not cast away upon\nthat island without being driven, as is said, by a violent storm, quite\nout of the course of our intended voyage; and a great way, viz. some\nhundreds of leagues, out of the ordinary course of the trade of mankind,\nI had great reason to consider it as a determination of Heaven, that in\nthis desolate place, and in this desolate manner, I should end my life.\nThe tears would run plentifully down my face when I made these\nreflections; and sometimes I would expostulate with myself why\nProvidence should thus completely ruin its creatures, and render them so\nabsolutely miserable; so abandoned without help, so entirely depressed,\nthat it could hardly be rational to be thankful for such a life.\nBut something always returned swift upon me to check these thoughts, and\nto reprove me: and particularly, one day, walking with my gun in my\nhand, by the sea side, I was very pensive upon the subject of my present\ncondition, when reason, as it were, expostulated with me the other way,\nthus: \"Well, you are in a desolate condition, it is true; but, pray\nremember, where are the rest of you? Did not you come eleven of you into\nthe boat? Where are the ten? Why were not they saved, and you lost? Why\nwere you singled out? Is it better to be here or there?\" And then I\npointed to the sea. All evils are to be considered with the good that is\nin them, and with what worse attends them.\nThen it occurred to me again, how well I was furnished for my\nsubsistence, and what would have been my case if it had not happened\n(which was a hundred thousand to one) that the ship floated from the\nplace where she first struck, and was driven so near to the shore, that\nI had time to get all these things out of her: what would have been my\ncase, if I had been to have lived in the condition in which I at first\ncame on shore, without necessaries of life, or necessaries to supply and\nprocure them? \"Particularly, said I aloud (though to myself,) what\nshould I have done without a gun, without ammunition, without any tools\nto make any thing, or to work with, without clothes, bedding, a tent, or\nany manner of covering?\" and that now I had all these to a sufficient\nquantity, and was in a fair way to provide myself in such a manner as to\nlive without my gun, when my ammunition was spent: so that I had a\ntolerable view of subsisting, without any want, as long as I lived; for\nI considered, from the beginning, how I should provide for the accidents\nthat might happen, and for the time that was to come, not only after my\nammunition should be spent, but even after my health or strength\nshould decay.\nI confess, I had not entertained any notion of my ammunition being\ndestroyed at one blast, I mean my powder being blown up by lightning;\nand this made the thoughts of it so surprising to me, when it lightened\nand thundered, as I observed just now.\nAnd now being to enter into a melancholy relation of a scene of silent\nlife, such, perhaps, as was never heard of in the world before, I shall\ntake it from its beginning, and continue it in its order. It was, by my\naccount, the 30th of September, when, in the manner as above said, I\nfirst set foot upon this horrid island; when the sun being to us in its\nautumnal equinox, was almost just over my head: for I reckoned myself,\nby observation, to be in the latitude of 9 degrees 22 minutes north\nof the Line.\nAfter I had been there about ten or twelve days, it came into my\nthoughts that I should lose my reckoning of time for want of books, and\npen and ink, and should even forget the sabbath days from the working\ndays: but, to prevent this, I cut it with my knife upon a large post, in\ncapital letters; and making it into a great cross, I set it up on the\nshore where I first landed, viz. \"I came on shore here on the 30th of\nSeptember, 1659.\" Upon the sides of this square post I cut every day a\nnotch with my knife, and every seventh notch was as long again as the\nrest, and every first day of the month as long again as that long one:\nand thus I kept my calendar, or weekly, monthly, and yearly reckoning\nof time.\nBut it happened, that among the many things which I brought out of the\nship, in the several voyages which, as above mentioned, I made to it, I\ngot several things of less value, but not at all less useful to me,\nwhich I found, some time after, in rummaging the chests; as, in\nparticular, pens, ink, and paper; several parcels in the captain's,\nmate's, gunner's, and carpenter's keeping; three or four compasses, some\nmathematical instruments, dials, perspectives, charts, and books of\nnavigation; all which I huddled together, whether I might want them or\nno: also I found three very good bibles, which came to me in my cargo\nfrom England, and which I had packed up among my things; some Portuguese\nbooks also, and, among them, two or three popish prayer books, and\nseveral other books, all which I carefully secured. And I must not\nforget, that we had in the ship a dog, and two cats, of whose eminent\nhistory I may have occasion to say something, in its place: for I\ncarried both the cats with me; and as for the dog, he jumped out of the\nship himself, and swam on shore to me the day after I went on shore with\nmy first cargo, and was a trusty servant to me for many years: I wanted\nnothing that he could fetch me, nor any company that he could make up to\nme, I only wanted to have him talk to me, but that would not do. As I\nobserved before, I found pens, ink, and paper, and I husbanded them to\nthe utmost; and I shall show that while my ink lasted, I kept things\nvery exact, but after that was gone I could not; for I could not make\nany ink, by any means that I could devise.\nAnd this put me in mind that I wanted many things, notwithstanding all\nthat I had amassed together; and of these, this of ink was one; as also\na spade, pick-axe, and shovel, to dig or remove the earth; needles,\npins, and thread: as for linen, I soon learned to want that without much\ndifficulty.\nThis want of tools made every work I did go on heavily; and it was near\na whole year before I had entirely finished my little pale, or\nsurrounded my habitation. The piles or stakes, which were as heavy as I\ncould well lift, were a long time in cutting and preparing in the woods,\nand more, by far, in bringing home; so that I spent sometimes two days\nin cutting and bringing home one of those posts, and a third day in\ndriving it into the ground; for which purpose, I got a heavy piece of\nwood at first, but at last bethought myself of one of the iron crows;\nwhich, however, though I found it, yet it made driving these posts or\npiles very laborious and tedious work. But what need I have been\nconcerned at the tediousness of any thing I had to do, seeing I had time\nenough to do it in? nor had I any other employment, if that had been\nover, at least that I could foresee, except the ranging the island to\nseek for food; which I did, more or less, every day.\nI now began to consider seriously my condition, and the circumstance I\nwas reduced to; and I drew up the state of my affairs in writing, not so\nmuch to leave them to any that were to come after me (for I was like to\nhave but few heirs,) as to deliver my thoughts from daily poring upon\nthem, and afflicting my mind: and as my reason began now to master my\ndespondency, I began to comfort myself as well as I could, and to set\nthe good against the evil, that I might have something to distinguish my\ncase from worse; and I stated very impartially, like debtor and\ncreditor, the comforts I enjoyed against the miseries I suffered, thus:\n     EVIL.\n     I am cast upon a horrible,\n     desolate island, void of all\n     hope of recovery.\n     I am singled out and separated,\n     as it were, from all the\n     world, to be miserable.\n     I am divided from mankind,\n     a solitaire; one banished\n     from human society.\n     I have no clothes to cover\n     I am without any defence,\n     or means to resist any violence\n     of man or beast.\n     I have no soul to speak to,\n     or relieve me.\n     GOOD.\n     But I am alive; and not\n     drowned, as all my ship's company\n     were.\n     But I am singled out too\n     from all the ship's crew, to be\n     spared from death; and he\n     that miraculously save me\n     from death, can deliver me\n     from this condition.\n     But I am not starved, and\n     perishing in a barren place,\n     affording no sustenance.\n     But I am in a hot climate,\n     where, if I had clothes, I could\n     hardly wear them.\n     But I am cast on an island\n     where I see no wild beast to\n     hurt me, as I saw on the coast\n     of Africa: and what if I had\n     been shipwrecked there?\n     But God wonderfully sent\n     the ship in near enough to the\n     shore, that I have got out so\n     many necessary things as will\n     either supply my wants, or\n     enable me to supply myself,\n     even as long as I live.\nUpon the whole, here was an undoubted testimony, that there was scarce\nany condition in the world so miserable, but there was something\nnegative, or something positive, to be thankful for in it: and let this\nstand as a direction, from the experience of the most miserable of all\nconditions in this world, that we may always find in it something to\ncomfort ourselves from, and to set, in the description of good and evil,\non the credit side of the account.\nHaving now, brought my mind a little to relish my condition, and given\nover looking out to sea, to see if I could spy a ship; I say, giving\nover these things, I began to apply myself to accommodate my way of\nliving, and to make things as easy to me as I could.\nI have already described my habitation, which was a tent under the side\nof a rock,--surrounded with a strong pale of posts and cables; but I\nmight now rather call it a wall, for I raised a kind of wall against it\nof turfs, about two feet thick on the outside: and after some time (I\nthink it was a year and a half) I raised rafters from it, leaning to the\nrock, and thatched or covered it with boughs of trees, and such things\nas I could get, to keep out the rain; which I found, at some times of\nthe year, very violent.\nI have already observed how I brought all my goods into this pale, and\ninto the cave which I had made behind me. But I must observe, too, that\nat first this was a confused heap of goods, which, as they lay in no\norder, so they took up all my place; I had no room to turn myself: so I\nset myself to enlarge my cave, and work farther into the earth; for it\nwas a loose, sandy rock, which yielded easily to the labour I bestowed\non it: and when I found I was pretty safe as to the beasts of prey, I\nworked sideways, to the right hand, into the rock, and then turning to\nthe right again, worked quite out, and made me a door to come out in the\noutside of my pale or fortification.\nThis gave me not only egress and regress, as it were, a back-way to my\ntent and to my storehouse, but gave me room to stow my goods.\nAnd now I began to apply myself to make such necessary things as I found\nI most wanted, particularly a chair and a table; for without these I was\nnot able to enjoy the few comforts I had in the world; I could not\nwrite, or eat, or do several things with so much pleasure, without a\ntable: so I went to work. And here I must needs observe, that as reason\nis the substance and original of the mathematics, so by stating, and\nsquaring every thing by reason, and by making the most rational judgment\nof things, every man may be, in time, master of every mechanic art. I\nhad never handled a tool in my life; and yet, in time, by labour,\napplication, and contrivance, I found, at last, that I wanted nothing\nbut I could have made, especially if I had had tools. However, I made\nabundance of things, even without tools; and some with no more tools\nthan an adze and a hatchet, which perhaps were never made that way\nbefore, and that with infinite labour. For example, if I wanted a board,\nI had no other way but to cut down a tree, set it on an edge before me,\nand hew it flat on either side with my axe, till I had brought it to be\nas thin as a plank, and then dub it smooth with my adze. It is true, by\nthis method I could make but one board of a whole tree; but this I had\nno remedy for but patience, any more than I had for a prodigious deal of\ntime and labour which it took me up to make a plank or board: but my\ntime or labour was little worth, and so it was as well employed one way\nas another.\nHowever, I made me a table and a chair, as I observed above, in the\nfirst place; and this I did out of the short pieces of boards that I\nbrought on my raft from the ship. But when I wrought out some boards, as\nabove, I made large shelves, of the breadth of a foot and a half, one\nover another, all along one side of my cave, to lay all my tools, nails,\nand iron-work on; and, in a word, to separate every thing at large in\ntheir places, that I might easily come at them. I knocked pieces into\nthe wall of the rock, to hang my guns, and all things that would hang\nup: so that had my cave been seen, it looked like a general magazine of\nall necessary things; and I had every thing so ready at my hand, that it\nwas a great pleasure to me to see all my goods in such order, and\nespecially to find my stock of all necessaries so great.\nAnd now it was that I began to keep a journal of every day's employment;\nfor, indeed, at first, I was in too much hurry, and not only hurry as to\nlabour, but in much discomposure of mind; and my journal would, too,\nhave been full of many dull things: for example, I must have said\nthus--\"_Sept_. 30th. After I had got to shore, and had escaped drowning,\ninstead of being thankful to God for my deliverance, having first\nvomited, with the great quantity of salt water which was gotten into my\nstomach, and recovering myself a little, I ran about the shore, wringing\nmy hands, and beating my head and face, exclaiming at my misery, and\ncrying out, 'I was undone, undone!' till, tired and faint, I was forced\nto lie down on the ground to repose; but durst not sleep, for fear of\nbeing devoured.\"\nSome days after this, and after I had been on board the ship, and got\nall that I could out of her, I could not forbear getting up to the top\nof a little mountain, and looking out to sea, in hopes of seeing a ship:\nthen fancy that, at a vast distance, I spied a sail, please myself with\nthe hopes of it, and, after looking steadily, till I was almost blind,\nlose it quite, and sit down and weep like a child, and thus increase my\nmisery by my folly.\nBut, having gotten over these things in some measure, and having settled\nmy household-stuff and habitation, made me a table and a chair, and all\nas handsome about me as I could, I began to keep my journal: of which I\nshall here give you the copy (though in it will be told all these\nparticulars over again) as long as it lasted; for, having no more ink, I\nwas forced to leave it off.\nTHE JOURNAL.\n_September_ 30th, 1659. I, poor miserable Robinson Crusoe, being\nshipwrecked, during a dreadful storm, in the offing, came on shore on\nthis dismal unfortunate island, which I called the ISLAND OF DESPAIR;\nall the rest of the ship's company being drowned, and myself\nalmost dead.\nAll the rest of that day I spent in afflicting myself at the dismal\ncircumstances I was brought to, viz. I had neither food, house, clothes,\nweapon, nor place to fly to: and, in despair of any relief, saw nothing\nbut death before me; that I should either be devoured by wild beasts,\nmurdered by savages, or starved to death for want of food. At the\napproach of night I slept in a tree, for fear of wild creatures; but\nslept soundly, though it rained all night.\n_October_ 1. In the morning I saw, to my great surprise, the ship had\nfloated with the high tide, and was driven on shore again much nearer\nthe island; which, as it was some comfort on one hand (for seeing her\nsit upright, and not broken in pieces, I hoped, if the wind abated, I\nmight get on board, and get some food and necessaries out of her for my\nrelief,) so, on the other hand, it renewed my grief at the loss of my\ncomrades, who, I imagined, if we had all staid on board, might have\nsaved the ship, or, at least, that they would not have been all drowned,\nas they were; and that, had the men been saved, we might perhaps have\nbuilt us a boat, out of the ruins of the ship, to have carried us to\nsome other part of the world. I spent great part of this day in\nperplexing myself on these things; but, at length, seeing the ship\nalmost dry, I went upon the sand as near as I could, and then swam on\nboard. This day also it continued raining, though with no wind at all.\nFrom the 1st of _October_ to the 24th. All these days entirely spent in\nmany several voyages to get all I could out of the ship; which I brought\non shore, every tide of flood, upon rafts. Much rain also in these days,\nthough with some intervals of fair weather: but, it seems, this was the\nrainy season.\n_Oct_. 20. I overset my raft, and all the goods I had got upon it; but\nbeing in shoal water, and the things being chiefly heavy, I recovered\nmany of them when the tide was out.\n_Oct_. 25. It rained all night and all day, with some gusts of wind;\nduring which time the ship broke in pieces (the wind blowing a little\nharder than before) and was no more to be seen, except the wreck of her,\nand that only at low water. I spent this day in covering and securing\nthe goods which I had saved, that the rain might not spoil them.\n_Oct_. 26. I walked about the shore almost all day, to find out a place\nto fix my habitation; greatly concerned to secure myself from any attack\nin the night, either from wild beasts or men. Towards night I fixed upon\na proper place, under a rock, and marked out a semi-circle for my\nencampment; which I resolved to strengthen with a work, wall, or\nfortification, made of double piles, lined within with cables, and\nwithout with turf.\nFrom the 26th to the 30th, I worked very hard in carrying all my goods\nto my new habitation, though some part of the time it rained\nexceedingly hard.\nThe 31st, in the morning, I went out into the island with my gun, to see\nfor some food, and discover the country; when I killed a she-goat, and\nher kid followed me home, which I afterwards killed also, because it\nwould not feed.\n_November_ 1. I set up my tent under a rock, and lay there for the first\nnight; making it as large as I could, with stakes driven in to swing my\nhammock upon.\n_Nov_. 2. I set up all my chests and boards, and the pieces of timber\nwhich made my rafts; and with them formed a fence round me, a little\nwithin the place I had marked out for my fortification.\n_Nov_. 3. I went out with my gun, and killed two fowls like ducks, which\nwere very good food. In the afternoon I went to work to make me a table.\n_Nov_. 4. This morning I began to order my times of work, of going out\nwith my gun, time of sleep, and time of diversion; viz. every morning I\nwalked out with my gun for two or three hours, if it did not rain; then\nemployed myself to work till about eleven o'clock; then ate what I had\nto live on; and from twelve to two I lay down to sleep, the weather\nbeing excessive hot; and then, in the evening, to work again. The\nworking part of this day and the next was wholly employed in making my\ntable, for I was yet but a very sorry workman: though time and necessity\nmade me a complete natural mechanic soon after, as I believe they would\nany one else.\n_Nov. 5._ This day went abroad with my gun and dog, and killed a wild\ncat; her skin pretty soft, but her flesh good for nothing: of every\ncreature that I killed I took off the skins, and preserved them. Coming\nback by the sea-shore, I saw many sorts of sea-fowl which I did not\nunderstand: but was surprised, and almost frightened, with two or three\nseals; which, while I was gazing at them (not well knowing what they\nwere) got into the sea, and escaped me for that time.\n_Nov. 6._ After my morning walk, I went to work with my table again, and\nfinished it, though not to my liking: nor was it long before I learned\nto mend it.\n_Nov. 7._ Now it began to be settled fair weather. The 7th, 8th, 9th,\n10th, and part of the 12th (for the 11th was Sunday, according to my\nreckoning) I took wholly up to make me a chair, and with much ado,\nbrought it to a tolerable shape, but never to please me; and, even in\nthe making, I pulled it in pieces several times.\n_Note._ I soon neglected my keeping Sundays; for, omitting my mark for\nthem on my post, I forgot which was which.\n_Nov. 13._ This day it rained; which refreshed me exceedingly, and\ncooled the earth: but it was accompanied with terrible thunder and\nlightning, which frightened me dreadfully, for fear of my powder. As\nsoon as it was over, I resolved to separate my stock of powder into as\nmany little parcels as possible, that it might not be in danger.\n_Nov. 14, 15, 16._ These three days I spent in making little square\nchests or boxes, which might hold about a pound, or two pounds at most,\nof powder: and so, putting the powder in, I stowed it in places as\nsecure and as remote from one another as possible. On one of these three\ndays I killed a large bird that was good to eat; but I knew not what\nto call it.\n_Nov. 17._ This day I began to dig behind my tent, into the rock, to\nmake room for my farther convenience.\n_Note._ Three things I wanted exceedingly for this work, viz. a\npick-axe, a shovel, and a wheel-barrow, or basket; so I desisted from my\nwork, and began to consider how to supply these wants, and make me some\ntools. As for a pick-axe, I made use of the iron crows, which were\nproper enough, though heavy: but, the next thing was a shovel or spade;\nthis was so absolutely necessary, that, indeed, I could do nothing\neffectually without it; but what kind of one to make I knew not.\n_Nov. 18._ The next day, in searching the woods, I found a tree of that\nwood, or like it, which, in the Brazils, they call the iron tree, from\nits exceeding hardness: of this, with great labour, and almost spoiling\nmy axe, I cut a piece; and brought it home, too, with difficulty enough,\nfor it was exceeding heavy. The excessive hardness of the wood, and my\nhaving no other way, made me a long while upon this machine; for I\nworked it effectually, by little and little, into the form of a shovel\nor spade; the handle exactly shaped like ours in England, only that the\nbroad part having no iron shod upon it at bottom, it would not last me\nso long: however, it served well enough for the uses which I had\noccasion to put it to; but never was a shovel, I believe, made after\nthat fashion, or so long a-making.\nI was still deficient: for I wanted a basket, or a wheel-barrow. A\nbasket I could not make by any means, having no such things as twigs\nthat would bend to make wicker-ware; at least, none yet found out: and\nas to the wheel-barrow, I fancied I could make all but the wheel, but\nthat I had no notion of; neither did I know how to go about it: besides,\nI had no possible way to make iron gudgeons for the spindle or axis of\nthe wheel to run in; so I gave it over: and, for carrying away the earth\nwhich I dug out of the cave, I made me a thing like a hod, which the\nlabourers carry mortar in for the brick-layers. This was not so\ndifficult to me as the making the shovel: and yet this and the shovel,\nand the attempt which I made in vain to make a wheel-barrow, took me up\nno less than four days; I mean, always excepting my morning walk with my\ngun, which I seldom omitted, and very seldom failed also bringing home\nsomething fit to eat.\n_Nov. 23._ My other work having now stood still, because of my making\nthese tools, when they were finished I went on; and working every day,\nas my strength and time allowed, I spent eighteen days entirely in\nwidening and deepening my cave, that it might hold my goods\ncommodiously.\n_Note._ During all this time, I worked to make this room, or cave,\nspacious enough to accommodate me as a warehouse or magazine, a kitchen,\na dining-room, and a cellar. As for a lodging, I kept to the tent;\nexcept that sometimes, in the wet season of the year, it rained so hard\nthat I could not keep myself dry; which caused me afterwards to cover\nall my place within my pale with long poles, in the form of rafters,\nleaning against the rock, and load them with flags and large leaves of\ntrees, like a thatch.\n_December 10._ I began now to think my cave or vault finished; when on a\nsudden (it seems I had made it too large) a great quantity of earth fell\ndown from the top and one side: so much, that, in short, it frightened\nme, and not without reason too; for if I had been under it, I should\nnever have wanted a grave-digger. Upon this disaster, I had a great deal\nof work to do over again, for I had the loose earth to carry out; and,\nwhich was of more importance, I had the ceiling to prop up, so that I\nmight be sure no more would come down.\n_Dec. 11._ This day I went to work with it accordingly; and got two\nshores or posts pitched upright to the top, with two pieces of board\nacross over each post; this I finished the next day; and setting more\nposts up with boards, in about a week more I had the roof secured; and\nthe posts, standing in rows, served me for partitions to part off\nmy house.\n_Dec. 17._ From this day to the 30th, I placed shelves, and knocked up\nnails on the posts, to hang every thing up that could be hung up: and\nnow I began to be in some order within doors.\n_Dec. 20._ I carried every thing into the cave, and began to furnish my\nhouse, and set up some pieces of boards, like a dresser, to order my\nvictuals upon; but boards began to be very scarce with me: also I made\nme another table.\n_Dec. 24._ Much rain all night and all day: no stirring out.\n_Dec. 25._ Rain all day.\n_Dec. 26._ No rain; and the earth much cooler than before, and\npleasanter.\n_Dec. 27._ Killed a young goat; and lamed another, so that I catched it,\nand led it home in a string: when I had it home, I bound and splintered\nup its leg, which was broke.\n_N.B._ I took such care of it that it lived; and the leg grew well, and\nas strong as ever: but, by nursing it so long, it grew tame, and fed\nupon the little green at my door, and would not go away. This was the\nfirst time that I entertained a thought of breeding up some tame\ncreatures, that I might have food when my powder and shot was all spent.\n_Dec. 28, 29, 30, 31._ Great heats, and no breeze; so that there was no\nstirring abroad, except in the evening, for food: this time I spent in\nputting all my things in order within doors.\n_January 1._ Very hot still; but I went abroad early and late with my\ngun, and lay still in the middle of the day. This evening, going farther\ninto the vallies which lay towards the centre of the island, I found\nthere was plenty of goats, though exceeding shy, and hard to come at;\nhowever, I resolved to try if I could not bring my dog to hunt them\ndown. Accordingly, the next day, I went out with my dog, and set him\nupon the goats: but I was mistaken, for they all faced about upon the\ndog: and he knew his danger too well, for he would not come near them.\n_Jan. 3._ I began my fence or wall; which, being still jealous of my\nbeing attacked by somebody, I resolved to make very thick and strong.\n_N.B._ This wall being described before, I purposely omit what was said\nin the journal: it is sufficient to observe, that I was no less time\nthan from the 3d of January to the 14th of April, working, finishing,\nand perfecting this wall; though it was no more than about 25 yards in\nlength, being a half-circle, from one place in the rock to another\nplace, about twelve yards from it, the door of the cave being in the\ncentre, behind it.\nAll this time I worked very hard; the rains hindering me many days, nay,\nsometimes weeks together: but I thought I should never be perfectly\nsecure till this wall was finished; and it is scarce credible what\ninexpressible labour every thing was done with, especially the bringing\npiles out of the woods, and driving them into the ground; for I made\nthem much bigger than I needed to have done.\nWhen this wall was finished, and the outside double-fenced, with a\nturf-wall raised up close to it, I persuaded myself that if any people\nwere to come on shore there they would not perceive any thing like a\nhabitation: and it was very well I did so, as may be observed hereafter,\nupon a very remarkable occasion.\nDuring this time, I made my rounds in the woods for game every day,\nwhen the rain permitted me, and made frequent discoveries, in these\nwalks, of something or other to my advantage; particularly, I found a\nkind of wild pigeons, who build, not as wood-pigeons, in a tree, but\nrather as house-pigeons, in the holes of the rocks: and, taking some\nyoung ones, I endeavoured to breed them up tame, and did so; but when\nthey grew older, they flew all away; which, perhaps, was at first for\nwant of feeding them, for I had nothing to give them: however, I\nfrequently found their nests, and got their young ones, which were very\ngood meat. And now, in the managing my household affairs, I found myself\nwanting in many things, which I thought at first it was impossible for\nme to make; as indeed, as to some of them, it was: for instance, I could\nnever make a cask to be hooped. I had a small runlet or two, as I\nobserved before; but I could never arrive to the capacity of making one\nby them, though I spent many weeks about it: I could neither put in the\nheads, nor join the staves so true to one another as to make them hold\nwater; so I gave that also over. In the next place, I was at a great\nloss for candle; so that as soon as it was dark, which was generally by\nseven o'clock, I was obliged to go to bed. I remember the lump of\nbees-wax with which I made candles in my African adventure; but I had\nnone of that now; the only remedy I had was, that when I had killed a\ngoat, I saved the tallow; and with a little dish made of clay, which I\nbaked in the sun, to which I added a wick of some oakum, I made me a\nlamp; and this gave me light, though not a clear steady light like a\ncandle. In the middle of all my labours it happened, that in rummaging\nmy things, I found a little bag; which, as I hinted before, had been\nfilled with corn, for the feeding of poultry; not for this voyage, but\nbefore, as I suppose, when the ship came from Lisbon. What little\nremainder of corn had been in the bag was all devoured with the rats,\nand I saw nothing in the bag but husks and dust; and being willing to\nhave the bag for some other use (I think, it was to put powder in, when\nI divided it for fear of the lightning, or some such use,) I shook the\nhusks of corn out of it, on one side of my fortification, under\nthe rock.\nIt was a little before the great rain just now mentioned, that I threw\nthis stuff away; taking no notice of any thing, and not so much as\nremembering that I had thrown any thing there: when about a month after,\nI saw some few stalks of something green, shooting out of the ground,\nwhich I fancied might be some plant I had not seen; but I was surprised,\nand perfectly astonished, when, after a little longer time, I saw about\nten or twelve ears come out, which were perfect green barley of the same\nkind as our European, nay, as our English barley.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment and confusion of my\nthoughts on this occasion: I had hitherto acted upon no religious\nfoundation at all; indeed, I had very few notions of religion in my\nhead, nor had entertained any sense of any thing that had befallen me,\notherwise than as chance, or, as we lightly say, what pleases God;\nwithout so much as inquiring into the end of Providence in these things,\nor his order in governing events in the world. But after I saw barley\ngrow there, in a climate which I knew was not proper for corn, and\nespecially as I knew not how it came there, it startled me strangely;\nand I began to suggest, that God had miraculously caused this grain to\ngrow without any help of seed sown, and that it was so directed purely\nfor my sustenance, on that wild miserable place.\nThis touched my heart a little, and brought tears out of my eyes; and I\nbegan to bless myself that such a prodigy of nature should happen upon\nmy account: and this was the more strange to me, because I saw near it\nstill, all along by the side of the rock, some other straggling stalks,\nwhich proved to be stalks of rice, and which I knew, because I had seen\nit grow in Africa, when I was ashore there.\nI not only thought these the pure productions of Providence for my\nsupport, but, not doubting that there was more in the place, I went over\nall that part of the island where I had been before, searching in every\ncorner, and under every rock, for more of it; but I could not find any.\nAt last it occurred to my thoughts, that I had shook out a bag of\nchicken's-meat in that place, and then the wonder began to cease: and I\nmust confess, my religious thankfulness to God's providence began to\nabate too, upon the discovering that all this was nothing but what was\ncommon; though I ought to have been as thankful for so strange and\nunforeseen a providence, as if it had been miraculous: for it was really\nthe work of Providence, as to me, that should order or appoint that ten\nor twelve grains of corn should remain unspoiled, when the rats had\ndestroyed all the rest, as if it had been dropt from heaven; as also,\nthat I should throw it out in that particular place, where, it being in\nthe shade of a high rock, it sprang up immediately; whereas, if I had\nthrown it any where else, at that time, it would have been burnt up and\ndestroyed.\nI carefully saved the ears of this corn, you may be sure, in their\nseason, which was about the end of June; and, laying up every corn, I\nresolved to sow them all again; hoping, in time, to have some quantity\nsufficient to supply me with bread. But it was not till the fourth year\nthat I could allow myself the least grain of this corn to eat, and even\nthen but sparingly, as I shall show afterwards, in its order; for I lost\nall that I sowed the first season, by not observing the proper time; as\nI sowed just before the dry season, so that it never came up at all, at\nleast not as it would have done; of which in its place.\nBesides this barley, there were, as above, twenty or thirty stalks of\nrice, which I preserved with the same care; and whose use was of the\nsame kind, or to the same purpose, viz. to make me bread, or rather\nfood; for I found ways to cook it up without baking, though I did that\nalso after some time.--But to return to my Journal.\nI worked excessively hard these three or four months, to get my wall\ndone; and the 14th of April I closed it up; contriving to get into it,\nnot by a door, but over the wall, by a ladder, that there might be no\nsign on the outside of my habitation.\n_April 16._ I finished the ladder; so I went up with the ladder to the\ntop, and then pulled it up after me, and let it down in the inside: this\nwas a complete enclosure to me; for within I had room enough, and\nnothing could come at me from without, unless it could first mount\nmy wall.\nThe very next day after this wall was finished, I had almost all my\nlabour overthrown at once, and myself killed; the case was thus:--As I\nwas busy in the inside of it, behind my tent, just at the entrance into\nmy cave, I was terribly frightened with a most dreadful surprising thing\nindeed; for, all on a sudden, I found the earth come crumbling down from\nthe roof of my cave, and from the edge of the hill over my head, and two\nof the posts I had set up in the cave cracked in a frightful manner. I\nwas heartily scared; but thought nothing of what really was the cause,\nonly thinking that the top of my cave was falling in, as some of it had\ndone before: and for fear I should be buried in it, I ran forward to my\nladder, and not thinking myself safe there neither, I got over my wall\nfor fear of the pieces of the hill which I expected might roll down upon\nme. I had no sooner stepped down upon the firm ground, than I plainly\nsaw it was a terrible earthquake; for the ground I stood on shook three\ntimes at about eight minutes distance, with three such shocks as would\nhave overturned the strongest building that could be supposed to have\nstood on the earth; and a great piece of the top of a rock, which stood\nabout half a mile from me, next the sea, fell down, with such a terrible\nnoise as I never heard in all my life. I perceived also that the very\nsea was put into a violent motion by it; and I believe the shocks were\nstronger under the water than on the island.\nI was so much amazed with the thing itself (having never felt the like,\nnor discoursed with any one that had) that I was like one dead or\nstupified; and the motion of the earth made my stomach sick, like one\nthat was tossed at sea: but the noise of the falling of the rock awaked\nme, as it were; and rousing me from the stupified condition I was in,\nfilled me with horror, and I thought of nothing but the hill falling\nupon my tent and my household goods, and burying all at once; this sunk\nmy very soul within me a second time.\nAfter the third shock was over, and I felt no more for some time, I\nbegan to take courage; yet I had not heart enough to go over my wall\nagain, for fear of being buried alive, but sat still upon the ground\ngreatly cast down, and disconsolate, not knowing what to do. All this\nwhile, I had not the least serious religious thought; nothing but the\ncommon _Lord, have mercy upon me!_ and when it was over, that went\naway too.\nWhile I sat thus, I found the air overcast, and grow cloudy, as if it\nwould rain; and soon after the wind rose by little, and little, so that\nin less than half an hour it blew a most dreadful hurricane: the sea\nwas, all on a sudden, covered with foam and froth; the shore was covered\nwith a breach of the water; the trees were torn up by the roots; and a\nterrible storm it was. This held about three hours, and then began to\nabate; and in two hours more it was quite calm, and began to rain very\nhard. All this while I sat upon the ground, very much terrified and\ndejected; when on a sudden it came into my thoughts, that these winds\nand rain being the consequence of the earthquake, the earthquake itself\nwas spent and over, and I might venture into my cave again. With this\nthought my spirits began to revive; and the rain also helping to\npersuade me, I went in, and sat down in my tent; but the rain was so\nviolent, that my tent was ready to be beaten down with it; and I was\nforced to get into my cave, though very much afraid and uneasy, for fear\nit should fall on my head. This violent rain forced me to a new work,\nviz. to cut a hole through my new fortification, like a sink, to let the\nwater go out, which would else have drowned my cave. After I had been in\nmy cave for some time, and found no more shocks of the earthquake\nfollow, I began to be more composed. And now to support my spirits,\nwhich indeed wanted it very much, I went to my little store, and took a\nsmall sup of rum; which, however, I did then, and always, very\nsparingly, knowing I could have no more when that was gone. It continued\nraining all that night, and great part of the next day, so that I could\nnot stir abroad; but my mind being more composed, I began to think of\nwhat I had best do; concluding, that if the island was subject to these\nearthquakes, there would be no living for me in a cave, but I must\nconsider of building me some little hut in an open place, which I might\nsurround with a wall, as I had done here, and so make myself secure from\nwild beasts or men; for if I staid where I was, I should certainly, one\ntime or other, be buried alive.\nWith these thoughts, I resolved to remove my tent from the place where\nit now stood, being just under the hanging precipice of the hill, and\nwhich, if it should be shaken again, would certainly fall upon my tent.\nI spent the two next days, being the 19th and 20th of April, in\ncontriving where and how to remove my habitation. The fear of being\nswallowed alive affected me so, that I never slept in quiet; and yet the\napprehension of lying abroad, without any fence, was almost equal to it:\nbut still, when I looked about, and saw how every thing was put in\norder, how pleasantly I was concealed, and how safe from danger, it made\nme very loth to remove. In the mean time, it occurred to me that it\nwould require a vast deal of time for me to do this; and that I must be\ncontented to run the risk where I was, till I had formed a convenient\ncamp, and secured it so as to remove to it. With this conclusion I\ncomposed myself for a time; and resolved that I would go to work with\nall speed to build me a wall with piles and cables, &c. in a circle as\nbefore, and set up my tent in it when it was finished; but that I would\nventure to stay where I was till it was ready, and fit to remove to.\nThis was the 21st.\n_April_ 22. The next morning I began to consider of means to put this\nmeasure into execution; but I was at a great loss about the tools. I had\nthree large axes, and abundance of hatchets (for we carried the hatchets\nfor traffic with the Indians;) but with much chopping and cutting knotty\nhard wood, they were all full of notches, and dull; and though I had a\ngrind-stone, I could not turn it and grind my tools too. This caused me\nas much thought as a statesman would have bestowed upon a grand point\nof politics, or a judge upon the life and death of a man. At length I\ncontrived a wheel with a string, to turn it with my foot, that I might\nhave both my hands at liberty.\n_Note._ I had never seen any such thing in England, or at least not to\ntake notice how it was done, though since I have observed it is very\ncommon there: besides that, my grind-stone was very large and heavy.\nThis machine cost me a full week's work to bring it to perfection.\n_April 28, 29._ These two whole days I took up in grinding my tools, my\nmachine for turning my grind-stone performing very well.\n_April 30._ Having perceived that my bread had been low a great while, I\nnow took a survey of it, and reduced myself to one biscuit-cake a day,\nwhich made my heart very heavy.\n_May 1._ In the morning, looking toward the sea-side, the tide being\nlow, I saw something lie on the shore bigger than ordinary, and it\nlooked like a cask: when I came to it, I found a small barrel, and two\nor three pieces of the wreck of the ship, which were driven on shore by\nthe late hurricane; and looking towards the wreck itself, I thought it\nseemed to lie higher out of the water than it used to do. I examined the\nbarrel that was driven on shore, and soon found it was a barrel of\ngunpowder; but it had taken water, and the powder was caked as hard as a\nstone: however, I rolled it farther on the shore for the present, and\nwent on upon the sands, as near as I could to the wreck of the ship, to\nlook for more.\nWhen I came down to the ship, I found it strangely removed. The\nforecastle, which lay before buried in sand, was heaved up at least six\nfeet: and the stern (which was broke to pieces, and parted from the\nrest, by the force of the sea, soon after I had left rummaging of her)\nwas tossed, as it were, up, and cast on one side: and the sand was\nthrown so high on that side next her stern, that I could now walk quite\nup to her when the tide was out; whereas there was a great piece of\nwater before, so that I could not come within a quarter of a mile of the\nwreck without swimming. I was surprised with this at first, but soon\nconcluded it must be done by the earthquake; and as by this violence the\nship was more broke open than formerly, so many things came daily on\nshore, which the sea had loosened, and which the winds and water rolled\nby degrees to the land.\nThis wholly diverted my thoughts from the design of removing my\nhabitation; and I busied myself mightily, that day especially, in\nsearching whether I could make any way into the ship: but I found\nnothing was to be expected of that kind, for all the inside of the ship\nwas choked up with sand. However, as I had learned not to despair of any\nthing, I resolved to pull every thing to pieces that I could of the\nship, concluding that every thing I could get from her would be of some\nuse or other to me.\n_May 3._ I began with my saw, and cut a piece of a beam through, which I\nthought held some of the upper part or quarter deck together; and when I\nhad cut it through, I cleared away the sand as well as I could from the\nside which lay highest; but the tide coming in, I was obliged to give\nover for that time.\n_May 4._ I went a-fishing, but caught not one fish that I durst eat of,\ntill I was weary of my sport; when, just going to leave off, I caught a\nyoung dolphin. I had made me a long line of some rope-yarn, but I had no\nhooks; yet I frequently caught fish enough, as much as I cared to eat;\nall which I dried in the sun, and ate them dry.\n_May 5._ Worked on the wreck; cut another beam asunder, and brought\nthree great fir-planks off from the decks; which I tied together, and\nmade swim on shore when the tide of flood came on.\n_May 6._ Worked on the wreck; got several iron bolts out of her, and\nother pieces of iron-work; worked very hard, and came home very much\ntired, and had thoughts of giving it over.\n_May 7._ Went to the wreck again, but not with an intent to work; but\nfound the weight of the wreck had broke itself down, the beams being\ncut; that several pieces of the ship seemed to lie loose; and the inside\nof the hold lay so open that I could see into it; but almost full of\nwater and sand.\n_May 8._ Went to the wreck, and carried an iron crow to wrench up the\ndeck, which lay now quite clear of the water and sand. I wrenched up two\nplanks, and brought them on shore also with the tide. I left the iron\ncrow in the wreck for next day.\n_May 9._ Went to the wreck, and with the crow made way into the body of\nthe wreck, and felt several casks, and loosened them with the crow, but\ncould not break them up. I felt also a roll of English lead, and could\nstir it; but it was too heavy to remove.\n_May 10--14._ Went every day to the wreck; and got a great many pieces\nof timber, and boards, or plank, and two or three hundred weight\nof iron.\n_May 15._ I carried two hatchets, to try if I could not cut a piece off\nthe roll of lead, by placing the edge of one hatchet, and driving it\nwith the other; but as it lay about a foot and a half in the water, I\ncould not make any blow to drive the hatchet.\n_May 16._ It had blown hard in the night, and the wreck appeared more\nbroken by the force of the water; but I staid so long in the woods, to\nget pigeons for food, that the tide prevented my going to the wreck\nthat day.\n_May 17._ I saw some pieces of the wreck blown on shore, at a great\ndistance, two miles off me, but resolved to see what they were, and\nfound it was a piece of the head, but too heavy for me to bring away.\n_May 24._ Every day, to this day, I worked on the wreck; and with hard\nlabour I loosened some things so much with the crow, that the first\nblowing tide several casks floated out, and two of the seamen's chests:\nbut the wind blowing from the shore, nothing came to land that day but\npieces of timber, and a hogshead, which had some Brazil pork in it; but\nthe salt-water and the sand had spoiled it. I continued this work every\nday to the 15th of June, except the time necessary to get food; which I\nalways appointed, during this part of my employment, to be when the tide\nwas up, that I might be ready when it was ebbed out: and by this time I\nhad gotten timber, and plank, and iron-work, enough to have built a\ngood boat, if I had known how: and I also got, at several times, and in\nseveral pieces, near one hundred weight of the sheet-lead.\n_June 16._ Going down to the sea-side, I found a large tortoise, or\nturtle. This was the first I had seen; which, it seems, was only my\nmisfortune, not any defect of the place, or scarcity: for had I happened\nto be on the other side of the island, I might have had hundreds of them\nevery day, as I found afterwards; but perhaps had paid dear enough\nfor them.\n_June 17._ I spent in cooking the turtle. I found in her threescore\neggs: and her flesh was to me, at that time, the most savoury and\npleasant that I ever tasted in my life; having had no flesh, but of\ngoats and fowls, since I landed in this horrid place.\n_June 18._ Rained all that day, and I staid within. I thought, at this\ntime, the rain felt cold, and I was somewhat chilly; which I knew was\nnot usual in that latitude.\n_June 19._ Very ill, and shivering, as if the weather had been cold.\n_June 20._ No rest all night; violent pains in my head, and feverish.\n_June 21._ Very ill; frightened almost to death with the apprehensions\nof my sad condition, to be sick, and no help: prayed to God, for the\nfirst time since the storm off Hull; but scarce knew what I said, or\nwhy, my thoughts being all confused.\n_June 22._ A little better; but under dreadful apprehensions of\nsickness.\n_June 23._ Very bad again; cold and shivering, and then a violent\nhead-ache.\n_June 24._ Much better.\n_June 25._ An ague very violent: the fit held me seven hours; cold fit,\nand hot, with faint sweats after it.\n_June 26._ Better; and having no victuals to eat, took my gun, but found\nmyself very weak: however, I killed a she-goat, and with much difficulty\ngot it home, and broiled some of it, and ate. I would fain have stewed\nit, and made some broth, but had no pot.\n_June 27._ The ague again so violent that I lay a-bed all day, and\nneither ate nor drank. I was ready to perish for thirst; but so weak, I\nhad not strength to stand up, or to get myself any water to drink.\nPrayed to God again, but was light-headed: and when I was not, I was so\nignorant that I knew not what to say; only lay and cried, \"Lord, look\nupon me! Lord, pity me! Lord, have mercy upon me!\" I suppose I did\nnothing else for two or three hours; till the fit wearing off, I fell\nasleep, and did not wake till far in the night. When I awoke, I found\nmyself much refreshed, but weak, and exceeding thirsty: however, as I\nhad no water in my whole habitation, I was forced to lie till morning,\nand went to sleep again. In this second sleep I had this terrible dream:\nI thought that I was sitting on the ground, on the outside of my wall,\nwhere I sat when the storm blew after the earthquake, and that I saw a\nman descend from a great black cloud, in a bright flame of fire, and\nlight upon the ground: he was all over as bright as a flame, so that I\ncould but just bear to look towards him: his countenance was most\ninexpressibly dreadful, impossible for words to describe: when he\nstepped upon the ground with his feet, I thought the earth trembled,\njust as it had done before in the earthquake; and all the air looked, to\nmy apprehension, as if it had been filled with flashes of fire. He had\nno sooner landed upon the earth, but he moved forward towards me, with a\nlong spear or weapon in his hand, to kill me; and when he came to a\nrising ground, at some distance, he spoke to me, or I heard a voice so\nterrible that it is impossible to express the terror of it: all that I\ncan say I understood, was this: \"Seeing all these things have not\nbrought thee to repentance, now thou shalt die;\" at which words I\nthought he lifted up the spear that was in his hand, to kill me.\nNo one that shall ever read this account, will expect that I should be\nable to describe the horrors of my soul at this terrible vision; I mean,\nthat even while it was a dream, I even dreamed of those horrors; nor is\nit any more possible to describe the impression that remained upon my\nmind when I awaked, and found it was but a dream.\nI had, alas! no divine knowledge: what I had received by the good\ninstruction of my father was then worn out, by an uninterrupted series,\nfor eight years, of seafaring wickedness, and a constant conversation\nwith none but such as were, like myself, wicked and profane to the last\ndegree. I do not remember that I had, in all that time, one thought that\nso much as tended either to looking upward towards God, or inward\ntowards a reflection upon my own ways: but a certain stupidity of soul,\nwithout desire of good, or consciousness of evil, had entirely\noverwhelmed me; and I was all that the most hardened, unthinking, wicked\ncreature among our common sailors, can be supposed to be; not having\nthe least sense, either of the fear of God, in danger, or of\nthankfulness to him, in deliverances.\nIn the relating what is already past of my story, this will be the more\neasily believed, when I shall add, that through all the variety of\nmiseries that had to this day befallen me, I never had so much as one\nthought of its being the hand of God, or that it was a just punishment\nfor my sin; either my rebellious behaviour against my father, or my\npresent sins, which were great; or even as a punishment for the general\ncourse of my wicked life. When I was on the desperate expedition on the\ndesert shores of Africa, I never had so much as one thought of what\nwould become of me; or one wish to God to direct me whither I should go,\nor to keep me from the danger which apparently surrounded me, as well\nfrom voracious creatures as cruel savages: but I was quite thoughtless\nof a God or a Providence; acted like a mere brute, from the principles\nof nature, and by the dictates of common sense only; and indeed hardly\nthat. When I was delivered and taken up at sea by the Portuguese\ncaptain, well used, and dealt with justly and honourably, as well as\ncharitably, I had not the least thankfulness in my thoughts. When,\nagain, I was shipwrecked, ruined, and in danger of drowning, on this\nisland, I was as far from remorse, or looking on it as a judgment: I\nonly said to myself often, that I was an unfortunate dog, and born to be\nalways miserable.\nIt is true, when I first got on shore here, and found all my ship's crew\ndrowned, and myself spared, I was surprised with a kind of ecstasy, and\nsome transports of soul, which, had the grace of God assisted, might\nhave come up to true thankfulness; but it ended where it began, in a\nmere common flight of joy; or, as I may say, being glad I was alive,\nwithout the least reflection upon the distinguished goodness of the hand\nwhich had preserved me, and had singled me out to be preserved when all\nthe rest were destroyed, or an inquiry why Providence had been thus\nmerciful to me: just the same common sort of joy which seamen generally\nhave, after they are got safe ashore from a shipwreck; which they drown\nall in the next bowl of punch, and forget almost as soon as it is over:\nand all the rest of my life was like it. Even when I was, afterwards, on\ndue consideration, made sensible of my condition,--how I was cast on\nthis dreadful place, out of the reach of human kind, out of all hope of\nrelief, or prospect of redemption,--as soon as I saw but a prospect of\nliving, and that I should not starve and perish for hunger, all the\nsense of my affliction wore off, and I began to be very easy, applied\nmyself to the works proper for my preservation and supply, and was far\nenough from being afflicted at my condition, as a judgment from Heaven,\nor as the hand of God against me: these were thoughts which very seldom\nentered into my head.\nThe growing up of the corn, as is hinted in my Journal, had, at first,\nsome little influence upon me, and began to affect me with seriousness,\nas long as I thought it had something miraculous in it; but as soon as\nthat part of the thought was removed, all the impression which was\nraised from it wore off also, as I have noted already. Even the\nearthquake, though nothing could be more terrible in its nature, or\nmore immediately directing to the invisible Power which alone directs\nsuch things, yet no sooner was the fright over, but the impression it\nhad made went off also. I had no more sense of God, or his judgments,\nmuch less of the present affliction of my circumstances being from his\nhand, than if I had been in the most prosperous condition of life. But\nnow, when I began to be sick, and a leisure view of the miseries of\ndeath came to place itself before me; when my spirits began to sink\nunder the burden of a strong distemper, and nature was exhausted with\nthe violence of the fever; conscience, that had slept so long, began to\nawake; and I reproached myself with my past life, in which I had so\nevidently, by uncommon wickedness, provoked the justice of God to lay me\nunder uncommon strokes, and to deal with me in so vindictive a manner.\nThese reflections oppressed me for the second or third day of my\ndistemper; and in the violence, as well of the fever as of the dreadful\nreproaches of my conscience, extorted from me some words like praying to\nGod: though I cannot say it was a prayer attended either with desires or\nwith hopes; it was rather the voice of mere fright and distress. My\nthoughts were confused; the convictions great upon my mind; and the\nhorror of dying in such a miserable condition, raised vapours in my head\nwith the mere apprehension: and, in these hurries of my soul, I knew not\nwhat my tongue might express: but it was rather exclamation, such as,\n\"Lord, what a miserable creature am I! If I should be sick, I shall\ncertainly die for want of help; and what will become of me?\" Then the\ntears burst out of my eyes, and I could say no more for a good while. In\nthis interval, the good advice of my father came to my mind, and\npresently his prediction, which I mentioned at the beginning of this\nstory, viz. that if I did take this foolish step, God would not bless\nme; and I should have leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected\nhis counsel, when there might be none to assist in my recovery. \"Now,\"\nsaid I, aloud, \"my dear father's words are come to pass; God's justice\nhas overtaken me, and I have none to help or hear me. I rejected the\nvoice of Providence, which had mercifully put me in a station of life\nwherein I might have been happy and easy; but I would neither see it\nmyself, nor learn from my parents to know the blessing of it. I left\nthem to mourn over my folly; and now I am left to mourn under the\nconsequences of it: I refused their help and assistance, who would have\npushed me in the world, and would have made every thing easy to me; and\nnow I have difficulties to struggle with, too great for even nature\nitself to support; and no assistance, no comfort, no advice.\" Then I\ncried out, \"Lord, be my help, for I am in great distress.\" This was the\nfirst prayer, if I may call it so, that I had made for many years. But I\nreturn to my Journal.\n_June 28._ Having been somewhat refreshed with the sleep I had had, and\nthe fit being entirely off, I got up; and though the fright and terror\nof my dream was very great, yet I considered that the fit of the ague\nwould return again the next day, and now was my time to get something to\nrefresh and support myself when I should be ill. The first thing I did\nwas to fill a large square case-bottle with water; and set it upon my\ntable, in reach of my bed: and to take off the chill or aguish\ndisposition of the water, I put about a quarter of a pint of rum into\nit, and mixed them together. Then I got me a piece of the goat's flesh,\nand broiled it on the coals, but could eat very little. I walked about;\nbut was very weak, and withal very sad and heavy-hearted under a sense\nof my miserable condition, dreading the return of my distemper the next\nday. At night, I made my supper of three of the turtle's eggs; which I\nroasted in the ashes, and ate, as we call it, in the shell: and this was\nthe first bit of meat I had ever asked God's blessing to, as I could\nremember, in my whole life. After I had eaten, I tried to walk; but\nfound myself so weak, that I could hardly carry the gun (for I never\nwent out without that;) so I went but a little way, and sat down upon\nthe ground, looking out upon the sea, which was just before me, and very\ncalm and smooth. As I sat here, some such thoughts as these occurred to\nme: What is this earth and sea, of which I have seen so much? Whence is\nit produced? And what am I, and all the other creatures, wild and tame,\nhuman and brutal? Whence are we? Surely, we are all made by some secret\npower, who formed the earth and sea, the air and sky. And who is that?\nThen it followed most naturally, It is God that has made all. Well, but\nthen, it came on strangely, if God has made all these things, he guides\nand governs them all, and all things that concern them; for the power\nthat could make all things, must certainly have power to guide and\ndirect them: if so, nothing can happen in the great circuit of his\nworks, either without his knowledge or appointment.\nAnd if nothing happens without his knowledge, he knows that I am here,\nand am in this dreadful condition: and if nothing happens without his\nappointment, he has appointed all this to befall me. Nothing occurred to\nmy thought, to contradict any of these conclusions: and therefore it\nrested upon me with the greatest force, that it must needs be that God\nhad appointed all this to befall me; that I was brought to this\nmiserable circumstance by his direction, he having the sole power, not\nof me only, but of every thing that happens in the world. Immediately it\nfollowed, Why has God done this to me? What have I done to be thus used?\nMy conscience presently checked me in that inquiry, as if I had\nblasphemed; and methought it spoke to me like a voice, \"Wretch! dost\n_thou_ ask what thou hast done? Look back upon a dreadful misspent life,\nand ask thyself, what thou hast _not_ done? Ask, why is it that thou\nwert not long ago destroyed? Why wert thou not drowned in Yarmouth\nRoads; killed in the fight when the ship was taken by the Sallee man of\nwar; devoured by the wild beasts on the coast of Africa; or drowned\n_here_, when all the crew perished but thyself? Dost _thou_ ask what\nthou hast done?\" I was struck dumb with these reflections, as one\nastonished, and had not a word to say; no, not to answer to myself; and,\nrising up pensive and sad, walked back to my retreat, and went over my\nwall, as if I bad been going to bed: but my thoughts were sadly\ndisturbed, and I had no inclination to sleep; so I sat down in the\nchair, and lighted my lamp, for it began to be dark. Now, as the\napprehension of the return of my distemper terrified me very much, it\noccurred to my thought, that the Brazilians take no physic but their\ntobacco for almost all distempers; and I had a piece of a roll of\ntobacco in one of the chests, which was quite cured; and some also that\nwas green, and not quite cured.\nI went, directed by Heaven no doubt: for in this chest I found a cure\nboth for soul and body. I opened the chest, and found what I looked for,\nviz. the tobacco; and as the few books I had saved lay there too, I took\nout one of the Bibles which I mentioned before, and which to this time I\nhad not found leisure, or so much as inclination, to look into. I say, I\ntook it out, and brought both that and the tobacco with me to the table.\nWhat use to make of the tobacco I knew not, as to my distemper, nor\nwhether it was good for it or not; but I tried several experiments with\nit, as if I was resolved it should hit one way or other. I first took a\npiece of a leaf, and chewed it in my mouth; which, indeed, at first,\nalmost stupified my brain; the tobacco being green and strong, and such\nas I had not been much used to. Then I took some and steeped it an hour\nor two in some rum, and resolved to take a dose of it when I lay down:\nand, lastly, I burnt some upon a pan of coals, and held my nose close\nover the smoke of it as long as I could bear it; as well for the heat,\nas almost for suffocation. In the interval of this operation, I took up\nthe Bible, and began to read; but my head was too much disturbed with\nthe tobacco to bear reading, at least at that time; only, having opened\nthe book casually, the first words that occurred to me were these: \"Call\non me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt\nglorify me.\" These words were very apt to my case; and made some\nimpression upon my thoughts at the time of reading them, though not so\nmuch as they did afterwards; for, as for being _delivered_, the word had\nno sound, as I may say, to me; the thing was so remote, so impossible in\nmy apprehension of things, that, as the children of Israel said when\nthey were promised flesh to eat, \"Can God spread a table in the\nwilderness?\" so I began to say, Can even God himself deliver me from\nthis place? And as it was not for many years that any hopes appeared,\nthis prevailed very often upon my thoughts: but, however, the words made\na great impression upon me, and I mused upon them very often. It now\ngrew late; and the tobacco had, as I said, dozed my head so much, that I\ninclined to sleep: so I left my lamp burning in the cave, lest I should\nwant any thing in the night, and went to bed. But before I lay down, I\ndid what I never had done in all my life; I kneeled down, and prayed to\nGod to fulfil the promise to me, that if I called upon him in the day of\ntrouble, he would deliver me. After my broken and imperfect prayer was\nover, I drank the rum in which I had steeped the tobacco; which was so\nstrong and rank of the tobacco, that indeed I could scarce get it down:\nimmediately upon this I went to bed. I found presently the rum flew up\ninto my head violently; but I fell into a sound sleep, and waked no\nmore till, by the sun, it must necessarily be near three o'clock in the\nafternoon the next day: nay, to this hour I am partly of opinion, that I\nslept all the next day and night, and till almost three the day after;\nfor otherwise, I know not how I should lose a day out of my reckoning in\nthe days of the week, as it appeared some years after I had done; for if\nI had lost it by crossing and re-crossing the Line, I should have lost\nmore than one day; but certainly I lost a day in my account, and never\nknew which way. Be that, however, one way or the other, when I awaked I\nfound myself exceedingly refreshed, and my spirits lively and cheerful:\nwhen I got up, I was stronger than I was the day before, and my stomach\nbetter, for I was hungry; and, in short, I had no fit the next day, but\ncontinued much altered for the better. This was the 29th.\nThe 30th was my well day, of course; and I went abroad with my gun, but\ndid not care to travel too far. I killed a sea-fowl or two, something\nlike a brand goose, and brought them home; but was not very forward to\neat them; so I ate some more of the turtle's eggs, which were very good.\nThis evening I renewed the medicine, which I had supposed did me good\nthe day before, viz. the tobacco steeped in rum; only I did not take so\nmuch as before, nor did I chew any of the leaf, or hold my head over the\nsmoke: however, I was not so well the next day, which was the 1st of\nJuly, as I hoped I should have been; for I had a little of the cold fit,\nbut it was not much.\n_July 2._ I renewed the medicine all the three ways; and dosed myself\nwith it as at first, and doubled the quantity which I drank.\n_July 3._ I missed the fit for good and all, though I did not recover my\nfull strength for some weeks after. While I was thus gathering strength,\nmy thoughts ran exceedingly upon this scripture, \"I will deliver thee;\"\nand the impossibility of my deliverance lay much upon my mind, in bar of\nmy ever expecting it: but as I was discouraging myself with such\nthoughts, it occurred to my mind that I pored so much upon my\ndeliverance from the main affliction, that I disregarded the deliverance\nI had received; and I was, as it were, made to ask myself such questions\nas these, viz. Have I not been delivered, and wonderfully too, from\nsickness; from the most distressed condition that could be, and that was\nso frightful to me? and what notice have I taken of it? Have I done my\npart? God has delivered me, but I have not glorified him; that is to\nsay, I have not owned and been thankful for that as a deliverance: and\nhow can I expect a greater deliverance? This touched my heart very much;\nand immediately I knelt down, and gave God thanks aloud for my recovery\nfrom my sickness.\n_July 4._ In the morning I took the Bible; and beginning at the New\nTestament, I began seriously to read it; and imposed upon myself to read\nawhile every morning and every night; not binding myself to the number\nof chapters, but as long as my thoughts should engage me. It was not\nlong after I set seriously to this work, that I found my heart more\ndeeply and sincerely affected with the wickedness of my past life. The\nimpression of my dream revived; and the words, \"All these things have\nnot brought thee to repentance,\" ran seriously in my thoughts. I was\nearnestly begging of God to give me repentance, when it happened\nprovidentially, the very same day, that, reading the scripture, I came\nto these words, \"He is exalted a Prince and a Saviour; to give\nrepentance, and to give remission.\" I threw down the book; and with my\nheart as well as my hands lifted up to heaven, in a kind of ecstasy of\njoy, I cried out aloud, \"Jesus, thou son of David! Jesus, thou exalted\nPrince and Saviour! give me repentance!\" This was the first time in all\nmy life I could say, in the true sense of the words, that I prayed; for\nnow I prayed with a sense of my condition, and with a true scripture\nview of hope, founded on the encouragement of the word of God: and from\nthis time, I may say, I began to have hope that God would hear me.\nNow I began to construe the words mentioned above, \"Call on me, and I\nwill deliver thee,\" in a different sense from what I had ever done\nbefore; for then I had no notion of any thing being called\n_deliverance_, but my being delivered from the captivity I was in: for\nthough I was indeed at large in the place, yet the island was certainly\na prison to me, and that in the worst sense in the world. But now I\nlearned to take it in another sense: now I looked back upon my past life\nwith such horror, and my sins appeared so dreadful, that my soul sought\nnothing of God but deliverance from the load of guilt that bore down all\nmy comfort. As for my solitary life, it was nothing; I did not so much\nas pray to be delivered from it, or think of it; it was all of no\nconsideration, in comparison with this. And I add this part here, to\nhint to whoever shall read it, that whenever they come to a true sense\nof things, they will find deliverance from sin a much greater blessing\nthan deliverance from affliction. But, leaving this part, I return to\nmy Journal.\nMy condition began now to be, though not less miserable as to my way of\nliving, yet much easier to my mind: and my thoughts being directed, by\nconstantly reading the Scripture and praying to God, to things of a\nhigher nature, I had a great deal of comfort within, which, till now, I\nknew nothing of; also, as my health and strength returned, I bestirred\nme to furnish myself with every thing that I wanted, and make my way of\nliving as regular as I could.\nFrom the 4th of July to the 14th, I was chiefly employed in walking\nabout with my gun in my hand, a little and a little at a time, as a man\nthat was gathering up his strength after a fit of sickness: for it is\nhardly to be imagined how low I was, and to what weakness I was reduced.\nThe application which I made use of was perfectly new, and perhaps what\nhad never cured an ague before; neither can I recommend it to any one to\npractise, by this experiment: and though it did carry off the fit, yet\nit rather contributed to weakening me; for I had frequent convulsions in\nmy nerves and limbs for some time: I learned from it also this, in\nparticular; that being abroad in the rainy season was the most\npernicious thing to my health that could be, especially in those rains\nwhich came attended with storms and hurricanes of wind; for as the rain\nwhich came in the dry season was almost always accompanied with such\nstorms, so I found that this rain was much more dangerous than the rain\nwhich fell in September and October.\nI had now been in this unhappy island above ten months: all possibility\nof deliverance from this condition seemed to be entirely taken from me;\nand I firmly believed that no human shape had ever set foot upon that\nplace. Having secured my habitation, as I thought, fully to my mind, I\nhad a great desire to make a more perfect discovery of the island, and\nto see what other productions I might find, which I yet knew nothing of.\nIt was on the 15th of July that I began to take a more particular survey\nof the island itself. I went up the creek first, where, as I hinted, I\nbrought my rafts on shore. I found, after I came about two miles up,\nthat the tide did not flow any higher; and that it was no more than a\nlittle brook of running water, very fresh and good: but this being the\ndry season, there was hardly any water in some parts of it; at least,\nnot any stream. On the banks of this brook I found many pleasant\nsavannahs or meadows, plain, smooth, and covered with grass: and on the\nrising parts of them, next to the higher grounds (where the water as it\nmight be supposed, never overflowed,) I found a great deal of tobacco,\ngreen, and growing to a very great and strong stalk: and there were\ndivers other plants, which I had no knowledge of, or understanding\nabout, and that might, perhaps, have virtues of their own, which I\ncould not find out. I searched for the cassava root, which the Indians,\nin all that climate, make their bread of; but I could find none. I saw\nlarge plants of aloes, but did not understand them. I saw several\nsugar-canes, but wild; and, for want of cultivation, imperfect. I\ncontented myself with these discoveries for this time; and came back,\nmusing with myself what course I might take to know the virtue and\ngoodness of any of the fruits or plants which I should discover; but\ncould bring it to no conclusion; for, in short, I had made so little\nobservation while I was in the Brazils, that I knew little of the plants\nin the field; at least, very little that might serve me to any purpose\nnow in my distress.\nThe next day, the 16th, I went up the same way again; and after going\nsomething farther than I had gone the day before, I found the brook and\nthe savannahs begin to cease, and the country become more woody than\nbefore. In this part I found different fruits; and particularly I found\nmelons upon the ground, in great abundance, and grapes upon the trees:\nthe vines, indeed, had spread over the trees, and the clusters of grapes\nwere now just in their prime, very ripe and rich. This was a surprising\ndiscovery, and I was exceedingly glad of them, but I was warned by my\nexperience to eat sparingly of them; remembering that when I was ashore\nin Barbary, the eating of grapes killed several of our Englishmen, who\nwere slaves there, by throwing them into fluxes and fevers. I found,\nhowever, an excellent use for these grapes; and that was, to cure or dry\nthem in the sun, and keep them as dried grapes or raisins are kept;\nwhich I thought would be (as indeed they were) as wholesome and as\nagreeable to eat, when no grapes were to be had.\nI spent all that evening there, and went not back to my habitation;\nwhich, by the way, was the first night, as I might say, I had lain from\nhome. At night, I took my first contrivance, and got up into a tree,\nwhere I slept well; and the next morning proceeded on my discovery,\ntravelling near four miles, as I might judge by the length of the\nvalley; keeping still due north, with a ridge of hills on the south and\nnorth sides of me. At the end of this march I came to an opening, where\nthe country seemed to descend to the west; and a little spring of fresh\nwater, which issued out of the side of the hill by me, ran the other\nway, that is, due east; and the country appeared so fresh, so green, so\nflourishing, every thing being in a constant verdure, or flourish of\nspring, that it looked like a planted garden. I descended a little on\nthe side of that delicious vale, surveying it with a secret kind of\npleasure (though mixed with other afflicting thoughts,) to think that\nthis was all my own; that I was king and lord of all this country\nindefeasibly, and had a right of possession; and, if I could convey it,\nI might have it in inheritance as completely as any lord of a manor in\nEngland. I saw here abundance of cocoa trees, and orange, lemon, and\ncitron trees, but all wild, and very few bearing any fruit; at least not\nthen. However, the green limes that I gathered were not only pleasant to\neat, but very wholesome; and I mixed their juice afterwards with water,\nwhich made it very wholesome, and very cool and refreshing. I found now\nI had business enough to gather and carry home; and I resolved to lay up\na store, as well of grapes as limes and lemons to furnish myself for the\nwet season, which I knew was approaching. In order to this, I gathered a\ngreat heap of grapes in one place, a lesser heap in another place; and a\ngreat parcel of limes and melons in another place; and, taking a few of\neach with me, I travelled homeward; and resolved to come again, and\nbring a bag or sack, or what I could make to carry the rest home.\nAccordingly, having spent three days in this journey, I came home (so I\nmust now call my tent and my cave:) but before I got thither, the grapes\nwere spoiled; the richness of the fruits, and the weight of the juice,\nhaving broken and bruised them, they were good for little or nothing: as\nto the limes, they were good, but I could bring only a few.\nThe next day, being the 19th, I went back, having made me two small bags\nto bring home my harvest; but I was surprised, when, coming to my heap\nof grapes, which were so rich and fine when I gathered them, I found\nthem all spread about, trod to pieces, and dragged about, some here,\nsome there, and abundance eaten and devoured. By this I concluded there\nwere some wild creatures thereabouts which had done this, but what they\nwere I knew not. However, as I found there was no laying them up in\nheaps, and no carrying them away in a sack; but that one way they would\nbe destroyed, and the other way they would be crushed with their own\nweight; I took another course: I then gathered a large quantity of the\ngrapes, and hung them upon the out-branches of the trees, that they\nmight cure and dry in the sun; and as for the limes and lemons, I\ncarried as many back as I could well stand under.\nWhen I came home from this journey, I contemplated with great pleasure\nthe fruitfulness of that valley, and the pleasantness of the situation;\nthe security from storms on that side; the water and the wood: and\nconcluded that I had pitched upon a place to fix my abode in, which was\nby far the worst part of the country. Upon the whole, I began to\nconsider of removing my habitation, and to look out for a place equally\nsafe as where I was now situate; if possible, in that pleasant fruitful\npart of the island.\nThis thought ran long in my head; and I was exceeding fond of it for\nsome time, the pleasantness of the place tempting me: but when I came to\na nearer view of it, I considered that I was now by the sea-side, where\nit was at least possible that something might happen to my advantage,\nand, by the same ill fate that brought me hither, might bring some other\nunhappy wretches to the same place; and though it was scarce probable\nthat any such thing should ever happen, yet to enclose myself among the\nhills and woods in the centre of the island, was to anticipate my\nbondage, and to render such an affair not only improbable, but\nimpossible; and that therefore I ought not by any means to remove.\nHowever, I was so enamoured of this place, that I spent much of my time\nthere for the whole remaining part of the month of July; and though,\nupon second thoughts, I resolved, as above stated, not to remove; yet I\nbuilt me a little kind of a bower, and surrounded it at a distance with\na strong fence, being a double hedge, as high as I could reach, well\nstaked, and filled between with brush-wood. Here I lay very secure,\nsometimes two or three nights together; always going over it with a\nladder, as before: so that I fancied now I had my country and my\nsea-coast house. This work took me up till the beginning of August.\nI had but newly finished my fence, and began to enjoy my labour, when\nthe rains came on, and made me stick close to my first habitation: for\nthough I had made a tent like the other, with a piece of sail, and\nspread it very well, yet I had not the shelter of a hill to keep me from\nstorms, nor a cave behind me to retreat into when the rains were\nextraordinary.\nAbout the beginning of August, as I said, I had finished my bower, and\nbegan to enjoy myself. The 3d of August, I found the grapes I had hung\nup were perfectly dried, and indeed were excellent good raisins of the\nsun: so I began to take them down from the trees; and it was very happy\nthat I did so, as the rains which followed would have spoiled them, and\nI should have lost the best part of my winter food; for I had above two\nhundred large bunches of them. No sooner had I taken them all down, and\ncarried most of them home to my cave, but it began to rain: and from\nhence, which was the 14th of August, it rained, more or less, every day\ntill the middle of October; and sometimes so violently, that I could not\nstir out of my cave for several days.\nIn this season, I was much surprised with the increase of my family. I\nhad been concerned for the loss of one of my cats, who ran away from me,\nor, as I thought, had been dead; and I heard no more of her, till, to my\nastonishment, she came home with three kittens. This was the more\nstrange to me, because, about the end of August, though I had killed a\nwild cat, as I called it, with my gun, yet I thought it was quite a\ndifferent kind from our European cats: yet the young cats were the same\nkind of house-breed as the old one; and both of my cats being females, I\nthought it very strange. But from these three, I afterwards came to be\nso pestered with cats, that I was forced to kill them like vermin, or\nwild beasts, and to drive them from my house as much as possible.\nFrom the 14th of August to the 26th, incessant rain; so that I could not\nstir, and was now very careful not to be much wet. In this confinement,\nI began to be straitened for food; but venturing out twice, I one day\nkilled a goat, and the last day, which was the 26th, found a very large\ntortoise, which was a treat to me. My food was now regulated thus: I ate\na bunch of raisins for my breakfast; a piece of the goat's flesh, or of\nthe turtle, broiled, for my dinner (for, to my great misfortune, I had\nno vessel to boil or stew any thing;) and two or three of the turtle's\neggs for my supper.\nDuring this confinement in my cover by the rain, I worked daily two or\nthree hours at enlarging my cave, and by degrees worked it on towards\none side, till I came to the outside of the hill; and made a door, or\nway out, which came beyond my fence or wall: and so I came in and out\nthis way. But I was not perfectly easy at lying so open: for as I had\nmanaged myself before, I was in a perfect enclosure; whereas now, I\nthought I lay exposed; and yet I could not perceive that there was any\nliving thing to fear, the biggest creature that I had yet seen upon the\nisland being a goat.\n_September_ 30. I was now come to the unhappy anniversary of my landing.\nI cast up the notches on my post, and found I had been on shore three\nhundred and sixty-five days. I kept this day as a solemn fast; setting\nit apart for religious exercise, prostrating myself on the ground with\nthe most serious humiliation, confessing my sins to God, acknowledging\nhis righteous judgments upon me, and praying to him to have mercy on me\nthrough Jesus Christ; and having not tasted the least refreshment for\ntwelve hours, even till the going down of the sun, I then ate a biscuit\nand a bunch of grapes, and went to bed, finishing the day as I began it.\nI had all this time observed no sabbath-day; for as at first I had no\nsense of religion upon my mind, I had, after some time, omitted to\ndistinguish the weeks, by making a longer notch than ordinary for the\nsabbath-day, and so did not really know what any of the days were: but\nnow having cast up the days, as above, I found I had been there a year;\nso I divided it into weeks, and set apart every seventh day for a\nsabbath: though I found, at the end of my account, I had lost a day or\ntwo in my reckoning. A little after this, my ink beginning to fail me, I\ncontented myself to use it more sparingly; and to write down only the\nmost remarkable events of my life, without continuing a daily memorandum\nof other things.\nThe rainy season and the dry season began now to appear regular to me,\nand I learned to divide them so as to provide for them accordingly; but\nI bought all my experience before I had it; and what I am going to\nrelate was one of the most discouraging experiments that I had made\nat all.\nI have mentioned that I had saved the few ears of barley, and rice,\nwhich I had so surprisingly found sprung up, as I thought, of\nthemselves. I believe there were about thirty stalks of rice, and about\ntwenty of barley; and now I thought it a proper time to sow it after the\nrains; the sun being in its southern position, going from me.\nAccordingly I dug a piece of ground, as well as I could, with my wooden\nspade; and dividing it into two parts, I sowed my grain; but, as I was\nsowing, it casually occurred to my thoughts that I would not sow it all\nat first, because I did not know when was the proper time for it; so I\nsowed about two-thirds of the seed, leaving about a handful of each: and\nit was a great comfort to me afterwards that I did so, for not one grain\nof what I sowed this time came to any thing; for the dry month\nfollowing, and the earth having thus had no rain after the seed was\nsown, it had no moisture to assist its growth, and never came up at all\ntill the wet season had come again, and then it grew as if it had been\nbut newly sown. Finding my first seed did not grow, which I easily\nimagined was from the drought, I sought for a moister piece of ground to\nmake another trial in; and I dug up a piece of ground near my new bower,\nand sowed the rest of my seed in February, a little before the vernal\nequinox. This having the rainy month of March and April to water it,\nsprung up very pleasantly, and yielded a very good crop; but having only\npart of the seed left, and not daring to sow all that I had, I got but a\nsmall quantity at last, my whole crop not amounting to above half a peck\nof each kind. But by this experiment I was made master of my business,\nand knew exactly when was the proper time to sow; and that I might\nexpect two seed-times, and two harvests, every year.\nWhile this corn was growing, I made a little discovery, which was of use\nto me afterwards. As soon as the rains were over, and the weather began\nto settle, which was about the month of November, I made a visit up the\ncountry to my bower; where, though I had not been some months, yet I\nfound all things just as I left them. The circle or double hedge that I\nhad made was not only firm and entire, but the stakes which I had cut\nout of some trees that grew thereabouts, were all shot out, and grown\nwith long branches, as much as a willow-tree usually shoots the first\nyear after lopping its head; but I could not tell what tree to call it\nthat these stakes were cut from. I was surprised, and yet very well\npleased, to see the young trees grow; and I pruned them, and led them to\ngrow as much alike as I could: and it is scarce credible how beautiful a\nfigure they grew into in three years: so that, though the hedge made a\ncircle of about twenty-five yards in diameter, yet the trees, for such I\nmight now call them, soon covered it, and it was a complete shade,\nsufficient to lodge under all the dry season. This made me resolve to\ncut some more stakes, and make me a hedge like this, in a semi-circle\nround my wall (I mean that of my first dwelling,) which I did; and\nplacing the trees or stakes in a double row, at about eight yards\ndistance from my first fence, they grew presently; and were at first a\nfine cover to my habitation, and afterwards served for a defence also;\nas I shall observe in its order.\nI found now that the seasons of the year might generally be divided, not\ninto summer and winter, as in Europe, but into the rainy seasons and the\ndry seasons, which were generally thus: From the middle of February to\nthe middle of April, rainy; the sun being then on or near the equinox.\nFrom the middle of April till the middle of August, dry; the sun being\nthen north of the line. From the middle of August till the middle of\nOctober, rainy; the sun being then come back to the line. From the\nmiddle of October till the middle of February, dry; the sun being then\nto the south of the line.\nThe rainy seasons held sometimes longer and sometimes shorter, as the\nwinds happened to blow; but this was the general observation I made.\nAfter I had found, by experience, the ill consequences of being abroad\nin the rain, I took care to furnish myself with provisions beforehand,\nthat I might not be obliged to go out: and I sat within doors as much as\npossible during the wet months. In this time I found much employment,\nand very suitable also to the time; for I found great occasion for many\nthings which I had no way to furnish myself with, but by hard labour and\nconstant application: particularly, I tried many ways to make myself a\nbasket: but all the twigs I could get for the purpose proved so brittle,\nthat they would do nothing. It proved of excellent advantage to me now,\nthat when I was a boy, I used to take great delight in standing at a\nbasketmaker's in the town where my father lived, to see them make their\nwicker-ware; and being, as boys usually are, very officious to help, and\na great observer of the manner how they worked those things, and\nsometimes lending a hand, I had by these means full knowledge of the\nmethods of it, so that I wanted nothing but the materials; when it came\ninto my mind, that the twigs of that tree from whence I cut my stakes\nthat grew might possibly be as tough as the sallows, willows, and\nosiers, in England; and I resolved to try. Accordingly, the next day, I\nwent to my country house, as I called it; and cutting some of the\nsmaller twigs, I found them to my purpose as much as I could desire:\nwhereupon I came the next time prepared with a hatchet to cut down a\nquantity, which I soon found, for there was great plenty of them. These\nI set up to dry within my circle or hedge; and when they were fit for\nuse, I carried them to my cave: and here, during the next season, I\nemployed myself in making, as well as I could, several baskets; both to\ncarry earth, or to carry or lay up any thing as I had occasion for.\nThough I did not finish them very handsomely, yet I made them\nsufficiently serviceable for my purpose: and thus, afterwards, I took\ncare never to be without them; and as my wicker-ware decayed, I made\nmore; especially strong deep baskets, to place my corn in, instead of\nsacks, when I should come to have any quantity of it.\nHaving mastered this difficulty, and employed a world of time about it,\nI bestirred myself to see, if possible, how to supply two other wants. I\nhad no vessel to hold any thing that was liquid, except two runlets,\nwhich were almost full of rum; and some glass bottles, some of the\ncommon size, and others (which were case-bottles) square, for the\nholding of waters, spirits, &c. I had not so much as a pot to boil\nanything; except a great kettle, which I saved out of the ship, and\nwhich was too big for such use as I desired it, viz. to make broth, and\nstew a bit of meat by itself. The second thing I would fain have had,\nwas a tobacco-pipe; but it was impossible for me to make one; however, I\nfound a contrivance for that too at last. I employed myself in planting\nmy second row of stakes or piles, and also in this wicker-working, all\nthe summer or dry season; when another business took me up more time\nthan it could be imagined I could spare.\nI mentioned before, that I had a great mind to see the whole island; and\nthat I had travelled up the brook, and so on to where I had built my\nbower, and where I had an opening quite to the sea, on the other side of\nthe island. I now resolved to travel quite across to the sea-shore, on\nthat side: so taking my gun, a hatchet, and my dog, and a larger\nquantity of powder and shot than usual; with two biscuit-cakes, and a\ngreat bunch of raisins in my pouch, for my store; I began my journey.\nWhen I had passed the vale where my bower stood, as above, I came within\nview of the sea, to the west; and it being a very clear day, I fairly\ndescried land, whether an island or continent I could not tell; but it\nlay very high, extending from W. to W.S.W. at a very great distance; by\nmy guess, it could not be less than fifteen or twenty leagues off.\nI could not tell what part of the world this might be; otherwise than\nthat I knew it must be part of America; and, as I concluded, by all my\nobservations, must be near the Spanish dominions; and perhaps was all\ninhabited by savages, where, if I should have landed, I had been in a\nworse condition than I was now. I therefore acquiesced in the\ndispositions of Providence, which I began now to own and to believe\nordered every thing for the best; I say, I quieted my mind with this,\nand left off afflicting myself with fruitless wishes of being there.\nBesides, after some pause upon this affair, I considered that if this\nland was the Spanish coast, I should certainly, one time or other, see\nsome vessel pass or repass one way or other; but if not, then it was the\nsavage coast between the Spanish country and the Brazils, whose\ninhabitants are indeed the worst of savages; for they are cannibals, or\nmen-eaters, and fail not to murder and devour all human beings that fall\ninto their hands.\nWith these considerations, walking very leisurely forward, I found this\nside of the island, where I now was, much pleasanter than mine; the open\nor savannah fields sweetly adorned with flowers and grass, and full of\nvery fine woods. I saw abundance of parrots; and fain would have caught\none, if possible, to have kept it to be tame, and taught it to speak to\nme. I did, after taking some pains, catch a young parrot: for I knocked\nit down with a stick, and, having recovered it, I brought it home: but\nit was some years before I could make him speak; however, at last I\ntaught him to call me by my name very familiarly. But the accident that\nfollowed, though it be a trifle, will be very diverting in its place.\nI was exceedingly amused with this journey. I found in the low grounds\nhares, as I thought them to be, and foxes: but they differed greatly\nfrom all the other kinds I had met with; nor could I satisfy myself to\neat them, though I killed several. But I had no need to be venturous:\nfor I had no want of food, and of that which was very good too;\nespecially these three sorts, viz. goats, pigeons, and turtle, or\ntortoise. With these, added to my grapes, Leadenhall-Market could not\nhave furnished a table better than I, in proportion to the company; and\nthough my case was deplorable enough, yet I had great cause for\nthankfulness; as I was not driven to any extremities for food; but had\nrather plenty, even to dainties.\nI never travelled on this journey above two miles outright in a day, or\nthereabouts; but I took so many turns and returns, to see what\ndiscoveries I could make, that I came weary enough to the place where I\nresolved to sit down for the night; and then I either reposed myself in\na tree, or surrounded myself with a row of stakes, set upright in the\nground, either from one tree to another, or so as no wild creature could\ncome at me without waking me.\nAs soon as I came to the sea-shore, I was surprised to see that I had\ntaken up my lot on the worst side of the island: for here indeed the\nshore was covered with innumerable turtles; whereas, on the other side,\nI had found but three in a year and a half. Here was also an infinite\nnumber of fowls of many kinds; some of which I had seen, and some of\nwhich I had not seen before, and many of them very good meat; but such\nas I knew not the names of, except those called Penguins.\nI could have shot as many as I pleased, but was very sparing of my\npowder and shot; and therefore had more mind to kill a she-goat, if I\ncould, which I could better feed on. But though there were many goats\nhere, more than on my side the island, yet it was with much more\ndifficulty that I could come near them; the country being flat and even,\nand they saw me much sooner than when I was upon a hill.\nI confess this side of the country was much pleasanter than mine; yet I\nhad not the least inclination to remove; for as I was fixed in my\nhabitation, it became natural to me, and I seemed all the while I was\nhere to be as it were upon a journey, and from home. However, I\ntravelled along the sea-shore towards the east, I suppose about twelve\nmiles; and then setting up a great pole upon the shore for a mark, I\nconcluded I would go home again; and that the next journey I took should\nbe on the other side of the island, east from my dwelling, and so round\ntill I came to my post again: of which in its place.\nI took another way to come back than that I went, thinking I could\neasily keep so much of the island in my view, that I could not miss my\nfirst dwelling by viewing the country: but I found myself mistaken; for\nbeing come about two or three miles, I found myself descended into a\nvery large valley, but so surrounded with hills, and those hills covered\nwith wood, that I could not see which was my way by any direction but\nthat of the sun, nor even then, unless I knew very well the position of\nthe sun at that time of the day. And it happened to my farther\nmisfortune, that the weather proved hazy for three or four days while I\nwas in this valley; and not being able to see the sun, I wandered about\nvery uncomfortable, and at last was obliged to find out the sea-side,\nlook for my post, and come back the same way I went; and then by easy\njournies I turned homeward, the weather being exceeding hot, and my gun,\nammunition, hatchet, and other things very heavy.\nIn this journey, my dog surprised a young kid, and seized upon it; and\nrunning to take hold of it, I caught it, and saved it alive from the\ndog. I had a great mind to bring it home if I could; for I had often\nbeen musing whether it might not be possible to get a kid or two, and so\nraise a breed of tame goats, which might supply me when my powder and\nshot should be all spent. I made a collar for this little creature, and\nwith a string which I had made of some rope-yarn, which I always carried\nabout me, I led him along, though with some difficulty, till I came to\nmy bower, and there I enclosed him and left him; for I was very\nimpatient to be at home, from whence I had been absent above a month.\nI cannot express what a satisfaction it was to me to come into my old\nhutch, and lie down in my hammock-bed. This little wandering journey,\nwithout a settled place of abode, had been so unpleasant to me, that my\nown house, as I called it to myself, was a perfect settlement to me,\ncompared to that; and it rendered every thing about me so comfortable,\nthat I resolved I would never go a great way from it again, while it\nshould be my lot to stay on the island.\nI reposed myself here a week, to rest and regale myself after my long\njourney: during which, most of the time was taken up in the weighty\naffair of making a cage for my Pol, who began now to be more domestic,\nand to be mighty well acquainted with me. Then I began to think of the\npoor kid which I had penned within my little circle, and resolved to\nfetch it home, or give it some food: accordingly I went, and found it\nwhere I left it (for indeed it could not get out,) but was almost\nstarved for want of food. I went and cut boughs of trees, and branches\nof such shrubs as I could find, and threw it over, and having fed it, I\ntied it as I did before, to lead it away; but it was so tame with being\nhungry, that I had no need to have tied it, for it followed me like a\ndog: and as I continually fed it, the creature became so loving, so\ngentle, and so fond, that it was from that time one of my domestics\nalso, and would never leave me afterwards.\nThe rainy season of the autumnal equinox was now come, and I kept the\n30th of September in the same solemn manner as before, being the\nanniversary of my landing on the island; having now been there two\nyears, and no more prospect of being delivered than the first day I came\nthere. I spent the whole day in humble and thankful acknowledgments for\nthe many wonderful mercies which my solitary condition was attended\nwith, and without which it might have been infinitely more miserable. I\ngave humble and hearty thanks to God for having been pleased to discover\nto me, that it was possible I might be more happy even in this solitary\ncondition, than I should have been in the enjoyment of society, and in\nall the pleasures of the world: that he could fully make up to me the\ndeficiencies of my solitary state, and the wont of human society, by his\npresence, and the communications of his grace to my soul; supporting,\ncomforting, and encouraging me to depend upon his providence here, and\nto hope for his eternal presence hereafter.\nIt was now that I began sensibly to feel how much more happy the life I\nnow led was, with all its miserable circumstances, than the wicked,\ncursed, abominable life I led all the past part of my days: and now I\nchanged both my sorrows and my joys: my very desires altered, my\naffections changed their gusts, and my delights were perfectly new from\nwhat they were at my first coming, or indeed for the two years past.\nBefore, as I walked about, either on my hunting, or for viewing the\ncountry, the anguish of my soul at my condition would break out upon me\non a sudden, and my very heart would die within me, to think of the\nwoods, the mountains, the deserts I was in; and how I was a prisoner,\nlocked up with the eternal bars and bolts of the ocean, in an\nuninhabited wilderness, without redemption. In the midst of the greatest\ncomposures of my mind, this would break out upon me like a storm, and\nmake me wring my hands, and weep like a child: sometimes it would take\nme in the middle of my work, and I would immediately sit down and sigh,\nand look upon the ground for an hour or two together: this was still\nworse to me; but if I could burst into tears, or give vent to my\nfeelings by words, it would go off; and my grief being exhausted,\nwould abate.\nBut now I began to exercise myself with new thoughts; I daily read the\nword of God, and applied all the comforts of it to my present state. One\nmorning, being very sad, I opened the Bible upon these words, \"I will\nnever leave thee, nor forsake thee:\" immediately it occurred that these\nwords were to me; why else should they be directed in such a manner,\njust at the moment when I was mourning over my condition, as one\nforsaken of God and man? \"Well then,\" said I, \"if God does not forsake\nme, of what ill consequence can it be, or what matters it, though the\nworld should forsake me; seeing on the other hand, if I had all the\nworld, and should lose the favour and blessing of God, there would be no\ncomparison in the loss?\"\nFrom this moment I began to conclude in my mind, that it was possible\nfor me to be more happy in this forsaken, solitary condition, than it\nwas probable I should ever have been in any other particular state in\nthe world; and with this thought I was going to give thanks to God for\nbringing me to this place. I know not what it was, but something shocked\nmy mind at that thought and I durst not speak the words. \"How canst thou\nbe such a hypocrite,\" said I, even audibly, \"to pretend to be thankful\nfor a condition, which, however thou mayest endeavour to be contented\nwith, thou wouldest rather pray heartily to be delivered from?\" Here I\nstopped: but though I could not say I thanked God for being here, yet I\nsincerely gave thanks to God for opening my eyes, by whatever afflicting\nprovidences, to see the former condition of my life, and to mourn for my\nwickedness, and repent. I never opened the Bible, or shut it, but my\nvery soul within me blessed God for directing my friend in England,\nwithout any order of mine, to pack it up among my goods; and for\nassisting me afterwards to save it out of the wreck of the ship.\nThus, and in this disposition of mind, I began my third year; and though\nI have not given the reader the trouble of so particular an account of\nmy works this year as the first, yet in general it may be observed, that\nI was very seldom idle; but having regularly divided my time, according\nto the several daily employments that were before me; such as, first, My\nduty to God, and the reading the Scriptures, which I constantly set\napart some time for, thrice every day: secondly, Going abroad with my\ngun for food, which generally took me up three hours every morning, when\nit did not rain: thirdly, Ordering, curing, preserving, and cooking what\nI had killed or catched for my supply: these took up great part of the\nday; also it is to be considered, that in the middle of the day, when\nthe sun was in the zenith, the violence of the heat was too great to\nstir out; so that about four hours in the evening was all the time I\ncould be supposed to work in; with this exception, that sometimes I\nchanged my hours of hunting and working, and went to work in the\nmorning, and abroad with my gun in the afternoon.\nTo this short time allowed for labour, I desire may be added the\nexceeding laboriousness of my work; the many hours which, for want of\ntools, want of help, and want of skill, every thing I did took up out of\nmy time: for example, I was full two and forty days making me a board\nfor a long shelf, which I wanted in my cave; whereas, two sawyers, with\ntheir tools and a saw-pit, would have cut six of them out of the same\ntree in half a day.\nMy case was this; it was a large tree which was to be cut down, because\nmy board was to be a broad one. This tree I was three days cutting down,\nand two more in cutting off the boughs, and reducing it to a log, or\npiece of timber. With inexpressible hacking and hewing, I reduced both\nthe sides of it into chips, till it was light enough to move; then I\nturned it, and made one side of it smooth and flat as a board, from end\nto end; then turning that side downward, cut the other side, till I\nbrought the plank to be about three inches thick, and smooth on both\nsides. Any one may judge the labour of my hands in such a piece of work;\nbut labour and patience carried me through that, and many other things:\nI only observe this in particular, to show the reason why so much of my\ntime went away with so little work, viz. that what might be a little to\nbe done with help and tools, was a vast labour, and required a\nprodigious time to do alone, and by hand. Notwithstanding this, with\npatience and labour I went through many things; and, indeed, every thing\nthat my circumstances made necessary for me to do, as will appear by\nwhat follows.\nI was now in the months of November and December, expecting my crop of\nbarley and rice. The ground I had manured or dug up for them was not\ngreat; for, as I observed, my seed of each was not above the quantity of\nhalf a peck, having lost one whole crop by sowing in the dry season: but\nnow my crop promised very well; when, on a sudden, I found I was in\ndanger of losing it all again by enemies of several sorts, which it was\nscarce possible to keep from it; as, first, the goats, and wild\ncreatures which I called hares, who, tasting the sweetness of the blade,\nlay in it night and day, as soon as it came up, and ate it so close,\nthat it could get no time to shoot up into stalk.\nI saw no remedy for this, but by making an enclosure about it with a\nhedge, which I did with a great deal of toil; and the more, because it\nrequired speed. However, as my arable land was but small, suited to my\ncrop, I got it tolerably well fenced in about three weeks' time; and\nshooting some of the creatures in the day-time, I set my dog to guard it\nin the night, tying him up to a stake at the gate, where he would stand\nand bark all night long; so in a little time the enemies forsook the\nplace, and the corn grew very strong and well, and began to ripen apace.\nBut as the beasts ruined me before, while my corn was in the blade, so\nthe birds were as likely to ruin me now, when it was in the ear: for\ngoing along by the place to see how it throve, I saw my little crop\nsurrounded with fowls, I know not of how many sorts, who stood, as it\nwere, watching till I should be gone. I immediately let fly among them\n(for I always had my gun with me;) I had no sooner shot, but there rose\nup a little cloud of fowls, which I had not seen at all, from among the\ncorn itself.\nThis touched me sensibly, for I foresaw that in a few days they would\ndevour all my hopes; that I should be starved, and never be able to\nraise a crop at all; and what to do I could not tell: however, I\nresolved not to lose my corn, if possible, though I should watch it\nnight and day. In the first place, I went among it, to see what damage\nwas already done, and found they had spoiled a good deal of it; but that\nas it was yet too green for them, the loss was not so great, but that\nthe remainder was likely to be a good crop, if it could be saved.\nI staid by it to load my gun, and then coming away, I could easily see\nthe thieves sitting upon all the trees about me, as if they only waited\ntill I was gone away; and the event proved it to be so; for as I walked\noff, as if gone, I was no sooner out of their sight, than they dropt\ndown, one by one, into the corn again. I was so provoked, that I could\nnot have patience to stay till more came on, knowing that every grain\nthey eat now was, as it might be said, a peck-loaf to me in the\nconsequence; so coming up to the hedge, I fired again, and killed three\nof them. This was what I wished for; so I took them up, and served them\nas we serve notorious thieves in England, viz. hanged them in chains,\nfor a terror to others. It is impossible to imagine that this should\nhave such an effect as it had; for the fowls not only never came to the\ncorn, but, in short, they forsook all that part of the island, and I\ncould never see a bird near the place as long as my scare-crows hung\nthere. This I was very glad of, you may be sure; and about the latter\nend of December, which was our second harvest of the year, I reaped\nmy corn.\nI was sadly put to it for a scythe or sickle to cut it down: and all I\ncould do was to make one as well as I could, out of one of the broad\nswords, or cutlasses, which I saved among the arms out of the ship.\nHowever, as my first crop was but small, I had no great difficulty to\ncut it down: in short, I reaped it my way, for I cut nothing off but the\nears, and carried it away in a great basket which I had made, and so\nrubbed it out with my hands; and at the end of all my harvesting, I\nfound that out of my half peck of seed I had near two bushels of rice,\nand above two bushels and a half of barley; that is to say, by my guess,\nfor I had no measure.\nHowever, this was great encouragement to me; and I foresaw that, in\ntime, it would please God to supply me with bread; and yet here I was\nperplexed again; for I neither knew how to grind, or make meal of my\ncorn, or indeed how to clean it and part it; nor if made into meal, how\nto make bread of it; and if how to make it, yet I knew not how to bake\nit: these things being added to my desire of having a good quantity for\nstore, and to secure a constant supply, I resolved not to taste any of\nthis crop, but to preserve it all for seed against the next season; and,\nin the mean tune, to employ all my study and hours of working to\naccomplish this great work of providing myself with corn and bread.\nIt might be truly said, that now I worked for my bread. It is a little\nwonderful, and what I believe few people have thought much upon, viz.\nthe strange multitude of little things necessary in the providing,\nproducing, curing, dressing, making, and finishing this one article\nof bread.\nI, that was reduced to a mere state of nature, found this to my daily\ndiscouragement, and was made more sensible of it every hour, even after\nI had got the first handful of seed-corn which, as I have said, came up\nunexpectedly, and indeed to a surprise.\nFirst, I had no plough to turn up the earth; no spade or shovel to dig\nit: well, this I conquered by making a wooden spade, as I observed\nbefore; but this did my work but in a wooden manner; and though it cost\nme a great many days to make it, yet, for want of iron, it not only wore\nout the sooner, but made my work the harder, and performed it much\nworse. However, this I bore with, and was content to work it out with\npatience, and bear with the badness of the performance. When the corn\nwas sown, I had no harrow, but was forced to go over it myself, and drag\na great heavy bough of a tree over it, to scratch it, as it may be\ncalled, rather than rake or harrow it. When it was growing and grown, I\nhave observed already how many things I wanted to fence it, secure it,\nmow or reap it, cure and carry it home, thrash, part it from the chaff,\nand save it: then I wanted a mill to grind it, sieves to dress it, yeast\nand salt to make it into bread, and an oven to bake it; and yet all\nthese things I did without, as shall be observed; and the corn was an\ninestimable comfort and advantage to me: all this, as I said, made every\nthing laborious and tedious to me, but that there was no help for;\nneither was my time so much loss to me, because, as I had divided it, a\ncertain part of it, was every day appointed to these works; and as I\nresolved to use none of the corn for bread till I had a greater quantity\nby me, I had the next six months to apply myself wholly, by labour and\ninvention, to furnish myself with utensils proper for the performing all\nthe operations necessary for making corn fit for my use.\nBut now I was to prepare more land; for I had seed enough to sow above\nan acre of ground. Before I did this, I had a week's work at least to\nmake me a spade; which, when it was done, was but a sorry one indeed,\nand very heavy, and required double labour to work with it: however, I\nwent through that, and sowed my seed in two large flat pieces of ground,\nas near my house as I could find them to my mind, and fenced them in\nwith a good hedge; the stakes of which were all cut off that wood which\nI had set before, and knew it would grow; so that, in one year's time, I\nknew I should have a quick or living hedge, that would want but little\nrepair. This work took me up full three months; because a great part of\nthe time was in the wet season, when I could not go abroad. Within\ndoors, that is, when it rained, and I could not go out, I found\nemployment on the following occasions; always observing, that while I\nwas at work, I diverted myself with talking to my parrot, and teaching\nhim to speak; and I quickly learned him to know his own name, and at\nlast to speak it out pretty loud, Pol; which was the first word I ever\nheard spoken in the island by any mouth but my own. This, therefore, was\nnot my work, but an assistant to my work; for now, as I said, I had a\ngreat employment upon my hands, as follows: I had long studied, by some\nmeans or other, to make myself some earthen vessels, which indeed I\nwanted much, but knew not where to come at them: however, considering\nthe heat of the climate, I did not doubt but if I could find out any\nclay, I might botch up some such pot as might, being dried in the sun,\nbe hard and strong enough to bear handling, and to hold any thing that\nwas dry, and required to be kept so; and as this was necessary in the\npreparing corn, meal, &c. which was the thing I was upon, I resolved to\nmake some as large as I could, and fit only to stand like jars, to hold\nwhat should be put into them.\nIt would make the reader pity me, or rather laugh at me, to tell how\nmany awkward ways I took to raise this pastil; what odd, misshapen, ugly\nthings I made; how many of them fell in, and how many fell out, the clay\nnot being stiff enough to bear its own weight; how many cracked by the\nover violent heat of the sun, being set out too hastily; and how many\nfell in pieces with only removing, as well before as after they were\ndried: and, in a word, how, after having laboured hard to find the\nclay, to dig it, to temper it, to bring it home, and work it, I could\nnot make above two large earthen ugly things (I cannot call them jars)\nin about two months' labour.\nHowever, as the sun baked these two very dry and hard, I lifted them\nvery gently up, and set them down again in two great wicker baskets,\nwhich I had made on purpose for them, that they might not break; and as\nbetween the pot and the basket there was a little room to spare, I\nstuffed it full of the rice and barley-straw; and these two pots being\nto stand always dry, I thought would hold my dry corn, and perhaps the\nmeal, when the corn was bruised.\nThough I miscarried so much in my design for large pots, yet I made\nseveral smaller things with better success; such as little round pots,\nflat dishes, pitchers, and pipkins, and any thing my hand turned to; and\nthe heat of the sun baked them very hard.\nBut all this would not answer my end, which was to get an earthen pot to\nhold liquids, and bear the fire, which none of these could do. It\nhappened some time after, making a pretty large fire for cooking my\nmeat, when I went to put it out after I had done with it, I found a\nbroken piece of one of my earthen-ware vessels in the fire, burnt as\nhard as a stone, and red as a tile. I was agreeably surprised to see it;\nand said to myself, that certainly they might be made to burn whole, if\nthey would burn broken.\nThis set me to study how to order my fire, so as to make it burn some\npots. I had no notion of a kiln, such as the potters burn in, or of\nglazing them with lead, though I had some lead to do it with; but I\nplaced three large pipkins and two or three pots in a pile, one upon\nanother, and placed my fire-wood all round it, with a great heap of\nembers under them. I plied the fire with fresh fuel round the outside,\nand upon the top, till I saw the pots in the inside red-hot quite\nthrough, and observed that they did not crack at all: when I saw them\nclear red, I let them stand in that heat about five or six hours, till I\nfound one of them, though it did not crack, did melt or run; for the\nsand which was mixed with the clay melted by the violence of the heat,\nand would have run into glass, if I had gone on; so I slacked my fire\ngradually, till the pots began to abate of the red colour; and watching\nthem all night, that I might not let the fire abate too fast, in the\nmorning I had three very good, I will not say handsome, pipkins, and two\nother earthen pots, as hard burnt as could be desired; and one of them\nperfectly glazed with the running of the sand.\nAfter this experiment, I need not say that I wanted no sort of\nearthen-ware for my use; but I must needs say, as to the shapes of them,\nthey were very indifferent, as any one may suppose, as I had no way of\nmaking them but as the children make dirt pies, or as a woman would make\npies that never learned to raise paste.\nNo joy at a thing of so mean a nature was ever equal to mine, when I\nfound I had made an earthen pot that would bear the fire; and I had\nhardly patience to stay till they were cold, before I set one on the\nfire again, with some water in it, to boil me some meat, which it did\nadmirably well; and with a piece of a kid I made some very good broth;\nthough I wanted oatmeal, and several other ingredients requisite to make\nit so good as I would have had it been.\nMy next concern was to get a stone mortar to stamp or beat some corn in;\nfor as to the mill, there was no thought of arriving to that perfection\nof art with one pair of hands. To supply this want I was at a great\nloss; for, of all trades in the world, I was as perfectly unqualified\nfor a stonecutter, as for any whatever; neither had I any tools to go\nabout it with. I spent many a day to find out a great stone big enough\nto cut hollow, and make fit for a mortar; but could find none at all,\nexcept what was in the solid rock, and which I had no way to dig or cut\nout: nor, indeed, were the rocks in the island of sufficient hardness,\nas they were all of a sandy crumbling stone, which would neither bear\nthe weight of a heavy pestle, nor would break the corn without filling\nit with sand: so, after a great deal of time lost in searching for a\nstone, I gave it over, and resolved to look out a great block of hard\nwood, which I found indeed much easier; and getting one as big as I had\nstrength to stir, I rounded it, and formed it on the outside with my axe\nand hatchet; and then, with the help of fire, and infinite labour, made\na hollow place in it, as the Indians in Brazil make their canoes. After\nthis, I made a great heavy pestle, or beater, of the wood called\niron-wood; and this I prepared and laid by against I had my next crop of\ncorn, when I proposed to myself to grind, or rather pound, my corn into\nmeal, to make my bread.\nMy next difficulty was to make a sieve, or searce, to dress my meal,\nand to part it from the bran and the husk, without which I did not see\nit possible I could have any bread. This was a most difficult thing,\neven but to think on; for I had nothing like the necessary thing to make\nit; I mean fine thin canvass or stuff, to searce the meal through. Here\nI was at a full stop for many months; nor did I really know what to do;\nlinen I had none left, but what was mere rags; I had goats'-hair, but\nneither knew how to weave it nor spin it; and had I known how, here were\nno tools to work it with: all the remedy I found for this was, at last\nrecollecting I had, among the seamen's clothes which were saved out of\nthe ship, some neckcloths of calico or muslin, with some pieces of these\nI made three small sieves, proper enough for the work; and thus I made\nshift for some years: how I did afterwards, I shall show in its place.\nThe baking part was the next thing to be considered, and how I should\nmake bread when I came to have corn: for, first, I had no yeast: as to\nthat part there was no supplying the want, so I did not concern myself\nmuch about it; but for an oven I was indeed puzzled. At length I found\nout an expedient for that also, which was this; I made some earthen\nvessels, very broad, but not deep, that is to say, about two feet\ndiameter, and not above nine inches deep: these I burned in the fire, as\nI had done the other, and laid them by; and when I wanted to bake, I\nmade a great fire upon my hearth, which I had paved with some square\ntiles, of my own making and burning also; but I should not call\nthem square.\nWhen the fire-wood was burned into embers, or live coals, I drew them\nforward upon the hearth, so as to cover it all over, and there let them\nlie till the hearth was very hot; then sweeping away all the embers, I\nset down my loaf, or loaves, and covering them with the earthen pot,\ndrew the embers all round the outside of the pot, to keep in and add to\nthe heat; and thus, as well as in the best oven in the world, I baked my\nbarley-loaves, and became, in a little time, a good pastry-cook into the\nbargain; for I made myself several cakes and puddings of the rice; but\nmade no pies, as I had nothing to put into them except the flesh of\nfowls or goats.\nIt need not be wondered at, if all these things took me up most part of\nthe third year of my abode here; for, it is to be observed, in the\nintervals of these things, I had my new harvest and husbandry to manage:\nI reaped my corn in its season, and carried it home as well as I could,\nand laid it up in the ear, in my large baskets, till I had time to rub\nit out; for I had no floor to thrash it on, or instrument to thrash\nit with.\nAnd now, indeed, my stock of corn increasing, I really wanted to build\nmy barns bigger: I wanted a place to lay it up in; for the increase of\nthe corn now yielded me so much, that I had of the barley about twenty\nbushels, and of rice as much, or more, insomuch that now I resolved to\nbegin to use it freely; for my bread had been quite gone a great while:\nI resolved also to see what quantity would be sufficient for me a whole\nyear, and to sow but once a year.\nUpon the whole, I found that the forty bushels of barley and rice were\nmuch more than I could consume in a year; so I resolved to sow just the\nsame quantity every year that I sowed the last, in hopes that such a\nquantity would fully provide me with bread, &c.\nAll the while these things were doing, you may be sure my thoughts ran\nmany times upon the prospect of land which I had seen from the other\nside of the island; and I was not without some secret wishes that I was\non shore there; fancying, that seeing the main land, and an inhabited\ncountry, I might find some way or other to convey myself farther, and\nperhaps at last find some means of escape.\nBut all this while I made no allowance for the dangers of such a\ncondition, and that I might fall into the hands of savages, and perhaps\nsuch as I might have reason to think far worse than the lions and tigers\nof Africa; that if I once came in their power, I should run a hazard of\nmore than a thousand to one of being killed, and perhaps of being eaten;\nfor I had heard that the people of the Caribbean coast were cannibals,\nor man-eaters; and I knew, by the latitude, that I could not be far off\nfrom that shore. Then supposing they were not cannibals, yet that they\nmight kill me, as they had many Europeans who had fallen into their\nhands, even when they have been ten or twenty together; much more I, who\nwas but one, and could makee little or no defence; all these things, I\nsay, which I ought to have considered well of, and did cast up in my\nthoughts afterwards, took up none of my apprehensions at first; yet my\nhead ran mightily upon the thought of getting over to the shore.\nNow I wished for my boy Xury, and the long-boat with the\nshoulder-of-mutton sail, with which I sailed above a thousand miles on\nthe coast of Africa; but this was in vain: then I thought I would go and\nlook at our ship's boat, which, as I have said, was blown up upon the\nshore a great way, in the storm, when we were first cast away. She lay\nnearly where she did at first, but not quite; having turned, by the\nforce of the waves and the winds, almost bottom upward, against a high\nridge of beachy rough sand; but no water about her, as before. If I had\nhad hands to have refitted her, and to have launched her into the water,\nthe boat would have done very well, and I might have gone back into the\nBrazils with her easily enough; but I might have foreseen, that I could\nno more turn her and set her upright upon her bottom, than I could\nremove the island; however, I went to the woods, and cut levers and\nrollers, and brought them to the boat, resolving to try what I could do;\nsuggesting to myself, that if I could but turn her down, and repair the\ndamage she had received, she would be a very good boat, and I might\nventure to sea in her.\nI spared no pains, indeed, in this piece of fruitless toil, and spent, I\nthink, three or four weeks about it: at last, finding it impossible to\nheave her up with my little strength, I fell to digging away the sand,\nto undermine her, and so as to make her fall down, setting pieces of\nwood to thrust and guide her right in the fall.\nBut when I had done this, I was unable to stir her up again, or to get\nunder her, much less to move her forward towards the water; so I was\nforced to give it over: and yet, though I gave over the hopes of the\nboat, my desire to venture over the main increased, rather than\ndiminished, as the means for it seemed impossible.\nAt length, I began to think whether it was not possible to make myself a\ncanoe, or periagua, such as the natives of those climates make, even\nwithout tools, or, as I might say, without hands, of the trunk of a\ngreat tree. This I not only thought possible, but easy, and pleased\nmyself extremely with the idea of making it, and with my having much\nmore convenience for it than any of the Negroes or Indians; but not at\nall considering the particular inconveniences which I lay under more\nthan the Indians did, viz. the want of hands to move it into the water\nwhen it was made, a difficulty much harder for me to surmount than all\nthe consequences of want of tools could be to them: for what could it\navail me, if, after I had chosen my tree, and with much trouble cut it\ndown, and might be able with my tools to hew and dub the outside into\nthe proper shape of a boat, and burn or cut out the inside to make it\nhollow, so as to make a boat of it; if, after all this, I must leave it\njust where I found it, and was not able to launch it into the water?\nOne would imagine, if I had had the least reflection upon my mind of my\ncircumstances while I was making this boat, I should have immediately\nthought how I was to get it into the sea: but my thoughts were so intent\nupon my voyage in it, that I never once considered how I should get it\noff the land; and it was really, in its own nature, more easy for me to\nguide it over forty-five miles of sea, than the forty-five fathoms of\nland, where it lay, to set it afloat in the water.\nI went to work upon this boat the most like a fool that ever man did,\nwho had any of his senses awake. I pleased myself with the design,\nwithout determining whether I was able to undertake it; not but that the\ndifficulty of launching my boat came often into my head; but I put a\nstop to my own inquiries into it, by this foolish answer: Let me first\nmake it; I warrant I will find some way or other to get it along when\nit is done.\nThis was a most preposterous method; but the eagerness of my fancy\nprevailed, and to work I went. I felled a cedar tree, and I question\nmuch whether Solomon ever had such a one for the building of the Temple\nat Jerusalem; it was five feet ten inches diameter at the lower part\nnext the stump, and four feet eleven inches diameter at the end of\ntwenty-two feet, where it lessened, and then parted into branches. It\nwas not without infinite labour that I felled this tree; I was twenty\ndays hacking and hewing at the bottom, and fourteen more getting the\nbranches and limbs, and the vast spreading head of it, cut off: after\nthis, it cost me a month to shape it and dub it to a proportion, and to\nsomething like the bottom of a boat, that it might swim upright as it\nought to do. It cost me near three months more to clear the inside, and\nwork it out so as to make an exact boat of it: this I did, indeed,\nwithout fire, by mere mallet and chisel, and by the dint of hard labour,\ntill I had brought it to be a very handsome periagua, and big enough to\nhave carried six and twenty men, and consequently big enough to have\ncarried me and all my cargo.\nWhen I had gone through this work, I was extremely delighted with it.\nThe boat was really much bigger than ever I saw a canoe or periagua,\nthat was made of one tree, in my life. Many a weary stroke it had cost,\nyou may be sure; and there remained nothing but to get it into the\nwater; which, had I accomplished, I make no question but I should have\nbegun the maddest voyage, and the most unlikely to be performed, that\never was undertaken.\nBut all my devices to get it into the water failed me; though they cost\nme inexpressible labour too. It lay about one hundred yards from the\nwater, and not more; but the first inconvenience was, it was up hill\ntowards the creek. Well, to take away this discouragement, I resolved to\ndig into the surface of the earth, and so make a declivity: this I\nbegun, and it cost me a prodigious deal of pains; (but who grudge pains\nthat have their deliverance in view?) when this was worked through, and\nthis difficulty managed, it was still much the same, for I could no more\nstir the canoe than I could the other boat. Then I measured the distance\nof ground, and resolved to cut a dock or canal, to bring the water up to\nthe canoe, seeing I could not bring the canoe down to the water. Well, I\nbegan this work; and when I began to enter upon it, and calculate how\ndeep it was to be dug, how broad, how the stuff was to be thrown out, I\nfound by the number of hands I had, having none but my own, that it must\nhave been ten or twelve years before I could have gone through with it;\nfor the shore lay so high, that at the upper end it must have been at\nleast twenty feet deep; this attempt, though with great reluctancy, I\nwas at length obliged to give over also.\nThis grieved me heartily; and now I saw, though too late, the folly of\nbeginning a work before we count the cost, and before we judge rightly\nof our own strength to go through with it.\nIn the middle of this work, I finished my fourth year in this place, and\nkept my anniversary with the same devotion, and with as much comfort as\nbefore; for, by a constant study and serious application to the word of\nGod, and by the assistance of his grace, I gained a different knowledge\nfrom what I had before; I entertained different notions of things; I\nlooked now upon the world as a thing remote, which I had nothing to do\nwith, no expectation from, and, indeed, no desires about: in a word, I\nhad nothing to do with it, nor was ever likely to have; I thought it\nlooked, as we may perhaps look upon it hereafter, viz. as, a place I had\nlived in, but was come out of it; and well might I say, as father\nAbraham to Dives, \"Between me and thee is a great gulf fixed.\"\nIn the first place, I was here removed from all the wickedness of the\nworld; I had neither the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, nor the\npride of life. I had nothing to covet, for I had all that I was now\ncapable of enjoying: I was lord of the whole manor; or, if I pleased, I\nmight call myself king or emperor over the whole country which I had\npossession of; there were no rivals; I had no competitor, none to\ndispute sovereignty or command with me: I might have raised\nship-loadings of corn, but I had no use for it; so I let as little grow\nas I thought enough for my occasion. I had tortoise or turtle enough,\nbut now and then one was as much as I could put to any use: I had timber\nenough to have built a fleet of ships; and I had grapes enough to have\nmade wine, or to have cured into raisins, to have loaded that fleet when\nit had been built.\nBut all I could make use of was all that was valuable: I had enough to\neat and supply my wants, and what was the rest to me? If I killed more\nflesh than I could eat, the dog must eat it, or vermin; if I sowed more\ncorn than I could eat, it must be spoiled; the trees that I cut down\nwere lying to rot on the ground; I could make no more use of them than\nfor fuel, and that I had no other occasion for but to dress my food.\nIn a word, the nature and experience of things dictated to me, upon just\nreflection, that all the good things of this world, are of no farther\ngood to us than for our use; and that whatever we may heap up to give\nothers, we enjoy only as much as we can use, and no more. The most\ncovetous griping miser in the world would have been cured of the vice of\ncovetousness, if he had been in my case; for I possessed infinitely more\nthan I knew what to do with. I had no room for desire, except it was for\nthings which I had not, and they were comparatively but trifles, though\nindeed of great use to me. I had, as I hinted before, a parcel of money,\nas well gold as silver, about thirty-six pounds sterling. Alas! there\nthe nasty, sorry, useless stuff lay: I had no manner of business for\nit; and I often thought within myself, that I would have given a handful\nof it for a gross of tobacco-pipes, or for a hand-mill to grind my corn;\nnay, I would have given it all for sixpenny-worth of turnip and carrot\nseed from England, or for a handful of peas and beans, and a bottle of\nink. As it was, I had not the least advantage by it, or benefit from it;\nbut there it lay in a drawer, and grew mouldy with the damp of the cave\nin the wet seasons; and if I had had the drawer full of diamonds, it had\nbeen the same case,--they had been of no manner of value to me because\nof no use.\nI had now brought my state of life to be much more comfortable in itself\nthan it was at first, and much easier to my mind, as well as to my body.\nI frequently sat down to meat with thankfulness, and admired the hand of\nGod's providence, which had thus spread my table in the wilderness: I\nlearned to look more upon the bright side of my condition, and less upon\nthe dark side, and to consider what I enjoyed, rather than what I\nwanted: and this gave me sometimes such secret comforts, that I cannot\nexpress them; and which I take notice of here, to put those discontented\npeople in mind of it, who cannot enjoy comfortably what God has given\nthem, because they see and covet something that he has not given them.\nAll our discontents about what we want, appeared to me to spring from\nthe want of thankfulness for what we have.\nAnother reflection was of great use to me, and doubtless would be so to\nany one that should fall into such distress as mine was; and this was,\nto compare my present condition with what I at first expected it would\nbe; nay, with what it would certainly have been, if the good providence\nof God had not wonderfully ordered the ship to be cast up near to the\nshore, where I not only could come at her, but could bring what I got\nout of her to the shore, for my relief and comfort; without which, I had\nwanted for tools to work, weapons for defence, and gunpowder and shot\nfor getting my food.\nI spent whole hours, I may say whole days, in representing to myself, in\nthe most lively colours, how I must have acted if I had got nothing out\nof the ship. I could not have so much as got any food, except fish and\nturtles; and that, as it was long before I found any of them, I must\nhave perished; that I should have lived, if I had not perished, like a\nmere savage; that if I had killed a goat or a fowl, by any contrivance,\nI had no way to flay or open it, or part the flesh from the skin and the\nbowels, or to cut it up; but must gnaw it with my teeth, and pull it\nwith my claws, like a beast.\nThese reflections made me very sensible of the goodness of Providence to\nme, and very thankful for my present condition, with all its hardships\nand misfortunes: and this part also I cannot but recommend to the\nreflection of those who are apt, in their misery, to say, Is any\naffliction like mine? Let them consider how much worse the cases of some\npeople are, and their case might have been, if Providence had\nthought fit.\nI had another reflection, which assisted me also to comfort my mind with\nhopes; and this was comparing my present condition with what I had\ndeserved, and had therefore reason to expect from the hand of\nProvidence. I had lived a dreadful life, perfectly destitute of the\nknowledge and fear of God. I had been well instructed by my father and\nmother; neither had they been wanting to me, in their endeavours to\ninfuse an early religious awe of God into my mind, a sense of my duty,\nand what the nature and end of my being required of me. But, alas!\nfalling early into the seafaring life, which, of all lives, is the most\ndestitute of the fear of God, though his terrors are always before them;\nI say, falling early into the seafaring life, and into seafaring\ncompany, all that little sense of religion which I had entertained was\nlaughed out of me by my messmates; by a hardened despising of dangers,\nand the views of death, which grew habitual to me; by my long absence\nfrom all manner of opportunities to converse with any thing but what was\nlike myself, or to hear any thing that was good, or tending towards it.\nSo void was I of every thing that was good, or of the least sense of\nwhat I was, or was to be, that in the greatest deliverances I enjoyed\n(such as my escape from Sallee, my being taken up by the Portuguese\nmaster of a ship, my being planted so well in the Brazils, my receiving\nthe cargo from England, and the like,) I never had once the words, Thank\nGod, so much as on my mind, or in my mouth; nor in the greatest distress\nhad I so much as a thought to pray to him, or so much as to say, Lord,\nhave mercy upon me! no, nor to mention the name of God, unless it was to\nswear by, and blaspheme it.\nI had terrible reflections upon my mind for many months, as I have\nalready observed, on account of my wicked and hardened life past; and\nwhen I looked about me, and considered what particular providences had\nattended me since my coming into this place, and how God had dealt\nbountifully with me,--had not only punished me less than my iniquity had\ndeserved, but had so plentifully provided for me,--this gave me great\nhopes that my repentance was accepted, and that God had yet mercies in\nstore for me.\nWith these reflections, I worked my mind up, not only to a resignation\nto the will of God in the present disposition of my circumstances, but\neven to a sincere thankfulness for my condition; and that I, who was yet\na living man, ought not to complain, seeing I had not the due punishment\nof my sins; that I enjoyed so many mercies which I had no reason to have\nexpected in that place, that I ought never more to repine at my\ncondition, but to rejoice, and to give daily thanks for that daily\nbread, which nothing but a crowd of wonders could have brought; that I\nought to consider I had been fed by a miracle, even as great as that of\nfeeding Elijah by ravens; nay, by a long series of miracles: and that I\ncould hardly have named a place in the uninhabitable part of the world\nwhere I could have been cast more to my advantage; a place where, as I\nhad no society, which was my affliction on one hand, so I found no\nravenous beasts, no furious wolves or tigers, to threaten my life; no\nvenomous or poisonous creatures which I might feed on to my hurt; no\nsavages to murder and devour me. In a word, as my life was a life of\nsorrow one way, so it was a life of mercy another; and I wanted nothing\nto make it a life of comfort, but to make myself sensible of God's\ngoodness to me, and care over me in this condition; and after I did make\na just improvement of these things, I went away, and was no more sad.\nI had now been here so long, that many things which I brought on shore\nfor my help were either quite gone, or very much wasted, and near spent.\nMy ink, as I observed, had been gone for some time, all but a very\nlittle, which I eked out with water, a little and a little, till it was\nso pale, it scarce left any appearance of black upon the paper. As long\nas it lasted, I made use of it to minute down the days of the month on\nwhich any remarkable thing happened to me: and, first, by casting up\ntimes past, I remember that there was a strange concurrence of days in\nthe various providences which befel me, and which, if I had been\nsuperstitiously inclined to observe days as fatal or fortunate, I might\nhave had reason to have looked upon with a great deal of curiosity.\nFirst, I had observed, that the same day that I broke away from my\nfather and my friends, and ran away to Hull, in order to go to sea, the\nsame day afterwards I was taken by the Sallee man of war, and made a\nslave: the same day of the year that I escaped out of the wreck of the\nship in Yarmouth Roads, that same day-year afterwards I made my escape\nfrom Sallee in the boat: and the same day of the year I was born on,\nviz. the 30th of September, that same day I had my life so miraculously\nsaved twenty-six years after, when I was cast on shore in this island:\nso that my wicked life and my solitary life began both on one day.\nThe next thing to my ink being wasted, was that of my bread, I mean the\nbiscuit which I brought out of the ship; this I had husbanded to the\nlast degree, allowing myself but one cake of bread a day for above a\nyear; and yet I was quite without bread for near a year before I got any\ncorn of my own; and great reason I had to be thankful that I had any at\nall, the getting it being, as has been already observed, next to\nmiraculous.\nMy clothes, too, began to decay mightily: as to linen, I had none for a\ngreat while, except some chequered shirts which I found in the chests of\nthe other seamen, and which I carefully preserved, because many times I\ncould bear no clothes on but a shirt; and it was a very great help to me\nthat I had, among all the men's clothes of the ship, almost three dozen\nof shirts. There were also, indeed, several thick watch-coats of the\nseamen's which were left, but they were too hot to wear: and though it\nis true that the weather was so violently hot that there was no need of\nclothes, yet I could not go quite naked, no, though I had been inclined\nto it, which I was not, nor could I abide the thought of it, though, I\nwas all alone. The reason why I could not go quite naked was, I could\nnot bear the heat of the sun so well when quite naked as with some\nclothes on; nay, the very heat frequently blistered my skin: whereas,\nwith a shirt on, the air itself made some motion, and whistling under\nthe shirt, was twofold cooler than without it. No more could I ever\nbring myself to go out in the heat of the sun without a cap or hat; the\nheat of the sun beating with such violence as it does in that place,\nwould give me the head-ach presently, by darting so directly upon my\nhead, without a cap or hat on, so that I could not bear it; whereas, if\nI put on my hat, it would presently go away.\nUpon these views, I began to consider about putting the few rags I had,\nwhich I called clothes, into some order: I had worn out all the\nwaistcoats I had, and my business was now to try if I could not make\njackets out of the great watch-coats that I had by me, and with such\nother materials as I had; so I set to work a tailoring, or rather,\nindeed; a botching, for I made most piteous work of it. However, I made\nshift to make two or three new waistcoats, which I hoped would serve me\na great while: as for breeches or drawers, I made but a very sorry shift\nindeed till afterwards.\nI have mentioned, that I saved the skins of all the creatures that I\nkilled, I mean four-footed ones; and I had hung them up, stretched out\nwith sticks, in the sun, by which means some of them were so dry and\nhard that they were fit for little, but others I found very useful. The\nfirst thing I made of these was a great cap for my head, with the hair\non the outside, to shoot off the rain; and this I performed so well,\nthat after this I made me a suit of clothes wholly of the skins, that is\nto say, a waistcoat, and breeches open at the knees, and both loose; for\nthey were rather wanting to keep me cool than warm. I must not omit to\nacknowledge that they were wretchedly made; for if I was a bad\ncarpenter, I was a worse tailor. However, they were such as I made very\ngood shift with; and when I was abroad, if it happened to rain, the hair\nof my waistcoat and cap being uppermost, I was kept very dry.\nAfter this I spent a great deal of time and pains to make me an\numbrella: I was indeed in great want of one, and had a great mind to\nmake one; I had seen them made in the Brazils, where they were very\nuseful in the great heats which are there; and I felt the heats every\njot as great here, and greater too, being nearer the equinox: besides,\nas I was obliged to be much abroad, it was a most useful thing to me, as\nwell for the rains as the heats. I took a world of pains at it, and was\na great while before I could make any thing likely to hold; nay, after I\nthought I had hit the way, I spoiled two or three before I made one to\nmy mind; but at last I made one that answered indifferently well; the\nmain difficulty I found was to make it to let down: I could make it\nspread, but if it did not let down too, and draw in, it was not portable\nfor me any way but just over my head, which would not do. However, at\nlast, as I said, I made one to answer, and covered it with skins, the\nhair upwards, so that it cast off the rain like a pent-house, and kept\noff the sun so effectually, that I could walk out in the hottest of the\nweather with greater advantage than I could before in the coolest; and\nwhen I had no need of it, could close it, and carry it under my arm.\nThus I lived mighty comfortably, my mind being entirely composed by\nresigning to the will of God, and throwing myself wholly upon the\ndisposal of his providence. This made my life better than sociable; for\nwhen I began to regret the want of conversation, I would ask myself,\nwhether thus conversing mutually with my own thoughts, and, as I hope I\nmay say, with even God himself, by ejaculations, was not better than the\nutmost enjoyment of human society in the world?\nI cannot say that after this, for five years, any extraordinary thing\nhappened to me, but I lived on in the same course, in the same posture\nand place, just as before; the chief things I was employed in, besides\nmy yearly labour of planting my barley and rice, and curing my raisins,\nof both which I always kept up just enough to have sufficient stock of\none year's provision beforehand; I say, besides this yearly labour, and\nmy daily pursuit of going out with my gun, I had one labour, to make me\na canoe, which at last I finished: so that by digging a canal to it of\nsix feet wide, and four feet deep, I brought it into the creek, almost\nhalf a mile. As for the first, which was so vastly big, as I made it\nwithout considering beforehand, as I ought to do, how I should be able\nto launch it, so, never being able to bring it into the water, or bring\nthe water to it, I was obliged to let it lie where it was, as a\nmemorandum to teach me to be wiser the next time: indeed, the next time,\nthough I could not get a tree proper for it, and was in a place where I\ncould not get the water to it at any less distance than, as I have said,\nnear half a mile, yet as I saw it was practicable at last, I never gave\nit over: and though I was near two years about it, yet I never grudged\nmy labour, in hopes of having a boat to go off to sea at last.\nHowever, though my little periagua was finished, yet the size of it was\nnot at all answerable to the design which I had in view when I made the\nfirst; I mean, of venturing over to the _terra firma_, where it was\nabove forty miles broad; accordingly, the smallness of my boat assisted\nto put an end to that design, and now I thought no more of it. As I had\na boat, my next design was to make a cruise round the island; for as I\nhad been on the other side in one place, crossing, as I have already\ndescribed it, over the land, so the discoveries I made in that little\njourney made me very eager to see other parts of the coast; and now I\nhad a boat, I thought of nothing but sailing round the island.\nFor this purpose, that I might do every thing with discretion and\nconsideration, I fitted up a little mast in my boat, and made a sail to\nit out of some of the pieces of the ship's sails which lay in store, and\nof which I had a great stock by me. Having fitted my mast and sail, and\ntried the boat, I found she would sail very well: then I made little\nlockers, or boxes, at each end of my boat, to put provisions,\nnecessaries, ammunition, &c. into, to be kept dry, either from rain or\nthe spray of the sea; and a little long hollow place I cut in the inside\nof the boat, where I could lay my gun, making a flap to hang down over\nit, to keep it dry.\nI fixed my umbrella also in a step at the stern, like a mast, to stand\nover my head, and keep the heat of the sun off me, like an awning; and\nthus I every now and then took a little voyage upon the sea, but never\nwent far out, nor far from the little creek. At last, being eager to\nview the circumference of my little kingdom, I resolved upon my cruise;\nand accordingly I victualled my ship for the voyage, putting in two\ndozen of loaves (cakes I should rather call them) of barley bread, an\nearthen pot full of parched rice (a food I ate a great deal of,) a\nlittle bottle of rum, half a goat, and powder and shot for killing more,\nand two large watch-coats, of those which, as I mentioned before, I had\nsaved out of the seamen's chests; these I took, one to lie upon, and the\nother to cover me in the night.\nIt was the 6th of November, in the sixth year of my reign, or my\ncaptivity, which you please, that I set out on this voyage, and I found\nit much longer than I expected; for though the island itself was not\nvery large, yet when I came to the east side of it, I found a great\nledge of rocks lie out about two leagues into the sea, some above water,\nsome under it; and beyond that a shoal of sand, lying dry half a league\nmore, so that I was obliged to go a great way out to sea to double\nthe point.\nWhen first I discovered them, I was going to give over my enterprise,\nand come back again, not knowing how far it might oblige me to go out to\nsea, and, above all, doubting how I should get back again; so I came to\nan anchor; for I had made me a kind of an anchor with a piece of a\nbroken grappling which I got out of the ship.\nHaving secured my boat, I took my gun and went on shore, climbing up on\na hill, which seemed to overlook that point, where I saw the full extent\nof it, and resolved to venture.\nIn my viewing the sea from that hill where I stood, I perceived a\nstrong, and indeed a most furious current, which ran to the east, and\neven came close to the point; and I took the more notice of it, because\nI saw there might be some danger, that when I came into it, I might be\ncarried out to sea by the strength of it, and not be able to make the\nisland again: and, indeed, had I not got first upon this hill, I believe\nit would have been so; for there was the same current on the other side\nthe island, only that it set off at a farther distance, and I saw there\nwas a strong eddy under the shore; so I had nothing to do but to get out\nof the first current, and I should presently be in an eddy.\nI lay here, however, two days, because the wind blowing pretty fresh at\nE.S.E. and that being just contrary to the said current, made a great\nbreach of the sea upon the point; so that it was not safe for me to keep\ntoo close to the shore for the breach, nor to go too far off because of\nthe stream.\nThe third day, in the morning, the wind having abated over-night, the\nsea was calm, and I ventured: but I am a warning piece again to all\nrash and ignorant pilots; for no sooner was I come to the point, when I\nwas not even my boat's length from the shore, but I found myself in a\ngreat depth of water, and a current like the sluice of a mill; it\ncarried my boat along with it with such violence, that all I could do\ncould not keep her so much as on the edge of it; but I found it hurried\nme farther and farther out from the eddy, which was on my left hand.\nThere was no wind stirring to help me, and all I could do with my\npaddles signified nothing: and now I began to give myself over for lost;\nfor as the current was on both sides of the island, I knew in a few\nleagues distance they must join again, and then I was irrecoverably\ngone; nor did I see any possibility of avoiding it; so that I had no\nprospect before me but of perishing, not by the sea, for that was calm\nenough, but of starving for hunger. I had indeed found a tortoise on the\nshore, as big almost as I could lift, and had tossed it into the boat;\nand I had a great jar of fresh water, that is to say, one of my earthen\npots; but what was all this to being driven into the vast ocean, where,\nto be sure, there was no shore, no main land or island, for a thousand\nleagues at least?\nAnd now I saw how easy it was for the providence of God to make even the\nmost miserable condition of mankind worse. Now I looked back upon my\ndesolate solitary island, as the most pleasant place in the world; and\nall the happiness my heart could wish for was to be but there again. I\nstretched out my hands to it, with eager wishes: \"O happy desert!\" said\nI, \"I shall never see thee more. O miserable creature! whither am I\ngoing!\" Then I reproached myself with my unthankful temper, and how I\nhad repined at my solitary condition; and now what would I give to be on\nshore there again! Thus we never see the true state of our condition\ntill it is illustrated to us by its contraries, nor know how to value\nwhat we enjoy, but by the want of it. It is scarce possible to imagine\nthe consternation I was now in, being driven from my beloved island (for\nso it appeared to me now to be) into the wide ocean, almost two leagues,\nand in the utmost despair of ever recovering it again. However, I worked\nhard, till indeed my strength was almost exhausted, and kept my boat as\nmuch to the northward, that is, towards the side of the current which\nthe eddy lay on, as possibly I could; when about noon, as the sun passed\nthe meridian, I thought I felt a little breeze of wind in my face,\nspringing up from S.S.E. This cheered my heart a little, and especially\nwhen, in about half an hour more, it blew a pretty gentle gale. By this\ntime I was got at a frightful distance from the island, and had the\nleast cloudy or hazy weather intervened, I had been undone another way\ntoo; for I had no compass on board, and should never have known how to\nhave steered towards the island, if I had but once lost sight of it; but\nthe weather continuing clear, I applied myself to get up my mast again,\nand spread my sail, standing away to the north as much as possible, to\nget out of the current.\nJust as I had set my mast and sail, and the boat began to stretch away,\nI saw even by the clearness of the water some alteration of the current\nwas near; for where the current was so strong, the water was foul; but\nperceiving the water clear, I found the current abate; and presently I\nfound to the east, at about half a mile, a breach of the sea upon some\nrocks: these rocks I found caused the current to part again, and as the\nmain stress of it ran away more southerly, leaving the rocks to the\nnorth-east, so the other returned by the repulse of the rocks, and made\na strong eddy, which ran back again to the north-west, with a very\nsharp stream.\nThey who know what it is to have a reprieve brought to them upon the\nladder, or to be rescued from thieves just going to murder them, or who\nhave been in such-like extremities, may guess what my present surprise\nof joy was, and how gladly I put my boat into the stream of this eddy;\nand the wind also freshening, how gladly I spread my sail to it, running\ncheerfully before the wind, and with a strong tide or eddy under foot.\nThis eddy carried me about a league in my way back again, directly\ntowards the island, but about two leagues more to the northward than the\ncurrent which carried me away at first: so that when I came near the\nisland, I found myself open to the northern shore of it, that is to say,\nthe other end of the island, opposite to that which I went out from.\nWhen I had made something more than a league of way by the help of this\ncurrent or eddy, I found it was spent, and served me no farther.\nHowever, I found that being between two great currents, viz. that on the\nsouth side, which had hurried me away, and that on the north, which lay\nabout a league on the other side; I say, between these two, in the wake\nof the island, I found the water at least still, and running no way; and\nhaving still a breeze of wind fair for me, I kept on steering directly\nfor the island, though not making such fresh way as I did before.\nAbout four o'clock in the evening, being then within a league of the\nisland, I found the point of the rocks which occasioned this disaster,\nstretching out, as is described before, to the southward, and casting\noff the current more southerly, had, of course, made another eddy to the\nnorth, and this I found very strong, but not directly setting the way my\ncourse lay, which was due west, but almost full north. However, having a\nfresh gale, I stretched across this eddy, slanting north-west: and, in\nabout an hour, came within about a mile of the shore, where, it being\nsmooth water, I soon got to land.\nWhen I was on shore, I fell on my knees, and gave God thanks for my\ndeliverance, resolving to lay aside all thoughts of my deliverance by my\nboat; and refreshing myself with such things as I had, I brought my boat\nclose to the shore, in a little cove that I had spied under some trees,\nand laid me down to sleep, being quite spent with the labour and fatigue\nof the voyage.\nI was now at a great loss which way to get home with my boat: I had run\nso much hazard, and knew too much of the case, to think of attempting it\nby the way I went out; and what might be at the other side (I mean the\nwest side) I knew not, nor had I any mind to run any more ventures; so I\nonly resolved in the morning to make my way westward along the shore,\nand to see if there was no creek where I might lay up my frigate in\nsafety, so as to have her again, if I wanted her. In about three miles,\nor thereabouts, coasting the shore, I came to a very good inlet or bay,\nabout a mile over, which narrowed till it came to a very little rivulet\nor brook, where I found a very convenient harbour for my boat, and where\nshe lay as if she had been in a little dock made on purpose for her.\nHere I put in, and having stowed my boat very safe, I went on shore, to\nlook about me, and see where I was.\nI soon found I had but a little passed by the place where I had been\nbefore, when I travelled on foot to that shore; so taking nothing out of\nmy boat but my gun and umbrella, for it was exceeding hot, I began my\nmarch. The way was comfortable enough after such a voyage as I had been\nupon, and I reached my old bower in the evening, where I found every\nthing standing as I left it; for I always kept it in good order, being,\nas I said before, my country house.\nI got over the fence, and laid me down in the shade, to rest my limbs,\nfor I was very weary, and fell asleep: but judge you, if you can, that\nread my story, what a surprise I must be in, when I was awaked out of my\nsleep by a voice, calling me by my name several times, \"Robin, Robin,\nRobin Crusoe; poor Robin Crusoe! Where are you, Robin Crusoe? Where are\nyou? Where have you been!\"\nI was so dead asleep at first, being fatigued with rowing, or paddling,\nas it is called, the first part of the day, and with walking the latter\npart, that I did not wake thoroughly; but dozing between sleeping and\nwaking, thought I dreamed that somebody spoke to me; but as the voice\ncontinued to repeat Robin Crusoe, Robin Crusoe, at last I began to wake\nmore perfectly, and was at first dreadfully frightened, and started up\nin the utmost consternation; but no sooner were my eyes open, but I saw\nmy Pol sitting on the top of the hedge; and immediately knew it was he\nthat spoke to me; for just in such bemoaning language I had used to talk\nto him, and teach him; and he had learned it so perfectly, that he would\nsit upon my finger, and lay his bill close to my face, and cry, \"Poor\nRobin Crusoe! Where are you? Where have you been? How came you here?\"\nand such things as I had taught him.\nHowever, even though I knew it was the parrot, and that indeed it could\nbe nobody else, it was a good while before I could compose myself.\nFirst, I was amazed how the creature got thither, and then, how he\nshould just keep about the place, and no where else: but as I was well\nsatisfied it could be nobody but honest Pol, I got over it; and holding\nout my hand, and calling him by his name, Pol, the sociable creature\ncame to me, and sat upon my thumb, as he used to do and continued\ntalking to me, Poor Robin Crusoe! and how did I come here? and where had\nI been? just as if he had been overjoyed to see me again: and so I\ncarried him home along with me.\nI now had enough of rambling to sea for some time, and had enough to do\nfor many days, to sit still, and reflect upon the danger I had been in.\nI would have been very glad to have had my boat again on my side of the\nisland; but I knew not how it was practicable to get it about. As to the\neast side of the island, which I had gone round, I knew well enough\nthere was no venturing that way; my very heart would shrink, and my very\nblood run chill, but to think of it; and as to the other side of the\nisland, I did not know how it might be there; but supposing the current\nran with the same force against the shore at the east as it passed by it\non the other, I might run the same risk of being driven down the stream,\nand carried by the island, as I had been before of being carried away\nfrom it; so, with these thoughts, I contented myself to be without any\nboat, though it had been the product of so many months' labour to make\nit, and of so many more to get it into the sea.\nIn this government of my temper I remained near a year, lived a very\nsedate, retired life, as you may well suppose; and my thoughts being\nvery much composed, as to my condition, and fully comforted in resigning\nmyself to the dispositions of Providence, I thought I lived really very\nhappily in all things, except that of society.\nI improved myself in this time in all the mechanic exercises which my\nnecessities put me upon applying myself to; and I believe I could, upon\noccasion, have made a very good carpenter, especially considering how\nfew tools I had.\nBesides this, I arrived at an unexpected perfection in my earthen-ware,\nand contrived well enough to make them with a wheel, which I found\ninfinitely easier and better; because I made things round and shapable,\nwhich before were filthy things indeed to look on. But I think I was\nnever more vain of my own performance, or more joyful for any thing I\nfound out, than for my being able to make a tobacco-pipe; and though it\nwas a very ugly clumsy thing when it was done, and only burnt red, like\nother earthen-ware, yet as it was hard and firm, and would draw the\nsmoke, I was exceedingly comforted with it, for I had been always used\nto smoke: and there were pipes in the ship, but I forgot them at first,\nnot thinking that there was tobacco in the island; and afterwards, when\nI searched the ship again, I could not come at any pipes at all.\nIn my wicker-ware also I improved much, and made abundance of necessary\nbaskets, as well as my invention showed me; though not very handsome,\nyet they were such as were very handy and convenient for my laying\nthings up in, or fetching things home. For example, if I killed a goat\nabroad, I could hang it up in a tree, flay it, dress it, and cut it in\npieces, and bring it home in a basket; and the like by a turtle: I could\ncut it up, take out the eggs, and a piece or two of the flesh, which was\nenough for me, and bring them home in a basket, and leave the rest\nbehind me. Also large deep baskets were the receivers of my corn, which\nI always rubbed out as soon as it was dry, and cured, and kept it in\ngreat baskets.\nI began now to perceive my powder abated considerably; this was a want\nwhich it was impossible for me to supply, and I began seriously to\nconsider what I must do when I should have no more powder; that is to\nsay, how I should do to kill any goats. I had, as is observed, in the\nthird year of my being here, kept a young kid, and bred her up tame, and\nI was in hopes of getting a he-goat: but I could not by any means bring\nit to pass, till my kid grew an old goat; and as I could never find in\nmy heart to kill her, she died at last of mere age.\nBut being now in the eleventh year of my residence, and, as I have said,\nmy ammunition growing low, I set myself to study some art to trap and\nsnare the goats, to see whether I could not catch some of them alive;\nand particularly, I wanted a she-goat great with young. For this\npurpose, I made snares to hamper them; and I do believe they were more\nthan once taken in them; but my tackle was not good, for I had no wire,\nand I always found them broken, and my bait devoured. At length I\nresolved to try a pitfall: so I dug several large pits in the earth, in\nplaces where I had observed the goats used to feed, and over those pits\nI placed hurdles, of my own making too, with a great weight upon them;\nand several times I put ears of barley and dry rice, without setting the\ntrap; and I could easily perceive that the goats had gone in and eaten\nup the corn, for I could see the marks of their feet. At length I set\nthree traps in one night, and going the next morning, I found them all\nstanding, and yet the bait eaten and gone; this was very discouraging.\nHowever, I altered my traps; and, not to trouble you with particulars,\ngoing one morning to see my traps, I found in one of them a large old\nhe-goat, and in one of the others three kids, a male and two females.\nAs to the old one, I knew not what to do with him; he was so fierce, I\ndurst not go into the pit to him; that is to say, to go about to bring\nhim away alive, which was what I wanted: I could have killed him, but\nthat was not my business, nor would it answer my end; so I even let him\nout, and he ran away, as if he had been frightened out of his wits. But\nI did not then know what I afterwards learnt, that hunger will tame a\nlion. If I had let him stay there three or four days without food, and\nthen have carried him some water to drink, and then a little corn, he\nwould have been as tame as one of the kids; for they are mighty\nsagacious, tractable creatures, where they are well used.\nHowever, for the present I let him go, knowing no better at that time:\nthen I went to the three kids, and taking them one by one, I tied them\nwith strings together, and with some difficulty brought them all home.\nIt was a good while before they would feed; but throwing them some sweet\ncorn, it tempted them, and they began to be tame. And now I found that\nif I expected to supply myself with goat's flesh when I had no powder or\nshot left, breeding some up tame was my only way; when, perhaps, I might\nhave them about my house like a flock of sheep. But then it occurred to\nme, that I must keep the tame from the wild, or else they would always\nrun wild when they grew up: and the only way for this was, to have some\nenclosed piece of ground, well fenced, either with hedge or pale, to\nkeep them in so effectually, that those within might not break out, or\nthose without break in.\nThis was a great undertaking for one pair of hands; yet as I saw there\nwas an absolute necessity for doing it, my first work was to find out a\nproper piece of ground, where there was likely to be herbage for them\nto eat, water for them to drink, and cover to keep them from the sun.\nThose who understand such enclosures will think I had very little\ncontrivance, when I pitched upon a place very proper for all these\n(being a plain open piece of meadow land, or savannah, as our people\ncall it in the western colonies,) which had two or three little drills\nof fresh water in it, and at one end was very woody; I say, they will\nsmile at my forecast, when I shall tell them, I began my enclosing this\npiece of ground in such a manner, that my hedge or pale must have been\nat least two miles about. Nor was the madness of it so great as to the\ncompass, for if it was ten miles about, I was like to have time enough\nto do it in; but I did not consider that my goats would be as wild in so\nmuch compass as if they had had the whole island, and I should have so\nmuch room to chase them in, that I should never catch them.\nMy hedge was begun and carried on, I believe about fifty yards, when\nthis thought occurred to me; so I presently stopped short, and, for the\nfirst beginning, I resolved to enclose a piece of about 150 yards in\nlength, and 100 yards in breadth; which, as it would maintain as many as\nI should have in any reasonable time, so, as my stock increased, I could\nadd more ground to my enclosure.\nThis was acting with some prudence, and I went to work with courage. I\nwas about three months hedging in the first piece; and, till I had done\nit, I tethered the three kids in the best part of it, and used them to\nfeed as near me as possible, to make them familiar; and very often I\nwould go and carry them some ears of barley, or a handful of rice, and\nfeed them out of my hand: so that after my enclosure was finished, and I\nlet them loose, they would follow me up and down, bleating after me for\na handful of corn.\nThis answered my end; and in about a year and a half I had a flock of\nabout twelve goats, kids and all; and in two years more, I had three and\nforty, besides several that I took and killed for my food. After that I\nenclosed five several pieces of ground to feed them in, with little pens\nto drive them into, to take them as I wanted, and gates out of one piece\nof ground into another.\nBut this was not all; for now I not only had goat's flesh to feed on\nwhen I pleased, but milk too; a thing which, indeed, in the beginning, I\ndid not so much as think of, and which, when it came into my thoughts,\nwas really an agreeable surprise: for now I set up my dairy, and had\nsometimes a gallon or two of milk in a day. And as nature, who gives\nsupplies of food to every creature, dictates even naturally how to make\nuse of it, so I, that had never milked a cow, much less a goat, or seen\nbutter or cheese made, only when I was a boy, after a great many essays\nand miscarriages, made me both butter and cheese at last, and also salt\n(though I found it partly made to my hand by the heat of the sun upon\nsome of the rocks of the sea,) and never wanted it afterwards. How\nmercifully can our Creator treat his creatures, even in those conditions\nin which they seemed to be overwhelmed in destruction! How can he\nsweeten the bitterest providences, and give us cause to praise him for\ndungeons and prisons! What a table was here spread for me in a\nwilderness, where I saw nothing, at first, but to perish for hunger!\nIt would have made a stoic smile, to have seen me and my little family\nsit down to dinner: there was my majesty, the prince and lord of the\nwhole island; I had the lives of all my subjects at my absolute command;\nI could hang, draw, give liberty, and take it away; and no rebels among\nall my subjects. Then to see how like a king I dined too, all alone,\nattended by my servants! Pol, as if he had been my favourite, was the\nonly person permitted to talk to me. My dog, who was now grown very old\nand crazy, and had found no species to multiply his kind upon, sat\nalways at my right hand; and two cats, one on one side of the table, and\none on the other, expecting now and then a bit from my hand, as a mark\nof special favour.\nBut these were not the two cats which I brought on shore at first, for\nthey were both of them dead, and had been interred near my habitation by\nmy own hand; but one of them having multiplied by I know not what kind\nof creature, these were two which I had preserved tame; whereas the rest\nrun wild in the woods, and became indeed troublesome to me at last; for\nthey would often come into my house, and plunder me too, till at last I\nwas obliged to shoot them, and did kill a great many; at length they\nleft me.--With this attendance, and in this plentiful manner, I lived;\nneither could I be said to want any thing but society: and of that, some\ntime after this, I was like to have too much.\nI was something impatient, as I have observed, to have the use of my\nboat, though very loth to run any more hazards; and therefore sometimes\nI sat contriving ways to get her about the island, and at other times I\nsat myself down contented enough without her. But I had a strange\nuneasiness in my mind to go down to the point of the island, where, as I\nhave said, in my last ramble, I went up the hill to see how the shore\nlay, and how the current set, that I might see what I had to do: this\ninclination increased upon me every day, and at length I resolved to\ntravel thither by land, following the edge of the shore. I did so; but\nhad any one in England been to meet such a man as I was, it must either\nhave frightened him, or raised a great deal of laughter: and as I\nfrequently stood still to look at myself, I could not but smile at the\nnotion of my travelling through Yorkshire, with such an equipage, and in\nsuch a dress. Be pleased to take a sketch of my figure, as follows:\nI had a great high shapeless cap, made of a goat's skin, with a flap\nhanging down behind, as well to keep the sun from me as to shoot the\nrain off from running into my neck: nothing being so hurtful in these\nclimates as the rain upon the flesh, under the clothes.\nI had a short jacket of goat's skin, the skirts coming down to about the\nmiddle of the thighs, and a pair of open-kneed breeches of the same; the\nbreeches were made of the skin of an old he-goat, whose hair hung down\nsuch a length on either side, that, like pantaloons, it reached to the\nmiddle of my legs; stockings and shoes I had none, but had made me a\npair of somethings, I scarce know what to call them, like buskins, to\nflap over my legs, and lace on either side like spatterdashes: but of a\nmost barbarous shape, as inded were all the rest of my clothes.\nI had on a broad belt of goat's skin dried, which I drew together with\ntwo thongs of the same, instead of buckles; and in a kind of a frog on\neither side of this, instead of a sword and dagger, hung a little saw\nand a hatchet; one on one side, and one on the other. I had another\nbelt, not so broad, and fastened in the same manner, which hung over my\nshoulder; and at the end of it, under my left arm, hung two pouches,\nboth made of goat's skin too; in one of which hung my powder, in the\nother my shot. At my back I carried my basket, and on my shoulder my\ngun; and over my head a great clumsy ugly goat's skin umbrella, but\nwhich, after all, was the most necessary thing I had about me, next to\nmy gun. As for my face, the colour of it was really not so mulatto-like\nas one might expect from a man not at all careful of it, and living\nwithin nine or ten degrees of the equinox. My beard I had once suffered\nto grow till it was about a quarter of a yard long; but as I had both\nscissars and razors sufficient, I had cut it pretty short, except what\ngrew on my upper lip, which I had trimmed into a large pair of Mahometan\nwhiskers, such as I had seen worn by some Turks at Sallee; for the Moors\ndid not wear such, though the Turks did: of these mustachios or\nwhiskers, I will not say they were long enough to hang my hat upon them,\nbut they were of a length and shape monstrous enough, and such as, in\nEngland, would have passed for frightful.\nBut all this is by the bye; for, as to my figure, I had so few to\nobserve me that it was of no manner of consequence; so I say no more to\nthat part. In this kind of figure I went my new journey, and was out\nfive or six days. I travelled first along the sea-shore, directly to the\nplace where I first brought my boat to an anchor, to get upon the rocks;\nand having no boat now to take care of, I went over the land, a nearer\nway, to the same height that I was upon before; when looking forward to\nthe point of the rocks which lay out, and which I was obliged to double\nwith my boat, as is said above, I was surprised to see the sea all\nsmooth and quiet; no rippling, no motion, no current, any more there\nthan in any other places. I was at a strange loss to understand this,\nand resolved to spend some time in the observing it, to see if nothing\nfrom the sets of the tide had occasioned it; but I was presently\nconvinced how it was, viz. that the tide of ebb setting from the west,\nand joining with the current of waters, from some great river on the\nshore, must be the occasion of this current; and that according as the\nwind blew more forcibly from the west, or from the north, this current\ncame nearer, or went farther from the shore; for waiting thereabouts\ntill evening, I went up to the rock again, and then the tide of ebb\nbeing made, I plainly saw the current again as before, only that it ran\nfarther off, being near half a league from the shore; whereas in my\ncase, it set close upon the shore, and hurried me and my canoe along\nwith it; which, at another time, it would not have done.\nThis observation convinced me, that I had nothing to do but to observe\nthe ebbing and the flowing of the tide, and I might very easily bring my\nboat about the island again: but when I began to think of putting it in\npractice, I had such a terror upon my spirits at the remembrance of the\ndanger I had been in, that I could not think of it again with any\npatience; but, on the contrary, I took up another resolution, which was\nmore safe, though more laborious; and this was, that I would build, or\nrather make me another periagua or canoe; and so have one for one side\nof the island, and one for the other.\nYou are to understand, that now I had, as I may call it, two plantations\nin the island; one, my little fortification or tent, with the wall about\nit, under the rock, with the cave behind me, which, by this time, I had\nenlarged into several apartments or caves, one within another. One of\nthese, which was the driest and largest, and had a door out beyond my\nwall or fortification, that is to say, beyond where my wall joined to\nthe rock, was all filled up with the large earthen pots, of which I have\ngiven an account, and with fourteen or fifteen great baskets, which\nwould hold five or six bushels each, where I laid up my stores of\nprovision, especially my corn, some in the ear, cut off short from the\nstraw, and the other rubbed out with my hand.\nAs for my wall, made, as before, with long stakes or piles, those piles\ngrew all like trees, and were by this time grown so big, and spread so\nvery much, that there was not the least appearance, to any one's view,\nof any habitation behind them.\nNear this dwelling of mine, but a little farther within the land, and\nupon lower ground, lay my two pieces of corn land, which I kept duly\ncultivated and sowed, and which duly yielded me their harvest in its\nseason: and whenever I had occasion for more corn, I had more land\nadjoining as fit as that.\nBesides this, I had my country seat; and I had now a tolerable\nplantation there also: for, first, I had my little bower, as I called\nit, which I kept in repair; that is to say, I kept the hedge which\nencircled it in constantly fitted up to its usual height, the ladder\nstanding always in the inside: I kept the trees, which at first were no\nmore than my stakes, but were now grown very firm and tall, always cut\nso, that they might spread and grow thick and wild, and make the more\nagreeable shade; which they did effectually to my mind. In the middle of\nthis I had my tent always standing, being a piece of a sail spread over\npoles, set up for that purpose, and which never wanted any repair or\nrenewing; and under this I had made me a squab or couch, with the skins\nof the creatures I had killed, and with other soft things; and a blanket\nlaid on them, such as belonged to our sea-bedding, which I had saved,\nand a great watch-coat to cover me; and here, whenever I had occasion to\nbe absent from my chief seat, I took up my country habitation.\nAdjoining to this I had my enclosures for my cattle, that is to say, my\ngoats; and as I had taken an inconceivable deal of pains to fence and\nenclose this ground, I was so anxious to see it kept entire, lest the\ngoats should break through, that I never left off, till, with infinite\nlabour, I had stuck the outside of the hedge so full of small stakes,\nand so near to one another, that it was rather a pale than a hedge, and\nthere was scarce room to put a hand through between them; which\nafterwards, when those stakes grew, as they all did in the next rainy\nseason, made the enclosure strong like a wall,--indeed, stronger\nthan any wall.\nThis will testify for me that I was not idle, and that I spared no pains\nto bring to pass whatever appeared necessary for my comfortable support;\nfor I considered the keeping up a breed of tame creatures thus at my\nhand would be a living magazine of flesh, milk, butter, and cheese for\nme as long as I lived in the place, if it were to be forty years; and\nthat keeping them in my reach depended entirely upon my perfecting my\nenclosures to such a degree, that I might be sure of keeping them\ntogether; which, by this method, indeed, I so effectually secured, that\nwhen these little stakes began to grow, I had planted them so very\nthick, that I was forced to pull some of them up again.\nIn this place also I had my grapes growing, which I principally depended\non for my winter store of raisins, and which I never failed to preserve\nvery carefully, as the best and most agreeable dainty of my whole diet:\nand indeed they were not only agreeable, but medicinal, wholesome,\nnourishing, and refreshing to the last degree.\nAs this was also about half-way between my other habitation and the\nplace where I had laid up my boat, I generally stayed and lay here in my\nway thither; for I used frequently to visit my boat; and I kept all\nthings about, or belonging to her, in very good order: sometimes I went\nout in her to divert myself, but no more hazardous voyages would I go,\nnor scarce ever above a stone's cast or two from the shore, I was so\napprehensive of being hurried out of my knowledge again by the currents\nor winds, or any other accident. But now I come to a new scene of\nmy life.\nIt happened one day, about noon, going towards my boat, I was\nexceedingly surprised with the print of a man's naked foot on the shore,\nwhich was very plain to be seen in the sand. I stood like one\nthunder-struck, or as if I had seen an apparition; I listened, I looked\nround me, but I could hear nothing, nor see any thing; I went up to a\nrising ground, to look farther; I went up the shore, and down the shore,\nbut it was all one; I could see no other impression but that one. I went\nto it again to see if there were any more, and to observe if it might\nnot be my fancy; but there was no room for that, for there was exactly\nthe print of a foot, toes, heel, and every part of a foot: how it came\nthither I knew not, nor could I in the least imagine; but, after\ninnumerable fluttering thoughts, like a man perfectly confused and out\nof myself, I came home to my fortification, not feeling, as we say, the\nground I went on, but terrified to the last degree: looking behind me at\nevery two or three steps, mistaking every bush and tree, and fancying\nevery stump at a distance to be a man. Nor is it possible to describe\nhow many various shapes my affrighted imagination represented things to\nme in, how many wild ideas were found every moment in my fancy, and what\nstrange unaccountable whimsies came into my thoughts by the way.\nWhen I came to my castle (for so I think I called it ever after this,) I\nfled into it like one pursued; whether I went over by the ladder, as\nfirst contrived, or went in at the hole in the rock, which I had called\na door, I cannot remember; no, nor could I remember the next morning;\nfor never frightened hare fled to cover, or fox to earth, with more\nterror of mind than I to this retreat.\nI slept none that night; the farther I was from the occasion of my\nfright, the greater my apprehensions were; which is something contrary\nto the nature of such things, and especially to the usual practice of\nall creatures in fear; but I was so embarrassed with my own frightful\nideas of the thing, that I formed nothing but dismal imaginations to\nmyself, even though I was now a great way off it. Sometimes I fancied it\nmust be the Devil, and reason joined in with me upon this supposition;\nfor how should any other thing in human shape come into the place? Where\nwas the vessel that brought them? What marks were there of any other\nfootsteps? And how was it possible a man should come there? But then to\nthink that Satan should take human shape upon him in such a place, where\nthere could be no manner of occasion for it, but to leave the print of\nhis foot behind him, and that even for no purpose too, for he could not\nbe sure I should see it,--this was an amusement the other way. I\nconsidered that the Devil might have found out abundance of other ways\nto have terrified me than this of the single print of a foot; that as I\nlived quite on the other side of the island, he would never have been so\nsimple as to leave a mark in a place where it was ten thousand to one\nwhether I should ever see it or not, and in the sand too, which the\nfirst surge of the sea, upon a high wind, would have defaced entirely:\nall this seemed inconsistent with the thing itself, and with all the\nnotions we usually entertain of the subtilty of the Devil.\nAbundance of such things as these assisted to argue me out of all\napprehensions of its being the Devil; and I presently concluded then,\nthat it must be some more dangerous creature, viz. that it must be some\nof the savages of the main land over against me, who had wandered out to\nsea in their canoes, and either driven by the currents or by contrary\nwinds, had made the island, and had been on shore, but were gone away\nagain to sea; being as loth, perhaps, to have stayed in this desolate\nisland as I would have been to have had them.\nWhile these reflections were rolling upon my mind, I was very thankful\nin my thoughts that I was so happy as not to be thereabouts at that\ntime, or that they did not see my boat, by which they would have\nconcluded that some inhabitants had been in the place, and perhaps have\nsearched farther for me: then terrible thoughts racked my imagination\nabout their having found my boat, and that there were people here; and\nthat if so, I should certainly have them come again in greater numbers,\nand devour me; that if it should happen so that they should not find me,\nyet they would find my enclosure, destroy all my corn, and carry away\nall my flock of tame goats, and I should perish at last for mere want.\nThus my fear banished all my religious hope, all that former confidence\nin God, which was founded upon such wonderful experience as I had had of\nhis goodness, as if he that had fed me by miracle hitherto could not\npreserve, by his power, the provision which he had made for me by his\ngoodness. I reproached myself with my laziness, that would not sow any\nmore corn one year than would just serve me till the next season, as if\nno accident would intervene to prevent my enjoying the crop that was\nupon the ground; and this I thought so just a reproof, that I resolved\nfor the future to have two or three years' corn beforehand; so that\nwhatever might come, I might not perish for want of bread.\nHow strange a chequer-work of Providence is the life of man! and by what\nsecret different springs are the affections hurried about, as different\ncircumstances present! To-day we love what to-morrow we hate; to-day we\nseek what to-morrow we shun; to-day we desire what to-morrow we fear,\nnay, even tremble at the apprehensions of; this was exemplified in me,\nat this time, in the most lively manner imaginable; for I, whose only\naffliction was that I seemed banished from human society, that I was\nalone, circumscribed by the boundless ocean, cut off from mankind, and\ncondemned to what I called silent life; that I was as one whom Heaven\nthought not worthy to be numbered among the living, or to appear among\nthe rest of his creatures; that to have seen one of my own species would\nhave seemed to me a raising me from death to life, and the greatest\nblessing that Heaven itself, next to the supreme blessing of salvation,\ncould bestow; I say, that I should now tremble at the very apprehensions\nof seeing a man, and was ready to sink into the ground at but the shadow\nor silent appearance of a man's having set his foot in the island.\nSuch is the uneven state of human life; and it afforded me a great many\ncurious speculations afterwards, when I had a little recovered my first\nsurprise. I considered that this was the station of life the infinitely\nwise and good providence of God had determined for me; that as I could\nnot foresee what the ends of divine wisdom might be in all this, so I\nwas not to dispute his sovereignty, who, as I was his creature, had an\nundoubted right, by creation, to govern and dispose of me absolutely as\nhe thought fit; and who, as I was a creature that had offended him, had\nlikewise a judicial right to condemn me to what punishment he thought\nfit; and that it was my part to submit to bear his indignation, because\nI had sinned against him. I then reflected, that as God, who was not\nonly righteous, but omnipotent, had thought fit thus to punish and\nafflict me, so he was able to deliver me; that if he did not think fit\nto do so, it was my unquestioned duty to resign myself absolutely and\nentirely to his will; and, on the other hand, it was my duty also to\nhope in him, pray to him, and quietly to attend the dictates and\ndirections of his daily providence.\nThese thoughts took me up many hours, days, nay, I may say, weeks and\nmonths; and one particular effect of my cogitations on this occasion I\ncannot omit: One morning early, lying in my bed, and filled with\nthoughts about my danger from the appearances of savages, I found it\ndiscomposed me very much; upon which these words of the Scripture came\ninto my thoughts, \"Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will\ndeliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.\" Upon this, rising cheerfully\nout of my bed, my heart was not only comforted, but I was guided and\nencouraged to pray earnestly to God for deliverance: when I had done\npraying, I took up my Bible, and opening it to read, the first words\nthat presented to me were, \"Wait on the Lord, and be of good cheer, and\nhe shall strengthen thy heart; wait, I say, on the Lord.\" It is\nimpossible to express the comfort this gave me. In answer, I thankfully\nlaid down the book, and was no more sad, at least on that occasion.\nIn the middle of these cogitations, apprehensions, and reflections, it\ncame into my thoughts one day, that all this might be a mere chimera of\nmy own, and that this foot might be the print of my own foot, when I\ncame on shore from my boat: this cheered me up a little too, and I began\nto persuade myself it was all a delusion; that it was nothing else but\nmy own foot: and why might I not come that way from the boat, as well as\nI was going that way to the boat? Again, I considered also, that I could\nby no means tell, for certain, where I had trod, and where I had not;\nand that if, at last, this was only the print of my own foot, I had\nplayed the part of those fools who try to make stories of spectres and\napparitions, and then are frightened at them more than any body.\nNow I began to take courage, and to peep abroad again, for I had not\nstirred out of my castle for three days and nights, so that I began to\nstarve for provisions; for I had little or nothing within doors but some\nbarley-cakes and water: then I knew that my goats wanted to be milked\ntoo, which usually was my evening diversion; and the poor creatures were\nin great pain and inconvenience for want of it; and, indeed, it almost\nspoiled some of them, and almost dried up their milk. Encouraging\nmyself, therefore, with the belief that this was nothing but the print\nof one of my own feet, and that I might be truly said to start at my own\nshadow, I began to go abroad again, and went to my country-house to milk\nmy flock: but to see with what fear I went forward, how often I looked\nbehind me, how I was ready, every now and then, to lay down my basket,\nand run for my life, it would have made any one have thought I was\nhaunted with an evil conscience, or that I had been lately most terribly\nfrightened; and so, indeed, I had. However, as I went down thus two or\nthree days, and having seen nothing, I began to be a little bolder, and\nto think there was really nothing in it but my own imagination; but I\ncould not persuade myself fully of this till I should go down to the\nshore again, and see this print of a foot, and measure it by my own, and\nsee if there was any similitude or fitness, that I might be assured it\nwas my own foot: but when I came to the place, first, it appeared\nevidently to me, that when I laid up my boat, I could not possibly be on\nshore any where thereabouts: secondly, when I came to measure the mark\nwith my own foot, I found my foot not so large by a great deal. Both\nthese things filled my head with new imaginations, and gave me the\nvapours again to the highest degree, so that I shook with cold like one\nin an ague; and I went home again, filled with the belief that some man\nor men had been on shore there; or, in short, that the island was\ninhabited, and I might be surprised before I was aware; and what course\nto take for my security I knew not.\nO what ridiculous resolutions men take when possessed with fear! It\ndeprives them of the use of those means which reason offers for their\nrelief. The first thing I proposed to myself was, to throw down my\nenclosures, and turn all my tame cattle wild into the woods, lest the\nenemy should find them, and then frequent the island in prospect of the\nsame or the like booty: then to the simple thing of digging up my two\ncorn fields, lest they should find such a grain there, and still be\nprompted to frequent the island: then to demolish my bower and tent,\nthat they might not see any vestiges of habitation, and be prompted to\nlook farther, in order to find out the persons inhabiting.\nThese were the subject of the first night's cogitataions after I was\ncome home again, while the apprehensions which had so over-run my mind\nwere fresh upon me, and my head was full of vapours, as above. Thus fear\nof danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger itself, when\napparent to the eyes; and we find the burthen of anxiety greater, by\nmuch, than the evil which we are anxious about: and, which was worse\nthan all this, I had not that relief in this trouble from the\nresignation I used to practise, that I hoped to have. I looked, I\nthought, like Saul, who complained not, only that the Philistines were\nupon him, but that God had forsaken him; for I did not now take due ways\nto compose my mind, by crying to God in my distress, and resting upon\nhis providence, as I had done before, for my defence and deliverance;\nwhich, if I had done, I had at least been more cheerfully supported\nunder this new surprise, and perhaps carried through it with more\nresolution.\nThis confusion of my thoughts kept me awake all night; but in the\nmorning I fell asleep; and having, by the amusement of my mind, been, as\nit were, tired, and my spirits exhausted, I slept very soundly, and\nwaked much better composed than I had ever been before. And now I began\nto think sedately; and, upon the utmost debate with myself, I concluded\nthat this island, which was so exceeding pleasant, fruitful, and no\nfarther from the main land than as I had seen, was not so entirely\nabandoned as I might imagine; that although there were no stated\ninhabitants who lived on the spot, yet that there might sometimes come\nboats off from the shore, who, either with design, or perhaps never but\nwhen they were driven by cross winds, might come to this place; that I\nhad lived here fifteen years now, and had not met with the least shadow\nor figure of any people yet; and that if at any time they should be\ndriven here, it was probable they went away again as soon as ever they\ncould, seeing they had never thought fit to fix here upon any occasion;\nthat the most I could suggest any danger from, was from any casual\naccidental landing of straggling people from the main, who, as it was\nlikely, if they were driven hither, were here against their wills, so\nthey made no stay here, but went off again with all possible speed;\nseldom staying one night on shore, lest they should not have the help of\nthe tides and daylight back again; and that, therefore, I had nothing to\ndo but to consider of some safe retreat, in case I should see any\nsavages land upon the spot.\nNow I began sorely to repent that I had dug my cave so large as to bring\na door through again, which door, as I said, came out beyond where my\nfortification joined to the rock: upon maturely considering this,\ntherefore, I resolved to draw me a second fortification, in the same\nmanner of a semi-circle, at a distance from my wall, just where I had\nplanted a double row of trees about twelve years before, of which I made\nmention: these trees having been planted so thick before, they wanted\nbut few piles to be driven between them, that they might be thicker and\nstronger, and my wall would be soon finished: so that I had now a double\nwall; and my outer wall was thickened with pieces of timber, old cables,\nand every thing I could think of, to make it strong; having in it seven\nlittle holes, about as big as I might put my arm out at. In the inside\nof this, I thickened my wall to about ten feet thick, with continually\nbringing earth out of my cave, and laying it at the foot of the wall,\nand walking upon it; and through the seven holes I contrived to plant\nthe muskets, of which I took notice that I had got seven on shore out of\nthe ship; these I planted like my cannon, and fitted them into frames,\nthat held them like a carriage, so that I could fire all the seven guns\nin two minutes' time: this wall I was many a weary month in finishing,\nand yet never thought myself safe till it was done.\nWhen this was done, I stuck all the ground without my wall, for a great\nlength every way, as full with stakes, or sticks, of the osier-like\nwood, which I found so apt to grow, as they could well stand; insomuch,\nthat I believe I might set in near twenty thousand of them, leaving a\npretty large space between them and my wall, that I might have room to\nsee an enemy, and they might have no shelter from the young trees, if\nthey attempted to approach my outer wall.\nThus, in two years' time, I had a thick grove; and in five or six years'\ntime I had a wood before my dwelling, growing so monstrous thick and\nstrong, that it was indeed perfectly impassable; and no men, of what\nkind soever, would ever imagine that there was any thing beyond it, much\nless a habitation. As for the way which I proposed to myself to go in\nand out (for I left no avenue,) it was by setting two ladders, one to a\npart of the rock which was low, and then broke in, and left room to\nplace another ladder upon that; so when the two ladders were taken down,\nno man living could come down to me without doing himself mischief; and\nif they had come down, they were still on the outside of my outer wall.\nThus I took all the measures human prudence could suggest for my own\npreservation; and it will be seen, at length, that they were not\naltogether without just reason; though I foresaw nothing at that time\nmore than my mere fear suggested to me.\nWhile this was doing, I was not altogether careless of my other affairs;\nfor I had a great concern upon me for my little herd of goats; they were\nnot only a ready supply to me on every occasion, and began to be\nsufficient for me, without the expense of powder and shot, but also\nwithout the fatigue of hunting after the wild ones; and I was loth to\nlose the advantage of them, and to have them all to nurse up\nover again.\nFor this purpose, after long consideration, I could think of but two\nways to preserve them: one was, to find another convenient place to dig\na cave under ground, and to drive them into it every night; and the\nother was, to enclose two or three little bits of land, remote from one\nanother, and as much concealed as I could, where I might keep about half\na dozen young goats in each place; so that if any disaster happened to\nthe flock in general, I might be able to raise them again with little\ntrouble and time: and this, though it would require a great deal of time\nand labour, I thought was the most rational design.\nAccordingly, I spent some time to find out the most retired parts of the\nisland; and I pitched upon one, which was as private, indeed, as my\nheart could wish for: it was a little damp piece of ground, in the\nmiddle of the hollow and thick woods, where, as is observed, I almost\nlost myself once before, endeavouring to come back that way from the\neastern part of the island. Here I found a clear piece of land, near\nthree acres, so surrounded with woods, that it was almost an enclosure\nby nature; at least, it did not want near so much labour to make it so\nas the other pieces of ground I had worked so hard at.\nI immediately went to work with this piece of ground, and in less than a\nmonth's time I had so fenced it round, that my flock, or herd, call it\nwhich you please, who were not so wild now as at first they might be\nsupposed to be, were well enough secured in it: so, without any farther\ndelay, I removed ten young she-goats and two he-goats to this piece;\nand when they were there, I continued to perfect the fence, till I had\nmade it as secure as the other; which, however, I did at more leisure,\nand it took me up more time by a great deal. All this labour I was at\nthe expense of, purely from my apprehensions on the account of the print\nof a man's foot which I had seen; for, as yet, I never saw any human\ncreature come near the island; and I had now lived two years under this\nuneasiness, which, indeed, made my life much less comfortable than it\nwas before, as may be well imagined by any who know what it is to live\nin the constant snare of the fear of man. And this I must observe, with\ngrief too, that the discomposure of my mind had too great impressions\nalso upon the religious part of my thoughts: for the dread and terror of\nfalling into the hands of savages and cannibals lay so upon my spirits,\nthat I seldom found myself in a due temper for application to my Maker,\nat least not with the sedate calmness and resignation of soul which I\nwas wont to do: I rather prayed to God as under great affliction and\npressure of mind, surrounded with danger, and in expectation every night\nof being murdered and devoured before morning; and I must testify from\nmy experience, that a temper of peace, thankfulness, love, and\naffection, is much the more proper frame for prayer than that of terror\nand discomposure; and that under the dread of mischief impending, a man\nis no more fit for a comforting performance of the duty of praying to\nGod, than he is for a repentance on a sick bed; for these discomposures\naffect the mind, as the others do the body; and the discomposure of the\nmind must necessarily be as great a disability as that of the body, and\nmuch greater; praying to God being properly an act of the mind, not\nof the body.\nBut to go on: after I had thus secured one part of my little living\nstock, I went about the whole island, searching for another private\nplace to make such another deposit; when, wandering more to the west\npoint of the island than I had ever done yet, and looking out to sea, I\nthought I saw a boat upon the sea, at a great distance. I had found a\nperspective-glass or two in one of the seamen's chests, which I saved\nout of our ship, but I had it not about me; and this was so remote, that\nI could not tell what to make of it, though I looked at it till my eyes\nwere not able to hold to look any longer: whether it was a boat or not,\nI do not know, but as I descended from the hill I could see no more of\nit; so I gave it over; only I resolved to go no more out without a\nperspective-glass in my pocket. When I was come down the hill to the end\nof the island, where, indeed, I had never been before, I was presently\nconvinced that the seeing the print of a man's foot was not such a\nstrange thing in the island as I imagined: and, but that it was a\nspecial providence that I was cast upon the side of the island where the\nsavages never came, I should easily have known that nothing was more\nfrequent than for the canoes from the main, when they happened to be a\nlittle too far out at sea, to shoot over to that side of the island for\nharbour: likewise, as they often met and fought in their canoes, the\nvictors, having taken any prisoners, would bring them over to this\nshore, where, according to their dreadful customs, being all cannibals,\nthey would kill and eat them; of which hereafter.\nWhen I was come down the hill to the shore, as I said above, being the\nS.W. point of the island, I was perfectly confounded and amazed; nor is\nit possible for me to express the horror of my mind, at seeing the shore\nspread with skulls, hands, feet, and other bones of human bodies; and\nparticularly, I observed a place where there had been a fire made, and a\ncircle dug in the earth, like a cock-pit, where I supposed the savage\nwretches had sat down to their inhuman feastings upon the bodies of\ntheir fellow creatures.\nI was so astonished with the sight of these things, that I entertained\nno notions of any danger to myself from it for a long while: all my\napprehensions were buried in the thoughts of such a pitch of inhuman,\nhellish brutality, and the horror of the degeneracy of human nature,\nwhich, though I had heard of it often, yet I never had so near a view of\nbefore: in short, I turned away my face from the horrid spectacle; my\nstomach grew sick, and I was just at the point of fainting, when nature\ndischarged the disorder from my stomach; and having vomited with\nuncommon violence, I was a little relieved, but could not bear to stay\nin the place a moment; so I got me up the hill again with all the speed\nI could, and walked on towards my own habitation.\nWhen I came a little out of that part of the island, I stood still\nawhile, as amazed, and then recovering myself, I looked up with the\nutmost affection of my soul, and, with a flood of tears in my eyes, gave\nGod thanks, that had cast my first lot in a part of the world where I\nwas distinguished from such dreadful creatures as these; and that,\nthough I had esteemed my present condition very miserable, had yet given\nme so many comforts in it, that I had still more to give thanks for than\nto complain of: and this, above all, that I had, even in this miserable\ncondition, been comforted with the knowledge of Himself, and the hope of\nHis blessing; which was a felicity more than sufficiently equivalent to\nall the misery which I had suffered, or could suffer.\nIn this frame of thankfulness, I went home to my castle, and began to be\nmuch easier now, as to the safety of my circumstances, than ever I was\nbefore: for I observed that these wretches never came to this island in\nsearch of what they could get; perhaps not seeking, not wanting, or not\nexpecting, any thing here; and having often, no doubt, been up in the\ncovered, woody part of it, without finding any thing to their purpose. I\nknew I had been here now almost eighteen years, and never saw the least\nfootsteps of human creature there before; and I might be eighteen years\nmore as entirely concealed as I was now, if I did not discover myself to\nthem, which I had no manner of occasion to do; it being my only business\nto keep myself entirely concealed where I was, unless I found a better\nsort of creatures than cannibals to make myself known to. Yet I\nentertained such an abhorrence of the savage wretches that I have been\nspeaking of, and of the wretched inhuman custom of their devouring and\neating one another up, that I continued pensive and sad, and kept close\nwithin my own circle, for almost two years after this; when I say my\nown circle, I mean by it my three plantations, viz. my castle, my\ncountry-seat, which I called my bower, and my enclosure in the woods:\nnor did I look after this for any other use than as an enclosure for my\ngoats; for the aversion which nature gave me to these hellish wretches\nwas such, that I was as fearful of seeing them as of seeing the Devil\nhimself. I did not so much as go to look after my boat all this time,\nbut began rather to think of making me another; for I could not think of\never making any more attempts to bring the other boat round the island\nto me, lest I should meet with some of these creatures at sea; in which\nif I had happened to have fallen into their hands, I knew what would\nhave been my lot.\nTime, however, and the satisfaction I had that I was in no danger of\nbeing discovered by these people, began to wear off my uneasiness about\nthem; and I began to live just in the same composed manner as before;\nonly with this difference, that I used more caution, and kept my eyes\nmore about me, than I did before, lest I should happen to be seen by any\nof them; and particularly, I was more cautious of firing my gun, lest\nany of them being on the island should happen to hear it. It was\ntherefore a very good providence to me that I had furnished myself with\na tame breed of goats, and that I had no need to hunt any more about the\nwoods, or shoot at them; and if I did catch any of them after this, it\nwas by traps and snares, as I had done before: so that for two years\nafter this, I believe I never fired my gun once off, though I never went\nout without it; and, which was more, as I had saved three pistols out\nof the ship, I always carried them out with me, or at least two of them,\nsticking them in my goat-skin belt. I also furbished up one of the great\ncutlasses that I had out of the ship, and made me a belt to hang it on\nalso; so that I was now a most formidable fellow to look at when I went\nabroad, if you add to the former description of myself, the particular\nof two pistols, and a great broad-sword hanging at my side in a belt,\nbut without a scabbard.\nThings going on thus, as I have said, for some time, I seemed, excepting\nthese cautions, to be reduced to my former calm sedate way of living.\nAll these things tended to show me, more and more, how far my condition\nwas from being miserable, compared to some others; nay, to many other\nparticulars of life, which it might have pleased God to have made my\nlot. It put me upon reflecting how little repining there would be among\nmankind at any condition of life, if people would rather compare their\ncondition with those that were worse, in order to be thankful, than be\nalways comparing them with those which are better, to assist their\nmurmurings and complainings.\nAs in my present condition there were not really many things which I\nwanted, so, indeed, I thought that the frights I had been in about these\nsavage wretches, and the concern I had been in for my own preservation,\nhad taken off the edge of my invention for my own conveniences; and I\nhad dropped a good design, which I had once bent my thoughts too much\nupon, and that was, to try if I could not make some of my barley into\nmalt, and then try to brew myself some beer. This was really a whimsical\nthought, and I reproved myself often for the simplicity of it; for I\npresently saw there would be the want of several things necessary to the\nmaking my beer, that it would be impossible for me to supply: as, first,\ncasks to preserve it in, which was a thing that, as I have observed\nalready, I could never compass; no, though I spent not only many days,\nbut weeks, nay, months, in attempting it, but to no purpose. In the next\nplace, I had no hops to make it keep, no yeast to make it work, no\ncopper or kettle to make it boil; and yet, with all these things\nwanting, I verily believe, had not the frights and terrors I was in\nabout the savages intervened, I had undertaken it, and perhaps brought\nit to pass too; for I seldom gave any thing over without accomplishing\nit, when once I had it in my head to begin it. But my invention now ran\nquite another way; for, night and day, I could think of nothing but how\nI might destroy some of these monsters in their cruel, bloody\nentertainment, and, if possible, save the victim they should bring\nhither to destroy. It would take up a larger volume than this whole work\nis intended to be, to set down all the contrivances I hatched, or rather\nbrooded upon, in my thoughts, for the destroying these creatures, or at\nleast frightening them so as to prevent their coming hither any more:\nbut all this was abortive; nothing could be possible to take effect,\nunless I was to be there to do it myself: and what could one man do\namong them, when perhaps there might be twenty or thirty of them\ntogether, with their darts, or their bows and arrows, with which they\ncould shoot as true to a mark as I could with my gun?\nSometimes I thought of digging a hole under the place where they made\ntheir fire, and putting in five or six pounds of gunpowder, which, when\nthey kindled their fire, would consequently take fire, and blow up all\nthat was near it: but as, in the first place, I should be unwilling to\nwaste so much powder upon them, my store being now within the quantity\nof one barrel, so neither could I be sure of its going off at any\ncertain time, when it might surprise them; and, at best, that it would\ndo little more than just blow the fire about their ears, and fright\nthem, but not sufficient to make them forsake the place: so I laid it\naside; and then proposed that I would place myself in ambush in some\nconvenient place, with my three guns all double-loaded, and, in the\nmiddle of their bloody ceremony, let fly at them, when I should be sure\nto kill or wound perhaps two or three at every shot; and then falling in\nupon them with my three pistols, and my sword, I made no doubt but that\nif there were twenty I should kill them all. This fancy pleased my\nthoughts for some weeks; and I was so full of it, that I often dreamed\nof it, and sometimes that I was just going to let fly at them in my\nsleep. I went so far with it in my imagination, that I employed myself\nseveral days to find out proper places to put myself in ambuscade, as I\nsaid, to watch for them; and I went frequently to the place itself,\nwhich was now grown more familiar to me: but while my mind was thus\nfilled with thoughts of revenge, and a bloody putting twenty or thirty\nof them to the sword, as I may call it, the horror I had at the place,\nand at the signals of the barbarous wretches devouring one another,\nabetted my malice. Well, at length, I found a place in the side of the\nhill, where I was satisfied I might securely wait till I saw any of\ntheir boats coming: and might then, even before they would be ready to\ncome on shore, convey myself, unseen, into some thickets of trees, in\none of which there was a hollow large enough to conceal me entirely and\nthere I might sit and observe all their bloody doings, and take my full\naim at their heads, when they were so close together as that it would be\nnext to impossible that I should miss my shot, or that I could fail\nwounding three or four of them at the first shot. In this place, then, I\nresolved to fix my design; and, accordingly, I prepared two muskets and\nmy ordinary fowling-piece. The two muskets I loaded with a brace of\nslugs each, and four or five smaller bullets, about the size of\npistol-bullets; and the fowling-piece I loaded with near a handful of\nswan-shot, of the largest size: I also loaded my pistols with about four\nbullets each; and in this posture, well provided with ammunition for a\nsecond and third charge, I prepared myself for my expedition.\nAfter I had thus laid the scheme of my design, and, in my imagination,\nput it in practice, I continually made my tour every morning up to the\ntop of the hill, which was from my castle, as I called it, about three\nmiles, or more, to see if I could observe any boats upon the sea, coming\nnear the island, or standing over towards it: but I began to tire of\nthis hard duty, after I had, for two or three months, constantly kept\nmy watch, but came always back without any discovery; there having not,\nin all that time, been the least appearance, not only on or near the\nshore, but on the whole ocean, so far as my eyes or glasses could reach\nevery way.\nAs long as I kept my daily tour to the hill to look out, so long also I\nkept up the vigour of my design, and my spirits seemed to be all the\nwhile in a suitable form for so outrageous an execution as the killing\ntwenty or thirty naked savages, for an offence which I had not at all\nentered into a discussion of in my thoughts, any farther than my\npassions were at first fired by the horror I conceived at the unnatural\ncustom of the people of that country; who, it seems, had been suffered\nby Providence, in his wise disposition of the world, to have no other\nguide than that of their own abominable and vitiated passions; and,\nconsequently, were left, and perhaps had been so for some ages, to act\nsuch horrid things, and receive such dreadful customs, as nothing but\nnature, entirely abandoned by Heaven, and actuated by some hellish\ndegeneracy, could have run them into. But now, when, as I have said, I\nbegan to be weary of the fruitless excursion which I had made so long\nand so far every morning in vain, so my opinion of the action itself\nbegan to alter; and I began, with cooler and calmer thoughts, to\nconsider what I was going to engage in; what authority or call I had to\npretend to be judge and executioner upon these men as criminals, whom\nHeaven had thought fit, for so many ages, to suffer, unpunished, to go\non, and to be, as it were, the executioners of his judgments one upon\nanother. How far these people were offenders against me, and what right\nI had to engage in the quarrel of that blood which they shed\npromiscuously upon one another, I debated this very often with myself,\nthus: How do I know what God himself judges in this particular case? It\nis certain these people do not commit this as a crime; it is not against\ntheir own consciences reproving, or their light reproaching them; they\ndo not know it to be an offence, and then commit it in defiance of\ndivine justice, as we do in almost all the sins we commit. They think it\nno more a crime to kill a captive taken in war, than we do to kill an\nox; nor to eat human flesh, than we do to eat mutton.\nWhen I considered this a little, it followed necessarily that I was\ncertainly in the wrong in it; that these people were not murderers in\nthe sense that I had before condemned them in my thoughts, any more than\nthose Christians were murderers who often put to death the prisoners\ntaken in battle; or more frequently, upon many occasions, put whole\ntroops of men to the sword, without giving quarter, though they threw\ndown their arms and submitted. In the next place, it occurred to me,\nthat although the usage they gave one another was thus brutish and\ninhuman, yet it was really nothing to me; these people had done me no\ninjury: that if they attempted me, or I saw it necessary, for my\nimmediate preservation, to fall upon them, something might be said for\nit; but that I was yet out of their power, and they really had no\nknowledge of me, and consequently no design upon me; and therefore it\ncould not be just for me to fall upon them: that this would justify the\nconduct of the Spaniards in all their barbarities practised in America,\nwhere they destroyed millions of these people: who, however they were\nidolaters and barbarians, and had several bloody and barbarous rites in\ntheir customs, such as sacrificing human bodies to their idols, were\nyet, as to the Spaniards, very innocent people; and that the rooting\nthem out of the country is spoken of with the utmost abhorrence and\ndetestation by even the Spaniards themselves at this time, and by all\nother Christian nations in Europe, as a mere butchery, a bloody and\nunnatural piece of cruelty, unjustifiable either to God or man; and for\nwhich the very name of a Spaniard is reckoned to be frightful and\nterrible to all people of humanity, or of Christian compassion; as if\nthe kingdom of Spain were particularly eminent for the produce of a race\nof men who were without principles of tenderness, or the common bowels\nof pity to the miserable, which is reckoned to be a mark of generous\ntemper in the mind.\nThese considerations really put me to a pause, and to a kind of a full\nstop; and I began, by little and little, to be off my design, and to\nconclude I had taken wrong measures in my resolution to attack the\nsavages; and that it was not my business to meddle with them, unless\nthey first attacked me; and this it was my business, if possible, to\nprevent; but that if I were discovered and attacked by them, I knew my\nduty. On the other hand, I argued with myself, that this really was the\nway not to deliver myself, but entirely to ruin and destroy myself; for\nunless I was sure to kill every one that not only should be on shore at\nthat time, but that should ever come on shore afterwards, if but one of\nthem escaped to tell their country-people what had happened, they would\ncome over again by thousands to revenge the death of their fellows, and\nI should only bring upon myself a certain destruction, which, at\npresent, I had no manner of occasion for. Upon the whole, I concluded,\nthat neither in principle nor in policy, I ought, one way or other, to\nconcern myself in this affair: that my business was, by all possible\nmeans, to conceal myself from them, and not to leave the least signal to\nthem to guess by that there were any living creatures upon the island, I\nmean of human shape. Religion joined in with this prudential resolution;\nand I was convinced now, many ways, that I was perfectly out of my duty\nwhen I was laying all my bloody schemes for the destruction of innocent\ncreatures, I mean innocent as to me. As to the crimes they were guilty\nof towards one another, I had nothing to do with them; they were\nnational, and I ought to leave them to the justice of God, who is the\ngovernor of nations, and knows how, by national punishments, to make a\njust retribution for national offences, and to bring public judgments\nupon those who offend in a public manner, by such ways as best please\nhim. This appeared so clear to me now, that nothing was a greater\nsatisfaction to me than that I had not been suffered to do a thing which\nI now saw so much reason to believe would have been no less a sin than\nthat of wilful murder, if I had committed it; and I gave most humble\nthanks on my knees to God, that had thus delivered me from\nblood-guiltiness; beseeching him to grant me the protection of his\nprovidence, that I might not fall into the hands of the barbarians, or\nthat I might not lay my hands upon them, unless I had a more clear call\nfrom Heaven to do it, in defence of my own life.\nIn this disposition I continued for near a year after this; and so far\nwas I from desiring an occasion for falling upon these wretches, that in\nall that time I never once went up the hill to see whether there were\nany of them in sight, or to know whether any of them had been on shore\nthere or not, that I might not be tempted to renew any of my\ncontrivances against them, or be provoked, by any advantage which might\npresent itself, to fall upon them: only this I did, I went and removed\nmy boat, which I had on the other side of the island, and carried it\ndown to the east end of the whole island, where I ran it into a little\ncove, which I found under some high rocks, and where I knew, by reason\nof the currents, the savages durst not, at least would not come, with\ntheir boats, upon any account whatever. With my boat I carried away\nevery thing that I had left there belonging to her, though not necessary\nfor the bare going thither, viz. a mast and sail which I had made for\nher, and a thing like an anchor, but which, indeed, could not be called\neither anchor or grapnel; however, it was the best I could make of its\nkind: all these I removed, that there might not be the least shadow of\nany discovery, or any appearance of any boat, or of any human\nhabitation, upon the island. Besides this, I kept myself, as I said,\nmore retired than ever, and seldom went from my cell, other than upon my\nconstant employment, viz. to milk my she-goats, and manage my little\nflock in the wood, which, as it was quite on the other part of the\nisland, was quite out of danger; for certain it is, that these savage\npeople, who sometimes haunted this island, never came with any thoughts\nof finding any thing here, and consequently never wandered off from the\ncoast; and I doubt not but they might have been several times on shore\nafter my apprehensions of them had made me cautious, as well as before.\nIndeed, I looked back with some horror upon the thoughts of what my\ncondition would have been if I had chopped upon them and been discovered\nbefore that, when, naked and unarmed, except with one gun, and that\nloaded often only with small shot, I walked every where, peeping and\npeering about the island to see what I could get; what a surprise should\nI have been in, if, when I discovered the print of a man's foot, I had,\ninstead of that, seen fifteen or twenty savages, and found them pursuing\nme, and by the swiftness of their running, no possibility of my escaping\nthem! The thoughts of this sometimes sunk my very soul within me, and\ndistressed my mind so much, that I could not soon recover it, to think\nwhat I should have done, and how I should not only have been unable to\nresist them, but even should not have had presence of mind enough to do\nwhat I might have done; much less what now, after so much consideration\nand preparation, I might be able to do. Indeed, after serious thinking\nof these things, I would be very melancholy, and sometimes it would last\na great while; but I resolved it all, at last, into thankfulness to that\nProvidence which had delivered me from so many unseen dangers, and had\nkept from me those mischiefs which I could have no way been the agent in\ndelivering myself from, because I had not the least notion of any such\nthing depending, or the least supposition of its being possible. This\nrenewed a contemplation which often had come to my thoughts in former\ntime, when first I began to see the merciful dispositions of Heaven, in\nthe dangers we run through in this life; how wonderfully we are\ndelivered when we know nothing of it; how, when we are in a quandary,\n(as we call it) a doubt or hesitation, whether to go this way, or that\nway, a secret hint shall direct us this way, when we intended to go that\nway: nay, when sense, our own inclination, and perhaps business, has\ncalled to go the other way, yet a strange impression upon the mind, from\nwe know not what springs, and by we know not what power, shall over-rule\nus to go this way; and it shall afterwards appear, that had we gone that\nway which we should have gone, and even to our imagination ought to have\ngone, we should have been ruined and lost. Upon these, and many like\nreflections, I afterwards made it a certain rule with me, that whenever\nI found those secret hints or pressings of mind, to doing or not doing\nany thing that presented, or going this way or that way, I never failed\nto obey the secret dictate; though I knew no other reason for it than\nthat such a pressure, or such a hint, hung upon my mind. I could give\nmany examples of the success of this conduct in the course of my life,\nbut more especially in the latter part of my inhabiting this unhappy\nisland; besides many occasions which it is very likely I might have\ntaken notice of, if I had seen with the same eyes then that I see with\nnow. But it is never too late to be wise; and I cannot but advise all\nconsidering men, whose lives are attended with such extraordinary\nincidents as mine, or even though not so extraordinary, not to slight\nsuch secret intimations of Providence, let them come from what invisible\nintelligence they will. That I shall not discuss, and perhaps cannot\naccount for; but certainly they are a proof of the converse of spirits,\nand a secret communication between those embodied and those unembodied,\nand such a proof as can never be withstood; of which I shall have\noccasion to give some very remarkable instances in the remainder of my\nsolitary residence in this dismal place.\nI believe the reader of this will not think it strange if I confess that\nthese anxieties, these constant dangers I lived in, and the concern that\nwas now upon me, put an end to all invention, and to all the\ncontrivances that I had laid for my future accommodations and\nconveniences. I had the care of my safety more now upon my hands than\nthat of my food. I cared not to drive a nail, or chop a stick of wood\nnow, for fear the noise I might make should be heard: much less would I\nfire a gun, for the same reason: and, above all, I was intolerably\nuneasy at making any fire, lest the smoke, which is visible at a great\ndistance in the day, should betray me. For this reason I removed that\npart of my business which required fire, such as burning of pots and\npipes, &c. into my new apartment in the woods; where, after I had been\nsome time, I found, to my unspeakable consolation, a mere natural cave\nin the earth, which went in a vast way, and where, I dare say, no\nsavage, had he been at the mouth of it, would be so hardy as to venture\nin; nor, indeed, would any man else, but one who, like me, wanted\nnothing so much as a safe retreat.\nThe mouth of this hollow was at the bottom of a great rock, where by\nmere accident (I would say, if I did not see abundant reason to ascribe\nall such things now to Providence,) I was cutting down some thick\nbranches of trees to make charcoal; and before I go on, I must observe\nthe reason of my making this charcoal, which was thus: I was afraid of\nmaking a smoke about my habitation, as I said before; and yet I could\nnot live there without baking my bread, cooking my meat, &c.; so I\ncontrived to burn some wood here, as I had seen done in England, under\nturf, till it became chark, or dry coal: and then putting the fire out,\nI preserved the coal to carry home, and perform the other services for\nwhich fire was wanting, without danger of smoke. But this is by the\nby:--While I was cutting down some wood here, I perceived that behind a\nvery thick branch of low brush-wood, or under-wood, there was a kind of\nhollow place: I was curious to look in it, and getting with difficulty\ninto the mouth of it, I found it was pretty large: that is to say,\nsufficient for me to stand upright in it, and perhaps another with me:\nbut I must confess to you that I made more haste out than I did in,\nwhen, looking farther into the place, and which was perfectly dark, I\nsaw two broad shining eyes of some creature, whether devil or man I knew\nnot, which twinkled like two stars; the dim light from the cave's mouth\nshining directly in, and making the reflection. However, after some\npause, I recovered myself, and began to call myself a thousand fools,\nand to think, that he that was afraid to see the devil was not fit to\nlive twenty years in an island all alone; and that I might well think\nthere was nothing in this cave that was more frightful than myself. Upon\nthis, plucking up my courage, I took up a firebrand, and in I rushed\nagain, with the stick flaming in my hand: I had not gone three steps in,\nbut I was almost as much frightened as I was before; for I heard a very\nloud sigh, like that of a man in some pain, and it was followed by a\nbroken noise, as of words half-expressed, and then a deep sigh again. I\nstepped back, and was indeed struck with such a surprise, that it put me\ninto a cold sweat; and if I had had a hat on my head, I will not answer\nfor it, that my hair might not have lifted it off. But still plucking up\nmy spirits as well as I could, and encouraging myself a little with\nconsidering that the power and presence of God was every where, and was\nable to protect me, upon this I stepped forward again, and by the light\nof the firebrand, holding it up a little over my head, I saw lying on\nthe ground a most monstrous, frightful, old he-goat just making his\nwill, as we say, and gasping for life; and dying, indeed, of mere old\nage. I stirred him a little to see if I could get him out, and he\nessayed to get up, but was not able to raise himself; and I thought with\nmyself he might even lie there; for if he had frightened me, so he would\ncertainly fright any of the savages, if any one of them should be so\nhardy as to come in there while he had any life in him.\nI was now recovered from my surprise, and began to look round me, when I\nfound the cave was but very small, that is to say, it might be about\ntwelve feet over, but in no manner of shape, neither round nor square,\nno hands having ever been employed in making it but those of mere\nNature. I observed also that there was a place at the farther side of it\nthat went in further, but was so low that it required me to creep upon\nmy hands and knees to go into it, and whither it went I knew not: so\nhaving no candle, I gave it over for that time; but resolved to come\nagain the next day, provided with candles and a tinder-box, which I had\nmade of the lock of one of the muskets, with some wild fire in the pan.\nAccordingly, the next day I came provided with six large candles of my\nown making (for I made very good candles now of goats' tallow, but was\nhard set for candle-wick, using sometimes rags or rope-yarn, and\nsometimes the dried rind of a weed like nettles;) and going into this\nlow place, I was obliged to creep upon all fours, as I have said, almost\nten yards; which, by the way, I thought was a venture bold enough,\nconsidering that I knew not how far it might go, nor what was beyond it.\nWhen I had got through the strait, I found the roof rose higher up, I\nbelieve near twenty feet; but never was such a glorious sight seen in\nthe island, I dare say, as it was, to look round the sides and roof of\nthis vault or cave; the wall reflected an hundred thousand lights to me\nfrom my two candles. What it was in the rock, whether diamonds, or any\nother precious stones, or gold, which I rather supposed it to be, I\nknew not. The place I was in was a most delightful cavity or grotto of\nits kind, as could be expected, though perfectly dark; the floor was dry\nand level, and had a sort of a small loose gravel upon it, so that there\nwas no nauseous or venomous creature to be seen, neither was there any\ndamp or wet on the sides or roof: the only difficulty in it was the\nentrance; which, however, as it was a place of security, and such a\nretreat as I wanted, I thought that was a convenience; so that I was\nreally rejoiced at the discovery, and resolved, without any delay, to\nbring some of those things which I was most anxious about to this place;\nparticularly, I resolved to bring hither my magazine of powder, and all\nmy spare arms, viz. two fowling-pieces, for I had three in all, and\nthree muskets, for of them I had eight in all: so I kept at my castle\nonly five, which stood ready-mounted, like pieces of cannon, on my\noutmost fence; and were ready also to take out upon any expedition. Upon\nthis occasion of removing my ammunition, I happened to open the barrel\nof powder, which I took up out of the sea, and which had been wet; and I\nfound that the water had penetrated about three or four inches into the\npowder on every side, which, caking, and growing hard, had preserved the\ninside like a kernel in the shell; so that I had near sixty pounds of\nvery good powder in the centre of the cask: this was a very agreeable\ndiscovery to me at that time; so I carried all away thither, never\nkeeping above two or three pounds of powder with me in my castle, for\nfear of a surprise of any kind: I also carried thither all the lead I\nhad left for bullets.\nI fancied myself now like one of the ancient giants, which were said to\nlive in caves and holes in the rocks, where none could come at them; for\nI persuaded myself, while I was here, that if five hundred savages were\nto hunt me, they could never find me out; or, if they did, they would\nnot venture to attack me here. The old goat, whom I found expiring, died\nin the mouth of the cave the next day after I made this discovery: and I\nfound it much easier to dig a great hole there, and throw him in and\ncover him with earth, than to drag him out; so I interred him there, to\nprevent offence to my nose.\nI was now in the twenty-third year of my residence in this island; and\nwas so naturalized to the place, and the manner of living, that could I\nhave but enjoyed the certainty that no savages would come to the place\nto disturb me, I could have been content to have capitulated for\nspending the rest of my time there, even to the last moment, till I had\nlaid me down and died, like the old goat in the cave. I had also arrived\nto some little diversions and amusements, which made the time pass a\ngreat deal more pleasantly with me than it did before: as, first, I had\ntaught my Pol, as I noted before, to speak; and he did it so familiarly,\nand talked so articulately and plain, that it was very pleasant to me;\nfor I believe no bird ever spoke plainer; and he lived with me no less\nthan six and twenty years: how long he might have lived afterwards I\nknow not, though I know they have a notion in the Brazils that they\nlive a hundred years. My dog was a very pleasant and loving companion to\nme for no less than sixteen years of my time, and then died of mere old\nage. As for my cats, they multiplied, as I have observed, to that\ndegree, that I was obliged to shoot several of them at first, to keep\nthem from devouring me and all I had; but, at length, when the two old\nones I brought with me were gone, and after some time continually\ndriving them from me, and letting them have no provision with me, they\nall ran wild into the woods, except two or three favourites, which I\nkept tame, and whose young, when they had any, I always drowned; and\nthese were part of my family. Besides these, I always kept two or three\nhousehold kids about me, whom I taught to feed out of my hand; and I had\ntwo more parrots, which talked pretty well, and would all call Robin\nCrusoe, but none like my first; nor, indeed, did I take the pains with\nany of them that I had done with him. I had also several tame sea-fowls,\nwhose names I knew not, that I caught upon the shore, and cut their\nwings; and the little stakes which I had planted before my castle wall\nbeing now grown up to a good thick grove, these fowls all lived among\nthese low trees, and bred there, which was very agreeable to me; so\nthat, as I said above, I began to be very well contented with the life I\nled, if I could have been secured from the dread of the savages. But it\nwas otherwise directed; and it may not be amiss for all people who shall\nmeet with my story, to make this just observation from it, viz. How\nfrequently, in the course of our lives, the evil which in itself we seek\nmost to shun, and which, when we are, fallen into, is the most dreadful\nto us, is oftentimes the very means or door of our deliverance, by which\nalone we can be raised again from the affliction we are fallen into. I\ncould give many examples of this in the course of my unaccountable life;\nbut in nothing was it more particularly remarkable than in the\ncircumstances of my last years of solitary residence in this island.\nIt was now the month of December, as I said above, in my twenty-third\nyear; and this, being the southern solstice (for winter I cannot call\nit,) was the particular time of my harvest, and required my being pretty\nmuch abroad in the fields: when going out pretty early in the morning,\neven before it was thorough daylight, I was surprised with seeing a\nlight of some fire upon the shore, at a distance from me of about two\nmiles, towards the end of the island where I had observed some savages\nhad been, as before, and not on the other side; but, to my great\naffliction, it was on my side of the island.\nI was indeed terribly surprised at the sight, and stopped short within\nmy grove, not daring to go out, lest I might be surprised, and yet I had\nno more peace within, from the apprehensions I had that if these\nsavages, in rambling over the island, should find my corn standing or\ncut, or any of my works and improvements, they would immediately\nconclude that there were people in the place, and would then never give\nover till they had found me out. In this extremity, I went back directly\nto my castle, pulled up the ladder after me, and made all things without\nlook as wild and natural as I could.\nThen I prepared myself within, putting myself in a posture of defence:\nI loaded all my cannon, as I called them, that is to say, my muskets,\nwhich were mounted upon my new fortification, and all my pistols, and\nresolved to defend myself to the last gasp; not forgetting seriously to\ncommend myself to the divine protection, and earnestly to pray to God to\ndeliver me out of the hands of the barbarians. I continued in this\nposture about two hours; and began to be mighty impatient for\nintelligence abroad, for I had no spies to send out. After sitting\nawhile longer, and musing what I should do in this, I was not able to\nbear sitting in ignorance any longer; so setting up my ladder to the\nside of the hill, where there was a flat place, as I observed before,\nand then pulling the ladder up after me, I set it up again, and mounted\nto the top of the hill; and pulling out my perspective-glass, which I\nhad taken on purpose, I laid me down flat on my belly on the ground, and\nbegan to look for the place. I presently found there were no less than\nnine naked savages, sitting round a small fire they had made, not to\nwarm them, for they had no need of that, the weather being extremely\nhot, but, as I supposed, to dress some of their barbarous diet of human\nflesh, which they had brought with them, whether alive or dead, I\ncould not tell.\nThey had two canoes with them, which they had hauled up upon the shore;\nand as it was then tide of ebb, they seemed to me to wait for the return\nof the flood to go away again. It is not easy to imagine what confusion\nthis sight put me into, especially seeing them come on my side of the\nisland, and so near me too; but when I considered their coming must be\nalways with the current of the ebb, I began, afterwards, to be more\nsedate in my mind, being satisfied that I might go abroad with safety\nall the time of the tide of flood, if they were not on shore before: and\nhaving made this observation, I went abroad about my harvest-work with\nthe more composure.\nAs I expected, so it proved; for as soon as the tide made to the\nwestward, I saw them all take boat, and row (or paddle, as we call it)\naway. I should have observed, that for an hour or more before they went\noff, they went a dancing; and I could easily discern their postures and\ngestures by my glass. I could not perceive, by my nicest observation,\nbut that they were stark naked, and had not the least covering upon\nthem; but whether they were men or women, I could not distinguish.\nAs soon as I saw them shipped and gone, I took two guns upon my\nshoulders, and two pistols in my girdle, and my great sword by my side,\nwithout a scabbard, and with all the speed I was able to make, went away\nto the hill where I had discovered the first appearance of all; and as\nsoon as I got thither, which was not in less than two hours (for I could\nnot go apace, being so loaden with arms as I was,) I perceived there had\nbeen three canoes more of savages at that place; and looking out\nfarther, I saw they were all at sea together, making over for the main.\nThis was a dreadful sight to me, especially as, going down to the shore,\nI could see the marks of horror, which the dismal work they had been\nabout had left behind it, viz. the blood, the bones, and part of the\nflesh, of human bodies, eaten and devoured by those wretches with\nmerriment and sport. I was so filled with indignation at the sight, that\nI now began to premeditate the destruction of the next that I saw there,\nlet them be whom or how many soever. It seemed evident to me that the\nvisits which they made thus to this island were not very frequent, for\nit was above fifteen months before any more of them came on shore there\nagain; that is to say, I neither saw them; nor any footsteps or signals\nof them, in all that time; for, as to the rainy seasons, then they are\nsure not to come abroad, at least not so far: yet all this while I lived\nuncomfortably, by reason of the constant apprehensions of their coming\nupon me by surprise: from whence I observe, that the expectation of evil\nis more bitter than the suffering, especially if there is no room to\nshake off that expectation, or those apprehensions.\nDuring all this time I was in the murdering humour, and took up most of\nmy hours, which should have been better employed, in contriving how to\ncircumvent and fall upon them, the very next time I should see them;\nespecially if they should be divided, as they were the last time, into\ntwo parties: nor did I consider at all, that if I killed one party,\nsuppose ten or a dozen, I was still the next day, or week, or month, to\nkill another, and so another, even _ad infinitum_, till I should be at\nlength no less a murderer than they were in being man-eaters, and\nperhaps much more so. I spent my days now in great perplexity and\nanxiety of mind, expecting that I should, one day or other, fall into\nthe hands of these merciless creatures; and if I did at any time\nventure abroad, it was not without looking round me with the greatest\ncare and caution imaginable. And now I found, to my great comfort, how\nhappy it was that I had provided a tame flock or herd of goats; for I\ndurst not, upon any account, fire my gun, especially near that side of\nthe island where they usually came, lest I should alarm the savages; and\nif they had fled from me now, I was sure to have them come again, with\nperhaps two or three hundred canoes with them, in a few days, and then I\nknew what to expect. However, I wore out a year and three months more\nbefore I ever saw any more of the savages, and then I found them again,\nas I shall soon observe. It is true, they might have been there once or\ntwice, but either they made no stay, or at least I did not see them: but\nin the month of May, as near as I could calculate, and in my four and\ntwentieth year, I had a very strange encounter with them; of which in\nits place.\nThe perturbation of my mind, during this fifteen or sixteen months'\ninterval, was very great; I slept unquiet, dreamed always frightful\ndreams, and often started out of my sleep in the night: in the day great\ntroubles overwhelmed my mind; and in the night, I dreamed often of\nkilling the savages, and of the reasons why I might justify the doing of\nit. But, to wave all this for a while.--It was in the middle of May, on\nthe sixteenth day, I think, as well as my poor wooden calendar would\nreckon, for I marked all upon the post still; I say, it was on the\nsixteenth of May that it blew a very great storm of wind all day, with a\ngreat deal of lightning and thunder, and a very foul night it was after\nit. I knew not what was the particular occasion of it, but as I was\nreading in the Bible, and taken up with very serious thoughts about my\npresent condition, I was surprised with the noise of a gun, as I\nthought, fired at sea. This was, to be sure, a surprise quite of a\ndifferent nature from any I had met with before; for the notions this\nput into my thoughts were quite of another kind. I started up in the\ngreatest haste imaginable, and, in a trice, clapped my ladder to the\nmiddle place of the rock, and pulled it after me; and mounting it the\nsecond time, got to the top of the hill the very moment that a flash of\nfire bid me listen for a second gun, which accordingly, in about half a\nminute, I heard; and, by the sound, knew that it was from that part of\nthe sea where I was driven down the current in my boat. I immediately\nconsidered that this must be some ship in distress, and that they had\nsome comrade, or some other ship in company, and fired these guns for\nsignals of distress, and to obtain help. I had the presence of mind, at\nthat minute, to think, that though I could not help them, it might be\nthey might help me: so I brought together all the dry wood I could get\nat hand, and making a good handsome pile, I set it on fire upon the\nhill. The wood was dry, and blazed freely; and though the wind blew very\nhard, yet it burnt fairly out, so that I was certain, if there was any\nsuch thing as a ship, they must needs see it, and no doubt they did; for\nas soon as ever my fire blazed up I heard another gun, and after that\nseveral others, all from the same quarter, I plied my fire all night\nlong, till daybreak; and when it was broad day, and the air cleared up,\nI saw something at a great distance at sea, full east of the island,\nwhether a sail or a hull I could not distinguish, no, not with my glass;\nthe distance was so great, and the weather still something hazy also; at\nleast it was so out at sea.\nI looked frequently at it all that day, and soon perceived that it did\nnot move; so I presently concluded that it was a ship at anchor; and\nbeing eager, you may be sure, to be satisfied, I took my gun in my hand,\nand ran towards the south side of the island, to the rocks where I had\nformerly been carried away with the current; and getting up there, the\nweather by this time being perfectly clear, I could plainly see, to my\ngreat sorrow, the wreck of a ship, cast away in the night upon those\nconcealed rocks which I found when I was out in my boat; and which\nrocks, as they checked the violence of the stream, and made a kind of\ncounter-stream, or eddy, were the occasion of my recovering from the\nmost desperate, hopeless condition that ever I had been in, all my life.\nThus, what is one man's safety is another man's destruction; for it\nseems these men, whoever they were, being out of their knowledge, and\nthe rocks being wholly under water, had been driven upon them in the\nnight, the wind blowing hard at E.N.E. Had they seen the island, as I\nmust necessarily suppose they did not, they must, as I thought, have\nendeavoured to have saved themselves on shore by the help of their boat;\nbut their firing off guns for help, especially when they saw, as I\nimagined, my fire, filled me with many thoughts: first, I imagined that\nupon seeing my light, they might have put themselves into their boat,\nand endeavoured to make the shore; but that the sea going very high,\nthey might have been cast away: other times I imagined that they might\nhave lost their boat before, as might be the case many ways; as,\nparticularly, by the breaking of the sea upon their ship, which many\ntimes obliges men to stave, or take in pieces, their boat, and sometimes\nto throw it overboard with their own hands: other times I imagined they\nhad some other ship or ships in company, who, upon the signals of\ndistress they had made, had taken them up and carried them off: other\ntimes I fancied they were all gone off to sea in their boat, and being\nhurried away by the current that I had been formerly in, were carried\nout into the great ocean, where there was nothing but misery and\nperishing; and that, perhaps, they might by this time think of starving,\nand of being in a condition to eat one another.\nAs all these were but conjectures at best, so, in the condition I was\nin, I could do no more than look on upon the misery of the poor men, and\npity them; which had still this good effect on my side, that it gave me\nmore and more cause to give thanks to God, who had so happily and\ncomfortably provided for me in my desolate condition; and that of two\nships' companies who were now cast away upon this part of the world, not\none life should be spared but mine. I learned here again to observe,\nthat it is very rare that the providence of God casts us into any\ncondition of life so low, or any misery so great, but we may see\nsomething or other to be thankful for, and may see others in worse\ncircumstances than our own. Such certainly was the case of these men, of\nwhom I could not so much as see room to suppose any of them were saved;\nnothing could make it rational so much as to wish or expect that they\ndid not all perish there, except the possibility only of their being\ntaken up by another ship in company; and this was but mere possibility\nindeed, for I saw not the least sign or appearance of any such thing. I\ncannot explain, by any possible energy of words, what a strange longing\nor hankering of desires I felt in my soul upon this sight, breaking out\nsometimes thus: \"O that there had been but one or two, nay, or but one\nsoul, saved out of this ship, to have escaped to me, that I might but\nhave had one companion, one fellow-creature to have spoken to me, and to\nhave conversed with!\" In all the time of my solitary life, I never felt\nso earnest, so strong a desire after the society of my fellow-creatures,\nor so deep a regret at the want of it.\nThere are some secret moving springs in the affections, which, when they\nare set a going by some object in view, or, though not in view, yet\nrendered present to the mind by the power of imagination, that motion\ncarries out the soul, by its impetuosity, to such violent, eager\nembracings of the object, that the absence of it is insupportable. Such\nwere these earnest wishings that but one man had been saved. I believe I\nrepeated the words, \"O that it had been but one!\" a thousand times; and\nmy desires were so moved by it, that when I spoke the words my hands\nwould clinch together, and my fingers would press the palms of my\nhands, so that if I had had any soft thing in my hand, it would have\ncrushed it involuntarily; and the teeth in my head would strike\ntogether, and set against one another so strong, that for some time I\ncould not part them again. Let the naturalists explain these things, and\nthe reason and manner of them: all I can say to them is, to describe the\nfact, which was even surprising to me, when I found it, though I knew\nnot from whence it proceeded: it was doubtless the effect of ardent\nwishes, and of strong ideas formed in my mind, realizing the comfort\nwhich the conversation of one of my fellow-christians would have been to\nme.--But it was not to be; either their fate or mine, or both, forbade\nit: for, till the last year of my being on this island, I never knew\nwhether any were saved out of that ship or no; and had only the\naffliction, some days after, to see the corpse of a drowned boy come on\nshore at the end of the island which was next the shipwreck. He had no\nclothes on but a seaman's waistcoat, a pair of open-kneed linen drawers,\nand a blue linen shirt; but nothing to direct me so much as to guess\nwhat nation he was of: he had nothing in his pockets but two\npieces-of-eight and a tobacco-pipe;--the last was to me of ten times\nmore value than the first.\nIt was now calm, and I had a great mind to venture out in my boat to\nthis wreck, not doubting but I might find something on board that might\nbe useful to me: but that did not altogether press me so much as the\npossibility that there might be yet some living creature on board, whose\nlife I might not only save, but might, by saving that life, comfort my\nown to the last degree; and this thought clung so to my heart, that I\ncould not be quiet night or day, but I must venture out in my boat on\nboard this wreck; and committing the rest to God's providence, I thought\nthe impression was so strong upon my mind that it could not be resisted,\nthat it must come from some invisible direction, and that I should be\nwanting to myself if I did not go.\nUnder the power of this impression, I hastened back to my castle,\nprepared every thing for my voyage, took a quantity of bread, a great\npot of fresh water, a compass to steer by, a bottle of rum (for I had\nstill a great deal of that left,) and a basket of raisins: and thus,\nloading myself with every thing necessary, I went down to my boat, got\nthe water out of her, put her afloat, loaded all my cargo in her, and\nthen went home again for more. My second cargo was a great bag of rice,\nthe umbrella to set up over my head for a shade, another large pot of\nfresh water, and about two dozen of my small loaves, or barley-cakes,\nmore than before, with a bottle of goat's milk and a cheese: all which,\nwith great labour and sweat, I carried to my boat; and praying to God to\ndirect my voyage, I put out; and rowing, or paddling, the canoe along\nthe shore, came at last to the utmost point of the island on the\nnorth-east side. And now I was to launch out into the ocean, and either\nto venture or not to venture. I looked on the rapid currents which ran\nconstantly on both sides of the island at a distance, and which were\nvery terrible to me, from the remembrance of the hazard I had been in\nbefore, and my heart began to fail me; for I foresaw that if I was\ndriven into either of those currents, I should be carried a great way\nout to sea, and perhaps out of my reach, or sight of the island again;\nand that then, as my boat was but small, if any little gale of wind\nshould rise, I should be inevitably lost.\nThese thoughts so oppressed my mind, that I began to give over my\nenterprise; and having hauled my boat into a little creek on the shore,\nI stepped out, and sat me down upon a rising bit of ground, very pensive\nand anxious, between fear and desire, about my voyage; when, as I was\nmusing, I could perceive that the tide was turned, and the flood come\non; upon which my going was impracticable for so many hours. Upon this,\npresently it occurred to me, that I should go up to the highest piece of\nground I could find, and observe, if I could how the sets of the tide,\nor currents, lay when the flood came in, that I might judge whether, if\nI was driven one way out, I might not expect to be driven another way\nhome, with the same rapidness of the currents. This thought was no\nsooner in my head than I cast my eye upon a little hill, which\nsufficiently overlooked the sea both ways, and from whence I had a clear\nview of the currents, or sets of the tide, and which way I was to guide\nmyself in my return. Here I found, that as the current of the ebb set\nout close by the south point of the island, so the current of the flood\nset in close by the shore of the north side; and that I had nothing to\ndo but to keep to the north side of the island in my return, and I\nshould do well enough.\nEncouraged with this observation, I resolved, the next morning, to set\nout with the first of the tide; and reposing myself for the night in my\ncanoe, under the great watch-coat I mentioned, I launched out. I first\nmade a little out to sea, full north, till I began to feel the benefit\nof the current, which set eastward, and which carried me at a great\nrate; and yet did not so hurry me as the current on the south side had\ndone before, so as to take from me all government of the boat; but\nhaving a strong steerage with my paddle, I went at a great rate directly\nfor the wreck, and in less than two hours I came up to it. It was a\ndismal sight to look at: the ship, which, by its building, was Spanish,\nstuck fast, jammed in between two rocks; all the stern and quarter of\nher were beaten to pieces with the sea; and as her forecastle, which\nstuck in the rocks, had run on with great violence, her mainmast and\nforemast were brought by the board, that is to say, broken short off;\nbut her bowsprit was sound, and the head and bow appeared firm. When I\ncame close to her, a dog appeared upon her, who, seeing me coming,\nyelped and cried; and as soon as I called him, jumped into the sea to\ncome to me; I took him into the boat, but found him almost dead with\nhunger and thirst. I gave him a cake of my bread, and he devoured it\nlike a ravenous wolf that had been starving a fortnight in the snow: I\nthen gave the poor creature some fresh water, with which, if I would\nhave let him, he would have burst himself. After this, I went on board;\nbut the first sight I met with was two men drowned in the cook-room, or\nforecastle of the ship, with their arms fast about one another. I\nconcluded, as is indeed probable, that when the ship struck, it being in\na storm, the sea broke so high, and so continually over her, that the\nmen were not able to bear it, and were strangled with the constant\nrushing in of the water, as much as if they had been under water.\nBesides the dog, there was nothing left in the ship that had life; nor\nany goods, that I could see, but what were spoiled by the water. There\nwere some casks of liquor, whether wine or brandy I knew not, which lay\nlower in the hold, and which, the water being ebbed out, I could see;\nbut they were too big to meddle with. I saw several chests, which I\nbelieved belonged to some of the seamen; and I got two of them into the\nboat, without examining what was in them. Had the stern of the ship been\nfixed, and the fore-part broken off, I am persuaded I might have made a\ngood voyage; for, by what I found in these two chests, I had room to\nsuppose the ship had a great deal of wealth on board; and, if I may\nguess from the course she steered, she must have been bound from Buenos\nAyres, or the Rio de la Plata, in the south part of America, beyond the\nBrazils, to the Havanna, in the Gulf of Mexico, and so perhaps to Spain.\nShe had, no doubt, a great treasure in her, but of no use, at that time,\nto any body; and what became of her crew, I then knew not.\nI found, besides these chests, a little cask full of liquor, of about\ntwenty gallons, which I got into my boat with much difficulty. There\nwere several muskets in the cabin, and a great powder-horn, with about\nfour pounds of powder in it; as for the muskets, I had no occasion for\nthem, so I left them, but took the powder-horn. I took a fireshovel and\ntongs, which I wanted extremely; as also two little brass kettles, a\ncopper pot to make chocolate, and a gridiron: and with this cargo, and\nthe dog, I came away, the tide beginning to make home again; and the\nsame evening, about an hour within night, I reached the island again,\nweary and fatigued to the last degree. I reposed that night in the boat;\nand in the morning I resolved to harbour what I had got in my new cave,\nand not carry it home to my castle. After refreshing myself, I got all\nmy cargo on shore, and began to examine the particulars. The cask of\nliquor I found to be a kind of rum, but not such as we had at the\nBrazils, and, in a word, not at all good; but when I came to open the\nchests, I found several things of great use to me: for example, I found\nin one a fine case of bottles, of an extraordinary kind, and filled with\ncordial waters, fine and very good; the bottles held about three pints\neach, and were tipped with silver. I found two pots of very good\nsuccades, or sweetmeats, so fastened also on the top, that the salt\nwater had not hurt them; and two more of the same, which the water had\nspoiled. I found some very good shirts, which were very welcome to me;\nand about a dozen and a half of white linen handkerchiefs and coloured\nneckcloths; the former were also very welcome, being exceeding\nrefreshing to wipe my face in a hot day. Besides this, when I came to\nthe till in the chest, I found there three great bags of\npieces-of-eight, which held about eleven hundred pieces in all; and in\none of them, wrapped up in a paper, six doubloons of gold, and some\nsmall bars or wedges of gold; I suppose they might all weigh near a\npound. In the other chest were some clothes, but of little value; but,\nby the circumstances, it must have belonged to the gunner's mate; though\nthere was no powder in it, except two pounds of fine glazed powder, in\nthree small flasks, kept, I suppose, for charging their fowling-pieces\non occasion. Upon the whole, I got very little by this voyage that was\nof any use to me; for, as to the money, I had no manner of occasion for\nit; it was to me as the dirt under my feet; and I would have given it\nall for three or four pair of English shoes and stockings, which were\nthings I greatly wanted, but had none on my feet for many years. I had\nindeed got two pair of shoes now, which I took off the feet of the two\ndrowned men whom I saw in the wreck, and I found two pair more in one of\nthe chests, which were very welcome to me; but they were not like our\nEnglish shoes, either for ease or service, being rather what we call\npumps than shoes. I found in this seaman's chest about fifty\npieces-of-eight in rials, but no gold: I suppose this belonged to a\npoorer man than the other, which seemed to belong to some officer. Well,\nhowever, I lugged this money home to my cave, and laid it up, as I had\ndone that before which I brought from our own ship: but it was a great\npity, as I said, that the other part of this ship had not come to my\nshare; for I am satisfied I might have loaded my canoe several times\nover with money; and, thought I, if I ever escape to England, it might\nlie here safe enough till I may come again and fetch it.\nHaving now brought all my things on shore, and secured them, I went back\nto my boat, and rowed or paddled her along the shore to her old\nharbour, where I laid her up, and made the best of my way to my old\nhabitation, where I found every thing safe and quiet. I began now to\nrepose myself, live after my old fashion, and take care of my family\naffairs; and, for a while, I lived easy enough, only that I was more\nvigilant than I used to be, looked out oftener, and did not go abroad so\nmuch; and if at any time I did stir with any freedom, it was always to\nthe east part of the island, where I was pretty well satisfied the\nsavages never came, and where I could go without so many precautions,\nand such a load of arms and ammunition as I always carried with me if I\nwent the other way. I lived in this condition near two years more; but\nmy unlucky head, that was always to let me know it was born to make my\nbody miserable, was all these two years filled with projects and\ndesigns, how, if it were possible, I might get away from this island:\nfor, sometimes I was for making another voyage to the wreck, though my\nreason told me that there was nothing left there worth the hazard of my\nvoyage; sometimes for a ramble one way, sometimes another; and I believe\nverily, if I had had the boat that I went from Sallee in, I should have\nventured to sea, bound any where, I knew not whither. I have been, in\nall my circumstances, a _memento_ to those who are touched with the\ngeneral plague of mankind, whence, for aught I know, one half of their\nmiseries flow; I mean that of not being satisfied with the station\nwherein God and nature hath placed them: for, not to look back upon my\nprimitive condition, and the excellent advice of my father, the\nopposition to which was, as I may call it, my _original sin_, my\nsubsequent mistakes of the same kind had been the means of my coming\ninto this miserable condition; for had that Providence, which so happily\nseated me at the Brazils as a planter, blessed me with confined desires,\nand I could have been contented to have gone on gradually, I might have\nbeen, by this time, I mean in the time of my being in this island, one\nof the most considerable planters in the Brazils; nay, I am persuaded,\nthat by the improvements I had made in that little time I lived there,\nand the increase I should probably have made if I had remained, I might\nhave been worth a hundred thousand moidores: and what business had I to\nleave a settled fortune, a well-stocked plantation, improving and\nincreasing, to turn supercargo to Guinea to fetch negroes, when patience\nand time would have so increased our stock at home, that we could have\nbought them at our own door from those whose business it was to fetch\nthem? and though it had cost us something more, yet the difference of\nthat price was by no means worth saving at so great a hazard. But as\nthis is usually the fate of young heads, so reflection upon the folly of\nit is as commonly the exercise of more years, or of the dear-bought\nexperience of time: so it was with me now; and yet so deep had the\nmistake taken root in my temper, that I could not satisfy myself in my\nstation, but was continually poring upon the means and possibility of my\nescape from this place: and that I may, with the greater pleasure to the\nreader, bring on the remaining part of my story, it may not be improper\nto give some account of my first conceptions on the subject of this\nfoolish scheme for my escape, and how, and upon what foundation I acted.\nI am now to be supposed retired into my castle, after my late voyage to\nthe wreck, my frigate laid up and secured under water, as usual, and my\ncondition restored to what it was before; I had more wealth, indeed,\nthan I had before, but was not at all the richer; for I had no more use\nfor it than the Indians of Peru had before the Spaniards came there.\nIt was one of the nights in the rainy season in March, the four and\ntwentieth year of my first setting foot in this island of solitude, I\nwas lying in my bed, or hammock, awake; very well in health, had no\npain, no distemper, no uneasiness of body, nor any uneasiness of mind,\nmore than ordinary, but could by no means close my eyes, that is, so as\nto sleep; no, not a wink all night long, otherwise than as follows:--It\nis impossible to set down the innumerable crowd of thoughts that whirled\nthrough that great thoroughfare of the brain, the memory, in this\nnight's time: I ran over the whole history of my life in miniature, or\nby abridgment, as I may call it, to my coming to this island, and also\nof that part of my life since I came to this island. In my reflections\nupon the state of my case since I came on shore on this island, I was\ncomparing the happy posture of my affairs in the first years of my\nhabitation here, compared to the life of anxiety, fear, and care, which\nI had lived in, ever since I had seen the print of a foot in the sand;\nnot that I did not believe the savages had frequented the island even\nall the while, and might have been several hundreds of them at times on\nshore there; but I had never known it, and was incapable of any\napprehensions about it; my satisfaction was perfect, though my danger\nwas the same, and I was as happy in not knowing my danger as if I had\nnever really been exposed to it. This furnished my thoughts with many\nvery profitable reflections, and particularly this one: How infinitely\ngood that Providence is, which has provided, in its government of\nmankind, such narrow bounds to his sight and knowledge of things; and\nthough he walks in the midst of so many thousand dangers, the sight of\nwhich, if discovered to him, would distract his mind and sink his\nspirits, he is kept serene and calm, by having the events of things hid\nfrom his eyes, and knowing nothing of the dangers which surround him.\nAfter these thoughts had for some time entertained me, I came to reflect\nseriously upon the real danger I had been in for so many years in this\nvery island, and how I had walked about in the greatest security, and\nwith all possible tranquillity, even when perhaps nothing but the brow\nof a hill, a great tree, or the casual approach of night, had been\nbetween me and the worst kind of destruction, viz. that of falling into\nthe hands of cannibals and savages, who would have seized on me with the\nsame view as I would on a goat or a turtle, and have thought it no more\na crime to kill and devour me, than I did of a pigeon or curlew. I would\nunjustly slander myself, if I should say I was not sincerely thankful to\nmy great Preserver, to whose singular protection I acknowledged, with\ngreat humility, all these unknown deliverances were due, and without\nwhich I must inevitably have fallen into their merciless hands.\nWhen these thoughts were over, my head was for some time taken up in\nconsidering the nature of these wretched creatures, I mean the savages,\nand how it came to pass in the world, that the wise Governor of all\nthings should give up any of his creatures to such inhumanity, nay, to\nsomething so much below even brutality itself, as to devour its own\nkind: but as this ended in some (at that time) fruitless speculations,\nit occurred to me to inquire, what part of the world these wretches\nlived in? how far off the coast was, from whence they came? what they\nventured over so far from home for? what kind of boats they had? and why\nI might not order myself and my business so, that I might be as able to\ngo over thither as they were to come to me?\nI never so much as troubled myself to consider what I should do with\nmyself when I went thither; what would become of me, if I fell into the\nhands of the savages; or how I should escape from them, if they attacked\nme; no, nor so much as how it was possible for me to reach the coast,\nand not be attacked by some or other of them, without any possibility of\ndelivering myself; and if I should not fall into their hands, what I\nshould do for provision, or whither I should bend my course: none of\nthese thoughts, I say, so much as came in my way; but my mind was wholly\nbent upon the notion of my passing over in my boat to the main land. I\nlooked upon my present condition as the most miserable that could\npossibly be; that I was not able to throw myself into any thing, but\ndeath, that could be called worse; and if I reached the shore of the\nmain, I might perhaps meet with relief, or I might coast along, as I did\non the African shore, till I came to some inhabited country, and where I\nmight find some relief; and after all, perhaps, I might fall in with\nsome Christian ship that might take me in; and if the worst came to the\nworst, I could but die, which would put an end to all these miseries at\nonce. Pray note, all this was the fruit of a disturbed mind, an\nimpatient temper, made desperate, as it were, by the long continuance of\nmy troubles, and the disappointments I had met in the wreck I had been\non board of, and where I had been so near obtaining what I so earnestly\nlonged for, viz. somebody to speak to, and to learn some knowledge from\nthem of the place where I was, and of the probable means of my\ndeliverance. I was agitated wholly by these thoughts; all my calm of\nmind, in my resignation to Providence, and waiting the issue of the\ndispositions of Heaven, seemed to be suspended; and I had, as it were,\nno power to turn my thoughts to any thing but to the project of a voyage\nto the main; which came upon me with such force, and such an impetuosity\nof desire, that it was not to be resisted.\nWhen this had agitated my thoughts for two hours or more, with such\nviolence that it set my very blood into a ferment, and my pulse beat as\nif I had been in a fever, merely with the extraordinary fervour of my\nmind about it, nature, as if I had been fatigued and exhausted with the\nvery thought of it, threw me into a sound sleep. One would have thought\nI should have dreamed of it, but I did not, nor of any thing relating\nto it: out I dreamed that as I was going out in the morning, as usual,\nfrom my castle, I saw upon the shore two canoes and eleven savages\ncoming to land, and that they brought with them another savage, whom\nthey were going to kill, in order to eat him; when, on a sudden, the\nsavage that they were going to kill jumped away, and ran for his life;\nand I thought, in my sleep, that he came running into my little thick\ngrove before my fortification, to hide himself; and that I, seeing him\nalone, and not perceiving that the others sought him that way, showed\nmyself to him, and smiling upon him, encouraged him: that he kneeled\ndown to me, seeming to pray me to assist him; upon which I showed him my\nladder, made him go up, and carried him into my cave, and he became my\nservant: and that as soon as I had got this man, I said to myself, \"Now\nI may certainly venture to the main land; for this fellow will serve me\nas a pilot, and will tell me what to do, and whither to go for\nprovisions, and whither not to go for fear of being devoured; what\nplaces to venture into, and what to shun.\" I waked with this thought;\nand was under such inexpressible impressions of joy at the prospect of\nmy escape in my dream, that the disappointments which I felt upon coming\nto myself, and finding that it was no more than a dream, were equally\nextravagant the other way, and threw me into a very great dejection\nof spirits.\nUpon this, however, I made this conclusion; that my only way to go about\nto attempt an escape was, if possible, to get a savage into my\npossession; and, if possible, it should be one of their prisoners whom\nthey had condemned to be eaten, and should bring hither to kill. But\nthese thoughts still were attended with this difficulty, that it was\nimpossible to effect this without attacking a whole caravan of them, and\nkilling them all; and this was not only a very desperate attempt, and\nmight miscarry, but, on the other hand, I had greatly scrupled the\nlawfulness of it to myself; and my heart trembled at the thoughts of\nshedding so much blood, though it was for my deliverance. I need not\nrepeat the arguments which occurred to me against this, they being the\nsame mentioned before: but though I had other reasons to offer now, viz.\nthat those men were enemies to my life, and would devour me if they\ncould; that it was self-preservation, in the highest degree, to deliver\nmyself from this death of a life, and was acting in my own defence as\nmuch as if they were actually assaulting me, and the like; I say, though\nthese things argued for it, yet the thoughts of shedding human blood for\nmy deliverance were very terrible to me, and such as I could by no means\nreconcile myself to for a great while. However, at last, after many\nsecret disputes with myself, and after great perplexities about it (for\nall these arguments, one way and another, struggled in my head a long\ntime,) the eager prevailing desire of deliverance at length mastered all\nthe rest; and I resolved, if possible, to get one of those savages into\nmy hands, cost what it would. My next thing was to contrive how to do\nit, and this indeed was very difficult to resolve on: but as I could\npitch upon no probable means for it, so I resolved to put myself upon\nthe watch, to see them when they came on shore, and leave the rest to\nthe event; taking such measures as the opportunity should present, let\nwhat would be.\nWith these resolutions in my thoughts, I set myself upon the scout as\noften as possible, and indeed so often, that I was heartily tired of it;\nfor it was above a year and a half that I waited; and for great part of\nthat time went out to the west end, and to the south-west corner of the\nisland, almost every day, to look for canoes, but none appeared. This\nwas very discouraging, and began to trouble me much; though I cannot say\nthat it did in this case (as it had done some time before) wear off the\nedge of my desire to the thing; but the longer it seemed to be delayed,\nthe more eager I was for it: in a word, I was not at first so careful to\nshun the sight of these savages, and avoid being seen by them, as I was\nnow eager to be upon them. Besides, I fancied myself able to manage one,\nnay, two or three savages, if I had them, so as to make them entirely\nslaves to me, to do whatever I should direct them, and to prevent their\nbeing able at any time to do me any hurt. It was a great while that I\npleased myself with this affair; but nothing still presented; all my\nfancies and schemes came to nothing, for no savages came near me for a\ngreat while.\nAbout a year and a half after I entertained these notions (and by long\nmusing had, as it were, resolved them all into nothing, for want of an\noccasion to put them into execution,) I was surprised, one morning\nearly, with seeing no less than five canoes all on shore together on my\nside the island, and the people who belonged to them all landed, and out\nof my sight. The number of them broke all my measures; for seeing so\nmany, and knowing that they always came four or six, or sometimes more,\nin a boat, I could not tell what to think of it, or how to take my\nmeasures, to attack twenty or thirty men single-handed; so lay still in\nmy castle, perplexed and discomforted: however, I put myself into all\nthe same postures for an attack that I had formerly provided, and was\njust ready for action, if any thing had presented. Having waited a good\nwhile, listening to hear if they made any noise, at length, being very\nimpatient, I set my guns at the foot of my ladder, and clambered up to\nthe top of the hill, by my two stages, as usual; standing so, however,\nthat my head did not appear above the hill, so that they could not\nperceive me by any means. Here I observed, by the help of my\nperspective-glass, that they were no less than thirty in number; that\nthey had a fire kindled, and that they had meat dressed. How they had\ncooked it I knew not, or what it was; but they were all dancing, in I\nknow not how many barbarous gestures and figures, their own way,\nround the fire.\nWhile I was thus looking on them, I perceived, by my perspective, two\nmiserable wretches dragged from the boats, where, it seems, they were\nlaid by, and were now brought out for the slaughter. I perceived one of\nthem immediately fall, being knocked down, I suppose, with a club or\nwooden sword, for that was their way, and two or three others were at\nwork immediately, cutting him open for their cookery, while the other\nvictim was left standing by himself, till they should be ready for him.\nIn that very moment, this poor wretch seeing himself a little at\nliberty, and unbound, nature inspired him with hopes of life, and he\nstarted away from them, and ran with incredible swiftness along the\nsands, directly towards me, I mean towards that part of the coast where\nmy habitation was. I was dreadfully frightened, I must acknowledge, when\nI perceived him run my way, and especially when, as I thought, I saw him\npursued by the whole body: and now I expected that part of my dream was\ncoming to pass, and that he would certainly take shelter in my grove:\nbut I could not depend, by any means, upon my dream for the rest of it,\nviz. that the other savages would not pursue him thither, and find him\nthere. However, I kept my station, and my spirits began to recover, when\nI found that there was not above three men that followed him; and still\nmore was I encouraged when I found that he outstripped them exceedingly\nin running, and gained ground of them; so that if he could but hold it\nfor half an hour, I saw easily he would fairly get away from them all.\nThere was between them and my castle the creek, which I mentioned often\nin the first part of my story, where I landed my cargoes out of the\nship; and this I saw plainly he must necessarily swim over, or the poor\nwretch would be taken there: but when the savage escaping came thither,\nhe made nothing of it, though the tide was then up; but plunging in,\nswam through in about thirty strokes, or thereabouts, landed, and ran on\nwith exceeding strength and swiftness. When the three persons came to\nthe creek, I found that two of them could swim, but the third could\nnot, and that, standing on the other side, he looked at the others, but\nwent no farther, and soon after went softly back again; which, as it\nhappened, was very well for him in the end. I observed, that the two who\nswam were yet more than twice as long swimming over the creek as the\nfellow was that fled from them. It came now very warmly upon my\nthoughts, and indeed irresistibly, that now was the time to get me a\nservant, and perhaps a companion or assistant, and that I was called\nplainly by Providence to save this poor creature's life. I immediately\nran down the ladders with all possible expedition, fetched my two guns,\nfor they were both at the foot of the ladders, as I observed above, and\ngetting up again, with the same haste, to the top of the hill, I crossed\ntowards the sea, and having a very short cut, and all down hill, placed\nmyself in the way between the pursuers and the pursued, hallooing aloud\nto him that fled, who, looking back, was at first, perhaps, as much\nfrightened at me as at them; but I beckoned with my hand to him to come\nback; and, in the mean time, I slowly advanced towards the two that\nfollowed; then rushing at once upon the foremost, I knocked him down\nwith the stock of my piece. I was loth to fire, because I would not have\nthe rest hear; though, at that distance, it would not have been easily\nheard, and being out of sight of the smoke too, they would not have\neasily known what to make of it. Having knocked this fellow down, the\nother who pursued him stopped, as if he had been frightened, and I\nadvanced apace towards him: but as I came nearer, I perceived presently\nhe had a bow and arrow, and was fitting it to shoot at me; so I was\nthen necessitated to shoot at him first, which I did, and killed him at\nthe first shot. The poor savage who fled, but had stopped, though he saw\nboth his enemies fallen and killed, as he thought, yet was so frightened\nwith the fire and noise of my piece, that he stood stock-still, and\nneither came forward nor went backward, though he seemed rather inclined\nstill to fly, than to come on. I hallooed again to him, and made signs\nto come forward, which he easily understood, and came a little way; then\nstopped again, and then a little farther, and stopped again; and I could\nthen perceive that he stood trembling, as if he had been taken prisoner,\nand had just been to be killed, as his two enemies were. I beckoned to\nhim again to come to me, and gave him all the signs of encouragement\nthat I could think of; and he came nearer and nearer, kneeling down\nevery ten or twelve steps, in token of acknowledgment for saving his\nlife. I smiled at him, and looked pleasantly, and beckoned to him to\ncome still nearer: at length he came close to me; and then he kneeled\ndown again, kissed the ground, and laid his head upon the ground, and\ntaking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head; this, it seems, was in\ntoken of swearing to be my slave for ever. I took him up, and made much\nof him, and encouraged him all I could. But there was more work to do\nyet; for I perceived the savage whom I knocked down was not killed, but\nstunned with the blow, and began to come to himself: so I pointed to\nhim, and showed him the savage, that he was not dead; upon this he spoke\nsome words to me, and though I could not understand them, yet I thought\nthey were pleasant to hear; for they were the first sound of a man's\nvoice that I had heard, my own excepted, for above twenty-five years.\nBut there was no time for such reflections now; the savage who was\nknocked down recovered himself so far as to sit up upon the ground, and\nI perceived that my savage began to be afraid; but when I saw that, I\npresented my other piece at the man, as if I would shoot him: upon this\nmy savage, for so I call him now, made a motion to me to lend him my\nsword, which hung naked in a belt by my side, which I did. He no sooner\nhad it, but he runs to his enemy, and, at one blow, cut off his head so\ncleverly, no executioner in Germany could have done it sooner or better;\nwhich I thought very strange for one who, I had reason to believe, never\nsaw a sword in his life before, except their own wooden swords: however,\nit seems, as I learned afterwards, they make their wooden swords so\nsharp, so heavy, and the wood is so hard, that they will cut off heads\neven with them, aye, and arms, and that at one blow too. When he had\ndone this, he comes laughing to me, in sign of triumph, and brought me\nthe sword again, and with abundance of gestures, which I did not\nunderstand, laid it down, with the head of the savage that he had\nkilled, just before me. But that which astonished him most, was to know\nhow I killed the other Indian so far off: so pointing to him, he made\nsigns to me to let him go to him; so I bade him go, as well as I could.\nWhen he came to him, he stood like one amazed, looking at him, turning\nhim first on one side, then on the other, looked at the wound the bullet\nhad made, which, it seems, was just in his breast, where it had made a\nhole, and no great quantity of blood had followed; but he had bled\ninwardly, for he was quite dead. He took up his bow and arrows, and came\nback; so I turned to go away, and beckoned him to follow me, making\nsigns to him that more might come after them. Upon this, he made signs\nto me that he should bury them with sand, that they might not be seen by\nthe rest, if they followed; and so I made signs to him again to do so.\nHe fell to work; and, in an instant, he had scraped a hole in the sand\nwith his hands, big enough to bury the first in, and then dragged him\ninto it, and covered him; and did so by the other also: I believe he had\nburied them both in a quarter of an hour. Then calling him away, I\ncarried him, not to my castle, but quite away to my cave, on the farther\npart of the island: so I did not let my dream come to pass in that part,\nviz. that he came into my grove for shelter. Here I gave him bread and\na bunch of raisins to eat, and a draught of water, which I found he was\nindeed in great distress for, by his running; and having refreshed him,\nI made signs for him to go and lie down to sleep, showing him a place\nwhere I had laid some rice-straw, and a blanket upon it, which I used to\nsleep upon myself sometimes; so the poor creature lay down, and went\nto sleep.\nHe was a comely handsome fellow, perfectly well made, with straight\nstrong limbs, not too large, tall, and well shaped; and, as I reckon,\nabout twenty-six years of age. He had a very good countenance, not a\nfierce and surly aspect, but seemed to have something very manly in his\nface; and yet he had all the sweetness and softness of an European in\nhis countenance too, especially when he smiled. His hair was long and\nblack, not curled like wool; his forehead very high and large; and a\ngreat vivacity and sparkling sharpness in his eyes. The colour of his\nskin was not quite black, but very tawny; and yet not an ugly, yellow,\nnauseous tawny, as the Brazilians and Virginians, and other natives of\nAmerica are, but of a bright kind of a dun olive colour, that had in it\nsomething very agreeable, though not very easy to describe. His face was\nround and plump; his nose small, not flat like the Negroes; a very good\nmouth, thin lips, and his fine teeth well set, and as white as ivory.\nAfter he had slumbered, rather than slept, about half an hour, he awoke\nagain, and came out of the cave to me, for I had been milking my goats,\nwhich I had in the enclosure just by: when he espied me, he came\nrunning to me, laying himself down again upon the ground, with all the\npossible signs of an humble thankful disposition, making a great many\nantic gestures to show it. At last, he lays his head flat upon the\nground, close to my foot, and sets my other foot upon his head, as he\nhad done before; and after this, made all the signs to me of subjection,\nservitude, and submission, imaginable, to let me know how he would serve\nme so long as he lived. I understood him in many things, and let him\nknow I was very well pleased with him. In a little time I began to speak\nto him, and teach him to speak to me; and, first, I let him know his\nname should be FRIDAY, which was the day I saved his life: I called him\nso for the memory of the time. I likewise taught him to say Master; and\nthen let him know that was to be my name: I likewise taught him to say\nYes and No, and to know the meaning of them. I gave him some milk in an\nearthen pot, and let him see me drink it before him, and sop my bread in\nit; and gave him a cake of bread to do the like, which he quickly\ncomplied with, and made signs that it was very good for him. I kept\nthere with him all that night; but as soon as it was day, I beckoned to\nhim to come with me, and let him know I would give him some clothes; at\nwhich he seemed very glad, for he was stark naked. As we went by the\nplace where he had buried the two men, he pointed exactly to the place,\nand showed me the marks that he had made to find them again, making\nsigns to me that we should dig them up again, and eat them. At this I\nappeared very angry, expressed my abhorrence of it, made as if I would\nvomit at the thoughts of it, and beckoned with my hand to him to come\naway; which he did immediately, with great submission. I then led him up\nto the top of the hill, to see if his enemies were gone; and pulling out\nmy glass, I looked, and saw plainly the place where they had been, but\nno appearance of them or their canoes; so that it was plain they were\ngone, and had left their two comrades behind them, without any search\nafter them.\nBut I was not content with this discovery; but having now more courage,\nand consequently more curiosity, I took my man Friday with me, giving\nhim the sword in his hand, with the bow and arrows at his back, which I\nfound he could use very dexterously, making him carry one gun for me,\nand I two for myself; and away we marched to the place where these\ncreatures had been; for I had a mind now to get some fuller intelligence\nof them. When I came to the place, my very blood ran chill in my veins,\nand my heart sunk within me, at the horror of the spectacle; indeed, it\nwas a dreadful sight, at least it was so to me, though Friday made\nnothing of it. The place was covered with human bones, the ground dyed\nwith their blood, and great pieces of flesh left here and there,\nhalf-eaten, mangled, and scorched; and, in short, all the tokens of the\ntriumphant feast they had been making there, after a victory over their\nenemies. I saw three skulls, five hands, and the bones of three or four\nlegs and feet, and abundance of other parts of the bodies; and Friday,\nby his signs, made me understand that they brought over four prisoners\nto feast upon; that three of them were eaten up, and that he, pointing\nto himself, was the fourth; that there had been a great battle between\nthem and their next king, whose subject, it seems, he had been one of,\nand that they had taken a great number of prisoners; all which were\ncarried to several places by those who had taken them in the fight, in\norder to feast upon them, as was done here by these wretches upon those\nthey brought hither.\nI caused Friday to gather all the skulls, bones, flesh, and whatever\nremained, and lay them together in a heap, and make a great fire upon\nit, and burn them all to ashes. I found Friday had still a hankering\nstomach after some of the flesh, and was still a cannibal in his nature;\nbut I discovered so much abhorrence at the very thoughts of it, and at\nthe least appearance of it, that he durst not discover it: for I had, by\nsome means, let him know, that I would kill him if he offered it.\nWhen he had done this, we came back to our castle; and there I fell to\nwork for my man Friday: and, first of all, I gave him a pair of linen\ndrawers, which I had out of the poor gunner's chest I mentioned, which I\nfound in the wreck; and which, with a little alteration, fitted him very\nwell: and then I made him a jerkin of goat's-skin, as well as my skill\nwould allow (for I was now grown a tolerable good tailor;) and I gave\nhim a cap, which I made of hare's-skin, very convenient and fashionable\nenough: and thus he was clothed for the present, tolerably well, and was\nmighty well pleased to see himself almost as well clothed as his master.\nIt is true, he went awkwardly in these clothes at first; wearing the\ndrawers was very awkward to him; and the sleeves of the waistcoat\ngalled his shoulders, and the inside of his arms; but a little easing\nthem where he complained they hurt him, and using himself to them, he\ntook to them at length very well.\nThe next day after I came home to my hutch with him, I began to consider\nwhere I should lodge him; and that I might do well for him, and yet be\nperfectly easy myself, I made a little tent for him in the vacant place\nbetween my two fortifications, in the inside of the last and in the\noutside of the first. As there was a door or entrance there into my\ncave, I made a formal framed door case, and a door to it of boards, and\nset it up in the passage, a little within the entrance; and causing the\ndoor to open in the inside, I barred it up in the night, taking in my\nladders too; so that Friday could no way come at me in the inside of my\ninnermost wall, without making so much noise in getting over that it\nmust needs waken me; for my first wall had now a complete roof over it\nof long poles, covering all my tent, and leaning up to the side of the\nhill; which was again laid across with smaller sticks, instead of laths,\nand then thatched over a great thickness with the rice-straw, which was\nstrong, like reeds; and at the hole or place which was left to go in or\nout by the ladder, I had placed a kind of trap-door, which, if it had\nbeen attempted on the outside, would not have opened at all, but would\nhave fallen down, and make a great noise: as to weapons, I took them all\ninto my side every night. But I needed none of all this precaution; for\nnever man had a more faithful, loving, sincere servant, than Friday was\nto me; without passions, sullenness, or designs, perfectly obliged and\nengaged; his very affections were tied to me, like those of a child to a\nfather; and I dare say, he would have sacrificed his life for the saving\nmine, upon any occasion whatsoever: the many testimonies he gave me of\nthis put it out of doubt, and soon convinced me that I needed to use no\nprecautions, as to my safety on his account.\nThis frequently gave me occasion to observe, and that with wonder, that\nhowever it had pleased God, in his providence, and in the government of\nthe works of his hands, to take from so great a part of the world of his\ncreatures the best uses to which their faculties and the powers of their\nsouls are adapted, yet that he has bestowed upon them the same powers,\nthe same reason, the same affections, the same sentiments of kindness\nand obligation, the same passions and resentments of wrongs, the same\nsense of gratitude, sincerity, fidelity, and all the capacities of doing\ngood, and receiving good, that he has given to us; and that when he\npleases to offer them occasions of exerting these, they are as ready,\nnay, more ready, to apply them to the right uses for which they were\nbestowed, than we are. This made me very melancholy sometimes, in\nreflecting, as the several occasions presented, how mean a use we make\nof all these, even though we have these powers enlightened by the great\nlamp of instruction, the Spirit of God, and by the knowledge of his word\nadded to our understanding; and why it has pleased God to hide the like\nsaving knowledge from so many millions of souls, who, if I might judge\nby this poor savage, would make a much better use of it than we did.\nFrom hence, I sometimes was led too far, to invade the sovereignty of\nProvidence, and as it were arraign the justice of so arbitrary a\ndisposition of things, that should hide that light from some, and reveal\nit to others, and yet expect a like duty from both; but I shut it up,\nand checked my thoughts with this conclusion: first, That we did not\nknow by what light and law these should be condemned; but that as God\nwas necessarily, and, by the nature of his being, infinitely holy and\njust, so it could not be, but if these creatures were all sentenced to\nabsence from himself, it was on account of sinning against that light,\nwhich, as the Scripture says, was a law to themselves, and by such rules\nas their consciences would acknowledge to be just, though the foundation\nwas not discovered to us; and, secondly, That still, as we all are the\nclay in the hand of the potter, no vessel could say to him, \"Why hast\nthou formed me thus?\"\nBut to return to my new companion:--I was greatly delighted with him,\nand made it my business to teach him every thing that was proper to make\nhim useful, handy, and helpful; but especially to make him speak, and\nunderstand me when I spoke: and he was the aptest scholar that ever was;\nand particularly was so merry, so constantly diligent, and so pleased\nwhen he could but understand me, or make me understand him, that it was\nvery pleasant to me to talk to him. Now my life began to be so easy,\nthat I began to say to myself, that could I but have been safe from more\nsavages, I cared not if I was never to remove from the place where\nI lived.\nAfter I had been two or three days returned to my castle, I thought\nthat, in order to bring Friday off from his horrid way of feeding, and\nfrom the relish of a cannibal's stomach, I ought to let him taste other\nflesh; so I took him out with me one morning to the woods. I went,\nindeed, intending to kill a kid out of my own flock, and bring it home\nand dress it; but as I was going, I saw a she-goat lying down in the\nshade, and two young kids sitting by her. I catched hold of\nFriday;--Hold, said I; stand still; and made signs to him not to stir:\nimmediately I presented my piece, shot, and killed one of the kids. The\npoor creature, who had, at a distance, indeed, seen me kill the savage,\nhis enemy, but did not know, nor could imagine, how it was done, was\nsensibly surprised, trembled and shook, and looked so amazed, that I\nthought he would have sunk down. He did not see the kid I shot at, or\nperceive I had killed it, but ripped up his waistcoat, to feel whether\nhe was not wounded; and, as I found presently, thought I was resolved to\nkill him: for he came and kneeled down to me, and embracing my knees,\nsaid a great many things I did not understand; but I could easily see\nthe meaning was, to pray me not to kill him.\nI soon found a way to convince him that I would do him no harm; and\ntaking him up by the hand, laughed at him, and pointing to the kid which\nI had killed, beckoned to him to run and fetch it, which he did: and\nwhile he was wondering, and looking to see how the creature was killed,\nI loaded my gun again. By and by, I saw a great fowl, like a hawk,\nsitting upon a tree, within shot; so, to let Friday understand a little\nwhat I would do, I called him to me again, pointed at the fowl, which\nwas indeed a parrot, though I thought it had been a hawk; I say,\npointing to the parrot, and to my gun, and to the ground under the\nparrot, to let him see I would make it fall, I made him understand that\nI would shoot and kill that bird; accordingly, I fired, and bade him\nlook, and immediately he saw the parrot fall. He stood like one\nfrightened again, notwithstanding all I had said to him; and I found he\nwas the more amazed, because he did not see me put any thing into the\ngun, but thought that there must be some wonderful fund of death and\ndestruction in that thing, able to kill man, beast, bird, or any thing\nnear or far off; and the astonishment this created in him was such, as\ncould not wear off for a long time; and I believe, if I would have let\nhim, he would have worshipped me and my gun. As for the gun itself, he\nwould not so much as touch it for several days after; but he would speak\nto it, and talk to it, as if it had answered him, when he was by\nhimself; which, as I afterwards learned of him, was to desire it not to\nkill him. Well, after his astonishment was a little over at this, I\npointed to him to run and fetch the bird I had shot, which he did, but\nstaid some time; for the parrot, not being quite dead, had fluttered\naway a good distance from the place where she fell: however, he found\nher, took her up, and brought her to me; and as I had perceived his\nignorance about the gun before, I took this advantage to charge the gun\nagain, and not to let him see me do it, that I might be ready for any\nother mark that might present; but nothing more offered at that time: so\nI brought home the kid, and the same evening I took the skin off, and\ncut it out as well as I could; and having a pot fit for that purpose, I\nboiled or stewed some of the flesh, and made some very good broth. After\nI had begun to eat some, I gave some to my man, who seemed very glad of\nit, and liked it very well; but that which was strangest to him, was to\nsee me eat salt with it. He made a sign to me that the salt was not good\nto eat; and putting a little into his own mouth, he seemed to nauseate\nit, and would spit and sputter at it, washing his mouth with fresh water\nafter it: on the other hand, I took some meat into my mouth without\nsalt, and I pretended to spit and sputter for want of salt, as fast as\nhe had done at the salt; but it would not do; he would never care for\nsalt with his meat or in his broth; at least, not for a great while, and\nthen but a very little.\nHaving thus fed him with boiled meat and broth, I was resolved to feast\nhim the next day with roasting a piece of the kid: this I did, by\nhanging it before the fire on a string, as I had seen many people do in\nEngland, setting two poles up, one on each side of the fire, and one\nacross on the top, and tying the string to the cross stick, letting the\nmeat turn continually. This Friday admired very much; but when he came\nto taste the flesh, he took so many ways to tell me how well he liked\nit, that I could not but understand him: and at last he told me, as well\nas he could, he would never eat man's flesh any more, which I was very\nglad to hear.\nThe next day, I set him to work to beating some corn out, and sifting it\nin the manner I used to do, as I observed before; and he soon understood\nhow to do it as well as I, especially after he had seen what the\nmeaning of it was, and that it was to make bread of; for after that I\nlet him see me make my bread, and bake it too; and in a little time\nFriday was able to do all the work for me, as well as I could do\nit myself.\nI began now to consider, that having two mouths to feed instead of one,\nI must provide more ground for my harvest, and plant a larger quantity\nof corn than I used to do; so I marked out a larger piece of land, and\nbegan the fence in the same manner as before, in which Friday worked not\nonly very willingly and very hard, but did it very cheerfully: and I\ntold him what it was for; that it was for corn to make more bread,\nbecause he was now with me, and that I might have enough for him and\nmyself too. He appeared very sensible of that part, and let me know that\nhe thought I had much more labour upon me on his account, than I had for\nmyself; and that he would work the harder for me, if I would tell him\nwhat to do.\nThis was the pleasantest year of all the life I led in this place;\nFriday began to talk pretty well, and understand the names of almost\nevery thing I had occasion to call for, and of every place I had to send\nhim to, and talked a great deal to me; so that, in short, I began now to\nhave some use for my tongue again, which, indeed, I had very little\noccasion for before, that is to say, about speech. Besides the pleasure\nof talking to him, I had a singular satisfaction in the fellow himself:\nhis simple unfeigned honesty appeared to me more and more every day, and\nI began really to love the creature; and, on his side, I believe he\nloved me more than it was possible for him ever to love any\nthing before.\nI had a mind once to try if he had any hankering inclination to his own\ncountry again; and having taught him English so well that he could\nanswer me almost any question, I asked him whether the nation that he\nbelonged to never conquered in battle? At which he smiled, and said,\n\"Yes, yes, we always fight the better:\" that is, he meant, always get\nthe better in fight; and so we began the following discourse:\n_Master_. You always fight the better; how came you to be taken prisoner\nthen, Friday?\n_Friday_. My nation beat much for all that.\n_Master_. How beat? If your nation beat them, how came you to be taken?\n_Friday_. They more many than my nation in the place where me was; they\ntake one, two, three, and me: my nation over-beat them in the yonder\nplace, where me no was; there my nation take one, two, great thousand.\n_Master_. But why did not your side recover you from the hands of your\nenemies then?\n_Friday_. They run one, two, three, and me, and make go in the canoe; my\nnation have no canoe that time.\n_Master_. Well, Friday, and what does your nation do with the men they\ntake? Do they carry them away and eat them, as these did?\n_Friday_. Yes, my nation eat mans too; eat all up.\n_Master_. Where do they carry them?\n_Friday_. Go to other place, where they think.\n_Master_. Do they come hither?\n_Friday_. Yes, yes, they come hither; come other else place.\n_Master_. Have you been here with them?\n_Friday_. Yes, I have been here (points to the N.W. side of the island,\nwhich, it seems, was their side.)\nBy this I understood that my man Friday had formerly been among the\nsavages who used to come on shore on the farther part of the island, on\nthe same man-eating occasions he was now brought for; and, some time\nafter, when I took the courage to carry him to that side, being the same\nI formerly mentioned, he presently knew the place, and told me he was\nthere once when they eat up twenty men, two women, and one child: he\ncould not tell twenty in English, but he numbered them, by laying so\nmany stones in a row, and pointing to me to tell them over.\nI have told this passage, because it introduces what follows; that after\nI had this discourse with him, I asked him how far it was from our\nisland to the shore, and whether the canoes were not often lost. He told\nme there was no danger, no canoes ever lost; but that, after a little\nway out to sea, there was a current and wind, always one way in the\nmorning, the other in the afternoon. This I understood to be no more\nthan the sets of the tide, as going out or coming in; but I afterwards\nunderstood it was occasioned by the great draft and reflux of the mighty\nriver Oroonoko, in the mouth or gulf of which river, as I found\nafterwards, our island lay; and that this land which I perceived to the\nW. and N.W. was the great island Trinidad, on the north point of the\nmouth of the river. I asked Friday a thousand questions about the\ncountry, the inhabitants, the sea, the coast, and what nations were\nnear: he told me all he knew, with the greatest openness imaginable. I\nasked him the names of the several nations of his sort of people, but\ncould get no other name than Caribs: from whence I easily understood,\nthat these were the Caribbees, which our maps place on the part of\nAmerica which reaches from the mouth of the river Oroonoko to Guiana,\nand onwards to St. Martha. He told me that up a great way beyond the\nmoon, that was, beyond the setting of the moon, which must be west from\ntheir country, there dwelt white bearded men, like me, and pointed to my\ngreat whiskers, which I mentioned before; and that they had killed much\nmans, that was his word: by all which I understood, he meant the\nSpaniards, whose cruelties in America had been spread over the whole\ncountry, and were remembered by all the nations, from father to son.\nI inquired if he could tell me how I might go from this island and get\namong those white men; he told me, Yes, yes, you may go in two canoe. I\ncould not understand what he meant, or make him describe to me what he\nmeant by two canoe; till, at last, with great difficulty, I found he\nmeant it must be in a large boat, as big as two canoes. This part of\nFriday's discourse began to relish with me very well; and from this time\nI entertained some hopes that, one time or other, I might find an\nopportunity to make my escape from this place, and that this poor savage\nmight be a means to help me.\nDuring the long time that Friday had now been with me, and that he began\nto speak to me, and understand me, I was not wanting to lay a foundation\nof religious knowledge in his mind: particularly I asked him one time,\nWho made him? The poor creature did not understand me at all, but\nthought I had asked him who was his father: but I took it up by another\nhandle, and asked him who made the sea, the ground we walked on, and the\nhills and woods? He told me, it was one old Benamuckee, that lived\nbeyond all; he could describe nothing of this great person, but that he\nwas very old, much older, he said, than the sea or the land, than the\nmoon or the stars. I asked him then, if this old person had made all\nthings, why did not all things worship him? He looked very grave, and\nwith a perfect look of innocence said, All things say O to him. I asked\nhim if the people who die in his country went away any where? He said,\nYes; they all went to Benamuckee: then I asked him whether these they\neat up went thither too? He said, Yes.\nFrom these things I began to instruct him in the knowledge of the true\nGod: I told him that the great Maker of all things lived up there,\npointing up towards heaven; that he governed the world by the same power\nand providence by which he made it; that he was omnipotent, and could do\nevery thing for us, give every thing to us, take every thing from us;\nand thus, by degrees, I opened his eyes. He listened with great\nattention, and received with pleasure the notion of Jesus Christ being\nsent to redeem us, and of the manner of making our prayers to God, and\nhis being able to hear us, even in heaven. He told me one day, that if\nour God could hear us up beyond the sun, he must needs be a greater God\nthan their Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off, and yet could not\nhear till they went up to the great mountains where he dwelt to speak to\nhim. I asked him if ever he went thither to speak to him? He said, No;\nthey never went that were young men; none went thither but the old men,\nwhom he called their Oowokakee; that is, as I made him explain it to me,\ntheir religious, or clergy; and that they went to say O (so he called\nsaying prayers,) and then came back, and told them what Benamuckee said.\nBy this I observed, that there is priestcraft even among the most\nblinded, ignorant pagans in the world; and the policy of making a secret\nof religion, in order to preserve the veneration of the people to the\nclergy, is not only to be found in the Roman, but perhaps among all\nreligions in the world, even among the most brutish and\nbarbarous savages.\nI endeavoured to clear up this fraud to my man Friday; and told him,\nthat the pretence of their old men going up to the mountains to say O to\ntheir god Benamuckee was a cheat; and their bringing word from thence\nwhat he said was much more so; that if they met with any answer, or\nspake with any one there, it must be with an evil spirit: and then I\nentered into a long discourse with him about the devil, the original of\nhim, his rebellion against God, his enmity to man, the reason of it, his\nsetting himself up in the dark parts of the world to be worshipped\ninstead of God, and as God, and the many stratagems he made use of to\ndelude mankind to their ruin; how he had a secret access to our\npassions and to our affections, and to adapt his snares to our\ninclinations, so as to cause us even to be our own tempters, and run\nupon our destruction by our own choice.\nI found it was not so easy to imprint right notions in his mind about\nthe devil, as it was about the being of a God: nature assisted all my\narguments to evidence to him even the necessity of a great First Cause,\nand over-ruling, governing Power, a secret, directing Providence, and of\nthe equity and justice of paying homage to him that made us, and the\nlike; but there appeared nothing of this kind in the notion of an evil\nspirit; of his original, his being, his nature, and, above all, of his\ninclination to do evil, and to draw us in to do so too: and the poor\ncreature puzzled me once in such a manner, by a question merely natural\nand innocent, that I scarce knew what to say to him. I had been talking\na great deal to him of the power of God, his omnipotence, his aversion\nto sin, his being a consuming fire to the workers of iniquity; how, as\nhe had made us all, he could destroy us and all the world in a moment;\nand he listened with great seriousness to me all the while. After this,\nI had been telling him how the devil was God's enemy in the hearts of\nmen, and used all his malice and skill to defeat the good designs of\nProvidence, and to ruin the kingdom of Christ in the world, and the\nlike. \"Well,\" says Friday, \"but you say God is so strong, so great; is\nhe not much strong, much might as the devil?\"--\"Yes, yes,\" says I,\n\"Friday, God is stronger than the devil: God is above the devil, and\ntherefore we pray to God to tread him down under our feet, and enable us\nto resist his temptations, and quench his fiery darts.\"--\"But,\" says he\nagain, \"if God much stronger, much might as the devil, why God no kill\nthe devil, so make him no more do wicked?\" I was strangely surprised at\nthis question; and, after all, though I was now an old man, yet I was\nbut a young doctor, and ill qualified for a casuist, or a solver of\ndifficulties; and, at first, I could not tell what to say; so I\npretended not to hear him, and asked him what he said; but he was too\nearnest for an answer, to forget his question, so that he repeated it in\nthe very same broken words as above. By this time I had recovered myself\na little, and I said, \"God will at last punish him severely; he is\nreserved for the judgment, and is to be cast into the bottomless pit, to\ndwell with everlasting fire.\" This did not satisfy Friday; but he\nreturns upon me, repeating my words, \"_Reserve at last_! me no\nunderstand: but why not kill the devil now; not kill great ago?\"--\"You\nmay as well ask me,\" said I, \"why God does not kill you and me, when we\ndo wicked things here that offend him: we are preserved to repent and be\npardoned.\" He mused some time on this: \"Well, well,\" says he, mighty\naffectionately, \"that well: so you, I, devil, all wicked, all preserve,\nrepent, God pardon all.\" Here I was run down again by him to the last\ndegree; and it was a testimony to me, how the mere notions of nature,\nthough they will guide reasonable creatures to the knowledge of a God,\nand of a worship or homage due to the supreme being of God, as the\nconsequence of our nature, yet nothing but divine revelation can form\nthe knowledge of Jesus Christ, and of redemption purchased for us, of a\nMediator of the new covenant, and of an Intercessor at the footstool of\nGod's throne; I say, nothing but a revelation from Heaven can form these\nin the soul; and that, therefore, the gospel of our Lord and Saviour\nJesus Christ, I mean the Word of God, and the Spirit of God, promised\nfor the guide and sanctifier of his people, are the absolutely necessary\ninstructors of the souls of men in the saving knowledge of God, and the\nmeans of salvation.\nI therefore diverted the present discourse between me and my man, rising\nup hastily, as upon some sudden occasion of going out; then sending him\nfor something a good way off, I seriously prayed to God that he would\nenable me to instruct savingly this poor savage; assisting, by his\nSpirit, the heart of the poor ignorant creature to receive the light of\nthe knowledge of God in Christ, reconciling him to himself, and would\nguide me to speak so to him from the word of God, as his conscience\nmight be convinced, his eyes opened, and his soul saved. When he came\nagain to me, I entered into a long discourse with him upon the subject\nof the redemption of man by the Saviour of the world, and of the\ndoctrine of the gospel preached from heaven, viz. of repentance towards\nGod, and faith in our blessed Lord Jesus. I then explained to him as\nwell as I could; why our blessed Redeemer took not on him the nature of\nangels, but the seed of Abraham; and how, for that reason, the fallen\nangels had no share in the redemption; that he came only to the lost\nsheep of the house of Israel, and the like.\nI had, God knows, more sincerity than knowledge in all the methods I\ntook for this poor creature's instruction, and must acknowledge, what I\nbelieve all that act upon the same principle will find, that in laying\nthings open to him, I really informed and instructed myself in many\nthings that either I did not know, or had not fully considered before,\nbut which occurred naturally to my mind upon searching into them, for\nthe information of this poor savage; and I had more affection in my\ninquiry after things upon this occasion than ever I felt before: so\nthat, whether this poor wild wretch was the better for me or no, I had\ngreat reason to be thankful that ever he came to me; my grief sat\nlighter upon me; my habitation grew comfortable to me beyond measure:\nand when I reflected, that in this solitary life which I had been\nconfined to, I had not only been moved to look up to heaven myself, and\nto seek to the hand that had brought me here, but was now to be made an\ninstrument, under Providence, to save the life, and, for aught I knew,\nthe soul, of a poor savage, and bring him to the true knowledge of\nreligion, and of the Christian doctrine, that he might know Christ\nJesus, in whom is life eternal; I say, when I reflected upon all these\nthings, a secret joy ran through every part of my soul, and I frequently\nrejoiced that ever I was brought to this place, which I had so often\nthought the most dreadful of all afflictions that could possibly have\nbefallen me.\nI continued in this thankful frame all the remainder of my time; and the\nconversation which employed the hours between Friday and me was such,\nas made the three years which we lived there together perfectly and\ncompletely happy, if any such thing as complete happiness can he formed\nin a sublunary state. This savage was now a good Christian, a much\nbetter than I; though I have reason to hope, and bless God for it, that\nwe were equally penitent, and comforted, restored penitents. We had here\nthe word of God to read, and no farther off from his Spirit to instruct,\nthan if we had been in England. I always applied myself, in reading the\nScriptures, to let him know, as well as I could, the meaning of what I\nread; and he again, by his serious inquiries and questionings, made me,\nas I said before, a much better scholar in the Scripture-knowledge than\nI should ever have been by my own mere private reading. Another thing I\ncannot refrain from observing here also, from experience in this retired\npart of my life, viz. how infinite and inexpressible a blessing it is\nthat the knowledge of God; and of the doctrine of salvation by Christ\nJesus, is so plainly laid down in the word of God, so easy to be\nreceived and understood, that, as the bare reading the Scripture made me\ncapable of understanding enough of my duty to carry me directly on to\nthe great work of sincere repentance for my sins, and laying hold of a\nSaviour for life and salvation, to a stated reformation in practice, and\nobedience to all God's commands, and this without any teacher or\ninstructor, I mean human; so the same plain instruction sufficiently\nserved to the enlightening this savage creature, and bringing him to be\nsuch a Christian, as I have known few equal to him in my life.\nAs to all the disputes, wrangling, strife, and contention which have\nhappened in the world about religion, whether niceties in doctrines, or\nschemes of church-government, they were all perfectly useless to us,\nand, for aught I can yet see, they have been so to the rest of the\nworld. We had the sure guide to heaven, viz. the word of God; and we\nhad, blessed be God, comfortable views of the Spirit of God teaching and\ninstructing us by his word, leading us into all truth, and making us\nboth willing and obedient to the instruction of his word. And I cannot\nsee the least use that the greatest knowledge of the disputed points of\nreligion, which have made such confusions in the world, would have been\nto us, if we could have obtained it.--But I must go on with the\nhistorical part of things, and take every part in its order.\nAfter Friday and I became more intimately acquainted, and that he could\nunderstand almost all I said to him, and speak pretty fluently, though\nin broken English, to me, I acquainted him with my own history, or at\nleast so much of it as related to my coming to this place; how I had\nlived here, and how long: I let him into the mystery, for such it was to\nhim, of gunpowder and bullet, and taught him how to shoot. I gave him a\nknife; which he was wonderfully delighted with; and I made him a belt,\nwith a frog hanging to it, such as in England we wear hangers in; and in\nthe frog, instead of a hanger, I gave him a hatchet, which was not only\nas good a weapon, in some cases, but much more useful upon other\noccasions.\nI described to him the country of Europe, particularly England, which I\ncame from; how we lived, how we worshipped God, how we behaved to one\nanother, and how we traded in ships to all parts of the world. I gave\nhim an account of the wreck which I had been on board of, and showed\nhim, as near as I could, the place where she lay; but she was all beaten\nin pieces before, and gone. I showed him the ruins of our boat, which we\nlost when we escaped, and which I could not stir with my whole strength\nthen; but was now fallen almost all to pieces. Upon seeing this boat,\nFriday stood musing a great while, and said nothing. I asked him what it\nwas he studied upon? At last, says he, \"Me see such boat like come to\nplace at my nation.\" I did not understand him a good while; but, at\nlast, when I had examined farther into it, I understood by him, that a\nboat, such as that had been, came on shore upon the country where he\nlived; that is, as he explained it, was driven thither by stress of\nweather. I presently imagined that some European ship must have been\ncast away upon their coast, and the boat might get loose, and drive\nashore; but was so dull, that I never once thought of men making their\nescape from a wreck thither, much less whence they might come: so I only\ninquired after a description of the boat.\nFriday described the boat to me well enough; but brought me better to\nunderstand him when he added with some warmth, \"We save the white mans\nfrom drown.\" Then I presently asked him, if there were any white mans,\nas he called them, in the boat? \"Yes,\" he said; \"the boat full of white\nmans.\" I asked him how many? He told upon his fingers seventeen, I\nasked him then what became of them? He told me, \"They live, they dwell\nat my nation.\"\nThis put new thoughts into my head; for I presently imagined that these\nmight be the men belonging to the ship that was cast away in the sight\nof my island, as I now called it; and who, after the ship was struck on\nthe rock, and they saw her inevitably lost, had saved themselves in\ntheir boat, and were landed upon that wild shore among the savages. Upon\nthis, I inquired of him more critically what was become of them; he\nassured me they lived still there; that they had been there about four\nyears; that the savages let them alone, and gave them victuals to live\non. I asked him how it came to pass they did not kill them, and eat\nthem? He said, \"No, they make brother with them;\" that is, as I\nunderstood him, a truce; and then he added, \"They no eat mans but when\nmake the war fight;\" that is to say, they never eat any men but such as\ncome to fight with them, and are taken in battle.\nIt was after this some considerable time, that being upon the top of the\nhill, at the east side of the island, from whence, as I have said, I\nhad, in a clear day, discovered the main or continent of America,\nFriday, the weather being very serene, looks very earnestly towards the\nmain land, and, in a kind of surprise, fells a jumping and dancing, and\ncalls out to me, for I was at some distance from him. I asked him what\nwas the matter? \"O joy!\" says he; \"O glad! there see my country, there\nmy nation!\" I observed an extraordinary sense of pleasure appeared in\nhis face, and his eyes sparkled, and his countenance discovered a\nstrange eagerness, as if he had a mind to be in his own country again.\nThis observation of mine put a great many thoughts into me, which made\nme at first not so easy about my new man Friday as I was before; and I\nmade no doubt but that if Friday could get back to his own nation again,\nhe would not only forget all his religion, but all his obligation to me,\nand would be forward enough to give his countrymen an account of me, and\ncome back perhaps with a hundred or two of them, and make a feast upon\nme, at which he might be as merry as he used to be with those of his\nenemies, when they were taken in war. But I wronged the poor honest\ncreature very much, for which I was very sorry afterwards. However, as\nmy jealousy increased, and held me some weeks, I was a little more\ncircumspect, and not so familiar and kind to him as before: in which I\nwas certainly in the wrong too; the honest, grateful creature, having no\nthought about it, but what consisted with the best principles, both as a\nreligious Christian, and as a grateful friend; as appeared afterwards,\nto my full satisfaction.\nWhile my jealousy of him lasted, you may be sure I was every day pumping\nhim, to see if he would discover any of the new thoughts which I\nsuspected were in him: but I found every thing he said was so honest and\nso innocent, that I could find nothing to nourish my suspicion; and, in\nspite of all my uneasiness, he made me at last entirely his own again;\nnor did he, in the least, perceive that I was uneasy, and therefore I\ncould not suspect him of deceit.\nOne day, walking up the same hill, but the weather being hazy at sea, so\nthat we could not see the continent, I called to him, and said, \"Friday,\ndo not you wish yourself in your own country, your own nation?\"--\"Yes,\"\nhe said, \"I be much O glad to be at my own nation.\" \"What would you do\nthere?\" said I: \"would you turn wild again, eat men's flesh again, and\nbe a savage as you were before?\" He looked full of concern, and shaking\nhis head, said, \"No, no, Friday tell them to live good; tell them to\npray God; tell them to eat corn-bread, cattle-flesh, milk; no eat man\nagain.\"--\"Why then,\" said I to him, \"they will kill you.\" He looked\ngrave at that, and then said, \"No, no; they no kill me, they willing\nlove learn.\" He meant by this, they would be willing to learn. He added,\nthey learned much of the bearded mans that came in the boat. Then I\nasked him if he would go back to them. He smiled at that, and told me\nthat he could not swim so far. I told him, I would make a canoe for him.\nHe told me he would go, if I would go with him. \"I go!\" says I, \"why,\nthey will eat me if I come there.\"--\"No, no,\" says he, \"me make they no\neat you; me make they much love you,\" He meant, he would tell them how I\nhad killed his enemies, and saved his life, and so he would make them\nlove me. Then he told me, as well as he could, how kind they were to\nseventeen white men, or bearded men, as he called them, who came on\nshore there in distress.\nFrom this time, I confess I had a mind to venture over, and see if I\ncould possibly join with those bearded men, who, I made no doubt, were\nSpaniards and Portuguese: not doubting but if I could, we might find\nsome method to escape from thence, being upon the continent, and a good\ncompany together, better than I could from an island forty miles off the\nshore, and alone, without help. So, after some days, I took Friday to\nwork again, by way of discourse; and told him I would give him a boat to\ngo back to his own nation; and accordingly I carried him to my frigate,\nwhich lay on the other side of the island, and having cleared it of\nwater (for I always kept it sunk in water,) I brought it out, showed it\nhim, and we both went into it. I found he was a most dexterous fellow at\nmanaging it, and would make it go almost as swift again as I could. So\nwhen he was in, I said to him, \"Well, now, Friday, shall we go to your\nnation?\" He looked very dull at my saying so; which, it seems, was\nbecause he thought the boat too small to go so far: I then told him I\nhad a bigger; so the next day I went to the place where the first boat\nlay which I had made, but which I could not get into the water. He said\nthat was big enough: but then, as I had taken no care of it, and it had\nlain two or three and twenty years there, the sun had split and dried\nit, that, it was in a manner rotten. Friday told me such a boat would do\nvery well, and would carry \"much enough vittle, drink, bread;\" that was\nhis way of talking.\nUpon the whole, I was by this time so fixed upon my design of going over\nwith him to the continent, that I told him we would go and make one as\nbig as that, and he should go home in it. He answered not one word, but\nlooked very grave and sad. I asked him what was the matter with him? He\nasked me again, \"Why you angry mad with Friday? what me done?\" I asked\nhim what he meant: I told him I was not angry with him at all. \"No\nangry!\" says he, repeating the words several times, \"why send Friday\nhome away to my nation?\"--\"Why,\" says I, \"Friday, did not you say you\nwished you were there?\"--\"Yes, yes,\" says he, \"wish be both there; no\nwish Friday there, no master there.\" In a word, he would not think of\ngoing there without me. \"I go there, Friday!\" says I, \"what shall I do\nthere?\" He returned very quick upon me at this: \"You do great deal much\ngood,\" says he; \"you teach wild mans be good, sober, tame mans; you tell\nthem know God, pray God, and live new life.\"--\"Alas! Friday,\" says I,\n\"thou knowest not what thou sayest; I am but an ignorant man\nmyself.\"--\"Yes, yes,\" says he, \"you teachee me good, you teachee them\ngood.\"--\"No, no, Friday,\" says I, \"you shall go without me; leave me\nhere to live by myself, as I did before.\" He looked confused again at\nthat word; and running to one of the hatchets which he used to wear, he\ntakes it up hastily, and gives it to me. \"What must I do with this?\"\nsays I to him. \"You take kill Friday,\" says he. \"What must I kill you\nfor?\" said I again. He returns very quick, \"What you send Friday away\nfor? Take kill Friday, no send Friday away.\" This he spoke so earnestly,\nthat I saw tears stand in his eyes: in a word, I so plainly discovered\nthe utmost affection in him to me, and a firm resolution in him, that I\ntold him then, and often after, that I would never send him away from\nme, if he was willing to stay with me.\nUpon the whole, as I found, by all his discourse, a settled affection to\nme, and that nothing should part him from me, so I found all the\nfoundation of his desire to go to his own country was laid in his ardent\naffection to the people, and his hopes of my doing them good; a thing,\nwhich, as I had no notion of myself, so I had not the least thought, or\nintention, or desire of undertaking it. But still I found a strong\ninclination to my attempting an escape, as above, founded on the\nsupposition gathered from the discourse, viz. that there were seventeen\nbearded men there: and, therefore, without any more delay, I went to\nwork with Friday, to find out a great tree proper to fell, and make a\nlarge periagua, or canoe, to undertake the voyage. There were trees\nenough in the island to have built a little fleet, not of periaguas, or\ncanoes, but even of good large vessels: but the main thing I looked at\nwas, to get one so near the water that we might launch it when it was\nmade, to avoid the mistake I committed at first. At last, Friday pitched\nupon a tree; for I found he knew much better than I what kind of wood\nwas fittest for it; nor can I tell, to this day, what wood to call the\ntree we cut down, except that it was very like the tree we call fustic,\nor between that and the Nicaragua wood, for it was much of the same\ncolour and smell. Friday was for burning the hollow or cavity of this\ntree out, to make it for a boat, but I showed him how to cut it with\ntools; which, after I had showed him how to use, he did very handily:\nand in about a month's hard labour we finished it, and made it very\nhandsome; especially when, with our axes, which I showed him how to\nhandle, we cut and hewed the outside into the true shape of a boat.\nAfter this, however, it cost us near a fortnight's time to get her\nalong, as it were inch by inch, upon great rollers into the water; but\nwhen she was in, she would have carried twenty men with great ease.\nWhen she was in the water, and though she was so big, it amazed me to\nsee with what dexterity, and how swift my man Friday would manage her,\nturn her, and paddle her along. So I asked him if he would, and if we\nmight venture over in her. \"Yes,\" he said, \"we venture over in her very\nwell, though great blow wind.\" However, I had a farther design that he\nknew nothing of, and that was to make a mast and a sail, and to fit her\nwith an anchor and cable. As to a mast, that was easy enough to get; so\nI pitched upon a straight young cedar tree, which I found near the\nplace, and which there were great plenty of in the island: and I set\nFriday to work to cut it down, and gave him directions how to shape and\norder it. But as to the sail, that was my particular care. I knew I had\nold sails, or rather pieces of old sails enough; but as I had had them\nnow six and twenty years by me, and had not been very careful to\npreserve them, not imagining that I should ever have this kind of use\nfor them, I did not doubt but they were all rotten, and, indeed, most of\nthem were so. However, I found two pieces, which appeared pretty good,\nand with these I went to work; and with a great deal of pains, and\nawkward stitching, you may be sure, for want of needles, I, at length,\nmade a three-cornered ugly thing, like what we call in England a\nshoulder of mutton sail, to go with a boom at bottom, and a little short\nsprit at the top, such as usually our ships' long-boats sail with, and\nsuch as I best knew how to manage, as it was such a one I had to the\nboat in which I made my escape from Barbary, as related in the first\npart of my story.\nI was near two months performing this last work, viz. rigging and\nfitting my mast and sails; for I finished them very complete, making a\nsmall stay, and a sail, or fore-sail, to it, to assist, if we should\nturn to windward; and, which was more than all, I fixed a rudder to the\nstern of her to steer with. I was but a bungling shipwright, yet, as I\nknew the usefulness, and even necessity of such a thing, I applied\nmyself with so much pains to do it, that at last I brought it to pass;\nthough, considering the many dull contrivances I had for it that failed,\nI think it cost me almost as much labour as making the boat.\nAfter all this was done, I had my man Friday to teach as to what\nbelonged to the navigation of my boat; for, though he knew very well how\nto paddle a canoe, he knew nothing what belonged to a sail and a rudder;\nand was the most amazed when he saw me work the boat to and again in the\nsea by the rudder, and how the sail gibbed, and filled this way, or that\nway, as the course we sailed changed; I say, when he saw this, he stood\nlike one astonished and amazed. However, with a little use, I made all\nthese things familiar to him, and he became an expert sailor, except\nthat as to the compass; I could make him understand very little of that.\nOn the other hand, as there was very little cloudy weather, and seldom\nor never any fogs in those parts, there was the less occasion for a\ncompass, seeing the stars were always to be seen by night, and the shore\nby day, except in the rainy seasons, and then nobody cared to stir\nabroad, either by land or sea.\nI was now entered on the seven and twentieth year of my captivity in\nthis place; though the three last years that I had this creature with me\nought rather to be left out of the account, my habitation being quite of\nanother kind than in all the rest of the time. I kept the anniversary of\nmy landing here with the same thankfulness to God for his mercies as at\nfirst; and if I had such cause of acknowledgment at first, I had much\nmore so now, having such additional testimonies of the care of\nProvidence over me, and the great hopes I had of being effectually and\nspeedily delivered; for I had an invincible impression upon my thoughts\nthat my deliverance was at hand, and that I should not be another year\nin this place. I went on, however, with my husbandry; digging, planting,\nand fencing, as usual. I gathered and cured my grapes, and did every\nnecessary thing as before.\nThe rainy season was, in the mean time, upon me, when I kept more within\ndoors than at other times. We had stowed our new vessel as secure as we\ncould, bringing her up into the creek, where, as I said in the\nbeginning, I landed my rafts from the ship; and hauling her up to the\nshore, at high-water mark, I made my man Friday dig a little dock, just\nbig enough to hold her, and just deep enough to give her water enough to\nfloat in; and then, when the tide was out, we made a strong dam across\nthe end of it, to keep the water out; and so she lay dry, as to the\ntide, from the sea; and to keep the rain off, we laid a great many\nboughs of trees, so thick, that she was as well thatched as a house; and\nthus we waited for the months of November and December, in which I\ndesigned to make my adventure.\nWhen the settled season began to come in, as the thought of my design\nreturned with the fair weather, I was preparing daily for the voyage:\nand the first thing I did was to lay by a certain quantity of\nprovisions, being the stores for our voyage: and intended, in a week or\na fortnight's time, to open the dock, and launch out our boat. I was\nbusy one morning upon something of this kind, when I called to Friday,\nand bid him go to the sea-shore, and see if he could find a turtle, or\ntortoise, a thing which we generally got once a week, for the sake of\nthe eggs as well as the flesh. Friday had not been long gone, when he\ncame running back and flew over my outer-wall, or fence, like one that\nfelt not the ground, or the steps he set his feet on; and before I had\ntime to speak to him, he cries out to me, \"O master! O master! O sorrow!\nO bad!\"--\"What's the matter, Friday?\" says I. \"O yonder, there,\" says\nhe, \"one, two, three canoe; one, two, three!\" By this way of speaking, I\nconcluded there were six; but, on inquiry, I found it was but three.\n\"Well, Friday,\" says I, \"do not be frightened.\" So I heartened him up\nas well as I could: however, I saw the poor fellow was most terribly\nscared; for nothing ran in his head but that they were come to look for\nhim, and would cut him in pieces, and eat him; and the poor fellow\ntrembled so, that I scarce knew what to do with him. I comforted him as\nwell as I could, and told him I was in as much danger as he, and that\nthey would eat me as well as him. \"But,\" says I, \"Friday, we must\nresolve to fight them. Can you fight, Friday!\"--\"Me shoot,\" says he;\nbut there come many great number.\"--No matter for that,\" said I, again;\n\"our guns will fright them that we do not kill.\" So I asked him whether,\nif I resolved to defend him, he would defend me, and stand by me, and do\njust as I bid him. He said, \"Me die, when you bid die, master.\" So I\nwent and fetched a good dram of rum and gave him; for I had been so good\na husband of my rum, that I had a great deal left. When he drank it, I\nmade him take the two fowling-pieces, which we always carried, and\nloaded them with large swan-shot, as big as small pistol-bullets; then I\ntook four muskets, and loaded them with two slugs, and five small\nbullets each; and my two pistols I loaded with a brace of bullets each;\nI hung my great sword, as usual, naked by my side, and gave Friday his\nhatchet. When I had thus prepared myself, I took my perspective-glass,\nand went up to the side of the hill, to see what I could discover; and I\nfound quickly, by my glass, that there were one and twenty savages,\nthree prisoners, and three canoes; and that their whole business seemed\nto be the triumphant banquet upon these three human bodies; a barbarous\nfeast indeed! but nothing more than, as I had observed, was usual with\nthem. I observed also, that they were landed, not where they had done\nwhen Friday made his escape, but nearer to my creek: where the shore was\nlow, and where a thick wood came almost close down to the sea. This,\nwith the abhorrence of the inhuman errand these wretches came about,\nfilled me with such indignation, that I came down again to Friday, and\ntold him I was resolved to go down to them, and kill them all; and asked\nhim if he would stand by me. He had now got over his fright, and his\nspirits being a little raised with the dram I had given him, he was very\ncheerful, and told me, as before, he would die when I bid die.\nIn this fit of fury, I took and divided the arms which I had charged, as\nbefore, between us: I gave Friday one pistol to stick in his girdle, and\nthree guns upon his shoulder; and I took one pistol, and the other three\nguns, myself; and in this posture we marched out. I took a small bottle\nof rum in my pocket, and gave Friday a large bag with more powder and\nbullets; and, as to orders, I charged him to keep close behind me, and\nnot to stir, or shoot, or do any thing, till I bid him; and, in the mean\ntime, not to speak a word. In this posture, I fetched a compass to my\nright hand of near a mile, as well to get over the creek as to get into\nthe wood, so that I might come within shot of them before I should be\ndiscovered, which I had seen, by my glass, it was easy to do.\nWhile I was making this march, my former thoughts returning, I began to\nabate my resolution: I do not mean that I entertained any fear of their\nnumber; for, as they were naked, unarmed wretches, it is certain I was\nsuperior to them; nay, though I had been alone. But it occurred to my\nthoughts, what call, what occasion, much less what necessity I was in,\nto go and dip my hands in blood, to attack people who had neither done\nor intended me any wrong? Who, as to me, were innocent, and whose\nbarbarous customs were their own disaster; being, in them, a token\nindeed of God's having left them, with the other nations of that part of\nthe world, to such stupidity, and to such inhuman courses; but did not\ncall me to take upon me to be a judge of their actions, much less an\nexecutioner of his justice; that, whenever he thought fit, he would take\nthe cause into his own hands, and, by national vengeance, punish them,\nas a people, for national crimes; but that, in the mean time, it was\nnone of my business; that, it was true, Friday might justify it, because\nhe was a declared enemy, and in a state of war with those very\nparticular people, and it was lawful for him to attack them; but I could\nnot say the same with respect to myself. These things were so warmly\npressed upon my thoughts all the way as I went, that I resolved I would\nonly go and place myself near them, that I might observe their barbarous\nfeast, and that I would act then as God should direct; but that, unless\nsomething offered that was more a call to me than yet I knew of, I would\nnot meddle with them.\nWith this resolution I entered the wood; and, with all possible\nweariness and silence, Friday following close at my heels, I marched\ntill I came to the skirt of the wood, on the side which was next to\nthem, only that one corner of the wood lay between me and them. Here I\ncalled softly to Friday, and showing him a great tree, which was just at\nthe corner of the wood, I bade him go to the tree, and bring me word if\nhe could see there plainly what they were doing. He did so; and came\nimmediately back to me, and told me they might be plainly viewed there;\nthat they were all about their fire, eating the flesh of one of their\nprisoners, and that another lay bound upon the sand, a little from them,\nwhich, he said, they would kill next, and which fired the very soul\nwithin me. He told me it was not one of their nation, but one of the\nbearded men he had told me of, that came to their country in the boat. I\nwas filled with horror at the very naming the white-bearded man; and,\ngoing to the tree, I saw plainly, by my glass, a white man, who lay upon\nthe beach of the sea, with his hands and his feet tied with flags, or\nthings like rushes, and that he was an European, and had clothes on.\nThere was another tree, and a little thicket beyond it, about fifty\nyards nearer to them than the place where I was, which, by going a\nlittle way about, I saw I might come at undiscovered, and that then I\nshould be within half a shot of them: so I withheld my passion, though I\nwas indeed enraged to the highest degree; and going back about twenty\npaces, I got behind some bushes, which held all the way till I came to\nthe other tree; and then came to a little rising ground, which gave me a\nfull view of them, at the distance of about eighty yards.\nI had now not a moment to lose, for nineteen of the dreadful wretches\nsat upon the ground, all close huddled together, and had just sent the\nother two to butcher the poor Christian, and bring him, perhaps, limb by\nlimb, to their fire; and they were stooping down to untie the bands at\nhis feet. I turned to Friday--\"Now, Friday,\" said I, \"do as I bid thee.\"\nFriday said he would. \"Then, Friday,\" says I, \"do exactly as you see me\ndo; fail in nothing.\" So I set down one of the muskets and the\nfowling-piece upon the ground, and Friday did the like by his; and with\nthe other musket I took my aim at the savages, bidding him to do the\nlike: then asking him if he was ready, he said, \"Yes.\" \"Then fire at\nthem,\" said I; and the same moment I fired also.\nFriday took his aim so much better than I, that on the side that he\nshot, he killed two of them, and wounded three more; and on my side, I\nkilled one, and wounded two. They were, you may be sure, in a dreadful\nconsternation; and all of them who were not hurt jumped upon their feet,\nbut did not immediately know which way to run, or which way to look, for\nthey knew not from whence their destruction came. Friday kept his eyes\nclose upon me, that, as I had bid him, he might observe what I did; so,\nas soon as the first shot was made, I threw down the piece, and took up\nthe fowling-piece, and Friday did the like: he saw me cock and present;\nhe did the same again. \"Are you ready, Friday?\" said I.--\"Yes,\" says he.\n\"Let fly, then,\" says I, \"in the name of God!\" and with that, I fired\nagain among the amazed wretches, and so did Friday; and as our pieces\nwere now loaden with what I called swan-shot, or small pistol-bullets,\nwe found only two drop, but so many were wounded, that they ran about\nyelling and screaming like mad creatures, all bloody, and most of them\nmiserably wounded, whereof three more fell quickly after, though not\nquite dead.\n\"Now, Friday,\" says I, laying down the discharged pieces, and taking up\nthe musket which was yet loaden, \"follow me;\" which he did with a great\ndeal of courage; upon which I rushed out of the wood, and showed myself,\nand Friday close at my foot. As soon as I perceived they saw me, I\nshouted as loud as I could, and bade Friday do so too; and running as\nfast as I could, which, by the way, was not very fast, being loaded with\narms as I was, I made directly towards the poor victim, who was, as I\nsaid, lying upon, the beach, or shore, between the place where they sat\nand the sea. The two butchers, who were just going to work with him, had\nleft him at the surprise of our first fire, and fled in a terrible\nfright to the sea-side, and had jumped into a canoe, and three more of\nthe rest made the same way. I turned to Friday, and bade him step\nforwards, and fire at them; he understood me immediately, and running\nabout forty yards, to be nearer them, he shot at them, and I thought he\nhad killed them all, for I saw them all fall of a heap into the boat,\nthough I saw two of them up again quickly: however, he killed two of\nthem, and wounded the third so, that he lay down in the bottom of the\nboat as if he had been dead.\nWhile my man Friday fired at them, I pulled out my knife and cut the\nflags that bound the poor victim; and loosing his hands and feet, I\nlifted him up, and asked him in the Portuguese tongue, what he was. He\nanswered in Latin, Christianus; but was so weak and faint that he could\nscarce stand or speak. I took my bottle out of my pocket, and gave it\nhim, making signs that he should drink, which he did; and I gave him a\npiece of bread, which he eat. Then I asked him what countryman he was:\nand he said, Espagniole; and being a little recovered, let me know, by\nall the signs he could possibly make, how much he was in my debt for his\ndeliverance. \"Seignior,\" said I, with as much Spanish as I could make\nup, \"we will talk afterwards, but we must fight now: if you have any\nstrength left, take this pistol and sword, and lay about you.\" He took\nthem very thankfully; and no sooner had he the arms in his hands, but,\nas if they had put new vigour into him, he flew upon his murderers like\na fury, and had cut two of them in pieces in an instant; for the truth\nis, as the whole was a surprise to them, so the poor creatures were so\nmuch frightened with the noise of our pieces, that they fell down for\nmere amazement and fear, and had no more power to attempt their own\nescape, than their flesh had to resist our shot: and that was the case\nof those five that Friday shot at in the boat; for as three of them fell\nwith the hurt they received, so the other two fell with the fright.\nI kept my piece in my hand still without firing, being willing to keep\nmy charge ready, because I had given the Spaniard my pistol and sword:\nso I called to Friday, and bade-him run up to the tree from whence we\nfirst fired, and fetch the arms which lay there that had been\ndischarged, which he did with great swiftness; and then giving him my\nmusket, I sat down myself to load all the rest again, and bade them come\nto me when they wanted. While I was loading these pieces, there happened\na fierce engagement between the Spaniard and one of the savages, who\nmade at him with one of their great wooden swords, the same-like weapon\nthat was to have killed him before, if I had not prevented it. The\nSpaniard, who was as bold and brave as could be imagined, though weak,\nhad fought this Indian a good while, and had cut him two great wounds on\nhis head; but the savage being a stout, lusty fellow, closing in with\nhim, had thrown him down, being faint, and was wringing my sword out of\nhis hand; when the Spaniard, though undermost, wisely quitting the\nsword, drew the pistol from his girdle, shot the savage through the\nbody, and killed him upon the spot, before I, who was running to help\nhim, could come near him.\nFriday being now left to his liberty, pursued the flying wretches, with\nno weapon in his hand but his hatchet; and with that he dispatched those\nthree, who, as I said before, were wounded at first, and fallen, and all\nthe rest he could come up with: and the Spaniard coming to me for a gun,\nI gave him one of the fowling-pieces, with which he pursued two of the\nsavages, and wounded them both; but, as he was not able to run, they\nboth got from him into the wood, where Friday pursued them, and killed\none of them, but the other was too nimble for him; and though he was\nwounded, yet had plunged himself into the sea, and swam, with all his\nmight, off to those two who were left in the canoe, which three in the\ncanoe, with one wounded, that we knew not whether he died or no, were\nall that escaped our hands of one and twenty; the account of the whole\nis as follows: three killed at our first shot from the tree; two killed\nat the next shot; two killed by Friday in the boat; two killed by Friday\nof those at first wounded; one killed by Friday in the wood; three\nkilled by the Spaniard; four killed, being found dropped here and there,\nof their wounds, or killed by Friday in his chase of them; four escaped\nin the boat, whereof one wounded, if not dead.--Twenty-one in all.\nThose that were in the canoe worked hard to get out of gun-shot, and\nthough Friday made two or three shots at them, I did not find that he\nhit any of them. Friday would fain have had me take one of their\ncanoes, and pursue them; and, indeed, I was very anxious about their\nescape, lest carrying the news home to their people, they should come\nback perhaps with two or three hundred of the canoes, and devour us by\nmere multitude; so I consented to pursue them by sea, and running to one\nof their canoes, I jumped in, and bade Friday follow me; but when I was\nin the canoe, I was surprised to find another poor creature lie there,\nbound hand and foot, as the Spaniard was, for the slaughter, and almost\ndead with fear, not knowing what was the matter; for he had not been\nable to look up over the side of the boat, he was tied so hard neck and\nheels, and had been tied so long, that he had really but little life\nin him.\nI immediately cut the twisted flags or rushes, which they had bound him\nwith, and would have helped him up; but he could not stand or speak, but\ngroaned most piteously, believing, it seems, still, that he was only\nunbound in order to be killed. When Friday came to him, I bade him speak\nto him, and tell him of his deliverance; and, pulling out my bottle,\nmade him give the poor wretch a dram; which, with the news of his being\ndelivered, revived him, and he sat up in the boat. But when Friday came\nto hear him speak, and look in his face, it would have moved any one to\ntears to have seen how Friday kissed him, embraced him, hugged him,\ncried, laughed, hallooed, jumped about, danced, sung; then cried again,\nwrung his hands, beat his own face and head; and then sung and jumped\nabout again, like a distracted creature. It was a good while before I\ncould make him speak to me, or tell me what was the matter; but when he\ncame a little to himself, he told me that it was his father.\nIt is not easy for me to express how it moved me to see what ecstasy and\nfilial affection had worked in this poor savage at the sight of his\nfather, and of his being delivered from death; nor, indeed, can I\ndescribe half the extravagances of his affection after this; for he went\ninto the boat, and out of the boat, a great many times: when he went in\nto him, he would sit down by him, open his breast, and hold his father's\nhead close to his bosom for many minutes together, to nourish it; then\nhe took his arms and ancles, which were numbed and stiff with the\nbinding, and chafed and rubbed them with his hands; and I, perceiving\nwhat the case was, gave him some rum out of my bottle to rub them with,\nwhich did them a great deal of good.\nThis affair put an end to our pursuit of the canoe with the other\nsavages, who were now got almost out of sight; and it was happy for us\nthat we did not, for it blew so hard within two hours after, and before\nthey could be got a quarter of their way, and continued blowing so hard\nall night, and that from the north-west, which was against them, that I\ncould not suppose their boat could live, or that they ever reached their\nown coast.\nBut, to return to Friday; he was so busy about his father, that I could\nnot find in my heart to take him off for some time: but after I thought\nhe could leave him a little, I called him to me, and he came jumping and\nlaughing, and pleased to the highest extreme; then I asked him if he\nhad given his father any bread. He shook his head, and said, \"None; ugly\ndog eat all up self,\" I then gave him a cake of bread, out of a little\npouch I carried on purpose; I also gave him a dram for himself, but he\nwould not taste it, but carried it to his father. I had in my pocket two\nor three bunches of raisins, so I gave him a handful of them for his\nfather. He had no sooner given his father these raisins, but I saw him\ncome out of the boat, and run away, as if he had been bewitched, he ran\nat such a rate; for he was the swiftest fellow on his feet that ever I\nsaw: I say, he ran at such a rate, that he was out of sight, as it were,\nin an instant; and though I called, and hallooed out too, after him, it\nwas all one, away he went; and in a quarter of an hour I saw him come\nback again, though not so fast as he went; and as he came nearer, I\nfound his pace slacker, because he had something in his hand. When he\ncame up to me, I found he had been quite home for an earthen jug, or\npot, to bring his father some fresh water, and that he had two more\ncakes or loaves of bread; the bread he gave me, but the water he carried\nto his father; however, as I was very thirsty too, I took, a little sup\nof it. The water revived his father more than all the rum or spirits I\nhad given him, for he was just fainting with thirst.\nWhen his father had drank, I called to him to know, if there was any\nwater left: he said, \"Yes;\" and I bade him give it to the poor Spaniard,\nwho was in as much want of it as his father; and I sent one of the\ncakes, that Friday brought, to the Spaniard too, who was indeed very\nweak, and was reposing himself upon a green place under the shade of a\ntree; and whose limbs were also very stiff and very much swelled with\nthe rude bandage he had been tied with. When I saw that, upon Friday's\ncoming to him with the water, he sat up and drank, and took the bread,\nand began to eat, I went to him and gave him a handful of raisins: he\nlooked up in my face with all the tokens of gratitude and thankfulness\nthat could appear in any countenance; but was so weak, notwithstanding\nhe had so exerted himself in the fight, that he could not stand up upon\nhis feet; he tried to do it two or three times, but was really not able,\nhis ancles were so swelled and so painful to him; so I bade him sit\nstill, and caused Friday to rub his ancles, and bathe them with rum, as\nhe had done his father's.\nI observed the poor affectionate creature, every two minutes, or perhaps\nless, all the while he was here, turn his head about, to see if his\nfather was in the same place and posture as he left him sitting; and at\nlast he found he was not to be seen; at which he started up, and,\nwithout speaking a word, flew with that swiftness to him, that one could\nscarce perceive his feet to touch the ground as he went: but when he\ncame, he only found he had laid himself down to ease his limbs, so\nFriday came back to me presently; and then I spoke to the Spaniard to\nlet Friday help him up, if he could, and lead him to the boat, and then\nhe should carry him to our dwelling, where I would take care of him: but\nFriday, a lusty strong fellow, took the Spaniard quite up upon his back,\nand carried him away to the boat, and set him down softly upon the side\nor gunnel of the canoe, with his feet in the inside of it; and then\nlifting him quite in, he set him close to his father; and presently\nstepping out again, launched the boat off, and paddled it along the\nshore faster than I could walk, though the wind blew pretty hard too: so\nhe brought them both safe into our creek, and leaving them in the boat,\nran away to fetch the other canoe. As he passed me, I spoke to him, and\nasked him whither he went. He told me, \"Go fetch more boat:\" so away he\nwent like the wind, for sure never man or horse ran like him; and he had\nthe other canoe in the creek almost as soon as I got to it by land; so\nhe wafted me over, and then went to help our new guests out of the boat,\nwhich he did; but they were neither of them able to walk, so that poor\nFriday knew not what to do.\nTo remedy this, I went to work in my thought, and calling to Friday to\nbid them sit down on the bank while he came to me, I soon made a kind of\na hand-barrow to lay them on, and Friday and I carried them both up\ntogether upon it, between us.\nBut when we got them to the outside of our wall, or fortification, we\nwere at a worse loss than before, for it was impossible to get them\nover, and I was resolved not to break it down: so I set to work again;\nand Friday and I, in about two hours' time, made a very handsome tent,\ncovered with old sails, and above that with boughs of trees, being in\nthe space without our outward fence, and between, that and the grove of\nyoung wood which I had planted: and here we made them two beds of such\nthings as I had, viz. of good rice-straw, with blankets laid upon it,\nto lie on, and another to cover them, on each bed.\nMy island was now peopled, and I thought myself very rich in subjects;\nand it was a merry reflection, which I frequently made, how like a king\nI looked. First of all, the whole country was my own mere property, so\nthat I had an undoubted right of dominion. Secondly, my people were\nperfectly subjected; I was absolutely lord and lawgiver; they all owed\ntheir lives to me, and were ready to lay down their lives, if there had\nbeen occasion for it, for me. It was remarkable, too, I had but three\nsubjects, and they were of three different religions: my man Friday was\na Protestant, his father was a Pagan and a cannibal, and the Spaniard\nwas a Papist: however, I allowed liberty of conscience throughout my\ndominions:--But this is by the way.\nAs soon as I had secured my two weak rescued prisoners, and given them\nshelter, and a place to rest them upon, I began to think of making some\nprovision for them; and the first thing I did, I ordered Friday to take\na yearling goat, betwixt a kid and a goat, out of my particular flock,\nto be killed; when I cut off the hinder-quarter, and chopping it into\nsmall pieces, I set Friday to work to boiling and stewing, and made them\na very good dish, I assure you, of flesh and broth, having put some\nbarley and rice also into the broth: and as I cooked it without doors,\nfor I made no fire within my inner wall, so I carried it all into the\nnew tent, and having set a table there for them, I sat down, and eat my\ndinner also with them, and, as well as I could, cheered them, and\nencouraged them. Friday was my interpreter, especially to his father,\nand, indeed, to the Spaniard too; for the Spaniard spoke the language of\nthe savages pretty well.\nAfter we had dined, or rather supped, I ordered Friday to take one of\nthe canoes, and go and fetch our muskets and other fire-arms, which, for\nwant of time, we had left upon the place of battle: and, the next day, I\nordered him to go and bury the dead bodies of the savages, which lay\nopen to the sun, and would presently be offensive. I also ordered him to\nbury the horrid remains of their barbarous feast, which I knew were\npretty much, and which I could not think of doing myself; nay, I could\nnot bear to see them, if I went that way; all which he punctually\nperformed, and effaced the very appearance of the savages being there;\nso that when I went again, I could scarce know where it was, otherwise\nthan by the corner of the wood pointing to the place.\nI then began to enter into a little conversation with my two new\nsubjects: and, first, I set Friday to inquire of his father what he\nthought of the escape of the savages in that canoe, and whether we might\nexpect a return of them, with a power too great for us to resist. His\nfirst opinion was, that the savages in the boat never could live out the\nstorm which blew that night they went off, but must, of necessity, be\ndrowned, or driven south to those other shores, where they were as sure\nto be devoured as they were to be drowned, if they were cast away: but,\nas to what they would do, if they came safe on shore, he said he knew\nnot; but it was his opinion, that they were so dreadfully frightened\nwith the manner of their being attacked, the noise, and the fire, that\nhe believed they would tell the people they were all killed by thunder\nand lightning, not by the hand of man; and that the two which appeared,\nviz. Friday and I, were two heavenly spirits, or furies, come down to\ndestroy them, and not men with weapons. This, he said, he knew; because\nhe heard them all cry out so, in their language, one to another; for it\nwas impossible for them to conceive that a man could dart fire, and\nspeak thunder, and kill at a distance, without lifting up the hand, as\nwas done now: and this old savage was in the right; for, as I understood\nsince, by other hands, the savages never attempted to go over to the\nisland afterwards, they were so terrified with the accounts given by\nthose four men (for, it seems, they did escape the sea,) that they\nbelieved whoever went to that enchanted island would be destroyed with\nfire from the gods. This, however, I knew not; and therefore was under\ncontinual apprehensions for a good while, and kept always upon my guard,\nwith all my army: for, as there were now four of us, I would have\nventured upon a hundred of them, fairly in the open field, at any time.\nIn a little time, however, no more canoes appearing, the fear of their\ncoming wore off; and I began to take my former thoughts of a voyage to\nthe main into consideration; being likewise assured, by Friday's\nfather, that I might depend upon good usage from their nation, on his\naccount, if I would go. But my thoughts were a little suspended when I\nhad a serious discourse with the Spaniard, and when I understood that\nthere were sixteen more of his countrymen and Portuguese, who, having\nbeen cast away, and made their escape to that side, lived there at\npeace, indeed, with the savages, but were very sore put to it for\nnecessaries, and indeed for life. I asked him all the particulars of\ntheir voyage, and found they were a Spanish ship, bound from the Rio de\nla Plata to the Havanna, being directed to leave their loading there,\nwhich was chiefly hides and silver, and to bring back what European\ngoods they could meet with there; that they had five Portuguese seamen\non board, whom they took out of another wreck; that five of their own\nmen were drowned, when first the ship was lost, and that these escaped,\nthrough infinite dangers and hazards, and arrived, almost starved, on\nthe cannibal coast, where they expected to have been devoured every\nmoment. He told me they had some arms with them, but they were perfectly\nuseless, for that they had neither powder nor ball, the washing of the\nsea having spoiled all their powder, but a little, which they used, at\ntheir first landing, to provide themselves some food.\nI asked him what he thought would become of them there, and if they had\nformed any design of making their escape. He said they had many\nconsultations about it; but that having neither vessel, nor tools to\nbuild one, nor provisions of any kind, their councils always ended in\ntears and despair. I asked him how he thought they would receive a\nproposal from me, which might tend towards an escape; and whether, if\nthey were all here, it might not be done. I told him with freedom, I\nfeared mostly their treachery and ill usage of me, if I put my life in\ntheir hands; for that gratitude was no inherent virtue in the nature of\nman, nor did men always square their dealings by the obligations they\nhad received, so much as they did by the advantages they expected. I\ntold him it would be very hard that I should be the instrument of their\ndeliverance, and that they should afterwards make me their prisoner in\nNew Spain, where an Englishman was certain to be made a sacrifice, what\nnecessity, or what accident soever brought him thither; and that I had\nrather be delivered up to the savages, and be devoured alive, than fall\ninto the merciless claws of the priests, and be carried into the\nInquisition. I added, that otherwise I was persuaded, if they were all\nhere, we might, with so many hands, build a bark large enough to carry\nus all away, either to the Brazils, southward, or to the islands, or\nSpanish coast, northward; but that if, in requital, they should, when I\nhad put weapons into their hands, carry me by force among their own\npeople, I might be ill used for my kindness to them, and make my case\nworse than it was before.\nHe answered, with a great deal of candour and ingenuousness, that their\ncondition was so miserable, and that they were so sensible of it, that,\nhe believed, they would abhor the thought of using any man unkindly that\nshould contribute to their deliverance; and that if I pleased, he would\ngo to them with the old man, and discourse with them about it and return\nagain, and bring me their answer; that he would make conditions with\nthem upon their solemn oath, that they should be absolutely under my\nleading, as their commander and captain; and that they should swear upon\nthe holy sacraments and gospel, to be true to me, and go to such\nChristian country as that I should agree to, and no other, and to be\ndirected wholly and absolutely by my orders, till they were landed\nsafely in such country as I intended; and that he would bring a contract\nfrom them, under their hands, for that purpose. Then he told me he would\nfirst swear to me himself, that he would never stir from me as long as\nhe lived, till I gave him orders; and that he would take my side to the\nlast drop of his blood, if there should happen the least breach of faith\namong his countrymen. He told me they were all of them very civil,\nhonest men, and they were under the greatest distress imaginable, having\nneither weapons or clothes, nor any food, but at the mercy and\ndiscretion of the savages; out of all hopes of ever returning to their\nown country; and that he was sure, if I would undertake their relief,\nthey would live and die by me.\nUpon these assurances, I resolved to venture to relieve them, if\npossible, and to send the old savage and this Spaniard over to them to\ntreat. But when we had got all things in readiness to go, the Spaniard\nhimself started an objection, which had so much prudence in it, on one\nhand, and so much sincerity on the other hand, that I could not but be\nvery well satisfied in it; and, by his advice, put off the deliverance\nof his comrades for at least half a year. The case was thus: He had been\nwith us now about a month, during which time I had let him see in what\nmanner I had provided, with the assistance of Providence, for my\nsupport; and he saw evidently what stock of corn and rice I had laid up;\nwhich, though it was more than sufficient for myself, yet it was not\nsufficient, without good husbandry, for my family, now it was increased\nto four; but much less would it be sufficient if his countrymen, who\nwere, as he said, sixteen, still alive, should come over; and, least of\nall, would it be sufficient to victual our vessel, if we should build\none, for a voyage to any of the Christian colonies of America; so he\ntold me he thought it would be more adviseable to let him and the other\ntwo dig and cultivate some more land, as much as I could spare seed to\nsow, and that we should wait another harvest, that we might have a\nsupply of corn for his countrymen, when they should come; for want might\nbe a temptation to them to disagree, or not to think themselves\ndelivered, otherwise than out of one difficulty into another. \"You\nknow,\" says he, \"the children of Israel, though they rejoiced at first\nfor their being delivered out of Egypt, yet rebelled even against God\nhimself, that delivered them, when they came to want bread in the\nwilderness.\"\nHis caution was so seasonable, and his advice so good, that I could not\nbut be very well pleased with his proposal, as well as I was satisfied\nwith his fidelity: so we fell to digging all four of us, as well as the\nwooden tools we were furnished with permitted; and in about a month's\ntime, by the end of which it was seed-time, we had got as much land\ncured and trimmed up as we sowed two and twenty bushels of barley on,\nand sixteen jars of rice; which was, in short, all the seed we had to\nspare: nor, indeed, did we leave ourselves barley sufficient for our own\nfood, for the six months that we had to expect our crop; that is to say,\nreckoning from the time we set our seed aside for sowing; for it is not\nto be supposed it is six months in the ground in that country.\nHaving now society enough, and our number being sufficient to put us out\nof fear of the savages, if they had come, unless their number had been\nvery great, we went freely all over the island, whenever we found\noccasion; and as here we had our escape or deliverance upon our\nthoughts, it was impossible, at least for me, to have the means of it\nout of mine. For this purpose, I marked out several trees which I\nthought fit for our work, and I set Friday and his father to cutting\nthem down; and then I caused the Spaniard, to whom I imparted my\nthoughts on that affair, to oversee and direct their work. I showed them\nwith what indefatigable pains I had hewed a large tree into single\nplanks, and I caused them to do the like, till they had made about a\ndozen large planks of good oak, near two feet broad, thirty-five feet\nlong, and from two inches to four inches thick: what prodigious labour\nit took up, any one may imagine.\nAt the same time, I contrived to increase my little flock of tame goats\nas much as I could; and, for this purpose, I made Friday and the\nSpaniard go out one day, and myself with Friday the next day (for we\ntook our turns,) and by this means we got about twenty young kids to\nbreed up with the rest; for whenever we shot the dam, we saved the kids,\nand added them to our flock. But, above all, the season for curing the\ngrapes coming on, I caused such a prodigious quantity to be hung up in\nthe sun, that, I believe, had we been at Alicant, where the raisins of\nthe sun are cured, we could have filled sixty or eighty barrels; and\nthese, with our bread, was a great part of our food, and was very good\nliving too, I assure you, for it is exceeding nourishing.\nIt was now harvest, and our crop in good order: it was not the most\nplentiful increase I had seen in the island, but, however, it was enough\nto answer our end; for from twenty-two bushels of barley we brought in\nand threshed out above two hundred and twenty bushels, and the like in\nproportion of the rice; which was store enough for our food to the next\nharvest, though all the sixteen Spaniards had been on shore with me; or\nif we had been ready for a voyage, it would very plentifully have\nvictualled our ship to have carried us to any part of the world, that is\nto say, any part of America. When we had thus housed and secured our\nmagazine of corn, we fell to work to make more wicker-ware, viz. great\nbaskets, in which we kept it; and the Spaniard was very handy and\ndexterous at this part, and often blamed me that I did not make some\nthings for defence of this kind of work; but I saw no need of it.\nAnd now having a full supply of food for all the guests I expected, I\ngave the Spaniard leave to go over to the main, to see what he could do\nwith those he had left behind them there. I gave him a strict charge not\nto bring any man with him who would not first swear, in the presence of\nhimself and the old savage, that he would no way injure, fight with, or\nattack the person he should find in the island, who was so kind as to\nsend for them in order to their deliverance; but that they would stand\nby him, and defend him against all such attempts, and wherever they\nwent, would be entirely under and subjected to his command; and that\nthis should be put in writing, and signed with their hands. How they\nwere to have done this, when I knew they had neither pen nor ink, was a\nquestion which we never asked. Under these instructions, the Spaniard\nand the old savage, the father of Friday, went away in one of the canoes\nwhich they might be said to come in, or rather were brought in, when\nthey came as prisoners to be devoured by the savages. I gave each of\nthem a musket, with a firelock on it, and about eight charges of powder\nand ball, charging them to be very good husbands of both, and not to use\neither of them but upon urgent occasions.\nThis was a cheerful work, being the first measures used by me, in view\nof my deliverance, for now twenty-seven years and some days. I gave them\nprovisions of bread, and of dried grapes, sufficient for themselves for\nmany days, and sufficient for all the Spaniards for about eight days'\ntime; and wishing them a good voyage, I saw them go; agreeing with them\nabout a signal they should hang out at their return, by which I should\nknow them again, when they came back, at a distance, before they came on\nshore. They went away with a fair gale, on the day that the moon was at\nfull, by my account in the month of October; but as for an exact\nreckoning of days, after I had once lost it, I could never recover it\nagain; nor had I kept even the number of years so punctually as to be\nsure I was right; though, as it proved, when I afterwards examined my\naccount, I found I had kept a true reckoning of years.\nIt was no less than eight days I had waited for them, when a strange and\nunforeseen accident intervened, of which the like has not perhaps been\nheard of in history. I was fast asleep in my hutch one morning, when my\nman Friday came running in to me, and called aloud, \"Master, master,\nthey are come, they are come!\" I jumped up, and, regardless of danger, I\nwent out as soon as I could get my clothes on, through my little grove,\nwhich, by the way, was by this time grown to be a very thick wood; I\nsay, regardless of danger, I went without my arms, which was not my\ncustom to do: but I was surprised, when turning my eyes to the sea, I\npresently saw a boat at about a league and a half distance, standing in\nfor the shore, with a shoulder of mutton sail, as they call it, and the\nwind blowing pretty fair to bring them in: also I observed presently,\nthat they did not come from that side which the shore lay on, but from\nthe southernmost end of the island. Upon this, I called Friday in, and\nbade him lie close, for these were not the people we looked for, and\nthat we might not know yet whether they were friends or enemies. In the\nnext place, I went in to fetch my perspective-glass, to see what I could\nmake of them; and having taken the ladder out, I climbed up to the top\nof the hill, as I used to do when I was apprehensive of any thing, and\nto take my view the plainer, without being discovered. I had scarce set\nmy foot upon the hill, when my eye plainly discovered a ship lying at an\nanchor, at about two leagues and a half distance from me, S.S.E. but not\nabove a league and a half from the shore. By my observation, it appeared\nplainly to be an English ship, and the boat appeared to be an English\nlong-boat.\nI cannot express the confusion I was in; though the joy of seeing a\nship, and one that I had reason to believe was manned by my own\ncountrymen, and consequently friends, was such as I cannot describe; but\nyet I had some secret doubts hung about me, I cannot tell from whence\nthey came, bidding me keep upon my guard. In the first place, it\noccurred to me to consider what business an English ship could have in\nthat part of the world, since it was not the way to or from any part of\nthe world where the English had any traffic; and I knew there had been\nno storms to drive them in there, as in distress; and that if they were\nreally English, it was most probable that they were here upon no good\ndesign; and that I had better continue as I was, than fall into the\nhands of thieves and murderers.\nLet no man despise the secret hints and notices of danger, which\nsometimes are given him when he may think there is no possibility of its\nbeing real. That such hints and notices are given us, I believe few that\nhave made any observations of things can deny; that they are certain\ndiscoveries of an invisible world, and a converse of spirits, we cannot\ndoubt; and if the tendency of them seems to be to warn us of danger, why\nshould we not suppose they are from some friendly agent (whether\nsupreme, or inferior and subordinate, is not the question,) and that\nthey are given for our good?\nThe present question abundantly confirms me in the justice of this\nreasoning; for had I not been made cautious by this secret admonition,\ncome it from whence it will, I had been undone inevitably, and in a far\nworse condition than before, as you will see presently. I had not kept\nmyself long in this posture, but I saw the boat draw near the shore, as\nif they looked for a creek to thrust in at, for the convenience of\nlanding; however, as they did not come quite far enough, they did not\nsee the little inlet where I formerly landed my rafts, but run their\nboat on shore upon the beach, at about half a mile from me, which was\nvery happy for me; for otherwise they would have landed just at my door,\nas I may say, and would soon have beaten me out of my castle, and\nperhaps have plundered me of all I had. When they were on shore, I was\nfully satisfied they were Englishmen, at least most of them; one or two\nI thought were Dutch, but it did not prove so; there were in all eleven\nmen, whereof three of them I found were unarmed, and, as I thought,\nbound; and when the first four or five of them were jumped on shore,\nthey took those three out of the boat, as prisoners: one of the three I\ncould perceive using the most passionate gestures of entreaty,\naffliction, and despair, even to a kind of extravagance; the other two,\nI could perceive, lifted up their hands sometimes, and appeared\nconcerned, indeed, but not to such a degree as the first. I was\nperfectly confounded at the sight, and knew not what the meaning of it\nshould be. Friday called out to me in English, as well as he could, \"O\nmaster! you see English mans eat prisoner as well as savage\nmans.\"--\"Why, Friday,\" says I, \"do you think they are going to eat them\nthen?\"--\"Yes,\" says Friday, \"they will eat them.\"--\"No, no,\" says I,\n\"Friday; I am afraid they will murder them, indeed, but you may be sure\nthey will not eat them.\"\nAll this while I had no thought of what the matter really was, but stood\ntrembling with the horror of the sight, expecting every moment when the\nthree prisoners should be killed; nay, once I saw one of the villains\nlift up his arm with a great cutlass, as the seamen call it, or sword,\nto strike one of the poor men; and I expected to see him fall every\nmoment; at which all the blood in my body seemed to run chill in my\nveins. I wished heartily now for my Spaniard, and the savage that was\ngone with him, or that I had any way to have come undiscovered within\nshot of them, that I might have rescued the three men, for I saw no\nfire-arms they had among them; but it fell out to my mind another way.\nAfter I had observed the outrageous usage of the three men by the\ninsolent seamen, I observed the fellows run scattering about the island,\nas if they wanted to see the country. I observed that the three other\nmen had liberty to go also where they pleased; but they sat down all\nthree upon the ground, very pensive, and looked like men in despair.\nThis put me in mind of the first time when I came on shore, and began to\nlook about me; how I gave myself over for lost; how wildly I looked\nround me; what dreadful apprehensions I had; and how I lodged in the\ntree all night, for fear of being devoured by wild beasts. As I knew\nnothing, that night, of the supply I was to receive by the providential\ndriving of the ship nearer the land by the storms and tide, by which I\nhave since been so long nourished and supported; so these three poor\ndesolate men knew nothing how certain of deliverance and supply they\nwere, how near it was to them, and how effectually and really they were\nin a condition of safety, at the same time that they thought themselves\nlost, and their case desperate. So little do we see before us in the\nworld, and so much reason have we to depend cheerfully upon the great\nMaker of the world, that he does not leave his creatures so absolutely\ndestitue, but that, in the worst circumstances, they have always\nsomething to be thankful for, and sometimes are nearer their deliverance\nthan they imagine; nay, are even brought to their deliverance by the\nmeans by which they seem to be brought to their destruction.\nIt was just at the top of high water when these people came on shore;\nand partly while they rambled about to see what kind of a place they\nwere in, they had carelessly staid till the tide was spent, and the\nwater was ebbed considerably away, leaving their boat aground. They had\nleft two men in the boat, who, as I found afterwards, having drank a\nlittle too much brandy, fell asleep; however, one of them waking a\nlittle sooner than the other, and finding the boat too fast aground for\nhim to stir it, hallooed out for the rest, who were straggling about;\nupon which they all soon came to the boat: but it was past all their\nstrength to launch her, the boat being very heavy, and the shore on that\nside being a soft oozy sand, almost like a quicksand. In this condition,\nlike true seamen, who are perhaps the least of all mankind given to\nforethought, they gave it over, and away they strolled about the country\nagain; and I heard one of them say aloud to another, calling them off\nfrom the boat, \"Why, let her alone, Jack, can't you? she'll float next\ntide:\" by which I was fully confirmed in the main inquiry of what\ncountrymen they were. All this while I kept myself very close, not once\ndaring to stir out of my castle, any farther than to my place of\nobservation, near the top of the hill; and very glad I was to think how\nwell it was fortified. I knew it was no less than ten hours before the\nboat could float again, and by that time it would be dark, and I might\nbe at more liberty to see their motions, and to hear their discourse, if\nthey had any. In the mean time, I fitted myself up for a battle, as\nbefore, though with more caution, knowing I had to do with another kind\nof enemy than I had at first. I ordered Friday also, whom I had made an\nexcellent marksman with his gun, to load himself with arms. I took\nmyself two fowling-pieces, and I gave him three muskets. My figure,\nindeed, was very fierce; I had my formidable goat-skin coat on, with the\ngreat cap I have mentioned, a naked sword by my side, two pistols in my\nbelt, and a gun upon each shoulder.\nIt was my design, as I said above, not to have made any attempt till it\nwas dark: but about two o'clock, being the heat of the day, I found\nthat, in short, they were all gone straggling into the woods, and, as I\nthought, laid down to sleep. The three poor distressed men, too anxious\nfor their condition to get any sleep, were, however, sat down under the\nshelter of a great tree, at about a quarter of a mile from me, and, as I\nthought, out of sight of any of the rest. Upon this I resolved to\ndiscover myself to them, and learn something of their condition;\nimmediately I marched in the figure as above, my man Friday at a good\ndistance behind me, as formidable for his arms as I, but not making\nquite so staring a spectre-like figure as I did. I came as near them\nundiscovered as I could, and then, before any of them saw me, I called\naloud to them in Spanish, \"What are ye, gentlemen?\" They started up at\nthe noise; but were ten times more confounded when they saw me, and the\nuncouth figure that I made. They made no answer at all, but I thought I\nperceived them just going to fly from me, when I spoke to them in\nEnglish: \"Gentlemen,\" said I, \"do not be surprised at me: perhaps you\nmay have a friend near, when you did not expect it.\"--\"He must be sent\ndirectly from Heaven then,\" said one of them very gravely to me, and\npulling off his hat at the same time to me; \"for our condition is past\nthe help of man.\"--\"All help is from Heaven, Sir,\" said I: \"But can you\nput a stranger in the way how to help you? for you seem to be in some\ngreat distress. I saw you when you landed; and when you seemed to make\napplication to the brutes that came with you, I saw one of them lift up\nhis sword to kill you.\"\nThe poor man, with tears running down his face, and trembling, looking\nlike one astonished, returned, \"Am I talking to God or man? Is it a real\nman or an angel?\"--\"Be in no fear about that, Sir,\" said I; \"if God had\nsent an angel to relieve you, he would have come better clothed, and\narmed after another manner than you see me: pray lay aside your fears; I\nam a man, an Englishman, and disposed to assist you: you see I have one\nservant only; we have arms and ammunition; tell us freely, can we serve\nyou? What is your case?\"--\"Our case,\" said he, \"Sir, is too long to tell\nyou, while our murderers are so near us; but, in short, Sir, I was\ncommander of that ship, my men have mutinied against me; they have been\nhardly prevailed on not to murder me; and at last have set me on shore\nin this desolate place, with these two men with me, one my mate, the\nother a passenger, where we expected to perish, believing the place to\nbe uninhabited, and know not yet what to think of it.\"--\"Where are these\nbrutes, your enemies?\" said I: \"Do you know where they are\ngone?\"--\"There they lie, Sir,\" said he, pointing to a thicket of trees;\n\"my heart trembles for fear they have seen us, and heard you speak; if\nthey have, they will certainly murder us all.\"--\"Have they any\nfire-arms?\" said I. He answered, \"they had only two pieces, one of which\nthey left in the boat.\" \"Well then,\" said I, \"leave the rest to me; I\nsee they are all asleep, it is an easy thing to kill them all: but shall\nwe rather take them prisoners?\" He told me there were two desperate\nvillains among them, that it was scarce safe to show any mercy to; but\nif they were secured, he believed all the rest would return to their\nduty. I asked him which they were? He told me he could not at that\ndistance distinguish them, but he would obey my orders in any thing I\nwould direct. \"Well,\" says I, \"let us retreat out of their view or\nhearing, lest they awake, and we will resolve further.\" So they\nwillingly went back with me, till the woods covered us from them.\n\"Look you, Sir,\" said I, \"if I venture upon your deliverance, are you\nwilling to make two conditions with me?\" He anticipated my proposals, by\ntelling me, that both he and the ship, if recovered, should be wholly\ndirected and commanded by me in every thing; and, if the ship was not\nrecovered, he would live and die with me in what part of the world\nsoever I would send him; and the two other men said the same. \"Well,\"\nsays I, \"my conditions are but two: first, That while you stay in this\nisland with me, you will not pretend to any authority here; and if I put\narms in your hands, you will, upon all occasions, give them up to me,\nand do no prejudice to me or mine upon this island; and, in the mean\ntime, be governed by my orders: secondly, That if the ship is, or may be\nrecovered, you will carry me and my man to England, passage free.\"\nHe gave me all the assurances that the invention or faith of man could\ndevise, that he would comply with these most reasonable demands; and,\nbesides, would owe his life to me, and acknowledge it upon all\noccasions, as long as he lived. \"Well then,\" said I, \"here are three\nmuskets for you, with powder and ball: tell me next what you think is\nproper to be done.\" He showed all the testimonies of his gratitude that\nhe was able, but offered to be wholly guided by me. I told him I thought\nit was hard venturing any thing; but the best method I could think of\nwas to fire upon them at once, as they lay, and if any were not killed\nat the first volley, and offered to submit, we might save them, and so\nput it wholly upon God's providence to direct the shot. He said very\nmodestly, that he was loath to kill them, if he could help it: but that\nthose two were incorrigible villains, and had been the authors of all\nthe mutiny in the ship, and if they escaped, we should be undone still;\nfor they would go on board and bring the whole ship's company, and\ndestroy us all. \"Well then,\" says I, \"necessity legitimates my advice,\nfor it is the only way to save our lives.\" However, seeing him still\ncautious of shedding blood, I told him they should go themselves, and\nmanage as they found convenient.\nIn the middle of this discourse we heard some of them awake, and soon\nafter we saw two of them on their feet. I asked him if either of them\nwere the heads of the mutiny? He said, No. \"Well then,\" said I, \"you may\nlet them escape; and Providence seems to have awakened them on purpose\nto save themselves.--Now,\" says I, \"if the rest escape you, it is your\nfault.\" Animated with this, he took the musket I had given him in his\nhand, and a pistol in his belt, and his two comrades with him, with each\na piece in his hand; the two men who were with him going first, made\nsome noise, at which one of the seamen who was awake turned about, and\nseeing them coming, cried out to the rest; but it was too late then, for\nthe moment he cried out they fired; I mean the two men, the captain\nwisely reserving his own piece. They had so well aimed their shot at the\nmen they knew, that one of them was killed on the spot, and the other\nvery much wounded; but not being dead, he started up on his feet, and\ncalled eagerly for help to the other; but the captain stepping to him,\ntold him it was too late to cry for help, he should call upon God to\nforgive his villany; and with that word knocked him down with the stock\nof his musket, so that he never spoke more: there were three more in the\ncompany, and one of them was also slightly wounded. By this time I was\ncome; and when they saw their danger, and that it was in vain to resist,\nthey begged for mercy. The captain told them he would spare their lives,\nif they would give him any assurance of their abhorrence of the\ntreachery they had been guilty of, and would swear to be faithful to him\nin recovering the ship, and afterwards in carrying her back to Jamaica,\nfrom whence they came. They gave him all the protestations of their\nsincerity that could be desired, and he was willing to believe them, and\nspare their lives, which I was not against, only that I obliged him to\nkeep them bound hand and foot while they were on the island.\nWhile this was doing, I sent Friday with the captain's mate to the boat,\nwith orders to secure her, and bring away the oars and sails, which they\ndid: and by and by three straggling men, that were (happily for them)\nparted from the rest, came back upon hearing the guns fired; and seeing\nthe captain, who before was their prisoner, now their conqueror, they\nsubmitted to be bound also; and so our victory was complete.\nIt now remained that the captain and I should inquire into one another's\ncircumstances: I began first, and told him my whole history, which he\nheard with an attention even to amazement; and particularly at the\nwonderful manner of my being furnished with provisions and ammunition;\nand, indeed, as my story is a whole collection of wonders, it affected\nhim deeply. But when he reflected from thence upon himself, and how I\nseemed to have been preserved there on purpose to save his life, the\ntears ran down his face, and he could not speak a word more. After this\ncommunication was at an end, I carried him and his two men into my\napartment, leading them in just where I came out, viz. at the top of the\nhouse, where I refreshed them with such provisions as I had, and showed\nthem all the contrivances I had made, during my long, long inhabiting\nthat place.\nAll I showed them, all I said to them, was perfectly amazing; but,\nabove all, the captain admired my fortification, and how perfectly I had\nconcealed my retreat with a grove of trees, which, having been now\nplanted near twenty years, and the trees growing much faster than in\nEngland, was become a little wood, and so thick, that it was impassable\nin any part of it, but at that one side where I had reserved my little\nwinding passage into it. I told him this was my castle and my residence,\nbut that I had a seat in the country, as most princes have, whither I\ncould retreat upon occasion, and I would show him that too another time:\nbut at present our business was to consider how to recover the ship. He\nagreed with me as to that; but told me, he was perfectly at a loss what\nmeasures to take, for that there were still six and twenty hands on\nboard, who having entered into a cursed conspiracy, by which they had\nall forfeited their lives to the law, would be hardened in it now by\ndesperation, and would carry it on, knowing that, if they were subdued,\nthey would be brought to the gallows as soon as they came to England, or\nto any of the English colonies; and that, therefore, there would be no\nattacking them with so small a number as we were.\nI mused for some time upon what he had said, and found it was a very\nrational conclusion, and that, therefore, something was to be resolved\non speedily, as well to draw the men on board into some snare for their\nsurprise, as to prevent their landing upon us, and destroying us. Upon\nthis, it presently occurred to me, that in a little while the ship's\ncrew, wondering what was become of their comrades, and of the boat,\nwould certainly come on shore in their other boat, to look for them;\nand that then, perhaps, they might come armed, and be too strong for us:\nthis he allowed to be rational. Upon this, I told him the first thing we\nhad to do was to stave the boat, which lay upon the beach, so that they\nmight not carry her off: and taking every thing out of her, leave her so\nfar useless as not to be fit to swim: accordingly we went on board, took\nthe arms which were left on board out of her, and whatever else we found\nthere, which was a bottle of brandy, and another of rum, a few\nbiscuit-cakes, a horn of powder, and a great lump of sugar in a piece of\ncanvass (the sugar was five or six pounds;) all which was very welcome\nto me, especially the brandy and sugar, of which I had none left for\nmany years.\nWhen we had carried all these things on shore, (the oars, mast, sail,\nand rudder of the boat were carried away before, as above,) we knocked a\ngreat hole in her bottom, that if they had come strong enough to master\nus, yet they could not carry off the boat. Indeed, it was not much in my\nthoughts that we could be able to recover the ship; but my view was,\nthat if they went away without the boat, I did not much question to make\nher fit again to carry us to the Leeward Islands, and call upon our\nfriends the Spaniards in my way; for I had them still in my thoughts.\nWhile we were thus preparing our designs, and had first, by main\nstrength, heaved the boat upon the beach so high, that the tide would\nnot float her off at high water mark, and besides, had broke a hole in\nher bottom too big to be quickly stopped, and were set down musing what\nwe should do, we heard the ship fire a gun, and saw her make a waft with\nher ensign as a signal for the boat to come on board: but no boat\nstirred; and they fired several times, making other signals for the\nboat. At last, when all their signals and firing proved fruitless, and\nthey found the boat did not stir, we saw them, by the help of my\nglasses, hoist another boat out, and row towards the shore; and we\nfound, as they approached, that there were no less than ten men in her;\nand that they had fire-arms with them.\nAs the ship lay almost two leagues from the shore, we had a full view of\nthem as they came, and a plain sight even of their faces; because the\ntide having set them a little to the east of the other boat, they rowed\nup under shore, to come to the same place where the other had landed,\nand where the boat lay; by this means, I say, we had a full view of\nthem, and the captain knew the persons and characters of all the men in\nthe boat, of whom, he said, there were three very honest fellows, who,\nhe was sure, were led into this conspiracy by the rest, being\noverpowered and frightened; but that as for the boatswain, who, it\nseems, was the chief officer among them, and all the rest, they were as\noutrageous as any of the ship's crew, and were no doubt made desperate\nin their new enterprise; and terribly apprehensive he was that they\nwould be too powerful for us. I smiled at him, and told him that men in\nour circumstances were past the operation of fear; that seeing almost\nevery condition that could be was better than that which we were\nsupposed to be in, we ought to expect that the consequence, whether\ndeath or life, would be sure to be a deliverance, I asked him what he\nthought of the circumstances of my life, and whether a deliverance were\nnot worth venturing for? \"And where, Sir,\" said I, \"is your belief of my\nbeing preserved here on purpose to save your life, which elevated you a\nlittle while ago? For my part,\" said I, \"there seems to me but one thing\namiss in all the prospect of it.\"--\"What is that?\" says he. \"Why,\" said\nI, \"it is, that as you say there are three or four honest fellows among\nthem, which should be spared, had they been all of the wicked part of\nthe crew I should have thought God's providence had singled them out to\ndeliver them into your hands; for depend upon it, every man that comes\nashore are our own, and shall die or live as they behave to us.\" As I\nspoke this with a raised voice and cheerful countenance, I found it\ngreatly encouraged him; so we set vigorously to our business.\nWe had, upon the first appearance of the boat's coming from the ship,\nconsidered of separating our prisoners; and we had, indeed, secured them\neffectually. Two of them, of whom the captain was less assured than\nordinary, I sent with Friday, and one of the three delivered men, to my\ncave, where they were remote enough, and out of danger of being heard or\ndiscovered, or of finding their way out of the woods if they could have\ndelivered themselves: here they left them bound, but gave them\nprovisions; and promised them, if they continued there quietly, to give\nthem their liberty in a day or two; but that if they attempted their\nescape, they should be put to death without mercy. They promised\nfaithfully to bear their confinement with patience, and were very\nthankful that they had such good usage as to have provisions and light\nleft them; for Friday gave them candles (such as we made ourselves) for\ntheir comfort; and they did not know but that he stood centinel over\nthem at the entrance.\nThe other prisoners had better usage; two of them were kept pinioned,\nindeed, because the captain was not free to trust them; but the other\ntwo were taken into my service, upon the captain's recommendation, and\nupon their solemnly engaging to live and die with us; so with them and\nthe three honest men we were seven men well armed; and I made no doubt\nwe should be able to deal well enough with the ten that were coming,\nconsidering that the captain had said there were three or four honest\nmen among them also. As soon as they got to the place where their other\nboat lay, they ran their boat into the beach, and came all on shore,\nhauling the boat up after them, which I was glad to see; for I was\nafraid they would rather have left the boat at an anchor, some distance\nfrom the shore, with some hands in her, to guard her, and so we should\nnot be able to seize the boat. Being on shore, the first thing they did,\nthey ran all to their other boat; and it was easy to see they were under\na great surprise to find her stripped, as above, of all that was in her,\nand a great hole in her bottom. After they had mused a while upon this,\nthey set up two or three great shouts, hallooing with all their might,\nto try if they could make their companions hear; but all was to no\npurpose: then they came all close in a ring, and fired a volley of their\nsmall arms, which, indeed, we heard, and the echoes made the woods\nring; but it was all one; those in the cave we were sure could not hear,\nand those in our keeping, though they heard it well enough, yet durst\ngive no answer to them. They were so astonished at the surprise of this,\nthat, as they told us afterwards, they resolved to go all on board\nagain, to their ship, and let them know that the men were all murdered,\nand the long-boat staved; accordingly, they immediately launched their\nboat again, and got all of them on board.\nThe captain was terribly amazed, and even confounded at this, believing\nthey would go on board the ship again, and set sail, giving their\ncomrades over for lost, and so he should still lose the ship, which he\nwas in hopes we should have recovered; but he was quickly as much\nfrightened the other way.\nThey had not been long put off with the boat, but we perceived them all\ncoming on shore again; but with this new measure in their conduct, which\nit seems they consulted together upon, viz. to leave three men in the\nboat, and the rest to go on shore, and go up into the country to look\nfor their fellows. This was a great disappointment to us, for now we\nwere at a loss what to do; as our seizing those seven men on shore would\nbe no advantage to us, if we let the boat escape; because they would\nthen row away to the ship, and then the rest of them would be sure to\nweigh and set sail, and so our recovering the ship would be lost.\nHowever, we had no remedy but to wait and see what the issue of things\nmight present. The seven men came on shore, and the three who remained\nin the boat put her off to a good distance from the shore, and came to\nan anchor to wait for them; so that it was impossible for us to come at\nthem in the boat. Those that came on shore kept close together, marching\ntowards the top of the little hill under which my habitation lay; and we\ncould see them plainly, though they could not perceive us. We could have\nbeen very glad they would have come nearer to us, so that we might have\nfired at them, or that they would have gone farther off, that we might\nhave come abroad. But when they were come to the brow of the hill, where\nthey could see a great way into the valleys and woods, which lay towards\nthe north-east part, and where the island lay lowest, they shouted and\nhallooed till they were weary; and not caring, it seems, to venture far\nfrom the shore, nor far from one another, they sat down together under a\ntree, to consider of it. Had they thought fit to have gone to sleep\nthere, as the other part of them had done, they had done the job for us;\nbut they were too full of apprehensions of danger to venture to go to\nsleep, though they could not tell what the danger was they had to\nfear neither.\nThe captain made a very just proposal to me upon this consultation of\ntheirs, viz. that perhaps they would all fire a volley again, to\nendeavour to make their fellows hear, and that we should all sally upon\nthem, just at the Juncture when their pieces were all discharged, and\nthey would certainly yield, and we should have them without bloodshed. I\nliked this proposal, provided it was done while we were near enough to\ncome up to them before they could load their pieces again. But this\nevent did not happen; and we lay still a long time, very irresolute what\ncourse to take. At length I told them there would be nothing done, in my\nopinion, till night; and then, if they did not return to the boat,\nperhaps we might find a way to get between them and the shore, and so\nmight use some stratagem with them in the boat to get them on shore. We\nwaited a great while, though very impatient for their removing; and were\nvery uneasy, when, after long consultations, we saw them all start up,\nand march down towards the sea: it seems they had such dreadful\napprehensions upon them of the danger of the place, that they resolved\nto go on board the ship again, give their companions over for lost, and\nso go on with their intended voyage with the ship.\nAs soon as I perceived them to go towards the shore, I imagined it to\nbe, as it really was, that they had given over their search, and were\nfor going back again; and the captain, as soon as I told him my\nthoughts, was ready to sink at the apprehensions of it: but I presently\nthought of a stratagem to fetch them back again, and which answered my\nend to a tittle. I ordered Friday and the captain's mate to go over the\nlittle creek westward, towards the place where the savages came on shore\nwhen Friday was rescued, and as soon as they came to a little rising\nground, at about half a mile distance, I bade them halloo out, as loud\nas they could, and wait till they found the seamen heard them; that as\nsoon as ever they heard the seamen answer them, they should return it\nagain; and then keeping out of sight, take a round, always answering\nwhen the others hallooed, to draw them as far into the island, and among\nthe woods, as possible, and then wheel about again to me, by such ways\nas I directed them.\nThey were just going into the boat when Friday and the mate hallooed:\nand they presently heard them, and answering, run along the shore\nwestward, towards the voice they heard, when they were presently stopped\nby the creek, where the water being up, they could not get over, and\ncalled for the boat to come up and set them over; as, indeed, I\nexpected. When they had set themselves over, I observed that the boat\nbeing gone a good way into the creek, and, as it were, in a harbour\nwithin the land, they took one of the three men out of her, to go along\nwith them, and left only two in the boat, having fastened her to the\nstump of a little tree on the shore. This was what I wished for; and\nimmediately leaving Friday and the captain's mate to their business, I\ntook the rest with me, and crossing the creek out of their sight, we\nsurprised the two men before they were aware; one of them lying on the\nshore, and the other being in the boat. The fellow on shore was between\nsleeping and waking, and going to start up; the captain, who was\nforemost, ran in upon him, and knocked him down; and then called out to\nhim in the boat to yield, or he was a dead man. There needed very few\narguments to persuade a single man to yield, when he saw five men upon\nhim, and his comrade knocked down; besides, this was, it seems, one of\nthe three who were not so hearty in the mutiny as the rest of the crew,\nand therefore was easily persuaded not only to yield, but afterwards to\njoin very sincerely with us. In the mean time, Friday and the captain's\nmate so well managed their business with the rest, that they drew them,\nby hallooing and answering, from one hill to another, and from one wood\nto another, till they not only heartily tired them, but left them where\nthey were very sure they could not reach back to the boat before it was\ndark; and, indeed, they were heartily tired themselves also, by the time\nthey came back to us.\nWe had nothing now to do but to watch for them in the dark, and to fall\nupon them, so as to make sure work with them. It was several hours after\nFriday came back to me before they came back to their boat; and we could\nhear the foremost of them, long before they came quite up, calling to\nthose behind to come along; and could also hear them answer, and\ncomplain how lame and tired they were, and not able to come any faster;\nwhich was very welcome news to us. At length they came up to the boat:\nbut it is impossible to express their confusion when they found the boat\nfast aground in the creek, the tide ebbed out, and their two men gone.\nWe could hear them call to one another in a most lamentable manner,\ntelling one another they were got into an enchanted island; that either\nthere were inhabitants in it, and they should all be murdered, or else\nthere were devils and spirits in it, and they should be all carried away\nand devoured. They hallooed again, and called their two comrades by\ntheir names a great many times; but no answer. After some time, we could\nsee them, by the little light there was, run about, wringing their\nhands like men in despair; and that sometimes they would go and sit down\nin the boat, to rest themselves: then come ashore again, and walk about\nagain, and so the same thing over again. My men would fain have had me\ngive them leave to fall upon them at once in the dark; but I was willing\nto take them at some advantage, so to spare them, and kill as few of\nthem as I could; and especially I was unwilling to hazard the killing\nany of our men, knowing the others were very well armed. I resolved to\nwait, to see if they did not separate; and, therefore, to make sure of\nthem, I drew my ambuscade nearer, and ordered Friday and the captain to\ncreep upon their hands and feet, as close to the ground as they could,\nthat they might not be discovered, and get as near them as they could\npossibly, before they offered to fire.\nThey had not been long in that posture, when the boatswain, who was the\nprincipal ringleader of the mutiny, and had now shown himself the most\ndejected and dispirited of all the rest, came walking towards them, with\ntwo more of the crew: the captain was so eager at having this principal\nrogue so much in his power, that he could hardly have patience to let\nhim come so near as to be sure of him, for they only heard his tongue\nbefore: but when they came nearer, the captain and Friday, starting up\non their feet, let fly at them. The boatswain was killed upon the spot;\nthe next man was shot in the body, and fell just by him, though he did\nnot die till an hour or two after; and the third run for it. At the\nnoise of the fire, I immediately advanced with my whole army,\nwhich was now eight men, viz. myself, generalissimo; Friday, my\nlieutenant-general; the captain and his two men, and the three prisoners\nof war, whom we had trusted with arms. We came upon them, indeed, in the\ndark, so that they could not see our number; and I made the man they had\nleft in the boat, who was now one of us, to call them by name, to try if\nI could bring them to a parley, and so might perhaps reduce them to\nterms; which fell out just as we desired: for indeed it was easy to\nthink, as their condition then was, they would be very willing to\ncapitulate. So he calls out as loud as he could, to one of them, \"Tom\nSmith! Tom Smith!\" Tom Smith answered immediately, \"Is that Robinson?\"\nFor it seems he knew the voice. The other answered, \"Aye aye; for God's\nsake, Tom Smith, throw down your arms and yield, or you are all dead men\nthis moment.\"--\"Who must we yield to? Where are they?\" says Smith again.\n\"Here they are,\" says he; \"here's our captain and fifty men with him;\nhave been hunting you these two hours: the boatswain is killed, Will Fry\nis wounded, and I am a prisoner; and if you do not yield, you are all\nlost.\"--\"Will they give us quarter then?\" says Tom Smith, \"and we will\nyield.\"--\"I'll go and ask, if you promise to yield,\" says Robinson: so\nhe asked the captain; and the captain himself then calls out, \"You,\nSmith, you know my voice; if you lay down your arms immediately, and\nsubmit, you shall have your lives, all but Will Atkins.\"\nUpon this Will Atkins cried out, \"For God's sake, captain, give me\nquarter; what have I done? They have all been as bad as I:\" which, by\nthe way, was not true neither; for, it seems, this Will Atkins was the\nfirst man that laid hold of the captain, when they first mutinied, and\nused him barbarously, in tying his hands, and giving him injurious\nlanguage. However, the captain told him he must lay down his arms at\ndiscretion, and trust to the governor's mercy: by which he meant, me,\nfor they all called me governor. In a word, they all laid down their\narms, and begged their lives; and I sent the man that had parleyed with\nthem, and two more, who bound them all; and then my great army of fifty\nmen, which, particularly with those three, were in all but eight, came\nup and seized upon them, and upon their boat; only that I kept myself\nand one more out of sight for reasons of state.\nOur next work was to repair the boat, and think of seizing the ship: and\nas for the captain, now he had leisure to parley with them, he\nexpostulated with them upon the villany of their practices with him, and\nat length upon the further wickedness of their design, and how certainly\nit must bring them to misery and, distress in the end, and perhaps to\nthe gallows. They all appeared very penitent, and begged hard for their\nlives. As for that, he told them they were none of his prisoners, but\nthe commander's of the island; that they thought they had set him on\nshore in a barren, uninhabited island; but it had pleased God so to\ndirect them, that it was inhabited, and that the governor was an\nEnglishman; that he might hang them all there, if he pleased; but as he\nhad given them all quarter, he supposed he would send them to England,\nto be dealt with there as justice required, except Atkins, whom he was\ncommanded by the governor to advise to prepare for death, for that he\nwould be hanged in the morning.\nThough this was all but a fiction of his own, yet it had its desired\neffect: Atkins fell upon his knees, to beg the captain to intercede with\nthe governor for his life; and all the rest begged of him, for God's\nsake, that they might not be sent to England.\nIt now occurred to me, that the time of our deliverance was come, and\nthat it would be a most easy thing to bring these fellows in to be\nhearty in getting possession of the ship; so I retired in the dark from\nthem, that they might not see what kind of a governor they had, and\ncalled the captain to me: when I called, as at a good distance, one of\nthe men was ordered to speak again, and say to the captain, \"Captain,\nthe commander calls for you;\" and presently the captain replied, \"Tell\nhis excellency I am just a coming.\" This more perfectly amused them, and\nthey all believed that the commander was just by with his fifty men.\nUpon the captain's coming to me, I told him my project for seizing the\nship, which he liked wonderfully well, and resolved to put it in\nexecution the next morning. But, in order to execute it with more art,\nand to be secure of success, I told him we must divide the prisoners,\nand that he should go and take Atkins, and two more of the worst of\nthem, and send them pinioned to the cave where the others lay. This was\ncommitted to Friday, and the two men who came on shore with the captain.\nThey conveyed them to the cave, as to a prison: and it was, indeed, a\ndismal place, especially to men in their condition. The others I\nordered to my bower, as I called it, of which I have given a full\ndescription; and as it was fenced in, and they pinioned, the place was\nsecure enough, considering they were upon their behaviour.\nTo these in the morning I sent the captain, who was to enter into a\nparley with them; in a word, to try them, and tell me whether he thought\nthey might be trusted or no to go on board and surprise the ship. He\ntalked to them of the injury done him, of the condition they were\nbrought to, and that though the governor had given them quarter for\ntheir lives as to the present action, yet that if they were sent to\nEngland, they would all be hanged in chains, to be sure; but that if\nthey would join in so just an attempt as to recover the ship, he would\nhave the governor's engagement for their pardon.\nAny one may guess how readily such a proposal would be accepted by men\nin their condition; they fell down on their knees to the captain, and\npromised, with the deepest imprecations, that they would be faithful to\nhim to the last drop, and that they should owe their lives to him, and\nwould go with him all over the world; that they would own him as a\nfather as long as they lived. \"Well,\" says the captain, \"I must go and\ntell the governor what you say, and see what I can do to bring him to\nconsent to it.\" So he brought me an account of the temper he found them\nin, and that he verily believed they would be faithful. However, that we\nmight be very secure, I told him he should go back again and choose out\nthose five, and tell them, that they might see he did not want men, that\nhe would take out those five to be his assistants, and that the\ngovernor would keep the other two, and the three that were sent\nprisoners to the castle (my cave) as hostages for the fidelity of those\nfive; and that if they proved unfaithful in the execution, the five\nhostages should be hanged in chains alive on the shore. This looked\nsevere, and convinced them that the governor was in earnest: however,\nthey had no way left them but to accept it; and it was now the business\nof the prisoners, as much as of the captain, to persuade the other five\nto do their duty.\nOur strength was now thus ordered for the expedition: first, The\ncaptain, his mate, and passenger: second, Then the two prisoners of the\nfirst gang, to whom, having their character from the captain, I had\ngiven their liberty, and trusted them with arms: third, The other two\nthat I had kept till now in my bower pinioned, but, on the captain's\nmotion, had now released: fourth, These five released at last: so that\nthey were twelve in all, besides five we kept prisoners in the cave\nfor hostages.\nI asked the captain if he was willing to venture with these hands on\nboard the ship: but as for me and my man Friday, I did not think it was\nproper for us to stir, having seven men left behind; and it was\nemployment enough for us to keep them asunder, and supply them with\nvictuals. As to the five in the cave, I resolved to keep them fast, but\nFriday went in twice a day to them, to supply them with necessaries; and\nI made the other two carry provisions to a certain distance, where\nFriday was to take it.\nWhen I showed myself to the two hostages, it was with the captain, who\ntold them I was the person the governor had ordered to look after them:\nand that it was the governor's pleasure they should not stir any where\nbut by my direction; that if they did, they would be fetched into the\ncastle, and be laid in irons: so that as we never suffered them to see\nme as a governor, I now appeared as another person, and spoke of the\ngovernor, the garrison, the castle, and the like, upon all occasions.\nThe captain now had no difficulty before him, but to furnish his two\nboats, stop the breach of one, and man them. He made his passenger\ncaptain of one, with four of the men; and himself, his mate, and five\nmore, went in the other; and they contrived their business very well,\nfor they came up to the ship about midnight. As soon as they came within\ncall of the ship, he made Robinson hail them, and tell them they had\nbrought off the men and the boat, but that it was a long time before\nthey had found them, and the like, holding them in a chat till they came\nto the ship's side; when the captain and the mate entering first, with\ntheir arms, immediately knocked down the second mate and carpenter with\nthe but end of their muskets, being very faithfully seconded by their\nmen; they secured all the rest that were upon the mainland quarterdecks,\nand began to fasten the hatches, to keep them down that were below; when\nthe other boat and their men entering at the fore-chains, secured the\nforecastle of the ship, and the scuttle which went down into the\ncook-room, making three men they found there prisoners. When this was\ndone, and all safe upon deck, the captain ordered the mate, with three\nmen, to break into the round-house, where the new rebel captain lay, who\nhaving taken the alarm, had got up, and with two men and a boy had got\nfire-arms in their hands; and when the mate, with a crow, split open the\ndoor, the new captain and his men fired boldly among them, and wounded\nthe mate with a musket ball, which broke his arm, and wounded two more\nof the men, but killed nobody. The mate calling for help, rushed,\nhowever, into the round-house, wounded as he was, and with his pistol\nshot the new captain through the head, the bullet entering at his mouth,\nand came out again behind one of his ears, so that he never spoke a word\nmore: upon which the rest yielded, and the ship was taken effectually,\nwithout any more lives lost.\nAs soon as the ship was thus secured, the: captain ordered seven guns to\nbe fired, which was the signal agreed upon with me to give me notice of\nhis success, which you may be sure I was very glad to hear, having sat\nwatching upon the shore for it till near two o'clock in the morning.\nHaving thus heard the signal plainly, I laid me down; and it having been\na day of great fatigue to me, I slept very sound, till I was something\nsurprised with the noise of a gun; and presently starting up, I heard a\nman call me by the name of Governor, Governor, and presently I knew the\ncaptain's voice; when climbing up to the top of the hill, there he\nstood, and pointing to the ship, he embraced me in his arms. \"My dear\nfriend and deliverer,\" says he, \"there's your ship, for she is all\nyour's, and so are we, and all that belong to her.\" I cast my eyes to\nthe ship, and there she rode within little more than half a mile of the\nshore; for they had weighed her anchor as soon as they were masters of\nher, and the weather being fair, had brought her to an anchor just\nagainst the mouth of the little creek; and the tide being up, the\ncaptain had brought the pinnace in near the place where I at first\nlanded my rafts, and so landed just at my door, I was at first ready to\nsink down with the surprise; for I saw my deliverance, indeed, visibly\nput into my hands, all things easy, and a large ship just ready to carry\nme away whither I pleased to go. At first, for some time, I was not able\nto answer him one word; but as he had taken me in his arms, I held fast\nby him, or I should have fallen to the ground. He perceived the\nsurprise, and immediately pulls a bottle out of his pocket, and gave me\na dram of cordial, which he had brought on purpose for me. After I had\ndrank it, I sat down upon the ground; and though it brought me to\nmyself, yet it was a good while before I could speak a word to him. All\nthis time the poor man was in as great an ecstasy as I, only not under\nany surprise, as I was; and he said a thousand kind and tender things to\nme, to compose and bring me to myself: but such was the flood of joy in\nmy breast, that it put all my spirits into confusion; at last it broke\nout into tears; and in a little while after I recovered my speech. I\nthen took my turn, and embraced him as my deliverer, and we rejoiced\ntogether. I told him I looked upon him as a man sent from Heaven to\ndeliver me, and that the whole transaction seemed to be a chain of\nwonders; that such things as these were the testimonies we had of a\nsecret hand of Providence governing the world, and an evidence that the\neye of an infinite power could search into the remotest corner of the\nworld, and send help to the miserable whenever he pleased. I forgot not\nto lift up my heart in thankfulness to Heaven; and what heart could\nforbear to bless him, who had not only in a miraculous manner provided\nfor me in such a wilderness, and in such a desolate condition, but from\nwhom every deliverance must always be acknowledged to proceed?\nWhen we had talked a while, the captain told me he had brought me some\nlittle refreshment, such as the ship afforded, and such as the wretches\nthat had been so long his masters had not plundered him of. Upon this he\ncalled aloud to the boat, and bade his men bring the things ashore that\nwere for the governor; and, indeed, it was a present as if I had been\none that was not to be carried away with them, but as if I had been to\ndwell upon the island still. First, he had brought me a case of bottles\nfull of excellent cordial waters, six large bottles of Madeira wine,\n(the bottles held two quarts each,) two pounds of excellent good\ntobacco, twelve good pieces of the ship's beef, and six pieces of pork,\nwith a bag of peas, and about an hundred weight of biscuit: he also\nbrought me a box of sugar, a box of flour, a bag full of lemons, and two\nbottles of lime juice, and abundance of other things. But, besides\nthese, and what was a thousand times more useful to me, he brought me\nsix new clean shirts, six very good neckcloths, two pair of gloves, one\npair of shoes, a hat, and one pair of stockings, with a very good suit\nof clothes of his own, which had been worn but very little; in a word,\nhe clothed me from head to foot. It was a very kind and agreeable\npresent, as any one may imagine, to one in my circumstances; but never\nwas any thing in the world of that kind so unpleasant, awkward, and\nuneasy, as it was to me to wear such clothes at first.\nAfter these ceremonies were past, and after all his good things were\nbrought into my little apartment, we began to consult what was to be\ndone with the prisoners we had; for it was worth considering whether we\nmight venture to take them away with us or no, especially two of them,\nwhom he knew to be incorrigible and refractory to the last degree; and\nthe captain said he knew they were such rogues, that there was no\nobliging them; and if he did carry them away, it must be in irons, as\nmalefactors, to be delivered over to justice at the first English colony\nhe could come at; and I found that the captain himself was very anxious\nabout it. Upon this I told him, that if he desired it, I would undertake\nto bring the two men he spoke of to make it their own request that he\nshould leave them upon the island. \"I should be very glad of that,\" says\nthe captain, \"with all my heart.\"--\"Well,\" says I, \"I will send for\nthem up, and talk with them for you,\" So I caused Friday and the two\nhostages, for they were now discharged, their comrades having performed\ntheir promise; I say, I caused them to go to the cave, and bring up the\nfive men, pinioned as they were, to the bower, and keep them there till\nI came. After some time, I came thither dressed in my new habit; and now\nI was called governor again. Being all met, and the captain with me, I\ncaused the men to be brought before me, and I told them I had got a full\naccount of their villanous behaviour to the captain, and how they had\nrun away with the ship, and were, preparing to commit farther robberies,\nbut that Providence had ensnared them in their own ways, and that they\nwere fallen into the pit which they had dug for others. I let them know\nthat by my direction the ship had been seized; that she lay now in the\nroad; and they might see, by and by, that their new captain had received\nthe reward of his villany, and that they would see him hanging at the\nyard-arm: that as to them, I wanted to know what they had to say why I\nshould not execute them as pirates, taken in the fact, as by my\ncommission they could not doubt but I had authority so to do.\nOne of them answered in the name of the rest, that they had nothing to\nsay but this, that when they were taken, the captain promised them their\nlives, and they humbly implored my mercy. But I told them I knew not\nwhat mercy to show them; for as for myself, I had resolved to quit the\nisland with all my men, and had taken passage with the captain to go for\nEngland; and as for the captain, he could not carry them to England\nother than as prisoners, in irons, to be tried for mutiny, and running\naway with the ship; the consequence of which, they must needs know,\nwould be the gallows; so that I could not tell what was best for them,\nunless they had a mind to take their fate in the island; if they desired\nthat, as I had liberty to leave the island, I had some inclination to\ngive them their lives, if they thought they could shift on shore. They\nseemed very thankful for it, and said they would much rather venture to\nstay there than be carried to England to be hanged: so I left it on\nthat issue.\nHowever, the captain seemed to make some difficulty of it, as if he\ndurst not leave them there. Upon this I seemed a little angry with the\ncaptain, and told him that they were my prisoners, not his; and that\nseeing I had offered them so much favour, I would be as good as my word;\nand that if he did not think fit to consent to it I would set them at\nliberty, as I found them; and if he did not like it, he might take them\nagain if he could catch them. Upon this they appeared very thankful, and\nI accordingly set them at liberty, and bade them retire into the woods\nto the place whence they came, and I would leave them some fire-arms,\nsome ammunition, and some directions how they should live very well, if\nthey thought fit. Upon this I prepared to go on board the ship; but told\nthe captain I would stay that night to prepare my things, and desired\nhim to go on board, in the mean time, and keep all right in the ship,\nand send the boat on shore next day for me; ordering him, at all events,\nto cause the new captain, who was killed, to be hanged at the yard-arm,\nthat these men might see him.\nWhen the captain was gone, I sent for the men up to me to my apartment,\nand entered seriously into discourse with them on their circumstances. I\ntold them I thought they had made a right choice; that if the captain\nhad carried them away, they would certainly be hanged. I showed them the\nnew captain hanging at the yard-arm of the ship, and told them they had\nnothing less to expect.\nWhen they had all declared their willingness to stay, I then told them I\nwould let them into the story of my living there, and put them into the\nway of making it easy to them: accordingly, I gave them the whole\nhistory of the place, and of my coming to it; showed them my\nfortifications, the way I made my bread, planted my corn, cured my\ngrapes; and, in a word, all that was necessary to make them easy. I told\nthem the story also of the seventeen Spaniards that were to be expected,\nfor whom I left a letter, and made them promise to treat them in common\nwith themselves. Here it may be noted, that the captain had ink on\nboard, who was greatly surprised that I never hit upon a way of making\nink of charcoal and water, or of something else, as I had done things\nmuch more difficult.\nI left them my fire-arms, viz. five-muskets, three fowling-pieces; and\nthree swords. I had above a barrel and a half of powder left; for after\nthe first year or two I used but little, and wasted none. I gave them a\ndescription of the way I managed the goats, and directions to milk and\nfatten them, and to make both butter and cheese: in a word, I gave them\nevery part of my own story; and told them I should prevail with the\ncaptain to leave them two barrels of gunpowder more, and some garden\nseeds, which I told them I would have been very glad of: also I gave\nthem the bag of peas which the captain had brought me to eat, and bade\nthem be sure to sow and increase them.\nHaving done all this, I left them the next day, and went on board the\nship. We prepared immediately to sail, but did not weigh that night. The\nnext morning early, two of the five men came swimming to the ship's\nside, and making a most lamentable complaint of the other three, begged\nto be taken into the ship, for God's sake, for they should be murdered,\nand begged the captain to take them on board, though he hanged them\nimmediately. Upon this, the captain pretended to have no power without\nme; but after some difficulty, and after their solemn promises of\namendment, they were taken on board, and were some time after soundly\nwhipped and pickled: after which they proved very honest and\nquiet fellows.\nSome time after this, the boat was ordered on shore, the tide being up,\nwith the things promised to the men; to which the captain, at my\nintercession, caused their chests and clothes to be added, which they\ntook, and were very thankful for. I also encouraged them, by telling\nthem that if it lay in my power to send any vessel to take them in, I\nwould not forget them.\nWhen I took leave of this island, I carried on board, for reliques, the\ngreat goat-skin cap I had made, my umbrella, and one of my parrots; also\nI forgot not to take the money I formerly mentioned, which had lain by\nme so long useless, that it was grown rusty or tarnished, and could\nhardly pass for silver, till it had been a little rubbed and handled; as\nalso the money I found in the wreck of the Spanish ship. And thus I left\nthe island, the 19th of December, as I found by the ship's account, in\nthe year 1686, after I had been upon it eight and twenty years, two\nmonths, and nineteen days; being delivered from this second captivity\nthe same day of the month that I first made my escape in the long-boat,\nfrom among the Moors of Sallee. In this vessel, after a long voyage, I\narrived in England the 11th of June, in the year 1687, having been\nthirty-five years absent.\nWhen I came to England, I was as perfect a stranger to all the world as\nif I had never been known there. My benefactor and faithful steward,\nwhom I had left my money in trust with, was alive, but had had great\nmisfortunes in the world; was become a widow the second time, and very\nlow in the world. I made her very easy as to what she owed me, assuring\nher I would give her no trouble; but on the contrary, in gratitude for\nher former care and faithfulness to me, I relieved her as my\nlittle-stock would afford; which, at that time, would indeed allow me to\ndo but little for her; but I assured her I would never forget her former\nkindness to me; nor did I forget her when I had sufficient to help her,\nas shall be observed in its proper place. I went down afterwards into\nYorkshire; but my father was dead, and my mother and all the family\nextinct, except that I found two sisters, and two of the children of one\nof my brothers; and as I had been long ago given over for dead, there\nhad been no provision made for me: so that, in a word, I found nothing\nto relieve or assist me; and that the little money I had would not do\nmuch for me as to settling in the world.\nI met with one piece of gratitude, indeed, which I did not expect; and\nthis was, that the master of the ship whom I had so happily delivered,\nand by the same means saved the ship and cargo, having given a very\nhandsome account to the owners of the manner how I had saved the lives\nof the men, and the ship, they invited me to meet them, and some other\nmerchants concerned, and all together made me a very handsome compliment\nupon the subject, and a present of almost \u00a3200 sterling.\nBut after making several reflections upon the circumstances of my life,\nand how little way this would go towards settling me in the world, I\nresolved to go to Lisbon, and see if I might not come by some\ninformation of the state of my plantation in the Brazils, and of what\nwas become of my partner, who, I had reason to suppose, had some years\npast given me over for dead. With this view I took shipping for Lisbon,\nwhere I arrived in April following; my man Friday accompanying me very\nhonestly in all these ramblings, and proving a most faithful servant\nupon all occasions. When I came to Lisbon, I found out, by inquiry, and\nto my particular satisfaction, my old friend the captain of the ship who\nfirst took me up at sea off the shore of Africa. He was now grown old,\nand had left off going to sea, having put his son, who was far from a\nyoung man, into his ship, and who still used the Brazil trade. The old\nman did not know me; and, indeed, I hardly knew him: but I soon brought\nhim to my remembrance, and as soon brought myself to his remembrance,\nwhen I told him who I was.\nAfter some passionate expressions of the old acquaintance between us, I\ninquired, you may be sure, after my plantation and my partner. The old\nman told me he had not been in the Brazils for about nine years; but\nthat he could assure me, that when he came away my partner was living;\nbut the trustees, whom I had joined with him to take cognizance of my\npart, were both dead: that, however, he believed I would have a very\ngood account of the improvement of the plantation; for that upon the\ngeneral belief of my being cast away and drowned, my trustees had given\nin the account of the produce of my part of the plantation to the\nprocurator-fiscal, who had appropriated it, in case I never came to\nclaim it, one-third to the king, and two-thirds to the monastery of St.\nAugustine, to be expended for the benefit of the poor, and for the\nconversion of the Indians to the Catholic faith; but that if I appeared,\nor any one for me, to claim the inheritance, it would be restored; only\nthat the improvement or annual production, being distributed to\ncharitable uses, could not be restored: but he assured me that the\nsteward of the king's revenue from lands, and the provedore, or steward\nof the monastery, had taken great care all along that the incumbent,\nthat is to say, my partner, gave every year a faithful account of the\nproduce, of which they had duly received my moiety. I asked him if he\nknew to what height of improvement he had brought the plantation, and\nwhether he thought it might be worth looking after; or whether, on my\ngoing thither, I should meet with any obstruction to my possessing my\njust right in the moiety. He told me he could not tell exactly to what\ndegree the plantation was improved; but this he knew, that my partner\nwas grown exceeding rich upon the enjoying his part of it; and that, to\nthe best of his remembrance, he had heard that the king's third of my\npart, which was, it seems, granted away to some other monastery or\nreligious house, amounted to above two hundred moidores a year: that as\nto my being restored to a quiet possession of it, there was no question\nto be made of that, my partner being alive to witness my title, and my\nname being also enrolled in the register of the country; also he told\nme, that the survivors of my two trustees were very fair honest people,\nand very wealthy; and he believed I would hot only have their assistance\nfor putting me in possession, but would find a very considerable sum of\nmoney in their hands for my account, being the produce of the farm while\ntheir fathers held the trust, and before it was given up, as above;\nwhich, as he remembered, was for about twelve years.\nI showed myself a little concerned and uneasy at this account, and\ninquired of the old captain how it came to pass that the trustees should\nthus dispose of my effects, when he knew that I had made my will, and\nhad made him, the Portuguese captain, my universal heir, &c.\nHe told me that was true; but that as there was no proof of my being\ndead, he could not act as executor, until some certain account should\ncome of my death; and, besides, he was not willing to intermeddle with a\nthing so remote: that it was true he had registered my will, and put in\nhis claim; and could he have given any account of my being dead or\nalive, he would have acted by procuration, and taken possession of the\ningeino, (so they called the sugar-house) and have given his son, who\nwas now at the Brazils, orders to do it. \"But,\" says the old man, \"I\nhave one piece of news to tell you, which perhaps may not be so\nacceptable to you as the rest; and that is, believing you were lost, and\nall the world believing so also, your partner and trustees did offer to\naccount with me, in your name, for six or eight of the first years'\nprofits, which I received. There being at that time great disbursements\nfor increasing the works, building an ingeino, and buying slaves, it did\nnot amount to near so much as afterwards it produced: however,\" says the\nold man, \"I shall give you a true account of what I have received in\nall, and how I have disposed of it.\"\nAfter a few days' farther conference with this ancient friend, he\nbrought me an account of the first six years' income of my plantation,\nsigned by my partner and the merchant-trustees, being always delivered\nin goods, viz. tobacco in roll, and sugar in chests, besides rum,\nmolasses, &c. which is the consequence of a sugar-work; and I found, by\nthis account, that every year the income considerably increased; but, as\nabove, the disbursements being large, the sum at first was small:\nhowever, the old man let me see that he was debtor to me four hundred\nand seventy moidores of gold, besides sixty chests of sugar, and fifteen\ndouble rolls of tobacco, which were lost in his ship; he having been\nshipwrecked coming home to Lisbon, about eleven years after my leaving\nthe place. The good man then began to complain of his misfortunes, and\nhow he had been obliged to make use of my money to recover his losses,\nand buy him a share in a new ship. \"However, my old friend,\" says he,\n\"you shall not want a supply in your necessity; and as soon as my son\nreturns, you shall be fully satisfied.\" Upon this, he pulls out an old\npouch, and gives me one hundred and sixty Portugal moidores in gold; and\ngiving the writings of his title to the ship, which his son was gone to\nthe Brazils in, of which he was a quarter-part owner, and his son\nanother, he puts them both into my hands for security of the rest.\nI was too much moved with the honesty and kindness of the poor man to be\nable to bear this; and remembering what he had done for me, how he had\ntaken me up at sea, and how generously he had used me on all occasions,\nand particularly how sincere a friend he was now to me, I could hardly\nrefrain weeping at what he had said to me; therefore I asked him if his\ncircumstances admitted him to spare so much money at that time, and if\nit would not straiten him? He told me he could not say but it might\nstraiten him a little; but, however, it was my money, and I might want\nit more than he.\nEvery thing the good man said was full of affection, and I could hardly\nrefrain from tears while he spoke; in short, I took one hundred of the\nmoidores, and called for a pen and ink to give him a receipt for them:\nthen I returned him the rest, and told him if ever I had possession of\nthe plantation, I would return the other to him also, (as, indeed, I\nafterwards did;) and that as to the bill of sale of his part in his\nson's ship, I would not take it by any means; but that if I wanted the\nmoney, I found he was honest enough to pay me; and if I did not, but\ncame to receive what he gave me reason to expect, I would never have a\npenny more from him.\nWhen this was past, the old man asked me if he should put me into a\nmethod to make my claim to my plantation? I told him I thought to go\nover to it myself. He said I might do so if I pleased; but that if I did\nnot, there were ways enough to secure my right, and immediately to\nappropriate the profits to my use: and as there were ships in the river\nof Lisbon just ready to go away to Brazil, he made me enter my name in a\npublic register, with his affidavit, affirming, upon oath, that I was\nalive, and that I was the same person who took up the land for the\nplanting the said plantation at first. This being regularly attested by\na notary, and a procuration affixed, he directed me to send it, with a\nletter of his writing, to a merchant of his acquaintance at the place;\nand then proposed my staying with him till an account came of\nthe return.\nNever was any thing more honourable than the proceedings upon this\nprocuration; for in less than seven months I received a large packet\nfrom the survivors of my trustees, the merchants, for whose account I\nwent to sea, in which were the following particular letters and\npapers enclosed.\nFirst, There was the account-current of the produce of my farm or\nplantation, from the year when their fathers had balanced with my old\nPortugal captain, being for six years; the balance appeared to be one\nthousand one hundred and seventy-four moidores in my favour.\nSecondly, There was the account of four years more, while they kept the\neffects in their hands, before the government claimed the\nadministration, as being the effects of a person not to be found, which\nthey called civil death; and the balance of this, the value of the\nplantation increasing, amounted to nineteen thousand four hundred and\nforty-six crusadoes, being about three thousand two hundred and\nforty moidores.\nThirdly, There was the prior of Augustine's account, who had received\nthe profits for above fourteen years; but not being to account for what\nwas disposed of by the hospital, very honestly declared he had eight\nhundred and seventy-two moidores not distributed, which he acknowledged\nto my account: as to the king's part, that refunded nothing.\nThere was a letter of my partner's, congratulating me very\naffectionately upon my being alive, giving me an account how the estate\nwas improved, and what it produced a year; with a particular of the\nnumber of squares or acres that it contained, how planted, how many\nslaves there were upon it, and making two and twenty crosses for\nblessings, told me he had said so many _Ave Marias_ to thank the blessed\nVirgin that I was alive; inviting me very passionately to come over and\ntake possession of my own; and, in the mean time, to give him orders to\nwhom he should deliver my effects, if I did not come myself; concluding\nwith a hearty tender of his friendship, and that of his family; and sent\nme, as a present, seven fine leopards' skins, which he had, it seems,\nreceived from Africa, by some other ship that he had sent thither, and\nwho, it seems, had made a better voyage than I. He sent me also five\nchests of excellent sweetmeats, and a hundred pieces of gold uncoined,\nnot quite so large as moidores. By the same fleet, my two\nmerchant-trustees shipped me one thousand two hundred chests of sugar,\neight hundred rolls of tobacco, and the rest of the whole account\nin gold.\nI might well say now, indeed, that the latter end of Job was better than\nthe beginning. It is impossible to express the flutterings of my very\nheart when I found all my wealth about me; for as the Brazil ships come\nall in fleets, the same ships which brought my letters brought my goods:\nand the effects were safe in the river before the letters came to my\nhand. In a word, I turned pale, and grew sick; and had not the old man\nrun and fetched me a cordial, I believe the sudden surprise of joy had\noverset nature, and I had died upon the spot: nay, after that, I\ncontinued very ill, and was so some hours till a physician being sent\nfor, and something of the real cause of my illness being known, he\nordered me to be let blood; after which I had relief, and grew well: but\nI verily believe, if I had not been eased by a vent given in that manner\nto the spirits, I should have died.\nI was now master, all on a sudden, of above five thousand pounds\nsterling in money, and had an estate, as I might well call it, in the\nBrazils, of above a thousand pounds a year, as sure as an estate of\nlands in England; and, in a word, I was in a condition which I scarce\nknew how to understand, or how to compose myself for the enjoyment of\nit. The first thing I did was to recompense my original benefactor, my\ngood old captain, who had been first charitable to me in my distress,\nkind to me in my beginning, and honest to me at the end. I showed him\nall that was sent to me; I told him, that next to the providence of\nHeaven, which disposed all things, it was owing to him; and that it now\nlay on me to reward him, which I would do a hundredfold: so I first\nreturned to him the hundred moidores I had received of him; then I sent\nfor a notary, and caused him to draw up a general release or discharge\nfrom the four hundred and seventy moidores, which he had acknowledged he\nowed me, in the fullest and firmest manner possible. After which I\ncaused a procuration to be drawn, empowering him to be my receiver of\nthe annual profits of my plantation, and appointing my partner to\naccount with him, and make the returns by the usual fleets to him in my\nname; and a clause in the end, being a grant of one hundred moidores a\nyear to him during his life, out of the effects, and fifty moidores a\nyear to his son after him, for his life: and thus I requited my old man.\nI was now to consider which way to steer my course next, and what to do\nwith the estate that Providence had thus put into my hands; and, indeed,\nI had more care upon my head now than I had in my silent state of life\nin the island, where I wanted nothing but what I had, and had nothing\nbut what I wanted; whereas I had now a great charge upon me, and my\nbusiness was how to secure it. I had never a cave now to hide my money\nin, or a place where it might lie without lock or key, till it grew\nmouldy and tarnished before any body would meddle with it: on the\ncontrary, I knew not where to put it, or whom to trust with it. My old\npatron, the captain, indeed, was honest, and that was the only refuge I\nhad. In the next place, my interest in the Brazils seemed to summon me\nthither; but now I could not tell how to think of going thither till I\nhad settled my affairs, and left my effects in some safe hands behind\nme. At first I thought of my old friend the widow, who I knew was\nhonest, and would be just to me; but then she was in years, and but\npoor, and, for aught. I knew, might be in debt; so that, in a word, I\nhad no way but to go back to England myself, and take my effects\nwith me.\nIt was some months, however, before I resolved upon this; and therefore,\nas I had rewarded the old captain fully, and to his satisfaction, who\nhad been my former benefactor, so I began to think of my poor widow,\nwhose husband had been my first benefactor, and she, while it was in her\npower, my faithful steward and instructor. So the first thing I did, I\ngot a merchant in Lisbon to write to his correspondent in London, not\nonly to pay a bill, but to go find her out, and carry her in money a\nhundred pounds from me, and to talk with her, and comfort her in her\npoverty, by telling her she should, if I lived, have a further supply:\nat the same time I sent my two sisters in the country a hundred pounds,\neach, they being, though not in want, yet not in very good\ncircumstances; one having been married and left a widow; and the other\nhaving a husband not so kind to her as he should be. But among all my\nrelations or acquaintances, I could not yet pitch upon one to whom I\ndurst commit the gross of my stock, that I might go away to the\nBrazils, and leave things safe behind me; and this greatly perplexed me.\nI had once a mind to have gone to the Brazils, and have settled myself\nthere, for I was, as it were, naturalized to the place; but I had some\nlittle scruple in my mind about religion, which insensibly drew me back.\nHowever, it was not religion that kept me from going there for the\npresent; and as I had made no scruple of being openly of the religion of\nthe country all the while I was among them, so neither did I yet; only\nthat, now and then, having of late thought more of it than formerly,\nwhen I began to think of living and dying among them, I began to regret\nmy having professed myself a papist, and thought it might not be the\nbest religion to die with.\nBut, as I have said, this was not the main thing that kept me from going\nto the Brazils, but that really I did not know with whom to leave my\neffects behind me; so I resolved, at last, to go to England with it,\nwhere, if I arrived, I concluded I should make some acquaintance, or\nfind some relations that would be faithful to me; and, accordingly, I\nprepared to go to England with all my wealth.\nIn order to prepare tilings for my going home, I first, the Brazil fleet\nbeing just going away, resolved to give answers suitable to the just and\nfaithful account of things I had from thence; and, first, to the prior\nof St. Augustine I wrote a letter full of thanks for their just\ndealings, and the offer of the eight hundred and seventy-two moidores\nwhich were undisposed of, which I desired might be given, five hundred\nto the monastery, and three hundred and seventy-two to the poor, as the\nprior should direct; desiring the good padre's prayers for me, and the\nlike. I wrote next a letter of thanks to my two trustees, with all the\nacknowledgment that so much justice and honesty called for; as for\nsending them any present, they were far above having any occasion for\nit. Lastly, I wrote to my partner, acknowledging his industry in the\nimproving the plantation, and his integrity in increasing the stock of\nthe, works; giving him instructions for his future government of my\npart, according to the powers I had left with my old patron, to whom I\ndesired him to send whatever became due to me, till he should hear from\nme more particularly; assuring him that it was my intention not only to\ncome to him, but to settle myself there for the remainder of my life. To\nthis I added a very handsome present of some Italian silks for his wife\nand two daughters, for such the captain's son informed me he had; with\ntwo pieces of fine English broad-cloth, the best I could get in Lisbon,\nfive pieces of black baize, and some Flanders lace of a good value.\nHaving thus settled my affairs, sold my cargo, and turned all my effects\ninto good bills of exchange, my next difficulty was, which way to go to\nEngland: I had been accustomed enough to the sea, and yet I had a\nstrange aversion to go to England by sea at that time; and though I\ncould give no reason for it, yet the difficulty increased upon me so\nmuch, that though I had once shipped my baggage in order to go, yet I\naltered my mind, and that not once, but two or three times.\nIt is true; I had been very unfortunate by sea, and this might be some\nof the reasons; but let no man slight the strong impulses of his own\nthoughts in cases of such moment: two of the ships which I had singled\nout to go in, I mean more particularly singled out than any other,\nhaving put my things on board one of them, and in the other to have\nagreed with the captain; I say, two of these ships miscarried, viz. one\nwas taken by the Algerines, and the other was cast away on the Start,\nnear Torbay, and all the people drowned, except three; so that in either\nof those vessels I had been made miserable.\nHaving been thus harassed in my thoughts, my old pilot, to whom I\ncommunicated every thing, pressed me earnestly not to go by sea, but\neither to go by land to the Groyne, and cross over the Bay of Biscay to\nRochelle, from whence it was but an easy and safe journey by land to\nParis, and so to Calais and Dover; or to go up to Madrid, and so all the\nway by laud through France. In a word, I was so prepossessed against my\ngoing by sea at all, except from Calas to Dover, that I resolved to\ntravel all the way by land; which, as I was not in haste, and did not\nvalue the charge, was by much the pleasanter way: and to make it more\nso, my old captain brought an English gentleman, the son of a merchant\nin Lisbon, who was willing to travel with me; after which we picked up\ntwo more English merchants also, and two young Portuguese gentlemen, the\nlast going to Paris only; so that in all there were six of us, and five\nservants; the two merchants and the two Portuguese contenting themselves\nwith one servant between two, to save the charge; and as for me, I got\nan English sailor to travel with me as a servant, besides my man Friday,\nwho was too much a stranger to be capable of supplying the place of a\nservant on the road.\nIn this manner I set out from Lisbon; and our company being very well\nmounted and armed, we made a little troop, whereof they did me the\nhonour to call me captain, as well because I was the oldest man, as\nbecause I had two servants, and, indeed, was the original of the\nwhole journey.\nAs I have troubled you with none of my sea journals, so I shall trouble\nyou now with none of my land journal; but some adventures that happened\nto us in this tedious and difficult journey I must not omit.\nWhen we came to Madrid, we being all of us strangers to Spain, were\nwilling to stay some time to see the court of Spain, and to see what was\nworth observing; but it being the latter part of the summer, we hastened\naway, and set out from Madrid about the middle of October; but when we\ncame to the edge of Navarre, we were alarmed, at several towns on the\nway, with an account that so much snow was fallen on the French side of\nthe mountains, that several travellers were obliged to come back to\nPampeluna, after having attempted, at an extreme hazard, to pass on.\nWhen we came to Pampeluna itself, we found it so indeed; and to me, that\nhad been always used to a hot climate, and to countries where I could\nscarce bear any clothes on, the cold was insufferable: nor, indeed, was\nit more painful than surprising, to come but ten days before out of Old\nCastile, where the weather was not only warm, but very hot, and\nimmediately to feel a wind from the Pyrenean mountains so very keen, so\nseverely cold, as to be intolerable, and to endanger benumbing and\nperishing of our fingers and toes.\nPoor Friday was really frightened when he saw the mountains all covered\nwith snow, and felt cold weather, which he had never seen or felt before\nin his life. To mend the matter, when we came to Pampeluna, it continued\nsnowing with so much violence, and so long, that the people said winter\nwas come before its time; and the roads, which were difficult before,\nwere now quite impassable; for, in a word, the snow lay in some places\ntoo thick for us to travel, and being not hard frozen, as is the case in\nthe northern countries, there was no going without being in danger of\nbeing buried alive every step. We stayed no less than twenty days at\nPampeluna; when seeing the winter coming on, and no likelihood of its\nbeing better, for it was the severest winter all over Europe that had\nbeen known in the memory of man, I proposed that we should all go away\nto Fontarabia, and there take shipping for Bourdeaux, which was a very\nlittle voyage. But while I was considering this, there came in four\nFrench gentlemen, who having been stopped on the French side of the\npasses, as we were on the Spanish, had found out a guide, who,\ntraversing the country near the head of Languedoc, had brought them over\nthe mountains by such ways, that they were not much incommoded with the\nsnow; for where they met with snow in any quantity, they said it was\nfrozen hard enough to bear them and their horses. We sent, for this\nguide, who told us he would undertake to carry us the same way with no\nhazard from the snow, provided we were armed sufficiently to protect\nourselves from wild beasts; for, he said, upon these great snows it was\nfrequent for some wolves to show themselves at the foot of the\nmountains, being made ravenous for want of food, the ground being\ncovered with snow. We told him we were well enough prepared for such\ncreatures as they were, if he would ensure us from a kind of two-legged\nwolves, which, we were told, we were in most danger from, especially on\nthe French side of the mountains. He satisfied us that there was no\ndanger of that kind in the way that we were to go: so we readily agreed\nto follow him, as did also twelve other gentlemen, with their servants,\nsome French, some Spanish, who, as I said, had attempted to go, and were\nobliged to come back again.\nAccordingly, we set out from Pampeluna, with our guide, on the 15th of\nNovember; and, indeed, I was surprised, when, instead of going forward,\nhe came directly back with us on the same road that we came from Madrid,\nabout twenty miles; when having passed two rivers, and come into the\nplain country, we found ourselves in a warm climate again, where the\ncountry was pleasant, and no snow to be seen; but on a sudden, turning\nto his left, he approached the mountains another way: and though it is\ntrue the hills and precipices looked dreadful, yet he made so many\ntours, such meanders, and led us by such winding ways, that we\ninsensibly passed the height of the mountains without being much\nencumbered with the snow; and, all on a sudden, he showed us the\npleasant fruitful provinces of Languedoc and Gascony, all green and\nflourishing, though, indeed, at a great distance, and we had some rough\nway to pass still.\nWe were a little uneasy, however, when we found it snowed one whole day\nand a night so fast, that we could not travel; but he bid us be easy; we\nshould soon be past it all: we found, indeed, that we began to descend\nevery day, and to come more north than before; and so depending upon our\nguide, we went on.\nIt was about two hours before night, when our guide being something\nbefore us, and not just in sight, out rushed three monstrous wolves, and\nafter them a bear, out of a hollow way adjoining to a thick wood: two of\nthe wolves made at the guide, and had he been far before us, he would\nhave been devoured before we could have helped him; one of them fastened\nupon his horse, and the other attacked the man with that violence, that\nhe had not time, or presence of mind enough, to draw his pistol, but\nhallooed and cried out to us most lustily. My man Friday being next me,\nI bade him ride up, and see what was the matter. As soon as Friday came\nin sight of the man, he hallooed out as loud as the other, \"O master! O\nmaster!\" but, like a bold fellow, rode directly up to the poor man, and\nwith his pistol shot the wolf that attacked him in the head.\nIt was happy for the poor man that it was my man Friday; for he having\nbeen used to such creatures in his country, he had no fear upon him, but\nwent close up to him and shot him, as above; whereas any other of us\nwould have fired at a farther distance, and have perhaps either missed\nthe wolf, or endangered shooting the man.\nBut it was enough to have terrified a bolder man than I; and, indeed, it\nalarmed all our company, when, with the noise of Friday's pistol, we\nheard on both sides the most dismal howling of wolves; and the noise,\nredoubled by the echo of the mountains, appeared to us as if there had\nbeen a prodigious number of them; and perhaps there was not such a few\nas that we had no cause of apprehensions: however, as Friday had killed\nthis wolf, the other that had fastened upon the horse left him\nimmediately, and fled, without doing him any damage, having happily\nfastened upon his head, where the bosses of the bridle had stuck in his\nteeth. But the man was most hurt; for the raging creature had bit him\ntwice, once in the arm, and the other time a little above his knee; and\nthough he had made some defence, he was just as it were tumbling down by\nthe disorder of his horse, when Friday came up and shot the wolf.\nIt is easy to suppose that at the noise of Friday's pistol we all mended\nour pace, and rode up as fast as the way, which was very difficult,\nwould give us leave, to see what was the matter. As soon as we came\nclear of the trees, which blinded us before, we saw clearly what had\nbeen the case, and how Friday had disengaged the poor guide, though we\ndid not presently discern what kind of creature it was he had killed.\nBut never was a fight managed so hardily, and in such a surprising\nmanner, as that which followed between Friday and the bear, which gave\nus all, though at first we were surprised and afraid for him, the\ngreatest diversion imaginable. As the bear is a heavy clumsy creature,\nand does not gallop as the wolf does, who is swift and light, so he has\ntwo particular qualities, which generally are the rule of his actions:\nfirst, as to men, who are not his proper prey, (he does not usually\nattempt them, except they first attack him, unless he be excessive\nhungry, which it is probable might now be the case, the ground being\ncovered with snow,) if you do not meddle with him, he will not meddle\nwith you; but then you must take care to be very civil to him, and give\nhim the road, for he is a very nice gentleman; he will not go a step out\nof his way for a prince; nay, if you are really afraid, your best way is\nto look another way, and keep going on; for sometimes if you stop, and\nstand still, and look steadfastly at him, he takes it for an affront;\nbut if you throw or toss any thing at him, and it hits him, though it\nwere but a bit of stick as big as your finger, he thinks himself abused,\nand sets all other business aside to pursue his revenge, and will have\nsatisfaction in point of honour;--this is his first quality: the next\nis, if he be once affronted, he will never leave yon, night nor day,\ntill he has his revenge, but follows, at a good round rate, till he\novertakes yon.\nMy man Friday had delivered our guide, and when we came up to him, he\nwas helping him off from his horse, for the man was both hurt and\nfrightened, when, on a sudden, we espied the bear come out of the wood,\nand a vast monstrous one it was, the biggest by far that ever I saw. We\nwere all a little surprised when we saw him; but when Friday saw him,\nit was easy to see joy and courage in the fellow's countenance: \"O, O,\nO!\" says Friday, three times, pointing to him; \"O master! you give me\nte leave, me shakee te hand with him; me makee you good laugh.\"\nI was surprised to see the fellow so well pleased; \"You fool,\" says I,\n\"he will eat you up,\"--\"Eatee me up! eatee me up!\" says Friday, twice\nover again; \"me eatee him up; me' makee you good laugh; you all stay\nhere, me show you good laugh.\" So down he sits, and gets off his boots\nin a moment, and puts on a pair of pumps, (as we call the flat shoes\nthey wear, and which he had in his pocket,) gives my other servant his\nhorse, and with his gun away he flew, swift like the wind.\nThe bear was walking softly on, and offered to meddle with nobody, till\nFriday coming pretty near, calls to him, as if the bear could understand\nhim, \"Hark ye, hark ye,\" says Friday, \"me speakee with you.\" We followed\nat a distance; for now being come down on the Gaseony side of the\nmountains, we were entered a vast great forest, where the country was\nplain and pretty open, though it had many trees in it scattered here and\nthere. Friday, who had, as we say, the heels of the bear, came up with\nhim quickly, and takes up a great stone and throws it at him, and hit\nhim just on the head, but did him no more harm than if he had thrown it\nagainst a wall; but it answered Friday's end, for the rogue was so void\nof fear that he did it purely to make the bear follow him, and show us\nsome laugh, as he called it. As soon as the bear felt the blow, and saw\nhim, he turns about, and comes after him, taking devilish long strides,\nand shuffling on at a strange rate, so as would have put a horse to a\nmiddling gallop: away runs Friday, and takes his course as if he run\ntowards us for help; so we all resolved to fire at once upon the bear,\nand deliver my man; though I was angry at him heartily for bringing the\nbear back upon us, when he was going about his own business another way:\nand especially I was angry that he had turned the bear upon us, and then\nrun away; and I called out, \"You dog, is this your making us laugh? Come\naway, and take your horse, that we may shoot the creature.\" He heard me,\nand cried out, \"No shoot, no shoot; stand still, and you get much\nlaugh:\" and as the nimble creature ran two feet for the bear's one, he\nturned on a sudden, on one side of us, and seeing a great oak tree fit\nfor his purpose, he beckoned to us to follow; and doubling his pace, he\ngets nimbly up the tree, laying his gun down upon the ground, at about\nfive or six yards from the bottom of the tree. The bear soon came to the\ntree, and we followed at a distance: the first thing he did, he stopped\nat the gun, smelt to it, but let it lie, and up he scrambles into the\ntree, climbing like a cat, though so monstrous heavy. I was amazed at\nthe folly, as I thought it, of my man, and could not for my life see any\nthing to laugh at yet, till seeing the bear get up the tree, we all rode\nnear to him.\nWhen we came to the tree, there was Friday got out to the small end of a\nlarge branch, and the bear got about half way to him. As soon as the\nbear got out to that part where the limb of the tree was weaker,--\"Ha!\"\nsays he to us, \"now you see me teachee the bear dance:\" so he falls a\njumping and shaking the bough, at which the bear began to totter, but\nstood still, and began to look behind him, to see how he should get\nback; then, indeed, we did laugh heartily. But Friday had not done with\nhim by a great deal; when seeing him stand still, he calls out to him\nagain, as if he had supposed the bear could speak English, \"What, you\ncome no farther? pray you come farther:\" so he left jumping and shaking\nthe tree; and the bear, just as if he understood what he said, did come\na little farther; then he fell a jumping again, and the bear stopped\nagain. We thought now was a good time to knock him in the head, and\ncalled to Friday to stand still, and we would shoot the bear: but he\ncried out earnestly, \"O pray! O pray! no shoot, me shoot by and then;\"\nhe would have said by and by. However, to shorten the story, Friday\ndanced so much, and the bear stood so ticklish, that we had laughing\nenough, but still could not imagine what the fellow would do: for first\nwe thought he depended upon shaking the bear off; and we found the bear\nwas too cunning for that too; for he would not go out far enough to be\nthrown down, but clings fast with his great broad claws and feet, so\nthat we could not imagine what would be the end of it, and what the jest\nwould be at last. But Friday put us out of doubt quickly: for seeing the\nbear cling fast to the bough, and that he would not be persuaded to come\nany farther, \"Well, well,\" says Friday, \"you no come farther, me go; you\nno come to me, me come to you:\" and upon this he goes out to the smaller\nend of the bough, where it would bend with his weight, and gently lets\nhimself down by it, sliding down the bough, till he came near enough to\njump down on his feet, and away he runs to his gun, takes it up, and\nstands still. \"Well,\" said I to him, \"Friday, what will you do now? Why\ndon't you shoot him?\"--\"No shoot,\" says Friday, \"no yet; me shoot now,\nme no kill; me stay, give you one more laugh:\" and, indeed, so he did,\nas you will see presently; for when the bear saw his enemy gone, he\ncomes back from the bough where he stood, but did it mighty cautiously,\nlooking behind him every step, and coming backward till he got into the\nbody of the tree; then with the same hinder end foremost, he came down\nthe tree, grasping it with his claws, and moving one foot at a time,\nvery leisurely. At this juncture, and just before he could set his hind\nfoot on the ground, Friday stepped up close to him, clapped the muzzle\nof his piece into his ear, and shot him dead. Then the rogue turned\nabout to see if we did not laugh; and when he saw we were pleased, by\nour looks, he falls a laughing himself very loud. \"So we kill bear in\nmy country,\" says Friday. \"So you kill them?\" says I: \"why, you have no\nguns.\"--\"No,\" says he, \"no gun, but shoot great much long arrow.\" This\nwas a good diversion to us; but we were still in a wild place, and our\nguide very much hurt, and what to do we hardly knew: the howling of\nwolves ran much in my head; and, indeed, except the noise I once heard\non the shore of Africa, of which I have said something already, I never\nheard any thing that filled me with so much horror.\nThese things, and the approach of night, called us off, or else, as\nFriday would have had us, we should certainly have taken the skin of\nthis monstrous creature off, which was worth saving; but we had near\nthree leagues to go, and our guide hastened us; so we left him, and went\nforward on our journey.\nThe ground was still covered with snow, though not so deep and dangerous\nas on the mountains; and the ravenous creatures, as we heard afterwards,\nwere come down into the forest and plain country, pressed by hunger, to\nseek for food, and had done a great deal of mischief in the villages,\nwhere they surprised the country people, killed a great many of their\nsheep and horses, and some people too. We had one dangerous place to\npass, which our guide told us, if there were more wolves in the country\nwe should find them there; and this was a small plain, surrounded with\nwoods on every side, and a long narrow defile, or lane, which we were to\npass to get through the wood, and then we should come to the village\nwhere we were to lodge. It was within half an hour of sunset when we\nentered the first wood, and a little after sunset when we came into the\nplain; we met with nothing in the first wood, except that, in a little\nplain within the wood, which was not above two furlongs over, we saw\nfive great wolves cross the road, full speed, one after another, as if\nthey had been in chase of some prey, and had it in view; they took no\nnotice of us, and were gone out of sight in a few moments. Upon this our\nguide, who, by the way, was but a fainthearted fellow, bid us keep in a\nready posture, for he believed there were more wolves a coming. We kept\nour arms ready, and our eyes about us; but we saw no more wolves till we\ncame through that wood, which was near half a league, and entered the\nplain. As soon as we came into the plain, we had occasion enough to look\nabout us: the first object we met with was a dead horse, that is to say,\na poor horse which the wolves had killed, and at least a dozen of them\nat work, we could not say eating of him, but picking of his bones\nrather; for they had eaten up all the flesh before. We did not think fit\nto disturb them at their feast, neither did they take much notice of us.\nFriday would have let fly at them, but I would not suffer him by any\nmeans; for I found we were like to have more business upon our hands\nthan we were aware of. We were not gone half over the plain, when we\nbegan to hear the wolves howl in the wood on our left in a frightful\nmanner, and presently after we saw about a hundred coming on directly\ntowards us, all in a body, and most of them in a line, as regularly as\nan army drawn up by experienced officers. I scarce knew in what manner\nto receive them, but found, to draw ourselves in a close line was the\nonly way; so we formed in a moment: but that we might not have, too\nmuch interval, I ordered that only every other man should fire, and that\nthe others who had not fired should stand ready to give them a second\nvolley immediately, if they continued to advance upon us; and then that\nthose who had fired at first should not pretend to load their fusees\nagain, but stand ready every one with a pistol, for we were all armed\nwith a fusee and a pair of pistols each man; so we were, by this method,\nable to fire six volleys, half of us at a time: however, at present we\nhad no necessity; for upon firing the first volley, the enemy made a\nfull stop, being terrified as well with the noise as with the fire; four\nof them being shot in the head, dropped; several others were wounded,\nand went bleeding off, as we could see by the snow. I found they\nstopped, but did not immediately retreat; whereupon, remembering that I\nhad been told that the fiercest creatures were terrified at the voice of\na man, I caused all the company to halloo as loud as we could; and I\nfound the notion not altogether mistaken; for upon our shout they began\nto retire, and turn about. I then ordered a second volley to be fired in\ntheir rear, which put them to the gallop, and away they went to the\nwoods. This gave us leisure to charge our pieces again; and that we\nmight lose no time, we kept going: but we had but little more than\nloaded our fusees, and put ourselves in readiness, when we heard a\nterrible noise in the same wood, on our left, only that it was farther\nonward, the same way we were to go.\nThe night was coming on, and the light began to be dusky, which made it\nworse on our side; but the noise increasing, we could easily perceive\nthat it was the howling and yelling of those hellish creatures; and, on\na sudden, we perceived two or three troops of wolves, one on our left,\none behind us, and one in our front, so that we seemed to be surrounded\nwith them: however, as they did not fall upon us, we kept our way\nforward, as fast as we could make our horses go, which, the way being\nvery rough, was only a good hard trot. In this manner we came in view of\nthe entrance of a wood, through which we were to pass, at the farther\nside of the plain; but we were greatly surprised, when coming nearer the\nlane or pass, we saw a confused number of wolves standing just at the\nentrance. On a sudden, at another opening of the wood, we heard the\nnoise of a gun, and looking that way, out rushed a horse, with a saddle\nand a bridle on him, flying like the wind, and sixteen or seventeen\nwolves after him, full speed; indeed the horse had the heels of them,\nbut as we supposed that he could not hold it at that rate, we doubted\nnot but they would get up with him at last; no question but they did.\nBut here we had a most horrible sight; for riding up to the entrance\nwhere the horse came out, we found the carcasses of another horse and of\ntwo men, devoured by the ravenous creatures; and one of the men was no\ndoubt the same whom we heard fire the gun, for there lay a gun just by\nhim fired off; but as to the man, his head and the upper part of his\nbody were eaten up. This filled us with horror, and we knew not what\ncourse to take; but the creatures resolved us soon, for they gathered\nabout us presently, in hopes of prey; and I verily believe there were\nthree hundred of them. It happened very much to our advantage, that at\nthe entrance into the wood, but a little way from it, there lay some\nlarge timber-trees, which had been cut down the summer before, and I\nsuppose lay there for carriage. I drew my little troop in among those\ntrees, and placing ourselves in a line behind one long tree, I advised\nthem all to alight, and keeping that tree before us for a breastwork, to\nstand in a triangle, or three fronts, enclosing our horses in the\ncentre. We did so, and it was well we did; for never was a more furious\ncharge than the creatures made upon us in this place. They came on with\na growling kind of noise, and mounted the piece of timber, which, as I\nsaid, was our breastwork, as if they were only rushing upon their prey;\nand this fury of theirs, it seems, was principally occasioned by their\nseeing our horses behind us. I ordered our men to fire as before, every\nother man; and they took their aim so sure, that they killed several of\nthe wolves at the first volley; but there was a necessity to keep a\ncontinual firing, for they came on like devils, those behind pushing on\nthose before.\nWhen we had fired a second volley of our fusees, we thought they stopped\na little, and I hoped they would have gone off, but it was but a moment,\nfor others came forward again; so we fired two volleys of our pistols;\nand I believe in these four firings we had killed seventeen or eighteen\nof them, and lamed twice as many, yet they came on again. I was loath to\nspend our shot too hastily; so I called my servant, not my man Friday,\nfor he was better employed, for, with the greatest dexterity imaginable,\nhe had charged my fusee and his own while we were engaged; but, as I\nsaid, I called my other man, and giving him a horn of powder, I bade him\nlay a train all along the piece of timber, and let it be a large train.\nHe did so; and had but just time to get away, when the wolves came up to\nit, and some got upon it, when I, snapping an uncharged pistol close to\nthe powder, set it on fire: those that were upon the timber were\nscorched with it, and six or seven of them fell, or rather jumped in\namong us, with the force and fright of the fire; we dispatched these in\nan instant, and the rest were so frightened with the light, which the\nnight, for it was now very near dark, made more terrible, that they drew\nback a little; upon which I ordered our last pistols to be fired off in\none volley, and after that we gave a shout: upon this the wolves turned\ntail, and we sallied immediately upon near twenty lame ones, that we\nfound struggling on the ground, and fell a cutting them with our\nswords, which answered our expectation; for the crying and howling they\nmade was better understood by their fellows; so that they all fled\nand left us.\nWe had, first and last, killed about threescore of them; and had it been\ndaylight, we had killed many more. The field of battle being thus\ncleared, we made forward again, for we had still near a league to go. We\nheard the ravenous creatures howl and yell in the woods as we went,\nseveral times, and sometimes we fancied we saw some of them, but the\nsnow dazzling our eyes, we were not certain: in about an hour more we\ncame to the town where we were to lodge, which we found in a terrible\nfright, and all in arms; for, it seems, the night before, the wolves and\nsome bears had broke into the village, and put them in such terror, that\nthey were obliged to keep guard night and day, but especially in the\nnight, to preserve their cattle, and, indeed, their people.\nThe next morning our guide was so ill, and his limbs swelled so much\nwith the rankling of his two wounds, that he could go no farther; so we\nwere obliged to take a new guide here, and go to Thoulouse, where we\nfound a warm climate, a fruitful pleasant country, and no snow, no\nwolves, nor any thing like them: but when we told our story at\nThoulouse, they told us it was nothing but what was ordinary in the\ngreat forest at the foot of the mountains, especially when the snow lay\non the ground; but they inquired much what kind of a guide we had got,\nwho would venture to bring us that way in such a severe season; and told\nus it was surprising we were not all devoured. When we told them how we\nplaced ourselves, and the horses in the middle, they blamed us\nexceedingly, and told us it was fifty to one but we had been all\ndestroyed; for it was the sight of the horses which made the wolves so\nfurious, seeing their prey; and that, at other times, they are really\nafraid of a gun; but being excessive hungry, and raging on that account,\nthe eagerness to come at the horses had made them senseless of danger;\nand that if we had not, by the continued fire, and at last by the\nstratagem of the train of powder, mastered them, it had been great odds\nbut that we had been torn to pieces: whereas, had we been content to\nhave sat still on horseback, and fired as horsemen, they would not have\ntaken the horses so much for their own, when men were on their backs, as\notherwise; and withal they told us, that at last, if we had stood all\ntogether, and left our horses, they would have been so eager to have\ndevoured them, that we might have come off safe, especially having our\nfire-arms in our hands, and being so many in number. For my part, I was\nnever so sensible of danger in my life; for seeing above three hundred\ndevils come roaring and open-mouthed to devour us, and having nothing to\nshelter us, or retreat to, I gave myself over for lost; and, as it was,\nI believe I shall never care to cross those mountains again; I think I\nwould much rather go a thousand leagues by sea, though I was sure to\nmeet with a storm once a week.\nI have nothing uncommon to take notice of in my passage through France,\nnothing but what other travellers have given an account of, with much\nmore advantage than I can. I travelled from Thoulouse to Paris, and\nwithout any considerable stay came to Calais, and landed safe at Dover,\nthe 14th of Jan. after having a severe cold season to travel in.\nI was now come to the centre of my travels, and had in a little time all\nmy new-discovered estate safe about me; the bills of exchange which I\nbrought with me having been very currently paid.\nMy principal guide and privy counsellor was my good ancient widow; who,\nin gratitude for the money I had sent her, thought no pains too much,\nnor care too great, to employ for me; and I trusted her so entirely with\nevery thing, that I was perfectly easy as to the security of my effects:\nand, indeed, I was very happy from the beginning, and now to the end, in\nthe unspotted integrity of this good gentlewoman.\nAnd now having resolved to dispose of my plantation in the Brazils, I\nwrote to my old friend at Lisbon; who having offered it to the two\nmerchants, the survivors of my trustees, who lived in the Brazils, they\naccepted the offer, and remitted thirty-three thousand pieces-of-eight\nto a correspondent of theirs at Lisbon, to pay for it.\nIn return, I signed the instrument of sale in the form which they sent\nfrom Lisbon, and sent it to my old man, who sent me the bills of\nexchange for 32,800 pieces-of-eight for the estate; reserving the\npayment of 100 moidores a year to him (the old man) during his life, and\n50 moidores afterwards to his son for his life, which I had promised\nthem; and which the plantation was to make good as a rent-charge. And\nthus I have given the first part of a life of fortune and adventure, a\nlife of Providence's chequer-work, and of a variety which the world will\nseldom be able to show the like of: beginning foolishly, but closing\nmuch more happily than any part of it ever gave me leave so much as\nto hope for.\nAny one would think, that in this state of complicated good fortune, I\nwas past running any more hazards, and so indeed I had been, if other\ncircumstances had concurred: but I was inured to a wandering life, had\nno family, nor many relations; nor, however rich, had I contracted much\nacquaintance; and though I had sold my estate in the Brazils, yet I\ncould not keep that country out of my head, and had a great mind to be\nupon the wing again; especially I could not resist the strong\ninclination I had to see my island, and to know if the poor Spaniards\nwere in being there. My true friend, the widow, earnestly dissuaded me\nfrom it, and so far prevailed with me, that, for almost seven years, she\nprevented my running abroad; during which time I took my two nephews,\nthe children of one of my brothers, into my care: the eldest having\nsomething of his own, I bred up as a gentleman, and gave him a\nsettlement of some addition to his estate, after my decease. The other I\nput out to a captain of a ship: and after five years, finding him a\nsensible, bold, enterprising young fellow, I put him into a good ship,\nand sent him to sea: and this young fellow afterwards drew me in, as old\nas I was, to farther adventures myself.\nIn the mean time, I in part settled myself here; for, first of all, I\nmarried, and that not either to my disadvantage or dissatisfaction, and\nhad three children, two sons and one daughter; but my wife dying, and my\nnephew coming home with good success from a voyage to Spain, my\ninclination to go abroad, and his importunity, prevailed, and engaged\nme to go in his ship as a private trader to the East Indies: this was in\nthe year 1694.\nIn this voyage I visited my new colony in the island, saw my successors\nthe Spaniards, had the whole story of their lives, and of the villains I\nleft there; how at first they insulted the poor Spaniards, how they\nafterwards agreed, disagreed, united, separated, and how at last the\nSpaniards were obliged to use violence with them; how they were\nsubjected to the Spaniards; how honestly the Spaniards used them; an\nhistory, if it were entered into, as full of variety and wonderful\naccidents as my own part: particularly also as to their battles with the\nCaribbeans, who landed several times upon the island, and as to the\nimprovement they made upon the island itself; and how five of them made\nan attempt upon the main land, and brought away eleven men and five\nwomen prisoners; by which, at my coming, I found about twenty young\nchildren on the island.\nHere I stayed about twenty days; left them supplies of all necessary\nthings, and particularly of arms, powder, shot, clothes, tools, and two\nworkmen, which I brought from England with me; viz. a carpenter and\na smith.\nBesides this, I shared the lands into parts with them, reserved to\nmyself the property of the whole, but gave them such parts respectively,\nas they agreed on; and, having settled all things with them, and engaged\nthem not to leave the place, I left them there.\nFrom thence I touched at the Brazils, from whence I sent a bark, which\nI bought there, with more people, to the island; and in it, besides\nother supplies, I sent seven women, being such as I found proper for\nservice, or for wives to such as would take them. As to the Englishmen,\nI promised them to send them some women from England, with a good cargo\nof necessaries, if they would apply themselves to planting; which I\nafterwards could not perform: the fellows proved very honest and\ndiligent, after they were mastered, and had their properties set apart\nfor them. I sent them also from the Brazils five cows, three of them\nbeing big with calf, some sheep, and some hogs, which, when I came again\nwere considerably increased.\nBut all these things, with an account how three hundred Caribbees came\nand invaded them, and ruined their plantations, and how they fought with\nthat whole number twice, and were at first defeated and one of them\nkilled; but at last a storm destroying their enemies canoes, they\nfamished or destroyed almost all the rest, and renewed and recovered the\npossession of their plantation, and still lived upon the island.\nAll these things, with some very surprising incidents in some new\nadventures of my own, for ten years more, I shall give a farther account\nof in another volume.\nEND OF, VOL.I.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe of York, Mariner, Volume 1\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " French\n", "content": "Produced by Christine D., Jason Isbell, Swiss National\nLibrary and Swiss Institute and the Online Distributed\nmade using scans of public domain works in the International\nChildren's Digital Library.)\n  COLLECTION\n  DE CENT-CINQUANTE GRAVURES\n  REPR\u00c9SENTANT\n  ET FORMANT UNE SUITE\n  NON INTERROMPUE\nDES\n  VOYAGES ET AVENTURES\n  SURPRENANTES\n  DE\n  ROBINSON CRUSO\u00c9,\nDessin\u00e9es et Grav\u00e9es\n  PAR F. A. L. DUMOULIN,\n  A VEVEY.\nImprimerie de LOERTSCHER ET FILS, \u00e0 VEVEY.\nAVERTISSEMENT.\nTout le monde connait les _aventures de Robinson Cruso\u00e9_, malgr\u00e9 les\ncharmantes imitations qu'on a fait de ce roman on revient toujours avec\nplaisir \u00e0 l'original; l'ouvrage que je publie se compose de 150 gravures \u00e0\nl'eau forte et retouch\u00e9es au burin, toutes tir\u00e9es de cet ouvrage et\nformant une suite de tableaux qui me paraissent d'un grand int\u00e9r\u00eat,\nsurtout pour les jeunes gens, et dont l'ensemble met sous les yeux des\nsc\u00e8nes de tout genre.\nD\u00e8s mon enfance, ce livre et les figures qui y \u00e9taient attach\u00e9es, fix\u00e8rent\nsinguli\u00e8rement mon attention; je leur dois le go\u00fbt de la lecture, du\ndessin et de l'\u00e9tude de la nature, et _Robinson Cruso\u00e9_ d\u00e9veloppa chez moi\nle d\u00e9sir de voyager. Avec ces go\u00fbts et ces d\u00e9sirs j'allai d'abord en\nAngleterre, dans le but de me vouer au commerce dont j'avais fait un\napprentissage; Arrivant \u00e0 une \u00e9poque marqu\u00e9e par de nombreuses faillites,\nmes amis ne purent me trouver de place convenable \u00e0 Londres: mais ils m'en\nprocur\u00e8rent une dans une maison de l'isle de la Grenade. Je partis des\ndunes le 15 F\u00e9vrier 1773, le temps \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s mauvais, une temp\u00e8te\naffreuse, qui fit p\u00e9rir plus de 60 b\u00e2timents, et qui dura quatre jours,\nnous fit courir les plus grands dangers, et il ne s'en fallut que de 5 \u00e0 6\npieds que nous ne fussions bris\u00e9s par un gros vaisseau qui chassait sur\nses ancres; ce fut seulement le 13 Avril que nous arrivames \u00e0 la Grenade.\nPendant mon s\u00e9jour aux Antilles de 1773 \u00e0 1782 j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 t\u00e9moin de la prise\nde cette isle, par les Fran\u00e7ais et du combat naval qui se donna pr\u00e8s de la\nville de St. Georges, sa capitale, entre le comte d'Estaing et l'amiral\nByron; de l'\u00e9pouvantable ouragan d'Octobre 1780, qui d\u00e9sola les Antilles\net couvrit les mers de naufrages; de la grande affaire du 12^e Avril 1782,\nentre le comte de Grasse et l'amiral Rodney; de l'incendie de plusieurs\nnavires et de divers ph\u00e9nom\u00e8nes qui appartiennent \u00e0 ces plages lointaines.\nMa passion pour le dessin me fit esquisser ces diff\u00e9rents sc\u00e8nes, un grand\nnombre de paysages et quelques animaux appartenant \u00e0 ces climats, et je me\ncomposai un livre _d'\u00e9tudes_, o\u00f9 je peignis la mer sous ses diff\u00e9rens\naspects de calme et de temp\u00eates, des vaisseaux avec tous leurs agr\u00e8s, et\nen g\u00e9n\u00e9ral tout ce qui tient au genre de la _marine_, si bien \u00e9tudi\u00e9 et\nrendu par l'immortel _Vernet_; mais j'ai malheureusement perdu la plus\ngrande partie de mes croquis, \u00e0 la prise de la Grenade, o\u00f9 je fus bless\u00e9\ndans les rangs de ceux qui la d\u00e9fendaient et fait prisonnier; c'est alors\nqu'un officier anglais, qui fr\u00e9quentait notre maison, et qui ne s'\u00e9tait\nnullement souci\u00e9 de se battre, m'enleva mes dessins, et divers \u00e9v\u00e9nements\nf\u00e2cheux m'ont priv\u00e9 dans la suite du peu d'esquisses que j'avais\nconserv\u00e9es; mais elles \u00e9taient peintes dans ma m\u00e9moire et j'en ai pu\nreproduire quelques-unes.\nJ'eus encore occasion d'aller visiter les isles de la Trinit\u00e9 et de\nTabago, peu \u00e9loign\u00e9es, surtout la premi\u00e8re, des magnifiques bouches de\nl'Or\u00e9noque, et de parcourir une partie de la curieuse province de Caracas;\nce voyage me rappela vivement le roman favori de mon enfance;\nl'imagination se joignit \u00e0 la m\u00e9moire, et, de retour dans ma Patrie, je\nconsacrai mes loisirs de Vevey \u00e0 reproduire par le burin _Robinson\nCruso\u00e9_, dans tout le d\u00e9tail de ses aventures.\nJe ne suis entr\u00e9 dans le narr\u00e9 de ce qui me regarde personnellement que\npour faire mieux sentir que mes dessins sont une copie fid\u00e8le de ce que\nj'ai vu et observ\u00e9, tant pour le paysage que pour la marine, que j'ai\n\u00e9tudi\u00e9s l'un et l'autre avec autant d'ardeur que d'exactitude, et c'est\nd'apr\u00e8s les meilleurs auteurs qui ont d\u00e9crit les costumes et paysages de\nl'Inde, et de l'Asie septentrionale que j'ai travaill\u00e9 pour la derni\u00e8re\npartie de cet ouvrage; C'est, entr'autres, d'apr\u00e8s le p\u00e8re Kircher, dans\nsa Chine illustr\u00e9e, et le voyage de Lord Macartney, que j'ai puis\u00e9 le\ndessin de la grande muraille. Quant \u00e0 la gravure, on verra, sans que je le\ndise, que c'est l'ouvrage d'un apprentif, qui ne l'a apprise que de\nlui-m\u00eame et sans le secours d'aucun ma\u00eetre.\nJe finis par exprimer le d\u00e9sir que mon ouvrage r\u00e9ussisse \u00e0 amuser et m\u00eame\n\u00e0 instruire, car je puis ajouter qu'il tend \u00e0 d\u00e9velopper l'industrie\nindividuelle, en montrant de quoi un seul homme est capable, et \u00e0 faire\nvoir qu'avec de l'adresse et de la pers\u00e9v\u00e9rance, on peut aller assez loin\ndans cette branche de technologie qui pourvoit \u00e0 nos premiers besoins;\nc'est ainsi qu'alimentant une louable curiosit\u00e9, on ne saurait lui refuser\nle m\u00e9rite de joindre l'utile \u00e0 l'agr\u00e9able.\nRobinson devant son P\u00e8re, qui lui fait des remontrances sur son gout de\ncourir le Monde, il lui pr\u00e9dit les malheurs qui lui arriveroient\nRobinson escort\u00e9 par un Marin son ami se d\u00e9cide \u00e0 entreprendre son 1^er\nVoy^e. par Mer\nLe Vaisseau sur lequel Robinson s'\u00e9toit embarqu\u00e9 \u00e0 Hull fait Naufrage\ndans la Rade d'Yarmouth. Robinson se sauve avec l'Equipage\nCommerce des Esclaves \u00e0 la C\u00f4te d'Afrique pour les Plantations des\nEurop\u00e9ens aux Indes Occidentales\nVue du pont d'un Vaisseau faisant le Commerce des N\u00e8gres; pour Servir \u00e0\nconnoitre la mani\u00e8re de transporter les Esclaves de la Cote d'Afrique dans\nles Colonies Europ\u00e9ennes des Indes Occidentales\nRobinson faisant le Voyage de la Guin\u00e9e est fait prisonnier par un\nCorsaire Marocquin qui le mena Esclave \u00e0 Sal\u00e9\nRobinson \u00e9tant Esclave chez les Maures de Sal\u00e9 travaille dans les jardins\nde son Patron\nRobinson se Sauve d'Esclavage dans une Chaloupe avec un jeune Maure de\nSal\u00e9\nRobinson apr\u00e8s s'etre Sauv\u00e9 d'Esclavage fait route pour le Cap Verd & tue\nun Lion sur la Cote du D\u00e9sert de Zara\nRobinson continuant sa fuite le long de la Cote d'Afrique rencontre des\nN\u00e8gres & tue un Leopard\nLes N\u00e8gres pour recompenser Robinson du Leopard qu'il leur avoit donn\u00e9\nlui fournissent de l'eau et des racines.\nRobinson \u00e0 la hauteur du Cap verd est recu \u00e0 bord d'un Vaisseau Portugais\nqui le conduit au Br\u00e9sil\nRobinson d\u00e9frichant sa Plantation au Br\u00e9sil fait des reflexions sur son\nSort\nRobinson s'embarque du Br\u00e9sil pour la C\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e \u00e0 dessein d'acheter\ndes N\u00e8gres pour sa Plantation & celles de ses Associ\u00e9s\nTemp\u00e9te terrible qu'essuya le Vaisseau de Robinson et le jetta hors de sa\nroute\nLe Vaisseau de Robinson ayant \u00e9chou\u00e9 contre un Banc, l'Equipage\ns'embarqua dans la Chaloupe qui fut engloutie par une Vague furieuse\nLes Compagnons de Robinson ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 engloutis avec la Chaloupe, il nagea\nde toutes ses forces, parvenu \u00e0 un Rocher il s'y cramponna j'usqu'ace que\nla vague en se retirant lui permit de gagner le rivage.\nRobinson \u00e9chap\u00e9 du Naufrage rend graces \u00e0 Dieu de sa d\u00e9livrance.\nRobinson passe la premi\u00e8re nuit apr\u00e8s son Naufrage sur un arbre ou il\ndormit profond\u00e9ment\nRobinson \u00e9tant all\u00e9 \u00e0 bord de son Navire \u00e9chou\u00e9 fait un radeau qu'il\ncharge de toutes sortes d'effets utiles\nRobinson ayant trop charg\u00e9 un de ses radeaux de Cables et ferrements\nqu'il avoit tir\u00e9 du Vaisseau en est renvers\u00e9 avec sa Charge dont il perd\nla plus grande partie\nRobinson ayant dress\u00e9 une Tente y serre et met a l'abry les effets qu'il\na sauv\u00e9 du Vaisseau naufrag\u00e9\nRobinson porte des pieux pour renfermer sa demeure au pied d'un rocher\ncreus\u00e9 naturellem^t\nRobinson creuse le Rocher pour y faire sa demeure\nUn Orage de tonnerres & d'\u00e9clairs effraye Robinson pour sa Provision de\nPoudre ce qui le d\u00e9termine \u00e0 la diviser par parcel^s pour la mettre \u00e0\nl'abry du feu.\nRobinson \u00e0 la Chasse des Ch\u00e8vres sauvages\nRobinson fait son Calendrier en coupant des entailles sur un pieu\nRobinson ayant besoin de sacs pour diviser sa poudre et la distribuer\ndans diff\u00e9rents endroits pour la garentir du feu, vuide deux sacs--dans\nlesquels il restoit un peu de bled et de Ris mang\u00e9 des Rats\nRobinson est \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de voir des Epis de bled et de ris croitre aupr\u00e8s de\nson Chateau ne se rappellant pas d'y avoir secou\u00e9 des sacs qui en\ncontenoiet des restes.\nUn Tremblement de terre ayant fait \u00e9crouler la Voute de la Caverne\npendant que Robinson y \u00e9toit, il faillit en \u00eatre \u00e9cras\u00e9 et enseveli sous\nles d\u00e9bris,\nRobinson se promenant au bord de la Mer trouve une Tortue qu'il\ntransporta ch\u00e9z lui\nSonge de Robinson qui l'effraye beaucoup et qui le dispose \u00e0 se r\u00e9signer\n\u00e0 la Providence.\nRobinson \u00e9tant tomb\u00e9 malade de la fievre \u00e9ssaye plusieurs manieres de\ns'en guerir par le moyen du Tabac entrautres d'en recevoir la fum\u00e9e dans\nla bouche en le brulant sur des Charbons.\nRobinson parcourant son Isle trouve de la Vigne il en pend des grappes\nmures aux branches des arbres pour les s\u00e9cher\nRobinson ayant pr\u00e9par\u00e9 un terrein y s\u00e8me le bled et le Ris qu'il avoit\nrecueilli des \u00e9pis trouv\u00e9s fortuitement aupres de son Chateau.\nRobinson travaille \u00e0 se faire des paniers pour serrer son bled\nRobinson ayant abattu un Perroquet d'un coup de baton sans le tuer\nl'emporta chez lui ou il s'apprivoisa.\nRobinson \u00e9tant \u00e0 la Chasse son Chien atteignit un jeune Chevreau et\nl'ayant d\u00e9gag\u00e9 l'emmena ch\u00e9z lui.\nRobinson le soir dans sa Caverne medite sur le bien et le mal de sa\nsituation.\nRobinson fait des planches en abbatant un arbre et le taillant des deux\nCot\u00e9s jusqu'a l'epaisseur demand\u00e9e\nRobinson voyant que les oyseaux mangeoient tout son bled sur pied, les\nveille, tire sur eux des Coups de fusil et en pend 2 ou 3 pour leur servir\nd'Epouvantail, ce qui lui reussit.\nRobinson coupe son bled avec un Coutelas\nRobinson apr\u00e8s avoir sem\u00e9 son bled traine sur le terrein ensemenc\u00e9 une\nbranche d'arbre en maniere de herse\nRobinson ayant fait une houe avec une branche d'arbre faconn\u00e9e avec ses\nOutils s'en sert pour labourer le Terrein ou il vouloit semer son bled.\nRobinson ayant besoin de Vases pour tenir des liquides essaye de faire\ndes pots et autres Utensiles avec de l'Argile.\nRobinson apr\u00e8s plusieurs \u00e9ssays infructueux r\u00e9ussit \u00e0 cuire ses Vases de\nterre en les environnant des feux bien ardents.\nRobinson apr\u00e8s avoir fait l'essay de toutes sortes de moyens de reduire\nson bled en farine fit un Mortier d'un Tronc d'arbre dans lequel il piloit\nson bled en place d'un Moulin et parvint \u00e0 faire du pain\nRobinson ayant trouv\u00e9 la Chaloupe de son Vaisseau naufrag\u00e9 engag\u00e9e dans\nle sable sur le bord de la Mer fait d'inutiles efforts pour la remettre \u00e0\nflot.\nRobinson n'ayant pas r\u00e9ussi \u00e0 remettre \u00e0 flot la Chaloupe abbattit un\ngrand C\u00e8dre ou Acajou et du tronc entreprit et travailla \u00e0 en faire un\ngrand Canot capable de le transporter sur la Terre ferme en vu\u00e8.\nRobinson ayant ach\u00e8v\u00e9 son Canot et voulant le conduire \u00e0 la Mer fit de\ngrands \u00e9fforts pour cela, il s'apperait alors qu'il avoit entrepri\ninconsid\u00e9rem^t une chose au dessus de ses forces et qu'il falloit qu'il y\nrenoncat.\nRobinson ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9 d'abandonner le Canot qu'il avoit fait trop\ngrand et trop lourd pour un seul homme, en construisit un autre plus petit\nqu'il \u00e9quipa et avec lequel bien joyeux il mit en Mer pour faire le tour\nde son Isle.\nRobinson ayant vogu\u00e9 quelques lieues tomba dans un Courant qui l'emporta\nmalgr\u00e9 ses efforts si loin de son Isle qu'il n'appercevoit presque plus,\nse voyant port\u00e9 en pleine Mer et se croyant perdu il regrette am\u00e8rement la\nfolie qui l'avoit engag\u00e9 \u00e0 faire cette tentative.\nRobinson ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 favoris\u00e9 d'un contre Courant ait le bonheur de\nregagner son Isle ne voulant plus s'exposer au m\u00eame danger, il laissa son\nCanot dans une petite Crique et retourner par terre \u00e0 son Chateau, en\nChemin fatigu\u00e9 il s'endormit et passa la Nuit sous un Arbre, le lendemain\nMatin il fut \u00e9veill\u00e9 et effray\u00e8 par une voix qui lui crioit Robinson\npauvre Robinson ou aves vous \u00e9t\u00e9, cetoit son Perroquet perch\u00e9 sur une\nbranche.\nRobinson ayant fait deux Tr\u00e9buchets dans le dessin d'y attirer des\nCh\u00e8vres sauvages, y trouva un Matin un Vieux Bouc dans un et trois\nChevraux dans l'autre, il laisse \u00e9chaper le Bouc et mena les 3 Chevreaux\nchez lui\nRepas de Robinson avec toute sa famille\nHabillement et Equipage de Robinson lors qu'il parcouroit son Isle pour\nla connoitre.\nMaison de Campagne de Robinson ou il tenoit son Troupeau de Ch\u00e8vres\napprivois\u00e9es.\nRobinson \u00e9tant all\u00e9 voir le Canot qu'il avoit laiss\u00e9 dans une Crique\nappercoit sur le sable l'empreinte d'un pied d'homme nud dont il est\n\u00e9xtr\u00e8ment \u00e9ffray\u00e9.\nRobinson depuis la d\u00e9couverte de l'empreinte du pied nud soup\u00e7onnoit que\nce peut \u00eatre des sauvages voisins de son Isle est dans de grandes craintes\nd'en \u00eatre surpris lors qu'il va \u00e0 sa maison de Campagne traire ses\nChevres.\nRobinson toujours \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 fortifie son Chateau\nRobinson trouve les restes d'un festin de Cannibales\nRobinson ayant par hazard trouv\u00e9 une Caverne, arm\u00e9 d'un tison allum\u00e9 il\nveut y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer pour l'examiner, mais il est effray\u00e9 par un grand soupir\net deux objets brillants, c'\u00e9toit une vielle Ch\u00e8vre.\nRobinson du sommet du Rocher de son Chateau voit \u00e0 l'aide de ses\nlunettes, un festin de Canibales.\nPendant une grande Tempete de nuit Robinson entendit des coups de Canons,\nsupposant qu'ils \u00e9toient tir\u00e9s par quelque Vaisseau en d\u00e9tresse, il alluma\nun feu au sommet de son Rocher pour que l'Equipage le vit.\nLe jour suivant Robinson ayant appercu au moyen de ses lunettes un\nVaisseau qui paroissoit \u00e9chou\u00e9 \u00e9quipa son Canot et s'embarqua pour aller\nle visiter, un Chien fut le seul Etre vivant qu'il trouva \u00e0 bord de ce\nbatimt. qui lui parut \u00eatre Espagnol.\nRobinson n'ayant trouv\u00e9 \u00e0 bord que deux hommes morts s'empare de quelques\neffets qui lui convenoient et les met dans son Canot le reste \u00e9tant trop\npesant pour lui il l'abandonna\nRobinson ayant d\u00e9couvert un Matin un d\u00e9barquement d'environ trente\nsauvages dans six Canots pour manger quelques prisonniers, sappercoit\nqu'un de ces Captifs s'\u00e9chape de ses Bourreaux et s'enfuit du cot\u00e9 de son\nhabitation.\nRobinson voulant sauver le prisonnier fugitif prend ses armes se jette\nentre lui et deux sauvages qui le poursuivoient de pr\u00e9s abbat le plus\nproche d'un Coup de Crosse et tue l'autre d'un Coup de fusil.\nRobinson ayant mis hors de Combat les deux Sauvages qui poursuiv^t. leur\nprisonn^r. et ayant pr\u00eat\u00e9 son sabre \u00e0 ce dernier qui coupa la t\u00eate du\npremier Sauvage qui n'etoit qu'\u00e9tourdi du coup qu'il avoit recu et lui\nportant sa t\u00eate se fait son Esclave par reconnays^t.\nRobinson ayant appri de son Esclave Vendredi qu'il y avoit chez sa Nation\ndes hommes barbus sauv\u00e9s d'un Naufrage, prend la resolution de les aller\nchercher, en Cons\u00e9quence il construit un grand Canot par le Moyen du feu \u00e0\nla maniere des Sauvages.\nLes Sauvages ayant fait une nouvelle descente pour manger quelques\nprisonniers Robinson qui les avoit envoy\u00e9 reconnoitre par Vendredi apprit\nde lui qu'un des hommes barbus \u00e9toit parmi ces derniers, il resolut de le\nd\u00e9livrer, s'\u00e9tant arm\u00e9s avec Vendredi il fait feu sur eux et les\ndisperse.\nRobinson ayant d\u00e9livr\u00e9 l'homme barbu lui pr\u00e8ta son sabre et un de ses\npistolets avec lesquels il combattit corps \u00e0 corps avec un des Sauvages\nqui l'ayant terrass\u00e9 vouloit lui arracher son sabre pour l'en tuer et le\ntua d'un Coup de pistolet.\nQuatre des Sauvages s'\u00e9tant \u00e8chap\u00e9s avec un Canot, Robinson et Vendredi\nresolurent de les poursuivre, \u00e9tant entr\u00e9s pour cet effet dans un autre\nCanot ils furent surpris d'y trouver un autre prisonnier garott\u00e9 que\nVendredi reconnut pour \u00eatre son P\u00e8re.\nRobinson et Vendredi ayant transport\u00e9 en Canot les deux Captifs d\u00e9livr\u00e9s\npr\u00e8s de leur habitation les y portent sur un brancard par ce que leurs\njambes extr\u00e9ment enfl\u00e9es d'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 garott\u00e9es ne leur permettoient de\nmarcher.\nD\u00e9part de l'Espagnol et du P\u00e8re de Vendredi par ordre de Robinson pour\naller chercher 16 autres Espagnols qui \u00e9toient encore dans le pa\u00ffs de\nVendredi.\nRobinson et Vendredi d\u00e9couvrent du sommet du Rocher de leur Chateau une\nChaloupe Europ\u00e9ene qui longeoit la Cote de leur Cot\u00e9 et un Vaisseau\nmouill\u00e9 \u00e0 2 \u00bd lieues, la Chaloupe lui parut \u00eatre Angloise.\nLa Chaloupe Angloise d\u00e9barque 3 prisonniers garott\u00e9s pour les abandonner\nsur l'Isle, les Matelots les menacent comme s'ils voulaient les\nmassacrer.\nRobinson voyant les prisonniers seuls couches sous un arbre se pr\u00e9sente \u00e0\neux tout arm\u00e9 et accompagn\u00e9 de Vendredi, apr\u00e9s les avoir rassures ils lui\nracontent que l'Equipage du Vaisseau s'etant revolt\u00e9 ils veulent les\nabandonner dans cette Isle qu'ils croyoient inhabit\u00e9e\nLes prisonniers qui \u00e9taient le Capitaine du Vaisseau, son Contremaitre et\nun Passager ayant re\u00e7u des Armes de Robinson attaquent les Mutins en tuent\ndeux et font prisonniers les autres.\nLes Matelots mutins de la Chaloupe ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 reduits Robinson avec le\nCapitaine et ses Compagnons d\u00e9gr\u00e9ent la Chaloupe et la mettent hors d'etat\nd'etre emmen\u00e9e par le reste de l'Equipage du Vaisseau.\nL'Equipage du Vaisseau ne voyant pas revenir sa pr^e. Chaloupe malgr\u00e9 ses\nSignaux envoye sa seconde, les hommes qui la montaient trouvant la 1^e\n\u00e9chou\u00e9e d\u00e9gr\u00e9e et perc\u00e9e poussent de grands cris et font une d\u00e9charge\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale de leurs armes pour se faire entendre de leurs gens dans\nl'Isle.\nL'Equipage de la 2^e Chaloupe n'entendant aucune Nouvelle de ceux de la\n1^e prennent la resolution de se r'embarquer, mais Robinson faisant\npousser des Cris par qques uns de ses gens ils d\u00e9barquent de nouveau et\ns'enfoncent dans les bois ne laissant pour garder la Chaloupe que 2 hommes\ndont l'un est tue par le Cap^e. et l'autre fait prison^r.\nLes gens de l'Equipage de la 2^e Chaloupe attires par les Cris coururent\ndans les bois mais inutilement, ils retournerent bien fatigues \u00e0 leur\nChaloupe pour se r\u00e9embarquer mais la trouvant \u00e9chou\u00e9e et abandonn\u00e9e la\nMar\u00e9e \u00e9tant basse, d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s ils couroient c\u00e0 et la alors le Cap^e. et\nses gens font feu sur le Bosseman Chef de cette troupe le tuent avec un\nautre et le reste se soumet.\nLes Mutins s'\u00e9tant rendus furent d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s, le Capitaine les fit garotter,\nil leur r\u00e9montra qu'ils m\u00e9ritoient tous la Mort mais qu'on leur faisoit\ngrace except\u00e9 Guillaume Atkins qui se jetta \u00e0 genoux pour demander la\nvie.\nLe Capitaine aid\u00e9 de ses Compagnons et de quelques uns des Matelots qui\ns'etoient rendus \u00e0 lui se rend maitre par surprise de son Vaisseau apr\u00e8s\navoir tu\u00e9 le nouveau Capitaine et deux autres Chefs de la revolte\nRobinson paroit ici comme le pr\u00e9tendu Gouverneur de l'Isle accompagn\u00e9 du\nCap^e. qui lui a fourni un habillement complet, il montre aux 5 principaux\nmutins qui doivent \u00eatre abandonn\u00e9s dans l'Isle leur nouveau Cap^e. pendu \u00e0\nla grande Vergue du Vaisseau qui \u00e9toit venu Mouiller dans la petite\nbaye.\nRobinson et Vendredi s'embarquent sur le Vaisseau du Capitaine qu'il\navoit d\u00e9livr\u00e9 et laisse son Isle les 5 Matelots mutins aquilil apprend la\nprochaine arriv\u00e9e de 16 Espagnols avec le P\u00e8re de Vendredi et leur\nrecommandant de vivre en bonne union ensemble.\nRobinson de retour en Angleterre d\u00e9sirant d'avoir des nouvelles de sa\nPlantation au Br\u00e9sil s'embarque \u00e0 Londres sur le Paquebot avec son fid\u00e8le\nVendredi pour aller \u00e0 Lisbonne.\nRobinson \u00e9tant arriv\u00e9 \u00e1 Lisbonne trouve le vieux Capitaine Portugais qui\nl'avoit re\u00e7u sur son bord lors qu'il s'\u00e9chapa d'Esclavage, lequel lui\ndonna des nouvelles de sa Plantation au Br\u00e9sil et lui rendit Compte de\nl'argent qu'il avoit re\u00e7u pour lui.\nRobinson ayant s\u00e9journ\u00e9 qque tems \u00e0 Lisbonne recut par la Flotte du\nBr\u00e9sil des nouvelles de son Associ\u00e9 et de sa Plantation avec des remises\nconsiderables, se voyant riche il resolut de retourner en Angleterre par\nl'Espagne et la France en Compagnie de plusieurs Cavaliers ne voulant plus\nse Confier \u00e0 la Mer\nRobinson arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 Lampdune, sa petite Caravane fut augment\u00e9e de 12\nCavaliers avec leurs Valets que la grande quantit\u00e9 de Neige tomb\u00e9e sur les\nPirenn\u00e9es retenoit dans cette Ville, en \u00e9tant partis, dans les montagnes\nleur guide \u00e9tant seul en avant fut attaqu\u00e9 par 2 Loups affames. Vendredi\naccourut \u00e0 ses cris tua un des Loups d'un coup de Pistolet; l'autre se\nsauva\nDans les Montagnes un Ours parut, Vendredi demanda \u00e0 Robinson\nla permission d'amuser la Caravane aux d\u00e9pens de cet Animal, ce qui lui\nayant \u00e9t\u00e9 accord\u00e9 il se pr\u00e9para et ayant accost\u00e9 la B\u00eate en lui parlant\nmais l'Ours n'y faisant aucune attention Vendredi pour l'exciter lui jetta\nune pierre.\nL'ours se trouvant offens\u00e9 poursuivit Vendredy qui grimpa sur un arbre,\nlours ly suivit \u00e0vec pr\u00e9caution jusques sur une longue branche flexible\nsur laquelle Vendredy se mit \u00e0 danser et sauter ce qui obligea l'ours de\nprendre des postures si grotesques pour ne tomber que cela divertit\nbeaucoup la Compagnie.\nVendredy ayant bien amus\u00e9 la Compagnie aux d\u00e9pens de l'Ours se laissa\ncouler \u00e0 terre par le bout de la branche, l'Ours voulant le suivre\ndescendit de l'arbre \u00e0 reculons, aussitot qu'il eut pos\u00e9 un de ses pieds \u00e0\nterre Vendredy lui lacha son Coup de fusil dans l'Oreille et le tua\nroide.\nLa Cavanne de Robinson est attaqu\u00e9e par qques Centaines de Loups sur\nlesquels ils font une d\u00e9charge de leurs Carabines et pistolets et tombent\nensuite sur les Loups \u00e0 coups de sabre ils les dispersent\nLa nuit approchant la Caravanne fit diligence pour arriver au gite\nentrant dans un D\u00e9fil\u00e9 ils rencontr\u00e8rent un Cheval sell\u00e9 et brid\u00e9 fuyant \u00e0\ntoutes jambes poursuivi par 5 Loups, ils trouv\u00e8rent ensuite un autre\nCheval et deux Cavaliers mang\u00e9s par ces animaux.\nLa Caravanne \u00e9tant entr\u00e9e dans le D\u00e9fil\u00e9 d'un Bois fut de nouveau\nattaqu\u00e9e par un grand nombre de Loups, Robinson fit mettre pied \u00e0 terre \u00e0\nsa troupe la rangea derriere un grand arbre abattu d'o\u00f9 ils faisoient feu\nsur les Loups, mais cela ne suffisant pas contre la rage de ces animaux il\nfit faire une grande train\u00e9e de poudre sur l'arbre \u00e0 la qu'elle il mit le\nfeu son explosion fit sauter plusieurs de ces betes en grilla une partie\net dispersa le reste\nRetour de Robinson en Angleterre, son arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Douvres.\nRobinson passe l'acte de vente de sa Plantation au Br\u00e9sil en faveur de\nson Associ\u00e9 et en recoit la Valeur\nRobinson se marie en Angleterre.\nRobinson ayant achet\u00e9 une M\u00e9tairie la fait bonifier.\nMort de la femme de Robinson.\nUn Neveu de Robinson Cap^e. d'un Vaisseau Marchand destin\u00e9 pour les Indes\nOrientales et la Chine, \u00e9tant venu le voir avant son d\u00e9part lui propose de\npartir avec lui et comme il devoit toucher au Br\u00e9sil il pourroit revoir et\nvisiter son Isle\nRobinson s'embarque aux Dunes avec son Neveu le Capitaine et son fid\u00e8le\nVendredi pour visiter son Isle.\nIncendie d'un Vaisseau Fran\u00e7ais\nSc\u00e8ne touchante arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 bord du Vaisseau ou \u00e9toit Robinson lorsque\nl'Equipage du Vaisseau Fran\u00e7ais incendi\u00e9 y fut re\u00e7u et qu'il se vit\nd\u00e9livr\u00e9 du danger qu'il avoit couru.\nRencontre d'un Vaisseau en d\u00e9tresse\nSecours de nourriture donn\u00e9 \u00e0 l'Equipage du Vaisseau en d\u00e9tresse qui\nmanquoit de Vivres depuis Onze jours.\nHorrible d\u00e9tresse caus\u00e9e par la famine d'une famille \u00e0 bord du Vaisseau\ndont Robinson avoit s\u00e9couru l'Equipage.\nRobinson apr\u00e8s avoir longtems cherch\u00e9 son Isle la retrouve, il fait\nmettre le Vaisseau \u00e0 l'ancre dans la petite Baye et accompagn\u00e9 de Vendredi\ndu jeune Pr\u00e8tre francais et de plusieurs hommes armes, en d\u00e9barquant ils\ntrouv\u00e8rent le Chef Espagnol qui reconnut Robinson.\nD\u00e9monstrations \u00e9xtraordinaires de la joye qu'\u00e9prouve Vendredi de\nretrouver son P\u00e8re en vie.\nLe Chef Espagnol raconte \u00e0 Robinson les \u00e9venements qui se sont passes\ndans son Isle depuis son D\u00e9part.\nArriv\u00e9e des 17 Espagnols que Robinson avoit envoy\u00e9 chercher par leur Chef\net le p\u00e8re de Vendredi et leur R\u00e9ception dans l'Isle par les Anglois qu'il\ny avoit laiss\u00e9s lors de son d\u00e9part.\nPremiere hostilit\u00e9 entre les 3 Matelots Anglois que Robinson avoit laiss\u00e9\ndans l'Isle en partant et les 2 autres Matelots qui s'etoient enfuis de\nVaisseau crainte d'etre punis ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 du nombre des revolt\u00e9s\n2^de. hostilit\u00e9 des 3 Matelots Anglois contre les Espagnols.\nCombat dans l'Isle entre deux Nations Sauvages ennemies\nPour un l\u00e9ger sujet de m\u00e9contement contre un Esclave un des 3 Anglois\nvoulut lui fendre la tete d'un coup de sa hache mais le blessa gri\u00e8vemt \u00e0\nl'\u00e9paule un Espagnol pr\u00e9sent voulant l'emp\u00e9cher de le tuer, l'Anglois\nvoulut le frapper de sa hache l'Espagnol le terrassa d'un coup de b\u00e8che,\nil s'ensuivit une rixe entre les Espagnols et les 3 Anglois qui furent\nd\u00e9sarm\u00e9s et fait prisonniers.\nD\u00e9part des 3 Anglois dans un Canot pour tenter fortune dans d'autres\nIsles voisines.\nLes 3 Matelots Anglois \u00e9tant descendus dans une Isle pour se procurer des\nVivres trouv\u00e9rent un peuple doux mais pauvre qui leur donna au lieu de\nprovision 11 hommmes et 5 femmes de leurs prisonniers de Guerre destines \u00e1\n\u00e8tre mang\u00e9s, contre une de leurs haches et d'autres bagatelles, ils\nrelacherent 8 de ces prisonniers dans un autre endroit.\nMariage des 5 Anglois avec les 5 femmes Sauvages que les 3 Anglois\navoient amen\u00e9es.\nUne troupe de Sauvages ayant fait un d\u00e9barquement dans l'Isle pour faire\nun festin de quelques prisonniers, d\u00e8s qu'ils furent partis quelques\nEspagnols et Anglois furent curieux de voir la Sc\u00e8ne de leur repas, ils\nfurent surpris d'y trouver 3 Sauvages endormis qu'ils firent\nprisonniers.\nLes 2 Anglois cach\u00e9s dans le tronc d'un Vieux arbre pourri font feu sur\nun de leurs esclaves qui s'etoit \u00e9chap\u00e9 et qui amenoit une troupe\nconsiderable d'autres Sauvages pour d\u00e9truire eux et leurs plantations\nGrande Bataille contre les Sauvages venus une seconde fois en plus grand\nnombre pour d\u00e9truire toute la Colonie.\nD\u00e9faite totale des Sauvages attaqu\u00e9s et surpris pendant la Nuit\nLes Sauvages apr\u00e8s leur d\u00e9faite se sauv\u00e8rent dans les Bois, poursuivis \u00e0\noutrance et accabl\u00e9s par la mis\u00e8re et la faim, le reste reduit \u00e0 37 se\nsoumit aux habitants de la Colonie qui leur fournirent des Vivres et leur\nassign\u00e8rent un Canton de l'Isle pour l'habiter et le Cultiver.\nMaison en Ouvrage de Vanier construite par Atkins ou il demeuroit avec sa\nfamille et celles de ses Compagnons dont un avoit \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9 par les\nSauvages.\nGuill^me. Atkins corrig\u00e9 par l'exp\u00e9rience et le malheur, et par les\n\u00e9xhortations de Robinson se r\u00e9pent de sa vie pass\u00e9e et tache de convertir\nla Sauvagesse sa femme \u00e0 la Religion Chr\u00e9tienne.\nBapt\u00eame de la Sauvagesse femme d'Atkins par le jeune Pr\u00e9tre Fran\u00e7ais.\nVendredy perc\u00e9 de 3 fleches meurt en parlementant un grand nombre de\nSauvages qui dans leurs Canots avoient attaqu\u00e9 le Vaisseau de Robinson\npr\u00e8s de Catine et \u00e0 l'ancre en vue de quelques terres.\nRobinson arriv\u00e9 au Br\u00e9sil fait pr\u00e9parer une Chaloupe pour conduire dans\nson Isle quelques personnes et divers Bestiaux pour la peupler.\nLes Insulaires de l'Isle de Madagascar ayant attaqu\u00e9 de nuit la chaloupe\ndu Vaisseau au point du jour le Capit^e. averti par des signaux du danger\nde ses gens parmi lesquels \u00e9toit Robinson alla \u00e0 leur secours et ayant\nfait feu de ses Canons sur les Insulaires il les dispersa.\nUn D\u00e9tachement de l'Equipage du Vaisseau allant \u00e0 la recherche d'un\nmatelot nomm\u00e9 Thomas Jeffery qui manquoit depuis l'attaque des Insulaires,\nen entrant de nuit dans un Village, ils le trouv\u00e8rent nud pendu par un\nbras \u00e0 un Arbre pour se Venger des habitants ils mirent le feu aux maisons\net massacr\u00e8rent tous ceux qu'ils rencontrer^t\nL'Equipage du Vaisseau las des reproches que leur faisoit \u00e0 tout propos\nRobinson du Massacre de Madagascar l'obligea de quitter le Vaisseau \u00e0\nBengale la, en Societ\u00e9 d'un Marchand Anglois ils achet\u00e8rent un navire\nHollandois pour faire le Commerce de l'Inde\nRobinson \u00e9tant dans la Rivi\u00e8re de Cambodia occup\u00e9 \u00e0 faire boucher une\nvoye d'eau \u00e0 son Vaisseau est averti par un Matelot Anglois qu'il va \u00eatre\nattaqu\u00e9 par 5 Chaloupes Anglois^es. et Holland^es. qui le prennent pour un\nPirate il met de suite \u00e0 la Voile et repousse avec son Canon les dittes\nChaloupes\nRobinson dans une Riviere du Royaume de Tunquin faisant carener son\nVaisseau est attaqu\u00e9 par les habitants du Pays qui le croyant Naufrag\u00e9\nvouloient faire esclave l'Equipage suivant l'usage du Pays mais ils sont\nrepouss\u00e9s d'une Maniere divertissante avec de la poix bouillante.\nRobinson \u00e9tant dans un Port de la Chine d\u00e9gout\u00e9 de son Vaisseau qui\nl'exposait \u00e0 \u00eatre pris pour Pirate, le loue \u00e0 un Marchand Japonnois sous\nla Conduite du jeune-homme qui son Neveu le Capitaine lui avoit donn\u00e9 pour\nCompagnon en le quittant\nRobinson et ses Compagnons s'\u00e9tant d\u00e9cid\u00e9s \u00e0 P\u00e9kin se mettent \u00e0 la suite\nd'un Mandarin qui alloit \u00e0 la Cour, en route ils firent la rencontre d'un\nGentil-homme Chinois dont la figure grotesque les amusa beaucoup.\nRepas fastuex du m\u00eame Gentilhomme Chinois devant la porte de sa Maison\npour \u00e9taler son importance devant Robinson et sa Compagnie\nRobinson et sa Compagnie \u00e9tant \u00e0 P\u00e9kin se joignent \u00e0 une Caravanne de\nMoscovites et Polonois pour retourner en Europe par la Grande Tartarie. la\nCaravane passe la grande Muraille de la Chine.\nRobinson et plusieurs Marchands de la Caravanne ayant obtenu du Chef la\npermission d'aller \u00e0 la Chasse d'une esp\u00e8ce de Moutons sauvages\nparticulier \u00e0 cette Contr\u00e9e, sont attaqu\u00e9s par un Parti de Tartares qu'ils\nmettent en fuite.\nLa Caravanne est menac\u00e9e par un gros Corps de Tartares qui--voyant la\nbonne Contenance de l'escorte se contenta de leur envoyer une Vol\u00e9e de\nfleches en passant \u00e0 la port\u00e9e de l'arri\u00e8re garde.\nRobinson accompagn\u00e9 du Pilote Portugais \u00e9tant all\u00e9 acheter un Chameau\ndans une petite Ville fut attaqu\u00e9 \u00e0 son retour par 5 Tartares dont 2\nenleverent le Chameau au Chinois qui le conduisoit, Robinson voulant tirer\nson \u00e9p\u00e9e pour se d\u00e9fendre des 3 autres recut un Coup qui l'\u00e9tendit par\nterre\nLe Pilote Portugais voyant Robinson \u00e9tendu par terre et le croyant tu\u00e9\nsaisit le bras du Tartare qui l'avoit frapp\u00e9 et l'attirant \u00e0 lui il lui\ncasse la t\u00eate d'un coup de Pistolet et C^u.\nRobinson devant le Mandarin ou Juge de paix du Village o\u00f9 s'\u00e9toit arr\u00e9t\u00e9e\nla Caravanne, qui le condamna \u00e0 payer le Chameau enlev\u00e9 par les\nTartares.\nRobinson indign\u00e9 du Culte rendu par les Tartares Russes de Nortzinskoy \u00e0\nune horrible Idole pos\u00e9e sur un tronc d'arbre hors du Village court dessus\nau galop et la frappe d'un coup de sabre \u00e0 la t\u00eate ce qui excite les\nhabitants contre lui\nDestruction de Chamchi-thaun-gu Idole des Tartares Tunguts sous la\nDomination de la Russie par Robinson aid\u00e9 de quelques de ses Compagnons de\nla Caravanne.\nLes Tartares Tunguts poursuivirent la Caravanne avec un gros corps de\nCavalerie menacant de la d\u00e9truire si on ne leur livroit ceux qui avoient\nbrul\u00e9 leur Idole, mais un Cosaque de la Caravanne les trompa en leur\ndisant qu'il avoit \u00e9t\u00e9 envoy\u00e9 en Expr\u00e8s pour les avertir que les Coupables\n\u00e9toient dans une autre Troupe qui avoient tir\u00e9 vers le Sud.\nRobinson \u00e9tant \u00e0 Tobolsk Capitale de la Sib\u00e9rie ou il passat l'hiver le\nPrince Galitzin Exil\u00e9 de la Cour de Russie lui pr\u00e9sente son fils pour\npartir avec lui incognito.\nRobinson et sa Compagnie ayant quitt\u00e9 Tobolsk avec le jeune prince\nGalitzin incognito, sa petite Caravanne compos\u00e9e de 16 hommes est attaqu\u00e9e\npar un parti de Tartares Calmouks mais s'\u00e9tant bien retranch\u00e9e dans un\npetit Bois elle les repoussa avec perte.\nRobinson de retour en Angleterre apr\u00e8s une absence de 10 ans trouve ses\ndeux fils grandis et la bonne Veuve de son premier Capitaine leur\nGouvernante encore en vie.\n  Transcriber's note:\n    Accents were not corrected. They appear in the original as they have\n    been left in this file.\n    All instances of q'uil were corrected to qu'il", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Voyages et Aventures Surprenantes de Robinson Cruso\u00e9\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team\nTHE Military Memoirs\nOF\nCapt. _George Carleton_\nFROM THE\nDUTCH WAR, 1672.\nIn which he Serv'd, to the\nConclusion of the Peace at\nUTRECHT, 1713.\nIllustrating\nSome of the most Remarkable TRANSACTIONS, both by Sea\nand Land, during the Reigns of King _Charles_ and King\n_James II_. hitherto unobserved by all the Writers of those\ntimes.\nTogether with\nAn exact Series of the War in _Spain_; and a particular Description\nof the several Places of the Author's Residence in\nmany Cities, Towns, and Countries; their Customs,\nManners, _&c_. Also Observations on the Genius of the\n_Spaniards_ (among whom he continued some Years a\nPrisoner) their Monasteries and Nunneries (especially that\nfine one at _Montserat_) and on their publick Diversions;\nmore particularly their famous BULL-FEASTS.\n_LONDON_, Printed for E. SYMON, over against the Royal\nExchange, _Cornhill_, MDCCXXVIII.\nTO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE\n_Spencer_ Lord _Wilmington_,\n_Knight of the_ Bath, _and one of his Majesty's most Honourable Privy\nCouncil_.\n'Twas my fortune, my Lord, in my juvenile Years, _Musas cum Marte\ncommutare_, and truly I have Reason to blush, when I consider the small\nAdvantage I have reap'd from that Change. But lest it should be imputed\nto my Want of Merit, I have wrote these Memoirs, and leave the World to\njudge of my Deserts. They are not set forth by any fictitious Stories,\nnor imbelished with rhetorical Flourishes; plain Truth is certainly most\nbecoming the Character of an old Soldier. Yet let them be never so\nmeritorious, if not protected by some noble Patron, some Persons may\nthink them to be of no Value.\nTo you therefore, my Lord, I present them; to you, who have so eminently\ndistinguished your self, and whose Wisdom has been so conspicuous to the\nlate Representatives of _Great Britain_, that each revolving Age will\nspeak in your Praise; and if you vouchsafe to be the _Mecoenas_ of these\nMemoirs, your Name will give them sufficient Sanction.\nAn old Soldier I may truly call my self, and my Family allows me the\nTitle of a Gentleman; yet I have seen many Favourites of Fortune,\nwithout being able to discern why they should be so happy, and my self\nso unfortunate; but let not that discourage your Lordship from receiving\nthese my Memoirs into your Patronage; for the Unhappy cannot expect\nFavour but from those who are endued with generous Souls.\nGive me Leave, my Lord, to congratulate this good Fortune, that neither\nWhig nor Tory (in this complaining Age) have found fault with your\nConduct. Your Family has produced Heroes, in defence of injured Kings;\nand you, when 'twas necessary, have as nobly adher'd to the Cause of\nLiberty.\n_My_ LORD,\n_Your Lordship's\nMost obedient\nAnd most devoted\nHumble Servant_,\nG. CARLETON.\nTO THE READER\n_The Author of these Memoirs began early to distinguish himself in\nmartial Affairs, otherwise he could not have seen such Variety of\nActions both by Sea and Land. After the last Dutch War he went into\nFlanders, where he not only serv'd under the Command of his Highness the\nPrince of Orange, whilst he was Generalissimo of the Dutch Forces, but\nlikewise all the time he reign'd King of Great Britain. Most of the\nconsiderable Passages and Events, which happened during that time, are\ncontained in the former Part of this Book_.\n_In the Year 1705, the Regiment in which he serv'd as Captain was\norder'd to embark for the West Indies; and he, having no Inclination to\ngo thither, chang'd with an half-pay Captain; and being recommended to\nthe Earl of Peterborow by the late Lord Cutts, went with him upon that\nnoble Expedition into Spain_.\n_When the Forces under his Lordship's Command were landed near\nBarcelona, the Siege of that Place was thought by several impracticable,\nnot only for want of experienc'd Engineers, but that the Besieged were\nas numerous as the Besiegers; yet the Courage of that brave Earl\nsurmounted those Difficulties, and the Siege was resolv'd upon_.\n_Our Author having obtain'd, by his long Service, some Knowledge of the\npractick Part of an Engineer, and seeing at that critical Time the great\nWant of such, readily acted as one, which gave him the greater\nOpportunity of being an Eye-Witness of his Lordship's Actions; and\nconsequently made him capable of setting them forth in these his\nMemoirs._\n_It may not be perhaps improper to mention that the Author of these\nMemoirs was born at Ewelme in Oxfordshire, descended from an ancient and\nan honourable Family. The Lord Dudley Carleton, who died Secretary of\nState to King Charles I. was his Great Uncle; and in_ _the same Reign\nhis Father was Envoy at the Court of Madrid, whilst his Uncle, Sir\nDudley Carleton, was Embassador to the States of Holland, Men in those\nDays respected both for their Abilities and Loyalty._\nMEMOIRS\nOF AN\n_English Officer, &c._\nIn the year one Thousand six Hundred seventy two, War being proclaimed\nwith _Holland_, it was looked upon among Nobility and Gentry, as a\nBlemish, not to attend the Duke of _York_ aboard the Fleet, who was then\ndeclared Admiral. With many others, I, at that Time about twenty Years\nof Age, enter'd my self a Voluntier on board the _London_, commanded by\nSir _Edward Sprage_, Vice-Admiral of the _Red_.\nThe Fleet set Sail from the _Buoy of the Nore_ about the beginning of\n_May_, in order to join the _French_ Fleet, then at Anchor in St.\n_Hellen's Road_, under the Command of the _Count de Estr\u00e9e_. But in\nexecuting this Design we had a very narrow Escape: For _De Ruyter_, the\nAdmiral of the _Dutch_ Fleet, having Notice of our Intentions, waited to\nhave intercepted us at the Mouth of the River, but by the Assistance of\na great Fog we pass'd _Dover_ before he was aware of it; and thus he\nmiscarried, with the poor Advantage of taking only one small Tender.\nA Day or two after the joining of the _English_ and _French_, we sailed\ndirectly towards the _Dutch_ Coast, where we soon got sight of their\nFleet; a Sand called the _Galloper_ lying between. The _Dutch_ seem'd\nwilling there to expect an Attack from us: But in regard the _Charles_\nMan of War had been lost on those Sands the War before; and that our\nShips drawing more Water than those of the Enemy, an Engagement might be\nrender'd very disadvantageous; it was resolv'd in a Council of War to\navoid coming to a Battle for the present, and to sail direftly for\n_Solebay_, which was accordingly put in Execution.\nWe had not been in _Solebay_ above four or five Days, when _De Ruyter_,\nhearing of it, made his Signal for sailing in order to surprize us; and\nhe had certainly had his Aim, had there been any Breeze of Wind to\nfavour him. But though they made use of all their Sails, there was so\nlittle Air stirring, that we could see their Fleet making towards us\nlong before they came up; notwithstanding which, our Admirals found\ndifficulty enough to form their Ships into a Line of Battle, so as to be\nready to receive the Enemy.\nIt was about Four in the Morning of the 28th of _May_, being _Tuesday_\nin _Whitson Week_, when we first made the Discovery; and about Eight the\nsame Morning the Blue Squadron, under the Command of the Earl of\n_Sandwich_, began to engage with Admiral _Van Ghent_, who commanded the\n_Amsterdam_ Squadron; and about Nine the whole Fleets were under a\ngeneral Engagement. The Fight lasted till Ten at Night, and with equal\nFury on all Sides, the _French_ excepted, who appeared stationed there\nrather as Spectators than Parties; and as unwilling to be too much upon\nthe Offensive, for fear of offending themselves.\nDuring the Fight the _English_ Admiral had two Ships disabled under him;\nand was obliged about Four in the Afternoon to remove himself a third\nTime into the _London_, where he remain'd all the rest of the Fight, and\ntill next Morning. Nevertheless, on his Entrance upon the _London_,\nwhich was the Ship I was in, and on our Hoisting the Standard, _De\nRuyter_ and his Squadron seem'd to double their Fire upon her, as if\nthey resolv'd to blow her out of the Water. Notwithstanding all which,\nthe Duke of _York_ remain'd all the time upon Quarter Deck, and as the\nBullets plentifully whizz'd around him, would often rub his Hands, and\ncry, _Sprage, Sprage, they follow us still_. I am very sensible later\nTimes have not been over favourable in their Sentiments of that\nunfortunate Prince's Valour, yet I cannot omit the doing a Piece of\nJustice to his Memory, in relating a Matter of Fact, of which my own\nEyes were Witnesses, and saying, That if Intrepidity, and Undauntedness,\nmay be reckon'd any Parts of Courage, no Man in the Fleet better\ndeserv'd the Title of Couragious, or behav'd himself with more Gallantry\nthan he did.\nThe _English_ lost the _Royal James_, commanded by the Earl of\n_Sandwich_, which about Twelve (after the strenuous Endeavours of her\nSailors to disengage her from two _Dutch_ Fire Ships plac'd on her, one\nathwart her Hawsers, the other on her Star-board Side) took Fire, blew\nup, and perish'd; and with her a great many brave Gentlemen, as well as\nSailors; and amongst the rest the Earl himself, concerning whom I shall\nfurther add, that in my Passage from _Harwich_ to the _Brill_, a Year or\ntwo after, the Master of the Pacquet Boat told me, That having observ'd\na great Flock of Gulls hovering in one particular Part of the Sea, he\norder'd his Boat to make up to it; when discovering a Corpse, the\nSailors would have return'd it to the Sea, as the Corpse of a _Dutch\nMan_; but keeping it in his Boat, it proved to be that of the Earl of\n_Sandwich_. There was found about him between twenty and thirty Guineas,\nsome Silver, and his Gold Watch; restoring which to his Lady, she kept\nthe Watch, but rewarded their Honesty with all the Gold and Silver.\nThis was the only Ship the _English_ lost in this long Engagement. For\nalthough the _Katherine_ was taken, and her Commander, Sir _John\nChicheley_, made Prisoner, her Sailors soon after finding the\nOpportunity they had watch'd for, seiz'd all the _Dutch_ Sailors, who\nhad been put in upon them, and brought the Ship back to our own Fleet,\ntogether with all the _Dutch Men_ Prisoners; for which, as they\ndeserv'd, they were well rewarded. This is the same Ship which the Earl\nof _Mulgrave_ (afterwards Duke of _Buckingham_) commanded the next Sea\nFight, and has caus'd to be painted in his House in St. _James's Park_.\nI must not omit one very remarkable Occurrence which happened in this\nShip, There was a Gentleman aboard her, a Voluntier, of a very fine\nEstate, generally known by the Name of _Hodge Vaughan_. This Person\nreceiv'd, in the beginning of the Fight, a considerable Wound, which the\ngreat Confusion, during the Battle, would not give them leave to inquire\ninto; so he was carried out of the Way, and disposed of in the Hold.\nThey had some Hogs aboard, which the Sailor, under whose Care they were,\nhad neglected to feed; these Hogs, hungry as they were, found out, and\nfell upon the wounded Person, and between dead and alive eat him up to\nhis very Scull, which, after the Fight was over, and the Ship retaken,\nas before, was all that could be found of him.\nAnother Thing, less to be accounted for, happen'd to a Gentleman\nVoluntier who was aboard the same Ship with my self. He was of known\npersonal Courage, in the vulgar Notion of it, his Sword never having\nfail'd him in many private Duels. But notwithstanding all his\nLand-mettle, it was observ'd of him at Sea, that when ever the Bullets\nwhizz'd over his Head, or any way incommoded his Ears, he immediately\nquitted the Deck, and ran down into the Hold. At first he was gently\nreproach'd; but after many Repetitions he was laugh'd at, and began to\nbe despis'd; sensible of which, as a Testimonial of his Valour, he made\nit his Request to be ty'd to the Main Mast. But had it been granted him,\nI cannot see any Title he could have pleaded from hence, to true\nMagnanimity; since to be ty'd from running away can import nothing less,\nthan that he would have still continued these Signs of Cowardice, if he\nhad not been prevented. There is a Bravery of Mind which I fansy few of\nthose Gentlemen Duellists are possess'd of. True Courage cannot proceed\nfrom what Sir _Walter Raleigh_ finely calls _the Art_ or _Philosophy of\nQuarrel_. No! It must be the Issue of Principle, and can have no other\nBasis than a steady Tenet of Religion. This will appear more plain, if\nthose Artists in Murder will give themselves leave cooly to consider,\nand answer me this Question, Why he that had ran so many Risques at his\nSword's Point, should be so shamefully intimidated at the Whiz of a\nCannon Ball?\n_The Names of those English Gentlemen who lost their Lives, as I\nremember, in this Engagement_.\nCommissioner Cox, Captain of the _Royal Prince_, under the Command of\nthe Admiral; and Mr. _Travanian_, Gentleman to the Duke of _York_; Mr.\n_Digby_, Captain of the _Henry_, second Son to the Earl of _Bristol_;\nSir _Fletchvile Hollis_, Captain of the _Cambridge_, who lost one of his\nArms in the War before, and his Life in this; Captain _Saddleton_, of\nthe _Dartmouth_; the Lord _Maidstone_, Son to the Earl of _Winchelsea_,\na Voluntier on board the _Charles_, commanded by Sir _John Harman_,\nVice-Admiral of the Red.\nSir _Philip Carteret_, Mr. _Herbert_, Mr. _Cotterel_, Mr. _Peyton_, Mr.\n_Gose_, with several other Gentlemen unknown to me, lost their Lives\nwith the Earl of _Sandwich_, on board the _Royal James_; Mr. _Vaughan_,\non board the _Katherine_, commanded by Sir _John Chicheley_.\nIn this Engagement, Sir _George Rook_ was youngest Lieutenant to Sir\n_Edward Sprage_; Mr. _Russel_, afterwards Earl of _Orford_, was Captain\nof a small Fifth Rate, called the _Phnix_; Mr. _Herbert_, afterwards\nEarl of _Torrington_, was Captain of a small Fourth Rate, called the\n_Monck_; Sir _Harry Dutton Colt_, who was on board the _Victory_,\ncommanded by the Earl of _Offery_, is the only Man now living that I can\nremember was in this Engagement.\nBut to proceed, the _Dutch_ had one Man of War sunk, though so near the\nShore, that I saw some part of her Main Mast remain above Water, with\ntheir Admiral _Van Ghent_, who was slain in the close Engagement with\nthe Earl of _Sandwich_. This Engagement lasted fourteen Hours, and was\nlook'd upon the greatest that ever was fought between the _English_ and\nthe _Hollander_.\nI cannot here omit one Thing, which to some may seem trifling; though I\nam apt to think our Naturalists may have a different Opinion of it, and\nfind it afford their Fansies no undiverting Employment in more curious,\nand less perilous Reflections. We had on board the _London_ where, as I\nhave said, I was a Voluntier, a great Number of Pidgeons, of which our\nCommander was very fond. These, on the first firing of our Cannon,\ndispers'd, and flew away, and were seen no where near us during the\nFight. The next Day it blew a brisk Gale, and drove our Fleet some\nLeagues to the Southward of the Place where they forsook our Ship, yet\nthe Day after they all returned safe aboard; not in one Flock, but in\nsmall Parties of four or five at a Time. Some Persons at that Time\naboard the Ship admiring at the Manner of their Return, and speaking of\nit with some Surprize, Sir _Edward Sprage_ told them, That he brought\nthose Pidgeons with him from the _Streights_; and that when, pursuant to\nhis Order, he left the _Revenge_ Man of War, to go aboard the _London_,\nall those Pidgeons, of their own accord, and without the Trouble or Care\nof carrying, left the _Revenge_ likewise, and removed with the Sailors\non board the _London_, where I saw them; All which many of the Sailors\nafterwards confirm'd to me. What Sort of Instinct this could proceed\nfrom, I leave to the Curious.\nSoon after this Sea Engagement I left the Fleet. And the Parliament, the\nWinter following, manifesting their Resentments against two of the\nPlenipotentiaries, _viz. Buckingham_ and _Arlington_, who had been sent\nover into _Holland_; and expressing, withal, their great Umbrage taken\nat the prodigious Progress of the _French_ Arms in the _United\nProvinces_; and warmly remonstrating the inevitable Danger attending\n_England_ in their Ruin. King _Charles_ from all this, and for want of\nthe expected Supplies, found himself under a Necessity of clapping up a\nspeedy Peace with _Holland_.\nThis Peace leaving those youthful Spirits, that had by the late Naval\nWar been rais'd into a generous Ferment, under a perfect Inactivity at\nHome; they found themselves, to avoid a Sort of Life that was their\nAversion, oblig'd to look out for one more active, and more suitable to\ntheir vigorous Tempers Abroad.\nI must acknowledge my self one of that Number; and therefore in the Year\n1674,1 resolv'd to go into _Flanders_, in order to serve as Voluntier in\nthe Army commanded by his Highness the Prince of _Orange_. I took my\nPassage accordingly at _Dover_ for _Calais_, and so went by way of\n_Dunkirk_ for _Brussels_.\nArriving at which Place, I was inform'd that the Army of the\nConfederates lay encamp'd not far from _Nivelle_; and under the daily\nExpectation of an Engagement with the Enemy. This News made me press\nforward to the Service; for which Purpose I carry'd along with me proper\nLetters of Recommendation to Sir _Walter Vane_, who was at that time a\nMajor-General. Upon further Enquiry I understood, that a Party of Horse,\nwhich was to guard some Waggons that were going to Count _Montery's_\nArmy, were to set out next Morning; so I got an _Irish_ Priest to\nintroduce me to the Commanding Officer, which he readily oblig'd me in;\nand they, as I wish'd them, arriv'd in the Camp next day.\nI had scarce been there an Hour, when happen'd one of the most\nextraordinary Accidents in Life. I observ'd in the East a strange dusty\ncolour'd Cloud, of a pretty large Extent, riding, not before the Wind\n(for it was a perfect Calm) with such a precipitate Motion, that it was\ngot over our Heads almost as soon as seen. When the Skirts of that Cloud\nbegan to cover our Camp, there suddenly arose such a terrible\nHurricaine, or Whirlwind, that all the Tents were carry'd aloft with\ngreat Violence into the Air; and Soldiers' Hats flew so high and thick,\nthat my Fansy can resemble it to nothing better than those Flights of\nRooks, which at Dusk of Evening, leaving the Fields, seek their roosting\nPlaces. Trees were torn up by the very Roots; and the Roofs of all the\nBarns, _&c._ belonging to the Prince's Quarters, were blown quite away.\nThis lasted for about half an Hour, until the Cloud was wholly past over\nus, when as suddenly ensued the same pacifik Calm as before the Cloud's\nApproach. Its Course was seemingly directly West; and yet we were soon\nafter inform'd, that the fine Dome of the great Church at _Utrecht_ had\ngreatly suffer'd by it the same Day. And, if I am not must mistaken, Sir\n_William Temple_, in his Memoirs, mentions somewhat of it, which he felt\nat _Lillo_, on his Return from the Prince of _Orange's_ Camp, where he\nhad been a Day or two before.\nAs soon after this, as I could get an Opportunity, I deliver'd, at his\nQuarters, my recommendatory Letters to Sir _Walter Vane_; who receiv'd\nme very kindly, telling me at the same time, that there were six or\nseven _English_ Gentlemen, who had enter'd themselves Voluntiers in the\nPrince's own Company of Guards: And added, that he would immediately\nrecommend me to Count _Solmes_, their Colonel. He was not worse than his\nWord, and I was enter'd accordingly. Those six Gentlemen were as\nfollows, ---- _Clavers_, who since was better known by the Title of Lord\n_Dundee_; Mr. _Collier_, now Lord _Portmore_; Mr. _Rooke_, since\nMajor-General; Mr. _Hales_, who lately died, and was for a long time\nGovernor of _Chelsea-Hospital_; Mr. _Venner_, Son of that _Venner_\nremarkable for his being one of the Fifth-Monarchy Men; and Mr. _Boyce_.\nThe four first rose to be very eminent; but Fortune is not to all alike\nfavourable.\nIn about a Week's Time after, it was resolv'd in a Council of War, to\nmarch towards _Binch_, a small wall'd Town, about four Leagues from\n_Nivelle_; the better to cut off the Provisions from coming to the\nPrince of _Cond\u00e9's_ Camp that Way.\nAccordingly, on the first Day of _August_, being _Saturday_, we began\nour March; and the _English_ Voluntiers had the Favour of a Baggage\nWaggon appointed them. Count _Souches_, the Imperial General, with the\nTroops of that Nation, led the Van; the main Body was compos'd of\n_Dutch_, under the Prince of _Orange_. as Generalissimo; and the\n_Spaniards_, under Prince _Vaudemont_, with some Detachments, made the\nRear Guard.\nAs we were upon our March, I being among those Detachments which made up\nthe Rear Guard, observ'd a great Party of the Enemy's Horse upon an\nAscent, which, I then imagin'd, as it after prov'd, to be the Prince of\n_Cond\u00e9_ taking a View of our Forces under March. There were many\nDefiles, which our Army must necessarily pass; through which that Prince\npolitickly enough permitted the _Imperial_ and _Dutch_ Forces to pass\nunmolested. But when Prince _Vaudemont_, with the _Spaniards_, and our\nDetachments, thought to have done the like, the Prince of _Cond\u00e9_ fell\non our Rear Guard; and, after a long and sharp Dispute, entirely routed\n'em; the Marquiss of _Assentar_, a _Spanish_ Lieutenant-General, dying\nupon the spot.\nHad the Prince of _Cond\u00e9_ contented himself with this Share of good\nFortune, his Victory had been uncontested: But being pushed forward by a\nvehement Heat of Temper (which he was noted for) and flush'd with this\nextraordinary Success, he resolv'd to force the whole Confederate Army\nto a Battle. In order to which, he immediately led his Forces between\nour Second Line, and our Line of Baggage; by which means the latter were\nentirely cut off; and were subjected to the Will of the Enemy, who fell\ndirectly to plunder; in which they were not a little assisted by the\nrouted _Spaniards_ themselves, who did not disdain at that time to share\nwith the Enemy in the plundering of their Friends and Allies.\nThe _English_ Voluntiers had their Share of this ill Fortune with the\nrest; their Waggon appointed them being among those intercepted by the\nEnemy; and I, for my Part, lost every Thing but Life, which yet was\nsaved almost as unaccountably as my Fellow-Soldiers had lost theirs. The\nBaggage, as I have said, being cut off, and at the Mercy of the Enemy,\nevery one endeavour'd to escape through, or over the Hedges. And as in\nall Cases of like Confusion, one endeavours to save himself upon the\nRuins of others: So here, he that found himself stopt by another in\ngetting over the Cap of a Hedge, pull'd him back to make way for\nhimself, and perhaps met with the same Fortune from a Third, to the\nDestruction of all. I was then in the Vigour of my Youth, and none of\nthe least active, and perceiving how it had far'd with some before me,\nI clapt my left Leg upon the Shoulders of one who was thus contending\nwith another, and with a Spring threw my self over both their Heads and\nthe Hedge at the same time. By this Means I not only sav'd my Life (for\nthey were all cut to Pieces that could not get over) but from an\nEminence, which I soon after attain'd, I had an Opportunity of seeing,\nand making my Observations upon the remaining Part of that glorious\nConflict.\nIt was from that advantageous Situation, that I presently discover'd\nthat the Imperialists, who led the Van, had now join'd the main Body.\nAnd, I confess, it was with an almost inexpressible Pleasure, that I\nbeheld, about three a-Clock, with what intrepid Fury they fell upon the\nEnemy. In short, both Armies were universally engag'd, and with great\nObstinacy disputed the Victory till Eleven at Night. At which Time the\n_French_, being pretty well surfeited, made their Retreat. Nevertheless,\nto secure it by a Stratagem, they left their lighted Matches hanging in\nthe Hedges, and waving with the Air, to conceal it from the Confederate\nArmy.\nAbout two Hours after, the Confederate Forces follow'd the Example of\ntheir Enemies, and drew off. And tho' neither Army had much Reason to\nboast; yet as the Prince of _Orange_ remained last in the Field; and die\n_French_ had lost what they before had gain'd, the Glory of the Day fell\nto the Prince of _Orange_; who, altho' but twenty-four Years of Age, had\nthe Suffrage of Friend and Foe, of having play'd the Part of an old and\nexperienc'd Officer.\nThere were left that Day on the Field of Battle, by a general\nComputation, not less than eighteen Thousand Men on both Sides, over and\nabove those, who died of their Wounds: The Loss being pretty equal, only\nthe _French_ carried off most Prisoners. Prince _Waldeck_ was shot\nthrough the Arm, which I was near enough to be an Eye-witness of; And my\nmuch lamented Friend, Sir _Walter Vane_, was carried off dead. A Wound\nin the Arm was all the Mark of Honour, that I as yet could boast of,\nthough our Cannon in the Defiles had slain many near me.\nThe Prince _of Cond\u00e9_ (as we were next Day inform'd) lay all that Night\nunder a Hedge, wrapp'd in his Cloke: And either from the Mortification\nof being disappointed in his Hopes of Victory; or from a Reflection of\nthe Disservice, which is own natural over Heat of Temper had drawn upon\nhim, was almost inconsolable many Days after. And thus ended the famous\nBattle of _Seneff_.\nBut though common Vogue has given it the Name of a Battle, in my weak\nOpinion, it might rather deserve that of a confus'd Skirmish; all Things\nhaving been forcibly carried on without Regularity, or even Design\nenough to allow it any higher Denomination: For, as I have said before,\nnotwithstanding I was advantagiously stationed for Observation, I found\nit very often impossible to distinguish one Party from another. And this\nwas more remarkably evident on the Part of the Prince of _Orange_, whose\nValour and Vigour having led him into the Middle of the Enemy, and being\nthen sensible of his Error, by a peculiar Presence of Mind, gave the\nWord of Command in _French_, which he spoke perfectly well. But the\n_French_ Soldiers, who took him for one of their own Generals, making\nAnswer, that their Powder was all spent, it afforded Matter of\nInstruction to him to persist in his Attack; at the same Time, that it\ngave him a Lesson of Caution, to withdraw himself, as soon as he could,\nto his own Troops.\nHowever, the Day after the Prince of _Orange_ thought proper to march to\n_Quarignan_, a Village within a League of _Mons_; where he remain'd some\nDays, till he could be supply'd from _Brussells_ with those Necessaries\nwhich his Army stood in need of.\nFrom thence we march'd to _Valenciennes_, where we again encamp'd, till\nwe could receive Things proper for a Siege. Upon the Arrival whereof,\nthe Prince gave Orders to decamp, and march'd his Army with a Design to\nbesiege _Aeth_. But having Intelligence on our March, that the Mareschal\n_De Humiers_ had reinforc'd that Garrison, we march'd directly to\n_Oudenard_, and immediately invested it.\nThis Siege was carried on with such Application and Success, that the\nBesiegers were in a few Days ready for a Storm; but the Prince of\n_Cond\u00e9_ prevented them, by coming up to its Relief. Upon which the\nPrince of _Orange_, pursuant to the Resolution of a Council of War the\nNight before, drew off his Forces in order to give him Battle; and to\nthat purpose, after the laborious Work of filling up our Lines of\nContravallation, that the Horse might pass more freely, we lay upon our\nArms all Night. Next Morning we expected the Imperial General, Count\n_Souches_, to join us; but instead of that, he sent back some very\nfrivolous Excuses, of the Inconveniency of the Ground for a Battle; and\nafter that, instead of joining the Prince, marched off quite another\nway; the Prince of _Orange_, with the _Dutch_ and _Spanish_ Troops,\nmarched directly for _Ghent_; exclaiming publickly against the Chicanery\nof _Souches_, and openly declaring, That he had been advertis'd of a\nConference between a _French_ Capuchin and that General, the Night\nbefore. Certain it is, that that General lay under the Displeasure of\nhis Master, the Emperor, for that Piece of Management; and the Count _de\nSporck_ was immediately appointed General in his Place.\nThe Prince of _Orange_ was hereupon leaving the Army in great Disgust,\ntill prevail'd upon by the Count _de Montery_, for the general Safety,\nto recede from that Resolution. However, seeing no likelihood of any\nThing further to be done, while _Souches_ was in Command, he resolv'd\nupon a Post of more Action, though more dangerous; wherefore ordering\nten Thousand Men to march before, he himself soon after foliow'd to the\nSiege of _Grave_.\nThe _Grave_, a strong Place, and of the first Moment to the\n_Hollanders_, had been block'd up by the _Dutch_ Forces all the Summer;\nthe Prince of _Orange_ therefore leaving the main Army under Prince\n_Waldeck_ at _Ghent_, follow'd the Detachment he had made for the Siege\nof that important Place, resolving to purchase it at any Rate. On his\nArrival before it, Things began to find new Motion; and as they were\ncarried on with the utmost Application and Fury, the Besieged found\nthemselves, in a little Time, oblig'd to change their haughty Summer\nNote for one more suitable to the Season.\nThe Prince, from his first coming, having kept those within hotly ply'd\nwith Ball, both from Cannon and Mortars, Monsieur _Chamilly_, the\nGovernor, after a few Days, being weary of such warm Work, desired to\ncapitulate; upon which Hostages were exchanged, and Articles agreed on\nnext Morning. Pursuant to which, the Garrison march'd out with Drums\nbeating and Colours flying, two Days after, and were conducted to\n_Charleroy_.\nBy the taking this Place, which made the Prince of _Orange_ the more\nearnest upon it, the _French_ were wholly expell'd their last Year's\nastonishing Conquests in _Holland_. And yet there was another\nConsideration, that render'd the Surrender of it much more considerable.\nFor the _French_ being sensible of the great Strength of this Place, had\nthere deposited all their Cannon and Ammunition, taken from their other\nConquests in _Holland_, which they never were able to remove or carry\noff, with tolerable Prospect of Safety, after that Prince's Army first\ntook the Field.\nThe Enemy being march'd out, the Prince enter'd the Town, and\nimmediately order'd public Thanksgivings for its happy Reduction. Then\nhaving appointed a Governor, and left a sufficient Garrison, he put an\nEnd to that Campaign, and return'd to the _Hague_, where he had not been\nlong before he fell ill of the Small Pox. The Consternation this threw\nthe whole Country into, is not to be express'd; Any one that had seen it\nwould have thought, that the _French_ had made another Inundation\ngreater than the former. But when the Danger was over, their Joy and\nSatisfaction, for his Recovery, was equally beyond Expression.\nThe Year 1675 yielded very little remarkable in our Army. _Limburgh_ was\nbesieged by the _French_, under the Command of the Duke of _Enguien_,\nwhich the Prince of _Orange_ having Intelligence of, immediately\ndecamp'd from his fine Camp at _Bethlem_, near _Louvain_, in order to\nraise the Siege. But as we were on a full March for that purpose, and\nhad already reach'd _Ruremond_, Word was brought, that the Place had\nsurrender'd the Day before. Upon which Advice, the Prince, after a short\nHalt, made his little Army (for it consisted not of more than thirty\nThousand Men) march back to _Brabant_. Nothing of moment, after this,\noccurr'd all that Campaign.\nIn the Year 1676, the Prince of _Orange_ having, in concert with the\n_Spaniards_, resolv'd upon the important Siege of _Maestrich_ (the only\nTown in the _Dutch_ Provinces, then remaining in the Hands of the\n_French_) it was accordingly invested about the middle of _June_, with\nan Army of twenty Thousand Men, under the Command of his Highness Prince\n_Waldeck_, with the grand Army covering the Siege. It was some Time\nbefore the heavy Cannon, which we expected up the _Maes_, from\n_Holland_, arrived; which gave Occasion to a Piece of Raillery of\nMonsieur _Calvo_, the Governor, which was as handsomely repartec'd. That\nGovernor, by a Messenger, intimating his Sorrow to find, we had pawn'd\nour Cannon for Ammunition Bread. Answer was made, That in a few Days we\nhoped to give him a Taste of the Loaves, which he should find would be\nsent him into the Town in extraordinary plenty. I remember another Piece\nof Raillery, which pass'd some Days after between the _Rhingrave_ and\nthe same _Calvo_. The former sending Word, that he hoped within three\nWeeks to salute that Governor's Mistress within the Place. _Calvo_\nreply'd, He'd give him leave to kiss her all over, if he kiss'd her any\nwhere in three Months.\nBut our long expected Artillery being at last arriv'd, all this Jest and\nMerriment was soon converted into earnest. Our Trenches were immediately\nopen'd towards the _Dauphin_ Bastion, against which were planted many\nCannon, in order to make a Breach; my self as a Probationer being twice\nput upon the forlorn Hope to facilitate that difficult Piece of Service.\nNor was it long before such a Breach was effected, as was esteem'd\npracticable, and therefore very soon after it was ordered to be\nattack'd.\nThe Disposition for the Attack was thus ordered; two Serjeants with\ntwenty Grenadiers, a Captain with fifty Men, my self one of the Number;\nthen a Party carrying Wool Sacks, and after them two Captains with one\nHundred Men more; the Soldiers in the Trenches to be ready to sustain\nthem, as Occasion should require.\nThe Signal being given, we left our Trenches accordingly, having about\none Hundred Yards to run, before we could reach the Breach, which we\nmounted with some Difficulty and Loss; all our Batteries firing at the\nsame instant to keep our Action in countenance, and favour our Design.\nWhen we were in Possession of the Bastion, the Enemy fir'd most\nfuriously upon us with their small Cannon through a thin brick Wall, by\nwhich, and their hand Grenadoes, we lost more Men than we did in the\nAttack it self.\nBut well had it been had our ill Fortune stopp'd there; for as if\nDisaster must needs be the Concomitant of Success, we soon lost what we\nhad thus gotten, by a small, but very odd Accident. Not being furnished\nwith such Scoopes as our Enemies made use of, in tossing their hand\nGrenadoes some distance off, one of our own Soldiers aiming to throw one\nover the Wall into the Counterscarp among the Enemy, it so happen'd that\nhe unfortunately miss'd his Aim, and the Grenade fell down again on our\nside the Wall, very near the Person who fir'd it. He starting back to\nsave himself, and some others who saw it fall, doing the like, those who\nknew nothing of the Matter fell into a sudden Confusion, and imagining\nsome greater danger than there really was, every body was struck with a\npanick Fear, and endeavour'd to be the first who should quit the\nBastion, and secure himself by a real Shame from an imaginary Evil. Thus\nwas a Bastion, that had been gloriously gain'd, inadvertently deserted;\nand that too, with the Loss of almost as many Men in the Retreat, as had\nbeen slain in the Onset, and the Enemy most triumphantly again took\nPossession of it.\nAmong the Slain on our Side in this Action, was an Ensign of Sir _John\nFenwick_'s Regiment; and as an Approbation of my Services his Commission\nwas bestowed upon me.\nA few Days after it was resolv'd again to storm that Bastion, as before;\nout of three _English_, and one _Scotch_ Regiment, then in the Camp, a\nDetachment was selected for a fresh Attack. Those Regiments were under\nthe Command of Sir _John Fenwick_ (who was afterwards beheaded) Colonel\n_Ralph Widdrington_, and Colonel _Ashley_, of the _English_; and Sir\n_Alexander Collier_, Father of the present Lord _Portmore_, of the\n_Scotch_. Out of every of these four Regiments, as before, were detach'd\na Captain, a Lieutenant, and an Ensign, with fifty Men: Captain _Anthony\nBamwell_, of Sir _John Fenwick's_ Regiment, who was now my Captain,\ncommanding that Attack.\nAt break of Day the Attack was begun with great Resolution; and though\nvigorously maintain'd, was attended with the desir'd Success. The\nBastion was again taken, and in it the commanding Officer, who in\nService to himself, more than to us, told us, that the Center of the\nBastion would soon be blown up being to his Knowledge undermin'd for\nthat purpose. But this Secret prov'd of no other use, than to make us,\nby way of Precaution, to keep as much as we could upon the Rampart. In\nthis Attack Captain _Barnwell_ lost his Life; and it happened my new\nCommission was wetted (not, as too frequently is the Custom, with a\nDebauch) but with a Bullet through my Hand, and the Breach of my Collar\nBone with the Stroke of a Halberd.\nAfter about half an hour's Possession of the Bastion, the Mine under it,\nof which the _French_ Officer gave us warning, was sprung; the Enemy at\nthe same Time making a furious Sally upon us. The Mine did a little,\nthough the less, Execution, for being discovered; but the Sally no way\nanswer'd their End, for we beat them back, and immediately fix'd our\nLodgment; which we maintain'd during the Time of the Siege. But to our\ndouble Surprize, a few Days after they fir'd another Mine under, or\naside, the former, in which they had plac'd a quantity of Grenadoes,\nwhich did much more Execution than the other: Notwithstanding all which,\na Battery of Guns was presently erected upon that Bastion, which very\nconsiderably annoy'd the Enemy.\nThe Breach for a general Storm was now render'd almost practicable; yet\nbefore that could be advisably attempted, there was a strong Horn-work\nto be taken. Upon this Exploit the _Dutch_ Troops only were to signalize\nthemselves; and they answered the Confidence repos'd in them; for though\nthey were twice repuls'd, at the third Onset they were more successful,\nand took Possession; which they likewise kept to the Raising of the\nSiege.\nThere was a Stratagem lay'd at this Time, which in its own Merit one\nwould have thought should not have fail'd of a good Effect; but to shew\nthe Vanity of the highest human Wisdom it miscarry'd. On the other side\nof the _Maes_, opposite to _Maestrich_, lies the strong Fortress of\n_Wyck_, to which it is join'd by a stone Bridge of six fair Arches. The\ndesign was, by a false Attack on that regular Fortification to draw the\nStrength of the Garrison to its Defence, which was but very natural to\nimagine would be the Consequence. Ready to attend that well concerted\nfalse Attack, a large flat bottom'd Boat, properly furnish'd with\nBarrels of Gun-Powder, and other Necessaries, was to fall down under one\nof the middle Arches, and when fix'd there, by firing the Powder to have\nblown up the Bridge, and by that means to have prevented the Return of\nthe Garrison to oppose a real Attack at that instant of Time to be made\nupon the Town of _Maestrich_ by the whole Army.\nThe false Attack on _Wyck_ was accordingly made, which, as propos'd,\ndrew the Main of the Garrison of _Maestrich_ to its Defence, and the\nBoat so furnish'd fell down the River as projected, but unfortunately,\nbefore it could reach the Arch, from the Darkness of the Night, running\nupon a Shoal, it could not be got off; for which Reason the Men in the\nBoat were glad to make a hasty Escape for fear of being discovered; as\nthe Boat was, next Morning; and the whole Design laid open.\nThis Stratagem thus miscarrying, all Things were immediately got ready\nfor a general Storm, at the main Breach in the Town; and the rather,\nbecause the Prince of _Orange_ had receiv'd incontestable Intelligence,\nThat Duke _Schomberg_, at the Head of the _French_ Army, was in full\nmarch to relieve the Place. But before every Thing could be rightly got\nready for the intended Storm (though some there were who pretended to\nsay, that a Dispute rais'd by the _Spaniards_ with the _Dutch_, about\nthe Propriety of the Town, when taken, was the Cause of that Delay) we\nheard at some distance several Guns fir'd as Signals of Relief; upon\nwhich we precipitately, and, as most imagin'd, shamefully drew off from\nbefore the Place, and join'd the grand Army under Prince _Waldeck_. But\nit was Matter of yet greater Surprize to most on the Spot, that when the\nArmies were so joyn'd, we did not stay to offer the Enemy Battle. The\nwell known Courage of the Prince, then Generalissimo, was so far from\nsolving this Riddle, that it rather puzzled all who thought of it;\nhowever, the prevailing Opinion was, that it was occasion'd by some\ngreat Misunderstanding between the _Spaniards_ and the _Dutch_. And\nExperience will evince, that this was not the only Disappointment of\nthat Nature, occasion'd by imperfect Understandings.\nBesides the Number of common Soldiers slain in this Attack, which was\nnot inconsiderable, we lost here the brave _Rhingrave_, a Person much\nlamented on account of his many other excellent Qualifications, as well\nas that of a General. Colonel _Ralph Widdrington_, and Colonel _Doleman_\n(who had not enjoy'd _Widdrington's_ Commission above a Fortnight).\nCaptain _Douglas_, Captain _Barnwell_, and Captain _Lee_, were of the\nSlain among the _English_; who, indeed, had born the whole brunt of the\nAttack upon the _Dauphin_'s Bastion.\nI remember the Prince of _Orange_, during the Siege, receiv'd a Shot\nthrough his Arm; which giving an immediate Alarm to the Troops under his\nCommand, he took his Hat off his Head with the wounded Arm, and smiling,\nwav'd it, to shew them there was no danger. Thus, after the most gallant\nDefence against the most couragious Onsets, ended the Siege of\n_Maestrich_; and with it all that was material that Campaign.\nEarly in the Spring, in the Year 1677, the _French_ Army, under the Duke\nof _Orleans_, besieged at once, both _Cambray_ and _Saint Omers_. This\nlast the Prince of _Orange_ seem'd very intent and resolute to relieve.\nIn order to which, well knowing by sad Experience, it would be to little\npurpose to wait the majestick Motions of the _Spaniards_, that Prince\ngot together what Forces he could, all in _Dutch_ Pay, and marching\nforward with all speed, resolv'd, even at the Hazard of a Battle, to\nattempt the Raising the Siege. Upon his appearing the Duke of _Orleans_,\nto whose particular Conduct the Care of that Siege was committed, drew\noff from before the Place, leaving scarce enough of his Men to defend\nthe Trenches. The Prince was under the Necessity of marching his Forces\nover a Morass; and the Duke, well knowing it, took care to attack him\nnear _Mont Cassel_, before half his little Army were got over. The\nDispute was very sharp, but the Prince being much out number'd, and his\nTroops not able, by the Straitness of the Passage, to engage all at\nonce, was oblig'd at last to retreat, which he did in pretty good Order.\nI remember the _Dutch_ Troops did not all alike do their Duty; and the\nPrince seeing one of the Officers on his fullest speed, call'd to him\nover and over to halt; which the Officer in too must haste to obey, the\nPrince gave him a Slash over the Face, saying, _By this Mark I shall\nknow you another Time_. Soon after this Retreat of the Prince, Saint\n_Omers_ was surrender'd.\nUpon this Retreat the Prince marching back, lay for some time among the\nBoors, who from the good Discipline, which he took care to make his\nTroops observe, did not give us their customary boorish Reception. And\nyet as secure as we might think our selves, I met with a little Passage\nthat confirm'd in me the Notions, which the generality as well as I, had\nimbib'd of the private Barbarity of those People, whenever an\nOpportunity falls in their Way. I was stroling at a Distance from my\nQuarters, all alone, when I found my self near one of their Houses; into\nwhich, the Doors being open, I ventur'd to enter. I saw no body when I\ncame in, though the House was, for that Sort of People, well enough\nfurnish'd, and in pretty decent Order. I call'd, but no body answering,\nI had the Curiosity to advance a little farther, when, at the Mouth of\nthe Oven, which had not yet wholly lost its Heat, I spy'd the Corpse of\na Man so bloated, swoln and parch'd, as left me little room to doubt,\nthat the Oven had been the Scene of his Destiny. I confess the Sight\nstruck me with Horror; and as much Courage and Security as I enter'd\nwith, I withdrew in haste, and with quite different Sentiments, and\ncould not fansy my self out of Danger till I had reach'd our Camp. A\nwise Man should not frame an Accusation on Conjectures; but, on Inquiry,\nI was soon made sensible, that such barbarous Usage is too common among\nthose People; especially if they meet with a Straggler, of what Nation\nsoever.\nThis made me not very sorry when we decamp'd, and we soon after receiv'd\nOrders to march and invest _Charleroy_; before which Place we stay'd\nsomewhat above a Week, and then drew off. I remember very well, that I\nwas not the only Person then in the Camp that was at a Loss to dive into\nthe Reason of this Investiture and Decampment: But since I at that time,\namong the Politicians of the Army, never heard a good one, I shall not\nventure to offer my Sentiments at so great a Distance.\nWe, after this march'd towards _Mons_; and, in our March, pass'd over\nthe very Grounds on which the Battle of _Seneff_ had been fought three\nYears before. It was with no little Pleasure, that I re-survey'd a\nPlace, that had once been of so much Danger to me; and where my Memory\nand Fansy now repeated back all those Observations I had then made under\nsome unavoidable Confusion. Young as I was, both in Years and\nExperience, from my own Reflections, and the Sentiments of others, after\nthe Fight was over, methought I saw visibly before me the well order'd\nDisposition of the Prince of _Cond\u00e9_; the inexpressible Difficulties\nwhich the Prince of _Orange_ had to encounter with; while at the same\nMoment I could not omit to repay my Debt to the Memory of my first\nPatron, Sir _Walter Vane_, who there loosing his Life, left me a\nsolitary Wanderer to the wide World of Fortune.\nBut these Thoughts soon gave place to new Objects, which every Hour\npresented themselves in our continu'd March to _Enghien_, a Place famous\nfor the finest Gardens in all _Flanders_, near which we encamp'd, on the\nvery same Ground which the _French_ chose some Years after at the Battle\nof _Steenkirk_: of which I shall speak in its proper Place. Here the\nPrince of _Orange_ left our Army, as we afterwards found, to pass into\n_England_; where he marry'd the Princess _Mary_, Daughter of the Duke of\n_York_. And after his Departure, that Campaign ended without any thing\nfurther material.\nNow began the Year 1678, famous for the Peace, and no less remarkable\nfor an Action previous to it, which has not fail'd to employ the Talents\nof Men, variously, as they stood affected. Our Army, under the Prince of\n_Orange_, lay encamp'd at _Soignies_, where it was whisper'd that the\nPeace was concluded. Notwithstanding which, two Days after, being\n_Sunday_ the 17th Day of _August_, the Army was drawn out, as most\nothers as well as my self apprehended, in order to _feux de Joye_; but\nin lieu of that, we found our March order'd towards St. _Dennis_, where\nthe Duke of _Luxembourg_ lay, as he imagin'd, safe in inaccessible\nEntrenchments.\nAbout three of the Clock our Army arriv'd there, when we receiv'd Orders\nto make the Attack. It began with a most vigorous Spirit, that promis'd\nno less than the Success which ensu'd. The three _English_ and three\n_Scotch_ Regiments, under the Command of the ever renown'd Earl of\n_Ossory_, together with the Prince of _Orange_'s Guards, made their\nAttack at a Place call'd the _Ch\u00e2teau_; where the _French_ took their\nRefuge among a Parcel of Hop-Poles; but their Resource was as weak as\ntheir Defence; and they were soon beaten out with a very great\nSlaughter.\nIt was here that a _French_ Officer having his Pistol directed at the\nBreast of the Prince, Monsieur _D'Auverquerque_ interpos'd, and shot the\nOfficer dead upon the Spot.\nThe Fight lasted from three in the Afternoon till Nine at Night; when\ngrowing dark, the Duke of _Luxembourg_ forsook his Entrenchments, into\nwhich we march'd next Morning. And to see the sudden Change of Things!\nthat very Spot of Ground, where nothing but Fire and Fury appear'd the\nDay before, the yest saw solac'd with the Proclamation of a Peace.\nAbout an Hour before the Attack began, the Duke of _Monmouth_ arriv'd in\nthe Army, being kindly receiv'd by the Prince of _Orange_, bravely\nfighting by his Side, all that Day. The Woods and the Unevenness of the\nGround, render'd the Cavalry almost useless; yet I saw a Standard, among\nsome others, which was taken from the Enemy, being richly embroidered\nwith Gold and Silver, bearing the Sun in the Zodiack, with these haughty\nWords, _Nihil obstabit eunte_. On the News of this unexpected Victory,\nthe States of _Holland_ sent to congratulate the Prince; and to testify\nhow much they valued his Preservation, they presented Monsieur\n_D'Auverquerque,_ who had so bravely rescued him, with a Sword, whose\nHandle was of massy Gold set with Diamonds. I forgot to mention that\nthis Gentleman receiv'd a Shot on his Head at the Battle of _Seneff_;\nand truly in all Actions, which were many, he nobly distinguished\nhimself by his Bravery. He was Father of this present Earl of\n_Grantham_.\n_The Names of the English Officers which I knew to be killed in this\nAction_.\nLieut. Col. Archer,      Capt. Pemfield,\nCapt. Charleton,         Lieut. Charleton,\nCapt. Richardson,        Lieut. Barton,\nCapt. Fisher,            Ensign Colville.\nWith several others, whose Names I have forgot.\nLieut. Col. _Babington_, who began the Attack, by beating the _French_\nout of the Hop Garden, was taken Prisoner. Col. _Hales_, who was a long\ntime Governor of _Chelsea College_, being then a Captain, received a\nShot on his Leg, of which he went lame to his dying Day.\nThe War thus ended by the Peace of _Nimeugen_, The Regiment in which I\nserv'd, was appointed to be in Garrison at the _Grave_. We lay there\nnear four Years, our Soldiers being mostly employ'd about the\nFortifications. It was here, and by that Means, that I imbib'd the\nRudiments of Fortification, and the practick Part of an Enginier, which\nin my more advanc'd Years was of no small Service to me.\nNevertheless, in the Year 1684, our Regiment receiv'd Orders to march to\n_Haren_, near _Brussels_, where, with other Forces, we encamp'd, till we\nheard that _Luxemburg_, invaded by the _French,_ in a Time of the\nprofoundest Peace, had surrender'd to them. Then we decamp'd, and\nmarch'd to _Mechlin_; where we lay in the Field till near _November_.\nNot that there was any War proclaim'd; but as not knowing, whether those\nwho had committed such Acts of Hostility in time of Peace might not take\nit in their Heads to proceed yet further. In _November_ we march'd into\nthat Town, where Count _Nivelle_ was Governor: The Marquiss _de Grana_,\nat the same time, governing the _Netherlands_ in the Jurisdiction of\n_Spain_.\nNothing of any Moment happen'd after this, till the Death of King\n_Charles_ II. The Summer after which, the three _English_ and three\n_Scotch_ Regiments receiv'd Orders to pass over into _England_, upon the\nOccasion of _Monmouth's_ Rebellion; where, upon our Arrival, we receiv'd\nOrders to encamp on _Hounslow-Heath_. But that Rebellion being soon\nstifled, and King _James_ having no farther Need of us, those Regiments\nwere order'd to return again to _Holland_, into the proper Service of\nthose who paid them.\nTho' I am no stiff Adherer to the Doctrine of Predestination, yet to the\nfull Assurance of a Providence I never could fail to adhere. Thence came\nit, that my natural Desire to serve my own native Country prevail'd upon\nme to quit the Service of another, though its Neighbour and Allie.\nEvents are not always to direct the Judgment; and therefore whether I\ndid best in following those fondling Dictates of Nature, I shall neither\nquestion nor determine.\nHowever, it was not long after my Arrival in _England_ before I had a\nCommission given me by King _James_, to be a Lieutenant in a new rais'd\nRegiment under the Command of Colonel _Tufton_, Brother to the Earl of\n_Thanet_. Under this Commission I sojourn'd out two peaceable Campaigns\non _Hounslow-Heath;_ where I was an Eye-Witness of one mock Siege of\n_Buda_: After which our Regiment was order'd to _Berwick_, where I\nremained till the Revolution.\nKing _James_ having abdicated the Throne, and the Prince of _Orange_\naccepting the Administration, all Commissions were order'd to be renew'd\nin his Name. The Officers of our Regiment, as well as others, severally\ntook out theirs accordingly, a very few excepted, of which Number was\nour Colonel; who refusing a Compliance, his Commission was given to Sir\n_James Lesley._\nThe Prince of _Orange_ presently after was declar'd and proclaim'd King,\nand his Princess Queen, with a conjunctive Power. Upon which our\nRegiment was order'd into _Scotland_, where Affairs appear'd under a\nFace of Disquietude. We had our Quarters at _Leith_, till the Time the\nCastle of _Edinburgh_, then under the Command of the Duke of _Gordon_,\nhad surrender'd. After which, pursuant to fresh Orders, we march'd to\n_Inverness_, a Place of no great Strength, and as little Beauty; though\nyet I think I may say, without the least Danger of an _Hyperbole_, that\nit is as pleasant as most Places in that Country. Here we lay two long\nWinters, perpetually harrass'd upon Parties, and hunting of somewhat\nwilder than their wildest Game, namely, the _Highlanders,_ who were, if\nnot as nimble footed, yet fully as hard to be found.\nBut General _Mackay_ having receiv'd Orders to build a Fort at\n_Inverlochy_, our Regiment, among others, was commanded to that Service.\nThe two Regiments appointed on the same Duty, with some few Dragoons,\nwere already on their March, which having join'd, we march'd together\nthrough _Louquebar_. This sure is the wildest Country in the\n_Highlands_, if not in the World. I did not see one House in all our\nMarch; and their Oeconomy, if I may call it such, is much the same with\nthat of the _Arabs_ or _Tartars_. Hutts, or Cabins of Trees and Trash,\nare their Places of Habitation; in which they dwell, till their\nhalf-horn'd Cattle have devour'd the Grass, and then remove, staying no\nwhere longer than that Convenience invites them.\nIn this March, or rather, if you please, most dismal Peregrination, we\ncould be very rarely go two on a Breast; and oftner, like Geeze in a\nString, one after another. So that our very little Army had sometimes,\nor rather most commonly, an Extent of many Miles; our Enemy, the\n_Highlanders_, firing down upon us from their Summits all the Way. Nor\nwas it possible for our Men, or very rarely at least, to return their\nFavours with any Prospect of Success; for as they pop'd upon us always\non a sudden, they never stay'd long enough to allow any of our Soldiers\na Mark; or even time enough to fire: And for our Men to march, or climb\nup those Mountains, which to them were natural Champion, would have been\nas dangerous as it seem'd to us impracticable. Nevertheless, under all\nthese disheartning Disadvantages, we arriv'd at _Inverlochy_, and there\nperform'd the Task appointed, building a Fort on the same Spot where\n_Cromwell_ had rais'd one before. And which was not a little remarkable,\nwe had with us one _Hill_, a Colonel, who had been Governor in\n_Oliver's_ Time, and who was now again appointed Governor by General\n_Mackay_. Thus the Work on which we were sent being effected, we march'd\nback again by the Way of _Gillycrancky_, where that memorable Battle\nunder _Dundee_ had been fought the Year before.\nSome time after, Sir _Thomas Levingston_, afterwards Earl of _Tiviot_,\nhaving receiv'd Intelligence that the _Highlanders_ intended to fall\ndown into the lower Countries, in a considerable Body, got together a\nParty of about five Hundred (the Dragoons, call'd the _Scotch Greys_,\ninclusive) with which he resolv'd, if possible, to give them a Meeting.\nWe left _Inverness_ the last Day of _April_, and encamp'd near a little\nTown call'd _Forrest_, the Place where, as Tradition still confidently\navers, the Witches met _Mackbeth_, and greeted him with their diabolical\nAuspices. But this Story is so naturally display'd in a Play of the\nimmortal _Shakespear_, that I need not descend here to any farther\nParticulars.\nHere Sir _Thomas_ receiv'd Intelligence, that the _Highlanders_ design'd\nto encamp upon the _Spey_, near the Laird of _Grant's_ Castle. Whereupon\nwe began our March about Noon; and the next Day, about the Break\nthereof, we came to that River, where we soon discover'd the\n_Highlanders_ by their Fires. Sir _Thomas_ immediately, on Sight of it,\nissued his Orders for our fording the River, and falling upon them as\nsoon after as possible. Both were accordingly perform'd, and with so\ngood Order, Secrecy and Success, that _Cannon_ and _Balfour_, their\nCommanders, were obliged to make their Escape naked.\nThey were about one Thousand in Number, of which were kill'd about three\nHundred; we pursued them, till they got up _Crowdale-Hill,_ where we\nlost them in a Fog. And, indeed so high is that Hill, that they, who\nperfectly knew it, assured me that it never is without a little dark Fog\nhanging over it. And to me, at that Instant of Time, they seem'd rather\nto be People receiv'd up into Clouds, than flying from an Enemy.\nNear this there was an old Castle, call'd _Lethendy_, into which about\nFifty of them made their Retreat, most of them Gentlemen, resolving\nthere to defend themselves to the last. Sir _Thomas_ sent a Messenger to\nthem, with an Offer of Mercy, if they would surrender: But they refus'd\nthe profer'd Quarter, and fir'd upon our Men, killing two of our\nGrenadiers, and wounding another. During my Quarters at the _Grave_,\nhaving learnt to throw a Grenado, I took three or four in a Bag, and\ncrept down by the Side of a Ditch, or Dyke, to an old thatch'd House\nnear the Castle, imagining, on my mounting the same, I might be near\nenough to throw them, so as to do execution. I found all Things answer\nmy Expectation; and the Castle wanting a Cover, I threw in a Grenado,\nwhich put the Enemy immediately into Confusion. The Second had not so\ngood Success, falling short, and the Third burst as soon as it was well\nout of my Hand, though without Damage to my self. But throwing the\nFourth in at a Window, it so increas'd the Confusion, which the first\nhad put them into, that they immediately call'd out to me, upon their\nParole of Safety, to come to them.\nAccordingly I went up to the Door, which they had barricaded, and made\nup with great Stones; when they told me they were ready to surrender\nupon Condition of obtaining Mercy. I return'd to Sir _Thomas_; and\ntelling him what I had done, and the Consequence of it, and the Message\nthey had desir'd me to deliver (a great many of the _Highland_\nGentlemen, not of this Party, being with him) Sir _Thomas_, in a high\nVoice, and broad _Scotch_, best to be heard and understood, order'd me\nback to tell 'em, _He would cut them all to Pieces, for their Murder of\ntwo of his Grenadiers, after his Proffer of Quarter_.\nI was returning full of these melancholy Tidings, when Sir _Thomas_,\nadvancing after me a little Distance from the rest of the Company; _Hark\nye, Sir_, says he, _I believe there may be among 'em some of our old\nAcquaintance_ (for we had serv'd together in the Service of the _States_\nin _Flanders_) _therefore tell them they shall have good Quarter_. I\nvery willingly carry'd back a Message to much chang'd to my Mind; and\nupon delivering of it, without the least Hesitation, they threw down the\nBarricado, open'd the Door, and out came one _Brody_, who, as he then\ntold me, had had a Piece of his Nose taken off by one of my Grenadoes. I\ncarry'd him to Sir _Thomas_, who confirming my Message, they all came\nout, and surrendered themselves Prisoners. This happen'd on _May Day_ in\nthe Morning; for which Reason we return'd to _Inverness_ with our\nPrisoners, and Boughs in our Hats; and the _Highlanders_ never held up\ntheir Heads so high after this Defeat.\nUpon this Success Sir _Thomas_ wrote to Court, giving a full Account of\nthe whole Action. In which being pleas'd to make mention of my\nBehaviour, with some Particularities, I had soon after a Commission\norder'd me for a Company in the Regiment under the Command of Brigadier\n_Tiffin_.\nMy Commission being made out, sign'd, and sent to me, I repair'd\nimmediately to _Portsmouth_, where the Regiment lay in Garrison. A few\nDays after I had been there, Admiral _Russel_ arriv'd with the Fleet,\nand anchor'd at St. _Hellen's_, where he remain'd about a Week. On the\n18th of _May_ the whole Fleet set Sail; and it being my Turn the same\nDay to mount the Main Guard, I was going the Rounds very early, when I\nheard great shooting at Sea. I went directly to acquaint the Governor,\nand told him my Sentiments, that the two contending Fleets were actually\nengag'd, which indeed prov'd true; for that very Night a Pinnace, which\ncame from our Fleet, brought News that Admiral _Russel_ had engag'd the\n_French_ Admiral _Turvile_; and, after a long and sharp Dispute, was\nmaking after them to their own Coasts.\nThe next Day, towards Evening, several other Expresses arriv'd, one\nafter another, all agreeing in the Defeat of the _French_ Fleet, and in\nthe Particulars of the burning their _Rising Sun_, together with many\nother of their Men of War, at _la Hogue_. All which Expresses were\nimmediately forwarded to Court by Mr. _Gibson_, our Governor.\nAbout two Months after this, our Regiment, among many others, was,\naccording to Order, shipp'd off on a Secret Expedition, under the\nCommand of the Duke of _Leinster_, no Man knowing to what Place we were\ngoing, or on what Design; no, not the Commander himself. However, when\nwe were out at Sea, the General, according to Instructions, opening his\nCommission, we were soon put out of our Suspence, and inform'd, that our\nOrders were to attack _Dunkirk_. But what was so grand a Secret to those\nconcern'd in the Expedition, having been intrusted to a Female\nPolitician on Land, it was soon discover'd to the Enemy; for which\nReason our Orders were countermanded, before we reach'd the Place of\nAction, and our Forces receiv'd Directions to land at _Ostend_.\nSoon after this happen'd that memorable Battle at _Steenkirk_, which as\nvery few at that Time could dive into the Reason of, and mistaken\nAccounts of it have pass'd for authentick, I will mention somewhat more\nparticularly: The Undertaking was bold; and, as many thought, bolder\nthan was consistent with the Character of the wise Undertaker.\nNevertheless, the _French_ having taken _Namure_; and, as the\nMalecontents alledg'd, in the very Sight of a superior Army; and nothing\nhaving been done by Land of any moment, Things were blown into such a\ndangerous Fermentation, by a malicious and lying Spirit, that King\n_William_ found himself under a Necessity of attempting something that\nmight appease the Murmurs of the People. He knew very well, though spoke\nin the Senate, that it was not true, that his Forces at the Siege of\n_Namure_ exceeded those of the Enemy; no Man could be more afflicted\nthan he at the overflowing of the _Mehaigne_, from the continual Rains,\nwhich obstructed the Relief he had designed for that important Place;\nyet since his Maligners made an ill Use of these false Topicks, to\ninsinuate that he had no Mind to put an End to the War, he was resolv'd\nto evince the contrary, by shewing them that he was not afraid to\nventure his Life for the better obtaining what was so much desired.\nTo that Purpose, receiving Intelligence that the Duke of _Luxemburg_ lay\nstrongly encamp'd at _Steenkirk_, near _Enghien_ (tho' he was sensible\nhe must pass through many Defiles to engage him; and that the many\nThickets between the two Armies would frequently afford him new\nDifficulties) he resolv'd there to attack him. Our Troops at first were\nforc'd to hew out their Passage for the Horse; and there was no one\ndifficulty that his Imagination had drawn that was lessen'd by\nExperience; and yet so prosperous were his Arms at the Beginning, that\nour Troops had made themselves Masters of several Pieces of the Enemy's\nCannon. But the farther he advanc'd, the Ground growing straiter, so\nstrait as not to admit his Army's being drawn up in Battalia, the Troops\nbehind could not give timely Succour to those engag'd, and the Cannon we\nhad taken was forcibly left behind in order to make a good Retreat. The\n_French_ had lost all their Courage in the Onset; for though they had\ntoo fair an Opportunity, they did not think fit to pursue it; or, at\nleast, did it very languidly. However, the Malecontents at Home, I\nremember, grew very well pleas'd after this; for so long as they had but\na Battle for their Money, like true _Englishmen_, lost or won, they were\ncontented.\nSeveral Causes, I remember, were assign'd for this Miscarriage, as they\ncall'd it; Some there were who were willing to lay it upon the _Dutch_;\nand alledge a Saying of one of their Generals, who receiving Orders to\nrelieve some _English_ and _Scotch_ that were over-power'd, was heard to\nsay, _Dam 'em, since they love Fighting let 'em have their Bellies\nfull_. But I should rather impute the Disappointment to the great Loss\nof so many of our bravest Officers at the very first Onset. General\n_Mackay_, Colonel _Lanier_, the Earl of _Angus_, with both his\nField-Officers, Sir _Robert Douglas_, Colonel _Hodges_, and many others\nfalling, it was enough to put a very considerable Army into Confusion. I\nremember one particular Action of Sir _Robert Douglas_, that I should\nthink my self to blame should I omit: Seeing his Colours on the other\nSide the Hedge, in the Hands of the Enemy, he leap'd over, slew the\nOfficer that had them, and then threw them over the Hedge to his\nCompany; redeeming his Colours at the Expense of his Life. Thus the\n_Scotch_ Commander improv'd upon the _Roman_ General; for the brave\n_Posthumius_ cast his Standard in the Middle of the Enemy for his\nSoldiers to retrieve, but _Douglas_ retriev'd his from the Middle of the\nEnemy, without any Assistance, and cast it back to his Soldiers to\nretain, after he had so bravely rescued it out of the Hands of the\nEnemy.\nFrom hence our Regiment receiv'd Orders to march to _Dixmuyd_, where we\nlay some time employ'd in fortifying that Place. While we were there, I\nhad one Morning stedfastly fix'd my Eyes upon some Ducks, that were\nswimming in a large Water before me; when all on a sudden, in the Midst\nof a perfect Calm, I observ'd such a strange and strong Agitation in the\nWaters, that prodigiously surpriz'd me. I was at the same Moment seiz'd\nwith such a Giddiness in my Head, that, for a Minute or two, I was\nscarce sensible, and had much a-do to keep on my Legs. I had never felt\nany thing of an Earthquake before, which, as I soon after understood\nfrom others, this was; and it left, indeed, very apparent Marks of its\nForce in a great Rent in the Body of the great Church, which remains to\nthis Day.\nHaving brought the intended Fortifications into some tolerable Order, we\nreceiv'd a Command out of hand to reimbarque for _England_. And, upon\nour Landing, Directions met us to march for _Ipswich_, where we had our\nQuarters all that Winter. From thence we were order'd up to _London_, to\ndo Duty in the _Tower_. I had not been there long, before an Accident\nhappen'd, as little to be accounted for, without a divine Providence, as\nsome would make that Providence to be, that only can account for it.\nThere was at that Time, as I was assur'd by my Lord _Lucas_, Constable\nof it, upwards of twenty Thousand Barrels of Gun-powder, in that they\ncall the _White-Tower_, when all at once the middle Flooring did not\nonly give way, or shrink, but fell flat down upon other Barrels of\nPowder, together with many of the same combustible Matter which had been\nplaced upon it. It was a Providence strangely neglected at that Time,\nand hardly thought of since; But let any considerate Man consult the\nConsequences, if it had taken fire; perhaps to the Destruction of the\nwhole City, or, at least, as far as the _Bridge_ and Parts adjacent. Let\nhis Thoughts proceed to examine, why, or how, in that precipitate Fall,\nnot one Nail, nor one Piece of Iron, in that large Fabrick, should\nafford one little Spark to enflame that Mass of sulphurous Matter it was\nloaded with; and if he is at a loss to find a Providence, I fear his\nFriends will be more at a loss to find his Understanding. But the\nBattle of _Landen_ happening while our Regiment was here on Duty, we\nwere soon remov'd to our Satisfaction from that pacifick Station, to one\nmore active in _Flanders_.\nNotwithstanding that fatal Battle the Year preceding, namely, _A.D._\n1694, the Confederate Army under King _William_ lay encamp'd at _Mont.\nSt. Andr\u00e9_, an open Place, and much expos'd; while the _French_ were\nentrench'd up to their very Teeth, at _Vignamont_, a little Distance\nfrom us. This afforded Matter of great Reflection to the Politicians of\nthose Times, who could hardly allow, that if the Confederate Army\nsuffer'd so much, as it really did in the Battle of _Landen_, it could\nconsist with right Conduct to tempt, or rather dare a new Engagement.\nBut those sage Objectors had forgot the well-known Courage of that brave\nPrince, and were as little capable of fathoming his Designs. The Enemy,\nwho to their Sorrow had by Experience been made better Judges, was\nresolv'd to traverse both; for which Purpose they kept close within\ntheir Entrenchments; so that after all his Efforts, King _William_\nfinding he could no way draw them to a Battle, suddenly decamp'd, and\nmarch'd directly to _Pont Espiers_, by long Marches, with a Design to\npass the _French_ Lines at that Place.\nBut notwithstanding our Army march'd in a direct Line, to our great\nSurprize, we found the Enemy had first taken possession of it. They gave\nthis the Name of the _Long March_, and very deservedly; for though our\nArmy march'd upon the String, and the Enemy upon the Bow, sensible of\nthe Importance of the Post, and the Necessity of securing it, by double\nhorseing with their Foot, and by leaving their Weary and Weak in their\nGarrisons, and supplying their Places with fresh Men out of them, they\ngain'd their Point in disappointing us. Though certain it is, that March\ncost 'em as many Men and Horses as a Battle. However their Master, the\n_French_ King, was so pleas'd with their indefatigable and auspicious\nDiligence, that he wrote, with his own Hand, a Letter of Thanks to the\nOfficers, for the great Zeal and Care they had taken to prevent the\nConfederate Army from entring into _French Flanders_.\nKing _William_, thus disappointed in that noble Design, gave immediate\nOrders for his whole Army to march through _Oudenard_, and then ecamp'd\nat _Rofendale_; after some little Stay at that Camp we were remov'd to\nthe _Camerlins_, between _Newport_ and _Ostend_, once more to take our\nWinter Quarters there among the Boors.\nWe were now in the Year 1695 when the strong Fortress of _Namur_, taken\nby the _French_ in 1692 and since made by them much stronger, was\ninvested by the Earl of _Athlone_. After very many vigorous Attacks,\nwith the Loss of many Men, the Town was taken, the Garrison retiring\ninto the Castle. Into which soon after, notwithstanding all the\nCircumspection of the Besiegers, Mareschal _Bouflers_ found means, with\nsome Dragoons, to throw himself.\nWhile King _William_ was thus engag'd in that glorious and important\nSiege, Prince _Vaudemont_ being posted at _Watergaem_, with about fifty\nBattallions, and as many Squadrons, the Mareschal _Villeroy_ laid a\nDesign to attack him with the whole _French_ Army. The Prince imagin'd\nno less, therefore he prepar'd accordingly, giving us Orders to fortify\nour Camp, as well as the little time we had for it would permit. Those\nOrders were pursu'd; nevertheless, I must confess, it was beyond the\nReach of my little Reason to account for our so long Stay in the Sight\nof an Army so much superior to ours. The Prince in the Whole could\nhardly muster thirty Thousand; and _Villeroy_ was known to value himself\nupon having one Hundred Thousand effective Men. However, the Prince\nprovisionally sent away all our Baggage that very Morning to _Ghent_,\nand still made shew as if he resolv'd to defend himself to the last\nExtremity in our little Entrenchments. The enemy on their Side began to\nsurround us; and in their Motions for that Purpose, blew up little Bags\nof Gun-powder, to give the readier Notice how far they had acomplish'd\nit. Another Captain, with my self, being plac'd on the Right, with one\nHundred Men (where I found Monsieur _Montal_ endeavouring, if possible,\nto get behind us) I could easily observe, they had so far attain'd their\nAim of encompassing us, as to the very Fashion of a Horse's Shoe. This\nmade me fix my Eyes so intently upon the advancing Enemy, that I never\nminded what my Friends were doing behind me; though I afterwards found\nthat they had been fileing off so very artfully and privately, by that\nnarrow Opening of the Horse-Shoe, that when the Enemy imagin'd us past a\nPossibility of Escape, our little Army at once, and of a sudden, was\nready to disappear. There was a large Wood on the Right of our Army,\nthrough which lay the Road to _Ghent_, not broader than to admit of more\nthan Four to march a breast. Down this the Prince had slid his Forces,\nexcept to that very small Party which the Captain and my self commanded,\nand which was designedly left to bring up the Rear. Nor did we stir till\nCaptain _Collier_, then _Aid de Camp_ to his Brother, now Earl of\n_Portmore_, came with the Word of Command for us to draw off.\nWhen _Villeroy_ was told of our Retreat, he was much surpriz'd, as\nthinking it a Thing utterly impossible. However, at last, being sensible\nof the Truth of it, he gave Orders for our Rear to be attack'd; but we\nkept fireing from Ditch to Ditch, and Hedge to Hedge, till Night came\nupon us; and so our little Army got clear of its gigantick Enemy with\nvery inconsiderable Loss. However, the _French_ fail'd not, in their\ncustomary Way, to express the Sense of their vexation, at this\nDisappointment, with Fire and Sword in the Neighbourhood round. Thus\nPrince _Vaudemont_ acquir'd more Glory by that Retreat than an intire\nVictory could have given him; and it was not, I confess, the least Part\nof Satisfaction in Life, that my self had a Share of Honour under him to\nbring off the Rear at that his glorious Retreat at _Arfeel_.\nHowever, in further Revenge of this political Chicane of the Prince of\n_Vaudemont_, and to oblige, if possible, King _William_ to raise the\nSiege from before _Namur, Villeroy_ enter'd into the Resolution of\nBombarding _Brussells_. In order to which he encamp'd at _Anderleck_,\nand then made his Approaches as near as was convenient to the Town.\nThere he caus'd to be planted thirty Mortars, and rais'd a Battery of\nten Guns to shoot hot Bullets into the Place.\nBut before they fir'd from either, _Villeroy_, in complement to the Duke\nof _Bavaria_, sent a Messenger to know in what Part of the Town his\nDutchess chose to reside, that they might, as much as possible, avoid\nincommoding her, by directing their Fire to other Parts. Answer was\nreturn'd that she was at her usual Place of Residence, the Palace; and\naccordingly their fireing from Battery or Mortars little incommoded them\nthat Way.\nFive Days the Bombardment continu'd; and with such Fury, that the Centre\nof that noble City was quite lay'd in Rubbish. Most of the Time of\nBombarding I was upon the Counterscarp, where I could best see and\ndistinguish; and I have often counted in the Air, at one time, more than\ntwenty Bombs; for they shot whole Vollies out of their Mortars all\ntogether. This, as it must needs be terrible, threw the Inhabitants into\nthe utmost Confusion. Cartloads of Nuns, that for many Years before had\nnever been out of the Cloister, were now hurry'd about from Place to\nPlace, to find Retreats of some Security. In short, the Groves, and\nParts remote, were all crowded; and the most spacious Streets had hardly\na Spectator left to view their Ruins. Nothing was to be seen like that\nDexterity of our People in extinguishing the Fires; for where the\nred-hot Bullets fell, and rais'd new Conflagrations, not Burghers only,\nbut the vulgar Sort, stood stareing, and with their Hands impocketted,\nbeheld their Houses gradually consume; and without offering prudent or\ncharitable Hand to stop the growing Flames.\nBut after they had almost thus destroy'd that late fair City,\n_Villeroy_, finding he could not raise the Siege of _Namur_, by that\nvigorous Attack upon _Brussels_, decamp'd at last from before it, and\nput his Army on the March, to try if he could have better Success by\nexposing to Show his Pageant of one Hundred Thousand Men. Prince\n_Vaudemont_ had timely Intelligence of the Duke's Resolution and Motion;\nand resolv'd, if possible to get there before him. Nor was the Attempt\nfruitless: He fortunately succeeded, though with much Fatigue, and no\nlittle Difficulty, after he had put a Trick upon the Spies of the Enemy,\nby pretending to encamp, and so soon as they were gone ordering a full\nMarch.\nThe Castle of _Namur_ had been all this Time under the Fire of the\nBesieger's Cannon; and soon after our little Army under the Prince was\narriv'd, a Breach, that was imagin'd practicable, being made in the\n_Terra Nova_ (which, as the Name imports, was a new Work, rais'd by the\n_French_, and added to the Fortifications, since it fell into their\nHands in 1692 and which very much increas'd the Strength of the Whole) a\nBreach, as I have said, being made in this _Terra Nova_, a Storm, in a\nCouncil of War, was resolv'd upon. Four entire Regiments, in conjunction\nwith some Draughts made out of several others, were order'd for that\nWork, my self commanding that Part of 'em which had been drawn out of\nColonel _Tiffins_. We were all to rendevouze at the Abbey of _Salsines_,\nunder the Command of the Lord Cutts; the Signal, when the Attack was to\nbe made, being agreed to be the blowing up of a Bag of Gun-powder upon\nthe Bridge of Boats that lay over the _Sambre_.\nSo soon as the Signal was made, we march'd up to the Breach with a\ndecent Intrepidity, receiving all the Way we advanc'd the full Fire of\nthe _Cohorn_ Fort. But as soon as we came near enough to mount, we found\nit vastly steep and rugged. Notwithstanding all which, several did get\nup, and enter'd the Breach; but not being supported as they ought to\nhave been, they were all made Prisoners. Which, together with a Wound my\nLord _Cutts_ receiv'd, after he had done all that was possible for us,\nnecessitated us to retire with the Loss of many of our Men.\n_VILLEROY_ all this while lay in fight, with his Army of One Hundred\nThousand Men, without making the least Offer to incommode the Besiegers;\nor even without doing any thing more than make his Appearance in favour\nof the Besieged, and reconnoitring our Encampment: And, at last, seeing,\nor imagining that he saw, the Attempt would be to little purpose, with\nall the good Manners in the World, in the Night, he withdrew that\nterrible Meteor, and reliev'd our poor Horses from feeding on Leaves,\nthe only Inconvenience he had put us to.\nThis Retreat leaving the Garrison without all Hope of Relief, they in\nthe Castle immediately capitulated. But after one of the Gates had been,\naccording to Articles, delivered up and Count _Guiscard_ was marching\nout at the Head of the Garrison, and _Bouflers_ at the Head of the\nDragoons; the latter was, by order of King _William_, arrested, in\nreprize of the Garrison of _Dixmuyd_ (who, contrary to the _Cartel_, had\nbeen detain'd Prisoners) and remain'd under Arrest till they were set\nfree.\nAt the very Beginning of the Year 1696 was discover'd a Plot, fit only\nto have had its Origin from Hell or _Rome_. A Plot, which would have put\n_Hottentots_ and Barbarians out of Countenance. This was call'd the\n_Assassination Plot_, from the Design of it, which was to have\nassassinated King _William_ a little before the Time of his usual\nleaving _England_ to head the Army of the Confederates in _Flanders_.\nAnd as nothing could give a nobler Idea of the great Character of that\nPrince than such a nefarious Combination against him; so, with all\nconsiderate Men, nothing could more depreciate the Cause of his\ninconsiderate Enemies. If I remember what I have read, the Sons of\nancient _Rome_, though Heathens, behav'd themselves against an Enemy in\na quite different Manner. Their Historians afford us more Instances than\na few of their generous Intimations to Kings and Generals, under actual\nHostilities, of barbarous Designs upon their Lives. I proceed to this of\nour own Countrymen.\nSoon after the Discovery had been made, by Persons actually engag'd in\nthat inhuman Design, the Regiment, in which I served, with some others\nthen in _Flanders_, receiv'd Orders, with all Expedition, to embarque\nfor _England_; though, on our Arrival at _Gravesend_, fresh Orders met\nus to remain on board the Transports, till we had surther Directions.\nOn my going to _London_, a few Days after, I was told, that two\nRegiments only were now design'd to come a-shore; and that the rest\nwould be remanded to _Flanders_, the Danger apprehended being pretty\nwell over. I was at _White Hall_ when I receiv'd this Notice; where\nmeeting my Lord _Cutts_ (who had ever since the storming of the _Terra\nNova_ at _Namur_ allow'd me a Share in his Favour) he express'd himself\nin the most obliging Manner; and at parting desir'd he might not fail of\nseeing me next Morning at his House; for he had somewhat of an\nextraordinary Nature to communicate to me.\nAt the time appointed, I waited on his Lorship, where I met Mr. _Steel_\n(now Sir _Richard_, and at that time his Secretary) who immediately\nintroduc'd me. I found in company with him three Gentlemen; and after\ncommon Salutations, his Lordship deliver'd into my Hands, an Order from\nthe King in Council to go along with Captain _Porter_, Mr. _de la Rue_,\nand Mr. _George Harris_ (who prov'd to be those three with him) to\nsearch all the Transports at _Gravesend_, in order to prevent any of\nthe Conspirators getting out of _England_ that Way. After answering,\nthat I was ready to pay Obedience, and receiving, in private, the\nfurther necessary Instructions, we took our Leave, and Oars soon after\nfor _Gravesend_. 'Twas in our Passage down, that I understood that they\nhad all been of the Conspiracy, but now reluctant, were become\nWitnesses.\nWhen we came to _Gravesend_, I produc'd my Authority to the Commanding\nOfficer, who very readily paid Obedience, and gave Assistance; But after\nour most diligent Search, finding nothing of what we look'd for, we\nreturn'd that very Night to _London_.\nNext Day a Proclamation was to come out for the apprehending three of\nfour Troopers, who were sent over by King _James_, with a thousand\nPounds Reward for each: Mr. _George Harris_, who was the fourth, being\nthe only Evidence against the other three. No sooner were we return'd\nfrom _Gravesend_, but _Harris_ had Intelligence brought him, that\n_Cassells_, one of the three, was at Mr. _Allens_ in the _Savoy_, under\nthe Name of _Green_. Upon which we went directly to the Place; and\nenquiring for Mr. _Green_, we were told he lodg'd there, and was in his\nRoom.\nI was oblig'd by my Order to go along with them, and assist 'em; and\nvery well was it that I was so: For in consideration of the Reward in\nthe Proclamation, which, as I have said, was to come out the next Day,\n_Harris_ and the rest were for deferring his Seizure, till the coming\nout of that Proclamation; but making answer, that in case of his Escape\nthat Night, I must be responsible to my Superiors; who, under the most\nfavourable Aspect, would construe it a Neglect of Duty, they were forc'd\nto comply; and so he was taken up, and his Name that Night struck out of\nthe Proclamation. It is very true, by this faithful Discharge of my\nTrust, I did save the Government one Thousand Pounds; but it is equally\nso, that I never had of my Governors one Farthing Consideration for what\nothers term'd an over-officious Piece of Service; though in Justice it\nmust be own'd a Piece of exact and disinterested Duty.\nSome few Days after, attending by Direction at the Secretary's Office,\nwith Mr. _Harris_, there came in a _Dutchman_, spluttering and making a\ngreat Noise, that he was sure he could discover one of the Conspirators;\nbut the Mein and the Behaviour of the Man, would not give any Body Leave\nto give him any Credit or Regard. However, the Man persisting in his\nAssertions, I spoke to Mr. _Harris_ to take him aside, and ask him what\nSort of a Person he was; _Harris_ did so; and the _Dutchman_ describing\nhim, says _Harris_, returning to me, I'll be hang'd if it be not\n_Blackburn_. Upon which we had him question'd somewhat more narrowly;\nwhen having no room to doubt, and understanding where he was, Colonel\n_Rivet_ of the Guards was sent for, and order'd to go along with us to\nseize him. We went accordingly; and it proving to be _Blackburn_, the\n_Dutchman_ had five Hundred Pounds, and the Colonel and others the\nRemainder. _Cassels_ and _Blackburn_, if still alive, are in _Newgate_,\nconfin'd by Act of Parliament, one only Witness, which was _Harris_,\nbeing producible against them.\nWhen _Blackburn_ was seiz'd, I found in the Chamber with him, one\n_Davison_, a Watch-maker, living in _Holbourn_. I carry'd him along with\nme to the Secretary of State; but nothing on his Examination appearing\nagainst him, he was immediately discharg'd. He offer'd afterwards to\npresent me with a fine Watch of his own making, which I refus'd; and he\nlong after own'd the Obligation.\nSo soon as the Depth of this Plot was fathom'd, and the intended Evil\nprovided against, as well as prevented, King _William_ went over into\n_Flanders_, and our Regiment thereupon receiv'd Orders for their\nimmediate Return. Nothing of any Moment occurr'd till our Arrival at our\nold Quarters, the _Camerlins_, where we lay dispers'd amongst the\nCountry Boors or Farmers, as heretofore. However, for our better\nSecurity in those Quarters, and to preserve us from the Excursions of\nthe neighbouring Garrison of Furnes, we were oblig'd to keep an\nOut-guard at a little Place call'd _Shoerbeck_. This Guard was every\nforty-eight Hours chang'd, and remounted with a Captain, a Lieutenant,\nan Ensign, and threescore Men.\nWhen it came to my Turn to relieve that Guard, and for that Purpose I\nwas arriv'd at my Post, it appear'd to me with the Face of a Place of\nDebauch, rather than Business; there being too visible Tokens, that the\nhard Duty of both Officers and Soldiers had been that of hard Drinking,\nthe foulest Error that a Soldier can commit, especially when on his\nGuard.\nTo confirm my Apprehensions, a little after I had taken Possession of my\nGuard, the Man of the House related to me such Passages, and so many\nof'em, that satisfy'd me, that if ten sober Men had made the Attack,\nthey might have fairly knock'd all my Predecessors of the last Guard on\nthe Head, without much Difficulty. However, his Account administer'd\nMatter of Caution to me, and put me upon taking a narrower View of our\nSituation. In consequence whereof, at Night I plac'd a Centinel a\nQuarter of a Mile in the Rear, and such other Centinels as I thought\nnecessary and convenient in other Places; with Orders, that upon Sight\nof an Enemy the Centinel near should fire; and that upon hearing that,\nall the other Centinels, as well as he, should hasten in to strengthen\nour Main Guard.\nWhat my Jealousy, on my Landlord's Relation, had suggested, happen'd\naccordingly: For about one in the Morning I was alarm'd with the Cry of\none of my Centinels, _Turn out for God's sake_; which he repeated, with\nVehemence, three or four times over. I took the Alarm, got up suddenly;\nand with no little Difficulty got my Men into their Ranks, when the\nPerson who made the Outcry came running in, almost spent, and out of\nBreath. It was the Centinel, that I had luckily plac'd about a Quarter\nof a Mile off, who gave the Alarm, and his Musket flashing in the Pan,\nwithout going off, he endeavour'd to supply with his Voice the Defect of\nhis Piece. I had just got my Men into their Ranks, in order to receive\nthe Enemy, when by the Moonlight, I discover'd a Party advancing upon\nus. My out Centinel challeng'd 'em, and as I had precaution'd, they\nanswer'd, _Hispanioli_; though I knew 'em to be _French_.\nHowever, on my Survey of our Situation by Day-light, having mark'd in my\nMind a proper Place for drawing up my Men in Case of an Attack, which\nwas too narrow to admit of more than two on a Breast; and which would\nsecure between us and the Enemy a Ditch of Water: I resolv'd to put in\npractice what had entertain'd me so well in the Theory. To that Purpose\nI order'd my first Rank to keep their Post, stand still and face the\nEnemy, while the other two Ranks stooping should follow me to gain the\nintended Station; which done, the first Rank had Orders to file off and\nfall behind. All was perform'd in excellent Order; and I confess it was\nwith no little Pleasure, that I beheld the Enemy, for the best Part of\nan Hour, in Consultation whether they should attack us or no. The\nresult, nevertheless, of that Consultation ended in this; that, seeing\nus so well upon our Guard, it was most adviseable to draw off. They soon\nput their Resolution into practice, which I was very glad to see; on\nExamination a little before having found that my Predecessor, as in\nother Things, had fail'd of Conduct in leaving me a Garrison without\nAmmunition.\nNext Morning I was very pleasingly surpriz'd with a handsome Present of\nWine, and some other necessary Refreshments. At first I made a little\nScruple and Hesitation whether or no to receive 'em; till the Bearer\nassur'd me, that they were sent me from the Officers of the next\nGarrison, who had made me a Visit the Night before, as a candid\nAcknowledgment of my Conduct and good Behaviour. I return'd their\nCompliment, that I hop'd I should never receive Men of Honour otherwise\nthan like a Man of Honour; which mightily pleas'd them. Every of which\nParticulars the _Ghent Gazettier_ the Week after publish'd.\nWe had little to do except Marching and Counter-marching all the\nCampaign after; till it was resolv'd in a Council of War, for the better\npreserving of _Brussels_ from such Insults, as it had before sustain'd\nfrom the _French_, during the Siege of _Namur_, to fortify _Anderlech_;\nupon which our Regiment, as well as others, were commanded from our more\npacifick Posts to attend that Work. Our whole Army was under Movement to\ncover that Resolution; and the Train fell to my Care and Command in the\nMarch. There accompany'd the Train a Fellow, seemingly ordinary, yet\nvery officious and courteous, being ready to do any thing for any\nPerson, from the Officer to the common Soldier. He travell'd along and\nmov'd with the Train, sometimes on Foot, and sometimes getting a Ride in\nsome one or other of the Waggons; but ever full of his Chit-chat and\nStories of Humour. By these insinuating Ways he had screw'd himself into\nthe general good Opinion; but the Waggoners especially grew particularly\nfond of him. At the End of our March all our Powder-Waggons were plac'd\nbreast a-breast, and so close, that one miscarrying would leave little\ndoubt of the Fate of all the rest. This in the Camp we commonly call\n_the Park_; and here it was that our new Guest, like another _Phaeton_,\nthough under Pretence of Weariness, not Ambition, got Leave of the very\nlast Carter to the Train to take a Nap in his Waggon. One who had\nentertain'd a Jealousy of him, and had watch'd him, gave Information\nagainst him; upon which he was seiz'd and brought to me as Captain of\nthe Guard. I caus'd him to be search'd; and upon search, finding Match,\nTouchwood, and other dangerous Materials upon him; I sent him and them\naway to the Provoe. Upon the Whole, a Council of War was call'd, at\nwhich, upon a strict Examination, he confess'd himself a hir'd\nIncendiary; and as such receiv'd his Sentence to be burnt in the Face of\nthe Army. The Execution was a Day or two after: When on the very Spot,\nhe further acknowledged, that on Sight or Noise of the Blow, it had been\nconcerted, that the _French_ Army should fall upon the Confederates\nunder those lamentable Circumstances.\nThe Peace of _Riswick_ soon after taking place, put an End to all\nIncendiarisms of either Sort. So that nothing of a Military Kind, which\nwas now become my Province, happen'd of some Years after. Our Regiment\nwas first order'd into _England_; and presently after into _Ireland_:\nBut as these Memoirs are not design'd for the Low Amuzement of a\nTea-Table, but rather of the Cabinet, a Series of inglorious Inactivity\ncan furnish but very little towards 'em.\nYet as little as I admir'd a Life of Inactivity, there are some Sorts of\nActivity, to which a wise Man might almost give Supineness the\nPreference: Such is that of barely encountring Elements, and wageing War\nwith Nature; and such, in my Opinion, would have been the spending my\nCommission, and very probably my Life with it, in the _West Indies_. For\nthough the Climate (as some would urge) may afford a Chance for a very\nspeedy Advance in Honour, yet, upon revolving in my Mind, that those\nRotations of the Wheel of Fortune are often so very quick, as well as\nuncertain, that I my self might as well be the First as the Last; the\nWhole of the Debate ended in somewhat like that Couplet of the excellent\n_Hudibras_:\n_Then he, that ran away and fled,\nMust lie in Honour's Truckle-bed._\nHowever, my better Planets soon disannull'd those melancholy Ideas,\nwhich a Rumour of our being sent into the _West Indies_ had crowded my\nHead and Heart with: For being call'd over into _England_, upon the very\nAffairs of the Regiment, I arriv'd there just after the Orders for their\nTransportation went over; by which Means the Choice of going was put out\nof my Power, and the Danger of Refusing, which was the Case of many, was\nvery luckily avoided.\nIt being judg'd, therefore, impossible for me to return soon enough to\ngain my Passage, one in Power propos'd to me, that I should resign to an\nOfficer then going over; and with some other contingent Advantages, to\nmy great Satisfaction, I was put upon the Half-pay List. This was more\nagreeable, for I knew, or at least imagin'd my self wise enough to\nforetel, from the over hot Debate of the House of Commons upon the\nPartition Treaty, that it could not be long before the present Peace\nwould, at least, require patching.\nUnder this Sort of uncertain Settlement I remain'd with the Patience of\na _Jew_, though not with Judaical Absurdity, a faithful Adherer to my\nExpectation. Nor did the Consequence fail of answering, a War was\napparent, and soon after proclaim'd. Thus waiting for an Opportunity,\nwhich I flatter'd my self would soon present, the little Diversions of\n_Dublin_, and the moderate Conversation of that People, were not of\nTemptation enough to make my Stay in _England_ look like a Burden.\nBut though the War was proclaim'd, and Preparations accordingly made for\nit, the Expectations from all receiv'd a sudden Damp, by the as sudden\nDeath of King _William_. That Prince, who had stared Death in the Face\nin many Sieges and Battles, met with his Fate in the Midst of his\nDiversions, who seiz'd his Prize in an Hour, to human Thought, the least\nadapted to it. He was a Hunting (his customary Diversion) when, by an\nunhappy Trip of his Horse, he fell to the Ground; and in the Fall\ndisplac'd his Collar-bone. The News of it immediately alarm'd the Court,\nand all around; and the sad Effects of it soon after gave all _Europe_\nthe like Alarm. _France_ only, who had not disdain'd to seek it sooner\nby ungenerous Means, receiv'd new Hope, from what gave others Motives\nfor Despair. He flatter'd himself, that that long liv'd Obstacle to his\nAmbition thus remov'd, his Successor would never fall into those\nMeasures, which he had wisely concerted for the Liberties of _Europe_;\nbut he, as well as others of his Adherents, was gloriously deceiv'd;\nthat God-like Queen, with a Heart entirely _English_, prosecuted her\nroyal Predecessor's Counsels; and to remove all the very Faces of\nJealousy, immediately on her Accession dispatch'd to every Court of the\ngreat Confederacy, Persons adequate to the Importance of the Message, to\ngive Assurances thereof.\nThis gave new Spirit to a Cause, that at first seem'd to languish in its\nFounder, as it struck its great Opposers with a no less mortifying\nTerror; And well did the great Successes of her Arms answer the Prayers\nand Efforts of that royal Soul of the Confederacies; together with the\nWishes of all, that, like her, had the Good, as well as the Honour of\ntheir Country at Heart, in which the Liberties of _Europe_ were\nincluded. The first Campaign gave a noble Earnest of the Future. _Bon_,\n_Keyserwaert_, _Venlo_, and _Ruremond_, were sound Forerunners only of\n_Donawert_, _Hochstet_, and _Blenheim_. Such a March of _English_ Forces\nto the Support of the tottering Empire, as it gloriously manifested the\nancient Genius of a warlike People; so was it happily celebrated with a\nSuccess answerable to the Glory of the Undertaking, which concluded in\nStatues and princely Donatives to an _English_ Subject, from the then\nonly Emperor in _Europe_. A small Tribute, it's true, for ransom'd\nNations and captiv'd Armies, which justly enough inverted the\nExclamations of a _Roman_ Emperor to the _French_ Monarch, who\ndeprecated his Legions lost pretty near the same Spot; but to a much\nsuperior Number, and on a much less glorious Occasion.\nBut my good Fortune not allowing me to participate in those glorious\nAppendages of the _English_ Arms in _Flanders_, nor on the _Rhine_, I\nwas resolv'd to make a Push for it the first Opportunity, and waste my\nMinutes no longer on Court Attendances. And my Lord _Cutts_ returning\nwith his full Share of Laurels, for his never to be forgotten Services\nat _Venlo_, _Ruremond_, and _Hochstet_, found his active Genius now to\nbe repos'd, under the less agreeable Burden of unhazardous Honour, where\nQuiet must provide a Tomb for one already past any Danger of Oblivion;\ndeep Wounds and glorious Actions having anticipated all that could be\nsaid in Epitaphs or litteral Inscriptions. Soon after his Arrival from\n_Germany_, he was appointed General of all her Majesty's Forces in\n_Ireland_; upon which going to congratulate him, he was pleas'd to\nenquire of me several Things relating to that Country; and particularly\nin what Part of _Dublin_ I would recommend his Residence; offering at\nthe same time, if I would go over with him, all the Services that should\nfall in his Way.\nBut Inactivity was a Thing I had too long lamented; therefore, after I\nhad, as decently as I could, declin'd the latter Part, I told his\nLordship, that as to a Place of Residence, I was Master of a House in\n_Dublin_, large enough, and suitable to his great Quality, which should\nbe at his Service, on any Terms he thought fit. Adding withal, that I\nhad a Mind to see _Spain_, where my Lord _Peterborow_ was now going; and\nthat if his Lordship would favour me with a Recommendation, it would\nsuit my present Inclinations much better than any further tedious\nRecess. His Lordship was so good to close with both my Overtures; and\nspoke so effectually in my Favour, that the Earl of _Peterborow_, then\nGeneral of all the Forces order'd on that Expedition, bad me speedily\nprepare my self; and so when all Things were ready I embarqu'd with that\nnoble Lord for _Spain_, to pursue his well concerted Undertaking; which,\nin the Event, will demonstrate to the World, that little Armies, under\nthe Conduct of auspicious Generals, may sometimes produce prodigious\nEffects.\nThe _Jews_, in whatever Part of the World, are a People industrious in\nthe increasing of _Mammon_; and being accustom'd to the universal\nMethods of Gain, are always esteem'd best qualify'd for any Undertaking,\nwhere that bears a Probability of being a Perquisite. Providing Bread,\nand other Requisites for an Army, was ever allow'd to carry along with\nit a Profit answerable; and _Spain_ was not the first Country where that\nPeople had engag'd in such an Undertaking. Besides, on any likely\nAppearance of great Advantage, it is in the Nature as well as Practice\nof that Race, strenuously to assist one another; and that with the\nutmost Confidence and prodigious Alacrity. One of that Number, both\ncompetent and willing enough to carry on an Undertaking of that kind,\nfortunately came at that Juncture to solicit the Earl of _Peterborow_ to\nbe employ'd as Proveditor to the Army and Troops, which were, or should\nbe sent into _Spain_.\nIt will easily be admitted, that the Earl, under his present Exigencies,\ndid not decline to listen. And a very considerable Sum being offer'd, by\nway of Advance, the Method common in like Cases was pursu'd, and the Sum\npropos'd accepted; by which Means the Earl of _Peterborow_ found himself\nput into the happy Capacity of proceeding upon his first concerted\nProject. The Name of the _Jew_, who sign'd the Contract, was _Curtisos_;\nand he and his Friends, with great Punctuality, advanc'd the expected\nSum of One Hundred Thousand Pounds Sterling, or very near it; which was\nimmediately order'd into the Hands of the Pay-master of the Forces. For\nthough the Earl took Money of the _Jews_, it was not for his own, but\npublic Use. According to Agreement, Bills were drawn for the Value from\n_Lisbon_, upon the Lord _Godolphin_ (then Lord Treasurer) all which\nwere, on that Occasion, punctually comply'd with.\nThe Earl of _Peterborow_ having thus fortunately found Means to supply\nhimself with Money, and by that with some Horse, after he had obtain'd\nLeave of the Lord _Galoway_ to make an Exchange of two Regiments of\nFoot, receiv'd the Arch-Duke, and all those who would follow him, aboard\nthe Fleet; and, at his own Expense, transported him and his whole\nRetinue to _Barcelona_: For all which prodigious Charge, as I have been\nvery lately inform'd, from very good Hands, that noble Earl never to\nthis Day receiv'd any Consideration from the Government, or any Person\nwhatsoever.\nWe sail'd from _Lisbon_, in order to join the Squadron under Sir\n_Cloudsley Shovel:_ Meeting with which at the appointed Station off\n_Tangier_, the Men of War and Transports thus united, made the best of\ntheir Way for _Gibraltar_. There we stay'd no longer than to take aboard\ntwo Regiments out of that Garrison, in lieu of two out of our Fleet.\nHere we found the Prince of _Hesse_, who immediately took a Resolution\nto follow the Arch-Duke in this Expedition. He was a Person of great\nGallantry; and having been Vice-Roy of _Catalonia_, was receiv'd on\nboard the Fleet with the utmost Satisfaction, as being a Person capable\nof doing great Service in a Country where he was well known, and as well\nbelov'd.\nSpeaking _Latin_ then pretty fluently, it gave me frequent Opportunies\nof conversing with the two Father Confessors of the Duke of _Austria_;\nand upon that Account I found my self honour'd with some Share in the\nFavour of the Arch-Duke himself. I mention this, not to gratify any vain\nHumour, but as a corroborating Circumstance, that my Opportunities of\nInformation, in Matters of Consequence, could not thereby be suppos'd to\nbe lessen'd; but that I might more reasonably be imagin'd to arrive at\nIntelligence, that not very often, or at least not so soon, came to the\nKnowledge of others.\nFrom _Gibraltar_ we sail'd to the Bay of _Altea_, not far distant from\nthe City of _Valencia_, in the Road of which we continu'd for some Days.\nWhile we were there, as I was very credibly inform'd, the Earl of\n_Peterborow_ met with some fresh Disappointment; but what it was,\nneither I nor any Body else, as far as I could perceive, could ever dive\ninto: Neither did it appear by any outward Tokens, in that noble\nGeneral, that it lay so much at his Heart, as those about him seem'd to\nassure me it did.\nHowever, while we lay in _Altea_ Bay, two Bomb-Vessels, and a small\nSquadron, were order'd against _Denia_, which had a small Castle; but\nrather fine than strong. And accordingly, upon our Offer to bring to\nbear with our Cannon, and preparing to fix our Bomb-Vessels, in order to\nbombard the Place, it surrender'd; and acknowledg'd the Arch-Duke as\nlawful King of _Spain_, and so proclaim'd him. From this time,\ntherefore, speaking of that Prince, it shall be under that Title.\nGeneral _Ramos_ was left Commander here; a Person who afterwards acted a\nvery extraordinary Part in the War carry'd on in the Kingdom of\n_Valencia_.\nBut notwithstanding no positive Resolutions had been taken for the\nOperations of the Campaign, before the Arch Duke's Departure from\n_Lisbon_, the Earl of _Peterborow_, ever solicitous of the Honour of his\nCountry, had premeditated another Enterprize, which, had it been\nembrac'd, would in all Probability, have brought that War to a much more\nspeedy Conclusion; and at the same time have obviated all those\nDifficulties, which were but too apparent in the Siege of _Barcelona_.\nHe had justly and judiciously weigh'd, that there were no Forces in the\nMiddle Parts of _Spain_, all their Troops being in the extream Parts of\nthe Kingdom, either on the Frontiers of _Portugal_, or in the City of\n_Barcelona_; that with King _Philip_, and the royal Family at _Madrid_,\nthere were only some few Horse, and those in a bad Condition, and which\nonly serv'd for Guards: if therefore, as he rightly projected within\nhimself, by the taking of _Valencia_, or any Sea-Port Town, that might\nhave secur'd his Landing, he had march'd directly for _Madrid_; what\ncould have oppos'd him? But I shall have occasion to dilate more upon\nthis Head a few Pages hence; and therefore shall here only say, that\nthough that Project of his might have brought about a speedy and\nwonderful Revolution, what he was by his Orders afterwards oblig'd to,\nagainst his Inclinations, to pursue, contributed much more to his great\nReputation, as it put him under a frequent Necessity of overcoming\nDifficulties, which, to any other General, would have appear'd\nunsurmountable.\n_VALENCIA_ is a City towards the Centre of _Spain_, to the Seaward,\nseated in a rich and most populous Country, just fifty Leagues from\n_Madrid_. It abounds in Horses and Mules; by reason of the great\nFertility of its Lands, which they can, to great Advantage, water when,\nand as they please. This City and Kingdom was as much inclin'd to the\nInterest of King _Charles_ as _Catalonia_ it self; for even on our first\nAppearance, great Numbers of People came down to the Bay of _Altea_,\nwith not only a bare Offer of their Services, but loaded with all Manner\nof Provisions, and loud Acclamations of _Viva Carlos tercero, Viva_.\nThere were no regular Troops in any of the Places round about it, or in\nthe City it self. The nearest were those few Horse in _Madrid_, one\nhundred and fifty Miles distant; nor any Foot nearer than _Barcelona_,\nor the Frontiers of _Portugal_.\nOn the contrary, _Barcelona_ is one of the largest and most populous\nCities in all _Spain_, fortify'd with Bastions; one Side thereof is\nsecur'd by the Sea; and the other by a strong Fortification call'd\n_Monjouick_. The Place is of so large a Circumference, that thirty\nthousand Men would scarce suffice to form the Lines of Circumvallation.\nIt once resisted for many Months an Army of that Force; and is almost\nat the greatest Distance from _England_ of any Place belonging to that\n_Monarchy_.\nThis short Description of these two Places will appear highly necessary,\nif it be consider'd, that no Person without it would be able to judge of\nthe Design which the Earl of _Peterborow_ intended to pursue, when he\nfirst took the Arch-Duke aboard the Fleet. Nevertheless the Earl now\nfound himself under a Necessity of quitting that noble Design, upon his\nReceipt of Orders from _England_, while he lay in the Bay of _Altea_, to\nproceed directly to _Catalonia_; to which the Arch-Duke, as well as many\nSea and Land Officers, were most inclin'd; and the Prince of _Hesse_\nmore than all the rest.\nOn receiving those Orders, the Earl of _Peterborow_ seem'd to be of\nOpinion, that from an Attempt, which he thought under a Probability of\nSuccess, he was condemn'd to undertake what was next to an Impossibility\nof effecting; since nothing appear'd to him so injudicious as an Attempt\nupon _Barcelona_. A Place at such a Distance from receiving any\nReinforcement or Relief; the only Place in which the _Spaniards_ had a\nGarrison of regular Forces; and those in Number rather exceeding the\nArmy he was to undertake the Siege with, was enough to cool the Ardour\nof a Person of less Penetration and Zeal than what the Earl had on all\nOccasions demonstrated. Whereas if the General, as he intended, had made\nan immediate March to _Madrid_, after he had secur'd _Valencia_, and the\nTowns adjacent, which were all ready to submit and declare for King\n_Charles_; or if otherwise inclin'd, had it not in their Power to make\nany considerable Resistance; to which, if it be added, that he could\nhave had Mules and Horses immediately provided for him, in what Number\nhe pleas'd, together with Carriages necessary for Artillery, Baggage,\nand Ammunition; in few Days he could have forc'd King _Philip_ out of\n_Madrid_, where he had so little Force to oppose him. And as there was\nnothing in his Way to prevent or obstruct his marching thither, it is\nhard to conceive any other Part King _Philip_ could have acted in such\nan Extremity, than to retire either towards _Portugal_ or _Catalonia_.\nIn either of which Cases he must have left all the middle Part of\n_Spain_ open to the Pleasure of the Enemy; who in the mean time would\nhave had it in their Power to prevent any Communication of those Bodies\nat such opposite Extreams of the Country, as were the Frontiers of\n_Portugal_ and _Barcelona_, where only, as I said before, were any\nregular Troops.\nAnd on the other Side, as the Forces of the Earl of _Peterborow_ were\nmore than sufficient for an Attempt where there was so little Danger of\nOpposition; so if their Army on the Frontiers of _Portugal_ should have\nmarch'd back upon him into the Country; either the _Portugueze_ Army\ncould have enter'd into _Spain_ without Opposition; or, at worst,\nsupposing the General had been forc'd to retire, his Retreat would have\nbeen easy and safe into those Parts of _Valencia_ and _Andahzia_, which\nhe previously had secur'd. Besides, _Gibraltar_, the strongest Place in\n_Spain_, if not in the whole World, was already in our Possession, and a\ngreat Fleet at Hand ready to give Assistance in all Places near the Sea.\nFrom all which it is pretty apparent, that in a little time the War on\nour Side might have been supported without entering the _Mediterranean_;\nby which Means all Reinforcements would have been much nearer at Hand,\nand the Expences of transporting Troops and Ammunition very considerably\ndiminish'd.\nBut none of these Arguments, though every one of them is founded on\nsolid Reason, were of Force enough against the prevailing Opinion for an\nAttempt upon _Catalonia_. Mr. _Crow_, Agent for the Queen in those\nParts, had sent into _England_ most positive Assurances, that nothing\nwould be wanting, if once our Fleet made an invasion amongst the\n_Catalans_: The Prince of _Hesse_ likewise abounded in mighty Offers and\nprodigious Assurances; all which enforc'd our Army to that Part of\n_Spain_, and that gallant Prince to those Attempts in which he lost his\nLife. Very much against the Inclination of our General, who foresaw all\nthose Difficulties, which were no less evident afterwards to every one;\nand the Sense of which occasion'd those Delays, and that Opposition to\nany Effort upon _Barcelona_, which ran thro' so many successive Councils\nof War.\nHowever, pursuant to his Instructions from _England_, the repeated\nDesires of the Arch-Duke, and the Importunities of the Prince of\n_Hesse_, our General gave Orders to sail from _Altea_ towards the Bay of\n_Barcelona_, the chief City of _Catalonia_. Nevertheless, when we\narriv'd there, he was very unwilling to land any of the Forces, till he\nsaw some Probability of that Assistance and Succour so must boasted of,\nand so often promis'd. But as nothing appear'd but some small Numbers of\nMen, very indifferently arm'd, and without either Gentlemen or Officers\nat the Head of them; the Earl of _Peterborow_ was of Opinion, this could\nnot be deem'd sufficient Encouragement for him to engage in an\nEnterprize, which carry'd so poor a Face of Probability of Success along\nwith it. In answer to this it was urg'd, that till a Descent was made,\nand the Affairs thoroughly engag'd in, it was not to be expected that\nany great Numbers would appear, or that Persons of Condition would\ndiscover themselves. Upon all which it was resolv'd the Troops should be\nlanded.\nAccordingly, our Forces were disembark'd, and immediately encamp'd;\nnotwithstanding which the Number of Succours increas'd very slowly, and\nthat after the first straggling Manner. Nor were those that did appear\nany way to be depended on; coming when they thought fit, and going away\nwhen they pleas'd, and not to be brought under any regular Discipline.\nIt was then pretended, that until they saw the Artillery landed as well\nas Forces, they would not believe any Siege actually intended. This\nbrought the General under a sort of Necessity of complying in that also.\nThough certainly so to do must be allow'd a little unreasonable, while\nthe Majority in all Councils of War declar'd the Design to be\nimpracticable; and the Earl of _Peterborow_ had positive Orders to\nproceed according to such Majorities.\nAt last the Prince of _Hesse_ was pleas'd to demand Pay for those\nStragglers, as Officers and Soldiers, endeavouring to maintain, that it\ncould not be expected that Men should venture their Lives for nothing.\nThus we came to _Catalonia_ upon Assurances of universal Assistance; but\nfound, when we came there, that we were to have none unless we paid for\nit. And as we were sent thither without Money to pay for any thing, it\nhad certainly been for us more tolerable to have been in a Country where\nwe might have taken by Force what we could not obtain any other way.\nHowever, to do the _Miquelets_ all possible Justice, I must say, that\nnotwithstanding the Number of 'em, which hover'd about the Place, never\nmuch exceeded fifteen Hundred Men; if sometimes more, oftner less; and\nthough they never came under any Command, but planted themselves where\nand as they pleas'd; yet did they considerable Service in taking\nPossession of all the Country Houses and Convents, that lay between the\nHills and the Plain of _Barcelona_; by means whereof they render'd it\nimpossible for the Enemy to make any _Sorties_ or Sallies at any\nDistance from the Town.\nAnd now began all those Difficulties to bear, which long before by the\nGeneral had been apprehended. The Troops had continu'd under a State of\nInactivity for the Space of three Weeks, all which was spent in\nperpetual Contrivances and Disputes amongst our selves, not with the\nEnemy. In six several Councils of War the Siege of _Barcelona_, under\nthe Circumstances we then lay, was rejected as a Madness and\nImpossibility. And though the General and Brigadier _Stanhope_\n(afterward Earl _Stanhope_) consented to some Effort should be made to\nsatisfy the Expectation of the World, than with any Hopes of Success.\nHowever, no Consent at all could be obtain'd from any Council of War;\nand the _Dutch_ General in particular declar'd, that he would not obey\neven the Commands of the Earl of _Peterborow_, if he should order the\nSacrifice of the Troops under him in so unjustifiable a Manner, without\nthe Consent of a Council of War.\nAnd yet all those Officers, who refus'd their Consent to the Siege of\n_Barcelona_, offer'd to march into the Country, and attempt any other\nPlace, that was not provided with so strong and numerous a Garrison;\ntaking it for granted, that no Town in _Catalonia, Barcelona_ excepted,\ncould make long Resistance; and in case the Troops in that Garrison\nshould pursue them, they then might have an Opportunity of fighting them\nat less Disadvantage in the open Field, than behind the Walls of a Place\nof such Strength. And, indeed, should they have issu'd out on any such\nDesign, a Defeat of those Troops would have put the Province of\n_Catalonia_, together with the Kingdoms of _Aragon_ and _Valencia_,\ninto the Hands of King _Charles_ more effectually than the taking _of\nBarcelona_ it self.\nLet it be observ'd, _en passant_, that by those Offers of the Land\nOfficers in a Council of War, it is easy to imagine what would have been\nthe Success of our Troops, had they march'd directly from _Valencia_ to\n_Madrid_. For if after two Months Alarm, it was thought reasonable, as\nwell as practicable, to march into the open Country rather than attempt\nthe Siege of _Barcelona_, where Forces equal, if not superior in Number,\nwere ready to follow us at the Heels; what might not have been expected\nfrom an Invasion by our Troops when and where they could meet with\nlittle Opposition? But leaving the Consideration of what might have\nbeen, I shall now endeavour at least with great Exactness to set down\nsome of the most remarkable Events from our taking to the Relief of\n_Barcelona_.\nThe repeated Refusals of the Councils of War for undertaking the Siege\nof so strong a Place, with a Garrison so numerous, and those Refusals\ngrounded upon such solid Reasons, against a Design so rash, reduc'd the\nGeneral to the utmost Perplexity. The Court of King _Charles_ was\nimmerg'd in complaint; all belonging to him lamenting the hard Fate of\nthat Prince, to be brought into _Catalonia_ only to return again,\nwithout the Offer of any one Effort in his Favour. On the other Hand,\nour own Officers and Soldiers were highly dissatisfy'd, that they were\nreproach'd, because not dispos'd to enter upon and engage themselves in\nImpossibilities. And, indeed, in the Manner that the Siege was propos'd\nand insisted upon by the Prince of _Hesse_, in every of the several\nCouncils of War, after the Loss of many Men, thrown away to no other\npurpose, but to avoid the Shame (as the Expression ran) of coming like\nFools and going away like Cowards, it could have ended in nothing but a\nRetreat at last.\nIt afforded but small Comfort to the Earl to have foreseen all these\nDifficulties, and to have it in his Power to say, that he would never\nhave taken the Arch-Duke on Board, nor have propos'd to him the Hopes of\na Recovery of the _Spanish_ Monarchy from King _Philip_, if he could\nhave imagin'd it probable, that he should not have been at liberty to\npursue his own Design, according to his own Judgment. It must be allow'd\nvery hard for him, who had undertaken so great a Work, and that without\nany Orders from the Government; and by so doing could have had no\nJustification but by Success; I say, it must be allow'd to be very hard\n(after the Undertaking had been approv'd in _England_) that he should\nfind himself to be directed in this Manner by those at a Distance, upon\nill grounded and confident Reports from Mr. _Crow_; and compell'd, as\nit were, though General, to follow the Sentiments of Strangers, who\neither had private Views of Ambition, or had no immediate Care or\nConcern for the Troops employ'd in this Expedition.\nSuch were the present unhappy Circumstanches of the Earl of _Peterborow_\nin the Camp before _Barcelona_: Impossibilities propos'd; no Expedients\nto be accepted; a Court reproaching; Councils of War rejecting; and the\n_Dutch_ General refusing the Assistance of the Troops under his Command;\nand what surmounted all, a Despair of bringing such Animosities and\ndiffering Opinions to any tolerable Agreement. Yet all these\nDifficulties, instead of discouraging the Earl, set every Faculty of his\nmore afloat; and, at last, produc'd a lucky Thought, which was happily\nattended with Events extraordinary, and Scenes of Success much beyond\nhis Expectation; such, as the General himself was heard to confess, it\nhad been next to Folly to have look'd for; as certainly, _in prima\nfacie_, it would hardly have born proposing, to take by Surprize a Place\nmuch stronger than _Barcelona_ it self. True it is, that his only Hope\nof succeeding consisted in this: That no Person could suppose such an\nEnterprize could enter into the Imagination of Man; and without doubt\nthe General's chief Dependence lay upon what he found true in the\nSequel; that the Governor and Garrison of _Monjouick_, by reason of\ntheir own Security, would be very negligent, and very little upon their\nGuard.\nHowever, to make the Experiment, he took an Opportunity, unknown to any\nPerson but an _Aid de Camp_ that attended him, and went out to view the\nFortifications: And there being no Horse in that strong Fortress; and\nthe _Miquelets_ being possess'd of all the Houses and Gardens in the\nPlain, it was not difficult to give himself that Satisfaction, taking\nhis Way by the Foot of the Hill. The Observation he made of the Place it\nself, the Negligence and Supineness of the Garrison, together with his\nown uneasy Circumstances, soon brought the Earl to a Resolution of\nputting his first Conceptions in Execution, satisfy'd as he was, from\nthe Situation of the Ground between _Monjouick_ and the Town, that if\nthe first was in our Possession, the Siege of the latter might be\nundertaken with some Prospect of Success.\nFrom what has been said, some may be apt to conclude that the Siege\nafterward succeeding, when the Attack was made from the Side of\n_Monjouick_, it had not been impossible to have prevail'd, if the Effort\nhad been made on the East Side of the Town, where our Forces were at\nfirst encamp'd, and where only we could have made our Approaches, if\n_Monjouick_ had not been in our Power. But a few Words will convince any\nof common Experience of the utter Impossibility of Success upon the East\nPart of the Town, although many almost miraculous Accidents made us\nsucceed when we brought our Batteries to bear upon that Part of\n_Barcelona_ towards the West. The Ground to the East was a perfect Level\nfor many Miles, which would have necessitated our making our Approaches\nin a regular Way; and consequently our Men must have been expos'd to the\nfull Fire of their whole Artillery. Besides, the Town is on that Side\nmuch stronger than any other; there is an Out-work just under the Walls\nof the Town, flank'd by the Courtin and the Faces of two Bastions, which\nmight have cost us half our Troops to possess, before we could have\nrais'd a Battery against the Walls. Or supposing, after all, a competent\nBreach had been made, what a wise Piece of Work must it have been to\nhave attempted a Storm against double the Number of regular Troops\nwithin?\nOn the contrary, we were so favoured by the Situation, when we made the\nAttack from the Side of _Monjouick_, that the Breach was made and the\nTown taken without opening of Trenches, or without our being at all\nincommoded by any Sallies of the Enemy; as in truth they made not one\nduring the whole Siege. Our great Battery, which consisted of upwards of\nfifty heavy Cannon, supply'd from the Ships, and manag'd by the Seamen,\nwere plac'd upon a Spot of rising Ground, just large enough to contain\nour Guns, with two deep hollow Ways on each Side the Field, at each End\nwhereof we had rais'd a little Redoubt, which serv'd to preserve our Men\nfrom the Shot of the Town. Those little Redoubts, in which we had some\nField Pieces, flank'd the Battery, and render'd it intirely secure from\nany Surprize of the Enemy. There were several other smaller Batteries\nrais'd upon the Hills adjacent, in Places not to be approach'd, which,\nin a manner, render'd all the Artillery of the Enemy useless, by reason\ntheir Men could not play 'em, but with the utmost Danger; whereas ours\nwere secure, very few being kill'd, and those mostly by random Shot.\nBut to return to the General; forc'd, as he was, to take this\nextraordinary Resolution, he concluded, the readiest Way to surprize his\nEnemies was to elude his Friends. He therefore call'd a Council of War\na-shore, of the Land Officers; and aboard, of the Admirals and Sea\nOfficers: In both which it was resolv'd, that in case the Siege of\n_Barcelona_ was judg'd impracticable, and that the Troops should be\nre-imbark'd by a Day appointed, an Effort should be made upon the\nKingdom of _Naples_. Accordingly, the Day affix'd being come, the heavy\nArtillery landed for the Siege was return'd aboard the Ships, and every\nthing in appearance prepar'd for a Re-imbarkment. During which, the\nGeneral was oblig'd to undergo all the Reproaches of a dissatisfy'd\nCourt; and what was more uneasy to him, the Murmurings of the Sea\nOfficers, who, not so competent Judges in what related to Sieges, were\none and all inclin'd to a Design upon _Barcelona_; and the rather,\nbecause as the Season was so far spent, it was thought altogether\nimproper to engage the Fleet in any new Undertaking. However, all Things\nwere so well disguis'd by our seeming Preparations for a Retreat, that\nthe very Night our Troops were in March towards the Attack of\n_Monjouick_, there were publick Entertainments and Rejoicings in the\nTown for the raising of the Siege.\nThe Prince of _Hesse_ had taken large Liberties in complaining against\nall the Proceedings in the Camp before _Barcelona_; even to\nInsinuations, that though the Earl gave his Opinion for some Effort in\npublic, yet us'd he not sufficient Authority over the other General\nOfficers to incline them to comply; throwing out withal some Hints, that\nthe General from the Beginning had declar'd himself in favour of other\nOperations, and against coming to _Catalonia_; the latter Part whereof\nwas nothing but Fact. On the other Side, the Earl of _Peterborow_\ncomplain'd, that the boasted Assistance was no way made good; and that\nin failure thereof, his Troops were to be sacrificed to the Humours of a\nStranger; one who had no Command; and whose Conduct might bear a\nQuestion whether equal to his Courage. These Reproaches of one another\nhad bred so much ill Blood between those two great Men, that for above\na Fortnight they had no Correspondence, nor ever exchang'd one Word.\nThe Earl, however, having made his proper Dispositions, and deliver'd\nout his Orders, began his March in the Evening with twelve Hundred Foot\nand two Hundred Horse, which of necessity were to pass by the Quarters\nof the Prince of _Hesse_. That Prince, on their Appearance, was told\nthat the General was come to speak with him; and being brought into his\nApartment, the Earl acquainted him, that he had at last resolv'd upon an\nAttempt against the Enemy; adding, that now, if he pleas'd, he might be\na Judge of their Behaviour, and see whether his Officers and Soldiers\nhad deserv'd that Character which he had so liberally given 'em. The\nPrince made answer, that he had always been ready to take his Share; but\ncould hardly believe, that Troops marching that way could make any\nAttempt against the Enemy to satisfaction. However, without further\nDiscourse he call'd for his Horse.\nBy this we may see what Share Fortune has in the greatest Events. In all\nprobability the Earl of _Peterborow_ had never engag'd in such a\ndangerous Affair in cold Blood and unprovok'd; and if such an Enterprize\nhad been resolv'd on in a regular Way, it is very likely he might have\ngiven the Command to some of the General Officers; since it is not\nusual, nor hardly allowable, for one, that commands in chief, to go in\nPerson on such kind of Services. But here we see the General and Prince,\nnotwithstanding their late indifferent Harmony, engag'd together in this\nmost desperate Undertaking.\nBrigadier _Stanhope_ and Mr. _Methuen_ (now Sir _Paul_) were the\nGeneral's particular Friends, and those he most consulted, and most\nconfided in; yet he never imparted this Resolution of his to either of\nthem; for he was not willing to engage them in a Design so dangerous,\nand where there was so little Hope of Success; rather choosing to\nreserve them as Persons most capable of giving Advice and Assistance in\nthe Confusion, great enough already, which yet must have been greater,\nif any Accident had happen'd to himself. And I have very good Reason to\nbelieve, that the Motive, which mainly engag'd the Earl of _Peterborow_\nin this Enterprize, was to satisfy the Prince of _Hesse_ and the World,\nthat his Diffidence proceeded from his Concern for the Troops committed\nto his Charge, and not for his own Person. On the other Hand, the great\nCharacters of the two Gentlemen just mention'd are so well known, that\nit will easily gain Credit, that the only Way the General could take to\nprevent their being of the Party, was to conceal it from them, as he did\nfrom all Mankind, even from the Archduke himself. And certainly there\nnever was a more universal Surprize than when the firing was heard next\nMorning from _Monjouick_.\nBut I now proceed to give an exact Account of this great Action; of\nwhich no Person, that I have heard of, ever yet took upon him to deliver\nto Posterity the glorious Particulars; and yet the Consequences and\nEvents, by what follows, will appear so great, and so very\nextraordinary, that few, if any, had they had it in their Power, would\nhave deny'd themselves the Pleasure or the World the Satisfaction of\nknowing it.\nThe Troops, which march'd all Night along the Foot of the Mountains,\narriv'd two Hours before Day under the Hill of _Monjouick_, not a\nQuarter of a Mile from the outward Works: For this Reason it was taken\nfor granted, whatever the Design was which the General had propos'd to\nhimself, that it would be put in Execution before Day-light; but the\nEarl of _Peterborow_ was now pleas'd to inform the Officers of the\nReasons why he chose to stay till the Light appear'd. He was of opinion\nthat any Success would be impossible, unless the Enemy came into the\noutward Ditch under the Bastions of the second Enclosure; but that if\nthey had time allow'd them to come thither, there being no Palisadoes,\nour Men, by leaping in upon them, after receipt of their first Fire,\nmight drive 'em into the upper Works; and following them close, with\nsome Probability, might force them, under that Confusion, into the\ninward Fortifications.\nSuch were the General's Reasons then and there given; after which,\nhaving promis'd ample Rewards to such as discharg'd their Duty well, a\nLieutenant, with thirty Men, was order'd to advance towards the Bastion\nnearest the Town; and a Captain, with fifty Men, to support him. After\nthe Enemy's Fire they were to leap into the Ditch, and their Orders were\nto follow 'em close, if they retir'd into the upper Works: Nevertheless,\nnot to pursue 'em farther, if they made into the inner Fort; but to\nendeavour to cover themselves within the Gorge of the Bastion.\nA Lieutenant and a Captain, with the Like Number of Men and the same\nOrders, were commanded to a Demi-Bastion at the Extremity of the Fort\ntowards the West, which was above Musket-Shot from the inward\nFortification. Towards this Place the Wall, which was cut into the Rock,\nwas not fac'd for about twenty Yards; and here our own Men got up; where\nthey found three Pieces of Cannon upon a Platform, without many Men to\ndefend them.\nThose appointed to the Bastion towards the Town were sustain'd by two\nhundred Men; with which the General and Prince went in Person. The like\nNumber, under the Directions of Colonel _Southwell_, were to sustain the\nAttack towards the West; and about five hundred Men were left under the\nCommand of a _Dutch_ Colonel, whose Orders were to assist, where, in his\nown Judgment, he should think most proper; and these were drawn up\nbetween the two Parties appointed to begin the Assault. My Lot was on\nthe Side where the Prince and Earl were in Person; and where we\nsustain'd the only Loss from the first Fire of the Enemy.\nOur men, though quite expos'd, and though the Glacis was all escarp'd\nupon the live Rock, went on with an undaunted Courage; and immediately\nafter the first Fire of the Enemy, all, that were not kill'd or wounded,\nleap'd in, _pel-mel_, amongst the Enemy; who, being thus boldly\nattack'd, and seeing others pouring in upon 'em, retir'd in great\nConfusion; and some one Way, some another, ran into the inward Works.\nThere was a large Port in the Flank of the principal Bastion, towards\nthe North-East, and a cover'd Way, through which the General and the\nPrince of _Hesse_ follow'd the flying Forces; and by that Means became\npossess'd of it. Luckily enough here lay a Number of great Stones in the\nGorge of the Bastion, for the Use of the Fortification; with which we\nmade a Sort of Breast-Work, before the Enemy recover'd of their Amaze,\nor made any considerable Fire upon us from their inward Fort, which\ncommanded the upper Part of that Bastion.\nWe were afterwards inform'd, that the Commander of the Citadel,\nexpecting but one Attack, had call'd off the Men from the most distant\nand western Part of the Fort, to that Side which was next the Town; upon\nwhich our Men got into a Demi-Bastion in the most extream Part of the\nFortification. Here they got Possession of three Pieces of Cannon, with\nhardly any Opposition; and had Leisure to cast up a little Retrenchment,\nand to make use of the Guns they had taken to defend it. Under this\nSituation, the Enemy, when drove into the inward Fort, were expos'd to\nour Fire from those Places we were possess'd of, in case they offer'd to\nmake any Sally, or other Attempt against us. Thus we every Moment became\nbetter and better prepar'd against any Effort of the Garrison. And as\nthey could not pretend to assail us without evident Hazard; so nothing\nremain'd for us to do, till we could bring up our Artillery and Mortars.\nNow it was that the General sent for the thousand Men under Brigadier\n_Stanhope's_ Command, which he had posted at a Convent, halfway between\nthe Town and _Monjouick_.\nThere was almost a total Cessation of Fire, the Men on both Sides being\nunder Cover. The General was in the upper Part of the Bastion; the\nPrince of _Hesse_ below, behind a little Work at the Point of the\nBastion, whence he could only see the Heads of the Enemy over the\nParapet of the inward Fort. Soon after an Accident happen'd which cost\nthat gallant Prince his Life.\nThe Enemy had Lines of Communication between _Barcelona_ and\n_Monjouick_. The Governor of the former, upon hearing the firing from\nthe latter, immediately sent four hundred Dragoons on Horseback, under\nOrders, that two Hundred dismounting should reinforce the Garrison, and\nthe other two Hundred should return with their Horses back to the Town.\nWhen those two Hundred Dragoons were accordingly got into the inward\nFort, unseen by any of our Men, the _Spaniards_, waving their Hats over\ntheir Heads, repeated over and over, _Viva el Rey, Viva_. This the\nPrince of _Hesse_ unfortunately took for a Signal of their Desire to\nsurrender. Upon which, with too much Warmth and Precipitancy, calling to\nthe Soldiers following, _They surrender, they surrender_, he advanc'd\nwith near three Hundred Men (who follow'd him without any Orders from\ntheir General) along the Curtain which led to the Ditch of the inward\nFort. The Enemy suffered them to come into the Ditch, and there\nsurrounding 'em, took two Hundred of them Prisoners, at the same time\nmaking a Discharge upon the rest, who were running back the Way they\ncame. This firing brought the Earl of _Peterborow_ down from the upper\nPart of the Bastion, to see what was doing below. When he had just\nturn'd the Point of the Bastion, he saw the Prince of _Hesse_ retiring,\nwith the Men that had so rashly advanc'd. The Earl had exchang'd a very\nfew Words with him, when, from a second Fire, that Prince receiv'd a\nShot in the great Artery of the Thigh, of which he died immediately,\nfalling down at the General's Feet, who instantly gave Orders to carry\noff the Body to the next Convent.\nAlmost the same Moment an Officer came to acquaint the Earl of\n_Peterborow_, that a great Body of Horse and Foot, at least three\nThousand, were on their March from _Barcelona_ towards the Fort. The\nDistance is near a Mile, all uneven Ground; so that the Enemy was either\ndiscoverable, or not to be seen, just as they were marching on the Hills\nor in the Vallies. However, the General directly got on Horseback, to\ntake a View of those Forces from the rising Ground without the Fort,\nhaving left all the Posts, which were already taken, well secur'd with\nthe allotted Numbers of Officers and Soldiers.\nBut the Event will demonstrate of what Consequence the Absence or\nPresence of one Man may prove on great Occasions; No sooner was the Earl\nout of the Fort, the Care of which he had left under the Command of the\nLord _Charlemont_ (a Person of known Merit and undoubted Courage, but\nsomewhat too flexible in his Temper) when a panick Fear (tho' the Earl,\nas I have said, was only gone to take a View of the Enemy) seiz'd upon\nthe Soldiery, which was a little too easily comply'd with by the Lord\n_Charlemont_, then commanding Officer. True it is; for I heard an\nOfficer, ready enough to take such Advantages, urge to him, that none of\nall those Posts we were become Masters of, were tenable; that to offer\nat it would be no better than wilfully sacrificing human Lives to\nCaprice and Humour; and just like a Man's knocking his Head against\nStone Walls, to try which was hardest. Having over-heard this Piece of\nLip-Oratory, and finding by the Answer that it was too likely to\nprevail, and that all I was like to say would avail nothing. I slipt\naway as fast as I could, to acquaint the General with the Danger\nimpending.\nAs I pass'd along, I took notice that the Panick was upon the Increase,\nthe general Rumor affirming, that we should be all cut off by the Troops\nthat were come out of _Barcelona_, if we did not immediately gain the\nHills, or the Houses possess'd by the _Miquelets_. Officers and\nSoldiers, under this prevailing Terror, quitted their Posts; and in one\nunited Body (the Lord _Charlemont_ at the Head of them) march'd, or\nrather hurry'd out of the Fort; and were come halfway down the Hill\nbefore the Earl of _Peterborow_ came up to them. Though on my\nacquainting him with the shameful and surprizing Accident he made no\nStay, but answering, with a good deal of Vehemence, _Good God, is it\npossible?_ hastened back as fast as he could.\nI never thought my self happier than in this Piece of Service to my\nCountry. I confess I could not but value it, as having been therein more\nthan a little instrumental in the glorious Successes which succeeded;\nsince immediately upon this Notice from me, the Earl gallop'd up the\nHill, and lighting when he came to Lord _Charlemont_, he took his\nHalf-pike out of his Hand; and turning to the Officers and Soldiers,\ntold them, if they would not face about and follow him, they should have\nthe Scandal and eternal Infamy upon them of having deserted their Posts,\nand abandon'd their General.\nIt was surprizing to see with what Alacrity and new Courage they fac'd\nabout and follow'd the Earl of _Peterborow_. In a Moment they had forgot\ntheir Apprehensions; and, without doubt, had they met with any\nOpposition, they would have behav'd themselves with the greatest\nBravery. But as these Motions were unperceiv'd by the Enemy, all the\nPosts were regain'd, and anew possess'd in less than half an Hour,\nwithout any Loss: Though, had our Forces march'd half Musket-shot\nfarther, their Retreat would have been perceiv'd, and all the Success\nattendant on this glorious Attempt must have been intirely blasted.\nAnother Incident which attended this happy Enterprize was this: The two\nhundred Men which fell into the Hands of the Enemy, by the unhappy\nMistake of the Prince of _Hesse_, were carry'd directly into the Town.\nThe Marquis of _Risburg_, a Lieutenant-General, who commanded the three\nthousand Men which were marching from the Town to the Relief of the\nFort, examin'd the Prisoners, as they pass'd by; and they all agreeing\nthat the General and the Prince of _Hesse_ were in Person with the\nTroops that made the Attack on _Monjouick_, the Marquis gave immediate\nOrders to retire to the Town; taking it for granted, that the main Body\nof the Troops attended the Prince and General; and that some Design\ntherefore was on foot to intercept his Return, in case he should venture\ntoo far. Thus the unfortunate Loss of our two hundred Men turn'd to our\nAdvantage, in preventing the Advance of the Enemy, which must have put\nthe Earl of _Peterborow_ to inconceivable Difficulties.\nThe Body of one Thousand, under Brigadier _Stanhope_, being come up to\n_Monjouick_, and no Interruption given us by the Enemy, our Affairs were\nput into very good Order on this Side; while the Camp on the other Side\nwas so fortify'd, that the Enemy, during the Siege, never made one\nEffort against it. In the mean time, the Communication between the two\nCamps was secure enough; although our Troops were obliged to a tedious\nMarch along the Foot of the Hills, whenever the General thought fit to\nrelieve those on Duty on the Side of the Attack, from those Regiments\nencamp'd on the West Side of _Barcelona_.\nThe next Day, after the Earl of _Peterborow_ had taken Care to secure\nthe first Camp to the Eastward of the Town, he gave Orders to the\nOfficers of the Fleet to land the Artillery and Ammunition behind the\nFortress to the Westward. Immediately upon the Landing whereof, two\nMortars were fix'd; from both which we ply'd the Fort of _Monjouick_\nfuriously with our Bombs. But the third or fourth Day, one of our Shells\nfortunately lighting on their Magazine of Powder, blew it up; and with\nit the Governor, and many principal Officers who were at Dinner with\nhim. The Blast, at the same Instant, threw down a Face of one of the\nsmaller Bastions; which the vigilant _Miquelets_, ready enough to take\nall Advantages, no sooner saw (for they were under the Hill, very near\nthe Place) but they readily enter'd, while the Enemy were under the\nutmost Confusion. If the Earl, no less watchful than they, had not at\nthe same Moment thrown himself in with some regular Troops, and\nappeas'd the general Disorder, in all probability the Garrison had been\nput to the Sword. However, the General's Presence not only allay'd the\nFury of the _Miquelets_; but kept his own Troops under strictest\nDiscipline: So that in a happy Hour for the frighted Garrison, the\nGeneral gave Officers and Soldiers Quarters, making them Prisoners of\nWar.\nHow critical was that Minute wherein the General met his retreating\nCommander? a very few Steps farther had excluded us our own Conquests,\nto the utter Loss of all those greater Glories which ensu'd. Nor would\nthat have been the worst; for besides the Shame attending such an ill\nconcerted Retreat from our Acquests on _Monjouick_, we must have felt\nthe accumulative Disgrace of infamously retiring aboard the Ships that\nbrought us; but Heaven reserv'd for our General amazing Scenes both of\nGlory and Mortification.\nI cannot here omit one Singularity of Life, which will demonstrate Men's\ndifferent Way of Thinking, if not somewhat worse; when many Years after,\nto one in Office, who seem'd a little too dead to my Complaints, and by\nthat Means irritating my human Passions, injustice to my self, as well\nas Cause, I urged this Piece of Service, by which I not only preserv'd\nthe Place, but the Honour of my Country, that _Minister petite_, to\nmortify my Expectations and baffle my Plea, with a Grimace as odd as his\nLogick, return'd, that, in his Opinion, the Service pretended was a\nDisservice to the Nation; since Perseverance had cost the Government\nmore Money than all our Conquests were worth, could we have kept 'em. So\nirregular are the Conceptions of Man, when even great Actions thwart the\nBent of an interested Will!\nThe Fort of _Monjouick_ being thus surprizingly reduc'd, furnish'd a\nstrange Vivacity to Mens Expectations, and as extravagantly flatter'd\ntheir Hopes; for as Success never fails to excite weaker Minds to pursue\ntheir good Fortune, though many times to their own Loss; so is it often\ntoo apt to push on more elevated Spirits to renew the Encounter for\natchieving new Conquests, by hazarding too rashly all their former\nGlory. Accordingly, every Body now began to make his utmost Efforts; and\nlook'd upon himself as a Drone, if he was not employ'd in doing\nsomething or other towards pushing forward the Siege of _Barcelona_ it\nself, and raising proper Batteries for that Purpose. But, after all, it\nmust in Justice be acknowledg'd, that notwithstanding this prodigious\nSuccess that attended this bold Enterprize, the Land Forces of\nthemselves, without the Assistance of the Sailors, could never have\nreduc'd the Town. The Commanders and Officers of the Fleet had always\nevinc'd themselves Favourers of this Project upon _Barcelona_. A new\nUndertaking so late in the Year, as I have said before, was their utter\nAversion, and what they hated to hear of. Elated therefore with a\nBeginning so auspicious, they gave a more willing Assistance than could\nhave been ask'd, or judiciously expected. The Admirals forgot their\nElement, and acted as General Officers at Land: They came every Day from\ntheir Ships, with a Body of Men form'd into Companies, and regularly\nmarshall'd and commanded by Captains and Lieutenants of their own.\nCaptain _Littleton_ in particular, one of the most advanced Captains in\nthe whole Fleet, offer'd of himself to take care of the Landing and\nConveyance of the Artillery to the Camp. And answerable to that his\nfirst Zeal was his Vigour all along, for finding it next to an\nImpossibility to draw the Cannon and Mortars up such vast Precipices by\nHorses, if the Country had afforded them, he caus'd Harnesses to be made\nfor two hundred Men; and by that Means, after a prodigious Fatigue and\nLabour, brought the Cannon and Mortars necessary for the Siege up to the\nvery Batteries.\nIn this Manner was the Siege begun; nor was it carry'd on with any less\nApplication; the Approaches being made by an Army of Besiegers, that\nvery little, if at all, exceeded the Number of the Besieg'd; not\naltogether in a regular Manner, our few Forces would not admit it; but\nyet with Regularity enough to secure our two little Camps, and preserve\na Communication between both, not to be interrupted or incommoded by the\nEnemy. We had soon erected three several Batteries against the Place,\nall on the West Side of the Town, _viz_. one of nine Guns, another of\nTwelve, and the last of upwards of Thirty. From all which we ply'd the\nTown incessantly, and with all imaginable Fury; and very often in whole\nVollies.\nNevertheless it was thought not only adviseable, but necessary, to erect\nanother Battery, upon a lower Piece of Ground under a small Hill; which\nlying more within Reach, and opposite to those Places where the Walls\nwere imagin'd weakest, would annoy the Town the more; and being design'd\nfor six Guns only, might soon be perfected. A _French_ Engeneer had the\nDirection; and indeed very quickly perfected it. But when it came to be\nconsider'd which way to get the Cannon to it, most were of opinion that\nit would be absolutely impracticable, by reason of the vast Descent;\ntho' I believe they might have added a stronger Reason, and perhaps more\nintrinsick, that it was extremely expos'd to the Fire of the Enemy.\nHaving gain'd some little Reputation in the Attack of _Monjouick_, this\nDifficulty was at last to be put upon me; and as some, not my Enemies,\nsuppos'd, more out of Envy than good Will. However, when I came to the\nPlace, and had carefully taken a View of it, though I was sensible\nenough of the Difficulty, I made my main Objection as to the Time for\naccomplishing it; for it was then between Nine and Ten, and the Guns\nwere to be mounted by Day-light. Neither could I at present see any\nother Way to answer their Expectations, than by casting the Cannon down\nthe Precipice, at all Hazards, to the Place below, where that fourth\nBattery was erected.\nThis wanted not Objections to; and therefore to answer my Purpose, as to\npoint of Time, sixty Men more were order'd me, as much as possible to\nfacilitate the Work by Numbers; and accordingly I set about it. Just as\nI was setting all Hands to work, and had given Orders to my Men to begin\nsome Paces back, to make the Descent more gradual, and thereby render\nthe Task a little more feasible, Major _Collier_, who commanded the\nTrain, came to me; and perceiving the Difficulties of the Undertaking,\nin a Fret told me, I was impos'd upon; and vow'd he would go and find\nout Brigadier _Petit_, and let him know the Impossibility, as well as\nthe Unreasonableness of the Task I was put upon. He had scarce utter'd\nthose Words, and turn'd himself round to perform his Promise, when an\nunlucky Shot with a Musket-Ball wounded him through the Shoulder; upon\nwhich he was carry'd off, and I saw him not till some considerable time\nafter.\nBy the painful Diligence, and the additional Compliment of Men, however,\nI so well succeeded (such was my great good Fortune) that the Way was\nmade, and the Guns, by the Help of Fascines, and other lesser\nPreparations below, safely let down and mounted; so that that fourth\nBattery began to play upon the Town before Break of Day; and with all\nthe Success that was propos'd.\nIn short, the Breach in a very few Days after was found wholly\npracticable; and all Things were got ready for a general Storm. Which\nDon _Valasco_ the Governor being sensible of, immediately beat a Parley;\nupon which it was, among other Articles, concluded, that the Town should\nbe surrender'd in three Days; and the better to ensure it, the Bastion,\nwhich commanded the Port St. _Angelo_, was directly put into our\nPossession.\nBut before the Expiration of the limited three Days, a very unexpected\nAccident fell out, which hasten'd the Surrender. Don _Valasco_, during\nhis Government, had behav'd himself very arbitrarily, and thereby\nprocur'd, as the Consequence of it, a large Proportion of ill will, not\nonly among the Townsmen, but among the _Miquelets_, who had, in their\nZeal to King _Charles_, flock'd from all Parts of _Catalonia_ to the\nSiege of their Capital; and who, on the Signing of the Articles of\nSurrender, had found various Ways, being well acquainted with the most\nprivate Avenues, to get by Night into the Town: So that early in the\nMorning they began to plunder all that they knew Enemies to King\n_Charles_, or thought Friends to the Prince his Competitor.\nTheir main Design was upon _Valasco_ the Governor, whom, if they could\nhave got into their Hands, it was not to be question'd, but as far as\nhis Life and Limbs would have serv'd, they would have sufficiently\nsatiated their Vengeance upon. He expected no less; and therefore\nconcealed himself, till the Earl of _Peterborow_ could give Orders for\nhis more safe and private Conveyance by Sea to _Alicant_.\nNevertheless, in the Town all was in the utmost Confusion; which the\nEarl of _Peterborow_, at the very first hearing, hastened to appease;\nwith his usual Alacrity he rid all alone to Port St. _Angelo_, where at\nthat time my self happen'd to be; and demanding to be admitted, the\nOfficer of the Guard, under Fear and Surprise, open'd the Wicket,\nthrough which the Earl enter'd, and I after him.\nScarce had we gone a hundred Paces, when we saw a Lady of apparent\nQuality, and indisputable Beauty, in a strange, but most affecting\nAgony, flying from the apprehended Fury of the _Miquelets_; her lovely\nHair was all flowing about her Shoulders, which, and the Consternation\nshe was in, rather added to, than any thing diminish'd from the Charms\nof an Excess of Beauty. She, as is very natural to People in Distress,\nmade up directly to the Earl, her Eyes satisfying her he was a Person\nlikely to give her all the Protection she wanted. And as soon as ever\nshe came near enough, in a Manner that declar'd her Quality before she\nspoke, she crav'd that Protection, telling him, the better to secure it,\nwho it was that ask'd it. But the generous Earl presently convinc'd her,\nhe wanted no Intreaties, having, before he knew her to be the Dutchess\nof _Popoli_, taken her by the Hand, in order to convey her through the\nWicket which he enter'd at, to a Place of Safety without the Town.\nI stay'd behind, while the Earl convey'd the distress'd Dutchess to her\nrequested _Asylum_; and I believe it was much the longest Part of an\nHour before he return'd. But as soon as ever he came back, he, and my\nself, at his Command, repair'd to the Place of most Confusion, which the\nextraordinary Noise full readily directed us to; and which happened to\nbe on the Parade before the Palace. There it was that the _Miquelets_\nwere making their utmost Efforts to get into their Hands the almost sole\nOccasion of the Tumult, and the Object of their raging Fury, the Person\nof Don _Valasco_, the late Governor.\nIt was here that the Earl preserv'd that Governor from the violent, but\nperhaps too just Resentments of the _Miquelets_; and, as I said before,\nconvey'd him by Sea to _Alicant_. And, indeed, I could little doubt the\nEffect, or be any thing surpriz'd at the Easiness of the Task, when I\nsaw, that wherever he appear'd the popular Fury was in a Moment allay'd,\nand that every Dictate of that General was assented to with the utmost\nChearfulness and Deference. _Valasco_, before his Embarkment, had given\nOrders, in Gratitude to his Preserver, for all the Gates to be deliver'd\nup, tho' short of the stipulated Term; and they were accordingly so\ndelivered, and our Troops took Possession so soon as ever that Governor\nwas aboard the Ship that was to convey him to _Alicant_.\nDuring the Siege of _Barcelona_, Brigadier _Stanhope_ order'd a Tent to\nbe pitch'd as near the Trenches as possibly could be with Safety; where\nhe not only entertain'd the chief Officers who were upon Duty, but\nlikewise the _Catalonian_ Gentlemen who brought _Miquelets_ to our\nAssistance. I remember I saw an old Cavalier, having his only Son with\nhim, who appear'd a fine young Gentleman, about twenty Years of Age, go\ninto the Tent, in order to dine with the Brigadier. But whilst they were\nat Dinner, an unfortunate Shot came from the Bastion of St. _Antonio_,\nand intirely struck off the Head of the Son. The father immediately rose\nup, first looking down upon his headless Child, and then lifting up his\nEyes to Heaven, whilst the Tears ran down his Cheeks, he cross'd\nhimself, and only said, _Fiat voluntas tua_, and bore it with a\nwonderful Patience. 'Twas a sad Spectacle, and truly it affects me now\nwhilst I am writing.\nThe Earl of _Peterborow_, tho' for some time after the Revolution he had\nbeen employ'd in civil Affairs, return'd to the military Life with great\nSatisfaction, which was ever his Inclination. Brigadier _Stanhope_, who\nwas justly afterwards created an Earl, did well deserve this Motto, _Tam\nMarte quam Mercurio_; for truly he behav'd, all the time he continu'd in\n_Spain_, as if he had been inspir'd with Conduct; for the Victory at\n_Almanar_ was intirely owing to him; and likewise at the Battle of\n_Saragosa_ he distinguish'd himself with great Bravery. That he had not\nSuccess at _Bruhega_ was not his Fault; for no Man can resist Fate; for\n'twas decreed by Heaven that _Philip_ should remain King of _Spain_, and\n_Charles_ to be Emperor of _Germany_. Yet each of these Monarchs have\nbeen ungrateful to the Instruments which the Almighty made use of to\npreserve them upon their Thrones; for one had not been King of _Spain_\nbut for _France_; and the other had not been Emperor but for _England_.\n_Barcelona_, the chief Place in _Catalonia_, being thus in our Hands, as\nsoon as the Garrison, little inferior to our Army, had march'd out with\nDrums beating, Colours flying, _&c_. according to the Articles,\n_Charles_ the Third made his publick Entry, and was proclaim'd King, and\nreceiv'd with the general Acclamations, and all other Demonstrations of\nJoy suitable to that great Occasion.\nSome Days after which, the Citizens, far from being satiated with their\nformer Demonstrations of their Duty, sent a Petition to the King, by\nproper Deputies for that Purpose appointed, desiring Leave to give more\nample Instances of their Affections in a public _Cavalcade_. The King\ngranted their Request, and the Citizens, pursuant thereto, made their\nPreparations.\nOn the Day appointed, the King, plac'd in a Balcony belonging to the\nHouse of the Earl of _Peterborow_, appear'd ready to honour the Show.\nThe Ceremonial, to speak nothing figuratively, was very fine and grand:\nThose of the first Rank made their Appearance in decent Order, and upon\nfine Horses; and others under Arms, and in Companies, march'd with\nnative Gravity and Grandeur, all saluting his Majesty as they pass'd by,\nafter the _Spanish_ Manner, which that Prince return'd with the Movement\nof his Hand to his Mouth; for the Kings of _Spain_ are not allow'd to\nsalute, or return a Salute, by any Motion to, or of, the Hat.\nAfter these follow'd several Pageants; the first of which was drawn by\nMules, set off to the Height with stateliest Feathers, and adorn'd with\nlittle Bells. Upon the Top of this Pageant appear'd a Man dress'd all in\nGreen; but in the Likeness of a Dragon. The Pageant making a Stop just\nover-against the Balcony where the King sate, the Dragonical\nRepresentative diverted him with great Variety of Dancings, the Earl of\n_Peterborow_ all the time throwing out Dollars by Handfuls among the\nPopulace, which they as constantly receiv'd with the loud Acclamation\nand repeated Cries of _Viva, Viva, Carlos Terceros, Viva la Casa\nd'Austria_.\nWhen that had play'd its Part, another Pageant, drawn as before, made a\nlike full Stop before the same Balcony. On this was plac'd a very large\nCage, or Aviary, the Cover of which, by Springs contriv'd for that\nPurpose, immediately flew open, and out of it a surprizing Flight of\nBirds of various Colours. These, all amaz'd at their sudden Liberty,\nwhich I took to be the Emblem intended, hover'd a considerable space of\ntime over and about their Place of Freedom, chirping, singing, and\notherwise testifying their mighty Joy for their so unexpected\nEnlargement.\nThere were many other Pageants; but having little in them very\nremarkable, I have forgot the Particulars. Nevertheless, every one of\nthem was dismiss'd with the like Acclamations of _Viva, Viva_; the\nWhole concluding with Bonfires and Illuminations common on all such\nOccasions.\nI cannot here omit one very remarkable Instance of the Catholick Zeal of\nthat Prince, which I was soon after an Eye-witness of. I was at that\ntime in the Fruit-Market, when the King passing by in his Coach, the\nHost (whether by Accident or Contrivance I cannot say) was brought, at\nthat very Juncture, out of the great Church, in order, as I after\nunderstood, to a poor sick Woman's receiving the Sacrament. On Sight of\nthe Host the King came out of his Coach, kneel'd down in the Street,\nwhich at that time prov'd to be very dirty, till the Host pass'd by;\nthen rose up, and taking the lighted Flambeau from him who bore it, he\nfollow'd the Priest up a streight nasty Alley, and there up a dark\nordinary Pair of Stairs, where the poor sick Woman lay. There he stay'd\ntill the whole Ceremony was over, when, returning to the Door of the\nChurch, he very faithfully restor'd the lighted Flambeau to the Fellow\nhe had taken it from, the People all the while crying out _Viva, Viva_;\nan Acclamation, we may imagine, intended to his Zeal, as well as his\nPerson.\nAnother remarkable Accident, of a much more moral Nature, I must,\ninjustice to the Temperance of that, in this truly inimitable People,\nrecite. I was one Day walking in one of the most populous Streets of\nthat City, where I found an uncommon Concourse of People, of all Sorts,\ngot together; and imagining so great a Croud could not be assembled on a\nsmall Occasion, I prest in among the rest; and after a good deal of\nStruggling and Difficulty, reach'd into the Ring and Centre of that\nmix'd Multitude. But how did I blush? with what Confusion did I appear?\nwhen I found one of my own Countrymen, a drunken Granadier, the\nattractive Loadstone of all that high and low Mob, and the Butt of all\ntheir Merriment? It will be easily imagin'd to be a Thing not a little\nsurprizing to one of our Country, to find that a drunken Man should be\nsuch a wonderful Sight; However, the witty Sarcasms that were then by\nhigh and low thrown upon that senseless Creature, and as I interpreted\nMatters, me in him, were so pungent, that if I did not curse my\nCuriosity, I thought it best to withdraw my self as fast as Legs could\ncarry me away.\n_BARCELONA_ being now under King _Charles_, the Towns of _Gironne,\nTarragona, Tortosa_, and _Lerida_, immediately declar'd for him. To\nevery one of which Engeneers being order'd, it was my Lot to be sent to\n_Tortosa_. This Town is situated on the Side of the River _Ebro_, over\nwhich there is a fair and famous Bridge of Boats. The Waters of this\nRiver are always of a dirty red Colour, somewhat fouler than our Moorish\nWaters; yet is it the only Water the Inhabitants drink, or covet to\ndrink; and every House providing for its own Convenience Cisterns to\npreserve it in, by a few Hours standing it becomes as clear as the\nclearest Rock-water, but as soft as Milk. In short, for Softness,\nBrightness, and Pleasantness of Taste, the Natives prefer it to all the\nWaters in the World. And I must declare in favour of their Opinion, that\nnone ever pleas'd me like it.\nThis Town was of the greater Moment to our Army, as opening a Passage\ninto the Kingdom of _Valencia_ on one Side, and the Kingdom of _Arragon_\non the other: And being of it self tolerably defensible, in human\nAppearance might probably repay a little Care and Charge in its Repair\nand Improvement. Upon this Employ was I appointed, and thus was I\nbusy'd, till the Arrival of the Earl of _Peterborow_ with his little\nArmy, in order to march to _Valencia_, the Capital of that Province.\nHere he left in Garrison Colonel _Hans Hamilton_'s Regiment; the Place,\nnevertheless, was under the Command of a _Spanish_ Governor, appointed\nby King _Charles_.\nWhile the Earl stay'd a few Days at this Place, under Expectation of the\npromis'd Succours from _Barcelona_, he receiv'd _a Proprio_ (or Express)\nfrom the King of _Spain_, full of Excuses, instead of Forces. And yet\nthe very same Letter, in a paradoxical Manner, commanded him, at all\nEvents, to attempt the Relief of _Santo Mattheo_, where Colonel _Jones_\ncommanded, and which was then under Siege by the _Conde de los Torres_\n(as was the Report) with upwards of three thousand Men. The Earl of\n_Peterborow_ could not muster above one thousand Foot, and about two\nhundred Horse; a small Force to make an Attempt of that Nature upon such\na superior Power: Yet the Earl's Vivacity (as will be occasionally\nfurther observ'd in the Course of these Memoirs) never much regarded\nNumbers, so there was but room, by any Stratagem, to hope for Success.\nTrue it is, for his greater Encouragement and Consolation, the same\nLetter intimated, that a great Concourse of the Country People being up\nin Arms, to the Number of many Thousands, in Favour of King _Charles_,\nand wanting only Officers, the Enterprize would be easy and unattended\nwith much Danger. But upon mature Enquiry, the Earl found that great\nBody of Men all _in nubibus_; and that the _Conde_, in the plain Truth\nof the Matter, was much stronger than the Letter at first represented.\n_Santo Mattheo_ was a Place of known Importance; and that from its\nSituation, which cut off all Communication between _Catalonia_ and\n_Valencia_; and, consequently, should it fall into the Hands of the\nEnemy, the Earl's Design upon the latter must inevitably have been\npostpon'd. It must be granted, the Commands for attempting the Relief of\nit were pressing and peremptory; nevertheless, the Earl was very\nconscious to himself, that as the promis'd Reinforcements were\nsuspended, his Officers would not approve of the Attempt upon the Foot\nof such vast Inequalities; and their own declar'd Sentiments soon\nconfirm'd the Dictates of the Earl's Reason. He therefore addresses\nhimself to those Officers in a different Manner: He told 'em he only\ndesir'd they would be passive, and leave it to him to work his own Way.\nAccordingly, the Earl found out and hired two _Spanish_ Spies, for whose\nFidelity (as his great Precaution always led him to do) he took\nsufficient Security; and dispatch'd 'em with a Letter to Colonel\n_Jones_, Governor of the Place, intimating his Readiness, as well as\nAbility, to relieve him; and, above all, exhorting him to have the\n_Miquelets_ in the Town ready, on Sight of his Troops, to issue out,\npursue, and plunder; since that would be all they would have to do, and\nall he would expect at their Hands. The Spies were dispatch'd\naccordingly; and, pursuant to Instructions, one betray'd and discover'd\nthe other who had the Letter in charge to deliver to Colonel _Jones_.\nThe Earl, to carry on the Feint, having in the mean time, by dividing\nhis Troops, and marching secretly over the Mountains, drawn his Men\ntogether, so as to make their Appearance on the Height of a neighbouring\nMountain, little more than Cannot-shot from the Enemy's Camp. The Tale\nof the Spies was fully confirm'd, and the _Conde_ (though an able\nGeneral) march'd off with some Precipitation with his Army; and by that\nMeans the Earl's smaller Number of twelve Hundred had Liberty to march\ninto the Town without Interruption. I must not let slip an Action of\nColonel _Jones_'s just before the Earl's Delivery of them: The _Conde_,\nfor want of Artillery, had set his Miners to work; and the Colonel,\nfinding they had made some dangerous Advances, turned the Course of a\nRivulet, that ran through the Middle of the Town, in upon them, and made\nthem quit a Work they thought was brought to Perfection.\n_SANTO Mattheo_ being reliev'd, as I have said, the Earl, though he had\nso far gain'd his Ends, left not the flying Enemy without a Feint of\nPursuit; with such Caution, nevertheless, that in case they should\nhappen to be better inform'd of his Weakness, he might have a Resource\neither back again to _Santo Mattheo_, or to _Vinaros_ on the Sea-side;\nor some other Place, as occasion might require. But having just before\nreceiv'd fresh Advice, that the Reinforcements he expected were anew\ncountermanded; and that the Duke of _Anjou_ had increas'd his Troops to\ntwelve thousand Men; the Officers, not enough elated with the last\nSuccess to adventure upon new Experiments, resolv'd, in a Council of\nWar, to advise the Earl, who had just before receiv'd a discretionary\nCommission in lieu of Troops, so to post the Forces under him, as not to\nbe cut off from being able to assist the King in Person; or to march to\nthe Defence of _Catalonia_, in case of Necessity.\nPursuant to this Resolution of the Council of War, the Earl of\n_Peterborow_, tho' still intent upon his Expedition into _Valencia_\n(which had been afresh commanded, even while his Supplies were\ncountermanded) orders his Foot, in a truly bad Condition, by tedious\nMarches Day and Night over the Mountains, to _Vinaros_; and with his two\nhundred Horse, set out to prosecute his pretended Design of pursuing the\nflying Enemy; resolv'd, if possible, notwithstanding all seemingly\ndesperate Circumstances, to perfect the Security of that Capital.\nTo that Purpose, the Earl, with his small Body of Patrolers, went on\nfrightning the Enemy, till they came under the Walls of _Nules_, a Town\nfortify'd with the best Walls, regular Towers, and in the best Repair of\nany in that Kingdom. But even here, upon the Appearance of the Earl's\nForlorn (if they might not properly at that time all have pass'd under\nthat Character) under the same Panick they left that sensible Town,\nwith only one Thousand of the Town's People, well arm'd, for the Defence\nof it. Yet was it scarce to be imagin'd, that the Earl, with his small\nBody of two hundred Horse, should be able to gain Admission; or, indeed,\nunder such Circumstances, to attempt it. But bold as the Undertaking\nwas, his good Genius went along with him; and so good a Genius was it,\nthat it rarely left him without a good Effect. He had been told the Day\nbefore, that the Enemy, on leaving _Nules_, had got Possession of _Villa\nReal_, where they put all to the Sword. What would have furnish'd\nanother with Terror, inspir'd his Lordship with a Thought as fortunate\nas it was successful. The Earl rides up to the very Gates of the Town,\nat the Head of his Party, and peremptorily demands the chief Magistrate,\nor a Priest, immediately to be sent out to him; and that under Penalty\nof being all put to the Sword, and us'd as the Enemy had us'd those at\n_Villa-Real_ the Day or two before. The Troops, that had so lately left\nthe Place, had left behind 'em more Terror than Men; which, together\nwith the peremptory Demand of the Earl, soon produc'd some Priests to\nwait upon the General. By their Readiness to obey, the Earl very justly\nimagin'd Fear to be the Motive; wherefore, to improve their Terror, he\nonly allow'd them six Minutes time to resolve upon a Surrender, telling\nthem, that otherwise, so soon as his Artillery was come up, he would lay\nthem under the utmost Extremities. The Priests return'd with this\nmelancholy Message into the Place; and in a very short time after the\nGates were thrown open. Upon the Earl's Entrance he found two hundred\nHorse, which were the Original of his Lordship's forming that Body of\nHorse, which afterwards prov'd the saving of _Valencia_.\nThe News of the taking of _Nules_ soon overtook the flying Enemy; and so\nincreas'd the Apprehensions of their Danger, that they renew'd their\nMarch, the same Day; though what they had taken before would have\nsatisfy'd them much better without it. On the other hand, the Earl was\nso well pleas'd with his Success, that leaving the Enemy to fly before\ntheir Fears, he made a short Turn towards _Castillon de la Plana_, a\nconsiderable, but open Town, where his Lordship furnish'd himself with\nfour hundred Horses more; and all this under the Assurance that his\nTroops were driving the Enemy before them out of the Kingdom. Hence he\nsent Orders to Colonel _Pierce's_ Regiment at _Vinaros_ to meet him at\n_Oropesa_, a Place at no great Distance; where, when they came, they\nwere very pleasingly surpriz'd at their being well mounted, and\nfurnish'd with all Accoutrements necessary. After which, leaving 'em\ncanton'd in wall'd Towns, where they could not be disturb'd without\nArtillery, that indefatigable General, leaving them full Orders, went on\nhis way towards _Tortosa_.\nAt _Vinaros_ the Earl met with Advice, that the _Spanish_ Militia of the\nKingdom of _Valencia_ were assembled, and had already advanc'd a Day's\nMarch at least into that Country. Upon which, collecting, as fast as he\ncould, the whole Corps together, the Earl resolv'd to penetrate into\n_Valencia_ directly; notwithstanding this whole collected Body would\namount to no more than six hundred Horse and two thousand Foot.\nBut there was a strong Pass over a River, just under the Walls of\n_Molviedro_, which must be first disputed and taken. This Brigadier\n_Mahoni_, by the Orders of the Duke of _Arcos_, who commanded the Troops\nof the Duke of _Anjou_ in the Kingdom of _Valencia_, had taken care to\nsecure. _Molviedro_, though not very strong, is a wall'd Town, very\npopulous of it self; and had in it, besides a Garrison of eight hundred\nMen, most of _Mahoni_'s Dragoons. It lies at the very Bottom of a high\nHill; on the upper Part whereof they shew the Ruins of the once famous\nSAGUNTUM; famous sure to Eternity, if Letters shall last so long, for an\ninviolable Fidelity to a negligent Confederate, against an implacable\nEnemy. Here yet appear the visible _Vestigia_ of awful Antiquity, in\nhalf standing Arches, and the yet unlevell'd Walls and Towers of that\nonce celebrated City. I could not but look upon all these with the Eyes\nof Despight, in regard to their Enemy _Hannibal_; with those of Disdain,\nin respect to the uncommon and unaccountable Supineness of its\nConfederates, the _Romans_; but with those of Veneration, as to the\nMemory of a glorious People, who rather than stand reproach'd with a\nBreach of Faith, or the Brand of Cowardice, chose to sacrifice\nthemselves, their Wives, Children, and all that was dear to them, in the\nFlames of their expiring City.\nIn _Molviedro_, as I said before, _Mahoni_ commanded, with eight\nhundred Men, besides Inhabitants; which, together with our having but\nlittle Artillery, induc'd the Officers under the Earl of _Peterborow_\nreasonably enough to imagine and declare, that there could be no visible\nAppearance of surmounting such Difficulties. The Earl, nevertheless,\ninstead of indulging such Despondencies, gave them Hope, that what\nStrength serv'd not to accomplish, Art might possibly obtain. To that\nPurpose he proposed an Interview between himself and _Mahoni_; and\naccordingly sent an Officer with a Trumpet to intimate his Desire. The\nMotion was agreed to; and the Earl having previously station'd his\nTroops to advantage, and his little Artillery at a convenient Distance,\nwith Orders they should appear on a slow March on the Side of a rising\nHill, during the time of Conference, went to the Place appointed; only,\nas had been stipulated, attended with a small Party of Horse. When they\nwere met, the Earl first offer'd all he could to engage _Mahoni_ to the\nInterest of King _Charles_; proposing some Things extravagant enough (as\n_Mahoni_ himself some time after told me) to stagger the Faith of a\nCatholick; but all to little Purpose: _Mahoni_ was inflexible, which\noblig'd the Earl to new Measures.\nWhereupon the Earl frankly told him, that he could not however but\nesteem the Confidence he had put in him; and therefore, to make some\nRetaliation, he was ready to put it in his Power to avoid the\nBarbarities lately executed at _Villa-Real_.\n\"My Relation to you,\" continued the General, \"inclines me to spare a\nTown under your Command. You see how near my Forces are; and can hardly\ndoubt our soon being Masters of the Place: What I would therefore offer\nyou, said the Earl, is a Capitulation, that my Inclination may be held\nin Countenance by my Honour. Barbarities, however justified by Example,\nare my utter Aversion, and against my Nature; and to testify so much,\ntogether with my good Will to your Person, was the main Intent of this\nInterview.\"\nThis Frankness so far prevail'd on _Mahoni_, that he agreed to return an\nAnswer in half an Hour. Accordingly, an Answer was returned by a\n_Spanish_ Officer, and a Capitulation agreed upon; the Earl at the same\ntime endeavouring to bring over that Officer to King _Charles_, on much\nthe same Topicks he us'd with _Mahoni_. But finding this equally\nfruitless, whether it was that he tacitly reproach'd the Officer with a\nWant of Consideration in neglecting to follow the Example of his\nCommander, or what else, he created in that Officer such a Jealousy of\n_Mahoni_, that was afterward very serviceable to him in his further\nDesign.\nTo forward which to a good Issue, the Earl immediately made choice of\ntwo Dragoons, who, upon promise of Promotion, undertook to go as Spies\nto the Duke of _Arcos_, whose Forces lay not far off, on the other Side\na large Plain, which the Earl must unavoidably pass, and which would\ninevitably be attended with almost insuperable Dangers, if there\nattack'd by a Force so much superior. Those Spies, according to\nInstructions, were to discover to the Duke, that they over-heard the\nConference between the Earl and _Mahoni_; and at the same time saw a\nconsiderable Number of Pistoles deliver'd into _Mahoni_'s Hands, large\nPromises passing at that Instant reciprocally: But above all, that the\nEarl had recommended to him the procuring the March of the Duke over the\nPlain between them. The Spies went and deliver'd all according to\nConcert; concluding, before the Duke, that they would ask no Reward, but\nundergo any Punishment, if _Mahoni_ did not very soon send to the Duke a\nRequest to march over the Plain, in order to put the concerted Plot in\nexecution. It was not long after this pretended Discovery before\n_Mahoni_ did send indeed an Officer to the Duke, desiring the March of\nhis Forces over the Plain; but, in reality, to obstruct the Earl's\nPassage, which he knew very well must be that and no other way. However,\nthe Duke being prepossess'd by the Spies, and what those _Spanish_\nOfficers that at first escap'd had before infus'd, took Things in their\nSense; and as soon as _Mahoni_, who was forc'd to make the best of his\nway over the Plain before the Earl of _Peterborow_, arriv'd at his Camp,\nhe was put under Arrest and sent to _Madrid_. The Duke having thus\nimbib'd the Venom, and taken the Alarm, immediately decamp'd in\nConfusion, and took a different Rout than at first he intended; leaving\nthat once formidable Plain open to the Earl, without an Enemy to\nobstruct him. In some little time after he arriv'd at _Madrid_, _Mahoni_\nmade his Innocence appear, and was created a General; while the Duke of\n_Arcos_ was recall'd from his Post of Honour.\nThe Day after we arriv'd at _Valencia_, the Gates of which fine City\nwere set open to us with the highest Demonstrations of Joy. I call'd it\na fine City; but sure it richly deserves a brighter Epithet, since it is\na common Saying among the _Spaniards_, that the Pleasures of _Valencia_\nwould make a _Jew_ forget _Jerusalem_. It is most sweetly situated in a\nvery beautiful Plain, and within half a League of the _Mediterranean_\nSea. It never wants any of the Fragrancies of Nature, and always has\nsomething to delight the most curious Eye. It is famous to a Proverb for\nfine Women; but as infamous, and only in that so, for the Race of\nBravoes, the common Companions of the Ladies of Pleasure in this\nCountry. These Wretches are so Case-hardened, they will commit a Murder\nfor a Dollar, tho' they run their Country for it when they have done.\nNot that other Parts of this Nation are uninfested with this sort of\nAnimals; but here their Numbers are so great, that if a Catalogue was to\nbe taken of those in other Parts of that Country, perhaps nine in ten\nwould be found by Birth to be of this Province.\nBut to proceed, tho' the Citizens, and all Sorts of People, were\nredundant in their various Expressions of Joy, for an Entry so\nsurprizing, and utterly lost to their Expedition, whatever it was to\ntheir Wishes, the Earl had a secret Concern for the Publick, which lay\ngnawing at his Heart, and which yet he was forced to conceal. He knew\nthat he had not four thousand Soldiers in the Place, and not Powder or\nAmmunition for those; nor any Provisions lay'd in for any thing like a\nSiege. On the other Hand, the Enemy without were upwards of seven\nThousand, with a Body of four Thousand more, not fifteen Leagues off, on\ntheir March to join them. Add to this, the Marechal de _Thesse_ was no\nfarther off than _Madrid_, a very few Days' March from _Valencia_; a\nshort Way indeed for the Earl (who, as was said before, was wholly\nunprovided for a Siege, which was reported to be the sole End of the\nMareschal's moving that Way.) But the Earl's never-failing Genius\nresolv'd again to attempt that by Art, which the Strength of his Forces\nutterly disallow'd him. And in the first Place, his Intelligence telling\nhim that sixteen twenty-four Pounders, with Stores and Ammunition\nanswerable for a Siege, were ship'd off for the Enemy's Service at\n_Alicant_, the Earl forthwith lays a Design, and with his usual Success\nintercepts 'em all, supplying that way his own Necessities at the\nExpence of the Enemy.\nThe four thousand Men ready to reinforce the Troops nearer _Valencia_,\nwere the next Point to be undertaken; but _hic labor, hoc opus;_ since\nthe greater Body under the Conde _de las Torres_ (who, with _Mahoni_,\nwas now reinstated in his Post) lay between the Earl and those Troops\nintended to be dispers'd. And what inhaunc'd the Difficulty, the River\n_Xucar_ must be passed in almost the Face of the Enemy. Great\nDisadvantages as these were, they did not discourage the Earl. He\ndetach'd by Night four hundred Horse and eight hundred Foot, who march'd\nwith such hasty Silence, that they surpriz'd that great Body, routed\n'em, and brought into _Valencia_ six hundred Prisoners very safely,\nnotwithstanding they were oblig'd, under the same Night-Covert, to pass\nvery near a Body of three Thousand of the Enemy's Horse. Such a\nprodigious Victory would hardly have gain'd Credit in that City, if the\nPrisoners brought in had not been living Witnesses of the Action as well\nas the Triumph. The Conde _de las Torres_, upon these two military\nRebuffs, drew off to a more convenient Distance, and left the Earl a\nlittle more at ease in his new Quarters.\nHere the Earl of _Peterborow_ made his Residence for some time. He was\nextreamly well belov'd, his affable Behaviour exacted as much from all;\nand he preserv'd such a good Correspondence with the Priests and the\nLadies, that he never fail'd of the most early and best Intelligence, a\nthing by no means to be slighted in the common Course of Life; but much\nmore commendable and necessary in a General, with so small an Army, at\nopen War, and in the Heart of his Enemy's Country.\nThe Earl, by this Means, some small time after, receiving early\nIntelligence that King _Philip_ was actually on his March to\n_Barcelona_, with an Army of upwards of twenty five thousand Men, under\nthe Command of a Mareschal of _France_, began his March towards\n_Catalonia_, with all the Troops that he could gather together, leaving\nin _Valencia_ a small Body of Foot, such as in that Exigence could best\nbe spar'd. The whole Body thus collected made very little more than two\nthousand Foot and six hundred Horse; yet resolutely with these he sets\nout for _Barcelona_: In the Neighbourhood of which, as soon as he\narriv'd, he took care to post himself and his diminutive Army in the\nMountains which inviron that City; where he not only secur'd 'em against\nthe Enemy; but found himself in a Capacity of putting him under\nperpetual Alarms. Nor was the Mareschal, with his great Army, capable of\nreturning the Earl's Compliment of Disturbance; since he himself, every\nsix or eight Hours, put his Troops into such a varying Situation, that\nalways when most arduously fought, he was farthest off from being found.\nIn this Manner the General bitterly harrass'd the Troops of the Enemy;\nand by these Means struck a perpetual Terror into the Besiegers. Nor did\nhe only this way annoy the Enemy; the Precautions he had us'd, and the\nMeasures he had taken in other Places, with a View to prevent their\nReturn to _Madrid_, though the Invidious endeavour'd to bury them in\nOblivion, having equally contributed to the driving of the Mareschal of\n_France_, and his Catholick King, out of the _Spanish_ Dominions.\nBut to go on with the Siege: The Breaches in the Walls of that City,\nduring its Siege by the Earl, had been put into tolerable Repair; but\nthose of _Monjouick_, on the contrary, had been as much neglected.\nHowever, the Garrison made shift to hold out a Battery of twenty-three\nDays, with no less than fifty Pieces of Cannon; when, after a Loss of\nthe Enemy of upwards of three thousand Men (a Moiety of the Army\nemploy'd against it when the Earl took it) they were forc'd to surrender\nat Discretion. And this cannot but merit our Observation, that a Place,\nwhich the _English_ General took in little more than an Hour, and with\ninconsiderable Loss, afforded the Mareschal of _France_ a Resistance of\ntwenty-three Days.\nUpon the taking of Fort _Monjouick_, the Mareschal _de Thess_ gave\nimmediate Orders for Batteries to be rais'd against the Town. Those\nOrders were put in Execution with all Expedition; and at the same time\nhis Army fortify'd themselves with such Entrenchments, as would have\nruin'd the Earl's former little Army to have rais'd, or his present much\nlesser Army to have attempted the forcing them. However, they\nsufficiently demonstrated their Apprehensions of that watchful General,\nwho lay hovering over their Heads upon the Mountains. Their main Effort\nwas to make a Breach between Port St. _Antonio_ and that Breach which\nour Forces had made the Year before; to effect which they took care to\nply them very diligently both from Cannon and Mortars; and in some few\nDays their Application was answer'd with a practicable Breach for a\nStorm. Which however was prudently deferr'd for some time, and that\nthro' fear of the Earl's falling on the Back of them whenever they\nshould attempt it; which, consequently, they were sensible might put\nthem into some dangerous Disorder.\nAnd now it was that the Earl of _Peterborow_ resolv'd to put in practice\nthe Resolution he had some time before concerted within himself. About\nnine or ten Days before the Raising of the Siege, he had receiv'd an\nExpress from Brigadier _Stanhope_ (who was aboard Sir _John Leake's_\nFleet appointed for the Relief of the Place, with the Reinforcements\nfrom _England_) acquainting the Earl, that he had us'd all possible\nEndeavours to prevail on the Admiral to make the best of his way to\n_Barcelona_. But that the Admiral, however, persisted in a positive\nResolution not to attempt the _French_ Fleet before that Place under the\nCount _de Thoulouse_, till the Ships were join'd him which were expected\nfrom _Ireland_, under the Command of Sir _George Bing_. True it was, the\nFleet under Admiral _Leake_ was of equal Strength with that under the\n_French_ Admiral; but jealous of the Informations he had receiv'd, and\ntoo ready to conclude that People in Distress were apt to make\nRepresentations too much in their own Favour; he held himself, in point\nof Discretion, oblig'd not to hazard the Queen's Ships, when a\nReinforcement of both cleaner and larger were under daily Expectation.\nThis unhappy Circumstance (notwithstanding all former glorious\nDeliverances) had almost brought the Earl to the Brink of Despair; and\nto increase it, the Earl every Day receiv'd such Commands from the King\nwithin the Place, as must have sacrificed his few Forces, without the\nleast Probability of succeeding. Those all tended to his forcing his Way\ninto the Town; when, in all human Appearance, not one Man of all that\nshould make the Attempt could have done it, with any Hope or Prospect of\nsurviving. The _French_ were strongly encamp'd at the Foot of the\nMountains, distant two Miles from _Barcelona_; towards the Bottom of\nthose Hills, the Avenues into the Plain were possess'd and fortify'd by\ngreat Detachments from the Enemy's Army. From all which it will be\nevident, that no Attempt could be made without giving the Enemy time to\ndraw together what Body of Foot they pleas'd. Or supposing it feasible,\nunder all these difficult Circumstances, for some of them to have forc'd\ntheir Passage, the Remainder, that should have been so lucky to have\nescap'd their Foot, would have found themselves expos'd in open Field to\na Pursuit of four thousand Horse and Dragoons; and that for two Miles\ntogether; when in case of their inclosing them, the bravest Troops in\nthe World, under such a Situation, would have found it their best way to\nhave surrender'd themselves Prisoners of War.\nNevertheless, when Brigadier _Stanhope_ sent that Express to the Earl,\nwhich I just now mention'd, he assur'd him in the same, that he would\nuse his utmost Diligence, both by Sea and Land, to let him have timely\nNotice of the Conjunction of the Fleets, which was now all they had to\ndepend upon. Adding withal, that if the Earl should at any time receive\na Letter, or Paper, though directed to no Body, and with nothing in it,\nbut a half Sheet of Paper cut in the Middle, he, the Earl, might\ncertainly depend upon it, that the two Fleets were join'd, and making\nthe best of their Way for _Barcelona_. It will easily be imagin'd the\nExpress was to be well paid; and being made sensible that he ran little\nor no Hazard in carrying a Piece of blank Paper, he undertook it, and as\nfortunately arriv'd with it to the Earl, at a Moment when Chagrin and\nDespair might have hurry'd him to some Resolution that might have prov'd\nfatal. The Messenger himself, however, knew nothing of the Joining of\nthe Fleets, or the Meaning of his Message.\nAs soon as the Earl of _Peterborow_ receiv'd this welcome Message from\nBrigadier _Stanhope_, he march'd the very same Night, with his whole\nlittle Body of Forces, to a Town on the Sea-Shore, call'd _Sigeth_. No\nPerson guess'd the Reason of his March, or knew any thing of what the\nIntent of it was. The Officers, as formerly, obey'd without Enquiry; for\nthey were led to it by so many unaccountable Varieties of Success, that\nAffiance became a second Nature, both in Officer and Soldier.\nThe Town of _Sigeth_ was about seven Leagues to the Westward of\n_Barcelona_; where, as soon as the Earl with his Forces arriv'd, he took\ncare to secure all the small Fishing-Boats, _Feluccas_, and _Satt\u00e9es_;\nnay, in a Word, every Machine in which he could transport any of his\nMen: So that in two Days' time he had got together a Number sufficient\nfor the Conveyance of all his Foot.\nBut a Day or two before the Arrival of the _English_ Fleet off _Sigeth_,\nThe Officers of his Troops were under a strange Consternation at a\nResolution their General had taken. Impatient of Delay, and fearful of\nthe Fleets passing by without his Knowledge, the Earl summon'd them\ntogether a little before Night, at which time he discover'd to the whole\nAssembly, that he himself was oblig'd to endeavour to get aboard the\n_English_ Fleet; and that, if possible, before the _French_ Scouts\nshould be able to make any Discovery of their Strength: That finding\nhimself of no further Use on Shore, having already taken the necessary\nPrecautions for their Transportation and Security, they had nothing to\ndo but to pursue his Orders, and make the best of their Way to\n_Barcelona_, in the Vessels which he had provided for them: That they\nmight do this in perfect Security when they saw the _English_ Fleet pass\nby; or if they should pass by in the Night, an Engagement with the\n_French_, which would give them sufficient Notice what they had to do\nfurther.\nThis Declaration, instead of satisfying, made the Officers ten times\nmore curious: But when they saw their General going with a Resolution to\nlie out all Night at Sea, in an open Boat, attended with only one\nOfficer; and understood that he intended to row out in his _Felucca_\nfive or six Leagues distance from the Shore, it is hardly to be\nexpress'd what Amazement and Concern surpriz'd them all. Mr. _Crow_, the\nQueen's Minister, and others, express'd a particular Dislike and\nUneasiness; but all to no purpose, the Earl had resolv'd upon it.\nAccordingly, at Night he put out to Sea in his open _Felucca_, all which\nhe spent five Leagues from Shore, with no other Company than one Captain\nand his Rowers.\nIn the Morning, to the great Satisfaction of all, Officers and others,\nthe Earl came again to Land; and immediately began to put his Men into\nthe several Vessels which lay ready in Port for that Purpose. But at\nNight their Amaze was renew'd, when they found their General ready to\nput in execution his old Resolution, in the same Equipage, and with the\nsame Attendance. Accordingly, he again _felucca'd_ himself; and they saw\nhim no more till they were landed on the Mole in _Barcelona_.\nWhen the Earl of _Peterborow_ first engag'd himself in the Expedition to\n_Spain_, he propos'd to the Queen and her Ministry, that Admiral\n_Shovel_ might be join'd in Commission with him in the Command of the\nFleet. But this Year, when the Fleet came through the Straites, under\nVice-Admiral _Leake_, the Queen had sent a Commission to the Earl of\n_Peterborow_ for the full Command, whenever he thought fit to come\naboard in Person. This it was that made the General endeavour, at all\nHazards, to get aboard the Fleet by Night; for he was apprehensive, and\nthe Sequel prov'd his Apprehensions too well grounded, that _Admiral\nLeake_ would make his Appearance with the whole Body of the Fleet, which\nmade near twice the Number of the Ships of the Enemy; in which Case it\nwas natural to suppose, that the Count _de Tholouse_, as soon as ever\nthe _French_ Scouts should give Notice of our Strength, would cut his\nCables and put out to Sea, to avoid an Engagement. On the other hand,\nthe Earl was very sensible, that if a Part of his Ships had kept\na-stern, that the Superiority might have appear'd on the _French_ Side,\nor rather if they had bore away in the Night towards the Coast of\n_Africa_, and fallen to the Eastward of _Barcelona_ the next Day, a\nBattle had been inevitable, and a Victory equally certain; since the\nEnemy by this Means had been tempted into an Engagement, and their\nRetreat being cut off, and their whole Fleet surrounded with almost\ndouble their Number, there had hardly been left for any of them a\nProbability of Escaping.\nTherefore, when the Earl of _Peterborow_ put to Sea again the second\nEvening, fearful of loosing such a glorious Opportunity, and impatient\nto be aboard to give the necessary Orders, he order'd his Rowers to\nobtain the same Station, in order to discover the _English_ Fleet. And\naccording to his Wishes he did fall in with it; but unfortunately the\nNight was so far advanc'd, that it was impossible for him then to put\nhis Project into practice. Captain _Price_, a Gentleman of _Wales_, who\ncommanded a Third Rate, was the Person he first came aboard of; but how\namaz'd was he to find, in an open Boat at open Sea, the Person who had\nCommission to command the Fleet? So soon as he was enter'd the Ship,\nthe Earl sent the Ship's Pinnace with Letters to Admiral _Leake_, to\nacquaint him with his Orders and Intentions; and to Brigadier _Stanhope_\nwith a Notification of his safe Arrival; but the Darkness of the Night\nprov'd so great an Obstacle, that it was a long time before the Pinnace\ncould reach the Admiral. When Day appear'd, it was astonishing to the\nwhole Fleet to see the _Union_ Flag waving at the Main-top-mast Head. No\nbody could trust his own Eyes, or guess at the Meaning, till better\ncertify'd by the Account of an Event so singular and extraordinary.\nWhen we were about six Leagues Distance from _Barcelona_, the Port we\naim'd at, one of the _French_ Scouts gave the Alarm, who making the\nSignal to another, he communicated it to a Third, and so on, as we\nafterward sorrowfully found, and as the Earl had before apprehended: The\n_French_ Admiral being thus made acquainted with the Force of our Fleet,\nhoisted sail, and made the best of his Way from us, either pursuant to\nOrders, or under the plausible Excuse of a Retreat.\nThis favourable Opportunity thus lost, there remain'd nothing to do but\nto land the Troops with all Expedition; which was executed accordingly:\nThe Regiments, which the Earl of _Peterborow_ embark'd the Night before,\nbeing the first that got into the Town. Let the Reader imagine how\npleasing such a Sight must be to those in _Barcelona_, reduc'd as they\nwere to the last Extremity. In this Condition, to see an Enemy's Fleet\ngive way to another with Reinforcements from _England_, the Sea at the\nsame Instant cover'd with little Vessels crouded with greater Succours;\nwhat was there wanting to compleat the glorious Scene, but what the\nGeneral had projected, a Fight at Sea, under the very Walls of the\ninvested City, and the Ships of the Enemy sinking, or tow'd in by the\nvictorious _English_? But Night, and a few Hours, defeated the latter\nPart of that well intended Landskip.\nKing _Philip_, and the Mareschal of _France_, had not fail'd to push on\nthe Siege with all imaginable Vigour; but this Retreat of the Count _de\nTholouse_, and the News of those Reinforcements, soon chang'd the Scene.\nTheir Courage without was abated proportionably, as theirs within was\nelated. In these Circumstances, a Council of War being call'd, it was\nunanimously resolv'd to raise the Siege. Accordingly, next Morning, the\nfirst of _May_, 1706, while the Sun was under a total Eclypse, in a\nsuitable Hurry and Confusion, they broke up, leaving behind them most of\ntheir Cannon and Mortars, together with vast Quantities of all sorts of\nAmmunition and Provisions, scarce stopping to look back till they had\nleft all but the very Verge of the disputed Dominion behind them.\nKing _Charles_ look'd with new Pleasure upon this lucky Effort of his\nold Deliverers. Captivity is a State no way desirable to Persons however\nbrave, of the most private Station in Life; but for a King, within two\nDays of falling into the Hands of his Rival, to receive so seasonable\nand unexpected a Deliverance, must be supposed, as it really did, to\nopen a Scene to universal Rejoicing among us, too high for any Words to\nexpress, or any Thoughts to imagine, to those that were not present and\nPartakers of it. He forthwith gave Orders for a Medal to be struck\nsuitable to the Occasion; one of which, set round with Diamonds, he\npresented to Sir _John Leake_, the _English_ Admiral. The next Orders\nwere for re-casting all the damag'd brass Cannon which the Enemy had\nleft; upon every one of which was, by order, a Sun eclyps'd, with this\nMotto under it: _Magna parvis obscurantur_.\nI have often wonder'd that I never heard any Body curious enough to\nenquire what could be the Motives to the King of _Spain's_ quitting his\nDominions upon the raising of this Siege; very certain it is that he had\na fine Army, under the Command of a Mareschal of _France_, not very\nconsiderably decreas'd, either by Action or Desertion: But all this\nwould rather increase the Curiosity than abate it. In my Opinion then,\nthough Men might have Curiosity enough, the Question was purposely\nevaded, under an Apprehension that an honest Answer must inevitably give\na higher Idea of the General than their Inclinations led them to. At\nfirst View this may carry the Face of a Paradox; yet if the Reader will\nconsider, that in every Age Virtue has had its Shaders or Maligners, he\nwill himself easily solve it, at the same time that he finds himself\ncompell'd to allow, that those, who found themselves unable to prevent\nhis great Services, were willing, in a more subtil Manner, to endeavour\nat the annulling of them by Silence and Concealment.\nThis will appear more than bare Supposition, if we compare the present\nSituation, as to Strength, of the two contending Powers: The _French_,\nat the Birth of the Siege, consisted of five thousand Horse and\nDragoons, and twenty-five thousand Foot, effective Men. Now grant, that\ntheir kill'd and wounded, together with their Sick in the Hospitals,\nmight amount to five Thousand; yet as their Body of Horse was entire,\nand in the best Condition, the Remaining will appear to be an Army of\ntwenty-five Thousand at least. On the other Side, all the Forces in\n_Barcelona_, even with their Reinforcements, amounted to no more than\nseven thousand Foot and four hundred Horse. Why then, when they rais'd\ntheir Siege, did not they march back into the Heart of _Spain_, with\ntheir so much superior Army? or, at least, towards their Capital? The\nAnswer can be this, and this only; Because the Earl of _Peterborow_ had\ntaken such provident Care to render all secure, that it was thereby\nrender'd next to an Impossibility for them so to do. That General was\nsatisfy'd, that the Capital of _Catalonia_ must, in course, fall into\nthe Hands of the Enemy, unless a superior Fleet remov'd the Count _de\nTholouse_, and threw in timely Succours into the Town: And as that could\nnot depend upon him, but others, he made it his chief Care and assiduous\nEmployment to provide against those Strokes of Fortune to which he found\nhimself again likely to be expos'd, as he often had been; and therefore\nhad he Resource to that Vigilance and Precaution which had often\nretriev'd him, when to others his Circumstances seem'd to be most\ndesperate.\nThe Generality of Mankind, and the _French_ in particular, were of\nopinion that the taking _Barcelona_ would prove a decisive Stroke, and\nput a Period to the War in _Spain_; and yet at that very Instant I was\ninclin'd to believe, that the General flatter'd himself it would be in\nhis Power to give the Enemy sufficient Mortification, even though the\nTown should be oblig'd to submit to King _Philip_. The wise Measures\ntaken induc'd me so to believe, and the Sequel approv'd it; for the Earl\nhad so well expended his Caution, that the Enemy, on the Disappointment,\nfound himself under a Necessity of quitting _Spain_; and the same would\nhave put him under equal Difficulties had he carry'd the Place. The\n_French_ could never have undertaken that Siege without depending on\ntheir Fleet, for their Artillery, Ammunition, and Provisions; since\nthey must be inevitably forc'd to leave behind them the strong Towns of\n_Tortosa_, _Lerida_, and _Taragona_. The Earl, therefore, whose\nperpetual Difficulties seem'd rather to render him more sprightly and\nvigorous, took care himself to examine the whole Country between the\n_Ebro_ and _Barcelona_; and, upon his doing so, was pleasingly, as well\nas sensibly satisfy'd, that it was practicable to render their Return\ninto the Heart of _Spain_ impossible, whether they did or did not\nsucceed in the Siege they were so intent to undertake.\nThere were but three Ways they could attempt it: The first of which was\nby the Sea-side, from _Taragona_ towards _Tortosa_; the most barren, and\nconsequently the most improper Country in the Universe to sustain an\nArmy; and yet to the natural, the Earl had added such artificial\nDifficulties, as render'd it absolutely impossible for an Army to\nsubsist or march that Way.\nThe middle Way lay through a better Country indeed, yet only practicable\nby the Care which had been taken to make the Road so. And even here\nthere was a Necessity of marching along the Side of a Mountain, where by\nvast Labour and Industry, a high Way had been cut for two Miles at least\nout of the main Rock. The Earl therefore, by somewhat of the same\nLabour, soon made it impassable. He employ'd to that End many Thousands\nof the Country People, under a few of his own Officers and Troops, who\ncutting up twenty several Places, made so many Precipices, perpendicular\nalmost as a Wall, which render'd it neither safe, or even to be\nattempted by any single Man in his Wits, much less by an Army. Besides,\na very few Men, from the higher Cliffs of the Mountain, might have\ndestroy'd an Army with the Arms of Nature only, by rolling down large\nStones and Pieces of the Rock upon the Enemy passing below.\nThe last and uppermost Way, lay thro' the hilly Part of _Catalonia_, and\nled to _Lerida_, towards the Head of the _Ebro_, the strongest Place we\nhad in all _Spain_, and which was as well furnish'd with a very good\nGarrison. Along this Road there lay many old Castles and little Towns in\nthe Mountains, naturally strong; all which would not only have afforded\nOpposition, but at the same time had entertain'd an Enemy with variety\nof Difficulties; and especially as the Earl had given Orders and taken\nCare that all Cattle, and every Thing necessary to sustain an Army,\nshould be convey'd into Places of Security, either in the Mountains or\nthereabouts. These three Ways thus precautiously secur'd, what had the\nEarl to apprehend but the Safety of the Arch-Duke; which yet was through\nno Default of his, if in any Danger from the Siege?\nFor I well remember, on Receipt of an Express from the Duke of _Savoy_\n(as he frequenly sent such to enquire after the Proceedings in _Spain_)\nI was shew'd a Letter, wrote about this time by the Earl of _Peterborow_\nto that Prince, which rais'd my Spirits, though then at a very low Ebb.\nIt was too remarkable to be forgot; and the Substance of it was, That\nhis Highness might depend upon it, that he (the Earl) was in much better\nCircumstances than he was thought to be: That the _French_ Officers,\nknowing nothing of the Situation of the Country, would find themselves\nextreamly disappointed, since in case the Siege was rais'd, their Army\nshould be oblig'd to abandon _Spain_: Or in case the Town was taken,\nthey should find themselves shut up in that Corner of _Catalonia_, and\nunder an Impossibility of forcing their Way back, either through\n_Aragon_ or _Valencia_: That by this Means all _Spain_, to the _Ebro_,\nwould be open to the Lord _Galoway_, who might march to _Madrid_, or any\nwhere else, without Opposition. That he had no other Uneasiness or\nConcern upon him, but for the Person of the Arch-Duke, whom he had\nnevertheless earnestly solicited not to remain in the Town on the very\nfirst Appearance of the intended Siege.\n_BARCELONA_ being thus reliev'd, and King _Philip_ forc'd out of\n_Spain_, by these cautious Steps taken by the Earl of _Peterborow_,\nbefore we bring him to _Valencia_, it will be necessary to intimate,\nthat as it always was the Custom of that General to settle, by a Council\nof War, all the Measures to be taken, whenever he was oblig'd for the\nService to leave the Arch-Duke; a Council of War was now accordingly\nheld, where all the General Officers, and those in greatest Employments\nat Court assisted. Here every thing was in the most solemn Manner\nconcerted and resolv'd upon; here Garrisons were settled for all the\nstrong Places, and Governors appointed: But the main Article then agreed\nupon was, that King _Charles_ should immediately begin his Journey to\n_Madrid_, and that by the Way of _Valencia_. The Reason assign'd for it\nwas, because that Kingdom being in his Possession, no Difficulties could\narise which might occasion Delay, if his Majesty took that Rout. It was\nlikewise agreed in the same Council, that the Earl of _Peterborow_\nshould embark all the Foot, not in Garrisons, for their more speedy, as\nwell as more easy Conveyance to _Valencia_. The same Council of War\nagreed, that all the Horse in that Kingdom should be drawn together, the\nbetter to insure the Measures to be taken for the opening and\nfacilitating his Majesty's Progress to _Madrid_.\nAccordingly, after these Resolutions were taken, the Earl of\n_Peterborow_ embarks his Forces and sails for _Valencia_, where he was\ndoubly welcom'd by all Sorts of People upon Account of his safe Arrival,\nand the News he brought along with it. By the Joy they express'd, one\nwould have imagin'd that the General had escap'd the same Danger with\nthe King; and, in truth, had their King arriv'd with him in Person, the\nmost loyal and zealous would have found themselves at a loss how to have\nexpress'd their Satisfaction in a more sensible Manner.\nSoon after his Landing, with his customary Vivacity, he apply'd himself\nto put in execution the Resolutions taken in the Councils of War at\n_Barcelona_; and a little to improve upon them, he rais'd an intire\nRegiment of Dragoons, bought them Horses, provided them Cloaths, Arms,\nand Acoutrements; and in six Weeks time had them ready to take the\nField; a thing though hardly to be parallell'd, is yet scarce worthy to\nbe mentioned among so many nobler Actions of his; yet in regard to\nanother General it may merit Notice, since while he had _Madrid_ in\nPossession near four Months, he neither augmented his Troops, nor lay'd\nup any Magazines; neither sent he all that time any one Express to\nconcert any Measures with the Earl of _Peterborow_, but lay under a\nperfect Inactivity, or which was worse, negotiating that unfortunate\nProject of carrying King _Charles_ to _Madrid_ by the roundabout and\nill-concerted Way of _Aragon_; a Project not only contrary to the solemn\nResolutions of the Council of War; but which in reality was the Root of\nall our succeeding Misfortunes; and that only for the wretched Vanity of\nappearing to have had some Share in bringing the King to his Capital;\nbut how minute a Share it was will be manifest, if it be consider'd\nthat another General had first made the Way easy, by driving the Enemy\nout of _Spain_; and that the French General only stay'd at _Madrid_ till\nthe Return of those Troops which were in a manner driven out of _Spain_.\nAnd yet that Transaction, doughty as it was, took up four most precious\nMonths, which most certainly might have been much better employ'd in\nrendering it impossible for the Enemy to re-enter _Spain_; nor had there\nbeen any Great Difficulty in so doing, but the contrary, if the General\nat _Madrid_ had thought convenient to have join'd the Troops under the\nEarl of _Peterhorow_, and then to have march'd directly towards\n_Pampelona_, or the Frontiers of _France_. To this the Earl of\n_Peterborow_ solicited the King, and those about him; he advis'd,\ndesir'd, and intreated him to lose no time, but to put in Execution\nthose Measures resolv'd on at _Barcelona_. A Council of War in\n_Valencia_ renew'd the same Application; but all to no Purpose, his Rout\nwas order'd him, and that to meet his Majesty on the Frontiers of\n_Arragon_. There, indeed, the Earl did meet the King; and the _French_\nGeneral an Army, which, by Virtue of a decrepid Intelligence, he never\nsaw or heard of till he fled from it to his Camp at _Guadalira_.\nInexpressible with the Confusion in this fatal Camp: The King from\n_Arragon_, The Earl of _Peterborow_ from _Valencia_ arriving in it the\nsame Day, almost the same Hour that the Earl of _Galoway_ enter'd under\na hasty Retreat before the _French_ Army.\nBut to return to Order, which a Zeal of Justice has made me somewhat\nanticipate; the Earl had not been long at _Valencia_ before he gave\nOrders to Major-General _Windham_ to march with all the Forces he had,\nwhich were not above two thousand Men, and lay Siege to _Requina_, a\nTown ten Leagues distant from _Valencia_, and in the Way to _Madrid_.\nThe Town was not very strong, nor very large; but sure the odliest\nfortify'd that ever was. The Houses in a Circle conneftively compos'd\nthe Wall; and the People, who defended the Town, instead of firing from\nHornworks, Counterscarps, and Bastions, fir'd out of the Windows of\ntheir Houses.\nNotwithstanding all which, General _Windham_ found much greater\nOpposition than he at first imagin'd; and therefore finding he should\nwant Ammunition, he sent to the Earl of _Peterborow_ for a Supply; at\nthe same time assigning, as a Reason for it, the unexpected Obstinacy of\nthe Town. So soon as the Earl receiv'd the Letter he sent for me; and\ntold me I must repair to _Requifia_, where they would want an Engineer;\nand that I must be ready next Morning, when he should order a\nLieutenant, with thirty Soldiers and two Matrosses, to guard some Powder\nfor that Service. Accordingly, the next Morning we set out, the\nLieutenant, who was a _Dutchman_, and Commander of the Convoy, being of\nmy Acquaintance.\nWe had reach'd Saint _Jago_, a small Village about midway between\n_Valencia_ and _Requina_, when the Officer, just as he was got without\nthe Town, resolving to take up his Quarters on the Spot, order'd the\nMules to be unloaded. The Powder, which consisted of forty-five Barrels,\nwas pil'd up in a Circle, and cover'd with Oil-cloth, to preserve it\nfrom the Weather; and though we had agreed to sup together at my\nQuarters within the Village, yet being weary and fatigu'd, he order'd\nhis Field-Bed to be put up near the Powder, and so lay down to take a\nshort Nap. I had scarce been at my Quarters an Hour, when a sudden Shock\nattack'd the House so violently, that it threw down Tiles, Windows,\nChimneys and all. It presently came into my Head what was the Occasion;\nand as my Fears suggested so it prov'd: For running to the Door I saw a\nCloud ascending from the Spot I left the Powder pitch'd upon. In haste\nmaking up to which, nothing was to be seen but the bare Circle upon\nwhich it had stood. The Bed was blown quite away, and the poor\nLieutenant all to pieces, several of his Limbs being found separate, and\nat a vast Distance each from the other; and particularly an Arm, with a\nRing on one of the Fingers. The Matrosses were, if possible, in a yet\nworse Condition, that is, as to Manglement and Laceration. All the\nSoldiers who were standing, and any thing near, were struck dead. Only\nsuch as lay sleeping on the Ground escap'd, and of those one assur'd me,\nthat the Blast remov'd him several Foot from his Place of Repose. In\nshort, enquiring into this deplorable Disaster, I had this Account: That\na Pig running out of the Town, the Soldiers endeavour'd to intercept its\nReturn; but driving it upon the Matrosses, one of them, who was jealous\nof its getting back into the Hands of the Soldiers, drew his Pistol to\nshoot it, which was the Source of this miserable Catastrophe. The\nLieutenant carry'd along with him a Bag of Dollars to pay the Soldiers'\nQuarters, of which the People, and the Soldiers that were say'd, found\nmany; but blown to an inconceivable Distance.\nWith those few Soldiers that remain'd alive, I proceeded, according to\nmy Order, to _Requina_; where, when I arriv'd, I gave General _Windham_\nan Account of the Disaster at St. _Jago_. As such it troubled him, and\nnot a little on account of the Disappointment. However, to make the best\nof a bad Market, he gave Orders for the forming of a Mine under an old\nCastle, which was part of the Wall. As it was order'd, so it was begun,\nmore _in Terrorem_, than with any Expectation of Success from it as a\nMine. Nevertheless, I had scarce began to frame the Oven of the Mine,\nwhen those within the Town desir'd to capitulate. This being all we\ncould aim at, under the Miscarriage of our Powder at St. _Jago_ (none\nbeing yet arriv'd to supply that Defect) Articles were readily granted\nthem; pursuant to which, that Part of the Garrison, which was compos'd\nof _Castilian_ Gentry, had Liberty to go wherever they thought best, and\nthe rest were made Prisoners of War. _Requina_ being thus reduc'd to the\nObedience of _Charles_ III a new rais'd Regiment of _Spaniards_ was left\nin Garrison, the Colonel of which was appointed Governor; and our Supply\nof Powder having at last got safe to us, General _Windham_ march'd his\nlittle Army to _Cuenca_.\n_CUENCA_ is a considerable City and a Bishoprick; therefore to pretend\nto sit down before it with such a Company of Forragers, rather than an\nArmy, must be plac'd among the hardy Influences of the Earl of\n_Peterborow_'s auspicious Administration. On the out Part of _Cuenca_\nthere stood an old Castle, from which, upon our Approach, they play'd\nupon us furiously: But as soon as we could bring two Pieces of our\nCannon to bear, we answered their Fire with so good Success, that we\nsoon oblig'd them to retire into the Town. We had rais'd a Battery of\ntwelve Guns against the City, on their Rejection of the Summons sent\nthem to come under the Obedience of King _Charles_; going to which from\nthe old Castle last reduc'd, I receiv'd a Shot on the Toe of one of my\nShoes, which carry'd that Part of the Shoe intirely away, without any\nfurther Damage.\nWhen I came to that Battery we ply'd them warmly (as well as from three\nMortars) for the Space of three Days, their Nights included; but\nobserving, that in one particular House, they were remarkably busy;\nPeople thronging in and out below; and those above firing perpetually\nout of the Windows, I was resolv'd to have one Shot at that Window, and\nmade those Officers about me take Notice of it. True it was, the\nDistance would hardly allow me to hope for Success; yet as the\nExperiment could only be attended with the Expence of a single Ball, I\nmade it. So soon as the Smoak of my own Cannon would permit it, we could\nsee Clouds of Dust issuing from out of the Window, which, together with\nthe People's crouding out of Doors, convinc'd the Officers, whom I had\ndesir'd to take Notice of it, that I had been no bad Marksman.\nUpon this, two Priests were sent out of the Place with Proposals; but\nthey were so triflingly extravagant, that as soon as ever the General\nheard them, he order'd their Answer in a fresh Renewal of the Fire of\nboth Cannon and Mortars. And it happen'd to be with so much Havock and\nExecution, that they were soon taught Reason; and sent back their\nDivines, with much more moderate Demands. After the General had a little\nmodell'd these last, they were accepted; and according to the Articles\nof Capitulation, the City was that very Day surrender'd into our\nPossession. The Earl of _Duncannon's_ Regiment took Guard of all the\nGates; and King _Charles_ was proclaim'd in due Form.\nThe Earl of _Peterborow_, during this Expedition, had left _Valencia_,\nand was arriv'd at my Lord _Galway's_ Camp at _Guadalaxara_; who for the\nConfederates, and King _Charles_ in particular, unfortunately was\norder'd from _Portugal_, to take the Command from a General, who had all\nalong been almost miraculously successful, and by his own great Actions\npay'd the Way for a safe Passage to that his Supplanter.\nYet even in this fatal Place the Earl of _Peterborow_ made some\nProposals, which, had they been embrac'd, might, in all Probability,\nhave secur'd _Madrid_ from falling into the Hands of the Enemy; But, in\nopposition thereto, the Lord _Galway_, and all his _Portugueze_\nOfficers, were for forcing the next Day the Enemy to Battle. The almost\nonly Person against it was the Earl of _Peterborow_; who then and there\ntook the Liberty to evince the Impossibility of coming to an Engagement.\nThis the next Morning too evidently made apparent, when upon the first\nMotion of our Troops towards the River, which they pretended to pass,\nand must pass, before they could engage, they were so warmly saluted\nfrom the Batteries of the Enemy, and their small Shot, that our\nRegiments were forc'd to retire in Confusion to their Camp. By which\nRebuff all heroical Imaginations were at present laid aside, to consider\nhow they might make their Retreat to _Valencia_.\nThe Retreat being at last resolv'd on, and a Multiplicity of Generals\nrendering our bad Circumstances much worse, the Earl of _Peterborow_ met\nwith a fortunate Reprieve, by Solicitations from the Queen, and Desires\ntantamount to Orders, that he would go with the Troops left in\n_Catalonia_ to the Relief of the Duke of _Savoy_. It is hardly to be\ndoubted that that General was glad to withdraw from those Scenes of\nConfusion, which were but too visible to Eyes even less discerning than\nhis. However, he forebore to prepare himself to put her Majesty's\nDesires in execution, as they were not peremptory, till it had been\nresolv'd by the unanimous Consent of a Council of War, where the King,\nall the Generals and Ministers were present. That it was expedient for\nthe Service that the Earl of _Peterborow_, during the Winter Season,\nshould comply with her Majesty's Desires, and go for _Italy_; since he\nmight return before the opening of the Campaign, if it should be\nnecessary. And return indeed he did, before the Campaign open'd, and\nbrought along with him one hundred thousand Pounds from _Genoa_, to the\ngreat Comfort and Support of our Troops, which had neither Money nor\nCredit. But on his Return, that noble Earl found the Lord _Galway_ had\nbeen near as successful against him, as he had been unsuccessful against\nthe Enemy. Thence was the Earl of _Peterborow_ recall'd to make room for\nan unfortunate General, who the next Year suffer'd himself to be decoy'd\ninto that fatal Battle of _Almanza_.\nThe Earl of _Peterborow_, on his leaving _Valencia_, had order'd his\nBaggage to follow him to the Camp at _Guadalaxara_; and it arriv'd in\nour little Camp, so far safe in its way to the greater at _Guadalaxara_.\nI think it consisted of seven loaded Waggons; and General _Windham_ gave\nOrders for a small Guard to escorte it; under which they proceeded on\ntheir Journey: But about eight Leagues from _Cuenca_, at a pretty Town\ncall'd _Huette_, a Party from the Duke of _Berwick's_ Army, with Boughs\nin their Hats, the better to appear what they were not (for the Bough in\nthe Hat is the Badge of the _English_, as white Paper is the Badge of\nthe _French_) came into the Town, crying all the way, _Viva Carlos\nTercero, Viva_. With these Acclamations in their Mouths, they advanc'd\nup to the very Waggons; when attacking the Guards, who had too much\ndeluded themselves with Appearances, they routed 'em, and immediately\nplunder'd the Waggons of all that was valuable, and then march'd off.\nThe Noise of this soon reach'd the Ears of the Earl of _Peterborow_ at\n_Guadalaxara_. When leaving my Lord _Galways_ Camp, pursuant to the\nResolutions of the Council of War, with a Party only of fourscore of\n_Killigrew's_ Dragoons, he met General _Windham's_ little Army within a\nLeague of _Huette_, the Place where his Baggage had been plunder'd. The\nEarl had strong Motives of Suspicion, that the Inhabitants had given\nIntelligence to the Enemy; and, as is very natural, giving way to the\nfirst Dictates of Resentment, he resolv'd to have lay'd the Town in\nAshes: But when he came near it, the Clergy and Magistrates upon their\nKnees, disavowing the Charge, and asserting their Innocence, prevail'd\non the good Nature of that generous Earl, without any great Difficulty,\nto spare the Town, at least not to burn it.\nWe march'd however into the Town, and that Night took up our Quarters\nthere; and the Magistrates, under the Dread of our avenging our selves,\non their part took Care that we were well supplied. But when they were\nmade sensible of the Value of the Loss, which the Earl had sustain'd;\nand that on a moderate Computation it amounted to at least eight\nthousand Pistoles; they voluntarily presented themselves next Morning,\nand of their own accord offer'd to make his Lordship full Satisfaction,\nand that, in their own Phrase, _de Contado, in Ready Money_. The Earl\nwas not displeas'd at their Offer; but generously made Answer, That he\nwas just come from my Lord _Galway's_ Camp at _Chincon_, where he found\nthey were in a likelihood of wanting Bread; and as he imagin'd it might\nbe easier to them to raise the Value in Corn, than in ready Money; if\nthey would send to that Value in Corn to the Lord _Galway's_ Camp, he\nwould be satisfy'd. This they with Joy embrac'd, and immediately\ncomplied with.\nI am apt to think the last Century (and I very much fear the Current\nwill be as deficient) can hardly produce a parallel Instance of\nGenerosity and true public Spiritedness; And the World will be of my\nOpinion, when I have corroborated this with another Passage some Years\nafter. The Commissioners for Stating the Debts due to the Army, meeting\ndaily for that Purpose at their House in _Darby_ Court in _Channel Row_,\nI there mentioned to Mr. _Read_, Gentleman to his Lordship, this very\njust and honourable Claim upon the Government, as Monies advanced for\nthe Use of the Army. Who told me in a little Time after, that he had\nmention'd it to his Lordship, but with no other Effect than to have it\nrejected with a generous Disdain.\nWhile we stayed at _Huette_ there was a little Incident in Life, which\ngave me great Diversion. The Earl, who had always maintain'd a good\nCorrespondence with the fair Sex, hearing from one of the Priests of the\nPlace, That on the Alarm of burning the Town, one of the finest Ladies\nin all _Spain_ had taken Refuge in the Nunnery, was desirous to speak\nwith her.\nThe Nunnery stood upon a small rising Hill within the Town; and to\nobtain the View, the Earl had presently in his Head this Stratagem; he\nsends for me, as Engineer, to have my Advice, how to raise a proper\nFortification upon that Hill out of the Nunnery. I waited upon his\nLordship to the Place, where declaring the Intent of our coming, and\ngiving plausible Reasons for it, the Train took, and immediately the\nLady Abbess, and the fair Lady, came out to make Intercession, That his\nLordship would be pleas'd to lay aside that Design. The divine Oratory\nof one, and the beautiful Charms of the other, prevail'd; so his\nLordship left the Fortification to be the Work of some future\nGeneration.\nFrom _Huette_ the Earl of _Peterborow_ march'd forwards for _Valencia_,\nwith only those fourscore Dragoons, which came with him from _Chincon_,\nleaving General _Windham_ pursuing his own Orders to join his Forces to\nthe Army then under the Command of the Lord _Galway_. But stopping at\n_Campilio_, a little Town in our Way, his Lordship had Information of a\nmost barbarous Fact committed that very Morning by the _Spaniards_, at a\nsmall _Villa_, about a League distant, upon some _English_ Soldiers.\nA Captain of the _English_ Guards (whose Name has slip'd my Memory, tho'\nI well knew the Man) marching in order to join the Battalion of the\nGuards, then under the Command of General _Windham_, with some of his\nSoldiers, that had been in the Hospital, took up his Quarters in that\nlittle _Villa_. But on his marching out of it, next Morning, a Shot in\nthe Back laid that Officer dead upon the Spot: And as it had been before\nconcerted, the _Spaniards_ of the Place at the same Time fell upon the\npoor, weak Soldiers, killing several; not even sparing their Wives. This\nwas but a Prelude to their Barbarity; their savage Cruelty was only\nwhetted, not glutted. They took the surviving few; hurried and dragg'd\nthem up a Hill, a little without the _Villa_. On the Top of this Hill\nthere was a Hole, or Opening, somewhat like the Mouth of one of our\nCoal-Pits, down this they cast several, who, with hideous Shrieks and\nCries, made more hideous by the Ecchoes of the Chasm, there lost their\nLives.\nThis Relation was thus made to the Earl of _Peterborow_, at his Quarters\nat _Campilio_; who immediately gave Orders for to sound to Horse. At\nfirst we were all surpriz'd; but were soon satisfy'd, that it was to\nrevenge, or rather, do Justice, on this barbarous Action.\nAs soon as we enter'd the _Villa_ we found that most of the Inhabitants,\nbut especially the most Guilty, had withdrawn themselves on our\nApproach. We found, however, many of the dead Soldiers Cloaths, which\nhad been convey'd into the Church, and there hid. And a strong\nAccusation being laid against a Person belonging to the Church, and full\nProof made, that he had been singularly Industrious in the Execution of\nthat horrid Piece of Barbarity on the Hill, his Lordship commanded him\nto be hang'd up at the Knocker of the Door.\nAfter this piece of military Justice, we were led up to the fatal Pit or\nHole, down which many had been cast headlong. There we found one poor\nSoldier alive, who, upon his throwing in, had catch'd fast hold of some\nimpending Bushes, and sav'd himself on a little Jutty within the\nConcavity. On hearing us talk _English_ he cry'd out; and Ropes being\nlet down, in a little Time he was drawn up; when he gave us an ample\nDetail of the whole Villany. Among other Particulars, I remember he told\nme of a very narrow Escape he had in that obscure Recess. A poor Woman,\none of the Wives of the Soldiers, who were thrown down after him,\nstruggled, and roared so much, that they could not, without all their\nForce, throw her cleaverly in the Middle; by which means falling near\nthe Side, in her Fall she almost beat him from his Place of Security.\nUpon the Conclusion of this tragical Relation of the Soldier thus saved,\nhis Lordship gave immediate Orders for the Firing of the _Villa_, which\nwas executed with due Severity: After which his Lordship march'd back to\nhis Quarters at _Campilio_; from whence, two Days after, we arriv'd at\n_Valencia_, Where, the first Thing presented to that noble Lord, was all\nthe Papers taken in the Plunder of his Baggage, which the Duke of\n_Berwick_ had generously order'd to be return'd him, without waste or\nopening.\nIt was too manifest, after the Earl's arrival at this City, that the\nAlteration in the Command of the _English_ Forces, which before was only\nreceiv'd as a Rumour, had deeper Grounds for Belief, than many of his\nFriends in that City could have wish'd. His Lordship had gain'd the Love\nof all by a Thousand engaging Condescensions; even his Gallantries being\nno way prejudicial, were not offensive; and though his Lordships did his\nutmost to conceal his Chagrin, the Sympathy of those around him made\nsuch Discoveries upon him, as would have disappointed a double Portion\nof his Caution. They had seen him un-elated under Successes, that were\nso near being unaccountable, that in a Country of less Superstition than\n_Spain_, they might almost have pass'd for miraculous; they knew full\nwell, that nothing, but that Series of Successes had pav'd a Passage for\nthe General that was to supersede him; those only having removed all the\nDifficulties of his March from _Portugal_ to _Madrid_; they knew him the\nolder General; and therefore not knowing, that in the Court he came\nfrom, Intrigue was too often the Soul of Merit, they could not but be\namazed at a Change, which his Lordship was unwilling any body should\nperceive by himself.\nIt was upon this Account, that, as formerly, he treated the Ladies with\nBalls, and to pursue the Dons in their own Humour, order'd a _Tawridore_\nor _Bull-Feast_. In _Spain_ no sort of public Diversions are esteemed\nequal with this. But the Bulls provided at _Valencia_, not being of the\nright Breed, nor ever initiated in the Mysteries, did not acquit\nthemselves at all masterly; and consequently, did not give the\nDiversion, or Satisfaction expected. For which Reason I shall omit\ngiving a Description of this Bull-Feast; and desire my Reader to suspend\nhis Curiosity till I come to some, which, in the _Spanish_ Sense, were\nmuch more entertaining; that is, attended with much greater Hazards and\nDanger.\nBut though I have said, the Gallantries of the General were mostly\npolitical at least very inoffensive; yet there happen'd about this Time,\nand in this Place, a piece of Gallantry, that gave the Earl a vast deal\nof Offence and Vexation; as a Matter, that in its Consequences might\nhave been fatal to the Interest of King _Charles_, if not to the\n_English_ Nation in general; and which I the rather relate, in that it\nmay be of use to young Officers, and others; pointing out to them the\nDanger, not to say Folly, of inadvertent and precipitate Engagements,\nunder unruly Passions.\nI have said before, that _Valencia_ is famous for fine Women. It indeed\nabounds in them; and among those, are great Numbers of Courtezans not\ninferior in Beauty to any. Nevertheless, two of our _English_ Officers,\nnot caring for the common Road, however safe, resolv'd to launch into\nthe deeper Seas, though attended with much greater Danger. Amours, the\ncommon Failing of that fair City, was the Occasion of this Accident, and\ntwo Nuns the Objects. It is customary in that Country for young People\nin an Evening to resort to the Grates of the Nunneries, there to divert\nthemselves, and the Nuns, with a little pleasant and inoffensive\nChit-chat. For though I have heard some relate a World of nauseous\nPassages at such Conversations, I must declare, that I never saw, or\nheard any Thing unseemly; and therefore whenever I have heard any such\nfrom such Fabulists, I never so much wrong'd my Judgment as to afford\nthem Credit.\nOur two Officers were very assiduous at the Grates of a Nunnery in this\nPlace; and having there pitch'd upon two Nuns, prosecuted their Amours\nwith such Vigour, that, in a little time, they had made a very great\nProgress in their Affections, without in the least considering the\nDangers that must attend themselves and the Fair; they had exchang'd\nVows, and prevail'd upon the weaker Vessels to endeavour to get out to\ntheir Lovers. To effect which, soon after, a Plot was lay'd; the Means,\nthe Hour, and every thing agreed upon.\nIt is the Custom of that Nunnery, as of many others, for the Nuns to\ntake their weekly Courses in keeping the Keys of all the Doors. The two\nLove-sick Ladies giving Notice to their Lovers at the Grate, that one of\ntheir Turns was come, the Night and Hour was appointed, which the\nOfficers punctually observing, carry'd off their Prey without either\nDifficulty or Interruption.\nBut next Morning, when the Nuns were missing, what an Uproar was there\nover all the City? The Ladies were both of Quality; and therefore the\nTidings were first carry'd to their Relations. They receiv'd the News\nwith Vows of utmost Vengeance; and, as is usual in that Country, put\nthemselves in Arms for that Purpose. There needed no great canvassing\nfor discovering who were the Aggressors: The Officers had been too\nfrequent, and too publick, in their Addresses, to leave any room for\nquestion. Accordingly, they were complain'd of and sought for, but\nsensible at last of their past Temerity, they endeavour'd, and with a\ngreat deal of Difficulty perfected their Escape.\nLess fortunate were the two fair Nuns; their Lovers, in their utmost\nExigence, had forsaken them; and they, poor Creatures, knew not where to\nfly. Under this sad Dilemma they were taken; and, as in like Offences,\ncondemn'd directly to the Punishment of _immuring_. And what greater\nPunishment is there on Earth than to be confin'd between four narrow\nWalls, only open at the Top; and thence to be half supported with Bread\nand Water, till the Offenders gradually starve to Death?\nThe Earl of _Peterborow_, though highly exasperated at the Proceedings\nof his Officers, in compassion to the unhappy Fair, resolv'd to\ninterpose by all the moderate Means possible. He knew very well, that no\none Thing could so much prejudice the _Spaniard_ against him, as the\ncountenancing such an Action; wherefore he inveigh'd against the\nOfficers, at the same time that he endeavour'd to mitigate in favour of\nthe Ladies: But all was in vain; it was urg'd against those charitable\nIntercessions, that they had broke their Vows; and in that had broke in\nupon the Laws of the Nunnery and Religion; the Consequence of all which\ncould be nothing less than the Punishment appointed to be inflicted. And\nwhich was the hardest of all, the nearest of their Relations most\noppos'd all his generous Mediations; and those, who according to the\ncommon Course of Nature should have thank'd him for his Endeavours to be\ninstrumental in rescuing them from the impending Danger, grew more and\nmore enrag'd, because he oppos'd them in their Design of a cruel\nRevenge.\nNotwithstanding all which the Earl persever'd; and after a deal of\nLabour, first got the Penalty suspended; and, soon after, by the Dint of\na very considerable Sum of Money (a most powerful Argument, which\nprevails in every Country) sav'd the poor Nuns from immuring; and at\nlast, though with great Reluctance, he got them receiv'd again into the\nNunnery. As to the Warlike Lovers, one of them was the Year after slain\nat the Battle of _Almanza_; the other is yet living, being a Brigadier\nin the Army.\nWhile the Earl of _Peterborow_ was here with his little Army of great\nHereticks, neither Priests nor People were so open in their\nsuperstitious Fopperies, as I at other times found them. For which\nReason I will make bold, and by an Antichronism in this Place, a little\nanticipate some Observations that I made some time after the Earl left\nit. And as I have not often committed such a Transgression, I hope it\nmay be the more excusable now, and no way blemish my Memoirs, that I\nbreak in upon the Series of my Journal.\n_VALENCIA_ is a handsome City, and a Bishoprick; and is considerable not\nonly for the Pleasantness of its Situation and beautiful Ladies; but\n(which at some certain Times, and on some Occasions, to them is more\nvaluable than both those put together) for being the Birth-place of\nSaint _Vincent_, the Patron of the Place; and next for its being the\nPlace where _Santo Domingo_, the first Institutor of the _Dominican_\nOrder had his Education. Here, in honour of the last, is a spacious and\nvery splendid Convent of the _Dominicans_. Walking by which, I one Day\nobserv'd over the Gate, a Figure of a man in stone; and near it a Dog\nwith a lighted Torch in his Mouth. The Image I rightly enough took to\nintend that of the Saint; but inquiring of one of the Order, at the\nGate, the Meaning of the Figures near it, he very courteously ask'd me\nto walk in, and then entertain'd me with the following Relation:\nWhen the Mother of _Santo Domingo_, said that Religious, was with Child\nof that future Saint, she had a Dream which very much afflicted her. She\ndreamt that she heard a Dog bark in her Belly; and inquiring (at what\nOracle is not said) the Meaning of her Dream, she was told, _That that\nChild should bark out the Gospel_ (excuse the Bareness of the\nExpression, it may run better in _Spanish_; tho', if I remember right,\n_Erasmus_ gives it in _Latin_ much the same Turn) _which should thence\nshine out like that lighted Torch_. And this is the Reason, that\nwherever you see the Image of that Saint, a Dog and a lighted Torch is\nin the Group.\nHe told me at the same time, that there had been more Popes and\nCardinals of that Order than of any, if not all the other. To confirm\nwhich, he led me into a large Gallery, on each Side whereof he shew'd me\nthe Pictures of all the Popes and Cardinals that had been of that Order;\namong which, I particularly took Notice of that of Cardinal _Howard_,\ngreat Uncle to the present Duke of _Norfolk_. But after many _Encomiums_\nof their Society, with which he interspers'd his Discourse, he added one\nthat I least valu'd it for; That the sole Care and Conduct of the\nInquisition was intrusted with them.\nFinding me attentive, or not so contradictory as the _English_ Humour\ngenerally is, he next brought me into a fair and large Cloister, round\nwhich I took several Turns with him; and, indeed, The Place was too\ndelicious to tire, under a Conversation less pertinent or courteous than\nthat he entertain'd me with. In the Middle of the Cloister was a small\nbut pretty and sweet Grove of Orange and Lemon-trees; these bore Fruit\nripe and green, and Flowers, all together on one Tree; and their Fruit\nwas so very large and beautiful, and their Flowers so transcendently\nodoriferous, that all I had ever seen of the like Kind in _England_\ncould comparatively pass only for Beauty in Epitome, or Nature imitated\nin Wax-work. Many Flocks also of pretty little Birds, with their\nchearful Notes, added not a little to my Delight. In short, in Life I\nnever knew or found three of my Senses at once so exquisitely gratify'd.\nNot far from this, Saint _Vincent_, the Patron, as I said before, of\nthis City, has a Chapel dedicated to him. Once a Year they do him Honour\nin a sumptuous Procession. Then are their Streets all strow'd with\nFlowers, and their Houses set off with their richest Tapestries, every\none strives to excel his Neighbour in distinguishing himself by the\nHonour he pays to that Saint; and he is the best Catholick, as well as\nthe best Citizen, in the Eye of the _religious_, who most exerts himself\non this Occasion.\nThe Procession begins with a Cavalcade of all the Friars of all the\nConvents in and about the City. These walk two and two with folded Arms,\nand Eyes cast down to the very Ground, and with the greatest outward\nAppearance of Humility imaginable; nor, though the Temptation from the\nfine Women that fill'd their Windows, or the rich Tapestries that\nadorn'd the Balconies might be allow'd sufficient to attract, could I\nobserve that any one of them all ever mov'd them upwards.\nAfter the Friars is borne, upon the Shoulders of twenty Men at least, an\nImagine of that Saint of solid Silver, large as the Life; It is plac'd\nin a great Chair of Silver likewise; the Staves that bear him up, and\nupon which they bear him, being of the same Metal. The whole is a most\ncostly and curious Piece of Workmanship, such as my Eyes never before or\nsince beheld.\nThe Magistrates follow the Image and its Supporters, dress'd in their\nrichest Apparel, which is always on this Day, and on this Occasion,\nparticularly sumptuous and distinguishing. Thus is the Image, in the\ngreatest Splendor, borne and accompany'd round that fine City; and at\nlast convey'd to the Place from whence it came: And so concludes that\nannual Ceremony.\nThe _Valencians_, as to the Exteriors of Religion, are the most devout\nof any in _Spain_, though in common Life you find them amorous, gallant,\nand gay, like other People; yet on solemn Occasions there shines\nout-right such a Spirit as proves them the very Bigots of Bigotry: As a\nProof of which Assertion, I will now give some Account of such\nObservations, as I had time to make upon them, during two _Lent_\nSeasons, while I resided there.\nThe Week before the _Lent_ commences, commonly known by the Name of\n_Carnaval Time_, the whole City appears a perfect _Bartholomew_ Fair;\nthe Streets are crouded, and the Houses empty; nor is it possible to\npass along without some Gambol or Jack-pudding Trick offer'd to you;\nInk, Water, and sometimes Ordure, are sure to be hurl'd at your Face or\nCloaths; and if you appear concern'd or angry, they rejoyce at it,\npleas'd the more, the more they displease; for all other Resentment is\nat that time out of Season, though at other times few in the World are\nfuller of Resentment or more captious.\nThe younger Gentry, or Dons, to express their Gallantry, carry about\nthem Egg-shells, fill'd with Orange or other sweet Water, which they\ncast at Ladies in their Coaches, or such other of the fair Sex as they\nhappen to meet in the Streets.\nBut after all, if you would think them extravagant to Day, as much\ntransgressing the Rules of common Civility, and neither regarding\nDecency to one another, nor the Duty they owe to Almighty God; yet when\n_Ash-Wednesday_ comes you will imagine them more unaccountable in their\nConduct, being then as much too excessive in all outwards Indications of\nHumility and Repentance. Here you shall meet one, bare-footed, with a\nCross on his Shoulder, a Burden rather fit for somewhat with four Feet,\nand which his poor Two are ready to sink under, yet the vain Wretch\nbears and sweats, and sweats and bears, in hope of finding Merit in an\nAss's Labour.\nOthers you shall see naked to their Wastes, whipping themselves with\nScourges made for the Purpose, till the Blood follows every Stroke; and\nno Man need be at a Loss to follow them by the very Tracks of Gore they\nshed in this frentick Perambulation. Some, who from the Thickness of\ntheir Hides, or other Impediments, have not Power by their Scourgings to\nfetch Blood of themselves, are follow'd by Surgeons with their Lancets,\nwho at every Turn, make use of them, to evince the Extent of their\nPatience and Zeal by the Smart of their Folly. While others, mingling\nAmour with Devotion, take particular Care to present themselves all\nmacerated before the Windows of their Mistresses; and even in that\nCondition, not satisfy'd with what they have barbarously done to\nthemselves, they have their Operators at hand, to evince their Love by\nthe Number of their Gashes and Wounds; imagining the more Blood they\nlose, the more Love they shew, and the more they shall gain. These are\ngenerally Devoto's of Quality; though the Tenet is universal, that he\nthat is most bloody is most devout.\nAfter these Street-Exercises, these ostentatious Castigations are over,\nthese Self-sacrificers repair to the great Church, the bloodier the\nbetter; there they throw themselves, in a Condition too vile for the Eye\nof a Female, before the Image of the Virgin _Mary_; though I defy all\ntheir Race of Fathers, and their infallible holy Father into the\nBargain, to produce any Authority to fit it for Belief, that she ever\ndelighted in such sanguinary Holocausts.\nDuring the whole Time of _Lent_, you will see in every Street some\nPriest or Frier, upon some Stall or Stool, preaching up Repentance to\nthe People; and with violent Blows on his Breast crying aloud, _Mia\nCulpa, mia maxima Culpa_, till he extract reciprocal Returns from the\nHands of his Auditors on their own Breasts.\nWhen _Good Friday_ is come they entertain it with the most profound Show\nof Reverence and Religion, both in their Streets and in their Churches.\nIn the last, particularly, they have contriv'd about twelve a-Clock\nsuddenly to darken them, so as to render them quite gloomy. This they do\nto intimate the Eclipse of the Sun, which at that time happen'd. And to\nsignify the Rending of the Vail of the Temple, you are struck with a\nstrange artificial Noise at the very same Instant.\nBut when _Easter_ Day appears, you find it in all Respects with them a\nDay of Rejoicing; for though Abstinence from Flesh with them, who at no\ntime eat much, is not so great a Mortification as with those of the same\nPersuasion in other Countries, who eat much more, yet there is a visible\nSatisfaction darts out at their Eyes, which demonstrates their inward\nPleasure in being set free from the Confinement of Mind to the\nDissatisfaction of the Body. Every Person you now meet greets you with a\n_Resurrexit Jesus_; a good Imitation of the primitive Christians, were\nit the real Effect of Devotion. And all Sorts of the best Musick (which\nhere indeed is the best in all _Spain_) proclaim an auspicious\nValediction to the departed Season of superficial Sorrow and stupid\nSuperstition. But enough of this: I proceed to weightier Matters.\nWhile we lay at _Valencia_, under the Vigilance and Care of the\nindefatigable Earl, News was brought that _Alicant_ was besieg'd by\nGeneral _Gorge_ by Land, while a Squadron of Men of War batter'd it from\nthe Sea; from both which the Besiegers play'd their Parts so well, and\nso warmly ply'd them with their Cannon, that an indifferent practicable\nBreach was made in a little time.\n_Mahoni_ commanded in the Place, being again receiv'd into Favour; and\nclear'd as he was of those political Insinuations before intimated, he\nnow seem'd resolv'd to confirm his Innocence by a resolute Defence.\nHowever, perceiving that all Preparations tended towards a Storm, and\nknowing full well the Weakness of the Town, he withdrew his Garrison\ninto the Castle, leaving the Town to the Defence of its own Inhabitants.\nJust as that was doing, the Sailors, not much skill'd in Sieges, nor at\nall times capable of the coolest Consideration, with a Resolution\nnatural to them, storm'd the Walls to the Side of the Sea; where not\nmeeting with much Opposition (for the People of the Town apprehended the\nleast Danger there) they soon got into the Place; and, as soon as got\nin, began to Plunder. This oblig'd the People, for the better Security\nof themselves, to open their Gates, and seek a Refuge under one Enemy,\nin opposition to the Rage of another.\nGeneral _Gorge_, as soon as he enter'd the Town, with a good deal of\nseeming Lenity, put a stop to the Ravages of the Sailors; and ordered\nProclamation to be made throughout the Place, that all the Inhabitants\nshould immediately bring in their best Effects into the great Church for\ntheir better Security. This was by the mistaken Populace, as readily\ncomply'd with; and neither Friend nor Foe at all disputing the Command,\nor questioning the Integrity of the Intention; the Church was presently\ncrouded with Riches of all sorts and sizes. Yet after some time\nremaining there, they were all taken out, and disposed of by those, that\nhad as little Property in 'em, as the Sailors, they were pretended to be\npreserv'd from.\nThe Earl of _Peterborow_ upon the very first News of the Siege had left\n_Valencia_, and taken Shipping for _Alicant_; where he arrived soon\nafter the Surrender of the Town, and that Outcry of the Goods of the\nTownsmen. Upon his Arrival, _Mahoni_, who was block'd up in the Castle,\nand had experienced his indefatigable Diligence, being in want of\nProvisions, and without much hope of Relief, desired to capitulate. The\nEarl granted him honourable Conditions, upon which he delivered up the\nCastle, and _Gorge_ was made Governor.\nUpon his Lordship's taking Ship at _Valencia_, I had an Opportunity of\nmarching with those Dragoons, which escorted him from _Castile_, who had\nreceived Orders to march into _Murcia_. We quarter'd the first Night at\n_Alcira_, a Town that the River _Segra_ almost surrounds, which renders\nit capable of being made a Place of vast Strength, though now of small\nImportance.\nThe next Night we lay at _Xativa_, a Place famous for its steadiness to\nKing _Charles_. General _Basset_, a _Spaniard_, being Governor; it was\nbesieg'd by the Forces of King _Philip_; but after a noble Resistance,\nthe Enemy were beat off, and the Siege raised; for which Effort, it is\nsupposed, that on the Retirement of King _Charles_ out of this Country,\nit was depriv'd of its old Name _Xativa_, and is now called _San\nFelippo_; though to this day the People thereabouts much dissallow by\ntheir Practice, that novel Denomination.\nWe march'd next Morning by _Monteza_; which gives Name to the famous\nTitle of Knights of _Monteza_. It was at the Time that Colonel _O\nGuaza_, an _Irish-man_, was Governor, besieg'd by the People of the\nCountry, in favour of King _Charles_; but very ineffectually, so it\nnever chang'd its Sovereign. That Night we quarter'd at _Fonte dalas\nFiguras_, within one League of _Almanza_; where that fatal and\nunfortunate Battle, which I shall give an Account of in its Place, was\nfought the Year after, under the Lord _Galway_.\nOn our fourth days March we were oblig'd to pass _Villena_, where the\nEnemy had a Garrison. A Party of _Mahoni's_ Dragoons made a part of that\nGarrison, and they were commanded by Major _O. Rairk_ an _Irish_\nOfficer, who always carried the Reputation of a good Soldier, and a\nbrave Gentleman.\nI had all along made it my Observation, that Captain _Matthews_, who\ncommanded those Dragoons, that I march'd with, was a Person of much more\nCourage than Conduct; and he us'd as little Precaution here, though just\nmarching under the Eye of the Enemy, as he had done at other Times. As\nI was become intimately acquainted with him, I rode up to him, and told\nhim the Danger, which, in my Opinion, attended our present March. I\npointed out to him just before _Villena_ a jutting Hill, under which we\nmust unavoidably pass; at the turning whereof, I was apprehensive the\nEnemy might he, and either by Ambuscade or otherwise, surprize us; I\ntherefore intreated we might either wait the coming of our Rear Guard;\nor at least march with a little more leisure and caution. But he taking\nlittle notice of all I said, kept on his round March; seeing which, I\npress'd forward my Mule, which was a very good one, and rid as fast as\nher Legs could carry her, till I had got on the top of the Hill. When I\ncame there, I found both my Expectation, and my Apprehensions answered:\nFor I could very plainly discern three Squadrons of the Enemy ready\ndrawn up, and waiting for Us at the very winding of the Hill.\nHereupon I hastened back to the Captain with the like Speed, and told\nhim the Discovery I had made; who nevertheless kept on his March, and it\nwas with a good deal of Difficulty, that I at last prevail'd on him to\nhalt, till our Rear Guard of twenty Men had got up to us. But those\njoining us, and a new Troop of _Spanish_ Dragoons, who had march'd\ntowards us that Morning, appearing in Sight; our Captain, as if he was\nafraid of their rivalling him in his Glory, at the very turn of the\nHill, rode in a full Gallop, with Sword in Hand, up to the Enemy. They\nstood their Ground, till we were advanc'd within two hundred Yards of\nthem, and then in Confusion endeavoured to retire into the Town.\nThey were obliged to pass over a small Bridge, too small to admit of\nsuch a Company in so much haste; their crouding upon which obstructed\ntheir Retreat, and left all that could not get over, to the Mercy of our\nSwords, which spar'd none. However narrow as the Bridge was, Captain\n_Matthews_ was resolved to venture over after the Enemy; on doing which,\nthe Enemy made a halt, till the People of the Town, and the very Priests\ncame out to their Relief with fire Arms. On so large an Appearance,\nCaptain _Matthews_ thought it not adviseable to make any further\nAdvances; so driving a very great flock of Sheep from under the Walls,\nhe continued his March towards _Elda_. In this Action we lost Captain\n_Topham_, and three Dragoons.\nI remember we were not marched very far from the Place, where this\nRencounter happen'd; when an _Irish_ Dragoon overtook the Captain, with\na civil Message from Major _O Rairk_, desiring that he would not\nentertain a mean Opinion of him for the Defence that was made; since\ncould he have got the _Spaniards_ to have stood their Ground, he should\nhave given him good Reason for a better. The Captain return'd a\ncomplimental Answer, and so march'd on. This Major _O Rairk_, or _O\nRoork_, was the next Year killed at _Alkay_, being much lamented, for he\nwas esteemed both for his Courage and Conduct, one of the best of the\n_Irish_ Officers in the _Spanish_ Service. I was likewise informed that\nhe was descended from one of the ancient Kings of _Ireland_; the Mother\nof the honourable Colonel _Paget_, one of the Grooms of the Bedchamber\nto his present Majesty, was nearly related to this Gallant Gentleman.\nOne remarkable Thing I saw in that Action, which affected and surprised\nme; A _Scotch_ Dragoon, of but a moderate Size, with his large\nbasket-hilted Sword, struck off a _Spaniard's_ Head at one stroke, with\nthe same ease, in appearance, as a Man would do that of a Poppy.\nWhen we came to _Elda_ (a Town much in the Interest of King _Charles_,\nand famous for its fine Situation, and the largest Grapes in _Spain_)\nthe Inhabitants received us in a manner as handsome as it was peculiar;\nall standing at their Doors with lighted Torches; which considering the\nTime we enter'd was far from an unwelcome or disagreeable Sight.\nThe next Day several requested to be the Messengers of the Action at\n_Villena_ to the Earl of _Peterborow_ at _Alicant_; but the Captain\nreturn'd this Answer to all, that in consideration of the Share that I\nmight justly claim in that Day's Transactions, he could not think of\nletting any other Person be the Bearer. So giving me his Letters to the\nEarl, I the next Day deliver'd them to him at _Alicant_. At the\nDelivery, Colonel _Killigrew_ (whose Dragoons they were) being present,\nhe expressed a deal of Satisfaction at the Account, and his Lordship was\npleased at the same time to appoint me sole Engineer of the Castle of\n_Alicant_.\nSoon after which, that successful General embark'd for _Genoa_,\naccording to the Resolutions of the Council of War at _Guadalaxara_, on\na particular Commission from the Queen of _England_, another from\n_Charles_ King of _Spain_, and charged at the same time with a Request\nof the Marquiss _das Minas_, General of the _Portugueze_ Forces, to\nnegotiate Bills for one hundred thousand Pounds for the use of his\nTroops. In all which, tho' he was (as ever) successful; yet may it be\nsaid without a figure, that his Departure, in a good measure, determin'd\nthe Success of the confederate Forces in that Kingdom. True it is, the\nGeneral return'd again with the fortunate, Fruits of those Negotiations;\nbut never to act in his old auspicious Sphere: And therefore, as I am\nnow to take leave of this fortunate General, let me do it with Justice,\nin an Appeal to the World, of the not to be parallel'd Usage (in these\nlatter Ages, at least) that he met with for all his Services; such a\nvast variety of Enterprizes, all successful, and which had set all\n_Europe_ in amaze; Services that had given occasion to such solemn and\npublic Thanksgivings in our Churches, and which had received such very\nremarkable Approbations, both of Sovereign and Parliament; and which had\nbeen represented in so lively a Manner, in a Letter wrote by the King\n_of Spain_, under his own Hand, to the Queen of _England_, and\ncommunicated to both Houses in the Terms following:\nMadam, my Sister,\nI should not have been so long e'er I did my self the Honour to repeat\nthe Assurances of my sincere Respects to you, had I not waited for the\ngood Occasion which I now acquaint you with, that the City of\n_Barcelona_ is surrendered to me by Capitulation. I doubt not but you\nwill receive this great News with intire Satisfaction, as well, because\nthis happy Success is the Effect of your Arms, always glorious, as from\nthe pure Motives of that Bounty and maternal Affection you have for me,\nand for every Thing which may contribute to the Advancement of my\nInterest.\nI must do this Justice to all the Officers and common Soldiers, and\nparticularly to my Lord _Peterborow_, that he has shown in this whole\nExpedition, a Constancy, Bravery, and Conduct, worthy of the Choice that\nyour Majesty has made of him, and that he could no ways give me better\nSatisfaction than he has, by the great Zeal and Application, which he\nhas equally testified for my Interest, and for the Service of my Person.\nI owe the same Justice to Brigadier _Stanhope_, for his great Zeal,\nVigilance, and very wise Conduct, which he has given Proofs of upon all\nOccasions: As also to all your Officers of the Fleet, particularly to\nyour worthy Admiral _Shovel_, assuring your Majesty, that he has\nassisted me in this Expedition, with an inconceivable Readiness and\nApplication, and that no Admiral will be ever better able to render me\ngreater Satisfaction, than he has done. During the Siege of _Barcelona_,\nsome of your Majesty's Ships, with the Assistance of the Troops of the\nCountry, have reduc'd the Town of _Tarragona_, and the officers are made\nPrisoners of War. The Town of _Girone_ has been taken at the same time\nby Surprize, by the Troops of the Country. The Town of _Lerida_ has\nsubmitted, as also that of _Tortosa_ upon the _Ebro_; so that we have\ntaken all the Places of _Catalonia_, except _Roses_. Some Places in\n_Aragon_ near _Sarrogosa_ have declared for me, and the Garrison of the\nCastle of _Denia_ in _Valencia_ have maintained their Post, and repulsed\nthe Enemy; 400 of the Enemies Cavalry have enter'd into our Service, and\na great number of their Infantry have deserted.\nThis, Madam, is the State that your Arms, and the Inclination of the\nPeople have put my Affairs in. It is unnecessary to tell you what stops\nthe Course of these Conquests, it is not the Season of the Year, nor the\nEnemy; these are no Obstacles to your Troops, who desire nothing more\nthan to act under the Conduct that your Majesty has appointed them. The\ntaking of Barcelona, with so small a Number of Troops, is very\nremarkable; and what has been done in this Siege is almost without\nExample; that with seven or eight thousand Men of your Troops, and two\nhundred Miquelets, we should surround and invest a Place, that thirty\nthousand _French_ could not block up.\nAfter a March of thirteen Hours, the Troops climb'd up the Rocks and\nPrecipices, to attack a Fortification stronger than the Place, which the\nEarl of _Peterborow_ has sent you a Plan of; two Generals, with the\nGrenadiers, attack'd it Sword in Hand. In which Action the Prince of\n_Hesse_ died gloriously, after so many brave Actions: I hope his Brother\nand his Family will always have your Majesty's Protection. With eight\nhundred Men they forc'd the cover'd Way, and all the Intrenchments and\nWorks, one after another, till they came to the last Work which\nsurrounded it, against five hundred Men of regular Troops which defended\nthe Place, and a Reinforcement they had receiv'd; and three Days\nafterwards we became Masters of the Place. We afterwards attack'd the\nTown on the Side of the Castle. We landed again our Cannon, and the\nother Artillery, with inconceivable Trouble, and form'd two Camps,\ndistant from each other three Leagues, against a Garrison almost as\nnumerous as our Army, whose Cavalry was double the Strength of ours. The\nfirst Camp was so well intrench'd, that 'twas defended by two thousand\nMen and the Dragoons; whilst we attack'd the Town with the rest of our\nTroops. The Breach being made, we prepar'd to make a general Assault\nwith all the Army. These are Circumstances, Madam, which distinguish\nthis Action, perhaps, from all others.\nHere has happen'd an unforeseen Accident. The Cruelty of the pretended\nViceroy, and the Report spread abroad, that he would take away the\nPrisoners, contrary to the Capitulation, provok'd the Burghers, and some\nof the Country People, to take up Arms against the Garrison, whilst they\nwere busy in packing up their Baggage, which was to be sent away the\nnext Day; so that every thing tended to Slaughter: But your Majesty's\nTroops, entering into Town with the Earl of _Peterborow_, instead of\nseeking Pillage, a Practice common upon such Occasions, appeas'd the\nTumult, and have say'd the Town, and even the Lives of their Enemies,\nwith a Discipline and Generosity without Example.\nWhat remains is, that I return you my most hearty Thanks for sending so\ngreat a Fleet, and such good and valiant Troops to my Assistance. After\nso happy a Beginning, I have thought it proper, according to the\nSentiments of your Generals and Admirals, to support, by my Presence,\nthe Conquests that we have made; and to shew my Subjects, so\naffectionate to my Person, that I cannot abandon them. I receive such\nsuccours from your Majesty, and from your generous Nation, that I am\nloaded with your Bounties; and am not a little concern'd to think that\nthe Support of my Interest should cause so great an Expence. But, Madam,\nI sacrifice my Person, and my Subjects in Catalonia expose also their\nLives and Fortunes, upon the Assurances they have of your Majesty's\ngenerous Protection. Your Majesty and your Council knows better than we\ndo, what is necessary for our Conservation. We shall then expect your\nMajesty's Succours, with an entire Confidence in your Bounty and Wisdom.\nA further Force is necessary: We give no small Diversion to _France_,\nand without doubt they will make their utmost Efforts against me as soon\nas possible; but I am satisfy'd, that the same Efforts will be made by\nmy Allies to defend me. Your Goodness, Madam, inclines you, and your\nPower enables you, to support those that the Tyranny of France would\noppress. All that I can insinuate to your Wisdom, and that of your\nAllies, is, that the Forces employ'd in this Country will not be\nunprofitable to the public Good, but will be under an Obligation and\nNecessity to act with the utmost Vigour against the Enemy. I am,\nWith an inviolable Affection,\nRespect, and most\nSincere Acknowledgment,\nMadam, my Sister,\nYour most affectionate\nBrother,\nCHARLES.\nAnd yet, after all, was this noble General not only recall'd, the\nCommand of the Fleet taken from him, and that of the Army given to my\nLord _Galway_, without Assignment of Cause; but all Manner of Falsities\nwere industriously spread abroad, not only to dimish, if they could, his\nReputation, but to bring him under Accusations of a malevolent Nature. I\ncan hardly imagine it necessary here to take Notice, that afterward he\ndisprov'd all those idle Calumnies and ill-invented Rumours; or to\nmention what Compliments he receiv'd, in the most solemn Manner, from\nhis Country, upon a full Examination and thorough canvassing of his\nActions in the House of Lords. But this is too notorious to be omitted,\nThat all Officers coming from _Spain_ were purposely intercepted in\ntheir Way to _London_, and craftily examin'd upon all the idle Stories\nwhich had pass'd tending to lessen his Character: And when any Officers\nhad asserted the Falsity of those Inventions (as they all did, except a\nmilitary Sweetner or two) and that there was no Possibility of laying\nany thing amiss to the Charge of that General--they were told, that they\nought to be careful however, not to speak advantagiously of that Lord's\nConduct, unless they were willing to fall Martyrs in his Cause--A Thing\nscarce to be credited even in a popish Country. But _Scipio_ was\naccus'd--tho' (as my Author finely observes) by Wretches only known to\nPosterity by that stupid Accusation.\nAs a mournful Valediction, before I enter upon any new Scene, the Reader\nwill pardon this melancholy Expostulation. How mortifying must it be to\nan _Englishman_, after he has found himself solac'd with a Relation of\nso many surprising Successes of her Majesty's Arms, under the Earl of\n_Peterborow_; Successes that have lay'd before our Eyes Provinces and\nKingdoms reduc'd, and Towns and Fortresses taken and reliev'd; where we\nhave seen a continu'd Series of happy Events, the Fruits of Conduct and\nVigilance; and Caution and Foresight preventing Dangers that were held,\nat first View, certain and unsurmountable: to change this glorious\nLandskip, I say, for Scenes every way different, even while our Troops\nwere as numerous as the Enemy, and better provided, yet always baffled\nand beaten, and flying before the Enemy till fatally ruin'd in the\nBattle of _Almanza_: How mortifying must this be to any Lover of his\nCountry! But I proceed to my Memoirs.\n_ALICANT_ is a Town of the greatest Trade of any in the Kingdom of\n_Valencia_, having a strong Castle, being situated on a high Hill, which\ncommands both Town and Harbour. In this Place I resided a whole Year;\nbut it was soon after my first Arrival, that Major _Collier_ (who was\nshot in the Back at _Barcelona_, as I have related in the Siege of that\nPlace) hearing of me, sought me out at my Quarters; and, after a\nparticular Enquiry into the Success of that difficult Task that he left\nme upon, and my answering all his Questions to satisfaction (all which\nhe receiv'd with evident Pleasure) he threw down a Purse of Pistoles\nupon the Table; which I refusing, he told me, in a most handsome Manner,\nhis Friendship was not to be preserved but by my accepting it.\nAfter I had made some very necessary Repairs, I pursu'd the Orders I had\nreceiv'd from the Earl of _Peterborow_, to go upon the erecting a new\nBattery between the Castle and the Town. This was a Task attended with\nDifficulties, neither few in Number, nor small in Consequence; for it\nwas to be rais'd upon a great Declivity, which must render the Work both\nlaborious and precarious. However, I had the good Fortune to effect it\nmuch sooner than was expected; and it was call'd _Gorge's_ Battery, from\nthe Name of the Governor then commanding; who, out of an uncommon\nProfusion of Generosity, wetted that Piece of Gossiping with a\ndistinguishing Bowl of Punch. Brigadier _Bougard_, when he saw this Work\nsome time after, was pleas'd to honour it with a singular Admiration and\nApprobation, for its Compleatness, notwithstanding its Difficulties.\nThis Work, and the Siege of _Cartagena_, then in our Possession, by the\nDuke of _Berwick_, brought the Lord _Galway_ down to this place.\n_Cartagena_ is of so little Distance from _Alicant_, that we could\neasily hear the Cannon playing against, and from it, in our Castle,\nwhere I then was. And I remember my Lord _Galway_, on the fourth Day of\nthe Siege, sending to know if I could make any useful Observations, as\nto the Success of it; I return'd, that I was of Opinion the Town was\nsurrender'd, from the sudden Cessation of the Cannon, which, by our News\nnext Day from the Place, prov'd to be fact. _Cartagena_ is a small\nSea-Port Town in _Murcia_; but has so good an Harbour, that when the\nfamous Admiral _Doria_ was ask'd, which were the three best Havens in\nthe _Mediterranean_, he readily return'd, _June, July_, and _Cartagena_.\nUpon the Surrender of this Place, a Detachment of Foot was sent by the\nGovernor, with some Dragoons, to _Elsha_; but it being a Place of very\nlittle Strength they were soon made Prisoners of War.\nThe Siege of _Cartagena_ being over, the Lord _Galway_ return'd to his\nCamp; and the Lord _Duncannon_ dying in _Alicant_, the first Guns that\nwere fir'd from _Gorge's_ Battery, were the Minute-Guns for his Funeral.\nHis Regiment had been given to the Lord _Montandre_, who lost it before\nhe had Possession, by an Action as odd as it was scandalous.\nThat Regiment had received Orders to march to the Lord _Galway's_ Camp,\nunder the Command of their Lieutenant-Colonel _Bateman_, a Person before\nreputedly a good Officer, tho' his Conduct here gave People, not\ninvidious, too much Reason to call it in Question. On his March, he was\nso very careless and negligent (though he knew himself in a Country\nsurrounded with Enemies, and that he was to march through a Wood, where\nthey every Day made their Appearance in great Numbers) that his Soldiers\nmarch'd with their Muskets slung at their Backs, and went one after\nanother (as necessity had forc'd us to do in _Scotland_) himself at the\nHead of 'em, in his Chaise, riding a considerable way before.\nIt happened there was a Captain, with threescore Dragoons, detach'd from\nthe Duke of _Berwick's_ Army, with a Design to intercept some Cash, that\nwas order'd to be sent to Lord _Galway's_ Army from _Alicant_. This\nDetachment, missing of that intended Prize, was returning very\ndisconsolately, _Re infecta_; when their Captain, observing that\ncareless and disorderly March of the _English_, resolv'd, boldly enough,\nto attack them in the Wood. To that Purpose he secreted his little Party\nbehind a great Barn; and so soon as they were half passed by, he falls\nupon 'em in the Center with his Dragoons, cutting and slashing at such a\nviolent Rate, that he soon dispersed the whole Regiment, leaving many\ndead and wounded upon the Spot. The three Colours were taken; and the\ngallant Lieutenant-Colonel taken out of his Chaise, and carried away\nPrisoner with many others; only one Officer who was an Ensign, and so\nbold as to do his Duty, was kill'd.\nThe Lieutenant who commanded the Granadiers, received the Alarm time\nenough to draw his Men into a House in their way; where he bravely\ndefended himself for a long Time; but being killed, the rest immediately\nsurrender'd. The Account of this Action I had from the Commander of the\nEnemy's Party himself, some Time after, while I was a Prisoner. And\nCaptain _Mahoni_, who was present when the News was brought, that a few\n_Spanish_ Dragoons had defeated an _English_ Regiment, which was this\nunder _Bateman_, protested to me, that the Duke of _Berwick_ turn'd pale\nat the Relation; and when they offer'd to bring the Colours before him,\nhe would not so much as see them. A little before the Duke went to\nSupper, _Bateman_ himself was brought to him, but the Duke turn'd away\nfrom him without any further Notice than coldly saying, that _he thought\nhe was very strangely taken_. The Wags of the Army made a thorough jest\nof him, and said his military Conduct was of a piece with his Oeconomy,\nhaving two Days before this March, sent his young handsome Wife into\n_England_, under the Guardship of the young Chaplain of the Regiment.\n_April_ 15. In the Year 1707, being _Easter Monday_, we had in the\nMorning a flying Report in _Alicant_, that there had been the Day before\na Battle at _Almanza_, between the Army under the Command of the Duke of\n_Berwick_, and that of the _English_, under Lord _Galway_, in which the\nlatter had suffer'd an entire Defeat. We at first gave no great Credit\nto it: But, alas, we were too soon woefully convinced of the Truth of\nit, by Numbers that came flying to us from the conquering Enemy. Then\nindeed we were satisfied of Truths, too difficult before to be credited.\nBut as I was not present in that calamitous Battle, I shall relate it,\nas I received it from an Officer then in the Duke's Army.\nTo bring the Lord _Galway_ to a Battle, in a Place most commodious for\nhis purpose, the Duke made use of this Stratagem: He ordered two\n_Irishmen_, both Officers, to make their way over to the Enemy as\nDeserters; putting this Story in their Mouths, that the Duke of\n_Orleans_ was in a full March to join the Duke of _Berwick_ with twelve\nthousand Men; that this would be done in two Days, and that then they\nwould find out the Lord _Galway_, and force him to Fight, where-ever\nthey found him.\nLord _Galway_, who at this Time lay before _Villena_, receiving this\nIntelligence from those well instructed Deserters, immediately rais'd\nthe Siege; with a Resolution, by a hasty March, to force the Enemy to\nBattle, before the Duke of _Orleans_ should be able to join the Duke of\n_Berwick_. To effect this, after a hard March of three long _Spanish_\nLeagues in the heat of the Day; he appears a little after Noon in the\nface of the Enemy with his fatigu'd Forces. Glad and rejoyc'd at the\nSight, for he found his Plot had taken; _Berwick_, the better to receive\nhim, draws up his Army in a half Moon, placing at a pretty good Advance\nthree Regiments to make up the Centre, with express Order, nevertheless,\nto retreat at the very first Charge. All which was punctually observ'd,\nand had its desired Effect; For the three Regiments, at the first Attack\ngave way, and seemingly fled towards their Camp; the _English_, after\ntheir customary Manner, pursuing them with Shouts and Hollowings. As\nsoon as the Duke of _Berwick_ perceiv'd his Trap had taken, he order'd\nhis right and left Wings to close; by which Means, he at once cut off\nfrom the rest of their Army all those who had so eagerly pursu'd the\nimaginary Runaways. In short, the Rout was total, and the most fatal\nBlow that ever the _English_ receiv'd during the whole War with _Spain_.\nNor, as it is thought, with a great probability of Reason, had those\nTroops that made their Retreat to the Top of the Hills, under Major\nGeneral _Shrimpton_, met with any better Fate than those on the Plain,\nhad the _Spaniards_ had any other General in the Command than the Duke\nof _Berwick_; whose native Sympathy gave a check to the Ardour of a\nvictorious Enemy. And this was the sense of the _Spaniards_ themselves\nafter the Battle. Verifying herein that noble Maxim, _That Victory to\ngenerous Minds is only an Inducement to Moderation_.\nThe Day after this fatal Battle (which gave occasion to a _Spanish_\npiece of Wit, _that the English General had routed the French_) the Duke\nof _Orleans_ did arrive indeed in the Camp, but with an Army of only\nfourteen Attendants.\nThe fatal Effects of this Battle were soon made visible, and to none\nmore than those in _Alicant_. The Enemy grew every Day more and more\ntroublesome; visiting us in Parties more boldly than before: and often\nhovering about us so very near, that with our Cannon we could hardly\nteach 'em to keep a proper Distance. _Gorge_ the Governor of _Alicant_\nbeing recall'd into _England_, Major General _Richards_ was by King\n_Charles_ appointed Governor in his Place. He was a Roman Catholick, and\nvery much belov'd by the Natives on that Account; tho' to give him his\ndue, he behaved himself extremely well in all other Respects. It was in\nhis Time, that a Design was laid of surprising _Guardamere_, a small\nSea-port Town, in _Murcia_: But the military Bishop (for he was in a\nliteral Sense excellent _tam Marte, quam Mercurio_, among his many\nothers Exploits), by a timely Expedition, prevented that.\nGovernor _Richards_, my Post being always in the Castle, had sent to\ndesire me to give notice whenever I saw any Parties of the Enemy moving.\nPursuant to this Order, discovering one Morning a considerable body of\nHorse towards _Elsha_, I went down into the Town, and told the Governor\nwhat I had seen; and without any delay he gave his Orders, that a\nCaptain with threescore Men should attend me to an old House about a\nMile distance. As soon as we had got into it, I set about barricading\nall the open Places, and Avenues, and put my Men in a Posture ready to\nreceive an Enemy, as soon as he should appear; upon which the Captain,\nas a feint, ordered a few of his men to shew themselves on a rising\nGround just before the House. But we had like to have caught a Tartar:\nFor tho' the Enemy took the Train I had laid, and on sight of our small\nBody on the Hill, sent a Party from their greater Body to intercept\nthem, before they could reach the Town; yet the Sequel prov'd, we had\nmistaken their Number and it soon appeared to be much greater than we at\nfirst imagin'd. However our Out-scouts, as I may call 'em, got safe into\nthe House; and on the Appearance of the Party, we let fly a full Volly,\nwhich laid dead on the Spot three Men and one Horse. Hereupon the whole\nBody made up to the House, but stood a-loof upon the Hill without reach\nof our Shot. We soon saw our Danger from the number of the Enemy: And\nwell for us it was, that the watchful Governor had taken notice of it,\nas well as we in the House. For observing us surrounded with the Enemy,\nand by a Power so much superior, he marched himself with a good part of\nthe Garrison to our Relief. The Enemy stood a little time as if they\nwould receive 'em; but upon second thoughts they retir'd; and to our no\nlittle Joy left us at Liberty to come out of the House and join the\nGarrison.\nScarce a Day pass'd but we had some visits of the like kind attended\nsometimes with Rencounters of this Nature; in so much that there was\nhardly any stirring out in Safety for small Parties, tho' never so\nlittle away. There was within a little Mile of the Town, an old\nVineyard, environed with a loose stone Wall: An Officer and I made an\nAgreement to ride thither for an Airing. We did so, and after a little\nriding, it came into my Head to put a Fright upon the Officer. And very\nlucky for us both was that unlucky Thought of mine; pretending to see a\nParty of the Enemy make up to us, I gave him the Alarm, set Spurs to my\nHorse, and rid as fast as Legs could carry me. The Officer no way bated\nof his Speed; and we had scarce got out of the Vineyard but my Jest\nprov'd Earnest, twelve of the Enemy's Horse pursuing us to the very\nGates of the Town. Nor could I ever after prevail upon my\nFellow-Traveller to believe that he ow'd his Escape to Merriment more\nthan Speed.\nSoon after my Charge, as to the Fortifications, was pretty well over, I\nobtain'd Leave of the Governor to be absent for a Fortnight, upon some\nAffairs of my own at _Valencia_. On my Return from whence, at a Town\ncall'd _Venissa_, I met two Officers of an _English_ Regiment, going to\nthe Place from whence I last came. They told me, after common\nCongratulations, that they had left Major _Boyd_, at a little Place\ncall'd _Capel_, hiring another Mule, that he rode on thither having\ntir'd and fail'd him; desiring withal, that if I met him, I would let\nhim know that they would stay for him at that Place. I had another\nGentleman in my Company, and we had travell'd on not above a League\nfurther, whence, at a little Distance, we were both surpriz'd with a\nSight that seem'd to have set all Art at defiance, and was too odd for\nany thing in Nature. It appear'd all in red, and to move; but so very\nslowly, that if we had not made more way to that than it did to us, we\nshould have made it a Day's Journey before we met it. My Companion could\nas little tell what to make of it as I; and, indeed, the nearer it came\nthe more monstrous it seem'd, having nothing of the Tokens of Man,\neither Walking, Riding, or in any Posture whatever. At last, coming up\nwith this strange Figure of a Creature (for now we found it was\ncertainly such) what, or rather who, should it prove to be, but Major\n_Boyd_? He was a Person of himself far from one of the least Proportion,\nand mounted on a poor little Ass, with all his warlike Accoutrements\nupon it, you will allow must make a Figure almost as odd as one of the\nold _Centaurs_. The Morocco Saddle that cover'd the Ass was of Burden\nenough for the Beast without its Master; and the additional Holsters\nand Pistols made it much more weighty. Nevertheless, a Curb Bridle of\nthe largest Size cover'd his little Head, and a long red Cloak, hanging\ndown to the Ground, cover'd Jackboots, Ass, Master and all. In short, my\nCompanion and I, after we could specifically declare it to be a Man,\nagreed we never saw a Figure so comical in all our Lives. When we had\nmerrily greeted our Major (for a _Cynick_ could not have forborn\nLaughter) He excus'd all as well as he could, by saying he could get no\nother Beast. After which, delivering our Message, and condoling with him\nfor his present Mounting, and wishing him better at his next Quarters,\nhe settled into his old Pace, and we into ours, and parted.\nWe lay that Night at _Altea_, famous for its Bay for Ships to water at.\nIt stands on a high Hill; and is adorn'd, not defended, with an old\nFort.\nThence we came to _Alicant_, where having now been a whole Year, and\nhaving effected what was held necessary, I once more prevail'd upon the\nGovernor to permit me to take another Journey. The Lord _Galway_ lay at\n_Tarraga_, while _Lerida_ lay under the Siege of the Duke of _Orleans_;\nand having some Grounds of Expectation given me, while he was at\n_Alicant_, I resolv'd at least to demonstrate I was still living. The\nGovernor favour'd me with Letters, not at all to my Disadvantage; so\ntaking Ship for _Barcelona_, just at our putting into the Harbour, we\nmet with the _English_ Fleet, on its Return from the Expedition to\n_Toulon_ under Sir _Cloudsly Shovel_.\nI stay'd but very few Days at _Barcelona_, and then proceeded on my\nintended Journey to _Tarraga_; arriving at which Place I deliver'd my\nPacket to the Lord _Galway_, who receiv'd me with very great Civility;\nand to double it, acquainted me at the same time, that the Governor of\n_Alicant_ had wrote very much in my Favour: But though it was a known\nPart of that noble Lord's Character, that the first Impression was\ngenerally strongest, I had Reason soon after to close with another\nSaying, equally true, _That general Rules always admit of some\nException_. While I was here we had News of the taking of the Town of\n_Lerida_; the Prince of _Hesse_ (Brother to that brave Prince who lost\nhis Life before _Monjouick_) retiring into the Castle with the\nGarrison, which he bravely defended a long time after.\nWhen I was thus attending my Lord _Galway_ at _Tarraga_, he receiv'd\nIntelligence that the Enemy had a Design to lay Siege to _Denia_;\nwhereupon he gave me Orders to repair there as Engineer. After I had\nreceiv'd my Orders, and taken Leave of his Lordship, I set out,\nresolving, since it was left to my Choice, to go by way of _Barcelona_,\nand there take Shipping for the Place of my Station; by which I propos'd\nto save more time than would allow me a full Opportunity of visiting\n_Montserat_, a Place I had heard much Talk of, which had fill'd me with\na longing Desire to see it. To say Truth, I had been told such\nextravagant Things of the Place, that I could hardly impute more than\none half of it to any thing but _Spanish_ Rhodomontado's, the Vice of\nextravagant Exaggeration being too natural to that Nation.\n_MONTSERAT_ is a rising lofty Hill, in the very Middle of a spacious\nPlain, in the Principality of _Catalonia_, about seven Leagues distant\nfrom _Barcelona_ to the Westward, somewhat inclining to the North. At\nthe very first Sight, its Oddness of Figure promises something\nextraordinary; and given at that Distance the Prospect makes somewhat of\na grand Appearance: Hundreds of aspiring Pyramids presenting themselves\nall at once to the Eye, look, if I may be allowed so to speak, like a\nlittle petrify'd Forrest; or, rather, like the awful Ruins of some\ncapacious Structure, the Labour of venerable Antiquity. The nearer you\napproach the more it affects; but till you are very near you can hardly\nform in your Mind any thing like what you find it when you come close to\nit. Till just upon it you would imagine it a perfect Hill of Steeples;\nbut so intermingled with Trees of Magnitude, as well as Beauty, that\nyour Admiration can never be tir'd, or your Curiosity surfeited. Such I\nfound it on my Approach; yet much less than what I found it, was so soon\nas I enter'd upon the very Premisses.\nNow that stupendious Cluster of Pyramids affected me in a Manner\ndifferent to all before; and I found it so finely group'd with verdant\nGroves, and here and there interspers'd with aspiring, but solitary\nTrees, that it no way lessened my Admiration, while it increased my\nDelight. Those Trees, which I call solitary, as standing single, in\nopposition to the numerous Groves, which are close and thick (as I\nobserv'd when I ascended to take a View of the several Cells) rise\ngenerally out of the very Clefts of the main Rock, with nothing, to\nAppearance, but a Soil or bed of Stone for their Nurture. But though\nsome few Naturalists may assert, that the Nitre in the Stone may afford\na due Proportion of Nourishment to Trees and Vegetables; these, in my\nOpinion, were all too beautiful, their Bark, Leaf, and Flowers, carry'd\ntoo fair a Face of Health, to allow them even to be the Foster-children\nof Rock and Stone only.\nUpon this Hill, or if you please, Grove of Rocks, are thirteen Hermits\nCells, the last of which lies near the very Summit. You gradually\nadvance to every one, from Bottom to Top, by a winding Ascent; which to\ndo would otherwise be Impossible, by reason of the Steepness; but though\nthere is a winding Ascent to every Cell, as I have said, I would yet set\nat defiance the most observant, if a Stranger, to find it feasible to\nvisit them in order, if not precaution'd to follow the poor _Borigo_, or\nold Ass, that with Paniers hanging on each Side of him, mounts\nregularly, and daily, up to every particular Cell. The Manner is as\nfollows:\nIn the Paniers there are thirteen Partitions; one for every Cell. At the\nHour appointed, the Servant having plac'd the Paniers on his Back, the\nAss, of himself, goes to the Door of the Convent at the very Foot of the\nHill, where every Partition is supply'd with their several Allowances of\nVictuals and Wine. Which, as soon as he has receiv'd, without any\nfurther Attendance, or any Guide, he mounts and takes the Cells\ngradually, in their due Course, till he reaches the very uppermost.\nWhere having discharg'd his Duty, he descends the same Way, lighter by\nthe Load he carry'd up. This the poor stupid Drudge fails not to do, Day\nand Night, at the stated Hours.\nTwo Gentlemen, who had join'd me on the Road, alike led by Curiosity,\nseem'd alike delighted, that the End of it was so well answer'd. I could\neasily discover in their Countenances a Satisfaction, which, if it did\nnot give a Sanction to my own, much confirm'd it, while they seem'd to\nallow with me that these reverend Solitaries were truly happy Men; I\nthen thought them such; and a thousand times since, reflecting within my\nself, have wish'd, bating their Errors, and lesser Superstitions, my\nself as happily station'd: For what can there be wanting to a happy\nLife, where all things necessary are provided without Care? Where the\nDays, without Anxiety or Troubles, may be gratefully passed away, with\nan innocent Variety of diverting and pleasing Objects, and where their\nSleep sand Slumbers are never interrupted with any thing more offensive,\nthan murmuring Springs, natural Cascades, or the various Songs of the\npretty feather'd Quiristers.\nBut their Courtesy to Strangers is no less engaging than their Solitude.\nA recluse Life, for the Fruits of it, generally speaking, produces\nMoroseness; Pharisaical Pride too often sours the Temper; and a mistaken\nOpinion of their own Merit too naturally leads such Men into a Contempt\nof others; But on the contrary, these good Men (for I must call them as\nI thought them) seem'd to me the very Emblems of Innocence; so ready to\noblige others, that at the same Instant they seem'd laying Obligations\nupon themselves. This is self-evident, in that Affability and\nComplaisance they use in shewing the Rarities of their several Cells;\nwhere, for fear you should slip any thing worthy Observation, they\nendeavour to instil in you as quick a Propensity of asking, as you find\nin them a prompt Alacrity in answering such Questions of Curiosity as\ntheir own have inspir'd.\nIn particular, I remember one of those reverend old Men, when we were\ntaking Leave at the Door of his Cell, to which out of his great Civility\nhe accompany'd us, finding by the Air of our Faces, as well as our\nExpressions, that we thought ourselves pleasingly entertain'd; to divert\nus afresh, advanc'd a few Paces from the Door, when giving a Whistle\nwith his Mouth, a surprising Flock of pretty little Birds, variegated,\nand of different Colours, immediately flock'd around him. Here you\nshould see some alighting upon his Shoulders, some on his awful Beard;\nothers took Refuge on his snow-like Head, and many feeding, and more\nendeavouring to feed out of his Mouth; each appearing emulous and under\nan innocent Contention, how best to express their Love and Respect to\ntheir no less pleased Master.\nNor did the other Cells labour under any Deficiency of Variety: Every\none boasting in some particular, that might distinguish it in something\nequally agreeable and entertaining. Nevertheless, crystal Springs\nspouting from the solid Rocks were, from the highest to the lowest,\ncommon to them all; and, in most of them, they had little brass Cocks,\nout of which, when turn'd, issu'd the most cool and crystalline Flows of\nexcellent pure Water. And yet what more affected me, and which I found\nnear more Cells than one, was the natural Cascades of the same\ntransparent Element; these falling from one Rock to another, in that\nwarm, or rather hot Climate, gave not more delightful Astonishment to\nthe Eye, than they afforded grateful Refreshment to the whole Man. The\nStreams falling from these, soften, from a rougher tumultuous Noise,\ninto such affecting Murmurs, by Distance, the Intervention of Groves, or\nneighbouring Rocks, that it were impossible to see or hear them and not\nbe chann'd.\nNeither are those Groves grateful only in a beautiful Verdure; Nature\nrenders them otherwise delightful, in loading them with Clusters of\nBerries of a perfect scarlet Colour, which, by a beautiful Intermixture,\nstrike the Eye with additional Delight. In short, it might nonplus a\nPerson of the nicest Taste, to distinguish or determine, whether the\nNeatness of their Cells within, or the beauteous Varieties without, most\nexhaust his Admiration. Nor is the Whole, in my Opinion, a little\nadvantag'd by the frequent View of some of those pyramidical Pillars,\nwhich seem, as weary of their own Weight, to recline and seek Support\nfrom others in the Neighbourhood.\nWhen I mention'd the outside Beauties of their Cells, I must be thought\nto have forgot to particularize the glorious Prospects presented to your\nEye from every one of them; but especially from that nearest the Summit.\nA Prospect, by reason of the Purity of the Air, so extensive, and so\nvery entertaining that to dilate upon it properly to one that never saw\nit, would baffle Credit; and naturally to depaint it, would confound\nInvention. I therefore shall only say, that on the _Mediterranean_ Side,\nafter an agreeable Interval of some fair Leagues, it will set at\ndefiance the strongest Opticks; and although _Barcelona_ bounds it on\nthe Land, the Eyes are feasted with the Delights of such an intervening\nChampion (where beauteous Nature does not only smile, but riot) that the\nSense must be very temperate, or very weak, that can be soon or easily\nsatisfy'd.\nHaving thus taken a View of all their refreshing Springs, their\ngrateful Groves, and solitary Shades under single Trees, whose Clusters\nprov'd that even Rocks were grown fruitful; and having ran over all the\nVariety of Pleasures in their several pretty Cells, decently set off\nwith Gardens round the, equally fragrant and beautiful, we were brought\ndown again to the Convent, which, though on a small Ascent, lies very\nnear the Foot of this terrestrial Paradise, there to take a Survey of\ntheir sumptuous Hall, much more sumptuous Chapel, and its adjoining\nRepository; and feast our Eyes with Wonders of a different Nature; and\nyet as entertaining as any, or all, we had seen before.\nImmediately on our Descent, a Priest presented himself at the Door of\nthe Convent, ready to shew us the hidden Rarities. And though, as I\nunderstood, hardly a Day passes without the Resort of some Strangers to\ngratify their Curiosity with the Wonders of the Place; yet is there, on\nevery such Occasion, a superior Concourse of Natives ready to see over\nagain, out of meer Bigotry and Superstition, what they have seen,\nperhaps, a hundred times before. I could not avoid taking notice,\nhowever, that the Priest treated those constant Visitants with much less\nCeremony, or more Freedom, if you please, than any of the Strangers of\nwhat Nation soever; or, indeed, he seem'd to take as much Pains to\ndisoblige those, as he did Pleasure in obliging us.\nThe Hall was neat, large and stately; but being plain and unadorn'd with\nmore than decent Decorations, suitable to such a Society, I hasten to\nthe other.\nWhen we enter'd the Chapel, our Eyes were immediately attracted by the\nImage of our Lady of _Montserat_ (as they call it) which stands over the\nAltar-Piece. It is about the natural Stature; but as black and shining\nas Ebony it self. Most would imagine it made of that Material; though\nher Retinue and Adorers will allow nothing of the Matter. On the\ncontrary, Tradition, which with them is, on some Occasions, more than\ntantamount to Religion, has assur'd them, and they relate it as\nundoubted Matter of Fact, that her present Colour, if I may so call it,\nproceeded from her Concealment, in the Time of the _Moors_, between\nthose two Rocks on which the Chapel is founded; and that her long lying\nin that dismal Place chang'd her once lovely White into its present\nopposite. Would not a Heretick here be apt to say, That it was greaty\npity that an Image which still boasts the Power of acting so many\nMiracles, could no better conserve her own Complexion? At least it must\nbe allow'd, even by a good Catholick, to carry along with it Matter of\nReproach to the fair Ladies, Natives of the Country, for their unnatural\nand excessive Affection of adulterating, if not defacing, their\nbeautiful Faces, with the ruinating Dauberies of _Carmine_?\nAs the Custom of the Place is (which is likewise allow'd to be a\ndistinguishing Piece of Civility to Strangers) when we approach the\nblack Lady (who, I should have told you, bears a Child in her Arms; but\nwhether maternally Black, or of the _Mulatto_ Kind, I protest I did not\nmind) the Priest, in great Civility, offers you her Arm to salute; at\nwhich Juncture, I, like a true blue Protestant, mistaking my Word of\nCommand, fell foul on the fair Lady's Face. The Displeasure in his\nCountenance (for he took more Notice of the Rudeness than the good Lady\nher self) soon convinc'd me of my Error; However, as a greater Token of\nhis Civility, having admitted no _Spaniards_ along with my Companions\nand me, is pass'd off the better; and his after Civilities manifested,\nthat he was willing to reform my Ignorance by his Complaisance.\nTo demonstrate which, upon my telling him that I had a Set of Beads,\nwhich I must entreat him to consecrate for me, he readily, nay eagerly\ncomply'd; and having hung them on her Arm for the Space of about half,\nor somewhat short of a whole Minute, he return'd me the holy Baubles\nwith a great deal of Address and most evident Satisfaction. The Reader\nwill be apt to admire at this curious Piece of Superstition of mine,\ntill I have told him, that even rigid Protestants have, in this Country,\nthought it but prudent to do the like; and likewise having so done, to\ncarry them about their Persons, or in their Pockets: For Experience has\nconvinc'd us of the Necessity of this most Catholick Precaution; since\nthose who have here, travelling or otherwise, come to their Ends,\nwhether by Accident, Sickness, or the Course of Nature, not having these\nsanctifying Seals found upon them, have ever been refus'd Christian\nBurial, under a superstitious Imagination, that the Corps of a Heretick\nwill infect every thing near it.\nTwo instances of this kind fell within my Knowledge; one before I came\nto _Montserat_, the other after. The first was of one _Slunt_, who had\nbeen _Bombardier_ at _Monjouick_; but being kill'd while we lay at\n_Campilio_, a Priest, whom I advis'd with upon the Matter, told me, that\nif he should be buried where any Corn grew, his Body would not only be\ntaken up again, but ill treated, in revenge of the Destruction of so\nmuch Corn, which the People would on no account be persuaded to touch;\nfor which Reason we took care to have him lay'd in a very deep Grave, on\na very barren Spot of Ground. The other was of one Captain _Bush_, who\nwas a Prisoner with me on the Surrender of _Denia_; who being sent, as I\nwas afterwards, to Saint _Clemente la Mancha_, there dy'd; and, as I was\ninform'd, tho' he was privately, and by Night, bury'd in a Corn-Field,\nhe was taken out of his Grave by those superstitious People, as soon as\never they could discover the Place where his Body was deposited. But I\nreturn to the Convent at _Montserat_.\nOut of the Chapel, behind the High-Altar, we descended into a spacious\nRoom, the Repository of the great Offerings made to the Lady. Here,\nthough I thought in the Chapel it self I had seen the Riches of the\nUniverse, I found a prodigious Quantity of more costly Presents, the\nsuperstitious Tribute of most of the Roman-Catholick Princes in\n_Europe_. Among a Multitude of others, they show'd me a Sword set with\nDiamonds, the Offering of _Charles_ the Third, then King of _Spain_, but\nnow Emperor of _Germany_. Though I must confess, being a Heretick, I\ncould much easier find a Reason for a fair Lady's presenting such a\nSword to a King of _Spain_, than for a King of _Spain's_ presenting such\na Sword to a fair Lady: And by the Motto upon it, _Pulchra tamen nigra_,\nit was plain such was his Opinion. That Prince was so delighted with the\nPleasure's of this sweet Place, that he, as well as I, stay'd as long as\never he could; though neither of us so long as either could have wish'd.\nBut there was another Offering from a King of _Portugal_, equally\nglorious and costly; but much better adapted; and therefore in its\nPropriety easier to be accounted for. That was a Glory for the Head of\nher Ladiship, every Ray of which was set with Diamonds, large at the\nBottom, and gradually lessening to the very Extremity of every Ray.\nEach Ray might be about half a Yard Long; and I imagin'd in the Whole\nthere might be about one Hundred of them. In short, if ever her Ladiship\ndid the Offerer the Honour to put it on, I will though a Heretick,\nventure to aver, she did not at that present time look like a humane\nCreature.\nTo enumerate the rest, if my Memory would suffice, would exceed Belief.\nAs the upper Part was a plain Miracle of Nature, the lower was a\ncompleat Treasury of miraculous Art.\nIf you ascend from the lowest Cell to the very Summit, the last of all\nthe thirteen, you will perceive a continual Contention between Pleasure\nand Devotion; and at last, perhaps, find your self at a Loss to decide\nwhich deserves the Preheminence: For you are not here to take Cells in\nthe vulgar Acceptation, as the little Dormitories of solitary Monks: No!\nNeatness, Use, and Contrivance appear in every one of them; and though\nin an almost perfect Equality, yet in such Perfection, that you will\nfind it difficult to discover in any one of them any thing wanting to\nthe Pleasure of Life.\nIf you descend to the Convent near the Foot of that venerable Hill; you\nmay see more, much more of the Riches of the World; but less, far less\nAppearance of a celestial Treasure. Perhaps, it might be only the\nSentiment of a Heretick; but that Awe and Devotion, which I found in my\nAttendant from Cell to Cell grew languid, and lost in meer empty Bigotry\nand foggy Superstition, when I came below. In short, there was not a\ngreat Difference in their Heights, than in the Sentiments they inspir'd\nme with.\nBefore I leave this Emblem of the beatific Vision, I must correct some\nthing like a Mistake, as to the poor _Borigo_. I said at the Beginning\nthat his Labour was daily; but the _Sunday_ is to him a Day of rest, as\nit is to the Hermits, his Masters, a Day of Refection. For to save the\npoor faithful Brute the hard Drudgery of that Day, the thirteen Hermits,\nif Health permit, descend to their _Canobium_, as they call it; that is,\nto the Hall of the Convent; where they dine in common with the Monks of\nthe Order, who are _Benedictines_.\nAfter seven Days Variety of such innocent Delight (the Space allow'd for\nthe Entertainment of Strangers), I took my Leave of this pacifick\nHermitage, to pursue the more boisterous Duties of my Calling. The Life\nof a Soldier is in every Respect the full _Antithesis_ to that of a\nHermit; and I know not, whether it might not be a Sense of that, which\ninspir'd me with very great Reluctancy at parting. I confess, while on\nthe Spot, I over and over bandy'd in my Mind the Reasons which might\nprevail upon _Charles_ the Fifth to relinquish his Crown; and the\nArguments on his Side never fail'd of Energy, I could persuade my self\nthat this, or some like happy Retreat, was the Reward of abdicated\nEmpire.\nFull of these Contemplations (for they lasted there) I arriv'd at\n_Barcelona_; where I found a Vessel ready to sail, on which I embarked\nfor _Denia_, in pursuance of my Orders. Sailing to the Mouth of the\n_Mediterranean_, no Place along the _Christian_ Shore affords a Prospect\nequally delightful with the Castle of _Denia_. It was never designed for\na Place of great Strength, being built, and first design'd, as a Seat of\nPleasure to the Great Duke of _Lerma_. In that Family it many Years\nremain'd; tho', within less than a Century, that with two other\nDukedoms, have devolv'd upon the Family of the Duke _de Medina Celi_,\nthe richest Subject at this time in all _Spain_.\n_DENIA_ was the first Town, that in our Way to _Barcelona_, declar'd for\nKing _Charles_; and was then by his Order made a Garrison. The Town is\nbut small, and surrounded with a thin Wall; so thin, that I have known a\nCannon-Ball pierce through it at once.\nWhen I arriv'd at _Denia_, I found a _Spaniard_ Governor of the Town,\nwhose Name has slipt my Memory; tho' his Behaviour merited everlasting\nAnnals. Major _Percival_, an _Englishman_, commanded in the Castle, and\non my coming there, I understood, it had been agreed between 'em, that\nin case of a Siege, which they apprehended, the Town should be defended\nwholly by _Spaniards_, and the Castle by the _English_.\nI had scarce been there three Weeks before those Expectations were\nanswered. The Place was invested by Count _D'Alfelt_, and Major General\n_Mahoni_; two Days after which, they open'd Trenches on the East Side of\nthe Town. I was necessitated upon their so doing, to order the\nDemolishment of some Houses on that Side, that I might erect a Battery\nto point upon their Trenches, the better to annoy them. I did so; and it\ndid the intended Service; for with that, and two others, which I rais'd\nupon the Castle (from all which we fir'd incessantly, and with great\nSuccess) the Besiegers were sufficiently incommoded.\nThe Governor of the Town (a _Spaniard_ as I said before, and with a\n_Spanish_ Garrison) behav'd very gallantly; insomuch, that what was said\nof the Prince of _Hesse_, when he so bravely defended _Gibraltar_\nagainst the joint Forces of _France_ and _Spain_, might be said of him,\nthat he was Governor, Engineer, Gunner, and Bombardier all in one; For\nno Man could exceed him, either in Conduct or Courage; nor were the\n_Spaniards_ under him less valiant or vigilant; for in case the Place\nwas taken, expecting but indifferent Quarter, they fought with Bravery,\nand defended the Place to Admiration.\nThe Enemy had answer'd our Fire with all the Ardour imaginable; and\nhaving made a Breach, that, as we thought was practicable, a Storm was\nexpected every Hour. Preparing against which to the great Joy of all the\nInhabitants, and the Surprize of the whole Garrison, and without our\nbeing able to assign the least Cause, the Enemy suddenly raised the\nSiege, and withdrew from a Place, which those within imagined in great\nDanger.\nThe Siege thus abdicated (if I may use a modern Phrase) I was resolved\nto improve my Time, and make the best Provision I could against any\nfuture Attack. To that purpose I made several new Fortifications,\ntogether with proper Casemets for our Powder, all which render'd the\nPlace much stronger, tho' Time too soon show'd me that Strength it self\nmust yield to Fortune.\nSurveying those works, and my Workmen, I was one Day standing on the\ngreat Battery, when casting my Eye toward the _Barbary_ Coast, I\nobserv'd an odd sort of greenish Cloud making to the _Spanish_ Shoar.\nNot like other Clouds with Rapidity or Swiftness, but with a Motion so\nslow, that Sight itself was a long time before it would allow it such.\nAt last, it came just over my Head, and interposing between the Sun and\nme, so thickened the Air, that I had lost the very Sight of Day. At this\nmoment it had reach'd the Land; and tho' very near me in my Imagination,\nit began to dissolve, and lose of its first Tenebrity, when all on a\nsudden there fell such a vast multitude of Locusts, as exceeded the\nthickest storm of Hail or Snow that I ever saw. All around me was\nimmediately cover'd with those crauling Creatures; and they yet\ncontinu'd to fall so thick, that with the swing of my Cane I knock'd\ndown thousands. It is scarce imaginable the Havock I made in a very\nlittle space of time; much less conceivable is the horrid Desolation\nwhich attended the Visitation of those _Animalcula_. There was not in a\nDay or two's time, the least Leaf to be seen upon a Tree, nor any green\nThing in a Garden. Nature seem'd buried in her own Ruins; and the\nvegetable World to be Supporters only to her Monument. I never saw the\nhardest Winter, in those Parts, attended with any equal Desolation.\nWhen, glutton like, they had devoured all that should have sustained\nthem, and the more valuable Part of God's Creation (whether weary with\ngorging, or over thirsty with devouring, I leave to Philosophers) they\nmade to Ponds, Brooks, and standing Pools, there revenging their own\nRape upon Nature, upon their own vile Carkasses. In every of these you\nmight see them lie in Heaps like little Hills; drown'd indeed, but\nattended with Stenches so noisome, that it gave the distracted\nNeighbourhood too great Reason to apprehend yet more fatal Consequences.\nA Pestilential Infection is the Dread of every Place, but especially of\nall Parts upon the _Mediterranean_. The Priests therefore repair'd to a\nlittle Chapel, built in the open Fields, to be made use of on such like\nOccasions, there to deprecate the miserable Cause of this dreadful\nVisitation. In a Week's time, or there abouts, the Stench was over, and\nevery Thing but verdant Nature in its pristin Order.\nSome few Months after this, and about eight Months from the former\nSiege, Count _D'Alfelt_ caus'd _Denia_ to be again invested; and being\nthen sensible of all the Mistakes he had before committed, he now went\nabout his Business with more Regularity and Discretion. The first Thing\nhe set upon, and it was the wisest Thing he could do, was to cut off our\nCommunication with the Sea. This he did, and thereby obtained what he\nmuch desired. Next, he caus'd his Batteries to be erected on the West\nside of the Town, from which he ply'd it so furiously, that in five\nDays' time a practicable Breach was made; upon which they stormed and\ntook it. The Governor, who had so bravely defended it in the former\nSeige, fortunately for him had been remov'd; and _Francis_ _Valero_,\nnow in his Place, was made Prisoner of War with all his Garrison.\nAfter the taking the Town, they erected Batteries against the Castle,\nwhich they kept ply'd with incessant Fire, both from Cannon and Mortars.\nBut what most of all plagu'd us, and did us most Mischief, was the vast\nshowers of Stones sent among the Garrison from their Mortars. These,\nterrible in Bulk and Size, did more Execution than all the rest put\ntogether. The Garrison could not avoid being somewhat disheartened at\nthis uncommon way of Rencounter; yet, to a Man, dedar'd against\nhearkening to any Proposals of Surrender, the Governor excepted; who\nhaving selected more Treasure than he could properly, or justly call his\nown, was the only Person that seem'd forward for such a Motion. He had\nmore than once thrown out Expressions of such a Nature, but without any\neffect. Nevertheless, having at last secretly obtained a peculiar\nCapitulation for himself, Bag, and Baggage; the Garrison was sacrific'd\nto his private Interest, and basely given up Prisoners of War. By these\nMeans indeed he saved his Money, but lost his Reputation; and soon\nafter, Life it self. And sure every Body will allow the latter loss to\nbe least, who will take Pains to consider, that it screened him from the\nconsequential Scrutinies of a Council of War, which must have issued as\nthe just Reward of his Demerits.\nThe Garrison being thus unaccountably delivered up and made Prisoners,\nwere dispersed different ways: Some into _Castile_, others as far as\n_Oviedo_, in the Kingdom of _Leon_. For my own part, having received a\nContusion in my Breast; I was under a necessity of being left behind\nwith the Enemy, till I should be in a Condition to be remov'd, and when\nthat time came, I found my self agreeably ordered to _Valencia_.\nAs Prisoner of War I must now bid adieu to the active Part of the\nmilitary Life; and hereafter concern my self with Descriptions of\nCountries, Towns, Palaces, and Men, instead of Battles. However, if I\ntake in my way Actions of War, founded on the best Authorities, I hope\nmy Interspersing such will be no disadvantage to my now more pacifick\nMEMOIRS.\nSo soon as I arriv'd at _Valencia_, I wrote to our Pay-master Mr.\n_Mead_, at _Barcelona_, letting him know, that I was become a Prisoner,\nwounded, and in want of Money. Nor could even all those Circumstances\nprevail on me to think it long before he returned a favourable Answer,\nin an Order to Monsieur _Zoulicafre_, a Banker, to pay me on Sight fifty\nPistoles. But in the same Letter he gave me to understand, that those\nfifty Pistoles were a Present to me from General (afterward Earl)\n_Stanhope_; and so indeed I found it, when I return'd into _England_, my\nAccount not being charged with any part of it: But this was not the only\nTest I received of that generous Earl's Generosity. And where's the\nWonder, as the World is compell'd to own, that Heroick Actions and\nLargeness of Soul ever did discover and amply distinguish the genuine\nBranches of that illustrious Family.\nThis Recruit to me however was the more generous for being seasonable.\nBenefits are always doubled in their being easily conferr'd and well\ntim'd; and with such an Allowance as I constantly had by the order of\nKing _Philip_, as Prisoner of War, _viz._ eighteen Ounces of Mutton _per\ndiem_ for my self, and nine for my Man, with Bread and Wine in\nproportion, and especially in such a Situation; all this I say was\nsufficient to invite a Man to be easy, and almost forget his want of\nLiberty, and much more so to me if it be consider'd, that, that want of\nLiberty consisted only in being debarr'd from leaving the pleasantest\nCity in all _Spain_.\nHere I met with the _French_ Engineer, who made the Mine under the Rock\nof the Castle at _Alicant_. That fatal Mine, which blew up General\n_Richards_, Colonel _Syburg_, Colonel _Thornicroft_, and at least twenty\nmore Officers. And yet by the Account, that Engineer gave me, their Fate\nwas their own choosing: The General, who commanded at that Siege being\nmore industrious to save them, than they were to be say'd: He\nendeavour'd it many ways: He sent them word of the Mine, and their\nreadiness to spring it; he over and over sent them Offers of Leave to\ncome, and take a view of it, and inspect it: Notwithstanding all which,\ntho' Colonel _Thornicroft_, and Captain _Page_, a _French_ Engineer, in\nthe Service of King _Charles_, pursued the Invitation, and were\npermitted to view it, yet would they not believe; but reported on their\nReturn, that it was a sham Mine, a feint only to intimidate 'em to a\nSurrender, all the Bags being fill'd with Sand instead of Gun-powder.\nThe very Day on which the Besiegers design'd to spring the Mine, they\ngave Notice of it; and the People of the Neighbourhood ran up in Crowds\nto an opposite Hill in order to see it: Nevertheless, altho' those in\nthe Castle saw all this, they still remain'd so infatuated, as to\nimagine it all done only to affright 'em. At length the fatal Mine was\nsprung, and all who were upon that Battery lost their Lives; and among\nthem those I first mentioned. The very Recital hereof made me think\nwithin my self, _who can resist his Fate_?\nThat Engineer added further, that it was with an incredible Difficulty,\nthat he prepar'd that Mine; that there were in the Concavity thirteen\nhundred Barrels of Powder; notwithstanding which, it made no great Noise\nwithout, whatever it might do inwardly; that only taking away what might\nbe not improperly term'd an Excrescence in the Rock, the Heave on the\nBlast had render'd the Castle rather stronger on that Side than it was\nbefore, a Crevice or Crack which had often occasioned Apprehensions\nbeing thereby wholly clos'd and firm.\nSome further Particulars I soon after had from Colonel _Syburg's_\nGentleman; who seeing me at the Play-house, challenged me, tho' at that\nTime unkown to me. He told me, that the Night preceeding the unfortunate\nCatastrophe of his Master, he was waiting on him in the Casemet, where\nhe observed, sometime before the rest of the Company took notice of it,\nthat General _Richards_ appeared very pensive and thoughtful, that the\nwhole Night long he was pester'd with, and could not get rid of a great\nFlie, which was perpetually buzzing about his Ears and Head, to the\nvexation and disturbance of the rest of the Company, as well as the\nGeneral himself; that in the Morning, when they went upon the Battery,\nunder which the Mine was, the General made many offers of going off; but\nColonel _Syburg_, who was got a little merry, and the rest out of a\nBravado, would stay, and would not let the General stir; that at last it\nwas propos'd by Colonel _Syburg_ to have the other two Bottles to the\nQueen's Health, after which he promised they would all go off together.\nUpon this my Relator, _Syburg's_ Gentleman, said, he was sent to fetch\nthe stipulated two Bottles; returning with which, Captain _Daniel\nWeaver_, within thirty or forty Yards of the Battery, ran by him,\nvowing, he was resolv'd to drink the Queen's Health with them; but his\nFeet were scarce on the Battery, when the Mine was sprung, which took\nhim away with the rest of the Company; while Major _Harding_ now a\nJustice in _Westminster_ coming that very Moment off Duty, exchang'd\nFates.\nIf Predestination, in the Eyes of many, is an unaccountable Doctrine,\nwhat better Account can the wisest give of this Fatality? Or to what\nelse shall we impute the Issue of this whole Transaction? That Men shall\nbe solicited to their Safety; suffered to survey the Danger they were\nthreatened with; among many other Tokens of its approaching Certainty,\nsee such a Concourse of People crowding to be Spectators of their\nimpending Catastrophe; and after all this, so infatuated to stay on the\nfatal Spot the fetching up of the other two Bottles; whatever it may to\nsuch as never think, to such as plead an use of Reason, it must\nadminister Matter worthy of the sedatest Consideration.\nBeing now pretty well recover'd of my Wounds, I was by Order of the\nGovernor of _Valencia_, removed to _Sainte Clemente de la Mancha_, a\nTown somewhat more Inland, and consequently esteem'd more secure than a\nSemi-Seaport. Here I remain'd under a sort of Pilgrimage upwards of\nthree Years. To me as a Stranger divested of Acquaintance or Friend (for\nat that instant I was sole Prisoner there) at first it appear'd such,\ntho' in a very small compass of Time, I luckily found it made quite\notherwise by an agreeable Conversation.\n_SAINTE Clemente de la Mancha_, is rendered famous by the renown'd _Don\nMichael Cerviantes_, who in his facetious but satyrical Romance, has\nfix'd it the Seat and Birth Place of his Hero _Don Quixot_.\nThe Gentlemen of this Place are the least Priest-ridden or Sons of\nBigotry, of any that I met with in all _Spain_; of which in my\nConversation with them I had daily Instances. Among many others, an\nExpression that fell from _Don Felix Pacheco_, a Gentleman of the best\nFigure thereabout, and of a very plentiful Fortune, shall now suffice. I\nwas become very intimate with him; and we us'd often to converse\ntogether with a Freedom too dangerous to be common in a Country so\nenslav'd by the Inquisition. Asking me one Day in a sort of a jocose\nmanner, who, in my Opinion, had done the greatest Miracles that ever\nwere heard of? I answer'd, Jesus Christ.\n\"It is very true,\" says he, \"Jesus Christ did great Miracles, and a\ngreat one it was to feed five Thousand People with two or three small\nFishes, and a like number of Loaves: But _Saint Francis_, the Founder of\nthe _Franciscan_ Order, has found out a way to feed daily one hundred\nThousand Lubbards with nothing at all\"; meaning the _Franciscans_, the\nFollowers of Saint _Francis_, who have no visible Revenues; yet in their\nway of Living come up to, if they do not exceed any other Order.\nAnother Day talking of the Place, it naturally led us into a Discourse\nof the Knight of _la Mancha, Don Quixot_. At which time he told me, that\nin his Opinion, that Work was a perfect Paradox, being the best and the\nworst Romance, that ever was wrote.\n\"For,\" says he, \"tho' it must infallibly please every Man, that has any\ntaste of Wit; yet has it had such a fatal Effect upon the Spirits of my\nCountrymen, that every Man of Wit must ever resent; for,\" continu'd he,\n\"before the Appearance in the World of that Labour of _Cerviantes_, it\nwas next to an Impossibility for a Man to walk the Streets with any\nDelight, or without Danger. There were seen so many Cavaliero's prancing\nand curvetting before the Windows of their Mistresses, that a Stranger\nwould have imagin'd the whole Nation to have been nothing less than a\nRace of Knight Errants. But after the World became a little acquainted\nwith that notable History; the Man that was seen in that once celebrated\nDrapery, was pointed at as a _Don Quixot_, and found himself the Jest of\nHigh and Low. And I verily believe,\" added he, \"that to this, and this\nonly we owe that dampness and poverty of Spirit, which has run thro' all\nour Councils for a Century past, so little agreeable to those nobler\nActions of our famous Ancestors.\"\nAfter many of these lesser sorts of Confidences, _Don Felix_ recommended\nme to a Lodging next Door to his own. It was at a Widow's, who had one\nonly Daughter, her House just opposite to a _Francisan_ Nunnery. Here I\nremain'd somewhat upwards of two Years; all which time, lying in my Bed,\nI could hear the Nuns early in the Morning at their _Matins_, and late\nin the Evening at their _Vespers_, with Delight enough to my self, and\nwithout the least Indecency in the World in my Thoughts of them. Their\nown Divine Employ too much employ'd every Faculty of mine to entertain\nany Thing inconsentaneous or offensive.\nThis my Neighbourhood to the Nunnery gave me an opportunity of seeing\ntwo Nuns invested; and in this I must do a Justice to the whole Country,\nto acknowledge, that a Stranger who is curious (I would impute it rather\nto their hopes of Conversion, than to their Vanity) shall be admitted to\nmuch greater Freedoms in their religious Pageantries, than any Native.\nOne of these Nuns was of the first Quality, which render'd the Ceremony\nmore remarkably fine. The manner of investing them was thus: In the\nMorning her Relations and Friends all met at her Father's House; whence,\nshe being attir'd in her most sumptuous Apparel, and a Coronet plac'd on\nher Head, they attended her, in Cavalcade, to the Nunnery, the Streets\nand Windows being crowded, and fill'd with Spectators of all sorts.\nSo soon as she enter'd the Chapel belonging to the Nunnery, she kneel'd\ndown, and with an appearance of much Devotion, saluted the Ground; then\nrising up, she advanced a Step or two farther, when on her Knees she\nrepeated the Salutes: This done she approached to the Altar, where she\nremained till Mass was over: After which, a Sermon was preach'd by one\nof the Priests in Praise, or rather in an exalted Preference of a single\nLife. The Sermon being over, the Nun elect fell down on her Knees before\nthe Altar; and after some short mental Oraisons, rising again, she\nwithdrew into an inner Room, where stripping off all her rich Attire,\nshe put on her Nun's Weeds: In which making her Appearance, she, again\nkneeling, offer'd up some private Devotions; which being over, she was\nled to the Door of the Nunnery, where the Lady and the rest of the Nuns\nstood ready to receive her with open Arms. Thus enter'd, the Nuns\nconducted her into the Quire, where after they had entertained her with\nSinging, and playing upon the Organ, the Ceremony concluded, and every\none departed to their proper Habitations.\nThe very same Day of the Year ensuing the Relations and Friends of the\nfair Novitiate meet again in the Chapel of the Nunnery, where the Lady\nAbbess brings her out, and delivers her to them. Then again is there a\nSermon preach'd on the same Subject as at first; which being over, she\nis brought up to the Altar, in a decent, but plain Dress, the fine\nApparel, which she put off on her Initiation, being deposited on one\nside of the Altar, and her Nun's Weeds on the other. Here the Priest in\nLatin cries, _Utrum horum mavis, accipe_: to which she answers, as her\nInclination, or as her Instruction directs her. If she, after this her\nYear of Probation, show any Dislike, she is at Liberty to come again\ninto the World: But if aw'd by Fear (as too often is the Case) or won by\nExpectation, or present real Inclination, she makes choice of the Nun's\nWeeds, she is immediately invested, and must never expect to appear\nagain in the World out of the Walls of the Nunnery. The young Lady I\nthus saw invested was very beautiful, and sang the best of any in the\nNunnery.\nThere are in the Town three Nunneries, and a Convent to every one of\nthem; _viz_. one of _Jesuits_, one of _Carmelites_, and the other of\n_Franciscans_. Let me not be so far mistaken to have this taken by way\nof Reflection. No! Whatever some of our Rakes of the Town may assert, I\nfreely declare, that I never saw in any of the Nunneries (of which I\nhave seen many both in _Spain_ and other Parts of the World) any thing\nlike indecent Behaviour, that might give occasion for Satyr or\nDisesteem. It is true, there may be Accidents, that may lead to a\nMisinterpretation, of which I remember a very untoward Instance in\n_Alicant_.\nWhen the _English_ Forces first laid Siege to that Town, the Priests,\nwho were apprehensive of it, having been long since made sensible of the\nprofound Regard to Chastity and Modesty of us Hereticks, by the\nignominious Behaviour of certain Officers at _Rota_ and _Porta St.\nMaria_, the Priests, I say, had taken care to send away privately all\nthe Nuns to _Majorca_. But that the Heretick Invaders might have no\nJealousy of it, the fair _Curtezans_ of the Town were admitted to supply\ntheir Room. The Officers, both of Land and Sea, as was by the Friars\npre-imagin'd, on taking the Town and Castle, immediately repair'd to the\nGrates of the Nunnery, toss'd over their Handkercheifs, Nosegays, and\nother pretty Things; all which were, doubtless, very graciously received\nby those imaginary Recluses. Thence came it to pass, that in the space\nof a Month or less, you could hardly fall into Comany of any one of our\nyounger Officers, of either sort, but the Discourse, if it might\ndeserve the Name, was concerning these beautiful Nuns; and you wou'd\nhave imagin'd the Price of these Ladies as well known as that of Flesh\nin their common Markets. Others, as well as my self, have often\nendeavour'd to disabuse those Glorioso's, but all to little purpose,\ntill more sensible Tokens convinced them, that the Nuns, of whose\nFavours they so much boasted, could hardly be perfect Virgins, tho' in a\nCloyster. And I am apt to think, those who would palm upon the World\nlike vicious Relations of Nuns and Nunneries, do it on much like\nGrounds. Not that there are wanting Instances of Nunneries\ndisfranchis'd, and even demolish'd, upon very flagrant Accounts; but I\nconfine myself to _Spain_.\nIn this Town of _la Mancha_ the _Corrigidore_ always has his Presidence,\nhaving sixteen others under his Jurisdiction, of which _Almanza_ is one.\nThey are changed every three Years, and their Offices are the Purchase\nof an excessive Price; which occasions the poor People's being\nextravagantly fleeced, nothing being to be sold but at the Rates they\nimpose; and every Thing that is sold paying the _Corrigidore_ an\nAcknowledgment in specie, or an Equivalent to his liking.\nWhile I was here, News came of the Battle of _Almanar_ and _Saragosa_;\nand giving the Victory to that Side, which they espous'd (that of King\n_Philip_) they made very great Rejoycings. But soon, alas, for them, was\nall that Joy converted into Sorrow: The next Courier evincing, that the\nForces of King _Charles_ had been victorious in both Engagements. This\ndid not turn to my present Disadvantage: For Convents and Nunneries, as\nwell as some of those Dons, whom afore I had not stood so well with,\nstrove now how most to oblige me; not doubting, but if the victorious\nArmy should march that way, it might be in my Power to double the most\nsignal of their Services in my Friendship.\nSoon after an Accident fell out, which had like to have been of an\nunhappy Consequence to me. I was standing in Company, upon the Parade,\nwhen a most surprizing flock of Eagles flew over our Heads, where they\nhover'd for a considerable time. The Novelty struck them all with\nAdmiration, as well as my self. But I, less accustomed to like\nSpectacles, innocent saying, that in my Opinion, it could not bode any\ngood to King _Philip_, because the Eagle compos'd the Arms of\n_Austria_; some busie Body, in hearing, went and inform'd the\n_Corrigidore_ of it. Those most magisterial Wretches embrace all\nOccasions of squeezing Money; and more especially from Strangers.\nHowever finding his Expectations disappointed in me, and that I too well\nknew the length of his Foot, to let my Money run freely; he sent me next\nDay to _Alercon_; but the Governor of that Place having had before\nIntelligence, that the _English_ Army was advancing that way, refus'd to\nreceive me, so I return'd as I went; only the Gentlemen of the Place, as\nthey had condol'd the first, congratulated the last; for that\n_Corrigidore_ stood but very indifferently in their Affections. However,\nit was a warning to me ever after, how I made use of _English_ Freedom\nin a _Spanish_ Territory.\nAs I had attain'd the Acquaintance of most of the Clergy, and Religious\nof the Place; so particularly I had my aim in obtaining that of the\nProvincial of the _Carmelites_. His Convent, tho' small, was exceeding\nneat; but what to me was much more agreeable, There were very large\nGardens belonging to it, which often furnished me with Sallading and\nFruit, and much oftner with Walks of Refreshment, the most satisfactory\nAmusement in this warm Climate. This Acquaintance with the Provincial\nwas by a little Incident soon advanced into a Friendship; which was\nthus: I was one Day walking, as I us'd to do, in the long Gallery of the\nConvent, when observing the Images of the Virgin _Mary_, of which there\nwas one at each end; I took notice that one had an Inscription under it,\nwhich was this, _Ecce, Virgo peperit filium_: but the other had no\nInscription at all; upon which, I took out my Pencil, and wrote\nunderneath, this Line:\n     _Sponsa Dei, patrisque parens, & filia filii_.\nThe Friars, who at a little distance had observed me, as soon as I was\ngone, came up and read what I had writ; reporting which to the\nProvincial, he order'd them to be writ over in Letters of Gold, and\nplac'd just as I had put 'em; saying, doubtless, such a fine Line you'd\nproceed from nothing less than Inspiration. This secur'd me ever after\nhis and their Esteem; the least advantage of which, was a full Liberty\nof their Garden for all manner of Fruit, Sallading, or whatever I\npleased: And as I said before, the Gardens were too fine not to render\nsuch a Freedom acceptable.\nThey often want Rain in this Country: To supply the Defect of which, I\nobserved in this Garden, as well as others, an Invention not unuseful.\nThere is a Well in the Middle of the Garden, and over that a Wheel with\nmany Pitchers, or Buckets, one under another, which Wheel being turned\nround by an Ass, the Pitchers scoop up the Water on one Side, and throw\nit out on the other into a Trough, that by little Channels conveys it,\nas the Gardiner directs, into every part of the Garden. By this Means\ntheir Flowers and their Sallading are continually refresh'd, and\npreserved from the otherwise over-parching Beams of the Sun.\nThe Inquisition, in almost every Town in _Spain_ (and more especially,\nif of any great Account) has its Spies, or Informers, for treacherous\nIntelligence. These make it their Business to ensnare the simple and\nunguarded; and are more to be avoided by the Stranger, than the Rattle\nSnake. Nature have appointed no such happy Tokens in the former to\nforeshew the Danger. I had Reason to believe, that one of those Vermin\nonce made his Attack upon me in this place: And as they are very rarely,\nif ever known to the Natives themselves, I being a Stranger, may be\nallowed to make a guess by Circumstances.\nI was walking by my self, when a Person, wholly unknown to me, giving me\nthe civil Salute of the Day, endeavour'd to draw me into Conversation.\nAfter Questions had passed on general Heads, the fellow ensnaringly\nasked me, how it came to pass, that I show'd so little Respect to the\nImage of the crucify'd Jesus, as I pass'd by it in such a Street, naming\nit? I made Answer, that I had, or ought to have him always in my Heart\ncrucified. To that he made no Reply: But proceeding in his\nInterrogatories, question'd me next, whether I believ'd a Purgatory? I\nevaded the Question, as I took it to be ensnaring; and only told him,\nthat I should be willing to hear him offer any Thing that might convince\nme of the Truth, or Probability of it. Truth? He reply'd in a Heat:\nThere never yet was Man so Holy as to enter Heaven without first passing\nthrough Purgatory. In my Opinion, said I, there will be no Difficulty in\nconvincing a reasonable Man to the contrary. What mean you by that,\ncry'd the Spy? I mean, said I, that I can name one, and a great Sinner\ntoo, who went into Bliss without any Visit to Purgatory. Name him, if\nyou can, reply'd my Querist. What think you of the Thief upon the Cross,\nsaid I? to whom our dying Saviour said, _Hodie eris mecum in Paradiso_.\nAt which being silenced tho' not convicted, he turned from me in a\nviolent Rage, and left me to my self.\nWhat increas'd my first Suspicion of him was, that a very short time\nafter, my Friend the Provincial sent to speak with me; and repeating all\nPassages between the holy Spy and me, assur'd me that he had been forc'd\nto argue in my Favour, and tell him that I had said nothing but well:\n_For_ says he, _all ought to have the Holy Jesus crucified in their\nHearts_.\n\"Nevertheless,\" continu'd he, \"it is a commendable and good Thing to\nhave him represented in the high Ways: For, suppose,\" said he, \"a Man\nwas going upon some base or profligate Design, the very Sight of a\ncruficied Saviour may happen to subvert his Resolution, and deter him\nfrom committing Theft, Murder, or any other of the deadly Sins.\" And\nthus ended that Conference.\nI remember upon some other occasional Conversation after, the Provincial\ntold me, that in the _Carmelite_ Nunnery next to his Convent, and under\nhis Care, there was a Nun, that was Daughter to _Don Juan_ of _Austria_;\nif so, her Age must render her venerable, as her Quality.\nTaking notice one Day, that all the People of the Place fetch'd their\nWater from a Well without the Town, altho' they had many seemingly as\ngood within; I spoke to _Don Felix_ of it, who gave me, under the Seal\nof Secrecy, this Reason for it:\n\"When the Seat of the War,\" said he, \"lay in these Parts, the _French_\nTrain of Artillery was commonly quarter'd in this Place; the Officers\nand Soldiers of which were so very rampant and rude, in attempting to\ndebauch our Women, that there is not a Well within the Town, which has\nnot some _French_ Mens Bones at the bottom of it; therefore the Natives,\nwho are sensible of it, choose rather to go farther a field.\"\nBy this Well there runs a little Rivulet, which gives head to that\nfamous River call'd the _Guadiana_; which running for some Leagues under\nGround, affords a pretence for the Natives to boast of a Bridge on which\nthey feed many Thousands of Sheep. When it rises again, it is a fine\nlarge River, and after a Currency of many Leagues, empties it self into\nthe _Atlantick_ Ocean.\nAs to military Affairs, _Almanar_ and _Saragosa_ were Victories so\ncompleat, that no Body made the least doubt of their settling the Crown\nof _Spain_ upon the Head of _Charles_ the Third, without a Rival. This\nwas not barely the Opinion of his Friends, but his very Enemies resign'd\nall Hope or Expectation in favour of King _Philip_. The _Castilians_,\nhis most faithful Friends, entertain'd no other Imagination; for after\nthey had advis'd, and prevail'd that the Queen with the Prince of\n_Asturias_ should be sent to _Victoria_; under the same Despondency, and\na full Dispiritedness, they gave him so little Encouragement to stay in\n_Madrid_, that he immediately quitted the Place, with a Resolution to\nretire into his Grandfather's Dominions, the Place of his Nativity.\nIn his way to which, even on the last Day's Journey, it was his great\ngood Fortune to meet the Duke of _Vendome_, with some few Troops, which\nhis Grandfather _Lewis_ XIV. of _France_ had order'd to his Succour,\nunder that Duke's Command. The Duke was grievously affected at such an\nunexpected Catastrophe; nevertheless, he left nothing unsaid or undone,\nthat might induce that Prince to turn back; and at length prevailing,\nafter a little Rest, and a great deal of Patience, by the Coming in of\nhis scatter'd Troops, and some few he could raise, together with those\nthe Duke brought with him, he once more saw himself at the Head of\ntwenty thousand Men.\nWhile Things were in this Manner, under Motion in King _Philip's_\nFavour, _Charles_ the third, with his victorious Army, advances forward,\nand enters into _Madrid_, of which he made General _Stanhope_ Governor.\nAnd even here the _Castilians_ gave full Proof of their Fidelity to\ntheir Prince; even at the Time when, in their Opinion, his Affairs were\npast all Hopes of Retrieve, they themselves having, by their Advice,\ncontributed to his Retreat. Instead of prudential Acclamations\ntherefore, such as might have answered the Expectations of a victorious\nPrince, now entering into their Capital, their Streets were all in a\nprofound Silence, their Balconies unadorn'd with costly Carpets, as was\ncustomary on like Occasions; and scarce an Inhabitant to be seen in\neither Shop or Window.\nThis doubtless was no little Mortification to a conquering Prince;\nhowever his Generals were wife enough to keep him from shewing any other\nTokens of Resentment, than marching through the City with Unconcern, and\ntaking up his Quarters at _Villa-verda_, about a League from it.\nNevertheless King _Charles_ visited, in his March, the Chapel of the\nLady _de Atocha_, where finding several _English_ Colours and Standards,\ntaken in the Battle of _Almanza_, there hung up; he ordered 'em to be\ntaken down, and restor'd 'em to the _English_ General.\nIt was the current Opinion then, and almost universal Consent has since\nconfirm'd it, that the falsest Step in that whole War was this\nAdvancement of King _Charles_ to _Madrid_. After those two remarkable\nVictories at _Almanar_ and _Saragosa_, had he directed his March to\n_Pampeluna_, and obtain'd Possession of that Place, or some other near\nit, he had not only stopt all Succours from coming out of _France_, but\nhe would, in a great Measure, have prevented the gathering together of\nany of the routed and dispers'd Forces of King _Philip_: And it was the\ngeneral Notion of the _Spaniards_, I convers'd with while at _Madrid_,\nthat had King _Philip_ once again set his Foot upon _French_ Land,\n_Spain_ would never have been brought to have re-acknowledged him.\nKing _Charles_ with his Army having stay'd some Time about _Madrid_, and\nseeing his Expectations of the _Castilians_ joining him not at all\nanswered, at last resolved to decamp, and return to _Saragosa_:\nAccordingly with a very few Troops that Prince advanced thither; while\nthe main Body, under the Command of the Generals _Stanhope_ and\n_Staremberg_, passing under the very Walls of _Madrid_, held on their\nMarch towards _Aragon_.\nAfter about three Days' March, General _Stanhope_ took up his Quarters\nat _Breuhiga_, a small Town half wall'd; General _Staremberg_ marching\nthree Leagues farther, to _Cisuentes_. This choice of Situation of the\ntwo several Armies not a little puzzled the Politicians of those Times,\nwho could very indifferently account for the _English_ General's lying\nexpos'd in an open Town, with his few _English_ Forces, of which General\n_Harvey's_ Regiment of fine Horse might be deem'd the Main; and General\n_Staremberg_ encamping three Leagues farther off the Enemy. But to see\nthe Vicissitudes of Fortune, to which the Actions of the bravest, by an\nuntoward Sort of Fatality, are often forced to contribute! None, who had\nbeen Eye-witnesses of the Bravery of either of those Generals at the\nBattles of _Almanar_ and _Saragosa_, could find Room to call in question\neither their Conduct or their Courage; and yet in this March, and this\nEncampment will appear a visible ill Consequence to the Affairs of the\nInterest they fought for.\nThe Duke of _Vendome_ having increas'd the Forces which he brought from\n_France_, to upwards of twenty thousand Men, marches by _Madrid_\ndirectly for _Breuhiga_, where his Intelligence inform'd him General\n_Stanhope_ lay, and that so secretly as well as swiftly, that that\nGeneral knew nothing of it, nor could be persuaded to believe it, till\nthe very Moment their Bullets from the Enemy's Cannon convinc'd him of\nthe Truth. _Breuhiga_, I have said, was wall'd only on one Side, and yet\non that very side the Enemy made their Attack. But what could a Handful\ndo against a Force so much superior, though they had not been in want of\nboth Powder and Ball; and in want of these were forc'd to make use of\nStones against all Sorts of Ammunition, which the Enemy ply'd them with?\nThe Consequence answered the Deficiency; they were all made Prisoners of\nWar, and _Harvey_'s Regiment of Horse among the rest; which, to augment\ntheir Calamity, was immediately remounted by the Enemy, and march'd\nalong with their Army to attack General _Staremberg_.\nThat General had heard somewhat of the March of _Vendome_; and waited\nwith some Impatience to have the Confirmation of it from General\n_Stanhope_, who lay between, and whom he lay under an Expectation of\nbeing joined with: However he thought it not improper to make some\nlittle Advance towards him; and accordingly breaking up from his Camp at\n_Cisuentes_, he came back to _Villa viciosa_, a little Town between\n_Cisuentes_ and _Breuhiga_; there he found _Vendome_ ready to attack\nhim, before he could well be prepared for him, but no _English_ to join\nhim, as he had expected; nevertheless, the Battle was hot, and\nobstinately fought; although _Staremberg_ had visibly the Advantage,\nhaving beat the Enemy at least a League from their Cannon; at which Time\nhearing of the Misfortune of _Breuhiga_, and finding himself thereby\nfrustrated of those expected Succours to support him, he made a handsome\nRetreat to _Barcelona_, which in common Calculation is about one\nhundred Leagues, without any Disturbance of an Enemy that seem'd glad to\nbe rid of him. Nevertheless his Baggage having fallen into the Hands of\nthe Enemy, at the Beginning of the Fight, King _Philip_ and the Duke of\n_Vendome_ generously returned it unopen'd, and untouched, in\nacknowledgement of his brave Behaviour.\nI had like to have omitted one material Passage, which I was very\ncredibly informed of; That General _Carpenter_ offered to have gone, and\nhave join'd General _Staremberg_ with the Horse, which was refus'd him.\nThis was certainly an Oversight of the highest Nature; since his going\nwould have strengthen'd _Staremberg_ almost to the Assurance of an\nintire Victory; whereas his Stay was of no manner of Service, but quite\nthe contrary: For, as I said before, the Enemy, by re-mounting the\n_English_ Horse (which perhaps were the compleatest of any Regiment in\nthe World) turn'd, if I may be allowed the Expression, the Strength of\nour Artillery upon our Allies.\nUpon this Retreat of _Staremberg_, and the Surprize at _Breuhiga_, there\nwere great Rejoicings at _Madrid_, and everywhere else, where King\n_Philip's_ Interest prevailed. And indeed it might be said, from that\nDay the Interest of King _Charles_ look'd with a very lowering Aspect. I\nwas still a Prisoner at _la Mancha_, when this News arriv'd; and very\nsensibly affected at that strange Turn of Fortune. I was in bed, when\nthe Express pass'd through the Town, in order to convey it farther; and\nin the Middle of the Night I heard a certain _Spanish_ Don, with whom, a\nlittle before, I had had some little Variance, thundering at my Door,\nendeavouring to burst it open, with, as I had Reason to suppose, no very\nfavourable Design upon me. But my Landlady, who hitherto had always been\nkind and careful, calling Don _Felix_, and some others of my Friends\ntogether, sav'd me from the Fury of his Designs, whatever they were.\nAmong other Expressions of the general Joy upon this Occasion, there was\na Bull-Feast at _la Mancha_; which being much beyond what I saw at\n_Valencia_, I shall here give a Description of. These Bull-Feasts are\nnot so common now in _Spain_ as formerly, King _Philip_ not taking much\nDelight in them. Nevertheless, as soon as it was publish'd here, that\nthere was to be one, no other Discourse was heard; and in the Talk of\nthe Bulls, and the great Preparations for the Feast, Men seem'd to have\nlost, or to have lay'd aside, all Thoughts of the very Occasion. A\nWeek's time was allow'd for the Building of Stalls for the Beasts, and\nScaffolds for the Spectators; and other necessary Preparations for the\nsetting off their Joy with the most suitable Splendour.\nOn the Day appointed for the bringing the Bulls into Town, the\n_Cavalieroes_ mounted their Horses, and, with Spears in their Hands,\nrode out of Town about a League, or somewhat more to meet them: If any\nof the Bulls break from the Drove, and make an Excursion (as they\nfrequently do) the _Cavaliero_ that can make him return again to his\nStation among his Companions, is held in Honour, suitable to the\nDexterity and Address he performs it with. On their Entrance into the\nTown, all the Windows are fill'd with Spectators; a Pope passing in\ngrand Procession could not have more; for what can be more than all? And\nhe or she who should neglect so rare a Show, would give Occasion to have\nhis or her Legitimacy call'd in Question.\nWhen they come to the _Plaza_, where the Stalls and Scaffolds are built,\nand upon which the Feats of Chivalry are to be performed, it is often\nwith a great deal of Difficulty that the Brutes are got in; for there\nare twelve Stalls, one for every Bull, and as their Number grows less by\nthe enstalling of some, the Remainder often prove more untractable and\nunruly: In these Stalls they are kept very dark, to render them fiercer\nfor the Day of Battle.\nOn the first of the Days appointed (for a Bull-Feast commonly lasts\nthree) all the Gentry of the Place, or near adjacent, resort to the\n_Plaza_ in their most gaudy Apparel, every one vieing in making the most\nglorious Appearance. Those in the lower Ranks provide themselves with\nSpears, or a great many small Darts in their Hands, which they fail not\nto cast or dart, whenever the Bull by his Nearness gives them an\nOpportunity. So that the poor Creature may be said to fight, not only\nwith the Tauriro (or Bullhunter, a Person always hired for that Purpose)\nbut with the whole Multitude in the lower Class at least.\nAll being seated, the uppermost Door is open'd first; and as soon as\never the Bull perceives the Light, out he comes, snuffing up the Air,\nand stareing about him, as if in admiration of his attendants; and with\nhis Tail cock'd up, he spurns the Ground with his Forefeet, as if he\nintended a Challenge to his yet unappearing Antagonist. Then at a Door\nappointed for that purpose, enters the Tauriro all in white, holding a\nCloak in one Hand, and a sharp two edged Sword in the other. The Bull no\nsooner sets Eyes upon him, but wildly staring, he moves gently towards\nhim; then gradually mends his pace, till he is come within about the\nspace of twenty Yards of the Tauriro; when, with a sort of Spring, he\nmakes at him with all his might. The Tauriro knowing by frequent\nExperience, that it behoves him to be watchful, slips aside just when\nthe Bull is at him; when casting his Cloak over his Horns, at the same\nMoment he gives him a slash or two, always aiming at the Neck, where\nthere is one particular Place, which if he hit, he knows he shall easily\nbring him to the Ground. I my Self observ'd the truth of this Experiment\nmade upon one of the Bulls, who receiv'd no more than one Cut, which\nhappening upon the fatal Spot, so stun'd him, that he remain'd perfectly\nstupid, the Blood flowing out from the Wound, till after a violent\nTrembling he dropt down stone dead.\nBut this rarely happens, and the poor Creature oftner receives many\nWounds, and numberless Darts, before he dies. Yet whenever he feels a\nfresh Wound either from Dart, Spear, or Sword, his Rage receives\naddition from the Wound, and he pursues his Tauriro with an Increase of\nFury and Violence. And as often as he makes at his Adversary, the\nTauriro takes care with the utmost of his Agility to avoid him, and\nreward his kind Intention with a new Wound.\nSome of their Bulls will play their Parts much better than others: But\nthe best must die. For when they have behav'd themselves with all the\ncommendable Fury possible; if the Tauriro is spent, and fail of doing\nExecution upon him, they set Dogs upon him: Hough him and stick him all\nover with Darts, till with very loss of Blood he puts an end to their\npresent Cruelty.\nWhen dead, a Man brings in two Mules dress'd out with Bells and\nFeathers, and fastening a Rope about his Horns, draws off the Bull with\nthe Shouts and Acclamations of the Spectators; as if the Infidels had\nbeen drove from before _Ceuta_.\nI had almost forgot another very common piece of barbarous Pleasure at\nthese Diversions. The Tauriro will sometimes stick one of their Bull\nSpears fast in the Ground, aslant, but levell'd as near as he can at his\nChest; then presenting himself to the Bull, just before the point of the\nSpear, on his taking his run at the Tauriro, which, as they assur'd me,\nhe always does with his Eyes closed, the Tauriro slips on one side, and\nthe poor Creature runs with a violence often to stick himself, and\nsometimes to break the Spear in his Chest, running away with part of it\ntill he drop.\nThis _Tauriro_ was accounted one of the best in _Spain_; and indeed I\nsaw him mount the back of one of the Bulls, and ride on him, slashing\nand cutting, till he had quite wearied him; at which time dismounting,\nhe kill'd him with much Ease, and to the acclamatory Satisfaction of the\nwhole Concourse: For variety of Cruelty, as well as Dexterity,\nadministers to their Delight.\nThe _Tauriroes_ are very well paid; and in Truth so they ought to be;\nfor they often lose their Lives in the Diversion, as this did the Year\nafter in the way of his Calling. Yet is it a Service of very great\nProfit when they perform dextrously: For when ever they do any Thing\nremarkable, deserving the Notice of the Spectators, they never fail of a\ngenerous Gratification, Money being thrown down to 'em in plenty.\nThis Feast (as they generally do) lasted three Days; the last of which\nwas, in my Opinion, much before either of the other. On this, a young\nGentleman, whose Name was _Don Pedro Ortega_, a Person of great Quality,\nperform'd the Exercise on Horseback. The Seats, if not more crowded,\nwere filled with People of better Fashion, who came from Places at a\ndistance to grace the noble _Tauriro_.\nHe was finely mounted, and made a very graceful Figure; but as when the\nFoot _Tauriro_ engages, the Bull first enters, so in the Contest the\n_Cavaliero_ always makes his Appearance on the _Plaza_ before the Bull.\nHis Steed was a manag'd Horse; mounted on which he made his Entry,\nattended by four Footmen in rich Liveries; who, as soon as their Master\nhad rid round, and paid his Devoirs to all the Spectators, withdrew from\nthe Dangers they left him expos'd to. The _Cavaliero_ having thus made\nhis Bows, and received the repeated Vivas of that vast Concourse,\nmarch'd with a very stately Air to the very middle of the _Plaza_,\nthere standing ready to receive his Enemy at coming out.\nThe Door being open'd, the Bull appeared; and as I thought with a\nfiercer and more threatning Aspect that any of the former. He star'd\naround him for a considerable time, snuffing up the Air, and spurning\nthe Ground, without in the least taking notice of his Antagonist. But at\nlast fixing his Eyes upon him, he made a full run at the _Cavaliero_,\nwhich he most dexterously avoided, and at the same moment of time,\npassing by, he cast a Dart that stuck in his Shoulders. At this the\nShouts and _Vivas_ were repeated; and I observed a Handkerchief wav'd\ntwice or thrice, which, as I afterwards understood, was a Signal from\nthe Lady of his Affections, that she had beheld him with Satisfaction. I\ntook notice that the _Cavaliero_ endeavour'd all he could to keep aside\nthe Bull, for the Advantage of the Stroke, when putting his Horse on a\nfull Career, he threw another Dart, which fix'd in his Side, and so\nenrag'd the Beast, that he seem'd to renew his Attacks with greater\nFury. The _Cavaliero_ had behav'd himself to Admiration, and escap'd\nmany Dangers; with the often repeated Acclamations of _Viva, Viva_; when\nat last the enraged Creature getting his Horns between the Horse's\nhinder Legs, Man and Horse came both together to the Ground.\nI expected at that Moment nothing less than Death could be the Issue;\nwhen to the general Surprize, as well as mine, the very civil Brute,\nAuthor of all the Mischief, only withdrew to the other Side of the\n_Plaza_, where he stood still, staring about him as if he knew nothing\nof the Matter.\nThe _Cavaliero_ was carry'd off not much hurt, but his delicate Beast\nsuffer'd much more. However I could not but think afterward, that the\ngood natur'd Bull came short of fair Play. If I may be pardon'd the\nExpression, he had us'd his Adversary with more Humanity than he met\nwith; at least, since, after he had the _Cavaliero_ under, he generously\nforsook him; I think he might have pleaded, or others for him, for\nbetter Treatment than he after met with.\nFor as the _Cavaliero_ was disabled and carry'd off, the Foot _Tauriro_\nenter'd in white Accoutrements, as before; but he flatter'd himself with\nan easier Conquest than he found: there is always on these Occasions,\nwhen he apprehends any imminent Danger, a Place of Retreat ready for the\nFoot _Tauriro_; and well for him there was so; this Bull oblig'd him\nover and over to make Use of it. Nor was he able at last to dispatch\nhim, without a general Assistance; for I believe I speak within Compass,\nwhen I say, he had more than an hundred Darts stuck in him. And so\nbarbarously was he mangled, and flash'd besides, that, in my Mind, I\ncould not but think King _Philip_ in the Right, when he said, _That it\nwas a Custom deserv'd little Encouragement_.\nSoon after this _Tauridore_, or Bull-Feast was over, I had a Mind to\ntake a pleasant Walk to a little Town, call'd _Minai_, about three\nLeagues off; but I was scarce got out of _la Mancha_, when an\nAcquaintance meeting me, ask'd where I was going? I told him to _Minai_;\nwhen taking me by the Hand, _Friend_ Gorgio, says he in _Spanish, Come\nback with me; you shall not go a Stride further; there are_ Picarons\n_that Way; you shall not go_. Inquiring, as we went back, into his\nMeaning, he told me, that the Day before, a Man, who had received a Sum\nof Money in Pistoles at _la Mancha_, was, on the road, set upon by some,\nwho had got notice of it, and murdered him; that not finding the Money\nexpected about him (for he had cautiously enough left it in a Friend's\nHands at _la Mancha_) they concluded he had swallowed it; and therefore\nthey ript up his Belly, and open'd every Gut; but all to as little\nPurpose. This diverted my Walk for that time.\nBut some little Time after, the same Person inviting me over to the same\nPlace, to see his Melon-Grounds, which in that Country are wonderful\nfine and pleasant; I accepted his Invitation, and under the Advantage of\nhis Company, went thither. On the Road I took notice of a Cross newly\nerected, and a Multitude of small stones around the Foot of it: Asking\nthe Meaning whereof, my Friend told me, that it was rais'd for a Person\nthere murder'd (as is the Custom throughout _Spain_) and that every good\nCatholick passing by, held it his Duty to cast a Stone upon the Place,\nin Detestation of the Murder. I had often before taken Notice of many\nsuch Crosses: but never till then knew the Meaning of their Erection, or\nthe Reason of the Heaps of Stones around them.\nThere is no Place in all _Spain_ more famous for good Wine than _Sainte\nClemente de la Mancha_; nor is it any where sold cheaper: For as it is\nonly an inland Town, near no navigable River, and the People temperate\nto a Proverb, great Plenty, and a small Vend must consequently make it\ncheap. The Wine here is so famous, that, when I came to _Madrid_, I saw\nwrote over the Doors of host Houses that sold Wine, _Vino Sainte\nClemente_. As to the Temperance of the People, I must say, that\nnotwithstanding those two excellent Qualities of good and cheap, I never\nsaw, all the three Years I was Prisoner there, any one Person overcome\nwith Drinking.\nIt is true, there may be a Reason, and a political one, assign'd for\nthat Abstemiousness of theirs, which is this, That if any Man, upon any\nOccasion, should be brought in as an Evidence against you, if you can\nprove that he was ever drunk, it will invalidate his whole Evidence. I\ncould not but think this a grand Improvement upon the _Spartans_. They\nmade their Slaves purposely drunk, to shew their Youth the Folly of the\nVice by the sottish Behaviour of their Servants under it: But they never\nreach'd to that noble height of laying a Penalty upon the Aggressor, or\nof discouraging a voluntary Impotence of Reason by a disreputable\nImpotence of Interest. The _Spaniard_ therefore, in my Opinion, in this\nexceeds the _Spartan_, as much as a natural Beauty exceeds one procured\nby Art; for tho' Shame may somewhat influence some few, Terrour is of\nforce to deter all. A Man, we have seen it, may shake Hands with Shame;\nbut _Interest_, says another Proverb, _will never lye_. A wise\nInstitution therefore doubtless is this of the _Spaniard_; but such as I\nfear will never take Place in _Germany, Holland, France_, or _Great\nBritain_.\nBut though I commend their Temperance, I would not be thought by any\nMeans to approve of their Bigotry. If there may be such a Thing as\nIntemperance in Religion, I much fear their Ebriety in that will be\nfound to be over-measure. Under the notion of Devotion, I have seen Men\namong 'em, and of Sense too, guilty of the grossest Intemperancies. It\nis too common to be a rarity to see their Dons of the prime Quality as\nwell as those of the lower Ranks, upon meeting a Priest in the open\nStreets, condescend to take up the lower part of his Vestment, and\nsalute it with Eyes erected as if they look'd upon it as the Seal of\nSalvation.\nWhen the _Ave-Bell_ is heard, the Hearer must down on his Knees upon the\nvery Spot; nor is he allowed the small Indulgence of deferring a\nlittle, till he can recover a clean Place; Dirtiness excuses not, nor\nwill dirty Actions by any means exempt. This is so notorious, that even\nat the Play-house, in the middle of a Scene, on the first sound of the\nBell, the Actors drop their Discourse, the Auditors supersede the\nindulging of their unsanctified Ears, and all on their Hearts, quite a\ndifferent way, to what they just before had been employ'd in. In short,\ntho' they pretend in all this to an extraordinary Measure of Zeal and\nreal Devotion; no Man, that lives among them any time, can be a\nProselyte to them without immolating his Senses and his Reason: Yet I\nmust confess, while I have seen them thus deludeing themselves with _Ave\nMarias_, I you'd not refrain throwing up my Eyes to the only proper\nObject of Adoration, in commiseration of such Delusions.\nThe Hours of the _Ave Bell_, are eight and twelve in the Morning, and\nsix in the Evening. They pretend at the first to fall down in beg that\nGod would be pleas'd to prosper them in all things they go about that\nDay. At twelve they return Thanks for their Preservation to that time;\nand at six for that of the whole Day. After which, one would think that\nthey imagine themselves at perfect Liberty; and their open Gallantries\nperfectly countenance the Imagination: for tho' Adultery is look'd upon\nas a grievous Crime, and punish'd accordingly; yet Fornication is\nsoftened with the title of a Venial Sin, and they seem to practise it\nunder that Persuasion.\nI found here, what _Erasmus_ ridicules with so much Wit and Delicacy,\nthe custom of burying in a _Franciscan's_ Habit, in mighty request. If\nthey can for that purpose procure an old one at the price of a new one;\nthe Purchaser wil look upon himself a provident Chap, that has secur'd\nto his deceased Friend or Relation, no less than Heaven by that wise\nBargain.\nThe Evening being almost the only time of Enjoyment of Company, or\nConversation, every body in _Spain_ then greedily seeks it; and the\nStreets are at that time crowded like our finest Gardens or most private\nWalks. On one of those Occasions, I met a Don of my Acquaintance walking\nout with his Sisters; and as I thought it became an _English_ Cavalier,\nI saluted him: But to my Surprize he never return'd the Civility. When I\nmet him the Day after, instead of an Apology, as I had flattered my\nself, I received a Reprimand, tho' a very civil one; telling me it was\nthe Custom in _Spain_, nor well taken of any one, that took Notice of\nany who were walking in the Company of Ladies at Night.\nBut a Night or two after, I found by Experience, that if the Men were by\nCustom prohibited taking Notice, Women were not. I was standing at the\nDoor, in the cool of the Evening, when a Woman seemingly genteel,\npassing by, call'd me by my Name, telling me she wanted to speak with\nme: She had her _Mantilio_ on; so that had I had Day-light, I could have\nonly seen one Eye of her. However I walk'd with her a good while,\nwithout being able to discover any thing of her Business, nor pass'd\nthere between us any thing more than a Conversation upon indifferent\nMatters. Nevertheless, at parting she told me she should pass by again\nthe next Evening; and if I would be at the Door, she would give me the\nsame Advantage of a Conversation, That seem'd not to displease me.\nAccordingly the next Night she came, and as before we walk'd together in\nthe privatest parts of the Town: For tho' I knew her not, her Discourse\nwas always entertaining and full of Wit, and her Enquiries not often\nimproper. We had continu'd this Intercourse many Nights together, when\nmy Landlady's Daughter having taken Notice of it, stopt me one Evening,\nand would not allow me to stand at the usual Post of Intelligence,\nsaying, with a good deal of heat, _Don Gorgio, take my Advice; go no\nmore along with that Woman: You may soon be brought home deprived of\nyour Life if you do_. I cannot say, whether she knew her; but this I\nmust say, she was very agreeable in Wit as well as Person. However my\nLandlady and her Daughter took that Opportunity of giving me so many\nInstances of the fatal Issues of such innocent Conversations, (for I\ncould not call it an Intrigue) that apprehensive enough of the Danger,\non laying Circumstances together, I took their Advice, and never went\ninto her Company after.\n_Sainte Clemente de la Mancha_, where I so long remain'd a Prisoner of\nWar, lies in the Road from _Madrid_ to _Valencia_; and the Duke of\n_Vendome_ being ordered to the latter, great Preparations were made for\nhis Entertainment, as he pass'd through. He stay'd here only one Night,\nwhere he was very handsomely treated by the _Corrigidore_. He was a\ntall fair Person, and very fat, and at the time I saw him wore a long\nblack Patch over his left Eye; but on what Occasion I could not learn.\nThe afterwards famous _Alberoni_ (since made a Cardinal) was in his\nAttendance; as indeed the Duke was very rarely without him. I remember\nthat very Day three Weeks, they return'd through the same Place; the\nDuke in his Herse, and _Alberoni_ in a Coach, paying his last Duties.\nThat Duke was a prodigious Lover of Fish, of which having eat over\nheartily at _Veneros_, in the Province of _Valencia_, he took a Surfeit,\nand died in three Days' time. His Corps was carrying to the _Escurial_,\nthere to be buried in the _Panth\u00e6on_ among their Kings.\nThe _Castilians_ have a Privilege by Licence from the Pope, which, if it\ncould have been converted into a Prohibition, might have sav'd that\nDuke's Life: In regard their Country is wholly inland, and the River\n_Tagus_ famous for its Poverty, or rather Barrenness; their Holy Father\nindulges the Natives with the Liberty, in lieu of that dangerous\nEatable, of eating all Lent time the Inwards of Cattle. When I first\nheard this related, I imagin'd, that the Garbidge had been intended, but\nI was soon after this rectify'd, _by Inwards_ (for so expressly says the\nLicence it self) _is meant the Heart, the Liver, and the Feet_.\nThey have here as well as in most other Parts of _Spain, Valencia_\nexcepted, the most wretched Musick in the Universe. Their _Guitars_, if\nnot their _Sole_, are their darling Instruments, and what they most\ndelight in: Tho' in my Opinion our _English_ Sailors are not much amiss\nin giving them the Title of _Strum Strums_.  They are little better than\nour _Jews-harps,_ tho' hardly half so Musical. Yet are they perpetually\nat Nights disturbing their Women with the Noise of them, under the\nnotion and name of Serenadoes. From the Barber to the Grandee the\nInfection spreads, and very often with the same Attendant, Danger: Night\nQuarrels and Rencounters being the frequent Result. The true born\n_Spaniards_ reckon it a part of their Glory, to be jealous of their\nMistresses, which is too often the Forerunner of Murders; at best\nattended with many other very dangerous Inconveniences. And yet bad as\ntheir Musick is, their Dancing is the reverse. I have seen a Country\nGirl manage her Castanets with the graceful Air of a Dutchess, and that\nnot to common Musick; but to Peoples beating or druming a Tune with\ntheir Hands on a Table. I have seen half a Dozen couple at a time dance\nto the like in excellent order.\nI just now distinguish'd, by an Exception, the Music of _Valencia_,\nwhere alone I experienced the use of the Violin; which tho' I cannot, in\nrespect to other Countries, call good; yet in respect to the other parts\nof _Spain_, I must acknowledge it much the best. In my Account of that\nCity, I omitted to speak of it; therefore now to supply that Defect, I\nwill speak of the best I heard, which was on this unfortunate Occasion:\nSeveral Natives of that Country having received Sentence of Death for\ntheir Adherence to King _Charles_, were accordingly ordered to the Place\nof Execution. It is the Custom there, on all such Occasions, for all the\nMusick of the City to meet near the Gallows, and play the most affecting\nand melancholy Airs, to the very approach of the Condemn'd; and really\nthe Musick was so moving, it heightened the Scene of Sorrow, and brought\nCompassion into the Eyes of even Enemies.\nAs to the Condemn'd, they came stript of their own Cloaths, and cover'd\nwith black Frocks, in which they were led along the Streets to the Place\nof Execution, the Friars praying all the way. When they came through any\nStreet, were any public Images were fix'd, they stay'd before 'em some\nreasonable time in Prayer with the Friars. When they are arriv'd at the\nfatal Place, those Fathers leave 'em not, but continue praying and\ngiving them ghostly Encouragement, standing upon the rounds of the\nLadder till they are turn'd off. The Hangman always wears a silver Badge\nof a Ladder to distinguish his Profession: But his manner of executing\nhis Office had somewhat in it too singular to allow of Silence. When he\nhad ty'd fast the Hands of the Criminal, he rested his Knee upon them,\nand with one Hand on the Criminal's Nostrils, to stop his Breath the\nsooner, threw himself off the Ladder along with the dying Party. This he\ndoes to expedite his Fate; tho' considering the Force, I wonder it does\nnot tear Head and Body asunder; which yet I never heard that it did.\nBut to return to _la Mancha_; I had been there now upwards of two Years,\nmuch diverted with the good Humour and Kindness of the Gentlemen, and\ndaily pleased with the Conversation of the Nuns of the Nunnery opposite\nto my Lodgings; when walking one Day alone upon the _Plaza_, I found my\nself accosted by a _Clerico_. At the first Attack, he told me his\nCountry: But added, that he now came from _Madrid_ with a _Potent_, that\nwas his Word, from _Pedro de Dios_, Dean of the Inquisition, to\nendeavour the Conversion of any of the _English_ Prisoners; that being\nan _Irish-man_, as a sort of a Brother, he had conceived a Love for the\n_English_, and therefore more eagerly embraced the Opportunity which the\nHoly Inquisition had put into his Hands for the bringing over to Mother\nChurch as many Hereticks as he could; that having heard a very good\nCharacter of me, he should think himself very happy, if he could be\ninstrumental in my Salvation;\n\"It is very true, continu'd he, I have lately had the good Fortune to\nconvert many; and besides the Candour of my own Disposition, I must tell\nyou, that I have a peculiar knack at Conversion, which very few, if any,\never could resist. I am going upon the same work into _Murcia_; but your\ngood Character is fix'd me in my Resolution of preferring your Salvation\nto that of others.\"\nTo this very long, and no less surprising Address, I only return'd, that\nit being an Affair of moment, it would require some Consideration; and\nthat by the time he return'd from _Murcia_, I might be able to return\nhim a proper Answer. But not at all satisfy'd with this Reply;\n\"Sir,\" says he, \"God Almighty is all-sufficient: This moment is too\nprecious to be lost; he can turn the Heart in the twinkling of an Eye,\nas well as in twenty Years. Hear me then; mind what I say to you: I will\nconvince you immediately. You Hereticks do not believe in\nTransubstantiation, and yet did not our Saviour say in so many Words,\n_Hoc est corpus meum_? And if you don't believe him, don't you give him\nthe Lye? Besides, does not one of the Fatherss ay, _Deus, qui est omnis\nVeritas, non potest dicere falsum_?\"\nHe went on at the same ridiculous rate; which soon convinced me, he was\na thorough Rattle. However, as a _Clerico_, and consequently in this\nCountry, a Man dangerous to disoblige, I invited him home to Dinner;\nwhere when I had brought him, I found I had no way done an unacceptable\nthing; for my Landlady and her Daughter, seeing him to be a Clergyman,\nreceiv'd him with a vast deal of Respect and Pleasure.\nDinner being over, he began to entertain me with a Detail of the many\nwonderful Conversions he had made upon obstinate Hereticks; that he had\nconvinced the most Stubborn, and had such a _Nostrum_, that he would\nundertake to convert any one. Here he began his old round, intermixing\nhis Harangue with such scraps and raw sentences of fustian _Latin_, that\nI grew weary of his Conversation; so pretending some Business of\nconsequence, I took leave, and left him and my Landlady together.\nI did not return till pretty late in the Evening, with Intent to give\nhim Time enough to think his own Visit tedious; but to my great\nSurprize, I found my _Irish_ Missionary still on the Spot, ready to dare\nme to the Encounter, and resolv'd, like a true Son of the Church\nmilitant, to keep last on the Field of Battle. As soon as I had seated\nmy self, he began again to tell me, how good a Character my Landlady had\ngiven me, which had prodigiously increased his Ardour of saving my Soul;\nthat he could not answer it to his own Character, as well as mine, to be\nnegligent; and therefore he had enter'd into a Resolution to stay my\nComing, though it had been later. To all which, I return'd him Abundance\nof Thanks for his good Will, but pleading Indisposition and want of\nRest, after a good deal of civil Impertinence, I once more got rid of\nhim; at least, I took my Leave, and went to Bed, leaving him again\nMaster of the Field; for I understood next Morning, that he stay'd some\nTime after I was gone, with my good Landlady.\nNext Morning the Nuns of the Nunnery opposite, having taken Notice of\nthe _Clerico's_ Ingress, long Visit, and late Egress, sent to know\nwhether he was my Countryman; with many other Questions, which I was not\nthen let into the Secret of. To all which I return'd, that he was no\nCountryman of mine, but an _Irish-man_, and so perfectly a Stranger to\nme, that I knew no more of him than what I had from his own Mouth, that\nhe was going into _Murcia_. What the Meaning of this Enquiry was, I\ncould never learn; but I could not doubt, but it proceeded from their\ngreat Care of their _Vicino_, as they call'd me; a Mark of their Esteem,\nand of which I was not a little proud.\nAs was my usual Custom, I had been taking my Morning Walk, and had not\nbeen long come home in order to Dinner, when in again drops my _Irish\nClerico_; I was confounded, and vexed, and he could not avoid taking\nNotice of it; nevertheless, without the least Alteration of Countenance,\nhe took his Seat; and on my saying, in a cold and indifferent Tone, that\nI imagin'd he had been got to _Murcia_ before this; he reply'd, with a\nnatural Fleer, that truely he was going to _Murcia_, but his Conscience\npricked him, and he did find that he could not go away with any\nSatisfaction, or Peace of Mind, without making me a perfect Convert;\nthat he had plainly discovered in me a good Disposition, and had, for\nthat very Reason, put himself to the Charge of Man and Mule, to the\nBishop of _Cuenca_ for a Licence, under his Hand, for my Conversion: For\nin _Spain_, all private Missionaries are obliged to ask Leave of the\nnext Bishop, before they dare enter upon any Enterprize of this Nature.\nI was more confounded at this last Assurance of the Man than at all\nbefore; and it put me directly upon reflecting, whether any, and what\nInconveniences might ensue, from a Rencounter that I, at first,\nconceiv'd ridiculous, but might now reasonably begin to have more\ndangerous Apprehensions of. I knew, by the Articles of War, all Persons\nare exempted from any Power of the Inquisition; but whether carrying on\na Part in such a Farce, might not admit, or at least be liable to some\ndangerous Construction, was not imprudently now to be considered. Though\nI was not fearful, yet I resolv'd to be cautious. Wherefore not making\nany Answer to his Declaration about the Bishop, he took Notice of it;\nand to raise a Confidence, he found expiring, began to tell me, that his\nName was _Murtough Brennan_, that he was born near _Kilkenny_, of a very\nconsiderable Family. This last part indeed, when I came to _Madrid_, I\nfound pretty well confirm'd in a considerable Manner. However, taking\nNotice that he had alter'd his Tone of leaving the Town, and that\ninstead of it, he was advancing somewhat like an Invitation of himself\nto Dinner the next Day, I resolv'd to show my self shy of him; and\nthereupon abruptly, and without taking any Leave, I left the Room, and\nmy Landlady and him together.\nThree or four Days had passed, every one of which, he never fail'd my\nLodgings; not at Dinner Time only, but Night and Morning too; from all\nwhich I began to suspect, that instead of my Conversion, he had fix'd\nupon a Re-conversion of my Landlady. She was not young, yet, for a black\nWoman, handsom enough; and her Daughter very pretty: I entered into a\nResolution to make my Observations, and watch them all at a Distance;\nnevertheless carefully concealing my Jealousy. However, I must confess,\nI was not a little pleas'd, that any Thing could divert my own\nPersecution. He was now no longer my Guest, but my Landlady's, with whom\nI found him so much taken up, that a little Care might frustrate all his\nformer impertinent Importunities on the old Topick.\nBut all my Suspicions were very soon after turn'd into Certainties, in\nthis Manner: I had been abroad, and returning somewhat weary, I went to\nmy Chamber, to take, what in that Country they call, a _Cesto_, upon my\nBed: I got in unseen, or without seeing any Body, but had scarce laid my\nself down, before my young Landlady, as I jestingly us'd to call the\nDaughter, rushing into my Room, threw her self down on the Floor,\nbitterly exclaiming. I started off my Bed, and immediately running to\nthe Door, who should I meet there but my _Irish Clerico_, without his\nHabit, and in his Shirt? I could not doubt, by _the Dishabill\u00e9_ of the\n_Clerico_, but the young Creature had Reason enough for her Passion,\nwhich render'd me quite unable to master mine; wherefore as he stood\nwith his Back next the Door, I thrust him in that ghostly Plight into\nthe open Street.\nI might, with leisure enough, have repented that precipitate Piece of\nIndiscretion; if it had not been for his bad Character, and the\nfavourable Opinion the Town had conceived of me; for he inordinately\nexclaim'd against me, calling me Heretick, and telling the People, who\nwere soon gathered round him, that coming to my Lodgings on the\ncharitable work of Conversion, I had thus abus'd him, stript him of his\nHabit, and then turn'd him out of Doors. The Nuns, on their hearing the\nOutcries he made, came running to their Grates, to enquire into the\nMatter, and when they understood it, as he was pleas'd to relate it;\nthough they condemn'd my Zeal, they pity'd my Condition. Very well was\nit for me, that I stood more than a little well in the good Opinion of\nthe Town; among the Gentry, by my frequent Conversation, and the\ninferior Sort by my charitable Distributions; for nothing can be more\ndangerous, or a nearer Way to violent Fate, than to insult one of the\nClergy in _Spain_, and especially, for such an one as they entitle a\nHeretick.\nMy old Landlady (I speak in respect to her Daughter) however formerly my\nseeming Friend, came in a violent Passion, and wrenching the Door out of\nmy Hands, opened it, and pull'd her _Clerico_ in; and so soon as she had\ndone this, she took his Part, and railed so bitterly at me, that I had\nno Reason longer to doubt her thorough Conversion, under the full Power\nof his Mission. However the young one stood her Ground, and by all her\nExpressions, gave her many Inquirers Reason enough to believe, all was\nnot Matter of Faith that the _Clerico_ had advanced. Nevertheless,\nholding it adviseable to change my Lodgings, and a Friend confirming my\nResolutions, I removed that Night.\nThe _Clerico_ having put on his upper Garments, was run away to the\n_Corrigidor_, in a violent Fury, resolving to be early, as well knowing,\nthat he who tells his Story first, has the Prospect of telling it to\ndouble Advantage. When he came there, he told that Officer a thousand\nidle Stories, and in the worst Manner; repeating how I had abus'd him,\nand not him only, but my poor Landlady, for taking his Part. The\n_Corrigidor_ was glad to hear it all, and with an officious Ear fish'd\nfor a great deal more; expecting, according to Usage, at last to squeeze\na Sum of Money out of me. However he told the _Clerico_, that, as I was\na Prisoner of War, he had no direct Power over me; but if he would\nimmediately write to the President _Ronquillo_, at _Madrid_, he would\nnot fail to give his immediate Orders, according to which he would as\nreadily act against me.\nThe _Clerico_ resolv'd to pursue his old Maxim and cry out first; and so\ntaking the _Corrigidor's_ Advice, he wrote away to _Madrid_ directly. In\nthe mean Time the People in the Town, both high and low, some out of\nCuriosity, some out of Friendship, pursu'd their Enquiries into the\nReality of the Facts. The old Landlady they could make little of to my\nAdvantage; but whenever the young one came to the Question, she always\nleft them with these Words in her Mouth, _El Diabolo en forma del\nClerico_, which rendring Things more than a little cloudy on the\n_Clerico's_ Side, he was advis'd and press'd by his few Friends, as fast\nas he could to get out of Town; Nuns, Clergy, and every Body taking\nPart against him, excepting his new Convert, my old Landlady.\nThe Day after, as I was sitting with a Friend at my new Quarters,\n_Maria_ (for that was the Name of my Landlady's Daughter) came running\nin with these Words in her Mouth, _El Clerico, el Clerico, passa la\nCalle_. We hasten'd to the Window, out of which we beheld the _Clerico,\nMurtough Brennan_, pitifully mounted on the Back of a very poor Ass (for\nthey would neither let, nor lend him a Mule through all the Town) his\nLegs almost rested on the Ground, for he was lusty, as his Ass was\nlittle; and a Fellow with a large Cudgel march'd a-foot, driving his Ass\nalong. Never did _Sancha Pancha_, on his Embassage to _Dulcinea_, make\nsuch a despicable, out of the way Figure, as our _Clerico_ did at this\nTime. And what increas'd our Mirth was, their telling me, that our\n_Clerico_, like that Squire (tho' upon his own Priest-Errantry) was\nactually on his March to _Toboso_, a Place five Leagues off, famous for\nthe Nativity of _Dulcinea_, The Object of the Passion of that celebrated\nHero _Don Quixot_. So I will leave our _Clerico_ on his Journey to\n_Murcia_, to relate the unhappy Sequel of this ridiculous Affair.\nI have before said, that, by the Advice of the _Corrigidor, our Clerico_\nhad wrote to _Don Ronquillo_ at _Madrid_. About a Fortnight after his\nDeparture from _la Mancha_, I was sitting alone in my new Lodgings, when\ntwo _Alguizils_ (Officers under the _Corrigidor_, and in the Nature of\nour Bailiffs) came into my Room, but very civilly, to tell me, that they\nhad Orders to carry me away to Prison; but at the same Moment they\nadvis'd me, not to be afraid; for they had observed, that the whole Town\nwas concern'd at what the _Corrigidor_ and _Clerico_ had done; adding,\nthat it was their Opinion, that I should find so general a Friendship,\nthat I need not be apprehensive of any Danger. With these plausible\nSpeeches, though I afterwards experienced the Truth of them, I resign'd\nmy self, and went with them to a much closer Confinement.\nI had not been there above a Day or two, before many Gentlemen of the\nPlace sent to me, to assure me, they were heartily afflicted at my\nConfinement, and resolv'd to write in my Favour to _Madrid_; but as it\nwas not safe, nor the Custom in _Spain_, to visit those in my present\nCircumstances, they hoped I would not take it amiss, since they were\nbent to act all in their Power towards my Deliverance; concluding\nhowever with their Advice, that I would not give one _Real of Plata_ to\nthe _Corrigidor_, whom they hated, but confide in their assiduous\nInterposal, Don _Pedro de Ortega_ in particular, the Person that\nperform'd the Part of the _Tauriro_ on Horseback, sometime before, sent\nme Word, he would not fail to write to a Relation of his, of the first\nAccount in _Madrid_, and so represent the Affair, that I should not long\nbe debarr'd my old Acquaintance.\nIt may administer, perhaps, Matter of Wonder, that _Spaniards_,\nGentlemen of the stanchest Punctilio, should make a Scruple and execute\nthemselves from visiting Persons under Confinement, when, according to\nall Christian Acceptation, such a Circumstance would render such a\nVisit, not charitable only but generous. But though Men of vulgar\nSpirits might, from the Narrowness of their Views, form such insipid\nExcuses, those of these Gentlemen, I very well knew, proceeded from much\nmore excusable Topicks. I was committed under the Accusation of having\nabus'd a sacred Person, one of the Clergy; and though, as a Prisoner of\nWar, I might deem my self exempt from the Power of the Inquisition; yet\nhow far one of that Country, visiting a Person, so accused, might be\nesteemed culpable, was a consideration in that dangerous Climate, far\nfrom deserving to be slighted. To me therefore, who well knew the\nCustoms of the Country, and the Temper of its Countrymen, their Excuses\nwere not only allowable, but acceptable also; for, without calling in\nQuestion their Charity, I verily believ'd I might falsely confide in\ntheir Honour.\nAccordingly, after I had been a close Prisoner one Month to a Day, I\nfound the Benefit of these Gentlemen's Promises and Solicitations.\nPursuant to which, an Order was brought for my immediate Discharge;\nnotwithstanding, the new Convert, my old Landlady, did all she could to\nmake her appearing against me effectual, to the Height of her Prejudice\nand Malice, even while the Daughter, as sensible of my Innocence, and\nacting with a much better Conscience, endeavoured as much to justify me,\nagainst both the Threats and Persuasions of the _Corrigidor_, and his\nfew Accomplices, though her own Mother made one.\nAfter Receipt of this Order for my Enlargement, I was mightily press'd\nby Don _Felix_, and others of my Friends, to go to _Madrid_, and enter\nmy Complaint against the _Corrigidor_ and the _Clerico_, as a Thing\nhighly essential to my own future Security. Without asking Leave\ntherefore of the _Corrigidor_, or in the least acquainting him with it,\nI set out from _la Mancha_, and, as I afterwards understood, to the\nterrible Alarm of that griping Officer; who was under the greatest\nConsternation, when he heard I was gone; for as he knew very well, that\nhe had done more than he could justify, he was very apprehensive of any\nComplaint; well knowing, that as he was hated as much as I was beloved,\nhe might assure himself of the Want of that Assistance from the\nGentlemen, which I had experienced.\nSo soon as I arrived at _Madrid_, I made it my Business to enquire out,\nand wait upon Father _Fahy_, Chief of the _Irish College_. He received\nme very courteously; but when I acquainted him with the Treatment I had\nmet with from _Brennan_, and had given him an Account of his other\nscandalous Behaviour, I found he was no Stranger to the Man, or his\nCharacter; for he soon confirm'd to me the Honour _Brennan_ first\nboasted of, his considerable Family, by saying, that scarce an Assize\npassed in his own Country, without two or three of that Name receiving\nat the Gallows the just Reward of their Demerits. In short, not only\nFather _Fahy_, but all the Clergy of that Nation at _Madrid_, readily\nsubscribed to this Character of him, _That he was a Scandal to their\nCountry_.\nAfter this, I had nothing more to do, but to get that Father to go with\nme to _Pedro de Dios_, who was the Head of the _Dominican_ Cloyster, and\nDean of the Inquisition. He readily granted my Request, and when we came\nthere, in a Manner unexpected, represented to the Dean, that having some\ngood Dispositions towards Mother-Church, I had been diverted from them,\nhe feared, by the evil Practices of one _Murtough Brennan_, a Countryman\nof his, tho' a Scandal to his Country; that under a Pretence of seeking\nmy Conversion, he had lay'd himself open in a most beastly Manner, such\nas would have set a Catholick into a vile Opinion of their Religion, and\nmuch more one that was yet a Heretick. The Dean had hardly Patience to\nhear Particulars; but as soon as my Friend had ended his Narration, he\nimmediately gave his Orders, prohibiting _Murtough's_ saying any more\nMasses, either in _Madrid_, or any other Place in _Spain_. This indeed\nwas taking away the poor Wretches sole Subsistence, and putting him just\nupon an Equality with his Demerits.\nI took the same Opportunity to make my Complaints of the _Corrigidor_;\nbut his Term expiring very soon, and a Process being likely to be\nchargeable, I was advised to let it drop. So having effected what I came\nfor, I returned to my old Station at _la Mancha_.\nWhen I came back, I found a new _Corrigidor_, as I had been told there\nwould, by the Dean of the Inquisition, who, at the same Time, advised me\nto wait on him. I did so, soon after my Arrival, and then experienced\nthe Advice to be well intended; the Dean having wrote a Letter to him,\nto order him to treat me with all Manner of Civility. He show'd me the\nvery Letter, and it was in such particular and obliging Terms, that I\ncould not but perceive he had taken a Resolution, if possible, to\neradicate all the evil impressions, that _Murtough's_ Behaviour might\nhave given too great Occasion for. This serv'd to confirm me in an\nObservation that I had long before made, That a Protestant, who will\nprudently keep his Sentiments in his own Breast, may command any Thing\nin _Spain_; where their stiff Bigotry leads 'em naturally into that\nother Mistake, That not to oppose, is to assent. Besides, it is\ngenerally among them, almost a work of Supererogation to be even\ninstrumental in the Conversion of one they call a Heretick. To bring any\nsuch back to what they call Mother Church, nothing shall be spar'd,\nnothing thought too much: And if you have Insincerity enough to give\nthem Hopes, you shall not only live in Ease, but in Pleasure and Plenty.\nI had entertain'd some thoughts on my Journey back, of taking up my old\nQuarters at the Widow's; but found her so intirely converted by her\n_Clerico_, that there wou'd be no room to expect Peace: For which\nReason, with the help of my fair _Vicinos_, and _Don Felix_, I took\nanother, where I had not been long, before I received an unhappy Account\nof _Murtough's_ Conduct in _Murcia_. It seems he had kept his Resolution\nin going thither; where meeting with some of his own Countrymen, though\nhe found 'em stanch good Catholics, he so far inveigled himself into\n'em, that he brought them all into a foul chance for their Lives. There\nwere three of 'em, all Soldiers, in a _Spanish_ Regiment, but in a fit\nof ambitious, though frantick, Zeal: _Murtough_ had wheedled them to go\nalong with him to _Pedro de Dios_, Dean of the Inquisition, to declare\nand acknowledge before him, that they were converted and brought over to\nMother Church, and by him only. The poor Ignorants, thus intic'd, had\nleft their Regiment, of which the Colonel, having notice, sent after\nthem, and they were overtaken on the Road, their _Missionair_ with them.\nBut notwithstanding all his Oratory, nay, even the Discovery of the\nwhole Farce, one of them was hang'd for an Example to the other two.\nIt was not long after my Return before News arriv'd of the Peace; which\nthough they receiv'd with Joy, they could hardly entertain with Belief.\nUpon which, the new _Corrigidor_, with whom I held a better\nCorrespondence than I had done with the old one, desired me to produce\nmy Letters from _England_, that it was true. Never did People give\ngreater Demonstrations of Joy, than they upon this Occasion. It was the\ncommon cry in the Streets, _Paz con Angleterra, con todo Mundo Guerra_;\nAnd my Confirmation did them as much Pleasure as it did Service to me;\nfor is possible, they treated me with more Civility than before.\nBut the Peace soon after being proclaimed, I received Orders to repair\nto _Madrid_, where the rest of the Prisoners taken at _Denia_ had been\ncarried; when I, by reason of my Wounds, and want of Health, had been\nleft behind. Others I understood lay ready, and some were on their March\nto _Bayone_ in _France_; where Ships were ordered for their\nTransportation into _England_. So after a Residence of three Years and\nthree Months; having taken leave of all my Acquaintance, I left a Place,\nthat was almost become natural to me, the delicious _Sainte Clemente de\nla Mancha_.\nNothing of Moment, or worth observing, met I with, till I came near\n_Ocanna_; and there occurred a Sight ridiculous enough. The Knight of\nthe Town, I last came from, the ever renown'd _Don Quixot_, never made\nsuch a Figure as a _Spaniard_, I there met on the Road. He was mounted\non a Mule of the largest size, and yet no way unsizeable to his Person:\nHe had two Pistols in his Holsters, and one on each side stuck in his\nBelt; a sort of large Blunderbuss in one of his Hands, and the fellow to\nit slung over his Shoulders hung at his Back. All these were accompany'd\nwith a right _Spanish Spado_, and an Attendant _Stiletto_, in their\ncustomary Position. The Muletier that was my guide, calling out to him\nin _Spanish_, told him he was very well arm'd; to which, with a great\ndeal of Gravity, the Don returned Answer, _by Saint Jago a Man cannot be\ntoo well arm'd in such dangerous Times_.\nI took up my Quarters that Night at _Ocanna_, a large, neat, and well\nbuilt Town. Houses of good Reception, and Entertainment, are very scarce\nall over _Spain_; but that, where I then lay, might have pass'd for good\nin any other Country. Yet it gave me a Notion quite different to what I\nfound: for I imagined it to proceed from my near Approach to the\nCapital. But instead of that, contrary to all other Countries, the\nnearer I came to _Madrid_, the Houses of Entertainment grew worse and\nworse; not in their Rates do I mean (for that with Reason enough might\nhave been expected) but even in their Provision, and Places and way of\nReception, I could not however forbear smiling at the Reason given by my\nMuletier, that it proceeded from a piece of Court Policy, in Order to\noblige all Travellers to hasten to _Madrid_.\nTwo small Leagues from _Ocanna_ we arrived at _Aranjuez_, a Seat of\nPleasure, which the Kings of _Spain_ commonly select for their place of\nResidence during the Months of _April and May_. It is distant from\n_Madrid_ about seven Leagues; and the Country round is the pleasantest\nin all _Spain, Valencia_ excepted. The House it self makes but a very\nindifferent Appearance; I have seen many a better in _England_, with an\nOwner to it of no more than five hundred Pounds _per Annum_; yet the\nGardens are large and fine; or as the _Spaniards_ say, the finest in all\n_Spain_, which with them is all the World. They tell you at the same\nTime, that those of _Versailles_, in their most beautiful Parts, took\ntheir Model from these. I never saw those at _Versailles_: But in my\nOpinion, the Walks at _Aranjuez_, tho' noble in their length, lose much\nof their Beauty by their Narrowness.\nThe Water-works here are a great Curiosity; to which the River _Tagus_\nrunning along close by, does mightily contribute. That River is let into\nthe Gardens by a vast number of little Canals, which with their\npleasing _M\u00e6anders_ divert the Eye with inexpressible Delight. These\npretty Wanderers by Pipes properly plac'd in them, afford Varieties\nscarce to be believ'd or imagin'd; and which would be grateful in any\nClimate; but much more, where the Air, as it does here, wants in the\nSummer Months perpetual cooling.\nTo see a spreading Tree, as growing in its natural Soil, distinguish'd\nfrom its pineing Neighbourhood by a gentle refreshing Shower, which\nappears softly distilling from every Branch and Leaf thereof, while\nNature all around is smiling, without one liquid sign of Sorrow, to me\nappear'd surprizingly pleasing. And the more when I observ'd that its\nNeighbours receiv'd not any the least Benefit of that plentiful\nEffusion; And yet a very few Trees distant, you should find a dozen\ntogether under the same healthful _Sudor_. Where art imitates Nature\nwell, Philosophers hold it a Perfection: Then what must she exact of us,\nwhere we find her transcendent in the Perfections of Nature?\nThe watry Arch is nothing less surprizing; where Art contending with\nNature, acts against the Laws of Nature, and yet is beautiful. To see a\nLiquid Stream vaulting it self from the space of threescore Yards into a\nperfect Semi-Orb, will be granted by the Curious to be rare and strange:\nBut sure to walk beneath that Arch, and see the Waters flowing over your\nHead, without your receiving the minutest Drop, is stranger, if not\nstrange enough to stagger all Belief.\nThe Story of _Act\u00e6on_, pictur'd in Water Colours, if I may so express my\nself, tho' pretty, seem'd to me, but trifling to the other. Those seem'd\nto be like Nature miraculously displayed; this only Fable in Grotesque.\nThe Figures indeed were not only fine, but extraordinary; yet their\nvarious Shapes were not at all so entertaining to the Mind, however\nrefreshing they might be found to the Body.\nI took notice before of the straitness of their Walks: But tho' to me it\nmight seem a Diminution of their Beauty: I am apt to believe to the\n_Spaniard_, for and by whom they were laid out, it may seem otherwise.\nThey, of both Sexes, give themselves so intolerably up to Amouring, that\non that Account the Closeness of the Walks may be look'd upon as an\nAdvantage rather than a Defect. The grand Avenue to the House is much\nmore stately, and compos'd as they are, of Rows of Trees, somewhat\nlarger than our largest Limes, whose Leaves are all of a perfect Pea\nbloom Colour, together with their Grandeur, they strike the Eye with a\npleasing Beauty. At the Entrance of the Grand Court we see the Statue of\n_Philip_ the Second; to intimate to the Spectators, I suppose, that he\nwas the Founder.\nAmong other Parks about _Aranjuez_ there is one intirely preserved for\nDromedaries; an useful Creature for Fatigue, Burden, and Dispatch; but\nthe nearest of kin to Deformity of any I ever saw. There are several\nother enclosures for several sorts of strange and wild Beasts, which are\nsometimes baited in a very large Pond, that was shown me about half a\nLeague from hence. This is no ordinary Diversion: but when the Court is\ndisposed that way, the Beast, or Beasts, whether Bear, Lyon, or Tyger,\nare convey'd into a House prepar'd for that purpose; whence he can no\nother way issue than by a Door over the Water, through, or over, which\nforcing or flinging himself, he gradually finds himself descend into the\nvery depth of the Pond by a wooden Declivity. The Dogs stand ready on\nthe Banks, and so soon as ever they spye their Enemy, rush all at once\ninto the Water, and engage him. A Diversion less to be complain'd of\nthan their _Tauridores_; because attended with less Cruelty to the\nBeast, as well as Danger to the Spectators.\nWhen we arrived at _Madrid_, a Town much spoken of by Natives, as well\nas Strangers, tho' I had seen it before, I could hardly restrain my self\nfrom being surprized to find it only environ'd with Mud Walls. It may\nvery easily be imagin'd, they were never intended for Defence, and yet\nit was a long time before I could find any other use, or rather any use\nat all in 'em. And yet I was at last convinc'd of my Error by a sensible\nIncrease of Expence. Without the Gates, to half a League without the\nTown, you have Wine for two Pence the Quart; but within the Place, you\ndrink it little cheaper than you may in _London_. The Mud Walls\ntherefore well enough answer their Intent of forcing People to reside\nthere, under pretence of Security; but in reality to be tax'd, for other\nThings are taxable, as well as Wine, tho' not in like Proportion.\nAll Embassadors have a Claim or Privilege, of bringing in what Wine\nthey please Tax-free; and the King, to wave it, will at any Time\npurchase that Exemption of Duty at the price of five hundred Pistoles\n_per Annum_. The Convents and Nunneries are allowed a like Licence of\nfree Importation; and it is one of the first Advantages they can boast\nof; for, under that Licence having a liberty of setting up a Tavern near\nthem, they make a prodigious Advantage of it. The Wine drank and sold in\nthis Place, is for the most part a sort of white Wine.\nBut if the Mud Walls gave me at first but a faint Idea of the Place; I\nwas pleasingly disappointed, as soon as I enter'd the Gates. The Town\nthen show'd itself well built, and of Brick, and the Streets wide, long,\nand spacious. Those of _Atocha_, and _Alcala_, are as fine as any I ever\nsaw; yet is it situated but very indifferently: For tho' they have what\nthey call a River, to which they give the very fair Name of _la\nMansuera_, and over which they have built a curious, long, and large\nStone Bridge; yet is the Course of it, in Summer time especially, mostly\ndry. This gave occasion to that piece of Railery of a Foreign\nEmbassador, _That the King would have don wisely to have bought a River,\nbefore he built the Bridge_. Nevertheless, that little Stream of a River\nwhich they boast of, they improve as much as possible; since down the\nSides, as far as you can see, there are Coops, or little Places hooped\nin, for People to wash their Linen (for they very rarely wash in their\nown Houses) nor is it really an unpleasing Sight, to view the regular\nRows of them at that cleanly Operation.\nThe King has here two Palaces; one within the Town, the other near\nadjoining. That in the Town is built of Stone, the other which is called\n_Bueno Retiro_, is all of Brick. From the Town to this last, in Summer\ntime, there is a large covering of Canvas, propt up with tall Poles;\nunder which People walk to avoid the scorching heats of the Sun.\nAs I was passing by the Chapel of the _Carmelites_, I saw several blind\nMen, some led, some groping the Way with their Sticks, going into the\nChapel. I had the curiosity to know the Reason; I no sooner enter'd the\nDoor, but was surprized to see such a number of those unfortunate\nPeople, all kneeling before the Altar, some kissing the Ground, others\nholding up their Heads, crying out _Misericordia_. I was informed 'twas\nSaint _Lucy's_ Day, the Patroness of the Blind; therefore all who were\nable, came upon that Day to pay their Devotion: So I left them, and\ndirected my Course towards the King's Palace.\nWhen I came to the outward Court, I met with a _Spanish_ Gentleman of my\nAcquaintance, and we went into the _Piazza's_; whilst we were talking\nthere, I saw several Gentlemen passing by having Badges on their\nBreasts; some white, some red, and others green: My Friend informed me\nthat there were five Orders of Knighthood in _Spain_. That of the Golden\nFleece was only given to great Princes, but the other four to private\nGentlemen, _viz_. That of _Saint Jago, Alacantara, Saint Salvador de\nMontreal_, and _Monteza_.\nHe likewise told me, that there were above ninety Places of Grandees,\nbut never filled up; who have the Privilege of being cover'd in the\nPresence of the King, and are distinguished into three Ranks. The first\nis of those who cover themselves before they speak to the King. The\nsecond are those who put on their Hats after they have begun to speak.\nThe third are those who only put on their Hats, having spoke to him. The\nLadies of the Grandees have also great Respect show'd them. The Queen\nrises up when they enter the Chamber, and offers them Cushions.\nNo married Man except the King lies in the Palace, for all the Women who\nlive there are Widows, or Maids of Honour to the Queen. I saw the Prince\nof _Asturia's_ Dinner carried through the Court up to him, being guarded\nby four Gentlemen of the Guards, one before, another behind, and one on\neach Side, with their Carbines shoulder'd; the Queen's came next, and\nthe King's the last, guarded as before, for they always dine separately.\nI observed that the Gentlemen of the Guards, though not on Duty, yet\nthey are obliged to wear their Carbine Belts.\n_SAINT Isodore_, who from a poor labouring Man, by his Sanctity of Life\narrived to the Title of _Saint_, is the Patron of _Madrid_, and has a\nChurch dedicated to him, which is richly adorned within. The Sovereign\nCourt of the Inquisition is held at _Madrid_, the President whereof is\ncalled the Inquisitor General. They judge without allowing any Appeal\nfor four Sorts of Crimes, _viz_. Heresy, Polygamy, Sodomy and\nWitchcraft, and when any are convicted, 'tis called the Act of Faith.\nMost People believe that the King's greatest Revenue consists in the\nGold and Silver brought from the West Indies (which is a mistake) for\nmost Part of that Wealth belongs to Merchants and others, that pay the\nWorkmen at the Golden Mines of _Potosi_, and the Silver Mines at\n_Mexico_; yet the King, as I have been informed, receives about a\nMillion and a half of Gold.\nThe _Spaniards_ have a Saying, that the finest Garden of Fruit in\n_Spain_ is in the middle of _Madrid_, which is the _Plaza_ or Market\nPlace, and truly the Stalls there are set forth with such variety of\ndelicious fruit, that I must confess I never saw any Place comparable to\nit; and which adds to my Admiration, there are no Gardens or Orchards of\nFruit within some Leagues.\nThey seldom eat Hares in _Spain_ but whilst the Grapes are growing, and\nthen they are so exceeding fat, they are knocked down with Sticks. Their\nRabits are not so good as ours in _England_; they have great plenty of\nPatridges, which are larger and finer feather'd than ours. They have but\nlittle Beef in _Spain_, because there is no Grass, but they have plenty\nof Mutton, and exceeding good, because their Sheep feed only upon wild\nPotherbs; their Pork is delicious, their Hogs feeding only upon\nChestnuts and Acorns.\n_MADRID_ and _Valladolid_, though Great, yet are only accounted\nVillages: In the latter _Philip_ the Second, by the persuasion of\n_Parsons_ an _English_ Jesuit, erected an _English_ Seminary; and\n_Philip_ the Fourth built a most noble Palace, with extraordinary fine\nGardens. They say that _Christopher Columbus_, who first discover'd the\nWest Indies, dyed there, tho' I have heard he lies buried, and has a\nMonument at _Sevil_.\nThe Palace in the Town stands upon eleven Arches, under every one of\nwhich there are Shops, which degrade it to a meer Exchange.\nNevertheless, the Stairs by which you ascend up to the Guard Room (which\nis very spacious too) are stately, large, and curious. So soon as you\nhave pass'd the Guard Room, you enter into a long and noble Gallery, the\nright Hand whereof leads to the King's Apartment, the left to the\nQueen's. Entring into the King's Apartment you soon arrive at a large\nRoom, where he keeps his _Levee_; on one side whereof (for it takes up\nthe whole Side) is painted the fatal Battle of _Almanza_. I confess the\nView somewhat affected me, tho' so long after; and brought to Mind many\nold Passages. However, the Reflection concluded thus in favour of the\n_Spaniard_, that we ought to excuse their Vanity in so exposing under a\n_French_ General, a Victory, which was the only material one the\n_Spaniards_ could ever boast of over an _English_ Army.\nIn this State Room, when the King first appears, every Person present,\nreceives him with a profound Homage: After which turning from the\nCompany to a large Velvet Chair, by which stands the Father Confessor,\nhe kneels down, and remains some Time at his Devotion; which being over,\nhe rising crosses himself, and his Father Confessor having with the\nmotion of his Hand intimated his Benediction, he then gives Audience to\nall that attend for that purpose. He receives every Body with a seeming\nComplaisance; and with an Air more resembling the French than the\n_Spanish_ Ceremony. Petitions to the King, as with us, are delivered\ninto the Hands of the Secretary of State: Yet in one Particular they\nare, in my Opinion, worthy the Imitation of other Courts; the Petitioner\nis directly told, what Day he must come for an Answer to the Office; at\nwhich Time he is sure, without any further fruitless Attendance, not to\nfail of it. The Audience being over, the King returns through the\nGallery to his own Apartment.\nI cannot here omit an accidental Conversation, that pass'd between\nGeneral _Mahoni_ and my self in this Place. After some talk of the\nBravery of the _English_ Nation, he made mention of General _Stanhope_,\nwith a very peculiar _Emphasis_.\n\"But,\" says he, \"I never was so put to the Nonplus in all my Days, as\nthat General once put me in. I was on the road from _Paris to Madrid_,\nand having notice, that that General was going just the Reverse, and\nthat in all likelyhood we should meet the next day: Before my setting\nout in the Morning, I took care to order my gayest Regimental Apparel,\nresolving to make the best Appearance I could to receive so great a Man.\nI had not travell'd above four Hours before I saw two Gentlemen, who\nappearing to be _English_, it induc'd me to imagine they were\nForerunners, and some of his Retinue. But how abash'd and confounded was\nI? when putting the Question to one of 'em, he made answer, _Sir, I am\nthe Person_. Never did Moderation put Vanity more out of Countenance:\nTho' to say Truth, I cou'd not but think his Dress as much too plain\nfor General _Stanhope_, as I at that juncture thought my own too gay for\n_Mahoni_. But,\" added he, \"that great Man had too many inward great\nEndowments to stand in need of any outside Decoration.\"\nOf all Diversions the King takes most delight in that of Shooting, which\nhe performs with great Exactness and Dexterity. I have seen him divert\nhimself at Swallow shooting (by all, I think allow'd to be the most\ndifficult) and exceeding all I ever saw. The last time I had the Honour\nto see him, was on his Return from that Exercise. He had been abroad\nwith the Duke of _Medina Sidonia_, and alighted out of his Coach at a\nback Door of the Palace, with three or four Birds in his Hand, which\naccording to his usual Custom, he carried up to the Queen with his own\nHands.\nThere are two Play-houses in _Madrid_, at both which they act every Day;\nbut their Actors, and their Music, are almost too indifferent to be\nmentioned. The Theatre at the _Bueno Retiro_ is much the best; but as\nmuch inferior to ours at _London_, as those at _Madrid_ are to that. I\nwas at one Play, when both King and Queen were present. There was a\nsplendid Audience, and a great Concourse of Ladies; but the latter, as\nis the Custom there, having Lattices before them, the Appearance lost\nmost of its Lustre. One very remarkable Thing happen'd, while I was\nthere; the _Ave-Bell_ rung in the Middle of an Act, when down on their\nKnees fell every Body, even the Players on the Stage, in the Middle of\ntheir Harangue. They remained for some Time at their Devotion; then up\nthey rose, and returned to the Business they were before engag'd in,\nbeginning where they left off.\nThe Ladies of Quality make their Visits in grand State and Decorum. The\nLady Visitant is carry'd in a Chair by four Men; the two first, in all\nWeathers, always bare. Two others walk as a Guard, one on each Side;\nanother carrying a large Lanthorn for fear of being benighted; then\nfollows a Coach drawn by six Mules, with her Women, and after that\nanother with her Gentlemen; several Servants walking after, more or\nless, according to the Quality of the Person. They never suffer their\nServants to over load a Coach, as is frequently seen with us, neither do\nCoachmen or Chairmen go or drive as if they carried Midwives in lieu of\nLadies. On the contrary, they affect a Motion so slow and so stately,\nthat you would rather imagine the Ladies were every one of them near\ntheir Time, and very apprehensive of a Miscarriage.\nI remember not to have seen here any Horses in any Coach, but in the\nKing's, or an Embassador's; which can only proceed from Custom; for\ncertainly finer Horses are not to be found in the World.\nAt the Time of my being here, Cardinal _Giudici_ was at _Madrid_; he was\na tall, proper, comely Man, and one that made the best Appearance.\n_Alberoni_ was there at the same Time, who, upon the Death of the Duke\nof _Vendome_, had the good Fortune to find the Princess _Ursini_ his\nPatroness. An Instance of whose Ingratitude will plead Pardon for this\nlittle Digression. That Princess first brought _Alberoni_ into Favour at\nCourt. They were both of _Italy_, and that might be one Reason of that\nLady's espousing his Interest: tho' some there are, that assign it to\nthe Recommendation of the Duke of _Vendome_; with whom _Alberoni_ had\nthe Honour to be very intimate, as the other was always distinguish'd by\nthat Princess. Be which it will, certain it is, she was _Alberoni's_\nfirst, and sole Patroness; which gave many People afterwards a very\nsmart Occasion of reflecting upon him, both as to his Integrity and\nGratitude. For, when _Alberoni_, upon the Death of King _Philip's_ first\nQueen, had recommended this present Lady, who was his Countrywoman, (she\nof _Parma_, and he of _Placentia_, both in the same Dukedom) and had\nforwarded her Match with the King, with all possible Assiduity; and when\nthat Princess, pursuant to the Orders she had received from the King,\npassed over into _Italy_ to accompany the Queen Elect into her own\nDominions; _Alberoni_, forgetful of the Hand that first advanced him,\nsent a Letter to the present Queen, just before her Landing, that if she\nresolved to be Queen of _Spain_, she must banish the Princess _Ursini_,\nher Companion, and never let her come to Court. Accordingly that Lady,\nto evince the Extent of her Power, and the Strength of her Resolution,\ndipatch'd that Princess away, on her very Landing, and before she had\nseen the King, under a Detachment of her own Guards, into _France_; and\nall this without either allowing her an Opportunity of justifying her\nself, or assigning the least Reason for so uncommon an Action. But the\nsame _Alberoni_ (though afterwards created Cardinal, and for some Time\nKing _Philip's_ Prime Minion) soon saw that Ingratitude of his rewarded\nin his own Disgrace, at the very same Court.\nI remember, when at _la Mancha_, Don _Felix Pachero_, in a Conversation\nthere, maintain'd, that three Women, at that Time, rul'd the World,\n_viz._ Queen Anne, Madam _Mantenon_, and this Princess _Ursini_.\nFather _Fahy's_ Civilities, when last at _Madrid_, exacting of me some\nsuitable Acknowledgment, I went to pay him a Visit; as to render him due\nThanks for the past, so to give him a further Account of his Countryman\n_Brennan_; but I soon found he did not much incline to hear any Thing\nmore of _Murtough_, not expecting to hear any Good of him; for which\nReason, as soon as I well could, I changed the Conversation to another\nTopick. In which some Word dropping of the Count _de Montery_, I told\nhim, that I heard he had taken Orders, and officiated at Mass: He made\nanswer, it was all very true. And upon my intimating, that I had the\nHonour to serve under him in _Flanders_, on my first entring into\nService, and when he commanded the _Spanish_ Forces at the famous Battle\nof _Seneff_; and adding, that I could not but be surprized, that he, who\nwas then one of the brightest _Cavalieroes_ of the Age, should now be in\nOrders; and that I should look upon it as a mighty Favour barely to\nhave, if it might be, a View of him; he very obligingly told me, that he\nwas very well acquainted with him, and that if I would come the next\nDay, he would not fail to accompany me to the Count's House.\nPunctually at the Time appointed, I waited on Father _Fahy_, who, as he\npromised, carry'd me to the Count's House: He was stepping into his\nCoach just as we got there; but seeing Father _Fahy_, he advanced\ntowards us. The Father deliver'd my Desire in as handsom a Manner as\ncould be, and concluding with the Reason of it, from my having been in\nthat Service under him; he seem'd very well pleas'd, but added, that\nthere were not many beside my self living, who had been in that Service\nwith him. After some other Conversation, he call'd his Gentleman to him,\nand gave him particular Orders to give us a _Frescari_, or in _English_,\nan Entertainment; so taking leave, he went into his Coach, and we to our\n_Frescari_.\nComing from which, Father _Fahi_ made me observe, in the open Street, a\nStone, on which was a visible great Stain of somewhat reddish and like\nBlood.\n\"This,\" said he, \"was occasion'd by the Death of a Countryman of mine,\nwho had the Misfortune to overset a Child, coming out of that House\n(pointing to one opposite to us) the Child frighted, though not hurt, as\nis natural, made a terrible Outcry; upon which its Father coming out in\na violent Rage (notwithstanding my Countryman beg'd Pardon, and pleaded\nSorrow as being only an Accident) stabb'd him to the Heart, and down he\nfell upon that Stone, which to this Day retains the Mark of innocent\nBlood, so rashly shed\".\nHe went on, and told me, the _Spaniard_ immediately took Sanctuary in\nthe Church, whence some Time after he made his Escape. But Escapes of\nthat Nature are so common in _Spain_, that they are not worth wondering\nat. For even though it were for wilful and premeditated Murder, if the\nMurderer have taken Sanctuary, it was never known, that he was delivered\nup to Justice, though demanded; but in some Disguise he makes his\nEscape, or some Way is secured against all the Clamours of Power or\nEquity. I have observed, that some of the greatest Quality stop their\nCoaches over a stinking nasty Puddle, which they often find in the\nStreets, and holding their Heads over the Door, snuff up the nasty Scent\nwhich ascends, believing that 'tis extream healthful; when I was forced\nto hold my Nose, passing by. 'Tis not convenient to walk out early in\nthe Morning, they having no necessary Houses, throw out their Nastiness\nin the Middle of the Street.\nAfter I had taken Leave of Father _Fahy_, and return'd my Thanks for all\nCivilities, I went to pay a Visit to Mr. _Salter_, who was Secretary to\nGeneral _Stanhope_, when the _English_ Forces were made Prisoners of War\nat _Breuhiga_; going up Stairs, I found the Door of his Lodgings a-jar;\nand knocking, a Person came to the Door, who appeared under some\nSurprize at Sight of me. I did not know him, but inquiring if Mr.\n_Salter_ was within; He answered, as I fancy'd, with some Hesitation,\nthat he was but was busy in an inner Room. However, though unask'd, I\nwent in, resolving, since I had found him at home, to wait his Leisure.\nIn a little Time Mr. _Salter_ enter'd the Room; and after customary\nCeremonies, asking my Patience a little longer, he desired I would sit\ndown and bear Ensign _Fanshaw_ Company (for so he call'd him) adding at\ngoing out, he had a little Business that required Dispatch; which being\nover, he would return, and join Company.\nThe Ensign, as he call'd him, appear'd to me under a _Dishabile\u00e9_; and\nthe first Question he ask'd me, was, if I would drink a Glass of\n_English_ Beer? Misled by his Appearance, though I assented, it was with\na Design to treat; which he would be no Means permit; but calling to a\nServant, ordered some in. We sat drinking that Liquor, which to me was a\ngreater Rarity than all the Wine in _Spain_; when in dropt an old\nAcquaintance of mine, Mr. _Le Noy_, Secretary to Colonel _Nevil_. He sat\ndown with us, and before the Glass could go twice round, told Ensign\n_Fanshaw_, That his Colonel gave his humble Service to him, and ordered\nhim to let him know, that he had but threescore Pistoles by him, which\nhe had sent, and which were at his Service, as what he pleas'd more\nshould be, as soon as it came to his Hands.\nAt this I began to look upon my Ensign as another guess Person than I\nhad taken him for; and _Le Noy_ imagining, by our setting cheek by joul\ntogether, that I must be in the Secret, soon after gave him the Title of\nCaptain. This soon convinc'd me, that there was more in the Matter than\nI was yet Master of; for laying Things together, I could not but argue\nwithin my self, that as it seem'd at first, a most incredible Thing,\nthat a Person of his Appearance should have so large Credit, with such a\nComplement at the End of it, without some Disguise, and as from an\nEnsign he was risen to be a Captain, in the taking of one Bottle of\n_English_ Beer; a little Patience would let me into a Farce, in which,\nat present, I had not the Honour to bear any Part but that of a Mute.\nAt last _Le Noy_ took his leave, and as soon as he had left us, and the\nother Bottle was brought in, Ensign _Fanshaw_ began to open his Heart,\nand tell me, who he was. \"I am necessitated,\" said he, \"to be under this\nDisguise, to conceal my self, especially in this Place.\n\"For you must know,\" continued he, \"that when our Forces were Lords of\nthis Town, as we were for a little while, I fell under an Intrigue with\nanother Man's Wife; Her Husband was a Person of considerable Account;\nnevertheless the Wife show'd me all the Favours that a Soldier, under a\nlong and hard Campaigne, could be imagined to ask. In short, her\nRelations got acquainted with our Amour, and knowing that I was among\nthe Prisoners taken at _Breuhiga_, are now upon the Scout and Enquiry,\nto make a Discovery that may be of fatal Consequence. This is the Reason\nof my Disguise; this the unfortunate Occasion of my taking upon me a\nName that does not belong to me.\"\nHe spoke all this with such an Openness of Heart, that in return of so\nmuch Confidence, I confess'd to him, that I had heard of the Affair, for\nthat it had made no little Noise all over the Country; that it highly\nbehoved him to take great Care of himself, since as the Relations on\nboth Sides were considerable, he must consequently be in great Danger;\nThat in Cases of that Nature, no People in the World carry Things to\ngreater Extremities, than the _Spaniards_. He return'd me Thanks for my\ngood Advice, which I understood, in a few Days after, he, with the\nAssistance of his Friends, had taken Care to put in Practice; for he was\nconvey'd away secretly, and afterwards had the Honour to be made a Peer\nof _Ireland_.\nMy Passport being at last sign'd by the Count _de las Torres_, I\nprepared for a Journey, I had long and ardently wish'd for, and set out\nfrom _Madrid_, in the Beginning of _September_, 1712, in Order to return\nto my native Country.\nAccordingly I set forward upon my Journey, but having heard, both before\nand since my being in _Spain_, very famous Things spoken of the\n_Escurial_; though it was a League out of my Road, I resolved to make it\na Visit. And I must confess, when I came there, I was so far from\ncondemning my Curiosity, that I chose to congratulate my good Fortune,\nthat had, at half a Day's Expence, feasted my Eyes with Extraordinaries,\nwhich would have justify'd a Twelve-months' Journey on purpose.\nThe Structure is intirely magnificent, beyond any Thing I ever saw, or\nany Thing my Imagination could frame. It is composed of eleven several\nQuadrangles, with noble Cloisters round every one of them. The Front to\nthe West is adorn'd with three stately Gates; every one of a different\nModel, yet every one the Model of nicest Architecture. The Middlemost of\nthe three leads into a fine Chapel of the _Hieronomites_, as they call\nthem; in which are entertain'd one hundred and fifty Monks. At every of\nthe four Corners of this august Fabrick, there is a Turret of excellent\nWorkmanship, which yields to the Whole an extraordinary Air of Grandure.\nThe King's Palace is on the North, nearest that Mountain, whence the\nStone it is built of was hew'n; and all the South Part is set off with\nmany Galleries, both beautiful and sumptuous.\nThis prodigious Pile, which, as I have said, exceeds all that I ever\nsaw; and which would ask, of it self, a Volume to particularize, was\nbuilt by _Philip_ the Second. He lay'd the first Stone, yet liv'd to see\nit finished; and lies buryed in the _Panth\u00e6on_, a Part of it, set apart\nfor the Burial-place of succeeding Princes, as well as himself. It was\ndedicated to Saint _Laurence_, in the very Foundation; and therefore\nbuilt in the Shape of a Gridiron, the Instrument of that Martyr's\nExecution; and in Memory of a great Victory obtained on that Saint's\nDay. The Stone of which it is built, contrary to the common Course,\ngrows whiter by Age; and the Quarry, whence it was dug, lies near\nenough, if it had Sense or Ambition, to grow enamour'd of its own\nwonderful Production. Some there are, who stick not to assign this\nConvenience, as the main Cause of its Situation; and for my Part, I must\nagree, that I have seen many other Parts of _Spain_, where that glorious\nBuilding would have shone with yet far greater Splendour.\nThere was no Town of any Consequence presented it self in my Way to\n_Burgos_. Here I took up my Quarters that Night; where I met with an\n_Irish_ Priest, whose Name was _White_. As is natural on such\nRencounters, having answered his Enquiry, whither I was going; he very\nkindly told me, he should be very glad of my Company as far as\n_Victoria_, which lay in my Road; and I with equal Frankness embrac'd\nthe Offer.\nNext Morning, when we had mounted our Mules, and were got a little\nDistance from _Burgos_; he began to relate to me a great many impious\nPranks of an _English_ Officer, who had been a Prisoner there a little\nbefore I came; concluding all, with some Vehemence, that he had given\ngreater Occasion of Scandal and Infamy to his native Country, than would\neasily be wiped off, or in a little Time. The Truth of it is, many\nParticularly, which he related to me, were too monstrously vile to admit\nof any Repetition here; and highly meriting that unfortunate End, which\nthat Officer met with some time after. Nevertheless the just Reflection\nmade by that Father, plainly manifested to me the Folly of those\nGentlemen, who, by such Inadvertencies, to say no worse, cause the\nHonour of the Land of their Nativity to be called in question. For tho',\nno doubt, it is a very false Conclusion, from a singular, to conceive a\ngeneral Character; yet in a strange Country, nothing is more common, A\nMan therefore, of common Sense, would carefully avoid all Occasions of\nCensure, if not in respect to himself, yet out of a human Regard to such\nof his Countrymen as may have the Fortune to come after him; and, it's\nmore than probable, may desire to hear a better and juster Character of\ntheir Country, and Countrymen, than he perhaps might incline to leave\nbehind him.\nAs we travelled along, Father _White_ told me, that near the Place of\nour Quartering that Night, there was a Convent of the _Carthusian_\nOrder, which would be well worth my seeing. I was doubly glad to hear\nit, as it was an Order most a Stranger to me; and as I had often heard\nfrom many others, most unaccountable Relations of the Severity of their\nWay of Life, and the very odd Original of their Institution.\nThe next Morning therefore, being _Sunday_, we took a Walk to the\nConvent. It was situated at the Foot of a great Hill, having a pretty\nlittle River running before it. The Hill was naturally cover'd with\nEvergreens of various Sorts; but the very Summit of the Rock was so\nimpending, that one would at first Sight be led to apprehend the\nDestruction of the Convent, from the Fall of it. Notwithstanding all\nwhich, they have very curious and well ordered Gardens; which led me to\nobserve, that, what ever Men may pretend, Pleasure was not incompatible\nwith the most austere Life. And indeed, if I may guess of others by\nthis, no Order in that Church can boast of finer Convents. Their Chapel\nwas completely neat, the Altar of it set out with the utmost\nMagnificence, both as to fine Paintings, and other rich Adornments. The\nBuilding was answerable to the rest; and, in short, nothing seem'd\nomitted, that might render it beautiful or pleasant.\nWhen we had taken a full Survey of all; we, not without some Regret,\nreturn'd to our very indifferent Inn; Where the better to pass away the\nTime, Father _White_ gave me an ample Detail of the Original of that\nOrder. I had before-hand heard somewhat of it; nevertheless, I did not\ncare to interrupt him, because I had a Mind to hear how his Account\nwould agree with what I had already heard.\n     \"_Bruno_,\" said the Father, \"the Author or Founder of this\n     Order, was not originally of this, but of another. He had a\n     holy Brother of the same Order, that was his Cell-mate, or\n     Chamber-fellow, who was reputed by all that ever saw or knew\n     him, for a Person of exalted Piety, and of a most exact holy\n     Life. This man, _Bruno_ had intimately known for many years;\n     and agreed in his Character, that general Consent did him no\n     more than Justice, having never observed any Thing in any of\n     his Actions, that, in his Opinion, could be offensive to God\n     or Man. He was perpetually at his Devotions; and\n     distinguishably remarkable, for never permitting any Thing but\n     pious Ejaculations to proceed out of his Mouth. In short, he\n     was reputed a Saint upon Earth.\n     \"This Man at last dies, and, according to Custom, is removed\n     into the Chapel of the Convent, and there plac'd with a Cross\n     fix'd in his Hands: Soon after which, saying the proper Masses\n     for his Soul, in the Middle of their Devotion, the dead Man\n     lifts up his Head, and with an audible Voice, cry'd out,\n     _Vocatus sum_. The pious Brethren, as any one will easily\n     imagine, were most prodigiously surprised at such an Accident,\n     and therefore they earnestly redoubled their Prayers; when\n     hfting up his Head a second Time, the dead Man cried aloud,\n     _Judicatus sum_. Knowing his former Piety, the pious\n     Fraternity could not then entertain the least doubt of his\n     Felicity; when, to their great Consternation and Confusion, he\n     lifted up his Head a third Time, crying out in a terrible\n     Tone, _Damnatus sum_; upon which they incontinently removed\n     the Corps out of the Chapel, and threw it upon the Dunghill.\n     \"Good _Bruno_, pondering upon these Passages, could not fail\n     of drawing this Conclusion; That if a Person to all Appearance\n     so holy and devout, should miss of Salvation, it behov'd a\n     wise Man to contrive some Way more certain to make his Calling\n     and Election sure. To that Purpose he instituted this strict\n     and severe Order, with an Injunction to them sacred as any\n     Part, that every Professor should always wear Hair Cloth next\n     his Skin, never eat any Flesh; nor speak to one another, only\n     as passing by, to say, _Memento mori_.\"\nThis Account I found to agree pretty well with what I had before heard;\nbut at the same Time, I found the Redouble of it made but just the same\nImpression, it had at first made upon my Heart. However having made it\nmy Observation, that a Spirit the least contradictory, best carries a\nMan through _Spain_; I kept Father White Company, and in Humour, 'till\nwe arrived at _Victoria_. Where he added one Thing, by Way of Appendix,\nin Relation to the _Carthusians_, That every Person of the Society, is\noblig'd every Day to go into their Place of Burial, and take up as much\nEarth, as he can hold at a Grasp with one Hand, in order to prepare his\nGrave.\nNext Day we set out for _Victoria_. It is a sweet, delicious, and\npleasant Town. It received that Name in Memory of a considerable Victory\nthere obtained over the _Moors_. Leaving this Place, I parted with\nFather _White_; he going where his Affairs led him; and I to make the\nbest of my Way to _Bilboa_.\nEntring into _Biscay_, soon after I left _Victoria_, I was at a Loss\nalmost to imagine, what Country I was got into. By my long Stay in\n_Spain_, I thought my self a tolerable Master of the Tongue; yet here I\nfound my self at the utmost Loss to understand Landlord, Landlady, or\nany of the Family. I was told by my Muletier, that they pretend their\nLanguage, as they call it, has continued uncorrupted from the very\nConfusion of _Babel_; though if I might freely give my Opinion in the\nMatter, I should rather take it to be the very Corruption of all that\nConfusion. Another _Rhodomontado_ they have, (for in this they are\nperfect _Spaniards_) that neither _Romans, Carthaginians, Vandals,\nGoths_, or _Moors_, ever totally subdued them. And yet any Man that has\never seen their Country, might cut this Knot without a Hatchet, by\nsaying truly, that neither _Roman, Carthaginian_, nor any victorious\nPeople, thought it worth while to make a Conquest of a Country, so\nmountainous and so barren.\nHowever, _Bilboa_ must be allowed, tho' not very large, to be a pretty,\nclean and neat Town. Here, as in _Amsterdam_, they allow neither Cart,\nnor Coach, to enter; but every Thing of Merchandize is drawn, and\ncarried upon Sledges: And yet it is a Place of no small Account, as to\nTrade; and especially for Iron and Wooll. Here I hop'd to have met with\nan opportunity of Embarking for _England_; but to my Sorrow I found my\nself disappointed, and under that Disappointment, obliged to make the\nbest of my Way to _Bayonne_.\nSetting out for which Place, the first Town of Note that I came to, was\n_Saint Sebastian_. A very clean Town, and neatly pay'd; which is no\nlittle Rarity in _Spain_. It has a very good Wall about it, and a pretty\nCitadel. At this Place I met with two _English_ Officers, who were under\nthe same state with my self; one of them being a Prisoner of War with me\nat _Denia_. They were going to _Bayonne_ to embark for _England_ as well\nas my self; so we agreed to set out together for _Port Passage_. The\nRoad from St. _Sebastian_ is all over a well pav'd Stone Causeway;\nalmost at the end whereof, there accosted us a great number of young\nLasses. They were all prettily dress'd, their long Hair flowing in a\ndecent manner over their Shoulders, and here and there decorated with\nRibbons of various Colours, which wantonly play'd on their Backs with\nthe Wind. The Sight surpriz'd my Fellow Travellers no less than me; and\nthe more, as they advanced directly up to us, and seiz'd our Hands. But\na little time undeceiv'd us, and we found what they came for; and that\ntheir Contest, tho' not so robust as our Oars on the _Thames_, was much\nof the same Nature; each contending who should have us for their Fare.\nFor 'tis here a Custom of Time out of mind, that none but young Women\nshould have the management and profit of that Ferry. And tho' the Ferry\nis over an Arm of the Sea, very broad, and sometimes very rough, those\nfair Ferriers manage themselves with that Dexterity, that the Passage is\nvery little dangerous, and in calm Weather, very pleasant. In short, we\nmade choice of those that best pleased us; who in a grateful Return, led\nus down to their Boat under a sort of Music, which they, walking along,\nmade with their Oars, and which we all thought far from being\ndisagreeable. Thus were we transported over to _Port Passage_; not\nundeservedly accounted the best Harbour in all the Bay of _Biscay_.\nWe stay'd not long here after Landing, resolving, if possible, to reach\n_Fonterabia_ before Night; but all the Expedition we could use, little\navail'd; for before we could reach thither the Gates were shut, and good\nNature and Humanity were so lock'd up with them, that all the Rhetorick\nwe were Masters of could not prevail upon the Governor to order their\nbeing opened; for which Reason we were obliged to take up our Quarters\nat the Ferry House.\nWhen we got up the next Morning, we found the Waters so broad, as well\nas rough, that we began to enquire after another Passage; and were\nanswer'd, that at the Isle of _Conference_, but a short League upwards,\nthe Passage was much shorter, and exposed to less Danger. Such good\nReasons soon determind's us: So, setting out we got there in a very\nlittle Time; and very soon after were landed in _France_. Here we found\na House of very good Entertainment, a Thing we had long wanted, and much\nlamented the want of.\nWe were hardly well seated in the House before we were made sensible,\nthat it was the Custom, which had made it the business of our Host, to\nentertain all his Guests at first coming in, with a prolix Account of\nthat remarkable Interview between the two Kings of _France_ and _Spain_.\nI speak safely now, as being got on _French_ Ground: For the _Spaniard_\nin his own Country would have made me to know, that putting _Spain_\nafter _France_ had there been look'd upon as a meer Solecism in Speech.\nHowever, having refiresh'd our selves, to show our deference to our\nHost's Relation, we agreed to pay our Respects to that famous little\nIsle he mention'd; which indeed, was the whole burden of the Design of\nour crafty Landlord's Relation.\nWhen we came there, we found it a little oval Island, over-run with\nWeeds, and surrounded with Reeds and Rushes.\n     \"Here,\" said our Landlord (for he went with us) \"upon this\n     little Spot, were at that juncture seen the two greatest\n     Monarchs in the Universe. A noble Pavilion was erected in the\n     very middle of it, and in the middle of that was placed a very\n     large oval Table; at which was the Conference, from which the\n     Place receiv'd its Title. There were two Bridges rais'd; one\n     on the _Spanish_ side, the Passage to which was a little upon\n     a Descent by reason of the Hills adjacent; and the other upon\n     the _French_ side, which as you see, was all upon a Level. The\n     Musick playing, and Trumpets sounding, the two Kings, upon a\n     Signal agreed upon, set forward at the same time; the\n     _Spanish_ Monarch handing the _Infanta_ his Daughter to the\n     Place of Interview. As soon as they were enter'd the Pavilion,\n     on each Side, all the Artillery fired, and both Annies after\n     that made their several Vollies. Then the King of _Spain_\n     advancing on his side the Table with the _Infanta_, the King\n     of _France_ advanced at the same Moment on the other; till\n     meeting, he received the _Infanta_ at the Hands of her Father,\n     as his Queen; upon which, both the Artillery and small Arms\n     fir'd as before. After this, was a most splendid and sumptuous\n     Entertainment; which being over, both Kings retir'd into their\n     several Dominions; the King of _France_ conducting his new\n     Queen to _Saint Jean de Luz_, where the Marriage was\n     consummated; and the King of _Spain_ returning to _Port\n     Passage_.\"\nAfter a Relation so very inconsistent with the present State of the\nPlace; we took Horse (for Mule-mounting was now out of Fashion) and rode\nto _Saint Jean de Luz_, where we found as great a difference in our\nEating and Drinking, as we had before done in our Riding. Here they\nmight be properly call'd Houses of Entertainment; tho' generally\nspeaking, till we came to this Place, we met with very mean Fare, and\nwere poorly accommodated in the Houses where we lodged.\nA Person that travels this way, would be esteem'd a Man of a narrow\nCuriosity, who should not desire to see the Chamber where _Louis le\ngrand_ took his first Night's Lodging with his Queen. Accordingly, when\nit was put into my Head, out of an Ambition to evince my self a Person\nof Taste, I asked the Question, and the Favour was granted me, with a\ngreat deal of _French_ Civility. Not that I found any Thing here, more\nthan in the Isle of _Conference_, but what Tradition only had rendered\nremarkable.\n_Saint Jean de Luz_ is esteem'd one of the greatest Village Towns in all\n_France_. It was in the great Church of this Place, that _Lewis_ XIV\naccording to Marriage Articles, took before the high Altar the Oath of\nRenunciation to the Crown of _Spain_, by which all the Issue of that\nMarriage were debarred Inheritance, if Oaths had been obligatory with\nPrinces. The Natives here are reckon'd expert Seamen; especially in\nWhale fishing. Here is a fine Bridge of Wood; in the middle of which is\na Descent, by Steps, into a pretty little Island; where is a Chapel, and\na Palace belonging to the Bishop of _Bayonne_. Here the Queen Dowager of\n_Spain_ often walks to divert herself; and on this Bridge, and in the\nWalks on the Island, I had the Honour to see that Princess more than\nonce.\nThis _Villa_ not being above four Leagues from _Bayonne_, we got there\nby Dinner time, where at an Ordinary of twenty _Sous_, we eat and drank\nin Plenty, and with a _gusto_, much better than in any part of _Spain_;\nwhere for eating much worse, we paid very much more.\n_BAYONNE_ is a Town strong by Nature; yet the Fortifications have been\nvery much neglected, since the building of the Citadel, on the other\nSide the River; which not only commands the Town, but the Harbour too.\nIt is a noble Fabrick; fair and strong, and rais'd on the side of a\nHill, wanting nothing that Art could furnish, to render it impregnable.\nThe Marshal _Bouflers_ had the Care of it in its erection; and there is\na fine Walk near it, from which he us'd to survey the Workmen, which\nstill carries his Name. There are two noble Bridges here, tho' both of\nWood, one over that River which runs on one side the Town; the other\nover that, which divides it in the middle, the Tide runs thro' both with\nvast Rapidity; notwithstanding which, Ships of Burden come up, and\npaying for it, are often fasten'd to the Bridge, while loading or\nunloading. While I was here, there came in four or five _English_ Ships\nladen with Corn, the first, as they told me, that had come in to unlade\nthere, since the beginning of the War.\nOn that Side of the River where the new Citadel is built, at a very\nlittle distance lies _Pont d' Esprit_, a Place mostly inhabited by\n_Jews_, who drive a great Trade there, and are esteemed very rich, tho'\nas in all other Countries mostly very rogueish. Here the Queen Dowager\nof _Spain_ has kept her Court ever since the Jealousy of the present\nKing reclus'd her from _Madrid_. As Aunt to his Competitor _Charles_\n(now Emperor) he apprehended her Intrigueing; for which Reason giving\nher an Option of Retreat, that Princess made choice of this City, much\nto the Advantage of the Place, and in all Appearance much to her own\nSatisfaction. She is a Lady not of the lesser Size; and lives here in\nsuitable Splendour, and not without the Respect due to a Person of her\nhigh Quality: Every time she goes to take the Air, the Cannon of the\nCitadel saluting her, as she passes over the Bridge; and to say Truth,\nthe Country round is extremely pleasant, and abounds in plenty of all\nProvisions; especially in wild Fowl. _Bayonne_ Hams are, to a Proverb,\ncelebrated all over _France_.\nWe waited here near five Months before the expected Transports arrived\nfrom _England_, without any other Amusements, than such as are common to\nPeople under Suspence. Short Tours will not admit of great Varieties;\nand much Acquaintance could not be any way suitable to People, that had\nlong been in a strange Country, and earnestly desired to return to our\nown. Yet one Accident befell me here, that was nearer costing me my\nLife, than all I had before encounter'd, either in Battle or Siege.\nGoing to my Lodgings one Evening, I unfortunately met with an Officer,\nwho would needs have me along with him, aboard one of the _English_\nShips, to drink a Bottle of _English_ Beer. He had been often invited,\nhe said; and I am afraid our Countryman, continued he, will hold himself\nslighted, if I delay it longer. _English_ Beer was a great rarity, and\nthe Vessel lay not at any great distance from my Lodgings; so without\nany further Persuasion I consented. When we came upon the Bridge, to\nwhich the Ship we were to go aboard was fastened, we found, as was\ncustomary, as well as necessary, a Plank laid over from the Ship, and a\nRope to hold by, for safe Passage. The Night was very dark; and I had\ncautiously enough taken care to provide a Man with a Lanthorn to prevent\nCasualties. The Man with the Light went first, and out of his abundant\nComplaisance, my Friend, the Officer, would have me follow the Light:\nBut I was no sooner stept upon the Plank after my Guide, but Rope and\nPlank gave way, and Guide and I tumbled both together into the Water.\nThe Tide was then running in pretty strong: However, my Feet in the Fall\ntouching Ground, gave me an opportunity to recover my self a little; at\nwhich Time I catch'd fast hold of a Buoy, which was plac'd over an\nAnchor on one of the Ships there riding: I held fast, till the Tide\nrising stronger and stronger threw me off my Feet; which gave an\nOpportunity to the poor Fellow, our Lanthorn-bearer, to lay hold of one\nof my Legs, by which he held as fast as I by the Buoy. We had lain thus\nlovingly at Hull together, strugling with the increasing Tide, which,\nwell for us, did not break my hold (for if it had, the Ships which lay\nbreast a breast had certainly sucked us under) when several on the\nBridge, who saw us fall, brought others with Ropes and Lights to our\nAssistance; and especially my Brother Officer, who had been Accessary as\nwell as Spectator of our Calamity; tho' at last a very small Portion of\nour Deliverance fell to his share.\nAs soon as I could feel a Rope, I quitted my hold of the Buoy; but my\npoor Drag at my Heels would not on any account quit his hold of my Leg.\nAnd as it was next to an Impossibility, in that Posture to draw us up\nthe Bridge to save both, if either of us, we must still have perished,\nhad not the Alarm brought off a Boat or two to our Succour, who took us\nin.\nI was carry'd as fast as possible, to a neighbouring House hard by,\nwhere they took immediate care to make a good Fire; and where I had not\nbeen long before our intended Host, the Master of the Ship, came in very\nmuch concern'd, and blaming us for not hailing the Vessel, before we\nmade an Attempt to enter. For, says he, the very Night before, my Vessel\nwas robb'd; and that Plank and Rope were a Trap design'd for the\nThieves, if they came again; not imagining that Men in an honest way\nwould have come on board without asking Questions. Like the wise Men of\nthis World, I hereupon began to form Resolutions against a Thing, which\nwas never again likely to happen; and to draw inferences of Instruction\nfrom an Accident, that had not so much as a Moral for its Foundation.\nOne Day after this, partly out of Business, and partly out of Curiosity,\nI went to see the Mint here, and having taken notice to one of the\nOfficers, that there was a difference in the Impress of their Crown\nPieces, one having at the bottom the Impress of a Cow, and the other\nnone:\n     \"Sir,\" reply'd that Officer, \"you are much in the right in\n     your Observation. Those that have the Cow, were not coin'd\n     here, but at _Paw_, the chief City of _Navarr_; where they\n     enjoy the Privilege of a Mint, as well as we. And Tradition\n     tells,\" says he, \"that the Reason of that Addition to the\n     Impress was this: A certain King of _Navarr_ (when it was a\n     Kingdom distinct from that of _France_) looking out of a\n     Window of the Palace, spy'd a Cow, with her Calf standing\n     aside her, attack'd by a Lyon, which had got loose out of his\n     Menagery. The Lyon strove to get the young Calf into his Paw;\n     the Cow bravely defended her Charge; and so well, that the\n     Lyon at last, tir'd and weary, withdrew, and left her Mistress\n     of the Field of Battle; and her young one. Ever since which,\n     concluded that Officer, by Order of that King, the Cow is\n     plac'd at the bottom of the Impress of all the Money there\n     coined.\"\nWhether or no my Relator guess'd at the Moral, or whether it was Fact, I\ndare not determine; But to me it seem'd apparent, that it was no\notherways intended, than as an emblematical Fable to cover, and preserve\nthe Memory of the Deliverance of _Henry_ the Fourth, then the young\nKing of _Navarr_, at that eternally ignominious Slaughter, the Massacre\nof _Paris_. Many Historians, their own as well as others, agree, that\nthe House of _Guise_ had levell'd the Malice of their Design at that\ngreat Prince. They knew him to be the lawful Heir; but as they knew him\nbred, what they call'd a _Hugonot_, Barbarity and Injustice was easily\nconceal'd under the Cloak of Religion, and the Good of Mother Church,\nunder the veil of Ambition, was held sufficient to postpone the Laws of\nGod and Man. Some of those Historians have deliver'd it as Matter of\nFact, that the Conspirators, in searching after that young King, press'd\ninto the very Apartments of the Queen his Mother; who having, at the\nToll of the Bell, and Cries of the Murder'd, taken the Alarm, on hearing\n'em coming, plac'd her self in her Chair, and cover'd the young King her\nSon with her Farthingale, till they were gone. By which means she found\nan opportunity to convey him to a Place of more Safety; and so preserv'd\nhim from those bloody Murderers, and in them from the Paw of the Lyon.\nThis was only a private Reflection of my own at that Time; but I think\ncarries so great a Face of Probability, that I can see no present Reason\nto reject it. And to have sought after better Information from the\nOfficer of the Mint, had been to sacrifice my Discretion to my\nCuriosity.\nWhile I stay'd at _Bayonne_, the Princess _Ursini_ came thither,\nattended by some of the King of _Spain's_ Guards. She had been to drink\nthe Waters of some famous Spaw in the Neighbourhood, the Name of which\nhas now slipt my Memory. She was most splendidly entertain'd by the\nQueen Dowager of _Spain_; and the Mareschal _de Montrevel_ no less\nsignaliz'd himself in his Reception of that great Lady, who was at that\nInstant the greatest Favourite in the _Spanish_ Court; tho' as I have\nbefore related, she was some Time after basely undermined by a Creature\nof her own advancing.\n_BAYONNE_ is esteem'd the third _Emporium_ of Trade in all _France_. It\nwas once, and remain'd long so, in the Possession of the _English_; of\nwhich had History been silent, the Cathedral Church had afforded evident\nDemonstration; being in every respect of the _English_ Model, and quite\ndifferent to any of their own way of Building in _France_.\n_PAMPELONA_ is the Capital City of the _Spanish Navarr_, supposed to\nhave been built by _Pompey_. 'Tis situated in a pleasant Valley,\nsurrounded by lofty Hills. This Town, whether famous or infamous, was\nthe Cause of the first Institution of the Order of the Jesuits. For at\nthe Siege of this Place _Ignatius Loyola_ being only a private Soldier,\nreceiv'd a shot on his Thigh, which made him uncapable of following that\nProfession any longer; upon which he set his Brains to work, being a\nsubtle Man, and invented the Order of the Jesuits, which has been so\ntroublesome to the World ever since.\nAt _Saint Stephen_ near _Lerida_, an Action happened between the\n_English_ and _Spaniards_, in which Major General _Cunningham_ bravely\nfighting at the Head of his Men, lost his Life, being extreamly much\nlamented. He was a Gentleman of a great Estate, yet left it, to serve\nhis Country; _Dulce est pro Patria Mori_.\nAbout two Leagues from _Victoria_, there is a very pleasant Hermitage\nplac'd upon a small rising Ground, a murmuring Rivulet running at the\nbottom, and a pretty neat Chapel standing near it, in which I saw _Saint\nChristopher_ in a Gigantick Shape, having a _Christo_ on his Shoulders.\nThe Hermit was there at his Devotion, I ask'd him (tho' I knew it\nbefore) the reason why he was represented in so large a Shape: The\nHermit answered with great Civility, and told me, he had his Name from\n_Christo Ferendo_, for when our Saviour was young, he had an inclination\nto pass a River, so _Saint Christopher_ took him on his Shoulders in\norder to carry him over, and as the Water grew deeper and deeper, so he\ngrew higher and higher.\nAt last we received News, that the _Gloucester_ Man of War, with two\nTransports, was arrived at _Port Passage_, in order for the Transporting\nof all the remaining Prisoners of War into _England_. Accordingly they\nmarch'd next Day, and there embark'd. But I having before agreed with a\nMaster of a Vessel, which was loaded with Wine for _Amsterdam_, to set\nme ashoar at _Dover_, stay'd behind, waiting for that Ship, as did that\nfor a fair Wind.\nIn three or four Days' Time, a fine and fair Gale presented; of which\nthe Master taking due Advantage, we sail'd over the Bar into the Bay of\n_Biscay_. This is with Sailors, to a Proverb, reckon'd the roughest of\nSeas; and yet on our Entrance into it, nothing appear'd like it. 'Twas\nsmooth as Glass; a Lady's Face might pass for young, and in its Bloom,\nthat discover'd no more Wrinkles; Yet scarce had we sail'd three\nLeagues, before a prodigious Fish presented it self to our View. As near\nas we could guess, it might be twenty Yards in Length; and it lay\nsporting it self on the surface of the Sea, a great Part appearing out\nof the Water. The Sailors, one and all, as soon as they saw it, declar'd\nit the certain Forerunner of a Storm. However, our Ship kept on its\nCourse, before a fine Gale, till we had near passed over half the Bay;\nwhen, all on a sudden, there was such a hideous Alteration, as makes\nNature recoil on the very Reflection. Those Seas that seem'd before to\nsmile upon us, with the Aspect of a Friend, now in a Moment chang'd\ntheir flattering Countenance into that of an open Enemy; and Frowns, the\nlittle on this Side Death could be the Sequel. The angry Waves cast\nthemselves up into Mountains, and scourg'd the Ship on every Side from\nPoop to Prow: Such Shocks from the contending Wind and Surges! Such\nFalls from Precipices of Water, to dismal Caverns of the same uncertain\nElement! Although the latter seem'd to receive us in Order to skreen us\nfrom the Riot of the former, Imagination could offer no other Advantage\nthan that of a Winding-Sheet, presented and prepared for our approaching\nFate. But why mention I Imagination? In me 'twas wholly dormant. And yet\nthose Sons of stormy Weather, the Sailors, had theirs about them in full\nStretch; for seeing the Wind and Seas so very boisterous, they lash'd\nthe Rudder of the Ship, resolv'd to let her drive, and steer herself;\nsince it was past their Skill to steer her. This was our Way of\nsojourning most Part of that tedious Night; driven where the Winds and\nWaves thought fit to drive us, with all our Sails quite lower'd and flat\nupon the Deck. If _Ovid_, in the little _Archipelagian_ Sea, could whine\nout his _jam jam jacturus_, &c. in this more dismal Scene, and much more\ndangerous Sea (the Pitch-like Darkness of the Night adding to all our\nsad Variety of Woes) what Words in Verse or Prose could serve to paint\nour Passions, or our Expectations? Alas! our only Expectation was in the\nReturn of Morning; It came at last; yet even slowly as it came, when\ncome, we thought it come too soon, a new Scene of sudden Death being all\nthe Advantage of its first Appearance. Our Ship was driving full Speed,\ntowards the _Breakers_ on the _Cabritton_ Shore, between _Burdeaux_ and\n_Bayonne_; which filled us with Ideas more terrible than all before,\nsince those were past, and these seemingly as certain. Beside, to add to\nour Distress, the Tide was driving in, and consequently must drive us\nfast to visible Destruction. A State so evident, that one of our\nSailors, whom great Experience had render'd more sensible of our present\nDanger, was preparing to save one, by lashing himself to the main Mast,\nagainst the expected Minute of Desolation. He was about that melancholy\nWork, in utter Despair of any better Fortune, when, as loud as ever he\ncould bawl, he cry'd out, _a Point, a Point of Wind_. To me, who had had\ntoo much of it, it appear'd like the Sound of the last Trump; but to the\nmore intelligent Crew, it had a different Sound. With Vigour and\nAlacrity they started from their Prayers, or their Despair, and with all\nimaginable Speed, unlash'd the Rudder, and hoisted all their Sails.\nNever sure in Nature did one Minute produce a greater Scene of\nContraries. The more skilful Sailors took Courage at this happy Presage\nof Deliverance. And according to their Expectation did it happen; that\nheavenly Point of Wind deliver'd us from the Jaws of those _Breakers_,\nready open to devour us; and carrying us out to the much more wellcome\nwide Sea, furnished every one in the Ship with Thoughts, as distant as\nwe thought our Danger.\nWe endeavoured to make _Port Passage_; but our Ship became unruly, and\nwould not answer her Helm; for which Reason we were glad to go before\nthe Wind, and make for the Harbour of _Saint Jean de Luz_. This we\nattain'd without any great Difficulty, and to the Satisfaction of all,\nSailors as well as Passengers, we there cast Anchor, after the most\nterrible Storm (as all the oldest Sailors agreed) and as much Danger as\never People escap'd.\nHere I took notice, that the Sailors buoy'd up their Cables with\nHogsheads; enquiring into the Reason of which, they told me, that the\nRocks at the Bottom of the Harbour were by Experience found to be so\nvery sharp, that they would otherwise cut their Cables asunder. Our Ship\nwas obliged to be drawn up into the Dock to be refitted; during which, I\nlay in the Town, where nothing of Moment, or worth reciting, happen'd.\nI beg Pardon for my Errors; the very Movements of Princes must always\nbe considerable, and consequently worth Recital. While the Ship lay in\nthe Dock, I was one Evening walking upon the Bridge, with the little\nIsland near it, (which I have before spoke of) and had a little\n_Spanish_ Dog along with me, when at the further End I spy'd a Lady, and\nthree or four Gentlemen in Company; I kept on my Pace of Leisure, and so\ndid they; but when I came nearer, I found they as much out number'd me\nin the Dog, as they did in the human Kind. And I soon experienced to my\nSorrow, that their Dogs, by their Fierceness and Ill-humour, were Dogs\nof Quality; having, without Warning, or the least Declaration of War,\nfallen upon my little Dog, according to pristine Custom, without any\nhonourable Regard to Size, Interest or Number. However the good Lady,\nwho, by the Privilege of her Sex, must be allow'd the most competent\nJudge of Inequalities, out of an Excess of Condescension and Goodness,\ncame running to the Relief of oppressed poor _Tony_; and, in courtly\nLanguage, rated her own oppressive Dogs for their great Incivility to\nStrangers. The Dogs, in the Middle of their insulting Wrath, obey'd the\nLady with a vast deal of profound Submission; which I could not much\nwonder at, when I understood, that it was a Queen Dowager of _Spain_,\nwho had chid them.\nOur Ship being now repaired, and made fit to go out again to Sea, we\nleft the Harbour of _Saint Jean de Luz_, and with a much better Passage,\nas the last Tempest was still dancing in my Imagination, in ten Days'\nSail we reach'd _Dover_. Here I landed on the last Day of _March_, 1713\nhaving not, till then, seen or touch'd _English_ Shoar from the\nBeginning of _May_, 1705.\nI took Coach directly for _London_, where, when I arriv'd, I thought my\nself transported into a Country more foreign, than any I had either\nfought or pilgrimag'd in. Not foreign, do I mean, in respect to others,\nso much as to it self. I left it, seemingly, under a perfect Unanimity:\nThe fatal Distinctions of _Whig_ and _Tory_ were then esteemed meerly\nnominal; and of no more ill Consequence or Danger, than a Bee robb'd of\nits Sting. The national Concern went on with Vigour, and the prodigious\nSuccess of the Queen's Arms, left every Soul without the least Pretence\nto a Murmur. But now on my Return, I found them on their old\nEstablishment, perfect Contraries, and as unlikely to be brought to\nmeet as direct Angles. Some arraigning, some extolling of a Peace; in\nwhich Time has shown both were wrong, and consequently neither could be\nright in their Notions of it, however an over prejudic'd Way of thinking\nmight draw them into one or the other. But _Whig_ and _Tory_ are, in my\nMind, the compleatest Paradox in Nature, and yet like other Paradoxes,\nold as I am, I live in Hope to see, before I die, those seeming\nContraries perfectly reconcil'd, and reduc'd into one happy Certainty,\nthe Publick Good.\nWhilst I stay'd at _Madrid_, I made several Visits to my old\nAcquaintance General _Mahoni_. I remember that he told me, when the Earl\nof _Peterborow_ and he held a Conference at _Morvidro_, his Lordship\nused many Arguments to induce him to leave the _Spanish_ Service.\n_Mahoni_ made several Excuses, especially that none of his Religion was\nsuffer'd to serve in the _English_ Army. My Lord reply'd, That he would\nundertake to get him excepted by an Act of Parliament. I have often\nheard him speak with great Respect of his Lordship, and was strangely\nsurprized, that after so many glorious Successes he should be sent away.\nHe was likewise pleased to inform me, that at the Battle of _Saragoza_,\n'twas his Fortune to make some of our Horse to give way, and he pursued\nthem for a considerable time; but at his Return, he saw the _Spanish_\nArmy in great Confusion: But it gave him the Opportunity of attacking\nour Battery of Guns; which he performed with great Slaughter, both of\nGunners and Matrosses: He at the same time inquired, who 'twas that\ncommanded there in chief. I informed him 'twas Col. _Bourguard_, one\nthat understood the Oeconomy of the Train exceeding well. As for that,\nhe knew nothing of; but that he would vouch, he behaved himself with\nextraordinary Courage, and defended the Battery to the utmost extremity,\nreceiving several Wounds, and deserved the Post in which he acted. A\nGentleman who was a Prisoner at _Gualaxara_, informed me, that he saw\nKing _Philip_ riding through that Town, being only attended with one of\nhis Guards.\n_Saragoza_, or _C\u00e6sar Augusta_, lies upon the River _Ebro_, being the\nCapital of _Arragon_; 'tis a very ancient City, and contains fourteen\ngreat Churches, and twelve Convents. The Church of the Lady of the\n_Pillar_ is frequented by Pilgrims, almost from all Countries; 'twas\nanciently a Roman Colony.\n_Tibi laus, tibi honor, tibi sit gloria, O gloriosa Trinitas, quia tu\ndedisti mihi hanc opportunitatem, omnes has res gestas recordandi. Nomen\ntuum sit benedictum, per s\u00e6cula s\u00e6culorum. Amen._\n_FINIS_", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Military Memoirs of Capt. George Carleton\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " French\n", "content": "Produced by Chuck Greif & www.ebooksgratuits.com\nDaniel De Fo\u00eb\nVIE\nET\nAVENTURES\nDE\nROBINSON CRUSOE\n\u00c9CRITES\nPAR LUI-M\u00caME,\nTRADUITES\nPAR\nPETRUS\nBOREL.\nTOME PREMIER.\nFRANCISQUE BOREL\nET\nALEXANDRE VARENNE.\nTable des mati\u00e8res\n_PR\u00c9FACE_\nROBINSON\nLA TEMP\u00caTE\nROBINSON MARCHAND DE GUIN\nROBINSON CAPTIF\nPREMI\u00c8RE AIGUADE\nROBINSON ET XURY VAINQUEURS D'UN LION\nPROPOSITIONS DES TROIS COLONS\nNAUFRAGE\nSEULS RESTES DE L'\u00c9QUIPAGE\nLE RADEAU\nLA CHAMBRE DU CAPITAINE\nLA CH\u00c8VRE ET SON CHEVREAU\nLA CHAISE\nCHASSE DU 3 NOVEMBRE\nLE SAC AUX GRAINS\nL'OURAGAN\nLE SONGE\nLA SAINTE BIBLE\nLA SAVANE\nVENDANGES\nSOUVENIR D'ENFANCE\nLA CAGE DE POLL\nLE GIBET\nLA POTERIE\nLA PIROGUE\nR\u00c9DACTION DU JOURNAL\nS\u00c9JOUR SUR LA COLLINE\nPOOR ROBIN CRUSOE, WHERE ARE YOU?\nROBINSON ET SA COUR\nLE VESTIGE\nLES OSSEMENTS\nEMBUSCADE\nDIGRESSION HISTORIQUE\nLA CAVERNE\nFESTIN\nLE FANAL\nVOYAGE AU VAISSEAU NAUFRAG\u00c9\nLE R\u00caVE\nFIN DE LA VIE SOLITAIRE\nVENDREDI\n\u00c9DUCATION DE VENDREDI\nDIEU\nHOMMES BARBUS AU PAYS DE VENDREDI\nCHANTIER DE CONSTRUCTION\nCHRISTIANUS\nVENDREDI ET SON P\u00c8RE\nPR\u00c9VOYANCE\nD\u00c9BARQUEMENT DU CAPITAINE ANGLAIS\nOFFRES DE SERVICE\nTRANSLATION DES PRISONNIERS\nLA CAPITULATION\nREPRISE DU NAVIRE\nD\u00c9PART DE L'\u00ceLE\n_PR\u00c9FACE_\n_Le traducteur de ce livre n'est point un traducteur, c'est tout\nbonnement un po\u00e8te_ _qui s'est pris de belle passion et de courage. Une\ndes plus belles cr\u00e9ations du g\u00e9nie anglais courait depuis un si\u00e8cle par\nles rues avec des haillons sur le corps, de la boue sur la face et de la\npaille dans les cheveux; il a cru, dans son orgueil, que mission lui\n\u00e9tait donn\u00e9e d'arr\u00eater cette trop longue profanation, et il s'est mis \u00e0\narracher \u00e0 deux mains cette paille et ces haillons._\n_Si le traducteur de ce livre avait pu entrevoir seulement le m\u00e9rite le\nplus infime dans la vieille traduction de ROBINSON, il se serait donn\u00e9\nde garde de venir refaire une chose d\u00e9j\u00e0 faite. Il a trop de respect\npour tout ce que nous ont l\u00e9gu\u00e9 nos p\u00e8res, il aime trop Amyot et\nLabruy\u00e8re, pour rien dire, rien entreprendre qui puisse faire oublier un\nmot tomb\u00e9 de la plume des hommes admirables qui ont fait avant nous un\nusage si magnifique de notre belle langue._\n_Il n'est pas besoin de beaucoup de paroles pour d\u00e9montrer le peu de\nvaleur de la vieille traduction de ROBINSON; elle est d'une m\u00e9diocrit\u00e9\nqui saute aux yeux, d'une m\u00e9diocrit\u00e9 si g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement sentie que pas un\nlibraire depuis soixante ans n'a os\u00e9 la r\u00e9imprimer telle que telle.\nSaint-Hyacinthe et Van-Offen, \u00e0 qui on l'attribue, avouent ing\u00e9nuement\ndans leur pr\u00e9face anonyme qu'elle n'est pas litt\u00e9rale, et qu'ils ont\nfait de leur mieux pour satisfaire \u00e0 la d\u00e9licatesse fran\u00e7aise; et le\nDictionnaire Historique \u00e0 l'endroit de Saint-Hyacinthe dit qu'il est\nauteur de quelques traductions qui prouvent que souvent il a \u00e9t\u00e9\ncontraint de travailler pour la fortune plut\u00f4t que pour la gloire. \u00c0\ncela nous ajouterons seulement que la traduction de Saint-Hyacinthe et\nVan-Offen est absolument inexacte; qu'au narr\u00e9, nous n'osons dire style,\nsimple, nerveux, accentu\u00e9 de l'original, Saint-Hyacinthe et Van-Offen\nont substitu\u00e9 un d\u00e9layage blafard, sans caract\u00e8re et sans onction; que\nla plupart des pages de Saint-Hyacinthe et Van-Offen n'offrent qu'un\nassemblage de mots ind\u00e9cis et de sens vagues qui, \u00e0 la lecture courante,\nsemblent dire quelque chose, mais qui tombent devant toute logique et ne\nlaissent que du terne dans l'esprit. Partout o\u00f9 dans l'original se\ntrouve un trait caract\u00e9ristique, un mot simple et sublime, une belle et\nsage pens\u00e9e, une r\u00e9flexion profonde, on est s\u00fbr au passage correspondant\nde la traduction de Saint-Hyacinthe et Van-Offen de mettre le doigt sur\nune pauvret\u00e9._\n_Comme nous ne sommes point sur un terrain libre, nous croyons devoir\ngarder le silence sur une traduction_ androgyne _publi\u00e9e concurremment\navec celle-ci. Press\u00e9s de questions cependant, nous pourrions donner \u00e0\nentendre que dans cette \u0153uvre tout ce qui nous semble appartenir \u00e0_\nHerm\u00e8s _n'est pas remarquable: pour ce qui est d'_Aphrodite, _nous avons\ntrop d'entregent pour manquer \u00e0 la galanterie: nous nous bornerons \u00e0\nregretter qu'un beau nom se soit charg\u00e9 des mis\u00e8res d'autrui._\n_Pour donner \u00e0 la France un ROBINSON digne de la France, il faudrait la\nplume pure, souple, conteuse et na\u00efve de Charles Nodier. Le traducteur\nde ce livre ne s'est point dissimul\u00e9 la grandeur de la t\u00e2che. \u00c0 d\u00e9faut\nde talent il a apport\u00e9 de l'exactitude et de la conscience. Un autre\nviendra peut-\u00eatre et fera mieux. Il le souhaite de tout son c\u0153ur; mais\naussi il demeure convaincu, modestie de pr\u00e9face \u00e0 part, que, quelle que\nsoit l'inf\u00e9riorit\u00e9 de son travail sur ROBINSON, il est au-dessus de ceux\nfaits avant lui, de toute la distance qu'il y a de sa traduction \u00e0\nl'original._\n_C'est \u00e0 l'envi, c'est \u00e0 qui mieux mieux, c'est \u00e0 qui s'occupera des\ngrands po\u00e8tes, des grandes cr\u00e9ations litt\u00e9raires; mais un \u00e9crivain ne\nvoudrait pas descendre jusqu'aux livres populaires, aux beaux livres\npopulaires qui ont toute notre affection: on les abandonne aux talents\nde bas \u00e9tage et de commerce. Pour nous, peu ambitieux, nous revendiquons\nces parias et croyons notre part assez belle._\n_On a engag\u00e9 le traducteur de ce livre \u00e0 se justifier de son orthographe\ndu mot_ mouce _et du mot_ touts. _Ce n'est point ici le lieu d'une\ndissertation philologique. Il se contentera de r\u00e9pondre brusquement \u00e0\nceux qui s'efforcent de l'oublier, que le pluriel, en fran\u00e7ais, se forme\nen ajoutant une_ s. _S'il court par le monde des habitudes vicieuses, il\nne les conna\u00eet pas et ne veut pas les conna\u00eetre. L'orthographe de MM. de\nPort-Royal lui suffit._[1] _Quant au mot_ mouce, _c'est une simple\nrectification \u00e9tymologique demand\u00e9e depuis long-temps. Il faut esp\u00e9rer\nqu'enfin cette homonymie cr\u00e9\u00e9e \u00e0 plaisir dispara\u00eetra de nos lexiques,\nescort\u00e9e d'une belle collection de b\u00e9vues et de barbarismes qui d\u00e9parent\nles meilleurs: Dieu sait ce qu'ils valent! Il n'est pas possible que\nle_ mo\u00e7o _des navigateurs m\u00e9ridionaux puisse s'\u00e9crire comme la mousse,\nle_ museus _de nos herboristes. Pour quiconque n'est pas \u00e9tranger \u00e0 la\nphilologie, il est facile d'appercevoir la cause de cette erreur. On a\nfait aux marins la r\u00e9putation de n'\u00eatre pas forts sur la politesse; mais\nleur impolitesse n'est rien au prix de leur orthographe: il n'est\npeut-\u00eatre pas un terme de marine qui ne soit une cacographie ou une\ncacologie._\n_Saura-t-on gr\u00e9 au traducteur de ce livre de la peine qu'il a prise?\nconfondra-t-on le labeur fait par choix et par amour avec de la besogne\nfaite \u00e0 la course et dans le but d'un salaire? Cela ne se peut pas, ce\nserait trop d\u00e9courageant. Il est un petit nombre d'esprits d'\u00e9lite qui\nfixent la valeur de toutes choses; ces esprits-l\u00e0 sont g\u00e9n\u00e9reux, ils\ntiennent compte des efforts. D'ailleurs le bien doit mener \u00e0 bien,\nchaque chose finit toujours par tomber ou monter au rang qui lui\nconvient. Le traducteur de ce livre ne croit pas \u00e0 l'injustice._\nROBINSON\nEn 1632, je naquis \u00e0 York, d'une bonne famille, mais qui n'\u00e9tait point\nde ce pays. Mon p\u00e8re, originaire de Br\u00eame, \u00e9tabli premi\u00e8rement \u00e0 Hull,\napr\u00e8s avoir acquis de l'aisance et s'\u00eatre retir\u00e9 du commerce, \u00e9tait venu\nr\u00e9sider \u00e0 York, o\u00f9 il s'\u00e9tait alli\u00e9, par ma m\u00e8re, \u00e0 la famille Robinson,\nune des meilleures de la province. C'est \u00e0 cette alliance que je devais\nmon double nom de Robinson-Kreutznaer; mais, aujourd'hui, par une\ncorruption de mots assez commune en Angleterre, on nous nomme, nous nous\nnommons et signons CRUSOE. C'est ainsi que mes compagnons m'ont toujours\nappel\u00e9.\nJ'avais deux fr\u00e8res: l'a\u00een\u00e9, lieutenant-colonel en Flandre, d'un\nr\u00e9giment d'infanterie anglaise, autrefois command\u00e9 par le fameux colonel\nLockhart, fut tu\u00e9 \u00e0 la bataille de Dunkerque contre les Espagnols; que\ndevint l'autre? j'ignore quelle fut sa destin\u00e9e; mon p\u00e8re et ma m\u00e8re ne\nconnurent pas mieux la mienne.\nTroisi\u00e8me fils de la famille, et n'ayant appris aucun m\u00e9tier, ma t\u00eate\ncommen\u00e7a de bonne heure \u00e0 se remplir de pens\u00e9es vagabondes. Mon p\u00e8re,\nqui \u00e9tait un bon vieillard, m'avait donn\u00e9 toute la somme de savoir qu'en\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ral on peut acqu\u00e9rir par l'\u00e9ducation domestique et dans une \u00e9cole\ngratuite. Il voulait me faire avocat; mais mon seul d\u00e9sir \u00e9tait d'aller\nsur mer, et cette inclination m'entra\u00eenait si r\u00e9solument contre sa\nvolont\u00e9 et ses ordres, et malgr\u00e9 m\u00eame toutes les pri\u00e8res et les\nsollicitations de ma m\u00e8re et de mes parents, qu'il semblait qu'il y e\u00fbt\nune fatalit\u00e9 dans cette propension naturelle vers un avenir de mis\u00e8re.\nMon p\u00e8re, homme grave et sage, me donnait de s\u00e9rieux et d'excellents\nconseils contre ce qu'il pr\u00e9voyait \u00eatre mon dessein. Un matin il\nm'appela dans sa chambre, o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait retenu par la goutte, et me\nr\u00e9primanda chaleureusement \u00e0 ce sujet.--\u00ab[2]Quelle autre raison as-tu,\nme dit-il, qu'un penchant aventureux, pour abandonner la maison\npaternelle et ta patrie, o\u00f9 tu pourrais \u00eatre pouss\u00e9, et o\u00f9 tu as\nl'assurance de faire ta fortune avec de l'application et de l'industrie,\net l'assurance d'une vie d'aisance et de plaisir? Il n'y a que les\nhommes dans l'adversit\u00e9 ou les ambitieux qui s'en vont chercher aventure\ndans les pays \u00e9trangers, pour s'\u00e9lever par entreprise et se rendre\nfameux par des actes en dehors de la voie commune. Ces choses sont de\nbeaucoup trop au-dessus ou trop au-dessous de toi; ton \u00e9tat est le\nm\u00e9diocre, ou ce qui peut \u00eatre appel\u00e9 la premi\u00e8re condition du bas \u00e9tage;\nune longue exp\u00e9rience me l'a fait reconna\u00eetre comme le meilleur dans le\nmonde et le plus convenable au bonheur. Il n'est en proie ni aux\nmis\u00e8res, ni aux peines, ni aux travaux, ni aux souffrances des artisans:\nil n'est point troubl\u00e9 par l'orgueil, le luxe, l'ambition et l'envie des\nhautes classes. Tu peux juger du bonheur de cet \u00e9tat; c'est celui de la\nvie que les autres hommes jalousent; les rois, souvent, ont g\u00e9mi des\ncruelles cons\u00e9quences d'\u00eatre n\u00e9s pour les grandeurs, et ont souhait\u00e9\nd'\u00eatre plac\u00e9s entre les deux extr\u00eames, entre les grands et les petits;\nenfin le sage l'a proclam\u00e9 le juste point de la vraie f\u00e9licit\u00e9 en\nimplorant le Ciel de le pr\u00e9server de la pauvret\u00e9 et de la richesse.\n\u00abRemarque bien ceci, et tu le v\u00e9rifieras toujours: les calamit\u00e9s de la\nvie sont le partage de la plus haute et de la plus basse classe du genre\nhumain; la condition moyenne \u00e9prouve le moins de d\u00e9sastres, et n'est\npoint expos\u00e9e \u00e0 autant de vicissitudes que le haut et le bas de la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9; elle est m\u00eame sujette \u00e0 moins de maladies et de troubles de\ncorps et d'esprit que les deux autres, qui, par leurs d\u00e9bauches, leurs\nvices et leurs exc\u00e8s, ou par un trop rude travail, le manque du\nn\u00e9cessaire, une insuffisante nourriture et la faim, attirent sur eux des\nmis\u00e8res et des maux, naturelle cons\u00e9quence de leur mani\u00e8re de vivre. La\ncondition moyenne s'accommode le mieux de toutes les vertus et de toutes\nles jouissances: la paix et l'abondance sont les compagnes d'une fortune\nm\u00e9diocre. La temp\u00e9rance, la mod\u00e9ration, la tranquillit\u00e9, la sant\u00e9, la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9, touts les agr\u00e9ables divertissements et touts les plaisirs\nd\u00e9sirables sont les b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions r\u00e9serv\u00e9es \u00e0 ce rang. Par cette voie,\nles hommes quittent le monde d'une fa\u00e7on douce, et passent doucement et\nuniment \u00e0 travers, sans \u00eatre accabl\u00e9s de travaux des mains ou de\nl'esprit; sans \u00eatre vendus \u00e0 la vie de servitude pour le pain de chaque\njour; sans \u00eatre harass\u00e9s par des perplexit\u00e9s continuelles qui troublent\nla paix de l'\u00e2me et arrachent le corps au repos; sans \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par\nles angoisses de l'envie ou la secr\u00e8te et rongeante convoitise de\nl'ambition; au sein d'heureuses circonstances, ils glissent tout\nmollement \u00e0 travers la soci\u00e9t\u00e9, et go\u00fbtent sensiblement les douceurs de\nla vie sans les amertumes, ayant le sentiment de leur bonheur et\napprenant, par l'exp\u00e9rience journali\u00e8re, \u00e0 le conna\u00eetre plus\nprofond\u00e9ment.\u00bb\nEnsuite il me pria instamment et de la mani\u00e8re la plus affectueuse de ne\npas faire le jeune homme:--\u00abNe va pas te pr\u00e9cipiter, me disait-il, au\nmilieu des maux contre lesquels la nature et ta naissance semblent\nt'avoir pr\u00e9muni; tu n'es pas dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d'aller chercher ton\npain; je te veux du bien, je ferai touts mes efforts pour te placer\nparfaitement dans la position de la vie qu'en ce moment je te\nrecommande. Si tu n'\u00e9tais pas aise et heureux dans le monde, ce serait\npar ta destin\u00e9e ou tout-\u00e0-fait par l'erreur qu'il te faut \u00e9viter; je\nn'en serais en rien responsable, ayant ainsi satisfait \u00e0 mes devoirs en\nt'\u00e9clairant sur des projets que je sais \u00eatre ta ruine. En un mot,\nj'accomplirais franchement mes bonnes promesses si tu voulais te fixer\nici suivant mon souhait, mais je ne voudrais pas tremper dans tes\ninfortunes en favorisant ton \u00e9loignement. N'as-tu pas l'exemple de ton\nfr\u00e8re a\u00een\u00e9, aupr\u00e8s de qui j'usai autrefois des m\u00eames instances pour le\ndissuader d'aller \u00e0 la guerre des Pays-Bas, instances qui ne purent\nl'emporter sur ses jeunes d\u00e9sirs le poussant \u00e0 se jeter dans l'arm\u00e9e, o\u00f9\nil trouva la mort. Je ne cesserai jamais de prier pour toi, toutefois\nj'oserais te pr\u00e9dire, si tu faisais ce coup de t\u00eate, que Dieu ne te\nb\u00e9nirait point, et que, dans l'avenir, manquant de toute assistance, tu\naurais toute la latitude de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur le m\u00e9pris de mes conseils.\u00bb\nJe remarquai vers la derni\u00e8re partie de ce discours, qui \u00e9tait\nv\u00e9ritablement proph\u00e9tique, quoique je ne suppose pas que mon p\u00e8re en ait\neu le sentiment; je remarquai, dis-je, que des larmes coulaient\nabondamment sur sa face, surtout lorsqu'il me parla de la perte de mon\nfr\u00e8re, et qu'il \u00e9tait si \u00e9mu, en me pr\u00e9disant que j'aurais tout le\nloisir de me repentir, sans avoir personne pour m'assister, qu'il\ns'arr\u00eata court, puis ajouta:--\u00abJ'ai le c\u0153ur trop plein, je ne saurais\nt'en dire davantage.\u00bb\nJe fus sinc\u00e8rement touch\u00e9 de cette exhortation; au reste, pouvait-il en\n\u00eatre autrement? Je r\u00e9solus donc de ne plus penser \u00e0 aller au loin, mais\n\u00e0 m'\u00e9tablir chez nous selon le d\u00e9sir de mon p\u00e8re. H\u00e9las! en peu de jours\ntout cela s'\u00e9vanouit, et bref, pour pr\u00e9venir de nouvelles importunit\u00e9s\npaternelles, quelques semaines apr\u00e8s je me d\u00e9terminai \u00e0 m'enfuir.\nN\u00e9anmoins, je ne fis rien \u00e0 la h\u00e2te comme m'y poussait ma premi\u00e8re\nardeur, mais un jour que ma m\u00e8re me parut un peu plus gaie que de\ncoutume, je la pris \u00e0 part et lui dis:--Je suis tellement pr\u00e9occup\u00e9 du\nd\u00e9sir irr\u00e9sistible de courir le monde, que je ne pourrais rien embrasser\navec assez de r\u00e9solution pour y r\u00e9ussir; mon p\u00e8re ferait mieux de me\ndonner son consentement que de me placer dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de passer\noutre. Maintenant, je suis \u00e2g\u00e9 de dix-huit ans, il est trop tard pour\nque j'entre apprenti dans le commerce ou clerc chez un procureur; si je\nle faisais, je suis certain de ne pouvoir achever mon temps, et avant\nmon engagement rempli de m'\u00e9vader de chez mon ma\u00eetre pour m'embarquer.\nSi vous vouliez bien engager mon p\u00e8re \u00e0 me laisser faire un voyage\nlointain, et que j'en revienne d\u00e9go\u00fbt\u00e9, je ne bougerais plus, et je vous\npromettrais de r\u00e9parer ce temps perdu par un redoublement d'assiduit\u00e9.\u00bb\nCette ouverture jeta ma m\u00e8re en grande \u00e9motion:--\u00abCela n'est pas\nproposable, me r\u00e9pondit-elle; je me garderai bien d'en parler \u00e0 ton\np\u00e8re; il conna\u00eet trop bien tes v\u00e9ritables int\u00e9r\u00eats pour donner son\nassentiment \u00e0 une chose qui te serait si funeste. Je trouve \u00e9trange que\ntu puisses encore y songer apr\u00e8s l'entretien que tu as eu avec lui et\nl'affabilit\u00e9 et les expressions tendres dont je sais qu'il a us\u00e9 envers\ntoi. En un mot, si tu veux absolument aller te perdre, je n'y vois point\nde rem\u00e8de; mais tu peux \u00eatre assur\u00e9 de n'obtenir jamais notre\napprobation. Pour ma part, je ne veux point mettre la main \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre de\nta destruction, et il ne sera jamais dit que ta m\u00e8re se soit pr\u00eat\u00e9e \u00e0\nune chose r\u00e9prouv\u00e9e par ton p\u00e8re.\u00bb\nNonobstant ce refus, comme je l'appris dans la suite, elle rapporta le\ntout \u00e0 mon p\u00e8re, qui, profond\u00e9ment affect\u00e9, lui dit: en soupirant:--\u00abCe\ngar\u00e7on pourrait \u00eatre heureux s'il voulait demeurer \u00e0 la maison; mais,\ns'il va courir le monde, il sera la cr\u00e9ature la plus mis\u00e9rable qui ait\njamais \u00e9t\u00e9: je n'y consentirai jamais.\u00bb\nCe ne fut environ qu'un an apr\u00e8s ceci que je m'\u00e9chappai, quoique\ncependant je continuasse obstin\u00e9ment \u00e0 rester sourd \u00e0 toutes\npropositions d'embrasser un \u00e9tat; et quoique souvent je reprochasse \u00e0\nmon p\u00e8re et \u00e0 ma m\u00e8re leur in\u00e9branlable opposition, quand ils savaient\ntr\u00e8s-bien que j'\u00e9tais entra\u00een\u00e9 par mes inclinations. Un jour, me\ntrouvant \u00e0 Hull, o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais all\u00e9 par hasard et sans aucun dessein\npr\u00e9m\u00e9dit\u00e9, \u00e9tant l\u00e0, dis-je, un de mes compagnons pr\u00eat \u00e0 se rendre par\nmer \u00e0 Londres, sur un vaisseau de son p\u00e8re me pressa de partir, avec\nl'amorce ordinaire des marins, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'il ne m'en co\u00fbterait rien\npour ma travers\u00e9e. Je ne consultai plus mes parents; je ne leur envoyai\naucun message; mais, leur laissant \u00e0 l'apprendre comme ils pourraient,\nsans demander la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu ou de mon p\u00e8re, sans aucune\nconsid\u00e9ration des circonstances et des cons\u00e9quences, malheureusement,\nDieu sait! Le _1er_ _septembre 1651,_ j'allai \u00e0 bord du vaisseau charg\u00e9\npour Londres. Jamais infortunes de jeune aventurier, je pense, ne\ncommenc\u00e8rent plus t\u00f4t et ne dur\u00e8rent plus long-temps que les miennes.\nComme le vaisseau sortait \u00e0 peine de l'Humber, le vent s'\u00e9leva et les\nvagues s'enfl\u00e8rent effroyablement. Je n'\u00e9tais jamais all\u00e9 sur mer\nauparavant; je fus, d'une fa\u00e7on indicible, malade de corps et \u00e9pouvant\u00e9\nd'esprit. Je commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir s\u00e9rieusement sur ce que j'avais\nfait et sur la justice divine qui frappait en moi un fils coupable.\nTouts les bons conseils de mes parents, les larmes de mon p\u00e8re, les\nparoles de ma m\u00e8re, se pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent alors vivement en mon esprit; et ma\nconscience, qui n'\u00e9tait point encore arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 ce point de duret\u00e9\nqu'elle atteignit plus tard, me reprocha mon m\u00e9pris de la sagesse et la\nviolation de mes devoirs envers Dieu et mon p\u00e8re.\nPendant ce temps la temp\u00eate croissait, et la mer devint tr\u00e8s-grosse,\nquoique ce ne f\u00fbt rien en comparaison de ce que j'ai vu depuis, et m\u00eame\nseulement quelques jours apr\u00e8s, c'en fut assez pour affecter un novice\ntel que moi. \u00c0 chaque vague je me croyais submerg\u00e9, et chaque fois que\nle vaisseau s'abaissait entre deux lames, je le croyais englouti au fond\nde la mer. Dans cette agonie d'esprit, je fis plusieurs fois le projet\net le v\u0153u, s'il plaisait \u00e0 Dieu de me sauver de ce voyage, et si je\npouvais remettre le pied sur la terre ferme, de ne plus le remettre \u00e0\nbord d'un navire, de m'en aller tout droit chez mon p\u00e8re, de\nm'abandonner \u00e0 ses conseils, et de ne plus me jeter dans de telles\nmis\u00e8res. Alors je vis pleinement l'excellence de ses observations sur la\nvie commune, et combien doucement et confortablement il avait pass\u00e9\ntouts ses jours, sans jamais avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 expos\u00e9, ni aux temp\u00eates de\nl'oc\u00e9an ni aux disgr\u00e2ces de la terre; et je r\u00e9solus, comme l'enfant\nprodigue repentant, de retourner \u00e0 la maison paternelle.\nLA TEMP\u00caTE\nCes sages et s\u00e9rieuses pens\u00e9es dur\u00e8rent tant que dura la temp\u00eate, et\nm\u00eame quelque temps apr\u00e8s; mais le jour d'ensuite le vent \u00e9tant abattu et\nla mer plus calme, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m'y accoutumer un peu. Toutefois,\nj'\u00e9tais encore indispos\u00e9 du mal de mer, et je demeurai fort triste\npendant tout le jour. Mais \u00e0 l'approche de la nuit le temps s'\u00e9claircit,\nle vent s'appaisa tout-\u00e0-fait, la soir\u00e9e fut d\u00e9licieuse, et le soleil se\ncoucha \u00e9clatant pour se lever de m\u00eame le lendemain: une brise l\u00e9g\u00e8re, un\nsoleil embras\u00e9 resplendissant sur une mer unie, ce fut un beau\nspectacle, le plus beau que j'aie vu de ma vie.\nJ'avais bien dormi pendant la nuit; je ne ressentais plus de naus\u00e9es,\nj'\u00e9tais vraiment dispos et je contemplais, \u00e9merveill\u00e9, l'oc\u00e9an qui, la\nveille, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 si courrouc\u00e9 et si terrible, et qui si peu de temps\napr\u00e8s se montrait si calme et si agr\u00e9able. Alors, de peur que mes bonnes\nr\u00e9solutions ne se soutinssent, mon compagnon, qui apr\u00e8s tout m'avait\nd\u00e9bauch\u00e9, vint \u00e0 moi:--\u00abEh bien! Bob, me dit-il en me frappant sur\nl'\u00e9paule, comment \u00e7a va-t-il? Je gage que tu as \u00e9t\u00e9 effray\u00e9, la nuit\nderni\u00e8re, quand il ventait: ce n'\u00e9tait pourtant qu'un _plein bonnet de\nvent?\u00bb_--\u00abVous n'appelez cela qu'un _plein bonnet de vent?_ C'\u00e9tait une\nhorrible tourmente!\u00bb--\u00abUne tourmente? tu es fou! tu appelles cela une\ntourmente? Vraiment ce n'\u00e9tait rien du tout. Donne-nous un bon vaisseau\net une belle d\u00e9rive, nous nous moquerons bien d'une pareille rafale; tu\nn'es qu'un marin d'eau douce, Bob; viens que nous fassions un _bowl_ de\n_punch,_ et que nous oubliions tout cela[3]. Vois quel temps charmant il\nfait \u00e0 cette heure!\u00bb--Enfin, pour abr\u00e9ger cette triste portion de mon\nhistoire, nous suiv\u00eemes le vieux train des gens de mer: on fit du\n_punch,_ je m'enivrai, et, dans une nuit de d\u00e9bauches, je noyai toute ma\nrepentance, toutes mes r\u00e9flexions sur ma conduite pass\u00e9e, et toutes mes\nr\u00e9solutions pour l'avenir. De m\u00eame que l'oc\u00e9an avait rass\u00e9r\u00e9n\u00e9 sa\nsurface et \u00e9tait rentr\u00e9 dans le repos apr\u00e8s la temp\u00eate abattue, de m\u00eame,\napr\u00e8s le trouble de mes pens\u00e9es \u00e9vanoui, apr\u00e8s la perte de mes craintes\net de mes appr\u00e9hensions, le courant de mes d\u00e9sirs habituels revint, et\nj'oubliai enti\u00e8rement les promesses et les v\u0153ux que j'avais faits en ma\nd\u00e9tresse. Pourtant, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, comme il arrive ordinairement en\npareils cas, quelques intervalles de r\u00e9flexions et de bons sentiments\nreparaissaient encore; mais je les chassais et je m'en gu\u00e9rissais comme\nd'une maladie, en m'adonnant et \u00e0 la boisson et \u00e0 l'\u00e9quipage. Bient\u00f4t\nj'eus surmont\u00e9 le retour de ces acc\u00e8s, c'est ainsi que je les appelais,\net en cinq ou six jours j'obtins sur ma conscience une victoire aussi\ncompl\u00e8te qu'un jeune libertin r\u00e9solu \u00e0 \u00e9touffer ses remords le pouvait\nd\u00e9sirer. Mais il m'\u00e9tait r\u00e9serv\u00e9 de subir encore une \u00e9preuve: la\nProvidence, suivant sa loi ordinaire, avait r\u00e9solu de me laisser\nenti\u00e8rement sans excuse. Puisque je ne voulais pas reconna\u00eetre ceci pour\nune d\u00e9livrance, la prochaine devait \u00eatre telle que le plus mauvais\nbandit d'entre nous confesserait tout \u00e0 la fois le danger et la\nmis\u00e9ricorde.\nLe sixi\u00e8me jour de notre travers\u00e9e, nous entr\u00e2mes dans la rade\nd'Yarmouth. Le vent ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 contraire et le temps calme, nous n'avions\nfait que peu de chemin depuis la temp\u00eate. L\u00e0, nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de\njeter l'ancre et le vent continuant d'\u00eatre contraire, c'est-\u00e0-dire de\nsouffler Sud-Ouest, nous y demeur\u00e2mes sept ou huit jours, durant\nlesquels beaucoup de vaisseaux de Newcastle vinrent mouiller dans la\nm\u00eame rade, refuge commun des b\u00e2timents qui attendent un vent favorable\npour gagner la Tamise.\nNous eussions, toutefois, rel\u00e2ch\u00e9 moins long-temps, et nous eussions d\u00fb,\n\u00e0 la faveur de la mar\u00e9e, remonter la rivi\u00e8re, si le vent n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9\ntrop fort, et si au quatri\u00e8me ou cinqui\u00e8me jour de notre station il\nn'e\u00fbt pas souffl\u00e9 violemment. Cependant, comme la rade \u00e9tait r\u00e9put\u00e9e\naussi bonne qu'un port; comme le mouillage \u00e9tait bon, et l'appareil de\nnotre ancre extr\u00eamement solide, nos gens \u00e9taient insouciants, et, sans\nla moindre appr\u00e9hension du danger, ils passaient le temps dans le repos\net dans la joie, comme il est d'usage sur mer. Mais le huiti\u00e8me jour, le\nvent for\u00e7a; nous m\u00eemes touts la main \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre; nous cal\u00e2mes nos m\u00e2ts de\nhune et t\u00eenmes toutes choses closes et serr\u00e9es, pour donner au vaisseau\ndes mouvements aussi doux que possible. Vers midi, la mer devint\ntr\u00e8s-grosse, notre ch\u00e2teau de proue plongeait; nous embarqu\u00e2mes\nplusieurs vagues, et il nous sembla une ou deux fois que notre ancre\nlabourait le fond. Sur ce, le capitaine fit jeter l'ancre d'esp\u00e9rance,\nde sorte que nous chass\u00e2mes sur deux, apr\u00e8s avoir fil\u00e9 nos c\u00e2bles\njusqu'au bout.\nD\u00e9j\u00e0 une terrible temp\u00eate mugissait, et je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 voir la terreur\nsur le visage des matelots eux-m\u00eames. Quoique veillant sans rel\u00e2che \u00e0 la\nconservation du vaisseau, comme il entrait ou sortait de sa cabine, et\npassait pr\u00e8s de moi, j'entendis plusieurs fois le capitaine prof\u00e9rer\ntout bas ces paroles et d'autres semblables:--\u00abSeigneur ayez piti\u00e9 de\nnous! Nous sommes touts perdus, nous sommes touts morts!...\u00bb--Durant ces\npremi\u00e8res confusions, j'\u00e9tais stupide, \u00e9tendu dans ma cabine, au\nlogement des matelots, et je ne saurais d\u00e9crire l'\u00e9tat de mon esprit. Je\npouvais difficilement rentrer dans mon premier repentir, que j'avais si\nmanifestement foul\u00e9 aux pieds, et contre lequel je m'\u00e9tais endurci. Je\npensais que les affres de la mort \u00e9taient pass\u00e9es, et que cet orage ne\nserait point comme le premier. Mais quand, pr\u00e8s de moi, comme je le\ndisais tant\u00f4t, le capitaine lui-m\u00eame s'\u00e9cria:--\u00abNous sommes touts\nperdus!\u00bb--je fus horriblement effray\u00e9, je sortis de ma cabine et je\nregardai dehors. Jamais spectacle aussi terrible n'avait frapp\u00e9 mes\nyeux: l'oc\u00e9an s'\u00e9levait comme des montagnes, et \u00e0 chaque instant fondait\ncontre nous; quand je pouvais promener un regard aux alentours, je ne\nvoyais que d\u00e9tresse. Deux b\u00e2timents pesamment charg\u00e9s qui mouillaient\nnon loin de nous avaient coup\u00e9 leurs m\u00e2ts rez-pied; et nos gens\ns'\u00e9cri\u00e8rent qu'un navire ancr\u00e9 \u00e0 un mille de nous venait de sancir sur\nses amarres. Deux autres vaisseaux, arrach\u00e9s \u00e0 leurs ancres, hors de la\nrade allaient au large \u00e0 tout hasard, sans voiles ni m\u00e2tures. Les\nb\u00e2timents l\u00e9gers, fatiguant moins, \u00e9taient en meilleure passe; deux ou\ntrois d'entre eux qui d\u00e9rivaient pass\u00e8rent tout contre nous, courant\nvent arri\u00e8re avec leur civadi\u00e8re seulement.\nVers le soir, le second et le bosseman suppli\u00e8rent le capitaine, qui s'y\nopposa fortement, de laisser couper le m\u00e2t de misaine; mais le bosseman\nlui ayant protest\u00e9 que, s'il ne le faisait pas, le b\u00e2timent coulerait \u00e0\nfond, il y consentit. Quand le m\u00e2t d'avant fut abattu, le grand m\u00e2t,\n\u00e9branl\u00e9, secouait si violemment le navire, qu'ils furent oblig\u00e9s de le\ncouper aussi et de faire pont ras.\nChacun peut juger dans quel \u00e9tat je devais \u00eatre, moi, jeune marin, que\npr\u00e9c\u00e9demment si peu de chose avait jet\u00e9 en si grand effroi; mais autant\nque je puis me rappeler de si loin les pens\u00e9es qui me pr\u00e9occupaient\nalors, j'avais dix fois plus que la mort en horreur d'esprit, mon m\u00e9pris\nde mes premiers remords et mon retour aux premi\u00e8res r\u00e9solutions que\nj'avais prises si m\u00e9chamment. Cette horreur, jointe \u00e0 la terreur de la\ntemp\u00eate, me mirent dans un tel \u00e9tat, que je ne puis par des mots la\nd\u00e9peindre. Mais le pis n'\u00e9tait pas encore advenu; la temp\u00eate continua\navec tant de furie, que les marins eux-m\u00eames confess\u00e8rent n'en avoir\njamais vu de plus violente. Nous avions un bon navire, mais il \u00e9tait\nlourdement charg\u00e9 et calait tellement, qu'\u00e0 chaque instant les matelots\ns'\u00e9criaient qu'il allait _couler \u00e0_ _fond._ Sous un rapport, ce fut un\nbonheur pour moi que je ne comprisse pas ce qu'ils entendaient par ce\nmot avant que je m'en fusse enquis. La tourmente \u00e9tait si terrible que\nje vis, chose rare, le capitaine, le contrema\u00eetre et quelques autres\nplus judicieux que le reste, faire leurs pri\u00e8res, s'attendant \u00e0tout\nmoment que le vaisseau coulerait \u00e0 fond. Au milieu de la nuit, pour\nsurcro\u00eet de d\u00e9tresse, un des hommes qu'on avait envoy\u00e9s \u00e0 la visite,\ncria qu'il s'\u00e9tait fait une ouverture, et un autre dit qu'il y avait\nquatre pieds d'eau dans la cale. Alors touts les bras furent appel\u00e9s \u00e0\nla pompe. \u00c0 ce seul mot, je m'\u00e9vanouis et je tombai\u00e0 la renverse sur le\nbord de mon lit, sur lequel j'\u00e9tais assis dans ma cabine. Toutefois les\nmatelots me r\u00e9veill\u00e8rent et me dirent que si jusque-l\u00e0 je n'avais \u00e9t\u00e9\nbon \u00e0 rien, j'\u00e9tais tout aussi capable de pomper qu'aucun autre. Je me\nlevai; j'allai \u00e0 la pompe et je travaillai de tout c\u0153ur. Dans cette\nentrefaite, le capitaine appercevant quelques petits b\u00e2timents\ncharbonniers qui, ne pouvant surmonter la temp\u00eate, \u00e9taient forc\u00e9s de\nglisser et de courir au large, et ne venaient pas vers nous, ordonna de\ntirer un coup de canon en signal de d\u00e9tresse. Moi qui ne savais ce que\ncela signifiait, je fus tellement surpris, que je crus le vaisseau bris\u00e9\nou qu'il \u00e9tait advenu quelque autre chose \u00e9pouvantable; en un mot je fus\nsi effray\u00e9que je tombai en d\u00e9faillance. Comme c'\u00e9tait dans un moment o\u00f9\nchacun pensait \u00e0 sa propre vie, personne ne prit garde \u00e0 moi, ni \u00e0 ce\nque j'\u00e9tais devenu; seulement un autre prit ma place \u00e0 la pompe, et me\nrepoussa du pied \u00e0 l'\u00e9cart, pensant que j'\u00e9tais mort, et ce ne fut que\nlong-temps apr\u00e8s que je revins \u00e0 moi.\nOn travaillait toujours, mais l'eau augmentant \u00e0 la cale, il y avait\ntoute apparence que le vaisseau coulerait bas. Et quoique la tourmente\ncommen\u00e7\u00e2t \u00e0 s'abattre un peu, n\u00e9anmoins il n'\u00e9tait pas possible qu'il\nsurnage\u00e2t jusqu'\u00e0 ce que nous atteignissions un port; aussi le capitaine\ncontinua-t-il \u00e0 faire tirer le canon de d\u00e9tresse. Un petit b\u00e2timent qui\nvenait justement de passer devant nous aventura une barque pour nous\nsecourir. Ce fut avec le plus grand risque qu'elle approcha; mais il\n\u00e9tait impossible que nous y allassions ou qu'elle parv\u00eent jusqu'au flanc\ndu vaisseau; enfin, les rameurs faisant un dernier effort et hasardant\nleur vie pour sauver la n\u00f4tre, nos matelots leur lanc\u00e8rent de l'avant\nune corde avec une bou\u00e9e, et en fil\u00e8rent une grande longueur. Apr\u00e8s\nbeaucoup de peines et de p\u00e9rils, ils la saisirent, nous les hal\u00e2mes\njusque sous notre poupe, et nous descend\u00eemes dans leur barque. Il e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 inutile de pr\u00e9tendre atteindre leur b\u00e2timent: aussi l'avis commun\nfut-il de laisser aller la barque en d\u00e9rive, et seulement de ramer le\nplus qu'on pourrait vers la c\u00f4te, notre capitaine promettant, si la\nbarque venait \u00e0 se briser contre le rivage, d'en tenir compte \u00e0 son\npatron. Ainsi, partie en ramant, partie en d\u00e9rivant vers le Nord, notre\nbateau s'en alla obliquement presque jusqu'\u00e0 Winterton-Ness.\nIl n'y avait gu\u00e8re plus d'un quart d'heure que nous avions abandonn\u00e9\nnotre vaisseau quand nous le v\u00eemes s'ab\u00eemer; alors je compris pour la\npremi\u00e8re fois ce que signifiait _couler-bas._ Mais, je dois l'avouer,\nj'avais l'\u0153il trouble et je distinguais fort mal, quand les matelots me\ndirent qu'il _coulait,_ car, d\u00e8s le moment que j'allai, ou plut\u00f4t qu'on\nme mit dans la barque, j'\u00e9tais an\u00e9anti par l'effroi, l'horreur et la\ncrainte de l'avenir.\nNos gens faisaient toujours force de rames pour approcher du rivage.\nQuand notre bateau s'\u00e9levait au haut des vagues, nous l'appercevions, et\nle long de la rive nous voyions une foule nombreuse accourir pour nous\nassister lorsque nous serions proches.\nROBINSON MARCHAND DE GUIN[4]\nNous avancions lentement, et nous ne p\u00fbmes aborder avant d'avoir pass\u00e9\nle phare de Winterton; la c\u00f4te s'enfon\u00e7ait \u00e0 l'Ouest vers Cromer, de\nsorte que la terre brisait la violence du vent. L\u00e0, nous abord\u00e2mes, et,\nnon sans grande difficult\u00e9, nous descend\u00eemes touts sains et saufs sur la\nplage, et all\u00e2mes \u00e0 pied \u00e0 Yarmouth, o\u00f9, comme des infortun\u00e9s, nous\nf\u00fbmes trait\u00e9s avec beaucoup d'humanit\u00e9, et par les magistrats de la\nville, qui nous assign\u00e8rent de bons g\u00eetes, et par les marchands et les\narmateurs, qui nous donn\u00e8rent assez d'argent pour nous rendre \u00e0 Londres\nou pour retourner \u00e0 Hull, suivant que nous le jugerions convenable.\nC'est alors que je devais avoir le bon sens de revenir \u00e0 Hull et de\nrentrer chez nous; j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 heureux, et mon p\u00e8re, embl\u00e8me de la\nparabole de notre Sauveur, e\u00fbt m\u00eame tu\u00e9 le veau gras pour moi; car,\nayant appris que le vaisseau sur lequel j'\u00e9tais avait fait naufrage dans\nla rade d'Yarmouth, il fut long-temps avant d'avoir l'assurance que je\nn'\u00e9tais pas mort.\nMais mon mauvais destin m'entra\u00eenait avec une obstination irr\u00e9sistible;\net, bien que souvent ma raison et mon bon jugement me criassent de\nrevenir \u00e0 la maison, je n'avais pas la force de le faire. Je ne saurais\nni comment appeler cela, ni vouloir pr\u00e9tendre que ce soit un secret\narr\u00eat irr\u00e9vocable qui nous pousse \u00e0 \u00eatre les instruments de notre propre\ndestruction, quoique m\u00eame nous en ayons la conscience, et que nous nous\ny pr\u00e9cipitions les yeux ouverts; mais, v\u00e9ritablement, si ce n'est\nquelque d\u00e9cret in\u00e9vitable me condamnant \u00e0 une vie de mis\u00e8re et qu'il\nm'\u00e9tait impossible de braver, quelle chose e\u00fbt pu m'entra\u00eener contre ma\nfroide raison et les persuasions de mes pens\u00e9es les plus intimes, et\ncontre les deux avertissements si manifestes que j'avais re\u00e7us dans ma\npremi\u00e8re entreprise.\nMon camarade, qui d'abord avait aid\u00e9 \u00e0 mon endurcissement, et qui \u00e9tait\nle fils du capitaine, se trouvait alors plus d\u00e9courag\u00e9 que moi. La\npremi\u00e8re fois qu'il me parla \u00e0 Yarmouth, ce qui ne fut pas avant le\nsecond ou le troisi\u00e8me jour, car nous \u00e9tions log\u00e9s en divers quartiers\nde la ville; la premi\u00e8re fois, dis-je, qu'il s'informa de moi, son ton\nme parut alt\u00e9r\u00e9: il me demanda d'un air m\u00e9lancolique, en secouant la\nt\u00eate, comment je me portais, et dit \u00e0 son p\u00e8re qui j'\u00e9tais, et que\nj'avais fait ce voyage seulement pour essai, dans le dessein d'en\nentreprendre d'autres plus lointains. Cet homme se tourna vers moi et,\navec un accent de gravit\u00e9 et d'affliction:--\u00abJeune homme, me dit-il,\nvous ne devez plus retourner sur mer; vous devez consid\u00e9rer ceci comme\nune marque certaine et visible que vous n'\u00eates point appel\u00e9 \u00e0 faire un\nmarin.\u00bb--\u00abPourquoi, monsieur? est-ce que vous n'irez plus en mer?\u00bb--\u00abLe\ncas est bien diff\u00e9rent, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il: c'est mon m\u00e9tier et mon devoir;\nau lieu que vous, qui faisiez ce voyage comme essai, voyez quel\navant-go\u00fbt le ciel vous a donn\u00e9 de ce \u00e0 quoi il faudrait vous attendre\nsi vous persistiez. Peut-\u00eatre cela n'est-il advenu qu'\u00e0 cause de vous,\nsemblable \u00e0 Jonas dans le vaisseau de Tarsis. Qui \u00eates-vous, je vous\nprie? et pourquoi vous \u00e9tiez-vous embarqu\u00e9?\u00bb--Je lui contai en partie\nmon histoire. Sur la fin il m'interrompit et s'emporta d'une \u00e9trange\nmani\u00e8re.--\u00abQu'avais-je donc fait, s'\u00e9cria-t-il, pour m\u00e9riter d'avoir, \u00e0\nbord un pareil mis\u00e9rable! Je ne voudrais pas pour mille livres sterling\nremettre le pied sur le m\u00eame vaisseau que vous!\u00bb--C'\u00e9tait, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9,\ncomme j'ai dit, un v\u00e9ritable \u00e9garement de ses esprits encore troubl\u00e9s\npar le sentiment de sa perte, et qui d\u00e9passait toutes les bornes de son\nautorit\u00e9. Toutefois, il me parla ensuite tr\u00e8s-gravement, m'exhortant \u00e0\nretourner chez mon p\u00e8re et \u00e0 ne plus tenter la Providence. Il me dit\nqu'il devait m'\u00eatre visible que le bras de Dieu \u00e9tait contre\nmoi;--\u00abenfin, jeune homme, me d\u00e9clara-t-il, comptez bien que si vous ne\nvous en retournez, en quelque lieu que vous alliez, vous ne trouverez\nqu'adversit\u00e9 et d\u00e9sastre jusqu'\u00e0 ce que les paroles de votre p\u00e8re se\nv\u00e9rifient en vous.\u00bb\nJe lui r\u00e9pondis peu de chose; nous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s, et je\nne le revis plus; quelle route prit-il? je ne sais. Pour moi, ayant\nquelque argent dans ma poche, je m'en allai, par terre, \u00e0 Londres. L\u00e0,\ncomme sur la route, j'eus plusieurs combats avec moi-m\u00eame sur le genre\nde vie que je devais prendre, ne sachant si je devais retourner chez\nnous ou retourner sur mer.\nQuant \u00e0 mon retour au logis, la honte \u00e9touffait les meilleurs mouvements\nde mon esprit, et lui repr\u00e9sentait incessamment combien je serais raill\u00e9\ndans le voisinage et serais confus, non-seulement devant mon p\u00e8re et ma\nm\u00e8re, mais devant m\u00eame qui que ce f\u00fbt. D'o\u00f9 j'ai depuis souvent pris\noccasion d'observer combien est sotte et incons\u00e9quente la conduite\nordinaire des hommes et surtout de la jeunesse, \u00e0 l'\u00e9gard de cette\nraison qui devrait les guider en pareils cas: qu'ils ne sont pas honteux\nde l'action qui devrait, \u00e0 bon droit, les faire passer pour insens\u00e9s,\nmais qu'ils sont honteux de leur repentance, qui seule peut les faire\nhonorer comme sages.\nToutefois je demeurai quelque temps dans cette situation, ne sachant\nquel parti prendre, ni quelle carri\u00e8re embrasser, ni quel genre de vie\nmener. J'\u00e9prouvais toujours une r\u00e9pugnance invincible pour la maison\npaternelle; et, comme je balan\u00e7ais long-temps, le souvenir de la\nd\u00e9tresse o\u00f9 j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 s'\u00e9vanouissait, et avec lui mes faibles d\u00e9sirs\nde retour, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'enfin je les mis tout-\u00e0-fait de c\u00f4t\u00e9, et\ncherchai \u00e0 faire un voyage.\nCette maligne influence qui m'avait premi\u00e8rement pouss\u00e9 hors de la\nmaison paternelle, qui m'avait sugg\u00e9r\u00e9 l'id\u00e9e extravagante et\nind\u00e9termin\u00e9e de faire fortune, et qui m'avait inculqu\u00e9 si fortement ces\nfantaisies, que j'\u00e9tais devenu sourd aux bons avis, aux remontrances, et\nm\u00eame aux ordres de mon p\u00e8re; cette m\u00eame influence, donc, quelle qu'elle\nf\u00fbt, me fit concevoir la plus malheureuse de toutes les entreprises,\ncelle de monter \u00e0 bord d'un vaisseau partant pour la c\u00f4te d'Afrique, ou,\ncomme nos marins disent vulgairement, pour un voyage de Guin\u00e9e.\nCe fut un grand malheur pour moi, dans toutes ces aventures, que je ne\nfisse point, \u00e0 bord, le service comme un matelot; \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 j'aurais\ntravaill\u00e9 plus rudement que de coutume, mais en m\u00eame temps je me serais\ninstruit des devoirs et de l'office d'un marin; et, avec le temps,\nj'aurais pu me rendre apte \u00e0 faire un pilote ou un lieutenant, sinon un\ncapitaine. Mais ma destin\u00e9e \u00e9tait toujours de choisir le pire; parce que\nj'avais de l'argent en poche et de bons v\u00eatements sur le dos, je voulais\ntoujours aller \u00e0 bord comme un _gentleman;_ aussi je n'eus jamais aucune\ncharge sur un b\u00e2timent et ne sus jamais en remplir aucune.\nJ'eus la chance, d\u00e8s mon arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Londres, de tomber en assez bonne\ncompagnie, ce qui n'arrive pas toujours aux jeunes fous libertins et\nabandonn\u00e9s comme je l'\u00e9tais alors, le d\u00e9mon ne tardant pas g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement\n\u00e0 leur dresser quelques emb\u00fbches; mais pour moi il n'en fut pas ainsi.\nMa premi\u00e8re connaissance fut un capitaine de vaisseau qui, \u00e9tant all\u00e9\nsur la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e avec un tr\u00e8s-grand succ\u00e8s, avait r\u00e9solu d'y\nretourner; ayant pris go\u00fbt \u00e0 ma soci\u00e9t\u00e9, qui alors n'\u00e9tait pas du tout\nd\u00e9sagr\u00e9able, et m'ayant entendu parler de mon projet de voir le monde,\nil me dit:--\u00abSi vous voulez faire le voyage avec moi, vous n'aurez\naucune d\u00e9pense, vous serez mon commensal et mon compagnon; et si vous\nvouliez emporter quelque chose avec vous, vous jouiriez de touts les\navantages que le commerce offrirait, et peut-\u00eatre y trouveriez-vous\nquelque profit.\nJ'acceptai l'offre, et me liant d'\u00e9troite amiti\u00e9 avec ce capitaine, qui\n\u00e9tait un homme franc et honn\u00eate, je fis ce voyage avec lui, risquant une\npetite somme, que par sa probit\u00e9 d\u00e9sint\u00e9ress\u00e9e, j'augmentai\nconsid\u00e9rablement; car je n'emportai environ que pour quarante livres\nsterling de verroteries et de babioles qu'il m'avait conseill\u00e9\nd'acheter. Ces quarante livres sterling, je les avais amass\u00e9es par\nl'assistance de quelques-uns de mes parents avec lesquels je\ncorrespondais, et qui, je pense, avaient engag\u00e9 mon p\u00e8re ou au moins ma\nm\u00e8re \u00e0 contribuer d'autant \u00e0 ma premi\u00e8re entreprise.\nC'est le seul voyage o\u00f9 je puis dire avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 heureux dans toutes mes\nsp\u00e9culations, et je le dois \u00e0 l'int\u00e9grit\u00e9 et \u00e0 l'honn\u00eatet\u00e9 de mon ami le\ncapitaine; en outre j'y acquis aussi une suffisante connaissance des\nmath\u00e9matiques et des r\u00e8gles de la navigation; j'appris \u00e0 faire l'estime\nd'un vaisseau et \u00e0 prendre la hauteur; bref \u00e0 entendre quelques-unes des\nchoses qu'un homme de mer doit n\u00e9cessairement savoir. Autant mon\ncapitaine prenait de plaisir \u00e0 m'instruire, autant je prenais de plaisir\n\u00e0 \u00e9tudier; et en un mot ce voyage me fit tout \u00e0 la fois marin et\nmarchand. Pour ma pacotille, je rapportai donc cinq livres neuf onces de\npoudre d'or, qui me valurent, \u00e0 mon retour \u00e0 Londres, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s trois\ncents livres sterling, et me remplirent de pens\u00e9es ambitieuses qui, plus\ntard, consomm\u00e8rent ma ruine.\nN\u00e9anmoins, j'eus en ce voyage mes disgr\u00e2ces aussi; je fus surtout\ncontinuellement malade et jet\u00e9 dans une violente calenture[5] par la\nchaleur excessive du climat: notre principal trafic se faisant sur la\nc\u00f4te depuis le quinzi\u00e8me degr\u00e9 de latitude septentrionale jusqu'\u00e0\nl'\u00e9quateur.\nJe voulais alors me faire marchand de Guin\u00e9e, et pour mon malheur, mon\nami \u00e9tant mort peu de temps apr\u00e8s son arriv\u00e9e, je r\u00e9solus d'entreprendre\nencore ce voyage, et je m'embarquai sur le m\u00eame navire avec celui qui,\nla premi\u00e8re fois, en avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le contrema\u00eetre, et qui alors en avait\nobtenu le commandement. Jamais travers\u00e9e ne fut plus d\u00e9plorable; car\nbien que je n'emportasse pas tout-\u00e0-fait cent livres sterling de ma\nnouvelle richesse, laissant deux cents livres confi\u00e9es \u00e0 la veuve de mon\nami, qui fut tr\u00e8s-fid\u00e8le d\u00e9positaire, je ne laissai pas de tomber en de\nterribles infortunes. Notre vaisseau, cinglant vers les Canaries, ou\nplut\u00f4t entre ces \u00eeles et la c\u00f4te d'Afrique, fut surpris, \u00e0 l'aube du\njour, par un corsaire turc de Sall\u00e9, qui nous donna la chasse avec toute\nla voile qu'il pouvait faire. Pour le parer, nous for\u00e7\u00e2mes aussi de\nvoiles autant que nos vergues en purent d\u00e9ployer et nos m\u00e2ts en purent\ncharrier; mais, voyant que le pirate gagnait sur nous, et qu'assur\u00e9ment\navant peu d'heures il nous joindrait, nous nous pr\u00e9par\u00e2mes au combat.\nNotre navire avait douze canons et l'\u00e9cumeur en avait dix-huit.\nEnvirons \u00e0 trois heures de l'apr\u00e8s-midi, il entra dans nos eaux, et nous\nattaqua par m\u00e9prise, juste en travers de notre hanche, au lieu de nous\nenfiler par notre poupe, comme il le voulait. Nous point\u00e2mes huit de nos\ncanons de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, et lui envoy\u00e2mes une bord\u00e9e qui le fit reculer, apr\u00e8s\navoir r\u00e9pondu \u00e0 notre feu et avoir fait faire une mousqueterie \u00e0 pr\u00e8s de\ndeux cents hommes qu'il avait \u00e0 bord. Toutefois, tout notre monde se\ntenant couvert, pas un de nous n'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 touch\u00e9. Il se pr\u00e9para \u00e0 nous\nattaquer derechef, et nous, derechef, \u00e0 nous d\u00e9fendre; mais cette fois,\nvenant \u00e0 l'abordage par l'autre flanc. Il jeta soixante hommes sur notre\npont, qui aussit\u00f4t coup\u00e8rent et hach\u00e8rent nos agr\u00e8s. Nous les accabl\u00e2mes\nde coups de demi-piques, de coups de mousquets et de grenades d'une si\nrude mani\u00e8re, que deux fois nous les chass\u00e2mes de notre pont. Enfin,\npour abr\u00e9ger ce triste endroit de notre histoire, notre vaisseau \u00e9tant\nd\u00e9sempar\u00e9, trois de nos hommes tu\u00e9s et huit bless\u00e9s, nous f\u00fbmes\ncontraints de nous rendre, et nous f\u00fbmes touts conduits prisonniers \u00e0\nSall\u00e9, port appartenant aux Maures.\nL\u00e0, je re\u00e7us des traitements moins affreux que je ne l'avais appr\u00e9hend\u00e9\nd'abord. Ainsi que le reste de l'\u00e9quipage, je ne fus point emmen\u00e9 dans\nle pays \u00e0 la Cour de l'Empereur; le capitaine du corsaire me garda pour\nsa part de prise; et, comme j'\u00e9tais jeune, agile et \u00e0 sa convenance, il\nme fit son esclave.\nROBINSON CAPTIF\n\u00c0 ce changement subit decondition, qui, de marchand, me faisait\nmis\u00e9rable esclave, je fus profond\u00e9ment accabl\u00e9; je me ressouvins alors\ndu discours proph\u00e9tique de mon p\u00e8re: que je deviendrais mis\u00e9rable et\nn'aurais personne pour me secourir; je le crus ainsi tout-\u00e0-fait\naccompli, pensant que je ne pourrais jamais \u00eatre plus mal, que le bras\nde Dieu s'\u00e9tait appesanti sur moi, et que j'\u00e9tais perdu sans ressource.\nMais h\u00e9las! ce n'\u00e9tait qu'un avant-go\u00fbt des mis\u00e8res qui devaient me\ntraverser, comme on le verra dans la suite de cette histoire.\nMon nouveau patron ou ma\u00eetre m'avait pris avec lui dans sa maison;\nj'esp\u00e9rais aussi qu'il me prendrait avec lui quand de nouveau il irait\nen mer, et que t\u00f4t ou tard son sort serait d'\u00eatre pris par un vaisseau\nde guerre espagnol ou portugais, et qu'alors je recouvrerais ma libert\u00e9;\nmais cette esp\u00e9rance s'\u00e9vanouit bient\u00f4t, car lorsqu'il retournait en\ncourse, il me laissait \u00e0 terre pour soigner son petit jardin et faire \u00e0\nla maison la besogne ordinaire des esclaves; et quand il revenait de sa\ncroisi\u00e8re, il m'ordonnait de coucher dans sa cabine pour surveiller le\nnavire.\nL\u00e0, je songeais sans cesse \u00e0 mon \u00e9vasion et au moyen que je pourrais\nemployer pour l'effectuer, mais je ne trouvai aucun exp\u00e9dient qui offrit\nla moindre probabilit\u00e9, rien qui p\u00fbt faire supposer ce projet\nraisonnable; car je n'avais pas une seule personne \u00e0 qui le communiquer,\npour qu'elle s'embarqu\u00e2t avec moi; ni compagnons d'esclavage, ni\nAnglais, ni Irlandais, ni \u00c9cossais. De sorte que pendant deux ans,\nquoique je me ber\u00e7asse souvent de ce r\u00eave, je n'entrevis n\u00e9anmoins\njamais la moindre chance favorable de le r\u00e9aliser.\nAu bout de ce temps environ il se pr\u00e9senta une circonstance singuli\u00e8re\nqui me remit en t\u00eate mon ancien projet de faire quelque tentative pour\nrecouvrer ma libert\u00e9. Mon patron restant alors plus long-temps que de\ncoutume sans armer son vaisseau, et, \u00e0 ce que j'appris, faute d'argent,\navait habitude, r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement deux ou trois fois par semaine,\nquelquefois plus si le temps \u00e9tait beau, de prendre la pinasse du navire\net de s'en aller p\u00eacher dans la rade; pour tirer \u00e0 la rame il\nm'emmenait toujours avec lui, ainsi qu'un jeune Maurisque[6]; nous le\ndivertissions beaucoup, et je me montrais fort adroit \u00e0 attraper le\npoisson; si bien qu'il m'envoyait quelquefois avec un Maure de ses\nparents et le jeune gar\u00e7on, le Maurisque, comme on l'appelait, pour lui\np\u00eacher un plat de poisson.\nUne fois, il arriva qu'\u00e9tant all\u00e9 \u00e0 la p\u00eache, un matin, par un grand\ncalme, une brume s'\u00e9leva si \u00e9paisse que nous perd\u00eemes de vue le rivage,\nquoique nous n'en fussions pas \u00e9loign\u00e9s d'une demi-lieue. Ramant \u00e0\nl'aventure, nous travaill\u00e2mes tout le jour et toute la nuit suivante;\net, quand vint le matin, nous nous trouv\u00e2mes avoir gagn\u00e9 le large au\nlieu d'avoir gagn\u00e9 la rive, dont nous \u00e9tions \u00e9cart\u00e9s au moins de deux\nlieues. Cependant nous l'atteign\u00eemes, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 non sans beaucoup de\npeine et non sans quelque danger, car dans la matin\u00e9e le vent commen\u00e7a \u00e0\nsouffler assez fort, et nous \u00e9tions touts mourants de faim.\nOr, notre patron, mis en garde par cette aventure, r\u00e9solut d'avoir plus\nsoin de lui \u00e0 l'avenir; ayant \u00e0 sa disposition la chaloupe de notre\nnavire anglais qu'il avait captur\u00e9, il se d\u00e9termina \u00e0 ne plus aller \u00e0 la\np\u00eache sans une boussole et quelques provisions, et il ordonna au\ncharpentier de son b\u00e2timent, qui \u00e9tait aussi un Anglais esclave, d'y\nconstruire dans le milieu une chambre de parade ou cabine semblable \u00e0\ncelle d'un canot de plaisance, laissant assez de place derri\u00e8re pour\nmanier le gouvernail et border les \u00e9coutes, et assez de place devant\npour qu'une personne ou deux pussent man\u0153uvrer la voile. Cette chaloupe\ncinglait avec ce que nous appelons une voile _d'\u00e9paule de\nmouton_[7]qu'on amurait sur le fa\u00eete de la cabine, qui \u00e9tait basse et\n\u00e9troite, et contenait seulement une chambre \u00e0 coucher pour le patron et\nun ou deux esclaves, une table \u00e0 manger, et quelques \u00e9quipets pour\nmettre des bouteilles de certaines liqueurs \u00e0 sa convenance, et surtout\nson pain, son riz et son caf\u00e9.\nSur cette chaloupe, nous allions fr\u00e9quemment \u00e0 la p\u00eache; et comme\nj'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s-habile \u00e0 lui attraper du poisson, il n'y allait jamais sans\nmoi. Or, il advint qu'un jour, ayant projet\u00e9 de faire une promenade dans\nce bateau avec deux ou trois Maures de quelque distinction en cette\nplace, il fit de grands pr\u00e9paratifs, et, la veille, \u00e0 cet effet, envoya\nau bateau une plus grande quantit\u00e9 de provisions que de coutume, et me\ncommanda de tenir pr\u00eats trois fusils avec de la poudre et du plomb, qui\nse trouvaient \u00e0 bord de son vaisseau, parce qu'ils se proposaient le\nplaisir de la chasse aussi bien que celui de la p\u00eache.\nJe pr\u00e9parai toutes choses selon ses ordres, et le lendemain au matin\nj'attendais dans la chaloupe, lav\u00e9e et par\u00e9e avec guidon et flamme au\nvent, pour la digne r\u00e9ception de ses h\u00f4tes, lorsqu'incontinent mon\npatron vint tout seul \u00e0 bord, et me dit que ses convives avaient remis\nla partie, \u00e0 cause de quelques affaires qui leur \u00e9taient survenues. Il\nm'enjoignit ensuite, suivant l'usage, d'aller sur ce bateau avec le\nMaure et le jeune gar\u00e7on pour p\u00eacher quelques poissons, parce que ses\namis devaient souper chez lui, me recommandant de revenir \u00e0 la maison\naussit\u00f4t que j'aurais fait une bonne capture. Je me mis en devoir\nd'ob\u00e9ir.\nCette occasion r\u00e9veilla en mon esprit mes premi\u00e8res id\u00e9es de libert\u00e9;\ncar alorsje me trouvais sur le point d'avoir un petit navire \u00e0 mon\ncommandement. Mon ma\u00eetre \u00e9tant parti, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me munir, non\nd'ustensiles de p\u00eache, mais de provisions de voyage, quoique je ne susse\nni ne consid\u00e9rasse o\u00f9 je devais faire route, pour sortir de ce lieu,\ntout chemin m'\u00e9tant bon.\nMon premier soin fut de trouver un pr\u00e9texte pour engager le Maure \u00e0\nmettre \u00e0 bord quelque chose pour notre subsistance. Je lui dis qu'il ne\nfallait pas que nous comptassions manger le pain de notre patron.--Cela\nest juste, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il;--et il apporta une grande corbeille de _rusk_\nou de biscuit de mer de leur fa\u00e7on et trois jarres d'eau fra\u00eeche. Je\nsavais o\u00f9 mon ma\u00eetre avait plac\u00e9 son coffre \u00e0 liqueurs, qui cela \u00e9tait\n\u00e9vident par sa structure, devait provenir d'une prise faite sur les\nAnglais. J'en transportai les bouteilles dans la chaloupe tandis que le\nMaure \u00e9tait sur le rivage, comme si elles eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 mises l\u00e0\nauparavant pour notre ma\u00eetre. J'y transportai aussi un gros bloc de cire\nvierge qui pesait bien environ un demi-quintal, avec un paquet de fil ou\nficelle, une hache, une scie et un marteau, qui nous furent touts d'un\ngrand usage dans la suite, surtout le morceau de cire pour faire des\nchandelles. Puis j'essayai sur le Maure d'une autre tromperie dans\nlaquelle il donna encore innocemment. Son nom \u00e9tait Isma\u00ebl, dont les\nMaures font Muly ou Mol\u00e9y; ainsi l'appelai-je et lui dis-je:--Mol\u00e9y, les\nmousquets de notre patron sont \u00e0 bord de la chaloupe; ne pourriez-vous\npas vous procurer un peu de poudre et de plomb de chasse, afin de tuer,\npour nous autres, quelques _alcamies,_--oiseau semblable \u00e0 notre\ncourlieu,--car je sais qu'il a laiss\u00e9 \u00e0 bord du navire les provisions de\nla soute aux poudres.--Oui, dit-il, j'en apporterai un peu;--et en effet\nil apporta une grande poche de cuir contenant environ une livre et demie\nde poudre, plut\u00f4t plus que moins, et une autre poche pleine de plomb et\nde balles, pesant environ six livres, et il mit le tout dans la\nchaloupe. Pendant ce temps, dans la grande cabine de mon ma\u00eetre, j'avais\nd\u00e9couvert un peu de poudre dont j'emplis une grosse bouteille qui\ns'\u00e9tait trouv\u00e9e presque vide dans le bahut, apr\u00e8s avoir transvas\u00e9 ce qui\ny restait. Ainsi fournis de toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires, nous sort\u00eemes du\nhavre pour aller \u00e0 la p\u00eache. \u00c0 la forteresse qui est \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e du port\non savait qui nous \u00e9tions, on ne prit point garde \u00e0 nous. \u00c0 peine\n\u00e9tions-nous un mille en mer, nous amen\u00e2mes notre voile et nous nous\nass\u00eemes pour p\u00eacher. Le vent soufflait Nord-Nord-Est, ce qui \u00e9tait\ncontraire \u00e0 mon d\u00e9sir; car s'il avait souffl\u00e9 Sud, j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 certain\nd'atterrir \u00e0 la c\u00f4te d'Espagne, ou au moins d'atteindre la baie de\nCadix; mais ma r\u00e9solution \u00e9tait, vente qui vente, de sortir de cet\nhorrible lieu, et d'abandonner le reste au destin.\nApr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes p\u00each\u00e9 long-temps et rien pris; car lorsque j'avais\nun poisson \u00e0 mon hame\u00e7on, pour qu'on ne p\u00fbt le voir je ne le tirais\npoint dehors:--Nous ne faisons rien, dis-je au Maure; notre ma\u00eetre\nn'entend pas \u00eatre servi comme \u00e7a; il nous faut encore remonter plus au\nlarge.--Lui, n'y voyant pas malice, y consentit, et se trouvant \u00e0 la\nproue, d\u00e9ploya les voiles. Comme je tenais la barre du gouvernail, je\nconduisis l'embarcation \u00e0 une lieue au-del\u00e0; alors je mis en panne comme\nsi je voulais p\u00eacher et, tandis que le jeune gar\u00e7on tenait le timon,\nj'allai \u00e0 la proue vers le Maure; et, faisant comme si je me baissais\npour ramasser quelque chose derri\u00e8re lui, je le saisis par surprise en\npassant mon bras entre ses jambes, et je le lan\u00e7ai brusquement hors du\nbord dans la mer. Il se redressa aussit\u00f4t, car il nageait comme un\nli\u00e9ge, et, m'appelant, il me supplia de le reprendre \u00e0 bord, et me jura\nqu'il irait d'un bout \u00e0 l'autre du monde avec moi. Comme il nageait avec\nune grande vigueur apr\u00e8s la chaloupe et qu'il faisait alors peu de vent,\nil m'aurait promptement atteint.\nSur ce, j'allai dans la cabine, et, prenant une des arquebuses de\nchasse, je le couchai en joue et lui dis: Je ne vous ai pas fait de mal,\net, si vous ne vous obstinez pas, je ne vous en ferai point. Vous nagez\nbien assez pour regagner la rive; la mer est calme, h\u00e2tez-vous d'y\naller, je ne vous frapperai point; mais si vous vous approchez du\nbateau, je vous tire une balle dans la t\u00eate, car je suis r\u00e9solu \u00e0\nrecouvrer ma libert\u00e9. Alors il revira et nagea vers le rivage. Je ne\ndoute point qu'il ne l'ait atteint facilement, car c'\u00e9tait un excellent\nnageur.\nJ'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 plus satisfait d'avoir gard\u00e9 ce Maure et d'avoir noy\u00e9 le\njeune gar\u00e7on; mais, l\u00e0, je ne pouvais risquer de me confier \u00e0 lui. Quand\nil fut \u00e9loign\u00e9, je me tournai vers le jeune gar\u00e7on, appel\u00e9 Xury, et je\nlui dis:--Xury, si tu veux m'\u00eatre fid\u00e8le, je ferai de toi un homme; mais\nsi tu ne mets la main sur ta face que tu seras sinc\u00e8re avec moi,--ce qui\nest jurer par Mahomet et la barbe de son p\u00e8re,--il faut que je te jette\naussi dans la mer. Cet enfant me fit un sourire, et me parla si\ninnocemment que je n'aurais pu me d\u00e9fier de lui; puis il fit le serment\nde m'\u00eatre fid\u00e8le et de me suivre en tout lieux.\nTant que je fus en vue du Maure, qui \u00e9tait \u00e0 la nage, je portai\ndirectement au large, pr\u00e9f\u00e9rant bouliner, afin qu'on p\u00fbt croire que\nj'\u00e9tais all\u00e9 vers le d\u00e9troit[8], comme en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 on e\u00fbt pu le supposer\nde toute personne dans son bon sens; car aurait-on pu imaginer que nous\nfaisions route au Sud, vers une c\u00f4te v\u00e9ritablement barbare, o\u00f9 nous\n\u00e9tions s\u00fbrs que toutes les peuplades de n\u00e8gres nous entoureraient de\nleurs canots et nous d\u00e9soleraient; o\u00f9 nous ne pourrions aller au rivage\nsans \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les b\u00eates sauvages ou par de plus impitoyables\nsauvages de l'esp\u00e8ce humaine.\nMais aussit\u00f4t qu'il fit sombre, je changeai de route, et je gouvernai au\nSud-Est, inclinant un peu ma course vers l'Est, pour ne pas m'\u00e9loigner\nde la c\u00f4te; et, ayant un bon vent, une mer calme et unie, je fis\ntellement de la voile, que le lendemain, \u00e0 trois heures de l'apr\u00e8s-midi,\nquand je d\u00e9couvris premi\u00e8rement la terre, je devais \u00eatre au moins \u00e0 cent\ncinquante milles au Sud de Sall\u00e9, tout-\u00e0-fait au-del\u00e0 des \u00c9tats de\nl'Empereur de Maroc, et m\u00eame de tout autre roi de par-l\u00e0, car nous ne\nv\u00eemes personne.\nPREMI\u00c8RE AIGUADE\nToutefois, la peur que j'avais des Maures \u00e9tait si grande, et les\nappr\u00e9hensions que j'avais de tomber entre leurs mains \u00e9taient si\nterribles, que je ne voulus ni ralentir, ni aller \u00e0 terre, ni laisser\ntomber l'ancre. Le vent continuant \u00e0 \u00eatre favorable, je naviguai ainsi\ncinq jours durant; mais lorsqu'il euttourn\u00e9 au Sud, je conclus que si\nquelque vaisseau \u00e9tait en chasse apr\u00e8s moi, il devait alors se retirer;\naussi hasardai-je d'atterrir et mouillai-je l'ancre \u00e0 l'embouchure d'une\npetite rivi\u00e8re, je ne sais laquelle, je ne sais o\u00f9, ni quelle latitude,\nquelle contr\u00e9e, ou quelle nation: je n'y vis pas ni ne d\u00e9sirai point y\nvoir aucun homme; la chose importante dont j'avais besoin c'\u00e9tait de\nl'eau fra\u00eeche. Nous entr\u00e2mes dans cette crique sur le soir, nous\nd\u00e9terminant d'aller \u00e0 terre \u00e0 la nage sit\u00f4t qu'il ferait sombre, et de\nreconna\u00eetre le pays. Mais aussit\u00f4t qu'il fit enti\u00e8rement obscur, nous\nentend\u00eemes un si \u00e9pouvantable bruit d'aboiement, de hurlement et de\nrugissement de b\u00eates farouches dont nous ne connaissions pas l'esp\u00e8ce,\nque le pauvre petit gar\u00e7on faillit \u00e0 en mourir de frayeur, et me supplia\nde ne point descendre \u00e0 terre avant le jour.--\u00abBien, Xury, lui dis-je,\nmaintenant je n'irai point, mais peut-\u00eatre au jour verrons-nous des\nhommes qui seront plus m\u00e9chants pour nous que des lions.\u00bb--\u00abAlors nous\ntirer \u00e0 eux un coup de mousquet, dit en riant Xury, pour faire eux\ns'enfuir loin.\u00bb--Tel \u00e9tait l'anglais que Xury avait appris par la\nfr\u00e9quentation de nous autres esclaves. N\u00e9anmoins, je fus aise de voir\ncet enfant si r\u00e9solu, et je lui donnai, pour le r\u00e9conforter, un peu de\nliqueur tir\u00e9e d'une bouteille du coffre de notre patron. Apr\u00e8s tout,\nl'avis de Xury \u00e9tait bon, et je le suivis; nous mouill\u00e2mes notre petite\nancre, et nous demeur\u00e2mes tranquilles toute la nuit; je dis tranquilles\nparce que nous ne dorm\u00eemes pas, car durant deux ou trois heures nous\napper\u00e7\u00fbmes des cr\u00e9atures excessivement grandes et de diff\u00e9rentes\nesp\u00e8ces,--auxquelles nous ne savions quels noms donner,--qui\ndescendaient vers la rive et couraient dans l'eau, en se vautrant et se\nlavant pour le plaisir de se rafra\u00eechir; elles poussaient des hurlements\net des meuglements si affreux que jamais, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je n'ai rien ou\u00ef de\nsemblable.\nXury \u00e9tait horriblement effray\u00e9, et, au fait, je l'\u00e9tais aussi; mais\nnous f\u00fbmes tout deux plus effray\u00e9s encore quand nous entend\u00eemes une de\nces \u00e9normes cr\u00e9atures venir \u00e0 la nage vers notre chaloupe. Nous ne\npouvions la voir, mais nous pouvions reconna\u00eetre \u00e0 son soufflement que\nce devait \u00eatre une b\u00eate monstrueusement grosse et furieuse. Xury\npr\u00e9tendait que c'\u00e9tait un lion, cela pouvait bien \u00eatre; tout ce que je\nsais, c'est que le pauvre enfant me disait de lever l'ancre et de faire\nforce de rames.--\u00abNon pas, Xury, lui r\u00e9pondis-je; il vaut mieux filer\npar le bout notre c\u00e2ble avec une bou\u00e9e, et nous \u00e9loigner en mer; car il\nne pourra nous suivre fort loin. Je n'eus pas plus t\u00f4t parl\u00e9 ainsi que\nj'apper\u00e7us cet animal,--quel qu'il f\u00fbt,--\u00e0 deux port\u00e9es d'aviron, ce qui\nme surprit un peu. N\u00e9anmoins, aussit\u00f4t j'allai \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e de la cabine,\nje pris mon mousquet et je fis feu sur lui: \u00e0 ce coup il tournoya et\nnagea de nouveau vers le rivage.\nIl est impossible de d\u00e9crire le tumulte horrible, les cris affreux et\nles hurlements qui s'\u00e9lev\u00e8rent sur le bord du rivage et dans l'int\u00e9rieur\ndes terres, au bruit et au retentissement de mon mousquet; je pense avec\nquelque raison que ces cr\u00e9atures n'avaient auparavant jamais rien ou\u00ef de\npareil. Ceci me fit voir que nous ne devions pas descendre sur cette\nc\u00f4te pendant la nuit, et combien il serait chanceux de s'y hasarder\npendant le jour, car tomber entre les mains de quelques Sauvages \u00e9tait,\npour nous, tout aussi redoutable que de tomber dans les griffes des\nlions et des tigres; du moins appr\u00e9hendions-nous \u00e9galement l'un et\nl'autre danger.\nQuoi qu'il en f\u00fbt, nous \u00e9tions oblig\u00e9s d'aller quelque part \u00e0 l'aiguade;\nil ne nous restait pas \u00e0 bord une pinte d'eau; mais quand? mais o\u00f9?\nc'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 l'embarras. Xury me dit que si je voulais le laisser aller \u00e0\nterre avec une des jarres, il d\u00e9couvrirait s'il y avait de l'eau et m'en\napporterait. Je lui demandai pourquoi il y voulait aller; pourquoi ne\nresterait-il pas dans la chaloupe, et moi-m\u00eame n'irais-je pas. Cet\nenfant me r\u00e9pondit avec tant d'affection que je l'en aimai toujours\ndepuis. Il me dit: \u00ab--Si les Sauvages hommes venir, eux manger moi, vous\ns'enfuir.\u00bb--\u00abBien, Xury, m'\u00e9criai-je, nous irons tout deux, et si les\nhommes sauvages viennent, nous les tuerons; ils ne nous mangeront ni\nl'un ni l'autre.\u00bb--Alors je donnai \u00e0 Xury un morceau de biscuit et \u00e0\nboire une gorg\u00e9e de la liqueur tir\u00e9e du coffre de notre patron, dont\nj'ai parl\u00e9 pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment; puis, ayant hal\u00e9 la chaloupe aussi pr\u00e8s du\nrivage que nous le jugions convenable, nous descend\u00eemes \u00e0 terre,\nn'emportant seulement avec nous que nos armes et deux jarres pour faire\nde l'eau.\nJe n'eus garde d'aller hors de la vue de notre chaloupe, craignant une\ndescente de canots de Sauvages sur la rivi\u00e8re; mais le petit gar\u00e7on\nayant apper\u00e7u un lieu bas \u00e0 environ un mille dans les terres, il y\ncourut, et aussit\u00f4t je le vis revenir vers moi. Je pensai qu'il \u00e9tait\npoursuivi par quelque Sauvage ou \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 par quelque b\u00eate f\u00e9roce; je\nvolai \u00e0 son secours; mais quand je fus assez proche de lui, je\ndistinguai quelque chose qui pendait sur son \u00e9paule: c'\u00e9tait un animal\nsur lequel il avait tir\u00e9, semblable \u00e0 un li\u00e8vre, mais d'une couleur\ndiff\u00e9rente et plus long des jambes. Toutefois, nous en f\u00fbmes fort\njoyeux, car ce fut un excellent manger; mais ce qui avait caus\u00e9 la\ngrande joie du pauvre Xury, c'\u00e9tait de m'apporter la nouvelle qu'il\navait trouv\u00e9 de la bonne eau sans rencontrer de Sauvages.\nNous v\u00eemes ensuite qu'il ne nous \u00e9tait pas n\u00e9cessaire de prendre tant de\npeines pour faire de l'eau; car un peu au-dessus de la crique o\u00f9 nous\n\u00e9tions nous trouv\u00e2mes l'eau douce; quand la mar\u00e9e \u00e9tait basse elle\nremontait fort peu avant. Ainsi nous empl\u00eemes nos jarres, nous nous\nr\u00e9gal\u00e2mes du li\u00e8vre que nous avions tu\u00e9, et nous nous pr\u00e9par\u00e2mes \u00e0\nreprendre notre route sans avoir d\u00e9couvert un vestige humain dans cette\nportion de la contr\u00e9e.\nComme j'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait un voyage \u00e0 cette c\u00f4te, je savais tr\u00e8s-bien que\nles \u00eeles Canaries et les \u00eeles du Cap-Vert n'\u00e9taient pas \u00e9loign\u00e9es; mais\ncomme je n'avais pas d'instruments pour prendre hauteur et conna\u00eetre la\nlatitude o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions, et ne sachant pas exactement ou au moins ne me\nrappelant pas dans quelle latitude elles \u00e9taient elles-m\u00eames situ\u00e9es, je\nne savais o\u00f9 les chercher ni quand il faudrait, de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, porter le\ncap au large; sans cela, j'aurais pu ais\u00e9ment trouver une de ces \u00eeles.\nEn tenant le long de la c\u00f4te jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'arrivasse \u00e0 la partie o\u00f9\ntrafiquent les Anglais, mon espoir \u00e9tait de rencontrer en op\u00e9ration\nhabituelle de commerce quelqu'un de leurs vaisseaux qui nous secourrait\net nous prendrait \u00e0 bord.\nSuivant mon calcul le plus exact, le lieu o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais alors doit \u00eatre\ncette contr\u00e9e s'\u00e9tendant entre les possessions de l'Empereur de Maroc et\nla Nigritie; contr\u00e9e inculte, peupl\u00e9e seulement par les b\u00eates f\u00e9roces,\nles n\u00e8gres l'ayant abandonn\u00e9e et s'\u00e9tant retir\u00e9s plus au midi, de peur\ndes Maures; et les Maures d\u00e9daignant de l'habiter \u00e0 cause de sa\nst\u00e9rilit\u00e9; mais au fait les uns et les autres y ont renonc\u00e9 parce\nqu'elle est le repaire d'une quantit\u00e9 prodigieuse de tigres, de lions,\nde l\u00e9opards et d'autres farouches cr\u00e9atures; aussi ne sert-elle aux\nMaures que pour leurs chasses, o\u00f9 ils vont, comme une arm\u00e9e, deux ou\ntrois mille hommes \u00e0 la fois. V\u00e9ritablement durant pr\u00e8s de cent milles\nde suite sur cette c\u00f4te nous ne v\u00eemes pendant le jour qu'un pays agreste\net d\u00e9sert, et n'entend\u00eemes pendant la nuit que les hurlements et les\nrugissements des b\u00eates sauvages.\nUne ou deux fois dans la journ\u00e9e je crus appercevoir le pic de\nT\u00e9n\u00e9riffe, qui est la haute cime du mont T\u00e9n\u00e9riffe dans les Canaries, et\nj'eus grande envie de m'aventurer au large dans l'espoir de l'atteindre;\nmais l'ayant essay\u00e9 deux fois, je fus repouss\u00e9 par les vents contraires;\net comme aussi la mer \u00e9tait trop grosse pour mon petit vaisseau, je\nr\u00e9solus de continuer mon premier dessein de c\u00f4toyer le rivage.\nApr\u00e8s avoir quitt\u00e9 ce lieu, je fus plusieurs fois oblig\u00e9 d'aborder pour\nfaire aiguade; et une fois entre autres qu'il \u00e9tait de bon matin, nous\nv\u00eenmes mouiller sous une petite pointe de terre assez \u00e9lev\u00e9e, et la\nmar\u00e9e commen\u00e7ant \u00e0 monter, nous attendions tranquillement qu'elle nous\nport\u00e2t plus avant. Xury, qui, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, avait plus que moi\nl'\u0153il au guet, m'appela doucement et me dit que nous ferions mieux de\nnous \u00e9loigner du rivage.--\u00abCar regardez l\u00e0-bas, ajouta-t-il, ce monstre\naffreux \u00e9tendu sur le flanc de cette colline, et profond\u00e9ment endormi.\u00bb\nJe regardai au lieu qu'il d\u00e9signait, et je vis un monstre \u00e9pouvantable,\nen v\u00e9rit\u00e9, car c'\u00e9tait un \u00e9norme et terrible lion couch\u00e9 sur le penchant\ndu rivage, \u00e0 l'ombre d'une portion de la montagne, qui, en quelque\nsorte, pendait presque au-dessus de lui.--\u00abXury, lui dis-je, va \u00e0 terre,\net tue-le.\u00bb Xury parut effray\u00e9, et r\u00e9pliqua:--\u00abMoi tuer! lui manger moi\nd'une seule bouche.\u00bb Il voulait dire d'une seule bouch\u00e9e. Toutefois, je\nne dis plus rien \u00e0 ce gar\u00e7on; seulement je lui ordonnai de rester\ntranquille, et je pris notre plus gros fusil, qui \u00e9tait presque du\ncalibre d'un mousquet, et, apr\u00e8s yavoir mis une bonne charge de poudre\net deux lingots, je le posai \u00e0 terre; puis en chargeai un autre \u00e0 deux\nballes; et le troisi\u00e8me, car nous en avions trois, je le chargeai de\ncinq chevrotines. Je pointai du mieux que je pus ma premi\u00e8re arme pour\nle frapper \u00e0 la t\u00eate; mais il \u00e9tait couch\u00e9 de telle fa\u00e7on, avec une\npatte pass\u00e9e un peu au-dessus de son mufle, que les lingots\nl'atteignirent \u00e0 la jambe, pr\u00e8s du genou, et lui bris\u00e8rent l'os. Il\ntressaillit d'abord en grondant; mais sentant sa jambe bris\u00e9e, il se\nrabattit, puis il se dressa sur trois jambes, et jeta le plus effroyable\nrugissement que j'entendis jamais. Je fus un peu surpris de ne l'avoir\npoint frapp\u00e9 \u00e0 la t\u00eate. N\u00e9anmoins je pris aussit\u00f4t mon second mousquet,\net quoiqu'il commen\u00e7\u00e2t \u00e0 s'\u00e9loigner je fis feu de nouveau; je\nl'atteignis \u00e0 la t\u00eate, et j'eus le plaisir de le voir se laisser tomber\nsilencieusement et se raidir en luttant contre la mort. Xury prit alors\ndu c\u0153ur, et me demanda de le laisser aller \u00e0 terre. \u00abSoit; va, lui\ndis-je.\u00bb Aussit\u00f4t ce gar\u00e7on sauta \u00e0 l'eau, et tenant un petit mousquet\nd'une main, il nagea de l'autre jusqu'au rivage. Puis, s'\u00e9tant approch\u00e9\ndu lion, il lui posa le canon du mousquet \u00e0 l'oreille et le lui\nd\u00e9chargea aussi dans la t\u00eate, ce qui l'exp\u00e9dia tout-\u00e0-fait.\nC'\u00e9tait v\u00e9ritablement une chasse pour nous, mais ce n'\u00e9tait pas du\ngibier, et j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s-f\u00e2ch\u00e9 de perdre trois charges de poudre et des\nballes sur une cr\u00e9ature qui n'\u00e9tait bonne \u00e0 rien pour nous. Xury,\nn\u00e9anmoins, voulait en emporter quelque chose. Il vint donc \u00e0 bord, et me\ndemanda de lui donner la hache.--\u00abPourquoi faire, Xury? lui\ndis-je.\u00bb--\u00abMoi trancher sa t\u00eate, r\u00e9pondit-il.\u00bb Toutefois Xury ne put pas\nla lui trancher, mais il lui coupa une patte qu'il m'apporta: elle \u00e9tait\nmonstrueuse.\nCependant je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis que sa peau pourrait sans doute, d'une fa\u00e7on ou\nd'une autre, nous \u00eatre de quelque valeur, et je r\u00e9solus de l'\u00e9corcher si\nje le pouvais. Xury et moi all\u00e2mes donc nous mettre \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre; mais \u00e0\ncette besogne Xury \u00e9tait de beaucoup le meilleur ouvrier, car je ne\nsavais comment m'y prendre. Au fait, cela nous occupa tout deux durant\nla journ\u00e9e enti\u00e8re; enfin nous en v\u00eenmes \u00e0 bout, et nous l'\u00e9tend\u00eemes sur\nle toit de notre cabine. Le soleil la s\u00e9cha parfaitement en deux jours.\nJe m'en servis ensuite pour me coucher dessus.\nApr\u00e8s cette halte, nous navigu\u00e2mes continuellement vers le Sud pendant\ndix ou douze jours, usant avec parcimonie de nos provisions, qui\ncommen\u00e7aient \u00e0 diminuer beaucoup, et ne descendant \u00e0 terre que lorsque\nnous y \u00e9tions oblig\u00e9s pour aller \u00e0 l'aiguade. Mon dessein \u00e9tait alors\nd'atteindre le fleuve de Gambie ou le fleuve de S\u00e9n\u00e9gal, c'est-\u00e0-dire\naux environs du Cap-Vert, o\u00f9 j'esp\u00e9rais rencontrer quelque b\u00e2timent\neurop\u00e9en; le cas contraire \u00e9ch\u00e9ant, je ne savais plus quelle route\ntenir, \u00e0 moins que je me misse \u00e0 la recherche des \u00eeles ou que j'allasse\np\u00e9rir au milieu des N\u00e8gres.\nROBINSON ET XURY VAINQUEURS D'UN LION\nJe savais que touts les vaisseaux qui font voile pour la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e,\nle Br\u00e9sil ou les Indes-Orientales, touchent \u00e0 ce cap ou \u00e0 ces \u00eeles. En\nun mot, je pla\u00e7ais l\u00e0 toute l'alternative de mon sort, soit que je dusse\nrencontrer un b\u00e2timent, soit que je dusse p\u00e9rir.\nQuand j'eus suivi cette r\u00e9solution pendant environ dix jours de plus,\ncomme je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m'appercevoir que la c\u00f4te \u00e9tait\nhabit\u00e9e, et en deux ou trois endroits que nous longions, nous v\u00eemes des\ngens qui s'arr\u00eataient sur le rivage pour nous regarder; nous pouvions\naussi distinguer qu'ils \u00e9taient enti\u00e8rement noirs et tout-\u00e0-fait nus.\nJ'eus une fois l'envie de descendre \u00e0 terre vers eux; mais Xury fut\nmeilleur conseiller, et me dit:--\u00abPas aller! Pas aller!\u00bb Je halai\ncependant plus pr\u00e8s du rivage afin de pouvoir leur parler, et ils me\nsuivirent pendant quelque temps le long de la rive. Je remarquai qu'ils\nn'avaient point d'armes \u00e0 la main, un seul except\u00e9 qui portait un long\net mince b\u00e2ton, que Xury dit \u00eatre une lance qu'ils pouvaient lancer fort\nloin avec beaucoup de justesse. Je me tins donc \u00e0 distance, mais je\ncausai avec eux, par gestes, aussi bien que je pus, et particuli\u00e8rement\npour leur demander quelque chose \u00e0 manger. Ils me firent signe d'arr\u00eater\nma chaloupe, et qu'ils iraient me chercher quelque nourriture. Sur ce,\nj'abaissai le haut de ma voile; je m'arr\u00eatai proche, et deux d'entre eux\ncoururent dans le pays, et en moins d'une demi-heure revinrent,\napportant avec eux deux morceaux de viande s\u00e8che et du grain,\nproductions de leur contr\u00e9e. Ni Xury ni moi ne savions ce que c'\u00e9tait;\npourtant nous \u00e9tions fort d\u00e9sireux de le recevoir; mais comment y\nparvenir? Ce fut l\u00e0 notre embarras. Je n'osais pas aller \u00e0 terre vers\neux, qui n'\u00e9taient pas moins effray\u00e9s denous. Bref, ils prirent un\nd\u00e9tour excellent pour nous touts; ils d\u00e9pos\u00e8rent les provisions sur le\nrivage, et se retir\u00e8rent \u00e0 une grande distance jusqu'\u00e0 ce que nous les\ne\u00fbmes toutes embarqu\u00e9es, puis ils se rapproch\u00e8rent de nous.\nN'ayant rien \u00e0 leur donner en \u00e9change, nous leur faisions des signes de\nremerciements, quand tout-\u00e0-coup s'offrit une merveilleuse occasion de\nles obliger. Tandis que nous \u00e9tions arr\u00eat\u00e9s pr\u00e8s de la c\u00f4te, voici venir\ndes montagnes deux \u00e9normes cr\u00e9atures se poursuivant avec fureur.\n\u00c9tait-ce le m\u00e2le qui poursuivait la femelle? \u00c9taient-ils en \u00e9bats ou en\nrage? Il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible de le dire. \u00c9tait-ce ordinaire ou \u00e9trange?\nje ne sais. Toutefois, je pencherais plut\u00f4t pour le dernier, parce que\nces animaux voraces n'apparaissent gu\u00e8re que la nuit, et parce que nous\nv\u00eemes la foule horriblement \u00e9pouvant\u00e9e, surtout les femmes. L'homme qui\nportait la lance ou le dard ne prit point la fuite \u00e0 leur aspect comme\ntout le reste. N\u00e9anmoins, ces deux cr\u00e9atures coururent droit \u00e0 la mer,\net, ne montrant nulle intention de se jeter sur un seul de ces N\u00e8gres,\nelles se plong\u00e8rent dans les flots et se mirent \u00e0 nager \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, comme\nsi elles y \u00e9taient venues pour leur divertissement. Enfin un de ces\nanimaux commen\u00e7a \u00e0 s'approcher de mon embarcation plus pr\u00e8s que je ne\nm'y serais attendu d'abord; mais j'\u00e9tais en garde contre lui, car\nj'avais charg\u00e9 mon mousquet avec toute la promptitude possible, et\nj'avais ordonn\u00e9 \u00e0 Xury de charger les autres. D\u00e8s qu'il fut \u00e0 ma port\u00e9e,\nje fis feu, et je le frappai droit \u00e0 la t\u00eate. Aussit\u00f4t il s'enfon\u00e7a dans\nl'eau, mais aussit\u00f4t il reparut et plongea et replongea, semblant lutter\navec la vie ce qui \u00e9tait en effet, car imm\u00e9diatement il se dirigea vers\nle rivage et p\u00e9rit juste au moment de l'atteindre, tant \u00e0 cause des\ncoups mortels qu'il avait re\u00e7us que de l'eau qui l'\u00e9touffa.\nIl serait impossible d'exprimer l'\u00e9tonnement de ces pauvres gens au\nbruit et au feu de mon mousquet. Quelques-uns d'entre eux faillirent \u00e0\nen mourir d'effroi, et, comme morts, tomb\u00e8rent contre terre dans la plus\ngrande terreur. Mais quand ils eurent vu l'animal tu\u00e9 et enfonc\u00e9 sous\nl'eau, et que je leur eus fait signe de revenir sur le bord, ils prirent\ndu c\u0153ur; ils s'avanc\u00e8rent vers la rive et se mirent \u00e0 sa recherche. Son\nsang, qui teignait l'eau, me le fit d\u00e9couvrir; et, \u00e0 l'aide d'une corde\ndont je l'entourai et que je donnai aux N\u00e8gres pour le haler, ils le\ntra\u00een\u00e8rent au rivage. L\u00e0, il se trouva que c'\u00e9tait un l\u00e9opard des plus\ncurieux, parfaitement mouchet\u00e9 et superbe. Les N\u00e8gres levaient leurs\nmains dans l'admiration de penser ce que pouvait \u00eatre ce avec quoi je\nl'avais tu\u00e9.\nL'autre animal, effray\u00e9 par l'\u00e9clair et la d\u00e9tonation de mon mousquet,\nregagna la rive \u00e0 la nage et s'enfuit directement vers les montagnes\nd'o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait venu, et je ne pus, \u00e0 cette distance, reconna\u00eetre ce qu'il\n\u00e9tait. Je m'apper\u00e7us bient\u00f4t que les N\u00e8gres \u00e9taient dispos\u00e9s \u00e0 manger la\nchair du l\u00e9opard; aussi voulus-je le leur faire accepter comme une\nfaveur de ma part; et, quand par mes signes je leur eus fait savoir\nqu'ils pouvaient le prendre ils en furent tr\u00e8s-reconnaissants. Aussit\u00f4t\nils se mirent \u00e0 l'ouvrage et l'\u00e9corch\u00e8rent avec un morceau de bois\naffil\u00e9, aussi promptement, m\u00eame plus promptement que nous ne pourrions\nle faire avec un couteau. Ils m'offrirent de sa chair; j'\u00e9ludai cette\noffre, affectant de vouloir la leur abandonner; mais, par mes signes,\nleur demandant la peau, qu'ils me donn\u00e8rent tr\u00e8s-franchement, en\nm'apportant en outre une grande quantit\u00e9 de leurs victuailles, que\nj'acceptai, quoiqu'elles me fussent inconnues. Alors je leur fis des\nsignes pour avoir de l'eau, et je leur montrai une de mes jarres en la\ntournant sens dessus dessous, pour faire voir qu'elle \u00e9tait vide et que\nj'avais besoin qu'elle f\u00fbt remplie. Aussit\u00f4t ils appel\u00e8rent quelques-uns\ndes leurs, et deux femmes vinrent, apportant un grand vase de terre qui,\nje le suppose, \u00e9tait cuite au soleil. Ainsi que pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, ils le\nd\u00e9pos\u00e8rent, pour moi, sur le rivage. J'y envoyai Xury avec mes jarres,\net il les remplit toutes trois. Les femmes \u00e9taient aussi compl\u00e8tement\nnues que les hommes.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors fourni d'eau, de racines et de grains tels quels; je pris\ncong\u00e9 de mes bons N\u00e8gres, et, sans m'approcher du rivage, je continuai\nma course pendant onze jours environ, avant que je visse devant moi la\nterre s'avancer bien avant dans l'oc\u00e9an \u00e0 la distance environ de quatre\nou cinq lieues. Comme la mer \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s-calme, je me mis au large pour\ngagner cette pointe. Enfin, la doublant \u00e0 deux lieues de la c\u00f4te, je vis\ndistinctement des terres \u00e0 l'opposite; alors je conclus, au fait cela\n\u00e9tait indubitable, que d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 j'avais le Cap-Vert, et de l'autre ces\n\u00eeles qui lui doivent leur nom. Toutefois elles \u00e9taient fort \u00e9loign\u00e9es,\net je ne savais pas trop ce qu'il fallait que je fisse; car si j'avais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 surpris par un coup de vent, il m'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible d'atteindre ni\nl'un ni l'autre.\nDans cette perplexit\u00e9, comme j'\u00e9tais fort pensif, j'entrai dans la\ncabine et je m'assis, laissant \u00e0 Xury la barre du gouvernail, quand\nsubitement ce jeune gar\u00e7on s'\u00e9cria:--\u00abMa\u00eetre! ma\u00eetre! un vaisseau avec\nune voile!\u00bb La frayeur avait mis hors de lui-m\u00eame ce simple enfant, qui\npensait qu'infailliblement c'\u00e9tait un des vaisseaux de son ma\u00eetre\nenvoy\u00e9s \u00e0 notre poursuite, tandis que nous \u00e9tions, comme je ne\nl'ignorais pas, tout-\u00e0-fait hors de son atteinte. Je m'\u00e9lan\u00e7ai de ma\ncabine, et non-seulement je vis imm\u00e9diatement le navire, mais encore je\nreconnus qu'il \u00e9tait Portugais. Je le crus d'abord destin\u00e9 \u00e0 faire la\ntraite des N\u00e8gres sur la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e; mais quand j'eus remarqu\u00e9 la\nroute qu'il tenait, je fus bient\u00f4t convaincu qu'il avait tout autre\ndestination, et que son dessein n'\u00e9tait pas de serrer la terre. Alors,\nje portai le cap au large, et je for\u00e7ai de voile au plus pr\u00e8s, r\u00e9solu de\nlui parler s'il \u00e9tait possible.\nAvec toute la voile que je pouvais faire, je vis que jamais je ne\nviendrais dans ses eaux, et qu'il serait pass\u00e9 avant que je pusse lui\ndonner aucun signal. Mais apr\u00e8s avoir forc\u00e9 \u00e0 tout rompre, comme\nj'allais perdre esp\u00e9rance, il m'apper\u00e7ut sans doute \u00e0 l'aide de ses\nlunettes d'approche; et, reconnaissant que c'\u00e9tait une embarcation\neurop\u00e9enne, qu'il supposa appartenir \u00e0 quelque vaisseau naufrag\u00e9, il\ndiminua de voiles afin que je l'atteignisse. Ceci m'encouragea, et comme\nj'avais \u00e0 bord le pavillon de mon patron, je le hissai en berne en\nsignal de d\u00e9tresse et je tirai un coup de mousquet. Ces deux choses\nfurent remarqu\u00e9es, car j'appris plus tard qu'on avait vu la fum\u00e9e, bien\nqu'on n'e\u00fbt pas entendu la d\u00e9tonation. \u00c0 ces signaux, le navire mit pour\nmoi complaisamment \u00e0 la cape et cap\u00e9a. En trois heures environ je le\njoignis.\nOn me demanda en portugais, puis en espagnol, puis en fran\u00e7ais, qui\nj'\u00e9tais; mais je ne comprenais aucune de ces langues. \u00c0 la fin, un\nmatelot \u00e9cossais qui se trouvait \u00e0 bord m'appela, et je lui r\u00e9pondis et\nlui dis que j'\u00e9tais Anglais, et que je venais de m'\u00e9chapper de\nl'esclavage des Maures de Sall\u00e9; alors on m'invita \u00e0 venir \u00e0 bord, et on\nm'y re\u00e7ut tr\u00e8s-obligeamment avec touts mes bagages.\nJ'\u00e9tais dans une joie inexprimable, comme chacun peut le croire, d'\u00eatre\nainsi d\u00e9livr\u00e9 d'une condition que je regardais comme tout-\u00e0-fait\nmis\u00e9rable et d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e, et je m'empressai d'offrir au capitaine du\nvaisseau tout ce que je poss\u00e9dais pour prix de ma d\u00e9livrance. Mais il me\nr\u00e9pondit g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement qu'il n'accepterait rien de moi, et que tout ce\nque j'avais me serait rendu intact \u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e au Br\u00e9sil.--\u00abCar,\ndit-il, je vous ai sauv\u00e9 la vie comme je serais fort aise qu'on me la\nsauv\u00e2t. Peut-\u00eatre m'est-il r\u00e9serv\u00e9 une fois ou une autre d'\u00eatre secouru\ndans une semblable position. En outre, en vous conduisant au Br\u00e9sil, \u00e0\nune si grande distance de votre pays, si j'acceptais de vous ce que vous\npouvez avoir, vous y mourriez de faim, et alors je vous reprendrais la\nvie que je vous ai donn\u00e9e. Non, non, Senhor Inglez[9], c'est-\u00e0-dire\nmonsieur l'Anglais, je veux vous y conduire par pure commis\u00e9ration; et\nces choses-l\u00e0 vous y serviront \u00e0 payer votre subsistance et votre\ntravers\u00e9e de retour.\u00bb\nIl fut aussi scrupuleux dans l'accomplissement de ses promesses, qu'il\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 charitable dans ses propositions; car il d\u00e9fendit aux matelots\nde toucher \u00e0 rien de ce qui m'appartenait; il prit alors le tout en sa\ngarde et m'en donna ensuite un exact inventaire, pour que je pusse tout\nrecouvrer; tout, jusqu'\u00e0 mes trois jarres de terre.\nQuant \u00e0 ma chaloupe, elle \u00e9tait fort bonne; il le vit, et me proposa de\nl'acheter pour l'usage de son navire, et me demanda ce que j'en voudrais\navoir. Je lui r\u00e9pondis qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9, \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard, trop g\u00e9n\u00e9reux en\ntoutes choses, pour que je me permisse de fixer aucun prix, et que je\nm'en rapportais \u00e0 sa discr\u00e9tion. Sur quoi, il me dit qu'il me ferait, de\nsa main, un billet de quatre-vingts pi\u00e8ces de huit payable au Br\u00e9sil; et\nque, si arriv\u00e9 l\u00e0, quelqu'un m'en offrait davantage, il me tiendrait\ncompte de l'exc\u00e9dant. Il me proposa en outre soixante pi\u00e8ces de huit\npour mon gar\u00e7on Xury. J'h\u00e9sitai \u00e0 les accepter; non que je r\u00e9pugnasse \u00e0\nle laisser au capitaine, mais \u00e0 vendre la libert\u00e9 de ce pauvre enfant,\nqui m'avait aid\u00e9 si fid\u00e8lement \u00e0 recouvrer la mienne. Cependant, lorsque\nje lui eus fait savoir ma raison, il la reconnut juste, et me proposa\npour accommodement, de donner au jeune gar\u00e7on une obligation de le\nrendre libre au bout de dix ans s'il voulait se faire chr\u00e9tien. Sur\ncela, Xury consentant \u00e0 le suivre, je l'abandonnai au capitaine.\nNous e\u00fbmes une tr\u00e8s-heureuse navigation jusqu'au Br\u00e9sil, et nous\narriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 la _Bahia de Todos os Santos,_ ou Baie de Touts les Saints,\nenviron vingt-deux jours apr\u00e8s. J'\u00e9tais alors, pour la seconde fois,\nd\u00e9livr\u00e9 de la plus mis\u00e9rable de toutes les conditions de la vie, et\nj'avais alors \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ce que prochainement je devais faire de moi.\nPROPOSITIONS DES TROIS COLONS\nLa g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse conduite du capitaine \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard ne saurait \u00eatre trop\nlou\u00e9e. Il ne voulut rien recevoir pour mon passage; Il me donna vingt\nducats pour la peau du l\u00e9opard et quarante pour la peau du lion que\nj'avais dans ma chaloupe. Il me fit remettre ponctuellement tout ce qui\nm'appartenait en son vaisseau, et tout ce que j'\u00e9tais dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 vendre\nil me l'acheta: tel que le bahut aux bouteilles, deux de mes mousquets\net un morceau restant du bloc de cire vierge, dont j'avais fait des\nchandelles. En un mot, je tirai environ deux cent vingt pi\u00e8ces de huit\nde toute ma cargaison, et, avec ce capital, je mis pied \u00e0 terre au\nBr\u00e9sil.\nL\u00e0, peu de temps apr\u00e8s, le capitaine me recommanda dans la maison d'un\ntr\u00e8s-honn\u00eate homme, comme lui-m\u00eame, qui avait ce qu'on appelle un\n_engenho_[10], c'est-\u00e0-dire une plantation et une sucrerie. Je v\u00e9cus\nquelque temps chez lui, et, par ce moyen, je pris connaissance de la\nmani\u00e8re de planter et de faire le sucre. Voyant la bonne vie que\nmenaient les planteurs, et combien ils s'enrichissaient promptement, je\nr\u00e9solus, si je pouvais en obtenir la licence, de m'\u00e9tablir parmi eux, et\nde me faire planteur, prenant en m\u00eame temps la d\u00e9termination de chercher\nquelque moyen pour recouvrer l'argent que j'avais laiss\u00e9 \u00e0 Londres. Dans\nce dessein, ayant obtenu une sorte de lettre de naturalisation,\nj'achetai autant de terre inculte que mon argent me le permit, et je\nformai un plan pour ma plantation et mon \u00e9tablissement proportionn\u00e9 \u00e0 la\nsomme que j'esp\u00e9rais recevoir de Londres.\nJ'avais un voisin, un Portugais de Lisbonne, mais n\u00e9 de parents anglais;\nson nom \u00e9tait Wells, et il se trouvait \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s dans les m\u00eames\ncirconstances que moi. Je l'appelle voisin parce que sa plantation \u00e9tait\nproche de la mienne, et que nous vivions tr\u00e8s-amicalement. Mon avoir\n\u00e9tait mince aussi bien que le sien; et, pendant environ deux ann\u00e9es,\nnous ne plant\u00e2mes gu\u00e8re que pour notre nourriture. Toutefois nous\ncommencions \u00e0 faire des progr\u00e8s, et notre terre commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se\nbonifier; si bien que la troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e nous sem\u00e2mes du tabac et\nappr\u00eat\u00e2mes l'un et l'autre une grande pi\u00e8ce de terre pour planter des\ncannes \u00e0 sucre l'ann\u00e9e suivante. Mais touts les deux nous avions besoin\nd'aide; alors je sentis plus que jamais combien j'avais eu tort de me\ns\u00e9parer de mon gar\u00e7on Xury.\nMais h\u00e9las! avoir fait mal, pour moi qui ne faisais jamais bien, ce\nn'\u00e9tait pas chose \u00e9tonnante; il n'y avait d'autre rem\u00e8de que de\npoursuivre. Je m'\u00e9tais impos\u00e9 une occupation tout-\u00e0-fait \u00e9loign\u00e9e de mon\nesprit naturel, et enti\u00e8rement contraire \u00e0 la vie que j'aimais et pour\nlaquelle j'avais abandonn\u00e9 la maison de mon p\u00e8re et m\u00e9pris\u00e9 tout ses\nbons avis; car j'entrais pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment dans la condition moyenne, ce\npremier rang de la vie inf\u00e9rieure qu'autrefois il m'avait recommand\u00e9, et\nque, r\u00e9solu \u00e0 suivre, j'eusse pu de m\u00eame trouver chez nous sans m'\u00eatre\nfatigu\u00e9 \u00e0 courir le monde. Souvent, je me disais:--\u00abCe que je fais ici,\nj'aurais pu le faire tout aussi bien en Angleterre, au milieu de mes\namis; il \u00e9tait inutile pour cela de parcourir deux mille lieues, et de\nvenir parmi des \u00e9trangers, des Sauvages, dans un d\u00e9sert, et \u00e0 une telle\ndistance que je ne puis recevoir de nouvelle d'aucun lieu du monde, o\u00f9\nl'on a la moindre connaissance de moi.\u00bb\nAinsi j'avais coutume de consid\u00e9rer ma position avec le plus grand\nregret. Je n'avais personne avec qui converser, que de temps en temps\nmon voisin: point d'autre ouvrage \u00e0 faire que par le travail, de mes\nmains, et je me disais souvent que je vivais tout-\u00e0-fait comme un\nnaufrag\u00e9 jet\u00e9 sur quelque \u00eele d\u00e9serte et enti\u00e8rement, livr\u00e9 \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame.\nCombien il a \u00e9t\u00e9 juste, et combien tout homme devrait r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir que\ntandis qu'il compare sa situation pr\u00e9sente \u00e0 d'autres qui sont pires, le\nCiel pourrait l'obliger \u00e0 en faire l'\u00e9change, et le convaincre, par sa\npropre exp\u00e9rience, de sa f\u00e9licit\u00e9 premi\u00e8re; combien il a \u00e9t\u00e9 juste,\ndis-je, que cette vie r\u00e9ellement solitaire, dans une \u00eele r\u00e9ellement\nd\u00e9serte, et dont je m'\u00e9tais plaint, devint mon lot; moi qui l'avais si\nsouvent injustement compar\u00e9e avec la vie que je menais alors, qui, si\nj'avais pers\u00e9v\u00e9r\u00e9, m'e\u00fbt en toute probabilit\u00e9 conduit \u00e0 une grande\nprosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 et \u00e0 une grande richesse.\nJ'\u00e9tais \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s bas\u00e9 sur les mesures relatives \u00e0 la conduite de ma\nplantation, avant que mon gracieux ami le capitaine du vaisseau, qui\nm'avait recueilli en mer, s'en retourn\u00e2t; car son navire demeura environ\ntrois mois \u00e0 faire son chargement et ses pr\u00e9paratifs de voyage. Lorsque\nje lui parlai du petit capital que j'avais laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re moi \u00e0\nLondres, il me donna cet amical et sinc\u00e8re conseil:--\u00abSenhor Inglez, me\ndit-il,--car il m'appelait toujours ainsi,--si vous voulez me donner,\npour moi, une procuration en forme, et pour la personne d\u00e9positaire de\nvotre argent, \u00e0 Londres, des lettres et des ordres d'envoyer vos fonds \u00e0\nLisbonne, \u00e0 telles personnes que je vous d\u00e9signerai, et en telles\nmarchandises qui sont convenables \u00e0 ce pays-ci, je vous les apporterai,\nsi Dieu veut, \u00e0 mon retour; mais comme les choses humaines sont toutes\nsujettes aux revers et aux d\u00e9sastres, veuillez ne me remettre des ordres\nque pour une centaine de livres sterling, que vous dites \u00eatre la moiti\u00e9\nde votre fonds, et que vous hasarderez premi\u00e8rement; si bien que si cela\narrive \u00e0 bon port, vous pourrez ordonner du reste pareillement; mais si\ncela \u00e9choue, vous pourrez, au besoin, avoir recours \u00e0 la seconde\nmoiti\u00e9.\u00bb\nCe conseil \u00e9tait salutaire et plein de consid\u00e9rations amicales; je fus\nconvaincu que c'\u00e9tait le meilleur parti \u00e0 prendre; et, en cons\u00e9quence,\nje pr\u00e9parai des lettres pour la dame \u00e0 qui j'avais confi\u00e9 mon argent, et\nune procuration pour le capitaine, ainsi qu'il le d\u00e9sirait.\nJ'\u00e9crivis \u00e0 la veuve du capitaine anglais une relation de toutes mes\naventures, mon esclavage, mon \u00e9vasion, ma rencontre en mer avec le\ncapitaine portugais, l'humanit\u00e9 de sa conduite, l'\u00e9tat dans lequel\nj'\u00e9tais alors, avec toutes les instructions n\u00e9cessaires pour la remise\nde mes fonds; et, lorsque cet honn\u00eate capitaine fut arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 Lisbonne,\nil trouva moyen, par l'entremise d'un des Anglais n\u00e9gociants en cette\nville, d'envoyer non-seulement l'ordre, mais un r\u00e9cit complet de mon\nhistoire, \u00e0 un marchand de Londres, qui le reporta si efficacement \u00e0 la\nveuve, que, non-seulement elle d\u00e9livra mon argent, mais, de sa propre\ncassette, elle envoya au capitaine portugais un tr\u00e8s-riche cadeau, pour\nson humanit\u00e9 et sa charit\u00e9 envers moi.\nLe marchand de Londres convertit les cent livres sterling en\nmarchandises anglaises, ainsi que le capitaine le lui avait \u00e9crit, et il\nles lui envoya en droiture \u00e0 Lisbonne, d'o\u00f9 il me les apporta toutes en\nbon \u00e9tat au Br\u00e9sil; parmi elles, sans ma recommandation,--car j'\u00e9tais\ntrop novice en mes affaires pour y avoir song\u00e9, il avait pris soin de\nmettre toutes sortes d'outils, d'instruments de fer et d'ustensiles\nn\u00e9cessaires pour ma plantation, qui me furent d'un grand usage.\nJe fus surpris agr\u00e9ablement quand cette cargaison arriva, et je crus ma\nfortune faite. Mon bon munitionnaire le capitaine avait d\u00e9pens\u00e9 les cinq\nlivres sterling que mon amie lui avait envoy\u00e9es en pr\u00e9sent, \u00e0 me louer,\npour le terme de six ann\u00e9es, un serviteur qu'il m'amena, et il ne voulut\nrien accepter sous aucune consid\u00e9ration, si ce n'est un peu de tabac,\nque je l'obligeai \u00e0 recevoir comme \u00e9tant de ma propre r\u00e9colte.\nCe ne fut pas tout; comme mes marchandises \u00e9taient toutes de\nmanufactures anglaises, tels que draps, \u00e9toffes, flanelle et autres\nchoses particuli\u00e8rement estim\u00e9es et recherch\u00e9es dans le pays je trouvai\nmoyen de les vendre tr\u00e8s-avantageusement, si bien que je puis dire que\nje quadruplai la valeur de ma cargaison, et que je fus alors infiniment\nau-dessus de mon pauvre voisin, quant \u00e0 la prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 de ma plantation,\ncar la premi\u00e8re chose que je fis ce fut d'acheter un esclave n\u00e8gre, et\nde louer un serviteur europ\u00e9en: un autre, veux-je dire, outre celui que\nle capitaine m'avait amen\u00e9 de Lisbonne.\nMais le mauvais usage de la prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 est souvent la vraie cause de nos\nplus grandes adversit\u00e9s; il en fut ainsi pour moi. J'eus, l'ann\u00e9e\nsuivante, beaucoup de succ\u00e8s dans ma plantation; je r\u00e9coltai sur mon\npropre terrain cinquante gros rouleaux de tabac, non compris ce que,\npour mon n\u00e9cessaire, j'en avais \u00e9chang\u00e9 avec mes voisins, et ces\ncinquante rouleaux pesant chacun environ cent livres, furent bien\nconfectionn\u00e9s et mis en r\u00e9serve pour le retour de la flotte de Lisbonne.\nAlors, mes affaires et mes richesses s'augmentant, ma t\u00eate commen\u00e7a \u00e0\n\u00eatre pleine d'entreprises au-del\u00e0 de ma port\u00e9e, semblables \u00e0 celles qui\nsouvent causent la ruine des plus habiles sp\u00e9culateurs.\nSi je m'\u00e9tais maintenu dans la position o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais alors, j'eusse pu\nm'attendre encore \u00e0 toutes les choses heureuses pour lesquelles mon p\u00e8re\nm'avait si express\u00e9ment recommand\u00e9 une vie tranquille et retir\u00e9e, et\ndesquelles il m'avait si justement dit que la condition moyenne \u00e9tait\nremplie. Mais ce n'\u00e9tait pas l\u00e0 mon sort; je devais \u00eatre derechef\nl'agent obstin\u00e9 de mes propres mis\u00e8res; je devais accro\u00eetre ma faute, et\ndoubler les reproches que dans mes afflictions futures j'aurais le\nloisir de me faire. Toutes ces infortunes prirent leur source dans mon\nattachement manifeste et opini\u00e2tre \u00e0 ma folle inclination de courir le\nmonde, et dans mon abandon \u00e0 cette passion, contrairement \u00e0 la plus\n\u00e9vidente perspective d'arriver \u00e0 bien par l'honn\u00eate et simple poursuite\nde ce but et de ce genre de vie, que la nature et la Providence\nconcouraient \u00e0 m'offrir pour l'accomplissement de mes devoirs.\nComme lors de ma rupture avec mes parents, de m\u00eame alors je ne pouvais\nplus \u00eatre satisfait, et il fallait que je m'en allasse et que\nj'abandonnasse l'heureuse esp\u00e9rance que j'avais de faire bien mes\naffaires et de devenir riche dans ma nouvelle plantation, seulement pour\nsuivre un d\u00e9sir t\u00e9m\u00e9raire et immod\u00e9r\u00e9 de m'\u00e9lever plus promptement que\nla nature des choses ne l'admettait. Ainsi je me replongeai dans le plus\nprofond gouffre de mis\u00e8re humaine o\u00f9 l'homme puisse jamais tomber, et le\nseul peut-\u00eatre qui lui laisse la vie et un \u00e9tat de sant\u00e9 dans le monde.\nPour arriver maintenant par degr\u00e9s aux particularit\u00e9s de cette partie de\nmon histoire, vous devez supposer qu'ayant alors v\u00e9cu \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s quatre\nann\u00e9es au Br\u00e9sil, et commen\u00e7ant \u00e0 prosp\u00e9rer et \u00e0 m'enrichir dans ma\nplantation, non-seulement j'avais appris le portugais, mais que j'avais\nli\u00e9 connaissance et amiti\u00e9 avec mes confr\u00e8res les planteurs, ainsi\nqu'avec les marchands de San-Salvador, qui \u00e9tait notre port. Dans mes\nconversations avec eux, j'avais fr\u00e9quemment fait le r\u00e9cit de mes deux\nvoyages sur la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e, de la mani\u00e8re d'y trafiquer avec les\nN\u00e8gres, et de la facilit\u00e9 d'y acheter pour des babioles, telles que des\ngrains de collier[11], des breloques, des couteaux, des ciseaux, des\nhaches, des morceaux de glace et autres choses semblables, non-seulement\nde la poudre d'or, des graines de Guin\u00e9e, des dents d'\u00e9l\u00e9phants, etc.;\nmais des N\u00e8gres pour le service du Br\u00e9sil, et en grand nombre.\nIls \u00e9coutaient toujours tr\u00e8s-attentivement mes discours sur ce chapitre,\nmais plus sp\u00e9cialement la partie o\u00f9 je parlais de la traite des N\u00e8gres,\ntrafic non-seulement peu avanc\u00e9 \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque, mais qui, tel qu'il\n\u00e9tait, n'avait jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 fait qu'avec les _Asientos,_ ou permission des\nrois d'Espagne et de Portugal, qui en avaient le monopole public, de\nsorte qu'on achetait peu de N\u00e8gres, et qu'ils \u00e9taient excessivement\nchers.\nIl advint qu'une fois, me trouvant en compagnie avec des marchands et\ndes planteurs de ma connaissance, je parlai de tout cela passionn\u00e9ment;\ntrois d'entre eux vinrent aupr\u00e8s de moi le lendemain au matin, et me\ndirent qu'ils avaient beaucoup song\u00e9 \u00e0 ce dont je m'\u00e9tais entretenu avec\neux la soir\u00e9e pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente, et qu'ils venaient me faire une secr\u00e8te\nproposition.\nNAUFRAGE\nIls me d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent, apr\u00e8s m'avoir recommand\u00e9 la discr\u00e9tion, qu'ils\navaient le dessein d'\u00e9quiper un vaisseau pour la c\u00f4te de Guin\u00e9e.--\u00abNous\navons touts, comme vous, des plantations, ajout\u00e8rent-ils, et nous\nn'avons rien tant besoin que d'esclaves; mais comme nous ne pouvons pas\nentreprendre ce commerce, puisqu'on ne peut vendre publiquement les\nN\u00e8gres lorsqu'ils sont d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s, nous ne d\u00e9sirons, faire qu'un seul\nvoyage, pour en ramener secr\u00e8tement et les r\u00e9partir sur nos\nplantations.\u00bb En un mot, la question \u00e9tait que si je voulais aller \u00e0\nbord comme leur subr\u00e9cargue[12], pour diriger la traite sur la c\u00f4te de\nGuin\u00e9e, j'aurais ma portion contingente de N\u00e8gres sans fournir ma\nquote-part d'argent.\nC'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 une belle proposition, il faut en convenir, si elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nfaite \u00e0 quelqu'un qui n'e\u00fbt pas eu \u00e0 gouverner un \u00e9tablissement et une\nplantation \u00e0 soi appartenant, en beau chemin de devenir consid\u00e9rables et\nd'un excellent rapport; mais pour moi, qui \u00e9tais ainsi engag\u00e9 et \u00e9tabli,\nqui n'avais qu'\u00e0 poursuivre, comme j'avais commenc\u00e9, pendant trois ou\nquatre ans encore, et qu'\u00e0 faire venir d'Angleterre mes autres cent\nlivres sterling restant, pour \u00eatre alors, avec cette petite addition, \u00e0\npeu pr\u00e8s possesseur de trois ou quatre mille livres, qui accro\u00eetraient\nencore chaque jour; mais pour moi, dis-je, penser \u00e0 un pareil voyage,\nc'\u00e9tait la plus absurde chose dont un homme plac\u00e9 en de semblables\ncirconstances pouvait se rendre coupable.\nMais comme j'\u00e9tais n\u00e9 pour \u00eatre mon propre destructeur, il me fut aussi\nimpossible de r\u00e9sister \u00e0 cette offre, qu'il me l'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de ma\u00eetriser\nmes premi\u00e8res id\u00e9es vagabondes lorsque les bons conseils de mon p\u00e8re\n\u00e9chou\u00e8rent contre moi. En un mot, je leur dis que j'irais de tout mon\nc\u0153ur s'ils voulaient se charger de conduire ma plantation durant mon\nabsence, et en disposer ainsi que je l'ordonnerais si je venais \u00e0 faire\nnaufrage. Ils me le promirent, et ils s'y engag\u00e8rent par \u00e9crit ou par\nconvention, et je fis un testament formel, disposant de ma plantation et\nde mes effets, en cas de mort, et instituant mon l\u00e9gataire universel, le\ncapitaine de vaisseau qui m'avait sauv\u00e9 la vie, comme je l'ai narr\u00e9 plus\nhaut, mais l'obligeant \u00e0 disposer de mes biens suivant que je l'avais\nprescrit dans mon testament, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'il se r\u00e9serverait pour\nlui-m\u00eame une moiti\u00e9 de leur produit, et que l'autre moiti\u00e9 serait\nembarqu\u00e9e pour l'Angleterre.\nBref, je pris toutes pr\u00e9cautions possibles pour garantir mes biens et\nentretenir ma plantation. Si j'avais us\u00e9 de moiti\u00e9 autant de prudence \u00e0\nconsid\u00e9rer mon propre int\u00e9r\u00eat, et \u00e0 me former un jugement de ce que je\ndevais faire ou ne pas faire, je ne me serais certainement jamais\n\u00e9loign\u00e9 d'une entreprise aussi florissante; je n'aurais point abandonn\u00e9\ntoutes les chances probables de m'enrichir, pour un voyage sur mer o\u00f9 je\nserais expos\u00e9 \u00e0 touts les hasards communs; pour ne rien dire des raisons\nque j'avais de m'attendre \u00e0 des infortunes personnelles.\nMais j'\u00e9tais entra\u00een\u00e9, et j'ob\u00e9is aveugl\u00e9ment \u00e0 ce que me dictait mon\ngo\u00fbt plut\u00f4t que ma raison. Le b\u00e2timent \u00e9tant \u00e9quip\u00e9 convenablement, la\ncargaison fournie et toutes choses faites suivant l'accord, par mes\npartenaires dans ce voyage, je m'embarquai \u00e0 la maleheure[13], le 1er\nseptembre, huit ans apr\u00e8s, jour pour jour, qu'\u00e0 Hull, je m'\u00e9tais \u00e9loign\u00e9\nde mon p\u00e8re et de ma m\u00e8re pour faire le rebelle \u00e0 leur autorit\u00e9, et le\nfou quant \u00e0 mes propres int\u00e9r\u00eats.\nNotre vaisseau, d'environ cent vingt tonneaux, portait six canons et\nquatorze hommes, non compris le capitaine, son valet et moi. Nous\nn'avions gu\u00e8re \u00e0 bord d'autre cargaison de marchandises, que des\nclincailleries[14] convenables pour notre commerce avec les N\u00e8gres, tels\nque des grains de collier[15], des morceaux de verre, des coquilles, de\nm\u00e9chantes babioles, surtout de petits miroirs, des couteaux, des\nciseaux, des cogn\u00e9es et autres choses semblables.\nLe jour m\u00eame o\u00f9 j'allai \u00e0 bord, nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 la voile, faisant route au\nNord le long de notre c\u00f4te, dans le dessein de cingler vers celle\nd'Afrique, quand nous serions par les dix ou onze degr\u00e9s de latitude\nseptentrionale; c'\u00e9tait, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, la mani\u00e8re de faire ce\ntrajet \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque. Nous e\u00fbmes un fort bon temps, mais excessivement\nchaud, tout le long de notre c\u00f4te jusqu'\u00e0 la hauteur du cap\nSaint-Augustin, o\u00f9, gagnant le large, nous noy\u00e2mes la terre et port\u00e2mes\nle cap, comme si nous \u00e9tions charg\u00e9s pour l'\u00eele Fernando-Noronha; mais,\ntenant notre course au Nord-Est quart Nord, nous laiss\u00e2mes \u00e0 l'Est cette\n\u00eele et ses adjacentes. Apr\u00e8s une navigation d'environ douze jours, nous\navions doubl\u00e9 la ligne et nous \u00e9tions, suivant notre derni\u00e8re estime,\npar les sept degr\u00e9s vingt-deux minutes de latitude Nord, quand un\nviolent tourbillon ou un ouragan nous d\u00e9sorienta enti\u00e8rement. Il\ncommen\u00e7a du Sud-Est, tourna \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s au Nord-Ouest, et enfin se fixa\nau Nord-Est, d'o\u00f9 il se d\u00e9cha\u00eena d'une mani\u00e8re si terrible, que pendant\ndouze jours de suite nous ne f\u00eemes que d\u00e9river, courant devant lui et\nnous laissant emporter partout o\u00f9 la fatalit\u00e9 et la furie des vents nous\npoussaient. Durant ces douze jours, je n'ai pas besoin de dire que je\nm'attendais \u00e0 chaque instant \u00e0 \u00eatre englouti; au fait, personne sur le\nvaisseau n'esp\u00e9rait sauver sa vie.\nDans cette d\u00e9tresse, nous e\u00fbmes, outre la terreur de la temp\u00eate, un de\nnos hommes mort de la calenture, et un matelot et le domestique emport\u00e9s\npar une lame. Vers le douzi\u00e8me jour, le vent mollissant un peu, le\ncapitaine prit hauteur, le mieux qu'il put, et estima qu'il \u00e9tait\nenviron par les onze degr\u00e9s de latitude Nord, mais qu'avec le cap\nSaint-Augustin il avait vingt-deux degr\u00e9s de diff\u00e9rence en longitude\nOuest; de sorte qu'il se trouva avoir gagn\u00e9 la c\u00f4te de la Guyane, ou\npartie septentrionale du Br\u00e9sil, au-del\u00e0 du fleuve des Amazones, vers\nl'Or\u00e9noque, commun\u00e9ment appel\u00e9 la Grande Rivi\u00e8re. Alors il commen\u00e7a \u00e0\nconsulter avec moi sur la route qu'il devait prendre, car le navire\nfaisait plusieurs voies d'eau et \u00e9tait tout-\u00e0-fait d\u00e9sempar\u00e9. Il opinait\npour rebrousser directement vers les c\u00f4tes du Br\u00e9sil.\nJ'\u00e9tais d'un avis positivement contraire. Apr\u00e8s avoir examin\u00e9 avec lui\nles cartes des c\u00f4tes maritimes de l'Am\u00e9rique, nous concl\u00fbmes qu'il n'y\navait point de pays habit\u00e9 o\u00f9 nous pourrions rel\u00e2cher avant que nous\neussions atteint l'archipel des Cara\u00efbes. Nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes donc de faire\nvoile vers la Barbade, o\u00f9 nous esp\u00e9rions, en gardant la haute mer pour\n\u00e9viter l'entr\u00e9e du golfe du Mexique, pouvoir ais\u00e9ment parvenir en quinze\njours de navigation, d'autant qu'il nous \u00e9tait impossible de faire notre\nvoyage \u00e0 la c\u00f4te d'Afrique sans des secours, et pour notre vaisseau et\npour nous-m\u00eames.\nDans ce dessein, nous change\u00e2mes de route, et nous gouvern\u00e2mes\nNord-Ouest quart Ouest, afin d'atteindre une de nos \u00eeles anglaises, o\u00f9\nje comptais recevoir quelque assistance. Mais il en devait \u00eatre\nautrement; car, par les douze degr\u00e9s dix-huit minutes de latitude, nous\nf\u00fbmes assaillis par une seconde temp\u00eate qui nous emporta avec la m\u00eame\nimp\u00e9tuosit\u00e9 vers l'Ouest, et nous poussa si loin hors de toute route\nfr\u00e9quent\u00e9e, que si nos existences avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9es quant \u00e0 la mer,\nnous aurions eu plut\u00f4t la chance d'\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les Sauvages que\ncelle de retourner en notre pays.\nEn ces extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s, le vent soufflait toujours avec violence, et \u00e0 la\npointe du jour un de nos hommes s'\u00e9cria: Terre! \u00c0 peine nous \u00e9tions-nous\npr\u00e9cipit\u00e9s hors de la cabine, pour regarder dans l'espoir de reconna\u00eetre\nen quel endroit du monde nous \u00e9tions, que notre navire donna contre un\nbanc de sable: son mouvement \u00e9tant ainsi subitement arr\u00eat\u00e9, la mer\nd\u00e9ferla sur lui d'une telle mani\u00e8re, que nous nous attend\u00eemes touts \u00e0\np\u00e9rir sur l'heure, et que nous nous r\u00e9fugi\u00e2mes vers le gaillard\nd'arri\u00e8re, pour nous mettre \u00e0 l'abri de l'\u00e9cume et des \u00e9claboussures des\nvagues.\nIl serait difficile \u00e0 quelqu'un qui ne se serait pas trouv\u00e9 en une\npareille situation, de d\u00e9crire ou de concevoir la consternation d'un\n\u00e9quipage dans de telles circonstances. Nous ne savions, ni o\u00f9 nous\n\u00e9tions, ni vers quelle terre nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 pouss\u00e9s, ni si c'\u00e9tait une\n\u00eele ou un continent, ni si elle \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e ou inhabit\u00e9e. Et comme la\nfureur du vent \u00e9tait toujours grande, quoique moindre, nous ne pouvions\npas m\u00eame esp\u00e9rer que le navire demeurerait quelques minutes sans se\nbriser en morceaux, \u00e0 moins que les vents, par une sorte de miracle, ne\nchangeassent subitement. En un mot, nous nous regardions les uns les\nautres, attendant la mort \u00e0 chaque instant, et nous pr\u00e9parant touts pour\nun autre monde, car il ne nous restait, rien ou que peu de chose \u00e0 faire\nen celui-ci. Toute notre consolation pr\u00e9sente, tout notre r\u00e9confort,\nc'\u00e9tait que le vaisseau, contrairement \u00e0 notre attente, ne se brisait\npas encore, et que le capitaine disait que le vent commen\u00e7ait \u00e0\ns'abattre. Bien que nous nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes en effet que le vent s'\u00e9tait un\npeu appais\u00e9, n\u00e9anmoins notre vaisseau ainsi \u00e9chou\u00e9 sur le sable, \u00e9tant\ntrop engrav\u00e9 pour esp\u00e9rer de le remettre \u00e0 flot, nous \u00e9tions vraiment\ndans une situation horrible, et il ne nous restait plus qu'\u00e0 songer \u00e0\nsauver notre vie du mieux que nous pourrions. Nous avions un canot \u00e0\nnotre poupe avant la tourmente, mais d'abord il s'\u00e9tait d\u00e9fonc\u00e9 \u00e0 force\nde heurter contre le gouvernail du navire, et, ensuite, ayant rompu ses\namarres, il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 englouti ou emport\u00e9 au loin \u00e0 la d\u00e9rive; nous ne\npouvions donc pas compter sur lui. Nous avions bien encore une chaloupe\n\u00e0 bord, mais la mettre \u00e0 la mer \u00e9tait chose difficile; cependant il n'y\navait pas \u00e0 tergiverser, car nous nous imaginions \u00e0 chaque minute que le\nvaisseau se brisait, et m\u00eame quelques-uns de nous affirmaient que d\u00e9j\u00e0\nil \u00e9tait entr'ouvert.\nAlors notre second se saisit de la chaloupe, et, avec l'aide des\nmatelots, elle fut lanc\u00e9e par-dessus le flanc du navire. Nous y\ndescend\u00eemes touts, nous abandonnant, onze que nous \u00e9tions, \u00e0 la merci de\nDieu et de la temp\u00eate; car, bien que la tourmente f\u00fbt consid\u00e9rablement\nappais\u00e9e, la mer, n\u00e9anmoins, s'\u00e9levait \u00e0 une hauteur effroyable contre\nle rivage, et pouvait bien \u00eatre appel\u00e9e Den Wild Zee,--la mer\nsauvage,--comme les Hollandais l'appellent lorsqu'elle est orageuse.\nNotre situation \u00e9tait alors vraiment d\u00e9plorable, nous voyions touts\npleinement que la mer \u00e9tait trop grosse pour que notre embarcation p\u00fbt\nr\u00e9sister, et qu'in\u00e9vitablement nous serions engloutis. Comment cingler,\nnous n'avions pas de voiles, et nous en aurions eu que nous n'en aurions\nrien pu faire. Nous nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 ramer vers la terre, mais avec le c\u0153ur\ngros et comme des hommes marchant au supplice. Aucun de nous n'ignorait\nque la chaloupe, en abordant, serait bris\u00e9e en mille pi\u00e8ces par le choc\nde la mer. N\u00e9anmoins apr\u00e8s avoir recommand\u00e9 nos \u00e2mes \u00e0 Dieu de la\nmani\u00e8re la plus fervente nous h\u00e2t\u00e2mes de nos propres mains notre\ndestruction en ramant de toutes nos forces vers la terre o\u00f9 d\u00e9j\u00e0 le vent\nnous poussait. Le rivage \u00e9tait-il du roc ou du sable, \u00e9tait-il plat ou\nescarp\u00e9, nous l'ignorions. Il ne nous restait qu'une faible lueur\nd'espoir, c'\u00e9tait d'atteindre une baie, une embouchure de fleuve, o\u00f9 par\nun grand bonheur nous pourrions faire entrer notre barque, l'abriter du\nvent, et peut-\u00eatre m\u00eame trouver le calme. Mais rien de tout cela\nn'apparaissait; mais \u00e0 mesure que nous approchions de la rive, la terre\nnous semblait plus redoutable que la mer.\nApr\u00e8s avoir ram\u00e9, ou plut\u00f4t d\u00e9riv\u00e9 pendant une lieue et demie, \u00e0 ce que\nnous jugions, une vague furieuse, s'\u00e9levant comme une montagne, vint, en\nroulant \u00e0 notre arri\u00e8re, nous annoncer notre coup de gr\u00e2ce. Bref, elle\nnous saisit avec tant de furie que d'un seul coup elle fit chavirer la\nchaloupe et nous en jeta loin, s\u00e9par\u00e9s les uns des autres, en nous\nlaissant \u00e0 peine le temps de dire \u00f4 mon Dieu! car nous f\u00fbmes touts\nengloutis en un moment.\nSEULS RESTES DE L'\u00c9QUIPAGE\nRien ne saurait retracer quelle \u00e9tait la confusion de mes pens\u00e9es\nlorsque j'allai au fond de l'eau. Quoique je nageasse tr\u00e8s-bien, il me\nfut impossible de me d\u00e9livrer des flots pour prendre respiration. La\nvague, m'ayant port\u00e9 ou plut\u00f4t emport\u00e9 \u00e0 distance vers le rivage, et\ns'\u00e9tant \u00e9tal\u00e9e et retir\u00e9e me laissa presque \u00e0 sec, mais \u00e0 demi \u00e9touff\u00e9\npar l'eau que j'avais aval\u00e9e. Me voyant plus pr\u00e8s de la terre ferme que\nje ne m'y \u00e9tais attendu, j'eus assez de pr\u00e9sence d'esprit et de force\npour me dresser sur mes pieds, et m'efforcer de gagner le rivage, avant\nqu'une autre vague rev\u00eent et m'enlev\u00e2t. Mais je sentis bient\u00f4t que\nc'\u00e9tait impossible, car je vis la mer s'avancer derri\u00e8re moi furieuse et\naussi haute qu'une grande montagne. Je n'avais ni le moyen ni la force\nde combattre cet ennemi; ma seule ressource \u00e9tait de retenir mon\nhaleine, et de m'\u00e9lever au-dessus de l'eau, et en surnageant ainsi de\npr\u00e9server ma respiration, et de voguer vers la c\u00f4te, s'il m'\u00e9tait\npossible. J'appr\u00e9hendais par-dessus tout que le flot, apr\u00e8s m'avoir\ntransport\u00e9, en venant, vers le rivage, ne me rejet\u00e2t dans la mer en s'en\nretournant.\nLa vague qui revint sur moi m'ensevelit tout d'un coup, dans sa propre\nmasse, \u00e0 la profondeur de vingt ou trente pieds; je me sentais emport\u00e9\navec une violence et une rapidit\u00e9 extr\u00eames \u00e0 une grande distance du c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde la terre. Je retenais mon souffle, et je nageais de toutes mes\nforces. Mais j'\u00e9tais pr\u00e8s d'\u00e9touffer, faute de respiration, quand je me\nsentis remonter, et quand, \u00e0 mon grand soulagement, ma t\u00eate et mes mains\nperc\u00e8rent au-dessus de l'eau. Il me fut impossible de me maintenir ainsi\nplus de deux secondes, cependant cela me fit un bien extr\u00eame, en me\nredonnant de l'air et du courage. Je fus derechef couvert d'eau assez\nlong-temps, mais je tins bon; et, sentant que la lame \u00e9talait et qu'elle\ncommen\u00e7ait \u00e0 refluer, je coupai \u00e0 travers les vagues et je repris pied.\nPendant quelques instants je demeurai tranquille pour prendre haleine,\net pour attendre que les eaux se fussent \u00e9loign\u00e9es. Puis, alors, prenant\nmon \u00e9lan, je courus \u00e0 toutes jambes vers le rivage. Mais cet effort ne\nput me d\u00e9livrer de la furie de la mer, qui revenait fondre sur moi; et,\npar deux fois, les vagues m'enlev\u00e8rent, et, comme pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment,\nm'entra\u00een\u00e8rent au loin, le rivage \u00e9tant tout-\u00e0-fait plat.\nLa derni\u00e8re de ces deux fois avait \u00e9t\u00e9 bien pr\u00e8s de m'\u00eatre fatale; car\nla mer m'ayant emport\u00e9 ainsi qu'auparavant, elle me mit \u00e0 terre ou\nplut\u00f4t elle me jeta contre un quartier de roc, et avec une telle force,\nqu'elle me laissa \u00e9vanoui, dans l'impossibilit\u00e9 de travailler \u00e0 ma\nd\u00e9livrance. Le coup, ayant port\u00e9 sur mon flanc et sur ma poitrine, avait\npour ainsi dire chass\u00e9 enti\u00e8rement le souffle de mon corps; et, si je ne\nl'avais recouvr\u00e9 imm\u00e9diatement, j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9touff\u00e9 dans l'eau; mais il\nme revint un peu avant le retour des vagues, et voyant qu'elles allaient\nencore m'envelopper, je r\u00e9solus de me cramponner au rocher et de retenir\nmon haleine, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'elles fussent retir\u00e9es. Comme la terre \u00e9tait\nproche, les lames ne s'\u00e9levaient plus aussi haut, et je ne quittai point\nprise qu'elles ne se fussent abattues. Alors je repris ma course, et je\nm'approchai tellement de la terre, que la nouvelle vague, quoiqu'elle me\ntravers\u00e2t, ne m'engloutit point assez pour m'entra\u00eener. Enfin, apr\u00e8s un\ndernier effort, je parvins \u00e0 la terre ferme, o\u00f9, \u00e0 ma grande\nsatisfaction, je gravis sur les rochers escarp\u00e9s du rivage, et m'assis\nsur l'herbe, d\u00e9livr\u00e9 de tout p\u00e9rils et \u00e0 l'abri de toute atteinte de\nl'Oc\u00e9an.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors \u00e0 terre et en s\u00fbret\u00e9 sur la rive; je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 regarder\nle ciel et \u00e0 remercier Dieu de ce que ma vie \u00e9tait sauv\u00e9e, dans un cas\no\u00f9, quelques minutes auparavant, il y avait \u00e0 peine lieu d'esp\u00e9rer. Je\ncro\u00ees qu'il serait impossible d'exprimer au vif ce que sont les extases\net les transports d'une \u00e2me arrach\u00e9e, pour ainsi dire, du plus profond\nde la tombe. Aussi ne suis-je pas \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de la coutume d'amener un\nchirurgien pour tirer du sang au criminel \u00e0 qui on apporte des lettres\nde surs\u00e9ance juste au moment o\u00f9, la corde serr\u00e9e au cou, il est pr\u00e8s de\nrecevoir la mort, afin que la surprise ne chasse point les esprits\nvitaux de son c\u0153ur, et ne le tue point.\n_Car le premier effet des joies et des afflictions soudaines est\nd'an\u00e9antir._[16]\nAbsorb\u00e9 dans la contemplation de ma d\u00e9livrance, je me promenais \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0\nsur le rivage, levant les mains vers le ciel, faisant mille gestes et\nmille mouvements que je ne saurais d\u00e9crire; songeant \u00e0 tout mes\ncompagnons qui \u00e9taient noy\u00e9s, et que l\u00e0 pas une \u00e2me n'avait d\u00fb \u00eatre\nsauv\u00e9e except\u00e9 moi; car je ne les revis jamais, ni eux, ni aucun vestige\nd'eux, si ce n'est trois chapeaux, un bonnet et deux souliers\nd\u00e9pareill\u00e9s.\nAlors je jetai les yeux sur le navire \u00e9chou\u00e9; mais il \u00e9tait si \u00e9loign\u00e9,\net les brisants et l'\u00e9cume de la lame \u00e9taient si forts, qu'\u00e0 peine\npouvais-je le distinguer; et je consid\u00e9rai, \u00f4 mon Dieu! comment il avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 possible que j'eusse atteint le rivage.\nApr\u00e8s avoir soulag\u00e9 mon esprit par tout ce qu'il y avait de consolant\ndans ma situation, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 regarder \u00e0 l'entour de moi, pour voir\nen quelle sorte de lieu j'\u00e9tais, et ce que j'avais \u00e0 faire. Je sentis\nbient\u00f4t mon contentement diminuer, et qu'en un mot ma d\u00e9livrance \u00e9tait\naffreuse, car j'\u00e9tais tremp\u00e9 et n'avais pas de v\u00eatements pour me\nchanger, ni rien \u00e0 manger ou \u00e0 boire pour me r\u00e9conforter. Je n'avais non\nplus d'autre perspective que celle de mourir de faim ou d'\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9\npar les b\u00eates f\u00e9roces. Ce qui m'affligeait particuli\u00e8rement, c'\u00e9tait de\nne point avoir d'arme pour chasser et tuer quelques animaux pour ma\nsubsistance, ou pour me d\u00e9fendre contre n'importe quelles cr\u00e9atures qui\nvoudraient me tuer pour la leur. Bref, je n'avais rien sur moi, qu'un\ncouteau, une pipe \u00e0 tabac, et un peu de tabac dans une bo\u00eete. C'\u00e9tait l\u00e0\ntoute ma provision; aussi tombai-je dans une si terrible d\u00e9solation\nd'esprit, que pendant quelque temps je courus \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 comme un insens\u00e9.\n\u00c0 la tomb\u00e9e du jour, le c\u0153ur plein de tristesse, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nconsid\u00e9rer quel serait mon sort s'il y avait en cette contr\u00e9e des b\u00eates\nd\u00e9vorantes, car je n'ignorais pas qu'elles sortent \u00e0 la nuit pour r\u00f4der\net chercher leur proie.\nLa seule ressource qui s'offrit alors \u00e0 ma pens\u00e9e fut de monter \u00e0 un\narbre \u00e9pais et touffu, semblable \u00e0 un sapin, mais \u00e9pineux, qui croissait\npr\u00e8s de l\u00e0, et o\u00f9 je r\u00e9solus de m'\u00e9tablir pour toute la nuit, laissant\nau lendemain \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer de quelle mort il me faudrait mourir; car je\nn'entrevoyais encore nul moyen d'existence. Je m'\u00e9loignai d'environ un\ndemi-quart de mille du rivage, afin de voir si je ne trouverais point\nd'eau douce pour \u00e9tancher ma soif: \u00e0 ma grande joie, j'en rencontrai.\nApr\u00e8s avoir bu, ayant mis un peu de tabac dans ma bouche pour pr\u00e9venir\nla faim, j'allai \u00e0 l'arbre, je montai dedans, et je t\u00e2chai de m'y placer\nde mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ne pas tomber si je venais \u00e0 m'endormir; et, pour ma\nd\u00e9fense, ayant coup\u00e9 un b\u00e2ton court, semblable \u00e0 un gourdin, je pris\npossession de mon logement. Comme j'\u00e9tais extr\u00eamement fatigu\u00e9, je tombai\ndans un profond sommeil, et je dormis confortablement comme peu de\npersonnes, je pense, l'eussent pu faire en ma situation, et je m'en\ntrouvai plus soulag\u00e9 que je crois l'avoir jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans une occasion\nopportune.\nLorsque je m'\u00e9veillai il faisait grand jour; le temps \u00e9tait clair,\nl'orage \u00e9tait abattu, la mer n'\u00e9tait plus ni furieuse ni houleuse comme\nla veille. Mais quelle fut ma surprise en voyant que le vaisseau avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9, par l'\u00e9l\u00e9vation de la mar\u00e9e, enlev\u00e9, pendant la nuit, du banc de\nsable o\u00f9 il s'\u00e9tait engrav\u00e9, et qu'il avait d\u00e9riv\u00e9 presque jusqu'au\nr\u00e9cif dont j'ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, et contre lequel j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9cipit\u00e9\net meurtri. Il \u00e9tait environ \u00e0 un mille du rivage, et comme il\nparaissait poser encore sur sa quille, je souhaitai d'aller \u00e0 bord, afin\nde sauver au moins quelques choses n\u00e9cessaires pour mon usage.\nQuand je fus descendu de mon appartement, c'est-\u00e0-dire de l'arbre, je\nregardai encore \u00e0 l'entour de moi, et la premi\u00e8re chose que je d\u00e9couvris\nfut la chaloupe, gisant sur la terre, o\u00f9 le vent et la mer l'avaient\nlanc\u00e9e, \u00e0 environ deux milles \u00e0 ma droite. Je marchai le long du rivage\naussi loin que je pus pour y arriver; mais ayant trouv\u00e9 entre cette\nembarcation et moi un bras de mer qui avait environ un demi-mille de\nlargeur, je rebroussai chemin; car j'\u00e9tais alors bien plus d\u00e9sireux de\nparvenir au b\u00e2timent, o\u00f9 j'esp\u00e9rais trouver quelque chose pour ma\nsubsistance.\nUn peu apr\u00e8s midi, la mer \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s-calme et la mar\u00e9e si basse, que je\npouvais avancer jusqu'\u00e0 un quart de mille du vaisseau. L\u00e0, j'\u00e9prouvai un\nrenouvellement de douleur; car je vis clairement que si nous fussions\ndemeur\u00e9s \u00e0 bord, nous eussions touts \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9s, c'est-\u00e0-dire que nous\nserions touts venus \u00e0 terre sains et saufs, et que je n'aurais pas \u00e9t\u00e9\nsi malheureux que d'\u00eatre, comme je l'\u00e9tais alors, enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9nu\u00e9 de\ntoute soci\u00e9t\u00e9 et de toute consolation. Ceci m'arracha de nouvelles\nlarmes des yeux; mais ce n'\u00e9tait qu'un faible soulagement, et je r\u00e9solus\nd'atteindre le navire, s'il \u00e9tait possible. Je me d\u00e9shabillai, car la\nchaleur \u00e9tait extr\u00eame, et me mis \u00e0 l'eau. Parvenu au b\u00e2timent, la grande\ndifficult\u00e9 \u00e9tait de savoir comment monter \u00e0 bord. Comme il posait sur\nterre et s'\u00e9levait \u00e0 une grande hauteur hors de l'eau, il n'y avait rien\n\u00e0 ma port\u00e9e que je pusse saisir. J'en fis deux fois le tour \u00e0 la nage,\net, la seconde fois, j'apper\u00e7us un petit bout de cordage, que je fus\n\u00e9tonn\u00e9 de n'avoir point vu d'abord, et qui pendait au porte-haubans de\nmisaine, assez bas pour que je pusse l'atteindre, mais non sans grande\ndifficult\u00e9. \u00c0 l'aide de cette corde je me hissai sur le gaillard\nd'avant. L\u00e0, je vis que le vaisseau \u00e9tait bris\u00e9, et qu'il y avait une\ngrande quantit\u00e9 d'eau dans la cale, mais qu'\u00e9tant pos\u00e9 sur les accores\nd'un banc de sable ferme, ou plut\u00f4t de terre, il portait la poupe\nextr\u00eamement haut et la proue si bas, qu'elle \u00e9tait presque \u00e0 fleur\nd'eau; de sorte que l'arri\u00e8re \u00e9tait libre, et que tout ce qu'il y avait\ndans cette partie \u00e9tait sec. On peut bien \u00eatre assur\u00e9 que ma premi\u00e8re\nbesogne fut de chercher \u00e0 voir ce qui \u00e9tait avari\u00e9 et ce qui \u00e9tait\nintact. Je trouvai d'abord que toutes les provisions du vaisseau \u00e9taient\nen bon \u00e9tat et n'avaient point souffert de l'eau; et me sentant fort\ndispos\u00e9 \u00e0 manger, j'allai \u00e0 la soute au pain o\u00f9 je remplis mes goussets\nde biscuits, que je mangeai en m'occupant \u00e0 autre chose; car je n'avais\npas de temps \u00e0 perdre. Je trouvai aussi du _rum_ dans la grande chambre;\nj'en bus un long trait, ce qui, au fait, n'\u00e9tait pas trop pour me donner\ndu c\u0153ur \u00e0 l'ouvrage. Alors il ne me manquait plus rien, qu'une barque\npour me munir de bien des choses que je pr\u00e9voyais devoir m'\u00eatre fort\nessentielles.\nIl \u00e9tait superflu de demeurer oisif \u00e0 souhaiter ce que je ne pouvais\navoir; la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 \u00e9veilla mon industrie. Nous avions \u00e0 bord plusieurs\nvergues, plusieurs m\u00e2ts de hune de rechange, et deux ou trois\nespares[17] doubles; je r\u00e9solus de commencer par cela \u00e0 me mettre \u00e0\nl'\u0153uvre, et j'\u00e9linguai hors du bord tout ce qui n'\u00e9tait point trop\npesant, attachant chaque pi\u00e8ce avec une corde pour qu'elle ne p\u00fbt pas\nd\u00e9river. Quand ceci fut fait, je descendis \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 du b\u00e2timent, et, les\ntirant \u00e0 moi, je liai fortement ensemble quatre de ces pi\u00e8ces par les\ndeux bouts, le mieux qu'il me fut possible, pour en former un radeau.\nAyant pos\u00e9 en travers trois ou quatre bouts de bordage, je sentis que je\npouvais tr\u00e8s-bien marcher dessus, mais qu'il ne pourrait pas porter une\nforte charge, \u00e0 cause de sa trop grande l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9. Je me remis donc \u00e0\nl'ouvrage et, avec la scie du charpentier, je coupai en trois, sur la\nlongueur, un m\u00e2t de hune, et l'ajoutai \u00e0 mon radeau avec beaucoup de\ntravail et de peine. Mais l'esp\u00e9rance de me procurer le n\u00e9cessaire me\npoussait \u00e0 faire bien au-del\u00e0 de ce que j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 capable d'ex\u00e9cuter\nen toute autre occasion.\nLE RADEAU\nMon radeau \u00e9tait alors assez fort pour porter un poids raisonnable; il\nne s'agissait plus que de voir de quoi je le chargerais, et comment je\npr\u00e9serverais ce chargement du ressac de la mer; j'eus bient\u00f4t pris ma\nd\u00e9termination. D'abord, je mis touts les bordages et toutes les planches\nque je pus atteindre; puis, ayant bien song\u00e9 \u00e0 ce dont j'avais le plus\nbesoin, je pris premi\u00e8rement trois coffres de matelots, que j'avais\nforc\u00e9s et vid\u00e9s, et je les descendis sur mon radeau. Le premier je le\nremplis de provisions, savoir: du pain, du riz, trois fromages de\nHollande, cinq pi\u00e8ces de viande de ch\u00e8vre s\u00e9ch\u00e9e, dont l'\u00e9quipage\nfaisait sa principale nourriture, et un petit reste de bl\u00e9 d'Europe mis\n\u00e0 part pour quelques poules que nous avions embarqu\u00e9es et qui avaient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9es. Il y avait aussi \u00e0 bord un peu d'orge et de froment m\u00eal\u00e9\nensemble; mais je m'apper\u00e7us, \u00e0 mon grand d\u00e9sappointement, que ces\ngrains avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 mang\u00e9s ou g\u00e2t\u00e9s par les rats. Quant aux liqueurs, je\ntrouvai plusieurs caisses de bouteilles appartenant \u00e0 notre patron, dans\nlesquelles \u00e9taient quelques eaux cordiales; et enfin environ cinq ou six\ngallons d'arack; mais je les arrimai s\u00e9par\u00e9ment parce qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas\nn\u00e9cessaire de les mettre dans le coffre, et que, d'ailleurs, il n'y\navait plus de place pour elles. Tandis que j'\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 \u00e0 ceci, je\nremarquai que la mar\u00e9e, quoique tr\u00e8s-calme, commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 monter, et\nj'eus la mortification de voir flotter au large mon justaucorps, ma\nchemise et ma veste, que j'avais laiss\u00e9s sur le sable du rivage. Quant \u00e0\nmon haut-de-chausses, qui \u00e9tait seulement de toile et ouvert aux genoux,\nje l'avais gard\u00e9 sur moi ainsi que mes bas pour nager jusqu'\u00e0 bord. Quoi\nqu'il en soit, cela m'obligea d'aller \u00e0 la recherche des hardes. J'en\ntrouvai suffisamment, mais je ne pris que ce dont j'avais besoin pour le\npr\u00e9sent; car il y avait d'autres choses que je convoitais bien\ndavantage, telles que des outils pour travailler \u00e0 terre. Ce ne fut\nqu'apr\u00e8s une longue qu\u00eate que je d\u00e9couvris le coffre du charpentier, qui\nfut alors, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, une capture plus profitable et d'une bien plus\ngrande valeur, pour moi, que ne l'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 un plein vaisseau d'or. Je le\ndescendis sur mon radeau tel qu'il \u00e9tait, sans perdre mon temps \u00e0\nregarder dedans, car je savais, en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral, ce qu'il contenait.\nJe pensai ensuite aux munitions et aux armes; il y avait dans la grande\nchambre deux tr\u00e8s-bons fusils de chasse et deux pistolets; je les mis\nd'abord en r\u00e9serve avec quelques poires \u00e0 poudre, un petit sac de menu\nplomb et deux vieilles \u00e9p\u00e9es rouill\u00e9es. Je savais qu'il existait \u00e0 bord\ntrois barils de poudre mais j'ignorais o\u00f9 notre canonnier les avait\nrang\u00e9s; enfin je les trouvai apr\u00e8s une longue perquisition. Il y en\navait un qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mouill\u00e9; les deux autres \u00e9taient secs et en bon\n\u00e9tat, et je les mis avec les armes sur mon radeau. Me croyant alors\nassez bien charg\u00e9, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 songer comment je devais conduire tout\ncela au rivage; car je n'avais ni voile, ni aviron, ni gouvernail, et la\nmoindre bouff\u00e9e de vent pouvait submerger mon embarcation.\nTrois choses relevaient mon courage: 1\u00ba une mer calme et unie; 2\u00ba la\nmar\u00e9e montante et portant \u00e0 la terre; 3\u00ba le vent, qui tout faible qu'il\n\u00e9tait, soufflait vers le rivage. Enfin, ayant trouv\u00e9 deux ou trois rames\nrompues appartenant \u00e0 la chaloupe, et deux scies, une hache et un\nmarteau, en outre des outils qui \u00e9taient dans le coffre, je me mis en\nmer avec ma cargaison. Jusqu'\u00e0 un mille, ou environ, mon radeau alla\ntr\u00e8s-bien; seulement je m'apper\u00e7us qu'il d\u00e9rivait un peu au-del\u00e0 de\nl'endroit o\u00f9 d'abord j'avais pris terre. Cela me fit juger qu'il y avait\nl\u00e0 un courant d'eau, et me fit esp\u00e9rer, par cons\u00e9quent, de trouver une\ncrique ou une rivi\u00e8re dont je pourrais faire usage comme d'un port, pour\nd\u00e9barquer mon chargement.\nLa chose \u00e9tait ainsi que je l'avais pr\u00e9sum\u00e9. Je d\u00e9couvris devant moi une\npetite ouverture de terre, et je vis la mar\u00e9e qui s'y pr\u00e9cipitait. Je\ngouvernai donc mon radeau du mieux que je pus pour le maintenir dans le\nmilieu du courant; mais l\u00e0 je faillis \u00e0 faire un second naufrage, qui,\ns'il f\u00fbt advenu, m'aurait, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, bris\u00e9 le c\u0153ur. Cette c\u00f4te m'\u00e9tant\ntout-\u00e0-fait inconnue, j'allai toucher d'un bout de mon radeau sur un\nbanc de sable, et comme l'autre bout n'\u00e9tait point ensabl\u00e9, peu s'en\nfallut que toute ma cargaison ne gliss\u00e2t hors du train et ne tomb\u00e2t dans\nl'eau. Je fis tout mon possible, en appuyant mon dos contre les coffres,\npour les retenir \u00e0 leur place; car touts mes efforts eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\ninsuffisants pour repousser le radeau; je n'osais pas, d'ailleurs,\nquitter la posture o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais. Soutenant ainsi les coffres de toutes mes\nforces, je demeurai dans cette position pr\u00e8s d'une demi-heure, durant\nlaquelle la crue de la mar\u00e9e vint me remettre un peu plus de niveau.\nL'eau s'\u00e9levant toujours, quelque temps apr\u00e8s, mon train surnagea de\nnouveau, et, avec la rame que j'avais, je le poussai dans le chenal.\nLorsque j'eus \u00e9t\u00e9 dross\u00e9 plus haut, je me trouvai enfin \u00e0 l'embouchure\nd'une petite rivi\u00e8re, entre deux rives, sur un courant ou flux rapide\nqui remontait. Cependant je cherchais des yeux, sur l'un et l'autre\nbord, une place convenable pour prendre terre; car, esp\u00e9rant, avec le\ntemps, appercevoir quelque navire en mer, je ne voulais pas me laisser\nentra\u00eener trop avant; et c'est pour cela que je r\u00e9solus de m'\u00e9tablir\naussi pr\u00e8s de la c\u00f4te que je le pourrais.\nEnfin je d\u00e9couvris une petite anse sur la rivedroite de la crique, vers\nlaquelle, non sans beaucoup de peine et de difficult\u00e9, je conduisis mon\nradeau. J'en approchai si pr\u00e8s, que, touchant le fond avec ma rame,\nj'aurais pu l'y pousser directement; mais, le faisant, je courais de\nnouveau le risque de submerger ma cargaison, parce que la c\u00f4te \u00e9tait\nraide, c'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 pic et qu'il n'y avait pas une place pour aborder,\no\u00f9, si l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de mon train e\u00fbt port\u00e9 \u00e0 terre, il n'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9lev\u00e9\naussi haut et inclin\u00e9 aussi bas de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 que la premi\u00e8re fois, et\nn'e\u00fbt mis encore mon chargement en danger. Tout ce que je pus faire, ce\nfut d'attendre que la mar\u00e9e f\u00fbt \u00e0 sa plus grande hauteur, me servant\nd'un aviron en guise d'ancre pour retenir mon radeau et l'appuyer contre\nle bord, proche d'un terrain plat que j'esp\u00e9rais voir inond\u00e9, ce qui\narriva effectivement. Si t\u00f4t que je trouvai assez d'eau,--mon radeau\ntirait environ un pied,--je le poussai sur le terrain plat, o\u00f9 je\nl'attachai ou amarrai en fichant dans la terre mes deux rames bris\u00e9es;\nl'une d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 pr\u00e8s d'un bout, l'autre du c\u00f4t\u00e9 oppos\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de l'autre\nbout, et je demeurai ainsi jusqu'\u00e0 ce que le jusant e\u00fbt laiss\u00e9 en\ns\u00fbret\u00e9, sur le rivage, mon radeau et toute ma cargaison.\nEnsuite ma premi\u00e8re occupation fut de reconna\u00eetre le pays, et de\nchercher un endroit favorable pour ma demeure et pour ranger mes\nbagages, et les mettre \u00e0 couvert de tout ce qui pourrait advenir.\nJ'ignorais encore o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais. \u00c9tait-ce une \u00eele ou le continent? \u00c9tait-ce\nhabit\u00e9 ou inhabit\u00e9? \u00c9tais-je ou n'\u00e9tais-je pas en danger des b\u00eates\nf\u00e9roces? \u00c0 un mille de moi au plus, il y avait une montagne tr\u00e8s-haute\net tr\u00e8s-escarp\u00e9e qui semblait en dominer plusieurs autres dont la cha\u00eene\ns'\u00e9tendait au Nord. Je pris un de mes fusils de chasse, un de mes\npistolets et une poire \u00e0 poudre, et arm\u00e9 de la sorte je m'en allai \u00e0 la\nd\u00e9couverte sur cette montagne. Apr\u00e8s avoir, avec beaucoup de peine et de\ndifficult\u00e9, gravi sur la cime, je compris, \u00e0 ma grande affliction, ma\ndestin\u00e9e, c'est-\u00e0-dire que j'\u00e9tais dans une \u00eele au milieu de l'Oc\u00e9an,\nd'o\u00f9 je n'appercevais d'autre terre que des r\u00e9cifs fort \u00e9loign\u00e9s et deux\npetites \u00eeles moindres que celle o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, situ\u00e9es \u00e0 trois lieues\nenviron vers l'Ouest.\nJe reconnus aussi que l'\u00eele \u00e9tait inculte, et que vraisemblablement elle\nn'\u00e9tait habit\u00e9e que par des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces; pourtant je n'en appercevais\naucune; mais en revanche, je voyais quantit\u00e9 d'oiseaux dont je ne\nconnaissais pas l'esp\u00e8ce. Je n'aurais pas m\u00eame pu, lorsque j'en aurais\ntu\u00e9, distinguer ceux qui \u00e9taient bons \u00e0 manger de ceux qui ne l'\u00e9taient\npas. En revenant, je tirai sur un gros oiseau que je vis se poser sur un\narbre, au bord d'un grand bois; c'\u00e9tait, je pense, le premier coup de\nfusil qui e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 tir\u00e9 en ce lieu depuis la cr\u00e9ation du monde. Je n'eus\npas plus t\u00f4t fait feu, que de toutes les parties du bois il s'\u00e9leva un\nnombre innombrable d'oiseaux de diverses esp\u00e8ces, faisant une rumeur\nconfuse et criant chacun selon sa note accoutum\u00e9e. Pas un d'eux n'\u00e9tait\nd'une esp\u00e8ce qui me f\u00fbt connue. Quant \u00e0 l'animal que je tuai, je le pris\npour une sorte de faucon; il en avait la couleur et le bec, mais non pas\nles serres ni les \u00e9perons; sa chair \u00e9tait puante et ne valait absolument\nrien.\nMe contentant de cette d\u00e9couverte, je revins \u00e0 mon radeau et me mis \u00e0\nl'ouvrage pour le d\u00e9charger. Cela me prit tout le reste du jour. Que\nferais-je de moi \u00e0 la nuit? O\u00f9 reposerais-je? en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je l'ignorais;\ncar je redoutais de coucher \u00e0 terre, ne sachant si quelque b\u00eate f\u00e9roce\nne me d\u00e9vorerait pas. Comme j'ai eu lieu de le reconna\u00eetre depuis, ces\ncraintes \u00e9taient r\u00e9ellement mal fond\u00e9es.\nN\u00e9anmoins, je me barricadai aussi bien que je pus avec les coffres et\nles planches que j'avais apport\u00e9s sur le rivage, et je me fis une sorte\nde hutte pour mon logement de cette nuit-l\u00e0. Quant \u00e0 ma nourriture, je\nne savais pas encore comment j'y suppl\u00e9erais, si ce n'est que j'avais vu\ndeux ou trois animaux semblables \u00e0 des li\u00e8vres fuir hors du bois o\u00f9\nj'avais tir\u00e9 sur l'oiseau.\nAlors je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir que je pourrais encore enlever du\nvaisseau bien des choses qui me seraient fort utiles, particuli\u00e8rement\ndes cordages et des voiles, et autres objets qui pourraient \u00eatre\ntransport\u00e9s. Je r\u00e9solus donc de faire un nouveau voyage \u00e0 bord si\nc'\u00e9tait possible; et, comme je n'ignorais pas que la premi\u00e8re tourmente\nqui soufflerait briserait n\u00e9cessairement le navire en mille pi\u00e8ces, je\nrenon\u00e7ai \u00e0 rien entreprendre jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'en eusse retir\u00e9 tout ce\nque je pourrais en avoir. Alors je tins conseil, en mes pens\u00e9es veux-je\ndire, pour d\u00e9cider si je me resservirais du m\u00eame radeau. Cela me parut\nimpraticable; aussi me d\u00e9terminai-je \u00e0 y retourner comme la premi\u00e8re\nfois, quand la mar\u00e9e serait basse, ce que je fis; seulement je me\nd\u00e9shabillai avant de sortir de ma hutte, ne conservant qu'une chemise\nray\u00e9e[18], une paire de braies de toile et des escarpins.\nJe me rendis pareillement \u00e0 bord et je pr\u00e9parai un second radeau. Ayant\neu l'exp\u00e9rience du premier, je fis celui-ci plus l\u00e9ger et je le chargeai\nmoins pesamment; j'emportai, toutefois, quantit\u00e9 de choses d'une\ntr\u00e8s-grande utilit\u00e9 pour moi. Premi\u00e8rement, dans la soute aux rechanges\ndu ma\u00eetre charpentier, je trouvai deux ou trois sacs pleins de pointes\net de clous, une grande tari\u00e8re, une douzaine ou deux de haches, et, de\nplus, cette chose d'un si grand usage nomm\u00e9e meule \u00e0 aiguiser. Je mis\ntout cela \u00e0 part, et j'y r\u00e9unis beaucoup d'objets appartenant au\ncanonnier, nomm\u00e9ment deux ou trois leviers de fer, deux barils de balles\nde mousquet, sept mousquets, un troisi\u00e8me fusil de chasse, une petite\nquantit\u00e9 de poudre, un gros sac plein de cendr\u00e9e et un grand rouleau de\nfeuilles de plomb; mais ce dernier \u00e9tait si pesant que je ne pus le\nsoulever pour le faire passer par-dessus le bord.\nEn outre je pris une voile de rechange du petit hunier, un hamac, un\ncoucher complet et touts les v\u00eatements que je pus trouver. Je chargeai\ndonc mon second radeau de tout ceci, que j'amenai sain et sauf sur le\nrivage, \u00e0 ma tr\u00e8s-grande satisfaction.\nLA CHAMBRE DU CAPITAINE\nDurant mon absence j'avais craint que, pour le moins, mes provisions ne\nfussent d\u00e9vor\u00e9es; mais, \u00e0 mon retour, je ne trouvai aucune trace de\nvisiteur, seulement un animal semblable \u00e0 un chat sauvage \u00e9tait assis\nsur un des coffres. Lorsque je m'avan\u00e7ai vers lui, il s'enfuit \u00e0 une\npetite distance, puis s'arr\u00eata tout court; et s'asseyant, tr\u00e8s-calme et\ntr\u00e8s-insouciant, il me regarda en face, comme s'il e\u00fbt eu envie de lier\nconnaissance avec moi. Je lui pr\u00e9sentai mon fusil; mais comme il ne\nsavait ce que cela signifiait, il y resta parfaitement indiff\u00e9rent, sans\nm\u00eame faire mine de s'en aller. Sur ce je lui jetai un morceau de\nbiscuit, bien que, certes, je n'en fusse pas fort prodigue, car ma\nprovision n'\u00e9tait pas consid\u00e9rable. N'importe, je lui donnai ce morceau,\net il s'en approcha, le flaira, le mangea, puis me regarda d'un air\nd'aise pour en avoir encore; mais je le remerciai, ne pouvant lui en\noffrir davantage; alors il se retira.\nMa seconde cargaison ayant gagn\u00e9 la terre, encore que j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9\ncontraint d'ouvrir les barils et d'en emporter la poudre par\npaquets,--car c'\u00e9taient de gros tonneau fort lourds,--je me mis \u00e0\nl'ouvrage pour me faire une petite tente avec la voile, et des perches\nque je coupai \u00e0 cet effet. Sous cette tente je rangeai tout ce qui\npouvait se g\u00e2ter \u00e0 la pluie ou au soleil, et j'empilai en cercle, \u00e0\nl'entour, touts les coffres et touts les barils vides, pour la fortifier\ncontre toute attaque soudaine, soit d'hommes soit de b\u00eates.\nCela fait, je barricadai en dedans, avec des planches, la porte de cette\ntente, et, en dehors, avec une caisse vide pos\u00e9e debout; puis j'\u00e9tendis\n\u00e0 terre un de mes couchers. Pla\u00e7ant mes pistolets \u00e0 mon chevet et mon\nfusil \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 de moi, je me mis au lit pour la premi\u00e8re fois, et dormis\ntr\u00e8s-paisiblement toute la nuit, car j'\u00e9tais accabl\u00e9 de fatigue. Je\nn'avais que fort peu repos\u00e9 la nuit pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente, et j'avais rudement\ntravaill\u00e9 tout le jour, tant \u00e0 aller qu\u00e9rir \u00e0 bord toutes ces choses\nqu'\u00e0 les transporter \u00e0 terre.\nJ'avais alors le plus grand magasin d'objets de toutes sortes, qui, sans\ndoute, e\u00fbt jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 amass\u00e9 pour un seul homme, mais je n'\u00e9tais pas\nsatisfait encore; je pensais que tant que le navire resterait \u00e0\nl'\u00e9chouage, il \u00e9tait de mon devoir d'en retirer tout ce que je pourrais.\nChaque jour, donc, j'allais \u00e0 bord \u00e0 mer \u00e9tale, et je rapportais une\nchose ou une autre; nomm\u00e9ment, la troisi\u00e8me fois que je m'y rendis,\nj'enlevai autant d'agr\u00e8s qu'il me fut possible, touts les petits\ncordages et le fil \u00e0 voile, une pi\u00e8ce de toile de r\u00e9serve pour\nraccommoder les voiles au besoin, et le baril de poudre mouill\u00e9e. Bref,\nj'emportai toutes les voiles, depuis la premi\u00e8re jusqu'\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re;\nseulement je fus oblig\u00e9 de les couper en morceaux, pour en apporter \u00e0 la\nfois autant que possible. D'ailleurs ce n'\u00e9tait plus comme voilure, mais\ncomme simple toile qu'elles devaient servir.\nCe qui me fit le plus de plaisir, ce fut qu'apr\u00e8s cinq ou six voyages\nsemblables, et lorsque je pensais que le b\u00e2timent ne contenait plus rien\nqui val\u00fbt la peine que j'y touchasse, je d\u00e9couvris une grande barrique\nde biscuits[19], trois gros barils de _rum_ ou de liqueurs fortes, une\ncaisse de sucre et un baril de fine fleur de farine. Cela m'\u00e9tonna\nbeaucoup, parce que je ne m'attendais plus \u00e0 trouver d'autres provisions\nque celles avari\u00e9es par l'eau. Je vidai promptement la barrique de\nbiscuits, j'en fis plusieurs parts, que j'enveloppai dans quelques\nmorceaux de voile que j'avais taill\u00e9s. Et, en un mot, j'apportai encore\ntout cela heureusement \u00e0 terre.\nLe lendemain je fis un autre voyage. Comme j'avais d\u00e9pouill\u00e9 le vaisseau\nde tout ce qui \u00e9tait d'un transport facile, je me mis apr\u00e8s les c\u00e2bles.\nJe coupai celui de grande tou\u00e9e en morceaux proportionn\u00e9s \u00e0 mes forces;\net j'en amassai deux autres ainsi qu'une aussi\u00e8re, et touts les\nferrements que je pus arracher. Alors je coupai la vergue de civadi\u00e8re\net la vergue d'artimon, et tout ce qui pouvait me servir \u00e0 faire un\ngrand radeau, pour charger touts ces pesants objets, et je partis. Mais\nma bonne chance commen\u00e7ait alors \u00e0 m'abandonner: ce radeau \u00e9tait si\nlourd et tellement surcharg\u00e9, qu'ayant donn\u00e9 dans la petite anse o\u00f9 je\nd\u00e9barquais mes provisions, et ne pouvant pas le conduire aussi\nadroitement que j'avais conduit les autres, il chavira, et me jeta dans\nl'eau avec toute ma cargaison. Quant \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame, le mal ne fut pas\ngrand, car j'\u00e9tais proche du rivage; mais ma cargaison fut perdue en\ngrande partie, surtout le fer, que je comptais devoir m'\u00eatre d'un si\ngrand usage. N\u00e9anmoins, quand la mar\u00e9e se fut retir\u00e9e, je portai \u00e0 terre\nla plupart des morceaux de c\u00e2ble, et quelque peu du fer, mais avec une\npeine infinie, car pour cela je fus oblig\u00e9 de plonger dans l'eau,\ntravail qui me fatiguait extr\u00eamement. Toutefois je ne laissais pas\nchaque jour de retourner \u00e0 bord, et d'en rapporter tout ce que je\npouvais.\nIl y avait alors treize jours que j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 terre; j'\u00e9tais all\u00e9 onze\nfois \u00e0 bord du vaisseau, et j'en avais enlev\u00e9, durant cet intervalle,\ntout ce qu'il \u00e9tait possible \u00e0 un seul homme d'emporter. Et je crois\nvraiment que si le temps calme e\u00fbt continu\u00e9, j'aurais amen\u00e9 tout le\nb\u00e2timent, pi\u00e8ce \u00e0 pi\u00e8ce. Comme je me pr\u00e9parais \u00e0 aller \u00e0 bord pour la\ndouzi\u00e8me fois, je sentis le vent qui commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se lever. N\u00e9anmoins, \u00e0\nla mar\u00e9e basse, je m'y rendis; et quoique je pensasse avoir parfaitement\nfouill\u00e9 la chambre du capitaine, et que je n'y crusse plus rien\nrencontrer, je d\u00e9couvris pourtant un meuble garni de tiroirs, dans l'un\ndesquels je trouvai deux ou trois rasoirs, une paire de grands ciseaux,\net une douzaine environ de bons couteaux et de fourchettes;--puis, dans\nun autre, la valeur au moins de trente-six livres sterling en esp\u00e8ces\nd'or et d'argent, soit europ\u00e9ennes soit br\u00e9siliennes, et entre autres\nquelques pi\u00e8ces de huit.\n\u00c0 la vue de cet argent je souris en moi-m\u00eame, et je m'\u00e9criai:--\u00ab\u00d4\ndrogue! \u00e0 quoi es-tu bonne? Tu ne vaux pas pour moi, non, tu ne vaux pas\nla peine que je me baisse pour te prendre! Un seul de ces couteaux est\nplus pour moi que cette somme.[20] Je n'ai nul besoin de toi; demeure\ndonc o\u00f9 tu es, et va au fond de la mer, comme une cr\u00e9ature qui ne m\u00e9rite\npas qu'on la sauve.\u00bb--Je me ravisai cependant, je le pris, et, l'ayant\nenvelopp\u00e9 avec les autres objets dans un morceau de toile, je songeai \u00e0\nfaire un nouveau radeau. Sur ces entrefaites, je m'apper\u00e7us que le ciel\n\u00e9tait couvert, et que le vent commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 fra\u00eechir. Au bout d'un quart\nd'heure il souffla un bon frais de la c\u00f4te. Je compris de suite qu'il\n\u00e9tait inutile d'essayer \u00e0 faire un radeau avec une brise venant de\nterre, et que mon affaire \u00e9tait de partir avant qu'il y e\u00fbt du flot,\nqu'autrement je pourrais bien ne jamais revoir le rivage. Je me jetai\ndonc \u00e0 l'eau, et je traversai \u00e0 la nage le chenal ouvert entre le\nb\u00e2timent et les sables, mais avec assez de difficult\u00e9, \u00e0 cause des\nobjets pesants que j'avais sur moi, et du clapotage de la mer; car le\nvent for\u00e7a si brusquement, que la temp\u00eate se d\u00e9cha\u00eena avant m\u00eame que la\nmar\u00e9e f\u00fbt haute.\nMais j'\u00e9tais d\u00e9j\u00e0 rentr\u00e9 chez moi, dans ma petite tente, et assis en\ns\u00e9curit\u00e9 au milieu de toute ma richesse. Il fit un gros temps toute la\nnuit; et, le matin, quand je regardai en mer, le navire avait disparu.\nJe fus un peu surpris; mais je me remis aussit\u00f4t par cette consolante\nr\u00e9flexion, que je n'avais point perdu de temps ni \u00e9pargn\u00e9 aucune\ndiligence pour en retirer tout ce qui pouvait m'\u00eatre utile; et, qu'au\nfait, il y \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 peu de choses que j'eusse pu transporter quand\nm\u00eame j'aurais eu plus de temps.\nD\u00e8s lors je d\u00e9tournai mes pens\u00e9es du b\u00e2timent et de ce qui pouvait en\nprovenir, sans renoncer toutefois aux d\u00e9bris qui viendraient \u00e0 d\u00e9river\nsur le rivage, comme, en effet, il en d\u00e9riva dans la suite, mais qui\nfurent pour moi de peu d'utilit\u00e9.\nMon esprit ne s'occupa plus alors qu'\u00e0 chercher les moyens de me mettre\nen s\u00fbret\u00e9, soit contre les Sauvages qui pourraient survenir, soit contre\nles b\u00eates f\u00e9roces, s'il y en avait dans l'\u00eele. J'avais plusieurs\nsentiments touchant l'accomplissement de ce projet, et touchant la\ndemeure que j'avais \u00e0 me construire, soit que je me fisse une grotte\nsous terre ou une tente sur le sol. Bref je r\u00e9solus d'avoir l'un et\nl'autre, et de telle sorte, qu'\u00e0 coup s\u00fbr la description n'en sera point\nhors de propos.\nJe reconnus d'abord que le lieu o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais n'\u00e9tait pas convenable pour\nmon \u00e9tablissement. Particuli\u00e8rement, parce que c'\u00e9tait un terrain bas et\nmar\u00e9cageux, proche de la mer, que je croyais ne pas devoir \u00eatre sain, et\nplus particuli\u00e8rement encore parce qu'il n'y avait point d'eau douce\npr\u00e8s de l\u00e0. Je me d\u00e9terminai donc \u00e0 chercher un coin de terre plus\nfavorable.\nJe devais consid\u00e9rer plusieurs choses dans le choix de ce site: 1\u00ba la\nsalubrit\u00e9, et l'eau douce dont je parlais tout-\u00e0-l'heure; 2\u00ba l'abri\ncontre la chaleur du soleil; 3\u00ba la protection contre toutes cr\u00e9atures\nrapaces, soit hommes ou b\u00eates; 4\u00ba la vue de la mer, afin que si Dieu\nenvoyait quelque b\u00e2timent dans ces parages, je pusse en profiter pour ma\nd\u00e9livrance; car je ne voulais point encore en bannir l'espoir de mon\nc\u0153ur.\nEn cherchant un lieu qui r\u00e9unit tout ces avantages, je trouvai une\npetite plaine situ\u00e9e au pied d'une colline, dont le flanc, regardant\ncette esplanade, s'\u00e9levait \u00e0 pic comme la fa\u00e7ade d'une maison, de sorte\nque rien ne pouvait venir \u00e0 moi de haut en bas. Sur le devant de ce\nrocher, il y avait un enfoncement qui ressemblait \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e ou \u00e0 la\nporte d'une cave; mais il n'existait r\u00e9ellement aucune caverne ni aucun\nchemin souterrain.\nCe fut sur cette pelouse, juste devant cette cavit\u00e9, que je r\u00e9solus de\nm'\u00e9tablir. La plaine n'avait pas plus de cent verges de largeur sur une\nlongueur double, et formait devant ma porte un boulingrin qui s'en\nallait mourir sur la plage en pente douce et irr\u00e9guli\u00e8re. Cette\nsituation \u00e9tait au Nord-Nord-Ouest de la colline, de mani\u00e8re que chaque\njour j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 l'abri de la chaleur, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que le soleil d\u00e9clin\u00e2t \u00e0\nl'Ouest quart Sud, ou environ; mais, alors, dans ces climats, il n'est\npas \u00e9loign\u00e9 de son coucher.\nAvant de dresser ma tente, je tra\u00e7ai devant le creux du rocher un\ndemi-cercle dont le rayon avait environ dix verges \u00e0 partir du roc, et\nle diam\u00e8tre vingt verges depuis un bout jusqu'\u00e0 l'autre.\nJe plantai dans ce demi-cercle deux rang\u00e9es de gros pieux que j'enfon\u00e7ai\nen terre jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils fussent solides comme des pilotis. Leur gros\nbout, taill\u00e9 en pointe, s'\u00e9levait hors de terre \u00e0 la hauteur de cinq\npieds et demi; entre les deux rangs il n'y avait pas plus de six pouces\nd'intervalle.\nJe pris ensuite les morceaux de c\u00e2bles que j'avais coup\u00e9s \u00e0 bord du\nvaisseau, et je les posai les uns sur les autres, dans l'entre-deux de\nla double palissade, jusqu'\u00e0 son sommet. Puis, en dedans du demi-cercle,\nj'ajoutai d'autres pieux d'environ deux pieds et demi, s'appuyant contre\nles premiers et leur servant de contrefiches.\nCet ouvrage \u00e9tait si fort que ni homme ni b\u00eate n'aurait pu le forcer ni\nle franchir. Il me co\u00fbta beaucoup de temps et de travail, surtout pour\ncouper les pieux dans les bois, les porter \u00e0 pied-d'\u0153uvre et les\nenfoncer en terre.\nLA CH\u00c8VRE ET SON CHEVREAU\nPour entrer dans la place je fis, non pas une porte, mais une petite\n\u00e9chelle avec laquelle je passais par-dessus ce rempart. Quand j'\u00e9tais en\ndedans, je l'enlevais et la tirais \u00e0 moi. Je me croyais ainsi\nparfaitement d\u00e9fendu et fortifi\u00e9 contre le monde entier, et je dormais\ndonc en toute s\u00e9curit\u00e9 pendant la nuit, ce qu'autrement je n'aurais pu\nfaire. Pourtant, comme je le reconnus dans la suite il n'\u00e9tait nullement\nbesoin de toutes ces pr\u00e9cautions contre des ennemis que je m'\u00e9tais\nimagin\u00e9 avoir \u00e0 redouter.\nDans ce retranchement ou cette forteresse, je transportai avec beaucoup\nde peine toutes mes richesses, toutes mes vivres, toutes mes munitions\net provisions, dont plus haut vous avez eu le d\u00e9tail, et je me dressai\nune vaste tente que je fis double, pour me garantir des pluies qui sont\nexcessives en cette r\u00e9gion pendant certain temps de l'ann\u00e9e;\nc'est-\u00e0-dire que j'\u00e9tablis d'abord une tente de m\u00e9diocre grandeur;\nensuite une plus spacieuse par-dessus, recouverte d'une grande toile\ngoudronn\u00e9e que j'avais mise en r\u00e9serve avec les voiles.\nD\u00e8s lors je cessai pour un temps de coucher dans le lit que j'avais\napport\u00e9 \u00e0 terre, pr\u00e9f\u00e9rant un fort bon hamac qui avait appartenu au\ncapitaine de notre vaisseau.\nAyant apport\u00e9 dans cette tente toutes mes provisions et tout ce qui\npouvait se g\u00e2ter \u00e0 l'humidit\u00e9, et ayant ainsi renferm\u00e9 touts mes biens,\nje condamnai le passage que, jusqu'alors, j'avais laiss\u00e9 ouvert, et je\npassai et repassai avec ma petite \u00e9chelle, comme je l'ai dit.\nCela fait, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 creuser dans le roc, et transportant \u00e0 travers\nma tente la terre et les pierres que j'en tirais, j'en formai une sorte\nde terrasse qui \u00e9leva le sol d'environ un pied et demi en dedans de la\npalissade. Ainsi, justement derri\u00e8re ma tente, je me fis une grotte qui\nme servait comme de cellier pour ma maison.\nIl m'en co\u00fbta beaucoup de travail et beaucoup de temps avant que je\npusse porter \u00e0 leur perfection ces diff\u00e9rents ouvrages; c'est ce qui\nm'oblige \u00e0 reprendre quelques faits qui fix\u00e8rent une partie de mon\nattention durant ce temps. Un jour, lorsque ma tente et ma grotte\nn'existaient encore qu'en projet, il arriva qu'un nuage sombre et \u00e9pais\nfondit en pluie d'orage, et que soudain un \u00e9clair en jaillit, et fut\nsuivi d'un grand coup de tonnerre. La foudre m'\u00e9pouvanta moins que cette\npens\u00e9e, qui traversa mon esprit avec la rapidit\u00e9 m\u00eame de l'\u00e9clair: \u00d4 ma\npoudre!... Le c\u0153ur me manqua quand je songeai que toute ma poudre\npouvait sauter d'un seul coup; ma poudre, mon unique moyen de pourvoir \u00e0\nma d\u00e9fense et \u00e0 ma nourriture. Il s'en fallait de beaucoup que je fusse\naussi inquiet sur mon propre danger, et cependant si la poudre e\u00fbt pris\nfeu, je n'aurais pas eu le temps de reconna\u00eetre d'o\u00f9 venait le coup qui\nme frappait.\nCette pens\u00e9e fit une telle impression sur moi, qu'aussit\u00f4t l'orage\npass\u00e9, je suspendis mes travaux, ma b\u00e2tisse, et mes fortifications, et\nme mis \u00e0 faire des sacs et des bo\u00eetes pour diviser ma poudre par petites\nquantit\u00e9s; esp\u00e9rant qu'ainsi s\u00e9par\u00e9e, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt advenir, tout ne\npourrait s'enflammer \u00e0 la fois; puis je dispersai ces paquets de telle\nfa\u00e7on qu'il aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible que le feu se communiqu\u00e2t de l'un \u00e0\nl'autre. J'achevai cette besogne en quinze jours environ; et je crois\nque ma poudre, qui pesait bien en tout deux cent quarante livres, ne fut\npas divis\u00e9e en moins de cent paquets. Quant au baril qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nmouill\u00e9, il ne me donnait aucune crainte; aussi le pla\u00e7ai-je dans ma\nnouvelle grotte, que par fantaisie j'appelais ma cuisine; et quant au\nreste, je le cachai \u00e0 une grande hauteur et profondeur, dans des trous\nde rochers, \u00e0 couvert de la pluie, et que j'eus grand soin de remarquer.\nTandis que j'\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 \u00e0 ce travail, je sortais au moins une\nfoischaque jour avec mon fusil, soit pour me r\u00e9cr\u00e9er, soit pour voir si\nje ne pourrais pas tuer quelque animal pour ma nourriture, soit enfin\npour reconna\u00eetre autant qu'il me serait possible quelles \u00e9taient les\nproductions de l'\u00eele. D\u00e8s ma premi\u00e8re exploration je d\u00e9couvris qu'il y\navait des ch\u00e8vres, ce qui me causa une grande joie; mais cette joie fut\nmod\u00e9r\u00e9e par un d\u00e9sappointement: ces animaux \u00e9taient si m\u00e9fiants, si\nfins, si rapides \u00e0 la course, que c'\u00e9tait la chose du monde la plus\ndifficile que de les approcher. Cette circonstance ne me d\u00e9couragea\npourtant pas, car je ne doutais nullement que je n'en pusse blesser de\ntemps \u00e0 autre, ce qui ne tarda pas \u00e0 se v\u00e9rifier. Apr\u00e8s avoir observ\u00e9 un\npeu leurs habitudes, je leur dressai une emb\u00fbche. J'avais remarqu\u00e9 que\nlorsque du haut des rochers elles m'appercevaient dans les vall\u00e9es,\nelles prenaient l'\u00e9pouvante et s'enfuyaient. Mais si elles paissaient\ndans la plaine, et que je fusse sur quelque \u00e9minence, elles ne prenaient\nnullement garde \u00e0 moi. De l\u00e0 je conclus que, par la position de leurs\nyeux, elles avaient la vue tellement dirig\u00e9e en bas, qu'elles ne\nvoyaient pas ais\u00e9ment les objets plac\u00e9s au-dessus d'elles. J'adoptai en\ncons\u00e9quence la m\u00e9thode de commencer toujours ma chasse par grimper sur\ndes rochers qui les dominaient, et de l\u00e0 je l'avais souvent belle pour\ntirer. Du premier coup que je l\u00e2chai sur ces ch\u00e8vres, je tuai une bique\nqui avait aupr\u00e8s d'elle un petit cabri qu'elle nourrissait, ce qui me\nfit beaucoup de peine. Quand la m\u00e8re fut tomb\u00e9e, le petit chevreau,\nnon-seulement resta aupr\u00e8s d'elle jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'allasse la ramasser,\nmais encore quand je l'emportai sur mes \u00e9paules, il me suivit jusqu'\u00e0\nmon enclos. Arriv\u00e9 l\u00e0, je la d\u00e9posai \u00e0 terre, et prenant le biquet dans\nmes bras, je le passai par-dessus la palissade, dans l'esp\u00e9rance de\nl'apprivoiser. Mais il ne voulut point manger, et je fus donc oblig\u00e9 de\nle tuer et de le manger moi-m\u00eame. Ces deux animaux me fournirent de\nviande pour long-temps, car je vivais avec parcimonie, et m\u00e9nageais mes\nprovisions,--surtout mon pain,--autant qu'il \u00e9tait possible.\nAyant alors fix\u00e9 le lieu de ma demeure, je trouvai qu'il \u00e9tait\nabsolument n\u00e9cessaire que je pourvusse \u00e0 un endroit pour faire du feu,\net \u00e0 des provisions de chauffage. De ce que je fis \u00e0 cette intention, de\nla mani\u00e8re dont j'agrandis ma grotte, et des aisances que j'y ajoutai,\nje donnerai amplement le d\u00e9tail en son temps et lieu; mais il faut\nd'abord que je parle de moi-m\u00eame, et du tumulte de mes pens\u00e9es sur ma\nvie.\nMa situation m'apparaissait sous un jour affreux; comme je n'avais\n\u00e9chou\u00e9 sur cette \u00eele qu'apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 entra\u00een\u00e9 par une violente\ntemp\u00eate hors de la route de notre voyage projet\u00e9, et \u00e0 une centaine de\nlieues loin de la course ordinaire des navigateurs, j'avais de fortes\nraisons pour croire que, par arr\u00eat du ciel, je devais terminer ma vie de\ncette triste mani\u00e8re, dans ce lieu de d\u00e9solation. Quand je faisais ces\nr\u00e9flexions, des larmes coulaient en abondance sur mon visage, et\nquelquefois je me plaignais \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame de ce que la Providence pouvait\nruiner ainsi compl\u00e8tement ses cr\u00e9atures, les rendre si absolument\nmis\u00e9rables, et les accabler \u00e0 un tel point qu'\u00e0 peine serait-il\nraisonnable qu'elles lui sussent gr\u00e9 de l'existence.\nMais j'avais toujours un prompt retour sur moi-m\u00eame, qui arr\u00eatait le\ncours de ces pens\u00e9es et me couvrait de bl\u00e2me. Un jour entre autres, me\npromenant sur le rivage, mon fusil \u00e0 la main, j'\u00e9tais fort attrist\u00e9 de\nmon sort, quand la raison vint pour ainsi dire disputer avec moi, et me\nparla ainsi:--\u00abTu es, il est vrai, dans l'abandon; mais rappelle-toi,\ns'il te pla\u00eet, ce qu'est devenu le reste de l'\u00e9quipage. N'\u00e9tiez-vous pas\ndescendus onze dans la chaloupe? o\u00f9 sont les dix autres? Pourquoi\nn'ont-ils pas \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9s, et toi perdu? Pourquoi as-tu \u00e9t\u00e9 le seul\n\u00e9pargn\u00e9? Lequel vaut mieux d'\u00eatre ici ou d'\u00eatre l\u00e0?\u00bb--En m\u00eame temps je\nd\u00e9signais du doigt la mer.--Il faut toujours consid\u00e9rer dans les maux le\nbon qui peut faire compensation, et ce qu'ils auraient pu amener de\npire.\nAlors je compris de nouveau combien j'\u00e9tais largement pourvu pour ma\nsubsistance. Quel e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 mon sort, s'il n'\u00e9tait pas arriv\u00e9, par une\nchance qui s'offrirait \u00e0 peine une fois sur cent mille, que le vaisseau\nse soulev\u00e2t du banc o\u00f9 il s'\u00e9tait ensabl\u00e9 d'abord, et d\u00e9riv\u00e2t si proche\nde la c\u00f4te, que j'eusse le temps d'en faire le sauvetage! Quel e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\nmon sort, s'il e\u00fbt fallu que je v\u00e9cusse dans le d\u00e9nuement o\u00f9 je me\ntrouvais en abordant le rivage, sans les premi\u00e8res n\u00e9cessit\u00e9s de la vie,\net sans les choses n\u00e9cessaires pour me les procurer et pour y\nsuppl\u00e9er!--\u00abSurtout qu'aurais-je fait, m'\u00e9criai-je, sans fusil, sans\nmunitions, sans outils pour travailler et me fabriquer bien des choses,\nsans v\u00eatements, sans lit, sans tente, sans aucune esp\u00e8ce d'abri!\u00bb--Mais\nj'avais de tout cela en abondance, et j'\u00e9tais en beau chemin de pouvoir\nm'approvisionner par moi-m\u00eame, et me passer de mon fusil, lorsque mes\nmunitions seraient \u00e9puis\u00e9es. J'\u00e9tais ainsi \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s assur\u00e9 d'avoir\ntant que j'existerais une vie exempte du besoin. Car d\u00e8s le commencement\nj'avais song\u00e9 \u00e0 me pr\u00e9munir contre les accidents qui pourraient\nsurvenir, non-seulement apr\u00e8s l'enti\u00e8re consommation de mes munitions,\nmais encore apr\u00e8s l'affaiblissement de mes forces et de ma sant\u00e9.\nJ'avouerai, toutefois, que je n'avais pas soup\u00e7onn\u00e9 que mes munitions\npouvaient \u00eatre d\u00e9truites d'un seul coup, j'entends que le feu du ciel\npouvait faire sauter ma poudre; et c'est ce qui fit que cette pens\u00e9e me\nconsterna si fort, lorsqu'il vint \u00e0 \u00e9clairer et \u00e0 tonner, comme je l'ai\ndit plus haut.\nMaintenant que je suis sur le point de m'engager dans la relation\nm\u00e9lancolique d'une vie silencieuse, d'une vie peut-\u00eatre inou\u00efe dans le\nmonde, je reprendrai mon r\u00e9cit d\u00e8s le commencement, et je le continuerai\navec m\u00e9thode. Ce fut, suivant mon calcul, le 30 de septembre que je mis\nle pied pour la premi\u00e8re fois sur cette \u00eele affreuse; lorsque le soleil\n\u00e9tait, pour ces r\u00e9gions, dans l'\u00e9quinoxe d'automne, et presque \u00e0 plomb\nsur ma t\u00eate. Je reconnus par cette observation que je me trouvais par\nles 9 degr\u00e9s 22 minutes de latitude au Nord de l'\u00e9quateur.\nAu bout d'environ dix ou douze jours que j'\u00e9tais l\u00e0, il me vint en\nl'esprit que je perdrais la connaissance du temps, faute de livres, de\nplumes et d'encre, et m\u00eame que je ne pourrais plus distinguer les\ndimanches des jours ouvrables. Pour \u00e9viter cette confusion, j'\u00e9rigeai\nsur le rivage o\u00f9 j'avais pris terre pour la premi\u00e8re fois, un gros\npoteau en forme de croix, sur lequel je gravai avec mon couteau, en\nlettres capitales, cette inscription:\n=J'ABORDAI ICI LE 30 SEPTEMBRE 1659.=\nSur les c\u00f4t\u00e9s de ce poteau carr\u00e9, je faisais touts les jours une\nhoche[21], chaque septi\u00e8me hoche avait le double de la longueur des\nautres, et touts les premiers du mois j'en marquais une plus longue\nencore: par ce moyen, j'entretins mon calendrier, ou le calcul de mon\ntemps, divis\u00e9 par semaines, mois et ann\u00e9es.\nC'est ici le lieu d'observer que, parmi le grand nombre de choses que\nj'enlevai du vaisseau, dans les diff\u00e9rents voyages que j'y fis, je me\nprocurai beaucoup d'articles de moindre valeur, mais non pas d'un\nmoindre usage pour moi, et que j'ai n\u00e9glig\u00e9 de mentionner pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment;\ncomme, par exemple, des plumes, de l'encre, du papier et quelques autres\nobjets serr\u00e9s dans les cabines du capitaine, du second, du canonnier et\ndu charpentier; trois ou quatre compas, des instruments de\nmath\u00e9matiques, des cadrans, des lunettes d'approche, des cartes et des\nlivres de navigation, que j'avais pris p\u00eale-m\u00eale sans savoir si j'en\naurais besoin ou non. Je trouvai aussi trois fort bonnes Bibles que\nj'avais re\u00e7ues d'Angleterre avec ma cargaison, et que j'avais emball\u00e9es\navec mes hardes; en outre, quelques livres portugais, deux ou trois de\npri\u00e8res catholiques, et divers autres volumes que je conservai\nsoigneusement.\nLA CHAISE\nIl ne faut pas que j'oublie que nous avions dans le vaisseau un chien et\ndeux chats. Je dirai \u00e0 propos quelque chose de leur histoire fameuse.\nJ'emportai les deux chats avec moi; quant au chien, il sauta de lui-m\u00eame\nhors du vaisseau, et vint \u00e0 la nage me retrouver \u00e0 terre, apr\u00e8s que j'y\neus conduit ma premi\u00e8re cargaison. Pendant bien des ann\u00e9es il fut pour\nmoi un serviteur fid\u00e8le; je n'eus jamais faute de ce qu'il pouvait\nm'aller qu\u00e9rir, ni de la compagnie qu'il pouvait me faire; seulement\nj'aurais d\u00e9sir\u00e9 qu'il me parl\u00e2t, mais c'\u00e9tait chose impossible. J'ai dit\nque j'avais trouv\u00e9 des plumes, de l'encre et du papier; je les m\u00e9nageai\nextr\u00eamement, et je ferai voir que tant que mon encre dura je tins un\ncompte exact de toutes choses; mais, quand elle fut us\u00e9e cela me devint\nimpraticable, car je ne pus parvenir \u00e0 en faire d'autre par aucun des\nmoyens que j'imaginai.\nCela me fait souvenir que, nonobstant tout ce que j'avais amass\u00e9, il me\nmanquait quantit\u00e9 de choses. De ce nombre \u00e9tait premi\u00e8rement l'encre,\nensuite une b\u00eache, une pioche et une pelle pour fouir et transporter la\nterre; enfin des aiguilles, des \u00e9pingles et du fil. Quant \u00e0 de la toile,\nj'appris bient\u00f4t \u00e0 m'en passer sans beaucoup de peine.\nCe manque d'outils faisait que dans touts mes travaux je n'avan\u00e7ais que\nlentement, et il s'\u00e9coula pr\u00e8s d'une ann\u00e9e avant que j'eusse enti\u00e8rement\nachev\u00e9 ma petite palissade ou parqu\u00e9 mon habitation. Ses palis ou pieux\n\u00e9taient si pesants, que c'\u00e9tait tout ce que je pouvais faire de les\nsoulever. Il me fallait long-temps pour les couper et les fa\u00e7onner dans\nles bois, et bien plus long-temps encore pour les amener jusqu'\u00e0 ma\ndemeure. Je passais quelquefois deux jours \u00e0 tailler et \u00e0 transporter un\nseul de ces poteaux, et un troisi\u00e8me jour \u00e0 l'enfoncer en terre. Pour ce\ndernier travail je me servais au commencement d'une lourde pi\u00e8ce de bois\nmais, plus tard, je m'avisai d'employer une barre de fer, ce qui\nn'emp\u00eacha pas, toutefois, que le pilotage de ces palis ou de ces pieux\nne f\u00fbt une rude et longue besogne.\nMais quel besoin aurais-je eu de m'inqui\u00e9ter de la lenteur de n'importe\nquel travail; je sentais tout le temps que j'avais devant moi, et que\ncet ouvrage une fois achev\u00e9 je n'aurais aucune autre occupation, au\nmoins que je pusse pr\u00e9voir, si ce n'est de r\u00f4der dans l'\u00eele pour\nchercher ma nourriture, ce que je faisais plus ou moins chaque jour.\nJe commen\u00e7ai d\u00e8s lors \u00e0 examiner s\u00e9rieusement ma position et les\ncirconstances o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9duit. Je dressai, par \u00e9crit, un \u00e9tat de mes\naffaires, non pas tant pour les laisser \u00e0 ceux qui viendraient apr\u00e8s\nmoi, car il n'y avait pas apparence que je dusse avoir beaucoup\nd'h\u00e9ritiers, que pour d\u00e9livrer mon esprit des pens\u00e9es qui l'assi\u00e9geaient\net l'accablaient chaque jour. Comme ma raison commen\u00e7ait alors \u00e0 me\nrendre ma\u00eetre de mon abattement, j'essayais \u00e0 me consoler moi-m\u00eame du\nmieux que je pouvais, en balan\u00e7ant mes biens et mes maux, afin que je\npusse bien me convaincre que mon sort n'\u00e9tait pas le pire; et, comme\nd\u00e9biteur et cr\u00e9ancier, j'\u00e9tablis, ainsi qu'il suit, un compte\ntr\u00e8s-fid\u00e8le de mes jouissances en regard des mis\u00e8res que je souffrais:\nLE MAL.\nJe suis jet\u00e9 sur une \u00eele horrible et d\u00e9sol\u00e9e, sans aucun espoir de\nd\u00e9livrance.\nLE BIEN.\nMais je suis vivant; mais je n'ai pas \u00e9t\u00e9 noy\u00e9 comme, le furent touts\nmes compagnons de voyage.\nLE MAL.\nJe suis \u00e9cart\u00e9 et s\u00e9par\u00e9, en quelque sorte, du monde entier pour \u00eatre\nmis\u00e9rable.\nLE BIEN.\nMais j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 s\u00e9par\u00e9 du reste de l'\u00e9quipage pour \u00eatre pr\u00e9serv\u00e9 de la\nmort; et Celui qui m'a miraculeusement sauv\u00e9 de la mort peut aussi me\nd\u00e9livrer de cette condition.\nLE MAL.\nJe suis retranch\u00e9 du nombre des hommes; je suis un solitaire, un banni\nde la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 humaine.\nLE BIEN.\nMais je ne suis point mourant de faim et expirant sur une terre st\u00e9rile\nqui ne produise pas de subsistances.\nLE MAL.\nJe n'ai point de v\u00eatements pour me couvrir.\nLE BIEN.\nMais je suis dans un climat chaud, o\u00f9, si j'avais des v\u00eatements, je\npourrais \u00e0 peine les porter.\nLE MAL.\nJe suis sans aucune d\u00e9fense, et sans moyen de r\u00e9sister \u00e0 aucune attaque\nd'hommes ou de b\u00eates.\nLE BIEN.\nMais j'ai \u00e9chou\u00e9 sur une \u00eele o\u00f9 je ne vois nulle b\u00eate f\u00e9roce qui puisse\nme nuire, comme j'en ai vu sur la c\u00f4te d'Afrique; et que serais-je si\nj'y avais naufrag\u00e9?\nLE MAL.\nJe n'ai pas une seule \u00e2me \u00e0 qui parler, ou qui puisse me consoler.\nLE BIEN.\nMais Dieu, par un prodige, a envoy\u00e9 le vaisseau assez pr\u00e8s du rivage\npour que je pusse en tirer tout ce qui m'\u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire pour suppl\u00e9er\n\u00e0 mes besoins ou me rendre capable d'y suppl\u00e9er moi-m\u00eame aussi\nlong-temps que je vivrai.\nEn somme, il en r\u00e9sultait ce t\u00e9moignage indubitable, que, dans le monde,\nil n'est point de condition si mis\u00e9rable o\u00f9 il n'y ait quelque chose de\npositif ou de n\u00e9gatif dont on doit \u00eatre reconnaissant. Que ceci demeure\ndonc comme une le\u00e7on tir\u00e9e de la plus affreuse de toutes les conditions\nhumaines, qu'il est toujours en notre pouvoir de trouver quelques\nconsolations qui peuvent \u00eatre plac\u00e9es dans notre bilan des biens et des\nmaux au cr\u00e9dit de ce compte.\nAyant alors accoutum\u00e9 mon esprit \u00e0 go\u00fbter ma situation, et ne promenant\nplus mes regards en mer dans l'esp\u00e9rance d'y d\u00e9couvrir un vaisseau, je\ncommen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m'appliquer \u00e0 am\u00e9liorer mon genre de vie, et \u00e0 me faire les\nchoses aussi douces que possible.\nJ'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 d\u00e9crit mon habitation ou ma tente, plac\u00e9e au pied d'une roche,\net environn\u00e9e d'une forte palissade de pieux et de c\u00e2bles, que,\nmaintenant, je devrais plut\u00f4t appeler une muraille, car je l'avais\nrenformie, \u00e0 l'ext\u00e9rieur, d'une sorte de contre-mur de gazon d'\u00e0 peu\npr\u00e8s deux pieds d'\u00e9paisseur. Au bout d'un an et demi environ je posai\nsur ce contre-mur des chevrons s'appuyant contre le roc, et que je\ncouvris de branches d'arbres et de tout ce qui pouvait garantir de la\npluie, que j'avais reconnue excessive en certains temps de l'ann\u00e9e.\nJ'ai racont\u00e9 de quelle mani\u00e8re j'avais apport\u00e9 touts mes bagages dans\nmon enclos, et dans la grotte que j'avais faite par derri\u00e8re; mais je\ndois dire aussi que ce n'\u00e9tait d'abord qu'un amas confus d'effets dans\nun tel d\u00e9sordre qu'ils occupaient toute la place, et me laissaient \u00e0\npeine assez d'espace pour me remuer. Je me mis donc \u00e0 agrandir ma\ngrotte, et \u00e0 pousser plus avant mes travaux souterrains; car c'\u00e9tait\nune roche de sablon qui c\u00e9dait ais\u00e9ment \u00e0 mes efforts. Comme alors je me\ntrouvais passablement \u00e0 couvert des b\u00eates de proie, je creusai\nobliquement le roc \u00e0 main droite; et puis, tournant encore droite, je\npoursuivis jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je l'eusse perc\u00e9 \u00e0 jour, pour me faire une\nporte de sortie sur l'ext\u00e9rieur de ma palissade ou de mes\nfortifications.\nNon-seulement cela me donna une issue et une entr\u00e9e, ou, en quelque\nsorte, un chemin d\u00e9rob\u00e9 pour ma tente et mon magasin, mais encore de\nl'espace pour ranger tout mon attirail.\nJ'entrepris alors de me fabriquer les meubles indispensables dont\nj'avais le plus besoin, sp\u00e9cialement une chaise et une table. Sans cela\nje ne pouvais jouir du peu de bien-\u00eatre que j'avais en ce monde; sans\nune table, je n'aurais pu \u00e9crire ou manger, ni faire quantit\u00e9 de choses\navec tant de plaisir.\nJe me mis donc \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre; et ici je constaterai n\u00e9cessairement cette\nobservation, que la raison \u00e9tant l'essence et l'origine des\nmath\u00e9matiques, tout homme qui base chaque chose sur la raison, et juge\ndes choses le plus raisonnablement possible, peut, avec le temps, passer\nma\u00eetre dans n'importe quel art m\u00e9canique. Je n'avais, de ma vie, mani\u00e9\nun outil; et pourtant, \u00e0 la longue, par mon travail, mon application,\nmon industrie, je reconnus enfin qu'il n'y avait aucune des choses qui\nme manquaient que je n'eusse pu faire, surtout si j'avais eu des\ninstruments. Quoi qu'il en soit, sans outils, je fabriquai quantit\u00e9\nd'ouvrages; et seulement avec une hache et une herminette, je vins \u00e0\nbout de quelques-uns qui, sans doute, jusque-l\u00e0, n'avaient jamais \u00e9t\u00e9\nfaits ainsi; mais ce ne fut pas sans une peine infinie. Par exemple, si\nj'avais besoin d'une planche, je n'avais pas d'autre moyen que celui\nd'abattre un arbre, de le coucher devant moi, de le tailler des deux\nc\u00f4t\u00e9s avec ma cogn\u00e9e jusqu'\u00e0 le rendre suffisamment mince, et de le\ndresser ensuite avec mon herminette. Il est vrai que par cette m\u00e9thode\nje ne pouvais tirer qu'une planche d'un arbre entier; mais \u00e0 cela, non\nplus qu'\u00e0 la prodigieuse somme de temps et de travail que j'y d\u00e9pensais,\nil n'y avait d'autre rem\u00e8de que la patience. Apr\u00e8s tout, mon temps ou\nmon labeur \u00e9tait de peu de prix, et il importait peu que je l'employasse\nd'une mani\u00e8re ou d'une autre.\nComme je l'ai dit plus haut, je me fis en premier lieu une chaise et une\ntable, et je me servis, pour cela, des bouts de bordages que j'avais\ntir\u00e9s du navire. Quand j'eus fa\u00e7onn\u00e9 des planches, je pla\u00e7ai de grandes\ntablettes, larges d'un pied et demi, l'une au-dessus de l'autre, tout le\nlong d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 de ma grotte, pour poser mes outils, mes clous, ma\nferraille, en un mot pour assigner \u00e0 chaque chose sa place, et pouvoir\nles trouver ais\u00e9ment. J'enfon\u00e7ai aussi quelques chevilles dans la paroi\ndu rocher pour y pendre mes mousquets et tout ce qui pouvait se\nsuspendre.\nSi quelqu'un avait pu visiter ma grotte, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr elle lui aurait\nsembl\u00e9 un entrep\u00f4t g\u00e9n\u00e9ral d'objets de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9. J'avais ainsi toutes\nchoses si bien \u00e0 ma main, que j'\u00e9prouvais un vrai plaisir \u00e0 voir le bel\nordre de mes effets, et surtout \u00e0 me voir \u00e0 la t\u00eate d'une si grande\nprovision.\nCe fut seulement alors que je me mis \u00e0 tenir un journal de mon\noccupation de chaque jour; car dans les commencements, j'\u00e9tais trop\nembarrass\u00e9 de travaux et j'avais l'esprit dans un trop grand trouble;\nmon journal n'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 rempli que de choses attristantes. Par exemple, il\naurait fallu que je parlasse ainsi: Le 30 septembre, apr\u00e8s avoir gagn\u00e9\nle rivage; apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9chapp\u00e9 \u00e0 la mort, au lieu de remercier Dieu de\nma d\u00e9livrance, ayant rendu d'abord une grande quantit\u00e9 d'eau sal\u00e9e, et\nm'\u00e9tant assez bien remis, je courus \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 sur le rivage, tordant mes\nmains frappant mon front et ma face, invectivant contre ma mis\u00e8re, et\ncriant: \u00abJe suis perdu! perdu!... jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'affaibli et harass\u00e9, je\nfus forc\u00e9 de m'\u00e9tendre sur le sol, o\u00f9 je n'osai pas dormir de peur\nd'\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9.\nQuelques jours plus tard, apr\u00e8s mes voyages au b\u00e2timent, et apr\u00e8s que\nj'en eus tout retir\u00e9, je ne pouvais encore m'emp\u00eacher de gravir sur le\nsommet d'une petite montagne, et l\u00e0 de regarder en mer, dans l'esp\u00e9rance\nd'y appercevoir un navire. Alors j'imaginais voir poindre une voile dans\nle lointain. Je me complaisais dans cet espoir; mais apr\u00e8s avoir regard\u00e9\nfixement jusqu'\u00e0 en \u00eatre presque aveugl\u00e9, mais apr\u00e8s cette vision\n\u00e9vanouie, je m'asseyais et je pleurais comme un enfant. Ainsi\nj'accroissais mes mis\u00e8res par ma folie.\nCHASSE DU 3 NOVEMBRE\nAyant surmont\u00e9 ces faiblesses, et mon domicile et mon ameublement \u00e9tant\n\u00e9tablis aussi bien que possible, je commen\u00e7ai mon journal, dont je vais\nici vous donner la copie aussi loin que je pus le poursuivre; car mon\nencre une fois us\u00e9e, je fus dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de l'interrompre.\n=JOURNAL=\n=30 SEPTEMBRE 1659=\nMoi, pauvre mis\u00e9rable Robinson CRUSOE, apr\u00e8s avoir fait naufrage au\nlarge durant une horrible temp\u00eate, tout l'\u00e9quipage \u00e9tant noy\u00e9, moi-m\u00eame\n\u00e9tant \u00e0 demi-mort, j'abordai \u00e0 cette \u00eele infortun\u00e9e, que je nommai l'\u00cele\ndu D\u00e9sespoir.\nJe passai tout le reste du jour \u00e0 m'affliger de l'\u00e9tat affreux o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais r\u00e9duit: sans nourriture, sans demeure, sans v\u00eatements, sans\narmes, sans lieu de refuge, sans aucune esp\u00e8ce de secours, je ne voyais\nrien devant moi que la mort, soit que je dusse \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par les b\u00eates\nou tu\u00e9 par les Sauvages, ou que je dusse p\u00e9rir de faim. \u00c0 la brune je\nmontai sur un arbre, de peur des animaux f\u00e9roces, et je dormis\nprofond\u00e9ment, quoiqu'il pl\u00fbt toute la nuit.\n=OCTOBRE=\nLe 1er.--\u00c0 ma grande surprise, j'apper\u00e7us, le matin, que le vaisseau\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 soulev\u00e9 par la mar\u00e9e montante, et entra\u00een\u00e9 beaucoup plus pr\u00e8s\ndu rivage. D'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 ce fut une consolation pour moi; car le voyant\nentier et dress\u00e9 sur sa quille, je con\u00e7us l'esp\u00e9rance, si le vent venait\n\u00e0 s'abattre, d'aller \u00e0 bord et d'en tirer les vivres ou les choses\nn\u00e9cessaires pour mon soulagement. D'un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 ce spectacle renouvela\nla douleur que je ressentais de la perte de mes camarades; j'imaginais\nque si nous \u00e9tions demeur\u00e9s \u00e0 bord, nous eussions pu sauver le navire,\nou qu'au moins mes compagnons n'eussent pas \u00e9t\u00e9 noy\u00e9s comme ils\nl'\u00e9taient, et que, si tout l'\u00e9quipage avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9serv\u00e9, peut-\u00eatre nous\neussions pu construire avec les d\u00e9bris du b\u00e2timent une embarcation qui\nnous aurait port\u00e9s en quelque endroit du monde. Je passai une grande\npartie de la journ\u00e9e \u00e0 tourmenter mon \u00e2me de ces regrets; mais enfin,\nvoyant le b\u00e2timent presque \u00e0 sec, j'avan\u00e7ai sur la gr\u00e8ve aussi loin que\nje pus, et me mis \u00e0 la nage pour aller \u00e0 bord. Il continua de pleuvoir\ntout le jour, mais il ne faisait point de vent.\nDu 1er au 24.--Toutes ces journ\u00e9es furent employ\u00e9es \u00e0 faire plusieurs\nvoyages pour tirer du vaisseau tout ce que je pouvais, et l'amener \u00e0\nterre sur des radeaux \u00e0 la faveur de chaque mar\u00e9e montante. Il plut\nbeaucoup durant cet intervalle, quoique avec quelque lueur de beau\ntemps: il para\u00eet que c'\u00e9tait la saison pluvieuse.\nLe 20.--Je renversai mon radeau et touts les objets que j'avais mis\ndessus; mais, comme c'\u00e9tait dans une eau peu profonde, et que la\ncargaison se composait surtout d'objets pesants, j'en recouvrai une\npartie quand la mar\u00e9e se fut retir\u00e9e.\nLe 25.--Tout le jour et toute la nuit il tomba une pluie accompagn\u00e9e de\nrafale; durant ce temps le navire se brisa, et le vent ayant souffl\u00e9\nplus violemment encore, il disparut, et je ne pus appercevoir ses d\u00e9bris\nqu'\u00e0 mer \u00e9tale seulement. Je passai ce jour-l\u00e0 \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 l'abri les\neffets que j'avais sauv\u00e9s, de crainte qu'ils ne s'endommageassent \u00e0 la\npluie.\nLe 26.--Je parcourus le rivage presque tout le jour, pour trouver une\nplace o\u00f9 je pusse fixer mon habitation; j'\u00e9tais fort inquiet de me\nmettre \u00e0 couvert, pendant la nuit, des attaques des hommes et des b\u00eates\nsauvages. Vers le soir je m'\u00e9tablis en un lieu convenable, au pied d'un\nrocher, et je tra\u00e7ai un demi-cercle pour mon campement, que je r\u00e9solus\nd'entourer de fortifications compos\u00e9es d'une double palissade fourr\u00e9e de\nc\u00e2bles et renformie de gazon.\nDu 26 au 30.--Je travaillai rudement \u00e0 transporter touts mes bagages\ndans ma nouvelle habitation, quoiqu'il plut excessivement fort une\npartie de ce temps-l\u00e0.\nLe 31.--Dans la matin\u00e9e je sortis avec mon fusil pour chercher quelque\nnourriture et reconna\u00eetre le pays; je tuai une ch\u00e8vre, dont le chevreau\nme suivit jusque chez moi; mais, dans la suite, comme il refusait de\nmanger, je le tuai aussi.\n=NOVEMBRE=\nLe 1er.--Je dressai ma tente au pied du rocher, et j'y couchai pour la\npremi\u00e8re nuit. Je l'avais faite aussi grande que possible avec des\npiquets que j'y avais plant\u00e9s, et auxquels j'avais suspendu mon hamac.\nLe 2.--J'entassai tout mes coffres, toutes mes planches et tout le bois\nde construction dont j'avais fait mon radeau, et m'en formai un rempart\nautour de moi, un peu en dedans de la ligne que j'avais trac\u00e9e pour mes\nfortifications.\nLe 3.--Je sortis avec mon fusil et je tuai deux oiseaux semblables \u00e0 des\ncanards, qui furent un excellent manger. Dans l'apr\u00e8s-midi je me mis \u00e0\nl'\u0153uvre pour faire une table.\nLe 4.--Je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 r\u00e9gler mon temps de travail et de sortie, mon\ntemps de repos et de r\u00e9cr\u00e9ation, et suivant cette r\u00e8gle que je continuai\nd'observer, le matin, s'il ne pleuvait pas; je sortais avec mon fusil\npour deux ou trois heures; je travaillais ensuite jusqu'\u00e0 onze heures\nenviron, puis je mangeais ce que je pouvais avoir; de midi \u00e0 deux heures\nje me couchais pour dormir, \u00e0 cause de la chaleur accablante; et dans la\nsoir\u00e9e, je me remettais \u00e0 l'ouvrage. Tout mon temps de travail de ce\njour-l\u00e0 et du suivant fut employ\u00e9 \u00e0 me faire une table; car je n'\u00e9tais\nalors qu'un triste ouvrier; mais bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s le temps et la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9\nfirent de moi un parfait artisan, comme ils l'auraient fait je pense, de\ntout autre.\nLe 5.--Je sortis avec mon fusil et mon chien, et je tuai un chat\nsauvage; sa peau \u00e9tait assez douce, mais sa chair ne valait rien.\nJ'\u00e9corchais chaque animal que je tuais, et j'en conservais la peau. En\nrevenant le long du rivage je vis plusieurs esp\u00e8ces d'oiseaux de mer qui\nm'\u00e9taient inconnus; mais je fus \u00e9tonn\u00e9 et presque effray\u00e9 par deux ou\ntrois veaux marins, qui, tandis que je les fixais du regard, ne sachant\npas trop ce qu'ils \u00e9taient, se culbut\u00e8rent dans l'eau et m'\u00e9chapp\u00e8rent\npour cette fois.\nLe 6.--Apr\u00e8s ma promenade du matin, je me mis \u00e0 travailler de nouveau \u00e0\nma table, et je l'achevai, non pas \u00e0 ma fantaisie; mais il ne se passa\npas long-temps avant que je fusse en \u00e9tat d'en corriger les d\u00e9fauts.\nLe 7.--Le ciel commen\u00e7a \u00e0 se mettre au beau. Les 7, 8, 9, 10, et une\npartie du 12,--le 11 \u00e9tait un dimanche,--je passai tout mon temps \u00e0 me\nfabriquer une chaise, et, avec beaucoup de peine, je l'amenai \u00e0 une\nforme passable; mais elle ne put jamais me plaire, et m\u00eame, en la\nfaisant, je la d\u00e9montai plusieurs fois.\nNota. Je n\u00e9gligeai bient\u00f4t l'observation des dimanches; car ayant omis\nde faire la marque qui les d\u00e9signait sur mon poteau, j'oubliai quand\ntombait ce jour.\nLe 13.--Il fit une pluie qui humecta la terre et me rafra\u00eechit beaucoup;\nmais elle fut accompagn\u00e9e d'un coup de tonnerre et d'un \u00e9clair, qui\nm'effray\u00e8rent horriblement, \u00e0 cause de ma poudre. Aussit\u00f4t qu'ils furent\npass\u00e9s, je r\u00e9solus de s\u00e9parer ma provision de poudre en autant de petits\npaquets que possible, pour la mettre hors de tout danger.\nLes 14, 15 et 16.--Je passai ces trois jours \u00e0 faire des bo\u00eetes ou de\npetites caisses carr\u00e9es, qui pouvaient contenir une livre de poudre ou\ndeux tout au plus; et, les ayant emplies, je les mis aussi en s\u00fbret\u00e9, et\naussi \u00e9loign\u00e9es les unes des autres que possible. L'un de ces trois\njours, je tuai un gros oiseau qui \u00e9tait bon \u00e0 manger; mais je ne sus\nquel nom lui donner.\nLe 17.--Je commen\u00e7ai, en ce jour, \u00e0 creuser le roc derri\u00e8re ma tente,\npour ajouter \u00e0 mes commodit\u00e9s.\nNota. Il me manquait, pour ce travail, trois choses absolument\nn\u00e9cessaires, savoir un pic, une pelle et une brouette ou un panier. Je\ndiscontinuai donc mon travail, et me mis \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur les moyens de\nsuppl\u00e9er \u00e0 ce besoin, et de me faire quelques outils. Je rempla\u00e7ai le\npic par des leviers de fer, qui \u00e9taient assez propres \u00e0 cela, quoique un\npeu lourds; pour la pelle ou b\u00eache, qui \u00e9tait la seconde chose dont\nj'avais besoin, elle m'\u00e9tait d'une si absolue n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, que, sans cela,\nje ne pouvais r\u00e9ellement rien faire. Mais je ne savais par quoi la\nremplacer.\nLe 18.--En cherchant dans les bois, je trouvai un arbre qui \u00e9tait\nsemblable, ou tout au moins ressemblait beaucoup \u00e0 celui qu'au Br\u00e9sil on\nappelle _bois de fer_, \u00e0 cause de son excessive duret\u00e9. J'en coupai une\npi\u00e8ce avec une peine extr\u00eame et en g\u00e2tant presque ma hache; je n'eus pas\nmoins de difficult\u00e9 pour l'amener jusque chez moi, car elle \u00e9tait\nextr\u00eamement lourde.\nLa duret\u00e9 excessive de ce bois, et le manque de moyens d'ex\u00e9cution,\nfirent que je demeurai long-temps \u00e0 fa\u00e7onner cet instrument; ce ne fut\nque petit \u00e0 petit que je pus lui donner la forme d'une pelle ou d'une\nb\u00eache. Son manche \u00e9tait exactement fait comme \u00e0 celles dont on se sert\nen Angleterre; mais sa partie plate n'\u00e9tant pas ferr\u00e9e, elle ne pouvait\npas \u00eatre d'un aussi long usage. N\u00e9anmoins elle remplit assez bien son\noffice dans toutes les occasions que j'eus de m'en servir. Jamais pelle,\nje pense, ne fut faite de cette fa\u00e7on et ne fut si longue \u00e0 fabriquer.\nMais ce n'\u00e9tait pas tout; il me manquait encore un panier ou une\nbrouette. Un panier, il m'\u00e9tait de toute impossibilit\u00e9 d'en faire,\nn'ayant rien de semblable \u00e0 des baguettes ployantes propres \u00e0 tresser de\nla vannerie, du moins je n'en avais point encore d\u00e9couvert. Quant \u00e0 la\nbrouette, je m'imaginai que je pourrais en venir \u00e0 bout, \u00e0 l'exception\nde la roue, dont je n'avais aucune notion, et que je ne savais comment\nentreprendre. D'ailleurs je n'avais rien pour forger le goujon de fer\nqui devait passer dans l'axe ou le moyeu. J'y renon\u00e7ai donc; et, pour\nemporter la terre que je tirais de la grotte, je me fis une machine\nsemblable \u00e0 l'oiseau dans lequel les man\u0153uvres portent le mortier quand\nils servent les ma\u00e7ons.\nLa fa\u00e7on de ce dernier ustensile me pr\u00e9senta moins de difficult\u00e9 que\ncelle de la pelle; n\u00e9anmoins l'une et l'autre, et la malheureuse\ntentative que je fis de construire une brouette, ne me prirent pas moins\nde quatre journ\u00e9es, en exceptant toujours le temps de ma promenade du\nmatin avec mon fusil; je la manquais rarement, et rarement aussi\nmanquais-je d'en rapporter quelque chose \u00e0 manger.\nLe 23.--Mon autre travail ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 interrompu pour la fabrication de\nces outils, d\u00e8s qu'ils furent achev\u00e9s je le repris, et, tout en faisant\nce que le temps et mes forces me permettaient, je passai dix-huit jours\nentiers \u00e0 \u00e9largir et \u00e0 creuser ma grotte, afin qu'elle p\u00fbt loger mes\nmeubles plus commod\u00e9ment.\nLE SAC AUX GRAINS\nDurant tout ce temps je travaillai \u00e0 faire cette chambre ou cette grotte\nassez spacieuse pour me servir d'entrep\u00f4t, de magasin, de cuisine, de\nsalle \u00e0 manger et de cellier. Quant \u00e0 mon logement, je me tenais dans ma\ntente, hormis quelques jours de la saison humide de l'ann\u00e9e, o\u00f9 il\npleuvait si fort que je ne pouvais y \u00eatre \u00e0 l'abri; ce qui m'obligea,\nplus tard, \u00e0 couvrir tout mon enclos de longues perches en forme de\nchevrons, buttant contre le rocher, et \u00e0 les charger de gla\u00efeuls et de\ngrandes feuilles d'arbres, en guise de chaume.\n=D\u00c9CEMBRE=\nLe 10.--Je commen\u00e7ais alors \u00e0 regarder ma grotte ou ma vo\u00fbte comme\ntermin\u00e9e, lorsque tout-\u00e0-coup,--sans doute je l'avais faite trop\nvaste,--une grande quantit\u00e9 de terre \u00e9boula du haut de l'un des c\u00f4t\u00e9s;\nj'en fus, en un mot, tr\u00e8s-\u00e9pouvant\u00e9, et non pas sans raison; car, si je\nm'\u00e9tais trouv\u00e9 dessous, je n'aurais jamais eu besoin d'un fossoyeur.\nPour r\u00e9parer cet accident j'eus \u00e9norm\u00e9ment de besogne; il fallut\nemporter la terre qui s'\u00e9tait d\u00e9tach\u00e9e; et, ce qui \u00e9tait encore plus\nimportant, il fallut \u00e9tan\u00e7onner la vo\u00fbte, afin que je pusse \u00eatre bien\ns\u00fbr qu'il ne s'\u00e9croulerait plus rien.\nLe 11.--Cons\u00e9quemment je travaillai \u00e0 cela, et je pla\u00e7ai deux \u00e9taies ou\npoteaux pos\u00e9s \u00e0 plomb sous le ciel de la grotte, avec deux morceaux de\nplanche mis en croix sur chacun. Je terminai cet ouvrage le lendemain;\npuis, ajoutant encore des \u00e9taies garnies de couches, au bout d'une\nsemaine environ j'eus mon plafond assur\u00e9; et, comme ces poteaux \u00e9taient\nplac\u00e9s en rang, ils me servirent de cloisons pour distribuer mon logis.\nLe 17.--\u00c0 partir de ce jour jusqu'au vingti\u00e8me, je posai des tablettes\net je fichai des clous sur les poteaux pour suspendre tout ce qui\npouvait s'accrocher; je commen\u00e7ai, d\u00e8s lors, \u00e0 avoir mon int\u00e9rieur en\nassez bon ordre.\nLe 20.--Je portai tout mon bataclan dans ma grotte; je me mis \u00e0 meubler\nma maison, et j'assemblai quelques bouts de planche en mani\u00e8re de table\nde cuisine, pour appr\u00eater mes viandes dessus; mais les planches\ncommen\u00e7aient \u00e0 devenir fort rares par-devers moi; aussi ne fis-je plus\naucune autre table.\nLe 24.--Beaucoup de pluie toute la nuit et tout le jour; je ne sortis\npas.\nLe 25.--Pluie toute la journ\u00e9e.\nLe 26.--Point de pluie; la terre \u00e9tait alors plus fra\u00eeche qu'auparavant\net plus agr\u00e9able.\nLe 27.--Je tuai un chevreau et j'en estropiai un autre qu'alors je pus\nattraper et amener en laisse \u00e0 la maison. D\u00e8s que je fus arriv\u00e9 je liai\navec des \u00e9clisses l'une de ses jambes qui \u00e9tait cass\u00e9e.\nNota. J'en pris un tel soin, qu'il surv\u00e9cut, et que sa jambe redevint\naussi forte que jamais; et, comme je le soignai ainsi fort long-temps,\nil s'apprivoisa et paissait sur la pelouse, devant ma porte, sans\nchercher aucunement \u00e0 s'enfuir. Ce fut la premi\u00e8re fois que je con\u00e7us la\npens\u00e9e de nourrir des animaux priv\u00e9s, pour me fournir d'aliments quand\ntoute ma poudre et tout mon plomb seraient consomm\u00e9s.\nLes 28, 29 et 30,--Grandes chaleurs et pas de brise; si bien qu'il ne\nm'\u00e9tait possible de sortir que sur le soir pour chercher ma subsistance.\nJe passai ce temps \u00e0 mettre touts mes effets en ordre dans mon\nhabitation.\n=JANVIER 1660=\nLe 1er.--Chaleur toujours excessive. Je sortis pourtant de grand matin\net sur le tard avec mon fusil, et je me reposai dans le milieu du jour.\nCe soir l\u00e0, m'\u00e9tant avanc\u00e9 dans lesvall\u00e9es situ\u00e9es vers le centre de\nl'\u00eele; j'y d\u00e9couvris une grande quantit\u00e9 de boucs, mais tr\u00e8s-farouches\net tr\u00e8s-difficiles \u00e0 approcher; je r\u00e9solus cependant d'essayer si je ne\npourrais pas dresser mon chien \u00e0 les chasser par-devers moi.\nLe 2.--En cons\u00e9quence, je sortis le lendemain, avec mon chien, et je le\nlan\u00e7ai contre les boucs; mais je fus d\u00e9sappoint\u00e9, car touts lui firent\nface; et, comme il comprit parfaitement le danger, il ne voulut pas m\u00eame\nse risquer pr\u00e8s d'eux.\nLe 3.--Je commen\u00e7ai mon retranchement ou ma muraille; et, comme j'avais\ntoujours quelque crainte d'\u00eatre attaqu\u00e9, je r\u00e9solus de le faire\ntr\u00e8s-\u00e9pais et tr\u00e8s-solide.\nNota. Cette cl\u00f4ture ayant d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9crite, j'omets \u00e0 dessein dans ce\njournal ce que j'en ai dit plus haut. Il suffira de prier d'observer que\nje n'employai pas moins de temps que depuis le 3 janvier jusqu'au\n14 avril pour l'\u00e9tablir, la terminer et la perfectionner, quoiqu'elle\nn'e\u00fbt pas plus de vingt-quatre verges d'\u00e9tendue: elle d\u00e9crivaitun\ndemi-cercle \u00e0 partir d'un point du rocher jusqu'\u00e0 un second point\n\u00e9loign\u00e9 du premier d'environ huit verges, et, dans le fond, juste au\ncentre, se trouvait la porte de ma grotte.\nJe travaillai tr\u00e8s-p\u00e9niblement durant tout cet intervalle, contrari\u00e9 par\nles pluies non-seulement plusieurs jours mais quelquefois plusieurs\nsemaines de suite. Jem'\u00e9tais imagin\u00e9 que je ne saurais \u00eatre parfaitement\n\u00e0 couvert avant que ce rempart f\u00fbt enti\u00e8rement achev\u00e9. Il est aussi\ndifficile de croire que d'exprimer la peine que me co\u00fbta chaque chose,\nsurtout le transport despieux depuis les bois, et leur enfoncement dans\nle sol; car je les avais faits beaucoup plus gros qu'il n'\u00e9tait\nn\u00e9cessaire. Cette palissade termin\u00e9e, et son ext\u00e9rieur \u00e9tant doublement\nd\u00e9fendu par un rev\u00eatement de gazon adoss\u00e9 contre pour la dissimuler, je\nme persuadai que s'il advenait qu'on abord\u00e2t sur cette terre on\nn'appercevrait rien qui ressembl\u00e2t \u00e0 une habitation; et ce fut fort\nheureusement que je la fis ainsi, comme on pourra le voir par la suite\ndans une occasion remarquable.\nChaque jour j'allais chasser et faire ma ronde dans les bois, \u00e0 moins\nque la pluie ne m'en emp\u00each\u00e2t, et dans ces promenades je faisais assez\nsouvent la d\u00e9couverte d'une chose ou d'une autre \u00e0 mon profit. Je\ntrouvais surtout une sorte de pigeons qui ne nichaient point sur les\narbres comme font les ramiers, mais dans des trous de rocher, \u00e0 la\nmani\u00e8re des pigeons domestiques. Je pris quelques-uns de leurs petits\npour essayer \u00e0 les nourrir et \u00e0 les apprivoiser, et j'y r\u00e9ussis. Mais\nquand ils furent plus grands ils s'envol\u00e8rent; le manque de nourriture\nen fut la principale cause, car je n'avais rien \u00e0 leur donner. Quoi\nqu'il en soit, je d\u00e9couvrais fr\u00e9quemment leurs nids, et j'y prenais\nleurs pigeonneaux dont la chair \u00e9tait excellente.\nEn administrant mon m\u00e9nage je m'apper\u00e7us qu'il me manquait beaucoup de\nchoses, que de prime-abord je me crus incapable de fabriquer, ce qui au\nfait se v\u00e9rifia pour quelques-unes: par exemple, je ne pus jamais amener\nune futaille au point d'\u00eatre cercl\u00e9e. J'avais un petit baril ou deux,\ncomme je l'ai not\u00e9 plus haut; mais il fut tout-\u00e0-fait hors de ma port\u00e9e\nd'en faire un sur leur mod\u00e8le, j'employai pourtant plusieurs semaines \u00e0\ncette tentative: je ne sus jamais l'assembler sur ses fonds ni joindre\nassez exactement ses douves pour y faire tenir de l'eau; ainsi je fus\nencore oblig\u00e9 de passer outre.\nEn second lieu, j'\u00e9tais dans une grande p\u00e9nurie de lumi\u00e8re; sit\u00f4t qu'il\nfaisait nuit, ce qui arrivait ordinairement vers sept heures, j'\u00e9tais\nforc\u00e9 de me mettre au lit. Je me ressouvins de la masse de cire vierge\ndont j'avais fait des chandelles pendant mon aventure d'Afrique; mais je\nn'en avais point alors. Mon unique ressource fut donc quand j'eus tu\u00e9\nune ch\u00e8vre d'en conserver la graisse, et avec une petite \u00e9cuelle de\nterre glaise, que j'avais fait cuire au soleil et dans laquelle je mis\nune m\u00e8che d'\u00e9toupe, de me faire une lampe dont la flamme me donna une\nlueur, mais une lueur moins constante et plus sombre que la clart\u00e9 d'un\nflambeau.\nAu milieu de tout mes travaux il m'arriva de trouver, en visitant mes\nbagages, un petit sac qui, ainsi que je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait savoir, avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nempli de grains pour la nourriture de la volaille \u00e0 bord du\nvaisseau,--non pas lors de notre voyage, mais, je le suppose, lors de\nson pr\u00e9c\u00e9dent retour de Lisbonne.--Le peu de grains qui \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 dans\nle sac avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tout d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par les rats, et je n'y voyais plus que de\nla bale et de la poussi\u00e8re; or, ayant besoin de ce sac pour quelque\nautre usage,--c'\u00e9tait, je crois, pour y mettre de la poudre lorsque je\nla partageai de crainte du tonnerre,--j'allai en secouer la bale au pied\ndu rocher, sur un des c\u00f4t\u00e9s de mes fortifications.\nC'\u00e9tait un peu avant les grandes pluies mentionn\u00e9es pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment que je\njetai cette poussi\u00e8re sans y prendre garde, pas m\u00eame assez pour me\nsouvenir que j'avais vid\u00e9 l\u00e0 quelque chose. Quand au bout d'un mois, ou\nenviron, j'apper\u00e7us quelques tiges vertes qui sortaient de terre,\nj'imaginai d'abord que c'\u00e9taient quelques plantes que je ne connaissais\npoint; mais quels furent ma surprise et mon \u00e9tonnement lorsque peu de\ntemps apr\u00e8s je vis environ dix ou douze \u00e9pis d'une orge verte et\nparfaite de la m\u00eame qualit\u00e9 que celle d'Europe, voire m\u00eame que notre\norge d'Angleterre.\nIl serait impossible d'exprimer mon \u00e9bahissement et le trouble de mon\nesprit \u00e0 cette occasion. Jusque l\u00e0 ma conduite ne s'\u00e9tait appuy\u00e9e sur\naucun principe religieux; au fait, j'avais tr\u00e8s-peu de notions\nreligieuses dans la t\u00eate, et dans tout ce qui m'\u00e9tait advenu je n'avais\nvu que l'effet du hasard, ou, comme on dit l\u00e9g\u00e8rement, du bon plaisir de\nDieu; sans m\u00eame chercher, en ce cas, \u00e0 p\u00e9n\u00e9trer les fins de la\nProvidence et son ordre qui r\u00e9git les \u00e9v\u00e9nements de ce monde. Mais apr\u00e8s\nque j'eus vu cro\u00eetre de l'orge dans un climat que je savais n'\u00eatre pas\npropre \u00e0 ce grain, surtout ne sachant pas comment il \u00e9tait venu l\u00e0, je\nfus \u00e9trangement \u00e9merveill\u00e9, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me mettre dans l'esprit\nque Dieu avait miraculeusement fait pousser cette orge sans le concours\nd'aucune semence, uniquement pour me faire subsister dans ce mis\u00e9rable\nd\u00e9sert.\nCela me toucha un peu le c\u0153ur et me fit couler des larmes des yeux, et\nje commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me f\u00e9liciter de ce qu'un tel prodige e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 op\u00e9r\u00e9 en ma\nfaveur; mais le comble de l'\u00e9trange pour moi, ce fut de voir pr\u00e8s des\npremi\u00e8res, tout le long du rocher, quelques tiges \u00e9parpill\u00e9es qui\nsemblaient \u00eatre des tiges de riz, et que je reconnus pour telles parce\nque j'en avais vu cro\u00eetre quand j'\u00e9tais sur les c\u00f4tes d'Afrique.\nNon-seulement je pensai que la Providence m'envoyait ces pr\u00e9sents; mais,\n\u00e9tant persuad\u00e9 que sa lib\u00e9ralit\u00e9 devait s'\u00e9tendre encore plus loin, je\nparcourus de nouveau toute cette portion de l'\u00eele que j'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0\nvisit\u00e9e, cherchant dans touts les coins et au pied de touts les rochers,\ndans l'espoir de d\u00e9couvrir une plus grande quantit\u00e9 de ces plantes; mais\nje n'en trouvai pas d'autres. Enfin, il me revint \u00e0 l'esprit que j'avais\nsecou\u00e9 en cet endroit le sac qui avait contenu la nourriture de la\nvolaille et le miracle commen\u00e7a \u00e0 dispara\u00eetre. Je dois l'avouer, ma\nreligieuse reconnaissance envers la providence de Dieu s'\u00e9vanouit\naussit\u00f4t que j'eus d\u00e9couvert qu'il n'y avait rien que de naturel dans\ncet \u00e9v\u00e9nement. Cependant il \u00e9tait si\u00e9trange et si inopin\u00e9, qu'il ne\nm\u00e9ritait pas moins ma gratitude que s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 miraculeux. En effet,\nn'\u00e9tait-ce pas tout aussi bien l'\u0153uvre de la Providence que s'ils\u00e9taient\ntomb\u00e9s du Ciel, que ces dix ou douze grains fussent rest\u00e9s intacts quand\ntout le reste avait \u00e9t\u00e9 ravag\u00e9 par les rats; et, qu'en outre, je les\neusse jet\u00e9s pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment dans ce lieu abrit\u00e9 par une roche \u00e9lev\u00e9e, o\u00f9 ils\navaient pu germer aussit\u00f4t; tandis qu'en cette saison, partout ailleurs,\nils auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 br\u00fbl\u00e9s par le soleilet d\u00e9truits?\nL'OURAGAN\nComme on peut le croire, je recueillis soigneusement les \u00e9pis de ces\nbl\u00e9s dans leur saison, ce qui fut environ \u00e0 la fin de juin; et, mettant\nen r\u00e9serve jusqu'au moindre grain, je r\u00e9solus de semer tout ce que j'en\navais, dans l'esp\u00e9rance qu'avec le temps j'en r\u00e9colterais assez pour\nfaire du pain. Quatre ann\u00e9es s'\u00e9coul\u00e8rent avant que je pusse me\npermettre d'en manger; encore n'en usai-je qu'avec m\u00e9nagement, comme je\nle dirai plus tard en son lieu: car tout ce que je confiai \u00e0 la terre,\nla premi\u00e8re fois, fut perdu pour avoir mal pris mon temps en le semant\njustement avant la saison s\u00e8che; de sorte qu'il ne poussa pas, ou poussa\ntout au moins fort mal. Nous reviendrons l\u00e0-dessus.\nOutre cette orge, il y avait vingt ou trente tiges de riz, que je\nconservai avec le m\u00eame soin et dans le m\u00eame but, c'est-\u00e0-dire pour me\nfaire du pain ou plut\u00f4t diverses sortes de mets; j'avais trouv\u00e9 le moyen\nde cuire sans four, bien que plus tard j'en aie fait un. Mais retournons\n\u00e0 mon journal.\nJe travaillai tr\u00e8s-assid\u00fbment pendant ces trois mois et demi \u00e0 la\nconstruction de ma muraille. Le 14 avril je la fermai, me r\u00e9servant de\np\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans mon enceinte au moyen d'une \u00e9chelle, et non point d'une\nporte, afin qu'aucun signe ext\u00e9rieur ne p\u00fbt trahir mon habitation.\n=AVRIL=\nLe 16.--Je terminai mon \u00e9chelle, dont je me servais ainsi: d'abord je\nmontais sur le haut de la palissade, puis je l'amenais \u00e0 moi et la\nrepla\u00e7ais en dedans. Ma demeure me parut alors compl\u00e8te; car j'y avais\nassez de place dans l'int\u00e9rieur, et rien ne pouvait venir \u00e0 moi du\ndehors, \u00e0 moins de passer d'abord par-dessus ma muraille.\nJuste le lendemain que cet ouvrage fut achev\u00e9, je faillis \u00e0 voir touts\nmes travaux renvers\u00e9s d'un seul coup, et \u00e0 perdre moi-m\u00eame la vie. Voici\ncomment: j'\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 derri\u00e8re ma tente, \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e de ma grotte,\nlorsque je fus horriblement effray\u00e9 par une chose vraiment affreuse;\ntout-\u00e0-coup la terre s'\u00e9boula de la vo\u00fbte de ma grotte et du flanc de la\nmontagne qui me dominait, et deux des poteaux que j'avais plac\u00e9s dans ma\ngrotte craqu\u00e8rent effroyablement. Je fus remu\u00e9 jusque dans les\nentrailles; mais, ne soup\u00e7onnant pas la cause r\u00e9elle de ce fracas, je\npensai seulement que c'\u00e9tait la vo\u00fbte de ma grotte qui croulait, comme\nelle avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 croul\u00e9 en partie. De peur d'\u00eatre englouti je courus vers\nmon \u00e9chelle, et, ne m'y croyant pas encore en s\u00fbret\u00e9, je passai\npar-dessus ma muraille, pour \u00e9chapper \u00e0 des quartiers de rocher que je\nm'attendais \u00e0 voir fondre sur moi. Sit\u00f4t que j'eus pos\u00e9 le pied hors de\nma palissade, je reconnus qu'il y avait un \u00e9pouvantable tremblement de\nterre. Le sol sur lequel j'\u00e9tais s'\u00e9branla trois fois \u00e0 environ huit\nminutes de distance, et ces trois secousses furent si violentes,\nqu'elles auraient pu renverser l'\u00e9difice le plus solide qui ait jamais\n\u00e9t\u00e9. Un fragment \u00e9norme se d\u00e9tacha de la cime d'un rocher situ\u00e9 proche\nde la mer, \u00e0 environ un demi-mille de moi, et tomba avec un tel bruit\nque, de ma vie, je n'en avais entendu de pareil. L'Oc\u00e9an m\u00eame me parut\nviolemment agit\u00e9. Je pense que les secousses avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 plus fortes\nencore sous les flots que dans l'\u00eele.\nN'ayant jamais rien senti de semblable, ne sachant pas m\u00eame que cela\nexist\u00e2t, je fus tellement atterr\u00e9 que je restai l\u00e0 comme mort ou\nstup\u00e9fi\u00e9, et le mouvement de la terre me donna des naus\u00e9es comme \u00e0\nquelqu'un ballott\u00e9 sur la mer. Mais le bruit de la chute du rocher me\nr\u00e9veilla, m'arracha \u00e0 ma stupeur, et me remplit d'effroi. Mon esprit\nn'entrevit plus alors que l'\u00e9croulement de la montagne sur ma tente et\nl'an\u00e9antissement de touts mes biens; et cette id\u00e9e replongea une seconde\nfois mon \u00e2me dans la torpeur.\nApr\u00e8s que la troisi\u00e8me secousse fut pass\u00e9e et qu'il se fut \u00e9coul\u00e9\nquelque temps sans que j'eusse rien senti de nouveau, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nreprendre courage; pourtant je n'osais pas encore repasser par-dessus ma\nmuraille, de peur d'\u00eatre enterr\u00e9 tout vif: je demeurais immobile, assis\n\u00e0 terre, profond\u00e9ment abattu et d\u00e9sol\u00e9, ne sachant que r\u00e9soudre et que\nfaire. Durant tout ce temps je n'eus pas une seule pens\u00e9e s\u00e9rieuse de\nreligion, si ce n'est cette banale invocation: Seigneur ayez piti\u00e9 de\nmoi, qui cessa en m\u00eame temps que le p\u00e9ril.\nTandis que j'\u00e9tais dans cette situation, je m'apper\u00e7us que le ciel\ns'obscurcissait et se couvrait de nuages comme s'il allait pleuvoir;\nbient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s le vent se leva par degr\u00e9s, et en moins d'une demi-heure\nun terrible ouragan se d\u00e9clara. La mer se couvrit tout-\u00e0-coup d'\u00e9cume,\nles flots inond\u00e8rent le rivage, les arbres se d\u00e9racin\u00e8rent: bref ce fut\nune affreuse temp\u00eate. Elle dura pr\u00e8s de trois heures, ensuite elle alla\nen diminuant; et au bout de deux autres heures tout \u00e9tait rentr\u00e9 dans le\ncalme, et il commen\u00e7a \u00e0 pleuvoir abondamment.\nCependant j'\u00e9tais toujours \u00e9tendu sur la terre, dans la terreur et\nl'affliction, lorsque soudain je fis r\u00e9flexion que ces vents et cette\npluie \u00e9tant la cons\u00e9quence du tremblement de terre, il devait \u00eatre\npass\u00e9, et que je pouvais me hasarder \u00e0 retourner dans ma grotte. Cette\npens\u00e9e ranima mes esprits et, la pluie aidant aussi \u00e0 me persuader,\nj'allai m'asseoir dans ma tente; mais la violence de l'orage mena\u00e7ant de\nla renverser, je fus contraint de me retirer dans ma grotte, quoique j'y\nfusse fort mal \u00e0 l'aise, tremblant qu'elle ne s'\u00e9croul\u00e2t sur ma t\u00eate.\nCette pluie excessive m'obligea un nouveau travail, c'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0\npratiquer une rigole au travers de mes fortifications, pour donner un\n\u00e9coulement aux eaux, qui, sans cela, auraient inond\u00e9 mon habitation.\nApr\u00e8s \u00eatre rest\u00e9 quelque temps dans ma grotte sans \u00e9prouver de nouvelles\nsecousses, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre un peu plus rassur\u00e9; et, pour ranimer mes\nsens, qui avaient grand besoin de l'\u00eatre, j'allai \u00e0 ma petite provision,\net je pris une petite goutte de _rum_;alors, comme toujours, j'en usai\ntr\u00e8s-sobrement, sachant bien qu'une fois bu il ne me serait pas possible\nd'en avoir d'autre.\nIl continua de pleuvoir durant toute la nuit et une grande partie du\nlendemain, ce qui m'emp\u00eacha de sortir. L'esprit plus calme, je me mis \u00e0\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur ce que j'avais de mieux \u00e0 faire. Je conclus que l'\u00eele\n\u00e9tant sujette aux tremblements de terre, je ne devais pas vivre dans une\ncaverne, et qu'il me fallait songer \u00e0 construire une petite hutte dans\nun lieu d\u00e9couvert, que, pour ma s\u00fbret\u00e9, j'entourerais \u00e9galement d'un\nmur; persuad\u00e9 qu'en restant o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, je serais un jour ou l'autre\nenterr\u00e9 tout vif.\nCes pens\u00e9es me d\u00e9termin\u00e8rent \u00e0 \u00e9loigner ma tente de l'endroit qu'elle\noccupait justement au-dessous d'une montagne mena\u00e7ante qui, sans nul\ndoute, l'ensevelirait \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re secousse. Je passai les deux jours\nsuivants, les 19 et 20 avril, \u00e0 chercher o\u00f9 et comment je transporterais\nmon habitation.\nLa crainte d'\u00eatre englouti vivant m'emp\u00eachait de dormir tranquille, et\nla crainte de coucher dehors, sans aucune d\u00e9fense, \u00e9tait presque aussi\ngrande; mais quand, regardant autour de moi, je voyais le bel ordre o\u00f9\nj'avais mis toute chose, et combien j'\u00e9tais agr\u00e9ablement cach\u00e9 et \u00e0\nl'abri de tout danger, j'\u00e9prouvais la plus grande r\u00e9pugnance \u00e0\nd\u00e9m\u00e9nager.\nDans ces entrefaites je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis que l'ex\u00e9cution de ce projet me\ndemanderait beaucoup de temps, et qu'il me fallait, malgr\u00e9 les risques,\nrester o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je me fusse fait un campement, et que\nje l'eusse rendu assez s\u00fbr pour aller m'y fixer. Cette d\u00e9cision me\ntranquillisa pour un temps, et je r\u00e9solus de me mettre \u00e0 l'ouvrage avec\ntoute la diligence possible, pour me b\u00e2tir dans un cercle, comme la\npremi\u00e8re fois, un mur de pieux, de c\u00e2bles, etc., et d'y \u00e9tablir ma tente\nquand il serait fini, mais de rester o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais jusqu'\u00e0 ce que cet\nenclos f\u00fbt termin\u00e9 et pr\u00eat \u00e0 me recevoir. C'\u00e9tait le 21.\nLe 22.--D\u00e8s le matin j'avisai au moyen de r\u00e9aliser mon dessein, mais\nj'\u00e9tais d\u00e9pourvu d'outils. J'avais trois grandes haches et une grande\nquantit\u00e9 de hachettes,--car nous avions emport\u00e9 des hachettes pour\ntrafiquer avec les Indiens;--mais \u00e0 force d'avoir coup\u00e9 et taill\u00e9 des\nbois durs et noueux, elles \u00e9taient toutes \u00e9mouss\u00e9es et \u00e9br\u00e9ch\u00e9es. Je\nposs\u00e9dais bien une pierre \u00e0 aiguiser, mais je ne pouvais la faire\ntourner en m\u00eame temps que je repassais. Cette difficult\u00e9 me co\u00fbta autant\nde r\u00e9flexions qu'un homme d'\u00e9tat pourrait en d\u00e9penser sur un grand point\nde politique, ou un juge sur une question de vie ou de mort. Enfin\nj'imaginai une roue \u00e0 laquelle j'attachai un cordon, pour la mettre en\nmouvement au moyen de mon pied tout en conservant mes deux mains libres.\nNota. Je n'avais jamais vu ce proc\u00e9d\u00e9 m\u00e9canique en Angleterre, ou du\nmoins je ne l'avais point remarqu\u00e9, quoique j'aie observ\u00e9 depuis qu'il y\nest tr\u00e8s-commun; en outre, cette pierre \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s-grande et\ntr\u00e8s-lourde, et je passai une semaine enti\u00e8re \u00e0 amener cette machine \u00e0\nperfection.\nLes 28 et 29.--J'employai ces deux jours \u00e0 aiguiser mes outils, le\nproc\u00e9d\u00e9 pour faire tourner ma pierre allant tr\u00e8s-bien.\nLe 30.--M'\u00e9tant apper\u00e7u depuis long-temps que ma provision de biscuits\ndiminuait, j'en fis la revue et je me r\u00e9duisis \u00e0 un biscuit par jour, ce\nqui me rendit le c\u0153ur tr\u00e8s-chagrin.\n=MAI=\nLe 1er.--Le matin, en regardant du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la mer, \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e basse,\nj'apper\u00e7us par extraordinaire sur le rivage quelque chose de gros qui\nressemblait assez \u00e0 un tonneau; quand je m'en fus approch\u00e9, je vis que\nc'\u00e9tait un baril et quelques d\u00e9bris du vaisseau qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9s\nsur le rivage par le dernier ouragan. Portant alors mes regards vers la\ncarcasse du vaisseau, il me sembla qu'elle sortait au-dessus de l'eau\nplus que de coutume. J'examinai le baril qui \u00e9tait sur la gr\u00e8ve, je\nreconnus qu'il contenait de la poudre \u00e0 canon, mais qu'il avait pris\nl'eau et que cette poudre ne formait plus qu'une masse aussi dure qu'une\npierre. N\u00e9anmoins, provisoirement, je le roulai plus loin sur le rivage,\net je m'avan\u00e7ai sur le sable le plus pr\u00e8s possible de la coque du\nnavire, afin de mieux la voir.\nQuand je fus descendu tout proche, je trouvai sa position \u00e9tonnamment\nchang\u00e9e. Le ch\u00e2teau de proue, qui d'abord \u00e9tait enfonc\u00e9 dans le sable,\n\u00e9tait alors \u00e9lev\u00e9 de six pieds au moins, et la poupe, que la violence de\nla mer avait bris\u00e9e et s\u00e9par\u00e9e du reste peu de temps apr\u00e8s que j'y eus\nfait mes derni\u00e8res recherches, avait lanc\u00e9e, pour ainsi dire, et jet\u00e9e\nsur le c\u00f4t\u00e9. Le sable s'\u00e9tait tellement amoncel\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de l'arri\u00e8re, que\nl\u00e0 o\u00f9 auparavant une grande \u00e9tendue d'eau m'emp\u00eachait d'approcher \u00e0 plus\nd'un quart de mille sans me mettre \u00e0 la nage, je pouvais marcher\njusqu'au vaisseau quand la mar\u00e9e \u00e9tait basse. Je fus d'abord surpris de\ncela, mais bient\u00f4t je conclus que le tremblement de terre devait en \u00eatre\nla cause; et, comme il avait augment\u00e9 le bris du vaisseau, chaque jour\nil venait au rivage quantit\u00e9 de choses que la mer avait d\u00e9tach\u00e9es, et\nque les vents et les flots roulaient par degr\u00e9s jusqu'\u00e0 terre.\nCeci vint me distraire totalement de mon dessein de changer\nd'habitation, et ma principale affaire, ce jour-l\u00e0, fut de chercher \u00e0\np\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans le vaisseau: mais je vis que c'\u00e9tait une chose que je ne\ndevais point esp\u00e9rer, car son int\u00e9rieur \u00e9tait encombr\u00e9 de sable.\nN\u00e9anmoins, comme j'avais appris \u00e0 ne d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer de rien, je r\u00e9solus d'en\narracher par morceaux ce que je pourrais, persuad\u00e9 que tout ce que j'en\ntirerais me serait de quelque utilit\u00e9.\nLE SONGE\nLe 3.--Je commen\u00e7ai par scier un bau qui maintenait la partie sup\u00e9rieure\nproche le gaillard d'arri\u00e8re, et, quand je l'eus coup\u00e9, j'\u00f4tai tout ce\nque je pus du sable qui embarrassait la portion la plus \u00e9lev\u00e9e; mais, la\nmar\u00e9e venait \u00e0 monter, je fus oblig\u00e9 de m'en tenir l\u00e0 pour cette fois.\nLe 4.--J'allai \u00e0 la p\u00eache, mais je ne pris aucun poisson que j'osasse\nmanger; ennuy\u00e9 de ce passe-temps, j'\u00e9tais sur le point de me retirer\nquand j'attrapai un petit dauphin. Je m'\u00e9tais fait une grande ligne avec\ndu fil de caret, mais je n'avais point d'hame\u00e7ons; n\u00e9anmoins je prenais\nassez de poisson et tout autant que je m'en souciais. Je l'exposais au\nsoleil et je le mangeais sec.\nLe 5.--Je travaillai sur la carcasse; je coupai un second bau, et je\ntirai des ponts trois grandes planches de sapin; je les liai ensemble,\net les fis flotter vers le rivage quand vint le flot de la mar\u00e9e.\nLe 6.--Je travaillai sur la carcasse; j'en arrachai quantit\u00e9 de\nchevilles et autres ferrures; ce fut une rude besogne. Je rentrai chez\nmoi tr\u00e8s-fatigu\u00e9, et j'eus envie de renoncer \u00e0 ce sauvetage.\nLe 7.--Je retournai \u00e0 la carcasse, mais non dans l'intention d'y\ntravailler; je trouvai que par son propre poids elle s'\u00e9tait affaiss\u00e9e\ndepuis que les baux \u00e9taient sci\u00e9s, et que plusieurs pi\u00e8ces du b\u00e2timent\nsemblaient se d\u00e9tacher. Le fond de la cale \u00e9tait tellement entr'ouvert,\nque je pouvais voir dedans: elle \u00e9tait presque emplie de sable et d'eau.\nLe 8.--J'allai \u00e0 la carcasse, etje portai avec moi une pince pour\nd\u00e9manteler le pont, qui pour lors \u00e9tait enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9barrass\u00e9 d'eau et\nde sable; j'enfon\u00e7ai deux planches que j'amenai aussi \u00e0 terre avec la\nmar\u00e9e. Je laissai l\u00e0 ma pince pour le lendemain.\nLe 9.--J'allai \u00e0 la carcasse, et avec mon levier je pratiquai une\nouverture dans la coque du b\u00e2timent; je sentis plusieurs tonneaux, que\nj'\u00e9branlai avec la pince sans pouvoir les d\u00e9foncer. Je sentis \u00e9galement\nle rouleau de plomb d'Angleterre; je le remuai, mais il \u00e9tait trop lourd\npour que je pusse le transporter.\nLes 10, 11, 12, 13 et 14.--J'allai chaque jour \u00e0 la carcasse, et j'en\ntirai beaucoup de pi\u00e8ces de charpente, des bordages, des planches et\ndeux ou trois cents livres de fer.\nLe 15.--Je portai deux haches, pour essayer si je ne pourrais point\ncouper un morceau du rouleau de plomb en y appliquant le taillant de\nl'une, que j'enfoncerais avec l'autre; mais, comme il \u00e9tait recouvert\nd'un pied et demi d'eau environ, je ne pus frapper aucun coup qui\nport\u00e2t.\nLe 16.--Il avait fait un grand vent durant la nuit, la carcasse\nparaissait avoir beaucoup souffert de la violence des eaux; mais je\nrestai si long-temps dans les bois \u00e0 attraper des pigeons pour ma\nnourriture que la mar\u00e9e m'emp\u00eacha d'aller au b\u00e2timent ce jour-l\u00e0.\nLe 17.--J'apper\u00e7us quelques morceaux des d\u00e9bris jet\u00e9s sur le rivage, \u00e0\ndeux milles de moi environ; je m'assurai de ce que ce pouvait \u00eatre, et\nje trouvai que c'\u00e9tait une pi\u00e8ce de l'\u00e9peron, trop pesante pour que je\nl'emportasse.\nLe 24.--Chaque jour jusqu'\u00e0 celui-ci je travaillai sur la carcasse, et\nj'en \u00e9branlai si fortement plusieurs parties \u00e0 l'aide de ma pince, qu'\u00e0\nla premi\u00e8re grande mar\u00e9e flott\u00e8rent plusieurs futailles et deux coffres\nde matelot; mais, comme le vent soufflait de la c\u00f4te, rien ne vint \u00e0\nterre ce jour-l\u00e0, si ce n'est quelques membrures et une barrique pleine\nde porc du Br\u00e9sil que l'eau et le sable avaient g\u00e2t\u00e9.\nJe continuai ce travail jusqu'au 15 juin, en exceptant le temps\nn\u00e9cessaire pour me procurer desaliments, que je fixai toujours, durant\ncette occupation, \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e haute, afin que je pusse \u00eatre pr\u00eat pour le\njusant. Alors j'avais assez amass\u00e9 de charpentes, de planches et de\nferrures pour construire un bon bateau si j'eusse su comment. Je parvins\naussi \u00e0 recueillir, en diff\u00e9rentes fois et en diff\u00e9rents morceaux, pr\u00e8s\nde cent livres de plomb lamin\u00e9.\n=JUIN=\nLe 16.--En descendant sur le rivage je trouvai un grand ch\u00e9lone ou\ntortue de mer, le premier que je vis. C'\u00e9tait assur\u00e9ment pure mauvaise\nchance, car ils n'\u00e9taient pas rares sur cette terre; et s'il m'\u00e9tait\narriv\u00e9 d'\u00eatre sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 oppos\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, j'aurais pu en avoir par\ncentaines touts les jours, comme je le fis plus tard; mais peut-\u00eatre les\naurais-je pay\u00e9s assez cher.\nLe 17.--J'employai ce jour \u00e0 faire cuire ma tortue: je trouvai dedans\nsoixante \u0153ufs, et sa chair me parut la plus agr\u00e9able et la plus\nsavoureuse que j'eusse go\u00fbt\u00e9e de ma vie, n'ayant eu d'autre viande que\ncelle de ch\u00e8vre ou d'oiseau depuis que j'avais abord\u00e9 \u00e0 cet horrible\ns\u00e9jour.\nLe 18.--Il plut toute la journ\u00e9e, et je ne sortis pas. La pluie me\nsemblait froide, j'\u00e9tais transi, chose extraordinaire dans cette\nlatitude.\nLe 19.--J'\u00e9tais fort mal, et je grelottais comme si le temps e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\nfroid.\nLe 20.--Je n'eus pas de repos de toute la nuit, mais la fi\u00e8vre et de\nviolentes douleurs dans la t\u00eate.\nLe 21.--Je fus tr\u00e8s-mal, et effray\u00e9 presque \u00e0 la mort par l'appr\u00e9hension\nd'\u00eatre en ma triste situation, malade et sans secours. Je priai Dieu\npour la premi\u00e8re fois depuis la tourmente essuy\u00e9e au large de Hull; mais\nje savais \u00e0 peine ce que je disais ou pourquoi je le disais: toutes mes\npens\u00e9es \u00e9taient confuses.\nLe 22.--J'\u00e9tais un peu mieux, mais dans l'affreuse transe de faire une\nmaladie.\nLe 23.--Je fus derechef fort mal; j'\u00e9tais glac\u00e9 et frissonnant et\nj'avais une violente migraine.\nLe 24.--Beaucoup de mieux.\nLe 25.--Fi\u00e8vre violente; l'acc\u00e8s, qui me dura sept heures, \u00e9tait\nalternativement froid et chaud et accompagn\u00e9 de sueurs affaiblissantes.\nLe 26.--Il y eut du mieux; et, comme je n'avais point de vivres, je pris\nmon fusil, mais je me sentis tr\u00e8s-faible. Cependant je tuai une ch\u00e8vre,\nque je tra\u00eenai jusque chez moi avec beaucoup de difficult\u00e9; j'en grillai\nquelques morceaux, que je mangeai. J'aurais d\u00e9sir\u00e9 les faire bouillir\npour avoir du consomm\u00e9, mais je n'avais point de pot.\nLe 27.--La fi\u00e8vre redevint si aigu\u00eb, que je restai au lit tout le jour,\nsans boire ni manger. Je mourais de soif, mais j'\u00e9tais si affaibli que\nje n'eus pas la force de me lever pour aller chercher de l'eau.\nJ'invoquai Dieu de nouveau, mais j'\u00e9tais dans le d\u00e9lire; et quand il fut\npass\u00e9, j'\u00e9tais si ignorant que je ne savais que dire; seulement j'\u00e9tais\n\u00e9tendu et je criais:--Seigneur, jette un regard sur moi! Seigneur, aie\npiti\u00e9 de moi! Seigneur fais moi mis\u00e9ricorde! Je suppose que je ne fis\nrien autre chose pendant deux ou trois heures, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que, l'acc\u00e8s\nayant cess\u00e9, je m'endormis pour ne me r\u00e9veiller que fort avant dans la\nnuit. \u00c0 mon r\u00e9veil, je me sentis soulag\u00e9, mais faible et excessivement\nalt\u00e9r\u00e9. N\u00e9anmoins, comme je n'avais point d'eau dans toute mon\nhabitation, je fus forc\u00e9 de rester couch\u00e9 jusqu'au matin, et je me\nrendormis. Dans ce second sommeil j'eus ce terrible songe:\nIl me semblait que j'\u00e9tais \u00e9tendu sur la terre, en dehors de ma\nmuraille, \u00e0 la place o\u00f9 je me trouvais quand apr\u00e8s le tremblement de\nterre \u00e9clata l'ouragan, et que je voyais un homme qui, d'une nu\u00e9e\n\u00e9paisse et noire, descendait \u00e0 terre au milieu d'un tourbillon \u00e9clatant\nde lumi\u00e8re et de feu. Il \u00e9tait de pied en cap resplendissant comme une\nflamme, tellement que je ne pouvais le fixer du regard. Sa contenance\n\u00e9tait vraiment effroyable: la d\u00e9peindre par des mots serait impossible.\nQuand il posa le pied sur le sol la terre me parut s'\u00e9branler, juste\ncomme elle avait fait lors du tremblement, et tout l'air sembla, en mon\nimagination, sillonn\u00e9 de traits de feu.\n\u00c0 peine \u00e9tait-il descendu sur la terre qu'il s'avan\u00e7a pour me tuer avec\nune longue pique qu'il tenait \u00e0 la main; et, quand il fut parvenu vers\nune \u00e9minence peu \u00e9loign\u00e9e, il me parla, et j'ou\u00efs une voix si terrible\nqu'il me serait impossible d'exprimer la terreur qui s'empara de moi;\ntout ce que je puis dire, c'est que j'entendis ceci:--\u00abPuisque toutes\nces choses ne t'ont point port\u00e9 au repentir, tu mourras!\u00bb--\u00c0 ces mots il\nme sembla qu'il levait sa lance pour me tuer.\nQue nul de ceux qui liront jamais cette relation ne s'attende \u00e0 ce que\nje puisse d\u00e9peindre les angoisses de mon \u00e2me lors de cette terrible\nvision, qui me fit souffrir m\u00eame durant mon r\u00eave; et il ne me serait pas\nplus possible de rendre impression qui resta grav\u00e9e dans mon esprit\napr\u00e8s mon r\u00e9veil, apr\u00e8s que j'eus reconnu que ce n'\u00e9tait qu'un songe.\nJ'avais, h\u00e9las! perdu toute connaissance de Dieu; ce que je devais aux\nbonnes instructions de mon p\u00e8re avait \u00e9t\u00e9 effac\u00e9 par huit ann\u00e9es\nsuccessives de cette vie licencieuse que m\u00e8nent les gens de mer, et par\nla constante et seule fr\u00e9quentation de tout ce qui \u00e9tait, comme moi,\npervers et libertin au plus haut degr\u00e9. Je ne me souviens pas d'avoir eu\npendant tout ce temps une seule pens\u00e9e qui tendit \u00e0 m'\u00e9lever \u00e0 Dieu ou \u00e0\nme faire descendre en moi-m\u00eame pour r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur ma conduite.\nSans d\u00e9sir du bien, sans conscience du mal, j'\u00e9tais plong\u00e9 dans une\nsorte de stupidit\u00e9 d'\u00e2me. Je valais tout au juste ce qu'on pourrait\nsupposer valoir le plus endurci, le plus insouciant, le plus impie\nd'entre touts nos marins, n'ayant pas le moindre sentiment, ni de\ncrainte de Dieu dans les dangers, ni de gratitude apr\u00e8s la d\u00e9livrance.\nEn se rem\u00e9morant la portion d\u00e9j\u00e0 pass\u00e9e de mon histoire, on r\u00e9pugnera\nmoins \u00e0 me croire, lorsque j'ajouterai qu'\u00e0 travers la foule de mis\u00e8res\nqui jusqu'\u00e0 ce jour m'\u00e9taient advenues je n'avais pas en une seule fois\nla pens\u00e9e que c'\u00e9tait la main de Dieu qui me frappait, que c'\u00e9tait un\njuste ch\u00e2timent pour ma faute, pour ma conduite rebelle \u00e0 mon p\u00e8re, pour\nl'\u00e9normit\u00e9 de mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s pr\u00e9sents, ou pour le cours g\u00e9n\u00e9ral de ma\ncoupable vie. Lors de mon exp\u00e9dition d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e sur la c\u00f4te d'Afrique,\nje n'avais jamais song\u00e9 \u00e0 ce qu'il adviendrait de moi, ni souhait\u00e9 que\nDieu me dirige\u00e2t dans ma course, ni qu'il me gard\u00e2t des dangers qui\nvraisemblablement m'environnaient, soit de la voracit\u00e9 des b\u00eates, soit\nde la cruaut\u00e9 des Sauvages. Je ne prenais aucun souci de Dieu ou de la\nProvidence j'ob\u00e9issais purement, comme la brute, aux mouvements de ma\nnature, et c'\u00e9tait tout au plus si je suivais les principes du sens\ncommun.\nQuand je fus d\u00e9livr\u00e9 et recueilli en mer par le capitaine portugais, qui\nen usa si bien avec moi et me traita avec tant d'\u00e9quit\u00e9 et de\nbienveillance, je n'eus pas le moindre sentiment de gratitude. Apr\u00e8s mon\nsecond naufrage, apr\u00e8s que j'eus \u00e9t\u00e9 ruin\u00e9 et en danger de p\u00e9rir \u00e0\nl'abord de cette \u00eele, bien loin d'avoir quelques remords et de regarder\nceci comme un ch\u00e2timent du Ciel, seulement je me disais souvent que\nj'\u00e9tais un malheureux chien, n\u00e9 pour \u00eatre toujours mis\u00e9rable.\nLA SAINTE BIBLE\nIl est vrai qu'aussit\u00f4t que j'eus pris terre et que j'eus vu que tout\nl'\u00e9quipage \u00e9tait noy\u00e9 et moi seul \u00e9pargn\u00e9, je tombai dans une sorte\nd'extase et de ravissement d'\u00e2me qui, f\u00e9cond\u00e9s de la gr\u00e2ce de Dieu,\nauraient pu aboutir \u00e0 une sinc\u00e8re reconnaissance; mais cet \u00e9lancement\npassa comme un \u00e9clair, et se termina en un commun mouvement de joie de\nse retrouver en vie[22], sans la moindre r\u00e9flexion sur la bont\u00e9\nsignal\u00e9e de la main qui m'avait pr\u00e9serv\u00e9, qui m'avait mis \u00e0 part pour\n\u00eatre pr\u00e9serv\u00e9, tandis que tout le reste avait p\u00e9ri; je ne me demandai\npas m\u00eame pourquoi la Providence avait eu ainsi piti\u00e9 de moi. Ce fut une\njoie toute semblable \u00e0 celle qu'\u00e9prouvent commun\u00e9ment les marins qui\nabordent \u00e0 terre apr\u00e8s un naufrage, dont ils noient le souvenir dans un\n_bowl_ de _punch,_ et qu'ils oublient presque aussit\u00f4t qu'il\nestpass\u00e9.--Et tout lecours de ma vie avait \u00e9t\u00e9 comme cela!\nM\u00eame, lorsque dans la suite des consid\u00e9rations oblig\u00e9es m'eurent fait\nconna\u00eetre ma situation, et en quel horrible lieu j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9 hors\nde toute soci\u00e9t\u00e9 humaine, sans aucune esp\u00e9rance de secours, et sans\naucun espoir de d\u00e9livrance, aussit\u00f4t que j'entrevis la possibilit\u00e9 de\nvivre et que je ne devais point p\u00e9rir de faim tout le sentiment de mon\naffliction s'\u00e9vanouit; je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre fort aise: je me mis \u00e0\ntravailler \u00e0 ma conservation et \u00e0 ma subsistance, bien \u00e9loign\u00e9 de\nm'affliger de ma position comme d'un jugement du Ciel, et de penser que\nle bras de Dieu s'\u00e9tait appesanti sur moi. De semblables pens\u00e9es\nn'avaient pas accoutum\u00e9 de me venir \u00e0 l'esprit.\nLa croissance du bl\u00e9, dont j'ai fait mention dans mon journal, eut\npremi\u00e8rement une petite influence sur moi; elle me toucha assez\nfortement aussi long-temps que j'y crus voir quelque chose de\nmiraculeux; mais d\u00e8s que cette id\u00e9e tomba, l'impression que j'en avais\nre\u00e7ue tomba avec elle, ainsi que je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit.\nIl en fut de m\u00eame du tremblement de terre, quoique rien en soi ne\nsaurait \u00eatre plus terrible, ni conduire plus imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 l'id\u00e9e de\nla puissance invisible qui seule gouverne de si grandes choses;\nn\u00e9anmoins, \u00e0 peine la premi\u00e8re frayeur pass\u00e9e, l'impression qu'il avait\nfaite sur moi s'en alla aussi: je n'avais pas plus le sentiment de Dieu\nou de ses jugements et que ma pr\u00e9sente affliction \u00e9tait l'\u0153uvre de ses\nmains, que si j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans l'\u00e9tat le plus prosp\u00e8re de la vie.\nMais quand je tombai malade et que l'image des mis\u00e8res de la mort vint\npeu \u00e0 peu se placer devant moi, quand mes esprits commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0\ns'affaisser sous le poids d'un mal violent et que mon corps fut \u00e9puis\u00e9\npar l'ardeur de la fi\u00e8vre, ma conscience, si long-temps endormie, se\nr\u00e9veilla; je me reprochai ma vie pass\u00e9e, dont l'insigne perversit\u00e9 avait\nprovoqu\u00e9 la justice de Dieu \u00e0 m'infliger des ch\u00e2timents inou\u00efs et \u00e0 me\ntraiter d'une fa\u00e7on si cruelle.\nCes r\u00e9flexions m'oppress\u00e8rent d\u00e8s le deuxi\u00e8me ou le troisi\u00e8me jour de\nmon indisposition, et dans la violence de la fi\u00e8vre et des \u00e2pres\nreproches de ma conscience, elles m'arrach\u00e8rent quelques paroles qui\nressemblaient \u00e0 une pri\u00e8re adress\u00e9e \u00e0 Dieu. Je ne puis dire cependant\nque ce fut une pri\u00e8re faite avec ferveur et confiance, ce fut plut\u00f4t un\ncri de frayeur et de d\u00e9tresse. Le d\u00e9sordre de mes esprits, mes remords\ncuisants, l'horreur de mourir dans un si d\u00e9plorable \u00e9tat et de\npoignantes appr\u00e9hensions, me faisaient monter des vapeurs au cerveau,\net, dans ce trouble de mon \u00e2me, je ne savais ce que ma langue\narticulait; ce dut \u00eatre toutefois quelque exclamation comme\ncelle-ci:--\u00abSeigneur! Quelle mis\u00e9rable cr\u00e9ature je suis! Si je viens \u00e0\n\u00eatre malade, assur\u00e9ment je mourrai faute de secours! Seigneur que\ndeviendrai-je!\u00bb--Alors des larmes coul\u00e8rent en abondance de mes yeux, et\nil se passa un long temps avant que je pusse en prof\u00e9rer davantage.\nDans cet intervalle me revinrent \u00e0 l'esprit les bons avis de mon p\u00e8re,\net sa pr\u00e9diction, dont j'ai parl\u00e9 au commencement de cette histoire, que\nsi je faisais ce coup de t\u00eate Dieu ne me b\u00e9nirait point, et que j'aurais\ndans la suite tout le loisir de r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur le m\u00e9pris que j'aurais\nfait de ses conseils lorsqu'il n'y aurait personne qui p\u00fbt me pr\u00eater\nassistance.--\u00abMaintenant, dis-je \u00e0 haute voix, les paroles de mon cher\np\u00e8re sont accomplies, la justice de Dieu m'a atteint, et je n'ai\npersonne pour me secourir ou m'entendre. J'ai m\u00e9connu la voix de la\nProvidence, qui m'avait g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement plac\u00e9 dans un \u00e9tat et dans un rang\no\u00f9 j'aurais pu vivre dans l'aisance et dans le bonheur; mais je n'ai\npoint voulu concevoir cela, ni apprendre de mes parents \u00e0 conna\u00eetre les\nbiens attach\u00e9s \u00e0 cette condition. Je les ai d\u00e9laiss\u00e9s pleurant sur ma\nfolie; et maintenant, abandonn\u00e9, je pleure sur les cons\u00e9quences de cette\nfolie. J'ai refus\u00e9 leur aide et leur appui, qui auraient pu me produire\ndans le monde et m'y rendre toute chose facile; maintenant j'ai des\ndifficult\u00e9s \u00e0 combattre contre lesquelles la nature m\u00eame ne pr\u00e9vaudrait\npas, et je n'ai ni assistance, ni aide, ni conseil, ni r\u00e9confort.\u00bb--Et\nje m'\u00e9criai alors:--\u00abSeigneur viens \u00e0 mon aide, car je suis dans une\ngrande d\u00e9tresse!\u00bb\nCe fut la premi\u00e8re pri\u00e8re, si je puis l'appeler ainsi, que j'eusse faite\ndepuis plusieurs ann\u00e9es. Mais je retourne \u00e0 mon journal.\nLe 28.--Un tant soit peu soulag\u00e9 par le repos que j'avais pris, et mon\nacc\u00e8s \u00e9tant tout-\u00e0-fait pass\u00e9, je me levai. Quoique je fusse encore\nplein de l'effroi et de la terreur de mon r\u00eave; je fis r\u00e9flexion\ncependant que l'acc\u00e8s de fi\u00e8vre reviendrait le jour suivant, et qu'il\nfallait en ce moment me procurer de quoi me rafra\u00eechir et me soutenir\nquand je serais malade. La premi\u00e8re chose que je fis, ce fut de mettre\nde l'eau dans une grande bouteille carr\u00e9e et de la placer sur ma table,\n\u00e0 port\u00e9e de mon lit; puis, pour enlever la crudit\u00e9 et la qualit\u00e9\nfi\u00e9vreuse de l'eau, j'y versai et m\u00ealai environ un quart de pinte de\n_rum._ J'aveins alors un morceau de viande de bouc, je le fis griller\nsur des charbons, mais je n'en pus manger que fort peu. Je sortis pour\nme promener; mais j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s-faible et tr\u00e8s-m\u00e9lancolique, j'avais le\nc\u0153ur navr\u00e9 de ma mis\u00e9rable condition et j'appr\u00e9hendais le retour de mon\nmal pour le lendemain. \u00c0 la nuit je fis mon souper de trois \u0153ufs de\ntortue, que je fis cuire sous la cendre, et que je mangeai \u00e0 la coque,\ncomme on dit. Ce fut l\u00e0, autant que je puis m'en souvenir, le premier\nmorceau pour lequel je demandai la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu depuis qu'il\nm'avait donn\u00e9 la vie.\nApr\u00e8s avoir mang\u00e9, j'essayai de me promener; mais je me trouvai si\naffaibli que je pouvais \u00e0 peine porter mon mousquet,--car je ne sortais\njamais sans lui.--Aussi je n'allai pas loin, et je m'assis \u00e0 terre,\ncontemplant la mer qui s'\u00e9tendait devant moi calme et douce. Tandis que\nj'\u00e9tais assis l\u00e0 il me vint \u00e0 l'esprit ces pens\u00e9es:\n\u00abQu'est-ce que la terre et la mer dont j'ai vu tant de r\u00e9gions? d'o\u00f9\ncela a-t-il \u00e9t\u00e9 produit? que suis-je moi m\u00eame? que sont toutes les\ncr\u00e9atures, sauvages ou polic\u00e9es, humaines ou brutes? d'o\u00f9 sortons-nous?\n\u00abS\u00fbrement nous avons touts \u00e9t\u00e9 faits par quelque secr\u00e8te puissance, qui\na form\u00e9 la terre et l'oc\u00e9an, l'air et les cieux, mais quelle est-elle?\u00bb\nJ'inf\u00e9rai donc naturellement de ces propositions que c'est Dieu qui a\ncr\u00e9\u00e9 tout cela.--\u00abBien! Mais si Dieu a fait toutes ces choses, il les\nguide et les gouverne toutes, ainsi que tout ce qui les concerne; car\nl'\u00catre qui a pu engendrer toutes ces choses doit certainement avoir la\npuissance de les conduire et de les diriger.\n\u00abS'il en est ainsi, rien ne peut arriver dans le grand d\u00e9partement de\nces \u0153uvres sans sa connaissance ou sans son ordre.\n\u00abEt si rien ne peut arriver sans qu'il le sache, il sait que je suis ici\ndans une affreuse condition, et si rien n'arrive sans son ordre, il a\nordonn\u00e9 que tout ceci m'adv\u00eent.\u00bb\nIl ne se pr\u00e9senta rien \u00e0 mon esprit qui p\u00fbt combattre une seule de ces\nconclusions; c'est pourquoi je demeurai convaincu que Dieu avait ordonn\u00e9\ntout ce qui m'\u00e9tait survenu, et que c'\u00e9tait par sa volont\u00e9 que j'avais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9 \u00e0 cette affreuse situation, Dieu seul \u00e9tant le ma\u00eetre\nnon-seulement de mon sort, mais de toutes choses qui se passent dans le\nmonde; et il s'ensuivit imm\u00e9diatement cette r\u00e9flexion:\n\u00abPourquoi Dieu a-t-il agi ainsi envers moi? Qu'ai-je fait pour \u00eatre\nainsi trait\u00e9?\u00bb\nAlors ma conscience me retint court devant cet examen, comme si j'avais\nblasph\u00e9m\u00e9, et il me sembla qu'une voix me criait:--\u00abMalheureux! tu\ndemandes ce que tu as fait? Jette un regard en arri\u00e8re sur ta vie\ncoupable et dissip\u00e9e, et demande-toi ce que tu n'as pas fait! Demande\npourquoi tu n'as pas \u00e9t\u00e9 an\u00e9anti il y a long-temps? pourquoi tu n'as pas\n\u00e9t\u00e9 noy\u00e9 dans la rade d'Yarmouth? pourquoi tu n'as pas \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9 dans le\ncombat lorsque le corsaire de Sall\u00e9 captura le vaisseau? pourquoi tu\nn'as pas \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par les b\u00eates f\u00e9roces de la c\u00f4te d'Afrique, ou\nenglouti _l\u00e0_, quand tout l'\u00e9quipage p\u00e9rit except\u00e9 toi? Et apr\u00e8s cela te\nrediras-tu: Qu'ai-je donc fait?\nCes r\u00e9flexions me stup\u00e9fi\u00e8rent; je ne trouvai pas un mot \u00e0 dire, pas un\nmot \u00e0 me r\u00e9pondre. Triste et pensif, je me relevai, je rebroussai vers\nma retraite, et je passai par-dessus ma muraille, comme pour aller me\ncoucher; mais mon esprit \u00e9tait p\u00e9niblement agit\u00e9, je n'avais nulle envie\nde dormir. Je m'assis sur une chaise, et j'allumai ma lampe, car il\ncommen\u00e7ait \u00e0 faire nuit. Comme j'\u00e9tais alors fortement pr\u00e9occup\u00e9 du\nretour de mon indisposition, il me revint en la pens\u00e9e que les\nBr\u00e9siliens, dans toutes leurs maladies, ne prennent d'autres rem\u00e8des que\nleur tabac, et que dans un de mes coffres j'en avais un bout de rouleau\ntout-\u00e0-fait pr\u00e9par\u00e9, et quelque peu de vert non compl\u00e8tement tri\u00e9.\nJ'allai \u00e0 ce coffre, conduit par le Ciel sans doute, car j'y trouvai\ntout \u00e0 la fois la gu\u00e9rison de mon corps et de mon \u00e2me. Je l'ouvris et\nj'y trouvai ce que je cherchais, le tabac; et, comme le peu de livres\nque j'avais sauv\u00e9s y \u00e9taient aussi renferm\u00e9s, j'en tirai une des Bibles\ndont j'ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, et que jusque alors je n'avais pas ouvertes,\nsoit faute de loisir, soit par indiff\u00e9rence. J'aveins donc une Bible, et\nje l'apportai avec le tabac sur ma table.\nJe ne savais quel usage faire de ce tabac, ni s'il \u00e9tait convenable ou\ncontraire \u00e0 ma maladie; pourtant j'en fis plusieurs essais, comme si\nj'avais d\u00e9cid\u00e9 qu'il devait \u00eatre bon d'une fa\u00e7on ou d'une autre. J'en\nmis d'abord un morceau de feuille dans ma bouche et je le chiquai: cela\nm'engourdit de suite le cerveau, parce que ce tabac \u00e9tait vert et fort,\net que je n'y \u00e9tais pas tr\u00e8s-accoutum\u00e9. J'en fis ensuite infuser pendant\nune heure ou deux dans un peu de _rum_ pour prendre cette potion en me\ncouchant; enfin j'en fis br\u00fbler sur un brasier, et je me tins le nez\nau-dessus aussi pr\u00e8s et aussi long-temps que la chaleur et la virulence\npurent me le permettre; j'y restai presque jusqu'\u00e0 suffocation.\nDurant ces op\u00e9rations je pris la Bible et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 lire; mais\nj'avais alors la t\u00eate trop troubl\u00e9e par le tabac pour supporter une\nlecture. Seulement, ayant ouvert le livre au hasard, les premi\u00e8res\nparoles que je rencontrai furent celles-ci:--\u00abInvoque-moi au jour de ton\naffliction, et je te d\u00e9livrerai, et tu me glorifieras.\u00bb\nLA SAVANE\nCes paroles \u00e9taient tout-\u00e0-fait applicables \u00e0 ma situation; elles firent\nquelque impression sur mon esprit au moment o\u00f9 je les lus, moins\npourtant qu'elles n'en firent par la suite; car le mot d\u00e9livrance\nn'avait pas de son pour moi, si je puis m'exprimer ainsi. C'\u00e9tait chose\nsi \u00e9loign\u00e9e et \u00e0 mon sentiment si impossible, que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 parler\ncomme firent les enfants d'Isra\u00ebl quand il leur fut promis de la chair \u00e0\nmanger--\u00abDieu peut-il dresser une table dans le d\u00e9sert?\u00bb--moi je\ndisais:--\u00abDieu lui-m\u00eame peut-il me tirer de ce lieu?\u00bb--Et, comme ce ne\nfut qu'apr\u00e8s de longues ann\u00e9es que quelque lueur d'esp\u00e9rance brilla, ce\ndoute pr\u00e9valait tr\u00e8s-souvent dans mon esprit; mais, quoi qu'il en soit,\nces paroles firent une tr\u00e8s-grande impression sur moi, et je m\u00e9ditai sur\nelles fr\u00e9quemment. Cependant il se faisait tard, et le tabac m'avait,\ncomme je l'ai dit, tellement appesanti la t\u00eate qu'il me prit envie de\ndormir, de sorte que, laissant ma lampe allum\u00e9e dans ma grotte de\ncrainte que je n'eusse besoin de quelque chose pendant la nuit, j'allai\nme mettre au lit; mais avant de me coucher, je fis ce que je n'avais\nfait de ma vie, je m'agenouillai et je priai Dieu d'accomplir pour moi\nla promesse de me d\u00e9livrer si je l'invoquais au jour de ma d\u00e9tresse.\nApr\u00e8s cette pri\u00e8re brusque et incompl\u00e8te je bus le _rum_ dans lequel\nj'avais fait tremper le tabac; mais il en \u00e9tait si charg\u00e9 et si fort que\nce ne fut qu'avec beaucoup de peine que je l'avalai. L\u00e0-dessus je me mis\nau lit et je sentis aussit\u00f4t cette potion me porter violemment \u00e0 la\nt\u00eate; mais je tombai dans un si profond sommeil que je ne m'\u00e9veillai que\nle lendemain vers trois heures de l'apr\u00e8s-midi, autant que j'en pus\njuger par le soleil; je dirai plus, je suis \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s d'opinion que je\ndormis tout le jour, toute la nuit suivante et une partie du\nsurlendemain; car autrement je ne sais comment j'aurais pu oublier une\njourn\u00e9e dans mon calcul des jours de la semaine, ainsi que je le\nreconnus quelques ann\u00e9es apr\u00e8s. Si j'avais commis cette erreur en\ntra\u00e7ant et retra\u00e7ant la m\u00eame ligne, j'aurais d\u00fb oublier plus d'un jour.\nUn fait certain, c'est que j'eus ce m\u00e9compte, et que je ne sus jamais\nd'o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait provenu.\nQuoi qu'il en soit, quand je me r\u00e9veillai je me trouvai parfaitement\nrafra\u00eechi, et l'esprit dispos et joyeux. Lorsque je fus lev\u00e9 je me\nsentis plus fort que la veille; mon estomac \u00e9tait mieux, j'avais faim;\nbref, je n'eus pas d'acc\u00e8s le lendemain, et je continuai d'aller de\nmieux en mieux. Ceci se passa le 29.\nLe 30.--C'\u00e9tait mon bon jour, mon jour d'intermittence. Je sortis avec\nmon mousquet, mais j'eus le soin de ne point trop m'\u00e9loigner. Je tuai un\nou deux oiseaux de mer, assez semblables \u00e0 des oies sauvages; je les\napportai au logis; mais je ne fus point tent\u00e9 d'en manger, et je me\ncontentai de quelques \u0153ufs de tortue, qui \u00e9taient fort bons. Le soir je\nr\u00e9it\u00e9rai la m\u00e9decine, que je supposais m'avoir fait du bien,--je veux\ndire le tabac infus\u00e9 dans du _rum,_--seulement j'en bus moins que la\npremi\u00e8re fois; je n'en m\u00e2chai point et je ne pris pas de fumigation.\nN\u00e9anmoins, le jour suivant, qui \u00e9tait le 1er juillet, je ne fus pas\naussi bien que je l'avais esp\u00e9r\u00e9, j'eus un l\u00e9ger ressentiment de\nfrisson, mais ce ne fut que peu de chose.\n=JUILLET=\nLe 2.--Je r\u00e9it\u00e9rai ma m\u00e9decine des trois mani\u00e8res; je me l'administrai\ncomme la premi\u00e8re fois, et je doublai la quantit\u00e9 de ma potion.\nLe 3.--La fi\u00e8vre me quitta pour tout de bon; cependant je ne recouvrai\nenti\u00e8rement mes forces que quelques semaines apr\u00e8s. Pendant cette\nconvalescence, je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis beaucoup sur cette parole:--\u00abJe te\nd\u00e9livrerai;\u00bb--et l'impossibilit\u00e9 de ma d\u00e9livrance se grava si avant en\nmon esprit qu'elle lui d\u00e9fendit tout espoir. Mais, tandis que je me\nd\u00e9courageais avec de telles pens\u00e9es, tout-\u00e0-coup j'avisai que j'\u00e9tais si\npr\u00e9occup\u00e9 de la d\u00e9livrance de ma grande affliction, que je m\u00e9connaissais\nla faveur que je venais de recevoir, et je m'adressai alors moi-m\u00eame ces\nquestions:--\u00abN'ai-je pas \u00e9t\u00e9 miraculeusement d\u00e9livr\u00e9 d'une maladie, de\nla plus d\u00e9plorable situation qui puisse \u00eatre et qui \u00e9tait si\n\u00e9pouvantable pour moi? Quelle attention ai-je fait \u00e0 cela? Comment ai-je\nrempli mes devoirs? Dieu m'a d\u00e9livr\u00e9 et je ne l'ai point glorifi\u00e9;\nc'est-\u00e0-dire je n'ai point \u00e9t\u00e9 reconnaissant, je n'ai point confess\u00e9\ncette d\u00e9livrance; comment en attendrais-je une plus grande encore?\u00bb\nCes r\u00e9flexions p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e8rent mon c\u0153ur; je me jetai \u00e0 genoux, et je\nremerciai Dieu \u00e0 haute voix de m'avoir sauv\u00e9 de cette maladie.\nLe 4.--Dans la matin\u00e9e je pris la Bible, et, commen\u00e7ant par le\nNouveau-Testament, je m'appliquai s\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 sa lecture, et je\nm'imposai la loi d'y vaquer chaque matin et chaque soir, sans\nm'astreindre \u00e0 certain nombre de chapitres, mais en poursuivant aussi\nlong-temps que je le pourrais. Au bout de quelque temps que j'observais\nreligieusement cette pratique, je sentis mon c\u0153ur sinc\u00e8rement et\nprofond\u00e9ment contrit de la perversit\u00e9 de ma vie pass\u00e9e. L'impression de\nmon songe se raviva, et ces paroles:--\u00abToutes ces choses ne t'ont point\namen\u00e9 \u00e0 repentance\u00bb--m'affect\u00e8rent r\u00e9ellement l'esprit. C'est cette\nrepentance que je demandais instamment \u00e0 Dieu, lorsqu'un jour, lisant la\nSainte \u00c9criture, je tombai providentiellement sur ce passage:--\u00abIl est\nexalt\u00e9 prince et sauveur pour donner repentance et pour donner\nr\u00e9mission.\u00bb--Je laissai choir le livre, et, \u00e9levant mon c\u0153ur et mes\nmains vers le Ciel dans une sorte d'extase de joie, je m'\u00e9criai:--\u00abJ\u00e9sus\nfils de David, J\u00e9sus, toi sublime prince et sauveur, donne moi\nrepentance!\u00bb\nCe fut l\u00e0 r\u00e9ellement la premi\u00e8re fois de ma vie que je fis une pri\u00e8re;\ncar je priai alors avec le sentiment de ma mis\u00e8re et avec une esp\u00e9rance\ntoute biblique fond\u00e9e sur la parole consolante de Dieu, et d\u00e8s lors je\ncon\u00e7us l'espoir qu'il m'exaucerait.\nLe passage--\u00abInvoque-moi et je te d\u00e9livrerai\u00bb,--me parut enfin contenir\nun sens que je n'avais point saisi; jusque-l\u00e0 je n'avais eu notion\nd'aucune chose qui p\u00fbt \u00eatre appel\u00e9e d\u00e9livrance, si ce n'est\nl'affranchissement de la captivit\u00e9 o\u00f9 je g\u00e9missais; car, bien que je\nfusse dans un lieu \u00e9tendu, cependant cette \u00eele \u00e9tait vraiment une prison\npour moi, et cela dans le pire sens de ce mot. Mais alors j'appris \u00e0\nvoir les choses sous un autre jour: je jetai un regard en arri\u00e8re sur ma\nvie pass\u00e9e avec une telle horreur, et mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s me parurent si \u00e9normes,\nque mon \u00e2me n'implora plus de Dieu que la d\u00e9livrance du fardeau de ses\nfautes, qui l'oppressait. Quant \u00e0 ma vie solitaire, ce n'\u00e9tait plus\nrien; je ne priais seulement pas Dieu de m'en affranchir, je n'y pensais\npas: tout mes autres maux n'\u00e9taient rien au prix de celui-ci. J'ajoute\nenfin ceci pour bien faire entendre \u00e0 quiconque lira cet \u00e9crit qu'\u00e0\nprendre le vrai sens des choses, c'est une plus grande b\u00e9n\u00e9diction\nd'\u00eatre d\u00e9livr\u00e9 du poids d'un crime que d'une affliction.\nMais laissons cela, et retournons \u00e0 mon _journal_.\nQuoique ma vie f\u00fbt mat\u00e9riellement toujours aussi mis\u00e9rable, ma situation\nmorale commen\u00e7ait cependant \u00e0 s'am\u00e9liorer. Mes pens\u00e9es \u00e9tant dirig\u00e9es\npar une constante lecture de l'\u00c9criture Sainte, et par la pri\u00e8re vers\ndes choses d'une nature plus \u00e9lev\u00e9e, j'y puisais mille consolations qui\nm'avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 jusqu'alors inconnues; et comme ma sant\u00e9 et ma vigueur\nrevenaient, je m'appliquais \u00e0 me pourvoir de tout ce dont j'avais besoin\net \u00e0 me faire une habitude de vie aussi r\u00e9guli\u00e8re qu'il m'\u00e9tait\npossible.\nDu 4 au 14.--Ma principale occupation fut de me promener avec mon fusil\n\u00e0 la main; mais je faisais mes promenades fort courtes, comme un homme\nqui r\u00e9tablit ses forces au sortir d'une maladie; car il serait difficile\nd'imaginer combien alors j'\u00e9tais bas, et \u00e0 quel degr\u00e9 de faiblesse\nj'\u00e9tais r\u00e9duit. Le rem\u00e8de dont j'avais fait usage \u00e9tait tout-\u00e0-fait\nnouveau, et n'avait peut-\u00eatre jamais gu\u00e9ri de fi\u00e8vres auparavant; aussi\nne puis-je recommander \u00e0 qui que ce soit d'en faire l'exp\u00e9rience: il\nchassa, il est vrai, mes acc\u00e8s de fi\u00e8vre, mais il contribua beaucoup \u00e0\nm'affaiblir, et me laissa pour quelque temps des tremblements nerveux et\ndes convulsions dans touts les membres.\nJ'appris aussi en particulier de cette \u00e9preuve que c'\u00e9tait la chose la\nplus pernicieuse \u00e0 la sant\u00e9 que de sortir dans la saison pluvieuse,\nsurtout si la pluie \u00e9tait accompagn\u00e9e de temp\u00eates et d'ouragans. Or,\ncomme les pluies qui tombaient dans la saison s\u00e8che \u00e9taient toujours\naccompagn\u00e9es de violents orages, je reconnus qu'elles \u00e9taient beaucoup\nplus dangereuses que celles de septembre et d'octobre.\nIl y avait pr\u00e8s de dix mois que j'\u00e9tais dans cette \u00eele infortun\u00e9e; toute\npossibilit\u00e9 d'en sortir semblait m'\u00eatre \u00f4t\u00e9e \u00e0 toujours, et je croyais\nfermement que jamais cr\u00e9ature humaine n'avait mis le pied en ce lieu.\nMon habitation \u00e9tant alors \u00e0 mon gr\u00e9 parfaitement mise \u00e0 couvert,\nj'avais un grand d\u00e9sir d'entreprendre une exploration plus compl\u00e8te de\nl'\u00eele, et de voir si je ne d\u00e9couvrirais point quelques productions que\nje ne connaissais point encore.\nCe fut le 15 que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 faire cette visite exacte de mon \u00eele.\nJ'allai d'abord \u00e0 la crique dont j'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 parl\u00e9, et o\u00f9 j'avais abord\u00e9\navec mes radeaux. Quand j'eus fait environ deux mille en la c\u00f4toyant, je\ntrouvai que le flot de la mar\u00e9e ne remontait pas plus haut, et que ce\nn'\u00e9tait plus qu'un petit ruisseau d'eau courante tr\u00e8s-douce et\ntr\u00e8s-bonne. Comme c'\u00e9tait dans la saison s\u00e8che, il n'y avait presque\npoint d'eau dans certains endroits, ou au moins point assez pour que le\ncourant f\u00fbt sensible.\nSur les bords de ce ruisseau je trouvai plusieurs belles savanes ou\nprairies unies, douces et couvertes de verdures. Dans leurs parties\n\u00e9lev\u00e9es proche des hautes terres, qui, selon toute apparence, ne\ndevaient jamais \u00eatre inond\u00e9es, je d\u00e9couvris une grande quantit\u00e9 de\ntabacs verts, qui jetaient de grandes et fortes tiges. Il y avait l\u00e0\ndiverses autres plantes que je ne connaissais point, et qui peut-\u00eatre\navaient des vertus que je ne pouvais imaginer.\nJe me mis \u00e0 chercher le manioc, dont la racine ou cassave sert \u00e0 faire\ndu pain aux Indiens de tout ce climat; il me fut impossible d'en\nd\u00e9couvrir. Je vis d'\u00e9normes plantes d'agave ou d'alo\u00e8s, mais je n'en\nconnaissais pas encore les propri\u00e9t\u00e9s. Je vis aussi quelques cannes \u00e0\nsucre sauvages, et, faute de culture, imparfaites. Je me contentai de\nces d\u00e9couvertes pour cette fois, et je m'en revins en r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissant au\nmoyen par lequel je pourrais m'instruire de la vertu et de la bont\u00e9 des\nplantes et des fruits que je d\u00e9couvrirais; mais je n'en vins \u00e0 aucune\nconclusion; car j'avais si peu observ\u00e9 pendant mon s\u00e9jour au Br\u00e9sil, que\nje connaissais peu les plantes des champs, ou du moins le peu de\nconnaissance que j'en avais acquis ne pouvait alors me servir de rien\ndans ma d\u00e9tresse.\nVENDANGES\nLe lendemain, le 16, je repris le m\u00eame chemin, et, apr\u00e8s m'\u00eatre avanc\u00e9\nun peu plus que je n'avais fait la veille, je vis que le ruisseau et les\nsavanes ne s'\u00e9tendaient pas au-del\u00e0, et que la campagne commen\u00e7ait \u00e0\n\u00eatre plus bois\u00e9e. L\u00e0 je trouvai diff\u00e9rents fruits, particuli\u00e8rement des\nmelons en abondance sur le sol, et des raisins sur les arbres, o\u00f9 les\nvignes s'\u00e9taient entrelac\u00e9es; les grappes \u00e9taient juste dans leur\nprimeur, bien fournies et bien m\u00fbres. C'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 une surprenante\nd\u00e9couverte, j'en fus excessivement content; mais je savais par\nexp\u00e9rience qu'il ne fallait user que mod\u00e9r\u00e9ment de ces fruits; je me\nressouvenais d'avoir vu mourir, tandis que j'\u00e9tais en Barbarie,\nplusieurs de nos Anglais qui s'y trouvaient esclaves, pour avoir gagn\u00e9\nla fi\u00e8vre et des t\u00e9nesmes en mangeant des raisins avec exc\u00e8s. Je trouvai\ncependant moyen d'en faire un excellent usage en les faisant s\u00e9cher et\npasser au soleil comme des raisins de garde; je pensai que de cette\nmani\u00e8re ce serait un manger aussi sain qu'agr\u00e9able pour la saison o\u00f9 je\nn'en pourrais avoir de frais: mon esp\u00e9rance ne fut point tromp\u00e9e.\nJe passai l\u00e0 tout l'apr\u00e8s-midi, et je ne retournai point \u00e0 mon\nhabitation; ce fut la premi\u00e8re fois que je puis dire avoir couch\u00e9 hors\nde chez moi. \u00c0 la nuit j'eus recours \u00e0 ma premi\u00e8re ressource: je montai\nsur un arbre, o\u00f9 je dormis parfaitement. Le lendemain au matin,\npoursuivant mon exploration, je fis pr\u00e8s de quatre milles, autant que\nj'en pus juger par l'\u00e9tendue de la vall\u00e9e, et je me dirigeai toujours\ndroit au Nord, ayant des cha\u00eenes de collines au Nord et au Sud de moi.\nAu bout de cette marche je trouvai un pays d\u00e9couvert qui semblait porter\nsa pente vers l'Ouest; une petite source d'eau fra\u00eeche, sortant du flanc\nd'un monticule voisin, courait \u00e0 l'opposite, c'est-\u00e0-dire droit \u00e0 l'Est.\nToute cette contr\u00e9e paraissait si temp\u00e9r\u00e9e, si verte, si fleurie, et\ntout y \u00e9tait si bien dans la primeur du printemps qu'on l'aurait prise\npour un jardin artificiel.\nJe descendis un peu sur le coteau de cette d\u00e9licieuse vall\u00e9e, la\ncontemplant et songeant, avec une sorte de plaisir secret,--quoique m\u00eal\u00e9\nde pens\u00e9es affligeantes,--que tout cela \u00e9tait mon bien, et que j'\u00e9tais\nRoi et Seigneur absolu de cette terre, que j'y avais droit de\npossession, et que je pouvais la transmettre comme si je l'avais eue en\nh\u00e9ritance, aussi incontestablement qu'un lord d'Angleterre son manoir.\nJ'y vis une grande quantit\u00e9 de cacaoyers, d'orangers, de limoniers et de\ncitronniers, touts sauvages, portant peu de fruits, du moins dans cette\nsaison. Cependant les c\u00e9drats verts que je cueillis \u00e9taient\nnon-seulement fort agr\u00e9ables \u00e0 manger, mais tr\u00e8s-sains; et, dans la\nsuite, j'en m\u00ealai le jus avec de l'eau, ce qui la rendait salubre,\ntr\u00e8s-froide et tr\u00e8s-rafra\u00eechissante.\nJe trouvai alors que j'avais une assez belle besogne pour cueillir ces\nfruits et les transporter chez moi; car j'avais r\u00e9solu de faire une\nprovision de raisins, de c\u00e9drats et de limons pour la saison pluvieuse,\nque je savais approcher.\n\u00c0 cet effet je fis d'abord un grand monceau de raisins, puis un moindre,\npuis un gros tas de citrons et de limons, et, prenant avec moi un peu de\nl'un et de l'autre, je me mis en route pour ma demeure, bien r\u00e9solu de\nrevenir avec un sac, ou n'importe ce que je pourrais fabriquer, pour\ntransporter le reste \u00e0 la maison.\nApr\u00e8s avoir employ\u00e9 trois jours \u00e0 ce voyage, je rentrai donc chez\nmoi;--d\u00e9sormais c'est ainsi que j'appellerai ma tente et ma\ngrotte;--mais avant que j'y fusse arriv\u00e9, mes raisins \u00e9taient perdus:\nleur poids et leur jus abondant les avaient affaiss\u00e9s et broy\u00e9s, de\nsorte qu'ils ne valaient rien ou peu de chose. Quant aux c\u00e9drats, ils\n\u00e9taient en bon \u00e9tat, mais je n'en avais pris qu'un tr\u00e8s-petit nombre.\nLe jour suivant, qui \u00e9tait le 19, ayant fait deux sacs, je retournai\nchercher ma r\u00e9colte; mais en arrivant \u00e0 mon amas de raisins, qui \u00e9taient\nsi beaux et si all\u00e9chants quand je les avais cueillis, je fus surpris de\nles voir tout \u00e9parpill\u00e9s, foul\u00e9s, tra\u00een\u00e9s \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, et d\u00e9vor\u00e9s en grande\npartie. J'en conclus qu'il y avait dans le voisinage quelques cr\u00e9atures\nsauvages qui avaient fait ce d\u00e9g\u00e2t; mais quelles cr\u00e9atures \u00e9taient-ce?\nJe l'ignorais.\nQuoi qu'il en soit, voyant que je ne pouvais ni les laisser l\u00e0 en\nmonceaux, ni les emporter dans un sac, parce que d'une fa\u00e7on ils\nseraient d\u00e9vor\u00e9s, et que de l'autre ils seraient \u00e9cras\u00e9s par leur propre\npoids, j'eus recours \u00e0 un autre moyen; je cueillis donc une grande\nquantit\u00e9 de grappes, et je les suspendis \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 des branches des\narbres pour les faire s\u00e9cher au soleil; mais quant aux c\u00e9drats et aux\nlimons, j'en emportai ma charge.\n\u00c0 mon retour de ce voyage je contemplai avec un grand plaisir la\nf\u00e9condit\u00e9 de cette vall\u00e9e, les charmes de sa situation \u00e0 l'abri des\nvents de mer, et les bois qui l'ombrageaient: j'en conclus que j'avais\nfix\u00e9 mon habitation dans la partie la plus ingrate de l'\u00eele. En somme,\nje commen\u00e7ai de songer \u00e0 changer ma demeure, et \u00e0 me choisir, s'il \u00e9tait\npossible, dans ce beau vallon un lieu aussi s\u00fbr que celui que j'habitais\nalors.\nCe projet me roula long-temps dans la t\u00eate, et j'en raffolai long-temps,\n\u00e9pris de la beaut\u00e9 du lieu; mais quand je vins \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer les choses\nde plus pr\u00e8s et \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir que je demeurais proche de la mer, o\u00f9 il\n\u00e9tait au moins possible que quelque chose \u00e0 mon avantage y p\u00fbt advenir;\nque la m\u00eame fatalit\u00e9 qui m'y avait pouss\u00e9 pourrait y jeter d'autres\nmalheureux, et que, bien qu'il f\u00fbt \u00e0 peine plausible que rien de pareil\ny d\u00fbt arriver, n\u00e9anmoins m'enfermer au milieu des collines et des bois,\ndans le centre de l'\u00eele, c'\u00e9tait vouloir prolonger ma captivit\u00e9 et\nrendre un tel \u00e9v\u00e9nement non-seulement improbable, mais impossible. Je\ncompris donc qu'il \u00e9tait de mon devoir de ne point changer d'habitation.\nCependant j'\u00e9tais si enamour\u00e9 de ce lieu que j'y passai presque tout le\nreste du mois de juillet, et, malgr\u00e9 qu'apr\u00e8s mes r\u00e9flexions j'eusse\nr\u00e9solu de ne point d\u00e9m\u00e9nager, je m'y construisis pourtant une sorte de\ntonnelle, que j'entourai \u00e0 distance d'une forte enceinte form\u00e9e d'une\ndouble haie, aussi haute que je pouvais atteindre, bien palissad\u00e9e et\nbien fourr\u00e9e de broussailles. L\u00e0, tranquille, je couchais quelquefois\ndeux ou trois nuits de suite, passant et repassant par-dessus la haie,\nau moyen d'une \u00e9chelle, comme je le pratiquais d\u00e9j\u00e0. D\u00e8s lors je me\nfigurai avoir ma maison de campagne et ma maison maritime. Cet ouvrage\nm'occupa jusqu'au commencement d'ao\u00fbt.\n=AO\u00dbT=\nComme j'achevais mes fortifications et commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 jouir de mon labeur,\nles pluies survinrent et m'oblig\u00e8rent \u00e0 demeurer \u00e0 la maison; car, bien\nque dans ma nouvelle habitation j'eusse fait avec un morceau de voile\ntr\u00e8s-bien tendu une tente semblable \u00e0 l'autre, cependant je n'avais\npoint la protection d'une montagne pour me garder des orages, et\nderri\u00e8re moi une grotte pour me retirer quand les pluies \u00e9taient\nexcessives.\nVers le 1er de ce mois, comme je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, j'avais achev\u00e9 ma\ntonnelle et commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 en jouir.\nLe 3.--Je trouvai les raisins que j'avais suspendus parfaitement secs;\net, au fait, c'\u00e9taient d'excellentes passerilles[23]; aussi me mis-je \u00e0\nles \u00f4ter de dessus les arbres; et ce fut tr\u00e8s-heureux que j'eusse fait\nainsi; car les pluies qui survinrent les auraient g\u00e2t\u00e9s, et m'auraient\nfait perdre mes meilleures provisions d'hiver: j'en avais au moins deux\ncents belles grappes. Je ne les eus pas plus t\u00f4t d\u00e9pendues et\ntransport\u00e9es en grande partie \u00e0 ma grotte, qu'il tomba de l'eau. Depuis\nle 14 il plut chaque jour plus ou moins jusqu'\u00e0 la mi-octobre, et\nquelquefois si violemment que je ne pouvais sortir de ma grotte durant\nplusieurs jours.\nDans cette saison l'accroissement de ma famille me causa une grande\nsurprise. J'\u00e9tais inquiet de la perte d'une de mes chattes qui s'en\n\u00e9tait all\u00e9e, ou qui, \u00e0 ce que je croyais, \u00e9tait morte et je n'y comptais\nplus, quand, \u00e0 mon grand \u00e9tonnement, vers la fin du mois d'ao\u00fbt, elle\nrevint avec trois petits. Cela fut d'autant plus \u00e9trange pour moi, que\nl'animal que j'avais tu\u00e9 avec mon fusil et que j'avais appel\u00e9 chat\nsauvage, m'avait paru enti\u00e8rement diff\u00e9rent de nos chats d'Europe;\npourtant les petits minets \u00e9taient de la race domestique comme ma\nvieille chatte, et pourtant je n'avais que deux femelles: cela \u00e9tait\nbien \u00e9trange! Quoi qu'il en soit, de ces trois chats il sortit une si\ngrande post\u00e9rit\u00e9 de chats, que je fus forc\u00e9 de les tuer comme des vers\nou des b\u00eates farouches, et de les chasser de ma maison autant que\npossible.\nDepuis le 14 jusqu'au 26, pluie incessante, de sorte que je ne pus\nsortir; j'\u00e9tais devenu tr\u00e8s-soigneux de me garantir de l'humidit\u00e9.\nDurant cet emprisonnement, comme je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 me trouver \u00e0 court de\nvivres, je me hasardai dehors deux fois: la premi\u00e8re fois je tuai un\nbouc, et la seconde fois, qui \u00e9tait le 26, je trouvai une grosse tortue,\nqui fut pour moi un grand r\u00e9gal. Mes repas \u00e9taient r\u00e9gl\u00e9s ainsi: \u00e0 mon\nd\u00e9je\u00fbner je mangeais une grappe de raisin, \u00e0 mon d\u00eener un morceau de\nch\u00e8vre ou de tortue grill\u00e9;--car, \u00e0 mon grand chagrin, je n'avais pas de\nvase pour faire bouillir ou \u00e9tuver quoi que ce f\u00fbt.--Enfin deux ou trois\n\u0153ufs de tortue faisaient mon souper.\nPendant que la pluie me tint ainsi claquemur\u00e9, je travaillai chaque jour\ndeux ou trois heures \u00e0 agrandir ma grotte, et, peu \u00e0 peu, dirigeant ma\nfouille obliquement, je parvins jusqu'au flanc du rocher, o\u00f9 je\npratiquai une porte ou une issue qui d\u00e9bouchait un peu au-del\u00e0 de mon\nenceinte. Par ce chemin je pouvais entrer et sortir; toutefois je\nn'\u00e9tais pas tr\u00e8s-aise de me voir ainsi \u00e0 d\u00e9couvert. Dans l'\u00e9tat de chose\npr\u00e9c\u00e9dent, je m'estimais parfaitement en s\u00fbret\u00e9, tandis qu'alors je me\ncroyais fort expos\u00e9, et pourtant je n'avais apper\u00e7u aucun \u00eatre vivant\nqui p\u00fbt me donner des craintes, car la plus grosse cr\u00e9ature que j'eusse\nencore vue dans l'\u00eele \u00e9tait un bouc.\n=SEPTEMBRE=\nLe 30.--J'\u00e9tais arriv\u00e9 au triste anniversaire de mon d\u00e9barquement;\nj'additionnai les hoches de mon poteau, et je trouvai que j'\u00e9tais sur ce\nrivage depuis trois cent soixante-cinq jours. Je gardai durant cette\njourn\u00e9e un je\u00fbne solemnel, la consacrant tout enti\u00e8re \u00e0 des exercices\nreligieux, me prosternant \u00e0 terre dans la plus profonde humiliation, me\nconfessant \u00e0 Dieu, reconnaissant la justice de ses jugements sur moi, et\nl'implorant de me faire mis\u00e9ricorde au nom de J\u00e9sus-Christ. Je m'abstins\nde toute nourriture pendant douze heures jusqu'au coucher du soleil,\napr\u00e8s quoi je mangeai un biscuit et une grappe de raisin; puis, ayant\ntermin\u00e9 cette journ\u00e9e comme je l'avais commenc\u00e9e, j'allai me mettre au\nlit.\nJusque-l\u00e0 je n'avais observ\u00e9 aucun dimanche; parce que, n'ayant eu\nd'abord aucun sentiment de religion dans le c\u0153ur, j'avais omis au bout\nde quelque temps de distinguer la semaine en marquant une hoche plus\nlongue pour le dimanche; ainsi je ne pouvais plus r\u00e9ellement le\ndiscerner des autres jours. Mais, quand j'eus additionn\u00e9 mes jours,\ncomme j'ai dit plus haut, et que j'eus reconnu que j'\u00e9tais l\u00e0 depuis un\nan, je divisai cette ann\u00e9e en semaines, et je pris le septi\u00e8me jour de\nchacune pour mon dimanche. \u00c0 la fin de mon calcul je trouvai pourtant un\njour ou deux de m\u00e9compte.\nSOUVENIR D'ENFANCE\nPeu de temps apr\u00e8s je m'apper\u00e7us que mon encre allait bient\u00f4t me\nmanquer; je me contentai donc d'en user avec un extr\u00eame m\u00e9nagement, et\nde noter seulement les \u00e9v\u00e9nements les plus remarquables de ma vie, sans\ncontinuer un m\u00e9morial journalier de toutes choses.\nLa saison s\u00e8che et la saison pluvieuse commen\u00e7aient d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e0 me para\u00eetre\nr\u00e9guli\u00e8res; je savais les diviser et me pr\u00e9munir contre elles en\ncons\u00e9quence. Mais j'achetai ch\u00e8rement cette exp\u00e9rience, et ce que je\nvais rapporter est l'\u00e9cole la plus d\u00e9courageante que j'aie faite de ma\nvie. J'ai racont\u00e9 plus haut que j'avais mis en r\u00e9serve le peu d'orge et\nde riz que j'avais cru pouss\u00e9s spontan\u00e9ment et merveilleusement; il\npouvait bien y avoir trente tiges de riz et vingt d'orge. Les pluies\n\u00e9tant pass\u00e9es et le soleil entrant en s'\u00e9loignant de moi dans sa\nposition m\u00e9ridionale, je crus alors le temps propice pour faire mes\nsemailles.\nJe b\u00eachai donc une pi\u00e8ce de terre du mieux que je pus avec ma pelle de\nbois, et, l'ayant divis\u00e9e en deux portions, je me mis \u00e0 semer mon grain.\nMais, pendant cette op\u00e9ration, il me vint par hasard \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e que je\nferais bien de ne pas tout semer en une seule fois, ne sachant point si\nalors le temps \u00e9tait favorable; je ne risquai donc que les deux tiers de\nmes grains, r\u00e9servant \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s une poign\u00e9e de chaque sorte. Ce fut\nplus tard une grande satisfaction pour moi que j'eusse fait ainsi. De\ntouts les grains que j'avais sem\u00e9s pas un seul ne leva; parce que, les\nmois suivants \u00e9tant secs, et la terre ne recevant point de pluie, ils\nmanqu\u00e8rent d'humidit\u00e9 pour leur germination. Rien ne parut donc jusqu'au\nretour de la saison pluvieuse, o\u00f9 ils jet\u00e8rent des tiges comme s'ils\nvenaient d'\u00eatre nouvellement sem\u00e9s.\nVoyant que mes premi\u00e8res semences ne croissaient point, et devinant\nfacilement que la s\u00e9cheresse en \u00e9tait cause, je cherchai un terrain,\nplus humide pour faire un nouvel essai. Je b\u00eachai donc une pi\u00e8ce de\nterre proche de ma nouvelle tonnelle, et je semai le reste de mon grain\nen f\u00e9vrier, un peu avant l'\u00e9quinoxe du printemps. Ce grain, ayant pour\nl'humecter les mois pluvieux de mars et d'avril, poussa\ntr\u00e8s-agr\u00e9ablement et donna une fort bonne r\u00e9colte. Mais, comme ce\nn'\u00e9tait seulement qu'une portion du bl\u00e9 que j'avais mis en r\u00e9serve,\nn'ayant pas os\u00e9 aventurer tout ce qui m'en restait encore, je n'eus en\nr\u00e9sultat qu'une tr\u00e8s-petite moisson, qui ne montait pas en tout \u00e0\ndemi-picotin de chaque sorte.\nToutefois cette exp\u00e9rience m'avait fait passer ma\u00eetre: je savais alors\npositivement quelle \u00e9tait la saison propre \u00e0 ensemencer, et que je\npouvais faire en une ann\u00e9e deux semailles et deux moissons.\nTandis que mon bl\u00e9 croissait, je fis une petite d\u00e9couverte qui me fut\ntr\u00e8s-utile par la suite. Aussit\u00f4t que les pluies furent pass\u00e9es et que\nle temps commen\u00e7a \u00e0 se rassurer, ce qui advint vers le mois de novembre,\nj'allai faire un tour \u00e0 ma tonnelle, o\u00f9, malgr\u00e9 une absence de quelques\nmois, je trouvai tout absolument comme je l'avais laiss\u00e9. Le cercle ou\nla double haie que j'avais faite \u00e9tait non-seulement ferme et enti\u00e8re,\nmais les pieux que j'avais coup\u00e9s sur quelques arbres qui s'\u00e9levaient\ndans les environs, avaient touts bourgeonn\u00e9 et jet\u00e9 de grandes branches,\ncomme font ordinairement les saules, qui repoussent la premi\u00e8re ann\u00e9e\napr\u00e8s leur \u00e9t\u00eatement. Je ne saurais comment appeler les arbres qui\nm'avaient fourni ces pieux. Surpris et cependant enchant\u00e9 de voir\npousser ces jeunes plants, je les \u00e9laguai, et je les amenai \u00e0 cro\u00eetre\naussi \u00e9galement que possible. On ne saurait croire la belle figure\nqu'ils firent au bout de trois ans. Ma haie formait un cercle d'environ\ntrente-cinq verges de diam\u00e8tre; cependant ces arbres, car alors je\npouvais les appeler ainsi, la couvrirent bient\u00f4t enti\u00e8rement, et\nform\u00e8rent une salle d'ombrage assez touffue et assez \u00e9paisse pour loger\ndessous durant toute la saison s\u00e8che.\nCeci me d\u00e9termina \u00e0 couper encore d'autres pieux pour me faire,\nsemblable \u00e0 celle-ci, une haie en demi-cercle autour de ma muraille,\nj'entends celle de ma premi\u00e8re demeure; j'ex\u00e9cutai donc ce projet et je\nplantai un double rang de ces arbres ou de ces pieux \u00e0 la distance de\nhuit verges de mon ancienne palissade. Ils pouss\u00e8rent aussit\u00f4t, et\nform\u00e8rent un beau couvert pour mon habitation; plus tard ils me\nservirent aussi de d\u00e9fense, comme je le dirai en son lieu.\nJ'avais reconnu alors que les saisons de l'ann\u00e9e pouvaient en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral se\ndiviser, non en \u00e9t\u00e9 et en hiver, comme en Europe, mais en temps de pluie\net de s\u00e9cheresse, qui g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement se succ\u00e8dent ainsi:\nMoiti\u00e9 de F\u00e9vrier, Mars, moiti\u00e9 d'Avril:\nPluie, le soleil \u00e9tant dans son proche \u00e9quinoxe.\nMoiti\u00e9 d'Avril, Mai, Juin, Juillet, moiti\u00e9 d'Ao\u00fbt:\nS\u00e9cheresse, le soleil \u00e9tant alors au Nord de la ligne.\nMoiti\u00e9 d'Ao\u00fbt, Septembre, moiti\u00e9 d'Octobre:\nPluie, le soleil \u00e9tant revenu.\nMoiti\u00e9 d'Octobre, Novembre, D\u00e9cembre, Janvier, moiti\u00e9 de F\u00e9vrier:\nS\u00e9cheresse, le soleil \u00e9tant au Sud de la ligne.\nLa saison pluvieuse durait plus ou moins long-temps, selon les vents qui\nvenaient \u00e0 souffler; mais c'\u00e9tait une observation g\u00e9n\u00e9rale que j'avais\nfaite. Comme j'avais appris \u00e0 mes d\u00e9pens combien il \u00e9tait dangereux de\nse trouver dehors par les pluies, j'avais le soin de faire mes\nprovisions \u00e0 l'avance, pour n'\u00eatre point oblig\u00e9 de sortir; et je restais\n\u00e0 la maison autant que possible durant les mois pluvieux.\nPendant ce temps je ne manquais pas de travaux,--m\u00eame tr\u00e8s-convenables \u00e0\ncette situation,--car j'avais grand besoin de bien des choses, dont je\nne pouvais me fournir que par un rude labeur et une constante\napplication. Par exemple, j'essayai de plusieurs mani\u00e8res \u00e0 me tresser\nun panier; mais les baguettes que je me procurais pour cela \u00e9taient si\ncassantes, que je n'en pouvais rien faire. Ce fut alors d'un tr\u00e8s-grand\navantage pour moi que, tout enfant, je me fusse plu \u00e0 m'arr\u00eater chez un\nvannier de la ville o\u00f9 mon p\u00e8re r\u00e9sidait, et \u00e0 le regarder faire ses\nouvrages d'osier. Officieux, comme le sont ordinairement les petits\ngar\u00e7ons, et grand observateur de sa mani\u00e8re d'ex\u00e9cuter ses ouvrages,\nquelquefois je lui pr\u00eatais la main; j'avais donc acquis par ce moyen une\nconnaissance parfaite des proc\u00e9d\u00e9s du m\u00e9tier: il ne me manquait que des\nmat\u00e9riaux. Je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis enfin que les rameaux de l'arbre sur lequel\nj'avais coup\u00e9 mes pieux, qui avaient drageonn\u00e9, pourraient bien \u00eatre\naussi flexibles que le saule, le marsault et l'osier d'Angleterre, et je\nr\u00e9solus de m'en assurer.\nCons\u00e9quemment le lendemain j'allai \u00e0 ma maison de campagne, comme je\nl'appelais, et, ayant coup\u00e9 quelques petites branches, je les trouvai\naussi convenables que je pouvais le d\u00e9sirer. Muni d'une hache, je revins\ndans les jours suivants, pour en abattre une bonne quantit\u00e9 que je\ntrouvai sans peine, car il y en avait l\u00e0 en grande abondance. Je les mis\nen dedans de mon enceinte ou de mes haies pour les faire s\u00e9cher, et d\u00e8s\nqu'elles furent propres \u00e0 \u00eatre employ\u00e9es, je les portai dans ma grotte,\no\u00f9, durant la saison suivante, je m'occupai \u00e0 fabriquer,--aussi bien\nqu'il m'\u00e9tait possible, un grand nombre de corbeilles pour porter de la\nterre, ou pour transporter ou conserver divers objets dont j'avais\nbesoin. Quoique je ne les eusse pas faites tr\u00e8s-\u00e9l\u00e9gamment, elles me\nfurent pourtant suffisamment utiles; aussi, depuis lors, j'eus\nl'attention de ne jamais m'en laisser manquer; et, \u00e0 mesure que ma\nvannerie d\u00e9p\u00e9rissait, j'en refaisais de nouvelle. Je fabriquai surtout\ndes mannes fortes et profondes, pour y serrer mon grain, au lieu de\nl'ensacher, quand je viendrais \u00e0 faire une bonne moisson.\nCette difficult\u00e9 \u00e9tant surmont\u00e9e, ce qui me prit un temps infini, je me\ntourmentai l'esprit pour voir s'il ne serait pas possible que je\nsuppl\u00e9asse \u00e0 deux autres besoins. Pour tous vaisseaux qui pussent\ncontenir des liquides, je n'avais que deux barils encore presque pleins\nde _rum,_ quelques bouteilles de verre de m\u00e9diocre grandeur, et quelques\nflacons carr\u00e9s contenant des eaux et des spiritueux. Je n'avais pas\nseulement un pot pour faire bouillir dedans quoi que ce f\u00fbt, except\u00e9 une\nchaudi\u00e8re que j'avais sauv\u00e9e du navire, mais qui \u00e9tait trop grande pour\nfaire du bouillon ou faire \u00e9tuver un morceau de viande pour moi seul. La\nseconde chose que j'aurais bien d\u00e9sir\u00e9 avoir, c'\u00e9tait une pipe \u00e0 tabac;\nmais il m'\u00e9tait impossible d'en fabriquer une. Cependant, \u00e0 la fin, je\ntrouvai aussi une assez bonne invention pour cela.\nJe m'\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 tout l'\u00e9t\u00e9 ou toute la saison s\u00e8che \u00e0 planter mes\nseconds rangs de palis ou de pieux, quand une autre affaire vint me\nprendre plus de temps que je n'en avais r\u00e9serv\u00e9 pour mes loisirs.\nJ'ai dit plus haut que j'avais une grande envie d'explorer toute l'\u00eele,\nque j'avais pouss\u00e9 ma course jusqu'au ruisseau, puis jusqu'au lieu o\u00f9\nj'avais construit ma tonnelle, et d'o\u00f9 j'avais une belle perc\u00e9e jusqu'\u00e0\nla mer, sur l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele. Je r\u00e9solus donc d'aller par la\ntraverse jusqu'\u00e0 ce rivage; et, prenant mon mousquet, ma hache, mon\nchien, une plus grande provision de poudre que de coutume, et garnissant\nmon havresac de deux biscuits et d'une grosse grappe de raisin, je\ncommen\u00e7ai mon voyage. Quand j'eus travers\u00e9 la vall\u00e9e o\u00f9 se trouvait\nsitu\u00e9e ma tonnelle dont j'ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, je d\u00e9couvris la mer \u00e0\nl'Ouest, et, comme il faisait un temps fort clair, je distinguai\nparfaitement une terre: \u00e9tait-ce une \u00eele ou le continent, je ne pouvais\nle dire; elle \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s-haute et s'\u00e9tendait fort loin de l'Ouest \u00e0\nl'Ouest-Sud-Ouest, et me paraissait ne pas \u00eatre \u00e9loign\u00e9e de moins de\nquinze ou vingt lieues.\nMais quelle contr\u00e9e du monde \u00e9tait-ce? Tout ce qu'il m'\u00e9tait permis de\nsavoir, c'est qu'elle devait n\u00e9cessairement faire partie de L'Am\u00e9rique.\nD'apr\u00e8s toutes mes observations, je conclus qu'elle confinait aux\npossessions espagnoles, qu'elle \u00e9tait sans doute toute habit\u00e9e par des\nSauvages, et que si j'y eusse abord\u00e9, j'aurais eu \u00e0 subir un sort pire\nque n'\u00e9tait le mien. J'acquies\u00e7ai donc aux dispositions de la\nProvidence, qui, je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 le reconna\u00eetre et \u00e0 le croire, ordonne\nchaque chose pour le mieux. C'est ainsi que je tranquillisai mon esprit,\nbien loin de me tourmenter du vain d\u00e9sir d'aller en ce pays.\nEn outre, apr\u00e8s que j'eus bien r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi sur cette d\u00e9couverte, je pensai\nque si cette terre faisait partie du littoral espagnol, je verrais\ninfailliblement, une fois ou une autre passer et repasser quelques\nvaisseaux; et que, si le cas contraire \u00e9ch\u00e9ait, ce serait une preuve que\ncette c\u00f4te faisait partie de celle qui s'\u00e9tend entre le pays espagnol et\nle Br\u00e9sil; c\u00f4te habit\u00e9e par la pire esp\u00e8ce des Sauvages, car ils sont\ncannibales ou mangeurs d'hommes, et ne manquent jamais de massacrer et\nde d\u00e9vorer tout ceux qui tombent entre leurs mains.\nLA CAGE DE POLL\nEn faisant ces r\u00e9flexions je marchais en avant tout \u00e0 loisir. Ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 de\nl'\u00eele me parut beaucoup plus agr\u00e9able que le mien; les savanes \u00e9taient\ndouces, verdoyantes, \u00e9maill\u00e9es de fleurs et sem\u00e9es de bosquets\ncharmants. Je vis une multitude de perroquets, et il me prit envie d'en\nattraper un s'il \u00e9tait possible, pour le garder, l'apprivoiser et lui\napprendre \u00e0 causer avec moi. Apr\u00e8s m'\u00eatre donn\u00e9 assez de peine, j'en\nsurpris un jeune, je l'abattis d'un coup de b\u00e2ton, et, l'ayant relev\u00e9,\nje l'emportai \u00e0 la maison. Plusieurs ann\u00e9es s'\u00e9coul\u00e8rent avant que je\npusse le faire parler; mais enfin je lui appris \u00e0 m'appeler\nfamili\u00e8rement par mon nom. L'aventure qui en r\u00e9sulta, quoique ce ne soit\nqu'une bagatelle, pourra fort bien \u00eatre, en son lieu, tr\u00e8s-divertissante.\nCe voyage me fut excessivement agr\u00e9able: je trouvai dans les basses\nterres des animaux que je crus \u00eatre des li\u00e8vres et des renards; mais ils\n\u00e9taient tr\u00e8s-diff\u00e9rents de toutes les autres esp\u00e8ces que j'avais vues\njusque alors. Bien que j'en eusse tu\u00e9 plusieurs, je ne satisfis point\nmon envie d'en manger. \u00c0 quoi bon m'aventurer; je ne manquais pas\nd'aliments, et de tr\u00e8s-bons, surtout de trois sortes: des ch\u00e8vres, des\npigeons et des ch\u00e9lones ou tortues. Ajoutez \u00e0 cela mes raisins, et le\nmarch\u00e9 de Leadenhall n'aurait pu fournir une table mieux que moi, \u00e0\nproportion des convives. Malgr\u00e9 ma situation, en somme assez d\u00e9plorable,\nj'avais pourtant grand sujet d'\u00eatre reconnaissant; car, bien loin d'\u00eatre\nentra\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0 aucune extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 pour ma subsistance, je jouissais d'une\nabondance pouss\u00e9e m\u00eame jusqu'\u00e0 la d\u00e9licatesse.\nDans ce voyage je ne marchais jamais plus de deux milles ou environ par\njour; mais je prenais tant de tours et de d\u00e9tours pour voir si je ne\nferais point quelque d\u00e9couverte, que j'arrivais assez fatigu\u00e9 au lieu o\u00f9\nje d\u00e9cidais de m'\u00e9tablir pour la nuit. Alors j'allais me loger dans un\narbre, ou bien je m'entourais de pieux plant\u00e9s en terre depuis un arbre\njusqu'\u00e0 un autre, pour que les b\u00eates farouches ne pussent venir \u00e0 moi\nsans m'\u00e9veiller. En atteignant \u00e0 la rive de la mer, je fus surpris de\nvoir que le plus mauvais c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele m'\u00e9tait \u00e9chu: celle-ci \u00e9tait\ncouverte de tortues, tandis que sur mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 je n'en avais trouv\u00e9 que\ntrois en un an et demi. Il y avait aussi une foule d'oiseaux de\ndiff\u00e9rentes esp\u00e8ces dont quelques-unes m'\u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 connues, et pour\nla plupart fort bons \u00e0 manger; mais parmi ceux-l\u00e0 je n'en connaissais\naucun de nom, except\u00e9 ceux qu'on appelle _Pingouins_.\nJ'en aurais pu tuer tout autant qu'il m'aurait plu, mais j'\u00e9tais\ntr\u00e8s-m\u00e9nager de ma poudre et de mon plomb; j'eusse bien pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 tuer une\nch\u00e8vre s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 possible, parce qu'il y aurait eu davantage \u00e0\nmanger. Cependant, quoique les boucs fussent en plus grande abondance\ndans cette portion de l'\u00eele que dans l'autre, il \u00e9tait n\u00e9anmoins\nbeaucoup plus difficile de les approcher, parce que la campagne, \u00e9tant\nplate et rase, ils m'appercevaient de bien plus loin que lorsque j'\u00e9tais\nsur les collines.\nJ'avoue que ce canton \u00e9tait infiniment plus agr\u00e9able que le mien, et\npourtant il ne me vint pas le moindre d\u00e9sir de d\u00e9m\u00e9nager. J'\u00e9tais fix\u00e9 \u00e0\nmon habitation, je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 m'y faire, et tout le temps que je\ndemeurai par-l\u00e0 il me semblait que j'\u00e9tais en voyage et loin de ma\npatrie. Toutefois, je marchai le long de la c\u00f4te vers l'Est pendant\nenviron douze milles; puis alors je plantai une grande perche sur le\nrivage pour me servir de point de rep\u00e8re, et je me d\u00e9terminai \u00e0\nretourner au logis. \u00c0 mon voyage suivant je pris \u00e0 l'Est de ma demeure,\nafin de gagner le c\u00f4t\u00e9 oppos\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, et je tournai jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je\nparvinsse \u00e0 mon jalon. Je dirai cela en temps et place.\nJe pris pour m'en retourner un autre chemin que celui par o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais\nvenu, pensant que je pourrais ais\u00e9ment me reconna\u00eetre dans toute l'\u00eele,\net que je ne pourrais manquer de retrouver ma premi\u00e8re demeure en\nexplorant le pays; mais je m'abusais; car, lorsque j'eus fait deux ou\ntrois milles, je me trouvai descendu dans une immense vall\u00e9e environn\u00e9e\nde collines si bois\u00e9es, que rien ne pouvait me diriger dans ma route, le\nsoleil except\u00e9, encore e\u00fbt-il fallu au moins que je connusse tr\u00e8s-bien\nla position de cet astre \u00e0 cette heure du jour.\nIl arriva que pour surcro\u00eet d'infortune, tandis que j'\u00e9tais dans cette\nvall\u00e9e, le temps se couvrit de brumes pour trois ou quatre jours. Comme\nil ne m'\u00e9tait pas possible de voir le soleil, je r\u00f4dai\ntr\u00e8s-malencontreusement, et je fus enfin oblig\u00e9 de regagner le bord de\nla mer, de chercher mon jalon et de reprendre la route par laquelle\nj'\u00e9tais venu. Alors je retournai chez moi, mais \u00e0 petites journ\u00e9es, le\nsoleil \u00e9tant excessivement chaud, et mon fusil, mes munitions, ma hache\net tout mon \u00e9quipement extr\u00eamement lourds.\nMon chien, dans ce trajet, surprit un jeune chevreau et le saisit.\nJ'accourus aussit\u00f4t, je m'en emparai et le sauvai vivant de sa gueule.\nJ'avais un tr\u00e8s-grand d\u00e9sir de l'amener \u00e0 la maison s'il \u00e9tait possible;\nsouvent j'avais song\u00e9 aux moyens de prendre un cabri ou deux pour former\nune race de boucs domestiques, qui pourraient fournir \u00e0 ma nourriture\nquand ma poudre et mon plomb seraient consomm\u00e9s.\nJe fis un collier pour cette petite cr\u00e9ature, et, avec un cordon que je\ntressai avec du fil de caret, que je portais toujours avec moi, je le\nmenai en laisse, non sans difficult\u00e9, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je fusse arriv\u00e9 \u00e0\nma tonnelle, o\u00f9 je l'enfermai et le laissai; j'\u00e9tais si impatient de\nrentrer chez moi apr\u00e8s un mois d'absence.\nJe ne saurais comment exprimer quelle satisfaction ce fut pour moi de me\nretrouver dans ma vieille huche[24], et de me coucher dans mon hamac. Ce\npetit voyage \u00e0 l'aventure, sans retraite assur\u00e9e, m'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 si\nd\u00e9sagr\u00e9able, que ma propre maison me semblait un \u00e9tablissement parfait\nen comparaison; et cela me fit si bien sentir le confortable de tout ce\nqui m'environnait, que je r\u00e9solus de ne plus m'en \u00e9loigner pour un temps\naussi long tant que mon sort me retiendrait sur cette \u00eele.\nJe me reposai une semaine pour me restaurer et me r\u00e9galer apr\u00e8s mon long\np\u00e8lerinage. La majeure partie de ce temps fut absorb\u00e9e par une affaire\nimportante, la fabrication d'une cage pour mon Poll, qui commen\u00e7ait\nalors \u00e0 \u00eatre quelqu'un de la maison et \u00e0 se familiariser parfaitement\navec moi. Je me ressouvins enfin de mon pauvre biquet que j'avais parqu\u00e9\ndans mon petit enclos, et je r\u00e9solus d'aller le chercher et de lui\nporter quelque nourriture. Je m'y rendis donc, et je le trouvai o\u00f9 je\nl'avais laiss\u00e9:--au fait il ne pouvait sortir,--mais il \u00e9tait presque\nmourant de faim. J'allai couper quelques rameaux aux arbres et quelques\nbranches aux arbrisseaux que je pus trouver, et je les lui jetai. Quand\nil les eut brout\u00e9, je le liai comme j'avais fait auparavant et je\nl'emmenai; mais il \u00e9tait si mat\u00e9 par l'inanition, que je n'aurais pas\nm\u00eame eu besoin de le tenir en laisse: il me suivit comme un chien. Comme\nje continuai de le nourrir, il devint si aimant, si gentil, si doux,\nqu'il fut d\u00e8s lors un de mes serviteurs, et que depuis il ne voulut\njamais m'abandonner.\nLa saison pluvieuse de l'\u00e9quinoxe automnal \u00e9tait revenue. J'observai\nl'anniversaire du 30 septembre, jour de mon d\u00e9barquement dans l'\u00eele,\navec la m\u00eame solemnit\u00e9 que la premi\u00e8re fois, il y avait alors deux ans\nque j'\u00e9tais l\u00e0, et je n'entrevoyais pas plus ma d\u00e9livrance que le\npremier jour de mon arriv\u00e9e. Je passai cette journ\u00e9e enti\u00e8re \u00e0 remercier\nhumblement le Ciel de toutes les faveurs merveilleuses dont il avait\ncombl\u00e9 ma vie solitaire, et sans lesquelles j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 infiniment plus\nmis\u00e9rable. J'adressai \u00e0 Dieu d'humbles et sinc\u00e8res actions de gr\u00e2ces de\nce qu'il lui avait plu de me d\u00e9couvrir que m\u00eame, dans cette solitude, je\npouvais \u00eatre plus heureux que je ne l'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 au sein de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 et\nde touts les plaisirs du monde; je le b\u00e9nis encore de ce qu'il\nremplissait les vides de mon isolement et la privation de toute\ncompagnie humaine par sa pr\u00e9sence et par la communication de sa gr\u00e2ce,\nassistant, r\u00e9confortant et encourageant mon \u00e2me \u00e0 se reposer ici-bas sur\nsa providence, et \u00e0 esp\u00e9rer jouir de sa pr\u00e9sence \u00e9ternelle dans l'autre\nvie.\nCe fut alors que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 sentir profond\u00e9ment combien la vie que\nje menais, m\u00eame avec toutes ses circonstances p\u00e9nibles, \u00e9tait plus\nheureuse que la maudite et d\u00e9testable vie que j'avais faite durant toute\nla portion \u00e9coul\u00e9e de mes jours. Mes chagrins et mes joies \u00e9taient\nchang\u00e9s, mes d\u00e9sirs \u00e9taient autres, mes affections n'avaient plus le\nm\u00eame penchant, et mes jouissances \u00e9taient totalement diff\u00e9rentes de ce\nqu'elles \u00e9taient dans les premiers temps de mon s\u00e9jour, ou au fait\npendant les deux ann\u00e9es pass\u00e9es.\nAutrefois, lorsque je sortais, soit pour chasser, soit pour visiter la\ncampagne, l'angoisse que mon \u00e2me ressentait de ma condition se\nr\u00e9veillait tout-\u00e0-coup, et mon c\u0153ur d\u00e9faillait en ma poitrine, \u00e0 la\nseule pens\u00e9e que j'\u00e9tais en ces bois, ces montagnes ces solitudes, et\nque j'\u00e9tais un prisonnier sans ran\u00e7on, enferm\u00e9 dans un morne d\u00e9sert par\nl'\u00e9ternelle barri\u00e8re de l'Oc\u00e9an. Au milieu de mes plus grands calmes\nd'esprit, cette pens\u00e9e fondait sur moi comme un orage et me faisait\ntordre mes mains et pleurer comme un enfant. Quelquefois elle me\nsurprenait au fort de mon travail, je m'asseyais aussit\u00f4t, je soupirais,\net durant une heure ou deux, les yeux fich\u00e9s en terre, je restais l\u00e0.\nMon mal n'en devenait que plus cuisant. Si j'avais pu d\u00e9bonder en\nlarmes, \u00e9clater en paroles, il se serait dissip\u00e9, et la douleur, apr\u00e8s\nm'avoir \u00e9puis\u00e9, se serait elle-m\u00eame abattue.\nMais alors je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 me repa\u00eetre de nouvelles pens\u00e9es. Je lisais\nchaque jour la parole de Dieu, et j'en appliquais toutes les\nconsolations \u00e0 mon \u00e9tat pr\u00e9sent. Un matin que j'\u00e9tais fort triste,\nj'ouvris la Bible \u00e0 ce passage:--\u00abJamais, jamais, je ne te d\u00e9laisserai;\nje ne t'abandonnerai jamais!\u00bb--Imm\u00e9diatement il me sembla que ces mots\ns'adressaient \u00e0 moi; pourquoi autrement m'auraient-ils \u00e9t\u00e9 envoy\u00e9s juste\nau moment o\u00f9 je me d\u00e9solais sur ma situation, comme un \u00eatre abandonn\u00e9 de\nDieu et des hommes?--\u00abEh bien! me dis-je, si Dieu ne me d\u00e9laisse point,\nque m'importe que tout le monde me d\u00e9laisse! puisque, au contraire, si\nj'avais le monde entier, et que je perdisse la faveur et les\nb\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu, rien ne pourrait contrebalancer cette perte.\u00bb\nD\u00e8s ce moment-l\u00e0 j'arr\u00eatai en mon esprit qu'il m'\u00e9tait possible d'\u00eatre\nplus heureux dans cette condition solitaire que je ne l'eusse jamais \u00e9t\u00e9\ndans le monde en toute autre position. Entra\u00een\u00e9 par cette pens\u00e9e,\nj'allais remercier le Seigneur de m'avoir rel\u00e9gu\u00e9 en ce lieu.\nMais \u00e0 cette pens\u00e9e quelque chose, je ne sais ce que ce fut, me frappa\nl'esprit et m'arr\u00eata.--\u00abComment peux-tu \u00eatre assez hypocrite,\nm'\u00e9criai-je, pour te pr\u00e9tendre reconnaissant d'une condition dont tu\nt'efforces de te satisfaire, bien qu'au fond du c\u0153ur tu prierais plut\u00f4t\npour en \u00eatre d\u00e9livrer?\u00bb Ainsi j'en restai l\u00e0. Mais quoique je n'eusse pu\nremercier Dieu de mon exil, toutefois je lui rendis gr\u00e2ce sinc\u00e8rement de\nm'avoir ouvert les yeux par des afflictions providentielles afin que je\npusse reconna\u00eetre ma vie pass\u00e9e, pleurer sur mes fautes et me\nrepentir.--Je n'ouvrais jamais la Bible ni ne la fermais sans\nqu'int\u00e9rieurement mon \u00e2me ne b\u00e9nit Dieu d'avoir inspir\u00e9 la pens\u00e9e \u00e0 mon\nami d'Angleterre d'emballer, sans aucun avis de moi, ce saint livre\nparmi mes marchandises, et d'avoir permis que plus tard je le sauvasse\ndes d\u00e9bris du navire.\nLE GIBET\nCe fut dans cette disposition d'esprit que je commen\u00e7ai ma troisi\u00e8me\nann\u00e9e; et, quoique je ne veuille point fatiguer le lecteur d'une\nrelation aussi circonstanci\u00e9e de mes travaux de cette ann\u00e9e que de ceux\nde la premi\u00e8re, cependant il est bon qu'il soit en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral remarqu\u00e9 que\nje demeurais tr\u00e8s-rarement oisif. Je r\u00e9partissais r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement mon\ntemps entre toutes les occupations quotidiennes que je m'\u00e9tais impos\u00e9es.\nTels \u00e9taient premi\u00e8rement mes devoirs envers Dieu et la lecture des\nSaintes-\u00c9critures, auxquels je vaquais sans faute, quelquefois m\u00eame\njusqu'\u00e0 trois fois par jour; secondement ma promenade avec mon mousquet\n\u00e0 la recherche de ma nourriture, ce qui me prenait g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement trois\nheures de la matin\u00e9e quand il ne pleuvait pas; troisi\u00e8mement\nl'arrangement, l'appr\u00eat, la conservation et la cuisson de ce que j'avais\ntu\u00e9 pour ma subsistance. Tout ceci employait en grande partie ma\njourn\u00e9e. En outre, il doit \u00eatre consid\u00e9r\u00e9 que dans le milieu du jour,\nlorsque le soleil \u00e9tait \u00e0 son z\u00e9nith, la chaleur \u00e9tait trop accablante\npour agir: en sorte qu'on doit supposer que dans l'apr\u00e8s-midi tout mon\ntemps de travail n'\u00e9tait que de quatre heures environ, avec cette\nvariante que parfois je changeais mes heures de travail et de chasse,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire que je travaillais dans la matin\u00e9e et sortais avec mon\nmousquet sur le soir.\n\u00c0 cette bri\u00e8vet\u00e9 du temps fix\u00e9 pour le travail, veuillez ajouter\nl'excessive difficult\u00e9 de ma besogne, et toutes les heures que, par\nmanque d'outils, par manque d'aide et par manque d'habilet\u00e9, chaque\nchose que j'entreprenais me faisait perdre. Par exemple je fus\nquarante-deux jours entiers \u00e0 me fa\u00e7onner une planche de tablette dont\nj'avais besoin dans ma grotte, tandis que deux scieurs avec leurs outils\net leurs tr\u00e9teaux, en une demi-journ\u00e9e en auraient tir\u00e9 six d'un seul\narbre.\nVoici comment je m'y pris: j'abattis un gros arbre de la largeur que ma\nplanche devait avoir. Il me fallut trois jours pour le couper et deux\npour l'\u00e9brancher et en faire une pi\u00e8ce de charpente. \u00c0 force de hacher\net de tailler je r\u00e9duisis les deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s en copeaux, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'elle\nf\u00fbt assez l\u00e9g\u00e8re pour \u00eatre remu\u00e9e. Alors je la tournai et je corroyai\nune de ses faces, comme une planche, d'un bout \u00e0 l'autre; puis je\ntournai ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 dessous et je la b\u00fbchai sur l'autre face jusqu'\u00e0 ce\nqu'elle f\u00fbt r\u00e9duite \u00e0 un madrier de trois pouces d'\u00e9paisseur environ. Il\nn'y a personne qui ne puisse juger quelle rude besogne c'\u00e9tait pour mes\nmains; mais le travail et la patience m'en faisaient venir \u00e0 bout comme\nde bien d'autres choses; j'ai seulement cit\u00e9 cette particularit\u00e9 pour\nmontrer comment une si grande portion de mon temps s'\u00e9coulait \u00e0 faire si\npeu d'ouvrage; c'est-\u00e0-dire que telle besogne, qui pourrait n'\u00eatre rien\nquand on a de l'aide et des outils, devient un \u00e9norme travail, et\ndemande un temps prodigieux pour l'ex\u00e9cuter seulement avec ses mains.\nMais, nonobstant, avec de la pers\u00e9v\u00e9rance et de la peine, j'achevai bien\ndes choses, et, au fait, toutes les choses que ma position exigeait que\nje fisse, comme il appara\u00eetra par ce qui suit.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors dans les mois de novembre et de d\u00e9cembre, attendant ma\nr\u00e9colte d'orge et de riz. Le terrain que j'avais labour\u00e9 ou b\u00each\u00e9\nn'\u00e9tait pas grand; car, ainsi que je l'ai fait observer, mes semailles\nde chaque esp\u00e8ce n'\u00e9quivalaient pas \u00e0 un demi-picotin, parce que j'avais\nperdu toute une moisson pour avoir ensemenc\u00e9 dans la saison s\u00e8che.\nToutefois, la moisson promettait d'\u00eatre belle, quand je m'apper\u00e7us\ntout-\u00e0-coup que j'\u00e9tais en danger de la voir d\u00e9truite enti\u00e8rement par\ndivers ennemis dont il \u00e9tait \u00e0 peine possible de se garder: d'abord par\nles boucs, et ces animaux sauvages que j'ai nomm\u00e9s li\u00e8vres, qui, ayant\nt\u00e2t\u00e9 du go\u00fbt exquis du bl\u00e9, s'y tapissaient nuit et jour, et le\nbroutaient \u00e0 mesure qu'il poussait, et si pr\u00e8s du pied qu'il n'aurait\npas eu le temps de monter en \u00e9pis.\nJe ne vis d'autre rem\u00e8de \u00e0 ce mal que d'entourer mon bl\u00e9 d'une haie, qui\nme co\u00fbta beaucoup de peines, et d'autant plus que cela requ\u00e9rait\nc\u00e9l\u00e9rit\u00e9, car les animaux ne cessaient point de faire du ravage.\nN\u00e9anmoins, comme ma terre en labour \u00e9tait petite en raison de ma\nsemaille, en trois semaines environ je parvins \u00e0 la clore totalement.\nPendant le jour je faisais feu sur ces maraudeurs, et la nuit je leur\nopposais mon chien, que j'attachais dehors \u00e0 un poteau, et qui ne\ncessait d'aboyer. En peu de temps les ennemis abandonn\u00e8rent donc la\nplace, et ma moisson cr\u00fbt belle et bien, et commen\u00e7a bient\u00f4t \u00e0 m\u00fbrir.\nMais si les b\u00eates avaient ravag\u00e9 mon bl\u00e9 en herbe, les oiseaux me\nmenac\u00e8rent d'une nouvelle ruine quand il fut mont\u00e9 en \u00e9pis. Un jour que\nje longeais mon champ pour voir comment cela allait, j'apper\u00e7us une\nmultitude d'oiseaux, je ne sais pas de combien de sortes, qui\nentouraient ma petite moisson, et qui semblaient \u00e9pier l'instant o\u00f9 je\npartirais. Je fis aussit\u00f4t une d\u00e9charge sur eux,--car je sortais\ntoujours avec mon mousquet.--\u00c0 peine eus-je tir\u00e9, qu'une nu\u00e9e d'oiseaux\nque je n'avais point vus s'\u00e9leva du milieu m\u00eame des bl\u00e9s.\nJe fus profond\u00e9ment navr\u00e9: je pr\u00e9vis qu'en peu de jours ils d\u00e9truiraient\ntoutes mes esp\u00e9rances, que je tomberais dans la disette, et que je ne\npourrais jamais amener \u00e0 bien une moisson. Et je ne savais que faire \u00e0\ncela! Je r\u00e9solus pourtant de sauver mon grain s'il \u00e9tait possible, quand\nbien m\u00eame je devrais faire sentinelle jour et nuit. Avant tout j'entrai\ndans la pi\u00e8ce pour reconna\u00eetre le dommage d\u00e9j\u00e0 existant, et je vis\nqu'ils en avaient g\u00e2t\u00e9 une bonne partie, mais que cependant, comme il\n\u00e9tait encore trop vert pour eux, la perte n'\u00e9tait pas extr\u00eame, et que le\nreste donnerait une bonne moisson, si je pouvais le pr\u00e9server.\nJe m'arr\u00eatai un instant pour recharger mon mousquet, puis, m'avan\u00e7ant un\npeu, je pus voir ais\u00e9ment mes larrons branch\u00e9s sur touts les arbres\nd'alentour, semblant attendre mon d\u00e9part, ce que l'\u00e9v\u00e8nement confirma;\ncar, m'\u00e9cartant de quelques pas comme si je m'en allais, je ne fus pas\nplus t\u00f4t hors de leur vue qu'ils s'abattirent de nouveau un \u00e0 un dans\nles bl\u00e9s. J'\u00e9tais si vex\u00e9, que je n'eus pas la patience d'attendre\nqu'ils fussent touts descendus; je sentais que chaque grain \u00e9tait pour\nainsi dire une miche qu'ils me d\u00e9voraient. Je me rapprochai de la haie,\nje fis feu de nouveau et j'en tuai trois. C'\u00e9tait justement ce que je\nsouhaitais; je les ramassai, je fis d'eux comme on fait des insignes\nvoleurs en Angleterre, je les pendis \u00e0 un gibet pour la terreur des\nautres. On n'imaginerait pas quel bon effet cela produisit:\nnon-seulement les oiseaux ne revinrent plus dans les bl\u00e9s, mais ils\n\u00e9migr\u00e8rent de toute cette partie de l'\u00eele, et je n'en vis jamais un seul\naux environs tout le temps que pendirent mes \u00e9pouvantails.\nJe fus extr\u00eamement content de cela, comme on peut en avoir l'assurance;\net sur la fin de d\u00e9cembre, qui est le temps de la seconde moisson de\nl'ann\u00e9e, je fis la r\u00e9colte de mon bl\u00e9.\nJ'\u00e9tais pitoyablement outill\u00e9 pour cela; je n'avais ni faux ni faucille\npour le couper; tout ce que je pus faire ce fut d'en fabriquer une de\nmon mieux avec un des braquemarts ou coutelas que j'avais sauv\u00e9s du\nb\u00e2timent parmi d'autres armes. Mais comme ma moisson \u00e9tait petite, je\nn'eus pas grande difficult\u00e9 \u00e0 la recueillir. Bref, je la fis \u00e0 ma\nmani\u00e8re car je sciai les \u00e9pis, je les emportai dans une grande corbeille\nque j'avais tress\u00e9e, et je les \u00e9grainai entre mes mains. \u00c0 la fin de\ntoute ma r\u00e9colte, je trouvai que le demi-picotin que j'avais sem\u00e9\nm'avait produit pr\u00e8s de deux boisseaux de riz et environ deux boisseaux\net demi d'orge, autant que je pus en juger, puisque je n'avais alors\naucune mesure.\nCeci fut pour moi un grand sujet d'encouragement; je pressentis qu'\u00e0\nl'avenir il plairait \u00e0 Dieu que je ne manquasse pas de pain. Toutefois\nje n'\u00e9tais pas encore hors d'embarras: je ne savais comment moudre ou\ncomment faire de la farine de mon grain, comment le vanner et le bluter;\nni m\u00eame, si je parvenais \u00e0 le mettre en farine, comment je pourrais en\nfaire du pain; et enfin, si je parvenais \u00e0 en faire du pain, comment je\npourrais le faire cuire. Toutes ces difficult\u00e9s, jointes au d\u00e9sir que\nj'avais d'avoir une grande quantit\u00e9 de provisions, et de m'assurer\nconstamment ma subsistance, me firent prendre la r\u00e9solution de ne point\ntoucher \u00e0 cette r\u00e9colte, de la conserver tout enti\u00e8re pour les semailles\nde la saison prochaine, et, \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque, de consacrer toute mon\napplication et toutes mes heures de travail \u00e0 accomplir le grand \u0153uvre\nde me pourvoir de bl\u00e9 et de pain.\nC'est alors que je pouvais dire avec v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que je travaillais pour mon\npain. N'est-ce pas chose \u00e9tonnante, et \u00e0 laquelle peu de personnes\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chissent, l'\u00e9norme multitude d'objets n\u00e9cessaires pour\nentreprendre, produire, soigner, pr\u00e9parer, faire et achever _une\nparcelle de pain_.\nMoi, qui \u00e9tais r\u00e9duit \u00e0 l'\u00e9tat de pure nature, je sentais que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0\nmon d\u00e9couragement de chaque jour, et d'heure en heure cela m'\u00e9tait\ndevenu plus \u00e9vident, d\u00e8s lors m\u00eame que j'eus recueilli la poign\u00e9e de bl\u00e9\nqui, comme je l'ai dit, avait cr\u00fb d'une fa\u00e7on si inattendue et si\n\u00e9merveillante.\nPremi\u00e8rement je n'avais point de charrue pour labourer la terre, ni de\nb\u00eache ou de pelle pour la fouir. Il est vrai que je suppl\u00e9ai \u00e0 cela en\nfabriquant une pelle de bois dont j'ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, mais elle\nfaisait ma besogne grossi\u00e8rement; et, quoiqu'elle m'e\u00fbt co\u00fbt\u00e9 un grand\nnombre de jours, comme la pell\u00e2tre n'\u00e9tait point garnie de fer,\nnon-seulement elle s'usa plus t\u00f4t, mais elle rendait mon travail plus\np\u00e9nible et tr\u00e8s-imparfait.\nMais, r\u00e9sign\u00e9 \u00e0 tout, je travaillais avec patience, et l'insucc\u00e8s ne me\nrebutait point. Quand mon bl\u00e9 fut sem\u00e9, je n'avais point de herse, je\nfus oblig\u00e9 de passer dessus moi-m\u00eame et de tra\u00eener une grande et lourde\nbranche derri\u00e8re moi, avec laquelle, pour ainsi dire, j'\u00e9gratignais la\nterre plut\u00f4t que je ne la hersais ou ratissais.\nQuand il fut en herbe ou mont\u00e9 en \u00e9pis, comme je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait\nobserver, de combien de choses n'eus-je pas besoin pour l'enclorre, le\npr\u00e9server, le faucher, le moissonner, le transporter au logis, le\nbattre, le vanner et le serrer. Ensuite il me fallut un moulin pour le\nmoudre, des sas pour bluter la farine, du levain et du sel pour p\u00e9trir;\net enfin un four pour faire cuire le pain, ainsi qu'on pourra le voir\ndans la suite. Je fus r\u00e9duit \u00e0 faire toutes ces choses sans aucun de ces\ninstruments, et cependant mon bl\u00e9 fut pour moi une source de bien-\u00eatre\net de consolation. Ce manque d'instruments, je le r\u00e9p\u00e8te, me rendait\ntoute op\u00e9ration lente et p\u00e9nible, mais il n'y avait \u00e0 cela point de\nrem\u00e8de. D'ailleurs, mon temps \u00e9tant divis\u00e9, je ne pouvais le perdre\nenti\u00e8rement. Une portion de chaque jour \u00e9tait donc affect\u00e9e \u00e0 ces\nouvrages; et, comme j'avais r\u00e9solu de ne point faire du pain de mon bl\u00e9\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'en eusse une grande provision, j'avais les six mois\nprochains pour appliquer tout mon travail et toute mon industrie \u00e0 me\nfournir d'ustensiles n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 la manutention des grains que je\nrecueillerais pour mon usage.\nIl me fallut d'abord pr\u00e9parer un terrain plus grand; j'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 assez\nde grains pour ensemencer un acre de terre; mais avant que\nd'entreprendre ceci je passai au moins une semaine \u00e0 me fabriquer une\nb\u00eache, une triste b\u00eache en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, et si pesante que mon ouvrage en\n\u00e9tait une fois plus p\u00e9nible.\nLA POTERIE\nN\u00e9anmoins je passai outre, et j'emblavai deux pi\u00e8ces de terre plates et\nunies aussi proche de ma maison que je le jugeai convenable, et je les\nentourai d'une bonne cl\u00f4ture dont les pieux \u00e9taient faits du m\u00eame bois\nque j'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 plant\u00e9, et qui drageonnait. Je savais qu'au bout d'une\nann\u00e9e j'aurais une haie vive qui n'exigerait que peu d'entretien. Cet\nouvrage ne m'occupa gu\u00e8re moins de trois mois, parce qu'une grande\npartie de ce temps se trouva dans la saison pluvieuse, qui ne me\npermettait pas de sortir.\nC'est au logis, tandis qu'il pleuvait et que je ne pouvais mettre le\npied dehors, que je m'occupai de la mati\u00e8re qui va suivre, observant\ntoutefois que pendant que j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 l'ouvrage je m'amusais \u00e0 causer avec\nmon perroquet, et \u00e0 lui enseigner \u00e0 parler. Je lui appris promptement \u00e0\nconna\u00eetre son nom, et \u00e0 dire assez distinctement Poll, qui fut le\npremier mot que j'entendis prononcer dans l'\u00eele par une autre bouche que\nla mienne. Ce n'\u00e9tait point l\u00e0 mon travail, mais cela m'aidait beaucoup\n\u00e0 le supporter[25]. Alors, comme je l'ai dit, j'avais une grande affaire\nsur les bras. J'avais song\u00e9 depuis long-temps \u00e0 n'importe quel moyen de\nme fa\u00e7onner quelques vases de terre dont j'avais un besoin extr\u00eame; mais\nje ne savais pas comment y parvenir. N\u00e9anmoins, consid\u00e9rant la chaleur\ndu climat, je ne doutais pas que si je pouvais d\u00e9couvrir de l'argile, je\nn'arrivasse \u00e0 fabriquer un pot qui, s\u00e9ch\u00e9 au soleil, serait assez dur et\nassez fort pour \u00eatre mani\u00e9 et contenir des choses s\u00e8ches qui demandent \u00e0\n\u00eatre gard\u00e9es ainsi; et, comme il me fallait des vaisseaux pour la\npr\u00e9paration du bl\u00e9 et de la farine que j'allais avoir, je r\u00e9solus d'en\nfaire quelques-uns aussi grands que je pourrais, et propres \u00e0 contenir,\ncomme des jarres, tout ce qu'on voudrait y renfermer.\nJe ferais piti\u00e9 au lecteur, ou plut\u00f4t je le ferais rire, si je disais de\ncombien de fa\u00e7ons maladroites je m'y pris pour modeler cette glaise;\ncombien je fis de vases difformes, bizarres et ridicules; combien il\ns'en affaissa, combien il s'en renversa, l'argile n'\u00e9tant pas assez\nferme pour supporter son propre poids; combien, pour les avoir expos\u00e9s\ntrop t\u00f4t, se f\u00eal\u00e8rent \u00e0 l'ardeur du soleil; combien tomb\u00e8rent en pi\u00e8ces\nseulement en les bougeant, soit avant comme soit apr\u00e8s qu'il furent\nsecs; en un mot, comment, apr\u00e8s que j'eus travaill\u00e9 si rudement pour\ntrouver de la glaise, pour l'extraire, l'accommoder, la transporter chez\nmoi, et la modeler, je ne pus fabriquer, en deux mois environ, que deux\ngrandes machines de terre grotesques, que je n'ose appeler jarres.\nToutefois, le soleil les ayant bien cuites et bien durcies, je les\nsoulevai tr\u00e8s-doucement et je les pla\u00e7ai dans deux grands paniers\nd'osier que j'avais faits expr\u00e8s pour qu'elles ne pussent \u00eatre bris\u00e9es;\net, comme entre le pot et le panier il y avait du vide, je le remplis\navec de la paille de riz et d'orge. Je comptais, si ces jarres restaient\ntoujours s\u00e8ches, y serrer mes grains et peut \u00eatre m\u00eame ma farine, quand\nils seraient \u00e9grug\u00e9s.\nBien que pour mes grands vases je me fusse m\u00e9compt\u00e9 grossi\u00e8rement, je\nfis n\u00e9anmoins beaucoup de plus petites choses avec assez de succ\u00e8s,\ntelles que des pots ronds, des assiettes plates, des cruches et des\njattes, que ma main modelait et que la chaleur du soleil cuisait et\ndurcissait \u00e9tonnamment.\nMais tout cela ne r\u00e9pondait point encore \u00e0 mes fins, qui \u00e9taient d'avoir\nun pot pour contenir un liquide et aller au feu, ce qu'aucun de ceux que\nj'avais n'aurait pu faire. Au bout de quelque temps il arriva que, ayant\nfait un assez grand feu pour r\u00f4tir de la viande, au moment o\u00f9 je la\nretirais \u00e9tant cuite, je trouvai dans le foyer un tesson d'un de mes\npots de terre cuit dur comme une pierre et rouge comme une tuile. Je fus\nagr\u00e9ablement surpris du voir cela, et je me dis qu'assur\u00e9ment ma poterie\npourrait se faire cuire en son entier, puisqu'elle cuisait bien en\nmorceaux.\nCette d\u00e9couverte fit que je m'appliquai \u00e0 rechercher comment je pourrais\ndisposer mon feu pour y cuire quelques pots. Je n'avais aucune id\u00e9e du\nfour dont les potiers se servent, ni de leurs vernis, et j'avais\npourtant du plomb pour en faire. Je pla\u00e7ai donc trois grandes cruches et\ndeux ou trois autres pots, en pile les uns sur les autres, sur un gros\ntas de cendres chaudes, et j'allumai un feu de bois tout \u00e0 l'entour.\nJ'entretins le feu sur touts les c\u00f4t\u00e9s et sur le sommet, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que\nj'eusse vu mes pots rouges de part en part et remarqu\u00e9 qu'ils n'\u00e9taient\npoint fendus. Je les maintins \u00e0 ce degr\u00e9 pendant cinq ou six heures\nenviron, au bout desquelles j'en apper\u00e7us un qui, sans \u00eatre f\u00eal\u00e9,\ncommen\u00e7ait \u00e0 fondre et \u00e0 couler. Le sable, m\u00eal\u00e9 \u00e0 la glaise, se\nliqu\u00e9fiait par la violence de la chaleur, et se serait vitrifi\u00e9 si\nj'eusse poursuivi. Je diminuai donc mon brasier graduellement, jusqu'\u00e0\nce que mes pots perdissent leur couleur rouge. Ayant veill\u00e9 toute la\nnuit pour que le feu ne s'abatt\u00eet point trop promptement, au point du\njour je me vis possesseur de trois excellentes... je n'ose pas dire\ncruches, et deux autres pots aussi bien cuits que je pouvais le d\u00e9sirer.\nUn d'entre eux avait \u00e9t\u00e9 parfaitement verni par la fonte du gravier.\nApr\u00e8s cette \u00e9preuve, il n'est pas n\u00e9cessaire de dire que je ne manquai\nplus d'aucun vase pour mon usage; mais je dois avouer que leur forme\n\u00e9tait fort insignifiante, comme on peut le supposer. Je les modelais\nabsolument comme les enfants qui font des boulettes de terre grasse, ou\ncomme une femme qui voudrait faire des p\u00e2t\u00e9s sans avoir jamais appris \u00e0\np\u00e2tisser.\nJamais joie pour une chose si minime n'\u00e9gala celle que je ressentis en\nvoyant que j'avais fait un pot qui pourrait supporter le feu; et \u00e0 peine\neus-je la patience d'attendre qu'il soit tout-\u00e0-fait refroidi pour le\nremettre sur le feu avec un peu d'eau dedans pour bouillir de la viande,\nce qui me r\u00e9ussit admirablement bien. Je fis un excellent bouillon avec\nun morceau de chevreau; cependant je manquais de gruau et de plusieurs\nautres ingr\u00e9dients n\u00e9cessaires pour le rendre aussi bon que j'aurais pu\nl'avoir.\nJ'eus un nouvel embarras pour me procurer un mortier de pierre o\u00f9 je\npusse piler ou \u00e9craser mon grain; quant \u00e0 un moulin, il n'y avait pas\nlieu de penser qu'avec le seul secours de mes mains je parvinsse jamais\n\u00e0 ce degr\u00e9 d'industrie. Pour suppl\u00e9er \u00e0 ce besoin, j'\u00e9tais vraiment\ntr\u00e8s-embarrass\u00e9, car de touts les m\u00e9tiers du monde, le m\u00e9tier de\ntailleur de pierre \u00e9tait celui pour lequel j'avais le moins de\ndispositions; d'ailleurs je n'avais point d'outils pour l'entreprendre.\nJe passai plusieurs jours \u00e0 chercher une grande pierre assez \u00e9paisse\npour la creuser et faire un mortier; mais je n'en trouvai pas, si ce\nn'est dans de solides rochers, et que je ne pouvais ni tailler ni\nextraire. Au fait, il n'y avait point de roches dans l'\u00eele d'une\nsuffisante duret\u00e9, elles \u00e9taient toutes d'une nature sablonneuse et\nfriable, qui n'aurait pu r\u00e9sister aux coups d'un pilon pesant, et le bl\u00e9\nn'aurait pu s'y broyer sans qu'il s'y m\u00eal\u00e2t du sable. Apr\u00e8s avoir perdu\nainsi beaucoup de temps \u00e0 la recherche d'une pierre, je renon\u00e7ai, et je\nme d\u00e9terminai \u00e0 chercher un grand billot de bois dur, que je trouvai\nbeaucoup plus ais\u00e9ment. J'en choisis un si gros qu'\u00e0 peine pouvais-je le\nremuer, je l'arrondis et je le fa\u00e7onnai \u00e0 l'ext\u00e9rieur avec ma hache et\nmon herminette; ensuite, avec une peine infinie, j'y pratiquai un trou,\nau moyen du feu, comme font les Sauvages du Br\u00e9sil pour creuser leurs\npirogues. Je fis enfin une hie ou grand pilon avec de ce bois appel\u00e9\n_bois de fer_, et je mis de c\u00f4t\u00e9 ces instruments en attendant ma\nprochaine r\u00e9colte, apr\u00e8s laquelle je me proposai de moudre mon grain, au\nplut\u00f4t de l'\u00e9gruger, pour faire du pain.\nMa difficult\u00e9 suivante fut celle de faire un sas ou blutoir pour passer\nma farine et la s\u00e9parer du son et de la bale, sans quoi je ne voyais pas\npossibilit\u00e9 que je pusse avoir du pain; cette difficult\u00e9 \u00e9tait si grande\nque je ne voulais pas m\u00eame y songer, assur\u00e9 que j'\u00e9tais de n'avoir rien\nde ce qu'il faut pour faire un tamis; j'entends ni canevas fin et clair,\nni \u00e9toffe \u00e0 bluter la farine \u00e0 travers. J'en restai l\u00e0 pendant plusieurs\nmois; je ne savais vraiment que faire. Le linge qui me restait \u00e9tait en\nhaillons; j'avais bien du poil de ch\u00e8vre, mais je ne savais ni filer ni\ntisser; et, quand m\u00eame je l'eusse su, il me manquait les instruments\nn\u00e9cessaires. Je ne trouvai aucun rem\u00e8de \u00e0 cela. Seulement je me\nressouvins qu'il y avait parmi les hardes de matelots que j'avais\nemport\u00e9es du navire quelques cravates de calicot ou de mousseline. J'en\npris plusieurs morceaux, et je fis trois petits sas, assez propre \u00e0 leur\nusage. Je fus ainsi pourvu pour quelques ann\u00e9es. On verra en son lieu ce\nque j'y substituai plus tard.\nJ'avais ensuite \u00e0 songer \u00e0 la boulangerie, et comment je pourrais faire\nle pain quand je viendrais \u00e0 avoir du bl\u00e9; d'abord je n'avais point de\nlevain. Comme rien ne pouvait suppl\u00e9er \u00e0 cette absence, je ne m'en\nembarrassai pas beaucoup. Quant au four, j'\u00e9tais vraiment en grande\npeine.\n\u00c0 la fin je trouvai l'exp\u00e9dient que voici: je fis quelques vases de\nterre tr\u00e8s-larges et peu profonds, c'est-\u00e0-dire qui avaient environ deux\npieds de diam\u00e8tre et neuf pouces seulement de profondeur; je les cuisis\ndans le feu, comme j'avais fait des autres, et je les mis ensuite \u00e0\npart. Quand j'avais besoin de cuire, j'allumais d'abord un grand feu sur\nmon \u00e2tre, qui \u00e9tait pav\u00e9 de briques carr\u00e9es de ma propre fabrique; je\nn'affirmerais pas toutefois qu'elles fussent parfaitement carr\u00e9es.\nQuand le feu de bois \u00e9tait \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s tomb\u00e9 en cendres et en charbons\nardents, je les \u00e9parpillais sur l'\u00e2tre, de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 le couvrir\nenti\u00e8rement, et je les y laissais jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il f\u00fbt tr\u00e8s-chaud. Alors\nj'en balayais toutes les cendres, je posais ma miche ou mes miches que\nje couvrais d'une jatte de terre, autour de laquelle je relevais les\ncendres pour conserver et augmenter la chaleur. De cette mani\u00e8re, aussi\nbien que dans le meilleur four du monde, je cuisais mes pains d'orge, et\ndevins en tr\u00e8s-peu de temps un vrai p\u00e2tissier; car je fis des g\u00e2teaux de\nriz et des _poudings_. Toutefois je n'allai point jusqu'aux p\u00e2t\u00e9s: je\nn'aurais rien eu \u00e0 y mettre, supposant que j'en eusse fait, si ce n'est\nde la chair d'oiseaux et de la viande de ch\u00e8vre.\nOn ne s'\u00e9tonnera point de ce que toutes ces choses me prirent une grande\npartie de la troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon s\u00e9jour dans l'\u00eele, si l'on consid\u00e8re\nque dans l'intervalle de toutes ces choses j'eus \u00e0 faire mon labourage\net une nouvelle moisson. En effet, je r\u00e9coltai mon bl\u00e9 dans sa saison,\nje le transportai au logis du mieux que je pouvais, et je le conservai\nen \u00e9pis dans une grande manne jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'eusse le temps de\nl'\u00e9grainer, puisque je n'avais ni aire ni fl\u00e9au pour le battre.\nL'accroissement de mes r\u00e9coltes me n\u00e9cessita r\u00e9ellement alors \u00e0 agrandir\nma grange. Je manquais d'emplacement pour les serrer; car mes semailles\nm'avaient rapport\u00e9 au moins vingt boisseaux d'orge et tout au moins\nautant de riz; si bien que d\u00e8s lors je r\u00e9solus de commencer \u00e0 en user \u00e0\ndiscr\u00e9tion: mon biscuit depuis long-temps \u00e9tait achev\u00e9. Je r\u00e9solus aussi\nde m'assurer de la quantit\u00e9 qu'il me fallait pour toute mon ann\u00e9e, et si\nje ne pourrais pas ne faire qu'une seule semaille.\nLA PIROGUE\nSomme toute, je reconnus que quarante boisseaux d'orge et de riz \u00e9taient\nplus que je n'en pouvais consommer dans un an. Je me d\u00e9terminai donc \u00e0\nsemer chaque ann\u00e9e juste la m\u00eame quantit\u00e9 que la derni\u00e8re fois, dans\nl'esp\u00e9rance qu'elle pourrait largement me pourvoir de pain.\nTandis que toutes ces choses se faisaient, mes pens\u00e9es, comme on peut le\ncroire, se report\u00e8rent plusieurs fois sur la d\u00e9couverte de la terre que\nj'avais apper\u00e7ue de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele. Je n'\u00e9tais pas sans quelques\nd\u00e9sirs secrets d'aller sur ce rivage, imaginant que je voyais la terre\nferme, et une contr\u00e9e habit\u00e9e d'o\u00f9 je pourrais d'une fa\u00e7on ou d'une\nautre me transporter plus loin, et peut-\u00eatre trouver enfin quelques\nmoyens de salut.\nMais dans tout ce raisonnement je ne tenais aucun compte des dangers\nd'une telle entreprise dans le cas o\u00f9 je viendrais \u00e0 tomber entre les\nmains des Sauvages, qui pouvaient \u00eatre, comme j'aurais eu raison de le\npenser, plus f\u00e9roces que les lions et les tigres de l'Afrique. Une fois\nen leur pouvoir, il y avait, mille chances \u00e0 courir contre une qu'ils me\ntueraient et sans doute me mangeraient. J'avais ou\u00ef dire que les peuples\nde la c\u00f4te des Cara\u00efbes \u00e9taient cannibales ou mangeurs d'hommes, et je\njugeais par la latitude que je ne devais pas \u00eatre fort \u00e9loign\u00e9 de cette\nc\u00f4te. Supposant que ces nations ne fussent point cannibales, elles\nauraient pu n\u00e9anmoins me tuer, comme cela \u00e9tait advenu \u00e0 d'autres\nEurop\u00e9ens qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 pris, quoiqu'ils fussent au nombre de dix et\nm\u00eame de vingt, et elles l'auraient pu d'autant plus facilement que\nj'\u00e9tais seul, et ne pouvais opposer que peu ou point de r\u00e9sistance.\nToutes ces choses, dis-je, que j'aurais d\u00fb m\u00fbrement consid\u00e9rer et qui\nplus tard se pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent \u00e0 mon esprit, ne me donn\u00e8rent premi\u00e8rement\naucune appr\u00e9hension, ma t\u00eate ne roulait que la pens\u00e9e d'aborder \u00e0 ce\nrivage.\nC'est ici que je regrettai mon gar\u00e7on Xury, et mon long bateau avec sa\nvoile _d'\u00e9paule de mouton,_ sur lequel j'avais navigu\u00e9 plus de neuf\ncents milles le long de la c\u00f4te d'Afrique; mais c'\u00e9tait un regret\nsuperflu. Je m'avisai alors d'aller visiter la chaloupe de notre navire,\nqui, comme je l'ai dit, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 lanc\u00e9e au loin sur la rive durant la\ntemp\u00eate, lors de notre naufrage. Elle se trouvait encore \u00e0 peu de chose\npr\u00e8s dans la m\u00eame situation: renvers\u00e9e par la force des vagues et des\nvents, elle \u00e9tait presque sens dessus dessous sur l'\u00e9minence d'une\nlongue dune de gros sable, mais elle n'\u00e9tait point entour\u00e9e d'eau comme\nauparavant.\nSi j'avais eu quelque aide pour le radouber et le lancer \u00e0 la mer, ce\nbateau m'aurait suffi, et j'aurais pu retourner au Br\u00e9sil assez\nais\u00e9ment; mais j'eusse d\u00fb pr\u00e9voir qu'il ne me serait pas plus possible\nde le retourner et de le remettre sur son fond que de remuer l'\u00eele.\nJ'allai n\u00e9anmoins dans les bois, et je coupai des leviers et des\nrouleaux, que j'apportai pr\u00e8s de la chaloupe, d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 essayer ce que\nje pourrais faire, et persuad\u00e9 que si je parvenais \u00e0 la redresser il me\nserait facile de r\u00e9parer le dommage qu'elle avait re\u00e7u, et d'en faire\nune excellente embarcation, dans laquelle je pourrais sans crainte aller\n\u00e0 la mer.\nAu fait je n'\u00e9pargnai point les peines dans cette infructueuse besogne,\net j'y employai, je pense, trois ou quatre semaines environ. Enfin,\nreconnaissant qu'il \u00e9tait impossible \u00e0 mes faibles forces de la\nsoulever, je me mis \u00e0 creuser le sable en dessous pour la d\u00e9gager et la\nfaire tomber; et je pla\u00e7ai des pi\u00e8ces de bois pour la retenir et la\nguider convenablement dans sa chute.\nMais quand j'eus fait cette fouille, je fus encore hors d'\u00e9tat de\nl'\u00e9branler et de p\u00e9n\u00e9trer en dessous, bien loin de pouvoir la pousser\njusqu'\u00e0 l'eau. Je fus donc forc\u00e9 de l'abandonner; et cependant bien que\nje d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rasse de cette chaloupe, mon d\u00e9sir de m'aventurer sur mer pour\ngagner le continent augmentait plut\u00f4t qu'il ne d\u00e9croissait, au fur et \u00e0\nmesure que la chose m'apparaissait plus impraticable.\nCela m'amena enfin \u00e0 penser s'il ne serait pas possible de me\nconstruire, seul et sans outils, avec le tronc d'un grand arbre, une\npirogue toute semblable \u00e0 celles que font les naturels de ces climats.\nJe reconnus que c'\u00e9tait non-seulement faisable, mais ais\u00e9. Ce projet me\nsouriait infiniment, avec l'id\u00e9e surtout que j'avais en main plus de\nressources pour l'ex\u00e9cuter qu'aucun N\u00e8gre ou Indien; mais je ne\nconsid\u00e9rais nullement les inconv\u00e9nients particuliers qui me pla\u00e7aient\nau-dessous d'eux; par exemple le manque d'aide pour mettre ma pirogue \u00e0\nla mer quand elle serait achev\u00e9e, obstacle beaucoup plus difficile \u00e0\nsurmonter pour moi que toutes les cons\u00e9quences du manque d'outils ne\npouvaient l'\u00eatre pour les Indiens. Effectivement, que devait me servir\nd'avoir choisi un gros arbre dans les bois, d'avoir pu \u00e0 grande peine le\njeter bas, si apr\u00e8s l'avoir fa\u00e7onn\u00e9 avec mes outils, si apr\u00e8s lui avoir\ndonn\u00e9 la forme ext\u00e9rieure d'un canot, l'avoir br\u00fbl\u00e9 ou taill\u00e9 en dedans\npour le creuser, pour en faire une embarcation; si apr\u00e8s tout cela,\ndis-je, il me fallait l'abandonner dans l'endroit m\u00eame o\u00f9 je l'aurais\ntrouv\u00e9, incapable de le mettre \u00e0 la mer.\nIl est croyable que si j'eusse fait la moindre r\u00e9flexion sur ma\nsituation tandis que je construisais ma pirogue, j'aurais imm\u00e9diatement\nsong\u00e9 au moyen de la lancer \u00e0 l'eau; mais j'\u00e9tais si pr\u00e9occup\u00e9 de mon\nvoyage, que je ne consid\u00e9rai pas une seule fois comment je la\ntransporterais; et vraiment elle \u00e9tait de nature \u00e0 ce qu'il f\u00fbt pour moi\nplus facile de lui faire franchir en mer quarante-cinq milles, que du\nlieu o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait quarante-cinq brasses pour la mettre \u00e0 flot.\nJ'entrepris ce bateau plus follement que ne fit jamais homme ayant ses\nsens \u00e9veill\u00e9s. Je me complaisais dans ce dessein, sans d\u00e9terminer si\nj'\u00e9tais capable de le conduire \u00e0 bonne fin, non pas que la difficult\u00e9 de\nle lancer ne me v\u00eent souvent en t\u00eate; mais je tranchais court \u00e0 tout\nexamen par cette r\u00e9ponse insens\u00e9e que je m'adressais:--\u00abAllons,\nfaisons-le d'abord; \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr je trouverai moyen d'une fa\u00e7on ou d'une\nautre de le mettre \u00e0 flot quand il sera fait.\u00bb\nC'\u00e9tait bien la plus absurde m\u00e9thode; mais mon id\u00e9e opini\u00e2tre pr\u00e9valait:\nje me mis \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre et j'abattis un c\u00e8dre. Je doute beaucoup que Salomon\nen ait eu jamais un pareil pour la construction du temple de J\u00e9rusalem.\nIl avait cinq pieds dix pouces de diam\u00e8tre pr\u00e8s de la souche et quatre\npieds onze pouces \u00e0 la distance de vingt-deux pieds, apr\u00e8s quoi il\ndiminuait un peu et se partageait en branches. Ce ne fut pas sans un\ntravail infini que je jetai par terre cet arbre; car je fus vingt jours\n\u00e0 le hacher et le tailler au pied, et, avec une peine indicible,\nquatorze jours \u00e0 s\u00e9parer \u00e0 coups de hache sa t\u00eate vaste et touffue. Je\npassai un mois \u00e0 le fa\u00e7onner, \u00e0 le mettre en proportion et \u00e0 lui faire\nune esp\u00e8ce de car\u00e8ne semblable \u00e0 celle d'un bateau, afin qu'il p\u00fbt\nflotter droit sur sa quille et convenablement. Il me fallut ensuite pr\u00e8s\nde trois mois pour \u00e9vider l'int\u00e9rieur et le travailler de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 en\nfaire une parfaite embarcation. En v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je vins \u00e0 bout de cette\nop\u00e9ration sans employer le feu, seulement avec un maillet et un ciseau\net l'ardeur d'un rude travail qui ne me quitta pas, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'en\neusse fait une belle pirogue assez grande pour recevoir vingt-six\nhommes, et par cons\u00e9quent bien assez grande pour me transporter moi et\ntoute ma cargaison.\nQuand j'eus achev\u00e9 cet ouvrage j'en ressentis une joie extr\u00eame: au fait,\nc'\u00e9tait la plus grande pirogue d'une seule pi\u00e8ce que j'eusse vue de ma\nvie. Mais, vous le savez, que de rudes coups ne m'avait-elle pas co\u00fbt\u00e9!\nIl ne me restait plus qu'\u00e0 la lancer \u00e0 la mer; et, si j'y fusse parvenu,\nje ne fais pas de doute que je n'eusse commenc\u00e9 le voyage le plus\ninsens\u00e9 et le plus aventureux qui f\u00fbt jamais entrepris.\nMais touts mes exp\u00e9dients pour l'amener jusqu'\u00e0 l'eau avort\u00e8rent, bien\nqu'ils m'eussent aussi co\u00fbt\u00e9 un travail infini, et qu'elle ne f\u00fbt\n\u00e9loign\u00e9e de la mer que de cent verges tout au plus. Comme premier\ninconv\u00e9nient, elle \u00e9tait sur une \u00e9minence \u00e0 pic du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la baie.\nNonobstant, pour aplanir cet obstacle, je r\u00e9solus de creuser la surface\ndu terrain en pente douce. Je me mis donc \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre. Que de sueurs cela\nme co\u00fbta! Mais compte-t-on ses peines quand on a sa libert\u00e9 en vue?\nCette besogne achev\u00e9e et cette difficult\u00e9 vaincue, une plus grande\nexistait encore, car il ne m'\u00e9tait pas plus possible de remuer cette\npirogue qu'il ne me l'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de remuer la chaloupe.\nAlors je mesurai la longueur du terrain, et je me d\u00e9terminai \u00e0 ouvrir\nune darce ou canal pour amener la mer jusqu'\u00e0 la pirogue, puisque je ne\npouvais pas amener ma pirogue jusqu'\u00e0 la mer. Soit! Je me mis donc \u00e0 la\nbesogne; et quand j'eus commenc\u00e9 et calcul\u00e9 la profondeur et la longueur\nqu'il fallait que je lui donnasse, et de quelle mani\u00e8re j'enl\u00e8verais les\nd\u00e9blais, je reconnus que, n'ayant de ressources qu'en mes bras et en\nmoi-m\u00eame, il me faudrait dix ou douze ann\u00e9es pour en venir \u00e0 bout; car\nle rivage \u00e9tait si \u00e9lev\u00e9, que l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 sup\u00e9rieure de mon bassin\naurait d\u00fb \u00eatre profonde de vingt-deux pieds tout au moins. Enfin,\nquoique \u00e0 regret, j'abandonnai donc aussi ce dessein.\nJ'en fus vraiment navr\u00e9, et je compris alors, mais trop tard, quelle\nfolie c'\u00e9tait d'entreprendre un ouvrage avant d'en avoir calcul\u00e9 les\nfrais et d'avoir bien jug\u00e9 si nos propres forces pourraient le mener \u00e0\nbonne fin.\nAu milieu de cette besogne je finis ma quatri\u00e8me ann\u00e9e dans l'\u00eele, et\nj'en c\u00e9l\u00e9brai l'anniversaire avec la m\u00eame d\u00e9votion et tout autant de\nsatisfaction que les ann\u00e9es pr\u00e9c\u00e9dentes; car, par une \u00e9tude constante et\nune s\u00e9rieuse application de la parole de Dieu et par le secours de sa\ngr\u00e2ce, j'acqu\u00e9rais une science bien diff\u00e9rente de celle que je poss\u00e9dais\nautrefois, et j'appr\u00e9ciais tout autrement les choses: je consid\u00e9rais\nalors le monde comme une terre lointaine o\u00f9 je n'avais rien \u00e0 souhaiter,\nrien \u00e0 d\u00e9sirer; d'o\u00f9 je n'avais rien \u00e0 attendre, en un mot avec laquelle\nje n'avais rien et vraisemblablement ne devais plus rien avoir \u00e0 faire.\nJe pense que je le regardais comme peut-\u00eatre le regarderons-nous apr\u00e8s\ncette vie, je veux dire ainsi qu'un lieu o\u00f9 j'avais v\u00e9cu, mais d'o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais sorti; et je pouvais bien dire comme notre p\u00e8re Abraham au\nMauvais Riche:--\u00abEntre toi et moi il y a un abyme profond.\u00bb\nL\u00e0 j'\u00e9tais \u00e9loign\u00e9 de la perversit\u00e9 du monde: je n'avais ni\nconcupiscence de la chair, ni concupiscence des yeux, ni faste de la\nvie. Je ne convoitais rien, car j'avais alors tout ce dont j'\u00e9tais\ncapable de jouir; j'\u00e9tais seigneur de tout le manoir: je pouvais, s'il\nme plaisait, m'appeler Roi ou Empereur de toute cette contr\u00e9e rang\u00e9e\nsous ma puissance; je n'avais point de rivaux, je n'avais point de\ncomp\u00e9titeur, personne qui disput\u00e2t avec moi le commandement et la\nsouverainet\u00e9. J'aurais pu r\u00e9colter du bl\u00e9 de quoi charger des navires;\nmais, n'en ayant que faire, je n'en semais que suivant mon besoin.\nJ'avais \u00e0 foison des ch\u00e9lones ou tortues de mer, mais une de temps en\ntemps c'\u00e9tait tout ce que je pouvais consommer; j'avais assez de bois de\ncharpente pour construire une flotte de vaisseaux, et quand elle aurait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 construite j'aurais pu faire d'assez abondantes vendanges pour la\ncharger de passerilles et de vin.\nR\u00c9DACTION DU JOURNAL\nMais ce dont je pouvais faire usage \u00e9tait seul pr\u00e9cieux pour moi.\nJ'avais de quoi manger et de quoi subvenir \u00e0 mes besoins, que\nm'importait tout le reste! Si j'avais tu\u00e9 du gibier au-del\u00e0, de ma\nconsommation, il m'aurait fallu l'abandonner au chien ou aux vers. Si\nj'avais sem\u00e9 plus de bl\u00e9 qu'il ne convenait pour mon usage, il se serait\ng\u00e2t\u00e9. Les arbres que j'avais abattus restaient \u00e0 pourrir sur la terre;\nje ne pouvais les employer qu'au chauffage, et je n'avais besoin de feu\nque pour pr\u00e9parer mes aliments.\nEn un mot la nature et l'exp\u00e9rience m'apprirent, apr\u00e8s m\u00fbre r\u00e9flexion,\nque toutes les bonnes choses de l'univers ne sont bonnes pour nous que\nsuivant l'usage que nous en faisons, et qu'on n'en jouit qu'autant qu'on\ns'en sert ou qu'on les amasse pour les donner aux autres, et pas plus.\nLe ladre le plus rapace de ce monde aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 gu\u00e9ri de son vice de\nconvoitise, s'il se f\u00fbt trouv\u00e9 \u00e0 ma place; car je poss\u00e9dais infiniment\nplus qu'il ne m'\u00e9tait loisible de d\u00e9penser. Je n'avais rien \u00e0 d\u00e9sirer si\nce n'est quelques babioles qui me manquaient et qui pourtant m'auraient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 d'une grande utilit\u00e9. J'avais, comme je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 consign\u00e9, une\npetite somme de monnaie, tant en or qu'en argent, environ trente-six\nlivres sterling: h\u00e9las! cette triste vilenie restait l\u00e0 inutile; je n'en\navais que faire, et je pensais souvent en moi-m\u00eame que j'en donnerais\nvolontiers une poign\u00e9e pour quelques pipes \u00e0 tabac ou un moulin \u00e0 bras\npour moudre mon bl\u00e9; voire m\u00eame que je donnerais le tout pour six\n_penny_ de semence de navet et de carotte d'Angleterre, ou pour une\npoign\u00e9e de pois et de f\u00e8ves et une bouteille d'encre. En ma situation je\nn'en pouvais tirer ni avantage ni b\u00e9n\u00e9fice: cela restait l\u00e0 dans un\ntiroir, cela pendant la saison pluvieuse se moisissait \u00e0 l'humidit\u00e9 de\nma grotte. J'aurais eu ce tiroir plein de diamants, que c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 la\nm\u00eame chose, et ils n'auraient pas eu plus de valeur pour moi, \u00e0 cause de\nleur inutilit\u00e9.\nJ'avais alors amen\u00e9 mon \u00e9tat de vie \u00e0 \u00eatre en soi beaucoup plus heureux\nqu'il ne l'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 premi\u00e8rement, et beaucoup plus heureux pour mon\nesprit et pour mon corps. Souvent je m'asseyais pour mon repas avec\nreconnaissance, et j'admirais la main de la divine Providence qui\nm'avait ainsi dress\u00e9 une table dans le d\u00e9sert. Je m'\u00e9tudiais \u00e0 regarder\nplut\u00f4t le c\u00f4t\u00e9 brillant de ma condition que le c\u00f4t\u00e9 sombre, et \u00e0\nconsid\u00e9rer ce dont je jouissais plut\u00f4t que ce dont je manquais. Cela me\ndonnait quelquefois de secr\u00e8tes consolations ineffables. J'appuie ici\nsur ce fait pour le bien inculquer dans l'esprit de ces gens m\u00e9contents\nqui ne peuvent jouir confortablement des biens que Dieu leur a donn\u00e9s,\nparce qu'ils tournent leurs regards et leur convoitise vers des choses\nqu'il ne leur a point d\u00e9parties. Touts nos tourments sur ce qui nous\nmanque me semblent proc\u00e9der du d\u00e9faut de gratitude pour ce que nous\navons.\nUne autre r\u00e9flexion m'\u00e9tait d'un grand usage et sans doute serait de\nm\u00eame pour quiconque tomberait dans une d\u00e9tresse semblable \u00e0 la mienne:\nje comparais ma condition pr\u00e9sente \u00e0 celle \u00e0 laquelle je m'\u00e9tais\npremi\u00e8rement attendu, voire m\u00eame avec ce qu'elle aurait n\u00e9cessairement\n\u00e9t\u00e9, si la bonne providence de Dieu n'avait merveilleusement ordonn\u00e9 que\nle navire \u00e9chou\u00e2t pr\u00e8s du rivage, d'o\u00f9 non-seulement j'avais pu\nl'atteindre, mais o\u00f9 j'avais pu transporter tout ce que j'en avais tir\u00e9\npour mon soulagement et mon bien-\u00eatre; et sans quoi j'aurais manqu\u00e9\nd'outils pour travailler, d'armes pour ma d\u00e9fense et de poudre et de\nplomb pour me procurer ma nourriture.\nJe passais des heures enti\u00e8res, je pourrais dire des jours entiers \u00e0 me\nrepr\u00e9senter sous la plus vive couleur ce qu'il aurait fallu que je\nfisse, si je n'avais rien sauv\u00e9 du navire; \u00e0 me repr\u00e9senter que j'aurais\npu ne rien attraper pour ma subsistance, si ce n'est quelques poissons\net quelques tortues; et toutefois, comme il s'\u00e9tait \u00e9coul\u00e9 un temps\nassez long avant que j'en eusse rencontr\u00e9 que n\u00e9cessairement j'aurais d\u00fb\np\u00e9rir tout d'abord; ou que si je n'avais pas p\u00e9ri j'aurais d\u00fb vivre\ncomme un vrai Sauvage; enfin \u00e0 me repr\u00e9senter que, si j'avais tu\u00e9 une\nch\u00e8vre ou un oiseau par quelque stratag\u00e8me, je n'aurais pu le d\u00e9pecer ou\nl'ouvrir, l'\u00e9corcher, le vider ou le d\u00e9couper; mais qu'il m'aurait fallu\nle ronger avec mes dents et le d\u00e9chirer avec mes griffes, comme une\nb\u00eate.\nCes r\u00e9flexions me rendaient tr\u00e8s-sensible \u00e0 la bont\u00e9 de la Providence\nenvers moi et tr\u00e8s-reconnaissant de ma condition pr\u00e9sente, malgr\u00e9 toutes\nses mis\u00e8res et toutes ses disgr\u00e2ces. Je dois aussi recommander ce\npassage aux r\u00e9flexions de ceux qui sont sujets \u00e0 dire dans leur\ninfortune:--\u00abEst-il une affliction semblable \u00e0 la mienne?\u00bb--Qu'ils\nconsid\u00e8rent combien est pire le sort de tant de gens, et combien le leur\naurait pu \u00eatre pire si la Providence l'avait jug\u00e9 convenable.\nJe faisais encore une autre r\u00e9flexion qui m'aidait aussi \u00e0 repa\u00eetre mon\n\u00e2me d'esp\u00e9rances; je comparais ma condition pr\u00e9sente avec celle que\nj'avais m\u00e9rit\u00e9e et que j'avais droit d'attendre de la justice divine.\nJ'avais men\u00e9 une vie mauvaise, enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9pouill\u00e9e de toute\nconnaissance et de toute crainte de Dieu. J'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 bien \u00e9duqu\u00e9 par\nmon p\u00e8re et ma m\u00e8re; ni l'un ni l'autre n'avaient manqu\u00e9 de m'inspirer\nde bonne heure un religieux respect de Dieu, le sentiment de mes devoirs\net de ce que la nature et ma fin demandaient de moi; mais, h\u00e9las! tomb\u00e9\nbient\u00f4t dans la vie de marin, de toutes les vies la plus d\u00e9nu\u00e9e de la\ncrainte de Dieu, quoiqu'elle soit souvent face \u00e0 face avec ses terreurs;\ntomb\u00e9, dis-je, de bonne heure dans la vie et dans la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 de marins,\ntout le peu de religion que j'avais conserv\u00e9 avait \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9touff\u00e9 par les\nd\u00e9risions de mes camarades, par un endurcissement et un m\u00e9pris des\ndangers, par la vue de la mort devenue habituelle pour moi, par mon\nabsence de toute occasion de m'entretenir si ce n'\u00e9tait avec mes\npareils, ou d'entendre quelque chose qui f\u00fbt profitable ou qui tendit au\nbien.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors si d\u00e9pourvu de tout ce qui est bien, du moindre sentiment\nde ce que j'\u00e9tais ou devais \u00eatre, que dans les plus grandes faveurs dont\nj'avais joui,--telles que ma fuite de Sall\u00e9, l'accueil du capitaine\nportugais, le succ\u00e8s de ma plantation au Br\u00e9sil, la r\u00e9ception de ma\ncargaison d'Angleterre,--je n'avais pas eu une seule fois ces\nmots:--\u00abMerci, \u00f4 mon Dieu!\u00bb--ni dans le c\u0153ur ni \u00e0 la bouche. Dans mes\nplus grandes d\u00e9tresses je n'avais seulement jamais song\u00e9 \u00e0 l'implorer ou\n\u00e0 lui dire:--\u00abSeigneur, ayez piti\u00e9 de moi!\u00bb--Je ne pronon\u00e7ais le nom de\nDieu que pour jurer et blasph\u00e9mer.\nJ'eus en mon esprit de terribles r\u00e9flexions durant quelques mois, comme\nje l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 remarqu\u00e9, sur l'endurcissement et l'impi\u00e9t\u00e9 de ma vie\npass\u00e9e; et, quand je songeais \u00e0 moi, et consid\u00e9rais quelle providence\nparticuli\u00e8re avait pris soin de moi depuis mon arriv\u00e9e dans l'\u00eele, et\ncombien Dieu m'avait trait\u00e9 g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement, non-seulement en me punissant\nmoins que ne le m\u00e9ritait mon iniquit\u00e9, mais encore en pourvoyant si\nabondamment \u00e0 ma subsistance, je concevais alors l'espoir que mon\nrepentir \u00e9tait accept\u00e9 et que je n'avais pas encore lass\u00e9 la mis\u00e9ricorde\nde Dieu.\nJ'accoutumais mon esprit non-seulement \u00e0 la r\u00e9signation aux volont\u00e9s de\nDieu dans la disposition des circonstances pr\u00e9sentes, mais encore \u00e0 une\nsinc\u00e8re gratitude de mon sort, par ces s\u00e9rieuses r\u00e9flexions que, moi,\nqui \u00e9tais encore vivant, je ne devais pas me plaindre, puisque je\nn'avais pas re\u00e7u le juste ch\u00e2timent de mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s; que je jouissais de\nbien des faveurs que je n'aurais pu raisonnablement esp\u00e9rer en ce lieu;\nque, bien loin de murmurer contre ma condition, je devais en \u00eatre fort\naise, et rendre gr\u00e2ce chaque jour du pain quotidien qui n'avait pu\nm'\u00eatre envoy\u00e9 que par une suite de prodiges; que je devais consid\u00e9rer\nque j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 nourri par un miracle aussi grand que celui d'\u00c9lie\nnourri par les corbeaux; voire m\u00eame par une longue s\u00e9rie de miracles!\nenfin, que je pourrais \u00e0 peine dans les parties inhabit\u00e9es du monde\nnommer un lieu o\u00f9 j'eusse pu \u00eatre jet\u00e9 plus \u00e0 mon avantage; une place\no\u00f9, comme dans celle-ci, j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 priv\u00e9 de toute soci\u00e9t\u00e9, ce qui d'un\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 faisait mon affliction, mais o\u00f9 aussi je n'eusse trouv\u00e9 ni b\u00eates\nf\u00e9roces, ni loups, ni tigres furieux pour menacer ma vie; ni venimeuses,\nni v\u00e9n\u00e9neuses cr\u00e9atures dont j'eusse pu manger pour ma perte, ni\nSauvages pour me massacrer et me d\u00e9vorer.\nEn un mot, si d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 ma vie \u00e9tait une vie d'affliction, de l'autre\nc'\u00e9tait une vie de mis\u00e9ricorde; et il ne me manquait pour en faire une\nvie de bien-\u00eatre que le sentiment de la bont\u00e9 de Dieu et du soin qu'il\nprenait en cette solitude d'\u00eatre ma consolation de chaque jour. Puis\nensuite je faisais une juste r\u00e9capitulation de toutes ces choses, je\nsecouais mon \u00e2me, et je n'\u00e9tais plus m\u00e9lancolique.\nIl y avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 si long-temps que j'\u00e9tais dans l'\u00eele, que bien des\nchoses que j'y avais apport\u00e9es pour mon soulagement \u00e9taient ou\nenti\u00e8rement finies ou tr\u00e8s-us\u00e9es et proche d'\u00eatre consomm\u00e9es.\nMon encre, comme je l'ai dit plus haut, tirait \u00e0 sa fin depuis quelque\ntemps, il ne m'en restait que tr\u00e8s-peu, que de temps \u00e0 autre\nj'augmentais avec de l'eau, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'elle devint si p\u00e2le qu'\u00e0 peine\nlaissait-elle quelque apparence de noir sur le papier. Tant qu'elle dura\nj'en fis usage pour noter les jours du mois o\u00f9 quelque chose de\nremarquable m'arrivait. Ce m\u00e9morial du temps pass\u00e9 me fait ressouvenir\nqu'il y avait un \u00e9trange rapport de dates entre les divers \u00e9v\u00e9nements\nqui m'\u00e9taient advenus, et que si j'avais eu quelque penchant\nsuperstitieux \u00e0 observer des jours heureux et malheureux j'aurais eu\nlieu de le consid\u00e9rer avec un grand sentiment de curiosit\u00e9.\nD'abord,--je l'avais remarqu\u00e9,--le m\u00eame jour o\u00f9 je rompis avec mon p\u00e8re\net mes parents et m'enfuis \u00e0 Hull pour m'embarquer, ce m\u00eame jour, dans\nla suite, je fus pris par le corsaire de Sall\u00e9 et fait esclave.\nLe m\u00eame jour de l'ann\u00e9e o\u00f9 j'\u00e9chappai du naufrage dans la rade\nd'Yarmouth, ce m\u00eame jour, dans la suite, je m'\u00e9chappai de Sall\u00e9 dans un\nbateau.\nLe m\u00eame jour que je naquis, c'est-\u00e0-dire le 20 septembre, le m\u00eame jour\nma vie fut sauv\u00e9e vingt-six ans apr\u00e8s, lorsque je fus jet\u00e9 sur mon \u00eele.\nAinsi ma vie coupable et ma vie solitaire ont commenc\u00e9 toutes deux le\nm\u00eame jour.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose consomm\u00e9e apr\u00e8s mon encre fut le pain, je veux dire le\nbiscuit que j'avais tir\u00e9 du navire. Je l'avais m\u00e9nag\u00e9 avec une extr\u00eame\nr\u00e9serve, ne m'allouant qu'une seule galette par jour durant \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\nune ann\u00e9e. N\u00e9anmoins je fus un an entier sans pain avant que d'avoir du\nbl\u00e9 de mon cr\u00fb. Et grande raison j'avais d'\u00eatre reconnaissant d'en\navoir, sa venue \u00e9tant, comme on l'a vu, presque miraculeuse.\nMes habits aussi commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 s'user; quant au linge je n'en avais\nplus depuis long-temps, except\u00e9 quelques chemises ray\u00e9es que j'avais\ntrouv\u00e9es dans les coffres des matelots, et que je conservais\nsoigneusement, parce que souvent je ne pouvais endurer d'autres\nv\u00eatements qu'une chemise. Ce fut une excellente chose pour moi que j'en\neusse environ trois douzaines parmi les hardes des marins du navire, o\u00f9\nse trouvaient aussi quelques grosses houppelandes de matelots, que je\nlaissais en r\u00e9serve parce qu'elles \u00e9taient trop chaudes pour les porter.\nBien qu'il est vrai les chaleurs fussent si violentes que je n'avais pas\nbesoin d'habits, cependant je ne pouvais aller enti\u00e8rement nu et quand\nbien m\u00eame je l'eusse voulu, ce qui n'\u00e9tait pas. Quoique je fusse tout\nseul, je n'en pouvais seulement supporter la pens\u00e9e.\nS\u00c9JOUR SUR LA COLLINE\nLa raison pour laquelle je ne pouvais aller tout-\u00e0-fait nu, c'est que\nl'ardeur du soleil m'\u00e9tait plus insupportable quand j'\u00e9tais ainsi que\nlorsque j'avais quelques v\u00eatements. La grande chaleur me faisait m\u00eame\nsouvent venir des ampoules sur la peau; mais quand je portais une\nchemise, le vent l'agitait et soufflait par-dessous, et je me trouvais\ndoublement au frais. Je ne pus pas davantage m'accoutumer \u00e0 aller au\nsoleil sans un bonnet ou un chapeau: ses rayons dardent si violemment\ndans ces climats, qu'en tombant d'aplomb sur ma t\u00eate, ils me donnaient\nimm\u00e9diatement des migraines, qui se dissipaient aussit\u00f4t que je m'\u00e9tais\ncouvert.\n\u00c0 ces fins je commen\u00e7ai de songer \u00e0 mettre un peu d'ordre dans les\nquelques haillons que j'appelais des v\u00eatements. J'avais us\u00e9 toutes mes\nvestes: il me fallait alors essayer \u00e0 me fabriquer des jaquettes avec de\ngrandes houppelandes et les autres effets semblables que je pouvais\navoir. Je me mis donc \u00e0 faire le m\u00e9tier de tailleur, ou plut\u00f4t de\nravaudeur, car je faisais de la piteuse besogne. N\u00e9anmoins je vins \u00e0\nbout de b\u00e2tir deux ou trois casaques, dont j'esp\u00e9rais me servir\nlong-temps. Quant aux cale\u00e7ons, ou hauts-de-chausses, je les fis d'une\nfa\u00e7on vraiment pitoyable.\nJ'ai not\u00e9 que je conservais les peaux de touts les animaux que je tuais,\ndes b\u00eates \u00e0 quatre pieds, veux-je dire. Comme je les \u00e9tendais au soleil\nsur des b\u00e2tons, quelques-unes \u00e9taient devenues si s\u00e8ches et si dures\nqu'elles n'\u00e9taient bonnes \u00e0 rien; mais d'autres me furent r\u00e9ellement\ntr\u00e8s-profitables. La premi\u00e8re chose que je fis de ces peaux fut un grand\nbonnet, avec le poil tourn\u00e9 en dehors pour rejeter la pluie; et je m'en\nacquittai si bien qu'aussit\u00f4t apr\u00e8s j'entrepris un habillement tout\nentier, c'est-\u00e0-dire une casaque et des hauts-de-chausses ouverts aux\ngenoux, le tout fort l\u00e2che, car ces v\u00eatements devaient me servir plut\u00f4t\ncontre la chaleur que contre le froid. Je dois avouer qu'ils \u00e9taient\ntr\u00e8s-m\u00e9chamment faits; si j'\u00e9tais mauvais charpentier, j'\u00e9tais encore\nplus mauvais tailleur. N\u00e9anmoins ils me furent d'un fort bon usage; et\nquand j'\u00e9tais en course, s'il venait \u00e0 pleuvoir, le poil de ma casaque\net de mon bonnet \u00e9tant ext\u00e9rieur, j'\u00e9tais parfaitement garanti.\nJ'employai ensuite beaucoup de temps et de peines \u00e0 me fabriquer un\nparasol, dont v\u00e9ritablement j'avais grand besoin et grande envie, J'en\navais vu faire au Br\u00e9sil, o\u00f9 ils sont d'une tr\u00e8s-grande utilit\u00e9 dans les\nchaleurs excessives qui s'y font sentir, et celles que je ressentais en\nmon \u00eele \u00e9taient pour le moins tout aussi fortes, puisqu'elle est plus\nproche de l'\u00e9quateur. En somme, fort souvent oblig\u00e9 d'aller au loin,\nc'\u00e9tait pour moi une excellente chose par les pluies comme par les\nchaleurs. Je pris une peine infinie, et je fus extr\u00eamement long-temps\nsans rien pouvoir faire qui y ressembl\u00e2t. Apr\u00e8s m\u00eame que j'eus pens\u00e9\navoir atteint mon but, j'en g\u00e2tai deux ou trois avant d'en trouver \u00e0 ma\nfantaisie. Enfin j'en fa\u00e7onnai un qui y r\u00e9pondait assez bien. La\nprincipale difficult\u00e9 fut de le rendre fermant; car si j'eusse pu\nl'\u00e9tendre et n'eusse pu le ployer, il m'aurait toujours fallu le porter\nau-dessus de ma t\u00eate, ce qui e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 impraticable. Enfin, ainsi que je\nle disais, j'en fis un qui m'agr\u00e9ait assez; je le couvris de peau, le\npoil en dehors, de sorte qu'il rejetait la pluie comme un auvent, et\nrepoussait si bien le soleil, que je pouvais marcher dans le temps le\nplus chaud avec plus d'agr\u00e9ment que je ne le faisais auparavant dans le\ntemps le plus frais. Quand je n'en avais pas besoin je le fermais et le\nportais sous mon bras.\nJe vivais ainsi tr\u00e8s-confortablement; mon esprit s'\u00e9tait calm\u00e9 en se\nr\u00e9signant \u00e0 la volont\u00e9 de Dieu, et je m'abandonnais enti\u00e8rement aux\ndispositions de sa providence. Cela rendait m\u00eame ma vie meilleure que la\nvie sociale; car lorsque je venais \u00e0 regretter le manque de\nconversation, je me disais:--\u00abConverser ainsi mutuellement avec mes\npropres pens\u00e9es et avec mon Cr\u00e9ateur lui-m\u00eame par mes \u00e9lancements et mes\npri\u00e8res, n'est-ce pas bien pr\u00e9f\u00e9rable \u00e0 la plus grande jouissance de la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9 des hommes?\u00bb\nJe ne saurais dire qu'apr\u00e8s ceci, durant cinq ann\u00e9es, rien\nd'extraordinaire me soit advenu. Ma vie suivit le m\u00eame cours dans la\nm\u00eame situation et dans les m\u00eames lieux qu'auparavant. Outre la culture\nannuelle de mon orge et de mon riz et la r\u00e9colte de mes raisins,--je\ngardais de l'un et de l'autre toujours assez pour avoir devant moi une\nprovision d'un an;--outre ce travail annuel, dis-je, et mes sorties\njournali\u00e8res avec mon fusil, j'eus une occupation principale, la\nconstruction d'une pirogue qu'enfin je terminai, et que, par un canal\nque je creusai large de six pieds et profond de quatre, j'amenai dans la\ncrique, \u00e9loign\u00e9e d'un demi-mille environ. Pour la premi\u00e8re, si\nd\u00e9mesur\u00e9ment grande, que j'avais entreprise sans consid\u00e9rer d'abord,\ncomme je l'eusse d\u00fb faire, si je pourrais la mettre \u00e0 flot, me trouvant\ntoujours dans l'impossibilit\u00e9 de l'amener jusqu'\u00e0 l'eau ou d'amener\nl'eau jusqu'\u00e0 elle, je fus oblig\u00e9 de la laisser o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait, comme un\ncomm\u00e9moratif pour m'enseigner \u00e0 \u00eatre plus sage la prochaine fois. Au\nfait, cette prochaine fois, bien que je n'eusse pu trouver un arbre\nconvenable, bien qu'il f\u00fbt dans un lieu o\u00f9 je ne pouvais conduire l'eau,\net, comme je l'ai dit, \u00e0 une distance d'environ un demi-mille, ni voyant\npoint la chose impraticable, je ne voulus point l'abandonner. Je fus \u00e0\npeu pr\u00e8s deux ans \u00e0 ce travail, dont je ne me plaignis jamais, soutenu\npar l'esp\u00e9rance d'avoir une barque et de pouvoir enfin gagner la haute\nmer.\nCependant quand ma petite pirogue fut termin\u00e9e, sa dimension ne r\u00e9pondit\npoint du tout au dessein que j'avais eu en vue en entreprenant la\npremi\u00e8re, c'est-\u00e0-dire de gagner la terre ferme, \u00e9loign\u00e9e d'environ\nquarante milles. La petitesse de mon embarcation mit donc fin \u00e0 projet,\net je n'y pensai plus; mais je r\u00e9solus de faire le tour de l'\u00eele.\nJ'\u00e9tais all\u00e9 sur un seul point de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, en prenant la traverse\ndans les terres, ainsi que je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 narr\u00e9, et les d\u00e9couvertes que\nj'avais faites en ce voyage m'avaient rendu tr\u00e8s-curieux de voir les\nautres parties des c\u00f4tes. Comme alors rien ne s'y opposait, je ne\nsongeai plus qu'\u00e0 faire cette reconnaissance.\nDans ce dessein, et pour que je pusse op\u00e9rer plus s\u00fbrement et plus\nr\u00e9guli\u00e8rement, j'adaptai un petit m\u00e2t \u00e0 ma pirogue, et je fis une voile\nde quelques pi\u00e8ces de celles du navire mises en magasin et que j'avais\nen grande quantit\u00e9 par-devers moi.\nAyant ajust\u00e9 mon m\u00e2t et ma voile, je fis l'essai de ma barque, et je\ntrouvai qu'elle cinglait tr\u00e8s-bien. \u00c0 ses deux extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s je construisis\nalors de petits \u00e9quipets et de petits coffres pour enfermer mes\nprovisions, mes munitions, et les garantir de la pluie et des\n\u00e9claboussures de la mer; puis je creusai une longue cachette o\u00f9 pouvait\ntenir mon mousquet, et je la recouvris d'un abattant pour le garantir de\ntoute humidit\u00e9.\n\u00c0 la poupe je pla\u00e7ais mon parasol, fich\u00e9 dans une carlingue comme un\nm\u00e2t, pour me d\u00e9fendre de l'ardeur du soleil et me servir de tendelet;\n\u00e9quip\u00e9 de la sorte, je faisais de temps en temps une promenade sur mer,\nmais je n'allais pas loin et ne m'\u00e9loignais pas de la crique. Enfin,\nimpatient de conna\u00eetre la circonf\u00e9rence de mon petit Royaume, je me\nd\u00e9cidai \u00e0 faire ce voyage, et j'avitaillai ma pirogue en cons\u00e9quence.\nJ'y embarquai deux douzaines de mes pains d'orge, que je devrais plut\u00f4t\nappeler des g\u00e2teaux,--un pot de terre empli de riz sec, dont je faisais\nune grande consommation, une petite bouteille de _rum,_ une moiti\u00e9 de\nch\u00e8vre, de la poudre et du plomb pour m'en procurer davantage, et deux\ngrandes houppelandes, de celles dont j'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait mention et que\nj'avais trouv\u00e9es dans les coffres des matelots. Je les pris, l'une pour\nme coucher dessus et l'autre pour me couvrir pendant la nuit.\nCe fut le 6 novembre, l'an sixi\u00e8me de mon R\u00e8gne ou de ma Captivit\u00e9,\ncomme il vous plaira, que je me mis en route pour ce voyage, qui fut\nbeaucoup plus long que je ne m'y \u00e9tais attendu; car, bien que l'\u00eele\nelle-m\u00eame ne f\u00fbt pas tr\u00e8s-large, quand je parvins \u00e0 sa c\u00f4te orientale,\nje trouvai un grand r\u00e9cif de rochers s'\u00e9tendant \u00e0 deux lieues en mer,\nles uns au-dessus, les autres en dessous l'eau, et par-del\u00e0 un banc de\nsable \u00e0 sec qui se prolongeait \u00e0 plus d'une demi-lieue; de sorte que je\nfus oblig\u00e9 de faire un grand d\u00e9tour pour doubler cette pointe.\nQuand je d\u00e9couvris ce r\u00e9cif, je fus sur le point de renoncer \u00e0 mon\nentreprise et de rebrousser chemin, ne sachant pas de combien il\nfaudrait m'avancer au large, et par-dessus tout comment je pourrais\nrevenir. Je jetai donc l'ancre, car je m'en \u00e9tais fait une avec un\nmorceau de grappin bris\u00e9 que j'avais tir\u00e9 du navire.\nAyant mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9 ma pirogue, je pris mon mousquet, j'allai \u00e0 terre,\net je gravis sur une colline qui semblait commander ce cap. L\u00e0 j'en\nd\u00e9couvris toute l'\u00e9tendue, et je r\u00e9solus de m'aventurer.\nEn examinant la mer du haut de cette \u00e9minence, j'apper\u00e7us un rapide, je\ndirai m\u00eame un furieux courant qui portait \u00e0 l'Est et qui serrait la\npointe. J'en pris une ample connaissance, parce qu'il me semblait y\navoir quelque p\u00e9ril, et qu'y \u00e9tant une fois tomb\u00e9, entra\u00een\u00e9 par sa\nviolence, je ne pourrais plus regagner mon \u00eele. Vraiment, si je n'eusse\npas eu la pr\u00e9caution de monter sur cette colline, je crois que les\nchoses se seraient ainsi pass\u00e9es; car le m\u00eame courant r\u00e9gnait du l'autre\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, seulement il s'en tenait \u00e0 une plus grande distance. Je\nreconnus aussi qu'il y avait un violent remous sous la terre. Je n'avais\ndonc rien autre \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 \u00e9viter le premier courant, pour me trouver\naussit\u00f4t dans un remous.\nJe s\u00e9journai cependant deux jours sur cette colline, parce que le vent,\nqui soufflait assez fort Est-Sud-Est, contrariait le courant et formait\nde violents brisants contre le cap. Il n'\u00e9tait donc s\u00fbr pour moi ni de\nc\u00f4toyer le rivage \u00e0 cause du ressac, ni de gagner le large \u00e0 cause du\ncourant.\nLe troisi\u00e8me jour au matin, le vent s'\u00e9tant abattu durant la nuit, la\nmer \u00e9tant calme, je m'aventurai. Que ceci soit une le\u00e7on pour les\npilotes ignorants et t\u00e9m\u00e9raires! \u00c0 peine eus-je atteint le cap,--je\nn'\u00e9tais pas \u00e9loign\u00e9 de la terre de la longueur de mon embarcation,--que\nje me trouvai dans des eaux profondes et dans un courant rapide comme\nl'\u00e9cluse d'un moulin. Il drossa ma pirogue avec une telle violence, que\ntout ce que je pus faire ne put la retenir pr\u00e8s du rivage, et de plus en\nplus il m'emporta loin du remous, que je laissai \u00e0 ma gauche. Comme il\nn'y avait point de vent pour me seconder, tout ce que je faisais avec\nmes pagaies ne signifiait rien. Alors je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 me croire perdu;\ncar, les courants r\u00e9gnant des deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s de l'\u00eele, je n'ignorais pas\nqu'\u00e0 la distance de quelques lieues ils devaient se rejoindre, et que l\u00e0\nce serait irr\u00e9vocablement fait de moi. N'entrevoyant aucune possibilit\u00e9\nd'en r\u00e9chapper, je n'avais devant moi que l'image de la mort, et\nl'espoir, non d'\u00eatre submerg\u00e9, car la mer \u00e9tait assez calme, mais de\np\u00e9rir de faim. J'avais trouv\u00e9, il est vrai sur le rivage une grosse\ntortue dont j'avais presque ma charge, et que j'avais embarqu\u00e9e; j'avais\nune grande jarre d'eau douce, une jarre, c'est-\u00e0-dire un de mes pots de\nterre; mais qu'\u00e9tait tout cela si je venais \u00e0 \u00eatre dross\u00e9 au milieu du\nvaste Oc\u00e9an, o\u00f9 j'avais l'assurance de ne point rencontrer de terres, ni\ncontinent ni \u00eele, avant mille lieues tout au moins?\nJe compris alors combien il est facile \u00e0 la providence de Dieu de rendre\npire la plus mis\u00e9rable condition de l'humanit\u00e9. Je me repr\u00e9sentais alors\nmon \u00eele solitaire et isol\u00e9e comme le lieu le plus s\u00e9duisant du monde, et\nl'unique bonheur que souhait\u00e2t mon c\u0153ur \u00e9tait d'y rentrer. Plein de ce\nbr\u00fblant d\u00e9sir, je tendais mes bras vers elle.--\u00abHeureux d\u00e9sert,\nm'\u00e9criais-je, je ne te verrai donc plus! \u00d4 mis\u00e9rable cr\u00e9ature! O\u00f9\nvas-tu?\u00bb\nPOOR ROBIN CRUSOE, WHERE ARE YOU?\nAlors je me reprochai mon esprit ingrat. Combien de fois avais-je\nmurmur\u00e9 contre ma condition solitaire! Que n'aurais-je pas donn\u00e9 \u00e0 cette\nheure pour remettre le pied sur la plage? Ainsi nous ne voyons jamais le\nv\u00e9ritable \u00e9tat de notre position avant qu'il n'ait \u00e9t\u00e9 rendu \u00e9vident par\ndes fortunes contraires, et nous n'appr\u00e9cions nos jouissances qu'apr\u00e8s\nque nous les avons perdues. Il serait \u00e0 peine possible d'imaginer quelle\n\u00e9tait ma consternation en me voyant loin de mon \u00eele bien-aim\u00e9e,--telle\nelle m'apparaissait alors,--emport\u00e9 au milieu du vaste Oc\u00e9an. J'en \u00e9tais\n\u00e9loign\u00e9 de plus de deux lieues, et je d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rais \u00e0 tout jamais de la\nrevoir. Cependant je travaillai toujours rudement, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que mes\nforces fussent \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s \u00e9puis\u00e9es, dirigeant du mieux que je pouvais ma\npirogue vers le Nord, c'est-\u00e0-dire au c\u00f4t\u00e9 Nord du courant o\u00f9 se\ntrouvait le remous. Dans le milieu de la journ\u00e9e, lorsque le soleil\npassa au m\u00e9ridien, je crus sentir sur mon visage une brise l\u00e9g\u00e8re venant\ndu Sud-Sud-Est. Cela me remit un peu de courage au c\u0153ur, surtout quand\nau bout d'une demi-heure environ il s'\u00e9leva au joli frais. En ce moment\nj'\u00e9tais \u00e0 une distance effroyable de mon \u00eele, et si le moindre nuage ou\nla moindre brume f\u00fbt survenue, je me serais \u00e9gar\u00e9 dans ma route; car,\nn'ayant point \u00e0 bord de compas de mer, je n'aurais su comment gouverner\npour mon \u00eele si je l'avais une fois perdue de vue. Mais le temps\ncontinuant \u00e0 \u00eatre beau, je redressai mon m\u00e2t, j'aplestai ma voile et\nportai le cap au Nord autant que possible pour sortir du courant.\n\u00c0 peine avais-je dress\u00e9 mon m\u00e2t et ma voile, \u00e0 peine la pirogue\ncommen\u00e7ait-elle \u00e0 forcer au plus pr\u00e8s, que je m'apper\u00e7us par la\nlimpidit\u00e9 de l'eau que quelque changement allait survenir dans le\ncourant, car l'eau \u00e9tait trouble dans les endroits les plus violents. En\nremarquant la clart\u00e9 de l'eau, je sentis le courant qui s'affaiblissait,\net au m\u00eame instant je vis \u00e0 l'Est, \u00e0 un demi-mille environ, la mer qui\nd\u00e9ferlait contre les roches. Ces roches partageaient le courant en deux\nparties. La plus grande courait encore au Sud, laissant les roches au\nNord-Est; tandis que l'autre repouss\u00e9e par l'\u00e9cueil formait un remous\nrapide qui portait avec force vers le Nord-Ouest.\nCeux qui savent ce que c'est que de recevoir sa gr\u00e2ce sur l'\u00e9chelle,\nd'\u00eatre sauv\u00e9 de la main des brigands juste au moment d'\u00eatre \u00e9gorg\u00e9, ou\nqui se sont trouv\u00e9s en d'\u00e9quivalentes extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s, ceux-l\u00e0 seulement\npeuvent concevoir ce que fut alors ma surprise de joie, avec quel\nempressement je pla\u00e7ai ma pirogue dans la direction de ce remous, avec\nquelle h\u00e2te, la brise fra\u00eechissant, je lui tendis ma voile, et courus\njoyeusement vent arri\u00e8re, dross\u00e9 par un reflux imp\u00e9tueux.\nCe remous me ramena d'une lieue dans mon chemin, directement vers mon\n\u00eele, mais \u00e0 deux lieues plus au Nord que le courant qui m'avait d'abord\ndross\u00e9. De sorte qu'en approchant de l'\u00eele je me trouvai vers sa c\u00f4te\nseptentrionale, c'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 son extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 oppos\u00e9e \u00e0 celle d'o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais parti.\nQuand j'eus fait un peu plus d'une lieue \u00e0 l'aide de ce courant ou de ce\nremous, je sentis qu'il \u00e9tait pass\u00e9 et qu'il ne me portait plus. Je\ntrouvai toutefois qu'\u00e9tant entre deux courants, celui au Sud qui m'avait\nentra\u00een\u00e9, et celui au Nord qui s'\u00e9loignait du premier de deux lieues\nenviron sur l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, je trouvai, dis-je, \u00e0 l'Ouest de l'\u00eele, l'eau\ntout-\u00e0-fait calme et dormante. La brise m'\u00e9tant toujours favorable, je\ncontinuai donc de gouverner directement pour l'\u00eele, mais je ne faisais\nplus un grand sillage, comme auparavant.\nVers quatre heures du soir, \u00e9tant \u00e0 une lieue environ de mon \u00eele, je\ntrouvai que la pointe de rochers cause de tout ce malencontre,\ns'avan\u00e7ant vers le Sud, comme il est d\u00e9crit plus haut, et rejetant le\ncourant plus au Midi, avait form\u00e9 d'elle m\u00eame un autre remous vers le\nNord. Ce remous me parut tr\u00e8s-fort et porter directement dans le chemin\nde ma course, qui \u00e9tait Ouest mais presque plein Nord. \u00c0 la faveur d'un\nbon frais, je cinglai \u00e0 travers ce remous, obliquement au Nord-Ouest, et\nen une heure j'arrivai \u00e0 un mille de la c\u00f4te. L'eau \u00e9tait calme: j'eus\nbient\u00f4t gagn\u00e9 le rivage.\nD\u00e8s que je fus \u00e0 terre je tombai \u00e0 genoux, je remerciai Dieu de ma\nd\u00e9livrance, r\u00e9solu d'abandonner toutes pens\u00e9es de fuite sur ma pirogue;\net, apr\u00e8s m'\u00eatre rafra\u00eechi avec ce que j'avais de provisions, je la\nh\u00e2lai tout contre le bord, dans une petite anse que j'avais d\u00e9couverte\nsous quelques arbres, et me mis \u00e0 sommeiller, \u00e9puis\u00e9 par le travail et\nla fatigue du voyage.\nJ'\u00e9tais fort embarrass\u00e9 de savoir comment revenir \u00e0 la maison avec ma\npirogue. J'avais couru trop de dangers, je connaissais trop bien le cas,\npour penser tenter mon retour par le chemin que j'avais pris en venant;\net ce que pouvait \u00eatre l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9,--l'Ouest, veux-je dire,--je\nl'ignorais et ne voulais plus courir de nouveaux hasards. Je me\nd\u00e9terminai donc, mais seulement dans la matin\u00e9e, \u00e0 longer le rivage du\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 du couchant, pour chercher une crique o\u00f9 je pourrais mettre ma\nfr\u00e9gate en s\u00fbret\u00e9, afin de la retrouver si je venais \u00e0 en avoir besoin.\nAyant c\u00f4toy\u00e9 la terre pendant trois milles ou environ, je d\u00e9couvris une\ntr\u00e8s-bonne baie, profonde d'un mille et allant en se r\u00e9tr\u00e9cissant\njusqu'\u00e0 l'embouchure d'un petit ruisseau. L\u00e0 je trouvai pour mon\nembarcation un excellent port, o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait comme dans une darse qui\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 faite tout expr\u00e8s pour elle. Je l'y pla\u00e7ai, et l'ayant\nparfaitement abrit\u00e9e, je mis pied \u00e0 terre pour regarder autour de moi et\nvoir o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais.\nJe reconnus bient\u00f4t que j'avais quelque peu d\u00e9pass\u00e9 le lieu o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais\nall\u00e9 lors de mon voyage \u00e0 pied sur ce rivage; et, ne retirant de ma\npirogue que mon mousquet et mon parasol, car il faisait excessivement\nchaud, je me mis en marche. La route \u00e9tait assez agr\u00e9able, apr\u00e8s le\ntrajet que je venais de faire et j'atteignis sur le soir mon ancienne\ntonnelle, o\u00f9 je trouvai chaque chose comme je l'avais laiss\u00e9: je la\nmaintenais toujours en bon ordre: car c'\u00e9tait, ainsi que je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0\ndit, ma maison de campagne.\nJe passai par-dessus la palissade, et je me couchai \u00e0 l'ombre pour\nreposer mes membres. J'\u00e9tais harass\u00e9, je m'endormis bient\u00f4t. Mais jugez\nsi vous le pouvez, vous qui lisez mon histoire, quelle dut \u00eatre ma\nsurprise quand je fus arrach\u00e9 \u00e0 mon sommeil par une voix qui m'appela\nplusieurs fois par mon nom:--\u00abRobin, Robin, Robin CRUSOE, pauvre\nRobinson CRUSOE! O\u00f9 \u00eates-vous?--, Robin CRUSOE? O\u00f9 \u00eates-vous? O\u00f9\n\u00eates-vous all\u00e9?\u00bb\nJ'\u00e9tais si profond\u00e9ment endormi, fatigu\u00e9 d'avoir ram\u00e9, ou pagay\u00e9, comme\ncela s'appelle, toute la premi\u00e8re partie du jour et march\u00e9 durant toute\nl'autre, que je ne me r\u00e9veillai pas enti\u00e8rement. Je flottais entre le\nsommeil et le r\u00e9veil, je croyais songer que quelqu'un me parlait. Comme\nla voix continuait de r\u00e9p\u00e9ter: \u00abRobin CRUSOE, Robin CRUSOE\u00bb,--je\nm'\u00e9veillai enfin tout-\u00e0-fait, horriblement \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 et dans la plus\ngrande consternation. Mais \u00e0 peine eus-je ouvert les yeux que je vis mon\nPoll perch\u00e9 sur la cime de la haie, et reconnus aussit\u00f4t que c'\u00e9tait lui\nqui me parlait. Car c'\u00e9tait justement le langage lamentable que j'avais\ncoutume de lui tenir et de lui apprendre; et lui l'avait si bien retenu,\nqu'il venait se poser sur mon doigt, approcher son bec de mon visage, et\ncrier:--\u00abPauvre Robin CRUSOE, o\u00f9 \u00eates-vous? o\u00f9 \u00eates-vous all\u00e9? comment\n\u00eates-vous venu ici?\u00bb--et autres choses semblables que je lui avais\nenseign\u00e9es.\nCependant, bien que j'eusse reconnu que c'\u00e9tait le perroquet, et qu'au\nfait ce ne pouvait \u00eatre personne d'autre, je fus assez long-temps \u00e0 me\nremettre. J'\u00e9tais \u00e9tonn\u00e9 que cet animal f\u00fbt venu l\u00e0, et je cherchais\nquand et comment il y \u00e9tait venu, plut\u00f4t qu'ailleurs. Lorsque je fus\nbien assur\u00e9 que ce n'\u00e9tait personne d'autre que mon fid\u00e8le Poll, je lui\ntendis la main, je l'appelai par son nom, Poll; et l'aimable oiseau vint\n\u00e0 moi, se posa sur mon pouce, comme il avait habitude de faire, et\ncontinua de me dire:--\u00abPauvre Robin CRUSOE, comment \u00eates-vous venu l\u00e0,\no\u00f9 \u00eates-vous all\u00e9?--\u00bb juste comme s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 enchant\u00e9 de me revoir; et\nje l'emportai ainsi avec moi au logis.\nJ'avais alors pour quelque temps tout mon content de courses sur mer;\nj'en avais bien assez pour demeurer tranquille quelques jours et\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur les dangers que j'avais courus. J'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 fort aise\nd'avoir ma pirogue sur mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, mais je ne voyais pas qu'il\nf\u00fbt possible de l'y amener. Quant \u00e0 la c\u00f4te orientale que j'avais\nparcourue, j'\u00e9tais pay\u00e9 pour ne plus m'y aventurer; rien que d'y penser\nmon c\u0153ur se serrait et mon sang se gla\u00e7ait dans mes veines; et pour\nl'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, j'ignorais ce qu'il pouvait \u00eatre; mais, en\nsupposant que le courant port\u00e2t contre le rivage avec la m\u00eame force qu'\u00e0\nl'Est, je pouvais courir le m\u00eame risque d'\u00eatre dross\u00e9, et emport\u00e9 loin\nde l'\u00eele ainsi que je l'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0. Toutes ces raisons firent que je\nme r\u00e9signai \u00e0 me passer de ma pirogue, quoiqu'elle f\u00fbt le produit de\ntant de mois de travail pour la faire et de tant de mois pour la lancer.\nDans cette sagesse d'esprit je v\u00e9cus pr\u00e8s d'un an, d'une vie retir\u00e9e et\ns\u00e9dentaire, comme on peut bien se l'imaginer. Mes pens\u00e9es \u00e9tant\nparfaitement accommod\u00e9es \u00e0 ma condition, et m'\u00e9tant tout-\u00e0-fait consol\u00e9\nen m'abandonnant aux dispensations de la Providence, sauf l'absence de\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9, je pensais mener une vie r\u00e9ellement heureuse en touts points.\nDurant cet intervalle je me perfectionnai dans touts les travaux\nm\u00e9caniques auxquels mes besoins me for\u00e7aient de m'appliquer, et je\nserais port\u00e9 \u00e0 croire, consid\u00e9rant surtout combien j'avais peu d'outils\nque j'aurais pu faire un tr\u00e8s-bon charpentier.\nJ'arrivai en outre \u00e0 une perfection inesp\u00e9r\u00e9e en poterie de terre, et\nj'imaginai assez bien de la fabriquer avec une roue, ce que je trouvai\ninfiniment mieux et plus commode, parce que je donnais une forme ronde\net bien proportionn\u00e9e aux m\u00eames choses que je faisais auparavant\nhideuses \u00e0 voir. Mais jamais je ne fus plus glorieux, je pense, de mon\npropre ouvrage, plus joyeux de quelque d\u00e9couverte, que lorsque je\nparvins \u00e0 me fa\u00e7onner une pipe. Quoique fort laide, fort grossi\u00e8re et en\nterre cuite rouge comme mes autres poteries, elle \u00e9tait cependant ferme\net dure, et aspirait tr\u00e8s-bien, ce dont j'\u00e9prouvai une excessive\nsatisfaction, car j'avais toujours eu l'habitude de fumer. \u00c0 bord de\nnotre navire il se trouvait bien des pipes, mais j'avais premi\u00e8rement\nn\u00e9glig\u00e9 de les prendre, ne sachant pas qu'il y e\u00fbt du tabac dans l'\u00eele,\net plus tard, quand je refouillai le b\u00e2timent, je ne pus mettre la main\nsur aucune.\nJe fis aussi de grands progr\u00e8s en vannerie; je tressai, aussi bien que\nmon invention me le permettait, une multitude de corbeilles n\u00e9cessaires,\nqui, bien qu'elles ne fussent pas fort \u00e9l\u00e9gantes, ne laissaient pas de\nm'\u00eatre fort commodes pour entreposer bien des choses et en transporter\nd'autres \u00e0 la maison. Par exemple, si je tuais au loin une ch\u00e8vre, je la\nsuspendais \u00e0 un arbre, je l'\u00e9corchais, je l'habillais, et je la coupais\nen morceau, que j'apportais au logis, dans une corbeille; de m\u00eame pour\nune tortue: je l'ouvrais, je prenais ses \u0153ufs et une pi\u00e8ce ou deux de sa\nchair, ce qui \u00e9tait bien suffisant pour moi, je les emportais dans un\npanier, et j'abandonnais tout le reste. De grandes et profondes\ncorbeilles me servaient de granges pour mon bl\u00e9 que j'\u00e9grainais et\nvannais toujours aussit\u00f4t qu'il \u00e9tait sec, et de grandes mannes me\nservaient de grainiers.\nROBINSON ET SA COUR\nJe commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 m'appercevoir que ma poudre diminuait\nconsid\u00e9rablement: c'\u00e9tait une perte \u00e0 laquelle il m'\u00e9tait impossible de\nsuppl\u00e9er; je me mis \u00e0 songer s\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 ce qu'il faudrait que je\nfisse quand je n'en aurais plus, c'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 ce qu'il faudrait que je\nfisse pour tuer des ch\u00e8vres. J'avais bien, comme je l'ai rapport\u00e9, dans\nla troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon s\u00e9jour, pris une petite bique, que j'avais\napprivois\u00e9e, dans l'espoir d'attraper un biquet, mais je n'y pus\nparvenir par aucun moyen avant que ma bique ne f\u00fbt devenue une vieille\nch\u00e8vre. Mon c\u0153ur r\u00e9pugna toujours \u00e0 la tuer: elle mourut de vieillesse.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors dans la onzi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de ma r\u00e9sidence, et, comme je l'ai\ndit, mes munitions commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 baisser: je m'appliquai \u00e0 inventer\nquelque stratag\u00e8me pour traquer et empi\u00e9ger des ch\u00e8vres, et pour voir si\nje ne pourrais pas en attraper quelques-unes vivantes. J'avais besoin\npar-dessus tout d'une grande bique avec son cabri.\n\u00c0 cet effet je fis des traquenards pour les happer: elles s'y prirent\nplus d'une fois sans doute; mais, comme les garnitures n'en \u00e9taient pas\nbonnes,--je n'avais point de fil d'archal,--je les trouvai toujours\nrompues et mes amorces mang\u00e9es.\nJe r\u00e9solus d'essayer \u00e0 les prendre au moyen d'une trappe. Je creusai\ndonc dans la terre plusieurs grandes fosses dans les endroits o\u00f9 elles\navaient coutume de pa\u00eetre, et sur ces fosses je pla\u00e7ai des claies de ma\nfa\u00e7on, charg\u00e9es d'un poids \u00e9norme. Plusieurs fois j'y semai des \u00e9pis\nd'orge et du riz sec sans y pratiquer de bascule, et je reconnus\nais\u00e9ment par l'empreinte de leurs pieds que les ch\u00e8vres y \u00e9taient\nvenues. Finalement, une nuit, je dressai trois trappes, et le lendemain\nmatin je les retrouvai toutes tendues, bien que les amorces fussent\nmang\u00e9es. C'\u00e9tait vraiment d\u00e9courageant. N\u00e9anmoins je changeai mon\nsyst\u00e8me de trappe; et, pour ne point vous fatiguer par trop de d\u00e9tails,\nun matin, allant visiter mes pi\u00e9ges, je trouvai dans l'un d'eux un vieux\nbouc \u00e9norme, et dans un autre trois chevreaux, m\u00e2le et deux femelles.\nQuant au vieux bouc, je n'en savais que faire: il \u00e9tait si farouche que\nje n'osais descendre dans sa fosse pour t\u00e2cher de l'emmener en vie, ce\nque pourtant je d\u00e9sirais beaucoup. J'aurais pu le tuer, mais cela\nn'\u00e9tait point mon affaire et ne r\u00e9pondait point \u00e0 mes vues. Je le tirai\ndonc \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 dehors, et il s'enfuit comme s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fou d'\u00e9pouvante.\nJe ne savais pas alors, ce que j'appris plus tard, que la faim peut\napprivoiser m\u00eame un lion. Si je l'avais laiss\u00e9 l\u00e0 trois ou quatre jours\nsans nourriture, et qu'ensuite je lui eusse apport\u00e9 un peu d'eau \u00e0 boire\net quelque peu de bl\u00e9, il se serait priv\u00e9 comme un des biquets, car ces\nanimaux sont pleins d'intelligence et de docilit\u00e9 quand on en use bien\navec eux.\nQuoi qu'il en soit, je le laissai partir, n'en sachant pas alors\ndavantage. Puis j'allai aux trois chevreaux, et, les prenant un \u00e0 un, je\nles attachai ensemble avec des cordons et les amenai au logis, non sans\nbeaucoup de peine.\nIl se passa un temps assez long avant qu'ils voulussent manger; mais le\nbon grain que je leur jetais les tenta, et ils commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 se\nfamiliariser. Je reconnus alors que, pour me nourrir de la viande de\nch\u00e8vre, quand je n'aurais plus ni poudre ni plomb, il me fallait faire\nmultiplier des ch\u00e8vres apprivois\u00e9es, et que par ce moyen je pourrais en\navoir un troupeau autour de ma maison.\nMais il me vint incontinent \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e que si je ne tenais point mes\nchevreaux hors de l'atteinte des boucs \u00e9trangers, ils redeviendraient\nsauvages en grandissant, et que, pour les pr\u00e9server de ce contact, il me\nfallait avoir un terrain bien d\u00e9fendu par une haie ou palissade, que\nceux du dedans ne pourraient franchir et que ceux du dehors ne\npourraient forcer.\nL'entreprise \u00e9tait grande pour un seul homme, mais une n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 absolue\nm'enjoignait de l'ex\u00e9cuter. Mon premier soin fut de chercher une pi\u00e8ce\nde terre convenable c'est-\u00e0-dire o\u00f9 il y e\u00fbt de l'herbage pour leur\np\u00e2ture, de l'eau pour les abreuver et de l'ombre pour les garder du\nsoleil.\nCeux qui s'entendent \u00e0 faire ces sortes d'enclos trouveront que ce fut\nune maladresse de choisir pour place convenable, dans une prairie ou\n_savane_,--comme on dit dans nos colonies occidentales,--un lieu plat et\nouvert, ombrag\u00e9 \u00e0 l'une de ses extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s, et o\u00f9 serpentaient deux ou\ntrois filets d'eau; ils ne pourront, dis-je, s'emp\u00eacher de sourire de ma\npr\u00e9voyance quand je leur dirai que je commen\u00e7ai la cl\u00f4ture de ce terrain\nde telle mani\u00e8re, que ma haie ou ma palissade aurait eu au moins deux\nmilles de circonf\u00e9rence. Ce n'\u00e9tait pas en la dimension de cette\npalissade que gisait l'extravagance de mon projet, car elle aurait eu\ndix milles que j'avais assez de temps pour la faire, mais en ce que je\nn'avais pas consid\u00e9r\u00e9 que mes ch\u00e8vres seraient tout aussi sauvages dans\nun si vaste enclos, que si elles eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 en libert\u00e9 dans l'\u00eele, et\nque dans un si grand espace je ne pourrais les attraper.\nMa haie \u00e9tait commenc\u00e9e, et il y en avait bien cinquante verges\nd'achev\u00e9es lorsque cette pens\u00e9e me vint. Je m'arr\u00eatai aussit\u00f4t, et je\nr\u00e9solus de n'enclorre que cent cinquante verges en longueur et cent\nverges en largeur, espace suffisant pour contenir tout autant de ch\u00e8vres\nque je pourrais en avoir pendant un temps raisonnable, \u00e9tant toujours \u00e0\nm\u00eame d'agrandir mon parc suivant que mon troupeau s'accro\u00eetrait.\nC'\u00e9tait agir avec prudence, et je me mis \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre avec courage. Je fus\ntrois mois environ \u00e0 entourer cette premi\u00e8re pi\u00e8ce. Jusqu'\u00e0 ce que ce\nf\u00fbt achev\u00e9 je fis pa\u00eetre les trois chevreaux, avec des entraves aux\npieds, dans le meilleur pacage et aussi pr\u00e8s de moi que possible, pour\nles rendre familiers. Tr\u00e8s-souvent je leur portais quelques \u00e9pis d'orge\net une poign\u00e9e de riz, qu'ils mangeaient dans ma main. Si bien qu'apr\u00e8s\nl'ach\u00e8vement de mon enclos, lorsque je les eus d\u00e9barrass\u00e9s de leurs\nliens, ils me suivaient partout, b\u00ealant apr\u00e8s moi pour avoir une poign\u00e9e\nde grains.\nCeci r\u00e9pondit \u00e0 mon dessein, et au bout d'un an et demi environ j'eus un\ntroupeau de douze t\u00eates: boucs, ch\u00e8vres et chevreaux; et deux ans apr\u00e8s\nj'en eus quarante-trois, quoique j'en eusse pris et tu\u00e9 plusieurs pour\nma nourriture. J'entourai ensuite cinq autres pi\u00e8ces de terre \u00e0 leur\nusage, y pratiquant de petits parcs o\u00f9 je les faisais entrer pour les\nprendre quand j'en avais besoin, et des portes pour communiquer d'un\nenclos \u00e0 l'autre.\nCe ne fut pas tout; car alors j'eus \u00e0 manger quand bon me semblait,\nnon-seulement la viande de mes ch\u00e8vres, mais leur lait, chose \u00e0 laquelle\nje n'avais pas song\u00e9 dans le commencement, et qui lorsqu'elle me vint \u00e0\nl'esprit me causa une joie vraiment inopin\u00e9e. J'\u00e9tablis aussit\u00f4t ma\nlaiterie, et quelquefois en une journ\u00e9e j'obtins jusqu'\u00e0 deux gallons de\nlait. La nature, qui donne aux cr\u00e9atures les aliments qui leur sont\nn\u00e9cessaires, leur sugg\u00e8re en m\u00eame temps les moyens d'en faire usage.\nAinsi, moi, qui n'avais jamais trait une vache, encore moins une ch\u00e8vre,\nqui n'avais jamais vu faire ni beurre ni fromage, je parvins, apr\u00e8s il\nest vrai beaucoup d'essais infructueux, \u00e0 faire tr\u00e8s-promptement et\ntr\u00e8s-adroitement et du beurre et du fromage, et depuis je n'en eus\njamais faute.\nQue notre sublime Cr\u00e9ateur peut traiter mis\u00e9ricordieusement ses\ncr\u00e9atures, m\u00eame dans ces conditions o\u00f9 elles semblent \u00eatre plong\u00e9es dans\nla d\u00e9solation! Qu'il sait adoucir nos plus grandes amertumes, et nous\ndonner occasion de le glorifier du fond m\u00eame de nos cachots! Quelle\ntable il m'avait dress\u00e9e dans le d\u00e9sert, o\u00f9 je n'avais d'abord entrevu\nque la faim et la mort!\nUn sto\u00efcien e\u00fbt souri de me voir assis \u00e0 d\u00eener au milieu de ma petite\nfamille. L\u00e0 r\u00e9gnait ma Majest\u00e9 le Prince et Seigneur de toute\nl'\u00eele:--j'avais droit de vie et de mort sur touts mes sujets; je pouvais\nles pendre, les vider, leur donner et leur reprendre leur libert\u00e9. Point\nde rebelles parmi mes peuples!\nSeul, ainsi qu'un Roi, je d\u00eenais entour\u00e9 de mes courtisans! Poll, comme\ns'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 mon favori, avait seul la permission de me parler; mon\nchien, qui \u00e9tait alors devenu vieux et infirme, et qui n'avait point\ntrouv\u00e9 de compagne de son esp\u00e8ce pour multiplier sa race, \u00e9tait toujours\nassis \u00e0 ma droite; mes deux chats \u00e9taient sur la table, l'un d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9\net l'autre de l'autre, attendant le morceau que de temps en temps ma\nmain leur donnait comme une marque de faveur sp\u00e9ciale.\nCes deux chats n'\u00e9taient pas ceux que j'avais apport\u00e9s du navire: ils\n\u00e9taient morts et avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 enterr\u00e9s de mes propres mains proche de mon\nhabitation; mais l'un d'eux ayant eu des petits de je ne sais quelle\nesp\u00e8ce d'animal, j'avais apprivois\u00e9 et conserv\u00e9 ces deux-l\u00e0, tandis que\nles autres couraient sauvages dans les bois et par la suite me devinrent\nfort incommodes. Ils s'introduisaient souvent chez moi et me pillaient\ntellement, que je fus oblig\u00e9 de tirer sur eux et d'en exterminer un\ngrand nombre. Enfin ils m'abandonn\u00e8rent, moi et ma Cour, au milieu de\nlaquelle je vivais de cette mani\u00e8re somptueuse, ne d\u00e9sirant rien qu'un\npeu plus de soci\u00e9t\u00e9: peu de temps apr\u00e8s ceci je fus sur le point d'avoir\nbeaucoup trop.\nJ'\u00e9tais assez impatient comme je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait observer d'avoir ma\npirogue \u00e0 mon service, mais je ne me souciais pas de courir de nouveau\nle hasard; c'est pour cela que quelquefois je m'ing\u00e9niais pour trouver\nmoyen de lui faire faire le tour de l'\u00eele, et que d'autres fois je me\nr\u00e9signais assez bien \u00e0 m'en passer. Mais j'avais une \u00e9trange envie\nd'aller \u00e0 la pointe o\u00f9, dans ma derni\u00e8re course, j'avais gravi sur une\ncolline, pour reconna\u00eetre la c\u00f4te et la direction du courant, afin de\nvoir ce que j'avais \u00e0 faire. Ce d\u00e9sir augmentait de jour en jour; je\nr\u00e9solus enfin de m'y rendre par terre en suivant le long du rivage: ce\nque je fis.--Si quelqu'un venait \u00e0 rencontrer en Angleterre un homme tel\nque j'\u00e9tais, il serait \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 ou il se p\u00e2merait de rire. Souvent je\nm'arr\u00eatais pour me contempler moi-m\u00eame, et je ne pouvais m'emp\u00eacher de\nsourire \u00e0 la pens\u00e9e de traverser le Yorkshire dans un pareil \u00e9quipage.\nPar l'esquisse suivante on peut se former une id\u00e9e de ma figure:\nJ'avais un bonnet grand, haut, informe, et fait de peau de ch\u00e8vre, avec\nune basque tombant derri\u00e8re pour me garantir du soleil et emp\u00eacher l'eau\nde la pluie de me ruisseler dans le cou. Rien n'est plus dangereux en\nces climats que de laisser p\u00e9n\u00e9trer la pluie entre sa chair et ses\nv\u00eatements.\nJ'avais une jaquette courte, \u00e9galement de peau de ch\u00e8vre, dont les pans\ndescendaient \u00e0 mi-cuisse, et une paire de hauts-de-chausses ouverts aux\ngenoux. Ces hauts-de-chausses \u00e9taient faits de la peau d'un vieux bouc\ndont le poil pendait si bas de touts c\u00f4t\u00e9s, qu'il me venait, comme un\npantalon, jusqu'\u00e0 mi-jambe. De bas et de souliers je n'en avais point;\nmais je m'\u00e9tais fait une paire de quelque chose, je sais \u00e0 peine quel\nnom lui donner, assez semblable \u00e0 des brodequins collant \u00e0 mes jambes et\nse la\u00e7ant sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 comme des gu\u00eatres: c'\u00e9tait, de m\u00eame que tout le\nreste de mes v\u00eatements, d'une forme vraiment barbare.\nJ'avais un large ceinturon de peau de ch\u00e8vre dess\u00e9ch\u00e9e, qui s'attachait\navec deux courroies au lieu de boucles; en guise d'\u00e9p\u00e9e et de dague j'y\nappendais d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 une petite scie et de l'autre une hache. J'avais en\noutre un baudrier qui s'attachait de la m\u00eame mani\u00e8re et passait\npar-dessus mon \u00e9paule. \u00c0 son extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, sous mon bras gauche, pendaient\ndeux poches faites aussi de peau de ch\u00e8vre: dans l'une je mettais ma\npoudre et dans l'autre mon plomb. Sur mon dos je portais une corbeille,\nsur mon \u00e9paule un mousquet, et sur ma t\u00eate mon grand vilain parasol de\npeau de bouc, qui pourtant, apr\u00e8s mon fusil, \u00e9tait la chose la plus\nn\u00e9cessaire de mon \u00e9quipage.\nLE VESTIGE\nQuant \u00e0 mon visage, son teint n'\u00e9tait vraiment pas aussi h\u00e2l\u00e9 qu'on\nl'aurait pu croire d'un homme qui n'en prenait aucun soin et qui vivait\n\u00e0 neuf ou dix degr\u00e9s de l'\u00e9quateur. J'avais d'abord laiss\u00e9 cro\u00eetre ma\nbarbe jusqu'\u00e0 la longueur d'un quart d'aune; mais, comme j'avais des\nciseaux et des rasoirs, je la coupais alors assez courte, except\u00e9 celle\nqui poussait sur ma l\u00e8vre sup\u00e9rieure, et que j'avais arrang\u00e9e en mani\u00e8re\nde grosses moustaches \u00e0 la mahom\u00e9tane, telles qu'\u00e0 Sall\u00e9 j'en avais vu \u00e0\nquelques Turcs; car, bien que les Turcs en aient, les Maures n'en\nportent point. Je ne dirai pas que ces moustaches ou ces crocs \u00e9taient\nassez longs pour y suspendre mon chapeau, mais ils \u00e9taient d'une\nlongueur et d'une forme assez monstrueuses pour qu'en Angleterre ils\neussent paru effroyables.\nMais que tout ceci soit dit en passant, car ma tenue devait \u00eatre si peu\nremarqu\u00e9e, qu'elle n'\u00e9tait pas pour moi une chose importante: je n'y\nreviendrai plus. Dans cet accoutrement je partis donc pour mon nouveau\nvoyage, qui me retint absent cinq ou six jours. Je marchai d'abord le\nlong du rivage de la mer, droit vers le lieu o\u00f9 la premi\u00e8re fois j'avais\nmis ma pirogue \u00e0 l'ancre pour gravir sur les roches. N'ayant pas, comme\nalors, de barque \u00e0 mettre en s\u00fbret\u00e9, je me rendis par le plus court\nchemin sur la m\u00eame colline; d'o\u00f9, jetant mes regards vers la pointe de\nrochers que j'avais eu \u00e0 doubler avec ma pirogue, comme je l'ai narr\u00e9\nplus haut, je fus surpris de voir la mer tout-\u00e0-fait calme et douce: l\u00e0\ncomme en toute autre place point de clapotage, point de mouvement, point\nde courant.\nJ'\u00e9tais \u00e9trangement embarrass\u00e9 pour m'expliquer ce changement, et je\nr\u00e9solus de demeurer quelque temps en observation pour voir s'il n'\u00e9tait\npoint occasionn\u00e9 par la mar\u00e9e. Je ne tardai pas \u00e0 \u00eatre au fait,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre que le reflux, partant de l'Ouest et se\njoignant au cours des eaux de quelque grand fleuve, devait \u00eatre la cause\nde ce courant; et que, selon la force du vent qui soufflait de l'Ouest\nou du Nord, il s'approchait ou s'\u00e9loignait du rivage. Je restai aux\naguets jusqu'au soir, et lorsque le reflux arriva, du haut des rochers\nje revis le courant comme la premi\u00e8re fois, mais il se tenait \u00e0 une\ndemi-lieue de la pointe; tandis qu'en ma m\u00e9saventure il s'\u00e9tait\ntellement approch\u00e9 du bord qu'il m'avait entra\u00een\u00e9 avec lui, ce qu'en ce\nmoment il n'aurait pu faire.\nJe conclus de cette observation qu'en remarquant le temps du flot et du\njusant de la mar\u00e9e, il me serait tr\u00e8s-ais\u00e9 de ramener mon embarcation.\nMais quand je voulus entamer ce dessein, mon esprit fut pris de terreur\nau souvenir du p\u00e9ril que j'avais essuy\u00e9, et je ne pus me d\u00e9cider \u00e0\nl'entreprendre. Bien au contraire, je pris la r\u00e9solution, plus s\u00fbre mais\nplus laborieuse, de me construire ou plut\u00f4t de me creuser une autre\npirogue, et d'en avoir ainsi une pour chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele.\nVous n'ignorez pas que j'avais alors, si je puis m'exprimer ainsi, deux\nplantations dans l'\u00eele: l'une \u00e9tait ma petite forteresse ou ma tente,\nentour\u00e9e de sa muraille au pied du rocher, avec son arri\u00e8re grotte, que\nj'avais en ce temps-l\u00e0 agrandie de plusieurs chambres donnant l'une dans\nl'autre. Dans l'une d'elles, celle qui \u00e9tait la moins humide et la plus\ngrande, et qui avait une porte en dehors de mon retranchement,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire un peu au-del\u00e0 de l'endroit o\u00f9 il rejoignait le rocher, je\ntenais les grands pots de terre dont j'ai parl\u00e9 avec d\u00e9tail, et quatorze\nou quinze grandes corbeilles de la contenance de cinq ou six boisseaux,\no\u00f9 je conservais mes provisions, surtout mon bl\u00e9, soit \u00e9grain\u00e9 soit en\n\u00e9pis s\u00e9par\u00e9s de la paille.\nPour ce qui est de mon enceinte, les longs pieux ou palis dont elle\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 faite autrefois avaient cr\u00fb comme des arbres et \u00e9taient\ndevenus si gros et si touffus qu'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 impossible de s'appercevoir\nqu'ils masquaient une habitation.\nPr\u00e8s de cette demeure, mais un peu plus avant dans le pays et dans un\nterrain moins \u00e9lev\u00e9, j'avais deux pi\u00e8ces \u00e0 bl\u00e9, que je cultivais et\nensemen\u00e7ais exactement, et qui me rendaient exactement leur moisson en\nsaison opportune. Si j'avais eu besoin d'une plus grande quantit\u00e9 de\ngrains, j'avais d'autres terres adjacentes propres \u00e0 \u00eatre emblav\u00e9es.\nOutre cela j'avais ma maison de campagne, qui pour lors \u00e9tait une assez\nbelle plantation. L\u00e0 se trouvait ma tonnelle, que j'entretenais avec\nsoin, c'est-\u00e0-dire que je tenais la haie qui l'entourait constamment\n\u00e9mond\u00e9e \u00e0 la m\u00eame hauteur, et son \u00e9chelle toujours post\u00e9e en son lieu,\nsur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 int\u00e9rieur de l'enceinte. Pour les arbres, qui d'abord\nn'avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 que des pieux, mais qui \u00e9taient devenus hauts et forts, je\nles entretenais et les \u00e9laguais de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ce qu'ils pussent\ns'\u00e9tendre, cro\u00eetre \u00e9pais et touffus, et former un agr\u00e9able ombrage, ce\nqu'ils faisaient tout-\u00e0-fait \u00e0 mon gr\u00e9. Au milieu de cette tonnelle ma\ntente demeurait toujours dress\u00e9e; c'\u00e9tait une pi\u00e8ce de voile tendue sur\ndes perches plant\u00e9es tout expr\u00e8s, et qui n'avaient jamais besoin d'\u00eatre\nr\u00e9par\u00e9es ou renouvel\u00e9es. Sous cette tente je m'\u00e9tais fait un lit de\nrepos avec les peaux de touts les animaux que j'avais tu\u00e9s, et avec\nd'autres choses molles sur lesquelles j'avais \u00e9tendu une couverture\nprovenant des strapontins que j'avais sauv\u00e9s du vaisseau, et une grande\nhouppelande qui servait \u00e0 me couvrir. Voil\u00e0 donc la maison de campagne\no\u00f9 je me rendais toutes les fois que j'avais occasion de m'absenter de\nmon principal manoir.\nAdjacent \u00e0 ceci j'avais mon parc pour mon b\u00e9tail, c'est-\u00e0-dire pour mes\nch\u00e8vres. Comme j'avais pris une peine inconcevable pour l'enceindre et\nle prot\u00e9ger, d\u00e9sireux de voir sa cl\u00f4ture parfaite, je ne m'\u00e9tais arr\u00eat\u00e9\nqu'apr\u00e8s avoir garni le c\u00f4t\u00e9 ext\u00e9rieur de la haie de tant de petits\npieux plant\u00e9s si pr\u00e8s l'un de l'autre, que c'\u00e9tait plus une palissade\nqu'une haie, et qu'\u00e0 peine y pouvait-on fourrer la main. Ces pieux,\nayant pouss\u00e9 d\u00e8s la saison pluvieuse qui suivit, avaient rendu avec le\ntemps cette cl\u00f4ture aussi forte, plus forte m\u00eame que la meilleure\nmuraille.\nCes travaux t\u00e9moignent que je n'\u00e9tais pas oisif et que je n'\u00e9pargnais\npas mes peines pour accomplir tout ce qui semblait n\u00e9cessaire \u00e0 mon\nbien-\u00eatre; car je consid\u00e9rais que l'entretien d'une race d'animaux\ndomestiques \u00e0 ma disposition m'assurerait un magasin vivant de viande,\nde lait, de beurre et de fromage pour tout le temps, que je serais en ce\nlieu, duss\u00e9-je y vivre quarante ans; et que la conservation de cette\nrace d\u00e9pendait enti\u00e8rement de la perfection de mes cl\u00f4tures, qui, somme\ntoute, me r\u00e9ussirent si bien, que d\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re pousse des petits\npieux je fus oblig\u00e9, tant ils \u00e9taient plant\u00e9s dru, d'en arracher\nquelques-uns.\nDans ce canton croissaient aussi les vignes d'o\u00f9 je tirais pour l'hiver\nma principale provision de raisins, que je conservais toujours avec\nbeaucoup de soin, comme le meilleur et le plus d\u00e9licat de touts mes\naliments. C'\u00e9tait un manger non-seulement agr\u00e9able, mais sain,\nm\u00e9dicinal, nutritif et rafra\u00eechissant au plus haut degr\u00e9.\nComme d'ailleurs cet endroit se trouvait \u00e0 mi-chemin de mon autre\nhabitation et du lieu o\u00f9 j'avais laiss\u00e9 ma pirogue, je m'y arr\u00eatais\nhabituellement, et j'y couchais dans mes courses de l'un \u00e0 l'autre; car\nje visitais fr\u00e9quemment de tout ce qui en d\u00e9pendait. Quelquefois je la\nmontais et je voguais pour me divertir, mais je ne faisais plus de\nvoyages aventureux; \u00e0 peine allais-je \u00e0 plus d'un ou deux jets de pierre\ndu rivage, tant je redoutais d'\u00eatre entra\u00een\u00e9 de nouveau par des\ncourants, le vent ou quelque autre malencontre.--Mais me voici arriv\u00e9 \u00e0\nune nouvelle sc\u00e8ne de ma vie.\nIl advint qu'un jour, vers midi, comme j'allais \u00e0 ma pirogue, je fus\nexcessivement surpris en d\u00e9couvrant le vestige humain d'un pied nu\nparfaitement empreint sur le sable. Je m'arr\u00eatai court, comme frapp\u00e9 de\nla foudre, ou comme si j'eusse entrevu un fant\u00f4me. J'\u00e9coutai, je\nregardai autour de moi, mais je n'entendis rien ni ne vis rien. Je\nmontai sur un tertre pour jeter au loin mes regards, puis je revins sur\nle rivage et descendis jusqu'\u00e0 la rive. Elle \u00e9tait solitaire, et je ne\npus rencontrer aucun autre vestige que celui-l\u00e0. J'y retournai encore\npour m'assurer s'il n'y en avait pas quelque autre, ou si ce n'\u00e9tait\npoint une illusion; mais non, le doute n'\u00e9tait point possible: car\nc'\u00e9tait bien l'empreinte d'un pied, l'orteil, le talon, enfin toutes les\nparties d'un pied. Comment cela \u00e9tait-il venu l\u00e0? je ne le savais ni ne\npouvais l'imaginer. Apr\u00e8s mille pens\u00e9es d\u00e9sordonn\u00e9es, comme un homme\nconfondu, \u00e9gar\u00e9, je m'enfuis \u00e0 ma forteresse, ne sentant pas, comme on\ndit, la terre o\u00f9 je marchais. Horriblement \u00e9pouvant\u00e9, je regardais\nderri\u00e8re moi touts les deux ou trois pas, me m\u00e9prenant \u00e0 chaque arbre, \u00e0\nchaque buisson, et transformant en homme chaque tronc dans\nl'\u00e9loignement.--Il n'est pas possible de d\u00e9crire les formes diverses\ndont une imagination frapp\u00e9e rev\u00eat touts les objets. Combien d'id\u00e9es\nextravagantes me vinrent \u00e0 la t\u00eate! Que d'\u00e9tranges et d'absurdes\nbizarreries assaillirent mon esprit durant le chemin!\nQuand j'arrivai \u00e0 mon ch\u00e2teau, car c'est ainsi que je le nommai toujours\ndepuis lors, je m'y jetai comme un homme poursuivi. Y rentrai-je\nd'embl\u00e9e par l'\u00e9chelle ou par l'ouverture dans le roc que j'appelais une\nporte, je ne puis me le rem\u00e9morer, car jamais li\u00e8vre effray\u00e9 ne se\ncacha, car jamais renard ne se terra avec plus d'effroi que moi dans\ncette retraite.\nJe ne pus dormir de la nuit. \u00c0 mesure que je m'\u00e9loignais de la cause de\nma terreur, mes craintes augmentaient, contrairement \u00e0 toute loi des\nchoses et surtout \u00e0 la marche, ordinaire de la peur chez les animaux.\nJ'\u00e9tais toujours si troubl\u00e9 de mes propres imaginations que je\nn'entrevoyais rien que de sinistre. Quelquefois je me figurais qu'il\nfallait que ce f\u00fbt le diable, et j'appuyais cette supposition sur ce\nraisonnement: Comment quelque autre chose ayant forme humaine\naurait-elle pu parvenir en cet endroit? O\u00f9 \u00e9tait le vaisseau qui\nl'aurait amen\u00e9e? Quelle trace y avait-il de quelque autre pas? et\ncomment \u00e9tait-il possible qu'un homme f\u00fbt venu l\u00e0? Mais d'un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9\nje retombais dans le m\u00eame embarras quand je me demandais pourquoi Satan\nse serait incarn\u00e9 en un semblable lieu, sans autre but que celui de\nlaisser une empreinte de son pied, ce qui m\u00eame n'\u00e9tait pas un but, car\nil ne pouvait avoir l'assurance que je la rencontrerais. Je consid\u00e9rai\nd'ailleurs que le diable aurait eu pour m'\u00e9pouvanter bien d'autres\nmoyens que la simple marque de son pied; et que, lorsque je vivais\ntout-\u00e0-fait de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, il n'aurait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 assez simple\npour laisser un vestige dans un lieu o\u00f9 il y avait dix mille \u00e0 parier\ncontre un que je ne le verrais pas, et qui plus est, sur du sable o\u00f9 la\npremi\u00e8re vague de la mer et la premi\u00e8re rafale pouvaient l'effacer\ntotalement. En un mot, tout cela me semblait contradictoire en soi, et\navec toutes les id\u00e9es commun\u00e9ment admises sur la subtilit\u00e9 du d\u00e9mon.\nQuantit\u00e9 de raisons semblables d\u00e9tourn\u00e8rent mon esprit de toute\nappr\u00e9hension du diable; et je conclus que ce devaient \u00eatre de plus\ndangereuses cr\u00e9atures, c'est-\u00e0-dire des Sauvages de la terre ferme\nsitu\u00e9e \u00e0 l'opposite, qui, r\u00f4dant en mer dans leurs pirogues, avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nentra\u00een\u00e9s par les courants ou les vents contraires, et jet\u00e9s sur mon\n\u00eele; d'o\u00f9, apr\u00e8s \u00eatre descendus au rivage, ils \u00e9taient repartis, ne se\nsouciant sans doute pas plus de rester sur cette \u00eele d\u00e9serte que je ne\nme serais souci\u00e9 moi-m\u00eame de les y avoir.\nLES OSSEMENTS\nPendant que ces r\u00e9flexions roulaient en mon esprit, je rendais gr\u00e2ce au\nCiel de ce que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 assez heureux pour ne pas me trouver alors\ndans ces environs, et pour qu'ils n'eussent pas apper\u00e7u mon embarcation;\ncar ils en auraient certainement conclu qu'il y avait des habitants en\ncette place, ce qui peut-\u00eatre aurait pu les porter \u00e0 pousser leurs\nrecherches jusqu'\u00e0 moi.--Puis de terribles pens\u00e9es assaillaient mon\nesprit: j'imaginais qu'ayant d\u00e9couvert mon bateau et reconnu par l\u00e0 que\nl'\u00eele \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e, ils reviendraient assur\u00e9ment en plus grand nombre,\net me d\u00e9voreraient; que, s'il advenait que je pusse me soustraire,\ntoutefois ils trouveraient mon enclos, d\u00e9truiraient tout mon bl\u00e9,\nemm\u00e8neraient tout mon troupeau de ch\u00e8vres: ce qui me condamnerait \u00e0\nmourir de faim.\nLa crainte bannissait ainsi de mon \u00e2me tout mon religieux espoir, toute\nma premi\u00e8re confiance en Dieu, fond\u00e9e sur la merveilleuse exp\u00e9rience que\nj'avais faite de sa bont\u00e9; comme si Celui qui jusqu'\u00e0 cette heure\nm'avait nourri miraculeusement n'avait pas la puissance de me conserver\nles biens que sa lib\u00e9ralit\u00e9 avait amass\u00e9s pour moi. Dans cette\ninqui\u00e9tude, je me reprochai de n'avoir sem\u00e9 du bl\u00e9 que pour un an, que\njuste ce dont j'avais besoin jusqu'\u00e0 la saison prochaine, comme s'il ne\npouvait point arriver un accident qui d\u00e9truis\u00eet ma moisson en herbe; et\nje trouvai ce reproche si m\u00e9rit\u00e9 que je r\u00e9solus d'avoir \u00e0 l'avenir deux\nou trois ann\u00e9es de bl\u00e9 devant moi, pour n'\u00eatre pas, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt\nadvenir, r\u00e9duit \u00e0 p\u00e9rir faute de pain.\nQuelle \u0153uvre \u00e9trange et bizarre de la Providence que la vie de l'homme!\nPar combien de voies secr\u00e8tes et contraires les circonstances diverses\nne pr\u00e9cipitent-elles pas nos affections! Aujourd'hui nous aimons ce que\ndemain nous ha\u00efrons; aujourd'hui nous recherchons ce que nous fuirons\ndemain; aujourd'hui nous d\u00e9sirons ce qui demain nous fera peur, je dirai\nm\u00eame trembler \u00e0 la seule appr\u00e9hension! J'\u00e9tais alors un vivant et\nmanifeste exemple de cette v\u00e9rit\u00e9; car moi, dont la seule affliction\n\u00e9tait de me voir banni de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 humaine, seul, entour\u00e9 par le vaste\nOc\u00e9an, retranch\u00e9 de l'humanit\u00e9 et condamn\u00e9 \u00e0 ce que j'appelais une vie\nsilencieuse; moi qui \u00e9tais un homme que le Ciel jugeait indigne d'\u00eatre\ncompt\u00e9 parmi les vivants et de figurer parmi le reste de ses cr\u00e9atures;\nmoi pour qui la vue d'un \u00eatre de mon esp\u00e8ce aurait sembl\u00e9 un retour de\nla mort \u00e0 la vie, et la plus grande b\u00e9n\u00e9diction qu'apr\u00e8s ma f\u00e9licit\u00e9\n\u00e9ternelle le Ciel lui-m\u00eame p\u00fbt m'accorder; moi, dis-je, je tremblais \u00e0\nla seule id\u00e9e de voir un homme, et j'\u00e9tais pr\u00e8s de m'enfoncer sous terre\n\u00e0 cette ombre, \u00e0 cette apparence muette qu'un homme avait mis le pied\ndans l'\u00eele!\nVoil\u00e0 les vicissitudes de la vie humaine, voil\u00e0 ce qui me donna de\nnombreux et de curieux sujets de m\u00e9ditation quand je fus un peu revenu\nde ma premi\u00e8re stupeur.--Je consid\u00e9rai alors que c'\u00e9tait l'infiniment\nsage et bonne providence de Dieu qui m'avait condamn\u00e9 \u00e0 cet \u00e9tat de vie;\nqu'incapable de p\u00e9n\u00e9trer les desseins de la sagesse divine \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard,\nje ne pouvais pas d\u00e9cliner la souverainet\u00e9 d'un \u00catre qui, comme mon\nCr\u00e9ateur, avait le droit incontestable et absolu de disposer de moi \u00e0\nson bon plaisir, et qui pareillement avait le pouvoir judiciaire de me\ncondamner, moi, sa cr\u00e9ature, qui l'avais offens\u00e9, au ch\u00e2timent qu'il\njugeait convenable; et que je devais me r\u00e9signer \u00e0 supporter sa col\u00e8re,\npuisque j'avais p\u00e9ch\u00e9 contre lui.\nPuis je fis r\u00e9flexion que Dieu, non-seulement \u00e9quitable, mais tout\npuissant, pouvait me d\u00e9livrer de m\u00eame qu'il m'avait puni et afflig\u00e9\nquand il l'avait jug\u00e9 convenable, et que, s'il ne jugeait pas convenable\nde le faire, mon devoir \u00e9tait de me r\u00e9signer enti\u00e8rement et absolument \u00e0\nsa volont\u00e9. D'ailleurs, il \u00e9tait aussi de mon devoir d'esp\u00e9rer en lui,\nde l'implorer, et de me laisser aller tranquillement aux mouvements et\naux inspirations de sa providence de chaque jour.\nCes pens\u00e9es m'occup\u00e8rent des heures, des jours, je puis dire m\u00eame des\nsemaines et des mois, et je n'en saurais omettre cet effet particulier:\nun matin, de tr\u00e8s-bonne heure, \u00e9tant couch\u00e9 dans mon lit, l'\u00e2me\npr\u00e9occup\u00e9e de la dangereuse apparition des Sauvages, je me trouvais dans\nun profond abattement, quand tout-\u00e0-coup me revinrent en l'esprit ces\nparoles de la Sainte \u00c9criture:--\u00abInvoque-moi au jour de ton affliction,\net je te d\u00e9livrerai, et tu me glorifieras.\u00bb\nL\u00e0-dessus je me levai, non-seulement le c\u0153ur empli de joie et de\ncourage, mais port\u00e9 \u00e0 prier Dieu avec ferveur pour ma d\u00e9livrance.\nLorsque j'eus achev\u00e9 ma pri\u00e8re, je pris ma Bible, et, en l'ouvrant, le\npremier passage qui s'offrit \u00e0 ma vue fut celui-ci:--\u00abSers le Seigneur,\net aie bon courage, et il fortifiera ton c\u0153ur; sers, dis-je, le\nSeigneur.\u00bb--Il serait impossible d'exprimer combien ces paroles me\nr\u00e9confort\u00e8rent. Plein de reconnaissance, je posai le livre, et je ne fus\nplus triste au moins \u00e0 ce sujet.\nAu milieu de ces pens\u00e9es, de ces appr\u00e9hensions et de ces m\u00e9ditations, il\nme vint un jour en l'esprit que je m'\u00e9tais cr\u00e9\u00e9 des chim\u00e8res, et que le\nvestige de ce pas pouvait bien \u00eatre une empreinte faite sur le rivage\npar mon propre pied en me rendant \u00e0 ma pirogue. Cette id\u00e9e contribua\naussi \u00e0 me ranimer: je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me persuader que ce n'\u00e9tait qu'une\nillusion, et que ce pas \u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement le mien. N'avais-je pas pu\nprendre ce chemin, soit en allant \u00e0 ma pirogue soit en revenant?\nD'ailleurs je reconnus qu'il me serait impossible de me rappeler si\ncette route \u00e9tait ou n'\u00e9tait pas celle que j'avais prise; et je compris\nque, si cette marque \u00e9tait bien celle de mon pied, j'avais jou\u00e9 le r\u00f4le\nde ces fous qui s'\u00e9vertuent \u00e0 faire des histoires de spectres et\nd'apparitions dont ils finissent eux-m\u00eames par \u00eatre plus effray\u00e9s que\ntout autre.\nJe repris donc courage, et je regardai dehors en tapinois. N'\u00e9tant pas\nsorti de mon ch\u00e2teau depuis trois jours et trois nuits, je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0\nlanguir de besoin: je n'avais plus chez moi que quelques biscuits d'orge\net de l'eau. Je songeai alors que mes ch\u00e8vres avaient grand besoin que\nje les trayasse,--ce qui \u00e9tait ordinairement ma r\u00e9cr\u00e9ation du soir,--et\nque les pauvres b\u00eates devaient avoir bien souffert de cet abandon. Au\nfait quelques-unes s'en trouv\u00e8rent fort incommod\u00e9es: leur lait avait\ntari.\nRaffermi par la croyance que ce n'\u00e9tait rien que le vestige de l'un de\nmes propres pieds,--je pouvais donc dire avec v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que j'avais eu peur\nde mon ombre,--je me risquai \u00e0 sortir et j'allai \u00e0 ma maison des champs\npour traire mon troupeau; mais, \u00e0 voir avec quelle peur j'avan\u00e7ais,\nregardant souvent derri\u00e8re moi, pr\u00e8s \u00e0 chaque instant de laisser l\u00e0 ma\ncorbeille et de m'enfuir pour sauver ma vie, on m'aurait pris pour un\nhomme troubl\u00e9 par une mauvaise conscience, ou sous le coup d'un horrible\neffroi: ce qui, au fait, \u00e9tait vrai.\nToutefois, ayant fait ainsi cette course pendant deux ou trois jours, je\nm'enhardis et me confirmai dans le sentiment que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 dupe de mon\nimagination. Je ne pouvais cependant me le persuader compl\u00e8tement avant\nde retourner au rivage, avant de revoir l'empreinte de ce pas, de le\nmesurer avec le mien, de m'assurer s'il avait quelque similitude ou\nquelque conformit\u00e9, afin que je pusse \u00eatre convaincu que c'\u00e9tait bien l\u00e0\nmon pied. Mais quand j'arrivai au lieu m\u00eame, je reconnus qu'\u00e9videmment,\nlorsque j'avais abrit\u00e9 ma pirogue, je n'avais pu passer par l\u00e0 ni aux\nenvirons. Bien plus, lorsque j'en vins \u00e0 mesurer la marque, je trouvai\nqu'elle \u00e9tait de beaucoup plus large que mon pied. Ce double\nd\u00e9sappointement remplit ma t\u00eate de nouvelles imaginations et mon c\u0153ur de\nla plus profonde m\u00e9lancolie. Un frisson me saisit comme si j'eusse eu la\nfi\u00e8vre, et je m'en retournai chez moi, plein de l'id\u00e9e qu'un homme ou\ndes hommes \u00e9taient descendus sur ce rivage, ou que l'\u00eele \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e,\net que je pouvais \u00eatre pris \u00e0 l'improviste. Mais que faire pour ma\ns\u00e9curit\u00e9? je ne savais.\nOh! quelles absurdes r\u00e9solutions prend un homme quand il est poss\u00e9d\u00e9 de\nla peur! Elle lui \u00f4te l'usage des moyens de salut que lui offre la\nraison. La premi\u00e8re chose que je me proposai fut de jeter \u00e0 bas mes\ncl\u00f4tures, de rendre \u00e0 la vie sauvage des bois mon b\u00e9tail apprivois\u00e9, de\npeur que l'ennemi, venant \u00e0 le d\u00e9couvrir, ne se pr\u00eet \u00e0 fr\u00e9quenter l'\u00eele,\ndans l'espoir de trouver un semblable butin. Il va sans dire qu'apr\u00e8s\ncela je devais bouleverser mes deux champs de bl\u00e9, pour qu'il ne f\u00fbt\npoint attir\u00e9 par cet app\u00e2t, et d\u00e9molir ma tonnelle et ma tente afin\nqu'il ne p\u00fbt trouver nul vestige de mon habitation qui l'e\u00fbt excit\u00e9 \u00e0\npousser ses recherches, dans l'espoir de rencontrer les habitants de\nl'\u00eele.\nCe fut l\u00e0 le sujet de mes r\u00e9flexions pendant la nuit qui suivit mon\nretour \u00e0 la maison, quand les appr\u00e9hensions qui s'\u00e9taient empar\u00e9es de\nmon esprit \u00e9taient encore dans toute leur force, ainsi que les vapeurs\nde mon cerveau. La crainte du danger est dix mille fois plus effrayante\nque le danger lui-m\u00eame, et nous trouvons le poids de l'anxi\u00e9t\u00e9 plus\nlourd de beaucoup que le mal que nous redoutons. Mais le pire dans tout\ncela, c'est que dans mon trouble je ne tirais plus aucun secours de la\nr\u00e9signation. J'\u00e9tais semblable \u00e0 Sa\u00fcl, qui se plaignait non-seulement de\nce que les Philistins \u00e9taient sur lui, mais que Dieu l'avait abandonn\u00e9;\nje n'employais plus les moyens propres \u00e0 rass\u00e9r\u00e9ner mon \u00e2me en criant \u00e0\nDieu dans ma d\u00e9tresse, et en me reposant pour ma d\u00e9fense et mon Salut\nsur sa providence, comme j'avais fait auparavant. Si je l'avais fait,\nj'aurais au moins support\u00e9 plus courageusement cette nouvelle alarme, et\npeut-\u00eatre l'aurais-je brav\u00e9e avec plus de r\u00e9solution.\nCe trouble de mes pens\u00e9es me tint \u00e9veill\u00e9 toute la nuit, mais je\nm'endormis dans la matin\u00e9e. La fatigue de mon \u00e2me et l'\u00e9puisement de mes\nesprits me procur\u00e8rent un sommeil tr\u00e8s-profond, et je me r\u00e9veillai\nbeaucoup plus calme. Je commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 raisonner de sens rassis, et,\napr\u00e8s un long d\u00e9bat avec moi-m\u00eame, je conclus que cette \u00eele, si\nagr\u00e9able, si fertile et si proche de la terre ferme que j'avais vue,\nn'\u00e9tait pas aussi abandonn\u00e9e que je l'avais cru; qu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 il n'y\navait point d'habitants fixes qui v\u00e9cussent sur ce rivage, mais\nqu'assur\u00e9ment des embarcations y venaient quelquefois du continent, soit\navec dessein, soit pouss\u00e9es par les vents contraires.\nAyant v\u00e9cu quinze ann\u00e9es dans ce lieu, et n'ayant point encore rencontr\u00e9\nl'ombre d'une cr\u00e9ature humaine, il \u00e9tait donc probable que si\nquelquefois on rel\u00e2chait \u00e0 cette \u00eele, on se rembarquait aussi t\u00f4t que\npossible, puisqu'on ne l'avait point jug\u00e9e propre \u00e0 s'y \u00e9tablir jusque\nalors.\nLe plus grand danger que j'avais \u00e0 redouter c'\u00e9tait donc une semblable\ndescente accidentelle des gens de la terre ferme, qui, selon toute\napparence, abordant \u00e0 cette \u00eele contre leur gr\u00e9, s'en \u00e9loignaient avec\ntoute la h\u00e2te possible, et n'y passaient que rarement la nuit pour\nattendre le retour du jour et de la mar\u00e9e. Ainsi je n'avais rien autre \u00e0\nfaire qu'\u00e0 me m\u00e9nager une retraite s\u00fbre pour le cas o\u00f9 je verrais\nprendre terre \u00e0 des Sauvages.\nJe commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 me repentir d'avoir creus\u00e9 ma grotte, et de lui\navoir donn\u00e9 une issue qui aboutissait, comme je l'ai dit, au-del\u00e0 de\nl'endroit o\u00f9 ma fortification joignait le rocher. Apr\u00e8s m\u00fbre\nd\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, je r\u00e9solus de me faire un second retranchement en\ndemi-cercle, \u00e0 quelque distance de ma muraille, juste o\u00f9 douze ans\nauparavant j'avais plant\u00e9 un double rang d'arbres dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9 fait\nmention. Ces arbres avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 plac\u00e9s si pr\u00e8s les uns des autres qu'il\nn'\u00e9tait besoin que d'enfoncer entre eux quelques poteaux pour en faire\naussit\u00f4t une muraille \u00e9paisse et forte.\nEMBUSCADE\nDe cette mani\u00e8re j'eus un double rempart: celui du dehors \u00e9tait renforc\u00e9\nde pi\u00e8ces de charpente, de vieux c\u00e2bles, et de tout ce que j'avais jug\u00e9\npropre \u00e0 le consolider, et perc\u00e9 de sept meurtri\u00e8res assez larges pour\npasser le bras. Du c\u00f4t\u00e9 ext\u00e9rieur je l'\u00e9paissis de dix pieds, en\namoncelant contre toute la terre que j'extrayais de ma grotte, et en\npi\u00e9tinant dessus. Dans les sept meurtri\u00e8res j'imaginai de placer les\nmousquets que j'ai dit avoir sauv\u00e9s du navire au nombre de sept, et de\nles monter en guise de canons sur des esp\u00e8ces d'aff\u00fbts; de sorte que je\npouvais en deux minutes faire feu de toute mon artillerie. Je fus\nplusieurs grands mois \u00e0 achever ce rempart, et cependant je ne me crus\npoint en s\u00fbret\u00e9 qu'il ne f\u00fbt fini.\nCet ouvrage termin\u00e9, pour le masquer, je fichai dans tout le terrain\nenvironnant des b\u00e2tons ou des pieux de ce bois semblable \u00e0 l'osier qui\ncroissait si facilement. Je crois que j'en plantai bien pr\u00e8s de vingt\nmille, tout en r\u00e9servant entre eux et mon rempart une assez grande\nesplanade pour d\u00e9couvrir l'ennemi et pour qu'il ne p\u00fbt, \u00e0 la faveur de\nces jeunes arbres, si toutefois il le tentait, se glisser jusqu'au pied\nde ma muraille ext\u00e9rieure.\nAu bout de deux ans j'eus un fourr\u00e9 \u00e9pais, et au bout de cinq ou six ans\nj'eus devant ma demeure un bocage qui avait cr\u00fb si prodigieusement dru\net fort, qu'il \u00e9tait vraiment imp\u00e9n\u00e9trable. \u00c2me qui vive ne se serait\njamais imagin\u00e9 qu'il y e\u00fbt quelque chose par derri\u00e8re, et surtout une\nhabitation. Comme je ne m'\u00e9tais point r\u00e9serv\u00e9 d'avenue, je me servais\npour entrer et sortir de deux \u00e9chelles: avec la premi\u00e8re je montais \u00e0 un\nendroit peu \u00e9lev\u00e9 du rocher, o\u00f9 il y avait place pour poser la seconde;\net quand je les avais retir\u00e9es toutes les deux, il \u00e9tait de toute\nimpossibilit\u00e9 \u00e0 un homme de venir \u00e0 moi sans se blesser; et quand m\u00eame\nil e\u00fbt pu y parvenir, il se serait encore trouv\u00e9 au-del\u00e0 de ma muraille\next\u00e9rieure.\nC'est ainsi que je pris pour ma propre conservation toutes les mesures\nque la prudence humaine pouvait me sugg\u00e9rer, et l'on verra par la suite\nqu'elles n'\u00e9taient pas enti\u00e8rement d\u00e9nu\u00e9es de justes raisons. Je ne\npr\u00e9voyais rien alors cependant qui ne me f\u00fbt souffl\u00e9 par la peur.\nDurant ces travaux je n'\u00e9tais pas tout-\u00e0-fait insouciant de mes autres\naffaires; je m'int\u00e9ressais surtout \u00e0 mon petit troupeau de ch\u00e8vres, qui\nnon-seulement suppl\u00e9ait \u00e0 mes besoins pr\u00e9sents et commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 me\nsuffire, sans aucune d\u00e9pense de poudre et de plomb, mais encore\nm'exemptait des fatigues de la chasse. Je ne me souciais nullement de\nperdre de pareils avantages et de rassembler un troupeau sur de nouveaux\nfrais.\nApr\u00e8s de longues consid\u00e9rations \u00e0 ce sujet, je ne pus trouver que deux\nmoyens de le pr\u00e9server: le premier \u00e9tait de chercher quelque autre\nemplacement convenable pour creuser une caverne sous terre, o\u00f9 je\nl'enfermerais toutes les nuits; et le second d'enclorre deux ou trois\npetits terrains \u00e9loign\u00e9s les uns des autres et aussi cach\u00e9s que\npossible, dans chacun desquels je pusse parquer une demi-douzaine de\nch\u00e8vres; afin que, s'il advenait quelque d\u00e9sastre au troupeau principal,\nje pusse le r\u00e9tablir en peu de temps et avec peu de peine. Quoique ce\ndernier dessein demand\u00e2t beaucoup de temps et de travail, il me parut le\nplus raisonnable.\nEn cons\u00e9quence j'employai quelques jours \u00e0 parcourir les parties les\nplus retir\u00e9es de l'\u00eele, et je fis choix d'un lieu aussi cach\u00e9 que je le\nd\u00e9sirais. C'\u00e9tait un petit terrain humide au milieu de ces bois \u00e9pais et\nprofonds o\u00f9, comme je l'ai dit, j'avais failli \u00e0 me perdre autrefois en\nessayant \u00e0 les traverser pour revenir de la c\u00f4te orientale de l'\u00eele. Il\ny avait l\u00e0 une clairi\u00e8re de pr\u00e8s de trois acres, si bien entour\u00e9e de\nbois que c'\u00e9tait presque un enclos naturel, qui, pour son ach\u00e8vement,\nn'exigeait donc pas autant de travail que les premiers, que j'avais\nfaits si p\u00e9niblement.\nJe me mis aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 l'ouvrage, et en moins d'un mois j'eus si bien\nenferm\u00e9 cette pi\u00e8ce de terre, que mon troupeau ou ma harde, appelez-le\ncomme il vous plaira, qui d\u00e8s lors n'\u00e9tait plus sauvage, pouvait s'y\ntrouver assez bien en s\u00fbret\u00e9. J'y conduisis sans plus de d\u00e9lai dix\nch\u00e8vres et deux boucs; apr\u00e8s quoi je continuai \u00e0 perfectionner cette\ncl\u00f4ture jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'elle f\u00fbt aussi solide que l'autre. Toutefois,\ncomme je la fis plus \u00e0 loisir, elle m'emporta beaucoup plus de temps.\nLa seule rencontre d'un vestige de pied d'homme me co\u00fbta tout ce\ntravail: je n'avais point encore apper\u00e7u de cr\u00e9ature humaine; et voici\nque depuis deux ans je vivais dans des transes qui rendaient ma vie\nbeaucoup moins confortable qu'auparavant, et que peuvent seuls imaginer\nceux qui savent ce que c'est que d'\u00eatre perp\u00e9tuellement dans les r\u00e9seaux\nde la peur. Je remarquerai ici avec chagrin que les troubles de mon\nesprit influaient extr\u00eamement sur mes soins religieux; car, la crainte\net la frayeur de tomber entre les mains des Sauvages et des cannibales\naccablaient tellement mon c\u0153ur, que je me trouvais rarement en \u00e9tat de\nm'adresser \u00e0 mon Cr\u00e9ateur, au moins avec ce calme rassis et cette\nr\u00e9signation d'\u00e2me qui m'avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 habituels. Je ne priais Dieu que\ndans un grand abattement et dans une douloureuse oppression, j'\u00e9tais\nplein de l'imminence du p\u00e9ril, je m'attendais chaque soir, \u00e0 \u00eatre\nmassacr\u00e9 et d\u00e9vor\u00e9 avant la fin de la nuit. Je puis affirmer par ma\npropre exp\u00e9rience qu'un c\u0153ur rempli de paix, de reconnaissance, d'amour\net d'affection, est beaucoup plus propre \u00e0 la pri\u00e8re qu'un c\u0153ur plein de\nterreur et de confusion; et que, sous la crainte d'un malheur prochain,\nun homme n'est pas plus capable d'accomplir ses devoirs envers Dieu\nqu'il n'est capable de repentance sur le lit de mort. Les troubles\naffectant l'esprit comme les souffrances affectent le corps, ils doivent\n\u00eatre n\u00e9cessairement un aussi grand emp\u00eachement que les maladies: prier\nDieu est purement un acte de l'esprit.\nMais poursuivons.--Apr\u00e8s avoir mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9 une partie de ma petite\nprovision vivante, je parcourus toute l'\u00eele pour chercher un autre lieu\nsecret propre \u00e0 recevoir un pareil d\u00e9p\u00f4t. Un jour, m'avan\u00e7ant vers la\npointe occidentale de l'\u00eele plus que je ne l'avais jamais fait et\npromenant mes regards sur la mer, je crus appercevoir une embarcation\nqui voguait \u00e0 une grande distance. J'avais trouv\u00e9 une ou deux lunettes\nd'approche dans un des coffres de matelot que j'avais sauv\u00e9s de notre\nnavire, mais je ne les avais point sur moi, et l'objet \u00e9tait si \u00e9loign\u00e9\nque je ne pus le distinguer, quoique j'y tinsse mes yeux attach\u00e9s\njusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils fussent incapables de regarder plus long-temps.\n\u00c9tait-ce ou n'\u00e9tait-ce pas un bateau? je ne sais; mais en descendant de\nla colline o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais mont\u00e9, je perdis l'objet de vue et n'y songeai\nplus; seulement je pris la r\u00e9solution de ne plus sortir sans une lunette\ndans ma poche.\nQuand je fus arriv\u00e9 au bas de la colline, \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, o\u00f9\nvraiment je n'\u00e9tais jamais all\u00e9, je fus tout aussit\u00f4t convaincu qu'un\nvestige de pied d'homme n'\u00e9tait pas une chose aussi \u00e9trange en ce lieu\nque je l'imaginais.--Si par une providence sp\u00e9ciale je n'avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9\njet\u00e9 sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele o\u00f9 les Sauvages ne venaient jamais, il\nm'aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 facile de savoir que rien n'\u00e9tait plus ordinaire aux canots\ndu continent, quand il leur advenait de s'\u00e9loigner un peu trop en haute\nmer, de rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 cette portion de mon \u00eele; en outre, que souvent ces\nSauvages se rencontraient dans leurs pirogues, se livraient des combats,\net que les vainqueurs menaient leurs prisonniers sur ce rivage, o\u00f9\nsuivant l'horrible coutume cannibale, ils les tuaient et s'en\nrepaissaient, ainsi qu'on le verra plus tard.\nQuand je fus descendu de la colline, \u00e0 la pointe Sud-Ouest de l'\u00eele,\ncomme je le disais tout-\u00e0-l'heure, je fus profond\u00e9ment atterr\u00e9. Il me\nserait impossible d'exprimer l'horreur qui s'empara de mon \u00e2me \u00e0\nl'aspect du rivage, jonch\u00e9 de cr\u00e2nes, de mains, de pieds et autres\nossements. Je remarquai surtout une place o\u00f9 l'on avait fait du feu, et\nun banc creus\u00e9 en rond dans la terre, comme l'ar\u00e8ne d'un combat de coqs,\no\u00f9 sans doute ces mis\u00e9rables Sauvages s'\u00e9taient plac\u00e9s pour leur atroce\nfestin de chair humaine.\nJe fus si stup\u00e9fi\u00e9 \u00e0 cette vue qu'elle suspendit pour quelque temps\nl'id\u00e9e de mes propres dangers: toutes mes appr\u00e9hensions \u00e9taient\n\u00e9touff\u00e9es sous les impressions que me donnaient un tel abyme d'infernale\nbrutalit\u00e9 et l'horreur d'une telle d\u00e9gradation de la nature humaine.\nJ'avais bien souvent entendu parler de cela, mais jusque-l\u00e0 je n'avais\njamais \u00e9t\u00e9 si pr\u00e8s de cet horrible spectacle. J'en d\u00e9tournai la face,\nmon c\u0153ur se souleva, et je serais tomb\u00e9 en faiblesse si la nature ne\nm'avait soulag\u00e9 aussit\u00f4t par un violent vomissement. Revenu \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame,\nje ne pus rester plus long-temps en ce lieu; je remontai en toute h\u00e2te\nsur la colline, et je me dirigeai vers ma demeure.\nQuand je me fus un peu \u00e9loign\u00e9 de cette partie de l'\u00eele, je m'arr\u00eatai\ntout court comme an\u00e9anti. En recouvrant mes sens, dans toute l'affection\nde mon \u00e2me, je levai au Ciel mes yeux pleins de larmes, et je remerciai\nDieu de ce qu'il m'avait fait na\u00eetre dans une partie du monde \u00e9trang\u00e8re\n\u00e0 d'aussi abominables cr\u00e9atures, et de ce que dans ma condition, que\nj'avais estim\u00e9e si mis\u00e9rable, il m'avait donn\u00e9 tant de consolations que\nje devais plut\u00f4t l'en remercier que m'en plaindre; et par-dessus tout de\nce que dans mon infortune m\u00eame j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 r\u00e9confort\u00e9 par sa\nconnaissance et par l'espoir de ses b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions: f\u00e9licit\u00e9 qui\ncompensait et au-del\u00e0 toutes les mis\u00e8res que j'avais souffertes et que\nje pouvais souffrir encore.\nPlein de ces sentiments de gratitude, je revins \u00e0 mon ch\u00e2teau, et je\ncommen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre beaucoup plus tranquille sur ma position que je ne\nl'avais jamais \u00e9t\u00e9; car je remarquai que ces mis\u00e9rables ne venaient\njamais dans l'\u00eele \u00e0 la recherche de quelque butin, n'ayant ni besoin ni\nsouci de ce qu'elle pouvait renfermer, et ne s'attendant pas \u00e0 y trouver\nquelque chose, apr\u00e8s avoir plusieurs fois, sans doute, explor\u00e9 la partie\ncouverte et bois\u00e9e sans y rien d\u00e9couvrir \u00e0 leur convenance.--J'avais \u00e9t\u00e9\nplus de dix-huit ans sans rencontrer le moindre vestige d'une cr\u00e9ature\nhumaine. Retir\u00e9 comme je l'\u00e9tais alors, je pouvais bien encore en passer\ndix-huit autres, si je ne me trahissais moi-m\u00eame, ce que je pouvais\nfacilement \u00e9viter. Ma seule affaire \u00e9tait donc de me tenir toujours\nparfaitement cach\u00e9 o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, \u00e0 moins que je ne vinsse \u00e0 trouver des\nhommes meilleurs que l'esp\u00e8ce cannibale, des hommes auxquels je pourrais\nme faire conna\u00eetre.\nToutefois je con\u00e7us une telle horreur de ces ex\u00e9crables Sauvages et de\nleur atroce coutume de se manger les uns les autres, de s'entre-d\u00e9vorer,\nque je restai sombre et pensif, et me s\u00e9questrai dans mon propre\ndistrict durant au moins deux ans. Quand je dis mon propre district,\nj'entends par cela mes trois plantations: mon _ch\u00e2teau_, ma _maison de\ncampagne_, que j'appelais ma tonnelle, et mes _parcs_ dans les bois, o\u00f9\nje n'allais absolument que pour mes ch\u00e8vres; car l'aversion que la\nnature me donnait pour ces abominables Sauvages \u00e9tait telle que je\nredoutais leur vue autant que celle du diable. Je ne visitai pas une\nseule fois ma pirogue pendant tout ce temps, mais je commen\u00e7ai de songer\n\u00e0 m'en faire une autre; car je n'aurais pas voulu tenter de naviguer\nautour de l'\u00eele pour ramener cette embarcation dans mes parages, de peur\nd'\u00eatre rencontr\u00e9 en mer par quelques Sauvages: je savais trop bien quel\naurait \u00e9t\u00e9 mon sort si j'eusse eu le malheur de tomber entre leurs\nmains.\nLe temps n\u00e9anmoins et l'assurance o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais de ne courir aucun risque\nd'\u00eatre d\u00e9couvert dissip\u00e8rent mon anxi\u00e9t\u00e9, et je recommen\u00e7ai \u00e0 vivre\ntranquillement, avec cette diff\u00e9rence que j'usais de plus de\npr\u00e9cautions, que j'avais l'\u0153il plus au guet, et que j'\u00e9vitais de tirer\nmon mousquet, de peur d'\u00eatre entendu des Sauvages s'il s'en trouvait\ndans l'\u00eele.\nDIGRESSION HISTORIQUE\nC'\u00e9tait donc une chose fort heureuse pour moi que je ne fusse pourvu\nd'une race de ch\u00e8vres domestiques, afin de ne pas \u00eatre dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9\nde chasser au tir dans les bois. Si par la suite j'attrapai encore\nquelques ch\u00e8vres, ce ne fut qu'au moyen de trappes et de traquenards;\ncar je restai bien deux ans sans tirer une seule fois mon mousquet,\nquoique je ne sortisse jamais sans cette arme. Des trois pistolets que\nj'avais sauv\u00e9s du navire, j'en portais toujours au moins deux \u00e0 ma\nceinture de peau de ch\u00e8vre. J'avais fourbi un de mes grands coutelas que\nj'avais aussi tir\u00e9s du vaisseau, et je m'\u00e9tais fait un ceinturon pour le\nmettre. J'\u00e9tais vraiment formidable \u00e0 voir dans mes sorties, si l'on\najoute \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re description que j'ai faite de moi-m\u00eame les deux\npistolets et le grand sabre qui sans fourreau pendait \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9.\nLes choses se gouvern\u00e8rent ainsi quelque temps. Sauf ces pr\u00e9cautions,\nj'avais repris mon premier genre de vie calme et paisible. Je fus de\nplus en plus amen\u00e9 \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre combien ma condition \u00e9tait loin d'\u00eatre\nmis\u00e9rable au prix de quelques autres m\u00eame de beaucoup d'autres qui, s'il\ne\u00fbt plu \u00e0 Dieu, auraient pu \u00eatre aussi mon sort; et je fis cette\nr\u00e9flexion, qu'il y aurait peu de murmures parmi les hommes, quelle que\nsoit leur situation, s'ils se portaient \u00e0 la reconnaissance en comparant\nleur existence avec celles qui sont pires, plut\u00f4t que de nourrir leurs\nplaintes en jetant sans cesse les regards sur de plus heureuses\npositions.\nComme peu de chose alors me faisait r\u00e9ellement faute, je pense que les\nfrayeurs o\u00f9 m'avaient plong\u00e9 ces m\u00e9chants Sauvages et le soin que\nj'avais pris de ma propre conservation avaient \u00e9mouss\u00e9 mon esprit\nimaginatif dans la recherche de mon bien-\u00eatre. J'avais m\u00eame n\u00e9glig\u00e9 un\nexcellent projet qui m'avait autrefois occup\u00e9: celui d'essayer \u00e0 faire\nde la dr\u00e8ge une partie de mon orge et de brasser de la bi\u00e8re. C'\u00e9tait\nvraiment un dessein bizarre, dont je me reprochais souvent la na\u00efvet\u00e9;\ncar je voyais parfaitement qu'il me manquerait pour son ex\u00e9cution, bien,\ndes choses n\u00e9cessaires auxquelles il me serait impossible de suppl\u00e9er:\nd'abord je n'avais point de tonneaux pour conserver ma bi\u00e8re; et, comme\nje l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait observer, j'avais employ\u00e9 plusieurs jours, plusieurs\nsemaines, voire m\u00eame plusieurs mois, \u00e0 essayer d'en construire, mais\ntout-\u00e0-fait en vain. En second lieu, je n'avais ni houblon pour la\nrendre de bonne garde, ni levure pour la faire fermenter, ni chaudron ni\nchaudi\u00e8re pour la faire bouillir; et cependant, sans l'appr\u00e9hension des\nSauvages, j'aurais entrepris ce travail, et peut-\u00eatre en serais-je venu\n\u00e0 bout; car j'abandonnais rarement une chose avant de l'avoir accomplie,\nquand une fois elle m'\u00e9tait entr\u00e9e dans la t\u00eate assez obstin\u00e9ment pour\nm'y faire mettre la main.\nMais alors mon imagination s'\u00e9tait tourn\u00e9e d'un tout autre c\u00f4t\u00e9: je ne\nfaisais nuit et jour que songer aux moyens de tuer quelques-uns de ces\nmonstres au milieu de leurs f\u00eates sanguinaires, et, s'il \u00e9tait possible,\nde sauver les victimes qu'ils venaient \u00e9gorger sur le rivage. Je\nremplirais un volume plus gros que ne le sera celui-ci tout entier, si\nje consignais touts les stratag\u00e8mes que je combinai, ou plut\u00f4t que je\ncouvai en mon esprit pour d\u00e9truire ces cr\u00e9atures ou au moins les\neffrayer et les d\u00e9go\u00fbter \u00e0 jamais de revenir dans l'\u00eele; mais tout\navortait, mais, livr\u00e9 \u00e0 mes propres ressources, rien ne pouvait\ns'effectuer. Que pouvait faire un seul homme contre vingt ou trente\nSauvages arm\u00e9s de sagaies ou d'arcs et de fl\u00e8ches, dont ils se servaient\naussi \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr que je pouvais faire de mon mousquet?\nQuelquefois je songeais \u00e0 creuser un trou sous l'endroit qui leur\nservait d'\u00e2tre, pour y placer cinq ou six livres de poudre \u00e0 canon, qui,\nvenant \u00e0 s'enflammer lorsqu'ils allumeraient leur feu, feraient sauter\ntout ce qui serait \u00e0 l'entour. Mais il me f\u00e2chait de prodiguer tant de\npoudre, ma provision n'\u00e9tant plus alors que d'un baril, sans avoir la\ncertitude que l'explosion se ferait en temps donn\u00e9 pour les surprendre:\nelle pouvait fort bien ne leur griller que les oreilles et les effrayer,\nce qui n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 suffisant pour leur faire \u00e9vacuer la place. Je\nrenon\u00e7ai donc \u00e0 ce projet, et je me proposai alors de me poster en\nembuscade, en un lieu convenable, avec mes trois mousquets charg\u00e9s \u00e0\ndeux balles, et de faire feu au beau milieu de leur sanglante c\u00e9r\u00e9monie\nquand je serais s\u00fbr d'en tuer ou d'en blesser deux ou trois peut-\u00eatre \u00e0\nchaque coup. Fondant ensuite sur eux avec mes trois pistolets et mon\nsabre, je ne doutais pas, fussent-ils vingt, de les tuer touts. Cette\nid\u00e9e me sourit pendant quelques semaines, et j'en \u00e9tais si plein que\nj'en r\u00eavais souvent, et que dans mon sommeil je me voyais quelquefois\njuste au moment de faire feu sur les Sauvages.\nJ'allai si loin dans mon indignation, que j'employai plusieurs jours \u00e0\nchercher un lieu propre \u00e0 me mettre en embuscade pour les \u00e9pier, et que\nm\u00eame je me rendis fr\u00e9quemment \u00e0 l'endroit de leurs festins, avec lequel\nje commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 me familiariser, surtout dans ces moments o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais\nrempli de sentiments de vengeance, et de l'id\u00e9e d'en passer vingt ou\ntrente au fil de l'\u00e9p\u00e9e; mais mon animosit\u00e9 reculait devant l'horreur\nque je ressentais \u00e0 cette place et \u00e0 l'aspect des traces de ces\nmis\u00e9rables barbares s'entre-d\u00e9vorant.\nEnfin je trouvai un lieu favorable sur le versant de la colline, o\u00f9 je\npouvais guetter en s\u00fbret\u00e9 l'arriv\u00e9e de leurs pirogues, puis, avant m\u00eame\nqu'ils n'aient abord\u00e9 au rivage, me glisser inapper\u00e7u dans un massif\nd'arbres dont un avait un creux assez grand pour me cacher tout entier.\nL\u00e0 je pouvais me poster et observer toutes leurs abominables actions, et\nles viser \u00e0 la t\u00eate quand ils se trouveraient touts ensemble, et si\nserr\u00e9s, qu'il me serait presque impossible de manquer mon coup et de ne\npas en blesser trois ou quatre \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge.\nR\u00e9solu d'accomplir en ce lieu mon dessein, je pr\u00e9parai en cons\u00e9quence\ndeux mousquets et mon fusil de chasse ordinaire: je chargeai les deux\nmousquets avec chacun deux lingots et quatre ou cinq balles de calibre\nde pistolet, mon fusil de chasse d'une poign\u00e9e de grosses chevrotines et\nmes pistolets de chacun quatre balles. Dans cet \u00e9tat, bien pourvu de\nmunitions pour une seconde et une troisi\u00e8me charge, je me disposai \u00e0 me\nmettre en campagne.\nUne fois que j'eus ainsi arr\u00eat\u00e9 le plan de mon exp\u00e9dition et qu'en\nimagination je l'eus mis en pratique, je me rendis r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement chaque\nmatin sur le sommet de la colline \u00e9loign\u00e9e de mon ch\u00e2teau d'environ\ntrois milles au plus, pour voir si je ne d\u00e9couvrirais pas en mer\nquelques bateaux abordant \u00e0 l'\u00eele ou faisant route de son c\u00f4t\u00e9. Mais\napr\u00e8s deux ou trois mois de faction assidue, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me lasser de\ncette fatigue, m'en retournant toujours sans avoir fait aucune\nd\u00e9couverte. Durant tout ce temps je n'entrevis pas la moindre chose,\nnon-seulement sur ou pr\u00e8s le rivage, mais sur la surface de l'Oc\u00e9an,\naussi loin que ma vue ou mes lunettes d'approche pouvaient s'\u00e9tendre de\ntoutes parts.\nAussi long-temps que je fis ma tourn\u00e9e journali\u00e8re \u00e0 la colline mon\ndessein subsista dans toute sa vigueur, et mon esprit me parut toujours\n\u00eatre en disposition convenable pour ex\u00e9cuter l'outrageux massacre d'une\ntrentaine de Sauvages sans d\u00e9fense, et cela pour un crime dont la\ndiscussion ne m'\u00e9tait pas m\u00eame entr\u00e9e dans l'esprit, ma col\u00e8re s'\u00e9tant\ntout d'abord enflamm\u00e9e par l'horreur que j'avais con\u00e7ue de la\nmonstrueuse coutume du peuple de cette contr\u00e9e, \u00e0 qui, ce semble, la\nProvidence avait permis, en sa sage disposition du monde, de n'avoir\nd'autre guide que leurs propres passions perverses et abominables, et\nqui par cons\u00e9quent \u00e9taient livr\u00e9s peut-\u00eatre depuis plusieurs si\u00e8cles \u00e0\ncette horrible coutume, qu'ils recevaient par tradition, et o\u00f9 rien ne\npouvait les porter, qu'une nature enti\u00e8rement abandonn\u00e9e du Ciel et\nentra\u00een\u00e9e par une infernale d\u00e9pravation.--Mais lorsque je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me\nlasser, comme je l'ai dit, de cette infructueuse excursion que je\nfaisais chaque matin si loin et depuis si long-temps, mon opinion\nelle-m\u00eame commen\u00e7a aussi \u00e0 changer, et je consid\u00e9rai avec plus de calme\net de sang-froid la m\u00eal\u00e9e o\u00f9 j'allais m'engager. Quelle autorit\u00e9, quelle\nmission avais-je pour me pr\u00e9tendre juge et bourreau de ces hommes\ncriminels lorsque Dieu avait d\u00e9cr\u00e9t\u00e9 convenable de les laisser impunis\ndurant plusieurs si\u00e8cles, pour qu'ils fussent en quelque sorte les\nex\u00e9cuteurs r\u00e9ciproques de ses jugements? Ces peuples \u00e9taient loin de\nm'avoir offens\u00e9, de quel droit m'immiscer \u00e0 la querelle de sang qu'ils\nvidaient entre eux?--Fort souvent s'\u00e9levait en moi ce d\u00e9bat: Comment\npuis-je savoir ce que Dieu lui-m\u00eame juge en ce cas tout particulier? Il\nest certain que ces peuples ne consid\u00e8rent pas ceci comme un crime; ce\nn'est point r\u00e9prouv\u00e9 par leur conscience, leurs lumi\u00e8res ne le leur\nreprochent point. Ils ignorent que c'est mal, et ne le commettent point\npour braver la justice divine, comme nous faisons dans presque touts les\np\u00e9ch\u00e9s dont nous nous rendons coupables. Ils ne pensent pas plus que ce\nsoit un crime de tuer un prisonnier de guerre que nous de tuer un b\u0153uf,\net de manger de la chair humaine que nous de manger du mouton.\nDe ces r\u00e9flexions il s'ensuivit n\u00e9cessairement que j'\u00e9tais injuste, et\nque ces peuples n'\u00e9taient pas plus des meurtriers dans le sens que je\nles avais d'abord condamn\u00e9s en mon esprit, que ces Chr\u00e9tiens qui souvent\nmettent \u00e0 mort les prisonniers faits dans le combat, ou qui plus souvent\nencore passent sans quartier des arm\u00e9es enti\u00e8res au fil de l'\u00e9p\u00e9e,\nquoiqu'elles aient mis bas les armes et se soient soumises.\nTout brutal et inhumain que pouvait \u00eatre l'usage de s'entre-d\u00e9vorer, il\nme vint ensuite \u00e0 l'esprit que cela r\u00e9ellement ne me regardait en rien:\nces peuples ne m'avaient point offens\u00e9; s'ils attentaient \u00e0 ma vie ou si\nje voyais que pour ma propre conservation il me fall\u00fbt tomber sur eux,\nil n'y aurait rien \u00e0 redire \u00e0 cela; mais \u00e9tant hors de leur pouvoir,\nmais ces gens n'ayant aucune connaissance de moi, et par cons\u00e9quent\naucun projet sur moi, il n'\u00e9tait pas juste de les assaillir: c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\njustifier la conduite des Espagnols et toutes les atrocit\u00e9s qu'ils\npratiqu\u00e8rent en Am\u00e9rique, o\u00f9 ils ont d\u00e9truit des millions de ces\npeuples, qui, bien qu'ils fussent idol\u00e2tres et barbares, et qu'ils\nobservassent quelques rites sanglants, tels que de faire des sacrifices\nhumains, n'\u00e9taient pas moins de fort innocentes gens par rapport aux\nEspagnols. Aussi, aujourd'hui, les Espagnols eux-m\u00eames et toutes les\nautres nations chr\u00e9tiennes de l'Europe parlent-ils de cette\nextermination avec la plus profonde horreur et la plus profonde\nex\u00e9cration, et comme d'une boucherie et d'une \u0153uvre monstrueuse de\ncruaut\u00e9 et de sang, injustifiable devant Dieu et devant les hommes! Par\nl\u00e0 le nom d'_Espagnol_ est devenu odieux et terrible pour toute \u00e2me\npleine d'humanit\u00e9 ou de compassion chr\u00e9tienne; comme si l'Espagne \u00e9tait\nseule vou\u00e9e \u00e0 la production d'une race d'hommes sans entrailles pour les\nmalheureux, et sans principes de cette tol\u00e9rance marque av\u00e9r\u00e9e des c\u0153urs\nmagnanimes.\nCes consid\u00e9rations m'arr\u00eat\u00e8rent. Je fis une sorte de halte, et je\ncommen\u00e7ai petit \u00e0 petit \u00e0 me d\u00e9tourner de mon dessein et \u00e0 conclure que\nc'\u00e9tait une chose injuste que ma r\u00e9solution d'attaquer les Sauvages; que\nmon affaire n'\u00e9tait point d'en venir aux mains avec eux, \u00e0 moins qu'ils\nne m'assaillissent les premiers, ce qu'il me fallait pr\u00e9venir autant que\npossible. Je savais d'ailleurs quel \u00e9tait mon devoir s'ils venaient \u00e0 me\nd\u00e9couvrir et \u00e0 m'attaquer.\nLA CAVERNE\nD'un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, je reconnus que ce projet serait le s\u00fbr moyen non\nd'arriver \u00e0 ma d\u00e9livrance, mais \u00e0 ma ruine totale et \u00e0 ma perte, \u00e0 moins\nque je ne fusse assur\u00e9 de tuer non-seulement touts ceux qui seraient\nalors \u00e0 terre, mais encore touts ceux qui pourraient y venir plus tard;\ncar si un seul m'\u00e9chappait pour aller dire \u00e0 ses compatriotes ce qui\n\u00e9tait advenu, ils reviendraient par milliers venger la mort de leurs\ncompagnons, et je n'aurais donc fait qu'attirer sur moi une destruction\ncertaine, dont je n'\u00e9tais point menac\u00e9.\nSomme toute, je conclus que ni en morale ni en politique, je ne devais\nen aucune fa\u00e7on m'entremettre dans ce d\u00e9m\u00eal\u00e9; que mon unique affaire\n\u00e9tait par touts les moyens possibles de me tenir cach\u00e9, et de ne pas\nlaisser la moindre trace qui p\u00fbt faire conjecturer qu'il y avait dans\nl'\u00eele quelque cr\u00e9ature vivante, j'entends de forme humaine.\nLa religion se joignant \u00e0 la prudence, j'acquis alors la conviction que\nj'\u00e9tais tout-\u00e0-fait sorti de mes devoirs en concertant des plans\nsanguinaires pour la destruction d'innocentes cr\u00e9atures, j'entends\ninnocentes par rapport \u00e0 moi. Quant \u00e0 leurs crimes, ils s'en rendaient\ncoupables les uns envers les autres, je n'avais rien \u00e0 y faire. Pour les\noffenses nationales il est des punitions nationales, et c'est \u00e0 Dieu\nqu'il appartient d'infliger des ch\u00e2timents publics \u00e0 ceux qui l'ont\npubliquement offens\u00e9.\nTout cela me parut si \u00e9vident, que ce fut une grande satisfaction pour\nmoi d'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9serv\u00e9 de commettre une action qui e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9, je le\nvoyais alors avec raison, tout aussi criminelle qu'un meurtre\nvolontaire. \u00c0 deux genoux je rendis gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu de ce qu'il avait ainsi\nd\u00e9tourn\u00e9 de moi cette tache de sang, en le suppliant de m'accorder la\nprotection de sa providence, afin que je ne tombasse pas entre les mains\ndes barbares, ou que je ne portasse pas mes mains sur eux \u00e0 moins\nd'avoir re\u00e7u du Ciel la mission manifeste de le faire pour la d\u00e9fense de\nma vie.\nJe restai pr\u00e8s d'une ann\u00e9e enti\u00e8re dans cette disposition. J'\u00e9tais si\n\u00e9loign\u00e9 de rechercher l'occasion de tomber sur les Sauvages, que durant\ntout ce temps je ne montai pas une fois sur la colline pour voir si je\nn'en d\u00e9couvrirais pas, pour savoir s'ils \u00e9taient ou n'\u00e9taient pas venus\nsur le rivage, de peur de r\u00e9veiller mes projets contre eux ou d'\u00eatre\ntent\u00e9 de les assaillir par quelque occasion avantageuse qui se\npr\u00e9senterait. Je ramenai seulement mon canot, qui \u00e9tait sur l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde l'\u00eele, et le conduisis \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 orientale. L\u00e0 je le halai dans\nune petite anse que je trouvai au pied de quelques roches \u00e9lev\u00e9es, o\u00f9 je\nsavais qu'en raison des courants les Sauvages n'oseraient pas ou au\nmoins ne voudraient pas venir avec leurs pirogues pour quelque raison\nque ce f\u00fbt.\nJ'emportai avec mon canot tout ce qui en d\u00e9pendait, et que j'avais\nlaiss\u00e9 l\u00e0, c'est-\u00e0-dire un m\u00e2t, une voile, et cette chose en mani\u00e8re\nd'ancre, mais qu'au fait je ne saurais appeler ni ancre ni grappin:\nc'\u00e9tait pourtant ce que j'avais pu faire de mieux. Je transportai toutes\nces choses, pour que rien ne p\u00fbt provoquer une d\u00e9couverte et pour ne\nlaisser aucun indice d'embarcation ou d'habitation dans l'\u00eele.\nHors cela je me tins, comme je l'ai dit, plus retir\u00e9 que jamais, ne\nsortant gu\u00e8re de ma cellule que pour mes occupations habituelles,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire pour traire mes ch\u00e8vres et soigner mon petit troupeau dans\nles bois, qui, parqu\u00e9 tout-\u00e0-fait de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, \u00e9tait \u00e0\ncouvert de tout danger; car il est positif que les Sauvages qui\nhantaient l'\u00eele n'y venaient jamais dans le but d'y trouver quelque\nchose, et par cons\u00e9quent ne s'\u00e9cartaient jamais de la c\u00f4te; et je ne\ndoute pas qu'apr\u00e8s que mes appr\u00e9hensions m'eurent rendu si pr\u00e9cautionn\u00e9,\nils ne soient descendus \u00e0 terre plusieurs fois tout aussi bien\nqu'auparavant. Je ne pouvais r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sans horreur \u00e0 ce qu'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 mon\nsort si je les eusse rencontr\u00e9s et si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9couvert autrefois,\nquand, nu et d\u00e9sarm\u00e9, n'ayant pour ma d\u00e9fense qu'un fusil qui souvent\nn'\u00e9tait charg\u00e9 que de petit plomb, je parcourais toute mon \u00eele, guignant\net furetant pour voir si je n'attraperais rien. Quelle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 alors ma\nterreur si, au lieu du d\u00e9couvrir l'empreinte d'un pied d'homme, j'eusse\napper\u00e7u quinze ou vingt Sauvages qui m'eussent donn\u00e9 la chasse, et si je\nn'eusse pu \u00e9chapper \u00e0 la vitesse de leur course?\nQuelquefois ces pens\u00e9es oppressaient mon \u00e2me, et affaissaient tellement\nmon esprit, que je ne pouvais de long-temps recouvrer assez de calme\npour songer \u00e0 ce que j'eusse fait. Non-seulement je n'aurais pu opposer\nquelque r\u00e9sistance, mais je n'aurais m\u00eame pas eu assez de pr\u00e9sence\nd'esprit pour m'aider des moyens qui auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 en mon pouvoir, moyens\nbien inf\u00e9rieurs \u00e0 ceux que je poss\u00e9dais \u00e0 cette heure, apr\u00e8s tant de\nconsid\u00e9rations et de pr\u00e9parations. Quand ces id\u00e9es m'avaient\ns\u00e9rieusement occup\u00e9, je tombais dans une grande m\u00e9lancolie qui parfois\ndurait fort long-temps, mais qui se r\u00e9solvait enfin en sentiments de\ngratitude envers la Providence, qui m'avait d\u00e9livr\u00e9 de tant de p\u00e9rils\ninvisibles, et pr\u00e9serv\u00e9 de tant de malheurs dont j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 incapable\nde m'affranchir moi-m\u00eame, car je n'avais pas le moindre soup\u00e7on de leur\nimminence ou de leur possibilit\u00e9.\nTout ceci renouvela une r\u00e9flexion qui m'\u00e9tait souvent venue en l'esprit\nlorsque je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 comprendre les b\u00e9nignes dispositions du Ciel \u00e0\nl'\u00e9gard des dangers que nous traversons dans cette vie: Que de fois nous\nsommes merveilleusement d\u00e9livr\u00e9s sans en rien savoir! que de fois, quand\nnous sommes en suspens,--comme on dit,--dans le doute ou l'h\u00e9sitation du\nchemin que nous avons \u00e0 prendre, un vent secret nous pousse vers une\nautre route que celle o\u00f9 nous tendions, o\u00f9 nous appelaient nos sens,\nnotre inclination et peut-\u00eatre m\u00eame nos devoirs! Nous ressentons une\n\u00e9trange impression de l'ignorance o\u00f9 nous sommes des causes et du\npouvoir qui nous entra\u00eenent: mais nous d\u00e9couvrons ensuite que, si nous\navions suivi la route que nous voulions prendre et que notre imagination\nnous faisait une obligation de prendre, nous aurions couru \u00e0 notre ruine\net \u00e0 notre perte.--Par ces r\u00e9flexions et par quelques autres semblables\nje fus amen\u00e9 \u00e0 me faire une r\u00e8gle d'ob\u00e9ir \u00e0 cette inspiration secr\u00e8te\ntoutes les fois que mon esprit serait dans l'incertitude de faire ou de\nne pas faire une chose, de suivre ou de ne pas suivre un chemin, sans en\navoir d'autre raison que le sentiment ou l'impression m\u00eame pesant sur\nmon \u00e2me. Je pourrais donner plusieurs exemples du succ\u00e8s de cette\nconduite dans tout le cours de ma vie, et surtout dans la derni\u00e8re\npartie de mon s\u00e9jour dans cette \u00eele infortun\u00e9e, sans compter quelques\nautres occasions que j'aurais probablement observ\u00e9es si j'eusse vu alors\ndu m\u00eame \u0153il que je vois aujourd'hui. Mais il n'est jamais trop tard pour\n\u00eatre sage, et je ne puis que conseiller \u00e0 tout homme judicieux dont la\nvie est expos\u00e9e \u00e0 des \u00e9v\u00e9nements extraordinaires comme le fut la mienne,\nou m\u00eame \u00e0 de moindres \u00e9v\u00e9nements, de ne jamais m\u00e9priser de pareils\navertissements intimes de la Providence, ou de n'importe quelle\nintelligence invisible il voudra. Je ne discuterai pas l\u00e0-dessus,\npeut-\u00eatre ne saurais-je en rendre compte, mais certainement c'est une\npreuve du commerce et de la myst\u00e9rieuse communication entre les esprits\nunis \u00e0 des corps et ceux immat\u00e9riels, preuve incontestable que j'aurai\noccasion de confirmer dans le reste de ma r\u00e9sidence solitaire sur cette\nterre fatale.\nLe lecteur, je pense, ne trouvera pas \u00e9trange si j'avoue que ces\nanxi\u00e9t\u00e9s, ces dangers dans lesquels je passais ma vie, avaient mis fin \u00e0\nmon industrie et \u00e0 toutes les am\u00e9liorations que j'avais projet\u00e9es pour\nmon bien-\u00eatre. J'\u00e9tais alors plus occup\u00e9 du soin de ma s\u00fbret\u00e9 que du\nsoin de ma nourriture. De peur que le bruit que je pourrais faire ne\ns'entend\u00eet, je ne me souciais plus alors d'enfoncer un clou, de couper\nun morceau de bois, et, pour la m\u00eame raison, encore moins de tirer mon\nmousquet. Ce n'\u00e9tait qu'avec la plus grande inqui\u00e9tude que je faisais du\nfeu, \u00e0 cause de la fum\u00e9e, qui, dans le jour, \u00e9tant visible \u00e0 une grande\ndistance, aurait pu me trahir; et c'\u00e9tait pour cela que j'avais\ntransport\u00e9 la fabrication de cette partie de mes objets qui demandaient\nl'emploi du feu, comme la cuisson de mes pots et de mes pipes, dans ma\nnouvelle habitation des bois, o\u00f9, apr\u00e8s \u00eatre all\u00e9 quelque temps, je\nd\u00e9couvris \u00e0 mon grand ravissement une caverne naturelle, o\u00f9 j'ose dire\nque jamais Sauvage ni quelque homme que ce soit qui serait parvenu \u00e0 son\nouverture n'aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 assez hardi pour p\u00e9n\u00e9trer, \u00e0 moins qu'il n'e\u00fbt eu\ncomme moi un besoin absolu d'une retraite assur\u00e9e.\nL'entr\u00e9e de cette caverne \u00e9tait au fond d'un grand rocher, o\u00f9, par un\npur hasard,--dirais-je si je n'avais mille raisons d'attribuer toutes\nces choses \u00e0 la Providence,--je coupais de grosses branches d'arbre pour\nfaire du charbon. Avant de poursuivre, je dois faire savoir pourquoi je\nfaisais ce charbon, ce que voici:\nJe craignais de faire de la fum\u00e9e autour de mon habitation, comme je\nl'ai dit tant\u00f4t; cependant, comme je ne pouvais vivre sans faire cuire\nmon pain et ma viande, j'avais donc imagin\u00e9 de faire br\u00fbler du bois sous\ndes mottes de gazon, comme je l'avais vu pratiquer en Angleterre. Quand\nil \u00e9tait en consomption, j'\u00e9teignais le brasier et je conservais le\ncharbon, pour l'emporter chez moi et l'employer sans risque de fum\u00e9e \u00e0\ntout ce qui r\u00e9clamait l'usage du feu.\nMais que cela soit dit en passant. Tandis que l\u00e0 j'abattais du bois,\nj'avais donc apper\u00e7u derri\u00e8re l'\u00e9pais branchage d'un hallier une esp\u00e8ce\nde cavit\u00e9, dont je fus curieux de voir l'int\u00e9rieur. Parvenu, non sans\ndifficult\u00e9, \u00e0 son embouchure, je trouvai qu'il \u00e9tait assez spacieux,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire assez pour que je pusse m'y tenir debout, moi et peut-\u00eatre\nune seconde personne; mais je dois avouer que je me retirai avec plus de\nh\u00e2te que je n'\u00e9tais entr\u00e9, lorsque, portant mes regards vers le fond de\ncet antre, qui \u00e9tait enti\u00e8rement obscur, j'y vis deux grands yeux\nbrillants. \u00c9taient-ils de diable ou d'homme, je ne savais; mais la\nsombre lueur de l'embouchure de la caverne s'y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissant, ils\n\u00e9tincelaient comme deux \u00e9toiles.\nToutefois, apr\u00e8s une courte pause, je revins \u00e0 moi, me traitant mille\nfois de fou, et me disant que ce n'\u00e9tait pas \u00e0 celui qui avait v\u00e9cu\nvingt ans tout seul dans cette \u00eele \u00e0 s'effrayer du diable, et que je\ndevais croire qu'il n'y avait rien dans cet antre de plus effroyable que\nmoi-m\u00eame. L\u00e0-dessus, reprenant courage, je saisis un tison enflamm\u00e9 et\nme pr\u00e9cipitai dans la caverne avec ce brandon \u00e0 la main. Je n'y eus pas\nfait trois pas que je fus presque aussi effray\u00e9 qu'auparavant; car\nj'entendis un profond soupir pareil \u00e0 celui d'une \u00e2me en peine, puis un\nbruit entrecoup\u00e9 comme des paroles \u00e0 demi articul\u00e9es, puis encore un\nprofond soupir. Je reculai tellement stup\u00e9fi\u00e9, qu'une sueur froide me\nsaisit, et que si j'eusse eu mon chapeau sur ma t\u00eate, assur\u00e9ment mes\ncheveux l'auraient jet\u00e9 \u00e0 terre. Mais, rassemblant encore mes esprits du\nmieux qu'il me fut possible, et ranimant un peu mon courage en songeant\nque le pouvoir et la pr\u00e9sence de Dieu r\u00e8gnent partout et partout\npouvaient me prot\u00e9ger, je m'avan\u00e7ai de nouveau, et \u00e0 la lueur de ma\ntorche, que je tenais au-dessus de ma t\u00eate, je vis gisant sur la terre\nun vieux, un monstrueux et \u00e9pouvantable bouc, semblant, comme on dit,\nlutter avec la mort; il se mourait de vieillesse.\nJe le poussai un peu pour voir s'il serait possible de le faire sortir;\nil essaya de se lever, mais en vain. Alors je pensai qu'il pouvait fort\nbien rester l\u00e0, car de m\u00eame qu'il m'avait effray\u00e9, il pourrait, tant\nqu'il aurait un souffle de vie, effrayer les Sauvages s'il s'en trouvait\nd'assez hardis pour p\u00e9n\u00e9trer en ce repaire.\nFESTIN\nRevenu alors de mon trouble, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 regarder autour de moi et je\ntrouvai cette caverne fort petite: elle pouvait avoir environ douze\npieds; mais elle \u00e9tait sans figure r\u00e9guli\u00e8re, ni ronde ni carr\u00e9e, car la\nmain de la nature y avait seule travaill\u00e9. Je remarquai aussi sur le\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 le plus profond une ouverture qui s'enfon\u00e7ait plus avant, mais si\nbasse, que je fus oblig\u00e9 de me tra\u00eener sur les mains et sur les genoux\npour y passer. O\u00f9 aboutissait-elle, je l'ignorais. N'ayant point de\nflambeau, je remis la partie \u00e0 une autre fois, et je r\u00e9solus de revenir\nle lendemain pourvu de chandelles, et d'un briquet que j'avais fait avec\nune batterie de mousquet dans le bassinet de laquelle je mettais une\npi\u00e8ce d'artifice.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, le jour suivant je revins muni de six grosses chandelles\nde ma fa\u00e7on,--car alors je m'en fabriquais de tr\u00e8s-bonnes avec du suif\nde ch\u00e8vre;--j'allai \u00e0 l'ouverture \u00e9troite, et je fus oblig\u00e9 de ramper \u00e0\nquatre pieds, comme je l'ai dit, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s l'espace de dix verges: ce\nqui, je pense, \u00e9tait une tentative assez t\u00e9m\u00e9raire, puisque je ne savais\npas jusqu'o\u00f9 ce souterrain pouvait aller, ni ce qu'il y avait au bout.\nQuand j'eus pass\u00e9 ce d\u00e9fil\u00e9 je me trouvai sous une vo\u00fbte d'environ vingt\npieds de hauteur. Je puis affirmer que dans toute l'\u00eele il n'y avait pas\nun spectacle plus magnifique \u00e0 voir que les parois et le berceau de\ncette vo\u00fbte ou de cette caverne. Ils r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissaient mes deux chandelles\nde cent mille mani\u00e8res. Qu'y avait-il dans le roc? \u00c9taient-ce des\ndiamants ou d'autres pierreries, ou de l'or,--ce que je suppose plus\nvolontiers?--je l'ignorais.\nBien que tout-\u00e0-fait sombre, c'\u00e9tait la plus d\u00e9licieuse grotte qu'on\npuisse se figurer. L'aire en \u00e9tait unie et s\u00e8che et couverte d'une sorte\nde gravier fin et mouvant. On n'y voyait point d'animaux immondes, et il\nn'y avait ni eau ni humidit\u00e9 sur les parois de la vo\u00fbte. La seule\ndifficult\u00e9, c'\u00e9tait l'entr\u00e9e; difficult\u00e9 que toutefois je consid\u00e9rais\ncomme un avantage, puisqu'elle en faisait une place forte, un abri s\u00fbr\ndont j'avais besoin. Je fus vraiment ravi de ma d\u00e9couverte, et je\nr\u00e9solus de transporter sans d\u00e9lai dans cette retraite tout ce dont la\nconservation m'importait le plus, surtout ma poudre et toutes mes armes\nde r\u00e9serve, c'est-\u00e0-dire deux de mes trois fusils de chasse et trois de\nmes mousquets: j'en avais huit. \u00c0 mon ch\u00e2teau je n'en laissai donc que\ncinq, qui sur ma redoute ext\u00e9rieure demeuraient toujours braqu\u00e9s comme\ndes pi\u00e8ces de canon, et que je pouvais \u00e9galement prendre en cas\nd'exp\u00e9dition.\nPour ce transport de mes munitions je fus oblig\u00e9 d'ouvrir le baril de\npoudre que j'avais retir\u00e9 de la mer et qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mouill\u00e9. Je trouvai\nque l'eau avait p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de touts c\u00f4t\u00e9s \u00e0 la profondeur de trois ou\nquatre pouces, et que la poudre d\u00e9tremp\u00e9e avait en se s\u00e9chant form\u00e9 une\ncro\u00fbte qui avait conserv\u00e9 l'int\u00e9rieur comme un fruit dans sa coque; de\nsorte qu'il y avait bien au centre du tonneau soixante livres de bonne\npoudre: ce fut une agr\u00e9able d\u00e9couverte pour moi en ce moment. Je\nl'emportai toute \u00e0 ma caverne, sauf deux ou trois livres que je gardai\ndans mon ch\u00e2teau, de peur de n'importe quelle surprise. J'y portai aussi\ntout le plomb que j'avais r\u00e9serv\u00e9 pour me faire des balles.\nJe me croyais alors semblable \u00e0 ces anciens g\u00e9ants qui vivaient, dit-on,\ndans des cavernes et des trous de rocher inaccessibles; car j'\u00e9tais\npersuad\u00e9 que, r\u00e9fugi\u00e9 en ce lieu, je ne pourrais \u00eatre d\u00e9pist\u00e9 par les\nSauvages, fussent-ils cinq cents \u00e0 me pourchasser; ou que, s'ils le\nfaisaient, ils ne voudraient point se hasarder \u00e0 m'y donner l'attaque.\nLe vieux bouc que j'avais trouv\u00e9 expirant mourut \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e de la\ncaverne le lendemain du jour o\u00f9 j'en fis la d\u00e9couverte. Il me parut plus\ncommode, au lieu de le tirer dehors, de creuser un grand trou, de l'y\njeter et de le recouvrir de terre. Je l'enterrai ainsi pour me pr\u00e9server\nde toute odeur infecte.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors dans la vingt-troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de ma r\u00e9sidence dans cette\n\u00eele, et si accoutum\u00e9 \u00e0 ce s\u00e9jour et \u00e0 mon genre de vie, que si j'eusse\neu l'assurance que les Sauvages ne viendraient point me troubler,\nj'aurais volontiers sign\u00e9 la capitulation de passer l\u00e0 le reste de mes\njours jusqu'au dernier moment, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je fusse gisant, et que je\nmourusse comme le vieux bouc dans la caverne. Je m'\u00e9tais m\u00e9nag\u00e9 quelques\ndistractions et quelques amusements qui faisaient passer le temps plus\nvite et plus agr\u00e9ablement qu'autrefois. J'avais, comme je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit,\nappris \u00e0 parler \u00e0 mon Poll; et il le faisait si famili\u00e8rement, et il\narticulait si distinctement, si pleinement, que c'\u00e9tait pour moi un\ngrand plaisir de l'entendre. Il v\u00e9cut avec moi non moins de vingt-six\nans: combien v\u00e9cut-il ensuite? je l'ignore. On pr\u00e9tend au Br\u00e9sil que ces\nanimaux peuvent vivre cent ans. Peut-\u00eatre quelques-uns de mes perroquets\nexistent-ils encore et appellent-ils encore en ce moment le pauvre Robin\nCRUSOE. Je ne souhaite pas qu'un Anglais ait le malheur d'aborder mon\n\u00eele et de les y entendre jaser; mais si cela advenait, assur\u00e9ment il\ncroirait que c'est le diable. Mon chien me fut un tr\u00e8s-agr\u00e9able et\ntr\u00e8s-fid\u00e8le compagnon pendant seize ans: il mourut de pure vieillesse.\nQuant \u00e0 mes chats, ils multipli\u00e8rent, comme je l'ai dit, et \u00e0 un tel\npoint que je fus d'abord oblig\u00e9 d'en tuer plusieurs pour les emp\u00eacher de\nme d\u00e9vorer moi et tout ce que j'avais. Mais enfin, apr\u00e8s la mort des\ndeux vieux que j'avais apport\u00e9s du navire, les ayant pendant quelque\ntemps continuellement chass\u00e9s et laiss\u00e9s sans nourriture, ils\ns'enfuirent touts dans les bois et devinrent sauvages, except\u00e9 deux ou\ntrois favoris que je gardai aupr\u00e8s de moi. Ils faisaient partie de ma\nfamille; mais j'eus toujours grand soin quand ils mettaient bas de noyer\ntouts leurs petits. En outre je gardai toujours autour de moi deux ou\ntrois chevreaux domestiques que j'avais accoutum\u00e9s \u00e0 manger dans ma\nmain, et deux autres perroquets qui jasaient assez bien pour dire Robin\nCRUSOE, pas aussi bien toutefois que le premier: \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, pour eux\nje ne m'\u00e9tais pas donn\u00e9 autant de peine. J'avais aussi quelques oiseaux\nde mer apprivois\u00e9s dont je ne sais pas les noms; je les avais attrap\u00e9s\nsur le rivage et leur avais coup\u00e9 les ailes. Les petits pieux que\nj'avais plant\u00e9s en avant de la muraille de mon ch\u00e2teau \u00e9tant devenus un\nbocage \u00e9pais et touffu, ces oiseaux y nichaient et y pondaient parmi les\narbrisseaux, ce qui \u00e9tait fort agr\u00e9able pour moi. En r\u00e9sum\u00e9, comme je le\ndisais tant\u00f4t, j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 fort content de la vie que je menais si elle\nn'avait point \u00e9t\u00e9 troubl\u00e9e par la crainte des Sauvages.\nMais il en \u00e9tait ordonn\u00e9 autrement. Pour touts ceux qui liront mon\nhistoire il ne saurait \u00eatre hors de propos de faire cette juste\nobservation: Que de fois n'arrive-t-il pas, dans le cours de notre vie,\nque le mal que nous cherchons le plus \u00e0 \u00e9viter, et qui nous para\u00eet le\nplus terrible quand nous y sommes tomb\u00e9s, soit la porte de notre\nd\u00e9livrance, l'unique moyen de sortir de notre affliction! Je pourrais en\ntrouver beaucoup d'exemples dans le cours de mon \u00e9trange vie; mais\njamais cela n'a \u00e9t\u00e9 plus remarquable que dans les derni\u00e8res ann\u00e9es de ma\nr\u00e9sidence solitaire dans cette \u00eele.\nCe fut au mois de d\u00e9cembre de la vingt-troisi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon s\u00e9jour,\ncomme je l'ai dit, \u00e0 l'\u00e9poque du solstice m\u00e9ridional,--car je ne puis\nl'appeler solstice d'hiver,--temps particulier de ma moisson, qui\nm'appelai presque toujours aux champs, qu'un matin, sortant de\ntr\u00e8s-bonne heure avant m\u00eame le point du jour, je fus surpris de voir la\nlueur d'un feu sur le rivage, \u00e0 la distance d'environ deux milles, vers\nl'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de l'\u00eele o\u00f9 j'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 observ\u00e9 que les Sauvages \u00e9taient\nvenus; mais ce n'\u00e9tait point cette fois sur l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, mais bien, \u00e0\nma grande affliction, sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 que j'habitais.\n\u00c0 cette vue, horriblement effray\u00e9, je m'arr\u00eatai court, et n'osai pas\nsortir de mon bocage, de peur d'\u00eatre surpris; encore n'y \u00e9tais-je pas\ntranquille: car j'\u00e9tais plein de l'appr\u00e9hension que, si les Sauvages en\nr\u00f4dant venaient \u00e0 trouver ma moisson pendante ou coup\u00e9e, ou n'importe\nquels travaux et quelles cultures, ils en concluraient imm\u00e9diatement que\nl'\u00eele \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e et ne s'arr\u00eateraient point qu'ils ne m'eussent\nd\u00e9couvert. Dans cette angoisse je retournai droit \u00e0 mon ch\u00e2teau; et,\nayant donn\u00e9 \u00e0 toutes les choses ext\u00e9rieures un aspect aussi sauvage,\naussi naturel que possible, je retirai mon \u00e9chelle apr\u00e8s moi.\nAlors je m'armai et me mis en \u00e9tat de d\u00e9fense. Je chargeai toute mon\nartillerie, comme je l'appelais, c'est-\u00e0-dire mes mousquets mont\u00e9s sur\nmon nouveau retranchement, et touts mes pistolets, bien r\u00e9solu \u00e0\ncombattre jusqu'au dernier soupir. Je n'oubliai pas de me recommander\navec ferveur \u00e0 la protection divine et de supplier Dieu de me d\u00e9livrer\ndes mains des barbares. Dans cette situation, ayant attendu deux heures,\nje commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 \u00eatre fort impatient de savoir ce qui se passait au\ndehors: je n'avais point d'espion \u00e0 envoyer \u00e0 la d\u00e9couverte.\nApr\u00e8s \u00eatre demeur\u00e9 l\u00e0 encore quelque temps, et apr\u00e8s avoir song\u00e9 \u00e0 ce\nque j'avais \u00e0 faire en cette occasion, il me fut impossible de supporter\ndavantage l'ignorance o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais. Appliquant donc mon \u00e9chelle sur le\nflanc du rocher o\u00f9 se trouvait une plate-forme, puis la retirant apr\u00e8s\nmoi et la repla\u00e7ant de nouveau, je parvins au sommet de la colline. L\u00e0,\ncouch\u00e9 \u00e0 plat-ventre sur la terre, je pris ma longue-vue, que j'avais\napport\u00e9e \u00e0 dessein et je la braquai. Je vis aussit\u00f4t qu'il n'y avait pas\nmoins de neuf Sauvages assis en rond autour d'un petit feu, non pas pour\nse chauffer, car la chaleur \u00e9tait extr\u00eame, mais, comme je le supposai,\npour appr\u00eater quelque atroce mets de chair humaine qu'ils avaient\napport\u00e9e avec eux, ou morte ou vive, c'est ce que je ne pus savoir.\nIls avaient avec eux deux pirogues hal\u00e9es sur le rivage; et, comme\nc'\u00e9tait alors le temps du jusant, ils me sembl\u00e8rent attendre le retour\ndu flot pour s'en retourner. Il n'est pas facile de se figurer le\ntrouble o\u00f9 me jeta ce spectacle, et surtout leur venue si proche de moi\net sur mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele. Mais quand je consid\u00e9rai que leur d\u00e9barquement\ndevait toujours avoir lieu au jusant, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 retrouver un peu de\ncalme, certain de pouvoir sortir en toute s\u00fbret\u00e9 pendant le temps du\nflot, si personne n'avait abord\u00e9 au rivage auparavant. Cette observation\nfaite, je me remis \u00e0 travailler \u00e0 ma moisson avec plus de tranquillit\u00e9.\nLa chose arriva comme je l'avais pr\u00e9vue; car aussit\u00f4t que la mar\u00e9e porta\n\u00e0 l'Ouest je les vis touts monter dans leurs pirogues et touts ramer ou\npagayer, comme cela s'appelle. J'aurais d\u00fb faire remarquer qu'une heure\nenviron avant de partir ils s'\u00e9taient mis \u00e0 danser, et qu'\u00e0 l'aide de ma\nlongue-vue j'avais pu appercevoir leurs postures et leurs\ngesticulations. Je reconnu, par la plus minutieuse observation, qu'ils\n\u00e9taient enti\u00e8rement nus, sans le moindre v\u00eatement sur le corps; mais\n\u00e9taient-ce des hommes ou des femmes? il me fut impossible de le\ndistinguer.\nSit\u00f4t qu'ils furent embarqu\u00e9s et partis, je sortis avec deux mousquets\nsur mes \u00e9paules, deux pistolets \u00e0 ma ceinture, mon grand sabre sans\nfourreau \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9, et avec toute la diligence dont j'\u00e9tais capable je\nme rendis \u00e0 la colline o\u00f9 j'avais d\u00e9couvert la premi\u00e8re de toutes les\ntraces. D\u00e8s que j'y fus arriv\u00e9, ce qui ne fut qu'au bout de deux\nheures,--car je ne pouvais aller vite charg\u00e9 d'armes comme je\nl'\u00e9tais,--je vis qu'il y avait eu en ce lieu trois autres pirogues de\nSauvages; et, regardant au loin, je les apper\u00e7us toutes ensemble faisant\nroute pour le continent.\nCe fut surtout pour moi un terrible spectacle quand en descendant au\nrivage je vis les traces de leur affreux festin, du sang, des os, des\ntron\u00e7ons de chair humaine qu'ils avaient mang\u00e9e et d\u00e9vor\u00e9e, avec joie.\nJe fus si rempli d'indignation \u00e0 cette vue, que je recommen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nm\u00e9diter, le massacre des premiers que je rencontrerais, quels qu'ils\npussent \u00eatre et quelque nombreux qu'ils fussent.\nLE FANAL\nIl me para\u00eet \u00e9vident que leurs visites dans l'\u00eele devaient \u00eatre assez\nrares, car il se passa plus de quinze mois avant qu'ils ne revinssent,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire que durant tout ce temps je n'en revis ni trace ni vestige.\nDans la saison des pluies il \u00e9tait s\u00fbr qu'ils ne pouvaient sortir de\nchez eux, du moins pour aller si loin. Cependant durant cet intervalle\nje vivais mis\u00e9rablement: l'appr\u00e9hension d'\u00eatre pris \u00e0 l'improviste\nm'assi\u00e9geait sans rel\u00e2che; d'o\u00f9 je d\u00e9duis que l'expectative du mal est\nplus am\u00e8re que le mal lui-m\u00eame, quand surtout on ne peut se d\u00e9faire de\ncette attente ou de ces appr\u00e9hensions.\nPendant tout ce temps-l\u00e0 mon humeur meurtri\u00e8re ne m'abandonna pas, et\nj'employai la plupart des heures du jour, qui auraient pu \u00eatre beaucoup\nmieux d\u00e9pens\u00e9es, \u00e0 imaginer comment je les circonviendrais et les\nassaillirais \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re rencontre, surtout s'ils \u00e9taient divis\u00e9s en\ndeux parties comme la derni\u00e8re fois. Je ne consid\u00e9rais nullement que si\nj'en tuais une bande, je suppose de dix ou douze, et que le lendemain,\nla semaine ou le mois suivant j'en tuasse encore d'autres, et ainsi de\nsuite \u00e0 l'infini, je deviendrais aussi meurtrier qu'ils \u00e9taient mangeurs\nd'hommes, et peut-\u00eatre plus encore.\nJ'usais ma vie dans une grande perplexit\u00e9 et une grande anxi\u00e9t\u00e9\nd'esprit; je m'attendais \u00e0 tomber un jour ou l'autre entre les mains de\nces impitoyables cr\u00e9atures. Si je me hasardais quelquefois dehors, ce\nn'\u00e9tait qu'en promenant mes regards inquiets autour de moi, et avec tout\nle soin, toute la pr\u00e9caution imaginable. Je sentis alors, \u00e0 ma grande\nconsolation, combien c'\u00e9tait chose heureuse pour moi que je me fusse\npourvu d'un troupeau ou d'une harde de ch\u00e8vres; car je n'osais en aucune\noccasion tirer mon fusil, surtout du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele fr\u00e9quent\u00e9 par les\nSauvages, de peur de leur donner une alerte. Peut-\u00eatre se seraient-ils\nenfuis d'abord; mais bien certainement ils seraient revenus au bout de\nquelques jours avec deux ou trois cents pirogues: je savais ce \u00e0 quoi je\ndevais m'attendre alors.\nN\u00e9anmoins je fus un an et trois mois avant d'en revoir aucun; mais\ncomment en revis-je, c'est ce dont il sera parl\u00e9 bient\u00f4t. Il est\npossible que durant cet intervalle ils soient revenus deux ou trois\nfois, mais ils ne s\u00e9journ\u00e8rent pas ou au moins n'en eus-je point\nconnaissance. Ce fut donc, d'apr\u00e8s mon plus exact calcul, au mois de mai\net dans la vingt-quatri\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de mon isolement que j'eus avec eux\nl'\u00e9trange rencontre dont il sera discouru en son lieu.\nLa perturbation de mon \u00e2me fut tr\u00e8s-grande pendant ces quinze ou seize\nmois. J'avais le sommeil inquiet, je faisais des songes effrayants, et\nsouvent je me r\u00e9veillais en sursaut. Le jour des troubles violents\naccablaient mon esprit; la nuit je r\u00eavais fr\u00e9quemment que je tuais des\nsauvages, et je pesais les raisons qui pouvaient me justifier de cet\nacte.--Mais laissons tout cela pour quelque temps. C'\u00e9tait vers le\nmilieu de mai, le seizi\u00e8me jour, je pense, autant que je pus m'en\nrapporter \u00e0 mon pauvre calendrier de bois, o\u00f9 je faisais toujours mes\nmarques; c'\u00e9tait, dis-je, le seize mai: un violent ouragan souffla tout\nle jour, accompagn\u00e9 de quantit\u00e9 d'\u00e9clairs et de coups de tonnerre. La\nnuit suivante fut \u00e9pouvantable. Je ne sais plus quel en \u00e9tait le motif\nparticulier, mais je lisais la Bible, et faisais de s\u00e9rieuses r\u00e9flexions\nsur ma situation, quand je fus surpris par un bruit semblable \u00e0 un coup\nde canon tir\u00e9 en mer.\nCe fut pour moi une surprise d'une nature enti\u00e8rement diff\u00e9rente de\ntoutes celles que j'avais eues jusque alors, car elle \u00e9veilla en mon\nesprit de tout autres id\u00e9es. Je me levai avec toute la h\u00e2te imaginable,\net en un tour de main j'appliquai mon \u00e9chelle contre le rocher; je\nmontai \u00e0 mi-hauteur, puis je la retirai apr\u00e8s moi, je la repla\u00e7ai et\nj'escaladai jusqu'au sommet. Au m\u00eame instant une flamme me pr\u00e9para \u00e0\nentendre un second coup de canon, qui en effet au bout d'une demi-minute\nfrappa mon oreille. Je reconnus par le son qu'il devait \u00eatre dans cette\npartie de la mer o\u00f9 ma pirogue avait \u00e9t\u00e9 dross\u00e9e par les courants.\nJe songeai aussit\u00f4t que ce devait \u00eatre un vaisseau en p\u00e9ril, qui, allant\nde conserve avec quelque autre navire, tirait son canon en signal de\nd\u00e9tresse pour en obtenir du secours, et j'eus sur-le-champ la pr\u00e9sence\nd'esprit de penser que bien que je ne pusse l'assister, peut-\u00eatre lui\nm'assisterait-il. Je rassemblai donc tout le bois sec qui se trouvait\naux environs, et j'en fis un assez beau monceau que j'allumai sur la\ncolline. Le bois \u00e9tant sec, il s'enflamma facilement, et malgr\u00e9 la\nviolence du vent il flamba \u00e0 merveille: j'eus alors la certitude que, si\ntoutefois c'\u00e9tait un navire, ce feu serait immanquablement apper\u00e7u; et\nil le fut sans aucun doute: car \u00e0 peine mon bois se fut-il embras\u00e9 que\nj'entendis un troisi\u00e8me coup de canon, qui fut suivi de plusieurs\nautres, venant touts du m\u00eame point. J'entretins mon feu toute la nuit\njusqu'\u00e0 l'aube, et quand il fit grand jour et que l'air se fut \u00e9clairci,\nje vis quelque chose en mer, tout-\u00e0-fait \u00e0 l'Est de l'\u00eele. \u00c9tait-ce un\nnavire ou des d\u00e9bris de navire? je ne pus le distinguer, voire m\u00eame avec\nmes lunettes d'approche, la distance \u00e9tant trop grande et le temps\nencore trop brumeux, du moins en mer.\nDurant tout le jour je regardai fr\u00e9quemment cet objet: je m'apper\u00e7us\nbient\u00f4t qu'il ne se mouvait pas, et j'en conclus que ce devait \u00eatre un\nnavire \u00e0 l'ancre. Br\u00fblant de m'en assurer, comme on peut bien le croire,\nje pris mon fusil \u00e0 la main, et je courus vers la partie m\u00e9ridionale de\nl'\u00eele, vers les rochers o\u00f9 j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 autrefois entra\u00een\u00e9 par les\ncourants; je gravis sur leur sommet, et, le temps \u00e9tant alors\nparfaitement clair, je vis distinctement, mais \u00e0 mon grand chagrin, la\ncarcasse d'un vaisseau \u00e9chou\u00e9 pendant la nuit sur les roches \u00e0 fleur\nd'eau que j'avais trouv\u00e9es en me mettant en mer avec ma chaloupe, et\nqui, r\u00e9sistant \u00e0 la violence du courant, faisaient cette esp\u00e8ce de\ncontre-courant ou remous par lequel j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9livr\u00e9 de la position\nla plus d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e et la plus d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rante o\u00f9 je me sois trouv\u00e9 dans ma\nvie.\nC'est ainsi que ce qui est le salut de l'un fait la perte de l'autre;\ncar il est probable que ce navire, quel qu'il f\u00fbt, n'ayant aucune\nconnaissance de ces roches enti\u00e8rement cach\u00e9es sous l'eau, y avait \u00e9t\u00e9\npouss\u00e9 durant la nuit par un vent violent soufflant de l'Est et de\nl'Est-Nord-Est. Si l'\u00e9quipage avait d\u00e9couvert l'\u00eele, ce que je ne puis\nsupposer, il aurait n\u00e9cessairement tent\u00e9 de se sauver \u00e0 terre dans la\nchaloupe.--Les coups de canon qu'il avait tir\u00e9s, surtout en voyant mon\nfeu, comme je l'imaginais, me remplirent la t\u00eate d'une foule de\nconjectures: tant\u00f4t je pensais qu'appercevant mon fanal il s'\u00e9tait jet\u00e9\ndans la chaloupe pour t\u00e2cher de gagner le rivage; mais que la lame \u00e9tant\ntr\u00e8s-forte, il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9; tant\u00f4t je m'imaginais qu'il avait\ncommenc\u00e9 par perdre sa chaloupe, ce qui arrive souvent lorsque les\nflots, se brisant sur un navire, forcent les matelots \u00e0 d\u00e9foncer et \u00e0\nmettre en pi\u00e8ces leur embarcation ou \u00e0 la jeter par-dessus le bord.\nD'autres fois je me figurais que le vaisseau ou les vaisseaux qui\nallaient de conserve avec celui-ci, avertis par les signaux de d\u00e9tresse,\navaient recueilli et emmen\u00e9 cet \u00e9quipage. Enfin dans d'autres moments je\npensais que touts les hommes du bord \u00e9taient descendus dans leur\nchaloupe, et que, dross\u00e9s par le courant qui m'avait autrefois entra\u00een\u00e9,\nils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9s dans le grand Oc\u00e9an, o\u00f9 ils ne trouveraient\nrien que la mis\u00e8re et la mort, o\u00f9 peut-\u00eatre ils seraient r\u00e9duits par la\nfaim \u00e0 se manger les uns les autres.\nMais, comme cela n'\u00e9tait que des conjectures, je ne pouvais, en ma\nposition, que consid\u00e9rer l'infortune de ces pauvres gens et m'apitoyer.\nCe qui eut sur moi la bonne influence de me rendre de plus en plus\nreconnaissant envers Dieu, dont la providence avait pris dans mon\nmalheur un soin si g\u00e9n\u00e9reux de moi, que, de deux \u00e9quipages perdus sur\nces c\u00f4tes, moi seul avais \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00e9serv\u00e9. J'appris de l\u00e0 encore qu'il est\nrare que Dieu nous plonge dans une condition si basse, dans une mis\u00e8re\nsi grande, que nous ne puissions trouver quelque sujet de gratitude, et\ntrouver de nos semblable jet\u00e9s dans des circonstances pires que les\nn\u00f4tres.\nTel \u00e9tait le sort de cet \u00e9quipage, dont il n'\u00e9tait pas probable qu'aucun\nhomme e\u00fbt \u00e9chapp\u00e9,--rien ne pouvant faire croire qu'il n'avait pas p\u00e9ri\ntout entier,--\u00e0 moins de supposer qu'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9 par quelque autre\nb\u00e2timent allant avec lui de conserve; mais ce n'\u00e9tait qu'une pure\npossibilit\u00e9; car je n'avais vu aucun signe, aucune apparence de rien de\nsemblable.\nJe ne puis trouver d'assez \u00e9nergiques paroles pour exprimer l'ardent\nd\u00e9sir, l'\u00e9trange envie que ce naufrage \u00e9veilla en mon \u00e2me et qui souvent\ns'en exhalait ainsi:--\u00abOh! si une ou deux, une seule \u00e2me avait pu \u00eatre\nsauv\u00e9e du navire, avait pu en r\u00e9chapper, afin que je pusse avoir un\ncompagnon, un semblable, pour parler et pour vivre avec moi!\u00bb--Dans tout\nle cours de ma vie solitaire je ne d\u00e9sirai jamais si ardemment la\nsoci\u00e9t\u00e9 des hommes, et je n'\u00e9prouvai jamais un plus profond regret d'en\n\u00eatre s\u00e9par\u00e9.\nIl y a dans nos passions certaines sources secr\u00e8tes qui, lorsqu'elles\nsont vivifi\u00e9es par des objets pr\u00e9sents ou absents, mais rendus pr\u00e9sents\n\u00e0 notre esprit par la puissance de notre imagination, entra\u00eenent notre\n\u00e2me avec tant d'imp\u00e9tuosit\u00e9 vers les objets de ses d\u00e9sirs, que la non\npossession en devient vraiment insupportable.\nTelle \u00e9tait l'ardeur de mes souhaits pour la conservation d'un seul\nhomme, que je r\u00e9p\u00e9tai, je crois, mille fois ces mots:--\u00abOh! qu'un homme\nait \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9, oh! qu'un seul homme ait \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9!--J'\u00e9tais si\nviolemment irrit\u00e9 par ce d\u00e9sir en pronon\u00e7ant ces paroles, que mes mains\nse saisissaient, que mes doigts pressaient la paume de mes mains et avec\ntant de rage que si j'eusse tenu quelque chose de fragile je l'eusse\nbris\u00e9 involontairement; mes dents claquaient dans ma bouche et se\nserraient si fortement que je fus quelque temps avant de pouvoir les\ns\u00e9parer.\nQue les naturalistes expliquent ces choses, leur raison et leur nature;\nquant \u00e0 moi, je ne puis que consigner ce fait, qui me parut toujours\nsurprenant et dont je ne pus jamais me rendre compte. C'\u00e9tait sans doute\nl'effet de la fougue de mon d\u00e9sir et de l'\u00e9nergie de mes id\u00e9es me\nrepr\u00e9sentant toute la consolation que j'aurais puis\u00e9e dans la soci\u00e9t\u00e9\nd'un Chr\u00e9tien comme moi.\nMais cela ne devait pas \u00eatre: leur destin\u00e9e ou la mienne ou toutes deux\npeut-\u00eatre l'interdisaient; car jusqu'\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re ann\u00e9e de mon s\u00e9jour\ndans l'\u00eele j'ai ignor\u00e9 si quelqu'un s'\u00e9tait ou ne s'\u00e9tait pas sauv\u00e9 du\nnaufrage; j'eus seulement quelques jours apr\u00e8s l'affliction de voir le\ncorps d'un jeune gar\u00e7on noy\u00e9 jet\u00e9 sur le rivage, \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de l'\u00eele,\nproche le vaisseau naufrag\u00e9. Il n'avait pour tout v\u00eatement qu'une veste\nde matelot, un cale\u00e7on de toile ouvert aux genoux et une chemise bleue.\nRien ne put me faire deviner quelle \u00e9tait sa nation: il n'avait dans ses\npoches que deux pi\u00e8ces de huit et une pipe \u00e0 tabac qui avait dix fois\nplus de valeur pour moi.\nLa mer \u00e9tait calme alors, et j'avais grande envie de m'aventurer dans ma\npirogue jusqu'au navire. Je ne doutais nullement que je pusse trouver \u00e0\nbord quelque chose pour mon utilit\u00e9; mais ce n'\u00e9tait pas l\u00e0 le motif qui\nm'y portait le plus: j'y \u00e9tais entra\u00een\u00e9 par la pens\u00e9e que je trouverais\npeut-\u00eatre quelque cr\u00e9ature dont je pourrais sauver la vie, et par l\u00e0\nr\u00e9conforter la mienne au plus haut degr\u00e9. Cette pens\u00e9e me tenait\ntellement au c\u0153ur, que je n'avais de repos ni jour ni nuit, et qu'il\nfallut que je me risquasse \u00e0 aller \u00e0 bord de ce vaisseau. Je\nm'abandonnai donc \u00e0 la providence de Dieu, persuad\u00e9 que j'\u00e9tais qu'une\nimpulsion si forte, \u00e0 laquelle je ne pouvais r\u00e9sister, devait venir\nd'une invisible direction, et que je serais coupable envers moi si je ne\nle faisais point.\nVOYAGE AU VAISSEAU NAUFRAG\u00c9\nSous le coup de cette impression, je regagnai \u00e0 grands pas mon ch\u00e2teau\nafin de pr\u00e9parer tout pour mon voyage. Je pris une bonne quantit\u00e9 de\npain, un grand pot d'eau fra\u00eeche, une boussole pour me gouverner, une\nbouteille de _rum,_--j'en avais encore beaucoup en r\u00e9serve,--et une\npleine corbeille de raisins. Charg\u00e9 ainsi, je retournai \u00e0 ma pirogue, je\nvidai l'eau qui s'y trouvait, je la mis \u00e0 flot, et j'y d\u00e9posai toute ma\ncargaison. Je revins ensuite chez moi prendre une seconde charge,\ncompos\u00e9e d'un grand sac de riz, de mon parasol--pour placer au-dessus de\nma t\u00eate et me donner de l'ombre,--d'un second pot d'eau fra\u00eeche, de deux\ndouzaines environ de mes petits pains ou g\u00e2teaux d'orge, d'une bouteille\nde lait de ch\u00e8vre et d'un fromage. Je portai tout cela \u00e0 mon\nembarcation, non sans beaucoup de peine et de sueur. Ayant pri\u00e9 Dieu de\ndiriger mon voyage, je me mis en route, et, ramant ou pagayant le long\ndu rivage, je parvins enfin \u00e0 l'extr\u00eame pointe de l'\u00eele sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9\nNord-Est. L\u00e0 il s'agissait de se lancer dans l'Oc\u00e9an, de s'aventurer ou\nde ne pas s'aventurer. Je regardai les courants rapides qui \u00e0 quelque\ndistance r\u00e9gnaient des deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s de l'\u00eele. Le souvenir des dangers que\nj'avais courus me rendit ce spectacle bien terrible, et le c\u0153ur commen\u00e7a\n\u00e0 me manquer; car je pressentis que si un de ces courants m'entra\u00eenait,\nje serais emport\u00e9 en haute mer, peut-\u00eatre hors de la vue de mon \u00eele; et\nqu'alors, comme ma pirogue \u00e9tait fort l\u00e9g\u00e8re, pour peu qu'un joli frais\ns'\u00e9lev\u00e2t, j'\u00e9tais in\u00e9vitablement perdu.\nCes pens\u00e9es oppress\u00e8rent tellement mon \u00e2me, que je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nabandonner mon entreprise: je halai ma barque dans une crique du rivage,\nje gagnai un petit tertre et je m'y assis inquiet et pensif, flottant\nentre la crainte et le d\u00e9sir de faire mon voyage. Tandis que j'\u00e9tais \u00e0\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, je m'apper\u00e7us que la mar\u00e9e avait chang\u00e9 et que le flot\nmontait, ce qui rendait pour quelque temps mon d\u00e9part impraticable. Il\nme vint alors \u00e0 l'esprit de gravir sur la butte la plus haute que je\npourrais trouver, et d'observer les mouvements de la mar\u00e9e pendant le\nflux, afin de juger si, entra\u00een\u00e9 par l'un de ces courants, je ne\npourrais pas \u00eatre ramen\u00e9 par l'autre avec la m\u00eame rapidit\u00e9. Cela ne me\nfut pas plus t\u00f4t entr\u00e9 dans la t\u00eate, que je jetai mes regards sur un\nmonticule qui dominait suffisamment les deux c\u00f4tes, et d'o\u00f9 je vis\nclairement la direction de la mar\u00e9e et la route que j'avais \u00e0 suivre\npour mon retour: le courant du jusant sortait du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la pointe Sud\nde l'\u00eele, le courant du flot rentrait du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du Nord. Tout ce que\nj'avais \u00e0 faire pour op\u00e9rer mon retour \u00e9tait donc de serrer la pointe\nseptentrionale de l'\u00eele.\nEnhardi par cette observation, je r\u00e9solus de partir le lendemain matin\navec le commencement de la mar\u00e9e, ce que je fis en effet apr\u00e8s avoir\nrepos\u00e9 la nuit dans mon canot sous la grande houppelande dont j'ai fait\nmention. Je gouvernai premi\u00e8rement plein Nord, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je me\nsentisse soulev\u00e9 par le courant qui portait \u00e0 l'Est, et qui m'entra\u00eena \u00e0\nune grande distance, sans cependant me d\u00e9sorienter, ainsi que l'avait\nfait autrefois le courant sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 Sud, et sans m'\u00f4ter toute la\ndirection de ma pirogue. Comme je faisais un bon sillage avec ma pagaie,\nj'allai droit au navire \u00e9chou\u00e9, et en moins de deux heures je\nl'atteignis.\nC'\u00e9tait un triste spectacle \u00e0 voir! Le b\u00e2timent, qui me parut espagnol\npar sa construction, \u00e9tait fich\u00e9 et enclav\u00e9 entre deux roches; la poupe\net la hanche avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 mises en pi\u00e8ces par la mer; et comme le\ngaillard d'avant avait donn\u00e9 contre les rochers avec une violence\nextr\u00eame, le grand m\u00e2t et le m\u00e2t de misaine s'\u00e9taient bris\u00e9s rez-pied;\nmais le beaupr\u00e9 \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 en bon \u00e9tat et l'avant et l'\u00e9peron\nparaissaient fermes.--Lorsque je me fus approch\u00e9, un chien parut sur le\ntillac: me voyant venir, il se mit \u00e0 japper et \u00e0 aboyer. Aussit\u00f4t que je\nl'appelai il sauta \u00e0 la mer pour venir \u00e0 moi, et je le pris dans ma\nbarque. Le trouvant \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 mort de faim et de soif, je lui donnai un\nde mes pains qu'il engloutit comme un loup vorace ayant je\u00fbn\u00e9 quinze\njours dans la neige; ensuite je donnai de l'eau fra\u00eeche \u00e0 cette pauvre\nb\u00eate, qui, si je l'avais laiss\u00e9e faire, aurait bu jusqu'\u00e0 en crever.\nApr\u00e8s cela j'allai \u00e0 bord. La premi\u00e8re chose que j'y rencontrai ce fut,\ndans la cuisine, sur le gaillard d'avant, deux hommes noy\u00e9s et qui se\ntenaient embrass\u00e9s. J'en conclus, cela est au fait probable, qu'au\nmoment o\u00f9, durant la temp\u00eate, le navire avait touch\u00e9, les lames\nbrisaient si haut et avec tant de rapidit\u00e9, que ces pauvres gens\nn'avaient pu s'en d\u00e9fendre, et avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9touff\u00e9s par la continuelle\nchute des vagues, comme s'ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 sous l'eau.--Outre le chien,\nil n'y avait rien \u00e0 bord qui f\u00fbt en vie, et toutes les marchandises que\nje pus voir \u00e9taient avari\u00e9es. Je trouvai cependant arrim\u00e9s dans la cale\nquelques tonneaux de liqueurs. \u00c9tait-ce du vin ou de l'eau-de-vie, je ne\nsais. L'eau en se retirant les avait laiss\u00e9s \u00e0 d\u00e9couvert, mais ils\n\u00e9taient trop gros pour que je pusse m'en saisir. Je trouvai aussi\nplusieurs coffres qui me parurent avoir appartenu \u00e0 des matelots, et\nj'en portai deux dans ma barque sans examiner ce qu'ils contenaient.\nSi la poupe avait \u00e9t\u00e9 garantie et que la proue e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 bris\u00e9e, je suis\npersuad\u00e9 que j'aurais fait un bon voyage; car, \u00e0 en juger par ce que je\ntrouvai dans les coffres, il devait y avoir \u00e0 bord beaucoup de\nrichesses. Je pr\u00e9sume par la route qu'il tenait qu'il devait venir de\nBuenos-Ayres ou de Rio de la Plata, dans l'Am\u00e9rique m\u00e9ridionale, en del\u00e0\ndu Br\u00e9sil, et devait aller \u00e0 la Havane dans le golfe du Mexique, et de\nl\u00e0 peut-\u00eatre en Espagne. Assur\u00e9ment ce navire recelait un grand tr\u00e9sor,\nmais perdu \u00e0 jamais pour tout le monde. Et qu'\u00e9tait devenu le reste de\nson \u00e9quipage, je ne le sus pas alors.\nOutre ces coffres, j'y trouvai un petit tonneau plein d'environ vingt\ngallons de liqueur, que je transportai dans ma pirogue, non sans\nbeaucoup de difficult\u00e9. Dans une cabine je d\u00e9couvris plusieurs mousquets\net une grande poire \u00e0 poudre en contenant environ quatre livres. Quant\naux mousquets je n'en avais pas besoin: je les laissai donc, mais je\npris le cornet \u00e0 poudre. Je pris aussi une pelle et des pincettes, qui\nme faisaient extr\u00eamement faute, deux chaudrons de cuivre, un gril et une\nchocolati\u00e8re. Avec cette cargaison et le chien, je me mis en route quand\nla mar\u00e9e commen\u00e7a \u00e0 porter vers mon \u00eele, que le m\u00eame soir, \u00e0 une heure\nde la nuit environ, j'atteignis, harass\u00e9, \u00e9puis\u00e9 de fatigues.\nJe reposai cette nuit dans ma pirogue, et le matin je r\u00e9solus de ne\npoint porter mes acquisitions dans mon ch\u00e2teau, mais dans ma nouvelle\ncaverne. Apr\u00e8s m'\u00eatre restaur\u00e9, je d\u00e9barquai ma cargaison et je me mis \u00e0\nen faire l'inventaire. Le tonneau de liqueur contenait une sorte de\n_rum,_ mais non pas de la qualit\u00e9 de celui qu'on boit au Br\u00e9sil: en un\nmot, d\u00e9testable. Quand j'en vins \u00e0 ouvrir les coffres je d\u00e9couvris\nplusieurs choses dont j'avais besoin: par exemple, dans l'un je trouvai\nun beau coffret renfermant des flacons de forme extraordinaire et\nremplis d'eaux cordiales fines et tr\u00e8s-bonnes. Les flacons, de la\ncontenance de trois pintes, \u00e9taient tout garnis d'argent. Je trouvai\ndeux pots d'excellentes confitures si bien bouch\u00e9s que l'eau n'avait pu\ny p\u00e9n\u00e9trer, et deux autres qu'elle avait tout-\u00e0-fait g\u00e2t\u00e9s. Je trouvai\nen outre de fort bonnes chemises qui furent les bien venues, et environ\nune douzaine et demie de mouchoirs de toile blanche et de cravates de\ncouleur. Les mouchoirs furent aussi les bien re\u00e7us, rien n'\u00e9tant plus\nrafra\u00eechissant pour m'essuyer le visage dans les jours de chaleur.\nEnfin, lorsque j'arrivai au fond du coffre, je trouvai trois grands sacs\nde pi\u00e8ces de huit, qui contenaient environ onze cents pi\u00e8ces en tout, et\ndans l'un de ces sacs six doublons d'or envelopp\u00e9s dans un papier, et\nquelques petites barres ou lingots d'or qui, je le suppose, pesaient \u00e0\npeu pr\u00e8s une livre.\nDans l'autre coffre il y avait quelques v\u00eatements, mais de peu de\nvaleur. Je fus port\u00e9 \u00e0 croire que celui-ci avait appartenu au ma\u00eetre\ncanonnier, par cette raison qu'il ne s'y trouvait point de poudre, mais\nenviron deux livres de pulverin dans trois flasques, mises en r\u00e9serve,\nje suppose, pour charger des armes de chasse dans l'occasion. Somme\ntoute, par ce voyage, j'acquis peu de chose qui me f\u00fbt d'un tr\u00e8s-grand\nusage; car pour l'argent, je n'en avais que faire: il \u00e9tait pour moi\ncomme la boue sous mes pieds; je l'aurais donn\u00e9 pour trois ou quatre\npaires de bas et de souliers anglais, dont j'avais grand besoin. Depuis\nbien des ann\u00e9es j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9duit \u00e0 m'en passer. J'avais alors, il est\nvrai, deux paires de souliers que j'avais pris aux pieds des deux hommes\nnoy\u00e9s que j'avais d\u00e9couverts \u00e0 bord, et deux autres paires que je\ntrouvai dans l'un des coffres, ce qui me fut fort agr\u00e9able; mais ils ne\nvalaient pas nos souliers anglais, ni pour la commodit\u00e9 ni pour le\nservice, \u00e9tant plut\u00f4t ce que nous appelons des escarpins que des\nsouliers. Enfin je tirai du second coffre environ cinquante pi\u00e8ces de\nhuit en r\u00e9aux, mais point d'or. Il est \u00e0 croire qu'il avait appartenu \u00e0\nun marin plus pauvre que le premier, qui doit avoir eu quelque officier\npour ma\u00eetre.\nJe portai n\u00e9anmoins cet argent dans ma caverne, et je l'y serrai comme\nle premier que j'avais sauv\u00e9 de notre b\u00e2timent. Ce fut vraiment grand\ndommage, comme je le disais tant\u00f4t, que l'autre partie du navire n'e\u00fbt\npas \u00e9t\u00e9 accessible, je suis certain que j'aurais pu en tirer de l'argent\nde quoi charger plusieurs fois ma pirogue; argent qui, si je fusse\njamais parvenu \u00e0 m'\u00e9chapper et \u00e0 m'enfuir en Angleterre, aurait pu\nrester en s\u00fbret\u00e9 dans ma caverne jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je revinsse le chercher.\nApr\u00e8s avoir tout d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 et tout mis en lieu s\u00fbr, je retournai \u00e0 mon\nembarcation. En ramant ou pagayant le long du rivage je la ramenai dans\nsa rade ordinaire, et je revins en h\u00e2te \u00e0 ma demeure, o\u00f9 je retrouvai\ntout dans la paix et dans l'ordre. Je me remis donc \u00e0 vivre selon mon\nancienne mani\u00e8re, et \u00e0 prendre soin de mes affaires domestiques. Pendant\nun certain temps mon existence fut assez agr\u00e9able, seulement j'\u00e9tais\nencore plus vigilant que de coutume; je faisais le guet plus souvent et\nne mettais plus aussi fr\u00e9quemment le pied dehors. Si parfois je sortais\navec quelque libert\u00e9, c'\u00e9tait toujours dans la partie orientale de\nl'\u00eele, o\u00f9 j'avais la presque certitude que les Sauvages ne venaient pas,\net o\u00f9 je pouvais aller sans tant de pr\u00e9cautions, sans ce fardeau d'armes\net de munitions que je portais toujours avec moi lorsque j'allais de\nl'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9.\nJe v\u00e9cus pr\u00e8s de deux ans encore dans cette situation; mais ma\nmalheureuse t\u00eate, qui semblait faite pour rendre mon corps mis\u00e9rable,\nfut durant ces deux ann\u00e9es toujours emplie de projets et de desseins\npour tenter de m'enfuir de mon \u00eele. Quelquefois je voulais faire une\nnouvelle visite au navire \u00e9chou\u00e9, quoique ma raison me cri\u00e2t qu'il n'y\nrestait rien qui val\u00fbt les dangers du voyage; d'autres fois je songeais\n\u00e0 aller \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, tant\u00f4t d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9, tant\u00f4t d'un autre; et je crois\nvraiment que si j'avais eu la chaloupe sur laquelle je m'\u00e9tais \u00e9chapp\u00e9\nde Sall\u00e9, je me serais aventur\u00e9 en mer pour aller n'importe en quel\nlieu, pour aller je ne sais o\u00f9.\nJ'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 dans toutes les circonstances de ma vie un exemple vivant de\nceux qui sont atteints de cette plaie g\u00e9n\u00e9rale de l'humanit\u00e9, d'o\u00f9\nd\u00e9coule gratuitement la moiti\u00e9 de leurs mis\u00e8res: j'entends la plaie de\nn'\u00eatre point satisfaits de la position o\u00f9 Dieu et la nature les ont\nplac\u00e9s. Car sans parler de mon \u00e9tat primitif et de mon opposition aux\nexcellents conseils de mon p\u00e8re, opposition qui fut, si je puis\nl'appeler ainsi, mon p\u00e9ch\u00e9 originel, n'\u00e9tait-ce pas un \u00e9garement de m\u00eame\nnature qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 l'occasion de ma chute dans cette mis\u00e9rable\ncondition? Si cette Providence qui m'avait si heureusement \u00e9tabli au\nBr\u00e9sil comme planteur e\u00fbt limit\u00e9 mes d\u00e9sirs, si je m'\u00e9tais content\u00e9\nd'avancer pas \u00e0 pas, j'aurais pu \u00eatre alors, j'entends au bout du temps\nque je passai dans mon \u00eele, un des plus grands colons du Br\u00e9sil; car je\nsuis persuad\u00e9, par les progr\u00e8s que j'avais faits dans le peu d'ann\u00e9es\nque j'y v\u00e9cus et ceux que j'aurais probablement faits si j'y fusse\ndemeur\u00e9, que je serais devenu riche \u00e0 cent mille Moidoires.\nLE R\u00caVE\nJ'avais bien affaire en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de laisser l\u00e0 une fortune assise, une\nplantation bien pourvue, s'am\u00e9liorant et prosp\u00e9rant, pour m'en aller\ncomme subr\u00e9cargue chercher des N\u00e8gres en Guin\u00e9e, tandis qu'avec de la\npatience et du temps, mon capital s'\u00e9tant accru, j'en aurais pu acheter\nau seuil de ma porte, \u00e0 ces gens dont le trafic des Noirs \u00e9tait le seul\nn\u00e9goce. Il est vrai qu'ils m'auraient co\u00fbt\u00e9 quelque chose de plus, mais\ncette diff\u00e9rence de prix pouvait-elle compenser de si grands hasards?\nLa folie est ordinairement le lot des jeunes t\u00eates, et la r\u00e9flexion sur\nles folies pass\u00e9es est ordinairement l'exercice d'un \u00e2ge plus m\u00fbr ou\nd'une exp\u00e9rience pay\u00e9e cher. J'en \u00e9tais l\u00e0 alors, et cependant\nl'extravagance avait jet\u00e9 de si profondes racines dans mon c\u0153ur, que je\nne pouvais me satisfaire de ma situation, et que j'avais l'esprit\nappliqu\u00e9 sans cesse \u00e0 rechercher les moyens et la possibilit\u00e9 de\nm'\u00e9chapper de ce lieu.--Pour que je puisse avec le plus grand agr\u00e9ment\ndu lecteur, entamer le reste de mon histoire, il est bon que je donne\nquelque d\u00e9tail sur la conception de mes absurdes projets de fuite, et\nque je fasse voir comment et sur quelle fondation j'\u00e9difiais.\nQu'on suppose maintenant que je suis retir\u00e9 dans mon ch\u00e2teau, apr\u00e8s mon\ndernier voyage au b\u00e2timent naufrag\u00e9, que ma fr\u00e9gate est d\u00e9sarm\u00e9e et\namarr\u00e9e sous l'eau comme de coutume, et ma condition est rendue \u00e0 ce\nqu'elle \u00e9tait auparavant. J'ai, il est vrai, plus d'opulence; mais je\nn'en suis pas plus riche, car je ne fais ni plus de cas ni plus d'usage\nde mon or que les Indiens du P\u00e9rou avant l'arriv\u00e9e des Espagnols.\nPar une nuit de la saison pluvieuse de mars, dans la vingt-quatri\u00e8me\nann\u00e9e de ma vie solitaire, j'\u00e9tais couch\u00e9 dans mon lit ou hamac sans\npouvoir dormir, mais en parfaite sant\u00e9; je n'avais de plus qu'\u00e0\nl'ordinaire, ni peine ni indisposition, ni trouble de corps, ni trouble\nd'esprit; cependant il m'\u00e9tait impossible de fermer l'\u0153il, du moins pour\nsommeiller. De toute la nuit je ne m'assoupis pas autrement que comme il\nsuit.\nIl serait aussi impossible que superflu de narrer la multitude\ninnombrable de pens\u00e9es qui durant cette nuit me pass\u00e8rent par la\nm\u00e9moire, ce grand chemin du cerveau. Je me repr\u00e9sentai toute l'histoire\nde ma vie en miniature ou en raccourci, pour ainsi dire, avant et apr\u00e8s\nma venue dans l'\u00eele. Dans mes r\u00e9flexions sur ce qu'\u00e9tait ma condition\ndepuis que j'avais abord\u00e9 cette terre, je vins \u00e0 comparer l'\u00e9tat heureux\nde mes affaires pendant les premi\u00e8res ann\u00e9es de mon exil, \u00e0 cet \u00e9tat\nd'anxi\u00e9t\u00e9, de crainte et de pr\u00e9cautions dans lequel je vivais depuis que\nj'avais vu l'empreinte d'un pied d'homme sur le sable. Il n'est pas\ncroyable que les Sauvages n'eussent pas fr\u00e9quent\u00e9 l'\u00eele avant cette\n\u00e9poque: peut-\u00eatre y \u00e9taient-ils descendus au rivage par centaines; mais,\ncomme je n'en avais jamais rien su et n'avais pu en concevoir aucune\nappr\u00e9hension, ma s\u00e9curit\u00e9 \u00e9tait parfaite, bien que le p\u00e9ril f\u00fbt le m\u00eame.\nJ'\u00e9tais aussi heureux en ne connaissant point les dangers qui\nm'entouraient que si je n'y eusse r\u00e9ellement point \u00e9t\u00e9 expos\u00e9.--Cette\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9 fit na\u00eetre en mon esprit beaucoup de r\u00e9flexions profitables, et\nparticuli\u00e8rement celle-ci: Combien est infiniment bonne cette Providence\nqui dans sa sagesse a pos\u00e9 des bornes \u00e9troites \u00e0 la vue et \u00e0 la science\nde l'homme! Quoiqu'il marche au milieu de mille dangers dont le\nspectacle, s'ils se d\u00e9couvraient \u00e0 lui, troublerait son \u00e2me et\nterrasserait son courage, il garde son calme et sa s\u00e9r\u00e9nit\u00e9, parce que\nl'issue des choses est cach\u00e9e \u00e0 ses regards, parce qu'il ne sait rien\ndes dangers qui l'environnent.\nApr\u00e8s que ces pens\u00e9es m'eurent distrait quelque temps, je vins \u00e0\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir s\u00e9rieusement sur les dangers r\u00e9els que j'avais courus durant\ntant d'ann\u00e9es dans cette \u00eele m\u00eame o\u00f9 je me promenais dans la plus grande\ns\u00e9curit\u00e9, avec toute la tranquillit\u00e9 possible, quand peut-\u00eatre il n'y\navait que la pointe d'une colline, un arbre, ou les premi\u00e8res ombres de\nla nuit, entre moi et le plus affreux de touts les sorts, celui de\ntomber entre les mains des Sauvages, des cannibales, qui se seraient\nsaisis de moi dans le m\u00eame but que je le faisais d'une ch\u00e8vre ou d'une\ntortue, et n'auraient pas plus pens\u00e9 faire un crime en me tuant et en me\nd\u00e9vorant, que moi en mangeant un pigeon ou un courlis. Je serais\ninjustement mon propre d\u00e9tracteur, si je disais que je ne rendis pas\nsinc\u00e8rement gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 mon divin Conservateur pour toutes les d\u00e9livrances\ninconnues qu'avec la plus grande humilit\u00e9 je confessais devoir \u00e0 sa\ntoute particuli\u00e8re protection, sans laquelle je serais in\u00e9vitablement\ntomb\u00e9 entre ces mains impitoyables.\nCes consid\u00e9rations m'amen\u00e8rent \u00e0 faire des r\u00e9flexions, sur la nature de\nces Sauvages, et \u00e0 examiner comment il se faisait qu'en ce monde le sage\nDispensateur de toutes choses e\u00fbt abandonn\u00e9 quelques-unes de ses\ncr\u00e9atures \u00e0 une telle inhumanit\u00e9, au-dessous de la brutalit\u00e9 m\u00eame,\nqu'elles vont jusqu'\u00e0 se d\u00e9vorer dans leur propre esp\u00e8ce. Mais comme\ncela n'aboutissait qu'\u00e0 de vaines sp\u00e9culations, je me pris \u00e0 rechercher\ndans quel endroit du monde ces malheureux vivaient; \u00e0 quelle distance\n\u00e9tait la c\u00f4te d'o\u00f9 ils venaient; pourquoi ils s'aventuraient si loin de\nchez eux; quelle sorte de bateaux ils avaient, et pourquoi je ne\npourrais pas en ordonner de moi et de mes affaires de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 \u00eatre \u00e0\nm\u00eame d'aller \u00e0 eux aussi bien qu'ils venaient \u00e0 moi.\nJe ne me mis nullement en peine de ce que je ferais de moi quand je\nserais parvenu l\u00e0, de ce que je deviendrais si je tombais entre les\nmains des Sauvages; comment je leur \u00e9chapperais s'ils m'entreprenaient,\ncomment il me serait possible d'aborder \u00e0 la c\u00f4te sans \u00eatre attaqu\u00e9 par\nquelqu'un d'eux de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ne pouvoir me d\u00e9livrer moi-m\u00eame. Enfin,\ns'il advenait que je ne tombasse point en leur pouvoir, comment je me\nprocurerais des provisions et vers quel lieu je dirigerais ma course.\nAucune de ces pens\u00e9es, dis-je, ne se pr\u00e9senta \u00e0 mon esprit: mon id\u00e9e de\ngagner la terre ferme dans ma pirogue l'absorbait. Je regardais ma\nposition d'alors comme la plus mis\u00e9rable qui p\u00fbt \u00eatre, et je ne voyais\npas que je pusse rencontrer rien de pire, sauf la mort. Ne pouvais-je\npas trouver du secours en atteignant le continent, ou ne pouvais-je le\nc\u00f4toyer comme le rivage d'Afrique, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je parvinsse \u00e0 quelque\npays habit\u00e9 o\u00f9 l'on me pr\u00eaterait assistance. Apr\u00e8s tout, n'\u00e9tait-il pas\npossible que je rencontrasse un b\u00e2timent chr\u00e9tien qui me prendrait \u00e0 son\nbord; et enfin, le pire du pire advenant, je ne pouvais que mourir, ce\nqui tout d'un coup mettait fin \u00e0 toutes mes mis\u00e8res.--Notez, je vous\nprie, que tout ceci \u00e9tait le fruit du d\u00e9sordre de mon \u00e2me et de mon\nesprit v\u00e9h\u00e9ment, exasp\u00e9r\u00e9, en quelque sorte, par la continuit\u00e9 de mes\nsouffrances et par le d\u00e9sappointement que j'avais eu \u00e0 bord du vaisseau\nnaufrag\u00e9, o\u00f9 j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 si pr\u00e8s d'obtenir ce dont j'\u00e9tais ardemment\nd\u00e9sireux, c'est-\u00e0-dire quelqu'un \u00e0 qui parler, quelqu'un qui p\u00fbt me\ndonner quelque connaissance du lieu o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais et m'enseigner des moyens\nprobables de d\u00e9livrance. J'\u00e9tais donc, dis-je, totalement boulevers\u00e9 par\nces pens\u00e9es. Le calme de mon esprit, puis\u00e9 dans ma r\u00e9signation \u00e0 la\nProvidence et ma soumission aux volont\u00e9s du Ciel, semblait \u00eatre\nsuspendu; et je n'avais pas en quelque sorte la force de d\u00e9tourner ma\npens\u00e9e de ce projet de voyage, qui m'assi\u00e9geait de d\u00e9sirs si imp\u00e9tueux\nqu'il \u00e9tait impossible d'y r\u00e9sister.\nApr\u00e8s que cette passion m'eut agit\u00e9 pendant deux heures et plus, avec\nune telle violence que mon sang bouillonnait et que mon pouls battait\ncomme si la ferveur extraordinaire de mes d\u00e9sirs m'e\u00fbt donn\u00e9 la fi\u00e8vre,\nla nature fatigu\u00e9e, \u00e9puis\u00e9e, me jeta dans un profond sommeil.--On\npourrait croire que mes songes roul\u00e8rent sur le m\u00eame projet, mais non\npas, mais sur rien qui s'y rapport\u00e2t. Je r\u00eavai que, sortant un matin de\nmon ch\u00e2teau comme de coutume, je voyais sur le rivage deux canots et\nonze Sauvages d\u00e9barquant et apportant avec eux un autre Sauvage pour le\ntuer et le manger. Tout-\u00e0-coup, comme ils s'appr\u00eataient \u00e0 \u00e9gorger ce\nSauvage, il bondit au loin et se prit \u00e0 fuir pour sauver sa vie. Alors\nje crus voir dans mon r\u00eave que, pour se cacher, il accourait vers le\nbocage \u00e9pais masquant mes fortifications; puis, que, m'appercevant qu'il\n\u00e9tait seul et que les autres ne le cherchaient point par ce chemin, je\nme d\u00e9couvrais \u00e0 lui en lui souriant et l'encourageant; et qu'il\ns'agenouillait devant moi et semblait implorer mon assistance. Sur ce je\nlui montrais mon \u00e9chelle, je l'y faisais monter et je l'introduisais\ndans ma grotte, et il devenait mon serviteur. Sit\u00f4t que je me fus acquis\ncet homme je me dis: Maintenant je puis certainement me risquer \u00e0 gagner\nle continent, car ce compagnon me servira de pilote, me dira ce qu'il\nfaut faire, me dira o\u00f9 aller pour avoir des provisions ou ne pas aller\nde peur d'\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9; bref, les lieux \u00e0 aborder et ceux \u00e0 fuir. Je me\nr\u00e9veillai avec cette id\u00e9e; j'\u00e9tais encore sous l'inexprimable impression\nde joie qu'en r\u00eave j'avais ressentie \u00e0 l'aspect de ma d\u00e9livrance; mais\nen revenant \u00e0 moi et en trouvant que ce n'\u00e9tait qu'un songe, je\nressentis un d\u00e9sappointement non moins \u00e9trange et qui me jeta dans un\ngrand abattement d'esprit.\nJ'en tirai toutefois cette conclusion, que le seul moyen d'effectuer\nquelque tentative de fuite, c'\u00e9tait de m'acqu\u00e9rir un Sauvage, surtout,\nsi c'\u00e9tait possible, quelque prisonnier condamn\u00e9 \u00e0 \u00eatre mang\u00e9 et amen\u00e9 \u00e0\nterre pour \u00eatre \u00e9gorg\u00e9. Mais une difficult\u00e9 s'\u00e9levait encore. Il \u00e9tait\nimpossible d'ex\u00e9cuter ce dessein sans assaillir et massacrer toute une\ncaravane: vrai coup de d\u00e9sespoir qui pouvait si facilement manquer! D'un\nautre c\u00f4t\u00e9 j'avais de grands scrupules sur la l\u00e9gitimit\u00e9 de cet acte, et\nmon c\u0153ur bondissait \u00e0 la seule pens\u00e9e de verser tant de sang, bien que\nce f\u00fbt pour ma d\u00e9livrance. Il n'est pas besoin de r\u00e9p\u00e9ter ici les\narguments qui venaient plaider contre ce bon sentiment: ce sont les\nm\u00eames que ceux dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait mention; mais, quoique j'eusse\nencore d'autres raisons \u00e0 exposer alors, c'est-\u00e0-dire que ces hommes\n\u00e9taient mes ennemis et me d\u00e9voreraient s'il leur \u00e9tait possible; que\nc'\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement pour ma propre conservation que je devais me d\u00e9livrer\nde cette mort dans la vie, et que j'agissais pour ma propre d\u00e9fense tout\naussi bien que s'ils m'attaquaient; quoique, dis-je, toutes ces raisons\nmilitassent pour moi, cependant la pens\u00e9e de verser du sang humain pour\nma d\u00e9livrance m'\u00e9tait si terrible, que j'eus beau faire, je ne pus de\nlong-temps me concilier avec elle.\nN\u00e9anmoins, enfin, apr\u00e8s beaucoup de d\u00e9lib\u00e9rations intimes, apr\u00e8s de\ngrandes perplexit\u00e9s,--car touts ces arguments pour et contre s'agit\u00e8rent\nlong-temps dans ma t\u00eate,--mon v\u00e9h\u00e9ment d\u00e9sir pr\u00e9valut et \u00e9touffa tout le\nreste, et je me d\u00e9terminai, co\u00fbte que co\u00fbte, \u00e0 m'emparer de quelqu'un de\nces Sauvages. La question \u00e9tait alors de savoir comment m'y prendre, et\nc'\u00e9tait chose difficile \u00e0 r\u00e9soudre; mais, comme aucun moyen probable ne\nse pr\u00e9sentait \u00e0 mon choix, je r\u00e9solus donc de faire seulement sentinelle\npour guetter quand ils d\u00e9barqueraient, de n'arr\u00eater mes mesures que dans\nl'occasion, de m'abandonner \u00e0 l'\u00e9v\u00e9nement, de le laisser \u00eatre ce qu'il\nvoudrait.\nPlein de cette r\u00e9solution, je me mis en vedette aussi souvent que\npossible, si souvent m\u00eame que je m'en fatiguai profond\u00e9ment; car pendant\nun an et demi je fis le guet et allai une grande partie de ce temps au\nmoins une fois par jour \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 Ouest et Sud-Ouest de l'\u00eele pour\nd\u00e9couvrir des canots, mais sans que j'apper\u00e7usse rien. C'\u00e9tait vraiment\nd\u00e9courageant, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m'inqui\u00e9ter beaucoup, bien que je ne\npuisse dire qu'en ce cas mes d\u00e9sirs se soient \u00e9mouss\u00e9s comme autrefois.\nMa passion croissait avec l'attente. En un mot je n'avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9\nd'abord plus soigneux de fuir la vue des Sauvages et d'\u00e9viter d'\u00eatre\napper\u00e7u par eux, que j'\u00e9tais alors d\u00e9sireux de les entreprendre.\nFIN DE LA VIE SOLITAIRE\nAlors je me figurais m\u00eame que si je m'emparais de deux ou trois\nSauvages, j'\u00e9tais capable de les gouverner de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 m'en faire\nesclaves, \u00e0 me les assuj\u00e9tir compl\u00e8tement et \u00e0 leur \u00f4ter \u00e0 jamais tout\nmoyen de me nuire. Je me complaisais dans cette id\u00e9e, mais toujours rien\nne se pr\u00e9sentait: toutes mes volont\u00e9s, touts mes plans n'aboutissaient \u00e0\nrien, car il ne venait point de Sauvages.\nUn an et demi environ apr\u00e8s que j'eus con\u00e7u ces id\u00e9es, et que par une\nlongue r\u00e9flexion j'eus en quelque mani\u00e8re d\u00e9cid\u00e9 qu'elles demeureraient\nsans r\u00e9sultat faute d'occasion, je fus surpris un matin, de tr\u00e8s-bonne\nheure, en ne voyant pas moins de cinq canots touts ensemble au rivage\nsur mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele. Les Sauvages \u00e0 qui ils appartenaient \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0\n\u00e0 terre et hors de ma vue. Le nombre de ces canots rompait toutes mes\nmesures; car, n'ignorant pas qu'ils venaient toujours quatre ou six,\nquelquefois plus, dans chaque embarcation, je ne savais que penser de\ncela, ni quel plan dresser pour attaquer moi seul vingt ou trente\nhommes. Aussi demeurai-je dans mon ch\u00e2teau embarrass\u00e9 et abattu.\nCependant, dans la m\u00eame attitude que j'avais prise autrefois, je me\npr\u00e9parai \u00e0 repousser une attaque; j'\u00e9tais tout pr\u00eat \u00e0 agir si quelque\nchose se f\u00fbt pr\u00e9sent\u00e9. Ayant attendu long-temps et long-temps pr\u00eat\u00e9\nl'oreille pour \u00e9couter s'il se faisait quelque bruit, je m'impatientai\nenfin; et, laissant mes deux fusils au pied de mon \u00e9chelle, je montai\njusqu'au sommet du rocher, en deux escalades, comme d'ordinaire. L\u00e0,\npost\u00e9 de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 ce que ma t\u00eate ne par\u00fbt point au-dessus de la cime,\npour qu'en aucune mani\u00e8re on ne p\u00fbt m'appercevoir, j'observai \u00e0 l'aide\nde mes lunettes d'approche qu'ils \u00e9taient au moins au nombre de trente,\nqu'ils avaient allum\u00e9 un feu et pr\u00e9par\u00e9 leur nourriture: quel aliment\n\u00e9tait-ce et comment l'accommodaient-ils, c'est ce que je ne pus savoir;\nmais je les vis touts danser autour du feu, et, suivant leur coutume,\navec je ne sais combien de figures et de gesticulations barbares.\nTandis que je regardais ainsi, j'apper\u00e7us par ma longue-vue deux\nmis\u00e9rables qu'on tirait des pirogues, o\u00f9 sans doute ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 mis\nen r\u00e9serve, et qu'alors on faisait sortir pour \u00eatre massacr\u00e9s. J'en vis\naussit\u00f4t tomber un assomm\u00e9, je pense, avec un casse-t\u00eate ou un sabre de\nbois, selon l'usage de ces nations. Deux ou trois de ces meurtriers se\nmirent incontinent \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre et le d\u00e9pec\u00e8rent pour leur cuisine, pendant\nque l'autre victime demeurait l\u00e0 en attendant qu'ils fussent pr\u00eats pour\nelle. En ce moment m\u00eame la nature inspira \u00e0 ce pauvre malheureux, qui se\nvoyait un peu en libert\u00e9, quelque espoir de sauver sa vie; il s'\u00e9lan\u00e7a,\net se prit \u00e0 courir avec une incroyable vitesse, le long des sables,\ndroit vers moi, j'entends vers la partie de la c\u00f4te o\u00f9 \u00e9tait mon\nhabitation.\nJe fus horriblement effray\u00e9,--il faut que je l'avoue,--quand je le vis\nenfiler ce chemin, surtout quand je m'imaginai le voir poursuivi par\ntoute la troupe. Je crus alors qu'une partie de mon r\u00eave allait se\nv\u00e9rifier, et qu'\u00e0 coup s\u00fbr il se r\u00e9fugierait dans mon bocage; mais je ne\ncomptais pas du tout que le d\u00e9nouement serait le m\u00eame, c'est-\u00e0-dire que\nles autres Sauvages ne l'y pourchasseraient pas et ne l'y trouveraient\npoint. Je demeurai toutefois \u00e0 mon poste, et bient\u00f4t je recouvrai\nquelque peu mes esprits lorsque je reconnus qu'ils n'\u00e9taient que trois\nhommes \u00e0 sa poursuite. Je retrouvai surtout du courage en voyant qu'il\nles surpassait excessivement \u00e0 la course et gagnait du terrain sur eux,\nde mani\u00e8re que s'il pouvait aller de ce train une demi-heure encore il\n\u00e9tait indubitable qu'il leur \u00e9chapperait.\nIl y avait entre eux et mon ch\u00e2teau la crique dont j'ai souvent parl\u00e9\ndans la premi\u00e8re partie de mon histoire, quand je fis le sauvetage du\nnavire, et je pr\u00e9vis qu'il faudrait n\u00e9cessairement que le pauvre\ninfortun\u00e9 la pass\u00e2t \u00e0 la nage ou qu'il f\u00fbt pris. Mais lorsque le Sauvage\n\u00e9chapp\u00e9 eut atteint jusque l\u00e0, il ne fit ni une ni deux, malgr\u00e9 la mar\u00e9e\nhaute, il s'y plongea; il gagna l'autre rive en une trentaine de\nbrass\u00e9es ou environ, et se reprit \u00e0 courir avec une force et une vitesse\nsans pareilles. Quand ses trois ennemis arriv\u00e8rent \u00e0 la crique, je vis\nqu'il n'y en avait que deux qui sussent nager. Le troisi\u00e8me s'arr\u00eata sur\nle bord, regarda sur l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 et n'alla pas plus loin. Au bout de\nquelques instants il s'en retourna pas \u00e0 pas; et, d'apr\u00e8s ce qui advint,\nce fut tr\u00e8s-heureux pour lui.\nToutefois j'observai que les deux qui savaient nager mirent \u00e0 passer la\ncrique deux fois plus de temps que n'en avait mis le malheureux qui les\nfuyait.--Mon esprit con\u00e7ut alors avec feu, et irr\u00e9sistiblement, que\nl'heure \u00e9tait venue de m'acqu\u00e9rir un serviteur, peut-\u00eatre un camarade ou\nun ami, et que j'\u00e9tais manifestement appel\u00e9 par la Providence \u00e0 sauver\nla vie de cette pauvre cr\u00e9ature. Aussit\u00f4t je descendis en toute h\u00e2te par\nmes \u00e9chelles, je pris deux fusils que j'y avais laiss\u00e9s au pied, comme\nje l'ai dit tant\u00f4t, et, remontant avec la m\u00eame pr\u00e9cipitation, je\nm'avan\u00e7ai vers la mer. Ayant coup\u00e9 par le plus court au bas de la\nmontagne, je me pr\u00e9cipitai entre les poursuivants et le poursuivi, et\nj'appelai le fuyard. Il se retourna et fut peut-\u00eatre d'abord tout aussi\neffray\u00e9 de moi que moi je l'\u00e9tais d'eux; mais je lui fis signe de la\nmain de revenir, et en m\u00eame temps je m'avan\u00e7ai lentement vers les deux\nqui accouraient. Tout-\u00e0-coup je me pr\u00e9cipitai sur le premier, et je\nl'assommai avec la crosse de mon fusil. Je ne me souciais pas de faire\nfeu, de peur que l'explosion ne f\u00fbt entendue des autres, quoique \u00e0 cette\ndistance cela ne se p\u00fbt gu\u00e8re; d'ailleurs, comme ils n'auraient pu\nappercevoir la fum\u00e9e, ils n'auraient pu ais\u00e9ment savoir d'o\u00f9 cela\nprovenait. Ayant donc assomm\u00e9 celui-ci, l'autre qui le suivait s'arr\u00eata\ncomme s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 effray\u00e9. J'allai \u00e0 grands pas vers lui; mais quand je\nm'en fus approch\u00e9, je le vis arm\u00e9 d'un arc, et pr\u00eat \u00e0 d\u00e9cocher une\nfl\u00e8che contre moi. Plac\u00e9 ainsi dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de tirer le premier, je\nle fis et je le tuai du coup. Le pauvre Sauvage \u00e9chapp\u00e9 avait fait\nhalte; mais, bien qu'il v\u00eet ses deux ennemis mordre la poussi\u00e8re, il\n\u00e9tait pourtant si \u00e9pouvant\u00e9 du feu et du bruit de mon arme, qu'il\ndemeura p\u00e9trifi\u00e9, n'osant aller ni en avant ni en arri\u00e8re. Il me parut\ncependant plut\u00f4t dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 s'enfuir encore qu'\u00e0 s'approcher. Je\nl'appelai de nouveau et lui fis signe de venir, ce qu'il comprit\nfacilement. Il fit alors quelques pas et s'arr\u00eata, puis s'avan\u00e7a un peu\nplus et s'arr\u00eata encore; et je m'apper\u00e7us qu'il tremblait comme s'il e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 fait prisonnier et sur le point d'\u00eatre tu\u00e9 comme ses deux ennemis.\nJe lui fis signe encore de venir \u00e0 moi, et je lui donnai toutes les\nmarques d'encouragement que je pus imaginer. De plus pr\u00e8s en plus pr\u00e8s\nil se risqua, s'agenouillant \u00e0 chaque dix ou douze pas pour me t\u00e9moigner\nsa reconnaissance de lui avoir sauv\u00e9 la vie. Je lui souriais, je le\nregardais aimablement et l'invitais toujours \u00e0 s'avancer. Enfin il\ns'approcha de moi; puis, s'agenouillant encore, baisa la terre, mit sa\nt\u00eate sur la terre, pris mon pied et mit mon pied sur sa t\u00eate: ce fut, il\nme semble, un serment jur\u00e9 d'\u00eatre \u00e0 jamais mon esclave. Je le relevai,\nje lui fis des caresses, et le rassurai par tout ce que je pus. Mais la\nbesogne n'\u00e9tait pas, achev\u00e9e; car je m'apper\u00e7us alors que le Sauvage que\nj'avais assomm\u00e9 n'\u00e9tait pas tu\u00e9, mais seulement \u00e9tourdi, et qu'il\ncommen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se remettre. Je le montrai du doigt \u00e0 mon Sauvage, en lui\nfaisant remarquer qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas mort. Sur ce il me dit quelques\nmots, qui, bien que je ne les comprisse pas, me furent bien doux \u00e0\nentendre; car c'\u00e9tait le premier son de voix humaine, la mienne\nexcept\u00e9e, que j'eusse ou\u00ef depuis vingt-cinq ans. Mais l'heure de\nm'abandonner \u00e0 de pareilles r\u00e9flexions n'\u00e9tait pas venue; le Sauvage\nabasourdi avait recouvr\u00e9 assez de force pour se mettre sur son s\u00e9ant et\nje m'appercevais que le mien commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 s'en effrayer. Quand je vis\ncela je pris mon second fusil et couchai en joue notre homme, comme si\nj'eusse voulu tirer sur lui. L\u00e0-dessus, mon Sauvage, car d\u00e8s lors je\npouvais l'appeler ainsi, me demanda que je lui pr\u00eatasse mon sabre qui\npendait nu \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9; je le lui donnai: il ne l'eut pas plus t\u00f4t, qu'il\ncourut \u00e0 son ennemi et d'un seul coup lui trancha la t\u00eate si adroitement\nqu'il n'y a pas en Allemagne un bourreau qui l'e\u00fbt fait ni plus vite ni\nmieux. Je trouvai cela \u00e9trange pour un Sauvage, que je supposais avec\nraison n'avoir jamais vu auparavant d'autres sabres que les sabres de\nbois de sa nation. Toutefois il para\u00eet, comme je l'appris plus tard, que\nces sabres sont si affil\u00e9s, sont si pesants et d'un bois si dur, qu'ils\npeuvent d'un seul coup abattre une t\u00eate ou un bras. Apr\u00e8s cet exploit il\nrevint \u00e0 moi, riant en signe de triomphe, et avec une foule de gestes\nque je ne compris pas il d\u00e9posa \u00e0 mes pieds mon sabre et la t\u00eate du\nSauvage.\nMais ce qui l'intrigua beaucoup, ce fut de savoir comment de si loin\nj'avais pu tuer l'autre Indien, et, me le montrant du doigt, il me fit\ndes signes pour que je l'y laissasse aller. Je lui r\u00e9pondis donc du\nmieux que je pus que je le lui permettais. Quand il s'en fut approch\u00e9,\nil le regarda et demeura l\u00e0 comme un \u00e9bahi; puis, le tournant tant\u00f4t\nd'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 tant\u00f4t d'un autre, il examina la blessure. La balle avait\nfrapp\u00e9 juste dans la poitrine et avait fait un trou d'o\u00f9 peu de sang\navait coul\u00e9: sans doute il s'\u00e9tait \u00e9panch\u00e9 int\u00e9rieurement, car il \u00e9tait\nbien mort. Enfin il lui prit son arc et ses fl\u00e8ches et s'en revint. Je\nme mis alors en devoir de partir et je l'invitai \u00e0 me suivre, en lui\ndonnant \u00e0 entendre qu'il en pourrait survenir d'autres en plus grand\nnombre.\nSur ce il me fit signe qu'il voulait enterrer les deux cadavres, pour\nque les autres, s'ils accouraient, ne pussent les voir. Je le lui\npermis, et il se jeta \u00e0 l'ouvrage. En un instant il eut creus\u00e9 avec ses\nmains un trou dans le sable assez grand pour y ensevelir le premier,\nqu'il y tra\u00eena et qu'il recouvrit; il en fit de m\u00eame pour l'autre. Je\npense qu'il ne mit pas plus d'un quart d'heure \u00e0 les enterrer touts les\ndeux. Je le rappelai alors, et l'emmenai, non dans mon ch\u00e2teau, mais\ndans la caverne que j'avais plus avant dans l'\u00eele. Je fis ainsi mentir\ncette partie de mon r\u00eave qui lui donnait mon bocage pour abri.\nL\u00e0 je lui offris du pain, une grappe de raisin et de l'eau, dont je vis\nqu'il avait vraiment grand besoin \u00e0 cause de sa course. Lorsqu'il se fut\nrestaur\u00e9, je lui fis signe d'aller se coucher et de dormir, en lui\nmontrant un tas de paille de riz avec une couverture dessus, qui me\nservait de lit quelquefois \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame. La pauvre cr\u00e9ature se coucha donc\net s'endormit.\nC'\u00e9tait un grand beau gar\u00e7on, svelte et bien tourn\u00e9, et \u00e0 mon estime\nd'environ vingt-six ans. Il avait un bon maintien, l'aspect ni arrogant\nni farouche et quelque chose de tr\u00e8s-m\u00e2le dans la face; cependant il\navait aussi toute l'expression douce et molle d'un Europ\u00e9en, surtout\nquand il souriait. Sa chevelure \u00e9tait longue et noire, et non pas cr\u00e9pue\ncomme de la laine. Son front \u00e9tait haut et large, ses yeux vifs et\npleins de feu. Son teint n'\u00e9tait pas noir, mais tr\u00e8s-basan\u00e9, sans rien\navoir cependant de ce ton jaun\u00e2tre, cuivr\u00e9 et naus\u00e9abond des Br\u00e9siliens,\ndes Virginiens et autres naturels de l'Am\u00e9rique; il approchait plut\u00f4t\nd'une l\u00e9g\u00e8re couleur d'olive fonc\u00e9, plus agr\u00e9able en soi que facile \u00e0\nd\u00e9crire. Il avait le visage rond et potel\u00e9, le nez petit et non pas\naplati comme ceux des N\u00e8gres, la bouche belle, les l\u00e8vres minces, les\ndents fines, bien rang\u00e9es et blanches comme ivoire.--Apr\u00e8s avoir\nsommeill\u00e9 plut\u00f4t que dormi environ une demi-heure, il s'\u00e9veilla et\nsortit de la caverne pour me rejoindre; car j'\u00e9tais all\u00e9 traire mes\nch\u00e8vres, parqu\u00e9es dans l'enclos pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0. Quand il m'apper\u00e7ut il vint\n\u00e0 moi en courant, et se jeta \u00e0 terre avec toutes les marques possibles\nd'une humble reconnaissance, qu'il manifestait par une foule de\ngrotesques gesticulations. Puis il posa sa t\u00eate \u00e0 plat sur la terre,\nprit l'un de mes pieds et le posa sur sa t\u00eate, comme il avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait;\npuis il m'adressa touts les signes imaginables d'assujettissement, de\nservitude et de soumission, pour me donner \u00e0 conna\u00eetre combien \u00e9tait\ngrand son d\u00e9sir de s'attacher \u00e0 moi pour la vie. Je le comprenais en\nbeaucoup de choses, et je lui t\u00e9moignais que j'\u00e9tais fort content de\nlui.\nVENDREDI\nEn peu de temps je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 lui parler et \u00e0 lui apprendre \u00e0 me\nparler. D'abord je lui fis savoir que son nom serait Vendredi; c'\u00e9tait\nle jour o\u00f9 je lui avais sauv\u00e9 la vie, et je l'appelai ainsi en m\u00e9moire\nde ce jour. Je lui enseignai \u00e9galement \u00e0 m'appeler _ma\u00eetre_, \u00e0 dire\n_oui_ et _non_, et je lui appris ce que ces mots signifiaient.--Je lui\ndonnai ensuite du lait dans un pot de terre; j'en bus le premier, j'y\ntrempai mon pain et lui donnai un g\u00e2teau pour qu'il f\u00eet de m\u00eame: il s'en\naccommoda aussit\u00f4t et me fit signe qu'il trouvait cela fort bon.\nJe demeurai l\u00e0 toute la nuit avec lui; mais d\u00e8s que le jour parut je lui\nfis comprendre qu'il fallait me suivre et que je lui donnerais des\nv\u00eatements; il parut charm\u00e9 de cela, car il \u00e9tait absolument nu. Comme\nnous passions par le lieu o\u00f9 il avait enterr\u00e9 les deux hommes, il me le\nd\u00e9signa exactement et me montra les marques qu'il avait faites pour le\nreconna\u00eetre, en me faisant signe que nous devrions les d\u00e9terrer et les\nmanger. L\u00e0-dessus je parus fort en col\u00e8re; je lui exprimai mon horreur\nen faisant comme si j'allais vomir \u00e0 cette pens\u00e9e, et je lui enjoignis\nde la main de passer outre, ce qu'il fit sur-le-champ avec une grande\nsoumission. Je l'emmenai alors sur le sommet de la montagne, pour voir\nsi les ennemis \u00e9taient partis; et, braquant ma longue-vue, je d\u00e9couvris\nparfaitement la place o\u00f9 ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9, mais aucune apparence d'eux ni\nde leurs canots. Il \u00e9tait donc positif qu'ils \u00e9taient partis et qu'ils\navaient laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re eux leurs deux camarades sans faire aucune\nrecherche.\nMais cette d\u00e9couverte ne me satisfaisait pas: ayant alors plus de\ncourage et cons\u00e9quemment plus de curiosit\u00e9, je pris mon Vendredi avec\nmoi, je lui mis une \u00e9p\u00e9e \u00e0 la main, sur le dos l'arc et les fl\u00e8ches,\ndont je le trouvai tr\u00e8s-adroit \u00e0 se servir; je lui donnai aussi \u00e0 porter\nun fusil pour moi; j'en pris deux moi-m\u00eame, et nous march\u00e2mes vers le\nlieu o\u00f9 avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 les Sauvages, car je d\u00e9sirais en avoir de plus\namples nouvelles. Quand j'y arrivai mon sang se gla\u00e7a dans mes veines,\net mon c\u0153ur d\u00e9faillit \u00e0 un horrible spectacle. C'\u00e9tait vraiment chose\nterrible \u00e0 voir, du moins pour moi, car cela ne fit rien \u00e0 Vendredi. La\nplace \u00e9tait couverte d'ossements humains, la terre teinte de sang; \u00e7\u00e0 et\nl\u00e0 \u00e9taient des morceaux de chair \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 mang\u00e9s, d\u00e9chir\u00e9s et r\u00f4tis, en\nun mot toutes les traces d'un festin de triomphe qu'ils avaient fait l\u00e0\napr\u00e8s une victoire sur leurs ennemis. Je vis trois cr\u00e2nes, cinq mains,\nles os de trois ou quatre jambes, des os de pieds et une foule d'autres\nparties du corps. Vendredi me fit entendre par ses signes que les\nSauvages avaient amen\u00e9 quatre prisonniers pour les manger, que trois\nl'avaient \u00e9t\u00e9, et que lui, en se d\u00e9signant lui-m\u00eame, \u00e9tait le quatri\u00e8me;\nqu'il y avait eu une grande bataille entre eux et un roi leur\nvoisin,--dont, ce semble, il \u00e9tait le sujet;--qu'un grand nombre de\nprisonniers avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 faits, et conduits en diff\u00e9rents lieux par ceux\nqui les avaient pris dans la d\u00e9route, pour \u00eatre mang\u00e9s, ainsi que\nl'avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 ceux d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s par ces mis\u00e9rables.\nJe commandai \u00e0 Vendredi de ramasser ces cr\u00e2nes, ces os, ces tron\u00e7ons et\ntout ce qui restait, de les mettre en un monceau et de faire un grand\nfeu dessus pour les r\u00e9duire en cendres. Je m'apper\u00e7usque Vendredi avait\nencore un violent app\u00e9tit pour cette chair, et que son naturel \u00e9tait\nencore cannibale; mais je lui montrai tant d'horreur \u00e0 cette id\u00e9e, \u00e0 la\nmoindre apparence de cet app\u00e9tit, qu'il n'osa pas le d\u00e9couvrir: car je\nlui avais fait parfaitement comprendre que s'il le manifestait je le\ntuerais.\nLorsqu'il eut fait cela, nous nous en retourn\u00e2mes \u00e0 notre ch\u00e2teau, et l\u00e0\nje me mis \u00e0 travailler avec mon serviteur Vendredi. Avant tout je lui\ndonnai une paire de cale\u00e7ons de toile que j'avais tir\u00e9e du coffre du\npauvre canonnier dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9 fait mention, et que j'avais trouv\u00e9e dans\nle b\u00e2timent naufrag\u00e9: avec un l\u00e9ger changement, elle lui alla tr\u00e8s-bien.\nJe lui fabriquai ensuite une casaque de peau de ch\u00e8vre aussi bien que me\nle permit mon savoir: j'\u00e9tais devenu alors un assez bon tailleur; puis\nje lui donnai un bonnet tr\u00e8s-commode et assez _fashionable_ que j'avais\nfait avec une peau de li\u00e8vre. Il fut ainsi passablement habill\u00e9 pour le\nmoment, et on ne peut plus ravi de se voir presque aussi bien v\u00eatu que\nson ma\u00eetre. \u00c0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, il eut d'abord l'air fort emp\u00each\u00e9 dans toutes\nces choses: ses cale\u00e7ons \u00e9taient port\u00e9s gauchement, ses manches de\ncasaque le g\u00eanaient aux \u00e9paules et sous les bras; mais, ayant \u00e9largi les\nendroits o\u00f9 il se plaignait qu'elles lui faisaient mal, et lui-m\u00eame s'y\naccoutumant, il finit par s'en accommoder fort bien.\nLe lendemain du jour o\u00f9 je vins avec lui \u00e0 ma _huche_ je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nexaminer o\u00f9 je pourrais le loger. Afin qu'il f\u00fbt commod\u00e9ment pour lui et\ncependant tr\u00e8s-convenablement pour moi, je lui \u00e9levai une petite cabane\ndans l'espace vide entre mes deux fortifications, en dedans de la\nderni\u00e8re et en dehors de la premi\u00e8re. Comme il y avait l\u00e0 une ouverture\ndonnant dans ma grotte, je fa\u00e7onnai une bonne huisserie et une porte de\nplanches que je posai dans le passage, un peu en dedans de l'entr\u00e9e.\nCette porte \u00e9tait ajust\u00e9e pour ouvrir \u00e0 l'int\u00e9rieur. La nuit je la\nbarrais et retirais aussi mes deux \u00e9chelles; de sorte que Vendredi\nn'aurait pu venir jusqu'\u00e0 moi dans mon dernier retranchement sans faire,\nen grimpant, quelque bruit qui m'aurait immanquablement r\u00e9veill\u00e9; car ce\nretranchement avait alors une toiture faite de longues perches couvrant\ntoute ma tente, s'appuyant contre le rocher et entrelac\u00e9es de\nbranchages, en guise de lattes, charg\u00e9es d'une couche tr\u00e8s-\u00e9paisse de\npaille de riz aussi forte que des roseaux. \u00c0 la place ou au trou que\nj'avais laiss\u00e9 pour entrer ou sortir avec mon \u00e9chelle, j'avais pos\u00e9 une\nsorte de trappe, qui, si elle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 forc\u00e9e \u00e0 l'ext\u00e9rieur, ne se serait\npoint ouverte, mais serait tomb\u00e9e avec un grand fracas. Quant aux armes,\nje les prenais toutes avec moi pendant la nuit.\nMais je n'avais pas besoin de tant de pr\u00e9cautions, car jamais homme\nn'eut un serviteur plus sinc\u00e8re, plus aimant, plus fid\u00e8le que Vendredi.\nSans passions, sans obstination, sans volont\u00e9, complaisant et\naffectueux, son attachement pour moi \u00e9tait celui d'un enfant pour son\np\u00e8re. J'ose dire qu'il aurait sacrifi\u00e9 sa vie pour sauver la mienne en\ntoute occasion. La quantit\u00e9 de preuves qu'il m'en donna mit cela hors de\ndoute, et je fus bient\u00f4t convaincu que pour ma s\u00fbret\u00e9 il n'\u00e9tait pas\nn\u00e9cessaire d'user de pr\u00e9cautions \u00e0 son \u00e9gard.\nCeci me donna souvent occasion d'observer, et avec \u00e9tonnement, que si\ntoutefois il avait plu \u00e0 Dieu, dans sa sagesse et dans le gouvernement\ndes \u0153uvres de ses mains, de d\u00e9tacher un grand nombre de ses cr\u00e9atures du\nbon usage auquel sont applicables leurs facult\u00e9s et les puissances de\nleur \u00e2me, il leur avait pourtant accord\u00e9 les m\u00eames forces, la m\u00eame\nraison, les m\u00eames affections, les m\u00eames sentiments d'amiti\u00e9 et\nd'obligeance, les m\u00eames passions, le m\u00eame ressentiment pour les\noutrages, le m\u00eame sens de gratitude, de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9, de fid\u00e9lit\u00e9, enfin\ntoutes les capacit\u00e9s, pour faire et recevoir le bien, qui nous ont \u00e9t\u00e9\ndonn\u00e9es \u00e0 nous-m\u00eames; et que, lorsqu'il pla\u00eet \u00e0 Dieu de leur envoyer\nl'occasion d'exercer leurs facult\u00e9s, ces cr\u00e9atures sont aussi dispos\u00e9es,\nm\u00eame mieux dispos\u00e9es que nous, \u00e0 les appliquer au bon usage pour lequel\nelles leur ont \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9parties. Je devenais parfois tr\u00e8s-m\u00e9lancolique\nlorsque je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais au m\u00e9diocre emploi que g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement nous\nfaisons de toutes ces facult\u00e9s, quoique notre intelligence soit \u00e9clair\u00e9e\npar le flambeau de l'instruction et l'Esprit de Dieu, et que notre\nentendement soit agrandi par la connaissance de sa parole. Pourquoi, me\ndemandais-je, pla\u00eet-il \u00e0 Dieu de cacher cette connaissance salutaire \u00e0\ntant de millions d'\u00e2mes qui, \u00e0 en juger par ce pauvre Sauvage, en\nauraient fait un meilleur usage que nous?\nDe l\u00e0 j'\u00e9tais quelquefois entra\u00een\u00e9 si loin que je m'attaquais \u00e0 la\nsouverainet\u00e9 de la Providence, et que j'accusais en quelque sorte sa\njustice d'une disposition assez arbitraire pour cacher la lumi\u00e8re aux\nuns, la r\u00e9v\u00e9ler aux autres, et cependant attendre de touts les m\u00eames\ndevoirs. Mais aussit\u00f4t je coupais court \u00e0 ces pens\u00e9es et les r\u00e9primais\npar cette conclusion: que nous ignorons selon quelle lumi\u00e8re et quelle\nloi seront condamn\u00e9es ces cr\u00e9atures; que Dieu \u00e9tant par son essence\ninfiniment saint et \u00e9quitable, si elles \u00e9taient sentenci\u00e9es, ce ne\npourrait \u00eatre pour ne l'avoir point connu, mais pour avoir p\u00e9ch\u00e9 contre\ncette lumi\u00e8re qui, comme dit l'\u00c9criture, \u00e9tait une loi pour elles, et\npar des pr\u00e9ceptes que leur propre conscience aurait reconnus \u00eatre\njustes, bien que le principe n'en f\u00fbt point manifeste pour nous;\nqu'enfin nous sommes touts _comme l'argile entre les mains du potier, \u00e0\nqui nul vase n'a droit de dire: Pourquoi m'as tu fait ainsi?_\nMais retournons \u00e0 mon nouveau compagnon. J'\u00e9tais enchant\u00e9 de lui, et je\nm'appliquais \u00e0 lui enseigner \u00e0 faire tout ce qui \u00e9tait propre \u00e0 le\nrendre utile, adroit, entendu, mais surtout \u00e0 me parler et \u00e0 me\ncomprendre, et je le trouvai le meilleur \u00e9colier qui f\u00fbt jamais. Il\n\u00e9tait si gai, si constamment assidu et si content quand il pouvait\nm'entendre ou se faire entendre de moi, qu'il m'\u00e9tait vraiment agr\u00e9able\nde causer avec lui. Alors ma vie commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 \u00eatre si douce que je me\ndisais: si je n'avais pas \u00e0 redouter les Sauvages, volontiers je\ndemeurerais en ce lieu aussi long-temps que je vivrais.\nTrois ou quatre jours apr\u00e8s mon retour au ch\u00e2teau je pensai que, pour\nd\u00e9tourner Vendredi de son horrible nourriture accoutum\u00e9e et de son\napp\u00e9tit cannibale, je devais lui faire go\u00fbter d'autre viande: je\nl'emmenai donc un matin dans les bois. J'y allais, au fait, dans\nl'intention de tuer un cabri de mon troupeau pour l'apporter et\nl'appr\u00eater au logis; mais, chemin faisant, je vis une ch\u00e8vre couch\u00e9e \u00e0\nl'ombre, avec deux jeunes chevreaux \u00e0 ses c\u00f4t\u00e9s. L\u00e0 dessus j'arr\u00eatai\nVendredi. Hol\u00e0! ne bouge pas, lui dis-je en lui faisant signe de ne pas\nremuer. Au m\u00eame instant je mis mon fusil en joue, je tirai et je tuai un\ndes chevreaux. Le pauvre diable, qui m'avait vu, il est vrai, tuer \u00e0 une\ngrande distance le Sauvage son ennemi, mais qui n'avait pu imaginer\ncomment cela s'\u00e9tait fait, fut jet\u00e9 dans une \u00e9trange surprise. Il\ntremblait, il chancelait, et avait l'air si constern\u00e9 que je pensai le\nvoir tomber en d\u00e9faillance. Il ne regarda pas le chevreau sur lequel\nj'avais fait feu ou ne s'apper\u00e7ut pas que je l'avais tu\u00e9, mais il\narracha sa veste pour s'assurer s'il n'\u00e9tait point bless\u00e9 lui-m\u00eame. Il\ncroyait sans doute que j'avais r\u00e9solu de me d\u00e9faire de lui; car il vint\ns'agenouiller devant moi, et, embrassant mes genoux, il me dit une\nmultitude de choses o\u00f9 je n'entendis rien, sinon qu'il me suppliait de\nne pas le tuer.\nJe trouvai bient\u00f4t un moyen de le convaincre que je ne voulais point lui\nfaire de mal: je le pris par la main et le relevai en souriant, et lui\nmontrant du doigt le chevreau que j'avais atteint, je lui fis signe de\nl'aller qu\u00e9rir. Il ob\u00e9it. Tandis qu'il s'\u00e9merveillait et cherchait \u00e0\nvoir comment cet animal avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9, je rechargeai mon fusil, et au\nm\u00eame instant j'apper\u00e7us, perch\u00e9 sur un arbre \u00e0 port\u00e9e de mousquet, un\ngrand oiseau semblable \u00e0 un faucon. Afin que Vendredi compr\u00eet un peu ce\nque j'allais faire, je le rappelai vers moi en lui montrant l'oiseau;\nc'\u00e9tait, au fait, un perroquet, bien que je l'eusse pris pour un faucon.\nJe lui d\u00e9signai donc le perroquet, puis mon fusil, puis la terre\nau-dessous du perroquet, pour lui indiquer que je voulais l'abattre et\nlui donner \u00e0 entendre que je voulais tirer sur cet oiseau et le tuer. En\ncons\u00e9quence je fis feu; je lui ordonnai de regarder, et sur-le-champ il\nvit tomber le perroquet. Nonobstant tout ce que je lui avais dit, il\ndemeura encore l\u00e0 comme un effar\u00e9. Je conjecturai qu'il \u00e9tait \u00e9pouvant\u00e9\nainsi parce qu'il ne m'avait rien vu mettre dans mon fusil, et qu'il\npensait que c'\u00e9tait une source merveilleuse de mort et de destruction\npropre \u00e0 tuer hommes, b\u00eates, oiseaux, ou quoi que ce f\u00fbt, de pr\u00e8s ou de\nloin.\n\u00c9DUCATION DE VENDREDI\nSon \u00e9tonnement fut tel, que de long-temps il n'en put revenir; et je\ncrois que si je l'eusse laiss\u00e9 faire il m'aurait ador\u00e9 moi et mon fusil.\nQuant au fusil lui-m\u00eame, il n'osa pas y toucher de plusieurs jours; mais\nlorsqu'il en \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s il lui parlait et l'implorai comme s'il e\u00fbt pu\nlui r\u00e9pondre. C'\u00e9tait, je l'appris dans la suite, pour le prier de ne\npas le tuer.\nLorsque sa frayeur se fut un peu dissip\u00e9e, je lui fis signe de courir\nchercher l'oiseau que j'avais frapp\u00e9, ce qu'il fit; mais il fut assez\nlong-temps absent, car le perroquet, n'\u00e9tant pas tout-\u00e0-fait mort,\ns'\u00e9tait tra\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0 une grande distance de l'endroit o\u00f9 je l'avais abattu.\nToutefois il le trouva, le ramassa et vint me l'apporter. Comme je\nm'\u00e9tais apper\u00e7u de son ignorance \u00e0 l'\u00e9gard de mon fusil, je profitai de\nson \u00e9loignement pour le recharger sans qu'il p\u00fbt me voir, afin d'\u00eatre\ntout pr\u00eat s'il se pr\u00e9sentait une autre occasion: mais plus rien ne\ns'offrit alors.--J'apportai donc le chevreau \u00e0 la maison, et le m\u00eame\nsoir je l'\u00e9corchai et je le d\u00e9pe\u00e7ai de mon mieux. Comme j'avais un vase\nconvenable, j'en mis bouillir ou consommer quelques morceaux, et je fis\nun excellent bouillon. Apr\u00e8s que j'eus t\u00e2t\u00e9 de cette viande, j'en donnai\n\u00e0 mon serviteur, qui en parut tr\u00e8s-content et trouva cela fort de son\ngo\u00fbt. Mais ce qui le surprit beaucoup, ce fut de me voir manger du sel\navec la viande. Il me fit signe que le sel n'\u00e9tait pas bon \u00e0 manger, et,\nen ayant mis un peu dans sa bouche, son c\u0153ur sembla se soulever, il le\ncracha et le recracha, puis se rin\u00e7a la bouche avec de l'eau fra\u00eeche. \u00c0\nmon tour je pris une bouch\u00e9e de viande sans sel, et je me mis \u00e0 cracher\net \u00e0 crachoter aussi vite qu'il avait fait; mais cela ne le d\u00e9cida\npoint, et il ne se soucia jamais de saler sa viande ou son bouillon, si\nce n'est que fort long-temps apr\u00e8s, et encore ce ne fut que tr\u00e8s-peu.\nApr\u00e8s lui avoir fait ainsi go\u00fbter du bouilli et du bouillon, je r\u00e9solus\nde le r\u00e9galer le lendemain d'une pi\u00e8ce de chevreau r\u00f4ti. Pour la faire\ncuire je la suspendis \u00e0 une ficelle devant le feu,--comme je l'avais vu\npratiquer \u00e0 beaucoup de gens en Angleterre,--en plantant deux pieux, un\nsur chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 du brasier, avec un troisi\u00e8me pieu pos\u00e9 en travers sur\nleur sommet, en attachant la ficelle \u00e0 cette traverse et en faisant\ntourner la viande continuellement. Vendredi s'\u00e9merveilla de cette\ninvention; et quand il vint \u00e0 manger de ce r\u00f4ti, il s'y prit de tant de\nmani\u00e8res pour me faire savoir combien il le trouvait \u00e0 son go\u00fbt, que je\nn'eusse pu ne pas le comprendre. Enfin il me d\u00e9clara que d\u00e9sormais il ne\nmangerait plus d'aucune chair humaine, ce dont je fus fort aise.\nLe jour suivant je l'occupai \u00e0 piler du bl\u00e9 et \u00e0 bluter, suivant la\nmani\u00e8re que je mentionnai autrefois. Il apprit promptement \u00e0 faire cela\naussi bien que moi, apr\u00e8s surtout qu'il eut compris quel en \u00e9tait le\nbut, et que c'\u00e9tait pour faire du pain, car ensuite je lui montrai \u00e0\np\u00e9trir et \u00e0 cuire au four. En peu de temps Vendredi devint capable\nd'ex\u00e9cuter toute ma besogne aussi bien que moi-m\u00eame.\nJe commen\u00e7ai alors \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir qu'ayant deux bouches \u00e0 nourrir au lieu\nd'une, je devais me pourvoir de plus de terrain pour ma moisson et semer\nune plus grande quantit\u00e9 de grain que de coutume. Je choisis donc une\nplus grande pi\u00e8ce de terre, et me mis \u00e0 l'enclorre de la m\u00eame fa\u00e7on que\nmes autres champs, ce \u00e0 quoi Vendredi travailla non-seulement volontiers\net de tout c\u0153ur mais tr\u00e8s-joyeusement. Je lui dis que c'\u00e9tait pour avoir\ndu bl\u00e9 de quoi faire plus de pain, parce qu'il \u00e9tait maintenant avec moi\net afin que je pusse en avoir assez pour lui et pour moi m\u00eame. Il parut\ntr\u00e8s-sensible \u00e0 cette attention et me fit conna\u00eetre qu'il pensait que je\nprenais beaucoup plus de peine pour lui que pour moi, et qu'il\ntravaillerait plus rudement si je voulais lui dire ce qu'il fallait\nfaire.\nCette ann\u00e9e fut la plus agr\u00e9able de toutes celles que je passai dans\nl'\u00eele. Vendredi commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 parler assez bien et \u00e0 entendre le nom de\npresque toutes les choses que j'avais occasion de nommer et de touts les\nlieux o\u00f9 j'avais \u00e0 l'envoyer. Il jasait beaucoup, de sorte qu'en peu de\ntemps je recouvrai l'usage de ma langue, qui auparavant m'\u00e9tait fort peu\nutile, du moins quant \u00e0 la parole. Outre le plaisir que je puisais dans\nsa conversation, j'avais \u00e0 me louer de lui-m\u00eame tout particuli\u00e8rement;\nsa simple et na\u00efve candeur m'apparaissait de plus en plus chaque jour.\nJe commen\u00e7ais r\u00e9ellement \u00e0 aimer cette cr\u00e9ature, qui, de son c\u00f4t\u00e9, je\ncrois, m'aimait plus que tout ce qu'il lui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 possible d'aimer\njusque l\u00e0.\nUn jour j'eus envie de savoir s'il n'avait pas quelque penchant \u00e0\nretourner dans sa patrie; et, comme je lui avais si bien appris\nl'anglais qu'il pouvait r\u00e9pondre \u00e0 la plupart de mes questions, je lui\ndemandai si la nation \u00e0 laquelle il appartenait ne vainquait jamais dans\nles batailles. \u00c0 cela il se mit \u00e0 sourire et me dit:--\u00abOui, oui, nous\ntoujours se battre le meilleur;\u00bb--il voulait dire: nous avons toujours\nl'avantage dans le combat. Et ainsi nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes l'entretien\nsuivant:--Vous toujours se battre le meilleur; d'o\u00f9 vient alors,\nVendredi, que tu as \u00e9t\u00e9 fait prisonnier?\nVendredi.--Ma nation battre beaucoup pour tout cela.\nLe ma\u00eetre.--Comment battre! si ta nation les a battus, comment se\nfait-il que tu aies \u00e9t\u00e9 pris?\nVendredi.--Eux plus que ma nation dans la place o\u00f9 moi \u00e9tais; eux\nprendre un, deux, trois et moi. Ma nation battre eux tout-\u00e0-fait dans la\nplace l\u00e0-bas o\u00f9 moi n'\u00eatre pas; l\u00e0 ma nation prendre un, deux, grand\nmille.\nLe ma\u00eetre.--Mais pourquoi alors ne te reprit-elle pas des mains de\nl'ennemi?\nVendredi.--Eux emporter un, deux, trois et moi, et faire aller dans le\ncanot; ma nation n'avoir pas canot cette fois.\nLe ma\u00eetre.--Eh bien, Vendredi, que fait ta nation des hommes qu'elle\nprend? les emm\u00e8ne-t-elle et les mange-t-elle aussi?\nVendredi.--Oui, ma nation manger hommes aussi, manger touts.\nLe ma\u00eetre.--O\u00f9 les m\u00e8ne-t-elle?\nVendredi.--Aller \u00e0 toute place o\u00f9 elle pense.\nLe ma\u00eetre.--Vient-elle ici?\nVendredi.--Oui, oui; elle venir ici, venir autre place.\nLe ma\u00eetre.--Es-tu venu ici avec vos gens?\nVendredi.--Oui, moi venir l\u00e0.--Il montrait du doigt le c\u00f4t\u00e9 Nord-Ouest\nde l'\u00eele qui, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, \u00e9tait le c\u00f4t\u00e9 qu'ils affectionnaient.\nPar l\u00e0 je compris que mon serviteur Vendredi avait \u00e9t\u00e9 jadis du nombre\ndes Sauvages qui avaient coutume de venir au rivage dans la partie la\nplus \u00e9loign\u00e9e de l'\u00eele, pour manger de la chair humaine qu'ils y\napportaient; et quelque temps, apr\u00e8s, lorsque je pris le courage d'aller\navec lui de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, qui \u00e9tait le m\u00eame dont je fis mention autrefois, il\nreconnut l'endroit de prime-abord, et me dit que l\u00e0 il \u00e9tait venu une\nfois, qu'on y avait mang\u00e9 vingt hommes, deux femmes et un enfant. Il ne\nsavait pas compter jusqu'\u00e0 vingt en anglais; mais il mit autant de\npierres sur un m\u00eame rang et me pria de les compter.\nJ'ai narr\u00e9 ce fait parce qu'il est l'introduction de ce qui suit.--Apr\u00e8s\nque j'eus eu cet entretien avec lui, je lui demandai combien il y avait\nde notre \u00eele au continent, et si les canots rarement p\u00e9rissaient. Il me\nr\u00e9pondit qu'il n'y avait point de danger, que jamais il ne se perdait un\ncanot; qu'un peu plus avant en mer on trouvait dans la matin\u00e9e toujours\nle m\u00eame courant et le m\u00eame vent, et dans l'apr\u00e8s-midi un vent et un\ncourant oppos\u00e9s.\nJe m'imaginai d'abord que ce n'\u00e9tait autre chose que les mouvements de\nla mar\u00e9e, le jusant et le flot; mais je compris dans la suite que la\ncause de cela \u00e9tait le grand flux et reflux de la puissante rivi\u00e8re de\nl'Or\u00e9noque,--dans l'embouchure de laquelle, comme je le reconnus plus\ntard, notre \u00eele \u00e9tait situ\u00e9e,--et que la terre que je d\u00e9couvrais \u00e0\nl'Ouest et au Nord-Ouest \u00e9tait la grande \u00eele de la Trinit\u00e9, sise \u00e0 la\npointe septentrionale des bouches de ce fleuve. J'adressai \u00e0 Vendredi\nmille questions touchant la contr\u00e9e, les habitants, la mer, les c\u00f4tes et\nles peuples qui en \u00e9taient voisins, et il me dit tout ce qu'il savait\navec la plus grande ouverture de c\u0153ur imaginable. Je lui demandai aussi\nles noms de ces diff\u00e9rentes nations; mais je ne pus obtenir pour toute\nr\u00e9ponse que _Caribs_, d'o\u00f9 je d\u00e9duisis ais\u00e9ment que c'\u00e9taient les\n_Caribes_, que nos cartes placent dans cette partie de l'Am\u00e9rique qui\ns'\u00e9tend de l'embouchure du fleuve de l'Or\u00e9noque vers la Guyane et\njusqu'\u00e0 Sainte-Marthe. Il me raconta que bien loin par del\u00e0 la lune, il\nvoulait dire par del\u00e0 le couchant de la lune, ce qui doit \u00eatre \u00e0 l'Ouest\nde leur contr\u00e9e, il y avait, me montrant du doigt mes grandes\nmoustaches, dont autrefois je fis mention, des hommes blancs et barbus\ncomme moi, et qu'ils avaient tu\u00e9 _beaucoup hommes_, ce fut son\nexpression. Je compris qu'il d\u00e9signait par l\u00e0 les Espagnols, dont les\ncruaut\u00e9s en Am\u00e9rique se sont \u00e9tendues sur touts ces pays, cruaut\u00e9s dont\nchaque nation garde un souvenir qui se transmet de p\u00e8re en fils.\nJe lui demandai encore s'il savait comment je pourrais aller de mon \u00eele\njusqu'\u00e0 ces hommes blancs. Il me r\u00e9pondit:--\u00abOui, oui, pouvoir y aller\ndans deux canots.\u00bb--Je n'imaginais pas ce qu'il voulait dire par _deux\ncanots_. \u00c0 la fin cependant je compris, non sans grande difficult\u00e9,\nqu'il fallait \u00eatre dans un grand et large bateau aussi gros que deux\npirogues.\nCette partie du discours de Vendredi me fit grand plaisir; et depuis\nlors je con\u00e7us quelque esp\u00e9rance de pouvoir trouver une fois ou autre\nl'occasion de m'\u00e9chapper de ce lieu avec l'assistance que ce pauvre\nSauvage me pr\u00eaterait.\nDurant tout le temps que Vendredi avait pass\u00e9 avec moi, depuis qu'il\navait commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 me parler et \u00e0 me comprendre, je n'avais pas n\u00e9glig\u00e9 de\njeter dans son \u00e2me le fondement des connaissances religieuses. Un jour,\nentre autres, je lui demandai Qui l'avait fait. Le pauvre gar\u00e7on ne me\ncomprit pas du tout, et pensa que je lui demandais qui \u00e9tait son p\u00e8re.\nJe donnai donc un autre tour \u00e0 ma question, et je lui demandai qui avait\nfait la mer, la terre o\u00f9 il marchait, et les montagnes et les bois. Il\nme r\u00e9pondit que c'\u00e9tait le vieillard Benamuck\u00e9e, qui vivait au-del\u00e0 de\ntout. Il ne put rien ajouter sur ce grand personnage, sinon qu'il \u00e9tait\ntr\u00e8s-vieux; beaucoup plus vieux, disait-il, que la mer ou la terre, que\nla lune ou les \u00e9toiles. Je lui demandai alors si ce vieux personnage\navait fait toutes choses, pourquoi toutes choses ne l'adoraient pas. Il\ndevint tr\u00e8s-s\u00e9rieux, et avec un air parfait d'innocence il me\nrepartit:--\u00abToute chose lui dit: \u00d4!\u00bb--Mais, repris-je, les gens qui\nmeurent dans ce pays s'en vont-ils quelque part?--\u00abOui, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il,\neux touts aller vers Benamuck\u00e9e.\u00bb--Enfin je lui demandai si ceux qu'on\nmange y vont de m\u00eame,--et il r\u00e9pondit: Oui.\nJe pris de l\u00e0 occasion de l'instruire dans la connaissance du vrai Dieu.\nJe lui dis que le grand Cr\u00e9ateur de toutes choses vit l\u00e0-haut, en lui\nd\u00e9signant du doigt le ciel; qu'il gouverne le monde avec le m\u00eame pouvoir\net la m\u00eame providence par lesquels il l'a cr\u00e9\u00e9; qu'il est tout-puissant\net peut faire tout pour nous, nous donner tout, et nous \u00f4ter tout.\nAinsi, par degr\u00e9s, je lui ouvris les yeux. Il m'\u00e9coutait avec une grande\nattention, et recevait avec plaisir la notion de J\u00e9sus-Christ--envoy\u00e9\npour nous racheter--et de notre mani\u00e8re de prier Dieu, qui peut nous\nentendre, m\u00eame dans le ciel. Il me dit un jour que si notre Dieu pouvait\nnous entendre de par-del\u00e0 le soleil, il devait \u00eatre un plus grand Dieu\nque leur Benamuck\u00e9e, qui ne vivait pas si loin, et cependant ne pouvait\nles entendre, \u00e0 moins qu'ils ne vinssent lui parler sur les grandes\nmontagnes, o\u00f9 il faisait sa demeure.\nDIEU\nJe lui demandai s'il \u00e9tait jamais all\u00e9 lui parler. Il me r\u00e9pondit que\nnon; que les jeunes gens n'y allaient jamais, que personne n'y allait\nque les vieillards, qu'il nommait leur Oowookak\u00e9e, c'est-\u00e0-dire, je me\nle fis expliquer par lui, leurs religieux ou leur clerg\u00e9, et que ces\nvieillards allaient lui dire: \u00d4!--c'est ainsi qu'il appelait faire des\npri\u00e8res;--puisque lorsqu'ils revenaient ils leur rapportaient ce que\nBenamuck\u00e9e avait dit. Je remarquai par l\u00e0 qu'il y a des fraudes pieuses\nm\u00eame parmi les plus aveugles et les plus ignorants idol\u00e2tres du monde,\net que la politique de faire une religion secr\u00e8te, afin de conserver au\nclerg\u00e9 la v\u00e9n\u00e9ration du peuple, ne se trouve pas seulement dans le\ncatholicisme, mais peut-\u00eatre dans toutes les religions de la terre,\nvoire m\u00eame celles des Sauvages les plus brutes et les plus barbares.\nJe fis mes efforts pour rendre sensible \u00e0 mon serviteur Vendredi la\nsupercherie de ces vieillards, en lui disant que leur pr\u00e9tention d'aller\nsur les montagnes pour dire \u00d4! \u00e0 leur dieu Benamuck\u00e9e \u00e9tait une\nimposture, que les paroles qu'ils lui attribuaient l'\u00e9taient bien plus\nencore, et que s'ils recevaient l\u00e0 quelques r\u00e9ponses et parlaient\nr\u00e9ellement avec quelqu'un, ce devait \u00eatre avec un mauvais esprit. Alors\nj'entrai en un long discours touchant le diable, son origine, sa\nr\u00e9bellion contre Dieu, sa haine pour les hommes, la raison de cette\nhaine, son penchant \u00e0 se faire adorer dans les parties obscures du monde\nau lieu de Dieu et comme Dieu, et la foule de stratag\u00e8mes dont il use\npour entra\u00eener le genre humain \u00e0 sa ruine, enfin l'acc\u00e8s secret qu'il se\nm\u00e9nage aupr\u00e8s de nos passions et de nos affections pour adapter ses\npi\u00e9ges si bien \u00e0 nos inclinations, qu'il nous rend nos propres\ntentateurs, et nous fait courir \u00e0 notre perte par notre propre choix.\nJe trouvai qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas aussi facile d'imprimer dans son esprit de\njustes notions sur le diable qu'il l'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de lui en donner sur\nl'existence d'un Dieu. La nature appuyait touts mes arguments pour lui\nd\u00e9montrer m\u00eame la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d'une grande cause premi\u00e8re, d'un supr\u00eame\npouvoir dominateur, d'une secr\u00e8te Providence directrice, et l'\u00e9quit\u00e9 et\nla justice du tribut d'hommages que nous devons lui payer. Mais rien de\ntout cela ne se pr\u00e9sentait dans la notion sur le malin esprit sur son\norigine, son existence, sa nature, et principalement son inclination \u00e0\nfaire le mal et \u00e0 nous entra\u00eener \u00e0 le faire aussi.--Le pauvre gar\u00e7on\nm'embarrassa un jour tellement par une question purement naturelle et\ninnocente, que je sus \u00e0 peine que lui dire. Je lui avais parl\u00e9\nlonguement du pouvoir de Dieu, de sa toute-puissance, de sa terrible\nd\u00e9testation du p\u00e9ch\u00e9, du feu d\u00e9vorant qu'il a pr\u00e9par\u00e9 pour les _ouvriers\nd'iniquit\u00e9_; enfin, nous ayant touts cr\u00e9\u00e9s, de son pouvoir de nous\nd\u00e9truire, de d\u00e9truire l'univers en un moment; et tout ce temps il\nm'avait \u00e9cout\u00e9 avec un grand s\u00e9rieux.\nVenant ensuite \u00e0 lui conter que le d\u00e9mon \u00e9tait l'ennemi de Dieu dans le\nc\u0153ur de l'homme, et qu'il usait toute sa malice et son habilet\u00e9 \u00e0\nrenverser les bons desseins de la Providence et \u00e0 ruiner le royaume de\nChrist sur la terre:--\u00abEh bien! interrompit Vendredi, vous dire Dieu est\nsi fort, si grand; est-il pas beaucoup plus fort, beaucoup plus\npuissance que le diable?\u00bb--\u00abOui, oui, dis-je, Vendredi; Dieu est plus\nfort que le diable. Dieu est au-dessus du diable, et c'est pourquoi nous\nprions Dieu de le mettre sous nos pieds, de nous rendre capables de\nr\u00e9sister \u00e0 ses tentations et d'\u00e9teindre ses aiguillons de feu.\u00bb--\u00abMais,\nreprit-il, si Dieu beaucoup plus fort, beaucoup plus puissance que le\ndiable, pourquoi Dieu pas tuer le diable pour faire lui non plus\nm\u00e9chant?\u00bb\nJe fus \u00e9trangement surpris \u00e0 cette question. Au fait, bien que je fusse\nalors un vieil homme, je n'\u00e9tais pourtant qu'un jeune docteur, n'ayant\ngu\u00e8re les qualit\u00e9s requises d'un casuiste ou d'un _r\u00e9solveur_ de\ndifficult\u00e9s. D'abord, ne sachant que dire, je fis semblant de ne pas\nl'entendre, et lui demandai ce qu'il disait. Mais il tenait trop \u00e0 une\nr\u00e9ponse pour oublier sa question, et il la r\u00e9p\u00e9ta de m\u00eame, dans son\nlangage d\u00e9cousu. J'avais eu le temps de me remettre un peu; je lui\ndis:--\u00abDieu veut le punir s\u00e9v\u00e8rement \u00e0 la fin: il le r\u00e9serve pour le\njour du jugement, o\u00f9 il sera jet\u00e9 dans l'abyme sans fond, pour demeurer\ndans le feu \u00e9ternel.\u00bb--Ceci ne satisfit pas Vendredi; il revint \u00e0 la\ncharge en r\u00e9p\u00e9tant mes paroles:--\u00abR\u00e9serv\u00e9 \u00e0 la fin! moi pas comprendre;\nmais pourquoi non tuer le diable maintenant, pourquoi pas tuer grand\nauparavant?\u00bb--\u00abTu pourrais aussi bien me demander, repartis-je, pourquoi\nDieu ne nous tuepas, toi et moi, quand nous faisons des choses m\u00e9chantes\nqui l'offensent; il nous conserve pour que nous puissions nous repentir\net puissions \u00eatre pardonn\u00e9s. Apr\u00e8s avoir r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi un moment \u00e0\ncela:--\u00abBien, bien, dit-il tr\u00e8s-affectueusement, cela est bien; ainsi\nvous, moi, diable, touts m\u00e9chants, touts pr\u00e9server, touts repentir, Dieu\npardonner touts.\u00bb--Je retombai donc encore dans une surprise extr\u00eame, et\nceci fut une preuve pour moi que bien que les simples notions de la\nnature conduisent les cr\u00e9atures raisonnables \u00e0 la connaissance de Dieu\net de l'adoration ou hommage d\u00fb \u00e0 son essence supr\u00eame comme la\ncons\u00e9quence de notre nature, cependant la divine r\u00e9v\u00e9lation seule peut\namener \u00e0 la connaissance de J\u00e9sus-Christ, et d'une r\u00e9demption op\u00e9r\u00e9e\npour nous, d'un M\u00e9diateur, d'une nouvelle alliance, et d'un Intercesseur\ndevant le tr\u00f4ne de Dieu. Une r\u00e9v\u00e9lation venant du ciel peut seule,\ndis-je, imprimer ces notions dans l'\u00e2me; par cons\u00e9quent l'\u00c9vangile de\nNotre Seigneur et Sauveur J\u00e9sus-Christ,--j'entends la parole divine,--et\nl'Esprit de Dieu promis \u00e0 son peuple pour guide et sanctificateur, sont\nles instructeurs essentiels de l'\u00e2me des hommes dans la connaissance\nsalutaire de Dieu et les voies du salut.\nJ'interrompis donc le pr\u00e9sent entretien entre moi et mon serviteur en me\nlevant \u00e0 la h\u00e2te, comme si quelque affaire subite m'e\u00fbt appel\u00e9 dehors;\net, l'envoyant alors bien loin, sous quelque pr\u00e9texte, je me mis \u00e0 prier\nDieu ardemment de me rendre capable d'instruire salutairement cet\ninfortun\u00e9 Sauvage en pr\u00e9parant par son Esprit le c\u0153ur de cette pauvre\nignorante cr\u00e9ature \u00e0 recevoir la lumi\u00e8re de l'\u00c9vangile, en la\nr\u00e9conciliant \u00e0 lui, et de me rendre capable de l'entretenir si\nefficacement de la parole divine, que ses yeux pussent \u00eatre ouverts, sa\nconscience convaincue et son \u00e2me sauv\u00e9e.--Quand il fut de retour,\nj'entrai avec lui dans une longue dissertation sur la r\u00e9demption des\nhommes par le Sauveur du monde, et sur la doctrine de l'\u00c9vangile\nannonc\u00e9e de la part du Ciel, c'est-\u00e0-dire la repentance envers Dieu et\nla foi en notre Sauveur J\u00e9sus. Je lui expliquai de mon mieux pourquoi\nnotre divin R\u00e9dempteur n'avait pas rev\u00eatu la nature des Anges, mais bien\nla race d'Abraham, et comment pour cette raison les Anges tomb\u00e9s \u00e9taient\nexclus de la R\u00e9demption, venue seulement pour les _brebis \u00e9gar\u00e9es de la\nmaison d'Isra\u00ebl_.\nIl y avait, Dieu le sait, plus de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 que de science dans toutes\nles m\u00e9thodes que je pris pour l'instruction de cette malheureuse\ncr\u00e9ature, et je dois reconna\u00eetre ce que tout autre, je pense, \u00e9prouvera\nen pareil cas, qu'en lui exposant les choses d'une fa\u00e7on \u00e9vidente, je\nm'instruisis moi-m\u00eame en plusieurs choses que j'ignorais ou que je\nn'avais pas approfondies auparavant, mais qui se pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent\nnaturellement \u00e0 mon esprit quand je me pris \u00e0 les fouiller pour\nl'enseignement de ce pauvre Sauvage. En cette occasion je mis m\u00eame \u00e0 la\nrecherche de ces choses plus de ferveur que je ne m'en \u00e9tais senti de ma\nvie. Si bien que j'aie r\u00e9ussi ou non avec cet infortun\u00e9, je n'en avais\npas moins de fortes raisons pour remercier le Ciel de me l'avoir envoy\u00e9.\nLe chagrin glissait plus l\u00e9g\u00e8rement sur moi; mon habitation devenait\nexcessivement confortable; et quand je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais que, dans cette vie\nsolitaire \u00e0 laquelle j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 condamn\u00e9, je n'avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 seulement\nconduit \u00e0 tourner mes regards vers le Ciel et \u00e0 chercher le bras qui\nm'avait exil\u00e9, mais que j'\u00e9tais devenu un instrument de la Providence\npour sauver la vie et sans doute l'\u00e2me d'un pauvre Sauvage, et pour\nl'amener \u00e0 la vraie science de la religion et de la doctrine\nchr\u00e9tiennes, afin qu'il p\u00fbt conna\u00eetre le Christ J\u00e9sus, afin qu'il p\u00fbt\nconna\u00eetre celui qui est la vie \u00e9ternelle; quand, dis-je, je\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chissais sur toutes ces choses, une joie secr\u00e8te s'\u00e9panouissait\ndans mon \u00e2me, et souvent m\u00eame je me f\u00e9licitais d'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9 en ce\nlieu, ce que j'avais tant de fois regard\u00e9 comme la plus terrible de\ntoutes les afflictions qui eussent pu m'advenir.\nDans cet esprit de reconnaissance j'achevai le reste de mon exil. Mes\nconversations avec Vendredi employaient si bien mes heures, que je\npassai les trois ann\u00e9es que nous v\u00e9c\u00fbmes l\u00e0 ensemble parfaitement et\ncompl\u00e8tement heureux, si toutefois il est une condition sublunaire qui\npuisse \u00eatre appel\u00e9e bonheur parfait. Le Sauvage \u00e9tait alors un bon\nChr\u00e9tien, un bien meilleur Chr\u00e9tien que moi; quoique, Dieu en soit b\u00e9ni!\nj'aie quelque raison d'esp\u00e9rer que nous \u00e9tions \u00e9galement p\u00e9nitents, et\ndes p\u00e9nitents consol\u00e9s et r\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e9r\u00e9s.--Nous avions la parole de Dieu \u00e0\nlire et son Esprit pour nous diriger, tout comme si nous eussions \u00e9t\u00e9 en\nAngleterre.\nJe m'appliquais constamment \u00e0 lire l'\u00c9criture et \u00e0 lui expliquer de mon\nmieux le sens de ce que je lisais; et lui, \u00e0 son tour, par ses examens\net ses questions s\u00e9rieuses, me rendait, comme je le disais\ntout-\u00e0-l'heure, un docteur bien plus habile dans la connaissance des\ndeux Testaments que je ne l'aurais jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 si j'eusse fait une\nlecture priv\u00e9e. Il est encore une chose, fruit de l'exp\u00e9rience de cette\nportion de ma vie solitaire, que je ne puis passer sous silence: oui,\nc'est un bonheur infini et inexprimable que la science de Dieu et la\ndoctrine du salut par J\u00e9sus-Christ soient si clairement expos\u00e9es dans\nles Testaments, et qu'elles soient si faciles \u00e0 \u00eatre re\u00e7ues et\nentendues, que leur simple lecture put me donner assez le sentiment de\nmon devoir pour me porter directement au grand \u0153uvre de la repentance\nsinc\u00e8re de mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s, et pour me porter, en m'attachant \u00e0 un Sauveur,\nsource de vie et de salut, \u00e0 pratiquer une r\u00e9forme et \u00e0 me soumettre \u00e0\ntouts les commandements de Dieu, et cela sans aucun ma\u00eetre o\u00f9\npr\u00e9cepteur, j'entends humain. Cette simple instruction se trouva de m\u00eame\nsuffisante pour \u00e9clairer mon pauvre Sauvage et pour en faire un Chr\u00e9tien\ntel, que de ma vie j'en ai peu connu qui le valussent.\nQuant aux disputes, aux controverses, aux pointilleries, aux\ncontestations qui furent soulev\u00e9es dans le monde touchant la religion,\nsoit subtilit\u00e9s de doctrine, soit projets de gouvernement\neccl\u00e9siastique, elles \u00e9taient pour nous tout-\u00e0-fait chose vaine, comme,\nautant que j'en puis juger, elles l'ont \u00e9t\u00e9 pour le reste du genre\nhumain. Nous \u00e9tions s\u00fbrement guid\u00e9s vers le Ciel par les \u00c9critures; et\nnous \u00e9tions \u00e9clair\u00e9s par l'Esprit consolateur de Dieu, nous enseignant\net nous instruisant par sa parole, nous conduisant \u00e0 toute v\u00e9rit\u00e9 et\nnous rendant l'un et l'autre soumis et ob\u00e9issants aux enseignements de\nsa loi. Je ne vois pas que nous aurions pu faire le moindre usage de la\nconnaissance la plus approfondie des points disput\u00e9s en religion qui\nr\u00e9pandirent tant de troubles sur la terre, quand bien m\u00eame nous eussions\npu y parvenir.--Mais il me faut reprendre le fil de mon histoire, et\nsuivre chaque chose dans son ordre.\nApr\u00e8s que Vendredi et moi e\u00fbmes fait une plus intime connaissance,\nlorsqu'il put comprendre presque tout ce que je lui disais et parler\ncouramment, quoiqu'en mauvais anglais, je lui fis le r\u00e9cit de mes\naventures ou de celles qui se rattachaient \u00e0 ma venue dans l'\u00eele;\ncomment j'y avais v\u00e9cu et depuis combien de temps. Je l'initiai au\nmyst\u00e8re,--car c'en \u00e9tait un pour lui,--de la poudre et des balles, et je\nlui appris \u00e0 tirer. Je lui donnai un couteau, ce qui lui fit un plaisir\nextr\u00eame; et je lui ajustai un ceinturon avec un fourreau suspendu,\nsemblable \u00e0 ceux o\u00f9 l'on porte en Angleterre les couteaux de chasse;\nmais dans la gaine, au lieu de coutelas, je mis une hachette, qui\nnon-seulement \u00e9tait une bonne arme en quelques occasions, mais une arme\nbeaucoup plus utile dans une foule d'autres.\nHOMMES BARBUS AU PAYS DE VENDREDI\nJe lui fis une description des contr\u00e9es de l'Europe, et particuli\u00e8rement\nde l'Angleterre, ma patrie. Je lui contai comment nous vivions, comment\nnous adorions Dieu, comment nous nous conduisions les uns envers les\nautres, et comment, dans des vaisseaux, nous trafiquions avec toutes les\nparties du monde. Je lui donnai une id\u00e9e du b\u00e2timent naufrag\u00e9 \u00e0 bord\nduquel j'\u00e9tais all\u00e9, et lui montrai d'aussi pr\u00e8s que je pus la place o\u00f9\nil avait \u00e9chou\u00e9; mais depuis long-temps il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mis en pi\u00e8ces et\navait enti\u00e8rement disparu.\nJe lui montrai aussi les d\u00e9bris de notre chaloupe, que nous perd\u00eemes\nquand nous nous sauv\u00e2mes de notre bord, et qu'avec touts mes efforts, je\nn'avais jamais pu remuer; mais elle \u00e9tait alors presque enti\u00e8rement\nd\u00e9labr\u00e9e. En appercevant cette embarcation, Vendredi demeura fort\nlong-temps pensif et sans prof\u00e9rer un seul mot. Je lui demandai ce \u00e0\nquoi il songeait; enfin il me dit: \u00abMoi voir pareil bateau ainsi venir\nau lieu \u00e0 ma nation.\u00bb\nJe fus long-temps sans deviner ce que cela signifiait; mais \u00e0 la fin, en\ny r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissant bien, je compris qu'une chaloupe pareille avait d\u00e9riv\u00e9\nsur le rivage qu'il habitait, c'est-\u00e0-dire, comme il me l'expliqua, y\navait \u00e9t\u00e9 entra\u00een\u00e9e par une temp\u00eate. Aussit\u00f4t j'imaginai que quelque\nvaisseau europ\u00e9en devait avoir fait naufrage sur cette c\u00f4te, et que sa\nchaloupe, s'\u00e9tant sans doute d\u00e9tach\u00e9e, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9e \u00e0 terre; mais je\nfus si stupide que je ne songeai pas une seule fois \u00e0 des hommes\ns'\u00e9chappant d'un naufrage, et ne m'informai pas d'o\u00f9 ces embarcations\npouvaient venir. Tout ce que je demandai, ce fut la description de ce\nbateau.\nVendredi me le d\u00e9crivit assez bien, mais il me mit beaucoup mieux \u00e0 m\u00eame\nde le comprendre lorsqu'il ajouta avec chaleur:--\u00abNous sauver hommes\nblancs de noyer.\u00bb--Il y avait donc, lui dis-je, des hommes blancs dans\nle bateau?\u00bb--\u00abOui, r\u00e9pondit-il, le bateau plein d'hommes blancs.\u00bb--Je le\nquestionnai sur leur nombre; il compta sur ses doigts jusqu'\u00e0\ndix-sept.--\u00abMais, repris-je alors, que sont-ils devenus?\u00bb--\u00abIls vivent,\nils demeurent chez ma nation.\u00bb\nCe r\u00e9cit me mit en t\u00eate de nouvelles pens\u00e9es: j'imaginai aussit\u00f4t que ce\npouvaient \u00eatre les hommes appartenant au vaisseau \u00e9chou\u00e9 en vue de mon\n\u00eele, comme je l'appelais alors; que ces gens, apr\u00e8s que le b\u00e2timent eut\ndonn\u00e9 contre le rocher, le croyant in\u00e9vitablement perdu, s'\u00e9taient jet\u00e9s\ndans leur chaloupe et avaient abord\u00e9 \u00e0 cette terre barbare parmi les\nSauvages.\nSur ce, je m'enquis plus curieusement de ce que ces hommes \u00e9taient\ndevenus. Il m'assura qu'ils vivaient encore, qu'il y avait quatre ans\nqu'ils \u00e9taient l\u00e0, que les Sauvages les laissaient tranquilles et leur\ndonnaient de quoi manger. Je lui demandai comment il se faisait qu'ils\nn'eussent point \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s et mang\u00e9s:--\u00abNon, me dit-il, eux faire fr\u00e8re\navec eux\u00bb--C'est-\u00e0-dire, comme je le compris, qu'ils avaient fraternis\u00e9.\nPuis il ajouta:--\u00abEux manger non hommes que quand la guerre fait\nbattre,\u00bb--c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'ils ne mangent aucun homme qui ne se soit\nbattu contre eux et n'ait \u00e9t\u00e9 fait prisonnier de guerre.\nIl arriva, assez long-temps apr\u00e8s ceci, que, se trouvant sur le sommet\nde la colline, \u00e0 l'Est de l'\u00eele, d'o\u00f9, comme je l'ai narr\u00e9, j'avais dans\nun jour serein d\u00e9couvert le continent de l'Am\u00e9rique, il arriva, dis-je,\nque Vendredi, le temps \u00e9tant fort clair, regarda fixement du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la\nterre ferme, puis, dans une sorte d'\u00e9bahissement, qu'il se prit \u00e0\nsauter, et \u00e0 danser, et \u00e0 m'appeler, car j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 quelque distance. Je\nlui en demandai le sujet:--\u00ab\u00d4 joie! \u00f4 joyeux! s'\u00e9criait-il, l\u00e0 voir mon\npays, l\u00e0 ma nation!\nJe remarquai un sentiment de plaisir extraordinaire \u00e9panoui sur sa face;\nses yeux \u00e9tincelaient, sa contenance trahissait une \u00e9trange passion,\ncomme s'il e\u00fbt eu un d\u00e9sir v\u00e9h\u00e9ment de retourner dans sa patrie. Cet\nair, cette expression \u00e9veilla en moi une multitude de pens\u00e9es qui me\nlaiss\u00e8rent moins tranquille que je l'\u00e9tais auparavant sur le compte de\nmon nouveau serviteur Vendredi; et je ne mis pas en doute que si jamais\nil pouvait retourner chez sa propre nation, non-seulement il oublierait\ntoute sa religion, mais toutes les obligations qu'il m'avait, et qu'il\nne f\u00fbt assez perfide pour donner des renseignements sur moi \u00e0 ses\ncompatriotes, et revenir peut-\u00eatre, avec quelques centaines des siens,\npour faire de moi un festin auquel il assisterait aussi joyeux qu'il\navait eu pour habitude de l'\u00eatre aux festins de ses ennemis faits\nprisonniers de guerre.\nMais je faisais une violente injustice \u00e0 cette pauvre et honn\u00eate\ncr\u00e9ature, ce dont je fus tr\u00e8s-chagrin par la suite. Cependant, comme ma\nd\u00e9fiance s'accrut et me poss\u00e9da pendant quelques semaines, je devins\nplus circonspect, moins familier et moins affable avec lui; en quoi\naussi j'eus assur\u00e9ment tort: l'honn\u00eate et agr\u00e9able gar\u00e7on n'avait pas\nune seule pens\u00e9e qui ne d\u00e9coul\u00e2t des meilleurs principes, tout \u00e0 la fois\ncomme un Chr\u00e9tien religieux et comme un ami reconnaissant, ainsi que\nplus tard je m'en convainquis, \u00e0 ma grande satisfaction.\nTant que dur\u00e8rent mes soup\u00e7ons on peut bien \u00eatre s\u00fbr que chaque jour je\nle sondai pour voir si je ne d\u00e9couvrirais pas quelques-unes des\nnouvelles id\u00e9es que je lui supposais; mais je trouvai dans tout ce qu'il\ndisait tant de candeur et d'honn\u00eatet\u00e9 que je ne pus nourrir long-temps\nma d\u00e9fiance; et que, mettant de c\u00f4t\u00e9 toute inqui\u00e9tude, je m'abandonnai\nde nouveau enti\u00e8rement \u00e0 lui. Il ne s'\u00e9tait seulement pas apper\u00e7u de mon\ntrouble; c'est pourquoi je ne saurais le soup\u00e7onner de fourberie.\nUn jour que je me promenais sur la m\u00eame colline et que le temps \u00e9tait\nbrumeux en mer, de sorte qu'on ne pouvait appercevoir le continent,\nj'appelai Vendredi et lui dis:--\u00abNe d\u00e9sirerais-tu pas retourner dans ton\npays, chez ta propre nation?\u00bb--\u00abOui, dit-il, moi \u00eatre beaucoup \u00d4 joyeux\nd'\u00eatre dans ma propre nation.\u00bb--\u00abQu'y ferais-tu? repris-je: voudrais-tu\nredevenir barbare, manger de la chair humaine et retomber dans l'\u00e9tat\nsauvage o\u00f9 tu \u00e9tais auparavant?\u00bb--Il prit un air chagrin, et, secouant\nla t\u00eate, il r\u00e9pondit:--\u00abNon, non, Vendredi leur conter vivre bon, leur\nconter prier Dieu, leur conter manger pain de bl\u00e9, chair de troupeau,\nlait; non plus manger hommes.\u00bb--\u00abAlors ils te tueront.\u00bb--\u00c0 ce mot il\ndevint s\u00e9rieux, et r\u00e9pliqua:--\u00abNon, eux pas tuer moi, eux volontiers\naimer apprendre.\u00bb--Il entendait par l\u00e0 qu'ils \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s-port\u00e9s \u00e0\ns'instruire. Puis il ajouta qu'ils avaient appris beaucoup de choses des\nhommes barbus qui \u00e9taient venus dans le bateau. Je lui demandai alors\ns'il voudrait s'en retourner; il sourit \u00e0 cette question, et me dit\nqu'il ne pourrait pas nager si loin. Je lui promis de lui faire un\ncanot. Il me dit alors qu'il irait si j'allais avec lui:--\u00abMoi partir\navec toi! m'\u00e9criai-je; mais ils me mangeront si j'y vais.\u00bb--\u00abNon, non,\nmoi faire eux non manger vous, moi faire eux beaucoup aimer vous.\u00bb--Il\nentendait par l\u00e0 qu'il leur raconterait comment j'avais tu\u00e9 ses ennemis\net sauv\u00e9 sa vie, et qu'il me gagnerait ainsi leur affection. Alors il me\nnarra de son mieux combien ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bons envers les dix-sept\nhommes blancs ou barbus, comme il les appelait, qui avaient abord\u00e9 \u00e0\nleur rivage dans la d\u00e9tresse.\nD\u00e8s ce moment, je l'avoue, je con\u00e7us l'envie de m'aventurer en mer, pour\ntenter s'il m'\u00e9tait possible de joindre ces hommes barbus, qui devaient\n\u00eatre, selon moi, des Espagnols ou des Portugais, ne doutant pas, si je\nr\u00e9ussissais, qu'\u00e9tant sur le continent et en nombreuse compagnie, je ne\npusse trouver quelque moyen de m'\u00e9chapper de l\u00e0 plut\u00f4t que d'une \u00eele\n\u00e9loign\u00e9e de quarante milles de la c\u00f4te, et o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais seul et sans\nsecours. Quelques jours apr\u00e8s je sondai de nouveau Vendredi, par mani\u00e8re\nde conversation, et je lui dis que je voulais lui donner un bateau pour\nretourner chez sa nation. Je le menai par cons\u00e9quent vers ma petite\nfr\u00e9gate, amarr\u00e9e de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'\u00eele; puis, l'ayant vid\u00e9e,--car je\nla tenais toujours enfonc\u00e9e sous l'eau,--je la mis \u00e0 flot, je la lui fis\nvoir, et nous y entr\u00e2mes touts les deux.\nJe vis que c'\u00e9tait un compagnon fort adroit \u00e0 la man\u0153uvre: il la faisait\ncourir aussi rapidement et plus habilement que je ne l'eusse pu faire.\nTandis que nous voguions, je lui dis:--\u00abEh bien! maintenant, Vendredi,\nirons-nous chez ta nation?\u00bb--\u00c0 ces mots il resta tout stup\u00e9fait, sans\ndoute parce que cette embarcation lui paraissait trop petite pour aller\nsi loin. Je lui dis alors que j'enavais une plus grande. Le lendemain\ndonc je le conduisis au lieu o\u00f9 gisait la premi\u00e8re pirogue que j'avais\nfaite, mais que je n'avais pu mettre \u00e0 la mer. Il la trouva suffisamment\ngrande; mais, comme je n'en avais pris aucun soin, qu'elle \u00e9tait couch\u00e9e\nl\u00e0 depuis vingt-deux ou vingt-trois ans, et que le soleil l'avait fendue\net s\u00e9ch\u00e9e, elle \u00e9tait pourrie en quelque sorte. Vendredi m'affirma qu'un\nbateau semblable ferait l'affaire, et transporterait--beaucoup assez\nvivres, boire, pain:--c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 sa mani\u00e8re de parler.\nEn somme, je fus alors si affermi dans ma r\u00e9solution de gagner avec lui\nle continent, que je lui dis qu'il fallait nous mettre \u00e0 en faire une de\ncette grandeur-l\u00e0 pour qu'il p\u00fbt s'en retourner chez lui. Il ne r\u00e9pliqua\npas un mot, mais il devint s\u00e9rieux et triste. Je lui demandai ce qu'il\navait. Il me r\u00e9pondit ainsi:--\u00abPourquoi vous col\u00e8re avec Vendredi? Quoi\nmoi fait?\u00bb--Je le priai de s'expliquer et lui protestai que je n'\u00e9tais\npoint du tout en col\u00e8re.--\u00abPas col\u00e8re! pas col\u00e8re! reprit-il en r\u00e9p\u00e9tant\nces mots plusieurs fois; pourquoi envoyer Vendredi loin chez ma\nnation?\u00bb--\u00abPourquoi!... Mais ne m'as-tu pas dit que tu souhaitais y\nretourner?\u00bb--\u00abOui, oui, s'\u00e9cria-t-il, souhaiter \u00eatre touts deux l\u00e0:\nVendredi l\u00e0 et pas ma\u00eetre l\u00e0.\u00bb--En un mot il ne pouvait se faire \u00e0\nl'id\u00e9e de partir sans moi.--\u00abMoi aller avec toi, Vendredi! m'\u00e9criai-je;\nmais que ferais-je l\u00e0?\u00bb--Il me r\u00e9pliqua tr\u00e8s-vivement l\u00e0-dessus:--\u00abVous\nfaire grande quantit\u00e9 beaucoup bien, vous apprendre Sauvages hommes \u00eatre\nhommes bons, hommes sages, hommes apprivois\u00e9s; vous leur enseigner\nconna\u00eetre Dieu, prier Dieu et vivre nouvelle vie.\u00bb--\u00abH\u00e9las! Vendredi,\nr\u00e9pondis-je, tu ne sais ce que tu dis, je ne suis moi-m\u00eame qu'un\nignorant.\u00bb--\u00abOui, oui, reprit-il, vous enseigna moi bien, vous enseigner\neux bien.\u00bb--\u00abNon, non, Vendredi, te dis-je, tu partiras sans moi;\nlaisse-moi vivre ici tout seul comme autrefois.\u00bb--\u00c0 ces paroles il\nretomba dans le trouble, et, courant \u00e0 une des hachettes qu'il avait\ncoutume de porter, il s'en saisit \u00e0 la h\u00e2te et me la donna.--\u00abQue\nfaut-il que j'en fasse, lui dis-je?\u00bb--\u00abVous prendre, vous tuer\nVendredi.\u00bb--\u00abMoi te tuer! Et pourquoi?\u00bb--\u00abPourquoi, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il\nprestement, vous envoyer Vendredi loin?... Prendre, tuer Vendredi, pas\nrenvoyer Vendredi loin.\u00bb--Il pronon\u00e7a ces paroles avec tant de\ncomponction, que je vis ses yeux se mouiller de larmes. En un mot, je\nd\u00e9couvris clairement en lui une si profonde affection pour moi et une si\nferme r\u00e9solution, que je lui dis alors, et souvent depuis, que je ne\nl'\u00e9loignerais jamais tant qu'il voudrait rester avec moi.\nSomme toute, de m\u00eame que par touts ses discours je d\u00e9couvris en lui une\naffection si solide pour moi, que rien ne pourrait l'en s\u00e9parer, de m\u00eame\nje d\u00e9couvris que tout son d\u00e9sir de retourner dans sa patrie avait sa\nsource dans sa vive affection pour ses compatriotes, et dans son\nesp\u00e9rance que je les rendrais bons, chose que, vu mon peu de science, je\nn'avais pas le moindre d\u00e9sir, la moindre intention ou envie\nd'entreprendre. Mais je me sentais toujours fortement entra\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0 faire\nune tentative de d\u00e9livrance, comme pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, fond\u00e9e sur la\nsupposition d\u00e9duite du premier entretien, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'il y avait l\u00e0\ndix-sept hommes barbus; et c'est pourquoi, sans plus de d\u00e9lai, je me mis\nen campagne avec Vendredi pour chercher un gros arbre propre \u00e0 \u00eatre\nabattu et \u00e0 faire une grande pirogue ou canot pour l'ex\u00e9cution de mon\nprojet. Il y avait dans l'\u00eele assez d'arbres pour construire une\nflottille, non-seulement de pirogues ou de canots, mais m\u00eame de bons\ngros vaisseaux. La principale condition \u00e0 laquelle je tenais, c'\u00e9tait\nqu'il f\u00fbt dans le voisinage de la mer, afin que nous pussions lancer\nnotre embarcation quand elle serait faite, et \u00e9viter la b\u00e9vue que\nj'avais commise la premi\u00e8re fois.\nCHANTIER DE CONSTRUCTION\n\u00c0 la fin Vendredi en choisit un, car il connaissait mieux que moi quelle\nsorte de bois \u00e9tait la plus convenable pour notre dessein; je ne saurais\nm\u00eame aujourd'hui comment nommer l'arbre que nous abatt\u00eemes, je sais\nseulement qu'il ressemblait beaucoup \u00e0 celui qu'on appelle _fustok_ et\nqu'il \u00e9tait d'un genre interm\u00e9diaire entre celui-l\u00e0 et le bois de\nNicaragua, duquel il tenait beaucoup pour la couleur et l'odeur.\nVendredi se proposait de br\u00fbler l'int\u00e9rieur de cet arbre pour en faire\nun bateau; mais je lui d\u00e9montrai qu'il valait mieux le creuser avec des\noutils, ce qu'il fit tr\u00e8s-adroitement, apr\u00e8s que je lui en eus enseign\u00e9\nla mani\u00e8re. Au bout d'un mois de rude travail, nous achev\u00e2mes notre\npirogue, qui se trouva fort \u00e9l\u00e9gante, surtout lorsque avec nos haches,\nque je lui avais appris \u00e0 manier, nous e\u00fbmes fa\u00e7onn\u00e9 et aviv\u00e9 son\next\u00e9rieur en forme d'esquif. Apr\u00e8s ceci toutefois, elle nous co\u00fbta\nencore pr\u00e8s d'une quinzaine de jours pour l'amener jusqu'\u00e0 l'eau, en\nquelque sorte pouce \u00e0 pouce, au moyen de grands rouleaux de bois.--Elle\naurait pu porter vingt hommes tr\u00e8s-ais\u00e9ment.\nLorsqu'elle fut mise \u00e0 flot, je fus \u00e9merveill\u00e9 de voir, malgr\u00e9 sa\ngrandeur, avec quelle dext\u00e9rit\u00e9 et quelle rapidit\u00e9 mon serviteur\nVendredi savait la manier, la faire virer et avancer \u00e0 la pagaie. Je lui\ndemandai alors si elle pouvait aller, et si nous pouvions nous y\naventurer.--\u00abOui, r\u00e9pondit-il, elle aventurer dedans tr\u00e8s-bien, quand\nm\u00eame grand souffler vent.\u00bb--Cependant j'avais encore un projet qu'il ne\nconnaissait point, c'\u00e9tait de faire un m\u00e2t et une voile, et de garnir ma\npirogue d'une ancre et d'un c\u00e2ble. Pour le m\u00e2t, ce fut chose assez\nais\u00e9e. Je choisis un jeune c\u00e8dre fort droit que je trouvai pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0,\ncar il y en avait une grande quantit\u00e9 dans l'\u00eele, je chargeai Vendredi\nde l'abattre et lui montrai comment s'y prendre pour le fa\u00e7onner et\nl'ajuster. Quant \u00e0 la voile, ce fut mon affaire particuli\u00e8re. Je savais\nque je poss\u00e9dais pas mal de vieilles voiles ou plut\u00f4t de morceaux de\nvieilles voiles; mais, comme il y avait vingt-six ans que je les avais\nmises de c\u00f4t\u00e9; et que j'avais pris peu de soin pour leur conservation,\nn'imaginant pas que je pusse jamais avoir occasion de les employer \u00e0 un\nsemblable usage, je ne doutai pas qu'elles ne fussent toutes pourries,\net au fait la plupart l'\u00e9taient. Pourtant j'en trouvai deux morceaux qui\nme parurent assez bons; je me mis \u00e0 les travailler; et, apr\u00e8s beaucoup\nde peines, cousant gauchement et lentement, comme on peut le croire, car\nje n'avais point d'aiguilles, je parvins enfin \u00e0 faire une vilaine chose\ntriangulaire ressemblant \u00e0 ce qu'on appelle en Angleterre une voile en\n_\u00e9paule de mouton,_ qui se dressait avec un gui au bas et un petit pic\nau sommet. Les chaloupes de nos navires cinglent d'ordinaire avec une\nvoile pareille, et c'\u00e9tait celle dont je connaissais le mieux la\nman\u0153uvre, parce que la barque dans laquelle je m'\u00e9tais \u00e9chapp\u00e9 de\nBarbarie en avait une, comme je l'ai relat\u00e9 dans la premi\u00e8re partie de\nmon histoire.\nJe fus pr\u00e8s de deux mois \u00e0 terminer ce dernier ouvrage, c'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0\ngr\u00e9er et ajuster mon m\u00e2t et mes voiles. Pour compl\u00e9ter ce gr\u00e9ement,\nj'\u00e9tablis un petit \u00e9tai sur lequel j'adaptai une trinquette pour m'aider\n\u00e0 pincer le vent, et, qui plus est, je fixai \u00e0 la poupe un gouvernail.\nQuoique je fusse un d\u00e9testable constructeur, cependant comme je sentais\nl'utilit\u00e9 et m\u00eame la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d'une telle chose, bravant la peine, j'y\ntravaillai avec tant d'application qu'enfin j'en vins \u00e0 bout; mais, en\nconsid\u00e9rant la quantit\u00e9 des tristes inventions auxquelles j'eus recours\net qui \u00e9chou\u00e8rent, je suis port\u00e9 \u00e0 croire que ce gouvernail me co\u00fbta\nautant de labeur que le bateau tout entier.\nApr\u00e8s que tout ceci fut achev\u00e9, j'eus \u00e0 enseigner \u00e0 mon serviteur\nVendredi tout ce qui avait rapport \u00e0 la navigation de mon esquif; car,\nbien qu'il s\u00fbt parfaitement pagayer, il n'entendait rien \u00e0 la man\u0153uvre\nde la voile et du gouvernail, et il fut on ne peut plus \u00e9merveill\u00e9 quand\nil me vit diriger et faire virer ma pirogue au moyen de la barre, et\nquand il vit ma voile tr\u00e9lucher et s'\u00e9venter, tant\u00f4t d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9, tant\u00f4t\nde l'autre, suivant que la direction de notre course changeait; alors,\ndis-je, il demeura l\u00e0 comme un \u00e9tonn\u00e9, comme un \u00e9bahi. N\u00e9anmoins en peu\nde temps je lui rendis toutes ces choses famili\u00e8res, et il devint un\nnavigateur consomm\u00e9, sauf l'usage de la boussole, que je ne pus lui\nfaire comprendre que fort peu. Mais, comme dans ces climats il est rare\nd'avoir un temps couvert et que presque jamais il n'y a de brumes, la\nboussole n'y est pas de grande n\u00e9cessit\u00e9. Les \u00e9toiles sont toujours\nvisibles pendant la nuit, et la terre pendant le jour, except\u00e9 dans les\nsaisons pluvieuses; mais alors personne ne se soucie d'aller au loin ni\nsur terre, ni sur mer.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors entr\u00e9 dans la vingt-septi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e de ma Captivit\u00e9 dans\ncette \u00eele, quoique les trois derni\u00e8res ann\u00e9es o\u00f9 j'avais eu avec moi mon\nserviteur Vendredi ne puissent gu\u00e8re faire partie de ce compte, ma vie\nd'alors \u00e9tant totalement diff\u00e9rente de ce qu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 durant tout\nle reste de mon s\u00e9jour. Je c\u00e9l\u00e9brai l'anniversaire de mon arriv\u00e9e en ce\nlieu toujours avec la m\u00eame reconnaissance envers Dieu pour ses\nmis\u00e9ricordes; si jadis j'avais eu sujet d'\u00eatre reconnaissant, j'avais\nencore beaucoup plus sujet de l'\u00eatre, la Providence m'ayant donn\u00e9 tant\nde nouveaux t\u00e9moignages de sollicitude, et envoy\u00e9 l'espoir d'une prompte\net s\u00fbre d\u00e9livrance, car j'avais dans l'\u00e2me l'in\u00e9branlable persuasion que\nma d\u00e9livrance \u00e9tait proche et que je ne saurais \u00eatre un an de plus dans\nl'\u00eele. Cependant je ne n\u00e9gligeai pas mes cultures; comme \u00e0 l'ordinaire\nje b\u00eachai, je semai, je fis des enclos; je recueillis et s\u00e9chai mes\nraisins, et m'occupai de toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires, de m\u00eame\nqu'auparavant.\nLa saison des pluies, qui m'obligeait \u00e0 garder la maison plus que de\ncoutume, \u00e9tant alors revenue, j'avais donc mis notre vaisseau aussi en\ns\u00fbret\u00e9 que possible, en l'amenant dans la crique o\u00f9, comme je l'ai dit\nau commencement, j'abordai avec mes radeaux. L'ayant hal\u00e9 sur le rivage\npendant la mar\u00e9e haute, je fis creuser \u00e0 mon serviteur Vendredi un petit\nbassin tout juste assez grand pour qu'il p\u00fbt s'y tenir \u00e0 flot; puis, \u00e0\nla mar\u00e9e basse, nous f\u00eemes une forte \u00e9cluse \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 pour emp\u00eacher\nl'eau d'y rentrer: ainsi notre vaisseau demeura \u00e0 sec et \u00e0 l'abri du\nretour de la mar\u00e9e. Pour le garantir de la pluie, nous le couvr\u00eemes\nd'une couche de branches d'arbres si \u00e9paisse, qu'il \u00e9tait aussi bien\nqu'une maison sous son toit de chaume. Nous attend\u00eemes ainsi les mois de\nnovembre et de d\u00e9cembre, que j'avais d\u00e9sign\u00e9s pour l'ex\u00e9cution de mon\nentreprise.\nQuand la saison favorable s'approcha, comme la pens\u00e9e de mon dessein\nrenaissait avec le beau temps, je m'occupai journellement \u00e0 pr\u00e9parer\ntout pour le voyage. La premi\u00e8re chose que je fis, ce fut d'amasser une\ncertaine quantit\u00e9 de provisions qui devaient nous \u00eatre n\u00e9cessaires. Je\nme proposais, dans une semaine ou deux, d'ouvrir le bassin et de lancer\nnotre bateau, quand un matin que j'\u00e9tais occup\u00e9 \u00e0 quelqu'un de ces\nappr\u00eats, j'appelai Vendredi et lui dis d'aller au bord de la mer pour\nvoir s'il ne trouverait pas quelque ch\u00e9lone ou tortue, chose que nous\nfaisions habituellement une fois par semaine; nous \u00e9tions aussi friands\ndes \u0153ufs que de la chair de cet animal. Vendredi n'\u00e9tait parti que\ndepuis peu de temps quand je le vis revenir en courant et franchir ma\nfortification ext\u00e9rieure comme si ses pieds ne touchaient pas la terre,\net, avant que j'eusse eu le temps de lui parler, il me cria:--\u00ab\u00d4 ma\u00eetre!\n\u00f4 ma\u00eetre! \u00f4 chagrin! \u00f4 mauvais!\u00bb--\u00abQu'y a-t-il, Vendredi? lui\ndis-je.\u00bb--\u00abOh! L\u00e0-bas un, deux, trois canots! un, deux, trois!\u00bb--Je\nconclus, d'apr\u00e8s sa mani\u00e8re de s'exprimer, qu'il y en avait six; mais,\napr\u00e8s que je m'en fus enquis, je n'en trouvai que trois,--\u00abEh bien!\nVendredi, lui dis-je, ne t'effraie pas.\u00bb--Je le rassurai ainsi autant\nque je pus; n\u00e9anmoins je m'apper\u00e7us que le pauvre gar\u00e7on \u00e9tait\ntout-\u00e0-fait hors de lui-m\u00eame: il s'\u00e9tait fourr\u00e9 en t\u00eate que les Sauvages\n\u00e9taient venus tout expr\u00e8s pour le chercher, le mettre en pi\u00e8ces et le\nd\u00e9vorer. Il tremblait si fort que je ne savais que faire. Je le\nr\u00e9confortai de mon mieux, et lui dis que j'\u00e9tais dans un aussi grand\ndanger, et qu'ils me mangeraient tout comme lui.--\u00abMais il faut,\najoutai-je, nous r\u00e9soudre \u00e0 les combattre; peux-tu combattre,\nVendredi?\u00bb--\u00abMoi tirer, dit-il, mais l\u00e0 venir beaucoup grand\nnombre.\u00bb--\u00abQu'importe! r\u00e9pondis-je, nos fusils \u00e9pouvanteront ceux qu'ils\nne tueront pas.\u00bb--Je lui demandai si, me d\u00e9terminant \u00e0 le d\u00e9fendre, il\nme d\u00e9fendrait aussi et voudrait se tenir aupr\u00e8s de moi et faire tout ce\nque je lui enjoindrais. Il r\u00e9pondit:--\u00abMoi mourir quand vous commander\nmourir, ma\u00eetre.\u00bb L\u00e0-dessus j'allai chercher une bonne goutte de _rum_ et\nla lui donnai, car j'avais si bien m\u00e9nag\u00e9 mon _rum_ que j'en avais\nencore pas mal en r\u00e9serve. Quand il eut bu, je lui fis prendre les deux\nfusils de chasse que nous portions toujours, et je les chargeai de\nchevrotines aussi grosses que des petites balles de pistolet; je pris\nensuite quatre mousquets, je les chargeai chacun de deux lingots et de\ncinq balles, puis chacun de mes deux pistolets d'une paire de balles\nseulement. Je pendis comme \u00e0 l'ordinaire, mon grand sabre nu \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9,\net je donnai \u00e0 Vendredi sa hachette.\nQuand je me fus ainsi pr\u00e9par\u00e9, je pris ma lunette d'approche et je\ngravis sur le versant de la montagne, pour voir ce que je pourrais\nd\u00e9couvrir; j'apper\u00e7us aussit\u00f4t par ma longue vue qu'il y avait l\u00e0\nvingt-un Sauvages, trois prisonniers et trois pirogues, et que leur\nunique affaire semblait \u00eatre de faire un banquet triomphal de ces trois\ncorps humains, f\u00eate barbare, il est vrai, mais, comme je l'ai observ\u00e9,\nqui n'avait rien parmi eux que d'ordinaire.\nJe remarquai aussi qu'ils \u00e9taient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s non dans le m\u00eame endroit\nd'o\u00f9 Vendredi s'\u00e9tait \u00e9chapp\u00e9, mais plus pr\u00e8s de ma crique, o\u00f9 le rivage\n\u00e9tait bas et o\u00f9 un bois \u00e9pais s'\u00e9tendait presque jusqu'\u00e0 la mer. Cette\nobservation et l'horreur que m'inspirait l'\u0153uvre atroce que ces\nmis\u00e9rables venaient consommer me remplirent de tant d'indignation que je\nretournai vers Vendredi, et lui dis que j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu \u00e0 fondre sur eux\net \u00e0 les tuer touts. Puis je lui demandai s'il voulait combattre \u00e0 mes\nc\u00f4t\u00e9s. Sa frayeur \u00e9tant dissip\u00e9e et ses esprits \u00e9tant un peu anim\u00e9s par\nle _rum_ que je lui avais donn\u00e9, il me parut plein de courage, et r\u00e9p\u00e9ta\ncomme auparavant qu'il mourrait quand je lui ordonnerais de mourir.\nDans cet acc\u00e8s de fureur, je pris et r\u00e9partis entre nous les armes que\nje venais de charger. Je donnai \u00e0 Vendredi un pistolet pour mettre \u00e0 sa\nceinture et trois mousquets pour porter sur l'\u00e9paule, je pris moi-m\u00eame\nun pistolet et les trois autres mousquets, et dans cet \u00e9quipage nous\nnous m\u00eemes en marche. J'avais eu outre garni ma poche d'une, petite\nbouteille de _rum,_ et charg\u00e9 Vendredi d'un grand sac et de balles.\nQuant \u00e0 la consigne, je lui enjoignis de se tenir sur mes pas, de ne\npoint bouger, de ne point tirer, de ne faire aucune chose que je ne lui\neusse command\u00e9e, et en m\u00eame temps de ne pas souffler mot. Je fis alors \u00e0\nma droite un circuit de pr\u00e8s d'un mille, pour \u00e9viter la crique et gagner\nle bois, afin de pouvoir arriver \u00e0 port\u00e9e de fusil des Sauvages avant\nqu'ils me d\u00e9couvrissent, ce que, par ma longue vue, j'avais reconnu\nchose facile \u00e0 faire.\nPendant cette marche mes premi\u00e8res id\u00e9es se r\u00e9veill\u00e8rent et commenc\u00e8rent\n\u00e0 \u00e9branler ma r\u00e9solution. Je ne veux pas dire que j'eusse aucune peur de\nleur nombre; comme ils n'\u00e9taient que des mis\u00e9rables nus et sans armes,\nil est certain que je leur \u00e9tais sup\u00e9rieur, et quand bien m\u00eame j'aurais\n\u00e9t\u00e9 seul. Mais quel motif, me disais-je, quelle circonstance, quelle\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 m'oblige \u00e0 tremper mes mains dans le sang, \u00e0 attaquer des\nhommes qui ne m'ont jamais fait aucun tort et qui n'ont nulle intention\nde m'en faire, des hommes innocents \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard? Leur coutume barbare\nest leur propre malheur; c'est la preuve que Dieu les a abandonn\u00e9s aussi\nbien que les autres nations de cette partie du monde \u00e0 leur stupidit\u00e9, \u00e0\nleur inhumanit\u00e9, mais non pas qu'il m'appelle \u00e0 \u00eatre le juge de leurs\nactions, encore moins l'ex\u00e9cuteur de sa justice! Quand il le trouvera\nbon il prendra leur cause dans ses mains, et par un ch\u00e2timent national\nil les punira pour leur crime national; mais cela n'est point mon\naffaire.\nCHRISTIANUS\nVendredi, il est vrai, peut justifier de cette action: il est leur\nennemi, il est en \u00e9tat de guerre avec ces m\u00eames hommes, c'est loyal \u00e0\nlui de les attaquer; mais je n'en puis dire autant quant \u00e0 moi--Ces\npens\u00e9es firent une impression si forte sur mon esprit, que je r\u00e9solus de\nme placer seulement pr\u00e8s d'eux pour observer leur f\u00eate barbare, d'agir\nalors suivant que le Ciel m'inspirerait, mais de ne point m'entremettre,\n\u00e0 moins que quelque chose ne se pr\u00e9sent\u00e2t qui f\u00fbt pour moi une\ninjonction formelle.\nPlein de cette r\u00e9solution, j'entrai dans le bois, et avec toute la\npr\u00e9caution et le silence possibles,--ayant Vendredi sur mes talons,--je\nmarchai jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'eusse atteint la lisi\u00e8re du c\u00f4t\u00e9 le plus proche\ndes Sauvages. Une pointe de bois restait seulement entre eux et moi.\nJ'appelai doucement Vendredi, et, lui montrant un grand arbre qui \u00e9tait\njuste \u00e0 l'angle du bois, je lui commandai d'y aller et de m'apporter\nr\u00e9ponse si de l\u00e0 il pouvait voir parfaitement ce qu'ils faisaient. Il\nob\u00e9it et revint imm\u00e9diatement me dire que de ce lieu on les voyait\ntr\u00e8s-bien; qu'ils \u00e9taient touts autour d'un feu, mangeant la chair d'un\nde leurs prisonniers, et qu'\u00e0 peu de distance de l\u00e0 il y en avait un\nautre gisant, garrott\u00e9 sur le sable, qu'ils allaient tuer bient\u00f4t,\naffirmait-il, ce qui embrasa mon \u00e2me de col\u00e8re. Il ajouta que ce n'\u00e9tait\npas un prisonnier de leur nation, mais un des hommes barbus dont il\nm'avait parl\u00e9 et qui \u00e9taient venus dans leur pays sur un bateau. Au seul\nmot d'un homme blanc et barbu je fus rempli d'horreur; j'allai \u00e0\nl'arbre, et je distinguai parfaitement avec ma longue-vue un homme blanc\ncouch\u00e9 sur la gr\u00e8ve de la mer, pieds et mains li\u00e9s avec des glayeuls ou\nquelque chose de semblable \u00e0 des joncs; je distinguai aussi qu'il \u00e9tait\nEurop\u00e9en et qu'il avait des v\u00eatements.\nIl y avait un autre arbre et au-del\u00e0 un petit hallier plus pr\u00e8s d'eux\nque la place ou j'\u00e9tais d'environ cinquante verges. Je vis qu'en faisant\nun petit d\u00e9tour je pourrais y parvenir sans \u00eatre d\u00e9couvert, et qu'alors\nje n'en serais plus qu'\u00e0 demi-port\u00e9e de fusil. Je retins donc ma col\u00e8re,\nquoique vraiment je fusse outr\u00e9 au plus haut degr\u00e9, et, rebroussant\nd'environ trente pas, je marchai derri\u00e8re quelques buissons qui\ncouvraient tout le chemin, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je fusse arriv\u00e9 vers l'autre\narbre. L\u00e0 je gravis sur un petit tertre d'o\u00f9 ma vue plongeait librement\nsur les Sauvages \u00e0 la distance de quatre-vingts verges environ.\nIl n'y avait pas alors un moment \u00e0 perdre; car dix-neuf de ces atroces\nmis\u00e9rables \u00e9taient assis \u00e0 terre touts p\u00eale-m\u00eale, et venaient justement\nd'envoyer deux d'entre eux pour \u00e9gorger le pauvre Chr\u00e9tien et peut-\u00eatre\nl'apporter membre \u00e0 membre \u00e0 leur feu: d\u00e9j\u00e0 m\u00eame ils \u00e9taient baiss\u00e9s\npour lui d\u00e9lier les pieds. Je me tournai vers Vendredi:--\u00abMaintenant,\nlui dis-je, fais ce que je te commanderai.\u00bb Il me le promit.--\u00abAlors,\nVendredi, repris-je, fais exactement ce que tu me verras faire sans y\nmanquer en rien.\u00bb--Je posai \u00e0 terre un des mousquets et mon fusil de\nchasse, et Vendredi m'imita; puis avec mon autre mousquet je couchai en\njoue les Sauvages, en lui ordonnant de faire de m\u00eame.--\u00abEs-tu pr\u00eat? lui\ndis-je alors.\u00bb--\u00abOui,\u00bb r\u00e9pondit-il.--\u00abAllons, feu sur touts!\u00bb--Et au\nm\u00eame instant je tirai aussi.\nVendredi avait tellement mieux vis\u00e9 que moi, qu'il en tua deux et en\nblessa trois, tandis que j'en tuai un et en blessai deux. Ce fut,\nsoyez-en s\u00fbr, une terrible consternation: touts ceux qui n'\u00e9taient pas\nbless\u00e9s se dress\u00e8rent subitement sur leurs pieds; mais ils ne savaient\nde quel c\u00f4t\u00e9 fuir, quel chemin prendre, car ils ignoraient d'o\u00f9 leur\nvenait la mort. Vendredi avait toujours les yeux attach\u00e9s sur moi, afin,\ncomme je le lui avais enjoint, de pouvoir suivre touts mes mouvements.\nAussit\u00f4t apr\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge je jetai mon arme et pris le fusil\nde chasse, et Vendredi fit de m\u00eame. J'armai et couchai en joue, il arma\net ajusta aussi.--\u00abEs-tu pr\u00eat, Vendredi,\u00bb lui dis-je.--\u00abOui,\nr\u00e9pondit-il.--\u00abFeu donc, au nom de Dieu!\u00bb Et au m\u00eame instant nous\ntir\u00e2mes touts deux sur ces mis\u00e9rables \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s. Comme nos armes\nn'\u00e9taient charg\u00e9es que de ce que j'ai appel\u00e9 chevrotines ou petites\nballes de pistolet, il n'en tomba que deux; mais il y en eut tant de\nfrapp\u00e9s, que nous les v\u00eemes courir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 tout couverts de sang,\ncriant et hurlant comme des insens\u00e9s et cruellement bless\u00e9s pour la\nplupart. Bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s trois autres encore tomb\u00e8rent, mais non pas\ntout-\u00e0-fait morts.\n--\u00abMaintenant, Vendredi, m'\u00e9criai-je en posant \u00e0 terre les armes vides\net en prenant le mousquet qui \u00e9tait encore charg\u00e9, suis moi!\u00bb--Ce qu'il\nfit avec beaucoup de courage. L\u00e0-dessus je me pr\u00e9cipitai hors du bois\navec Vendredi sur mes talons, et je me d\u00e9couvris moi-m\u00eame. Sit\u00f4t qu'ils\nm'eurent apper\u00e7u je poussai un cri effroyable, j'enjoignis \u00e0 Vendredi\nd'en faire autant; et, courant aussi vite que je pouvais, ce qui n'\u00e9tait\ngu\u00e8re, charg\u00e9 d'armes comme je l'\u00e9tais, j'allai droit \u00e0 la pauvre\nvictime qui gisait, comme je l'ai dit, sur la gr\u00e8ve, entre la place du\nfestin et la mer. Les deux bouchers qui allaient se mettre en besogne\nsur lui l'avaient abandonn\u00e9 de surprise \u00e0 notre premier feu, et\ns'\u00e9taient enfuis, saisis d'\u00e9pouvante, vers le rivage, o\u00f9 ils s'\u00e9taient\njet\u00e9s dans un canot, ainsi que trois de leurs compagnons. Je me tournai\nvers Vendredi, et je lui ordonnai d'avancer et de tirer dessus. Il me\ncomprit aussit\u00f4t, et, courant environ la longueur de quarante verges\npour s'approcher d'eux, il fit feu. Je crus d'abord qu'il les avait\ntouts tu\u00e9s, car ils tomb\u00e8rent en tas dans le canot; mais bient\u00f4t j'en\nvis deux se relever. Toutefois il en avait exp\u00e9di\u00e9 deux et bless\u00e9 un\ntroisi\u00e8me, qui resta comme mort au fond du bateau.\nTandis que mon serviteur Vendredi tiraillait, je pris mon couteau et je\ncoupai les glayeuls qui liaient le pauvre prisonnier. Ayant d\u00e9barrass\u00e9\nses pieds et ses mains, je le relevai et lui demandai en portugais qui\nil \u00e9tait. Il r\u00e9pondit en latin: _Christianus_. Mais il \u00e9tait si faible\net si languissant qu'il pouvait \u00e0 peine se tenir ou parler. Je tirai ma\nbouteille de ma poche, et la lui pr\u00e9sentai en lui faisant signe de\nboire, ce qu'il fit; puis je lui donnai un morceau de pain qu'il mangea.\nAlors je lui demandai de quel pays il \u00e9tait: il me r\u00e9pondit: _Espa\u00f1ol_.\nEt, se remettant un peu, il me fit conna\u00eetre par touts les gestes\npossibles combien il m'\u00e9tait redevable pour sa d\u00e9livrance.--\u00abSe\u00f1or, lui\ndis-je avec tout l'espagnol que je pus rassembler, nous parlerons plus\ntard; maintenant il nous faut combattre. S'il vous reste quelque force,\nprenez ce pistolet et ce sabre et vengez-vous.\u00bb--il les prit avec\ngratitude, et n'eut pas plus t\u00f4t ces armes dans les mains, que, comme si\nelles lui eussent communiqu\u00e9 une nouvelle \u00e9nergie, il se rua sur ses\nmeurtriers avec furie, et en tailla deux en pi\u00e8ces en un instant; mais\nil est vrai que tout ceci \u00e9tait si \u00e9trange pour eux, que les pauvres\nmis\u00e9rables, effray\u00e9s du bruit de nos mousquets, tombaient de pur\n\u00e9tonnement et de peur, et \u00e9taient aussi incapables de chercher \u00e0\ns'enfuir que leur chair de r\u00e9sister \u00e0 nos balles. Et c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 juste le\ncas des cinq sur lesquels Vendredi avait tir\u00e9 dans la pirogue; car si\ntrois tomb\u00e8rent des blessures qu'ils avaient re\u00e7ues, deux tomb\u00e8rent\nseulement d'effroi.\nJe tenais toujours mon fusil \u00e0 la main sans tirer, voulant garder mon\ncoup tout pr\u00eat, parce que j'avais donn\u00e9 \u00e0 l'Espagnol mon pistolet et mon\nsabre. J'appelai Vendredi et lui ordonnai de courir \u00e0 l'arbre d'o\u00f9 nous\navions fait feu d'abord, pour rapporter les armes d\u00e9charg\u00e9es que nous\navions laiss\u00e9es l\u00e0; ce qu'il fit avec une grande c\u00e9l\u00e9rit\u00e9. Alors je lui\ndonnai mon mousquet, je m'assis pour recharger les autres armes, et\nrecommandai \u00e0 mes hommes de revenir vers moi quand ils en auraient\nbesoin.\nTandis que j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 cette besogne un rude combat s'engagea entre\nl'Espagnol et un des Sauvages, qui lui portait des coups avec un de\nleurs grands sabres de bois, cette m\u00eame arme qui devait servir \u00e0 lui\n\u00f4ter la vie si je ne l'avais emp\u00each\u00e9. L'Espagnol \u00e9tait aussi hardi et\naussi brave qu'on puisse l'imaginer: quoique faible, il combattait d\u00e9j\u00e0\ncet Indien depuis long-temps et lui avait fait deux larges blessures \u00e0\nla t\u00eate; mais le Sauvage, qui \u00e9tait un vaillant et un robuste compagnon,\nl'ayant \u00e9treint dans ses bras, l'avait renvers\u00e9 et s'effor\u00e7ait de lui\narracher mon sabre des mains. Alors l'Espagnol le lui abandonna\nsagement, et, prenant son pistolet \u00e0 sa ceinture, lui tira au travers du\ncorps et l'\u00e9tendit mort sur la place avant que moi, qui accourais, au\nsecours, j'eusse eu le temps de le joindre.\nVendredi, laiss\u00e9 \u00e0 sa libert\u00e9, poursuivait les mis\u00e9rables fuyards sans\nautre arme au poing que sa hachette, avec laquelle il d\u00e9p\u00eacha\npremi\u00e8rement ces trois qui, bless\u00e9s d'abord, tomb\u00e8rent ensuite, comme je\nl'ai dit plus haut, puis apr\u00e8s touts ceux qu'il put attraper. L'Espagnol\nm'ayant demand\u00e9 un mousquet, je lui donnai un des fusils de chasse, et\nil se mit \u00e0 la poursuite de deux Sauvages, qu'il blessa touts deux;\nmais, comme il ne pouvait courir, ils se r\u00e9fugi\u00e8rent dans le bois, o\u00f9\nVendredi les pourchassa, et en tua un: l'autre, trop agile pour lui,\nmalgr\u00e9 ses blessures, plongea dans la mer et nagea de toutes ses forces\nvers ses camarades qui s'\u00e9taient sauv\u00e9s dans le canot. Ces trois\nrembarqu\u00e9s, avec un autre, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 bless\u00e9 sans que nous pussions\nsavoir s'il \u00e9tait mort ou vif, furent des vingt-un les seuls qui\ns'\u00e9chapp\u00e8rent de nos mains.--\n3 Tu\u00e9s \u00e0 notre premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge partie de l'arbre.\n2 Tu\u00e9s \u00e0 la d\u00e9charge suivante.\n2 Tu\u00e9s par Vendredi dans le bateau.\n2 Tu\u00e9s par le m\u00eame, de ceux qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bless\u00e9s d'abord.\n1 Tu\u00e9 par le m\u00eame dans les bois.\n3 Tu\u00e9s par l'Espagnol.\n4 Tu\u00e9s, qui tomb\u00e8rent \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 de leurs blessures ou \u00e0 qui Vendredi donna\nla chasse.\n4 Sauv\u00e9s dans le canot, parmi lesquels un bless\u00e9, si non mort.\n21 en tout.\nCeux qui \u00e9taient dans le canot man\u0153uvr\u00e8rent rudement pour se mettre hors\nde la port\u00e9e du fusil; et, quoique Vendredi leur tir\u00e2t deux ou trois\ncoups encore, je ne vis pas qu'il en e\u00fbt bless\u00e9 aucun. Il d\u00e9sirait\nvivement que je prisse une de leurs pirogues et que je les poursuivisse;\net, au fait, moi-m\u00eame j'\u00e9tais tr\u00e8s-inquiet de leur fuite; je redoutais\nqu'ils ne portassent de mes nouvelles dans leur pays, et ne revinssent\npeut-\u00eatre avec deux ou trois cents pirogues pour nous accabler par leur\nnombre. Je consentis donc \u00e0 leur donner la chasse en mer, et courant \u00e0\nun de leurs canots, je m'y jetai et commandai \u00e0 Vendredi de me suivre;\nmais en y entrant quelle fut ma surprise de trouver un pauvre Sauvage,\n\u00e9tendu pieds et poings li\u00e9s, destin\u00e9 \u00e0 la mort comme l'avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nl'Espagnol, et presque expirant de peur, ne sachant pas ce qui se\npassait car il n'avait pu regarder par-dessus le bord du bateau. Il\n\u00e9tait li\u00e9 si fortement de la t\u00eate aux pieds et avait \u00e9t\u00e9 garrott\u00e9 si\nlong-temps qu'il ne lui restait plus qu'un souffle de vie.\nJe coupai aussit\u00f4t les glayeuls ou les joncs tortill\u00e9s qui\nl'attachaient, et je voulus l'aider \u00e0 se lever; mais il ne pouvait ni se\nsoutenir ni parler; seulement il g\u00e9missait tr\u00e8s-piteusement, croyant\nsans doute qu'on ne l'avait d\u00e9li\u00e9 que pour le faire mourir.\nLorsque Vendredi se fut approch\u00e9, je le priai de lui parler et de\nl'assurer de sa d\u00e9livrance; puis, tirant ma bouteille, je fis donner une\ngoutte de _rum_ \u00e0 ce pauvre malheureux; ce qui, avec la nouvelle de son\nsalut, le ranima, et il s'assit dans le bateau. Mais quand Vendredi vint\n\u00e0 l'entendre parler et \u00e0 le regarder en face, ce fut un spectacle \u00e0\nattendrir jusqu'aux larmes, de le voir baiser, embrasser et \u00e9treindre ce\nSauvage; de le voir pleurer, rire, crier, sauter \u00e0 l'entour, danser,\nchanter, puis pleurer encore, se tordre les mains, se frapper la t\u00eate et\nla face, puis chanter et sauter encore \u00e0 l'entour comme un insens\u00e9. Il\nse passa un long temps avant que je pusse lui arracher une parole et lui\nfaire dire ce dont il s'agissait; mais quand il fut un peu revenu \u00e0\nlui-m\u00eame, il s'\u00e9cria:--\u00abC'est mon p\u00e8re!\u00bb\nVENDREDI ET SON P\u00c8RE\nIl m'est difficile d'exprimer combien je fus \u00e9mu des transports de joie\net d'amour filial qui agit\u00e8rent ce pauvre Sauvage \u00e0 la vue de son p\u00e8re\nd\u00e9livr\u00e9 de la mort. Je ne puis vraiment d\u00e9crire la moiti\u00e9 de ses\nextravagances de tendresse. Il se jeta dans la pirogue et en ressortit\nje ne sais combien de fois. Quand il y entrait il s'asseyait aupr\u00e8s de\nson p\u00e8re, il se d\u00e9couvrait la poitrine, et, pour le ranimer, il lui\ntenait la t\u00eate appuy\u00e9e contre son sein des demi-heures enti\u00e8res; puis il\nprenait ses bras, ses jambes, engourdis et roidis par les liens, les\nr\u00e9chauffait et les frottait avec ses mains, et moi, ayant vu cela, je\nlui donnai du _rum_ de ma bouteille pour faire des frictions, qui eurent\nun excellent effet.\nCet \u00e9v\u00e9nement nous emp\u00eacha de poursuivre le canot des Sauvages, qui\n\u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s hors de vue; mais ce fut heureux pour nous: car au\nbout de deux heures avant qu'ils eussent pu faire le quart de leur\nchemin, il se leva un vent imp\u00e9tueux, qui continua de souffler si\nviolemment toute la nuit et de souffler Nord-Ouest, ce qui leur \u00e9tait\ncontraire, que je ne pus supposer que leur embarcation e\u00fbt r\u00e9sist\u00e9 et\nqu'ils eussent regagn\u00e9 leur c\u00f4te.\nMais, pour revenir \u00e0 Vendredi, il \u00e9tait tellement occup\u00e9 de son p\u00e8re,\nque de quelque temps je n'eus pas le c\u0153ur de l'arracher de l\u00e0. Cependant\nlorsque je pensai qu'il pouvait le quitter un instant, je l'appelai vers\nmoi, et il vint sautant et riant, et dans une joie extr\u00eame. Je lui\ndemandai s'il avait donn\u00e9 du pain \u00e0 son p\u00e8re. Il secoua la t\u00eate, et\nr\u00e9pondit:--\u00abNon: moi, vilain chien, manger tout moi-m\u00eame.\u00bb--Je lui\ndonnai donc un g\u00e2teau de pain, que je tirai d'une petite poche que je\nportais \u00e0 cet effet. Je lui donnai aussi une goutte de _rum_ pour\nlui-m\u00eame; mais il ne voulut pas y go\u00fbter et l'offrit \u00e0 son p\u00e8re. J'avais\nencore dans ma pochette deux ou trois grappes de mes raisins, je lui en\ndonnai de m\u00eame une poign\u00e9e pour son p\u00e8re. \u00c0 peine la lui e\u00fbt-il port\u00e9e\nque je le vis sortir de la pirogue et s'enfuir comme s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\n\u00e9pouvant\u00e9. Il courait avec une telle v\u00e9locit\u00e9,--car c'\u00e9tait le gar\u00e7on le\nplus agile de ses pieds que j'aie jamais vu;--il courait avec une telle\nv\u00e9locit\u00e9, dis-je, qu'en quelque sorte je le perdis de vue en un instant.\nJ'eus beau l'appeler et crier apr\u00e8s lui, ce fut inutile; il fila son\nchemin, et, un quart d'heure apr\u00e8s, je le vis revenir, mais avec moins\nde vitesse qu'il ne s'en \u00e9tait all\u00e9. Quand il s'approcha, je m'apper\u00e7us\nqu'il avait ralenti son pas, parce qu'il portait quelque chose \u00e0 la\nmain.\nArriv\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de moi, je reconnus qu'il \u00e9tait all\u00e9 \u00e0 la maison chercher un\npot de terre pour apporter de l'eau fra\u00eeche, et qu'il \u00e9tait charg\u00e9 en\noutre de deux g\u00e2teaux ou galettes de pain. Il me donna le pain, mais il\nporta l'eau \u00e0 son p\u00e8re. Cependant, comme j'\u00e9tais moi-m\u00eame tr\u00e8s-alt\u00e9r\u00e9,\nj'en humai quelque peu. Cette eau ranima le Sauvage beaucoup mieux que\nle _rum_ ou la liqueur forte que je lui avais donn\u00e9, car il se mourait\nde soif.\nQuand il eut bu, j'appelai Vendredi pour savoir s'il restait encore un\npeu d'eau; il me r\u00e9pondit que oui. Je le priai donc de la donner au\npauvre Espagnol, qui en avait tout autant besoin que son p\u00e8re. Je lui\nenvoyai aussi un des g\u00e2teaux que Vendredi avait \u00e9t\u00e9 chercher. Cet homme,\nqui \u00e9tait vraiment tr\u00e8s-affaibli, se reposait sur l'herbe \u00e0 l'ombre d'un\narbre; ses membres \u00e9taient roides et tr\u00e8s-enfl\u00e9s par les liens dont ils\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 brutalement garrott\u00e9s. Quand, \u00e0 l'approche de Vendredi lui\napportant de l'eau, je le vis se dresser sur son s\u00e9ant, boire, prendre\nle pain et se mettre \u00e0 le manger, j'allai \u00e0 lui et lui donnai une\npoign\u00e9e de raisins. Il me regarda avec toutes les marques de gratitude\net de reconnaissance qui peuvent se manifester sur un visage; mais,\nquoiqu'il se f\u00fbt si bien montr\u00e9 dans le combat, il \u00e9tait si d\u00e9faillant\nqu'il ne pouvait se tenir debout; il l'essaya deux ou trois fois, mais\nr\u00e9ellement en vain, tant ses chevilles \u00e9taient enfl\u00e9es et douloureuses.\nJe l'engageai donc \u00e0 ne pas bouger, et priai Vendredi de les lui frotter\net de les lui bassiner avec du _rum,_ comme il avait fait \u00e0 son p\u00e8re.\nJ'observai que, durant le temps que le pauvre et affectionn\u00e9 Vendredi\nfut retenu l\u00e0, toutes les deux minutes, plus souvent m\u00eame, il retournait\nla t\u00eate pour voir si son p\u00e8re \u00e9tait \u00e0 la m\u00eame place et dans la m\u00eame\nposture o\u00f9 il l'avait laiss\u00e9. Enfin, ne l'appercevant plus, il se leva\nsans dire mot et courut vers lui avec tant de vitesse, qu'il semblait\nque ses pieds ne touchaient pas la terre; mais en arrivant il trouva\nseulement qu'il s'\u00e9tait couch\u00e9 pour reposer ses membres. Il revint donc\naussit\u00f4t, et je priai alors l'Espagnol de permettre que Vendredi l'aid\u00e2t\n\u00e0 se lever et le conduis\u00eet jusqu'au bateau, pour le mener \u00e0 notre\ndemeure, o\u00f9 je prendrais soin de lui. Mais Vendredi, qui \u00e9tait un jeune\net robuste compagnon, le chargea sur ses \u00e9paules, le porta au canot et\nl'assit doucement sur un des c\u00f4t\u00e9s, les pieds tourn\u00e9s dans l'int\u00e9rieur;\npuis, le soulevant encore, le pla\u00e7a tout aupr\u00e8s de son p\u00e8re. Alors il\nressortit de la pirogue, la mit \u00e0 la mer, et quoiqu'il f\u00eet un vent assez\nviolent, il pagaya le long du rivage plus vite que je ne pouvais\nmarcher. Ainsi il les amena touts deux en s\u00fbret\u00e9 dans notre crique, et,\nles laissant dans la barque, il courut chercher l'autre canot. Au moment\no\u00f9 il passait pr\u00e8s de moi je lui parlai et lui demandai o\u00f9 il allait. Il\nme r\u00e9pondit:--\u00abVais chercher plus bateau.\u00bb--Puis il repartit comme le\nvent; car assur\u00e9ment jamais homme ni cheval ne coururent comme lui, et\nil eut amen\u00e9 le second canot dans la crique presque aussit\u00f4t que j'y\narrivai par terre. Alors il me fit passer sur l'autre rive et alla\nensuite aider \u00e0 nos nouveaux h\u00f4tes \u00e0 sortir du bateau. Mais, une fois\ndehors, ils ne purent marcher ni l'un ni l'autre; le pauvre Vendredi ne\nsavait que faire.\nPour rem\u00e9dier \u00e0 cela je me pris \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, et je priai Vendredi de les\ninviter \u00e0 s'asseoir sur le bord tandis qu'il viendrait avec moi. J'eus\nbient\u00f4t fabriqu\u00e9 une sorte de civi\u00e8re o\u00f9 nous les pla\u00e7\u00e2mes, et sur\nlaquelle, Vendredi et moi, nous les port\u00e2mes touts deux. Mais quand nous\nles e\u00fbmes apport\u00e9s au pied ext\u00e9rieur de notre muraille ou fortification,\nnous retomb\u00e2mes dans un pire embarras qu'auparavant; car il \u00e9tait\nimpossible de les faire passer par-dessus, et j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu \u00e0 ne point\nl'abattre. Je me remis donc \u00e0 l'ouvrage, et Vendredi et moi nous e\u00fbmes\nfait en deux heures de temps environ une tr\u00e8s-jolie tente avec de\nvieilles voiles, recouverte de branches d'arbre, et dress\u00e9e dans\nl'esplanade, entre notre retranchement ext\u00e9rieur et le bocage que\nj'avais plant\u00e9. L\u00e0 nous leur f\u00eemes deux lits de ce que je me trouvais\navoir, c'est-\u00e0-dire de bonne paille de riz, avec des couvertures jet\u00e9es\ndessus, l'une pour se coucher et l'autre pour se couvrir.\nMon \u00eele \u00e9tait alors peupl\u00e9e, je me croyais tr\u00e8s-riche en sujets; et il\nme vint et je fis souvent l'agr\u00e9able r\u00e9flexion, que je ressemblais \u00e0 un\nRoi. Premi\u00e8rement, tout le pays \u00e9tait ma propri\u00e9t\u00e9 absolue, de sorte que\nj'avais un droit indubitable de domination; secondement, mon peuple\n\u00e9tait compl\u00e8tement soumis. J'\u00e9tais souverain seigneur et l\u00e9gislateur;\ntouts me devaient la vie et touts \u00e9taient pr\u00eats \u00e0 mourir pour moi si\nbesoin \u00e9tait. Chose surtout remarquable! je n'avais que trois sujets et\nils \u00e9taient de trois religions diff\u00e9rentes: Mon homme Vendredi \u00e9tait\nprotestant, son p\u00e8re \u00e9tait idol\u00e2tre et cannibale, et l'Espagnol \u00e9tait\npapiste. Toutefois, soit dit en passant, j'accordai la libert\u00e9 de\nconscience dans toute l'\u00e9tendue de mes \u00c9tats.\nSit\u00f4t que j'eus mis en lieu de s\u00fbret\u00e9 mes deux pauvres prisonniers\nd\u00e9livr\u00e9s, que je leur eus donn\u00e9 un abri et une place pour se reposer, je\nsongeai \u00e0 faire quelques provisions pour eux. J'ordonnai d'abord \u00e0\nVendredi de prendre dans mon troupeau particulier une bique ou un cabri\nd'un an pour le tuer. J'en coupai ensuite le quartier de derri\u00e8re, que\nje mis en petits morceaux. Je chargeai Vendredi de le faire bouillir et\n\u00e9tuver, et il leur pr\u00e9para, je vous assure, un fort bon service de\nviande et de consomm\u00e9. J'avais mis aussi un peu d'orge et de riz dans le\nbouillon. Comme j'avais fait cuire cela dehors,--car jamais je\nn'allumais de feu dans l'int\u00e9rieur de mon retranchement,--je portai le\ntout dans la nouvelle tente; et l\u00e0, ayant dress\u00e9 une table pour mes\nh\u00f4tes, j'y pris place moi-m\u00eame aupr\u00e8s d'eux et je partageai leur d\u00eener.\nJe les encourageai et les r\u00e9confortai de mon mieux, Vendredi me servant\nd'interpr\u00e8te aupr\u00e8s de son p\u00e8re et m\u00eame aupr\u00e8s de l'Espagnol, qui\nparlait assez bien la langue des Sauvages.\nApr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes d\u00een\u00e9 ou plut\u00f4t soup\u00e9, j'ordonnai \u00e0 Vendredi de\nprendre un des canots, et d'aller chercher nos mousquets et autres armes\n\u00e0 feu, que, faute de temps, nous avions laiss\u00e9s sur le champ de\nbataille. Le lendemain je lui donnai ordre d'aller ensevelir les\ncadavres des Sauvages, qui, laiss\u00e9s au soleil, auraient bient\u00f4t r\u00e9pandu\nl'infection. Je lui enjoignis aussi d'enterrer les horribles restes de\nleur atroce festin, que je savais \u00eatre en assez grande quantit\u00e9. Je ne\npouvais supporter la pens\u00e9e de le faire moi-m\u00eame; je n'aurais pu m\u00eame en\nsupporter la vue si je fusse all\u00e9 par l\u00e0. Il ex\u00e9cuta touts mes ordres\nponctuellement et fit dispara\u00eetre jusqu'\u00e0 la moindre trace des Sauvages;\nsi bien qu'en y retournant, j'eus peine \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre le lieu autrement\nque par le coin du bois qui saillait sur la place.\nJe commen\u00e7ai d\u00e8s lors \u00e0 converser un peu avec mes deux nouveaux sujets.\nJe chargeai premi\u00e8rement Vendredi de demander \u00e0 son p\u00e8re ce qu'il\npensait des Sauvages \u00e9chapp\u00e9s dans le canot, et si nous devions nous\nattendre \u00e0 les voir revenir avec des forces trop sup\u00e9rieures pour que\nnous pussions y r\u00e9sister; sa premi\u00e8re opinion fut qu'ils n'avaient pu\nsurmonter la temp\u00eate qui avait souffl\u00e9 toute la nuit de leur fuite;\nqu'ils avaient d\u00fb n\u00e9cessairement \u00eatre submerg\u00e9s ou entra\u00een\u00e9s au Sud vers\ncertains rivages, o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait aussi s\u00fbr qu'ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9vor\u00e9s qu'il\n\u00e9tait s\u00fbr qu'ils avaient p\u00e9ri s'ils avaient fait naufrage. Mais quant \u00e0\nce qu'ils feraient s'ils regagnaient sains et saufs leur rivage, il dit\nqu'il ne le savait pas; mais son opinion \u00e9tait qu'ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 si\neffroyablement \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s de la mani\u00e8re dont nous les avions attaqu\u00e9s,\ndu bruit et du feu de nos armes, qu'ils raconteraient \u00e0 leur nation que\nleurs compagnons avaient touts \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s par le tonnerre et les \u00e9clairs,\net non par la main des hommes, et que les deux \u00eatres qui leur \u00e9taient\napparus,--c'est-\u00e0-dire Vendredi et moi,--\u00e9taient deux esprits c\u00e9lestes\nou deux furies descendues sur terre pour les d\u00e9truire, mais non des\nhommes arm\u00e9s. Il \u00e9tait port\u00e9 \u00e0 croire cela, disait-il, parce qu'il les\navait entendus se crier de l'un \u00e0 l'autre, dans leur langage, qu'ils ne\npouvaient pas concevoir qu'un homme p\u00fbt _darder feu, parler tonnerre_ et\ntuer \u00e0 une grande distance sans lever seulement la main. Et ce vieux\nSauvage avait raison; car depuis lors, comme je l'appris ensuite et\nd'autre part, les Sauvages de cette nation ne tent\u00e8rent plus de\ndescendre dans l'\u00eele. Ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 si \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s par les r\u00e9cits de\nces quatre hommes, qui \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, \u00e9taient \u00e9chapp\u00e9s \u00e0 la mer,\nqu'ils s'\u00e9taient persuad\u00e9s que quiconque aborderait \u00e0 cette \u00eele\nensorcel\u00e9e serait d\u00e9truit par le feu des dieux.\nToutefois, ignorant cela, je fus pendant assez long-temps dans de\ncontinuelles appr\u00e9hensions, et me tins sans cesse sur mes gardes, moi et\ntoute mon arm\u00e9e; comme alors nous \u00e9tions quatre, je me serais, en rase\ncampagne, bravement aventur\u00e9 contre une centaine de ces barbares.\nCependant, un certain laps de temps s'\u00e9tant \u00e9coul\u00e9 sans qu'aucun canot\nrepar\u00fbt, ma crainte de leur venue se dissipa, et je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 me\nremettre en t\u00eate mes premi\u00e8res id\u00e9es de voyage \u00e0 la terre ferme, le p\u00e8re\nde Vendredi m'assurant que je pouvais compter sur les bons traitement\nqu'\u00e0 sa consid\u00e9ration je recevrais de sa nation, si j'y allais.\nPR\u00c9VOYANCE\nMais je diff\u00e9rai un peu mon projet quand j'eus eu une conversation\ns\u00e9rieuse avec l'Espagnol, et que j'eus acquis la certitude qu'il y avait\nencore seize de ses camarades, tant espagnols que portugais, qui, ayant\nfait naufrage et s'\u00e9tant sauv\u00e9s sur cette c\u00f4te, y vivaient, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9,\nen paix avec les Sauvages, mais en fort mauvaise passe quant \u00e0 leur\nn\u00e9cessaire, et au fait quant \u00e0 leur existence. Je lui demandai toutes\nles particularit\u00e9s de leur voyage, et j'appris qu'ils avaient appartenu\n\u00e0 un vaisseau espagnol venant de Rio de la Plata et allant \u00e0 la Havane,\no\u00f9 il devait d\u00e9barquer sa cargaison, qui consistait principalement en\npelleterie et en argent, et d'o\u00f9 il devait rapporter toutes les\nmarchandises europ\u00e9ennes qu'il y pourrait trouver; qu'il y avait \u00e0 bord\ncinq matelots portugais recueillis d'un naufrage: que tout d'abord que\nle navire s'\u00e9tant perdu, cinq des leurs s'\u00e9taient noy\u00e9s; que les autres\n\u00e0 travers des dangers et des hasards infinis, avaient abord\u00e9 mourants de\nfaim \u00e0 cette c\u00f4te cannibale, o\u00f9 \u00e0 tout moment ils s'attendaient \u00e0 \u00eatre\nd\u00e9vor\u00e9s.\nIl me dit qu'ils avaient quelques armes avec eux, mais qu'elles leur\n\u00e9taient tout-\u00e0-fait inutiles, faute de munitions, l'eau de la mer ayant\ng\u00e2t\u00e9 toute leur poudre, sauf une petite quantit\u00e9 qu'ils avaient us\u00e9e d\u00e8s\nleur d\u00e9barquement pour se procurer quelque nourriture.\nJe lui demandai ce qu'il pensait qu'ils deviendraient l\u00e0, et s'ils\nn'avaient pas form\u00e9 quelque dessein de fuite. Il me r\u00e9pondit qu'ils\navaient eu plusieurs d\u00e9lib\u00e9rations \u00e0 ce sujet; mais que, n'ayant ni\nb\u00e2timent, ni outils pour en construire un, ni provisions d'aucune sorte,\nleurs consultations s'\u00e9taient toujours termin\u00e9es par les larmes et le\nd\u00e9sespoir.\nJe lui demandai s'il pouvait pr\u00e9sumer comment ils accueilleraient,\nvenant de moi, une proposition qui tendrait \u00e0 leur d\u00e9livrance, et si,\n\u00e9tant touts dans mon \u00eele, elle ne pourrait pas s'effectuer. Je lui\navouai franchement que je redouterais beaucoup leur perfidie et leur\ntrahison si je d\u00e9posais ma vie entre leurs mains; car la reconnaissance\nn'est pas une vertu inh\u00e9rente \u00e0 la nature humaine: les hommes souvent\nmesurent moins leurs proc\u00e9d\u00e9s aux bons offices qu'ils ont re\u00e7us qu'aux\navantages qu'ils se promettent.--\u00abCe serait une chose bien dure pour\nmoi, continuai-je, si j'\u00e9tais l'instrument de leur d\u00e9livrance, et qu'ils\nme fissent ensuite leur prisonnier dans la Nouvelle-Espagne, o\u00f9 un\nAnglais peut avoir l'assurance d'\u00eatre sacrifi\u00e9, quelle que soit la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 ou quel que soit l'accident qui l'y ait amen\u00e9. J'aimerais\nmieux \u00eatre livr\u00e9 aux Sauvages et d\u00e9vor\u00e9 vivant que de tomber entre les\ngriffes impitoyables des Familiers, et d'\u00eatre tra\u00een\u00e9 devant\nl'Inquisition.\u00bb J'ajoutai qu'\u00e0 part cette appr\u00e9hension, j'\u00e9tais\npersuad\u00e9, s'ils \u00e9taient touts dans mon \u00eele, que nous pourrions \u00e0 l'aide\nde tant de bras construire une embarcation assez grande pour nous\ntransporter soit au Br\u00e9sil du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du Sud, soit aux \u00eeles ou \u00e0 la c\u00f4te\nespagnole vers le Nord; mais que si, en r\u00e9compense, lorsque je leur\naurais mis les armes \u00e0 la main, ils me traduisaient de force dans leur\npatrie, je serais mal pay\u00e9 de mes bont\u00e9s pour eux, et j'aurais fait mon\nsort pire qu'il n'\u00e9tait auparavant.\nIl r\u00e9pondit, avec beaucoup de candeur et de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9, que leur\ncondition \u00e9tait si mis\u00e9rable et qu'ils en \u00e9taient si p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9s,\nqu'assur\u00e9ment ils auraient en horreur la pens\u00e9e d'en user mal avec un\nhomme qui aurait contribu\u00e9 \u00e0 leur d\u00e9livrance; qu'apr\u00e8s tout, si je\nvoulais, il irait vers eux avec le vieux Sauvage, s'entretiendrait de\ntout cela et reviendrait m'apporter leur r\u00e9ponse; mais qu'il n'entrerait\nen trait\u00e9 avec eux que sous le serment solemnel qu'ils reconna\u00eetraient\nenti\u00e8rement mon autorit\u00e9 comme chef et capitaine; et qu'il leur ferait\njurer sur les Saints-Sacrements et l'\u00c9vangile d'\u00eatre loyaux avec moi,\nd'aller en tel pays chr\u00e9tien qu'il me conviendrait, et nulle autre part,\net d'\u00eatre soumis totalement et absolument \u00e0 mes ordres jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils\neussent d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 sains et saufs dans n'importe quelle contr\u00e9e je\nvoudrais; enfin, qu'\u00e0 cet effet, il m'apporterait un contrat dress\u00e9 par\neux et sign\u00e9 de leur main.\nPuis il me dit qu'il voulait d'abord jurer lui-m\u00eame de ne jamais se\ns\u00e9parer de moi tant qu'il vivrait, \u00e0 moins que je ne lui en donnasse\nl'ordre, et de verser \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 jusqu'\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re goutte de son sang\ns'il arrivait que ses compatriotes violassent en rien leur foi.\nIl m'assura qu'ils \u00e9taient touts des hommes tr\u00e8s-francs et\ntr\u00e8s-honn\u00eates, qu'ils \u00e9taient dans la plus grande d\u00e9tresse imaginable,\nd\u00e9nu\u00e9s d'armes et d'habits, et n'ayant d'autre nourriture que celle\nqu'ils tenaient de la piti\u00e9 et de la discr\u00e9tion des Sauvages; qu'ils\navaient perdu tout espoir de retourner jamais dans leur patrie, et qu'il\n\u00e9tait s\u00fbr, si j'entreprenais de les secourir, qu'ils voudraient vivre et\nmourir pour moi.\nSur ces assurances, je r\u00e9solus de tenter l'aventure et d'envoyer le\nvieux Sauvage et l'Espagnol pour traiter avec eux. Mais quand il eut\ntout pr\u00e9par\u00e9 pour son d\u00e9part, l'Espagnol lui-m\u00eame fit une objection qui\nd\u00e9celait tant de prudence d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 et tant de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 de l'autre, que\nje ne pus en \u00eatre que tr\u00e8s-satisfait; et, d'apr\u00e8s son avis, je diff\u00e9rai\nde six mois au moins la d\u00e9livrance de ses camarades. Voici le fait:\nIl y avait alors environ un mois qu'il \u00e9tait avec nous; et durant ce\ntemps je lui avais montr\u00e9 de quelle mani\u00e8re j'avais pourvu \u00e0 mes\nbesoins, avec l'aide de la Providence. Il connaissait parfaitement ce\nque j'avais amass\u00e9 de bl\u00e9 et de riz: c'\u00e9tait assez pour moi-m\u00eame; mais\nce n'\u00e9tait pas assez, du moins sans une grande \u00e9conomie, pour ma\nfamille, compos\u00e9e alors de quatre personnes; et, si ses compatriotes,\nqui \u00e9taient, disait-il, seize encore vivants, fussent survenus, cette\nprovision aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 plus qu'insuffisante, bien loin de pouvoir\navitailler notre vaisseau si nous en construisions un afin de passer \u00e0\nl'une des colonies chr\u00e9tiennes de l'Am\u00e9rique. Il me dit donc qu'il\ncroyait plus convenable que je permisse \u00e0 lui et au deux autres de\nd\u00e9fricher et de cultiver de nouvelles terres, d'y semer tout le grain\nque je pourrais \u00e9pargner, et que nous attendissions cette moisson, afin\nd'avoir un surcro\u00eet de bl\u00e9 quand viendraient ses compatriotes; car la\ndisette pourrait \u00eatre pour eux une occasion de quereller, ou de ne point\nse croire d\u00e9livr\u00e9s, mais tomb\u00e9s d'une mis\u00e8re dans une autre.--\u00abVous le\nsavez, dit-il, quoique les enfants d'Isra\u00ebl se r\u00e9jouirent d'abord de\nleur sortie de l'\u00c9gypte, cependant ils se r\u00e9volt\u00e8rent contre Dieu\nlui-m\u00eame, qui les avait d\u00e9livr\u00e9s, quand ils vinrent \u00e0 manquer de pain\ndans le d\u00e9sert.\u00bb\nSa pr\u00e9voyance \u00e9tait si sage et son avis si bon, que je fus aussi charm\u00e9\nde sa proposition que satisfait de sa fid\u00e9lit\u00e9. Nous nous m\u00eemes donc \u00e0\nlabourer touts quatre du mieux que nous permettaient les outils de bois\ndont nous \u00e9tions pourvus; et dans l'espace d'un mois environ, au bout\nduquel venait le temps des semailles, nous e\u00fbmes d\u00e9frich\u00e9 et pr\u00e9par\u00e9\nassez de terre pour semer vingt-deux boisseaux d'orge et seize jarres de\nriz, ce qui \u00e9tait, en un mot, tout ce que nous pouvions distraire de\nnotre grain; au fait, \u00e0 peine nous r\u00e9serv\u00e2mes-nous assez d'orge pour\nnotre nourriture durant les six mois que nous avions \u00e0 attendre notre\nr\u00e9colte, j'entends six mois \u00e0 partir du moment o\u00f9 nous e\u00fbmes mis \u00e0 part\nnotre grain destin\u00e9 aux semailles; car on ne doit pas supposer qu'il\ndemeure six mois en terre dans ce pays.\n\u00c9tant alors en assez nombreuse soci\u00e9t\u00e9 pour ne point redouter les\nSauvages, \u00e0 moins qu'ils ne vinssent en foule, nous allions librement\ndans toute l'\u00eele partout o\u00f9 nous en avions l'occasion; et, comme nous\navions touts l'esprit pr\u00e9occup\u00e9 de notre fuite ou de notre d\u00e9livrance,\nil \u00e9tait impossible, du moins \u00e0 moi, de ne pas songer aux moyens de\nl'accomplir. Dans cette vue, je marquai plusieurs arbres qui me\nparaissaient propres \u00e0 notre travail. Je chargeai Vendredi et son p\u00e8re\nde les abattre, et je pr\u00e9posai \u00e0 la surveillance et \u00e0 la direction de\nleur besogne l'Espagnol \u00e0 qui j'avais communiqu\u00e9 mes projets sur cette\naffaire. Je leur montrai avec quelles peines infatigables j'avais r\u00e9duit\nun gros arbre en simples planches, et je les priai d'en faire de m\u00eame\njusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils eussent fabriqu\u00e9 environ une douzaine de fortes\nplanches de bon ch\u00eane, de pr\u00e8s de deux pieds de large sur trente-cinq\npieds de long et de deux \u00e0 quatre pouces d'\u00e9paisseur. Je laisse \u00e0 penser\nquel prodigieux travail cela exigeait.\nEn m\u00eame temps je projetai d'accro\u00eetre autant que possible mon petit\ntroupeau de ch\u00e8vres apprivois\u00e9es, et \u00e0 cet effet un jour j'envoyais \u00e0 la\nchasse Vendredi et l'Espagnol, et le jour suivant j'y allais moi-m\u00eame\navec Vendredi, et ainsi tour \u00e0 tour. De cette mani\u00e8re nous attrap\u00e2mes\nune vingtaine de jeunes chevreaux pour les \u00e9lever avec les autres; car\ntoutes les fois que nous tirions sur une m\u00e8re, nous sauvions les cabris,\net nous les joignions \u00e0 notre troupeau. Mais la saison de s\u00e9cher les\nraisins \u00e9tant venue, j'en recueillis et suspendis au soleil une quantit\u00e9\ntellement prodigieuse, que, si nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 Alicante, o\u00f9 se\npr\u00e9parent les passerilles, nous aurions pu, je crois, remplir soixante\nou quatre-vingts barils. Ces raisins faisaient avec notre pain une\ngrande partie de notre nourriture, et un fort bon aliment, je vous\nassure, excessivement succulent.\nC'\u00e9tait alors la moisson, et notre r\u00e9colte \u00e9tait en bon \u00e9tat. Ce ne fut\npas la plus abondante que j'aie vue dans l'\u00eele, mais cependant elle\nl'\u00e9tait assez pour r\u00e9pondre \u00e0 nos fins. J'avais sem\u00e9 vingt-deux\nboisseaux d'orge, nous engrange\u00e2mes et batt\u00eemes environ deux cent vingt\nboisseaux, et le riz s'accrut dans la m\u00eame proportion; ce qui \u00e9tait bien\nassez pour notre subsistance jusqu'\u00e0 la moisson prochaine, quand bien\nm\u00eame touts les seize Espagnols eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 terre avec moi; et, si nous\neussions \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00eats pour notre voyage, cela aurait abondamment avitaill\u00e9\nnotre navire, pour nous transporter dans toutes les parties du monde,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire de l'Am\u00e9rique. Quand nous e\u00fbmes engrang\u00e9 et mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9\nnotre provision de grain, nous nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 faire de la vannerie,\nj'entends de grandes corbeilles, dans lesquelles nous la conserv\u00e2mes.\nL'Espagnol \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s-habile et tr\u00e8s-adroit \u00e0 cela, et souvent il me\nbl\u00e2mait de ce que je n'employais pas cette sorte d'ouvrage comme\ncl\u00f4ture; mais je n'en voyais pas la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9. Ayant alors un grand\nsurcro\u00eet de vivres pour touts les h\u00f4tes que j'attendais, je permis \u00e0\nl'Espagnol de passer en terre-ferme afin de voir ce qu'il pourrait\nn\u00e9gocier avec les compagnons qu'il y avait laiss\u00e9s derri\u00e8re lui. Je lui\ndonnai un ordre formel de ne ramener avec lui aucun homme qui n'e\u00fbt\nd'abord jur\u00e9 en sa pr\u00e9sence et en celle du vieux Sauvage que jamais il\nn'offenserait, combattrait ou attaquerait la personne qu'il trouverait\ndans l'\u00eele, personne assez bonne pour envoyer vers eux travailler \u00e0 leur\nd\u00e9livrance; mais, bien loin de l\u00e0! qu'il la soutiendrait et la\nd\u00e9fendrait contre tout attentat semblable, et que partout o\u00f9 elle irait\nil se soumettrait sans r\u00e9serve \u00e0 son commandement. Ceci devait \u00eatre\n\u00e9crit et sign\u00e9 de leur main. Comment, sur ce point, pourrions-nous \u00eatre\nsatisfaits, quand je n'ignorais pas qu'il n'avait ni plume ni encre? Ce\nfut une question que nous ne nous adress\u00e2mes jamais.\nMuni de ces instructions l'Espagnol et le vieux Sauvage,--le p\u00e8re de\nVendredi,--partirent dans un des canots sur lesquels on pourrait dire\nqu'ils \u00e9taient venus, ou mieux, avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 apport\u00e9s quand ils\narriv\u00e8rent comme prisonniers pour \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les Sauvages.\nJe leur donnai \u00e0 chacun un mousquet \u00e0 rouet et environ huit charges de\npoudre et de balles, en leur recommandant d'en \u00eatre tr\u00e8s-m\u00e9nagers et de\nn'en user que dans les occasions urgentes.\nTout ceci fut une agr\u00e9able besogne, car c'\u00e9taient les premi\u00e8res mesures\nque je prenais en vue de ma d\u00e9livrance depuis vingt-sept ans et quelques\njours.--Je leur donnai une provision de pain et de raisins secs\nsuffisante pour eux-m\u00eames pendant plusieurs jours et pour leurs\ncompatriotes pendant une huitaine environ, puis je les laissai partir,\nleur souhaitant un bon voyage et convenant avec eux qu'\u00e0 leur retour ils\nd\u00e9ploieraient certain signal par lequel, quand ils reviendraient, je les\nreconna\u00eetrais de loin, avant qu'ils n'atteignissent au rivage.\nD\u00c9BARQUEMENT DU CAPITAINE ANGLAIS\nIls s'\u00e9loign\u00e8rent avec une brise favorable le jour o\u00f9 la lune \u00e9tait dans\nson plein, et, selon mon calcul, dans le mois d'octobre. Quant au compte\nexact des jours, apr\u00e8s que je l'eus perdu une fois je ne pus jamais le\nretrouver; je n'avais pas m\u00eame gard\u00e9 assez ponctuellement le chiffre des\nann\u00e9es pour \u00eatre s\u00fbr qu'il \u00e9tait juste; cependant, quand plus tard je\nv\u00e9rifiai mon calcul, je reconnus que j'avais tenu un compte fid\u00e8le des\nann\u00e9es.\nIl n'y avait pas moins de huit jours que je les attendais, quand survint\nune aventure \u00e9trange et inopin\u00e9e dont la pareille est peut-\u00eatre inou\u00efe\ndans l'histoire.--J'\u00e9tais un matin profond\u00e9ment endormi dans ma _huche;_\ntout-\u00e0-coup mon serviteur Vendredi vint en courant vers moi et me\ncria:--\u00abMa\u00eetre, ma\u00eetre, ils sont venus! ils sont venus!\u00bb\nJe sautai \u00e0 bas du lit, et, ne pr\u00e9voyant aucun danger, je m'\u00e9lan\u00e7ai,\naussit\u00f4t que j'eus enfil\u00e9 mes v\u00eatements, \u00e0 travers mon petit bocage,\nqui, soit dit en passant, \u00e9tait alors devenu un bois tr\u00e8s-\u00e9pais. Je dis\nne pr\u00e9voyant aucun danger, car je sortis sans armes, contre ma coutume;\nmais je fus bien surpris quand, tournant mes yeux vers la mer,\nj'apper\u00e7us \u00e0 environ une lieue et demie de distance, une embarcation qui\nportait le cap sur mon \u00eele, avec une voile en _\u00e9paule de mouton,_ comme\non l'appelle, et \u00e0 la faveur d'un assez bon vent. Je remarquai aussi\ntout d'abord qu'elle ne venait point de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 o\u00f9 la terre \u00e9tait\nsitu\u00e9e, mais de la pointe la plus m\u00e9ridionale de l'\u00eele. L\u00e0-dessus\nj'appelai Vendredi et lui enjoignis de se tenir cach\u00e9, car ces gens\nn'\u00e9taient pas ceux que nous attendions, et nous ne savions pas encore\ns'ils \u00e9taient amis ou ennemis.\nVite je courus chercher ma longue vue, pour voir ce que j'aurais \u00e0\nfaire. Je dressai mon \u00e9chelle et je grimpai sur le sommet du rocher,\ncomme j'avais coutume de faire lorsque j'appr\u00e9hendais quelque chose et\nque je voulais planer au loin sans me d\u00e9couvrir.\n\u00c0 peine avais-je mis le pied sur le rocher, que mon \u0153il distingua\nparfaitement un navire \u00e0 l'ancre, \u00e0 environ deux lieues et demie de moi\nau Sud-Sud-Est, mais seulement \u00e0 une lieue et demie du rivage. Par mes\nobservations je reconnus, \u00e0 n'en pas douter, que le b\u00e2timent devait \u00eatre\nanglais, et l'embarcation une chaloupe anglaise.\nJe ne saurais exprimer le trouble o\u00f9 je tombai, bien que la joie de voir\nun navire, et un navire que j'avais raison de croire mont\u00e9 par mes\ncompatriotes, et par cons\u00e9quent des amis, f\u00fbt telle, que je ne puis la\nd\u00e9peindre. Cependant des doutes secrets dont j'ignorais la source\nm'enveloppaient et me commandaient de veiller sur moi. Je me pris\nd'abord \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer quelle affaire un vaisseau anglais pouvait avoir\ndans cette partie du monde, puisque ce n'\u00e9tait ni pour aller, ni pour\nrevenir, le chemin d'aucun des pays o\u00f9 l'Angleterre a quelque comptoir.\nJe savais qu'aucune temp\u00eate n'avait pu le faire d\u00e9river de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 en\n\u00e9tat de d\u00e9tresse. S'ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9ellement Anglais, il \u00e9tait donc plus\nque probable qu'ils ne venaient pas avec de bons desseins; et il valait\nmieux pour moi, demeurer comme j'\u00e9tais que de tomber entre les mains de\nvoleurs et de meurtriers.\nQue l'homme ne m\u00e9prise pas les pressentiments et les avertissements\nsecrets du danger qui parfois lui sont donn\u00e9s quand il ne peut entrevoir\nla possibilit\u00e9 de son existence r\u00e9elle. Que de tels pressentiments et\navertissements nous soient donn\u00e9s, je crois que peu de gens ayant fait\nquelque observation des choses puissent le nier; qu'ils soient les\nmanifestations certaines d'un monde invisible, et du commerce des\nesprits, on ne saurait non plus le mettre en doute. Et s'ils semblent\ntendre \u00e0 nous avertir du danger, pourquoi ne supposerions nous pas\nqu'ils nous viennent de quelque agent propice,--soit supr\u00eame ou\ninf\u00e9rieur et subordonn\u00e9, ce n'est pas l\u00e0 que g\u00eet la question,--et qu'ils\nnous sont donn\u00e9s pour notre bien?\nLe fait pr\u00e9sent me confirme fortement dans la justesse de ce\nraisonnement, car si je n'avais pas \u00e9t\u00e9 fait circonspect par cette\nsecr\u00e8te admonition, qu'elle vienne d'o\u00f9 elle voudra, j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9\nin\u00e9vitablement perdu, et dans une condition cent fois pire\nqu'auparavant, comme on le verra tout-\u00e0-l'heure.\nJe ne me tins pas long-temps dans cette position sans voir l'embarcation\napprocher du rivage, comme si elle cherchait une crique pour y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer\net accoster la terre commod\u00e9ment. Toutefois, comme elle ne remonta pas\ntout-\u00e0-fait assez loin, l'\u00e9quipage n'apper\u00e7ut pas la petite anse o\u00f9\nj'avais autrefois abord\u00e9 avec mes radeaux, et tira la chaloupe sur la\ngr\u00e8ve \u00e0 environ un demi-mille de moi; ce qui fut tr\u00e8s-heureux, car\nautrement il aurait pour ainsi dire d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 juste \u00e0 ma porte, m'aurait\neu bient\u00f4t arrach\u00e9 de mon ch\u00e2teau, et peut-\u00eatre m'aurait d\u00e9pouill\u00e9 de\ntout ce que j'avais.\nQuand ils furent sur le rivage, je me convainquis pleinement qu'ils\n\u00e9taient Anglais, au moins pour la plupart. Un ou deux me sembl\u00e8rent\nHollandais, mais cela ne se v\u00e9rifia pas. Il y avait en tout onze hommes,\ndont je trouvai que trois \u00e9taient sans armes et--autant que je pus\nvoir--garrott\u00e9s. Les premiers quatre ou cinq qui descendirent \u00e0 terre\nfirent sortir ces trois de la chaloupe, comme des prisonniers. Je pus\ndistinguer que l'un de ces trois faisait les gestes les plus passionn\u00e9s,\ndes gestes d'imploration, de douleur et de d\u00e9sespoir, allant jusqu'\u00e0 une\nsorte d'extravagance. Les deux autres, je le distinguai aussi, levaient\nquelquefois leurs mains au Ciel, et \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 paraissaient afflig\u00e9s,\nmais pas aussi profond\u00e9ment que le premier.\n\u00c0 cette vue je fus jet\u00e9 dans un grand trouble, et je ne savais quel\nserait le sens de tout cela.--Vendredi tout-\u00e0-coup s'\u00e9cria en anglais et\nde son mieux possible:--\u00d4 ma\u00eetre! vous voir hommes anglais manger\nprisonniers aussi bien qu'hommes sauvages!\u00bb--\u00abQuoi! dis-je \u00e0 Vendredi,\ntu penses qu'ils vont les manger?\u00bb--\u00abOui, r\u00e9pondit-il, eux vouloir les\nmanger.\u00bb--\u00abNon, non, r\u00e9pliquai-je: je redoute, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, qu'ils ne\nveuillent les assassiner, mais sois s\u00fbr qu'ils ne les mangeront pas.\u00bb\nDurant tout ce temps je n'eus aucune id\u00e9e de ce que r\u00e9ellement ce\npouvait \u00eatre; mais je demeurais tremblant d'horreur \u00e0 ce spectacle,\nm'attendant \u00e0 tout instant que les trois prisonniers seraient massacr\u00e9s.\nJe vis m\u00eame une fois un de ces sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats lever un grand coutelas ou\npoignard,--comme l'appellent les marins,--pour frapper un de ces\nmalheureux hommes. Je crus que c'\u00e9tait fait de lui, tout mon sang se\ngla\u00e7a dans mes veines.\nJe regrettais alors du fond du c\u0153ur notre Espagnol et le vieux Sauvage\nparti avec lui, et je souhaitais de trouver quelque moyen d'arriver\ninapper\u00e7u \u00e0 port\u00e9e de fusil de ces bandits pour d\u00e9livrer les trois\nhommes; car je ne leur voyais point d'armes \u00e0 feu. Mais un autre\nexp\u00e9dient se pr\u00e9senta \u00e0 mon esprit.\nApr\u00e8s avoir remarqu\u00e9 l'outrageux traitement fait aux trois prisonniers\npar l'insolent matelot, je vis que ses compagnons se dispers\u00e8rent par\ntoute l'\u00eele, comme s'ils voulaient reconna\u00eetre le pays. Je remarquai\naussi que les trois autres avaient la libert\u00e9 d'aller o\u00f9 il leur\nplairait; mais ils s'assirent touts trois \u00e0 terre, tr\u00e8s-mornes et l'\u0153il\nhagard comme des hommes au d\u00e9sespoir.\nCeci me fit souvenir du premier moment o\u00f9 j'abordai dans l'\u00eele et\ncommen\u00e7ai \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ma position. Je me rem\u00e9morai combien je me\ncroyais perdu, combien extravagamment je promenais mes regards autour de\nmoi, quelles terribles appr\u00e9hensions j'avais, et comment je me logeai\ndans un arbre toute la nuit, de peur d'\u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par les b\u00eates\nf\u00e9roces.\nDe m\u00eame que cette nuit-l\u00e0 je ne me doutais pas du secours que j'allais\nrecevoir du providentiel entra\u00eenement du vaisseau vers le rivage, par la\ntemp\u00eate et la mar\u00e9e, du vaisseau qui depuis me nourrit et m'entretint si\nlong-temps; de m\u00eame ces trois pauvres d\u00e9sol\u00e9s ne soup\u00e7onnaient pas\ncombien leur d\u00e9livrance et leur consolation \u00e9taient assur\u00e9es, combien\nelles \u00e9taient prochaines, et combien effectivement et r\u00e9ellement ils\n\u00e9taient en \u00e9tat de salut au moment m\u00eame o\u00f9 ils se croyaient perdus et\ndans un cas d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9.\nDonc nous voyons peu devant nous ici-bas. Donc avons-nous de puissantes\nraisons pour nous reposer avec joie sur le grand Cr\u00e9ateur du monde, qui\nne laisse jamais ses cr\u00e9atures dans un entier d\u00e9n\u00fbment. Elles ont\ntoujours dans les pires circonstances quelque motif de lui rendre\ngr\u00e2ces, et sont quelquefois plus pr\u00e8s de leur d\u00e9livrance qu'elles ne\nl'imaginent; souvent m\u00eame elles sont amen\u00e9es \u00e0 leur salut par les moyens\nqui leur semblaient devoir les conduire \u00e0 leur ruine.\nC'\u00e9tait justement au plus haut de la mar\u00e9e montante que ces gens \u00e9taient\nvenus \u00e0 terre; et, tant\u00f4t pourparlant avec leurs prisonniers, et tant\u00f4t\nr\u00f4dant pour voir dans quelle esp\u00e8ce de lieu ils avaient mis le pied, ils\ns'\u00e9taient amus\u00e9s n\u00e9gligemment jusqu'\u00e0 ce que la mar\u00e9e fut pass\u00e9e, et que\nl'eau se fut retir\u00e9e consid\u00e9rablement, laissant leur chaloupe \u00e9chou\u00e9e.\nIls l'avaient confi\u00e9e \u00e0 deux hommes qui, comme je m'en apper\u00e7us plus\ntard, ayant bu un peu trop d'eau-de-vie, s'\u00e9taient endormis. Cependant\nl'un d'eux se r\u00e9veillant plus t\u00f4t que l'autre et trouvant la chaloupe\ntrop ensabl\u00e9e pour la d\u00e9gager tout seul, se mit \u00e0 crier apr\u00e8s ses\ncamarades, qui erraient aux environs. Aussit\u00f4t ils accoururent; mais\ntouts leurs efforts pour la mettre \u00e0 flot furent inutiles: elle \u00e9tait\ntrop pesante, et le rivage de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 \u00e9tait une gr\u00e8ve molle et vaseuse,\npresque comme un sable mouvant.\nVoyant cela, en vrais marins, ce sont peut-\u00eatre les moins pr\u00e9voyants de\ntouts les hommes, ils pass\u00e8rent outre, et se remirent \u00e0 tr\u00f4ler \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0\ndans le pays. Puis j'entendis l'un d'eux crier \u00e0 un autre--, en\nl'engageant \u00e0 s'\u00e9loigner de la chaloupe--\u00abH\u00e9! Jack, peux-tu pas la\nlaisser tranquille? \u00e0 la prochaine mar\u00e9e elle flottera\u00bb.--Ces mots me\nconfirm\u00e8rent pleinement dans ma forte pr\u00e9somption qu'ils \u00e9taient mes\ncompatriotes.\nPendant tout ce temps je me tins \u00e0 couvert, je n'osai pas une seule fois\nsortir de mon ch\u00e2teau pour aller plus loin qu'\u00e0 mon lieu d'observation,\nsur le sommet du rocher, et tr\u00e8s-joyeux j'\u00e9tais en songeant combien ma\ndemeure \u00e9tait fortifi\u00e9e. Je savais que la chaloupe ne pourrait \u00eatre \u00e0\nflot avant dix heures, et qu'alors faisant sombre, je serais plus \u00e0 m\u00eame\nd'observer leurs mouvements et d'\u00e9couter leurs propos s'ils en tenaient.\nDans ces entrefaites je me pr\u00e9parai pour le combat comme autrefois, bien\nqu'avec plus de pr\u00e9cautions, sachant que j'avais affaire avec une tout\nautre esp\u00e8ce d'ennemis que par le pass\u00e9. J'ordonnai pareillement \u00e0\nVendredi, dont j'avais fait un excellent tireur, de se munir d'armes. Je\npris moi-m\u00eame deux fusils de chasse et je lui donnai trois mousquets. Ma\nfigure \u00e9tait vraiment farouche: j'avais ma formidable casaque de peau de\nch\u00e8vre, avec le grand bonnet que j'ai mentionn\u00e9, un sabre, deux\npistolets \u00e0 ma ceinture et un fusil sur chaque \u00e9paule.\nMon dessein \u00e9tait, comme je le disais tout-\u00e0-l'heure, de ne faire aucune\ntentative avant qu'il fit nuit; mais vers deux heures environ au plus\nchaud du jour je m'apper\u00e7us qu'en r\u00f4dant ils \u00e9taient touts all\u00e9s dans\nles bois, sans doute pour s'y coucher et dormir. Les trois pauvres\ninfortun\u00e9s, trop inquiets sur leur sort pour go\u00fbter le sommeil, \u00e9taient\ncependant \u00e9tendus \u00e0 l'ombre d'un grand arbre, \u00e0 environ un quart de\nmille de moi, et probablement hors de la vue des autres.\nSur ce, je r\u00e9solus de me d\u00e9couvrir \u00e0 eux et d'apprendre quelque chose de\nleur condition. Imm\u00e9diatement je me mis en marche dans l'\u00e9quipage que\nj'ai dit, mon serviteur Vendredi \u00e0 une bonne distance derri\u00e8re moi,\naussi formidablement arm\u00e9 que moi, mais ne faisant pas tout-\u00e0-fait une\nfigure de fant\u00f4me aussi effroyable que la mienne.\nOFFRES DE SERVICE\nJe me glissai inapper\u00e7u aussi pr\u00e8s qu'il me fut possible, et avant\nqu'aucun d'eux m'e\u00fbt d\u00e9couvert, je leur criai en espagnol:--\u00abQui\n\u00eates-vous, gentlemen?\u00bb\nIls se lev\u00e8rent \u00e0 ce bruit; mais ils furent deux fois plus troubl\u00e9s\nquand ils me virent, moi et la figure r\u00e9barbative que je faisais. Ils\nrest\u00e8rent muets et s'appr\u00eataient \u00e0 s'enfuir, quand je leur adressai la\nparole en anglais:--Gentlemen, dis-je, ne soyez point surpris de ma\nvenue; peut-\u00eatre avez-vous aupr\u00e8s de vous un ami, bien que vous ne vous\ny attendissiez pas\u00bb--\u00abIl faut alors qu'il soit envoy\u00e9 du Ciel, me\nr\u00e9pondit l'un d'eux tr\u00e8s-gravement, \u00f4tant en m\u00eame temps son chapeau, car\nnotre condition passe tout secours humain.\u00bb--\u00abTout secours vient du\nCiel, sir, r\u00e9pliquai-je. Mais ne pourriez-vous pas mettre un \u00e9tranger \u00e0\nm\u00eame de vous secourir, car vous semblez plong\u00e9 dans quelque grand\nmalheur? Je vous ai vu d\u00e9barquer; et, lorsque vous sembliez faire une\nsupplication \u00e0 ces brutaux qui sont venus avec vous,--j'ai vu l'un d'eux\nlever son sabre pour vous tuer.\u00bb\nLe pauvre homme, tremblant, la figure baign\u00e9e de larmes, et dans\nl'\u00e9bahissement, s'\u00e9cria:--\u00abParl\u00e9-je \u00e0 un Dieu ou \u00e0 un homme? En v\u00e9rit\u00e9,\n\u00eates-vous un homme ou un Ange?\u00bb--\u00abSoyez sans crainte, sir, r\u00e9pondis-je;\nsi Dieu avait envoy\u00e9 un Ange pour vous secourir, il serait venu mieux\nv\u00eatu et arm\u00e9 de toute autre fa\u00e7on que je ne suis. Je vous en prie,\nmettez de c\u00f4t\u00e9 vos craintes, je suis un homme, un Anglais pr\u00eat \u00e0 vous\nsecourir; vous le voyez, j'ai seulement un serviteur, mais nous avons\ndes armes et des munitions; dites franchement, pouvons-nous vous servir?\nDites quelle est votre infortune?\n--\u00abNotre infortune, sir, serait trop longue \u00e0 raconter tandis que nos\nassassins sont si proche. Mais bref, sir, je suis capitaine de ce\nvaisseau: mon \u00e9quipage s'est mutin\u00e9 contre moi, j'ai obtenu \u00e0 grande\npeine qu'il ne me tuerait pas, et enfin d'\u00eatre d\u00e9pos\u00e9 au rivage, dans ce\nlieu d\u00e9sert, ainsi que ces deux hommes; l'un est mon second et l'autre\nun passager. Ici nous nous attendions \u00e0 p\u00e9rir, croyant la place\ninhabit\u00e9e, et nous ne savons que penser de cela.\u00bb\n--\u00abO\u00f9 sont, lui dis-je, ces cruels, vos ennemis? savez-vous o\u00f9 ils sont\nall\u00e9s?\u00bb--\u00abIls sont l\u00e0, sir, r\u00e9pondit-il, montrant du doigt un fourr\u00e9\nd'arbres; mon c\u0153ur tremble de crainte qu'ils ne nous aient vus et qu'ils\nne vous aient entendu parler: si cela \u00e9tait, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr ils nous\nmassacreraient touts.\u00bb\n--\u00abOnt-ils des armes \u00e0 feu?\u00bb lui demandai-je.--\u00abDeux mousquets seulement\net un qu'ils ont laiss\u00e9 dans la chaloupe,\u00bb r\u00e9pondit-il.--. \u00abFort bien,\ndis-je, je me charge du reste; je vois qu'ils sont touts endormis, c'est\nchose facile que de les tuer touts. Mais ne vaudrait-il pas mieux les\nfaire prisonniers?\u00bb--Il me dit alors que parmi eux il y avait deux\nd\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s coquins \u00e0 qui il ne serait pas trop prudent de faire gr\u00e2ce;\nmais que, si on s'en assurait, il pensait que touts les autres\nretourneraient \u00e0 leur devoir. Je lui demandai lesquels c'\u00e9taient. Il me\ndit qu'\u00e0 cette distance il ne pouvait les indiquer, mais qu'il ob\u00e9irait\n\u00e0 mes ordres dans tout ce que je voudrais commander.--\u00abEh bien, dis-je,\nretirons-nous hors de leur vue et de leur port\u00e9e d'entendre, de peur\nqu'ils ne s'\u00e9veillent, et nous d\u00e9lib\u00e9rerons plus \u00e0 fond.\u00bb--Puis\nvolontiers ils s'\u00e9loign\u00e8rent avec moi jusqu'\u00e0 ce que les bois nous\neussent cach\u00e9s.\n--\u00abVoyez, sir, lui dis-je, si j'entreprends votre d\u00e9livrance, \u00eates-vous\npr\u00eat \u00e0 faire deux conditions avec moi?\u00bb Il pr\u00e9vint mes propositions en\nme d\u00e9clarant que lui et son vaisseau, s'il le recouvrait, seraient en\ntoutes choses enti\u00e8rement dirig\u00e9s et command\u00e9s par moi; et que, si le\nnavire n'\u00e9tait point repris, il vivrait et mourrait avec moi dans\nquelque partie du monde que je voulusse le conduire; et les deux autres\nhommes protest\u00e8rent de m\u00eame.\n--\u00abEh bien, dis-je, mes deux conditions les voici:\n\u00ab1\u00ba Tant que vous demeurerez dans cette \u00eele avec moi, vous ne pr\u00e9tendrez\nici \u00e0 aucune autorit\u00e9. Si je vous confie des armes, vous en viderez vos\nmains quand bon me semblera. Vous ne ferez aucun pr\u00e9judice ni \u00e0 moi ni\naux miens sur cette terre, et vous serez soumis \u00e0 mes ordres;\n\u00ab2\u00ba Si le navire est ou peut \u00eatre recouvr\u00e9, vous me transporterez\ngratuitement, moi et mon serviteur, en Angleterre.\u00bb\nIl me donna toutes les assurances que l'imagination et la bonne foi\nhumaines puissent inventer qu'il se soumettrait \u00e0 ces demandes\nextr\u00eamement raisonnables, et qu'en outre, comme il me devrait la vie, il\nle reconna\u00eetrait en toute occasion aussi long-temps qu'il vivrait.\n--\u00abEh bien, dis-je alors, voici trois mousquets pour vous, avec de la\npoudre et des balles; dites-moi maintenant ce que vous pensez convenable\nde faire.\u00bb Il me t\u00e9moigna toute la gratitude dont il \u00e9tait capable, mais\nil me demanda \u00e0 se laisser enti\u00e8rement guider par moi. Je lui dis que je\ncroyais l'affaire tr\u00e8s-chanceuse; que le meilleur parti, selon moi,\n\u00e9tait de faire feu sur eux tout d'un coup pendant qu'ils \u00e9taient\ncouch\u00e9s; que, si quelqu'un, \u00e9chappant \u00e0 notre premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge, voulait\nse rendre, nous pourrions le sauver, et qu'ainsi nous laisserions \u00e0 la\nprovidence de Dieu la direction de nos coups.\nIl me r\u00e9pliqua, avec beaucoup de mod\u00e9ration, qu'il lui f\u00e2chait de les\ntuer s'il pouvait faire autrement; mais que pour ces deux incorrigibles\nvauriens qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 les auteurs de toute la mutinerie dans le\nb\u00e2timent, s'ils \u00e9chappaient nous serions perdus; car ils iraient \u00e0 bord\net ram\u00e8neraient tout l'\u00e9quipage pour nous tuer.--\u00abCela \u00e9tant, dis-je, la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 confirme mon avis: c'est le seul moyen de sauver notre\nvie.\u00bb--Cependant, lui voyant toujours de l'aversion pour r\u00e9pandre le\nsang, je lui dis de s'avancer avec ses compagnons et d'agir comme ils le\njugeraient convenable.\nAu milieu de cet entretien nous en entend\u00eemes quelques-uns se r\u00e9veiller,\net bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s nous en v\u00eemes deux sur pieds. Je demandai au capitaine\ns'ils \u00e9taient les chefs de la mutinerie; il me r\u00e9pondit que non.--\u00abEh\nbien! Laissez-les se retirer, la Providence semble les avoir \u00e9veill\u00e9s \u00e0\ndessein de leur sauver la vie. Maintenant si les autres vous \u00e9chappent,\nc'est votre faute.\u00bb\nAnim\u00e9 par ces paroles, il prit \u00e0 la main le mousquet que je lui avais\ndonn\u00e9, un pistolet \u00e0 sa ceinture, et s'avan\u00e7a avec ses deux compagnons,\narm\u00e9s \u00e9galement chacun d'un fusil. Marchant devant, ces deux hommes\nfirent quelque bruit: un des matelots, qui s'\u00e9tait \u00e9veill\u00e9, se retourna,\net les voyant venir, il se mit \u00e0 appeler les autres; mais il \u00e9tait trop\ntard, car au moment o\u00f9 il cria ils firent feu,--j'entends les deux\nhommes,--le capitaine r\u00e9servant prudemment son coup. Ils avaient si bien\nvis\u00e9 les meneurs, qu'ils connaissaient, que l'un d'eux fut tu\u00e9 sur la\nplace, et l'autre gri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9. N'\u00e9tant point frapp\u00e9 \u00e0 mort, il se\ndressa sur ses pieds, et appela vivement \u00e0 son aide; mais le capitaine\nle joignit et lui dit qu'il \u00e9tait trop tard pour crier au secours, qu'il\nferait mieux de demander \u00e0 Dieu le pardon de son infamie; et \u00e0 ces mots\nil lui ass\u00e9na un coup de crosse qui lui coupa la parole \u00e0 jamais. De\ncette troupe il en restait encore trois, dont l'un \u00e9tait l\u00e9g\u00e8rement\nbless\u00e9. J'arrivai en ce moment; et quand ils virent leur danger et qu'il\nserait inutile de faire de la r\u00e9sistance, ils implor\u00e8rent mis\u00e9ricorde.\nLe capitaine leur dit:--\u00abJe vous accorderai la vie si vous voulez me\ndonner quelque assurance que vous prenez en horreur la trahison dont\nvous vous \u00eates rendus coupables, et jurez de m'aider fid\u00e8lement \u00e0\nrecouvrer le navire et \u00e0 le ramener \u00e0 la Jama\u00efque, d'o\u00f9 il vient.\u00bb--Ils\nlui firent toutes les protestations de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 qu'on pouvait d\u00e9sirer;\net, comme il inclinait \u00e0 les croire et \u00e0 leur laisser la vie sauve, je\nn'allai point \u00e0 l'encontre; je l'obligeai seulement \u00e0 les garder pieds\net mains li\u00e9s tant qu'ils seraient dans l'\u00eele.\nSur ces entrefaites j'envoyai Vendredi et le second du capitaine vers la\nchaloupe, avec ordre de s'en assurer, et d'emporter les avirons et la\nvoile; ce qu'ils firent. Aussit\u00f4t trois matelots r\u00f4dant, qui fort\nheureusement pour eux s'\u00e9taient \u00e9cart\u00e9s des autres, revinrent au bruit\ndes mousquets; et, voyant leur capitaine, de leur prisonnier qu'il\n\u00e9tait, devenu leur vainqueur, ils consentirent \u00e0 se laisser garrotter\naussi; et notre victoire fut compl\u00e8te.\nIl ne restait plus alors au capitaine et \u00e0 moi qu'\u00e0 nous ouvrir\nr\u00e9ciproquement sur notre position. Je commen\u00e7ai le premier, et lui\ncontai mon histoire enti\u00e8re, qu'il \u00e9couta avec une attention qui allait\njusqu'\u00e0 l'\u00e9bahissement, surtout la mani\u00e8re merveilleuse dont j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9\nfourni de vivres et de munitions. Et au fait, comme mon histoire est un\ntissu de prodiges, elle fit sur lui une profonde impression. Puis, quand\nil en vint \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur lui-m\u00eame, et que je semblais avoir \u00e9t\u00e9\npr\u00e9serv\u00e9 en ce lieu \u00e0 dessein de lui sauver la vie, des larmes coul\u00e8rent\nsur sa face, et il ne put prof\u00e9rer une parole.\nApr\u00e8s que cette conversation fut termin\u00e9e je le conduisis lui et ses\ndeux compagnons dans mon logis, o\u00f9 je les introduisis par mon issue,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire par le haut de la maison. L\u00e0, pour se rafra\u00eechir, je leur\noffris les provisions que je me trouvais avoir, puis je leur montrai\ntoutes les inventions dont je m'\u00e9tais ing\u00e9ni\u00e9 pendant mon long s\u00e9jour,\nmon bien long s\u00e9jour en ce lieu.\nTout ce que je leur faisais voir, tout ce que je leur disais excitait\nleur \u00e9tonnement. Mais le capitaine admira surtout mes fortifications, et\ncombien j'avais habilement masqu\u00e9 ma retraite par un fourr\u00e9 d'arbres. Il\ny avait alors pr\u00e8s de vingt ans qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 plant\u00e9; et, comme en ces\nr\u00e9gions la v\u00e9g\u00e9tation est beaucoup plus prompte qu'en Angleterre, il\n\u00e9tait devenu une petite for\u00eat si \u00e9paisse qu'elle \u00e9tait imp\u00e9n\u00e9trable de\ntoutes parts, except\u00e9 d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 o\u00f9 je m'\u00e9tais r\u00e9serv\u00e9 un petit passage\ntortueux. Je lui dis que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 mon ch\u00e2teau et ma r\u00e9sidence, mais\nque j'avais aussi, comme la plupart des princes, une maison de plaisance\n\u00e0 la campagne, o\u00f9 je pouvais me retirer dans l'occasion, et que je la\nlui montrerais une autre fois; mais que pour le pr\u00e9sent notre affaire\n\u00e9tait de songer aux moyens de recouvrer le vaisseau. Il en convint avec\nmoi, mais il m'avoua, qu'il ne savait vraiment quelles mesures\nprendre.--\u00abIl y a encore \u00e0 bord, dit-il, vingt-six hommes qui, ayant\ntremp\u00e9 dans une abominable conspiration, compromettant leur vie\nvis-\u00e0-vis de la loi, s'y opini\u00e2treront par d\u00e9sespoir et voudront pousser\nles choses \u00e0 bout; car ils n'ignorent pas que s'ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9duits ils\nseraient pendus en arrivant en Angleterre ou dans quelqu'une de ses\ncolonies. Nous sommes en trop petit nombre pour nous permettre de les\nattaquer.\u00bb\nJe r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis quelque temps sur cette objection, et j'en trouvai la\nconclusion tr\u00e8s-raisonnable. Il s'agissait donc d'imaginer promptement\nquelque stratag\u00e8me, aussi bien pour les faire tomber par surprise dans\nquelque pi\u00e9ge, que pour les emp\u00eacher de faire une descente sur nous et\nde nous exterminer. Il me vint incontinent \u00e0 l'esprit qu'avant peu les\ngens du navire, voulant savoir ce qu'\u00e9taient devenus leurs camarades et\nla chaloupe, viendraient assur\u00e9ment \u00e0 terre dans leur autre embarcation\npour les chercher, et qu'ils se pr\u00e9senteraient peut-\u00eatre arm\u00e9s et en\nforce trop sup\u00e9rieure pour nous. Le capitaine trouva ceci\ntr\u00e8s-plausible.\nL\u00e0-dessus je lui dis:--\u00abLa premi\u00e8re chose que nous avons \u00e0 faire est de\nnous assurer de la chaloupe qui g\u00eet sur la gr\u00e8ve, de telle sorte qu'ils\nne puissent la remmener; d'emporter tout ce qu'elle contient, et de la\nd\u00e9semparer, si bien qu'elle soit hors d'\u00e9tat de voguer.\u00bb En cons\u00e9quence\nnous all\u00e2mes \u00e0 la barque; nous pr\u00eemes les armes qui \u00e9taient rest\u00e9es \u00e0\nbord, et aussi tout ce que nous y trouv\u00e2mes, c'est-\u00e0-dire une bouteille\nd'eau de vie et une autre de _rum_, quelques biscuits, une corne \u00e0\npoudre et un grandissime morceau de sucre dans une pi\u00e8ce de canevas: il\ny en avait bien cinq ou six livres. Tout ceci fut le bien-venu pour moi,\nsurtout l'eau-de-vie et le sucre, dont je n'avais pas go\u00fbt\u00e9 depuis tant\nd'ann\u00e9es.\nTRANSLATION DES PRISONNIERS\nQuand nous e\u00fbmes port\u00e9 toutes ces choses \u00e0 terre,--les rames, le m\u00e2t, la\nvoile et le gouvernail avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 enlev\u00e9s auparavant, comme je l'ai\ndit,--nous f\u00eemes un grand trou au fond de la chaloupe, afin que, s'ils\nvenaient en assez grand nombre pour nous vaincre, ils ne pussent\ntoutefois la remmener.\n\u00c0 dire vrai, je ne me figurais gu\u00e8re que nous fussions capables de\nrecouvrer le navire; mais j'avais mon but. Dans le cas o\u00f9 ils\nrepartiraient sans la chaloupe, je ne doutais pas que je ne pusse la\nmettre en \u00e9tat de nous transporter aux \u00celes-sous-le-Vent et de\nrecueillir en chemin nos amis les Espagnols; car ils \u00e9taient toujours\npr\u00e9sents \u00e0 ma pens\u00e9e.\nAyant \u00e0 l'aide de nos forces r\u00e9unies tir\u00e9 la chaloupe si avant sur la\ngr\u00e8ve, que la mar\u00e9e haute ne p\u00fbt l'entra\u00eener, ayant fait en outre un\ntrou dans le fond, trop grand pour \u00eatre promptement rebouch\u00e9, nous nous\n\u00e9tions assis pour songer \u00e0 ce que nous avions \u00e0 faire; et, tandis que\nnous concertions nos plans, nous entend\u00eemes tirer un coup de canon, puis\nnous v\u00eemes le navire faire avec son pavillon comme un signal pour\nrappeler la chaloupe \u00e0 bord; mais la chaloupe ne bougea pas, et il se\nremit de plus belle \u00e0 tirer et \u00e0 lui adresser des signaux.\n\u00c0 la fin, quand il s'apper\u00e7ut que ses signaux et ses coups de canon\nn'aboutissaient \u00e0 rien et que la chaloupe ne se montrait pas, nous le\nv\u00eemes,--\u00e0 l'aide de mes longues-vues,--mettre \u00e0 la mer une autre\nembarcation qui nagea vers le rivage; et tandis qu'elle s'approchait\nnous reconn\u00fbmes qu'elle n'\u00e9tait pas mont\u00e9e par moins de dix hommes,\nmunis d'armes \u00e0 feu.\nComme le navire mouillait \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s \u00e0 deux lieues du rivage, nous e\u00fbmes\ntout le loisir, durant le trajet, d'examiner l'embarcation, ses hommes\nd'\u00e9quipage et m\u00eame leurs figures; parce que, la mar\u00e9e les ayant fait\nd\u00e9river un peu \u00e0 l'Est de l'autre chaloupe, ils long\u00e8rent le rivage pour\nvenir \u00e0 la m\u00eame place o\u00f9 elle avait abord\u00e9 et o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait gisante.\nDe cette fa\u00e7on, dis-je, nous e\u00fbmes tout le loisir de les examiner. Le\ncapitaine connaissait la physionomie et le caract\u00e8re de touts les hommes\nqui se trouvaient dans l'embarcation; il m'assura qu'il y avait parmi\neux trois honn\u00eates gar\u00e7ons, qui, domin\u00e9s et effray\u00e9s, avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nassur\u00e9ment entra\u00een\u00e9s dans le complot par les autres.\nMais quant au ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage, qui semblait \u00eatre le principal\nofficier, et quant \u00e0 tout le reste, ils \u00e9taient aussi dangereux que qui\nque ce f\u00fbt du b\u00e2timent, et devaient sans aucun doute agir en d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s\ndans leur nouvelle entreprise. Enfin il redoutait v\u00e9h\u00e9mentement qu'ils\nne fussent trop forts pour nous.\nJe me pris \u00e0 sourire, et lui dis que des gens dans notre position\n\u00e9taient au-dessus de la crainte; que, puisque \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s toutes les\nconditions possibles \u00e9taient meilleures que celle o\u00f9 nous semblions\n\u00eatre, nous devions accueillir toute cons\u00e9quence r\u00e9sultante, soit vie ou\nmort, comme un affranchissement. Je lui demandai ce qu'il pensait des\ncirconstances de ma vie, et si ma d\u00e9livrance n'\u00e9tait pas chose digne\nd'\u00eatre tent\u00e9e.--\u00abEt qu'est devenue, sir, continuai-je, votre cr\u00e9ance que\nj'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 conserv\u00e9 ici \u00e0 dessein de vous sauver la vie, cr\u00e9ance qui\nvous avait exalt\u00e9 il y a peu de temps? Pour ma part, je ne vois qu'une\nchose malencontreuse dans toute cette affaire.\u00bb--\u00abEh quelle est-elle?\u00bb\ndit-il.--\u00abC'est, r\u00e9pondis-je, qu'il y a parmi ces gens, comme vous\nl'avez dit, trois ou quatre honn\u00eates gar\u00e7ons qu'il faudrait \u00e9pargner.\nS'ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 touts le rebut de l'\u00e9quipage, j'aurais cru que la\nprovidence de Dieu les avait s\u00e9par\u00e9s pour les livrer entre nos mains;\ncar faites fond l\u00e0-dessus: tout homme qui mettra le pied sur le rivage\nsera n\u00f4tre, et vivra ou mourra suivant qu'il agira envers nous.\u00bb\nCes paroles, prononc\u00e9es d'une voix ferme et d'un air enjou\u00e9, lui\nredonn\u00e8rent du courage, et nous nous m\u00eemes vigoureusement \u00e0 notre\nbesogne. D\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re apparence d'une embarcation venant du navire,\nnous avions song\u00e9 \u00e0 \u00e9carter nos prisonniers, et, au fait, nous nous en\n\u00e9tions parfaitement assur\u00e9s.\nIl y en avait deux dont le capitaine \u00e9tait moins s\u00fbr que des autres: je\nles fis conduire par Vendredi et un des trois hommes d\u00e9livr\u00e9s \u00e0 ma\ncaverne, o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient assez \u00e9loign\u00e9s et hors de toute possibilit\u00e9\nd'\u00eatre entendus ou d\u00e9couverts, ou de trouver leur chemin pour sortir des\nbois s'ils parvenaient \u00e0 se d\u00e9barrasser eux-m\u00eames. L\u00e0 ils les laiss\u00e8rent\ngarrott\u00e9s, mais ils leur donn\u00e8rent quelques provisions, et leur\npromirent que, s'ils y demeuraient tranquillement, on leur rendrait leur\nlibert\u00e9 dans un jour ou deux; mais que, s'ils tentaient de s'\u00e9chapper,\nils seraient mis \u00e0 mort sans mis\u00e9ricorde. Ils protest\u00e8rent sinc\u00e8rement\nqu'ils supporteraient leur emprisonnement avec patience, et parurent\ntr\u00e8s-reconnaissants de ce qu'on les traitait si bien, qu'ils avaient des\nprovisions et de la lumi\u00e8re; car Vendredi leur avait donn\u00e9 pour leur\nbien-\u00eatre quelques-unes de ces chandelles que nous faisions\nnous-m\u00eames.--Ils avaient la persuasion qu'il se tiendrait en sentinelle\n\u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e de la caverne.\nLes autres prisonniers \u00e9taient mieux trait\u00e9s: deux d'entre eux, \u00e0 la\nv\u00e9rit\u00e9, avaient les bras li\u00e9s, parce que le capitaine n'osait pas trop\ns'y fier; mais les deux autres avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 pris \u00e0 mon service, sur la\nrecommandation du capitaine et sur leur promesse solemnelle de vivre et\nde mourir avec nous. Ainsi, y compris ceux-ci et les trois braves\ngar\u00e7ons, nous \u00e9tions sept hommes bien arm\u00e9s; et je ne mettais pas en\ndoute que nous ne pussions venir \u00e0 bout des dix arrivants, consid\u00e9rant\nsurtout ce que le capitaine avait dit, qu'il y avait trois ou quatre\nhonn\u00eates hommes parmi eux.\nAussit\u00f4t qu'ils atteignirent \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 gisait leur autre\nembarcation, ils pouss\u00e8rent la leur sur la gr\u00e8ve et mirent pied \u00e0 terre\nen la h\u00e2lant apr\u00e8s eux; ce qui me fit grand plaisir \u00e0 voir: car j'avais\ncraint qu'ils ne la laissassent \u00e0 l'ancre, \u00e0 quelque distance du rivage,\navec du monde dedans pour la garder, et qu'ainsi il nous f\u00fbt impossible\nde nous en emparer.\nUne fois \u00e0 terre, la premi\u00e8re chose qu'ils firent, ce fut de courir\ntouts \u00e0 l'autre embarcation; et il fut ais\u00e9 de voir qu'ils tomb\u00e8rent\ndans une grande surprise en la trouvant d\u00e9pouill\u00e9e,--comme il a \u00e9t\u00e9\ndit,--de tout ce qui s'y trouvait et avec un grand trou dans le fond.\nApr\u00e8s avoir pendant quelque temps r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi sur cela, ils pouss\u00e8rent de\ntoutes leurs forces deux ou trois grands cris pour essayer s'ils ne\npourraient point se faire entendre de leurs compagnons; mais c'\u00e9tait\npeine inutile. Alors ils se serr\u00e8rent touts en cercle et firent une\nsalve de mousqueterie; nous l'entend\u00eemes, il est vrai les \u00e9chos en\nfirent retentir les bois, mais ce fut tout. Les prisonniers qui \u00e9taient\ndans la caverne, nous en \u00e9tions s\u00fbrs, ne pouvaient entendre, et ceux en\nnotre garde, quoiqu'ils entendissent tr\u00e8s-bien, n'avaient pas toutefois\nla hardiesse de r\u00e9pondre.\nIls furent si \u00e9tonn\u00e9s et si atterr\u00e9s de ce silence, qu'ils r\u00e9solurent,\ncomme ils nous le dirent plus tard, de se rembarquer pour retourner vers\nle navire, et de raconter que leurs camarades avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 massacr\u00e9s et\nleur chaloupe d\u00e9fonc\u00e9e. En cons\u00e9quence ils lanc\u00e8rent imm\u00e9diatement leur\nesquif et remont\u00e8rent touts \u00e0 bord.\n\u00c0 cette vue le capitaine fut terriblement surpris et m\u00eame stup\u00e9fi\u00e9; il\npensait qu'ils allaient rejoindre le navire et mettre \u00e0 la voile,\nregardant leurs compagnons comme perdus; et qu'ainsi il lui fallait\nd\u00e9cid\u00e9ment perdre son navire, qu'il avait eu l'esp\u00e9rance de recouvrer.\nMais il eut bient\u00f4t une tout autre raison de se d\u00e9concerter.\n\u00c0 peine s'\u00e9taient-ils \u00e9loign\u00e9s que nous les v\u00eemes revenir au rivage mais\navec de nouvelles mesures de conduite, sur lesquelles sans doute ils\navaient d\u00e9lib\u00e9r\u00e9, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'ils laiss\u00e8rent trois hommes dans\nl'embarcation, et que les autres descendirent \u00e0 terre et s'enfonc\u00e8rent\ndans le pays pour chercher leurs compagnons.\nCe fut un grand d\u00e9sappointement pour nous, et nous en \u00e9tions \u00e0 ne savoir\nque faire; car nous saisir des sept hommes qui se trouvaient \u00e0 terre ne\nserait d'aucun avantage si nous laissions \u00e9chapper le bateau; parce\nqu'il regagnerait le navire, et qu'alors \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr le reste de\nl'\u00e9quipage l\u00e8verait l'ancre et mettrait \u00e0 la voile, de sorte que nous\nperdrions le b\u00e2timent sans retour.\nCependant il n'y avait d'autre rem\u00e8de que d'attendre et de voir ce\nqu'offrirait l'issue des choses.--Apr\u00e8s que les sept hommes furent\ndescendus \u00e0 terre, les trois hommes rest\u00e9s dans l'esquif remont\u00e8rent \u00e0\nune bonne distance du rivage, et mirent \u00e0 l'ancre pour les attendre.\nAinsi il nous \u00e9tait impossible de parvenir jusqu'\u00e0 eux.\nCeux qui avaient mis pied \u00e0 terre se tenaient serr\u00e9s touts ensemble et\nmarchaient vers le sommet de la petite \u00e9minence au-dessous de laquelle\n\u00e9tait situ\u00e9e mon habitation, et nous les pouvions voir parfaitement sans\nen \u00eatre apper\u00e7us. Nous aurions \u00e9t\u00e9 enchant\u00e9s qu'ils vinssent plus pr\u00e8s\nde nous, afin de faire feu dessus, ou bien qu'ils s'\u00e9loignassent\ndavantage pour que nous pussions nous-m\u00eames nous d\u00e9busquer.\nQuand ils furent parvenus sur le versant de la colline d'o\u00f9 ils\npouvaient planer au loin sur les vall\u00e9es et les bois qui s'\u00e9tendaient au\nNord-Ouest, dans la partie la plus basse de l'\u00eele, ils se mirent \u00e0\nappeler et \u00e0 crier jusqu'\u00e0 n'en pouvoir plus. L\u00e0, n'osant pas sans doute\ns'aventurer loin du rivage, ni s'\u00e9loigner l'un de l'autre, ils\ns'assirent touts ensemble sous un arbre pour d\u00e9lib\u00e9rer. S'ils avaient\ntrouv\u00e9 bon d'aller l\u00e0 pour s'y endormir, comme avait fait la premi\u00e8re\nbande, c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 notre affaire; mais ils \u00e9taient trop remplis de\nl'appr\u00e9hension du danger pour s'abandonner au sommeil, bien\nqu'assur\u00e9ment ils ne pussent se rendre compte de l'esp\u00e8ce de p\u00e9ril\nqu'ils avaient \u00e0 craindre.\nLe capitaine fit une ouverture fort sage au sujet de leur\nd\u00e9lib\u00e9ration.--\u00abIls vont peut-\u00eatre, disait-il, faire une nouvelle salve\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale pour t\u00e2cher de se faire entendre de leurs compagnons; fondons\ntouts sur eux juste au moment o\u00f9 leurs mousquets seront d\u00e9charg\u00e9s; \u00e0\ncoup s\u00fbr ils demanderont quartier, et nous nous en rendrons ma\u00eetres sans\neffusion de sang.\u00bb--J'approuvai cette proposition, pourvu qu'elle f\u00fbt\nex\u00e9cut\u00e9e lorsque nous serions assez pr\u00e8s d'eux pour les assaillir avant\nqu'ils eussent pu recharger leurs armes.\nMais le cas pr\u00e9vu n'advint, pas, et nous demeur\u00e2mes encore long-temps\nfort irr\u00e9solus sur le parti \u00e0 prendre. Enfin je dis \u00e0 mon monde que mon\nopinion \u00e9tait qu'il n'y avait rien \u00e0 faire avant la nuit; qu'alors,\ns'ils n'\u00e9taient pas retourn\u00e9s \u00e0 leur embarcation, nous pourrions\npeut-\u00eatre trouver moyen de nous jeter entre eux et le rivage, et quelque\nstratag\u00e8me pour attirer \u00e0 terre ceux rest\u00e9s dans l'esquif.\nNous avions attendu fort long-temps, quoique tr\u00e8s-impatients de les voir\ns'\u00e9loigner et fort mal \u00e0 notre aise, quand, apr\u00e8s d'interminables\nconsultations, nous les v\u00eemes touts se lever et descendre vers la mer.\nIl para\u00eet que de si terribles appr\u00e9hensions du danger de cette place\npesaient sur eux, qu'ils avaient r\u00e9solu de regagner le navire, pour\nannoncer \u00e0 bord la perte de leurs compagnons, et poursuivre leur voyage\nprojet\u00e9.\nSit\u00f4t que je les apper\u00e7us se diriger vers le rivage, j'imaginai,--et\ncela \u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement,--qu'ils renon\u00e7aient \u00e0 leurs recherches et se\nd\u00e9cidaient \u00e0 s'en retourner. \u00c0 cette seule appr\u00e9hension le capitaine, \u00e0\nqui j'avais communiqu\u00e9 cette pens\u00e9e, fut pr\u00e8s de tomber en d\u00e9faillance;\nmais, sur-le-champ, pour les faire revenir sur leurs pas, je m'avisai\nd'un stratag\u00e8me qui r\u00e9pondit compl\u00e8tement \u00e0 mon but.\nJ'ordonnai \u00e0 Vendredi et au second du capitaine d'aller de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde la crique \u00e0 l'Ouest, vers l'endroit o\u00f9 \u00e9taient parvenus les Sauvages\nlorsque je sauvai Vendredi; sit\u00f4t qu'ils seraient arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 une petite\nbutte distante d'un demi-mille environ, je leur recommandai de crier\naussi fort qu'ils pourraient, et d'attendre jusqu'\u00e0 ce que les matelots\nles eussent entendus; puis, d\u00e8s que les matelots leur auraient r\u00e9pondu,\nde rebrousser chemin, et alors, se tenant hors de vue, r\u00e9pondant\ntoujours quand les autres appelleraient, de prendre un d\u00e9tour pour les\nattirer au milieu des bois, aussi avant dans l'\u00eele que possible; puis\nenfin de revenir vers moi par certaines routes que je leur indiquai.\nLA CAPITULATION\nIls \u00e9taient justement sur le point d'entrer dans la chaloupe, quand\nVendredi et le second se mirent \u00e0 crier. Ils les entendirent aussit\u00f4t,\net leur r\u00e9pondirent tout en courant le long du rivage \u00e0 l'Ouest, du c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde la voix qu'ils avaient entendue; mais tout-\u00e0-coup ils furent arr\u00eat\u00e9s\npar la crique. Les eaux \u00e9tant hautes, ils ne pouvaient traverser, et\nfirent venir la chaloupe pour les passer sur l'autre bord comme je\nl'avais pr\u00e9vu.\nQuand ils eurent travers\u00e9, je remarquai que, la chaloupe ayant \u00e9t\u00e9\nconduite assez avant dans la crique, et pour ainsi dire dans un port,\nils prirent avec eux un des trois hommes qui la montaient, et n'en\nlaiss\u00e8rent seulement que deux, apr\u00e8s l'avoir amarr\u00e9e au tronc d'un petit\narbre sur le rivage.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 ce que je souhaitais. Laissant Vendredi et le second du\ncapitaine \u00e0 leur besogne, j'emmenai sur-le-champ les autres avec moi,\net, me rendant en tapinois au-del\u00e0 de la crique, nous surpr\u00eemes les deux\nmatelots avant qu'ils fussent sur leurs gardes, l'un couch\u00e9 sur le\nrivage, l'autre dans la chaloupe. Celui qui se trouvait \u00e0 terre flottait\nentre le sommeil et le r\u00e9veil; et, comme il allait se lever, le\ncapitaine, qui \u00e9tait le plus avanc\u00e9, courut sur lui, l'assomma, et cria\n\u00e0 l'autre, qui \u00e9tait dans l'esquif:--\u00abRends-toi ou tu es mort.\u00bb\nIl ne fallait pas beaucoup d'arguments pour soumettre un seul homme, qui\nvoyait cinq hommes contre lui et son camarade \u00e9tendu mort. D'ailleurs\nc'\u00e9tait, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, un des trois matelots qui avaient pris moins\nde part \u00e0 la mutinerie que le reste de l'\u00e9quipage. Aussi non-seulement\nil se d\u00e9cida facilement \u00e0 se rendre, mais dans la suite il se joignit\nsinc\u00e8rement \u00e0 nous.\nDans ces entrefaites Vendredi et le second du capitaine gouvern\u00e8rent si\nbien leur affaire avec les autres mutins qu'en criant et r\u00e9pondant, ils\nles entra\u00een\u00e8rent d'une colline \u00e0 une autre et d'un bois \u00e0 un autre,\njusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils les eussent horriblement fatigu\u00e9s, et ils ne les\nlaiss\u00e8rent que lorsqu'ils furent certains qu'ils ne pourraient regagner\nla chaloupe avant la nuit. Ils \u00e9taient eux-m\u00eames harass\u00e9s quand ils\nrevinrent aupr\u00e8s de nous.\nIl ne nous restait alors rien autre \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 les \u00e9pier dans\nl'obscurit\u00e9, pour fondre sur eux et en avoir bon march\u00e9.\nCe ne fut que plusieurs heures apr\u00e8s le retour de Vendredi qu'ils\narriv\u00e8rent \u00e0 leur chaloupe; mais long-temps auparavant nous p\u00fbmes\nentendre les plus avanc\u00e9s crier aux tra\u00eeneurs de se h\u00e2ter, et ceux-ci\nr\u00e9pondre et se plaindre qu'ils \u00e9taient las et \u00e9clopp\u00e9s et ne pouvaient\nmarcher plus vite: fort heureuse nouvelle pour nous.\nEnfin ils atteignirent la chaloupe.--il serait impossible de d\u00e9crire\nquelle fut leur stup\u00e9faction quand ils virent qu'elle \u00e9tait ensabl\u00e9e\ndans la crique, que la mar\u00e9e s'\u00e9tait retir\u00e9e et que leurs deux\ncompagnons avaient disparu. Nous les entendions s'appeler l'un l'autre\nde la fa\u00e7on la plus lamentable, et se dire entre eux qu'ils \u00e9taient dans\nune \u00eele ensorcel\u00e9e; que, si elle \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e par des hommes, ils\nseraient touts massacr\u00e9s; que si elle l'\u00e9tait par des d\u00e9mons ou des\nesprits, ils seraient touts enlev\u00e9s et d\u00e9vor\u00e9s.\nIls se mirent \u00e0 crier de nouveau, et appel\u00e8rent un grand nombre de fois\nleurs deux camarades par leurs noms; mais point de r\u00e9ponse. Un moment\napr\u00e8s nous pouvions les voir, \u00e0 la faveur du peu de jour qui restait,\ncourir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 en se tordant les mains comme des hommes au d\u00e9sespoir.\nTant\u00f4t ils allaient s'asseoir dans la chaloupe pour se reposer, tant\u00f4t\nils en sortaient pour r\u00f4der de nouveau sur le rivage, et pendant assez\nlong-temps dura ce man\u00e9ge.\nMes gens auraient bien d\u00e9sir\u00e9 que je leur permisse de tomber brusquement\nsur eux dans l'obscurit\u00e9; mais je ne voulais les assaillir qu'avec\navantage, afin de les \u00e9pargner et d'en tuer le moins que je pourrais. Je\nvoulais surtout n'exposer aucun de mes hommes \u00e0 la mort, car je savais\nl'ennemi bien arm\u00e9. Je r\u00e9solus donc d'attendre pour voir s'ils ne se\ns\u00e9pareraient point; et, \u00e0 dessein de m'assurer d'eux, je fis avancer mon\nembuscade, et j'ordonnai \u00e0 Vendredi et au capitaine de se glisser \u00e0\nquatre pieds, aussi \u00e0 plat ventre qu'il leur serait possible, pour ne\npas \u00eatre d\u00e9couverts, et de s'approcher d'eux le plus qu'ils pourraient\navant de faire feu.\nIl n'y avait pas long-temps qu'ils \u00e9taient dans cette posture quand le\nma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le principal meneur de la r\u00e9volte, et\nqui se montrait alors le plus l\u00e2che et le plus abattu de touts, tourna\nses pas de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, avec deux autres de la bande. Le capitaine \u00e9tait\ntellement anim\u00e9 en sentant ce principal vaurien si bien en son pouvoir,\nqu'il avait \u00e0 peine la patience de le laisser assez approcher pour le\nfrapper \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr; car jusque l\u00e0 il n'avait qu'entendu sa voix; et, d\u00e8s\nqu'ils furent \u00e0 sa port\u00e9e, se dressant subitement sur ses pieds, ainsi\nque Vendredi, ils firent feu dessus.\nLe ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage fut tu\u00e9 sur la place; un autre fut atteint au corps\net tomba pr\u00e8s de lui, mais il n'expira qu'une ou deux heures apr\u00e8s; le\ntroisi\u00e8me prit la fuite.\n\u00c0 cette d\u00e9tonation, je m'approchai imm\u00e9diatement avec toute mon arm\u00e9e,\nqui \u00e9tait alors de huit hommes, savoir: moi, g\u00e9n\u00e9ralissime; Vendredi,\nmon lieutenant-g\u00e9n\u00e9ral; le capitaine et ses deux compagnons, et les\ntrois prisonniers de guerre auxquels il avait confi\u00e9 des armes.\nNous nous avan\u00e7\u00e2mes sur eux dans l'obscurit\u00e9, de sorte qu'on ne pouvait\njuger de notre nombre.--J'ordonnai au matelot qu'ils avaient laiss\u00e9 dans\nla chaloupe, et qui \u00e9tait alors un des n\u00f4tres, de les appeler par leurs\nnoms, afin d'essayer si je pourrais les amener \u00e0 parlementer, et par l\u00e0\npeut-\u00eatre \u00e0 des termes d'accommodement;--ce qui nous r\u00e9ussit \u00e0\nsouhait;--car il \u00e9tait en effet naturel de croire que, dans l'\u00e9tat o\u00f9\nils \u00e9taient alors, ils capituleraient tr\u00e8s-volontiers. Ce matelot se mit\ndonc \u00e0 crier de toute sa force \u00e0 l'un d'entre eux:--\u00abTom Smith! Tom\nSmith!\u00bb--Tom Smith r\u00e9pondit aussit\u00f4t:--\u00abEst-ce toi, Robinson?\u00bb--Car il\npara\u00eet qu'il avait reconnu sa voix.--\u00abOui, oui, reprit l'autre. Au nom\nde Dieu, Tom Smith, mettez bas les armes et rendez-vous, sans quoi vous\n\u00eates touts morts \u00e0 l'instant.\u00bb\n--\u00c0 qui faut-il nous rendre? r\u00e9pliqua Smith; o\u00f9 sont-ils?\u00bb--\u00abIls sont\nici, dit Robinson: c'est notre capitaine avec cinquante hommes qui vous\npourchassent depuis deux heures. Le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage est tu\u00e9, Will Frye\nbless\u00e9, et moi je suis prisonnier. Si vous ne vous rendez pas, vous \u00eates\ntouts perdus.\u00bb\n--\u00abNous donnera-t-on quartier? dit Tom Smith, si nous nous\nrendons?\u00bb--\u00abJe vais le demander, si vous promettez de vous rendre,\u00bb\nr\u00e9pondit Robinson.--Il s'adressa donc au capitaine, et le capitaine\nlui-m\u00eame se mit alors \u00e0 crier:--\u00abToi, Smith, tu connais ma voix; si vous\nd\u00e9posez imm\u00e9diatement les armes et vous soumettez, vous aurez touts la\nvie sauve, hormis WILL ATKINS.\u00bb\nSur ce, WILL ATKINS s'\u00e9cria:--Au nom de Dieu! capitaine, donnez-moi\nquartier! Qu'ai-je fait? Ils sont touts aussi coupables que moi.\u00bb--Ce\nqui, au fait, n'\u00e9tait pas vrai; car il para\u00eet que ce WILL ATKINS avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 le premier \u00e0 se saisir du capitaine au commencement de la r\u00e9volte,\net qu'il l'avait cruellement maltrait\u00e9 en lui liant les mains et en\nl'accablant d'injures. Quoi qu'il en f\u00fbt, le capitaine le somma de se\nrendre \u00e0 discr\u00e9tion et de se confier \u00e0 la mis\u00e9ricorde du gouverneur:\nc'est moi dont il entendait parler, car ils m'appelaient touts\ngouverneur.\nBref, ils d\u00e9pos\u00e8rent touts les armes et demand\u00e8rent la vie; et j'envoyai\npour les garrotter l'homme qui avait parlement\u00e9 avec deux de ses\ncompagnons. Alors ma grande arm\u00e9e de cinquante d'hommes, laquelle, y\ncompris les trois en d\u00e9tachement, se composait en tout de huit hommes,\ns'avan\u00e7a et fit main basse sur eux et leur chaloupe. Mais je me tins\navec un des miens hors de leur vue, pour des raisons d'\u00c9tat.\nNotre premier soin fut de r\u00e9parer la chaloupe et de songer \u00e0 recouvrer\nle vaisseau. Quant au capitaine, il eut alors le loisir de pourparler\navec ses prisonniers. Il leur reprocha l'infamie de leurs proc\u00e9d\u00e9s \u00e0 son\n\u00e9gard, et l'atrocit\u00e9 de leur projet, qui, assur\u00e9ment, les aurait\nconduits enfin \u00e0 la mis\u00e8re et \u00e0 l'opprobre, et peut-\u00eatre \u00e0 la potence.\nIls parurent touts fort repentants et implor\u00e8rent la vie. Il leur\nr\u00e9pondit l\u00e0-dessus qu'ils n'\u00e9taient pas ses prisonniers, mais ceux du\ngouverneur de l'\u00eele; qu'ils avaient cru le jeter sur le rivage d'une \u00eele\nst\u00e9rile et d\u00e9serte, mais qu'il avait plu \u00e0 Dieu de les diriger vers une\n\u00eele habit\u00e9e, dont le gouverneur \u00e9tait Anglais, et pouvait les y faire\npendre touts, si tel \u00e9tait son plaisir; mais que, comme il leur avait\ndonn\u00e9 quartier, il supposait qu'il les enverrait en Angleterre pour y\n\u00eatre trait\u00e9s comme la justice le requ\u00e9rait, hormis ATKINS, \u00e0 qui le\ngouverneur lui avait enjoint de dire de se pr\u00e9parer \u00e0 la mort, car il\nserait pendu le lendemain matin.\nQuoique tout ceci ne f\u00fbt qu'une fiction de sa part, elle produisit\ncependant tout l'effet d\u00e9sir\u00e9. ATKINS se jeta \u00e0 genoux et supplia le\ncapitaine d'interc\u00e9der pour lui aupr\u00e8s du gouverneur, et touts les\nautres le conjur\u00e8rent au nom de Dieu, afin de n'\u00eatre point envoy\u00e9s en\nAngleterre.\nIl me vint alors \u00e0 l'esprit que le moment de notre d\u00e9livrance \u00e9tait\nvenu, et que ce serait une chose tr\u00e8s-facile que d'amener ces gens \u00e0\ns'employer de tout c\u0153ur \u00e0 recouvrer le vaisseau. Je m'\u00e9loignai donc dans\nl'ombre pour qu'ils ne pussent voir quelle sorte de gouverneur ils\navaient, et j'appelai \u00e0 moi le capitaine. Quand j'appelai, comme si\nj'\u00e9tais \u00e0 une bonne distance, un de mes hommes re\u00e7ut l'ordre de parler \u00e0\nson tour, et il dit au capitaine:--\u00abCapitaine, le commandant vous\nappelle.\u00bb--Le capitaine r\u00e9pondit aussit\u00f4t:--\u00abDites \u00e0 son Excellence que\nje viens \u00e0 l'instant.\u00bb--Ceci les trompa encore parfaitement, et ils\ncrurent touts que le gouverneur \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0 avec ses cinquante\nhommes.\nQuand le capitaine vint \u00e0 moi, je lui communiquai mon projet pour la\nprise du vaisseau. Il le trouva parfait, et r\u00e9solut de le mettre \u00e0\nex\u00e9cution le lendemain.\nMais, pour l'ex\u00e9cuter avec plus d'artifice et en assurer le succ\u00e8s, je\nlui dis qu'il fallait que nous s\u00e9parassions les prisonniers, et qu'il\npr\u00eet ATKINS et deux autres d'entre les plus mauvais, pour les envoyer,\nbras li\u00e9s, \u00e0 la caverne o\u00f9 \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 les autres. Ce soin fut remis \u00e0\nVendredi et aux deux hommes qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s avec le capitaine.\nIls les emmen\u00e8rent \u00e0 la caverne comme \u00e0 une prison; et c'\u00e9tait au fait\nun horrible lieu, surtout pour des hommes dans leur position.\nJe fis conduire les autres \u00e0 ma tonnelle, comme je l'appelais, et dont\nj'ai donn\u00e9 une description compl\u00e8te. Comme elle \u00e9tait enclose, et qu'ils\navaient les bras li\u00e9s, la place \u00e9tait assez s\u00fbre, attendu que de leur\nconduite d\u00e9pendait leur sort.\n\u00c0 ceux-ci dans la matin\u00e9e j'envoyai le capitaine pour entrer en\npourparler avec eux; en un mot, les \u00e9prouver et me dire s'il pensait\nqu'on p\u00fbt ou non se fier \u00e0 eux pour aller \u00e0 bord et surprendre le\nnavire. Il leur parla de l'outrage qu'ils lui avaient fait, de la\ncondition dans laquelle ils \u00e9taient tomb\u00e9s, et leur dit que, bien que le\ngouverneur leur e\u00fbt donn\u00e9 quartier actuellement, ils seraient \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr\nmis au gibet si on les envoyait en Angleterre; mais que s'ils voulaient\ns'associer \u00e0 une entreprise aussi loyale que celle de recouvrer le\nvaisseau, il aurait du gouverneur la promesse de leur gr\u00e2ce.\nOn devine avec quelle h\u00e2te une semblable proposition fut accept\u00e9e par\ndes hommes dans leur situation. Ils tomb\u00e8rent aux genoux du capitaine,\net promirent avec les plus \u00e9nergiques impr\u00e9cations qu'ils lui seraient\nfid\u00e8les jusqu'\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re goutte de leur sang; que, lui devant la vie,\nils le suivraient en touts lieux, et qu'ils le regarderaient comme leur\np\u00e8re tant qu'ils vivraient.\n--\u00abBien, reprit le capitaine; je m'en vais reporter au gouverneur ce que\nvous m'avez dit, et voir ce que je puis faire pour l'amener \u00e0 donner son\nconsentement.\u00bb--Il vint donc me rendre compte de l'\u00e9tat d'esprit dans\nlequel il les avait trouv\u00e9s, et m'affirma qu'il croyait vraiment qu'ils\nseraient fid\u00e8les.\nREPRISE DU NAVIRE\nN\u00e9anmoins, pour plus de s\u00fbret\u00e9, je le priai de retourner vers eux, d'en\nchoisir cinq, et de leur dire, pour leur donner \u00e0 penser qu'on n'avait\npas besoin d'hommes, qu'il n'en prenait que cinq pour l'aider, et que\nles deux autres et les trois qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 envoy\u00e9s prisonniers au\nch\u00e2teau,--ma caverne,--le gouverneur voulait les garder comme otages,\npour r\u00e9pondre de la fid\u00e9lit\u00e9 de ces cinq; et que, s'ils se montraient\nperfides dans l'ex\u00e9cution, les cinq otages seraient tout vifs accroch\u00e9s\n\u00e0 un gibet sur le rivage.\nCeci parut s\u00e9v\u00e8re, et les convainquit que c'\u00e9tait chose s\u00e9rieuse que le\ngouverneur. Toutefois ils ne pouvaient qu'accepter, et ce fut alors\nautant l'affaire des prisonniers que celle du capitaine d'engager les\ncinq autres \u00e0 faire leur devoir.\nVoici quel \u00e9tait l'\u00e9tat de nos forces pour l'exp\u00e9dition: 1\u00ba le\ncapitaine, son second et le passager; 2\u00ba les deux prisonniers de la\npremi\u00e8re escouade, auxquels, sur les renseignements du capitaine,\nj'avais donn\u00e9 la libert\u00e9 et confi\u00e9 des armes; 3\u00ba les deux autres, que\nj'avais tenus jusqu'alors garrott\u00e9s dans ma tonnelle, et que je venais\nde rel\u00e2cher, \u00e0 la sollicitation du capitaine; 4\u00ba les cinq \u00e9largis en\ndernier: ils \u00e9taient donc douze en tout, outre les cinq que nous tenions\nprisonniers dans la caverne comme otages.\nJe demandai au capitaine s'il voulait avec ce monde risquer l'abordage\ndu navire. Quant \u00e0 moi et mon serviteur Vendredi, je ne pensai pas qu'il\nf\u00fbt convenable que nous nous \u00e9loignassions, ayant derri\u00e8re nous sept\nhommes captifs. C'\u00e9tait bien assez de besogne pour nous que de les\ngarder \u00e0 l'\u00e9cart, et de les fournir de vivres.\nQuant aux cinq de la caverne, je r\u00e9solus de les tenir s\u00e9questr\u00e9s; mais\nVendredi allait deux fois par jour pour leur donner le n\u00e9cessaire.\nJ'employais les deux autres \u00e0 porter les provisions \u00e0 une certaine\ndistance, o\u00f9 Vendredi devait les prendre.\nLorsque je me montrai aux deux premiers otages, ce fut avec le\ncapitaine, qui leur dit que j'\u00e9tais la personne que le gouverneur avait\nd\u00e9sign\u00e9e pour veiller sur eux; que le bon plaisir du gouverneur \u00e9tait\nqu'ils n'allassent nulle part sans mon autorisation; et que, s'ils le\nfaisaient, ils seraient transf\u00e9r\u00e9s au ch\u00e2teau et mis aux fers. Ne leur\nayant jamais permis de me voir comme gouverneur, je jouais donc pour\nlors un autre personnage, et leur parlais du gouverneur, de la garnison,\ndu ch\u00e2teau et autres choses semblables, en toute occasion.\nLe capitaine n'avait plus d'autre difficult\u00e9 devant lui que de gr\u00e9er les\ndeux chaloupes, de reboucher celle d\u00e9fonc\u00e9e, et de les \u00e9quiper. Il fit\nson passager, capitaine de l'une avec quatre hommes, et lui-m\u00eame, son\nsecond et cinq matelots mont\u00e8rent dans l'autre. Ils concert\u00e8rent\ntr\u00e8s-bien leurs plans, car ils arriv\u00e8rent au navire vers le milieu de la\nnuit. Aussit\u00f4t qu'ils en furent \u00e0 port\u00e9e de la voix, le capitaine\nordonna \u00e0 Robinson de h\u00e9ler et de leur dire qu'ils ramenaient les hommes\net la chaloupe, mais qu'ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bien long-temps avant de les\ntrouver, et autres choses semblables. Il jasa avec eux jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils\neussent accost\u00e9 le vaisseau. Alors le capitaine et son second, avec\nleurs armes, se jetant les premiers \u00e0 bord, assomm\u00e8rent sur-le-champ \u00e0\ncoups de crosse de mousquet le bosseman et le charpentier; et,\nfid\u00e8lement second\u00e9s par leur monde, ils s'assuraient de touts ceux qui\n\u00e9taient sur le pont et le gaillard d'arri\u00e8re, et commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 fermer\nles \u00e9coutilles pour emp\u00eacher de monter ceux qui \u00e9taient en bas, quand\nles gens de l'autre embarcation, abordant par les porte-haubans de\nmisaine, s'empar\u00e8rent du gaillard d'avant et de l'\u00e9coutillon[26] qui\ndescendait \u00e0 la cuisine, o\u00f9 trois hommes qui s'y trouvaient furent faits\nprisonniers.\nCeci fait, tout \u00e9tant en s\u00fbret\u00e9 sur le pont, le capitaine ordonna \u00e0 son\nsecond de forcer avec trois hommes la chambre du Conseil, o\u00f9 \u00e9tait post\u00e9\nle nouveau capitaine rebelle, qui, ayant eu quelque alerte, \u00e9tait mont\u00e9\net avait pris les armes avec deux matelots et un mouce[27]. Quand le\nsecond eut effondr\u00e9 la porte avec une pince, le nouveau capitaine et ses\nhommes firent hardiment feu sur eux. Une balle de mousquet atteignit le\nsecond et lui cassa le bras, deux autres matelots furent aussi bless\u00e9s,\nmais personne ne fut tu\u00e9.\nLe second, appelant \u00e0 son aide, se pr\u00e9cipita cependant, tout bless\u00e9\nqu'il \u00e9tait, dans la chambre du Conseil, et d\u00e9chargea son pistolet \u00e0\ntravers la t\u00eate du nouveau capitaine. Les balles entr\u00e8rent par la\nbouche, ressortirent derri\u00e8re l'oreille et le firent taire \u00e0 jamais.\nL\u00e0-dessus le reste se rendit, et le navire fut r\u00e9ellement repris sans\nqu'aucun autre perd\u00eet la vie.\nAussit\u00f4t que le b\u00e2timent fut ainsi recouvr\u00e9, le capitaine ordonna de\ntirer sept coups de canon, signal dont il \u00e9tait convenu avec moi pour me\ndonner avis de son succ\u00e8s. Je vous laisse \u00e0 penser si je fus aise de les\nentendre, ayant veill\u00e9 tout expr\u00e8s sur le rivage jusqu'\u00e0 pr\u00e8s de deux\nheures du matin.\nApr\u00e8s avoir parfaitement entendu le signal, je me couchai; et, comme\ncette journ\u00e9e avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pour moi tr\u00e8s-fatigante, je dormis profond\u00e9ment\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que je fus r\u00e9veill\u00e9 en sursaut par un coup de canon. Je me\nlevai sur-le-champ, et j'entendis quelqu'un m'appeler:--\u00abGouverneur,\ngouverneur!\u00bb--Je reconnus de suite la voix du capitaine, et je grimpai\nsur le haut du rocher o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait mont\u00e9. Il me re\u00e7ut dans ses bras, et,\nme montrant du doigt le b\u00e2timent:--\u00abMon cher ami et lib\u00e9rateur, me\ndit-il, voil\u00e0 votre navire; car il est tout \u00e0 vous, ainsi que nous et\ntout ce qui lui appartient.\u00bb Je jetai les yeux sur le vaisseau. Il \u00e9tait\nmouill\u00e9 \u00e0 un peu plus d'un demi-mille du rivage; car ils avaient\nappareill\u00e9 d\u00e8s qu'ils en avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 ma\u00eetres; et, comme il faisait beau,\nils \u00e9taient venus jeter l'ancre \u00e0 l'embouchure de la petite crique;\npuis, \u00e0 la faveur de la mar\u00e9e haute, le capitaine amenant la pinace pr\u00e8s\nde l'endroit o\u00f9 j'avais autrefois abord\u00e9 avec mes radeaux, il avait\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e9 juste \u00e0 ma porte.\nJe fus d'abord sur le point de m'\u00e9vanouir de surprise; car je voyais\npositivement ma d\u00e9livrance dans mes mains, toutes choses faciles, et un\ngrand b\u00e2timent pr\u00eat \u00e0 me transporter s'il me plaisait de partir. Pendant\nquelque temps je fus incapable de r\u00e9pondre un seul mot; mais, comme le\ncapitaine m'avait pris dans ses bras, je m'appuyai fortement sur lui,\nsans quoi je serais tomb\u00e9 par terre.\nIl s'apper\u00e7ut de ma d\u00e9faillance, et, tirant vite une bouteille de sa\npoche, me fit boire un trait d'une liqueur cordiale qu'il avait apport\u00e9e\nexpr\u00e8s pour moi. Apr\u00e8s avoir bu, je m'assis \u00e0 terre; et, quoique cela\nm'e\u00fbt rappel\u00e9 \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame, je fus encore long-temps sans pouvoir lui dire\nun mot.\nCependant le pauvre homme \u00e9tait dans un aussi grand ravissement que moi,\nseulement il n'\u00e9tait pas comme moi sous le coup de la surprise. Il me\ndisait mille bonnes et tendres choses pour me calmer et rappeler mes\nsens. Mais il y avait un tel gonflement de joie dans ma poitrine, que\nmes esprits \u00e9taient plong\u00e9s dans la confusion; enfin il d\u00e9bonda par des\nlarmes, et peu apr\u00e8s je recouvrai la parole.\nAlors je l'\u00e9treignis \u00e0 mon tour, je l'embrassai comme mon lib\u00e9rateur, et\nnous nous abandonn\u00e2mes \u00e0 la joie. Je lui dis que je le regardais comme\nun homme envoy\u00e9 par le Ciel pour me d\u00e9livrer; que toute cette affaire me\nsemblait un encha\u00eenement de prodiges; que de telles choses \u00e9taient pour\nnous un t\u00e9moignage que la main cach\u00e9e d'une Providence gouverne\nl'univers et une preuve \u00e9vidente que l'\u0153il d'une puissance infinie sait\np\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans les coins les plus recul\u00e9s du monde et envoyer aide aux\nmalheureux toutes fois et quantes qu'il lui pla\u00eet.\nJe n'oubliai pas d'\u00e9lever au Ciel mon c\u0153ur reconnaissant. Et quel c\u0153ur\naurait pu se d\u00e9fendre de le b\u00e9nir, _Celui_ qui non-seulement avait d'une\nfa\u00e7on miraculeuse pourvu aux besoins d'un homme dans un semblable d\u00e9sert\net dans un pareil abandon, mais de qui, il faut incessamment le\nreconna\u00eetre, toute d\u00e9livrance proc\u00e8de!\nQuand nous e\u00fbmes jas\u00e9 quelque temps, le capitaine me dit qu'il m'avait\napport\u00e9 tels petits rafra\u00eechissements que pouvait fournir le b\u00e2timent,\net que les mis\u00e9rables qui en avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 si long-temps ma\u00eetres n'avaient\npas gaspill\u00e9s. Sur ce il appela les gens de la pinace et leur ordonna\nd'apporter \u00e0 terre les choses destin\u00e9es au gouverneur. C'\u00e9tait\nr\u00e9ellement un pr\u00e9sent comme pour quelqu'un qui n'e\u00fbt pas d\u00fb s'en aller\navec eux, comme si j'eusse d\u00fb toujours demeurer dans l'\u00eele, et comme\ns'ils eussent d\u00fb partir sans moi.\nPremi\u00e8rement il m'avait apport\u00e9 un coffret \u00e0 flacons plein d'excellentes\neaux cordiales, six grandes bouteilles de vin de Mad\u00e8re, de la\ncontenance de deux quartes, deux livres de tr\u00e8s-bon tabac, douze grosses\npi\u00e8ces de b\u0153uf sal\u00e9 et six pi\u00e8ces de porc, avec un sac de pois et\nenviron cent livres de biscuit.\nIl m'apporta aussi une caisse de sucre, une caisse de fleur de farine,\nun sac plein de citrons, deux bouteilles de jus de limon et une foule\nd'autres choses. Outre cela, et ce qui m'\u00e9tait mille fois plus utile, il\najouta six chemises toutes neuves, six cravates fort bonnes, deux paires\nde gants, une paire de souliers, un chapeau, une paire de bas, et un\ntr\u00e8s-bon habillement complet qu'il n'avait que tr\u00e8s-peu port\u00e9. En un\nmot, il m'\u00e9quipa des pieds \u00e0 la t\u00eate.\nComme on l'imagine, c'\u00e9tait un bien doux et bien agr\u00e9able pr\u00e9sent pour\nquelqu'un dans ma situation. Mais jamais costume au monde ne fut aussi\nd\u00e9plaisant, aussi \u00e9trange, aussi incommode que le furent pour moi ces\nhabits les premi\u00e8res fois que je m'en affublai.\nApr\u00e8s ces c\u00e9r\u00e9monies, et quand toutes ces bonnes choses furent\ntransport\u00e9es dans mon petit logement, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 nous consulter\nsur ce que nous avions \u00e0 faire de nos prisonniers; car il \u00e9tait\nimportant de consid\u00e9rer si nous pouvions ou non risquer de les prendre\navec nous, surtout les deux d'entre eux que nous savions \u00eatre\nincorrigibles et intraitables au dernier degr\u00e9. Le capitaine me dit\nqu'il les connaissait pour des vauriens tels qu'il n'y avait pas \u00e0 les\ndomter, et que s'il les emmenait, ce ne pourrait \u00eatre que dans les fers,\ncomme des malfaiteurs, afin de les livrer aux mains de la justice \u00e0 la\npremi\u00e8re colonie anglaise qu'il atteindrait. Je m'apper\u00e7us que le\ncapitaine lui-m\u00eame en \u00e9tait fort chagrin.\nAussi lui dis-je que, s'il le souhaitait, j'entreprendrais d'amener les\ndeux hommes en question \u00e0 demander eux-m\u00eames d'\u00eatre laiss\u00e9s dans\nl'\u00eele.--\u00abJ'en serais aise, r\u00e9pondit-il, de tout mon c\u0153ur.\u00bb\n--\u00abBien, je vais les envoyer chercher, et leur parler de votre\npart.\u00bb--Je commandai donc \u00e0 Vendredi et aux deux otages, qui pour lors\n\u00e9taient lib\u00e9r\u00e9s, leurs camarades ayant accompli leur promesse, je leur\nordonnai donc, dis-je, d'aller \u00e0 la caverne, d'emmener les cinq\nprisonniers, garrott\u00e9s comme ils \u00e9taient, \u00e0 ma tonnelle, et de les y\ngarder jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je vinsse.\nQuelque temps apr\u00e8s je m'y rendis v\u00eatu de mon nouveau costume, et je fus\nalors derechef appel\u00e9 gouverneur. Touts \u00e9tant r\u00e9unis, et le capitaine\nm'accompagnant, je fis amener les prisonniers devant moi, et je leur dis\nque j'\u00e9tais parfaitement instruit de leur inf\u00e2me conduite envers le\ncapitaine, et de leur projet de faire la course avec le navire et\nd'exercer le brigandage; mais que la Providence les avait enlac\u00e9s dans\nleurs propres pi\u00e9ges, et qu'il \u00e9taient tomb\u00e9s dans la fosse qu'ils\navaient creus\u00e9e pour d'autres.\nJe leur annon\u00e7ai que, par mes instructions, le navire avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nrecouvr\u00e9, qu'il \u00e9tait pour lors dans la rade, et que tout-\u00e0-l'heure ils\nverraient que leur nouveau capitaine avait re\u00e7u le prix de sa trahison,\ncar ils le verraient pendu au bout d'une vergue.\nD\u00c9PART DE L'\u00ceLE\nJe les priai de me dire, quant \u00e0 eux, ce qu'ils avaient \u00e0 all\u00e9guer pour\nque je ne les fisse pas ex\u00e9cuter comme des pirates pris sur le fait,\nainsi qu'ils ne pouvaient douter que ma commission m'y autoris\u00e2t.\nUn d'eux me r\u00e9pondit au nom de touts qu'ils n'avaient rien \u00e0 dire, sinon\nque lorsqu'ils s'\u00e9taient rendus le capitaine leur avait promis la vie,\net qu'ils imploraient humblement ma mis\u00e9ricorde.--\u00abJe ne sais quelle\ngr\u00e2ce vous faire, leur repartis-je: moi, j'ai r\u00e9solu de quitter l'\u00eele\navec mes hommes, je m'embarque avec le capitaine pour retourner en\nAngleterre; et lui, le capitaine, ne peut vous emmener que prisonniers,\ndans les fers, pour \u00eatre jug\u00e9s comme r\u00e9volt\u00e9s et comme forbans, ce qui,\nvous ne l'ignorez pas, vous conduirait droit \u00e0 la potence. Je\nn'entrevois rien de meilleur pour vous, \u00e0 moins que vous n'ayez envie\nd'achever votre destin en ce lieu. Si cela vous convient, comme il m'est\nloisible de le quitter, je ne m'y oppose pas; je me sens m\u00eame quelque\npenchant \u00e0 vous accorder la vie si vous pensez pouvoir vous accommoder\nde cette \u00eele.\u00bb--Ils parurent tr\u00e8s-reconnaissants, et me d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent\nqu'ils pr\u00e9f\u00e9reraient se risquer \u00e0 demeurer en ce s\u00e9jour plut\u00f4t que\nd'\u00eatre transf\u00e9r\u00e9s en Angleterre pour \u00eatre pendus: je tins cela pour dit.\nN\u00e9anmoins le capitaine parut faire quelques difficult\u00e9s, comme s'il\nredoutait de les laisser. Alors je fis semblant de me f\u00e2cher contre lui,\net je lui dis qu'ils \u00e9taient mes prisonniers et non les siens; que,\npuisque je leur avais offert une si grande faveur, je voulais \u00eatre aussi\nbon que ma parole; que s'il ne jugeait point \u00e0 propos d'y consentir je\nles remettrais en libert\u00e9, comme je les avais trouv\u00e9s; permis \u00e0 lui de\nles reprendre, s'il pouvait les attraper.\nL\u00e0-dessus ils me t\u00e9moign\u00e8rent beaucoup de gratitude, et moi,\ncons\u00e9quemment, je les fis mettre en libert\u00e9; puis je leur dis de se\nretirer dans les bois, au lieu m\u00eame d'o\u00f9 ils venaient, et que je leur\nlaisserais des armes \u00e0 feu, des munitions, et quelques instructions\nn\u00e9cessaires pour qu'ils v\u00e9cussent tr\u00e8s-bien si bon leur semblait.\nAlors je me disposai \u00e0 me rendre au navire. Je dis n\u00e9anmoins au\ncapitaine que je resterais encore cette nuit pour faire mes pr\u00e9paratifs,\net que je d\u00e9sirais qu'il retourn\u00e2t cependant \u00e0 son bord pour y maintenir\nle bon ordre, et qu'il m'envoy\u00e2t la chaloupe \u00e0 terre le lendemain. Je\nlui recommandai en m\u00eame temps de faire pendre au taquet d'une vergue le\nnouveau capitaine, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9, afin que nos bannis pussent le\nvoir.\nQuand le capitaine fut parti, je fis venir ces hommes \u00e0 mon logement, et\nj'entamai avec eux un grave entretien sur leur position. Je leur dis\nque, selon moi, ils avaient fait un bon choix; que si le capitaine les\nemmenait, ils seraient assur\u00e9ment pendus. Je leur montrai leur capitaine\n\u00e0 eux flottant au bout d'une vergue, et je leur d\u00e9clarai qu'ils\nn'auraient rien moins que cela \u00e0 attendre.\nQuand ils eurent touts manifest\u00e9 leur bonne disposition \u00e0 rester, je\nleur dis que je voulais les initier \u00e0 l'histoire de mon existence en\ncette \u00eele, et les mettre \u00e0 m\u00eame de rendre la leur agr\u00e9able.\nCons\u00e9quemment je leur fis tout l'historique du lieu et de ma venue en ce\nlieu. Je leur montrai mes fortifications; je leur indiquai la mani\u00e8re\ndont je faisais mon pain, plantais mon bl\u00e9 et pr\u00e9parais mes raisins; en\nun mot je leur enseignai tout ce qui \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire pour leur\nbien-\u00eatre. Je leur contai l'histoire des seize Espagnols qu'ils avaient\n\u00e0 attendre, pour lesquels je laissais une lettre, et je leur fis\npromettre de fraterniser avec eux[28].\nJe leur laissai mes armes \u00e0 feu, nomm\u00e9ment cinq mousquets et trois\nfusils de chasse, de plus trois \u00e9p\u00e9es, et environ un baril de poudre que\nj'avais de reste; car apr\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re et la deuxi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e j'en usais\npeu et n'en gaspillais point.\nJe leur donnai une description de ma mani\u00e8re de gouverner mes ch\u00e8vres,\net des instructions pour les traire et les engraisser, et pour faire du\nbeurre et du fromage.\nEn un mot je leur mis \u00e0 jour chaque partie de ma propre histoire, et\nleur donnai l'assurance que j'obtiendrais du capitaine qu'il leur\nlaiss\u00e2t deux barils de poudre \u00e0 canon en plus, et quelques semences de\nl\u00e9gumes, que moi-m\u00eame, leur dis-je, je me serais estim\u00e9 fort heureux\nd'avoir. Je leur abandonnai aussi le sac de pois que le capitaine\nm'avait apport\u00e9 pour ma consommation, et je leur recommandai de les\nsemer, qu'immanquablement ils multiplieraient.\nCeci fait, je pris cong\u00e9 d'eux le jour suivant, et m'en allai \u00e0 bord du\nnavire. Nous nous dispos\u00e2mes imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 la voile, mais\nnous n'appareill\u00e2mes que de nuit. Le lendemain matin, de tr\u00e8s-bonne\nheure, deux des cinq exil\u00e9s rejoignirent le b\u00e2timent \u00e0 la nage, et, se\nplaignant tr\u00e8s-lamentablement des trois autres bannis, demand\u00e8rent au\nnom de Dieu \u00e0 \u00eatre pris \u00e0 bord, car ils seraient assassin\u00e9s. Ils\nsuppli\u00e8rent le capitaine de les accueillir, dussent-ils \u00eatre pendus\nsur-le-champ.\n\u00c0 cela le capitaine pr\u00e9tendit ne pouvoir rien sans moi; mais apr\u00e8s\nquelques difficult\u00e9s, mais apr\u00e8s de leur part une solemnelle promesse\nd'amendement, nous les re\u00e7\u00fbmes \u00e0 bord. Quelque temps apr\u00e8s ils furent\nfouett\u00e9s et ch\u00e2ti\u00e9s d'importance; d\u00e8s lors ils se montr\u00e8rent de fort\ntranquilles et de fort honn\u00eates compagnons.\nEnsuite, \u00e0 mar\u00e9e haute, j'allai au rivage avec la chaloupe charg\u00e9e des\nchoses promises aux exil\u00e9s, et auxquelles, \u00e0 mon intercession, le\ncapitaine avait donn\u00e9 l'ordre qu'on ajout\u00e2t leurs coffres et leurs\nv\u00eatements, qu'ils re\u00e7urent avec beaucoup de reconnaissance. Pour les\nencourager je leur dis que s'il ne m'\u00e9tait point impossible de leur\nenvoyer un vaisseau pour les prendre, je ne les oublierais pas.\nQuand je pris cong\u00e9 de l'\u00eele j'emportai \u00e0 bord, comme reliques, le grand\nbonnet de peau de ch\u00e8vre que je m'\u00e9tais fabriqu\u00e9, mon parasol et un de\nmes perroquets. Je n'oubliai pas de prendre l'argent dont autrefois je\nfis mention, lequel \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 si long-temps inutile qu'il s'\u00e9tait\nterni et noirci; \u00e0 peine aurait-il pu passer pour de l'argent avant\nd'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 quelque peu frott\u00e9 et mani\u00e9. Je n'oubliai pas non plus celui\nque j'avais trouv\u00e9 dans les d\u00e9bris du vaisseau espagnol.\nC'estainsi que j'abandonnai mon \u00eele le dix-neuf d\u00e9cembre mil six cent\nquatre-vingt-six, selon le calcul du navire, apr\u00e8s y \u00eatre demeur\u00e9\nvingt-huit ans deux mois et dix-neuf jours. De cette seconde captivit\u00e9\nje fus d\u00e9livr\u00e9 le m\u00eame jour du mois que je m'\u00e9tais enfui jadis dans le\nbarco-longo, de chez les Maures de Sall\u00e9.\nSur ce navire, au bout d'un long voyage, j'arrivai en Angleterre le 11\njuin de l'an 1687, apr\u00e8s une absence de trente-cinq ann\u00e9es.\nNOTES:\n[1] L'explication de Petrus Borel n'est pas convaincante. Les recherches\nmen\u00e9es par le correcteur, notamment dans les diff\u00e9rentes \u00e9ditions des\ndictionnaires de l'Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise, ne lui ont pas permis de trouver\nun seul exemple de l'emploi de _touts_ \u00e0 la place de _tous_; il est\nprobable que le traducteur fait une confusion entre le nom masculin, qui\ns'\u00e9crit effectivement _touts_ au pluriel, et l'adjectif. _(Note du\ncorrecteur--ELG.)_\n[2] Malgr\u00e9 notre respect pour le texte original, nous avons cru devoir\nnous permettre, ici, de faire le r\u00e9cit direct. P. B.\n[3] Ce passage a \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9testablement d\u00e9figur\u00e9 dans toutes les \u00e9ditions\npass\u00e9es et actuelles; nous le citons pour donner une id\u00e9e parfaite de\nleur valeur n\u00e9gative.--Il y a dans l'original anglais cette excellente\nphrase.--_But you're but a fresh-water sailor, Bob; come let us make a\nbowl of punch, and we'll forget all that_.--_Vous n'\u00eates qu'un marin\nd'eau douce, Bob; venez, que nous fassions un bowl de punch, et que nous\noubliions tout cela_. Voici ce qu'elle est devenue en passant par la\nplume de nos traducteurs:--_Vous n'\u00eates encore qu'un novice;\nmettons-nous, \u00e0 faire du punch, et que les plaisirs de_ Bacchus _nous\nfassent enti\u00e8rement oublier la mauvaise humeur de_ Neptune.--Daniel de\nFo\u00eb \u00e9tait un homme de go\u00fbt et de bon sens: cette phrase est une\ncalomnie. P. B.\n[4] Il est probable qu'il y a une erreur dans l'\u00e9dition de Gallica qui a\nservi de support \u00e0 notre travail; il faut probablement lire _GUIN\u00c9E_.\n_(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[5] _Calenture_: Esp\u00e8ce de d\u00e9lire auquel sont sujets les navigateurs qui\nvont dans la zone torride.\n[6] On appelle _Moriscos_, en espagnol, les Maures qui embrass\u00e8rent le\nChristianisme, lorsque l'Espagne fut reconquise, et qui depuis en ont\n\u00e9t\u00e9 chass\u00e9s. P. B.\n[7] _Shoulder of mutton sail._--Voile aurique.\n[8] _Straits mouth._--D\u00e9troit de Gibraltar.\n[9] L'\u00e9dition originale anglaise de Stockdale porte _Seignor inglese_,\nce qui n'est pas plus espagnol que portugais.\n[10] _Engenho de a\u00e7ucar_, moulin \u00e0 sucre.\n[11] Saint-Hyacinthe a confondu _such as beads_ avec _such as beds_, et\na traduit _pour des bagatelles, telles que des lits_... P.B.\n[12] Agent d\u00e9sign\u00e9 par l'armateur pour r\u00e9gir la comptabilit\u00e9 du navire.\n_(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[13] Mauvaise heure, heure d\u00e9favorable. _(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[14] Quincailleries. _(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[15] Ici, Saint-Hyacinthe, confondant encore _bead_ avec _bed_, a\ntraduit _tels que des matelas_.\n[16] _For sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first._\n[17] _Espar_: Longue pi\u00e8ce de bois (ou de m\u00e9tal ou de mati\u00e8re\nsynth\u00e9tique) utilis\u00e9e comme m\u00e2t, b\u00f4me, vergue, etc. Autres orthographe\nhistoriques: _esparre_, _espare_. _(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[18] Saint-Hyacinthe a commis deux erreurs religieusement conserv\u00e9es\ndans toutes les \u00e9ditions et r\u00e9p\u00e9t\u00e9es par touts ses plagiaires; il a\ntraduit _a chiquered shirt_ par _une chemise d\u00e9chir\u00e9e_, _et a pair of\ntrowsers_, haut-de-chausses \u00e0 la matelote, par _des cale\u00e7ons_. P.B.\n[19] _Hogshead_, barrique contenant 60 gallons, environ 240 pintes ou un\nmuid.--Saint-Hyacinthe a donc fait erreur en traduisant _hogshead of\nbread_, par _un morceau de biscuit_. P.B.\n[20] _One of those knives is worth all this heap_.--Saint-Hyacinthe a\nd\u00e9natur\u00e9 ainsi cette phrase:--Un seul de ces couteaux est plus estimable\nque les tr\u00e9sors de Cr\u00e9sus.\n[21] Petite entaille. Synonyme de _coche_. _(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[22] _A mere common flight of joy_; _un lumignon aussit\u00f4t \u00e9teint\nqu'allum\u00e9_. Traduction de Saint-Hyacinthe.\n[23] Vari\u00e9t\u00e9 de c\u00e9page blanc \u00e0 raisins assez petits, cultiv\u00e9e dans le\nMidi m\u00e9diterran\u00e9en pour servir \u00e0 la pr\u00e9paration des raisins secs. _(Note\ndu correcteur--ELG.)_\n[24] _Into my old hutch_. _Hutch_: huche ou lapini\u00e8re.\n[25] \u00abThis therefore was not my work, but an assistant to my\nwork.\u00bb--(_Ceci donc n'\u00e9tait point mon travail, mais une aide \u00e0 mon\ntravail._)--Voici comment cette phrase, br\u00e8ve et concise, a \u00e9t\u00e9\ntravestie,--d'apr\u00e8s Saint-Hyacinthe,--dans une traduction\ncontemporaine:--\u00abCe petit animal me tenait compagnie dans mon travail;\nles entretiens que j'avais avec lui me distrayaient souvent au milieu de\nmes occupations graves et importantes, comme vous allez en juger.\u00bb--\u00c0\nchaque page on pourrait citer de pareilles infid\u00e9lit\u00e9s. P.B.\n[26] Diminutif d'_\u00e9coutille_. _(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[27] Petrus Borel explique, dans la pr\u00e9face, pourquoi il a orthographi\u00e9\nle mot _mousse_ ainsi. _(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[28] Ici, dans certaine \u00e9dition, est intercal\u00e9, \u00e0 propos d'encre, un\npetit paragraphe fort niais et fort malencontreux, qui ne se trouve\npoint dans l'\u00e9dition originale de Stockdale. P. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Audrey Longhurst, Leah Moser and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team.\nMEMOIRS OF A CAVALIER\nor\nA Military Journal of the Wars in Germany, and the Wars in England.\nFrom the Year 1632 to the Year 1648.\nBy Daniel Defoe\nEdited with Introduction and Notes by Elizabeth O'Neill\nINTRODUCTION.\nDaniel Defoe is, perhaps, best known to us as the author of _Robinson\nCrusoe_, a book which has been the delight of generations of boys and\ngirls ever since the beginning of the eighteenth century. For it was\nthen that Defoe lived and wrote, being one of the new school of prose\nwriters which grew up at that time and which gave England new forms\nof literature almost unknown to an earlier age. Defoe was a vigorous\npamphleteer, writing first on the Whig side and later for the Tories\nin the reigns of William III and Anne. He did much to foster the\ngrowth of the newspaper, a form of literature which henceforth became\npopular. He also did much towards the development of the modern novel,\nthough he did not write novels in our sense of the word. His books\nwere more simple than is the modern novel. What he really wrote were\nlong stories told, as is _Robinson Crusoe_, in the first person and\nwith so much detail that it is hard to believe that they are works of\nimagination and not true stories. \"The little art he is truly master\nof, is of forging a story and imposing it upon the world as truth.\" So\nwrote one of his contemporaries. Charles Lamb, in criticizing Defoe,\nnotices this minuteness of detail and remarks that he is, therefore,\nan author suited only for \"servants\" (meaning that this method can\nappeal only to comparatively uneducated minds). Really as every boy\nand girl knows, a good story ought to have this quality of seeming\ntrue, and the fact that Defoe can so deceive us makes his work the\nmore excellent reading.\nThe _Memoirs of a Cavalier_ resembles _Robinson Crusoe_ in so far as\nit is a tale told by a man of his own experiences and adventures. It\nhas just the same air of truth and for a long time after its first\npublication in 1720 people were divided in opinion as to whether it\nwas a book of real memoirs or not. A critical examination has shown\nthat it is Defoe's own work and not, as he declares, the contents of\na manuscript which he found \"by great accident, among other valuable\npapers\" belonging to one of King William's secretaries of state.\nAlthough his gifts of imagination enabled him to throw himself into\nthe position of the Cavalier he lapses occasionally into his own\ncharacteristic prose and the style is often that of the eighteenth\nrather than the seventeenth century, more eloquent than quaint. Again,\nhe is not careful to hide inconsistencies between his preface and the\ntext. Thus, he says in his preface that he discovered the manuscript\nin 1651; yet we find in the _Memoirs_ a reference to the Restoration,\nwhich shows that it must have been written after 1660 at least. There\nis abundant proof that the book is really a work of fiction and that\nthe Cavalier is an imaginary character; but, in one sense, it is a\ntrue history, inasmuch as the author has studied the events and spirit\nof the time in which his scene is laid and, though he makes many\nmistakes of detail, he gives us a very true picture of one of the most\ninteresting periods in English and European history. The _Memoirs_\nthus represent the English historical novel in its beginnings, a much\nsimpler thing than it was to become in the hands of Scott and later\nwriters.\nThe period in which the scene is laid is that of the English Civil\nWar, in which the Cavalier fought on the side of King Charles I\nagainst the Puritans. But his adventures in this war belong to the\nsecond part of the book. In the first part, he tells of his birth and\nparentage, the foreign travel which was the fashionable completion\nof the education of a gentleman in the seventeenth century, and his\nadventures as a volunteer officer in the Swedish army, where he gained\nthe experience which was to serve him well in the Civil War at home.\nMany a real Cavalier must have had just such a career as Defoe's hero\ndescribes as his own. After a short time at Oxford, \"long enough for\na gentleman,\" he embarked on a period of travel, going to Italy by\nway of France. The Cavalier, however, devotes but little space to\ndescription, vivid enough as far as it goes, of his adventures in\nthese two counties for a space of over two years. Italy, especially,\nattracted the attention of gentlemen and scholars in those days,\nbut the Cavalier was more bent on soldiering than sightseeing and he\nhurries on to tell of his adventures in Germany, where he first really\ntook part in warfare, becoming a volunteer officer in the army of\nGustavus Adolphus, the hero King of Sweden, and where he met with\nthose adventures the story of which forms the bulk of the first part\nof the _Memoirs_.\nTo appreciate the tale, it will be necessary to have a clear idea\nof the state of affairs in Europe at the time. The war which was\nconvulsing Germany, and in which almost every other European power\ninterfered at some time, was the Thirty Years' War (1618--1648), a\nstruggle having a special character of its own as the last of the\nreligious wars which had torn Europe asunder for a century and the\nfirst of a long series of wars in which the new and purely political\nprinciple of the Balance of Power can be seen at work. The struggle\nwas, nominally, between Protestant and Catholic Germany for, during\nthe Reformation period, Germany, which consisted of numerous states\nunder the headship of the Emperor, had split into two great camps. The\nNorthern states had become Protestant under their Protestant princes.\nThe Southern states had remained, for the most part, Catholic or had\nbeen won back to Catholicism in the religious reaction known as the\nCounter-Reformation. As the Catholic movement spread, under a Catholic\nEmperor like Ferdinand of Styria, who was elected in 1619, it was\ninevitable that the privileges granted to Protestants should be\ncurtailed. They determined to resist and, as the Emperor had the\nsupport of Spain, the Protestant Union found it necessary to call in\nhelp from outside. Thus it was that the other European powers came to\ninterfere in German affairs. Some helped the Protestants from motives\nof religion, more still from considerations of policy, and the long\nstruggle of thirty years may be divided into marked periods in which\none power after another, Denmark, Sweden, France, allied themselves\nwith the Protestants against the Emperor. The _Memoirs_ are\nconcerned with the first two years of the Swedish period of the war\n(1630--1634), during which Gustavus Adolphus almost won victory\nfor the Protestants who were, however, to lose the advantage of his\nbrilliant generalship through his death at the battle of L\u00fctzen in\n1632. Through the death of \"this conquering king,\" the Swedes lost the\nfruits of their victory and the battle of L\u00fctzen marks the end of what\nmay be termed the heroic period of the war. Gustavus Adolphus stands\nout among the men of his day for the loftiness of his character as\nwell as for the genius of his generalship. It is, therefore, fitting\nenough that Defoe should make his Cavalier withdraw from the Swedish\nservice after the death of the \"glorious king\" whom he \"could never\nmention without some remark of his extraordinary merit.\" For two years\nlonger, he wanders through Germany still watching the course of the\nwar and then returns to England, soon to take part in another war at\nhome, namely the Civil War, in which the English people were divided\ninto two great parties according as they supported King Charles I or\nthe members of the Long Parliament who opposed him. According to the\n_Memoirs_, the Cavalier \"went into arms\" without troubling himself \"to\nexamine sides.\" Defoe probably considered this attitude as typical\nof many of the Cavalier party, and, of course, loyalty to the king's\nperson was one of their strongest motives. The Cavalier does not enter\nlargely into the causes of the war. What he gives us is a picture of\narmy life in that troubled period. It will be well, however, to bear\nin mind the chief facts in the history of the times.\nFrom the beginning of his reign, Charles had had trouble with his\nparliaments, which had already become very restless under James I.\nCharles's parliaments disapproved of his foreign policy and their\nunwillingness to grant subsidies led him to fall back on questionable\nmethods of raising money, especially during the eleven years\n(1629--1640) in which he ruled without a parliament. Charles had no\ngreat scheme of tyranny, but avoided parliaments because of their\ncriticism of his policy. At first the opposition had been purely\npolitical, but the parliament of 1629 had attacked also Charles's\nreligious policy. He favoured the schemes of Laud (archbishop of\nCanterbury 1633--1649) and the Arminian school among the clergy, who\nwished to revive many of the old Catholic practices and some of the\nbeliefs which had been swept away by the Reformation. Many people\nin England objected not only to these but even to the wearing of the\nsurplice, the simplest of the old vestments, on the use of which Laud\ntried to insist. This party came to be known as Puritans and they\nformed the chief strength of the opposition to the King in the Long\nParliament which met in 1640. For their attack on the Church led many\nwho had at first opposed the King's arbitrary methods to go over to\nhis side. Thus, the moderate men as well as the loyalists formed a\nking's party and the opposition was almost confined to men who hated\nthe Church as much as the King. The Puritans who loved simplicity\nof dress and severity of manners and despised the flowing locks and\nworldly vanities which the Cavaliers loved were, by these, nicknamed\nRoundheads on account of their short hair. Defoe, in the _Memoirs_,\ngives us less of this side of the history of the times than might have\nbeen expected. The war actually began in August, 1642, and what\nDefoe gives us is military history, correct in essentials and full\nof detail, which is, however, far from accurate. For instance, in his\naccount of the battle of Marston Moor, he makes prince Rupert command\nthe left wing, whereas he really commanded the right wing, the left\nbeing led by Lord Goring who, according to Defoe's account, commanded\nthe main battle. He conveys to us, however, the true spirit of the\nwar, emphasizing the ability and the mistakes on both sides, showing\nhow the king's miscalculations or Rupert's rashness deprived the\nRoyalist party of the advantages of the superior generalship and\nfighting power which were theirs in the first part of the war and how\ngradually the Roundheads got the better of the Cavaliers. The detailed\nnarrative comes to an end with the delivery of the King to the\nParliament by the Scots, to whom he had given himself up in his\nextremity. A few lines tell of his trial and execution and the\n_Memoirs_ end with some pages of \"remarks and observations\" on the\nwar and a list of coincidences which had been noted in its course.\nThe latter, savouring somewhat of superstition, appear natural in\nwhat purports to be a seventeenth century text, but the summing up of\nconclusions about the war is rather such as might be made by a more or\nless impartial observer at a later date than by one who had taken an\nactive part in the struggle. In reading the _Memoirs_ this mixture of\nwhat belongs to the seventeenth century with the reflections of Defoe,\nin many ways a typical eighteenth century figure, must be borne in\nmind. The inaccuracies are pointed out in the notes, but these need\nnot prevent us from entering with zest into the spirit of the story.\nE. O'NEILL.\nCONTENTS\n  INTRODUCTION.\n  PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.\n  TEXT: Part I.\n  NOTES.\nPREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.\nAs an evidence that 'tis very probable these Memorials were written\nmany years ago, the persons now concerned in the publication assure\nthe reader that they have had them in their possession finished, as\nthey now appear, above twenty years; that they were so long ago found\nby great accident, among other valuable papers, in the closet of an\neminent public minister, of no less figure than one of King William's\nsecretaries of state.\nAs it is not proper to trace them any farther, so neither is there any\nneed to trace them at all, to give reputation to the story related,\nseeing the actions here mentioned have a sufficient sanction from all\nthe histories of the times to which they relate, with this addition,\nthat the admirable manner of relating them and the wonderful variety\nof incidents with which they are beautified in the course of a private\ngentleman's story, add such delight in the reading, and give such a\nlustre, as well to the accounts themselves as to the person who was\nthe actor, that no story, we believe, extant in the world ever came\nabroad with such advantage.\nIt must naturally give some concern in the reading that the name of a\nperson of so much gallantry and honour, and so many ways valuable\nto the world, should be lost to the readers. We assure them no small\nlabour has been thrown away upon the inquiry, and all we have been\nable to arrive to of discovery in this affair is, that a memorandum\nwas found with this manuscript, in these words, but not signed by any\nname, only the two letters of a name, which gives us no light into the\nmatter, which memoir was as follows:--\n_Memorandum_.\n\"I found this manuscript among my father's writings, and I understand\nthat he got them as plunder, at, or after, the fight at Worcester,\nwhere he served as major of ----'s regiment of horse on the side of\nthe Parliament. I.K.\"\nAs this has been of no use but to terminate the inquiry after the\nperson, so, however, it seems most naturally to give an authority to\nthe original of the work, viz., that it was born of a soldier; and\nindeed it is through every part related with so soldierly a style, and\nin the very language of the field, that it seems impossible anything\nbut the very person who was present in every action here related,\ncould be the relater of them.\nThe accounts of battles, the sieges, and the several actions of which\nthis work is so full, are all recorded in the histories of those\ntimes; such as the great battle of Leipsic, the sacking of Magdeburg,\nthe siege of Nuremburg, the passing the river Lech in Bavaria; such\nalso as the battle of Kineton, or Edgehill, the battles of Newbury,\nMarston Moor, and Naseby, and the like: they are all, we say, recorded\nin other histories, and written by those who lived in those times, and\nperhaps had good authority for what they wrote. But do those relations\ngive any of the beautiful ideas of things formed in this account?\nHave they one half of the circumstances and incidents of the actions\nthemselves that this man's eyes were witness to, and which his memory\nhas thus preserved? He that has read the best accounts of those\nbattles will be surprised to see the particulars of the story so\npreserved, so nicely and so agreeably described, and will confess\nwhat we allege, that the story is inimitably told; and even the great\nactions of the glorious King GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS receive a lustre\nfrom this man's relations which the world was never made sensible of\nbefore, and which the present age has much wanted of late, in order to\ngive their affections a turn in favour of his late glorious successor.\nIn the story of our own country's unnatural wars, he carries on the\nsame spirit. How effectually does he record the virtues and glorious\nactions of King Charles the First, at the same time that he frequently\nenters upon the mistakes of his Majesty's conduct, and of his friends,\nwhich gave his enemies all those fatal advantages against him, which\nended in the overthrow of his armies, the loss of his crown and life,\nand the ruin of the constitution!\nIn all his accounts he does justice to his enemies, and honours\nthe merit of those whose cause he fought against; and many accounts\nrecorded in his story, are not to be found even in the best histories\nof those times.\nWhat applause does he give to gallantry of Sir Thomas Fairfax, to his\nmodesty, to his conduct, under which he himself was subdued, and to\nthe justice he did the king's troops when they laid down their arms!\nHis description of the Scots troops in the beginning of the war, and\nthe behaviour of the party under the Earl of Holland, who went over\nagainst them, are admirable; and his censure of their conduct, who\npushed the king upon the quarrel, and then would not let him fight, is\nno more than what many of the king's friends (though less knowing as\nsoldiers) have often complained of.\nIn a word, this work is a confutation of many errors in all the\nwriters upon the subject of our wars in England, and even in that\nextraordinary history written by the Earl of Clarendon; but the\neditors were so just that when, near twenty years ago, a person\nwho had written a whole volume in folio, by way of answer to and\nconfutation of Clarendon's \"History of the Rebellion,\" would have\nborrowed the clauses in this account, which clash with that history,\nand confront it,--we say the editors were so just as to refuse them.\nThere can be nothing objected against the general credit of this work,\nseeing its truth is established upon universal history; and almost all\nthe facts, especially those of moment, are confirmed for their general\npart by all the writers of those times. If they are here embellished\nwith particulars, which are nowhere else to be found, that is the\nbeauty we boast of; and that it is that much recommend this work to\nall the men of sense and judgment that read it.\nThe only objection we find possible to make against this work is, that\nit is not carried on farther, or, as we may say finished, with the\nfinishing the war of the time; and this we complain of also. But then\nwe complain of it as a misfortune to the world, not as a fault in the\nauthor; for how do we know but that this author might carry it on, and\nhave another part finished which might not fall into the same hands,\nor may still remain with some of his family, and which they cannot\nindeed publish, to make it seem anything perfect, for want of the\nother parts which we have, and which we have now made public? Nor is\nit very improbable but that if any such farther part is in being, the\npublishing these two parts may occasion the proprietors of the third\nto let the world see it, and that by such a discovery the name of the\nperson may also come to be known, which would, no doubt, be a great\nsatisfaction to the reader as well as us.\nThis, however, must be said, that if the same author should have\nwritten another part of this work, and carried it on to the end of\nthose times, yet as the residue of those melancholy days, to the\nRestoration, were filled with the intrigues of government, the\npolitical management of illegal power, and the dissensions and\nfactions of a people who were then even in themselves but a faction,\nand that there was very little action in the field, it is more than\nprobable that our author, who was a man of arms, had little share in\nthose things, and might not care to trouble himself with looking at\nthem.\nBut besides all this, it might happen that he might go abroad again\nat that time, as most of the gentlemen of quality, and who had an\nabhorrence for the power that then governed here, did. Nor are we\ncertain that he might live to the end of that time, so we can give\nno account whether he had any share in the subsequent actions of that\ntime.\n'Tis enough that we have the authorities above to recommend this part\nto us that is now published. The relation, we are persuaded, will\nrecommend itself, and nothing more can be needful, because nothing\nmore can invite than the story itself, which, when the reader enters\ninto, he will find it very hard to get out of till he has gone through\nit.\nMEMOIRS OF A CAVALIER.\nPART I.\nIt may suffice the reader, without being very inquisitive after my\nname, that I was born in the county of Salop, in the year 1608, under\nthe government of what star I was never astrologer enough to\nexamine; but the consequences of my life may allow me to suppose some\nextraordinary influence affected my birth.\nMy father was a gentleman of a very plentiful fortune, having an\nestate of above \u00a35000 per annum, of a family nearly allied to several\nof the principal nobility, and lived about six miles from the town;\nand my mother being at ---- on some particular occasion, was surprised\nthere at a friend's house, and brought me very safe into the world.\nI was my father's second son, and therefore was not altogether so much\nslighted as younger sons of good families generally are. But my father\nsaw something in my genius also which particularly pleased him, and so\nmade him take extraordinary care of my education.\nI was taught, therefore, by the best masters that could be had,\neverything that was needful to accomplish a young gentleman for the\nworld; and at seventeen years old my tutor told my father an academic\neducation was very proper for a person of quality, and he thought me\nvery fit for it: so my father entered me of ---- College in Oxford,\nwhere I continued three years.\nA collegiate life did not suit me at all, though I loved books well\nenough. It was never designed that I should be either a lawyer,\nphysician, or divine; and I wrote to my father that I thought I had\nstayed there long enough for a gentleman, and with his leave I desired\nto give him a visit.\nDuring my stay at Oxford, though I passed through the proper exercises\nof the house, yet my chief reading was upon history and geography,\nas that which pleased my mind best, and supplied me with ideas most\nsuitable to my genius; by one I understood what great actions had been\ndone in the world, and by the other I understood where they had been\ndone.\nMy father readily complied with my desire of coming home; for besides\nthat he thought, as I did, that three years' time at the university\nwas enough, he also most passionately loved me, and began to think of\nmy settling near him.\nAt my arrival I found myself extraordinarily caressed by my father,\nand he seemed to take a particular delight in my conversation. My\nmother, who lived in perfect union with him both in desires and\naffection, received me very passionately. Apartments were provided for\nme by myself, and horses and servants allowed me in particular.\nMy father never went a-hunting, an exercise he was exceeding fond of,\nbut he would have me with him; and it pleased him when he found me\nlike the sport. I lived thus, in all the pleasures 'twas possible for\nme to enjoy, for about a year more, when going out one morning with my\nfather to hunt a stag, and having had a very hard chase, and gotten\na great way off from home, we had leisure enough to ride gently back;\nand as we returned my father took occasion to enter into a serious\ndiscourse with me concerning the manner of my settling in the world.\nHe told me, with a great deal of passion, that he loved me above all\nthe rest of his children, and that therefore he intended to do very\nwell for me; and that my eldest brother being already married\nand settled, he had designed the same for me, and proposed a very\nadvantageous match for me, with a young lady of very extraordinary\nfortune and merit, and offered to make a settlement of \u00a32000 per annum\non me, which he said he would purchase for me without diminishing his\npaternal estate.\nThere was too much tenderness in this discourse not to affect me\nexceedingly. I told him I would perfectly resign myself unto his\ndisposal. But as my father had, together with his love for me, a very\nnice judgment in his discourse, he fixed his eyes very attentively on\nme, and though my answer was without the least reserve, yet he\nthought he saw some uneasiness in me at the proposal, and from thence\nconcluded that my compliance was rather an act of discretion than\ninclination; and that, however I seemed so absolutely given up to what\nhe had proposed, yet my answer was really an effect of my obedience\nrather than my choice.\nSo he returned very quick upon me: \"Look you, son, though I give you\nmy own thoughts in the matter, yet I would have you be very plain with\nme; for if your own choice does not agree with mine, I will be your\nadviser, but will never impose upon you, and therefore let me know\nyour mind freely.\" \"I don't reckon myself capable, sir,\" said I, with\na great deal of respect, \"to make so good a choice for myself as you\ncan for me; and though my opinion differed from yours, its being your\nopinion would reform mine, and my judgment would as readily comply as\nmy duty.\" \"I gather at least from thence,\" said my father, \"that your\ndesigns lay another way before, however they may comply with mine; and\ntherefore I would know what it was you would have asked of me if I had\nnot offered this to you; and you must not deny me your obedience in\nthis, if you expect I should believe your readiness in the other.\"\n\"Sir,\" said I, \"'twas impossible I should lay out for myself just\nwhat you have proposed; but if my inclinations were never so contrary,\nthough at your command you shall know them, yet I declare them to be\nwholly subjected to your order. I confess my thoughts did not tend\ntowards marriage or a settlement; for, though I had no reason to\nquestion your care of me, yet I thought a gentleman ought always to\nsee something of the world before he confined himself to any part of\nit. And if I had been to ask your consent to anything, it should have\nbeen to give me leave to travel for a short time, in order to qualify\nmyself to appear at home like a son to so good a father.\"\n\"In what capacity would you travel?\" replied my father. \"You must go\nabroad either as a private gentleman, as a scholar, or as a soldier.\"\n\"If it were in the latter capacity, sir,\" said I, returning pretty\nquick, \"I hope I should not misbehave myself; but I am not so\ndetermined as not to be ruled by your judgment.\" \"Truly,\" replied my\nfather, \"I see no war abroad at this time worth while for a man to\nappear in, whether we talk of the cause or the encouragement; and\nindeed, son, I am afraid you need not go far for adventures of that\nnature, for times seem to look as if this part of Europe would find us\nwork enough.\" My father spake then relating to the quarrel likely\nto happen between the King of England and the Spaniard,' [1] for I\nbelieve he had no notions of a civil war in his head.\nIn short, my father, perceiving my inclinations very forward to go\nabroad, gave me leave to travel, upon condition I would promise to\nreturn in two years at farthest, or sooner, if he sent for me.\nWhile I was at Oxford I happened into the society of a young\ngentleman, of a good family, but of a low fortune, being a younger\nbrother, and who had indeed instilled into me the first desires of\ngoing abroad, and who, I knew, passionately longed to travel, but had\nnot sufficient allowance to defray his expenses as a gentleman. We\nhad contracted a very close friendship, and our humours being very\nagreeable to one another, we daily enjoyed the conversation of\nletters. He was of a generous free temper, without the least\naffectation or deceit, a handsome proper person, a strong body, very\ngood mien, and brave to the last degree. His name was Fielding and we\ncalled him Captain, though it be a very unusual title in a college;\nbut fate had some hand in the title, for he had certainly the lines of\na soldier drawn in his countenance. I imparted to him the resolutions\nI had taken, and how I had my father's consent to go abroad, and would\nknow his mind whether he would go with me. He sent me word he would go\nwith all his heart.\nMy father, when he saw him, for I sent for him immediately to come\nto me, mightily approved my choice; so we got our equipage ready, and\ncame away for London.\n'Twas on the 22nd of April 1630, when we embarked at Dover, landed in\na few hours at Calais, and immediately took post for Paris. I shall\nnot trouble the reader with a journal of my travels, nor with the\ndescription of places, which every geographer can do better than I;\nbut these Memoirs being only a relation of what happened either to\nourselves, or in our own knowledge, I shall confine myself to that\npart of it.\nWe had indeed some diverting passages in our journey to Paris, as\nfirst, the horse my comrade was upon fell so very lame with a slip\nthat he could not go, and hardly stand, and the fellow that rid with\nus express, pretended to ride away to a town five miles off to get a\nfresh horse, and so left us on the road with one horse between two of\nus. We followed as well as we could, but being strangers, missed the\nway, and wandered a great way out the road. Whether the man performed\nin reasonable time or not we could not be sure, but if it had not been\nfor an old priest, we had never found him. We met this man, by a very\ngood accident, near a little village whereof he was curate. We spoke\nLatin enough just to make him understand us, and he did not speak it\nmuch better himself; but he carried us into the village to his house,\ngave us wine and bread, and entertained us with wonderful courtesy.\nAfter this he sent into the village, hired a peasant, and a horse for\nmy captain, and sent him to guide us into the road. At parting he\nmade a great many compliments to us in French, which we could just\nunderstand; but the sum was, to excuse him for a question he had\na mind to ask us. After leave to ask what he pleased, it was if we\nwanted any money for our journey, and pulled out two pistoles, which\nhe offered either to give or lend us.\nI mention this exceeding courtesy of the curate because, though\ncivility is very much in use in France, and especially to strangers,\nyet 'tis a very unusual thing to have them part with their money.\nWe let the priest know, first, that we did not want money, and next\nthat we were very sensible of the obligation he had put upon us; and\nI told him in particular, if I lived to see him again, I would\nacknowledge it.\nThis accident of our horse was, as we afterwards found, of some use\nto us. We had left our two servants behind us at Calais to bring our\nbaggage after us, by reason of some dispute between the captain of the\npacket and the custom-house officer, which could not be adjusted, and\nwe were willing to be at Paris. The fellows followed as fast as they\ncould, and, as near as we could learn, in the time we lost our way,\nwere robbed, and our portmanteaus opened. They took what they pleased;\nbut as there was no money there, but linen and necessaries, the loss\nwas not great.\nOur guide carried us to Amiens, where we found the express and our two\nservants, who the express meeting on the road with a spare horse, had\nbrought back with him thither.\nWe took this for a good omen of our successful journey, having escaped\na danger which might have been greater to us than it was to our\nservants; for the highwaymen in France do not always give a traveller\nthe civility of bidding him stand and deliver his money, but\nfrequently fire on him first, and then take his money.\nWe stayed one day at Amiens, to adjust this little disorder, and\nwalked about the town, and into the great church, but saw nothing\nvery remarkable there; but going across a broad street near the great\nchurch, we saw a crowd of people gazing at a mountebank doctor, who\nmade a long harangue to them with a thousand antic postures, and gave\nout bills this way, and boxes of physic that way, and had a great\ntrade, when on a sudden the people raised a cry, \"_Larron, Larron_!\"\n(in English, \"Thief, thief\"), on the other side the street, and all\nthe auditors ran away, from Mr Doctor to see what the matter was.\nAmong the rest we went to see, and the case was plain and short\nenough. Two English gentlemen and a Scotchman, travellers as we were,\nwere standing gazing at this prating doctor, and one of them catched\na fellow picking his pocket. The fellow had got some of his money, for\nhe dropped two or three pieces just by him, and had got hold of\nhis watch, but being surprised let it slip again. But the reason of\ntelling this story is for the management of it. This thief had his\nseconds so ready, that as soon as the Englishman had seized him they\nfell in, pretended to be mighty zealous for the stranger, takes the\nfellow by the throat, and makes a great bustle; the gentleman not\ndoubting but the man was secured let go his own hold of him, and left\nhim to them. The hubbub was great, and 'twas these fellows cried,\n\"_Larron, larron_!\" but with a dexterity peculiar to themselves had\nlet the right fellow go, and pretended to be all upon one of their own\ngang. At last they bring the man to the gentleman to ask him what the\nfellow had done, who, when he saw the person they seized on, presently\ntold them that was not the man. Then they seemed to be in more\nconsternation than before, and spread themselves all over the street,\ncrying, \"_Larron, larron_!\" pretending to search for the fellow; and\nso one one way, one another, they were all gone, the noise went over,\nthe gentlemen stood looking one at another, and the bawling doctor\nbegan to have the crowd about him again. This was the first French\ntrick I had the opportunity of seeing, but I was told they have a\ngreat many more as dexterous as this.\nWe soon got acquaintance with these gentlemen, who were going to\nParis, as well as we; so the next day we made up our company with\nthem, and were a pretty troop of five gentlemen and four servants.\nAs we had really no design to stay long at Paris, so indeed, excepting\nthe city itself, there was not much to be seen there. Cardinal\nRichelieu, who was not only a supreme minister in the Church, but\nPrime Minister in the State, was now made also General of the King's\nForces, with a title never known in France before nor since, viz.,\nLieutenant-General \"au place du Roi,\" in the king's stead, or, as some\nhave since translated it, representing the person of the king.\nUnder this character he pretended to execute all the royal powers in\nthe army without appeal to the king, or without waiting for orders;\nand having parted from Paris the winter before had now actually begun\nthe war against the Duke of Savoy, in the process of which he restored\nthe Duke of Mantua, and having taken Pignerol from the duke, put it\ninto such a state of defence as the duke could never force it out of\nhis hands, and reduced the duke, rather by manage and conduct than\nby force, to make peace without it; so as annexing it to the crown of\nFrance it has ever since been a thorn in his foot that has always\nmade the peace of Savoy lame and precarious, and France has since made\nPignerol one of the strongest fortresses in the world.\nAs the cardinal, with all the military part of the court, was in the\nfield, so the king, to be near him, was gone with the queen and all\nthe court, just before I reached Paris, to reside at Lyons. All these\nconsidered, there was nothing to do at Paris; the court looked like a\ncitizen's house when the family was all gone into the country, and\nI thought the whole city looked very melancholy, compared to all the\nfine things I had heard of it.\nThe queen-mother and her party were chagrined at the cardinal, who,\nthough he owed his grandeur to her immediate favour, was now grown too\ngreat any longer to be at the command of her Majesty, or indeed in her\ninterest; and therefore the queen was under dissatisfaction and her\nparty looked very much down.\nThe Protestants were everywhere disconsolate, for the losses they had\nreceived at Rochelle, Nimes, and Montpelier had reduced them to an\nabsolute dependence on the king's will, without all possible hopes of\never recovering themselves, or being so much as in a condition to\ntake arms for their religion, and therefore the wisest of them plainly\nforesaw their own entire reduction, as it since came to pass. And I\nremember very well that a Protestant gentleman told me once, as we\nwere passing from Orleans to Lyons, that the English had ruined them;\nand therefore, says he, \"I think the next occasion the king takes to\nuse us ill, as I know 'twill not be long before he does, we must all\nfly over to England, where you are bound to maintain us for having\nhelped to turn us out of our own country.\" I asked him what he meant\nby saying the English had done it? He returned short upon me: \"I do\nnot mean,\" says he, \"by not relieving Rochelle, but by helping to ruin\nRochelle, when you and the Dutch lent ships to beat our fleet, which\nall the ships in France could not have done without you.\"\nI was too young in the world to be very sensible of this before, and\ntherefore was something startled at the charge; but when I came to\ndiscourse with this gentleman, I soon saw the truth of what he said\nwas undeniable, and have since reflected on it with regret, that the\nnaval power of the Protestants, which was then superior to the royal,\nwould certainly have been the recovery of all their fortunes, had it\nnot been unhappily broke by their brethren of England and Holland,\nthe former lending seven men-of-war, and the latter twenty, for the\ndestruction of the Rochellers' fleet; and by these very ships the\nRochellers' fleet were actually beaten and destroyed, and they never\nafterwards recovered their force at sea, and by consequence sunk under\nthe siege, which the English afterwards in vain attempted to prevent.\nThese things made the Protestants look very dull, and expected the\nruin of all their party, which had certainly happened had the cardinal\nlived a few years longer.\nWe stayed in Paris, about three weeks, as well to see the court and\nwhat rarities the place afforded, as by an occasion which had like to\nhave put a short period to our ramble.\nWalking one morning before the gate of the Louvre, with a design to\nsee the Swiss drawn up, which they always did, and exercised just\nbefore they relieved the guards, a page came up to me, and speaking\nEnglish to me, \"Sir,\" says he, \"the captain must needs have your\nimmediate assistance.\" I, that had not the knowledge of any person\nin Paris but my own companion, whom I called captain, had no room to\nquestion, but it was he that sent for me; and crying out hastily to\nhim, \"Where?\" followed the fellow as fast as 'twas possible. He led\nme through several passages which I knew not, and at last through a\ntennis-court and into a large room, where three men, like gentlemen,\nwere engaged very briskly two against one. The room was very dark, so\nthat I could not easily know them asunder, but being fully possessed\nwith an opinion before of my captain's danger, I ran into the room\nwith my sword in my hand. I had not particularly engaged any of them,\nnor so much as made a pass at any, when I received a very dangerous\nthrust in my thigh, rather occasioned by my too hasty running in,\nthan a real design of the person; but enraged at the hurt, without\nexamining who it was hurt me, I threw myself upon him, and run my\nsword quite through his body.\nThe novelty of the adventure, and the unexpected fall of the man by\na stranger come in nobody knew how, had becalmed the other two, that\nthey really stood gazing at me. By this time I had discovered that my\ncaptain was not there, and that 'twas some strange accident brought\nme thither. I could speak but little French, and supposed they could\nspeak no English, so I stepped to the door to see for the page that\nbrought me thither, but seeing nobody there and the passage clear,\nI made off as fast as I could, without speaking a word; nor did the\nother two gentlemen offer to stop me.\nBut I was in a strange confusion when, coming into those entries and\npassages which the page led me through, I could by no means find my\nway out. At last seeing a door open that looked through a house into\nthe street, I went in, and out at the other door; but then I was at\nas great a loss to know where I was, and which was the way to my\nlodgings. The wound in my thigh bled apace, and I could feel the blood\nin my breeches. In this interval came by a chair; I called, and went\ninto it, and bid them, as well as I could, go to the Louvre; for\nthough I knew not the name of the street where I lodged, I knew I\ncould find the way to it when I was at the Bastille. The chairmen went\non their own way, and being stopped by a company of the guards as they\nwent, set me down till the soldiers were marched by; when looking out\nI found I was just at my own lodging, and the captain was standing at\nthe door looking for me. I beckoned him to me, and, whispering, told\nhim I was very much hurt, but bid him pay the chairmen, and ask no\nquestions but come to me.\nI made the best of my way upstairs, but had lost so much blood, that I\nhad hardly spirits enough to keep me from swooning till he came in.\nHe was equally concerned with me to see me in such a bloody condition,\nand presently called up our landlord, and he as quickly called in his\nneighbours, that I had a room full of people about me in a quarter\nof an hour. But this had like to have been of worse consequence to me\nthan the other, for by this time there was great inquiring after the\nperson who killed a man at the tennis-court. My landlord was then\nsensible of his mistake, and came to me and told me the danger I was\nin, and very honestly offered to convey me to a friend's of his, where\nI should be very secure; I thanked him, and suffered myself to be\ncarried at midnight whither he pleased. He visited me very often, till\nI was well enough to walk about, which was not in less than ten days,\nand then we thought fit to be gone, so we took post for Orleans. But\nwhen I came upon the road I found myself in a new error, for my wound\nopened again with riding, and I was in a worse condition than before,\nbeing forced to take up at a little village on the road, called ----,\nabout ---- miles from Orleans, where there was no surgeon to be had,\nbut a sorry country barber, who nevertheless dressed me as well as he\ncould, and in about a week more I was able to walk to Orleans at three\ntimes. Here I stayed till I was quite well, and took coach for Lyons\nand so through Savoy into Italy.\nI spent nearly two years' time after this bad beginning in travelling\nthrough Italy, and to the several courts of Rome, Naples, Venice, and\nVienna.\nWhen I came to Lyons the king was gone from thence to Grenoble to meet\nthe cardinal, but the queens were both at Lyons.\nThe French affairs seemed at this time to have but an indifferent\naspect. There was no life in anything but where the cardinal was: he\npushed on everything with extraordinary conduct, and generally with\nsuccess; he had taken Susa and Pignerol from the Duke of Savoy, and\nwas preparing to push the duke even out of all his dominions.\nBut in the meantime everywhere else things looked ill; the troops\nwere ill-paid, the magazines empty, the people mutinous, and a general\ndisorder seized the minds of the court; and the cardinal, who was the\nsoul of everything, desired this interview at Grenoble, in order to\nput things into some better method.\nThis politic minister always ordered matters so, that if there was\nsuccess in anything the glory was his, but if things miscarried it was\nall laid upon the king. This conduct was so much the more nice, as it\nis the direct contrary to the custom in like cases, where kings assume\nthe glory of all the success in an action, and when a thing miscarries\nmake themselves easy by sacrificing their ministers and favourites\nto the complaints and resentments of the people; but this accurate\nrefined statesman got over this point.\nWhile we were at Lyons, and as I remember, the third day after our\ncoming thither, we had like to have been involved in a state broil,\nwithout knowing where we were. It was of a Sunday in the evening, the\npeople of Lyons, who had been sorely oppressed in taxes, and the war\nin Italy pinching their trade, began to be very tumultuous. We found\nthe day before the mob got together in great crowds, and talked oddly;\nthe king was everywhere reviled, and spoken disrespectfully of, and\nthe magistrates of the city either winked at, or durst not attempt to\nmeddle, lest they should provoke the people.\nBut on Sunday night, about midnight, we were waked by a prodigious\nnoise in the street. I jumped out of bed, and running to the window,\nI saw the street as full of mob as it could hold, some armed with\nmuskets and halberds, marched in very good order; others in disorderly\ncrowds, all shouting and crying out, \"Du paix le roi,\" and the like.\nOne that led a great party of this rabble carried a loaf of bread upon\nthe top of a pike, and other lesser loaves, signifying the smallness\nof their bread, occasioned by dearness.\nBy morning this crowd was gathered to a great height; they ran roving\nover the whole city, shut up all the shops, and forced all the\npeople to join with them from thence. They went up to the castle, and\nrenewing the clamour, a strange consternation seized all the princes.\nThey broke open the doors of the officers, collectors of the new\ntaxes, and plundered their houses, and had not the persons themselves\nfled in time they had been very ill-treated.\nThe queen-mother, as she was very much displeased to see such\nconsequences of the government, in whose management she had no share,\nso I suppose she had the less concern upon her. However, she came into\nthe court of the castle and showed herself to the people, gave money\namongst them, and spoke gently to them; and by a way peculiar to\nherself, and which obliged all she talked with, she pacified the mob\ngradually, sent them home with promises of redress and the like; and\nso appeased this tumult in two days by her prudence, which the guards\nin the castle had small mind to meddle with, and if they had, would in\nall probability have made the better side the worse.\nThere had been several seditions of the like nature in sundry other\nparts of France, and the very army began to murmur, though not to\nmutiny, for want of provisions.\nThis sedition at Lyons was not quite over when we left the place,\nfor, finding the city all in a broil, we considered we had no business\nthere, and what the consequence of a popular tumult might be we did\nnot see, so we prepared to be gone. We had not rid above three miles\nout of the city but we were brought as prisoners of war, by a party of\nmutineers, who had been abroad upon the scout, and were charged\nwith being messengers sent to the cardinal for forces to reduce the\ncitizens. With these pretences they brought us back in triumph, and\nthe queen-mother, being by this time grown something familiar to them,\nthey carried us before her.\nWhen they inquired of us who we were, we called ourselves Scots; for\nas the English were very much out of favour in France at this time,\nthe peace having been made not many months, and not supposed to\nbe very durable, because particularly displeasing to the people of\nEngland, so the Scots were on the other extreme with the French.\nNothing was so much caressed as the Scots, and a man had no more to\ndo in France, if he would be well received there, than to say he was a\nScotchman.\nWhen we came before the queen-mother she seemed to receive us with\nsome stiffness at first, and caused her guards to take us into\ncustody; but as she was a lady of most exquisite politics, she did\nthis to amuse the mob, and we were immediately after dismissed; and\nthe queen herself made a handsome excuse to us for the rudeness we had\nsuffered, alleging the troubles of the times; and the next morning we\nhad three dragoons of the guards to convoy us out of the jurisdiction\nof Lyons.\nI confess this little adventure gave me an aversion to popular tumults\nall my life after, and if nothing else had been in the cause, would\nhave biassed me to espouse the king's party in England when our\npopular heats carried all before it at home.\nBut I must say, that when I called to mind since, the address, the\nmanagement, the compliance in show, and in general the whole conduct\nof the queen-mother with the mutinous people of Lyons, and compared it\nwith the conduct of my unhappy master the King of England, I could not\nbut see that the queen understood much better than King Charles the\nmanagement of politics and the clamours of the people.\nHad this princess been at the helm in England, she would have\nprevented all the calamities of the Civil War here, and yet not have\nparted with what that good prince yielded in order to peace neither.\nShe would have yielded gradually, and then gained upon them gradually;\nshe would have managed them to the point she had designed them, as she\ndid all parties in France; and none could effectually subject her but\nthe very man she had raised to be her principal support--I mean the\ncardinal.\nWe went from hence to Grenoble, and arrived there the same day that\nthe king and the cardinal with the whole court went out to view a body\nof 6000 Swiss foot, which the cardinal had wheedled the cantons to\ngrant to the king to help to ruin their neighbour the Duke of Savoy.\nThe troops were exceeding fine, well-accoutred, brave, clean-limbed,\nstout fellows indeed. Here I saw the cardinal; there was an air of\nchurch gravity in his habit, but all the vigour of a general, and\nthe sprightliness of a vast genius in his face. He affected a little\nstiffness in his behaviour, but managed all his affairs with such\nclearness, such steadiness, and such application, that it was no\nwonder he had such success in every undertaking.\nHere I saw the king, whose figure was mean, his countenance hollow,\nand always seemed dejected, and every way discovering that weakness in\nhis countenance that appeared in his actions.\nIf he was ever sprightly and vigorous it was when the cardinal was\nwith him, for he depended so much on everything he did, he that was at\nthe utmost dilemma when he was absent, always timorous, jealous, and\nirresolute.\nAfter the review the cardinal was absent some days, having been to\nwait on the queen-mother at Lyons, where, as it was discoursed, they\nwere at least seemingly reconciled.\nI observed while the cardinal was gone there was no court, the king\nwas seldom to be seen, very small attendance given, and no bustle at\nthe castle; but as soon as the cardinal returned, the great councils\nwere assembled, the coaches of the ambassadors went every day to the\ncastle, and a face of business appeared upon the whole court.\nHere the measures of the Duke of Savoy's ruin were concerted, and in\norder to it the king and the cardinal put themselves at the head\nof the army, with which they immediately reduced all Savoy, took\nChamberri and the whole duchy except Montmelian.\nThe army that did this was not above 22,000 men, including the Swiss,\nand but indifferent troops neither, especially the French foot, who,\ncompared to the infantry I have since seen in the German and Swedish\narmies, were not fit to be called soldiers. On the other hand,\nconsidering the Savoyards and Italian troops, they were good troops;\nbut the cardinal's conduct made amends for all these deficiencies.\nFrom hence I went to Pignerol, which was then little more than a\nsingle fortification on the hill near the town called St Bride's, but\nthe situation of that was very strong. I mention this because of the\nprodigious works since added to it, by which it has since obtained the\nname of \"the right hand of France.\" They had begun a new line below\nthe hill, and some works were marked out on the side of the town next\nthe fort; but the cardinal afterwards drew the plan of the works with\nhis own hand, by which it was made one of the strongest fortresses in\nEurope.\nWhile I was at Pignerol, the governor of Milan, for the Spaniards,\ncame with an army and sat down before Casale. The grand quarrel,\nand for which the war in this part of Italy was begun, was this: The\nSpaniards and Germans pretended to the duchy of Mantua; the Duke\nof Nevers, a Frenchman, had not only a title to it, but had got\npossession of it; but being ill-supported by the French, was beaten\nout by the Imperialists, and after a long siege the Germans took\nMantua itself, and drove the poor duke quite out of the country.\nThe taking of Mantua elevated the spirits of the Duke of Savoy, and\nthe Germans and Spaniards being now at more leisure, with a complete\narmy came to his assistance, and formed the siege of Montferrat.\nFor as the Spaniards pushed the Duke of Mantua, so the French by\nway of diversion lay hard upon the Duke of Savoy. They had seized\nMontferrat, and held it for the Duke of Mantua, and had a strong\nFrench garrison under Thoiras, a brave and experienced commander; and\nthus affairs stood when we came into the French army.\nI had no business there as a soldier, but having passed as a Scotch\ngentleman with the mob at Lyons, and after with her Majesty the\nqueen-mother, when we obtained the guard of her dragoons, we had also\nher Majesty's pass, with which we came and went where we pleased. And\nthe cardinal, who was then not on very good terms with the queen, but\nwilling to keep smooth water there, when two or three times our passes\ncame to be examined, showed a more than ordinary respect to us on that\nvery account, our passes being from the queen.\nCasale being besieged, as I have observed, began to be in danger, for\nthe cardinal, who 'twas thought had formed a design to ruin Savoy, was\nmore intent upon that than upon the succour of the Duke of Mantua; but\nnecessity calling upon him to deliver so great a captain as Thoiras,\nand not to let such a place as Casale fall into the hands of the\nenemy, the king, or cardinal rather, ordered the Duke of Montmorency,\nand the Mar\u00e9chal D'Effiat, with 10,000 foot and 2000 horse, to march\nand join the Mar\u00e9chals De La Force and Schomberg, who lay already with\nan army on the frontiers of Genoa, but too weak to attempt the raising\nthe siege of Casale.\nAs all men thought there would be a battle between the French and the\nSpaniards, I could not prevail with myself to lose the opportunity,\nand therefore by the help of the passes above mentioned, I came to\nthe French army under the Duke of Montmorency. We marched through the\nenemy's country with great boldness and no small hazard, for the Duke\nof Savoy appeared frequently with great bodies of horse on the rear of\nthe army, and frequently skirmished with our troops, in one of which\nI had the folly--I can call it no better, for I had no business\nthere--to go out and see the sport, as the French gentlemen called it.\nI was but a raw soldier, and did not like the sport at all, for this\nparty was surrounded by the Duke of Savoy, and almost all killed, for\nas to quarter they neither asked nor gave. I ran away very fairly,\none of the first, and my companion with me, and by the goodness of our\nhorses got out of the fray, and being not much known in the army, we\ncame into the camp an hour or two after, as if we had been only riding\nabroad for the air.\nThis little rout made the general very cautious, for the Savoyards\nwere stronger in horse by three or four thousand, and the army always\nmarched in a body, and kept their parties in or very near hand.\nI escaped another rub in this French army about five days after, which\nhad like to have made me pay dear for my curiosity.\nThe Duke de Montmorency and the Mar\u00e9chal Schomberg joined their army\nabout four or five days after, and immediately, according to the\ncardinal's instructions, put themselves on the march for the relief of\nCasale.\nThe army had marched over a great plain, with some marshy grounds\non the right and the Po on the left, and as the country was so well\ndiscovered that 'twas thought impossible any mischief should happen,\nthe generals observed the less caution. At the end of this plain was a\nlong wood and a lane or narrow defile through the middle of it.\nThrough this pass the army was to march, and the van began to file\nthrough it about four o'clock. By three hours' time all the army was\ngot through, or into the pass, and the artillery was just entered\nwhen the Duke of Savoy with 4000 horse and 1500 dragoons with every\nhorseman a footman behind him, whether he had swam the Po or passed it\nabove at a bridge, and made a long march after, was not examined, but\nhe came boldly up the plain and charged our rear with a great deal of\nfury.\nOur artillery was in the lane, and as it was impossible to turn them\nabout and make way for the army, so the rear was obliged to support\nthemselves and maintain the fight for above an hour and a half.\nIn this time we lost abundance of men, and if it had not been for two\naccidents all that line had been cut off. One was, that the wood was\nso near that those regiments which were disordered presently sheltered\nthemselves in the wood; the other was, that by this time the Mar\u00e9chal\nSchomberg, with the horse of the van, began to get back through the\nlane, and to make good the ground from whence the other had been\nbeaten, till at last by this means it came to almost a pitched battle.\nThere were two regiments of French dragoons who did excellent service\nin this action, and maintained their ground till they were almost all\nkilled.\nHad the Duke of Savoy contented himself with the defeat of five\nregiments on the right, which he quite broke and drove into the wood,\nand with the slaughter and havoc which he had made among the rest,\nhe had come off with honour, and might have called it a victory; but\nendeavouring to break the whole party and carry off some cannon, the\nobstinate resistance of these few dragoons lost him his advantages,\nand held him in play till so many fresh troops got through the pass\nagain as made us too strong for him, and had not night parted them he\nhad been entirely defeated.\nAt last, finding our troops increase and spread themselves on his\nflank, he retired and gave over. We had no great stomach to pursue him\nneither, though some horse were ordered to follow a little way.\nThe duke lost about a thousand men, and we almost twice as many, and\nbut for those dragoons had lost the whole rear-guard and half our\ncannon. I was in a very sorry case in this action too. I was with the\nrear in the regiment of horse of Perigoort, with a captain of which\nregiment I had contracted some acquaintance. I would have rid off at\nfirst, as the captain desired me, but there was no doing it, for the\ncannon was in the lane, and the horse and dragoons of the van eagerly\npressing back through the lane must have run me down or carried me\nwith them. As for the wood, it was a good shelter to save one's life,\nbut was so thick there was no passing it on horseback.\nOur regiment was one of the first that was broke, and being all in\nconfusion, with the Duke of Savoy's men at our heels, away we ran into\nthe wood. Never was there so much disorder among a parcel of runaways\nas when we came to this wood; it was so exceeding bushy and thick at\nthe bottom there was no entering it, and a volley of small shot from\na regiment of Savoy's dragoons poured in upon us at our breaking into\nthe wood made terrible work among our horses.\nFor my part I was got into the wood, but was forced to quit my horse,\nand by that means, with a great deal of difficulty, got a little\nfarther in, where there was a little open place, and being quite spent\nwith labouring among the bushes I sat down resolving to take my fate\nthere, let it be what it would, for I was not able to go any farther.\nI had twenty or thirty more in the same condition come to me in less\nthan half-an-hour, and here we waited very securely the success of the\nbattle, which was as before.\nIt was no small relief to those with me to hear the Savoyards were\nbeaten, for otherwise they had all been lost; as for me, I confess,\nI was glad as it was because of the danger, but otherwise I cared not\nmuch which had the better, for I designed no service among them.\nOne kindness it did me, that I began to consider what I had to do\nhere, and as I could give but a very slender account of myself for\nwhat it was I run all these risks, so I resolved they should fight it\namong themselves, for I would come among them no more.\nThe captain with whom, as I noted above, I had contracted some\nacquaintance in this regiment, was killed in this action, and the\nFrench had really a great blow here, though they took care to conceal\nit all they could; and I cannot, without smiling, read some of the\nhistories and memoirs of this action, which they are not ashamed to\ncall a victory.\nWe marched on to Saluzzo, and the next day the Duke of Savoy presented\nhimself in battalia on the other side of a small river, giving us a\nfair challenge to pass and engage him. We always said in our camp that\nthe orders were to fight the Duke of Savoy wherever we met him; but\nthough he braved us in our view we did not care to engage him, but we\nbrought Saluzzo to surrender upon articles, which the duke could not\nrelieve without attacking our camp, which he did not care to do.\nThe next morning we had news of the surrender of Mantua to the\nImperial army. We heard of it first from the Duke of Savoy's cannon,\nwhich he fired by way of rejoicing, and which seemed to make him\namends for the loss of Saluzzo.\nAs this was a mortification to the French, so it quite damped the\nsuccess of the campaign, for the Duke de Montmorency imagining that\nthe Imperial general would send immediate assistance to the Marquis\nSpinola, who besieged Casale, they called frequent councils of war\nwhat course to take, and at last resolved to halt in Piedmont. A few\ndays after their resolutions were changed again by the news of the\ndeath of the Duke of Savoy, Charles Emanuel, who died, as some say,\nagitated with the extremes of joy and grief.\nThis put our generals upon considering again whether they should march\nto the relief of Casale, but the chimera of the Germans put them by,\nand so they took up quarters in Piedmont. They took several small\nplaces from the Duke of Savoy, making advantage of the consternation\nthe duke's subjects were in on the death of their prince, and spread\nthemselves from the seaside to the banks of the Po. But here an enemy\ndid that for them which the Savoyards could not, for the plague got\ninto their quarters and destroyed abundance of people, both of the\narmy and of the country.\nI thought then it was time for me to be gone, for I had no manner of\ncourage for that risk; and I think verily I was more afraid of being\ntaken sick in a strange country than ever I was of being killed in\nbattle. Upon this resolution I procured a pass to go for Genoa, and\naccordingly began my journey, but was arrested at Villa Franca by a\nslow lingering fever, which held me about five days, and then turned\nto a burning malignancy, and at last to the plague. My friend, the\ncaptain, never left me night nor day; and though for four days more I\nknew nobody, nor was capable of so much as thinking of myself, yet it\npleased God that the distemper gathered in my neck, swelled and broke.\nDuring the swelling I was raging mad with the violence of pain, which\nbeing so near my head swelled that also in proportion, that my eyes\nwere swelled up, and for the twenty-four hours my tongue and mouth;\nthen, as my servant told me, all the physicians gave me over, as past\nall remedy, but by the good providence of God the swelling broke.\nThe prodigious collection of matter which this swelling discharged\ngave me immediate relief, and I became sensible in less than an hour's\ntime; and in two hours or thereabouts fell into a little slumber which\nrecovered my spirits and sensibly revived me. Here I lay by it till\nthe middle of September. My captain fell sick after me, but recovered\nquickly. His man had the plague, and died in two days; my man held it\nout well.\nAbout the middle of September we heard of a truce concluded between\nall parties, and being unwilling to winter at Villa Franca, I got\npasses, and though we were both but weak, we began to travel in\nlitters for Milan.\nAnd here I experienced the truth of an old English proverb, that\nstanders-by see more than the gamesters.\nThe French, Savoyards, and Spaniards made this peace or truce all for\nseparate and several grounds, and every one were mistaken.\nThe French yielded to it because they had given over the relief of\nCasale, and were very much afraid it would fall into the hands of the\nMarquis Spinola. The Savoyards yielded to it because they were afraid\nthe French would winter in Piedmont; the Spaniards yielded to it\nbecause the Duke of Savoy being dead, and the Count de Colalto, the\nImperial general, giving no assistance, and his army weakened by\nsickness and the fatigues of the siege, he foresaw he should never\ntake the town, and wanted but to come off with honour.\nThe French were mistaken, because really Spinola was so weak that had\nthey marched on into Montferrat the Spaniards must have raised the\nsiege; the Duke of Savoy was mistaken, because the plague had so\nweakened the French that they durst not have stayed to winter in\nPiedmont; and Spinola was mistaken, for though he was very slow, if he\nhad stayed before the town one fortnight longer, Thoiras the governor\nmust have surrendered, being brought to the last extremity.\nOf all these mistakes the French had the advantage, for Casale, was\nrelieved, the army had time to be recruited, and the French had the\nbest of it by an early campaign.\nI passed through Montferrat in my way to Milan just as the truce was\ndeclared, and saw the miserable remains of the Spanish army, who by\nsickness, fatigue, hard duty, the sallies of the garrison and such\nlike consequences, were reduced to less than 2000 men, and of them\nabove 1000 lay wounded and sick in the camp.\nHere were several regiments which I saw drawn out to their arms that\ncould not make up above seventy or eighty men, officers and all, and\nthose half starved with hunger, almost naked, and in a lamentable\ncondition. From thence I went into the town, and there things were\nstill in a worse condition, the houses beaten down, the walls and\nworks ruined, the garrison, by continual duty, reduced from 4500 men\nto less than 800, without clothes, money, or provisions, the brave\ngovernor weak with continual fatigue, and the whole face of things in\na miserable case.\nThe French generals had just sent them 30,000 crowns for present\nsupply, which heartened them a little, but had not the truce been made\nas it was, they must have surrendered upon what terms the Spaniards\nhad pleased to make them.\nNever were two armies in such fear of one another with so little\ncause; the Spaniards afraid of the French whom the plague had\ndevoured, and the French afraid of the Spaniards whom the siege had\nalmost ruined.\nThe grief of this mistake, together with the sense of his master,\nthe Spaniards, leaving him without supplies to complete the siege of\nCasale, so affected the Marquis Spinola, that he died for grief, and\nin him fell the last of that rare breed of Low Country soldiers, who\ngave the world so great and just a character of the Spanish infantry,\nas the best soldiers of the world; a character which we see them so\nvery much degenerated from since, that they hardly deserve the name of\nsoldiers.\nI tarried at Milan the rest of the winter, both for the recovery of my\nhealth, and also for supplies from England.\nHere it was I first heard the name of Gustavus Adolphus, the king of\nSweden, who now began his war with the emperor; and while the king\nof France was at Lyons, the league with Sweden was made, in which the\nFrench contributed 1,200,000 crowns in money, and 600,000 per annum\nto the attempt of Gustavus Adolphus. About this time he landed in\nPomerania, took the towns of Stettin and Stralsund, and from thence\nproceeded in that prodigious manner of which I shall have occasion to\nbe very particular in the prosecution of these Memoirs.\nI had indeed no thoughts of seeing that king or his armies. I had\nbeen so roughly handled already, that I had given over the thoughts\nof appearing among the fighting people, and resolved in the spring\nto pursue my journey to Venice, and so for the rest of Italy. Yet\nI cannot deny that as every Gazette gave us some accounts of the\nconquests and victories of this glorious prince, it prepossessed my\nthoughts with secret wishes of seeing him, but these were so young\nand unsettled, that I drew no resolutions from them for a long while\nafter.\nAbout the middle of January I left Milan and came to Genoa, from\nthence by sea to Leghorn, then to Naples, Rome, and Venice, but saw\nnothing in Italy that gave me any diversion.\nAs for what is modern, I saw nothing but lewdness, private murders,\nstabbing men at the corner of a street, or in the dark, hiring of\nbravos, and the like. These were to me the modern excellencies of\nItaly; and I had no gust to antiquities.\n'Twas pleasant indeed when I was at Rome to say here stood the\nCapitol, there the Colossus of Nero, here was the Amphitheatre of\nTitus, there the Aqueduct of----, here the Forum, there the Catacombs,\nhere the Temple of Venus, there of Jupiter, here the Pantheon, and the\nlike; but I never designed to write a book. As much as was useful I\nkept in my head, and for the rest, I left it to others.\nI observed the people degenerated from the ancient glorious\ninhabitants, who were generous, brave, and the most valiant of all\nnations, to a vicious baseness of soul, barbarous, treacherous,\njealous and revengeful, lewd and cowardly, intolerably proud and\nhaughty, bigoted to blind, incoherent devotion, and the grossest of\nidolatry.\nIndeed, I think the unsuitableness of the people made the place\nunpleasant to me, for there is so little in a country to recommend it\nwhen the people disgrace it, that no beauties of the creation can make\nup for the want of those excellencies which suitable society procure\nthe defect of. This made Italy a very unpleasant country to me;\nthe people were the foil to the place, all manner of hateful vices\nreigning in their general way of living.\nI confess I was not very religious myself, and being come abroad into\nthe world young enough, might easily have been drawn into evils that\nhad recommended themselves with any tolerable agreeableness to nature\nand common manners; but when wickedness presented itself full-grown in\nits grossest freedoms and liberties, it quite took away all the gust\nto vice that the devil had furnished me with.\nThe prodigious stupid bigotry of the people also was irksome to me; I\nthought there was something in it very sordid. The entire empire the\npriests have over both the souls and bodies of the people, gave me a\nspecimen of that meanness of spirit, which is nowhere else to be seen\nbut in Italy, especially in the city of Rome.\nAt Venice I perceived it quite different, the civil authority having\na visible superiority over the ecclesiastic, and the Church being more\nsubject there to the State than in any other part of Italy.\nFor these reasons I took no pleasure in filling my memoirs of Italy\nwith remarks of places or things. All the antiquities and valuable\nremains of the Roman nation are done better than I can pretend to by\nsuch people who made it more their business; as for me, I went to see,\nand not to write, and as little thought then of these Memoirs as I ill\nfurnished myself to write them.\nI left Italy in April, and taking the tour of Bavaria, though very\nmuch out of the way, I passed through Munich, Passau, Lintz, and at\nlast to Vienna.\nI came to Vienna the 10th of April 1631, intending to have gone from\nthence down the Danube into Hungary, and by means of a pass, which I\nhad obtained from the English ambassador at Constantinople, I designed\nto have seen all the great towns on the Danube, which were then in the\nhands of the Turks, and which I had read much of in the history of\nthe war between the Turks and the Germans; but I was diverted from my\ndesign by the following occasion.\nThere had been a long bloody war in the empire of Germany for twelve\nyears, between the emperor, the Duke of Bavaria, the King of\nSpain, and the Popish princes and electors on the one side, and the\nProtestant princes on the other; and both sides having been exhausted\nby the war, and even the Catholics themselves beginning to dislike the\ngrowing power of the house of Austria, 'twas thought all parties were\nwilling to make peace. Nay, things were brought to that pass that some\nof the Popish princes and electors began to talk of making alliances\nwith the King of Sweden.\nHere it is necessary to observe, that the two Dukes of Mecklenburg\nhaving been dispossessed of most of their dominions by the tyranny\nof the Emperor Ferdinand, and being in danger of losing the rest,\nearnestly solicited the King of Sweden to come to their assistance;\nand that prince, as he was related to the house of Mecklenburg, and\nespecially as he was willing to lay hold of any opportunity to break\nwith the emperor, against whom he had laid up an implacable prejudice,\nwas very ready and forward to come to their assistance.\nThe reasons of his quarrel with the emperor were grounded upon the\nImperialists concerning themselves in the war of Poland, where the\nemperor had sent 8000 foot and 2000 horse to join the Polish army\nagainst the king, and had thereby given some check to his arms in that\nwar.\nIn pursuance, therefore, of his resolution to quarrel with the\nemperor, but more particularly at the instances of the princes\nabove-named, his Swedish Majesty had landed the year before at\nStralsund with about 12,000 men, and having joined with some forces\nwhich he had left in Polish Prussia, all which did not make 30,000\nmen, he began a war with the emperor, the greatest in event, filled\nwith the most famous battles, sieges, and extraordinary actions,\nincluding its wonderful success and happy conclusion, of any war ever\nmaintained in the world.\nThe King of Sweden had already taken Stettin, Stralsund, Rostock,\nWismar, and all the strong places on the Baltic, and began to spread\nhimself in Germany. He had made a league with the French, as I\nobserved in my story of Saxony; he had now made a treaty with the Duke\nof Brandenburg, and, in short, began to be terrible to the empire.\nIn this conjuncture the emperor called the General Diet of the empire\nto be held at Ratisbon, where, as was pretended, all sides were\nto treat of peace and to join forces to beat the Swedes out of the\nempire. Here the emperor, by a most exquisite management, brought the\naffairs of the Diet to a conclusion, exceedingly to his own advantage,\nand to the farther oppression of the Protestants; and, in particular,\nin that the war against the King of Sweden was to be carried on in\nsuch manner as that the whole burden and charge would lie on the\nProtestants themselves, and they be made the instruments to oppose\ntheir best friends. Other matters also ended equally to their\ndisadvantage, as the methods resolved on to recover the Church lands,\nand to prevent the education of the Protestant clergy; and what\nremained was referred to another General Diet to be held at\nFrankfort-au-Main in August 1631.\nI won't pretend to say the other Protestant princes of Germany had\nnever made any overtures to the King of Sweden to come to their\nassistance, but 'tis plain they had entered into no league with him;\nthat appears from the difficulties which retarded the fixing of the\ntreaties afterward, both with the Dukes of Brandenburg and Saxony,\nwhich unhappily occasioned the ruin of Magdeburg.\nBut 'tis plain the Swede was resolved on a war with the emperor. His\nSwedish majesty might, and indeed could not but foresee that if he\nonce showed himself with a sufficient force on the frontiers of the\nempire, all the Protestant princes would be obliged by their interest\nor by his arms to fall in with him, and this the consequence made\nappear to be a just conclusion, for the Electors of Brandenburg and\nSaxony were both forced to join with him.\nFirst, they were willing to join with him--at least they could not\nfind in their hearts to join with the emperor, of whose power they\nhad such just apprehensions. They wished the Swedes success, and would\nhave been very glad to have had the work done at another man's charge,\nbut, like true Germans, they were more willing to be saved than to\nsave themselves, and therefore hung back and stood upon terms.\nSecondly, they were at last forced to it. The first was forced to join\nby the King of Sweden himself, who being come so far was not to be\ndallied with, and had not the Duke of Brandenburg complied as he did,\nhe had been ruined by the Swede. The Saxon was driven into the arms\nof the Swede by force, for Count Tilly, ravaging his country, made him\ncomply with any terms to be saved from destruction.\nThus matters stood at the end of the Diet at Ratisbon. The King\nof Sweden began to see himself leagued against at the Diet both by\nProtestant and Papist; and, as I have often heard his Majesty say\nsince, he had resolved to try to force them off from the emperor, and\nto treat them as enemies equally with the rest if they did not.\nBut the Protestants convinced him soon after, that though they\nwere tricked into the outward appearance of a league against him at\nRatisbon, they had no such intentions; and by their ambassadors to him\nlet him know that they only wanted his powerful assistance to defend\ntheir councils, when they would soon convince him that they had a due\nsense of the emperor's designs, and would do their utmost for their\nliberty. And these I take to be the first invitations the King of\nSweden had to undertake the Protestant cause as such, and which\nentitled him to say he fought for the liberty and religion of the\nGerman nation.\nI have had some particular opportunities to hear these things form the\nmouths of some of the very princes themselves, and therefore am the\nforwarder to relate them; and I place them here because, previous\nto the part I acted on this bloody scene, 'tis necessary to let the\nreader into some part of that story, and to show him in what manner\nand on what occasions this terrible war began.\nThe Protestants, alarmed at the usage they had met with at the former\nDiet, had secretly proposed among themselves to form a general union\nor confederacy, for preventing that ruin which they saw, unless some\nspeedy remedies were applied, would be inevitable. The Elector of\nSaxony, the head of the Protestants, a vigorous and politic prince,\nwas the first that moved it; and the Landgrave of Hesse, a zealous and\ngallant prince, being consulted with, it rested a great while between\nthose two, no method being found practicable to bring it to pass, the\nemperor being so powerful in all parts, that they foresaw the petty\nprinces would not dare to negotiate an affair of such a nature,\nbeing surrounded with the Imperial forces, who by their two generals,\nWallenstein and Tilly, kept them in continual subjection and terror.\nThis dilemma had like to have stifled the thoughts of the union as\na thing impracticable, when one Seigensius, a Lutheran minister, a\nperson of great abilities, and one whom the Elector of Saxony made\ngreat use of in matters of policy as well as religion, contrived for\nthem this excellent expedient.\nI had the honour to be acquainted with this gentleman while I was at\nLeipsic. It pleased him exceedingly to have been the contriver of so\nfine a structure as the Conclusions of Leipsic, and he was glad to be\nentertained on that subject. I had the relation from his own mouth,\nwhen, but very modestly, he told me he thought 'twas an inspiration\ndarted on a sudden into his thoughts, when the Duke of Saxony calling\nhim into his closet one morning, with a face full of concern, shaking\nhis head, and looking very earnestly, \"What will become of us,\ndoctor?\" said the duke; \"we shall all be undone at Frankfort-au-Main.\"\n\"Why so, please your highness?\" says the doctor. \"Why, they will fight\nwith the King of Sweden with our armies and our money,\" says the duke,\n\"and devour our friends and ourselves by the help of our friends and\nourselves.\" \"But what is become of the confederacy, then,\" said the\ndoctor, \"which your highness had so happily framed in your thoughts,\nand which the Landgrave of Hesse was so pleased with?\" \"Become of it?\"\nsays the duke, \"'tis a good thought enough, but 'tis impossible to\nbring it to pass among so many members of the Protestant princes as\nare to be consulted with, for we neither have time to treat, nor will\nhalf of them dare to negotiate the matter, the Imperialists being\nquartered in their very bowels.\" \"But may not some expedient be found\nout,\" says the doctor, \"to bring them all together to treat of it in\na general meeting?\" \"'Tis well proposed,\" says the duke, \"but in what\ntown or city shall they assemble where the very deputies shall not\nbe besieged by Tilly or Wallenstein in fourteen days' time, and\nsacrificed to the cruelty and fury of the Emperor Ferdinand?\" \"Will\nyour highness be the easier in it,\" replies the doctor, \"if a way may\nbe found out to call such an assembly upon other causes, at which the\nemperor may have no umbrage, and perhaps give his assent? You know the\nDiet at Frankfort is at hand; 'tis necessary the Protestants should\nhave an assembly of their own to prepare matters for the General Diet,\nand it may be no difficult matter to obtain it.\" The duke, surprised\nwith joy at the motion, embraced the doctor with an extraordinary\ntransport. \"Thou hast done it, doctor,\" said he, and immediately\ncaused him to draw a form of a letter to the emperor, which he did\nwith the utmost dexterity of style, in which he was a great master,\nrepresenting to his Imperial Majesty that, in order to put an end to\nthe troubles of Germany, his Majesty would be pleased to permit the\nProtestant princes of the empire to hold a Diet to themselves, to\nconsider of such matters as they were to treat of at the General\nDiet, in order to conform themselves to the will and pleasure of his\nImperial Majesty, to drive out foreigners, and settle a lasting peace\nin the empire. He also insinuated something of their resolutions\nunanimously to give their suffrages in favour of the King of Hungary\nat the election of a king of the Romans, a thing which he knew the\nemperor had in his thought, and would push at with all his might at\nthe Diet. This letter was sent, and the bait so neatly concealed, that\nthe Electors of Bavaria and Mentz, the King of Hungary, and several\nof the Popish princes, not foreseeing that the ruin of them all lay in\nthe bottom of it, foolishly advised the emperor to consent to it.\nIn consenting to this the emperor signed his own destruction, for here\nbegan the conjunction of the German Protestants with the Swede, which\nwas the fatalest blow to Ferdinand, and which he could never recover.\nAccordingly the Diet was held at Leipsic, February 8, 1630, where the\nProtestants agreed on several heads for their mutual defence,\nwhich were the grounds of the following war. These were the famous\nConclusions of Leipsic, which so alarmed the emperor and the whole\nempire, that to crush it in the beginning, the emperor commanded Count\nTilly immediately to fall upon the Landgrave of Hesse and the Duke of\nSaxony as the principal heads of the union; but it was too late.\nThe Conclusions were digested into ten heads:--\n1. That since their sins had brought God's judgments upon the whole\nProtestant Church, they should command public prayers to be made to\nAlmighty God for the diverting the calamities that attended them.\n2. That a treaty of peace might be set on foot, in order to come to a\nright understanding with the Catholic princes.\n3. That a time for such a treaty being obtained, they should appoint\nan assembly of delegates to meet preparatory to the treaty.\n4. That all their complaints should be humbly represented to his\nImperial Majesty and the Catholic Electors, in order to a peaceable\naccommodation.\n5. That they claim the protection of the emperor, according to the\nlaws of the empire, and the present emperor's solemn oath and promise.\n6. That they would appoint deputies who should meet at certain\ntimes to consult of their common interest, and who should be always\nempowered to conclude of what should be thought needful for their\nsafety.\n7. That they will raise a competent force to maintain and defend their\nliberties, rights, and religion.\n8. That it is agreeable to the Constitution of the empire, concluded\nin the Diet at Augsburg, to do so.\n9. That the arming for their necessary defence shall by no means\nhinder their obedience to his Imperial Majesty, but that they will\nstill continue their loyalty to him.\n10. They agree to proportion their forces, which in all amounted to\nThe emperor, exceedingly startled at the Conclusions, issued out a\nsevere proclamation or ban against them, which imported much the\nsame thing as a declaration of war, and commanded Tilly to begin,\nand immediately to fall on the Duke of Saxony with all the fury\nimaginable, as I have already observed.\nHere began the flame to break out; for upon the emperor's ban, the\nProtestants send away to the King of Sweden for succour.\nHis Swedish Majesty had already conquered Mecklenburg, and part of\nPomerania, and was advancing with his victorious troops, increased\nby the addition of some regiments raised in those parts, in order to\ncarry on the war against the emperor, having designed to follow up\nthe Oder into Silesia, and so to push the war home to the emperor's\nhereditary countries of Austria and Bohemia, when the first messengers\ncame to him in this case; but this changed his measures, and brought\nhim to the frontiers of Brandenburg resolved to answer the desires\nof the Protestants. But here the Duke of Brandenburg began to halt,\nmaking some difficulties and demanding terms, which drove the king to\nuse some extremities with him, and stopped the Swedes for a while,\nwho had otherwise been on the banks of the Elbe as soon as Tilly,\nthe Imperial general, had entered Saxony, which if they had done, the\nmiserable destruction of Magdeburg had been prevented, as I observed\nbefore. The king had been invited into the union, and when he first\ncame back from the banks of the Oder he had accepted it, and was\npreparing to back it with all his power.\nThe Duke of Saxony had already a good army which he had with infinite\ndiligence recruited, and mustered them under the cannon of Leipsic.\nThe King of Sweden having, by his ambassador at Leipsic, entered into\nthe union of the Protestants, was advancing victoriously to their aid,\njust as Count Tilly had entered the Duke of Saxony's dominions. The\nfame of the Swedish conquests, and of the hero who commanded them,\nshook my resolution of travelling into Turkey, being resolved to see\nthe conjunction of the Protestant armies, and before the fire was\nbroke out too far to take the advantage of seeing both sides.\nWhile I remained at Vienna, uncertain which way I should proceed, I\nremember I observed they talked of the King of Sweden as a prince of\nno consideration, one that they might let go on and tire himself in\nMecklenburg and thereabout, till they could find leisure to deal with\nhim, and then might be crushed as they pleased; but 'tis never safe\nto despise an enemy, so this was not an enemy to be despised, as they\nafterwards found.\nAs to the Conclusions of Leipsic, indeed, at first they gave the\nImperial court some uneasiness, but when they found the Imperial\narmies, began to fright the members out of the union, and that the\nseveral branches had no considerable forces on foot, it was the\ngeneral discourse at Vienna, that the union at Leipsic only gave\nthe emperor an opportunity to crush absolutely the Dukes of Saxony,\nBrandenburg, and the Landgrave of Hesse, and they looked upon it as a\nthing certain.\nI never saw any real concern in their faces at Vienna till news came\nto court that the King of Sweden had entered into the union; but as\nthis made them very uneasy, they began to move the powerfulest methods\npossible to divert this storm; and upon this news Tilly was hastened\nto fall into Saxony before this union could proceed to a conjunction\nof forces. This was certainly a very good resolution, and no measure\ncould have been more exactly concerted, had not the diligence of the\nSaxons prevented it.\nThe gathering of this storm, which from a cloud began to spread over\nthe empire, and from the little duchy of Mecklenburg began to threaten\nall Germany, absolutely determined me, as I noted before, as to\ntravelling, and laying aside the thoughts of Hungary, I resolved, if\npossible, to see the King of Sweden's army.\nI parted from Vienna the middle of May, and took post for Great Glogau\nin Silesia, as if I had purposed to pass into Poland, but designing\nindeed to go down the Oder to Custrim in the marquisate of\nBrandenburg, and so to Berlin. But when I came to the frontiers of\nSilesia, though I had passes, I could go no farther, the guards on\nall the frontiers were so strict, so I was obliged to come back into\nBohemia, and went to Prague. From hence I found I could easily pass\nthrough the Imperial provinces to the lower Saxony, and accordingly\ntook passes for Hamburg, designing, however, to use them no farther\nthan I found occasion.\nBy virtue of these passes I got into the Imperial army, under Count\nTilly, then at the siege of Magdeburg, May the 2nd.\nI confess I did not foresee the fate of this city, neither, I believe,\ndid Count Tilly himself expect to glut his fury with so entire a\ndesolation, much less did the people expect it. I did believe they\nmust capitulate, and I perceived by discourse in the army that Tilly\nwould give them but very indifferent conditions; but it fell out\notherwise. The treaty of surrender was, as it were, begun, nay, some\nsay concluded, when some of the out-guards of the Imperialists finding\nthe citizens had abandoned the guards of the works, and looked to\nthemselves with less diligence than usual, they broke in, carried an\nhalf-moon, sword in hand, with little resistance; and though it was\na surprise on both sides, the citizens neither fearing, nor the army\nexpecting the occasion, the garrison, with as much resolution as could\nbe expected under such a fright, flew to the walls, twice beat the\nImperialists off, but fresh men coming up, and the administrator of\nMagdeburg himself being wounded and taken, the enemy broke in, took\nthe city by storm, and entered with such terrible fury, that,\nwithout respect to age or condition, they put all the garrison and\ninhabitants, man, woman, and child, to the sword, plundered the city,\nand when they had done this set it on fire.\nThis calamity sure was the dreadfulest sight that ever I saw; the\nrage of the Imperial soldiers was most intolerable, and not to be\nexpressed. Of 25,000, some said 30,000 people, there was not a soul to\nbe seen alive, till the flames drove those that were hid in vaults and\nsecret places to seek death in the streets rather than perish in the\nfire. Of these miserable creatures some were killed too by the furious\nsoldiers, but at last they saved the lives of such as came out of\ntheir cellars and holes, and so about two thousand poor desperate\ncreatures were left. The exact number of those that perished in\nthis city could never be known, because those the soldiers had first\nbutchered the flames afterwards devoured.\nI was on the outer side of the Elbe when this dreadful piece of\nbutchery was done. The city of Magdeburg had a sconce or fort over\nagainst it called the toll-house, which joined to the city by a very\nfine bridge of boats. This fort was taken by the Imperialists a few\ndays before, and having a mind to see it, and the rather because from\nthence I could have a very good view of the city, I was going over\nTilley's bridge of boats to view this fort. About ten o'clock in the\nmorning I perceived they were storming by the firing, and immediately\nall ran to the works; I little thought of the taking the city, but\nimagined it might be some outwork attacked, for we all expected\nthe city would surrender that day, or next, and they might have\ncapitulated upon very good terms.\nBeing upon the works of the fort, on a sudden I heard the dreadfulest\ncry raised in the city that can be imagined; 'tis not possible to\nexpress the manner of it, and I could see the women and children\nrunning about the streets in a most lamentable condition.\nThe city wall did not run along the side where the river was with\nso great a height, but we could plainly see the market-place and the\nseveral streets which run down to the river. In about an hour's time\nafter this first cry all was in confusion; there was little shooting,\nthe execution was all cutting of throats and mere house murders. The\nresolute garrison, with the brave Baron Falkenberg, fought it out\nto the last, and were cut in pieces, and by this time the Imperial\nsoldiers having broke open the gates and entered on all sides, the\nslaughter was very dreadful. We could see the poor people in crowds\ndriven down the streets, flying from the fury of the soldiers, who\nfollowed butchering them as fast as they could, and refused mercy to\nanybody, till driving them to the river's edge, the desperate wretches\nwould throw themselves into the river, where thousands of them\nperished, especially women and children. Several men that could swim\ngot over to our side, where the soldiers not heated with fight gave\nthem quarter, and took them up, and I cannot but do this justice to\nthe German officers in the fort: they had five small flat boats, and\nthey gave leave to the soldiers to go off in them, and get what booty\nthey could, but charged them not to kill anybody, but take them all\nprisoners.\nNor was their humanity ill rewarded, for the soldiers, wisely avoiding\nthose places where their fellows were employed in butchering the\nmiserable people, rowed to other places, where crowds of people stood\ncrying out for help, and expecting to be every minute either drowned\nor murdered; of these at sundry times they fetched over near six\nhundred, but took care to take in none but such as offered them good\npay.\nNever was money or jewels of greater service than now, for those that\nhad anything of that sort to offer were soonest helped.\nThere was a burgher of the town who, seeing a boat coming near him,\nbut out of his call, by the help of a speaking trumpet, told the\nsoldiers in it he would give them 20,000 dollars to fetch him off.\nThey rowed close to the shore, and got him with his wife and six\nchildren into the boat, but such throngs of people got about the boat\nthat had like to have sunk her, so that the soldiers were fain to\ndrive a great many out again by main force, and while they were doing\nthis some of the enemies coming down the street desperately drove them\nall into the water.\nThe boat, however, brought the burgher and his wife and children safe,\nand though they had not all that wealth about them, yet in jewels and\nmoney he gave them so much as made all the fellows very rich.\nI cannot pretend to describe the cruelty of this day: the town by\nfive in the afternoon was all in a flame; the wealth consumed was\ninestimable, and a loss to the very conqueror. I think there was\nlittle or nothing left but the great church and about a hundred\nhouses.\nThis was a sad welcome into the army for me, and gave me a horror and\naversion to the emperor's people, as well as to his cause. I quitted\nthe camp the third day after this execution, while the fire was hardly\nout in the city; and from thence getting safe-conduct to pass into the\nPalatinate, I turned out of the road at a small village on the Elbe,\ncalled Emerfield, and by ways and towns I can give but small account\nof, having a boor for our guide, whom we could hardly understand, I\narrived at Leipsic on the 17th of May.\nWe found the elector intense upon the strengthening of his army, but\nthe people in the greatest terror imaginable, every day expecting\nTilly with the German army, who by his cruelty at Magdeburg was become\nso dreadful to the Protestants that they expected no mercy wherever he\ncame.\nThe emperor's power was made so formidable to all the Protestants,\nparticularly since the Diet at Ratisbon left them in a worse case\nthan it found them, that they had not only formed the Conclusions of\nLeipsic, which all men looked on as the effect of desperation rather\nthan any probable means of their deliverance, but had privately\nimplored the protection and assistance of foreign powers, and\nparticularly the King of Sweden, from whom they had promises of a\nspeedy and powerful assistance. And truly if the Swede had not with\na very strong hand rescued them, all their Conclusions at Leipsic had\nserved but to hasten their ruin. I remember very well when I was in\nthe Imperial army they discoursed with such contempt of the forces\nof the Protestant, that not only the Imperialists but the Protestants\nthemselves gave them up as lost. The emperor had not less than 200,000\nmen in several armies on foot, who most of them were on the back of\nthe Protestants in every corner. If Tilly did but write a threatening\nletter to any city or prince of the union, they presently submitted,\nrenounced the Conclusions of Leipsic, and received Imperial garrisons,\nas the cities of Ulm and Memmingen, the duchy of Wirtemberg, and\nseveral others, and almost all Suaben.\nOnly the Duke of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse upheld the drooping\ncourage of the Protestants, and refused all terms of peace, slighted\nall the threatenings of the Imperial generals, and the Duke of\nBrandenburg was brought in afterward almost by force.\nThe Duke of Saxony mustered his forces under the walls of Leipsic,\nand I having returned to Leipsic, two days before, saw them pass the\nreview. The duke, gallantly mounted, rode through the ranks, attended\nby his field-marshal Arnheim, and seemed mighty well pleased with\nthem, and indeed the troops made a very fine appearance; but I that\nhad seen Tilly's army and his old weather-beaten soldiers, whose\ndiscipline and exercises were so exact, and their courage so often\ntried, could not look on the Saxon army without some concern for them\nwhen I considered who they had to deal with. Tilly's men were rugged\nsurly fellows, their faces had an air of hardy courage, mangled with\nwounds and scars, their armour showed the bruises of musket bullets,\nand the rust of the winter storms. I observed of them their clothes\nwere always dirty, but their arms were clean and bright; they were\nused to camp in the open fields, and sleep in the frosts and rain;\ntheir horses were strong and hardy like themselves, and well taught\ntheir exercises; the soldiers knew their business so exactly that\ngeneral orders were enough; every private man was fit to command, and\ntheir wheelings, marchings, counter-marchings and exercise were done\nwith such order and readiness, that the distinct words of command\nwere hardly of any use among them; they were flushed with victory, and\nhardly knew what it was to fly.\nThere had passed some messages between Tilly and the duke, and he gave\nalways such ambiguous answers as he thought might serve to gain time;\nbut Tilly was not to be put off with words, and drawing his army\ntowards Saxony, sends four propositions to him to sign, and demands an\nimmediate reply. The propositions were positive.\n1. To cause his troops to enter into the emperor's service, and to\nmarch in person with them against the King of Sweden.\n2. To give the Imperial army quarters in his country, and supply them\nwith necessary provisions.\n3. To relinquish the union of Leipsic, and disown the ten Conclusions.\n4. To make restitution of the goods and lands of the Church.\nThe duke being pressed by Tilly's trumpeter for an immediate answer\nsat all night, and part of the next day, in council with his privy\ncouncillors, debating what reply to give him, which at last was\nconcluded, in short, that he would live and die in defence of the\nProtestant religion, and the Conclusions of Leipsic, and bade Tilly\ndefiance.\nThe die being thus cast, he immediately decamped with his whole army\nfor Torgau, fearing that Tilly should get there before him, and so\nprevent his conjunction with the Swede. The duke had not yet concluded\nany positive treaty with the King of Swedeland, and the Duke of\nBrandenburg having made some difficulty of joining, they both stood\non some niceties till they had like to have ruined themselves all at\nonce.\nBrandenburg had given up the town of Spandau to the king by a former\ntreaty to secure a retreat for his army, and the king was advanced\nas far as Frankfort-upon-the-Oder, when on a sudden some small\ndifficulties arising, Brandenburg seems cold in the matter, and with\na sort of indifference demands to have his town of Spandau restored to\nhim again. Gustavus Adolphus, who began presently to imagine the duke\nhad made his peace with the emperor, and so would either be his enemy\nor pretend a neutrality, generously delivered him his town of Spandau,\nbut immediately turns about, and with his whole army besieges him in\nhis capital city of Berlin. This brought the duke to know his error,\nand by the interpositions of the ladies, the Queen of Sweden being the\nduke's sister, the matter was accommodated, and the duke joined his\nforces with the king.\nBut the duke of Saxony had like to have been undone by this delay,\nfor the Imperialists, under Count de Furstenberg, were entered his\ncountry, and had possessed themselves of Halle, and Tilly was on\nhis march to join him, as he afterwards did, and ravaging the\nwhole country laid siege to Leipsic itself. The duke driven to this\nextremity rather flies to the Swede than treats with him, and on the\n2nd of September the duke's army joined with the King of Sweden.\nI had not come to Leipsic but to see the Duke of Saxony's army, and\nthat being marched, as I have said, for Torgau, I had no business\nthere, but if I had, the approach of Tilly and the Imperial army was\nenough to hasten me away, for I had no occasion to be besieged there;\nso on the 27th of August I left the town, as several of the principal\ninhabitants had done before, and more would have done had not the\ngovernor published a proclamation against it, and besides they knew\nnot whither to fly, for all places were alike exposed. The poor people\nwere under dreadful apprehensions of a siege, and of the merciless\nusage of the Imperial soldiers, the example of Magdeburg being fresh\nbefore them, the duke and his army gone from them, and the town,\nthough well furnished, but indifferently fortified.\nIn this condition I left them, buying up stores of provisions,\nworking hard to scour their moats, set up palisadoes, repair their\nfortifications, and preparing all things for a siege; and following\nthe Saxon army to Torgau, I continued in the camp till a few days\nbefore they joined the King of Sweden.\nI had much ado to persuade my companion from entering into the\nservice of the Duke of Saxony, one of whose colonels, with whom we had\ncontracted a particular acquaintance, offering him a commission to be\ncornet in one of the old regiments of horse; but the difference I had\nobserved between this new army and Tilly's old troops had made such\nan impression on me, that I confess I had yet no manner of inclination\nfor the service, and therefore persuaded him to wait a while till we\nhad seen a little further into affairs, and particularly till we had\nseen the Swedish army which we had heard so much of.\nThe difficulties which the Elector-Duke of Saxony made of joining with\nthe king were made up by a treaty concluded with the king on the 2nd\nof September at Coswig, a small town on the Elbe, whither the king's\narmy was arrived the night before; for General Tilly being now entered\ninto the duke's country, had plundered and ruined all the lower part\nof it, and was now actually besieging the capital city of Leipsic.\nThese necessities made almost any conditions easy to him; the greatest\ndifficulty was that the King of Sweden demanded the absolute command\nof the army, which the duke submitted to with less goodwill than he\nhad reason to do, the king's experience and conduct considered.\nI had not patience to attend the conclusions of their particular\ntreaties, but as soon as ever the passage was clear I quitted the\nSaxon camp and went to see the Swedish army. I fell in with the\nout-guards of the Swedes at a little town called Beltsig, on the river\nWersa, just as they were relieving the guards and going to march, and\nhaving a pass from the English ambassador was very well received by\nthe officer who changed the guards, and with him I went back into\nthe army. By nine in the morning the army was in full march, the king\nhimself at the head of them on a grey pad, and riding from one brigade\nto another, ordered the march of every line himself.\nWhen I saw the Swedish troops, their exact discipline, their order,\nthe modesty and familiarity of their officers, and the regular living\nof the soldiers, their camp seemed a well-ordered city; the meanest\ncountry woman with her market ware was as safe from violence as in the\nstreets of Vienna. There were no women in the camp but such as being\nknown to the provosts to be the wives of the soldiers, who were\nnecessary for washing linen, taking care of the soldiers' clothes, and\ndressing their victuals.\nThe soldiers were well clad, not gay, furnished with excellent arms,\nand exceedingly careful of them; and though they did not seem so\nterrible as I thought Tilly's men did when I first saw them, yet the\nfigure they made, together with what we had heard of them, made them\nseem to me invincible: the discipline and order of their marchings,\ncamping, and exercise was excellent and singular, and, which was to\nbe seen in no armies but the king's, his own skill, judgment, and\nvigilance having added much to the general conduct of armies then in\nuse.\nAs I met the Swedes on their march I had no opportunity to acquaint\nmyself with anybody till after the conjunction of the Saxon army,\nand then it being but four days to the great battle of Leipsic, our\nacquaintance was but small, saving what fell out accidentally by\nconversation.\nI met with several gentlemen in the king's army who spoke English very\nwell; besides that there were three regiments of Scots in the army,\nthe colonels whereof I found were extraordinarily esteemed by the\nking, as the Lord Reay, Colonel Lumsdell, and Sir John Hepburn. The\nlatter of these, after I had by an accident become acquainted with, I\nfound had been for many years acquainted with my father, and on that\naccount I received a great deal of civility from him, which afterwards\ngrew into a kind of intimate friendship. He was a complete soldier\nindeed, and for that reason so well beloved by that gallant king, that\nhe hardly knew how to go about any great action without him.\nIt was impossible for me now to restrain my young comrade from\nentering into the Swedish service, and indeed everything was so\ninviting that I could not blame him. A captain in Sir John Hepburn's\nregiment had picked acquaintance with him, and he having as much\ngallantry in his face as real courage in his heart, the captain had\npersuaded him to take service, and promised to use his interest to get\nhim a company in the Scotch brigade. I had made him promise me not\nto part from me in my travels without my consent, which was the only\nobstacle to his desires of entering into the Swedish pay; and being\none evening in the captain's tent with him and discoursing very freely\ntogether, the captain asked him very short but friendly, and looking\nearnestly at me, \"Is this the gentleman, Mr Fielding, that has done\nso much prejudice to the King of Sweden's service?\" I was doubly\nsurprised at the expression, and at the colonel, Sir John Hepburn,\ncoming at that very moment into the tent. The colonel hearing\nsomething of the question, but knowing nothing of the reason of it,\nany more than as I seemed a little to concern myself at it, yet after\nthe ceremony due to his character was over, would needs know what I\nhad done to hinder his Majesty's service. \"So much truly,\" says the\ncaptain, \"that if his Majesty knew it he would think himself very\nlittle beholden to him.\" \"I am sorry, sir,\" said I, \"that I should\noffend in anything, who am but a stranger; but if you would please to\ninform me, I would endeavour to alter anything in my behaviour that is\nprejudicial to any one, much less to his Majesty's service.\" \"I shall\ntake you at your word, sir,\" says the captain; \"the King of Sweden,\nsir, has a particular request to you.\" \"I should be glad to know two\nthings, sir,\" said I; \"first, how that can be possible, since I am\nnot yet known to any man in the army, much less to his Majesty? and\nsecondly, what the request can be?\" \"Why, sir, his Majesty desires you\nwould not hinder this gentleman from entering into his service, who\nit seems desires nothing more, if he may have your consent to it.\" \"I\nhave too much honour for his Majesty,\" returned I, \"to deny anything\nwhich he pleases to command me; but methinks 'tis some hardship you\nshould make that the king's order, which 'tis very probable he knows\nnothing of.\" Sir John Hepburn took the case up something gravely, and\ndrinking a glass of Leipsic beer to the captain, said, \"Come, captain,\ndon't press these gentlemen; the king desires no man's service but\nwhat is purely volunteer.\" So we entered into other discourse, and the\ncolonel perceiving by my talk that I had seen Tilly's army, was mighty\ncurious in his questions, and seeming very well satisfied with the\naccount I gave him.\nThe next day the army having passed the Elbe at Wittenberg, and joined\nthe Saxon army near Torgau, his Majesty caused both armies to draw\nup in battalia, giving every brigade the same post in the lines as he\npurposed to fight in. I must do the memory of that glorious general\nthis honour, that I never saw an army drawn up with so much variety,\norder, and exact regularity since, though I have seen many armies\ndrawn up by some of the greatest captains of the age. The order by\nwhich his men were directed to flank and relieve one another, the\nmethods of receiving one body of men if disordered into another, and\nrallying one squadron without disordering another was so admirable;\nthe horse everywhere flanked lined and defended by the foot, and the\nfoot by the horse, and both by the cannon, was such that if those\norders were but as punctually obeyed, 'twere impossible to put an army\nso modelled into any confusion.\nThe view being over, and the troops returned to their camps, the\ncaptain with whom we drank the day before meeting me told me I must\ncome and sup with him in his tent, where he would ask my pardon for\nthe affront he gave me before. I told him he needed not put himself\nto the trouble, I was not affronted at all; that I would do myself the\nhonour to wait on him, provided he would give me his word not to speak\nany more of it as an affront.\nWe had not been a quarter of an hour in his tent but Sir John Hepburn\ncame in again, and addressing to me, told me he was glad to find me\nthere; that he came to the captain's tent to inquire how to send to\nme; and that I must do him the honour to go with him to wait on the\nking, who had a mind to hear the account I could give him of the\nImperial army from my own mouth. I must confess I was at some loss in\nmy mind how to make my address to his Majesty, but I had heard so much\nof the conversable temper of the king, and his particular sweetness of\nhumour with the meanest soldier, that I made no more difficulty, but\nhaving paid my respects to Colonel Hepburn, thanked him for the honour\nhe had done me, and offered to rise and wait upon him. \"Nay,\" says\nthe Colonel, \"we will eat first, for I find Gourdon,\" which was the\ncaptain's name, \"has got something for supper, and the king's order is\nat seven o'clock.\" So we went to supper, and Sir John, becoming very\nfriendly, must know my name; which, when I had told him, and of what\nplace and family, he rose from his seat, and embracing me, told me he\nknew my father very well, and had been intimately acquainted with\nhim, and told me several passages wherein my father had particularly\nobliged him. After this we went to supper, and the king's health being\ndrank round, the colonel moved the sooner because he had a mind to\ntalk with me.\nWhen we were going to the king he inquired of me where I had been, and\nwhat occasion brought me to the army. I told him the short history of\nmy travels, and that I came hither from Vienna on purpose to see the\nKing of Sweden and his army. He asked me if there was any service he\ncould do me, by which he meant, whether I desired an employment.\nI pretended not to take him so, but told him the protection his\nacquaintance would afford me was more than I could have asked, since I\nmight thereby have opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, which was the\nchief end of my coming abroad. He perceiving by this that I had no\nmind to be a soldier, told me very kindly I should command him in\nanything; that his tent and equipage, horses and servants should\nalways have orders to be at my service; but that as a piece of\nfriendship, he would advise me to retire to some place distant from\nthe army, for that the army would march to-morrow, and the king was\nresolved to fight General Tilly, and he would not have me hazard\nmyself; that if I thought fit to take his advice, he would have me\ntake that interval to see the court at Berlin, whither he would send\none of his servants to wait on me.\nHis discourse was too kind not to extort the tenderest acknowledgment\nfrom me that I was capable of. I told him his care of me was so\nobliging, that I knew not what return to make him, but if he pleased\nto leave me to my choice I desired no greater favour than to trail a\npike under his command in the ensuing battle. \"I can never answer it\nto your father,\" says he, \"to suffer you to expose yourself so far.\"\nI told him my father would certainly acknowledge his friendship in the\nproposal made me; but I believed he knew him better than to think he\nwould be well pleased with me if I should accept of it; that I was\nsure my father would have rode post five hundred miles to have been\nat such a battle under such a general, and it should never be told\nhim that his son had rode fifty miles to be out of it. He seemed to\nbe something concerned at the resolution I had taken, and replied very\nquickly upon me, that he approved very well of my courage; \"but,\" says\nhe, \"no man gets any credit by running upon needless adventures, nor\nloses any by shunning hazards which he has no order for. 'Tis enough,\"\nsays he, \"for a gentleman to behave well when he is commanded upon any\nservice; I have had fighting enough,\" says he, \"upon these points\nof honour, and I never got anything but reproof for it from the king\nhimself.\"\n\"Well, sir,\" said I, \"however if a man expects to rise by his valour,\nhe must show it somewhere; and if I were to have any command in an\narmy, I would first try whether I could deserve it. I have never yet\nseen any service, and must have my induction some time or other. I\nshall never have a better schoolmaster than yourself, nor a better\nschool than such an army.\" \"Well,\" says Sir John, \"but you may have\nthe same school and the same teaching after this battle is over; for\nI must tell you beforehand, this will be a bloody touch. Tilly has\na great army of old lads that are used to boxing, fellows with\niron faces, and 'tis a little too much to engage so hotly the first\nentrance into the wars. You may see our discipline this winter, and\nmake your campaign with us next summer, when you need not fear but\nwe shall have fighting enough, and you will be better acquainted with\nthings. We do never put our common soldiers upon pitched battles the\nfirst campaign, but place our new men in garrisons and try them in\nparties first.\" \"Sir,\" said I, with a little more freedom, \"I believe\nI shall not make a trade of the war, and therefore need not serve an\napprenticeship to it; 'tis a hard battle where none escapes. If I\ncome off, I hope I shall not disgrace you, and if not, 'twill be some\nsatisfaction to my father to hear his son died fighting under the\ncommand of Sir John Hepburn, in the army of the King of Sweden, and I\ndesire no better epitaph upon my tomb.\"\n\"Well,\" says Sir John, and by this time we were just come to the\nking's quarters, and the guards calling to us interrupted his reply;\nso we went into the courtyard where the king was lodged, which was in\nan indifferent house of one of the burghers of Dieben, and Sir John\nstepping up, met the king coming down some steps into a large room\nwhich looked over the town wall into a field where part of the\nartillery was drawn up. Sir John Hepburn sent his man presently to me\nto come up, which I did; and Sir John without any ceremony carries me\ndirectly up to the king, who was leaning on his elbow in the window.\nThe king turning about, \"This is the English gentleman,\" says Sir\nJohn, \"who I told your Majesty had been in the Imperial army.\" \"How\nthen did he get hither,\" says the king, \"without being taken by the\nscouts?\" At which question, Sir John saying nothing, \"By a pass,\nand please your Majesty, from the English ambassador's secretary at\nVienna,\" said I, making a profound reverence. \"Have you then been at\nVienna?\" says the king. \"Yes, and please your Majesty,\" said I; upon\nwhich the king, folding up a letter he had in his hand, seemed much\nmore earnest to talk about Vienna than about Tilly. \"And, pray, what\nnews had you at Vienna?\" \"Nothing, sir,\" said I, \"but daily accounts\none in the neck of another of their own misfortunes, and your\nMajesty's conquests, which makes a very melancholy court there.\" \"But,\npray,\" said the king, \"what is the common opinion there about these\naffairs?\" \"The common people are terrified to the last degree,\" said\nI, \"and when your Majesty took Frankfort-upon-Oder, if your army had\nmarched but twenty miles into Silesia, half the people would have run\nout of Vienna, and I left them fortifying the city.\" \"They need not,\"\nreplied the king, smiling; \"I have no design to trouble them, it is\nthe Protestant countries I must be for.\"\nUpon this the Duke of Saxony entered the room, and finding the king\nengaged, offered to retire; but the king, beckoning with his hand,\ncalled to him in French; \"Cousin,\" says the king, \"this gentleman has\nbeen travelling and comes from Vienna,\" and so made me repeat what\nI had said before; at which the king went on with me, and Sir John\nHepburn informing his Majesty that I spoke High Dutch, he changed\nhis language, and asked me in Dutch where it was that I saw General\nTilly's army. I told his Majesty at the siege of Magdeburg. \"At\nMagdeburg!\" said the king, shaking his head; \"Tilly must answer to me\nsome day for that city, and if not to me, to a greater King than I.\nCan you guess what army he had with him?\" said the king. \"He had two\narmies with him,\" said I, \"but one I suppose will do your Majesty\nno harm.\" \"Two armies!\" said the king. \"Yes, sir, he has one army\nof about 26,000 men,\" said I, \"and another of about 15,000 women and\ntheir attendants,\" at which the king laughed heartily. \"Ay, ay,\" says\nthe king, \"those 15,000 do us as much harm as the 26,000, for they\neat up the country, and devour the poor Protestants more than the men.\nWell,\" says the king, \"do they talk of fighting us?\" \"They talk big\nenough, sir,\" said I, \"but your Majesty has not been so often fought\nwith as beaten in their discourse.\" \"I know not for the men,\" says the\nking, \"but the old man is as likely to do it as talk of it, and I hope\nto try them in a day or two.\"\nThe king inquired after that several matters of me about the Low\nCountries, the Prince of Orange, and of the court and affairs in\nEngland; and Sir John Hepburn informing his Majesty that I was the son\nof an English gentleman of his acquaintance, the king had the goodness\nto ask him what care he had taken of me against the day of battle.\nUpon which Sir John repeated to him the discourse we had together by\nthe way; the king seeming particularly pleased with it, began to take\nme to task himself. \"You English gentlemen,\" says he, \"are too\nforward in the wars, which makes you leave them too soon again.\" \"Your\nMajesty,\" replied I, \"makes war in so pleasant a manner as makes\nall the world fond of fighting under your conduct.\" \"Not so pleasant\nneither,\" says the king, \"here's a man can tell you that sometimes it\nis not very pleasant.\" \"I know not much of the warrior, sir,\" said\nI, \"nor of the world, but if always to conquer be the pleasure of the\nwar, your Majesty's soldiers have all that can be desired.\" \"Well,\"\nsays the king, \"but however, considering all things, I think you would\ndo well to take the advice Sir John Hepburn has given you.\" \"Your\nMajesty may command me to anything, but where your Majesty and so many\ngallant gentlemen hazard their lives, mine is not worth mentioning;\nand I should not dare to tell my father at my return into England\nthat I was in your Majesty's army, and made so mean a figure that\nyour Majesty would not permit me to fight under that royal standard.\"\n\"Nay,\" replied the king, \"I lay no commands upon you, but you are\nyoung.\" \"I can never die, sir,\" said I, \"with more honour than in your\nMajesty's service.\" I spake this with so much freedom, and his Majesty\nwas so pleased with it, that he asked me how I would choose to serve,\non horseback or on foot. I told his Majesty I should be glad to\nreceive any of his Majesty's commands, but if I had not that honour I\nhad purposed to trail a pike under Sir John Hepburn, who had done me\nso much honour as to introduce me into his Majesty's presence. \"Do so,\nthen,\" replied the king, and turning to Sir John Hepburn, said, \"and\npray, do you take care of him.\" At which, overcome with the goodness\nof his discourse, I could not answer a word, but made him a profound\nreverence and retired.\nThe next day but one, being the 7th of September, before day the army\nmarched from Dieben to a large field about a mile from Leipsic, where\nwe found Tilly's army in full battalia in admirable order, which made\na show both glorious and terrible. Tilly, like a fair gamester, had\ntaken up but one side of the plain, and left the other free, and all\nthe avenues open for the king's army; nor did he stir to the charge\ntill the king's army was completely drawn up and advanced toward him.\nHe had in his army 44,000 old soldiers, every way answerable to what\nI have said of them before; and I shall only add, a better army, I\nbelieve, never was so soundly beaten.\nThe king was not much inferior in force, being joined with the Saxons,\nwho were reckoned 22,000 men, and who drew up on the left, making a\nmain battle and two wings, as the king did on the right.\nThe king placed himself at the right wing of his own horse, Gustavus\nHorn had the main battle of the Swedes, the Duke of Saxony had the\nmain battle of his own troops, and General Arnheim the right wing of\nhis horse. The second line of the Swedes consisted of the two Scotch\nbrigades, and three Swedish, with the Finland horse in the wings.\nIn the beginning of the fight, Tilly's right wing charged with such\nirresistible fury upon the left of the king's army where the Saxons\nwere posted, that nothing could withstand them. The Saxons fled amain,\nand some of them carried the news over the country that all was lost,\nand the king's army overthrown; and indeed it passed for an oversight\nwith some that the king did not place some of his old troops among the\nSaxons, who were new-raised men. The Saxons lost here near 2000 men,\nand hardly ever showed their faces again all the battle, except some\nfew of their horse.\nI was posted with my comrade, the captain, at the head of three\nScottish regiments of foot, commanded by Sir John Hepburn, with\nexpress directions from the colonel to keep by him. Our post was in\nthe second line, as a reserve to the King of Sweden's main battle,\nand, which was strange, the main battle, which consisted of four great\nbrigades of foot, were never charged during the whole fight; and yet\nwe, who had the reserve, were obliged to endure the whole weight\nof the Imperial army. The occasion was, the right wing of the\nImperialists having defeated the Saxons, and being eager in the chase,\nTilly, who was an old soldier, and ready to prevent all mistakes,\nforbids any pursuit. \"Let them go,\" says he, \"but let us beat the\nSwedes, or we do nothing.\" Upon this the victorious troops fell in\nupon the flank of the king's army, which, the Saxons being fled, lay\nopen to them. Gustavus Horn commanded the left wing of the Swedes, and\nhaving first defeated some regiments which charged him, falls in upon\nthe rear of the Imperial right wing, and separates them from the van,\nwho were advanced a great way forward in pursuit of the Saxons, and\nhaving routed the said rear or reserve, falls on upon Tilly's main\nbattle, and defeated part of them; the other part was gone in chase of\nthe Saxons, and now also returned, fell in upon the rear of the left\nwing of the Swedes, charging them in the flank, for they drew up upon\nthe very ground which the Saxons had quitted. This changed the whole\nfront, and made the Swedes face about to the left, and made a great\nfront on their flank to make this good. Our brigades, who were placed\nas a reserve for the main battle, were, by special order from the\nking, wheeled about to the left, and placed for the right of this new\nfront to charge the Imperialists; they were about 12,000 of their best\nfoot, besides horse, and flushed with the execution of the Saxons,\nfell on like furies. The king by this time had almost defeated the\nImperialists' left wing; their horse, with more haste than good speed,\nhad charged faster than their foot could follow, and having broke into\nthe king's first line, he let them go, where, while the second line\nbears the shock, and bravely resisted them, the king follows them on\nthe crupper with thirteen troops of horse, and some musketeers, by\nwhich being hemmed in, they were all cut down in a moment as it were,\nand the army never disordered with them. This fatal blow to the left\nwing gave the king more leisure to defeat the foot which followed, and\nto send some assistance to Gustavus Horn in his left wing, who had his\nhands full with the main battle of the Imperialists.\nBut those troops who, as I said, had routed the Saxons, being called\noff from the pursuit, had charged our flank, and were now grown very\nstrong, renewed the battle in a terrible manner. Here it was I saw our\nmen go to wreck. Colonel Hall, a brave soldier, commanded the rear of\nthe Swede's left wing; he fought like a lion, but was slain, and most\nof his regiment cut off, though not unrevenged, for they entirely\nruined Furstenberg's regiment of foot. Colonel Cullembach, with his\nregiment of horse, was extremely overlaid also, and the colonel and\nmany brave officers killed, and in short all that wing was shattered,\nand in an ill condition.\nIn this juncture came the king, and having seen what havoc the enemy\nmade of Cullembach's troops, he comes riding along the front of our\nthree brigades, and himself led us on to the charge; the colonel of\nhis guards, the Baron Dyvel, was shot dead just as the king had given\nhim some orders. When the Scots advanced, seconded by some regiments\nof horse which the king also sent to the charge, the bloodiest fight\nbegan that ever men beheld, for the Scottish brigades, giving fire\nthree ranks at a time over one another's heads, poured in their shot\nso thick, that the enemy were cut down like grass before a scythe;\nand following into the thickest of their foot with the clubs of their\nmuskets made a most dreadful slaughter, and yet was there no flying.\nTilly's men might be killed and knocked down, but no man turned his\nback, nor would give an inch of ground, but as they were wheeled, or\nmarched, or retreated by their officers.\nThere was a regiment of cuirassiers which stood whole to the last,\nand fought like lions; they went ranging over the field when all\ntheir army was broken, and nobody cared for charging them; they were\ncommanded by Baron Kronenburg, and at last went off from the battle\nwhole. These were armed in black armour from head to foot, and they\ncarried off their general. About six o'clock the field was cleared of\nthe enemy, except at one place on the king's side, where some of them\nrallied, and though they knew all was lost would take no quarter, but\nfought it out to the last man, being found dead the next day in rank\nand file as they were drawn up.\nI had the good fortune to receive no hurt in this battle, excepting\na small scratch on the side of my neck by the push of a pike; but my\nfriend received a very dangerous wound when the battle was as good as\nover. He had engaged with a German colonel, whose name we could never\nlearn, and having killed his man, and pressed very close upon him,\nso that he had shot his horse, the horse in the fall kept the colonel\ndown, lying on one of his legs; upon which he demanded quarter, which\nCaptain Fielding granting, helped him to quit his horse, and having\ndisarmed him, was bringing him into the line, when the regiment of\ncuirassiers, which I mentioned, commanded by Baron Kronenburg, came\nroving over the field, and with a flying charge saluted our front with\na salvo of carabine shot, which wounded us a great many men, and among\nthe rest the captain received a shot in his thigh, which laid him on\nthe ground, and being separated from the line, his prisoner got away\nwith them.\nThis was the first service I was in, and indeed I never saw any fight\nsince maintained with such gallantry, such desperate valour, together\nwith such dexterity of management, both sides being composed of\nsoldiers fully tried, bred to the wars, expert in everything, exact in\ntheir order, and incapable of fear, which made the battle be much more\nbloody than usual. Sir John Hepburn, at my request, took particular\ncare of my comrade, and sent his own surgeon to look after him;\nand afterwards, when the city of Leipsic was retaken, provided him\nlodgings there, and came very often to see him; and indeed I was in\ngreat care for him too, the surgeons being very doubtful of him a\ngreat while; for having lain in the field all night among the dead,\nhis wound, for want of dressing, and with the extremity of cold, was\nin a very ill condition, and the pain of it had thrown him into a\nfever. 'Twas quite dusk before the fight ended, especially where the\nlast rallied troops fought so long, and therefore we durst not break\nour order to seek out our friends, so that 'twas near seven o'clock\nthe next morning before we found the captain, who, though very weak by\nthe loss of blood, had raised himself up, and placed his back against\nthe buttock of a dead horse. I was the first that knew him, and\nrunning to him, embraced him with a great deal of joy; he was not able\nto speak, but made signs to let me see he knew me, so we brought him\ninto the camp, and Sir John Hepburn, as I noted before, sent his own\nsurgeons to look after him.\nThe darkness of the night prevented any pursuit, and was the only\nrefuge the enemy had left: for had there been three hours more\ndaylight ten thousand more lives had been lost, for the Swedes (and\nSaxons especially) enraged by the obstinacy of the enemy, were so\nthoroughly heated that they would have given quarter but to few. The\nretreat was not sounded till seven o'clock, when the king drew up the\nwhole army upon the field of battle, and gave strict command that none\nshould stir from their order; so the army lay under their arms all\nnight, which was another reason why the wounded soldiers suffered very\nmuch by the cold; for the king, who had a bold enemy to deal with, was\nnot ignorant what a small body of desperate men rallied together might\nhave done in the darkness of the night, and therefore he lay in his\ncoach all night at the head of the line, though it froze very hard.\nAs soon as the day began to peep the trumpets sounded to horse, and\nall the dragoons and light-horse in the army were commanded to the\npursuit. The cuirassiers and some commanded musketeers advanced some\nmiles, if need were, to make good their retreat, and all the foot\nstood to their arms for a reverse; but in half-an-hour word was\nbrought to the king that the enemy were quite dispersed, upon which\ndetachments were made out of every regiment to search among the dead\nfor any of our friends that were wounded; and the king himself gave a\nstrict order, that if any were found wounded and alive among the enemy\nnone should kill them, but take care to bring them into the camp--a\npiece of humanity which saved the lives of near a thousand of the\nenemies.\nThis piece of service being over, the enemy's camp was seized upon,\nand the soldiers were permitted to plunder it; all the cannon, arms,\nand ammunition was secured for the king's use, the rest was given up\nto the soldiers, who found so much plunder that they had no reason to\nquarrel for shares.\nFor my share, I was so busy with my wounded captain that I got nothing\nbut a sword, which I found just by him when I first saw him; but my\nman brought me a very good horse with a furniture on him, and one\npistol of extraordinary workmanship.\nI bade him get upon his back and make the best of the day for himself,\nwhich he did, and I saw him no more till three days after, when he\nfound me out at Leipsic, so richly dressed that I hardly knew him; and\nafter making his excuse for his long absence, gave me a very pleasant\naccount where he had been. He told me that, according to my order,\nbeing mounted on the horse he had brought me, he first rid into the\nfield among the dead to get some clothes suitable to the equipage of\nhis horse, and having seized on a laced coat, a helmet, a sword, and\nan extraordinary good cane, was resolved to see what was become of the\nenemy; and following the track of the dragoons, which he could\neasily do by the bodies on the road, he fell in with a small party\nof twenty-five dragoons, under no command but a corporal, making to\na village where some of the enemies' horse had been quartered. The\ndragoons, taking him for an officer by his horse, desired him to\ncommand them, told him the enemy was very rich, and they doubted not\na good booty. He was a bold, brisk fellow, and told them, with all\nhis heart, but said he had but one pistol, the other being broken with\nfiring; so they lent him a pair of pistols, and a small piece they had\ntaken, and he led them on. There had been a regiment of horse and\nsome troops of Crabats in the village, but they were fled on the first\nnotice of the pursuit, excepting three troops, and these, on sight\nof this small party, supposing them to be only the first of a greater\nnumber, fled in the greatest confusion imaginable. They took the\nvillage, and about fifty horses, with all the plunder of the enemy,\nand with the heat of the service he had spoiled my horse, he said, for\nwhich he had brought me two more; for he, passing for the commander of\nthe party, had all the advantage the custom of war gives an officer in\nlike cases.\nI was very well pleased with the relation the fellow gave me, and,\nlaughing at him, \"Well, captain,\" said I, \"and what plunder have ye\ngot?\" \"Enough to make me a captain, sir,\" says he, \"if you please, and\na troop ready raised too; for the party of dragoons are posted in the\nvillage by my command, till they have farther orders.\" In short,\nhe pulled out sixty or seventy pieces of gold, five or six watches,\nthirteen or fourteen rings, whereof two were diamond rings, one of\nwhich was worth fifty dollars, silver as much as his pockets would\nhold; besides that he had brought three horses, two of which were\nladen with baggage, and a boor he had hired to stay with them at\nLeipsic till he had found me out. \"But I am afraid, captain,\" says I,\n\"you have plundered the village instead of plundering the enemy.\" \"No\nindeed, not we,\" says he, \"but the Crabats had done it for us and we\nlight of them just as they were carrying it off.\" \"Well,\" said I, \"but\nwhat will you do with your men, for when you come to give them orders\nthey will know you well enough?\" \"No, no,\" says he, \"I took care of\nthat, for just now I gave a soldier five dollars to carry them news\nthat the army was marched to Merseburg, and that they should follow\nthither to the regiment.\"\nHaving secured his money in my lodgings, he asked me if I pleased to\nsee his horses, and to have one for myself? I told him I would go and\nsee them in the afternoon; but the fellow being impatient goes and\nfetches them. There were three horses, one whereof was a very good\none, and by the furniture was an officer's horse of the Crabats, and\nthat my man would have me accept, for the other he had spoiled, as\nhe said. I was but indifferently horsed before, so I accepted of the\nhorse, and went down with him to see the rest of his plunder there.\nHe had got three or four pair of pistols, two or three bundles of\nofficers' linen, and lace, a field-bed, and a tent, and several other\nthings of value; but at last, coming to a small fardel, \"And this,\"\nsays he, \"I took whole from a Crabat running away with it under his\narm,\" so he brought it up into my chamber. He had not looked into it,\nhe said, but he understood 'twas some plunder the soldiers had made,\nand finding it heavy took it by consent. We opened it and found it was\na bundle of some linen, thirteen or fourteen pieces of plate, and in a\nsmall cup, three rings, a fine necklace of pearl and the value of 100\nrix-dollars in money.\nThe fellow was amazed at his own good fortune, and hardly knew what\nto do with himself; I bid him go take care of his other things, and\nof his horses, and come again. So he went and discharged the boor that\nwaited and packed up all his plunder, and came up to me in his old\nclothes again. \"How now, captain,\" says I, \"what, have you altered\nyour equipage already?\" \"I am no more ashamed, sir, of your livery,\"\nanswered he, \"than of your service, and nevertheless your servant for\nwhat I have got by it.\" \"Well,\" says I to him, \"but what will you do\nnow with all your money?\" \"I wish my poor father had some of it,\" says\nhe, \"and for the rest I got it for you, sir, and desire you would take\nit.\" He spoke it with so much honesty and freedom that I could not\nbut take it very kindly; but, however, I told him I would not take a\nfarthing from him as his master, but I would have him play the good\nhusband with it, now he had such good fortune to get it. He told me\nhe would take my directions in everything. \"Why, then,\" said I, \"I'll\ntell you what I would advise you to do, turn it all into ready money,\nand convey it by return home into England, and follow yourself the\nfirst opportunity, and with good management you may put yourself in a\ngood posture of living with it.\" The fellow, with a sort of dejection\nin his looks, asked me if he had disobliged me in anything? \"Why?\"\nsays I. \"That I was willing to turn him out of his service.\" \"No,\nGeorge\" (that was his name), says I, \"but you may live on this money\nwithout being a servant.\" \"I'd throw it all into the Elbe,\" says he,\n\"over Torgau bridge, rather than leave your service; and besides,\"\nsays he, \"can't I save my money without going from you? I got it in\nyour service, and I'll never spend it out of your service, unless you\nput me away. I hope my money won't make me the worse servant; if I\nthought it would, I'd soon have little enough.\" \"Nay, George,\" says\nI, \"I shall not oblige you to it, for I am not willing to lose you\nneither: come, then,\" says I, \"let us put it all together, and see\nwhat it will come to.\" So he laid it all together on the table, and by\nour computation he had gotten as much plunder as was worth about 1400\nrix-dollars, besides three horses with their furniture, a tent, a bed,\nand some wearing linen. Then he takes the necklace of pearl, a very\ngood watch, a diamond ring, and 100 pieces of gold, and lays them by\nthemselves, and having, according to our best calculation, valued the\nthings, he put up all the rest, and as I was going to ask him what\nthey were left out for, he takes them up in his hand, and coming round\nthe table, told me, that if I did not think him unworthy of my service\nand favour, he begged I would give him leave to make that present to\nme; that it was my first thought his going out, that he had got it\nall in my service, and he should think I had no kindness for him if I\nshould refuse it.\nI was resolved in my mind not to take it from him, and yet I could\nfind no means to resist his importunity. At last I told him, I would\naccept of part of his present, and that I esteemed his respect in\nthat as much as the whole, and that I would not have him importune me\nfarther; so I took the ring and watch, with the horse and furniture as\nbefore, and made him turn all the rest into money at Leipsic, and\nnot suffering him to wear his livery, made him put himself into a\ntolerable equipage, and taking a young Leipsicer into my service, he\nattended me as a gentleman from that time forward.\nThe king's army never entered Leipsic, but proceeded to Merseberg, and\nfrom thence to Halle, and so marched on into Franconia, while the Duke\nof Saxony employed his forces in recovering Leipsic and driving the\nImperialists out of his country. I continued at Leipsic twelve days,\nbeing not willing to leave my comrade till he was recovered; but Sir\nJohn Hepburn so often importuned me to come into the army, and sent\nme word that the king had very often inquired for me, that at last I\nconsented to go without him; so having made our appointment where to\nmeet, and how to correspond by letters, I went to wait on Sir John\nHepburn, who then lay with the king's army at the city of Erfurt in\nSaxony. As I was riding between Leipsic and Halle, I observed my\nhorse went very awkwardly and uneasy, and sweat very much, though the\nweather was cold, and we had rid but very softly; I fancied therefore\nthat the saddle might hurt the horse, and calls my new captain up.\n\"George,\" says I, \"I believe this saddle hurts the horse.\" So we\nalighted, and looking under the saddle found the back of the horse\nextremely galled; so I bid him take off the saddle, which he did, and\ngiving the horse to my young Leipsicer to lead, we sat down to see if\nwe could mend it, for there was no town near us. Says George, pointing\nwith his finger, \"If you please to cut open the pannel there, I'll get\nsomething to stuff into it which will bear it from the horse's back.\"\nSo while he looked for something to thrust in, I cut a hole in\nthe pannel of the saddle, and, following it with my finger, I felt\nsomething hard, which seemed to move up and down. Again, as I thrust\nit with my finger, \"Here's something that should not be here,\" says I,\nnot yet imagining what afterwards fell out, and calling, \"Run back,\"\nbade him put up his finger. \"Whatever 'tis,\" says he, \"'tis this hurts\nthe horse, for it bears just on his back when the saddle is set on.\"\nSo we strove to take hold on it, but could not reach it; at last we\ntook the upper part of the saddle quite from the pannel, and there\nlay a small silk purse wrapped in a piece of leather, and full of gold\nducats. \"Thou art born to be rich, George,\" says I to him, \"here's\nmore money.\" We opened the purse and found in it four hundred and\nthirty-eight small pieces of gold.\nThere I had a new skirmish with him whose the money should be. I\ntold him 'twas his, he told me no; I had accepted of the horse and\nfurniture, and all that was about him was mine, and solemnly vowed he\nwould not have a penny of it. I saw no remedy, but put up the money\nfor the present, mended our saddle, and went on. We lay that night at\nHalle, and having had such a booty in the saddle, I made him search\nthe saddles of the other two horses, in one of which we found three\nFrench crowns, but nothing in the other.\nWe arrived at Erfurt the 28th of September, but the army was removed,\nand entered into Franconia, and at the siege of Koningshoven we came\nup with them. The first thing I did was to pay my civilities to Sir\nJohn Hepburn, who received me very kindly, but told me withal that\nI had not done well to be so long from him, and the king had\nparticularly inquired for me, had commanded him to bring me to him at\nmy return. I told him the reason of my stay at Leipsic, and how I had\nleft that place and my comrade, before he was cured of his wounds, to\nwait on him according to his letters. He told me the king had spoken\nsome things very obliging about me, and he believed would offer me\nsome command in the army, if I thought well to accept of it. I told\nhim I had promised my father not to take service in an army without\nhis leave, and yet if his Majesty should offer it, I neither knew\nhow to resist it, nor had I an inclination to anything more than the\nservice, and such a leader, though I had much rather have served as a\nvolunteer at my own charge (which, as he knew, was the custom of our\nEnglish gentlemen) than in any command. He replied, \"Do as you think\nfit; but some gentlemen would give 20,000 crowns to stand so fair for\nadvancement as you do.\"\nThe town of Koningshoven capitulated that day, and Sir John was\nordered to treat with the citizens, so I had no further discourse with\nhim then; and the town being taken, the army immediately advanced down\nthe river Maine, for the king had his eye upon Frankfort and Mentz,\ntwo great cities, both which he soon became master of, chiefly by\nthe prodigious expedition of his march; for within a month after the\nbattle, he was in the lower parts of the empire, and had passed from\nthe Elbe to the Rhine, an incredible conquest, had taken all the\nstrong cities, the bishoprics of Bamberg, of Wurtzburg, and almost all\nthe circle of Franconia, with part of Schawberland--a conquest large\nenough to be seven years a-making by the common course of arms.\nBusiness going on thus, the king had not leisure to think of small\nmatters, and I being not thoroughly resolved in my mind, did not press\nSir John to introduce me. I had wrote to my father with an account\nof my reception in the army, the civilities of Sir John Hepburn, the\nparticulars of the battle, and had indeed pressed him to give me\nleave to serve the King of Sweden, to which particular I waited for\nan answer, but the following occasion determined me before an answer\ncould possibly reach me.\nThe king was before the strong castle of Marienburg, which commands\nthe city of Wurtzburg. He had taken the city, but the garrison and\nricher part of the burghers were retired into the castle, and trusting\nto the strength of the place, which was thought impregnable, they bade\nthe Swedes do their worst; 'twas well provided with all things, and a\nstrong garrison in it, so that the army indeed expected 'twould be a\nlong piece of work. The castle stood on a high rock, and on the steep\nof the rock was a bastion which defended the only passage up the hill\ninto the castle; the Scots were chose out to make this attack, and the\nking was an eye-witness of their gallantry. In the action Sir John was\nnot commanded out, but Sir James Ramsey led them on; but I observed\nthat most of the Scotch officers in the other regiments prepared to\nserve as volunteers for the honour of their countrymen, and Sir John\nHepburn led them on. I was resolved to see this piece of service,\nand therefore joined myself to the volunteers. We were armed with\npartisans, and each man two pistols at our belt. It was a piece of\nservice that seemed perfectly desperate, the advantage of the hill,\nthe precipice we were to mount, the height of the bastion, the\nresolute courage and number of the garrison, who from a complete\ncovert made a terrible fire upon us, all joined to make the action\nhopeless. But the fury of the Scots musketeers was not to be abated by\nany difficulties; they mounted the hill, scaled the works like madmen,\nrunning upon the enemies' pikes, and after two hours' desperate fight\nin the midst of fire and smoke, took it by storm, and put all the\ngarrison to the sword. The volunteers did their part, and had their\nshare of the loss too, for thirteen or fourteen were killed out of\nthirty-seven, besides the wounded, among whom I received a hurt more\ntroublesome than dangerous by a thrust of a halberd into my arm, which\nproved a very painful wound, and I was a great while before it was\nthoroughly recovered.\nThe king received us as we drew off at the foot of the hill, calling\nthe soldiers his brave Scots, and commending the officers by name.\nThe next morning the castle was also taken by storm, and the greatest\nbooty that ever was found in any one conquest in the whole war; the\nsoldiers got here so much money that they knew not what to do with it,\nand the plunder they got here and at the battle of Leipsic made them\nso unruly, that had not the king been the best master of discipline in\nthe world, they had never been kept in any reasonable bounds.\nThe king had taken notice of our small party of volunteers, and though\nI thought he had not seen me, yet he sent the next morning for Sir\nJohn Hepburn, and asked him if I were not come to the army? \"Yes,\"\nsays Sir John, \"he has been here two or three days.\" And as he was\nforming an excuse for not having brought me to wait on his Majesty,\nsays the king, interrupting him, \"I wonder you would let him thrust\nhimself into a hot piece of service as storming the Port Graft.\nPray let him know I saw him, and have a very good account of his\nbehaviour.\" Sir John returned with this account to me, and pressed\nme to pay my duty to his Majesty the next morning; and accordingly,\nthough I had but an ill night with the pain of my wound, I was with\nhim at the levee in the castle.\nI cannot but give some short account of the glory of the morning; the\ncastle had been cleared of the dead bodies of the enemies, and what\nwas not pillaged by the soldiers was placed under a guard. There was\nfirst a magazine of very good arms for about 18,000 or 20,000 foot,\nand 4000 horse, a very good train of artillery of about eighteen\npieces of battery, thirty-two brass field-pieces, and four mortars.\nThe bishop's treasure, and other public monies not plundered by the\nsoldiers, was telling out by the officers, and amounted to 400,000\nflorins in money; and the burghers of the town in solemn procession,\nbareheaded, brought the king three tons of gold as a composition to\nexempt the city from plunder. Here was also a stable of gallant horses\nwhich the king had the curiosity to go and see.\nWhen the ceremony of the burghers was over, the king came down into\nthe castle court, walked on the parade (where the great train of\nartillery was placed on their carriages) and round the walls, and gave\norder for repairing the bastion that was stormed by the Scots; and\nas at the entrance of the parade Sir John Hepburn and I made our\nreverence to the king, \"Ho, cavalier!\" said the king to me, \"I am glad\nto see you,\" and so passed forward. I made my bow very low, but his\nMajesty said no more at that time.\nWhen the view was over the king went up into the lodgings, and Sir\nJohn and I walked in an antechamber for about a quarter of an hour,\nwhen one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber came out to Sir John, and\ntold him the king asked for him; he stayed but a little with the king,\nand come out to me and told me the king had ordered him to bring me to\nhim.\nHis Majesty, with a countenance full of honour and goodness,\ninterrupted my compliment, and asked me how I did; at which answering\nonly with a bow, says the king, \"I am sorry to see you are hurt; I\nwould have laid my commands on you not to have shown yourself in so\nsharp a piece of service, if I had known you had been in the camp.\"\n\"Your Majesty does me too much honour,\" said I, \"in your care of a\nlife that has yet done nothing to deserve your favour.\" His Majesty\nwas pleased to say something very kind to me relating to my behaviour\nin the battle of Leipsic, which I have not vanity enough to write;\nat the conclusion whereof, when I replied very humbly that I was not\nsensible that any service I had done, or could do, could possibly\nmerit so much goodness, he told me he had ordered me a small testimony\nof his esteem, and withal gave me his hand to kiss. I was now\nconquered, and with a sort of surprise told his Majesty I found myself\nso much engaged by his goodness, as well as my own inclination, that\nif his Majesty would please to accept of my devoir, I was resolved to\nserve in his army, or wherever he pleased to command me. \"Serve\nme,\" says the king, \"why, so you do, but I must not have you be a\nmusketeer; a poor soldier at a dollar a week will do that.\" \"Pray,\nSir John,\" says the king, \"give him what commission he desires.\" \"No\ncommission, sir,\" says I, \"would please me better than leave to fight\nnear your Majesty's person, and to serve you at my own charge till I\nam qualified by more experience to receive your commands.\" \"Why, then,\nit shall be so,\" said the king, \"and I charge you, Hepburn,\" says he,\n\"when anything offers that is either fit for him, or he desires, that\nyou tell me of it;\" and giving me his hand again to kiss, I withdrew.\nI was followed before I had passed the castle gate by one of the\nking's pages, who brought me a warrant, directed to Sir John Hepburn,\nto go to the master of the horse for an immediate delivery of things\nordered by the king himself for my account, where being come, the\nequerry produced me a very good coach with four horses, harness, and\nequipage, and two very fine saddle-horses, out of the stable of the\nbishop's horses afore-mentioned; with these there was a list for three\nservants, and a warrant to the steward of the king's baggage to defray\nme, my horses, and servants at the king's charge till farther order.\nI was very much at a loss how to manage myself in this so strange\nfreedom of so great a prince, and consulting with Sir John Hepburn, I\nwas proposing to him whether it was not proper to go immediately back\nto pay my duty to his Majesty, and acknowledge his bounty in the best\nterms I could; but while we were resolving to do so, the guards stood\nto their arms, and we saw the king go out at the gate in his coach\nto pass into the city, so we were diverted from it for that time. I\nacknowledge the bounty of the king was very surprising, but I must say\nit was not so very strange to me when I afterwards saw the course of\nhis management. Bounty in him was his natural talent, but he never\ndistributed his favours but where he thought himself both loved and\nfaithfully served, and when he was so, even the single actions of\nhis private soldiers he would take particular notice of himself, and\npublicly own, acknowledge, and reward them, of which I am obliged to\ngive some instances.\nA private musketeer at the storming the castle of Wurtzburg, when\nall the detachment was beaten off, stood in the face of the enemy and\nfired his piece, and though he had a thousand shot made at him, stood\nunconcerned, and charged his piece again, and let fly at the enemy,\ncontinuing to do so three times, at the same time beckoning with his\nhand to his fellows to come on again, which they did, animated by his\nexample, and carried the place for the king.\nWhen the town was taken the king ordered the regiment to be drawn out,\nand calling for that soldier, thanked him before them all for\ntaking the town for him, gave him a thousand dollars in money, and a\ncommission with his own hand for a foot company, or leave to go home,\nwhich he would. The soldier took the commission on his knees, kissed\nit, and put it into his bosom, and told the king, he would never leave\nhis service as long as he lived.\nThis bounty of the king's, timed and suited by his judgment, was\nthe reason that he was very well served, entirely beloved, and most\npunctually obeyed by his soldiers, who were sure to be cherished and\nencouraged if they did well, having the king generally an eye-witness\nof their behaviour.\nMy indiscretion rather than valour had engaged me so far at the battle\nof Leipsic, that being in the van of Sir John Hepburn's brigade,\nalmost three whole companies of us were separated from our line, and\nsurrounded by the enemies' pikes. I cannot but say also that we were\ndisengaged rather by a desperate charge Sir John made with the whole\nregiment to fetch us off, than by our own valour, though we were not\nwanting to ourselves neither, but this part of the action being talked\nof very much to the advantage of the young English volunteer, and\npossibly more than I deserved, was the occasion of all the distinction\nthe king used me with ever after.\nI had by this time letters from my father, in which, though with some\nreluctance, he left me at liberty to enter into arms if I thought fit,\nalways obliging me to be directed, and, as he said, commanded by\nSir John Hepburn. At the same time he wrote to Sir John Hepburn,\ncommending his son's fortunes, as he called it, to his care, which\nletters Sir John showed the king unknown to me.\nI took care always to acquaint my father of every circumstance, and\nforgot not to mention his Majesty's extraordinary favour, which so\naffected my father, that he obtained a very honourable mention of it\nin a letter from King Charles to the King of Sweden, written by his\nown hand.\nI had waited on his Majesty, with Sir John Hepburn, to give him thanks\nfor his magnificent present, and was received with his usual goodness,\nand after that I was every day among the gentlemen of his ordinary\nattendance. And if his Majesty went out on a party, as he would\noften do, or to view the country, I always attended him among the\nvolunteers, of whom a great many always followed him; and he would\noften call me out, talk with me, send me upon messages to towns, to\nprinces, free cities, and the like, upon extraordinary occasions.\nThe first piece of service he put me upon had like to have embroiled\nme with one of his favourite colonels. The king was marching through\nthe Bergstraet, a low country on the edge of the Rhine, and, as all\nmen thought, was going to besiege Heidelberg, but on a sudden orders\na party of his guards, with five companies of Scots, to be drawn out;\nwhile they were drawing out this detachment the king calls me to him,\n\"Ho, cavalier,\" says he, that was his usual word, \"you shall command\nthis party;\" and thereupon gives me orders to march back all night,\nand in the morning, by break of day, to take post under the walls of\nthe fort of Oppenheim, and immediately to entrench myself as well as I\ncould. Grave Neels, the colonel of his guards, thought himself injured\nby this command, but the king took the matter upon himself, and Grave\nNeels told me very familiarly afterwards, \"We have such a master,\"\nsays he, \"that no man can be affronted by. I thought myself wronged,\"\nsays he, \"when you commanded my men over my head; and for my life,\"\nsays he, \"I knew not which way to be angry.\"\nI executed my commission so punctually that by break of day I was set\ndown within musket-shot of the fort, under covert of a little mount,\non which stood a windmill, and had indifferently fortified myself, and\nat the same time had posted some of my men on two other passes, but\nat farther distance from the fort, so that the fort was effectually\nblocked up on the land side. In the afternoon the enemy sallied on my\nfirst entrenchment, but being covered from their cannon, and defended\nby a ditch which I had drawn across the road, they were so well\nreceived by my musketeers that they retired with the loss of six or\nseven men.\nThe next day Sir John Hepburn was sent with two brigades of foot to\ncarry on the work, and so my commission ended. The king expressed\nhimself very well pleased with what I had done, and when he was so\nwas never sparing of telling of it, for he used to say that public\ncommendations were a great encouragement to valour.\nWhile Sir John Hepburn lay before the fort and was preparing to storm\nit, the king's design was to get over the Rhine, but the Spaniards\nwhich were in Oppenheim had sunk all the boats they could find. At\nlast the king, being informed where some lay that were sunk, caused\nthem to be weighed with all the expedition possible, and in the night\nof the 7th of December, in three boats, passed over his regiment of\nguards, about three miles above the town, and, as the king thought,\nsecure from danger; but they were no sooner landed, and not drawn into\norder, but they were charged by a body of Spanish horse, and had not\nthe darkness given them opportunity to draw up in the enclosures\nin several little parties, they had been in great danger of being\ndisordered; but by this means they lined the hedges and lanes so with\nmusketeers, that the remainder had time to draw up in battalia, and\nsaluted the horse with their muskets, so that they drew farther off.\nThe king was very impatient, hearing his men engaged, having no boats\nnor possible means to get over to help them. At last, about eleven\no'clock at night, the boats came back, and the king thrust another\nregiment into them, and though his officers dissuaded him, would go\nover himself with them on foot, and did so. This was three months that\nvery day when the battle of Leipsic was fought, and winter time too,\nthat the progress of his arms had spread from the Elbe, where it parts\nSaxony and Brandenburg, to the Lower Palatine and the Rhine.\nI went over in the boat with the king. I never saw him in so much\nconcern in my life, for he was in pain for his men; but before we got\non shore the Spaniards retired. However, the king landed, ordered his\nmen, and prepared to entrench, but he had not time, for by that time\nthe boats were put off again, the Spaniards, not knowing more troops\nwere landed, and being reinforced from Oppenheim, came on again, and\ncharged with great fury; but all things were now in order, and they\nwere readily received and beaten back again. They came on again the\nthird time, and with repeated charges attacked us; but at last\nfinding us too strong for them they gave it over. By this time another\nregiment of foot was come over, and as soon as day appeared the king\nwith the three regiments marched to the town, which surrendered at the\nfirst summons, and the next day the fort yielded to Sir John Hepburn.\nThe castle at Oppenheim held out still with a garrison of 800\nSpaniards, and the king, leaving 200 Scots of Sir James Ramsey's men\nin the town, drew out to attack the castle. Sir James Ramsey being\nleft wounded at Wurtzburg, the king gave me the command of those 200\nmen, which were a regiment, that is to say, all that were left of a\ngallant regiment of 2000 Scots, which the king brought out of Sweden\nwith him, under that brave colonel. There was about thirty officers,\nwho, having no soldiers, were yet in pay, and served as reformadoes\nwith the regiment, and were over and above the 200 men.\nThe king designed to storm the castle on the lower side by the way\nthat leads to Mentz, and Sir John Hepburn landed from the other side\nand marched up to storm on the Rhine port.\nMy reformado Scots, having observed that the town port of the castle\nwas not so well guarded as the rest, all the eyes of the garrison\nbeing bent towards the king and Sir John Hepburn, came running to me,\nand told me they believed they could enter the castle, sword in hand,\nif I would give them leave. I told them I durst not give them orders,\nmy commission being only to keep and defend the town; but they being\nvery importunate, I told them they were volunteers, and might do what\nthey pleased, that I would lend them fifty men, and draw up the rest\nto second them, or bring them off, as I saw occasion, so as I might\nnot hazard the town. This was as much as they desired; they sallied\nimmediately, and in a trice the volunteers scaled the port, cut in\npieces the guard, and burst open the gate, at which the fifty entered.\nFinding the gate won, I advanced immediately with 100 musketeers more,\nhaving locked up all the gates of the town but the castle port, and\nleaving fifty still for a reserve just at that gate; the townsmen,\ntoo, seeing the castle, as it were, taken, ran to arms, and followed\nme with above 200 men. The Spaniards were knocked down by the Scots\nbefore they knew what the matter was, and the king and Sir John\nHepburn, advancing to storm, were surprised when, instead of\nresistance, they saw the Spaniards throwing themselves over the walls\nto avoid the fury of the Scots. Few of the garrison got away, but were\neither killed or taken, and having cleared the castle, I set open the\nport on the king's side, and sent his Majesty word the castle was his\nown. The king came on, and entered on foot. I received him at the head\nof the Scots reformadoes; who all saluted him with their pikes. The\nking gave them his hat, and turning about, \"Brave Scots, brave Scots,\"\nsays he smiling, \"you were too quick for me;\" then beckoning to me,\nmade me tell him how and in what manner we had managed the storm,\nwhich he was exceeding well pleased with, but especially at the\ncaution I had used to bring them off if they had miscarried, and\nsecured the town.\nFrom hence the army marched to Mentz, which in four days' time\ncapitulated, with the fort and citadel, and the city paid his Majesty\n300,000 dollars to be exempted from the fury of the soldiers. Here the\nking himself drew the plan of those invincible fortifications which to\nthis day makes it one of the strongest cities in Germany.\nFriburg, Koningstien, Neustadt, Kaiserslautern, and almost all the\nLower Palatinate, surrendered at the very terror of the King of\nSweden's approach, and never suffered the danger of a siege.\nThe king held a most magnificent court at Mentz, attended by the\nLandgrave of Hesse, with an incredible number of princes and lords\nof the empire, with ambassadors and residents of foreign princes;\nand here his Majesty stayed till March, when the queen, with a great\nretinue of Swedish nobility, came from Erfurt to see him. The king,\nattended by a gallant train of German nobility, went to Frankfort, and\nfrom thence on to Hoest, to meet the queen, where her Majesty arrived\nFebruary 8.\nDuring the king's stay in these parts, his armies were not idle, his\ntroops, on one side under the Rhinegrave, a brave and ever-fortunate\ncommander, and under the Landgrave of Hesse, on the other, ranged the\ncountry from Lorraine to Luxemburg, and past the Moselle on the west,\nand the Weser on the north. Nothing could stand before them: the\nSpanish army which came to the relief of the Catholic Electors was\neverywhere defeated and beaten quite out of the country, and the\nLorraine army quite ruined. 'Twas a most pleasant court sure as ever\nwas seen, where every day expresses arrived of armies defeated, towns\nsurrendered, contributions agreed upon, parties routed, prisoners\ntaken, and princes sending ambassadors to sue for truces and\nneutralities, to make submissions and compositions, and to pay arrears\nand contributions.\nHere arrived, February 10, the King of Bohemia from England, and with\nhim my Lord Craven, with a body of Dutch horse, and a very fine train\nof English volunteers, who immediately, without any stay, marched on\nto Hoest to wait upon his Majesty of Sweden, who received him with a\ngreat deal of civility, and was treated at a noble collation by the\nking and queen at Frankfort. Never had the unfortunate king so fair a\nprospect of being restored to his inheritance of the Palatinate as\nat that time, and had King James, his father-in-law, had a soul\nanswerable to the occasion, it had been effected before, but it was a\nstrange thing to see him equipped from the English court with one lord\nand about forty or fifty English gentlemen in his attendance, whereas\nhad the King of England now, as 'tis well known he might have done,\nfurnished him with 10,000 or 12,000 English foot, nothing could have\nhindered him taking a full possession of his country; and yet even\nwithout that help did the King of Sweden clear almost his whole\ncountry of Imperialists, and after his death reinstal his son in the\nElectorate; but no thanks to us.\nThe Lord Craven did me the honour to inquire for me by name, and his\nMajesty of Sweden did me yet more by presenting me to the King of\nBohemia, and my Lord Craven gave me a letter from my father. And\nspeaking something of my father having served under the Prince of\nOrange in the famous battle of Nieuport, the king, smiling, returned,\n\"And pray tell him from me his son has served as well in the warm\nbattle of Leipsic.\"\nMy father being very much pleased with the honour I had received from\nso great a king, had ordered me to acquaint his Majesty that, if he\npleased to accept of their service, he would raise him a regiment of\nEnglish horse at his own charge to be under my command, and to be\nsent over into Holland; and my Lord Craven had orders from the King of\nEngland to signify his consent to the said levy. I acquainted my old\nfriend Sir John Hepburn with the contents of the letter in order to\nhave his advice, who being pleased with the proposal, would have me\ngo to the king immediately with the letter, but present service put it\noff for some days.\nThe taking of Creutznach was the next service of any moment. The king\ndrew out in person to the siege of this town. The town soon came to\nparley, but the castle seemed a work of difficulty, for its situation\nwas so strong and so surrounded with works behind and above one and\nanother, that most people thought the king would receive a check\nfrom it; but it was not easy to resist the resolution of the King of\nSweden.\nHe never battered it but with two small pieces, but having viewed the\nworks himself, ordered a mine under the first ravelin, which being\nsprung with success, he commands a storm. I think there was not\nmore commanded men than volunteers, both English, Scots, French, and\nGermans. My old comrade was by this time recovered of his wound at\nLeipsic, and made one. The first body of volunteers, of about forty,\nwere led on by my Lord Craven, and I led the second, among whom were\nmost of the reformado Scots officers who took the castle of Oppenheim.\nThe first party was not able to make anything of it; the garrison\nfought with so much fury that many of the volunteer gentlemen being\nwounded, and some killed, the rest were beaten off with loss. The king\nwas in some passion at his men, and rated them for running away, as he\ncalled it, though they really retreated in good order, and commanded\nthe assault to be renewed. 'Twas our turn to fall on next. Our Scots\nofficers, not being used to be beaten, advanced immediately, and my\nLord Craven with his volunteers pierced in with us, fighting gallantly\nin the breach with a pike in his hand; and, to give him the honour due\nto his bravery, he was with the first on the top of the rampart, and\ngave his hand to my comrade, and lifted him up after him. We helped\none another up, till at last almost all the volunteers had gained\nthe height of the ravelin, and maintained it with a great deal of\nresolution, expecting when the commanded men had gained the same\nheight to advance upon the enemy; when one of the enemy's captains\ncalled to my Lord Craven, and told him if they might have honourable\nterms they would capitulate, which my lord telling him he would engage\nfor, the garrison fired no more, and the captain, leaping down from\nthe next rampart, came with my Lord Craven into the camp, where the\nconditions were agreed on, and the castle surrendered.\nAfter the taking of this town, the king, hearing of Tilly's approach,\nand how he had beaten Gustavus Horn, the king's field-marshal, out of\nBamberg, began to draw his forces together, and leaving the care of\nhis conquests in these parts to his chancellor Oxenstiern, prepares to\nadvance towards Bavaria.\nI had taken an opportunity to wait upon his Majesty with Sir John\nHepburn and being about to introduce the discourse of my father's\nletter, the king told me he had received a compliment on my account\nin a letter from King Charles. I told him his Majesty had by his\nexceeding generosity bound me and all my friends to pay their\nacknowledgments to him, and that I supposed my father had obtained\nsuch a mention of it from the King of England, as gratitude moved him\nto that his Majesty's favour had been shown in me to a family both\nwilling and ready to serve him, that I had received some commands from\nmy father, which, if his Majesty pleased to do me the honour to accept\nof, might put me in a condition to acknowledge his Majesty's goodness\nin a manner more proportioned to the sense I had of his favour; and\nwith that I produced my father's letter, and read that clause in it\nwhich related to the regiment of horse, which was as follows:--\n\"I read with a great deal of satisfaction the account you give of the\ngreat and extraordinary conquests of the King of Sweden, and with more\nhis Majesty's singular favour to you; I hope you will be careful to\nvalue and deserve so much honour. I am glad you rather chose to serve\nas a volunteer at your own charge, than to take any command, which,\nfor want of experience, you might misbehave in.\n\"I have obtained of the king that he will particularly thank his\nMajesty of Sweden for the honour he has done you, and if his Majesty\ngives you so much freedom, I could be glad you should in the humblest\nmanner thank his Majesty in the name of an old broken soldier.\n\"If you think yourself officer enough to command them, and his Majesty\npleased to accept them, I would have you offer to raise his Majesty\na regiment of horse, which, I think, I may near complete in our\nneighbourhood with some of your old acquaintance, who are very willing\nto see the world. If his Majesty gives you the word, they shall\nreceive his commands in the Maes, the king having promised me to give\nthem arms, and transport them for that service into Holland; and I\nhope they may do his Majesty such service as may be for your honour\nand the advantage of his Majesty's interest and glory.\"\n\"YOUR LOVING FATHER.\"\n\"'Tis an offer like a gentleman and like a soldier,\" says the king,\"\nand I'll accept of it on two conditions: first,\" says the king, \"that\nI will pay your father the advance money for the raising the regiment;\nand next, that they shall be landed in the Weser or the Elbe; for\nwhich, if the King of England will not, I will pay the passage; for\nif they land in Holland, it may prove very difficult to get them to us\nwhen the army shall be marched out of this part of the country.\"\nI returned this answer to my father, and sent my man George into\nEngland to order that regiment, and made him quartermaster. I sent\nblank commissions for the officers, signed by the king, to be filled\nup as my father should think fit; and when I had the king's order for\nthe commissions, the secretary told me I must go back to the king with\nthem. Accordingly I went back to the king, who, opening the packet,\nlaid all the commissions but one upon a table before him, and bade\nme take them, and keeping that one still in his hand, \"Now,\" says he,\n\"you are one of my soldiers,\" and therewith gave me his commission, as\ncolonel of horse in present pay. I took the commission kneeling,\nand humbly thanked his Majesty. \"But,\" says the king, \"there is one\narticle-of-war I expect of you more than of others.\" \"Your Majesty can\nexpect nothing of me which I shall not willingly comply with,\" said I,\n\"as soon as I have the honour to understand what it is.\" \"Why, it is,\"\nsays the king, \"that you shall never fight but when you have orders,\nfor I shall not be willing to lose my colonel before I have the\nregiment.\" \"I shall be ready at all times, sir,\" returned I, \"to obey\nyour Majesty's orders.\"\nI sent my man express with the king's answer and the commission to my\nfather, who had the regiment completed in less than two months' time,\nand six of the officers, with a list of the rest, came away to me,\nwhom I presented to his Majesty when he lay before Nuremberg, where\nthey kissed his hand.\nOne of the captains offered to bring the whole regiment travelling as\nprivate men into the army in six weeks' time, and either to transport\ntheir equipage, or buy it in Germany, but 'twas thought impracticable.\nHowever, I had so many come in that manner that I had a complete troop\nalways about me, and obtained the king's order to muster them as a\ntroop.\nOn the 8th of March the king decamped, and, marching up the river\nMaine, bent his course directly for Bavaria, taking several small\nplaces by the way, and expecting to engage with Tilly, who he thought\nwould dispute his entrance into Bavaria, kept his army together; but\nTilly, finding himself too weak to encounter him, turned away, and\nleaving Bavaria open to the king, marched into the Upper Palatinate.\nThe king finding the country clear of the Imperialists comes to\nNuremberg, made his entrance into that city the 21st of March, and\nbeing nobly treated by the citizens, he continued his march into\nBavaria, and on the 26th sat down before Donauwerth. The town was\ntaken the next day by storm, so swift were the conquests of this\ninvincible captain. Sir John Hepburn, with the Scots and the English\nvolunteers at the head of them, entered the town first, and cut all\nthe garrison to pieces, except such as escaped over the bridge.\nI had no share in the business of Donauwerth, being now among the\nhorse, but I was posted on the roads with five troops of horse, where\nwe picked up a great many stragglers of the garrison, whom we made\nprisoners of war.\n'Tis observable that this town of Donauwerth is a very strong place\nand well fortified, and yet such expedition did the king make, and\nsuch resolution did he use in his first attacks, that he carried the\ntown without putting himself to the trouble of formal approaches.\n'Twas generally his way when he came before any town with a design to\nbesiege it; he never would encamp at a distance and begin his trenches\na great way off, but bring his men immediately within half musket-shot\nof the place; there getting under the best cover he could, he would\nimmediately begin his batteries and trenches before their faces;\nand if there was any place possibly to be attacked, he would fall to\nstorming immediately. By this resolute way of coming on he carried\nmany a town in the first heat of his men, which would have held out\nmany days against a more regular siege.\nThis march of the king broke all Tilly's measures, for now he was\nobliged to face about, and leaving the Upper Palatinate, to come\nto the assistance of the Duke of Bavaria; for the king being 20,000\nstrong, besides 10,000 foot and 4000 horse and dragoons which joined\nhim from the Duringer Wald, was resolved to ruin the duke, who lay\nnow open to him, and was the most powerful and inveterate enemy of the\nProtestants in the empire.\nTilly was now joined with the Duke of Bavaria, and might together make\nabout 22,000 men, and in order to keep the Swedes out of the country\nof Bavaria, had planted themselves along the banks of the river Lech,\nwhich runs on the edge of the duke's territories; and having fortified\nthe other side of the river, and planted his cannon for several miles\nat all the convenient places on the river, resolved to dispute the\nking's passage.\nI shall be the longer in relating this account of the Lech, being\nesteemed in those days as great an action as any battle or siege of\nthat age, and particularly famous for the disaster of the gallant old\nGeneral Tilly; and for that I can be more particular in it than other\naccounts, having been an eye-witness to every part of it.\nThe king being truly informed of the disposition of the Bavarian army,\nwas once of the mind to have left the banks of the Lech, have repassed\nthe Danube, and so setting down before Ingolstadt, the duke's capital\ncity, by the taking that strong town to have made his entrance into\nBavaria, and the conquest of such a fortress, one entire action;\nbut the strength of the place and the difficulty of maintaining his\nleaguer in an enemy's country while Tilly was so strong in the field,\ndiverted him from that design; he therefore concluded that Tilly\nwas first to be beaten out of the country, and then the siege of\nIngolstadt would be the easier.\nWhereupon the king resolved to go and view the situation of the enemy.\nHis Majesty went out the 2nd of April with a strong party of horse,\nwhich I had the honour to command. We marched as near as we could\nto the banks of the river, not to be too much exposed to the enemy's\ncannon, and having gained a little height, where the whole course of\nthe river might be seen, the king halted, and commanded to draw up.\nThe king alighted, and calling me to him, examined every reach and\nturning of the river by his glass, but finding the river run a long\nand almost a straight course he could find no place which he liked;\nbut at last turning himself north, and looking down the stream, he\nfound the river, stretching a long reach, doubles short upon itself,\nmaking a round and very narrow point. \"There's a point will do our\nbusiness,\" says the king, \"and if the ground be good I'll pass there,\nlet Tilly do his worst.\"\nHe immediately ordered a small party of horse to view the ground, and\nto bring him word particularly how high the bank was on each side and\nat the point. \"And he shall have fifty dollars,\" says the king, \"that\nwill bring me word how deep the water is.\" I asked his Majesty leave\nto let me go, which he would by no means allow of; but as the party\nwas drawing out, a sergeant of dragoons told the king, if he pleased\nto let him go disguised as a boor, he would bring him an account of\neverything he desired. The king liked the notion well enough, and\nthe fellow being very well acquainted with the country, puts on a\nploughman's habit, and went away immediately with a long pole upon\nhis shoulder. The horse lay all this while in the woods, and the\nking stood undiscerned by the enemy on the little hill aforesaid. The\ndragoon with his long pole comes down boldly to the bank of the river,\nand calling to the sentinels which Tilly had placed on the other\nbank, talked with them, asked them if they could not help him over the\nriver, and pretended he wanted to come to them. At last being come to\nthe point where, as I said, the river makes a short turn, he stands\nparleying with them a great while, and sometimes, pretending to wade\nover, he puts his long pole into the water, then finding it pretty\nshallow he pulls off his hose and goes in, still thrusting his pole in\nbefore him, till being gotten up to his middle, he could reach beyond\nhim, where it was too deep, and so shaking his head, comes back again.\nThe soldiers on the other side, laughing at him, asked him if he could\nswim? He said, \"No,\" \"Why, you fool you,\" says one of the sentinels,\n\"the channel of the river is twenty feet deep.\" \"How do you know\nthat?\" says the dragoon. \"Why, our engineer,\" says he, \"measured it\nyesterday.\" This was what he wanted, but not yet fully satisfied,\n\"Ay, but,\" says he, \"maybe it may not be very broad, and if one of you\nwould wade in to meet me till I could reach you with my pole, I'd give\nhim half a ducat to pull me over.\" The innocent way of his discourse\nso deluded the soldiers, that one of them immediately strips and goes\nin up to the shoulders, and our dragoon goes in on this side to meet\nhim; but the stream took t' other soldier away, and he being a good\nswimmer, came swimming over to this side. The dragoon was then in a\ngreat deal of pain for fear of being discovered, and was once going\nto kill the fellow, and make off; but at last resolved to carry on the\nhumour, and having entertained the fellow with a tale of a tub, about\nthe Swedes stealing his oats, the fellow being a-cold wanted to be\ngone, and he as willing to be rid of him, pretended to be very sorry\nhe could not get over the river, and so makes off.\nBy this, however, he learned both the depth and breadth of the\nchannel, the bottom and nature of both shores, and everything the king\nwanted to know. We could see him from the hill by our glasses very\nplain, and could see the soldier naked with him. Says the king, \"He\nwill certainly be discovered and knocked on the head from the other\nside: he is a fool,\" says the king, \"he does not kill the fellow and\nrun off.\" But when the dragoon told his tale, the king was extremely\nwell satisfied with him, gave him a hundred dollars, and made him a\nquartermaster to a troop of cuirassiers.\nThe king having farther examined the dragoon, he gave him a very\ndistinct account of the shore and the ground on this side, which he\nfound to be higher than the enemy's by ten or twelve foot, and a hard\ngravel.\nHereupon the king resolves to pass there, and in order to it gives,\nhimself, particular directions for such a bridge as I believe never\narmy passed a river on before nor since.\nHis bridge was only loose planks laid upon large tressels in the same\nhomely manner as I have seen bricklayers raise a low scaffold to build\na brick wall; the tressels were made higher than one another to answer\nto the river as it became deeper or shallower, and was all framed and\nfitted before any appearance was made of attempting to pass.\nWhen all was ready the king brings his army down to the bank of the\nriver, and plants his cannon as the enemy had done, some here and some\nthere, to amuse them.\nAt night, April 4th, the king commanded about 2000 men to march to\nthe point, and to throw up a trench on either side, and quite round\nit with a battery of six pieces of cannon at each end, besides three\nsmall mounts, one at the point and one of each side, which had each of\nthem two pieces upon them. This work was begun so briskly and so well\ncarried on, the king firing all the night from the other parts of\nthe river, that by daylight all the batteries at the new work were\nmounted, the trench lined with 2000 musketeers, and all the utensils\nof the bridge lay ready to be put together.\nNow the Imperialists discovered the design, but it was too late\nto hinder it; the musketeers in the great trench, and the five new\nbatteries, made such continual fire that the other bank, which, as\nbefore, lay twelve feet below them, was too hot for the Imperialists;\nwhereupon Tilly, to be provided for the king at his coming over, falls\nto work in a wood right against the point, and raises a great battery\nfor twenty pieces of cannon, with a breastwork or line, as near the\nriver as he could, to cover his men, thinking that when the king had\nbuilt his bridge he might easily beat it down with his cannon.\nBut the king had doubly prevented him, first by laying his bridge so\nlow that none of Tilly's shot could hurt it; for the bridge lay not\nabove half a foot above the water's edge, by which means the king, who\nin that showed himself an excellent engineer, had secured it from\nany batteries to be made within the land, and the angle of the bank\nsecured it from the remoter batteries on the other side, and the\ncontinual fire of the cannon and small shot beat the Imperialists from\ntheir station just against it, they having no works to cover them.\nAnd in the second place, to secure his passage he sent over about\n200 men, and after that 200 more, who had orders to cast up a large\nravelin on the other bank, just where he designed to land his bridge.\nThis was done with such expedition too, that it was finished before\nnight, and in condition to receive all the shot of Tilly's great\nbattery, and effectually covered his bridge. While this was doing the\nking on his side lays over his bridge. Both sides wrought hard all\nday and night, as if the spade, not the sword, had been to decide\nthe controversy, and that he had got the victory whose trenches and\nbatteries were first ready. In the meanwhile the cannon and musket\nbullets flew like hail, and made the service so hot that both sides\nhad enough to do to make their men stand to their work. The king, in\nthe hottest of it, animated his men by his presence, and Tilly, to\ngive him his due, did the same; for the execution was so great, and\nso many officers killed, General Altringer wounded, and two\nsergeant-majors killed, that at last Tilly himself was obliged\nto expose himself, and to come up to the very face of our line to\nencourage his men, and give his necessary orders.\nAnd here about one o'clock, much about the time that the king's\nbrigade and works were finished, and just as they said he had ordered\nto fall on upon our ravelin with 3000 foot, was the brave old\nTilly slain with a musket ball in the thigh. He was carried off to\nIngolstadt, and lived some days after, but died of that wound the\nsame day as the king had his horse shot under him at the siege of that\ntown.\nWe made no question of passing the river here, having brought\neverything so forward, and with such extraordinary success; but we\nshould have found it a very hot piece of work if Tilly had lived one\nday more, and, if I may give my opinion of it, having seen Tilly's\nbattery and breastwork, in the face of which we must have passed the\nriver, I must say that, whenever we had marched, if Tilly had fallen\nin with his horse and foot, placed in that trench, the whole army\nwould have passed as much danger as in the face of a strong town in\nthe storming a counterscarp. The king himself, when he saw with what\njudgment Tilly had prepared his works, and what danger he must have\nrun, would often say that day's success was every way equal to the\nvictory of Leipsic.\nTilly being hurt and carried off, as if the soul of the army had been\nlost, they began to draw off. The Duke of Bavaria took horse and rid\naway as if he had fled out of battle for his life.\nThe other generals, with a little more caution, as well as courage,\ndrew off by degrees, sending their cannon and baggage away first, and\nleaving some to continue firing on the bank of the river, to conceal\ntheir retreat. The river preventing any intelligence, we knew nothing\nof the disaster befallen them; and the king, who looked for blows,\nhaving finished his bridge and ravelin, ordered to run a line with\npalisadoes to take in more ground on the bank of the river, to cover\nthe first troops he should send over. This being finished the same\nnight, the king sends over a party of his guards to relieve the men\nwho were in the ravelin, and commanded 600 musketeers to man the new\nline out of the Scots brigade.\nEarly in the morning a small party of Scots, commanded by one Captain\nForbes, of my Lord Reay's regiment, were sent out to learn something\nof the enemy, the king observing they had not fired all night; and\nwhile this party were abroad, the army stood in battalia; and my old\nfriend Sir John Hepburn, whom of all men the king most depended upon\nfor any desperate service, was ordered to pass the bridge with his\nbrigade, and to draw up without the line, with command to advance as\nhe found the horse, who were to second him, come over.\nSir John being passed without the trench, meets Captain Forbes with\nsome prisoners, and the good news of the enemy's retreat. He sends him\ndirectly to the king, who was by this time at the head of his army,\nin full battalia, ready to follow his vanguard, expecting a hot day's\nwork of it. Sir John sends messenger after messenger to the king,\nentreating him to give him orders to advance; but the king would not\nsuffer him, for he was ever upon his guard, and would not venture a\nsurprise; so the army continued on this side the Lech all day and the\nnext night. In the morning the king sent for me, and ordered me to\ndraw out 300 horse, and a colonel with 600 horse, and a colonel with\n800 dragoons, and ordered us to enter the wood by three ways, but\nso as to be able to relieve one another; and then ordered Sir John\nHepburn with his brigade to advance to the edge of the wood to secure\nour retreat, and at the same time commanded another brigade of foot to\npass the bridge, if need were, to second Sir John Hepburn, so warily\ndid this prudent general proceed.\nWe advanced with our horse into the Bavarian camp, which we found\nforsaken. The plunder of it was inconsiderable, for the exceeding\ncaution the king had used gave them time to carry off all their\nbaggage. We followed them three or four miles, and returned to our\ncamp.\nI confess I was most diverted that day with viewing the works which\nTilly had cast up, and must own again that had he not been taken off\nwe had met with as desperate a piece of work as ever was attempted.\nThe next day the rest of the cavalry came up to us, commanded by\nGustavus Horn, and the king and the whole army followed. We advanced\nthrough the heart of Bavaria, took Rain at the first summons, and\nseveral other small towns, and sat down before Augsburg.\nAugsburg, though a Protestant city, had a Popish Bavarian garrison\nin it of above 5000 men, commanded by a Fugger, a great family in\nBavaria. The governor had posted several little parties as out-scouts\nat the distance of two miles and a half or three miles from the town.\nThe king, at his coming up to this town, sends me with my little troop\nand three companies of dragoons to beat in these out-scouts. The first\nparty I lighted on was not above sixteen men, who had made a small\nbarricado across the road, and stood resolutely upon their guard. I\ncommanded the dragoons to alight and open the barricado, which, while\nthey resolutely performed, the sixteen men gave them two volleys of\ntheir muskets, and through the enclosures made their retreat to a\nturnpike about a quarter of a mile farther. We passed their first\ntraverse, and coming up to the turnpike, I found it defended by 200\nmusketeers. I prepared to attack them, sending word to the king how\nstrong the enemy was, and desired some foot to be sent me. My dragoons\nfell on, and though the enemy made a very hot fire, had beat them from\nthis post before 200 foot, which the king had sent me, had come\nup. Being joined with the foot, I followed the enemy, who retreated\nfighting, till they came under the cannon of a strong redoubt, where\nthey drew up, and I could see another body of foot of about 300 join\nthem out of the works; upon which I halted, and considering I was in\nview of the town, and a great way from the army, I faced about and\nbegan to march off. As we marched I found the enemy followed, but\nkept at a distance, as if they only designed to observe me. I had not\nmarched far, but I heard a volley of small shot, answered by two or\nthree more, which I presently apprehended to be at the turnpike,\nwhere I had left a small guard of twenty-six men with a lieutenant.\nImmediately I detached 100 dragoons to relieve my men and secure\nmy retreat, following myself as fast as the foot could march. The\nlieutenant sent me back word the post was taken by the enemy, and my\nmen cut off. Upon this I doubled my pace, and when I came up I found\nit as the lieutenant said; for the post was taken and manned with 300\nmusketeers and three troops of horse. By this time, also, I found the\nparty in my rear made up towards me, so that I was like to be charged\nin a narrow place both in front and rear.\nI saw there was no remedy but with all my force to fall upon that\nparty before me, and so to break through before those from the town\ncould come up with me; wherefore, commanding my dragoons to alight, I\nordered them to fall on upon the foot. Their horse were drawn up in\nan enclosed field on one side of the road, a great ditch securing the\nother side, so that they thought if I charged the foot in front they\nwould fall upon my flank, while those behind would charge my rear;\nand, indeed, had the other come in time, they had cut me off. My\ndragoons made three fair charges on their foot, but were received with\nso much resolution and so brisk a fire, that they were beaten off, and\nsixteen men killed. Seeing them so rudely handled, and the horse ready\nto fall in, I relieved them with 100 musketeers, and they renewed\nthe attack; at the same time, with my troop of horse, flanked on both\nwings with fifty musketeers, I faced their horse, but did not offer\nto charge them. The case grew now desperate, and the enemy behind\nwere just at my heels with near 600 men. The captain who commanded the\nmusketeers who flanked my horse came up to me; says he, \"If we do not\nforce this pass all will be lost; if you will draw out your troop and\ntwenty of my foot, and fall in, I'll engage to keep off the horse with\nthe rest.\" \"With all my heart,\" says I.\nImmediately I wheeled off my troop, and a small party of the\nmusketeers followed me, and fell in with the dragoons and foot, who,\nseeing the danger too as well as I, fought like madmen. The foot at\nthe turnpike were not able to hinder our breaking through, so we\nmade our way out, killing about 150 of them, and put the rest into\nconfusion.\nBut now was I in as great a difficulty as before how to fetch off my\nbrave captain of foot, for they charged home upon him. He defended\nhimself with extraordinary gallantry, having the benefit of a piece of\na hedge to cover him, but he lost half his men, and was just upon\nthe point of being defeated when the king, informed by a soldier that\nescaped from the turnpike, one of twenty-six, had sent a party of 600\ndragoons to bring me off; these came upon the spur, and joined with\nme just as I had broke through the turnpike. The enemy's foot rallied\nbehind their horse, and by this time their other party was come in;\nbut seeing our relief they drew off together.\nI lost above 100 men in these skirmishes, and killed them about 180.\nWe secured the turnpike, and placed a company of foot there with 100\ndragoons, and came back well beaten to the army. The king, to prevent\nsuch uncertain skirmishes, advanced the next day in view of the town,\nand, according to his custom, sits down with his whole army within\ncannon-shot of their walls.\nThe King won this great city by force of words, for by two or three\nmessages and letters to and from the citizens, the town was gained,\nthe garrison not daring to defend them against their wills. His\nMajesty made his public entrance into the city on the 14th of April,\nand receiving the compliments of the citizens, advanced immediately to\nIngolstadt, which is accounted, and really is, the strongest town in\nall these parts.\nThe town had a very strong garrison in it, and the Duke of Bavaria lay\nentrenched with his army under the walls of it, on the other side of\nthe river. The king, who never loved long sieges, having viewed the\ntown, and brought his army within musket-shot of it, called a council\nof war, where it was the king's opinion, in short, that the town would\nlose him more than 'twas worth, and therefore he resolved to raise his\nsiege.\nHere the king going to view the town had his horse shot with a\ncannon-bullet from the works, which tumbled the king and his horse\nover one another, that everybody thought he had been killed; but he\nreceived no hurt at all. That very minute, as near as could be learnt,\nGeneral Tilly died in the town of the shot he received on the bank of\nthe Lech, as aforesaid.\nI was not in the camp when the king was hurt, for the king had sent\nalmost all the horse and dragoons, under Gustavus Horn, to face the\nDuke of Bavaria's camp, and after that to plunder the country; which\ntruly was a work the soldiers were very glad of, for it was very\nseldom they had that liberty given them, and they made very good use\nof it when it was, for the country of Bavaria was rich and plentiful,\nhaving seen no enemy before during the whole war.\nThe army having left the siege of Ingolstadt, proceeds to take in the\nrest of Bavaria. Sir John Hepburn, with three brigades of foot, and\nGustavus Horn, with 3000 horse and dragoons, went to the Landshut, and\ntook it the same day. The garrison was all horse, and gave us several\ncamisadoes at our approach, in one of which I lost two of my\ntroops, but when we had beat them into close quarters they presently\ncapitulated. The general got a great sum of money of the town, besides\na great many presents to the officers. And from thence the king\nwent on to Munich, the Duke of Bavaria's court. Some of the general\nofficers would fain have had the plundering of the duke's palace, but\nthe king was too generous. The city paid him 400,000 dollars; and the\nduke's magazine was there seized, in which was 140 pieces of cannon,\nand small arms for above 20,000 men. The great chamber of the duke's\nrarities was preserved, by the king's special order, with a great deal\nof care. I expected to have stayed here some time, and to have taken\na very exact account of this curious laboratory; but being commanded\naway, I had no time, and the fate of the war never gave me opportunity\nto see it again.\nThe Imperialists, under the command of Commissary Osta, had\nbesieged Biberach, an Imperial city not very well fortified; and the\ninhabitants being under the Swedes' protection, defended themselves\nas well as they could, but were in great danger, and sent several\nexpresses to the king for help.\nThe king immediately detaches a strong body of horse and foot to\nrelieve Biberach, and would be the commander himself. I marched among\nthe horse, but the Imperialists saved us the labour; for the news\nof the king's coming frighted away Osta, that he left Biberach,\nand hardly looked behind him till he got up to the Bodensee, on the\nconfines of Switzerland.\nAt our return from this expedition the king had the first news of\nWallenstein's approach, who, on the death of Count Tilly, being\ndeclared generalissimo of the emperor's forces, had played the tyrant\nin Bohemia, and was now advancing with 60,000 men, as they reported,\nto relieve the Duke of Bavaria.\nThe king, therefore, in order to be in a posture to receive this great\ngeneral, resolves to quit Bavaria, and to expect him on the frontiers\nof Franconia. And because he knew the Nurembergers for their kindness\nto him would be the first sacrifice, he resolved to defend that city\nagainst him whatever it cost.\nNevertheless he did not leave Bavaria without a defence; but, on the\none hand, he left Sir John Baner with 10,000 men about Augsburg, and\nthe Duke of Saxe-Weimar with another like army about Ulm and Meningen,\nwith orders so to direct their march as that they might join him upon\nany occasion in a few days.\nWe encamped about Nuremberg the middle of June. The army, after so\nmany detachments, was not above 19,000 men. The Imperial army, joined\nwith the Bavarian, were not so numerous as was reported, but were\nreally 60,000 men. The king, not strong enough to fight, yet, as he\nused to say, was strong enough not to be forced to fight, formed his\ncamp so under the cannon of Nuremberg that there was no besieging the\ntown but they must besiege him too; and he fortified his camp in so\nformidable a manner that Wallenstein never durst attack him. On the\n30th of June Wallenstein's troops appeared, and on the 5th of July\nencamped close by the king, and posted themselves not on the Bavarian\nside, but between the king and his own friends of Schwaben and\nFrankenland, in order to intercept his provisions, and, as they\nthought, to starve him out of his camp.\nHere they lay to see, as it were, who could subsist longest. The king\nwas strong in horse, for we had full 8000 horse and dragoons in the\narmy, and this gave us great advantage in the several skirmishes we\nhad with the enemy. The enemy had possession of the whole country, and\nhad taken effectual care to furnish their army with provisions; they\nplaced their guards in such excellent order, to secure their convoys,\nthat their waggons went from stage to stage as quiet as in a time of\npeace, and were relieved every five miles by parties constantly\nposted on the road. And thus the Imperial general sat down by us, not\ndoubting but he should force the king either to fight his way through\non very disadvantageous terms, or to rise for want of provisions, and\nleave the city of Nuremberg a prey to his army; for he had vowed the\ndestruction of the city, and to make it a second Magdeburg.\nBut the king, who was not to be easily deceived, had countermined all\nWallenstein's designs. He had passed his honour to the Nurembergers\nthat he would not leave them, and they had undertaken to victual his\narmy, and secure him from want, which they did so effectually, that\nhe had no occasion to expose his troops to any hazard or fatigues for\nconvoys or forage on any account whatever.\nThe city of Nuremberg is a very rich and populous city, and the king\nbeing very sensible of their danger, had given his word for their\ndefence. And when they, being terrified at the threats of the\nImperialists, sent their deputies to beseech the king to take care of\nthem, he sent them word he would, and be besieged with them. They, on\nthe other hand, laid in such stores of all sorts of provision, both\nfor men and horse, that had Wallenstein lain before it six months\nlonger, there would have been no scarcity. Every private house was\na magazine, the camp was plentifully supplied with all manner of\nprovisions, and the market always full, and as cheap as in times of\npeace. The magistrates were so careful, and preserved so excellent an\norder in the disposal of all sorts of provision, that no engrossing of\ncorn could be practised, for the prices were every day directed at the\ntown-house; and if any man offered to demand more money for corn than\nthe stated price, he could not sell, because at the town store-house\nyou might buy cheaper. Here are two instances of good and bad conduct:\nthe city of Magdeburg had been entreated by the king to settle funds,\nand raise money for their provision and security, and to have a\nsufficient garrison to defend them, but they made difficulties, either\nto raise men for themselves, or to admit the king's troops to assist\nthem, for fear of the charge of maintaining them; and this was the\ncause of the city's ruin.\nThe city of Nuremberg opened their arms to receive the assistance\nproffered by the Swedes, and their purses to defend their town\nand common cause; and this was the saving them absolutely from\ndestruction. The rich burghers and magistrates kept open houses, where\nthe officers of the army were always welcome; and the council of the\ncity took such care of the poor that there was no complaining nor\ndisorders in the whole city. There is no doubt but it cost the city\na great deal of money; but I never saw a public charge borne with so\nmuch cheerfulness, nor managed with so much prudence and conduct in my\nlife. The city fed above 50,000 mouths every day, including their own\npoor, besides themselves; and yet when the king had lain thus three\nmonths, and finding his armies longer in coming up than he expected,\nasked the burgrave how their magazines held out, he answered, they\ndesired his Majesty not to hasten things for them, for they could\nmaintain themselves and him twelve months longer if there was\noccasion. This plenty kept both the army and city in good health, as\nwell as in good heart; whereas nothing was to be had of us but blows,\nfor we fetched nothing from without our works, nor had no business\nwithout the line but to interrupt the enemy.\nThe manner of the king's encampment deserves a particular chapter.\nHe was a complete surveyor and a master in fortification, not to be\noutdone by anybody. He had posted his army in the suburbs of the town,\nand drawn lines round the whole circumference, so that he begirt\nthe whole city with his army. His works were large, the ditch deep,\nflanked with innumerable bastions, ravelins, horn-works, forts,\nredoubts, batteries, and palisadoes, the incessant work of 8000 men\nfor about fourteen days; besides that, the king was adding something\nor other to it every day, and the very posture of his camp was\nenough to tell a bigger army than Wallenstein's that he was not to be\nassaulted in his trenches.\nThe king's design appeared chiefly to be the preservation of the\ncity; but that was not all. He had three armies acting abroad in\nthree several places. Gustavus Horn was on the Moselle, the chancellor\nOxenstiern about Mentz, Cologne, and the Rhine, Duke William and\nDuke Bernhard, together with General Baner, in Bavaria. And though he\ndesigned they should all join him, and had wrote to them all to that\npurpose, yet he did not hasten them, knowing that while he kept the\nmain army at bay about Nuremberg, they would, without opposition,\nreduce those several countries they were acting in to his power. This\noccasioned his lying longer in the camp at Nuremberg than he would\nhave done, and this occasioned his giving the Imperialists so many\nalarms by his strong parties of horse, of which he was well provided,\nthat they might not be able to make any considerable detachments for\nthe relief of their friends. And here he showed his mastership in the\nwar, for by this means his conquests went on as effectually as if he\nhad been abroad himself.\nIn the meantime it was not to be expected two such armies should lie\nlong so near without some action. The Imperial army, being masters\nof the field, laid the country for twenty miles round Nuremberg in a\nmanner desolate. What the inhabitants could carry away had been before\nsecured in such strong towns as had garrisons to protect them,\nand what was left the hungry Crabats devoured or set on fire; but\nsometimes they were met with by our men, who often paid them home for\nit. There had passed several small rencounters between our parties\nand theirs; and as it falls out in such cases, sometimes one side,\nsometimes the other, got the better. But I have observed there never\nwas any party sent out by the king's special appointment but always\ncame home with victory.\nThe first considerable attempt, as I remember, was made on a convoy of\nammunition. The party sent out was commanded by a Saxon colonel, and\nconsisted of 1000 horse and 500 dragoons, who burnt above 600 waggons\nloaded with ammunition and stores for the army, besides taking about\n2000 muskets, which they brought back to the army.\nThe latter end of July the king received advice that the Imperialists\nhad formed a magazine for provision at a town called Freynstat, twenty\nmiles from Nuremberg. Hither all the booty and contributions raised in\nthe Upper Palatinate, and parts adjacent, was brought and laid up as\nin a place of security, a garrison of 600 men being placed to defend\nit; and when a quantity of provisions was got together, convoys were\nappointed to fetch it off.\nThe king was resolved, if possible, to take or destroy this magazine;\nand sending for Colonel Dubalt, a Swede, and a man of extraordinary\nconduct, he tells him his design, and withal that he must be the man\nto put it in execution, and ordered him to take what forces he thought\nconvenient. The colonel, who knew the town very well, and the country\nabout it, told his Majesty he would attempt it with all his heart; but\nhe was afraid 'twould require some foot to make the attack. \"But we\ncan't stay for that,\" says the king; \"you must then take some dragoons\nwith you;\" and immediately the king called for me. I was just coming\nup the stairs as the king's page was come out to inquire for me, so\nI went immediately in to the king. \"Here is a piece of hot work\nfor you,\" says the king, \"Dubalt will tell it you; go together and\ncontrive it.\"\nWe immediately withdrew, and the colonel told me the design, and what\nthe king and he had discoursed; that, in his opinion, foot would be\nwanted: but the king had declared there was no time for the foot to\nmarch, and had proposed dragoons. I told him, I thought dragoons might\ndo as well; so we agreed to take 1600 horse and 400 dragoons. The\nking, impatient in his design, came into the room to us to know what\nwe had resolved on, approved our measures, gave us orders immediately;\nand, turning to me, \"You shall command the dragoons,\" says the king,\n\"but Dubalt must be general in this case, for he knows the country.\"\n\"Your Majesty,\" said I, \"shall be always served by me in any figure\nyou please.\" The king wished us good speed, and hurried us away the\nsame afternoon, in order to come to the place in time. We marched\nslowly on because of the carriages we had with us, and came to\nFreynstat about one o'clock in the night perfectly undiscovered. The\nguards were so negligent, that we came to the very port before they\nhad notice of us, and a sergeant with twelve dragoons thrust in upon\nthe out-sentinels, and killed them without noise.\nImmediately ladders were placed to the half-moon which defended\nthe gate, which the dragoons mounted and carried in a trice, about\ntwenty-eight men being cut in pieces within. As soon as the ravelin\nwas taken, they burst open the gate, at which I entered at the head of\n200 dragoons, and seized the drawbridge. By this time the town was\nin alarm, and the drums beat to arms, but it was too late, for by the\nhelp of a petard we broke open the gate, and entered the town. The\ngarrison made an obstinate fight for about half-an-hour, but our\nmen being all in, and three troops of horse dismounted coming to our\nassistance with their carabines, the town was entirely mastered by\nthree of the clock, and guards set to prevent anybody running to give\nnotice to the enemy. There were about 200 of the garrison killed, and\nthe rest taken prisoners. The town being thus secured, the gates were\nopened, and Colonel Dubalt came in with the horse.\nThe guards being set, we entered the magazine, where we found an\nincredible quantity of all sorts of provision. There was 150 tons of\nbread, 8000 sacks of meal, 4000 sacks of oats, and of other provisions\nin proportion. We caused as much of it as could be loaded to be\nbrought away in such waggons and carriages as we found, and set the\nrest on fire, town and all. We stayed by it till we saw it past a\npossibility of being saved, and then drew off with 800 waggons, which\nwe found in the place, most of which we loaded with bread, meal, and\noats. While we were doing this we sent a party of dragoons into the\nfields, who met us again as we came out, with above 1000 head of black\ncattle, besides sheep.\nOur next care was to bring this booty home without meeting with the\nenemy, to secure which, the colonel immediately despatched an\nexpress to the king, to let him know of our success, and to desire a\ndetachment might be made to secure our retreat, being charged with so\nmuch plunder.\nAnd it was no more than need; for though we had used all the diligence\npossible to prevent any notice, yet somebody, more forward than\nordinary, had escaped away, and carried news of it to the Imperial\narmy. The general, upon this bad news, detaches Major-General Sparr\nwith a body of 6000 men to cut off our retreat. The king, who had\nnotice of this detachment, marches out in person with 3000 men to wait\nupon General Sparr. All this was the account of one day. The king met\nGeneral Sparr at the moment when his troops were divided, fell upon\nthem, routed one part of them, and the rest in a few hours after,\nkilled them 1000 men, and took the general prisoner.\nIn the interval of this action we came safe to the camp with our\nbooty, which was very considerable, and would have supplied our whole\narmy for a month. Thus we feasted at the enemy's cost, and beat them\ninto the bargain.\nThe king gave all the live cattle to the Nurembergers, who, though\nthey had really no want of provisions, yet fresh meat was not so\nplentiful as such provisions which were stored up in vessels and laid\nby.\nAfter this skirmish we had the country more at command than before,\nand daily fetched in fresh provisions and forage in the fields.\nThe two armies had now lain a long time in sight of one another,\nand daily skirmishes had considerably weakened them; and the king,\nbeginning to be impatient, hastened the advancement of his friends\nto join him, in which also they were not backward; but having\ndrawn together their forces from several parts, and all joined the\nchancellor Oxenstiern, news came, the 15th of August, that they were\nin full march to join us; and being come to a small town called Brock,\nthe king went out of the camp with about 1000 horse to view them. I\nwent along with the horse, and the 21st of August saw the review\nof all the armies together, which were 30,000 men, in extraordinary\nequipage, old soldiers, and commanded by officers of the greatest\nconduct and experience in the world. There was the rich chancellor of\nSweden, who commanded as general; Gustavus Horn and John Baner, both\nSwedes and old generals; Duke William and Duke Bernhard of Weimar; the\nLandgrave of Hesse-Cassel, the Palatine of Birkenfelt, and abundance\nof princes and lords of the empire.\nThe armies being joined, the king, who was now a match for\nWallenstein, quits his camp and draws up in battalia before the\nImperial trenches: but the scene was changed. Wallenstein was no more\nable to fight now than the king was before; but, keeping within his\ntrenches, stood upon his guard. The king coming up close to his\nworks, plants batteries, and cannonaded him in his very camp. The\nImperialists, finding the king press upon them, retreat into a woody\ncountry about three leagues, and, taking possession of an old ruined\ncastle, posted their army behind it.\nThis old castle they fortified, and placed a very strong guard there.\nThe king, having viewed the place, though it was a very strong post,\nresolved to attack it with the whole right wing. The attack was made\nwith a great deal of order and resolution, the king leading the first\nparty on with sword in hand, and the fight was maintained on both\nsides with the utmost gallantry and obstinacy all the day and the next\nnight too, for the cannon and musket never gave over till the morning;\nbut the Imperialists having the advantage of the hill, of their works\nand batteries, and being continually relieved, and the Swedes naked,\nwithout cannon or works, the post was maintained, and the king,\nfinding it would cost him too much blood, drew off in the morning.\nThis was the famous fight at Altemberg, where the Imperialists boasted\nto have shown the world the King of Sweden was not invincible. They\ncall it the victory at Altemberg; 'tis true the king failed in his\nattempt of carrying their works, but there was so little of a victory\nin it, that the Imperial general thought fit not to venture a second\nbrush, but to draw off their army as soon as they could to a safer\nquarter.\nI had no share in this attack, very few of the horse being in the\naction, but my comrade, who was always among the Scots volunteers, was\nwounded and taken prisoner by the enemy. They used him very civilly,\nand the king and Wallenstein straining courtesies with one another,\nthe king released Major-General Sparr without ransom, and the Imperial\ngeneral sent home Colonel Tortenson, a Swede, and sixteen volunteer\ngentlemen, who were taken in the heat of the action, among whom my\ncaptain was one.\nThe king lay fourteen days facing the Imperial army, and using all\nthe stratagems possible to bring them to a battle, but to no purpose,\nduring which time we had parties continually out, and very often\nskirmishes with the enemy.\nI had a command of one of these parties in an adventure, wherein I got\nno booty, nor much honour. The King had received advice of a convoy\nof provisions which was to come to the enemy's camp from the Upper\nPalatinate, and having a great mind to surprise them, he commanded\nus to waylay them with 1200 horse, and 800 dragoons. I had exact\ndirections given me of the way they were to come, and posting my horse\nin a village a little out of the road, I lay with my dragoons in a\nwood, by which they were to pass by break of day. The enemy appeared\nwith their convoy, and being very wary, their out-scouts discovered us\nin the wood, and fired upon the sentinel I had posted in a tree at\nthe entrance of the wood. Finding myself discovered, I would have\nretreated to the village where my horse were posted, but in a moment\nthe wood was skirted with the enemy's horse, and 1000 commanded\nmusketeers advanced to beat me out. In this pickle I sent away three\nmessengers one after another for the horse, who were within two miles\nof me, to advance to my relief; but all my messengers fell into the\nenemy's hands. Four hundred of my dragoons on foot, whom I had placed\nat a little distance before me, stood to their work, and beat off two\ncharges of the enemy's foot with some loss on both sides. Meantime 200\nof my men faced about, and rushing out of the wood, broke through\na party of the enemy's horse, who stood to watch our coming out. I\nconfess I was exceedingly surprised at it, thinking those fellows had\ndone it to make their escape, or else were gone over to the enemy; and\nmy men were so discouraged at it, that they began to look about\nwhich way to run to save themselves, and were just upon the point of\ndisbanding to shift for themselves, when one of the captains called\nto me aloud to beat a parley and treat. I made no answer, but, as if\nI had not heard him, immediately gave the word for all the captains to\ncome together. The consultation was but short, for the musketeers were\nadvancing to a third charge, with numbers which we were not likely to\ndeal with. In short, we resolved to beat a parley, and demand quarter,\nfor that was all we could expect, when on a sudden the body of horse\nI had posted in the village, being directed by the noise, had advanced\nto relieve me, if they saw occasion, and had met the 200 dragoons,\nwho guided them directly to the spot where they had broke through, and\naltogether fell upon the horse of the enemy, who were posted on that\nside, and, mastering them before they could be relieved, cut them all\nto pieces and brought me off. Under the shelter of this party, we made\ngood our retreat to the village, but we lost above 300 men, and were\nglad to make off from the village too, for the enemy were very much\ntoo strong for us.\nReturning thence towards the camp, we fell foul with 200 Crabats, who\nhad been upon the plundering account. We made ourselves some amends\nupon them for our former loss, for we showed them no mercy; but our\nmisfortunes were not ended, for we had but just despatched those\nCrabats when we fell in with 3000 Imperial horse, who, on the\nexpectation of the aforesaid convoy, were sent out to secure them.\nAll I could do could not persuade my men to stand their ground against\nthis party; so that finding they would run away in confusion, I agreed\nto make off, and facing to the right, we went over a large common\na full trot, till at last fear, which always increases in a flight,\nbrought us to a plain flight, the enemy at our heels. I must confess\nI was never so mortified in my life; 'twas to no purpose to turn head,\nno man would stand by us; we run for life, and a great many we left by\nthe way who were either wounded by the enemy's shot, or else could not\nkeep race with us.\nAt last, having got over the common, which was near two miles, we came\nto a lane; one of our captains, a Saxon by country, and a gentleman of\na good fortune, alighted at the entrance of the lane, and with a bold\nheart faced about, shot his own horse, and called his men to stand by\nhim and defend the lane. Some of his men halted, and we rallied about\n600 men, which we posted as well as we could, to defend the pass;\nbut the enemy charged us with great fury. The Saxon gentleman, after\ndefending himself with exceeding gallantry, and refusing quarter, was\nkilled upon the spot. A German dragoon, as I thought him, gave me a\nrude blow with the stock of his piece on the side of my head, and was\njust going to repeat it, when one of my men shot him dead. I was so\nstunned with the blow, that I knew nothing; but recovering, I found\nmyself in the hands of two of the enemy's officers, who offered me\nquarter, which I accepted; and indeed, to give them their due, they\nused me very civilly. Thus this whole party was defeated, and not\nabove 500 men got safe to the army; nor had half the number escaped,\nhad not the Saxon captain made so bold a stand at the head of the\nlane.\nSeveral other parties of the king's army revenged our quarrel, and\npaid them home for it; but I had a particular loss in this defeat,\nthat I never saw the king after; for though his Majesty sent a trumpet\nto reclaim us as prisoners the very next day, yet I was not delivered,\nsome scruple happening about exchanging, till after the battle of\nL\u00fctzen, where that gallant prince lost his life.\nThe Imperial army rose from their camp about eight or ten days after\nthe king had removed, and I was carried prisoner in the army till they\nsat down to the siege of Coburg Castle, and then was left with other\nprisoners of war, in the custody of Colonel Spezuter, in a small\ncastle near the camp called Neustadt. Here we continued indifferent\nwell treated, but could learn nothing of what action the armies were\nupon, till the Duke of Friedland, having been beaten off from the\ncastle of Coburg, marched into Saxony, and the prisoners were sent for\ninto the camp, as was said, in order to be exchanged.\nI came into the Imperial leaguer at the siege of Leipsic, and within\nthree days after my coming, the city was surrendered, and I got\nliberty to lodge at my old quarters in the town upon my parole.\nThe King of Sweden was at the heels of the Imperialists, for finding\nWallenstein resolved to ruin the Elector of Saxony, the king had\nre-collected as much of his divided army as he could, and came upon\nhim just as he was going to besiege Torgau.\nAs it is not my design to write a history of any more of these wars\nthan I was actually concerned in, so I shall only note that, upon\nthe king's approach, Wallenstein halted, and likewise called all his\ntroops together, for he apprehended the king would fall on him, and\nwe that were prisoners fancied the Imperial soldiers went unwillingly\nout, for the very name of the King of Sweden was become terrible to\nthem. In short, they drew all the soldiers of the garrison they could\nspare out of Leipsic; sent for Pappenheim again, who was gone but\nthree days before with 6000 men on a private expedition. On the 16th\nof November, the armies met on the plains of L\u00fctzen; a long and bloody\nbattle was fought, the Imperialists were entirely routed and beaten,\n12,000 slain upon the spot, their cannon, baggage, and 2000 prisoners\ntaken, but the King of Sweden lost his life, being killed at the head\nof his troops in the beginning of the fight.\nIt is impossible to describe the consternation the death of this\nconquering king struck into all the princes of Germany; the grief\nfor him exceeded all manner of human sorrow. All people looked upon\nthemselves as ruined and swallowed up; the inhabitants of two-thirds\nof all Germany put themselves into mourning for him; when the\nministers mentioned him in their sermons or prayers, whole\ncongregations would burst out into tears. The Elector of Saxony was\nutterly inconsolable, and would for several days walk about his palace\nlike a distracted man, crying the saviour of Germany was lost, the\nrefuge of abused princes was gone, the soul of the war was dead; and\nfrom that hour was so hopeless of out-living the war, that he sought\nto make peace with the emperor.\nThree days after this mournful victory, the Saxons recovered the town\nof Leipsic by stratagem. The Duke of Saxony's forces lay at Torgau,\nand perceiving the confusion the Imperialists were in at the news of\nthe overthrow of their army, they resolved to attempt the recovery of\nthe town. They sent about twenty scattering troopers, who, pretending\nthemselves to be Imperialists fled from the battle, were let in one by\none, and still as they came in, they stayed at the court of guard in\nthe port, entertaining the soldiers with discourse about the fight,\nand how they escaped, and the like, till the whole number being got\nin, at a watchword they fell on the guard, and cut them all in pieces;\nand immediately opening the gate to three troops of Saxon horse, the\ntown was taken in a moment.\nIt was a welcome surprise to me, for I was at liberty of course; and\nthe war being now on another foot, as I thought, and the king dead, I\nresolved to quit the service.\nI had sent my man, as I have already noted, into England, in order to\nbring over the troops my father had raised for the King of Sweden. He\nexecuted his commission so well, that he landed with five troops at\nEmbden in very good condition; and orders were sent them by the king,\nto join the Duke of Lunenberg's army, which they did at the siege of\nBoxtude, in the Lower Saxony. Here by long and very sharp service\nthey were most of them cut off, and though they were several times\nrecruited, yet I understood there were not three full troops left.\nThe Duke of Saxe-Weimar, a gentleman of great courage, had the command\nof the army after the king's death, and managed it with so much\nprudence, that all things were in as much order as could be expected,\nafter so great a loss; for the Imperialists were everywhere beaten,\nand Wallenstein never made any advantage of the king's death.\nI waited on him at Heilbronn, whither he was gone to meet the great\nchancellor of Sweden, where I paid him my respects, and desired he\nwould bestow the remainder of my regiment on my comrade the captain,\nwhich he did with all the civility and readiness imaginable. So I took\nmy leave of him, and prepared to come for England.\nI shall only note this, that at this Diet, the Protestant princes of\nthe empire renewed their league with one another, and with the crown\nof Sweden, and came to several regulations and conclusions for the\ncarrying on the war, which they afterwards prosecuted, under the\ndirection of the said chancellor of Sweden. But it was not the work of\na small difficulty nor of a short time. And having been persuaded\nto continue almost two years afterwards at Frankfort, Heilbronn, and\nthere-about, by the particular friendship of that noble wise man, and\nextraordinary statesman, Axeli Oxenstiern, chancellor of Sweden, I had\nopportunity to be concerned in, and present at, several treaties of\nextraordinary consequence, sufficient for a history, if that were my\ndesign.\nParticularly I had the happiness to be present at, and have some\nconcern in, the treaty for the restoring the posterity of the truly\nnoble Palsgrave, King of Bohemia. King James of England had indeed too\nmuch neglected the whole family; and I may say with authority enough,\nfrom my own knowledge of affairs, had nothing been done for them but\nwhat was from England, that family had remained desolate and forsaken\nto this day.\nBut that glorious king, whom I can never mention without some remark\nof his extraordinary merit, had left particular instructions with his\nchancellor to rescue the Palatinate to its rightful lord, as a proof\nof his design to restore the liberty of Germany, and reinstate the\noppressed princes who were subjected to the tyranny of the house of\nAustria.\nPursuant to this resolution, the chancellor proceeded very much like\na man of honour; and though the King of Bohemia was dead a little\nbefore, yet he carefully managed the treaty, answered the objections\nof several princes, who, in the general ruin of the family, had\nreaped private advantages, settled the capitulations for the quota of\ncontributions very much for their advantage, and fully reinstalled\nthe Prince Charles in the possession of all his dominions in the Lower\nPalatinate, which afterwards was confirmed to him and his posterity by\nthe peace of Westphalia, where all these bloody wars were finished\nin a peace, which has since been the foundation of the Protestants'\nliberty, and the best security of the whole empire.\nI spent two years rather in wandering up and down than travelling;\nfor though I had no mind to serve, yet I could not find in my heart to\nleave Germany; and I had obtained some so very close intimacies with\nthe general officers that I was often in the army, and sometimes they\ndid me the honour to bring me into their councils of war.\nParticularly, at that eminent council before the battle of N\u00f6rdlingen,\nI was invited to the council of war, both by Duke Bernhard of Weimar\nand by Gustavus Horn. They were generals of equal worth, and their\ncourage and experience had been so well, and so often tried, that more\nthan ordinary regard was always given to what they said. Duke Bernhard\nwas indeed the younger man, and Gustavus had served longer under our\ngreat schoolmaster the king; but it was hard to judge which was the\nbetter general, since both had experience enough, and shown undeniable\nproofs both of their bravery and conduct.\nI am obliged, in the course of my relation, so often to mention the\ngreat respect I often received from these great men, that it makes me\nsometimes jealous, lest the reader may think I affect it as a vanity.\nThe truth is, that I am ready to confess, the honours I received, upon\nall occasions, from persons of such worth, and who had such an eminent\nshare in the greatest action of that age, very much pleased me, and\nparticularly, as they gave me occasions to see everything that was\ndoing on the whole stage of the war. For being under no command,\nbut at liberty to rove about, I could come to no Swedish garrison or\nparty, but, sending my name to the commanding officer, I could have\nthe word sent me; and if I came into the army, I was often treated as\nI was now at this famous battle of N\u00f6rdlingen.\nBut I cannot but say, that I always looked upon this particular\nrespect to be the effect of more than ordinary regard the great king\nof Sweden always showed me, rather than any merit of my own; and the\nveneration they all had for his memory, made them continue to show me\nall the marks of a suitable esteem.\nBut to return to the council of war, the great and, indeed, the only\nquestion before us was, Shall we give battle to the Imperialists, or\nnot? Gustavus Horn was against it, and gave, as I thought, the most\ninvincible arguments against a battle that reason could imagine.\nFirst, they were weaker than the enemy by above 5000 men.\nSecondly, the Cardinal-Infant of Spain, who was in the Imperial army\nwith 8000 men, was but there _en passant_, being going from Italy to\nFlanders, to take upon him the government of the Low Countries; and if\nhe saw no prospect of immediate action, would be gone in a few days.\nThirdly, they had two reinforcements, one of 5000 men, under the\ncommand of Colonel Cratz, and one of 7000 men, under the Rhinegrave,\nwho were just at hand--the last within three days' march of them: and,\nLastly, they had already saved their honour; in that they had put 600\nfoot into the town of N\u00f6rdlingen, in the face of the enemy's army, and\nconsequently the town might hold out some days the longer.\nFate, rather than reason, certainly blinded the rest of the generals\nagainst such arguments as these. Duke Bernhard and almost all the\ngenerals were for fighting, alleging the affront it would be to the\nSwedish reputation to see their friends in the town lost before their\nfaces.\nGustavus Horn stood stiff to his cautious advice, and was against it,\nand I thought the Baron D'Offkirk treated him a little indecently;\nfor, being very warm in the matter, he told them, that if Gustavus\nAdolphus had been governed by such cowardly counsel, he had never\nbeen conqueror of half Germany in two years. \"No,\" replied old General\nHorn, very smartly, \"but he had been now alive to have testified for\nme, that I was never taken by him for a coward: and yet,\" says he,\n\"the king was never for a victory with a hazard, when he could have it\nwithout.\"\nI was asked my opinion, which I would have declined, being in no\ncommission; but they pressed me to speak. I told them I was for\nstaying at least till the Rhinegrave came up, who, at least, might, if\nexpresses were sent to hasten him, be up with us in twenty-four hours.\nBut Offkirk could not hold his passion, and had not he been overruled\nhe would have almost quarrelled with Marshal Horn. Upon which the old\ngeneral, not to foment him, with a great deal of mildness stood up,\nand spoke thus--\n\"Come, Offkirk,\" says he, \"I'll submit my opinion to you, and the\nmajority of our fellow-soldiers. We will fight, but, upon my word, we\nshall have our hands full.\"\nThe resolution thus taken, they attacked the Imperial army. I must\nconfess the counsels of this day seemed as confused as the resolutions\nof the night.\nDuke Bernhard was to lead the van of the left wing, and to post\nhimself upon a hill which was on the enemy's right without their\nentrenchments, so that, having secured that post, they might level\ntheir cannon upon the foot, who stood behind the lines, and relieved\nthe town at pleasure. He marched accordingly by break of day, and\nfalling with great fury upon eight regiments of foot, which were\nposted at the foot of the hill, he presently routed them, and made\nhimself master of the post. Flushed with this success, he never\nregards his own concerted measures of stopping there and possessing\nwhat he had got, but pushes on and falls in with the main body of the\nenemy's army.\nWhile this was doing, Gustavus Horn attacks another post on the hill,\nwhere the Spaniards had posted and lodged themselves behind some\nworks they had cast up on the side of the hill. Here they defended\nthemselves with extreme obstinacy for five hours, and at last obliged\nthe Swedes to give it over with loss. This extraordinary gallantry of\nthe Spaniards was the saving of the Imperial army; for Duke\nBernhard having all this while resisted the frequent charges of the\nImperialists, and borne the weight of two-thirds of their army, was\nnot able to stand any longer, but sending one messenger on the neck of\nanother to Gustavus Horn for more foot, he, finding he could not carry\nhis point, had given it over, and was in full march to second the\nduke. But now it was too late, for the King of Hungary seeing the\nduke's men, as it were, wavering, and having notice of Horn's wheeling\nabout to second him, falls in with all his force upon his flank,\nand with his Hungarian hussars, made such a furious charge, that the\nSwedes could stand no longer.\nThe rout of the left wing was so much the more unhappy, as it happened\njust upon Gustavus Horn's coming up; for, being pushed on with the\nenemies at their heels, they were driven upon their own friends, who,\nhaving no ground to open and give them way, were trodden down by their\nown runaway brethren. This brought all into the utmost confusion.\nThe Imperialists cried \"Victoria!\" and fell into the middle of the\ninfantry with a terrible slaughter.\nI have always observed, 'tis fatal to upbraid an old experienced\nofficer with want of courage. If Gustavus Horn had not been whetted\nwith the reproaches of the Baron D'Offkirk, and some of the other\ngeneral officers, I believe it had saved the lives of a thousand men;\nfor when all was thus lost, several officers advised him to make a\nretreat with such regiments as he had yet unbroken; but nothing could\npersuade him to stir a foot. But turning his flank into a front, he\nsaluted the enemy, as they passed by him in pursuit of the rest,\nwith such terrible volleys of small shot, as cost them the lives of\nabundance of their men.\nThe Imperialists, eager in the pursuit, left him unbroken, till the\nSpanish brigade came up and charged him. These he bravely repulsed\nwith a great slaughter, and after them a body of dragoons; till being\nlaid at on every side, and most of his men killed, the brave old\ngeneral, with all the rest who were left, were made prisoners.\nThe Swedes had a terrible loss here, for almost all their infantry\nwere killed or taken prisoners. Gustavus Horn refused quarter several\ntimes; and still those that attacked him were cut down by his men,\nwho fought like furies, and by the example of their general, behaved\nthemselves like lions. But at last, these poor remains of a body of\nthe bravest men in the world were forced to submit. I have heard him\nsay, he had much rather have died than been taken, but that he yielded\nin compassion to so many brave men as were about him; for none of them\nwould take quarter till he gave his consent.\nI had the worst share in this battle that ever I had in any action of\nmy life; and that was to be posted among as brave a body of horse as\nany in Germany, and yet not be able to succour our own men; but\nour foot were cut in pieces (as it were) before our faces, and the\nsituation of the ground was such as we could not fall in. All that we\nwere able to do, was to carry off about 2000 of the foot, who, running\naway in the rout of the left wing, rallied among our squadrons, and\ngot away with us. Thus we stood till we saw all was lost, and then\nmade the best retreat we could to save ourselves, several regiments\nhaving never charged, nor fired a shot; for the foot had so\nembarrassed themselves among the lines and works of the enemy, and in\nthe vineyards and mountains, that the horse were rendered absolutely\nunserviceable.\nThe Rhinegrave had made such expedition to join us, that he reached\nwithin three miles of the place of action that night, and he was a\ngreat safeguard for us in rallying our dispersed men, who else had\nfallen into the enemy's hands, and in checking the pursuit of the\nenemy.\nAnd indeed, had but any considerable body of the foot made an orderly\nretreat, it had been very probable they had given the enemy a brush\nthat would have turned the scale of victory; for our horse being\nwhole, and in a manner untouched, the enemy found such a check in the\npursuit, that 1600 of their forwardest men following too eagerly, fell\nin with the Rhinegrave's advanced troops the next day, and were cut in\npieces without mercy.\nThis gave us some satisfaction for the loss, but it was but small\ncompared to the ruin of that day. We lost near 8000 men upon the spot,\nand above 3000 prisoners, all our cannon and baggage, and 120 colours.\nI thought I never made so indifferent a figure in my life, and so we\nthought all; to come away, lose our infantry, our general, and our\nhonour, and never fight for it. Duke Bernhard was utterly disconsolate\nfor old Gustavus Horn, for he concluded him killed; he tore the hair\nfrom his head like a madman, and telling the Rhinegrave the story of\nthe council of war, would reproach himself with not taking his advice,\noften repeating it in his passion. \"Tis I,\" said he, \"have been the\ndeath of the bravest general in Germany;\" would call himself fool\nand boy, and such names, for not listening to the reasons of an old\nexperienced soldier. But when he heard he was alive in the enemy's\nhands he was the easier, and applied himself to the recruiting his\ntroops, and the like business of the war; and it was not long before\nhe paid the Imperialists with interest.\nI returned to Frankfort-au-Main after this action, which happened the\n17th of August 1634; but the progress of the Imperialists was so great\nthat there was no staying at Frankfort. The chancellor Oxenstiern\nremoved to Magdeburg, Duke Bernhard and the Landgrave marched into\nAlsatia, and the Imperialists carried all before them for all the rest\nof the campaign. They took Philipsburg by surprise; they took Augsburg\nby famine, Spire and Treves by sieges, taking the Elector prisoner.\nBut this success did one piece of service to the Swedes, that it\nbrought the French into the war on their side, for the Elector of\nTreves was their confederate. The French gave the conduct of the war\nto Duke Bernhard. This, though the Duke of Saxony fell off, and fought\nagainst them, turned the scale so much in their favour, that they\nrecovered their losses, and proved a terror to all Germany. The\nfarther accounts of the war I refer to the histories of those times,\nwhich I have since read with a great deal of delight.\nI confess when I saw the progress of the Imperial army, after the\nbattle of N\u00f6rdlingen, and the Duke of Saxony turning his arms against\nthem, I thought their affairs declining; and, giving them over for\nlost, I left Frankfort, and came down the Rhine to Cologne, and from\nthence into Holland.\nI came to the Hague the 8th of March 1635, having spent three years\nand a half in Germany, and the greatest part of it in the Swedish\narmy.\nI spent some time in Holland viewing the wonderful power of art,\nwhich I observed in the fortifications of their towns, where the very\nbastions stand on bottomless morasses, and yet are as firm as any in\nthe world. There I had the opportunity of seeing the Dutch army,\nand their famous general, Prince Maurice. 'Tis true, the men behaved\nthemselves well enough in action, when they were put to it, but the\nprince's way of beating his enemies without fighting, was so unlike\nthe gallantry of my royal instructor, that it had no manner of relish\nwith me. Our way in Germany was always to seek out the enemy and fight\nhim; and, give the Imperialists their due, they were seldom hard to\nbe found, but were as free of their flesh as we were. Whereas Prince\nMaurice would lie in a camp till he starved half his men, if by lying\nthere he could but starve two-thirds of his enemies; so that indeed\nthe war in Holland had more of fatigues and hardships in it, and ours\nhad more of fighting and blows. Hasty marches, long and unwholesome\nencampments, winter parties, counter-marching, dodging and\nentrenching, were the exercises of his men, and oftentimes killed\nhim more men with hunger, cold and diseases, than he could do with\nfighting. Not that it required less courage, but rather more, for\na soldier had at any time rather die in the field _a la coup de\nmousquet_, than be starved with hunger, or frozen to death in the\ntrenches.\nNor do I think I lessen the reputation of that great general; for 'tis\nmost certain he ruined the Spaniard more by spinning the war thus out\nin length, than he could possibly have done by a swift conquest.\nFor had he, Gustavus-like, with a torrent of victory dislodged the\nSpaniard of all the twelve provinces in five years, whereas he was\nforty years a-beating them out of seven, he had left them rich and\nstrong at home, and able to keep them in constant apprehensions of a\nreturn of his power. Whereas, by the long continuance of the war, he\nso broke the very heart of the Spanish monarchy, so absolutely and\nirrecoverably impoverished them, that they have ever since languished\nof the disease, till they are fallen from the most powerful, to be the\nmost despicable nation in the world.\nThe prodigious charge the King of Spain was at in losing the seven\nprovinces, broke the very spirit of the nation; and that so much,\nthat all the wealth of their Peruvian mountains have not been able to\nretrieve it; King Philip having often declared that war, besides his\nArmada for invading England, had cost him 370,000,000 of ducats, and\n4,000,000 of the best soldiers in Europe; whereof, by an unreasonable\nSpanish obstinacy, above 60,000 lost their lives before Ostend, a town\nnot worth a sixth part either of the blood or money it cost in a siege\nof three years; and which at last he had never taken, but that Prince\nMaurice thought it not worth the charge of defending it any longer.\nHowever, I say, their way of fighting in Holland did not relish with\nme at all. The prince lay a long time before a little fort called\nSchenkenschanz, which the Spaniard took by surprise, and I thought he\nmight have taken it much sooner. Perhaps it might be my mistake, but\nI fancied my hero, the King of Sweden, would have carried it sword in\nhand, in half the time.\nHowever it was, I did not like it; so in the latter end of the year I\ncame to the Hague, and took shipping for England, where I arrived, to\nthe great satisfaction of my father and all my friends.\nMy father was then in London, and carried me to kiss the king's hand.\nHis Majesty was pleased to receive me very well, and to say a great\nmany very obliging things to my father upon my account.\nI spent my time very retired from court, for I was almost wholly in\nthe country; and it being so much different from my genius, which\nhankered after a warmer sport than hunting among our Welsh mountains,\nI could not but be peeping in all the foreign accounts from Germany,\nto see who and who was together. There I could never hear of a battle,\nand the Germans being beaten, but I began to wish myself there.\nBut when an account came of the progress of John Baner, the Swedish\ngeneral in Saxony, and of the constant victories he had there over the\nSaxons, I could no longer contain myself, but told my father this life\nwas very disagreeable to me; that I lost my time here, and might to\nmuch more advantage go into Germany, where I was sure I might make my\nfortune upon my own terms; that, as young as I was, I might have been\na general officer by this time, if I had not laid down my commission;\nthat General Baner, or the Marshal Horn, had either of them so much\nrespect for me, that I was sure I might have anything of them; and\nthat if he pleased to give me leave, I would go for Germany again. My\nfather was very unwilling to let me go, but seeing me uneasy, told\nme that, if I was resolved, he would oblige me to stay no longer in\nEngland than the next spring, and I should have his consent.\nThe winter following began to look very unpleasant upon us in England,\nand my father used often to sigh at it; and would tell me sometimes\nhe was afraid we should have no need to send Englishmen to fight in\nGermany.\nThe cloud that seemed to threaten most was from Scotland. My father,\nwho had made himself master of the arguments on both sides, used to be\noften saying he feared there was some about the king who exasperated\nhim too much against the Scots, and drove things too high. For my\npart, I confess I did not much trouble my head with the cause; but all\nmy fear was they would not fall out, and we should have no fighting.\nI have often reflected since, that I ought to have known better, that\nhad seen how the most flourishing provinces of Germany were reduced to\nthe most miserable condition that ever any country in the world was,\nby the ravagings of soldiers, and the calamities of war.\nHow much soever I was to blame, yet so it was, I had a secret joy\nat the news of the king's raising an army, and nothing could have\nwithheld me from appearing in it; but my eagerness was anticipated\nby an express the king sent to my father, to know if his son was in\nEngland; and my father having ordered me to carry the answer myself, I\nwaited upon his Majesty with the messenger. The king received me with\nhis usual kindness, and asked me if I was willing to serve him against\nthe Scots?\nI answered, I was ready to serve him against any that his Majesty\nthought fit to account his enemies, and should count it an honour to\nreceive his commands. Hereupon his Majesty offered me a commission. I\ntold him, I supposed there would not be much time for raising of men;\nthat if his Majesty pleased I would be at the rendezvous with as many\ngentlemen as I could get together, to serve his Majesty as volunteers.\nThe truth is, I found all the regiments of horse the king designed to\nraise were but two as regiments; the rest of the horse were such as\nthe nobility raised in their several countries, and commanded them\nthemselves; and, as I had commanded a regiment of horse abroad, it\nlooked a little odd to serve with a single troop at home; and the king\ntook the thing presently. \"Indeed 'twill be a volunteer war,\" said the\nking, \"for the Northern gentry have sent me an account of above 4000\nhorse they have already.\" I bowed, and told his Majesty I was glad to\nhear his subjects were forward to serve him. So taking his Majesty's\norders to be at York by the end of March, I returned to my father.\nMy father was very glad I had not taken a commission, for I know not\nfrom what kind of emulation between the western and northern gentry.\nThe gentlemen of our side were not very forward in the service; their\nloyalty to the king in the succeeding times made it appear it was not\nfor any disaffection to his Majesty's interest or person, or to the\ncause; but this, however, made it difficult for me when I came home\nto get any gentlemen of quality to serve with me, so that I presented\nmyself to his Majesty only as a volunteer, with eight gentlemen and\nabout thirty-six countrymen well mounted and armed.\nAnd as it proved, these were enough, for this expedition ended in an\naccommodation with the Scots; and they not advancing so much as to\ntheir own borders, we never came to any action. But the armies lay\nin the counties of Northumberland and Durham, ate up the country,\nand spent the king a vast sum of money; and so this war ended, a\npacification was made, and both sides returned.\nThe truth is, I never saw such a despicable appearance of men in arms\nto begin a war in my life; whether it was that I had seen so many\nbraver armies abroad that prejudiced me against them, or that it\nreally was so; for to me they seemed little better than a rabble met\ntogether to devour, rather than fight for their king and country.\nThere was indeed a great appearance of gentlemen, and those of\nextraordinary quality; but their garb, their equipages, and their\nmien, did not look like war; their troops were filled with footmen\nand servants, and wretchedly armed, God wot. I believe I might say,\nwithout vanity, one regiment of Finland horse would have made sport\nat beating them all. There were such crowds of parsons (for this was\na Church war in particular) that the camp and court was full of them;\nand the king was so eternally besieged with clergymen of one sort or\nanother, that it gave offence to the chief of the nobility.\nAs was the appearance, so was the service. The army marched to the\nborders, and the headquarter was at Berwick-upon-Tweed; but the Scots\nnever appeared, no, not so much as their scouts; whereupon the king\ncalled a council of war, and there it was resolved to send the Earl of\nHolland with a party of horse into Scotland, to learn some news of the\nenemy. And truly the first news he brought us was, that finding their\narmy encamped about Coldingham, fifteen miles from Berwick, as soon as\nhe appeared, the Scots drew out a party to charge him, upon which\nmost of his men halted--I don't say run away, but 'twas next door to\nit--for they could not be persuaded to fire their pistols, and wheel\nof like soldiers, but retreated in such a disorderly and shameful\nmanner, that had the enemy but had either the courage or conduct to\nhave followed them, it must have certainly ended in the ruin of the\nwhole party.\n[Footnote 1: Upon the breach of the match between the King of England\nand the Infanta of Spain; and particularly upon the old quarrel of the\nKing of Bohemia and the Palatinate.]\nTHE SECOND PART\nI confess, when I went into arms at the beginning of this war, I never\ntroubled myself to examine sides: I was glad to hear the drums beat\nfor soldiers, as if I had been a mere Swiss, that had not cared which\nside went up or down, so I had my pay. I went as eagerly and blindly\nabout my business, as the meanest wretch that 'listed in the army; nor\nhad I the least compassionate thought for the miseries of my native\ncountry, till after the fight at Edgehill. I had known as much, and\nperhaps more than most in the army, what it was to have an enemy\nranging in the bowels of a kingdom; I had seen the most flourishing\nprovinces of Germany reduced to perfect deserts, and the voracious\nCrabats, with inhuman barbarity, quenching the fires of the plundered\nvillages with the blood of the inhabitants. Whether this had hardened\nme against the natural tenderness which I afterwards found return upon\nme, or not, I cannot tell; but I reflected upon myself afterwards with\na great deal of trouble, for the unconcernedness of my temper at the\napproaching ruin of my native country.\nI was in the first army at York, as I have already noted, and, I must\nconfess, had the least diversion there that ever I found in an army in\nmy life. For when I was in Germany with the King of Sweden, we used\nto see the king with the general officers every morning on horseback\nviewing his men, his artillery, his horses, and always something going\nforward. Here we saw nothing but courtiers and clergymen, bishops and\nparsons, as busy as if the direction of the war had been in them. The\nking was seldom seen among us, and never without some of them always\nabout him.\nThose few of us that had seen the wars, and would have made a short\nend of this for him, began to be very uneasy; and particularly a\ncertain nobleman took the freedom to tell the king that the clergy\nwould certainly ruin the expedition. The case was this: he would\nhave had the king have immediately marched into Scotland, and put the\nmatter to the trial of a battle; and he urged it every day. And the\nking finding his reasons very good, would often be of his opinion; but\nnext morning he would be of another mind.\nThis gentleman was a man of conduct enough, and of unquestioned\ncourage, and afterwards lost his life for the king. He saw we had an\narmy of young stout fellows numerous enough; and though they had not\nyet seen much service, he was for bringing them to action, that the\nScots might not have time to strengthen themselves, nor they have\ntime by idleness and sotting, the bane of soldiers, to make themselves\nunfit for anything.\nI was one morning in company with this gentleman; and as he was a warm\nman, and eager in his discourse, \"A pox of these priests,\" says he,\n\"'tis for them the king has raised this army, and put his friends to a\nvast charge; and now we are come, they won't let us fight.\"\nBut I was afterwards convinced the clergy saw further into the matter\nthan we did. They saw the Scots had a better army than we had--bold\nand ready, commanded by brave officers--and they foresaw that if we\nfought we should be beaten, and if beaten, they were undone. And 'twas\nvery true, we had all been ruined if we had engaged.\nIt is true when we came to the pacification which followed, I confess\nI was of the same mind the gentleman had been of; for we had better\nhave fought and been beaten than have made so dishonourable a treaty\nwithout striking a stroke. This pacification seems to me to have laid\nthe scheme of all the blood and confusion which followed in the Civil\nWar. For whatever the king and his friends might pretend to do by\ntalking big, the Scots saw he was to be bullied into anything, and\nthat when it came to the push the courtiers never cared to bring it to\nblows.\nI have little or nothing to say as to action in this mock expedition.\nThe king was persuaded at last to march to Berwick; and, as I have\nsaid already, a party of horse went out to learn news of the Scots,\nand as soon as they saw them, ran away from them bravely.\nThis made the Scots so insolent that, whereas before they lay encamped\nbehind a river, and never showed themselves, in a sort of modest\ndeference to their king, which was the pretence of not being\naggressors or invaders, only arming in their own defence, now, having\nbeen invaded by the English troops entering Scotland, they had what\nthey wanted. And to show it was not fear that retained them before,\nbut policy, now they came up in parties to our very gates, braving and\nfacing us every day.\nI had, with more curiosity than discretion, put myself as a volunteer\nat the head of one of our parties of horse, under my Lord Holland,\nwhen they went out to discover the enemy; they went, they said, to see\nwhat the Scots were a-doing.\nWe had not marched far, but our scouts brought word they had\ndiscovered some horse, but could not come up to them, because a river\nparted them. At the heels of these came another party of our men upon\nthe spur to us, and said the enemy was behind, which might be true for\naught we knew; but it was so far behind that nobody could see them,\nand yet the country was plain and open for above a mile before us.\nHereupon we made a halt, and, indeed, I was afraid it would have been\nan odd sort of a halt, for our men began to look one upon another,\nas they do in like cases, when they are going to break; and when the\nscouts came galloping in the men were in such disorder, that had but\none man broke away, I am satisfied they had all run for it.\nI found my Lord Holland did not perceive it; but after the first\nsurprise was a little over I told my lord what I had observed, and\nthat unless some course was immediately taken they would all run at\nthe first sight of the enemy. I found he was much concerned at it, and\nbegan to consult what course to take to prevent it. I confess 'tis a\nhard question how to make men stand and face an enemy, when fear has\npossessed their minds with an inclination to run away. But I'll give\nthat honour to the memory of that noble gentleman, who, though his\nexperience in matters of war was small, having never been in much\nservice, yet his courage made amends for it; for I daresay he would\nnot have turned his horse from an army of enemies, nor have saved his\nlife at the price of running away for it.\nMy lord soon saw, as well as I, the fright the men were in, after I\nhad given him a hint of it; and to encourage them, rode through their\nranks and spoke cheerfully to them, and used what arguments he thought\nproper to settle their minds. I remembered a saying which I heard old\nMarshal Gustavus Horn speak in Germany, \"If you find your men falter,\nor in doubt, never suffer them to halt, but keep them advancing; for\nwhile they are going forward, it keeps up their courage.\"\nAs soon as I could get opportunity to speak to him, I gave him this\nas my opinion. \"That's very well,\" says my lord, \"but I am studying,\"\nsays he, \"to post them so as that they can't run if they would; and if\nthey stand but once to face the enemy, I don't fear them afterwards.\"\nWhile we were discoursing thus, word was brought that several parties\nof the enemies were seen on the farther side of the river, upon which\nmy lord gave the word to march; and as we were marching on, my lord\ncalls out a lieutenant who had been an old soldier, with only five\ntroopers whom he had most confidence in, and having given him his\nlesson, he sends him away. In a quarter of an hour one of the\nfive troopers comes back galloping and hallooing, and tells us his\nlieutenant had, with his small party, beaten a party of twenty of the\nenemy's horse over the river, and had secured the pass, and desired my\nlord would march up to him immediately.\nTis a strange thing that men's spirits should be subjected to such\nsudden changes, and capable of so much alteration from shadows of\nthings. They were for running before they saw the enemy, now they are\nin haste to be led on, and but that in raw men we are obliged to bear\nwith anything, the disorder in both was intolerable.\nThe story was a premeditated sham, and not a word of truth in it,\ninvented to raise their spirits, and cheat them out of their cowardly\nphlegmatic apprehensions, and my lord had his end in it; for they\nwere all on fire to fall on. And I am persuaded, had they been led\nimmediately into a battle begun to their hands, they would have laid\nabout them like furies; for there is nothing like victory to flush a\nyoung soldier. Thus, while the humour was high, and the fermentation\nlasted, away we marched, and, passing one of their great commons,\nwhich they call moors, we came to the river, as he called it, where\nour lieutenant was posted with his four men; 'twas a little brook\nfordable with ease, and, leaving a guard at the pass, we advanced to\nthe top of a small ascent, from whence we had a fair view of the Scots\narmy, as they lay behind another river larger than the former.\nOur men were posted well enough, behind a small enclosure, with a\nnarrow lane in their front. And my lord had caused his dragoons to be\nplaced in the front to line the hedges; and in this posture he stood\nviewing the enemy at a distance. The Scots, who had some intelligence\nof our coming, drew out three small parties, and sent them by\ndifferent ways to observe our number; and, forming a fourth party,\nwhich I guessed to be about 600 horse, advanced to the top of the\nplain, and drew up to face us, but never offered to attack us.\nOne of the small parties, making about 100 men, one third foot,\npasses upon our flank in view, but out of reach; and, as they marched,\nshouted at us, which our men, better pleased with that work than with\nfighting, readily enough answered, and would fain have fired at them\nfor the pleasure of making a noise, for they were too far off to hit\nthem.\nI observed that these parties had always some foot with them; and yet\nif the horse galloped, or pushed on ever so forward, the foot were as\nforward as they, which was an extraordinary advantage.\nGustavus Adolphus, that king of soldiers, was the first that I have\never observed found the advantage of mixing small bodies of musketeers\namong his horse; and, had he had such nimble strong fellows as these,\nhe would have prized them above all the rest of his men. These were\nthose they call Highlanders. They would run on foot with their arms\nand all their accoutrements, and keep very good order too, and yet\nkeep pace with the horse, let them go at what rate they would. When I\nsaw the foot thus interlined among the horse, together with the way of\nordering their flying parties, it presently occurred to my mind that\nhere was some of our old Scots come home out of Germany that had the\nordering of matters, and if so, I knew we were not a match for them.\nThus we stood facing the enemy till our scouts brought us word the\nwhole Scots army was in motion, and in full march to attack us; and,\nthough it was not true, and the fear of our men doubled every object,\nyet 'twas thought convenient to make our retreat. The whole matter was\nthat the scouts having informed them what they could of our strength,\nthe 600 were ordered to march towards us, and three regiments of foot\nwere drawn out to support the horse.\nI know not whether they would have ventured to attack us, at least\nbefore their foot had come up; but whether they would have put it to\nthe hazard or no, we were resolved not to hazard the trial, so we\ndrew down to the pass. And, as retreating looks something like running\naway, especially when an enemy is at hand, our men had much ado to\nmake their retreat pass for a march, and not a flight; and, by their\noften looking behind them, anybody might know what they would have\ndone if they had been pressed.\nI confess, I was heartily ashamed when the Scots, coming up to the\nplace where we had been posted, stood and shouted at us. I would have\npersuaded my lord to have charged them, and he would have done it with\nall his heart, but he saw it was not practicable; so we stood at gaze\nwith them above two hours, by which time their foot were come up to\nthem, and yet they did not offer to attack us. I never was so ashamed\nof myself in my life; we were all dispirited. The Scots gentlemen\nwould come out single, within shot of our post, which in a time of war\nis always accounted a challenge to any single gentleman, to come out\nand exchange a pistol with them, and nobody would stir; at last our\nold lieutenant rides out to meet a Scotchman that came pickeering on\nhis quarter. This lieutenant was a brave and a strong fellow, had been\na soldier in the Low Countries; and though he was not of any quality,\nonly a mere soldier, had his preferment for his conduct. He gallops\nbravely up to his adversary, and exchanging their pistols, the\nlieutenant's horse happened to be killed. The Scotchman very\ngenerously dismounts, and engages him with his sword, and fairly\nmasters him, and carries him away prisoner; and I think this horse was\nall the blood was shed in that war.\nThe lieutenant's name thus conquered was English, and as he was a very\nstout old soldier, the disgrace of it broke his heart. The Scotchman,\nindeed, used him very generously; for he treated him in the camp very\ncourteously, gave him another horse, and set him at liberty, gratis.\nBut the man laid it so to heart, that he never would appear in the\narmy, but went home to his own country and died.\nI had enough of party-making, and was quite sick with indignation at\nthe cowardice of the men; and my lord was in as great a fret as I, but\nthere was no remedy. We durst not go about to retreat, for we should\nhave been in such confusion that the enemy must have discovered it; so\nmy lord resolved to keep the post, if possible, and send to the king\nfor some foot. Then were our men ready to fight with one another who\nshould be the messenger; and at last when a lieutenant with twenty\ndragoons was despatched, he told us afterwards he found himself an\nhundred strong before he was gotten a mile from the place.\nIn short, as soon as ever the day declined, and the dusk of the\nevening began to shelter the designs of the men, they dropped away\nfrom us one by one; and at last in such numbers, that if we had stayed\ntill the morning, we had not had fifty men left; out of 1200 horse and\ndragoons.\nWhen I saw how it was, consulting with some of the officers, we all\nwent to my Lord Holland, and pressed him to retreat, before the enemy\nshould discern the flight of our men; so he drew us off, and we came\nto the camp the next morning, in the shamefullest condition that ever\npoor men could do. And this was the end of the worst expedition ever I\nmade in my life.\nTo fight and be beaten is a casualty common to a soldier, and I have\nsince had enough of it; but to run away at the sight of an enemy,\nand neither strike or be stricken, this is the very shame of the\nprofession, and no man that has done it ought to show his face\nagain in the field, unless disadvantages of place or number make it\ntolerable, neither of which was our case.\nMy Lord Holland made another march a few days after, in hopes to\nretrieve this miscarriage; but I had enough of it, so I kept in my\nquarters. And though his men did not desert him as before, yet upon\nthe appearance of the enemy they did not think fit to fight, and came\noff with but little more honour than they did before.\nThere was no need to go out to seek the enemy after this, for they\ncame, as I have noted, and pitched in sight of us, and their parties\ncame up every day to the very out-works of Berwick, but nobody\ncared to meddle with them. And in this posture things stood when the\npacification was agreed on by both parties, which, like a short truce,\nonly gave both sides breath to prepare for a new war more ridiculously\nmanaged than the former. When the treaty was so near a conclusion\nas that conversation was admitted on both sides, I went over to the\nScotch camp to satisfy my curiosity, as many of our English officers\ndid also.\nI confess the soldiers made a very uncouth figure, especially the\nHighlanders. The oddness and barbarity of their garb and arms seemed\nto have something in it remarkable.\nThey were generally tall swinging fellows; their swords were\nextravagantly, and, I think, insignificantly broad, and they carried\ngreat wooden targets, large enough to cover the upper part of their\nbodies. Their dress was as antique as the rest; a cap on their heads,\ncalled by them a bonnet, long hanging sleeves behind, and their\ndoublet, breeches, and stockings of a stuff they called plaid, striped\nacross red and yellow, with short cloaks of the same. These fellows\nlooked, when drawn out, like a regiment of merry-andrews, ready for\nBartholomew Fair. They are in companies all of a name, and therefore\ncall one another only by their Christian names, as Jemmy, Jocky, that\nis, John, and Sawny, that is, Alexander, and the like. And they scorn\nto be commanded but by one of their own clan or family. They are all\ngentlemen, and proud enough to be kings. The meanest fellow among them\nis as tenacious of his honour as the best nobleman in the country,\nand they will fight and cut one another's throats for every trifling\naffront.\nBut to their own clans or lairds, they are the willingest and most\nobedient fellows in nature. Give them their due, were their skill in\nexercises and discipline proportioned to their courage, they would\nmake the bravest soldiers in the world. They are large bodies, and\nprodigiously strong; and two qualities they have above other nations,\nviz., hardy to endure hunger, cold, and hardships, and wonderfully\nswift of foot. The latter is such an advantage in the field that I\nknow none like it; for if they conquer, no enemy can escape them, and\nif they run, even the horse can hardly overtake them. These were some\nof them, who, as I observed before, went out in parties with their\nhorse.\nThere were three or four thousand of these in the Scots army, armed\nonly with swords and targets; and in their belts some of them had a\npistol, but no muskets at that time among them.\nBut there were also a great many regiments of disciplined men, who,\nby their carrying their arms, looked as if they understood their\nbusiness, and by their faces, that they durst see an enemy.\nI had not been half-an-hour in their camp after the ceremony of giving\nour names, and passing their out-guards and main-guard was over, but\nI was saluted by several of my acquaintance; and in particular, by one\nwho led the Scotch volunteers at the taking the castle of Oppenheim,\nof which I have given an account. They used me with all the respect\nthey thought due to me, on account of old affairs, gave me the word,\nand a sergeant waited upon me whenever I pleased to go abroad.\nI continued twelve or fourteen days among them, till the pacification\nwas concluded; and they were ordered to march home. They spoke very\nrespectfully of the king, but I found were exasperated to the last\ndegree at Archbishop Laud and the English bishops, for endeavouring to\nimpose the Common Prayer Book upon them; and they always talked with\nthe utmost contempt of our soldiers and army. I always waived the\ndiscourse about the clergy, and the occasion of the war, but I could\nnot but be too sensible what they said of our men was true; and by\nthis I perceived they had an universal intelligence from among us,\nboth of what we were doing, and what sort of people we were that were\ndoing it; and they were mighty desirous of coming to blows with us. I\nhad an invitation from their general, but I declined it, lest I should\ngive offence. I found they accepted the pacification as a thing not\nlikely to hold, or that they did not design should hold; and that\nthey were resolved to keep their forces on foot, notwithstanding the\nagreement. Their whole army was full of brave officers, men of as\nmuch experience and conduct as any in the world; and all men who know\nanything of the war, know good officers presently make a good army.\nThings being thus huddled up, the English came back to York, where\nthe army separated, and the Scots went home to increase theirs; for I\neasily foresaw that peace was the farthest thing from their thoughts.\nThe next year the flame broke out again. The king draws his forces\ndown into the north, as before, and expresses were sent to all the\ngentlemen that had commands to be at the place by the 15th of July. As\nI had accepted of no command in the army, so I had no inclination at\nall to go, for I foresaw there would be nothing but disgrace attend\nit. My father, observing such an alteration in my usual forwardness,\nasked me one day what was the matter, that I who used to be so forward\nto go into the army, and so eager to run abroad to fight, now showed\nno inclination to appear when the service of the king and country\ncalled me to it? I told him I had as much zeal as ever for the king's\nservice, and for the country too: but he knew a soldier could not\nabide to be beaten; and being from thence a little more inquisitive, I\ntold him the observations I had made in the Scots army, and the people\nI had conversed with there. \"And, sir,\" says I, \"assure yourself, if\nthe king offers to fight them, he will be beaten; and I don't love to\nengage when my judgment tells me beforehand I shall be worsted.\"\nAnd as I had foreseen, it came to pass; for the Scots resolving to\nproceed, never stood upon the ceremony of aggression, as before, but\non the 20th of August they entered England with their army.\nHowever, as my father desired, I went to the king's army, which was\nthen at York, but not gotten all together. The king himself was at\nLondon, but upon this news takes post for the army, and advancing a\npart of his forces, he posted the Lord Conway and Sir Jacob Astley,\nwith a brigade of foot and some horse, at Newburn, upon the river\nTyne, to keep the Scots from passing that river.\nThe Scots could have passed the Tyne without fighting; but to let us\nsee that they were able to force their passage, they fall upon his\nbody of men and notwithstanding all the advantages of the place, they\nbeat them from the post, took their baggage and two pieces of cannon,\nwith some prisoners. Sir Jacob Astley made what resistance he could,\nbut the Scots charged with so much fury, and being also overpowered,\nhe was soon put into confusion. Immediately the Scots made themselves\nmasters of Newcastle, and the next day of Durham, and laid those two\ncounties under intolerable contributions.\nNow was the king absolutely ruined; for among his own people the\ndiscontents before were so plain, that had the clergy had any\nforecast, they would never have embroiled him with the Scots, till he\nhad fully brought matters to an understanding at home. But the\ncase was thus: the king, by the good husbandry of Bishop Juxon, his\ntreasurer, had a million of ready money in his treasury, and upon that\naccount, having no need of a Parliament, had not called one in twelve\nyears; and perhaps had never called another, if he had not by this\nunhappy circumstance been reduced to a necessity of it; for now\nthis ready money was spent in two foolish expeditions, and his army\nappeared in a condition not fit to engage the Scots. The detachment\nunder Sir Jacob Astley, which were of the flower of his men, had\nbeen routed at Newburn, and the enemy had possession of two entire\ncounties.\nAll men blamed Laud for prompting the king to provoke the Scots, a\nheadstrong nation, and zealous for their own way of worship; and Laud\nhimself found too late the consequences of it, both to the whole cause\nand to himself; for the Scots, whose native temper is not easily to\nforgive an injury, pursued him by their party in England, and never\ngave it over till they laid his head on the block.\nThe ruined country now clamoured in his Majesty's ears with daily\npetitions, and the gentry of other neighbouring counties cry out for\npeace and Parliament. The king, embarrassed with these difficulties,\nand quite empty of money, calls a great council of the nobility at\nYork, and demands their advice, which any one could have told him\nbefore would be to call a Parliament.\nI cannot, without regret, look back upon the misfortune of the king,\nwho, as he was one of the best princes in his personal conduct that\never reigned in England, had yet some of the greatest unhappinesses in\nhis conduct as a king, that ever prince had, and the whole course of\nhis life demonstrated it.\n1. An impolitic honesty. His enemies called it obstinacy; but as I was\nperfectly acquainted with his temper, I cannot but think it was his\njudgment, when he thought he was in the right, to adhere to it as a\nduty though against his interest.\n2. Too much compliance when he was complying. No man but himself would\nhave denied what at some times he denied, and have granted what at\nother times he granted; and this uncertainty of counsel proceeded from\ntwo things.\n1. The heat of the clergy, to whom he was exceedingly devoted, and for\nwhom, indeed, he ruined himself.\n2. The wisdom of his nobility.\nThus when the counsel of his priests prevailed, all was fire and\nfury; the Scots were rebels, and must be subdued, and the Parliament's\ndemands were to be rejected as exorbitant. But whenever the king's\njudgment was led by the grave and steady advice of his nobility and\ncounsellors, he was always inclined by them to temperate his measures\nbetween the two extremes. And had he gone on in such a temper, he had\nnever met with the misfortunes which afterward attended him, or had\nso many thousands of his friends lost their lives and fortunes in his\nservice.\nI am sure we that knew what it was to fight for him, and that loved\nhim better than any of the clergy could pretend to, have had many\na consultation how to bring over our master from so espousing their\ninterest, as to ruin himself for it; but 'twas in vain.\nI took this interval when I sat still and only looked on, to make\nthese remarks, because I remember the best friends the king had were\nat this time of that opinion, that 'twas an unaccountable piece\nof indiscretion, to commence a quarrel with the Scots, a poor and\nobstinate people, for a ceremony and book of Church discipline, at a\ntime when the king stood but upon indifferent terms with his people at\nhome.\nThe consequence was, it put arms into the hands of his subjects to\nrebel against him; it embroiled him with his Parliament in England, to\nwhom he was fain to stoop in a fatal and unusual manner to get money,\nall his own being spent, and so to buy off the Scots whom he could not\nbeat off.\nI cannot but give one instance of the unaccountable politics of his\nministers. If they overruled this unhappy king to it, with design to\nexhaust and impoverish him, they were the worst of traitors; if not,\nthe grossest of fools. They prompted the king to equip a fleet against\nthe Scots, and to put on board it 5000 land men. Had this been all,\nthe design had been good, that while the king had faced the army upon\nthe borders, these 5000, landing in the Firth of Edinburgh, might\nhave put that whole nation into disorder. But in order to this, they\nadvised the king to lay out his money in fitting out the biggest ships\nhe had, and the \"Royal Sovereign,\" the biggest ship the world had ever\nseen, which cost him no less than \u00a3100,000, was now built, and fitted\nout for this voyage.\nThis was the most incongruous and ridiculous advice that could be\ngiven, and made us all believe we were betrayed, though we knew not by\nwhom.\nTo fit out ships of 100 guns to invade Scotland, which had not one\nman-of-war in the world, nor any open confederacy with any prince or\nstate that had any fleet, 'twas a most ridiculous thing. An hundred\nsail of Newcastle colliers, to carry the men with their stores and\nprovisions, and ten frigates of 40 guns each, had been as good a fleet\nas reason and the nature of the thing could have made tolerable.\nThus things were carried on, till the king, beggared by the\nmismanagement of his counsels, and beaten by the Scots, was driven to\nthe necessity of calling a Parliament in England.\nIt is not my design to enter into the feuds and brangles of this\nParliament. I have noted, by observations of their mistakes, who\nbrought the king to this happy necessity of calling them.\nHis Majesty had tried Parliaments upon several occasions before, but\nnever found himself so much embroiled with them but he could send them\nhome, and there was an end of it; but as he could not avoid calling\nthese, so they took care to put him out of a condition to dismiss\nthem.\nThe Scots army was now quartered upon the English. The counties,\nthe gentry, and the assembly of lords at York, petitioned for a\nParliament.\nThe Scots presented their demands to the king, in which it was\nobserved that matters were concerted between them and a party in\nEngland; and I confess when I saw that, I began to think the king in\nan ill case; for as the Scots pretended grievances, we thought,\nthe king redressing those grievances, they could ask no more; and\ntherefore all men advised the king to grant their full demands. And\nwhereas the king had not money to supply the Scots in their march\nhome, I know there were several meetings of gentlemen with a design to\nadvance considerable sums of money to the king to set him free, and\nin order to reinstate his Majesty, as before. Not that we ever advised\nthe king to rule without a Parliament, but we were very desirous of\nputting him out of the necessity of calling them, at least just then.\nBut the eighth article of the Scots' demands expressly required, that\nan English Parliament might be called to remove all obstructions of\ncommerce, and to settle peace, religion, and liberty; and in another\narticle they tell the king, the 24th of September being the time his\nMajesty appointed for the meeting of the peers, will make it too long\nere the Parliament meet. And in another, that a Parliament was the\nonly way of settling peace, and bring them to his Majesty's obedience.\nWhen we saw this in the army, 'twas time to look about. Everybody\nperceived that the Scots army would call an English Parliament; and\nwhatever aversion the king had to it, we all saw he would be obliged\nto comply with it; and now they all began to see their error, who\nadvised the king to this Scotch war.\nWhile these things were transacting, the assembly of the peers meet at\nYork, and by their advice a treaty was begun with the Scots. I had the\nhonour to be sent with the first message which was in writing.\nI brought it, attended by a trumpet and a guard of 500 horse, to\nthe Scots quarters. I was stopped at Darlington, and my errand being\nknown, General Leslie sent a Scots major and fifty horses to receive\nme, but would let neither my trumpet or guard set foot within\ntheir quarters. In this manner I was conducted to audience in the\nchapter-house at Durham, where a committee of Scots lords who attended\nthe army received me very courteously, and gave me their answer in\nwriting also.\n'Twas in this answer that they showed, at least to me, their design\nof embroiling the king with his English subjects; they discoursed very\nfreely with me, and did not order me to withdraw when they debated\ntheir private opinions. They drew up several answers but did not like\nthem; at last they gave me one which I did not receive, I thought it\nwas too insolent to be borne with. As near as I can remember it was\nthus: The commissioners of Scotland attending the service in the army,\ndo refuse any treaty in the city of York.\nOne of the commissioners who treated me with more distinction than the\nrest, and discoursed freely with me, gave me an opportunity to speak\nmore freely of this than I expected.\nI told them if they would return to his Majesty an answer fit for me\nto carry, or if they would say they would not treat at all, I would\ndeliver such a message. But I entreated them to consider the answer\nwas to their sovereign, and to whom they made a great profession of\nduty and respect, and at least they ought to give their reasons why\nthey declined a treaty at York, and to name some other place, or\nhumbly to desire his Majesty to name some other place; but to send\nword they would not treat at York, I could deliver no such message,\nfor when put into English it would signify they would not treat at\nall.\nI used a great many reasons and arguments with them on this head,\nand at last with some difficulty obtained of them to give the reason,\nwhich was the Earl of Strafford's having the chief command at York,\nwhom they declared their mortal enemy, he having declared them rebels\nin Ireland.\nWith this answer I returned. I could make no observations in the short\ntime I was with them, for as I stayed but one night, so I was guarded\nas a close prisoner all the while. I saw several of their officers\nwhom I knew, but they durst not speak to me, and if they would have\nventured, my guard would not have permitted them.\nIn this manner I was conducted out of their quarters to my own party\nagain, and having delivered my message to the king and told his\nMajesty the circumstances, I saw the king receive the account of the\nhaughty behaviour of the Scots with some regret; however, it was his\nMajesty's time now to bear, and therefore the Scots were complied\nwith, and the treaty appointed at Ripon; where, after much debate,\nseveral preliminary articles were agreed on, as a cessation of arms,\nquarters, and bounds to the armies, subsistence to the Scots army, and\nthe residue of the demands was referred to a treaty at London, &c.\nWe were all amazed at the treaty, and I cannot but remember we used to\nwish much rather we had been suffered to fight; for though we had been\nworsted at first, the power and strength of the king's interest, which\nwas not yet tried, must, in fine, have been too strong for the Scots,\nwhereas now we saw the king was for complying with anything, and all\nhis friends would be ruined.\nI confess I had nothing to fear, and so was not much concerned, but\nour predictions soon came to pass, for no sooner was this Parliament\ncalled but abundance of those who had embroiled their king with his\npeople of both kingdoms, like the disciples when their Master was\nbetrayed to the Jews, forsook him and fled; and now Parliament tyranny\nbegan to succeed Church tyranny, and we soldiers were glad to see it\nat first. The bishops trembled, the judges went to gaol, the officers\nof the customs were laid hold on; and the Parliament began to lay\ntheir fingers on the great ones, particularly Archbishop Laud and the\nEarl of Strafford. We had no great concern for the first, but the\nlast was a man of so much conduct and gallantry, and so beloved by the\nsoldiers and principal gentry of England, that everybody was touched\nwith his misfortune.\nThe Parliament now grew mad in their turn, and as the prosperity of\nany party is the time to show their discretion, the Parliament showed\nthey knew as little where to stop as other people. The king was not in\na condition to deny anything, and nothing could be demanded but they\npushed it. They attainted the Earl of Strafford, and thereby made\nthe king cut off his right hand to save his left, and yet not save\nit neither. They obtained another bill to empower them to sit during\ntheir own pleasure, and after them, triennial Parliaments to meet,\nwhether the king call them or no; and granting this completed his\nMajesty's ruin.\nHad the House only regulated the abuses of the court, punished evil\ncounsellors, and restored Parliaments to their original and just\npowers, all had been well, and the king, though he had been more than\nmortified, had yet reaped the benefit of future peace; for now\nthe Scots were sent home, after having eaten up two counties, and\nreceived a prodigious sum of money to boot. And the king, though too\nlate, goes in person to Edinburgh, and grants them all they could\ndesire, and more than they asked; but in England, the desires of ours\nwere unbounded, and drove at all extremes.\nThey drew out the bishops from sitting in the House, made a\nprotestation equivalent to the Scotch Covenant, and this done, print\ntheir remonstrance. This so provoked the king, that he resolves upon\nseizing some of the members, and in an ill hour enters the House in\nperson to take them. Thus one imprudent thing on one hand produced\nanother of the other hand, till the king was obliged to leave them to\nthemselves, for fear of being mobbed into something or other unworthy\nof himself.\nThese proceedings began to alarm the gentry and nobility of England;\nfor, however willing we were to have evil counsellors removed, and\nthe government return to a settled and legal course, according to the\nhappy constitution of this nation, and might have been forward enough\nto have owned the king had been misled, and imposed upon to do things\nwhich he had rather had not been done, yet it did not follow, that\nall the powers and prerogatives of the crown should devolve upon the\nParliament, and the king in a manner be deposed, or else sacrificed to\nthe fury of the rabble.\nThe heats of the House running them thus to all extremes, and at last\nto take from the king the power of the militia, which indeed was\nall that was left to make him anything of a king, put the king upon\nopposing force with force; and thus the flame of civil war began.\nHowever backward I was in engaging in the second year's expedition\nagainst the Scots, I was as forward now, for I waited on the king\nat York, where a gallant company of gentlemen as ever were seen in\nEngland, engaged themselves to enter into his service; and here some\nof us formed ourselves into troops for the guard of his person.\nThe king having been waited upon by the gentry of Yorkshire, and\nhaving told them his resolution of erecting his royal standard, and\nreceived from them hearty assurances of support, dismisses them, and\nmarches to Hull, where lay the train of artillery, and all the\narms and ammunition belonging to the northern army which had been\ndisbanded. But here the Parliament had been beforehand with his\nMajesty, so that when he came to Hull, he found the gates shut, and\nSir John Hotham, the governor, upon the walls, though with a great\ndeal of seeming humility and protestations of loyalty to his person,\nyet with a positive denial to admit any of the king's attendants into\nthe town. If his Majesty pleased to enter the town in person with any\nreasonable number of his household, he would submit, but would not\nbe prevailed on to receive the king as he would be received, with his\nforces, though those forces were then but very few.\nThe king was exceedingly provoked at this repulse, and indeed it was\na great surprise to us all, for certainly never prince began a war\nagainst the whole strength of his kingdom under the circumstances that\nhe was in. He had not a garrison, or a company of soldiers in his\npay, not a stand of arms, or a barrel of powder, a musket, cannon\nor mortar, not a ship of all the fleet, or money in his treasury to\nprocure them; whereas the Parliament had all his navy, and ordnance,\nstores, magazines, arms, ammunition, and revenue in their keeping.\nAnd this I take to be another defect of the king's counsel, and a sad\ninstance of the distraction of his affairs, that when he saw how all\nthings were going to wreck, as it was impossible but he should see it,\nand 'tis plain he did see it, that he should not long enough before it\ncame to extremities secure the navy, magazines, and stores of war, in\nthe hands of his trusty servants, that would have been sure to have\npreserved them for his use, at a time when he wanted them.\nIt cannot be supposed but the gentry of England, who generally\npreserved their loyalty for their royal master, and at last heartily\nshowed it, were exceedingly discouraged at first when they saw the\nParliament had all the means of making war in their own hands, and the\nking was naked and destitute either of arms or ammunition, or money\nto procure them. Not but that the king, by extraordinary application,\nrecovered the disorder the want of these things had thrown him into,\nand supplied himself with all things needful.\nBut my observation was this, had his Majesty had the magazines, navy,\nand forts in his own hand, the gentry, who wanted but the prospect of\nsomething to encourage them, had come in at first, and the Parliament,\nbeing unprovided, would have been presently reduced to reason. But\nthis was it that balked the gentry of Yorkshire, who went home again,\ngiving the king good promises, but never appeared for him, till\nby raising a good army in Shropshire and Wales, he marched towards\nLondon, and they saw there was a prospect of their being supported.\nIn this condition the king erected his standard at Nottingham, 22nd\nAugust 1642, and I confess, I had very melancholy apprehensions of\nthe king's affairs, for the appearance to the royal standard was\nbut small. The affront the king had met with at Hull, had balked and\ndispirited the northern gentry, and the king's affairs looked with\na very dismal aspect. We had expresses from London of the prodigious\nsuccess of the Parliament levies, how their men came in faster than\nthey could entertain them, and that arms were delivered out to whole\ncompanies listed together, and the like. And all this while the\nking had not got together a thousand foot, and had no arms for them\nneither. When the king saw this, he immediately despatches five\nseveral messengers, whereof one went to the Marquis of Worcester into\nWales; one went to the queen, then at Windsor; one to the Duke\nof Newcastle, then Marquis of Newcastle, into the north; one into\nScotland; and one into France, where the queen soon after arrived to\nraise money, and buy arms, and to get what assistance she could among\nher own friends. Nor was her Majesty idle, for she sent over several\nships laden with arms and ammunition, with a fine train of artillery,\nand a great many very good officers; and though one of the first fell\ninto the hands of the Parliament, with three hundred barrels of powder\nand some arms, and one hundred and fifty gentlemen, yet most of the\ngentlemen found means, one way or other, to get to us, and most of\nthe ships the queen freighted arrived; and at last her Majesty came\nherself, and brought an extraordinary supply both of men, money,\narms, &c., with which she joined the king's forces under the Earl of\nNewcastle in the north.\nFinding his Majesty thus bestirring himself to muster his friends\ntogether, I asked him if he thought it might not be for his Majesty's\nservice to let me go among my friends, and his loyal subjects about\nShrewsbury? \"Yes,\" says the king, smiling, \"I intend you shall, and\nI design to go with you myself.\" I did not understand what the king\nmeant then, and did not think it good manners to inquire, but the next\nday I found all things disposed for a march, and the king on horseback\nby eight of the clock; when calling me to him, he told me I should\ngo before, and let my father and all my friends know he would be at\nShrewsbury the Saturday following. I left my equipages, and taking\npost with only one servant, was at my father's the next morning by\nbreak of day. My father was not surprised at the news of the king's\ncoming at all, for, it seems, he, together with the royal gentry of\nthose parts, had sent particularly to give the king an invitation to\nmove that way, which I was not made privy to, with an account what\nencouragement they had there in the endeavours made for his interest.\nIn short, the whole country was entirely for the king, and such was\nthe universal joy the people showed when the news of his Majesty's\ncoming down was positively known, that all manner of business was laid\naside, and the whole body of the people seemed to be resolved upon the\nwar.\nAs this gave a new face to the king's affairs, so I must own it filled\nme with joy; for I was astonished before, when I considered what\nthe king and his friends were like to be exposed to. The news of the\nproceedings of the Parliament, and their powerful preparations, were\nnow no more terrible; the king came at the time appointed, and\nhaving lain at my father's house one night, entered Shrewsbury in the\nmorning. The acclamations of the people, the concourse of the nobility\nand gentry about his person, and the crowds which now came every day\ninto the standard, were incredible.\nThe loyalty of the English gentry was not only worth notice, but the\npower of the gentry is extraordinary visible in this matter. The\nking, in about six weeks' time, which was the most of his stay at\nShrewsbury, was supplied with money, arms, ammunition, and a train of\nartillery, and listed a body of an army upwards of 20,000 men.\nHis Majesty seeing the general alacrity of his people, immediately\nissued out commissions, and formed regiments of horse and foot;\nand having some experienced officers about him, together with about\nsixteen who came from France, with a ship loaded with arms and some\nfield-pieces which came very seasonably into the Severn, the men were\nexercised, regularly disciplined, and quartered, and now we began to\nlook like soldiers. My father had raised a regiment of horse at his\nown charge, and completed them, and the king gave out arms to them\nfrom the supplies which I mentioned came from abroad. Another party\nof horse, all brave stout fellows, and well mounted, came in from\nLancashire, and the Earl of Derby at the head of them. The Welshmen\ncame in by droves; and so great was the concourse of people, that the\nking began to think of marching, and gave the command, as well as the\ntrust of regulating the army, to the brave Earl of Lindsey, as general\nof the foot. The Parliament general being the Earl of Essex, two\nbraver men, or two better officers, were not in the kingdom; they had\nboth been old soldiers, and had served together as volunteers in the\nLow Country wars, under Prince Maurice. They had been comrades and\ncompanions abroad, and now came to face one another as enemies in the\nfield.\nSuch was the expedition used by the king and his friends, in the\nlevies of this first army, that notwithstanding the wonderful\nexpedition the Parliament made, the king was in the field before them;\nand now the gentry in other parts of the nation bestirred themselves,\nand seized upon, and garrisoned several considerable places, for the\nking. In the north, the Earl of Newcastle not only garrisoned the most\nconsiderable places, but even the general possession of the north was\nfor the king, excepting Hull, and some few places, which the old Lord\nFairfax had taken up for the Parliament. On the other hand, entire\nCornwall and most of the western counties were the king's. The\nParliament had their chief interest in the south and eastern part\nof England, as Kent, Surrey, and, Sussex, Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk,\nCambridge, Bedford, Huntingdon, Hertford, Buckinghamshire, and the\nother midland counties. These were called, or some of them at least,\nthe associated counties, and felt little of the war, other than\nthe charges; but the main support of the Parliament was the city of\nLondon.\nThe king made the seat of his court at Oxford, which he caused to be\nregularly fortified. The Lord Say had been here, and had possession of\nthe city for the enemy, and was debating about fortifying it, but\ncame to no resolution, which was a very great over-sight in them; the\nsituation of the place, and the importance of it, on many accounts,\nto the city of London, considered; and they would have retrieved this\nerror afterwards, but then 'twas too late; for the king made it the\nheadquarter, and received great supplies and assistance from the\nwealth of the colleges, and the plenty of the neighbouring country.\nAbingdon, Wallingford, Basing, and Reading, were all garrisoned and\nfortified as outworks to defend this as the centre. And thus all\nEngland became the theatre of blood, and war was spread into every\ncorner of the country, though as yet there was no stroke struck. I had\nno command in this army. My father led his own regiment, and, old as\nhe was, would not leave his royal master, and my elder brother stayed\nat home to support the family. As for me, I rode a volunteer in the\nroyal troop of guards, which may very well deserve the title of a\nroyal troop, for it was composed of young gentlemen, sons of the\nnobility, and some of the prime gentry of the nation, and I think not\na person of so mean a birth or fortune as myself. We reckoned in this\ntroop two and thirty lords, or who came afterwards to be such,\nand eight and thirty of younger sons of the nobility, five French\nnoblemen, and all the rest gentlemen of very good families and\nestates.\nAnd that I may give the due to their personal valour, many of this\ntroop lived afterwards to have regiments and troops under their\ncommand in the service of the king, many of them lost their lives for\nhim, and most of them their estates. Nor did they behave unworthy of\nthemselves in their first showing their faces to the enemy, as shall\nbe mentioned in its place.\nWhile the king remained at Shrewsbury, his loyal friends bestirred\nthemselves in several parts of the kingdom. Goring had secured\nPortsmouth, but being young in matters of war, and not in time\nrelieved, though the Marquis of Hertford was marching to relieve him,\nyet he was obliged to quit the place, and shipped himself for Holland,\nfrom whence he returned with relief for the king, and afterwards\ndid very good service upon all occasions, and so effectually cleared\nhimself of the scandal the hasty surrender of Portsmouth had brought\nupon his courage.\nThe chief power of the king's forces lay in three places, in Cornwall,\nin Yorkshire, and at Shrewsbury. In Cornwall, Sir Ralph Hopton,\nafterwards Lord Hopton, Sir Bevil Grenvile, and Sir Nicholas Slanning\nsecured all the country, and afterwards spread themselves over\nDevonshire and Somersetshire, took Exeter from the Parliament,\nfortified Bridgewater and Barnstaple, and beat Sir William Waller at\nthe battle of Roundway Down, as I shall touch at more particularly\nwhen I come to recite the part of my own travels that way.\nIn the north, The Marquis of Newcastle secured all the country,\ngarrisoned York, Scarborough, Carlisle, Newcastle, Pomfret, Leeds, and\nall the considerable places, and took the field with a very good army,\nthough afterwards he proved more unsuccessful than the rest, having\nthe whole power of a kingdom at his back, the Scots coming in with\nan army to the assistance of the Parliament, which, indeed, was the\ngeneral turn of the scale of the war; for had it not been for this\nScots army, the king had most certainly reduced the Parliament, at\nleast to good terms of peace, in two years' time.\nThe king was the third article. His force at Shrewsbury I have noted\nalready. The alacrity of the gentry filled him with hopes, and all his\narmy with vigour, and the 8th of October 1642, his Majesty gave orders\nto march. The Earl of Essex had spent above a month after his leaving\nLondon (for he went thence the 9th of September) in modelling and\ndrawing together his forces; his rendezvous was at St Albans, from\nwhence he marched to Northampton, Coventry, and Warwick, and leaving\ngarrisons in them, he comes on to Worcester. Being thus advanced, he\npossesses Oxford, as I noted before, Banbury, Bristol, Gloucester, and\nWorcester, out of all which places, except Gloucester, we drove him\nback to London in a very little while.\nSir John Byron had raised a very good party of 500 horse, most\ngentlemen, for the king, and had possessed Oxford; but on the approach\nof the Lord Say quitted it, being now but an open town, and retreated\nto Worcester, from whence, on the approach of Essex's army, he\nretreated to the king. And now all things grew ripe for action, both\nparties having secured their posts, and settled their schemes of the\nwar, taken their posts and places as their measures and opportunities\ndirected. The field was next in their eye, and the soldiers began to\ninquire when they should fight, for as yet there had been little or no\nblood drawn; and 'twas not long before they had enough of it; for, I\nbelieve, I may challenge all the historians in Europe to tell me of\nany war in the world where, in the space of four years, there were so\nmany pitched battles, sieges, fights, and skirmishes, as in this war.\nWe never encamped or entrenched, never fortified the avenues to our\nposts, or lay fenced with rivers and defiles; here was no leaguers in\nthe field, as at the story of Nuremberg, neither had our soldiers any\ntents, or what they call heavy baggage. 'Twas the general maxim of\nthis war, \"Where is the enemy? let us go and fight them,\" or, on the\nother hand, if the enemy was coming, \"What was to be done?\" \"Why, what\nshould be done? Draw out into the fields and fight them.\" I cannot say\n'twas the prudence of the parties, and had the king fought less he had\ngained more. And I shall remark several times when the eagerness of\nfighting was the worst counsel, and proved our loss. This benefit,\nhowever, happened in general to the country, that it made a quick,\nthough a bloody, end of the war, which otherwise had lasted till it\nmight have ruined the whole nation.\nOn the 10th of October the king's army was in full march, his Majesty,\ngeneralissimo, the Earl of Lindsey, general of the foot, Prince\nRupert, general of the horse; and the first action in the field was by\nPrince Rupert and Sir John Byron. Sir John had brought his body of\n500 horse, as I noted already, from Oxford to Worcester; the Lord\nSay, with a strong party, being in the neighbourhood of Oxford, and\nexpected in the town, Colonel Sandys, a hot man, and who had more\ncourage than judgment, advances with about 1500 horse and dragoons,\nwith design to beat Sir John Byron out of Worcester, and take post\nthere for the Parliament.\nThe king had notice that the Earl of Essex designed for Worcester, and\nPrince Rupert was ordered to advance with a body of horse and dragoons\nto face the enemy, and bring off Sir John Byron. This his Majesty did\nto amuse the Earl of Essex, that he might expect him that way; whereas\nthe king's design was to get between the Earl of Essex's army and the\ncity of London; and his Majesty's end was doubly answered, for he\nnot only drew Essex on to Worcester, where he spent more time than he\nneeded, but he beat the party into the bargain.\nI went volunteer in this party, and rode in my father's regiment; for\nthough we really expected not to see the enemy, yet I was tired with\nlying still. We came to Worcester just as notice was brought to\nSir John Byron, that a party of the enemy was on their march for\nWorcester, upon which the prince immediately consulting what was to be\ndone, resolves to march the next morning and fight them.\nThe enemy, who lay at Pershore, about eight miles from Worcester, and,\nas I believe, had no notice of our march, came on very confidently\nin the morning, and found us fairly drawn up to receive them. I must\nconfess this was the bluntest, downright way of making war that ever\nwas seen. The enemy, who, in all the little knowledge I had of war,\nought to have discovered our numbers, and guessed by our posture what\nour design was, might easily have informed themselves that we intended\nto attack them, and so might have secured the advantage of a bridge in\ntheir front; but without any regard to these methods of policy, they\ncame on at all hazards. Upon this notice, my father proposed to the\nprince to halt for them, and suffer ourselves to be attacked, since\nwe found them willing to give us the advantage. The prince approved of\nthe advice, so we halted within view of a bridge, leaving space enough\non our front for about half the number of their forces to pass and\ndraw up; and at the bridge was posted about fifty dragoons, with\norders to retire as soon as the enemy advanced, as if they had been\nafraid. On the right of the road was a ditch, and a very high bank\nbehind, where we had placed 300 dragoons, with orders to lie flat on\ntheir faces till the enemy had passed the bridge, and to let fly among\nthem as soon as our trumpets sounded a charge. Nobody but Colonel\nSandys would have been caught in such a snare, for he might easily\nhave seen that when he was over the bridge there was not room enough\nfor him to fight in. But the Lord of hosts was so much in their\nmouths, for that was the word for that day, that they took little heed\nhow to conduct the host of the Lord to their own advantage.\nAs we expected, they appeared, beat our dragoons from the bridge, and\npassed it. We stood firm in one line with a reserve, and expected a\ncharge, but Colonel Sandys, showing a great deal more judgment than\nwe thought he was master of, extends himself to the left, finding\nthe ground too strait, and began to form his men with a great deal of\nreadiness and skill, for by this time he saw our number was greater\nthan he expected. The prince perceiving it, and foreseeing that the\nstratagem of the dragoons would be frustrated by this, immediately\ncharges with the horse, and the dragoons at the same time standing\nupon their feet, poured in their shot upon those that were passing\nthe bridge. This surprise put them into such disorder, that we had but\nlittle work with them. For though Colonel Sandys with the troops next\nhim sustained the shock very well, and behaved themselves gallantly\nenough, yet the confusion beginning in their rear, those that had not\nyet passed the bridge were kept back by the fire of the dragoons,\nand the rest were easily cut in pieces. Colonel Sandys was mortally\nwounded and taken prisoner, and the crowd was so great to get back,\nthat many pushed into the water, and were rather smothered than\ndrowned. Some of them who never came into the fight, were so frighted,\nthat they never looked behind them till they came to Pershore, and,\nas we were afterwards informed, the lifeguards of the general who had\nquartered in the town, left it in disorder enough, expecting us at the\nheels of their men.\nIf our business had been to keep the Parliament army from coming to\nWorcester, we had a very good opportunity to have secured the bridge\nat Pershore; but our design lay another way, as I have said, and the\nking was for drawing Essex on to the Severn, in hopes to get behind\nhim, which fell out accordingly.\nEssex, spurred by this affront in the infancy of their affairs,\nadvances the next day, and came to Pershore time enough to be at the\nfuneral of some of his men; and from thence he advances to Worcester.\nWe marched back to Worcester extremely pleased with the good success\nof our first attack, and our men were so flushed with this little\nvictory that it put vigour into the whole army. The enemy lost about\n3000 men, and we carried away near 150 prisoners, with 500 horses,\nsome standards and arms, and among the prisoners their colonel; but he\ndied a little after of his wounds.\nUpon the approach of the enemy, Worcester was quitted, and the forces\nmarched back to join the king's army, which lay then at Bridgnorth,\nLudlow, and thereabout. As the king expected, it fell out; Essex found\nso much work at Worcester to settle Parliament quarters, and secure\nBristol, Gloucester, and Hereford, that it gave the king a full day's\nmarch of him. So the king, having the start of him, moves towards\nLondon; and Essex, nettled to be both beaten in fight and outdone in\nconduct, decamps, and follows the king.\nThe Parliament, and the Londoners too, were in a strange consternation\nat this mistake of their general; and had the king, whose great\nmisfortune was always to follow precipitant advices,--had the king,\nI say, pushed on his first design, which he had formed with very good\nreason, and for which he had been dodging with Essex eight or ten\ndays, viz., of marching directly to London, where he had a very\ngreat interest, and where his friends were not yet oppressed and\nimpoverished, as they were afterwards, he had turned the scale of his\naffairs. And every man expected it; for the members began to shift\nfor themselves, expresses were sent on the heels of one another to the\nEarl of Essex to hasten after the king, and, if possible, to bring him\nto a battle. Some of these letters fell into our hands, and we might\neasily discover that the Parliament were in the last confusion at\nthe thoughts of our coming to London. Besides this, the city was in a\nworse fright than the House, and the great moving men began to go\nout of town. In short, they expected us, and we expected to come, but\nProvidence for our ruin had otherwise determined it.\nEssex, upon news of the king's march, and upon receipt of the\nParliament's letters, makes long marches after us, and on the 23rd of\nOctober reaches the village of Kineton, in Warwickshire. The king was\nalmost as far as Banbury, and there calls a council of war. Some of\nthe old officers that foresaw the advantage the king had, the concern\nthe city was in, and the vast addition, both to the reputation of his\nforces and the increase of his interest, it would be if the king could\ngain that point, urged the king to march on to London. Prince\nRupert and the fresh colonels pressed for fighting, told the king it\ndispirited their men to march with the enemy at their heels; that the\nParliament army was inferior to him by 6000 men, and fatigued with\nhasty marching; that as their orders were to fight, he had nothing\nto do but to post himself to advantage, and receive them to their\ndestruction; that the action near Worcester had let them know how easy\nit was to deal with a rash enemy; and that 'twas a dishonour for him,\nwhose forces were so much superior, to be pursued by his subjects in\nrebellion. These and the like arguments prevailed with the king to\nalter his wiser measures and resolve to fight. Nor was this all; when\na resolution of fighting was taken, that part of the advice which they\nwho were for fighting gave, as a reason for their opinion, was forgot,\nand instead of halting and posting ourselves to advantage till the\nenemy came up, we were ordered to march back and meet them.\nNay, so eager was the prince for fighting, that when, from the top of\nEdgehill, the enemy's army was descried in the bottom between them\nand the village of Kineton, and that the enemy had bid us defiance,\nby discharging three cannons, we accepted the challenge, and answering\nwith two shots from our army, we must needs forsake the advantages\nof the hills, which they must have mounted under the command of our\ncannon, and march down to them into the plain. I confess, I thought\nhere was a great deal more gallantry than discretion; for it was\nplainly taking an advantage out of our own hands, and putting it into\nthe hands of the enemy. An enemy that must fight, may always be fought\nwith to advantage. My old hero, the glorious Gustavus Adolphus, was as\nforward to fight as any man of true valour mixed with any policy need\nto be, or ought to be; but he used to say, \"An enemy reduced to a\nnecessity of fighting is half beaten.\"\nTis true, we were all but young in the war; the soldiers hot and\nforward, and eagerly desired to come to hands with the enemy. But\nI take the more notice of it here, because the king in this acted\nagainst his own measures; for it was the king himself had laid the\ndesign of getting the start of Essex, and marching to London. His\nfriends had invited him thither, and expected him, and suffered deeply\nfor the omission; and yet he gave way to these hasty counsels, and\nsuffered his judgment to be overruled by majority of voices; an error,\nI say, the King of Sweden was never guilty of. For if all the officers\nat a council of war were of a different opinion, yet unless their\nreasons mastered his judgment, their votes never altered his measures.\nBut this was the error of our good, but unfortunate master, three\ntimes in this war, and particularly in two of the greatest battles of\nthe time, viz., this of Edgehill, and that of Naseby.\nThe resolution for fighting being published in the army, gave an\nuniversal joy to the soldiers, who expressed an extraordinary ardour\nfor fighting. I remember my father talking with me about it, asked\nme what I thought of the approaching battle. I told him I thought the\nking had done very well; for at that time I did not consult the extent\nof the design, and had a mighty mind, like other rash people, to see\nit brought to a day, which made me answer my father as I did. \"But,\"\nsaid I, \"sir, I doubt there will be but indifferent doings on both\nsides, between two armies both made up of fresh men, that have never\nseen any service.\" My father minded little what I spoke of that; but\nwhen I seemed pleased that the king had resolved to fight, he looked\nangrily at me, and told me he was sorry I could see no farther into\nthings. \"I tell you,\" says he hastily, \"if the king should kill and\ntake prisoners this whole army, general and all, the Parliament will\nhave the victory; for we have lost more by slipping this opportunity\nof getting into London, than we shall ever get by ten battles.\" I\nsaw enough of this afterwards to convince me of the weight of what\nmy father said, and so did the king too; but it was then too late.\nAdvantages slipped in war are never recovered.\nWe were now in a full march to fight the Earl of Essex. It was on\nSunday morning the 24th of October 1642, fair weather overhead, but\nthe ground very heavy and dirty. As soon as we came to the top of\nEdgehill, we discovered their whole army. They were not drawn up,\nhaving had two miles to march that morning, but they were very busy\nforming their lines, and posting the regiments as they came up. Some\nof their horse were exceedingly fatigued, having marched forty-eight\nhours together; and had they been suffered to follow us three or four\ndays' march farther, several of their regiments of horse would\nhave been quite ruined, and their foot would have been rendered\nunserviceable for the present. But we had no patience.\nAs soon as our whole army was come to the top of the hill, we\nwere drawn up in order of battle. The king's army made a very fine\nappearance; and indeed they were a body of gallant men as ever\nappeared in the field, and as well furnished at all points; the\nhorse exceedingly well accoutred, being most of them gentlemen and\nvolunteers, some whole regiments serving without pay; their horses\nvery good and fit for service as could be desired. The whole army were\nnot above 18,000 men, and the enemy not 1000 over or under, though we\nhad been told they were not above 12,000; but they had been reinforced\nwith 4000 men from Northampton. The king was with the general, the\nEarl of Lindsey, in the main battle; Prince Rupert commanded the right\nwing, and the Marquis of Hertford, the Lord Willoughby, and several\nother very good officers the left.\nThe signal of battle being given with two cannon shots, we marched\nin order of battalia down the hill, being drawn up in two lines with\nbodies of reserve; the enemy advanced to meet us much in the same\nform, with this difference only, that they had placed their cannon on\ntheir right, and the king had placed ours in the centre, before, or\nrather between two great brigades of foot. Their cannon began with us\nfirst, and did some mischief among the dragoons of our left wing; but\nour officers, perceiving the shot took the men and missed the horses,\nordered all to alight, and every man leading his horse, to advance in\nthe same order; and this saved our men, for most of the enemy's shot\nflew over their heads. Our cannon made a terrible execution upon their\nfoot for a quarter of an hour, and put them into great confusion,\ntill the general obliged them to halt, and changed the posture of his\nfront, marching round a small rising ground by which he avoided the\nfury of our artillery.\nBy this time the wings were engaged, the king having given the signal\nof battle, and ordered the right wing to fall on. Prince Rupert, who,\nas is said, commanded that wing, fell on with such fury, and pushed\nthe left wing of the Parliament army so effectually, that in a moment\nhe filled all with terror and confusion. Commissary-General Ramsey, a\nScotsman, a Low Country Soldier, and an experienced officer, commanded\ntheir left wing, and though he did all that an expert soldier, and\na brave commander could do, yet 'twas to no purpose; his lines were\nimmediately broken, and all overwhelmed in a trice. Two regiments of\nfoot, whether as part of the left wing, or on the left of the main\nbody, I know not, were disordered by their own horse, and rather\ntrampled to death by the horses, than beaten by our men; but they were\nso entirely broken and disordered, that I do not remember that ever\nthey made one volley upon our men; for their own horse running away,\nand falling foul on these foot, were so vigorously followed by our\nmen, that the foot never had a moment to rally or look behind them.\nThe point of the left wing of horse were not so soon broken as the\nrest, and three regiments of them stood firm for some time. The\ndexterous officers of the other regiments taking the opportunity,\nrallied a great many of their scattered men behind them, and pieced\nin some troops with those regiments; but after two or three charges,\nwhich a brigade of our second line, following the prince, made upon\nthem, they also were broken with the rest.\nI remember that at the great battle of Leipsic, the right wing of the\nImperialists having fallen in upon the Saxons with like fury to this,\nbore down all before them, and beat the Saxons quite out of the field;\nupon which the soldiers cried, \"Victoria, let us follow.\" \"No, no,\"\nsaid the old General Tilly, \"let them go, but let us beat the Swedes\ntoo, and then all's our own.\" Had Prince Rupert taken this method, and\ninstead of following the fugitives, who were dispersed so effectually\nthat two regiments would have secured them from rallying--I say, had\nhe fallen in upon the foot, or wheeled to the left, and fallen in\nupon the rear of the enemy's right wing of horse, or returned to\nthe assistance of the left wing of our horse, we had gained the most\nabsolute and complete victory that could be; nor had 1000 men of\nthe enemy's army got off. But this prince, who was full of fire, and\npleased to see the rout of an enemy, pursued them quite to the town of\nKineton, where indeed he killed abundance of their men, and some time\nalso was lost in plundering the baggage.\nBut in the meantime, the glory and advantage of the day was lost to\nthe king, for the right wing of the Parliament horse could not be so\nbroken. Sir William Balfour made a desperate charge upon the point of\nthe king's left, and had it not been for two regiments of dragoons who\nwere planted in the reserve, had routed the whole wing, for he broke\nthrough the first line, and staggered the second, who advanced to\ntheir assistance, but was so warmly received by those dragoons, who\ncame seasonably in, and gave their first fire on horseback, that his\nfury was checked, and having lost a great many men, was forced to\nwheel about to his own men; and had the king had but three regiments\nof horse at hand to have charged him, he had been routed. The rest of\nthis wing kept their ground, and received the first fury of the enemy\nwith great firmness; after which, advancing in their turn, they\nwere at once masters of the Earl of Essex's cannon. And here we lost\nanother advantage; for if any foot had been at hand to support these\nhorse, they had carried off the cannon, or turned it upon the main\nbattle of the enemy's foot, but the foot were otherwise engaged. The\nhorse on this side fought with great obstinacy and variety of success\na great while. Sir Philip Stapleton, who commanded the guards of the\nEarl of Essex, being engaged with a party of our Shrewsbury cavaliers,\nas we called them, was once in a fair way to have been cut off by\na brigade of our foot, who, being advanced to fall on upon the\nParliament's main body, flanked Sir Philip's horse in their way, and\nfacing to the left, so furiously charged him with their pikes, that he\nwas obliged to retire in great disorder, and with the loss of a great\nmany men and horses.\nAll this while the foot on both sides were desperately engaged, and\ncoming close up to the teeth of one another with the clubbed musket\nand push of pike, fought with great resolution, and a terrible\nslaughter on both sides, giving no quarter for a great while; and they\ncontinued to do thus, till, as if they were tired, and out of wind,\neither party seemed willing enough to leave off, and take breath.\nThose which suffered most were that brigade which had charged Sir\nWilliam Stapleton's horse, who being bravely engaged in the front\nwith the enemy's foot, were, on the sudden, charged again in front\nand flank by Sir William Balfour's horse and disordered, after a\nvery desperate defence. Here the king's standard was taken, the\nstandard-bearer, Sir Edward Verney, being killed; but it was rescued\nagain by Captain Smith, and brought to the king the same night, for\nwhich the king knighted the captain.\nThis brigade of foot had fought all the day, and had not been broken\nat last, if any horse had been at hand to support them. The field\nbegan to be now clear; both armies stood, as it were, gazing at one\nanother, only the king, having rallied his foot, seemed inclined to\nrenew the charge, and began to cannonade them, which they could not\nreturn, most of their cannon being nailed while they were in our\npossession, and all the cannoniers killed or fled; and our gunners did\nexecution upon Sir William Balfour's troops for a good while.\nMy father's regiment being in the right with the prince, I saw little\nof the fight but the rout of the enemy's left, and we had as full a\nvictory there as we could desire, but spent too much time in it. We\nkilled about 2000 men in that part of the action, and having totally\ndispersed them, and plundered their baggage, began to think of our\nfellows when 'twas too late to help them. We returned, however,\nvictorious to the king, just as the battle was over. The king asked\nthe prince what news? He told him he could give his Majesty a good\naccount of the enemy's horse. \"Ay, by G--d,\" says a gentleman that\nstood by me, \"and of their carts too.\" That word was spoken with such\na sense of the misfortune, and made such an impression on the whole\narmy, that it occasioned some ill blood afterwards among us; and but\nthat the king took up the business, it had been of ill consequence,\nfor some person who had heard the gentleman speak it, informed the\nprince who it was, and the prince resenting it, spoke something\nabout it in the hearing of the party when the king was present. The\ngentleman, not at all surprised, told his Highness openly he had said\nthe words; and though he owned he had no disrespect for his Highness,\nyet he could not but say, if it had not been so, the enemy's army had\nbeen better beaten. The prince replied something very disobliging;\nupon which the gentleman came up to the king, and kneeling, humbly\nbesought his Majesty to accept of his commission, and to give him\nleave to tell the prince, that whenever his Highness pleased, he was\nready to give him satisfaction. The prince was exceedingly provoked,\nand as he was very passionate, began to talk very oddly, and without\nall government of himself. The gentleman, as bold as he, but much\ncalmer preserved his temper, but maintained his quarrel; and the king\nwas so concerned, that he was very much out of humour with the prince\nabout it. However, his Majesty, upon consideration, soon ended the\ndispute, by laying his commands on them both to speak no more of it\nfor that day; and refusing the commission from the colonel, for he\nwas no less, sent for them both next morning in private, and made them\nfriends again.\nBut to return to our story. We came back to the king timely enough to\nput the Earl of Essex's men out of all humour of renewing the fight,\nand as I observed before, both parties stood gazing at one another,\nand our cannon playing upon them obliged Sir William Balfour's horse\nto wheel off in some disorder, but they returned us none again, which,\nas we afterwards understood, was, as I said before, for want of both\npowder and gunners, for the cannoniers and firemen were killed, or\nhad quitted their train in the fight, when our horse had possession of\ntheir artillery; and as they had spiked up some of the cannon, so they\nhad carried away fifteen carriages of powder.\nNight coming on, ended all discourse of more fighting, and the king\ndrew off and marched towards the hills. I know no other token of\nvictory which the enemy had than their lying in the field of battle\nall night, which they did for no other reason than that, having lost\ntheir baggage and provisions, they had nowhere to go, and which we did\nnot, because we had good quarters at hand.\nThe number of prisoners and of the slain were not very unequal; the\nenemy lost more men, we most of quality. Six thousand men on both\nsides were killed on the spot, whereof, when our rolls were examined,\nwe missed 2500. We lost our brave general the old Earl of Lindsey,\nwho was wounded and taken prisoner, and died of his wounds; Sir Edward\nStradling, Colonel Lundsford, prisoners; and Sir Edward Verney and a\ngreat many gentlemen of quality slain. On the other hand, we carried\noff Colonel Essex, Colonel Ramsey, and the Lord St John, who also died\nof his wounds; we took five ammunition waggons full of powder, and\nbrought off about 500 horse in the defeat of the left wing, with\neighteen standards and colours, and lost seventeen.\nThe slaughter of the left wing was so great, and the flight so\neffectual, that several of the officers rid clear away, coasting\nround, and got to London, where they reported that the Parliament army\nwas entirely defeated--all lost, killed, or taken, as if none but them\nwere left alive to carry the news. This filled them with consternation\nfor a while, but when other messengers followed, all was restored\nto quiet again, and the Parliament cried up their victory and\nsufficiently mocked God and their general with their public thanks for\nit. Truly, as the fight was a deliverance to them, they were in the\nright to give thanks for it; but as to its being a victory, neither\nside had much to boast of, and they less a great deal than we had.\nI got no hurt in this fight, and indeed we of the right wing had but\nlittle fighting; I think I had discharged my pistols but once, and my\ncarabine twice, for we had more fatigue than fight; the enemy\nfled, and we had little to do but to follow and kill those we could\novertake. I spoiled a good horse, and got a better from the enemy in\nhis room, and came home weary enough. My father lost his horse, and\nin the fall was bruised in his thigh by another horse treading on him,\nwhich disabled him for some time, and at his request, by his Majesty's\nconsent, I commanded the regiment in his absence.\nThe enemy received a recruit of 4000 men the next morning; if they had\nnot, I believe they had gone back towards Worcester; but, encouraged\nby that reinforcement, they called a council of war, and had a long\ndebate whether they could attack us again; but notwithstanding their\ngreat victory, they durst not attempt it, though this addition of\nstrength made them superior to us by 3000 men.\nThe king indeed expected, that when these troops joined them they\nwould advance, and we were preparing to receive them at a village\ncalled Aynho, where the headquarters continued three or four days;\nand had they really esteemed the first day's work a victory, as they\ncalled it, they would have done it, but they thought not good to\nventure, but march away to Warwick, and from thence to Coventry. The\nking, to urge them to venture upon him, and come to a second battle,\nsits down before Banbury, and takes both town and castle; and two\nentire regiments of foot, and one troop of horse, quit the Parliament\nservice, and take up their arms for the king. This was done almost\nbefore their faces, which was a better proof of a victory on our side,\nthan any they could pretend to. From Banbury we marched to Oxford; and\nnow all men saw the Parliament had made a great mistake, for they were\nnot always in the right any more than we, to leave Oxford without a\ngarrison. The king caused new regular works to be drawn round it,\nand seven royal bastions with ravelins and out-works, a double ditch,\ncounterscarp, and covered way; all which, added to the advantage\nof its situation, made it a formidable place, and from this time it\nbecame our place of arms, and the centre of affairs on the king's\nside.\nIf the Parliament had the honour of the field, the king reaped the\nfruits of the victory; for all this part of the country submitted to\nhim. Essex's army made the best of their way to London, and were but\nin an ill condition when they came there, especially their horse.\nThe Parliament, sensible of this, and receiving daily accounts of the\nprogress we made, began to cool a little in their temper, abated of\ntheir first rage, and voted an address for peace; and sent to the king\nto let him know they were desirous to prevent the effusion of more\nblood, and to bring things to an accommodation, or, as they called it,\na right understanding.\nI was now, by the king's particular favour, summoned to the councils\nof war, my father continuing absent and ill; and now I began to think\nof the real grounds, and which was more, of the fatal issue of this\nwar. I say, I now began it; for I cannot say that I ever rightly\nstated matters in my own mind before, though I had been enough used\nto blood, and to see the destruction of people, sacking of towns, and\nplundering the country; yet 'twas in Germany, and among strangers; but\nI found a strange, secret and unaccountable sadness upon my spirits,\nto see this acting in my own native country. It grieved me to the\nheart, even in the rout of our enemies, to see the slaughter of them;\nand even in the fight, to hear a man cry for quarter in English, moved\nme to a compassion which I had never been used to; nay, sometimes\nit looked to me as if some of my own men had been beaten; and when\nI heard a soldier cry, \"O God, I am shot,\" I looked behind me to see\nwhich of my own troop was fallen. Here I saw myself at the cutting of\nthe throats of my friends; and indeed some of my near relations. My\nold comrades and fellow-soldiers in Germany were some with us, some\nagainst us, as their opinions happened to differ in religion. For my\npart, I confess I had not much religion in me, at that time; but I\nthought religion rightly practised on both sides would have made us\nall better friends; and therefore sometimes I began to think, that\nboth the bishops of our side, and the preachers on theirs, made\nreligion rather the pretence than the cause of the war. And from those\nthoughts I vigorously argued it at the council of war against marching\nto Brentford, while the address for a treaty of peace from the\nParliament was in hand: for I was for taking the Parliament by the\nhandle which they had given us, and entering into a negotiation, with\nthe advantage of its being at their own request.\nI thought the king had now in his hands an opportunity to make an\nhonourable peace; for this battle of Edgehill, as much as they boasted\nof the victory to hearten up their friends, had sorely weakened their\narmy, and discouraged their party too, which in effect was worse as to\ntheir army. The horse were particularly in an ill case, and the foot\ngreatly diminished, and the remainder very sickly; but besides this,\nthe Parliament were greatly alarmed at the progress we made afterward;\nand still fearing the king's surprising them, had sent for the Earl of\nEssex to London, to defend them; by which the country was, as it were,\ndefeated and abandoned, and left to be plundered; our parties overrun\nall places at pleasure. All this while I considered, that whatever the\nsoldiers of fortune meant by the war, our desires were to suppress\nthe exorbitant power of a party, to establish our king in his just\nand legal rights; but not with a design to destroy the constitution of\ngovernment, and the being of Parliament. And therefore I thought now\nwas the time for peace, and there were a great many worthy gentlemen\nin the army of my mind; and, had our master had ears to hear us, the\nwar might have had an end here.\nThis address for peace was received by the king at Maidenhead, whither\nthis army was now advanced, and his Majesty returned answer by Sir\nPeter Killegrew, that he desired nothing more, and would not be\nwanting on his part. Upon this the Parliament name commissioners, and\nhis Majesty excepting against Sir John Evelyn, they left him out,\nand sent others; and desired the king to appoint his residence near\nLondon, where the commissioners might wait upon him. Accordingly the\nking appointed Windsor for the place of treaty, and desired the\ntreaty might be hastened. And thus all things looked with a favourable\naspect, when one unlucky action knocked it all on the head, and filled\nboth parties with more implacable animosities than they had before,\nand all hopes of peace vanished.\nDuring this progress of the king's armies, we were always abroad with\nthe horse ravaging the country, and plundering the Roundheads. Prince\nRupert, a most active vigilant party man, and I must own, fitter for\nsuch than for a general, was never lying still, and I seldom stayed\nbehind; for our regiment being very well mounted, he would always send\nfor us, if he had any extraordinary design in hand.\nOne time in particular he had a design upon Aylesbury, the capital of\nBuckinghamshire; indeed our view at first was rather to beat the\nenemy out of town and demolish their works, and perhaps raise some\ncontributions on the rich country round it, than to garrison the\nplace, and keep it; for we wanted no more garrisons, being masters of\nthe field.\nThe prince had 2500 horse with him in this expedition, but no foot;\nthe town had some foot raised in the country by Mr Hampden, and two\nregiments of country militia, whom we made light of, but we found they\nstood to their tackle better than well enough. We came very early to\nthe town, and thought they had no notice of us; but some false brother\nhad given them the alarm, and we found them all in arms, the hedges\nwithout the town lined with musketeers, on that side in particular\nwhere they expected us, and two regiments of foot drawn up in view to\nsupport them, with some horse in the rear of all.\nThe prince, willing, however, to do something, caused some of his\nhorse to alight, and serve as dragoons; and having broken a way into\nthe enclosures, the horse beat the foot from behind the hedges, while\nthe rest who were alighted charged them in the lane which leads to\nthe town. Here they had cast up some works, and fired from their\nlines very regularly, considering them as militia only, the governor\nencouraging them by his example; so that finding without some foot\nthere would be no good to be done, we gave it over, and drew off; and\nso Aylesbury escaped a scouring for that time.\nI cannot deny but these flying parties of horse committed great spoil\namong the country people; and sometimes the prince gave a liberty to\nsome cruelties which were not at all for the king's interest; because\nit being still upon our own country, and the king's own subjects, whom\nin all his declarations he protested to be careful of, it seemed to\ncontradict all those protestations and declarations, and served to\naggravate and exasperate the common people; and the king's enemies\nmade all the advantages of it that was possible, by crying out of\ntwice as many extravagancies as were committed.\nTis true, the king, who naturally abhorred such things, could not\nrestrain his men, no, nor his generals, so absolutely as he would\nhave done. The war, on his side, was very much _\u00e0 la_ volunteer;\nmany gentlemen served him at their own charge, and some paid whole\nregiments themselves: sometimes also the king's affairs were straiter\nthan ordinary, and his men were not very well paid, and this obliged\nhim to wink at their excursions upon the country, though he did not\napprove of them. And yet I must own, that in those parts of England\nwhere the war was hottest, there never was seen that ruin and\ndepopulation, murders, and barbarities, which I have seen even among\nProtestant armies abroad, in Germany and other foreign parts of the\nworld. And if the Parliament people had seen those things abroad, as I\nhad, they would not have complained.\nThe most I have seen was plundering the towns for provisions, drinking\nup their beer, and turning our horses into their fields, or stacks\nof corn; and sometimes the soldiers would be a little rude with the\nwenches; but alas! what was this to Count Tilly's ravages in Saxony?\nOr what was our taking of Leicester by storm, where they cried out of\nour barbarities, to the sacking of New Brandenburg, or the taking of\nMagdeburg? In Leicester, of 7000 or 8000 people in the town, 300 were\nkilled; in Magdeburg, of 25,000 scarce 2700 were left, and the whole\ntown burnt to ashes. I myself have seen seventeen or eighteen villages\non fire in a day, and the people driven away from their dwellings,\nlike herds of cattle. I do not instance these greater barbarities to\njustify lesser actions, which are nevertheless irregular; but I do\nsay, that circumstances considered, this war was managed with as\nmuch humanity on both sides as could be expected, especially also\nconsidering the animosity of parties.\nBut to return to the prince: he had not always the same success in\nthese enterprises, for sometimes we came short home. And I cannot omit\none pleasant adventure which happened to a party of ours, in one of\nthese excursions into Buckinghamshire. The major of our regiment was\nsoundly beaten by a party, which, as I may say, was led by a woman;\nand, if I had not rescued him, I know not but he had been taken\nprisoner by a woman. It seems our men had besieged some fortified\nhouse about Oxfordshire, towards Thame, and the house being defended\nby the lady in her husband's absence, she had yielded the house upon a\ncapitulation; one of the articles of which was, to march out with\nall her servants, soldiers, and goods, and to be conveyed to Thame.\nWhether she thought to have gone no farther, or that she reckoned\nherself safe there, I know not; but my major, with two troops of\nhorse, meets with this lady and her party, about five miles from\nThame, as we were coming back from our defeated attack of Aylesbury.\nWe reckoned ourselves in an enemy's country, and had lived a little at\nlarge, or at discretion, as 'tis called abroad; and these two troops,\nwith the major, were returning to our detachment from a little\nvillage, where, at the farmer's house, they had met with some liquor,\nand truly some of his men were so drunk they could but just sit upon\ntheir horses. The major himself was not much better, and the whole\nbody were but in a sorry condition to fight. Upon the road they meet\nthis party; the lady having no design of fighting, and being, as she\nthought, under the protection of the articles, sounds a parley, and\ndesired to speak with the officer. The major, as drunk as he was,\ncould tell her, that by the articles she was to be assured no farther\nthan Thame, and being now five miles beyond it, she was a fair enemy,\nand therefore demanded to render themselves prisoners. The lady\nseemed surprised, but being sensible she was in the wrong, offered\nto compound for her goods, and would have given him \u00a3300, and I think\nseven or eight horses. The major would certainly have taken it, if he\nhad not been drunk; but he refused it, and gave threatening words to\nher, blustering in language which he thought proper to fright a woman,\nviz., that he would cut them all to pieces, and give no quarter, and\nthe like.\nThe lady, who had been more used to the smell of powder than he\nimagined, called some of her servants to her, and, consulting with\nthem what to do, they all unanimously encouraged her to let them\nfight; told her it was plain that the commander was drunk, and all\nthat were with him were rather worse than he, and hardly able to sit\ntheir horses; and that therefore one bold charge would put them all\ninto confusion. In a word, she consented, and, as she was a woman,\nthey desired her to secure herself among the waggons; but she refused,\nand told them bravely she would take her fate with them. In short, she\nboldly bade my major defiance, and that he might do his worst, since\nshe had offered him fair, and he had refused it; her mind was altered\nnow, and she would give him nothing, and bade his officer that\nparleyed longer with her be gone; so the parley ended. After this she\ngave him fair leave to go back to his men; but before he could tell\nhis tale to them she was at his heels with all her men, and gave him\nsuch a home charge as put his men into disorder, and, being too drunk\nto rally, they were knocked down before they knew what to do with\nthemselves, and in a few minutes more they took to a plain flight.\nBut what was still worse, the men, being some of them very drunk, when\nthey came to run for their lives fell over one another, and tumbled\nover their horses, and made such work that a troop of women might have\nbeaten them all. In this pickle, with the enemy at his heels, I\ncame in with him, hearing the noise. When I appeared the pursuers\nretreated, and, seeing what a condition my people were in, and not\nknowing the strength of the enemy, I contented myself with bringing\nthem off without pursuing the other; nor could I ever hear positively\nwho this female captain was. We lost seventeen or eighteen of our men,\nand about thirty horses; but when the particulars of the story was\ntold us, our major was so laughed at by the whole army, and laughed\nat everywhere, that he was ashamed to show himself for a week or a\nfortnight after.\nBut to return to the king: his Majesty, as I observed, was at\nMaidenhead addressed by the Parliament for peace, and Windsor\nbeing appointed for the place of treaty, the van of his army lay at\nColebrook. In the meantime, whether it were true or only a pretence,\nbut it was reported the Parliament general had sent a body of his\ntroops, with a train of artillery, to Hammersmith, in order to fall\nupon some part of our army, or to take some advanced post, which was\nto the prejudice of our men; whereupon the king ordered the army to\nmarch, and, by the favour of a thick mist, came within half a mile of\nBrentford before he was discovered. There were two regiments of foot,\nand about 600 horse into the town, of the enemy's best troops; these\ntaking the alarm, posted themselves on the bridge at the west end of\nthe town. The king attacked them with a select detachment of his best\ninfantry, and they defended themselves with incredible obstinacy. I\nmust own I never saw raw men, for they could not have been in arms\nabove four months, act like them in my life. In short, there was no\nforcing these men, for, though two whole brigades of our foot, backed\nby our horse, made five several attacks upon them they could not break\nthem, and we lost a great many brave men in that action. At last,\nseeing the obstinacy of these men, a party of horse was ordered to go\nround from Osterley; and, entering the town on the north side, where,\nthough the horse made some resistance, it was not considerable, the\ntown was presently taken. I led my regiment through an enclosure, and\ncame into the town nearer to the bridge than the rest, by which means\nI got first into the town; but I had this loss by my expedition, that\nthe foot charged me before the body was come up, and poured in their\nshot very furiously. My men were but in an ill case, and would not\nhave stood much longer, if the rest of the horse coming up the lane\nhad not found them other employment. When the horse were thus entered,\nthey immediately dispersed the enemy's horse, who fled away towards\nLondon, and falling in sword in hand upon the rear of the foot, who\nwere engaged at the bridge, they were all cut in pieces, except about\n200, who, scorning to ask quarter, desperately threw themselves into\nthe river of Thames, where they were most of them drowned.\nThe Parliament and their party made a great outcry at this\nattempt--that it was base and treacherous while in a treaty of peace;\nand that the king, having amused them with hearkening to a treaty,\ndesigned to have seized upon their train of artillery first, and,\nafter that, to have surprised both the city of London and the\nParliament. And I have observed since, that our historians note this\naction as contrary to the laws of honour and treaties, though as there\nwas no cessation of arms agreed on, nothing is more contrary to the\nlaws of war than to suggest it.\nThat it was a very unhappy thing to the king and whole nation, as it\nbroke off the hopes of peace, and was the occasion of bringing the\nScots army in upon us, I readily acknowledge, but that there\nwas anything dishonourable in it, I cannot allow. For though the\nParliament had addressed to the king for peace, and such steps were\ntaken in it as before, yet, as I have said, there was no proposals\nmade on either side for a cessation of arms, and all the world must\nallow, that in such cases the war goes on in the field, while the\npeace goes on in the cabinet. And if the war goes on, admit the king\nhad designed to surprise the city or Parliament, or all of them, it\nhad been no more than the custom of war allows, and what they would\nhave done by him if they could. The treaty of Westphalia, or peace of\nMunster, which ended the bloody wars of Germany, was a precedent for\nthis. That treaty was actually negotiating seven years, and yet the\nwar went on with all the vigour and rancour imaginable, even to the\nlast. Nay, the very time after the conclusion of it, but before the\nnews could be brought to the army, did he that was afterwards King\nof Sweden, Carolus Gustavus, take the city of Prague by surprise, and\ntherein an inestimable booty. Besides, all the wars of Europe are full\nof examples of this kind, and therefore I cannot see any reason to\nblame the king for this action as to the fairness of it. Indeed, as\nto the policy of it, I can say little; but the case was this. The king\nhad a gallant army, flushed with success, and things hitherto had gone\non very prosperously, both with his own army and elsewhere; he had\nabove 35,000 men in his own army, including his garrison left at\nBanbury, Shrewsbury, Worcester, Oxford, Wallingford, Abingdon,\nReading, and places adjacent. On the other hand, the Parliament army\ncame back to London in but a very sorry condition;[1] for what with\ntheir loss in their victory, as they called it, at Edgehill, their\nsickness, and a hasty march to London, they were very much diminished,\nthough at London they soon recruited them again. And this prosperity\nof the king's affairs might encourage him to strike this blow,\nthinking to bring the Parliament to the better terms by the\napprehensions of the superior strength of the king's forces.\nBut, however it was, the success did not equally answer the king's\nexpectation. The vigorous defence the troops posted at Brentford\nmade as above, gave the Earl of Essex opportunity, with extraordinary\napplication, to draw his forces out to Turnham Green. And the\nexceeding alacrity of the enemy was such, that their whole army\nappeared with them, making together an army of 24,000 men, drawn up\nin view of our forces by eight o'clock the next morning. The city\nregiments were placed between the regular troops, and all together\noffered us battle, but we were not in a condition to accept it. The\nking indeed was sometimes of the mind to charge them, and once or\ntwice ordered parties to advance to begin to skirmish, but upon better\nadvice altered his mind, and indeed it was the wisest counsel to defer\nthe fighting at that time. The Parliament generals were as unfixed in\ntheir resolutions, on the other side, as the king; sometimes they sent\nout parties, and then called them back again. One strong party of near\n3000 men marched off towards Acton, with orders to amuse us on that\nside, but were countermanded. Indeed, I was of the opinion we might\nhave ventured the battle, for though the Parliament's army were more\nnumerous, yet the city trained bands, which made up 4000 of their\nfoot, were not much esteemed, and the king was a great deal stronger\nin horse than they. But the main reason that hindered the engagement,\nwas want of ammunition, which the king having duly weighed, he caused\nthe carriages and cannon to draw off first, and then the foot, the\nhorse continuing to force the enemy till all was clear gone; and then\nwe drew off too and marched to Kingston, and the next day to Reading.\nNow the king saw his mistake in not continuing his march for London,\ninstead of facing about to fight the enemy at Edgehill. And all the\nhonour we had gained in so many successful enterprises lay buried in\nthis shameful retreat from an army of citizens' wives; for truly that\nappearance at Turnham Green was gay, but not great. There was as many\nlookers-on as actors. The crowds of ladies, apprentices, and mob was\nso great, that when the parties of our army advanced, and as they\nthought, to charge, the coaches, horsemen, and crowd, that cluttered\naway to be out of harm's way, looked little better than a rout. And I\nwas persuaded a good home charge from our horse would have sent their\nwhole army after them. But so it was, that this crowd of an army was\nto triumph over us, and they did it, for all the kingdom was carefully\ninformed how their dreadful looks had frightened us away.\nUpon our retreat, the Parliament resent this attack, which they call\ntreacherous, and vote no accommodation; but they considered of it\nafterwards, and sent six commissioners to the king with propositions.\nBut the change of the scene of action changed the terms of peace, and\nnow they made terms like conquerors, petition him to desert his army,\nand return to the Parliament, and the like. Had his Majesty, at the\nhead of his army, with the full reputation they had before, and in the\nebb of their affairs, rested at Windsor, and commenced a treaty, they\nhad certainly made more reasonable proposals; but now the scabbard\nseemed to be thrown away on both sides.\nThe rest of the winter was spent in strengthening parties and places,\nalso in fruitless treaties of peace, messages, remonstrances, and\npaper war on both sides, and no action remarkable happened anywhere\nthat I remember. Yet the king gained ground everywhere, and his forces\nin the north increased under the Earl of Newcastle; also my Lord\nGoring, then only called Colonel Goring, arrived from Holland,\nbringing three ships laden with arms and ammunition, and notice that\nthe queen was following with more. Goring brought 4000 barrels of\ngunpowder, and 20,000 small arms; all which came very seasonably, for\nthe king was in great want of them, especially the powder. Upon this\nrecruit the Earl of Newcastle draws down to York, and being above\n16,000 strong, made Sir Thomas Fairfax give ground, and retreat to\nHull.\nWhoever lay still, Prince Rupert was always abroad, and I chose to go\nout with his Highness as often as I had opportunity, for hitherto he\nwas always successful. About this time the prince being at Oxford, I\ngave him intelligence of a party of the enemy who lived a little at\nlarge, too much for good soldiers, about Cirencester. The prince, glad\nof the news, resolved to attack them, and though it was a wet season,\nand the ways exceeding bad, being in February, yet we marched all\nnight in the dark, which occasioned the loss of some horses and\nmen too, in sloughs and holes, which the darkness of the night had\nsuffered them to fall into. We were a very strong party, being about\n3000 horse and dragoons, and coming to Cirencester very early in the\nmorning, to our great satisfaction the enemy were perfectly surprised,\nnot having the least notice of our march, which answered our end more\nways than one. However, the Earl of Stamford's regiment made some\nresistance; but the town having no works to defend it, saving a slight\nbreastwork at the entrance of the road, with a turnpike, our dragoons\nalighted, and forcing their way over the bellies of Stamford's foot,\nthey beat them from their defence, and followed them at their heels\ninto the town. Stamford's regiment was entirely cut in pieces, and\nseveral others, to the number of about 800 men, and the town entered\nwithout any other resistance. We took 1200 prisoners, 3000 arms, and\nthe county magazine, which at that time was considerable; for there\nwas about 120 barrels of powder, and all things in proportion.\nI received the first hurt I got in this war at this action, for having\nfollowed the dragoons and brought my regiment within the barricado\nwhich they had gained, a musket bullet struck my horse just in the\nhead, and that so effectually that he fell down as dead as a stone all\nat once. The fall plunged me into a puddle of water and daubed me; and\nmy man having brought me another horse and cleaned me a little, I was\njust getting up, when another bullet struck me on my left hand, which\nI had just clapped on the horse's main to lift myself into the saddle.\nThe blow broke one of my fingers, and bruised my hand very much; and\nit proved a very painful hurt to me. For the present I did not\nmuch concern myself about it, but made my man tie it up close in my\nhandkerchief, and led up my men to the market-place, where we had\na very smart brush with some musketeers who were posted in the\nchurchyard; but our dragoons soon beat them out there, and the whole\ntown was then our own. We made no stay here, but marched back with\nall our booty to Oxford, for we knew the enemy were very strong at\nGloucester, and that way.\nMuch about the same time, the Earl of Northampton, with a strong\nparty, set upon Lichfield, and took the town, but could not take the\nClose; but they beat a body of 4000 men coming to the relief of the\ntown, under Sir John Gell, of Derbyshire, and Sir William Brereton, of\nCheshire, and killing 600 of them, dispersed the rest.\nOur second campaign now began to open; the king marched from Oxford\nto relieve Reading, which was besieged by the Parliament forces;\nbut General Fielding, Lieutenant-Governor, Sir Arthur Ashton being\nwounded, surrendered to Essex before the king could come up; for\nwhich he was tried by martial law, and condemned to die, but the king\nforbore to execute the sentence. This was the first town we had lost\nin the war, for still the success of the king's affairs was very\nencouraging. This bad news, however, was overbalanced by an account\nbrought the king at the same time, by an express from York, that the\nqueen had landed in the north, and had brought over a great magazine\nof arms and ammunition, besides some men. Some time after this her\nMajesty, marching southward to meet the king, joined the army near\nEdgehill, where the first battle was fought. She brought the king 3000\nfoot, 1500 horse and dragoons, six pieces of cannon, 1500 barrels of\npowder, 12,000 small arms.\nDuring this prosperity of the king's affairs his armies increased\nmightily in the western counties also. Sir William Waller, indeed,\ncommanded for the Parliament in those parts too, and particularly in\nDorsetshire, Hampshire, and Berkshire, where he carried on their\ncause but too fast; but farther west, Sir Nicholas Slanning, Sir Ralph\nHopton, and Sir Bevil Grenvile had extended the king's quarters from\nCornwall through Devonshire, and into Somersetshire, where they\ntook Exeter, Barnstaple, and Bideford; and the first of these they\nfortified very well, making it a place of arms for the west, and\nafterwards it was the residence of the queen.\nAt last, the famous Sir William Waller and the king's forces met, and\ncame to a pitched battle, where Sir William lost all his honour again.\nThis was at Roundway Down in Wiltshire. Waller had engaged our Cornish\narmy at Lansdown, and in a very obstinate fight had the better of\nthem, and made them retreat to the Devizes. Sir William Hopton,\nhowever, having a good body of foot untouched, sent expresses and\nmessengers one in the neck of another to the king for some horse, and\nthe king being in great concern for that army, who were composed of\nthe flower of the Cornish men, commanded me to march with all possible\nsecrecy, as well as expedition, with 1200 horse and dragoons from\nOxford, to join them. We set out in the depth of the night, to avoid,\nif possible, any intelligence being given of our route, and soon\njoined with the Cornish army, when it was as soon resolved to give\nbattle to Waller; and, give him his due, he was as forward to fight as\nwe. As it is easy to meet when both sides are willing to be found, Sir\nWilliam Waller met us upon Roundway Down, where we had a fair field on\nboth sides, and room enough to draw up our horse. In a word, there\nwas little ceremony to the work; the armies joined, and we charged his\nhorse with so much resolution, that they quickly fled, and quitted\nthe field; for we over-matched him in horse, and this was the entire\ndestruction of their army. For the infantry, which outnumbered ours\nby 1500, were now at our mercy; some faint resistance they made, just\nenough to give us occasion to break into their ranks with our horse,\nwhere we gave time to our foot to defeat others that stood to their\nwork, upon which they began to disband, and run every way they could;\nbut our horse having surrounded them, we made a fearful havoc of them.\nWe lost not about 200 men in this action; Waller lost about 4000\nkilled and taken, and as many dispersed that never returned to their\ncolours. Those of foot that escaped got into Bristol, and Waller, with\nthe poor remains of his routed regiments, got to London; so that it\nis plain some ran east, and some ran west, that is to say, they fled\nevery way they could.\nMy going with this detachment prevented my being at the siege of\nBristol, which Prince Rupert attacked much about the same time, and it\nsurrendered in three days. The Parliament questioned Colonel\nNathaniel Fiennes, the governor, and had him tried as a coward by a\ncourt-martial, and condemned to die, but suspended the execution also,\nas the king did the governor of Reading. I have often heard Prince\nRupert say, they did Colonel Fiennes wrong in that affair; and that if\nthe colonel would have summoned him, he would have demanded a passport\nof the Parliament, and have come up and convinced the court that\nColonel Fiennes had not misbehaved himself, and that he had not a\nsufficient garrison to defend a city of that extent; having not above\n1200 men in the town, excepting some of Waller's runaways, most of\nwhom were unfit for service, and without arms; and that the citizens\nin general being disaffected to him, and ready on the first occasion\nto open the gates to the king's forces, it was impossible for him to\nhave kept the city. \"And when I had farther informed them,\" said the\nprince, \"of the measures I had taken for a general assault the next\nday, I am confident I should have convinced them that I had taken the\ncity by storm, if he had not surrendered.\"\nThe king's affairs were now in a very good posture, and three armies\nin the north, west, and in the centre, counted in the musters about\n70,000 men besides small garrisons and parties abroad. Several of the\nlords, and more of the commons, began to fall off from the Parliament,\nand make their peace with the king; and the affairs of the Parliament\nbegan to look very ill. The city of London was their inexhaustible\nsupport and magazine, both for men, money, and all things necessary;\nand whenever their army was out of order, the clergy of their party\nin but one Sunday or two, would preach the young citizens out of their\nshops, the labourers from their masters, into the army, and recruit\nthem on a sudden. And all this was still owing to the omission I first\nobserved, of not marching to London, when it might have been so easily\neffected.\nWe had now another, or a fairer opportunity, than before, but as ill\nuse was made of it. The king, as I have observed, was in a very good\nposture; he had three large armies roving at large over the kingdom.\nThe Cornish army, victorious and numerous, had beaten Waller, secured\nand fortified Exeter, which the queen had made her residence, and\nwas there delivered of a daughter, the Princess Henrietta Maria,\nafterwards Duchess of Orleans, and mother of the Duchess Dowager of\nSavoy, commonly known in the French style by the title of Madam Royal.\nThey had secured Salisbury, Sherborne Castle, Weymouth, Winchester,\nand Basing-house, and commanded the whole country, except Bridgewater\nand Taunton, Plymouth and Lynn; all which places they held blocked\nup. The king was also entirely master of all Wales, Monmouthshire,\nCheshire, Shropshire, Staffordshire, Worcestershire, Oxfordshire,\nBerkshire, and all the towns from Windsor up the Thames to\nCirencester, except Reading and Henley; and of the whole Severn,\nexcept Gloucester.\nThe Earl of Newcastle had garrisons in every strong place in the\nnorth, from Berwick-upon-Tweed to Boston in Lincolnshire, and\nNewark-upon-Trent, Hull only excepted, whither the Lord Fairfax and\nhis son Sir Thomas were retreated, their troops being routed and\nbroken, Sir Thomas Fairfax his baggage, with his lady and servants\ntaken prisoners, and himself hardly scaping.\nAnd now a great council of war was held in the king's quarters, what\nenterprise to go upon; and it happened to be the very same day when\nthe Parliament were in a serious debate what should become of them,\nand whose help they should seek. And indeed they had cause for it; and\nhad our counsels been as ready and well-grounded as theirs, we had put\nan end to the war in a month's time.\nIn this council the king proposed the marching to London, to put an\nend to the Parliament and encourage his friends and loyal subjects in\nKent, who were ready to rise for him; and showed us letters from\nthe Earl of Newcastle, wherein he offered to join his Majesty with a\ndetachment of 4000 horse, and 8000 foot, if his Majesty thought fit\nto march southward, and yet leave forces sufficient to guard the\nnorth from any invasion. I confess, when I saw the scheme the king had\nhimself drawn for this attempt, I felt an unusual satisfaction in my\nmind, from the hopes that he might bring this war to some tolerable\nend; for I professed myself on all occasions heartily weary with\nfighting with friends, brothers, neighbours, and acquaintance, and I\nmade no question but this motion of the king's would effectually bring\nthe Parliament to reason.\nAll men seemed to like the enterprise but the Earl of Worcester, who,\non particular views for securing the country behind, as he called it,\nproposed the taking in the town of Gloucester and Hereford first. He\nmade a long speech of the danger of leaving Massey, an active bold\nfellow, with a strong party in the heart of all the king's quarters,\nready on all occasions to sally out and surprise the neighbouring\ngarrisons, as he had done Sudley Castle and others; and of the ease\nand freedom to all those western parts to have them fully cleared\nof the enemy. Interest presently backs this advice, and all those\ngentlemen whose estates lay that way, or whose friends lived about\nWorcester, Shrewsbury, Bridgnorth, or the borders, and who, as they\nsaid, had heard the frequent wishes of the country to have the city of\nGloucester reduced, fell in with this advice, alleging the consequence\nit was for the commerce of the country to have the navigation of the\nSevern free, which was only interrupted by this one town from the sea\nup to Shrewsbury, &c.\nI opposed this, and so did several others. Prince Rupert was\nvehemently against it; and we both offered, with the troops of the\ncountry, to keep Gloucester blocked up during the king's march for\nLondon, so that Massey should not be able to stir.\nThis proposal made the Earl of Worcester's party more eager for the\nsiege than before, for they had no mind to a blockade which would\nleave the country to maintain the troops all the summer; and of all\nmen the prince did not please them, for, he having no extraordinary\ncharacter for discipline, his company was not much desired even by\nour friends. Thus, in an ill hour, 'twas resolved to sit down before\nGloucester. The king had a gallant army of 28,000 men whereof 11,000\nhorse, the finest body of gentlemen that ever I saw together in my\nlife; their horses without comparison, and their equipages the finest\nand the best in the world, and their persons Englishmen, which, I\nthink, is enough to say of them.\nAccording to the resolution taken in the council of war, the army\nmarched westward, and sat down before Gloucester the beginning of\nAugust. There we spent a month to the least purpose that ever army\ndid. Our men received frequent affronts from the desperate sallies\nof an inconsiderable enemy. I cannot forbear reflecting on the\nmisfortunes of this siege. Our men were strangely dispirited in all\nthe assaults they gave upon the place; there was something looked like\ndisaster and mismanagement, and our men went on with an ill will and\nno resolution. The king despised the place, and thinking to carry it\nsword in hand, made no regular approaches, and the garrison, being\ndesperate, made therefore the greater slaughter. In this work our\nhorse, who were so numerous and so fine, had no employment. Two\nthousand horse had been enough for this business, and the enemy had no\ngarrison or party within forty miles of us, so that we had nothing to\ndo but look on with infinite regret upon the losses of our foot.\nThe enemy made frequent and desperate sallies, in one of which I had\nmy share. I was posted upon a parade, or place of arms, with part of\nmy regiment, and part of Colonel Goring's regiment of horse, in order\nto support a body of foot, who were ordered to storm the point of a\nbreastwork which the enemy had raised to defend one of the avenues to\nthe town. The foot were beat off with loss, as they always were; and\nMassey, the governor, not content to have beaten them from his works,\nsallies out with near 400 men, and falling in upon the foot as they\nwere rallying under the cover of our horse, we put ourselves in the\nbest posture we could to receive them. As Massey did not expect, I\nsuppose, to engage with any horse, he had no pikes with him, which\nencouraged us to treat him the more rudely; but as to desperate men\ndanger is no danger, when he found he must clear his hands of us,\nbefore he could despatch the foot, he faces up to us, fires but one\nvolley of his small shot, and fell to battering us with the stocks of\ntheir muskets in such a manner that one would have thought they had\nbeen madmen.\nWe at first despised this way of clubbing us, and charging through\nthem, laid a great many of them upon the ground, and in repeating our\ncharge, trampled more of them under our horses' feet; and wheeling\nthus continually, beat them off from our foot, who were just upon the\npoint of disbanding. Upon this they charged us again with their fire,\nand at one volley killed thirty-three or thirty-four men and horses;\nand had they had pikes with them, I know not what we should have done\nwith them. But at last charging through them again, we divided them;\none part of them being hemmed in between us and our own foot, were\ncut in pieces to a man; the rest as I understood afterwards, retreated\ninto the town, having lost 300 of their men.\nIn this last charge I received a rude blow from a stout fellow on\nfoot with the butt end of his musket which perfectly stunned me, and\nfetched me off from my horse; and had not some near me took care of\nme, I had been trod to death by our own men. But the fellow being\nimmediately killed, and my friends finding me alive, had taken me up,\nand carried me off some distance, where I came to myself again after\nsome time, but knew little of what I did or said that night. This was\nthe reason why I say I afterwards understood the enemy retreated; for\nI saw no more what they did then, nor indeed was I well of this blow\nfor all the rest of the summer, but had frequent pains in my head,\ndizzinesses and swimming, that gave me some fears the blow had\ninjured the skull; but it wore off again, nor did it at all hinder my\nattending my charge.\nThis action, I think, was the only one that looked like a defeat given\nthe enemy at this siege. We killed them near 300 men, as I have said,\nand lost about sixty of our troopers.\nAll this time, while the king was harassing and weakening the best\narmy he ever saw together during the whole war, the Parliament\ngenerals, or rather preachers, were recruiting theirs; for the\npreachers were better than drummers to raise volunteers, zealously\nexhorting the London dames to part with their husbands, and the city\nto send some of their trained bands to join the army for the relief of\nGloucester; and now they began to advance towards us.\nThe king hearing of the advance of Essex's army, who by this time was\ncome to Aylesbury, had summoned what forces he had within call, to\njoin him; and accordingly he received 3000 foot from Somersetshire;\nand having battered the town for thirty-six hours, and made a fair\nbreach, resolves upon an assault, if possible, to carry the town\nbefore the enemy came up. The assault was begun about seven in the\nevening, and the men boldly mounted the breach; but after a very\nobstinate and bloody dispute, were beaten out again by the besieged\nwith great loss.\nBeing thus often repulsed, and the Earl of Essex's army approaching,\nthe king calls a council of war, and proposed to fight Essex's army.\nThe officers of the horse were for fighting; and without doubt we were\nsuperior to him both in number and goodness of our horse, but the foot\nwere not in an equal condition; and the colonels of foot representing\nto the king the weakness of their regiments, and how their men had\nbeen balked and disheartened at this cursed siege, the graver counsel\nprevailed, and it was resolved to raise the siege, and retreat towards\nBristol, till the army was recruited. Pursuant to this resolution, the\n5th of September, the king, having before sent away his heavy cannon\nand baggage, raised the siege, and marched to Berkeley Castle. The\nEarl of Essex came the next day to Birdlip Hills; and understanding\nby messengers from Colonel Massey, that the siege was raised, sends\na recruit of 2500 men into the city, and followed us himself with a\ngreat body of horse.\nThis body of horse showed themselves to us once in a large field fit\nto have entertained them in; and our scouts having assured us they\nwere not above 4000, and had no foot with them, the king ordered\na detachment of about the same number to face them. I desired his\nMajesty to let us have two regiments of dragoons with us, which was\nthen 800 men in a regiment, lest there might be some dragoons among\nthe enemy; which the king granted, and accordingly we marched, and\ndrew up in view of them. They stood their ground, having, as they\nsupposed, some advantage of the manner they were posted in, and\nexpected we would charge them. The king, who did us the honour to\ncommand this party, finding they would not stir, calls me to him, and\nordered me with the dragoons, and my own regiment, to take a circuit\nround by a village to a certain lane, where in their retreat they must\nhave passed, and which opened to a small common on the flank; with\norders, if they engaged, to advance and charge them in the flank. I\nmarched immediately; but though the country about there was almost all\nenclosures, yet their scouts were so vigilant, that they discovered\nme, and gave notice to the body; upon which their whole party moved to\nthe left, as if they intended to charge me, before the king with\nhis body of horse could come. But the king was too vigilant to be\ncircumvented so; and therefore his Majesty perceiving this, sends away\nthree regiments of horse to second me, and a messenger before them, to\norder me to halt, and expect the enemy, for that he would follow with\nthe whole body.\nBut before this order reached me, I had halted for some time; for\nfinding myself discovered, and not judging it safe to be entirely\ncut off from the main body, I stopped at the village, and causing my\ndragoons to alight, and line a thick hedge on my left, I drew up my\nhorse just at the entrance into the village opening to a common.\nThe enemy came up on the trot to charge me, but were saluted with a\nterrible fire from the dragoons out of the hedge, which killed them\nnear 100 men. This being a perfect surprise to them, they halted,\nand just at that moment they received orders from their main body\nto retreat; the king at the same time appearing upon some heights in\ntheir rear, which obliged them to think of retreating, or coming to a\ngeneral battle, which was none of their design.\nI had no occasion to follow them, not being in a condition to attack\nthe whole body; but the dragoons coming out into the common, gave them\nanother volley at a distance, which reached them effectually, for it\nkilled about twenty of them, and wounded more; but they drew off, and\nnever fired a shot at us, fearing to be enclosed between two parties,\nand so marched away to their general's quarters, leaving ten or twelve\nmore of their fellows killed, and about 180 horses. Our men, after the\ncountry fashion, gave them a shout at parting, to let them see we knew\nthey were afraid of us.\nHowever, this relieving of Gloucester raised the spirits as well as\nthe reputation of the Parliament forces, and was a great defeat to us;\nand from this time things began to look with a melancholy aspect, for\nthe prosperous condition of the king's affairs began to decline. The\nopportunities he had let slip were never to be recovered, and the\nParliament, in their former extremity, having voted an invitation\nto the Scots to march to their assistance, we had now new enemies to\nencounter; and, indeed, there began the ruin of his Majesty's affairs,\nfor the Earl of Newcastle, not able to defend himself against the\nScots on his rear, the Earl of Manchester in his front, and Sir Thomas\nFairfax on his flank, was everywhere routed and defeated, and his\nforces obliged to quit the field to the enemy.\nAbout this time it was that we first began to hear of one Oliver\nCromwell, who, like a little cloud, rose out of the east, and spread\nfirst into the north, till it shed down a flood that overwhelmed the\nthree kingdoms.\nHe first was a private captain of horse, but now commanded a regiment\nwhom he armed _cap-\u00e0-pie \u00e0 la cuirassier_; and, joining with the Earl\nof Manchester, the first action we heard of him that made him anything\nfamous was about Grantham, where, with only his own regiment, he\ndefeated twenty-four troops of horse and dragoons of the king's\nforces; then, at Gainsborough, with two regiments, his own of horse\nand one of dragoons, where he defeated near 3000 of the Earl of\nNewcastle's men, killed Lieutenant-General Cavendish, brother to the\nEarl of Devonshire, who commanded them, and relieved Gainsborough; and\nthough the whole army came in to the rescue, he made good his retreat\nto Lincoln with little loss; and the next week he defeated Sir John\nHenderson at Winceby, near Horncastle, with sixteen regiments of horse\nand dragoons, himself having not half that number; killed the Lord\nWiddrington, Sir Ingram Hopton, and several gentlemen of quality. Thus\nthis firebrand of war began to blaze, and he soon grew a terror to\nthe north; for victory attended him like a page of honour, and he was\nscarce ever known to be beaten during the whole war.\nNow we began to reflect again on the misfortune of our master's\ncounsels. Had we marched to London, instead of besieging Gloucester,\nwe had finished the war with a stroke. The Parliament's army was in\na most despicable condition, and had never been recruited, had we not\ngiven them a month's time, which we lingered away at this fatal town\nof Gloucester. But 'twas too late to reflect; we were a disheartened\narmy, but we were not beaten yet, nor broken. We had a large country\nto recruit in, and we lost no time but raised men apace. In the\nmeantime his Majesty, after a short stay at Bristol, makes back again\ntowards Oxford with a part of the foot and all the horse.\nAt Cirencester we had a brush again with Essex; that town owed us\na shrewd turn for having handled them coarsely enough before, when\nPrince Rupert seized the county magazine. I happened to be in the town\nthat night with Sir Nicholas Crisp, whose regiment of horse quartered\nthere with Colonel Spencer and some foot; my own regiment was gone\nbefore to Oxford. About ten at night, a party of Essex's men beat up\nour quarters by surprise, just as we had served them before. They fell\nin with us, just as people were going to bed, and having beaten the\nout-guards, were gotten into the middle of the town before our men\ncould get on horseback. Sir Nicholas Crisp, hearing the alarm, gets\nup, and with some of his clothes on, and some off, comes into my\nchamber. \"We are all undone,\" says he, \"the Roundheads are upon us.\"\nWe had but little time to consult, but being in one of the principal\ninns in the town, we presently ordered the gates of the inn to be\nshut, and sent to all the inns where our men were quartered to do the\nlike, with orders, if they had any back-doors, or ways to get out, to\ncome to us. By this means, however, we got so much time as to get on\nhorseback, and so many of our men came to us by back ways, that we had\nnear 300 horse in the yards and places behind the house. And now we\nbegan to think of breaking out by a lane which led from the back side\nof the inn, but a new accident determined us another, though a worse\nway.\nThe enemy being entered, and our men cooped up in the yards of the\ninns, Colonel Spencer, the other colonel, whose regiment of horse lay\nalso in the town, had got on horseback before us, and engaged with\nthe enemy, but being overpowered, retreated fighting, and sends to Sir\nNicholas Crisp for help. Sir Nicholas, moved to see the distress of\nhis friend, turning to me, says he, \"What can we do for him?\" I told\nhim I thought 'twas time to help him, if possible; upon which, opening\nthe inn gates, we sallied out in very good order, about 300 horse.\nAnd several of the troops from other parts of the town joining us, we\nrecovered Colonel Spencer, and charging home, beat back the enemy to\ntheir main body. But finding their foot drawn up in the churchyard,\nand several detachments moving to charge us, we retreated in as good\norder as we could. They did not think fit to pursue us, but they took\nall the carriages which were under the convoy of this party, and laden\nwith provisions and ammunition, and above 500 of our horse, the foot\nshifted away as well as they could. Thus we made off in a shattered\ncondition towards Farringdon, and so to Oxford, and I was very glad my\nregiment was not there.\nWe had small rest at Oxford, or indeed anywhere else; for the king was\nmarched from thence, and we followed him. I was something uneasy at my\nabsence from my regiment, and did not know how the king might resent\nit, which caused me to ride after them with all expedition. But the\narmies were engaged that very day at Newbury, and I came in too late.\nI had not behaved myself so as to be suspected of a wilful shunning\nthe action; but a colonel of a regiment ought to avoid absence\nfrom his regiment in time of fight, be the excuse never so just, as\ncarefully as he would a surprise in his quarters. The truth is, 'twas\nan error of my own, and owing to two day's stay I made at the Bath,\nwhere I met with some ladies who were my relations. And this is far\nfrom being an excuse; for if the king had been a Gustavus Adolphus, I\nhad certainly received a check for it.\nThis fight was very obstinate, and could our horse have come to action\nas freely as the foot, the Parliament army had suffered much more; for\nwe had here a much better body of horse than they, and we never failed\nbeating them where the weight of the work lay upon the horse.\nHere the city train-bands, of which there was two regiments, and whom\nwe used to despise, fought very well. They lost one of their colonels,\nand several officers in the action; and I heard our men say, they\nbehaved themselves as well as any forces the Parliament had.\nThe Parliament cried victory here too, as they always did; and indeed\nwhere the foot were concerned they had some advantage; but our horse\ndefeated them evidently. The king drew up his army in battalia, in\nperson, and faced them all the next day, inviting them to renew the\nfight; but they had no stomach to come on again.\nIt was a kind of a hedge fight, for neither army was drawn out in the\nfield; if it had, 'twould never have held from six in the morning to\nten at night. But they fought for advantages; sometimes one side had\nthe better, sometimes another. They fought twice through the town, in\nat one end, and out at the other; and in the hedges and lanes, with\nexceeding fury. The king lost the most men, his foot having suffered\nfor want of the succour of their horse, who on two several occasions\ncould not come at them. But the Parliament foot suffered also, and two\nregiments were entirely cut in pieces, and the king kept the field.\nEssex, the Parliament general, had the pillage of the dead, and left\nus to bury them; for while we stood all day to our arms, having given\nthem a fair field to fight us in, their camp rabble stripped the dead\nbodies, and they not daring to venture a second engagement with us,\nmarched away towards London.\nThe king lost in this action the Earls of Carnarvon and Sunderland,\nthe Lord Falkland, a French marquis and some very gallant officers,\nand about 1200 men. The Earl of Carnarvon was brought into an inn in\nNewbury, where the king came to see him. He had just life enough\nto speak to his Majesty, and died in his presence. The king was\nexceedingly concerned for him, and was observed to shed tears at the\nsight of it. We were indeed all of us troubled for the loss of so\nbrave a gentleman, but the concern our royal master discovered, moved\nus more than ordinary. Everybody endeavoured to have the king out\nof the room, but he would not stir from the bedside, till he saw all\nhopes of life was gone.\nThe indefatigable industry of the king, his servants and friends,\ncontinually to supply and recruit his forces, and to harass and\nfatigue the enemy, was such, that we should still have given a good\naccount of the war had the Scots stood neuter. But bad news came every\nday out of the north; as for other places, parties were always in\naction. Sir William Waller and Sir Ralph Hopton beat one another by\nturns; and Sir Ralph had extended the king's quarters from Launceston\nin Cornwall, to Farnham in Surrey, where he gave Sir William Waller a\nrub, and drove him into the castle. But in the north, the storm grew\nthick, the Scots advanced to the borders, and entered England in\nconfederacy with the Parliament, against their king; for which the\nParliament requited them afterwards as they deserved.\nHad it not been for this Scotch army, the Parliament had easily\nbeen reduced to terms of peace; but after this they never made any\nproposals fit for the king to receive. Want of success before had made\nthem differ among themselves. Essex and Waller could never agree; the\nEarl of Manchester and the Lord Willoughby differed to the highest\ndegree; and the king's affairs went never the worse for it. But\nthis storm in the north ruined us all; for the Scots prevailed in\nYorkshire, and being joined with Fairfax, Manchester, and Cromwell,\ncarried all before them; so that the king was obliged to send Prince\nRupert, with a body of 4000 horse, to the assistance of the Earl of\nNewcastle, where that prince finished the destruction of the king's\ninterest, by the rashest and unaccountablest action in the world, of\nwhich I shall speak in its place.\nAnother action of the king's, though in itself no greater a cause of\noffence than the calling the Scots into the nation, gave great offence\nin general, and even the king's own friends disliked it; and was\ncarefully improved by his enemies to the disadvantage of the king, and\nof his cause.\nThe rebels in Ireland had, ever since the bloody massacre of the\nProtestants, maintained a war against the English, and the Earl of\nOrmond was general and governor for the king. The king, finding his\naffairs pinch him at home, sends orders to the Earl of Ormond to\nconsent to a cessation of arms with the rebels, and to ship over\ncertain of his regiments hither to his Majesty's assistance. 'Tis\ntrue, the Irish had deserved to be very ill treated by the English;\nbut while the Parliament pressed the king with a cruel and unnatural\nwar at home, and called in an army out of Scotland to support their\nquarrel with their king, I could never be convinced, that it was such\na dishonourable action for the king to suspend the correction of\nhis Irish rebels till he was in a capacity to do it with safety to\nhimself; or to delay any farther assistance to preserve himself at\nhome; and the troops he recalled being his own, it was no breach of\nhis honour to make use of them, since he now wanted them for his own\nsecurity against those who fought against him at home.\nBut the king was persuaded to make one step farther, and that, I\nconfess, was unpleasing to us all; and some of his best and most\nfaithful servants took the freedom to speak plainly to him of it; and\nthat was bringing some regiments of the Irish themselves over. This\ncast, as we thought, an odium upon our whole nation, being some of\nthose very wretches who had dipped their hands in the innocent blood\nof the Protestants, and, with unheard-of butcheries, had massacred so\nmany thousands of English in cool blood.\nAbundance of gentlemen forsook the king upon this score; and seeing\nthey could not brook the fighting in conjunction with this wicked\ngeneration, came into the declaration of the Parliament, and making\ncomposition for their estates, lived retired lives all the rest of\nwar, or went abroad.\nBut as exigences and necessities oblige us to do things which at other\ntimes we would not do, and is, as to man, some excuse for such things;\nso I cannot but think the guilt and dishonour of such an action must\nlie, very much of it, at least, at their doors, who drove the king\nto these necessities and distresses, by calling in an army of his\nown subjects whom he had not injured, but had complied with them in\neverything, to make war upon him without any provocation.\nAs to the quarrel between the king and his Parliament, there may\nsomething be said on both sides; and the king saw cause himself to\ndisown and dislike some things he had done, which the Parliament\nobjected against, such as levying money without consent of Parliament,\ninfractions on their privileges, and the like. Here, I say, was some\nroom for an argument at least, and concessions on both sides were\nneedful to come to a peace. But for the Scots, all their demands had\nbeen answered, all their grievances had been redressed, they had made\narticles with their sovereign, and he had performed those articles;\ntheir capital enemy Episcopacy was abolished; they had not one thing\nto demand of the king which he had not granted. And therefore they had\nno more cause to take up arms against their sovereign than they had\nagainst the Grand Seignior. But it must for ever lie against them as\na brand of infamy, and as a reproach on their whole nation that,\npurchased by the Parliament's money, they sold their honesty, and\nrebelled against their king for hire; and it was not many years\nbefore, as I have said already, they were fully paid the wages of\ntheir unrighteousness, and chastised for their treachery by the very\nsame people whom they thus basely assisted. Then they would have\nretrieved it, if it had not been too late.\nBut I could not but accuse this age of injustice and partiality, who\nwhile they reproached the king for his cessation of arms with the\nIrish rebels, and not prosecuting them with the utmost severity,\nthough he was constrained by the necessities of the war to do it,\ncould yet, at the same time, justify the Scots taking up arms in a\nquarrel they had no concern in, and against their own king, with whom\nthey had articled and capitulated, and who had so punctually complied\nwith all their demands, that they had no claim upon him, no grievances\nto be redressed, no oppression to cry out of, nor could ask anything\nof him which he had not granted.\nBut as no action in the world is so vile, but the actors can cover\nwith some specious pretence, so the Scots now passing into England\npublish a declaration to justify their assisting the Parliament. To\nwhich I shall only say, in my opinion, it was no justification at all;\nfor admit the Parliament's quarrel had been never so just, it could\nnot be just in them to aid them, because 'twas against their own king\ntoo, to whom they had sworn allegiance, or at least had crowned him,\nand thereby had recognised his authority. For if maladministration be,\naccording to Prynne's doctrine, or according to their own Buchanan, a\nsufficient reason for subjects to take up arms against their prince,\nthe breach of his coronation oath being supposed to dissolve the oath\nof allegiance, which however I cannot believe; yet this can never be\nextended to make it lawful, that because a king of England may,\nby maladministration, discharge the subjects of England from their\nallegiance, that therefore the subjects of Scotland may take up arms\nagainst the King of Scotland, he having not infringed the compact\nof government as to them, and they having nothing to complain of for\nthemselves. Thus I thought their own arguments were against them, and\nHeaven seemed to concur with it; for although they did carry the cause\nfor the English rebels, yet the most of them left their bones here in\nthe quarrel.\nBut what signifies reason to the drum and the trumpet! The Parliament\nhad the supreme argument with those men, viz., the money; and having\naccordingly advanced a good round sum, upon payment of this (for the\nScots would not stir a foot without it) they entered England on\nthe 15th of January 1643[-4], with an army of 12,000 men, under the\ncommand of old Leslie, now Earl of Leven, an old soldier of great\nexperience, having been bred to arms from a youth in the service of\nthe Prince of Orange.\nThe Scots were no sooner entered England but they were joined by all\nthe friends to the Parliament party in the north; and first, Colonel\nGrey, brother to the Lord Grey, joined them with a regiment of horse,\nand several out of Westmoreland and Cumberland, and so they advanced\nto Newcastle, which they summon to surrender. The Earl of Newcastle,\nwho rather saw than was able to prevent this storm, was in Newcastle,\nand did his best to defend it; but the Scots, increased by this time\nto above 20,000, lay close siege to the place, which was but meanly\nfortified, and having repulsed the garrison upon several sallies,\nand pressing the place very close, after a siege of twelve days, or\nthereabouts, they enter the town sword in hand. The Earl of Newcastle\ngot away, and afterwards gathered what forces together he could, but\n[was] not strong enough to hinder the Scots from advancing to Durham,\nwhich he quitted to them, nor to hinder the conjunction of the Scots\nwith the forces of Fairfax, Manchester, and Cromwell. Whereupon the\nearl, seeing all things thus going to wreck, he sends his horse\naway, and retreats with his foot into York, making all necessary\npreparations for a vigorous defence there, in case he should be\nattacked, which he was pretty sure of, as indeed afterwards happened.\nYork was in a very good posture of defence, the fortifications very\nregular, and exceeding strong; well furnished with provisions, and\nhad now a garrison of 12,000 men in it. The governor under the Earl\nof Newcastle was Sir Thomas Glemham, a good soldier, and a gentleman\nbrave enough.\nThe Scots, as I have said, having taken Durham, Tynemouth Castle,\nand Sunderland, and being joined by Sir Thomas Fairfax, who had taken\nSelby, resolve, with their united strength, to besiege York; but\nwhen they came to view the city, and saw a plan of the works, and had\nintelligence of the strength of the garrison, they sent expresses to\nManchester and Cromwell for help, who came on, and joined them with\n9000, making together about 30,000 men, rather more than less.\nNow had the Earl of Newcastle's repeated messengers convinced the\nking that it was absolutely necessary to send some forces to his\nassistance, or else all would be lost in the north. Whereupon Prince\nRupert was detached, with orders first to go into Lancashire and\nrelieve Lathom House, defended by the brave Countess of Derby, and\nthen, taking all the forces he could collect in Cheshire, Lancashire,\nand Yorkshire, to march to relieve York.\nThe prince marched from Oxford with but three regiments of horse and\none of dragoons, making in all about 2800 men. The colonels of horse\nwere Colonel Charles Goring, the Lord Byron, and myself; the dragoons\nwere of Colonel Smith. In our march we were joined by a regiment of\nhorse from Banbury, one of dragoons from Bristol, and three regiments\nof horse from Chester, so that when we came into Lancashire we were\nabout 5000 horse and dragoons. These horse we received from Chester\nwere those who, having been at the siege of Nantwich, were obliged to\nraise the siege by Sir Thomas Fairfax; and the foot having yielded,\nthe horse made good their retreat to Chester, being about 2000, of\nwhom three regiments now joined us. We received also 2000 foot from\nWest Chester, and 2000 more out of Wales, and with this strength we\nentered Lancashire. We had not much time to spend, and a great deal of\nwork to do.\nBolton and Liverpool felt the first fury of our prince; at Bolton,\nindeed, he had some provocation, for here we were like to be beaten\noff. When first the prince came to the town, he sent a summons to\ndemand the town for the king, but received no answer but from their\nguns, commanding the messenger to keep off at his peril. They had\nraised some works about the town, and having by their intelligence\nlearnt that we had no artillery, and were only a flying party (so they\ncalled us), they contemned the summons, and showed themselves upon\ntheir ramparts, ready for us. The prince was resolved to humble them,\nif possible, and takes up his quarters close to the town. In the\nevening he orders me to advance with one regiment of dragoons and my\nhorse, to bring them off, if occasion was, and to post myself as near\nas possible I could to the lines, yet so as not to be discovered;\nand at the same time, having concluded what part of the works to fall\nupon, he draws up his men on two other sides, as if he would storm\nthem there; and, on a signal, I was to begin the real assault on my\nside with my dragoons.\nI had got so near the town with my dragoons, making them creep upon\ntheir bellies a great way, that we could hear the soldiers talk on the\nwalls, when the prince, believing one regiment would be too few, sends\nme word that he had ordered a regiment of foot to help, and that I\nshould not discover myself till they were come up to me. This broke\nour measures, for the march of this regiment was discovered by the\nenemy, and they took the alarm. Upon this I sent to the prince, to\ndesire he would put off the storm for that night, and I would answer\nfor it the next day; but the prince was impatient, and sent orders we\nshould fall on as soon as the foot came up to us. The foot marched out\nof the way, missed us, and fell in with a road that leads to another\npart of the town; and being not able to find us, make an attack\nupon the town themselves; but the defendants, being ready for them,\nreceived them very warmly, and beat them off with great loss.\nI was at a loss now what to do; for hearing the guns, and by the noise\nknowing it was an assault upon the town, I was very uneasy to have my\nshare in it; but as I had learnt under the King of Sweden punctually\nto adhere to the execution of orders, and my orders being to lie still\ntill the foot came up with me, I would not stir if I had been sure to\nhave done never so much service; but, however, to satisfy myself, I\nsent to the prince to let him know that I continued in the same place\nexpecting the foot, and none being yet come, I desired farther orders.\nThe prince was a little amazed at this, and finding there must be some\nmistake, came galloping away in the dark to the place and drew off the\nmen, which was no hard matter, for they were willing enough to give it\nover.\nAs for me, the prince ordered me to come off so privately as not to\nbe discovered, if possible, which I effectually did; and so we were\nbalked for that night. The next day the prince fell on upon another\nquarter with three regiments of foot, but was beaten off with loss,\nand the like a third time. At last the prince resolved to carry it,\ndoubled his numbers, and, renewing the attack with fresh men, the foot\nentered the town over their works, killing in the first heat of the\naction all that came in their way; some of the foot at the same time\nletting in the horse, and so the town was entirely won. There was\nabout 600 of the enemy killed, and we lost above 400 in all, which was\nowing to the foolish mistakes we made. Our men got some plunder here,\nwhich the Parliament made a great noise about; but it was their due,\nand they bought it dear enough.\nLiverpool did not cost us so much, nor did we get so much by it, the\npeople having sent their women and children and best goods on board\nthe ships in the road; and as we had no boats to board them with, we\ncould not get at them. Here, as at Bolton, the town and fort was taken\nby storm, and the garrison were many of them cut in pieces, which, by\nthe way, was their own faults.\nOur next step was Lathom House, which the Countess of Derby had\ngallantly defended above eighteen weeks against the Parliament forces;\nand this lady not only encouraged her men by her cheerful and noble\nmaintenance of them, but by examples of her own undaunted spirit,\nexposing herself upon the walls in the midst of the enemy's shot,\nwould be with her men in the greatest dangers; and she well deserved\nour care of her person, for the enemy were prepared to use her very\nrudely if she fell into their hands.\nUpon our approach the enemy drew off, and the prince not only\neffectually relieved this vigorous lady, but left her a good quantity\nof all sorts of ammunition, three great guns, 500 arms, and 200 men,\ncommanded by a major, as her extraordinary guard.\nHere the way being now opened, and our success answering our\nexpectation, several bodies of foot came in to us from Westmoreland\nand from Cumberland; and here it was that the prince found means to\nsurprise the town of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, which was recovered for\nthe king by the management of the mayor of the town, and some loyal\ngentlemen of the county, and a garrison placed there again for the\nking.\nBut our main design being the relief of York, the prince advanced that\nway apace, his army still increasing; and being joined by the Lord\nGoring from Richmondshire with 4000 horse, which were the same the\nEarl of Newcastle had sent away when he threw himself into York with\nthe infantry, we were now 18,000 effective men, whereof 10,000 horse\nand dragoons; so the prince, full of hopes, and his men in good heart,\nboldly marched directly for York.\nThe Scots, as much surprised at the taking of Newcastle as at the\ncoming of their enemy, began to inquire which way they should get\nhome, if they should be beaten; and calling a council of war, they all\nagreed to raise the siege. The prince, who drew with him a great train\nof carriages charged with provision and ammunition for the relief of\nthe city, like a wary general, kept at a distance from the enemy, and\nfetching a great compass about, brings all safe into the city, and\nenters into York himself with all his army.\nNo action of this whole war had gained the prince so much honour, or\nthe king's affairs so much advantage, as this, had the prince but had\nthe power to have restrained his courage after this, and checked his\nfatal eagerness for fighting. Here was a siege raised, the reputation\nof the enemy justly stirred, a city relieved, and furnished with all\nthings necessary in the face of an army superior in a number by near\n10,000 men, and commanded by a triumvirate of Generals Leven, Fairfax,\nand Manchester. Had the prince but remembered the proceeding of the\ngreat Duke of Parma at the relief of Paris, he would have seen the\nrelieving the city was his business; 'twas the enemy's business to\nfight if possible, 'twas his to avoid it; for, having delivered the\ncity, and put the disgrace of raising the siege upon the enemy, he had\nnothing further to do but to have waited till he had seen what course\nthe enemy would take, and taken his further measures from their\nmotion.\nBut the prince, a continual friend to precipitant counsels, would hear\nno advice. I entreated him not to put it to the hazard; I told him\nthat he ought to consider if he lost the day he lost the kingdom, and\ntook the crown off from the king's head. I put him in mind that it\nwas impossible those three generals should continue long together; and\nthat if they did, they would not agree long in their counsels, which\nwould be as well for us as their separating. 'Twas plain Manchester\nand Cromwell must return to the associated counties, who would not\nsuffer them to stay, for fear the king should attempt them. That he\ncould subsist well enough, having York city and river at his back;\nbut the Scots would eat up the country, make themselves odious, and\ndwindle away to nothing, if he would but hold them at bay a little.\nOther general officers were of the same mind; but all I could say, or\nthey either, to a man deaf to anything but his own courage, signified\nnothing. He would draw out and fight; there was no persuading him to\nthe contrary, unless a man would run the risk of being upbraided with\nbeing a coward, and afraid of the work. The enemy's army lay on a\nlarge common, called Marston Moor, doubtful what to do. Some were for\nfighting the prince, the Scots were against it, being uneasy at having\nthe garrison of Newcastle at their backs; but the prince brought their\ncouncils of war to a result, for he let them know they must fight him,\nwhether they would or no; for the prince being, as before, 18,000 men,\nand the Earl of Newcastle having joined him with 8000 foot out of the\ncity, were marched in quest of the enemy, had entered the moor in view\nof their army, and began to draw up in order of battle; but the night\ncoming on, the armies only viewed each other at a distance for that\ntime. We lay all night upon our arms, and with the first of the day\nwere in order of battle; the enemy was getting ready, but part of\nManchester's men were not in the field, but lay about three miles off,\nand made a hasty march to come up.\nThe prince's army was exceedingly well managed; he himself commanded\nthe left wing, the Earl of Newcastle the right wing; and the Lord\nGoring, as general of the foot, assisted by Major-General Porter\nand Sir Charles Lucas, led the main battle. I had prevailed with the\nprince, according to the method of the King of Sweden, to place some\nsmall bodies of musketeers in the intervals of his horse, in the left\nwing, but could not prevail upon the Earl of Newcastle to do it in the\nright, which he afterwards repented. In this posture we stood facing\nthe enemy, expecting they would advance to us, which at last they\ndid; and the prince began the day by saluting them with his artillery,\nwhich, being placed very well, galled them terribly for a quarter\nof an hour. They could not shift their front, so they advanced the\nhastier to get within our great guns, and consequently out of their\ndanger, which brought the fight the sooner on.\nThe enemy's army was thus ordered; Sir Thomas Fairfax had the right\nwing, in which was the Scots horse, and the horse of his own and his\nfather's army; Cromwell led the left wing, with his own and the Earl\nof Manchester's horse, and the three generals, Leslie, old Fairfax,\nand Manchester, led the main battle.\nThe prince, with our left wing, fell on first, and, with his usual\nfury, broke like a clap of thunder into the right wing of the Scots\nhorse, led by Sir Thomas Fairfax, and, as nothing could stand in his\nway, he broke through and through them, and entirely routed them,\npursuing them quite out of the field. Sir Thomas Fairfax, with a\nregiment of lances, and about 500 of his own horse, made good the\nground for some time; but our musketeers, which, as I said, were such\nan unlooked-for sort of an article in a fight among the horse, that\nthose lances, which otherwise were brave fellows, were mowed down with\ntheir shot, and all was put into confusion. Sir Thomas Fairfax was\nwounded in the face, his brother killed, and a great slaughter was\nmade of the Scots, to whom I confess we showed no favour at all.\nWhile this was doing on our left, the Lord Goring with the main battle\ncharged the enemy's foot; and particularly one brigade commanded by\nMajor-General Porter, being mostly pikemen, not regarding the fire of\nthe enemy, charged with that fury in a close body of pikes, that they\noverturned all that came in their way, and breaking into the middle of\nthe enemy's foot, filled all with terror and confusion, insomuch that\nthe three generals, thinking all had been lost, fled, and quitted the\nfield.\nBut matters went not so well with that always unfortunate gentleman\nthe Earl of Newcastle and our right wing of horse; for Cromwell\ncharged the Earl of Newcastle with a powerful body of horse. And\nthough the earl, and those about him, did what men could do, and\nbehaved themselves with all possible gallantry, yet there was no\nwithstanding Cromwell's horse, but, like Prince Rupert, they bore down\nall before them. And now the victory was wrung out of our hands by our\nown gross miscarriage; for the prince, as 'twas his custom, too eager\nin the chase of the enemy, was gone and could not be heard of. The\nfoot in the centre, the right wing of the horse being routed by\nCromwell, was left, and without the guard of his horse; Cromwell\nhaving routed the Earl of Newcastle, and beaten him quite out of the\nfield, and Sir Thomas Fairfax rallying his dispersed troops, they fall\nall together upon the foot. General Lord Goring, like himself, fought\nlike a lion, but, forsaken of his horse, was hemmed in on all sides,\nand overthrown; and an hour after this, the prince returning, too late\nto recover his friends, was obliged with the rest to quit the field to\nconquerors.\nThis was a fatal day to the king's affairs, and the risk too much\nfor any man in his wits to run; we lost 4000 men on the spot, 3000\nprisoners, among whom was Sir Charles Lucas, Major-General Porter,\nMajor-General Tilyard, and about 170 gentlemen of quality. We lost all\nour baggage, twenty-five pieces of cannon, 3000 carriages, 150 barrels\nof powder, 10,000 arms. The prince got into York with the Earl of\nNewcastle, and a great many gentlemen; and 7000 or 8000 of the men, as\nwell horse as foot.\nI had but very coarse treatment in this fight; for returning with the\nprince from the pursuit of the right wing, and finding all lost, I\nhalted with some other officers, to consider what to do. At first we\nwere for making our retreat in a body, and might have done so well\nenough, if we had known what had happened, before we saw ourselves in\nthe middle of the enemy; for Sir Thomas Fairfax, who had got together\nhis scattered troops, and joined by some of the left wing, knowing\nwho we were, charged us with great fury. 'Twas not a time to think of\nanything but getting away, or dying upon the spot; the prince kept\non in the front, and Sir Thomas Fairfax by this charge cut off about\nthree regiments of us from our body; but bending his main strength\nat the prince, left us, as it were, behind him, in the middle of the\nfield of battle. We took this for the only opportunity we could have\nto get off, and joining together, we made across the place of battle\nin as good order as we could, with our carabines presented. In this\nposture we passed by several bodies of the enemy's foot, who stood\nwith their pikes charged to keep us off; but they had no occasion, for\nwe had no design to meddle with them, but to get from them.\nThus we made a swift march, and thought ourselves pretty secure; but\nour work was not done yet, for on a sudden we saw ourselves under a\nnecessity of fighting our way through a great body of Manchester's\nhorse, who came galloping upon us over the moor. They had, as we\nsuppose, been pursuing some of our broken troops which were fled\nbefore, and seeing us, they gave us a home charge. We received them as\nwell as we could, but pushed to get through them, which at last we did\nwith a considerable loss to them. However, we lost so many men, either\nkilled or separated from us (for all could not follow the same way),\nthat of our three regiments we could not be above 400 horse together\nwhen we got quite clear, and these were mixed men, some of one troop\nand regiment, some of another. Not that I believe many of us were\nkilled in the last attack, for we had plainly the better of the enemy,\nbut our design being to get off, some shifted for themselves one way\nand some another, in the best manner they could, and as their several\nfortunes guided them. Four hundred more of this body, as I afterwards\nunderstood, having broke through the enemy's body another way, kept\ntogether, and got into Pontefract Castle, and 300 more made northward\nand to Skipton, where the prince afterwards fetched them off.\nThese few of us that were left together, with whom I was, being now\npretty clear of pursuit, halted, and began to inquire who and who\nwe were, and what we should do; and on a short debate, I proposed we\nshould make to the first garrison of the king's that we could recover,\nand that we should keep together, lest the country people should\ninsult us upon the roads. With this resolution we pushed on westward\nfor Lancashire, but our misfortunes were not yet at an end. We\ntravelled very hard, and got to a village upon the river Wharfe, near\nWetherby. At Wetherby there was a bridge, but we understood that a\nparty from Leeds had secured the town and the post, in order to stop\nthe flying Cavaliers, and that 'twould be very hard to get through\nthere, though, as we understood afterwards, there were no soldiers\nthere but a guard of the townsmen. In this pickle we consulted what\ncourse to take. To stay where we were till morning, we all concluded,\nwould not be safe. Some advised to take the stream with our horses,\nbut the river, which is deep, and the current strong, seemed to bid\nus have a care what we did of that kind, especially in the night. We\nresolved therefore to refresh ourselves and our horses, which indeed\nis more than we did, and go on till we might come to a ford or bridge,\nwhere we might get over. Some guides we had, but they either were\nfoolish or false, for after we had rode eight or nine miles, they\nplunged us into a river at a place they called a ford, but 'twas a\nvery ill one, for most of our horses swam, and seven or eight were\nlost, but we saved the men. However, we got all over.\nWe made bold with our first convenience to trespass upon the country\nfor a few horses, where we could find them, to remount our men whose\nhorses were drowned, and continued our march. But being obliged to\nrefresh ourselves at a small village on the edge of Bramham Moor, we\nfound the country alarmed by our taking some horses, and we were no\nsooner got on horseback in the morning, and entering on the moor, but\nwe understood we were pursued by some troops of horse. There was\nno remedy but we must pass this moor; and though our horses were\nexceedingly tired, yet we pressed on upon a round trot, and recovered\nan enclosed country on the other side, where we halted. And here,\nnecessity putting us upon it, we were obliged to look out for more\nhorses, for several of our men were dismounted, and others' horses\ndisabled by carrying double, those who lost their horses getting up\nbehind them. But we were supplied by our enemies against their will.\nThe enemy followed us over the moor, and we having a woody enclosed\ncountry about us, where we were, I observed by their moving, they had\nlost sight of us; upon which I proposed concealing ourselves till we\nmight judge of their numbers. We did so, and lying close in a wood,\nthey passed hastily by us, without skirting or searching the wood,\nwhich was what on another occasion they would not have done. I found\nthey were not above 150 horse, and considering, that to let them\ngo before us, would be to alarm the country, and stop our design, I\nthought, since we might be able to deal with them, we should not meet\nwith a better place for it, and told the rest of our officers my mind,\nwhich all our party presently (for we had not time for a long debate)\nagreed to.\nImmediately upon this I caused two men to fire their pistols in the\nwood, at two different places, as far asunder as I could. This I did\nto give them an alarm, and amuse them; for being in the lane, they\nwould otherwise have got through before we had been ready, and I\nresolved to engage them there, as soon as 'twas possible. After this\nalarm, we rushed out of the wood, with about a hundred horse, and\ncharged them on the flank in a broad lane, the wood being on their\nright. Our passage into the lane being narrow, gave us some difficulty\nin our getting out; but the surprise of the charge did our work; for\nthe enemy, thinking we had been a mile or two before, had not the\nleast thoughts of this onset, till they heard us in the wood, and then\nthey who were before could not come back. We broke into the lane just\nin the middle of them, and by that means divided them; and facing to\nthe left, charged the rear. First our dismounted men, which were near\nfifty, lined the edge of the wood, and fired with their carabines upon\nthose which were before, so warmly, that they put them into a great\ndisorder. Meanwhile fifty more of our horse from the farther part of\nthe wood showed themselves in the lane upon their front. This put them\nof the foremost party into a great perplexity, and they began to face\nabout, to fall upon us who were engaged in the rear. But their\nfacing about in a lane where there was no room to wheel, as one who\nunderstands the manner of wheeling a troop of horse must imagine, put\nthem into a great disorder. Our party in the head of the lane taking\nthe advantage of this mistake of the enemy, charged in upon them, and\nrouted them entirely.\nSome found means to break into the enclosures on the other side of the\nlane, and get away. About thirty were killed, and about twenty-five\nmade prisoners, and forty very good horses were taken; all this while\nnot a man of ours was lost, and not above seven or eight wounded.\nThose in the rear behaved themselves better, for they stood our charge\nwith a great deal of resolution, and all we could do could not break\nthem; but at last our men who had fired on foot through the hedges at\nthe other party, coming to do the like here, there was no standing\nit any longer. The rear of them faced about and retreated out of\nthe lane, and drew up in the open field to receive and rally their\nfellows. We killed about seventeen of them, and followed them to the\nend of the lane, but had no mind to have any more fighting than needs\nmust, our condition at that time not making it proper, the towns round\nus being all in the enemy's hands, and the country but indifferently\npleased with us; however, we stood facing them till they thought fit\nto march away. Thus we were supplied with horses enough to remount our\nmen, and pursued our first design of getting into Lancashire. As for\nour prisoners, we let them off on foot.\nBut the country being by this time alarmed, and the rout of our army\neverywhere known, we foresaw abundance of difficulties before us; we\nwere not strong enough to venture into any great towns, and we were\ntoo many to be concealed in small ones. Upon this we resolved to halt\nin a great wood about three miles beyond the place where we had the\nlast skirmish, and sent our scouts to discover the country, and learn\nwhat they could, either of the enemy or of our friends.\nAnybody may suppose we had but indifferent quarters here, either for\nourselves or for our horses; but, however, we made shift to lie here\ntwo days and one night. In the interim I took upon me, with two more,\nto go to Leeds to learn some news; we were disguised like country\nploughmen; the clothes we got at a farmer's house, which for that\nparticular occasion we plundered; and I cannot say no blood was shed\nin a manner too rash, and which I could not have done at another time;\nbut our case was desperate, and the people too surly, and shot at us\nout of the window, wounded one man and shot a horse, which we counted\nas great a loss to us as a man, for our safety depended upon our\nhorses. Here we got clothes of all sorts, enough for both sexes, and\nthus dressing myself up _au paysan,_ with a white cap on my head, and\na fork on my shoulder, and one of my comrades in the farmer's wife's\nrusset gown and petticoat, like a woman, the other with an old crutch\nlike a lame man, and all mounted on such horses as we had taken the\nday before from the country, away we go to Leeds by three several\nways, and agreed to meet upon the bridge. My pretended country woman\nacted her part to the life, though the party was a gentleman of good\nquality, of the Earl of Worcester's family; and the cripple did as\nwell as he; but I thought myself very awkward in my dress, which made\nme very shy, especially among the soldiers. We passed their sentinels\nand guards at Leeds unobserved, and put up our horses at several\nhouses in the town, from whence we went up and down to make our\nremarks. My cripple was the fittest to go among the soldiers, because\nthere was less danger of being pressed. There he informed himself of\nthe matters of war, particularly that the enemy sat down again to the\nsiege of York; that flying parties were in pursuit of the Cavaliers;\nand there he heard that 500 horse of the Lord Manchester's men had\nfollowed a party of Cavaliers over Bramham Moor, and that entering a\nlane, the Cavaliers, who were 1000 strong, fell upon them, and killed\nthem all but about fifty. This, though it was a lie, was very pleasant\nto us to hear, knowing it was our party, because of the other part of\nthe story, which was thus: That the Cavaliers had taken possession of\nsuch a wood, where they rallied all the troops of their flying army;\nthat they had plundered the country as they came, taking all the\nhorses they could get; that they had plundered Goodman Thomson's\nhouse, which was the farmer I mentioned, and killed man, woman, and\nchild; and that they were about 2000 strong.\nMy other friend in woman's clothes got among the good wives at an\ninn, where she set up her horse, and there she heard the same sad\nand dreadful tidings; and that this party was so strong, none of\nthe neighbouring garrisons durst stir out; but that they had sent\nexpresses to York, for a party of horse to come to their assistance.\nI walked up and down the town, but fancied myself so ill disguised,\nand so easy to be known, that I cared not to talk with anybody. We\nmet at the bridge exactly at our time, and compared our intelligence,\nfound it answered our end of coming, and that we had nothing to do but\nto get back to our men; but my cripple told me, he would not stir till\nhe bought some victuals: so away he hops with his crutch, and buys\nfour or five great pieces of bacon, as many of hung beef, and two\nor three loaves; and borrowing a sack at the inn (which I suppose\nhe never restored), he loads his horse, and getting a large leather\nbottle, he filled that of aqua-vitae instead of small beer; my woman\ncomrade did the like. I was uneasy in my mind, and took no care but to\nget out of the town; however, we all came off well enough; but\n'twas well for me that I had no provisions with me, as you will hear\npresently.\nWe came, as I said, into the town by several ways, and so we went out;\nbut about three miles from the town we met again exactly where we had\nagreed. I being about a quarter of a mile from the rest, I meets three\ncountry fellows on horseback; one had a long pole on his shoulder,\nanother a fork, the third no weapon at all, that I saw. I gave them\nthe road very orderly, being habited like one of their brethren; but\none of them stopping short at me, and looking earnestly calls out,\n\"Hark thee, friend,\" says he, in a broad north-country tone, \"whar\nhast thou thilk horse?\" I must confess I was in the utmost confusion\nat the question, neither being able to answer the question, nor to\nspeak in his tone; so I made as if I did not hear him, and went on.\n\"Na, but ye's not gang soa,\" says the boor, and comes up to me, and\ntakes hold of the horse's bridle to stop me; at which, vexed at heart\nthat I could not tell how to talk to him, I reached him a great knock\non the pate with my fork, and fetched him off of his horse, and then\nbegan to mend my pace. The other clowns, though it seems they knew not\nwhat the fellow wanted, pursued me, and finding they had better heels\nthan I, I saw there was no remedy but to make use of my hands, and\nfaced about.\nThe first that came up with me was he that had no weapons, so I\nthought I might parley with him, and speaking as country-like as I\ncould, I asked him what he wanted? \"Thou'st knaw that soon,\" says\nYorkshire, \"and ise but come at thee.\" \"Then keep awa', man,\" said\nI, \"or ise brain thee.\" By this time the third man came up, and the\nparley ended; for he gave me no words, but laid at me with his long\npole, and that with such fury, that I began to be doubtful of him.\nI was loth to shoot the fellow, though I had pistols under my grey\nfrock, as well for that the noise of a pistol might bring more people\nin, the village being on our rear, and also because I could not\nimagine what the fellow meant, or would have. But at last, finding\nhe would be too many for me with that long weapon, and a hardy strong\nfellow, I threw myself off my horse, and running in with him, stabbed\nmy fork into his horse. The horse being wounded, staggered awhile, and\nthen fell down, and the booby had not the sense to get down in time,\nbut fell with him. Upon which, giving him a knock or two with my fork,\nI secured him. The other, by this time, had furnished himself with a\ngreat stick out of a hedge, and before I was disengaged from the last\nfellow, gave me two such blows, that if the last had not missed my\nhead and hit me on the shoulder, I had ended the fight and my life\ntogether. 'Twas time to look about me now, for this was a madman. I\ndefended myself with my fork, but 'twould not do. At last, in short, I\nwas forced to pistol him and get on horseback again, and with all the\nspeed I could make, get away to the wood to our men.\nIf my two fellow-spies had not been behind, I had never known what was\nthe meaning of this quarrel of the three countrymen, but my cripple\nhad all the particulars. For he being behind us, as I have already\nobserved, when he came up to the first fellow who began the fray, he\nfound him beginning to come to himself. So he gets off, and pretends\nto help him, and sets him up upon his breech, and being a very merry\nfellow, talked to him: \"Well, and what's the matter now?\" says he to\nhim. \"Ah, wae's me,\" says the fellow, \"I is killed.\" \"Not quite, mon,\"\nsays the cripple. \"Oh, that's a fau thief,\" says he, and thus they\nparleyed. My cripple got him on's feet, and gave him a dram of his\naqua-vitae bottle, and made much of him, in order to know what was the\noccasion of the quarrel. Our disguised woman pitied the fellow too,\nand together they set him up again upon his horse, and then he told\nhim that that fellow was got upon one of his brother's horses who\nlived at Wetherby. They said the Cavaliers stole him, but 'twas like\nsuch rogues. No mischief could be done in the country, but 'twas the\npoor Cavaliers must bear the blame, and the like, and thus they jogged\non till they came to the place where the other two lay. The first\nfellow they assisted as they had done t'other, and gave him a dram\nout of the leather bottle, but the last fellow was past their care,\nso they came away. For when they understood that 'twas my horse they\nclaimed, they began to be afraid that their own horses might be known\ntoo, and then they had been betrayed in a worse pickle than I, and\nmust have been forced to have done some mischief or other to have got\naway.\nI had sent out two troopers to fetch them off, if there was any\noccasion; but their stay was not long and the two troopers saw them at\na distance coming towards us, so they returned.\nI had enough of going for a spy, and my companions had enough of\nstaying in the wood for other intelligences agreed with ours, and all\nconcurred in this, that it was time to be going; however, this use we\nmade of it, that while the country thought us so strong we were in the\nless danger of being attacked, though in the more of being observed;\nbut all this while we heard nothing of our friends till the next day.\nWe heard Prince Rupert, with about 1000 horse, was at Skipton, and\nfrom thence marched away to Westmoreland.\nWe concluded now we had two or three days' time good; for, since\nmessengers were sent to York for a party to suppress us, we must have\nat least two days' march of them, and therefore all concluded we\nwere to make the best of our way. Early in the morning, therefore, we\ndecamped from those dull quarters; and as we marched through a village\nwe found the people very civil to us, and the women cried out, \"God\nbless them, 'tis pity the Roundheads should make such work with\nsuch brave men,\" and the like. Finding we were among our friends,\nwe resolved to halt a little and refresh ourselves; and, indeed, the\npeople were very kind to us, gave us victuals and drink, and took care\nof our horses. It happened to be my lot to stop at a house where\nthe good woman took a great deal of pains to provide for us; but I\nobserved the good man walked about with a cap upon his head, and very\nmuch out of order. I took no great notice of it, being very sleepy,\nand having asked my landlady to let me have a bed, I lay down and\nslept heartily. When I waked I found my landlord on another bed\ngroaning very heavily.\nWhen I came downstairs, I found my cripple talking with my landlady;\nhe was now out of his disguise, but we called him cripple still; and\nthe other, who put on the woman's clothes, we called Goody Thompson.\nAs soon as he saw me, he called me out, \"Do you know,\" says he, \"the\nman of the house you are quartered in?\" \"No, not I,\" says I. \"No; so I\nbelieve, nor they you,\" says he; \"if they did, the good wife would not\nhave made you a posset, and fetched a white loaf for you.\" \"What do\nyou mean?\" says I. \"Have you seen the man?\" says he. \"Seen him,\" says\nI; \"yes, and heard him too; the man's sick, and groans so heavily,\"\nsays I, \"that I could not lie upon the bed any longer for him.\" \"Why,\nthis is the poor man,\" says he, \"that you knocked down with your fork\nyesterday, and I have had all the story out yonder at the next door.\"\nI confess it grieved me to have been forced to treat one so roughly\nwho was one of our friends, but to make some amends, we contrived\nto give the poor man his brother's horse; and my cripple told him\na formal story, that he believed the horse was taken away from the\nfellow by some of our men, and if he knew him again, if 'twas his\nfriend's horse, he should have him. The man came down upon the news,\nand I caused six or seven horses, which were taken at the same time,\nto be shown him; he immediately chose the right; so I gave him the\nhorse, and we pretended a great deal of sorrow for the man's hurt, and\nthat we had not knocked the fellow on the head as well as took away\nthe horse. The man was so overjoyed at the revenge he thought was\ntaken on the fellow, that we heard him groan no more.\nWe ventured to stay all day at this town and the next night, and got\nguides to lead us to Blackstone Edge, a ridge of mountains which\npart this side of Yorkshire from Lancashire. Early in the morning we\nmarched, and kept our scouts very carefully out every way, who brought\nus no news for this day. We kept on all night, and made our horses do\npenance for that little rest they had, and the next morning we passed\nthe hills and got into Lancashire, to a town called Littlebrough,\nand from thence to Rochdale, a little market town. And now we thought\nourselves safe as to the pursuit of enemies from the side of York. Our\ndesign was to get to Bolton, but all the county was full of the enemy\nin flying parties, and how to get to Bolton we knew not. At last we\nresolved to send a messenger to Bolton; but he came back and told\nus he had with lurking and hiding tried all the ways that he thought\npossible, but to no purpose, for he could not get into the town. We\nsent another, and he never returned, and some time after we understood\nhe was taken by the enemy. At last one got into the town, but brought\nus word they were tired out with constant alarms, had been strictly\nblocked up, and every day expected a siege, and therefore advised us\neither to go northward where Prince Rupert and the Lord Goring ranged\nat liberty, or to get over Warrington Bridge, and so secure our\nretreat to Chester.\nThis double direction divided our opinions. I was for getting into\nChester, both to recruit myself with horses and with money, both which\nI wanted, and to get refreshment, which we all wanted; but the major\npart of our men were for the north. First they said there was their\ngeneral, and 'twas their duty to the cause, and the king's interest\nobliged us to go where we could do best service; and there was their\nfriends, and every man might hear some news of his own regiment, for\nwe belonged to several regiments. Besides, all the towns to the\nleft of us were possessed by Sir William Brereton, Warrington, and\nNorthwich, garrisoned by the enemy, and a strong party at Manchester,\nso that 'twas very likely we should be beaten and dispersed before\nwe could get to Chester. These reasons, and especially the last,\ndetermined us for the north, and we had resolved to march the\nnext morning, when other intelligence brought us to more speedy\nresolutions. We kept our scouts continually abroad to bring us\nintelligence of the enemy, whom we expected on our backs, and also to\nkeep an eye upon the country; for, as we lived upon them something\nat large, they were ready enough to do us any ill turn, as it lay in\ntheir power.\nThe first messenger that came to us was from our friends at Bolton, to\ninform us that they were preparing at Manchester to attack us. One of\nour parties had been as far as Stockport, on the edge of Cheshire, and\nwas pursued by a party of the enemy, but got off by the help of the\nnight. Thus, all things looked black to the south, we had resolved to\nmarch northward in the morning, when one of our scouts from the side\nof Manchester, assured us Sir Thomas Middleton, with some of the\nParliament forces and the country troops, making above 1200 men, were\non the march to attack us, and would certainly beat up our quarters\nthat night. Upon this advice we resolved to be gone; and, getting all\nthings in readiness, we began to march about two hours before night.\nAnd having gotten a trusty fellow for a guide, a fellow that we found\nwas a friend to our side, he put a project into my head which saved\nus all for that time; and that was, to give out in the village that\nwe were marched to Yorkshire, resolving to get into Pontefract Castle;\nand accordingly he leads us out of the town the same way we came in,\nand, taking a boy with him, he sends the boy back just at night, and\nbade him say he saw us go up the hills at Blackstone Edge; and it\nhappened very well, for this party were so sure of us, that they had\nplaced 400 men on the road to the northward to intercept our retreat\nthat way, and had left no way for us, as they thought, to get away but\nback again.\nAbout ten o'clock at night, they assaulted our quarters, but found we\nwere gone; and being informed which way, they followed upon the spur,\nand travelling all night, being moonlight, they found themselves the\nnext day about fifteen miles east, just out of their way. For we had,\nby the help of our guide, turned short at the foot of the hills, and\nthrough blind, untrodden paths, and with difficulty enough, by noon\nthe next day had reached almost twenty-five miles north, near a town\ncalled Clitheroe. Here we halted in the open field, and sent out\nour people to see how things were in the country. This part of\nthe country, almost unpassable, and walled round with hills, was\nindifferent quiet, and we got some refreshment for ourselves, but very\nlittle horse-meat, and so went on. But we had not marched far before\nwe found ourselves discovered, and the 400 horse sent to lie in wait\nfor us as before, having understood which way we went, followed us\nhard; and by letters to some of their friends at Preston, we found we\nwere beset again.\nOur guide began now to be out of his knowledge, and our scouts brought\nus word, the enemy's horse was posted before us, and we knew they were\nin our rear. In this exigence, we resolved to divide our small\nbody, and so amusing them, at least one might get off, if the other\nmiscarried. I took about eighty horse with me, among which were all\nthat I had of our own regiment, amounting to above thirty-two, and\ntook the hills towards Yorkshire. Here we met with such unpassable\nhills, vast moors, rocks, and stonyways, as lamed all our horses and\ntired our men; and some times I was ready to think we should never be\nable to get over them, till our horses failing, and jackboots being\nbut indifferent things to travel in, we might be starved before we\nshould find any road, or towns; for guide we had none, but a boy who\nknew but little, and would cry when we asked him any questions. I\nbelieve neither men nor horses ever passed in some places where we\nwent, and for twenty hours we saw not a town nor a house, excepting\nsometimes from the top of the mountains, at a vast distance. I am\npersuaded we might have encamped here, if we had had provisions, till\nthe war had been over, and have met with no disturbance; and I have\noften wondered since, how we got into such horrible places, as much\nas how we got out. That which was worse to us than all the rest, was,\nthat we knew not where we were going, nor what part of the country we\nshould come into, when we came out of those desolate crags. At\nlast, after a terrible fatigue, we began to see the western parts of\nYorkshire, some few villages, and the country at a distance looked a\nlittle like England, for I thought before it looked like old Brennus\nHill, which the Grisons call \"the grandfather of the Alps.\" We got\nsome relief in the villages, which indeed some of us had so much need\nof, that they were hardly able to sit their horses, and others were\nforced to help them off, they were so faint. I never felt so much of\nthe power of hunger in my life, for having not eaten in thirty hours,\nI was as ravenous as a hound; and if I had had a piece of horse-flesh,\nI believe I should not have had patience to have staid dressing\nit, but have fallen upon it raw, and have eaten it as greedily as a\nTartar. However I ate very cautiously, having often seen the danger of\nmen's eating heartily after long fasting.\nOur next care was to inquire our way. Halifax, they told us, was on\nour right. There we durst not think of going. Skipton was before us,\nand there we knew not how it was, for a body of 3000 horse, sent out\nby the enemy in pursuit of Prince Rupert, had been there but two days\nbefore, and the country people could not tell us whether they were\ngone, or no. And Manchester's horse, which were sent out after our\nparty, were then at Halifax, in quest of us, and afterwards marched\ninto Cheshire. In this distress we would have hired a guide, but none\nof the country people would go with us, for the Roundheads would hang\nthem, they said, when they came there. Upon this I called a fellow to\nme, \"Hark ye, friend,\" says I, \"dost thee know the way so as to bring\nus into Westmoreland, and not keep the great road from York?\" \"Ay,\nmerry,\" says he, \"I ken the ways weel enou!\" \"And you would go and\nguide us,\" said I, \"but that you are afraid the Roundheads will hang\nyou?\" \"Indeed would I,\" says the fellow. \"Why then,\" says I, \"thou\nhadst as good be hanged by a Cavalier as a Roundhead, for if thou wilt\nnot go, I'll hang thee just now.\" \"Na, and ye serve me soa,\" says the\nfellow, \"Ise ene gang with ye, for I care not for hanging; and ye'll\nget me a good horse, Ise gang and be one of ye, for I'll nere come\nheame more.\" This pleased us still better, and we mounted the fellow,\nfor three of our men died that night with the extreme fatigue of the\nlast service.\nNext morning, when our new trooper was mounted and clothed we hardly\nknew him; and this fellow led us by such ways, such wildernesses, and\nyet with such prudence, keeping the hills to the left, that we might\nhave the villages to refresh ourselves, that without him, we had\ncertainly either perished in those mountains, or fallen into the\nenemy's hands. We passed the great road from York so critically as to\ntime, that from one of the hills he showed us a party of the enemy's\nhorse who were then marching into Westmoreland. We lay still that day,\nfinding we were not discovered by them; and our guide proved the best\nscout that we could have had; for he would go out ten miles at a time,\nand bring us in all the news of the country. Here he brought us word,\nthat York was surrendered upon articles, and that Newcastle, which had\nbeen surprised by the king's party, was besieged by another army of\nScots advanced to help their brethren.\nAlong the edges of those vast mountains we passed with the help of our\nguide, till we came into the forest of Swale; and finding ourselves\nperfectly concealed here, for no soldier had ever been here all the\nwar, nor perhaps would not, if it had lasted seven years, we thought\nwe wanted a few days' rest, at least for our horses. So we resolved to\nhalt; and while we did so, we made some disguises, and sent out some\nspies into the country; but as here were no great towns, nor no post\nroad, we got very little intelligence. We rested four days, and then\nmarched again; and indeed having no great stock of money about us,\nand not very free of that we had, four days was enough for those poor\nplaces to be able to maintain us.\nWe thought ourselves pretty secure now; but our chief care was how to\nget over those terrible mountains; for having passed the great road\nthat leads from York to Lancaster, the crags, the farther northward we\nlooked, looked still the worse, and our business was all on the other\nside. Our guide told us, he would bring us out, if we would have\npatience, which we were obliged to, and kept on this slow march, till\nhe brought us to Stanhope, in the country of Durham; where some of\nGoring's horse, and two regiments of foot, had their quarters. This\nwas nineteen days from the battle of Marston Moor. The prince, who\nwas then at Kendal in Westmoreland, and who had given me over as lost,\nwhen he had news of our arrival, sent an express to me, to meet him\nat Appleby. I went thither accordingly, and gave him an account of our\njourney, and there I heard the short history of the other part of our\nmen, whom we parted from in Lancashire. They made the best of their\nway north; they had two resolute gentlemen who commanded; and being\nso closely pursued by the enemy, that they found themselves under a\nnecessity of fighting, they halted, and faced about, expecting the\ncharge. The boldness of the action made the officer who led the\nenemy's horse (which it seems were the county horse only) afraid\nof them; which they perceiving, taking the advantage of his fears,\nbravely advance, and charge them; and though they were above 200\nhorse, they routed them, killed about thirty or forty, got some\nhorses, and some money, and pushed on their march night and day; but\ncoming near Lancaster, they were so waylaid and pursued, that they\nagreed to separate, and shift every man for himself. Many of them fell\ninto the enemy's hands; some were killed attempting to pass through\nthe river Lune; some went back, six or seven got to Bolton, and about\neighteen got safe to Prince Rupert.\nThe prince was in a better condition hereabouts than I expected; he\nand my Lord Goring, with the help of Sir Marmaduke Langdale, and the\ngentlemen of Cumberland, had gotten a body of 4000 horse, and about\n6000 foot; they had retaken Newcastle, Tynemouth, Durham, Stockton,\nand several towns of consequence from the Scots, and might have cut\nthem out work enough still, if that base people, resolved to engage\ntheir whole interest to ruin their sovereign, had not sent a second\narmy of 10,000 men, under the Earl of Callander, to help their first.\nThese came and laid siege to Newcastle, but found more vigorous\nresistance now than they had done before.\nThere were in the town Sir John Morley, the Lord Crawford, Lord\nReay, and Maxwell, Scots; and old soldiers, who were resolved their\ncountrymen should buy the town very dear, if they had it; and had it\nnot been for our disaster at Marston Moor, they had never had it; for\nCallander, finding he was not able to carry the town, sends to General\nLeven to come from the siege of York to help him.\nMeantime the prince forms a very good army, and the Lord Goring, with\n10,000 men, shows himself on the borders of Scotland, to try if that\nmight not cause the Scots to recall their forces; and, I am persuaded,\nhad he entered Scotland, the Parliament of Scotland had recalled the\nEarl of Callander, for they had but 5000 men left in arms to send\nagainst him; but they were loth to venture. However, this effect it\nhad, that it called the Scots northward again, and found them work\nthere for the rest of the summer to reduce the several towns in the\nbishopric of Durham.\nI found with the prince the poor remains of my regiment, which, when\njoined with those that had been with me, could not all make up three\ntroops, and but two captains, three lieutenants, and one cornet; the\nrest were dispersed, killed, or taken prisoners. However, with those,\nwhich we still called a regiment, I joined the prince, and after\nhaving done all we could on that side, the Scots being returned from\nYork, the prince returned through Lancashire to Chester.\nThe enemy often appeared and alarmed us, and once fell on one of our\nparties, and killed us about a hundred men; but we were too many for\nthem to pretend to fight us, so we came to Bolton, beat the troops\nof the enemy near Warrington, where I got a cut with a halberd in my\nface, and arrived at Chester the beginning of August.\nThe Parliament, upon their great success in the north, thinking the\nking's forces quite unbroken, had sent their General Essex into the\nwest, where the king's army was commanded by Prince Maurice, Prince\nRupert's elder brother, but not very strong; and the king being, as\nthey supposed, by the absence of Prince Rupert, weakened so much as\nthat he might be checked by Sir William Waller, who, with 4500 foot,\nand 1500 horse, was at that time about Winchester, having lately\nbeaten Sir Ralph Hopton;--upon all these considerations, the Earl of\nEssex marches westward.\nThe forces in the west being too weak to oppose him, everything gave\nway to him, and all people expected he would besiege Exeter, where\nthe queen was newly lying-in, and sent a trumpet to desire he would\nforbear the city, while she could be removed, which he did, and passed\non westward, took Tiverton, Bideford, Barnstaple, Launceston, relieved\nPlymouth, drove Sir Richard Grenvile up into Cornwall, and followed\nhim thither, but left Prince Maurice behind him with 4000 men about\nBarnstaple and Exeter. The king, in the meantime, marches from Oxford\ninto Worcester, with Waller at his heels. At Edgehill his Majesty\nturns upon Waller, and gave him a brush, to put him in mind of the\nplace. The king goes on to Worcester, sends 300 horse to relieve\nDurley Castle, besieged by the Earl of Denby, and sending part of his\nforces to Bristol, returns to Oxford.\nHis Majesty had now firmly resolved to march into the west, not having\nyet any account of our misfortunes in the north. Waller and Middleton\nwaylay the king at Cropredy Bridge. The king assaults Middleton at the\nbridge.\nWaller's men were posted with some cannon to guard a pass. Middleton's\nmen put a regiment of the king's foot to the rout, and pursued them.\nWaller's men, willing to come in for the plunder, a thing their\ngeneral had often used them to, quit their post at the pass, and their\ngreat guns, to have part in the victory. The king coming in seasonably\nto the relief of his men, routs Middleton, and at the same time sends\na party round, who clapped in between Sir William Waller's men and\ntheir great guns, and secured the pass and the cannon too. The\nking took three colonels, besides other officers, and about 300 men\nprisoners, with eight great guns, nineteen carriages of ammunition,\nand killed about 200 men.\nWaller lost his reputation in this fight, and was exceedingly slighted\never after, even by his own party; but especially by such as were\nof General Essex's party, between whom and Waller there had been\njealousies and misunderstandings for some time.\nThe king, about 8000 strong, marched on to Bristol, where Sir William\nHopton joined him, and from thence he follows Essex into Cornwall.\nEssex still following Grenvile, the king comes to Exeter, and joining\nwith Prince Maurice, resolves to pursue Essex; and now the Earl of\nEssex began to see his mistake, being cooped up between two seas,\nthe king's army in his rear, the country his enemy, and Sir Richard\nGrenvile in his van.\nThe king, who always took the best measures when he was left to his\nown counsel, wisely refuses to engage, though superior in number, and\nmuch stronger in horse. Essex often drew out to fight, but the king\nfortifies, takes the passes and bridges, plants cannon, and secures\nthe country to keep off provisions, and continually straitens their\nquarters, but would not fight.\nNow Essex sends away to the Parliament for help, and they write to\nWaller, and Middleton, and Manchester to follow, and come up with\nthe king in his rear; but some were too far off, and could not, as\nManchester and Fairfax; others made no haste, as having no mind to it,\nas Waller and Middleton, and if they had, it had been too late.\nAt last the Earl of Essex, finding nothing to be done, and unwilling\nto fall into the king's hands, takes shipping, and leaves his army to\nshift for themselves. The horse, under Sir William Balfour, the\nbest horse officer, and, without comparison, the bravest in all the\nParliament army, advanced in small parties, as if to skirmish, but\nfollowing in with the whole body, being 3500 horse, broke through, and\ngot off. Though this was a loss to the king's victory, yet the foot\nwere now in a condition so much the worse. Brave old Skippon proposed\nto fight through with the foot and die, as he called it, like\nEnglishmen, with sword in hand; but the rest of the officers shook\ntheir heads at it, for, being well paid, they had at present no\noccasion for dying.\nSeeing it thus, they agreed to treat, and the king grants them\nconditions, upon laying down their arms, to march off free. This was\ntoo much. Had his Majesty but obliged them upon oath not to serve\nagain for a certain time, he had done his business; but this was not\nthought of; so they passed free, only disarmed, the soldiers not being\nallowed so much as their swords.\nThe king gained by this treaty forty pieces of cannon, all of brass,\n300 barrels of gunpowder, 9000 arms, 8000 swords, match and bullet in\nproportion, 200 waggons, 150 colours and standards, all the bag and\nbaggage of the army, and about 1000 of the men listed in his army.\nThis was a complete victory without bloodshed; and had the king\nbut secured the men from serving but for six months, it had most\neffectually answered the battle of Marston Moor.\nAs it was, it infused new life into all his Majesty's forces and\nfriends, and retrieved his affairs very much; but especially it\nencouraged us in the north, who were more sensible of the blow\nreceived at Marston Moor, and of the destruction the Scots were\nbringing upon us all.\nWhile I was at Chester, we had some small skirmishes with Sir William\nBrereton. One morning in particular Sir William drew up, and faced us,\nand one of our colonels of horse observing the enemy to be not, as he\nthought, above 200, desires leave of Prince Rupert to attack them\nwith the like number, and accordingly he sallied out with 200 horse. I\nstood drawn up without the city with 800 more, ready to bring him off,\nif he should be put to the worst, which happened accordingly; for, not\nhaving discovered neither the country nor the enemy as he ought, Sir\nWilliam Brereton drew him into an ambuscade; so that before he came up\nwith Sir William's forces, near enough to charge, he finds about 300\nhorse in his rear. Though he was surprised at this, yet, being a man\nof a ready courage, he boldly faces about with 150 of his men,\nleaving the other fifty to face Sir William. With this small party, he\ndesperately charges the 300 horse in his rear, and putting them into\ndisorder, breaks through them, and, had there been no greater force,\nhe had cut them all in pieces. Flushed with this success, and loth\nto desert the fifty men he had left behind, he faces about again, and\ncharges through them again, and with these two charges entirely routs\nthem. Sir William Brereton finding himself a little disappointed,\nadvances, and falls upon the fifty men just as the colonel came up to\nthem; they fought him with a great deal of bravery, but the colonel\nbeing unfortunately killed in the first charge, the men gave way, and\ncame flying all in confusion, with the enemy at their heels. As soon\nas I saw this, I advanced, according to my orders, and the enemy,\nas soon as I appeared, gave over the pursuit. This gentleman, as I\nremember, was Colonel Marrow; we fetched off his body, and retreated\ninto Chester.\nThe next morning the prince drew out of the city with about 1200 horse\nand 2000 foot, and attacked Sir William Brereton in his quarters. The\nfight was very sharp for the time, and near 700 men, on both sides,\nwere killed; but Sir William would not put it to a general engagement,\nso the prince drew off, contenting himself to have insulted him in his\nquarters.\nWe now had received orders from the king to join him; but I\nrepresenting to the prince the condition of my regiment, which was\nnow 100 men, and that, being within twenty-five miles of my father's\nhouse, I might soon recruit it, my father having got some men together\nalready, I desired leave to lie at Shrewsbury for a month, to make up\nmy men. Accordingly, having obtained his leave, I marched to Wrexham,\nwhere in two days' time I got twenty men, and so on to Shrewsbury. I\nhad not been here above ten days, but I received an express to come\naway with what recruits I had got together, Prince Rupert having\npositive orders to meet the king by a certain day. I had not mounted\n100 men, though I had listed above 200, when these orders came; but\nleaving my father to complete them for me, I marched with those I had\nand came to Oxford.\nThe king, after the rout of the Parliament forces in the west, was\nmarched back, took Barnstaple, Plympton, Launceston, Tiverton, and\nseveral other places, and left Plymouth besieged by Sir Richard\nGrenvile, met with Sir William Waller at Shaftesbury, and again at\nAndover, and boxed him at both places, and marched for Newbury. Here\nthe king sent for Prince Rupert to meet him, who with 3000 horse made\nlong marches to join him; but the Parliament having joined their three\narmies together, Manchester from the north, Waller and Essex (the\nmen being clothed and armed) from the west, had attacked the king and\nobliged him to fight the day before the prince came up.\nThe king had so posted himself, as that he could not be obliged to\nfight but with advantage, the Parliament's forces being superior in\nnumber, and therefore, when they attacked him, he galled them with\nhis cannon, and declining to come to a general battle, stood upon the\ndefensive, expecting Prince Rupert with the horse.\nThe Parliament's forces had some advantage over our foot, and took the\nEarl of Cleveland prisoner. But the king, whose foot were not above\none to two, drew his men under the cannon of Donnington Castle, and\nhaving secured his artillery and baggage, made a retreat with his foot\nin very good order, having not lost in all the fight above 300 men,\nand the Parliament as many. We lost five pieces of cannon and took\ntwo, having repulsed the Earl of Manchester's men on the north side of\nthe town, with considerable loss.\nThe king having lodged his train of artillery and baggage in\nDonnington Castle, marched the next day for Oxford. There we joined\nhim with 3000 horse and 2000 foot. Encouraged with this reinforcement,\nthe king appears upon the hills on the north-west of Newbury, and\nfaces the Parliament army. The Parliament having too many generals as\nwell as soldiers, they could not agree whether they should fight or\nno. This was no great token of the victory they boasted of, for they\nwere now twice our number in the whole, and their foot three for one.\nThe king stood in battalia all day, and finding the Parliament forces\nhad no stomach to engage him, he drew away his cannon and baggage out\nof Donnington Castle in view of their whole army, and marched away to\nOxford.\nThis was such a false step of the Parliament's generals, that all the\npeople cried shame of them. The Parliament appointed a committee to\ninquire into it. Cromwell accused Manchester, and he Waller, and so\nthey laid the fault upon one another. Waller would have been glad to\nhave charged it upon Essex, but as it happened he was not in the army,\nhaving been taken ill some days before. But as it generally is when a\nmistake is made, the actors fall out among themselves, so it was here.\nNo doubt it was as false a step as that of Cornwall, to let the king\nfetch away his baggage and cannon in the face of three armies, and\nnever fire a shot at them.\nThe king had not above 8000 foot in his army, and they above 25,000.\nTis true the king had 8000 horse, a fine body, and much superior to\ntheirs; but the foot might, with the greatest ease in the world, have\nprevented the removing the cannon, and in three days' time have taken\nthe castle, with all that was in it.\nThose differences produced their self-denying ordinance, and the\nputting by most of their old generals, as Essex, Waller, Manchester,\nand the like; and Sir Thomas Fairfax, a terrible man in the field,\nthough the mildest of men out of it, was voted to have the command\nof all their forces, and Lambert to take the command of Sir Thomas\nFairfax's troops in the north, old Skippon being Major-General.\nThis winter was spent on the enemy's side in modelling, as they called\nit, their army, and on our side in recruiting ours, and some petty\nexcursions. Amongst the many addresses I observed one from Sussex or\nSurrey, complaining of the rudeness of their soldiers, from which I\nonly observed that there were disorders among them as well as among\nus, only with this difference, that they, for reasons I mentioned\nbefore, were under circumstances to prevent it better than the\nking. But I must do the king's memory that justice, that he used all\npossible methods, by punishment of soldiers, charging, and sometimes\nentreating, the gentlemen not to suffer such disorders and such\nviolences in their men; but it was to no purpose for his Majesty to\nattempt it, while his officers, generals, and great men winked at it;\nfor the licentiousness of the soldier is supposed to be approved by\nthe officer when it is not corrected.\nThe rudeness of the Parliament soldiers began from the divisions among\ntheir officers; for in many places the soldiers grew so out of all\ndiscipline and so unsufferably rude, that they, in particular, refused\nto march when Sir William Waller went to Weymouth. This had turned to\ngood account for us, had these cursed Scots been out of our way, but\nthey were the staff of the party; and now they were daily solicited to\nmarch southward, which was a very great affliction to the king and all\nhis friends.\nOne booty the king got at this time, which was a very seasonable\nassistance to his affairs, viz., a great merchant ship, richly laden\nat London, and bound to the East Indies, was, by the seamen, brought\ninto Bristol, and delivered up to the king. Some merchants in Bristol\noffered the king \u00a340,000 for her, which his Majesty ordered should be\naccepted, reserving only thirty great guns for his own use.\nThe treaty at Uxbridge now was begun, and we that had been well beaten\nin the war heartily wished the king would come to a peace; but we all\nforesaw the clergy would ruin it all. The Commons were for Presbytery,\nand would never agree the bishops should be restored. The king was\nwillinger to comply with anything than this, and we foresaw it would\nbe so; from whence we used to say among ourselves, \"That the clergy\nwas resolved if there should be no bishop there should be no king.\"\nThis treaty at Uxbridge was a perfect war between the men of the gown,\nours was between those of the sword; and I cannot but take notice\nhow the lawyers, statesmen, and the clergy of every side bestirred\nthemselves, rather to hinder than promote the peace.\nThere had been a treaty at Oxford some time before, where the\nParliament insisting that the king should pass a bill to abolish\nEpiscopacy, quit the militia, abandon several of his faithful servants\nto be exempted from pardon, and making several other most extravagant\ndemands, nothing was done, but the treaty broke off, both parties\nbeing rather farther exasperated, than inclined to hearken to\nconditions.\nHowever, soon after the success in the west, his Majesty, to let them\nsee that victory had not puffed him up so as to make him reject the\npeace, sends a message to the Parliament, to put them in mind of\nmessages of like nature which they had slighted; and to let them know,\nthat notwithstanding he had beaten their forces, he was yet willing to\nhearken to a reasonable proposal for putting an end to the war.\nThe Parliament pretended the king, in his message, did not treat with\nthem as a legal Parliament, and so made hesitations; but after long\ndebates and delays they agreed to draw up propositions for peace to be\nsent to the king. As this message was sent to the Houses about August,\nI think they made it the middle of November before they brought the\npropositions for peace; and, when they brought them, they had no\npower to enter either upon a treaty, or so much as preliminaries for a\ntreaty, only to deliver the letter, and receive an answer.\nHowever, such were the circumstances of affairs at this time, that the\nking was uneasy to see himself thus treated, and take no notice of it:\nthe king returned an answer to the propositions, and proposed a treaty\nby commissioners which the Parliament appointed.\nThree months more were spent in naming commissioners. There was much\ntime spent in this treaty, but little done; the commissioners debated\nchiefly the article of religion, and of the militia; in the latter\nthey were very likely to agree, in the former both sides seemed\ntoo positive. The king would by no means abandon Episcopacy nor the\nParliament Presbytery; for both in their opinion were _jure divino_.\nThe commissioners finding this point hardest to adjust, went from\nit to that of the militia; but the time spinning out, the king's\ncommissioners demanded longer time for the treaty; the other sent up\nfor instructions, but the House refused to lengthen out the time.\nThis was thought an insolence upon the king, and gave all good people\na detestation of such haughty behaviour; and thus the hopes of peace\nvanished, both sides prepared for war with as much eagerness as\nbefore.\nThe Parliament was employed at this time in what they called\na-modelling their army; that is to say, that now the Independent party\n[was] beginning to prevail; and, as they outdid all the others in\ntheir resolution of carrying on the war to all extremities, so they\nwere both the more vigorous and more politic party in carrying it on.\nIndeed, the war was after this carried on with greater animosity than\never, and the generals pushed forward with a vigour that, as it\nhad something in it unusual, so it told us plainly from this time,\nwhatever they did before, they now pushed at the ruin even of the\nmonarchy itself.\nAll this while also the war went on, and though the Parliament had no\nsettled army, yet their regiments and troops were always in action;\nand the sword was at work in every part of the kingdom.\nAmong an infinite number of party skirmishings and fights this winter,\none happened which nearly concerned me, which was the surprise of the\ntown and castle of Shrewsbury. Colonel Mitton, with about 1200 horse\nand foot, having intelligence with some people in the town, on a\nSunday morning early broke into the town and took it, castle and all.\nThe loss for the quality, more than the number, was very great to\nthe king's affairs. They took there fifteen pieces of cannon, Prince\nMaurice's magazine of arms and ammunition, Prince Rupert's baggage,\nabove fifty persons of quality and officers. There was not above\neight or ten men killed on both sides, for the town was surprised, not\nstormed. I had a particular loss in this action; for all the men and\nhorses my father had got together for the recruiting my regiment were\nhere lost and dispersed, and, which was the worse, my father happening\nto be then in the town, was taken prisoner, and carried to Beeston\nCastle in Cheshire.\nI was quartered all this winter at Banbury, and went little abroad;\nnor had we any action till the latter end of February, when I was\nordered to march to Leicester with Sir Marmaduke Langdale, in order,\nas we thought, to raise a body of men in that county and Staffordshire\nto join the king.\nWe lay at Daventry one night, and continuing our march to pass the\nriver above Northampton, that town being possessed by the enemy, we\nunderstood a party of Northampton forces were abroad, and intended to\nattack us. Accordingly, in the afternoon our scouts brought us word\nthe enemy were quartered in some villages on the road to Coventry. Our\ncommander, thinking it much better to set upon them in their quarters,\nthan to wait for them in the field, resolves to attack them early in\nthe morning before they were aware of it. We refreshed ourselves in\nthe field for that day, and, getting into a great wood near the enemy,\nwe stayed there all night, till almost break of day, without being\ndiscovered.\nIn the morning very early we heard the enemy's trumpets sound to\nhorse. This roused us to look abroad, and, sending out a scout, he\nbrought us word a part of the enemy was at hand. We were vexed to\nbe so disappointed, but finding their party small enough to be dealt\nwith, Sir Marmaduke ordered me to charge them with 300 horse and 200\ndragoons, while he at the same time entered the town. Accordingly I\nlay still till they came to the very skirt of the wood where I was\nposted, when I saluted them with a volley from my dragoons out of the\nwood, and immediately showed myself with my horse on their front ready\nto charge them. They appeared not to be surprised, and received our\ncharge with great resolution; and, being above 400 men, they pushed me\nvigorously in their turn, putting my men into some disorder. In this\nextremity I sent to order my dragoons to charge them in the flank,\nwhich they did with great bravery, and the other still maintained the\nfight with desperate resolution. There was no want of courage in our\nmen on both sides, but our dragoons had the advantage, and at last\nrouted them, and drove them back to the village. Here Sir Marmaduke\nLangdale had his hands full too, for my firing had alarmed the towns\nadjacent, that when he came into the town he found them all in arms,\nand, contrary to his expectation, two regiments of foot, with about\n500 horse more. As Sir Marmaduke had no foot, only horse and dragoons,\nthis was a surprise to him; but he caused his dragoons to enter the\ntown and charge the foot, while his horse secured the avenues of the\ntown.\nThe dragoons bravely attacked the foot, and Sir Marmaduke falling\nin with his horse, the fight was obstinate and very bloody, when the\nhorse that I had routed came flying into the street of the village,\nand my men at their heels. Immediately I left the pursuit, and fell\nin with all my force to the assistance of my friends, and, after an\nobstinate resistance, we routed the whole party; we killed about\n700 men, took 350, 27 officers, 100 arms, all their baggage, and 200\nhorses, and continued our march to Harborough, where we halted to\nrefresh ourselves.\nBetween Harborough and Leicester we met with a party of 800 dragoons\nof the Parliament forces. They, found themselves too few to attack\nus, and therefore to avoid us they had gotten into a small wood; but\nperceiving themselves discovered, they came boldly out, and placed\nthemselves at the entrance into a lane, lining both sides of the\nhedges with their shot. We immediately attacked them, beat them from\ntheir hedges, beat them into the wood, and out of the wood again,\nand forced them at last to a downright run away, on foot, among the\nenclosures, where we could not follow them, killed about 100 of them,\nand took 250 prisoners, with all their horses, and came that night to\nLeicester. When we came to Leicester, and had taken up our quarters,\nSir Marmaduke Langdale sent for me to sup with him, and told me\nthat he had a secret commission in his pocket, which his Majesty had\ncommanded him not to open till he came to Leicester; that now he had\nsent for me to open it together, that we might know what it was we\nwere to do, and to consider how to do it; so pulling out his sealed\norders, we found we were to get what force we could together, and a\ncertain number of carriages with ammunition, which the governor of\nLeicester was to deliver us, and a certain quantity of provision,\nespecially corn and salt, and to relieve Newark. This town had been\nlong besieged. The fortifications of the place, together with its\nsituation, had rendered it the strongest place in England; and, as it\nwas the greatest pass in England, so it was of vast consequence to the\nking's affairs. There was in it a garrison of brave old rugged boys,\nfellows that, like Count Tilly's Germans, had iron faces, and they had\ndefended themselves with extraordinary bravery a great while, but were\nreduced to an exceeding strait for want of provisions.\nAccordingly we received the ammunition and provision, and away we went\nfor Newark; about Melton Mowbray, Colonel Rossiter set upon us, with\nabove 3000 men; we were about the same number, having 2500 horse, and\n800 dragoons. We had some foot, but they were still at Harborough, and\nwere ordered to come after us.\nRossiter, like a brave officer as he was, charged us with great fury,\nand rather outdid us in number, while we defended ourselves with all\nthe eagerness we could, and withal gave him to understand we were\nnot so soon to be beaten as he expected. While the fight continued\ndoubtful, especially on our side, our people, who had charge of the\ncarriages and provisions, began to enclose our flanks with them, as\nif we had been marching, which, though it was done without orders, had\ntwo very good effects, and which did us extraordinary service. First,\nit secured us from being charged in the flank, which Rossiter had\ntwice attempted; and secondly, it secured our carriages from being\nplundered, which had spoiled our whole expedition. Being thus\nenclosed, we fought with great security; and though Rossiter made\nthree desperate charges upon us; he could never break us. Our men\nreceived him with so much courage, and kept their order so well, that\nthe enemy, finding it impossible to force us, gave it over, and left\nus to pursue our orders. We did not offer to chase them, but contented\nenough to have repulsed and beaten them off, and our business being to\nrelieve Newark, we proceeded.\nIf we are to reckon by the enemy's usual method, we got the victory,\nbecause we kept the field, and had the pillage of their dead; but\notherwise, neither side had any great cause to boast. We lost about\n150 men, and near as many hurt; they left 170 on the spot, and carried\noff some. How many they had wounded we could not tell; we got seventy\nor eighty horses, which helped to remount some of our men that had\nlost theirs in the fight. We had, however, this advantage, that we\nwere to march on immediately after this service, the enemy only to\nretire to their quarters, which was but hard by. This was an injury to\nour wounded men, who we were after obliged to leave at Belvoir Castle,\nand from thence we advanced to Newark.\nOur business at Newark was to relieve the place, and this we resolved\nto do whatever it cost, though, at the same time, we resolved not to\nfight unless we were forced to it. The town was rather blocked up than\nbesieged; the garrison was strong, but ill-provided; we had sent them\nword of our coming to them, and our orders to relieve them, and they\nproposed some measures for our doing it. The chief strength of the\nenemy lay on the other side of the river; but they having also some\nnotice of our design, had sent over forces to strengthen their leaguer\non this side. The garrison had often surprised them by sallies, and\nindeed had chiefly subsisted for some time by what they brought in on\nthis manner.\nSir Marmaduke Langdale, who was our general for the expedition, was\nfor a general attempt to raise the siege, but I had persuaded him off\nof that; first, because, if we should be beaten, as might be probable,\nwe then lost the town. Sir Marmaduke briskly replied, \"A soldier ought\nnever to suppose he shall be beaten.\" \"But, sir,\" says I, \"you'll get\nmore honour by relieving the town, than by beating them. One will be\na credit to your conduct, as the other will be to your courage; and if\nyou think you can beat them, you may do it afterward, and then if you\nare mistaken, the town is nevertheless secured, and half your victory\ngained.\"\nHe was prevailed with to adhere to this advice, and accordingly we\nappeared before the town about two hours before night. The horse drew\nup before the enemy's works; the enemy drew up within their works, and\nseeing no foot, expected when our dragoons would dismount and attack\nthem. They were in the right to let us attack them, because of the\nadvantage of their batteries and works, if that had been our design;\nbut, as we intended only to amuse them, this caution of theirs\neffected our design; for, while we thus faced them with our horse, two\nregiments of foot, which came up to us but the night before, and\nwas all the infantry we had, with the waggons of provisions, and 500\ndragoons, taking a compass clean round the town, posted themselves on\nthe lower side of the town by the river. Upon a signal the garrison\nagreed on before, they sallied out at this very juncture with all the\nmen they could spare, and dividing themselves in two parties, while\none party moved to the left to meet our relief, the other party fell\non upon part of that body which faced us. We kept in motion, and upon\nthis signal advanced to their works, and our dragoons fired upon\nthem, and the horse, wheeling and counter-marching often, kept them\ncontinually expecting to be attacked. By this means the enemy were\nkept employed, and our foot, with the waggons, appearing on that\nquarter where they were least expected, easily defeated the advanced\nguards and forced that post, where, entering the leaguer, the other\npart of the garrison, who had sallied that way, came up to them,\nreceived the waggons, and the dragoons entered with them into the\ntown. That party which we faced on the other side of the works knew\nnothing of what was done till all was over; the garrison retreated in\ngood order, and we drew off, having finished what we came for without\nfighting. Thus we plentifully stored the town with all things wanting,\nand with an addition of 500 dragoons to their garrison; after which we\nmarched away without fighting a stroke.\nOur next orders were to relieve Pontefract Castle, another garrison\nof the king's, which had been besieged ever since a few days after the\nfight at Marston Moor, by the Lord Fairfax, Sir Thomas Fairfax, and\nother generals in their turn. By the way we were joined with 800 horse\nout of Derbyshire, and some foot, so many as made us about 4500 men in\nall.\nColonel Forbes, a Scotchman, commanded at the siege, in the absence of\nthe Lord Fairfax. The colonel had sent to my lord for more troops, and\nhis lordship was gathering his forces to come up to him, but he was\npleased to come too late. We came up with the enemy's leaguer about\nthe break of day, and having been discovered by their scouts, they,\nwith more courage than discretion, drew out to meet us. We saw no\nreason to avoid them, being stronger in horse than they; and though we\nhad but a few foot, we had 1000 dragoons, which helped us out. We had\nplaced our horse and foot throughout in one line, with two reserves\nof horse, and between every division of horse a division of foot, only\nthat on the extremes of our wings there were two parties of horse\non each point by themselves, and the dragoons in the centre on foot.\nTheir foot charged us home, and stood with push of pike a great while;\nbut their horse charging our horse and musketeers, and being closed\non the flanks, with those two extended troops on our wings, they\nwere presently disordered, and fled out of the field. The foot, thus\ndeserted, were charged on every side and broken. They retreated still\nfighting, and in good order for a while; but the garrison sallying\nupon them at the same time, and being followed close by our horse,\nthey were scattered, entirely routed, and most of them killed. The\nLord Fairfax was come with his horse as far as Ferrybridge, but the\nfight was over, and all he could do was to rally those that fled, and\nsave some of their carriages, which else had fallen into our hands. We\ndrew up our little army in order of battle the next day, expecting the\nLord Fairfax would have charged us; but his lordship was so far from\nany such thoughts that he placed a party of dragoons, with orders to\nfortify the pass at Ferrybridge, to prevent our falling upon him in\nhis retreat, which he needed not have done; for, having raised the\nsiege of Pontefract, our business was done, we had nothing to say to\nhim, unless we had been strong enough to stay.\nWe lost not above thirty men in this action, and the enemy 300, with\nabout 150 prisoners, one piece of cannon, all their ammunition, 1000\narms, and most of their baggage, and Colonel Lambert was once taken\nprisoner, being wounded, but got off again.\nWe brought no relief for the garrison, but the opportunity to furnish\nthemselves out of the country, which they did very plentifully. The\nammunition taken from the enemy was given to them, which they wanted,\nand was their due, for they had seized it in the sally they made,\nbefore the enemy was quite defeated.\nI cannot omit taking notice on all occasions how exceeding serviceable\nthis method was of posting musketeers in the intervals, among the\nhorse, in all this war. I persuaded our generals to it as much as\npossible, and I never knew a body of horse beaten that did so: yet I\nhad great difficulty to prevail upon our people to believe it, though\nit was taught me by the greatest general in the world, viz., the King\nof Sweden. Prince Rupert did it at the battle of Marston Moor; and had\nthe Earl of Newcastle not been obstinate against it in his right wing,\nas I observed before, the day had not been lost. In discoursing this\nwith Sir Marmaduke Langdale, I had related several examples of the\nserviceableness of these small bodies of firemen, and with great\ndifficulty brought him to agree, telling him I would be answerable\nfor the success. But after the fight, he told me plainly he saw the\nadvantage of it, and would never fight otherwise again if he had any\nfoot to place. So having relieved these two places, we hastened by\nlong marches through Derbyshire, to join Prince Rupert on the edge of\nShropshire and Cheshire. We found Colonel Rossiter had followed us at\na distance ever since the business at Melton Mowbray, but never cared\nto attack us, and we found he did the like still. Our general would\nfain have been doing with him again, but we found him too shy. Once\nwe laid a trap for him at Dovebridge, between Derby and\nBurton-upon-Trent, the body being marched two days before. Three\nhundred dragoons were left to guard the bridge, as if we were afraid\nhe should fall upon us. Upon this we marched, as I said, on to Burton,\nand the next day, fetching a compass round, came to a village near\nTitbury Castle, whose name I forgot, where we lay still expecting our\ndragoons would be attacked.\nAccordingly, the colonel, strengthened with some troops of horse from\nYorkshire, comes up to the bridge, and finding some dragoons posted,\nadvances to charge them. The dragoons immediately get a-horseback, and\nrun for it, as they were ordered. But the old lad was not to be caught\nso, for he halts immediately at the bridge, and would not come over\ntill he had sent three or four flying parties abroad to discover the\ncountry. One of these parties fell into our hands, and received but\ncoarse entertainment. Finding the plot would not take, we appeared and\ndrew up in view of the bridge, but he would not stir. So we continued\nour march into Cheshire, where we joined Prince Rupert and Prince\nMaurice, making together a fine body, being above 8000 horse and\ndragoons.\nThis was the best and most successful expedition I was in during this\nwar. 'Twas well concerted, and executed with as much expedition and\nconduct as could be desired, and the success was answerable to it. And\nindeed, considering the season of the year (for we set out from Oxford\nthe latter end of February), the ways bad, and the season wet, it\nwas a terrible march of above 200 miles, in continual action, and\ncontinually dodged and observed by a vigilant enemy, and at a time\nwhen the north was overrun by their armies, and the Scots wanting\nemployment for their forces. Yet in less than twenty-three days we\nmarched 200 miles, fought the enemy in open field four times, relieved\none garrison besieged, and raised the siege of another, and joined our\nfriends at last in safety.\nThe enemy was in great pain for Sir William Brereton and his forces,\nand expresses rode night and day to the Scots in the north, and to the\nparties in Lancashire to come to his help. The prince, who used to be\nrather too forward to fight than otherwise, could not be persuaded to\nmake use of this opportunity, but loitered, if I may be allowed to say\nso, till the Scots, with a brigade of horse and 2000 foot, had joined\nhim; and then 'twas not thought proper to engage them.\nI took this opportunity to go to Shrewsbury to visit my father, who\nwas a prisoner of war there, getting a pass from the enemy's governor.\nThey allowed him the liberty of the town, and sometimes to go to his\nown house upon his parole, so that his confinement was not very much\nto his personal injury. But this, together with the charges he had\nbeen at in raising the regiment, and above \u00a320,000 in money and plate,\nwhich at several times he had lent, or given rather to the king, had\nreduced our family to very ill circumstances; and now they talked of\ncutting down his woods.\nI had a great deal of discourse with my father on this affair; and,\nfinding him extremely concerned, I offered to go to the king and\ndesire his leave to go to London and treat about his composition, or\nto render myself a prisoner in his stead, while he went up himself.\nIn this difficulty I treated with the governor of the town, who very\ncivilly offered me his pass to go for London, which I accepted, and,\nwaiting on Prince Rupert, who was then at Worcester, I acquainted him\nwith my design. The prince was unwilling I should go to London;\nbut told me he had some prisoners of the Parliament's friends in\nCumberland, and he would get an exchange for my father. I told him\nif he would give me his word for it I knew I might depend upon it,\notherwise there was so many of the king's party in their hands, that\nhis Majesty was tired with solicitations for exchanges, for we never\nhad a prisoner but there was ten offers of exchanges for him. The\nprince told me I should depend upon him; and he was as good as his\nword quickly after.\nWhile the prince lay at Worcester he made an incursion into\nHerefordshire, and having made some of the gentlemen prisoners,\nbrought them to Worcester; and though it was an action which had not\nbeen usual, they being persons not in arms, yet the like being my\nfather's case, who was really not in commission, nor in any military\nservice, having resigned his regiment three years before to me, the\nprince insisted on exchanging them for such as the Parliament had\nin custody in like circumstances. The gentlemen seeing no remedy,\nsolicited their own case at the Parliament, and got it passed in\ntheir behalf; and by this means my father got his liberty, and by the\nassistance of the Earl of Denbigh got leave to come to London to make\na composition as a delinquent for his estate. This they charged at\n\u00a37000, but by the assistance of the same noble person he got off for\n\u00a34000. Some members of the committee moved very kindly that my father\nshould oblige me to quit the king's service, but that, as a thing\nwhich might be out of his power, was not insisted on.\nThe modelling the Parliament army took them up all this winter, and\nwe were in great hopes the divisions which appeared amongst them might\nhave weakened their party; but when they voted Sir Thomas Fairfax to\nbe general, I confess I was convinced the king's affairs were lost and\ndesperate. Sir Thomas, abating the zeal of his party, and the mistaken\nopinion of his cause, was the fittest man amongst them to undertake\nthe charge. He was a complete general, strict in his discipline, wary\nin conduct, fearless in action, unwearied in the fatigue of the\nwar, and withal, of a modest, noble, generous disposition. We all\napprehended danger from him, and heartily wished him of our own side;\nand the king was so sensible, though he would not discover it, that\nwhen an account was brought him of the choice they had made, he\nreplied, \"he was sorry for it; he had rather it had been anybody than\nhe.\"\nThe first attempts of this new general and new army were at Oxford,\nwhich, by the neighbourhood of a numerous garrison in Abingdon, began\nto be very much straitened for provisions; and the new forces under\nCromwell and Skippon, one lieutenant-general, the other major-general\nto Fairfax, approaching with a design to block it up, the king left\nthe place, supposing his absence would draw them away, as it soon did.\nThe king resolving to leave Oxford, marches from thence with all his\nforces, the garrison excepted, with design to have gone to Bristol;\nbut the plague was in Bristol, which altered the measures, and changed\nthe course of the king's designs, so he marched for Worcester about\nthe beginning of June 1645. The foot, with a train of forty pieces of\ncannon, marching into Worcester, the horse stayed behind some time in\nGloucestershire.\nThe first action our army did, was to raise the siege of Chester; Sir\nWilliam Brereton had besieged it, or rather blocked it up, and when\nhis Majesty came to Worcester, he sent Prince Rupert with 4000 horse\nand dragoons, with orders to join some foot out of Wales, to raise the\nsiege; but Sir William thought fit to withdraw, and not stay for them,\nand the town was freed without fighting. The governor took care in\nthis interval to furnish himself with all things necessary for another\nsiege; and, as for ammunition and other necessaries, he was in no\nwant.\nI was sent with a party into Staffordshire, with design to intercept\na convoy of stores coming from London, for the use of Sir William\nBrereton; but they having some notice of the design, stopped, and went\nout of the road to Burton-upon-Trent, and so I missed them; but that\nwe might not come back quite empty, we attacked Hawkesley House, and\ntook it, where we got good booty, and brought eighty prisoners back to\nWorcester. From Worcester the king advanced into Shropshire, and took\nhis headquarters at Bridgnorth. This was a very happy march of the\nking's, and had his Majesty proceeded, he had certainly cleared the\nnorth once more of his enemies, for the country was generally for him.\nAt his advancing so far as Bridgnorth, Sir William Brereton fled up\ninto Lancashire; the Scots brigades who were with him retreated into\nthe north, while yet the king was above forty miles from them, and all\nthings lay open for conquest. The new generals, Fairfax and Cromwell,\nlay about Oxford, preparing as if they would besiege it, and gave\nthe king's army so much leisure, that his Majesty might have been at\nNewcastle before they could have been half way to him. But Heaven,\nwhen the ruin of a person or party is determined, always so infatuates\ntheir counsels as to make them instrumental to it themselves.\nThe king let slip this great opportunity, as some thought, intending\nto break into the associated counties of Northampton, Cambridge,\nNorfolk, where he had some interests forming. What the design was,\nwe knew not, but the king turns eastward, and marches into\nLeicestershire, and having treated the country but very indifferently,\nas having deserved no better of us, laid siege to Leicester.\nThis was but a short siege; for the king, resolving not to lose time,\nfell on with his great guns, and having beaten down their works, our\nfoot entered, after a vigorous resistance, and took the town by storm.\nThere was some blood shed here, the town being carried by assault; but\nit was their own faults; for after the town was taken, the soldiers\nand townsmen obstinately fought us in the market-place; insomuch that\nthe horse was called to enter the town to clear the streets. But this\nwas not all; I was commanded to advance with these horse, being three\nregiments, and to enter the town; the foot, who were engaged in the\nstreets, crying out, \"Horse, horse.\" Immediately I advanced to the\ngate, for we were drawn up about musket-shot from the works, to have\nsupported our foot in case of a sally. Having seized the gate, I\nplaced a guard of horse there, with orders to let nobody pass in\nor out, and dividing my troops, rode up by two ways towards the\nmarket-place. The garrison defending themselves in the market-place,\nand in the churchyard with great obstinacy, killed us a great many\nmen; but as soon as our horse appeared they demanded quarter, which\nour foot refused them in the first heat, as is frequent in all\nnations, in like cases, till at last they threw down their arms, and\nyielded at discretion; and then I can testify to the world, that fair\nquarter was given them. I am the more particular in this relation,\nhaving been an eye-witness of the action, because the king was\nreproached in all the public libels, with which those times abounded,\nfor having put a great many to death, and hanged the committee of\nthe Parliament, and some Scots, in cold blood, which was a notorious\nforgery; and as I am sure there was no such thing done, so I must\nacknowledge I never saw any inclination in his Majesty to cruelty, or\nto act anything which was not practised by the general laws of war,\nand by men of honour in all nations.\nBut the matter of fact, in respect to the garrison, was as I have\nrelated; and, if they had thrown down their arms sooner, they had had\nmercy sooner; but it was not for a conquering army, entering a town by\nstorm, to offer conditions of quarter in the streets.\nAnother circumstance was, that a great many of the inhabitants, both\nmen and women, were killed, which is most true; and the case was thus:\nthe inhabitants, to show their over-forward zeal to defend the town,\nfought in the breach; nay, the very women, to the honour of the\nLeicester ladies, if they like it, officiously did their parts; and\nafter the town was taken, and when, if they had had any brains in\ntheir zeal, they would have kept their houses, and been quiet, they\nfired upon our men out of their windows, and from the tops of their\nhouses, and threw tiles upon their heads; and I had several of my men\nwounded so, and seven or eight killed. This exasperated us to the last\ndegree; and, finding one house better manned than ordinary, and many\nshot fired at us out of the windows, I caused my men to attack it,\nresolved to make them an example for the rest; which they did, and\nbreaking open the doors, they killed all they found there, without\ndistinction; and I appeal to the world if they were to blame. If the\nParliament committee, or the Scots deputies were here, they ought to\nhave been quiet, since the town was taken; but they began with us,\nand, I think, brought it upon themselves. This is the whole case, so\nfar as came within my knowledge, for which his Majesty was so much\nabused.\nWe took here Colonel Gray and Captain Hacker, and about 300 prisoners,\nand about 300 more were killed. This was the last day of May 1645.\nHis Majesty having given over Oxford for lost, continued here some\ndays, viewed the town, ordered the fortifications to be augmented,\nand prepares to make it the seat of war. But the Parliament, roused at\nthis appearance of the king's army, orders their general to raise the\nsiege of Oxford, where the garrison had, in a sally, ruined some of\ntheir works, and killed them 150 men, taking several prisoners, and\ncarrying them with them into the city; and orders him to march towards\nLeicester, to observe the king.\nThe king had now a small, but gallant army, all brave tried soldiers,\nand seemed eager to engage the new-modelled army; and his Majesty,\nhearing that Sir Thomas Fairfax, having raised the siege of Oxford,\nadvanced towards him, fairly saves him the trouble of a long march,\nand meets him half way.\nThe army lay at Daventry, and Fairfax at Towcester, about eight miles\noff. Here the king sends away 600 horse, with 3000 head of cattle, to\nrelieve his people in Oxford; the cattle he might have spared better\nthan the men. The king having thus victualled Oxford, changes his\nresolution of fighting Fairfax, to whom Cromwell was now joined with\n4000 men, or was within a day's march, and marches northward. This\nwas unhappy counsel, because late given. Had we marched northward\nat first, we had done it; but thus it was. Now we marched with a\ntriumphing enemy at our heels, and at Naseby their advanced parties\nattacked our rear. The king, upon this, alters his resolution again,\nand resolves to fight, and at midnight calls us up at Harborough to\ncome to a council of war. Fate and the king's opinion determined the\ncouncil of war; and 'twas resolved to fight. Accordingly the van, in\nwhich was Prince Rupert's brigade of horse, of which my regiment was a\npart, counter-marched early in the morning.\nBy five o'clock in the morning, the whole army, in order of battle,\nbegan to descry the enemy from the rising grounds, about a mile from\nNaseby, and moved towards them. They were drawn up on a little ascent\nin a large common fallow field, in one line extended from one side of\nthe field to the other, the field something more than a mile over, our\narmy in the same order, in one line, with the reserve.\nThe king led the main battle of foot, Prince Rupert the right wing of\nthe horse, and Sir Marmaduke Langdale the left. Of the enemy Fairfax\nand Skippon led the body, Cromwell and Rossiter the right, and Ireton\nthe left, the numbers of both armies so equal, as not to differ 500\nmen, save that the king had most horse by about 1000, and Fairfax most\nfoot by about 500. The number was in each army about 18,000 men. The\narmies coming close up, the wings engaged first. The prince with\nhis right wing charged with his wonted fury, and drove all the\nParliament's wing of horse, one division excepted, clear out of the\nfield; Ireton, who commanded this wing, give him his due, rallied\noften, and fought like a lion; but our wing bore down all before them,\nand pursued them with a terrible execution.\nIreton seeing one division of his horse left, repaired to them, and\nkeeping his ground, fell foul of a brigade of our foot, who coming up\nto the head of the line, he like a madman charges them with his horse.\nBut they with their pikes tore him to pieces; so that this division\nwas entirely ruined. Ireton himself, thrust through the thigh with\na pike, wounded in the face with a halberd, was unhorsed and taken\nprisoner.\nCromwell, who commanded the Parliament's right wing, charged Sir\nMarmaduke Langdale with extraordinary fury, but he, an old tried\nsoldier, stood firm, and received the charge with equal gallantry,\nexchanging all their shot, carabines and pistols and then fell on\nsword in hand. Rossiter and Whalley had the better on the point of\nthe wing, and routed two divisions of horse, pushed them behind the\nreserves, where they rallied and charged again, but were at last\ndefeated; the rest of the horse, now charged in the flank, retreated\nfighting, and were pushed behind the reserves of foot.\nWhile this was doing the foot engaged with equal fierceness, and for\ntwo hours there was a terrible fire. The king's foot, backed with\ngallant officers, and full of rage at the rout of their horse,\nbore down the enemy's brigade led by Skippon. The old man, wounded,\nbleeding, retreats to their reserves. All the foot, except the\ngeneral's brigade, were thus driven into the reserves, where their\nofficers rallied them, and bring them on to a fresh charge; and here\nthe horse, having driven our horse above a quarter of a mile from the\nfoot, face about, and fall in on the rear of the foot.\nHad our right wing done thus, the day had been secured; but Prince\nRupert, according to his custom, following the flying enemy, never\nconcerned himself with the safety of those behind; and yet he returned\nsooner than he had done in like cases too. At our return we found\nall in confusion, our foot broken, all but one brigade, which, though\ncharged in the front, flank, and rear, could not be broken till Sir\nThomas Fairfax himself came up to the charge with fresh men, and then\nthey were rather cut in pieces than beaten, for they stood with their\npikes charged every way to the last extremity.\nIn this condition, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, we saw the\nking rallying his horse, and preparing to renew the fight; and our\nwing of horse coming up to him, gave him opportunity to draw up a\nlarge body of horse, so large that all the enemy's horse facing us\nstood still and looked on, but did not think fit to charge us till\ntheir foot, who had entirely broken our main battle, were put in order\nagain, and brought up to us.\nThe officers about the king advised his Majesty rather to draw off;\nfor, since our foot were lost, it would be too much odds to expose the\nhorse to the fury of their whole army, and would but be sacrificing\nhis best troops without any hopes of success. The king, though with\ngreat regret at the loss of his foot, yet seeing there was no other\nhope, took this advice, and retreated in good order to Harborough, and\nfrom thence to Leicester.\nThis was the occasion of the enemy having so great a number of\nprisoners; for the horse being thus gone off, the foot had no means\nto make their retreat, and were obliged to yield themselves.\nCommissary-General Ireton being taken by a captain of foot, makes the\ncaptain his prisoner, to save his life, and gives him his liberty for\nhis courtesy before.\nCromwell and Rossiter, with all the enemy's horse, followed us as far\nas Leicester, and killed all that they could lay hold on straggling\nfrom the body, but durst not attempt to charge us in a body. The\nking, expecting the enemy would come to Leicester, removes to\nAshby-de-la-Zouch, where we had some time to recollect ourselves.\nThis was the most fatal action of the whole war, not so much for\nthe loss of our cannon, ammunition, and baggage, of which the enemy\nboasted so much, but as it was impossible for the king ever to\nretrieve it. The foot, the best that ever he was master of, could\nnever be supplied; his army in the west was exposed to certain ruin,\nthe north overrun with the Scots; in short, the case grew desperate,\nand the king was once upon the point of bidding us all disband, and\nshift for ourselves.\nWe lost in this fight not above 2000 slain, and the Parliament near\nas many, but the prisoners were a great number; the whole body of foot\nbeing, as I have said, dispersed, there were 4500 prisoners, besides\n400 officers, 2000 horses, 12 pieces of cannon, 40 barrels of powder,\nall the king's baggage, coaches, most of his servants, and his\nsecretary, with his cabinet of letters, of which the Parliament\nmade great improvement, and basely enough caused his private\nletters--between his Majesty and the queen, her Majesty's letters to\nthe king, and a great deal of such stuff--to be printed.\nAfter this fatal blow, being retreated, as I have said, to\nAshby-de-la-Zouch in Leicestershire, the king ordered us to divide;\nhis Majesty, with a body of horse, about 3000, went to Lichfield, and\nthrough Cheshire into North Wales, and Sir Marmaduke Langdale, with\nabout 2500, went to Newark.\nThe king remained in Wales for several months; and though the length\nof the war had almost drained that country of men, yet the king\nraised a great many men there, recruited his horse regiments, and got\ntogether six or seven regiments of foot, which seemed to look like the\nbeginning of a new army.\nI had frequent discourses with his Majesty in this low ebb of his\naffairs, and he would often wish he had not exposed his army at\nNaseby. I took the freedom once to make a proposition to his Majesty,\nwhich, if it had taken effect, I verily believe would have given a new\nturn to his affairs; and that was, at once to slight all his garrisons\nin the kingdom, and give private orders to all the soldiers in every\nplace, to join in bodies, and meet at two general rendezvous, which I\nwould have appointed to be, one at Bristol, and one at West Chester.\nI demonstrated how easily all the forces might reach these two places;\nand both being strong and wealthy places, and both seaports, he would\nhave a free communication by sea with Ireland, and with his friends\nabroad; and having Wales entirely his own, he might yet have an\nopportunity to make good terms for himself, or else have another fair\nfield with the enemy.\nUpon a fair calculation of his troops in several garrisons and small\nbodies dispersed about, I convinced the king, by his own accounts,\nthat he might have two complete armies, each of 25,000 foot, 8000\nhorse, and 2000 dragoons; that the Lord Goring and the Lord Hopton\nmight ship all their forces, and come by sea in two tides, and be\nwith him in a shorter time than the enemy could follow. With two such\nbodies he might face the enemy, and make a day of it; but now his men\nwere only sacrificed, and eaten up by piecemeal in a party-war,\nand spent their lives and estates to do him no service. That if the\nParliament garrisoned the towns and castles he should quit, they would\nlessen their army, and not dare to see him in the field: and if they\ndid not, but left them open, then 'twould be no loss to him, but he\nmight possess them as often as he pleased.\nThis advice I pressed with such arguments, that the king was once\ngoing to despatch orders for the doing it; but to be irresolute in\ncounsel is always the companion of a declining fortune; the king was\ndoubtful, and could not resolve till it was too late.\nAnd yet, though the king's forces were very low, his Majesty was\nresolved to make one adventure more, and it was a strange one; for,\nwith but a handful of men, he made a desperate march, almost 250 miles\nin the middle of the whole kingdom, compassed about with armies and\nparties innumerable, traversed the heart of his enemy's country,\nentered their associated counties, where no army had ever yet come,\nand in spite of all their victorious troops facing and following him,\nalarmed even London itself and returned safe to Oxford.\nHis Majesty continued in Wales from the battle at Naseby till the 5th\nor 6th of August, and till he had an account from all parts of the\nprogress of his enemies, and the posture of his own affairs.\nHere we found, that the enemy being hard pressed in Somersetshire by\nthe Lord Goring, and Lord Hopton's forces, who had taken Bridgewater,\nand distressed Taunton, which was now at the point of surrender,\nthey had ordered Fairfax and Cromwell, and the whole army, to march\nwestward to relieve the town; which they did, and Goring's troops were\nworsted, and himself wounded at the fight at Langport.\nThe Scots, who were always the dead weight upon the king's affairs,\nhaving no more work to do in the north, were, at the Parliament's\ndesire, advanced southward, and then ordered away towards South Wales,\nand were set down to the siege of Hereford. Here this famous Scotch\narmy spent several months in a fruitless siege, ill provided of\nammunition, and worse with money; and having sat near three months\nbefore the town, and done little but eaten up the country round them,\nupon the repeated accounts of the progress of the Marquis of Montrose\nin that kingdom, and pressing instances of their countrymen, they\nresolved to raise their siege, and go home to relieve their friends.\nThe king, who was willing to be rid of the Scots, upon good terms, and\ntherefore to hasten them, and lest they should pretend to push on the\nsiege to take the town first, gives it out, that he was resolved with\nall his forces to go into Scotland, and join Montrose; and so having\nsecured Scotland, to renew the war from thence.\nAnd accordingly his Majesty marches northwards, with a body of 4000\nhorse; and, had the king really done this, and with that body of horse\nmarched away (for he had the start of all his enemies, by above a\nfortnight's march), he had then had the fairest opportunity for a\ngeneral turn of all his affairs, that he ever had in all the latter\npart of this war. For Montrose, a gallant daring soldier, who from\nthe least shadow of force in the farthest corner of this country, had,\nrolling like a snowball, spread all over Scotland, was come into\nthe south parts, and had summoned Edinburgh, frighted away their\nstatesmen, beaten their soldiers at Dundee and other places; and\nletters and messengers in the heels of one another, repeated their\ncries to their brethren in England, to lay before them the sad\ncondition of the country, and to hasten the army to their relief. The\nScots lords of the enemy's party fled to Berwick, and the chancellor\nof Scotland goes himself to General Leslie, to press him for help.\nIn this extremity of affairs Scotland lay when we marched out of\nWales. The Scots, at the siege of Hereford, hearing the king was gone\nnorthward with his horse, conclude he was gone directly for Scotland,\nand immediately send Leslie with 4000 horse and foot to follow, but\ndid not yet raise the siege. But the king, still irresolute, turns\naway to the eastward, and comes to Lichfield, where he showed his\nresentments at Colonel Hastings for his easy surrender of Leicester.\nIn this march the enemy took heart. We had troops of horse on every\nside upon us like hounds started at a fresh stag. Leslie, with the\nScots, and a strong body followed in our rear, Major-General Poyntz,\nSir John Gell, Colonel Rossiter, and others in our way; they pretended\nto be 10,000 horse, and yet never durst face us. The Scots made one\nattempt upon a troop which stayed a little behind, and took some\nprisoners; but when a regiment of our horse faced them they retired.\nAt a village near Lichfield another party of about 1000 horse attacked\nmy regiment. We were on the left of the army, and at a little too\nfar a distance. I happened to be with the king at that time, and\nmy lieutenant-colonel with me, so that the major had charge of the\nregiment. He made a very handsome defence, but sent messengers for\nspeedy relief. We were on a march, and therefore all ready, and the\nking orders me a regiment of dragoons and 300 horse, and the body\nhalted to bring us off, not knowing how strong the enemy might be.\nWhen I came to the place I found my major hard laid to, but fighting\nlike a lion. The enemy had broke in upon him in two places, and had\nrouted one troop, cutting them off from the body, and had made them\nall prisoners. Upon this I fell in with the 300 horse, and cleared\nmy major from a party who charged him in the flank; the dragoons\nimmediately lighting, one party of them comes up on my wing, and\nsaluting the enemy with their muskets, put them to a stand, the other\nparty of dragoons wheeling to the left endeavouring to get behind\nthem. The enemy, perceiving they should be overpowered, retreated in\nas good order as they could, but left us most of our prisoners, and\nabout thirty of their own. We lost about fifteen of our men, and\nthe enemy about forty, chiefly by the fire of our dragoons in their\nretreat.\nIn this posture we continued our march; and though the king halted\nat Lichfield--which was a dangerous article, having so many of the\nenemy's troops upon his hands, and this time gave them opportunity to\nget into a body--yet the Scots, with their General Leslie, resolving\nfor the north, the rest of the troops were not able to face us, till,\nhaving ravaged the enemy's country through Staffordshire, Warwick,\nLeicester, and Nottinghamshire, we came to the leaguer before Newark.\nThe king was once more in the mind to have gone into Scotland, and\ncalled a council of war to that purpose; but then it was resolved by\nall hands that it would be too late to attempt it, for the Scots and\nMajor-General Poyntz were before us, and several strong bodies\nof horse in our rear; and there was no venturing now, unless any\nadvantage presented to rout one of those parties which attended us.\nUpon these and like considerations we resolved for Newark; on our\napproach the forces which blocked up that town drew off, being too\nweak to oppose us, for the king was now above 5000 horse and dragoons,\nbesides 300 horse and dragoons he took with him from Newark.\nWe halted at Newark to assist the garrison, or give them time rather\nto furnish themselves from the country with what they wanted, which\nthey were very diligent in doing; for in two days' time they filled\na large island which lies under the town, between the two branches of\nthe Trent, with sheep, oxen, cows, and horses, an incredible number;\nand our affairs being now something desperate, we were not very\nnice in our usage of the country, for really if it was not with a\nresolution both to punish the enemy and enrich ourselves, no man can\ngive any rational account why this desperate journey was undertaken.\n'Tis certain the Newarkers, in the respite they gained by our coming,\ngot above \u00a350,000 from the country round them in corn, cattle, money,\nand other plunder.\nFrom hence we broke into Lincolnshire, and the king lay at Belvoir\nCastle, and from Belvoir Castle to Stamford. The swiftness of our\nmarch was a terrible surprise to the enemy; for our van being at a\nvillage on the great road called Stilton, the country people fled\ninto the Isle of Ely, and every way, as if all was lost. Indeed our\ndragoons treated the country very coarsely, and all our men in general\nmade themselves rich. Between Stilton and Huntingdon we had a small\nbustle with some of the associated troops of horse, but they were soon\nrouted, and fled to Huntingdon, where they gave such an account of us\nto their fellows that they did not think fit to stay for us, but left\ntheir foot to defend themselves as well as they could.\nWhile this was doing in the van a party from Burleigh House, near\nStamford, the seat of the Earl of Exeter, pursued four troops of\nour horse, who, straggling towards Peterborough, and committing some\ndisorders there, were surprised before they could get into a posture\nof fighting; and encumbered, as I suppose, with their plunder, they\nwere entirely routed, lost most of their horses, and were forced to\ncome away on foot; but finding themselves in this condition, they got\nin a body into the enclosures, and in that posture turning dragoons,\nthey lined the hedges, and fired upon the enemy with their carabines.\nThis way of fighting, though not very pleasant to troopers, put the\nenemy's horse to some stand, and encouraged our men to venture into a\nvillage, where the enemy had secured forty of their horse; and boldly\ncharging the guard, they beat them off, and recovering those horses,\nthe rest made their retreat good to Wansford Bridge; but we lost near\n100 horses, and about twelve of our men taken prisoners.\nThe next day the king took Huntingdon; the foot which were left in the\ntown, as I observed by their horse, had posted themselves at the foot\nof the bridge, and fortified the pass, with such things as the haste\nand shortness of the time would allow; and in this posture they seemed\nresolute to defend themselves. I confess, had they in time planted a\ngood force here, they might have put a full stop to our little army;\nfor the river is large and deep, the country on the left marshy, full\nof drains and ditches, and unfit for horse, and we must have either\nturned back, or took the right hand into Bedfordshire; but here not\nbeing above 400 foot, and they forsaken of their horse, the resistance\nthey made was to no other purpose than to give us occasion to knock\nthem on the head, and plunder the town.\nHowever, they defended the bridge, as I have said, and opposed our\npassage. I was this day in the van, and our forlorn having entered\nHuntingdon without any great resistance till they came to the bridge,\nfinding it barricaded, they sent me word; I caused the troops to halt,\nand rode up to the forlorn, to view the countenance of the enemy, and\nfound by the posture they had put themselves in, that they resolved to\nsell us the passage as dear as they could.\nI sent to the king for some dragoons, and gave him account of what I\nobserved of the enemy, and that I judged them to be 1000 men; for I\ncould not particularly see their numbers. Accordingly the king ordered\n500 dragoons to attack the bridge, commanded by a major; the enemy had\n200 musketeers placed on the bridge, their barricade served them for\na breastwork on the front, and the low walls on the bridge served\nto secure their flanks. Two bodies of their foot were placed on the\nopposite banks of the river, and a reserve stood in the highway on the\nrear. The number of their men could not have been better ordered, and\nthey wanted not courage answerable to the conduct of the party. They\nwere commanded by one Bennet, a resolute officer, who stood in the\nfront of his men on the bridge with a pike in his hand.\nBefore we began to fall on, the king ordered to view the river, to see\nif it was nowhere passable, or any boat to be had; but the river being\nnot fordable, and the boats all secured on the other side, the attack\nwas resolved on, and the dragoons fell on with extraordinary bravery.\nThe foot defended themselves obstinately, and beat off our dragoons\ntwice, and though Bennet was killed upon the spot, and after him his\nlieutenant, yet their officers relieving them with fresh men, they\nwould certainly have beat us all off, had not a venturous fellow, one\nof our dragoons, thrown himself into the river, swam over, and, in the\nmidst of a shower of musket-bullets, cut the rope which tied a great\nflat-bottom boat, and brought her over. With the help of this boat, I\ngot over 100 troopers first, and then their horses, and then 200 more\nwithout their horses; and with this party fell in with one of the\nsmall bodies of foot that were posted on that side, and having routed\nthem, and after them the reserve which stood on the road, I made up\nto the other party. They stood their ground, and having rallied the\nrunaways of both the other parties, charged me with their pikes, and\nbrought me to a retreat; but by this time the king had sent over 300\nmen more, and they coming up to me, the foot retreated. Those on the\nbridge finding how 'twas, and having no supplies sent them, as before,\nfainted, and fled; and the dragoons rushing forward, most of them were\nkilled; about 150 of the enemy were killed, of which all the officers\nat the bridge, the rest run away.\nThe town suffered for it, for our men left them little of anything\nthey could carry. Here we halted and raised contributions, took money\nof the country and of the open towns, to exempt them from plunder.\nTwice we faced the town of Cambridge, and several of our officers\nadvised his Majesty to storm it. But having no foot, and but 1200\ndragoons, wiser heads diverted him from it, and leaving Cambridge\non the left, we marched to Woburn, in Bedfordshire, and our parties\nraised money all over the country quite into Hertfordshire, within\nfive miles of St Alban's.\nThe swiftness of our march, and uncertainty which way we intended,\nprevented all possible preparation to oppose us, and we met with no\nparty able to make head against us. From Woburn the king went through\nBuckingham to Oxford; some of our men straggling in the villages for\nplunder, were often picked up by the enemy. But in all this long march\nwe did not lose 200 men, got an incredible booty, and brought six\nwaggons laden with money, besides 2000 horses and 3000 head of cattle,\ninto Oxford. From Oxford his Majesty moves again into Gloucestershire,\nhaving left about 1500 of his horse at Oxford to scour the country,\nand raise contributions, which they did as far as Reading.\nSir Thomas Fairfax was returned from taking Bridgewater, and was sat\ndown before Bristol, in which Prince Rupert commanded with a strong\ngarrison, 2500 foot and 1000 horse. We had not force enough to attempt\nanything there. But the Scots, who lay still before Hereford,\nwere afraid of us, having before parted with all their horse under\nLieutenant-General Leslie, and but ill stored with provisions; and if\nwe came on their backs, were in a fair way to be starved, or made to\nbuy their provisions at the price of their blood.\nHis Majesty was sensible of this, and had we had but ten regiments of\nfoot, would certainly have fought the Scots. But we had no foot, or so\nfew as was not worth while to march them. However, the king marched\nto Worcester, and the Scots, apprehending they should be blocked\nup, immediately raised the siege, pretending it was to go help their\nbrethren in Scotland, and away they marched northwards.\nWe picked up some of their stragglers, but they were so poor, had been\nso ill paid, and so harassed at the siege, that they had neither money\nnor clothes; and the poor soldiers fed upon apples and roots, and ate\nthe very green corn as it grew in the fields, which reduced them to\na very sorry condition of health, for they died like people infected\nwith the plague.\n'Twas now debated whether we should yet march for Scotland, but two\nthings prevented--(1.) The plague was broke out there, and multitudes\ndied of it, which made the king backward, and the men more backward.\n(2.) The Marquis of Montrose, having routed a whole brigade of\nLeslie's best horse, and carried all before him, wrote to his Majesty\nthat he did not now want assistance, but was in hopes in a few days\nto send a body of foot into England to his Majesty's assistance. This\nover-confidence of his was his ruin; for, on the contrary, had he\nearnestly pressed the king to have marched, and fallen in with his\nhorse, the king had done it, and been absolutely master of Scotland\nin a fortnight's time; but Montrose was too confident, and defied them\nall, till at last they got their forces together, and Leslie with his\nhorse out of England, and worsted him in two or three encounters, and\nthen never left him till they drove him out of Scotland.\nWhile his Majesty stayed at Worcester, several messengers came to him\nfrom Cheshire for relief, being exceedingly straitened by the forces\nof the Parliament; in order to which the king marched, but Shrewsbury\nbeing in the enemy's hands, he was obliged to go round by Ludlow,\nwhere he was joined by some foot out of Wales. I took this opportunity\nto ask his Majesty's leave to go by Shrewsbury to my father's,\nand, taking only two servants, I left the army two days before they\nmarched.\nThis was the most unsoldier-like action that ever I was guilty of, to\ngo out of the army to pay a visit when a time of action was just at\nhand; and, though I protest I had not the least intimation, no, not\nfrom my own thoughts, that the army would engage, at least before they\ncame to Chester, before which I intended to meet them, yet it looked\nso ill, so like an excuse or a sham of cowardice, or disaffection to\nthe cause and to my master's interest, or something I know not what,\nthat I could not bear to think of it, nor never had the heart to see\nthe king's face after it.\nFrom Ludlow the king marched to relieve Chester. Poyntz, who commanded\nthe Parliament's forces, follows the king, with design to join with\nthe forces before Chester, under Colonel Jones, before the king could\ncome up. To that end Poyntz passes through Shrewsbury the day that the\nking marched from Ludlow; yet the king's forces got the start of him,\nand forced him to engage. Had the king engaged him but three hours\nsooner, and consequently farther off from Chester, he had ruined him,\nfor Poyntz's men, not able to stand the shock of the king's horse,\ngave ground, and would in half-an-hour more have been beaten out of\nthe field; but Colonel Jones, with a strong party from the camp, which\nwas within two miles; comes up in the heat of the action, falls on in\nthe king's rear, and turned the scale of the day. The body was, after\nan obstinate fight, defeated, and a great many gentlemen of quality\nkilled and taken prisoners. The Earl of Lichfield was of the number of\nthe former, and sixty-seven officers of the latter, with 1000 others.\nThe king, with about 500 horse, got into Chester, and from thence into\nWales, whither all that could get away made up to him as fast as they\ncould, but in a bad condition.\nThis was the last stroke they struck; the rest of the war was nothing\nbut taking all his garrisons from him one by one, till they finished\nthe war with the captivating his person, and then, for want of other\nbusiness, fell to fighting with one another.\nI was quite disconsolate at the news of this last action, and the\nmore because I was not there. My regiment wholly dispersed, my\nlieutenant-colonel, a gentleman of a good family, and a near relation\nto my mother, was prisoner, my major and three captains killed, and\nmost of the rest prisoners.\nThe king, hopeless of any considerable party in Wales, Bristol being\nsurrendered, sends for Prince Rupert and Prince Maurice, who came\nto him. With them, and the Lord Digby, Sir Marmaduke Langdale, and a\ngreat train of gentlemen, his Majesty marches to Newark again, leaves\n1000 horse with Sir William Vaughan to attempt the relief of Chester,\nin doing whereof he was routed the second time by Jones and his men,\nand entirely dispersed.\nThe chief strength the king had in these parts was at Newark, and the\nParliament were very earnest with the Scots to march southward and to\nlay siege to Newark; and while the Parliament pressed them to it, and\nthey sat still and delayed it, several heats began, and some ill blood\nbetween them, which afterwards broke out into open war. The English\nreproached the Scots with pretending to help them, and really\nhindering their affairs. The Scots returned that they came to fight\nfor them, and are left to be starved, and can neither get money nor\nclothes. At last they came to this, the Scots will come to the siege\nif the Parliament will send them money, but not before. However, as\npeople sooner agree in doing ill than in doing well, they came to\nterms, and the Scots came with their whole army to the siege of\nNewark.\nThe king, foreseeing the siege, calls his friends about him, tells\nthem he sees his circumstances are such that they can help him but\nlittle, nor he protect them, and advises them to separate. The Lord\nDigby, with Sir Marmaduke Langdale, with a strong body of horse,\nattempt to get into Scotland to join with Montrose, who was still in\nthe Highlands, though reduced to a low ebb, but these gentlemen are\nfallen upon on every side and routed, and at last, being totally\nbroken and dispersed, they fly to the Earl of Derby's protection in\nthe Isle of Man.\nPrince Rupert, Prince Maurice, Colonel Gerard, and above 400\ngentlemen, all officers of horse, lay their commissions down, and\nseizing upon Wootton House for a retreat, make proposals to the\nParliament to leave the kingdom, upon their parole not to return again\nin arms against the Parliament, which was accepted, though afterwards\nthe prince declined it. I sent my man post to the prince to be\nincluded in this treaty, and for leave for all that would accept of\nlike conditions, but they had given in the list of their names, and\ncould not alter it.\nThis was a sad time. The poor remains of the king's fortunes went\neverywhere to wreck. Every garrison of the enemy was full of the\nCavalier prisoners, and every garrison the king had was beset with\nenemies, either blocked up or besieged. Goring and the Lord Hopton\nwere the only remainders of the king's forces which kept in a body,\nand Fairfax was pushing them with all imaginable vigour with his whole\narmy about Exeter and other parts of Devonshire and Cornwall.\nIn this condition the king left Newark in the night, and got to\nOxford. The king had in Oxford 8000 men, and the towns of Banbury,\nFarringdon, Donnington Castle, and such places as might have been\nbrought together in twenty-four hours, 15,000 or 20,000 men, with\nwhich, if he had then resolved to have quitted the place,\nand collected the forces in Worcester, Hereford, Lichfield,\nAshby-de-la-Zouch, and all the small castles and garrisons he had\nthereabouts, he might have had near 40,000 men, might have beaten\nthe Scots from Newark, Colonel Jones from Chester, and all, before\nFairfax, who was in the west, could be able to come to their relief.\nAnd this his Majesty's friends in North Wales had concerted; and, in\norder to it, Sir Jacob Ashby gathered what forces he could, in our\nparts, and attempted to join the king at Oxford, and to have proposed\nit to him; but Sir Jacob was entirely routed at Stow-on-the-Wold, and\ntaken prisoner, and of 3000 men not above 600 came to Oxford.\nAll the king's garrisons dropped one by one; Hereford, which had stood\nout against the whole army of the Scots, was surprised by six men and\na lieutenant dressed up for country labourers, and a constable pressed\nto work, who cut the guards in pieces, and let in a party of the\nenemy. Chester was reduced by famine, all the attempts the king made\nto relieve it being frustrated.\nSir Thomas Fairfax routed the Lord Hopton at Torrington, and drove him\nto such extremities, that he was forced up into the farthest corner of\nCornwall. The Lord Hopton had a gallant body of horse with him of nine\nbrigades, but no foot; Fairfax, a great army.\nHeartless, and tired out with continual ill news, and ill success,\nI had frequent meetings with some gentlemen who had escaped from\nthe rout of Sir William Vaughan, and we agreed upon a meeting at\nWorcester, of all the friends we could get, to see if we could raise\na body fit to do any service; or, if not, to consider what was to be\ndone. At this meeting we had almost as many opinions as people; our\nstrength appeared too weak to make any attempt, the game was too far\ngone in our parts to be retrieved; all we could make up did not amount\nto above 800 horse.\n'Twas unanimously agreed not to go into the Parliament as long as our\nroyal master did not give up the cause; but in all places, and by all\npossible methods, to do him all the service we could. Some proposed\none thing, some another; at last we proposed getting vessels to carry\nus to the Isle of Man to the Earl of Derby, as Sir Marmaduke Langdale,\nLord Digby, and others had done. I did not foresee any service\nit would be to the king's affairs, but I started a proposal that,\nmarching to Pembroke in a body, we should there seize upon all the\nvessels we could, and embarking ourselves, horses, and what foot\nwe could get, cross the Severn Sea, and land in Cornwall to the\nassistance of Prince Charles, who was in the army of the Lord Hopton,\nand where only there seemed to be any possibility of a chance for the\nremaining part of our cause.\nThis proposal was not without its difficulties, as how to get to the\nseaside, and, when there, what assurance of shipping. The enemy, under\nMajor-General Langhorn, had overrun Wales, and 'twould be next to\nimpossible to effect it.\nWe could never carry our proposal with the whole assembly; but,\nhowever, about 200 of us resolved to attempt it, and [the] meeting\nbeing broken up without coming to any conclusion, we had a private\nmeeting among ourselves to effect it.\nWe despatched private messengers to Swansea and Pembroke, and other\nplaces; but they all discouraged us from the attempt that way, and\nadvised us to go higher towards North Wales, where the king's interest\nhad more friends, and the Parliament no forces. Upon this we met, and\nresolved, and having sent several messengers that way, one of my men\nprovided us two small vessels in a little creek near Harlech Castle,\nin Merionethshire. We marched away with what expedition we could, and\nembarked in the two vessels accordingly. It was the worst voyage sure\nthat ever man went; for first we had no manner of accommodation for so\nmany people, hay for our horses we got none, or very little, but good\nstore of oats, which served us for our own bread as well as provender\nfor the horses.\nIn this condition we put off to sea, and had a fair wind all the first\nnight, but early in the morning a sudden storm drove us within two or\nthree leagues of Ireland. In this pickle, sea-sick, our horses rolling\nabout upon one another, and ourselves stifled for want of room, no\ncabins nor beds, very cold weather, and very indifferent diet, we\nwished ourselves ashore again a thousand times; and yet we were not\nwilling to go ashore in Ireland if we could help it; for the rebels\nhaving possession of every place, that was just having our throats cut\nat once. Having rolled about at the mercy of the winds all day, the\nstorm ceasing in the evening, we had fair weather again, but wind\nenough, which being large, in two days and a night we came upon the\ncoast of Cornwall, and, to our no small comfort, landed the next day\nat St Ives, in the county of Cornwall.\nWe rested ourselves here, and sent an express to the Lord Hopton, who\nwas then in Devonshire, of our arrival, and desired him to assign us\nquarters, and send us his farther orders. His lordship expressed a\nvery great satisfaction at our arrival, and left it to our own conduct\nto join him as we saw convenient.\nWe were marching to join him, when news came that Fairfax had given\nhim an entire defeat at Torrington. This was but the old story over\nagain. We had been used to ill news a great while, and 'twas the less\nsurprise to us.\nUpon this news we halted at Bodmin, till we should hear farther; and\nit was not long before we saw a confirmation of the news before our\neyes, for the Lord Hopton, with the remainder of his horse, which he\nhad brought off at Torrington in a very shattered condition, retreated\nto Launceston, the first town in Cornwall, and hearing that Fairfax\npursued him, came on to Bodmin. Hither he summoned all the troops\nwhich he had left, which, when he had got together, were a fine\nbody indeed of 5000 horse, but few foot but what were at Pendennis,\nBarnstaple, and other garrisons. These were commanded by the Lord\nHopton. The Lord Goring had taken shipping for France to get relief a\nfew days before.\nHere a grand council of war was called, and several things were\nproposed, but as it always is in distress, people are most irresolute,\nso 'twas here. Some were for breaking through by force, our number\nbeing superior to the enemy's horse. To fight them with their foot\nwould be desperation and ridiculous; and to retreat would but be\nto coop up themselves in a narrow place, where at last they must be\nforced to fight upon disadvantage, or yield at mercy. Others opposed\nthis as a desperate action, and without probability of success, and\nall were of different opinions. I confess, when I saw how things\nwere, I saw 'twas a lost game, and I was for the opinion of breaking\nthrough, and doing it now, while the country was open and large, and\nnot being forced to it when it must be with more disadvantage. But\nnothing was resolved on, and so we retreated before the enemy. Some\nsmall skirmishes there happened near Bodmin, but none that were very\nconsiderable.\n'Twas the 1st of March when we quitted Bodmin, and quartered at large\nat Columb, St Dennis, and Truro, and the enemy took his quarters at\nBodmin, posting his horse at the passes from Padstow on the north, to\nWadebridge, Lostwithiel, and Fowey, spreading so from sea to sea,\nthat now breaking through was impossible. There was no more room for\ncounsel; for unless we had ships to carry us off, we had nothing to do\nbut when we were fallen upon, to defend ourselves, and sell victory as\ndear as we could to the enemies.\nThe Prince of Wales seeing the distress we were in, and loth to\nfall into the enemy's hands, ships himself on board some vessels at\nFalmouth, with about 400 lords and gentlemen. And as I had no command\nhere to oblige my attendance, I was once going to make one, but my\ncomrades, whom I had been the principal occasion of bringing hither,\nbegan to take it ill, that I would leave them, and so I resolved we\nwould take our fate together.\nWhile thus we had nothing before us but a soldier's death, a fair\nfield, and a strong enemy, and people began to look one upon another,\nthe soldiers asked how their officers looked, and the officers asked\nhow their soldiers looked, and every day we expected to be our last,\nwhen unexpectedly the enemy's general sent a trumpet to Truro to my\nLord Hopton, with a very handsome gentlemanlike offer:--\nThat since the general could not be ignorant of his present condition,\nand that the place he was in could not afford him subsistence or\ndefence; and especially considering that the state of our affairs were\nsuch, that if we should escape from thence we could not remove to\nour advantage, he had thought good to let us know, that if we would\ndeliver up our horses and arms, he would, for avoiding the effusion of\nChristian blood, or the putting any unsoldierly extremities upon us,\nallow such honourable and safe conditions, as were rather better than\nour present circumstances could demand, and such as should discharge\nhim to all the world, as a gentleman, as a soldier, and as a\nChristian.\nAfter this followed the conditions he would give us, which were as\nfollows, viz.:--That all the soldiery, as well English as foreigners,\nshould have liberty to go beyond the seas, or to their own dwellings,\nas they pleased; and to such as shall choose to live at home,\nprotection for their liberty, and from all violence and plundering\nof soldiers, and to give them bag and baggage, and all their goods,\nexcept horses and arms.\nThat for officers in commissions, and gentlemen of quality, he would\nallow them horses for themselves and one servant, or more, suitable\nto their quality, and such arms as are suitable to gentlemen of such\nquality travelling in times of peace; and such officers as would go\nbeyond sea, should take with them their full arms and number of horses\nas are allowed in the army to such officers.\nThat all the troopers shall receive on the delivery of their\nhorses, 20s. a man to carry them home; and the general's pass and\nrecommendation to any gentleman who desires to go to the Parliament to\nsettle the composition for their estates.\nLastly, a very honourable mention of the general, and offer of their\nmediation to the Parliament, to treat him as a man of honour, and one\nwho has been tender of the country, and behaved himself with all the\nmoderation and candour that could be expected from an enemy.\nUpon the unexpected receipt of this message, a council of war was\ncalled, and the letter read; no man offered to speak a word; the\ngeneral moved it, but every one was loth to begin.\nAt last an old colonel starts up, and asked the general what he\nthought might occasion the writing this letter? The general told him,\nhe could not tell; but he could tell, he was sure, of one thing, that\nhe knew what was not the occasion of it, viz., that is, not any want\nof force in their army to oblige us to other terms. Then a doubt was\nstarted, whether the king and Parliament were not in any treaty, which\nthis agreement might be prejudicial to.\nThis occasioned a letter to my Lord Fairfax, wherein our general\nreturning the civilities, and neither accepting nor refusing his\nproposal, put it upon his honour, whether there was not some agreement\nor concession between his Majesty and the Parliament, in order to a\ngeneral peace, which this treaty might be prejudicial to, or thereby\nbe prejudicial to us.\nThe Lord Fairfax ingenuously declared, he had heard the king had made\nsome concessions, and he heartily wished he would make such as would\nsettle the kingdom in peace, that Englishmen might not wound and\ndestroy one another; but that he declared he knew of no treaty\ncommenced, nor anything passed which could give us the least shadow\nof hope for any advantage in not accepting his conditions; at last\ntelling us, that though he did not insult over our circumstances, yet\nif we thought fit, upon any such supposition, to refuse his offers, he\nwas not to seek in his measures.\nAnd it appeared so, for he immediately advanced his forlorns, and\ndispossessed us of two advanced quarters, and thereby straitened us\nyet more.\nWe had now nothing to say, but treat, and our general was so sensible\nof our condition, that he returned the trumpet with a safe-conduct for\ncommissioners at twelve o'clock that night; upon which a cessation of\narms was agreed on, we quitting Truro to the Lord Fairfax, and he left\nSt Allen to us to keep our headquarters.\nThe conditions were soon agreed on; we disbanded nine full brigades of\nhorse, and all the conditions were observed with the most honour and\ncare by the enemy that ever I saw in my life.\nNor can I omit to make very honourable mention of this noble\ngentleman, though I did not like his cause; but I never saw a man of\na more pleasant, calm, courteous, downright, honest behaviour in my\nlife; and for his courage and personal bravery in the field, that we\nhad felt enough of. No man in the world had more fire and fury in him\nwhile in action, or more temper and softness out of it. In short, and\nI cannot do him greater honour, he exceedingly came near the character\nof my foreign hero, Gustavus Adolphus, and in my account is, of all\nthe soldiers in Europe, the fittest to be reckoned in the second place\nof honour to him.\nI had particular occasion to see much of his temper in all this\naction, being one of the hostages given by our general for the\nperformance of the conditions, in which circumstance the general did\nme several times the honour to send to me to dine with him; and was\nexceedingly pleased to discourse with me about the passages of the\nwars in Germany, which I had served in, he having been at the same\ntime in the Low Countries in the service of Prince Maurice; but I\nobserved if at any time my civilities extended to commendations of his\nown actions, and especially to comparing him to Gustavus Adolphus, he\nwould blush like a woman, and be uneasy, declining the discourse, and\nin this he was still more like him.\nLet no man scruple my honourable mention of this noble enemy, since\nno man can suspect me of favouring the cause he embarked in, which\nI served as heartily against as any man in the army; but I cannot\nconceal extraordinary merit for its being placed in an enemy.\nThis was the end of our making war, for now we were all under parole\nnever to bear arms against the Parliament; and though some of us did\nnot keep our word, yet I think a soldier's parole ought to be the most\nsacred in such case, that a soldier may be the easier trusted at all\ntimes upon his word. For my part, I went home fully contented, since\nI could do my royal master no better service, that I had come off no\nworse.\nThe enemy going now on in a full current of success, and the king\nreduced to the last extremity, and Fairfax, by long marches, being\ncome back within five miles of Oxford, his Majesty, loth to be cooped\nup in a town which could on no account hold long out, quits the town\nin a disguise, leaving Sir Thomas Clemham governor, and being only\nattended with Mr Ashburnham and one more, rides away to Newark, and\nthere fatally committed himself to the honour and fidelity of the\nScots under General Leven.\nThere had been some little bickering between the Parliament and the\nScots commissioners concerning the propositions which the Scots were\nfor a treaty with the king upon, and the Parliament refused it. The\nParliament, upon all proposals of peace, had formerly invited the king\nto come and throw himself upon the honour, fidelity, and affection of\nhis Parliament. And now the king from Oxford offering to come up\nto London on the protection of the Parliament for the safety of his\nperson, they refused him, and the Scots differed from them in it, and\nwere for a personal treaty.\nThis, in our opinion, was the reason which prompted the king to throw\nhimself upon the fidelity of the Scots, who really by their infidelity\nhad been the ruin of all his affairs, and now, by their perfidious\nbreach of honour and faith with him, will be virtually and mediately\nthe ruin of his person.\nThe Scots were, as all the nation besides them was, surprised at the\nking's coming among them; the Parliament began very high with them,\nand send an order to General Leven to send the king to Warwick Castle;\nbut he was not so hasty to part with so rich a prize. As soon as the\nking came to the general, he signs an order to Colonel Bellasis, the\ngovernor of Newark, to surrender it, and immediately the Scots decamp\nhomewards, carrying the king in the camp with them, and marching on, a\nhouse was ordered to be provided for the king at Newcastle.\nAnd now the Parliament saw their error, in refusing his Majesty a\npersonal treaty, which, if they had accepted (their army was not yet\ntaught the way of huffing their masters), the kingdom might have been\nsettled in peace. Upon this the Parliament send to General Leven to\nhave his Majesty not be sent, which was their first language, but be\nsuffered to come to London to treat with his Parliament; before it\nwas, \"Let the king be sent to Warwick Castle\"; now 'tis, \"To let his\nMajesty come to London to treat with his people.\"\nBut neither one or the other would do with the Scots; but we who knew\nthe Scots best knew that there was one thing would do with them, if\nthe other would not, and that was money; and therefore our hearts\nached for the king.\nThe Scots, as I said, had retreated to Newcastle with the king, and\nthere they quartered their whole army at large upon the country;\nthe Parliament voted they had no farther occasion for the Scots, and\ndesired them to go home about their business. I do not say it was\nin these words, but in whatsoever good words their messages might\nbe expressed, this and nothing less was the English of it. The Scots\nreply, by setting forth their losses, damages, and dues, the substance\nof which was, \"Pay us our money and we will be gone, or else we won't\nstir.\" The Parliament call for an account of their demands, which the\nScots give in, amounting to a million; but, according to their custom,\nand especially finding that the army under Fairfax inclined gradually\nthat way, fall down to \u00a3500,000, and at last to \u00a3400,000; but all the\nwhile this is transacting a separate treaty is carried on at London\nwith the commissioners of Scotland, and afterwards at Edinburgh, by\nwhich it is given them to understand that, whereas upon payment of the\nmoney, the Scots army is to march out of England, and to give up all\nthe towns and garrisons which they hold in this kingdom, so they are\nto take it for granted that 'tis the meaning of the treaty that they\nshall leave the king in the hands of the English Parliament.\nTo make this go down the better, the Scotch Parliament, upon his\nMajesty's desire to go with their army into Scotland, send him for\nanswer, that it cannot be for the safety of his Majesty or of the\nState to come into Scotland, not having taken the Covenant, and this\nwas carried in their Parliament but by two voices.\nThe Scots having refused his coming into Scotland, as was concerted\nbetween the two Houses, and their army being to march out of\nEngland, the delivering up the king became a consequence of the\nthing--unavoidable, and of necessity.\nHis Majesty, thus deserted of those into whose hands he had thrown\nhimself, took his leave of the Scots general at Newcastle, telling him\nonly, in few words, this sad truth, that he was bought and sold. The\nParliament commissioners received him at Newcastle from the Scots, and\nbrought him to Holmby House, in Northamptonshire; from whence, upon\nthe quarrels and feuds of parties, he was fetched by a party of horse,\ncommanded by one Cornet Joyce, from the army, upon their mutinous\nrendezvous at Triplow Heath; and, after this, suffering many violences\nand varieties of circumstances among the army, was carried to Hampton\nCourt, from whence his Majesty very readily made his escape; but not\nhaving notice enough to provide effectual means for his more effectual\ndeliverance, was obliged to deliver himself to Colonel Hammond in the\nIsle of Wight. Here, after some very indifferent usage, the Parliament\npursued a farther treaty with him, and all points were agreed but\ntwo: the entire abolishing Episcopacy, which the king declared to be\nagainst his conscience and his coronation oath; and the sale of the\nChurch lands, which he declared, being most of them gifts to God and\nthe Church, by persons deceased, his Majesty thought could not be\nalienated without the highest sacrilege, and if taken from the uses\nto which they were appointed by the wills of the donors, ought to be\nrestored back to the heirs and families of the persons who bequeathed\nthem.\nAnd these two articles so stuck with his Majesty, that he ventured\nhis fortune, and royal family, and his own life for them. However, at\nlast, the king condescended so far in these, that the Parliament voted\nhis Majesty's concessions to be sufficient to settle and establish the\npeace of the nation.\nThis vote discovered the bottom of all the counsels which then\nprevailed; for the army, who knew if peace were once settled, they\nshould be undone, took the alarm at this, and clubbing together in\ncommittees and councils, at last brought themselves to a degree\nof hardness above all that ever this nation saw; for calling into\nquestion the proceedings of their masters who employed them, they\nimmediately fall to work upon the Parliament, remove Colonel Hammond,\nwho had the charge of the king, and used him honourably, place a\nnew guard upon him, dismiss the commissioners, and put a stop to the\ntreaty; and, following their blow, march to London, place regiments of\nfoot at the Parliament-house door, and, as the members came up,\nseize upon all those whom they had down in a list as promoters of the\nsettlement and treaty, and would not suffer them to sit; but the rest\nwho, being of their own stamp, are permitted to go on, carry on the\ndesigns of the army, revive their votes of non-addresses to the\nking, and then, upon the army's petition to bring all delinquents to\njustice, the mask was thrown off, the word all is declared to be\nmeant the king, as well as every man else they pleased. 'Tis too sad\na story, and too much a matter of grief to me, and to all good men, to\nrenew the blackness of those days, when law and justice was under the\nfeet of power; the army ruled the Parliament, the private officers\ntheir generals, the common soldiers their officers, and confusion was\nin every part of the government. In this hurry they sacrificed their\nking, and shed the blood of the English nobility without mercy.\nThe history of the times will supply the particulars which I omit,\nbeing willing to confine myself to my own accounts and observations.\nI was now no more an actor, but a melancholy observator of the\nmisfortunes of the times. I had given my parole not to take up arms\nagainst the Parliament, and I saw nothing to invite me to engage on\ntheir side. I saw a world of confusion in all their counsels, and I\nalways expected that in a chain of distractions, as it generally falls\nout, the last link would be destruction; and though I pretended to no\nprophecy, yet the progress of affairs have brought it to pass, and I\nhave seen Providence, who suffered, for the correction of this nation,\nthe sword to govern and devour us, has at last brought destruction by\nthe sword upon the head of most of the party who first drew it.\nIf together with the brief account of what concern I had in the\nactive part of the war, I leave behind me some of my own remarks\nand observations, it may be pertinent enough to my design, and not\nunuseful to posterity.\n1. I observed by the sequel of things that it may be some excuse to\nthe first Parliament, who began this war, to say that they manifested\ntheir designs were not aimed at the monarchy, nor their quarrel at\nthe person of the king; because, when they had in their power, though\nagainst his will, they would have restored both his person and dignity\nas a king, only loading it with such clogs of the people's power as\nthey at first pretended to, viz., the militia, and power of naming\nthe great officers at court, and the like; which powers, it was never\ndenied, had been stretched too far in the beginning of this king's\nreign, and several things done illegally, which his Majesty had been\nsensible of, and was willing to rectify; but they having obtained the\npower by victory, resolved so to secure themselves, as that, whenever\nthey laid down their arms, the king should not be able to do the like\nagain. And thus far they were not to be so much blamed, and we did\nnot on our own part blame them, when they had obtained the power, for\nparting with it on good terms.\nBut when I have thus far advocated for the enemies, I must be very\nfree to state the crimes of this bloody war by the events of it. 'Tis\nmanifest there were among them from the beginning a party who aimed\nat the very root of the government, and at the very thing which they\nbrought to pass, viz., the deposing and murdering of their sovereign;\nand, as the devil is always master where mischief is the work, this\nparty prevailed, turned the other out of doors, and overturned all\nthat little honesty that might be in the first beginning of this\nunhappy strife.\nThe consequence of this was, the Presbyterians saw their error when\nit was too late, and then would gladly have joined the royal party to\nhave suppressed this new leaven which had infected the lump; and this\nis very remarkable, that most of the first champions of this war who\nbore the brunt of it, when the king was powerful and prosperous, and\nwhen there was nothing to be got by it but blows, first or last, were\nso ill used by this independent, powerful party, who tripped up\nthe heels of all their honesty, that they were either forced by ill\ntreatment to take up arms on our side, or suppressed and reduced by\nthem. In this the justice of Providence seemed very conspicuous, that\nthese having pushed all things by violence against the king, and by\narms and force brought him to their will, were at once both robbed\nof the end, their Church government, and punished for drawing their\nswords against their masters, by their own servants drawing the sword\nagainst them; and God, in His due time, punished the others too. And\nwhat was yet farther strange, the punishment of this crime of making\nwar against their king, singled out those very men, both in the\narmy and in the Parliament, who were the greatest champions of the\nPresbyterian cause in the council and in the field. Some minutes, too,\nof circumstances I cannot forbear observing, though they are not very\nmaterial, as to the fatality and revolutions of days and times. A\nRoman Catholic gentleman of Lancashire, a very religious man in his\nway, who had kept a calculate of times, and had observed mightily the\nfatality of times, places, and actions, being at my father's house,\nwas discoursing once upon the just judgment of God in dating His\nprovidences, so as to signify to us His displeasure at particular\ncircumstances; and, among an infinite number of collections he had\nmade, these were some which I took particular notice of, and from\nwhence I began to observe the like:--\n1. That King Edward VI. died the very same day of the same month\nin which he caused the altar to be taken down, and the image of the\nBlessed Virgin in the Cathedral of St Paul's.\n2. That Cranmer was burnt at Oxford the same day and month that he\ngave King Henry VIII. advice to divorce his Queen Catherine.\n3. That Queen Elizabeth died the same day and month that she resolved,\nin her Privy Council, to behead the Queen of Scots.\n4. That King James died the same day that he published his book\nagainst Bellarmine.\n5. That King Charles's long Parliament, which ruined him, began the\nvery same day and month which that Parliament began, that at the\nrequest of his predecessor robbed the Roman Church of all her\nrevenues, and suppressed abbeys and monasteries.\nHow just his calculations were, or how true the matter of fact,\nI cannot tell, but it put me upon the same in several actions and\nsuccesses of this war. And I found a great many circumstances, as to\ntime or action, which befell both his Majesty and his parties first;\nThen others which befell the Parliament and Presbyterian faction,\nwhich raised the war;\nThen the Independent tyranny which succeeded and supplanted the first\nparty;\nThen the Scots who acted on both sides;\nLastly, the restoration and re-establishment of the loyalty and\nreligion of our ancestors.\n1. For King Charles I.; 'tis observable, that the charge against the\nEarl of Strafford, a thing which his Majesty blamed himself for all\nthe days of his life, and at the moment of his last suffering, was\nfirst read in the Lords' House on the 30th of January, the same day of\nthe month six years that the king himself was brought to the block.\n2. That the king was carried away prisoner from Newark, by the Scots,\nMay 10, the same day six years that, against his conscience and\npromise, he passed the bill of attainder against the loyal, noble Earl\nof Strafford.\n3. The same day seven years that the king entered the House of Commons\nfor the five members, which all his friends blamed him for, the same\nday the Rump voted bringing his Majesty to trial, after they had set\nby the Lords for not agreeing to it, which was the 3rd of January\n4. The 12th of May 1646, being the surrender of Newark, the Parliament\nheld a day of thanksgiving and rejoicing, for the reduction of the\nking and his party, and finishing the war, which was the same day five\nyears that the Earl of Strafford was beheaded.\n5. The battle at Naseby, which ruined the king's affairs, and where\nhis secretary and his office was taken, was the 14th of June, the same\nday and month the first commission was given out by his Majesty to\nraise forces.\n6. The queen voted a traitor by the Parliament the 3rd of May, the\nsame day and month she carried the jewels into France.\n7. The same day the king defeated Essex in the west, his son, King\nCharles II., was defeated at Worcester.\n8. Archbishop Laud's house at Lambeth assaulted by the mob, the same\nday of the same month that he advised the king to make war upon the\nScots.\n9. Impeached the 15th of December 1640, the same day twelvemonth that\nhe ordered the Common Prayer-book of Scotland to be printed, in order\nto be imposed upon the Scots, from which all our troubles began.\nBut many more, and more strange, are the critical junctures of affairs\nin the case of the enemy, or at least more observed by me:--\n1. Sir John Hotham, who repulsed his Majesty and refused him\nadmittance into Hull before the war, was seized at Hull by the same\nParliament for whom he had done it, the same 10th day of August two\nyears that he drew the first blood in that war.\n2. Hampden of Buckinghamshire killed the same day one year that the\nmob petition from Bucks was presented to the king about him, as one of\nthe five members.\n3. Young Captain Hotham executed the 1st of January, the same day that\nhe assisted Sir Thomas Fairfax in the first skirmish with the king's\nforces at Bramham Moor.\n4. The same day and month, being the 6th of August 1641, that the\nParliament voted to raise an army against the king, the same day and\nmonth, _anno_ 1648, the Parliament were assaulted and turned out of\ndoors by that very army, and none left to sit but who the soldiers\npleased, which were therefore called the Rump.\n5. The Earl of Holland deserted the king, who had made him general of\nthe horse, and went over to the Parliament, and the 9th of March\n1641, carried the Commons' reproaching declaration to the king; and\nafterwards taking up arms for the king against the Parliament, was\nbeheaded by them the 9th of March 1648, just seven years after.\n6. The Earl of Holland was sent by the king to come to his assistance\nand refused, the 11th of July 1641, and that very day seven years\nafter was taken by the Parliament at St Neots.\n7. Colonel Massey defended Gloucester against the king, and beat\nhim off the 5th of September 1643; was taken after by Cromwell's men\nfighting for the king, on the 5th of September 1651, two or three days\nafter the fight at Worcester.\n8. Richard Cromwell resigning, because he could not help it, the\nParliament voted a free Commonwealth, without a single person or House\nof Lords. This was the 25th of May 1658; the 25th of May 1660, the\nking landed at Dover, and restored the government of a single person\nand House of Lords.\n9. Lambert was proclaimed a traitor by the Parliament April the 20th,\nbeing the same day he proposed to Oliver Cromwell to take upon him the\ntitle of king.\n10. Monk being taken prisoner at Nantwich by Sir Thomas Fairfax,\nrevolted to the Parliament the same day nineteen years he declared for\nthe king, and thereby restored the royal authority.\n11. The Parliament voted to approve of Sir John Hotham's repulsing\nthe king at Hull, the 28th of April 1642; the 28th of April 1660, the\nParliament first debated in the House the restoring the king to the\ncrown.\n12. The agitators of the army formed themselves into a cabal, and held\ntheir first meeting to seize on the king's person, and take him into\ntheir custody from Holmby, the 28th of April 1647; the same day,\n1660, the Parliament voted the agitators to be taken into custody, and\ncommitted as many of them as could be found.\n13. The Parliament voted the queen a traitor for assisting her\nhusband, the king, May the 3rd, 1643; her son, King Charles II., was\npresented with the votes of Parliament to restore him, and the present\n14. The same day the Parliament passed the Act for recognition of\nOliver Cromwell, October 13th, 1654, Lambert broke up the Parliament\nand set up the army, 1659, October the 13th.\nSome other observations I have made, which, as not so pertinent, I\nforbear to publish, among which I have noted the fatality of some days\nto parties, as--\nThe 2nd of September: The fight at Dunbar; the fight at Worcester; the\noath against a single person passed; Oliver's first Parliament called.\nFor the enemy.\nThe 2nd of September: Essex defeated in Cornwall; Oliver died; city\nworks demolished. For the king.\nThe 29th of May: Prince Charles born; Leicester taken by storm; King\nCharles II. restored. Ditto.\nFatality of circumstances in this unhappy war, as--\n1. The English Parliament call in the Scots, to invade their king, and\nare invaded themselves by the same Scots, in defence of the king whose\ncase, and the design of the Parliament, the Scots had mistaken.\n2. The Scots, who unjustly assisted the Parliament to conquer their\nlawful sovereign, contrary to their oath of allegiance, and without\nany pretence on the king's part, are afterwards absolutely conquered\nand subdued by the same Parliament they assisted.\n3. The Parliament, who raised an army to depose their king, deposed by\nthe very army they had raised.\n4. The army broke three Parliaments, and are at last broke by a free\nParliament; and all they had done by the military power, undone at\nonce by the civil.\n5. Abundance of the chief men, who by their fiery spirits involved the\nnation in a civil war, and took up arms against their prince, first or\nlast met with ruin or disgrace from their own party.\n(1.) Sir John Hotham and his son, who struck the first stroke, both\nbeheaded or hanged by the Parliament.\n(2.) Major-General Massey three times taken prisoner by them, and once\nwounded at Worcester.\n(3.) Major-General Langhorn, (4.) Colonel Poyer, and (5.) Colonel\nPowell, changed sides, and at last taken, could obtain no other favour\nthan to draw lots for their lives; Colonel Poyer drew the dead lot,\nand was shot to death.\n(6.) Earl of Holland: who, when the House voted who should be\nreprieved, Lord Goring, who had been their worst enemy, or the Earl of\nHolland, who excepting one offence, had been their constant servant,\nvoted Goring to be spared, and the Earl to die.\n(7.) The Earl of Essex, their first general;\n(8.) Sir William Waller;\n(9.) Lieutenant-General Ludlow;\n(10.) The Earl of Manchester;\n--all disgusted and voted out of the army, though they had stood the\nfirst shock of the war, to make way for the new model of the army, and\nintroduce a party.\nIn all these confusions I have observed two great errors, one of the\nking, and one of his friends.\nOf the king, that when he was in their custody, and at their mercy,\nhe did not comply with their propositions of peace, before their army,\nfor want of employment, fell into heats and mutinies; that he did not\nat first grant the Scots their own conditions, which, if he had done,\nhe had gone into Scotland; and then, if the English would have fought\nthe Scots for him, he had a reserve of his loyal friends, who would\nhave had room to have fallen in with the Scots to his assistance,\nwho were after dispersed and destroyed in small parties attempting to\nserve him.\nWhile his Majesty remained at Newcastle, the queen wrote to him,\npersuading him to make peace upon any terms; and in politics her\nMajesty's advice was certainly the best. For, however low he was\nbrought by a peace, it must have been better than the condition he was\nthen in.\nThe error I mention of the king's friends was this, that after they\nsaw all was lost, they could not be content to sit still, and reserve\nthemselves for better fortunes, and wait the happy time when the\ndivisions of the enemy would bring them to certain ruin; but must\nhasten their own miseries by frequent fruitless risings, in the face\nof a victorious enemy, in small parties; and I always found these\neffects from it:--\n1. The enemy, who were always together by the ears, when they were let\nalone, were united and reconciled when we gave them any interruption;\nas particularly, in the case of the first assault the army made upon\nthem, when Colonel Pride, with his regiment, garbled the House, as\nthey called it. At that time a fair opportunity offered; but it was\nomitted till it was too late. That insult upon the House had been\nattempted the year before, but was hindered by the little insurrection\nof the royal party, and the sooner they had fallen out, the better.\n2. These risings being desperate, with vast disadvantages, and always\nsuppressed, ruined all our friends; the remnants of the Cavaliers were\nlessened, the stoutest and most daring were cut off, and the king's\ninterest exceedingly weakened, there not being less than 30,000 of\nhis best friends cut off in the several attempts made at Maidstone,\nColchester, Lancashire, Pembroke, Pontefract, Kingston, Preston,\nWarrington, Worcester, and other places. Had these men all reserved\ntheir fortunes to a conjunction with the Scots, at either of the\ninvasions they made into this kingdom, and acted with the conduct and\ncourage they were known masters of, perhaps neither of those Scots\narmies had been defeated.\nBut the impatience of our friends ruined all; for my part, I had as\ngood a mind to put my hand to the ruin of the enemy as any of them,\nbut I never saw any tolerable appearance of a force able to match the\nenemy, and I had no mind to be beaten and then hanged. Had we let them\nalone, they would have fallen into so many parties and factions, and\nso effectually have torn one another to pieces, that whichsoever party\nhad come to us, we should, with them, have been too hard for all the\nrest.\nThis was plain by the course of things afterwards; when the\nIndependent army had ruffled the Presbyterian Parliament, the soldiery\nof that party made no scruple to join us, and would have restored the\nking with all their hearts, and many of them did join us at last.\nAnd the consequence, though late, ended so; for they fell out so\nmany times, army and Parliament, Parliament and army, and alternately\npulled one another down so often till at last the Presbyterians who\nbegan the war, ended it, and, to be rid of their enemies, rather than\nfor any love to the monarchy, restored King Charles the Second, and\nbrought him in on the very day that they themselves had formerly\nresolved the ruin of his father's government, being the 29th of May,\nthe same day twenty years that the private cabal in London concluded\ntheir secret league with the Scots, to embroil his father King Charles\nthe First.\n[Footnote 1: General Ludlow, in his Memoirs, p. 52, says their men\nreturned from Warwick to London, not like men who had obtained a\nvictory, but like men that had been beaten.]\nNOTES.\np. 1. The preface to the first edition, which appeared in 1720, was\nwritten by Defoe as \"Editor\" of the manuscript. The second edition\nappeared between 1740 and 1750, after the death of Defoe. (He was\nprobably born in 1671 and he died in 1731.) In the preface to that\nedition it was argued that the Cavalier was certainly a real person.\np. 2, l. 35. \"Nicely\" is here used in the stricter and more uncommon\nsense of \"minutely.\" This use of words in a slightly different sense\nfrom their common modern significance will be noticed frequently;\n\"particular.\"\np. 3, l. 3. Charles XII the famous soldier king of Sweden died in 1718.\np. 3, l. 31. Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, was one of the staunchest\nsupporters of Charles I, and Chancellor under Charles II. His _History\nof the Rebellion_ is naturally written from the Royalist standpoint.\nThis statement concerning \"the editors\" can only be intended by Defoe\nto give colour of truth to his story of the manuscript.\np. 10, l. 17. England had been nominally at war with Spain since the\nbeginning of the reign of Charles I. Peace was actually made in 1630.\np. 12, l. 3. A pistole was a gold coin used chiefly in France and\nSpain. Its value varied but it was generally worth about fifteen or\nsixteen shillings.\np. 14, l. 5. Cardinal Richelieu, one of the greatest statesmen of\nthe seventeenth century, was practically supreme in France during the\nreign of Louis XIII.\np. 14, l. 16. The cause of the war with Savoy is told at length on\npage 23. Savoy being the frontier province between France and Italy it\nwas important that France should maintain her influence there.\np. 14, l. 18. Pinerolo was a frontier fortress.\np. 14, l. 36. The queen-mother was Mary de Medicis who had been regent\nduring the minority of Louis XIII.\np. 15, l. 3. The Protestants or Huguenots of Southern France had been\ntolerated since 1598 but Richelieu deprived them of many of their\nprivileges.\np. 15, l. 21. In 1625 when England was in alliance with France English\nships had been joined with the French fleet to reduce la Rochelle, the\ngreat stronghold of Protestantism in Southern France.\np. 16, l. 7. The Louvre, now famous as a picture gallery and museum,\nwas formerly one of the palaces of the French Kings.\np. 17, l. 16. The Bastille was the famous prison destroyed in 1789 at\nthe outbreak of the French Revolution.\np. 18, l. 13. In the seventeenth century Italy was still divided into\nseveral states each with its own prince.\np. 18, l. 22. Susa was another Savoyard fortress.\np. 19, l. 17. A halberd was a weapon consisting of a long wooden shaft\nsurmounted by an axe-like head.\np. 21, l. 30. The Cantons were the political divisions of Switzerland.\np. 23, l. 7. Casale, a strong town on the Po.\np. 25, l. 14. A dragoon was a cavalry soldier armed with an infantry\nfirearm and trained to fight on foot as well as on horseback.\np. 27, l. 25. Saluzzo a town S.E. of Pinerolo.\np. 29, l. 12. This truce prepared for the definite \"Peace of\nCherasco,\" April 1631, which confirmed the Duchy of Mantua to the Duke\nof Nevers but left only Pinerolo in the hands of the French.\np. 31, l. 12. This refers to the Treaty of B\u00e4rwalde, 1631, by which\nGustavus Adolphus promised to consider the interests of the French\n(who were the natural enemies of the Empire).\np. 31, l. 16. In 1628 the Duke of Pomerania had been obliged to put\nhis coast line under the care of the imperial troops. In attacking it\ntherefore in 1639 Gustavus Adolphus was aiming a blow at the Emperor\nand obtaining a good basis for further conquests.\np. 31, l. 25. _Gazette_ is the old name for _newspaper_.\np. 33, l. 12. Bavaria was the chief Catholic State not under the\ndirect government of the Emperor. Maximilian, its elector, was\nappointed head of the Catholic League which was formed in 1609 in\nopposition to the Protestant Union which had been formed in 1608.\np. 33, l. 20. By the end of the sixteenth century the Turks had\nadvanced far into Europe, had detached half of Hungary from the\nEmperor's dominions and made him pay tribute for the other half.\nDuring the seventeenth century, however, they were slowly driven back.\np. 33, l. 37. In 1628 the two Dukes of Mecklenburg had been \"put to\nthe ban\" by the Emperor for having given help to Christian of Denmark\nwho had taken up the cause of the Protestants.\np. 34, l. 10. Gustavus Adolphus had been at war with Poland from 1617\np. 34, l. 30. This was not a treaty of active alliance. Both John\nGeorge of Saxony and George William of Brandenburg were Protestant\nprinces but they were at first anxious to maintain neutrality between\nSweden and the Emperor. The impolitic action of Ferdinand drove them\nto join Gustavus Adolphus in 1631.\np. 34, l. 33. The German Diet was the meeting of the German princes\nto consult on imperial matters. Ratisbon is one of the chief towns of\nBavaria.\np. 35, l. 17. The story of Magdeburg is told on p. 42.\np. 36, l. 1. Count Tilly was a Bavarian General of genius who had been\nput at the head of the forces of the Catholic League in 1609.\np. 36, l. 31. The Protestant Union formed in 1608 had been forced to\ndissolve itself in 1621.\np. 37, l. 5. Wallenstein is one of the greatest generals and the most\ninteresting figure in seventeenth century history. A Bohemian by birth\nhe fought for the Emperor with an army raised by himself.\np. 37, l. 16. The Conclusions of Leipsic are described on p. 39.\np. 38, l. 29. The King of Hungary was Ferdinand (afterwards Ferdinand\nIII) son of Ferdinand II. The \"King of the Romans\" was a title\nbestowed on the person who was destined to become Emperor. (The Empire\nwas elective but tended to become hereditary.)\np. 39, l. 39. The Peace of Augsburg, 1555, had been intended to settle\nthe differences between the Lutherans and Catholics but it had left\nmany problems unsolved.\np. 42, l. 21. The Protestant bishopric of Magdeburg had been forcibly\nrestored to the Catholics in 1629. In 1631 the citizens of their own\naccord, relying on Swedish help, declared against the Emperor.\np. 47, l. 40. Torgau, a strongly fortified town in Saxony.\np. 57, l. 37. The Prince of Orange at this time was William II who\nmarried Mary, daughter of Charles I.\np. 59, l. 3. Except for the date, which should be 17th of September,\nand the numbers on both sides which he exaggerates, the Cavalier's\naccount of the battle of Leipsic is fairly accurate.\np. 61, l. 39. Cuirassiers were heavy cavalry wearing helmet and\ncuirass (two plates fastened together for the protection of the breast\nand back).\np. 65, l. 10. _Crabats_ is an old form of _Croats_ the name of the\ninhabitants of Croatia.\np. 66, l. 38. _Rix dollar_ is the English form of _Reichsthaler_ or\nimperial dollar.\np. 67, l. 6. \"Husband\" is here used in the sense of \"thrifty person.\"\np. 69, l. 18. A ducat was a gold coin generally worth about nine\nshillings.\np. 70, l. 29. This passage describes the conquest of the string of\necclesiastical territories known as the \"Priest's Lane.\"\np. 71, l. 23. A partisan was a military weapon used by footmen in the\nsixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and not unlike the halberd in\nform.\np. 73, l. 10. \"Bastion\" is the name given to certain projecting\nportions of a fortified building.\np. 78, l. 23. The Palatinate (divided into Upper and Lower) was a\nProtestant state whose elector, the son-in-law of James I, had been\ndriven out by the Emperor in 1620.\np. 79, l. 11. _Reformado_: A military term borrowed from the Spanish,\nsignifying an officer who, for some disgrace is deprived of his\ncommand but retains his rank. Defoe uses it to describe an officer not\nhaving a regular command.\np. 81, l. 15. Frederick, Elector Palatine, had been elected King by\nthe Protestants of Bohemia in opposition to the Emperor Ferdinand. It\nwas his acceptance of this position which led to the confiscation of\nhis Palatinate together with his new kingdom.\np. 81, l. 24. James I had, after much hesitation, sent in 1625 an\nexpedition to the aid of the Elector, but it had miscarried. Charles I\nwas too much occupied at home to prosecute an active foreign policy.\np. 81, l. 35. The Elector died in the same year as Gustavus Adolphus.\nHis son Charles Lewis was restored to the Lower Palatinate only, which\nwas confirmed to him at the end of the war in 1648.\np. 82, l. 3. The battle of Nieuport, one of the great battles between\nHolland and Spain, was fought in 1600 near the Flemish town of that\nname. Prince Maurice won a brilliant victory under very difficult\nconditions.\np. 82, l. 30. A ravelin is an outwork of a fortified building.\np. 86, l. 16. It was the attempt in 1607 to force Catholicism on the\nProtestants of the free city of Donauw\u00f6rth which led to the formation\nof the Protestant Union in 1608.\np. 87, l. 9. The Duringer Wald.--Thuringia Wald.\np. 97, l. 29. Camisado (fr. Latin Camisia=a shirt) is generally used\nto denote a night attack.\np. 98, l. 4. Note the inconsistency between this statement of the\nCavaliers interest in the curiosities at Munich and his indifference\nin Italy where he had \"no gust to antiquities.\"\np. 99, l. 7. Gustavus Adolphus had entered Nuremberg March 1631.\nWallenstein was now bent on re-taking it.\np. 100, l. 29. The Cavalier's enthusiasm for Gustavus Adolphus leads\nto misrepresentation. The Swedish king has sometimes been blamed for\nfailing to succour Magdeburg.\np. 101, l. 23. Redoubts are the most strongly fortified points in the\ntemporary fortification of a large space.\np. 107, l. 13. The Cavalier glosses over the fact that Gustavus\nAdolphus really retreated from his camp at Nuremberg, being\npractically starved out, as Wallenstein refused to come to an\nengagement.\np. 110, l. 38. Though the honours of war in the battle of L\u00fctzen went\nto the Swedes it is probable that they lost more men than did the\nImperialists.\np. 113, l. 37. The battle of N\u00f6rdlingen was one of the decisive\nbattles of the war. It restored to the Catholics the bishoprics of the\nSouth which Gustavus Adolphus had taken.\np. 114, l. 39. The title \"Infant\" or \"Infante\" belongs to all princes\nof the royal house in Spain. The Cardinal Infant really brought 15000\nmen to the help of the Emperor.\np. 116, l. 37. The King of Hungary had succeeded to the command of the\nimperial army after the murder of Wallenstein in 1634.\np. 119, l. 34. The treaty of Westphalia in 1648 ended the Thirty\nYears' War by a compromise. The Emperor recognised that he could have\nno real authority in matters of religion over the states governed\nby Protestant princes, North Germany remained Protestant, the South,\nCatholic.\np. 120, l. 11. This statement is an anachronism. Prince Maurice of\nNassau the famous son of William the Silent died in 1625.\np. 120, l. 39. The Netherlands belonged to Spain in the seventeenth\ncentury but revolted. The Northern provinces which were Protestant won\ntheir independence, the Southern provinces which were Catholic (modern\nBelgium) submitted to Spain on conditions.\np. 121, l. 19. The siege of Ostend, then in the hands of the Dutch,\nwas begun in July 1601 and came to an end in September 1604, when the\ngarrison surrendered with the honours of war.\np. 122, l. 31. In 1637 Laud had tried to force a new liturgy on\nScotland but this had been forcibly resisted. In 1638 the National\nCovenant against \"papistry\" was signed by all classes in Scotland.\nIn the same year episcopacy was abolished there and Charles thereupon\nresolved to subdue the Scots by arms. This led to the first \"Bishops'\nWar\" of 1639 which the Cavalier proceeds to describe.\np. 126, l. 4. Mercenaries (soldiers who fought in any army for the\nmere pay) were chiefly drawn from Switzerland in the seventeenth\ncentury.\np. 127, l. 38. By the Treaty of Berwick signed in June 1638 Charles\nconsented to allow the Scotch to settle their own ecclesiastical\naffairs. When they again resolved to abolish episcopacy he broke his\nword and in 1640 the Second \"Bishops' War\" took place. It was the\nexpenses of these wars which forced Charles to call parliament again.\np. 135, l. 34. It was the English Prayer Book with some slight changes\nthat Laud had attempted to impose on the Scotch.\np. 137, l. 31. Charles had in fact called the \"Short Parliament\" to\nmeet between these two expeditions but had quarrelled with it and\ndissolved it.\np. 138, l. 7. The Scotch had no real part in the death of the King.\nThe Presbyterians indeed upheld monarchy though not as Charles\nunderstood it.\np. 140, l. 26. The Long Parliament of 1640 passed an act by which it\ncould not be dissolved without its own consent.\np. 143, l. 4. The Treaty of Ripon (October 1640) left Northumberland\nand Durham in the hands of the Scotch until the King should be able\nto pay the \u00a3850 a day during their stay in England which he promised\nthem.\np. 143, l. 9. The permanent treaty signed in 1641 gave consent to\nall the demands of the Scotch, including their freedom to abolish\nepiscopacy.\np. 143, l. 29. The Earl of Stafford had been the chief supporter of\nCharles' method of government without parliament. He was executed in\n1641 and Laud suffered the same fate in 1645.\np. 144, l. 21. By the \"Grand Remonstrance\" the parliament tried to\nseize on the royal power.\np. 146, l. 13. The \"gentry\" of England were not, of course, all on the\nRoyalist side. Many of them, and some of the nobility, fought for the\nparliament, though it is true that the majority were for the King.\np. 151, l. 27. In 1643 by the Solemn League and Covenant the Scotch\nconsented to help parliament against the King on condition that\nPresbyterianism should be adopted as the English state religion.\np. 159, l. 33. The left wing was under the command of Lord Wilmot.\np. 170, l. 36. Leicester was taken by the King in 1645.\np. 180, l. 28. The Cavalier ascribes to himself the part taken by\nPrince Maurice (the brother of Prince Rupert) and Lord Wilmot in\nbringing aid to Hopton.\np. 187, l. 29. It was the King rather than the parliamentarians who\nwas anxious to give battle. The Royalists barred the way to London.\np. 192, l. 29. The parliamentarians certainly won a victory at the\nsecond battle of Newbury.\np. 194, l. 2. The Scotch nobles, alarmed at the violence of the\nparliamentarians, supported Charles in the second civil war (1648),\nand after his death Scotland recognised Charles II as King. Cromwell\nhowever conquered their country.\np. 194, l. 27. In 1641 a great Irish rebellion had followed the recall\nof Strafford who had been Lord Lieutenant of that country.\np. 195, l. 12. It was not until 1645, when his cause was declining in\nEngland, that Charles determined to seek direct help from the Irish.\nThis he did in the Glamorgan Treaty of that year by which he agreed\nto the legal restoration of Catholicism in Ireland. But the Treaty was\ndiscovered by the Parliament and Charles denied any knowledge of it.\np. 196, l. 11. The \"Grand Seignior\" was the name generally given to the\nSultan of Turkey.\np. 197, l. 5. William Prynne was the famous Puritan lawyer whose\nimprisonment by the Star Chamber had made him one of the heroes of\nPuritanism. George Buchanan was the famous Scotch scholar from whom\nJames I had derived much of his learning.\np. 197, l. 28. The dates are given both according to our present\nmode of reckoning and according to the old system by which the year\ncommenced on 25th March.\np. 198, l. 6. The Scots besieged Newcastle for nine months, not merely\na few days as the Cavalier relates.\np. 202, l. 39. The great Spanish general, the Duke of Parma, went to\nthe relief of Paris which was in the hands of the Catholics and was\nbeing besieged by the then Protestant Henry of Navarre in 1590.\np. 204, l. 9. As pointed out in the introduction the Cavalier's\naccount of the disposition of forces in this battle is inaccurate.\np. 205, l. 27. It was really Rupert's hitherto unconquered cavalry\nwhich was thus borne down by Cromwell's horse.\np. 216, l. 4. A posset was a drink of milk curdled with an acid\nliquid.\np. 219, l. 40. The Grisons are the people of one of the Swiss Cantons.\np. 222, l. 36. Newcastle was not retaken by Rupert.\np. 230, l. 8. By the Self-Denying Ordinance of 1645 all members of\nParliament were compelled to resign their commands. This rid the\nparliamentarians of some of their most incapable commanders. Exception\nwas made in favour of Cromwell who was soon appointed Lieutenant\nGeneral.\np. 230, l. 17. On the \"New Model\" the armies of the parliamentary side\nwere reorganized as a whole, made permanent, and given a uniform and\nregular pay.\np. 231, l. 15. It was not only the ecclesiastical conditions laid down\nby the parliamentarians at the Treaty of Uxbridge which determined the\nKing's refusal. He was asked besides taking the Covenant to surrender\nthe militia.\np. 243, l. 26. The estates of many of the Cavalier gentlemen were\nforfeited. Some were allowed to \"compound,\" i.e. to keep part of their\nestates on payment of a sum of money.\np. 253, l. 32. Montrose had created a Royalist party in Scotland and\nwas fighting there for the King.\np. 258, l. 1. The \"forlorn\" was a body of men sent in advance of an\nexpedition.\np. 272, l. 21. After the defeat of the Royalists dissension arose\nbetween the parliament and the army and naturally the army was able to\ncoerce the parliament.\np. 274, l. 2. Cornet Joyce secured the person of the King by the order\nof Cromwell, the idol of the army.\np. 274, l. 26. The Cavalier exaggerates the likelihood of an\nunderstanding between the King and the parliament. In reality Charles\nwas merely playing off one party against the other.\np. 275, l. 7. In January 1648 parliament had passed a vote of \"No\nAddresses,\" renouncing any further negotiation with the King, but\nafter the second civil war of that year (in which the Presbyterians\njoined the King) they resumed them again in the Treaty of Newport.\nThe army however became more violent, and the result was the forcible\nexclusion of all moderate members of parliament in \"Pride's Purge,\"\nDecember 1648. The trial and execution of the King followed.\np. 275, l. 35. The Cavalier refers to the acts of retaliation which\nfollowed the Restoration of Charles II.\np. 276, l. 27. There were many republicans among the \"Independents\"\nor \"Sectaries\" in the army, but the policy actually carried out can\nhardly have been planned before the war.\np. 278, l. 5. Cardinal Bellarmine was one of the great\nControversialists of the Counter-Reformation.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Memoirs of a Cavalier\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " French\n", "content": "Produced by Chuck Greif & www.ebooksgratuits.com\nDaniel De Fo\u00eb\nVIE\nET\nAVENTURES\nDE\nROBINSON CRUSOE\n\u00c9CRITES\nPAR LUI-M\u00caME,\nTRADUITES\nPAR\nPETRUS\nBOREL.\nTOME SECOND.\nFRANCISQUE BOREL\nET\nALEXANDRE VARENNE.\nTable des mati\u00e8res\nLE VIEUX CAPITAINE PORTUGAIS\nD\u00c9FAILLANCE\nLE GUIDE ATTAQU\u00c9 PAR DES LOUPS\nVENDREDI MONTRE \u00c0 DANSER \u00c0 L'OURS\nCOMBAT AVEC LES LOUPS\nLES DEUX NEVEUX\nENTRETIEN DE ROBINSON AVEC SA FEMME\nPROPOSITION DU NEVEU\nLE VAISSEAU INCENDI\u00c9\nREQU\u00caTE DES INCENDI\u00c9S\nLA CABINE\nRETOUR DANS L'\u00ceLE\nBATTERIE DES INSULAIRES\nBRIGANDAGE DES TROIS VAURIENS\nSOUMISSION DES TROIS VAURIENS\nPRISE DES TROIS FUYARDS\nNOUVEL ATTENTAT DE WILL ATKINS\nCAPTIFS OFFERTS EN PR\u00c9SENT\nLOTERIE\nFUITE \u00c0 LA GROTTE\nD\u00c9FENSE DES DEUX ANGLAIS\nNOUVELLE INCURSION DES INDIENS\nMORT DE FAIM!...\nHABITATION DE WILLIAM ATKINS\nDISTRIBUTION DES OUTILS\nCONF\u00c9RENCE\nSUITE DE LA CONF\u00c9RENCE\nARRIV\u00c9E CHEZ LES ANGLAIS\nCONVERSION DE WILLIAM ATKINS\nMARIAGES\nDIALOGUE\nCONVERSION DE LA FEMME D'ATKINS\nBAPT\u00caME DE LA FEMME D'ATKINS\nLA BIBLE\n\u00c9PISODE DE LA CABINE\nMORT DE VENDREDI\nEMBARQUEMENT DE BESTIAUX POUR L'\u00ceLE\nTHOMAS JEFFRYS\nTHOMAS JEFFRYS PENDU\nSACCAGEMENT DU VILLAGE INDIEN\nMUTINERIE\nPROPOSITION DU N\u00c9GOCIANT ANGLAIS\nRENCONTRE DU CANONNIER\nAFFAIRE DES CINQ CHALOUPES\nCOMBAT \u00c0 LA POIX\nLE VIEUX PILOTE PORTUGAIS\nARRIV\u00c9E \u00c0 QUINCHANG\nLE N\u00c9GOCIANT JAPONAIS\nVOYAGE \u00c0 NANKING\nLE DON QUICHOTTE CHINOIS.\nLA GRANDE MURAILLE.\nCHAMEAU VOL\u00c9.\nLES TARTARES-MONGOLS.\nCHAM-CHI-THAUNGU.\nDESTRUCTION DE CHAM-CHI-THAUNGU.\nLES TONGOUSES.\nLE PRINCE MOSCOVITE.\nLE FILS DU PRINCE MOSCOVITE.\nDERNI\u00c8RE AFFAIRE.\nLE VIEUX CAPITAINE PORTUGAIS\nQuand j'arrivai en Angleterre, j'\u00e9tais parfaitement \u00e9tranger \u00e0 tout le\nmonde, comme si je n'y eusse jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 connu. Ma bienfaitrice, ma\nfid\u00e8le intendante \u00e0 qui j'avais laiss\u00e9 en d\u00e9p\u00f4t mon argent, vivait\nencore, mais elle avait essuy\u00e9 de grandes infortunes dans le monde; et,\ndevenue veuve pour la seconde fois, elle vivait ch\u00e9tivement. Je la mis \u00e0\nl'aise quant \u00e0 ce qu'elle me devait, en lui donnant l'assurance que je\nne la chagrinerais point. Bien au contraire, en reconnaissance de ses\npremiers soins et de sa fid\u00e9lit\u00e9 envers moi, je l'assistai autant que le\ncomportait mon petit avoir, qui pour lors, il est vrai, ne me permit pas\nde faire beaucoup pour elle. Mais je lui jurai que je garderais toujours\nsouvenance de son ancienne amiti\u00e9 pour moi. Et vraiment je ne l'oubliai\npas lorsque je fus en position de la secourir, comme on pourra le voir\nen son lieu.\nJe m'en allai ensuite dans le Yorkshire. Mon p\u00e8re et ma m\u00e8re \u00e9taient\nmorts et toute ma famille \u00e9teinte, hormis deux s\u0153urs et deux enfants de\nl'un de mes fr\u00e8res. Comme depuis long-temps je passais pour mort, on ne\nm'avait rien r\u00e9serv\u00e9 dans le partage. Bref je ne trouvai ni appui ni\nsecours, et le petit capital que j'avais n'\u00e9tait pas suffisant pour\nfonder mon \u00e9tablissement dans le monde.\n\u00c0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je re\u00e7us une marque de gratitude \u00e0 laquelle je ne\nm'attendais pas: le capitaine que j'avais si heureusement d\u00e9livr\u00e9 avec\nson navire et sa cargaison, ayant fait \u00e0 ses armateurs un beau r\u00e9cit de\nla mani\u00e8re dont j'avais sauv\u00e9 le b\u00e2timent et l'\u00e9quipage, ils\nm'invit\u00e8rent avec quelques autres marchands int\u00e9ress\u00e9s \u00e0 les venir voir,\net touts ensemble ils m'honor\u00e8rent d'un fort gracieux compliment \u00e0 ce\nsujet et d'un pr\u00e9sent d'environ deux cents livres sterling.\nApr\u00e8s beaucoup de r\u00e9flexions, sur ma position, et sur le peu de moyens\nque j'avais de m'\u00e9tablir dans le monde, je r\u00e9solus de m'en aller \u00e0\nLisbonne, pour voir si je ne pourrais pas obtenir quelques informations\nsur l'\u00e9tat de ma plantation au Br\u00e9sil, et sur ce qu'\u00e9tait devenu mon\npartner, qui, j'avais tout lieu de le supposer, avait d\u00fb depuis bien des\nann\u00e9es me mettre au rang des morts.\nDans cette vue, je m'embarquai pour Lisbonne, o\u00f9 j'arrivai au mois\nd'avril suivant. Mon serviteur VENDREDI m'accompagna avec beaucoup de\nd\u00e9vouement dans toutes ces courses, et se montra le gar\u00e7on le plus\nfid\u00e8le en toute occasion.\nQuand j'eus mis pied \u00e0 terre \u00e0 Lisbonne je trouvai apr\u00e8s quelques\nrecherches, et \u00e0 ma toute particuli\u00e8re satisfaction, mon ancien ami le\ncapitaine qui jadis m'avait accueilli en mer \u00e0 la c\u00f4te d'Afrique. Vieux\nalors, il avait abandonn\u00e9 la mer, apr\u00e8s avoir laiss\u00e9 son navire \u00e0 son\nfils, qui n'\u00e9tait plus un jeune homme, et qui continuait de commercer\navec le Br\u00e9sil. Le vieillard ne me reconnut pas, et au fait je le\nreconnaissais \u00e0 peine; mais je me r\u00e9tablis dans son souvenir aussit\u00f4t\nque je lui eus dit qui j'\u00e9tais.\nApr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9chang\u00e9 quelques expressions affectueuses de notre ancienne\nconnaissance, je m'informai, comme on peut le croire, de ma plantation\net de mon partner. Le vieillard me dit: \u00ab--Je ne suis pas all\u00e9 au Br\u00e9sil\ndepuis environ neuf ans; je puis n\u00e9anmoins vous assurer que lors de mon\ndernier voyage votre partner vivait encore, mais les curateurs que vous\nlui aviez adjoints pour avoir l'\u0153il sur votre portion \u00e9taient morts\ntouts les deux. Je crois cependant que vous pourriez avoir un compte\ntr\u00e8s-exact du rapport de votre plantation; parce que, sur la croyance\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale qu'ayant fait naufrage vous aviez \u00e9t\u00e9 noy\u00e9, vos curateurs ont\nvers\u00e9 le produit de votre part de la plantation dans les mains du\nProcureur-Fiscal, qui en a assign\u00e9,--en cas que vous ne revinssiez\njamais le r\u00e9clamer,--un tiers au Roi et deux tiers au monast\u00e8re de\nSaint-Augustin, pour \u00eatre employ\u00e9s au soulagement des pauvres, et \u00e0 la\nconversion des Indiens \u00e0 la foi catholique.--Nonobstant, si vous vous\npr\u00e9sentiez, ou quelqu'un fond\u00e9 de pouvoir, pour r\u00e9clamer cet h\u00e9ritage,\nil serait restitu\u00e9, except\u00e9 le revenu ou produit annuel, qui, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9\naffect\u00e9 \u00e0 des \u0153uvres charitables, ne peut \u00eatre reversible. Je vous\nassure que l'Intendant du Roi et le Proveedor, ou majordome du\nmonast\u00e8re, ont toujours eu grand soin que le b\u00e9n\u00e9ficier, c'est-\u00e0-dire\nvotre partner, leur rend\u00eet chaque ann\u00e9e un compte fid\u00e8le du revenu\ntotal, dont ils ont d\u00fbment per\u00e7u votre moiti\u00e9.\u00bb\nJe lui demandai s'il savait quel accroissement avait pris ma plantation;\ns'il pensait qu'elle val\u00fbt la peine de s'en occuper, ou si, allant sur\nles lieux, je ne rencontrerais pas d'obstacle pour rentrer dans mes\ndroits \u00e0 la moiti\u00e9.\nIl me r\u00e9pondit:--\u00abJe ne puis vous dire exactement \u00e0 quel point votre\nplantation s'est am\u00e9lior\u00e9e, mais je sais que votre partner est devenu\nexcessivement riche par la seule jouissance de sa portion. Ce dont j'ai\nmeilleure souvenance, c'est d'avoir ou\u00ef dire que le tiers de votre\nportion, d\u00e9volu au Roi, et qui, ce me semble, a \u00e9t\u00e9 octroy\u00e9 \u00e0 quelque\nmonast\u00e8re ou maison religieuse, montait \u00e0 plus 200 MOIDORES par an.\nQuant \u00e0 \u00eatre r\u00e9tabli en paisible possession de votre bien, cela ne fait\npas de doute, votre partner vivant encore pour t\u00e9moigner de vos droits,\net votre nom \u00e9tant enregistr\u00e9 sur le cadastre du pays.\u00bb--Il me dit\naussi:--\u00abLes survivants de vos deux curateurs sont de tr\u00e8s-probes et de\ntr\u00e8s-honn\u00eates gens, fort riches, et je pense que non-seulement vous\naurez leur assistance pour rentrer en possession, mais que vous\ntrouverez entre leurs mains pour votre compte une somme\ntr\u00e8s-consid\u00e9rable. C'est le produit de la plantation pendant que leurs\np\u00e8res en avaient la curat\u00e8le, et avant qu'ils s'en fussent dessaisis\ncomme je vous le disais tout-\u00e0-l'heure, ce qui eut lieu, autant que je\nme le rappelle, il y a environ douze ans.\u00bb\n\u00c0 ce r\u00e9cit je montrai un peu de tristesse et d'inqui\u00e9tude, et je\ndemandai au vieux capitaine comment il \u00e9tait advenu que mes curateurs\neussent ainsi dispos\u00e9 de mes biens, quand il n'ignorait pas que j'avais\nfait mon testament, et que je l'avais institu\u00e9, lui, le capitaine\nportugais mon l\u00e9gataire universel.\n--\u00abCela est vrai, me r\u00e9pondit-il; mais, comme il n'y avait point de\npreuves de votre mort, je ne pouvais agir comme ex\u00e9cuteur testamentaire\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'en eusse acquis quelque certitude. En outre, je ne me\nsentais pas port\u00e9 \u00e0 m'entremettre dans une affaire si lointaine.\nToutefois j'ai fait enregistrer votre testament, et je l'ai revendiqu\u00e9;\net, si j'eusse pu constater que vous \u00e9tiez mort ou vivant, j'aurais agi\npar procuration, et pris possession de l'_engenho_,--c'est ainsi que les\nPortugais nomment une sucrerie--et j'aurais donn\u00e9 ordre de le faire \u00e0\nmon fils, qui \u00e9tait alors au Br\u00e9sil.\n--\u00bb Mais, poursuivit le vieillard, j'ai une autre nouvelle \u00e0 vous\ndonner, qui peut-\u00eatre ne vous sera pas si agr\u00e9able que les autres: c'est\nque, vous croyant perdu, et tout le monde le croyant aussi, votre\npartner et vos curateurs m'ont offert de s'accommoder avec moi, en votre\nnom, pour le revenu des six ou huit premi\u00e8res ann\u00e9es, lequel j'ai re\u00e7u.\nCependant de grandes d\u00e9penses ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 faites alors pour augmenter la\nplantation, pour b\u00e2tir un _engenho_ et acheter des esclaves, ce produit\nne s'est pas \u00e9lev\u00e9 \u00e0 beaucoup pr\u00e8s aussi haut que par la suite.\nN\u00e9anmoins je vous rendrai un compte exact de tout ce que j'ai re\u00e7u et de\nla mani\u00e8re dont j'en ai dispos\u00e9.\u00bb\nApr\u00e8s quelques jours de nouvelles conf\u00e9rences avec ce vieil ami, il me\nremit un compte du revenu des six premi\u00e8res ann\u00e9es de ma plantation,\nsign\u00e9 par mon partner et mes deux curateurs, et qui lui avait toujours\n\u00e9t\u00e9 livr\u00e9 en marchandises: telles que du tabac en rouleau, et du sucre\nen caisse, sans parler du _rum_, de la m\u00e9lasph\u00e6rule, produit oblig\u00e9\nd'une sucrerie. Je reconnus par ce compte que le revenu s'accroissait\nconsid\u00e9rablement chaque ann\u00e9e: mais, comme il a \u00e9t\u00e9 dit pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment,\nles d\u00e9penses ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 grandes, le boni fut petit d'abord. Cependant, le\nvieillard me fit voir qu'il \u00e9tait mon d\u00e9biteur pour 470 MOIDORES; outre,\n60 caisses de sucre et 15 doubles rouleaux de tabac, qui s'\u00e9taient\nperdus dans son navire, ayant fait naufrage en revenant \u00e0 Lisbonne,\nenviron onze ans apr\u00e8s mon d\u00e9part du Br\u00e9sil.\nCet homme de bien se prit alors \u00e0 se plaindre de ses malheurs, qui\nl'avaient contraint \u00e0 faire usage de mon argent pour recouvrer ses\npertes et acheter une part dans un autre navire.--\u00abQuoi qu'il en soit,\nmon vieil ami, ajouta-t-il, vous ne manquerez pas de secours dans votre\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9, et aussit\u00f4t que mon fils sera de retour, vous serez\npleinement satisfait.\u00bb\nL\u00e0-dessus il tira une vieille escarcelle, et me donna 160 MOIDORES\nportugais en or. Ensuite, me pr\u00e9sentant les actes de ses droits sur le\nb\u00e2timent avec lequel son fils \u00e9tait all\u00e9 au Br\u00e9sil, et dans lequel il\n\u00e9tait int\u00e9ress\u00e9 pour un quart et son fils pour un autre, il me les remit\ntouts entre les mains en nantissement du reste.\nJ'\u00e9tais beaucoup trop touch\u00e9 de la probit\u00e9 et de la candeur de ce pauvre\nhomme pour accepter cela; et, me rem\u00e9morant tout ce qu'il avait fait\npour moi, comment il m'avait accueilli en mer, combien il en avait us\u00e9\ng\u00e9n\u00e9reusement \u00e0 mon \u00e9gard en toute occasion, et combien surtout il se\nmontrait en ce moment ami sinc\u00e8re, je fus sur le point de pleurer quand\nil m'adressait ces paroles. Aussi lui demandai-je d'abord si sa\nsituation lui permettait de se d\u00e9pouiller de tant d'argent \u00e0 la fois, et\nsi cela ne le g\u00eanerait point. Il me r\u00e9pondit qu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 cela\npourrait le g\u00eaner un peu, mais que ce n'en \u00e9tait pas moins mon argent,\net que j'en avais peut-\u00eatre plus besoin que lui.\nTout ce que me disait ce galant homme \u00e9tait si affectueux que je pouvais\n\u00e0 peine retenir mes larmes. Bref, je pris une centaine de MOIDORES, et\nlui demandai une plume et de l'encre pour lui en faire un re\u00e7u; puis je\nlui rendis le reste, et lui dis: \u00ab--Si jamais je rentre en possession de\nma plantation, je vous remettrai toute la somme,--comme effectivement je\nfis plus tard;--et quant au titre de propri\u00e9t\u00e9 de votre part sur le\nnavire de votre fils, je ne veux en aucune fa\u00e7on l'accepter; si je\nvenais \u00e0 avoir besoin d'argent, je vous tiens assez honn\u00eate pour me\npayer; si au contraire je viens \u00e0 palper celui que vous me faites\nesp\u00e9rer, je ne recevrai plus jamais un penny de vous.\u00bb\nQuand ceci fut entendu, le vieillard me demanda s'il ne pourrait pas me\nservir en quelque chose dans la r\u00e9clamation de ma plantation. Je lui dis\nque je pensais aller moi-m\u00eame sur les lieux.--\u00abVous pouvez faire ainsi,\nreprit-il, si cela vous pla\u00eet; mais, dans le cas contraire, il y a bien\ndes moyens d'assurer vos droits et de recouvrer imm\u00e9diatement la\njouissance de vos revenus.\u00bb--Et, comme il se trouvait dans la rivi\u00e8re de\nLisbonne des vaisseaux pr\u00eats \u00e0 partir pour le Br\u00e9sil, il me fit inscrire\nmon nom dans un registre public, avec une attestation de sa part,\naffirmant, sous serment, que j'\u00e9tais en vie, et que j'\u00e9tais bien la m\u00eame\npersonne qui avait entrepris autrefois le d\u00e9frichement et la culture de\nladite plantation.\n\u00c0 cette d\u00e9position r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement l\u00e9galis\u00e9e par un notaire, il me\nconseilla d'annexer une procuration, et de l'envoyer avec une lettre de\nsa main \u00e0 un marchand de sa connaissance qui \u00e9tait sur les lieux. Puis\nil me proposa de demeurer avec lui jusqu'\u00e0 ce que j'eusse re\u00e7u r\u00e9ponse.\nD\u00c9FAILLANCE\nIl ne fut jamais rien de plus honorable que les proc\u00e9d\u00e9s dont ma\nprocuration fut suivie: car en moins de sept mois il m'arriva de la part\ndes survivants de mes curateurs, les marchands pour le compte desquels\nje m'\u00e9tais embarqu\u00e9, un gros paquet contenant les lettres et papiers\nsuivants:\n1\u00ba. Il y avait un compte courant du produit de ma ferme en plantation\ndurant dix ann\u00e9es, depuis que leurs p\u00e8res avaient r\u00e9gl\u00e9 avec mon vieux\ncapitaine du Portugal; la balance semblait \u00eatre en ma faveur de 1174\nMOIDORES.\n2\u00ba. Il y avait un compte de quatre ann\u00e9es en sus, o\u00f9 les immeubles\n\u00e9taient rest\u00e9s entre leurs mains avant que le gouvernement en e\u00fbt\nr\u00e9clam\u00e9 l'administration comme \u00e9tant les biens d'une personne ne se\nretrouvant point, ce qui constitue Mort Civile. La balance de celui-ci,\nvu l'accroissement de la plantation, montait en cascade \u00e0 la valeur de\n3241 MOIDORES.\n3\u00ba Il y avait le compte du Prieur des Augustins, qui, ayant per\u00e7u mes\nrevenus pendant plus de quatorze ans, et ne devant pas me rembourser ce\ndont il avait dispos\u00e9 en faveur de l'h\u00f4pital, d\u00e9clarait tr\u00e8s-honn\u00eatement\nqu'il avait encore entre les mains 873 MOIDORES et reconnaissait me les\ndevoir.--Quant \u00e0 la part du Roi, je n'en tirai rien.\nIl y avait aussi une lettre de mon partner me f\u00e9licitant\ntr\u00e8s-affectueusement de ce que j'\u00e9tais encore de ce monde, et me donnant\ndes d\u00e9tails sur l'am\u00e9lioration de ma plantation, sur ce qu'elle\nproduisait par an, sur la quantit\u00e9 d'acres qu'elle contenait, sur sa\nculture et sur le nombre d'esclaves qui l'exploitaient. Puis, faisant\nvingt-deux Croix en signe de b\u00e9n\u00e9diction, il m'assurait qu'il avait dit\nautant d'AVE MARIA pour remercier la tr\u00e8s-SAINTE-VIERGE de ce que je\njouissais encore de la vie; et m'engageait fortement \u00e0 venir moi-m\u00eame\nprendre possession de ma propri\u00e9t\u00e9, ou \u00e0 lui faire savoir en quelles\nmains il devait remettre mes biens, si je ne venais pas moi-m\u00eame. Il\nfinissait par de tendres et cordiales protestations de son amiti\u00e9 et de\ncelle de sa famille, et m'adressait en pr\u00e9sent sept belles peaux de\nl\u00e9opards, qu'il avait sans doute re\u00e7ues d'Afrique par quelque autre\nnavire qu'il y avait envoy\u00e9, et qui apparemment avaient fait un plus\nheureux voyage que moi. Il m'adressait aussi cinq caisses d'excellentes\nconfitures, et une centaine de pi\u00e8ces d'or non monnay\u00e9es, pas\ntout-\u00e0-fait si grandes que des MOIDORES.\nPar la m\u00eame flotte mes curateurs m'exp\u00e9di\u00e8rent 1200 caisses de sucre,\n800 rouleaux du tabac, et le solde de leur compte en or.\nJe pouvais bien dire alors avec v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que la fin de Job \u00e9tait meilleure\nque le commencement. Il serait impossible d'exprimer les agitations de\nmon c\u0153ur \u00e0 la lecture de ces lettres, et surtout quand je me vis entour\u00e9\nde touts mes biens; car les navires du Br\u00e9sil venant toujours en flotte,\nles m\u00eames vaisseaux qui avaient apport\u00e9 mes lettres avaient aussi\napport\u00e9 mes richesses, et mes marchandises \u00e9taient en s\u00fbret\u00e9 dans le\nTage avant que j'eusse la missive entre les mains. Bref, je devins p\u00e2le;\nle c\u0153ur me tourna, et si le bon vieillard n'\u00e9tait accouru et ne m'avait\napport\u00e9 un cordial, je crois que ma joie soudaine aurait exc\u00e9d\u00e9 ma\nnature, et que je serais mort sur la place.\nMalgr\u00e9 cela, je continuai \u00e0 aller fort mal pendant quelques heures,\njusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'on e\u00fbt appel\u00e9 un m\u00e9decin, qui, apprenant la cause r\u00e9elle\nde mon indisposition, ordonna de me faire saigner, apr\u00e8s quoi je me\nsentis mieux et je me remis. Mais je crois v\u00e9ritablement que, si je\nn'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 soulag\u00e9 par l'air que de cette mani\u00e8re on donna pour ainsi\ndire \u00e0 mes esprits, j'aurais succomb\u00e9.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors tout d'un coup ma\u00eetre de plus de 50,000 livres sterling en\nesp\u00e8ces, et au Br\u00e9sil d'un domaine, je peux bien l'appeler ainsi,\nd'environ mille livres sterling de revenu annuel, et aussi s\u00fbr que peut\nl'\u00eatre une propri\u00e9t\u00e9 en Angleterre. En un mot, j'\u00e9tais dans une\nsituation que je pouvais \u00e0 peine concevoir, et je ne savais quelles\ndispositions prendre pour en jouir.\nAvant toutes choses, ce que je fis, ce fut de r\u00e9compenser mon premier\nbienfaiteur, mon bon vieux capitaine, qui tout d'abord avait eu pour moi\nde la charit\u00e9 dans ma d\u00e9tresse, de la bont\u00e9 au commencement de notre\nliaison et de la probit\u00e9 sur la fin. Je lui montrai ce qu'on m'envoyait,\net lui dis qu'apr\u00e8s la Providence c\u00e9leste, qui dispose de toutes choses,\nc'\u00e9tait \u00e0 lui que j'en \u00e9tais redevable, et qu'il me restait \u00e0 le\nr\u00e9compenser, ce que je ferais au centuple. Je lui rendis donc\npremi\u00e8rement les 100 MOIDORES que j'avais re\u00e7us de lui; puis j'envoyai\nchercher un tabellion et je le priai de dresser en bonne et due forme\nune quittance g\u00e9n\u00e9rale ou d\u00e9charge des 470 MOIDORES qu'il avait reconnu\nme devoir. Ensuite je lui demandai de me r\u00e9diger une procuration,\nl'investissant receveur des revenus annuels de ma plantation, et\nprescrivant \u00e0 mon partner de compter avec lui, et de lui faire en mon\nnom ses remises par les flottes ordinaires. Une clause finale lui\nassurait un don annuel de 100 MOIDORES sa vie durant, et \u00e0 son fils,\napr\u00e8s sa mort, une rente viag\u00e8re de 50 MOIDORES. C'est ainsi que je\nm'acquittai envers mon bon vieillard.\nJe me pris alors \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer de quel c\u00f4t\u00e9 je gouvernerais ma course, et\nce que je ferais du domaine que la Providence avait ainsi replac\u00e9 entre\nmes mains. En v\u00e9rit\u00e9 j'avais plus de soucis en t\u00eate que je n'en avais\neus pendant ma vie silencieuse dans l'\u00eele, o\u00f9 je n'avais besoin que de\nce que j'avais, o\u00f9 je n'avais que ce dont j'avais besoin; tandis qu'\u00e0\ncette heure j'\u00e9tais sous le poids d'un grand fardeau que je ne savais\ncomment mettre \u00e0 couvert. Je n'avais plus de caverne pour y cacher mon\ntr\u00e9sor, ni de lieu o\u00f9 il p\u00fbt loger sans serrure et sans clef, et se\nternir et se moisir avant que personne m\u00eet la main dessus. Bien au\ncontraire, je ne savais o\u00f9 l'h\u00e9berger, ni \u00e0 qui le confier. Mon vieux\npatron, le capitaine, \u00e9tait, il est vrai, un homme int\u00e8gre: ce fut lui\nmon seul refuge.\nSecondement, mon int\u00e9r\u00eat semblait m'appeler au Br\u00e9sil; mais je ne\npouvais songer \u00e0 y aller avant d'avoir arrang\u00e9 mes affaires, et laiss\u00e9\nderri\u00e8re moi ma fortune en mains s\u00fbres. Je pensai d'abord \u00e0 ma vieille\namie la veuve, que je savais honn\u00eate et ne pouvoir qu'\u00eatre loyale envers\nmoi; mais alors elle \u00e9tait \u00e2g\u00e9e, pauvre, et, selon toute apparence,\npeut-\u00eatre endett\u00e9e. Bref, je n'avais ainsi d'autre parti \u00e0 prendre que\nde m'en retourner en Angleterre et d'emporter mes richesses avec moi.\nQuelques mois pourtant s'\u00e9coul\u00e8rent avant que je me d\u00e9terminasse \u00e0 cela;\net c'est pourquoi, lorsque je me fus parfaitement acquitt\u00e9 envers mon\nvieux capitaine, mon premier bienfaiteur, je pensai aussi \u00e0 ma pauvre\nveuve, dont le mari avait \u00e9t\u00e9 mon plus ancien patron, et elle-m\u00eame, tant\nqu'elle l'avait pu, ma fid\u00e8le intendante et ma directrice. Mon premier\nsoin fut de charger un marchand de Lisbonne d'\u00e9crire \u00e0 son correspondant\n\u00e0 Londres, non pas seulement de lui payer un billet, mais d'aller la\ntrouver et de lui remettre de ma part 100 livres sterling en esp\u00e8ces, de\njaser avec elle, de la consoler dans sa pauvret\u00e9, en lui donnant\nl'assurance que, si Dieu me pr\u00eatait vie, elle aurait de nouveaux\nsecours. En m\u00eame temps j'envoyai dans leur province 100 livres sterling\n\u00e0 chacune de mes s\u0153urs, qui, bien qu'elles ne fussent pas dans le\nbesoin, ne se trouvaient pas dans de tr\u00e8s-heureuses circonstances, l'une\n\u00e9tant veuve, et l'autre ayant un mari qui n'\u00e9tait pas aussi bon pour\nelle qu'il l'aurait d\u00fb.\nMais parmi touts mes parents en connaissances, je ne pouvais faire choix\nde personne \u00e0 qui j'osasse confier le gros de mon capital, afin que je\npusse aller au Br\u00e9sil et le laisser en s\u00fbret\u00e9 derri\u00e8re moi. Cela me jeta\ndans une grande perplexit\u00e9.\nJ'eus une fois l'envie d'aller au Br\u00e9sil et de m'y \u00e9tablir, car j'\u00e9tais\npour ainsi dire naturalis\u00e9 dans cette contr\u00e9e; mais il s'\u00e9veilla en mon\nesprit quelques petits scrupules religieux qui insensiblement me\nd\u00e9tach\u00e8rent de ce dessein, dont il sera reparl\u00e9 tout-\u00e0-l'heure.\nToutefois ce n'\u00e9tait pas la d\u00e9votion qui pour lors me retenait; comme je\nne m'\u00e9tais fait aucun scrupule de professer publiquement la religion du\npays tout le temps que j'y avais s\u00e9journ\u00e9, pourquoi ne l'euss\u00e9-je pas\nfait encore[1].\nNon, comme je l'ai dit, ce n'\u00e9tait point l\u00e0 la principale cause qui\ns'oppos\u00e2t \u00e0 mon d\u00e9part pour le Br\u00e9sil, c'\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement parce que je\nne savais \u00e0 qui laisser mon avoir. Je me d\u00e9terminai donc enfin \u00e0 me\nrendre avec ma fortune en Angleterre, o\u00f9, si j'y parvenais, je me\npromettais de faire quelque connaissance ou de trouver quelque parent\nqui ne serait point infid\u00e8le envers moi. En cons\u00e9quence je me pr\u00e9parai \u00e0\npartir pour l'Angleterre avec toutes mes richesses.\n\u00c0 dessein de tout disposer pour mon retour dans ma patrie,--la flotte du\nBr\u00e9sil \u00e9tant sur le point de faire voile,--je r\u00e9solus d'abord de\nr\u00e9pondre convenablement aux comptes justes et fid\u00e8les que j'avais re\u00e7us.\nJ'\u00e9crivis premi\u00e8rement au Prieur de Saint-Augustin une lettre de\nremerciement pour ses proc\u00e9d\u00e9s sinc\u00e8res, et je le priai de vouloir bien\naccepter les 872 MOIDORES dont il n'avait point dispos\u00e9; d'en affecter\n500 au monast\u00e8re et 372 aux pauvres, comme bon lui semblerait. Enfin je\nme recommandai aux pri\u00e8res du r\u00e9v\u00e9rend P\u00e8re, et autres choses\nsemblables.\nJ'\u00e9crivis ensuite une lettre d'action de gr\u00e2ces \u00e0 mes deux curateurs,\navec toute la reconnaissance que tant de droiture et de probit\u00e9\nrequ\u00e9rait. Quant \u00e0 leur adresser un pr\u00e9sent, ils \u00e9taient pour cela trop\nau-dessus de toutes n\u00e9cessit\u00e9s.\nFinalement j'\u00e9crivis \u00e0 mon partner, pour le f\u00e9liciter de son industrie\ndans l'am\u00e9lioration de la plantation et de son int\u00e9grit\u00e9 dans\nl'accroissement de la somme des productions. Je lui donnai mes\ninstructions sur le gouvernement futur de ma part, conform\u00e9ment aux\npouvoirs que j'avais laiss\u00e9s \u00e0 mon vieux patron, \u00e0 qui je le priai\nd'envoyer ce qui me reviendrait, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il e\u00fbt plus\nparticuli\u00e8rement de mes nouvelles; l'assurant que mon intention \u00e9tait\nnon-seulement d'aller le visiter, mais encore de m'\u00e9tablir au Br\u00e9sil\npour le reste de ma vie. \u00c0 cela j'ajoutai pour sa femme et ses\nfilles,--le fils du capitaine m'en avait parl\u00e9,--le fort galant cadeau\nde quelques soieries d'Italie, de deux pi\u00e8ces de drap fin anglais, le\nmeilleur que je pus trouver dans Lisbonne, de cinq pi\u00e8ces de frise noire\net de quelques dentelles de Flandres de grand prix.\nAyant ainsi mis ordre \u00e0 mes affaires, vendu ma cargaison et converti\ntout mon avoir en bonnes lettres de change, mon nouvel embarras fut le\nchoix de la route \u00e0 prendre pour passer en Angleterre. J'\u00e9tais assez\naccoutum\u00e9 \u00e0 la mer, et pourtant je me sentais alors une \u00e9trange aversion\npour ce trajet; et, quoique je n'en eusse pu donner la raison, cette\nr\u00e9pugnance s'accrut tellement, que je changeai d'avis, et fis rapporter\nmon bagage, embarqu\u00e9 pour le d\u00e9part, non-seulement une fois, mais deux\nou trois fois.\nIl est vrai que mes malheurs sur mer pouvaient bien \u00eatre une des raisons\nde ces appr\u00e9hensions; mais qu'en pareille circonstance nul homme ne\nm\u00e9prise les fortes impulsions de ses pens\u00e9es intimes. Deux des vaisseaux\nque j'avais choisis pour mon embarquement, j'entends plus\nparticuli\u00e8rement choisis qu'aucun autre; car dans l'un j'avais fait\nporter toutes mes valises, et quant \u00e0 l'autre j'avais fait march\u00e9 avec\nle capitaine; deux de ces vaisseaux, dis-je, furent perdus: le premier\nfut pris par les Alg\u00e9riens, le second fit naufrage vers le Start, pr\u00e8s\nde Torbay, et, trois hommes except\u00e9s, tout l'\u00e9quipage se noya. Ainsi\ndans l'un ou l'autre de ces vaisseaux j'eusse trouv\u00e9 le malheur. Et dans\nlequel le plus grand? Il est difficile de le dire.\nLE GUIDE ATTAQU\u00c9 PAR DES LOUPS\nMon esprit \u00e9tant ainsi harass\u00e9 par ces perplexit\u00e9s, mon vieux pilote, \u00e0\nqui je ne celais rien, me pria instamment de ne point aller sur mer,\nmais de me rendre par terre jusqu'\u00e0 La Corogne, de traverser le golfe de\nBiscaye pour atteindre La Rochelle, d'o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait ais\u00e9 de voyager\ns\u00fbrement par terre jusqu'\u00e0 Paris, et de l\u00e0 de gagner Calais et Douvres,\nou bien d'aller \u00e0 Madrid et de traverser toute la France.\nBref, j'avais une telle appr\u00e9hension de la mer, que, sauf de Calais \u00e0\nDouvres, je r\u00e9solus de faire toute la route par terre; comme je n'\u00e9tais\npoint press\u00e9 et que peu m'importait la d\u00e9pense, c'\u00e9tait bien le plus\nagr\u00e9able chemin. Pour qu'il le f\u00fbt plus encore, mon vieux capitaine\nm'amena un Anglais, un gentleman, fils d'un n\u00e9gociant de Lisbonne, qui\n\u00e9tait d\u00e9sireux d'entreprendre ce voyage avec moi. Nous recueill\u00eemes en\noutre deux marchands anglais et deux jeunes gentilshommes portugais: ces\nderniers n'allaient que jusqu'\u00e0 Paris seulement. Nous \u00e9tions en tout six\nma\u00eetres et cinq serviteurs, les deux marchands et les deux Portugais se\ncontentant d'un valet pour deux, afin de sauver la d\u00e9pense. Quant \u00e0 moi,\npour le voyage je m'\u00e9tais attach\u00e9 un matelot anglais comme domestique,\noutre VENDREDI, qui \u00e9tait trop \u00e9tranger pour m'en tenir lieu durant la\nroute.\nNous part\u00eemes ainsi de Lisbonne. Notre compagnie \u00e9tant toute bien mont\u00e9e\net bien arm\u00e9e, nous formions une petite troupe dont on me fit l'honneur\nde me nommer capitaine, parce que j'\u00e9tais le plus \u00e2g\u00e9, que j'avais deux\nserviteurs, et qu'au fait j'\u00e9tais la cause premi\u00e8re du voyage.\nComme je ne vous ai point ennuy\u00e9 de mes journaux de mer, je ne vous\nfatiguerai point de mes journaux de terre; toutefois durant ce long et\ndifficile voyage quelques aventures nous advinrent que je ne puis\nomettre.\nQuand nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 Madrid, \u00e9tant touts \u00e9trangers \u00e0 l'Espagne, la\nfantaisie nous vint de nous y arr\u00eater quelque temps pour voir la Cour et\ntout ce qui \u00e9tait digne d'observation; mais, comme nous \u00e9tions sur la\nfin de l'\u00e9t\u00e9, nous nous h\u00e2t\u00e2mes, et quitt\u00e2mes Madrid environ au milieu\nd'octobre. En atteignant les fronti\u00e8res de la Navarre, nous f\u00fbmes\nalarm\u00e9s en apprenant dans quelques villes le long du chemin que tant de\nneige \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9e sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 fran\u00e7ais des montagnes, que plusieurs\nvoyageurs avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9s de retourner \u00e0 Pampelune, apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e0\ngrands risques tent\u00e9 passage.\nArriv\u00e9s \u00e0 Pampelune, nous trouv\u00e2mes qu'on avait dit vrai; et pour moi,\nqui avais toujours v\u00e9cu sous un climat chaud, dans des contr\u00e9es o\u00f9 je\npouvais \u00e0 peine endurer des v\u00eatements, le froid fut insupportable. Au\nfait, il n'\u00e9tait pas moins surprenant que p\u00e9nible d'avoir quitt\u00e9 dix\njours auparavant la Vieille-Castille, o\u00f9 le temps \u00e9tait non-seulement\nchaud mais br\u00fblant, et de sentir imm\u00e9diatement le vent des Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es si\nvif et si rude qu'il \u00e9tait insoutenable, et mettait nos doigts et nos\norteils en danger d'\u00eatre engourdis et gel\u00e9s. C'\u00e9tait vraiment \u00e9trange.\nLe pauvre VENDREDI fut r\u00e9ellement effray\u00e9 quand il vit ces montagnes\ntoutes couvertes de neige et qu'il sentit le froid de l'air, choses\nqu'il n'avait jamais ni vues ni ressenties de sa vie.\nPour couper court, apr\u00e8s que nous e\u00fbmes atteint Pampelune, il continua \u00e0\nneiger avec tant de violence et si long-temps, qu'on disait que l'hiver\n\u00e9tait venu avant son temps. Les routes, qui \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 difficiles,\nfurent alors tout-\u00e0-fait impraticables. En un mot, la neige se trouva en\nquelques endroits trop \u00e9paisse pour qu'on p\u00fbt voyager, et, n'\u00e9tant point\ndurcie; par la gel\u00e9e, comme dans les pays septentrionaux, on courait\nrisque d'\u00eatre enseveli vivant \u00e0 chaque pas. Nous ne nous, arr\u00eat\u00e2mes pas\nmoins de vingt jours \u00e0 Pampelune; mais, voyant que l'hiver s'approchait\nsans apparence d'adoucissement,--ce fut par toute l'Europe l'hiver le\nplus rigoureux qu'il y e\u00fbt eu depuis nombre d'ann\u00e9es,--je proposai\nd'aller \u00e0 Fontarabie, et l\u00e0 de nous embarquer pour Bordeaux, ce qui\nn'\u00e9tait qu'un tr\u00e8s-petit voyage.\nTandis que nous \u00e9tions \u00e0 d\u00e9lib\u00e9rer l\u00e0-dessus, il arriva quatre\ngentilshommes fran\u00e7ais, qui, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 arr\u00eat\u00e9s sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 fran\u00e7ais des\npassages comme nous sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 espagnol, avaient trouv\u00e9 un guide qui,\ntraversant le pays pr\u00e8s la pointe du Languedoc, leur avait fait passer\nles montagnes par de tels chemins, que la neige les avait peu\nincommod\u00e9s, et o\u00f9, quand il y en avait en quantit\u00e9, nous dirent-ils,\nelle \u00e9tait assez durcie par la gel\u00e9e pour les porter eux et leurs\nchevaux.\nNous envoy\u00e2mes qu\u00e9rir ce guide.--\u00abJ'entreprendrai de vous mener par le\nm\u00eame chemin, sans danger quant \u00e0 la neige, nous dit-il, pourvu que vous\nsoyez assez bien arm\u00e9s pour vous d\u00e9fendre des b\u00eates sauvages; car durant\nces grandes neiges il n'est pas rare que des loups, devenus enrag\u00e9s par\nle manque de nourriture, se fassent voir aux pieds des montagnes.\u00bb--Nous\nlui d\u00eemes que nous \u00e9tions suffisamment pr\u00e9munis contre de pareilles\ncr\u00e9atures, s'il nous pr\u00e9servait d'une esp\u00e8ce de loups \u00e0 deux jambes, que\nnous avions beaucoup \u00e0 redouter, nous disait-on, particuli\u00e8rement sur le\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 fran\u00e7ais des montagnes.\nIl nous affirma qu'il n'y avait point de danger de cette sorte par la\nroute que nous devions prendre. Nous consent\u00eemes donc sur-le-champ \u00e0 le\nsuivre. Le m\u00eame parti fut pris par douze autres gentilshommes avec leurs\ndomestiques, quelques-uns fran\u00e7ais, quelques-uns espagnols, qui, comme\nje l'ai dit avaient tent\u00e9 le voyage et s'\u00e9taient vus forc\u00e9s de revenir\nsur leurs pas.\nCons\u00e9quemment nous part\u00eemes de Pampelune avec notre guide vers le 15\nnovembre, et je fus vraiment surpris quand, au lieu de nous mener en\navant, je le vis nous faire rebrousser de plus de vingt milles, par la\nm\u00eame route que nous avions suivie en venant de Madrid. Ayant pass\u00e9 deux\nrivi\u00e8res et gagn\u00e9 le pays plat, nous nous retrouv\u00e2mes dans un climat\nchaud, o\u00f9 le pays \u00e9tait agr\u00e9able, et o\u00f9 l'on ne voyait aucune trace de\nneige; mais tout-\u00e0-coup, tournant \u00e0 gauche, il nous ramena vers les\nmontagnes par un autre chemin. Les rochers et les pr\u00e9cipices \u00e9taient\nvraiment effrayants \u00e0 voir; cependant il fit tant de tours et de\nd\u00e9tours, et nous conduisit par des chemins si tortueux,\nqu'insensiblement nous pass\u00e2mes le sommet des montagnes sans \u00eatre trop\nincommod\u00e9s par la neige. Et soudain il nous montra les agr\u00e9ables et\nfertiles provinces de Languedoc et de Gascogne, toutes vertes et\nfleurissantes, quoique, au fait, elles fussent \u00e0 une grande distance et\nque nous eussions encore bien du mauvais chemin.\nNous e\u00fbmes pourtant un peu \u00e0 d\u00e9compter, quand tout un jour et une nuit\nnous v\u00eemes neiger si fort que nous ne pouvions avancer. Mais notre guide\nnous dit de nous tranquilliser, que bient\u00f4t tout serait franchi. Nous\nnous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes en effet que nous descendions chaque jour, et que nous\nnous avancions plus au Nord qu'auparavant; nous reposant donc sur notre\nguide, nous poursuiv\u00eemes.\nDeux heures environ avant la nuit, notre guide \u00e9tait devant nous \u00e0\nquelque distance et hors de notre vue, quand soudain trois loups\nmonstrueux, suivis d'un ours, s'\u00e9lanc\u00e8rent d'un chemin creux joignant un\nbois \u00e9pais. Deux des loups se jet\u00e8rent sur le guide; et, s'il s'\u00e9tait\ntrouv\u00e9, seulement \u00e9loign\u00e9 d'un demi-mille, il aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr\nd\u00e9vor\u00e9 avant que nous eussions pu le secourir. L'un de ces animaux\ns'agrippa au cheval, et l'autre attaqua l'homme avec tant de violence,\nqu'il n'eut pas le temps ou la pr\u00e9sence d'esprit de s'armer de son\npistolet, mais il se prit \u00e0 crier et \u00e0 nous appeler de toute sa force.\nJ'ordonnai \u00e0 mon serviteur VENDREDI, qui \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s de moi, d'aller \u00e0\ntoute bride voir ce qui se passait. D\u00e8s qu'il fut \u00e0 port\u00e9e de vue du\nguide il se mit \u00e0 crier aussi fort que lui:--\u00abO ma\u00eetre! O\nma\u00eetre!\u00bb--Mais, comme un hardi compagnon, il galopa droit au pauvre\nhomme, et d\u00e9chargea son pistolet dans la t\u00eate du loup qui l'attaquait.\nPar bonheur pour le pauvre guide, ce fut mon serviteur VENDREDI qui vint\n\u00e0 son aide; car celui-ci, dans son pays, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 familiaris\u00e9 avec\ncette esp\u00e8ce d'animal, fondit sur lui sans peur et tira son coup \u00e0 bout\nportant; au lieu que tout autre de nous aurait tir\u00e9 de plus loin, et\npeut-\u00eatre manqu\u00e9 le loup, ou couru le danger de frapper l'homme.\nIl y avait l\u00e0 de quoi \u00e9pouvanter un plus vaillant que moi; et de fait\ntoute la compagnie s'alarma quand avec la d\u00e9tonation du pistolet de\nVENDREDI nous entend\u00eemes des deux c\u00f4t\u00e9s les affreux hurlements des\nloups, et ces cris tellement redoubl\u00e9s par l'\u00e9cho des montagnes, qu'on\ne\u00fbt dit qu'il y en avait une multitude prodigieuse; et peut-\u00eatre en\neffet leur nombre l\u00e9gitimait-il nos appr\u00e9hensions.\nQuoi qu'il en f\u00fbt, lorsque VENDREDI eut tu\u00e9 ce loup, l'autre, qui\ns'\u00e9tait cramponn\u00e9 au cheval, l'abandonna sur-le-champ et s'enfuit. Fort\nheureusement, comme il l'avait attaqu\u00e9 \u00e0 la t\u00eate, ses dents s'\u00e9taient\nfich\u00e9es dans les bossettes de la bride, de sorte qu'il lui avait fait\npeu de mal. Mais l'homme \u00e9tait gri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9: l'animal furieux lui\navait fait deux morsures, l'une au bras et l'autre un peu au-dessus du\ngenou, et il \u00e9tait juste sur le point d'\u00eatre renvers\u00e9 par son cheval\neffray\u00e9 quand VENDREDI accourut et tua le loup.\nOn imaginera facilement qu'au bruit du pistolet de VENDREDI nous\nfor\u00e7\u00e2mes touts notre pas et galop\u00e2mes aussi vite que nous le permettait\nun chemin ardu, pour voir ce que cela voulait dire. Sit\u00f4t que nous e\u00fbmes\npass\u00e9 les arbres qui nous offusquaient, nous v\u00eemes clairement de quoi il\ns'agissait, et de quel mauvais pas VENDREDI avait tir\u00e9 le pauvre guide,\nquoique nous ne pussions distinguer d'abord l'esp\u00e8ce d'animal qu'il\navait tu\u00e9e.\nMais jamais combat ne fut pr\u00e9sent\u00e9 plus hardiment et plus \u00e9trangement\nque celui qui suivit entre VENDREDI et l'ours, et qui, bien que nous\neussions \u00e9t\u00e9 premi\u00e8rement surpris et effray\u00e9s, nous donna \u00e0 touts le\nplus grand divertissement imaginable.--L'ours est un gros et pesant\nanimal; il ne galope point comme le loup, alerte et l\u00e9ger; mais il\nposs\u00e8de deux qualit\u00e9s particuli\u00e8res, sur lesquelles g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement il base\nses actions. Premi\u00e8rement, il ne fait point sa proie de l'homme, non pas\nque je veuille dire que la faim extr\u00eame ne l'y puisse forcer,--comme\ndans le cas pr\u00e9sent, la terre \u00e9tant couverte de neige,--et d'ordinaire\nil ne l'attaque que lorsqu'il en est attaqu\u00e9. Si vous le rencontrez dans\nles bois, et que vous ne vous m\u00ealiez pas de ses affaires, il ne se\nm\u00ealera pas des v\u00f4tres. Mais ayez soin d'\u00eatre tr\u00e8s-galant avec lui et de\nlui c\u00e9der la route; car c'est un gentleman fort chatouilleux, qui ne\nvoudrait point faire un pas hors de son chemin, f\u00fbt-ce pour un roi. Si\nr\u00e9ellement vous en \u00eates effray\u00e9, votre meilleur parti est de d\u00e9tourner\nles yeux et de poursuivre; car par hasard si vous vous arr\u00eatez, vous\ndemeurez coi et le regardez fixement, il prendra cela pour un affront,\net si vous lui jetiez ou lui lanciez quelque chose qui l'atteignit, ne\nserait-ce qu'un bout de b\u00e2ton gros comme votre doigt, il le\nconsid\u00e9rerait comme un outrage, et mettrait de c\u00f4t\u00e9 tout autre affaire\npour en tirer vengeance; car il veut avoir satisfaction sur le point\nd'honneur: c'est l\u00e0 sa premi\u00e8re qualit\u00e9. La seconde, c'est qu'une fois\noffens\u00e9, il ne vous laissera ni jour ni nuit, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il ait sa\nrevanche, et vous suivra, avec sa bonne grosse d\u00e9gaine, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il\nvous ait atteint.\nMon serviteur VENDREDI, lorsque nous le joign\u00eemes, avait d\u00e9livr\u00e9 notre\nguide, et l'aidait \u00e0 descendre de son cheval, car le pauvre homme \u00e9tait\nbless\u00e9 et effray\u00e9 plus encore, quand soudain nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes l'ours\nsortir du bois; il \u00e9tait monstrueux, et de beaucoup le plus gros que\nj'eusse jamais vu. \u00c0 son aspect nous f\u00fbmes touts un peu surpris; mais\nnous d\u00e9m\u00eal\u00e2mes ais\u00e9ment du courage et de la joie dans la contenance de\nVENDREDI.--\u00abO! O! O! s'\u00e9cria-t-il trois fois, en le montrant du doigt, O\nma\u00eetre! vous me donner cong\u00e9, moi donner une poign\u00e9e de main \u00e0 lui, moi\nvous faire vous bon rire.\u00bb\nVENDREDI MONTRE \u00c0 DANSER \u00c0 L'OURS\nJe fus \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de voir ce gar\u00e7on si transport\u00e9.--\u00abTu es fou, lui dis-je,\nil te d\u00e9vorera!\u00bb--\u00abD\u00e9vorer moi! d\u00e9vorer moi? r\u00e9p\u00e9ta VENDREDI. Moi\nd\u00e9vorer lui, moi faire vous bon rire; vous touts rester l\u00e0, moi montrer\nvous bon rire.\u00bb--Aussit\u00f4t il s'assied \u00e0 terre, en un tour de main \u00f4te\nses bottes, chausse une paire d'escarpins qu'il avait dans sa poche,\ndonne son cheval \u00e0 mon autre serviteur, et, arm\u00e9 de son fusil, se met \u00e0\ncourir comme le vent.\nL'ours se promenait tout doucement, sans songer \u00e0 troubler personne,\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que VENDREDI, arriv\u00e9 assez pr\u00e8s, se mit \u00e0 l'appeler comme\ns'il pouvait le comprendre:--\u00ab\u00c9coute! \u00e9coute! moi parler avec\ntoi.\u00bb--Nous suivions \u00e0 distance; car, ayant alors descendu le c\u00f4t\u00e9 des\nmontagnes qui regardent la Gascogne, nous \u00e9tions entr\u00e9s dans une immense\nfor\u00eat dont le sol plat \u00e9tait rempli de clairi\u00e8res parsem\u00e9es d'arbres \u00e7\u00e0\net l\u00e0.\nVENDREDI, qui \u00e9tait comme nous l'avons dit sur les talons de l'ours, le\njoignit promptement, ramassa une grosse pierre, la lui jeta et\nl'atteignit \u00e0 la t\u00eate; mais il ne lui fit pas plus de mal que s'il\nl'avait lanc\u00e9e contre un mur; elle r\u00e9pondait cependant \u00e0 ses fins, car\nle dr\u00f4le \u00e9tait si exempt de peur, qu'il ne faisait cela que pour obliger\nl'ours \u00e0 le poursuivre, et nous _montrer bon rire_, comme il disait.\nSit\u00f4t que l'ours sentit la pierre, et apper\u00e7ut VENDREDI, il se retourna,\net s'avan\u00e7a vers lui en faisant de longues et diaboliques enjamb\u00e9es,\nmarchant tout de guingois et d'une si \u00e9trange allure, qu'il aurait fait\nprendre \u00e0 un cheval le petit galop. VENDREDI s'enfuit et porta sa course\nde notre c\u00f4t\u00e9 comme pour demander du secours. Nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes donc aussi\nde faire feu touts ensemble sur l'ours, afin de d\u00e9livrer mon serviteur.\nJ'\u00e9tais cependant f\u00e2ch\u00e9 de tout c\u0153ur contre lui, pour avoir ainsi attir\u00e9\nla b\u00eate sur nous lorsqu'elle allait \u00e0 ses affaires par un autre chemin.\nJ'\u00e9tais surtout en col\u00e8re de ce qu'il l'avait d\u00e9tourn\u00e9e et puis avait\npris la fuite. Je l'appelai: \u00ab--Chien, lui dis-je, est-ce l\u00e0 nous faire\nrire? Arrive ici et reprends ton bidet, afin que nous puisions faire feu\nsur l'animal.\u00bb--Il m'entendit et cria:--\u00abPas tirer! pas tirer! rester\ntranquille: vous avoir beaucoup rire.\u00bb--Comme l'agile gar\u00e7on faisait\ndeux enjamb\u00e9es contre l'autre une, il tourna tout-\u00e0-coup de c\u00f4t\u00e9, et,\nappercevant un grand ch\u00eane propre pour son dessein, il nous fit signe de\nle suivre; puis, redoublant de prestesse, il monta lestement sur\nl'arbre, ayant laiss\u00e9 son fusil sur la terre, \u00e0 environ cinq ou six\nverges plus loin.\nL'ours arriva bient\u00f4t vers l'arbre. Nous le suivions \u00e0 distance. Son\npremier soin fut de s'arr\u00eater au fusil et de le flairer; puis, le\nlaissant l\u00e0, il s'agrippa \u00e0 l'arbre et grimpa comme un chat, malgr\u00e9 sa\nmonstrueuse pesanteur. J'\u00e9tais \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de la folie de mon serviteur, car\nj'envisageais cela comme tel; et, sur ma vie, je ne trouvais l\u00e0-dedans\nrien encore de risible, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que, voyant l'ours monter \u00e0 l'arbre,\nnous nous rapproch\u00e2mes de lui.\nQuand nous arriv\u00e2mes, VENDREDI avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 gagn\u00e9 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 d'une grosse\nbranche, et l'ours avait fait la moiti\u00e9 du chemin pour l'atteindre.\nAussit\u00f4t que l'animal parvint \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 la branche \u00e9tait plus\nfaible,--\u00abAh! nous cria VENDREDI, maintenant vous voir moi apprendre\nl'ours \u00e0 danser.\u00bb--Et il se mit \u00e0 sauter et \u00e0 secouer la branche.\nL'ours, commen\u00e7ant alors \u00e0 chanceler, s'arr\u00eata court et se prit \u00e0\nregarder derri\u00e8re lui pour voir comment il s'en retournerait, ce qui\neffectivement nous fit rire de tout c\u0153ur. Mais il s'en fallait de\nbeaucoup que VENDREDI e\u00fbt fini avec lui. Quand il le vit se tenir coi,\nil l'appela de nouveau, comme s'il e\u00fbt suppos\u00e9 que l'ours parlait\nanglais:--\u00abComment! toi pas venir plus loin? Moi prie toi venir plus\nloin.\u00bb--Il cessa donc de sauter et de remuer la branche; et l'ours,\njuste comme s'il comprenait ce qu'il disait, s'avan\u00e7a un peu. Alors\nVENDREDI se reprit \u00e0 sauter, et l'ours s'arr\u00eata encore.\nNous pens\u00e2mes alors que c'\u00e9tait un bon moment pour le frapper \u00e0 la t\u00eate,\net je criai \u00e0 VENDREDI de rester tranquille, que nous voulions tirer sur\nl'ours; mais il r\u00e9pliqua vivement:--\u00abO prie! O prie! pas tirer; moi\ntirer pr\u00e8s et alors.\u00bb--Il voulait dire tout-\u00e0-l'heure. Cependant, pour\nabr\u00e9ger l'histoire, VENDREDI dansait tellement et l'ours se posait d'une\nfa\u00e7on si grotesque, que vraiment nous p\u00e2mions de rire. Mais nous ne\npouvions encore concevoir ce que le camarade voulait faire. D'abord nous\navions pens\u00e9 qu'il comptait renverser l'ours; mais nous v\u00eemes que la\nb\u00eate \u00e9tait trop rus\u00e9e pour cela: elle ne voulait pas avancer, de peur\nd'\u00eatre jet\u00e9e \u00e0 bas, et s'accrochait si bien avec ses grandes griffes et\nses grosses pattes, que nous ne pouvions imaginer quelle serait l'issue\nde ceci et o\u00f9 s'arr\u00eaterait la bouffonnerie.\nMais VENDREDI nous tira bient\u00f4t d'incertitude. Voyant que l'ours se\ncramponnait \u00e0 la branche et ne voulait point se laisser persuader\nd'approcher davantage:--\u00abBien, bien! dit-il, toi pas venir plus loin,\nmoi aller, moi aller; toi pas venir \u00e0 moi, moi aller \u00e0 toi.\u00bb--Sur ce, il\nse retire jusqu'au bout de la branche, et, la faisant fl\u00e9chir sous son\npoids, il s'y suspend et la courbe doucement jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il soit assez\npr\u00e8s de terre pour tomber sur ses pieds; puis il court \u00e0 son fusil, le\nramasse et se plante l\u00e0.\n--Eh bien, lui dis-je, VENDREDI, que voulez-vous faire maintenant?\nPourquoi ne tirez-vous pas?\u00bb--\u00abPas tirer, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il, pas encore; moi\ntirer maintenant, moi non tuer; moi rester, moi donner vous encore un\nrire.\u00bb--Ce qu'il fit en effet, comme on le verra tout-\u00e0-l'heure. Quand\nl'ours vit son ennemi d\u00e9log\u00e9, il d\u00e9serta de la branche o\u00f9 il se tenait,\nmais excessivement lentement, regardant derri\u00e8re lui \u00e0 chaque pas et\nmarchant \u00e0 reculons, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il e\u00fbt gagn\u00e9 le corps de l'arbre.\nAlors, toujours l'arri\u00e8re-train en avant, il descendit, s'agrippant au\ntronc avec ses griffes et ne remuant qu'une patte \u00e0 la fois,\ntr\u00e8s-pos\u00e9ment. Juste \u00e0 l'instant o\u00f9 il allait appuyer sa patte de\nderri\u00e8re sur le sol, VENDREDI s'avan\u00e7a sur lui, et, lui appliquant le\ncanon de son fusil dans l'oreille, il le fit tomber roide mort comme une\npierre.\nAlors le maraud se retourna pour voir si nous n'\u00e9tions pas \u00e0 rire; et\nquand il lut sur nos visages que nous \u00e9tions fort satisfaits, il poussa\nlui-m\u00eame un grand ricanement, et nous dit: \u00abAinsi nous tue ours dans ma\ncontr\u00e9e.\u00bb--\u00abVous les tuez ainsi? repris-je, comment! vous n'avez pas de\nfusils?\u00bb--\u00abNon, dit-il, pas fusils; mais tirer grand beaucoup longues\nfl\u00e8ches.\u00bb\nCeci fut vraiment un bon divertissement pour nous; mais nous nous\ntrouvions encore dans un lieu sauvage, notre guide \u00e9tait gri\u00e8vement\nbless\u00e9, et nous savions \u00e0 peine que faire. Les hurlements des loups\nretentissaient toujours dans ma t\u00eate; et, dans le fait, except\u00e9 le bruit\nque j'avais jadis entendu sur le rivage d'Afrique, et dont j'ai dit\nquelque chose d\u00e9j\u00e0, je n'ai jamais rien ou\u00ef qui m'ait rempli d'une si\ngrande horreur.\nCes raisons, et l'approche de la nuit, nous faisaient une loi de partir;\nautrement, comme l'e\u00fbt souhait\u00e9 VENDREDI, nous aurions certainement\nd\u00e9pouill\u00e9, cette b\u00eate monstrueuse de sa robe, qui valait bien la peine\nd'\u00eatre conserv\u00e9e; mais nous avions trois lieues \u00e0 faire, et notre guide\nnous pressait. Nous abandonn\u00e2mes donc ce butin et poursuiv\u00eemes notre\nvoyage.\nLa terre \u00e9tait toujours couverte de neige, bien que moins \u00e9paisse et\nmoins dangereuse que sur les montagnes. Des b\u00eates d\u00e9vorantes, comme nous\nl'appr\u00eemes plus tard, \u00e9taient descendues dans la for\u00eat et dans le pays\nplat, press\u00e9es par la faim, pour chercher leur p\u00e2ture, et avaient fait\nde grands ravages dans les hameaux, o\u00f9 elles avaient surpris les\nhabitants, tu\u00e9 un grand nombre de leurs moutons et de leurs chevaux, et\nm\u00eame quelques personnes.\nNous avions \u00e0 passer un lieu dangereux dont nous parlait notre guide;\ns'il y avait encore des loups dans le pays, nous devions \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr les\nrencontrer l\u00e0. C'\u00e9tait une petite plaine, environn\u00e9e de bois de touts\nles c\u00f4t\u00e9s, et un long et \u00e9troit d\u00e9fil\u00e9 o\u00f9 il fallait nous engager pour\ntraverser le bois et gagner le village, notre g\u00eete.\nUne demi-heure avant le coucher du soleil nous entr\u00e2mes dans le premier\nbois, et \u00e0 soleil couch\u00e9 nous arriv\u00e2mes dans la plaine. Nous ne\nrencontr\u00e2mes rien dans ce premier bois, si ce n'est que dans une petite\nclairi\u00e8re, qui n'avait pas plus d'un quart de mille, nous v\u00eemes cinq\ngrands loups traverser la route en toute h\u00e2te, l'un apr\u00e8s l'autre, comme\ns'ils \u00e9taient en chasse de quelque proie qu'ils avaient en vue. Ils ne\nfirent pas attention \u00e0 nous, et disparurent en peu d'instants.\nL\u00e0-dessus notre guide, qui, soit dit en passant, \u00e9tait un mis\u00e9rable\npoltron, nous recommanda de nous mettre en d\u00e9fense; il croyait que\nbeaucoup d'autres allaient venir.\nNous t\u00eenmes nos armes pr\u00eates et l'\u0153il au guet; mais nous ne v\u00eemes plus\nde loups jusqu'\u00e0 ce que nous e\u00fbmes p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 dans la plaine apr\u00e8s avoir\ntravers\u00e9 ce bois, qui avait pr\u00e8s d'une demi-lieue. Aussit\u00f4t que nous y\nf\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s, nous ne ch\u00f4m\u00e2mes pas d'occasion de regarder autour de\nnous. Le premier objet qui nous frappa ce fut un cheval mort,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire un pauvre cheval que les loups avaient tu\u00e9. Au moins une\ndouzaine d'entre eux \u00e9taient \u00e0 la besogne, on ne peut pas dire en train\nde le manger, mais plut\u00f4t de ronger les os, car ils avaient d\u00e9vor\u00e9 toute\nla chair auparavant.\nNous ne juge\u00e2mes point \u00e0 propos de troubler leur festin, et ils ne\nprirent pas garde \u00e0 nous. VENDREDI aurait bien voulu tirer sur eux, mais\nje m'y opposai formellement, pr\u00e9voyant que nous aurions sur les bras\nplus d'affaires semblables que nous ne nous y attendions.--Nous n'avions\npas encore travers\u00e9 la moiti\u00e9 de la plaine, quand, dans les bois, \u00e0\nnotre gauche, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 entendre les loups hurler d'une mani\u00e8re\neffroyable, et aussit\u00f4t apr\u00e8s nous en v\u00eemes environ une centaine venir\ndroit \u00e0 nous, touts en corps, et la plupart d'entre eux en ligne, aussi\nr\u00e9guli\u00e8rement qu'une arm\u00e9e rang\u00e9e par des officiers exp\u00e9riment\u00e9s. Je\nsavais \u00e0 peine que faire pour les recevoir. Il me sembla toutefois que\nle seul moyen \u00e9tait de nous serrer touts de front, ce que nous\nex\u00e9cut\u00e2mes sur-le-champ. Mais, pour qu'entre les d\u00e9charges nous\nn'eussions point trop d'intervalle, je r\u00e9solus que seulement de deux\nhommes l'un ferait feu, et que les autres, qui n'auraient pas tir\u00e9, se\ntiendraient pr\u00eats \u00e0 leur faire essuyer imm\u00e9diatement une seconde\nfusillade s'ils continuaient d'avancer sur nous; puis que ceux qui\nauraient l\u00e2ch\u00e9 leur coup d'abord ne s'amuseraient pas \u00e0 recharger leur\nfusil, mais s'armeraient chacun d'un pistolet, car nous \u00e9tions touts\nmunis d'un fusil et d'une paire de pistolets. Ainsi nous pouvions par\ncette tactique faire six salves, la moiti\u00e9 de nous tirant \u00e0 la fois.\nN\u00e9anmoins, pour le moment, il n'y eut pas n\u00e9cessit\u00e9: \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re\nd\u00e9charge les ennemis firent halte, \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s, stup\u00e9fi\u00e9s du bruit autant\nque du feu. Quatre d'entre eux, frapp\u00e9s \u00e0 la t\u00eate, tomb\u00e8rent morts;\nplusieurs autres furent bless\u00e9s et se retir\u00e8rent tout sanglants, comme\nnous p\u00fbmes le voir par la neige. Ils s'\u00e9taient arr\u00eat\u00e9s, mais ils ne\nbattaient point en retraite. Me ressouvenant alors d'avoir entendu dire\nque les plus farouches animaux \u00e9taient jet\u00e9s dans l'\u00e9pouvante \u00e0 la voix\nde l'homme, j'enjoignis \u00e0 touts nos compagnons de crier aussi haut\nqu'ils le pourraient, et je vis que le dicton n'\u00e9tait pas absolument\nfaux; car, \u00e0 ce cri, les loups commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 reculer et \u00e0 faire\nvolte-face. Sur le coup j'ordonnai de saluer leur arri\u00e8re-garde d'une\nseconde d\u00e9charge, qui leur fit prendre le galop, et ils s'enfuirent dans\nles bois.\nCeci nous donna le loisir de recharger nos armes, et, pour ne pas perdre\nde temps, nous le f\u00eemes en marchant. Mais \u00e0 peine e\u00fbmes-nous bourr\u00e9 nos\nfusils et repris la d\u00e9fensive, que nous entend\u00eemes un bruit terrible\ndans le m\u00eame bois, \u00e0 notre gauche; seulement c'\u00e9tait plus loin, en\navant, sur la route que nous devions suivre.\nCOMBAT AVEC LES LOUPS\nLa nuit approchait et commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 se faire noire, ce qui empirait notre\nsituation; et, comme le bruit croissait, nous pouvions ais\u00e9ment\nreconna\u00eetre les cris et les hurlements de ces b\u00eates infernales. Soudain\nnous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes deux ou trois troupes de loups sur notre gauche, une\nderri\u00e8re nous et une \u00e0 notre front, de sorte que nous en semblions\nenvironn\u00e9s. N\u00e9anmoins, comme elles ne nous assaillaient point, nous\npouss\u00e2mes en avant aussi vite que pouvaient aller nos chevaux, ce qui, \u00e0\ncause de l'\u00e2pret\u00e9 du chemin, n'\u00e9tait tout bonnement qu'un grand trot. De\ncette mani\u00e8re nous v\u00eenmes au-del\u00e0 de la plaine, en vue de l'entr\u00e9e du\nbois \u00e0 travers lequel nous devions passer; mais notre surprise fut\ngrande quand, arriv\u00e9s au d\u00e9fil\u00e9, nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes, juste \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e, un\nnombre \u00e9norme de loups \u00e0 l'aff\u00fbt.\nTout-\u00e0-coup vers une autre perc\u00e9e du bois nous entend\u00eemes la d\u00e9tonation\nd'un fusil; et comme nous regardions de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, sortit un cheval, sell\u00e9\net brid\u00e9, fuyant comme le vent, et ayant \u00e0 ses trousses seize ou\ndix-sept loups haletants: en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 il les avait sur ses talons. Comme\nnous ne pouvions supposer qu'il tiendrait \u00e0 cette vitesse, nous ne m\u00eemes\npas en doute qu'ils finiraient par le joindre; infailliblement il en a\nd\u00fb \u00eatre ainsi.\nUn spectacle plus horrible encore vint alors frapper nos regards: ayant\ngagn\u00e9 la perc\u00e9e d'o\u00f9 le cheval \u00e9tait sorti, nous trouv\u00e2mes les cadavres\nd'un autre cheval et de deux hommes d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par ces b\u00eates cruelles. L'un\nde ces hommes \u00e9tait sans doute le m\u00eame que nous avions entendu tirer une\narme \u00e0 feu, car il avait pr\u00e8s de lui un fusil d\u00e9charg\u00e9. Sa t\u00eate et la\npartie sup\u00e9rieure de son corps \u00e9taient rong\u00e9es.\nCette vue nous remplit d'horreur, et nous ne savions o\u00f9 porter nos pas;\nmais ces animaux, all\u00e9ch\u00e9s par la proie, tranch\u00e8rent bient\u00f4t la question\nen se rassemblant autour de nous. Sur l'honneur, il y en avait bien\ntrois cents!--Il se trouvait, fort heureusement pour nous, \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e du\nbois, mais \u00e0 une petite distance, quelques gros arbres propres \u00e0 la\ncharpente, abattus l'\u00e9t\u00e9 d'auparavant, et qui, je le suppose, gisaient\nl\u00e0 en attendant qu'on les charri\u00e2t. Je menai ma petite troupe au milieu\nde ces arbres, nous nous range\u00e2mes en ligne derri\u00e8re le plus long,\nj'engageai tout le monde \u00e0 mettre pied \u00e0 terre, et, gardant ce tronc\ndevant nous comme un parapet, \u00e0 former un triangle ou trois fronts,\nrenfermant nos chevaux dans le centre.\nNous f\u00eemes ainsi et nous f\u00eemes bien, car jamais il ne fut plus furieuse\ncharge que celle qu'ex\u00e9cut\u00e8rent sur nous ces animaux quand nous f\u00fbmes en\nce lieu: ils se pr\u00e9cipit\u00e8rent en grondant, mont\u00e8rent sur la pi\u00e8ce de\ncharpente qui nous servait de parapet, comme s'ils se jetaient sur leur\nproie. Cette fureur, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, \u00e9tait surtout excit\u00e9e par la vue\ndes chevaux plac\u00e9s derri\u00e8re nous: c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 la cur\u00e9e qu'ils\nconvoitaient. J'ordonnai \u00e0 nos hommes de faire feu comme auparavant, de\ndeux hommes l'un, et ils ajust\u00e8rent si bien qu'ils tu\u00e8rent plusieurs\nloups \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re d\u00e9charge; mais il fut n\u00e9cessaire de faire un feu\nroulant, car ils avan\u00e7aient sur nous comme des diables, ceux de derri\u00e8re\npoussant ceux de devant.\nApr\u00e8s notre seconde fusillade, nous pens\u00e2mes qu'ils s'arr\u00eateraient un\npeu, et j'esp\u00e9rais qu'ils allaient battre en retraite; mais ce ne f\u00fbt\nqu'une lueur, car d'autres s'\u00e9lanc\u00e8rent de nouveau. Nous f\u00eemes donc nos\nsalves de pistolets. Je crois que dans ces quatre d\u00e9charges nous en\ntu\u00e2mes bien dix-sept ou dix-huit et que nous en estropi\u00e2mes le double.\nN\u00e9anmoins ils ne d\u00e9semparaient pas.\nJe ne me souciais pas de tirer notre dernier coup trop \u00e0 la h\u00e2te.\nJ'appelai donc mon domestique, non pas mon serviteur VENDREDI, il \u00e9tait\nmieux employ\u00e9: durant l'engagement il avait, avec la plus grande\ndext\u00e9rit\u00e9 imaginable charg\u00e9 mon fusil et le sien; mais, comme je disais,\nj'appelai mon autre homme, et, lui donnant une corne \u00e0 poudre, je lui\nordonnai de faire une grande tra\u00een\u00e9e le long de la pi\u00e8ce de charpente.\nIl ob\u00e9it et n'avait eu que le temps de s'en aller, quand les loups y\nrevinrent, et quelques-uns \u00e9taient mont\u00e9s dessus, lorsque moi, l\u00e2chant\npr\u00e8s de la poudre le chien d'un pistolet d\u00e9charg\u00e9, j'y mis le feu. Ceux\nqui se trouvaient sur la charpente furent grill\u00e9s, et six ou sept\nd'entre eux tomb\u00e8rent ou plut\u00f4t saut\u00e8rent parmi nous, soit par la force\nou par la peur du feu. Nous les d\u00e9p\u00each\u00e2mes en un clin-d'\u0153il; et les\nautres furent si effray\u00e9s de cette explosion, que la nuit fort pr\u00e8s\nalors d'\u00eatre close rendit encore plus terrible, qu'ils se recul\u00e8rent un\npeu.\nL\u00e0-dessus je commandai de faire une d\u00e9charge g\u00e9n\u00e9rale de nos derniers\npistolets, apr\u00e8s quoi nous jet\u00e2mes un cri. Les loups alors nous\nmontr\u00e8rent les talons, et aussit\u00f4t nous f\u00eemes une sortie sur une\nvingtaine d'estropi\u00e9s que nous trouv\u00e2mes se d\u00e9battant par terre, et que\nnous taill\u00e2mes \u00e0 coups de sabre, ce qui r\u00e9pondit \u00e0 notre attente; car\nles cris et les hurlements qu'ils pouss\u00e8rent furent entendus par leurs\ncamarades, si bien qu'ils prirent cong\u00e9 de nous et s'enfuirent.\nNous en avions en tout exp\u00e9di\u00e9 une soixantaine, et si c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 en plein\njour nous en aurions tu\u00e9 bien davantage. Le champ de bataille \u00e9tant\nainsi balay\u00e9, nous nous rem\u00eemes en route, car nous avions encore pr\u00e8s\nd'une lieue \u00e0 faire. Plusieurs fois chemin faisant nous entend\u00eemes ces\nb\u00eates d\u00e9vorantes hurler et crier dans les bois, et plusieurs fois nous\nnous imagin\u00e2mes en voir quelques-unes; mais, nos yeux \u00e9tant \u00e9blouis par\nla neige, nous n'en \u00e9tions pas certains. Une heure apr\u00e8s nous arriv\u00e2mes\n\u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 nous devions loger. Nous y trouv\u00e2mes la population glac\u00e9e\nd'effroi et sous les armes, car la nuit d'auparavant les loups et\nquelques ours s'\u00e9taient jet\u00e9s dans le village et y avaient port\u00e9\nl'\u00e9pouvante. Les habitants \u00e9taient forc\u00e9s de faire le guet nuit et jour,\nmais surtout la nuit, pour d\u00e9fendre leur b\u00e9tail et se d\u00e9fendre\neux-m\u00eames.\nLe lendemain notre guide \u00e9tait si mal et ses membres si enfl\u00e9s par\nl'apost\u00e8me de ses deux blessures, qu'il ne put aller plus loin. L\u00e0 nous\nf\u00fbmes donc oblig\u00e9s d'en prendre un nouveau pour nous conduire \u00e0\nToulouse, o\u00f9 nous ne trouv\u00e2mes ni neige, ni loups, ni rien de semblable,\nmais un climat chaud et un pays agr\u00e9able et fertile. Lorsque nous\nracont\u00e2mes notre aventure \u00e0 Toulouse, on nous dit que rien n'\u00e9tait plus\nordinaire dans ces grandes for\u00eats au pied des montagnes, surtout quand\nla terre \u00e9tait couverte de neige. On nous demanda beaucoup quelle esp\u00e8ce\nde guide nous avions trouv\u00e9 pour oser nous mener par cette route dans\nune saison si rigoureuse, et on nous dit qu'il \u00e9tait fort heureux que\nnous n'eussions pas \u00e9t\u00e9 touts d\u00e9vor\u00e9s. Au r\u00e9cit que nous f\u00eemes de la\nmani\u00e8re dont nous nous \u00e9tions plac\u00e9s avec les chevaux au milieu de nous,\non nous bl\u00e2ma excessivement, et on nous affirma qu'il y aurait eu\ncinquante \u00e0 gager contre un que nous eussions d\u00fb p\u00e9rir; car c'\u00e9tait la\nvue des chevaux qui avait rendu les loups si furieux: ils les\nconsid\u00e9raient comme leur proie; qu'en toute autre occasion ils auraient\n\u00e9t\u00e9 assur\u00e9ment effray\u00e9s de nos fusils; mais, qu'enrageant de faim, leur\nviolente envie d'arriver jusqu'aux chevaux les avait rendus insensibles\nau danger, et si, par un feu roulant et \u00e0 la fin par le stratag\u00e8me de la\ntra\u00een\u00e9e de poudre, nous n'en \u00e9tions venus \u00e0 bout, qu'il y avait gros \u00e0\nparier que nous aurions \u00e9t\u00e9 mis en pi\u00e8ces; tandis que, si nous fussions\ndemeur\u00e9s tranquillement \u00e0 cheval et eussions fait feu comme des\ncavaliers, ils n'auraient pas autant regard\u00e9 les chevaux comme leur\nproie, voyant des hommes sur leur dos. Enfin on ajoutait que si nous\navions mis pied \u00e0 terre et avions abandonn\u00e9 nos chevaux, ils se seraient\njet\u00e9s dessus avec tant d'acharnement que nous aurions pu nous \u00e9loigner\nsains et saufs, surtout ayant en main des armes \u00e0 feu et nous trouvant\nen si grand nombre.\nPour ma part, je n'eus jamais de ma vie un sentiment plus profond du\ndanger; car, lorsque je vis plus de trois cents de ces b\u00eates infernales,\npoussant des rugissements et la gueule b\u00e9ante, s'avancer pour nous\nd\u00e9vorer, sans que nous eussions rien pour nous r\u00e9fugier ou nous donner\nretraite, j'avais cru que c'en \u00e9tait fait de moi. N'importe! je ne pense\npas que je me soucie jamais de traverser les montagnes; j'aimerais mieux\nfaire mille lieues en mer, fuss\u00e9-je s\u00fbr d'essuyer une temp\u00eate par\nsemaine.\nRien qui m\u00e9rite mention ne signala mon passage \u00e0 travers la France, rien\ndu moins dont d'autres voyageurs n'aient donn\u00e9 le r\u00e9cit infiniment mieux\nque je ne le saurais. Je me rendis de Toulouse \u00e0 Paris; puis, sans faire\nnulle part un long s\u00e9jour, je gagnai Calais, et d\u00e9barquai en bonne sant\u00e9\n\u00e0 Douvres, le 14 janvier, apr\u00e8s avoir eu une \u00e2pre et froide saison pour\nvoyager.\nJ'\u00e9tais parvenu alors au terme de mon voyage, et en peu de temps j'eus\nautour de moi toutes mes richesses nouvellement recouvr\u00e9es, les lettres\nde change dont j'\u00e9tais porteur ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 pay\u00e9es couramment.\nMon principal guide et conseiller priv\u00e9 ce fut ma bonne vieille veuve,\nqui, en reconnaissance de l'argent que je lui avais envoy\u00e9, ne trouvait\nni peines trop grandes ni soins trop on\u00e9reux quand il s'agissait de moi.\nJe mis pour toutes choses ma confiance en elle si compl\u00e8tement, que je\nfus parfaitement tranquille quant \u00e0 la s\u00fbret\u00e9 de mon avoir; et, par le\nfait, depuis, le commencement jusqu'\u00e0 la fin, je n'eus qu'\u00e0 me f\u00e9liciter\nde l'inviolable int\u00e9grit\u00e9 de cette bonne gentlewoman.\nJ'eus alors la pens\u00e9e de laisser mon avoir \u00e0 cette femme, et de passer \u00e0\nLisbonne, puis de l\u00e0 au Br\u00e9sil; mais de nouveaux scrupules religieux\nvinrent m'en d\u00e9tourner[2].--Je pris donc le parti de demeurer dans ma\npatrie, et, si j'en pouvais trouver le moyen, de me d\u00e9faire de ma\nplantation[3].\nDans ce dessein j'\u00e9crivis \u00e0 mon vieil ami de Lisbonne. Il me r\u00e9pondit\nqu'il trouverait ais\u00e9ment \u00e0 vendre ma plantation dans le pays; mais que,\nsi je consentais \u00e0 ce qu'au Br\u00e9sil il l'offrit en mon nom aux deux\nmarchands, les survivants de mes curateurs, que je savais fort riches,\net qui, se trouvant sur les lieux, en connaissaient parfaitement la\nvaleur, il \u00e9tait s\u00fbr qu'ils seraient enchant\u00e9s d'en faire l'acquisition,\net ne mettait pas en doute que je ne pusse en tirer au moins 4 ou 5,000\npi\u00e8ces de huit.\nJ'y consentis donc et lui donnai pour cette offre mes instructions,\nqu'il suivit. Au bout de huit mois, le b\u00e2timent \u00e9tant de retour, il me\nfit savoir que la proposition avait \u00e9t\u00e9 accept\u00e9e, et qu'ils avaient\nadress\u00e9 33,000 pi\u00e8ces de huit \u00e0 l'un de leurs correspondants \u00e0 Lisbonne\npour effectuer le paiement.\nDe mon c\u00f4t\u00e9 je signai l'acte de vente en forme qu'on m'avait exp\u00e9di\u00e9 de\nLisbonne, et je le fis passer \u00e0 mon vieil ami, qui m'envoya des lettres\nde change pour 32,800 pi\u00e8ces de huit[4], prix de ma propri\u00e9t\u00e9, se\nr\u00e9servant le paiement annuel de 100 MOIDORES pour lui, et plus tard pour\nson fils celui viager de 50 MOIDORES[5], que je leur avais promis et\ndont la plantation r\u00e9pondait comme d'une rente inf\u00e9od\u00e9e.--Voici que j'ai\ndonn\u00e9 la premi\u00e8re partie de ma vie de fortune et d'aventures, vie qu'on\npourrait appeler une _marqueterie de la Providence_, vie d'une bigarrure\ntelle que le monde en pourra rarement offrir de semblable. Elle commen\u00e7a\nfollement, mais elle finit plus heureusement qu'aucune de ses\ncirconstances ne m'avait donn\u00e9 lieu de l'esp\u00e9rer.\nLES DEUX NEVEUX\nOn pensera que, dans cet \u00e9tat complet de bonheur, je renon\u00e7ai \u00e0 courir\nde nouveaux hasards, et il en e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi par le fait si mes alentours\nm'y eussent aid\u00e9; mais j'\u00e9tais accoutum\u00e9 \u00e0 une vie vagabonde: je n'avais\npoint de famille, point de parents; et, quoique je fusse riche, je\nn'avais pas fait beaucoup de connaissances.--Je m'\u00e9tais d\u00e9fait de ma\nplantation au Br\u00e9sil: cependant ce pays ne pouvait me sortir de la t\u00eate,\net j'avais une grande envie de reprendre ma vol\u00e9e; je ne pouvais surtout\nr\u00e9sister au violent d\u00e9sir que j'avais de revoir mon \u00eele, de savoir si\nles pauvres Espagnols l'habitaient, et comment les sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats que j'y\navais laiss\u00e9s en avaient us\u00e9 avec eux[6].\nMa fid\u00e8le amie la veuve me d\u00e9conseilla de cela, et m'influen\u00e7a si bien\nque pendant environ sept ans elle pr\u00e9vint mes courses lointaines. Durant\nce temps je pris sous ma tutelle mes deux neveux, fils d'un de mes\nfr\u00e8res. L'a\u00een\u00e9 ayant quelque bien, je l'\u00e9levai comme un gentleman, et\npour ajouter \u00e0 son aisance je lui constituai un legs apr\u00e8s ma mort. Le\ncadet, je le confiai \u00e0 un capitaine de navire, et au bout de cinq ans,\ntrouvant en lui un gar\u00e7on judicieux, brave et entreprenant, je lui\nconfiai un bon vaisseau et je l'envoyai en mer. Ce jeune homme\nm'entra\u00eena moi-m\u00eame plus tard, tout vieux que j'\u00e9tais, dans de nouvelles\naventures.\nCependant je m'\u00e9tablis ici en partie, car premi\u00e8rement je me mariai, et\ncela non \u00e0 mon d\u00e9savantage ou \u00e0 mon d\u00e9plaisir. J'eus trois enfants, deux\nfils et une fille; mais ma femme \u00e9tant morte et mon neveu revenant \u00e0 la\nmaison apr\u00e8s un fort heureux voyage en Espagne, mes inclinations \u00e0\ncourir le monde et ses importunit\u00e9s pr\u00e9valurent, et m'engag\u00e8rent \u00e0\nm'embarquer dans son navire comme simple n\u00e9gociant pour les\nIndes-Orientales. Ce fut en l'ann\u00e9e 1694.\nDans ce voyage je visitai ma nouvelle colonie dans l'\u00eele, je vis mes\nsuccesseurs les Espagnols, j'appris toute l'histoire de leur vie et\ncelle des vauriens que j'y avais laiss\u00e9s; comment d'abord ils\ninsult\u00e8rent les pauvres Espagnols, comment plus tard ils s'accord\u00e8rent,\nse brouill\u00e8rent, s'unirent et se s\u00e9par\u00e8rent, et comment \u00e0 la fin les\nEspagnols furent oblig\u00e9s d'user de violence; comment ils furent soumis\npar les Espagnols, combien les Espagnols en us\u00e8rent honn\u00eatement avec\neux. C'est une histoire, si elle \u00e9tait \u00e9crite, aussi pleine de vari\u00e9t\u00e9\net d'\u00e9v\u00e9nements merveilleux que la mienne, surtout aussi quant \u00e0 leurs\nbatailles avec les caribes qui d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent dans l'\u00eele, et quant aux\nam\u00e9liorations qu'ils apport\u00e8rent \u00e0 l'\u00eele elle-m\u00eame. Enfin, j'appris\nencore comment trois d'entre eux firent une tentative sur la terre ferme\net ramen\u00e8rent cinq femmes et onze hommes prisonniers, ce qui fit qu'\u00e0\nmon arriv\u00e9e je trouvai une vingtaine d'enfants dans l'\u00eele.\nJ'y s\u00e9journai vingt jours environ et j'y laissai de bonnes provisions de\ntoutes choses n\u00e9cessaires, principalement des armes, de la poudre, des\nballes, des v\u00eatements, des outils et deux artisans que j'avais amen\u00e9s\nd'Angleterre avec moi, nomm\u00e9ment un charpentier et un forgeron.\nEn outre je leur partageai le territoire: je me r\u00e9servai la propri\u00e9t\u00e9 de\ntout, mais je leur donnai respectivement telles parts qui leur\nconvenaient. Ayant arr\u00eat\u00e9 toutes ces choses avec eux et les ayant engag\u00e9\n\u00e0 ne pas quitter l'\u00eele, je les y laissai.\nDe l\u00e0 je touchai au Br\u00e9sil, d'o\u00f9 j'envoyai une embarcation que j'y\nachetai et de nouveaux habitants pour la colonie. En plus des autres\nsubsides, je leur adressais sept femmes que j'avais trouv\u00e9es propres\npour le service ou pour le mariage si quelqu'un en voulait. Quant aux\nAnglais, je leur avais promis, s'ils voulaient s'adonner \u00e0 la culture,\nde leur envoyer des femmes d'Angleterre avec une bonne cargaison\nd'objets de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, ce que plus tard je ne pus effectuer. Ces gar\u00e7ons\ndevinrent tr\u00e8s-honn\u00eates et tr\u00e8s-diligents apr\u00e8s qu'on les eut domt\u00e9s et\nqu'ils eurent \u00e9tabli \u00e0 part leurs propri\u00e9t\u00e9s. Je leur exp\u00e9diai aussi du\nBr\u00e9sil cinq vaches dont trois pr\u00e8s de v\u00ealer, quelques moutons et\nquelques porcs, qui lorsque je revins \u00e9taient consid\u00e9rablement\nmultipli\u00e9s.\nMais de toutes ces choses, et de la mani\u00e8re dont 300 caribes firent une\ninvasion et ruin\u00e8rent leurs plantations; de la mani\u00e8re dont ils\nlivr\u00e8rent contre cette multitude de Sauvages deux batailles, o\u00f9 d'abord\nils furent d\u00e9faits et perdirent un des leurs; puis enfin, une temp\u00eate\nayant submerg\u00e9 les canots de leurs ennemis, de la mani\u00e8re dont ils les\naffam\u00e8rent, les d\u00e9truisirent presque touts, restaur\u00e8rent leurs\nplantations, en reprirent possession et v\u00e9curent paisiblement dans\nl'\u00eele[7].\nDe toutes ces choses, dis-je, et de quelques incidents surprenants de\nmes nouvelles aventures durant encore dix ann\u00e9es, je donnerai une\nrelation plus circonstanci\u00e9e ci-apr\u00e8s.\nCe proverbe na\u00eff si usit\u00e9 en Angleterre, _ce qui est engendr\u00e9 dans l'os\nne sortira pas de la chair_[8], ne s'est jamais mieux v\u00e9rifi\u00e9 que dans\nl'histoire de ma vie. On pourrait penser qu'apr\u00e8s trente-cinq ann\u00e9es\nd'affliction et une multiplicit\u00e9 d'infortunes que peu d'hommes avant\nmoi, pas un seul peut-\u00eatre, n'avait essuy\u00e9es, et qu'apr\u00e8s environ sept\nann\u00e9es de paix et de jouissance dans l'abondance de toutes choses,\ndevenu vieux alors, je devais \u00eatre \u00e0 m\u00eame ou jamais d'appr\u00e9cier touts\nles \u00e9tats de la vie moyenne et de conna\u00eetre le plus propre \u00e0 rendre\nl'homme compl\u00e8tement heureux. Apr\u00e8s tout ceci, dis-je, on pourrait\npenser que la propension naturelle \u00e0 courir, qu'\u00e0 mon entr\u00e9e dans le\nmonde j'ai signal\u00e9e comme si pr\u00e9dominante en mon esprit, \u00e9tait us\u00e9e; que\nla partie volatile de mon cerveau \u00e9tait \u00e9vapor\u00e9e ou tout au moins\ncondens\u00e9e, et qu'\u00e0 soixante-et-un ans d'\u00e2ge j'aurais le go\u00fbt quelque peu\ncasanier, et aurais renonc\u00e9 \u00e0 hasarder davantage ma vie et ma fortune.\nQui plus est, le commun motif des entreprises lointaines n'existait\npoint pour moi: je n'avais point de fortune \u00e0 faire, je n'avais rien \u00e0\nrechercher; euss\u00e9-je gagn\u00e9 10,000 livres sterling, je n'eusse pas \u00e9t\u00e9\nplus riche: j'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 du bien \u00e0 ma suffisance et \u00e0 celle de mes\nh\u00e9ritiers, et ce que je poss\u00e9dais accroissait \u00e0 vue d'\u0153il; car, n'ayant\npas une famille nombreuse, je n'aurais pu d\u00e9penser mon revenu qu'en me\ndonnant un grand train de vie, une suite brillante, des \u00e9quipages, du\nfaste et autres choses semblables, aussi \u00e9trang\u00e8res \u00e0 mes habitudes qu'\u00e0\nmes inclinations. Je n'avais donc rien \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 demeurer tranquille,\n\u00e0 jouir pleinement de ce que j'avais acquis et \u00e0 le voir fructifier\nchaque jour entre mes mains.\nAucune de ces choses cependant n'eut d'effet sur moi, ou du moins assez\npour \u00e9touffer le violent penchant que j'avais \u00e0 courir de nouveau le\nmonde, penchant qui m'\u00e9tait inh\u00e9rent comme une maladie chronique. Voir\nma nouvelle plantation dans l'\u00eele, et la colonie que j'y avais laiss\u00e9e,\n\u00e9tait le d\u00e9sir qui roulait le plus incessamment dans ma t\u00eate. Je r\u00eavais\nde cela toute la nuit et mon imagination s'en ber\u00e7ait tout le jour.\nC'\u00e9tait le point culminant de toutes mes pens\u00e9es, et mon cerveau\ntravaillait cette id\u00e9e avec tant de fixit\u00e9 et de contention que j'en\nparlais dans mon sommeil. Bref, rien ne pouvait la bannir de mon esprit;\nelle envahissait si tyranniquement touts mes entretiens, que ma\nconversation en devenait fastidieuse; impossible \u00e0 moi de parler d'autre\nchose: touts mes discours rab\u00e2chaient l\u00e0-dessus jusqu'\u00e0 l'impertinence,\njusque l\u00e0 que je m'en apper\u00e7us moi-m\u00eame.\nJ'ai souvent entendu dire \u00e0 des personnes de grand sens que touts les\nbruits accr\u00e9dit\u00e9s dans le monde sur les spectres et les apparitions sont\ndus \u00e0 la force de l'imagination et au puissant effet de l'illusion sur\nnos esprits; qu'il n'y a ni revenants, ni fant\u00f4mes errants, ni rien de\nsemblable; qu'\u00e0 force de repasser passionn\u00e9ment la vie et les m\u0153urs de\nnos amis qui ne sont plus, nous nous les repr\u00e9sentons si bien qu'il nous\nest possible en des circonstances extraordinaires de nous figurer les\nvoir, leur parler et en recevoir des r\u00e9ponses, quand au fond dans tout\ncela il n'y a qu'ombre et vapeur.--Et par le fait, c'est chose fort\nincompr\u00e9hensible.\nPour ma part, je ne sais encore \u00e0 cette heure s'il y a de r\u00e9elles\napparitions, des spectres, des promenades de gens apr\u00e8s leur mort, ou si\ndans toutes les histoires de ce genre qu'on nous raconte il n'y a rien\nqui ne soit le produit des vapeurs, des esprits malades et des\nimaginations \u00e9gar\u00e9es; mais ce que je sais, c'est que mon imagination\ntravaillait \u00e0 un tel degr\u00e9 et me plongeait dans un tel exc\u00e8s de vapeurs,\nou qu'on appelle cela comme on voudra, que souvent je me croyais \u00eatre\nsur les lieux m\u00eames, \u00e0 mon vieux ch\u00e2teau derri\u00e8re les arbres, et voyais\nmon premier Espagnol, le p\u00e8re de VENDREDI et les inf\u00e2mes matelots que\nj'avais laiss\u00e9s dans l'\u00eele. Je me figurais m\u00eame que je leur parlais; et\nbien que je fusse tout-\u00e0-fait \u00e9veill\u00e9, je les regardais fixement comme\ns'ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 en personne devant moi. J'en vins souvent \u00e0 m'effrayer\nmoi-m\u00eame des objets qu'enfantait mon cerveau.--Une fois, dans mon\nsommeil, le premier Espagnol et le p\u00e8re de VENDREDI me peignirent si\nvivement la sc\u00e9l\u00e9ratesse des trois corsaires de matelots, que c'\u00e9tait\nmerveille. Ils me racontaient que ces mis\u00e9rables avaient tent\u00e9\ncruellement de massacrer touts les Espagnols, et qu'ils avaient mis le\nfeu aux provisions par eux amass\u00e9es, \u00e0 dessein de les r\u00e9duire \u00e0\nl'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 et de les faire mourir de faim, choses qui ne m'avaient\njamais \u00e9t\u00e9 dites, et qui pourtant en fait \u00e9taient toutes vraies. J'en\n\u00e9tais tellement frapp\u00e9, et c'\u00e9tait si r\u00e9el pour moi, qu'\u00e0 cette heure je\nles voyais et ne pouvais qu'\u00eatre persuad\u00e9 que cela \u00e9tait vrai ou devait\nl'\u00eatre. Aussi quelle n'\u00e9tait pas mon indignation quand l'Espagnol\nfaisait ses plaintes, et comme je leur rendais justice en les traduisant\ndevant moi et les condamnant touts trois \u00e0 \u00eatre pendus! On verra en son\nlieu ce que l\u00e0-dedans il y avait de r\u00e9el; car quelle que f\u00fbt la cause de\nce songe et quels que fussent les esprits secrets et familiers qui me\nl'inspirassent, il s'y trouvait, dis-je, toutefois beaucoup de choses\nexactes. J'avoue que ce r\u00eave n'avait rien de vrai \u00e0 la lettre et dans\nles particularit\u00e9s; mais l'ensemble en \u00e9tait si vrai, l'inf\u00e2me et\nperfide conduite de ces trois fieff\u00e9s coquins ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 tellement\nau-del\u00e0 de tout ce que je puis dire, que mon songe n'approchait que trop\nde la r\u00e9alit\u00e9, et que si plus tard je les eusse punis s\u00e9v\u00e8rement et fait\npendre touts, j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans mon droit et justifiable devant Dieu et\ndevant les hommes.\nMais revenons \u00e0 mon histoire. Je v\u00e9cus quelques ann\u00e9es dans cette\nsituation d'esprit: pour moi nulle jouissance de la vie, point d'heures\nagr\u00e9ables, de diversion attachante, qui ne tinssent en quelque chose \u00e0\nmon id\u00e9e fixe; \u00e0 tel point que ma femme, voyant mon esprit si uniquement\npr\u00e9occup\u00e9, me dit un soir tr\u00e8s-gravement qu'\u00e0 son avis j'\u00e9tais sous le\ncoup de quelque impulsion secr\u00e8te et puissante de la Providence, qui\navait d\u00e9cr\u00e9t\u00e9 mon retour l\u00e0-bas, et qu'elle ne voyait rien qui s'oppos\u00e2t\n\u00e0 mon d\u00e9part que mes obligations envers une femme et des enfants. Elle\najouta qu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 elle ne pouvait songer \u00e0 aller avec moi; mais que,\ncomme elle \u00e9tait s\u00fbre que si elle venait \u00e0 mourir, ce voyage serait la\npremi\u00e8re chose que j'entreprendrais, et que, comme cette chose lui\nsemblait d\u00e9cid\u00e9e l\u00e0-haut, elle ne voulait pas \u00eatre l'unique emp\u00eachement;\ncar, si je le jugeais convenable et que je fusse r\u00e9solu \u00e0 partir... Ici\nelle me vit si attentif \u00e0 ses paroles et la regarder si fixement,\nqu'elle se d\u00e9concerta un peu et s'arr\u00eata. Je lui demandai pourquoi elle\nne continuait point et n'achevait pas ce qu'elle allait me dire; mais je\nm'apper\u00e7us que son c\u0153ur \u00e9tait trop plein et que des larmes roulaient\ndans ses yeux.\nENTRETIEN DE ROBINSON AVEC SA FEMME\n\u00abParlez, ma ch\u00e8re, lui dis je, souhaitez-vous que je parte?\u00bb--\u00abNon,\nr\u00e9pondit-elle affectueusement, je suis loin de le d\u00e9sirer; mais si vous\n\u00eates d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 partir, plut\u00f4t que d'y \u00eatre l'unique obstacle, je\npartirai avec vous. Quoique je consid\u00e8re cela comme une chose d\u00e9plac\u00e9e\npour quelqu'un de votre \u00e2ge et dans votre position, si cela doit \u00eatre,\nredisait-elle en pleurant, je ne vous abandonnerai point. Si c'est la\nvolont\u00e9 c\u00e9leste, vous devez ob\u00e9ir. Point de r\u00e9sistance; et si le Ciel\nvous fait un devoir de partir, il m'en fera un de vous suivre; autrement\nil disposera de moi, afin que je ne rompe pas ce dessein.\u00bb\nCette conduite affectueuse de ma femme m'enleva un peu \u00e0 mes vapeurs, et\nje commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ce que je faisais. Je r\u00e9primai ma fantaisie\nvagabonde, et je me pris \u00e0 discuter avec moi-m\u00eame pos\u00e9ment.--\u00abQuel\nbesoin as-tu, \u00e0 plus de soixante ans, apr\u00e8s une vie de longues\nsouffrances et d'infortunes, close d'une si heureuse et si douce\nmani\u00e8re, quel besoin as-tu, me disais-je, de t'exposer \u00e0 de nouveaux\nhasards, de te jeter dans des aventures qui conviennent seulement \u00e0 la\njeunesse et \u00e0 la pauvret\u00e9?\u00bb\nDans ces sentiments, je r\u00e9fl\u00e9chis \u00e0 mes nouveaux liens: j'avais une\nfemme, un enfant, et ma femme en portait un autre; j'avais tout ce que\nle monde pouvait me donner, et nullement besoin de chercher fortune \u00e0\ntravers les dangers. J'\u00e9tais sur le d\u00e9clin de mes ans, et devais plut\u00f4t\nsonger \u00e0 quitter qu'\u00e0 accro\u00eetre ce que j'avais acquis. Quant \u00e0 ce que\nm'avait dit ma femme, que ce penchant \u00e9tait une impulsion venant du\nCiel, et qu'il serait de mon devoir de partir, je n'y eus point \u00e9gard.\nApr\u00e8s beaucoup de consid\u00e9rations semblables, j'en vins donc aux prises\navec le pouvoir de mon imagination, je me raisonnai pour m'y arracher,\ncomme on peut toujours faire, il me semble, en pareilles circonstances,\nsi on en a le vouloir. Bref je sortis vainqueur: je me calmai \u00e0 l'aide\ndes arguments qui se pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent \u00e0 mon esprit, et que ma condition\nd'alors me fournissait en abondance. Particuli\u00e8rement, comme la m\u00e9thode\nla plus efficace, je r\u00e9solus de me distraire par d'autres choses, et de\nm'engager dans quelque affaire qui p\u00fbt me d\u00e9tourner compl\u00e8tement de\ntoute excursion de ce genre; car je m'\u00e9tais apper\u00e7u que ces id\u00e9es\nm'assaillaient principalement quand j'\u00e9tais oisif, que je n'avais rien \u00e0\nfaire ou du moins rien d'important imm\u00e9diatement devant moi.\nDans ce but j'achetai une petite m\u00e9tairie dans le comt\u00e9 de Bedfort, et\nje r\u00e9solus de m'y retirer. L'habitation \u00e9tait commode et les h\u00e9ritages\nqui en d\u00e9pendaient susceptibles de grandes am\u00e9liorations, ce qui sous\nbien des rapports me convenait parfaitement, amateur que j'\u00e9tais de\nculture, d'\u00e9conomie, de plantation, d'am\u00e9liorissement; d'ailleurs, cette\nferme se trouvant dans le c\u0153ur du pays, je n'\u00e9tais plus \u00e0 m\u00eame de hanter\nla marine et les gens de mer et d'ou\u00efr rien qui e\u00fbt trait aux lointaines\ncontr\u00e9es du monde.\nBref, je me transportai \u00e0 ma m\u00e9tairie, j'y \u00e9tablis ma famille, j'achetai\ncharrues, herses, charrette, chariot, chevaux, vaches, moutons, et, me\nmettant s\u00e9rieusement \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre, je devins en six mois un v\u00e9ritable\ngentleman campagnard. Mes pens\u00e9es \u00e9taient totalement absorb\u00e9es:\nc'\u00e9taient mes domestiques \u00e0 conduire, des terres \u00e0 cultiver, des\ncl\u00f4tures, des plantations \u00e0 faire... Je jouissais, selon moi, de la plus\nagr\u00e9able vie que la nature puisse nous d\u00e9partir, et dans laquelle puisse\nfaire retraite un homme toujours nourri dans le malheur.\nComme je faisais valoir ma propre terre, je n'avais point de redevance \u00e0\npayer, je n'\u00e9tais g\u00ean\u00e9 par aucune clause, je pouvais tailler et rogner \u00e0\nma guise. Ce que je plantais \u00e9tait pour moi-m\u00eame, ce que j'am\u00e9liorais\npour ma famille. Ayant ainsi dit adieu aux aventures, je n'avais pas le\nmoindre nuage dans ma vie pour ce qui est de ce monde. Alors je croyais\nr\u00e9ellement jouir de l'heureuse m\u00e9diocrit\u00e9 que mon p\u00e8re m'avait si\ninstamment recommand\u00e9e, une sorte d'existence c\u00e9leste semblable \u00e0 celle\nqu'a d\u00e9crite le po\u00e8te en parlant de la vie pastorale:\n              _Exempte de vice et de soins,_\n    _Jeunesse est sans \u00e9cart, vieillesse sans besoins_[9].\nMais au sein de toute cette f\u00e9licit\u00e9 un coup inopin\u00e9 de la Providence me\nrenversa: non-seulement il me fit une blessure profonde et incurable,\nmais, par ses cons\u00e9quences, il me fit faire une lourde rechute dans ma\npassion vagabonde. Cette passion, qui \u00e9tait pour ainsi dire n\u00e9e dans mon\nsang, eut bient\u00f4t repris tout son empire, et, comme le retour d'une\nmaladie violente, elle revint avec une force irr\u00e9sistible, tellement que\nrien ne fit plus impression sur moi.--Ce coup c'\u00e9tait la perte de ma\nfemme.\nIl ne m'appartient pas ici d'\u00e9crire une \u00e9l\u00e9gie sur ma femme, de retracer\ntoutes ses vertus priv\u00e9es, et de faire ma cour au beau sexe par la\nflatterie d'une oraison fun\u00e8bre. Elle \u00e9tait, soit dit en peu de mots, le\nsupport de toutes mes affaires, le centre de toutes mes entreprises, le\nbon g\u00e9nie qui par sa prudence me maintenait dans le cercle heureux o\u00f9\nj'\u00e9tais, apr\u00e8s m'avoir arrach\u00e9 au plus extravagant et au plus ruineux\nprojet o\u00f9 s'\u00e9gar\u00e2t ma t\u00eate. Et elle avait fait plus pour domter mon\ninclination errante que les pleurs d'une m\u00e8re, les instructions d'un\np\u00e8re, les conseils d'un ami, ou que toute la force de mes propres\nraisonnements. J'\u00e9tais heureux de c\u00e9der \u00e0 ses larmes, de m'attendrir \u00e0\nses pri\u00e8res, et par sa perte je fus en ce monde au plus haut point bris\u00e9\net d\u00e9sol\u00e9.\nSit\u00f4t qu'elle me manqua le monde autour de moi me parut mal: j'y \u00e9tais,\nme semblait-il, aussi \u00e9tranger qu'au Br\u00e9sil lorsque pour la premi\u00e8re\nfois j'y abordai, et aussi isol\u00e9, \u00e0 part l'assistance de mes\ndomestiques, que je l'\u00e9tais dans mon \u00eele. Je ne savais que faire ou ne\npas faire. Je voyais autour de moi le monde occup\u00e9, les uns travaillant\npour avoir du pain, les autres se consumant dans de vils exc\u00e8s ou de\nvains plaisirs, et \u00e9galement mis\u00e9rables, parce que le but qu'ils se\nproposaient fuyait incessamment devant eux. Les hommes de plaisir chaque\njour se blasaient sur leurs vices, et s'amassaient une montagne de\ndouleur et de repentir, et les hommes de labeur d\u00e9pensaient leurs forces\nen efforts journaliers afin de gagner du pain de quoi soutenir ces\nforces vitales qu'exigeaient leurs travaux; roulant ainsi dans un cercle\ncontinuel de peines, ne vivant que pour travailler, ne travaillant que\npour vivre, comme si le pain de chaque jour \u00e9tait le seul but d'une vie\naccablante, et une vie accablante la seule voie menant au pain de chaque\njour.\nCela r\u00e9veilla chez moi l'esprit dans lequel je vivais en mon royaume,\nmon \u00eele, o\u00f9 je n'avais point laiss\u00e9 cro\u00eetre de bl\u00e9 au-del\u00e0 de mon\nbesoin, o\u00f9 je n'avais point nourri de ch\u00e8vres au-del\u00e0 de mon usage, o\u00f9\nmon argent \u00e9tait rest\u00e9 dans le coffre jusque-l\u00e0 de s'y moisir, et avait\neu \u00e0 peine la faveur d'un regard pendant vingt ann\u00e9es.\nSi de toutes ces choses j'eusse profit\u00e9 comme je l'eusse d\u00fb faire et\ncomme la raison et la religion me l'avaient dict\u00e9, j'aurais eu appris \u00e0\nchercher au-del\u00e0 des jouissances humaines une f\u00e9licit\u00e9 parfaite,\nj'aurais eu appris que, sup\u00e9rieur \u00e0 elles, il y a quelque chose qui\ncertainement est la raison et la fin de la vie, et que nous devons\nposs\u00e9der ou tout au moins auquel nous devons aspirer sur ce c\u00f4t\u00e9-ci de\nla tombe.\nMais ma sage conseill\u00e8re n'\u00e9tait plus l\u00e0: j'\u00e9tais comme un vaisseau sans\npilote, qui ne peut que courir devant le vent. Mes pens\u00e9es volaient de\nnouveau \u00e0 leur ancienne passion, ma t\u00eate \u00e9tait totalement tourn\u00e9e par\nune manie d'aventures lointaines; et touts les agr\u00e9ables et innocents\namusements de ma m\u00e9tairie et de mon jardin, mon b\u00e9tail, et ma famille,\nqui auparavant me poss\u00e9daient tout entier, n'\u00e9taient plus rien pour moi,\nn'avaient plus d'attraits, comme la musique pour un homme qui n'a point\nd'oreilles, ou la nourriture pour un homme qui a le go\u00fbt us\u00e9. En un mot,\nje r\u00e9solus de me d\u00e9charger du soin de ma m\u00e9tairie, de l'abandonner, de\nretourner \u00e0 Londres: et je fis ainsi peu de mois apr\u00e8s.\nArriv\u00e9 \u00e0 Londres, je me retrouvai aussi inquiet qu'auparavant, la ville\nm'ennuyait; je n'y avais point d'emploi, rien \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 baguenauder,\ncomme une personne oisive de laquelle on peut dire qu'elle est\nparfaitement inutile dans la cr\u00e9ation de Dieu, et que pour le reste de\nl'humanit\u00e9 il n'importe pas plus qu'un farthing[10] qu'elle soit morte\nou vive.--C'\u00e9tait aussi de toutes les situations celle que je d\u00e9testais\nle plus, moi qui avais us\u00e9 mes jours dans une vie active; et je me\ndisais souvent \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame: L'\u00e9tat d'oisivet\u00e9 est la lie de la vie.--Et\nen v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je pensais que j'\u00e9tais beaucoup plus convenablement occup\u00e9\nquand j'\u00e9tais vingt-six jours \u00e0 me faire une planche de sapin.\nNous entrions dans l'ann\u00e9e 1693 quand mon neveu, dont j'avais fait,\ncomme je l'ai dit pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, un marin et un commandant de navire,\nrevint d'un court voyage \u00e0 Bilbao, le premier qu'il e\u00fbt fait. M'\u00e9tant\nvenu voir, il me conta que des marchands de sa connaissance lui avaient\npropos\u00e9 d'entreprendre pour leurs maisons un voyage aux Indes-Orientales\net \u00e0 la Chine.--\u00abEt maintenant, mon oncle, dit-il, si vous voulez aller\nen mer avec moi, je m'engage \u00e0 vous d\u00e9barquer \u00e0 votre ancienne\nhabitation dans l'\u00eele, car nous devons toucher au Br\u00e9sil.\u00bb\nRien ne saurait \u00eatre une plus forte d\u00e9monstration d'une vie future et de\nl'existence d'un monde invisible que la co\u00efncidence des causes secondes\net des id\u00e9es que nous formons en notre esprit tout-\u00e0-fait intimement, et\nque nous ne communiquons \u00e0 pas une \u00e2me.\nMon neveu ignorait avec quelle violence ma maladie de courir le monde\ns'\u00e9tait de nouveau empar\u00e9e de moi, et je ne me doutais pas de ce qu'il\navait l'intention de me dire quand le matin m\u00eame, avant sa visite, dans\nune tr\u00e8s-grande confusion de pens\u00e9es, repassant en mon esprit toutes les\ncirconstances de ma position, j'en \u00e9tais venu \u00e0 prendre la d\u00e9termination\nd'aller \u00e0 Lisbonne consulter mon vieux capitaine; et, si c'\u00e9tait\nraisonnable et praticable, d'aller voir mon \u00eele et ce que mon peuple y\n\u00e9tait devenu. Je me complaisais dans la pens\u00e9e de peupler ce lieu, d'y\ntransporter des habitants, d'obtenir une patente de possession, et je ne\nsais quoi encore, quand au milieu de tout ceci entra mon neveu, comme je\nl'ai dit, avec son projet de me conduire \u00e0 mon \u00eele chemin faisant aux\nIndes-Orientales.\n\u00c0 cette proposition je me pris \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir un instant, et le regardant\nfixement:--\u00abQuel d\u00e9mon, lui dis-je, vous a charg\u00e9 de ce sinistre\nmessage?\u00bb--Mon neveu tressaillit, comme s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 effray\u00e9 d'abord;\nmais, s'appercevant que je n'\u00e9tais pas tr\u00e8s-f\u00e2ch\u00e9 de l'ouverture, il se\nremit.--\u00abJ'esp\u00e8re, sir, reprit-il, que ce n'est point une proposition\nfuneste; j'ose m\u00eame esp\u00e9rer que vous serez charm\u00e9 de voir votre nouvelle\ncolonie en ce lieu o\u00f9 vous r\u00e9gniez jadis avec plus de f\u00e9licit\u00e9 que la\nplupart de vos fr\u00e8res les monarques de ce monde.\nBref, ce dessein correspondait si bien \u00e0 mon humeur, c'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 la\npr\u00e9occupation qui m'absorbait et dont j'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 tant parl\u00e9, qu'en peu de\nmots je lui dis que je partirais avec lui s'il s'accordait avec les\nmarchands, mais que je ne promettais pas d'aller au-del\u00e0 de mon\n\u00eele.--\u00abPourquoi, sir, dit-il? vous ne d\u00e9sirez pas \u00eatre laiss\u00e9 l\u00e0 de\nnouveau j'esp\u00e8re.\u00bb--\u00abQuoi! r\u00e9pliquai-je, ne pouvez-vous pas me reprendre\n\u00e0 votre retour?\u00bb--Il m'affirma qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas possible que les\nmarchands lui permissent de revenir par cette route, avec un navire\ncharg\u00e9 de si grandes valeurs, le d\u00e9tour \u00e9tant d'un mois et pouvant\nl'\u00eatre de trois ou quatre.--\u00abD'ailleurs, sir, ajouta-t-il, s'il me\nm\u00e9sarrivait, et que je ne revinsse pas du tout, vous seriez alors r\u00e9duit\n\u00e0 la condition o\u00f9 vous \u00e9tiez jadis.\u00bb\nPROPOSITION DU NEVEU\nC'\u00e9tait fort raisonnable; toutefois nous trouv\u00e2mes l'un et l'autre un\nrem\u00e8de \u00e0 cela. Ce fut d'embarquer \u00e0 bord du navire un _sloop_[11] tout\nfa\u00e7onn\u00e9 mais d\u00e9mont\u00e9 en pi\u00e8ces, lequel, \u00e0 l'aide de quelques\ncharpentiers que nous conv\u00eenmes d'emmener avec nous, pouvait \u00eatre\nremont\u00e9 dans l'\u00eele et achev\u00e9 et mis \u00e0 flot en peu de jours.\nJe ne fus pas long \u00e0 me d\u00e9terminer, car r\u00e9ellement les importunit\u00e9s de\nmon neveu servaient si bien mon penchant, que rien ne m'aurait arr\u00eat\u00e9.\nD'ailleurs, ma femme \u00e9tant morte, je n'avais personne qui s'int\u00e9ress\u00e2t\nassez \u00e0 moi pour me conseiller telle voie ou telle autre, exception\nfaite de ma vieille bonne amie la veuve, qui s'\u00e9vertua pour me faire\nprendre en consid\u00e9ration mon \u00e2ge, mon aisance, l'inutile danger d'un\nlong voyage, et, par-dessus tout, mes jeunes enfants. Mais ce fut peine\nvaine: j'avais un d\u00e9sir irr\u00e9sistible de voyager.--\u00abJ'ai la cr\u00e9ance, lui\ndis-je, qu'il y a quelque chose de si extraordinaire dans les\nimpressions qui p\u00e8sent sur mon esprit, que ce serait en quelque sorte\nr\u00e9sister \u00e0 la Providence si je tentais de demeurer \u00e0 la maison.\u00bb--Apr\u00e8s\nquoi elle mit fin \u00e0 ses remontrances et se joignit \u00e0 moi non-seulement\npour faire mes appr\u00eats de voyage, mais encore pour r\u00e9gler mes affaires\nde famille en mon absence et pourvoir \u00e0 l'\u00e9ducation de mes enfants.\nPour le bien de la chose, je fis mon testament et disposai la fortune\nque je laissais \u00e0 mes enfants de telle mani\u00e8re, et je la pla\u00e7ai en de\ntelles mains, que j'\u00e9tais parfaitement tranquille et assur\u00e9 que justice\nleur serait faite quoi qu'il p\u00fbt m'advenir. Quant \u00e0 leur \u00e9ducation, je\nm'en remis enti\u00e8rement \u00e0 ma veuve, en la gratifiant pour ses soins d'une\nsuffisante pension, qui fut richement m\u00e9rit\u00e9e, car une m\u00e8re n'aurait pas\napport\u00e9 plus de soins dans leur \u00e9ducation ou ne l'e\u00fbt pas mieux\nentendue. Elle vivait encore quand je revins dans ma patrie, et moi-m\u00eame\nje v\u00e9cus assez pour lui t\u00e9moigner ma gratitude.\nMon neveu fut pr\u00eat \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 la voile vers le commencement de janvier\n1694-5, et avec mon serviteur VENDREDI je m'embarquai aux Dunes le 8,\nayant \u00e0 bord, outre le _sloop_ dont j'ai fait mention ci-dessus, un\nchargement tr\u00e8s-consid\u00e9rable de toutes sortes de choses n\u00e9cessaires pour\nma colonie, que j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu de n'y laisser qu'autant que je la\ntrouverais en bonne situation.\nPremi\u00e8rement j'emmenai avec moi quelques serviteurs que je me proposais\nd'installer comme habitants dans mon \u00eele, ou du moins de faire\ntravailler pour mon compte pendant que j'y s\u00e9journerais, puis que j'y\nlaisserais ou que je conduirais plus loin, selon qu'ils para\u00eetraient le\nd\u00e9sirer. Il y avait entre autres deux charpentiers, un forgeron, et un\nautre gar\u00e7on fort adroit et fort ing\u00e9nieux, tonnelier de son \u00e9tat, mais\nartisan universel, car il \u00e9tait habile \u00e0 faire des roues et des moulins\n\u00e0 bras pour moudre le grain, de plus bon tourneur et bon potier, et\ncapable d'ex\u00e9cuter toute esp\u00e8ce d'ouvrages en terre ou en bois. Bref,\nnous l'appelions notre Jack-bon-\u00e0-tout.\nParmi eux se trouvait aussi un tailleur qui s'\u00e9tait pr\u00e9sent\u00e9 pour passer\naux Indes-Orientales avec mon neveu, mais qui consentit par la suite \u00e0\nse fixer dans notre nouvelle colonie, et se montra le plus utile et le\nplus adroit compagnon qu'on e\u00fbt su d\u00e9sirer, m\u00eame dans beaucoup de choses\nqui n'\u00e9taient pas de son m\u00e9tier; car, ainsi que je l'ai fait observer\nautrefois, la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 nous rend industrieux.\nMa cargaison, autant que je puis m'en souvenir, car je n'en avais pas\ndress\u00e9 un compte d\u00e9taill\u00e9, consistait en une assez grande quantit\u00e9 de\ntoiles et de l\u00e9g\u00e8res \u00e9toffes anglaises pour habiller les Espagnols que\nje m'attendais \u00e0 trouver dans l'\u00eele. \u00c0 mon calcul il y en avait assez\npour les v\u00eatir confortablement pendant sept ann\u00e9es. Si j'ai bonne\nm\u00e9moire, les marchandises que j'emportai pour leur habillement, avec les\ngants, chapeaux, souliers, bas et autres choses dont ils pouvaient avoir\nbesoin pour se couvrir, montaient \u00e0 plus de 200 livres sterling, y\ncompris quelques lits, couchers, et objets d'ameublement,\nparticuli\u00e8rement des ustensiles de cuisine, pots, chaudrons, vaisselle\nd'\u00e9tain et de cuivre...: j'y avais joint en outre pr\u00e8s de 100 livres\nsterling de ferronnerie, clous, outils de toute sorte, loquets,\ncrochets, gonds; bref, tout objet n\u00e9cessaire auquel je pus penser.\nJ'emportai aussi une centaine d'armes l\u00e9g\u00e8res, mousquets et fusils, de\nplus quelques pistolets, une grande quantit\u00e9 de balles de tout calibre,\ntrois ou quatre tonneaux de plomb, deux pi\u00e8ces de canon d'airain, et\ncomme j'ignorais pour combien de temps et pour quelles extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s\nj'avais \u00e0 me pourvoir, je chargeai cent barils de poudre, des \u00e9p\u00e9es, des\ncoutelas et quelques fers de piques et de hallebardes; si bien qu'en un\nmot nous avions un v\u00e9ritable arsenal de toute esp\u00e8ce de munitions. Je\nfis aussi emporter \u00e0 mon neveu deux petites caronades[12] en plus de ce\nqu'il lui fallait pour son vaisseau, \u00e0 dessein de les laisser dans l'\u00eele\nsi besoin \u00e9tait, afin qu'\u00e0 notre d\u00e9barquement nous pussions construire\nun Fort, et l'armer contre n'importe quel ennemi; et par le fait d\u00e8s mon\narriv\u00e9e, j'eus lieu de penser qu'il serait assez besoin de tout ceci et\nde beaucoup plus encore, si nous pr\u00e9tendions nous maintenir en\npossession de l'\u00eele, comme on le verra dans la suite de cette histoire.\nJe n'eus pas autant de malencontre dans ce voyage que dans les\npr\u00e9c\u00e9dents; aussi aurai-je moins sujet de d\u00e9tourner le lecteur,\nimpatient peut-\u00eatre d'apprendre ce qu'il en \u00e9tait de ma colonie.\nToutefois quelques accidents \u00e9tranges, des vents contraires et du\nmauvais temps, qui nous advinrent \u00e0 notre d\u00e9part, rendirent la travers\u00e9e\nplus longue que je ne m'y attendais d'abord; et moi, qui n'avais jamais\nfait qu'un voyage,--mon premier voyage en Guin\u00e9e,--que je pouvais dire\ns'\u00eatre effectu\u00e9 comme il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 con\u00e7u, je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 croire que la\nm\u00eame fatalit\u00e9 m'attendait encore, et que j'\u00e9tais n\u00e9 pour ne jamais \u00eatre\ncontent \u00e0 terre, et pour toujours \u00eatre malheureux sur l'Oc\u00e9an.\nLes vents contraires nous chass\u00e8rent d'abord vers le Nord, et nous f\u00fbmes\noblig\u00e9s de rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 Galway en Irlande, o\u00f9 ils nous retinrent\ntrente-deux jours; mais dans cette m\u00e9saventure nous e\u00fbmes la\nsatisfaction de trouver l\u00e0 des vivres excessivement \u00e0 bon march\u00e9 et en\ntr\u00e8s-grande abondance; de sorte que tout le temps de notre rel\u00e2che, bien\nloin de toucher aux provisions du navire, nous y ajout\u00e2mes plut\u00f4t.--L\u00e0\nje pris plusieurs porcs, et deux vaches avec leurs veaux, que, si nous\navions une bonne travers\u00e9e, j'avais dessein de d\u00e9barquer dans mon \u00eele:\nmais nous trouv\u00e2mes occasion d'en disposer autrement.\nNous quitt\u00e2mes l'Irlande le 5 f\u00e9vrier, \u00e0 la faveur d'un joli frais qui\ndura quelques jours.--Autant que je me le rappelle, c'\u00e9tait vers le 20\nf\u00e9vrier, un soir, assez tard, le second, qui \u00e9tait de quart, entra dans\nla chambre du Conseil, et nous dit qu'il avait vu une flamme et entendu\nun coup de canon; et tandis qu'il nous parlait de cela, un mouce vint\nnous avertir que le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage en avait entendu un autre.\nL\u00e0-dessus nous cour\u00fbmes touts sur le gaillard d'arri\u00e8re, o\u00f9 nous\nn'entend\u00eemes rien; mais au bout de quelques minutes nous v\u00eemes une\ngrande lueur, et nous reconn\u00fbmes qu'il y avait au loin un feu terrible.\nImm\u00e9diatement nous e\u00fbmes recours \u00e0 notre estime, et nous tomb\u00e2mes touts\nd'accord que du c\u00f4t\u00e9 o\u00f9 l'incendie se montrait il ne pouvait y avoir de\nterre qu'\u00e0 non moins 500 lieues, car il apparaissait \u00e0\nl'Ouest-Nord-Ouest. Nous concl\u00fbmes alors que ce devait \u00eatre quelque\nvaisseau incendi\u00e9 en mer, et les coups de canon que nous venions\nd'entendre nous firent pr\u00e9sumer qu'il ne pouvait \u00eatre loin. Nous f\u00eemes\nvoile directement vers lui, et nous e\u00fbmes bient\u00f4t la certitude de le\nd\u00e9couvrir; parce que plus nous cinglions, plus la flamme grandissait,\nbien que de long-temps, le ciel \u00e9tant brumeux, nous ne p\u00fbmes appercevoir\nautre chose que cette flamme.--Au bout d'une demi-heure de bon sillage,\nle vent nous \u00e9tant devenu favorable, quoique assez faible, et le temps\ns'\u00e9claircissant un peu, nous distingu\u00e2mes pleinement un grand navire en\nfeu au milieu de la mer.\nJe fus sensiblement touch\u00e9 de ce d\u00e9sastre, encore que je ne connusse\naucunement les personnes qui s'y trouvaient plong\u00e9es. Je me repr\u00e9sentai\nalors mes anciennes infortunes, l'\u00e9tat o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais quand j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9\nrecueilli par le capitaine portugais, et combien plus d\u00e9plorable encore\ndevait \u00eatre celui des malheureuses gens de ce vaisseau, si quelque autre\nb\u00e2timent n'allait avec eux de conserve. Sur ce, j'ordonnai imm\u00e9diatement\nde tirer cinq coups de canon coup sur coup, \u00e0 dessein de leur faire\nsavoir, s'il \u00e9tait possible, qu'ils avaient du secours \u00e0 leur port\u00e9e, et\nafin qu'ils t\u00e2chassent de se sauver dans leur chaloupe; car, bien que\nnous pussions voir la flamme dans leur navire, eux cependant, \u00e0 cause de\nla nuit, ne pouvaient rien voir de nous.\nNous \u00e9tions en panne depuis quelque temps, suivant seulement \u00e0 la d\u00e9rive\nle b\u00e2timent embras\u00e9, en attendant le jour quand soudain, \u00e0 notre grande\nterreur, quoique nous eussions lieu de nous y attendre, le navire sauta\nen l'air, et s'engloutit aussit\u00f4t. Ce fut terrible, ce fut un douloureux\nspectacle, par la compassion qu'il nous donna de ces pauvres gens, qui,\nje le pr\u00e9sumais, devaient touts avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9truits avec le navire ou se\ntrouver dans la plus profonde d\u00e9tresse, jet\u00e9s sur leur chaloupe au\nmilieu de l'Oc\u00e9an: alternative d'o\u00f9 je ne pouvais sortir \u00e0 cause de\nl'obscurit\u00e9 de la nuit. Toutefois, pour les diriger de mon mieux, je\ndonnai l'ordre de suspendre touts les fanaux que nous avions \u00e0 bord, et\non tira le canon toute la nuit. Par l\u00e0 nous leur faisions conna\u00eetre\nqu'il y avait un b\u00e2timent dans ce parage.\nVers huit heures du matin, \u00e0 l'aide de nos lunettes d'approche, nous\nd\u00e9couvr\u00eemes les embarcations du navire incendi\u00e9, et nous reconn\u00fbmes\nqu'il y en avait deux d'entre elles encombr\u00e9es de monde, et profond\u00e9ment\nenfonc\u00e9es dans l'eau. Le vent leur \u00e9tant contraire, ces pauvres gens\nramaient, et, nous ayant vus, ils faisaient touts leurs efforts pour se\nfaire voir aussi de nous.\nNous d\u00e9ploy\u00e2mes aussit\u00f4t notre pavillon pour leur donner \u00e0 conna\u00eetre que\nnous les avions apper\u00e7us, et nous leur adress\u00e2mes un signal de\nralliement; puis nous for\u00e7\u00e2mes de voile, portant le cap droit sur eux.\nEn un peu plus d'une demi-heure nous les joign\u00eemes, et, bref, nous les\naccueill\u00eemes touts \u00e0 bord; ils n'\u00e9taient pas moins de soixante-quatre,\ntant hommes que femmes et enfants; car il y avait un grand nombre de\npassagers.\nEnfin nous appr\u00eemes que c'\u00e9tait un vaisseau marchand fran\u00e7ais de 300\ntonneaux, s'en retournant de Qu\u00e9bec, sur la rivi\u00e8re du Canada. Le\ncapitaine nous fit un long r\u00e9cit de la d\u00e9tresse de son navire. Le feu\navait commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 la timonerie, par la n\u00e9gligence du timonier. \u00c0 son\nappel au secours il avait \u00e9t\u00e9, du moins tout le monde le croyait-il,\nenti\u00e8rement \u00e9teint. Mais bient\u00f4t on s'\u00e9tait apper\u00e7u que quelques\nflamm\u00e8ches avaient gagn\u00e9 certaines parties du b\u00e2timent, o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait si\ndifficile d'arriver, qu'on n'avait pu compl\u00e8tement les \u00e9teindre. Ensuite\nle feu, s'insinuant entre les couples et dans le vaigrage du vaisseau,\ns'\u00e9tait \u00e9tendu jusqu'\u00e0 la cale, et avait brav\u00e9 touts les efforts et\ntoute l'habilet\u00e9 qu'on avait pu faire \u00e9clater.\nIls n'avaient eu alors rien autre \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 se jeter dans leurs\nembarcations, qui, fort heureusement pour eux, se trouvaient assez\ngrandes. Ils avaient leur chaloupe, un grand canot et de plus un petit\nesquif qui ne leur avait servi qu'\u00e0 recevoir des provisions et de l'eau\ndouce, apr\u00e8s qu'ils s'\u00e9taient mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9 contre le feu. Toutefois ils\nn'avaient que peu d'espoir pour leur vie en entrant dans ces barques \u00e0\nune telle distance de toute terre; seulement, comme ils le disaient\nbien, ils avaient \u00e9chapp\u00e9 au feu, et il n'\u00e9tait pas impossible qu'un\nnavire les rencontr\u00e2t et les prit \u00e0 son bord.\nLE VAISSEAU INCENDI\u00c9\nIls avaient des voiles, des rames et une boussole, et se pr\u00e9paraient \u00e0\nmettre le cap en route sur Terre-Neuve, le vent \u00e9tant favorable, car il\nsoufflait un joli frais Sud-Est quart-Est. Ils avaient en les m\u00e9nageant\nassez de provisions et d'eau pour ne pas mourir de faim pendant environ\ndouze jours, au bout desquels s'ils n'avaient point de mauvais temps et\nde vents contraires, le capitaine disait qu'il esp\u00e9rait atteindre les\nbancs de Terre-Neuve, o\u00f9 ils pourraient sans doute p\u00eacher du poisson\npour se soutenir jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils eussent gagn\u00e9 la terre. Mais il y\navait dans touts les cas tant de chances contre eux, les temp\u00eates pour\nles renverser et les engloutir, les pluies et le froid pour engourdir et\ngeler leurs membres, les vents contraires pour les arr\u00eater et les faire\np\u00e9rir par la famine, que s'ils eussent \u00e9chapp\u00e9 c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 presque\nmiraculeux.\nAu milieu de leurs d\u00e9lib\u00e9rations, comme ils \u00e9taient touts abattus et\npr\u00eats \u00e0 se d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer, le capitaine me conta, les larmes aux yeux, que\nsoudain ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 surpris joyeusement en entendant un coup de\ncanon, puis quatre autres. C'\u00e9taient les cinq coups de canon que j'avais\nfait tirer aussit\u00f4t que nous e\u00fbmes apper\u00e7u la lueur. Cela les avait\nrendus \u00e0 leur courage, et leur avait fait savoir,--ce qui, je l'ai dit\npr\u00e9c\u00e9demment, \u00e9tait mon dessein,--qu'il se trouvait l\u00e0 un b\u00e2timent \u00e0\nport\u00e9e de les secourir.\nEn entendant ces coups de canon ils avaient cal\u00e9 leurs m\u00e2ts et leurs\nvoiles; et, comme le son venait du vent, ils avaient r\u00e9solu de rester en\npanne jusqu'au matin. Ensuite, n'entendant plus le canon, ils avaient \u00e0\nde longs intervalles d\u00e9charg\u00e9 trois mousquets; mais, comme le vent nous\n\u00e9tait contraire, la d\u00e9tonation s'\u00e9tait perdue.\nQuelque temps apr\u00e8s ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 encore plus agr\u00e9ablement surpris par\nla vue de nos fanaux et par le bruit du canon, que j'avais donn\u00e9 l'ordre\nde tirer tout le reste de la nuit. \u00c0 ces signaux ils avaient forc\u00e9 de\nrames pour maintenir leurs embarcations debout-au-vent, afin que nous\npussions les joindre plus t\u00f4t, et enfin, \u00e0 leur inexprimable joie, ils\navaient reconnu que nous les avions d\u00e9couverts.\nIl m'est impossible de peindre les diff\u00e9rents gestes, les extases\n\u00e9tranges, la diversit\u00e9 de postures, par lesquels ces pauvres gens, \u00e0 une\nd\u00e9livrance si inattendue, manifestaient la joie de leurs \u00e2mes.\nL'affliction et la crainte se peuvent d\u00e9crire ais\u00e9ment: des soupirs, des\ng\u00e9missements et quelques mouvements de t\u00eate et de mains en font toute la\nvari\u00e9t\u00e9; mais une surprise de joie, mais un exc\u00e8s de joie entra\u00eene \u00e0\nmille extravagances.--Il y en avait en larmes, il y en avait qui\nfaisaient rage et se d\u00e9chiraient eux-m\u00eames comme s'ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 dans\nla plus douloureuse agonie; quelques-uns, tout-\u00e0-fait en d\u00e9lire, \u00e9taient\nde v\u00e9ritables lunatiques; d'autres couraient \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans le navire en\nfrappant du pied; d'autres se tordaient les mains, d'autres dansaient,\nplusieurs chantaient, quelques-uns riaient, beaucoup criaient; quantit\u00e9,\nabsolument muets, ne pouvaient prof\u00e9rer une parole; ceux-ci \u00e9taient\nmalades et vomissaient, ceux-l\u00e0 en p\u00e2moison \u00e9taient pr\u00e8s de tomber en\nd\u00e9faillance;--un petit nombre se signaient et remerciaient Dieu.\nJe ne veux faire tort ni aux uns ni aux autres; sans doute beaucoup\nrendirent gr\u00e2ces par la suite, mais tout d'abord la commotion, trop\nforte pour qu'ils pussent la ma\u00eetriser, les plongea dans l'extase et\ndans une sorte de fr\u00e9n\u00e9sie; et il n'y en eut que fort peu qui se\nmontr\u00e8rent graves et dignes dans leur joie.\nPeut-\u00eatre aussi le caract\u00e8re particulier de la nation \u00e0 laquelle ils\nappartenaient y contribua-t-il; j'entends la nation fran\u00e7aise, dont\nl'humeur est r\u00e9put\u00e9e plus volatile, plus passionn\u00e9e, plus ardente et\nl'esprit plus fluide que chez les autres nations.--Je ne suis pas assez\nphilosophe pour en d\u00e9terminer la source, mais rien de ce que j'avais vu\njusqu'alors n'\u00e9galait cette exaltation. Le ravissement du pauvre\nVENDREDI, mon fid\u00e8le Sauvage, en retrouvant son p\u00e8re dans la pirogue,\nest ce qui s'en approchait le plus; la surprise du capitaine et de ses\ndeux compagnons que je d\u00e9livrai des deux sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats qui les avaient\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e9s dans l'\u00eele, y ressemblait quelque peu aussi: n\u00e9anmoins rien ne\npouvait entrer en comparaison, ni ce que j'avais observ\u00e9 chez VENDREDI,\nni ce que j'avais observ\u00e9 partout ailleurs durant ma vie.\nIl est encore \u00e0 remarquer que ces extravagances ne se montraient point,\nsous les diff\u00e9rentes formes dont j'ai fait mention, chez diff\u00e9rentes\npersonnes uniquement, mais que toute leur multiplicit\u00e9 apparaissait en\nune br\u00e8ve succession d'instants chez un seul m\u00eame individu. Tel homme\nque nous voyions muet, et, pour ainsi dire, stupide et confondu, \u00e0 la\nminute suivante dansait et criait comme un baladin; le moment d'ensuite\nil s'arrachait les cheveux, mettait ses v\u00eatements en pi\u00e8ces, les foulait\naux pieds comme un furibond; peu apr\u00e8s, tout en larmes, il se trouvait\nmal, il s'\u00e9vanouissait, et s'il n'e\u00fbt re\u00e7u de prompts secours, encore\nquelques secondes et il \u00e9tait mort. Il en fut ainsi, non pas d'un ou de\ndeux, de dix ou de vingt, mais de la majeure partie; et, si j'ai bonne\nsouvenance, \u00e0 plus de trente d'entre eux notre chirurgien fut oblig\u00e9 de\ntirer du sang.\nIl y avait deux pr\u00eatres parmi eux, l'un vieillard, l'autre jeune homme;\net, chose \u00e9trange! le vieillard ne fut pas le plus sage.\nD\u00e8s qu'il mit le pied \u00e0 bord de notre b\u00e2timent et qu'il se vit en\ns\u00fbret\u00e9, il tomba, en toute apparence, roide mort comme une pierre; pas\nle moindre signe de vie ne se manifestait en lui. Notre chirurgien lui\nappliqua imm\u00e9diatement les rem\u00e8des propres \u00e0 rappeler ses esprits; il\n\u00e9tait le seul du navire qui ne le croyait pas mort. \u00c0 la fin il lui\nouvrit une veine au bras, ayant premi\u00e8rement mass\u00e9 et frott\u00e9 la place\npour l'\u00e9chauffer autant que possible. Le sang, qui n'\u00e9tait d'abord venu\nque goutte \u00e0 goutte, coula assez abondamment. En trois minutes l'homme\nouvrit les yeux, un quart d'heure apr\u00e8s il parla, se trouva mieux et au\nbout de peu de temps tout-\u00e0-fait bien. Quand la saign\u00e9e fut arr\u00eat\u00e9e il\nse promena, nous assura qu'il allait \u00e0 merveille, but un trait d'un\ncordial que le chirurgien lui offrit, et recouvra, comme on dit, toute\nsa connaissance.--Environ un quart d'heure apr\u00e8s on accourut dans la\ncabine avertir le chirurgien, occup\u00e9 \u00e0 saigner une femme fran\u00e7aise\n\u00e9vanouie, que le pr\u00eatre \u00e9tait devenu enti\u00e8rement insens\u00e9. Sans doute en\nrepassant dans sa t\u00eate la vicissitude de sa position, il s'\u00e9tait\nreplong\u00e9 dans un transport de joie; et, ses esprits circulant plus vite\nque les vaisseaux ne le comportaient, la fi\u00e8vre avait enflamm\u00e9 son sang,\net le bonhomme \u00e9tait devenu aussi convenable pour Bedlam[13] qu'aucune\ndes cr\u00e9atures qui jamais y furent envoy\u00e9es. En cet \u00e9tat le chirurgien ne\nvoulut pas le saigner de nouveau; mais il lui donna quelque chose pour\nl'assoupir et l'endormir qui op\u00e9ra sur lui assez promptement, et le\nlendemain matin il s'\u00e9veilla calme et r\u00e9tabli.\nLe plus jeune pr\u00eatre sut parfaitement ma\u00eetriser son \u00e9motion, et fut\nr\u00e9ellement un mod\u00e8le de gravit\u00e9 et de retenue. Aussit\u00f4t arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 bord du\nnavire il s'inclina, il se prosterna pour rendre gr\u00e2ces de sa\nd\u00e9livrance. Dans cet \u00e9lancement j'eus malheureusement la maladresse de\nle troubler, le croyant v\u00e9ritablement \u00e9vanoui; mais il me parla avec\ncalme, me remercia, me dit qu'il b\u00e9nissait Dieu de son salut, me pria de\nle laisser encore quelques instants, ajoutant qu'apr\u00e8s son Cr\u00e9ateur je\nrecevrais aussi ses b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions.\nJe fus profond\u00e9ment contrit de l'avoir troubl\u00e9; et non-seulement je\nm'\u00e9loignai, mais encore j'emp\u00eachai les autres de l'interrompre. Il\ndemeura dans cette attitude environ trois minutes, ou un peu plus, apr\u00e8s\nque je me fus retir\u00e9; puis il vint \u00e0 moi, comme il avait dit qu'il\nferait, et avec beaucoup de gravit\u00e9 et d'affection, mais les larmes aux\nyeux, il me remercia de ce qu'avec la volont\u00e9 de Dieu je lui avais sauv\u00e9\nla vie ainsi qu'\u00e0 tant de pauvres infortun\u00e9s. Je lui r\u00e9pondis que je ne\nl'engagerais point \u00e0 en t\u00e9moigner sa gratitude \u00e0 Dieu plut\u00f4t qu'\u00e0 moi,\nn'ignorant pas que d\u00e9j\u00e0 c'\u00e9tait chose faite; puis j'ajoutai que nous\nn'avions agi que selon ce que la raison et l'humanit\u00e9 dictent \u00e0 touts\nles hommes, et qu'autant que lui nous avions sujet de glorifier Dieu qui\nnous avait b\u00e9nis jusque l\u00e0 de nous faire les instruments de sa\nmis\u00e9ricorde envers un si grand nombre de ses cr\u00e9atures.\nApr\u00e8s cela le jeune pr\u00eatre se donna tout entier \u00e0 ses compatriotes: il\ntravailla \u00e0 les calmer, il les exhorta, il les supplia, il discuta et\nraisonna avec eux, et fit tout son possible pour les rappeler \u00e0 la saine\nraison. Avec quelques-uns il r\u00e9ussit; quant aux autres, d'assez\nlong-temps ils ne rentr\u00e8rent en puissance d'eux-m\u00eames.\nJe me suis laiss\u00e9 aller complaisamment \u00e0 cette peinture, dans la\nconviction qu'elle ne saurait \u00eatre inutile \u00e0 ceux sous les yeux desquels\nelle tombera, pour le gouvernement de leurs passions extr\u00eames; car si un\nexc\u00e8s de joie peut entra\u00eener l'homme si loin au-del\u00e0 des limites de la\nraison, o\u00f9 ne nous emportera pas l'exaltation de la col\u00e8re, de la\nfureur, de la vengeance? Et par le fait j'ai vu l\u00e0-dedans combien nous\ndevions rigoureusement veiller sur toutes nos passions, soient-elles de\njoie et de bonheur, soient-elles de douleur et de col\u00e8re.\nNous f\u00fbmes un peu boulevers\u00e9s le premier jour par les extravagances de\nnos nouveaux h\u00f4tes; mais quand ils se furent retir\u00e9s dans les logements\nqu'on leur avait pr\u00e9par\u00e9s aussi bien que le permettait notre navire,\nfatigu\u00e9s, bris\u00e9s par l'effroi, ils s'endormirent profond\u00e9ment pour la\nplupart, et nous retrouv\u00e2mes en eux le lendemain une toute autre esp\u00e8ce\nde gens.\nPoint de courtoisies, point de d\u00e9monstrations de reconnaissance qu'ils\nne nous prodigu\u00e8rent pour les bons offices que nous leur avions rendus:\nles Fran\u00e7ais, on ne l'ignore pas, sont naturellement port\u00e9s \u00e0 donner\ndans l'exc\u00e8s de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9-l\u00e0.--Le capitaine et un des pr\u00eatres m'abord\u00e8rent\nle jour suivant, et, d\u00e9sireux de s'entretenir avec moi et mon neveu le\ncommandant, ils commenc\u00e8rent par nous consulter sur nos intentions \u00e0\nleur \u00e9gard. D'abord ils nous dirent que, comme nous leur avions sauv\u00e9 la\nvie, tout ce qu'ils poss\u00e9daient ne serait que peu en retour du bienfait\nqu'ils avaient re\u00e7u. Puis le capitaine nous d\u00e9clara qu'ils avaient \u00e0 la\nh\u00e2te arrach\u00e9 aux flammes et mis en s\u00fbret\u00e9 dans leurs embarcations de\nl'argent et des objets de valeur, et que si nous voulions l'accepter ils\navaient mission de nous offrir le tout; seulement qu'ils d\u00e9siraient \u00eatre\nmis \u00e0 terre, sur notre route, en quelque lieu o\u00f9 il ne leur f\u00fbt point\nimpossible d'obtenir passage pour la France.\nMon neveu tout d'abord ne r\u00e9pugnait pas \u00e0 accepter leur argent, quitte \u00e0\nvoir ce qu'on ferait d'eux plus tard; mais je l'en d\u00e9tournai, car je\nsavais ce que c'\u00e9tait que d'\u00eatre d\u00e9pos\u00e9 \u00e0 terre en pays \u00e9tranger. Si le\ncapitaine portugais qui m'avait recueilli en mer avait agi ainsi envers\nmoi, et avait pris pour la ran\u00e7on de ma d\u00e9livrance tout ce que je\nposs\u00e9dais, il m'e\u00fbt fallu mourir de faim ou devenir esclave au Br\u00e9sil\ncomme je l'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 en Barbarie, \u00e0 la seule diff\u00e9rence que je n'aurais\npas \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 vendre \u00e0 un Mahom\u00e9tan; et rien ne dit qu'un Portugais soit\nmeilleur ma\u00eetre qu'un Turc, voire m\u00eame qu'il ne soit pire en certains\ncas.\nREQU\u00caTE DES INCENDI\u00c9S\nJe r\u00e9pondis donc au capitaine fran\u00e7ais:--\u00ab\u00c0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 nous vous avons\nsecourus dans votre d\u00e9tresse; mais c'\u00e9tait notre devoir, parce que nous\nsommes vos semblables, et que nous d\u00e9sirerions qu'il nous f\u00fbt ainsi fait\nsi nous nous trouvions en pareille ou en toute autre extr\u00e9mit\u00e9. Nous\navons agi envers vous comme nous croyons que vous eussiez agi envers\nnous si nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 dans votre situation et vous dans la n\u00f4tre. Nous\nvous avons accueillis \u00e0 bord pour vous assister, et non pour vous\nd\u00e9pouiller; ce serait une chose des plus barbares que de vous prendre le\npeu que vous avez sauv\u00e9 des flammes, puis de vous mettre \u00e0 terre et de\nvous abandonner; ce serait vous avoir premi\u00e8rement arrach\u00e9s aux mains de\nla mort pour vous tuer ensuite nous-m\u00eames, vous avoir sauv\u00e9s du naufrage\npour vous faire mourir de faim. Je ne permettrai donc pas qu'on accepte\nde vous la moindre des choses.--Quant \u00e0 vous d\u00e9poser \u00e0 terre,\najoutai-je, c'est vraiment pour nous d'une difficult\u00e9 extr\u00eame; car le\nb\u00e2timent est charg\u00e9 pour les Indes-Orientales; et quoique \u00e0 une grande\ndistance du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'Ouest, nous soyons entra\u00een\u00e9s hors de notre course,\nce que peut-\u00eatre le ciel a voulu pour votre d\u00e9livrance, il nous est\nn\u00e9anmoins absolument impossible de changer notre voyage \u00e0 votre\nconsid\u00e9ration particuli\u00e8re. Mon neveu, le capitaine, ne pourrait\njustifier cela envers ses affr\u00e9teurs, avec lesquels il s'est engag\u00e9 par\nune charte-partie \u00e0 se rendre \u00e0 sa destination par la route du Br\u00e9sil.\nTout ce qu'\u00e0 ma connaissance il peut faire pour vous, c'est de nous\nmettre en passe de rencontrer des navires revenant des\nIndes-Occidentales, et, s'il est possible, de vous faire accorder\npassage pour l'Angleterre ou la France.\u00bb\nLa premi\u00e8re partie de ma r\u00e9ponse \u00e9tait si g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse et si obligeante\nqu'ils ne purent que m'en rendre gr\u00e2ces, mais ils tomb\u00e8rent dans une\ngrande consternation, surtout les passagers, \u00e0 l'id\u00e9e d'\u00eatre emmen\u00e9s aux\nIndes-Orientales. Ils me suppli\u00e8rent, puisque j'\u00e9tais d\u00e9j\u00e0 entra\u00een\u00e9 si\nloin \u00e0 l'Ouest avant de les rencontrer, de vouloir bien au moins tenir\nla m\u00eame route jusqu'aux Bancs de Terre-Neuve, o\u00f9 sans doute je\nrencontrerais quelque navire ou quelque _sloop_ qu'ils pourraient\nprendre \u00e0 louage pour retourner au Canada, d'o\u00f9 ils venaient.\nCette requ\u00eate ne me parut que raisonnable de leur part, et j'inclinais \u00e0\nl'accorder; car je consid\u00e9rais que, par le fait, transporter tout ce\nmonde aux Indes-Orientales serait non-seulement agir avec trop de duret\u00e9\nenvers de pauvres gens, mais encore serait la ruine compl\u00e8te de notre\nvoyage, par l'absorption de toutes nos provisions. Aussi pensai-je que\nce n'\u00e9tait point l\u00e0 une infraction \u00e0 la charte-partie, mais une\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 qu'un accident impr\u00e9vu nous imposait, et que nul ne pouvait\nnous imputer \u00e0 bl\u00e2me; car les lois de Dieu et de la nature nous avaient\nenjoint d'accueillir ces deux bateaux pleins de gens dans une si\nprofonde d\u00e9tresse, et la force des choses nous faisait une obligation,\nenvers nous comme envers ces infortun\u00e9s, de les d\u00e9poser \u00e0 terre quelque\npart, de les rendre \u00e0 eux-m\u00eames. Je consentis donc \u00e0 les conduire \u00e0\nTerre-Neuve si le vent et le temps le permettaient, et, au cas\ncontraire, \u00e0 la Martinique, dans les Indes-Occidentales.\nLe vent continua de souffler fortement de l'Est; cependant le temps se\nmaintint assez bon; et, comme le vent s'\u00e9tablit dans les aires\ninterm\u00e9diaires entre le Nord-Est et le Sud-Est, nous perd\u00eemes plusieurs\noccasions d'envoyer nos h\u00f4tes en France; car nous rencontr\u00e2mes plusieurs\nnavires faisant voile pour l'Europe, entre autres deux b\u00e2timents\nfran\u00e7ais venant de Saint-Christophe; mais ils avaient louvoy\u00e9 si\nlong-temps qu'ils n'os\u00e8rent prendre des passagers, dans la crainte de\nmanquer de vivres et pour eux-m\u00eames et pour ceux qu'ils auraient\naccueillis. Nous f\u00fbmes donc oblig\u00e9s de poursuivre.--Une semaine apr\u00e8s\nenviron nous parv\u00eenmes aux Bancs de Terre-Neuve, o\u00f9, pour couper court,\nnous m\u00eemes touts nos Fran\u00e7ais \u00e0 bord d'une embarcation qu'ils prirent \u00e0\nlouage en mer, pour les mener \u00e0 terre, puis ensuite les transporter en\nFrance s'ils pouvaient trouver des provisions pour l'avitailler. Quand\nje dis que touts nos Fran\u00e7ais nous quitt\u00e8rent, je dois faire observer\nque le jeune pr\u00eatre dont j'ai parl\u00e9, ayant appris que nous allions aux\nIndes-Orientales, d\u00e9sira faire le voyage avec nous pour d\u00e9barquer \u00e0 la\nc\u00f4te de Coromandel. J'y consentis volontiers, car je m'\u00e9tais pris\nd'affection pour cet homme, et non sans bonne raison, comme on le verra\nplus tard.--Quatre matelots s'enr\u00f4l\u00e8rent aussi \u00e0 bord, et se montr\u00e8rent\nbons compagnons.\nDe l\u00e0 nous pr\u00eemes la route des Indes-Occidentales, et nous gouvernions\nSud et Sud-quart-Est depuis environ vingt jours, parfois avec peu ou\npoint de vent, quand nous rencontr\u00e2mes une autre occasion, presque aussi\nd\u00e9plorable que la pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente, d'exercer notre humanit\u00e9.\nNous \u00e9tions par 27 degr\u00e9s 5 minutes de latitude septentrionale, le 19\nmars 1694-5, faisant route Sud-Est-quart-Sud, lorsque nous d\u00e9couvr\u00eemes\nune voile. Nous reconn\u00fbmes bient\u00f4t que c'\u00e9tait un gros navire, et qu'il\narrivait sur nous; mais nous ne s\u00fbmes que conclure jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'il fut\nun peu plus approch\u00e9, et que nous e\u00fbmes vu qu'il avait perdu son grand\nm\u00e2t de hune, son m\u00e2t de misaine et son beaupr\u00e9. Il tira alors un coup de\ncanon en signal de d\u00e9tresse. Le temps \u00e9tait assez bon, un beau frais\nsoufflait du Nord-Nord-Ouest; nous f\u00fbmes bient\u00f4t \u00e0 port\u00e9e de lui parler.\nNous appr\u00eemes que c'\u00e9tait un navire de Bristol, qui chargeant \u00e0 la\nBarbade pour son retour, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 entra\u00een\u00e9 hors de la rade par un\nterrible ouragan, peu de jours avant qu'il f\u00fbt pr\u00eat \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 la voile,\npendant que le capitaine et le premier lieutenant \u00e9taient all\u00e9s touts\ndeux \u00e0 terre; de sorte que, \u00e0 part la terreur qu'imprime une temp\u00eate,\nces gens ne s'\u00e9taient trouv\u00e9s que dans un cas ordinaire o\u00f9 d'habiles\nmarins auraient ramen\u00e9 le vaisseau. Il y avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 neuf semaines qu'ils\n\u00e9taient en mer, et depuis l'ouragan ils avaient essuy\u00e9 une autre\nterrible tourmente, qui les avait tout-\u00e0-fait \u00e9gar\u00e9s et jet\u00e9s \u00e0 l'Ouest,\net qui les avait d\u00e9m\u00e2t\u00e9s, ainsi que je l'ai not\u00e9 plus haut. Ils nous\ndirent qu'ils s'\u00e9taient attendu \u00e0 voir les \u00eeles Bahama, mais qu'ils\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9s plus au Sud-Est par un fort coup de vent\nNord-Nord-Ouest, le m\u00eame qui soufflait alors. N'ayant point de voiles\npour man\u0153uvrer le navire, si ce n'est la grande voile, et une sorte de\ntr\u00e9ou sur un m\u00e2t de misaine de fortune qu'ils avaient \u00e9lev\u00e9, ils ne\npouvaient courir au plus pr\u00e8s du vent, mais ils s'effor\u00e7aient de faire\nroute pour les Canaries.\nLe pire de tout, c'est que pour surcro\u00eet des fatigues qu'ils avaient\nsouffertes ils \u00e9taient \u00e0 demi morts de faim. Leur pain et leur viande\n\u00e9taient enti\u00e8rement consomm\u00e9s, il n'en restait pas une once dans le\nnavire, pas une once depuis onze jours. Pour tout soulagement ils\navaient encore de l'eau, environ un demi-baril de farine et pas mal de\nsucre. Dans l'origine ils avaient eu quelques conserves ou confitures,\nmais elles avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9vor\u00e9es. Sept barils de _rum_ restaient encore.\nIl se trouvait \u00e0 bord comme passagers un jeune homme, sa m\u00e8re et une\nfille de service, qui, croyant le b\u00e2timent pr\u00eat \u00e0 faire voile, s'y\n\u00e9taient malheureusement embarqu\u00e9s la veille de l'ouragan. Leurs\nprovisions particuli\u00e8res une fois consomm\u00e9es, leur condition \u00e9tait\ndevenue plus d\u00e9plorable que celle des autres; car l'\u00e9quipage, r\u00e9duit\nlui-m\u00eame \u00e0 la derni\u00e8re extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, n'avait eu, la chose est croyable,\naucune compassion pour les pauvres passagers: ils \u00e9taient vraiment\nplong\u00e9s dans une mis\u00e8re douloureuse \u00e0 d\u00e9peindre.\nJe n'aurais peut-\u00eatre jamais connu ce fait dans touts ses d\u00e9tails si, le\ntemps \u00e9tant favorable et le vent abattu, ma curiosit\u00e9 ne m'avait conduit\n\u00e0 bord de ce navire.--Le lieutenant en second, qui pour lors avait pris\nle commandement, vint \u00e0 notre bord, et me dit qu'ils avaient dans la\ngrande cabine trois passagers qui se trouvaient dans un \u00e9tat\nd\u00e9plorable.--\u00abVoire m\u00eame, ajouta-t-il, je pense qu'ils sont morts; car\nje n'en ai point entendu parler depuis plus de deux jours, et j'ai\ncraint de m'en informer, ne pouvant rien faire pour leur consolation.\u00bb\nNous nous appliqu\u00e2mes aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 donner tout soulagement possible \u00e0 ce\nmalheureux navire, et, par le fait, j'influen\u00e7ai si bien mon neveu, que\nj'aurais pu l'approvisionner, eussions-nous d\u00fb aller \u00e0 la Virginie ou en\ntout autre lieu de la c\u00f4te d'Am\u00e9rique pour nous ravitailler nous-m\u00eames;\nmais il n'y eut pas n\u00e9cessit\u00e9.\nCes pauvres gens se trouvaient alors dans un nouveau danger: ils avaient\n\u00e0 redouter de manger trop, quel que f\u00fbt m\u00eame le peu de nourriture qu'on\nleur donn\u00e2t.--Le second ou commandant avait amen\u00e9 avec lui six matelots\ndans sa chaloupe; mais les infortun\u00e9s semblaient des squelettes et\n\u00e9taient si faibles qu'ils pouvaient \u00e0 peine se tenir \u00e0 leurs rames. Le\nsecond lui-m\u00eame \u00e9tait fort mal et \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 mort de faim; car il ne\ns'\u00e9tait rien r\u00e9serv\u00e9, d\u00e9clara-t-il, de plus que ses hommes, et n'avait\ntoujours pris que part \u00e9gale de chaque pitance.\nJe lui recommandai de manger avec r\u00e9serve, et je m'empressai de lui\npr\u00e9senter de la nourriture; il n'eut pas aval\u00e9 trois bouch\u00e9es qu'il\ncommen\u00e7a \u00e0 \u00e9prouver du malaise: aussi s'arr\u00eata-t-il, et notre chirurgien\nlui m\u00eala avec un peu de bouillon quelque chose qu'il dit devoir lui\nservir \u00e0 la fois d'aliment et de rem\u00e8de. D\u00e8s qu'il l'eut pris il se\nsentit mieux. Dans cette entrefaite je n'oubliai pas les matelots. Je\nleur fis donner des vivres, et les pauvres diables les d\u00e9vor\u00e8rent plut\u00f4t\nqu'ils ne les mang\u00e8rent. Ils \u00e9taient si affam\u00e9s qu'ils enrageaient en\nquelque sorte et ne pouvaient se contenir. Deux entre autres mang\u00e8rent\navec tant de voracit\u00e9, qu'ils faillirent \u00e0 mourir le lendemain matin.\nLa vue de la d\u00e9tresse de ces infortun\u00e9s me remua profond\u00e9ment, et\nrappela \u00e0 mon souvenir la terrible perspective qui se d\u00e9roulait devant\nmoi \u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e dans mon \u00eele, o\u00f9 je n'avais pas une bouch\u00e9e de\nnourriture, pas m\u00eame l'espoir de m'en procurer; o\u00f9 pour surcro\u00eet j'\u00e9tais\ndans la continuelle appr\u00e9hension de servir de proie \u00e0 d'autres\ncr\u00e9atures.--Pendant tout le temps que le second nous fit le r\u00e9cit de la\nsituation mis\u00e9rable de l'\u00e9quipage je ne pus \u00e9loigner de mon esprit ce\nqu'il m'avait cont\u00e9 des trois pauvres passagers de la grande cabine,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire la m\u00e8re, son fils et la fille de service, dont il n'avait\npas eu de nouvelles depuis deux ou trois jours, et que, il semblait\nl'avouer, on avait enti\u00e8rement n\u00e9glig\u00e9s, les propres souffrances de son\nmonde \u00e9tant si grandes. J'avais d\u00e9duit de cela qu'on ne leur avait\nr\u00e9ellement donn\u00e9 aucune nourriture, par cons\u00e9quent qu'ils devaient touts\navoir p\u00e9ri, et que peut-\u00eatre ils \u00e9taient touts \u00e9tendus morts sur le\nplancher de la cabine.\nTandis que je gardais \u00e0 bord le lieutenant, que nous appelions le\ncapitaine, avec ses gens, afin de les restaurer, je n'oubliai pas que le\nreste de l'\u00e9quipage se mourait de faim, et j'envoyai vers le navire ma\npropre chaloupe, mont\u00e9e par mon second et douze hommes, pour lui porter\nun sac de biscuit et quatre ou cinq pi\u00e8ces de b\u0153uf. Notre chirurgien\nenjoignit aux matelots de faire cuire cette viande en leur pr\u00e9sence, et\nde faire sentinelle dans la cuisine pour emp\u00eacher ces infortun\u00e9s de\nmanger la viande crue ou de l'arracher du pot avant qu'elle f\u00fbt bien\ncuite, puis de n'en donner \u00e0 chacun que peu \u00e0 la fois. Par cette\npr\u00e9caution il sauva ces hommes, qui autrement se seraient tu\u00e9s avec\ncette m\u00eame nourriture qu'on leur donnait pour conserver leur vie.\nJ'ordonnai en m\u00eame temps au second d'entrer dans la grande cabine et de\nvoir dans quel \u00e9tat se trouvaient les pauvres passagers, et, s'ils\n\u00e9taient encore vivants, de les r\u00e9conforter et de leur administrer les\nsecours convenables. Le chirurgien lui donna une cruche de ce bouillon\npr\u00e9par\u00e9, que sur notre bord il avait fait prendre au lieutenant, lequel\nbouillon, affirmait-il, devait les remettre petit \u00e0 petit.\nLA CABINE\nNon content de cela, et, comme je l'ai dit plus haut, ayant un grand\nd\u00e9sir d'assister \u00e0 la sc\u00e8ne de mis\u00e8re que je savais devoir m'\u00eatre\nofferte par le navire lui-m\u00eame d'une mani\u00e8re plus saisissante que tout\nr\u00e9cit possible, je pris avec moi le capitaine, comme on l'appelait\nalors, et je partis peu apr\u00e8s dans sa chaloupe.\nJe trouvai \u00e0 bord les pauvres matelots presque en r\u00e9volte pour arracher\nla viande de la chaudi\u00e8re avant qu'elle f\u00fbt cuite; mais mon second avait\nsuivi ses ordres et fait faire bonne garde \u00e0 la porte de la cuisine; et\nla sentinelle qu'il avait plac\u00e9e l\u00e0, apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9puis\u00e9 toutes\npersuasions possibles pour leur faire prendre patience, les repoussait\npar la force. N\u00e9anmoins elle ordonna de tremper dans le pot quelques\nbiscuits pour les amollir avec le gras du bouillon,--on appelle cela\n_brewis_,--et d'en distribuer un \u00e0 chacun pour appaiser leur faim:\nc'\u00e9tait leur propre conservation qui l'obligeait, leur disait-elle, de\nne leur en donner que peu \u00e0 la fois. Tout cela \u00e9tait bel et bon; mais si\nje ne fusse pas venu \u00e0 bord en compagnie de leur commandant et de leurs\nofficiers, si je ne leur avais adress\u00e9 de bonnes paroles et m\u00eame\nquelques menaces de ne plus rien leur donner, je crois qu'ils auraient\np\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de vive force dans la cuisine et arrach\u00e9 la viande du fourneau:\ncar Ventre affam\u00e9 n'a point d'oreilles.--Nous les pacifi\u00e2mes pourtant:\nd'abord nous leur donn\u00e2mes \u00e0 manger peu \u00e0 peu et avec retenue, puis nous\nleur accord\u00e2mes davantage, enfin nous les m\u00eemes \u00e0 discr\u00e9tion, et ils\ns'en trouv\u00e8rent assez bien.\nMais la mis\u00e8re des pauvres passagers de la cabine \u00e9tait d'une autre\nnature et bien au-del\u00e0 de tout le reste; car, l'\u00e9quipage ayant si peu\npour lui-m\u00eame, il n'\u00e9tait que trop vrai qu'il les avait d'abord tenus\nfort ch\u00e9tivement, puis \u00e0 la fin qu'il les avait totalement n\u00e9glig\u00e9s; de\nsorte qu'on e\u00fbt pu dire qu'ils n'avaient eu r\u00e9ellement aucune nourriture\ndepuis six ou sept jours, et qu'ils n'en avaient eu que tr\u00e8s-peu les\njours pr\u00e9c\u00e9dents.\nLa pauvre m\u00e8re, qui, \u00e0 ce que le lieutenant nous rapporta, \u00e9tait une\nfemme de bon sens et de bonne \u00e9ducation, s'\u00e9tait par tendresse pour son\nfils impos\u00e9 tant de privations, qu'elle avait fini par succomber; et\nquand notre second entra elle \u00e9tait assise sur le plancher de la cabine,\nentre deux chaises auxquelles elle se tenait fortement, son dos appuy\u00e9\ncontre le lambris, la t\u00eate affaiss\u00e9e dans les \u00e9paules, et semblable \u00e0 un\ncadavre, bien qu'elle ne f\u00fbt pas tout-\u00e0-fait morte. Mon second lui dit\ntout ce qu'il put pour la ranimer et l'encourager, et avec une cuill\u00e8re\nlui fit couler du bouillon dans la bouche. Elle ouvrit les l\u00e8vres, elle\nleva une main, mais elle ne put parler. Cependant elle entendit ce qu'il\nlui disait, et lui fit signe qu'il \u00e9tait trop tard pour elle; puis elle\nlui montra son enfant, comme si elle e\u00fbt voulu dire: Prenez-en soin.\nN\u00e9anmoins le second, excessivement \u00e9mu \u00e0 ce spectacle, s'effor\u00e7ait de\nlui introduire un peu de bouillon dans la bouche, et, \u00e0 ce qu'il\npr\u00e9tendit, il lui en fit avaler deux ou trois cuiller\u00e9es: je doute qu'il\nen f\u00fbt bien s\u00fbr. N'importe! c'\u00e9tait trop tard: elle mourut la m\u00eame nuit.\nLe jeune homme, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 sauv\u00e9 au prix de la vie de la plus\naffectionn\u00e9e des m\u00e8res, ne se trouvait pas tout-\u00e0-fait aussi affaibli;\ncependant il \u00e9tait \u00e9tendu roide sur un lit, n'ayant plus qu'un souffle\nde vie. Il tenait dans sa bouche un morceau d'un vieux gant qu'il avait\nd\u00e9vor\u00e9. Comme il \u00e9tait jeune et avait plus de vigueur que sa m\u00e8re, le\nsecond r\u00e9ussit \u00e0 lui verser quelque peu de la potion dans le gosier, et\nil commen\u00e7a sensiblement \u00e0 se ranimer; pourtant quelque temps apr\u00e8s, lui\nen ayant donn\u00e9 deux ou trois grosses cuiller\u00e9es, il se trouva fort mal\net les rendit.\nDes soins furent ensuite donn\u00e9s \u00e0 la pauvre servante. Pr\u00e8s de sa\nma\u00eetresse elle \u00e9tait couch\u00e9e tout de son long sur le plancher, comme une\npersonne tomb\u00e9e en apoplexie, et elle luttait avec la mort. Ses membres\n\u00e9taient tordus: une de ses mains \u00e9tait agripp\u00e9e \u00e0 un b\u00e2ton de chaise, et\nle tenait si ferme qu'on ne put ais\u00e9ment le lui faire l\u00e2cher; son autre\nbras \u00e9tait pass\u00e9 sur sa t\u00eate, et ses deux pieds, \u00e9tendus et joints,\ns'appuyaient avec force contre la barre de la table. Bref, elle gisait\nl\u00e0 comme un agonisant dans le travail de la mort: cependant elle\nsurv\u00e9cut aussi.\nLa pauvre cr\u00e9ature n'\u00e9tait pas seulement \u00e9puis\u00e9e par la faim et bris\u00e9e\npar les terreurs de la mort; mais, comme nous l'appr\u00eemes de l'\u00e9quipage,\nelle avait le c\u0153ur d\u00e9chir\u00e9 pour sa ma\u00eetresse, qu'elle voyait mourante\ndepuis deux ou trois jours et qu'elle aimait fort tendrement.\nNous ne savions que faire de cette pauvre fille; et lorsque notre\nchirurgien, qui \u00e9tait un homme de beaucoup de savoir et d'exp\u00e9rience,\nl'eut \u00e0 grands soins rappel\u00e9e \u00e0 la vie, il eut \u00e0 lui rendre la raison;\net pendant fort long-temps elle resta \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s folle, comme on le\nverra par la suite.\nQuiconque lira ces m\u00e9moires voudra bien consid\u00e9rer que les visites en\nmer ne se font pas comme dans un voyage sur terre, o\u00f9 l'on s\u00e9journe\nquelquefois une ou deux semaines en un m\u00eame lieu. Il nous appartenait de\nsecourir l'\u00e9quipage de ce navire en d\u00e9tresse, mais non de demeurer avec\nlui; et, quoiqu'il d\u00e9sir\u00e2t fort d'aller de conserve avec nous pendant\nquelques jours, il nous \u00e9tait pourtant impossible de convoyer un\nb\u00e2timent qui n'avait point de m\u00e2ts. N\u00e9anmoins, quand le capitaine nous\npria de l'aider \u00e0 dresser un grand m\u00e2t de hune et une sorte de m\u00e2tereau\nde hune \u00e0 son m\u00e2t de misaine de fortune, nous ne nous refus\u00e2mes pas \u00e0\nrester en panne trois ou quatre jours. Alors, apr\u00e8s lui avoir donn\u00e9 cinq\nbarils de b\u0153uf et de porc, deux barriques de biscuits, et une provision\nde pois, de farine et d'autres choses dont nous pouvions disposer, et\navoir pris en retour trois tonneaux de sucre, du _rum_, et quelques\npi\u00e8ces de huit, nous les quitt\u00e2mes en gardant \u00e0 notre bord, \u00e0 leur\npropre requ\u00eate, le jeune homme et la servante avec touts leurs bagages.\nLe jeune homme, dans sa dix-septi\u00e8me ann\u00e9e environ, gar\u00e7on aimable, bien\n\u00e9lev\u00e9, modeste et sensible, profond\u00e9ment afflig\u00e9 de la perte de sa m\u00e8re,\nson p\u00e8re \u00e9tant mort \u00e0 la Barbade peu de mois auparavant, avait suppli\u00e9\nle chirurgien de vouloir bien m'engager \u00e0 le retirer de ce vaisseau,\ndont le cruel \u00e9quipage, disait-il, \u00e9tait l'assassin de sa m\u00e8re; et par\nle fait il l'\u00e9tait, du moins passivement: car, pour la pauvre veuve\nd\u00e9laiss\u00e9e ils auraient pu \u00e9pargner quelques petites choses qui\nl'auraient sauv\u00e9e, n'e\u00fbt-ce \u00e9t\u00e9 que juste de quoi l'emp\u00eacher de mourir.\nMais la faim ne conna\u00eet ni ami, ni famille, ni justice, ni droit; c'est\npourquoi elle est sans remords et sans compassion.\nLe chirurgien lui avait expos\u00e9 que nous faisions un voyage de long\ncours, qui le s\u00e9parerait de touts ses amis et le replongerait peut-\u00eatre\ndans une aussi mauvaise situation que celle o\u00f9 nous l'avions trouv\u00e9,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire mourant de faim dans le monde; et il avait r\u00e9pondu:--\u00abPeu\nm'importe o\u00f9 j'irai, pourvu que je sois d\u00e9livr\u00e9, du f\u00e9roce \u00e9quipage\nparmi lequel je suis! Le capitaine,--c'est de moi qu'il entendait\nparler, car il ne connaissait nullement mon neveu,--m'a sauv\u00e9 la vie, je\nsuis s\u00fbr qu'il ne voudra pas me faire de chagrin; et quant \u00e0 la\nservante, j'ai la certitude, si elle recouvre sa raison, qu'elle sera\ntr\u00e8s-reconnaissante, n'importe le lieu o\u00f9 vous nous emmeniez.\u00bb--Le\nchirurgien m'avait rapport\u00e9 tout ceci d'une fa\u00e7on si touchante, que je\nn'avais pu r\u00e9sister, et que nous les avions pris \u00e0 bord touts les deux,\navec touts leurs bagages, except\u00e9 onze barriques de sucre qu'on n'avait\npu remuer ou aveindre. Mais, comme le jeune homme en avait le\nconnaissement, j'avais fait signer \u00e0 son capitaine un \u00e9crit par lequel\nil s'obligeait d\u00e8s son arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 Bristol \u00e0 se rendre chez un M. Rogers,\nn\u00e9gociant auquel le jeune homme s'\u00e9tait dit alli\u00e9, et \u00e0 lui remettre une\nlettre de ma part, avec toutes les marchandises laiss\u00e9es \u00e0 bord\nappartenant \u00e0 la d\u00e9funte veuve. Il n'en fut rien, je pr\u00e9sume: car je\nn'appris jamais que ce vaisseau e\u00fbt abord\u00e9 \u00e0 Bristol. Il se sera perdu\nen mer, cela est probable. D\u00e9sempar\u00e9 comme il \u00e9tait et si \u00e9loign\u00e9 de\ntoute terre, mon opinion est qu'\u00e0 la premi\u00e8re tourmente qui aura souffl\u00e9\nil aura d\u00fb couler bas. D\u00e9j\u00e0 il faisait eau et avait sa cale avari\u00e9e\nquand nous le rencontr\u00e2mes.\nNous \u00e9tions alors par 19 degr\u00e9s 32 minutes de latitude, et nous avions\neu jusque l\u00e0 un voyage passable comme temps, quoique les vents d'abord\neussent \u00e9t\u00e9 contraires.--Je ne vous fatiguerai pas du r\u00e9cit des petits\nincidents de vents, de temps et de courants advenus durant la travers\u00e9e;\nmais, coupant court eu \u00e9gard \u00e0 ce qui va suivre, je dirai que j'arrivai\n\u00e0 mon ancienne habitation, \u00e0 mon \u00eele, le 10 avril 1695.--Ce ne fut pas\nsans grande difficult\u00e9 que je la retrouvai. Comme autrefois venant du\nBr\u00e9sil, je l'avais abord\u00e9e par le Sud et Sud-Est, que je l'avais quitt\u00e9e\nde m\u00eame, et qu'alors je cinglais entre le continent et l'\u00eele, n'ayant ni\ncarte de la c\u00f4te, ni point de rep\u00e8re, je ne la reconnus pas quand je la\nvis. Je ne savais si c'\u00e9tait elle ou non.\nNous r\u00f4d\u00e2mes long-temps, et nous abord\u00e2mes \u00e0 plusieurs \u00eeles dans les\nbouches de la grande rivi\u00e8re Or\u00e9noque, mais inutilement. Toutefois\nj'appris en c\u00f4toyant le rivage que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 jadis dans une grande\nerreur, c'est-\u00e0-dire que le continent que j'avais cru voir de l'\u00eele o\u00f9\nje vivais n'\u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement point la terre ferme, mais une \u00eele fort\nlongue, ou plut\u00f4t une cha\u00eene d'\u00eeles s'\u00e9tendant d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 \u00e0 l'autre des\nvastes bouches de la grande rivi\u00e8re; et que les Sauvages qui venaient\ndans mon \u00eele n'\u00e9taient pas proprement ceux qu'on appelle Caribes, mais\ndes insulaires et autres barbares de la m\u00eame esp\u00e8ce, qui habitaient un\npeu plus pr\u00e8s de moi.\nBref, je visitai sans r\u00e9sultat quantit\u00e9 de ces \u00eeles: j'en trouvai\nquelques-unes peupl\u00e9es et quelques-unes d\u00e9sertes. Dans une entre autres\nje rencontrai des Espagnols, et je crus qu'ils y r\u00e9sidaient; mais, leur\nayant parl\u00e9, j'appris qu'ils avaient un _sloop_ mouill\u00e9 dans une petite\ncrique pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0; qu'ils venaient en ce lieu pour faire du sel et\np\u00eacher s'il \u00e9tait possible quelques hu\u00eetres \u00e0 perle; enfin qu'ils\nappartenaient \u00e0 l'\u00eele de la Trinit\u00e9, situ\u00e9e plus au Nord, par les 10 et\n11 degr\u00e9s de latitude.\nC\u00f4toyant ainsi d'une \u00eele \u00e0 l'autre, tant\u00f4t avec le navire, tant\u00f4t avec\nla chaloupe des Fran\u00e7ais,--nous l'avions trouv\u00e9e \u00e0 notre convenance, et\nl'avions gard\u00e9e sous leur bon plaisir,--j'atteignis enfin le c\u00f4t\u00e9 Sud de\nmon \u00eele, et je reconnus les lieux de prime abord. Je fis donc mettre le\nnavire \u00e0 l'ancre, en face de la petite crique o\u00f9 gisait mon ancienne\nhabitation.\nSit\u00f4t que je vins en vue de l'\u00eele j'appelai VENDREDI et je lui demandai\ns'il savait o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait. Il promena ses regards quelque temps, puis tout\n\u00e0 coup il battit des mains et s'\u00e9cria:--\u00abO, oui! O, voil\u00e0! O, oui! O,\nvoil\u00e0!\u00bb--Et montrant du doigt notre ancienne habitation, il se prit \u00e0\ndanser et \u00e0 cabrioler comme un fou, et j'eus beaucoup de peine \u00e0\nl'emp\u00eacher de sauter \u00e0 la mer pour gagner la rive \u00e0 la nage.\n--\u00abEh bien! VENDREDI, lui demandai-je, penses-tu que nous trouvions\nquelqu'un ici? penses-tu que nous revoyions ton p\u00e8re?\u00bb--Il demeura\nquelque temps muet comme une souche; mais quand je nommai son p\u00e8re, le\npauvre et affectionn\u00e9 gar\u00e7on par\u00fbt afflig\u00e9, et je vis des larmes couler\nen abondance sur sa face.--\u00abQu'est-ce, VENDREDI? lui dis-je, te\nf\u00e2cherait-il de revoir ton p\u00e8re?\u00bb--\u00abNon, non, r\u00e9pondit-il en secouant la\nt\u00eate, non voir lui plus, non jamais plus voir encore!\u00bb--Pourquoi donc,\nVENDREDI, repris-je, comment sais-tu cela?\u00bb--\u00abOh non! oh non!\ns'\u00e9cria-t-il; lui mort il y a long-temps; il y a long-temps lui beaucoup\nvieux homme.\u00bb--\u00abBah! bah! VENDREDI, tu n'en sais rien; mais allons-nous\ntrouver quelqu'un autre?\u00bb--Le compagnon avait, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, de\nmeilleurs yeux que moi; il les jeta juste sur la colline au-dessus de\nmon ancienne maison, et, quoique nous en fussions \u00e0 une demi-lieue, il\nse mit \u00e0 crier:--\u00abMoi voir! moi voir! oui, oui, moi voir beaucoup hommes\nl\u00e0, et l\u00e0, et l\u00e0.\u00bb\nRETOUR DANS L'\u00ceLE\nJe regardai, mais je ne pus voir personne, pas m\u00eame avec ma lunette\nd'approche, probablement parce que je la braquais mal, car mon serviteur\navait raison: comme je l'appris le lendemain, il y avait l\u00e0 cinq ou six\nhommes arr\u00eat\u00e9s \u00e0 regarder le navire, et ne sachant que penser de nous.\nAussit\u00f4t que VENDREDI m'eut dit qu'il voyait du monde, je fis d\u00e9ployer\nle pavillon anglais et tirer trois coups de canon, pour donner \u00e0\nentendre que nous \u00e9tions amis; et, un demi-quart d'heure apr\u00e8s, nous\napper\u00e7\u00fbmes une fum\u00e9e s'\u00e9lever du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la crique. J'ordonnai\nimm\u00e9diatement de mettre la chaloupe \u00e0 la mer, et, prenant VENDREDI avec\nmoi, j'arborai le pavillon blanc ou parlementaire et je me rendis\ndirectement \u00e0 terre, accompagn\u00e9 du jeune religieux dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9\nquestion. Je lui avais cont\u00e9 l'histoire de mon existence en cette \u00eele,\nle genre de vie que j'y avais men\u00e9, toutes les particularit\u00e9s ayant\ntrait et \u00e0 moi-m\u00eame et \u00e0 ceux que j'y avais laiss\u00e9s, et ce r\u00e9cit l'avait\nrendu extr\u00eamement d\u00e9sireux de me suivre. J'avais en outre avec moi\nenviron seize hommes tr\u00e8s-bien arm\u00e9s pour le cas o\u00f9 nous aurions trouv\u00e9\nquelques nouveaux h\u00f4tes qui ne nous eussent pas connus; mais nous\nn'e\u00fbmes pas besoin d'armes.\nComme nous allions \u00e0 terre durant le flot, presque \u00e0 mar\u00e9e haute, nous\nvogu\u00e2mes droit dans la crique; et le premier homme sur lequel je fixai\nmes yeux fut l'Espagnol dont j'avais sauv\u00e9 la vie, et que je reconnus\nparfaitement bien \u00e0 sa figure; quant \u00e0 son costume, je le d\u00e9crirai plus\ntard. J'ordonnai d'abord que, except\u00e9 moi, personne ne m\u00eet pied \u00e0 terre;\nmais il n'y eut pas moyen de retenir VENDREDI dans la chaloupe: car ce\nfils affectionn\u00e9, avait d\u00e9couvert son p\u00e8re par del\u00e0 les Espagnols, \u00e0 une\ngrande distance, o\u00f9 je ne le distinguais aucunement; si on ne l'e\u00fbt pas\nlaiss\u00e9 descendre au rivage, il aurait saut\u00e9 \u00e0 la mer. Il ne fut pas plus\nt\u00f4t d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 qu'il vola vers son p\u00e8re comme une fl\u00e8che d\u00e9coch\u00e9e d'un\narc. Malgr\u00e9 la plus ferme r\u00e9solution, il n'est pas un homme qui e\u00fbt pu\nse d\u00e9fendre de verser des larmes en voyant les transports de joie de ce\npauvre gar\u00e7on quand il rejoignit son p\u00e8re; comment il l'embrassa, le\nbaisa, lui caressa la face, le prit dans ses bras, l'assit sur un arbre\nabattu et s'\u00e9tendit pr\u00e8s de lui; puis se dressa et le regarda pendant un\nquart d'heure comme on regarderait une peinture \u00e9trange; puis se coucha\npar terre, lui caressa et lui baisa les jambes; puis enfin se releva et\nle regarda fixement. On e\u00fbt dit une fascination; mais le jour suivant un\nchien m\u00eame aurait ri de voir les nouvelles manifestations de son\naffection. Dans la matin\u00e9e, durant plusieurs heures il se promena avec\nson p\u00e8re \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 le long du rivage, le tenant toujours par la main\ncomme s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 une lady; et de temps en temps venant lui chercher\ndans la chaloupe soit un morceau de sucre, soit un verre de liqueur, un\nbiscuit ou quelque autre bonne chose. Dans l'apr\u00e8s-midi ses folies se\ntransform\u00e8rent encore: alors il asseyait le vieillard, par terre, se\nmettait \u00e0 danser autour de lui, faisait mille postures, mille\ngesticulations bouffonnes, et lui parlait et lui contait en m\u00eame temps\npour le divertir une histoire ou une autre de ses voyages et ce qui lui\n\u00e9tait advenu dans les contr\u00e9es lointaines. Bref, si la m\u00eame affection\nfiliale pour leurs parents se trouvait chez les Chr\u00e9tiens, dans notre\npartie du monde, on serait tent\u00e9 de dire que \u00e7'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 chose \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\ninutile que le cinqui\u00e8me Commandement.\nMais ceci est une digression; je retourne \u00e0 mon d\u00e9barquement. S'il me\nfallait relater toutes les c\u00e9r\u00e9monies et toutes les civilit\u00e9s avec\nlesquelles les Espagnols me re\u00e7urent, je n'en aurais jamais fini. Le\npremier Espagnol qui s'avan\u00e7a, et que je reconnus tr\u00e8s-bien, comme je\nl'ai dit, \u00e9tait celui dont j'avais sauv\u00e9 la vie. Accompagn\u00e9 d'un des\nsiens, portant un drapeau parlementaire, il s'approcha de la chaloupe.\nNon-seulement, il ne me remit pas d'abord, mais il n'eut pas m\u00eame la\npens\u00e9e, l'id\u00e9e, que ce f\u00fbt moi qui revenais, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que je lui eusse\nparl\u00e9.--\u00abSenhor, lui dis-je en portugais, ne me reconnaissez-vous\npas?\u00bb--Il ne r\u00e9pondit pas un mot; mais, donnant son mousquet \u00e0 l'homme\nqui \u00e9tait avec lui, il ouvrit les bras, et, disant quelque chose en\nespagnol que je n'entendis qu'imparfaitement, il s'avan\u00e7a pour\nm'embrasser; puis il ajouta qu'il \u00e9tait inexcusable de n'avoir pas\nreconnu cette figure qui lui avait une fois apparu comme celle d'un Ange\nenvoy\u00e9 du Ciel pour lui sauver la vie; et une foule d'autres jolies\nchoses, comme en a toujours \u00e0 son service un Espagnol bien \u00e9lev\u00e9;\nensuite, faisant signe de la main \u00e0 la personne qui l'accompagnait, il\nla pria d'aller appeler ses camarades. Alors il me demanda si je voulais\nme rendre \u00e0 mon ancienne habitation, o\u00f9 il me remettrait en possession\nde ma propre demeure, et o\u00f9 je verrais qu'il ne s'y \u00e9tait fait que de\nch\u00e9tives am\u00e9liorations. Je le suivis donc; mais, h\u00e9las! il me fut aussi\nimpossible de retrouver les lieux que si je n'y fusse jamais all\u00e9; car\non avait plant\u00e9 tant d'arbres, on les avait plac\u00e9s de telle mani\u00e8re, si\n\u00e9pais et si pr\u00e8s l'un de l'autre, et en dix ans de temps ils \u00e9taient\ndevenus si gros, qu'en un mot, la place \u00e9tait inaccessible, except\u00e9 par\ncertains d\u00e9tours et chemins d\u00e9rob\u00e9s que seulement ceux qui les avaient\npratiqu\u00e9s pouvaient reconna\u00eetre.\nJe lui demandai \u00e0 quoi bon toutes ces fortifications. Il me r\u00e9pondit que\nj'en comprendrais assez la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 quand il m'aurait cont\u00e9 comment ils\navaient pass\u00e9 leur temps depuis leur arriv\u00e9e dans l'\u00eele, apr\u00e8s qu'ils\neurent eu le malheur de me trouver parti. Il me dit qu'il n'avait pu que\nparticiper de c\u0153ur \u00e0 ma bonne fortune lorsqu'il avait appris que je m'en\n\u00e9tais all\u00e9 sur un bon navire, et tout \u00e0 ma satisfaction, que maintes\nfois il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pris de la ferme persuasion qu'un jour ou l'autre il\nme reverrait; mais que jamais il ne lui \u00e9tait rien arriv\u00e9 dans sa vie de\nplus consternant et de plus affligeant d'abord que le d\u00e9sappointement o\u00f9\nil tomba quand \u00e0 son retour dans l'\u00eele il ne me trouva plus.\nQuant aux trois barbares,--comme il les appelait--que nous avions\nlaiss\u00e9s derri\u00e8re nous et sur lesquels il avait une longue histoire \u00e0 me\nconter, s'ils n'eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 en si petit nombre, les Espagnols se\nseraient touts crus beaucoup mieux parmi les Sauvages.--\u00abIl y a\nlong-temps que s'ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 assez forts nous serions touts en\nPurgatoire, me dit-il en se signant sur la poitrine; mais, sir, j'esp\u00e8re\nque vous ne vous f\u00e2cherez point quand je vous d\u00e9clarerai que, forc\u00e9s par\nla n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, nous avons \u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9s, pour notre propre conservation, de\nd\u00e9sarmer et de faire nos sujets ces hommes, qui, ne se contentant point\nd'\u00eatre avec mod\u00e9ration nos ma\u00eetres, voulaient se faire nos\nmeurtriers.\u00bb--Je lui r\u00e9pondis que j'avais profond\u00e9ment redout\u00e9 cela en\nlaissant ces hommes en ces lieux, et que rien ne m'avait plus affect\u00e9 \u00e0\nmon d\u00e9part de l'\u00eele que de ne pas les voir de retour, pour les mettre\nd'abord en possession de toutes choses, et laisser les autres dans un\n\u00e9tat de suj\u00e9tion selon qu'ils le m\u00e9ritaient; mais que puisqu'ils les y\navaient r\u00e9duits j'en \u00e9tais charm\u00e9, bien loin d'y trouver aucun mal; car\nje savais que c'\u00e9taient d'intraitables et d'ingouvernables coquins,\npropres \u00e0 toute esp\u00e8ce de crime.\nComme j'achevais ces paroles, l'homme qu'il avait envoy\u00e9 revint, suivi\nde onze autres. Dans le costume o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient, il \u00e9tait impossible de\ndeviner \u00e0 quelle nation ils appartenaient; mais il posa clairement la\nquestion pour eux et pour moi: d'abord il se tourna vers moi et me dit\nen les montrant:--\u00abSir, ce sont quelques-uns des gentlemen qui vous sont\nredevables de la vie.\u00bb--Puis, se tournant vers eux et me d\u00e9signant du\ndoigt, il leur fit conna\u00eetre qui j'\u00e9tais. L\u00e0-dessus ils s'approch\u00e8rent\ntouts un \u00e0 un, non pas comme s'ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 des marins et du petit\nmonde et moi leur pareil, mais r\u00e9ellement comme s'ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 des\nambassadeurs ou de nobles hommes et moi un monarque ou un grand\nconqu\u00e9rant. Leur conduite fut au plus haut degr\u00e9 obligeante et\ncourtoise, et cependant m\u00eal\u00e9 d'une m\u00e2le et majestueuse gravit\u00e9 qui leur\ns\u00e9yait tr\u00e8s-bien. Bref, ils avaient tellement plus d'entregent que moi,\nqu'\u00e0 peine savais-je comment recevoir leurs civilit\u00e9s, beaucoup moins\nencore comment leur rendre la r\u00e9ciproque.\nL'histoire de leur venue et de leur conduite dans l'\u00eele apr\u00e8s mon d\u00e9part\nest si remarquable, elle est travers\u00e9e de tant d'incidents que la\npremi\u00e8re partie de ma relation aidera \u00e0 comprendre, elle a tant de\nliaison dans la plupart de ses d\u00e9tails avec le r\u00e9cit que j'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0\ndonn\u00e9, que je ne saurais me d\u00e9fendre de l'offrir avec grand plaisir \u00e0 la\nlecture de ceux qui viendront apr\u00e8s moi.\nJe n'embrouillerai pas plus long-temps le fil de cette histoire par une\nnarration \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re personne, ce qui me mettrait en d\u00e9pense de dix\nmille _dis-je, dit-il, et il me dit, et je lui dis_ et autres choses\nsemblables; mais je rassemblerai les faits historiquement, aussi\nexactement que me les repr\u00e9sentera ma m\u00e9moire, suivant qu'ils me les ont\ncont\u00e9s, et que je les ai recueillis dans mes entretiens avec eux sur le\nth\u00e9\u00e2tre m\u00eame.\nPour faire cela succinctement et aussi intelligiblement que possible, il\nme faut retourner aux circonstances dans lesquelles j'abandonnai l'\u00eele\net dans lesquelles se trouvaient les personnes dont j'ai \u00e0 parler.\nD'abord il est n\u00e9cessaire de r\u00e9p\u00e9ter que j'avais envoy\u00e9 le p\u00e8re de\nVENDREDI et l'Espagnol, touts les deux sauv\u00e9s, gr\u00e2ce moi, des Sauvages;\nque je les avais envoy\u00e9s, dis-je, dans une grande pirogue \u00e0 la\nterre-ferme, comme je le croyais alors, pour chercher les compagnons de\nl'Espagnol, afin de les tirer du malheur o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient, afin de les\nsecourir pour le pr\u00e9sent, et d'inventer ensemble par la suite, si faire\nse pouvait, quelques moyens de d\u00e9livrance.\nQuand je les envoyai ma d\u00e9livrance n'avait aucune probabilit\u00e9, rien ne\nme donnait lieu de l'esp\u00e9rer, pas plus que vingt ans auparavant; bien\nmoins encore avais-je quelque prescience de ce qui apr\u00e8s arriva,\nj'entends qu'un navire anglais aborderait l\u00e0 pour les emmener. Aussi\nquand ils revinrent quelle dut \u00eatre leur surprise, non-seulement de me\ntrouver parti, mais de trouver trois \u00e9trangers abandonn\u00e9s sur cette\nterre, en possession de tout ce que j'avais laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re moi, et qui\nautrement leur serait \u00e9chu!\nLa premi\u00e8re chose dont toutefois je m'enquis,--pour reprendre o\u00f9 j'en\nsuis rest\u00e9,--fut ce qui leur \u00e9tait personnel; et je priai l'Espagnol de\nme faire un r\u00e9cit particulier de son voyage dans la pirogue \u00e0 la\nrecherche de ses compatriotes. Il me dit que cette portion de leurs\naventures offrait peu de vari\u00e9t\u00e9, car rien de remarquable ne leur \u00e9tait\nadvenu en route: ils avaient eu un temps fort calme et une mer douce.\nQuant \u00e0 ses compatriotes, ils furent, \u00e0 n'en pas douter, ravis de le\nrevoir.--\u00c0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, il \u00e9tait le principal d'entre eux, le\ncapitaine du navire sur lequel ils avaient naufrag\u00e9 \u00e9tant mort depuis\nquelque temps.--Ils furent d'autant plus surpris de le voir, qu'ils le\nsavaient tomb\u00e9 entre les mains des Sauvages, et le supposaient d\u00e9vor\u00e9\ncomme touts les autres prisonniers. Quand il leur conta l'histoire de sa\nd\u00e9livrance et qu'il \u00e9tait \u00e0 m\u00eame de les emmener, ce fut comme un songe\npour eux. Leur \u00e9tonnement, selon leur propre expression, fut semblable \u00e0\ncelui des fr\u00e8res de Joseph lorsqu'il se d\u00e9couvrit \u00e0 eux et leur raconta\nl'histoire de son exaltation \u00e0 la Cour de Pharaon. Mais quand il leur\nmontra les armes, la poudre, les balles et les provisions qu'il avait\napport\u00e9es pour leur travers\u00e9e, ils se remirent, ne se livr\u00e8rent qu'avec\nr\u00e9serve \u00e0 la joie de leur d\u00e9livrance et imm\u00e9diatement se pr\u00e9par\u00e8rent \u00e0\nle suivre.\nLeur premi\u00e8re affaire fut de se procurer des canots; et en ceci ils se\nvirent oblig\u00e9s de faire violence \u00e0 leur honneur, de tromper leurs amis\nles Sauvages, et de leur emprunter deux grands canots ou pirogues, sous\npr\u00e9texte d'aller \u00e0 la p\u00eache ou en partie de plaisir.\nDans ces embarcations ils partirent le matin suivant. Il est clair qu'il\nne leur fallut pas beaucoup de temps pour leurs pr\u00e9paratifs, n'ayant ni\nbagages, ni hardes, ni provisions, rien au monde que ce qu'ils avaient\nsur eux et quelques racines qui leur servaient \u00e0 faire leur pain.\nBATTERIE DES INSULAIRES\nMes deux messagers furent en tout trois semaines absents, et dans cet\nintervalle, malheureusement pour eux, comme je l'ai rapport\u00e9 dans la\npremi\u00e8re partie, je trouvai l'occasion de me tirer de mon \u00eele, laissant\nderri\u00e8re moi trois bandits, les plus impudents, les plus endurcis, les\nplus ingouvernables, les plus turbulents qu'on e\u00fbt su rencontrer, au\ngrand chagrin et au grand d\u00e9sappointement des pauvres Espagnols, ayez-en\nl'assurance.\nLa seule chose juste que firent ces coquins, ce fut de donner ma lettre\naux Espagnols quand ils arriv\u00e8rent, et de leur offrir des provisions et\ndes secours, comme je le leur avais recommand\u00e9. Ils leur remirent aussi\nde longues instructions \u00e9crites que je leur avais laiss\u00e9es, et qui\ncontenaient les m\u00e9thodes particuli\u00e8res dont j'avais fait usage dans le\ngouvernement de ma vie en ces lieux: la mani\u00e8re de faire cuire mon pain,\nd'\u00e9lever mes ch\u00e8vres apprivois\u00e9es et de semer mon bl\u00e9; comment je\ns\u00e9chais mes raisins, je faisais mes pois et en un mot tout ce que je\nfabriquais. Tout cela, couch\u00e9 par \u00e9crit, fut remis par les trois\nvauriens aux Espagnols, dont deux comprenaient assez bien l'anglais. Ils\nne refus\u00e8rent pas, qui plus est, de s'accommoder avec eux pour toute\nautre chose, car ils s'accord\u00e8rent tr\u00e8s-bien pendant quelque temps. Ils\npartag\u00e8rent \u00e9galement avec eux la maison ou la grotte, et commenc\u00e8rent\npar vivre fort sociablement. Le principal Espagnol, qui m'avait assist\u00e9\ndans beaucoup de mes op\u00e9rations, administrait toutes les affaires avec\nl'aide du p\u00e8re de VENDREDI. Quant aux Anglais, ils ne faisaient que\nr\u00f4der \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans l'\u00eele, tuer des perroquets, attraper des tortues; et\nquand le soir ils revenaient \u00e0 la maison, les Espagnols pourvoyaient \u00e0\nleur souper.\nLes Espagnols s'en seraient arrang\u00e9s si les autres les avaient seulement\nlaiss\u00e9s en repos; mais leur c\u0153ur ne pouvait leur permettre de le faire\nlong-temps; et, comme le chien dans la cr\u00e8che, ils ne voulaient ni\nmanger ni souffrir que les autres mangeassent. Leurs diff\u00e9rends\ntoutefois furent d'abord peu de chose et ne valent pas la peine d'\u00eatre\nrapport\u00e9s; mais \u00e0 la fin une guerre ouverte \u00e9clata et commen\u00e7a avec\ntoute la grossi\u00e8ret\u00e9 et l'insolence qui se puissent imaginer, sans\nraison, sans provocation, contrairement \u00e0 la nature et au sens commun;\net, bien que le premier rapport m'en e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fait par les Espagnols\neux-m\u00eames, que je pourrais qualifier d'accusateur, quand je vins \u00e0\nquestionner les vauriens, ils ne purent en d\u00e9mentir un mot.\nMais avant d'entrer dans les d\u00e9tails de cette seconde partie, il faut\nque je r\u00e9pare une omission faite dans la premi\u00e8re. J'ai oubli\u00e9 d'y\nconsigner qu'\u00e0 l'instant de lever l'ancre pour mettre \u00e0 la voile, il\ns'engagea \u00e0 bord de notre navire une petite querelle, qui un instant fit\ncraindre une seconde r\u00e9volte; elle ne s'appaisa que lorsque le\ncapitaine, s'armant de courage et r\u00e9clamant notre assistance, eut s\u00e9par\u00e9\nde vive force et fait prisonniers deux des plus s\u00e9ditieux, et les eut\nfait mettre aux fers. Comme ils s'\u00e9taient m\u00eal\u00e9s activement aux premiers\nd\u00e9sordres, et qu'en dernier lieu ils avaient laiss\u00e9 \u00e9chapper quelques\npropos grossiers et dangereux, il les mena\u00e7a de les transporter ainsi en\nAngleterre pour y \u00eatre pendus comme rebelles et comme pirates.\nCette menace, quoique probablement le capitaine n'e\u00fbt pas l'intention de\nl'ex\u00e9cuter, effraya les autres matelots; et quelques-uns d'entre eux\nmirent dans la t\u00eate de leurs camarades que le capitaine ne leur donnait\npour le pr\u00e9sent de bonnes paroles qu'afin de pouvoir gagner quelque port\nanglais, o\u00f9 ils seraient touts jet\u00e9s en prison et mis en jugement.\nLe second eut vent de cela et nous en donna connaissance; sur quoi il\nfut arr\u00eat\u00e9 que moi, qui passais toujours \u00e0 leurs yeux pour un personnage\nimportant, j'irais avec le second les rassurer et leur dire qu'ils\npouvaient \u00eatre certains, s'ils se conduisaient bien durant le reste du\nvoyage, que tout ce qu'ils avaient fait pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment serait oubli\u00e9. J'y\nallai donc; ils parurent contents apr\u00e8s que je leur eus donn\u00e9 ma parole\nd'honneur, et plus encore quand j'ordonnai que les deux hommes qui\n\u00e9taient aux fers fussent rel\u00e2ch\u00e9s et pardonn\u00e9s.\nCette mutinerie nous obligea \u00e0 jeter l'ancre pour cette nuit, attendu\nd'ailleurs que le vent \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9; le lendemain matin nous nous\napper\u00e7\u00fbmes que nos deux hommes qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 mis aux fers s'\u00e9taient\nsaisis chacun d'un mousquet et de quelques autres armes,--nous ignorions\ncombien ils avaient de poudre et de plomb,--avaient pris la pinace du\nb\u00e2timent, qui n'avait pas encore \u00e9t\u00e9 hal\u00e9e \u00e0 bord, et \u00e9taient all\u00e9s\nrejoindre \u00e0 terre leurs compagnons de sc\u00e9l\u00e9ratesse.\nAussit\u00f4t que j'en fus instruit je fis monter dans la grande chaloupe\ndouze hommes et le second, et les envoyai \u00e0 la poursuite de ces coquins;\nmais ils ne purent les trouver non plus qu'aucun des autres; car d\u00e8s\nqu'ils avaient vu la chaloupe s'approcher du rivage ils s'\u00e9taient touts\nenfuis dans les bois. Le second fut d'abord tent\u00e9, pour faire justice de\nleur coquinerie, de d\u00e9truire leurs plantations, de br\u00fbler leurs\nustensiles et leurs meubles, et de les laisser se tirer d'affaire comme\nils pourraient; mais, n'ayant pas d'ordre, il laissa toutes choses comme\nil les trouva, et, ramenant la pinace, il revint \u00e0 bord sans eux.\nCes deux hommes joints aux autres en \u00e9levaient le nombre \u00e0 cinq; mais\nles trois coquins l'emportaient tellement en sc\u00e9l\u00e9ratesse sur ceux-ci\nqu'apr\u00e8s qu'ils eurent pass\u00e9 ensemble deux ou trois jours, ils mirent \u00e0\nla porte les deux nouveau-venus, les abandonnant \u00e0 eux-m\u00eames et ne\nvoulant rien avoir de commun avec eux. Ils refus\u00e8rent m\u00eame long-temps de\nleur donner de la nourriture. Quant aux Espagnols, ils n'\u00e9taient point\nencore arriv\u00e9s.\nD\u00e8s que ceux-ci furent venus, les affaires commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 marcher; ils\nt\u00e2ch\u00e8rent d'engager les trois sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats d'Anglais \u00e0 reprendre parmi eux\nleurs deux compatriotes, afin, disaient-ils, de ne faire qu'une seule\nfamille; mais ils ne voulurent rien entendre: en sorte que les deux\npauvres diables v\u00e9curent \u00e0 part; et, voyant qu'il n'y avait que le\ntravail et l'application qui p\u00fbt les faire vivre confortablement, ils\ns'install\u00e8rent sur le rivage nord de l'\u00eele, mais un peu plus \u00e0 l'ouest,\npour \u00eatre \u00e0 l'abri des Sauvages, qui d\u00e9barquaient toujours dans la\npartie orientale.\nL\u00e0 ils battirent deux huttes, l'une pour se loger et l'autre pour servir\nde magasin. Les Espagnols leur ayant remis quelque peu de bl\u00e9 pour semer\net une partie des pois que je leur avais laiss\u00e9s, ils b\u00each\u00e8rent,\nplant\u00e8rent, firent des cl\u00f4tures, d'apr\u00e8s l'exemple que je leur avais\ndonn\u00e9 \u00e0 touts, et commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 se tirer assez bien d'affaire.\nLeur premi\u00e8re r\u00e9colte de bl\u00e9 \u00e9tait venue \u00e0 bien; et, quoiqu'ils\nn'eussent d'abord cultiv\u00e9 qu'un petit espace de terrain, vu le peu de\ntemps qu'ils avaient eu, n\u00e9anmoins c'en fut assez pour les soulager et\nles fournir de pain et d'autres aliments; l'un d'eux, qui avait rempli \u00e0\nbord les fonctions d'aide de cuisine, s'entendait fort bien \u00e0 faire des\nsoupes, des _puddings_, et quelques autres mets que le riz, le lait, et\nle peu de viande qu'ils avaient permettaient d'appr\u00eater.\nC'est ainsi que leur position commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 s'am\u00e9liorer, quand les trois\nd\u00e9natur\u00e9s coquins leurs compatriotes se mirent en t\u00eate de venir les\ninsulter et leur chercher noise. Ils leur dirent que l'\u00eele \u00e9tait \u00e0 eux;\nque le gouverneur,--c'\u00e9tait moi qu'ils d\u00e9signaient ainsi,--leur en avait\ndonn\u00e9 la possession, que personne qu'eux n'y avait droit; et que, de par\ntouts les diables, ils ne leur permettraient point de faire des\nconstructions sur leur terrain, \u00e0 moins d'en payer le loyer.\nLes deux hommes crurent d'abord qu'ils voulaient rire; ils les pri\u00e8rent\nde venir s'asseoir aupr\u00e8s d'eux, d'examiner les magnifiques maisons\nqu'ils avaient construites et d'en fixer eux-m\u00eames le loyer; l'un d'eux\najouta en plaisantant que s'ils \u00e9taient effectivement les propri\u00e9taires\ndu sol il esp\u00e9rait que, b\u00e2tissant sur ce terrain et y faisant des\nam\u00e9liorations, on devait, selon la coutume de touts les propri\u00e9taires,\nleur accorder un long bail, et il les engagea \u00e0 amener un notaire pour\nr\u00e9diger l'acte. Un des trois sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats se mit \u00e0 jurer, et, entrant en\nfureur, leur dit qu'il allait leur faire voir qu'ils ne riaient pas; en\nm\u00eame temps il s'approche de l'endroit o\u00f9 ces honn\u00eates gens avaient\nallum\u00e9 du feu pour cuire leurs aliments, prend un tison, l'applique sur\nla partie ext\u00e9rieure de leur hutte et y met le feu: elle aurait br\u00fbl\u00e9\ntout enti\u00e8re en quelques minutes si l'un des deux, courant \u00e0 ce coquin,\nne l'e\u00fbt chass\u00e9 et n'e\u00fbt \u00e9teint le feu avec ses pieds, sans de grandes\ndifficult\u00e9s.\nLe vaurien furieux d'\u00eatre ainsi repouss\u00e9 par cet honn\u00eate homme, s'avan\u00e7a\nsur lui avec un gros b\u00e2ton qu'il tenait \u00e0 la main; et si l'autre n'e\u00fbt\n\u00e9vit\u00e9 adroitement le coup et ne se f\u00fbt enfui dans la hutte, c'en \u00e9tait\nfait de sa vie. Son camarade voyant le danger o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient touts deux,\ncourut le rejoindre, et bient\u00f4t ils ressortirent ensemble, avec leurs\nmousquets; celui qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 frapp\u00e9 \u00e9tendit \u00e0 terre d'un coup de\ncrosse le coquin qui avait commenc\u00e9 la querelle avant que les deux\nautres pussent arriver \u00e0 son aide; puis, les voyant venir \u00e0 eux, ils\nleur pr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent le canon de leurs mousquets et leur ordonn\u00e8rent de se\ntenir \u00e0 distance.\nLes dr\u00f4les avaient aussi des armes \u00e0 feu; mais l'un des deux honn\u00eates\ngens, plus d\u00e9cid\u00e9 que son camarade et enhardi par le danger qu'ils\ncouraient, leur dit que s'ils remuaient pied ou main ils \u00e9taient touts\nmorts, et leur commanda r\u00e9solument de mettre bas les armes. Ils ne\nmirent pas bas les armes, il est vrai; mais, les voyant d\u00e9termin\u00e9s, ils\nparlement\u00e8rent et consentirent \u00e0 s'\u00e9loigner en emportant leur camarade,\nque le coup de crosse qu'il avait re\u00e7u paraissait avoir gri\u00e8vement\nbless\u00e9. Toutefois les deux honn\u00eates Anglais eurent grand tort: ils\nauraient d\u00fb profiter de leurs avantages pour d\u00e9sarmer enti\u00e8rement leurs\nadversaires comme ils le pouvaient, aller imm\u00e9diatement trouver les\nEspagnols et leur raconter comment ces sc\u00e9l\u00e9rats les avaient trait\u00e9s;\ncar ces trois mis\u00e9rables ne s'occup\u00e8rent plus que des moyens de se\nvenger, et chaque jour en fournissait quelque nouvelle preuve.\nMais je ne crois pas devoir changer cette partie de mon histoire du\nr\u00e9cit des manifestations les moins importantes de leur coquinerie,\ntelles que fouler aux pieds leurs bl\u00e9s, tuer \u00e0 coups de fusil trois\njeunes chevreaux et une ch\u00e8vre que les pauvres gens avaient apprivois\u00e9e\npour en avoir des petits. En un mot, ils les tourment\u00e8rent tellement\nnuit et jour, que les deux infortun\u00e9s, pouss\u00e9s \u00e0 bout, r\u00e9solurent de\nleur livrer bataille \u00e0 touts trois \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re occasion. \u00c0 cet effet\nils se d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent \u00e0 aller au ch\u00e2teau,--c'est ainsi qu'ils appelaient ma\nvieille habitation,--o\u00f9 vivaient \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque les trois coquins et les\nEspagnols. L\u00e0 leur intention \u00e9tait de livrer un combat dans les r\u00e8gles,\nen prenant les Espagnols pour t\u00e9moins. Ils se lev\u00e8rent donc le lendemain\nmatin avant l'aube, vinrent au ch\u00e2teau et appel\u00e8rent les Anglais par\nleurs noms, disant \u00e0 l'Espagnol, qui leur demanda ce qu'ils voulaient,\nqu'ils avaient \u00e0 parler \u00e0 leurs compatriotes.\nIl \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 que la veille deux des Espagnols, s'\u00e9tant rendus dans\nles bois, avaient rencontr\u00e9 l'un des deux Anglais que, pour les\ndistinguer, j'appelle _honn\u00eates gens_; il s'\u00e9tait plaint am\u00e8rement aux\nEspagnols des traitements barbares qu'ils avaient eu \u00e0 souffrir de leurs\ntrois compatriotes, qui avaient d\u00e9truit leur plantation, d\u00e9vast\u00e9 leur\nr\u00e9colte, qu'ils avaient eu tant de peine \u00e0 faire venir; tu\u00e9 la ch\u00e8vre et\nles trois chevreaux qui formaient toute leur subsistance. Il avait\najout\u00e9 que si lui et ses amis, \u00e0 savoir les Espagnols, ne venaient de\nnouveau \u00e0 leur aide, il ne leur resterait d'autre perspective que de\nmourir de faim. Quand les Espagnols revinrent le soir au logis, et que\ntout le monde fut \u00e0 souper, un d'entre eux prit la libert\u00e9 de bl\u00e2mer les\ntrois Anglais, bien qu'avec douceur et politesse, et leur demanda\ncomment ils pouvaient \u00eatre aussi cruels envers des gens qui ne faisaient\nde mal \u00e0 personne, qui t\u00e2chaient de subsister par leur travail, et qui\navaient d\u00fb se donner bien des peines pour amener les choses \u00e0 l'\u00e9tat de\nperfection o\u00f9 elles \u00e9taient arriv\u00e9es.\nBRIGANDAGE DES TROIS VAURIENS\nL'un des Anglais repartit brusquement:--\u00abQu'avaient-ils \u00e0 faire\nici?\u00bb--ajoutant qu'ils \u00e9taient venus \u00e0 terre sans permission, et que,\nquant \u00e0 eux, ils ne souffriraient pas qu'ils fissent de cultures ou de\nconstructions dans l'\u00eele; que le sol ne leur appartenait pas.--Mais, dit\nl'Espagnol avec beaucoup de calme, se\u00f1or ingles, ils ne doivent pas\nmourir de faim.\u00bb--L'Anglais r\u00e9pondit, comme un mal appris qu'il \u00e9tait,\nqu'ils pouvaient crever de faim et aller au diable, mais qu'ils ne\nplanteraient ni ne b\u00e2tiraient dans ce lieu.--\u00abQue faut-il donc qu'ils\nfassent, se\u00f1or? dit l'Espagnol.\u00bb--Un autre de ces rustres\nr\u00e9pondit:--\u00ab_Goddam!_ qu'ils nous servent et travaillent pour\nnous.\u00bb--\u00abMais comment pouvez-vous attendre cela d'eux? vous ne les avez\npas achet\u00e9s de vos deniers, vous n'avez pas le droit d'en faire vos\nesclaves.\u00bb--Les Anglais r\u00e9pondirent que l'\u00eele \u00e9tait \u00e0 eux, que le\ngouverneur la leur avait donn\u00e9e, et que nul autre n'y avait droit; ils\njur\u00e8rent leurs grands Dieux qu'ils iraient mettre le feu \u00e0 leurs\nnouvelles huttes, et qu'ils ne souffriraient pas qu'ils b\u00e2tissent sur\nleur territoire.\n--\u00abMais se\u00f1or, dit l'Espagnol, d'apr\u00e8s ce raisonnement, nous aussi, nous\ndevons \u00eatre vos esclaves.--\u00abOui, dit l'audacieux coquin, et vous le\nserez aussi, et nous n'en aurons pas encore fini ensemble\u00bb,--entrem\u00ealant\n\u00e0 ses paroles deux ou trois _goddam_ plac\u00e9s aux endroits convenables.\nL'Espagnol se contenta de sourire, et ne r\u00e9pondit rien. Toutefois cette\nconversation avait \u00e9chauff\u00e9 la bile des Anglais, et l'un d'eux, c'\u00e9tait,\nje crois, celui qu'ils appelaient WILL ATKINS, se leva brusquement et\ndit \u00e0 l'un de ses camarades:--\u00abViens, Jack, allons nous brosser avec\neux: je te r\u00e9ponds que nous d\u00e9molirons leurs ch\u00e2teaux; ils n'\u00e9tabliront\npas de colonies dans nos domaines.\u00bb--\nCe disant, ils sortirent ensemble, arm\u00e9s chacun d'un fusil, d'un\npistolet et d'un sabre: marmottant entre eux quelques propos insolents\nsur le traitement qu'ils infligeraient aux Espagnols quand l'occasion\ns'en pr\u00e9senterait; mais il para\u00eet que ceux-ci n'entendirent pas\nparfaitement ce qu'ils disaient; seulement ils comprirent qu'on leur\nfaisait des menaces parce qu'ils avaient pris le parti des deux Anglais.\nO\u00f9 all\u00e8rent-ils et comment pass\u00e8rent-ils leur temps ce soir-l\u00e0, les\nEspagnols me dirent n'en rien savoir; mais il para\u00eet qu'ils err\u00e8rent \u00e7\u00e0\net l\u00e0 dans le pays une partie de la nuit; puis que, s'\u00e9tant couch\u00e9s dans\nl'endroit que j'appelais ma tonnelle, ils se sentirent fatigu\u00e9s et\ns'endormirent. Au fait, voil\u00e0 ce qu'il en \u00e9tait: ils avaient r\u00e9solu\nd'attendre jusqu'\u00e0 minuit, et alors de surprendre les pauvres diables\ndans leur sommeil, et, comme plus tard ils l'avou\u00e8rent, ils avaient le\nprojet de mettre le feu \u00e0 la hutte des deux Anglais pendant qu'ils y\n\u00e9taient, de les faire p\u00e9rir dans les flammes ou de les assassiner au\nmoment o\u00f9 ils sortiraient: comme la malignit\u00e9 dort rarement d'un profond\nsommeil, il est \u00e9trange que ces gens-l\u00e0 ne soient pas rest\u00e9s \u00e9veill\u00e9s.\nToutefois comme les deux honn\u00eates gens avaient aussi sur eux des vues,\nplus honorables, il est vrai, que l'incendie et l'assassinat, il advint,\net fort heureusement pour touts, qu'ils \u00e9taient debout et sortis avant\nque les sanguinaires coquins arrivassent \u00e0 leurs huttes.\nQuand ils y furent et virent que leurs adversaires \u00e9taient partis,\nATKINS, qui, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, marchait en avant, cria \u00e0 ses\ncamarades:--\u00abHol\u00e0! Jack, voil\u00e0 bien le nid; mais, qu'ils soient damn\u00e9s!\nles oiseaux sont envol\u00e9s.\u00bb--Ils r\u00e9fl\u00e9chirent un moment \u00e0 ce qui avait pu\nles faire sortir de si bonne heure, et l'id\u00e9e leur vint que c'\u00e9taient\nles Espagnols qui les avaient pr\u00e9venus; l\u00e0-dessus ils se serr\u00e8rent la\nmain et se jur\u00e8rent mutuellement de se venger des Espagnols. Aussit\u00f4t\nqu'ils eurent fait ce pacte de sang, ils se mirent \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre sur\nl'habitation des pauvres gens. Ils ne br\u00fbl\u00e8rent rien; mais ils jet\u00e8rent\nbas les deux huttes, et en dispers\u00e8rent les d\u00e9bris, de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ne rien\nlaisser debout et \u00e0 rendre en quelque sorte m\u00e9connaissable l'emplacement\nqu'elles avaient occup\u00e9; ils mirent en pi\u00e8ces tout leur petit mobilier,\net l'\u00e9parpill\u00e8rent de telle fa\u00e7on que les pauvres gens retrouv\u00e8rent plus\ntard, \u00e0 un mille de distance de leur habitation, quelques-uns des objets\nqui leur avaient appartenu.\nCela fait, ils arrach\u00e8rent touts les jeunes arbres que ces pauvres gens\navaient plant\u00e9s, ainsi que les cl\u00f4tures qu'ils avaient \u00e9tablies pour\nmettre en s\u00fbret\u00e9 leurs bestiaux et leur grain; en un mot ils saccag\u00e8rent\net pill\u00e8rent toute chose aussi compl\u00e8tement qu'aurait pu le faire une\nhorde de Tartares.\nPendant ce temps les deux hommes \u00e9taient all\u00e9s \u00e0 leur recherche, d\u00e9cid\u00e9s\n\u00e0 les combattre partout o\u00f9 ils les trouveraient, bien que n'\u00e9tant que\ndeux contre trois: en sorte que s'ils se fussent rencontr\u00e9s il y aurait\neu certainement du sang r\u00e9pandu; car, il faut leur rendre cette justice,\nils \u00e9taient touts des gaillards solides et r\u00e9solus.\nMais la Providence mit plus de soin \u00e0 les s\u00e9parer qu'ils n'en mirent\neux-m\u00eames \u00e0 se joindre: comme s'ils s'\u00e9taient donn\u00e9 la chasse, les trois\nvauriens \u00e9taient \u00e0 peine partis que les deux honn\u00eates gens arriv\u00e8rent;\npuis quand ces deux-ci retourn\u00e8rent sur leurs pas pour aller \u00e0 leur\nrencontre, les trois autres \u00e9taient revenus \u00e0 la vieille habitation.\nNous allons voir la diff\u00e9rence de leur conduite. Quand les trois dr\u00f4les\nfurent de retour, encore furieux, et \u00e9chauff\u00e9s par l'\u0153uvre de\ndestruction qu'ils venaient d'accomplir, ils abord\u00e8rent les Espagnols\npar mani\u00e8re de bravade et comme pour les narguer, et ils leur dirent ce\nqu'ils avaient fait; l'un d'entre eux m\u00eame, s'approchant de l'un des\nEspagnols, comme un polisson qui jouerait avec un autre, lui \u00f4ta son\nchapeau de dessus la t\u00eate, et, le faisant pirouetter, lui dit en lui\nriant au nez:--\u00abEt vous aussi, se\u00f1or Jack Espagnol, nous vous mettrons \u00e0\nla m\u00eame sauce si vous ne r\u00e9formez pas vos mani\u00e8res.\u00bb--L'Espagnol, qui,\nquoique doux et pacifique, \u00e9tait aussi brave qu'un homme peut d\u00e9sirer de\nl'\u00eatre, et, d'ailleurs, fortement constitu\u00e9, le regarda fixement pendant\nquelques minutes; puis, n'ayant \u00e0 la main aucune arme, il s'approcha\ngravement de lui, et d'un coup du poing l'\u00e9tendit par terre comme un\nboucher abat un b\u0153uf; sur quoi l'un des bandits, aussi sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat que le\npremier, fit feu de son pistolet sur l'Espagnol. Il le manqua, il est\nvrai, car les balles pass\u00e8rent dans ses cheveux; mais il y en eut une\nqui lui toucha le bout de l'oreille et le fit beaucoup saigner. La vue\nde son sang fit croire \u00e0 l'Espagnol qu'il avait plus de mal qu'il n'en\navait effectivement; et il commen\u00e7a \u00e0 s'\u00e9chauffer, car jusque l\u00e0 il\navait agi avec le plus grand sang-froid; mais, d\u00e9termin\u00e9 d'en finir, il\nse baissa, et, ramassant le mousquet de celui qu'il avait \u00e9tendu par\nterre, il allait coucher en joue l'homme qui avait fait feu sur lui,\nquand le reste des Espagnols qui se trouvaient dans la grotte sortirent,\nlui cri\u00e8rent de ne pas tirer, et, s'\u00e9tant avanc\u00e9s, s'assur\u00e8rent des deux\nautres Anglais en leur arrachant leurs armes.\nQuand ils furent ainsi d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s, et lorsqu'ils se furent apper\u00e7us qu'ils\ns'\u00e9taient fait des ennemis de touts les Espagnols, comme ils s'en\n\u00e9taient fait de leurs propres compatriotes, ils commenc\u00e8rent d\u00e8s lors \u00e0\nse calmer, et, baissant le ton, demand\u00e8rent qu'on leur rendit leurs\narmes; mais les Espagnols, consid\u00e9rant l'inimiti\u00e9 qui r\u00e9gnait entre eux\net les deux autres Anglais, et pensant que ce qu'il y aurait de mieux \u00e0\nfaire serait de les s\u00e9parer les uns des autres, leur dirent qu'on ne\nleur ferait point de mal et que s'ils voulaient vivre paisiblement ils\nne demandaient pas mieux que de les aider et d'avoir des rapports avec\neux comme auparavant; mais qu'on ne pouvait penser \u00e0 leur rendre leurs\narmes lorsqu'ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9solus \u00e0 s'en servir contre leurs\ncompatriotes, et les avaient m\u00eame menac\u00e9s de faire d'eux touts des\nesclaves.\nLes coquins n'\u00e9taient pas alors plus en \u00e9tat d'entendre raison que\nd'agir raisonnablement; mais, voyant qu'on leur refusait leurs armes,\nils s'en all\u00e8rent en faisant des gestes extravagants, et comme fous de\nrage, mena\u00e7ant, bien que sans armes \u00e0 feu, de faire tout le mal en leur\npouvoir. Les Espagnols, m\u00e9prisant leurs menaces, leur dirent de se bien\ngarder de causer le moindre dommage \u00e0 leurs plantations ou \u00e0 leur\nb\u00e9tail; que s'ils s'avisaient de le faire ils les tueraient \u00e0 coups de\nfusil comme des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces partout o\u00f9 ils les trouveraient; et que\ns'ils tombaient vivants entre leurs mains, ils pouvaient \u00eatre s\u00fbrs\nd'\u00eatre pendus. Il s'en fallut toutefois que cela les calm\u00e2t, et ils\ns'\u00e9loign\u00e8rent en jurant et sacrant comme des \u00e9chapp\u00e9s de l'enfer.\nAussit\u00f4t qu'ils furent partis, vinrent les deux autres, enflamm\u00e9s d'une\ncol\u00e8re et poss\u00e9d\u00e9s d'une rage aussi grandes, quoique d'une autre nature:\nce n'\u00e9tait pas sans motif, car, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 leur plantation, ils\nl'avaient trouv\u00e9e toute d\u00e9molie et d\u00e9truite; \u00e0 peine eurent-ils articul\u00e9\nleurs griefs, que les Espagnols leur dirent les leurs, et touts\ns'\u00e9tonn\u00e8rent que trois hommes en bravassent ainsi dix-neuf impun\u00e9ment.\nLes Espagnols les m\u00e9prisaient, et, apr\u00e8s les avoir ainsi d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s,\nfirent peu de cas de leurs menaces; mais les deux Anglais r\u00e9solurent de\nse venger, quoi qu'il p\u00fbt leur en co\u00fbter pour les trouver.\nIci les Espagnols s'interpos\u00e8rent \u00e9galement, et leur dirent que leurs\nadversaires \u00e9tant d\u00e9j\u00e0 d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s, ils ne pouvaient consentir \u00e0 ce qu'ils\nles attaquassent avec des armes \u00e0 feu et les tuassent peut-\u00eatre.--\u00abMais,\ndit le grave Espagnol qui \u00e9tait leur gouverneur, nous ferons en sorte de\nvous faire rendre justice si vous voulez vous en rapporter \u00e0 nous; il\nn'est pas douteux que lorsque leur col\u00e8re sera appais\u00e9e ils reviendront\nvers nous, incapables qu'ils sont de subsister sans notre aide; nous\nvous promettons alors de ne faire avec eux ni paix ni tr\u00eave qu'ils ne\nvous aient donn\u00e9 pleine satisfaction; \u00e0 cette condition, nous esp\u00e9rons\nque vous nous promettrez de votre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de ne point user de violence \u00e0\nleur \u00e9gard, si ce n'est dans le cas de l\u00e9gitime d\u00e9fense.\nLes deux Anglais c\u00e9d\u00e8rent \u00e0 cette invitation de mauvaise gr\u00e2ce et avec\nbeaucoup de r\u00e9pugnance; mais les Espagnols protest\u00e8rent qu'en agissant\nainsi ils n'avaient d'autre but que d'emp\u00eacher l'effusion du sang, et de\nr\u00e9tablir l'harmonie parmi eux:--\u00abNous sommes bien peu nombreux ici,\ndirent-ils, il y a place pour nous touts, et il serait dommage que nous\nne fussions pas touts bons amis.\u00bb--\u00c0 la fin les Anglais consentirent, et\nen attendant le r\u00e9sultat, demeur\u00e8rent quelques jours avec les Espagnols,\nleur propre habitation \u00e9tant d\u00e9truite.\nAu bout d'environ trois jours les trois exil\u00e9s, fatigu\u00e9s d'errer \u00e7\u00e0 et\nl\u00e0 et mourant presque de faim,--car ils n'avaient gu\u00e8re v\u00e9cu dans cet\nintervalle que d'\u0153ufs de tortues,--retourn\u00e8rent au bocage. Ayant trouv\u00e9\nmon Espagnol qui, comme je l'ai dit, \u00e9tait le gouverneur, se promenant\navec deux autres sur le rivage, ils l'abord\u00e8rent d'un air humble et\nsoumis, et demand\u00e8rent en gr\u00e2ce d'\u00eatre de nouveau admis dans la famille.\nLes Espagnols les accueillirent avec politesse; mais leur d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent\nqu'ils avaient agi d'une mani\u00e8re si d\u00e9natur\u00e9e envers les Anglais leurs\ncompatriotes, et d'une fa\u00e7on si incivile envers eux,--les Espagnols--,\nqu'ils ne pouvaient rien conclure sans avoir pr\u00e9alablement consult\u00e9 les\ndeux Anglais et le reste de la troupe; qu'ils allaient les trouver, leur\nen parler, et que dans une demi-heure ils leur feraient conna\u00eetre le\nr\u00e9sultat de leur d\u00e9marche. Il fallait que les trois coupables fussent\nr\u00e9duits \u00e0 une bien rude extr\u00e9mit\u00e9, puisque, oblig\u00e9s d'attendre la\nr\u00e9ponse pendant une demi-heure, ils demand\u00e8rent qu'on voul\u00fbt bien dans\ncet intervalle leur faire donner du pain; ce qui fut fait: on y ajouta\nm\u00eame un gros morceau du chevreau et un perroquet bouilli, qu'ils\nmang\u00e8rent de bon app\u00e9tit, car ils \u00e9taient mourants de faim.\nSOUMISSION DES TROIS VAURIENS\nApr\u00e8s avoir tenu conseil une demi-heure, on les fit entrer, et il\ns'engagea \u00e0 leur sujet un long d\u00e9bat: leurs deux compatriotes les\naccus\u00e8rent d'avoir an\u00e9anti le fruit de leur travail et form\u00e9 le dessein\nde les assassiner: toutes choses qu'ils avaient avou\u00e9es auparavant et\nque par cons\u00e9quent ils ne pouvaient nier actuellement; alors les\nEspagnols intervinrent comme mod\u00e9rateurs; et, de m\u00eame qu'ils avaient\noblig\u00e9 les deux Anglais \u00e0 ne point faire de mal aux trois autres pendant\nque ceux-ci \u00e9taient nus et d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s, de m\u00eame maintenant ils oblig\u00e8rent\nces derniers \u00e0 aller reb\u00e2tir \u00e0 leurs compatriotes deux huttes, l'une\ndevant \u00eatre de la m\u00eame dimension, et l'autre plus vaste que les\npremi\u00e8res; comme aussi \u00e0 r\u00e9tablir les cl\u00f4tures qu'ils avaient arrach\u00e9es,\n\u00e0 planter des arbres \u00e0 la place de ceux qu'ils avaient d\u00e9racin\u00e9s, \u00e0\nb\u00eacher le sol pour y semer du bl\u00e9 l\u00e0 o\u00f9 ils avaient endommag\u00e9 la\nculture; en un mot, \u00e0 r\u00e9tablir toutes choses en l'\u00e9tat o\u00f9 ils les\navaient trouv\u00e9es, autant du moins que cela se pouvait; car ce n'\u00e9tait\npas compl\u00e8tement possible: on ne pouvait r\u00e9parer le temps perdu dans la\nsaison du bl\u00e9, non plus que rendre les arbres et les haies ce qu'ils\n\u00e9taient.\nIls se soumirent \u00e0 toutes ces conditions; et, comme pendant ce temps on\nleur fournit des provisions en abondance, ils devinrent tr\u00e8s-paisibles,\net la bonne intelligence r\u00e9gna de nouveau dans la soci\u00e9t\u00e9; seulement on\nne put jamais obtenir de ces trois hommes de travailler pour eux-m\u00eames,\nsi ce n'est un peu par ci, par l\u00e0, et selon leur caprice. Toutefois les\nEspagnols leur dirent franchement que, pourvu qu'ils consentissent \u00e0\nvivre avec eux d'une mani\u00e8re sociable et amicale, et \u00e0 prendre en\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ral le bien de la plantation \u00e0 c\u0153ur, on travaillerait pour eux, en\nsorte qu'ils pourraient se promener et \u00eatre oisifs tout \u00e0 leur aise.\nAyant donc v\u00e9cu en paix pendant un mois ou deux, les Espagnols leur\nrendirent leurs armes, et leur donn\u00e8rent la permission de les porter\ndans leurs excursions comme par le pass\u00e9.\nUne semaine s'\u00e9tait \u00e0 peine \u00e9coul\u00e9e depuis qu'ils avaient repris\npossession de leurs armes et recommenc\u00e9 leurs courses, que ces hommes\ningrats se montr\u00e8rent aussi insolents et aussi peu supportables\nqu'auparavant; mais sur ces entrefaites un incident survint qui mit en\np\u00e9ril la vie de tout le monde, et qui les for\u00e7a de d\u00e9poser tout\nressentiment particulier, pour ne songer qu'\u00e0 la conservation de leur\nvie.\nIl arriva une nuit que le gouverneur espagnol, comme je l'appelle,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire l'Espagnol \u00e0 qui j'avais sauv\u00e9 la vie, et qui \u00e9tait\nmaintenant le capitaine, le chef ou le gouverneur de la colonie, se\ntrouva tourment\u00e9 d'insomnie et dans l'impossibilit\u00e9 de fermer l'\u0153il: il\nse portait parfaitement bien de corps, comme il me le dit par la suite\nen me contant cette histoire; seulement ses pens\u00e9es se succ\u00e9daient\ntumultueusement, son esprit n'\u00e9tait plein que d'hommes combattant et se\ntuant les uns les autres; cependant il \u00e9tait tout-\u00e0-fait \u00e9veill\u00e9 et ne\npouvait avoir un moment de sommeil. Il resta long-temps couch\u00e9 dans cet\n\u00e9tat; mais, se sentant de plus en plus agit\u00e9, il r\u00e9solut de se lever.\nComme ils \u00e9taient en grand nombre, ils ne couchaient pas dans des hamacs\ncomme moi, qui \u00e9tais seul, mais sur des peaux de ch\u00e8vres \u00e9tendues sur\ndes esp\u00e8ces de lits et de paillasses qu'ils s'\u00e9taient faits; en sorte\nque quand ils voulaient se lever ils n'avaient qu'\u00e0 se mettre sur leurs\njambes, \u00e0 passer un habit et \u00e0 chausser leurs souliers, et ils \u00e9taient\npr\u00eats \u00e0 aller o\u00f9 bon leur semblait.\nS'\u00e9tant donc ainsi lev\u00e9, il jeta un coup d'\u0153il dehors; mais il faisait\nnuit et il ne put rien ou presque rien voir; d'ailleurs les arbres que\nj'avais plant\u00e9s, comme je l'ai dit dans mon premier r\u00e9cit, ayant pouss\u00e9\n\u00e0 une grande hauteur, interceptaient sa vue; en sorte que tout ce qu'il\np\u00fbt voir en levant les yeux, fut un ciel clair et \u00e9toil\u00e9. N'entendant\naucun bruit, il revint sur ses pas et se recoucha; mais ce fut\ninutilement: il ne put dormir ni go\u00fbter un instant de repos; ses pens\u00e9es\ncontinuaient \u00e0 \u00eatre agit\u00e9es et inqui\u00e8tes sans qu'il s\u00fbt pourquoi.\nAyant fait quelque bruit en se levant et en allant et venant, l'un de\nses compagnons s'\u00e9veilla et demanda quel \u00e9tait celui qui se levait. Le\ngouverneur lui dit ce qu'il \u00e9prouvait.--\u00abVraiment! dit l'autre espagnol,\nces choses l\u00e0 m\u00e9ritent qu'on s'y arr\u00eate, je vous assure: il se pr\u00e9pare\nen ce moment quelque chose contre nous, j'en ai la certitude\u00bb;--et\nsur-le champ il lui demanda o\u00f9 \u00e9taient les Anglais.--\u00abIls sont dans\nleurs huttes, dit-il, tout est en s\u00fbret\u00e9 de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9-l\u00e0.\u00bb--Il para\u00eet que\nles Espagnols avaient pris possession du logement principal, et avaient\npr\u00e9par\u00e9 un endroit o\u00f9 les trois Anglais, depuis leur derni\u00e8re mutinerie,\n\u00e9taient toujours rel\u00e9gu\u00e9s sans qu'ils pussent communiquer avec les\nautres.--\u00abOui, dit l'Espagnol, il doit y avoir quelque chose l\u00e0-dessous,\nma propre exp\u00e9rience me l'assure. Je suis convaincu que nos \u00e2mes, dans\nleur enveloppe charnelle, communiquent avec les esprits incorporels,\nhabitants du monde invisible et en re\u00e7oivent des clart\u00e9s. Cet\navertissement, ami, nous est sans doute donn\u00e9 pour notre bien si nous\nsavons le mettre \u00e0 profit. Venez, dit-il, sortons et voyons ce qui se\npasse; et si nous ne trouvons rien qui justifie notre inqui\u00e9tude, je\nvous conterai \u00e0 ce sujet une histoire qui vous convaincra de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9\nde ce que je vous dis.\u00bb\nEn un mot, ils sortirent pour se rendre au sommet de la colline o\u00f9\nj'avais coutume d'aller; mais, \u00e9tant en force et en bonne compagnie, ils\nn'employ\u00e8rent pas la pr\u00e9caution que je prenais, moi qui \u00e9tais tout seul,\nde monter au moyen de l'\u00e9chelle, que je tirais apr\u00e8s moi, et repla\u00e7ais\nune seconde fois pour gagner le sommet; mais ils travers\u00e8rent le bocage\nsans pr\u00e9caution et librement, lorsque tout-\u00e0-coup ils furent surpris de\nvoir \u00e0 tr\u00e8s-peu de distance la lumi\u00e8re d'un feu et d'entendre, non pas\nune voix ou deux, mais les voix d'un grand nombre d'hommes.\nToutes les fois que j'avais d\u00e9couvert des d\u00e9barquements de Sauvages dans\nl'\u00eele, j'avais constamment fait en sorte qu'on ne p\u00fbt avoir le moindre\nindice que le lieu \u00e9tait habit\u00e9; lorsque les \u00e9v\u00e9nements le leur\napprirent, ce fut d'une mani\u00e8re si efficace, que c'est tout au plus si\nceux qui se sauv\u00e8rent purent dire ce qu'ils avaient vu, car nous\ndispar\u00fbmes aussit\u00f4t que possible, et aucun de ceux qui m'avaient vu ne\ns'\u00e9chappa pour le dire \u00e0 d'autres, except\u00e9 les trois Sauvages qui, lors\nde notre derni\u00e8re rencontre, saut\u00e8rent dans la pirogue, et qui, comme je\nl'ai dit, m'avaient fait craindre qu'ils ne retournassent aupr\u00e8s de\nleurs compatriotes et n'amenassent du renfort.\n\u00c9tait-ce ce qu'avaient pu dire ces trois hommes qui en amenait\nmaintenant un aussi grand nombre, ou bien \u00e9tait-ce le hasard seul ou\nl'un de leurs festins sanglants, c'est ce que les Espagnols ne purent\ncomprendre, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet; mais, quoi qu'il en f\u00fbt, il aurait mieux\nvalu pour eux qu'ils se fussent tenus cach\u00e9s et qu'ils n'eussent pas vu\nles Sauvages, que de laisser conna\u00eetre \u00e0 ceux-ci que l'\u00eele \u00e9tait\nhabit\u00e9e. Dans ce dernier cas, il fallait tomber sur eux avec vigueur, de\nmani\u00e8re \u00e0 n'en pas laisser \u00e9chapper un seul; ce qui ne pouvait se faire\nqu'en se pla\u00e7ant entre eux et leurs canots: mais la pr\u00e9sence d'esprit\nleur manqua, ce qui d\u00e9truisit pour long-temps leur tranquillit\u00e9.\nNous ne devons pas douter que le gouverneur et celui qui l'accompagnait,\nsurpris \u00e0 cette vue, ne soient retourn\u00e9s pr\u00e9cipitamment sur leurs pas et\nn'aient donn\u00e9 l'alarme \u00e0 leurs compagnons, en leur faisant part du\ndanger imminent dans lequel ils \u00e9taient touts. La frayeur fut grande en\neffet; mais il fut impossible de les faire rester o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient: touts\nvoulurent sortir pour juger par eux-m\u00eames de l'\u00e9tat des choses.\nTant qu'il fit nuit, ils purent pendant plusieurs heures les examiner\ntout \u00e0 leur aise \u00e0 la lueur de trois feux qu'ils avaient allum\u00e9s \u00e0\nquelque distance l'un de l'autre: ils ne savaient ce que faisaient les\nSauvages, ni ce qu'ils devaient faire eux-m\u00eames; car d'abord les ennemis\n\u00e9taient trop nombreux, ensuite ils n'\u00e9taient point r\u00e9unis, mais s\u00e9par\u00e9s\nen plusieurs groupes, et occupaient divers endroits du rivage.\nLes Espagnols \u00e0 cet aspect furent dans une grande consternation; les\nvoyant parcourir le rivage dans touts les sens, ils ne dout\u00e8rent pas que\nt\u00f4t ou tard quelques-uns d'entre eux ne d\u00e9couvrissent leur habitation ou\nquelque autre lieu o\u00f9 ils trouveraient des vestiges d'habitants; ils\n\u00e9prouv\u00e8rent aussi une grande inqui\u00e9tude \u00e0 l'\u00e9gard de leurs troupeaux de\nch\u00e8vres, car leur destruction les e\u00fbt r\u00e9duits presque \u00e0 la famine. La\npremi\u00e8re chose qu'ils firent donc fut de d\u00e9p\u00eacher trois hommes, deux\nEspagnols et un Anglais, avant qu'il f\u00fbt jour, pour emmener toutes les\nch\u00e8vres dans la grande vall\u00e9e o\u00f9 \u00e9tait situ\u00e9e la caverne, et pour les\ncacher, si cela \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire, dans la caverne m\u00eame. Ils \u00e9taient\nr\u00e9solus \u00e0 attaquer les Sauvages, fussent-ils cent, s'ils les voyaient\nr\u00e9unis touts ensemble et \u00e0 quelque distance de leurs canots; mais cela\nn'\u00e9tait pas possible: car ils \u00e9taient divis\u00e9s en deux troupes \u00e9loign\u00e9es\nde deux milles l'une de l'autre, et, comme on le sut plus tard, il y\navait l\u00e0 deux nations diff\u00e9rentes.\nApr\u00e8s avoir long-temps r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi sur ce qu'ils avaient \u00e0 faire et s'\u00eatre\nfatigu\u00e9 le cerveau \u00e0 examiner leur position actuelle, ils r\u00e9solurent\nenfin d'envoyer comme espion, pendant qu'il faisait nuit, le vieux\nSauvage, p\u00e8re de VENDREDI, afin de d\u00e9couvrir, si cela \u00e9tait possible,\nquelque chose touchant ces gens, par exemple d'o\u00f9 ils venaient, ce\nqu'ils se proposaient de faire. Le vieillard y consentit volontiers, et,\ns'\u00e9tant mis tout nu, comme \u00e9taient la plupart des Sauvages, il partit.\nApr\u00e8s une heure ou deux d'absence, il revint et rapporta qu'il avait\np\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 au milieu d'eux sans avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9couvert, il avait appris que\nc'\u00e9taient deux exp\u00e9ditions s\u00e9par\u00e9es et deux nations diff\u00e9rentes en\nguerre l'une contre l'autre; elles s'\u00e9taient livr\u00e9 une grande bataille\ndans leur pays, et, un certain nombre de prisonniers ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 faits de\npart et d'autre dans le combat, ils \u00e9taient par hasard d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s dans la\nm\u00eame \u00eele pour manger leurs prisonniers et se r\u00e9jouir; mais la\ncirconstance de leur arriv\u00e9e dans le m\u00eame lieu avait troubl\u00e9 toute leur\njoie. Ils \u00e9taient furieux les uns contre les autres et si rapproch\u00e9s\nqu'on devait s'attendre \u00e0 les voir combattre aussit\u00f4t que le jour\npara\u00eetrait. Il ne s'\u00e9tait pas apper\u00e7u qu'ils soup\u00e7onnassent que d'autres\nhommes fussent dans l'\u00eele. Il avait \u00e0 peine achev\u00e9 son r\u00e9cit qu'un grand\nbruit annon\u00e7a que les deux petites arm\u00e9es se livraient un combat\nsanglant.\nLe p\u00e8re de VENDREDI fit tout ce qu'il put pour engager nos gens \u00e0 se\ntenir clos et \u00e0 ne pas se montrer; il leur dit que leur salut en\nd\u00e9pendait, qu'ils n'avaient d'autre chose \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 rester\ntranquilles, que les Sauvages se tueraient les uns les autres et que les\nsurvivants, s'il y en avait, s'en iraient; c'est ce qui arriva; mais il\nfut impossible d'obtenir cela, surtout des Anglais: la curiosit\u00e9\nl'emporta tellement en eux sur la prudence, qu'ils voulurent absolument\nsortir et \u00eatre t\u00e9moins de la bataille; toutefois ils us\u00e8rent de quelque\npr\u00e9caution, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'au lieu de marcher \u00e0 d\u00e9couvert dans le\nvoisinage de leur habitation, ils s'enfonc\u00e8rent plus avant dans les\nbois, et se plac\u00e8rent dans une position avantageuse d'o\u00f9 ils pouvaient\nvoir en s\u00fbret\u00e9 le combat sans \u00eatre d\u00e9couverts, du moins ils le\npensaient; mais il para\u00eet que les Sauvages les apper\u00e7urent, comme on\nverra plus tard.\nLe combat fut acharn\u00e9, et, si je puis en croire les Anglais,\nquelques-uns des combattants avaient paru \u00e0 l'un des leurs des hommes\nd'une grande bravoure et dou\u00e9s d'une \u00e9nergie invincible, et semblaient\nmettre beaucoup d'art dans la direction de la bataille. La lutte,\ndirent-ils, dura deux heures avant qu'on p\u00fbt deviner \u00e0 qui resterait\nl'avantage; mais alors le parti le plus rapproch\u00e9 de l'habitation de nos\ngens commen\u00e7a \u00e0 ployer, et bient\u00f4t quelques-uns prirent la fuite. Ceci\nmit de nouveau les n\u00f4tres dans une grande consternation; ils craignirent\nque les fuyards n'allassent chercher un abri dans le bocage qui masquait\nleur habitation, et ne la d\u00e9couvrissent, et que, par cons\u00e9quent, ceux\nqui les poursuivaient ne vinssent \u00e0 faire la m\u00eame d\u00e9couverte. Sur ce,\nils r\u00e9solurent de se tenir arm\u00e9s dans l'enceinte des retranchements, et\nsi quelques Sauvages p\u00e9n\u00e9traient dans le bocage, de faire une sortie et\nde les tuer, afin de n'en laisser \u00e9chapper aucun si cela \u00e9tait possible:\nils d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent aussi que ce serait \u00e0 coups de sabre ou de crosse de\nfusil qu'on les tuerait, et non en faisant feu sur eux, de peur que le\nbruit ne donn\u00e2t l'alarme.\nPRISE DES TROIS FUYARDS\nLa chose arriva comme ils l'avaient pr\u00e9vu: trois hommes de l'arm\u00e9e en\nd\u00e9route cherch\u00e8rent leur salut dans la fuite; et, apr\u00e8s avoir travers\u00e9\nla crique, ils coururent droit au bocage, ne soup\u00e7onnant pas le moins du\nmonde o\u00f9 ils allaient, mais croyant se r\u00e9fugier dans l'\u00e9paisseur d'un\nbois. La vedette post\u00e9e pour faire le guet en donna avis \u00e0 ceux de\nl'int\u00e9rieur, en ajoutant, \u00e0 la satisfaction de nos gens, que les\nvainqueurs ne poursuivaient pas les fuyards et n'avaient pas vu la\ndirection qu'ils avaient prise. Sur quoi le gouverneur espagnol, qui\n\u00e9tait plein d'humanit\u00e9, ne voulut pas permettre qu'on tu\u00e2t les trois\nfugitifs; mais, exp\u00e9diant trois hommes par le haut de la colline, il\nleur ordonna de la tourner, de les prendre \u00e0 revers et de les faire\nprisonniers; ce qui fut ex\u00e9cut\u00e9. Les d\u00e9bris de l'arm\u00e9e vaincue se\njet\u00e8rent dans les canots et gagn\u00e8rent la haute mer. Les vainqueurs se\nretir\u00e8rent et les poursuivirent peu ou point, mais, se r\u00e9unissant touts\nen un seul groupe, ils pouss\u00e8rent deux grands cris, qu'on supposa \u00eatre\ndes cris de triomphe: c'est ainsi que se termina le combat. Le m\u00eame\njour, sur les trois heures de l'apr\u00e8s-midi, ils se rendirent \u00e0 leurs\ncanots. Et alors les Espagnols se retrouv\u00e8rent paisibles possesseurs de\nl'\u00eele, leur effroi se dissipa, et pendant plusieurs ann\u00e9es ils ne\nrevirent aucun Sauvage.\nLorsqu'ils furent touts partis, les Espagnols sortirent de leur grotte,\net, parcourant le champ de bataille, trouv\u00e8rent environ trente-deux\nmorts sur la place. Quelques-uns avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s avec de grandes et\nlongues fl\u00e8ches, et ils en virent plusieurs dans le corps desquels elles\n\u00e9taient rest\u00e9es plong\u00e9es; mais la plupart avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s avec de\ngrands sabres de bois, dont seize ou dix-sept furent trouv\u00e9s sur le\nlieu du combat, avec un nombre \u00e9gal d'arcs et une grande quantit\u00e9 de\nfl\u00e8ches. Ces sabres \u00e9taient de grosses et lourdes choses difficiles \u00e0\nmanier, et les hommes qui s'en servaient devaient \u00eatre extr\u00eamement\nforts. La majeure partie de ceux qui \u00e9taient tu\u00e9s ainsi avaient la t\u00eate\nmise en pi\u00e8ces, ou, comme nous disons en Angleterre, _brains knocked\nout_,--la cervelle hors du cr\u00e2ne,--et en outre les jambes et les bras\ncass\u00e9s; ce qui attestait qu'ils avaient combattu avec une furie et une\nrage inexprimables. Touts les hommes qu'on trouva l\u00e0 gisants \u00e9taient\ntout-\u00e0-fait morts; car ces barbares ne quittent leur ennemi qu'apr\u00e8s\nl'avoir enti\u00e8rement tu\u00e9, ou emportent avec eux touts ceux qui tomb\u00e9s\nsous leurs coups ont encore un souffle de vie.\nLe danger auquel on venait d'\u00e9chapper apprivoisa pour long-temps les\ntrois anglais. Ce spectacle les avait remplis d'horreur, et ils ne\npouvaient penser sans un sentiment d'effroi qu'un jour ou l'autre ils\ntomberaient peut-\u00eatre entre les mains de ces barbares, qui les tueraient\nnon-seulement comme ennemis, mais encore pour s'en nourrir comme nous\nfaisons de nos bestiaux. Et ils m'ont avou\u00e9 que cette id\u00e9e d'\u00eatre mang\u00e9s\ncomme du b\u0153uf ou du mouton, bien que cela ne d\u00fbt arriver qu'apr\u00e8s leur\nmort, avait eu pour eux quelque chose de si horrible en soi qu'elle leur\nsoulevait le c\u0153ur et les rendait malades, et qu'elle leur avait rempli\nl'esprit de terreurs si \u00e9tranges qu'ils furent tout autres pendant\nquelques semaines.\nCeci, comme je le disais, eut pour effet m\u00eame d'apprivoiser nos trois\nbrutaux d'Anglais, dont je vous ai entretenu. Ils furent long-temps fort\ntraitables, et prirent assez d'int\u00e9r\u00eat au bien commun de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9; ils\nplantaient, semaient, r\u00e9coltaient et commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 se faire au pays.\nMais bient\u00f4t un nouvel attentat leur suscita une foule de peines.\nIls avaient fait trois prisonniers, ainsi que je l'ai consign\u00e9, et comme\nils \u00e9taient touts trois jeunes, courageux et robustes, ils en firent des\nserviteurs, qui apprirent \u00e0 travailler pour eux, et se montr\u00e8rent assez\nbons esclaves. Mais leurs ma\u00eetres n'agirent pas \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard comme\nj'avais fait envers VENDREDI: ils ne crurent pas, apr\u00e8s leur avoir sauv\u00e9\nla vie, qu'il f\u00fbt de leur devoir de leur inculquer de sages principes de\nmorale, de religion, de les civiliser et de se les acqu\u00e9rir par de bons\ntraitements et des raisonnements affectueux. De m\u00eame qu'ils leur\ndonnaient leur nourriture chaque jour, chaque jour ils leur imposaient\nune besogne, et les occupaient totalement \u00e0 de vils travaux: aussi\nmanqu\u00e8rent-ils en cela, car ils ne les eurent jamais pour les assister\net pour combattre, comme j'avais eu mon serviteur VENDREDI, qui m'\u00e9tait\naussi attach\u00e9 que ma chair \u00e0 mes os.\nMais revenons \u00e0 nos affaires domestiques. \u00c9tant alors touts bons\namis,--car le danger commun, comme je l'ai dit plus haut, les avait\nparfaitement r\u00e9concili\u00e9s,--ils se mirent \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer leur situation en\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ral. La premi\u00e8re chose qu'ils firent ce fut d'examiner si, voyant\nque les Sauvages fr\u00e9quentaient particuli\u00e8rement le c\u00f4t\u00e9 o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient,\net l'\u00eele leur offrant plus loin des lieux plus retir\u00e9s, \u00e9galement\npropres \u00e0 leur mani\u00e8re de vivre et \u00e9videmment plus avantageux, il ne\nserait pas convenable de transporter leur habitation et de se fixer dans\nquelque endroit o\u00f9 ils trouveraient plus de s\u00e9curit\u00e9 pour eux, et\nsurtout plus de s\u00fbret\u00e9 pour leurs troupeaux et leur grain.\nEnfin, apr\u00e8s une longue discussion, ils convinrent qu'ils n'iraient pas\nhabiter ailleurs; vu qu'un jour ou l'autre il pourrait leur arriver des\nnouvelles de leur gouverneur, c'est-\u00e0-dire de moi, et que si j'envoyais\nquelqu'un \u00e0 leur recherche, ce serait certainement dans cette partie de\nl'\u00eele; que l\u00e0, trouvant la place ras\u00e9e, on en conclurait que les\nhabitants avaient touts \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s par les Sauvages, et qu'ils \u00e9taient\npartis pour l'autre monde, et qu'alors le secours partirait aussi.\nMais, quant \u00e0 leur grain et \u00e0 leur b\u00e9tail, ils r\u00e9solurent de les\ntransporter dans la vall\u00e9e o\u00f9 \u00e9tait ma caverne, le sol y \u00e9tant dans une\n\u00e9tendue suffisante, \u00e9galement propre \u00e0 l'un et \u00e0 l'autre. Toutefois,\napr\u00e8s une seconde r\u00e9flexion, ils modifi\u00e8rent cette r\u00e9solution; ils se\nd\u00e9cid\u00e8rent \u00e0 ne parquer dans ce lieu qu'une partie de leurs bestiaux, et\n\u00e0 n'y semer qu'une portion de leur grain, afin que si une partie \u00e9tait\nd\u00e9truite l'autre p\u00fbt \u00eatre sauv\u00e9e. Ils adopt\u00e8rent encore une autre mesure\nde prudence, et ils firent bien; ce fut de ne point laisser conna\u00eetre\naux trois Sauvages leurs prisonniers qu'ils avaient des cultures et des\nbestiaux dans la vall\u00e9e, et encore moins qu'il s'y trouvait une caverne\nqu'ils regardaient comme une retraite s\u00fbre en cas de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9. C'est l\u00e0\nqu'ils transport\u00e8rent les deux barils de poudre que je leur avais\nabandonn\u00e9s lors de mon d\u00e9part.\nR\u00e9solus de ne pas changer de demeure, et reconnaissant l'utilit\u00e9 des\nsoins que j'avais pris \u00e0 masquer mon habitation par une muraille ou\nfortification et par un bocage, bien convaincus de cette v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que leur\nsalut d\u00e9pendait du secret de leur retraite, ils se mirent \u00e0 l'ouvrage\nafin de fortifier et cacher ce lieu encore plus qu'auparavant. \u00c0 cet\neffet j'avais plant\u00e9 des arbres--ou plut\u00f4t enfonc\u00e9 des pieux qui avec le\ntemps \u00e9taient devenus des arbres.--Dans un assez grand espace, devant\nl'entr\u00e9e de mon logement, ils remplirent, suivant la m\u00eame m\u00e9thode, tout\nle reste du terrain depuis ces arbres jusqu'au bord de la crique, o\u00f9,\ncomme je l'ai dit, je prenais terre avec mes radeaux, et m\u00eame jusqu'au\nsol vaseux que couvrait le flot de la mar\u00e9e, ne laissant aucun endroit\no\u00f9 l'on p\u00fbt d\u00e9barquer ni rien qui indiqu\u00e2t qu'un d\u00e9barquement f\u00fbt\npossible aux alentours. Ces pieux, comme autrefois je le mentionnai,\n\u00e9taient d'un bois d'une prompte v\u00e9g\u00e9tation; ils eurent soin de les\nchoisir g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement beaucoup plus forts et beaucoup plus grands que\nceux que j'avais plant\u00e9s, et de les placer si drus et si serr\u00e9s, qu'au\nbout du trois ou quatre ans il \u00e9tait devenu impossible \u00e0 l'\u0153il de\nplonger tr\u00e8s-avant dans la plantation. Quant aux arbres que j'avais\nplant\u00e9s, ils \u00e9taient devenus gros comme la jambe d'un homme. Ils en\nplac\u00e8rent dans les intervalles un grand nombre de plus petits si\nrapproch\u00e9s qu'ils formaient comme une palissade \u00e9paisse d'un quart de\nmille, o\u00f9 l'on n'e\u00fbt pu p\u00e9n\u00e9trer qu'avec une petite arm\u00e9e pour les\nabattre touts; car un petit chien aurait eu de la peine \u00e0 passer entre\nles arbres, tant ils \u00e9taient serr\u00e9s.\nMais ce n'est pas tout, ils en firent de m\u00eame sur le terrain \u00e0 droite et\n\u00e0 gauche, et tout autour de la colline jusqu'\u00e0 son sommet, sans laisser\nla moindre issue par laquelle ils pussent eux-m\u00eames sortir, si ce n'est\nau moyen de l'\u00e9chelle qu'on appuyait contre le flanc de la colline, et\nqu'on repla\u00e7ait ensuite pour gagner la cime; une fois cette \u00e9chelle\nenlev\u00e9e, il aurait fallu avoir des ailes ou des sortil\u00e8ges pour parvenir\njusqu'\u00e0 eux.\nCela \u00e9tait fort bien imagin\u00e9, et plus tard ils eurent occasion de s'en\napplaudir; ce qui a servi \u00e0 me convaincre que comme la prudence humaine\nest justifi\u00e9e par l'autorit\u00e9 de la Providence, c'est la Providence qui\nla met \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre; et si nous \u00e9coutions religieusement sa voix, je suis\npleinement persuad\u00e9 que nous \u00e9viterions un grand nombre d'adversit\u00e9s\nauxquelles, par notre propre n\u00e9gligence notre vie est expos\u00e9e. Mais ceci\nsoit dit en passant.\nJe reprends le fil de mon histoire. Depuis cette \u00e9poque ils v\u00e9curent\ndeux ann\u00e9es dans un calme parfait, sans recevoir de nouvelles visites\ndes Sauvages. Il est vrai qu'un matin ils eurent une alerte qui les jeta\ndans une grande consternation. Quelques-uns des Espagnols \u00e9tant all\u00e9s au\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 occidental, ou plut\u00f4t \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 de l'\u00eele, dans cette partie\nque, de peur d'\u00eatre d\u00e9couvert, je ne hantais jamais, ils furent surpris\nde voir plus de vingt canots d'indiens qui se dirigeaient vers le\nrivage.\n\u00c9pouvant\u00e9s, ils revinrent \u00e0 l'habitation en toute h\u00e2te donner l'alarme \u00e0\nleurs compagnons, qui se tinrent clos tout ce jour-l\u00e0 et le jour\nsuivant, ne sortant que de nuit pour aller en observation. Ils eurent le\nbonheur de s'\u00eatre tromp\u00e9s dans leur appr\u00e9hension; car, quel que f\u00fbt le\nbut des Sauvages, ils ne d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent pas cette fois-l\u00e0 dans l'\u00eele, mais\npoursuivirent quelqu'autre projet.\nIl s'\u00e9leva vers ce temps-l\u00e0 une nouvelle querelle avec les trois\nAnglais. Un de ces derniers, le plus turbulent, furieux contre un des\ntrois esclaves qu'ils avaient faits prisonniers, parce qu'il n'ex\u00e9cutait\npas exactement quelque chose qu'il lui avait ordonn\u00e9 et se montrait peu\ndocile \u00e0 ses instructions, tira de son ceinturon la hachette qu'il\nportait \u00e0 son c\u00f4t\u00e9, et s'\u00e9lan\u00e7a sur le pauvre Sauvage, non pour le\ncorriger, mais pour le tuer. Un des Espagnols, qui \u00e9tait pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0, le\nvoyant porter \u00e0 ce malheureux, \u00e0 dessein de lui fendre la t\u00eate, un rude\ncoup de hachette qui entra fort avant dans l'\u00e9paule, crut que la pauvre\ncr\u00e9ature avait le bras coup\u00e9, courut \u00e0 lui, et, le suppliant de ne pas\ntuer ce malheureux, se jeta entre lui et le Sauvage pour pr\u00e9venir le\ncrime.\nCe coquin, devenu plus furieux encore, leva sa hachette contre\nl'Espagnol, et jura qu'il le traiterait comme il avait voulu traiter le\nSauvage. L'Espagnol, voyant venir le coup, l'\u00e9vita, et avec une pelle\nqu'il tenait \u00e0 la main,--car il travaillait en ce moment au champ de\nbl\u00e9,--\u00e9tendit par terre ce forcen\u00e9. Un autre Anglais, accourant au\nsecours de son camarade, renversa d'un coup l'Espagnol; puis, deux\nEspagnols vinrent \u00e0 l'aide de leur compatriote, et le troisi\u00e8me Anglais\ntomba sur eux: aucun n'avait d'arme \u00e0 feu; ils n'avaient que des\nhachettes et d'autres outils, \u00e0 l'exception du troisi\u00e8me Anglais.\nCelui-ci \u00e9tait arm\u00e9 de l'un de mes vieux coutelas rouill\u00e9s, avec lequel\nil s'\u00e9lan\u00e7a sur les Espagnols derniers arrivants et les blessa touts les\ndeux. Cette bagarre mit toute la famille en rumeur; du renfort suivint,\net les trois Anglais furent faits prisonniers. Il s'agit alors de voir\nce que l'on ferait d'eux. Ils s'\u00e9taient montr\u00e9s souvent si mutins, si\nterribles, si paresseux, qu'on ne savait trop quelle mesure prendre \u00e0\nleur \u00e9gard; car ces quelques hommes, dangereux au plus haut degr\u00e9, ne\nvalaient pas le mal qu'ils donnaient. En un mot, il n'y avait pas de\ns\u00e9curit\u00e9 \u00e0 vivre avec eux.\nNOUVEL ATTENTAT DE WILL ATKINS\nL'Espagnol qui \u00e9tait gouverneur leur dit en propres termes que s'ils\n\u00e9taient ses compatriotes il les ferait pendre; car toutes les lois et\ntouts les gouvernants sont institu\u00e9s pour la conservation de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9,\net ceux qui sont nuisibles \u00e0 la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 doivent \u00eatre repouss\u00e9s de son\nsein; mais que comme ils \u00e9taient Anglais, et que c'\u00e9tait \u00e0 la g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse\nhumanit\u00e9 d'un Anglais qu'ils devaient touts leur vie et leur d\u00e9livrance,\nil les traiterait avec toute la douceur possible, et les abandonnerait\nau jugement de leurs deux compatriotes.\nUn des deux honn\u00eates Anglais se leva alors, et dit qu'ils d\u00e9siraient\nqu'on ne les chois\u00eet pas pour juges;--\u00abcar, ajouta-t-il, j'ai la\nconviction que notre devoir serait de les condamner \u00e0 \u00eatre\npendus.\u00bb--Puis, il raconta comment WILL ATKINS, l'un des trois, avait\npropos\u00e9 aux Anglais de se liguer touts les cinq pour \u00e9gorger les\nEspagnols pendant leur sommeil.\nQuand le gouverneur espagnol entendit cela, il s'adressa \u00e0 Will\nATKINS:--\u00abComment, sen\u00f5r ATKINS, dit-il, vous vouliez nous tuer touts?\nQu'avez-vous \u00e0 dire \u00e0 cela?\u00bb--Ce coquin endurci \u00e9tait si loin de le\nnier, qu'il affirma que cela \u00e9tait vrai, et, Dieu me damne, jura-t-il,\nsi nous ne le faisons pas avant de d\u00e9m\u00ealer rien autre avec vous.--\u00abFort\nbien; mais, se\u00f1or ATKINS, dit l'Espagnol, que vous avons-nous fait pour\nque vous veuillez nous tuer? et que gagneriez-vous \u00e0 nous tuer? et que\ndevons-nous faire pour vous emp\u00eacher de nous tuer? Faut-il que nous vous\ntuions ou que nous soyons tu\u00e9s par vous? Pourquoi voulez-vous nous\nr\u00e9duire \u00e0 cette n\u00e9cessit\u00e9, se\u00f1or ATKINS? dit l'Espagnol avec beaucoup de\ncalme et en souriant.\nSe\u00f1or ATKINS entra dans une telle rage contre l'Espagnol qui avait fait\nune raillerie de cela, que, s'il n'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 retenu par trois hommes, et\nsans armes, il est croyable qu'il aurait tent\u00e9 de le tuer au milieu de\ntoute l'assembl\u00e9e.\nCette conduite insens\u00e9e les obligea \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer s\u00e9rieusement le parti\nqu'ils devaient prendre. Les deux Anglais et l'Espagnol qui avait sauv\u00e9\nle pauvre esclave \u00e9taient d'opinion qu'il fallait pendre l'un des trois,\npour l'exemple des autres, et que ce devait \u00eatre celui-l\u00e0 qui avait deux\nfois tent\u00e9 de commettre un meurtre avec sa hachette; et par le fait, on\naurait pu penser, non sans raison, que le crime \u00e9tait consomm\u00e9; car le\npauvre Sauvage \u00e9tait dans un \u00e9tat si mis\u00e9rable depuis la blessure qu'il\navait re\u00e7ue, qu'on croyait qu'il ne survivrait pas.\nMais le gouverneur espagnol dit encore--\u00abNon\u00bb,--r\u00e9p\u00e9tant que c'\u00e9tait un\nAnglais qui leur avait sauv\u00e9 \u00e0 touts la vie, et qu'il ne consentirait\njamais \u00e0 mettre un Anglais \u00e0 mort, e\u00fbt-il assassin\u00e9 la moiti\u00e9 d'entre\neux; il ajouta que, s'il \u00e9tait lui-m\u00eame frapp\u00e9 mortellement par un\nAnglais, et qu'il e\u00fbt le temps de parler, ce serait pour demander son\npardon.\nL'Espagnol mit tant d'insistance, qu'il n'y eut pas moyen de lui\nr\u00e9sister; et, comme les conseils de la cl\u00e9mence pr\u00e9valent presque\ntoujours lorsqu'ils sont appuy\u00e9s avec autant de chaleur, touts se\nrendirent \u00e0 son sentiment. Mais il restait \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer ce qu'on ferait\npour emp\u00eacher ces gens-l\u00e0 de faire le mal qu'ils pr\u00e9m\u00e9ditaient; car\ntouts convinrent, le gouverneur aussi bien que les autres, qu'il fallait\ntrouver le moyen de mettre la soci\u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 l'abri du danger. Apr\u00e8s un long\nd\u00e9bat, il fut arr\u00eat\u00e9 tout d'abord qu'ils seraient d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s, et qu'on ne\nleur permettrait d'avoir ni fusils, ni poudre, ni plomb, ni sabres, ni\narmes quelconques; qu'on les expulserait de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9, et qu'on les\nlaisserait vivre comme ils voudraient et comme ils pourraient; mais\nqu'aucun des autres, Espagnols ou Anglais, ne les fr\u00e9quenterait, ne leur\nparlerait et n'aurait avec eux la moindre relation; qu'on leur\nd\u00e9fendrait d'approcher \u00e0 une certaine distance du lieu o\u00f9 habitaient les\nautres; et que s'ils venaient \u00e0 commettre quelque d\u00e9sordre, comme de\nravager, de br\u00fbler, de tuer, ou de d\u00e9truire le bl\u00e9, les cultures, les\nconstructions, les enclos ou le b\u00e9tail appartenant \u00e0 la soci\u00e9t\u00e9, on les\nferait mourir sans mis\u00e9ricorde et on les fusillerait partout o\u00f9 on les\ntrouverait.\nLe gouverneur, homme d'une grande humanit\u00e9, r\u00e9fl\u00e9chit quelques instants\nsur cette sentence; puis, se tournant vers les deux honn\u00eates\nAnglais,--\u00abArr\u00eatez, leur dit-il; songez qu'il s'\u00e9coulera bien du temps\navant qu'ils puissent avoir du bl\u00e9 et des troupeaux \u00e0 eux: il ne faut\npas qu'ils p\u00e9rissent de faim; nous devons leur accorder des provisions.\nIl fit donc ajouter \u00e0 la sentence qu'on leur donnerait une certaine\nquantit\u00e9 de bl\u00e9 pour semer et se nourrir pendant huit mois, apr\u00e8s lequel\ntemps il \u00e9tait pr\u00e9sumable qu'ils en auraient provenant de leur r\u00e9colte;\nqu'en outre on leur donnerait six ch\u00e8vres laiti\u00e8res, quatre boucs, six\nchevreaux pour leur subsistance actuelle et leur approvisionnement, et\nenfin des outils pour travailler aux champs, tels que six hachettes, une\nhache, une scie et autres objets; mais qu'on ne leur remettrait ni\noutils ni provisions \u00e0 moins qu'ils ne jurassent solemnellement qu'avec\nces instruments ils ne feraient ni mal ni outrage aux Espagnols et \u00e0\nleurs camarades anglais.\nC'est ainsi qu'expuls\u00e9s de la soci\u00e9t\u00e9, ils eurent \u00e0 se tirer d'affaire\npar eux-m\u00eames. Ils s'\u00e9loign\u00e8rent hargneux et r\u00e9calcitrants; mais, comme\nil n'y avait pas de rem\u00e8de, jouant les gens \u00e0 qui il \u00e9tait indiff\u00e9rent\nde partir ou de rester, ils d\u00e9guerpirent, pr\u00e9tendant qu'ils allaient se\nchoisir une place pour s'y \u00e9tablir, y planter et y pourvoir \u00e0 leur\nexistence. On leur donna quelques provisions, mais point d'armes.\nQuatre ou cinq jours apr\u00e8s ils revinrent demander des aliments, et\nd\u00e9sign\u00e8rent au gouverneur le lieu o\u00f9 ils avaient dress\u00e9 leurs tentes et\ntrac\u00e9 l'emplacement de leur habitation et de leur plantation. L'endroit\n\u00e9tait effectivement tr\u00e8s-convenable, situ\u00e9 au Nord-Est, dans la partie\nla plus recul\u00e9e de l'\u00eele, non loin du lieu o\u00f9, gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 la Providence,\nj'abordai lors de mon premier voyage apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9 en pleine\nmer, Dieu seul sait o\u00f9! dans ma folle tentative de faire le tour de\nl'\u00eele.\nL\u00e0, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s sur le plan de ma premi\u00e8re habitation, ils se b\u00e2tirent\ndeux belles huttes, qu'ils adoss\u00e8rent \u00e0 une colline ayant d\u00e9j\u00e0 quelques\narbres parsem\u00e9s sur trois de ses c\u00f4t\u00e9s; de sorte qu'en en plantant\nd'autres, il fut facile de les cacher de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ce qu'elles ne\npussent \u00eatre apper\u00e7ues sans beaucoup de recherches.--Ces exil\u00e9s\nexprim\u00e8rent aussi le d\u00e9sir d'avoir quelques peaux de bouc s\u00e9ch\u00e9es pour\nleur servir de lits et de couvertures; on leur en accorda, et, ayant\ndonn\u00e9 leur parole qu'ils ne troubleraient personne et respecteraient les\nplantations, on leur remit des hachettes et les autres outils dont on\npouvait se priver; des pois, de l'orge et du riz pour semer; en un mot\ntout ce qui leur \u00e9tait n\u00e9cessaire, sauf des armes et des munitions.\nIls v\u00e9curent, ainsi \u00e0 part environ six mois, et firent leur premi\u00e8re\nr\u00e9colte; \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, cette r\u00e9colte fut peu de chose, car ils n'avaient\npu ensemencer qu'une petite \u00e9tendue de terrain, ayant toutes leurs\nplantations \u00e0 \u00e9tablir, et par cons\u00e9quent beaucoup d'ouvrage sur les\nbras. Lorsqu'il leur fallut faire des planches, de la poterie et autres\nchoses semblables, ils se trouv\u00e8rent fort emp\u00each\u00e9s et ne purent y\nr\u00e9ussir; quand vint la saison des pluies, n'ayant pas de caverne, ils ne\npurent tenir leur grain sec, et il fut en grand danger de se g\u00e2ter: ceci\nles contrista beaucoup. Ils vinrent donc supplier les Espagnols de les\naider, ce que ceux-ci firent volontiers, et en quatre jours on leur\ncreusa dans le flanc de la colline un trou assez grand pour mettre \u00e0\nl'abri de la pluie leur grain et leurs autres provisions; mais c'\u00e9tait\napr\u00e8s tout une triste grotte, compar\u00e9e \u00e0 la mienne et surtout \u00e0 ce\nqu'elle \u00e9tait alors; car les Espagnols l'avaient beaucoup agrandie et y\navaient pratiqu\u00e9 de nouveaux logements.\nEnviron trois trimestres apr\u00e8s cette s\u00e9paration il prit \u00e0 ces chenapans\nune nouvelle lubie, qui, jointe aux premiers brigandages qu'ils avaient\ncommis, attira sur eux le malheur et faillit \u00e0 causer la ruine de la\ncolonie tout enti\u00e8re. Les trois nouveaux associ\u00e9s commenc\u00e8rent, \u00e0 ce\nqu'il para\u00eet, \u00e0 se fatiguer de la vie laborieuse qu'ils menaient sans\nespoir d'am\u00e9liorer leur condition; il leur vint la fantaisie de faire un\nvoyage au continent d'o\u00f9 venaient les Sauvages, afin d'essayer s'ils ne\npourraient pas r\u00e9ussir \u00e0 s'emparer de quelques prisonniers parmi les\nnaturels du pays, les emmener dans leur plantation, et se d\u00e9charger sur\neux des travaux les plus p\u00e9nibles.\nCe projet n'\u00e9tait pas mal entendu s'ils se fussent born\u00e9s \u00e0 cela; mais\nils ne faisaient rien et ne se proposaient rien o\u00f9 il n'y e\u00fbt du mal\nsoit dans l'intention, soit dans le r\u00e9sultat; et, si je puis dire mon\nopinion, il semblait qu'ils fussent plac\u00e9s sous la mal\u00e9diction du Ciel;\ncar si nous n'accordons pas que des crimes visibles sont poursuivis de\nch\u00e2timents visibles, comment concilierons-nous les \u00e9v\u00e9nements avec la\njustice divine? Ce fut sans doute en punition manifeste de leurs crimes\nde r\u00e9bellion et de piraterie qu'ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9s \u00e0 la position o\u00f9\nils se trouvaient; mais bien loin de montrer le moindre remords de ces\ncrimes, ils y ajoutaient de nouvelles sc\u00e9l\u00e9ratesses.; telles que cette\ncruaut\u00e9 monstrueuse de blesser un pauvre esclave parce qu'il n'ex\u00e9cutait\npas ou peut-\u00eatre ne comprenait pas l'ordre qui lui \u00e9tait donn\u00e9, de le\nblesser de telle mani\u00e8re, que sans nul doute il en est rest\u00e9 estropi\u00e9\ntoute sa vie, et dans un lieu o\u00f9 il n'y avait pour le gu\u00e9rir ni\nchirurgien, ni m\u00e9dicaments; mais le pire de tout ce fut leur dessein\nsanguinaire, c'est-\u00e0-dire, tout bien jug\u00e9, leur meurtre intentionnel,\ncar, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, c'en \u00e9tait un, ainsi que plus tard leur projet concert\u00e9\nd'assassiner de sang-froid les Espagnols durant leur sommeil.\nJe laisse les r\u00e9flexions, et je reprends mon r\u00e9cit. Les trois garnements\nvinrent un matin trouver les Espagnols, et en de tr\u00e8s-humbles termes\ndemand\u00e8rent instamment \u00e0 \u00eatre admis \u00e0 leur parler. Ceux-ci consentirent\nvolontiers \u00e0 entendre ce qu'ils avaient \u00e0 leur dire. Voil\u00e0 de quoi il\ns'agissait:--\u00abNous sommes fatigu\u00e9s, dirent-ils, de la vie que nous\nmenons; nous ne sommes pas assez habiles pour faire nous-m\u00eames tout ce\ndont nous avons besoin; et, manquant d'aide, nous aurions \u00e0 redouter de\nmourir de faim; mais si vous vouliez nous permettre de prendre l'un des\ncanots dans lesquels vous \u00eates venus, et nous donner les armes et les\nmunitions n\u00e9cessaires pour notre d\u00e9fense, nous gagnerions la terre ferme\npour chercher fortune, et nous vous d\u00e9livrerions ainsi du soin de nous\npourvoir de nouvelles provisions.\u00bb\nLes Espagnols \u00e9taient assez enchant\u00e9s d'en \u00eatre d\u00e9barrass\u00e9s. Cependant\nils leur repr\u00e9sent\u00e8rent avec franchise qu'ils allaient courir \u00e0 une mort\ncertaine, et leur dirent qu'eux-m\u00eames avaient \u00e9prouv\u00e9 de telles\nsouffrances sur le continent, que, sans \u00eatre proph\u00e8tes, ils pouvaient\nleur pr\u00e9dire qu'ils y mourraient de faim ou y seraient assassin\u00e9s. Ils\nles engag\u00e8rent \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir \u00e0 cela.\nCes hommes r\u00e9pondirent audacieusement qu'ils mourraient de faim s'ils\nrestaient, car ils ne pouvaient ni ne voulaient travailler. Que\nlorsqu'ils seraient l\u00e0-bas le pire qui pourrait leur arriver c'\u00e9tait de\np\u00e9rir d'inanition; que si on les tuait, tant serait fini pour eux;\nqu'ils n'avaient ni femmes ni enfants pour les pleurer. Bref, ils\nrenouvel\u00e8rent leur demande avec instance, d\u00e9clarant que de toute mani\u00e8re\nils partiraient, qu'on leur donn\u00e2t ou non des armes.\nLes Espagnols leur dirent, avec beaucoup de bont\u00e9, que, s'ils \u00e9taient\nabsolument d\u00e9cid\u00e9s \u00e0 partir, ils ne devaient pas se mettre en route\nd\u00e9nu\u00e9s de tout et sans moyens de d\u00e9fense; et que, bien qu'il leur f\u00fbt\np\u00e9nible de se d\u00e9faire de leurs armes \u00e0 feu, n'en ayant pas assez pour\neux-m\u00eames, cependant ils leur donneraient deux mousquets, un pistolet,\net de plus un coutelas et \u00e0 chacun une hachette; ce qu'ils jugeaient\ndevoir leur suffire.\nEn un mot, les Anglais accept\u00e8rent cette offre; et, les Espagnols leur\nayant cuit assez de pain pour subsister pendant un mois et leur ayant\ndonn\u00e9 autant de viande de ch\u00e8vre qu'ils en pourraient manger pendant\nqu'elle serait fra\u00eeche, ainsi qu'un grand panier de raisins secs, une\ncruche d'eau douce et un jeune chevreau vivant, ils mont\u00e8rent hardiment\ndans un canot pour traverser une mer qui avait au moins quarante milles\nde large.\nCAPTIFS OFFERTS EN PR\u00c9SENT\nCe canot \u00e9tait grand, et aurait pu ais\u00e9ment transporter quinze ou vingt\nhommes: aussi ne pouvaient-ils le man\u0153uvrer que difficilement;\ntoutefois, \u00e0 la faveur d'une bonne brise et du flot de la mar\u00e9e, ils\ns'en tir\u00e8rent assez bien. Ils s'\u00e9taient fait un m\u00e2t d'une longue perche,\net une voile de quatre grandes peaux de bouc s\u00e9ch\u00e9es qu'ils avaient\ncousues ou lac\u00e9es ensemble; et ils \u00e9taient partis assez joyeusement. Les\nEspagnols leur cri\u00e8rent--\u00abbuen viage\u00bb. Personne ne pensait les revoir.\nLes Espagnols se disaient souvent les uns aux autres, ainsi que les deux\nhonn\u00eates Anglais qui \u00e9taient rest\u00e9s:--\u00abQuelle vie tranquille et\nconfortable nous menons maintenant que ces trois turbulents compagnons\nsont partis!--Quant \u00e0 leur retour, c'\u00e9tait la chose la plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e de\nleur pens\u00e9e. Mais voici qu'apr\u00e8s vingt-deux jours d'absence, un des\nAnglais, qui travaillait dehors \u00e0 sa plantation, apper\u00e7oit au loin trois\n\u00e9trangers qui venaient \u00e0 lui: deux d'entre eux portaient un fusil sur\nl'\u00e9paule.\nL'Anglais s'enfuit comme s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ensorcel\u00e9. Il accourut boulevers\u00e9\net effray\u00e9 vers le gouverneur espagnol, et lui dit qu'ils \u00e9taient touts\nperdus; car des \u00e9trangers avaient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 dans l'\u00eele: il ne put dire\nqui ils \u00e9taient. L'Espagnol, apr\u00e8s avoir r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi un moment, lui\nr\u00e9pondit:--\u00abQue voulez-vous dire? Vous ne savez pas qui ils sont? mais\nce sont des Sauvages s\u00fbrement.\u00bb--\u00abNon, non, r\u00e9partit l'Anglais, ce sont\ndes hommes v\u00eatus et arm\u00e9s.--\u00abAlors donc, dit l'Espagnol, pourquoi vous\nmettez-vous en peine? Si ce ne sont pas des Sauvages, ce ne peut \u00eatre\nque des amis, car il n'est pas de nation chr\u00e9tienne sur la terre qui ne\nsoit dispos\u00e9e \u00e0 nous faire plut\u00f4t du bien que du mal.\u00bb\nPendant qu'ils discutaient ainsi arriv\u00e8rent les trois Anglais, qui,\ns'arr\u00eatant en dehors du bois nouvellement plant\u00e9, se mirent \u00e0 les\nappeler. On reconnut aussit\u00f4t leur voix, et tout le merveilleux de\nl'aventure s'\u00e9vanouit. Mais alors l'\u00e9tonnement se porta sur un autre\nobjet, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'on se demanda quels \u00e9taient leur dessein et le\nmotif de leur retour.\nBient\u00f4t on fit entrer nos trois coureurs, et on les questionna sur le\nlieu o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient all\u00e9s et sur ce qu'ils avaient fait. En peu de mots\nils racont\u00e8rent tout leur voyage. Ils avaient, dirent-ils, atteint la\nterre en deux jours ou un peu moins; mais, voyant les habitants alarm\u00e9s\n\u00e0 leur approche et s'armant de leurs arcs et de leurs fl\u00e8ches pour les\ncombattre, ils n'avaient pas os\u00e9 d\u00e9barquer, et avaient fait voile au\nNord pendant six au sept heures; alors ils \u00e9taient arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 un grand\nchenal, qui leur fit reconna\u00eetre que la terre qu'on d\u00e9couvrait de notre\ndomaine n'\u00e9tait pas le continent, mais une \u00eele. Apr\u00e8s \u00eatre entr\u00e9s dans\nce bras de mer, ils avaient apper\u00e7u une autre \u00eele \u00e0 droite, vers le\nNord, et plusieurs autres \u00e0 l'Ouest. D\u00e9cid\u00e9s \u00e0 aborder n'importe o\u00f9, ils\ns'\u00e9taient dirig\u00e9s vers l'une des \u00eeles situ\u00e9es \u00e0 l'Ouest, et \u00e9taient\nhardiment descendus au rivage. L\u00e0 ils avaient trouv\u00e9 des habitants\naffables et bienveillants, qui leur avaient donn\u00e9 quantit\u00e9 de racines et\nquelques poissons secs, et s'\u00e9taient montr\u00e9s tr\u00e8s-sociables. Les femmes\naussi bien que les hommes s'\u00e9taient empress\u00e9s de les pourvoir de touts\nles aliments qu'ils avaient pu se procurer, et qu'ils avaient apport\u00e9s\nde fort loin sur leur t\u00eate.\nIls demeur\u00e8rent quatre jours parmi ces naturels. Leur ayant demand\u00e9 par\nsignes, du mieux qu'il leur \u00e9tait possible, quelles \u00e9taient les nations\nenvironnantes, ceux-ci r\u00e9pondirent que presque de touts c\u00f4t\u00e9s habitaient\ndes peuples farouches et terribles qui, \u00e0 ce qu'ils leur donn\u00e8rent \u00e0\nentendre, avaient coutume de manger des hommes. Quant \u00e0 eux, ils dirent\nqu'ils ne mangeaient jamais ni hommes ni femmes except\u00e9 ceux qu'ils\nprenaient \u00e0 la guerre; puis, ils avou\u00e8rent qu'ils faisaient de grands\nfestins avec la chair de leurs prisonniers.\nLes Anglais leur demand\u00e8rent \u00e0 quelle \u00e9poque ils avaient fait un banquet\nde cette nature; les Sauvages leur r\u00e9pondirent qu'il y avait de cela\ndeux lunes, montrant la lune, puis deux de leurs doigts; et que leur\ngrand Roi avait deux cents prisonniers de guerre qu'on engraissait pour\nle prochain festin. Nos hommes parurent excessivement d\u00e9sireux de voir\nces prisonniers; mais les autres, se m\u00e9prenant, s'imagin\u00e8rent qu'ils\nd\u00e9siraient qu'on leur en donn\u00e2t pour les emmener et les manger, et leur\nfirent entendre, en indiquant d'abord le soleil couchant, puis le\nlevant, que le lendemain matin au lever du soleil ils leur en\nam\u00e8neraient quelques-uns. En cons\u00e9quence, le matin suivant ils amen\u00e8rent\ncinq femmes et onze hommes,--et les leur donn\u00e8rent pour les transporter\navec eux,--comme on conduirait des vaches et des b\u0153ufs \u00e0 un port de mer\npour ravitailler un vaisseau.\nTout brutaux et barbares que ces vauriens se fussent montr\u00e9s chez eux,\nleur c\u0153ur se souleva \u00e0 cette vue, et ils ne surent que r\u00e9soudre: refuser\nles prisonniers c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 un affront sanglant pour la nation sauvage qui\nles leur offrait; mais qu'en faire, ils ne le savaient. Cependant apr\u00e8s\nquelques d\u00e9bats ils se d\u00e9termin\u00e8rent \u00e0 les accepter, et ils donn\u00e8rent en\nretour aux Sauvages qui les leur avaient amen\u00e9s une de leurs hachettes,\nune vieille clef, un couteau et six ou sept de leurs balles: bien qu'ils\nen ignorassent l'usage, ils en sembl\u00e8rent extr\u00eamement satisfaits; puis,\nles Sauvages ayant li\u00e9 sur le dos les mains des pauvres cr\u00e9atures, ils\nles tra\u00een\u00e8rent dans le canot.\nLes Anglais furent oblig\u00e9s de partir aussit\u00f4t apr\u00e8s les avoir re\u00e7us, car\nceux qui leur avaient fait ce noble pr\u00e9sent se seraient, sans aucun\ndoute, attendus \u00e0 ce que le lendemain matin, ils se missent \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre\nsur ces captifs, \u00e0 ce qu'ils en tuassent deux ou trois et peut-\u00eatre \u00e0 ce\nqu'ils les invitassent \u00e0 partager leur repas.\nMais, ayant pris cong\u00e9 des Sauvages avec tout le respect et la politesse\npossibles entre gens qui de part et d'autre n'entendent pas un mot de ce\nqu'ils se disent, ils mirent \u00e0 la voile et revinrent \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re \u00eele,\no\u00f9 en arrivant ils donn\u00e8rent la libert\u00e9 \u00e0 huit de leurs captifs, dont\nils avaient un trop grand nombre.\nPendant le voyage, ils t\u00e2ch\u00e8rent d'entrer en communication avec leurs\nprisonniers; mais il \u00e9tait impossible de leur faire entendre quoi que ce\nf\u00fbt. \u00c0 chaque chose qu'on leur disait, qu'on leur donnait ou faisait,\nils croyaient qu'on allait les tuer. Quand ils se mirent \u00e0 les d\u00e9lier,\nces pauvres mis\u00e9rables jet\u00e8rent de grands cris, surtout les femmes;\ncomme si d\u00e9j\u00e0 elles se fussent senti le couteau sur la gorge,\ns'imaginant qu'on ne les d\u00e9tachait que pour les assassiner.\nIl en \u00e9tait de m\u00eame si on leur donnait \u00e0 manger; ils en concluaient que\nc'\u00e9tait de peur qu'ils ne d\u00e9p\u00e9rissent et qu'ils ne fussent pas assez\ngras pour \u00eatre tu\u00e9s. Si l'un d'eux \u00e9tait regard\u00e9 d'une mani\u00e8re plus\nparticuli\u00e8re, il s'imaginait que c'\u00e9tait pour voir s'il \u00e9tait le plus\ngras et le plus propre \u00e0 \u00eatre tu\u00e9 le premier. Apr\u00e8s m\u00eame que les Anglais\nles eurent amen\u00e9s dans l'\u00eele et qu'ils eurent commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 en user avec\nbont\u00e9 \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard et \u00e0 les bien traiter, ils ne s'en attendirent pas\nmoins chaque jour \u00e0 servir de d\u00eener ou de souper \u00e0 leurs nouveaux\nma\u00eetres.\nQuand les trois aventuriers eurent termin\u00e9 cet \u00e9trange r\u00e9cit ou journal\nde leur voyage, les Espagnols leur demand\u00e8rent o\u00f9 \u00e9tait leur nouvelle\nfamille. Ils leur r\u00e9pondirent qu'ils l'avaient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9e et plac\u00e9e dans\nl'une de leurs huttes et qu'ils \u00e9taient venus demander quelques vivres\npour elle. Sur quoi les Espagnols et les deux autres Anglais,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire la colonie tout enti\u00e8re, r\u00e9solurent d'aller la voir, et\nc'est ce qu'ils firent: le p\u00e8re de VENDREDI les accompagna.\nQuand ils entr\u00e8rent dans la hutte ils les virent assis et garrott\u00e9s: car\nlorsque les Anglais avaient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 ces pauvres gens, ils leur avaient\nli\u00e9 les mains, afin qu'ils ne pussent s'emparer du canot et s'\u00e9chapper;\nils \u00e9taient donc l\u00e0 assis, enti\u00e8rement nus. D'abord il y avait trois\nhommes vigoureux, beaux gar\u00e7ons, bien d\u00e9coupl\u00e9s, droits et bien\nproportionn\u00e9s, pouvant avoir de trente \u00e0 trente-cinq ans; puis cinq\nfemmes, dont deux paraissaient avoir de trente \u00e0 quarante ans; deux\nautres n'ayant pas plus de vingt-quatre ou vingt-cinq ans, et une\ncinqui\u00e8me, grande et belle fille de seize \u00e0 dix-sept ans. Les femmes\n\u00e9taient d'agr\u00e9ables personnes aussi belles de corps que de visage,\nseulement elles \u00e9taient basan\u00e9es; deux d'entre elles, si elles eussent\n\u00e9t\u00e9 parfaitement blanches, auraient pass\u00e9 pour de jolies femmes, m\u00eame \u00e0\nLondres, car elles avaient un air fort avenant et une contenance fort\nmodeste, surtout lorsque par la suite elles furent v\u00eatues et par\u00e9es,\ncomme ils disaient, bien qu'il faut l'avouer, ce f\u00fbt peu de chose que\ncette parure. Nous y reviendrons.\nCette vue, on n'en saurait douter, avait quelque chose de p\u00e9nible pour\nnos Espagnols, qui, c'est justice \u00e0 leur rendre, \u00e9taient des hommes de\nla conduite la plus noble, du calme le plus grand, du caract\u00e8re le plus\ngrave, et de l'humeur la plus parfaite que j'aie jamais rencontr\u00e9e, et\nen particulier d'une tr\u00e8s-grande modestie, comme on va le voir\ntout-\u00e0-l'heure. Je disais donc qu'il \u00e9tait fort p\u00e9nible pour eux de voir\ntrois hommes et cinq femmes nus, touts garrott\u00e9s ensemble et dans la\nposition la plus mis\u00e9rable o\u00f9 la nature humaine puisse \u00eatre suppos\u00e9e,\ns'attendant \u00e0 chaque instant \u00e0 \u00eatre arrach\u00e9s de ce lieu, \u00e0 avoir le\ncr\u00e2ne fracass\u00e9 et \u00e0 \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s comme un veau tu\u00e9 pour un gala.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose qu'ils firent fut d'envoyer le vieil Indien, le p\u00e8re\nde VENDREDI, aupr\u00e8s d'eux, afin de voir s'il en reconna\u00eetrait quelqu'un,\net s'il comprendrait leur langue. D\u00e8s que ce vieillard fut entr\u00e9 il les\nregarda avec attention l'un apr\u00e8s l'autre, mais n'en reconnut aucun; et\naucun d'eux ne put comprendre une seule des paroles ou un seul des\nsignes qu'il leur adressait, \u00e0 l'exception d'une des femmes.\nN\u00e9anmoins ce fut assez pour le but qu'on se proposait, c'est-\u00e0-dire pour\nles assurer que les gens entre les mains desquels ils \u00e9taient tomb\u00e9s\n\u00e9taient des Chr\u00e9tiens, auxquels l'action de manger des hommes et des\nfemmes faisait horreur, et qu'ils pouvaient \u00eatre certains qu'on ne les\ntuerait pas. Aussit\u00f4t qu'ils eurent l'assurance de cela, ils firent\n\u00e9clater une telle joie, et par des manifestations si grotesques et si\ndiverses, qu'il serait difficile de la d\u00e9crire: il para\u00eet qu'ils\nappartenaient \u00e0 des nations diff\u00e9rentes.\nOn chargea ensuite la femme qui servait d'interpr\u00e8te de leur demander\ns'ils consentaient \u00e0 \u00eatre les serviteurs des hommes qui les avaient\nemmen\u00e9s dans le but de leur sauver la vie, et \u00e0 travailler pour eux. \u00c0\ncette question ils se mirent touts \u00e0 danser; et aussit\u00f4t l'un prit une\nchose, l'autre une autre, enfin tout ce qui se trouvait sous leurs\nmains, et le pla\u00e7aient sur leurs \u00e9paules, pour faire conna\u00eetre par l\u00e0\nqu'ils \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s-dispos\u00e9s \u00e0 travailler.\nLe gouverneur, qui pr\u00e9vit que la pr\u00e9sence de ces femmes parmi eux ne\ntarderait pas \u00e0 avoir des inconv\u00e9nients, et pourrait occasionner\nquelques querelles et peut-\u00eatre des querelles de sang, demanda aux trois\nAnglais comment ils entendaient traiter leurs prisonni\u00e8res, et s'ils se\nproposaient d'en faire leurs servantes ou leurs femmes? L'un d'eux\nr\u00e9pondit brusquement et hardiment, qu'ils en feraient l'un et l'autre. \u00c0\nquoi le gouverneur r\u00e9pliqua:--\u00abMon intention n'est pas de vous en\nemp\u00eacher; vous \u00eates ma\u00eetres \u00e0 cet \u00e9gard. Mais je pense qu'il est juste,\nafin d'\u00e9viter parmi vous les d\u00e9sordres et les querelles, et j'attends de\nvotre part par cette raison seulement que si quelqu'un de vous prend une\nde ces cr\u00e9atures pour femme ou pour \u00e9pouse, il n'en prenne qu'une, et\nqu'une fois prise il lui donne protection; car, bien que nous ne\npuissions vous marier, la raison n'en exige pas moins que, tant que vous\nresterez ici, la femme que l'un de vous aura choisie soit \u00e0 sa charge et\ndevienne son \u00e9pouse, je veux dire, ajouta-t-il, que tant qu'il r\u00e9sidera\nici, nul autre que lui n'ait affaire \u00e0 elle.\u00bb--Tout cela parut si juste\nque chacun y donna son assentiment sans nulle difficult\u00e9.\nLOTERIE\nAlors les Anglais demand\u00e8rent aux Espagnols s'ils avaient l'intention de\nprendre quelqu'une de ces Sauvages. Mais touts r\u00e9pondirent: \u00ab--Non.--\u00bb\nLes uns dirent qu'ils avaient leurs femmes en Espagne, les autres qu'ils\nne voulaient pas de femmes qui n'\u00e9taient pas chr\u00e9tiennes; et touts\nd\u00e9clar\u00e8rent qu'ils les respecteraient, ce qui est un exemple de vertu\nque je n'ai jamais rencontr\u00e9 dans touts mes voyages. Pour couper court,\nde leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, les cinq Anglais prirent chacun une femme, c'est-\u00e0-dire\nune femme temporaire; et depuis ils men\u00e8rent un nouveau genre de vie.\nLes Espagnols et le p\u00e8re de VENDREDI demeuraient dans ma vieille\nhabitation, qu'ils avaient beaucoup \u00e9largie \u00e0 l'int\u00e9rieur; ayant avec\neux les trois serviteurs qu'ils s'\u00e9taient acquis lors de la derni\u00e8re\nbataille des Sauvages. C'\u00e9taient les principaux de la colonie; ils\npourvoyaient de vivres touts les autres, ils leur pr\u00eataient toute\nl'assistance possible, et selon que la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 le requ\u00e9rait.\nLe prodigieux de cette histoire est que cinq individus insociables et\nmal assortis se soient accord\u00e9s au sujet de ces femmes, et que deux\nd'entre eux n'aient pas choisi la m\u00eame, d'autant plus qu'il y en avait\ndeux ou trois parmi elles qui \u00e9taient sans comparaison plus agr\u00e9ables\nque les autres. Mais ils trouv\u00e8rent un assez bon exp\u00e9dient pour \u00e9viter\nles querelles: ils mirent les cinq femmes \u00e0 part dans l'une des huttes\net all\u00e8rent touts dans l'autre, puis tir\u00e8rent au sort \u00e0 qui choisirait\nle premier.\nCelui d\u00e9sign\u00e9 pour choisir le premier alla seul \u00e0 la hutte o\u00f9 se\ntrouvaient les pauvres cr\u00e9atures toutes nues, et emmena l'objet de son\nchoix. Il est digne d'observation que celui qui choisit le premier prit\ncelle qu'on regardait comme la moins bien et qui \u00e9tait la plus \u00e2g\u00e9e des\ncinq, ce qui mit en belle humeur ses compagnons: les Espagnols m\u00eame en\nsourirent. Mais le gaillard, plus clairvoyant qu'aucun d'eux,\nconsid\u00e9rait que c'est autant de l'application et du travail que de toute\nautre chose qu'il faut attendre le bien-\u00eatre; et, en effet, cette femme\nfut la meilleure de toutes.\nQuand les pauvres captives se virent ainsi rang\u00e9es sur une file puis\nemmen\u00e9es une \u00e0 une, les terreurs de leur situation les assaillirent de\nnouveau, et elles crurent fermement qu'elles \u00e9taient sur le point d'\u00eatre\nd\u00e9vor\u00e9es. Aussi, lorsque le matelot anglais entra et en emmena une, les\nautres pouss\u00e8rent un cri lamentable, se pendirent apr\u00e8s elle et lui\ndirent adieu avec tant de douleur et d'affection que le c\u0153ur le plus dur\ndu monde en aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9chir\u00e9. Il fut impossible aux Anglais de leur\nfaire comprendre qu'elles ne seraient pas \u00e9gorg\u00e9es avant qu'ils eussent\nfait venir le vieux p\u00e8re de VENDREDI, qui, sur-le-champ, leur apprit que\nles cinq hommes qui \u00e9taient all\u00e9s les chercher l'une apr\u00e8s l'autre les\navaient choisies pour femmes.\nApr\u00e8s que cela fut fait, et que l'effroi des femmes fut un peu dissip\u00e9,\nles hommes se mirent \u00e0 l'ouvrage. Les Espagnols vinrent les aider, et en\npeu d'heures on leur eut \u00e9lev\u00e9 \u00e0 chacun une hutte ou tente pour se loger\n\u00e0 part; car celles qu'ils avaient d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e9taient encombr\u00e9es d'outils,\nd'ustensiles de m\u00e9nage et de provisions.\nLes trois coquins s'\u00e9taient \u00e9tablis un peu plus loin que les deux\nhonn\u00eates gens, mais les uns et les autres sur le rivage septentrional de\nl'\u00eele; de sorte qu'ils continu\u00e8rent \u00e0 vivre s\u00e9par\u00e9ment. Mon \u00eele fut donc\npeupl\u00e9e en trois endroits, et pour ainsi dire on venait d'y jeter les\nfondements de trois villes.\nIci il est bon d'observer que, ainsi que cela arrive souvent dans le\nmonde,--la Providence, dans la sagesse de ses fins, en dispose-t-elle\nainsi? c'est ce que j'ignore--, les deux honn\u00eates gens eurent les plus\nmauvaises femmes en partage, et les trois r\u00e9prouv\u00e9s, qui \u00e9taient \u00e0 peine\ndignes de la potence, qui n'\u00e9taient bons \u00e0 rien, et qui semblaient n\u00e9s\npour ne faire du bien ni \u00e0 eux-m\u00eames ni \u00e0 autrui, eurent trois femmes\nadroites, diligentes, soigneuses et intelligentes: non que les deux\npremi\u00e8res fussent de mauvaises femmes sous le rapport de l'humeur et du\ncaract\u00e8re; car toutes les cinq \u00e9taient des cr\u00e9atures tr\u00e8s-pr\u00e9venantes,\ntr\u00e8s-douces et tr\u00e8s-soumises, passives plut\u00f4t comme des esclaves que\ncomme des \u00e9pouses; je veux dire seulement qu'elles n'\u00e9taient pas\n\u00e9galement adroites, intelligentes ou industrieuses, ni \u00e9galement\n\u00e9pargnantes et soigneuses.\nIl est encore une autre observation que je dois faire, \u00e0 l'honneur d'une\ndiligente pers\u00e9v\u00e9rance d'une part, et \u00e0 la honte d'un caract\u00e8re\nn\u00e9gligent et paresseux d'autre part; c'est que, lorsque j'arrivai dans\nl'\u00eele, et que j'examinai les am\u00e9liorations diverses, les cultures et la\nbonne direction des petites colonies, les deux Anglais avaient de si\nloin d\u00e9pass\u00e9 les trois autres, qu'il n'y avait pas de comparaison \u00e0\n\u00e9tablir entre eux. Ils n'avaient ensemenc\u00e9, il est vrai, les uns et les\nautres, que l'\u00e9tendue de terrain n\u00e9cessaire \u00e0 leurs besoins, et ils\navaient eu raison \u00e0 mon sens; car la nature nous dit qu'il est inutile\nde semer plus qu'on ne consomme; mais la diff\u00e9rence dans la culture, les\nplantations, les cl\u00f4tures et dans tout le reste se voyait de prime\nabord.\nLes deux Anglais avaient plant\u00e9 autour de leur hutte un grand nombre de\njeunes arbres, de mani\u00e8re qu'en approchant de la place vous\nn'apperceviez qu'un bois. Quoique leur plantation e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ravag\u00e9e deux\nfois, l'une par leurs compatriotes et l'autre par l'ennemi comme on le\nverra en son lieu, n\u00e9anmoins ils avaient tout r\u00e9tabli, et tout chez eux\n\u00e9tait florissant et prosp\u00e8re. Ils avaient des vignes parfaitement\nplant\u00e9es, bien qu'eux-m\u00eames n'en eussent jamais vu; et gr\u00e2ce aux soins\nqu'ils donnaient \u00e0 cette culture, leurs raisins \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 aussi bons\nque ceux des autres. Ils s'\u00e9taient aussi fait une retraite dans la\npartie la plus \u00e9paisse des bois. Ce n'\u00e9tait pas une caverne naturelle\ncomme celle que j'avais trouv\u00e9e, mais une grotte qu'ils avaient creus\u00e9e\n\u00e0 force de travail, o\u00f9, lorsque arriva le malheur qui va suivre, ils\nmirent en s\u00fbret\u00e9 leurs femmes et leurs enfants, si bien qu'on ne put les\nd\u00e9couvrir. Au moyen d'innombrables pieux de ce bois qui, comme je l'ai\ndit, cro\u00eet si facilement, ils avaient \u00e9lev\u00e9 \u00e0 l'entour un bocage\nimp\u00e9n\u00e9trable, except\u00e9 en un seul endroit o\u00f9 ils grimpaient pour gagner\nl'ext\u00e9rieur, et de l\u00e0 entraient dans des sentiers qu'ils s'\u00e9taient\nm\u00e9nag\u00e9s.\nQuant aux trois r\u00e9prouv\u00e9s, comme je les appelle \u00e0 juste titre, bien que\nleur nouvelle position les e\u00fbt beaucoup civilis\u00e9s, en comparaison de ce\nqu'ils \u00e9taient ant\u00e9rieurement, et qu'ils ne fussent pas \u00e0 beaucoup pr\u00e8s\naussi querelleurs, parce qu'ils n'avaient plus les m\u00eames occasions de\nl'\u00eatre, n\u00e9anmoins l'un des compagnons d'un esprit d\u00e9r\u00e9gl\u00e9, je veux dire\nla paresse, ne les avait point abandonn\u00e9s. Ils semaient du bl\u00e9 il est\nvrai, et faisaient des enclos; mais jamais les paroles de Salomon ne se\nv\u00e9rifi\u00e8rent mieux qu'\u00e0 leur \u00e9gard:--\u00abJ'ai pass\u00e9 par la vigne du\nparesseux, elle \u00e9tait couverte de ronces.\u00bb--Car, lorsque les Espagnols\nvinrent pour voir leur moisson, ils ne purent la d\u00e9couvrir en divers\nendroits, \u00e0 cause des mauvaises herbes; il y avait dans la haie\nplusieurs ouvertures par lesquelles les ch\u00e8vres sauvages \u00e9taient entr\u00e9es\net avaient mang\u00e9 le bl\u00e9; \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 on avait bouch\u00e9 le trou comme\nprovisoirement avec des broussailles mortes, mais c'\u00e9tait fermer la\nporte de l'\u00e9curie apr\u00e8s que le cheval \u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 vol\u00e9. Lorsqu'au\ncontraire ils all\u00e8rent voir la plantation des deux autres, partout ils\ntrouv\u00e8rent des marques d'une industrie prosp\u00e8re: il n'y avait pas une\nmauvaise herbe dans leurs bl\u00e9s, pas une ouverture dans leurs haies; et\neux aussi ils v\u00e9rifiaient ces autres paroles de Salomon:--\u00abLa main\ndiligente devient riche\u00bb;--car toutes choses croissaient et se\nbonifiaient chez eux, et l'abondance y r\u00e9gnait au-dedans et au-dehors:\nils avaient plus de b\u00e9tail que les autres, et dans leur int\u00e9rieur plus\nd'ustensiles, plus de bien-\u00eatre, plus aussi de plaisir et d'agr\u00e9ment.\nIl est vrai que les femmes des trois \u00e9taient entendues et soigneuses;\nelles avaient appris \u00e0 pr\u00e9parer et \u00e0 accommoder les mets de l'un des\ndeux autres Anglais, qui, ainsi que je l'ai dit, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 aide de\ncuisine \u00e0 bord du navire, et elles appr\u00eataient fort bien les repas de\nleurs maris. Les autres, au contraire, n'y entendirent jamais rien; mais\ncelui qui, comme je disais, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 aide de cuisine, faisait lui-m\u00eame\nle service. Quant aux maris des trois femmes, ils parcouraient les\nalentours, allaient chercher des \u0153ufs de tortues, p\u00eacher du poisson et\nattraper des oiseaux; en un mot ils faisaient tout autre chose que de\ntravailler: aussi leur ordinaire s'en ressentait-il. Le diligent vivait\nbien et confortablement; le paresseux vivait d'une mani\u00e8re dure et\nmis\u00e9rable; et je pense que g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement parlant, il en est de m\u00eame en\ntouts lieux.\nMais maintenant nous allons passer \u00e0 une sc\u00e8ne diff\u00e9rente de tout ce qui\n\u00e9tait arriv\u00e9 jusqu'alors soit \u00e0 eux, soit \u00e0 moi. Voici quelle en fut\nl'origine.\nUn matin de bonne heure abord\u00e8rent au rivage cinq ou six canots\nd'Indiens ou Sauvages, appelez-les comme il vous plaira; et nul doute\nqu'ils ne vinssent, comme d'habitude, pour manger leurs prisonniers;\nmais cela \u00e9tait devenu si familier aux Espagnols, \u00e0 touts nos gens,\nqu'ils ne s'en tourmentaient plus comme je le faisais. L'exp\u00e9rience leur\nayant appris que leur seule affaire \u00e9tait de se tenir cach\u00e9s, et que\ns'ils n'\u00e9taient point vus des Sauvages, ceux-ci, l'affaire une fois\ntermin\u00e9e, se retireraient paisiblement, ne se doutant pas plus alors\nqu'ils ne l'avaient fait pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment qu'il y e\u00fbt des habitants dans\nl'\u00eele; sachant cela, dis-je, ils comprirent qu'ils n'avaient rien de\nmieux \u00e0 faire que de donner avis aux trois plantations qu'on se t\u00eent\nrenferm\u00e9 et que personne ne se montr\u00e2t; seulement ils plac\u00e8rent une\nvedette dans un lieu convenable pour avertir lorsque les canots se\nseraient remis en mer.\nTant cela \u00e9tait sans doute fort raisonnable; mais un accident funeste\nd\u00e9concerta toutes ces mesures et fit conna\u00eetre aux Sauvages que l'\u00eele\n\u00e9tait habit\u00e9e, ce qui faillit \u00e0 causer la ruine de la colonie tout\nenti\u00e8re. Lorsque les canots des Sauvages se furent \u00e9loign\u00e9s, les\nEspagnols jet\u00e8rent au dehors un regard furtif, et quelques-uns d'entre\neux eurent la curiosit\u00e9 de s'approcher du lieu qu'ils venaient\nd'abandonner pour voir ce qu'ils y avaient fait. \u00c0 leur grande surprise,\nils trouv\u00e8rent trois Sauvages, rest\u00e9s l\u00e0, \u00e9tendus \u00e0 terre, et endormis\nprofond\u00e9ment. On supposa que, gorg\u00e9s \u00e0 leur festin inhumain, ils\ns'\u00e9taient assoupis comme des brutes, et n'avaient pas voulu bouger quand\nles autres \u00e9taient partis, ou qu'\u00e9gar\u00e9s dans les bois ils n'\u00e9taient pas\nrevenus \u00e0 temps pour s'embarquer.\n\u00c0 cette vue les Espagnols furent grandement surpris, et fort embarrass\u00e9s\nsur ce qu'ils devaient faire. Le gouverneur espagnol se trouvait avec\neux, on lui demanda son avis; mais il d\u00e9clara qu'il ne savait quel parti\nprendre. Pour des esclaves, ils en avaient assez d\u00e9j\u00e0; quant \u00e0 les tuer,\nnul d'entre eux n'y \u00e9tait dispos\u00e9. Le gouverneur me dit qu'ils n'avaient\npu avoir l'id\u00e9e de verser le sang innocent, car les pauvres cr\u00e9atures ne\nleur avaient fait aucun mal, n'avaient port\u00e9 aucune atteinte \u00e0 leur\npropri\u00e9t\u00e9; et que touts pensaient qu'aucun motif ne pourrait l\u00e9gitimer\ncet assassinat.\nEt ici je dois dire, \u00e0 l'honneur de ces Espagnols, que, quoi qu'on\npuisse dire de la cruaut\u00e9 de ce peuple au Mexique et au P\u00e9rou, je n'ai\njamais dans aucun pays \u00e9tranger rencontr\u00e9 dix-sept hommes d'une nation\nquelconque qui fussent en toute occasion si modestes, si mod\u00e9r\u00e9s, si\nvertueux, si courtois et d'une humeur si parfaite. Pour ce qui est de la\ncruaut\u00e9, on n'en voyait pas l'ombre dans leur nature: on ne trouvait en\neux ni inhumanit\u00e9, ni barbarie, ni passions violentes; et cependant\ntouts \u00e9taient des hommes d'une grande ardeur et d'un grand courage.\nFUITE \u00c0 LA GROTTE\nLeur douceur et leur calme s'\u00e9taient manifest\u00e9s en supportant la\nconduite intol\u00e9rable des trois Anglais; et alors leur justice et leur\nhumanit\u00e9 se montr\u00e8rent \u00e0 propos des Sauvages dont je viens de parler.\nApr\u00e8s quelques d\u00e9lib\u00e9rations, ils d\u00e9cid\u00e8rent qu'ils ne bougeraient pas\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que, s'il \u00e9tait possible, ces trois hommes fussent partis.\nMais le gouverneur fit la r\u00e9flexion que ces trois Indiens n'avaient pas\nde pirogue; et que si on les laissait r\u00f4der dans l'\u00eele, assur\u00e9ment ils\nd\u00e9couvriraient qu'elle \u00e9tait habit\u00e9e, ce qui causerait la ruine de la\ncolonie.\nSur ce, rebroussant chemin et trouvant les comp\u00e8res qui dormaient encore\nprofond\u00e9ment, ils r\u00e9solurent de les \u00e9veiller et de les faire\nprisonniers; et c'est ce qu'ils firent. Les pauvres diables furent\n\u00e9trangement effray\u00e9s quand ils se virent saisis et li\u00e9s, et, comme les\nfemmes, ils craignirent qu'on ne voul\u00fbt les tuer et les d\u00e9vorer; car, \u00e0\nce qu'il para\u00eet, ces peuples s'imaginent que tout le monde fait comme\neux et mange de la chair humaine; mais on les eut bient\u00f4t tranquillis\u00e9s\nl\u00e0-dessus et on les emmena.\nCe fut une chose fort heureuse pour nos gens de ne pas les avoir\nconduits \u00e0 leur ch\u00e2teau, je veux dire \u00e0 mon palais au pied de la\ncolline, mais de les avoir men\u00e9s d'abord \u00e0 la tonnelle, o\u00f9 \u00e9taient leurs\nprincipales cultures, leurs ch\u00e8vres et leurs champs de bl\u00e9; et plus tard\n\u00e0 l'habitation des deux Anglais.\nL\u00e0 on les fit travailler, quoiqu'on n'e\u00fbt pas grand ouvrage \u00e0 leur\ndonner; et, soit n\u00e9gligence \u00e0 les garder, soit qu'on ne cr\u00fbt pas qu'ils\npussent s'\u00e9manciper, un d'entre eux s'\u00e9chappa, et, s'\u00e9tant r\u00e9fugi\u00e9 dans\nles bois, on ne le revit plus.\nOn eut tout lieu de croire qu'il \u00e9tait retourn\u00e9 dans son pays avec les\nSauvages, qui d\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent trois ou quatre semaines plus tard, firent\nleurs bombances accoutum\u00e9es, et s'en all\u00e8rent au bout de deux jours.\nCette pens\u00e9e atterra nos gens: ils conclurent, et avec beaucoup de\nraison, que cet individu, retourn\u00e9 parmi ses camarades, ne manquerait\npas de leur rapporter qu'il y avait des habitants dans l'\u00eele, et combien\nils \u00e9taient faibles et en petit nombre; car, ainsi que je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit,\non n'avait jamais fait conna\u00eetre \u00e0 ce Sauvage, et cela fut fort heureux,\ncombien nos hommes \u00e9taient et o\u00f9 ils vivaient; jamais il n'avait vu ni\nentendu le feu de leurs armes; on s'\u00e9tait bien gard\u00e9 \u00e0 plus forte raison\nde lui faire voir aucun des lieux de retraite, tels que la caverne dans\nla vall\u00e9e, ou la nouvelle grotte que les deux Anglais avaient creus\u00e9e,\net ainsi du reste.\nLa premi\u00e8re preuve qu'ils eurent de la trahison de ce mis\u00e9rable fut que,\nenviron deux mois plus tard, six canots de Sauvages, contenant chacun de\nsept \u00e0 dix hommes, s'approch\u00e8rent en voguant le long du rivage Nord de\nl'\u00eele, o\u00f9 ils n'avaient pas coutume de se rendre auparavant, et\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent environ une heure apr\u00e8s le lever du soleil dans un endroit\nconvenable, \u00e0 un mille de l'habitation des deux Anglais, o\u00f9 avait \u00e9t\u00e9\ngard\u00e9 le fugitif. Comme me le dit le gouverneur espagnol, s'ils avaient\ntouts \u00e9t\u00e9 l\u00e0 le dommage n'aurait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 si consid\u00e9rable, car pas un de\nces Sauvages n'e\u00fbt \u00e9chapp\u00e9; mais le cas \u00e9tait bien diff\u00e9rent: deux\nhommes contre cinquante, la partie n'\u00e9tait pas \u00e9gale. Heureusement que\nles deux Anglais les apper\u00e7urent \u00e0 une lieue en mer, de sorte qu'il\ns'\u00e9coula plus d'une heure avant qu'ils abordassent; et, comme ils\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent \u00e0 environ un mille de leurs huttes, ce ne fut qu'au bout de\nquelque temps qu'ils arriv\u00e8rent jusqu'\u00e0 eux. Ayant alors grande raison\nde croire qu'ils \u00e9taient trahis, la premi\u00e8re chose qu'ils firent fut de\nlier les deux esclaves qui restaient, et de commander \u00e0 deux des trois\nhommes qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9s avec les femmes, et qui, \u00e0 ce qu'il\npara\u00eet, firent preuve d'une grande fid\u00e9lit\u00e9, de les conduire avec leurs\ndeux \u00e9pouses et tout ce qu'ils pourraient emporter avec eux au milieu du\nbois, dans cette grotte dont j'ai parl\u00e9 plus haut, et l\u00e0, de garder ces\ndeux individus, pieds et poings li\u00e9s, jusqu'\u00e0 nouvel ordre.\nEn second lieu, voyant que les Sauvages avaient touts mis pied \u00e0 terre\net se portaient de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, ils ouvrirent les enclos dans lesquels\n\u00e9taient leurs ch\u00e8vres et les chass\u00e8rent dans le bois pour y errer en\nlibert\u00e9, afin que ces barbares crussent que c'\u00e9taient des animaux\nfarouches; mais le coquin qui les accompagnait, trop rus\u00e9 pour donner\nl\u00e0-dedans, les mit au fait de tout, et ils se dirig\u00e8rent droit \u00e0 la\nplace. Quand les pauvres gens effray\u00e9s eurent mis \u00e0 l'abri leurs femmes\net leurs biens, ils d\u00e9put\u00e8rent leur troisi\u00e8me esclave venu avec les\nfemmes et qui se trouvait l\u00e0 par hasard, en toute h\u00e2te aupr\u00e8s des\nEspagnols pour leur donner l'alarme et leur demander un prompt secours.\nEn m\u00eame temps ils prirent leurs armes et ce qu'ils avaient de munitions,\net se retir\u00e8rent dans le bois, vers le lieu o\u00f9 avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 envoy\u00e9es\nleurs femmes, se tenant \u00e0 distance cependant, de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 voir, si cela\n\u00e9tait possible, la direction que suivraient les Sauvages.\nIls n'avaient pas fait beaucoup de chemin quand du haut d'un monticule\nils apper\u00e7urent la petite arm\u00e9e de leurs ennemis s'avancer directement\nvers leur habitation; et un moment apr\u00e8s, ils virent leurs huttes et\nleurs meubles d\u00e9vor\u00e9s par les flammes, \u00e0 leur grande douleur et \u00e0 leur\ngrande mortification: c'\u00e9tait pour eux une perte cruelle, une perte\nirr\u00e9parable au moins pour quelque temps. Ils conserv\u00e8rent un moment la\nm\u00eame position, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que les Sauvages se r\u00e9pandirent sur toute la\nplace comme des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces, fouillant partout \u00e0 la recherche de leur\nproie, et en particulier des habitants, dont on voyait clairement qu'ils\nconnaissaient l'existence.\nLes deux Anglais, voyant cela et ne se croyant pas en s\u00fbret\u00e9 o\u00f9 ils se\ntrouvaient, car il \u00e9tait probable que quelques-uns de ces barbares\nviendraient de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, et y viendraient sup\u00e9rieurs en forces, jug\u00e8rent\nconvenable de se retirer \u00e0 un demi-mille plus loin, persuad\u00e9s, comme\ncela eut lieu en effet, que plus l'ennemi r\u00f4derait, plus il se\ndiss\u00e9minerait.\nLeur seconde halte se fit \u00e0 l'aide d'un fourr\u00e9 \u00e9pais o\u00f9 se trouvait un\nvieux tronc d'arbre creux et excessivement grand: ce fut dans cet arbre\nque touts deux prirent position, r\u00e9solus d'attendre l'\u00e9v\u00e9nement.\nIl y avait peu de temps qu'ils \u00e9taient l\u00e0, quand deux Sauvages\naccoururent de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, comme s'ils les eussent d\u00e9couverts et vinssent\npour les attaquer. Un peu plus loin ils en virent trois autres, et plus\nloin encore cinq autres, touts s'avan\u00e7ant dans la m\u00eame direction; en\noutre ils en virent \u00e0 une certaine distance sept ou huit qui couraient\nd'un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9; car ils se r\u00e9pandaient sur touts les points, comme des\nchasseurs qui battent un bois en qu\u00eate du gibier.\nLes pauvres gens furent alors dans une grande perplexit\u00e9, ne sachant\ns'ils devaient rester et garder leur poste ou s'enfuir; mais apr\u00e8s une\ncourte d\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, consid\u00e9rant que si les Sauvages parcouraient ainsi\nle pays, ils pourraient peut-\u00eatre avant l'arriv\u00e9e du secours d\u00e9couvrir\nleur retraite dans les bois, et qu'alors tout serait perdu, ils\nr\u00e9solurent de les attendre l\u00e0 et, s'ils \u00e9taient trop nombreux, de monter\nau sommet de l'arbre, d'o\u00f9 ils ne doutaient pas qu'except\u00e9 contre le\nfeu, ils ne se d\u00e9fendissent tant que leurs munitions dureraient, quand\nbien m\u00eame touts les Sauvages, d\u00e9barqu\u00e9s au nombre d'environ cinquante,\nviendraient \u00e0 les attaquer.\nAyant pris cette d\u00e9termination, ils se demand\u00e8rent s'ils feraient feu\nsur les deux premiers, ou s'ils attendraient les trois et tireraient sur\nce groupe interm\u00e9diaire: tactique au moyen de laquelle les deux et les\ncinq qui suivaient seraient s\u00e9par\u00e9s. Enfin ils r\u00e9solurent de laisser\npasser les deux premiers, \u00e0 moins qu'ils ne les d\u00e9couvrissent dans leur\nrefuge et ne vinssent les attaquer. Ces deux Sauvages les confirm\u00e8rent\ndans cette r\u00e9solution en se d\u00e9tournant un peu vers une autre partie du\nbois; mais les trois et les cinq, marchant sur leur piste, vinrent\ndirectement \u00e0 l'arbre, comme s'ils eussent su que les Anglais y \u00e9taient.\nLes voyant arriver droit \u00e0 eux, ceux-ci r\u00e9solurent de les prendre en\nligne, ainsi qu'ils s'avan\u00e7aient; et, comme ils avaient d\u00e9cid\u00e9 de ne\nfaire feu qu'un \u00e0 la fois, il \u00e9tait possible que du premier coup ils les\natteignissent touts trois. \u00c0 cet effet, celui qui devait tirer mit trois\nou quatre balles dans son mousquet, et, \u00e0 la faveur d'une meurtri\u00e8re,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire d'un trou qui se trouvait dans l'arbre, il visa tout \u00e0 son\naise sans \u00eatre vu, et attendit qu'ils fussent \u00e0 trente verges de\nl'embuscade, de mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ne pas manquer son coup.\nPendant qu'ils attendaient ainsi et que les Sauvages s'approchaient, ils\nvirent que l'un des trois \u00e9tait le fugitif qui s'\u00e9tait \u00e9chapp\u00e9 de chez\neux, le reconnurent parfaitement, et r\u00e9solurent de ne pas le manquer,\ndussent-ils ensemble faire feu. L'autre se tint donc pr\u00eat \u00e0 tirer, afin\nque si le Sauvage ne tombait pas du premier coup, il f\u00fbt s\u00fbr d'en\nrecevoir un second.\nMais le premier tireur \u00e9tait trop adroit pour le manquer; car pendant\nque les Sauvages s'avan\u00e7aient l'un apr\u00e8s l'autre sur une seule ligne, il\nfit feu et en atteignit deux du coup. Le premier fut tu\u00e9 roide d'une\nballe dans la t\u00eate; le second, qui \u00e9tait l'indien fugitif, en re\u00e7ut une\nau travers du corps et tomba, mais il n'\u00e9tait pas tout-\u00e0-fait mort; et\nle troisi\u00e8me eut une \u00e9gratignure \u00e0 l'\u00e9paule, que lui fit sans doute la\nballe qui avait travers\u00e9 le corps du second. \u00c9pouvant\u00e9, quoiqu'il n'e\u00fbt\npas grand mal, il s'assit \u00e0 terre en poussant des cris et des hurlements\naffreux.\nLes cinq qui suivaient, effray\u00e9s du bruit plut\u00f4t que p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9s de leur\ndanger, s'arr\u00eat\u00e8rent tout court d'abord; car les bois rendirent la\nd\u00e9tonation mille fois plus terrible; les \u00e9chos grondant \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0, les\noiseaux s'envolant de toutes parts et poussant toutes sortes de cris,\nselon leur esp\u00e8ce; de m\u00eame que le jour o\u00f9 je tirai le premier coup de\nfusil qui peut-\u00eatre e\u00fbt retenti en ce lieu depuis que c'\u00e9tait une \u00eele.\nCependant, tout \u00e9tant rentr\u00e9 dans le silence, ils vinrent sans d\u00e9fiance,\nignorant la cause de ce bruit, jusqu'au lieu o\u00f9 \u00e9taient leurs compagnons\ndans un assez pitoyable \u00e9tat. L\u00e0 ces pauvres ignorantes cr\u00e9atures, qui\nne soup\u00e7onnaient pas qu'un danger pareil p\u00fbt les menacer, se group\u00e8rent\nautour du bless\u00e9, lui adressant la parole et sans doute lui demandant\nd'o\u00f9 venait sa blessure. Il est pr\u00e9sumable que celui-ci r\u00e9pondit qu'un\n\u00e9clair de feu, suivi imm\u00e9diatement d'un coup de tonnerre de leurs dieux,\navait tu\u00e9 ses deux compagnons et l'avait bless\u00e9 lui-m\u00eame. Cela, dis-je,\nest pr\u00e9sumable; car rien n'est plus certain qu'ils n'avaient vu aucun\nhomme aupr\u00e8s d'eux, qu'ils n'avaient de leur vie entendu la d\u00e9tonation\nd'un fusil, qu'ils ne savaient non plus ce que c'\u00e9tait qu'une arme \u00e0\nfeu, et qu'ils ignoraient qu'\u00e0 distance on p\u00fbt tuer ou blesser avec du\nfeu et des balles. S'il n'en e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi, il est croyable qu'ils\nne se fussent pas arr\u00eat\u00e9s si inconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment \u00e0 contempler le sort de\nleurs camarades, sans quelque appr\u00e9hension pour eux-m\u00eames.\nNos deux hommes, comme ils me l'ont avou\u00e9 depuis, se voyaient avec\ndouleur oblig\u00e9s de tuer tant de pauvres \u00eatres qui n'avaient aucune id\u00e9e\nde leur danger; mais, les tenant l\u00e0 sous leurs coups et le premier ayant\nrecharg\u00e9 son arme, ils se r\u00e9solurent \u00e0 tirer touts deux dessus. Convenus\nde choisir un but diff\u00e9rent, ils firent feu \u00e0 la fois et en tu\u00e8rent ou\nbless\u00e8rent gri\u00e8vement quatre. Le cinqui\u00e8me, horriblement effray\u00e9, bien\nque rest\u00e9 sauf, tomba comme les autres. Nos hommes, les voyant touts\ngisants, crurent qu'ils les avaient touts exp\u00e9di\u00e9s.\nLa persuasion de n'en avoir manqu\u00e9 aucun fit sortir r\u00e9solument de\nl'arbre nos deux hommes avant qu'ils eussent recharg\u00e9 leurs armes: et ce\nfut une grande imprudence. Ils tomb\u00e8rent dans l'\u00e9tonnement quand ils\narriv\u00e8rent sur le lieu de la sc\u00e8ne, et ne trouv\u00e8rent pas moins de quatre\nIndiens vivants, dont deux fort l\u00e9g\u00e8rement bless\u00e9s et un enti\u00e8rement\nsauf. Ils se virent alors forc\u00e9s de les achever \u00e0 coups de crosse de\nmousquet. D'abord ils s'assur\u00e8rent de l'Indien fugitif qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 la\ncause de tout le d\u00e9sastre, ainsi que d'un autre bless\u00e9 au genou, et les\nd\u00e9livr\u00e8rent de leurs peines. En ce moment celui qui n'avait point \u00e9t\u00e9\natteint vint se jeter \u00e0 leurs genoux, les deux mains lev\u00e9es, et par\ngestes et par signes implorant piteusement la vie. Mais ils ne purent\ncomprendre un seul mot de ce qu'il disait.\nD\u00c9FENSE DES DEUX ANGLAIS\nToutefois ils lui signifi\u00e8rent de s'asseoir pr\u00e8s de l\u00e0 au pied d'un\narbre, et un des Anglais, avec une corde qu'il avait dans sa poche par\nle plus grand hasard, l'attacha fortement, et lui lia les mains\npar-derri\u00e8re; puis on l'abandonna. Ils se mirent alors en toute h\u00e2te \u00e0\nla poursuite des deux autres qui \u00e9taient all\u00e9s en avant, craignant que\nceux-ci ou un plus grand nombre ne v\u00eent \u00e0 d\u00e9couvrir le chemin de leur\nretraite dans le bois, o\u00f9 \u00e9taient leurs femmes et le peu d'objets qu'ils\ny avaient d\u00e9pos\u00e9s. Ils apper\u00e7urent enfin les deux Indiens, mais ils\n\u00e9taient fort \u00e9loign\u00e9s; n\u00e9anmoins ils les virent, \u00e0 leur grande\nsatisfaction, traverser une vall\u00e9e proche de la mer, chemin directement\noppos\u00e9 \u00e0 celui qui conduisait \u00e0 leur retraite pour laquelle ils \u00e9taient\nen de si vives craintes. Tranquillis\u00e9s sur ce point, ils retourn\u00e8rent \u00e0\nl'arbre o\u00f9 ils avaient laiss\u00e9 leur prisonnier, qui, \u00e0 ce qu'ils\nsuppos\u00e8rent, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d\u00e9livr\u00e9 par ses camarades, car les deux bouts de\ncorde qui avaient servi \u00e0 l'attacher \u00e9taient encore au pied de l'arbre.\nSe trouvant alors dans un aussi grand embarras que pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment; ne\nsachant de quel c\u00f4t\u00e9 se diriger, ni \u00e0 quelle distance \u00e9tait l'ennemi, ni\nquelles \u00e9taient ses forces, ils prirent la r\u00e9solution d'aller \u00e0 la\ngrotte o\u00f9 leurs femmes avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 conduites, afin de voir si tout s'y\npassait bien, et pour les d\u00e9livrer de l'effroi o\u00f9 s\u00fbrement elles\n\u00e9taient, car, bien que les Sauvages fussent leurs compatriotes, elles en\navaient une peur horrible, et d'autant plus peut-\u00eatre qu'elles savaient\ntout ce qu'ils valaient.\nLes Anglais \u00e0 leur arriv\u00e9e virent que les Sauvages avaient pass\u00e9 dans le\nbois, et m\u00eame tr\u00e8s-pr\u00e8s du lieu de leur retraite, sans toutefois l'avoir\nd\u00e9couvert; car l'\u00e9pais fourr\u00e9 qui l'entourait en rendait l'abord\ninaccessible pour quiconque n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 guid\u00e9 par quelque affili\u00e9, et\nnos barbares ne l'\u00e9taient point. Ils trouv\u00e8rent donc toutes choses en\nbon ordre, seulement les femmes \u00e9taient glac\u00e9es d'effroi. Tandis qu'ils\n\u00e9taient l\u00e0, \u00e0 leur grande joie, sept des Espagnols arriv\u00e8rent \u00e0 leur\nsecours. Les dix autres avec leurs serviteurs, et le vieux VENDREDI, je\nveux dire le p\u00e8re de VENDREDI, \u00e9taient partis en masse pour prot\u00e9ger\nleur tonnelle et le bl\u00e9 et le b\u00e9tail qui s'y trouvaient, dans le cas o\u00f9\nles Indiens eussent r\u00f4d\u00e9 vers cette partie de l'\u00eele; mais ils ne se\nr\u00e9pandirent pas jusque l\u00e0. Avec les sept Espagnols se trouvait l'un des\ntrois Sauvages qu'ils avaient autrefois faits prisonniers, et aussi\ncelui que, pieds et poings li\u00e9s, les Anglais avaient laiss\u00e9s pr\u00e8s de\nl'arbre, car, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, les Espagnols \u00e9taient venus par le\nchemin o\u00f9 avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 massacr\u00e9s les sept Indiens, et avaient d\u00e9li\u00e9 le\nhuiti\u00e8me pour l'emmener avec eux. L\u00e0, toutefois ils furent oblig\u00e9s de le\ngarrotter de nouveau, comme l'\u00e9taient les deux autres, rest\u00e9s apr\u00e8s le\nd\u00e9part du fugitif.\nLeurs prisonniers commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 leur devenir fort \u00e0 charge, et ils\ncraignaient tellement qu'ils ne leur \u00e9chappassent, qu'ils s'imagin\u00e8rent\n\u00eatre, pour leur propre conservation, dans l'absolue n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de les\ntuer touts. Mais le gouverneur n'y voulut pas consentir; il ordonna de\nles envoyer \u00e0 ma vieille caverne de la vall\u00e9e, avec deux Espagnols pour\nles garder et pourvoir \u00e0 leur nourriture. Ce qui fut ex\u00e9cut\u00e9; et l\u00e0, ils\npass\u00e8rent la nuit pieds et mains li\u00e9s.\nL'arriv\u00e9e des Espagnols releva tellement le courage des deux Anglais,\nqu'ils n'entendirent pas s'arr\u00eater plus long-temps. Ayant pris avec eux\ncinq Espagnols, et r\u00e9unissant \u00e0 eux touts quatre mousquets, un pistolet\net deux gros b\u00e2tons \u00e0 deux bouts, ils partirent \u00e0 la recherche des\nSauvages. Et d'abord, quand ils furent arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 l'arbre o\u00f9 gisaient\nceux qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s, il leur fut ais\u00e9 de voir que quelques autres\nIndiens y \u00e9taient venus; car ils avaient essay\u00e9 d'emporter leurs morts,\net avaient tra\u00een\u00e9 deux cadavres \u00e0 une bonne distance, puis les avaient\nabandonn\u00e9s. De l\u00e0 ils gagn\u00e8rent le premier tertre o\u00f9 ils s'\u00e9taient\narr\u00eat\u00e9s et d'o\u00f9 ils avaient vu incendier leurs huttes, et ils eurent la\ndouleur de voir s'en \u00e9lever un reste de fum\u00e9e; mais ils ne purent y\nd\u00e9couvrir aucun Sauvage. Ils r\u00e9solurent alors d'aller, avec toute la\nprudence possible, vers les ruines de leur plantation. Un peu avant d'y\narriver, s'\u00e9tant trouv\u00e9s en vue de la c\u00f4te, ils apper\u00e7urent\ndistinctement touts les Sauvages qui se rembarquaient dans leurs canots\npour courir au large.\nIl semblait qu'ils fussent f\u00e2ch\u00e9s d'abord qu'il n'y e\u00fbt pas de chemin\npour aller jusqu'\u00e0 eux, afin de leur envoyer \u00e0 leur d\u00e9part une salve de\nmousqueterie; mais, apr\u00e8s tout, ils s'estim\u00e8rent fort heureux d'en \u00eatre\nd\u00e9barrass\u00e9s.\nLes pauvres Anglais \u00e9tant alors ruin\u00e9s pour la seconde fois, leurs\ncultures \u00e9tant d\u00e9truites, touts les autres convinrent de les aider \u00e0\nrelever leurs constructions, et de les pourvoir de toutes choses\nn\u00e9cessaires. Leurs trois compatriotes m\u00eame, chez lesquels jusque l\u00e0 on\nn'avait pas remarqu\u00e9 la moindre tendance \u00e0 faire le bien, d\u00e8s qu'ils\napprirent leur d\u00e9sastre,--car, vivant \u00e9loign\u00e9s, ils n'avaient rien su\nqu'apr\u00e8s l'affaire finie--, vinrent offrir leur aide et leur assistance,\net travaill\u00e8rent de grand c\u0153ur pendant plusieurs jours \u00e0 r\u00e9tablir leurs\nhabitations et \u00e0 leur fabriquer des objets de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9.\nEnviron deux jours apr\u00e8s ils eurent la satisfaction de voir trois\npirogues des Sauvages venir se jeter \u00e0 peu de distance sur la gr\u00e8ve,\nainsi que deux hommes noy\u00e9s; ce qui leur fit croire avec raison qu'une\ntemp\u00eate, qu'ils avaient d\u00fb essuyer en mer, avait submerg\u00e9 quelques-unes\nde leurs embarcations. Le vent en effet avait souffl\u00e9 avec violence\ndurant la nuit qui suivit leur d\u00e9part.\nSi quelques-uns d'entre eux s'\u00e9taient perdus, toutefois il s'en \u00e9tait\nsauv\u00e9 un assez grand nombre, pour informer leurs compatriotes de ce\nqu'ils avaient fait et de ce qui leur \u00e9tait advenu, et les exciter \u00e0 une\nautre entreprise de la m\u00eame nature, qu'ils r\u00e9solurent effectivement de\ntenter, avec des forces suffisantes pour que rien ne p\u00fbt leur r\u00e9sister.\nMais, \u00e0 l'exception de ce que le fugitif leur avait dit des habitants de\nl'\u00eele, ils n'en savaient par eux-m\u00eames que fort peu de chose; jamais ils\nn'avaient vu ombre humaine en ce lieu, et celui qui leur avait racont\u00e9\nle fait ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9, tout autre t\u00e9moin manquait qui p\u00fbt le leur\nconfirmer.\nCinq ou six mois s'\u00e9taient \u00e9coul\u00e9s, et l'on n'avait point entendu parler\ndes Sauvages; d\u00e9j\u00e0 nos gens se flattaient de l'espoir qu'ils n'avaient\npoint oubli\u00e9 leur premier \u00e9chec, et qu'ils avaient laiss\u00e9 l\u00e0 toute id\u00e9e\nde r\u00e9parer leur d\u00e9faite, quand tout-\u00e0-coup l'\u00eele fut envahie par une\nredoutable flotte de vingt-huit canots remplis de Sauvages arm\u00e9s d'arcs\net de fl\u00e8ches, d'\u00e9normes casse-t\u00eates, de sabres de bois et d'autres\ninstruments de guerre. Bref, cette multitude \u00e9tait si formidable, que\nnos gens tomb\u00e8rent dans la plus profonde consternation.\nComme le d\u00e9barquement s'\u00e9tait effectu\u00e9 le soir et \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9\norientale de l'\u00eele, nos hommes eurent toute la nuit pour se consulter et\naviser \u00e0 ce qu'il fallait faire. Et d'abord, sachant que se tenir\ntotalement cach\u00e9s avait \u00e9t\u00e9 jusque-l\u00e0 leur seule planche de salut, et\ndevait l'\u00eatre d'autant plus encore en cette conjoncture, que le nombre\nde leurs ennemis \u00e9tait fort grand, ils r\u00e9solurent de faire dispara\u00eetre\nles huttes qu'ils avaient b\u00e2ties pour les deux Anglais, et de conduire\nleurs ch\u00e8vres \u00e0 l'ancienne grotte, parce qu'ils supposaient que les\nSauvages se porteraient directement sur ce point sit\u00f4t qu'il ferait jour\npour recommencer la m\u00eame \u00e9chauffour\u00e9e, quoiqu'ils eussent pris terre\ncette fois \u00e0 plus de deux lieues de l\u00e0.\nIls men\u00e8rent aussi dans ce lieu les troupeaux qu'ils avaient \u00e0\nl'ancienne tonnelle, comme je l'appelais, laquelle appartenait aux\nEspagnols; en un mot, autant que possible, ils ne laiss\u00e8rent nulle part\nde traces d'habitation, et le lendemain matin, de bonne heure, ils se\npos\u00e8rent avec toutes leurs forces pr\u00e8s de la plantation des deux\nAnglais, pour y attendre l'arriv\u00e9e des Sauvages. Tout confirma leurs\npr\u00e9visions: ces nouveaux agresseurs, laissant leurs canots \u00e0 l'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9\norientale de l'\u00eele, s'avanc\u00e8rent au longeant le rivage droit \u00e0 cette\nplace, au nombre de deux cent cinquante, suivant que les n\u00f4tres purent\nen juger. Notre arm\u00e9e se trouvait bien faible; mais le pire de\nl'affaire, c'\u00e9tait qu'il n'y avait pas d'armes pour tout le monde. Nos\nforces totales s'\u00e9levaient, je crois, ainsi:--D'abord, en hommes:\n  17 Espagnols.\n  5 Anglais.\n  1 Le vieux VENDREDI, c'est-\u00e0-dire le p\u00e8re de VENDREDI.\n  3 Esclaves acquis avec les femmes, lesquels avaient fait preuve de fid\u00e9lit\u00e9.\n  3 Autres esclaves qui vivaient avec les Espagnols.\n  Pour armer ces gens, il y avait:\n  11 Mousquets.\n  5 Pistolets.\n  3 Fusils de chasse.\n  5 Mousquets ou arquebuses \u00e0 giboyer pris aux matelots r\u00e9volt\u00e9s que\n    j'avais soumis.\n  2 Sabres.\n  3 Vieilles hallebardes.\nOn ne donna aux esclaves ni mousquets ni fusils; mais chacun d'eux fut\narm\u00e9 d'une hallebarde, ou d'un long b\u00e2ton, semblable \u00e0 un brindestoc,\ngarni d'une longue pointe de fer \u00e0 chaque extr\u00e9mit\u00e9; ils avaient en\noutre une hachette au c\u00f4t\u00e9. Touts nos hommes portaient aussi une hache.\nDeux des femmes voulurent absolument prendre part au combat; elles\ns'arm\u00e8rent d'arcs et de fl\u00e8ches, que les Espagnols avaient pris aux\nSauvages lors de la premi\u00e8re affaire, dont j'ai parl\u00e9, et qui avait eu\nlieu entre les Indiens. Les femmes eurent aussi des haches.\nLe gouverneur espagnol, dont j'ai si souvent fait mention, avait le\ncommandement g\u00e9n\u00e9ral; et William ATKINS, qui, bien que redoutable pour\nsa m\u00e9chancet\u00e9, \u00e9tait un compagnon intr\u00e9pide et r\u00e9solu, commandait sous\nlui.--Les Sauvages s'avanc\u00e8rent comme des lions; et nos hommes, pour\ncomble de malheur, n'avaient pas l'avantage du terrain. Seulement Will\nATKINS, qui rendit dans cette affaire d'importants services, comme une\nsentinelle perdue, \u00e9tait plant\u00e9 avec six hommes, derri\u00e8re un petit\nhallier, avec ordre de laisser passer les premiers, et de faire feu\nensuite au beau milieu des autres; puis sur-le-champ de battre en\nretraite aussi vite que possible, en tournant une partie du bois pour\nvenir prendre position derri\u00e8re les Espagnols, qui se trouvaient\ncouverts par un fourr\u00e9 d'arbres.\nQuand les Sauvages arriv\u00e8rent, ils se mirent \u00e0 courir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 en masse\net sans aucun ordre. WILL ATKINS en laissa passer pr\u00e8s de lui une\ncinquantaine; puis, voyant venir les autres en foule, il ordonna \u00e0 trois\nde ses hommes de d\u00e9charger sur eux leurs mousquets charg\u00e9s de six ou\nsept balles, aussi fortes que des balles de gros pistolets. Combien en\ntu\u00e8rent-ils ou en bless\u00e8rent-ils, c'est ce qu'ils ne surent pas; mais la\nconsternation et l'\u00e9tonnement \u00e9taient inexprimables chez ces barbares,\nqui furent effray\u00e9s au plus haut degr\u00e9 d'entendre un bruit terrible, de\nvoir tomber leurs hommes morts ou bless\u00e9s, et sans comprendre d'o\u00f9 cela\nprovenait. Alors, au milieu de leur effroi, William ATKINS et ses trois\nhommes firent feu sur le plus \u00e9pais de la tourbe, et en moins d'une\nminute les trois premiers, ayant recharg\u00e9 leurs armes, leur envoy\u00e8rent\nune troisi\u00e8me vol\u00e9e.\nSi Williams ATKINS et ses hommes se fussent retir\u00e9s imm\u00e9diatement apr\u00e8s\navoir tir\u00e9, comme cela leur avait \u00e9t\u00e9 ordonn\u00e9, ou si le reste de la\ntroupe e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 port\u00e9e de prolonger le feu, les Sauvages eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\nmis en pleine d\u00e9route; car la terreur dont ils \u00e9taient saisis venait\nsurtout de ce qu'ils ne voyaient personne qui les frapp\u00e2t et de ce\nqu'ils se croyaient tu\u00e9s par le tonnerre et les \u00e9clairs de leurs dieux.\nMais William ATKINS, en restant pour recharger, d\u00e9couvrit la ruse.\nNOUVELLE INCURSION DES INDIENS\nQuelques Sauvages, qui les \u00e9piaient au loin, fondirent sur eux par\nderri\u00e8re; et, bien que ATKINS et ses hommes les eussent encore salu\u00e9s de\ndeux ou trois fusillades et en eussent tu\u00e9 plus d'une vingtaine en se\nretirant aussi vite que possible, cependant ils le bless\u00e8rent lui-m\u00eame\net tu\u00e8rent avec leurs fl\u00e8ches un de ses compatriotes comme ils tu\u00e8rent\nensuite un des Espagnols et un des esclaves indiens acquis avec les\nfemmes. Cet esclave \u00e9tait un brave compagnon, qui avait combattu en\nfurieux. De sa propre main il avait tu\u00e9 cinq Sauvages, quoiqu'il n'e\u00fbt\npour armes qu'un des b\u00e2tons ferr\u00e9s et une hache.\nATKINS \u00e9tant bless\u00e9 et deux autres \u00e9tant tu\u00e9s, nos hommes, ainsi\nmaltrait\u00e9s, se retir\u00e8rent sur un monticule dans le bois. Les Espagnols,\napr\u00e8s avoir fait trois d\u00e9charges op\u00e9r\u00e8rent aussi leur retraite; car les\nIndiens \u00e9taient si nombreux, car ils \u00e9taient si d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s, que malgr\u00e9\nqu'il y en e\u00fbt de tu\u00e9s plus de cinquante et un beaucoup plus grand\nnombre de bless\u00e9s, ils se jetaient sans peur du danger sous la dent de\nnos hommes et leur envoyaient une nu\u00e9e de fl\u00e8ches. On remarqua m\u00eame que\nleurs bless\u00e9s qui n'\u00e9taient pas tout-\u00e0-fait mis hors de combat,\nexasp\u00e9r\u00e9s par leurs blessures, se battaient comme des enrag\u00e9s.\nNos gens, dans leur retraite, avaient laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re eux les cadavres\nde l'Espagnol et de l'Anglais. Les Sauvages, quand ils furent arriv\u00e9s\naupr\u00e8s, les mutil\u00e8rent de la mani\u00e8re la plus atroce, leur brisant les\nbras, les jambes et la t\u00eate avec leurs massues et leurs sabres de bois,\ncomme de vrais Sauvages qu'ils \u00e9taient. Mais, voyant que nos hommes\navaient disparu, ils sembl\u00e8rent ne pas vouloir les poursuivre, form\u00e8rent\nune esp\u00e8ce de cercle, ce qu'ils ont coutume de faire, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet,\net pouss\u00e8rent deux grands cris en signe de victoire; apr\u00e8s quoi ils\neurent encore la mortification de voir tomber plusieurs de leurs bless\u00e9s\nqu'avait \u00e9puis\u00e9s la perte de leur sang.\nLe gouverneur espagnol ayant rassembl\u00e9 tout son petit corps d'arm\u00e9e sur\nune \u00e9minence, ATKINS, quoique bless\u00e9, opinait pour qu'on se port\u00e2t en\navant et qu'on f\u00eet une charge g\u00e9n\u00e9rale sur l'ennemi. Mais l'Espagnol\nr\u00e9pondit:--\u00abSe\u00f1or ATKINS, vous avez vu comment leurs bless\u00e9s se battent;\nremettons la partie \u00e0 demain: touts ces \u00e9clopp\u00e9s seront roidis et\nendoloris par leurs plaies, \u00e9puis\u00e9s par le sang qu'ils auront perdu, et\nnous aurons alors beaucoup moins de besogne sur les bras.\u00bb\nL'avis \u00e9tait bon. Mais WILL ATKINS reprit ga\u00eement:--\u00abC'est vrai, se\u00f1or;\nmais il en sera de m\u00eame de moi, et c'est pour cela que je voudrais aller\nen avant tandis que je suis en haleine.\u00bb--\u00abFort bien, se\u00f1or ATKINS, dit\nl'Espagnol: vous vous \u00eates conduit vaillamment, vous avez rempli votre\nt\u00e2che; nous combattrons pour vous si vous ne pouvez venir; mais je pense\nqu'il est mieux d'attendre jusqu'\u00e0 demain matin.\u00bb--Ils attendirent donc.\nMais, lorsqu'il fit un beau clair de lune, et qu'ils virent les Sauvages\ndans un grand d\u00e9sordre, au milieu de leurs morts et de leurs bless\u00e9s et\nse pressant tumultueusement \u00e0 l'entour, ils se r\u00e9solurent \u00e0 fondre sur\neux pendant la nuit, dans le cas surtout o\u00f9 ils pourraient leur envoyer\nune d\u00e9charge avant d'\u00eatre apper\u00e7us. Il s'offrit \u00e0 eux une belle occasion\npour cela: car l'un des deux Anglais, sur le terrain duquel l'affaire\ns'\u00e9tait engag\u00e9e, les ayant conduits par un d\u00e9tour entre les bois et la\nc\u00f4te occidentale, et l\u00e0 ayant tourn\u00e9 brusquement au Sud, ils arriv\u00e8rent\nsi proche du groupe le plus \u00e9pais, qu'avant qu'on e\u00fbt pu les voir ou les\nentendre, huit hommes tir\u00e8rent au beau milieu et firent une terrible\nex\u00e9cution. Une demi-minute apr\u00e8s huit autres tir\u00e8rent \u00e0 leur tour et les\ncribl\u00e8rent tellement de leurs drag\u00e9es, qu'ils en tu\u00e8rent ou bless\u00e8rent\nun grand nombre. Tout cela se passa sans qu'ils pussent reconna\u00eetre qui\nles frappait, sans qu'ils sussent par quel chemin fuir.\nLes Espagnols recharg\u00e8rent vivement leurs armes; puis, s'\u00e9tant divis\u00e9s\nen trois corps, ils r\u00e9solurent de tomber touts ensemble sur l'ennemi.\nChacun de ces pelotons se composait de huit personnes: ce qui formait en\nsomme vingt-quatre combattants, dont vingt-deux hommes et deux femmes,\nlesquelles, soit dit en passant, se battirent en d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9es.\nOn r\u00e9partit par peloton les armes \u00e0 feu, les hallebardes et les\nbrindestocs. On voulait que les femmes se tinssent derri\u00e8re, mais elles\nd\u00e9clar\u00e8rent qu'elles \u00e9taient d\u00e9cid\u00e9es \u00e0 mourir avec leurs maris. Leur\npetite arm\u00e9e ainsi dispos\u00e9e, ils sortirent d'entre les arbres et se\njet\u00e8rent sous la dent de l'ennemi en criant et en h\u00e9lant de toutes leurs\nforces. Les Indiens se tenaient l\u00e0 debout touts ensemble; mais ils\ntomb\u00e8rent dans la plus grande confusion en entendant les cris que\njetaient nos gens sur trois diff\u00e9rents points. Cependant ils en seraient\nvenus aux mains s'ils nous eussent apper\u00e7us; car \u00e0 peine f\u00fbmes-nous\nassez pr\u00e8s pour qu'ils nous vissent qu'ils nous d\u00e9coch\u00e8rent quelques\nfl\u00e8ches, et que le pauvre vieux VENDREDI fut bless\u00e9, l\u00e9g\u00e8rement\ntoutefois. Mais nos gens, sans plus de temps, fondirent sur eux, firent\nfeu de trois c\u00f4t\u00e9s, puis tomb\u00e8rent dessus \u00e0 coups de crosses de\nmousquet, \u00e0 coups de sabres, de b\u00e2tons ferr\u00e9s et de haches, et, en un\nmot, les frott\u00e8rent si bien, qu'ils se mirent \u00e0 pousser des cris et des\nhurlements sinistres en s'enfuyant de touts c\u00f4t\u00e9s pour \u00e9chapper \u00e0 la\nmort.\nLes n\u00f4tres \u00e9taient fatigu\u00e9s de ce carnage: ils avaient tu\u00e9 ou bless\u00e9\nmortellement, dans les deux rencontres, environ cent quatre-vingts de\nces barbares. Les autres, \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s, se sauv\u00e8rent \u00e0 travers les bois et\nsur les collines, avec toute la vitesse que pouvaient leur donner la\nfrayeur et des pieds agiles; et, voyant que nos hommes se mettaient peu\nen peine de les poursuivre, ils se rassembl\u00e8rent sur la c\u00f4te o\u00f9 ils\navaient d\u00e9barqu\u00e9 et o\u00f9 leurs canots \u00e9taient amarr\u00e9s. Mais leur d\u00e9sastre\nn'\u00e9tait pas encore au bout: car, ce soir-l\u00e0, un vent terrible s'\u00e9leva de\nla mer, et il leur fut impossible de prendre le large. Pour surcro\u00eet, la\ntemp\u00eate ayant dur\u00e9 toute la nuit, \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e montante la plupart de\nleurs pirogues furent entra\u00een\u00e9es par la houle si avant sur la rive,\nqu'il aurait fallu bien des efforts pour les remettre \u00e0 flot.\nQuelques-unes m\u00eame furent bris\u00e9es contre le rivage, ou en\ns'entre-choquant.\nNos hommes, bien que joyeux de leur victoire, ne prirent cependant que\npeu de repos cette nuit-l\u00e0. Mais, apr\u00e8s s'\u00eatre refaits le mieux qu'ils\npurent, ils r\u00e9solurent de se porter vers cette partie de l'\u00eele o\u00f9 les\nSauvages avaient fui, afin de voir dans quel \u00e9tat ils \u00e9taient. Ceci les\nmena n\u00e9cessairement sur le lieu du combat, o\u00f9 ils trouv\u00e8rent plusieurs\nde ces pauvres cr\u00e9atures qui respiraient encore, mais que rien n'aurait\npu sauver. Triste spectacle pour des c\u0153urs g\u00e9n\u00e9reux! car un homme\nvraiment noble, quoique forc\u00e9 par les lois de la guerre de d\u00e9truire son\nennemi, ne prend point plaisir \u00e0 ses souffrances.\nTout ordre, du reste, \u00e9tait inutile \u00e0 cet \u00e9gard, car les Sauvages que\nles n\u00f4tres avaient \u00e0 leur service d\u00e9p\u00each\u00e8rent ces pauvres cr\u00e9atures \u00e0\ncoups de haches.\nIls arriv\u00e8rent enfin en vue du lieu o\u00f9 les ch\u00e9tifs d\u00e9bris le l'arm\u00e9e\nindienne \u00e9taient rassembl\u00e9s. L\u00e0 restait environ une centaine d'hommes,\ndont la plupart \u00e9taient assis \u00e0 terre, accroupis, la t\u00eate entre leurs\nmains et appuy\u00e9e sur leurs genoux.\nQuand nos gens ne furent plus qu'\u00e0 deux port\u00e9es de mousquet des vaincus,\nle gouverneur espagnol ordonna de tirer deux coups \u00e0 poudre pour leur\ndonner l'alarme, \u00e0 dessein de voir par leur contenance ce qu'il avait \u00e0\nen attendre, s'ils \u00e9taient encore dispos\u00e9s \u00e0 combattre ou s'ils \u00e9taient\nd\u00e9mont\u00e9s au point d'\u00eatre abattus et d\u00e9courag\u00e9s, et afin d'agir en\ncons\u00e9quence.\nLe stratag\u00e8me eut un plein succ\u00e8s; car les Sauvages n'eurent pas plus\nt\u00f4t entendu le premier coup de feu et vu la lueur du second qu'ils se\ndress\u00e8rent sur leurs pieds dans la plus grande consternation imaginable;\net, comme nos gens se pr\u00e9cipitaient sur eux, ils s'enfuirent criant,\nhurlant et poussant une sorte de mugissement que nos hommes ne\ncomprirent pas et n'avaient point ou\u00ef jusque l\u00e0, et ils se r\u00e9fugi\u00e8rent\nsur les hauteurs plus avant dans le pays.\nLes n\u00f4tres eussent d'abord pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 que le temps e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 calme et que les\nSauvages se fussent rembarqu\u00e9s. Mais ils ne consid\u00e9raient pas alors que\ncela pourrait en amener par la suite des multitudes auxquelles il leur\nserait impossible de r\u00e9sister, ou du moins \u00eatre la cause d'incursions si\nredoutables et si fr\u00e9quentes qu'elles d\u00e9soleraient l'\u00eele et les feraient\np\u00e9rir de faim. WILL ATKINS, qui, malgr\u00e9 sa blessure, se tenait toujours\navec eux, se montra, dans cette occurrence, le meilleur conseiller: il\nfallait, selon lui, saisir l'occasion qui s'offrait de se jeter entre\neux, et leurs canots, et, par l\u00e0, les emp\u00eacher \u00e0 jamais, de revenir\ninqui\u00e9ter l'\u00eele.\nOn tint long-temps conseil sur ce point. Quelques-uns s'opposaient \u00e0\ncela, de peur qu'on ne for\u00e7\u00e2t ces mis\u00e9rables \u00e0 se retirer dans les bois,\net \u00e0 n'\u00e9couter que leur d\u00e9sespoir.--\u00abDans ce cas, disaient-ils, nous\nserons oblig\u00e9s de leur donner la chasse comme \u00e0 des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces; nous\nredouterons de sortir pour nos travaux; nous aurons nos plantations\nincessamment pill\u00e9es, nos troupeaux d\u00e9truits, bref nous serons r\u00e9duits \u00e0\nune vie de mis\u00e8res continuelles.\u00bb\nWILL ATKINS r\u00e9pondit que mieux valait avoir affaire \u00e0 cent hommes qu'\u00e0\ncent nations; que s'il fallait d\u00e9truire les canots il fallait aussi\nd\u00e9truire les hommes, sinon \u00eatre soi-m\u00eame d\u00e9truit. En un mot, il leur\nd\u00e9montra cette n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 d'une mani\u00e8re si palpable, qu'ils se rang\u00e8rent\ntouts \u00e0 son avis. Aussit\u00f4t ils se mirent \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre sur les pirogues, et,\narrachant du bois sec d'un arbre mort, ils essay\u00e8rent de mettre le feu \u00e0\nquelques-unes de ces embarcations; mais elles \u00e9taient si humides\nqu'elles purent \u00e0 peine br\u00fbler. N\u00e9anmoins, le feu endommagea tellement\nleurs parties sup\u00e9rieures, qu'elles furent bient\u00f4t hors d'\u00e9tat de tenir\nla mer. Quand les Indiens virent \u00e0 quoi nos hommes \u00e9taient occup\u00e9s,\nquelques-uns d'entre eux sortirent des bois en toute h\u00e2te, et,\ns'approchant le plus qu'ils purent, ils se jet\u00e8rent \u00e0 genoux et se\nmirent \u00e0 crier:--\u00abOa, oa, waramokoa!\u00bb et \u00e0 prof\u00e9rer quelques autres mots\nde leur langue que personne ne comprit; mais, comme ils faisaient des\ngestes piteux et poussaient des cris \u00e9tranges, il fut ais\u00e9 de\nreconna\u00eetre qu'ils suppliaient pour qu'on \u00e9pargn\u00e2t leurs canots, et\nqu'ils promettaient de s'en aller pour ne plus revenir.\nMais nos gens \u00e9taient alors convaincus qu'ils n'avaient d'autre moyen de\nse conserver ou de sauver leur \u00e9tablissement que d'emp\u00eacher \u00e0 tout\njamais les Indiens de revenir dans l'\u00eele, sachant bien que s'il arrivait\nseulement \u00e0 l'un d'eux de retourner parmi les siens pour leur conter\nl'\u00e9v\u00e9nement, c'en \u00e9tait fait de la colonie. En cons\u00e9quence, faisant\ncomprendre aux Indiens qu'il n'y avait pas de merci pour eux, ils se\nremirent l'\u0153uvre et d\u00e9truisirent les canots que la temp\u00eate avait\n\u00e9pargn\u00e9s. \u00c0 cette vue les Sauvages firent retentir les bois d'un\nhorrible cri que notre monde entendit assez distinctement; puis ils se\nmirent \u00e0 courir \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans l'\u00eele comme des insens\u00e9s, de sorte que nos\ncolons ne surent r\u00e9ellement pas d'abord comment s'y prendre avec eux.\nLes Espagnols, avec toute leur prudence, n'avaient pas pens\u00e9 que tandis\nqu'ils r\u00e9duisaient ainsi ces hommes au d\u00e9sespoir, ils devaient faire\nbonne garde autour de leurs plantations; car, bien qu'ils eussent\ntransf\u00e9r\u00e9 leur b\u00e9tail et que les Indiens n'eussent pas d\u00e9terr\u00e9 leur\nprincipale retraite,--je veux dire mon vieux ch\u00e2teau de la colline,--ni\nla caverne dans la vall\u00e9e, ceux-ci avaient d\u00e9couvert cependant ma\nplantation de la tonnelle, l'avaient saccag\u00e9e, ainsi que les enclos et\nles cultures d'alentour, foulant aux pieds le bl\u00e9, arrachant les vignes\net les raisins d\u00e9j\u00e0 presque m\u00fbrs; et faisant \u00e9prouver \u00e0 la colonie une\nperte inestimable sans en retirer aucun profit.\nQuoique nos gens pussent les combattre en toute occasion, ils n'\u00e9taient\npas en \u00e9tat de les poursuivre et de les pourchasser; car, les Indiens\n\u00e9tant trop agiles pour nos hommes quand ils les rencontraient seuls,\naucun des n\u00f4tres n'osait s'aventurer isol\u00e9ment, dans la crainte d'\u00eatre\nenvelopp\u00e9 par eux. Fort heureusement ils \u00e9taient sans armes: ils avaient\ndes arcs, il est vrai, mais point de fl\u00e8ches, ni mat\u00e9riaux pour en\nfaire, ni outils, ni instruments tranchants.\nMORT DE FAIM!...\nL'extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 et la d\u00e9tresse o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9duits \u00e9taient grandes et\nvraiment d\u00e9plorables; mais l'\u00e9tat o\u00f9 ils avaient jet\u00e9 nos colons ne\nvalait pas mieux: car, malgr\u00e9 que leurs retraites eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\npr\u00e9serv\u00e9es, leurs provisions \u00e9taient d\u00e9truites et leur moisson ravag\u00e9e.\nQue faire, \u00e0 quels moyens recourir? Ils ne le savaient. La seule\nressource qui leur rest\u00e2t c'\u00e9tait le b\u00e9tail qu'ils avaient dans la\nvall\u00e9e pr\u00e8s de la caverne, le peu de bl\u00e9 qui y croissait et la\nplantation des trois Anglais, WILL ATKINS et ses camarades, alors\nr\u00e9duits \u00e0 deux, l'un d'entre eux ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 frapp\u00e9 \u00e0 la t\u00eate, juste\nau-dessous de la tempe, par une fl\u00e8che qui l'avait fait taire \u00e0 jamais.\nEt, chose remarquable, celui-ci \u00e9tait ce m\u00eame homme cruel qui avait\nport\u00e9 un coup de hache au pauvre esclave Indien, et qui ensuite avait\nform\u00e9 le projet d'assassiner les Espagnols.\n\u00c0 mon sens, la condition de nos colons \u00e9tait pire en ce temps-l\u00e0 que ne\nl'avait jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 la mienne depuis que j'eus d\u00e9couvert les grains\nd'orge et de riz, et que j'eus acquis la m\u00e9thode de semer et de cultiver\nmon bl\u00e9 et d'\u00e9lever mon b\u00e9tail; car alors ils avaient, pour ainsi dire,\nune centaine de loups dans l'\u00eele, pr\u00eats \u00e0 faire leur proie de tout ce\nqu'ils pourraient saisir, mais qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas facile de saisir\neux-m\u00eames.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose qu'ils r\u00e9solurent de faire, quand ils virent la\nsituation o\u00f9 ils se trouvaient, ce fut, s'il \u00e9tait possible, de rel\u00e9guer\nles Sauvages dans la partie la plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e de l'\u00eele, au Sud-Est; afin\nque si d'autres Indiens venaient \u00e0 descendre au rivage, ils ne pussent\nles rencontrer; puis, une fois l\u00e0, de les traquer, de les harasser\nchaque jour, et de tuer touts ceux qu'ils pourraient approcher, jusqu'\u00e0\nce qu'ils eussent r\u00e9duit leur nombre; et s'ils pouvaient enfin les\napprivoiser et les rendre propres \u00e0 quelque chose, de leur donner du\nbl\u00e9, et de leur enseigner \u00e0 cultiver la terre et \u00e0 vivre de leur travail\njournalier.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, ils les serr\u00e8rent de pr\u00e8s et les \u00e9pouvant\u00e8rent tellement\npar le bruit de leurs armes, qu'au bout de peu de temps, si un des\ncolons tirait sur un Indien et le manquait, n\u00e9anmoins il tombait de\npeur. Leur effroi fut si grand qu'ils s'\u00e9loign\u00e8rent de plus en plus, et\nque, harcel\u00e9s par nos gens, qui touts les jours en tuaient ou blessaient\nquelques-uns, ils se confin\u00e8rent tellement dans les bois et dans les\nendroits creux, que le manque de nourriture les r\u00e9duisit \u00e0 la plus\nhorrible mis\u00e8re, et qu'on en trouva plusieurs morts dans les bois, sans\naucune blessure, que la faim seule avait fait p\u00e9rir.\nQuand les n\u00f4tres trouv\u00e8rent ces cadavres, leurs c\u0153urs s'attendrirent, et\nils se sentirent \u00e9mus de compassion, surtout le gouverneur espagnol, qui\n\u00e9tait l'homme du caract\u00e8re le plus noblement g\u00e9n\u00e9reux que de ma vie\nj'aie jamais rencontr\u00e9. Il proposa, si faire se pouvait, d'attraper\nvivant un de ces malheureux, et de l'amener \u00e0 comprendre assez leur\ndessein pour qu'il p\u00fbt servir d'interpr\u00e8te aupr\u00e8s des autres, et savoir\nd'eux s'ils n'acquiesceraient pas \u00e0 quelque condition qui leur\nassurerait la vie, et garantirait la colonie du pillage.\nIl s'\u00e9coula quelque temps avant qu'on p\u00fbt en prendre aucun; mais, comme\nils \u00e9taient faibles et ext\u00e9nu\u00e9s, l'un d'eux fut enfin surpris et fait\nprisonnier. Il se montra d'abord r\u00e9tif, et ne voulut ni manger ni boire;\nmais, se voyant trait\u00e9 avec bont\u00e9, voyant qu'on lui donnait des\naliments, et qu'il n'avait \u00e0 supporter aucune violence, il finit par\ndevenir plus maniable et par se rassurer.\nOn lui amena le vieux VENDREDI, qui s'entretint souvent avec lui et lui\ndit combien les n\u00f4tres seraient bons envers touts les siens; que\nnon-seulement ils auraient la vie sauve, mais encore qu'on leur\naccorderait pour demeure une partie de l'\u00eele, pourvu qu'ils donnassent\nl'assurance qu'ils garderaient leurs propres limites, et qu'ils ne\nviendraient pas au-del\u00e0 pour faire tort ou pour faire outrage aux\ncolons; enfin qu'on leur donnerait du bl\u00e9 qu'ils s\u00e8meraient et\ncultiveraient pour leurs besoins, et du pain pour leur subsistance\npr\u00e9sente.--Ensuite le vieux VENDREDI commanda au Sauvage d'aller trouver\nses compatriotes et de voir ce qu'ils penseraient de la proposition, lui\naffirmant que s'ils n'y adh\u00e9raient imm\u00e9diatement, ils seraient touts\nd\u00e9truits.\nCes pauvres gens, profond\u00e9ment abattus et r\u00e9duits au nombre de d'environ\ntrente-sept, accueillirent tout d'abord cette offre, et pri\u00e8rent qu'on\nleur donn\u00e2t quelque nourriture. L\u00e0-dessus douze Espagnols et deux\nAnglais, bien arm\u00e9s, avec trois esclaves indiens et le vieux VENDREDI,\nse transport\u00e8rent au lieu o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient: les trois esclaves indiens\ncharriaient une grande quantit\u00e9 de pain, du riz cuit en g\u00e2teaux et s\u00e9ch\u00e9\nau soleil, et trois ch\u00e8vres vivantes. On enjoignit \u00e0 ces infortun\u00e9s de\nse rendre sur le versant d'une colline, o\u00f9 ils s'assirent pour manger\navec beaucoup de reconnaissance. Ils furent plus fid\u00e8les \u00e0 leur parole\nqu'on ne l'aurait pens\u00e9; car, except\u00e9 quand ils venaient demander des\nvivres et des instructions, jamais ils ne pass\u00e8rent leurs limites. C'est\nl\u00e0 qu'ils vivaient encore lors de mon arriv\u00e9e dans l'\u00eele, et que j'allai\nles visiter.\nLes colons leur avaient appris \u00e0 semer le bl\u00e9, \u00e0 faire le pain, \u00e0 \u00e9lever\ndes ch\u00e8vres, et \u00e0 les traire. Rien ne leur manquait que des femmes pour\ndevenir bient\u00f4t une nation. Ils \u00e9taient confin\u00e9s sur une langue de\nterre; derri\u00e8re eux s'\u00e9levaient des rochers, et devant eux une vaste\nplaine se prolongeait vers la mer, \u00e0 la pointe Sud-Est de l'\u00eele. Leur\nterrain \u00e9tait bon et fertile et ils en avaient suffisamment; car il\ns'\u00e9tendait d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 sur une largeur d'un mille et demi, et de l'autre\nsur une longueur de trois ou quatre milles.\nNos hommes leur enseign\u00e8rent aussi \u00e0 faire des b\u00eaches en bois, comme\nj'en avais fait pour mon usage, et leur donn\u00e8rent douze hachettes et\ntrois ou quatre couteaux; et, l\u00e0, ils v\u00e9curent comme les plus soumises\net les plus innocentes cr\u00e9atures que jamais on n'e\u00fbt su voir.\nLa colonie jouit apr\u00e8s cela d'une parfaite tranquillit\u00e9 quant aux\nSauvages, jusqu'\u00e0 la nouvelle visite que je lui fis, environ deux ans\napr\u00e8s. Ce n'est pas que de temps \u00e0 autre quelques canots de Sauvages\nn'abordassent \u00e0 l'\u00eele pour la c\u00e9l\u00e9bration barbare de leurs triomphes;\nmais, comme ils appartenaient \u00e0 diverses nations, et que, peut-\u00eatre, ils\nn'avaient point entendu parler de ceux qui \u00e9taient venus pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment\ndans l'\u00eele, ou que peut-\u00eatre ils ignoraient la cause de leur venue, ils\nne firent, \u00e0 l'\u00e9gard de leurs compatriotes, aucune recherche, et, en\neussent-ils fait, il leur e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fort difficile de les d\u00e9couvrir.\nVoici que j'ai donn\u00e9, ce me semble, la relation compl\u00e8te de ce qui \u00e9tait\narriv\u00e9 \u00e0 nos colons jusqu'\u00e0 mon retour, au moins de ce qui \u00e9tait digne\nde remarque.--Ils avaient merveilleusement civilis\u00e9 les Indiens ou\nSauvages, et allaient souvent les visiter; mais ils leur d\u00e9fendaient,\nsous peine de mort, de venir parmi eux, afin que leur \u00e9tablissement ne\nf\u00fbt pas livr\u00e9 derechef.\nUne chose vraiment notable, c'est que les Sauvages, \u00e0 qui ils avaient\nappris \u00e0 faire des paniers et de la vannerie, surpass\u00e8rent bient\u00f4t leurs\nma\u00eetres. Ils tress\u00e8rent une multitude de choses les plus ing\u00e9nieuses,\nsurtout des corbeilles de toute esp\u00e8ce, des cribles, des cages \u00e0\noiseaux, des buffets, ainsi que des chaises pour s'asseoir, des\nescabelles, des lits, des couchettes et beaucoup d'autres choses encore;\ncar ils d\u00e9ployaient dans ce genre d'ouvrage une adresse remarquable,\nquand une fois on les avait mis sur la voie.\nMon arriv\u00e9 leur fut d'un grand secours, en ce que nous les\napprovisionn\u00e2mes de couteaux, de ciseaux, de b\u00eaches, de pelles, de\npioches et de toutes choses semblables dont ils pouvaient avoir besoin.\nIls devinrent tellement adroits \u00e0 l'aide de ces outils, qu'ils\nparvinrent \u00e0 se b\u00e2tir de fort jolies huttes ou maisonnettes, dont ils\ntressaient et arrondissaient les contours comme \u00e0 de la vannerie; vrais\nchefs-d'\u0153uvre d'industrie et d'un aspect fort bizarre, mais qui les\nprot\u00e9geaient efficacement contre la chaleur et contre toutes sortes\nd'insectes. Nos hommes en \u00e9taient tellement \u00e9pris, qu'ils invit\u00e8rent la\ntribu sauvage \u00e0 les venir voir et \u00e0 s'en construire de pareilles. Aussi,\nquand j'allai visiter la colonie des deux Anglais, ces planteurs me\nfirent-ils de loin l'effet de vivre comme des abeilles dans une ruche.\nQuant \u00e0 WILL ATKINS, qui \u00e9tait devenu un gar\u00e7on industrieux, laborieux\net r\u00e9gl\u00e9, il s'\u00e9tait fait une tente en vannerie, comme on n'en avait, je\npense, jamais vu. Elle avait cent vingt pas de tour \u00e0 l'ext\u00e9rieur, je la\nmesurai moi-m\u00eame. Les murailles \u00e9taient \u00e0 brins aussi serr\u00e9s que ceux\nd'un panier, et se composaient de trente-deux panneaux ou carr\u00e9s,\ntr\u00e8s-solides, d'environ sept pieds de hauteur. Au milieu s'en trouvait\nune autre, qui n'avait pas plus de vingt-deux pas de circonf\u00e9rence, mais\nd'une construction encore plus solide, car elle \u00e9tait divis\u00e9e en huit\npans, aux huit angles desquels se trouvaient huit forts poteaux. Sur\nleur sommet il avait plac\u00e9 de grosses charpentes, jointes ensemble au\nmoyen de chevilles de bois, et d'o\u00f9 il avait \u00e9lev\u00e9 pour la couverture\nune pyramide de huit chevrons fort \u00e9l\u00e9gante, je vous l'assure, et\nparfaitement assembl\u00e9e, quoiqu'il n'e\u00fbt pas de clous, mais seulement\nquelques broches de fer qu'il s'\u00e9tait faites avec la ferraille que\nj'avais laiss\u00e9e dans l'\u00eele. Cet adroit gar\u00e7on donna vraiment des preuves\nd'une grande industrie en beaucoup de choses dont la connaissance lui\nmanquait. Il se fit une forge et une paire de soufflets en bois pour\nattiser le feu; il se fabriqua encore le charbon qu'en exigeait l'usage;\net d'une pince de fer, il fit une enclume fort passable. Cela le mit \u00e0\nm\u00eame de fa\u00e7onner une foule de choses, des crochets, des g\u00e2ches, des\npointes, des verroux et des gonds.--Mais revenons \u00e0 sa case. Apr\u00e8s qu'il\neut pos\u00e9 le comble de la tente int\u00e9rieure, il remplit les entrevous des\nchevrons au moyen d'un treillis si solide et qu'il recouvrit si\ning\u00e9nieusement de paille de riz, et au sommet d'une large feuille d'un\ncertain arbre, que sa maison \u00e9tait tout aussi \u00e0 l'abri de l'humidit\u00e9 que\nsi elle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 couverte en tuiles ou en ardoises. Il m'avoua, il est\nvrai, que les Sauvages lui avaient fait la vannerie.\nL'enceinte ext\u00e9rieure \u00e9tait couverte, comme une galerie, tout autour de\nla rotonde int\u00e9rieure; et de grands chevrons s'\u00e9tendaient de trente-deux\nangles au sommet des poteaux de l'habitation du milieu, \u00e9loign\u00e9e\nd'environ vingt pieds; de sorte qu'il y avait entre le mur de clayonnage\next\u00e9rieur et le mur int\u00e9rieur un espace, semblable \u00e0 un promenoir, de la\nlargeur de vingt pieds \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s.\nIl avait divis\u00e9 la place int\u00e9rieure avec un pareil clayonnage, mais\nbeaucoup plus d\u00e9licat, et l'avait distribu\u00e9e en six logements, ou\nchambres de plain-pied, ayant d'abord chacune une porte donnant\next\u00e9rieurement sur l'entr\u00e9e ou passage conduisant \u00e0 la tente principale;\npuis une autre sur l'espace ou promenoir qui r\u00e9gnait au pourtour; de\nmani\u00e8re que ce promenoir \u00e9tait aussi divis\u00e9 en six parties \u00e9gales, qui\nservaient non-seulement de retraites, mais encore \u00e0 entreposer toutes\nles choses n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 la famille. Ces six espaces n'occupant point\ntoute la circonf\u00e9rence, les autres logements de la galerie \u00e9taient\ndispos\u00e9s ainsi: Aussit\u00f4t que vous aviez pass\u00e9 la porte de l'enceinte\next\u00e9rieure, vous aviez droit devant vous un petit passage conduisant \u00e0\nla porte de la case int\u00e9rieure; de chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 \u00e9tait une cloison de\nclayonnage, avec une porte par laquelle vous p\u00e9n\u00e9triez d'abord dans une\nvaste chambre ou magasin, de vingt pieds de large sur environ trente de\nlong, et de l\u00e0 dans une autre un peu moins longue. Ainsi, dans le\npourtour il y avait dix belles chambres, six desquelles n'avaient entr\u00e9e\nque par les logements de la tente int\u00e9rieure, et servaient de cabinets\nou de retraits \u00e0 chaque chambre respective de cette tente, et quatre\ngrands magasins, ou granges, ou comme il vous plaira de les appeler,\ndeux de chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 du passage qui conduisait de la porte d'entr\u00e9e \u00e0 la\nrotonde int\u00e9rieure, et donnant l'un dans l'autre.\nHABITATION DE WILLIAM ATKINS\nUn pareil morceau de vannerie, je crois, n'a jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 vu dans le\nmonde, pas plus qu'une maison ou tente si bien con\u00e7ue, surtout b\u00e2tie\ncomme cela. Dans cette grande ruche habitaient les trois familles,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire WILL ATKINS et ses compagnons; le troisi\u00e8me avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9,\nmais sa femme restait avec trois enfants,--elle \u00e9tait, \u00e0 ce qu'il\npara\u00eet, enceinte lorsqu'il mourut. Les deux survivants ne n\u00e9gligeaient\npas de fournir la veuve de toutes choses, j'entends de bl\u00e9, de lait, de\nraisins, et de lui faire bonne part quand ils tuaient un chevreau ou\ntrouvaient une tortue sur le rivage; de sorte qu'ils vivaient touts\nassez bien, quoiqu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 ceux-ci ne fussent pas aussi industrieux\nque les deux autres, comme je l'ai fait observer d\u00e9j\u00e0.\nIl est une chose qui toutefois ne saurait \u00eatre omise; c'est, qu'en fait\nde religion, je ne sache pas qu'il exist\u00e2t rien de semblable parmi eux.\nIl est vrai qu'assez souvent ils se faisaient souvenir l'un l'autre\nqu'il est un Dieu, mais c'\u00e9tait purement par la commune m\u00e9thode des\nmarins, c'est-\u00e0-dire en blasph\u00e9mant son nom. Leurs femmes, pauvres\nignorantes Sauvages, n'en \u00e9taient pas beaucoup plus \u00e9clair\u00e9es pour \u00eatre\nmari\u00e9es \u00e0 des Chr\u00e9tiens, si on peut les appeler ainsi, car eux-m\u00eames,\nayant fort peu de notions de Dieu, se trouvaient profond\u00e9ment incapables\nd'entrer en discours avec elles sur la Divinit\u00e9, ou de leur parler de\nrien qui concern\u00e2t la religion.\nLe plus grand profit qu'elles avaient, je puis dire, retir\u00e9 de leur\nalliance, c'\u00e9tait d'avoir appris de leurs maris \u00e0 parler passablement\nl'anglais. Touts leurs enfants, qui pouvaient bien \u00eatre une vingtaine,\napprenaient de m\u00eame \u00e0 s'exprimer en anglais d\u00e8s leurs premiers\nb\u00e9gaiements, quoiqu'ils ne fissent d'abord que l'\u00e9corcher, comme leurs\nm\u00e8res. Pas un de ces enfants n'avait plus de six ans quand j'arrivai,\ncar il n'y en avait pas beaucoup plus de sept que ces cinq _ladys_\nsauvages avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 amen\u00e9es; mais toutes s'\u00e9taient trouv\u00e9es f\u00e9condes,\ntoutes avaient des enfants, plus ou moins. La femme du cuisinier en\nsecond \u00e9tait, je crois, grosse de son sixi\u00e8me. Ces m\u00e8res \u00e9taient toutes\nd'une heureuse nature, paisibles, laborieuses, modestes et d\u00e9centes,\ns'aidant l'une l'autre, parfaitement ob\u00e9issantes et soumises \u00e0 leurs\nma\u00eetres, je ne puis dire \u00e0 leurs maris. Il ne leur manquait rien que\nd'\u00eatre bien instruites dans la religion chr\u00e9tienne et d'\u00eatre\nl\u00e9gitimement mari\u00e9es, avantages dont heureusement dans la suite elles\njouirent par mes soins, ou du moins par les cons\u00e9quences de ma venue\ndans l'\u00eele.\nAyant ainsi parl\u00e9 de la colonie en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral et assez longuement de mes\ncinq chenapans d'Anglais, je dois dire quelque chose des Espagnols, qui\nformaient le principal corps de la famille, et dont l'histoire offre\naussi quelques incidents assez remarquables.\nJ'eus de nombreux entretiens avec eux sur ce qu'\u00e9tait leur situation\ndurant leur s\u00e9jour parmi les Sauvages. Ils m'avou\u00e8rent franchement\nqu'ils n'avaient aucune preuve \u00e0 donner de leur savoir-faire ou de leur\nindustrie dans ce pays; qu'ils n'\u00e9taient l\u00e0 qu'une pauvre poign\u00e9e\nd'hommes mis\u00e9rables et abattus; que, quand bien m\u00eame ils eussent eu des\nressources entre les mains, ils ne s'en seraient pas moins abandonn\u00e9s au\nd\u00e9sespoir; et qu'ils ployaient tellement sous le poids de leurs\ninfortunes, qu'ils ne songeaient qu'\u00e0 se laisser mourir de faim.--Un\nd'entre eux, personnage grave et judicieux, me dit qu'il \u00e9tait convaincu\nqu'ils avaient eu tort; qu'\u00e0 des hommes sages il n'appartient pas de\ns'abandonner \u00e0 leur mis\u00e8re, mais de se saisir incessamment des secours\nque leur offre la raison, tant pour l'existence pr\u00e9sente que pour la\nd\u00e9livrance future.--\u00abLe chagrin, ajouta-t-il, est la plus insens\u00e9e et la\nplus insignifiante passion du monde, parce qu'elle n'a pour objet que\nles choses pass\u00e9es, qui sont en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral irr\u00e9vocables ou irr\u00e9m\u00e9diables;\nparce qu'elle n'embrasse point l'avenir, qu'elle n'entre pour rien dans\nce qui touche le salut, et qu'elle ajoute plut\u00f4t \u00e0 l'affliction qu'elle\nn'y apporte rem\u00e8de.\u00bb--L\u00e0-dessus il cita un proverbe espagnol que je ne\npuis r\u00e9p\u00e9ter dans les m\u00eames termes, mais dont je me souviens avoir\nhabill\u00e9 \u00e0 ma fa\u00e7on un proverbe anglais, que voici:\n    _Dans le trouble soyez troubl\u00e9,_\n    _Votre trouble sera doubl\u00e9._\nEnsuite il abonda en remarques sur toutes les petites am\u00e9liorations que\nj'avais introduites dans ma solitude, sur mon infatigable industrie,\ncomme il l'appelait, et sur la mani\u00e8re dont j'avais rendu une condition,\npar ses circonstances d'abord pire que la leur, mille fois plus heureuse\nque celle dans laquelle ils \u00e9taient, m\u00eame alors, o\u00f9 ils se trouvaient\ntouts ensemble. Il me dit qu'il \u00e9tait \u00e0 remarquer que les Anglais\navaient une plus grande pr\u00e9sence d'esprit dans la d\u00e9tresse que tout\nautre peuple qu'il e\u00fbt jamais vu; que ses malheureux compatriotes, ainsi\nque les Portugais, \u00e9taient la pire esp\u00e8ce d'hommes de l'univers pour\nlutter contre l'adversit\u00e9; parce que dans les p\u00e9rils, une fois les\nefforts vulgaires tent\u00e9s, leur premier pas \u00e9tait de se livrer au\nd\u00e9sespoir, de succomber sous lui et de mourir sans tourner leurs pens\u00e9es\nvers des voies de salut.\nJe lui r\u00e9pliquai que leur cas et le mien diff\u00e9raient extr\u00eamement; qu'ils\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9s sur le rivage priv\u00e9s de toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires, et\nsans provisions pour subsister jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils pussent se pourvoir;\nqu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 j'avais eu ce d\u00e9savantage et cette affliction d'\u00eatre\nseul; mais que les secours providentiellement jet\u00e9s dans mes mains par\nle bris inopin\u00e9 du navire, \u00e9taient un si grand r\u00e9confort, qu'il aurait\npouss\u00e9 tout homme au monde \u00e0 s'ing\u00e9nier comme je l'avais fait.--\u00abSe\u00f1or,\nreprit l'Espagnol, si nous pauvres Castillans eussions \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 votre\nplace, nous n'eussions pas tir\u00e9 du vaisseau la moiti\u00e9 de ces choses que\nvous s\u00fbtes en tirer; jamais nous n'aurions trouv\u00e9 le moyen de nous\nprocurer un radeau pour les transporter, ni de conduire un radeau \u00e0\nterre sans l'aide d'une chaloupe ou d'une voile; et \u00e0 plus forte raison\npas un de nous ne l'e\u00fbt fait s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 seul.\u00bb--Je le priai de faire\ntr\u00eave \u00e0 son compliment, et de poursuivre l'histoire de leur venue dans\nl'endroit o\u00f9 ils avaient abord\u00e9. Il me dit qu'ils avaient pris terre\nmalheureusement en un lieu o\u00f9 il y avait des habitants sans provisions;\ntandis que s'ils eussent eu le bon sens de remettre en mer et d'aller \u00e0\nune autre \u00eele un peu plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e, ils auraient trouv\u00e9 des provisions\nsans habitants. En effet, dans ce parage, comme on le leur avait dit,\n\u00e9tait situ\u00e9e une \u00eele riche en comestibles, bien que d\u00e9serte,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire que les Espagnols de la Trinit\u00e9, l'ayant visit\u00e9e\nfr\u00e9quemment, l'avaient remplie \u00e0 diff\u00e9rentes fois de ch\u00e8vres et de\nporcs. L\u00e0 ces animaux avaient multipli\u00e9 de telle sorte, l\u00e0 tortues et\noiseaux de mer \u00e9taient en telle abondance, qu'ils n'eussent pas manqu\u00e9\nde viande s'ils eussent eu faute de pain. \u00c0 l'endroit o\u00f9 ils avaient\nabord\u00e9 ils n'avaient au contraire pour toute nourriture que quelques\nherbes et quelques racines \u00e0 eux inconnues, fort peu succulentes, et que\nleur donnaient avec assez de parcimonie les naturels, vraiment dans\nl'impossibilit\u00e9 de les traiter mieux, \u00e0 moins qu'ils ne se fissent\ncannibales et mangeassent de la chair humaine, le grand r\u00e9gal du pays.\nNos Espagnols me racont\u00e8rent comment par divers moyens ils s'\u00e9taient\nefforc\u00e9s, mais en vain, de civiliser les Sauvages leurs h\u00f4tes, et de\nleur faire adopter des coutumes rationnelles dans le commerce ordinaire\nde la vie; et comment ces Indiens en r\u00e9criminant leur r\u00e9pondaient qu'il\n\u00e9tait injuste \u00e0 ceux qui \u00e9taient venus sur cette terre pour implorer\naide et assistance, de vouloir se poser comme les instructeurs de ceux\nqui les nourrissaient; donnant \u00e0 entendre par-l\u00e0, ce semble, que\ncelui-l\u00e0 ne doit point se faire l'instructeur des autres qui ne peut se\npasser d'eux pour vivre.\nIls me firent l'affreux r\u00e9cit des extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s o\u00f9 ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 r\u00e9duits;\ncomment ils avaient pass\u00e9 quelquefois plusieurs jours sans nourriture\naucune, l'\u00eele o\u00f9 ils se trouvaient \u00e9tant habit\u00e9e par une esp\u00e8ce de\nSauvages plus indolents, et, par cette raison, ils avaient tout lieu de\nle croire, moins pourvus des choses n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 la vie que les autres\nindig\u00e8nes de cette m\u00eame partie du monde. Toutefois ils reconnaissaient\nque cette peuplade \u00e9tait moins rapace et moins vorace que celles qui\navaient une meilleure et une plus abondante nourriture.\nIls ajout\u00e8rent aussi qu'ils ne pouvaient se refuser \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre avec\nquelles marques de sagesse et de bont\u00e9 la souveraine providence de Dieu\ndirige l'\u00e9v\u00e9nement des choses de ce monde; marques, disaient-ils,\n\u00e9clatantes \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard; car, si pouss\u00e9s par la duret\u00e9 de leur position\net par la st\u00e9rilit\u00e9 du pays o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient ils eussent cherch\u00e9 un lieu\nmeilleur pour y vivre, ils se seraient trouv\u00e9s en dehors de la voie de\nsalut qui par mon interm\u00e9diaire leur avait \u00e9t\u00e9 ouverte.\nEnsuite ils me racont\u00e8rent que les Sauvages leurs h\u00f4tes avaient fait\nfond sur eux pour les accompagner dans leurs guerres. Et par le fait,\ncomme ils avaient des armes \u00e0 feu, s'ils n'eussent pas eu le malheur de\nperdre leurs munitions, ils eussent pu non-seulement \u00eatre utiles \u00e0 leurs\namis, mais encore se rendre redoutables et \u00e0 leurs amis et \u00e0 leurs\nennemis. Or, n'ayant ni poudre ni plomb, et se voyant dans une condition\nqui ne leur permettait pas de refuser de suivre leurs _landlords_ \u00e0 la\nguerre, ils se trouvaient sur le champ de bataille dans une position\npire que celle des Sauvages eux-m\u00eames; car ils n'avaient ni fl\u00e8ches ni\narcs, ou ne savaient se servir de ceux que les Sauvages leur avaient\ndonn\u00e9s. Ils ne pouvaient donc faire autre chose que rester cois, expos\u00e9s\naux fl\u00e8ches, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'on f\u00fbt arriv\u00e9 sous la dent de l'ennemi. Alors\ntrois hallebardes qu'ils avaient leur \u00e9taient de quelque usage, et\nsouvent ils balayaient devant eux toute une petite arm\u00e9e avec ces\nhallebardes et des b\u00e2tons pointus fich\u00e9s dans le canon de leurs\nmousquets. Maintes fois pourtant ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 entour\u00e9s par des\nmultitudes, et en grand danger de tomber sous leurs traits. Mais enfin\nils avaient imagin\u00e9 de se faire de grandes targes de bois, qu'ils\navaient couvertes de peaux de b\u00eates sauvages dont ils ne savaient pas le\nnom. Nonobstant ces boucliers, qui les pr\u00e9servaient des fl\u00e8ches des\nIndiens, ils essuyaient quelquefois de grands p\u00e9rils. Un jour surtout\ncinq d'entre eux furent terrass\u00e9s ensemble par les casse-t\u00eates des\nSauvages; et c'est alors qu'un des leurs fut fait prisonnier,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire l'Espagnol que j'arrachai \u00e0 la mort. Ils crurent d'abord\nqu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9; mais ensuite, quand ils apprirent qu'il \u00e9tait\ncaptif, ils tomb\u00e8rent dans la plus profonde douleur imaginable, et\nauraient volontiers touts expos\u00e9 leur vie pour le d\u00e9livrer.\nLorsque ceux-ci eurent \u00e9t\u00e9 ainsi terrass\u00e9s, les autres les secoururent\net combattirent en les entourant jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils fussent touts revenus\n\u00e0 eux-m\u00eames, hormis celui qu'on croyait mort; puis touts ensemble,\nserr\u00e9s sur une ligne, ils se firent jour avec leurs hallebardes et leurs\nbayonnettes \u00e0 travers un corps de plus de mille Sauvages, abattirent\ntout ce qui se trouvait sur leur chemin et remport\u00e8rent la victoire;\nmais \u00e0 leur grand regret, parce qu'elle leur avait co\u00fbt\u00e9 la perte de\nleur compagnon, que le parti ennemi, qui le trouva vivant, avait emport\u00e9\navec quelques autres, comme je l'ai cont\u00e9 dans la premi\u00e8re portion de ma\nvie.\nIls me d\u00e9peignirent de la mani\u00e8re la plus touchante quelle avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nleur surprise de joie au retour de leur ami et compagnon de mis\u00e8re,\nqu'ils avaient cru d\u00e9vor\u00e9 par des b\u00eates f\u00e9roces de la pire esp\u00e8ce,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire par des hommes sauvages, et comment de plus en plus cette\nsurprise s'\u00e9tait augment\u00e9e au r\u00e9cit qu'il leur avait fait de son\nmessage, et de l'existence d'un Chr\u00e9tien sur une terre voisine, qui plus\nest d'un Chr\u00e9tien ayant assez de pouvoir et d'humanit\u00e9 pour contribuer \u00e0\nleur d\u00e9livrance.\nIls me d\u00e9peignirent encore leur \u00e9tonnement \u00e0 la vue du secours que je\nleur avais envoy\u00e9, et surtout \u00e0 l'aspect des miches du pain, choses\nqu'ils n'avaient pas vues depuis leur arriv\u00e9e dans ce mis\u00e9rable lieu,\ndisant que nombre de fois ils les avaient couvertes de signes de croix\net de b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions, comme un aliment descendu du Ciel; et en y go\u00fbtant\nquel cordial revivifiant \u00e7'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 pour leurs esprits, ainsi que tout\nce que j'avais envoy\u00e9 pour leur r\u00e9confort.\nDISTRIBUTION DES OUTILS\nIls auraient bien voulu me faire conna\u00eetre quelque chose de la joie dont\nils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 transport\u00e9s \u00e0 la vue de la barque et des pilotes\ndestin\u00e9s \u00e0 les conduire vers la personne et au lieu d'o\u00f9 leur venaient\ntouts ces secours; mais ils m'assur\u00e8rent qu'il \u00e9tait impossible de\nl'exprimer par des mots; que l'exc\u00e8s de leur joie les avait pouss\u00e9s \u00e0 de\nmess\u00e9antes extravagances qu'il ne leur \u00e9tait loisible de d\u00e9crire qu'en\nme disant qu'ils s'\u00e9taient vus sur le point de tomber en fr\u00e9n\u00e9sie, ne\npouvant donner un libre cours aux \u00e9motions qui les agitaient; bref, que\nce saisissement avait agi sur celui-ci de telle mani\u00e8re, sur celui-l\u00e0 de\ntelles autres; que les uns avaient d\u00e9bond\u00e9 en larmes, que les autres\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 fous, et que quelques-uns s'\u00e9taient imm\u00e9diatement\n\u00e9vanouis.--Cette peinture me toucha extr\u00eamement, et me rappela l'extase\nde VENDREDI quand il retrouva son p\u00e8re, les transports des pauvres\nFran\u00e7ais quand je les recueillis en mer, apr\u00e8s l'incendie de leur\nnavire, la joie du capitaine quand il se vit d\u00e9livr\u00e9 dans le lieu m\u00eame\no\u00f9 il s'attendait \u00e0 p\u00e9rir, et ma propre joie quand, apr\u00e8s vingt-huit ans\nde captivit\u00e9, je vis un bon vaisseau pr\u00eat \u00e0 me conduire dans ma patrie.\nTouts ces souvenirs me rendirent plus sensible au r\u00e9cit de ces pauvres\ngens et firent que je m'en affectai d'autant plus.\nAyant ainsi donn\u00e9 un apper\u00e7u de l'\u00e9tat des choses telles que je les\ntrouvai, il convient que je relate ce que je fis d'important pour nos\ncolons, et dans quelle situation je les laissai. Leur opinion et la\nmienne \u00e9taient qu'ils ne seraient plus inqui\u00e9t\u00e9s par les Sauvages, ou\nque, s'ils venaient \u00e0 l'\u00eatre, ils \u00e9taient en \u00e9tat de les repousser,\nfussent-ils deux fois plus nombreux qu'auparavant: de sorte qu'ils\n\u00e9taient fort tranquilles sur ce point.--En ce temps-l\u00e0, avec l'Espagnol\nque j'ai surnomm\u00e9 gouverneur j'eus un s\u00e9rieux entretien sur leur s\u00e9jour\ndans l'\u00eele; car, n'\u00e9tant pas venu pour emmener aucun d'entre eux, il\nn'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 juste d'en emmener quelques-uns et de laisser les autres,\nqui peut-\u00eatre ne seraient pas rest\u00e9s volontiers, si leurs forces eussent\n\u00e9t\u00e9 diminu\u00e9es.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, je leur d\u00e9clarai que j'\u00e9tais venu pour les \u00e9tablir en ce\nlieu et non pour les en d\u00e9loger; puis je leur fis conna\u00eetre que j'avais\napport\u00e9 pour eux des secours de toute sorte; que j'avais fait de grandes\nd\u00e9penses afin de les pourvoir de toutes les choses n\u00e9cessaires \u00e0 leur\nbien-\u00eatre et leur s\u00fbret\u00e9, et que je leur amenais telles et telles\npersonnes, non-seulement pour augmenter et renforcer leur nombre, mais\nencore pour les aider comme artisans, gr\u00e2ce aux divers m\u00e9tiers utiles\nqu'elles avaient appris, \u00e0 se procurer tout ce dont ils avaient faute\nencore.\nIls \u00e9taient touts ensemble quand je leur parlai ainsi. Avant de leur\nlivrer les provisions que j'avais apport\u00e9es, je leur demandai, un par\nun, s'ils avaient enti\u00e8rement \u00e9touff\u00e9 et oubli\u00e9 les inimiti\u00e9s qui\navaient r\u00e9gn\u00e9 parmi eux, s'ils voulaient se secouer la main et se jurer\nune mutuelle affection et une \u00e9troite union d'int\u00e9r\u00eats, que ne\nd\u00e9truiraient plus ni m\u00e9sintelligences ni jalousies.\nWilliam ATKINS, avec beaucoup de franchise et de bonne humeur, r\u00e9pondit\nqu'ils avaient assez essuy\u00e9 d'afflictions pour devenir touts sages, et\nrencontr\u00e9 assez d'ennemis pour devenir touts amis; que, pour sa part, il\nvoulait vivre et mourir avec les autres; que, bien loin de former de\nmauvais desseins contre les Espagnols, il reconnaissait qu'ils ne lui\navaient rien fait que son mauvais caract\u00e8re n'e\u00fbt rendu n\u00e9cessaire et\nqu'\u00e0 leur place il n'e\u00fbt fait, s'il n'avait fait pis; qu'il leur\ndemanderait pardon si je le souhaitais de ses impertinences et de ses\nbrutalit\u00e9s \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard; qu'il avait la volont\u00e9 et le d\u00e9sir de vivre\navec eux dans les termes d'une amiti\u00e9 et d'une union parfaites, et qu'il\nferait tout ce qui serait en son pouvoir pour les en convaincre. Enfin,\nquant \u00e0 l'Angleterre, qu'il lui importait peu de ne pas y aller de vingt\nann\u00e9es.\nLes Espagnols r\u00e9pondirent qu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, dans le commencement, ils\navaient d\u00e9sarm\u00e9 et exclus William ATKINS et ses deux camarades, \u00e0 cause\nde leur mauvaise conduite, comme ils me l'avaient fait conna\u00eetre, et\nqu'ils en appelaient touts \u00e0 moi de la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 o\u00f9 ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d'en\nagir ainsi; mais que William ATKINS s'\u00e9tait conduit avec tant de\nbravoure dans le grand combat livr\u00e9 aux Sauvages et depuis dans quantit\u00e9\nd'occasions, et s'\u00e9tait montr\u00e9 si fid\u00e8le et si d\u00e9vou\u00e9 aux int\u00e9r\u00eats\ng\u00e9n\u00e9raux de la colonie, qu'ils avaient oubli\u00e9 tout le pass\u00e9, et\npensaient qu'il m\u00e9ritait autant qu'aucun d'eux qu'on lui confi\u00e2t des\narmes et qu'on le pourv\u00fbt de toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires; qu'en lui\nd\u00e9f\u00e9rant le commandement apr\u00e8s le gouverneur lui-m\u00eame, ils avaient\nt\u00e9moign\u00e9 de la foi qu'ils avaient en lui; que s'ils avaient eu foi\nenti\u00e8re en lui et en ses compatriotes, ils reconnaissaient aussi qu'ils\ns'\u00e9taient montr\u00e9s dignes de cette foi par tout ce qui peut appeler sur\nun honn\u00eate homme l'estime et la confiance; bref qu'ils saisissaient de\ntout c\u0153ur cette occasion de me donner cette assurance qu'ils n'auraient\njamais d'int\u00e9r\u00eat qui ne f\u00fbt celui de touts.\nD'apr\u00e8s ces franches et ouvertes d\u00e9clarations d'amiti\u00e9, nous fix\u00e2mes le\njour suivant pour d\u00eener touts ensemble, et nous f\u00eemes, d'honneur, un\nsplendide festin. Je priai le _cook_ du navire et son aide de venir \u00e0\nterre pour dresser le repas, et l'ancien cuisinier en second que nous\navions dans l'\u00eele les assista. On tira des provisions du vaisseau: six\npi\u00e8ces de bon b\u0153uf, quatre pi\u00e8ces de porc et notre _bowl_ \u00e0 _punch_,\navec les ingr\u00e9dients pour en faire; et je leur donnai, en particulier,\ndix bouteilles de vin clairet de France et dix bouteilles de bi\u00e8re\nanglaise, choses dont ni les Espagnols ni les Anglais n'avaient go\u00fbt\u00e9\ndepuis bien des ann\u00e9es, et dont, cela est croyable, ils furent on ne\npeut plus ravis.\nLes Espagnols ajout\u00e8rent \u00e0 notre festin cinq chevreaux entiers que les\n_cooks_ firent r\u00f4tir, et dont trois furent envoy\u00e9s bien couverts \u00e0 bord\ndu navire, afin que l'\u00e9quipage se p\u00fbt r\u00e9galer de notre viande fra\u00eeche,\ncomme nous le faisions \u00e0 terre de leur salaison.\nApr\u00e8s ce banquet, o\u00f9 brilla une innocente ga\u00eet\u00e9, je fis \u00e9taler ma\ncargaison d'effets; et, pour \u00e9viter toute dispute sur la r\u00e9partition, je\nleur montrai qu'elle \u00e9tait suffisante pour eux touts, et leur enjoignis\n\u00e0 touts de prendre une quantit\u00e9 \u00e9gale des choses \u00e0 l'usage du corps,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e9gale apr\u00e8s confection. Je distribuai d'abord assez de\ntoile pour faire \u00e0 chacun quatre chemises; mais plus tard, \u00e0 la requ\u00eate\ndes Espagnols, je portai ce nombre \u00e0 six. Ce linge leur fut extr\u00eamement\nconfortable; car, pour ainsi dire, ils en avaient depuis long-temps\noubli\u00e9 l'usage, ou ce que c'\u00e9tait que d'en porter.\nJe distribuai les minces \u00e9toffes anglaises dont j'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 parl\u00e9, pour\nfaire \u00e0 chacun un l\u00e9ger v\u00eatement, en mani\u00e8re de blaude, costume frais et\npeu g\u00eanant que je jugeai le plus convenable \u00e0 cause de la chaleur de la\nsaison, et j'ordonnai que toutes et quantes fois ils seraient us\u00e9s, on\nleur en f\u00eet d'autres, comme bon semblerait. Je r\u00e9partis de m\u00eame\nescarpins, souliers, bas et chapeaux.\nJe ne saurais exprimer le plaisir et la satisfaction qui \u00e9clataient dans\nl'air de touts ces pauvres gens quand ils virent quel soin j'avais pris\nd'eux et combien largement je les avais pourvus. Ils me dirent que\nj'\u00e9tais leur p\u00e8re, et que d'avoir un correspondant tel que moi dans une\npartie du monde si lointaine, cela leur ferait oublier qu'ils \u00e9taient\nd\u00e9laiss\u00e9s sur une terre d\u00e9serte. Et touts envers moi prirent volontiers\nl'engagement de ne pas quitter la place sans mon consentement.\nAlors je leur pr\u00e9sentai les gens que j'avais amen\u00e9s avec moi,\nsp\u00e9cialement le tailleur, le forgeron, et les deux charpentiers,\npersonnages fort n\u00e9cessaires; mais par-dessus tout mon artisan\nuniversel, lequel \u00e9tait plus utile pour eux qu'aucune chose qu'ils\neussent pu nommer. Le tailleur, pour leur montrer son bon vouloir, se\nmit imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 l'ouvrage, et avec ma permission leur fit \u00e0 chacun\npremi\u00e8rement une chemise. Qui plus est, non-seulement il enseigna aux\nfemmes \u00e0 coudre, \u00e0 piquer, \u00e0 manier l'aiguille, mais il s'en fit aider\npour faire les chemises de leurs maris et de touts les autres.\nQuant aux charpentiers, je ne m'appesantirai pas sur leur utilit\u00e9: ils\nd\u00e9mont\u00e8rent touts mes meubles grossiers et mal b\u00e2tis, et en firent\npromptement des tables convenables, des escabeaux, des ch\u00e2lits, des\nbuffets, des armoires, des tablettes, et autres choses semblables dont\non avait faute.\nOr pour leur montrer comment la nature fait des ouvriers spontan\u00e9ment,\nje les menai voir la _maison-corbeille_ de William ATKINS, comme je la\nnommais; et ils m'avou\u00e8rent l'un et l'autre qu'ils n'avaient jamais vu\nun pareil exemple d'industrie naturelle, ni rien de si r\u00e9gulier et de si\nhabilement construit, du moins en ce genre. \u00c0 son aspect l'un d'eux,\napr\u00e8s avoir r\u00eav\u00e9 quelque temps, se tourna vers moi et dit:--\u00abJe suis\nconvaincu que cet homme n'a pas besoin de nous: donnez-lui seulement des\noutils.\u00bb\nJe fis ensuite d\u00e9barquer toute ma provision d'instruments, et je donnai\n\u00e0 chaque homme une b\u00eache, une pelle, et un r\u00e2teau, au d\u00e9faut de herses\net de charrues; puis pour chaque \u00e9tablissement s\u00e9par\u00e9 une pioche, une\npince, une doloire et une scie, statuant toujours que toutes et quantes\nfois quelqu'un de ces outils serait rompu ou us\u00e9, on y suppl\u00e9erait sans\ndifficult\u00e9 au magasin g\u00e9n\u00e9ral que je laisserais en r\u00e9serve.\nPour des clous, des g\u00e2ches, des gonds, des marteaux, des gouges, des\ncouteaux, des ciseaux, et des ustensiles et des ferrures de toutes\nsortes, nos hommes en eurent sans compter selon ce qu'ils demandaient,\ncar aucun ne se f\u00fbt souci\u00e9 d'en prendre au-del\u00e0 de ses besoins: bien fou\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 celui qui les aurait gaspill\u00e9s ou g\u00e2t\u00e9s pour quelque raison que\nce f\u00fbt. \u00c0 l'usage du forgeron, et pour son approvisionnement, je laissai\ndeux tonnes de fer brut.\nLe magasin de poudre et d'armes que je leur apportais allait jusqu'\u00e0 la\nprofusion, ce dont ils furent n\u00e9cessairement fort aises. Ils pouvaient\nalors, comme j'avais eu coutume de le faire, marcher avec un mousquet\nsur chaque \u00e9paule, si besoin \u00e9tait, et combattre un millier de Sauvages,\nn'auraient-ils eu qu'un faible avantage de position, circonstance qui ne\npouvait leur manquer dans l'occasion.\nJ'avais men\u00e9 \u00e0 terre avec moi le jeune homme dont la m\u00e8re \u00e9tait morte de\nfaim, et la servante aussi, jeune fille modeste, bien \u00e9lev\u00e9e, pieuse, et\nd'une conduite si pleine de candeur, que chacun avait pour elle une\nbonne parole. Parmi nous elle avait eu une vie fort malheureuse \u00e0 bord,\no\u00f9 pas d'autre femme qu'elle ne se trouvait; mais elle l'avait support\u00e9e\navec patience.--Apr\u00e8s un court s\u00e9jour dans l'\u00eele, voyant toutes choses\nsi bien ordonn\u00e9es et en si bon train de prosp\u00e9rer, et consid\u00e9rant qu'ils\nn'avaient ni affaires ni connaissances dans les Indes-Orientales, ni\nmotif pour entreprendre un si long voyage; consid\u00e9rant tout cela,\ndis-je, ils vinrent ensemble me trouver, et me demand\u00e8rent que je leur\npermisse de rester dans l'\u00eele, et d'entrer dans ma famille, comme ils\ndisaient.\nJ'y consentis de tout c\u0153ur, et on leur assigna une petite pi\u00e8ce de\nterre, o\u00f9 on leur \u00e9leva trois tentes ou maisons, entour\u00e9es d'un\nclayonnage, palissad\u00e9es comme celle d'ATKINS et contigu\u00ebs \u00e0 sa\nplantation. Ces huttes furent dispos\u00e9es de telle fa\u00e7on, qu'ils avaient\nchacun une chambre \u00e0 part pour se loger, et un pavillon mitoyen, ou\nesp\u00e8ce de magasin, pour d\u00e9poser touts leurs effets et prendre leurs\nrepas. Les deux autres Anglais transport\u00e8rent alors leur habitation \u00e0 la\nm\u00eame place, et ainsi l'\u00eele demeura divis\u00e9e en trois colonies, pas\ndavantage. Les Espagnols, avec le vieux VENDREDI et les premiers\nserviteurs, logeaient \u00e0 mon ancien manoir au pied de la colline, lequel\n\u00e9tait, pour ainsi parler, la cit\u00e9 capitale, et o\u00f9 ils avaient tellement\naugment\u00e9 et \u00e9tendu leurs travaux, tant dans l'int\u00e9rieur qu'\u00e0 l'ext\u00e9rieur\nde la colline, que, bien que parfaitement cach\u00e9s, ils habitaient fort au\nlarge. Jamais, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, dans aucune partie du monde, on ne vit une\npareille petite cit\u00e9, au milieu d'un bois, et si secr\u00e8te.\nCONF\u00c9RENCE\nSur l'honneur, mille hommes, s'ils n'eussent su qu'elle exist\u00e2t ou ne\nl'eussent cherch\u00e9e \u00e0 dessein, auraient pu sans la trouver battre l'\u00eele\npendant un mois: car les arbres avaient cru si \u00e9pais et si serr\u00e9s, et\ns'\u00e9taient tellement entrelac\u00e9s les uns dans les autres, que pour\nd\u00e9couvrir la place il e\u00fbt fallu d'abord les abattre, \u00e0 moins qu'on n'e\u00fbt\ntrouv\u00e9 les deux petits passages servant d'entr\u00e9e et d'issue, ce qui\nn'\u00e9tait pas fort ais\u00e9. L'un \u00e9tait juste au bord de l'eau, sur la rive de\nla crique, et \u00e0 plus de deux cents verges du ch\u00e2teau; l'autre se\ntrouvait au haut de la double escalade, que j'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 exactement\nd\u00e9crite. Sur le sommet de la colline il y avait aussi un gros bois,\nplant\u00e9 serr\u00e9, de plus d'un acre d'\u00e9tendue, lequel avait cru promptement,\net garantissait la place de toute atteinte de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, o\u00f9 l'on ne\npouvait p\u00e9n\u00e9trer que par une ouverture \u00e9troite r\u00e9serv\u00e9e entre deux\narbres, et peu facile \u00e0 d\u00e9couvrir.\nL'autre colonie \u00e9tait celle de WILL ATKINS, o\u00f9 se trouvaient quatre\nfamilles anglaises, je veux dire les Anglais que j'avais laiss\u00e9s dans\nl'\u00eele, leurs femmes, leurs enfants, trois Sauvages esclaves, la veuve et\nles enfants de celui qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9, le jeune homme et la servante,\ndont, par parenth\u00e8se, nous f\u00eemes une femme avant notre d\u00e9part. L\u00e0\nhabitaient aussi les deux charpentiers et le tailleur que je leur avais\namen\u00e9s, ainsi que le forgeron, artisan fort utile, surtout comme\narquebusier, pour prendre soin de leurs armes; enfin, mon autre homme,\nque j'appelais--\u00abJack-bon-\u00e0-tout\u00bb, et qui \u00e0 lui seul valait presque\nvingt hommes; car c'\u00e9tait non-seulement un gar\u00e7on fort ing\u00e9nieux, mais\nencore un joyeux compagnon. Avant de partir nous le mari\u00e2mes \u00e0 l'honn\u00eate\nservante venue avec le jeune homme \u00e0 bord du navire, ce dont j'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0\nfait mention.\nMaintenant que j'en suis arriv\u00e9, \u00e0 parler de mariage, je me vois\nnaturellement entra\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0 dire quelques mots de l'eccl\u00e9siastique\nfran\u00e7ais, qui pour me suivre avait quitt\u00e9 l'\u00e9quipage que je recueillis\nen mer. Cet homme, cela est vrai, \u00e9tait catholique romain, et peut-\u00eatre\nchoquerais-je par-l\u00e0 quelques personnes si je rapportais rien\nd'extraordinaire au sujet d'un personnage que je dois, avant de\ncommencer,--pour le d\u00e9peindre fid\u00e8lement,--en des termes fort \u00e0 son\nd\u00e9savantage aux yeux des Protestants, repr\u00e9senter d'abord comme Papiste,\nsecondement comme pr\u00eatre papiste et troisi\u00e8mement comme pr\u00eatre papiste\nfran\u00e7ais[14].\nMais la justice exige de moi que je lui donne son vrai caract\u00e8re; et je\ndirai donc que c'\u00e9tait un homme grave, sobre, pieux, plein de ferveur,\nd'une vie r\u00e9guli\u00e8re, d'une ardente charit\u00e9, et presque en toutes choses\nd'une conduite exemplaire. Qui pourrait me bl\u00e2mer d'appr\u00e9cier,\nnonobstant sa communion, la valeur d'un tel homme, quoique mon opinion\nsoit, peut-\u00eatre ainsi que l'opinion de ceux qui liront ceci, qu'il \u00e9tait\ndans l'erreur? [15]\nTout d'abord que je m'entretins avec lui, apr\u00e8s qu'il eut consenti \u00e0\naller avec moi aux Indes-Orientales, je trouvai, non sans raison, un\ncharme extr\u00eame dans sa conversation. Ce fut de la mani\u00e8re la plus\nobligeante qu'il entama notre premi\u00e8re causerie sur la religion.\n--\u00abSir, dit-il, non-seulement, gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu,--\u00e0 ce nom il se signa la\npoitrine,--vous m'avez sauv\u00e9 la vie, mais vous m'avez admis \u00e0 faire ce\nvoyage dans votre navire, et par votre civilit\u00e9 pleine de d\u00e9f\u00e9rence vous\nm'avez re\u00e7u dans votre familiarit\u00e9, en donnant champ libre \u00e0 mes\ndiscours. Or, sir, vous voyez \u00e0 mon v\u00eatement quelle est ma communion, et\nje devine, moi, par votre nation, quelle est la v\u00f4tre. Je puis penser\nqu'il est de mon devoir, et cela n'est pas douteux, d'employer touts mes\nefforts, en toute occasion, pour amener le plus d'\u00e2mes que je puis et \u00e0\nla connaissance de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 et \u00e0 embrasser la doctrine catholique;\nmais, comme je suis ici sous votre bon vouloir et dans votre famille,\nvos amiti\u00e9s m'obligent, aussi bien que la d\u00e9cence et les convenances, \u00e0\nme ranger sous votre ob\u00e9issance. Je n'entrerai donc pas plus avant que\nvous ne m'y autoriserez dans aucun d\u00e9bat sur des points de religion\ntouchant lesquels nous pourrions diff\u00e9rer de sentiments.\nJe lui dis que sa conduite \u00e9tait si pleine de modestie, que je ne\npouvais ne pas en \u00eatre p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9; qu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 nous \u00e9tions de ces gens\nqu'ils appelaient h\u00e9r\u00e9tiques, mais qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas le premier\ncatholique avec lequel j'eusse convers\u00e9 sans tomber dans quelques\ndifficult\u00e9s ou sans porter la question un peu haut dans le d\u00e9bat; qu'il\nne s'en trouverait pas plus mal trait\u00e9 pour avoir une autre opinion que\nnous, et que si nous ne nous entretenions pas sur cette mati\u00e8re sans\nquelque aigreur d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 ou de l'autre, ce serait sa faute et non la\nn\u00f4tre.\nIl r\u00e9pliqua qu'il lui semblait facile d'\u00e9loigner toute dispute de nos\nentretiens; que ce n'\u00e9tait point son affaire de convertir les principes\nde chaque homme avec qui il discourait, et qu'il d\u00e9sirait converser avec\nmoi plut\u00f4t en homme du monde qu'en religieux; que si je voulais lui\npermettre de discourir quelquefois sur des sujets de religion, il le\nferait tr\u00e8s-volontiers; qu'alors il ne doutait point que je ne le\nlaissasse d\u00e9fendre ses propres opinions aussi bien qu'il le pourrait,\nmais que sans mon agr\u00e9ment il n'ouvrirait jamais la bouche sur pareille\nmati\u00e8re.\nIl me dit encore que, pour le bien du navire et le salut de tout ce qui\ns'y trouvait, il ne cesserait de faire tout ce qui seyait \u00e0 sa double\nmission de pr\u00eatre et de Chr\u00e9tien; et que, nonobstant que nous ne\nvoulussions pas peut-\u00eatre nous r\u00e9unir \u00e0 lui, et qu'il ne p\u00fbt joindre ses\npri\u00e8res aux n\u00f4tres, il esp\u00e9rait pouvoir prier pour nous, ce qu'il ferait\nen toute occasion. Telle \u00e9tait l'allure de nos conversations; et, de\nm\u00eame qu'il \u00e9tait d'une conduite obligeante et noble, il \u00e9tait, s'il peut\nm'\u00eatre permis de le dire, homme de bon sens, et, je crois, d'un grand\nsavoir.\nIl me fit un fort agr\u00e9able r\u00e9cit de sa vie et des \u00e9v\u00e9nements\nextraordinaires dont elle \u00e9tait sem\u00e9e. Parmi les nombreuses aventures\nqui lui \u00e9taient advenues depuis le peu d'ann\u00e9es qu'il courait le monde,\ncelle-ci \u00e9tait surtout tr\u00e8s-remarquable. Durant le voyage qu'il\npoursuivait encore, il avait eu la disgr\u00e2ce d'\u00eatre embarqu\u00e9 et d\u00e9barqu\u00e9\ncinq fois, sans que jamais aucun des vaisseaux o\u00f9 il se trouvait f\u00fbt\nparvenu \u00e0 sa destination. Son premier dessein \u00e9tait d'aller \u00e0 la\nMartinique, et il avait pris passage \u00e0 Saint-Malo sur un navire charg\u00e9\npour cette \u00eele; mais, contraint par le mauvais temps de faire rel\u00e2che \u00e0\nLisbonne, le b\u00e2timent avait \u00e9prouv\u00e9 quelque avarie en \u00e9chouant dans\nl'embouchure du Tage, et on avait \u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9 de d\u00e9charger sa cargaison.\nL\u00e0, trouvant un vaisseau portugais nolis\u00e9 pour Mad\u00e8re pr\u00eat \u00e0 mettre \u00e0 la\nvoile, et supposant rencontrer facilement dans ce parage un navire\ndestin\u00e9 pour la Martinique, il s'\u00e9tait donc rembarqu\u00e9. Mais le capitaine\nde ce b\u00e2timent portugais, lequel \u00e9tait un marin n\u00e9gligent, s'\u00e9tant\ntromp\u00e9 dans son estime, avait d\u00e9riv\u00e9 jusqu'\u00e0 Fayal, o\u00f9 toutefois il\navait eu la chance de trouver un excellent d\u00e9bit de son chargement, qui\nconsistait en grains. En cons\u00e9quence, il avait r\u00e9solu de ne point aller\n\u00e0 Mad\u00e8re, mais de charger du sel \u00e0 l'\u00eele de May, et de faire route de l\u00e0\npour Terre-Neuve.--Notre jeune eccl\u00e9siastique dans cette occurrence\nn'avait pu que suivre la fortune du navire, et le voyage avait \u00e9t\u00e9 assez\nheureux jusqu'aux Bancs,--on appelle ainsi le lieu o\u00f9 se fait la p\u00eache.\nAyant rencontr\u00e9 l\u00e0 un b\u00e2timent fran\u00e7ais parti de France pour Qu\u00e9bec, sur\nla rivi\u00e8re du Canada, puis devant porter des vivres \u00e0 la Martinique, il\navait cru tenir une bonne occasion d'accomplir son premier dessein;\nmais, arriv\u00e9 \u00e0 Qu\u00e9bec, le capitaine \u00e9tait mort, et le vaisseau n'avait\npas pouss\u00e9 plus loin. Il s'\u00e9tait donc r\u00e9sign\u00e9 \u00e0 retourner en France sur\nle navire qui avait br\u00fbl\u00e9 en mer, et dont nous avions recueilli\nl'\u00e9quipage, et finalement il s'\u00e9tait embarqu\u00e9 avec nous pour les\nIndes-Orientales, comme je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit.--C'est ainsi qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nd\u00e9sappoint\u00e9 dans cinq voyages, qui touts, pour ainsi dire, n'en \u00e9taient\nqu'un seul: cela soit dit sans pr\u00e9judice de ce que j'aurai occasion de\nraconter de lui par la suite.\nMais je ne ferai point de digression sur les aventures d'autrui\n\u00e9trang\u00e8res \u00e0 ma propre histoire.--Je retourne \u00e0 ce qui concerne nos\naffaires de l'\u00eele. Notre religieux,--car il passa avec nous tout le\ntemps que nous s\u00e9journ\u00e2mes \u00e0 terre,--vint me trouver un matin, comme je\nme disposais \u00e0 aller visiter la colonie des Anglais, dans la partie la\nplus \u00e9loign\u00e9e de l'\u00eele; il vint \u00e0 moi, dis-je, et me d\u00e9clara d'un air\nfort grave qu'il aurait d\u00e9sir\u00e9 depuis deux ou trois jours trouver le\nmoment opportun de me faire une ouverture qui, esp\u00e9rait-il, ne me serait\npoint d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able, parce qu'elle lui semblait tendre sous certains\nrapports \u00e0 mon dessein g\u00e9n\u00e9ral, le bonheur de ma nouvelle colonie, et\npouvoir sans doute la placer, au moins plus avant qu'elle ne l'\u00e9tait\nselon lui, dans la voie des b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu.\nJe restai un peu surpris \u00e0 ces derni\u00e8res paroles; et l'interrompant\nassez brusquement:--\u00abComment, sir, m'\u00e9criai-je, peut-on dire que nous ne\nsommes pas dans la voie des b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu, apr\u00e8s l'assistance si\npalpable et les d\u00e9livrances si merveilleuses que nous avons vues ici, et\ndont je vous ai donn\u00e9 un long d\u00e9tail?\u00bb\n--S'il vous avait plu de m'\u00e9couter, sir, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il avec beaucoup de\nmod\u00e9ration et cependant avec une grande vivacit\u00e9, vous n'auriez pas eu\nlieu d'\u00eatre f\u00e2ch\u00e9, et encore moins de me croire assez d\u00e9nu\u00e9 de sens pour\ninsinuer que vous n'avez pas eu d'assistances et de d\u00e9livrances\nmiraculeuses. J'esp\u00e8re, quant \u00e0 vous-m\u00eame, que vous \u00eates dans la voie\ndes b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu, et que votre dessein est bon, et qu'il\nprosp\u00e9rera. Mais, sir, vos desseins fussent-t-ils encore meilleurs,\nau-del\u00e0 m\u00eame de ce qui vous est possible, il peut y en avoir parmi vous\ndont les actions ne sont pas aussi irr\u00e9prochables; or, dans l'histoire\ndes enfants d'Isra\u00ebl, qu'il vous souvienne d'Haghan, qui, lui seul,\nsuffit, dans le camp, pour d\u00e9tourner la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu de tout le\npeuple et lui rendre son bras si redoutable, que trente-six d'entre les\nH\u00e9breux, quoiqu'ils n'eussent point tremp\u00e9 dans le crime, devinrent\nl'objet de la vengeance c\u00e9leste, et port\u00e8rent le poids du ch\u00e2timent.\u00bb\nJe lui dis, vivement touch\u00e9 de ce discours, que sa conclusion \u00e9tait si\njuste, que ses intentions me paraissaient si sinc\u00e8res et qu'elles\n\u00e9taient de leur nature r\u00e9ellement si religieuses, que j'\u00e9tais fort\ncontrit de l'avoir interrompu, et que je le suppliais de poursuivre.\nCependant, comme il semblait que ce que nous avions \u00e0 nous dire d\u00fbt\nprendre quelque temps, je l'informai que j'allais visiter la plantation\ndes Anglais, et lui demandai s'il voulait venir avec moi, que nous\npourrions causer de cela chemin faisant. Il me r\u00e9pondit qu'il m'y\naccompagnerait d'autant plus volontiers que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 qu'en partie\ns'\u00e9tait pass\u00e9e la chose dont il d\u00e9sirait m'entretenir. Nous part\u00eemes\ndonc, et je le pressai de s'expliquer franchement et ouvertement sur ce\nqu'il avait \u00e0 me dire.\n--\u00abEh bien, sir, me dit-il, veuillez me permettre d'\u00e9tablir quelques\npropositions comme base de ce que j'ai \u00e0 dire, afin que nous ne\ndiff\u00e9rions pas sur les principes g\u00e9n\u00e9raux, quoique nous puissions \u00eatre\nd'opinion diff\u00e9rente sur la pratique des d\u00e9tails. D'abord, sir, malgr\u00e9\nque nous divergions sur quelques points de doctrine religieuse,--et il\nest tr\u00e8s-malheureux qu'il en soit ainsi, surtout dans le cas pr\u00e9sent,\ncomme je le d\u00e9montrerai ensuite,--il est cependant quelques principes\ng\u00e9n\u00e9raux sur lesquels nous sommes d'accord: nomm\u00e9ment qu'il y a un Dieu,\net que Dieu nous ayant donn\u00e9 des lois g\u00e9n\u00e9rales et fixes de devoir et\nd'ob\u00e9issance, nous ne devons pas volontairement et sciemment l'offenser,\nsoit en n\u00e9gligeant de faire ce qu'il a command\u00e9, soit en faisant ce\nqu'il a express\u00e9ment d\u00e9fendu. Quelles que soient nos diff\u00e9rentes\nreligions, ce principe g\u00e9n\u00e9ral est spontan\u00e9ment avou\u00e9 par nous touts,\nque la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu ne suit pas ordinairement une pr\u00e9somptueuse\ntransgression de sa Loi.\nSUITE DE LA CONF\u00c9RENCE\n\u00abTout bon chr\u00e9tien devra donc mettre ses plus tendres soins \u00e0 emp\u00eacher\nque ceux qu'il tient sous sa tutelle ne vivent dans un complet oubli de\nDieu et de ses commandements. Parce que vos hommes sont protestants,\nquel que puisse \u00eatre d'ailleurs mon sentiment, cela ne me d\u00e9charge pas\nde la sollicitude que je dois avoir de leurs \u00e2mes et des efforts qu'il\nest de mon devoir de tenter, si le cas y \u00e9choit, pour les amener \u00e0 vivre\n\u00e0 la plus petite distance et dans la plus faible inimiti\u00e9 possibles de\nleur Cr\u00e9ateur, surtout si vous me permettez d'entreprendre \u00e0 ce point\nsur vos attributions.\u00bb\nJe ne pouvais encore entrevoir son but; cependant je ne laissai pas\nd'applaudir \u00e0 ce qu'il avait dit. Je le remerciai de l'int\u00e9r\u00eat si grand\nqu'il prenait \u00e0 nous, et je le priai du vouloir bien exposer les d\u00e9tails\nde ce qu'il avait observ\u00e9, afin que je pusse, comme Josu\u00e9,--pour\ncontinuer sa propre parabole,--\u00e9loigner de nous la _chose maudite_.\n--\u00abEh bien! soit, me dit-il, je vais user de la libert\u00e9 que vous me\ndonnez.--Il y a trois choses, lesquelles, si je ne me trompe, doivent\narr\u00eater ici vos efforts dans la voie des b\u00e9n\u00e9dictions de Dieu, et que,\npour l'amour de vous et des v\u00f4tres, je me r\u00e9jouirais de voir \u00e9cart\u00e9es.\nSir, j'ai la persuasion que vous les reconna\u00eetrez comme moi d\u00e8s que je\nvous les aurai nomm\u00e9es, surtout quand je vous aurai convaincu qu'on peut\ntr\u00e8s-ais\u00e9ment, et \u00e0 votre plus grande satisfaction, rem\u00e9dier \u00e0 chacune\nde ces choses.\nEt l\u00e0-dessus il ne me permit pas de placer quelques mots polis, mais il\ncontinua:--D'abord, sir, dit-il, vous avez ici quatre Anglais qui sont\nall\u00e9s chercher des femmes chez les Sauvages, en ont fait leurs \u00e9pouses,\nen ont eu plusieurs enfants, et cependant ne sont unis \u00e0 elles selon\naucune coutume \u00e9tablie et l\u00e9gale, comme le requi\u00e8rent les lois de Dieu\net les lois des hommes; ce ne sont donc pas moins, devant les unes et\nles autres, que des adult\u00e8res, vivant dans l'adult\u00e8re. \u00c0 cela, sir, je\nsais que vous objecterez qu'ils n'avaient ni clerc, ni pr\u00eatre d'aucune\nsorte ou d'aucune communion pour accomplir la c\u00e9r\u00e9monie; ni plumes, ni\nencre, ni papier, pour dresser un contrat de mariage et y apposer\nr\u00e9ciproquement leur seing. Je sais encore, sir, ce que le gouverneur\nvous a dit, de l'accord auquel il les obligea de souscrire quand ils\nprirent ces femmes, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'ils les choisiraient d'apr\u00e8s un mode\nconsenti et les garderaient s\u00e9par\u00e9ment; ce qui, soit dit en passant, n'a\nrien d'un mariage, et n'implique point l'engagement des femmes comme\n\u00e9pouses: ce n'est qu'un march\u00e9 fait entre les hommes pour pr\u00e9venir les\nquerelles entre eux.\n\u00bb Or, sir, l'essence du sacrement de mariage,--il l'appelait ainsi,\n\u00e9tant catholique romain,--consiste non-seulement dans le consentement\nmutuel des parties \u00e0 se prendre l'une l'autre pour mari et \u00e9pouse, mais\nencore dans l'obligation formelle et l\u00e9gale renferm\u00e9e dans le contrat,\nlaquelle force l'homme et la femme de s'avouer et de se reconna\u00eetre pour\ntels dans touts les temps; obligation imposant \u00e0 l'homme de s'abstenir\nde toute autre femme, de ne contracter aucun autre engagement tandis que\ncelui-ci subsiste, et, dans toutes les occasions, autant que faire se\npeut, de pourvoir convenablement son \u00e9pouse et ses enfants; obligation\nqui, _mutatis mutandis_, soumet de son c\u00f4t\u00e9 la femme aux m\u00eames ou \u00e0 de\nsemblables conditions.\n\u00bb Or, sir, ces hommes peuvent, quand il leur plaira ou quand l'occasion\ns'en pr\u00e9sentera, abandonner ces femmes, d\u00e9savouer leurs enfants, les\nlaisser p\u00e9rir, prendre d'autres femmes et les \u00e9pouser du vivant des\npremi\u00e8res.\u00bb--Ici il ajouta, non sans quelque chaleur:--\u00abComment, sir,\nDieu est-il honor\u00e9 par cette libert\u00e9 illicite? et comment sa b\u00e9n\u00e9diction\ncouronnera-t-elle vos efforts dans ce lieu, quoique bons en eux-m\u00eames,\nquoique honn\u00eates dans leur but; tandis que ces hommes, qui sont\npr\u00e9sentement vos sujets, sous votre gouvernement et votre domination\nabsolus, sont autoris\u00e9s par vous \u00e0 vivre ouvertement dans l'adult\u00e8re?\u00bb\nJe l'avoue, je fus frapp\u00e9 de la chose, mais beaucoup encore des\narguments convaincants dont il l'avait appuy\u00e9e; car il \u00e9tait\ncertainement vrai que, malgr\u00e9 qu'ils n'eussent point d'eccl\u00e9siastique\nsur les lieux, cependant un contrat formel des deux parties, fait\npar-devant t\u00e9moins, confirm\u00e9 au moyen de quelque signe par lequel ils se\nseraient touts reconnus engag\u00e9s, n'e\u00fbt-il consist\u00e9 que dans la rupture\nd'un f\u00e9tu, et qui e\u00fbt oblig\u00e9 les hommes \u00e0 avouer ces femmes pour leurs\n\u00e9pouses en toute circonstance, \u00e0 ne les abandonner jamais, ni elles ni\nleurs enfants, et les femmes \u00e0 en agir de m\u00eame \u00e0 l'\u00e9gard de leurs maris,\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 un mariage valide et l\u00e9gal \u00e0 la face de Dieu. Et c'\u00e9tait une\ngrande faute de ne l'avoir pas fait.\nJe pensai pouvoir m'en tirer avec mon jeune pr\u00eatre en lui disant que\ntout cela avait \u00e9t\u00e9 fait durant mon absence, et que depuis tant d'ann\u00e9es\nces gens vivaient ensemble, que, si c'\u00e9tait un adult\u00e8re, il \u00e9tait sans\nrem\u00e8de; qu'\u00e0 cette heure on n'y pouvait rien.\n--\u00absir, en vous demandant pardon d'une telle libert\u00e9, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il,\nvous avez raison en cela, que, la chose s'\u00e9tant consomm\u00e9e en votre\nabsence, vous ne sauriez \u00eatre accus\u00e9 d'avoir conniv\u00e9 au crime. Mais, je\nvous en conjure, ne vous flattez pas d'\u00eatre pour cela d\u00e9charg\u00e9 de\nl'obligation de faire maintenant tout votre possible pour y mettre fin.\nQu'on impute le pass\u00e9 \u00e0 qui l'on voudra! Comment pourriez-vous ne pas\npenser qu'\u00e0 l'avenir le crime retombera enti\u00e8rement sur vous, puisque\naujourd'hui il est certainement en votre pouvoir de lever le scandale,\net que nul autre n'a ce pouvoir que vous?\u00bb\nJe fus encore assez stupide pour ne pas le comprendre, et pour\nm'imaginer que par--\u00ablever le scandale\u00bb,--il entendait que je devais les\ns\u00e9parer et ne pas souffrir qu'ils v\u00e9cussent plus long-temps ensemble.\nAussi lui dis-je que c'\u00e9tait chose que je ne pouvais faire en aucune\nfa\u00e7on; car ce serait vouloir mettre l'\u00eele enti\u00e8re dans la confusion. Il\nparut surpris que je me fusse si grossi\u00e8rement m\u00e9pris.--\u00abNon, sir\u00bb,\nreprit-il, je n'entends point que vous deviez les s\u00e9parer, mais bien au\ncontraire les unir l\u00e9galement et efficacement. Et, sir, comme mon mode\nde mariage pourrait bien ne pas leur agr\u00e9er facilement, tout valable\nqu'il serait, m\u00eame d'apr\u00e8s vos propres lois, je vous crois qualifi\u00e9\ndevant Dieu et devant les hommes pour vous en acquitter vous-m\u00eame par un\ncontrat \u00e9crit, sign\u00e9 par les deux \u00e9poux et par touts les t\u00e9moins\npr\u00e9sents, lequel assur\u00e9ment serait d\u00e9clar\u00e9 valide par toutes les\nl\u00e9gislations de l'Europe.\u00bb\nJe fus \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de lui trouver tant de vraie pi\u00e9t\u00e9, un z\u00e8le si sinc\u00e8re,\nqui plus est dans ses discours une impartialit\u00e9 si peu commune touchant\nson propre parti ou son \u00c9glise, enfin une si fervente sollicitude pour\nsauver des gens avec lesquels il n'avait ni relation ni accointance;\npour les sauver, dis-je, de la transgression des lois de Dieu. Je\nn'avais en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 rencontr\u00e9 nulle part rien de semblable. Or,\nr\u00e9capitulant tout ce qu'il avait dit touchant le moyen de les unir par\ncontrat \u00e9crit, moyen que je tenais aussi pour valable, je revins \u00e0 la\ncharge et je lui r\u00e9pondis que je reconnaissais que tout ce qu'il avait\ndit \u00e9tait fort juste et tr\u00e8s-bienveillant de sa part, que je m'en\nentretiendrais avec ces gens tout-\u00e0-l'heure, d\u00e8s mon arriv\u00e9e; mais que\nje ne voyais pas pour quelle raison ils auraient des scrupules \u00e0 se\nlaisser touts marier par lui: car je n'ignorais pas que cette alliance\nserait reconnue aussi authentique et aussi valide en Angleterre que\ns'ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 mari\u00e9s par un de nos propres ministres. Je dirai en\nson temps ce qui se fit \u00e0 ce sujet.\nJe le pressai alors de me dire quelle \u00e9tait la seconde plainte qu'il\navait \u00e0 faire, en reconnaissant que je lui \u00e9tais fort redevable quant \u00e0\nla premi\u00e8re, et je l'en remerciai cordialement. Il me dit qu'il userait\nencore de la m\u00eame libert\u00e9 et de la m\u00eame franchise et qu'il esp\u00e9rait que\nje prendrais aussi bien.--Le grief \u00e9tait donc que, nonobstant que ces\nAnglais mes sujets, comme il les appelait, eussent v\u00e9cu avec ces femmes\ndepuis pr\u00e8s de sept ann\u00e9es, et leur eussent appris \u00e0 parler l'anglais,\nm\u00eame \u00e0 le lire, et qu'elles fussent, comme il s'en \u00e9tait apper\u00e7u, des\nfemmes assez intelligentes et susceptibles d'instruction, ils ne leur\navaient rien enseign\u00e9 jusque alors de la religion chr\u00e9tienne, pas\nseulement fait conna\u00eetre qu'il est un Dieu, qu'il a un culte, de quelle\nmani\u00e8re Dieu veut \u00eatre servi, ni que leur propre idol\u00e2trie et leur\nadoration \u00e9taient fausses et absurdes.\nC'\u00e9tait, disait-il, une n\u00e9gligence injustifiable; et que Dieu leur en\ndemanderait certainement compte, et que peut-\u00eatre il finirait par leur\narracher l'\u0153uvre des mains. Tout ceci fut prononc\u00e9 avec beaucoup de\nsensibilit\u00e9 et de chaleur.--\u00abJe suis persuad\u00e9, poursuivit-il, que si ces\nhomme eussent v\u00e9cu dans la contr\u00e9e sauvage d'o\u00f9 leurs femmes sont\nvenues, les Sauvages auraient pris plus de peine pour les amener \u00e0 se\nfaire idol\u00e2tres et \u00e0 adorer le d\u00e9mon, qu'aucun d'eux, autant que je puis\nle voir, n'en a pris pour instruire sa femme dans la connaissance du\nvrai Dieu.--Or, sir, continua-t-il, quoique je ne sois pas de votre\ncommunion, ni vous de la mienne, cependant, l'un et l'autre, nous\ndevrions \u00eatre joyeux de voir les serviteurs du d\u00e9mon et les sujets de\nson royaume apprendre \u00e0 conna\u00eetre les principes g\u00e9n\u00e9reux de la religion\nchr\u00e9tienne, de mani\u00e8re qu'ils puissent au moins poss\u00e9der quelques\nnotions de Dieu et d'un R\u00e9dempteur, de la r\u00e9surrection et d'une vie\nfuture, choses auxquelles nous touts nous croyons. Au moins seraient-ils\nainsi beaucoup plus pr\u00e8s d'entrer dans le giron de la v\u00e9ritable \u00c9glise\nqu'ils ne le sont maintenant en professant publiquement l'idol\u00e2trie et\nle culte de Satan.\u00bb\nJe n'y tins plus; je le pris dans mes bras et l'embrassai avec un exc\u00e8s\nde tendresse.--\u00abQue j'\u00e9tais loin, lui dis-je, de comprendre le devoir le\nplus essentiel d'un Chr\u00e9tien, c'est-\u00e0-dire de vouloir avec amour\nl'int\u00e9r\u00eat de l'\u00c9glise chr\u00e9tienne et le bien des \u00e2mes de notre prochain!\n\u00c0 peine savais-je ce qu'il faut pour \u00eatre chr\u00e9tien.\u00bb--\u00abOh, monsieur, ne\nparlez pas ainsi, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il; la chose ne vient pas de votre\nfaute.\u00bb--\u00abNon, dis-je, mais pourquoi ne l'ai-je pas prise \u00e0 c\u0153ur comme\nvous?\u00bb--\u00abIl n'est pas trop tard encore, dit-il; ne soyez pas si prompt \u00e0\nvous condamner vous-m\u00eame.\u00bb--\u00abMais, qu'y a-t-il \u00e0 faire maintenant?\nrepris-je. Vous voyez que je suis sur le point de partir.\u00bb--\u00abVoulez-vous\nme permettre, sir, d'en causer avec ces pauvres hommes?\u00bb--\u00abOui, de tout\nmon c\u0153ur, r\u00e9pondis-je, et je les obligerai \u00e0 se montrer attentifs \u00e0 ce\nque vous leur direz.\u00bb--\u00abQuant \u00e0 cela, dit-il, nous devons les abandonner\n\u00e0 la gr\u00e2ce du Christ; notre affaire est seulement de les assister, de\nles encourager et de les instruire. Avec votre permission et la\nb\u00e9n\u00e9diction de Dieu, je ne doute point que ces pauvres \u00e2mes ignorantes\nn'entrent dans le grand domaine de la chr\u00e9tient\u00e9, sinon dans la foi\nparticuli\u00e8re que nous embrassons touts, et cela m\u00eame pendant que vous\nserez encore ici.\u00bb--\u00abL\u00e0-dessus, lui dis-je, non-seulement je vous\naccorde cette permission, mais encore je vous donne mille\nremerc\u00eements.\u00bb--De ce qui s'en est suivi je ferai \u00e9galement mention en\nson lieu.\nJe le pressai de passer au troisi\u00e8me article, sur lequel nous \u00e9tions\nr\u00e9pr\u00e9hensibles.--\u00abEn v\u00e9rit\u00e9, dit-il, il est de la m\u00eame nature, et je\npoursuivrai, moyennant votre permission, avec la m\u00eame franchise. Il\ns'agit de vos pauvres Sauvages de par l\u00e0-bas, qui sont devenus,--pour\nainsi parler,--vos sujets par droit de conqu\u00eate. Il y a une maxime, sir,\nqui est ou doit \u00eatre re\u00e7ue parmi touts les Chr\u00e9tiens, de quelque\ncommunion ou pr\u00e9tendue communion qu'ils soient, et cette maxime est que\nla cr\u00e9ance chr\u00e9tienne doit \u00eatre propag\u00e9e par touts les moyens et dans\ntoutes les occasions possibles. C'est d'apr\u00e8s ce principe que notre\n\u00c9glise envoie des missionnaires dans la Perse, dans l'Inde, dans la\nChine, et que notre clerg\u00e9, m\u00eame du plus haut rang, s'engage\nvolontairement dans les voyages les plus hasardeux, et p\u00e9n\u00e8tre dans les\nplus dangereuses r\u00e9sidences, parmi les barbares et les meurtriers, pour\nleur enseigner la connaissance du vrai Dieu et les amener \u00e0 embrasser la\nFoi chr\u00e9tienne.\nARRIV\u00c9E CHEZ LES ANGLAIS\n\u00abOr, vous, sir, vous avez ici une belle occasion de convertir trente-six\nou trente-sept pauvres Sauvages idol\u00e2tres \u00e0 la connaissance de Dieu,\nleur Cr\u00e9ateur et R\u00e9dempteur, et je trouve tr\u00e8s-extraordinaire que vous\nlaissiez \u00e9chapper une pareille opportunit\u00e9 de faire une bonne \u0153uvre,\ndigne vraiment qu'un homme y consacra son existence tout enti\u00e8re.\u00bb\nJe restai muet, je n'avais pas un mot \u00e0 dire. L\u00e0 devant les yeux j'avais\nl'ardeur d'un z\u00e8le v\u00e9ritablement chr\u00e9tien pour Dieu et la religion;\nquels que fussent d'ailleurs les principes particuliers de ce jeune\nhomme de bien. Quant \u00e0 moi, jusqu'alors je n'avais pas m\u00eame eu dans le\nc\u0153ur une pareille pens\u00e9e, et sans doute je ne l'aurais jamais con\u00e7ue;\ncar ces Sauvages \u00e9taient pour moi des esclaves, des gens que, si nous\neussions eu \u00e0 les employer \u00e0 quelques travaux, nous aurions trait\u00e9s\ncomme tels, ou que nous aurions \u00e9t\u00e9 fort aises de transporter dans toute\nautre partie du monde. Notre affaire \u00e9tait de nous en d\u00e9barrasser. Nous\naurions touts \u00e9t\u00e9 satisfaits de les voir partir pour quelque pays,\npourvu qu'ils ne revissent jamais le leur.--Mais revenons \u00e0 notre sujet.\nJ'\u00e9tais, dis-je, rest\u00e9 confondu \u00e0 son discours, et je ne savais quelle\nr\u00e9ponse lui faire. Il me regarda fixement, et, remarquant mon\ntrouble:--\u00absir, dit-il, je serais d\u00e9sol\u00e9 si quelqu'une de mes paroles\navait pu vous offenser.\u00bb--\u00abNon, non, repartis-je, ma col\u00e8re ne s'adresse\nqu'\u00e0 moi-m\u00eame. Je suis profond\u00e9ment contrist\u00e9 non-seulement de n'avoir\npas eu la moindre id\u00e9e de cela jusqu'\u00e0 cette heure, mais encore de ne\npas savoir \u00e0 quoi me servira la connaissance que j'en ai maintenant.\nVous n'ignorez pas, sir, dans quelles circonstances je me trouve. Je\nvais aux Indes-Orientales sur un navire fr\u00e9t\u00e9 par des n\u00e9gociants, envers\nlesquels ce serait commettre une injustice criante que de retenir ici\nleur b\u00e2timent, l'\u00e9quipage \u00e9tant pendant tout ce temps nourri et pay\u00e9 aux\nfrais des armateurs. Il est vrai que j'ai stipul\u00e9 qu'il me serait\nloisible de demeurer douze jours ici, et que si j'y stationnais\ndavantage, je paierais trois livres sterling par jour de starie.\nToutefois je ne puis prolonger ma starie au-del\u00e0 de huit jours: en voici\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 treize que je s\u00e9journe en ce lieu. Je suis donc tout-\u00e0-fait dans\nl'impossibilit\u00e9 de me mettre \u00e0 cette \u0153uvre, \u00e0 moins que je ne me r\u00e9signe\n\u00e0 \u00eatre de nouveau abandonn\u00e9 sur cette \u00eele; et, dans ce cas, si ce seul\nnavire venait \u00e0 se perdre sur quelque point de sa course, je retomberais\npr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment dans le m\u00eame \u00e9tat o\u00f9 je me suis trouv\u00e9 une premi\u00e8re fois\nici, et duquel j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 si merveilleusement d\u00e9livr\u00e9.\u00bb\nIl avoua que les clauses de mon voyage \u00e9taient on\u00e9reuses; mais il laissa\n\u00e0 ma conscience \u00e0 prononcer si le bonheur de sauver trente-sept \u00e2mes ne\nvalait pas la peine que je hasardasse tout ce que j'avais au monde.\nN'\u00e9tant pas autant que lui p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de cela, je lui r\u00e9pliquai\nainsi:--\u00abC'est en effet, sir, chose fort glorieuse que d'\u00eatre un\ninstrument dans la main de Dieu pour convertir trente-sept payens \u00e0 la\nconnaissance du Christ. Mais comme vous \u00eates un eccl\u00e9siastique et\npr\u00e9pos\u00e9 \u00e0 cette \u0153uvre, il semble qu'elle entre naturellement dans le\ndomaine de votre profession; comment se fait-il donc qu'au lieu de m'y\nexhorter, vous n'offriez pas vous-m\u00eame de l'entreprendre?\u00bb\n\u00c0 ces mots, comme il marchait \u00e0 mon c\u00f4t\u00e9, il se tourna face \u00e0 face avec\nmoi, et, m'arr\u00eatant tout court, il me fit une profonde r\u00e9v\u00e9rence.--\u00abJe\nrends gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu et \u00e0 vous du fond de mon c\u0153ur, sir, dit-il, de\nm'avoir appel\u00e9 si manifestement \u00e0 une si sainte entreprise; et si vous\nvous en croyez dispens\u00e9 et d\u00e9sirez que je m'en charge, je l'accepte avec\nempressement, et je regarderai comme une heureuse r\u00e9compense des p\u00e9rils\net des peines d'un voyage aussi interrompu et aussi malencontreux que le\nmien, de vaquer enfin \u00e0 une \u0153uvre si glorieuse.\u00bb\nTandis qu'il parlait ainsi, je d\u00e9couvris sur son visage une sorte de\nravissement, ses yeux \u00e9tincelaient comme le feu, sa face s'embrasait,\np\u00e2lissait et se renflammait, comme s'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 en proie \u00e0 des acc\u00e8s. En\nun mot il \u00e9tait rayonnant de joie de se voir embarqu\u00e9 dans une pareille\nentreprise. Je demeurai fort long-temps sans pouvoir exprimer ce que\nj'avais \u00e0 lui dire; car j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9ellement surpris de trouver un homme\nd'une telle sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 et d'une telle ferveur, et entra\u00een\u00e9 par son z\u00e8le\nau-del\u00e0 du cercle ordinaire des hommes, non-seulement de sa communion,\nmais de quelque communion que ce f\u00fbt. Or apr\u00e8s avoir consid\u00e9r\u00e9 cela\nquelques instants, je lui demandai s\u00e9rieusement, s'il \u00e9tait vrai qu'il\nvoul\u00fbt s'aventurer dans la vue seule d'une tentative \u00e0 faire aupr\u00e8s de\nces pauvres gens, \u00e0 rester enferm\u00e9 dans une \u00eele inculte, peut-\u00eatre pour\nla vie, et apr\u00e8s tout sans savoir m\u00eame s'il pourrait ou non leur\nprocurer quelque bien.\nIl se tourna brusquement vers moi, et s'\u00e9cria:--\u00abQu'appelez-vous\ns'aventurer! Dans quel but, s'il vous pla\u00eet, sir, ajouta-t-il,\npensez-vous que j'aie consenti \u00e0 prendre passage \u00e0 bord de votre navire\npour les Indes-Orientales?\u00bb--\u00abJe ne sais, dis-je, \u00e0 moins que ce ne f\u00fbt\npour pr\u00eacher les Indiens.\u00bb--\u00abSans aucun doute, r\u00e9pondit-il. Et\ncroyez-vous que si je puis convertir ces trente-sept hommes \u00e0 la Foi du\nChrist, je n'aurai pas dignement employ\u00e9 mon temps, quand je devrais\nm\u00eame n'\u00eatre jamais retir\u00e9 de l'\u00eele? Le salut de tant d'\u00e2mes n'est-il pas\ninfiniment plus pr\u00e9cieux que ne l'est ma vie et m\u00eame celle de vingt\nautres de ma profession? Oui, sir, j'adresserais toute ma vie des\nactions de gr\u00e2ce au Christ et \u00e0 la Sainte-Vierge si je pouvais devenir\nle moindre instrument heureux du salut de l'\u00e2me de ces pauvres hommes,\nduss\u00e9-je ne jamais mettre le pied hors de cette \u00eele, et ne revoir jamais\nmon pays natal. Or puisque vous voulez bien me faire l'honneur de me\nconfier cette t\u00e2che,--en reconnaissance de quoi je prierai pour vous\ntouts les jours de ma vie,--je vous adresserai une humble\nrequ\u00eate\u00bb--\u00abQu'est-ce? lui dis-je.\u00bb--\u00abC'est, r\u00e9pondit-il, de laisser avec\nmoi votre serviteur VENDREDI, pour me servir d'interpr\u00e8te et me seconder\naupr\u00e8s de ces Sauvages; car sans trucheman je ne saurais en \u00eatre entendu\nni les entendre.\u00bb\nJe fus profond\u00e9ment \u00e9mu \u00e0 cette demande, car je ne pouvais songer \u00e0 me\ns\u00e9parer de VENDREDI, et pour maintes raisons. Il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le compagnon\nde mes travaux; non-seulement il m'\u00e9tait fid\u00e8le, mais son d\u00e9vouement\n\u00e9tait sans bornes, et j'avais r\u00e9solu de faire quelque chose de\nconsid\u00e9rable pour lui s'il me survivait, comme c'\u00e9tait probable.\nD'ailleurs je pensais qu'ayant fait de VENDREDI un Protestant, ce serait\nvouloir l'embrouiller enti\u00e8rement que de l'inciter \u00e0 embrasser une autre\ncommunion. Il n'e\u00fbt jamais voulu croire, tant que ses yeux seraient\nrest\u00e9s ouverts, que son vieux ma\u00eetre f\u00fbt un h\u00e9r\u00e9tique et serait damn\u00e9.\nCela ne pouvait donc avoir pour r\u00e9sultat que de ruiner les principes de\nce pauvre gar\u00e7on et de le rejeter dans son idol\u00e2trie premi\u00e8re.\nToutefois, dans cette angoisse, je fus soudainement soulag\u00e9 par la\npens\u00e9e que voici: je d\u00e9clarai \u00e0 mon jeune pr\u00eatre qu'en honneur je ne\npouvais pas dire que je fusse pr\u00eat \u00e0 me s\u00e9parer de VENDREDI pour quelque\nmotif que ce p\u00fbt \u00eatre, quoiqu'une \u0153uvre qu'il estimait plus que sa\npropre vie d\u00fbt sembler \u00e0 mes yeux de beaucoup plus de prix que la\npossession ou le d\u00e9part d'un serviteur; que d'ailleurs j'\u00e9tais persuad\u00e9\nque VENDREDI ne consentirait jamais en aucune fa\u00e7on \u00e0 se s\u00e9parer de moi,\net que l'y contraindre violemment serait une injustice manifeste, parce\nque je lui avais promis que je ne le renverrais jamais, et qu'il m'avait\npromis et jur\u00e9 de ne jamais m'abandonner, \u00e0 moins que je ne le\nchassasse.\nL\u00e0-dessus notre abb\u00e9 parut fort en peine, car tout acc\u00e8s \u00e0 l'esprit de\nces pauvres gens lui \u00e9tait ferm\u00e9, puisqu'il ne comprenait pas un seul\nmot de leur langue, ni eux un seul mot de la sienne. Pour trancher la\ndifficult\u00e9, je lui dis que le p\u00e8re de VENDREDI avait appris l'espagnol,\net que lui-m\u00eame, le connaissant, il pourrait lui servir d'interpr\u00e8te.\nCeci lui remit du baume dans le c\u0153ur, et rien n'e\u00fbt pu le dissuader de\nrester pour tenter la conversion des Sauvages. Mais la Providence donna\n\u00e0 toutes ces choses un tour diff\u00e9rent et fort heureux.\nJe reviens maintenant \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re partie de ses reproches.--Quand nous\nf\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s chez les Anglais, je les mandai touts ensemble, et, apr\u00e8s\nleur avoir rappel\u00e9 ce que j'avais fait pour eux, c'est-\u00e0-dire de quels\nobjets n\u00e9cessaires je les avais pourvus et de quelle mani\u00e8re ces objets\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 distribu\u00e9s, ce dont ils \u00e9taient p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9s et reconnaissants,\nje commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 leur parler de la vie scandaleuse qu'ils menaient, et je\nleur r\u00e9p\u00e9tai toutes les remarques que le pr\u00eatre avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 faites \u00e0 cet\n\u00e9gard. Puis, leur d\u00e9montrant combien cette vie \u00e9tait anti-chr\u00e9tienne et\nimpie, je leur demandai s'ils \u00e9taient mari\u00e9s ou c\u00e9libataires. Ils\nm'expos\u00e8rent aussit\u00f4t leur \u00e9tat, et me d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent que deux d'entre eux\n\u00e9taient veufs et les trois autres simplement gar\u00e7ons.--\u00abComment,\npoursuivis-je, avez-vous pu en bonne conscience prendre ces femmes,\ncohabiter avec elles comme vous l'avez fait, les appeler vos \u00e9pouses, en\navoir un si grand nombre d'enfants, sans \u00eatre l\u00e9gitimement mari\u00e9s?\u00bb\nIls me firent touts la r\u00e9ponse \u00e0 laquelle je m'attendais, qu'il n'y\navait eu personne pour les marier; qu'ils s'\u00e9taient engag\u00e9s devant le\ngouverneur \u00e0 les prendre pour \u00e9pouses et \u00e0 les garder et \u00e0 les\nreconna\u00eetre comme telles, et qu'ils pensaient, eu \u00e9gard \u00e0 l'\u00e9tat des\nchoses, qu'ils \u00e9taient aussi l\u00e9gitimement mari\u00e9s que s'ils l'eussent \u00e9t\u00e9\npar un recteur et avec toutes les formalit\u00e9s du monde.\nJe leur r\u00e9pliquai que sans aucun doute ils \u00e9taient unis aux yeux de Dieu\net consciencieusement oblig\u00e9s de garder ces femmes pour \u00e9pouses; mais\nque les lois humaines \u00e9tant touts autres, ils pouvaient pr\u00e9tendre n'\u00eatre\npas li\u00e9s et d\u00e9laisser \u00e0 l'avenir ces malheureuses et leurs enfants; et\nqu'alors leurs \u00e9pouses, pauvres femmes d\u00e9sol\u00e9es, sans amis et sans\nargent, n'auraient aucun moyen de se sortir de peine. Aussi, leur\ndis-je, \u00e0 moins que je ne fusse assur\u00e9 de la droiture de leurs\nintentions, que je ne pouvais rien pour eux; que j'aurais soin que ce\nque je ferais f\u00fbt, \u00e0 leur exclusion, tout au profit de leurs femmes et\nde leurs enfants; et, \u00e0 moins qu'ils ne me donnassent l'assurance qu'ils\n\u00e9pouseraient ces femmes, que je ne pensais pas qu'il f\u00fbt convenable\nqu'ils habitassent plus long-temps ensemble conjugalement; car c'\u00e9tait\ntout \u00e0 la fois scandaleux pour les hommes et offensant pour Dieu, dont\nils ne pouvaient esp\u00e9rer la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction s'ils continuaient de vivre\nainsi.\nTout se passa selon mon attente. Ils me d\u00e9clar\u00e8rent, principalement\nATKINS, qui semblait alors parler pour les autres, qu'ils aimaient leurs\nfemmes autant que si elles fussent n\u00e9es dans leur propre pays natal, et\nqu'ils ne les abandonneraient sous aucun pr\u00e9texte au monde; qu'ils\navaient l'intime croyance qu'elles \u00e9taient tout aussi vertueuses, tout\naussi modestes, et qu'elles faisaient tout ce qui d\u00e9pendait d'elles pour\neux et pour leurs enfants tout aussi bien que quelque femme que ce p\u00fbt\n\u00eatre. Enfin que nulle consid\u00e9ration ne pourrait les en s\u00e9parer. William\nATKINS ajouta, pour son compte, que si quelqu'un voulait l'emmener et\nlui offrait de le reconduire en Angleterre et de le faire capitaine du\nmeilleur navire de guerre de la Marine, il refuserait de partir s'il ne\npouvait transporter avec lui sa femme et ses enfants; et que, s'il se\ntrouvait un eccl\u00e9siastique \u00e0 bord, il se marierait avec elle\nsur-le-champ et de tout c\u0153ur.\nC'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 justement ce que je voulais. Le pr\u00eatre n'\u00e9tait pas avec moi\nen ce moment, mais il n'\u00e9tait pas loin. Je dis donc \u00e0 ATKINS, pour\nl'\u00e9prouver jusqu'au bout, que j'avais avec moi un eccl\u00e9siastique, et\nque, s'il \u00e9tait sinc\u00e8re, je le marierais le lendemain; puis je\nl'engageai \u00e0 y r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir et \u00e0 en causer avec les autres. Il me r\u00e9pondit\nque, quant \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame, il n'avait nullement besoin de r\u00e9flexion, car il\n\u00e9tait fort dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 cela, et fort aise que j'eusse un ministre avec\nmoi. Son opinion \u00e9tait d'ailleurs que touts y consentiraient \u00e9galement.\nJe lui d\u00e9clarai alors que mon ami le ministre \u00e9tait Fran\u00e7ais et ne\nparlait pas anglais; mais que je ferais entre eux l'office de clerc. Il\nne me demanda seulement pas s'il \u00e9tait papiste ou protestant, ce que\nvraiment je redoutais. Jamais m\u00eame il ne fut question de cela. Sur ce\nnous nous s\u00e9par\u00e2mes. Moi je retournai vers mon eccl\u00e9siastique et William\nATKINS rentra pour s'entretenir avec ses compagnons.--Je recommandai au\npr\u00eatre fran\u00e7ais de ne rien leur dire jusqu'\u00e0 ce que l'affaire f\u00fbt\ntout-\u00e0-fait m\u00fbre, et je lui communiquai leur r\u00e9ponse.\nCONVERSION DE WILLIAM ATKINS\nAvant que j'eusse quitt\u00e9 leur habitation ils vinrent touts \u00e0 moi pour\nm'annoncer qu'ils avaient consid\u00e9r\u00e9 ce que je leur avais dit; qu'ils\n\u00e9taient ravis d'apprendre que j'eusse un eccl\u00e9siastique en ma compagnie,\net qu'ils \u00e9taient pr\u00eats \u00e0 me donner la satisfaction que je d\u00e9sirais, et\n\u00e0 se marier dans les formes d\u00e8s que tel serait mon plaisir; car ils\n\u00e9taient bien \u00e9loign\u00e9s de souhaiter de se s\u00e9parer de leurs femmes, et\nn'avaient eu que des vues honn\u00eates quand ils en avaient fait choix.\nJ'arr\u00eatai alors qu'ils viendraient me trouver le lendemain matin, et\ndans cette entrefaite qu'ils expliqueraient \u00e0 leurs femmes le sens de la\nloi du mariage, dont le but n'\u00e9tait pas seulement de pr\u00e9venir le\nscandale, mais de les obliger, eux, \u00e0 ne point les d\u00e9laisser, quoi qu'il\np\u00fbt advenir.\nLes femmes saisirent ais\u00e9ment l'esprit de la chose, et en furent\ntr\u00e8s-satisfaites, comme en effet elles avaient sujet de l'\u00eatre. Aussi ne\nmanqu\u00e8rent-ils pas le lendemain de se r\u00e9unir touts dans mon appartement,\no\u00f9 je produisis mon eccl\u00e9siastique. Quoiqu'il n'e\u00fbt pas la robe d'un\nministre anglican, ni le costume d'un pr\u00eatre fran\u00e7ais, comme il portait\nun v\u00eatement noir, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s en mani\u00e8re de soutane, et nou\u00e9 d'une\nceinture, il ne ressemblait pas trop mal \u00e0 un parleur. Quant au mode de\ncommunication, je fus son interpr\u00e8te.\nLa gravit\u00e9 de ses mani\u00e8res avec eux, et les scrupules qu'il se fit de\nmarier les femmes, parce qu'elles n'\u00e9taient pas baptis\u00e9es et ne\nprofessaient pas la Foi chr\u00e9tienne, leur inspir\u00e8rent une extr\u00eame\nr\u00e9v\u00e9rence pour sa personne. Apr\u00e8s cela il ne leur fut pas n\u00e9cessaire de\ns'enqu\u00e9rir s'il \u00e9tait ou non eccl\u00e9siastique.\nVraiment je craignis que son scrupule ne f\u00fbt pouss\u00e9 si loin, qu'il ne\nvoul\u00fbt pas les marier du tout. Nonobstant tout ce que je pus dire, il me\nr\u00e9sista, avec modestie, mais avec fermet\u00e9; et enfin il refusa absolument\nde les unir, \u00e0 moins d'avoir conf\u00e9r\u00e9 pr\u00e9alablement avec les hommes et\navec les femmes aussi. Bien que d'abord j'y eusse un peu r\u00e9pugn\u00e9, je\nfinis par y consentir de bonne gr\u00e2ce, apr\u00e8s avoir reconnu la sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9\nde ses vues.\nIl commen\u00e7a par leur dire que je l'avais instruit de leur situation et\ndu pr\u00e9sent dessein; qu'il \u00e9tait tout dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 s'acquitter de cette\npartie de son ministre, \u00e0 les marier enfin, comme j'en avais manifest\u00e9\nle d\u00e9sir; mais qu'avant de pouvoir le faire, il devait prendre la\nlibert\u00e9 de s'entretenir avec eux. Alors il me d\u00e9clara qu'aux yeux de\ntout homme et selon l'esprit des lois sociales, ils avaient v\u00e9cu jusqu'\u00e0\ncette heure dans un adult\u00e8re patent, auquel rien que leur consentement \u00e0\nse marier ou \u00e0 se s\u00e9parer effectivement et imm\u00e9diatement ne pouvait\nmettre un terme; mais qu'en cela il s'\u00e9levait m\u00eame, relativement aux\nlois chr\u00e9tiennes du mariage, une difficult\u00e9 qui ne laissait pas de\nl'inqui\u00e9ter, celle d'unir un Chr\u00e9tien \u00e0 une Sauvage, une idol\u00e2tre, une\npayenne, une cr\u00e9ature non baptis\u00e9e; et cependant qu'il ne voyait pas\nqu'il y e\u00fbt le loisir d'amener ces femmes par la voie de la persuasion \u00e0\nse faire baptiser, ou \u00e0 confesser le nom du Christ, dont il doutait\nqu'elles eussent jamais ou\u00ef parler, et sans quoi elles ne pouvaient\nrecevoir le bapt\u00eame.\nIl leur d\u00e9clara encore qu'il pr\u00e9sumait qu'eux-m\u00eames n'\u00e9taient que de\ntr\u00e8s-indiff\u00e9rents Chr\u00e9tiens, n'ayant qu'une faible connaissance de Dieu\net de ses voies; qu'en cons\u00e9quence il ne pouvait s'attendre \u00e0 ce qu'ils\nen eussent dit bien long \u00e0 leurs femmes sur cet article; et que, s'ils\nne voulaient promettre de faire touts leurs efforts aupr\u00e8s d'elles pour\nles persuader de devenir chr\u00e9tiennes et de les instruire de leur mieux\ndans la connaissance et la croyance de Dieu qui les a cr\u00e9\u00e9es, et dans\nl'adoration de J\u00e9sus-Christ qui les a rachet\u00e9es, il ne pourrait\nconsacrer leur union; car il ne voulait point pr\u00eater les mains \u00e0 une\nalliance de Chr\u00e9tiens \u00e0 des Sauvages, chose contraire aux principes de\nla religion chr\u00e9tienne et formellement d\u00e9fendue par la Loi de Dieu.\nIls \u00e9cout\u00e8rent fort attentivement tout ceci, que, sortant de sa bouche,\nje leur transmettais tr\u00e8s-fid\u00e8lement et aussi litt\u00e9ralement que je le\npouvais, ajoutant seulement parfois quelque chose de mon propre, pour\nleur faire sentir combien c'\u00e9tait juste et combien je l'approuvais. Mais\nj'\u00e9tablissais toujours tr\u00e8s-scrupuleusement une distinction entre ce que\nje tirais de moi-m\u00eame et ce qui \u00e9tait les paroles du pr\u00eatre. Ils me\nr\u00e9pondirent que ce que le _gentleman_ avait dit \u00e9tait v\u00e9ritable, qu'ils\nn'\u00e9taient eux-m\u00eames que de tr\u00e8s-indiff\u00e9rents Chr\u00e9tiens, et qu'ils\nn'avaient jamais \u00e0 leurs femmes touch\u00e9 un mot de religion.--\u00abSeigneur\nDieu! sir, s'\u00e9cria WILL ATKINS, comment leur enseignerions-nous la\nreligion? nous n'y entendons rien nous-m\u00eames. D'ailleurs si nous allions\nleur parler de Dieu, de J\u00e9sus-Christ, de Ciel et de l'Enfer, ce serait\nvouloir les faire rire \u00e0 nos d\u00e9pens, et les pousser \u00e0 nous demander\nqu'est-ce que nous-m\u00eames nous croyons; et si nous leur disions que nous\najoutons foi \u00e0 toutes les choses dont nous leur parlons, par exemple,\nque les bons vont au Ciel et les m\u00e9chants en Enfer, elles ne\nmanqueraient pas de nous demander o\u00f9 nous pr\u00e9tendons aller nous-m\u00eames,\nqui croyons \u00e0 tout cela et n'en sommes pas moins de mauvais \u00eatres, comme\nen effet nous le sommes. Vraiment, sir, cela suffirait pour leur\ninspirer tout d'abord du d\u00e9go\u00fbt pour la religion. Il faut avoir de la\nreligion soi-m\u00eame avant de vouloir pr\u00eacher les autres.--\u00abWILL ATKINS,\nlui repartis-je, quoique j'aie peur que ce que vous dites ne soit que\ntrop vrai en soi, ne pourriez-vous cependant r\u00e9pondre \u00e0 votre femme\nqu'elle est plong\u00e9e dans l'erreur; qu'il est un Dieu; qu'il y a une\nreligion meilleure que la sienne; que ses dieux sont des idoles qui ne\npeuvent ni entendre ni parler; qu'il existe un grand \u00catre qui a fait\ntoutes choses et qui a puissance de d\u00e9truire tout ce qu'il a fait; qu'il\nr\u00e9compense le bien et punit le mal; et que nous serons jug\u00e9s par lui \u00e0\nla fin, selon nos \u0153uvres en ce monde? Vous n'\u00eates pas tellement d\u00e9pourvu\nde sens que la nature elle-m\u00eame ne vous ait enseign\u00e9 que tout cela est\nvrai; je suis s\u00fbr que vous savez qu'il en est ainsi, et que vous y\ncroyez vous-m\u00eame.\u00bb\n\u00abCela est juste, sir, r\u00e9pliqua ATKINS; mais de quel front pourrais-je\ndire quelque chose de tout ceci \u00e0 ma femme quand elle me r\u00e9pondrait\nimm\u00e9diatement que ce n'est pas vrai?\u00bb\n--\u00abPas vrai! r\u00e9pliquai-je. Qu'entendez-vous par-l\u00e0?\u00bb--\u00abOui, sir, elle me\ndira qu'il n'est pas vrai que ce Dieu dont je lui parlerai soit juste,\net puisse punir et r\u00e9compenser, puisque je ne suis pas puni et livr\u00e9 \u00e0\nSatan, moi qui ai \u00e9t\u00e9, elle ne le sait que trop, une si mauvaise\ncr\u00e9ature envers elle et envers touts les autres, puisqu'il souffre que\nje vive, moi qui ai toujours agi si contrairement \u00e0 ce qu'il faut que je\nlui pr\u00e9sente comme le bien, et \u00e0 ce que j'eusse d\u00fb faire.\u00bb\n--\u00abOui vraiment, ATKINS, r\u00e9p\u00e9tai-je, j'ai grand peur que tu ne dises\ntrop vrai.\u00bb--Et l\u00e0-dessus je reportai les r\u00e9ponses d'ATKINS \u00e0\nl'eccl\u00e9siastique, qui br\u00fblait de les conna\u00eetre.--\u00abOh! s'\u00e9cria le pr\u00eatre,\ndites-lui qu'il est une chose qui peut le rendre le meilleur ministre du\nmonde aupr\u00e8s de sa femme, et que c'est la repentance; car personne ne\npr\u00eache le repentir comme les vrais p\u00e9nitents. Il ne lui manque que\nl'attrition pour \u00eatre mieux que tout autre en \u00e9tat d'instruire son\n\u00e9pouse. C'est alors qu'il sera qualifi\u00e9 pour lui apprendre que\nnon-seulement il est un Dieu, juste r\u00e9mun\u00e9rateur du bien et du mal, mais\nque ce Dieu est un \u00catre mis\u00e9ricordieux; que, dans sa bont\u00e9 ineffable et\nsa patience infinie, il diff\u00e8re de punir ceux qui l'outragent, \u00e0 dessein\nd'user de cl\u00e9mence, car il ne veut pas la mort du p\u00e9cheur, mais bien\nqu'il revienne \u00e0 soi et qu'il vive; que souvent il souffre que les\nm\u00e9chants parcourent une longue carri\u00e8re; que souvent m\u00eame il ajourne\nleur damnation au jour de l'universelle r\u00e9tribution; et que c'est l\u00e0 une\npreuve \u00e9vidente d'un Dieu et d'une vie future, que les justes ne\nre\u00e7oivent pas leur r\u00e9compense ni les m\u00e9chants leur ch\u00e2timent en ce\nmonde. Ceci le conduira naturellement \u00e0 enseigner \u00e0 sa femme les dogmes\nde la R\u00e9surrection et du Jugement dernier. En v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je vous le dis, que\nseulement il se repente, et il sera pour sa femme un excellent\ninstrument de repentance.\u00bb\nJe r\u00e9p\u00e9tai tout ceci \u00e0 ATKINS, qui l'\u00e9couta d'un air fort grave, et qui,\nil \u00e9tait facile de le voir, en fut extraordinairement affect\u00e9.\nTout-\u00e0-coup, s'impatientant et me laissant \u00e0 peine achever:--\u00abJe sais\ntout cela, _master_, me dit-il, et bien d'autres choses encore; mais je\nn'aurai pas l'impudence de parler ainsi \u00e0 ma femme, quand Dieu et ma\npropre conscience savent, quand ma femme elle-m\u00eame serait contre moi un\nirr\u00e9cusable t\u00e9moin, que j'ai v\u00e9cu comme si je n'eusse jamais ou\u00ef parler\nde Dieu ou d'une vie future ou de rien de semblable; et pour ce qui est\nde mon repentir, h\u00e9las!...--l\u00e0-dessus il poussa un profond soupir et je\nvis ses yeux se mouiller de larmes,--tout est perdu pour moi!\u00bb--\u00abPerdu!\nATKINS; mais qu'entends-tu par l\u00e0?\u00bb--\u00abJe ne sais que trop ce que\nj'entends, sir, r\u00e9pondit-il; j'entends qu'il est trop tard, et que ce\nn'est que trop vrai.\u00bb\nJe traduisis mot pour mot \u00e0 mon eccl\u00e9siastique ce que William venait de\nme dire. Le pauvre pr\u00eatre z\u00e9l\u00e9,--ainsi dois-je l'appeler, car, quelle\nque f\u00fbt sa croyance, il avait assur\u00e9ment une rare sollicitude du salut\nde l'\u00e2me de son prochain, et il serait cruel de penser qu'il n'e\u00fbt pas\nune \u00e9gale sollicitude de son propre salut;--cet homme z\u00e9l\u00e9 et\ncharitable, dis-je, ne put aussi retenir ses larmes; mais, s'\u00e9tant\nremis, il me dit:--\u00abFaites-lui cette seule question: Est-il satisfait\nqu'il soit trop tard ou en est-il chagrin, et souhaiterait-il qu'il n'en\nf\u00fbt pas ainsi.\u00bb--Je posai nettement la question \u00e0 ATKINS, et il me\nr\u00e9pondit avec beaucoup de chaleur:--\u00abComment un homme pourrait-il\ntrouver sa satisfaction dans une situation qui s\u00fbrement doit avoir pour\nfin la mort \u00e9ternelle? Bien loin d'en \u00eatre satisfait, je pense, au\ncontraire, qu'un jour ou l'autre elle causera ma ruine.\u00bb\n--\u00abQu'entendez-vous par l\u00e0?\u00bb lui dis-je. Et il me r\u00e9pliqua qu'il pensait\nen venir, ou plus t\u00f4t ou plus tard, \u00e0 se couper la gorge pour mettre fin\n\u00e0 ses terreurs.\nL'eccl\u00e9siastique hocha la t\u00eate d'un air profond\u00e9ment p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9, quand je\nlui reportai tout cela; et, s'adressant brusquement \u00e0 moi, il me\ndit:--\u00abSi tel est son \u00e9tat, vous pouvez l'assurer qu'il n'est pas trop\ntard. Le Christ lui donnera repentance. Mais, je vous en prie,\najouta-t-il, expliquez-lui ceci. Que comme l'homme n'est sauv\u00e9 que par\nle Christ et le m\u00e9rite de sa Passion interc\u00e9dant la mis\u00e9ricorde divine,\nil n'est jamais trop tard pour rentrer en gr\u00e2ce. Pense-t-il qu'il soit\npossible \u00e0 l'homme de p\u00e9cher au-del\u00e0 des bornes de la puissance\nmis\u00e9ricordieuse de Dieu? Dites-lui, je vous prie, qu'il y a peut-\u00eatre un\ntemps o\u00f9, lass\u00e9e, la gr\u00e2ce divine cesse ses longs efforts, et o\u00f9 Dieu\npeut refuser de pr\u00eater l'oreille; mais que pour l'homme il n'est jamais\ntrop tard pour implorer merci; que nous, qui sommes serviteurs du\nChrist, nous avons pour mission de pr\u00eacher le pardon en tout temps, au\nnom de J\u00e9sus-Christ, \u00e0 touts ceux qui se repentent sinc\u00e8rement. Donc ce\nn'est jamais trop tard pour se repentir.\u00bb\nJe r\u00e9p\u00e9tai tout ceci \u00e0 ATKINS. Il m'\u00e9couta avec empressement; mais il\nparut vouloir remettre la fin de l'entretien, car il me dit qu'il\nd\u00e9sirait sortir pour causer un peu avec sa femme. Il se retira en effet,\net nous suiv\u00eemes avec ses compagnons. Je m'apper\u00e7us qu'ils \u00e9taient touts\nignorants jusqu'\u00e0 la stupidit\u00e9 en mati\u00e8re de religion, comme je l'\u00e9tais\nmoi-m\u00eame quand je m'enfuis de chez mon p\u00e8re pour courir le monde.\nCependant aucun d'eux ne s'\u00e9tait montr\u00e9 inattentif \u00e0 ce qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9\ndit; et touts promirent s\u00e9rieusement d'en parler \u00e0 leurs femmes, et\nd'employer touts leurs efforts pour les persuader de se faire\nchr\u00e9tiennes.\nMARIAGES\nL'eccl\u00e9siastique sourit lorsque je lui rendis leur r\u00e9ponse; mais il\ngarda long-temps le silence. \u00c0 la fin pourtant, secouant la t\u00eate:--Nous\nqui sommes serviteurs du Christ, dit-il, nous ne pouvons qu'exhorter et\ninstruire; quand les hommes se soumettent et se conforment \u00e0 nos\ncensures, et promettent ce que nous demandons, notre pouvoir s'arr\u00eate\nl\u00e0; nous sommes tenus d'accepter leurs bonnes paroles. Mais croyez-moi,\nsir, continua-t-il, quoi que vous ayez pu apprendre de la vie de cet\nhomme que vous nommez William ATKINS, j'ai la conviction qu'il est parmi\neux le seul sinc\u00e8rement converti. Je le regarde comme un vrai p\u00e9nitent.\nNon que je d\u00e9sesp\u00e8re des autres. Mais cet homme-ci est profond\u00e9ment\nfrapp\u00e9 des \u00e9garements de sa vie pass\u00e9e, et je ne doute pas que lorsqu'il\nviendra \u00e0 parler de religion \u00e0 sa femme, il ne s'en p\u00e9n\u00e8tre lui-m\u00eame\nefficacement; car s'efforcer d'instruire les autres est souvent le\nmeilleur moyen de s'instruire soi-m\u00eame. J'ai connu un homme qui,\najouta-t-il, n'ayant de la religion que des notions sommaires, et menant\nune vie au plus haut point coupable et perdue de d\u00e9bauches, en vint \u00e0\nune compl\u00e8te r\u00e9sipiscence en s'appliquant \u00e0 convertir un Juif. Si donc\nle pauvre ATKINS se met une fois \u00e0 parler s\u00e9rieusement de J\u00e9sus-Christ \u00e0\nsa femme, ma vie \u00e0 parier qu'il entre par-l\u00e0 lui-m\u00eame dans la voie d'une\nenti\u00e8re conversion et d'une sinc\u00e8re p\u00e9nitence. Et qui sait ce qui peut\ns'ensuivre?\u00bb\nD'apr\u00e8s cette conversation cependant, et les susdites promesses de\ns'efforcer \u00e0 persuader aux femmes d'embrasser le Christianisme, le\npr\u00eatre maria les trois couples pr\u00e9sents. WILL ATKINS et sa femme\nn'\u00e9taient pas encore rentr\u00e9s. Les \u00e9pousailles faites, apr\u00e8s avoir\nattendu quelque temps, mon eccl\u00e9siastique fut curieux de savoir o\u00f9 \u00e9tait\nall\u00e9 ATKINS; et, se tournant vers moi, il me dit:--\u00abSir, je vous en\nsupplie, sortons de votre labyrinthe, et allons voir. J'ose avancer que\nnous trouverons par l\u00e0 ce pauvre homme causant s\u00e9rieusement avec sa\nfemme, et lui enseignant d\u00e9j\u00e0 quelque chose de la religion.\u00bb--Je\ncommen\u00e7ais \u00e0 \u00eatre de m\u00eame avis. Nous sort\u00eemes donc ensemble, et je le\nmenai par un chemin qui n'\u00e9tait connu que de moi, et o\u00f9 les arbres\ns'\u00e9levaient si \u00e9pais qu'il n'\u00e9tait pas facile de voir \u00e0 travers les\ntouffes de feuillage, qui permettaient encore moins d'\u00eatre vu qu'elles\nne laissaient voir. Quand nous f\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 la rive du bois,\nj'apper\u00e7us ATKINS et sa sauvage \u00e9pouse au teint basan\u00e9 assis \u00e0 l'ombre\nd'un buisson et engag\u00e9s dans une conversation anim\u00e9e. Je restai coi\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que mon eccl\u00e9siastique m'e\u00fbt rejoint; et alors, lui ayant\nmontr\u00e9 o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient, nous f\u00eemes halte et les examin\u00e2mes long-temps\navec la plus grande attention.\nNous remarqu\u00e2mes qu'il la sollicitait vivement en lui montrant du doigt\nl\u00e0-haut le soleil et toutes les r\u00e9gions des cieux; puis en bas la terre,\npuis au loin la mer, puis lui-m\u00eame, puis elle, puis les bois et les\narbres.--\u00abOr, me dit mon eccl\u00e9siastique, vous le voyez, voici que mes\nparoles se v\u00e9rifient: il la pr\u00eache. Observez-le; maintenant il lui\nenseigne que notre Dieu les a faits, elle et lui, de m\u00eame que le\nfirmament, la terre, la mer, les bois et les arbres.--\u00abJe le crois\naussi, lui r\u00e9pondis-je.\u00bb--Aussit\u00f4t nous v\u00eemes ATKINS se lever, puis se\njeter \u00e0 genoux en \u00e9levant ses deux mains vers le ciel. Nous suppos\u00e2mes\nqu'il prof\u00e9rait quelque chose, mais nous ne p\u00fbmes l'entendre: nous\n\u00e9tions trop \u00e9loign\u00e9s pour cela. Il resta \u00e0 peine une demi-minute\nagenouill\u00e9, revint s'asseoir pr\u00e8s de sa femme et lui parla derechef.\nNous remarqu\u00e2mes alors combien elle \u00e9tait attentive; mais gardait-elle\nle silence ou parlait-elle, c'est ce que nous n'aurions su dire. Tandis\nque ce pauvre homme \u00e9tait agenouill\u00e9, j'avais vu des larmes couler en\nabondance sur les joues de mon eccl\u00e9siastique, et j'avais eu peine\nmoi-m\u00eame \u00e0 me retenir. Mais c'\u00e9tait un grand chagrin pour nous que de ne\npas \u00eatre assez pr\u00e8s pour entendre quelque chose de ce qui s'agitait\nentre eux.\nCependant nous ne pouvions approcher davantage, de peur de les troubler.\nNous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes donc d'attendre la fin de cette conversation silencieuse,\nqui d'ailleurs nous parlait assez haut sans le secours de la voix.\nATKINS, comme je l'ai dit, s'\u00e9tait assis de nouveau tout aupr\u00e8s de sa\nfemme, et lui parlait derechef avec chaleur. Deux ou trois fois nous\np\u00fbmes voir qu'il l'embrassait passionn\u00e9ment. Une autre fois nous le\nv\u00eemes prendre son mouchoir, lui essuyer les yeux, puis l'embrasser\nencore avec des transports d'une nature vraiment singuli\u00e8re. Enfin,\napr\u00e8s plusieurs choses semblables, nous le v\u00eemes se relever tout-\u00e0-coup,\nlui tendre la main pour l'aider \u00e0 faire de m\u00eame, puis, la tenant ainsi,\nla conduire aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 quelques pas de l\u00e0, o\u00f9 touts deux\ns'agenouill\u00e8rent et rest\u00e8rent dans cette attitude deux minutes environ.\nMon ami ne se poss\u00e9dait plus. Il s'\u00e9cria:--\u00abSaint Paul! saint Paul!\nvoyez, il prie!\u00bb--Je craignis qu'ATKINS ne l'entendit: je le conjurai de\nse mod\u00e9rer pendant quelques instants, afin que nous pussions voir la fin\nde cette sc\u00e8ne, qui, pour moi, je dois le confesser, fut bien tout \u00e0 la\nfois la plus touchante et la plus agr\u00e9able que j'aie jamais vue de ma\nvie. Il chercha en effet \u00e0 se rendre ma\u00eetre de lui; mais il \u00e9tait dans\nde tels ravissements de penser que cette pauvre femme payenne \u00e9tait\ndevenue chr\u00e9tienne, qu'il lui fut impossible de se contenir, et qu'il\nversa des larmes \u00e0 plusieurs reprises. Levant les mains vers le ciel et\nse signant la poitrine, il faisait des oraisons jaculatoires pour rendre\ngr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu d'une preuve si miraculeuse du succ\u00e8s de nos efforts;\ntant\u00f4t il parlait tout bas et je pouvais \u00e0 peine entendre, tant\u00f4t \u00e0 voix\nhaute, tant\u00f4t en latin, tant\u00f4t en fran\u00e7ais; deux ou trois fois des\nlarmes de joie l'interrompirent et \u00e9touff\u00e8rent ses paroles tout-\u00e0-fait.\nJe le conjurai de nouveau de se calmer, afin que nous pussions observer\nde plus pr\u00e8s et plus compl\u00e8tement ce qui se passait sous nos yeux, ce\nqu'il fit pour quelque temps. La sc\u00e8ne n'\u00e9tait pas finie; car, apr\u00e8s\nqu'ils se furent relev\u00e9s, nous v\u00eemes encore le pauvre homme parler avec\nardeur \u00e0 sa femme, et nous reconn\u00fbmes \u00e0 ses gestes qu'elle \u00e9tait\nvivement touch\u00e9e de ce qu'il disait: elle levait fr\u00e9quemment les mains\nau ciel, elle posait une main sur sa poitrine, ou prenait telles autres\nattitudes qui d\u00e9c\u00e8lent d'ordinaire une componction profonde et une\ns\u00e9rieuse attention. Ceci dura un demi-quart d'heure environ. Puis ils\ns'\u00e9loign\u00e8rent trop pour que nous pussions les \u00e9pier plus long-temps.\nJe saisis cet instant pour adresser la parole \u00e0 mon religieux, et je lui\ndis d'abord que j'\u00e9tais charm\u00e9 d'avoir vu dans ses d\u00e9tails ce dont nous\nvenions d'\u00eatre t\u00e9moins; que, malgr\u00e9 que je fusse assez incr\u00e9dule en\npareils cas, je me laissais cependant aller \u00e0 croire qu'ici tout \u00e9tait\nfort sinc\u00e8re, tant de la part du mari que de celle de la femme, quelle\nque p\u00fbt \u00eatre d'ailleurs leur ignorance, et que j'esp\u00e9rais, qu'un tel\ncommencement aurait encore une fin plus heureuse.--\u00abEt qui sait,\najoutai-je, si ces deux-l\u00e0 ne pourront pas avec le temps, par la voie de\nl'enseignement et de l'exemple, op\u00e9rer sur quelques autres?\u00bb--\u00abQuelques\nautres, reprit-il en se tournant brusquement vers moi, voire m\u00eame sur\ntouts les autres. Faites fond l\u00e0-dessus: si ces deux Sauvages,--car lui,\n\u00e0 votre propre dire, n'a gu\u00e8re, laiss\u00e9 voir qu'il val\u00fbt\nmieux,--s'adonnent \u00e0 J\u00e9sus-Christ, ils n'auront pas de cesse qu'ils\nn'aient converti touts les autres; car la vraie religion est\nnaturellement communicative, et celui qui une bonne fois s'est fait\nChr\u00e9tien ne laissera jamais un payen derri\u00e8re lui s'il peut le\nsauver.\u00bb--J'avouai que penser ainsi \u00e9tait un principe vraiment chr\u00e9tien,\net la preuve d'un z\u00e8le v\u00e9ritable et d'un c\u0153ur g\u00e9n\u00e9reux en soi.--\u00abMais,\nmon ami, poursuivis-je, voulez-vous me permettre de soulever ici une\ndifficult\u00e9? Je n'ai pas la moindre chose \u00e0 objecter contre le fervent\nint\u00e9r\u00eat que vous d\u00e9ployez pour convertir ces pauvres gens du paganisme \u00e0\nla religion chr\u00e9tienne; mais quelle consolation en pouvez-vous tirer,\npuisque, \u00e0 votre sens, ils sont hors du giron de l'\u00c9glise catholique,\nhors de laquelle vous croyez qu'il n'y a point de salut? Ce ne sont\ntoujours \u00e0 vos yeux que des h\u00e9r\u00e9tiques, et, pour cent raisons, aussi\neffectivement damn\u00e9s que les payens eux-m\u00eames.\u00bb\n\u00c0 ceci il r\u00e9pondit avec beaucoup de candeur et de charit\u00e9\nchr\u00e9tienne:--\u00abSir, je suis catholique de l'\u00c9glise romaine et pr\u00eatre de\nl'ordre de Saint-Beno\u00eet, et je professe touts les principes de la Foi\nromaine; mais cependant, croyez-moi, et ce n'est pas comme compliment\nque je vous dis cela, ni eu \u00e9gard \u00e0 ma position et \u00e0 vos amiti\u00e9s, je ne\nvous regarde pas, vous qui vous appelez vous-m\u00eame _r\u00e9form\u00e9s_, sans\nquelque sentiment charitable. Je n'oserais dire, quoique je sache que\nc'est en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral notre opinion, je n'oserais dire que vous ne pouvez\n\u00eatre sauv\u00e9s, je ne pr\u00e9tends en aucune mani\u00e8re limiter la mis\u00e9ricorde du\nChrist jusque-l\u00e0 de penser qu'il ne puisse vous recevoir dans le sein de\nson \u00c9glise par des voies \u00e0 nous impalpables, et qu'il nous est\nimpossible de conna\u00eetre, et j'esp\u00e8re que vous avez la m\u00eame charit\u00e9 pour\nnous. Je prie chaque jour pour que vous soyez touts restitu\u00e9s \u00e0 l'\u00c9glise\ndu Christ, de quelque mani\u00e8re qu'il plaise \u00e0 Celui qui est infiniment\nsage de vous y ramener. En attendant vous reconna\u00eetrez s\u00fbrement qu'il\nm'appartient, comme catholique, d'\u00e9tablir une grande diff\u00e9rence entre un\nProtestant et un payen; entre celui qui invoque J\u00e9sus-Christ, quoique\ndans un mode que je ne juge pas conforme \u00e0 la v\u00e9ritable Foi, et un\nSauvage, un barbare, qui ne conna\u00eet ni Dieu, ni Christ, ni R\u00e9dempteur.\nSi vous n'\u00eates pas dans le giron de l'\u00c9glise catholique, nous esp\u00e9rons\nque vous \u00eates plus pr\u00e8s d'y entrer que ceux-l\u00e0 qui ne connaissent\naucunement ni Dieu ni son \u00c9glise. C'est pourquoi je me r\u00e9jouis quand je\nvois ce pauvre homme, que vous me dites avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 un d\u00e9bauch\u00e9 et presque\nun meurtrier, s'agenouiller et prier J\u00e9sus-Christ, comme nous supposons\nqu'il a fait, malgr\u00e9 qu'il ne soit pas pleinement \u00e9clair\u00e9, dans la\npersuasion o\u00f9 je suis que Dieu de qui toute \u0153uvre semblable proc\u00e8de,\ntouchera sensiblement son c\u0153ur, et le conduira, en son temps, \u00e0 une\nconnaissance plus profonde de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9. Et si Dieu inspire \u00e0 ce pauvre\nhomme de convertir et d'instruire l'ignorante Sauvage son \u00e9pouse, je ne\npuis croire qu'il le repoussera lui-m\u00eame. N'ai-je donc pas raison de me\nr\u00e9jouir lorsque je vois quelqu'un amen\u00e9 \u00e0 la connaissance du Christ,\nquoiqu'il ne puisse \u00eatre apport\u00e9 jusque dans le sein de l'\u00c9glise\ncatholique, juste \u00e0 l'heure o\u00f9 je puis le d\u00e9sirer, tout en laissant \u00e0 la\nbont\u00e9 du Christ le soin de parfaire son \u0153uvre en son temps et par ses\npropres voies? Certes que je me r\u00e9jouirais si touts les Sauvages de\nl'Am\u00e9rique \u00e9taient amen\u00e9s, comme cette pauvre femme, \u00e0 prier Dieu,\ndussent-ils \u00eatre touts protestants d'abord, plut\u00f4t que de les voir\npersister dans le paganisme et l'idol\u00e2trie, fermement convaincu que je\nserais que Celui qui aurait \u00e9panch\u00e9 sur eux cette lumi\u00e8re daignerait\nplus tard les illuminer d'un rayon de sa c\u00e9leste gr\u00e2ce; et les\nrecueillir dans le bercail de son \u00c9glise, alors que bon lui semblerait.\u00bb\nJe fus autant \u00e9tonn\u00e9 de la sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 et de la mod\u00e9ration de ce Papiste\nv\u00e9ritablement pieux, que terrass\u00e9 par la force de sa dialectique, et il\nme vint en ce moment \u00e0 l'esprit que si une pareille mod\u00e9ration \u00e9tait\nuniverselle, nous pourrions \u00eatre touts chr\u00e9tiens catholiques, quelle que\nf\u00fbt l'\u00c9glise ou la communion particuli\u00e8re \u00e0 laquelle nous\nappartinssions; que l'esprit de charit\u00e9 bient\u00f4t nous insinuerait touts\ndans de droits principes; et, en un mot, comme il pensait qu'une\nsemblable charit\u00e9 nous rendrait touts catholiques, je lui dis qu'\u00e0 mon\nsens si touts les membres de son \u00c9glise professaient la m\u00eame tol\u00e9rance\nils seraient bient\u00f4t touts protestants. Et nous bris\u00e2mes l\u00e0, car nous\nn'entrions jamais en controverse.\nCependant, changeant de langage, et lui prenant la main.--\u00abMon ami, lui\ndis-je, je souhaiterais que tout le clerg\u00e9 de l'\u00c9glise romaine f\u00fbt dou\u00e9\nd'une telle mod\u00e9ration, et d'une charit\u00e9 \u00e9gale \u00e0 la v\u00f4tre. Je suis\nenti\u00e8rement de votre opinion; mais je dois vous dire que si vous\npr\u00eachiez une pareille doctrine en Espagne ou en Italie on vous livrerait\n\u00e0 l'Inquisition.\u00bb\n--\u00abCela se peut, r\u00e9pondit-il. J'ignore ce que feraient les Espagnols ou\nles Italiens; mais je ne dirai pas qu'ils en soient meilleurs Chr\u00e9tiens\npour cette rigueur: car ma conviction est qu'il n'y a point d'h\u00e9r\u00e9sie\ndans un exc\u00e8s de charit\u00e9.\u00bb\nDIALOGUE\nWILL ATKINS et sa femme \u00e9tant partis, nous n'avions que faire en ce\nlieu. Nous rebrouss\u00e2mes donc chemin; et, comme nous nous en retournions,\nnous les trouv\u00e2mes qui attendaient qu'on les f\u00eet entrer. Lorsque je les\neus apper\u00e7us, je demandai \u00e0 mon eccl\u00e9siastique si nous devions ou non\nd\u00e9couvrir \u00e0 ATKINS que nous l'avions vu pr\u00e8s du buisson. Il fut d'avis\nque nous ne le devions pas, mais qu'il fallait lui parler d'abord et\n\u00e9couter ce qu'il nous dirait. Nous l'appel\u00e2mes donc en particulier, et,\npersonne n'\u00e9tant l\u00e0 que nous-m\u00eames, je liai avec lui en ces termes:\n--\u00abComment f\u00fbtes-vous \u00e9lev\u00e9, WILL ATKINS, je vous prie? Qu'\u00e9tait votre\np\u00e8re?\u00bb\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Un meilleur homme que je ne serai jamais, sir; mon p\u00e8re\n\u00e9tait un eccl\u00e9siastique.\nROBINSON CRUSOE.--Quelle \u00e9ducation vous donna-t-il?\nW. A.--Il aurait d\u00e9sir\u00e9 me voir instruit, sir; mais je m\u00e9prisai toute\n\u00e9ducation, instruction ou correction, comme une brute que j'\u00e9tais.\nR. C.--C'est vrai, Salomon a dit:--\u00abCelui qui repousse le bl\u00e2me est\nsemblable \u00e0 la brute.\u00bb\nW. A.--Ah! sir, j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 comme la brute en effet; j'ai tu\u00e9 mon p\u00e8re!\nPour l'amour de Dieu, sir, ne me parlez point de cela, sir; j'ai\nassassin\u00e9 mon pauvre p\u00e8re!\nLE PR\u00caTRE.--Ha? un meurtrier?\nIci le pr\u00eatre tressaillit et devint p\u00e2le,--car je lui traduisais mot\npour mot les paroles d'ATKINS. Il paraissait croire que Will avait\nr\u00e9ellement tu\u00e9 son p\u00e8re.\nROBINSON CRUSOE--Non, non, sir, je ne l'entends pas ainsi. Mais ATKINS,\nexpliquez-vous: n'est-ce pas que vous n'avez pas tu\u00e9 votre p\u00e8re de vos\npropres mains?\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Non, sir; je ne lui ai pas coup\u00e9 la gorge; mais j'ai\ntari la source de ses joies, mais j'ai accourci ses jours. Je lui ai\nbris\u00e9 le c\u0153ur en payant de la plus noire ingratitude le plus tendre et\nle plus affectueux traitement que jamais p\u00e8re ait pu faire \u00e9prouver ou\nqu'enfant ait jamais re\u00e7u.\nR. C.--C'est bien. Je ne vous ai pas questionn\u00e9 sur votre p\u00e8re pour vous\narracher cet aveu. Je prie Dieu de vous en donner repentir et de vous\npardonner cela ainsi que touts vos autres p\u00e9ch\u00e9s. Je ne vous ai fait\ncette question que parce que je vois, quoique vous ne soyez pas\ntr\u00e8s-docte, que vous n'\u00eates pas aussi ignorant que tant d'autres dans la\nscience du bien, et que vous en savez en fait de religion beaucoup plus\nque vous n'en avez pratiqu\u00e9.\nW. A--Quand vous ne m'auriez pas, sir, arrach\u00e9 la confession que je\nviens de vous faire sur mon p\u00e8re, ma conscience l'e\u00fbt faite. Toutes les\nfois que nous venons \u00e0 jeter un regard en arri\u00e8re sur notre vie, les\np\u00e9ch\u00e9s contre nos indulgents parents sont certes, parmi touts ceux que\nnous pouvons commettre, les premiers qui nous touchent: les blessures\nqu'ils font sont les plus profondes, et le poids qu'ils laissent p\u00e8se le\nplus lourdement sur le c\u0153ur.\nR. C.--Vous parlez, pour moi, avec trop de sentiment et de sensibilit\u00e9,\nATKINS, je ne saurais le supporter.\nW. A.--Vous le pouvez, master! J'ose croire que tout ceci vous est\n\u00e9tranger.\nR. C.--Oui, ATKINS, chaque rivage, chaque colline, je dirai m\u00eame chaque\narbre de cette \u00eele, est un t\u00e9moin des angoisses de mon \u00e2me au\nressentiment de mon ingratitude et de mon indigne conduite envers un bon\net tendre p\u00e8re, un p\u00e8re qui ressemblait beaucoup au v\u00f4tre, d'apr\u00e8s la\npeinture que vous en faites. Comme vous, WILL ATKINS, j'ai assassin\u00e9 mon\np\u00e8re, mais je crois ma repentance de beaucoup surpass\u00e9e par la v\u00f4tre.\nJ'en aurais dit davantage si j'eusse pu ma\u00eetriser mon agitation; mais le\nrepentir de ce pauvre homme me semblait tellement plus profond que le\nmien, que je fus sur le point de briser l\u00e0 et de me retirer. J'\u00e9tais\nstup\u00e9fait de ses paroles; je voyais que bien loin que je dusse remontrer\net instruire cet homme, il \u00e9tait devenu pour moi un ma\u00eetre et un\npr\u00e9cepteur, et cela de la fa\u00e7on la plus surprenante et la plus\ninattendue.\nJ'exposai tout ceci au jeune eccl\u00e9siastique, qui en fut grandement\np\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9, et me dit:--\u00abEh bien, n'avais-je pas pr\u00e9dit qu'une fois que cet\nhomme serait converti, il nous pr\u00eacherait touts? En v\u00e9rit\u00e9, sir, je vous\nle d\u00e9clare, si cet homme devient un vrai p\u00e9nitent, on n'aura pas besoin\nde moi ici; il fera des Chr\u00e9tiens de touts les habitants de\nl'\u00eele.\u00bb--M'\u00e9tant un peu remis de mon \u00e9motion, je renouai conversation\navec WILL ATKINS.\n\u00abMais Will, dis-je, d'o\u00f9 vient que le sentiment de ces fautes vous\ntouche pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment \u00e0 cette heure?\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Sir, vous m'avez mis \u00e0 une \u0153uvre qui m'a transperc\u00e9\nl'\u00e2me. J'ai parl\u00e9 \u00e0 ma femme de Dieu et de religion, \u00e0 dessein, selon vos\nvues, de la faire chr\u00e9tienne, et elle m'a pr\u00each\u00e9, elle-m\u00eame, un sermon\ntel que je ne l'oublierai de ma vie.\nROBINSON CRUSOE.--Non, non, ce n'est pas votre femme qui vous a pr\u00each\u00e9;\nmais lorsque vous la pressiez de vos arguments religieux, votre\nconscience les r\u00e9torquait contre vous.\nW. A.--Oh! oui, sir, et d'une telle force que je n'eusse pu y r\u00e9sister.\nR. C.--Je vous en prie, Will, faites-nous conna\u00eetre ce qui se passait\nentre vous et votre femme; j'en sais quelque chose d\u00e9j\u00e0.\nW. A.--Sir, il me serait impossible de vous en donner un r\u00e9cit parfait.\nJ'en suis trop plein pour le taire, cependant la parole me manque pour\nl'exprimer. Mais, quoiqu'elle ait dit, et bien que je ne puisse vous en\nrendre compte, je puis toutefois vous en d\u00e9clarer ceci, que je suis\nr\u00e9solu \u00e0 m'amender et \u00e0 r\u00e9former ma vie.\nR. C.--De gr\u00e2ce, dites-nous en quelques mots. Comment commen\u00e7\u00e2tes-vous,\nWill? Chose certaine, le cas a \u00e9t\u00e9 extraordinaire. C'est effectivement\nun sermon qu'elle vous a pr\u00each\u00e9, si elle a op\u00e9r\u00e9 sur vous cet\namendement.\nW. A.--Eh bien, je lui exposai d'abord la nature de nos lois sur le\nmariage, et les raisons pour lesquelles l'homme et la femme sont dans\nl'obligation de former des n\u0153uds tels qu'il ne soit au pouvoir ni de\nl'un ni de l'autre de les rompre; qu'autrement l'ordre et la justice ne\npourraient \u00eatre maintenus; que les hommes r\u00e9pudieraient leurs femmes et\nabandonneraient leurs enfants, et vivraient dans la promiscuit\u00e9, et que\nles familles ne pourraient se perp\u00e9tuer ni les h\u00e9ritages se r\u00e9gler par\nune descendance l\u00e9gale.\nR. C.--Vous parlez comme un l\u00e9giste, Will. Mais p\u00fbtes-vous lui faire\ncomprendre ce que vous entendez par h\u00e9ritage et famille? On ne sait rien\nde cela parmi les Sauvages, on s'y marie n'importe comment, sans avoir\n\u00e9gard \u00e0 la parent\u00e9, \u00e0 la consanguinit\u00e9 ou \u00e0 la famille: le fr\u00e8re avec la\ns\u0153ur, et m\u00eame, comme il m'a \u00e9t\u00e9 dit, le p\u00e8re avec la fille, le fils avec\nla m\u00e8re.\nW. A.--Je crois, sir, que vous \u00eates mal inform\u00e9;--ma femme m'assure le\ncontraire, et qu'ils ont horreur de cela. Peut-\u00eatre pour quelques\nparent\u00e9s plus \u00e9loign\u00e9es ne sont-ils pas aussi rigides que nous; mais\nelle m'affirme qu'il n'y a point d'alliance dans les proches degr\u00e9s dont\nvous parlez.\nR. C.--Soit. Et que r\u00e9pondit-elle \u00e0 ce que vous lui disiez?\nW. A.--Elle r\u00e9pondit que cela lui semblait fort bien, et que c'\u00e9tait\nbeaucoup mieux que dans son pays.\nR. C.--Mais lui avez-vous expliqu\u00e9 ce que c'est que le mariage.\nW. A.--Oui, oui; l\u00e0 commen\u00e7a notre dialogue. Je lui demandai si elle\nvoulait se marier avec moi \u00e0 notre mani\u00e8re. Elle me demanda de quelle\nmani\u00e8re \u00e9tait-ce. Je lui r\u00e9pondis que le mariage avait \u00e9t\u00e9 institu\u00e9 par\nDieu; et c'est alors que nous e\u00fbmes ensemble en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 le plus \u00e9trange\nentretien qu'aient jamais eu mari et femme, je crois.\n_N. B._ Voici ce dialogue entre W. ATKINS et sa femme, tel que je le\ncouchai par \u00e9crit, imm\u00e9diatement apr\u00e8s qu'il me le rapporta.\nLA FEMME.--Institu\u00e9 par votre Dieu! Comment! vous avoir un Dieu dans\nvotre pays?\nWilliam ATKINS.--Oui, ma ch\u00e8re, Dieu est dans touts les pays.\nLA FEMME--Pas votre Dieu dans mon pays; mon pays avoir le grand vieux\nDieu Benamuck\u00e9e.\nW. A.--Enfant, je ne suis pas assez habile pour vous d\u00e9montrer ce que\nc'est que Dieu: Dieu est dans le Ciel, et il a fait le ciel et la terre\net la mer, et tout ce qui s'y trouve.\nLA FEMME.--Pas fait la terre; votre Dieu pas fait la terre; pas fait mon\npays.\nWILL ATKINS sourit \u00e0 ces mots: que Dieu n'avait pas fait son pays.\nLA FEMME.--Pas rire. Pourquoi me rire? \u00e7a pas chose \u00e0 rire.\nIl \u00e9tait bl\u00e2m\u00e9 \u00e0 bon droit; car elle se montrait plus grave que lui-m\u00eame\nd'abord.\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--C'est tr\u00e8s-vrai. Je ne rirai plus, ma ch\u00e8re.\nLA FEMME.--Pourquoi vous dire, votre Dieu a fait tout?\nW. A.--Oui, enfant, notre Dieu a fait le monde entier, et vous, et moi,\net toutes choses; car il est le seul vrai Dieu. Il n'y a point d'autre\nDieu que lui. Il habite \u00e0 jamais dans le Ciel.\nLA FEMME.--Pourquoi vous pas dire \u00e7a \u00e0 moi depuis long-temps?\nW. A.--C'est vrai. En effet; mais j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 un grand mis\u00e9rable, et j'ai\nnon-seulement oubli\u00e9 jusqu'ici de t'instruire de tout cela, mais encore\nj'ai v\u00e9cu moi-m\u00eame comme s'il n'y avait pas de Dieu au monde.\nLA FEMME.--Quoi! vous avoir le grand Dieu dans votre pays; vous pas\nconna\u00eetre lui? Pas dire: O! \u00e0 lui? Pas faire bonne chose pour lui? \u00c7a\npas possible!\nW. A.--Tout cela n'est que trop vrai: nous vivons comme s'il n'y avait\npas un Dieu dans le Ciel ou qu'il n'e\u00fbt point de pouvoir sur la terre.\nLA FEMME.--Mais pourquoi Dieu laisse vous faire ainsi? Pourquoi lui pas\nfaire vous bien vivre?\nW. A.--C'est enti\u00e8rement notre faute.\nLA FEMME.--Mais vous dire \u00e0 moi, lui \u00eatre grand, beaucoup grand, avoir\nbeaucoup grand puissance; pouvoir faire tuer quand lui vouloir: pourquoi\nlui pas faire tuer vous quand vous pas servir lui? pas dire O! \u00e0 lui?\npas \u00eatre bons hommes?\nW. A.--Tu dis vrai; il pourrait me frapper de mort, et je devrais m'y\nattendre, car j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 un profond mis\u00e9rable. Tu dis vrai; mais Dieu est\nmis\u00e9ricordieux et ne nous traite pas comme nous le m\u00e9ritons.\nLA FEMME.--Mais alors vous pas dire \u00e0 Dieu merci pour cela?\nW. A.--Non, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9, je n'ai pas plus remerci\u00e9 Dieu pour sa\nmis\u00e9ricorde que je n'ai redout\u00e9 Dieu pour son pouvoir.\nLA FEMME.--Alors votre Dieu pas Dieu; moi non penser, moi non croire lui\n\u00eatre un tel grand beaucoup pouvoir, fort; puisque pas faire tuer vous,\nquoique vous faire lui beaucoup col\u00e8re?\nCONVERSION DE LA FEMME D'ATKINS\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Quoi! ma coupable vie vous emp\u00eacherait-elle de croire\nen Dieu! Quelle affreuse cr\u00e9ature je suis! Et quelle triste v\u00e9rit\u00e9 est\ncelle-l\u00e0: que la vie inf\u00e2me des Chr\u00e9tiens emp\u00eache la conversion des\nidol\u00e2tres?\nLA FEMME.--Comment! moi penser vous avoir grand beaucoup Dieu\nl\u00e0-haut,--du doigt elle montrait le ciel,--cependant pas faire bien, pas\nfaire bonne chose? Pouvoir lui savoir? S\u00fbrement lui pas savoir quoi vous\nfaire?\nW. A.--Oui, oui, il conna\u00eet et voit toutes choses; il nous entend\nparler, voit ce que nous faisons, sait ce que nous pensons, m\u00eame quand\nnous ne parlons pas.\nLA FEMME.--Non! lui pas entendre vous maudire, vous jurer, vous dire le\ngrand _god-damn!_\nW. A.--Si, si, il entend tout cela.\nLA FEMME.--O\u00f9 \u00eatre alors son grand pouvoir fort?\nW. A.--Il est mis\u00e9ricordieux: c'est tout ce que nous pouvons dire; et\ncela prouve qu'il est le vrai Dieu. Il est Dieu et non homme; et c'est\npour cela que nous ne sommes point an\u00e9antis.\nWILL ATKINS nous dit ici qu'il \u00e9tait saisi d'horreur en pensant comment\nil avait pu annoncer si clairement \u00e0 sa femme que Dieu voit, entend, et\nconna\u00eet les secr\u00e8tes pens\u00e9es du c\u0153ur, et tout ce que nous faisons,\nencore qu'il e\u00fbt os\u00e9 commettre toutes les m\u00e9prisables choses dont il\n\u00e9tait coupable.\nLA FEMME.--_Mis\u00e9ricordieux_! quoi vous appeler \u00e7a?\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Il est notre p\u00e8re et notre Cr\u00e9ateur; il a piti\u00e9 de nous\net nous \u00e9pargne.\nLA FEMME.--Ainsi donc lui jamais faire tuer, jamais col\u00e8re quand faire\nm\u00e9chant; alors lui pas bon lui-m\u00eame ou pas grand capable.\nW. A.--Si, si, ma ch\u00e8re, il est infiniment bon et infiniment grand et\ncapable de punir. Souventes fois m\u00eame, afin de donner des preuves de sa\njustice et de sa vengeance, il laisse sa col\u00e8re se r\u00e9pandre pour\nd\u00e9truire les p\u00e9cheurs et faire exemple. Beaucoup m\u00eame seul frapp\u00e9s au\nmilieu de leurs crimes.\nLA FEMME.--Mais pas faire tuer vous cependant. Donc vous lui dire,\npeut-\u00eatre, que lui pas faire tuer vous? Donc vous faire le march\u00e9 avec\nlui, vous commettre mauvaises choses; lui pas \u00eatre col\u00e8re contre vous,\nquand lui \u00eatre col\u00e8re contre les autres hommes?\nW. A.--Non, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; mes p\u00e9ch\u00e9s ne proviennent que d'une confiance\npr\u00e9somptueuse en sa bont\u00e9; et il serait infiniment juste, s'il me\nd\u00e9truisait comme il a d\u00e9truit d'autres hommes.\nLA FEMME.--Bien. N\u00e9anmoins pas tuer, pas faire vous mort! Que vous dire\n\u00e0 lui pour \u00e7a? Vous pas dire \u00e0 lui: merci pour tout \u00e7a.\nW. A.--Je suis un chien d'ingrat, voil\u00e0 le fait.\nLA FEMME.--Pourquoi lui pas faire vous beaucoup bon meilleur? Vous dire\nlui faire vous.\nW. A.--Il m'a cr\u00e9\u00e9 comme il a cr\u00e9\u00e9 tout le monde; c'est moi-m\u00eame qui me\nsuis d\u00e9prav\u00e9, qui ai abus\u00e9 de sa bont\u00e9, et qui ai fait de moi un \u00eatre\nabominable.\nLA FEMME.--Moi d\u00e9sirer vous faire Dieu conna\u00eetre \u00e0 moi. Moi pas faire\nlui col\u00e8re. Moi pas faire mauvaise m\u00e9chante chose.\nIci WILL ATKINS nous dit que son c\u0153ur, lui avait d\u00e9failli en entendant\nune pauvre et ignorante cr\u00e9ature exprimer le d\u00e9sir d'\u00eatre amen\u00e9e \u00e0 la\nconnaissance de Dieu, tandis que lui, mis\u00e9rable, ne pouvait lui en dire\nun mot auquel l'ignominie de sa conduite ne la d\u00e9tourn\u00e2t d'ajouter foi.\nD\u00e9j\u00e0 m\u00eame elle s'\u00e9tait refus\u00e9e \u00e0 croire en Dieu, parce que lui qui avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 si m\u00e9chant n'\u00e9tait pas an\u00e9anti.\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Sans doute, ma ch\u00e8re, vous voulez dire que vous\nsouhaitez que je vous enseigne \u00e0 conna\u00eetre Dieu et non pas que\nj'apprenne \u00e0 Dieu \u00e0 vous conna\u00eetre; car il vous conna\u00eet d\u00e9j\u00e0, vous et\nchaque pens\u00e9e de votre c\u0153ur.\nLA FEMME--Ainsi donc lui savoir ce que moi dire \u00e0 vous maintenant; lui\nsavoir moi d\u00e9sirer de conna\u00eetre lui. Comment moi conna\u00eetre celui qui\ncr\u00e9er moi?\nW. A.--Pauvre cr\u00e9ature; il faut qu'il t'enseigne, lui, moi je ne puis\nt'enseigner. Je le prierai de t'apprendre \u00e0 le conna\u00eetre et de me\npardonner, \u00e0 moi, qui suis indigne de t'instruire.\nLe pauvre gar\u00e7on fut tellement mis aux abois quand sa femme lui exprima\nle d\u00e9sir d'\u00eatre amen\u00e9e par lui \u00e0 la science de Dieu, quand elle forma le\nsouhait de conna\u00eetre Dieu, qu'il tomba \u00e0 genoux devant elle, nous\ndit-il, et pria le Seigneur d'illuminer son esprit par la connaissance\nsalutaire de J\u00e9sus-Christ, de lui pardonner \u00e0 lui-m\u00eame ses p\u00e9ch\u00e9s et de\nl'accepter comme un indigne instrument pour instruire cette idol\u00e2tre\ndans les principes de la religion. Apr\u00e8s quoi il s'assit de nouveau pr\u00e8s\nd'elle et leur dialogue se poursuivit.\n_N. B._ C'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 le moment o\u00f9 nous l'avions vu s'agenouiller et lever\nles mains vers le ciel.\nLA FEMME.--Pourquoi vous mettre les genoux \u00e0 terre? Pourquoi vous lever\nen haut les mains? Quoi vous dire? \u00c0 qui vous parler? Quoi est tout \u00e7a?\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Ma ch\u00e8re, je ploie les genoux en signe de soumission\nenvers Celui qui m'a cr\u00e9\u00e9. Je lui ai dit, O! comme vous appelez cela et\ncomme vous racontez que font vos vieillards \u00e0 leur idole Benamuck\u00e9e,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire que je l'ai pri\u00e9.\nLA FEMME--Pourquoi vous dire O! \u00e0 lui?\nW. A.--Je l'ai pri\u00e9 d'ouvrir vos yeux et votre entendement, afin que\nvous puissiez le conna\u00eetre et lui \u00eatre agr\u00e9able.\nLA FEMME.--Pouvoir lui faire \u00e7a aussi?\nW. A.--Oui, il le peut; il peut faire toutes choses.\nLA FEMME.--Mais lui pas entendre quoi vous dire?\nW. A.--Si. Il nous a command\u00e9 de le prier et promis de nous \u00e9couter.\nLA FEMME.--Command\u00e9 vous prier! Quand lui commander vous? Comment lui\ncommander vous? Quoi! vous entendre lui parler?\nW. A.--Non, nous ne l'entendons point parler; mais il s'est r\u00e9v\u00e9l\u00e9 \u00e0\nnous de diff\u00e9rentes mani\u00e8res.\nIci ATKINS fut tr\u00e8s-embarrass\u00e9 pour lui faire comprendre que Dieu s'est\nr\u00e9v\u00e9l\u00e9 \u00e0 nous par sa parole; et ce que c'est que sa parole; mais enfin\nil poursuivit ainsi:\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Dieu, dans les premiers temps, a parl\u00e9 \u00e0 quelques\nhommes bons du haut du ciel, en termes formels; puis Dieu a inspir\u00e9 des\nhommes bons par son Esprit, et ils ont \u00e9crit toutes ses lois dans un\nlivre.\nLA FEMME.--Moi pas comprendre \u00e7a. O\u00f9 est ce livre?\nW. A.--H\u00e9las! ma pauvre cr\u00e9ature, je n'ai pas ce livre; mais j'esp\u00e8re un\njour ou l'autre l'acqu\u00e9rir pour vous et vous le faire lire.\nC'est ici qu'il l'embrassa avec beaucoup de tendresse, mais avec\nl'inexprimable regret de n'avoir pas de Bible.\nLA FEMME.--Mais comment vous faire moi conna\u00eetre que Dieu enseigner eux\n\u00e0 \u00e9crire ce livre?\nWILLIAM ATKINS.--Par la m\u00eame d\u00e9monstration par laquelle nous savons\nqu'il est Dieu.\nLA FEMME.--Quelle d\u00e9monstration? quel moyen vous savoir?\nW. A.--Parce qu'il enseigne et ne commande rien qui ne soit bon, juste,\nsaint, et ne tende \u00e0 nous rendre parfaitement bons et parfaitement\nheureux, et parce qu'il nous d\u00e9fend et nous enjoint de fuir tout ce qui\nest mal, mauvais en soi ou mauvais dans ses cons\u00e9quences.\nLA FEMME. Que moi voudrais comprendre, que moi volontiers conna\u00eetre! Si\nlui r\u00e9compenser toute bonne chose, punir toute m\u00e9chante chose, d\u00e9fendre\ntoute m\u00e9chante chose, lui, faire toute chose, lui, donner toute chose,\nlui entendre moi quand moi dire: O! \u00e0 lui, comme vous venir de faire\njuste \u00e0 pr\u00e9sent; lui faire moi bonne, si moi d\u00e9sir \u00eatre bonne; lui\n\u00e9pargner moi, pas faire tuer moi, quand moi pas \u00eatre bonne, si tout ce\nque vous dire lui faire; oui, lui \u00eatre grand Dieu; moi prendre, penser,\ncroire lui \u00eatre grand Dieu; moi dire; O! aussi \u00e0 lui, avec vous, mon\ncher.\nIci le pauvre homme nous dit qu'il n'avait pu se contenir plus\nlong-temps; mais que prenant sa femme par la main il l'avait fait mettre\n\u00e0 genoux pr\u00e8s de lui et qu'il avait pri\u00e9 Dieu \u00e0 haute voix de\nl'instruire dans la connaissance de lui-m\u00eame par son divin Esprit, et de\nfaire par un coup heureux de sa providence, s'il \u00e9tait possible, que t\u00f4t\nou tard elle v\u00eent \u00e0 poss\u00e9der une Bible, afin qu'elle p\u00fbt lire la parole\nde Dieu et par l\u00e0 apprendre \u00e0 le conna\u00eetre.\nC'est en ce moment que nous l'avions vu lui offrir la main et\ns'agenouiller aupr\u00e8s d'elle, comme il a \u00e9t\u00e9 dit.\nIls se dirent encore apr\u00e8s ceci beaucoup d'autres choses qui serait trop\nlong, ce me semble, de rapporter ici. Entre autres elle lui fit\npromettre, puisque de son propre aveu sa vie n'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 qu'une suite\ncriminelle et abominable de provocations contre Dieu, de la r\u00e9former, de\nne plus irriter Dieu, de peur qu'il ne voul\u00fbt--\u00abfaire lui mort,\u00bb--selon\nsa propre expression; qu'alors elle ne rest\u00e2t seule et ne p\u00fbt apprendre\n\u00e0 conna\u00eetre plus particuli\u00e8rement ce Dieu, et qu'il ne f\u00fbt mis\u00e9rable,\ncomme il lui avait dit que les hommes m\u00e9chants le seraient apr\u00e8s leur\nmort.\nCe r\u00e9cit nous parut vraiment \u00e9trange et nous \u00e9mut beaucoup l'un et\nl'autre, surtout le jeune eccl\u00e9siastique. Il en fut, lui, \u00e9merveill\u00e9;\nmais il ressentit la plus vive douleur de ne pouvoir parler \u00e0 la femme,\nde ne pouvoir parler anglais pour s'en faire entendre, et comme elle\n\u00e9corchait impitoyablement l'anglais, de ne pouvoir la comprendre\nelle-m\u00eame. Toutefois il se tourna vers moi, et me dit qu'il croyait que\npour elle il y avait quelque chose de plus \u00e0 faire que de la marier. Je\nne le compris pas d'abord; mais enfin il s'expliqua: il entendait par l\u00e0\nqu'elle devait \u00eatre baptis\u00e9e.\nJ'adh\u00e9rai \u00e0 cela avec joie; et comme je m'y empressais:\n--\u00abNon, non, arr\u00eatez, sir, me dit-il; bien que j'aie fort \u00e0 c\u0153ur de la\nvoir baptis\u00e9e, cependant tout en reconnaissant que WILL ATKINS, son\nmari, l'a vraiment amen\u00e9e d'une fa\u00e7on miraculeuse \u00e0 souhaiter\nd'embrasser une vie religieuse, et \u00e0 lui donner de justes id\u00e9es de\nl'existence d'un Dieu, de son pouvoir, de sa justice, de sa mis\u00e9ricorde,\nje d\u00e9sire savoir de lui s'il lui a dit quelque chose de J\u00e9sus-Christ et\ndu salut des p\u00e9cheurs; de la nature de notre foi en lui, et de notre\nR\u00e9demption; du Saint-Esprit, de la R\u00e9surrection, du Jugement dernier et\nd'une vie future.\nJe rappelai WILL ATKINS, et je le lui demandai. Le pauvre gar\u00e7on fondit\nen larmes et nous dit qu'il lui en avait bien touch\u00e9 quelques paroles;\nmais qu'il \u00e9tait lui-m\u00eame si m\u00e9chante cr\u00e9ature et que sa conscience lui\nreprochait si vivement sa vie horrible et impie, qu'il avait trembl\u00e9 que\nla connaissance qu'elle avait de lui n'att\u00e9nu\u00e2t l'attention qu'elle\ndevait donner \u00e0 ces choses, et ne la port\u00e2t plut\u00f4t \u00e0 m\u00e9priser la\nreligion qu'\u00e0 l'embrasser. N\u00e9anmoins il \u00e9tait certain, nous dit-il, que\nson esprit \u00e9tait si dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 recevoir d'heureuses impressions de toutes\nces v\u00e9rit\u00e9s, que si je voulais bien l'en entretenir, elle ferait voir, \u00e0\nma grande satisfaction, que mes peines ne seraient point perdues sur\nelle.\nEn cons\u00e9quence je la fis venir; et, me pla\u00e7ant comme interpr\u00e8te entre\nelle et mon pieux eccl\u00e9siastique, je le priai d'entrer en mati\u00e8re.\nBAPT\u00caME DE LA FEMME D'ATKINS\nOr, s\u00fbrement jamais pareil sermon n'a \u00e9t\u00e9 pr\u00each\u00e9 par un pr\u00eatre papiste\ndans ces derniers si\u00e8cles du monde. Aussi lui dis-je que je lui trouvais\ntout le z\u00e8le, toute la science, toute la sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 d'un Chr\u00e9tien, sans\nles erreurs d'un catholique romain, et que je croyais voir en lui un\npasteur tel qu'avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 les \u00e9v\u00eaques de Rome avant que l'\u00c9glise\nromaine se f\u00fbt assum\u00e9 la souverainet\u00e9 spirituelle sur les consciences\nhumaines[16].\nEn un mot il amena la pauvre femme \u00e0 embrasser la connaissance du\nChrist, et de notre R\u00e9demption, non-seulement avec admiration, avec\n\u00e9tonnement, comme elle avait accueilli les premi\u00e8res notions de\nl'existence d'un Dieu, mais encore avec joie, avec foi, avec une ferveur\net un degr\u00e9 surprenant d'intelligence presque inimaginables et\ntout-\u00e0-fait indicibles. Finalement, \u00e0 sa propre requ\u00eate, elle fut\nbaptis\u00e9e.\nTandis qu'il se pr\u00e9parait \u00e0 lui conf\u00e9rer le bapt\u00eame, je le suppliai de\nvouloir bien accomplir cet office avec quelques pr\u00e9cautions, afin, s'il\n\u00e9tait possible, que l'homme ne p\u00fbt s'appercevoir qu'il appartenait \u00e0\nl'\u00c9glise romaine, \u00e0 cause des f\u00e2cheuses cons\u00e9quences qui pourraient\nr\u00e9sulter d'une dissidence entre nous dans cette religion m\u00eame o\u00f9 nous\ninstruisions les autres. Il me r\u00e9pondit que, n'ayant ni chapelle\nconsacr\u00e9e ni choses propres \u00e0 cette c\u00e9l\u00e9bration, il officierait d'une\ntelle mani\u00e8re que je ne pourrais reconna\u00eetre moi-m\u00eame qu'il \u00e9tait\ncatholique romain si je ne le savais d\u00e9j\u00e0. Et c'est ce qu'il fit: car\napr\u00e8s avoir marmonn\u00e9 en latin quelques paroles que je ne pus comprendre,\nil versa un plein vase d'eau sur la t\u00eate de la femme, disant en fran\u00e7ais\nd'une voix haute:--\u00abMarie! C'\u00e9tait le nom que son \u00e9poux avait souhait\u00e9\nque je lui donnasse, car j'\u00e9tais son parrain.--\u00abJe te baptise au nom du\nP\u00e8re, du Fils et du Saint-Esprit.\u00bb De sorte qu'on ne pouvait deviner\npar-l\u00e0 de quelle religion il \u00e9tait. Ensuite il donna la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction en\nlatin; mais WILL ATKINS ne sut pas si c'\u00e9tait en fran\u00e7ais, ou ne prit\npoint garde \u00e0 cela en ce moment.\nSit\u00f4t cette c\u00e9r\u00e9monie termin\u00e9e, il les maria; puis apr\u00e8s les \u00e9pousailles\nfaites il se tourna vers WILL ATKINS et l'exhorta d'une mani\u00e8re\ntr\u00e8s-pressante, non-seulement \u00e0 pers\u00e9v\u00e9rer dans ses bonnes dispositions,\nmais \u00e0 corroborer les convictions dont il \u00e9tait p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 par une ferme\nr\u00e9solution de r\u00e9former sa vie. Il lui d\u00e9clara que c'\u00e9tait chose vaine\nque de dire qu'il se repentait, s'il n'abjurait ses crimes. Il lui\nrepr\u00e9senta combien Dieu l'avait honor\u00e9 en le choisissant comme\ninstrument pour amener sa femme \u00e0 la connaissance de la religion\nchr\u00e9tienne, et combien il devait \u00eatre soigneux de ne pas se montrer\nrebelle \u00e0 la gr\u00e2ce de Dieu; qu'autrement il verrait la payenne meilleure\nchr\u00e9tienne que lui, la Sauvage \u00e9lue et l'instrument r\u00e9prouv\u00e9.\nIl leur dit encore \u00e0 touts deux une foule d'excellentes choses; puis,\nles recommandant en peu de mots \u00e0 la bont\u00e9 divine, il leur donna de\nnouveau la b\u00e9n\u00e9diction: moi, comme interpr\u00e8te, leur traduisant toujours\nchaque chose en anglais. Ainsi se termina la c\u00e9r\u00e9monie. Ce fut bien pour\nmoi la plus charmante, la plus agr\u00e9able journ\u00e9e que j'aie jamais pass\u00e9e\ndans toute ma vie.\nOr mon religieux n'en avait pas encore fini. Ses pens\u00e9es se reportaient\nsans cesse \u00e0 la conversion des trente-sept Sauvages, et volontiers il\nserait rest\u00e9 dans l'\u00eele pour l'entreprendre. Mais je le convainquis\npremi\u00e8rement qu'en soi cette entreprise \u00e9tait impraticable, et\nsecondement que je pourrais peut-\u00eatre la mettre en voie d'\u00eatre termin\u00e9e\n\u00e0 sa satisfaction durant son absence dont je parlerai tout-\u00e0-l'heure.\nAyant ainsi mis \u00e0 fond les affaires de l'\u00eele, je me pr\u00e9parais \u00e0\nretourner \u00e0 bord du navire, quand le jeune homme que j'avais recueilli\nd'entre l'\u00e9quipage affam\u00e9 vint \u00e0 moi et me dit qu'il avait appris que\nj'avais un eccl\u00e9siastique et que j'avais mari\u00e9 par son office les\nAnglais avec les femmes sauvages qu'ils nommaient leurs \u00e9pouses, et que\nlui-m\u00eame avait aussi un projet de mariage entre deux Chr\u00e9tiens qu'il\nd\u00e9sirait voir s'accomplir avant mon d\u00e9part, ce qui, esp\u00e9rait-il, ne me\nserait point d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able.\nJe compris de suite qu'il \u00e9tait question de la jeune fille servante de\nsa m\u00e8re; car il n'y avait point d'autre femme chr\u00e9tienne dans l'\u00eele.\nAussi commen\u00e7ai-je \u00e0 le dissuader de faire une chose pareille\ninconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment, et parce qu'il se trouvait dans une situation isol\u00e9e.\nJe lui repr\u00e9sentai qu'il avait par le monde une fortune assez\nconsid\u00e9rable et de bons amis, comme je le tenais de lui-m\u00eame et de la\njeune fille aussi; que cette fille \u00e9tait non-seulement pauvre et\nservante, mais encore d'un \u00e2ge disproportionn\u00e9, puisqu'elle avait\nvingt-six ou vingt-sept ans, et lui pas plus de dix-sept ou dix-huit;\nque tr\u00e8s-probablement il lui serait possible avec mon assistance de se\ntirer de ce d\u00e9sert et de retourner dans sa patrie; qu'alors il y avait\nmille \u00e0 parier contre un qu'il se repentirait de son choix, et que le\nd\u00e9go\u00fbt de sa position leur serait pr\u00e9judiciable \u00e0 touts deux. J'allais\nm'\u00e9tendre bien davantage; mais il m'interrompit en souriant et me dit\navec beaucoup de candeur que je me trompais dans mes conjectures, qu'il\nn'avait rien de pareil en t\u00eate, sa situation pr\u00e9sente \u00e9tant d\u00e9j\u00e0 assez\ntriste et d\u00e9plorable; qu'il \u00e9tait charm\u00e9 d'apprendre que j'avais quelque\nd\u00e9sir de le mettre \u00e0 m\u00eame de revoir son pays; que rien n'aurait pu\nl'engager \u00e0 rester en ce lieu si le voyage que j'allais poursuivre n'e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 si effroyablement long et si hasardeux, et ne l'e\u00fbt jet\u00e9 si loin de\ntouts ses amis; qu'il ne souhaitait rien de moi, sinon que je voulusse\nbien lui assigner une petite propri\u00e9t\u00e9 dans mon \u00eele, lui donner un\nserviteur ou deux et les choses n\u00e9cessaires pour qu'il p\u00fbt s'y \u00e9tablir\ncomme planteur, en attendant l'heureux moment o\u00f9, si je retournais en\nAngleterre, je pourrais le d\u00e9livrer, plein de l'esp\u00e9rance que je ne\nl'oublierais pas quand j'y serais revenu; enfin qu'il me remettrait\nquelques lettres pour ses amis \u00e0 Londres, afin de leur faire savoir\ncombien j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 bon pour lui, et dans quel lieu du monde et dans\nquelle situation je l'avais laiss\u00e9. Il me promettait, disait-il, lorsque\nje le d\u00e9livrerais, que la plantation dans l'\u00e9tat d'am\u00e9lioration o\u00f9 il\nl'aurait port\u00e9e, quelle qu'en p\u00fbt \u00eatre la valeur, deviendrait\ntout-\u00e0-fait mienne.\nSon discours \u00e9tait fort bien tourn\u00e9 eu \u00e9gard \u00e0 sa jeunesse, et me fut\nsurtout agr\u00e9able parce qu'il m'apprenait positivement que le mariage en\nvue ne le concernait point lui-m\u00eame. Je lui donnai toutes les assurances\npossibles que, si j'arrivais \u00e0 bon port en Angleterre, je remettrais ses\nlettres et m'occuperais s\u00e9rieusement de ses affaires, et qu'il pouvait\ncompter que je n'oublierais point dans quelle situation je le laissais;\nmais j'\u00e9tais toujours impatient de savoir quels \u00e9taient les personnages\n\u00e0 marier. Il me dit enfin que c'\u00e9tait mon Jack-bon-\u00e0-tout et sa servante\nSuzan.\nJe fus fort agr\u00e9ablement surpris quand il me nomma le couple; car\nvraiment il me semblait bien assorti. J'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 trac\u00e9 le caract\u00e8re de\nl'homme: quant \u00e0 la servante, c'\u00e9tait une jeune femme tr\u00e8s-honn\u00eate,\nmodeste, r\u00e9serv\u00e9e et pieuse. Dou\u00e9e de beaucoup de sens, elle \u00e9tait assez\nagr\u00e9able de sa personne, s'exprimait fort bien et \u00e0 propos, toujours\navec d\u00e9cence et bonne gr\u00e2ce, et n'\u00e9tait ni lente \u00e0 parler quand quelque\nchose le requ\u00e9rait, ni impertinemment empress\u00e9e quand ce n'\u00e9tait pas ses\naffaires; tr\u00e8s-adroite d'ailleurs, fort entendue dans tout ce qui la\nconcernait, excellente m\u00e9nag\u00e8re et capable en v\u00e9rit\u00e9 d'\u00eatre la\ngouvernante de l'\u00eele enti\u00e8re. Elle savait parfaitement se conduire avec\nles gens de toute sorte qui l'entouraient, et n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 plus\nemprunt\u00e9e avec des gens du bel air, s'il s'en f\u00fbt trouv\u00e9 l\u00e0.\nLes accordailles \u00e9tant faites de cette mani\u00e8re, nous les mari\u00e2mes le\njour m\u00eame; et comme \u00e0 l'autel, pour ainsi dire, je servais de p\u00e8re \u00e0\ncette fille, et que je la pr\u00e9sentais, je lui constituai une dot: je lui\nassignai, \u00e0 elle et \u00e0 son mari, une belle et vaste \u00e9tendue de terre pour\nleur plantation. Ce mariage et la proposition que le jeune gentleman\nm'avait faite de lui conc\u00e9der une petite propri\u00e9t\u00e9 dans l'\u00eele, me\ndonn\u00e8rent l'id\u00e9e de la partager entre ses habitants, afin qu'ils ne\npussent par la suite se quereller au sujet de leur emplacement.\nJe remis le soin de ce partage \u00e0 WILL ATKINS, qui vraiment alors \u00e9tait\ndevenu un homme sage, grave, m\u00e9nager, compl\u00e8tement r\u00e9form\u00e9,\nexcessivement pieux et religieux, et qui, autant qu'il peut m'\u00eatre\npermis de prononcer en pareil cas, \u00e9tait, je le crois fermement, un\np\u00e9nitent sinc\u00e8re.\nIl s'acquitta de cette r\u00e9partition avec tant d'\u00e9quit\u00e9 et tellement \u00e0 la\nsatisfaction de chacun, qu'ils d\u00e9sir\u00e8rent seulement pour le tout un acte\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ral de ma main que je fis dresser et que je signai et scellai. Ce\ncontrat, d\u00e9terminant la situation et les limites de chaque plantation,\ncertifiait que je leur accordais la possession absolue et h\u00e9r\u00e9ditaire\ndes plantations ou fermes respectives et de leurs am\u00e9liorissements, \u00e0\neux et \u00e0 leurs hoirs, me r\u00e9servant tout le reste de l'\u00eele comme ma\npropri\u00e9t\u00e9 particuli\u00e8re, et par chaque plantation une certaine redevance\npayable au bout de onze ann\u00e9es \u00e0 moi ou \u00e0 quiconque de ma part ou en mon\nnom viendrait la r\u00e9clamer et produirait une copie l\u00e9galis\u00e9e de cette\nconcession.\nQuant au mode de gouvernement et aux lois \u00e0 introduire parmi eux, je\nleur dis que je ne saurais leur donner de meilleurs r\u00e9glements que ceux\nqu'ils pouvaient s'imposer eux-m\u00eames. Seulement je leur fis promettre de\nvivre en amiti\u00e9 et en bon voisinage les uns avec les autres. Et je me\npr\u00e9parai \u00e0 les quitter.\nUne chose que je ne dois point passer sous silence, c'est que, nos\ncolons \u00e9tant alors constitu\u00e9s en une sorte de r\u00e9publique et surcharg\u00e9s\nde travaux, il \u00e9tait incongru que trente-sept Indiens v\u00e9cussent dans un\ncoin de l'\u00eele ind\u00e9pendants et inoccup\u00e9s; car, except\u00e9 de pourvoir \u00e0 leur\nnourriture, ce qui n'\u00e9tait pas toujours sans difficult\u00e9, ils n'avaient\naucune esp\u00e8ce d'affaire ou de propri\u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 administrer. Aussi proposai-je\nau gouverneur Espagnol d'aller les trouver avec le p\u00e8re de VENDREDI et\nde leur offrir de se disperser et de planter pour leur compte, ou d'\u00eatre\nagr\u00e9g\u00e9s aux diff\u00e9rentes familles comme serviteurs, et entretenus pour\nleur travail, sans \u00eatre toutefois absolument esclaves; car je n'aurais\npas voulu souffrir qu'on les soum\u00eet \u00e0 l'esclavage, ni par la force ni\npar nulle autre voie, parce que leur libert\u00e9 leur avait \u00e9t\u00e9 octroy\u00e9e par\ncapitulation, et qu'elle \u00e9tait un article de reddition, chose que\nl'honneur d\u00e9fend de violer.\nIls adh\u00e9r\u00e8rent volontiers \u00e0 la proposition et suivirent touts de grand\nc\u0153ur le gouverneur Espagnol. Nous leur d\u00e9part\u00eemes donc des terres et des\nplantations; trois ou quatre d'entre eux en accept\u00e8rent, mais touts les\nautres pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e8rent \u00eatre employ\u00e9s comme serviteurs dans les diverses\nfamilles que nous avions fond\u00e9es; et ainsi ma colonie fut \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\n\u00e9tablie comme il suit: les Espagnols poss\u00e9daient mon habitation\nprimitive, laquelle \u00e9tait la ville capitale, et avaient \u00e9tendu leur\nplantation tout le long du ruisseau qui formait la crique dont j'ai si\nsouvent parl\u00e9, jusqu'\u00e0 ma tonnelle: en accroissant leurs cultures ils\npoussaient toujours \u00e0 l'Est. Les Anglais habitaient dans la partie\nNord-Est, o\u00f9 WILL ATKINS et ses compagnons s'\u00e9taient fix\u00e9s tout d'abord,\net s'avan\u00e7aient au Sud et au Sud-Ouest en de\u00e7\u00e0 des possessions des\nEspagnols. Chaque plantation avait au besoin un grand suppl\u00e9ment de\nterrain \u00e0 sa disposition, de sorte qu'il ne pouvait y avoir lieu de se\nchamailler par manque de place.\nToute la pointe occidentale de l'\u00eele fut laiss\u00e9e inhabit\u00e9e, afin que si\nquelques Sauvages y abordaient seulement pour y consommer leurs\nbarbaries accoutum\u00e9es, ils pussent aller et venir librement; s'ils ne\nvexaient personne, personne n'avait envie de les vexer. Sans doute ils y\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e8rent souvent, mais ils s'en retourn\u00e8rent, sans plus; car je n'ai\njamais entendu dire que mes planteurs eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 attaqu\u00e9s et troubl\u00e9s\ndavantage.\nLA BIBLE\nIl me revint alors \u00e0 l'esprit que j'avais insinu\u00e9 \u00e0 mon ami\nl'eccl\u00e9siastique que l'\u0153uvre de la conversion de nos Sauvages pourrait\npeut-\u00eatre s'accomplir en son absence et \u00e0 sa satisfaction; et je lui dis\nque je la croyais \u00e0 cette heure en beau chemin; car ces Indiens \u00e9tant\nainsi r\u00e9partis parmi les Chr\u00e9tiens, si chacun de ceux-ci voulait faire\nson devoir aupr\u00e8s de ceux qui se trouvaient sous sa main, j'esp\u00e9rais que\ncela pourrait avoir un fort bon r\u00e9sultat.\nIl en tomba d'accord d'embl\u00e9e: \u00ab--Si toutefois, dit-il, ils voulaient\nfaire leur devoir; mais comment, ajouta-t-il, obtiendrons-nous cela\nd'eux?\u00bb--Je lui r\u00e9pondis que nous les manderions touts ensemble, et leur\nen imposerions la charge, ou bien que nous irions les trouver chacun en\nparticulier, ce qu'il jugea pr\u00e9f\u00e9rable. Nous nous partage\u00e2mes donc la\nt\u00e2che, lui pour en parler aux Espagnols qui \u00e9taient touts papistes, et\nmoi aux anglais qui \u00e9taient touts protestants; et nous leur\nrecommand\u00e2mes instamment et leur f\u00eemes promettre de ne jamais \u00e9tablir\naucune distinction de Catholiques ou de R\u00e9form\u00e9s, en exhortant les\nSauvages \u00e0 se faire Chr\u00e9tiens, mais de leur donner une connaissance\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale du vrai Dieu et de J\u00e9sus-Christ, leur Sauveur. Ils nous\npromirent pareillement qu'ils n'auraient jamais les uns avec les autres\naucun diff\u00e9rent, aucune dispute au sujet de la religion.\nQuand j'arrivai \u00e0 la maison de WILL ATKINS,--si je puis l'appeler ainsi,\ncar jamais pareil \u00e9difice, pareil morceau de clayonnage, je crois, n'eut\nson semblable dans le monde,--quand j'arrivai l\u00e0, dis-je, j'y trouvai la\njeune femme dont pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment j'ai parl\u00e9 et l'\u00e9pouse de William ATKINS\nli\u00e9es intimement. Cette jeune femme sage et religieuse avait\nperfectionn\u00e9 l'\u0153uvre que WILL ATKINS avait commenc\u00e9e; et, quoique ce ne\nf\u00fbt pas plus de quatre jours apr\u00e8s ce dont je viens de donner la\nrelation, cependant la n\u00e9ophyte indienne \u00e9tait devenue une chr\u00e9tienne\ntelle que m'en ont rarement offert mes observations et le commerce du\nmonde.\nDans la matin\u00e9e qui pr\u00e9c\u00e9da cette visite, il me vint \u00e0 l'id\u00e9e que parmi\nles choses n\u00e9cessaires que j'avais \u00e0 laisser \u00e0 mes Anglais, j'avais\noubli\u00e9 de placer une Bible, et qu'en cela je me montrais moins\nattentionn\u00e9 \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard que ne l'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 envers moi ma bonne amie la\nveuve, lorsqu'en m'envoyant de Lisbonne la cargaison de cent livres\nsterling, elle y avait gliss\u00e9 trois Bibles et un livre de pri\u00e8res.\nToutefois la charit\u00e9 de cette brave femme eut une plus grande extension\nqu'elle ne l'avait imagin\u00e9; car il \u00e9tait r\u00e9serv\u00e9 \u00e0 ses pr\u00e9sents de\nservir \u00e0 la consolation et \u00e0 l'instruction de gens qui en firent un bien\nmeilleur usage que moi-m\u00eame.\nJe mis une de ces Bibles dans ma poche, et lorsque j'arrivai \u00e0 la\nrotonde ou maison de William ATKINS, et que j'eus appris que la jeune\n\u00e9pous\u00e9e et la femme baptis\u00e9e d'ATKINS avaient convers\u00e9 ensemble sur la\nreligion,--car Will me l'annon\u00e7a avec beaucoup de joie,--je demandai si\nelles \u00e9taient r\u00e9unies en ce moment, et il me r\u00e9pondit que oui. J'entrai\ndonc dans la maison, il m'y suivit, et nous les trouv\u00e2mes toutes deux en\ngrande conversation.--\u00abOh! sir, me dit William ATKINS, quand Dieu a des\np\u00e9cheurs \u00e0 r\u00e9concilier \u00e0 lui, et des \u00e9trangers \u00e0 introduire dans son\nroyaume, il ne manque pas de messagers. Ma femme s'est acquis un nouveau\nguide; moi je me reconnais aussi indigne qu'incapable de cette \u0153uvre;\ncette jeune personne nous a \u00e9t\u00e9 envoy\u00e9e du Ciel: il suffirait d'elle\npour convertir toute une \u00eele de Sauvages.\u00bb--La jeune \u00e9pous\u00e9e rougit et\nse leva pour se retirer, mais je l'invitai \u00e0 se rasseoir.--\u00abVous avez\nune bonne \u0153uvre entre les mains, lui dis-je, j'esp\u00e8re que Dieu vous\nb\u00e9nira dans cette \u0153uvre.\u00bb\nNous caus\u00e2mes un peu; et, ne m'appercevant pas qu'ils eussent aucun\nlivre chez eux, sans toutefois m'en \u00eatre enquis, je mis la main dans ma\npoche et j'en tirai ma Bible.--\u00abVoici, dis-je \u00e0 ATKINS, que je vous\napporte un secours que peut-\u00eatre vous n'aviez pas jusqu'\u00e0 cette\nheure.\u00bb--Le pauvre homme fut si confondu, que de quelque temps il ne put\nprof\u00e9rer une parole. Mais, revenant \u00e0 lui, il prit le livre \u00e0 deux\nmains, et se tournant vers sa femme:--\u00abTenez, ma ch\u00e8re, s'\u00e9cria-t-il, ne\nvous avais-je pas dit que notre Dieu, bien qu'il habite l\u00e0-haut, peut\nentendre ce que nous disons! Voici ce livre que j'ai demand\u00e9 par mes\npri\u00e8res quand vous et moi nous nous agenouill\u00e2mes pr\u00e8s du buisson. Dieu\nnous a entendu et nous l'envoie.\u00bb--En achevant ces mots il tomba dans de\nsi vifs transports, qu'au milieu de la joie de poss\u00e9der ce livre et des\nactions de gr\u00e2ce qu'il en rendait \u00e0 Dieu, les larmes ruisselaient sur sa\nface comme \u00e0 un enfant qui pleure.\nLa femme fut \u00e9merveill\u00e9e et pensa tomber dans une m\u00e9prise que personne\nde nous n'avait pr\u00e9vue; elle crut fermement que Dieu lui avait envoy\u00e9 le\nlivre sur la demande de son mari. Il est vrai qu'il en \u00e9tait ainsi\nprovidentiellement, et qu'on pouvait le prendre ainsi dans un sens\nraisonnable; mais je crois qu'il n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 difficile en ce moment de\npersuader \u00e0 cette pauvre femme qu'un messager expr\u00e8s \u00e9tait venu du Ciel\nuniquement dans le dessein de lui apporter ce livre. C'\u00e9tait mati\u00e8re\ntrop s\u00e9rieuse pour tol\u00e9rer aucune supercherie; aussi me tournai-je vers\nla jeune \u00e9pous\u00e9e et lui dis-je que nous ne devions point en imposer \u00e0 la\nnouvelle convertie, dans sa primitive et ignorante intelligence des\nchoses, et je la priai de lui expliquer qu'on peut dire fort justement\nque Dieu r\u00e9pond \u00e0 nos suppliques, quand, par le cours de sa providence,\npareilles choses d'une fa\u00e7on toute particuli\u00e8re adviennent comme nous\nl'avions demand\u00e9; mais que nous ne devons pas nous attendre \u00e0 recevoir\ndes r\u00e9ponses du Ciel par une voie miraculeuse et toute sp\u00e9ciale, et que\nc'est un bien pour nous qu'il n'en soit pas ainsi.\nLa jeune \u00e9pous\u00e9e s'acquitta heureusement de ce soin, de sorte qu'il n'y\neut, je vous assure, nulle fraude pieuse l\u00e0-dedans. Ne point d\u00e9tromper\ncette femme e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0 mes yeux la plus injustifiable imposture du monde.\nToutefois le saisissement de joie de WILL ATKINS passait vraiment toute\nexpression, et l\u00e0 pourtant, on peut en \u00eatre certain, il n'y avait rien\nd'illusoire. \u00c0 coup s\u00fbr, pour aucune chose semblable, jamais homme ne\nmanifesta plus de reconnaissance qu'il n'en montra pour le don de cette\nBible; et jamais homme, je crois, ne fut ravi de poss\u00e9der une Bible par\nde plus dignes motifs. Quoiqu'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 la cr\u00e9ature la plus sc\u00e9l\u00e9rate,\nla plus dangereuse, la plus opini\u00e2tre, la plus outrageuse, la plus\nfuribonde et la plus perverse, cet homme peut nous servir d'exemple \u00e0\ntouts pour la bonne \u00e9ducation des enfants, \u00e0 savoir que les parents ne\ndoivent jamais n\u00e9gliger d'enseigner et d'instruire et ne jamais\nd\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer du succ\u00e8s de leurs efforts, les enfants fussent-ils \u00e0 ce\npoint opini\u00e2tres et rebelles, ou en apparence insensibles \u00e0\nl'instruction; car si jamais Dieu dans sa providence vient \u00e0 toucher\nleur conscience, la force de leur \u00e9ducation reprend son action sur eux,\net les premiers enseignements des parents ne sont pas perdus, quoiqu'ils\naient pu rester enfouis bien des ann\u00e9es: un jour ou l'autre ils peuvent\nen recueillir b\u00e9n\u00e9fice.\nC'est ce qui advint \u00e0 ce pauvre homme. Quelque ignorant ou quelque\nd\u00e9pourvu qu'il f\u00fbt de religion et de connaissance chr\u00e9tienne, s'\u00e9tant\ntrouv\u00e9 avoir \u00e0 faire alors \u00e0 plus ignorant que lui, la moindre parcelle\ndes instructions de son bon p\u00e8re, qui avait pu lui revenir \u00e0 l'esprit\nlui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 d'un grand secours.\nEntre autres choses il s'\u00e9tait rappel\u00e9, disait-il, combien son p\u00e8re\navait coutume d'insister sur l'inexprimable valeur de la Bible, dont la\npossession est un privil\u00e9ge et un tr\u00e9sor pour l'homme, les familles et\nles nations. Toutefois il n'avait jamais con\u00e7u la moindre id\u00e9e du prix\nde ce livre jusqu'au moment o\u00f9, ayant \u00e0 instruire des payens, des\nSauvages, des barbares, il avait eu faute de l'assistance de l'Oracle\n\u00c9crit.\nLa jeune \u00e9pous\u00e9e fut aussi enchant\u00e9e de cela pour la conjoncture\npr\u00e9sente, bien qu'elle e\u00fbt d\u00e9j\u00e0, ainsi que le jeune homme, une Bible \u00e0\nbord de notre navire, parmi les effets qui n'\u00e9taient pas encore\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e9s. Maintenant, apr\u00e8s avoir tant parl\u00e9 de cette jeune femme, je\nne puis omettre \u00e0 propos d'elle et de moi un \u00e9pisode encore qui renferme\nen soi quelque chose de tr\u00e8s-instructif et de tr\u00e8s-remarquable.\nJ'ai racont\u00e9 \u00e0 quelle extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 la pauvre jeune suivante avait \u00e9t\u00e9\nr\u00e9duite; comment sa ma\u00eetresse, ext\u00e9nu\u00e9e par l'inanition, \u00e9tait morte \u00e0\nbord de ce malheureux navire que nous avions rencontr\u00e9 en mer, et\ncomment l'\u00e9quipage entier \u00e9tant tomb\u00e9 dans la plus atroce mis\u00e8re, la\n_gentlewoman_, son fils et sa servante avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 d'abord durement\ntrait\u00e9s quant aux provisions, et finalement totalement n\u00e9glig\u00e9s et\naffam\u00e9s, c'est-\u00e0-dire livr\u00e9s aux plus affreuses angoisses de la faim.\nUn jour, m'entretenant avec elle des extr\u00e9mit\u00e9s qu'ils avaient\nsouffertes, je lui demandai si elle pourrait d\u00e9crire, d'apr\u00e8s ce qu'elle\navait ressenti, ce que c'est que mourir de faim, et quels en sont les\nsympt\u00f4mes. Elle me r\u00e9pondit qu'elle croyait le pouvoir, et elle me narra\nfort exactement son histoire en ces termes:\n--\u00abD'abord, sir, dit-elle, durant quelques jours nous f\u00eemes tr\u00e8s-maigre\nch\u00e8re et souffr\u00eemes beaucoup la faim, puis enfin nous rest\u00e2mes sans\naucune esp\u00e8ce d'aliments, except\u00e9 du sucre, un peu de vin et un peu\nd'eau. Le premier jour o\u00f9 nous ne re\u00e7\u00fbmes point du tout de nourriture,\nje me sentis, vers le soir, d'abord du vide et du malaise \u00e0 l'estomac,\net, plus avant dans la soir\u00e9e, une invincible envie de b\u00e2iller et de\ndormir. Je me jetai sur une couche dans la grande cabine pour reposer,\net je reposai environ trois heures, puis je m'\u00e9veillai quelque peu\nrafra\u00eechie, ayant pris un verre de vin en me couchant. Apr\u00e8s \u00eatre\ndemeur\u00e9e trois heures environ \u00e9veill\u00e9e, il pouvait \u00eatre alors cinq\nheures du matin, je sentis de nouveau du vide et du malaise \u00e0 l'estomac,\net je me recouchai; mais harass\u00e9e et souffrante, je ne pus dormir du\ntout. Je passai ainsi tout le deuxi\u00e8me jour dans de singuli\u00e8res\nintermittences, d'abord de faim, puis de douleurs, accompagn\u00e9es d'envies\nde vomir. La deuxi\u00e8me nuit, oblig\u00e9e de me mettre au lit derechef sans\navoir rien pris qu'un verre d'eau claire, et m'\u00e9tant assoupie, je r\u00eavai\nque j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 la Barbade, que le march\u00e9 \u00e9tait abondamment fourni de\nprovisions, que j'en achetais pour ma ma\u00eetresse, puis que je revenais et\nd\u00eenais tout mon so\u00fbl.\n\u00bb Je crus apr\u00e8s ceci mon estomac aussi plein qu'au sortir d'un bon\nrepas; mais quand je m'\u00e9veillai je fus cruellement atterr\u00e9e en me\ntrouvant en proie aux horreurs de la faim. Le dernier verre de vin que\nnous eussions, je le bus apr\u00e8s avoir mis du sucre, pour suppl\u00e9er par le\npeu d'esprit qu'il contient au d\u00e9faut de nourriture. Mais n'ayant dans\nl'estomac nulle substance qui p\u00fbt fournir au travail de la digestion, je\ntrouvai que le seul effet du vin \u00e9tait de faire monter de d\u00e9sagr\u00e9ables\nvapeurs de l'estomac au cerveau, et, \u00e0 ce qu'on me rapporta, je demeurai\nstupide et inerte, comme une personne ivre, pendant quelque temps.\n\u00bb Le troisi\u00e8me jour dans la matin\u00e9e apr\u00e8s une nuit de r\u00eaves \u00e9tranges,\nconfus et incoh\u00e9rents, o\u00f9 j'avais plut\u00f4t sommeill\u00e9 que dormi, je\nm'\u00e9veillai enrag\u00e9e et furieuse de faim, et je doute, au cas o\u00f9 ma raison\nne f\u00fbt revenue et n'en e\u00fbt triomph\u00e9, je doute, dis-je, si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9\nm\u00e8re et si j'eusse eu un jeune enfant avec moi, que sa vie e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 en\ns\u00fbret\u00e9.\n\u00bb Ce transport dura environ trois heures, pendant lesquelles deux fois\nje fus aussi folle \u00e0 lier qu'aucun habitant de Bedlam, comme mon jeune\nma\u00eetre me l'a dit et comme il peut aujourd'hui vous le confirmer.\n\u00c9PISODE DE LA CABINE\n\u00bb Dans un de ces acc\u00e8s de fr\u00e9n\u00e9sie ou de d\u00e9mence, soit par l'effet du\nmouvement du vaisseau ou que mon pied e\u00fbt gliss\u00e9, je ne sais, je tombai,\net mon visage heurta contre le coin du lit de veille o\u00f9 couchait ma\nma\u00eetresse. \u00c0 ce coup le sang ruissela de mon nez. Le _cabin-boy_\nm'apporta un petit bassin, je m'assis et j'y saignai abondamment. \u00c0\nmesure que le sang coulait je revenais \u00e0 moi, et la violence du\ntransport ou de la fi\u00e8vre qui me poss\u00e9dait s'abattait ainsi que la\npartie vorace de ma faim.\n\u00bb Alors je me sentis de nouveau malade, et j'eus des soul\u00e8vements de\nc\u0153ur; mais je ne pus vomir, car je n'avais dans l'estomac rien \u00e0\nrejeter. Apr\u00e8s avoir saign\u00e9 quelque temps je m'\u00e9vanouis: l'on crut que\nj'\u00e9tais morte. Je revins bient\u00f4t \u00e0 moi, et j'eus un violent mal \u00e0\nl'estomac impossible \u00e0 d\u00e9crire. Ce n'\u00e9tait point des tranch\u00e9es, mais une\ndouleur d'inanition atroce et d\u00e9chirante. Vers la nuit elle fit place \u00e0\nune sorte de d\u00e9sir d\u00e9r\u00e9gl\u00e9, \u00e0 une envie de nourriture, \u00e0 quelque chose\nde semblable, je suppose, aux envies d'une femme grosse. Je pris un\nautre verre d'eau avec du sucre; mais mon estomac y r\u00e9pugna, et je\nrendis tout. Alors je bus un verre d'eau sans sucre que je gardai, et je\nme remis sur le lit, priant du fond du c\u0153ur, afin qu'il pl\u00fbt \u00e0 Dieu de\nm'appeler \u00e0 lui; et apr\u00e8s avoir calm\u00e9 mon esprit par cet espoir, je\nsommeillai quelque temps. \u00c0 mon r\u00e9veil, affaiblie par les vapeurs qui\ns'\u00e9l\u00e8vent d'un estomac vide, je me crus mourante. Je recommandai mon \u00e2me\n\u00e0 Dieu, et je souhaitai vivement que quelqu'un voul\u00fbt me jeter \u00e0 la mer.\n\u00bb Durant tout ce temps ma ma\u00eetresse \u00e9tait \u00e9tendue pr\u00e8s de moi, et, comme\nje l'appr\u00e9hendais, sur le point d'expirer. Toutefois elle supportait son\nmal avec beaucoup plus de r\u00e9signation que moi, et donna son dernier\nmorceau de pain \u00e0 son fils, mon jeune ma\u00eetre, qui ne voulait point le\nprendre; mais elle le contraignit \u00e0 le manger, et c'est, je crois, ce\nqui lui sauva la vie.\n\u00bb Vers le matin, je me rendormis, et quand je me r\u00e9veillai, d'abord\nj'eus un d\u00e9bordement de pleurs, puis un second acc\u00e8s de faim d\u00e9vorante,\ntel que je redevins vorace et retombai dans un affreux \u00e9tat: si ma\nma\u00eetresse e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 morte, quelle que f\u00fbt mon affection pour elle, j'ai la\nconviction que j'aurais mang\u00e9 un morceau de sa chair avec autant de go\u00fbt\net aussi indiff\u00e9remment que je le fis jamais de la viande d'aucun animal\ndestin\u00e9 \u00e0 la nourriture; une ou deux fois, je fus tent\u00e9e de mordre \u00e0 mon\npropre bras. Enfin, j'apper\u00e7us le bassin dans lequel \u00e9tait le sang que\nj'avais perdu la veille; j'y courus, et j'avalai ce sang avec autant de\nh\u00e2te et d'avidit\u00e9 que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9tonn\u00e9e que personne ne s'en f\u00fbt\nempar\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0, et que j'eusse craint qu'on voul\u00fbt alors me l'arracher.\n\u00bb Bien qu'une fois faite cette action me remplit d'horreur, cependant\ncela \u00e9tourdit ma grosse faim, et, ayant pris un verre d'eau pure, je fus\nremise et restaur\u00e9e pour quelques heures. C'\u00e9tait le quatri\u00e8me jour, et\nje me soutins ainsi jusque vers la nuit, o\u00f9, dans l'espace de trois\nheures, je passai de nouveau, tour \u00e0 tour, par toutes les circonstances\npr\u00e9c\u00e9dentes, c'est-\u00e0-dire que je fus malade, assoupie, affam\u00e9e,\nsouffrante de l'estomac, puis de nouveau vorace, puis de nouveau malade,\npuis folle, puis \u00e9plor\u00e9e, puis derechef vorace. De quart d'heure en\nquart d'heure changeant ainsi d'\u00e9tat, mes forces s'\u00e9puis\u00e8rent\ntotalement. \u00c0 la nuit, je me couchai, ayant pour toute consolation\nl'espoir de mourir avant le matin.\n\u00bb Je ne dormis point de toute cette nuit, ma faim \u00e9tait alors devenue\nune maladie, et j'eus une terrible colique et des tranch\u00e9es engendr\u00e9es\npar les vents qui, au d\u00e9faut de nourriture, s'\u00e9taient fray\u00e9 un passage\ndans mes entrailles. Je restai dans cet \u00e9tat jusqu'au lendemain matin,\no\u00f9 je fus quelque peu surprise par les plaintes et les lamentations de\nmon jeune ma\u00eetre, qui me criait que sa m\u00e8re \u00e9tait morte. Je me soulevai\nun peu, n'ayant pas la force de me lever, mais je vis qu'elle respirait\nencore, quoiqu'elle ne donn\u00e2t que de faibles signes de vie.\n\u00bb J'avais alors de telles convulsions d'estomac, provoqu\u00e9es par le\nmanque de nourriture, que je ne saurais en donner une id\u00e9e; et de\nfr\u00e9quents d\u00e9chirements, des transes de faim telles que rien n'y peut\n\u00eatre compar\u00e9, sinon les tortures de la mort. C'est dans cet \u00e9tat que\nj'\u00e9tais, quand j'entendis au-dessus de moi les matelots crier:--\u00abUne\nvoile! une voile!\u00bb--et vocif\u00e9rer et sauter comme s'ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 en\nd\u00e9mence.\n\u00bb Je n'\u00e9tais pas capable de sortir du lit, ma ma\u00eetresse encore moins, et\nmon jeune ma\u00eetre \u00e9tait si malade que je le croyais expirant. Nous ne\np\u00fbmes donc ouvrir la porte de la cabine ni apprendre ce qui pouvait\noccasionner un pareil tumulte. Il y avait deux jours que nous n'avions\neu aucun rapport avec les gens de l'\u00e9quipage, qui nous avaient dit\nn'avoir pas dans le b\u00e2timent une bouch\u00e9e de quoi que ce soit \u00e0 manger.\nEt depuis, ils nous avou\u00e8rent qu'ils nous avaient crus morts.\n\u00bb C'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 l'affreux \u00e9tat o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions quand vous f\u00fbtes envoy\u00e9 pour\nnous sauver la vie. Et comment vous nous trouv\u00e2tes, sir, vous le savez\naussi bien et m\u00eame mieux que moi.\u00bb\nTel fut son propre r\u00e9cit. C'\u00e9tait une relation tellement exacte de ce\nqu'on souffre en mourant de faim, que jamais vraiment je n'avais rien\nou\u00ef de pareil, et qu'elle fut excessivement int\u00e9ressante pour moi. Je\nsuis d'autant plus dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 croire que cette peinture est vraie, que le\njeune homme m'en toucha lui-m\u00eame une bonne partie, quoique, \u00e0 vrai dire,\nd'une fa\u00e7on moins pr\u00e9cise et moins poignante, sans doute parce que sa\nm\u00e8re l'avait soutenu aux d\u00e9pens de sa propre vie. Bien que la pauvre\nservante f\u00fbt d'une constitution plus forte que sa ma\u00eetresse, d\u00e9j\u00e0 sur le\nretour et d\u00e9licate, il se peut qu'elle ait eu \u00e0 lutter plus cruellement\ncontre la faim, je veux dire qu'il peut \u00eatre pr\u00e9sumable que cette\ninfortun\u00e9e en ait ressenti les horreurs plus t\u00f4t que sa ma\u00eetresse, qu'on\nne saurait bl\u00e2mer d'avoir gard\u00e9 les derniers morceaux, sans en rien\nabandonner pour le soulagement de sa servante. Sans aucun doute d'apr\u00e8s\ncette relation, si notre navire ou quelque autre ne les e\u00fbt pas si\nprovidentiellement rencontr\u00e9s, quelques jours de plus, et ils \u00e9taient\ntouts morts, \u00e0 moins qu'ils n'eussent pr\u00e9venu l'\u00e9v\u00e9nement en se mangeant\nles uns les autres; et m\u00eame, dans leur position, cela ne leur e\u00fbt que\npeu servi, vu qu'ils \u00e9taient \u00e0 cinq cents lieues de toute terre et hors\nde toute possibilit\u00e9 d'\u00eatre secourus autrement que de la mani\u00e8re\nmiraculeuse dont la chose advint. Mais ceci soit dit en passant. Je\nretourne \u00e0 mes dispositions concernant ma colonie.\nEt d'abord il faut observer que, pour maintes raisons, je ne jugeai pas\n\u00e0 propos de leur parler du _sloop_ que j'avais embarqu\u00e9 en botte, et que\nj'avais pens\u00e9 faire assembler dans l'\u00eele; car je trouvai, du moins \u00e0 mon\narriv\u00e9e, de telles semences de discorde parmi eux, que je vis\nclairement, si je reconstruisais le _sloop_ et le leur laissais, qu'au\nmoindre m\u00e9contentement ils se s\u00e9pareraient, s'en iraient chacun de son\nc\u00f4t\u00e9, ou peut-\u00eatre m\u00eame s'adonneraient \u00e0 la piraterie et feraient ainsi\nde l'\u00eele un repaire de brigands, au lieu d'une colonie de gens sages et\nreligieux comme je voulais qu'elle f\u00fbt. Je ne leur laissai pas\ndavantage, pour la m\u00eame raison, les deux pi\u00e8ces de canon de bronze que\nj'avais \u00e0 bord et les deux caronades dont mon neveu s'\u00e9tait charg\u00e9 par\nsurcro\u00eet. Ils me semblaient suffisamment \u00e9quip\u00e9s pour une guerre\nd\u00e9fensive contre quiconque entreprendrait sur eux; et je n'entendais\npoint les armer pour une guerre offensive ni les encourager \u00e0 faire des\nexcursions pour attaquer autrui, ce qui, en d\u00e9finitive, n'e\u00fbt attir\u00e9 sur\neux et leurs desseins que la ruine et la destruction. Je r\u00e9servai, en\ncons\u00e9quence, le _sloop_ et les canons pour leur \u00eatre utiles d'une autre\nmani\u00e8re, comme je le consignerai en son lieu.\nJ'en avais alors fini avec mon \u00eele. Laissant touts mes planteurs en\nbonne passe, et dans une situation florissante, je retournai \u00e0 bord de\nmon navire le cinqui\u00e8me jour de mai, apr\u00e8s avoir demeur\u00e9 vingt-cinq\njours parmi eux; comme ils \u00e9taient touts r\u00e9solus \u00e0 rester dans l'\u00eele\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que je vinsse les en tirer, je leur promis de leur envoyer de\nnouveaux secours du Br\u00e9sil, si je pouvais en trouver l'occasion, et\nsp\u00e9cialement je m'engageai \u00e0 leur envoyer du b\u00e9tail, tels que moutons,\ncochons et vaches: car pour les deux vaches et les veaux que j'avais\nemmen\u00e9s d'Angleterre, la longueur de la travers\u00e9e nous avait contraints\n\u00e0 les tuer, faute de foin pour les nourrir.\nLe lendemain, apr\u00e8s les avoir salu\u00e9s de cinq coups de canon de partance,\nnous f\u00eemes voile, et nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 la Baie de Touts-les-Saints, au\nBr\u00e9sil, en vingt-deux jours environ, sans avoir rencontr\u00e9 durant le\ntrajet rien de remarquable que ceci: Apr\u00e8s trois jours de navigation,\n\u00e9tant abri\u00e9s et le courant nous portant violemment au Nord-Nord-Est dans\nune baie ou golfe vers la c\u00f4te, nous f\u00fbmes quelque peu entra\u00een\u00e9s hors de\nnotre route, et une ou deux fois nos hommes cri\u00e8rent:--\u00abTerre \u00e0\nl'Est!\u00bb--Mais \u00e9tait-ce le Continent ou des \u00eeles? C'est ce que nous\nn'aurions su dire aucunement.\nOr le troisi\u00e8me jour, vers le soir, la mer \u00e9tant douce et le temps\ncalme, nous v\u00eemes la surface de l'eau en quelque sorte couverte, du c\u00f4t\u00e9\nde la terre, de quelque chose de tr\u00e8s-noir, sans pouvoir distinguer ce\nque c'\u00e9tait. Mais un instant apr\u00e8s, notre second \u00e9tant mont\u00e9 dans les\nhaubans du grand m\u00e2t, et ayant braqu\u00e9 une lunette d'approche sur ce\npoint, cria que c'\u00e9tait une arm\u00e9e. Je ne pouvais m'imaginer ce qu'il\nentendait par une arm\u00e9e, et je lui r\u00e9pondis assez brusquement,\nl'appelant fou, ou quelque chose semblable.--\u00abOui-da, sir, dit-il, ne\nvous f\u00e2chez pas, car c'est bien une arm\u00e9e et m\u00eame une flotte; car je\ncrois qu'il y a bien mille canots! Vous pouvez d'ailleurs les voir\npagayer; ils s'avancent en h\u00e2te vers nous, et sont pleins de monde.\u00bb\nDans le fond je fus alors un peu surpris, ainsi que mon neveu, le\ncapitaine; comme il avait entendu dans l'\u00eele de terribles histoires sur\nles Sauvages et n'\u00e9tait point encore venu dans ces mers, il ne savait\ntrop que penser de cela; et deux ou trois fois il s'\u00e9cria que nous\nallions touts \u00eatre d\u00e9vor\u00e9s. Je dois l'avouer, vu que nous \u00e9tions abri\u00e9s,\net que le courant portait avec force vers la terre, je mettais les\nchoses au pire. Cependant je lui recommandai de ne pas s'effrayer, mais\nde faire mouiller l'ancre aussit\u00f4t que nous serions assez pr\u00e8s pour\nsavoir s'il nous fallait en venir aux mains avec eux.\nLe temps demeurant calme, et les canots nageant rapidement vers nous, je\ndonnai l'ordre de jeter l'ancre et de ferler toutes nos voiles. Quant\naux Sauvages, je dis \u00e0 nos gens que nous n'avions \u00e0 redouter de leur\npart que le feu; que, pour cette raison, il fallait mettre nos\nembarcations \u00e0 la mer, les amarrer, l'une \u00e0 la proue, l'autre \u00e0 la\npoupe, les bien \u00e9quiper toutes deux, et attendre ainsi l'\u00e9v\u00e9nement.\nJ'eus soin que les hommes des embarcations se tinssent pr\u00eats, avec des\nseaux et des \u00e9copes, \u00e0 \u00e9teindre le feu si les Sauvages tentaient de le\nmettre \u00e0 l'ext\u00e9rieur du navire.\nDans cette attitude nous les attend\u00eemes, et en peu de temps ils\nentr\u00e8rent dans nos eaux; mais jamais si horrible spectacle ne s'\u00e9tait\noffert \u00e0 des Chr\u00e9tiens! Mon lieutenant s'\u00e9tait tromp\u00e9 de beaucoup dans\nle calcul de leur nombre,--je veux dire en le portant \u00e0 mille\ncanots,--le plus que nous p\u00fbmes en compter quand ils nous eurent\natteints \u00e9tant d'environ cent vingt-six. Ces canots contenaient une\nmultitude d'Indiens; car quelques-uns portaient seize ou dix-sept\nhommes, d'autres davantage, et les moindre six ou sept.\nLorsqu'ils se furent approch\u00e9s de nous, ils sembl\u00e8rent frapp\u00e9s\nd'\u00e9tonnement et d'admiration, comme \u00e0 l'aspect d'une chose qu'ils\nn'avaient sans doute jamais vue auparavant, et ils ne surent d'abord,\ncomme nous le compr\u00eemes ensuite, comment s'y prendre avec nous.\nCependant, ils s'avanc\u00e8rent hardiment, et parurent se disposer \u00e0 nous\nentourer; mais nous cri\u00e2mes \u00e0 nos hommes qui montaient les chaloupes, de\nne pas les laisser venir trop pr\u00e8s.\nMORT DE VENDREDI\nCet ordre nous amena un engagement avec eux, sans que nous en eussions\nle dessein; car cinq ou six de leurs grands canots s'\u00e9tant fort\napproch\u00e9s de notre chaloupe, nos gens leur signifi\u00e8rent de la main de se\nretirer, ce qu'ils comprirent fort bien, et ce qu'ils firent; mais, dans\nleur retraite, une cinquantaine de fl\u00e8ches nous furent d\u00e9coch\u00e9es de ces\npirogues, et un de nos matelots de la chaloupe tomba gri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9.\nN\u00e9anmoins, je leur criai de ne point faire feu; mais nous leur pass\u00e2mes\nbon nombre de planches, dont le charpentier fit sur-le-champ une sorte\nde palissade ou de rempart, pour les d\u00e9fendre des fl\u00e8ches des Sauvages,\ns'ils venaient \u00e0 tirer de nouveau.\nUne demi-heure apr\u00e8s environ, ils s'avanc\u00e8rent touts en masse sur notre\narri\u00e8re, passablement pr\u00e8s, si pr\u00e8s m\u00eame, que nous pouvions facilement\nles distinguer, sans toutefois p\u00e9n\u00e9trer leur dessein. Je reconnus\nais\u00e9ment qu'ils \u00e9taient de mes vieux amis, je veux dire de la m\u00eame race\nde Sauvages que ceux avec lesquels j'avais eu coutume de me mesurer.\nEnsuite ils nag\u00e8rent un peu plus au large jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'ils fussent\nvis-\u00e0-vis de notre flanc, puis alors tir\u00e8rent \u00e0 la rame droit sur nous,\net s'approch\u00e8rent tellement qu'ils pouvaient nous entendre parler. Sur\nce, j'ordonnai \u00e0 touts mes hommes de se tenir clos et couverts, de peur\nque les Sauvages ne d\u00e9cochassent de nouveau quelques traits, et\nd'appr\u00eater toutes nos armes. Comme ils se trouvaient \u00e0 port\u00e9e de la\nvoix, je fis monter VENDREDI sur le pont pour s'arraisonner avec eux\ndans son langage, et savoir ce qu'ils pr\u00e9tendaient. Il m'ob\u00e9it. Le\ncomprirent-ils ou non, c'est ce que j'ignore; mais sit\u00f4t qu'il les eut\nh\u00e9l\u00e9s, six d'entre eux, qui \u00e9taient dans le canot le plus avanc\u00e9,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire le plus rapproch\u00e9 de nous, firent volte-face, et, se\nbaissant, nous montr\u00e8rent leur derri\u00e8re nu, pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment comme si, en\nanglais, sauf votre respect. Ils nous eussent dit: _Baise_... \u00c9tait-ce\nun d\u00e9fi ou un cartel, \u00e9tait-ce purement une marque de m\u00e9pris ou un\nsignal pour les autres, nous ne savions; mais au m\u00eame instant VENDREDI\ns'\u00e9cria qu'ils allaient tirer, et, malheureusement pour lui, pauvre\ngar\u00e7on! ils firent voler plus de trois cents fl\u00e8ches; et, \u00e0 mon\ninexprimable douleur, tu\u00e8rent ce pauvre VENDREDI, expos\u00e9 seul \u00e0 leur\nvue. L'infortun\u00e9 fut perc\u00e9 de trois fl\u00e8ches et trois autres tomb\u00e8rent\ntr\u00e8s-pr\u00e8s de lui, tant ils \u00e9taient de redoutables tireurs.\nJe fus si furieux de la perte de mon vieux serviteur, le compagnon de\ntouts mes chagrins et de mes solitudes, que j'ordonnai sur-le-champ de\ncharger cinq canons \u00e0 biscayens et quatre \u00e0 boulets et nous leur\nenvoy\u00e2mes une bord\u00e9e telle, que de leur vie ils n'en avaient jamais\nessuy\u00e9 de pareille, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr.\nIls n'\u00e9taient pas \u00e0 plus d'une demi-enc\u00e2blure quand nous f\u00eemes feu, et\nnos canonniers avaient point\u00e9 si juste, que trois ou quatre de leurs\ncanots furent, comme nous e\u00fbmes tout lieu de le croire, renvers\u00e9s d'un\nseul coup.\nLa mani\u00e8re incongrue dont ils nous avaient tourn\u00e9 leur derri\u00e8re tout nu\nne nous avait pas grandement offens\u00e9; d'ailleurs, il n'\u00e9tait pas certain\nque cela, qui passerait chez nous pour une marque du plus grand m\u00e9pris,\nf\u00fbt par eux entendu de m\u00eame; aussi avais-je seulement r\u00e9solu de les\nsaluer en revanche de quatre ou cinq coups de canon \u00e0 poudre, ce que je\nsavais devoir les effrayer suffisamment. Mais quand ils tir\u00e8rent\ndirectement sur nous avec toute la furie dont ils \u00e9taient capables, et\nsurtout lorsqu'ils eurent tu\u00e9 mon pauvre VENDREDI, que j'aimais et\nestimais tant, et qui, par le fait, le m\u00e9ritait si bien, non-seulement\nje crus ma col\u00e8re justifi\u00e9e devant Dieu et devant les hommes, mais\nj'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 content si j'eusse pu les submerger eux et touts leurs\ncanots.\nJe ne saurais dire combien nous en tu\u00e2mes ni combien nous en bless\u00e2mes\nde cette bord\u00e9e; mais, assur\u00e9ment, jamais on ne vit un tel effroi et un\ntel hourvari parmi une telle multitude: il y avait bien en tout, fris\u00e9es\net culbut\u00e9es, treize ou quatorze pirogues dont les hommes s'\u00e9taient\njet\u00e9s \u00e0 la nage; le reste de ces barbares, \u00e9pouvant\u00e9s, \u00e9perdus,\ns'enfuyaient aussi vite que possible, se souciant peu de sauver ceux\ndont les pirogues avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bris\u00e9es ou effondr\u00e9es par notre canonnade.\nAussi, je le suppose, beaucoup d'entre eux p\u00e9rirent-ils. Un pauvre\ndiable, qui luttait \u00e0 la nage contre les flots, fut recueilli par nos\ngens plus d'une heure apr\u00e8s que touts \u00e9taient partis.\nNos coups de canon \u00e0 biscayens durent en tuer et en blesser un grand\nnombre; mais, bref, nous ne p\u00fbmes savoir ce qu'il en avait \u00e9t\u00e9: ils\ns'enfuirent si pr\u00e9cipitamment qu'au bout de trois heures ou environ,\nnous n'appercevions plus que trois ou quatre canots tra\u00eeneurs[17]. Et\nnous ne rev\u00eemes plus les autres, car, une brise se levant le m\u00eame soir,\nnous appareill\u00e2mes et f\u00eemes voile pour le Br\u00e9sil.\nNous avions bien un prisonnier, mais il \u00e9tait si triste, qu'il ne\nvoulait ni manger ni parler. Nous nous figur\u00e2mes touts qu'il avait\nr\u00e9solu de se laisser mourir de faim. Pour le gu\u00e9rir, j'usai d'un\nexp\u00e9dient: j'ordonnai qu'on le pr\u00eet, qu'on le redescend\u00eet dans la\nchaloupe, et qu'on lui f\u00eet accroire qu'on allait le rejeter \u00e0 la mer, et\nl'abandonner o\u00f9 on l'avait trouv\u00e9, s'il persistait \u00e0 garder le silence.\nIl s'obstina: nos matelots le jet\u00e8rent donc r\u00e9ellement \u00e0 la mer et\ns'\u00e9loign\u00e8rent de lui; alors il les suivit, car il nageait comme un\nli\u00e9ge, et se mit \u00e0 les appeler dans sa langue; mais ils ne comprirent\npas un mot de ce qu'il disait. Cependant, \u00e0 la fin, ils le reprirent \u00e0\nbord. Depuis, il devint plus traitable, et je n'eus plus recours \u00e0 cet\nexp\u00e9dient.\nNous rem\u00eemes alors \u00e0 la voile. J'\u00e9tais inconsolable de la perte de mon\nserviteur VENDREDI et je serais volontiers retourn\u00e9 dans l'\u00eele pour y\nprendre quelqu'autre sauvage \u00e0 mon service, mais cela ne se pouvait pas;\nnous poursuiv\u00eemes donc notre route. Nous avions un prisonnier, comme je\nl'ai dit, et beaucoup de temps s'\u00e9coula avant que nous pussions lui\nfaire entendre la moindre chose. \u00c0 la longue, cependant, nos gens lui\napprirent quelque peu d'anglais, et il se montra plus sociable. Nous lui\ndemand\u00e2mes de quel pays il venait: sa r\u00e9ponse nous laissa au m\u00eame point,\ncar son langage \u00e9tait si \u00e9trange, si guttural, et se parlait de la gorge\nd'une fa\u00e7on si sourde et si bizarre, qu'il nous fut impossible d'en\nrecueillir un mot, et nous f\u00fbmes touts d'avis qu'on pouvait aussi bien\nparler ce baragouin avec un b\u00e2illon dans la bouche qu'autrement. Ses\ndents, sa langue, son palais, ses l\u00e8vres, autant que nous p\u00fbmes voir, ne\nlui \u00e9taient d'aucun usage: il formait ses mots, pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment comme une\ntrompe de chasse forme un ton, \u00e0 plein gosier. Il nous dit cependant,\nquelque temps apr\u00e8s, quand nous lui e\u00fbmes enseign\u00e9 \u00e0 articuler un peu\nl'anglais, qu'ils s'en allaient avec leurs rois pour livrer une grande\nbataille. Comme il avait dit rois, nous lui demand\u00e2mes combien ils en\navaient. Il nous r\u00e9pondit qu'il y avait l\u00e0 cinq _nation_,--car nous ne\npouvions lui faire comprendre l'usage de l'S au pluriel,--et qu'elles\ns'\u00e9taient r\u00e9unies pour combattre deux autres _NATION_. Nous lui\ndemand\u00e2mes alors pourquoi ils s'\u00e9taient avanc\u00e9s sur nous.--\u00abPour faire\nla grande merveille regarder,\u00bb--dit-il (_To makee te great wonder\nlook_). \u00c0 ce propos, il est bon de remarquer, que touts ces naturels, de\nm\u00eame que ceux d'Afrique, quand ils apprennent l'anglais, ajoutent\ntoujours deux E \u00e0 la fin des mots o\u00f9 nous n'en mettons qu'un, et placent\nl'accent sur le dernier, comme _makee_, _takee_, par exemple,\nprononciation vicieuse dont on ne saurait les d\u00e9saccoutumer, et dont\nj'eus beaucoup de peine \u00e0 d\u00e9barrasser VENDREDI, bien que j'eusse fini\npar en venir \u00e0 bout.\nEt maintenant que je viens de nommer encore une fois ce pauvre gar\u00e7on,\nil faut que je lui dise un dernier adieu. Pauvre honn\u00eate VENDREDI!...\nNous l'ensevel\u00eemes avec toute la d\u00e9cence et la solemnit\u00e9 possibles. On\nle mit dans un cercueil, on le jeta \u00e0 la mer, et je fis tirer pour lui\nonze coups de canon. Ainsi finit la vie du plus reconnaissant, du plus\nfid\u00e8le, du plus candide, du plus affectionn\u00e9 serviteur qui f\u00fbt jamais.\n\u00c0 la faveur d'un bon vent, nous cinglions alors vers le Br\u00e9sil, et, au\nbout de douze jours environs, nous d\u00e9couvr\u00eemes la terre par latitude de\ncinq degr\u00e9s Sud de la ligne: c'est l\u00e0 le point le plus Nord-Est de toute\ncette partie de l'Am\u00e9rique. Nous demeur\u00e2mes Sud-quart-Est en vue de\ncette c\u00f4te pendant quatre jours; nous doubl\u00e2mes alors le Cap\nSaint-Augustin, et, trois jours apr\u00e8s, nous v\u00eenmes mouiller dans la Baie\nde Touts-les-Saints, l'ancien lieu de ma d\u00e9livrance, d'o\u00f9 m'\u00e9taient\nvenues \u00e9galement ma bonne et ma mauvaise fortune.\nJamais navire n'avait amen\u00e9 dans ce parage personne qui y e\u00fbt moins\naffaire que moi, et cependant ce ne fut qu'avec beaucoup de difficult\u00e9s\nque nous f\u00fbmes admis \u00e0 avoir \u00e0 terre la moindre communication. Ni mon\npartner lui-m\u00eame, qui vivait encore, et faisait en ces lieux grande\nfigure, ni les deux n\u00e9gociants, mes curateurs, ni le bruit de ma\nmiraculeuse conservation dans l'\u00eele, ne purent obtenir cette faveur.\nToutefois, mon partner, se souvenant que j'avais donn\u00e9 cinq cents\nMOIDORES au Prieur du monast\u00e8re des Augustins, et trois cent\nsoixante-douze aux pauvres, alla au couvent et engagea celui qui pour\nlors en \u00e9tait le Prieur \u00e0 se rendre aupr\u00e8s du Gouverneur pour lui\ndemander pour moi la permission de descendre \u00e0 terre avec le capitaine,\nquelqu'un autre et huit matelots seulement, et ceci sous la condition\nexpresse et absolue que nous ne d\u00e9barquerions aucune marchandise et ne\ntransporterions nulle autre personne sans autorisation.\nOn fut si strict envers nous, quant au non-d\u00e9barquement des\nmarchandises, que ce ne fut qu'avec extr\u00eame difficult\u00e9 que je pus mettre\n\u00e0 terre trois ballots de merceries anglaises, \u00e0 savoir, de draps fins,\nd'\u00e9toffes et de toiles que j'avais apport\u00e9es pour en faire pr\u00e9sent \u00e0 mon\npartner.\nC'\u00e9tait un homme g\u00e9n\u00e9reux et grand, bien que, ainsi que moi, il f\u00fbt\nparti de fort bas d'abord. Quoiqu'il ne s\u00fbt pas que j'eusse le moindre\ndessein de lui rien donner, il m'envoya \u00e0 bord des provisions fra\u00eeches,\ndu vin et des confitures, pour une valeur de plus de trente MOIDORES, \u00e0\nquoi il avait joint du tabac et trois ou quatre belles m\u00e9dailles d'or;\nmais je m'acquittai envers lui par mon pr\u00e9sent, qui, comme je l'ai dit,\nconsistait en drap fin, en \u00e9toffes anglaises, en dentelles et, en belles\ntoiles de Hollande. Je lui livrai en outre pour cent livres sterling de\nmarchandises d'autre esp\u00e8ce, et j'obtins de lui, en retour, qu'il ferait\nassembler le _sloop_ que j'avais apport\u00e9 avec moi d'Angleterre pour\nl'usage de mes planteurs, afin d'envoyer \u00e0 ma colonie les secours que je\nlui destinais.\nEn cons\u00e9quence il se procura des bras, et le _sloop_ fut achev\u00e9 en\ntr\u00e8s-peu de jours, car il \u00e9tait tout fa\u00e7onn\u00e9 d\u00e9j\u00e0; et je donnai au\ncapitaine qui en prit le commandement des instructions telles qu'il ne\npouvait manquer de trouver l'\u00eele. Aussi la trouva-t-il, comme par la\nsuite j'en re\u00e7us l'avis de mon partner. Le _sloop_ fut bient\u00f4t charg\u00e9 de\nla petite cargaison que j'adressais \u00e0 mes insulaires, et un de nos\nmarins, qui m'avait suivi dans l'\u00eele, m'offrit alors de s'embarquer pour\naller s'y \u00e9tablir moyennant une lettre de moi, laquelle enjoign\u00eet au\ngouverneur espagnol de lui assigner une \u00e9tendue de terrain suffisante\npour une plantation, et de lui donner les outils et les choses\nn\u00e9cessaires pour faire des plantages, ce \u00e0 quoi il se disait fort\nentendu, ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 planteur au Maryland et, par-dessus le march\u00e9,\nboucanier.\nJe confirmai ce gar\u00e7on dans son dessein en lui accordant tout ce qu'il\nd\u00e9sirait. Pour se l'attacher comme esclave, je l'avantageai en outre du\nSauvage que nous avions fait prisonnier de guerre, et je fis passer\nl'ordre au gouverneur espagnol de lui donner sa part de tout ce dont il\navait besoin, ainsi qu'aux autres.\nEMBARQUEMENT DE BESTIAUX POUR L'\u00ceLE\nQuand nous en v\u00eenmes \u00e0 \u00e9quiper le _sloop_, mon vieux partner me dit\nqu'il y avait un tr\u00e8s-honn\u00eate homme, un planteur br\u00e9silien de sa\nconnaissance lequel avait encouru la disgr\u00e2ce de l'\u00c9glise.--\u00abJe ne sais\npourquoi, dit-il, mais, sur ma conscience je pense qu'il est h\u00e9r\u00e9tique\ndans le fond de son c\u0153ur. De peur de l'inquisition, il a \u00e9t\u00e9 oblig\u00e9 de\nse cacher. \u00c0 coup s\u00fbr, il serait ravi de trouver une pareille occasion\nde s'\u00e9chapper avec sa femme et ses deux filles. Si vous vouliez bien le\nlaisser \u00e9migrer dans votre \u00eele et lui constituer une plantation, je me\nchargerais de lui donner un petit mat\u00e9riel pour commencer; car les\nofficiers de l'Inquisition ont saisi touts ses effets et touts ses\nbiens, et il ne lui reste rien qu'un ch\u00e9tif mobilier et deux esclaves.\nQuoique je ha\u00efsse ses principes, cependant je ne voudrais pas le voir\ntomber entre leurs mains; s\u00fbrement il serait br\u00fbl\u00e9 vif.\u00bb\nJ'adh\u00e9rai sur-le-champ \u00e0 cette proposition, je r\u00e9unis mon Anglais \u00e0\ncette famille, et nous cach\u00e2mes l'homme, sa femme et ses filles sur\nnotre navire, jusqu'au moment o\u00f9 le _sloop_ mit \u00e0 la voile. Alors, leurs\neffets ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 port\u00e9s \u00e0 bord de cette embarcation quelque temps\nauparavant, nous les y d\u00e9pos\u00e2mes quand elle fut sortie de la baie.\nNotre marin fut extr\u00eamement aise de ce nouveau compagnon. Aussi riches\nl'un que l'autre en outils et en mat\u00e9riaux, ils n'avaient, pour\ncommencer leur \u00e9tablissement, que ce dont j'ai fait mention ci-dessus;\nmais ils emportaient avec eux,--ce qui valait tout le reste,--quelques\nplants de canne \u00e0 sucre et quelques instruments pour la culture des\ncannes, \u00e0 laquelle le Portugais s'entendait fort bien.\nEntre autres secours que je fis passer \u00e0 mes tenanciers dans l'\u00eele, je\nleur envoyai par ce _sloop:_ trois vaches laiti\u00e8res, cinq veaux, environ\nvingt-deux porcs, parmi lesquels trois truies pleines; enfin deux\npoulini\u00e8res et un \u00e9talon.\nJ'engageai trois femmes portugaises \u00e0 partir, selon ma promesse faite\naux Espagnols, auxquels je recommandai de les \u00e9pouser et d'en user\ndignement avec elles. J'aurais pu en embarquer bien davantage, mais je\nme souvins que le pauvre homme pers\u00e9cut\u00e9 avait deux filles, et que cinq\nEspagnols seulement en d\u00e9siraient; les autres avaient des femmes en leur\npuissance, bien qu'en pays \u00e9loign\u00e9s.\nToute cette cargaison arriva \u00e0 bon port et fut, comme il vous est facile\nde l'imaginer, fort bien re\u00e7ue par mes vieux habitants, qui se\ntrouv\u00e8rent alors, avec cette addition, au nombre de soixante ou\nsoixante-dix personnes, non compris les petits enfants, dont il y avait\nfoison Quand je revins en Angleterre, je trouvai des lettres d'eux\ntouts, apport\u00e9es par le _sloop_ \u00e0 son retour du Br\u00e9sil et venues par la\nvoie de Lisbonne. J'en accuse ici r\u00e9ception.\nMaintenant, j'en ai fini avec mon \u00eele, je romps avec tout ce qui la\nconcerne; et quiconque lira le reste de ces m\u00e9moires fera bien de l'\u00f4ter\ntout-\u00e0-fait de sa pens\u00e9e, et de s'attendre \u00e0 lire seulement les folies\nd'un vieillard que ses propres malheurs et \u00e0 plus forte raison ceux\nd'autrui n'avaient pu instruire \u00e0 se garer de nouveaux d\u00e9sastres; d'un\nvieillard que n'avait pu rasseoir plus de quarante ann\u00e9es de mis\u00e8res et\nd'adversit\u00e9s, que n'avaient pu satisfaire une prosp\u00e9rit\u00e9 surpassant son\nesp\u00e9rance, et que n'avaient pu rendre sage une affliction, une d\u00e9tresse\nqui passe l'imagination.\nJe n'avais pas plus affaire d'aller aux Indes-Orientales qu'un homme en\npleine libert\u00e9 n'en a d'aller trouver le guichetier de Newgate, et de le\nprier de l'enfermer avec les autres prisonniers et de lui faire souffrir\nla faim. Si j'avais pris un petit b\u00e2timent anglais pour me rendre\ndirectement dans l'\u00eele, si je l'avais charg\u00e9, comme j'avais fait l'autre\nvaisseau, de toutes choses n\u00e9cessaires pour la plantation et pour mon\npeuple; si j'avais demand\u00e9 \u00e0 ce gouvernement-ci des lettres-patentes qui\nassurassent ma propri\u00e9t\u00e9, rang\u00e9e simplement sous la domination de\nl'Angleterre, ce qu'assur\u00e9ment j'eusse obtenu; si j'y avais transport\u00e9\ndu canon, des munitions, des esclaves, des planteurs; si, prenant\npossession de la place, je l'eusse munie et fortifi\u00e9e au nom de la\nGrande-Bretagne et eusse accru na population, comme ais\u00e9ment je l'eusse\npu faire; si alors j'eusse r\u00e9sid\u00e9 l\u00e0 et eusse renvoy\u00e9 le vaisseau charg\u00e9\nde bon riz, ce qu'aussi j'eusse pu faire au bout de six mois, en mandant\n\u00e0 mes amis de nous le r\u00e9exp\u00e9dier avec un chargement \u00e0 notre convenance;\nsi j'avais fait ceci, si je me fusse fix\u00e9 l\u00e0, j'aurais enfin agi, moi,\ncomme un homme de bon sens; mais j'\u00e9tais poss\u00e9d\u00e9 d'un esprit vagabond,\net je m\u00e9prisai touts ces avantages. Je complaisais \u00e0 me voir le patron\nde ces gens que j'avais plac\u00e9s l\u00e0, et \u00e0 en user avec eux en quelque\nsorte d'une mani\u00e8re haute et majestueuse comme un antique monarque\npatriarcal: ayant soin de les pourvoir comme si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 P\u00e8re de\ntoute la famille, comme je l'\u00e9tais de la plantation; mais je n'avais\nseulement jamais eu la pr\u00e9tention de planter au nom de quelque\ngouvernement ou de quelque nation, de reconna\u00eetre quelque prince, et de\nd\u00e9clarer mes gens sujets d'une nation plut\u00f4t que d'une autre; qui plus\nest, je n'avais m\u00eame pas donn\u00e9 de nom \u00e0 l'\u00eele: je la laissai comme je\nl'avais trouv\u00e9e, n'appartenant \u00e0 personne, et sa population n'ayant\nd'autre discipline, d'autre gouvernement que le mien, lequel, bien que\nj'eusse sur elle l'influence d'un p\u00e8re et d'un bienfaiteur, n'avait\npoint d'autorit\u00e9 ou de pouvoir pour agir ou commander allant au-del\u00e0 de\nce que, pour me plaire, elle m'accordait volontairement. Et cependant\ncela aurait \u00e9t\u00e9 plus que suffisant si j'eusse r\u00e9sid\u00e9 dans mon domaine.\nOr, comme j'allai courir au loin et ne reparus plus, les derni\u00e8res\nnouvelles que j'en re\u00e7us me parvinrent par le canal de mon partner, qui\nplus tard envoya un autre _sloop_ \u00e0 la colonie, et qui,--je ne re\u00e7us\ntoutefois sa missive que cinq ann\u00e9es apr\u00e8s qu'elle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e9crite,--me\ndonna avis que mes planteurs n'avan\u00e7aient que ch\u00e9tivement, et\nmurmuraient de leur long s\u00e9jour en ce lieu; que WILL ATKINS \u00e9tait mort;\nque cinq Espagnols \u00e9taient partis; que, bien qu'ils n'eussent pas \u00e9t\u00e9\ntr\u00e8s-molest\u00e9s par les sauvages, ils avaient eu cependant quelques\nescarmouches avec eux et qu'ils le suppliaient de m'\u00e9crire de penser \u00e0\nla promesse que je leur avais faite de les tirer de l\u00e0, afin qu'ils\npussent revoir leur patrie avant de mourir.\nMais j'\u00e9tais parti en chasse de l'_Oie-sauvage_, en v\u00e9rit\u00e9; et ceux qui\nvoudront savoir quelque chose de plus sur mon compte, il faut qu'ils se\nd\u00e9terminent \u00e0 me suivre \u00e0 travers une nouvelle vari\u00e9t\u00e9 d'extravagances,\nde d\u00e9tresse et d'impertinentes aventures, o\u00f9 la justice de la Providence\nse montre clairement, et o\u00f9 nous pouvons voir combien il est facile au\nCiel de nous rassasier de nos propres d\u00e9sirs, de faire que le plus\nardent de nos souhaits soit notre affliction, et de nous punir\ns\u00e9v\u00e8rement dans les choses m\u00eames o\u00f9 nous pensions rencontrer le supr\u00eame\nbonheur.\nQue l'homme sage ne se flatte pas de la force de son propre jugement, et\nde pouvoir faire choix par lui-m\u00eame de sa condition priv\u00e9e dans la vie.\nL'homme est une cr\u00e9ature qui a la vue courte, l'homme ne voit pas loin\ndevant lui; et comme ses passions ne sont pas de ses meilleurs amis, ses\naffections particuli\u00e8res sont g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement ses plus mauvais\nconseillers[18].\nJe dis ceci, faisant trait au d\u00e9sir imp\u00e9tueux que j'avais, comme un\njeune homme, de courir le monde. Combien il \u00e9tait \u00e9vident alors que\ncette inclination s'\u00e9tait perp\u00e9tu\u00e9e en moi pour mon ch\u00e2timent! Comment\nadvint-il, de quelle mani\u00e8re, dans quelle circonstance, quelle en fut la\nconclusion, c'est chose ais\u00e9e de vous le rapporter historiquement et\ndans touts ses d\u00e9tails; mais les fins secr\u00e8tes de la divine Providence,\nen permettant que nous soyons ainsi pr\u00e9cipit\u00e9s dans le torrent de nos\npropres d\u00e9sirs, ne seront comprises que de ceux qui savent pr\u00eater\nl'oreille \u00e0 la voix de la Providence et tirer de religieuses\ncons\u00e9quences de la justice de Dieu et de leurs propres erreurs.\nQue j'eusse affaire ou pas affaire, le fait est que je partis; ce n'est\npoint l'heure maintenant de s'\u00e9tendre plus au long sur la raison ou\nl'absurdit\u00e9 de ma conduite. Or, pour en revenir \u00e0 mon histoire, je\nm'\u00e9tais embarqu\u00e9 pour un voyage, et ce voyage je le poursuivis.\nJ'ajouterai seulement que mon honn\u00eate et v\u00e9ritablement pieux\neccl\u00e9siastique me quitta ici[19]: un navire \u00e9tant pr\u00eat \u00e0 faire voile\npour Lisbonne, il me demanda permission de s'y embarquer, destin\u00e9 qu'il\n\u00e9tait, comme il le remarqua, \u00e0 ne jamais achever un voyage commenc\u00e9.\nQu'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 heureux pour moi que je fusse parti avec lui!\nMais il \u00e9tait trop tard alors. D'ailleurs le Ciel arrange toutes choses\npour le mieux; si j'\u00e9tais parti avec lui, je n'aurais pas eu tant\nd'occasions de rendre gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 Dieu, et vous, vous n'auriez point connu\nla seconde partie des Voyages et Aventures de Robinson CRUSOE. Il me\nfaut donc laisser l\u00e0 ces vaines apostrophes contre moi-m\u00eame, et\ncontinuer mon voyage.\nDu Br\u00e9sil, nous f\u00eemes route directement \u00e0 travers la mer Atlantique pour\nle Cap de Bonne-Esp\u00e9rance, ou, comme nous l'appelons, _the Cape of Good\nHope_, et notre course \u00e9tant g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement Sud-Est, nous e\u00fbmes une assez\nbonne travers\u00e9e; par-ci par-l\u00e0, toutefois, quelques grains ou quelques\nvents contraires. Mais j'en avais fini avec mes d\u00e9sastres sur mer: mes\ninfortunes et mes revers m'attendaient au rivage, afin que je fusse une\npreuve que la terre comme la mer se pr\u00eate \u00e0 notre ch\u00e2timent, quand il\npla\u00eet au Ciel, qui dirige l'\u00e9v\u00e9nement des choses, d'ordonner qu'il en\nsoit ainsi.\nNotre vaisseau, faisant un voyage de commerce, il y avait \u00e0 bord un\nsubr\u00e9cargue, charg\u00e9 de diriger touts ses mouvements une fois arriv\u00e9 au\nCap; seulement, dans chaque port o\u00f9 nous devions faire escale, il ne\npouvait s'arr\u00eater au-del\u00e0 d'un certain nombre de jours fix\u00e9 par la\ncharte-partie; ceci n'\u00e9tait pas mon affaire, je ne m'en m\u00ealai pas du\ntout; mon neveu,--le capitaine,--et le subr\u00e9cargue arrangeaient toutes\nces choses entre eux comme ils le jugeaient convenable.\nNous ne demeur\u00e2mes au Cap que le temps n\u00e9cessaire pour prendre de l'eau,\net nous f\u00eemes route en toute diligence pour la c\u00f4te de Coromandel. De\nfait, nous \u00e9tions inform\u00e9s qu'un vaisseau de guerre fran\u00e7ais de\ncinquante canons et deux gros b\u00e2timents marchands \u00e9taient partis aux\nIndes, et comme je savais que nous \u00e9tions en guerre avec la France, je\nn'\u00e9tais pas sans quelque appr\u00e9hension \u00e0 leur \u00e9gard; mais ils\npoursuivirent leur chemin, et nous n'en e\u00fbmes plus de nouvelles.\nJe n'enchev\u00eatrerai point mon r\u00e9cit ni le lecteur dans la description des\nlieux, le journal de nos voyages, les variations du compas, les\nlatitudes, les distances, les moussons, la situation des ports, et\nautres choses semblables dont presque toutes les histoires de longue\nnavigation sont pleines, choses qui rendent leur lecture assez\nfastidieuse, et sont parfaitement insignifiantes pour tout le monde,\nexcept\u00e9 seulement pour ceux qui sont all\u00e9s eux-m\u00eames dans ces m\u00eames\nparages.\nC'est bien assez de nommer les ports et les lieux o\u00f9 nous rel\u00e2ch\u00e2mes, et\nde rapporter ce qui nous arriva dans le trajet de l'un \u00e0 l'autre.--Nous\ntouch\u00e2mes d'abord \u00e0 l'\u00eele de Madagascar, o\u00f9, quoiqu'ils soient farouches\net perfides, et particuli\u00e8rement tr\u00e8s-bien arm\u00e9s de lances et d'arcs,\ndont ils se servent avec une inconcevable dext\u00e9rit\u00e9, nous ne nous\nentend\u00eemes pas trop mal avec les naturels pendant quelque temps: ils\nnous traitaient avec beaucoup de civilit\u00e9, et pour quelques bagatelles\nque nous leur donn\u00e2mes, telles que couteaux, ciseaux, _et c\u00e6tera_, ils\nnous amen\u00e8rent onze bons et gras bouvillons, de moyenne taille, mais\nfort bien en chair, que nous embarqu\u00e2mes, partie comme provisions\nfra\u00eeches pour notre subsistance pr\u00e9sente, partie pour \u00eatre sal\u00e9 pour\nl'avitaillement du navire.\nTHOMAS JEFFRYS\nApr\u00e8s avoir fait nos approvisionnements, nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de demeurer\nl\u00e0 quelque temps; et moi, toujours aussi curieux d'examiner chaque\nrecoin du monde o\u00f9 j'allais, je descendais \u00e0 terre aussi souvent que\npossible. Un soir, nous d\u00e9barqu\u00e2mes sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9 oriental de l'\u00eele, et\nles habitants, qui, soit dit en passant, sont tr\u00e8s-nombreux, vinrent en\nfoule autour de nous, et tout en nous \u00e9piant, s'arr\u00eat\u00e8rent \u00e0 quelque\ndistance. Comme nous avions trafiqu\u00e9 librement avec eux et qu'ils en\navaient fort bien us\u00e9 avec nous, nous ne nous cr\u00fbmes point en danger;\nmais, en voyant cette multitude, nous coup\u00e2mes trois branches d'arbre et\nles fich\u00e2mes en terre \u00e0 quelques pas de nous, ce qui est, \u00e0 ce qu'il\npara\u00eet, dans ce pays une marque de paix et d'amiti\u00e9. Quand le manifeste\nest accept\u00e9, l'autre parti plante aussi trois rameaux ou pieux en signe\nd'adh\u00e9sion \u00e0 la tr\u00e8ve. Alors, c'est une condition reconnue de la paix,\nque vous ne devez point passer par devers eux au-del\u00e0 de leurs trois\npieux, ni eux venir par devers vous en-de\u00e7\u00e0 des trois v\u00f4tres, de sorte\nque vous \u00eates parfaitement en s\u00fbret\u00e9 derri\u00e8re vos trois perches. Tout\nl'espace entre vos jalons et les leurs est r\u00e9serv\u00e9 comme un march\u00e9 pour\nconverser librement, pour troquer et trafiquer. Quand vous vous rendez\nl\u00e0, vous ne devez point porter vos armes avec vous, et pour eux, quand\nils viennent sur ce terrain, ils laissent pr\u00e8s de leurs pieux leurs\nsagaies et leurs lances, et s'avancent d\u00e9sarm\u00e9s. Mais si quelque\nviolence leur est faite, si, par l\u00e0, la tr\u00e8ve est rompue, ils s'\u00e9lancent\naux pieux, saisissent leurs armes et alors adieu la paix.\nIl advint un soir o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions au rivage, que les habitants\ndescendirent vers nous en plus grand nombre que de coutume, mais touts\naffables et bienveillants. Ils nous apport\u00e8rent plusieurs sortes de\nprovisions, pour lesquelles nous leur donn\u00e2mes quelques babioles que\nnous avions: leurs femmes nous apport\u00e8rent aussi du lait, des racines,\net diff\u00e9rentes choses pour nous tr\u00e8s-acceptables, et tout demeura\npaisible. Nous f\u00eemes une petite tente ou hutte avec quelques branches\nd'arbres pour passer la nuit \u00e0 terre.\nJe ne sais \u00e0 quelle occasion, mais je ne me sentis pas si satisfait de\ncoucher \u00e0 terre que les autres; et le canot se tenant \u00e0 l'ancre \u00e0\nenviron un jet de pierre de la rive, avec deux hommes pour le garder,\nj'ordonnai \u00e0 l'un d'eux de mettre pied \u00e0 terre; puis, ayant cueilli\nquelques branches d'arbres pour nous couvrir aussi dans la barque,\nj'\u00e9tendis la voile dans le fond, et passai la nuit \u00e0 bord sous l'abri de\nces rameaux.\n\u00c0 deux heures du matin environ, nous entend\u00eemes un de nos hommes faire\ngrand bruit sur le rivage, nous criant, au nom de Dieu, d'amener\nl'esquif et de venir \u00e0 leur secours, car ils allaient \u00eatre touts\nassassin\u00e9s. Au m\u00eame instant, j'entendis la d\u00e9tonation de cinq\nmousquets,--c'\u00e9tait le nombre des armes que se trouvaient avoir nos\ncompagnons,--et cela \u00e0 trois reprises. Les naturels de ce pays, \u00e0 ce\nqu'il para\u00eet, ne s'effraient pas aussi ais\u00e9ment des coups de feu que les\nSauvages d'Am\u00e9rique auxquels j'avais eu affaire.\nIgnorant la cause de ce tumulte, mais arrach\u00e9 subitement \u00e0 mon sommeil,\nje fis avancer l'esquif, et je r\u00e9solus, arm\u00e9s des trois fusils que nous\navions \u00e0 bord, de d\u00e9barquer et de secourir notre monde.\nNous aurions bient\u00f4t gagn\u00e9 le rivage; mais nos gens \u00e9taient en si grande\nh\u00e2te qu'arriv\u00e9s au bord de l'eau ils plong\u00e8rent pour atteindre vitement\nla barque: trois ou quatre cents hommes les poursuivaient. Eux n'\u00e9taient\nque neuf en tout; cinq seulement avaient des fusils: les autres, \u00e0 vrai\ndire, portaient bien des pistolets et des sabres; mais ils ne leur\navaient pas servi \u00e0 grand'chose.\nNous en recueill\u00eemes sept avec assez de peine, trois d'entre eux, \u00e9tant\ngri\u00e8vement bless\u00e9s. Le pire de tout, c'est que tandis que nous \u00e9tions\narr\u00eat\u00e9s pour les prendre \u00e0 bord, nous trouvions expos\u00e9s au m\u00eame danger\nqu'ils avaient essuy\u00e9 \u00e0 terre. Les naturels faisaient pleuvoir sur nous\nune telle gr\u00eale de fl\u00e8ches, que nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de barricader un des\nc\u00f4t\u00e9s de la barque avec des bancs et deux ou trois planches d\u00e9tach\u00e9es\nqu'\u00e0 notre grande satisfaction, par un pur hasard, ou plut\u00f4t\nprovidentiellement, nous trouv\u00e2mes dans l'esquif.\nToutefois, ils \u00e9taient, ce semble, tellement adroits tireurs que, s'il\ne\u00fbt fait jour et qu'ils eussent pu appercevoir la moindre partie de\nnotre corps, ils auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 s\u00fbrs de nous. \u00c0 la clart\u00e9 de la lune on\nles entrevoyait, et comme du rivage o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient arr\u00eat\u00e9s ils nous\nlan\u00e7aient des sagaies et des fl\u00e8ches, ayant recharg\u00e9 nos armes, nous\nleur envoy\u00e2mes une fusillade que nous juge\u00e2mes avoir fait merveille aux\ncris que jet\u00e8rent quelques-uns d'eux. N\u00e9anmoins, ils demeur\u00e8rent rang\u00e9s\nen bataille sur la gr\u00e8ve jusqu'\u00e0 la pointe du jour, sans doute, nous le\nsuppos\u00e2mes, pour \u00eatre \u00e0 m\u00eame de nous mieux ajuster.\nNous gard\u00e2mes aussi la m\u00eame position, ne sachant comment faire pour\nlever l'ancre et mettre notre voile au vent, parce qu'il nous e\u00fbt fallu\npour cela nous tenir debout dans le bateau, et qu'alors ils auraient \u00e9t\u00e9\naussi certains de nous frapper que nous le serions d'atteindre avec de\nla cendr\u00e9e un oiseau perch\u00e9 sur un arbre. Nous adress\u00e2mes des signaux de\nd\u00e9tresse au navire, et quoiqu'il f\u00fbt mouill\u00e9 \u00e0 une lieue, entendant\nnotre mousquetade, et, \u00e0 l'aide de longues-vues, d\u00e9couvrant dans quelle\nattitude nous \u00e9tions et que nous faisions feu sur le rivage, mon neveu\nnous comprit le reste. Levant l'ancre en toute h\u00e2te, il fit avancer le\nvaisseau aussi pr\u00e8s de terre que possible; puis, pour nous secourir,\nnous d\u00e9p\u00eacha une autre embarcation mont\u00e9e par dix hommes. Nous leur\ncri\u00e2mes de ne point trop s'approcher, en leur faisant conna\u00eetre notre\nsituation. Nonobstant, ils s'avanc\u00e8rent fort pr\u00e8s de nous: puis l'un\nd'eux prenant \u00e0 la main le bout d'une amarre, et gardant toujours notre\nesquif entre lui et l'ennemi, si bien qu'il ne pouvait parfaitement\nl'appercevoir, gagna notre bord \u00e0 la nage et y attacha l'amarre. Sur ce,\nnous fil\u00e2mes par le bout notre petit c\u00e2ble, et, abandonnant notre ancre,\nnous f\u00fbmes remorqu\u00e9s hors de la port\u00e9e des fl\u00e8ches. Nous, durant toute\ncette op\u00e9ration, nous demeur\u00e2mes cach\u00e9s derri\u00e8re la barricade que nous\navions faite.\nSit\u00f4t que nous n'offusqu\u00e2mes plus le navire, afin de pr\u00e9senter le flanc\naux ennemis, il prolongea la c\u00f4te et leur envoya une bord\u00e9e charg\u00e9e de\nmorceaux de fer et de plomb, de balles et autre mitraille, sans compter\nles boulets, laquelle fit parmi eux un terrible ravage.\nQuand nous f\u00fbmes rentr\u00e9s \u00e0 bord et hors de danger, nous recherch\u00e2mes\ntout \u00e0 loisir la cause de cette bagarre; et notre subr\u00e9cargue, qui\nsouvent avait visit\u00e9 ces parages, me mit sur la voie:--\u00abJe suis s\u00fbr,\ndit-il, que les habitants ne nous auraient point touch\u00e9s apr\u00e8s une tr\u00e8ve\nconclue si nous n'avions rien fait pour les y provoquer.\u00bb--Enfin il nous\nrevint qu'une vieille femme \u00e9tait venue pour nous vendre du lait et\nl'avait apport\u00e9 dans l'espace libre entre nos pieux, accompagn\u00e9e d'une\njeune fille qui nous apportait aussi des herbes et des racines. Tandis\nque la vieille,--\u00e9tait-ce ou non la m\u00e8re de la jeune personne, nous\nl'ignorions,--d\u00e9bitait son laitage, un de nos hommes avait voulu prendre\nquelque grossi\u00e8re privaut\u00e9 avec la jeune Malgache, de quoi la vieille\navait fait grand bruit. N\u00e9anmoins, le matelot n'avait pas voulu l\u00e2cher\nsa capture, et l'avait entra\u00een\u00e9e hors de la vue de la vieille sous les\narbres: il faisait presque nuit. La vieille femme s'\u00e9tait donc en all\u00e9e\nsans elle, et sans doute, on le suppose, ayant par ses clameurs ameut\u00e9\nle peuple, en trois ou quatre heures, toute cette grande arm\u00e9e s'\u00e9tait\nrassembl\u00e9e contre nous. Nous l'avions \u00e9chapp\u00e9 belle.\nUn des n\u00f4tres avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9 d'un coup de lance d\u00e8s le commencement de\nl'attaque, comme il sortait de la hutte que nous avions dress\u00e9e; les\nautres s'\u00e9taient sauv\u00e9s, touts, hormis le drille qui \u00e9tait la cause de\ntout le m\u00e9chef, et qui paya bien cher sa noire ma\u00eetresse: nous ne p\u00fbmes\nde quelque temps savoir ce qu'il \u00e9tait devenu. Nous demeur\u00e2mes encore\nsur la c\u00f4te pendant deux jours, bien que le vent donna, et nous lui\nf\u00eemes des signaux, et notre chaloupe c\u00f4toya et rec\u00f4toya le rivage\nl'espace de plusieurs lieues, mais en vain. Nous nous v\u00eemes donc dans la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de l'abandonner. Apr\u00e8s tout, si lui seul e\u00fbt souffert de sa\nfaute, ce n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 grand dommage.\nJe ne pus cependant me d\u00e9cider \u00e0 partir sans m'aventurer une fois encore\n\u00e0 terre, pour voir s'il ne serait pas possible d'apprendre quelque chose\nsur lui et les autres. Ce fut la troisi\u00e8me nuit apr\u00e8s l'action que j'eus\nun vif d\u00e9sir d'en venir \u00e0 conna\u00eetre, s'il \u00e9tait possible, par n'importe\nle moyen, quel d\u00e9g\u00e2t nous avions fait et quel jeu se jouait du c\u00f4t\u00e9 des\nIndiens. J'eus soin de me mettre en campagne durant l'obscurit\u00e9, de peur\nd'une nouvelle attaque; mais j'aurais d\u00fb aussi m'assurer que les hommes\nqui m'accompagnaient \u00e9taient bien sous mon commandement, avant de\nm'engager dans une entreprise si hasardeuse et si dangereuse, comme\ninconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment je fis.\nNous nous adjoign\u00eemes, le subr\u00e9cargue et moi, vingt compagnons des plus\nhardis, et nous d\u00e9barqu\u00e2mes deux heures avant minuit, au m\u00eame endroit o\u00f9\nles Indiens s'\u00e9taient rang\u00e9s en bataille l'autre soir. J'abordai l\u00e0\nparce que mon dessein, comme je l'ai dit, \u00e9tait surtout de voir s'ils\navaient lev\u00e9 le camp et s'ils n'avaient pas laiss\u00e9 derri\u00e8re eux quelques\ntraces du dommage que nous leur avions fait. Je pensais que, s'il nous\n\u00e9tait possible d'en surprendre un ou deux, nous pourrions peut-\u00eatre\nravoir notre homme en \u00e9change.\nNous m\u00eemes pied \u00e0 terre sans bruit, et nous divis\u00e2mes notre monde en\ndeux bandes: le bosseman en commandait une, et moi l'autre. Nous\nn'entend\u00eemes ni ne v\u00eemes personne bouger quand nous op\u00e9r\u00e2mes notre\ndescente; nous pouss\u00e2mes donc en avant vers le lieu du combat, gardant\nquelque distance entre nos deux bataillons. De prime-abord, nous\nn'apper\u00e7\u00fbmes rien: il faisait tr\u00e8s-noir; mais, peu apr\u00e8s, notre ma\u00eetre\nd'\u00e9quipage, qui conduisait l'avant-garde, broncha, et tomba sur un\ncadavre. L\u00e0-dessus touts firent halte, et, jugeant par cette\ncirconstance qu'ils se trouvaient \u00e0 la place m\u00eame o\u00f9 les Indiens avaient\npris position, ils attendirent mon arriv\u00e9e. Alors nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de\ndemeurer l\u00e0 jusqu'\u00e0 ce que, \u00e0 la lueur de la lune, qui devait monter \u00e0\nl'horizon avant une heure, nous pussions reconna\u00eetre la perte que nous\nleur avions fait essuyer. Nous compt\u00e2mes trente-deux corps rest\u00e9s sur la\nplace, dont deux n'\u00e9taient pas tout-\u00e0-fait morts. Les uns avaient un\nbras de moins, les autres une jambe, un autre la t\u00eate. Les bless\u00e9s, \u00e0 ce\nque nous suppos\u00e2mes, avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 enlev\u00e9s.\nQuand \u00e0 mon sens nous e\u00fbmes fait une compl\u00e8te d\u00e9couverte de tout ce que\nnous pouvions esp\u00e9rer conna\u00eetre, je me disposai \u00e0 retourner \u00e0 bord; mais\nle ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage et sa bande me firent savoir qu'ils \u00e9taient\nd\u00e9termin\u00e9s \u00e0 faire une visite \u00e0 la ville indienne o\u00f9 ces chiens, comme\nils les appelaient, faisaient leur demeure, et me pri\u00e8rent de venir avec\neux. S'ils, pouvaient y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer, comme ils se l'imaginaient, ils ne\ndoutaient pas, disaient-ils, de faire un riche butin, et peut-\u00eatre d'y\nretrouver Thomas Jeffrys. C'\u00e9tait le nom de l'homme que nous avions\nperdu.\nS'ils m'avaient envoy\u00e9 demander la permission d'y aller, je sais quelle\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ma r\u00e9ponse: je leur eus intim\u00e9 l'ordre sur-le-champ de retourner\n\u00e0 bord; car ce n'\u00e9tait point \u00e0 nous \u00e0 courir \u00e0 de pareils hasards, nous\nqui avions un navire et son chargement sous notre responsabilit\u00e9, et \u00e0\naccomplir un voyage qui reposait totalement sur la vie de l'\u00e9quipage;\nmais comme ils me firent dire qu'ils \u00e9taient r\u00e9solus \u00e0 partir, et\nseulement demand\u00e8rent \u00e0 moi et \u00e0 mon escouade de les accompagner, je\nrefusai net, et je me levai--car j'\u00e9tais assis \u00e0 terre--pour regagner\nl'embarcation. Un ou deux de mes hommes se mirent alors \u00e0 m'importuner\npour que je prisse part \u00e0 l'exp\u00e9dition, et comme je m'y refusais\ntoujours positivement, ils commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 murmurer et \u00e0 dire qu'ils\nn'\u00e9taient point sous mes ordres et qu'ils voulaient marcher.--\u00abViens,\nJack, dit l'un d'eux; veux-tu venir avec moi? sinon j'irai tout\nseul.\u00bb--Jack r\u00e9pondit qu'il voulait bien, un autre le suivit, puis un\nautre.\nTHOMAS JEFFRYS PENDU\nBref, touts me laiss\u00e8rent, except\u00e9 un auquel, non sans beaucoup de\ndifficult\u00e9s, je persuadai de rester. Ainsi le subr\u00e9cargue et moi, et cet\nhomme, nous regagn\u00e2mes la chaloupe o\u00f9, leur d\u00eemes-nous, nous allions les\nattendre et veiller pour recueillir ceux d'entre eux qui pourraient s'en\ntirer;--\u00abCar, leur r\u00e9p\u00e9tai-je, c'est une mauvaise chose que vous allez\nfaire, et je redoute que la plupart de vous ne subissent le sort de\nThomas Jeffrys.\u00bb\nIls me r\u00e9pondirent, en vrais marins, qu'ils gageaient d'en revenir,\nqu'ils se tiendraient sur leur garde, _et c\u00e6tera_; et ils partirent. Je\nles conjurai de prendre en consid\u00e9ration le navire et la travers\u00e9e; je\nleur repr\u00e9sentai que leur vie ne leur appartenait pas, qu'elle \u00e9tait en\nquelque sorte incorpor\u00e9e au voyage; que s'il leur m\u00e9sarrivait le\nvaisseau serait perdu faute de leur assistance et qu'ils seraient sans\nexcuses devant Dieu et devant les hommes. Je leur dis bien des choses\nencore sur cet article, mais c'\u00e9tait comme si j'eusse parl\u00e9 au grand m\u00e2t\ndu navire. Cette incursion leur avait tourn\u00e9 la t\u00eate; seulement ils me\ndonn\u00e8rent de bonnes paroles, me pri\u00e8rent de ne pas me f\u00e2cher,\nm'assur\u00e8rent qu'ils seraient prudents, et que, sans aucun doute, ils\nseraient de retour dans une heure au plus tard, car le village indien,\ndisaient-ils, n'\u00e9tait pas \u00e0 plus d'un demi-mille au-del\u00e0. Ils n'en\nmarch\u00e8rent pas moins deux milles et plus, avant d'y arriver.\nIls partirent donc, comme on l'a vu plus haut, et quoique ce f\u00fbt une\nentreprise d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9e et telle que des fous seuls s'y pouvaient jeter,\ntoutefois, c'est justice \u00e0 leur rendre, ils s'y prirent aussi prudemment\nque hardiment. Ils \u00e9taient galamment arm\u00e9s, tout de bon, car chaque\nhomme avait un fusil ou un mousquet, une bayonnette et un pistolet.\nQuelques-uns portaient de gros poignards, d'autres des coutelas, et le\nma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage ainsi que deux autres brandissaient des haches\nd'armes. Outre tout cela, ils \u00e9taient munis de treize grenades. Jamais\nau monde compagnons plus t\u00e9m\u00e9raires et mieux pourvus ne partirent pour\nun mauvais coup.\nEn partant, leur principal dessein \u00e9tait le pillage: ils se promettaient\nbeaucoup de trouver de l'or; mais une circonstance qu'aucun d'eux\nn'avait pr\u00e9vue, les remplit du feu de la vengeance, et fit d'eux touts\ndes d\u00e9mons. Quand ils arriv\u00e8rent aux quelques maisons indiennes qu'ils\navaient prises pour la ville, et qui n'\u00e9taient pas \u00e9loign\u00e9es de plus\nd'un demi-mille, grand fut leur d\u00e9sappointement, car il y avait l\u00e0 tout\nau plus douze ou treize cases, et o\u00f9 \u00e9tait la ville, et quelle \u00e9tait son\nimportance, ils ne le savaient. Ils se consult\u00e8rent donc sur ce qu'ils\ndevaient faire, et demeur\u00e8rent quelque temps sans pouvoir rien r\u00e9soudre:\ns'ils tombaient sur ces habitants, il fallait leur couper la gorge \u00e0\ntouts; pourtant il y avait dix \u00e0 parier contre un que quelqu'un d'entre\neux s'\u00e9chapperait \u00e0 la faveur de la nuit, bien que la lune f\u00fbt lev\u00e9e,\net, si un seul s'\u00e9chappait, qu'il s'enfuirait pour donner l'alerte \u00e0\ntoute la ville, de sorte qu'ils se verraient une arm\u00e9e enti\u00e8re sur les\nbras. D'autre part s'ils passaient outre et laissaient ces habitants en\npaix,--car ils \u00e9taient touts plong\u00e9s dans le sommeil,--ils ne savaient\npar quel chemin chercher la ville.\nCependant ce dernier cas leur semblant le meilleur, ils se d\u00e9termin\u00e8rent\n\u00e0 laisser intactes ces habitations, et \u00e0 se mettre en qu\u00eate de la ville\ncomme ils pourraient. Apr\u00e8s avoir fait un bout de chemin ils trouv\u00e8rent\nune vache attach\u00e9e \u00e0 un arbre, et sur-le-champ il leur vint \u00e0 l'id\u00e9e\nqu'elle pourrait leur \u00eatre un bon guide:--\u00abS\u00fbrement, se disaient-ils,\ncette vache appartient au village que nous cherchons ou au hameau que\nnous laissons, et en la d\u00e9liant nous verrons de quel c\u00f4t\u00e9 elle ira: si\nelle retourne en arri\u00e8re, tant pis; mais si elle marche en avant, nous\nn'aurons qu'\u00e0 la suivre.\u00bb--Ils coup\u00e8rent donc la corde faite de glayeuls\ntortill\u00e9s, et la vache partit devant. Bref, cette vache les conduisit\ndirectement au village, qui, d'apr\u00e8s leur rapport, se composait de plus\nde deux cents maisons ou cabanes. Dans quelques-unes plusieurs familles\nvivaient ensemble.\nL\u00e0 r\u00e9gnait partout le silence et cette s\u00e9curit\u00e9 profonde que pouvait\ngo\u00fbter dans le sommeil une contr\u00e9e qui n'avait jamais vu pareil ennemi.\nPour aviser \u00e0 ce qu'ils devaient faire, ils tinrent de nouveau conseil,\net, bref, ils se d\u00e9termin\u00e8rent \u00e0 se diviser sur trois bandes et \u00e0 mettre\nle feu \u00e0 trois maisons sur trois diff\u00e9rents points du village; puis \u00e0\nmesure que les habitants sortiraient de s'en saisir et de les garrotter.\nSi quelqu'un r\u00e9sistait il n'est pas besoin de demander ce qu'ils\npensaient lui faire. Enfin ils devaient fouiller le reste des maisons et\nse livrer au pillage. Toutefois il \u00e9tait convenu que sans bruit on\ntraverserait d'abord le village pour reconna\u00eetre son \u00e9tendue et voir si\nl'on pouvait ou non tenter l'aventure.\nLa ronde faite, ils se r\u00e9solurent \u00e0 hasarder le coup en d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9s; mais\ntandis qu'ils s'excitaient l'un l'autre \u00e0 la besogne, trois d'entre eux,\nqui \u00e9taient un peu plus en avant, se mirent \u00e0 appeler, disant qu'ils\navaient trouv\u00e9 Thomas Jeffrys. Touts accoururent, et ce n'\u00e9tait que trop\nvrai, car l\u00e0 ils trouv\u00e8rent le pauvre gar\u00e7on pendu tout nu par un bras,\net la gorge coup\u00e9e. Pr\u00e8s de l'arbre patibulaire il y avait une maison o\u00f9\nils entrevirent seize ou dix-sept des principaux Indiens qui\npr\u00e9c\u00e9demment avaient pris part au combat contre nous, et dont deux ou\ntrois avaient re\u00e7u des coups de feu. Nos hommes s'apper\u00e7urent bien que\nles gens de cette demeure \u00e9taient \u00e9veill\u00e9s et se parlaient l'un l'autre,\nmais ils ne purent savoir quel \u00e9tait leur nombre.\nLa vue de leur pauvre camarade massacr\u00e9 les transporta tellement de\nrage, qu'ils jur\u00e8rent touts de se venger et que pas un Indien qui\ntomberait sous leurs mains n'aurait quartier. Ils se mirent \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre\nsur-le-champ, toutefois moins follement qu'on e\u00fbt pu l'attendre de leur\nfureur. Leur premier mouvement fut de se mettre en qu\u00eate de choses\nais\u00e9ment inflammables; mais apr\u00e8s un instant de recherche, ils\ns'apper\u00e7urent qu'ils n'en avaient que faire, car la plupart des maisons\n\u00e9taient basses et couvertes de glayeuls et de joncs dont la contr\u00e9e est\npleine. Ils firent donc alors des artifices en humectant un peu de\npoudre dans la paume de leur main; et au bout d'un quart d'heure le\nvillage br\u00fblait en quatre ou cinq endroits, et particuli\u00e8rement cette\nhabitation o\u00f9 les Indiens ne s'\u00e9taient pas couch\u00e9s. Aussit\u00f4t que\nl'incendie \u00e9clata, ces pauvres mis\u00e9rables commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 s'\u00e9lancer\ndehors pour sauver leur vie; mais ils trouvaient leur sort dans cette\ntentative, l\u00e0, au seuil de la porte o\u00f9 ils \u00e9taient repouss\u00e9s, le ma\u00eetre\nd'\u00e9quipage lui-m\u00eame en pourfendit un ou deux avec sa hache d'arme. Comme\nla case \u00e9tait grande et remplie d'Indiens, le dr\u00f4le ne se soucia pas d'y\nentrer, mais il demanda et jeta au milieu d'eux une grenade qui d'abord\nles effraya; puis quand elle \u00e9clata elle fit un tel ravage parmi eux\nqu'ils pouss\u00e8rent des hurlements horribles.\nBref, la plupart des infortun\u00e9s qui se trouvaient dans l'entr\u00e9e de la\nhutte furent tu\u00e9s ou bless\u00e9s par cette grenade, hormis deux ou trois qui\nse pr\u00e9cipit\u00e8rent \u00e0 la porte que gardaient le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage et deux\nautres compagnons, avec la bayonnette au bout du fusil, pour d\u00e9p\u00eacher\ntouts ceux qui prendraient ce chemin. Il y avait un autre logement dans\nla maison o\u00f9 le Prince ou Roi, n'importe, et quelques autres, se\ntrouvaient: l\u00e0, on les retint jusqu'\u00e0 ce que l'habitation, qui pour lors\n\u00e9tait tout en flamme, croula sur eux. Ils furent \u00e9touff\u00e9s ou br\u00fbl\u00e9s\ntouts ensemble.\nTout ceci durant, nos gens n'avaient pas l\u00e2ch\u00e9 un coup de fusil, de peur\nd'\u00e9veiller les Indiens avant que de pouvoir s'en rendre ma\u00eetre; mais le\nfeu ne tarda pas \u00e0 les arracher au sommeil, et mes dr\u00f4les cherch\u00e8rent\nalors \u00e0 se tenir ensemble bien en corps; car l'incendie devenait si\nviolent, toutes les maisons \u00e9tant faites de mati\u00e8res l\u00e9g\u00e8res et\ncombustibles, qu'ils pouvaient \u00e0 peine passer au milieu des rues; et\nleur affaire \u00e9tait pourtant de suivre le feu pour consommer leur\nextermination. Au fur et \u00e0 mesure que l'embrasement chassait les\nhabitants de ces demeures br\u00fblantes, ou que l'effroi les arrachait de\ncelles encore pr\u00e9serv\u00e9es, nos lurons, qui les attendaient au seuil de la\nporte, les assommaient en s'appelant et en se criant r\u00e9ciproquement de\nse souvenir de Thomas Jeffrys.\nTandis que ceci se passait, je dois confesser que j'\u00e9tais fort inquiet,\nsurtout quand je vis les flammes du village embras\u00e9, qui, parce qu'il\n\u00e9tait nuit, me semblaient tout pr\u00e8s de moi.\n\u00c0 ce spectacle, mon neveu, le capitaine, que ses hommes r\u00e9veill\u00e8rent\naussi, ne fut gu\u00e8re plus tranquille, ne sachant ce dont il s'agissait et\ndans quel danger j'\u00e9tais, surtout quand il entendit les coups de fusil:\ncar nos aventuriers commen\u00e7aient alors \u00e0 faire usage de leurs armes \u00e0\nfeu. Mille pens\u00e9es sur mon sort et celui du subr\u00e9cargue et sur nous\ntouts oppressaient son \u00e2me; et enfin, quoiqu'il lui rest\u00e2t peu de monde\ndisponible, ignorant dans quel mauvais cas nous pouvions \u00eatre, il prit\nl'autre embarcation et vint me trouver \u00e0 terre, \u00e0 la t\u00eate de treize\nhommes.\nGrande fut sa surprise de nous voir, le subr\u00e9cargue et moi, dans la\nchaloupe, seulement avec deux matelots, dont l'un y avait \u00e9t\u00e9 laiss\u00e9\npour sa garde; et bien qu'enchant\u00e9 de nous retrouver en bon point, comme\nnous il s\u00e9chait d'impatience de conna\u00eetre ce qui se passait, car le\nbruit continuait et la flamme croissait. J'avoue qu'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 bien\nimpossible \u00e0 tout homme au monde de r\u00e9primer sa curiosit\u00e9 de savoir ce\nqu'il \u00e9tait advenu, ou son inqui\u00e9tude sur le sort des absents. Bref, le\ncapitaine me dit qu'il voulait aller au secours de ses hommes, arrive\nqui plante. Je lui repr\u00e9sentai, comme je l'avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait \u00e0 nos\naventuriers, la s\u00fbret\u00e9 du navire, les dangers du voyage, l'int\u00e9r\u00eat des\narmateurs et des n\u00e9gociants, _et c\u00e6tera_, et lui d\u00e9clarai que je voulais\npartir, moi et deux hommes seulement, pour voir si nous pourrions, \u00e0\ndistance, apprendre quelque chose de l'\u00e9v\u00e9nement, et revenir le lui\ndire.\nJ'eus autant de succ\u00e8s aupr\u00e8s de mon neveu que j'en avais eu\npr\u00e9c\u00e9demment aupr\u00e8s des autres:--\u00abNon, non; j'irai, r\u00e9pondit-il;\nseulement je regrette d'avoir laiss\u00e9 plus de dix hommes \u00e0 bord, car je\nne puis penser \u00e0 laisser p\u00e9rir ces braves faute de secours: j'aimerais\nmieux perdre le navire, le voyage, et ma vie et tout!...\u00bb--Il partit\ndonc.\nAlors il ne me fut pas plus possible de rester en arri\u00e8re qu'il m'avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 possible de les dissuader de partir. Pour couper court, le capitaine\nordonna \u00e0 deux matelots de retourner au navire avec la pinace, laissant\nla chaloupe \u00e0 l'ancre, et de ramener encore douze hommes. Une fois\narriv\u00e9s, six devaient garder les deux embarcations et les six autres\nvenir nous rejoindre. Ainsi seize hommes seulement devaient demeurer \u00e0\nbord; car l'\u00e9quipage entier ne se composait que de soixante-cinq hommes,\ndont deux avaient p\u00e9ri dans la premi\u00e8re \u00e9chauffour\u00e9e.\nNous nous m\u00eemes en marche; \u00e0 peine, comme on peut le croire,\nsentions-nous la terre que nous foulions, et guid\u00e9s par la flamme, \u00e0\ntravers champs, nous all\u00e2mes droit au lieu de l'incendie. Si le bruit\ndes fusillades nous avait surpris d'abord, les cris des pauvres Indiens\nnous remu\u00e8rent bien autrement et nous remplirent d'horreur. Je le\nconfesse, je n'avais jamais assist\u00e9 au sac d'une cit\u00e9 ni \u00e0 la prise\nd'assaut d'une ville. J'avais bien entendu dire qu'Olivier Cromwell\napr\u00e8s avoir pris Drogheda en Irlande, y avait fait massacrer hommes,\nfemmes et enfants. J'avais bien ou\u00ef raconter que le comte de Tilly au\nsaccagement de la ville de Magdebourg avait fait \u00e9gorger vingt-deux\nmille personnes de tout sexe; mais jusqu'alors je ne m'\u00e9tais jamais fait\nune id\u00e9e de la chose m\u00eame, et je ne saurais ni la d\u00e9crire, ni rendre\nl'horreur qui s'empara de nos esprits.\nN\u00e9anmoins nous avancions toujours et enfin nous atteign\u00eemes le village,\nsans pouvoir toutefois p\u00e9n\u00e9trer dans les rues \u00e0 cause du feu. Le premier\nobjet qui s'offrit \u00e0 nos regards, ce fut les ruines d'une maison ou\nd'une hutte, ou plut\u00f4t ses cendres, car elle \u00e9tait consum\u00e9e. Tout\naupr\u00e8s, \u00e9clair\u00e9s en plein par l'incendie, gisaient quatre hommes et\ntrois femmes tu\u00e9s; et nous e\u00fbmes lieu de croire qu'un ou deux autres\ncadavres \u00e9taient ensevelis parmi les d\u00e9combres en feu.\nSACCAGEMENT DU VILLAGE INDIEN\nEn un mot, nous trouv\u00e2mes partout les traces d'une rage si barbare, et\nd'une fureur si au-del\u00e0 de tout ce qui est humain, que nous ne p\u00fbmes\ncroire que nos gens fussent coupables de telles atrocit\u00e9s, ou s'ils en\n\u00e9taient les auteurs, nous pens\u00e2mes que touts avaient m\u00e9rit\u00e9 la mort la\nplus cruelle. Mais ce n'\u00e9tait pas tout: nous v\u00eemes l'incendie s'\u00e9tendre,\net comme les cris croissaient \u00e0 mesure que l'incendie croissait, nous\ntomb\u00e2mes dans la derni\u00e8re consternation. Nous nous avan\u00e7\u00e2mes un peu, et\nnous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes, \u00e0 notre grand \u00e9tonnement, trois femmes nues, poussant\nd'horribles cris, et fuyant comme si elles avaient des ailes, puis,\nderri\u00e8re elles, dans la m\u00eame \u00e9pouvante et la m\u00eame terreur, seize ou dix\nsept naturels poursuivis--je ne saurais les mieux nommer--par trois de\nnos bouchers anglais, qui, ne pouvant les atteindre leur envoy\u00e8rent une\nd\u00e9charge: un pauvre diable, frapp\u00e9 d'une balle, fut renvers\u00e9 sous nos\nyeux. Quand ces indiens nous virent, croyant que nous \u00e9tions des ennemis\net que nous voulions les \u00e9gorger, comme ceux qui leur donnaient la\nchasse ils jet\u00e8rent un cri horrible, surtout les femmes, et deux d'entre\neux tomb\u00e8rent par terre comme morts d'effroi.\n\u00c0 ce spectacle, j'eus le c\u0153ur navr\u00e9, mon sang se gla\u00e7a dans mes veines,\net je crois que si les trois matelots anglais qui les poursuivaient se\nfussent approch\u00e9s, je les aurais fait tuer par notre monde. Nous\nessay\u00e2mes de faire conna\u00eetre \u00e0 ces pauvres fuyards que nous ne voulions\npoint leur faire de mal, et aussit\u00f4t ils accoururent et se jet\u00e8rent \u00e0\nnos genoux, levant les mains, et se lamentant piteusement pour que nous\nleur sauvions la vie. Leur ayant donn\u00e9 \u00e0 entendre que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 notre\nintention, touts vinrent p\u00eale-m\u00eale derri\u00e8re nous se ranger sous notre\nprotection. Je laissai mes hommes assembl\u00e9s, et je leur recommandai de\nne frapper personne, mais, s'il \u00e9tait possible, de se saisir de\nquelqu'un de nos gens pour voir de quel d\u00e9mon ils \u00e9taient poss\u00e9d\u00e9s, ce\nqu'ils esp\u00e9raient faire, et, bref, de leur enjoindre de se retirer, en\nleur assurant que, s'ils demeuraient jusqu'au jour, ils auraient une\ncentaine de mille hommes \u00e0 leurs trousses. Je les laissai, dis-je, et\nprenant seulement avec moi deux de nos marins, je m'en allai parmi les\nfuyards. L\u00e0, quel triste spectacle m'attendait! Quelques-uns s'\u00e9taient\nhorriblement r\u00f4ti les pieds en passant et courant \u00e0 travers le feu;\nd'autres avaient les mains br\u00fbl\u00e9es; une des femmes \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9e dans les\nflammes et avait \u00e9t\u00e9 presque mortellement grill\u00e9e avant de pouvoir s'en\narracher; deux ou trois hommes avaient eu, dans leur fuite, le dos et\nles cuisses taillad\u00e9s par nos gens; un autre enfin avait re\u00e7u une balle\ndans le corps, et mourut tandis que j'\u00e9tais l\u00e0.\nJ'aurais bien d\u00e9sir\u00e9 conna\u00eetre quelle avait \u00e9t\u00e9 la cause de tout ceci,\nmais je ne pus comprendre un mot de ce qu'ils me dirent; \u00e0 leurs signes,\ntoutefois, je m'apper\u00e7us qu'ils n'en savaient rien eux-m\u00eames. Cet\nabominable attentat me transper\u00e7a tellement le c\u0153ur que, ne pouvant\ntenir l\u00e0 plus long-temps, je retournai vers nos compagnons. Je leur\nfaisais part de ma r\u00e9solution et leur commandais de me suivre, quand,\ntout-\u00e0-coup, s'avanc\u00e8rent quatre de nos matamores avec le ma\u00eetre\nd'\u00e9quipage \u00e0 leur t\u00eate, courant, tout couverts de sang et de poussi\u00e8re,\nsur des monceaux de corps qu'ils avaient tu\u00e9s, comme s'ils cherchaient\nencore du monde \u00e0 massacrer. Nos hommes les appel\u00e8rent de toutes leurs\nforces; un d'eux, non sans beaucoup de peine, parvint \u00e0 s'en faire\nentendre; ils reconnurent qui nous \u00e9tions, et s'approch\u00e8rent de nous.\nSit\u00f4t que le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage nous vit, il poussa comme un cri de\ntriomphe, pensant qu'il lui arrivait du renfort; et sans plus\n\u00e9couter:--\u00abCapitaine, s'\u00e9cria-t-il, noble capitaine, que je suis aise\nque vous soyez venu! nous n'avons pas encore \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 fini. Les plats\ngueux! les chiens d'Enfer! je veux en tuer autant que le pauvre Tom a de\ncheveux sur la t\u00eate. Nous avons jur\u00e9 de n'en \u00e9pargner aucun; nous\nvoulons extirper cette race de la terre!\u00bb--Et il se reprit \u00e0 courir,\npantelant, hors d'haleine, sans nous donner le temps de lui dire un mot.\nEnfin, \u00e9levant la voix pour lui imposer un peu silence:--\u00abChien\nsanguinaire! lui criai-je, qu'allez-vous faire? Je vous d\u00e9fends de\ntoucher \u00e0 une seule de ces cr\u00e9atures, sous peine de la vie. Je vous\nordonne, sur votre t\u00eate, de mettre fin \u00e0 cette tuerie, et de rester ici,\nsinon vous \u00eates mort.\u00bb\n--\u00abTudieu! Sir, dit-il, savez-vous ce que vous faites et ce qu'ils ont\nfait? Si vous voulez savoir la raison de ce que nous avons fait, nous,\nvenez ici.\u00bb--Et sur ce, il me montra le pauvre Tom pendu \u00e0 un arbre, et\nla gorge coup\u00e9e.\nJ'avoue qu'\u00e0 cet aspect je fus irrit\u00e9 moi-m\u00eame, et qu'en tout autre\noccasion j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 fort exasp\u00e9r\u00e9; mais je pensai que d\u00e9j\u00e0 ils\nn'avaient port\u00e9 que trop loin leur rage et je me rappelai les paroles de\nJacob \u00e0 ses fils Sim\u00e9on et L\u00e9vi:--\u00abMaudite soit leur col\u00e8re, car elle a\n\u00e9t\u00e9 f\u00e9roce, et leur vengeance, car elle a \u00e9t\u00e9 cruelle.\u00bb--Or, une\nnouvelle besogne me tomba alors sur les bras, car lorsque les marins qui\nme suivaient eurent jet\u00e9 les yeux sur ce triste spectacle, ainsi que\nmoi, j'eus autant de peine \u00e0 les retenir que j'en avais eu avec les\nautres. Bien plus, mon neveu le capitaine se rangea de leur c\u00f4t\u00e9, et me\ndit, de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 ce qu'ils l'entendissent, qu'ils redoutaient seulement\nque nos hommes ne fussent \u00e9cras\u00e9s par le nombre; mais quant aux\nhabitants, qu'ils m\u00e9ritaient touts la mort, car touts avaient tremp\u00e9\ndans le meurtre du pauvre matelot et devaient \u00eatre trait\u00e9s comme des\nassassins. \u00c0 ces mots, huit de mes hommes, avec le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage et\nsa bande, s'enfuirent pour achever leur sanglant ouvrage. Et moi,\npuisqu'il \u00e9tait tout-\u00e0-fait hors de mon pouvoir de les retenir, je me\nretirai morne et pensif: je ne pouvais supporter la vue encore moins les\ncris et les g\u00e9missements des pauvres mis\u00e9rables qui tombaient entre\nleurs mains.\nPersonne ne me suivit, hors le subr\u00e9cargue et deux hommes; et avec eux\nseuls je retournai vers nos embarcations. C'\u00e9tait une grande folie \u00e0\nmoi, je l'avoue, de m'en aller ainsi; car il commen\u00e7ait \u00e0 faire jour et\nl'alarme s'\u00e9tait r\u00e9pandue dans le pays. Environ trente ou quarante\nhommes arm\u00e9s de lances et d'arcs campaient \u00e0 ce petit hameau de douze ou\ntreize cabanes dont il a \u00e9t\u00e9 question d\u00e9j\u00e0; mais par bonheur, j'\u00e9vitai\ncette place et je gagnai directement la c\u00f4te Quand j'arrivai au rivage\nil faisait grand jour: je pris imm\u00e9diatement la pinace et je me rendis \u00e0\nbord, puis je la renvoyai pour secourir nos hommes le cas advenant.\nJe remarquai, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s vers le temps o\u00f9 j'accostai le navire, que le\nfeu \u00e9tait presque \u00e9teint et le bruit appais\u00e9; mais environ une\ndemi-heure apr\u00e8s que j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 bord j'entendis une salve de mousqueterie\net je vis une grande fum\u00e9e C'\u00e9tait, comme je l'appris plus lard, nos\nhommes qui, chemin faisant, assaillaient les quarante Indiens post\u00e9s au\npetit hameau. Ils en tu\u00e8rent seize ou dix-sept et br\u00fbl\u00e8rent toutes les\nmaisons, mais ils ne touch\u00e8rent point aux femmes ni aux enfants.\nAu moment o\u00f9 la pinace regagnait le rivage nos aventuriers commenc\u00e8rent\n\u00e0 repara\u00eetre: ils arrivaient petit \u00e0 petit, non plus en deux corps et en\nordre comme ils \u00e9taient partis, mais p\u00eale-m\u00eale, mais \u00e0 la d\u00e9bandade, de\ntelle fa\u00e7on qu'une poign\u00e9e d'hommes r\u00e9solus auraient pu leur couper \u00e0\ntouts la retraite.\nMais ils avaient jet\u00e9 l'\u00e9pouvante dans tout le pays. Les naturels\n\u00e9taient si constern\u00e9s, si atterr\u00e9s qu'une centaine d'entre eux, je\ncrois, auraient fui seulement \u00e0 l'aspect de cinq des n\u00f4tres. Dans toute\ncette terrible action il n'y eut pas un homme qui f\u00eet une belle d\u00e9fense.\nSurpris tout \u00e0 la fois par l'incendie et l'attaque soudaine de nos gens\nau milieu de l'obscurit\u00e9, ils \u00e9taient si \u00e9perdus qu'ils ne savaient que\ndevenir. S'ils fuyaient d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 ils rencontraient un parti, s'ils\nreculaient un autre, partout la mort. Quant \u00e0 nos marins, pas un\nn'attrapa la moindre blessure, hors un homme qui se foula le pied et un\nautre qui eut une main assez gri\u00e8vement br\u00fbl\u00e9e.\nJ'\u00e9tais fort irrit\u00e9 contre mon neveu le capitaine, et au fait\nint\u00e9rieurement, contre touts les hommes du bord, mais surtout contre\nlui, non-seulement parce qu'il avait forfait \u00e0 son devoir, comme\ncommandant du navire, responsable du voyage, mais encore parce qu'il\navait plut\u00f4t attis\u00e9 qu'amorti la rage de son \u00e9quipage dans cette\nsanguinaire et cruelle entreprise. Mon neveu me r\u00e9pondit\ntr\u00e8s-respectueusement, et me dit qu'\u00e0 la vue du cadavre du pauvre\nmatelot, massacr\u00e9 d'une fa\u00e7on si f\u00e9roce et si barbare, il n'avait pas\n\u00e9t\u00e9 ma\u00eetre de lui-m\u00eame et n'avait pu ma\u00eetriser sa col\u00e8re. Il avoua qu'il\nn'aurait pas d\u00fb agir ainsi comme capitaine du navire, mais comme il\n\u00e9tait homme, que la nature l'avait remu\u00e9 et qu'il n'avait pu pr\u00e9valoir\nsur elle. Quant aux autres ils ne m'\u00e9taient soumis aucunement, et ils ne\nle savaient que trop: aussi firent-ils peu de compte de mon bl\u00e2me.\nLe lendemain nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 la voile, nous n'appr\u00eemes donc rien de plus.\nNos hommes n'\u00e9taient pas d'accord sur le nombre des gens qu'ils avaient\ntu\u00e9s: les uns disaient une chose, les autres une autre; mais selon le\nplus admissible de touts leurs r\u00e9cits, ils avaient bien exp\u00e9di\u00e9 environ\ncent cinquante personnes, hommes, femmes et enfants, et n'avaient pas\nlaiss\u00e9 une habitation debout dans le village.\nQuant au pauvre Thomas Jeffrys, comme il \u00e9tait bien mort, car on lui\navait coup\u00e9 la gorge si profond\u00e9ment que sa t\u00eate \u00e9tait presque d\u00e9coll\u00e9e,\nce n'e\u00fbt pas \u00e9t\u00e9 la peine de l'emporter. Ils le laiss\u00e8rent donc o\u00f9 ils\nl'avaient trouv\u00e9, seulement ils le descendirent de l'arbre o\u00f9 il \u00e9tait\npendu par un bras.\nQuelque juste que sembl\u00e2t cette action \u00e0 nos marins, je n'en demeurai\npas moins l\u00e0-dessus en opposition ouverte avec eux, et toujours depuis\nje leur disais que Dieu maudirait notre voyage; car je ne voyais dans le\nsang qu'ils avaient fait couler durant cette nuit qu'un meurtre qui\npesait sur eux. Il est vrai que les Indiens avaient tu\u00e9 Thomas Jeffrys;\nmais Thomas Jeffrys avait \u00e9t\u00e9 l'agresseur, il avait rompu la tr\u00eave, et\nil avait viol\u00e9 ou d\u00e9bauch\u00e9 une de leurs jeunes filles qui \u00e9tait venue \u00e0\nnotre camp innocemment et sur la foi des trait\u00e9s.\n\u00c0 bord, le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage d\u00e9fendit sa cause par la suite. Il disait\nqu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 nous semblions avoir rompu la tr\u00eave, mais qu'il n'en\n\u00e9tait rien; que la guerre avait \u00e9t\u00e9 allum\u00e9e la nuit auparavant par les\nnaturels eux-m\u00eames, qui avaient tir\u00e9 sur nous et avaient tu\u00e9 un de nos\nmarins sans aucune provocation; que puisque nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9 en droit de\nles combattre, nous avions bien pu aussi \u00eatre en droit de nous faire\njustice d'une fa\u00e7on extraordinaire; que ce n'\u00e9tait pas une raison parce\nque le pauvre Tom avait pris quelques libert\u00e9s avec une jeune Malgache,\npour l'assassiner et d'une mani\u00e8re si atroce; enfin, qu'ils n'avaient\nrien fait que de juste, et qui, selon les lois de Dieu, ne f\u00fbt \u00e0 faire\naux meurtriers.\nOn va penser sans doute qu'apr\u00e8s cet \u00e9v\u00e8nement nous nous donn\u00e2mes de\ngarde de nous aventurer \u00e0 terre parmi les payens et les barbares mais\npoint du tout, les hommes ne deviennent sages qu'\u00e0 leurs propres d\u00e9pens,\net toujours l'exp\u00e9rience semble leur \u00eatre d'autant plus profitable\nqu'elle est plus ch\u00e8rement achet\u00e9e.\nNous \u00e9tions alors destin\u00e9s pour le golfe Persique et de l\u00e0 pour la case\nde Coromandel, en touchant seulement \u00e0 Surate; mais le principal dessein\nde notre subr\u00e9cargue l'appelait dans la baie du Bengale, d'o\u00f9, s'il\nmanquait l'affaire pour laquelle il avait mission, il devait aller \u00e0 la\nChine, et revenir \u00e0 la c\u00f4te en s'en retournant.\nLe premier d\u00e9sastre qui fondit sur nous ce fut dans le golfe Persique,\no\u00f9 s'\u00e9tant aventur\u00e9s \u00e0 terre sur la c\u00f4te Arabique du golfe, cinq de nos\nhommes furent environn\u00e9s par les Arabes et touts tu\u00e9s ou emmen\u00e9s en\nesclavage: le reste des matelots montant l'embarcation n'avait pas \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0\nm\u00eame de les d\u00e9livrer et n'avait eu que le temps de regagner la chaloupe.\nMUTINERIE\nJe plantai alors au nez de nos gens la juste r\u00e9tribution du Ciel en ce\ncas; mais le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage me r\u00e9pondit avec chaleur que j'allais\ntrop loin dans mes censures que je ne saurais appuyer d'aucun passage\ndes \u00c9critures, et il s'en r\u00e9f\u00e9ra au chapitre XIII de saint Luc, verset\n4, o\u00f9 notre Sauveur donne \u00e0 entendre que ceux sur lesquels la Tour de\nSilo\u00e9 tomba, n'\u00e9taient pas plus coupables que les autres Galil\u00e9ens. Mais\nce qui me r\u00e9duisit tout de bon au silence en cette occasion, c'est que\npas un des cinq hommes que nous venions de perdre n'\u00e9tait du nombre de\nceux descendus \u00e0 terre lors du massacre de Madagascar,--ainsi toujours\nl'appelai-je, quoique l'\u00e9quipage ne p\u00fbt supporter qu'impatiemment ce mot\nde massacre. Cette derni\u00e8re circonstance, comme je l'ai dit, me ferma\nr\u00e9ellement la bouche pour le moment.\nMes sempiternels sermons \u00e0 ce sujet eurent des cons\u00e9quences pires que je\nne m'y attendais, et le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le chef de\nl'entreprise, un beau jour vint \u00e0 moi hardiment et me dit qu'il trouvait\nque je remettais bien souvent cette affaire sur le tapis, que je faisais\nd'injustes r\u00e9flexions l\u00e0 dessus et qu'\u00e0 cet \u00e9gard j'en avais fort mal\nus\u00e9 avec l'\u00e9quipage et avec lui-m\u00eame en particulier; que, comme je\nn'\u00e9tais qu'un passager, que je n'avais ni commandement dans le navire,\nni int\u00e9r\u00eat dans le voyage, ils n'\u00e9taient pas oblig\u00e9s de supporter tout\ncela; qu'apr\u00e8s tout qui leur disait que je n'avais pas quelque mauvais\ndessein en t\u00eate, et ne leur susciterais pas un proc\u00e8s quand ils seraient\nde retour en Angleterre; enfin, que si je ne me d\u00e9terminais pas \u00e0 en\nfinir et \u00e0 ne plus me m\u00ealer de lui et de ses affaires, il quitterait le\nnavire, car il ne croyait pas qu'il f\u00fbt sain de voyager avec moi.\nJe l'\u00e9coutai assez patiemment jusqu'au bout, puis je lui r\u00e9pliquai qu'il\n\u00e9tait parfaitement vrai que tout du long je m'\u00e9tais oppos\u00e9 au _massacre\nde Madagascar_, car je ne d\u00e9mordais pas de l'appeler ainsi, et qu'en\ntoute occasion j'en avais parl\u00e9 fort \u00e0 mon aise, sans l'avoir en vue lui\nplus que les autres; qu'\u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 je n'avais point de commandement\ndans le navire et n'y exer\u00e7ais aucune autorit\u00e9, mais que je prenais la\nlibert\u00e9 d'exprimer mon opinion sur des choses qui visiblement nous\nconcernaient touts.--\u00abQuant \u00e0 mon int\u00e9r\u00eat dans le voyage, ajoutai-je,\nvous n'y entendez goutte: je suis propri\u00e9taire pour une grosse part dans\nce navire, et en cette qualit\u00e9 je me crois quelque droit de parler, m\u00eame\nplus que je ne l'ai encore fait, sans avoir de compte \u00e0 rendre ni \u00e0 vous\nni personne autre.\u00bb Je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 m'\u00e9chauffer: il ne me r\u00e9pondit que\npeu de chose cette fois, et je crus l'affaire termin\u00e9e. Nous \u00e9tions\nalors en rade au Bengale, et d\u00e9sireux de voir le pays, je me rendis \u00e0\nterre, dans la chaloupe, avec le subr\u00e9cargue, pour me r\u00e9cr\u00e9er. Vers le\nsoir, je me pr\u00e9parais \u00e0 retourner \u00e0 bord, quand un des matelots\ns'approcha de moi et me dit qu'il voulait m'\u00e9pargner la peine[20] de\nregagner la chaloupe, car ils avaient ordre de ne point me ramener \u00e0\nbord. On devine quelle fut ma surprise \u00e0 cet insolent message. Je\ndemandai au matelot qui l'avait charg\u00e9 de cette mission pr\u00e8s de moi. Il\nme r\u00e9pondit que c'\u00e9tait le patron de la chaloupe; je n'en dis pas\ndavantage \u00e0 ce gar\u00e7on, mais je lui ordonnai d'aller faire savoir \u00e0 qui\nde droit qu'il avait rempli son message, et que je n'y avais fait aucune\nr\u00e9ponse.\nJ'allai imm\u00e9diatement retrouver le subr\u00e9cargue, et je lui contai\nl'histoire, ajoutant qu'\u00e0 l'heure m\u00eame je pressentais qu'une mutinerie\ndevait \u00e9clater \u00e0 bord. Je le suppliai donc de s'y rendre sur-le-champ\ndans un canot indien pour donner l'\u00e9veil au capitaine; mais j'aurais pu\nme dispenser de cette communication, car avant m\u00eame que je lui eusse\nparl\u00e9 \u00e0 terre, le coup \u00e9tait frapp\u00e9 \u00e0 bord. Le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage, le\ncanonnier et le charpentier, et en un mot touts les officiers\ninf\u00e9rieurs, aussit\u00f4t que je fus descendu dans la chaloupe, se r\u00e9unirent\nvers le gaillard d'arri\u00e8re et demand\u00e8rent \u00e0 parler au capitaine. L\u00e0, le\nma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage faisant une longue harangue,--car le camarade\ns'exprimait fort bien,--et r\u00e9p\u00e9tant tout ce qu'il m'avait dit, lui\nd\u00e9clara en peu de mots que, puisque je m'en \u00e9tais all\u00e9 paisiblement \u00e0\nterre, il leur f\u00e2cherait d'user de violence envers moi, ce que,\nautrement, si je ne me fusse retir\u00e9 de moi-m\u00eame, ils auraient fait pour\nm'obliger \u00e0 m'\u00e9loigner.--\u00abCapitaine, poursuivit-il, nous croyons donc\ndevoir vous dire que, comme nous nous sommes embarqu\u00e9s pour servir sous\nvos ordres, notre d\u00e9sir est de les accomplir avec fid\u00e9lit\u00e9; mais que si\ncet homme ne veut pas quitter le navire, ni vous, capitaine, le\ncontraindre \u00e0 le quitter, nous abandonnerons touts le b\u00e2timent; nous\nvous laisserons en route.\u00bb--Au mot _touts_, il se tourna vers le grand\nmat, ce qui \u00e9tait, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, le signal convenu entre eux, et\nl\u00e0-dessus touts les matelots qui se trouvaient l\u00e0 r\u00e9unis se mirent \u00e0\ncrier:--Oui, touts! touts!\u00bb\nMon neveu le capitaine \u00e9tait un homme de c\u0153ur et d'une grande pr\u00e9sence\nd'esprit. Quoique surpris assur\u00e9ment \u00e0 cette incartade, il leur r\u00e9pondit\ncependant avec calme qu'il examinerait la question, mais qu'il ne\npouvait rien d\u00e9cider l\u00e0-dessus avant de m'en avoir parl\u00e9. Pour leur\nmontrer la d\u00e9raison et l'injustice de la chose, il leur poussa quelques\narguments; mais ce fut peine vaine. Ils jur\u00e8rent devant lui, en se\nsecouant la main \u00e0 la ronde, qu'ils s'en iraient touts \u00e0 terre, \u00e0 moins\nqu'il ne prom\u00eet de ne point souffrir que je revinsse \u00e0 bord du navire.\nLa clause \u00e9tait dure pour mon neveu, qui sentait toute l'obligation\nqu'il m'avait, et ne savait comment je prendrais cela. Aussi\ncommen\u00e7a-t-il \u00e0 leur parler cavali\u00e8rement. Il leur dit que j'\u00e9tais un\ndes plus consid\u00e9rables int\u00e9ress\u00e9s dans ce navire, et qu'en bonne justice\nil ne pouvait me mettre \u00e0 la porte de ma propre maison; que ce serait me\ntraiter \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s \u00e0 la mani\u00e8re du fameux pirate Kid, qui fomenta une\nr\u00e9volte \u00e0 bord, d\u00e9posa le capitaine sur une \u00eele inhabit\u00e9e et fit la\ncourse avec le navire; qu'ils \u00e9taient libres de s'embarquer sur le\nvaisseau qu'ils voudraient, mais que si jamais ils reparaissaient en\nAngleterre, il leur en co\u00fbterait cher; que le b\u00e2timent \u00e9tait mien, qu'il\nne pouvait m'en chasser, et qu'il aimerait mieux perdre le navire et\nl'exp\u00e9dition aussi, que de me d\u00e9sobliger \u00e0 ce point; donc, qu'ils\npouvaient agir comme bon leur semblait. Toutefois, il voulut aller \u00e0\nterre pour s'entretenir avec moi, et invita le ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage \u00e0 le\nsuivre, esp\u00e9rant qu'ils pourraient accommoder l'affaire.\nIls s'oppos\u00e8rent touts \u00e0 cette d\u00e9marche, disant qu'ils ne voulaient plus\navoir aucune esp\u00e8ce de rapport avec moi, ni sur terre ni sur mer, et que\nsi je remettais le pied \u00e0 bord, ils s'en iraient.--\u00abEh bien! dit le\ncapitaine, si vous \u00eates touts de cet avis, laissez-moi aller \u00e0 terre\npour causer avec lui.\u00bb--Il vint donc me trouver avec cette nouvelle, un\npeu apr\u00e8s le message qui m'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 apport\u00e9 de la part du patron de la\nchaloupe, du _Cockswain_.\nJe fus charm\u00e9 de revoir mon neveu, je dois l'avouer, dans l'appr\u00e9hension\no\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais qu'ils ne se fussent saisi de lui pour mettre \u00e0 la voile, et\nfaire la course avec le navire. Alors j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9 dans une contr\u00e9e\nlointaine d\u00e9nu\u00e9 et sans ressource, et je me serais trouv\u00e9 dans une\ncondition pire que lorsque j'\u00e9tais tout seul dans mon \u00eele.\nMais heureusement ils n'all\u00e8rent pas jusque l\u00e0, \u00e0 ma grande\nsatisfaction; et quand mon neveu me raconta ce qu'ils lui avaient dit,\ncomment ils avaient jur\u00e9, en se serrant la main, d'abandonner touts le\nb\u00e2timent s'il souffrait que je rentrasse \u00e0 bord, je le priai de ne point\nse tourmenter de cela, car je d\u00e9sirais rester \u00e0 terre. Seulement je lui\ndemandai de vouloir bien m'envoyer touts mes effets et de me laisser une\nsomme comp\u00e9tente, pour que je fusse \u00e0 m\u00eame de regagner l'Angleterre\naussi bien que possible.\nCe fut un rude coup pour mon neveu, mais il n'y avait pas moyen de parer\n\u00e0 cela, il fallait se r\u00e9signer. Il revint donc \u00e0 bord du navire et\nannon\u00e7a \u00e0 ses hommes que son oncle c\u00e9dait \u00e0 leur importunit\u00e9, et\nenvoyait chercher ses bagages. Ainsi tout fut termin\u00e9 en quelques\nheures: les mutins retourn\u00e8rent \u00e0 leur devoir, et moi je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0\nsonger \u00e0 ce que j'allais devenir.\nJ'\u00e9tais seul dans la contr\u00e9e la plus recul\u00e9e du monde: je puis bien\nl'appeler ainsi, car je me trouvais d'environ trois mille lieues par mer\nplus loin de l'Angleterre que je ne l'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 dans mon \u00eele. Seulement,\n\u00e0 dire vrai, il m'\u00e9tait possible de traverser par terre le pays du\nGrand-Mogol jusqu'\u00e0 Surate, d'aller de l\u00e0 \u00e0 Bassora par mer, en\nremontant le golfe Persique, de prendre le chemin des caravanes \u00e0\ntravers les d\u00e9serts de l'Arabie jusqu'\u00e0 Alep et Scanderoun, puis de l\u00e0,\npar mer, de gagner l'Italie, puis enfin de traverser la France;\nadditionn\u00e9 tout ensemble, ceci \u00e9quivaudrait au moins au diam\u00e8tre entier\ndu globe, et mesur\u00e9, je suppose que cela pr\u00e9senterait bien davantage.\nUn autre moyen s'offrait encore \u00e0 moi: c'\u00e9tait celui d'attendre les\nb\u00e2timents anglais qui se rendent au Bengale venant d'Achem dans l'\u00eele de\nSumatra, et de prendre passage \u00e0 bord de l'un d'eux pour l'Angleterre;\nmais comme je n'\u00e9tais point venu l\u00e0 sous le bon plaisir de la Compagnie\nanglaise des Indes-Orientales, il devait m'\u00eatre difficile d'en sortir\nsans sa permission, \u00e0 moins d'une grande faveur des capitaines de navire\nou des facteurs de la Compagnie, et aux uns et au autres j'\u00e9tais\nabsolument \u00e9tranger.\nL\u00e0, j'eus le singulier plaisir, parlant par antiphrase, de voir le\nb\u00e2timent mettre \u00e0 la voile sans moi: traitement que sans doute jamais\nhomme dans ma position n'avait subi, si ce n'est de la part de pirates\nfaisant la course et d\u00e9posant \u00e0 terre ceux qui ne tremperaient point\ndans leur infamie. Ceci sous touts les rapports n'y ressemblait pas mal.\nToutefois mon neveu m'avait laiss\u00e9 deux serviteurs, ou plut\u00f4t un\ncompagnon et un serviteur: le premier \u00e9tait le secr\u00e9taire du commis aux\nvivres, qui s'\u00e9tait engag\u00e9 \u00e0 me suivre, et le second \u00e9tait son propre\ndomestique. Je pris un bon logement dans la maison d'une dame anglaise,\no\u00f9 logeaient plusieurs n\u00e9gociants, quelques Fran\u00e7ais, deux Italiens, ou\nplut\u00f4t deux Juifs, et un Anglais. J'y \u00e9tais assez bien trait\u00e9; et, pour\nqu'il ne f\u00fbt pas dit que je courais \u00e0 tout inconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment, je demeurai\nl\u00e0 plus de neuf mois \u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur le parti que je devais prendre et\nsur la conduite que je devais tenir. J'avais avec moi des marchandises\nanglaises de valeur et une somme consid\u00e9rable en argent: mon neveu\nm'avait remis mille pi\u00e8ces de huit et une lettre de cr\u00e9dit\nsuppl\u00e9mentaire en cas que j'en eusse besoin, afin que je ne pusse \u00eatre\ng\u00ean\u00e9 quoi qu'il adv\u00eent.\nJe trouvai un d\u00e9bit prompt et avantageux de mes marchandises; et comme\nje me l'\u00e9tais primitivement propos\u00e9, j'achetai de fort beaux diamants,\nce qui me convenait le mieux dans ma situation parce que je pouvais\ntoujours porter tout mon bien avec moi.\nApr\u00e8s un long s\u00e9jour en ce lieu, et bon nombre de projets form\u00e9s pour\nmon retour en Angleterre, sans qu'aucun r\u00e9pondit \u00e0 mon d\u00e9sir, le\nn\u00e9gociant Anglais qui logeait avec moi, et avec lequel j'avais contract\u00e9\nune liaison intime, vint me trouver un matin--\u00abCompatriote, me dit-il,\nj'ai un projet \u00e0 vous communiquer; comme il s'accorde avec mes id\u00e9es, je\ncrois qu'il doit cadrer avec les v\u00f4tres \u00e9galement, quand vous y aurez\nbien r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi.\n\u00abIci nous sommes plac\u00e9s, ajouta-t-il, vous par accident, moi par mon\nchoix, dans une partie du monde fort \u00e9loign\u00e9e de notre patrie; mais\nc'est une contr\u00e9e o\u00f9 nous pouvons, nous qui entendons le commerce et les\naffaires, gagner beaucoup d'argent. Si vous voulez joindre mille livres\nsterling aux mille livres sterling que je poss\u00e8de, nous louerons ici un\nb\u00e2timent, le premier qui pourra nous convenir. Vous serez le capitaine,\nmoi je serai le n\u00e9gociant, et nous ferons un voyage de commerce \u00e0 la\nChine. Pourquoi demeurerions-nous tranquilles? Le monde entier est en\nmouvement, roulant et circulant sans cesse; toutes les cr\u00e9atures de\nDieu, les corps c\u00e9lestes et terrestres sont occup\u00e9s et diligents: pour\nquoi serions-nous oisifs? Il n'y a point dans l'univers de fain\u00e9ants que\nparmi les hommes: pourquoi grossirions-nous le nombre des fain\u00e9ants?\nPROPOSITION DU N\u00c9GOCIANT ANGLAIS\nJe go\u00fbtai fort cette proposition, surtout parce qu'elle semblait faite\navec beaucoup de bon vouloir et d'une mani\u00e8re amicale. Je ne dirai que\nma situation isol\u00e9e et d\u00e9tach\u00e9e me rendait plus que tout autre situation\npropre \u00e0 embrasser une entreprise commerciale: le n\u00e9goce n'\u00e9tait pas mon\n\u00e9l\u00e9ment; mais je puis bien dire avec v\u00e9rit\u00e9 que si le commerce n'\u00e9tait\npas mon \u00e9l\u00e9ment, une vie errante l'\u00e9tait; et jamais proposition d'aller\nvisiter quelque coin du monde que je n'avais point encore vu ne pouvait\nm'arriver mal \u00e0 propos.\nIl se passa toutefois quelque temps avant que nous eussions pu nous\nprocurer un navire \u00e0 notre gr\u00e9; et quand nous e\u00fbmes un navire, il ne fut\npas ais\u00e9 de trouver des marins anglais, c'est-\u00e0-dire autant qu'il en\nfallait pour gouverner le voyage et diriger les matelots que nous\nprendrions sur les lieux. \u00c0 la fin cependant nous trouv\u00e2mes un\nlieutenant, un ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage et un canonnier anglais, un charpentier\nhollandais, et trois Portugais, matelots du gaillard d'avant; avec ce\nmonde et des marins indiens tels quels nous pens\u00e2mes que nous pourrions\npasser outre.\nIl y a tant de voyageurs qui ont \u00e9crit l'histoire de leurs voyages et de\nleurs exp\u00e9ditions dans ces parages, qu'il serait pour tout le monde\nassez insipide de donner une longue relation des lieux o\u00f9 nous all\u00e2mes\net des peuples qui les habitent. Je laisse cette besogne \u00e0 d'autres, et\nje renvoie le lecteur aux journaux des voyageurs anglais, dont beaucoup\nsont d\u00e9j\u00e0 publi\u00e9s et beaucoup plus encore sont promis chaque jour. C'est\nassez pour moi de vous dire que nous nous rend\u00eemes d'abord \u00e0 Achem, dans\nl'\u00eele de Sumatra, puis de l\u00e0 \u00e0 Siam, o\u00f9 nous \u00e9change\u00e2mes quelques-unes\nde nos marchandises contre de l'opium et de l'arack; le premier est un\narticle d'un grand prix chez les Chinois, et dont ils avaient faute \u00e0\ncette \u00e9poque. En un mot nous all\u00e2mes jusqu'\u00e0 Sung-Kiang; nous f\u00eemes un\ntr\u00e8s-grand voyage; nous demeur\u00e2mes huit mois dehors, et nous retourn\u00e2mes\nau Bengale. Pour ma part, je fus grandement satisfait de mon\nentreprise.--J'ai remarqu\u00e9 qu'en Angleterre souvent on s'\u00e9tonne de ce\nque les officiers que la Compagnie envoie aux Indes et les n\u00e9gociants\nqui g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement s'y \u00e9tablissent, amassent de si grands biens et\nquelquefois reviennent riches \u00e0 soixante, soixante-dix, cent mille\nlivres sterling.\nMais ce n'est pas merveilleux, ou du moins cela s'explique quand on\nconsid\u00e8re le nombre innombrable de ports et de comptoirs o\u00f9 le commerce\nest libre, et surtout quand on songe que, dans touts ces lieux, ces\nports fr\u00e9quent\u00e9s par les navires anglais il se fait constamment des\ndemandes si consid\u00e9rables de touts les produits \u00e9trangers, que les\nmarchandises qu'on y porte y sont toujours d'une aussi bonne d\u00e9faite que\ncelles qu'on en exporte.\nBref, nous f\u00eemes un fort bon voyage, et je gagnai tant d'argent dans\ncette premi\u00e8re exp\u00e9dition, et j'acquis de telles notions sur la mani\u00e8re\nd'en gagner davantage, que si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 de vingt ans plus jeune,\nj'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 tent\u00e9 de me fixer en ce pays, et n'aurais pas cherch\u00e9\nfortune plus loin. Mais qu'\u00e9tait tout ceci pour un homme qui avait pass\u00e9\nla soixantaine, pour un homme bien assez riche, venu dans ces climats\nlointains plut\u00f4t pour ob\u00e9ir \u00e0 un d\u00e9sir impatient de voir le monde qu'au\nd\u00e9sir cupide d'y faire grand gain? Et c'est vraiment \u00e0 bon droit, je\npense, que j'appelle ce d\u00e9sir impatient; car c'en \u00e9tait l\u00e0: quand\nj'\u00e9tais chez moi j'\u00e9tais impatient de courir, et quand j'\u00e9tais \u00e0\nl'\u00e9tranger j'\u00e9tais impatient de revenir chez moi. Je le r\u00e9p\u00e8te, que\nm'importait ce gain? D\u00e9j\u00e0 bien assez riche, je n'avais nul d\u00e9sir\nimportun d'accro\u00eetre mes richesses; et c'est pourquoi les profits de ce\nvoyage me furent choses trop inf\u00e9rieures pour me pousser \u00e0 de nouvelles\nentreprises. Il me semblait que dans cette exp\u00e9dition je n'avais fait\naucun lucre, parce que j'\u00e9tais revenu au lieu d'o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais parti, \u00e0 la\nmaison, en quelque sorte; d'autant que mon \u0153il, comme l'\u0153il dont parle\nSalomon, n'\u00e9tait jamais rassasi\u00e9, et que je me sentais de plus en plus\nd\u00e9sireux de courir et de voir. J'\u00e9tais venu dans une partie du monde que\nje n'avais jamais visit\u00e9e, celle dont plus particuli\u00e8rement j'avais\nbeaucoup entendu parler, et j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu \u00e0 la parcourir autant que\npossible: apr\u00e8s quoi, pensais-je, je pourrais dire que j'avais vu tout\nce qui au monde est digne d'\u00eatre vu.\nMais mon compagnon de voyage et moi nous avions une id\u00e9e diff\u00e9rente. Je\nne dis pas cela pour insister sur la mienne, car je reconnais que la\nsienne \u00e9tait la plus juste et la plus conforme au but d'un n\u00e9gociant,\ndont toute la sagesse, lorsqu'il est au dehors en op\u00e9ration commerciale,\nse r\u00e9sume en cela, que pour lui la chose la meilleure est celle qui peut\nlui faire gagner le plus d'argent. Mon nouvel ami s'en tenait au\npositif, et se serait content\u00e9 d'aller, comme un cheval de roulier,\ntoujours \u00e0 la m\u00eame auberge, au d\u00e9part et au retour, pourvu, selon sa\npropre expression, qu'il y p\u00fbt trouver son compte. Mon id\u00e9e, au\ncontraire, tout vieux que j'\u00e9tais, ressemblait fort \u00e0 celle d'un \u00e9colier\nfantasque et buissonnier qui ne se soucie point devoir une chose deux\nfois.\nOr ce n'\u00e9tait pas tout. J'avais une sorte d'impatience de me rapprocher\nde chez moi, et cependant pas la moindre r\u00e9solution arr\u00eat\u00e9e sur la route\n\u00e0 prendre. Durant cette ind\u00e9termination, mon ami, qui \u00e9tait toujours \u00e0\nla recherche des affaires, me proposa un autre voyage aux \u00eeles des\n\u00c9pices pour rapporter une cargaison de clous de girofle de Manille ou\ndes environs, lieux o\u00f9 vraiment les Hollandais font tout le commerce,\nbien qu'ils appartiennent en partie aux Espagnols. Toutefois nous ne\npouss\u00e2mes pas si loin, nous nous en t\u00eenmes seulement \u00e0 quelques autres\nplaces o\u00f9 ils n'ont pas un pouvoir absolu comme ils l'ont \u00e0 Batavia,\nCeylan _et c\u00e6tera_. Nous n'avions pas \u00e9t\u00e9 longs \u00e0 nous pr\u00e9parer pour\ncette exp\u00e9dition: la difficult\u00e9 principale avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de m'y engager.\nCependant \u00e0 la fin rien autre ne s'\u00e9tant offert et trouvant qu'apr\u00e8s\ntout rouler et trafiquer avec un profit si grand, et je puis bien dire\ncertain, \u00e9tait chose plus agr\u00e9able en soi et plus conforme \u00e0 mon humeur\nque de rester inactif, ce qui pour moi \u00e9tait une mort, je m'\u00e9tais\nd\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 ce voyage. Nous le f\u00eemes avec un grand succ\u00e8s, et, touchant\n\u00e0 Born\u00e9o et \u00e0 plusieurs autres \u00eeles dont je ne puis me rem\u00e9morer le nom,\nnous rev\u00eenmes au bout de cinq mois environ. Nous vend\u00eemes nos \u00e9pices,\nqui consistaient principalement en clous de girofle et en noix muscades,\n\u00e0 des n\u00e9gociants persans, qui les exp\u00e9di\u00e8rent pour le Golfe; nous\ngagn\u00e2mes cinq pour un, nous e\u00fbmes r\u00e9ellement un b\u00e9n\u00e9fice \u00e9norme.\nMon ami, quand nous r\u00e9gl\u00e2mes ce compte, me regarda en souriant:--Eh bien\nmaintenant, me dit-il, insultant aimablement \u00e0 ma nonchalance; ceci ne\nvaut-il pas mieux que de tr\u00f4ler \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 comme un homme d\u00e9s\u0153uvr\u00e9, et de\nperdre notre temps \u00e0 nous \u00e9bahir de la sottise et de l'ignorance des\npayens?--\u00abVraiment, mon ami, r\u00e9pondis-je, je le crois et commence \u00e0 me\nconvertir aux principes du n\u00e9goce; mais souffrez que je vous le dise en\npassant, vous ne savez ce dont je suis capable; car si une bonne fois je\nsurmonte mon indolence, et m'embarque r\u00e9solument, tout vieux que je\nsuis, je vous harasserai de c\u00f4t\u00e9 et d'autre par le monde jusqu'\u00e0 ce que\nvous n'en puissiez plus; car je prendrai si chaudement l'affaire, que je\nne vous laisserai point de r\u00e9pit.\nOr pour couper court \u00e0 mes sp\u00e9culations, peu de temps apr\u00e8s ceci arriva\nun b\u00e2timent hollandais venant de Batavia; ce n'\u00e9tait pas un navire\nmarchand europ\u00e9en, mais un caboteur, du port d'environ de cents\ntonneaux. L'\u00e9quipage, pr\u00e9tendait-on, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 si malade, que le\ncapitaine, n'ayant pas assez de monde pour tenir la mer, s'\u00e9tait vu\nforc\u00e9 de rel\u00e2cher au Bengale; et comme s'il e\u00fbt assez gagn\u00e9 d'argent, ou\nqu'il souhait\u00e2t pour d'autres raisons d'aller en Europe, il fit annoncer\npubliquement qu'il d\u00e9sirait vendre son vaisseau. Cet avis me vint aux\noreilles avant que mon nouveau partner n'en e\u00fbt ou\u00ef parler, et il me\nprit grandement envie de faire cette acquisition. J'allai donc le\ntrouver et je lui en touchai quelques mots. Il r\u00e9fl\u00e9chit un instant, car\nil n'\u00e9tait pas homme \u00e0 s'empresser; puis, apr\u00e8s cette pause, il\nr\u00e9pondit:--\u00abIl est un peu trop gros; mais cependant ayons-le.\u00bb--En\ncons\u00e9quence, tombant d'accord avec le capitaine, nous achet\u00e2mes ce\nnavire, le pay\u00e2mes et en pr\u00eemes possession. Ceci fait, nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes\nd'embaucher les gens de l'\u00e9quipage pour les joindre aux hommes que nous\navions d\u00e9j\u00e0 et poursuivre notre affaire. Mais tout-\u00e0-coup, ayant re\u00e7u\nnon leurs gages, mais leurs parts de l'argent, comme nous l'appr\u00eemes\nplus tard, il ne fut plus possible d'en retrouver un seul. Nous nous\nenqu\u00eemes d'eux partout, et \u00e0 la fin nous appr\u00eemes qu'ils \u00e9taient partis\ntouts ensemble par terre pour Agra, la grande cit\u00e9, r\u00e9sidence du Mogol,\n\u00e0 dessein de se rendre de l\u00e0 \u00e0 Surate, puis de gagner par mer le golfe\nPersique.\nRien depuis long-temps ne m'avait autant chagrin\u00e9 que d'avoir manqu\u00e9\nl'occasion de partir avec eux. Un tel p\u00e9lerinage, m'imaginais-je, e\u00fbt\n\u00e9t\u00e9 pour moi en pareille compagnie, tout \u00e0 la fois agr\u00e9able et s\u00fbr, et\naurait compl\u00e8tement cadr\u00e9 avec mon grand projet: j'aurais vu le monde et\nen m\u00eame temps je me serais rapproch\u00e9 de ma patrie. Mais je fus beaucoup\nmoins inconsolable peu de jours apr\u00e8s quand je vins \u00e0 savoir quelle\nsorte de compagnons c'\u00e9taient, car, en peu de mots, voici leur histoire.\nL'homme qu'ils appelaient capitaine n'\u00e9tait que le canonnier et non le\ncommandant. Dans le cours d'un voyage commercial ils avaient \u00e9t\u00e9\nattaqu\u00e9s sur le rivage par quelques Malais, qui tu\u00e8rent le capitaine et\ntrois de ses hommes. Apr\u00e8s cette perte nos dr\u00f4les au nombre de onze,\navaient r\u00e9solu de s'enfuir avec le b\u00e2timent, ce qu'ils avaient fait, et\nl'avaient amen\u00e9 dans le golfe du Bengale, abandonnant \u00e0 terre le\nlieutenant et cinq matelots, dont nous aurons des nouvelles plus loin.\nN'importe par quelle voie ce navire leur \u00e9tait tomb\u00e9 entre les mains,\nnous l'avions acquis honn\u00eatement, pensions-nous, quoique, je l'avoue,\nnous n'eussions pas examin\u00e9 la chose aussi exactement que nous le\ndevions; car nous n'avions fait aucune question aux matelots, qui, si\nnous les avions sond\u00e9s, se seraient assur\u00e9ment coup\u00e9s dans leurs r\u00e9cits,\nse seraient d\u00e9mentis r\u00e9ciproquement, peut-\u00eatre contredits eux-m\u00eames: et\nd'une mani\u00e8re ou d'une autre nous auraient donn\u00e9 lieu de les suspecter.\nL'homme nous avait montr\u00e9 un contrat de vente du navire \u00e0 un certain\nEmmanuel Clostershoven ou quelque nom semblable, forg\u00e9 comme tout le\nreste je suppose, qui soi-disant \u00e9tait le sien, ce que nous n'avions pu\nmettre en doute; et, un peu trop inconsid\u00e9r\u00e9ment ou du moins n'ayant\naucun soup\u00e7on de la chose, nous avions conclu le march\u00e9.\nQuoi qu'il en f\u00fbt, apr\u00e8s cet achat nous enr\u00f4l\u00e2mes des marins anglais et\nhollandais, et nous nous d\u00e9termin\u00e2mes \u00e0 faire un second voyage dans le\nSud-Est pour aller chercher des clous de girofle et autres \u00e9pices aux\n\u00eeles Philippines et aux Moluques. Bref, pour ne pas remplir de\nbagatelles cette partie de mon histoire, quand la suite en est si\nremarquable, je passai en tout six ans dans ces contr\u00e9es, allant et\nrevenant et trafiquant de port en port avec beaucoup de succ\u00e8s. La\nderni\u00e8re ann\u00e9e j'entrepris avec mon partner, sur le vaisseau ci-dessus\nmentionn\u00e9, un voyage en Chine, convenus que nous \u00e9tions d'aller d'abord\n\u00e0 Siam pour y acheter du riz.\nDans cette exp\u00e9dition, contrari\u00e9s par les vents, nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de\nlouvoyer long-temps \u00e7\u00e0 et l\u00e0 dans le d\u00e9troit de Malacca et parmi les\n\u00eeles, et comme nous sortions de ces mers difficiles nous nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes\nque le navire avait fait une voie d'eau: malgr\u00e9 toute notre habilet\u00e9\nnous ne pouvions d\u00e9couvrir o\u00f9 elle \u00e9tait. Cette avarie nous for\u00e7a de\nchercher quelque part, et mon partner, qui connaissait le pays mieux que\nmoi, conseilla au capitaine d'entrer dans la rivi\u00e8re de Camboge, car\nj'avais fait capitaine le lieutenant anglais, un M. Thompson, ne voulant\npoint me charger du commandement du navire. Cette rivi\u00e8re coule au nord\nde la grande baie ou golfe qui remonte jusqu'\u00e0 Siam.\nRENCONTRE DU CANONNIER\nTandis que nous \u00e9tions mouill\u00e9s l\u00e0, allant souvent \u00e0 terre me r\u00e9cr\u00e9er,\nun jour vint \u00e0 moi un Anglais, second canonnier, si je ne me trompe, \u00e0\nbord d'un navire de la compagnie des Indes Orientales, \u00e0 l'ancre plus\nhaut dans la m\u00eame rivi\u00e8re pr\u00e8s de la ville de Camboge ou \u00e0 Camboge m\u00eame.\nQui l'avait amen\u00e9 en ce lieu? Je ne sais; mais il vint \u00e0 moi, et,\nm'adressant la parole en anglais:--\u00abSir, dit-il, vous m'\u00eates \u00e9tranger et\nje vous le suis \u00e9galement; cependant j'ai \u00e0 vous dire quelque chose qui\nvous touche de tr\u00e8s-pr\u00e8s.\u00bb\nJe le regardai long-temps fixement, et je crus d'abord le reconna\u00eetre;\nmais je me trompais.--\u00abSi cela me touche de tr\u00e8s-pr\u00e8s, lui dis-je, et ne\nvous touche point vous-m\u00eame, qui vous porte \u00e0 me le communiquer?\u00bb--\u00abCe\nqui m'y porte c'est le danger imminent o\u00f9 vous \u00eates, et dont je vois que\nvous n'avez aucune connaissance.\u00bb--\u00abTout le danger o\u00f9 je suis, que je\nsache, c'est que mon navire a fait une voie d'eau que je ne puis\ntrouver; mais je me propose de le mettre \u00e0 terre demain pour t\u00e2cher de\nla d\u00e9couvrir.\u00bb--\u00abMais, Sir, r\u00e9pliqua-t-il, qu'il ait fait ou non une\nvoie, que vous l'ayez trouv\u00e9e ou non, vous ne serez pas si fou que de le\nmettre \u00e0 terre demain quand vous aurez entendu ce que j'ai \u00e0 vous dire.\nSavez-vous, Sir, que la ville de Camboge n'est gu\u00e8re qu'\u00e0 quinze lieues\nplus haut sur cette rivi\u00e8re et qu'environ \u00e0 cinq lieues de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 il y\na deux gros b\u00e2timents anglais et trois hollandais?\u00bb--\u00abEh bien! qu'est-ce\nque cela me fait, \u00e0 moi? repartis-je.\u00bb--\u00abQuoi! Sir, reprit-il,\nappartient-il \u00e0 un homme qui cherche certaine aventure comme vous faites\nd'entrer dans un port sans examiner auparavant quels vaisseaux s'y\ntrouvent, et s'il est de force \u00e0 se mesurer avec eux? Je ne suppose pas\nque vous pensiez la partie \u00e9gale.\u00bb--Ce discours m'avait fort amus\u00e9, mais\npas effray\u00e9 le moins du monde, car je ne savais ce qu'il signifiait. Et\nme tournant brusquement vers notre inconnu, je lui dis:--\u00abSir, je vous\nen prie, expliquez-vous; je n'imagine pas quelle raison je puis avoir de\nredouter les navires de la Compagnie, ou des b\u00e2timents hollandais: je ne\nsuis point interlope. Que peuvent-ils avoir \u00e0 me dire?\u00bb\nIl prit un air moiti\u00e9 col\u00e8re, moiti\u00e9 plaisant, garda un instant le\nsilence, puis souriant:--\u00abFort bien, Sir, me dit-il, si vous vous croyez\nen s\u00fbret\u00e9, \u00e0 vos souhaits! je suis pourtant f\u00e2ch\u00e9 que votre destin\u00e9e\nvous rende sourd \u00e0 un bon avis; sur l'honneur, je vous l'assure, si vous\nne regagnez pas la mer imm\u00e9diatement vous serez attaqu\u00e9 \u00e0 la prochaine\nmar\u00e9e par cinq chaloupes bien \u00e9quip\u00e9es, et peut-\u00eatre, si l'on vous\nprend, serez-vous pendus comme pirates, sauf \u00e0 informer apr\u00e8s. Sir, je\npensais trouver un meilleur accueil en vous rendant un service d'une\ntelle importance.\u00bb--\u00abJe ne saurais \u00eatre m\u00e9connaissant d'aucun service,\nni envers aucun homme qui me t\u00e9moigne de l'int\u00e9r\u00eat; mais cela passe ma\ncompr\u00e9hension, qu'on puisse avoir un tel dessein contre moi. Quoi qu'il\nen soit, puisque vous me dites qu'il n'y a point de temps \u00e0 perdre, et\nqu'on ourdit contre moi quelque odieuse trame, je retourne \u00e0 bord sur-le\nchamp et je remets imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 la voile, si mes hommes peuvent\n\u00e9tancher la voie d'eau ou si malgr\u00e9 cela nous pouvons tenir la mer.\nMais, Sir, partirai-je sans savoir la raison de tout ceci? Ne\npourriez-vous me donner l\u00e0-dessus quelques lumi\u00e8res?\u00bb\n\u00ab--Je ne puis vous conter qu'une partie de l'affaire, Sir, me dit-il;\nmais j'ai l\u00e0 avec moi un matelot hollandais qui \u00e0 ma pri\u00e8re, je pense,\nvous dirait le reste si le temps le permettait. Or le gros de\nl'histoire, dont la premi\u00e8re partie, je suppose, vous est parfaitement\nconnue, c'est que vous \u00eates all\u00e9s avec ce navire \u00e0 Sumatra; que l\u00e0 votre\ncapitaine a \u00e9t\u00e9 massacr\u00e9 par les Malais avec trois de ces gens, et que\nvous et quelques-uns de ceux qui se trouvaient \u00e0 bord avec vous, vous\nvous \u00eates enfui avec le b\u00e2timent, et depuis vous vous \u00eates faits\nPirates. Voil\u00e0 le fait en substance, et vous allez \u00eatre touts saisis\ncomme \u00e9cumeurs, je vous l'assure, et ex\u00e9cut\u00e9s sans autre forme de\nproc\u00e8s; car, vous le savez, les navires marchands font peu de c\u00e9r\u00e9monies\navec les forbans quand ils tombent en leur pouvoir.\u00bb\n--\u00abMaintenant vous parlez bon anglais, lui dis-je, et je vous remercie;\net quoique je ne sache pas que nous ayons rien fait de semblable,\nquoique je sois s\u00fbr d'avoir acquis honn\u00eatement et l\u00e9gitimement ce\nvaisseau[21], cependant, puisqu'un pareil coup se pr\u00e9pare, comme vous\ndites, et que vous me semblez sinc\u00e8re, je me tiendrai sur mes\ngardes.\u00bb--\u00abNon, Sir, reprit-il, je ne vous dis pas de vous mettre sur\nvos gardes: la meilleure pr\u00e9caution est d'\u00eatre hors de danger. Si vous\nfaites quelque cas de votre vie et de celle de vos gens, regagnez la mer\nsans d\u00e9lai \u00e0 la mar\u00e9e haute; comme vous aurez toute une mar\u00e9e devant\nvous, vous serez d\u00e9j\u00e0 bien loin avant que les cinq chaloupes puissent\ndescendre, car elles ne viendront qu'avec le flux, et comme elles sont \u00e0\nvingt milles plus haut, vous aurez l'avance de pr\u00e8s de deux heures sur\nelles par la diff\u00e9rence de la mar\u00e9e, sans compter la longueur du chemin.\nEn outre, comme ce sont des chaloupes seulement, et non point des\nnavires, elles n'oseront vous suivre au large, surtout s'il fait du\nvent.\u00bb\n--\u00abBien, lui dis-je, vous avez \u00e9t\u00e9 on ne peut plus obligeant en cette\nrencontre: que puis-je faire pour votre r\u00e9compense?\u00bb--\u00abSir, r\u00e9pondit-il,\nvous ne pouvez avoir grande envie de me r\u00e9compenser, vous n'\u00eates pas\nassez convaincu de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 de tout ceci: je vous ferai seulement une\nproposition: il m'est d\u00fb dix-neuf mois de paie \u00e0 bord du navire le ***,\nsur lequel je suis venu d'Angleterre, et il en est d\u00fb sept au Hollandais\nqui est avec moi; voulez-vous nous en tenir compte? nous partirons avec\nvous. Si la chose en reste l\u00e0, nous ne demanderons rien de plus; mais\ns'il advient que vous soyez convaincu que nous avons sauv\u00e9, et votre\nvie, et le navire, et la vie de tout l'\u00e9quipage, nous laisserons le\nreste \u00e0 votre discr\u00e9tion.\u00bb\nJ'y t\u00f4pai sur-le-champ, et je m'en allai imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 bord, et les\ndeux hommes avec moi. Aussit\u00f4t que j'approchai du navire, mon partner,\nqui ne l'avait point quitt\u00e9, accourut sur le gaillard d'arri\u00e8re et tout\njoyeux me cria:--\u00abO ho! O ho! nous avons bouch\u00e9 la voie\u00bb--\u00abTout de bon?\nlui dis-je; b\u00e9ni soit Dieu! mais qu'on l\u00e8ve l'ancre en toute\nh\u00e2te.\u00bb--\u00abQu'on l\u00e8ve l'ancre! r\u00e9p\u00e9ta-t-il, qu'entendez-vous par l\u00e0? Qu'y\na-t-il?\u00bb \u00abPoint de questions, r\u00e9pliquai-je; mais tout le monde \u00e0\nl'\u0153uvre, et qu'on l\u00e8ve l'ancre sans perdre une minute.\u00bb--Frapp\u00e9\nd'\u00e9tonnement, il ne laissa pas d'appeler le capitaine, et de lui\nordonner incontinent de lever l'ancre, et quoique la mar\u00e9e ne f\u00fbt pas\nenti\u00e8rement mont\u00e9e, une petite brise de terre soufflant, nous f\u00eemes\nroute vers la mer. Alors j'appelai mon partner dans la cabine et je lui\ncontai en d\u00e9tail mon aventure, puis nous f\u00eemes venir les deux hommes\npour nous donner le reste de l'histoire. Mais comme ce r\u00e9cit demandait\nbeaucoup de temps, il n'\u00e9tait pas termin\u00e9 qu'un matelot vint crier \u00e0 la\nporte de la cabine, de la part du capitaine, que nous \u00e9tions\nchass\u00e9s.--\u00abChass\u00e9s! m'\u00e9criai-je; comment et par qui?\u00bb--\u00abPar cinq\n_sloops_, ou chaloupes, pleines de monde.\u00bb--\u00abTr\u00e8s-bien! dis-je; il\npara\u00eet qu'il y a du vrai l\u00e0-dedans.\u00bb--Sur-le-champ je fis assembler\ntouts nos hommes, et je leur d\u00e9clarai qu'on avait dessein de se saisir\ndu navire pour nous traiter comme des pirates; puis je leur demandai\ns'ils voulaient nous assister et se d\u00e9fendre. Ils r\u00e9pondirent\njoyeusement, unanimement, qu'ils voulaient vivre et mourir avec nous.\nSur ce, je demandai au capitaine quel \u00e9tait \u00e0 son sens la meilleure\nmarche \u00e0 suivre dans le combat, car j'\u00e9tais r\u00e9solu \u00e0 r\u00e9sister jusqu'\u00e0 la\nderni\u00e8re goutte de mon sang.--\u00abIl faut, dit-il, tenir l'ennemi \u00e0\ndistance avec notre canon, aussi long-temps que possible, puis faire\npleuvoir sur lui notre mousqueterie pour l'emp\u00eacher de nous aborder;\npuis, ces ressources \u00e9puis\u00e9es, se retirer dans nos quartiers; peut-\u00eatre\nn'auront-ils point d'instruments pour briser nos cloisons et ne\npourront-ils p\u00e9n\u00e9trer jusqu'\u00e0 nous.\u00bb\nL\u00e0-dessus notre canonnier re\u00e7ut l'ordre de transporter deux pi\u00e8ces \u00e0 la\ntimonerie, pour balayer le pont de l'avant \u00e0 l'arri\u00e8re, et de les\ncharger de balles, de morceaux de ferraille, et de tout ce qui tomberait\nsous la main. Tandis que nous nous pr\u00e9parions au combat, nous gagnions\ntoujours le large avec assez de vent, et nous appercevions dans\nl'\u00e9loignement les embarcations, les cinq grandes chaloupes qui nous\nsuivaient avec toute la voile qu'elles pouvaient faire.\nDeux de ces chaloupes, qu'\u00e0 l'aide de nos longues-vues nous reconn\u00fbmes\npour anglaises, avaient d\u00e9pass\u00e9 les autres de pr\u00e8s de deux lieues, et\ngagnaient consid\u00e9rablement sur nous; \u00e0 n'en pas douter, elles voulaient\nnous joindre; nous tir\u00e2mes donc un coup de canon \u00e0 poudre pour leur\nintimer l'ordre de mettre en panne et nous arbor\u00e2mes un pavillon blanc,\ncomme pour demander \u00e0 parlementer; mais elles continu\u00e8rent de forcer de\nvoiles jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'elles vinssent \u00e0 port\u00e9e de canon. Alors nous\namen\u00e2mes le pavillon blanc auquel elles n'avaient point fait r\u00e9ponse,\net, d\u00e9ployant le pavillon rouge, nous tir\u00e2mes sur elles \u00e0 boulets. Sans\nen tenir aucun compte elles poursuivirent. Quand elles furent assez pr\u00e8s\npour \u00eatre h\u00e9l\u00e9es avec le porte-voix que nous avions \u00e0 bord nous les\narraisonn\u00e2mes, et leur enjoign\u00eemes de s'\u00e9loigner, que sinon mal leur en\nprendrait.\nCe fut peine perdue, elles n'en d\u00e9mordirent point, et s'efforc\u00e8rent\nd'arriver sous notre poupe comme pour nous aborder par l'arri\u00e8re. Voyant\nqu'elles \u00e9taient r\u00e9solues \u00e0 tenter un mauvais coup, et se fiaient sur\nles forces qui les suivaient, je donnai l'ordre de mettre en panne afin\nde leur pr\u00e9senter le travers, et imm\u00e9diatement on leur tira cinq coups\nde canon, dont un avait \u00e9t\u00e9 point\u00e9 si juste qu'il emporta la poupe de la\nchaloupe la plus \u00e9loign\u00e9e, ce qui mit l'\u00e9quipage dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9\nd'amener toutes les voiles et de se jeter sur l'avant pour emp\u00eacher\nqu'elle ne coul\u00e2t; elle s'en tint l\u00e0, elle en eut assez; mais la plus\navanc\u00e9e n'en poursuivant pas moins sa course, nous nous pr\u00e9par\u00e2mes \u00e0\nfaire feu sur elle en particulier.\nDans ces entrefaites, une des trois qui suivaient, ayant devanc\u00e9 les\ndeux autres, s'approcha de celle que nous avions d\u00e9sempar\u00e9e pour la\nsecourir, et nous la v\u00eemes ensuite en recueillir l'\u00e9quipage. Nous\nh\u00e9l\u00e2mes de nouveau la chaloupe la plus proche, et lui offr\u00eemes de\nnouveau une tr\u00eave pour parlementer, afin de savoir ce qu'elle nous\nvoulait: pour toute r\u00e9ponse elle s'avan\u00e7a sous notre poupe. Alors notre\ncanonnier, qui \u00e9tait un adroit compagnon, braqua ses deux canons de\nchasse et fit feu sur elle; mais il manqua son coup, et les hommes de la\nchaloupe, faisant des acclamations et agitant leurs bonnets, pouss\u00e8rent\nen avant. Le canonnier, s'\u00e9tant de nouveau promptement appr\u00eat\u00e9, fit feu\nsur eux une seconde fois. Un boulet, bien qu'il n'atteign\u00eet pas\nl'embarcation elle-m\u00eame, tomba au milieu des matelots, et fit, nous\np\u00fbmes le voir ais\u00e9ment, un grand ravage parmi eux. Incontinent nous\nvir\u00e2mes lof pour lof; nous leur pr\u00e9sent\u00e2mes la hanche, et, leur ayant\nl\u00e2ch\u00e9 trois coups de canon nous nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes que la chaloupe \u00e9tait\npresque mise en pi\u00e8ces; le gouvernail entre autres et un morceau de la\npoupe avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 emport\u00e9s; ils serr\u00e8rent donc leurs voiles\nimm\u00e9diatement, jet\u00e9s qu'ils \u00e9taient dans une grande confusion.\nAFFAIRE DES CINQ CHALOUPES\nPour compl\u00e9ter leur d\u00e9sastre notre canonnier leur envoya deux autres\ncoups; nous ne s\u00fbmes o\u00f9 ils frapp\u00e8rent, mais nous v\u00eemes la chaloupe qui\ncoulait bas. D\u00e9j\u00e0 plusieurs hommes luttaient avec les\nflots.--Sur-le-champ je fis mettre \u00e0 la mer et garnir de monde notre\npinace, avec ordre de rep\u00eacher quelques-uns de nos ennemis s'il \u00e9tait\npossible, et de les amener de suite \u00e0 bord, parce que les autres\nchaloupes commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 s'approcher. Nos gens de la pinace ob\u00e9irent et\nrecueillirent trois pauvres diables, dont l'un \u00e9tait sur le point de se\nnoyer: nous e\u00fbmes bien de la peine \u00e0 le faire revenir \u00e0 lui. Aussit\u00f4t\nqu'ils furent rentr\u00e9s \u00e0 bord, nous m\u00eemes toutes voiles dehors pour\ncourir au large, et quand les trois autres chaloupes eurent rejoint les\ndeux premi\u00e8res, nous v\u00eemes qu'elles avaient lev\u00e9 la chasse.\nAinsi d\u00e9livr\u00e9 d'un danger qui, bien que j'en ignorasse la cause, me\nsemblait beaucoup plus grand que je ne l'avais appr\u00e9hend\u00e9, je fis\nchanger de route pour ne point donner \u00e0 conna\u00eetre o\u00f9 nous allions. Nous\nm\u00eemes donc le cap \u00e0 l'Est, enti\u00e8rement hors de la ligne suivie par les\nnavires europ\u00e9ens charg\u00e9e pour la Chine ou m\u00eame tout autre lieu en\nrelation commerciale avec les nations de l'Europe.\nQuand nous f\u00fbmes au large nous consult\u00e2mes avec les deux marins, et nous\nleur demand\u00e2mes d'abord ce que tout cela pouvait signifier. Le\nHollandais nous mit tout d'un coup dans le secret, en nous d\u00e9clarant que\nle drille qui nous avait vendu le navire, comme on sait, n'\u00e9tait rien\nmoins qu'un voleur qui s'\u00e9tait enfui avec. Alors il nous raconta comment\nle capitaine, dont il nous dit le nom que je ne puis me rem\u00e9morer\naujourd'hui, avait \u00e9t\u00e9 tra\u00eetreusement massacr\u00e9 par les naturels sur la\nc\u00f4te de Malacca, avec trois de ses hommes, et comment lui, ce\nHollandais, et quatre autres s'\u00e9taient r\u00e9fugi\u00e9s dans les bois, o\u00f9 ils\navaient err\u00e9 bien long-temps, et d'o\u00f9 lui seul enfin s'\u00e9tait \u00e9chapp\u00e9\nd'une fa\u00e7on miraculeuse en atteignant \u00e0 la nage un navire hollandais,\nqui, naviguant pr\u00e8s de la c\u00f4te en revenant de Chine, avait envoy\u00e9 sa\nchaloupe \u00e0 terre pour faire aiguade. Cet infortun\u00e9 n'avait pas os\u00e9\ndescendre sur le rivage o\u00f9 \u00e9tait l'embarcation; mais, dans la nuit,\nayant gagn\u00e9 l'eau un peu au-del\u00e0, apr\u00e8s avoir nag\u00e9 fort long-temps, \u00e0 la\nfin il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 recueilli par la chaloupe du navire.\nIl nous dit ensuite qu'il \u00e9tait all\u00e9 \u00e0 Batavia, o\u00f9 ayant abandonn\u00e9 les\nautres dans leur voyage, deux marins appartenant \u00e0 ce navire \u00e9taient\narriv\u00e9s; il nous conta que le dr\u00f4le qui s'\u00e9tait enfui avec le b\u00e2timent\nl'avait vendu au Bengale \u00e0 un ramassis de pirates qui, partis en course,\navaient d\u00e9j\u00e0 pris un navire anglais et deux hollandais tr\u00e8s-richement\ncharg\u00e9s.\nCette derni\u00e8re all\u00e9gation nous concernait directement; et quoiqu'il f\u00fbt\npatent qu'elle \u00e9tait fausse, cependant, comme mon partner le disait\ntr\u00e8s-bien, si nous \u00e9tions tomb\u00e9s entre leurs mains, ces gens avaient\ncontre nous une pr\u00e9vention telle, que c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 en vain que nous nous\nserions d\u00e9fendus, ou que de leur part nous aurions esp\u00e9r\u00e9 quartier. Nos\naccusateurs auraient \u00e9t\u00e9 nos juges: nous n'aurions rien eu \u00e0 en attendre\nque ce que la rage peut dicter et que peut ex\u00e9cuter une col\u00e8re aveugle.\nAussi l'opinion de mon partner fut-elle de retourner en droiture au\nBengale, d'o\u00f9 nous venions, sans rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 aucun port, parce que l\u00e0\nnous pourrions nous justifier, nous pourrions prouver o\u00f9 nous nous\ntrouvions quand le navire \u00e9tait arriv\u00e9, \u00e0 qui nous l'avions achet\u00e9, et\nsurtout, s'il advenait que nous fussions dans la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de porter\nl'affaire devant nos juges naturels, parce que nous pourrions \u00eatre s\u00fbrs\nd'obtenir quelque justice et de ne pas \u00eatre pendus d'abord et jug\u00e9s\napr\u00e8s.\nJe fus quelque temps de l'avis de mon partner; mais apr\u00e8s y avoir song\u00e9\nun peu plus s\u00e9rieusement:--\u00abIl me semble bien dangereux pour nous, lui\ndis-je, de tenter de retourner au Bengale, d'autant que nous sommes en\nde\u00e7\u00e0 du d\u00e9troit de Malacca. Si l'alarme a \u00e9t\u00e9 donn\u00e9e nous pouvons avoir\nla certitude d'y \u00eatre guett\u00e9s par les Hollandais de Batavia et par les\nAnglais; et si nous \u00e9tions en quelque sorte pris en fuite, par l\u00e0 nous\nnous condamnerions nous-m\u00eames: il n'en faudrait pas davantage pour nous\nperdre.--Je demandai au marin anglais son sentiment. Il r\u00e9pondit qu'il\npartageait le mien et que nous serions immanquablement pris.\nCe danger d\u00e9concerta un peu et mon partner et l'\u00e9quipage. Nous\nd\u00e9termin\u00e2mes imm\u00e9diatement d'aller \u00e0 la c\u00f4te de Ton-Kin, puis \u00e0 la\nChine, et l\u00e0, tout en poursuivant notre premier projet, nos op\u00e9rations\ncommerciales, de chercher d'une mani\u00e8re ou d'une autre \u00e0 nous d\u00e9faire de\nnotre navire pour nous en retourner sur le premier vaisseau du pays que\nnous nous procurerions. Nous nous arr\u00eat\u00e2mes \u00e0 ces mesures comme aux plus\nsages, et en cons\u00e9quence nous gouvern\u00e2mes Nord-Nord-Est, nous tenant \u00e0\nplus de cinquante lieues hors de la route ordinaire vers l'Est.\nCe parti pourtant ne laissa pas d'avoir ses inconv\u00e9nients; les vents,\nquand nous f\u00fbmes \u00e0 cette distance de la terre, sembl\u00e8rent nous \u00eatre plus\nconstamment contraires, les moussons, comme on les appelle, soufflant\nEst et Est-Nord-Est; de sorte que, tout mal pourvu de vivres que nous\n\u00e9tions pour un long trajet, nous avions la perspective d'une travers\u00e9e\nlaborieuse; et ce qui \u00e9tait encore pire, nous avions \u00e0 redouter que les\nnavires anglais et hollandais dont les chaloupes nous avaient donn\u00e9 la\nchasse, et dont quelques-uns \u00e9taient destin\u00e9s pour ces parages,\nn'arrivassent avant nous, ou que quelque autre navire charg\u00e9 pour la\nChine, inform\u00e9 de nous par eux, ne nous poursuiv\u00eet avec la m\u00eame vigueur.\nIl faut que je l'avoue, je n'\u00e9tais pas alors \u00e0 mon aise, et je\nm'estimais, depuis que j'avais \u00e9chapp\u00e9 aux chaloupes dans la plus\ndangereuse position o\u00f9 je me fusse trouv\u00e9 de ma vie; en quelque mauvaise\npasse que j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9, je ne m'\u00e9tais jamais vu jusque-l\u00e0 poursuivi comme\nun voleur; je n'avais non plus jamais rien fait qui bless\u00e2t la\nd\u00e9licatesse et la loyaut\u00e9, encore moins qui f\u00fbt contraire \u00e0 l'honneur.\nJ'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 surtout mon propre ennemi, je n'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 m\u00eame, je puis bien\nle dire, hostile \u00e0 personne autre qu'\u00e0 moi. Pourtant je me voyais\nemp\u00eatr\u00e9 dans la plus m\u00e9chante affaire imaginable; car bien que je fusse\nparfaitement innocent, je n'\u00e9tais pas \u00e0 m\u00eame de prouver mon innocence;\npourtant, si j'\u00e9tais pris, je me voyais pr\u00e9venu d'un crime de la pire\nesp\u00e8ce, au moins consid\u00e9r\u00e9 comme tel par les gens auxquels j'avais \u00e0\nfaire.\nJe n'avais qu'une id\u00e9e: chercher notre salut; mais comment? mais dans\nquel port, dans quel lieu? Je ne savais.--Mon partner, qui d'abord avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 plus d\u00e9mont\u00e9 que moi, me voyant ainsi abattu, se prit \u00e0 relever mon\ncourage; et apr\u00e8s m'avoir fait la description des diff\u00e9rents ports de\ncette c\u00f4te, il me dit qu'il \u00e9tait d'avis de rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 la Cochinchine ou\n\u00e0 la baie de Ton-Kin, pour gagner ensuite Macao, ville appartenant\nautrefois aux Portugais, o\u00f9 r\u00e9sident encore beaucoup de familles\neurop\u00e9ennes, et o\u00f9 se rendent d'ordinaire les missionnaires, dans le\ndessein de p\u00e9n\u00e9trer en Chine.\nNous nous range\u00e2mes \u00e0 cet avis, et en cons\u00e9quence, apr\u00e8s une travers\u00e9e\nlente et irr\u00e9guli\u00e8re, durant laquelle nous souffr\u00eemes beaucoup, faute de\nprovisions, nous arriv\u00e2mes en vue de la c\u00f4te de tr\u00e8s-grand matin, et\nfaisant r\u00e9flexion aux circonstances pass\u00e9es et au danger imminent auquel\nnous avions \u00e9chapp\u00e9, nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de rel\u00e2cher dans une petite rivi\u00e8re\nayant toutefois assez de fond pour nous, et de voir si nous ne pourrions\npas, soit par terre, soit avec la pinace du navire, reconna\u00eetre quels\nb\u00e2timents se trouvaient dans les ports d'alentour. Nous d\u00fbmes vraiment\nnotre salut \u00e0 cette heureuse pr\u00e9caution; car si tout d'abord aucun\nnavire europ\u00e9en ne s'offrit \u00e0 nos regards dans la baie de Ton-Kin, le\nlendemain matin il y arriva deux vaisseaux hollandais, et un troisi\u00e8me\nsans pavillon d\u00e9ploy\u00e9, mais que nous cr\u00fbmes appartenir \u00e0 la m\u00eame nation,\npassa environ \u00e0 deux lieues au large, faisant voile pour la c\u00f4te de\nChine. Dans l'apr\u00e8s-midi nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes deux b\u00e2timents anglais, tenant\nla m\u00eame route. Ainsi nous pens\u00e2mes nous voir environn\u00e9s d'ennemis de\ntouts c\u00f4t\u00e9s. Le pays o\u00f9 nous faisions station \u00e9tait sauvage et barbare,\nles naturels voleurs par vocation ou par profession; et bien qu'avec eux\nnous n'eussions gu\u00e8re commerce, et qu'except\u00e9 pour nous procurer des\nvivres nous \u00e9vitassions d'avoir \u00e0 faire \u00e0 eux, ce ne fut pourtant qu'\u00e0\ngrande peine que nous p\u00fbmes nous garder de leurs insultes plusieurs\nfois.\nLa petite rivi\u00e8re o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions n'est distante que de quelques lieues\ndes derni\u00e8res limites septentrionales de ce pays. Avec notre embarcation\nnous c\u00f4toy\u00e2mes au Nord-Est jusqu'\u00e0 la pointe de terre qui ouvre la\ngrande baie de Ton-Kin, et ce fut durant cette reconnaissance que nous\nd\u00e9couvr\u00eemes, comme on sait, les ennemis dont nous \u00e9tions environn\u00e9s. Les\nnaturels chez lesquels nous \u00e9tions sont les plus barbares de touts les\nhabitants de cette c\u00f4te; ils n'ont commerce avec aucune autre nation, et\nvivent seulement de poisson, d'huile, et autres grossiers aliments. Une\npreuve \u00e9vidente de leur barbarie toute particuli\u00e8re, c'est la coutume\nqu'ils ont, lorsqu'un navire a le malheur de naufrager sur leur c\u00f4te, de\nfaire l'\u00e9quipage prisonnier, c'est-\u00e0-dire esclave; et nous ne tard\u00e2mes\npas \u00e0 voir un \u00e9chantillon de leur bont\u00e9 en ce genre \u00e0 l'occasion\nsuivante:\nJ'ai consign\u00e9 ci-dessus que notre navire avait fait une voie d'eau en\nmer, et que nous n'avions pu le d\u00e9couvrir. Bien qu'\u00e0 la fin elle e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9\nbouch\u00e9e aussi inopin\u00e9ment qu'heureusement dans l'instant m\u00eame o\u00f9 nous\nallions \u00eatre captur\u00e9s par les chaloupes hollandaises et anglaises proche\nla baie de Siam, cependant comme nous ne trouvions pas le b\u00e2timent en\naussi bon point que nous l'aurions d\u00e9sir\u00e9, nous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes, tandis que\nnous \u00e9tions en cet endroit, de l'\u00e9chouer au rivage apr\u00e8s avoir retir\u00e9 le\npeu de choses lourdes que nous avions \u00e0 bord, pour nettoyer et r\u00e9parer\nla car\u00e8ne, et, s'il \u00e9tait possible, trouver o\u00f9 s'\u00e9tait fait le\nd\u00e9chirement.\nEn cons\u00e9quence, ayant all\u00e9g\u00e9 le b\u00e2timent et mis touts les canons et les\nautres objets mobiles d'un seul c\u00f4t\u00e9, nous f\u00eemes de notre mieux pour le\nmettre \u00e0 la bande, afin de parvenir jusqu'\u00e0 la quille; car, toute\nr\u00e9flexion faite, nous ne nous \u00e9tions pas souci\u00e9s de l'\u00e9chouer \u00e0 sec:\nnous n'avions pu trouver une place convenable pour cela.\nLes habitants, qui n'avaient jamais assist\u00e9 \u00e0 un pareil spectacle,\ndescendirent \u00e9merveill\u00e9s au rivage pour nous regarder; et voyant le\nvaisseau ainsi abattu, inclin\u00e9 vers la rive, et ne d\u00e9couvrant point nos\nhommes qui, de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, sur des \u00e9chafaudages et dans les\nembarcations travaillaient \u00e0 la car\u00e8ne, ils s'imagin\u00e8rent qu'il avait\nfait naufrage et se trouvait profond\u00e9ment engrav\u00e9.\nDans cette supposition, au bout de deux ou trois heures et avec dix ou\ndouze grandes barques qui contenaient les unes huit, les autres dix\nhommes, ils se r\u00e9unirent pr\u00e8s de nous, se promettant sans doute de venir\n\u00e0 bord, de piller le navire, et, s'ils nous y trouvaient, de nous mener\ncomme esclaves \u00e0 leur Roi ou Capitaine, car nous ne s\u00fbmes point qui les\ngouvernait.\nQuand ils s'approch\u00e8rent du b\u00e2timent et commenc\u00e8rent de ramer \u00e0\nl'entour, ils nous apper\u00e7urent touts fort embesogn\u00e9s apr\u00e8s la car\u00e8ne,\nnettoyant, calfatant et donnant le suif, comme tout marin sait que cela\nse pratique.\nIls s'arr\u00eat\u00e8rent quelque temps \u00e0 nous contempler. Dans notre surprise\nnous ne pouvions concevoir quel \u00e9tait leur dessein; mais, \u00e0 tout\n\u00e9v\u00e8nement, profitant de ce loisir, nous f\u00eemes entrer quelques-uns des\nn\u00f4tres dans le navire, et passer des armes et des munitions \u00e0 ceux qui\ntravaillaient, afin qu'ils pussent se d\u00e9fendre au besoin. Et ce ne fut\npas hors de propos; car apr\u00e8s tout au plus un quart d'heure de\nd\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, concluant sans doute que le vaisseau \u00e9tait r\u00e9ellement\nnaufrag\u00e9, que nous \u00e9tions \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre pour essayer de le sauver et de nous\nsauver nous-m\u00eames \u00e0 l'aide de nos embarcations, et, quand on transporta\nnos armes, que nous t\u00e2chions de faire le sauvetage de nos marchandises,\nils pos\u00e8rent en fait que nous leur \u00e9tions \u00e9chus et s'avanc\u00e8rent droit\nsur nous, comme en ligne de bataille.\nCOMBAT \u00c0 LA POIX\n\u00c0 la vue de cette multitude, la position vraiment n'\u00e9tait pas tenable,\nnos hommes commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 s'effrayer, et se mirent \u00e0 nous crier qu'ils\nne savaient que faire. Je commandai aussit\u00f4t \u00e0 ceux qui travaillaient\nsur les \u00e9chafaudages de descendre, de rentrer dans le b\u00e2timent, et \u00e0\nceux qui montaient les chaloupes de revenir. Quant \u00e0 nous, qui \u00e9tions \u00e0\nbord, nous employ\u00e2mes toutes nos forces pour redresser le b\u00e2timent. Ni\nceux de l'\u00e9chafaudage cependant, ni ceux des embarcations, ne purent\nex\u00e9cuter ces ordres avant d'avoir sur les bras les Cochinchinois qui,\navec deux de leurs barques, se jetaient d\u00e9j\u00e0 sur notre chaloupe pour\nfaire nos hommes prisonniers.\nLe premier dont ils se saisirent \u00e9tait un matelot anglais, un hardi et\nsolide compagnon. Il tenait un mousquet \u00e0 la main; mais, au lieu de\nfaire feu, il le d\u00e9posa dans la chaloupe: je le crus fou. Le dr\u00f4le\nentendait mieux que moi son affaire; car il agrippa un payen, le tira\nviolemment de sa barque dans la n\u00f4tre, puis, le prenant par les deux\noreilles, lui cogna la t\u00eate si rudement contre le plat-bord, que le\ncamarade lui resta dans les mains. Sur l'entrefaite un Hollandais qui se\ntrouvait \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 ramassa, le mousquet, et avec la crosse man\u0153uvra si bien\nautour de lui, qu'il terrassa cinq barbares au moment o\u00f9 ils tentaient\nd'entrer dans la chaloupe. Mais qu'\u00e9tait tout cela pour r\u00e9sister \u00e0\nquarante ou cinquante hommes qui, intr\u00e9pidement, ne se m\u00e9fiant pas du\ndanger, commen\u00e7aient \u00e0 se pr\u00e9cipiter dans la chaloupe, d\u00e9fendue par cinq\nmatelots seulement! Toutefois un incident qui nous appr\u00eata surtout \u00e0\nrire, procura \u00e0 nos gens une victoire compl\u00e8te. Voici ce que c'est:\nNotre charpentier, en train de donner un suif \u00e0 l'ext\u00e9rieur du navire et\nde brayer les coutures qu'il avait calfat\u00e9es pour boucher les voies,\nvenait justement de faire descendre dans la chaloupe deux chaudi\u00e8res,\nl'une pleine de poix bouillante, l'autre de r\u00e9sine, de suif, d'huile et\nd'autres mati\u00e8res dont on fait usage pour ces op\u00e9rations, et le gar\u00e7on\nqui servait notre charpentier avait justement \u00e0 la main une grande\ncuill\u00e8re de fer avec laquelle il passait aux travailleurs la mati\u00e8re en\nfusion, quand, par les \u00e9coutes d'avant, \u00e0 l'endroit m\u00eame o\u00f9 se trouvait\nce gar\u00e7on, deux de nos ennemis entr\u00e8rent dans la chaloupe. Le drille\naussit\u00f4t les salua d'une cuiller\u00e9e de poix bouillante qui les grilla et\nles \u00e9chauda si bien, d'autant qu'ils \u00e9taient \u00e0 moiti\u00e9 nus, qu'exasp\u00e9r\u00e9s\npar leurs br\u00fblures, ils saut\u00e8rent \u00e0 la mer beuglant comme deux taureaux.\n\u00c0 ce coup le charpentier s'\u00e9cria:--\u00abBien jou\u00e9, Jack! bravo, va\ntoujours.\u00bb--Puis s'avan\u00e7ant lui-m\u00eame il prend un guipon, et le plongeant\ndans la chaudi\u00e8re \u00e0 la poix, lui et son aide en envoient une telle\nprofusion, que, bref, dans trois barques, il n'y eut pas un assaillant\nqui ne f\u00fbt roussi et br\u00fbl\u00e9 d'une mani\u00e8re piteuse, d'une mani\u00e8re\neffroyable, et ne pouss\u00e2t des cris et des hurlements tels que de ma vie\nje n'avais ou\u00ef un plus horrible vacarme, voire m\u00eame rien de semblable;\ncar bien que la douleur, et c'est une chose digne de remarque, fasse\nnaturellement jeter des cris \u00e0 touts les \u00eatres, cependant chaque nation\na un mode particulier d'exclamation et ses vocif\u00e9rations \u00e0 elle comme\nelle a son langage \u00e0 elle. Je ne saurais, aux clameurs de ces cr\u00e9atures,\ndonner un nom ni plus juste ni plus exact que celui de hurlement. Je\nn'ai vraiment jamais rien ou\u00ef qui en approch\u00e2t plus que les rumeurs des\nloups que j'entendis hurler, comme on sait, dans la for\u00eat, sur les\nfronti\u00e8res du Languedoc.\nJamais victoire ne me fit plus de plaisir, non-seulement parce qu'elle\n\u00e9tait pour moi inopin\u00e9e et qu'elle nous tirait d'un p\u00e9ril imminent, mais\nencore parce que nous l'avions remport\u00e9e sans avoir r\u00e9pandu d'autre sang\nque celui de ce pauvre diable qu'un de nos drilles avait d\u00e9p\u00each\u00e9 de ses\nmains, \u00e0 mon regret toutefois, car je souffrais de voir tuer de pareils\nmis\u00e9rables Sauvages, m\u00eame en cas de personnelle d\u00e9fense, dans la\npersuasion o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais qu'ils croyaient ne faire rien que de juste, et\nn'en savaient pas plus long. Et, bien que ce meurtre p\u00fbt \u00eatre\njustifiable parce qu'il avait \u00e9t\u00e9 n\u00e9cessaire et qu'il n'y a point de\ncrime n\u00e9cessaire dans la nature, je n'en pensais pas moins que c'est l\u00e0\nune triste vie que celle o\u00f9 il nous faut sans cesse tuer nos semblables\npour notre propre conservation, et, de fait, je pense ainsi toujours;\nm\u00eame aujourd'hui j'aimerais mieux souffrir beaucoup que d'\u00f4ter la vie \u00e0\nl'\u00eatre le plus vil qui m'outragerait. Tout homme judicieux, et qui\nconna\u00eet la valeur d'une vie, sera de mon sentiment, j'en ai l'assurance,\ns'il r\u00e9fl\u00e9chit s\u00e9rieusement.\nMais pour en revenir \u00e0 mon histoire, durant cette \u00e9chauffour\u00e9e mon\npartner et moi, qui dirigions le reste de l'\u00e9quipage \u00e0 bord, nous avions\nfort dextrement redress\u00e9 le navire ou \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s; et, quand nous e\u00fbmes\nremis les canons en place, le canonner me pria d'ordonner \u00e0 notre\nchaloupe de se retirer, parce qu'il voulait envoyer une bord\u00e9e \u00e0\nl'ennemi. Je lui dis de s'en donner de garde, de ne point mettre en\nbatterie, que sans lui le charpentier ferait la besogne; je le chargeai\nseulement de faire chauffer une autre chaudi\u00e8re de poix, ce dont, prit\nsoin notre Cook qui se trouvait \u00e0 bord. Mais nos assaillants \u00e9taient si\natterr\u00e9s de leur premi\u00e8re rencontre, qu'ils ne se souci\u00e8rent pas de\nrevenir. Quant \u00e0 ceux de nos ennemis qui s'\u00e9taient trouv\u00e9s hors\nd'atteinte, voyant le navire \u00e0 flot, et pour ainsi dire debout, ils\ncommenc\u00e8rent, nous le suppos\u00e2mes du moins, \u00e0 s'appercevoir de leur b\u00e9vue\net \u00e0 renoncer \u00e0 l'entreprise, trouvant que ce n'\u00e9tait pas l\u00e0 du tout ce\nqu'ils s'\u00e9taient promis.--C'est ainsi que nous sort\u00eemes de cette\nplaisante bataille; et comme deux jours auparavant nous avions port\u00e9 \u00e0\nbord du riz, des racines, du pain et une quinzaine de pourceaux gras,\nnous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de ne pas demeurer l\u00e0 plus long-temps, et de remettre en\nmer quoi qu'il en p\u00fbt advenir; car nous ne doutions pas d'\u00eatre\nenvironn\u00e9s, le jour suivant, d'un si grand nombre de ces marauds, que\nnotre chaudi\u00e8re de poix n'y pourrait suffire.\nEn cons\u00e9quence tout fut replac\u00e9 \u00e0 bord le soir m\u00eame, et d\u00e8s le matin\nnous \u00e9tions pr\u00eats \u00e0 partir. Dans ces entrefaites, comme nous avions\nmouill\u00e9 l'ancre \u00e0 quelque distance du rivage, nous f\u00fbmes bien moins\ninquiets: nous \u00e9tions alors en position de combattre et de courir au\nlarge si quelque ennemi se f\u00fbt pr\u00e9sent\u00e9. Le lendemain, apr\u00e8s avoir\ntermin\u00e9 \u00e0 bord notre besogne, toutes les voies se trouvant parfaitement\n\u00e9tanch\u00e9es, nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 la voile. Nous aurions bien voulu aller dans la\nbaie de Ton-Kin, d\u00e9sireux que nous \u00e9tions d'obtenir quelques\nrenseignements sur ces b\u00e2timents hollandais qui y \u00e9taient entr\u00e9s; mais\nnous n'os\u00e2mes pas, \u00e0 cause que nous avions vu peu auparavant plusieurs\nnavires qui s'y rendaient, \u00e0 ce que nous suppos\u00e2mes. Nous cingl\u00e2mes donc\nau Nord-Est, \u00e0 dessein de toucher \u00e0 l'\u00eele Formose, ne redoutait pas\nmoins d'\u00eatre apper\u00e7u par un b\u00e2timent marchand hollandais ou anglais\nqu'un navire hollandais ou anglais ne redoute de l'\u00eatre dans la\nM\u00e9diterran\u00e9e par un vaisseau de guerre alg\u00e9rien.\nQuand nous e\u00fbmes gagn\u00e9 la haute mer nous t\u00eenmes toujours au Nord-Est\ncomme si nous voulions aller aux Manilles ou \u00eeles Philippines, ce que\nnous f\u00eemes pour ne pas tomber dans la route des vaisseaux europ\u00e9ens;\npuis nous gouvern\u00e2mes au Nord jusqu'\u00e0 ce que nous fussions par 22 degr\u00e9s\n20 minutes de latitude, de sorte que nous arriv\u00e2mes directement \u00e0 l'\u00eele\nFormose, o\u00f9 nous jet\u00e2mes l'ancre pour faire de l'eau et des provisions\nfra\u00eeches. L\u00e0 les habitants, qui sont tr\u00e8s-courtois et tr\u00e8s-civils dans\nleurs mani\u00e8res, vinrent au-devant de nos besoins et en us\u00e8rent\ntr\u00e8s-honn\u00eatement et tr\u00e8s-loyalement avec nous dans toutes leurs\nrelations et touts leurs march\u00e9s, ce que nous n'avions pas trouv\u00e9 dans\nl'autre peuple, ce qui peut-\u00eatre est d\u00fb au reste du christianisme\nautrefois plant\u00e9 dans cette \u00eele par une mission de protestants\nhollandais: preuve nouvelle de ce que j'ai souvent observ\u00e9, que la\nreligion chr\u00e9tienne partout o\u00f9 elle est re\u00e7ue civilise toujours les\nhommes et r\u00e9forme leurs m\u0153urs, qu'elle op\u00e8re ou non leur sanctification.\nDe l\u00e0 nous continu\u00e2mes \u00e0 faire route au Nord, nous tenant toujours \u00e0 la\nm\u00eame distance de la c\u00f4te de Chine, jusqu'\u00e0 ce que nous eussions pass\u00e9\ntouts les ports fr\u00e9quent\u00e9s par les navires europ\u00e9ens, r\u00e9solus que nous\n\u00e9tions autant que possible \u00e0 ne pas nous laisser prendre, surtout dans\ncette contr\u00e9e, o\u00f9, vu notre position, c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 fait de nous\ninfailliblement. Pour ma part, j'avais une telle peur d'\u00eatre captur\u00e9,\nque, je le crois fermement, j'eusse pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 de beaucoup tomber entre les\nmains de l'inquisition espagnole[22].\n\u00c9tant alors parvenus \u00e0 la latitude de 30 degr\u00e9s, nous nous d\u00e9termin\u00e2mes\n\u00e0 entrer dans le premier port de commerce que nous trouverions. Tandis\nque nous rallions la terre, une barque vint nous joindre \u00e0 deux lieues\nau large, ayant \u00e0 bord un vieux pilote portugais, qui, nous ayant\nreconnu pour un b\u00e2timent europ\u00e9en, venait nous offrir ses services. Nous\nf\u00fbmes ravis de sa proposition; nous le pr\u00eemes \u00e0 bord, et l\u00e0-dessus, sans\nnous demander o\u00f9 nous voulions aller, il cong\u00e9dia la barque sur laquelle\nil \u00e9tait venu.\nBien persuad\u00e9 qu'il nous \u00e9tait loisible alors de nous faire mener par ce\nvieux homme o\u00f9 bon nous semblerait, je lui parlai tout d'abord de nous\nconduire au golfe de Nanking, dans la partie la plus septentrionale de\nla c\u00f4te de Chine. Le bon homme nous dit qu'il connaissait fort bien le\ngolfe de Nanking; mais, en souriant, il nous demanda ce que nous y\ncomptions faire.\nJe lui r\u00e9pondis que nous voulions y vendre notre cargaison, y acheter\ndes porcelaines, des calicots, des soies \u00e9crues, du th\u00e9, des soies\nouvr\u00e9es, puis nous en retourner par la m\u00eame route.--\u00abEn ce cas, nous\ndit-il, ce serait bien mieux votre affaire de rel\u00e2cher \u00e0 Macao, o\u00f9 vous\nne pourriez manquer de vous d\u00e9faire avantageusement de votre opium, et\no\u00f9, avec votre argent, vous pourriez acheter toute esp\u00e8ce de\nmarchandises chinoises \u00e0 aussi bon march\u00e9 qu'\u00e0 Nanking.\u00bb\nDans l'impossibilit\u00e9 de d\u00e9tourner le bon homme de ce sentiment dont il\n\u00e9tait fort ent\u00eat\u00e9 et fort engou\u00e9, je lui dis que nous \u00e9tions _gentlemen_\naussi bien que n\u00e9gociants, et que nous avions envie d'aller voir la\ngrande cit\u00e9 de P\u00e9king et la fameuse Cour du monarque de la\nChine.--\u00abAlors, reprit-il, il faut aller \u00e0 Ningpo, d'o\u00f9, par le fleuve\nqui se jette l\u00e0 dans la mer, vous gagnerez, au bout de cinq lieues, le\ngrand canal. Ce canal, partout navigable, traverse le c\u0153ur de tout le\nvaste empire chinois, coupe toutes les rivi\u00e8res, franchit plusieurs\nmontagnes consid\u00e9rables au moyen d'\u00e9cluses et de portes, et s'avance\njusqu'\u00e0 la ville de P\u00e9king, apr\u00e8s un cours de deux cent soixante-dix\nlieues.\u00bb\n--\u00abFort bien, senhor Portuguez, r\u00e9pondis-je; mais ce n'est pas l\u00e0 notre\naffaire maintenant: la grande question est de savoir s'il vous est\npossible de nous conduire \u00e0 la ville de Nanking, d'o\u00f9 plus tard nous\nnous rendrions \u00e0 P\u00e9king.\u00bb--Il me dit que Oui, que c'\u00e9tait pour lui chose\nfacile, et qu'un gros navire hollandais venait justement de prendre la\nm\u00eame route. Ceci me causa quelque trouble: un vaisseau hollandais \u00e9tait\npour lors notre terreur, et nous eussions pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e9 rencontrer le diable\npourvu qu'il ne f\u00fbt pas venu sous une figure trop effroyable. Nous\navions la persuasion qu'un b\u00e2timent hollandais serait notre ruine; nous\nn'\u00e9tions pas de taille \u00e0 nous mesurer: touts les vaisseaux qui\ntrafiquent dans ces parages \u00e9tant d'un port consid\u00e9rable et d'une\nbeaucoup plus grande force que nous.\nLe bon homme s'apper\u00e7ut de mon trouble et de mon embarras quand il me\nparla du navire hollandais, et il me dit:\n--\u00abSir, vous n'avez rien \u00e0 redouter des Hollandais, je ne suppose pas\nqu'ils soient en guerre aujourd'hui avec votre nation.\u00bb--\u00abNon, dis-je,\nil est vrai; mais je ne sais quelles libert\u00e9s les hommes se peuvent\ndonner lorsqu'ils sont hors de la port\u00e9e des lois de leurs pays.\u00bb--\u00abEh\nquoi! reprit-il, vous n'\u00eates pas des pirates, que craignez-vous? \u00c0 coup\ns\u00fbr on ne s'attaquera pas \u00e0 de paisibles n\u00e9gociants.\u00bb\nLE VIEUX PILOTE PORTUGAIS\nSi, \u00e0 ces mots, tout mon sang ne me monta pas au visage, c'est que\nquelque obstruction l'arr\u00eata dans les vaisseaux que la nature a destin\u00e9s\n\u00e0 sa circulation.--Jet\u00e9 dans la derni\u00e8re confusion, je dissimulai mal,\net le bon homme s'apper\u00e7ut ais\u00e9ment de mon d\u00e9sordre.\n--\u00abSir, me dit-il, je vois que je d\u00e9concerte vos mesures: je vous en\nprie, s'il vous pla\u00eet, fa\u00eetes ce que bon vous semble, et croyez bien que\nje vous servirai de toutes mes forces.\u00bb--\u00abOui, cela est vrai, Senhor,\nr\u00e9pondis-je, maintenant je suis quelque peu \u00e9branl\u00e9 dans ma r\u00e9solution,\nje ne sais o\u00f9 je dois aller, d'autant surtout que vous avez parl\u00e9 de\npirates. J'ose esp\u00e9rer qu'il n'y en a pas dans ces mers; nous serions en\nfort mauvaise position: vous le voyez, notre navire n'est pas de\nhaut-bord et n'est que faiblement \u00e9quip\u00e9.\u00bb\n\u00abOh! Sir, s'\u00e9cria-t-il, tranquillisez-vous; je ne sache pas qu'aucun\npirate ait paru dans ces mers depuis quinze ans, un seul except\u00e9, qui a\n\u00e9t\u00e9 vu, \u00e0 ce que j'ai ou\u00ef dire, dans la baie de Siam il y a environ un\nmois; mais vous pouvez \u00eatre certain qu'il est parti pour le Sud;\nd'ailleurs ce b\u00e2timent n'est ni formidable ni propre \u00e0 son m\u00e9tier; il\nn'a pas \u00e9t\u00e9 construit pour faire la course; il a \u00e9t\u00e9 enlev\u00e9 par un tas\nde coquins qui se trouvaient \u00e0 bord, apr\u00e8s que le capitaine et\nquelques-uns de ses hommes eurent \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s par des Malais \u00e0 ou pr\u00e8s\nl'\u00eele de Sumatra.\u00bb\n\u00abQuoi! dis-je, faisant semblant de ne rien savoir de cette affaire, ils\nont assassin\u00e9 leur capitaine?\u00bb--\u00abNon, reprit-il, je ne pr\u00e9tends pas\nqu'ils l'aient massacr\u00e9; mais comme apr\u00e8s le coup ils se sont enfuis\navec le navire, on croit g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement qu'ils l'ont livr\u00e9 par trahison\nentre les mains de ces Malais qui l'\u00e9gorg\u00e8rent, et que sans doute ils\navaient apost\u00e9s pour cela.\u00bb--\u00abAlors, m'\u00e9criai-je, ils ont m\u00e9rit\u00e9 la mort\ntout autant que s'ils avaient frapp\u00e9 eux-m\u00eames.\u00bb--\u00abOui-da, repartit le\nbon homme ils l'ont m\u00e9rit\u00e9e et pour certain ils l'auront s'ils sont\nd\u00e9couverts par quelque navire anglais ou hollandais; car touts sont\nconvenus s'ils rencontrent ces brigands de ne leur point donner de\nquartier.\u00bb\n--\u00abMais, lui fis-je observer, puisque vous dites que le pirate a quitt\u00e9\nces mers, comment pourraient-ils le rencontrer?\u00bb--\u00abOui vraiment,\nr\u00e9pliqua-t-il, on assure qu'il est parti; ce qu'il y a de certain\ntoutefois, comme je vous l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, c'est qu'il est entr\u00e9 il y a\nenviron un mois, dans la baie de Siam, dans la rivi\u00e8re de Camboge, et\nque l\u00e0, d\u00e9couvert par des Hollandais, qui avaient fait partie de\nl'\u00e9quipage et qui avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 abandonn\u00e9s \u00e0 terre quand leurs compagnons\ns'\u00e9taient enfuis avec le navire, peu s'en est fallu qu'il ne soit tomb\u00e9\nentre les mains de quelques marchands anglais et hollandais mouill\u00e9s\ndans la m\u00eame rivi\u00e8re. Si leurs premi\u00e8res embarcations avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 bien\nsecond\u00e9es on l'aurait infailliblement captur\u00e9; mais ne se voyant\nharcel\u00e9s que par deux chaloupes, il vira vent devant, fit feu dessus,\nles d\u00e9sempara avant que les autres fussent arriv\u00e9es, puis, gagnant la\nhaute mer, leur fit lever la chasse et disparut. Comme ils ont une\ndescription exacte du navire, ils sont s\u00fbrs de le reconna\u00eetre, et\npartout o\u00f9 ils le trouveront ils ont jur\u00e9 de ne faire aucun quartier ni\nau capitaine ni \u00e0 ses hommes et de les pendre touts \u00e0 la grande vergue.\u00bb\n--\u00abQuoi! m'\u00e9criai-je, ils les ex\u00e9cuteront \u00e0 tort ou \u00e0 droit? Ils les\npendront d'abord et les jugeront ensuite?\u00bb--\u00abBon Dieu! Sir, r\u00e9pondit le\nvieux pilote, qu'est-il besoin de formalit\u00e9s avec de pareils coquins?\nQu'on les lie dos \u00e0 dos et qu'on les jette \u00e0 la mer, c'est l\u00e0 tout ce\nqu'ils m\u00e9ritent.\u00bb\nSentant le bon homme entre mes mains et dans l'impossibilit\u00e9 de me\nnuire, je l'interrompis brusquement:--\u00abFort bien, Senhor, lui dis-je, et\nvoil\u00e0 justement pourquoi je veux que vous nous meniez \u00e0 Nanking et ne\nveux pas rebrousser vers Macao ou tout autre parage fr\u00e9quent\u00e9 par les\nb\u00e2timents anglais ou hollandais; car, sachez, Senhor, que messieurs les\ncapitaines de vaisseaux sont un tas de malavis\u00e9s, d'orgueilleux,\nd'insolents personnages qui ne savent ce que c'est que la justice, ce\nque c'est que de se conduire selon les lois de Dieu et la nature; fiers\nde leur office et n'entendant goutte \u00e0 leur pouvoir pour punir des\nvoleurs, ils se font assassins; ils prennent sur eux d'outrager des gens\nfaussement accus\u00e9s et de les d\u00e9clarer coupables sans enqu\u00eate l\u00e9gale;\nmais si Dieu me pr\u00eate vie je leur en ferai rendre compte, je leur ferai\napprendre comment la justice veut \u00eatre administr\u00e9e, et qu'on ne doit pas\ntraiter un homme comme un criminel avant que d'avoir quelque preuve et\ndu crime et de la culpabilit\u00e9 de cet homme.\u00bb\nSur ce, je lui d\u00e9clarai que notre navire \u00e9tait celui-l\u00e0 m\u00eame que ces\nmessieurs avaient attaqu\u00e9; je lui exposai tout au long l'escarmouche que\nnous avions eue avec leurs chaloupes et la sottise et la couardise de\nleur conduite; je lui contai toute l'histoire de l'acquisition du navire\net comment le Hollandais nous avait pr\u00e9sent\u00e9 la chose; je lui dis les\nraisons que j'avais de ne pas ajouter foi \u00e0 l'assassinat du capitaine\npar les Malais, non plus qu'au rapt du navire; que ce n'\u00e9tait qu'une\nfable du cr\u00fb de ces messieurs pour insinuer que l'\u00e9quipage s'\u00e9tait fait\npirate; qu'apr\u00e8s tout ces messieurs auraient d\u00fb au moins s'assurer du\nfait avant de nous attaquer au d\u00e9pourvu et de nous contraindre \u00e0 leur\nr\u00e9sister:--\u00abIls auront \u00e0 r\u00e9pondre, ajoutai-je, du sang des hommes que\ndans notre l\u00e9gitime d\u00e9fense nous avons tu\u00e9s!\u00bb\n\u00c9bahi \u00e0 ce discours, le bon homme nous dit que nous avions furieusement\nraison de gagner le Nord, et que, s'il avait un conseil \u00e0 nous donner,\nce serait de vendre notre b\u00e2timent en Chine, chose facile, puis d'en\nconstruire ou d'en acheter un autre dans ce pays:--\u00abAssur\u00e9ment,\najouta-t-il, vous n'en trouverez pas d'aussi bon que le v\u00f4tre; mais vous\npourrez vous en procurer un plus que suffisant pour vous ramener vous et\ntoutes vos marchandises au Bengale, ou partout ailleurs.\u00bb\nJe lui dis que j'userais de son avis quand nous arriverions dans quelque\nport o\u00f9 je pourrais trouver un b\u00e2timent pour mon retour ou quelque\nchaland qui voul\u00fbt acheter le mien. Il m'assura qu'\u00e0 Nanking les\nacqu\u00e9reurs afflueraient; que pour m'en revenir une jonque chinoise\nferait parfaitement mon affaire; et qu'il me procurerait des gens qui\nm'ach\u00e8teraient l'un et qui me vendraient l'autre.\n--\u00abSoit! Senhor, repris-je; mais comme vous dites que ces messieurs\nconnaissent si bien mon navire, en suivant vos conseils, je pourrai\njeter d'honn\u00eates et braves gens dans un affreux gu\u00eapier et peut-\u00eatre les\nfaire \u00e9gorger inopin\u00e9ment; car partout o\u00f9 ces messieurs rencontreront le\nnavire il leur suffira de le reconna\u00eetre pour impliquer l'\u00e9quipage:\nainsi d'innocentes cr\u00e9atures seraient surprises et massacr\u00e9es.\u00bb--\u00abNon,\nnon, dit le bon homme, j'aviserai au moyen de pr\u00e9venir ce malencontre:\ncomme je connais touts ces commandants dont vous parlez et que je les\nverrai touts quand ils passeront, j'aurai soin de leur exposer la chose\nsous son vrai jour, et de leur d\u00e9montrer l'\u00e9normit\u00e9 de leur m\u00e9prise; je\nleur dirai que s'il est vrai que les hommes de l'ancien \u00e9quipage se\nsoient enfuis avec le navire, il est faux pourtant qu'ils se soient\nfaits pirates; et que ceux qu'ils ont assaillis vers Camboge ne sont pas\nceux qui autrefois enlev\u00e8rent le navire, mais de braves gens qui l'ont\nachet\u00e9 innocemment pour leur commerce: et je suis persuad\u00e9 qu'ils\najouteront foi \u00e0 mes paroles, assez du moins pour agir avec plus de\ndiscr\u00e9tion \u00e0 l'avenir.\u00bb--\u00abBravo, lui dis-je, et voulez-vous leur\nremettre un message de ma part?\u00bb--\u00abOui, volontiers, me r\u00e9pondit-il, si\nvous me le donnez par \u00e9crit et sign\u00e9, afin que je puisse leur prouver\nqu'il vient de vous, qu'il n'est pas de mon cr\u00fb.\u00bb--Me rendant \u00e0 son\nd\u00e9sir, sur-le-champ je pris une plume, de l'encre et du papier, et je me\nmis \u00e0 \u00e9crire sur l'\u00e9chauffour\u00e9e des chaloupes, sur la pr\u00e9tendue raison\nde cet injuste et cruel outrage, un long factum o\u00f9 je d\u00e9clarais en somme\n\u00e0 ces messieurs les commandants qu'ils avaient fait une chose honteuse,\net que, si jamais ils reparaissaient en Angleterre et que je v\u00e9cusse\nassez pour les y voir, ils la paieraient cher, \u00e0 moins que durant mon\nabsence les lois de ma patrie ne fussent tomb\u00e9es en d\u00e9su\u00e9tude.\nMon vieux pilote lut et relut ce manifeste et me demanda \u00e0 plusieurs\nreprises si j'\u00e9tais pr\u00eat \u00e0 soutenir ce que j'y avan\u00e7ais. Je lui r\u00e9pondis\nque je le maintiendrais tant qu'il me resterait quelque chose au monde,\ndans la conviction o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais que t\u00f4t ou tard je devais la trouver belle\npour ma revanche. Mais je n'eus pas l'occasion d'envoyer le pilote\nporter ce message, car il ne s'en retourna point[23]. Tandis que tout\nceci se passait entre nous, par mani\u00e8re d'entretien, nous avancions\ndirectement vers Nanking, et au bout d'environ treize jours de\nnavigation, nous v\u00eenmes jeter l'ancre \u00e0 la pointe Sud-Ouest du grand\ngolfe de ce nom, o\u00f9 j'appris par hasard que deux b\u00e2timents hollandais\n\u00e9taient arriv\u00e9s quelque temps avant moi, et qu'infailliblement je\ntomberais entre leurs mains. Dans cette conjoncture, je consultai de\nnouveau mon partner; il \u00e9tait aussi embarrass\u00e9 que moi, et aurait bien\nvoulu descendre sain et sauf \u00e0 terre, n'importe o\u00f9. Comme ma perplexit\u00e9\nne me troublait pas \u00e0 ce point, je demandai au vieux pilote s'il n'y\navait pas quelque crique, quelque havre o\u00f9 je pusse entrer, pour traiter\nsecr\u00e8tement avec les Chinois sans \u00eatre en danger de l'ennemi. Il me dit\nque si je voulais faire encore quarante-deux lieues au Sud nous\ntrouverions un petit port nomm\u00e9 Quinchang, o\u00f9 les P\u00e8res de la Mission\nd\u00e9barquaient d'ordinaire en venant de Macao, pour aller enseigner la\nreligion chr\u00e9tienne aux Chinois, et o\u00f9 les navires europ\u00e9ens ne se\nmontraient jamais; et que, si je jugeais \u00e0 propos de m'y rendre, l\u00e0,\nquand j'aurais mis pied \u00e0 terre, je pourrais prendre tout \u00e0 loisir une\nd\u00e9cision ult\u00e9rieure.--\u00abJ'avoue, ajouta-t-il, que ce n'est pas une place\nmarchande, cependant \u00e0 certaines \u00e9poques il s'y tient une sorte de\nfoire, o\u00f9 les n\u00e9gociants japonais viennent acheter des marchandises\nchinoises.\u00bb\nNous f\u00fbmes touts d'avis de gagner ce port, dont peut-\u00eatre j'\u00e9cris le nom\nde travers; je ne puis au juste me le rappeler l'ayant perdu ainsi que\nplusieurs autres notes sur un petit livre de poche que l'eau me g\u00e2ta,\ndans un accident que je relaterai en son lieu; je me souviens seulement\nque les n\u00e9gociants chinois et japonais avec lesquels nous entr\u00e2mes en\nrelation lui donnaient un autre nom que notre pilote portugais, et\nqu'ils le pronon\u00e7aient comme ci-dessus Quinchang.\nUnanimes dans notre r\u00e9solution de nous rendre \u00e0 cette place, nous\nlev\u00e2mes l'ancre le jour suivant; nous \u00e9tions all\u00e9s deux fois \u00e0 terre\npour prendre de l'eau fra\u00eeche, et dans ces deux occasions les habitants\ndu pays s'\u00e9taient montr\u00e9s tr\u00e8s-civils envers nous, et nous avaient\napport\u00e9 une profusion de choses, c'est-\u00e0-dire de provisions, de plantes,\nde racines, de th\u00e9, de riz et d'oiseaux; mais rien sans argent.\nLe vent \u00e9tant contraire, nous n'arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 Quinchang qu'au bout de cinq\njours; mais notre satisfaction n'en fut pas moins vive. Transport\u00e9 de\njoie, et, je puis bien le dire, de reconnaissance envers le Ciel, quand\nje posai le pied sur le rivage, je fis serment ainsi que mon partner,\ns'il nous \u00e9tait possible de disposer de nous et de nos marchandises\nd'une mani\u00e8re quelconque, m\u00eame d\u00e9savantageuse, de ne jamais remonter \u00e0\nbord de ce navire de malheur. Oui, il me faut ici le reconna\u00eetre, de\ntoutes les circonstances de la vie dont j'ai fait quelque exp\u00e9rience,\nnulle ne rend l'homme si compl\u00e8tement mis\u00e9rable qu'une crainte\ncontinuelle. L'\u00c9criture dit avec raison:--\u00abL'effroi que con\u00e7oit un homme\nlui tend un pi\u00e8ge.\u00bb C'est une mort dans la vie; elle oppresse tellement\nl'\u00e2me qu'elle la plonge dans l'inertie; elle \u00e9touffe les esprits animaux\net abat toute cette vigueur naturelle qui soutient ordinairement l'homme\ndans ses afflictions, et qu'il retrouve toujours dans les plus grandes\nperplexit\u00e9s[24].\nARRIV\u00c9E \u00c0 QUINCHANG\nCe sentiment qui grossit le danger ne manqua pas son effet ordinaire sur\nnotre imagination en nous repr\u00e9sentant les capitaines anglais et\nhollandais comme des gens incapables d'entendre raison, de distinguer\nl'honn\u00eate homme d'avec le coquin, de discerner une histoire en l'air,\ncalcul\u00e9e pour nous nuire et dans le dessein de tromper, d'avec le r\u00e9cit\nsimple et vrai de tout notre voyage, de nos op\u00e9rations et de nos\nprojets; car nous avions cent moyens de convaincre toute cr\u00e9ature\nraisonnable que nous n'\u00e9tions pas des pirates: notre cargaison, la route\nque nous tenions, la franchise avec laquelle nous nous montrions et nous\n\u00e9tions entr\u00e9s dans tel et tel port, la forme et la faiblesse de notre\nb\u00e2timent, le nombre de nos hommes, la paucit\u00e9[25] de nos armes, la\npetite quantit\u00e9 de nos munitions, la raret\u00e9 de nos vivres, n'\u00e9tait-ce\npas l\u00e0 tout autant de t\u00e9moignages irr\u00e9cusables? L'opium et les autres\nmarchandises que nous avions \u00e0 bord auraient prouv\u00e9 que le navire \u00e9tait\nall\u00e9 au Bengale; les Hollandais, qui, disait-on, avaient touts les noms\ndes hommes de son ancien \u00e9quipage, auraient vu ais\u00e9ment que nous \u00e9tions\nun m\u00e9lange d'Anglais, de Portugais et d'Indiens, et qu'il n'y avait\nparmi nous que deux Hollandais. Toutes ces circonstances et bien\nd'autres encore auraient suffi et au-del\u00e0 pour rendre \u00e9vident \u00e0 tout\ncapitaine entre les mains de qui nous serions tomb\u00e9s que nous n'\u00e9tions\npas des pirates.\nMais la peur, cette aveugle et vaine passion, nous troublait et nous\njetait dans les vapeurs: elle brouillait notre cervelle, et notre\nimagination abus\u00e9e enfantait mille terribles choses moralement\nimpossibles. Nous nous figurions, comme on nous l'avait rapport\u00e9, que\nles marins des navires anglais et hollandais, que ces derniers\nparticuli\u00e8rement, \u00e9taient si enrag\u00e9s au seul nom de pirate, surtout si\nfurieux de la d\u00e9confiture de leurs chaloupes et de notre fuite que, sans\nse donner le temps de s'informer si nous \u00e9tions ou non des \u00e9cumeurs et\nsans vouloir rien entendre, ils nous ex\u00e9cuteraient sur-le champ. Pour\nqu'ils daignassent faire plus de c\u00e9r\u00e9monie nous r\u00e9fl\u00e9chissions que la\nchose avait \u00e0 leurs yeux de trop grandes apparences de v\u00e9rit\u00e9: le\nvaisseau n'\u00e9tait-il pas le m\u00eame, quelques-uns de leurs matelots ne le\nconnaissaient-ils pas, n'avaient-ils pas fait partie de son \u00e9quipage, et\ndans la rivi\u00e8re de Camboge, lorsque nous avions eu vent qu'ils devaient\ndescendre pour nous examiner, n'avions nous pas battu leurs chaloupes et\nlev\u00e9 le pied? Nous ne mettions donc pas en doute qu'ils ne fussent aussi\npleinement assur\u00e9s que nous \u00e9tions pirates que nous nous \u00e9tions\nconvaincus du contraire; et souvent je disais que je ne savais si, nos\nr\u00f4les chang\u00e9s, notre cas devenu le leur, je n'eusse pas consid\u00e9r\u00e9 tout\nceci comme de la derni\u00e8re \u00e9vidence, et me fusse fait aucun scrupule de\ntailler en pi\u00e8ces l'\u00e9quipage sans croire et peut-\u00eatre m\u00eame sans \u00e9couter\nce qu'il aurait pu all\u00e9guer pour sa d\u00e9fense.\nQuoi qu'il en f\u00fbt, telles avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 nos appr\u00e9hensions; et mon partner\net moi nous avions rarement ferm\u00e9 l'\u0153il sans r\u00eaver corde et grande\nvergue, c'est-\u00e0-dire potence; sans r\u00eaver que nous combattions, que nous\n\u00e9tions pris, que nous tuions et que nous \u00e9tions tu\u00e9s. Une nuit entre\nautres, dans mon songe j'entrai dans une telle fureur, m'imaginant que\nles Hollandais nous abordaient et que j'assommais un de leurs matelots,\nque je frappai du poing contre le c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la cabine o\u00f9 je couchais et\navec une telle force que je me blessai tr\u00e8s-gri\u00e8vement la main, que je\nme foulai les jointures, que je me meurtris et d\u00e9chirai la chair: \u00e0 ce\ncoup non-seulement je me r\u00e9veillai en sursaut, mais encore je fus en\ntranse un moment d'avoir perdu deux doigts.\nUne autre crainte dont j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 poss\u00e9d\u00e9, c'\u00e9tait le traitement cruel\nque nous feraient les Hollandais si nous tombions entre leurs mains.\nAlors l'histoire d'Amboyne me revenait dans l'esprit, et je pensais\nqu'ils pourraient nous appliquer \u00e0 la question, comme en cette \u00eele ils y\navaient appliqu\u00e9 nos compatriotes, et forcer par la violence de la\ntorture quelques-uns de nos hommes \u00e0 confesser des crimes dont jamais\nils ne s'\u00e9taient rendus coupables, \u00e0 s'avouer eux et nous touts pirates,\nafin de pouvoir nous mettre \u00e0 mort avec quelques apparences de justice;\npouss\u00e9s qu'ils seraient \u00e0 cela par l'app\u00e2t du gain: notre vaisseau et sa\ncargaison valant en somme quatre ou cinq mille livres sterling.\nToutes ces appr\u00e9hensions nous avaient tourment\u00e9s mon partner et moi nuit\net jour. Nous ne prenions point en consid\u00e9ration que les capitaines de\nnavire n'avaient aucune autorit\u00e9 pour agir ainsi, et que si nous nous\nconstituions leurs prisonniers ils ne pourraient se permettre de nous\ntorturer, de nous mettre \u00e0 mort sans en \u00eatre responsables quand ils\nretourneraient dans leur patrie: au fait ceci n'avait rien de bien\nrassurant; car s'ils eussent mal agi \u00e0 notre \u00e9gard, le bel avantage pour\nnous qu'ils fussent appel\u00e9s \u00e0 en rendre compte, car si nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9\noccis tout d'abord, la belle satisfaction pour nous qu'ils en fussent\npunis quand ils rentreraient chez eux.\nJe ne puis m'emp\u00eacher de consigner ici quelques r\u00e9flexions que je\nfaisais alors sur mes nombreuses vicissitudes pass\u00e9es. Oh! combien je\ntrouvais cruel que moi, qui avais d\u00e9pens\u00e9 quarante ann\u00e9es de ma vie dans\nde continuelles traverses, qui avais enfin touch\u00e9 en quelque sorte au\nport vers lequel tendent touts les hommes, le repos et l'abondance, je\nme fusse volontairement jet\u00e9 dans de nouveaux chagrins, par mon choix\nfuneste, et que moi qui avais \u00e9chapp\u00e9 \u00e0 tant de p\u00e9rils dans ma jeunesse\nj'en fusse venu sur le d\u00e9clin de l'\u00e2ge, dans une contr\u00e9e lointaine, en\nlieu et circonstance o\u00f9 mon innocence ne pouvait m'\u00eatre d'aucune\nprotection, \u00e0 me faire pendre pour un crime que, bien loin d'en \u00eatre\ncoupable, j'ex\u00e9crais.\n\u00c0 ces pens\u00e9es succ\u00e9dait un \u00e9lan religieux, et je me prenais \u00e0 consid\u00e9rer\nque c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 sans doute une disposition imm\u00e9diate de la Providence;\nque je devais le regarder comme tel et m'y soumettre; que, bien que je\nfusse innocent devant les hommes, tant s'en fallait que je le fusse\ndevant mon Cr\u00e9ateur; que je devais songer aux fautes signal\u00e9es dont ma\nvie \u00e9tait pleine et pour lesquelles la Providence pouvait m'infliger ce\nch\u00e2timent, comme une juste r\u00e9tribution; enfin, que je devais m'y\nr\u00e9signer comme je me serais r\u00e9sign\u00e9 \u00e0 un naufrage s'il e\u00fbt plu \u00e0 Dieu de\nme frapper d'un pareil d\u00e9sastre.\n\u00c0 son tour mon courage naturel quelquefois reparaissait, je formais de\nvigoureuses r\u00e9solutions, je jurais de ne jamais me laisser prendre, donc\njamais me laisser torturer par une poign\u00e9e de barbares froidement\nimpitoyables; je me disais qu'il aurait mieux valu pour moi tomber entre\nles mains des Sauvages, des Cannibales, qui, s'ils m'eussent fait\nprisonnier, m'eussent \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr d\u00e9vor\u00e9, que de tomber entre les mains\nde ces messieurs, dont peut-\u00eatre la rage s'assouvirait sur moi par des\ncruaut\u00e9s inou\u00efes, des atrocit\u00e9s. Je me disais, quand autrefois j'en\nvenais aux mains avec les Sauvages n'\u00e9tais-je pas r\u00e9solu \u00e0 combattre\njusqu'au dernier soupir? et je me demandais pourquoi je ne ferais pas de\nm\u00eame alors, puisque \u00eatre pris par ces messieurs \u00e9tait pour moi une id\u00e9e\nplus terrible que ne l'avait jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 celle d'\u00eatre mang\u00e9 par les\nSauvages. Les Cara\u00efbes, \u00e0 leur rendre justice, ne mangeaient pas un\nprisonnier qu'il n'e\u00fbt rendu l'\u00e2me, ils le tuaient d'abord comme nous\ntuons un b\u0153uf; tandis que ces messieurs poss\u00e9daient une multitude de\nraffinements ing\u00e9nieux pour ench\u00e9rir sur la cruaut\u00e9 de la mort.--Toutes\nles fois que ces pens\u00e9es prenaient le dessus, je tombais immanquablement\ndans une sorte de fi\u00e8vre, allum\u00e9e par les agitations d'un combat\nsuppos\u00e9: mon sang bouillait, mes yeux \u00e9tincelaient comme si j'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9\ndans la m\u00eal\u00e9e, puis je jurais de ne point accepter de quartier, et quand\nje ne pourrais plus r\u00e9sister, de faire sauter le navire et tout ce qui\ns'y trouvait pour ne laisser \u00e0 l'ennemi qu'un ch\u00e9tif butin dont il p\u00fbt\nfaire troph\u00e9e.\nMais aussi lourd qu'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 le poids de ces anxi\u00e9t\u00e9s et de ces\nperplexit\u00e9s tandis que nous \u00e9tions \u00e0 bord, aussi grande fut notre joie\nquand nous nous v\u00eemes \u00e0 terre, et mon partner me conta qu'il avait r\u00eav\u00e9\nque ses \u00e9paules \u00e9taient charg\u00e9es d'un fardeau tr\u00e8s-pesant qu'il devait\nporter au sommet d'une montagne: il sentait qu'il ne pourrait le\nsoutenir long-temps; mais \u00e9tait survenu le pilote portugais qui l'en\navait d\u00e9barrass\u00e9, la montagne avait disparu et il n'avait plus apper\u00e7u\ndevant lui qu'une plaine douce et unie. Vraiment il en \u00e9tait ainsi, nous\n\u00e9tions comme des hommes qu'on a d\u00e9livr\u00e9s d'un pesant fardeau.\nPour ma part j'avais le c\u0153ur d\u00e9barrass\u00e9 d'un poids sous lequel je\nfaiblissais; et, comme je l'ai dit, je fis serment de ne jamais\nretourner en mer sur ce navire.--Quand nous f\u00fbmes \u00e0 terre, le vieux\npilote, devenu alors notre ami, nous procura un logement et un magasin\npour nos marchandises, qui dans le fond ne faisaient \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s qu'un:\nc'\u00e9tait une hutte contigu\u00eb \u00e0 une maison spacieuse, le tout construit en\ncannes et environn\u00e9 d'une palissade de gros roseaux pour garder des\npilleries des voleurs, qui, \u00e0 ce qu'il para\u00eet, pullulent dans le pays.\nN\u00e9anmoins, les magistrats nous octroy\u00e8rent une petite garde: nous avions\nun soldat qui, avec une esp\u00e8ce de hallebarde ou de demi-pique, faisait\nsentinelle \u00e0 notre porte et auquel nous donnions une mesure de riz et\nune petite pi\u00e8ce de monnaie, environ la valeur de trois pennys par jour.\nGr\u00e2ce \u00e0 tout cela, nos marchandises \u00e9taient en s\u00fbret\u00e9.\nLa foire habituellement tenue dans ce lieu \u00e9tait termin\u00e9e depuis quelque\ntemps; cependant nous trouv\u00e2mes encore trois ou quatre jonques dans la\nrivi\u00e8re et deux _japoniers_, j'entends deux vaisseaux du Japon, charg\u00e9s\nde marchandises chinoises attendant pour faire voile les n\u00e9gociants\njaponais qui \u00e9taient encore \u00e0 terre.\nLa premi\u00e8re chose que fit pour nous notre vieux pilote portugais, ce fut\nde nous m\u00e9nager la connaissance de trois missionnaires catholiques qui\nse trouvaient dans la ville et qui s'y \u00e9taient arr\u00eat\u00e9s depuis assez\nlong-temps pour convertir les habitants au Christianisme; mais nous\ncr\u00fbmes voir qu'ils ne faisaient que de piteuse besogne et que les\nChr\u00e9tiens qu'ils faisaient ne faisaient que de tristes Chr\u00e9tiens.\nQuoiqu'il en f\u00fbt, ce n'\u00e9tait pas notre affaire. Un de ces pr\u00eatres \u00e9tait\nun Fran\u00e7ais qu'on appelait P\u00e8re Simon, homme de bonne et joyeuse humeur,\nfranc dans ses propos et n'ayant pas la mine si s\u00e9rieuse et si grave que\nles deux autres, l'un Portugais, l'autre G\u00e9nois. P\u00e8re Simon \u00e9tait\ncourtois, ais\u00e9 dans ses mani\u00e8res et d'un commerce fort aimable; ses deux\ncompagnons, plus r\u00e9serv\u00e9s, paraissaient rigides et aust\u00e8res, et\ns'appliquaient tout de bon \u00e0 l'\u0153uvre pour laquelle ils \u00e9taient venus,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 s'entretenir avec les habitants et \u00e0 s'insinuer parmi eux\ntoutes les fois que l'occasion s'en pr\u00e9sentait. Souvent nous prenions\nnos repas avec ces r\u00e9v\u00e9rends; et quoique \u00e0 vrai dire ce qu'ils appellent\nla conversion des Chinois au Christianisme soit fort \u00e9loign\u00e9e de la\nvraie conversion requise pour amener un peuple \u00e0 la Foi du Christ, et ne\nsemble gu\u00e8re consister qu'\u00e0 leur apprendre le nom de J\u00e9sus, \u00e0 r\u00e9citer\nquelques pri\u00e8res \u00e0 la Vierge Marie et \u00e0 son Fils dans une langue qu'ils\nne comprennent pas, \u00e0 faire le signe de la croix et autres choses\nsemblables, cependant il me faut l'avouer, ces religieux qu'on appelle\nMissionnaires, ont une ferme croyance que ces gens seront sauv\u00e9s et\nqu'ils sont l'instrument de leur salut; dans cette persuasion, ils\nsubissent non-seulement les fatigues du voyage, les dangers d'une\npareille vie, mais souvent la mort m\u00eame avec les tortures les plus\nviolentes pour l'accomplissement de cette \u0153uvre; et ce serait de notre\npart un grand manque de charit\u00e9, quelque opinion que nous ayons de leur\nbesogne en elle-m\u00eame et de leur mani\u00e8re de l'exp\u00e9dier, si nous n'avions\npas une haute opinion du z\u00e8le qui la leur fait entreprendre \u00e0 travers\ntant de dangers, sans avoir en vue pour eux-m\u00eames le moindre avantage\ntemporel. [26]\nLE N\u00c9GOCIANT JAPONAIS\nOr, pour en revenir \u00e0 mon histoire, ce pr\u00eatre fran\u00e7ais, P\u00e8re Simon,\navait, ce me semble, ordre du chef de la Mission de se rendre \u00e0 P\u00e9king,\nr\u00e9sidence royale de l'Empereur chinois, et attendait un autre pr\u00eatre\nqu'on devait lui envoyer de Macao pour l'accompagner. Nous nous\ntrouvions rarement ensemble sans qu'il m'invit\u00e2t \u00e0 faire ce voyage avec\nlui, m'assurant qu'il me montrerait toutes les choses glorieuses de ce\npuissant Empire et entre autres la plus grande cit\u00e9 du monde:--\u00abCit\u00e9,\ndisait-il, que votre Londres et notre Paris r\u00e9unis ne pourraient\n\u00e9galer.\u00bb--Il voulait parler de P\u00e9king, qui, je l'avoue, est une ville\nfort grande et infiniment peupl\u00e9e; mais comme j'ai regard\u00e9 ces choses\nd'un autre \u0153il que le commun des hommes, j'en donnerai donc mon opinion\nen peu de mots quand, dans la suite de mes voyages, je serai amen\u00e9 \u00e0 en\nparler plus particuli\u00e8rement.\nMais d'abord je retourne \u00e0 mon moine ou missionnaire: d\u00eenant un jour\navec lui, nous trouvant touts fort gais, je lui laissai voir quelque\npenchant \u00e0 le suivre, et il se mit \u00e0 me presser tr\u00e8s-vivement, ainsi que\nmon partner, et \u00e0 nous faire mille s\u00e9ductions pour nous d\u00e9cider.--\u00abD'o\u00f9\nvient donc, P\u00e8re Simon, dit mon partner, que vous souhaitez si fort\nnotre soci\u00e9t\u00e9? Vous savez que nous sommes h\u00e9r\u00e9tiques; vous ne pouvez\nnous aimer ni go\u00fbter notre compagnie.\u00bb--\u00abOh! s'\u00e9cria-t-il, vous\ndeviendrez peut-\u00eatre de bons Catholiques, avec le temps: mon affaire ici\nest de convertir des payens; et qui sait si je ne vous convertirai pas\naussi?\u00bb--\u00abTr\u00e8s-bien, P\u00e8re, repris-je; ainsi vous nous pr\u00eacherez tout le\nlong du chemin.\u00bb--\u00abNon, non, je ne vous importunerai pas: notre religion\nn'est pas incompatible avec les bonnes mani\u00e8res; d'ailleurs, nous sommes\ntouts ici cens\u00e9s compatriotes. Au fait ne le sommes-nous pas eu \u00e9gard au\npays o\u00f9 nous nous trouvons; et si vous \u00eates huguenots et moi catholique,\nau total ne sommes-nous pas touts chr\u00e9tiens? Tout au moins, ajouta-t-il,\nnous sommes touts de braves gens et nous pouvons fort bien nous hanter\nsans nous incommoder l'un l'autre.\u00bb--Je go\u00fbtai fort ces derni\u00e8res\nparoles, qui rappel\u00e8rent \u00e0 mon souvenir mon jeune eccl\u00e9siastique que\nj'avais laiss\u00e9 au Br\u00e9sil, mais il s'en fallait de beaucoup que ce P\u00e8re\nSimon approch\u00e2t de son caract\u00e8re; car bien que P\u00e8re Simon n'e\u00fbt en lui\nnulle apparence de l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9 criminelle, cependant il n'avait pas ce\nfonds de z\u00e8le chr\u00e9tien, de pi\u00e9t\u00e9 stricte, d'affection sinc\u00e8re pour la\nreligion que mon autre bon eccl\u00e9siastique poss\u00e9dait et dont j'ai parl\u00e9\nlonguement.\nMais laissons un peu P\u00e8re Simon, quoiqu'il ne nous laiss\u00e2t point, ni ne\ncess\u00e2t de nous solliciter de partir avec lui. Autre chose alors nous\npr\u00e9occupait: il s'agissait de nous d\u00e9faire de notre navire et de nos\nmarchandises, et nous commencions \u00e0 douter fort que nous le pussions,\ncar nous \u00e9tions dans une place peu marchande: une fois m\u00eame je fus tent\u00e9\nde me hasarder \u00e0 faire voile pour la rivi\u00e8re de Kilam et la ville de\nNanking; mais la Providence sembla alors, plus visiblement que jamais,\ns'int\u00e9resser \u00e0 nos affaires, et mon courage fut tout-\u00e0-coup relev\u00e9 par\nle pressentiment que je devais, d'une mani\u00e8re ou d'une autre, sortir de\ncette perplexit\u00e9 et revoir enfin ma patrie: pourtant je n'avais pas le\nmoindre soup\u00e7on de la voie qui s'ouvrirait, et quand je me prenais\nquelquefois \u00e0 y songer je ne pouvais imaginer comment cela adviendrait.\nLa Providence, dis-je, commen\u00e7a ici \u00e0 d\u00e9barrasser un peu notre route, et\npour la premi\u00e8re chose heureuse voici que notre vieux pilote portugais\nnous amena un n\u00e9gociant japonais qui, apr\u00e8s s'\u00eatre enquis des\nmarchandises que nous avions, nous acheta en premier lieu tout notre\nopium: il nous en donna un tr\u00e8s-bon prix, et nous paya en or, au poids,\npartie en petites pi\u00e8ces au coin du pays, partie en petits lingots\nd'environ dix ou onze onces chacun. Tandis que nous \u00e9tions en affaire\navec lui pour notre opium il me vint \u00e0 l'esprit qu'il pourrait bien\naussi s'arranger de notre navire et j'ordonnai \u00e0 l'interpr\u00e8te de lui en\nfaire la proposition; \u00e0 cette ouverture, il leva tout bonnement les\n\u00e9paules, mais quelques jours apr\u00e8s il revint avec un des missionnaires\npour son trucheman et me fit cette offre:--\u00abJe vous ai achet\u00e9, dit-il,\nune trop grande quantit\u00e9 de marchandises avant d'avoir la pens\u00e9e ou que\nla proposition m'ait \u00e9t\u00e9 faite d'acheter le navire, de sorte qu'il ne me\nreste pas assez d'argent pour le payer; mais si vous voulez le confier\nau m\u00eame \u00e9quipage je le louerai pour aller au Japon, d'o\u00f9 je l'enverrai\naux \u00eeles Philippines avec un nouveau chargement dont je paierai le fret\navant son d\u00e9part du Japon, et \u00e0 son retour je l'ach\u00e8terai.\u00bb Je pr\u00eatai\nl'oreille \u00e0 cette proposition, et elle remua si vivement mon humeur\naventuri\u00e8re que je con\u00e7us aussit\u00f4t l'id\u00e9e de partir moi-m\u00eame avec lui,\npuis de faire voile des \u00eeles Philippines pour les mers du Sud. Je\ndemandai donc au n\u00e9gociant japonais s'il ne pourrait pas ne nous garder\nque jusqu'aux Philippines et nous cong\u00e9dier l\u00e0. Il r\u00e9pondit que non, que\nla chose \u00e9tait impossible, parce qu'alors il ne pourrait effectuer le\nretour de sa cargaison, mais qu'il nous cong\u00e9dierait au Japon, \u00e0 la\nrentr\u00e9e du navire. J'y adh\u00e9rais, toujours dispos\u00e9 \u00e0 partir; mais mon\npartner, plus sage que moi, m'en dissuada en me repr\u00e9sentant les dangers\nauxquels j'allais courir et sur ces mers, et chez les Japonais, qui sont\nfaux, cruels et perfides, et chez les Espagnols des Philippines, plus\nfaux, plus cruels et plus perfides encore.\nMais pour amener \u00e0 conclusion ce grand changement dans nos affaires, il\nfallait d'abord consulter le capitaine du navire. Et l'\u00e9quipage, et\nsavoir s'ils voulaient aller au Japon, et tandis que cela m'occupait, le\njeune homme que mon neveu m'avait laiss\u00e9 pour compagnon de voyage vint \u00e0\nmoi et me dit qu'il croyait l'exp\u00e9dition propos\u00e9e fort belle, qu'elle\npromettait de grands avantages et qu'il serait ravi que je\nl'entreprisse; mais que si je ne me d\u00e9cidais pas \u00e0 cela et que je\nvoulusse l'y autoriser, il \u00e9tait pr\u00eat \u00e0 partir comme marchand, ou en\ntoute autre qualit\u00e9, \u00e0 mon bon plaisir.--\u00abSi jamais je retourne en\nAngleterre, ajouta-t-il, et vous y retrouve vivant, je vous rendrai un\ncompte fid\u00e8le de mon gain, qui sera tout \u00e0 votre discr\u00e9tion.\u00bb\nIl me f\u00e2chait r\u00e9ellement de me s\u00e9parer de lui; mais, songeant aux\navantages qui \u00e9taient vraiment consid\u00e9rables, et que ce jeune homme\n\u00e9tait aussi propre \u00e0 mener l'affaire \u00e0 bien que qui que ce f\u00fbt,\nj'inclinai \u00e0 le laisser partir; cependant je lui dis que je voulais\nd'abord consulter mon partner, et que je lui donnerais une r\u00e9ponse le\nlendemain. Je m'en entretins donc avec mon partner, qui s'y pr\u00eata\ntr\u00e8s-g\u00e9n\u00e9reusement:--\u00abVous savez, me dit-il, que ce navire nous a \u00e9t\u00e9\nfuneste, et que nous avons r\u00e9solu touts les deux de ne plus nous y\nembarquer: si votre intendant--ainsi appelait-il mon jeune homme--veut\ntenter le voyage, je lui abandonne ma part du navire pour qu'il en tire\nle meilleur parti possible; et si nous vivons assez pour revoir\nl'Angleterre, et s'il r\u00e9ussit dans ces exp\u00e9ditions lointaines, il nous\ntiendra compte de la moiti\u00e9 du profit du louage du navire, l'autre\nmoiti\u00e9 sera pour lui.\u00bb\nMon partner qui n'avait nulle raison de prendre int\u00e9r\u00eat \u00e0 ce jeune\nhomme, faisant une offre semblable, je me gardai bien d'\u00eatre moins\ng\u00e9n\u00e9reux; et tout l'\u00e9quipage consentant \u00e0 partir avec lui, nous lui\ndonn\u00e2mes la moiti\u00e9 du b\u00e2timent en propri\u00e9t\u00e9, et nous re\u00e7\u00fbmes de lui un\n\u00e9crit par lequel il s'obligeait \u00e0 nous tenir compte de l'autre et il\npartit pour le Japon.--Le n\u00e9gociant japonais se montra un parfait\nhonn\u00eate homme \u00e0 son \u00e9gard: il le prot\u00e9gea au Japon, il lui fit obtenir,\nla permission de descendre \u00e0 terre, faveur qu'en g\u00e9n\u00e9rai les Europ\u00e9ens\nn'obtiennent plus depuis quelque temps; il lui paya son fret\ntr\u00e8s-ponctuellement, et l'envoya aux Philippines charg\u00e9 de porcelaines\ndu Japon et de la Chine avec un subr\u00e9cargue du pays, qui, apr\u00e8s avoir\ntrafiqu\u00e9 avec les Espagnols, rapporta des marchandises europ\u00e9ennes et\nune forte partie de clous de girofle et autres \u00e9pices. \u00c0 son arriv\u00e9e\nnon-seulement il lui paya son fret recta et grassement, mais encore,\ncomme notre jeune homme ne se souciait point alors de vendre le navire,\nle n\u00e9gociant lui fournit des marchandises pour son compte; de sorte\nqu'avec quelque argent et quelques \u00e9pices qu'il avait d'autre part et\nqu'il emporta avec lui, il retourna aux Philippines, chez les Espagnols,\no\u00f9 il se d\u00e9fit de sa cargaison tr\u00e8s-avantageusement. L\u00e0, s'\u00e9tant fait de\nbonnes connaissances \u00e0 Manille, il obtint que son navire f\u00fbt d\u00e9clar\u00e9\nlibre; et le gouverneur de Manille l'ayant lou\u00e9 pour aller en Am\u00e9rique,\n\u00e0 Acapulco, sur la c\u00f4te du Mexique, il lui donna la permission d'y\nd\u00e9barquer, de se rendre \u00e0 Mexico, et de prendre passage pour l'Europe,\nlui et tout son monde, sur un navire espagnol.\nIl fit le voyage d'Acapulco tr\u00e8s-heureusement, et l\u00e0 il vendit son\nnavire. L\u00e0, ayant aussi obtenu la permission de se rendre par terre \u00e0\nPorto-Bello, il trouva, je ne sais comment, le moyen de passer \u00e0 la\nJama\u00efque avec tout ce qu'il avait, et environ huit ans apr\u00e8s il revint\nen Angleterre excessivement riche: de quoi je parlerai en son lieu. Sur\nce je reviens \u00e0 mes propres affaires.\nSur le point de nous s\u00e9parer du b\u00e2timent et de l'\u00e9quipage, nous nous\npr\u00eemes naturellement \u00e0 songer \u00e0 la r\u00e9compense que nous devions donner\naux deux hommes qui nous avaient avertis si fort \u00e0 propos du projet\nform\u00e9 contre nous dans la rivi\u00e8re de Camboge. Le fait est qu'ils nous\navaient rendu un service insigne, et qu'ils m\u00e9ritaient bien de nous,\nquoique, soit dit en passant, ils ne fussent eux-m\u00eames qu'une paire de\ncoquins; car, ajoutant foi \u00e0 la fable qui nous transformait en pirates,\net ne doutant pas que nous ne nous fussions enfuis avec le navire, ils\n\u00e9taient venus nous trouver, non-seulement pour nous vendre la m\u00e8che de\nce qu'on machinait contre nous, mais encore pour s'en aller faire la\ncourse en notre compagnie, et l'un d'eux avoua plus tard que l'esp\u00e9rance\nseule d'\u00e9cumer la mer avec nous l'avait pouss\u00e9 \u00e0 cette r\u00e9v\u00e9lation.\nN'importe! le service qu'ils nous avaient rendu n'en \u00e9tait pas moins\ngrand, et c'est pourquoi, comme je leur avais promis d'\u00eatre\nreconnaissant envers eux, j'ordonnai premi\u00e8rement qu'on leur pay\u00e2t les\nappointements qu'ils d\u00e9claraient leur \u00eatre dus \u00e0 bord de leurs vaisseaux\nrespectifs, c'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 l'Anglais neuf mois de ses gages et sept au\nHollandais; puis, en outre et par dessus, je leur fis donner une petite\nsomme en or, \u00e0 leur grand contentement. Je nommai ensuite l'Anglais\nma\u00eetre canonnier du bord, le n\u00f4tre ayant pass\u00e9 lieutenant en second et\ncommis aux vivres; pour le Hollandais je le fis ma\u00eetre d'\u00e9quipage. Ainsi\ngrandement satisfaits, l'un et l'autre rendirent de bons offices, car\ntouts les deux \u00e9taient d'habiles marins et d'intr\u00e9pides compagnons.\nNous \u00e9tions alors \u00e0 terre \u00e0 la Chine; et si au Bengale je m'\u00e9tais cru\nbanni et \u00e9loign\u00e9 de ma patrie, tandis que pour mon argent, j'avais tant\nde moyens de revenir chez moi, que ne devais-je pas penser en ce moment\no\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais environ \u00e0 mille lieues plus loin de l'Angleterre, et sans\nperspective aucune de retour!\nSeulement, comme une autre foire devait se tenir au bout de quatre mois\ndans la ville o\u00f9 nous \u00e9tions, nous esp\u00e9rions qu'alors nous serions \u00e0\nm\u00eame de nous procurer toutes sortes de produits du pays, et\nvraisemblablement de trouver quelques jonques chinoises ou quelques\nnavires venant de Nanking qui seraient \u00e0 vendre et qui pourraient nous\ntransporter nous et nos marchandises o\u00f9 il nous plairait. Faisant fond\nl\u00e0-dessus, je r\u00e9solus d'attendre; d'ailleurs comme nos personnes priv\u00e9es\nn'\u00e9taient pas suspectes, si quelques b\u00e2timents anglais ou hollandais se\npr\u00e9sentaient ne pouvions-nous pas trouver l'occasion de charger nos\nmarchandises et d'obtenir passage pour quelque autre endroit des Indes\nmoins \u00e9loign\u00e9 de notre patrie?\nDans cette esp\u00e9rance, nous nous d\u00e9termin\u00e2mes donc \u00e0 demeurer en ce lieu;\nmais pour nous r\u00e9cr\u00e9er nous nous perm\u00eemes deux ou trois petites tourn\u00e9es\ndans le pays. Nous f\u00eemes d'abord un voyage de dix jours pour aller voir\nNanking, ville vraiment digne d'\u00eatre visit\u00e9e. On dit qu'elle renferme un\nmillion d'\u00e2mes, je ne le crois pas: elle est sym\u00e9triquement b\u00e2tie,\ntoutes les rues sont r\u00e9guli\u00e8rement align\u00e9es et se croisent l'une l'autre\nen ligne droite, ce qui lui donne une avantageuse apparence.\nVOYAGE \u00c0 NANKING\nMais quand j'en viens \u00e0 comparer les mis\u00e9rables peuples de ces contr\u00e9es\naux peuples de nos contr\u00e9es, leurs \u00e9difices, leurs m\u0153urs, leur\ngouvernement, leur religion, leurs richesses et leur splendeur--comme\ndisent quelques-uns,--j'avoue que tout cela me semble ne pas valoir la\npeine d'\u00eatre nomm\u00e9, ne pas valoir le temps que je passerais \u00e0 le d\u00e9crire\net que perdraient \u00e0 le lire ceux qui viendront apr\u00e8s moi.\nIl est \u00e0 remarquer que nous nous \u00e9bahissons de la grandeur, de\nl'opulence, des c\u00e9r\u00e9monies, de la pompe, du gouvernement, des\nmanufactures, du commerce et de la conduite de ces peuples, non parce\nque ces choses m\u00e9ritent de fixer notre admiration ou m\u00eame nos regards,\nmais seulement parce que, tout remplis de l'id\u00e9e primitive que nous\navons de la barbarie de ces contr\u00e9es, de la grossi\u00e8ret\u00e9 et de\nl'ignorance qui y r\u00e8gnent, nous ne nous attendons pas \u00e0 y trouver rien\nde si avanc\u00e9.\nAutrement, que sont leurs \u00e9difices au prix des palais et des ch\u00e2teaux\nroyaux de l'Europe? Qu'est-ce que leur commerce aupr\u00e8s du commerce\nuniversel de l'Angleterre, de la Hollande, de la France et de l'Espagne?\nQue sont leurs villes au prix des n\u00f4tres pour l'opulence, la force, le\nfaste des habits, le luxe des ameublements, la vari\u00e9t\u00e9 infinie? Que sont\nleurs ports parsem\u00e9s de quelques jonques et de quelques barques,\ncompar\u00e9s \u00e0 notre navigation, \u00e0 nos flottes marchandes, \u00e0 notre puissante\net formidable marine? Notre cit\u00e9 de Londres fait plus de commerce que\ntout leur puissant Empire. Un vaisseau de guerre anglais, hollandais ou\nfran\u00e7ais, de quatre-vingts canons, battrait et d\u00e9truirait toutes les\nforces navales des Chinois, la grandeur de leur opulence et de leur\ncommerce, la puissance de leur gouvernement, la force de leurs arm\u00e9es\nnous \u00e9merveillent parce que, je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, accoutum\u00e9s que nous\nsommes \u00e0 les consid\u00e9rer comme une nation barbare de payens et \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\ncomme des Sauvages, nous ne nous attendons pas \u00e0 rencontrer rien de\nsemblable chez eux, et c'est vraiment de l\u00e0 que vient le jour avantageux\nsous lequel nous apparaissent leur splendeur et leur puissance:\nautrement, cela en soi-m\u00eame n'est rien du tout; car ce que j'ai dit de\nleurs vaisseaux peut \u00eatre dit de leurs troupes et de leurs arm\u00e9es;\ntoutes les forces de leur Empire, bien qu'ils puissent mettre en\ncampagne deux millions d'hommes, ne seraient bonnes ni plus ni moins\nqu'\u00e0 ruiner le pays et \u00e0 les r\u00e9duire eux-m\u00eames \u00e0 la famine. S'ils\navaient \u00e0 assi\u00e9ger une ville forte de Flandre ou \u00e0 combattre une arm\u00e9e\ndisciplin\u00e9e, une ligne de cuirassiers allemands ou de gendarmes fran\u00e7ais\nculbuterait toute leur cavalerie; un million de leurs fantassins ne\npourraient tenir devant un corps du notre infanterie rang\u00e9 en bataille\net post\u00e9 de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 ne pouvoir \u00eatre envelopp\u00e9, fussent-ils vingt contre\nun: voire m\u00eame, je ne h\u00e2blerais pas si je disais que trente mille hommes\nd'infanterie allemande ou anglaise et dix mille chevaux fran\u00e7ais\nbrosseraient toutes les forces de la Chine. Il en est de m\u00eame de notre\nfortification et de l'art de nos ing\u00e9nieurs dans l'attaque et la d\u00e9fense\ndes villes: il n'y a pas \u00e0 la Chine une place fortifi\u00e9e qui p\u00fbt tenir un\nmois contre les batteries et les assauts d'une arm\u00e9e europ\u00e9enne tandis\nque toutes les arm\u00e9es des Chinois ne pourraient prendre une ville comme\nDunkerque, \u00e0 moins que ce ne f\u00fbt par famine, l'assi\u00e9geraient-elles dix\nans. Ils ont des armes \u00e0 feu, il est vrai; mais elles sont lourdes et\ngrossi\u00e8res et sujettes \u00e0 faire long feu; ils ont de la poudre, mais elle\nn'a point de force; enfin ils n'ont ni discipline sur le champ de\nbataille, ni tactique, ni habilet\u00e9 dans l'attaque, ni mod\u00e9ration dans la\nretraite. Aussi j'avoue que ce fut chose bien \u00e9trange pour moi quand je\nrevins en Angleterre d'entendre nos compatriotes d\u00e9biter de si belles\nbourdes sur la puissance, les richesses, la gloire, la magnificence et\nle commerce des Chinois, qui ne sont, je l'ai vu, je le sais, qu'un\nm\u00e9prisable troupeau d'esclaves ignorants et sordides assuj\u00e9tis \u00e0 un\ngouvernement bien digne de commander \u00e0 tel peuple; et en un mot, car je\nsuis maintenant tout-\u00e0-fait lanc\u00e9 hors de mon sujet, et en un mot,\ndis-je si la Moscovie n'\u00e9tait pas \u00e0 une si \u00e9norme distance, si l'Empire\nmoscovite n'\u00e9tait pas un ramassis d'esclaves presque aussi grossiers,\naussi faibles, aussi mal gouvern\u00e9s que les Chinois eux-m\u00eames, le Czar de\nMoscovie pourrait tout \u00e0 son aise les chasser touts de leur contr\u00e9e et\nla subjuguer dans une seule campagne. Si le Czar, qui, \u00e0 ce que\nj'entends dire, devient un grand prince et commence \u00e0 se montrer\nformidable dans le monde, se f\u00fbt jet\u00e9 de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 au lieu de s'attaquer\naux belliqueux Su\u00e9dois,--dans cette entreprise aucune des puissances ne\nl'e\u00fbt envi\u00e9 ou entrav\u00e9,--il serait aujourd'hui Empereur de la Chine au\nlieu d'avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 battu par le Roi de Su\u00e8de \u00e0 Narva, o\u00f9 les Su\u00e9dois\nn'\u00e9taient pas un contre six.--De m\u00eame que les Chinois nous sont\ninf\u00e9rieurs en force, en magnificence, en navigation, en commerce et en\nagriculture, de m\u00eame ils nous sont inf\u00e9rieurs en savoir, en habilet\u00e9\ndans les sciences: ils ont des globes et des sph\u00e8res et une teinture des\nmath\u00e9matiques; mais vient-on \u00e0 examiner leurs connaissances... que les\nplus judicieux de leurs savants ont la vue courte! Ils ne savent rien du\nmouvement des corps c\u00e9lestes et sont si grossi\u00e8rement et si absurdement\nignorants, que, lorsque le soleil s'\u00e9clipse, ils s'imaginent q'il est\nassailli par un grand dragon qui veut l'emporter, et ils se mettent \u00e0\nfaire un charivari avec touts les tambours et touts les chaudrons du\npays pour \u00e9pouvanter et chasser le monstre, juste comme nous faisons\npour rappeler un essaim d'abeilles.\nC'est l\u00e0 l'unique digression de ce genre que je me sois permise dans\ntout le r\u00e9cit que j'ai donn\u00e9 de mes voyages; d\u00e9sormais je me garderai de\nfaire aucune description de contr\u00e9e et de peuple; ce n'est pas mon\naffaire, ce n'est pas de mon ressort: m'attachant seulement \u00e0 la\nnarration de mes propres aventures \u00e0 travers une vie ambulante et une\nlongue s\u00e9rie de vicissitudes, presque inou\u00efes, je ne parlerai des villes\nimportantes, des contr\u00e9es d\u00e9sertes, des nombreuses nations que j'ai\nencore \u00e0 traverser qu'autant qu'elles se lieront \u00e0 ma propre histoire et\nque mes relations avec elles le rendront n\u00e9cessaire.--J'\u00e9tais alors,\nselon mon calcul le plus exact, dans le c\u0153ur de la Chine, par 30 degr\u00e9s\nenviron de latitude Nord, car nous \u00e9tions revenus de Nanking. J'\u00e9tais\ntoujours poss\u00e9d\u00e9 d'une grande envie de voir P\u00e9king, dont j'avais tant\nou\u00ef parler, et P\u00e8re Simon m'importunait chaque jour pour que je fisse\ncette excursion. Enfin l'\u00e9poque de son d\u00e9part \u00e9tant fix\u00e9e, et l'autre\nmissionnaire qui devait aller avec lui \u00e9tant arriv\u00e9 de Macao, il nous\nfallait prendre une d\u00e9termination. Je renvoyai P\u00e8re Simon \u00e0 mon partner,\nm'en r\u00e9f\u00e9rant tout-\u00e0-fait \u00e0 son choix. Mon partner finit par se d\u00e9clarer\npour l'affirmative, et nous f\u00eemes nos pr\u00e9paratifs de voyage. Nous\npart\u00eemes assez avantageusement sous un rapport, car nous obt\u00eenmes la\npermission de voyager \u00e0 la suite d'un des mandarins du pays, une mani\u00e8re\nde vice-rois ou principaux magistrats de la province o\u00f9 ils r\u00e9sident,\ntranchant du grand, voyageant avec un grand cort\u00e8ge et force grands\nhommages de la part du peuple, qui souvent est grandement appauvri par\neux, car touts les pays qu'ils traversent sont oblig\u00e9s de leur fournir\ndes provisions \u00e0 eux et \u00e0 toute leur s\u00e9quelle. Une chose que je ne\nlaissai pas de remarquer particuli\u00e8rement en cheminant avec les bagages\nde celui-ci, c'est que, bien que nous re\u00e7ussions des habitants de\nsuffisantes provisions pour nous et nos chevaux, comme appartenant au\nmandarin, nous \u00e9tions n\u00e9anmoins oblig\u00e9s de tout payer ce que nous\nacceptions d'apr\u00e8s le prix courant du lieu. L'intendant ou commissaire\ndes vivres du mandarin nous soutirait tr\u00e8s-ponctuellement ce\nrevenant-bon, de sorte que si voyager \u00e0 la suite du mandarin \u00e9tait une\ngrande commodit\u00e9 pour nous, ce n'\u00e9tait pas une haute faveur de sa part,\nc'\u00e9tait, tout au contraire, un grand profit pour lui, si l'on consid\u00e8re\nqu'il y avait une trentaine de personnes chevauchant de la m\u00eame mani\u00e8re\nsous la protection de son cort\u00e8ge ou, comme nous disions, sous son\nconvoi. C'\u00e9tait, je le r\u00e9p\u00e8te, pour lui un b\u00e9n\u00e9fice tout clair: il nous\nprenait tout notre argent pour les vivres que le pays lui fournissait\npour rien.\nPour gagner P\u00e9king nous e\u00fbmes vingt-cinq jours de marche \u00e0 travers un\npays extr\u00eamement populeux, mais mis\u00e9rablement cultiv\u00e9: quoiqu'on\npr\u00e9conise tant l'industrie de ce peuple, son agriculture, son \u00e9conomie\nrurale, sa mani\u00e8re de vivre, tout cela n'est qu'une piti\u00e9. Je dis une\npiti\u00e9, et cela est vraiment tel comparativement \u00e0 nous, et nous\nsemblerait ainsi \u00e0 nous qui entendons la vie, si nous \u00e9tions oblig\u00e9s de\nle subir; mais il n'en est pas de m\u00eame pour ces pauvres diables qui ne\nconnaissent rien autre. L'orgueil de ces p\u00e9cores est \u00e9norme, il n'est\nsurpass\u00e9 que par leur pauvret\u00e9, et ne fait qu'ajouter \u00e0 ce que j'appelle\nleur mis\u00e8re. Il m'est avis que les Sauvages tout nus de l'Am\u00e9rique\nvivent beaucoup plus heureux; s'ils n'ont rien ils ne d\u00e9sirent rien,\ntandis que ceux-ci, insolents et superbes, ne sont apr\u00e8s tout que des\ngueux et des valets; leur ostentation est inexprimable: elle se\nmanifeste surtout dans leurs v\u00eatements, dans leurs demeures et dans la\nmultitude de laquais et d'esclaves qu'ils entretiennent; mais ce qui met\nle comble \u00e0 leur ridicule, c'est le m\u00e9pris qu'ils professent pour tout\nl'univers, except\u00e9 pour eux-m\u00eames.\nSinc\u00e8rement, je voyageai par la suite plus agr\u00e9ablement dans les d\u00e9serts\net les vastes solitudes de la Grande-Tartarie que dans cette Chine o\u00f9\ncependant les routes sont bien pav\u00e9es, bien entretenues et tr\u00e8s-commodes\npour les voyageurs. Rien ne me r\u00e9voltait plus que de voir ce peuple si\nhautain, si imp\u00e9rieux, si outrecuidant au sein de l'imb\u00e9cillit\u00e9 et de\nl'ignorance la plus crasse; car tout son fameux g\u00e9nie n'est que \u00e7\u00e0 et\npas plus! Aussi mon ami P\u00e8re Simon et moi ne laissions-nous jamais\n\u00e9chapper l'occasion de faire gorge chaude de leur orgueilleuse\ngueuserie.--Un jour, approchant du manoir d'un gentilhomme campagnard,\ncomme l'appelait P\u00e8re Simon \u00e0 environ dix lieues de la ville de Nanking,\nnous e\u00fbmes l'honneur de chevaucher pendant environ deux milles avec le\nma\u00eetre de la maison, dont l'\u00e9quipage \u00e9tait un parfait Don-Quichotisme,\nun m\u00e9lange de pompe et de pauvret\u00e9.\nL'habit de ce crasseux Don e\u00fbt merveilleusement fait l'affaire d'un\nscaramouche ou d'un fagotin: il \u00e9tait d'un sale calicot surcharg\u00e9 de\ntout le pimpant harnachement de la casaque d'un fou; les manches en\n\u00e9taient pendantes, de tout c\u00f4t\u00e9 ce n'\u00e9tait que satin, crev\u00e9s et\ntaillades. Il recouvrait une riche veste de taffetas aussi grasse que\ncelle d'un boucher, et qui t\u00e9moignait que son Honneur \u00e9tait un\ntr\u00e8s-exquis saligaud.\nSon cheval \u00e9tait une pauvre, maigre, affam\u00e9e et cagneuse cr\u00e9ature; on\npourrait avoir une pareille monture en Angleterre pour trente ou\nquarante schelings. Deux esclaves le suivaient \u00e0 pied pour faire trotter\nle pauvre animal. Il avait un fouet \u00e0 la main et il rossait la b\u00eate\naussi fort et ferme du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la t\u00eate que ses esclaves le faisaient du\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 de la queue, et ainsi il s'en allait chevauchant pr\u00e8s de nous avec\nenviron dix ou douze valets; et on nous dit qu'il se rendait \u00e0 son\nmanoir \u00e0 une demi-lieue devant nous. Nous cheminions tout doucement,\nmais cette mani\u00e8re de gentilhomme prit le devant, et comme nous nous\narr\u00eat\u00e2mes une heure dans un village pour nous rafra\u00eechir, quand nous\narriv\u00e2mes vers le castel du ce grand personnage, nous le v\u00eemes install\u00e9\nsur un petit emplacement devant sa porte, et en train de prendre sa\nr\u00e9fection: au milieu de cette esp\u00e8ce de jardin, il \u00e9tait facile de\nl'appercevoir, et on nous donna \u00e0 entendre que plus nous le\nregarderions, plus il serait satisfait.\nIl \u00e9tait assis sous un arbre \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s semblable \u00e0 un palmier nain, qui\n\u00e9tendait son ombre au-dessus de sa t\u00eate, du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du midi; mais, par\nluxe, on avait plac\u00e9 sous l'arbre un immense parasol qui ajoutait\nbeaucoup au coup d'\u0153il. Il \u00e9tait \u00e9tal\u00e9 et renvers\u00e9 dans un vaste\nfauteuil, car c'\u00e9tait un homme pesant et corpulent, et sa nourriture lui\n\u00e9tait apport\u00e9e par deux esclaves femelles.\nLE DON QUICHOTTE CHINOIS.\nOn en voyait deux autres, dont peu de gentilshommes europ\u00e9ens, je pense,\neussent agr\u00e9\u00e9 le service: la premi\u00e8re abecquait notre gentill\u00e2tre avec\nune cuill\u00e8re; la seconde tenait un plat d'une main, et de l'autre tenait\nce qui tombait sur la barbe ou la veste de taffetas de sa Seigneurie.\nCette grosse et grasse brute pensait au-dessous d'elle d'employer ses\npropres mains \u00e0 toutes ces op\u00e9rations famili\u00e8res que les rois et les\nmonarques aiment mieux faire eux-m\u00eames plut\u00f4t que d'\u00eatre touch\u00e9s par les\ndoigts rustiques de leurs valets[27].\n\u00c0 ce spectacle, je me pris \u00e0 penser aux tortures que la vanit\u00e9 pr\u00e9pare\naux hommes et combien un penchant orgueilleux ainsi mal dirig\u00e9 doit \u00eatre\nincommode pour un \u00eatre qui a le sens commun; puis, laissant ce pauvre\nh\u00e8re se d\u00e9lecter \u00e0 l'id\u00e9e que nous nous \u00e9bahissions devant sa pompe,\ntandis que nous le regardions en piti\u00e9 et lui prodiguions le m\u00e9pris,\nnous poursuiv\u00eemes notre voyage; seulement P\u00e8re Simon eut la curiosit\u00e9 de\ns'arr\u00eater pour t\u00e2cher d'apprendre quelles \u00e9taient les friandises dont ce\nch\u00e2telain se repaissait avec tant d'apparat; il eut l'honneur d'en\ngo\u00fbter et nous dit que c'\u00e9tait, je crois, un mets dont un dogue anglais\nvoudrait \u00e0 peine manger, si on le lui offrait, c'est-\u00e0-dire un plat de\nriz bouilli, rehauss\u00e9 d'une grosse gousse d'ail, d'un sachet rempli de\npoivre vert et d'une autre plante \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s semblable \u00e0 notre\ngingembre, mais qui a l'odeur du musc et la saveur de la moutarde; le\ntout mis ensemble et mijot\u00e9 avec un petit morceau de mouton maigre.\nVoil\u00e0 quel \u00e9tait le festin de sa Seigneurie, dont quatre ou cinq autres\ndomestiques attendaient les ordres \u00e0 quelque distance. S'il les\nnourrissait moins somptueusement qu'il se nourrissait lui-m\u00eame, si, par\nexemple, on leur retranchait les \u00e9pices, ils devaient faire maigre ch\u00e8re\nen v\u00e9rit\u00e9.\nQuant \u00e0 notre mandarin avec qui nous voyagions, respect\u00e9 comme un roi,\nil \u00e9tait toujours environn\u00e9 de ses gentilshommes, et entour\u00e9 d'une telle\npompe que je ne pus gu\u00e8re l'entrevoir que de loin; je remarquai\ntoutefois qu'entre touts les chevaux de son cort\u00e9ge il n'y en avait pas\nun seul qui par\u00fbt valoir les b\u00eates de somme de nos voituriers anglais;\nils \u00e9taient si charg\u00e9s de housses, de capara\u00e7ons, de harnais et autres\nsemblables friperies, que vous n'auriez pu voir s'ils \u00e9taient gras ou\nmaigres: on appercevait \u00e0 peine le bout de leur t\u00eate et de leurs pieds.\nJ'avais alors le c\u0153ur gai; d\u00e9barrass\u00e9 du trouble et de la perplexit\u00e9\ndont j'ai fait la peinture, et ne nourrissant plus d'id\u00e9es rongeantes,\nce voyage me sembla on ne peut plus agr\u00e9able. Je n'y essuyai d'ailleurs\naucun f\u00e2cheux accident; seulement en passant \u00e0 gu\u00e9 une petite rivi\u00e8re,\nmon cheval broncha et me d\u00e9sar\u00e7onna, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'il me jeta dedans:\nl'endroit n'\u00e9tait pas profond, mais je fus tremp\u00e9 jusqu'aux os. Je ne\nfais mention de cela que parce que ce fut alors que se g\u00e2ta mon livre de\npoche, o\u00f9 j'avais couch\u00e9 les noms de plusieurs peuples et de diff\u00e9rents\nlieux dont je voulais me ressouvenir. N'en ayant pas pris tant le soin\nn\u00e9cessaire, les feuillets se moisirent, et par la suite il me fut\nimpossible de d\u00e9chiffrer un seul mot, \u00e0 mon grand regret, surtout quant\naux noms de quelques places auxquelles je touchai dans ce voyage.\nEnfin nous arriv\u00e2mes \u00e0 P\u00e9king.--Je n'avais avec moi que le jeune homme\nque mon neveu le capitaine avait attach\u00e9 \u00e0 ma personne comme domestique,\nlequel se montra tr\u00e8s-fid\u00e8le et tr\u00e8s-diligent; mon partner n'avait non\nplus qu'un compagnon, un de ses parents. Quant au pilote portugais,\nayant d\u00e9sir\u00e9 voir la Cour, nous lui avions donn\u00e9 son passage,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire que nous l'avions d\u00e9fray\u00e9 pour l'agr\u00e9ment de sa compagnie\net pour qu'il nous serv\u00eet d'interpr\u00e8te, car il entendait la langue du\npays, parlait bien fran\u00e7ais et quelque peu anglais: vraiment ce bon\nhomme nous fut partout on ne peut plus utile. Il y avait \u00e0 peine une\nsemaine que nous \u00e9tions \u00e0 P\u00e9king, quand il vint me trouver en\nriant:--\u00abAh! senhor Inglez, me dit-il, j'ai quelque chose \u00e0 vous dire\nqui vous mettra la joie au c\u0153ur.\u00bb--\u00abLa joie au c\u0153ur! dis-je, que\nserait-ce donc? Je ne sache rien dans ce pays qui puisse m'apporter ni\ngrande joie ni grand chagrin.\u00bb--\u00abOui, oui, dit le vieux homme en mauvais\nanglais, faire vous content, et moi _f\u00e2cheux_.\u00bb--C'est _f\u00e2ch\u00e9_ qu'il\nvoulait dire. Ceci piqua ma curiosit\u00e9.--\u00abPourquoi, repris-je, cela vous\nf\u00e2cherait-il?\u00bb--\u00abParce que, r\u00e9pondit-il, apr\u00e8s m'avoir amen\u00e9 ici, apr\u00e8s\nun voyage de vingt-cinq jours, vous me laisserez m'en retourner seul. Et\ncomment ferai-je pour regagner mon port sans vaisseau, sans cheval, sans\n_p\u00e9cune_?\u00bb C'est ainsi qu'il nommait l'argent dans un latin corrompu\nqu'il avait en provision pour notre plus grande hilarit\u00e9.\nBref, il nous dit qu'il y avait dans la ville une grande caravane de\nmarchands moscovites et polonais qui se disposaient \u00e0 retourner par\nterre en Moscovie dans quatre ou cinq semaines, et que s\u00fbrement nous\nsaisirions l'occasion de partir avec eux et le laisserions derri\u00e8re s'en\nrevenir tout seul. J'avoue que cette nouvelle me surprit: une joie\nsecr\u00e8te se r\u00e9pandit dans toute mon \u00e2me, une joie que je ne puis d\u00e9crire,\nque je ne ressentis jamais ni auparavant ni depuis. Il me fut impossible\npendant quelque temps de r\u00e9pondre un seul mot au bon homme; \u00e0 la fin\npourtant, me tournant vers lui:--\u00abComment savez-vous cela? fis-je,\n\u00eates-vous s\u00fbr que ce soit vrai?\u00bb \u00abOui-d\u00e0, reprit-il; j'ai rencontr\u00e9 ce\nmatin, dans la rue, une de mes vieilles connaissances, un Arm\u00e9nien, ou,\ncomme vous dites vous autres, un Grec, qui se trouve avec eux; il est\narriv\u00e9 derni\u00e8rement d'Astracan et se proposait d'aller au Ton-Kin, o\u00f9 je\nl'ai connu autrefois; mais il a chang\u00e9 d'avis, et maintenant il est\nd\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 retourner \u00e0 Moscou avec la caravane, puis \u00e0 descendre le\nVolga jusqu'\u00e0 Astracan.\u00bb--\u00abEh bien! senhor, soyez sans inqui\u00e9tude quant\n\u00e0 \u00eatre laiss\u00e9 seul: si c'est un moyen pour moi de retourner en\nAngleterre, ce sera votre faute si vous remettez jamais le pied \u00e0\nMacao.\u00bb J'allai alors consulter mon partner sur ce qu'il y avait \u00e0\nfaire, et je lui demandai ce qu'il pensait de la nouvelle du pilote et\nsi elle contrarierait ses intentions: il me dit qu'il souscrivait\nd'avance \u00e0 tout ce que je voudrais; car il avait si bien \u00e9tabli ses\naffaires au Bengale et laiss\u00e9 ses effets en si bonnes mains, que, s'il\npouvait convertir l'exp\u00e9dition fructueuse que nous venions de r\u00e9aliser\nen soies de Chine \u00e9crues et ouvr\u00e9es qui valussent la peine d'\u00eatre\ntransport\u00e9es, il serait tr\u00e8s-content d'aller en Angleterre, d'o\u00f9 il\nrepasserait au Bengale par les navires de la Compagnie.\nCette d\u00e9termination prise, nous conv\u00eenmes que, si notre vieux pilote\nportugais voulait nous suivre, nous le d\u00e9fraierions jusqu'\u00e0 Moscou ou\njusqu'en Angleterre, comme il lui plairait. Certes nous n'eussions point\npass\u00e9 pour g\u00e9n\u00e9reux si nous ne l'eussions pas r\u00e9compens\u00e9 davantage; les\nservices qu'il nous avait rendus valaient bien cela et au-del\u00e0: il avait\n\u00e9t\u00e9 non-seulement notre pilote en mer, mais encore pour ainsi dire notre\ncourtier \u00e0 terre; et en nous procurant le n\u00e9gociant japonais il avait\nmis quelques centaines de livres sterling dans nos poches. Nous\ndevis\u00e2mes donc ensemble l\u00e0-dessus, et d\u00e9sireux de le gratifier, ce qui,\napr\u00e8s tout, n'\u00e9tait que lui faire justice, et souhaitant d'ailleurs de\nle conserver avec nous, car c'\u00e9tait un homme pr\u00e9cieux en toute occasion,\nnous conv\u00eenmes que nous lui donnerions \u00e0 nous deux une somme en or\nmonnay\u00e9, qui, d'apr\u00e8s mon calcul, pouvait monter \u00e0 175 livres sterling,\net que nous prendrions ses d\u00e9penses pour notre compte, les siennes et\ncelles de son cheval, ne laissant \u00e0 sa charge que la b\u00eate de somme qui\ntransporterait ses effets.\nAyant arr\u00eat\u00e9 ceci entre nous, nous mand\u00e2mes le vieux pilote pour lui\nfaire savoir ce que nous avions r\u00e9solu.--\u00abVous vous \u00eates plaint, lui\ndis-je, d'\u00eatre menac\u00e9 de vous en retourner tout seul; j'ai maintenant \u00e0\nvous annoncer que vous ne vous en retournerez pas du tout. Comme nous\navons pris parti d'aller en Europe avec la caravane, nous voulons vous\nemmener avec nous, et nous vous avons fait appeler pour conna\u00eetre votre\nvolont\u00e9.\u00bb--Le bonhomme hocha la t\u00eate et dit que c'\u00e9tait un long voyage;\nqu'il n'avait point de _p\u00e9cune_ pour l'entreprendre, ni pour subsister\nquand il serait arriv\u00e9.--\u00abNous ne l'ignorons pas, lui d\u00eemes-nous, et\nc'est pourquoi nous sommes dans l'intention de faire quelque chose pour\nvous qui vous montrera combien nous sommes sensibles au bon office que\nvous nous avez rendu, et combien aussi votre compagnie nous est\nagr\u00e9able.--Je lui d\u00e9clarai alors que nous \u00e9tions convenus de lui donner\npr\u00e9sentement une certaine somme; qu'il pourrait employer de la m\u00eame\nmani\u00e8re que nous emploierions notre avoir, et que, pour ce qui \u00e9tait de\nses d\u00e9penses, s'il venait avec nous, nous voulions le d\u00e9poser \u00e0 bon\nport,--sauf mort ou \u00e9v\u00e9nements,--soit en Moscovie soit en Angleterre, et\ncela \u00e0 notre charge, le transport de ses marchandises except\u00e9.\nIl re\u00e7ut cette proposition avec transport, et protesta qu'il nous\nsuivrait au bout du monde; nous nous m\u00eemes donc \u00e0 faire nos pr\u00e9paratifs\nde voyage. Toutefois il en fut de nous comme des autres marchands: nous\ne\u00fbmes touts beaucoup de choses \u00e0 terminer, et au lieu d'\u00eatre pr\u00eats en\ncinq semaines, avant que tout f\u00fbt arrang\u00e9 quatre mois et quelques jours\ns'\u00e9coul\u00e8rent.\nCe ne fut qu'au commencement de f\u00e9vrier que nous quitt\u00e2mes P\u00e9king.--Mon\npartner et le vieux pilote se rendirent au port o\u00f9 nous avions d'abord\nd\u00e9barqu\u00e9 pour disposer de quelques marchandises que nous y avions\nlaiss\u00e9es, et moi avec un marchand chinois que j'avais connu \u00e0 Nanking,\net qui \u00e9tait venu \u00e0 P\u00e9king pour ses affaires, je m'en allai dans la\npremi\u00e8re de ces deux villes, o\u00f9 j'achetai quatre-vingt-dix pi\u00e8ces de\nbeau damas avec environ deux cents pi\u00e8ces d'autres belles \u00e9toffes de\nsoie de diff\u00e9rentes sortes, quelques-unes broch\u00e9es d'or; toutes ces\nacquisitions \u00e9taient d\u00e9j\u00e0 rendues \u00e0 P\u00e9king au retour de mon partner. En\noutre, nous achet\u00e2mes une partie consid\u00e9rable de soie \u00e9crue et plusieurs\nautres articles: notre pacotille s'\u00e9levait, rien qu'en ces marchandises,\n\u00e0 3,500 livres sterling, et avec du th\u00e9, quelques belles toiles peintes,\net trois charges de chameaux en noix muscades et clous de girofle, elle\nchargeait, pour notre part, dix-huit chameaux non compris ceux que nous\ndevions monter, ce qui, avec deux ou trois chevaux de main et deux\nautres chevaux charg\u00e9s de provisions, portait en somme notre suite \u00e0\nvingt-six chameaux ou chevaux.\nLa caravane \u00e9tait tr\u00e8s-nombreuse, et, autant que je puis me le rappeler,\nse composait de trois ou quatre cents chevaux et chameaux et de plus de\ncent vingt hommes tr\u00e8s-bien arm\u00e9s et pr\u00e9par\u00e9s \u00e0 tout \u00e9v\u00e9nement; car, si\nles caravanes orientales sont sujettes \u00e0 \u00eatre attaqu\u00e9es par les Arabes,\ncelles-ci sont sujettes \u00e0 l'\u00eatre par les Tartares, qui ne sont pas, \u00e0\nvrai dire, tout-\u00e0-fait aussi dangereux que les Arabes, ni si barbares\nquand ils ont le dessus.\nNotre compagnie se composait de gens de diff\u00e9rentes nations,\nprincipalement de Moscovites; il y avait bien une soixantaine de\nn\u00e9gociants ou habitants de Moscou, parmi lesquels se trouvaient quelques\nLivoniens, et, \u00e0 notre satisfaction toute particuli\u00e8re, cinq \u00c9cossais,\nhommes de poids et qui paraissaient tr\u00e8s-vers\u00e9s dans la science des\naffaires.\nApr\u00e8s une journ\u00e9e de marche, nos guides, qui \u00e9taient au nombre de cinq,\nappel\u00e8rent touts les _gentlemen_ et les marchands, c'est-\u00e0-dire touts\nles voyageurs, except\u00e9 les domestiques, pour tenir, disaient-ils, un\n_grand conseil_. \u00c0 ce grand conseil chacun d\u00e9posa une certaine somme \u00e0\nla masse commune pour payer le fourrage qu'on ach\u00e8terait en route,\nlorsqu'on ne pourrait en avoir autrement, pour les \u00e9moluments des\nguides, pour les chevaux de louage et autres choses semblables. Ensuite\nils constitu\u00e8rent le voyage, selon leur expression, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'ils\nnomm\u00e8rent des capitaines et des officiers pour nous diriger et nous\ncommander en cas d'attaque, et assign\u00e8rent \u00e0 chacun son tour de\ncommandement. L'\u00e9tablissement de cet ordre parmi nous ne fut rien moins\nqu'inutile le long du chemin, comme on le verra en son lieu.\nLA GRANDE MURAILLE.\nLa route, de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9-l\u00e0 du pays, est tr\u00e8s-peupl\u00e9e: elle est pleine de\npotiers et de modeleurs, c'est-\u00e0-dire d'artisans qui travaillent la\nterre \u00e0 porcelaine, et comme nous cheminions, notre pilote portugais,\nqui avait toujours quelque chose \u00e0 nous dire pour nous \u00e9gayer, vint \u00e0\nmoi en ricanant et me dit qu'il voulait me montrer la plus grande raret\u00e9\nde tout le pays, afin que j'eusse \u00e0 dire de la Chine, apr\u00e8s toutes les\nchoses d\u00e9favorables que j'en avais dites, que j'y avais vu une chose\nqu'on ne saurait voir dans tout le reste de l'univers. Intrigu\u00e9 au plus\nhaut point, je grillais du savoir ce que ce pouvait \u00eatre; \u00e0 la fin il le\ndit que c'\u00e9tait une maison de plaisance, toute b\u00e2tie en marchandises de\nChine (en _China ware_).--\u00abJ'y suis, lui dis-je, les mat\u00e9riaux dont elle\nest construite sont toute la production du pays? Et ainsi elle est toute\nen _China ware_, est-ce pas?\u00bb--\u00abNon, non, r\u00e9pondit-il, j'entends que\nc'est une maison enti\u00e8rement de _China ware_, comme vous dites en\nAngleterre, ou de _porcelaine_, comme on dit dans notre pays.\u00bb--\u00abSoit,\nrepris-je, cela est tr\u00e8s-possible. Mais comment est-elle grosse?\nPourrions-nous la transporter dans une caisse sur un chameau? Si cela se\npeut, nous l'ach\u00e8terons.\u00bb--\u00abSur un chameau!\u00bb s'\u00e9cria le vieux pilote\nlevant ses deux mains jointes, \u00abpeste! une famille de trente personnes y\nloge.\u00bb\nJe fus alors vraiment curieux de la voir, et quand nous arriv\u00e2mes aupr\u00e8s\nje trouvai tout bonnement une maison de charpente, une maison b\u00e2tie,\ncomme on dit en Angleterre, avec latte et pl\u00e2tre; mais dont touts les\ncr\u00e9pis \u00e9taient r\u00e9ellement de _China ware_, c'est-\u00e0-dire qu'elle \u00e9tait\nenduite de terre \u00e0 porcelaine.\nL'ext\u00e9rieur, sur lequel dardait le soleil, \u00e9tait verniss\u00e9, d'un bel\naspect, parfaitement blanc, peint de figures bleues, comme le sont les\ngrands vases de Chine qu'on voit en Angleterre, et aussi dur que s'il\ne\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 cuit. Quant \u00e0 l'int\u00e9rieur, toutes les murailles au lieu de\nboiseries \u00e9taient rev\u00eatues de tuiles durcies et \u00e9maill\u00e9es, comme les\npetits carreaux qu'on nomme en Angleterre _gally tiles_, et toutes\nfaites de la plus belle porcelaine, d\u00e9cor\u00e9e de figures d\u00e9licieuses d'une\nvari\u00e9t\u00e9 infinie de couleurs, m\u00e9lang\u00e9es d'or. Une seule figure occupait\nplusieurs de ces carreaux; mais avec un mastic fait de m\u00eame terre on les\navait si habilement assembl\u00e9s qu'il n'\u00e9tait gu\u00e8re possible de voir o\u00f9\n\u00e9taient les joints. Le pav\u00e9 des salles \u00e9tait de la m\u00eame mati\u00e8re, et\naussi solide que les aires de terre cuite en usage dans plusieurs\nparties de l'Angleterre, notamment dans le Lincolnshire, le\nNottinghamshire et le Leicestershire; il \u00e9tait dur comme une pierre, et\nuni, mais non pas \u00e9maill\u00e9 et peint, si ce n'est dans quelques petites\npi\u00e8ces ou cabinets, dont le sol \u00e9tait rev\u00eatu comme les parois. Les\nplafonds, en un mot touts les endroits de la maison \u00e9taient faits de\nm\u00eame terre; enfin le toit \u00e9tait couvert de tuiles semblables, mais d'un\nnoir fonc\u00e9 et \u00e9clatant.\nC'\u00e9tait vraiment \u00e0 la lettre un magasin de porcelaine, on pouvait \u00e0 bon\ndroit le nommer ainsi, et, si je n'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 en marche, je me serais\narr\u00eat\u00e9 l\u00e0 plusieurs jours pour l'examiner dans touts ses d\u00e9tails. On me\ndit que dans le jardin il y avait des fontaines et des viviers dont le\nfond et les bords \u00e9taient pav\u00e9s pareillement, et le long des all\u00e9es de\nbelles statues enti\u00e8rement faites en terre \u00e0 porcelaine, et cuites\ntoutes d'une pi\u00e8ce.\nC'est l\u00e0 une des singularit\u00e9s de la Chine, on peut accorder aux Chinois\nqu'ils excellent en ce genre; mais j'ai la certitude qu'ils n'excellent\npas moins dans les contes qu'ils font \u00e0 ce sujet, car ils m'ont dit de\nsi incroyables choses de leur habilet\u00e9 en poterie, des choses telles que\nje ne me soucie gu\u00e8re de les rapporter, dans la conviction o\u00f9 je suis\nqu'elles sont fausses. Un h\u00e2bleur me parla entre autres d'un ouvrier qui\navait fait en fayence un navire, avec touts ses apparaux, ses m\u00e2ts et\nses voiles, assez grand pour contenir cinquante hommes. S'il avait\najout\u00e9 qu'il l'avait lanc\u00e9, et que sur ce navire il avait fait un voyage\nau Japon, j'aurais pu dire quelque chose, mais comme je savais ce que\nvalait cette histoire, et, passez-moi l'expression, que le camarade\nmentait, je souris et gardai le silence.\nCet \u00e9trange spectacle me retint pendant deux heures derri\u00e8re la\ncaravane; aussi celui qui commandait ce jour-l\u00e0 me condamna-t-il \u00e0 une\namende d'environ trois shellings et me d\u00e9clara-t-il que si c'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 \u00e0\ntrois journ\u00e9es en dehors de la muraille, comme c'\u00e9tait \u00e0 trois journ\u00e9es\nen dehors, il m'en aurait co\u00fbt\u00e9 quatre fois autant et qu'il m'aurait\noblig\u00e9 \u00e0 demander pardon au premier jour du Conseil. Je promis donc\nd'\u00eatre plus exact, et je ne tardai pas \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre que l'ordre de se\ntenir touts ensemble \u00e9tait d'une n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 absolue pour notre commune\ns\u00fbret\u00e9.\nDeux jours apr\u00e8s nous pass\u00e2mes la grande muraille de la Chine, boulevart\n\u00e9lev\u00e9 contre les Tartares, ouvrage immense, dont la cha\u00eene sans fin\ns'\u00e9tend jusque sur des collines et des montagnes, o\u00f9 les rochers sont\ninfranchissables, et les pr\u00e9cipices tels qu'il n'est pas d'ennemis qui\npuissent y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer, qui puissent y gravir, ou, s'il en est, quelle\nmuraille pourrait les arr\u00eater! Son \u00e9tendue, nous dit-on, est d'\u00e0 peu\npr\u00e8s un millier de milles d'Angleterre, mais la contr\u00e9e qu'elle couvre\nn'en a que cinq cents, mesur\u00e9e en droite ligne, sans avoir \u00e9gard aux\ntours et retours qu'elle fait. Elle a environ quatre toises ou fathoms\nde hauteur et autant d'\u00e9paisseur en quelques endroits.\nL\u00e0, au pied de cette muraille, je m'arr\u00eatai une heure ou environ sans\nenfreindre nos r\u00e9glements, car la caravane mit tout ce temps \u00e0 d\u00e9filer\npar un guichet; je m'arr\u00eatai une heure, dis-je, \u00e0 la regarder de chaque\nc\u00f4t\u00e9, de pr\u00e8s et de loin, du moins \u00e0 regarder ce qui \u00e9tait \u00e0 la port\u00e9e\nde ma vue; et le guide de notre caravane qui l'avait exalt\u00e9e comme la\nmerveille du monde, manifesta un vif d\u00e9sir de savoir ce que j'en\npensais. Je lui dis que c'\u00e9tait une excellente chose contre les\nTartares. Il arriva qu'il n'entendit pas \u00e7a comme je l'entendais, et\nqu'il le prit pour un compliment; mais le vieux pilote sourit:--\u00abOh!\nsenhor Inglez, dit-il, vous parlez de deux couleurs.\u00bb--\u00abDe deux\ncouleurs! r\u00e9p\u00e9tai-je; qu'entendez-vous par l\u00e0?\u00bb--\u00abJ'entends que votre\nr\u00e9ponse para\u00eet blanche d'un c\u00f4t\u00e9 et noire de l'autre, gaie par l\u00e0 et\nsombre par ici: vous lui dites que c'est une bonne muraille contre les\nTartares: cela signifie pour moi qu'elle n'est bonne \u00e0 rien, sinon\ncontre les Tartares, ou qu'elle ne d\u00e9fendrait pas de tout autre ennemi.\nJe vous comprends, senhor Inglez, je vous comprends, r\u00e9p\u00e9tait-il en se\ngaussant; mais monsieur le Chinois vous comprend aussi de son c\u00f4t\u00e9.\u00bb\n--\u00abEh bien, senhor, repris-je, pensez-vous que cette muraille arr\u00eaterait\nune arm\u00e9e de gens de notre pays avec un bon train d'artillerie, ou nos\ning\u00e9nieurs avec deux compagnies de mineurs? En moins de dix jours n'y\nferaient-ils pas une br\u00e8che assez grande pour qu'une arm\u00e9e y p\u00fbt passer\nen front de bataille, ou ne la feraient-ils pas sauter, fondation et\ntout, de fa\u00e7on \u00e0 n'en pas laisser une trace?\u00bb--\u00abOui, oui, s'\u00e9cria-t-il,\nje sais tout cela.\u00bb--Le Chinois br\u00fblait de conna\u00eetre ce que j'avais dit:\nje permis au vieux pilote de le lui r\u00e9p\u00e9ter quelques jours apr\u00e8s; nous\n\u00e9tions alors presque sortis du territoire, et ce guide devait nous\nquitter bient\u00f4t; mais quand il sut ce que j'avais dit, il devint muet\ntout le reste du chemin, et nous sevra de ses belles histoires sur le\npouvoir et sur la magnificence des Chinois.\nApr\u00e8s avoir pass\u00e9 ce puissant rien, appel\u00e9 muraille, \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s\nsemblable \u00e0 la muraille des Pictes, si fameuse dans le Northumberland et\nb\u00e2tie par les romains, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 trouver le pays clairsem\u00e9\nd'habitants, ou plut\u00f4t les habitants confin\u00e9s dans des villes et des\nplaces fortes, \u00e0 cause des incursions et des d\u00e9pr\u00e9dations des Tartares,\nqui exercent le brigandage en grand, et auxquels ne pourraient r\u00e9sister\nles habitants sans armes d'une contr\u00e9e ouverte.\nJe sentis bient\u00f4t la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de nous tenir touts ensemble en caravane,\nchemin faisant; car nous ne tard\u00e2mes pas \u00e0 voir r\u00f4der autour de nous\nplusieurs troupes de Tartares. Quand je vins \u00e0 les appercevoir\ndistinctement, je m'\u00e9tonnai que l'Empire chinois ait pu \u00eatre conquis par\nde si mis\u00e9rables dr\u00f4les: ce ne sont que de vraies hordes, de vrais\ntroupeaux de Sauvages, sans ordre, sans discipline et sans tactique dans\nle combat.\nLeurs chevaux, pauvres b\u00eates maigres, affam\u00e9es et mal dress\u00e9es ne sont\nbons \u00e0 rien; nous le remarqu\u00e2mes d\u00e8s le premier jour que nous les v\u00eemes,\nce qui eut lieu aussit\u00f4t que nous e\u00fbmes p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 dans la partie d\u00e9serte\ndu pays; car alors notre commandant du jour donna la permission \u00e0 seize\nd'entre nous d'aller \u00e0 ce qu'ils appelaient une chasse. Ce n'\u00e9tait\nqu'une chasse au mouton, cependant cela pouvait \u00e0 bon droit se nommer\nchasse; car ces moutons sont les plus sauvages et les plus vites que\nj'aie jamais vus: seulement ils ne courent pas long-temps, aussi vous\n\u00eates s\u00fbr de votre affaire quand vous vous mettez \u00e0 leurs trousses. Ils\nse montrent g\u00e9n\u00e9ralement en troupeaux de trente ou quarante; et, comme\nde vrais moutons, ils se tiennent toujours ensemble quand ils fuient.\nDurant cette \u00e9trange esp\u00e8ce de chasse, le hasard voulut que nous\nrencontr\u00e2mes une quarantaine de Tartares. Chassaient-ils le mouton comme\nnous ou cherchaient-ils quelque autre proie, je ne sais; mais aussit\u00f4t\nqu'ils nous virent, l'un d'entre eux se mit \u00e0 souffler tr\u00e8s-fort dans\nune trompe, et il en sortit un son barbare que je n'avais jamais ou\u00ef\nauparavant, et que, soit dit en passant, je ne me soucierais pas\nd'entendre une seconde fois. Nous suppos\u00e2mes que c'\u00e9tait pour appeler \u00e0\neux leurs amis; et nous pens\u00e2mes vrai, car en moins d'un demi-quart\nd'heure une autre troupe de quarante ou cinquante parut \u00e0 un mille de\ndistance; mais la besogne \u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 faite, et voici comment:\nUn des marchands \u00e9cossais de Moscou se trouvait par hasard avec nous:\naussit\u00f4t qu'il entendit leur trompe il nous dit que nous n'avions rien\nautre \u00e0 faire qu'\u00e0 les charger imm\u00e9diatement, en toute h\u00e2te; et, nous\nrangeant touts en ligne, il nous demanda si nous \u00e9tions bien d\u00e9termin\u00e9s.\nNous lui r\u00e9pond\u00eemes que nous \u00e9tions pr\u00eats \u00e0 le suivre: sur ce il courut\ndroit \u00e0 eux. Nous regardant fixement, les Tartares s'\u00e9taient arr\u00eat\u00e9s\ntouts en troupeau, p\u00eale-m\u00eale et sans aucune esp\u00e8ce d'ordre; mais sit\u00f4t\nqu'ils nous virent avancer ils d\u00e9coch\u00e8rent leurs fl\u00e8ches, qui ne nous\natteignirent point, fort heureusement. Ils s'\u00e9taient tromp\u00e9s\nvraisemblablement non sur le but, mais sur la distance, car toutes leurs\nfl\u00e8ches tomb\u00e8rent pr\u00e8s de nous, si bien ajust\u00e9es, que si nous avions \u00e9t\u00e9\nenviron \u00e0 vingt verges plus pr\u00e8s, nous aurions eu plusieurs hommes tu\u00e9s\nou bless\u00e9s.\nNous f\u00eemes sur-le-champ halte, et, malgr\u00e9 l'\u00e9loignement, nous tir\u00e2mes\nsur eux et leur envoy\u00e2mes des balles de plomb pour leurs fl\u00e8ches de\nbois; puis au grand galop nous suiv\u00eemes notre d\u00e9charge, d\u00e9termin\u00e9s \u00e0\ntomber dessus sabre en main, selon les ordres du hardi \u00c9cossais qui nous\ncommandait. Ce n'\u00e9tait, il est vrai, qu'un marchand; mais il se\nconduisit dans cette occasion avec tant de vigueur et de bravoure, et en\nm\u00eame temps avec un si courageux sang-froid, que je ne sache pas avoir\njamais vu dans l'action un homme plus propre au commandement. Aussit\u00f4t\nque nous les joign\u00eemes, nous leur d\u00e9charge\u00e2mes nos pistolets \u00e0 la face\net nous d\u00e9ga\u00een\u00e2mes; mais ils s'enfuirent dans la plus grande confusion\nimaginable. Le choc fut seulement soutenu sur notre droite, o\u00f9 trois\nd'entre eux r\u00e9sist\u00e8rent, en faisant signe aux autres de se rallier \u00e0\neux: ceux-l\u00e0 avaient des esp\u00e8ces de grands cimeterres au poing et leurs\narcs pendus sur le dos. Notre brave commandant, sans enjoindre \u00e0\npersonne de le suivre, fondit sur eux au galop; d'un coup de crosse le\npremier fut renvers\u00e9 de son cheval, le second fut tu\u00e9 d'un coup de\npistolet, le troisi\u00e8me prit la fuite. Ainsi finit notre combat, o\u00f9 nous\ne\u00fbmes l'infortune de perdre touts les moutons que nous avions attrap\u00e9s.\nPas un seul de nos combattants ne fut tu\u00e9 ou bless\u00e9; mais du c\u00f4t\u00e9 des\nTartares cinq hommes rest\u00e8rent sur la place. Quel fut le nombre de leurs\nbless\u00e9s? nous ne p\u00fbmes le savoir; mais, chose certaine, c'est que\nl'autre bande fut si effray\u00e9e du bruit de nos armes, qu'elle s'enfuit\nsans faire aucune tentative contre nous.\nCHAMEAU VOL\u00c9.\nNous \u00e9tions lors de cette affaire sur le territoire chinois: c'est\npourquoi les Tartares ne se montr\u00e8rent pas tr\u00e8s-hardis; mais au bout de\ncinq jours nous entr\u00e2mes dans un vaste et sauvage d\u00e9sert qui nous retint\ntrois jours et trois nuits. Nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de porter notre eau avec\nnous dans de grandes outres, et de camper chaque nuit, comme j'ai ou\u00ef\ndire qu'on le fait dans les d\u00e9serts de l'Arabie.\nJe demandai \u00e0 nos guides \u00e0 qui appartenait ce pays-l\u00e0. Ils me dirent,\nque c'\u00e9tait une sorte de fronti\u00e8re qu'\u00e0 bon droit on pourrait nommer _No\nMan's Land_, la Terre de Personne, faisant partie du grand Karakathay ou\ngrande Tartarie, et d\u00e9pendant en m\u00eame temps de la Chine; et que, comme\non ne prenait aucun soin de pr\u00e9server ce d\u00e9sert des incursions des\nbrigands, il \u00e9tait r\u00e9put\u00e9 le plus dangereux de la route, quoique nous en\neussions de beaucoup plus \u00e9tendus \u00e0 traverser.\nEn passant par ce d\u00e9sert qui, de prime abord, je l'avoue, me remplit\nd'effroi, nous v\u00eemes deux ou trois fois de petites troupes de Tartares;\nmais ils semblaient tout entiers \u00e0 leurs propres affaires et ne\nparaissaient m\u00e9diter aucun dessein contre nous; et, comme l'homme qui\nrencontra le diable, nous pens\u00e2mes que s'ils n'avaient rien \u00e0 nous dire,\nnous n'avions rien \u00e0 leur dire: nous les laiss\u00e2mes aller.\nUne fois, cependant un de leurs partis s'approcha de nous, s'arr\u00eata pour\nnous contempler. Examinait-il ce qu'il devait faire, s'il devait nous\nattaquer ou non, nous ne savions pas. Quoi qu'il en f\u00fbt, apr\u00e8s l'avoir\nun peu d\u00e9pass\u00e9, nous form\u00e2mes une arri\u00e8re-garde de quarante hommes, et\nnous nous t\u00eenmes pr\u00eats \u00e0 le recevoir, laissant la caravane cheminer \u00e0 un\ndemi-mille ou environ devant nous. Mais au bout de quelques instants il\nse retira, nous saluant simplement \u00e0 son d\u00e9part, de cinq fl\u00e8ches, dont\nune blessa et estropia un de nos chevaux: nous abandonn\u00e2mes le lendemain\nla pauvre b\u00eate en grand besoin d'un bon mar\u00e9chal. Nous nous attendions \u00e0\nce qu'il nous d\u00e9cocherait de nouvelles fl\u00e8ches mieux ajust\u00e9es; mais,\npour cette fois, nous ne v\u00eemes plus ni fl\u00e8ches ni Tartares.\nNous march\u00e2mes apr\u00e8s ceci pr\u00e8s d'un mois par des routes moins bonnes que\nd'abord, quoique nous fussions toujours dans les \u00c9tats de l'Empereur de\nla Chine; mais, pour la plupart, elles traversaient des villages dont\nquelques-uns \u00e9taient fortifi\u00e9s, \u00e0 cause des incursions des Tartares. En\natteignant un de ces bourgs, \u00e0 deux journ\u00e9es et demie de marche de la\nville de Naum, j'eus curie d'acheter un chameau. Tout le long de cette\nroute il y en avait \u00e0 vendre en quantit\u00e9, ainsi que des chevaux tels\nquels, parce que les nombreuses caravanes qui suivent ce chemin en ont\nsouvent besoin. La personne \u00e0 laquelle je m'adressai pour me procurer un\nchameau serait all\u00e9 me le chercher; mais moi, comme un fou, par\ncourtoisie, je voulus l'accompagner. L'emplacement o\u00f9 l'on tenait les\nchameaux et les chevaux sous bonne garde se trouvait environ \u00e0 deux\nmilles du bourg.\nJe m'y rendis \u00e0 pied avec mon vieux pilote et un Chinois, d\u00e9sireux que\nj'\u00e9tais d'un peu de diversit\u00e9. En arrivant l\u00e0 nous v\u00eemes un terrain bas\net mar\u00e9cageux entour\u00e9 comme un parc d'une muraille de pierres empil\u00e9es \u00e0\nsec, sans mortier et sans liaison, avec une petite garde de soldats\nchinois \u00e0 la porte. Apr\u00e8s avoir fait choix d'un chameau, apr\u00e8s \u00eatre\ntomb\u00e9 d'accord sur le prix, je m'en revenais, et le Chinois qui m'avait\nsuivi conduisait la b\u00eate, quand tout-\u00e0-coup s'avanc\u00e8rent cinq Tartares \u00e0\ncheval: deux d'entre eux se saisirent du camarade et lui enlev\u00e8rent le\nchameau, tandis que les trois autres coururent sur mon vieux pilote et\nsur moi, nous voyant en quelque sorte sans armes; je n'avais que mon\n\u00e9p\u00e9e, mis\u00e9rable d\u00e9fense contre trois cavaliers. Le premier qui s'avan\u00e7a\ns'arr\u00eata court quand je mis flamberge au vent, ce sont d'insignes\ncouards; mais un second se jetant \u00e0 ma gauche m'assena un horion sur la\nt\u00eate; je ne le sentis que plus tard et je m'\u00e9tonnai, lorsque je revins \u00e0\nmoi, de ce qui avait eu lieu et de ma posture, car il m'avait renvers\u00e9 \u00e0\nplate terre. Mais mon fid\u00e8le pilote, mon vieux Portugais, par un de ces\ncoups heureux de la Providence, qui se pla\u00eet \u00e0 nous d\u00e9livrer des dangers\npar des voies impr\u00e9vues, avait un pistolet dans sa poche, ce que je ne\nsavais pas, non plus que les Tartares; s'ils l'avaient su, je ne pense\npas qu'ils nous eussent attaqu\u00e9s; les couards sont toujours les plus\nhardis quand il n'y a pas de danger.\nLe bon homme me voyant terrass\u00e9 marcha intr\u00e9pidement sur le camarade qui\nm'avait frapp\u00e9, et lui saisissant le bras d'une main et de l'autre\nl'attirant violemment \u00e0 lui, il lui d\u00e9chargea son pistolet dans la t\u00eate\net l'\u00e9tendit roide mort; puis il s'\u00e9lan\u00e7a imm\u00e9diatement sur celui qui\ns'\u00e9tait arr\u00eat\u00e9, comme je l'ai dit, et avant qu'il p\u00fbt s'avancer de\nnouveau, car tout ceci fut fait pour ainsi dire en un tour de main, il\nlui d\u00e9tacha un coup de cimeterre qu'il portait d'habitude. Il manqua\nl'homme mais il effleura la t\u00eate du cheval et lui abattit une oreille et\nune bonne tranche de la bajoue. Exasp\u00e9r\u00e9e par ses blessures, n'ob\u00e9issant\nplus \u00e0 son cavalier, quoiqu'il se t\u00eent bien en selle, la pauvre b\u00eate\nprit la fuite et l'emporta hors de l'atteinte du pilote. Enfin, se\ndressant sur les pieds de derri\u00e8re, elle culbuta le Tartare et se laissa\nchoir sur lui.\nDans ces entrefaites survint le pauvre Chinois qui avait perdu le\nchameau; mais il n'avait point d'armes. Cependant, appercevant le\nTartare abattu et \u00e9cras\u00e9 sous son cheval, il courut \u00e0 lui, empoignant un\ninstrument grossier et mal fait qu'il avait au c\u00f4t\u00e9, une mani\u00e8re de\nhache d'armes, il le lui arracha et lui fit sauter sa cervelle\ntartarienne. Or mon vieux pilote avait encore quelque chose \u00e0 d\u00e9m\u00ealer\navec le troisi\u00e8me chenapan. Voyant qu'il ne fuyait pas comme il s'y\n\u00e9tait attendu, qu'il ne s'avan\u00e7ait pas pour le combattre comme il le\nredoutait, mais qu'il restait l\u00e0 comme une souche, il se tint coi\nlui-m\u00eame et se mit \u00e0 recharger son pistolet. Sit\u00f4t que le Tartare\nentrevit le pistolet, s'imagina-t-il que c'en \u00e9tait un autre, je ne\nsais, il se sauva ventre \u00e0 terre, laissant \u00e0 mon pilote, mon champion,\ncomme je l'appelai depuis, une victoire compl\u00e8te.\nEn ce moment je commen\u00e7ais \u00e0 m'\u00e9veiller, car, en revenant \u00e0 moi, je crus\nsortir d'un doux sommeil; et, comme je l'ai dit, je restai l\u00e0 dans\nl'\u00e9tonnement de savoir o\u00f9 j'\u00e9tais, comment j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 jet\u00e9 par terre,\nce que tout cela signifiait; mai bient\u00f4t apr\u00e8s, recouvrant mes esprits,\nj'\u00e9prouvai une douleur vague, je portai la main \u00e0 ma t\u00eate, et je la\nretirai ensanglant\u00e9e. Je sentis alors des \u00e9lancements, la m\u00e9moire me\nrevint et tout se repr\u00e9senta dans mon esprit.\nJe me dressai subitement sur mes pieds, je me saisis de mon \u00e9p\u00e9e, mais\npoint d'ennemis! Je trouvai un Tartare \u00e9tendu mort et son cheval arr\u00eat\u00e9\ntranquillement pr\u00e8s de lui; et, regardant plus loin, j'apper\u00e7us mon\nchampion, mon lib\u00e9rateur, qui \u00e9tait all\u00e9 voir ce que le Chinois avait\nfait et qui s'en revenait avec son sabre \u00e0 la main. Le bon homme me\nvoyant sur pied vint \u00e0 moi en courant et m'embrassa dans un transport de\njoie, ayant eu d'abord quelque crainte que je n'eusse \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9; et me\nvoyant couvert de sang, il voulut visiter ma blessure: ce n'\u00e9tait que\npeu de chose, seulement, comme on dit, une t\u00eate cass\u00e9e. Je ne me\nressentis pas trop de ce horion, si ce n'est \u00e0 l'endroit m\u00eame qui avait\nre\u00e7u le coup et qui se cicatrisa au bout de deux ou trois jours.\nCette victoire apr\u00e8s tout ne nous procura pas grand butin, car nous\nperd\u00eemes un chameau et gagn\u00e2mes un cheval; mais ce qu'il y a de bon,\nc'est qu'en rentrant dans le village, l'homme, le vendeur, demanda \u00e0\n\u00eatre pay\u00e9 de son chameau. Je m'y refusai, et l'affaire fut port\u00e9e \u00e0\nl'audience du juge chinois du lieu, c'est-\u00e0-dire, comme nous dirions\nchez nous que nous all\u00e2mes devant un juge de paix. Rendons-lui justice,\nce magistrat se comporta avec beaucoup de prudence et d'impartialit\u00e9.\nApr\u00e8s avoir entendu les deux parties, il demanda gravement au Chinois\nqui \u00e9tait venu avec moi pour acheter le chameau de qui il \u00e9tait le\nserviteur.--\u00abJe ne suis pas serviteur, r\u00e9pondit-il, je suis all\u00e9\nsimplement avec l'\u00e9tranger.\u00bb--\u00ab\u00c0 la requ\u00eate de qui?\u00bb dit le juge.--\u00ab\u00c0 la\nrequ\u00eate de l'\u00e9tranger.\u00bb--\u00abAlors, reprit le _justice_, vous \u00e9tiez\nserviteur de l'\u00e9tranger pour le moment; et le chameau ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 livr\u00e9 \u00e0\nson serviteur, il a \u00e9t\u00e9 livr\u00e9 \u00e0 lui, et il faut, lui, qu'il le paie.\u00bb\nJ'avoue que la chose \u00e9tait si claire que je n'eus pas un mot \u00e0 dire.\nEnchant\u00e9 de la cons\u00e9quence tir\u00e9e d'un si juste raisonnement et de voir\nle cas si exactement \u00e9tabli, je payai le chameau de tout c\u0153ur et j'en\nenvoyai qu\u00e9rir un autre. Remarquez bien que j'y envoyai; je me donnai de\ngarde d'aller le chercher moi-m\u00eame: j'en avais assez comme \u00e7a.\nLa ville de Naum est sur la lisi\u00e8re de l'Empire chinois. On la dit\nfortifi\u00e9e et l'on dit vrai: elle l'est pour le pays; car je ne\ncraindrais pas d'affirmer que touts les Tartares du Karakathay, qui\nsont, je crois, quelques millions, ne pourraient pas en abattre les\nmurailles avec leurs arcs et leurs fl\u00e8ches; mais appeler cela une ville\nforte, si elle \u00e9tait attaqu\u00e9e avec du canon, ce serait vouloir se faire\nrire au nez par touts ceux qui s'y entendent.\nNous \u00e9tions encore, comme je l'ai dit, \u00e0 plus de deux journ\u00e9es de marche\nde cette ville, quand des expr\u00e8s furent exp\u00e9di\u00e9s sur toute la route pour\nordonner \u00e0 touts les voyageurs et \u00e0 toutes les caravanes de faire halte\njusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'on leur e\u00fbt envoy\u00e9 une escorte, parce qu'un corps\nformidable de Tartares, pouvant monter \u00e0 dix mille hommes, avait paru \u00e0\ntrente milles environ au-del\u00e0 de la ville.\nC'\u00e9tait une fort mauvaise nouvelle pour des voyageurs; cependant, de la\npart du gouverneur, l'attention \u00e9tait louable, et nous f\u00fbmes\ntr\u00e8s-contents d'apprendre que nous aurions une escorte. Deux jours apr\u00e8s\nnous re\u00e7\u00fbmes donc deux cents soldats d\u00e9tach\u00e9s d'une garnison chinoise\nsur notre gauche et trois cents autres de la ville de Naum, et avec ce\nrenfort nous avan\u00e7\u00e2mes hardiment. Les trois cents soldats de Naum\nmarchaient \u00e0 notre front, les deux cents autres \u00e0 l'arri\u00e8re-garde, nos\ngens de chaque c\u00f4t\u00e9 des chameaux charg\u00e9s de nos bagages, et toute la\ncaravane au centre. Dans cet ordre et bien pr\u00e9par\u00e9s au combat, nous nous\ncroyions \u00e0 m\u00eame de r\u00e9pondre aux dix mille Tartares-Mongols, s'ils se\npr\u00e9sentaient; mais le lendemain, quand ils se montr\u00e8rent, ce fut tout\nautre chose.\nDe tr\u00e8s-bonne heure dans la matin\u00e9e, comme nous quittions une petite\nville assez bien situ\u00e9e, nomm\u00e9e Changu, nous e\u00fbmes une rivi\u00e8re \u00e0\ntraverser. Nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de la passer dans un bac, et si les\nTartares eussent eu quelque intelligence, c'est alors qu'ils nous\neussent attaqu\u00e9s, tandis que la caravane \u00e9tait d\u00e9j\u00e0 sur l'autre rivage\net l'arri\u00e8re-garde encore en-de\u00e7\u00e0; mais personne ne parut en ce lieu.\nEnviron trois heures apr\u00e8s, quand nous f\u00fbmes entr\u00e9s dans un d\u00e9sert de\nquinze ou seize milles d'\u00e9tendue, \u00e0 un nuage de poussi\u00e8re qui s'\u00e9levait\nnous pr\u00e9sum\u00e2mes que l'ennemi \u00e9tait proche: et il \u00e9tait proche en effet,\ncar il arrivait sur nous \u00e0 toute bride.\nLes Chinois de notre avant-garde qui la veille avaient eu le verbe si\nhaut commenc\u00e8rent \u00e0 s'\u00e9branler; fr\u00e9quemment ils regardaient derri\u00e8re\neux, signe certain chez un soldat qu'il est pr\u00eat \u00e0 lever le camp. Mon\nvieux pilote fit la m\u00eame remarque; et, comme il se trouvait pr\u00e8s de moi,\nil m'appela:--\u00abSenhor Inglez, dit-il, il faut remettre du c\u0153ur au ventre\n\u00e0 ces dr\u00f4les, ou ils nous perdront touts, car si les Tartares\ns'avancent, ils ne r\u00e9sisteront pas.\u00bb--\u00abC'est aussi mon avis, lui\nr\u00e9pondis-je, mais que faire?\u00bb--\u00abQue faire! s'\u00e9cria-t-il, que de chaque\nc\u00f4t\u00e9 cinquante de nos hommes s'avancent, qu'ils flanquent ces peureux et\nles animent, et ils combattront comme de braves compagnons en brave\ncompagnie; sinon touts vont tourner casaque.\u00bb--L\u00e0-dessus je courus au\ngalop vers notre commandant, je lui parlai, il fut enti\u00e8rement de notre\navis: cinquante de nous se port\u00e8rent donc \u00e0 l'aile droite et cinquante \u00e0\nl'aile gauche, et le reste forma une ligne de r\u00e9serve. Nous poursuiv\u00eemes\nainsi notre route, laissant les derniers deux cents hommes faire un\ncorps \u00e0 part pour garder nos chameaux; seulement, si besoin \u00e9tait, ils\ndevaient envoyer une centaine des leurs pour assister nos cinquante\nhommes de r\u00e9serve.\nLES TARTARES-MONGOLS.\nBref les Tartares arriv\u00e8rent en foule: impossible \u00e0 nous de dire leur\nnombre, mais nous pens\u00e2mes qu'ils \u00e9taient dix mille tout au moins. Ils\nd\u00e9tach\u00e8rent d'abord un parti pour examiner notre attitude, en traversant\nle terrain sur le front de notre ligne. Comme nous le tenions \u00e0 port\u00e9e\nde fusil, notre commandant ordonna aux deux ailes d'avancer en toute\nh\u00e2te et de lui envoyer simultan\u00e9ment une salve de mousqueterie, ce qui\nfut fait. Sur ce, il prit la fuite, pour rendre compte, je pr\u00e9sume, de\nla r\u00e9ception qui attendait nos Tartares. Et il para\u00eetrait que ce salut\nne les mit pas en go\u00fbt, car ils firent halte imm\u00e9diatement. Apr\u00e8s\nquelques instants de d\u00e9lib\u00e9ration, faisant un demi-tour \u00e0 gauche, ils\nrenga\u00een\u00e8rent leur compliment et ne nous en dirent pas davantage pour\ncette fois, ce qui, vu les circonstances, ne fut pas tr\u00e8s-d\u00e9sagr\u00e9able:\nnous ne br\u00fblions pas excessivement de donner bataille \u00e0 une pareille\nmultitude.\nDeux jours apr\u00e8s ceci nous atteign\u00eemes la ville de Naum ou Nauma. Nous\nremerci\u00e2mes le gouverneur de ses soins pour nous, et nous f\u00eemes une\ncollecte qui s'\u00e9leva \u00e0 une centaine de crowns que nous donn\u00e2mes aux\nsoldats envoy\u00e9s pour notre escorte. Nous y rest\u00e2mes un jour. Naum est\ntout de bon une ville de garnison; il y avait bien neuf cents soldats,\net la raison en est qu'autrefois les fronti\u00e8res moscovites \u00e9taient\nbeaucoup plus voisines qu'elles ne le sont aujourd'hui, les Moscovites\nayant abandonn\u00e9 toute cette portion du pays (laquelle, \u00e0 l'Ouest de la\nville, s'\u00e9tend jusqu'\u00e0 deux cents milles environ), comme st\u00e9rile et\nind\u00e9frichable, et plus encore \u00e0 cause de son \u00e9loignement et de la\ndifficult\u00e9 qu'il y a d'y entretenir des troupes pour sa d\u00e9fense, car\nnous \u00e9tions encore \u00e0 deux mille milles de la Moscovie proprement dite.\nApr\u00e8s cette \u00e9tape nous e\u00fbmes \u00e0 passer plusieurs grandes rivi\u00e8res et deux\nterribles d\u00e9serts, dont l'un nous co\u00fbta seize jours de marche: c'est \u00e0\njuste titre, comme je l'ai dit, qu'ils pourraient se nommer _No Man's\nLand_, la Terre de Personne; et le 13 avril nous arriv\u00e2mes aux\nfronti\u00e8res des \u00c9tats moscovites. Si je me souviens bien la premi\u00e8re\ncit\u00e9, ville ou forteresse, comme il vous plaira, qui appartient au Czar\nde Moscovie, s'appelle Argun, situ\u00e9e qu'elle est sur la rive occidentale\nde la rivi\u00e8re de ce nom.\nJe ne pus m'emp\u00eacher de faire para\u00eetre une vive satisfaction en entrant\ndans ce que j'appelais un pays chr\u00e9tien, ou du moins dans un pays\ngouvern\u00e9 par des Chr\u00e9tiens; car, quoiqu'\u00e0 mon sens les Moscovites ne\nm\u00e9ritent que tout juste le nom de Chr\u00e9tiens, cependant ils se pr\u00e9tendent\ntels et sont tr\u00e8s-d\u00e9vots \u00e0 leur mani\u00e8re. Tout homme \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr qui\nvoyage par le monde comme je l'ai fait, s'il n'est pas incapable de\nr\u00e9flexion, tout homme, \u00e0 coup s\u00fbr, dis-je, en arrivera \u00e0 se bien\np\u00e9n\u00e9trer que c'est une b\u00e9n\u00e9diction d'\u00eatre n\u00e9 dans une contr\u00e9e o\u00f9 le nom\nde Dieu et d'un R\u00e9dempteur est connu, r\u00e9v\u00e9r\u00e9, ador\u00e9, et non pas dans un\npays o\u00f9 le peuple, abandonn\u00e9 par le Ciel \u00e0 de grossi\u00e8res impostures,\nadore le d\u00e9mon, se prosterne devant le bois et la pierre, et rend un\nculte aux monstres, aux \u00e9l\u00e9ments, \u00e0 des animaux de forme horrible, \u00e0 des\nstatues ou \u00e0 des images monstrueuses. Pas une ville, pas un bourg par o\u00f9\nnous venions de passer qui n'e\u00fbt ses pagodes, ses idoles, ses temples,\net dont la population ignorante n'ador\u00e2t jusqu'aux ouvrages de ses\nmains!\nAlors du moins nous \u00e9tions arriv\u00e9s en un lieu o\u00f9 tout respirait le culte\nchr\u00e9tien, o\u00f9, m\u00eal\u00e9e d'ignorance ou non, la religion chr\u00e9tienne \u00e9tait\nprofess\u00e9e et le nom du vrai Dieu invoqu\u00e9 et ador\u00e9. J'en \u00e9tais r\u00e9joui\njusqu'au fond de l'\u00e2me. Je saluai le brave marchand \u00e9cossais dont j'ai\nparl\u00e9 plus haut \u00e0 la premi\u00e8re nouvelle que j'en eus, et, lui prenant la\nmain, je lui dis:--\u00abB\u00e9ni soit Dieu! nous voici encore une fois revenus\nparmi les Chr\u00e9tiens!\u00bb--Il sourit, et me r\u00e9pondit:--\u00abCompatriote, ne vous\nr\u00e9jouissez pas trop t\u00f4t: ces Moscovites sont une \u00e9trange sorte de\nChr\u00e9tiens; ils en portent le nom, et voil\u00e0 tout; vous ne verrez pas\ngrand'chose de r\u00e9el avant quelques mois de plus de notre voyage.\u00bb\n--\u00abSoit, dis-je; mais toujours est-il que cela vaut mieux que le\npaganisme et l'adoration des d\u00e9mons.\u00bb--\u00abAttendez, reprit-il, je vous\ndirai qu'except\u00e9 les soldats russiens des garnisons et quelques\nhabitants des villes sur la route, tout le reste du pays jusqu'\u00e0 plus de\nmille milles au-del\u00e0 est habit\u00e9 par des payens ex\u00e9crables et\nstupides;\u00bb--comme en effet nous le v\u00eemes.\nNous \u00e9tions alors, si je comprends quelque chose \u00e0 la surface du globe,\nlanc\u00e9s \u00e0 travers la plus grande pi\u00e8ce de terre solide qui se puisse\ntrouver dans l'univers. Nous avions au moins douze cents milles jusqu'\u00e0\nla mer, \u00e0 l'Est; nous en avions au moins deux mille jusqu'au fond de la\nmer Baltique, du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'Ouest, et au moins trois mille si nous\nlaissions cette mer pour aller chercher au couchant le canal de la\nManche entre la France et l'Angleterre; nous avions cinq mille milles\npleins jusqu'\u00e0 la mer des Indes ou de Perse, vers le Sud, et environ\nhuit cents milles au Nord jusqu'\u00e0 la mer Glaciale. Si l'on en croit m\u00eame\ncertaines gens, il ne se trouve point de mer du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du Nord-Est\njusqu'au p\u00f4le, et cons\u00e9quemment dans tout le Nord-Ouest: un continent\nirait donc joindre l'Am\u00e9rique, nul mortel ne sait o\u00f9! mais d'excellentes\nraisons que je pourrais donner me portent \u00e0 croire que c'est une erreur.\nQuand nous f\u00fbmes entr\u00e9s dans les possessions moscovites, avant d'arriver\n\u00e0 quelque ville consid\u00e9rable, nous n'e\u00fbmes rien \u00e0 observer, sinon que\ntoutes les rivi\u00e8res coulent \u00e0 l'Est. Ainsi que je le reconnus sur les\ncartes que quelques personnes de la caravane avaient avec elles, il est\nclair qu'elles affluent toutes dans le grand fleuve Yamour ou Gammour.\nCe fleuve, d'apr\u00e8s son cours naturel, doit se jeter dans la mer ou Oc\u00e9an\nchinois. On nous raconta que ses bouches sont obstru\u00e9es par des joncs\nd'une crue monstrueuse, de trois pieds de tour et de vingt ou trente\npieds de haut. Qu'il me soit permis de dire que je n'en crois rien.\nComme on ne navigue pas sur ce fleuve, parce qu'il ne se fait point de\ncommerce de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, les Tartares qui, seuls, en sont les ma\u00eetres,\ns'adonnant tout entier \u00e0 leurs troupeaux, personne donc, que je sache,\nn'a \u00e9t\u00e9 assez curieux pour le descendre en bateaux jusqu'\u00e0 son\nembouchure, ou pour le remonter avec des navires. Chose positive, c'est\nque courant vers l'Est par une latitude de 60 degr\u00e9s, il emporte un\nnombre infini de rivi\u00e8res, et qu'il trouve dans cette latitude un Oc\u00e9an\npour verser ses eaux. Aussi est-on s\u00fbrs qu'il y a une mer par l\u00e0.\n\u00c0 quelques lieues au Nord de ce fleuve il se trouve plusieurs rivi\u00e8res\nconsid\u00e9rables qui courent aussi directement au Nord que le Yamour court\n\u00e0 l'Est. On sait qu'elles vont toutes se d\u00e9charger dans le grand fleuve\nTartarus, tirant son nom des nations les plus septentrionales d'entre\nles Tartares-Mongols, qui, au sentiment des Chinois, seraient les plus\nanciens Tartares du monde, et, selon nos g\u00e9ographes, les Gogs et Magogs\ndont il est fait mention dans l'histoire sacr\u00e9e.\nCes rivi\u00e8res courant toutes au Nord aussi bien que celles dont j'ai\nencore \u00e0 parler, d\u00e9montrent \u00e9videmment que l'Oc\u00e9an septentrional borne\naussi la terre de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, de sorte qu'il ne semble nullement rationnel\nde penser que le continent puisse se prolonger dans cette r\u00e9gion pour\naller joindre l'Am\u00e9rique, ni qu'il n'y ait point de communication entre\nl'Oc\u00e9an septentrional et oriental; mais je n'en dirai pas davantage\nl\u00e0-dessus: c'est une observation que je lis alors, voil\u00e0 pourquoi je\nl'ai consign\u00e9e ici. De la rivi\u00e8re Arguna nous pouss\u00e2mes en avant \u00e0 notre\naise et \u00e0 petites journ\u00e9es, et nous f\u00fbmes sensiblement oblig\u00e9s du soin\nque le Czar de Moscovie a pris de b\u00e2tir autant de cit\u00e9s et de villes que\npossible, o\u00f9 ses soldats tiennent garnison \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s comme ces colonies\nmilitaires post\u00e9es par les Romains dans les contr\u00e9es les plus recul\u00e9es\nde leur Empire, et dont quelques-unes, entre autres, \u00e0 ce que j'ai lu,\n\u00e9taient plac\u00e9es en Bretagne pour la s\u00fbret\u00e9 du commerce et pour\nl'h\u00e9bergement des voyageurs. C'\u00e9tait de m\u00eame ici; car partout o\u00f9 nous\npass\u00e2mes, bien que, en ces villes et en ces stations, la garnison et les\ngouverneurs fussent Russiens et professassent le Christianisme, les\nhabitants du pays n'\u00e9taient que de vrais payens, sacrifiant aux idoles\net adorant le soleil, la lune, les \u00e9toiles et toutes les arm\u00e9es du Ciel.\nJe dirai m\u00eame que de toutes les idol\u00e2tries, de touts les payens que je\nrencontrai jamais, c'\u00e9taient bien les plus barbares; seulement ces\nmis\u00e9rables ne mangeaient pas de chair humaine, comme font nos Sauvages\nde l'Am\u00e9rique.\nNous en v\u00eemes quelques exemples dans le pays entre Arguna, par o\u00f9 nous\nentr\u00e2mes dans les \u00c9tats moscovites, et une ville habit\u00e9e par des\nTartares et des Moscovites appel\u00e9e Nertzinskoy, o\u00f9 se trouve un d\u00e9sert,\nune for\u00eat continue qui nous demanda vingt-deux jours de marche. Dans un\nvillage pr\u00e8s la derni\u00e8re de ces places, j'eus la curiosit\u00e9 d'aller\nobserver la mani\u00e8re de vivre des gens du pays, qui est bien la plus\nbrute et la plus insoutenable. Ce jour-l\u00e0 il y avait sans doute grand\nsacrifice, car on avait dress\u00e9 sur un vieux tronc d'arbre une idole de\nbois aussi effroyable que le diable, du moins \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s comme nous nous\nfigurons qu'il doit \u00eatre repr\u00e9sent\u00e9: elle avait une t\u00eate qui assur\u00e9ment\nne ressemblait \u00e0 celle d'aucune cr\u00e9ature que le monde ait vue; des\noreilles aussi grosses que cornes d'un bouc et aussi longues; des yeux\nde la taille d'un \u00e9cu; un nez bossu comme une corne de b\u00e9lier, et une\ngueule carr\u00e9e et b\u00e9ante comme celle d'un lion, avec des dents horribles,\ncrochues comme le bec d'un perroquet. Elle \u00e9tait habill\u00e9e de la plus\nsale mani\u00e8re qu'on puisse s'imaginer: son v\u00eatement sup\u00e9rieur se\ncomposait de peaux de mouton, la laine tourn\u00e9e en dehors, et d'un grand\nbonnet tartare plant\u00e9 sur sa t\u00eate avec deux cornes passant au travers.\nElle pouvait avoir huit pieds du haut; mais elle n'avait ni pieds ni\njambes, ni aucune esp\u00e8ce de proportions.\nCet \u00e9pouvantail \u00e9tait \u00e9rig\u00e9 hors du village et quand j'en approchai il y\navait l\u00e0 seize ou dix-sept cr\u00e9atures, hommes ou femmes, je ne sais,--car\nils ne font point de distinction ni dans leurs habits ni dans leurs\ncoiffures,--toutes couch\u00e9es par terre \u00e0 plat ventre, autour de ce\nformidable et informe bloc de bois. Je n'appercevais pas le moindre\nmouvement parmi elles, pas plus que si elles eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 des souches\ncomme leur idole. Je le croyais d'abord tout de bon; mais quand je fus\nun peu plus pr\u00e8s, elles se dress\u00e8rent sur leurs pieds et pouss\u00e8rent un\nhurlement, \u00e0 belle gueule, comme l'e\u00fbt fait une meute de chiens, puis\nelles se retir\u00e8rent, vex\u00e9es sans doute de ce que nous les troublions. \u00c0\nune petite distance du monstre, \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e d'une tente ou hutte toute\nfaite de peaux de mouton et de peaux de vache s\u00e9ch\u00e9es, \u00e9taient post\u00e9s\ntrois hommes que je pris pour des bouchers parce qu'en approchant je vis\nde longs couteaux dans leurs mains et au milieu de la tente trois\nmoutons tu\u00e9s et un jeune b\u0153uf ou bouvillon. Selon toute apparence ces\nvictimes \u00e9taient pour cette b\u00fbche d'idole, \u00e0 laquelle appartenaient les\ntrois pr\u00eatres, et les dix-sept imb\u00e9cilles prostern\u00e9s avaient fourni\nl'offrande et adressaient leurs pri\u00e8res \u00e0 la b\u00fbche.\nJe confesse que je fus plus r\u00e9volt\u00e9 de leur stupidit\u00e9 et de cette\nbrutale adoration d'un _hobgoblin_, d'un fant\u00f4me, que du tout ce qui\nm'avait frapp\u00e9 dans le cours de ma vie. Oh! qu'il m'\u00e9tait douloureux de\nvoir la plus glorieuse, la meilleure cr\u00e9ature de Dieu, \u00e0 laquelle, par\nla cr\u00e9ation m\u00eame, il a octroy\u00e9 tant d'avantages, pr\u00e9f\u00e9rablement \u00e0 touts\nles autres ouvrages de ses mains, \u00e0 laquelle il a donn\u00e9 une \u00e2me\nraisonnable, dou\u00e9e de facult\u00e9s et de capacit\u00e9s, afin qu'elle honor\u00e2t son\nCr\u00e9ateur et qu'elle en f\u00fbt honor\u00e9e! oh! qu'il m'\u00e9tait douloureux de la\nvoir, dis-je, tomb\u00e9e et d\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e9r\u00e9e jusque l\u00e0 d'\u00eatre assez stupide pour se\nprosterner devant un rien hideux, un objet purement imaginaire, dress\u00e9\npar elle-m\u00eame, rendu terrible \u00e0 ses yeux par sa propre fantaisie, orn\u00e9\nseulement de torchons et de guenilles, et de songer que c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0\nl'effet d'une pure ignorance transform\u00e9e en d\u00e9votion infernale par le\ndiable lui-m\u00eame, qui, enviant \u00e0 son cr\u00e9ateur l'hommage et l'adoration de\nses cr\u00e9atures, les avait plong\u00e9es dans des erreurs si grossi\u00e8res, si\nd\u00e9go\u00fbtantes, si honteuses, si bestiales, qu'elles semblaient devoir\nchoquer la nature elle-m\u00eame!\nCHAM-CHI-THAUNGU.\nMais que signifiaient cet \u00e9bahissement et ces r\u00e9flexions? C'\u00e9tait ainsi;\nje le voyais devant mes yeux; impossible \u00e0 moi d'en douter. Tout mon\n\u00e9tonnement tournant en rage, je galopai vers l'image ou monstre, comme\nil vous plaira, et avec mon \u00e9p\u00e9e je pourfendis le bonnet qu'il avait sur\nla t\u00eate, au beau milieu, tellement qu'il pendait par une des cornes. Un\nde nos hommes qui se trouvait avec moi saisit alors la peau de mouton\nqui couvrait l'idole et l'arrachait, quand tout-\u00e0-coup une horrible\nclameur parcourut le village, et deux ou trois cents dr\u00f4les me tomb\u00e8rent\nsur les bras, si bien que je me sauvai sans demander mon reste, et\nd'autant plus volontiers que quelques-uns avaient des arcs et des\nfl\u00e8ches; mais je fis serment de leur rendre une nouvelle visite.\nNotre caravane demeura trois nuits dans la ville, distante de ce lieu de\nquatre ou cinq milles environ, afin de se pourvoir de quelques montures\ndont elle avait besoin, plusieurs de nos chevaux ayant \u00e9t\u00e9 surmen\u00e9s et\nestropi\u00e9s par le mauvais chemin et notre longue marche \u00e0 travers le\ndernier d\u00e9sert; ce qui nous donna le loisir de mettre mon dessein \u00e0\nex\u00e9cution.--Je communiquai mon projet au marchand \u00e9cossais de Moscou,\ndont le courage m'\u00e9tait bien connu. Je lui contai ce que j'avais vu et\nde quelle indignation j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 rempli en pensant que la nature\nhumaine p\u00fbt d\u00e9g\u00e9n\u00e9rer jusque l\u00e0. Je lui dis que si je pouvais trouver\nquatre ou cinq hommes bien arm\u00e9s qui voulussent me suivre, j'\u00e9tais\nr\u00e9solu \u00e0 aller d\u00e9truire cette immonde, cette abominable idole, pour\nfaire voir \u00e0 ses adorateurs que ce n'\u00e9tait qu'un objet indigne de leur\nculte et de leurs pri\u00e8res, incapable de se d\u00e9fendre lui-m\u00eame, bien loin\nde pouvoir assister ceux qui lui offraient des sacrifices.\nIl se prit \u00e0 rire.--\u00abVotre z\u00e8le peut \u00eatre bon, me dit-il; mais que vous\nproposez-vous par l\u00e0?\u00bb--\u00abCe que je me propose! m'\u00e9criai-je, c'est de\nvenger l'honneur de Dieu qui est insult\u00e9 par cette adoration\nsatanique.\u00bb--\u00abMais comment cela vengerait-il l'honneur de Dieu,\nreprit-il, puisque ces gens ne seront pas \u00e0 m\u00eame de comprendre votre\nintention, \u00e0 moins que vous ne leur parliez et ne la leur expliquiez,\net, alors, ils vous battront, je vous l'assure, car ce sont d'enrag\u00e9s\ncoquins, et surtout quand il s'agit de la d\u00e9fense de leur\nidol\u00e2trie.\u00bb--\u00abNe pourrions-nous pas le faire de nuit, dis-je, et leur en\nlaisser les raisons par \u00e9crit, dans leur propre langage?\u00bb--\u00abPar \u00e9crit!\nr\u00e9p\u00e9ta-t-il; peste! Mais dans cinq de leurs nations il n'y a pas un seul\nhomme qui sache ce que c'est qu'une lettre, qui sache lire un mot dans\naucune langue m\u00eame dans la leur.\u00bb--\u00abMis\u00e9rable ignorance!...\u00bb\nm'\u00e9criai-je. \u00abJ'ai pourtant grande envie d'accomplir mon dessein;\npeut-\u00eatre la nature les am\u00e8nera-t-elle \u00e0 en tirer des inductions, et \u00e0\nreconna\u00eetre combien ils sont stupides d'adorer ces hideuses\nmachines.\u00bb--\u00abCela vous regarde, sir, reprit-il; si votre z\u00e8le vous y\npousse si imp\u00e9rieusement, faites-le; mais auparavant qu'il vous plaise\nde consid\u00e9rer que ces peuples sauvages sont assuj\u00e9tis par la force \u00e0 la\ndomination du Czar de Moscovie; que si vous faites le coup, il y a dix\ncontre un \u00e0 parier qu'ils viendront par milliers se plaindre au\ngouverneur de Nertzinskoy et demander satisfaction, et que si on ne peut\nleur donner satisfaction, il y a dix contre un \u00e0 parier qu'ils\nr\u00e9volteront et que ce sera l\u00e0 l'occasion d'une nouvelle guerre avec\ntouts les tartares de ce pays.\u00bb\nCeci, je l'avoue, me mit pour un moment de nouvelles pens\u00e9es en t\u00eate;\nmais j'en revenais toujours \u00e0 ma premi\u00e8re id\u00e9e et toute cette journ\u00e9e\nl'ex\u00e9cution de mon projet me tourmenta[28]. Vers le soir le marchand\n\u00e9cossais m'ayant rencontr\u00e9 par hasard dans notre promenade autour de la\nville, me demanda \u00e0 s'entretenir avec moi.--\u00abJe crains, me dit-il, de\nvous avoir d\u00e9tourn\u00e9 de votre bon dessein: j'en ai \u00e9t\u00e9 un peu pr\u00e9occup\u00e9\ndepuis, car j'abhorre les idoles et l'idol\u00e2trie tout autant que vous\npouvez le faire.\u00bb--\u00abFranchement, lui r\u00e9pondis-je, vous m'avez quelque\npeu d\u00e9concert\u00e9 quant \u00e0 son ex\u00e9cution, mais vous ne l'avez point\nenti\u00e8rement chass\u00e9 de mon esprit, et je crois fort que je l'accomplirai\navant de quitter ce lieu, duss\u00e9-je leur \u00eatre livr\u00e9 en\nsatisfaction.\u00bb--\u00abNon, non, dit-il, \u00e0 Dieu ne plaise qu'on vous livre \u00e0\nune pareille engeance de montres! On ne le fera pas; ce serait vous\nassassiner.\u00bb--\u00abOui-d\u00e0, fis-je, eh! comment me traiteraient-ils\ndonc?\u00bb--\u00abComment ils vous traiteraient! s'\u00e9cria-t-il; \u00e9coutez, que je\nvous conte comment ils ont accommod\u00e9 un pauvre Russien qui, les ayant\ninsult\u00e9s dans leur culte, juste comme vous avez fait, tomba entre leurs\nmains. Apr\u00e8s l'avoir estropi\u00e9 avec un dard pour qu'il ne p\u00fbt s'enfuir,\nils le prirent, le mirent tout nu, le pos\u00e8rent sur le haut de leur\nidole-monstre, se rang\u00e8rent tout autour et lui tir\u00e8rent autant de\nfl\u00e8ches qu'il s'en put ficher dans son corps; puis ils le br\u00fbl\u00e8rent lui\net toutes les fl\u00e8ches dont il \u00e9tait h\u00e9riss\u00e9, comme pour l'offrir en\nsacrifice \u00e0 leur idole.\u00bb--\u00ab\u00c9tait-ce la m\u00eame idole?\u00bb fis-je.--\u00abOui,\ndit-il, justement la m\u00eame.\u00bb--\u00abEh! bien,\u00bb repris-je, \u00ab\u00e0 mon tour, que je\nvous conte une histoire;\u00bb--L\u00e0-dessus je lui rapportai l'aventure de nos\nAnglais \u00e0 Madagascar, et comment ils avaient incendi\u00e9 et mis \u00e0 sac un\nvillage et tu\u00e9 hommes, femmes et enfants pour venger le meurtre de nos\ncompagnons, ainsi que cela a \u00e9t\u00e9 relat\u00e9 pr\u00e9c\u00e9demment; puis, quand j'eus\nfinis, j'ajoutai que je pensais que nous devions faire de m\u00eame \u00e0 ce\nvillage.\nIl \u00e9couta tr\u00e8s-attentivement toute l'histoire, mais quand je parlai de\nfaire de m\u00eame \u00e0 ce village, il me dit:--\u00abVous vous trompez fort, ce\nn'est pas ce village, c'est au moins \u00e0 cent milles plus loin; mais\nc'\u00e9tait bien la m\u00eame idole, car on la charrie en procession dans tout le\npays.\u00bb--\u00abEh! bien, alors,\u00bb dis-je, \u00abque l'idole soit punie! et elle le\nsera, que je vive jusqu'\u00e0 cette nuit!\u00bb\nBref, me voyant r\u00e9solu, l'aventure le s\u00e9duisit, et il me dit que je\nn'irais pas seul, qu'il irait avec moi et qu'il m'am\u00e8nerait pour nous\naccompagner un de ses compatriotes, un drille, disait-il, aussi fameux\nque qui que ce soit pour son z\u00e8le contre toutes pratiques diaboliques.\nBref, il m'amena ce camarade, cet \u00c9cossais qu'il appelait capitaine\nRichardson. Je lui fis au long le r\u00e9cit de ce que j'avais vu et de ce\nque je projetais, et sur-le-champ il me dit qu'il voulait me suivre,\nd\u00fbt-il lui en co\u00fbter la vie. Nous conv\u00eenmes de partir seulement nous\ntrois. J'en avais bien fait la proposition \u00e0 mon partner, mais il s'en\n\u00e9tait excus\u00e9. Il m'avait dit que pour ma d\u00e9fense il \u00e9tait pr\u00eat \u00e0\nm'assister de toutes ses forces et en toute occasion; mais que c'\u00e9tait\nune entreprise tout-\u00e0-fait en dehors de sa voie: ainsi, dis-je, nous\nr\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de nous mettre en campagne seulement nous trois et mon\nserviteur, et d'ex\u00e9cuter le coup cette nuit m\u00eame sur le minuit, avec\ntout le secret imaginable.\nCependant, toute r\u00e9flexion faite, nous juge\u00e2mes bon de renvoyer la\npartie \u00e0 la nuit suivante, parce que la caravane devant se mettre en\nroute dans la matin\u00e9e du surlendemain, nous pens\u00e2mes que le gouverneur\nne pourrait pr\u00e9tendre donner satisfaction \u00e0 ces barbares \u00e0 nos d\u00e9pens\nquand nous serions hors de son pouvoir. Le marchand \u00e9cossais, aussi\nferme dans ses r\u00e9solutions que hardi dans l'ex\u00e9cution, m'apporta une\nrobe de Tartare ou gonelle de peau de mouton, un bonnet avec un arc et\ndes fl\u00e8ches, et s'en pourvut lui-m\u00eame ainsi que son compatriote, afin\nque si nous venions \u00e0 \u00eatre apper\u00e7us on ne p\u00fbt savoir qui nous \u00e9tions.\nNous pass\u00e2mes toute la premi\u00e8re nuit \u00e0 mixtionner quelques mati\u00e8res\ncombustibles avec de l'_aqua-vit\u00e6_, de la poudre \u00e0 canon et autres\ndrogues que nous avions pu nous procurer, et le lendemain, ayant une\nbonne quantit\u00e9 de goudron dans un petit pot, environ une heure apr\u00e8s le\nsoleil couch\u00e9 nous part\u00eemes pour notre exp\u00e9dition.\nQuand nous arriv\u00e2mes, il \u00e9tait \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s onze heures du soir: nous ne\nremarqu\u00e2mes pas que le peuple e\u00fbt le moindre soup\u00e7on du danger qui\nmena\u00e7ait son idole. La nuit \u00e9tait sombre, le ciel \u00e9tait couvert de\nnuages; cependant la lune donnait assez de lumi\u00e8re pour laisser voir que\nl'idole \u00e9tait juste dans les m\u00eames posture et place qu'auparavant. Les\nhabitants semblaient tout entiers \u00e0 leur repos; seulement dans la grande\nhutte ou tente, comme nous l'appelions, o\u00f9 nous avions vu les trois\npr\u00eatres que nous avions pris pour des bouchers, nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes une\nlueur, et en nous glissant pr\u00e8s de la porte, nous entend\u00eemes parler,\ncomme s'il y avait cinq ou six personnes. Il nous parut donc de toute\n\u00e9vidence que si nous mettions le feu \u00e0 l'idole, ces gens sortiraient\nimm\u00e9diatement et s'\u00e9lanceraient sur nous pour la sauver de la\ndestruction que nous pr\u00e9m\u00e9ditions; mais comment faire? nous \u00e9tions fort\nembarrass\u00e9s. Il nous passa bien par l'esprit de l'emporter et de la\nbr\u00fbler plus loin; mais quand nous v\u00eenmes \u00e0 y mettre la main, nous la\ntrouv\u00e2mes trop pesante pour nos forces et nous retomb\u00e2mes dans la m\u00eame\nperplexit\u00e9. Le second \u00c9cossais \u00e9tait d'avis de mettre le feu \u00e0 la hutte\net d'assommer les dr\u00f4les qui s'y trouvaient \u00e0 mesure qu'ils montreraient\nle nez; mais je m'y opposai, je n'entendais point qu'on tu\u00e2t personne,\ns'il \u00e9tait possible de l'\u00e9viter.--\u00abEh bien, alors, dit le marchand\n\u00e9cossais, voil\u00e0 ce qu'il nous faut faire: t\u00e2chons de nous emparer d'eux,\nlions-leur les mains, et for\u00e7ons-les \u00e0 assister \u00e0 la destruction de leur\nidole.\u00bb\nComme il se trouvait que nous n'avions pas mal de cordes et de ficelles\nqui nous avaient servi \u00e0 lier nos pi\u00e8ces d'artifice, nous nous\nd\u00e9termin\u00e2mes \u00e0 attaquer d'abord les gens de la cabane, et avec aussi peu\nde bruit que possible. Nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes par heurter \u00e0 la porte, et quand\nun des pr\u00eatres se pr\u00e9senta, nous nous en sais\u00eemes brusquement, nous lui\nbouch\u00e2mes la bouche, nous lui li\u00e2mes les mains sur le dos et le\nconduis\u00eemes vers l'idole, o\u00f9 nous le baillonn\u00e2mes pour qu'il ne p\u00fbt\njeter des cris: nous lui attach\u00e2mes aussi les pieds et le laiss\u00e2mes par\nterre.\nDeux d'entre nous guett\u00e8rent alors \u00e0 la porte, comptant que quelque\nautre sortirait pour voir de quoi il \u00e9tait question. Nous attend\u00eemes\njusqu'\u00e0 ce que notre troisi\u00e8me compagnon nous e\u00fbt rejoint; mais personne\nne se montrant, nous heurt\u00e2mes de nouveau tout doucement. Aussit\u00f4t\nsortirent deux autres individus que nous accommod\u00e2mes juste de la m\u00eame\nmani\u00e8re; mais nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de nous mettre touts apr\u00e8s eux pour les\ncoucher par terre pr\u00e8s de l'idole, \u00e0 quelque distance l'un de l'autre.\nQuand nous rev\u00eenmes nous en v\u00eemes deux autres \u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e de la hutte et\nun troisi\u00e8me se tenant derri\u00e8re en dedans de la porte. Nous empoign\u00e2mes\nles deux premiers et les li\u00e2mes sur-le-champ. Le troisi\u00e8me se prit alors\n\u00e0 crier en se reculant; mais mon \u00c9cossais le suivit, et prenant une\ncomposition que nous avions faite, une mixtion propre \u00e0 r\u00e9pandre\nseulement de la fum\u00e9e et de la puanteur, il y mit le feu et la jeta au\nbeau milieu de la hutte. Dans l'entrefaite l'autre \u00c9cossais et mon\nserviteur s'occupant des deux hommes d\u00e9j\u00e0 li\u00e9s, les attach\u00e8rent ensemble\npar le bras, les men\u00e8rent aupr\u00e8s de l'idole; puis, pour qu'ils vissent\nsi elle les secourerait, ils les laiss\u00e8rent l\u00e0, ayant grande h\u00e2te de\nvenir vers nous.\nQuand l'artifice que nous avions jet\u00e9 eut tellement rempli la hutte de\nfum\u00e9e qu'on y \u00e9tait presque suffoqu\u00e9, nous y lan\u00e7\u00e2mes un sachet de cuir\nd'une autre esp\u00e8ce qui flambait comme une chandelle; nous le suiv\u00eemes,\net nous n'apper\u00e7\u00fbmes que quatre personnes, deux hommes et deux femmes \u00e0\nce que nous cr\u00fbmes, venus sans doute pour quelque sacrifice diabolique.\nIls nous parurent dans une frayeur mortelle, ou du moins tremblants,\nstup\u00e9fi\u00e9s, et \u00e0 cause de la fum\u00e9e incapables de prof\u00e9rer une parole.\nDESTRUCTION DE CHAM-CHI-THAUNGU.\nEn un mot, nous les pr\u00eemes, nous les garrott\u00e2mes comme les autres, et le\ntout sans aucun bruit. J'aurais d\u00fb dire que nous les emmen\u00e2mes hors de\nla hutte d'abord, car tout comme \u00e0 eux la fum\u00e9e nous fut insupportable.\nCeci fait nous les conduis\u00eemes touts ensemble vers l'idole, et arriv\u00e9s\nl\u00e0 nous nous m\u00eemes \u00e0 la travailler: d'abord nous la barbouill\u00e2mes du\nhaut en bas, ainsi que son accoutrement, avec du goudron, et certaine\nautre mati\u00e8re que nous avions, compos\u00e9e de suif et de soufre; nous lui\nbourr\u00e2mes ensuite les yeux, les oreilles et la gueule de poudre \u00e0 canon;\npuis nous entortill\u00e2mes dans son bonnet une grande pi\u00e8ce d'artifice, et\nquand nous l'e\u00fbmes couverte de touts les combustibles que nous avions\napport\u00e9s nous regard\u00e2mes autour de nous pour voir si nous pourrions\ntrouver quelque chose pour son embrasement. Tout-\u00e0-coup mon serviteur se\nsouvint que pr\u00e8s de la hutte il y avait un tas de fourrage sec, de la\npaille ou du foin, je ne me rappelle pas: il y courut avec un des\n\u00c9cossais et ils en apport\u00e8rent plein leurs bras. Quand nous e\u00fbmes achev\u00e9\ncette besogne nous pr\u00eemes touts nos prisonniers, nous les rapproch\u00e2mes,\nayant les pieds d\u00e9li\u00e9s et la bouche d\u00e9baillonn\u00e9e nous les f\u00eemes tenir\ndebout et les plant\u00e2mes juste devant leur monstrueuse idole, puis nous y\nm\u00eemes feu de tout c\u00f4t\u00e9.\nNous demeur\u00e2mes l\u00e0 un quart d'heure ou environ avant que la poudre des\nyeux, de la bouche et des oreilles de l'idole saut\u00e2t; cette explosion,\ncomme il nous fut facile de le voir, la fendit et la d\u00e9figura toute; en\nun mot, nous demeur\u00e2mes l\u00e0 jusqu'\u00e0 ce que nous la v\u00eemes s'embraser et ne\nformer plus qu'une souche, qu'un bloc de bois. Apr\u00e8s l'avoir entour\u00e9e de\nfourrage sec, ne doutant pas qu'elle ne f\u00fbt bient\u00f4t enti\u00e8rement\nconsum\u00e9e, nous nous disposions \u00e0 nous retirer, mais l'\u00c9cossais nous\ndit:--\u00abNe partons pas, car ces pauvres mis\u00e9rables dupes seraient\ncapables de se jeter dans le feu pour se faire r\u00f4tir avec leur\nidole.\u00bb--Nous consent\u00eemes donc \u00e0 rester jusqu'\u00e0 ce que le fourrage f\u00fbt\nbr\u00fbl\u00e9, puis, nous f\u00eemes volte-face, et les quitt\u00e2mes.\nLe matin nous par\u00fbmes parmi nos compagnons de voyage excessivement\noccup\u00e9s \u00e0 nos pr\u00e9paratifs de d\u00e9part: personne ne se serait imagin\u00e9 que\nnous \u00e9tions all\u00e9s ailleurs que dans nos lits, comme raisonnablement tout\nvoyageur doit faire, pour se pr\u00e9parer aux fatigues d'une journ\u00e9e de\nmarche.\nMais ce n'\u00e9tait pas fini, le lendemain une grande multitude de gens du\npays, non-seulement de ce village mais de cent autres, se pr\u00e9senta aux\nportes de la ville, et d'une fa\u00e7on fort insolente, demanda satisfaction\nau gouverneur de l'outrage fait \u00e0 leurs pr\u00eatres et \u00e0 leur grand\nCham-Chi-Thaungu; c'\u00e9tait l\u00e0 le nom f\u00e9roce qu'il donnait \u00e0 la\nmonstrueuse cr\u00e9ature qu'ils adoraient. Les habitants de Nertzinskoy\nfurent d'abord dans une grande consternation: ils disaient que les\nTartares \u00e9taient trente mille pour le moins, et qu'avant peu de jours\nils seraient cent mille et au-del\u00e0.\nLe gouverneur russien leur envoya des messagers pour les appaiser et\nleur donner toutes les bonnes paroles imaginables. Il les assura qu'il\nne savait rien de l'affaire; que pas un homme de la garnison n'ayant mis\nle pied dehors, le coupable ne pouvait \u00eatre parmi eux; mais que s'ils\nvoulaient le lui faire conna\u00eetre il serait exemplairement puni. Ils\nr\u00e9pondirent hautainement que toute la contr\u00e9e r\u00e9v\u00e9rait le grand\nCham-Chi-Thaungu qui demeurait dans le soleil, et que nul mortel n'e\u00fbt\nos\u00e9 outrager son image, hors quelque chr\u00e9tien m\u00e9cr\u00e9ant (ce fut l\u00e0 leur\nexpression, je crois), et qu'ainsi ils lui d\u00e9claraient la guerre \u00e0 lui\net \u00e0 touts les Russiens, qui, disaient-ils, \u00e9taient des infid\u00e8les, des\nchr\u00e9tiens.\nLe gouverneur, toujours patient, ne voulant point de rupture, ni qu'on\np\u00fbt en rien l'accuser d'avoir provoqu\u00e9 la guerre, le Czar lui ayant\n\u00e9troitement enjoint de traiter le pays conquis avec b\u00e9nignit\u00e9 et\ncourtoisie, leur donna encore toutes les bonnes paroles possibles; \u00e0 la\nfin il leur dit qu'une caravane \u00e9tait partie pour la Russie le matin\nm\u00eame, que quelqu'un peut-\u00eatre des voyageurs leur avait fait cette\ninjure, et que, s'ils voulaient en avoir l'assurance, il enverrait apr\u00e8s\neux pour en informer. Ceci parut les appaiser un peu, et le gouverneur\nnous d\u00e9p\u00eacha donc un courrier pour nous exposer l'\u00e9tat des choses, en\nnous intimant que si quelques hommes de notre caravane avaient fait le\ncoup, ils feraient bien de se sauver, et, coupables ou non, que nous\nferions bien de nous avancer en toute h\u00e2te, tandis qu'il les amuserait\naussi long-temps qu'il pourrait.\nC'\u00e9tait tr\u00e8s-obligeant de la part du gouverneur. Toutefois lorsque la\ncaravane fut instruite de ce message, personne n'y comprit rien, et\nquant \u00e0 nous qui \u00e9tions les coupables, nous f\u00fbmes les moins soup\u00e7onn\u00e9s\nde touts: on ne nous fit pas seulement une question. N\u00e9anmoins le\ncapitaine qui pour le moment commandait la caravane, profita de l'avis\nque le gouverneur nous donnait, et nous march\u00e2mes ou voyage\u00e2mes deux\njours et deux nuits, presque sans nous arr\u00eater. Enfin nous nous\nrepos\u00e2mes \u00e0 un village nomm\u00e9 Plothus, nous n'y f\u00eemes pas non plus une\nlongue station, voulant gagner au plus t\u00f4t Jarawena, autre colonie du\nCzar de Moscovie o\u00f9 nous esp\u00e9rions \u00eatre en s\u00fbret\u00e9. Une chose \u00e0\nremarquer, c'est qu'apr\u00e8s deux ou trois jours de marche, au-del\u00e0 de\ncette ville, nous commen\u00e7\u00e2mes \u00e0 entrer dans un vaste d\u00e9sert sans nom\ndont je parlerai plus au long en son lieu, et que si alors nous nous y\nfussions trouv\u00e9s, il est plus que probable que nous aurions \u00e9t\u00e9 touts\nd\u00e9truits. Ce fut le lendemain de notre d\u00e9part de Plothus, que des nuages\nde poussi\u00e8re qui s'\u00e9levaient derri\u00e8re nous \u00e0 une grande distance firent\nsoup\u00e7onner \u00e0 quelques-uns des n\u00f4tres que nous \u00e9tions poursuivis. Nous\n\u00e9tions entr\u00e9s dans le d\u00e9sert, et nous avions long\u00e9 un grand lac, appel\u00e9\nShanks-Oser, quand nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes un corps nombreux de cavaliers de\nl'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 du lac vers le Nord. Nous remarqu\u00e2mes qu'ils se dirigeaient\nainsi que nous vers l'Ouest, mais fort heureusement ils avaient suppos\u00e9\nque nous avions pris la rive Nord, tandis que nous avions pris la rive\nSud. Deux jours apr\u00e8s nous ne les v\u00eemes plus, car pensant que nous\n\u00e9tions toujours devant eux ils pouss\u00e8rent jusqu'\u00e0 la rivi\u00e8re Udda: plus\nloin, vers le Nord, c'est un courant consid\u00e9rable, mais \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9\nnous la pass\u00e2mes, elle est \u00e9troite et gu\u00e9able.\nLe troisi\u00e8me jour, soit qu'ils se fussent apper\u00e7u de leur m\u00e9prise, soit\nqu'ils eussent eu de nos nouvelles, ils revinrent sur nous ventre \u00e0\nterre, \u00e0 la brune. Nous venions justement de choisir, \u00e0 notre grande\nsatisfaction, une place tr\u00e8s-convenable pour camper pendant la nuit,\ncar, bien que nous ne fussions qu'\u00e0 l'entr\u00e9e d'un d\u00e9sert dont la\nlongueur \u00e9tait de plus de cinq cents milles, nous n'avions point de\nvilles o\u00f9 nous retirer, et par le fait nous n'en avions d'autre \u00e0\nattendre que Jarawena, qui se trouvait encore \u00e0 deux journ\u00e9es de marche.\nCe d\u00e9sert, cependant, avait quelque peu de bois de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9, et de\npetites rivi\u00e8res qui couraient toutes se jeter dans la grande rivi\u00e8re\nUdda. Dans un passage \u00e9troit entre deux bocages tr\u00e8s-\u00e9pais nous avions\nassis notre camp pour cette nuit, redoutant une attaque nocturne.\nPersonne, except\u00e9 nous, ne savait, pourquoi nous \u00e9tions poursuivis; mais\ncomme les Tartares-Mongols ont pour habitude de r\u00f4der en troupes dans le\nd\u00e9sert, les caravanes ont coutume de se fortifier ainsi contre eux\nchaque nuit, comme contre des arm\u00e9es de voleurs; cette poursuite n'\u00e9tait\ndonc pas chose nouvelle.\nOr nous avions cette nuit le camp le plus avantageux que nous eussions\njamais eu: nous \u00e9tions post\u00e9s entre deux bois, un petit ruisseau coulait\njuste devant notre front, de sorte que nous ne pouvions \u00eatre envelopp\u00e9s,\net qu'on ne pouvait nous attaquer que par devant ou par derri\u00e8re. Encore\nm\u00eemes-nous touts nos soins \u00e0 rendre notre front aussi fort que possible,\nen pla\u00e7ant nos bagages, nos chameaux et nos chevaux, touts en ligne au\nbord du ruisseau: sur notre arri\u00e8re nous abatt\u00eemes quelques arbres.\nDans cet ordre nous nous \u00e9tablissions pour la nuit, mais les Tartares\nfurent sur nos bras avant que nous eussions achev\u00e9 notre campement. Ils\nne se jet\u00e8rent pas sur nous comme des brigands, ainsi que nous nous y\nattendions, mais ils nous envoy\u00e8rent trois messagers pour demander qu'on\nleur livr\u00e2t les hommes qui avaient bafou\u00e9 leurs pr\u00eatres et br\u00fbl\u00e9 leur\nDieu Cham-Chi-Thaungu, afin de les br\u00fbler, et sur ce ils disaient qu'ils\nse retireraient, et ne nous feraient point de mal: autrement qu'ils nous\nferaient touts p\u00e9rir dans les flammes. Nos gens parurent fort troubl\u00e9s \u00e0\nce message, et se mirent \u00e0 se regarder l'un l'autre entre les deux yeux\npour voir si quelqu'un avait le p\u00e9ch\u00e9 \u00e9crit sur la face. Mais, Personne!\nc'\u00e9tait le mot, personne n'avait fait cela. Le commandant de la caravane\nleur fit r\u00e9pondre qu'il \u00e9tait bien s\u00fbr que pas un des n\u00f4tres n'\u00e9tait\ncoupable de cet outrage; que nous \u00e9tions de paisibles marchands\nvoyageant pour nos affaires; que nous n'avions fait de dommage ni \u00e0 eux\nni \u00e0 qui que ce f\u00fbt; qu'ils devaient chercher plus loin ces ennemis, qui\nles avaient injuri\u00e9s, car nous n'\u00e9tions pas ces gens-l\u00e0; et qu'il les\npriait de ne pas nous troubler, sinon que nous saurions nous d\u00e9fendre.\nCette r\u00e9ponse fut loin de les satisfaire, et le matin, \u00e0 la pointe du\njour, une foule immense s'avan\u00e7a vers notre camp; mais en nous voyant\ndans une si avantageuse position, ils n'os\u00e8rent pas pousser plus avant\nque le ruisseau qui barrait notre front, o\u00f9 ils s'arr\u00eat\u00e8rent, et\nd\u00e9ploy\u00e8rent de telles forces, que nous en f\u00fbmes atterr\u00e9s au plus haut\npoint; ceux d'entre nous qui en parlaient le plus modestement, disaient\nqu'ils \u00e9taient dix mille. L\u00e0, ils firent une pause et nous regard\u00e8rent\nun moment; puis, poussant un affreux hourra, ils nous d\u00e9coch\u00e8rent une\nnu\u00e9e de fl\u00e8ches. Mais nous \u00e9tions trop bien \u00e0 couvert, nos bagages nous\nabritaient, et je ne me souviens pas que parmi nous un seul homme f\u00fbt\nbless\u00e9.\nQuelque temps apr\u00e8s, nous les v\u00eemes faire un petit mouvement \u00e0 notre\ndroite, et nous les attendions sur notre arri\u00e8re, quand un rus\u00e9\ncompagnon, un Cosaque de Jarawena, aux gages des Moscovites, appela le\ncommandant de la caravane et lui dit:--\u00abJe vais envoyer toute cette\nengeance \u00e0 Sibeilka.\u00bb--C'\u00e9tait une ville \u00e0 quatre ou cinq journ\u00e9es de\nmarche au moins, vers le Sud, ou plut\u00f4t derri\u00e8re nous. Il prend donc son\narc et ses fl\u00e8ches, saute \u00e0 cheval, s'\u00e9loigne de notre arri\u00e8re au galop,\ncomme s'il retournait \u00e0 Nertzinskoy, puis faisant un grand circuit, il\nrejoint l'arm\u00e9e des Tartares comme s'il \u00e9tait un expr\u00e8s envoy\u00e9 pour leur\nfaire savoir tout particuli\u00e8rement que les gens qui avaient br\u00fbl\u00e9 leur\nCham-Chi-Thaungu \u00e9taient partis pour Sibeilka avec une caravane de\nm\u00e9cr\u00e9ants, c'est-\u00e0-dire de Chr\u00e9tiens, r\u00e9solus qu'ils \u00e9taient de br\u00fbler\nle Dieu Scal-Isarg, appartenant aux Tongouses.\nComme ce dr\u00f4le \u00e9tait un vrai Tartare et qu'il parlait parfaitement leur\nlangage, il feignit si bien, qu'ils gob\u00e8rent tout cela et se mirent en\nroute en toute h\u00e2te pour Sibeilka, qui \u00e9tait, ce me semble, \u00e0 cinq\njourn\u00e9es de marche vers le Sud. En moins de trois heures ils furent\nenti\u00e8rement hors de notre vue, nous n'en entend\u00eemes plus parler, et nous\nn'avons jamais su s'ils all\u00e8rent ou non jusqu'\u00e0 ce lieu nomm\u00e9 Sibeilka.\nNous gagn\u00e2mes ainsi sans danger la ville de Jarawena, o\u00f9 il y avait une\ngarnison de Moscovites, et nous y demeur\u00e2mes cinq jours, la caravane se\ntrouvant extr\u00eamement fatigu\u00e9e de sa derni\u00e8re marche et de son manque de\nrepos durant la nuit.\nAu sortir de cette ville nous e\u00fbmes \u00e0 passer un affreux d\u00e9sert qui nous\ntint vingt-trois jours. Nous nous \u00e9tions munis de quelques tentes pour\nnotre plus grande commodit\u00e9 pendant la nuit, et le commandant de la\ncaravane s'\u00e9tait procur\u00e9 seize chariots ou fourgons du pays pour porter\nnotre eau et nos provisions. Ces chariots, rang\u00e9s chaque nuit tout\nautour de notre camp, nous servaient de retranchement; de sorte que, si\nles Tartare se fussent montr\u00e9s, \u00e0 moins d'\u00eatre en tr\u00e8s-grand nombre, ils\nn'auraient pu nous toucher.\nLES TONGOUSES.\nOn croira facilement que nous e\u00fbmes grand besoin de repos apr\u00e8s ce long\ntrajet; car dans ce d\u00e9sert nous ne v\u00eemes ni maisons ni arbres. Nous y\ntrouv\u00e2mes \u00e0 peine quelques buissons, mais nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes en revanche\nune grande quantit\u00e9 de chasseurs de zibelines; ce sont touts des\nTartares de la Mongolie dont cette contr\u00e9e fait partie. Ils attaquent\nfr\u00e9quemment les petites caravanes, mais nous n'en rencontr\u00e2mes point en\ngrande troupe. J'\u00e9tais curieux de voir les peaux des zibelines qu'ils\nchassaient; mais je ne pus me mettre en rapport avec aucun d'eux, car\nils n'osaient pas s'approcher de nous, et je n'osais pas moi-m\u00eame\nm'\u00e9carter de la compagnie pour les joindre.\nApr\u00e8s avoir travers\u00e9 ce d\u00e9sert, nous entr\u00e2mes dans une contr\u00e9e assez\nbien peupl\u00e9e, c'est-\u00e0-dire o\u00f9 nous trouv\u00e2mes des villes et des ch\u00e2teaux\n\u00e9lev\u00e9s par le Czar de Moscovie, avec des garnisons de soldats\nstationnaires pour prot\u00e9ger les caravanes, et d\u00e9fendre le pays contre\nles Tartares, qui autrement rendraient la route tr\u00e8s-dangereuse. Et sa\nmajest\u00e9 Czarienne a donn\u00e9 des ordres si stricts pour la s\u00fbret\u00e9 des\ncaravanes et des marchands que, si on entend parler de quelques Tartares\ndans le pays, des d\u00e9tachements de la garnison sont de suite envoy\u00e9s pour\nescorter les voyageurs de station en station.\nAussi le gouverneur d'Adinskoy, auquel j'eus occasion de rendre visite,\navec le marchand \u00e9cossais qui \u00e9tait li\u00e9 avec lui, nous offrit-il une\nescorte de cinquante hommes, si nous pensions qu'il y e\u00fbt quelque\ndanger, jusqu'\u00e0 la prochaine station.\nLong-temps je m'\u00e9tais imagin\u00e9 qu'en approchant de l'Europe, nous\ntrouverions le pays mieux peupl\u00e9 et le peuple plus civilis\u00e9; je m'\u00e9tais\ndoublement tromp\u00e9, car nous avions encore \u00e0 traverser la nation des\nTongouses, o\u00f9 nous v\u00eemes des marques de paganisme et de barbarie, pour\nle moins aussi grossi\u00e8res que celles qui nous avaient frapp\u00e9es\npr\u00e9c\u00e9demment; seulement comme ces Tongouses ont \u00e9t\u00e9 assuj\u00e9tis par les\nMoscovites, et enti\u00e8rement r\u00e9duits, ils ne sont pas tr\u00e8s-dangereux; mais\nen fait de rudesse de m\u0153urs, d'idol\u00e2trie et de polyth\u00e9isme jamais peuple\nau monde ne les surpassa. Ils sont couverts de peaux de b\u00eates aussi bien\nque leurs maisons, et, \u00e0 leur mine r\u00e9barbative, \u00e0 leur costume, vous ne\ndistingueriez pas un homme d'avec une femme. Durant l'hiver, quand la\nterre est couverte de neige ils vivent sous terre, dans des esp\u00e8ces de\nrepaires vo\u00fbt\u00e9s dont les cavit\u00e9s ou cavernes se communiquent entre\nelles.\nSi les Tartares avaient leur Cham-Chi-Thaungu pour tout un village ou\ntoute une contr\u00e9e, ceux-ci avaient des idoles dans chaque hutte et dans\nchaque cave. En outre ils adorent les \u00e9toiles, le soleil, l'eau, la\nneige, et en un mot tout ce qu'ils ne comprennent pas, et ils ne\ncomprennent pas grand'chose; de sorte qu'\u00e0 touts les \u00e9l\u00e9ments et \u00e0\npresque touts les objets extraordinaires ils offrent des sacrifices.\nMais je ne dois faire la description d'un peuple ou d'une contr\u00e9e\nqu'autant que cela se rattache \u00e0 ma propre histoire.--Il ne m'arriva\nrien de particulier dans ce pays, que j'estime \u00e9loign\u00e9 de plus de quatre\ncents milles du dernier d\u00e9sert dont j'ai parl\u00e9, et dont la moiti\u00e9 m\u00eame\nest aussi un d\u00e9sert, o\u00f9 nous march\u00e2mes rudement pendant douze jours sans\nrencontrer une maison, un arbre, une broussaille et o\u00f9 nous f\u00fbmes encore\noblig\u00e9s de porter avec nous nos provisions, l'eau comme le pain. Apr\u00e8s\n\u00eatre sortis de ce steppe, nous parv\u00eenmes en deux jours \u00e0 Y\u00e9niss\u00e9isk,\nville ou station moscovite sur le grand fleuve Y\u00e9niss\u00e9i. Ce fleuve, nous\nfut-il dit, s\u00e9pare l'Europe de l'Asie, quoique nos faiseurs de cartes, \u00e0\nce qu'on m'a rapport\u00e9, n'en tombent pas d'accord. N'importe, ce qu'il y\na de certain, c'est qu'il borne \u00e0 l'Orient l'ancienne Sib\u00e9rie, qui\naujourd'hui ne forme qu'une province du vaste Empire Moscovite bien\nqu'elle soit aussi grande que l'Empire Germanique tout entier.\nJe remarquai que l'ignorance et le paganisme pr\u00e9valaient encore, except\u00e9\ndans les garnisons Moscovites: toute la contr\u00e9e entre le fleuve Oby et\nle fleuve Y\u00e9nissei est enti\u00e8rement payenne, et les habitants sont aussi\nbarbares que les Tartares les plus recul\u00e9s, m\u00eame qu'aucune nation que je\nsache de l'Asie ou de l'Am\u00e9rique. Je remarquai aussi, ce que je fis\nobserver aux gouverneurs Moscovites avec lesquels j'eus occasion de\nconverser, que ces payens, pour \u00eatre sous le gouvernement moscovite n'en\n\u00e9taient ni plus sages ni plus pr\u00e8s du christianisme. Mais tout en\nreconnaissant que c'\u00e9tait assez vrai, ils r\u00e9pondaient que ce n'\u00e9tait pas\nleur affaire; que si le Czar s'\u00e9tait promis de convertir ses sujets\nsib\u00e9riens, tongouses ou tartares, il aurait envoy\u00e9 parmi eux des pr\u00eatres\net non pas des soldats, et ils ajoutaient avec plus de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 que je\nne m'y serais attendu que le grand souci de leur monarque n'\u00e9tait pas de\nfaire de ces peuples des Chr\u00e9tiens, mais des sujets.\nDepuis ce fleuve jusqu'au fleuve Oby, nous travers\u00e2mes une contr\u00e9e\nsauvage et inculte; je ne saurais dire que ce soit un sol st\u00e9rile, c'est\nseulement un sol qui manque de bras et d'une bonne exploitation, car\nautrement c'est un pays charmant, tr\u00e8s-fertile et tr\u00e8s-agr\u00e9able en soi.\nLes quelques habitants que nous y trouv\u00e2mes \u00e9taient touts payens,\nexcept\u00e9 ceux qu'on y avait envoy\u00e9s de Russie; car c'est dans cette\ncontr\u00e9e, j'entends sur les rives de l'Oby, que sont bannis les criminels\nmoscovites qui ne sont point condamn\u00e9s \u00e0 mort: une fois l\u00e0, il est\npresque impossible qu'ils en sortent.\nJe n'ai rien d'essentiel \u00e0 dire sur mon compte jusqu'\u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e \u00e0\nTobolsk, capitale de la Sib\u00e9rie, o\u00f9 je s\u00e9journai assez long-temps pour\nles raisons suivantes.\nIl y avait alors pr\u00e8s de sept mois que nous \u00e9tions en route et l'hiver\napprochait rapidement: dans cette conjoncture, sur nos affaires priv\u00e9es,\nmon partner et moi, nous t\u00eenmes donc un conseil, o\u00f9 nous juge\u00e2mes \u00e0\npropos, attendu que nous devions nous rendre en Angleterre et non pas \u00e0\nMoscou, de consid\u00e9rer le parti qu'il nous fallait prendre. On nous avait\nparl\u00e9 de tra\u00eeneaux et de rennes pour nous transporter sur la neige\npendant l'hiver; et c'est tout de bon que les Russiens font usage de\npareils v\u00e9hicules, dont les d\u00e9tails sembleraient incroyables si je les\nrapportais, et au moyen desquels ils voyagent beaucoup plus dans la\nsaison froide qu'ils ne sauraient voyager en \u00e9t\u00e9, parce que dans ces\ntra\u00eeneaux ils peuvent courir nuit et jour: une neige congel\u00e9e couvrant\nalors toute la nature, les montagnes, les vall\u00e9es, les rivi\u00e8res, les\nlacs n'offrent plus qu'une surface unie et dure comme la pierre, sur\nlaquelle ils courent sans se mettre nullement en peine de ce qui est\ndessous.\nMais je n'eus pas occasion de faire un voyage de ce genre.--Comme je me\nrendais en Angleterre et non pas \u00e0 Moscou, j'avais deux routes \u00e0\nprendre: il me fallait aller avec la caravane jusqu'\u00e0 Jaroslav, puis\ntourner vers l'Ouest, pour gagner Narva et le golfe de Finlande, et,\nsoit par mer soit par terre, Dantzick, o\u00f9 ma cargaison de marchandises\nchinoises devait se vendre avantageusement; ou bien il me fallait\nlaisser la caravane \u00e0 une petite ville sur la Dvina, d'o\u00f9 par eau je\npouvais gagner en six jours Archangel, et de l\u00e0 faire voile pour\nl'Angleterre, la Hollande ou Hambourg.\nToutefois il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 absurde d'entreprendre l'un ou l'autre de ces\nvoyages pendant l'hiver: si je me fusse d\u00e9cid\u00e9 pour Dantzick, la\nBaltique en cette saison est gel\u00e9e, tout passage m'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 ferm\u00e9, et par\nterre il est bien moins s\u00fbr de voyager dans ces contr\u00e9es que parmi les\nTartares-Mongols. D'un autre c\u00f4t\u00e9, si je me fusse rendu \u00e0 Archangel en\noctobre, j'eusse trouv\u00e9 touts les navires partis, et m\u00eame les marchands\nqui ne s'y tiennent que l'\u00e9t\u00e9, et l'hiver se retirent \u00e0 Moscou, vers le\nSud, apr\u00e8s le d\u00e9part des vaisseaux. Un froid excessif, la disette, et la\nn\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de rester tout l'hiver dans une ville d\u00e9serte, c'est l\u00e0 tout\nce que j'eusse pu esp\u00e9rer d'y rencontrer. En d\u00e9finitive, je pensai donc\nque le mieux \u00e9tait de laisser partir la caravane, et de faire mes\ndispositions pour hiverner \u00e0 l'endroit o\u00f9 je me trouvais, c'est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0\nTobolsk en Sib\u00e9rie, par une latitude de 60 degr\u00e9s; l\u00e0, au moins, pour\npasser un hiver rigoureux, je pouvais faire fond sur trois choses,\nsavoir: l'abondance de toutes les provisions que fournit le pays, une\nmaison chaude avec des combustibles \u00e0 suffisance, et une excellente\ncompagnie. De tout ceci, je parlerai plus au long en son lieu.\nJ'\u00e9tais alors dans un climat enti\u00e8rement diff\u00e9rent de mon \u00eele\nbien-aim\u00e9e, o\u00f9 je n'eus jamais froid que dans mes acc\u00e8s de fi\u00e8vre, o\u00f9\ntout au contraire j'avais peine \u00e0 endurer des habits sur mon dos, o\u00f9 je\nne faisais jamais de feu que dehors, et pour pr\u00e9parer ma nourriture:\naussi \u00e9tais-je emmitoufl\u00e9 dans trois bonnes vestes avec de grandes robes\npar-dessus, descendant jusqu'aux pieds et se boutonnant au poignet,\ntoutes doubl\u00e9es de fourrures, pour les rendre suffisamment chaudes.\nJ'avoue que je d\u00e9sapprouve fort notre mani\u00e8re de chauffer les maisons en\nAngleterre, c'est-\u00e0-dire de faire du feu dans chaque chambre, dans des\nchemin\u00e9es ouvertes, qui, d\u00e8s que le feu est \u00e9teint, laissent l'air\nint\u00e9rieur aussi froid que la temp\u00e9rature. Apr\u00e8s avoir pris un\nappartement dans une bonne maison de la ville, au centre de six chambres\ndiff\u00e9rentes je fis construire une chemin\u00e9e en forme de fourneau,\nsemblable \u00e0 un po\u00eale; le tuyau pour le passage de la fum\u00e9e \u00e9tait d'un\nc\u00f4t\u00e9, la porte ouvrant sur le foyer d'un autre; toutes les chambres\n\u00e9taient \u00e9galement chauff\u00e9es, sans qu'on v\u00eet aucun feu, juste comme sont\nchauff\u00e9s les bains en Angleterre.\nPar ce moyen nous avions toujours la m\u00eame temp\u00e9rature dans tout le\nlogement, et une chaleur \u00e9gale se conservait. Quelque froid qu'il f\u00eet\ndehors, il faisait toujours chaud dedans; cependant on ne voyait point\nde feu, et l'on n'\u00e9tait jamais incommod\u00e9 par la fum\u00e9e.\nMais la chose la plus merveilleuse c'\u00e9tait qu'il f\u00fbt possible de trouver\nbonne compagnie, dans une contr\u00e9e aussi barbare que les parties les plus\nseptentrionales de l'Europe, dans une contr\u00e9e proche de la mer Glaciale,\net \u00e0 peu de degr\u00e9s de la Nouvelle-Zemble.\nCependant, comme c'est dans ce pays, ainsi que je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 fait\nremarquer, que sont bannis les criminels d'\u00c9tat moscovites, la ville\n\u00e9tait pleine de gens de qualit\u00e9, de princes, de gentilshommes, de\ncolonels, en un mot, de nobles de tout rang, de soldats de tout grade,\net de courtisans. Il y avait le fameux prince Galilfken ou Galoffken,\nson fils le fameux g\u00e9n\u00e9ral Robostisky, plusieurs autres personnages de\nmarque, et quelques dames de haut parage.\nPar l'interm\u00e9diaire de mon n\u00e9gociant \u00e9cossais, qui toutefois ici se\ns\u00e9para de moi, je fis connaissance avec plusieurs de ces gentilshommes,\navec quelques-uns m\u00eame du premier ordre, et de qui, dans les longues\nsoir\u00e9es d'hiver pendant lesquelles je restais au logis, je re\u00e7us\nd'agr\u00e9ables visites. Ce fut causant un soir avec un certain prince\nbanni, un des ex-ministres d'\u00c9tat du Czar, que la conversation tomba sur\nmon chapitre. Comme il me racontait une foule de belles choses sur la\ngrandeur, la magnificence, les possessions, et le pouvoir absolu de\nl'Empereur des Russiens, je l'interrompis et lui dis que j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 un\nprince plus grand et plus puissant que le Czar de Moscovie, quoique mes\n\u00c9tats ne fussent pas si \u00e9tendus, ni mes peuples si nombreux. \u00c0 ce coup,\nle seigneur russien eut l'air un peu surpris, et, tenant ses yeux\nattach\u00e9s sur moi, il commen\u00e7a de s'\u00e9tonner de ce que j'avan\u00e7ais.\nJe lui dis que son \u00e9tonnement cesserait quand je me serais expliqu\u00e9.\nD'abord je lui contai que j'avais \u00e0 mon enti\u00e8re disposition la vie et la\nfortune de mes sujets; que nonobstant mon pouvoir absolu, je n'avais pas\neu un seul individu m\u00e9content de mon gouvernement ou de ma personne dans\ntoutes mes possessions. L\u00e0-dessus il secoua la t\u00eate, et me dit qu'en\ncela je surpassais tout de bon le Czar de Moscovie. Me reprenant,\nj'ajoutai que toutes les terres de mon royaume m'appartenaient en\npropre; que touts mes sujets \u00e9taient non-seulement mes tenanciers, mais\nmes tenanciers \u00e0 volont\u00e9; qu'ils se seraient touts battus pour moi\njusqu'\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re goutte de leur sang, et que jamais tyran, car pour\ntel je me reconnaissais, n'avait \u00e9t\u00e9 si universellement aim\u00e9, et\ncependant si horriblement redout\u00e9 de ses sujets.\nLE PRINCE MOSCOVITE. Apr\u00e8s avoir amus\u00e9 quelque temps la compagnie de ces\n\u00e9nigmes gouvernementales, je lui en dis le mot, je lui fis au long\nl'histoire de ma vie dans l'\u00eele, et de la mani\u00e8re dont je m'y gouvernais\net gouvernais le peuple rang\u00e9 sous moi, juste comme je l'ai r\u00e9dig\u00e9\ndepuis. On fut excessivement touch\u00e9 de cette histoire, et surtout le\nprince, qui me dit avec un soupir, que la v\u00e9ritable grandeur ici-bas\n\u00e9tait d'\u00eatre son propre ma\u00eetre; qu'il n'aurait pas \u00e9chang\u00e9 une condition\ntelle que la mienne, contre celle du Czar de Moscovie; qu'il trouvait\nplus de f\u00e9licit\u00e9 dans la retraite \u00e0 laquelle il semblait condamn\u00e9 en cet\nexil qu'il n'en avait jamais trouv\u00e9 dans la plus haute autorit\u00e9 dont il\navait joui \u00e0 la Cour de son ma\u00eetre le Czar; que le comble de la sagesse\nhumaine \u00e9tait de ployer notre humeur aux circonstances, et de nous faire\nun calme int\u00e9rieur sous le poids des plus grandes temp\u00eates.--\u00abIci,\npoursuivit-il au commencement de mon bannissement, je pleurais, je\nm'arrachais les cheveux, je d\u00e9chirais mes habits, comme tant d'autres\navaient fait avant moi, mais amen\u00e9 apr\u00e8s un peu de temps et de r\u00e9flexion\n\u00e0 regarder au-dedans de moi, et \u00e0 jeter les yeux autour de moi sur les\nchoses ext\u00e9rieures, je trouvai que, s'il est une fois conduit \u00e0\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chir sur la vie, sur le peu d'influence qu'a le monde sur le\nv\u00e9ritable bonheur, l'esprit de l'homme est parfaitement capable de se\ncr\u00e9er une f\u00e9licit\u00e9 \u00e0 lui, le satisfaisant pleinement et s'alliant \u00e0 ses\nmeilleurs desseins et \u00e0 ses plus nobles d\u00e9sirs, sans grand besoin de\nl'assistance du monde. De l'air pour respirer, de la nourriture pour\nsoutenir la vie, des v\u00eatements pour avoir chaud, la libert\u00e9 de prendre\nl'exercice n\u00e9cessaire \u00e0 la sant\u00e9, compl\u00e8tent dans mon opinion tout ce\nque le monde peut faire pour nous. La grandeur, la puissance, les\nrichesses et les plaisirs dont quelques-uns jouissent ici-bas, et dont\npour ma part j'ai joui, sont pleins d'attraits pour nous, mais toutes\nces choses l\u00e2chent la bride \u00e0 nos plus mauvaises passions, \u00e0 notre\nambition, \u00e0 notre orgueil, \u00e0 notre avarice, \u00e0 notre vanit\u00e9, \u00e0 notre\nsensualit\u00e9, passions qui proc\u00e8dent de ce qu'il y a de pire dans la\nnature de l'homme, qui sont des crimes en elles-m\u00eames, qui renferment la\nsemence de toute esp\u00e8ce de crimes, et n'ont aucun rapport, et ne se\nrattachent en rien ni aux vertus qui constituent l'homme sage, ni aux\ngr\u00e2ces qui nous distinguent comme Chr\u00e9tiens. Priv\u00e9 que je suis\naujourd'hui de toute cette f\u00e9licit\u00e9 imaginaire que je go\u00fbtais dans la\npratique de touts ces vices, je me trouve \u00e0 m\u00eame de porter mes regards\nsur leur c\u00f4t\u00e9 sombre, o\u00f9 je n'entrevois que difformit\u00e9s. Je suis\nmaintenant convaincu que la vertu seule fait l'homme vraiment sage,\nriche, grand, et le retient dans la voie qui conduit \u00e0 un bonheur\nsupr\u00eame, dans une vie future; et en cela, ne suis-je pas plus heureux\ndans mon exil que ne le sont mes ennemis en pleine possession des biens\net du pouvoir que je leur ai abandonn\u00e9s?\u00bb\n\u00abSir, ajouta-t-il, je n'am\u00e8ne point mon esprit \u00e0 cela par politique, me\nsoumettant \u00e0 la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de ma condition, que quelques-uns appellent\nmis\u00e9rable. Non, si je ne m'abuse pas trop sur moi-m\u00eame, je ne voudrais\npas m'en retourner; non, quand bien m\u00eame le Czar mon ma\u00eetre me\nrappellerait et m'offrirait de me r\u00e9tablir dans toute ma grandeur\npass\u00e9e; non, dis-je, je ne voudrais pas m'en retourner, pas plus que mon\n\u00e2me, je pense, quand elle sera d\u00e9livr\u00e9e de sa prison corporelle, et aura\ngo\u00fbt\u00e9 la f\u00e9licit\u00e9 glorieuse qu'elle doit trouver au-del\u00e0 de la vie, ne\nvoudra retourner \u00e0 la ge\u00f4le de chair et de sang qui l'enferme\naujourd'hui, et abandonner les Cieux pour se replonger dans la fange et\nl'ordure des affaires humaines.\u00bb\nIl pronon\u00e7a ces paroles avec tant de chaleur et d'effusion, tant\nd'\u00e9motion se trahissait dans son maintien qu'il \u00e9tait visible que\nc'\u00e9taient l\u00e0 les vrais sentiments de son \u00e2me. Impossible demeure en\ndoute sa sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9.\nJe lui r\u00e9pondis qu'autrefois dans mon ancienne condition dont je venais\nde lui faire la peinture, je m'\u00e9tais cru une esp\u00e8ce de monarque, mais\nque je pensais qu'il \u00e9tait, lui, non-seulement un monarque mais un grand\nconqu\u00e9rant; car celui qui remporte la victoire sur ses d\u00e9sirs excessifs,\nqui a un empire absolu sur lui-m\u00eame, et dont la raison gouverne\nenti\u00e8rement la volont\u00e9 est certainement plus grand que celui qui\nconquiert une ville.--\u00abMais, Mylord, ajoutai-je, oserais-je vous faire\nune question?--\u00abDe tout mon c\u0153ur, r\u00e9pondit-il.\u00bb--\u00abSi la porte de votre\nlibert\u00e9 \u00e9tait ouverte, repris-je, ne saisiriez-vous pas cette occasion\nde vous d\u00e9livrer de cet exil?\u00bb\n--\u00abAttendez, dit-il, votre question est subtile, elle demande de\ns\u00e9rieuses et d'exactes distinctions pour y donner une r\u00e9ponse sinc\u00e8re,\net je veux vous mettre mon c\u0153ur \u00e0 jour. Rien au monde que je sache ne\npourrait me porter \u00e0 me d\u00e9livrer de cet \u00e9tat de bannissement, sinon ces\ndeux choses: premi\u00e8rement ma famille, et secondement un climat un peu\nplus doux. Mais je vous proteste que pour retourner aux pompes de la\nCour, \u00e0 la gloire, au pouvoir, au tracas d'un ministre d'\u00c9tat, \u00e0\nl'opulence, au faste et aux plaisirs, c'est-\u00e0-dire aux folies d'un\ncourtisan, si mon ma\u00eetre m'envoyait aujourd'hui la nouvelle qu'il me\nrend tout ce dont il m'a d\u00e9pouill\u00e9, je vous proteste, dis-je, si je me\nconnais bien, que je ne voudrais pas abandonner ce d\u00e9sert, ces solitudes\net ces lacs glac\u00e9s pour le palais de Moscou.\u00bb\n--\u00abMais, Mylord, repris-je, peut-\u00eatre n'\u00eates-vous pas seulement banni\ndes plaisirs de la Cour, du pouvoir, de l'autorit\u00e9 et de l'opulence dont\nvous jouissiez autrefois, vous pouvez \u00eatre aussi priv\u00e9 de quelques-unes\ndes commodit\u00e9s de la vie; vos terres sont peut-\u00eatre confisqu\u00e9es, vos\nbiens pill\u00e9s, et ce qui vous est laiss\u00e9 ici ne suffit peut-\u00eatre pas aux\nbesoins ordinaires de la vie.\u00bb\n--\u00abOui, me r\u00e9pliqua-t-il, si vous me consid\u00e9rez comme un seigneur ou un\nprince, comme dans le fait je le suis; mais veuillez ne voir en moi\nsimplement qu'un homme, une cr\u00e9ature humaine, que rien ne distingue\nd'avec la foule, et il vous sera \u00e9vident que je ne puis sentir aucun\nbesoin, \u00e0 moins que je ne sois visit\u00e9 par quelque maladie ou quelque\ninfirmit\u00e9. Pour mettre toutefois la question hors de doute, voyez notre\nmani\u00e8re de vivre: nous sommes en cette ville cinq grands personnages;\nnous vivons tout-\u00e0-fait retir\u00e9s, comme il convient \u00e0 des gens en exil.\nNous avons sauv\u00e9 quelque chose du naufrage de notre fortune, qui nous\nmet au-dessus de la n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 de chasser pour notre subsistance; mais\nles pauvres soldats qui sont ici, et qui n'ont point nos ressources\nvivent dans une aussi grande abondance que nous. Ils vont dans les bois\nchasser les zibelines et les renards: le travail d'un mois fournit \u00e0\nleur entretien pendant un an. Comme notre genre de vie n'est pas\nco\u00fbteux, il nous est ais\u00e9 de nous procurer ce qu'il nous faut: donc\nvotre objection est d\u00e9truite.\u00bb\nLa place me manque pour rapporter tout au long la conversation on ne\npeut plus agr\u00e9able que j'eus avec cet homme v\u00e9ritablement grand, et dans\nlaquelle son esprit laissa para\u00eetre une si haute connaissance des\nchoses, soutenue tout \u00e0 la fois et par la religion et par une profonde\nsagesse, qu'il est hors de doute que son m\u00e9pris pour le monde ne f\u00fbt\naussi grand qu'il l'exprimait. Et jusqu'\u00e0 la fin il se montra toujours\nle m\u00eame comme on le verra par ce qui suit.\nJe passai huit mois \u00e0 Tobolsk. Que l'hiver me parut sombre et terrible!\nLe froid \u00e9tait si intense que je ne pouvais pas seulement regarder\ndehors sans \u00eatre envelopp\u00e9 dans des pelleteries, et sans avoir sur le\nvisage un masque de fourrure ou plut\u00f4t un capuchon, avec un trou\nsimplement pour la bouche et deux trous pour les yeux. Le faible jour\nque nous e\u00fbmes pendant trois mois ne durait pas, calcul fait, au-del\u00e0 de\ncinq heures, six tout au plus; seulement le sol \u00e9tant continuellement\ncouvert de neige et le temps assez clair, l'obscurit\u00e9 n'\u00e9tait jamais\nprofonde. Nos chevaux \u00e9taient gard\u00e9s ou plut\u00f4t affam\u00e9s sous terre, et\nquant \u00e0 nos valets, car nous en avions lou\u00e9 pour prendre soin de nous et\nde nos montures, il nous fallait \u00e0 chaque instant panser et faire\nd\u00e9geler leurs doigts ou leurs orteils, de peur qu'ils ne restassent\nperclus.\nDans l'int\u00e9rieur \u00e0 vrai dire nous avions chaud, les maisons \u00e9tant\ncloses, les murailles \u00e9paisses, les ouvertures petites et les vitrages\ndoubles. Notre nourriture consistait principalement en chair de daim\nsal\u00e9e et appr\u00eat\u00e9e dans la saison, en assez bon pain, mais pr\u00e9par\u00e9 comme\ndu biscuit, en poisson sec de toute sorte, en viande de mouton, et en\nviande de buffle, assez bonne esp\u00e8ce de b\u0153uf. Toutes les provisions pour\nl'hiver sont amass\u00e9es pendant l'\u00e9t\u00e9, et parfaitement conserv\u00e9es. Nous\navions pour boisson de l'eau m\u00eal\u00e9e avec de l'_aqua-vit\u00e6_ au lieu de\nbrandevin, et pour r\u00e9gal, en place de vin, de l'hydromel: ils en ont\nvraiment de d\u00e9licieux. Les chasseurs, qui s'aventurent dehors par touts\nles temps, nous apportaient fr\u00e9quemment de la venaison fra\u00eeche,\ntr\u00e8s-grasse et tr\u00e8s-bonne, et quelquefois de la chair d'ours mais nous\nne faisions pas grand cas de cette derni\u00e8re. Gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 la bonne provision\nde th\u00e9 que nous avions, nous pouvions r\u00e9galer nos amis, et apr\u00e8s tout,\ntoutes choses bien consid\u00e9r\u00e9es, nous vivions tr\u00e8s-ga\u00eement et tr\u00e8s-bien.\nNous \u00e9tions alors au mois de mars, les jours croissaient sensiblement et\nla temp\u00e9rature devenait au moins supportable; aussi les autres voyageurs\ncommen\u00e7aient-ils \u00e0 pr\u00e9parer les tra\u00eeneaux qui devaient les transporter\nsur la neige, et \u00e0 tout disposer pour leur d\u00e9part; mais notre dessein de\ngagner Archangel, et non Moscou ou la Baltique, \u00e9tant bien arr\u00eat\u00e9, je ne\nbougeai pas. Je savais que les navires du Sud ne se mettent en route\npour cette partie du monde qu'au mois de mai ou de juin, et que si j'y\narrivais au commencement d'ao\u00fbt, j'y serais avant qu'aucun b\u00e2timent f\u00fbt\npr\u00eat \u00e0 remettre en mer. Je ne m'empressai donc nullement de partir comme\nles autres, et je vis une multitude de gens, je dirai m\u00eame touts les\nvoyageurs, quitter la ville avant moi. Il para\u00eet que touts les ans ils\nse rendent \u00e0 Moscou pour trafiquer, c'est-\u00e0-dire pour y porter leurs\npelleteries et les \u00e9changer contre les articles de n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 dont ils\nont besoin pour leurs magasins. D'autres aussi vont pour le m\u00eame objet \u00e0\nArchangel. Mais comme ils ont plus de huit cents milles \u00e0 faire pour\nrevenir chez eux, ceux qui s'y rendirent cette ann\u00e9e-l\u00e0 partirent de\nm\u00eame avant moi.\nBref, dans la seconde quinzaine de mai je commen\u00e7ai \u00e0 m'occuper de mes\nmalles, et tandis que j'\u00e9tais \u00e0 cette besogne, il me vint dans l'esprit\nde me demander pourquoi touts ces gens bannis en Sib\u00e9rie par le Czar,\nmais une fois arriv\u00e9s l\u00e0 laiss\u00e9s libres d'aller o\u00f9 bon leur semble, ne\ngagnaient pas quelque autre endroit du monde \u00e0 leur gr\u00e9. Et je me pris \u00e0\nexaminer ce qui pouvait les d\u00e9tourner de cette tentative.\nMais mon \u00e9tonnement cessa quand j'en eus touch\u00e9 quelques mots \u00e0 la\npersonne dont j'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 parl\u00e9, et qui me r\u00e9pondit ainsi:--\u00abConsid\u00e9rez\nd'abord, sir, me dit-il, le lieu o\u00f9 nous sommes, secondement la\ncondition dans laquelle nous sommes, et surtout la majeure partie des\ngens qui sont bannis ici. Nous sommes environn\u00e9s d'obstacles plus forts\nque des barreaux et des verrous: au Nord s'\u00e9tend un oc\u00e9an innavigable o\u00f9\njamais navire n'a fait voile, o\u00f9 jamais barque n'a vogu\u00e9, et\neussions-nous navire et barque \u00e0 notre service que nous ne saurions o\u00f9\naller. De tout autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 nous avons plus de mille milles \u00e0 faire pour\nsortir des \u00c9tats du Czar, et par des chemins impraticables, \u00e0 moins de\nprendre les routes que le gouvernement a fait construire et qui\ntraversent les villes o\u00f9 ses troupes tiennent garnison. Nous ne pouvons\nni suivre ces routes sans \u00eatre d\u00e9couverts, ni trouver de quoi subsister\nen nous aventurant par tout autre chemin; ce serait donc en vain que\nnous tenterions de nous enfuir.\u00bb\nLE FILS DU PRINCE MOSCOVITE.\nL\u00e0-dessus je fus r\u00e9duit au silence, et je compris, qu'ils \u00e9taient dans\nune prison tout aussi s\u00fbre que s'ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 renferm\u00e9s dans le\nch\u00e2teau de Moscou. Cependant il me vint la pens\u00e9e que je pourrais fort\nbien devenir l'instrument de la d\u00e9livrance de cet excellent homme, et\nqu'il me serait tr\u00e8s-ais\u00e9 de l'emmener, puisque dans le pays on\nn'exer\u00e7ait point sur lui de surveillance. Apr\u00e8s avoir roul\u00e9 cette id\u00e9e\ndans ma t\u00eate quelques instants, je lui dis que, comme je n'allais pas \u00e0\nMoscou mais \u00e0 Archangel, et que je voyageais \u00e0 la mani\u00e8re des caravanes,\nce qui me permettait de ne pas coucher dans les stations militaires du\nd\u00e9sert, et de camper chaque nuit o\u00f9 je voulais, nous pourrions\nfacilement gagner sans malencontre cette ville o\u00f9 je le mettrais\nimm\u00e9diatement en s\u00fbret\u00e9 \u00e0 bord d'un vaisseau anglais ou hollandais qui\nnous transporterait touts deux \u00e0 bon port.--\u00abQuant \u00e0 votre subsistance\net aux autres d\u00e9tails, ajoutai-je, je m'en chargerai jusqu'\u00e0 ce que vous\npuissiez faire mieux vous-m\u00eame.\u00bb\nIl m'\u00e9couta tr\u00e8s-attentivement et me regarda fixement tout le temps que\nje parlai; je pus m\u00eame voir sur son visage que mes paroles jetaient son\nesprit dans une grande \u00e9motion. Sa couleur changeait \u00e0 tout moment, ses\nyeux s'enflammaient, toute sa contenance trahissait l'agitation de son\nc\u0153ur. Il ne put me r\u00e9pliquer imm\u00e9diatement quand j'eus fini. On e\u00fbt dit\nqu'il attendait ce qu'il devait r\u00e9pondre. Enfin, apr\u00e8s un moment de\nsilence, il m'embrassa en s'\u00e9criant:--\u00abMalheureux que nous sommes,\ninfortun\u00e9es cr\u00e9atures, il faut donc que m\u00eame les plus grands actes de\nl'amiti\u00e9 soient pour nous des occasions de chute, il faut donc que nous\nsoyons les tentateurs l'un de l'autre! Mon cher ami, continua-t-il,\nvotre offre est si honn\u00eate, si d\u00e9sint\u00e9ress\u00e9e, si bienveillante pour moi,\nqu'il faudrait que j'eusse une bien faible connaissance du monde si,\ntout \u00e0 la fois, je ne m'en \u00e9tonnais pas et ne reconnaissais pas\nl'obligation que je vous en ai. Mais croyez-vous que j'aie \u00e9t\u00e9 sinc\u00e8re\ndans ce que je vous ai si souvent dit de mon m\u00e9pris pour le monde?\nCroyez-vous que je vous aie parl\u00e9 du fond de l'\u00e2me, et qu'en cet exil je\nsois r\u00e9ellement parvenu \u00e0 ce degr\u00e9 de f\u00e9licit\u00e9 qui m'a plac\u00e9 au-dessus\ndu tout ce que le monde pouvait me donner et pouvait faire pour moi?\nCroyez-vous que j'\u00e9tais franc quand je vous ai dit que je ne voudrais\npas m'en retourner, fuss\u00e9-je rappel\u00e9 pour redevenir tout ce que j'\u00e9tais\nautrefois \u00e0 la Cour, et pour rentrer dans la faveur du Czar mon ma\u00eetre?\nCroyez-vous, mon ami, que je sois un honn\u00eate homme, ou pensez-vous que\nje sois un orgueilleux hypocrite?\u00bb--Ici il s'arr\u00eata comme pour \u00e9couter\nce que je r\u00e9pondrais; mais je reconnus bient\u00f4t que c'\u00e9tait l'effet de la\nvive \u00e9motion de ses esprits: son c\u0153ur \u00e9tait plein, il ne pouvait\npoursuivre. Je fus, je l'avoue, aussi frapp\u00e9 de ces sentiments qu'\u00e9tonn\u00e9\nde trouver un tel homme, et j'essayai de quelques arguments pour le\npousser \u00e0 recouvrer sa libert\u00e9. Je lui repr\u00e9sentai qu'il devait\nconsid\u00e9rer ceci comme une porte que lui ouvrait le Ciel pour sa\nd\u00e9livrance, comme une sommation que lui faisait la Providence, qui dans\nsa sollicitude dispose touts les \u00e9v\u00e8nements, pour qu'il e\u00fbt \u00e0 am\u00e9liorer\nson \u00e9tat et \u00e0 se rendre utile dans le monde.\nAyant eu le temps de se remettre,--\u00abQue savez-vous, Sir, me dit-il\nvivement, si au lieu d'une injonction de la part du Ciel, ce n'est pas\nune instigation de toute autre part me repr\u00e9sentant sous des couleurs\nattrayantes, comme une grande f\u00e9licit\u00e9, une d\u00e9livrance qui peut \u00eatre en\nelle-m\u00eame un pi\u00e9ge pour m'entra\u00eener \u00e0 ma ruine? Ici je ne suis point en\nproie \u00e0 la tentation de retourner \u00e0 mon ancienne mis\u00e9rable grandeur\nailleurs je ne suis pas s\u00fbr que toutes les semences d'orgueil,\nd'ambition, d'avarice et de luxure que je sais au fond de mon c\u0153ur ne\npuissent se raviver, prendre racine, en un mot m'accabler derechef, et\nalors l'heureux prisonnier que vous voyez maintenant ma\u00eetre de la\nlibert\u00e9 de son \u00e2me deviendrait, en pleine possession de toute libert\u00e9\npersonnelle, le mis\u00e9rable esclave de ses sens. G\u00e9n\u00e9reux ami, laissez-moi\ndans cette heureuse captivit\u00e9, \u00e9loign\u00e9 de toute occasion de chute,\nplut\u00f4t que de m'exciter \u00e0 pourchasser une ombre de libert\u00e9 aux d\u00e9pens de\nla libert\u00e9 de ma raison et aux d\u00e9pens du bonheur futur que j'ai\naujourd'hui en perspective, et qu'alors, j'en ai peur, je perdrais\ntotalement de vue, car je suis de chair, car je suis un homme, rien\nqu'un homme, car je ne suis pas plus qu'un autre \u00e0 l'abri des passions.\nOh! ne soyez pas \u00e0 la fois mon ami et mon tentateur.\u00bb\nSi j'avais \u00e9t\u00e9 surpris d'abord, je devins alors tout-\u00e0-fait muet, et je\nrestai l\u00e0 \u00e0 le contempler dans le silence et l'admiration. Le combat que\nsoutenait son \u00e2me \u00e9tait si grand que, malgr\u00e9 le froid excessif, il \u00e9tait\ntout en sueur. Je vis que son esprit avait besoin de retrouver du calme;\naussi je lui dis en deux mots que je le laissais r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir, que je\nreviendrais le voir; et je regagnai mon logis.\nEnviron deux heures apr\u00e8s, j'entendis quelqu'un \u00e0 la porte de la\nchambre, et je me levais pour aller ouvrir quand il l'ouvrit lui-m\u00eame et\nentra.--\u00abMon cher ami, me dit-il, vous m'aviez presque vaincu, mais je\nsuis revenu \u00e0 moi. Ne trouvez pas mauvais que je me d\u00e9fende de votre\noffre. Je vous assure que ce n'est pas que je ne sois p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de votre\nbont\u00e9; je viens pour vous exprimer la plus sinc\u00e8re reconnaissance; mais\nj'esp\u00e8re avoir remport\u00e9 une victoire sur moi-m\u00eame.\u00bb\n--\u00abMylord, lui r\u00e9pondis-je, j'aime \u00e0 croire que vous \u00eates pleinement\nassur\u00e9 que vous ne r\u00e9sistez pas \u00e0 la voix du Ciel.--\u00abSir, reprit-il, si\nc'e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 de la part du Ciel, la m\u00eame influence c\u00e9leste m'e\u00fbt pouss\u00e9 \u00e0\nl'accepter, mais j'esp\u00e8re, mais je demeure bien convaincu que c'est de\npar le Ciel que je m'en excuse, et quand nous nous s\u00e9parerons ce ne sera\npas une petite satisfaction pour moi de penser que vous m'aurez laiss\u00e9\nhonn\u00eate homme, sinon homme libre.\u00bb\nJe ne pouvais plus qu'acquiescer et lui protester que dans tout cela mon\nunique but avait \u00e9t\u00e9 de le servir. Il m'embrassa tr\u00e8s-affectueusement en\nm'assurant qu'il en \u00e9tait convaincu et qu'il en serait toujours\nreconnaissant; puis il m'offrit un tr\u00e8s-beau pr\u00e9sent de zibelines, trop\nmagnifique vraiment pour que je pusse l'accepter d'un homme dans sa\nposition, et que j'aurais refus\u00e9 s'il ne s'y f\u00fbt oppos\u00e9.\nLe lendemain matin j'envoyai \u00e0 sa seigneurie mon serviteur avec un petit\npr\u00e9sent de th\u00e9, deux pi\u00e8ces de damas chinois, et quatre petits lingots\nd'or japonais, qui touts ensemble ne pesaient pas plus de six onces ou\nenviron; mais ce cadeau n'approchait pas de la valeur des zibelines,\ndont je trouvai vraiment, \u00e0 mon arriv\u00e9e en Angleterre, pr\u00e8s de 200\nlivres sterling. Il accepta le th\u00e9, une des pi\u00e8ces de damas et une des\npi\u00e8ces d'or au coin japonais, portant une belle empreinte, qu'il garda,\nje pense, pour sa raret\u00e9; mais il ne voulut rien prendre de plus, et me\nfit savoir par mon serviteur qu'il d\u00e9sirait me parler.\nQuand je me fus rendu aupr\u00e8s de lui, il me dit que je savais ce qui\ns'\u00e9tait pass\u00e9 entre nous, et qu'il esp\u00e9rait que je ne chercherais plus \u00e0\nl'\u00e9mouvoir; mais puisque je lui avais fait une si g\u00e9n\u00e9reuse offre, qu'il\nme demandait si j'aurais assez de bont\u00e9 pour la transporter \u00e0 une autre\npersonne qu'il me nommerait, et \u00e0 laquelle il s'int\u00e9ressait beaucoup. Je\nlui r\u00e9pondis que je ne pouvais dire que je fusse port\u00e9 \u00e0 faire autant\npour un autre que pour lui pour qui j'avais con\u00e7u une estime toute\nparticuli\u00e8re, et que j'aurais \u00e9t\u00e9 ravi de d\u00e9livrer; cependant, s'il lui\nplaisait de me nommer la personne que je lui rendrais r\u00e9ponse, et que\nj'esp\u00e9rais qu'il ne m'en voudrait pas si elle ne lui \u00e9tait point\nagr\u00e9able. Sur ce il me dit qu'il s'agissait de son fils unique, qui,\nbien que je ne l'eusse pas vu, se trouvait dans la m\u00eame situation que\nlui, environ \u00e0 deux cents milles plus loin, de l'autre c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'Oby, et\nque si j'accueillais sa demande, il l'enverrait chercher.\nJe lui r\u00e9pondis sans balancer que j'y consentais. Je fis toutefois\nquelques c\u00e9r\u00e9monies pour lui donner \u00e0 entendre que c'\u00e9tait enti\u00e8rement \u00e0\nsa consid\u00e9ration, et parce que, ne pouvant l'entra\u00eener, je voulais lui\nprouver ma d\u00e9f\u00e9rence par mon z\u00e8le pour son fils. Mais ces choses sont\ntrop fastidieuses pour que je les r\u00e9p\u00e8te ici. Il envoya le lendemain\nchercher son fils, qui, au bout de vingt jours, arriva avec le messager,\namenant six ou sept chevaux charg\u00e9s de tr\u00e8s-riches pelleteries d'une\nvaleur consid\u00e9rable.\nLes valets firent entrer les chevaux dans la ville, mais ils laiss\u00e8rent\nleur jeune seigneur \u00e0 quelque distance. \u00c0 la nuit, il se rendit\nincognito dans notre appartement, et son p\u00e8re me le pr\u00e9senta.\nSur-le-champ nous concert\u00e2mes notre voyage, et nous en r\u00e9gl\u00e2mes touts\nles pr\u00e9paratifs.\nJ'achetai une grande quantit\u00e9 de zibelines, de peaux de renards noirs,\nde belles hermines, et d'autres riches pelleteries, je les troquai,\nveux-je dire, dans cette ville, contre quelques-unes, des marchandises\nque j'avais apport\u00e9es de Chine, particuli\u00e8rement contre des clous de\ngirofle, des noix muscades dont je vendis l\u00e0 une grande partie, et le\nreste plus tard \u00e0 Archangel, beaucoup plus avantageusement que je ne\nl'eusse fait \u00e0 Londres; aussi mon partner, qui \u00e9tait fort sensible aux\nprofits et pour qui le n\u00e9goce \u00e9tait chose plus importante que pour moi,\nfut-il excessivement satisfait de notre s\u00e9jour en ce lieu \u00e0 cause du\ntrafic que nous y f\u00eemes.\nCe fut au commencement de juin que je quittai cette place recul\u00e9e; cette\nville dont, je crois, on entend peu parler dans le monde; elle est, par\nle fait, si \u00e9loign\u00e9e de toutes les routes du commerce, que je ne vois\npas pourquoi on s'en entretiendrait beaucoup. Nous ne formions plus\nalors qu'une tr\u00e8s-petite caravane, compos\u00e9e seulement de trente-deux\nchevaux et chameaux. Touts passaient pour \u00eatre \u00e0 moi, quoique onze\nd'entre eux appartinssent \u00e0 mon nouvel h\u00f4te. Il \u00e9tait donc tr\u00e8s-naturel\napr\u00e8s cela que je m'attachasse un plus grand nombre de domestiques. Le\njeune seigneur passa pour mon intendant; pour quel grand personnage\npassai-je moi-m\u00eame? je ne sais; je ne pris pas la peine de m'en\ninformer. Nous e\u00fbmes ici \u00e0 traverser le plus d\u00e9testable et le plus grand\nd\u00e9sert que nous eussions rencontr\u00e9 dans tout le voyage; je dis le plus\nd\u00e9testable parce que le chemin \u00e9tait creux en quelques endroits et\ntr\u00e8s-in\u00e9gal dans d'autres. Nous nous consolions en pensant que nous\nn'avions \u00e0 redouter ni troupes de Tartares, ni brigands, que jamais ils\nne venaient sur ce c\u00f4t\u00e9 de l'Oby, ou du moins tr\u00e8s-rarement; mais nous\nnous m\u00e9comptions.\nMon jeune seigneur avait avec lui un fid\u00e8le valet moscovite ou plut\u00f4t\nsib\u00e9rien qui connaissait parfaitement le pays, et qui nous conduisit par\ndes chemins d\u00e9tourn\u00e9s pour que nous \u00e9vitassions d'entrer dans les\nprincipale villes \u00e9chelonn\u00e9es sur la grande route, telles que Tumen,\nSoloy-Kamaskoy et plusieurs autres, parce que les garnisons moscovites\nqui s'y trouvent examinent scrupuleusement les voyageurs, de peur que\nquelque exil\u00e9 de marque parvienne \u00e0 rentrer en Moscovie. Mais si, par ce\nmoyen, nous \u00e9vitions toutes recherches, en revanche nous faisions tout\nnotre voyage dans le d\u00e9sert, et nous \u00e9tions oblig\u00e9s de camper et de\ncoucher sous nos tentes, tandis que nous pouvions avoir de bons\nlogements dans les villes de la route. Le jeune seigneur le sentait si\nbien qu'il ne voulait pas nous permettre de coucher dehors, quand nous\nvenions \u00e0 rencontrer quelque bourg sur notre chemin. Il se retirait seul\navec son domestique et passait la nuit en plein air dans les bois, puis\nle lendemain il nous rejoignait au rendez-vous.\nNous entr\u00e2mes en Europe en passant le fleuve Kama, qui, dans cette\nr\u00e9gion, s\u00e9pare l'Europe de l'Asie. La premi\u00e8re ville sur le c\u00f4t\u00e9\neurop\u00e9en s'appelle Soloy-Kamaskoy, ce qui veut dire la grande ville sur\nle fleuve Kama. Nous nous \u00e9tions imagin\u00e9 qu'arriv\u00e9s l\u00e0 nous verrions\nquelque changement notable chez les habitants, dans leurs m\u0153urs, leur\ncostume, leur religion, mais nous nous \u00e9tions tromp\u00e9s, nous avions\nencore \u00e0 traverser un vaste d\u00e9sert qui, \u00e0 ce qu'on rapporte, a pr\u00e8s de\nsept cents milles de long en quelques endroits, bien qu'il n'en ait pas\nplus de deux cents milles au lieu o\u00f9 nous le pass\u00e2mes, et jusqu'\u00e0 ce que\nnous f\u00fbmes sortis de cette horrible solitude nous trouv\u00e2mes tr\u00e8s-peu de\ndiff\u00e9rence entre cette contr\u00e9e et la Tartarie-Mongole.\nDERNI\u00c8RE AFFAIRE.\nNous trouv\u00e2mes les habitants pour la plupart payens et ne valant gu\u00e8re\nmieux que les Sauvages de l'Am\u00e9rique. Leurs maisons et leurs villages\nsont pleins d'idoles, et leurs m\u0153urs sont tout-\u00e0-fait barbares, except\u00e9\ndans les villes et dans les villages qui les avoisinent, o\u00f9 ces pauvres\ngens se pr\u00e9tendent Chr\u00e9tiens de l'\u00c9glise grecque, mais vraiment leur\nreligion est encore m\u00eal\u00e9e \u00e0 tant de restes de superstitions que c'est \u00e0\npeine si l'on peut en quelques endroits la distinguer d'avec la\nsorcellerie et la magie.\nEn traversant ce steppe, lorsque nous avions banni toute id\u00e9e de danger\nde notre esprit, comme je l'ai d\u00e9j\u00e0 insinu\u00e9, nous pens\u00e2mes \u00eatre pill\u00e9s\net d\u00e9trouss\u00e9s, et peut-\u00eatre assassin\u00e9s par une troupe de brigands.\n\u00c9taient-ils de ce pays, \u00e9taient-ce des bandes roulantes d'Ostiaks\n(esp\u00e8ce de Tartares ou de peuple sauvage du bord de l'Oby) qui r\u00f4daient\nainsi au loin, ou \u00e9taient-ce des chasseurs de zibelines de Sib\u00e9rie, je\nsuis encore \u00e0 le savoir, mais ce que je sais bien, par exemple, c'est\nqu'ils \u00e9taient touts \u00e0 cheval, qu'ils portaient des arcs et des fl\u00e8ches\net que nous les rencontr\u00e2mes d'abord au nombre de quarante-cinq environ.\nIls approch\u00e8rent de nous jusqu'\u00e0 deux port\u00e9es de mousquet, et sans autre\npr\u00e9ambule, ils nous environn\u00e8rent avec leurs chevaux et nous examin\u00e8rent\n\u00e0 deux reprise tr\u00e8s-attentivement. Enfin ils se post\u00e8rent juste dans\nnotre chemin, sur quoi nous nous range\u00e2mes en ligne devant nos chameaux,\nnous n'\u00e9tions pourtant que seize hommes en tout, et ainsi rang\u00e9s nous\nf\u00eemes halte et d\u00e9p\u00each\u00e2mes le valet sib\u00e9rien au service du jeune\nseigneur, pour voir quelle engeance c'\u00e9tait. Son ma\u00eetre le laissa aller\nd'autant plus volontiers qu'il avait une vive appr\u00e9hension que ce ne f\u00fbt\nune troupe de Sib\u00e9riens envoy\u00e9s \u00e0 sa poursuite. Cet homme s'avan\u00e7a vers\neux avec un drapeau parlementaire et les interpella. Mais quoiqu'il s\u00fbt\nplusieurs de leurs langues ou plut\u00f4t de leurs dialectes, il ne put\ncomprendre un mot de ce qu'ils r\u00e9pondaient. Toutefois \u00e0 quelques signes\nayant cru reconna\u00eetre qu'ils le mena\u00e7aient de lui tirer dessus s'il\ns'approchait, ce gar\u00e7on s'en revint comme il \u00e9tait parti. Seulement il\nnous dit qu'il pr\u00e9sumait, \u00e0 leur costume, que ces Tartares devaient\nappartenir \u00e0 quelque horde calmoucke ou circassienne, et qu'ils devaient\nse trouver en bien plus grand nombre dans le d\u00e9sert, quoiqu'il n'e\u00fbt\njamais entendu dire qu'auparavant ils eussent \u00e9t\u00e9 vus si loin vers le\nNord.\nC'\u00e9tait peu consolant pour nous, mais il n'y avait point de rem\u00e8de.--\u00c0\nmain gauche, \u00e0 environ un quart de mille de distance, se trouvait un\npetit bocage, un petit bouquet d'arbres tr\u00e8s-serr\u00e9s, et fort pr\u00e8s de la\nroute. Sur-le-champ je d\u00e9cidai qu'il nous fallait avancer jusqu'\u00e0 ces\narbres et nous y fortifier de notre mieux, envisageant d'abord que leur\nfeuillage nous mettrait en grande partie \u00e0 couvert des fl\u00e8ches de nos\nennemis, et, en second lieu, qu'ils ne pourraient venir nous y charger\nen masse: ce fut, \u00e0 vrai dire, mon vieux pilote, qui en fit la\nproposition. Ce brave avait cette pr\u00e9cieuse qualit\u00e9, qui ne\nl'abandonnait jamais, d'\u00eatre toujours le plus prompt et plus apte \u00e0 nous\ndiriger et \u00e0 nous encourager dans les occasions p\u00e9rilleuses. Nous\navan\u00e7\u00e2mes donc imm\u00e9diatement, et nous gagn\u00e2mes en toute h\u00e2te ce petit\nbois, sans que les Tartares ou les brigands, car nous ne savions comment\nles appeler, eussent fait le moindre mouvement pour nous en emp\u00eacher.\nQuand nous f\u00fbmes arriv\u00e9s, nous trouv\u00e2mes, \u00e0 notre grande satisfaction,\nque c'\u00e9tait un terrain mar\u00e9cageux et plein de fondri\u00e8res d'o\u00f9, sur le\nc\u00f4t\u00e9, s'\u00e9chappait une fontaine, formant un ruisseau, joint \u00e0 quelque\ndistance de l\u00e0 par un autre petit courant. En un mot c'\u00e9tait la source\nd'une rivi\u00e8re consid\u00e9rable appel\u00e9e plus loin Wirtska. Les arbres qui\ncroissaient autour de cette source n'\u00e9taient pas en tout plus de deux\ncents, mais ils \u00e9taient tr\u00e8s-gros et plant\u00e9s fort \u00e9pais. Aussi d\u00e8s que\nnous e\u00fbmes p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 dans ce bocage v\u00eemes-nous que nous y serions\nparfaitement \u00e0 l'abri de l'ennemi, \u00e0 moins qu'il ne m\u00eet pied \u00e0 terre\npour nous attaquer.\nMais afin de rendre cette attaque m\u00eame difficile, notre vieux Portugais,\navec une patience incroyable, s'avisa de couper \u00e0 demi de grandes\nbranches d'arbres et de les laisser pendre d'un tronc \u00e0 l'autre pour\nformer une esp\u00e8ce de palissade tout autour de nous.\nNous attendions l\u00e0 depuis quelques heures que nos ennemis ex\u00e9cutassent\nun mouvement sans nous \u00eatre apper\u00e7us qu'ils eussent fait mine de bouger,\nquand environ deux heures avant la nuit ils s'avanc\u00e8rent droit sur nous.\nQuoique nous ne l'eussions point remarqu\u00e9, nous v\u00eemes alors qu'ils\navaient \u00e9t\u00e9 rejoints par quelques gens de leur esp\u00e8ce, de sorte qu'ils\n\u00e9taient bien quatre-vingts cavaliers parmi lesquels nous cr\u00fbmes\ndistinguer quelques femmes. Lorsqu'ils furent \u00e0 demi-port\u00e9e de mousquet\nde notre petit bois, nous tir\u00e2mes un coup \u00e0 poudre et leur adress\u00e2mes la\nparole en langue russienne pour savoir ce qu'ils voulaient et leur\nenjoindre de se tenir \u00e0 distance; mais comme ils ne comprenaient rien \u00e0\nce que nous leur disions ce coup ne fit que redoubler leur fureur, et\nils se pr\u00e9cipit\u00e8rent du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du bois ne s'imaginant pas que nous y\n\u00e9tions si bien barricad\u00e9s qu'il leur serait impossible d'y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer.\nNotre vieux pilote, qui avait \u00e9t\u00e9 notre ing\u00e9nieur, fut aussi notre\ncapitaine. Il nous pria de ne point faire feu dessus qu'ils ne fussent \u00e0\nport\u00e9e de pistolet, afin de pouvoir \u00eatre s\u00fbrs de leur faire mordre la\npoussi\u00e8re, et de ne point tirer que nous ne fussions s\u00fbrs d'avoir bien\najust\u00e9. Nous nous en rem\u00eemes \u00e0 son commandement, mais il diff\u00e9ra si\nlong-temps le signal que quelques-uns de nos adversaires n'\u00e9taient pas\n\u00e9loign\u00e9s de nous de la longueur de deux piques quand nous leur envoy\u00e2mes\nnotre d\u00e9charge.\nNous vis\u00e2mes si juste, ou la Providence dirigea si s\u00fbrement nos coups,\nque de cette premi\u00e8re salve nous en tu\u00e2mes quatorze et en bless\u00e2mes\nplusieurs autres, cavaliers et chevaux; car nous avions touts charg\u00e9 nos\narmes de deux ou trois balles au moins.\nIls furent terriblement surpris de notre feu, et se retir\u00e8rent\nimm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 environ une centaine de verges. Ayant profit\u00e9 de ce\nmoment pour recharger nos armes, et voyant qu'ils se tenaient \u00e0 cette\ndistance, nous f\u00eemes une sortie et nous attrap\u00e2mes quatre ou cinq de\nleurs chevaux dont nous suppos\u00e2mes que les cavaliers avaient \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9s.\nAux corps rest\u00e9s sur la place nous reconn\u00fbmes de suite que ces gens\n\u00e9taient des Tartares; mais \u00e0 quel pays appartenaient-ils, mais comment\nen \u00e9taient-ils venus faire une excursion si longue, c'est ce que nous ne\np\u00fbmes savoir.\nEnviron une heure apr\u00e8s ils firent un second mouvement pour nous\nattaquer, et galop\u00e8rent autour de notre petit bois pour voir s'ils\npourraient y p\u00e9n\u00e9trer par quelque autre point; mais nous trouvant\ntoujours pr\u00eats \u00e0 leur faire face ils se retir\u00e8rent de nouveau: sur quoi\nnous r\u00e9sol\u00fbmes de ne pas bouger de l\u00e0 pour cette nuit.\nNous dorm\u00eemes peu, soyez s\u00fbr. Nous pass\u00e2mes la plus grande partie de la\nnuit \u00e0 fortifier notre assiette, et barricader toutes les perc\u00e9es du\nbois; puis faisant une garde s\u00e9v\u00e8re, nous attend\u00eemes le jour. Mais,\nquand il parut, il nous fit faire une f\u00e2cheuse d\u00e9couverte; car l'ennemi\nque nous pensions d\u00e9courag\u00e9 par la r\u00e9ception de la veille, s'\u00e9tait\nrenforc\u00e9 de plus de deux cents hommes et avait dress\u00e9 onze ou douze\nhuttes comme s'il \u00e9tait d\u00e9termin\u00e9 \u00e0 nous assi\u00e9ger. Ce petit camp \u00e9tait\nplant\u00e9 en pleine campagne \u00e0 trois quarts de mille de nous environ. Nous\nf\u00fbmes tout de bon grandement surpris \u00e0 cette d\u00e9couverte; et j'avoue que\nje me tins alors pour perdu, moi et tout ce que j'avais. La perte de mes\neffets, bien qu'ils fussent consid\u00e9rables, me touchait moins que la\npens\u00e9e de tomber entre les mains de pareils barbares, tout \u00e0 la fin de\nmon voyage, apr\u00e8s avoir travers\u00e9 tant d'obstacles et de hasards, et m\u00eame\nen vue du port o\u00f9 nous esp\u00e9rions s\u00fbret\u00e9 et d\u00e9livrance. Quant \u00e0 mon\npartner il enrageait; il protestait que la perte de ses marchandises\nserait sa ruine, qu'il aimait mieux mourir que d'\u00eatre r\u00e9duit \u00e0 la mis\u00e8re\net qu'il voulait combattre jusqu'\u00e0 la derni\u00e8re goutte de son sang.\nLe jeune seigneur, brave au possible, voulait aussi combattre jusqu'au\ndernier soupir, et mon vieux pilote avait pour opinion que nous pouvions\nr\u00e9sister \u00e0 nos ennemis, post\u00e9s comme nous l'\u00e9tions. Toute la journ\u00e9e se\npassa ainsi en discussions sur ce que nous devions faire, mais vers le\nsoir nous nous apper\u00e7\u00fbmes que le nombre de nos ennemis s'\u00e9tait encore\naccru. Comme ils r\u00f4daient en plusieurs bandes \u00e0 la recherche de quelque\nproie, peut-\u00eatre la premi\u00e8re bande avait-elle envoy\u00e9 des expr\u00e8s pour\ndemander du secours et donner avis aux autres du butin qu'elle avait\nd\u00e9couvert, et rien ne nous disait que le lendemain ils ne seraient pas\nencore en plus grand nombre; aussi commen\u00e7ai-je \u00e0 m'enqu\u00e9rir aupr\u00e8s des\ngens que nous avions amen\u00e9s de Tobolsk s'il n'y avait pas d'autres\nchemins des chemins plus d\u00e9tourn\u00e9s par lesquels nous pussions \u00e9chapper \u00e0\nces dr\u00f4les pendant la nuit, puis nous r\u00e9fugier dans quelque ville, ou\nnous procurer une escorte pour nous prot\u00e9ger dans le d\u00e9sert.\nLe Sib\u00e9rien, domestique du jeune seigneur, nous dit que si nous avions\nle dessein de nous retirer et non pas de combattre, il se chargerait \u00e0\nla nuit de nous faire prendre un chemin conduisant au Nord vers la\nrivi\u00e8re Petraz, par lequel nous pourrions indubitablement nous \u00e9vader\nsans que les Tartares y vissent goutte; mais il ajouta que son seigneur\nlui avait dit qu'il ne voulait pas s'enfuir, qu'il aimait mieux\ncombattre. Je lui r\u00e9pondis qu'il se m\u00e9prenait sur son seigneur qui \u00e9tait\nun homme trop sage pour vouloir se battre pour le plaisir de se battre;\nque son seigneur avait d\u00e9j\u00e0 donn\u00e9 des preuves de sa bravoure, et que je\nle tenais pour brave, mais que son seigneur avait trop de sens pour\nd\u00e9sirer mettre aux prises dix-sept ou dix-huit hommes avec cinq cents, \u00e0\nmoins d'une n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 in\u00e9vitable.--\u00abSi vous pensez r\u00e9ellement,\najoutai-je, qu'il nous soit possible de nous \u00e9chapper cette nuit, noue\nn'avons rien de mieux \u00e0 faire.\u00bb--\u00abQue mon seigneur m'en donne l'ordre,\nr\u00e9pliqua-t-il, et ma vie est \u00e0 vous si je ne l'accomplis pas.\u00bb Nous\namen\u00e2mes bient\u00f4t son ma\u00eetre \u00e0 donner cet ordre, secr\u00e8tement toutefois,\net nous nous pr\u00e9par\u00e2mes imm\u00e9diatement \u00e0 le mettre \u00e0 ex\u00e9cution.\nEt d'abord, aussit\u00f4t qu'il commen\u00e7a \u00e0 faire sombre, nous allum\u00e2mes un\nfeu dans notre petit camp, que nous entret\u00eenmes et que nous dispos\u00e2mes\nde mani\u00e8re \u00e0 ce qu'il p\u00fbt br\u00fbler toute la nuit, afin de faire croire aux\nTartares que nous \u00e9tions toujours l\u00e0; puis, d\u00e8s qu'il fit noir,\nc'est-\u00e0-dire d\u00e8s que nous p\u00fbmes voir les \u00e9toiles (car notre guide ne\nvoulut pas bouger auparavant), touts nos chevaux et nos chameaux se\ntrouvant pr\u00eats et charg\u00e9s, nous suiv\u00eemes notre nouveau guide, qui, je ne\ntardai pas \u00e0 m'en appercevoir, se guidait lui-m\u00eame sur l'\u00e9toile polaire,\ntout le pays ne formant jusqu'au loin qu'une vaste plaine.\nQuand nous e\u00fbmes march\u00e9 rudement pendant deux heures, le ciel, non pas\nqu'il e\u00fbt \u00e9t\u00e9 bien sombre jusque-l\u00e0, commen\u00e7a \u00e0 s'\u00e9claircir, la lune se\nleva, et bref il fit plus clair que nous ne l'aurions souhait\u00e9. Vers six\nheures du matin nous avions fait pr\u00e8s de quarante milles, \u00e0 vrai dire\nnous avions \u00e9reint\u00e9 nos chevaux. Nous trouv\u00e2mes alors un village russien\nnomm\u00e9 Kirmazinskoy o\u00f9 nous nous arr\u00eat\u00e2mes tout le jour. N'ayant pas eu\nde nouvelles de nos Tartares Calmoucks, environ deux heures avant la\nnuit nous nous rem\u00eemes en route et march\u00e2mes jusqu'\u00e0 huit heures du\nmatin, moins vite toutefois que la nuit pr\u00e9c\u00e9dente. Sur les sept heures\nnous pass\u00e2mes une petite rivi\u00e8re appel\u00e9e Kirtza et nous atteign\u00eemes une\nbonne et grande ville habit\u00e9e par les Russiens et tr\u00e8s-peupl\u00e9e, nomm\u00e9e\nOsomoys. Nous y appr\u00eemes que plusieurs troupes ou hordes de Calmoucks\ns'\u00e9taient r\u00e9pandues dans le d\u00e9sert, mais que nous n'en avions plus rien\n\u00e0 craindre, ce qui fut pour nous une grande satisfaction, je vous\nl'assure. Nous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s de nous procurer quelques chevaux frais en\nce lieu, et comme nous avions grand besoin de repos, nous y demeur\u00e2mes\ncinq jours; et mon partner et moi nous conv\u00eenmes de donner \u00e0 l'honn\u00eate\nSib\u00e9rien qui nous y avait conduits, la valeur de dix pistoles pour sa\npeine.\nApr\u00e8s une nouvelle marche de cinq jours nous atteign\u00eemes Veussima, sur\nla rivi\u00e8re Witzogda qui se jette dans la Dvina: nous touchions alors au\nterme heureux de nos voyages par terre, car ce fleuve, en sept jours de\nnavigation, pouvait nous conduire \u00e0 Archangel. De Veussima nous nous\nrend\u00eemes \u00e0 Laurenskoy, au confluent de la rivi\u00e8re, le 3 juillet, o\u00f9 nous\nnous procur\u00e2mes deux bateaux de transport, et une barge pour notre\npropre commodit\u00e9. Nous nous embarqu\u00e2mes le 7, et nous arriv\u00e2mes touts\nsains et saufs \u00e0 Archangel le 18, apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9t\u00e9 un an cinq mois et\ntrois jours en voyage, y compris notre station de huit mois et quelques\njours \u00e0 Tobolsk.\nNous f\u00fbmes oblig\u00e9s d'y attendre six semaines l'arriv\u00e9e des navires, et\nnous eussions attendu plus long-temps si un navire hambourgeois n'e\u00fbt\ndevanc\u00e9 de plus d'un mois touts les vaisseaux anglais. Consid\u00e9rant alors\nque nous pourrions nous d\u00e9faire de nos marchandises aussi\navantageusement \u00e0 Hambourg qu'\u00e0 Londres, nous pr\u00eemes touts passage sur\nce b\u00e2timent. Une fois nos effets \u00e0 bord, pour en avoir soin, rien ne fut\nplus naturel que d'y placer mon intendant, le jeune seigneur, qui, par\nce moyen, put se tenir cach\u00e9 parfaitement. Tout le temps que nous\ns\u00e9journ\u00e2mes encore il ne remit plus le pied \u00e0 terre, craignant de se\nmontrer dans la ville, o\u00f9 quelques-uns des marchands moscovites\nl'eussent certainement vu et reconnu.\nNous quitt\u00e2mes Archangel le 20 ao\u00fbt de la m\u00eame ann\u00e9e, et, apr\u00e8s un\nvoyage pas trop mauvais, nous entr\u00e2mes dans l'Elbe le 13 septembre. L\u00e0,\nmon partner et moi nous trouv\u00e2mes un tr\u00e8s-bon d\u00e9bit de nos marchandises\nchinoises, ainsi que de nos zibelines et autres pelleteries de Sib\u00e9rie.\nNous f\u00eemes alors le partage de nos b\u00e9n\u00e9fices, et ma part montait \u00e0 3,475\nlivres sterling 17 _shillings_ et 3 _pence_, malgr\u00e9 toutes les pertes\nque nous avions essuy\u00e9es et les frais que nous avions eus; seulement, je\nme souviens que j'y avais compris la valeur d'environ 600 livres\nsterling pour les diamants que j'avais achet\u00e9s au Bengale.\nLe jeune seigneur prit alors cong\u00e9 de nous, et s'embarqua sur l'Elbe,\ndans le dessein de se rendre \u00e0 la Cour de Vienne, o\u00f9 il avait r\u00e9solu de\nchercher protection et d'o\u00f9 il pourrait correspondre avec ceux des amis\nde son p\u00e8re qui vivaient encore. Il ne se s\u00e9para pas de moi sans me\nt\u00e9moigner toute sa gratitude pour le service que je lui avais rendu, et\nsans se montrer p\u00e9n\u00e9tr\u00e9 de mes bont\u00e9s pour le prince son p\u00e8re.\nPour conclusion, apr\u00e8s \u00eatre demeur\u00e9 pr\u00e8s de quatre mois \u00e0 Hambourg, je\nme rendis par terre \u00e0 La Haye, o\u00f9 je m'embarquai sur le paquebot, et\nj'arrivai \u00e0 Londres le 10 janvier 1705. Il y avait dix ans et neuf mois\nque j'\u00e9tais absent d'Angleterre.\nEnfin, bien r\u00e9solu \u00e0 ne pas me harasser davantage, je suis en train de\nme pr\u00e9parer pour un plus long voyage que touts ceux-ci, ayant pass\u00e9\nsoixante-douze ans d'une vie d'une vari\u00e9t\u00e9 infinie, ayant appris\nsuffisamment \u00e0 conna\u00eetre le prix de la retraite et le bonheur qu'il y a\n\u00e0 finir ses jours en paix.\nFIN DE ROBINSON\nNOTES:\n[1] Voir \u00e0 la Dissertation religieuse.\n[2] Voir \u00e0 la Dissertation religieuse.\n[3] Ce paragraphe et le fragment que nous renvoyons \u00e0 la Dissertation\nont \u00e9t\u00e9 supprim\u00e9s dans une \u00e9dition contemporaine o\u00f9 l'on se borne au\nr\u00f4le de traducteur fid\u00e8le.\n[4] La pi\u00e8ce de huit ou de huit testons, dont il a souvent \u00e9t\u00e9 parl\u00e9\ndans le cours de cet ouvrage, est une pi\u00e8ce d'or portugaise valant\nenviron 5 Fr. 66 cent.\n[5] Le _MOIDORES_ que les Fran\u00e7ais nomment _noror_ et les Portugais\n_nordadouro_, est aussi une pi\u00e8ce d'or qui vaut environ 33 Fr. 96 cent.\nP. B.\n[6] Dans l'\u00e9dition o\u00f9 l'on se borne au r\u00f4le de traducteur fid\u00e8le, les\ncinq paragraphes, \u00e0 partir de: _J'eus alors la pens\u00e9e_..., jusqu'\u00e0: _ma\nfid\u00e8le amie la veuve_..., ont \u00e9t\u00e9 supprim\u00e9s. P. B.\n[7] Dans l'\u00e9dition o\u00f9 l'on se borne au r\u00f4le de traducteur fid\u00e8le, les\ncinq paragraphes pr\u00e9c\u00e9dents ont \u00e9t\u00e9 supprim\u00e9s. P. B.\n[8] What is bred in the bone will not go out of the flesh.\n    Free from vices, free from care,\n    Age has me pains, and youth ne snare.\n[10] Un liard, un quart de denier sterling.\n[11] Petit navire \u00e0 un m\u00e2t. _(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[12] Gros canon court. _(Note du correcteur--ELG.)_\n[13] H\u00f4pital des fous.\n[14] Voir \u00e0 la Dissertation religieuse.\n[15] Voir \u00e0 la Dissertation religieuse.\n[16] Voir \u00e0 la Dissertation religieuse.\n[17] _Straggling_. La traduction contemporaine (indigne du beau nom de\nMADAME TASTU) dont il est parl\u00e9 dans notre pr\u00e9face et dans les quelques\nnotes pr\u00e9c\u00e9dentes, porte TRA\u00ceNARDS. Toutes les pages de cette traduction\nsont \u00e9maill\u00e9es de pareils BARBARISMES: il est d\u00e9plorable qu'un livre\ndestin\u00e9 \u00e0 l'\u00e9ducation de la jeunesse soit une \u00e9cole de jargon. P. B.\n[18] Dans la susdite traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de\nMADAME TASTU, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on se borne au r\u00f4le de TRADUCTEUR FID\u00c8LE,\nce paragraphe et le suivant sont compl\u00e8tement pass\u00e9s. P. B.\n[19] Ici, dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de\nMADAME TASTU, est intercal\u00e9 un long rab\u00e2chage sur la sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9 de cet\neccl\u00e9siastique et sur le faux z\u00e8le et la rapacit\u00e9 des missionnaires, o\u00f9\nil est dit que le Chinois Confucius fait partie du calendrier de nos\nSaints. Je ne sais si ce morceau peu regrettable est de Daniel de Fo\u00eb:\nje ne l'ai point trouv\u00e9 dans l'\u00e9dition originale de Stockdale, ni dans\nl'\u00e9dition donn\u00e9e par John Walker en 1848 P. B.\n[20] Ici, dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de\nMADAME TASTU, se trouve entre mille autres, cette phrase barbare:\n_Lorsqu'un des matelots vint \u00e0 moi, et me dit qu'il voulait_ M'\u00c9VITER LA\nPEINE...\nPardon, on N'\u00c9VITE pas une peine \u00e0 quelqu'un. On \u00e9pargne une peine,\nc'est un mauvais lieu et une mauvaise traduction qu'on \u00e9vite. Je l'ai\nd\u00e9j\u00e0 dit, il serait bien dans un livre destin\u00e9 \u00e0 l'\u00e9ducation de la\njeunesse d'\u00e9viter de pareilles incongruit\u00e9s. P. B.\n[21] _But I am sure we came honestly and fairly by the ship._--Ici,\ndans la traduction contemporaine, toujours indigne du beau nom de MADAME\nTASTU, on a confondu le verbe TO COME, venir, et TO COME BY, qui a le\nsens d'acqu\u00e9rir et l'on a fait ce joli non-sens et contresens: ET QUE JE\nSOIS S\u00dbR D'\u00caTRE VENU TR\u00c8S-PAISIBLEMENT ET TR\u00c8S-HONN\u00caTEMENT SUR CE\nNAVIRE.--Nous citons ceci entre mille comme m\u00e9mento seulement. P. B.\n[22] Dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de MADAME\nTASTU, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on se borne au r\u00f4le de TRADUCTEUR FID\u00c8LE, toute\nla fin de ce paragraphe est supprim\u00e9e et remplac\u00e9e par ce non-sens:\nC'E\u00dbT \u00c9T\u00c9 NOTRE PESTE, SANS AUCUN ESPOIR DE SALUT. P. B.\n[23] On a pass\u00e9 sous silence tout le commencement de ce paragraphe et la\nmoiti\u00e9 du pr\u00e9c\u00e9dent, dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau\nnom de MADAME TASTU, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on s'est born\u00e9 r\u00f4le de TRADUCTEUR\nFID\u00c8LE. P.B.\n[24] On a pass\u00e9 sous silence toute la fin de ce paragraphe dans la\ntraduction, indigne du beau nom de MADAME TASTU, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on\ns'est born\u00e9 au r\u00f4le de TRADUCTEUR FID\u00c8LE. P. B.\n[25] _Paucit\u00e9_: Petite quantit\u00e9, petit nombre. (Note du correcteur ELG)\n[26] On a supprim\u00e9 toute la fin de ce paragraphe, ainsi que la fin de\ntrois ou quatre paragraphes pr\u00e9c\u00e9dents et suivants, dans la traduction\ncontemporaine, indigne du beau nom de MADAME TASTU, o\u00f9, soi-disant, on\ns'est born\u00e9 au r\u00f4le de TRADUCTEUR FID\u00c8LE. P. B.\n[27] On a pass\u00e9 sous silence la fin de ce paragraphe et le commencement\ndu suivant dans la traduction contemporaine, indigne du beau nom de\nMADAME TASTU.--D\u00e9sormais nous nous abstiendrons, de relever les\nmutilations que, dans la nouvelle traduction, on a fait subir \u00e0 toute la\nderni\u00e8re partie de ROBINSON: il faudrait une note \u00e0 chaque phrase. (P.\n[28] Nous avions promis de ne plus faire de notes; cependant, il ne nous\nest gu\u00e8re possible de ne pas dire qu'ici, dans la traduction\ncontemporaine, indigne du beau nom de MADAME TASTU, on a pass\u00e9 sous\nsilence CINQ pages et DEMIE du texte original, \u00e0 partir de _Vers le\nsoir..._ jusqu'\u00e0 _Le matin_...: c'est vraiment commode. P. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Richard J. Shiffer and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n[Transcriber's Note: Every effort has been made to replicate this text\nas faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and\nother inconsistencies. Text that has been changed to correct an obvious\nerror is noted at the end of this ebook.\nBritish Library shows this was first published 1715 and reprinted by D.\nA. Talboys, Oxford, 1841.]\n  AN APPEAL\n  TO\n  HONOUR AND JUSTICE,\n  THOUGH IT BE OF HIS WORST ENEMIES,\n  BY\n  DANIEL DE FOE;\n  BEING\n  A TRUE ACCOUNT OF HIS CONDUCT IN PUBLIC\n  AFFAIRS.\n  \"Come and let us smite him with the tongue, and let us not give\n  heed to any of his words.\" JEREMIAH, xviii. 18.\n  _LONDON_:\n  Printed for and Sold by J. BAKER, at the _Black\n  Boy_ in _Paternoster-Row_.\nAPPEAL, &c.\nI hope the time is come at last when the voice of moderate principles\nmay be heard. Hitherto the noise has been so great, and the prejudices\nand passions of men so strong, that it had been but in vain to offer at\nany argument, or for any man to talk of giving a reason for his actions;\nand this alone has been the cause why, when other men, who, I think,\nhave less to say in their own defence, are appealing to the public, and\nstruggling to defend themselves, I alone have been silent under the\ninfinite clamours and reproaches, causeless curses, unusual\nthreatenings, and the most unjust and injurious treatment in the world.\nI hear much of people's calling out to punish the guilty, but very few\nare concerned to clear the innocent. I hope some will be inclined to\njudge impartially, and have yet reserved so much of the Christian as to\nbelieve, and at least to hope, that a rational creature cannot abandon\nhimself so as to act without some reason, and are willing not only to\nhave me defend myself, but to be able to answer for me where they hear\nme causelessly insulted by others, and, therefore, are willing to have\nsuch just arguments put into their mouths as the cause will bear.\nAs for those who are prepossessed, and according to the modern justice\nof parties are resolved to be so, let them go; I am not arguing with\nthem, but against them; they act so contrary to justice, to reason, to\nreligion, so contrary to the rules of Christians and of good manners,\nthat they are not to be argued with, but to be exposed, or entirely\nneglected. I have a receipt against all the uneasiness which it may be\nsupposed to give me, and that is, to contemn slander, and think it not\nworth the least concern; neither should I think it worth while to give\nany answer to it, if it were not on some other accounts of which I shall\nspeak as I go on. If any young man ask me why I am in such haste to\npublish this matter at this time, among many other good reasons which I\ncould give, these are some:--\n1. I think I have long enough been made _Fabula Vulgi_, and borne the\nweight of general slander; and I should be wanting to truth, to my\nfamily, and to myself, if I did not give a fair and true state of my\nconduct, for impartial men to judge of, when I am no more in being to\nanswer for myself.\n2. By the hints of mortality, and by the infirmities of a life of sorrow\nand fatigue, I have reason to think I am not a great way off from, if\nnot very near to, the great ocean of eternity, and the time may not be\nlong ere I embark on the last voyage. Wherefore, I think I should even\naccounts with this world before I go, that no actions (slanders) may lie\nagainst my heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, to disturb\nthem in the peaceable possession of their father's (character)\ninheritance.\n3. I fear--God grant I have not a second-sight in it--that this lucid\ninterval of temper and moderation, which shines, though dimly too, upon\nus at this time, will be but of short continuance, and that some men,\nwho know not how to use the advantage God has put into their hands with\nmoderation, will push, in spite of the best prince in the world, at such\nextravagant things, and act with such an intemperate forwardness, as\nwill revive the heats and animosities which wise and good men were in\nhopes should be allayed by the happy accession of the king to the\nthrone.\nIt is and ever was my opinion, that moderation is the only virtue by\nwhich the peace and tranquillity of this nation can be preserved. Even\nthe king himself--I believe his majesty will allow me that freedom--can\nonly be happy in the enjoyment of the crown by a moderative\nadministration. If his majesty should be obliged, contrary to his known\ndisposition, to join with intemperate councils, if it does not lessen\nhis security, I am persuaded it will lessen his satisfaction. It cannot\nbe pleasant or agreeable, and I think it cannot be safe, to any just\nprince, to rule over a divided people, split into incensed and\nexasperated parties. Though a skilful mariner may have courage to master\na tempest, and goes fearless through a storm, yet he can never be said\nto delight in the danger; a fresh, fair gale, and a quiet sea, is the\npleasure of his voyage, and we have a saying worth notice to them that\nare otherwise minded, _Qui amat periculum, periebat in illo_.\nTo attain at the happy calm, which, as I say, is the safety of Britain,\nis the question which should now move us all; and he would merit to be\ncalled the nation's physician that could prescribe the specific for it.\nI think I may be allowed to say, a conquest of parties will never do it;\na balance of parties may. Some are for the former; they talk high of\npunishments, letting blood, revenging the treatment they have met with,\nand the like. If they, not knowing what spirit they are of, think this\nthe course to be taken, let them try their hands; I shall give them up\nfor lost, and look for their downfall from that time; for the ruin of\nall such tempers slumbereth not.\nIt is many years that I have professed myself an enemy to all\nprecipitations in public administrations; and often I have attempted to\nshow, that hot councils have ever been destructive to those who have\nmade use of them. Indeed, they have not always been a disadvantage to\nthe nation, as in king James II.'s reign, when, as I have often said in\nprint, his precipitation was the safety of us all: and if he had\nproceeded temperately and politicly, we had been undone. _Felix quem\nfaciunt._\nBut these things have been spoken when your ferment has been too high\nfor anything to be heard; whether you will hear it now or no, I know\nnot; and therefore it was that I said, I fear the present cessation of\nparty arms will not hold long. These are some of the reasons why I think\nthis is the proper juncture for me to give some account of myself, and\nof my past conduct to the world; and that I may do this as effectually\nas I can, being perhaps never more to speak from the press, I shall, as\nconcisely as I can, give an abridgment of my own history during the few\nunhappy years I have employed myself, or been employed, in public in the\nworld.\nMisfortunes in business having unhinged me from matters of trade, it was\nabout the year 1694 when I was invited by some merchants, with whom I\nhad corresponded abroad, and some also at home, to settle at Cadiz, in\nSpain, and that with offers of very good commissions. But Providence,\nwhich had other work for me to do, placed a secret aversion in my mind\nto quitting England upon any account, and made me refuse the best offers\nof that kind, to be concerned with some eminent persons at home in\nproposing ways and means to the government, for raising money to supply\nthe occasions of the war then newly begun. Some time after this I was,\nwithout the least application of mine, and being then seventy miles from\nLondon, sent for to be accountant to the commissioners of the glass\nduty, in which service I continued to the determination of their\ncommission.\nDuring this time there came out a vile abhorred pamphlet in very ill\nverse, written by one Mr. Tutchin, and called The Foreigners, in which\nthe author--who he was I then knew not--fell personally upon the king\nhimself, and then upon the Dutch nation; and after having reproached his\nmajesty with crimes that his worst enemy could not think of without\nhorror, he sums up all in the odious name of FOREIGNER.\nThis filled me with a kind of rage against the book, and gave birth to a\ntrifle, which I never could hope should have met with so general an\nacceptation as it did; I mean The True-born Englishman. How this poem\nwas the occasion of my being known to his majesty; how I was afterwards\nreceived by him; how employed; and how, above my capacity of deserving,\nrewarded, is no part of the present case, and is only mentioned here, as\nI take all occasions to do, for the expressing the honour I ever\npreserved for the immortal and glorious memory of that greatest and best\nof princes, and whom it was my honour and advantage to call master, as\nwell as sovereign; whose goodness to me I never forgot, neither can\nforget; and whose memory I never patiently heard abused, nor ever can do\nso; and who, had he lived, would never have suffered me to be treated as\nI have been in the world. But Heaven for our sins removed him in\njudgment. How far the treatment he met with from the nation he came to\nsave, and whose deliverance he finished, was admitted by Heaven to be a\nmeans of his death, I desire to forget for their sakes who are guilty;\nand if this calls any of it to mind, it is mentioned to move them to\ntreat him better who is now, with like principles of goodness and\nclemency, appointed by God and the constitution to be their sovereign,\nlest He that protects righteous princes avenge the injuries they receive\nfrom an ungrateful people by giving them up to the confusions their\nmadness leads them to.\nAnd in their just acclamations at the happy accession of his present\nmajesty to the throne, I cannot but advise them to look back and call to\nmind who it was that first guided them to the family of Hanover, and to\npass by all the popish branches of Orleans and Savoy; recognising the\njust authority of parliament in the undoubted right of limiting the\nsuccession, and establishing that glorious maxim of our settlement,\nviz., that it is inconsistent with the constitution of this protestant\nkingdom to be governed by a popish prince. I say, let them call to mind\nwho it was that guided their thoughts first to the protestant race of\nour own kings in the house of Hanover; and that it is to king William,\nnext to Heaven itself, to whom we owe the enjoying a protestant king at\nthis time. I need not go back to the particulars of his majesty's\nconduct in that affair; his journey in person to the country of Hanover\nand the court of Zell; his particular management of the affair\nafterwards at home, perfecting the design by naming the illustrious\nfamily to the nation, and bringing about a parliamentary settlement to\neffect it; entailing the crown thereby in so effectual a manner as we\nsee has been sufficient to prevent the worst designs of our Jacobite\npeople in behalf of the pretender; a settlement, together with the\nsubsequent acts which followed it, and the Union with Scotland, which\nmade it unalterable, that gave a complete satisfaction to those who knew\nand understood it, and removed those terrible apprehensions of the\npretender (which some entertained) from the minds of others, who were\nyet as zealous against him as it was possible for any to be. Upon this\nsettlement, as I shall show presently, I grounded my opinion, which I\noften expressed, viz., that I did not see it possible the Jacobites\ncould ever set up their idol here, and I think my opinion abundantly\njustified in the consequences; of which by and by.\nThis digression, as a debt to the glorious memory of king William, I\ncould not in justice omit; and as the reign of his present majesty is\nesteemed happy, and looked upon as a blessing from heaven by us, it will\nmost necessarily lead us to bless the memory of king William, to whom we\nowe so much of it. How easily could his majesty have led us to other\nbranches, whose relation to the crown might have had large pretences!\nWhat prince but would have submitted to have educated a successor of his\nrace in the protestant religion for the sake of such a crown? But the\nking, who had our happiness in view, and saw as far into it as any human\nsight could penetrate; who knew we were not to be governed by\ninexperienced youths; that the protestant religion was not to be\nestablished by political converts; and that princes, under French\ninfluence, or instructed in French politics, were not proper instruments\nto preserve the liberties of Britain, fixed his eyes upon the family\nwhich now possesses the crown, as not only having an undoubted relation\nto it by blood, but as being first and principally zealous and powerful\nasserters of the protestant religion and interest against popery; and,\nsecondly, stored with a visible succession of worthy and promising\nbranches, who appeared equal to the weight of government, qualified to\nfill a throne and guide a nation, which, without reflection, are not\nfamed to be the most easy to rule in the world.\nWhether the consequence has been a credit to king William's judgment I\nneed not say. I am not writing panegyrics here, but doing justice to\nthe memory of the king my master, whom I have had the honour very often\nto hear express himself with great satisfaction in having brought the\nsettlement of the succession to so good an issue; and, to repeat his\nmajesty's own words, that he knew no prince in Europe so fit to be king\nof England as the elector of Hanover. I am persuaded, without any\nflattery, that if it should not every way answer the expectations his\nmajesty had of it, the fault will be our own. God grant the king may\nhave more comfort of his crown than we suffered king William to have!\nThe king being dead, and the queen proclaimed, the hot men of that side,\nas the hot men of all sides do, thinking the game in their own hands,\nand all other people under their feet, began to run out into those mad\nextremes, and precipitate themselves into such measures as, according to\nthe fate of all intemperate councils, ended in their own confusion, and\nthrew them at last out of the saddle.\nThe queen, who, though willing to favour the high-church party, did not\nthereby design the ruin of those whom she did not employ, was soon\nalarmed at their wild conduct, and turned them out, adhering to the\nmoderate counsels of those who better understood, or more faithfully\npursued, her majesty's and the country's interest. In this turn fell sir\nEdward Seymour's party, for so the high men were then called; and to\nthis turn we owe the conversion of several other great men, who became\nwhigs on that occasion, which it is known they were not before; which\nconversion afterwards begat that unkind distinction of old whig and\nmodern whig, which some of the former were with very little justice\npleased to run up afterwards to an extreme very pernicious to both.\nBut I am gone too far in this part. I return to my own story.\nIn the interval of these things, and during the heat of the first fury\nof highflying, I fell a sacrifice for writing against the rage and\nmadness of that high party, and in the service of the dissenters. What\njustice I met with, and, above all, what mercy, is too well known to\nneed repetition.\nThis introduction is made that it may bring me to what has been the\nfoundation of all my further concern in public affairs, and will produce\na sufficient reason for my adhering to those whose obligations upon me\nwere too strong to be resisted, even when many things were done by them\nwhich I could not approve; and for this reason it is that I think it\nnecessary to distinguish how far I did or did not adhere to, or join in\nor with, the persons or conduct of the late government; and those who\nare willing to judge with impartiality and charity, will see reason to\nuse me the more tenderly in their thoughts, when they weigh the\nparticulars.\nI will make no reflections upon the treatment I met with from the people\nI suffered for, or how I was abandoned even in my sufferings, at the\nsame time that they acknowledged the service I had been to their cause;\nbut I must mention it to let you know that while I lay friendless and\ndistressed in the prison of Newgate, my family ruined, and myself\nwithout hope of deliverance, a message was brought me from a person of\nhonour, who, till that time, I had never had the least acquaintance\nwith, or knowledge of, other than by fame, or by sight, as we know men\nof quality by seeing them on public occasions. I gave no present answer\nto the person who brought it, having not duly weighed the import of the\nmessage. The message was by word of mouth thus:--\"Pray, ask that\ngentleman what I can do for him?\" But in return to this kind and\ngenerous message, I immediately took my pen and ink, and wrote the story\nof the blind man in the gospel, who followed our Saviour, and to whom\nour blessed Lord put the question, \"What wilt thou that I should do unto\nthee?\" Who, as if he had made it strange that such a question should be\nasked, or as if he had said that I am blind, and yet ask me what thou\nshalt do for me? My answer is plain in my misery, \"Lord, that I may\nreceive my sight?\"\nI needed not to make the application. And from this time, although I lay\nfour months in prison after this, and heard no more of it, yet from this\ntime, as I learned afterwards, this noble person made it his business to\nhave my case represented to her majesty, and methods taken for my\ndeliverance.\nI mention this part, because I am no more to forget the obligation upon\nme to the queen, than to my first benefactor.\nWhen her majesty came to have the truth of the case laid before her, I\nsoon felt the effects of her royal goodness and compassion. And first,\nher majesty declared, that she left all that matter to a certain person,\nand did not think he would have used me in such a manner. Probably these\nwords may seem imaginary to some, and the speaking them to be of no\nvalue, and so they would have been had they not been followed with\nfurther and more convincing proofs of what they imported, which were\nthese, that her majesty was pleased particularly to inquire into my\ncircumstances and family, and by my lord treasurer Godolphin to send a\nconsiderable supply to my wife and family, and to send to me the prison\nmoney to pay my fine and the expenses of my discharge. Whether this be\na just foundation let my enemies judge. Here is the foundation on which\nI built my first sense of duty to her majesty's person, and the\nindelible bond of gratitude to my first benefactor.\nGratitude and fidelity are inseparable from an honest man. But, to be\nthus obliged by a stranger, by a man of quality and honour, and after\nthat by the sovereign under whose administration I was suffering, let\nany one put himself in my stead, and examine upon what principles I\ncould ever act against either such a queen, or such a benefactor; and\nwhat must my own heart reproach me with, what blushes must have covered\nmy face when I had looked in, and called myself ungrateful to him that\nsaved me thus from distress, or her that fetched me out of the dungeon,\nand gave my family relief? Let any man who knows what principles are,\nwhat engagements of honour and gratitude are, make his case his own, and\nsay what I could have done more or less than I have done.\nI must go on a little with the detail of the obligation, and then I\nshall descend to relate what I have done, and what I have not done, in\nthe case.\nBeing delivered from the distress I was in, her majesty, who was not\nsatisfied to do me good by a single act of her bounty, had the goodness\nto think of taking me into her service, and I had the honour to be\nemployed in several honourable, though secret services, by the\ninterposition of my first benefactor, who then appeared as a member in\nthe public administration.\nI had the happiness to discharge myself in all these trusts so much to\nthe satisfaction of those who employed me, though oftentimes with\ndifficulty and danger, that my lord treasurer Godolphin, whose memory I\nhave always honoured, was pleased to continue his favour to me, and to\ndo me all good offices with her majesty, even after an unhappy breach\nhad separated him from my first benefactor, the particulars of which may\nnot be improper to relate; and as it is not an injustice to any, so I\nhope it will not be offensive.\nWhen, upon that fatal breach, the secretary of state was dismissed from\nthe service, I looked upon myself as lost; it being a general rule in\nsuch cases, when a great officer falls, that all who came in by his\ninterest fall with him; and resolving never to abandon the fortunes of\nthe man to whom I owed so much of my own, I quitted the usual\napplications which I had made to my lord treasurer.\nBut my generous benefactor, when he understood it, frankly told me that\nI should by no means do so; \"For,\" said he, in the most engaging terms,\n\"my lord treasurer will employ you in nothing but what is for the public\nservice, and agreeably to your own sentiments of things; and besides, it\nis the queen you are serving, who has been very good to you. Pray, apply\nyourself as you used to do; I shall not take it ill from you in the\nleast.\"\nUpon this, I went to wait on my lord-treasurer, who received me with\ngreat freedom, and told me, smiling, he had not seen me a long while. I\ntold his lordship very frankly the occasion--that the unhappy breach\nthat had fallen out made me doubtful whether I should be acceptable to\nhis lordship. That I knew it was usual when great persons fall, that all\nwho were in their interest fell with them. That his lordship knew the\nobligations I was under, and that I could not but fear my interest in\nhis lordship was lessened on that account. \"Not at all, Mr. De Foe,\"\nreplied his lordship, \"I always think a man honest till I find to the\ncontrary.\"\nUpon this, I attended his lordship as usual; and being resolved to\nremove all possible ground of suspicion that I kept any secret\ncorrespondence, I never visited, or wrote to, or any way corresponded\nwith my principal benefactor for above three years; which he so well\nknew the reason of, and so well approved that punctual behaviour in me,\nthat he never took it ill from me at all.\nIn consequence of this reception, my lord Godolphin had the goodness not\nonly to introduce me for the second time to her majesty, and to the\nhonour of kissing her hand, but obtained for me the continuance of an\nappointment which her majesty had been pleased to make me, in\nconsideration of a formal special service I had done, and in which I had\nrun as much risk of my life as a grenadier upon the counterscarp; and\nwhich appointment, however, was first obtained for me at the\nintercession of my said first benefactor, and is all owing to that\nintercession and her majesty's bounty. Upon this second introduction,\nher majesty was pleased to tell me, with a goodness peculiar to herself,\nthat she had such satisfaction in my former services, that she had\nappointed me for another affair, which was something nice, and that my\nlord treasurer should tell me the rest; and so I withdrew.\nThe next day, his lordship having commanded me to attend, told me that\nhe must send me to Scotland, and gave me but three days to prepare\nmyself. Accordingly, I went to Scotland, where neither my business, nor\nthe manner of my discharging it, is material to this tract; nor will it\nbe ever any part of my character that I reveal what should be concealed.\nAnd yet, my errand was such as was far from being unfit for a sovereign\nto direct, or an honest man to perform; and the service I did upon that\noccasion, as it is not unknown to the greatest man now in the nation\nunder the king and the prince, so, I dare say, his grace was never\ndispleased with the part I had in it, and I hope will not forget it.\nThese things I mention upon this account, and no other, viz., to state\nthe obligation I have been in all along to her majesty personally, and\nto my first benefactor principally; by which I say, I think I was at\nleast obliged not to act against them, even in those things which I\nmight not approve. Whether I have acted with them further than I ought,\nshall be spoken of by itself.\nHaving said thus much of the obligations laid on me, and the persons by\nwhom, I have this only to add, that I think no man will say, a subject\ncould be under greater bonds to his prince, or a private person to a\nminister of state; and I shall ever preserve this principle, that an\nhonest man cannot be ungrateful to his benefactor.\nBut let no man run away now with the notion, that I am now intending to\nplead the obligation that was laid upon me from her majesty, or from any\nother person, to justify my doing anything that is not otherwise to be\njustified in itself.\nNothing would be more injurious than such a construction; and therefore\nI capitulate for so much justice as to explain myself by this\ndeclaration, viz., that I only speak of those obligations as binding me\nto a negative conduct, not to fly in the face of, or concern myself in\ndisputes with those to whom I was under such obligations, although I\nmight not, in my judgment, join in many things that were done. No\nobligation could excuse me in calling evil good, or good evil; but I am\nof the opinion, that I might justly think myself obliged to defend what\nI thought was to be defended, and to be silent in anything which I might\nthink was not.\nIf this is a crime, I must plead guilty, and give in the history of my\nobligation above mentioned as an extenuation at least, if not a\njustification of my conduct.\nSuppose a man's father was guilty of several things unlawful and\nunjustifiable; a man may heartily detest the unjustifiable thing, and\nyet it ought not to be expected that he should expose his father. I\nthink the case on my side exactly the same, nor can the duty to a parent\nbe more strongly obliging than the obligation laid on me; but I must\nallow the case on the other side not the same.\nAnd this brings me to the affirmative, and inquire what the matters of\nfact are; what I have done, or have not done, on account of these\nobligations which I am under.\nIt is a general suggestion, and is affirmed with such assurance, that\nthey tell me it is in vain to contradict it, that I have been employed\nby the earl of Oxford, late lord treasurer, in the late disputes about\npublic affairs, to write for him, or, to put it into their own\nparticulars, have written by his directions taken the materials from\nhim, been dictated to or instructed by him, or by other persons from\nhim, by his order, and the like; and that I have received a pension, or\nsalary, or payment from his lordship for such services as these. It was\nimpossible, since these things have been so confidently affirmed, but\nthat, if I could put it into words that would more fully express the\nmeaning of these people, I profess I would do it. One would think that\nsome evidence might be produced, some facts might appear, some one or\nother might be found that could speak of certain knowledge. To say\nthings have been carried too closely to be discovered, is saying\nnothing, for then they must own that it is not discovered; and how then\ncan they affirm it as they do, with such an assurance as nothing ought\nto be affirmed by honest men, unless they were able to prove it?\nTo speak, then, to the fact. Were the reproach upon me only in this\nparticular, I should not mention it. I should not think it a reproach to\nbe directed by a man to whom the queen had at that time entrusted the\nadministration of the government. But, as it is a reproach upon his\nlordship, justice requires that I do right in this case. The thing is\ntrue or false. I would recommend it to those who would be called honest\nmen, to consider but one thing, viz., what if it should not be true? Can\nthey justify the injury done to that person, or to any person concerned?\nIf it cannot be proved, if no vestiges appear to ground it upon, how can\nthey charge men upon rumours and reports, and join to run down men's\ncharacters by the stream of clamour?\n  _Sed quo rapit impetus und\u00e6._\nIn answer to the charge, I bear witness to posterity, that every part of\nit is false and forged. And I do solemnly protest, in the fear and\npresence of Him that shall judge us all, both the slanderers and the\nslandered, that I have not received any instructions, directions,\norders, or let them call it what they will, of that kind, for the\nwriting of any part of what I have written, or any materials for the\nputting together for the forming any book or pamphlet whatsoever, from\nthe said earl of Oxford, late lord treasurer, or from any person by his\norder or direction, since the time that the late earl of Godolphin was\nlord treasurer. Neither did I ever show, or cause to be shown to his\nlordship, for his approbation, correction, alteration, or for any other\ncause, any book, paper, or pamphlet which I have written and published,\nbefore the same was worked off at the press and published.\nIf any man living can detect me of the least prevarication in this, or\nin any part of it, I desire him to do it by all means; and I challenge\nall the world to do it. And if they cannot, then I appeal, as in my\ntitle, to the honour and justice of my worst enemies, to know upon what\nfoundation of truth or conscience they can affirm these things, and for\nwhat it is that I bear these reproaches.\nIn all my writing, I ever capitulated for my liberty to speak according\nto my own judgment of things; I ever had that liberty allowed me, nor\nwas I ever imposed upon to write this way or that against my judgment by\nany person whatsoever.\nI come now historically to the point of time when my lord Godolphin was\ndismissed from his employment, and the late unhappy division broke out\nat court. I waited on my lord the day he was displaced, and humbly asked\nhis lordship's direction what course I should take? His lordship's\nanswer was, \"that he had the same goodwill to assist me, but not the\nsame power; that I was the queen's servant, and that all he had done for\nme was by her majesty's special and particular direction; and that\nwhoever should succeed him, it was not material to me; he supposed I\nshould be employed in nothing relating to the present differences. My\nbusiness was to wait till I saw things settled, and then apply myself to\nthe ministers of state, to receive her majesty's commands from them.\"\nIt occurred to me immediately, as a principle for my conduct, that it\nwas not material to me what ministers her majesty was pleased to employ;\nmy duty was to go along with every ministry, so far as they did not\nbreak in upon the constitution, and the laws and liberties of my\ncountry; my part being only the duty of a subject, viz., to submit to\nall lawful commands, and to enter into no service which was not\njustifiable by the laws; to all which I have exactly obliged myself.\nBy this, I was providentially cast back upon my original benefactor,\nwho, according to his wonted goodness, was pleased to lay my case before\nher majesty; and thereby I preserved my interest in her majesty's\nfavour, but without any engagement of service.\nAs for consideration, pension, gratification, or reward, I declare to\nall the world I have had none, except only that old appointment which\nher majesty was pleased to make me in the days of the ministry of my\nlord Godolphin; of which I have spoken already, and which was for\nservices done in a foreign country some years before. Neither have I\nbeen employed, directed, or ordered by my lord treasurer aforesaid to\ndo, or not to do, anything in the affairs of the unhappy differences\nwhich have so long perplexed us, and for which I have so many, and such\nunjust reproaches.\nI come next to enter into the matters of fact, and what it is I have\ndone, or not done, which may justify the treatment I have met with; and\nfirst, for the negative part, what I have not done.\nThe first thing in the unhappy breaches which have fallen out, is the\nheaping up scandal upon the persons and conduct of men of honour on one\nside as well as the other; those unworthy methods of falling upon one\nanother by personal calumny and reproach. This I have often in print\ncomplained of as an unchristian, ungenerous, and unjustifiable practice.\nNot a word can be found in all I have written reflecting on the persons\nor conduct of any of the former ministry. I served her majesty under\ntheir administration; they acted honourably and justly in every\ntransaction in which I had the honour to be concerned with them, and I\nnever published or said anything dishonourable of any of them in my\nlife; nor can the worst enemy I have produce any such thing against me.\nI always regretted the change, and looked upon it as a great disaster to\nthe nation in general, I am sure it was so to me in particular; and the\ndivisions and feuds among parties which followed that change were\ndoubtless a disaster to us all.\nThe next thing that followed the change was the peace: no man can say\nthat ever I once said in my life that I approved of the peace. I wrote a\npublic paper at that time, and there it remains upon record against me.\nI printed it openly, and that so plainly as others durst not do, that I\ndid not like the peace; neither that which was made, nor that which was\nbefore making; that I thought the protestant interest was not taken care\nof in either; and that the peace I was for was such as should neither\nhave given the Spanish monarchy to the house of Bourbon nor to the house\nof Austria, but that this bone of contention should have been broken to\npieces, that it might not be dangerous to Europe; and that the\nprotestant powers, viz., Britain and the States, should have so\nstrengthened and fortified their interest by their sharing the commerce\nand strength of Spain, as should have made them no more afraid of France\nor the emperor: so that the protestant interest should have been\nsuperior to all the powers of Europe, and been in no more danger of\nexorbitant powers whether French or Austrian. This was the peace I\nalways argued for, pursuant to the design of king William in the Treaty\nof Partition, and pursuant to that article of the grand alliance which\nwas directed by the same glorious hand at the beginning of this last\nwar, viz., that all we should conquer in the Spanish West Indies should\nbe our own.\nThis was the true design, that England and Holland should have turned\ntheir naval power, which was eminently superior to that of France, to\nthe conquest of the Spanish West Indies, by which the channel of trade\nand return of bullion, which now enriches the enemies of both, had been\nours; and as the wealth, so the strength of the world had been in\nprotestant hands. Spain, whoever had it, must then have been dependent\nupon us. The house of Bourbon would have found it so poor without us, as\nto be scarce worth fighting for: and the people so averse to them, for\nwant of their commerce, as not to make it ever likely that France could\nkeep it.\nThis was the foundation I ever acted upon with relation to the peace. It\nis true, that when it was made, and could not be otherwise, I thought\nour business was to make the best of it, and rather to inquire what\nimprovements were to be made of it, than to be continually exclaiming at\nthose who made it; and where the objection lies against this part, I\ncannot yet see.\nWhile I spoke of things in this manner, I bore infinite reproaches from\nclamouring pens, of being in the French interest, being hired and bribed\nto defend a bad peace, and the like; and most of this was upon a\nsupposition of my writing, or being the author of, abundance of\npamphlets which came out every day, and which I had no hand in. And\nindeed, as I shall observe again by and by, this was one of the greatest\npieces of injustice that could be done me, and which I labour still\nunder without any redress; that whenever any piece comes out which is\nnot liked, I am immediately charged with being the author; and very\noften the first knowledge I have had of a book being published, has\nbeen from seeing myself abused for being the author of it, in some other\npamphlet published in answer to it.\nFinding myself treated in this manner, I declined writing at all, and\nfor a great part of a year never set pen to paper, except in the public\npaper called the Review. After this I was long absent in the north of\nEngland; and, observing the insolence of the jacobite party, and how\nthey insinuated fine things into the heads of the common people, of the\nright and claim of the pretender, and of the great things he would do\nfor us if he were to come in; of his being to turn a protestant, of his\nbeing resolved to maintain our liberties, support our friends, give\nliberty to dissenters, and the like; and finding that the people began\nto be deluded, and that the jacobites gained ground among them by these\ninsinuations, I thought it the best service I could do the protestant\ninterest, and the best way to open people's eyes of the protestant\nsuccession, if I took some course effectually to alarm the people with\nwhat they really ought to expect, if the pretender should come to be\nking. And this made me set pen to paper again.\nAnd this brings me to the affirmative part, or to what really I have\ndone; and in this, I am sorry to say, I have one of the foulest, most\nunjust, and unchristian clamours to complain of, that any man has\nsuffered, I believe, since the days of the tyranny of king James II. The\nfact is thus:--\nIn order to detect the influence of jacobite emissaries, as above, the\nfirst thing I wrote was a small tract, called A Seasonable Caution; a\nbook sincerely written to open the eyes of the poor, ignorant country\npeople, and to warn them against the subtle insinuations of the\nemissaries of the pretender; and that it might be effectual to that\npurpose, I prevailed with several of my friends to give them away among\nthe poor people, all over England, especially in the north; and several\nthousands were actually given away, the price being reduced so low, that\nthe bare expense of paper and press was only preserved, that every one\nmight be convinced that nothing of gain was designed, but a sincere\nendeavour to do a public good, and assist to keep the people entirely in\nthe interest of the protestant succession.\nNext to this, and with the same sincere design, I wrote two pamphlets,\none entituled, What if the Pretender should come? the other, Reasons\nagainst the Succession of the House of Hanover.\nNothing can be more plain than that the titles of these books were\namusements, in order to put the books into the hands of those people\nwhom the jacobites had deluded, and to bring them to be read by them.\nPrevious to what I shall further say of these books, I must observe that\nall these books met with so general a reception and approbation among\nthose who were most sincere for the protestant succession, that they\nsent them all over the kingdom, and recommended them to the people as\nexcellent and useful pieces; insomuch that about seven editions of them\nwere printed, and they were reprinted in other places. And I do protest,\nhad his present majesty, then elector of Hanover, given me a thousand\npounds to have written for the interest of his succession, and to expose\nand render the interest of the pretender odious and ridiculous, I could\nhave done nothing more effectual to those purposes than these books\nwere.\nAnd that I may make my worst enemies, to whom this is a fair appeal,\njudges of this, I must take leave, by and by, to repeat some of the\nexpressions in these books, which were direct and need no explanation,\nwhich I think no man that was in the interest of the pretender, nay,\nwhich no man but one who was entirely in the interest of the Hanover\nsuccession, could write.\nNothing can be severer in the fate of a man than to act so between two\nparties, that both sides should be provoked against him. It is certain,\nthe jacobites cursed those tracts and the author, and when they came to\nread them, being deluded by the titles according to the design, they\nthrew them by with the greatest indignation imaginable. Had the\npretender ever come to the throne, I could have expected nothing but\ndeath, and all the ignominy and reproach that the most inveterate enemy\nof his person and claim could be supposed to suffer.\nOn the other hand, I leave it to any considering man to judge, what a\nsurprise it must be to me to meet with all the public clamour that\ninformers could invent, as being guilty of writing against the Hanover\nsuccession, and as having written several pamphlets in favour of the\npretender.\nNo man in this nation ever had a more rivetted aversion to the\npretender, and to all the family he pretended to come of, than I; a man\nthat had been in arms under the duke of Monmouth, against the cruelty\nand arbitrary government of his pretended father; that for twenty years\nhad to my utmost opposed him (king James) and his party after his\nabdication; and had served king William to his satisfaction, and the\nfriends of the revolution after his death, at all hazards and upon all\noccasions; that had suffered and been ruined under the administration of\nhigh-fliers and jacobites, of whom some at this day counterfeit whigs.\nIt could not be! The nature of the thing could by no means allow it; it\nmust be monstrous; and that the wonder may cease, I shall take leave to\nquote some of the expressions out of these books, of which the worst\nenemy I have in the world is left to judge whether they are in favour of\nthe pretender or no; but of this in its place. For these books I was\nprosecuted, taken into custody, and obliged to give 800_l._ bail.\nI do not in the least object here against, or design to reflect upon,\nthe proceedings of the judges which were subsequent to this. I\nacknowledged then, and now acknowledge again, that upon the information\ngiven, there was a sufficient ground for all they did; and my unhappy\nentering upon my own vindication in print, while the case was before\ntheir lordships in a judicial way, was an error which I did not\nunderstand, and which I did not foresee; and therefore, although I had\ngreat reason to reflect upon the informers, yet I was wrong in making\nthat defence in the manner and time I then made it; and which when I\nfound, I made no scruple afterwards to petition the judges, and\nacknowledge they had just ground to resent it. Upon which petition and\nacknowledgment their lordships were pleased, with particular marks of\ngoodness, to release me, and not to take the advantage of an error of\nignorance, as if it had been considered and premeditated.\nBut against the informers I think I have great reason to complain; and\nagainst the injustice of those writers who, in many pamphlets, charged\nme with writing for the pretender, and the government with pardoning an\nauthor who wrote for the pretender. And, indeed, the justice of these\nmen can be in nothing more clearly stated than in this case of mine;\nwhere the charge, in their printed papers and public discourse, was\nbrought; not that they themselves believed me guilty of the crime, but\nbecause it was necessary to blacken the man, that a general reproach\nmight serve for an answer to whatever he should say that was not for\ntheir turn. So that it was the person, not the crime, they fell upon;\nand they may justly be said to persecute for the sake of persecution, as\nwill thus appear.\nThis matter making some noise, people began to inquire into it, and ask\nwhat De Foe was prosecuted for, seeing the books were manifestly written\nagainst the pretender, and for the interest of the house of Hanover. And\nmy friends expostulated freely with some of the men who appeared in it,\nwho answered with more truth than honesty, that they knew this book had\nnothing in it, and that it was meant another way; but that De Foe had\ndisobliged them in other things, and they were resolved to take the\nadvantage they had, both to punish and expose him. They were no\ninconsiderable people who said this; and had the case come to a trial, I\nhad provided good evidence to prove the words.\nThis is the christianity and justice by which I have been treated, and\nthis in justice is the thing I complain of.\nNow, as this was the plot of a few men to see if they could brand me in\nthe world for a jacobite, and persuade rash and ignorant people that I\nwas turned about for the pretender, I think they might as easily have\nproved me to be a mahometan; therefore, I say, this obliges me to state\nthe matter as it really stands, that impartial men may judge whether\nthose books were written for or against the pretender. And this cannot\nbe better done than by the account of what followed after the\ninformation, which, in a few words, was this:--\nUpon the several days appointed, I appeared at the Queen's Bench bar to\ndischarge my bail; and at last had an indictment for high crimes and\nmisdemeanors exhibited against me by her majesty's attorney-general,\nwhich, as I was informed, contained two hundred sheets of paper.\nWhat was the substance of the indictment I shall not mention here,\nneither could I enter upon it, having never seen the particulars; but I\nwas told that I should be brought to trial the very next term.\nI was not ignorant that in such cases it is easy to make any book a\nlibel, and that the jury must have found the matter of fact in the\nindictment, viz., that I had written such books, and then what might\nhave followed I knew not. Wherefore, I thought it was my only way to\ncast myself on the clemency of her majesty, of whose goodness I had so\nmuch experience many ways; representing in my petition, that I was far\nfrom the least intention to favour the interest of the pretender, but\nthat the books were all written with a sincere design to promote the\ninterest of the house of Hanover; and humbly laid before her majesty, as\nI do now before the rest of the world, the books themselves to plead in\nmy behalf; representing further, that I was maliciously informed against\nby those who were willing to put a construction upon the expressions\ndifferent from my true meaning; and therefore, flying to her majesty's\ngoodness and clemency, I entreated her gracious pardon.\nIt was not only the native disposition of her majesty to acts of\nclemency and goodness that obtained me this pardon; but, as I was\ninformed, her majesty was pleased to express it in the council, \"She saw\nnothing but private pique in the first prosecution.\" And therefore I\nthink I cannot give a better and clearer vindication of myself; than\nwhat is contained in the preamble to the pardon which her majesty was\npleased to grant me; and I must be allowed to say to those who are still\nwilling to object, that I think what satisfied her majesty might be\nsufficient to satisfy them; and I can assure them that this pardon was\nnot granted without her majesty's being specially and particularly\nacquainted with the things alleged in the petition, the books also being\nlooked into, to find the expressions quoted in the petition. The\npreamble to the patent for a pardon, as far as relates to the matters of\nfact, runs thus:--\n     \"Whereas, in the term of the Holy Trinity last past, our\n     attorney-general did exhibit an information, in our court of\n     Queen's Bench at Westminster, against Daniel De Foe, late of\n     London, gent., for writing, printing, and publishing, and causing\n     to be written, printed, and published, three libels, the one\n     entituled, Reasons against the Succession of the House of Hanover;\n     with an Inquiry how far the Abdication of King James, supposing it\n     to be legal, ought to affect the person of the Pretender. One\n     other, entituled, And what if the Pretender should come? or, Some\n     Considerations of the Advantages and real Consequences of the\n     Pretender's possessing the Crown of Great Britain. And one other,\n     entituled, An Answer to a Question that nobody thinks of, viz.,\n     What if the Queen should die?\n     \"And whereas the said Daniel De Foe hath by his humble petition\n     represented to us, that he, with a sincere design to propagate the\n     interest of the Hanover succession, and to animate the people\n     against the designs of the pretender, whom he always looked on as\n     an enemy to our sacred person and government, did publish the said\n     pamphlets: in all which books, although the titles seemed to look\n     as if written in favour of the pretender, and several expressions,\n     as in all ironical writing it must be, may be wrested against the\n     true design of the whole, and turned to a meaning quite different\n     from the intention of the author, yet the petitioner humbly\n     assures us, in the solemnest manner, that his true and only design\n     in all the said books was, by an ironical discourse of recommending\n     the pretender, in the strongest and most forcible manner to expose\n     his designs, and the ruinous consequences of his succeeding\n     therein; which, as the petitioner humbly represents, will appear to\n     our satisfaction by the books themselves, where the following\n     expressions are very plain: viz:, 'That the pretender is\n     recommended as a person proper to amass the English liberties into\n     his own sovereignty; supply them with the privilege of wearing\n     wooden shoes; easing them of the trouble of choosing parliaments;\n     and the nobility and gentry of the hazard and expense of winter\n     journeys, by governing them in that more righteous method, of his\n     absolute will, and enforcing the laws by a glorious standing army;\n     paying all the nation's debts at once by stopping the funds and\n     shutting up the exchequer; easing and quieting their differences in\n     religion, by bringing them to the union of popery, or leaving them\n     at liberty to have no religion at all:' that these were some of the\n     very expressions in the said books, which the petitioner sincerely\n     designed to expose and oppose, and as far as in him lies, the\n     interest of the pretender, and with no other intention;\n     nevertheless, the petitioner, to his great surprise, has been\n     misrepresented, and his said books misconstrued, as if written in\n     favour of the pretender; and the petitioner is now under\n     prosecution for the same; which prosecution, if further carried on,\n     will be the utter ruin of the petitioner and his family. Wherefore,\n     the petitioner, humbly assuring us of the innocence of his design\n     as aforesaid, flies to our clemency, and most humbly prays our most\n     gracious and free pardon.\n     \"We, taking the premises and the circumstances of the petitioner\n     into our royal consideration, are graciously pleased to extend our\n     royal mercy to the petitioner. Our will and pleasure therefore is,\n     that you prepare a bill for our royal signature, to pass our great\n     seal, containing our gracious and free pardon unto him, the said\n     Daniel De Foe, of the offences aforementioned, and of all\n     indictments, convictions, pains, penalties, and forfeitures\n     incurred thereby; and you are to insert therein all such apt\n     beneficial clauses as you shall deem requisite to make this our\n     intended pardon more full, valid, and effectual; and for so doing,\n     this shall be your warrant. Given at our castle at Windsor, the\n     twentieth day of November, 1713, in the twentieth year of our\n     reign. By her majesty's command.\nLet any indifferent man judge whether I was not treated with particular\nmalice in this matter; who was, notwithstanding this, reproached in the\ndaily public prints with having written treasonable books in behalf of\nthe pretender; nay, and in some of those books, as before, the queen\nherself was reproached with having granted her pardon to an author who\nwrit for the pretender.\nI think I might with much more justice say, I was the first man that\never was obliged to seek a pardon for writing for the Hanover\nsuccession, and the first man that these people ever sought to ruin for\nwriting against the pretender. For, if ever a book was sincerely\ndesigned to further and propagate the affection and zeal of the nation\nagainst the pretender, nay, and was made use of, and that with success\ntoo, for that purpose, these books were so; and I ask no more favour of\nthe world to determine the opinion of honest men for or against me, than\nwhat is drawn constructively from these books. Let one word, either\nwritten or spoken by me, either published or not published, be produced,\nthat was in the least disrespectful to the protestant succession, or to\nany branch of the family of Hanover, or that can be judged to be\nfavourable to the interest or person of the pretender, and I will be\nwilling to waive her majesty's pardon, and render myself to public\njustice, to be punished for it, as I should well deserve.\nI freely and openly challenge the worst of my enemies to charge me with\nany discourse, conversation, or behaviour, in my whole life, which had\nthe least word in it injurious to the protestant succession, unbecoming\nor disrespectful to any of the persons of the royal family of Hanover,\nor the least favourable word of the persons, the designs, or friends of\nthe pretender. If they can do it, let them stand forth and speak; no\ndoubt but that they may be heard; and I, for my part, will relinquish\nall pleas, pardons, and defences, and cast myself into the hands of\njustice. Nay, to go further, I defy them to prove that I ever kept\ncompany, or had any society, friendship, or conversation, with any\njacobite. So averse have I been to the interest and the people, that I\nhave studiously avoided their company on all occasions.\nAs nothing in the world has been more my aversion than the society of\njacobites, so nothing can be a greater misfortune to me than to be\naccused and publicly reproached with what is, of all things in the\nworld, most abhorred by me; and that which has made it the more\nafflicting is, that this charge arises from those very things which I\ndid with the sincerest design to manifest the contrary.\nBut such is my present fate, and I am to submit to it; which I do with\nmeekness and calmness, as to a judgment from heaven, and am practising\nthat duty which I have studied long ago, of forgiving my enemies, and\npraying for them that despitefully use me.\nHaving given this brief history of the pardon, &c., I hope the impartial\npart of the world will grant me, that being thus graciously delivered a\nsecond time from the cruelty of my implacable enemies, and the ruin of a\ncruel and unjust persecution, and that by the mere clemency and\ngoodness, my obligation to her majesty's goodness was far from being\nmade less than it was before.\nI have now run through the history of my obligation to her majesty, and\nto the person of my benefactor aforesaid. I shall state everything that\nfollowed this with all the clearness I can, and leave myself liable to\nas little cavil as I may; for I see myself assaulted by a sort of people\nwho will do me no justice. I hear a great noise made of punishing those\nthat are guilty, but, as I said before, not one word of clearing those\nthat are innocent; and I must say, in this part they treat me, not only\nas I were no Christian, but as if they themselves were not Christians.\nThey will neither prove the charge nor hear the defence, which is the\nunjustest thing in the world.\nI foresee what will be alleged to the clause of my obligation, &c., to\ngreat persons, and I resolve to give my adversaries all the advantage\nthey can desire by acknowledging beforehand, that no obligation to the\nqueen, or to any benefactor, can justify any man's acting against the\ninterest of his country, against his principles, his conscience, and his\nformer profession.\nI think this will anticipate all that can be said upon that head, and it\nwill then remain to tell the fact, as I am not chargeable with it; which\nI shall do as clearly as possible in a few words.\nIt is none of my work to enter into the conduct of the queen or of the\nministry in this case; the question is not what they have done, but what\nI have done; and though I am very far from thinking of them as some\nother people think, yet, for the sake of the present argument, I am to\ngive them all up, and suppose, though not granting, that all which is\nsuggested of them by the worst temper, the most censorious writer, the\nmost scandalous pamphlet or lampoon should be true; and I'll go through\nsome of the particulars, as I meet with them in public.\n1st. That they made a scandalous peace, unjustly broke the alliance,\nbetrayed the confederates, and sold us all to the French.\nGod forbid it should be all truth, in the manner that we see it in\nprint; but that I say is none of my business. But what hand had I in all\nthis? I never wrote one word for the peace before it was made, or to\njustify it after it was made; let them produce it if they can. Nay, in a\nReview upon that subject while it was making, I printed it in plainer\nwords than other men durst speak it at that time, that I did not like\nthe peace, nor did I like any peace that was making since that of the\npartition, and that the protestant interest was not taken care of either\nin that or the treaty of Gertrudenburgh before it.\nIt is true that I did say, that since the peace was made, and we could\nnot help it, that it was our business and our duty to make the best of\nit, to make the utmost advantage of it by commerce, navigation, and all\nkind of improvement that we could, and this I say still; and I must\nthink it is more our duty to do so than the exclamations against the\nthing itself, which it is not in our power to retrieve. This is all that\nthe worst enemy I have can charge me with. After the peace was made, and\nthe Dutch and the emperor stood out, I gave my opinion of what I\nforesaw would necessarily be the consequence of that difference, viz.,\nthat it would inevitably involve these nations in a war with one or\nother of them; any one who was master of common sense in the public\naffairs might see that the standing out of the Dutch could have no other\nevent. For if the confederates had conquered the French, they would\ncertainly have fallen upon us by way of resentment, and there was no\ndoubt but the same councils that led us to make a peace would oblige us\nto maintain it, by preventing too great impressions upon the French.\nOn the other hand, I alleged, that should the French prevail against the\nDutch, unless he stopped at such limitations of conquest as the treaty\nobliged him to do, we must have been under the same necessity to renew\nthe war against France; and for this reason, seeing we had made a peace,\nwe were obliged to bring the rest of the confederates into it, and to\nbring the French to give them all such terms as they ought to be\nsatisfied with.\nThis way of arguing was either so little understood, or so much\nmaligned, that I suffered innumerable reproaches in print for having\nwritten for a war with the Dutch, which was neither in the expression,\nnor ever in my imagination; but I pass by these injuries as small and\ntrifling compared to others I suffer under.\nHowever, one thing I must say of the peace, let it be good or ill in\nitself, I cannot but think we have all reason to rejoice in behalf of\nhis present majesty, that at his accession to the crown he found the\nnation in peace, and had the hands of the king of France tied up by a\npeace so as not to be able, without the most infamous breach of\narticles, to offer the least disturbance to his taking a quiet and\nleisurely possession, or so much as to countenance those that would.\nNot but that I believe, if the war had been at the height, we should\nhave been able to have preserved the crown for his present majesty, its\nonly rightful lord; but I will not say it should have been so easy, so\nbloodless, so undisputed as now; and all the difference must be\nacknowledged to the peace, and this is all the good I ever yet said of\nit.\nI come next to the general clamour of the ministry being for the\npretender. I must speak my sentiments solemnly and plainly, as I always\ndid in that matter, viz., that if it was so, I did not see it, nor did I\never see reason to believe it; this I am sure of, that if it was so, I\nnever took one step in that kind of service, nor did I ever hear one\nword spoken by any one of the ministry that I had the honour to know or\nconverse with, that favoured the pretender; but have had the honour to\nhear them all protest that there was no design to oppose the succession\nof Hanover in the least.\nIt may be objected to me, that they might be in the interest of the\npretender for all that; it is true they might, but that is nothing to\nme. I am not vindicating their conduct, but my own; as I never was\nemployed in anything that way, so I do still protest I do not believe it\nwas ever in their design, and I have many reasons to confirm my thoughts\nin that case, which are not material to the present case. But be that as\nit will, it is enough to me that I acted nothing in any such interest,\nneither did I ever sin against the protestant succession of Hanover in\nthought, word, or deed; and if the ministry did, I did not see it, or so\nmuch as suspect them of it.\nIt was a disaster to the ministry, to be driven to the necessity of\ntaking that set of men by the hand, who nobody can deny, were in that\ninterest; but as the former ministry answered, when they were charged\nwith a design to overthrow the church, because they favoured, joined\nwith, and were united to the dissenters; I say they answered, that they\nmade use of the dissenters, but granted them nothing (which, by the way,\nwas too true;) so these gentlemen answer, that it is true they made use\nof jacobites, but did nothing for them.\nBut this by the by. Necessity is pleaded by both parties for doing\nthings which neither side can justify. I wish both sides would for ever\navoid the necessity of doing evil; for certainly it is the worst plea in\nthe world, and generally made use of for the worst things.\nI have often lamented the disaster which I saw employing jacobites was\nto the late ministry, and certainly it gave the greatest handle to the\nenemies of the ministry to fix that universal reproach upon them of\nbeing in the interest of the pretender. But there was no medium. The\nwhigs refused to show them a safe retreat, or to give them the least\nopportunity to take any other measures, but at the risk of their own\ndestruction; and they ventured upon that course in hopes of being able\nto stand alone at last without help of either the one or the other; in\nwhich they were no doubt, mistaken.\nHowever, in this part, as I was always assured, and have good reason\nstill to believe, that her majesty was steady in the interest of the\nhouse of Hanover, and as nothing was ever offered to me, or required of\nme, to the prejudice of that interest, on what ground can I be\nreproached with the secret reserved designs of any, if they had such\ndesigns, as I still verily believe they had not?\nI see there are some men who would fain persuade the world, that every\nman that was in the interest of the late ministry, or employed by the\nlate government, or that served the late queen, was for the pretender.\nGod forbid this should be true; and I think there needs very little to\nbe said in answer to it. I can answer for myself, that it is notoriously\nfalse; and I think the easy and uninterrupted accession of his majesty\nto the crown contradicts it. I see no end which such a suggestion aims\nat, but to leave an odium upon all that had any duty or regard to her\nlate majesty.\nA subject is not always master of his sovereign's measures, nor always\nto examine what persons or parties the prince he serves employs, so be\nit that they break not in upon the constitution; that they govern\naccording to law, and that he is employed in no illegal act, or have\nnothing desired of him inconsistent with the liberties and laws of his\ncountry. If this be not right, then a servant of the king's is in a\nworse case than a servant to any private person.\nIn all these things I have not erred; neither have I acted or done\nanything in the whole course of my life, either in the service of her\nmajesty or of her ministry, that any one can say has the least deviation\nfrom the strictest regard to the protestant succession, and to the laws\nand liberties of my country.\nI never saw an arbitrary action offered at, a law dispensed with,\njustice denied, or oppression set up, either by queen or ministry, in\nany branch of the administration, wherein I had the least concern.\nIf I have sinned against the whigs, it has been all negatively, viz.,\nthat I have not joined in the loud exclamations against the queen and\nagainst the ministry, and against their measures; and if this be my\ncrime, my plea is twofold.\n1. I did not really see cause for carrying their complaints to that\nviolent degree.\n2. Where I did see what, as before, I lamented and was sorry for, and\ncould not join with or approve,--as joining with jacobites, the peace,\n&c.,--my obligation is my plea for my silence.\nI have all the good thoughts of the person, and good wishes for the\nprosperity of my benefactor, that charity and that gratitude can inspire\nme with. I ever believed him to have the true interest of the protestant\nreligion and of his country in his view; and if it should be otherwise,\nI should be very sorry. And I must repeat it again, that he always left\nme so entirely to my own judgment, in everything I did, that he never\nprescribed to me what I should write, or should not write, in my life;\nneither did he ever concern himself to dictate to or restrain me in any\nkind; nor did he see any one tract that I ever wrote before it was\nprinted; so that all the notion of my writing by his direction is as\nmuch a slander upon him as it is possible anything of that kind can be;\nand if I have written anything which is offensive, unjust, or untrue, I\nmust do that justice as to declare, he has no hand in it; the crime is\nmy own.\nAs the reproach of his directing me to write is a slander upon the\nperson I am speaking of, so that of my receiving pensions and payments\nfrom him for writing, is a slander upon me; and I speak it with the\ngreatest sincerity, seriousness, and solemnity that it is possible for a\nChristian man to speak, that except the appointment I mentioned before,\nwhich her majesty was pleased to make me formerly, and which I received\nduring the time of my lord Godolphin's ministry, I have not received of\nthe late lord treasurer, or of any one else by his order, knowledge, or\ndirection, one farthing, or the value of a farthing, during his whole\nadministration; nor has all the interest I have been supposed to have in\nhis lordship been able to procure me the arrears due to me in the time\nof the other ministry. So help me God.\nI am under no necessity of making this declaration. The services I did,\nand for which her majesty was pleased to make me a small allowance, are\nknown to the greatest men in the present administration; and some of\nthem were then of the opinion, and I hope are so still, that I was not\nunworthy of her majesty's favour. The effect of those services, however\nsmall, is enjoyed by those great persons and by the whole nation to this\nday; and I had the honour once to be told, that they should never be\nforgotten. It is a misfortune that no man can avoid, to forfeit for his\ndeference to the person and services of his queen, to whom he was\ninexpressibly obliged; and if I am fallen under the displeasure of the\npresent government for anything I ever did in obedience to her majesty\nin the past, I may say it is my disaster; but I can never say it is my\nfault.\nThis brings me again to that other oppression which, as I said, I suffer\nunder, and which, I think, is of a kind that no man ever suffered under\nso much as myself; and this is to have every libel, every pamphlet, be\nit ever so foolish, so malicious, so unmannerly, or so dangerous, be\nlaid at my door, and be called publicly by my name. It has been in vain\nfor me to struggle with this injury; it has been in vain for me to\nprotest, to declare solemnly, nay, if I would have sworn that I had no\nhand in such a book or paper, never saw it, never read it, and the like,\nit was the same thing.\nMy name has been hackneyed about the street by the hawkers, and about\nthe coffeehouses by the politicians, at such a rate as no patience could\nbear. One man will swear to the style; another to this or that\nexpression; another to the way of printing; and all so positive that it\nis to no purpose to oppose it.\nI published once, to stop this way of using me, that I would print\nnothing but what I set my name to, and held it for a year or two; but it\nwas all one; I had the same treatment. I now have resolved for some time\nto write nothing at all, and yet I find it the same thing; two books\nlately published being called mine, for no other reason that I know of\nthan that at the request of the printer, I revised two sheets of them at\nthe press, and that they seemed to be written in favour of a certain\nperson; which person, also, as I have been assured, had no hand in them,\nor any knowledge of them, till they were published in print.\nThis is a flail which I have no fence against, but to complain of the\ninjustice of it, and that is but _the shortest way_ to be treated with\nmore injustice.\nThere is a mighty charge against me for being author and publisher of a\npaper called the 'Mercator.' I will state the fact first, and then speak\nto the subject.\nIt is true, that being desired to give my opinion in the affair of the\ncommerce with France, I did, as I often had done in print many years\nbefore, declare that it was my opinion we ought to have an open trade\nwith France, because I did believe we might have the advantage by such a\ntrade; and of this opinion I am still. What part I had in the Mercator\nis well known; and could men answer with argument, and not with personal\nabuse, I would at any time defend every part of the Mercator which was\nof my doing. But to say the Mercator was mine, is false; I neither was\nthe author of it, had the property of it, the printing of it, or the\nprofit by it. I had never any payment or reward for writing any part of\nit, nor had I the power to put what I would into it. Yet the whole\nclamour fell upon me, because they knew not who else to load with it.\nAnd when they came to answer, the method was instead of argument, to\nthreaten and reflect upon me, reproach me with private circumstances and\nmisfortunes, and give language which no Christian ought to give, and\nwhich no gentleman ought to take.\nI thought any Englishman had the liberty to speak his opinion in such\nthings, for this had nothing to do with the public. The press was open\nto me as well as to others; and how or when I lost my English liberty of\nspeaking my mind, I know not; neither how my speaking my opinion without\nfee or reward, could authorise them to call me villain, rascal, traitor,\nand such opprobrious names.\nIt was ever my opinion, and is so still, that were our wool kept from\nFrance, and our manufactures spread in France upon reasonable duties,\nall the improvements which the French have made in the woollen\nmanufactures would decay, and in the end be little worth; and\nconsequently, the hurt they could do us by them would be of little\nmoment.\nIt was my opinion, and is so still, that the ninth article of the treaty\nof commerce was calculated for the advantage of our trade, let who will\nmake it. That is nothing to me. My reasons are because it tied up the\nFrench to open the door to our manufactures at a certain duty of\nimportation there, and left the parliament of Britain at liberty to shut\ntheirs out by as high duties as they pleased here, there being no\nlimitation upon us as to duties on French goods; but that other nations\nshould pay the same.\nWhile the French were thus bound, and the British free, I always thought\nwe must be in a condition to trade to advantage, or it must be our own\nfault. This was my opinion, and is so still; and I would venture to\nmaintain it against any man upon a public stage, before a jury of fifty\nmerchants, and venture my life upon the cause, if I were assured of fair\nplay in the dispute. But that it was my opinion that we might carry on a\ntrade with France to our great advantage, and that we ought for that\nreason to trade with them, appears in the third, fourth, fifth, and\nsixth volumes of the Review, above nine years before the Mercator was\nthought of. It was not thought criminal to say so then; how it come to\nbe villanous to say so now, God knows; I can give no account of it. I am\nstill of the same opinion, and shall never be brought to say otherwise,\nunless I see the state of trade so altered as to alter my opinion; and\nif ever I do I shall be able to give good reasons for it.\nThe answer to these things, whether mine or no, was all pointed at me,\nand the arguments were generally in the terms villain, rascal,\nmiscreant, liar, bankrupt, fellow, hireling, turncoat, &c. What the\narguments were bettered by these methods, I leave others to judge of.\nAlso, most of those things in the Mercator, for which I had such usage,\nwere such as I was not the author of.\nI do grant, had all the books which had been called by my name been\nwritten by me, I must of necessity have exasperated every side; and\nperhaps have deserved it; but I have the greatest injustice imaginable\nin this treatment, as I have in the perverting the design of what I have\nreally written.\nTo sum up, therefore, my complaint in a few words:--\nI was, from my first entering into the knowledge of public matters, and\nhave ever been to this day, a sincere lover of the constitution of my\ncountry; zealous for liberty and the protestant interest; but a\nconstant follower of moderate principles, a vigorous opposer of hot\nmeasures in all parties. I never once changed my opinion, my principles,\nor my party: and let what will be said of changing sides, this I\nmaintain, that I never once deviated from the revolution principles, nor\nfrom the doctrine of liberty and property on which it was founded.\nI own I could never be convinced of the great danger of the pretender in\nthe time of the late ministry, nor can I be now convinced of the great\ndanger of the church under this ministry. I believe the cry of the one\nwas politically made use of then to serve other designs, and I plainly\nsee the like use made of the other now. I spoke my mind freely then, and\nI have done the like now, in a small tract to that purpose not yet made\npublic; and which if I live to publish I will publicly own, as I purpose\nto do everything I write, that my friends may know when I am abused, and\nthey imposed on.\nIt has been the disaster of all parties in this nation to be very hot in\ntheir turn; and as often as they have been so I have differed with them,\nand ever must and shall do so. I will repeat some of the occasions on\nthe whigs' side, because from that quarter the accusation of my turning\nabout comes.\nThe first time I had the misfortune to differ with my friends was about\nthe year 1683, when the Turks were besieging Vienna, and the whigs in\nEngland, generally speaking, were for the Turks taking it, which I,\nhaving read the history of the cruelty and perfidious dealings of the\nTurks in their wars, and how they had rooted out the name of the\nChristian religion in above threescore and ten kingdoms, could by no\nmeans agree with. And though then but a young man, and a younger\nauthor, I opposed it, and wrote against it, which was taken very\nunkindly indeed.\nThe next time I differed with my friends was when king James was\nwheedling the dissenters to take off the penal laws and test, which I\ncould by no means come into. And, as in the first, I used to say, I had\nrather the popish house of Austria should ruin the protestants in\nHungaria, than the infidel house of Ottoman should ruin both protestants\nand papists by overrunning Germany; so, in the other, I told the\ndissenters I had rather the church of England should pull our clothes\noff by fines and forfeitures, than the papists should fall both upon the\nchurch and the dissenters, and pull our skins off by fire and fagot.\nThe next difference I had with good men was about the scandalous\npractice of occasional conformity, in which I had the misfortune to make\nmany honest men angry, rather because I had the better of the argument,\nthan because they disliked what I said.\nAnd now I have lived to see the dissenters themselves very quiet, if not\nvery well pleased with an act of parliament to prevent it. Their friends\nindeed laid it on; they would be friends indeed if they would talk of\ntaking it off again.\nAgain, I had a breach with honest men for their maltreating king\nWilliam; of which I say nothing, because I think they are now opening\ntheir eyes, and making what amends they can to his memory.\nThe fifth difference I had with them was about the treaty of Partition,\nin which many honest men are mistaken, and in which I told them plainly\nthen that they would at last end the war upon worse terms; and so it is\nmy opinion they would have done, though, the treaty of Gertrudenburgh\nhad taken place.\nThe sixth time I differed with them was when the old whigs fell upon the\nmodern whigs, and when the duke of Marlborough and my lord Godolphin\nwere used by the Observator in a manner worse, I must confess, for the\ntime it lasted, than ever they were used since; nay, though it were by\nAbel and the Examiner; but the success failed. In this dispute my lord\nGodolphin did me the honour to tell me, I had served him and his grace\nalso both faithfully and successfully. But his lordship is dead, and I\nhave now no testimony of it but what is to be found in the Observator,\nwhere I am plentifully abused for being an enemy to my country, by\nacting in the interest of my lord Godolphin and the duke of Marlborough.\nWhat weathercock can turn with such tempers as these!\nI am now on the seventh breach with them, and my crime now is, that I\nwill not believe and say the same things of the queen and the late\ntreasurer which I could not believe before of my lord Godolphin and the\nduke of Marlborough, and which in truth I cannot believe, and therefore\ncould not say it of either of them; and which, if I had believed, yet I\nought not to have been the man that should have said it for the reasons\naforesaid.\nIn such turns of tempers and times, a man must be tenfold a vicar of\nBray, or it is impossible but he must one time or other be out with\neverybody. This is my present condition, and for this I am reviled with\nhaving abandoned my principles, turned jacobite, and what not. God judge\nbetween me and these men. Would they come to any particulars with me,\nwhat real guilt I may have I would freely acknowledge; and if they would\nproduce any evidence of the bribes, the pensions, and the rewards I\nhave taken, I would declare honestly whether they were true or no. If\nthey would give a list of the books which they charge me with, and the\nreasons why they lay them at my door, I would acknowledge my mistake,\nown what I have done, and let them know what I have not done. But these\nmen neither show mercy, nor leave place for repentance; in which they\nact not only unlike their master, but contrary to his express commands.\nIt is true, good men have been used thus in former times; and all the\ncomfort I have is, that these men have not the last judgment in their\nhands: if they had, dreadful would be the case of those who oppose them.\nBut that day will show many men and things also in a different state\nfrom what they may now appear in. Some that now appear clear and fair\nwill then be seen to be black and foul, and some that are now thought\nblack and foul will then be approved and accepted; and thither I\ncheerfully appeal, concluding this part in the words of the prophet, _I\nheard the defaming of many; fear on every side; report, say they, and we\nwill report it; all my familiars watched for my halting, saying,\nperadventure he will be enticed, and we shall prevail against him, and\nwe shall take our revenge on him_. Jer. xx. 10.\nMr. Poole's Annotations has the following remarks on these lines; which,\nI think, are so much to that part of my case which is to follow, that I\ndo not omit them. The words are these:--\n\"The prophet,\" says he, \"here rendereth a reason why he thought of\ngiving over his work as a prophet; his ears were continually filled with\nthe obloquies and reproaches of such as reproached him; and besides, he\nwas afraid on all hands, there were so many traps laid for him, so many\ndevices devised against him. They did not only take advantage against\nhim, but sought advantages, and invited others to raise stories of him;\nnot only strangers, but those that he might have expected the greatest\nkindness from; those that pretended most courteously; 'They watch,' says\nhe, 'for opportunities to do me justice, and lay in wait for my halting,\ndesiring nothing more than that I might be enticed to speak, or do\nsomething which they might find matter of a colourable accusation, that\nso they might satisfy their malice upon me.' This hath always been the\ngenius of wicked men. Job and David both made complaints much like\nthis.\" These are Mr. Poole's words.\nAnd this leads me to several particulars, in which my case may, without\nany arrogance, be likened to that of the sacred prophet, excepting the\nvast disparity of the persons.\nNo sooner was the queen dead, and the king, as right required,\nproclaimed, but the rage of men increased upon me to that degree, that\nthe threats and insults I received were such as I am not able to\nexpress. If I offered to say a word in favour of the present settlement,\nit was called fawning, and turning round again; on the other hand,\nthough I have meddled neither one way nor the other, nor written one\nbook since the queen's death, yet a great many things are called by my\nname, and I bear every day the reproaches which all the answerers of\nthose books cast, as well upon the subjects as the authors. I have not\nseen or spoken to my lord of Oxford but once since the king's landing,\nnor received the least message, order, or writing from his lordship, or\nany other way corresponded with him, yet he bears the reproach of my\nwriting in his defence, and I the rage of men for doing it. I cannot\nsay it is no affliction to me to be thus used, though my being entirely\nclear of the facts is a true support to me.\nI am unconcerned at the rage and clamour of party men; but I cannot be\nunconcerned to hear men, who I think are good men and good Christians,\nprepossessed and mistaken about me. However, I cannot doubt but some\ntime or other it will please God to open such men's eyes. A constant,\nsteady adhering to personal virtue and to public peace, which, I thank\nGod, I can appeal to him has always been my practice, will at last\nrestore me to the opinion of sober and impartial men, and that is all I\ndesire. What it will do with those who are resolutely partial and\nunjust, I cannot say, neither is that much my concern. But I cannot\nforbear giving one example of the hard treatment I receive, which has\nhappened even while I am writing this tract. I have six children; I have\neducated them as well as my circumstances will permit, and so as I hope\nshall recommend them to better usage than their father meets with in\nthis world.\nI am not indebted one shilling in the world for any part of their\neducation, or for anything else belonging to their bringing up; yet the\nauthor of the Flying Post published lately that I never paid for the\neducation of any of my children. If any man in Britain has a shilling to\ndemand of me for any part of their education, or anything belonging to\nthem, let them come for it.\nBut these men care not what injurious things they write, nor what they\nsay, whether truth or not, if it may but raise a reproach on me, though\nit were to be my ruin. I may well appeal to the honour and justice of my\nworst enemies in such cases as this:\n  _Conscia mens recti fama mendacia ridet._\nCONCLUSION BY THE PUBLISHER.\nWHILE this was at the press, and the copy thus far finished, the author\nwas seized with a violent fit of an apoplexy, whereby he was disabled\nfinishing what he designed in his further defence; and continuing now\nfor above six weeks in a weak and languishing condition, neither able to\ngo on nor likely to recover, at least in any short time, his friends\nthought it not fit to delay the publication of this any longer. If he\nrecovers he may be able to finish what he began; if not, it is the\nopinion of most that know him that the treatment which he here complains\nof, and some others that he would have spoken of, have been the apparent\ncause of his disaster.\n[Transcriber's Notes:\nThe transcriber made these changes to the text to correct obvious\nerrors:\n  1. p. 10, Jacobities --> Jacobites\n  2. p. 12, lordtreasurer --> lord treasurer\n  3. p. 20, an as unchristian --> as an unchristian\n  4. p. 37, withont --> without\nEnd of Transcriber's Notes]", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  An Appeal to Honour and Justice, Though It Be of His Worst Enemies\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "cover\nThe Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders, &c.\nWho was Born in Newgate, and during a Life of continu\u2019d Variety for\nThreescore Years, besides her Childhood, was Twelve Year a Whore, five\ntimes a Wife (whereof once to her own Brother), Twelve Year a Thief,\nEight Year a Transported Felon in Virginia, at last grew Rich, liv\u2019d\nHonest, and dies a Penitent. Written from her own Memorandums . . .\nby Daniel Defoe\nTHE AUTHOR\u2019S PREFACE\nThe world is so taken up of late with novels and romances, that it will\nbe hard for a private history to be taken for genuine, where the names\nand other circumstances of the person are concealed, and on this\naccount we must be content to leave the reader to pass his own opinion\nupon the ensuing sheet, and take it just as he pleases.\nThe author is here supposed to be writing her own history, and in the\nvery beginning of her account she gives the reasons why she thinks fit\nto conceal her true name, after which there is no occasion to say any\nmore about that.\nIt is true that the original of this story is put into new words, and\nthe style of the famous lady we here speak of is a little altered;\nparticularly she is made to tell her own tale in modester words that\nshe told it at first, the copy which came first to hand having been\nwritten in language more like one still in Newgate than one grown\npenitent and humble, as she afterwards pretends to be.\nThe pen employed in finishing her story, and making it what you now see\nit to be, has had no little difficulty to put it into a dress fit to be\nseen, and to make it speak language fit to be read. When a woman\ndebauched from her youth, nay, even being the offspring of debauchery\nand vice, comes to give an account of all her vicious practices, and\neven to descend to the particular occasions and circumstances by which\nshe ran through in threescore years, an author must be hard put to it\nwrap it up so clean as not to give room, especially for vicious\nreaders, to turn it to his disadvantage.\nAll possible care, however, has been taken to give no lewd ideas, no\nimmodest turns in the new dressing up of this story; no, not to the\nworst parts of her expressions. To this purpose some of the vicious\npart of her life, which could not be modestly told, is quite left out,\nand several other parts are very much shortened. What is left \u2019tis\nhoped will not offend the chastest reader or the modest hearer; and as\nthe best use is made even of the worst story, the moral \u2019tis hoped will\nkeep the reader serious, even where the story might incline him to be\notherwise. To give the history of a wicked life repented of,\nnecessarily requires that the wicked part should be make as wicked as\nthe real history of it will bear, to illustrate and give a beauty to\nthe penitent part, which is certainly the best and brightest, if\nrelated with equal spirit and life.\nIt is suggested there cannot be the same life, the same brightness and\nbeauty, in relating the penitent part as is in the criminal part. If\nthere is any truth in that suggestion, I must be allowed to say \u2019tis\nbecause there is not the same taste and relish in the reading, and\nindeed it is too true that the difference lies not in the real worth of\nthe subject so much as in the gust and palate of the reader.\nBut as this work is chiefly recommended to those who know how to read\nit, and how to make the good uses of it which the story all along\nrecommends to them, so it is to be hoped that such readers will be more\npleased with the moral than the fable, with the application than with\nthe relation, and with the end of the writer than with the life of the\nperson written of.\nThere is in this story abundance of delightful incidents, and all of\nthem usefully applied. There is an agreeable turn artfully given them\nin the relating, that naturally instructs the reader, either one way or\nother. The first part of her lewd life with the young gentleman at\nColchester has so many happy turns given it to expose the crime, and\nwarn all whose circumstances are adapted to it, of the ruinous end of\nsuch things, and the foolish, thoughtless, and abhorred conduct of both\nthe parties, that it abundantly atones for all the lively description\nshe gives of her folly and wickedness.\nThe repentance of her lover at the Bath, and how brought by the just\nalarm of his fit of sickness to abandon her; the just caution given\nthere against even the lawful intimacies of the dearest friends, and\nhow unable they are to preserve the most solemn resolutions of virtue\nwithout divine assistance; these are parts which, to a just\ndiscernment, will appear to have more real beauty in them, than all the\namorous chain of story which introduces it.\nIn a word, as the whole relation is carefully garbled of all the levity\nand looseness that was in it, so it all applied, and with the utmost\ncare, to virtuous and religious uses. None can, without being guilty of\nmanifest injustice, cast any reproach upon it, or upon our design in\npublishing it.\nThe advocates for the stage have, in all ages, made this the great\nargument to persuade people that their plays are useful, and that they\nought to be allowed in the most civilised and in the most religious\ngovernment; namely, that they are applied to virtuous purposes, and\nthat by the most lively representations, they fail not to recommend\nvirtue and generous principles, and to discourage and expose all sorts\nof vice and corruption of manners; and were it true that they did so,\nand that they constantly adhered to that rule, as the test of their\nacting on the theatre, much might be said in their favour.\nThroughout the infinite variety of this book, this fundamental is most\nstrictly adhered to; there is not a wicked action in any part of it,\nbut is first and last rendered unhappy and unfortunate; there is not a\nsuperlative villain brought upon the stage, but either he is brought to\nan unhappy end, or brought to be a penitent; there is not an ill thing\nmentioned but it is condemned, even in the relation, nor a virtuous,\njust thing but it carries its praise along with it. What can more\nexactly answer the rule laid down, to recommend even those\nrepresentations of things which have so many other just objections\nleaving against them? namely, of example, of bad company, obscene\nlanguage, and the like.\nUpon this foundation this book is recommended to the reader as a work\nfrom every part of which something may be learned, and some just and\nreligious inference is drawn, by which the reader will have something\nof instruction, if he pleases to make use of it.\nAll the exploits of this lady of fame, in her depredations upon\nmankind, stand as so many warnings to honest people to beware of them,\nintimating to them by what methods innocent people are drawn in,\nplundered and robbed, and by consequence how to avoid them. Her robbing\na little innocent child, dressed fine by the vanity of the mother, to\ngo to the dancing-school, is a good memento to such people hereafter,\nas is likewise her picking the gold watch from the young lady\u2019s side in\nthe Park.\nHer getting a parcel from a hare-brained wench at the coaches in St.\nJohn Street; her booty made at the fire, and again at Harwich, all give\nus excellent warnings in such cases to be more present to ourselves in\nsudden surprises of every sort.\nHer application to a sober life and industrious management at last in\nVirginia, with her transported spouse, is a story fruitful of\ninstruction to all the unfortunate creatures who are obliged to seek\ntheir re-establishment abroad, whether by the misery of transportation\nor other disaster; letting them know that diligence and application\nhave their due encouragement, even in the remotest parts of the world,\nand that no case can be so low, so despicable, or so empty of prospect,\nbut that an unwearied industry will go a great way to deliver us from\nit, will in time raise the meanest creature to appear again in the\nworld, and give him a new case for his life.\nThere are a few of the serious inferences which we are led by the hand\nto in this book, and these are fully sufficient to justify any man in\nrecommending it to the world, and much more to justify the publication\nof it.\nThere are two of the most beautiful parts still behind, which this\nstory gives some idea of, and lets us into the parts of them, but they\nare either of them too long to be brought into the same volume, and\nindeed are, as I may call them, whole volumes of themselves, viz.: 1.\nThe life of her governess, as she calls her, who had run through, it\nseems, in a few years, all the eminent degrees of a gentlewoman, a\nwhore, and a bawd; a midwife and a midwife-keeper, as they are called;\na pawnbroker, a childtaker, a receiver of thieves, and of thieves\u2019\npurchase, that is to say, of stolen goods; and in a word, herself a\nthief, a breeder up of thieves and the like, and yet at last a\npenitent.\nThe second is the life of her transported husband, a highwayman, who it\nseems, lived a twelve years\u2019 life of successful villainy upon the road,\nand even at last came off so well as to be a volunteer transport, not a\nconvict; and in whose life there is an incredible variety.\nBut, as I have said, these are things too long to bring in here, so\nneither can I make a promise of the coming out by themselves.\nWe cannot say, indeed, that this history is carried on quite to the end\nof the life of this famous Moll Flanders, as she calls herself, for\nnobody can write their own life to the full end of it, unless they can\nwrite it after they are dead. But her husband\u2019s life, being written by\na third hand, gives a full account of them both, how long they lived\ntogether in that country, and how they both came to England again,\nafter about eight years, in which time they were grown very rich, and\nwhere she lived, it seems, to be very old, but was not so extraordinary\na penitent as she was at first; it seems only that indeed she always\nspoke with abhorrence of her former life, and of every part of it.\nIn her last scene, at Maryland and Virginia, many pleasant things\nhappened, which makes that part of her life very agreeable, but they\nare not told with the same elegancy as those accounted for by herself;\nso it is still to the more advantage that we break off here.\n MOLL FLANDERS\nMy true name is so well known in the records or registers at Newgate,\nand in the Old Bailey, and there are some things of such consequence\nstill depending there, relating to my particular conduct, that it is\nnot be expected I should set my name or the account of my family to\nthis work; perhaps, after my death, it may be better known; at present\nit would not be proper, no not though a general pardon should be\nissued, even without exceptions and reserve of persons or crimes.\nIt is enough to tell you, that as some of my worst comrades, who are\nout of the way of doing me harm (having gone out of the world by the\nsteps and the string, as I often expected to go), knew me by the name\nof Moll Flanders, so you may give me leave to speak of myself under\nthat name till I dare own who I have been, as well as who I am.\nI have been told that in one of our neighbour nations, whether it be in\nFrance or where else I know not, they have an order from the king, that\nwhen any criminal is condemned, either to die, or to the galleys, or to\nbe transported, if they leave any children, as such are generally\nunprovided for, by the poverty or forfeiture of their parents, so they\nare immediately taken into the care of the Government, and put into a\nhospital called the House of Orphans, where they are bred up, clothed,\nfed, taught, and when fit to go out, are placed out to trades or to\nservices, so as to be well able to provide for themselves by an honest,\nindustrious behaviour.\nHad this been the custom in our country, I had not been left a poor\ndesolate girl without friends, without clothes, without help or helper\nin the world, as was my fate; and by which I was not only exposed to\nvery great distresses, even before I was capable either of\nunderstanding my case or how to amend it, but brought into a course of\nlife which was not only scandalous in itself, but which in its ordinary\ncourse tended to the swift destruction both of soul and body.\nBut the case was otherwise here. My mother was convicted of felony for\na certain petty theft scarce worth naming, viz. having an opportunity\nof borrowing three pieces of fine holland of a certain draper in\nCheapside. The circumstances are too long to repeat, and I have heard\nthem related so many ways, that I can scarce be certain which is the\nright account.\nHowever it was, this they all agree in, that my mother pleaded her\nbelly, and being found quick with child, she was respited for about\nseven months; in which time having brought me into the world, and being\nabout again, she was called down, as they term it, to her former\njudgment, but obtained the favour of being transported to the\nplantations, and left me about half a year old; and in bad hands, you\nmay be sure.\nThis is too near the first hours of my life for me to relate anything\nof myself but by hearsay; it is enough to mention, that as I was born\nin such an unhappy place, I had no parish to have recourse to for my\nnourishment in my infancy; nor can I give the least account how I was\nkept alive, other than that, as I have been told, some relation of my\nmother\u2019s took me away for a while as a nurse, but at whose expense, or\nby whose direction, I know nothing at all of it.\nThe first account that I can recollect, or could ever learn of myself,\nwas that I had wandered among a crew of those people they call gypsies,\nor Egyptians; but I believe it was but a very little while that I had\nbeen among them, for I had not had my skin discoloured or blackened, as\nthey do very young to all the children they carry about with them; nor\ncan I tell how I came among them, or how I got from them.\nIt was at Colchester, in Essex, that those people left me; and I have a\nnotion in my head that I left them there (that is, that I hid myself\nand would not go any farther with them), but I am not able to be\nparticular in that account; only this I remember, that being taken up\nby some of the parish officers of Colchester, I gave an account that I\ncame into the town with the gypsies, but that I would not go any\nfarther with them, and that so they had left me, but whither they were\ngone that I knew not, nor could they expect it of me; for though they\nsend round the country to inquire after them, it seems they could not\nbe found.\nI was now in a way to be provided for; for though I was not a parish\ncharge upon this or that part of the town by law, yet as my case came\nto be known, and that I was too young to do any work, being not above\nthree years old, compassion moved the magistrates of the town to order\nsome care to be taken of me, and I became one of their own as much as\nif I had been born in the place.\nIn the provision they made for me, it was my good hap to be put to\nnurse, as they call it, to a woman who was indeed poor but had been in\nbetter circumstances, and who got a little livelihood by taking such as\nI was supposed to be, and keeping them with all necessaries, till they\nwere at a certain age, in which it might be supposed they might go to\nservice or get their own bread.\nThis woman had also had a little school, which she kept to teach\nchildren to read and to work; and having, as I have said, lived before\nthat in good fashion, she bred up the children she took with a great\ndeal of art, as well as with a great deal of care.\nBut that which was worth all the rest, she bred them up very\nreligiously, being herself a very sober, pious woman, very house-wifely\nand clean, and very mannerly, and with good behaviour. So that in a\nword, expecting a plain diet, coarse lodging, and mean clothes, we were\nbrought up as mannerly and as genteelly as if we had been at the\ndancing-school.\nI was continued here till I was eight years old, when I was terrified\nwith news that the magistrates (as I think they called them) had\nordered that I should go to service. I was able to do but very little\nservice wherever I was to go, except it was to run of errands and be a\ndrudge to some cookmaid, and this they told me of often, which put me\ninto a great fright; for I had a thorough aversion to going to service,\nas they called it (that is, to be a servant), though I was so young;\nand I told my nurse, as we called her, that I believed I could get my\nliving without going to service, if she pleased to let me; for she had\ntaught me to work with my needle, and spin worsted, which is the chief\ntrade of that city, and I told her that if she would keep me, I would\nwork for her, and I would work very hard.\nI talked to her almost every day of working hard; and, in short, I did\nnothing but work and cry all day, which grieved the good, kind woman so\nmuch, that at last she began to be concerned for me, for she loved me\nvery well.\nOne day after this, as she came into the room where all we poor\nchildren were at work, she sat down just over against me, not in her\nusual place as mistress, but as if she set herself on purpose to\nobserve me and see me work. I was doing something she had set me to; as\nI remember, it was marking some shirts which she had taken to make, and\nafter a while she began to talk to me. \u201cThou foolish child,\u201d says she,\n\u201cthou art always crying\u201d (for I was crying then); \u201cprithee, what dost\ncry for?\u201d \u201cBecause they will take me away,\u201d says I, \u201cand put me to\nservice, and I can\u2019t work housework.\u201d \u201cWell, child,\u201d says she, \u201cbut\nthough you can\u2019t work housework, as you call it, you will learn it in\ntime, and they won\u2019t put you to hard things at first.\u201d \u201cYes, they\nwill,\u201d says I, \u201cand if I can\u2019t do it they will beat me, and the maids\nwill beat me to make me do great work, and I am but a little girl and I\ncan\u2019t do it\u201d; and then I cried again, till I could not speak any more\nto her.\nThis moved my good motherly nurse, so that she from that time resolved\nI should not go to service yet; so she bid me not cry, and she would\nspeak to Mr. Mayor, and I should not go to service till I was bigger.\nWell, this did not satisfy me, for to think of going to service was\nsuch a frightful thing to me, that if she had assured me I should not\nhave gone till I was twenty years old, it would have been the same to\nme; I should have cried, I believe, all the time, with the very\napprehension of its being to be so at last.\nWhen she saw that I was not pacified yet, she began to be angry with\nme. \u201cAnd what would you have?\u201d says she; \u201cdon\u2019t I tell you that you\nshall not go to service till your are bigger?\u201d \u201cAy,\u201d said I, \u201cbut then\nI must go at last.\u201d \u201cWhy, what?\u201d said she; \u201cis the girl mad? What would\nyou be\u2014a gentlewoman?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d says I, and cried heartily till I roared\nout again.\nThis set the old gentlewoman a-laughing at me, as you may be sure it\nwould. \u201cWell, madam, forsooth,\u201d says she, gibing at me, \u201cyou would be a\ngentlewoman; and pray how will you come to be a gentlewoman? What! will\nyou do it by your fingers\u2019 end?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d says I again, very innocently.\n\u201cWhy, what can you earn?\u201d says she; \u201cwhat can you get at your work?\u201d\n\u201cThreepence,\u201d said I, \u201cwhen I spin, and fourpence when I work plain\nwork.\u201d\n\u201cAlas! poor gentlewoman,\u201d said she again, laughing, \u201cwhat will that do\nfor thee?\u201d\n\u201cIt will keep me,\u201d says I, \u201cif you will let me live with you.\u201d And this\nI said in such a poor petitioning tone, that it made the poor woman\u2019s\nheart yearn to me, as she told me afterwards.\n\u201cBut,\u201d says she, \u201cthat will not keep you and buy you clothes too; and\nwho must buy the little gentlewoman clothes?\u201d says she, and smiled all\nthe while at me.\n\u201cI will work harder, then,\u201d says I, \u201cand you shall have it all.\u201d\n\u201cPoor child! it won\u2019t keep you,\u201d says she; \u201cit will hardly keep you in\nvictuals.\u201d\n\u201cThen I will have no victuals,\u201d says I, again very innocently; \u201clet me\nbut live with you.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, can you live without victuals?\u201d says she.\n\u201cYes,\u201d again says I, very much like a child, you may be sure, and still\nI cried heartily.\nI had no policy in all this; you may easily see it was all nature; but\nit was joined with so much innocence and so much passion that, in\nshort, it set the good motherly creature a-weeping too, and she cried\nat last as fast as I did, and then took me and led me out of the\nteaching-room. \u201cCome,\u201d says she, \u201cyou shan\u2019t go to service; you shall\nlive with me\u201d; and this pacified me for the present.\nSome time after this, she going to wait on the Mayor, and talking of\nsuch things as belonged to her business, at last my story came up, and\nmy good nurse told Mr. Mayor the whole tale. He was so pleased with it,\nthat he would call his lady and his two daughters to hear it, and it\nmade mirth enough among them, you may be sure.\nHowever, not a week had passed over, but on a sudden comes Mrs.\nMayoress and her two daughters to the house to see my old nurse, and to\nsee her school and the children. When they had looked about them a\nlittle, \u201cWell, Mrs. \u2014\u2014,\u201d says the Mayoress to my nurse, \u201cand pray which\nis the little lass that intends to be a gentlewoman?\u201d I heard her, and\nI was terribly frighted at first, though I did not know why neither;\nbut Mrs. Mayoress comes up to me. \u201cWell, miss,\u201d says she, \u201cand what are\nyou at work upon?\u201d The word miss was a language that had hardly been\nheard of in our school, and I wondered what sad name it was she called\nme. However, I stood up, made a curtsy, and she took my work out of my\nhand, looked on it, and said it was very well; then she took up one of\nthe hands. \u201cNay,\u201d says she, \u201cthe child may come to be a gentlewoman for\naught anybody knows; she has a gentlewoman\u2019s hand,\u201d says she. This\npleased me mightily, you may be sure; but Mrs. Mayoress did not stop\nthere, but giving me my work again, she put her hand in her pocket,\ngave me a shilling, and bid me mind my work, and learn to work well,\nand I might be a gentlewoman for aught she knew.\nNow all this while my good old nurse, Mrs. Mayoress, and all the rest\nof them did not understand me at all, for they meant one sort of thing\nby the word gentlewoman, and I meant quite another; for alas! all I\nunderstood by being a gentlewoman was to be able to work for myself,\nand get enough to keep me without that terrible bugbear going to\nservice, whereas they meant to live great, rich and high, and I know\nnot what.\nWell, after Mrs. Mayoress was gone, her two daughters came in, and they\ncalled for the gentlewoman too, and they talked a long while to me, and\nI answered them in my innocent way; but always, if they asked me\nwhether I resolved to be a gentlewoman, I answered Yes. At last one of\nthem asked me what a gentlewoman was? That puzzled me much; but,\nhowever, I explained myself negatively, that it was one that did not go\nto service, to do housework. They were pleased to be familiar with me,\nand like my little prattle to them, which, it seems, was agreeable\nenough to them, and they gave me money too.\nAs for my money, I gave it all to my mistress-nurse, as I called her,\nand told her she should have all I got for myself when I was a\ngentlewoman, as well as now. By this and some other of my talk, my old\ntutoress began to understand me about what I meant by being a\ngentlewoman, and that I understood by it no more than to be able to get\nmy bread by my own work; and at last she asked me whether it was not\nso.\nI told her, yes, and insisted on it, that to do so was to be a\ngentlewoman; \u201cfor,\u201d says I, \u201cthere is such a one,\u201d naming a woman that\nmended lace and washed the ladies\u2019 laced-heads; \u201cshe,\u201d says I, \u201cis a\ngentlewoman, and they call her madam.\u201d\n\u201cPoor child,\u201d says my good old nurse, \u201cyou may soon be such a\ngentlewoman as that, for she is a person of ill fame, and has had two\nor three bastards.\u201d\nI did not understand anything of that; but I answered, \u201cI am sure they\ncall her madam, and she does not go to service nor do housework\u201d; and\ntherefore I insisted that she was a gentlewoman, and I would be such a\ngentlewoman as that.\nThe ladies were told all this again, to be sure, and they made\nthemselves merry with it, and every now and then the young ladies, Mr.\nMayor\u2019s daughters, would come and see me, and ask where the little\ngentlewoman was, which made me not a little proud of myself.\nThis held a great while, and I was often visited by these young ladies,\nand sometimes they brought others with them; so that I was known by it\nalmost all over the town.\nI was now about ten years old, and began to look a little womanish, for\nI was mighty grave and humble, very mannerly, and as I had often heard\nthe ladies say I was pretty, and would be a very handsome woman, so you\nmay be sure that hearing them say so made me not a little proud.\nHowever, that pride had no ill effect upon me yet; only, as they often\ngave me money, and I gave it to my old nurse, she, honest woman, was so\njust to me as to lay it all out again for me, and gave me head-dresses,\nand linen, and gloves, and ribbons, and I went very neat, and always\nclean; for that I would do, and if I had rags on, I would always be\nclean, or else I would dabble them in water myself; but, I say, my good\nnurse, when I had money given me, very honestly laid it out for me, and\nwould always tell the ladies this or that was bought with their money;\nand this made them oftentimes give me more, till at last I was indeed\ncalled upon by the magistrates, as I understood it, to go out to\nservice; but then I was come to be so good a workwoman myself, and the\nladies were so kind to me, that it was plain I could maintain\nmyself\u2014that is to say, I could earn as much for my nurse as she was\nable by it to keep me\u2014so she told them that if they would give her\nleave, she would keep the gentlewoman, as she called me, to be her\nassistant and teach the children, which I was very well able to do; for\nI was very nimble at my work, and had a good hand with my needle,\nthough I was yet very young.\nBut the kindness of the ladies of the town did not end here, for when\nthey came to understand that I was no more maintained by the public\nallowance as before, they gave me money oftener than formerly; and as I\ngrew up they brought me work to do for them, such as linen to make, and\nlaces to mend, and heads to dress up, and not only paid me for doing\nthem, but even taught me how to do them; so that now I was a\ngentlewoman indeed, as I understood that word, I not only found myself\nclothes and paid my nurse for my keeping, but got money in my pocket\ntoo beforehand.\nThe ladies also gave me clothes frequently of their own or their\nchildren\u2019s; some stockings, some petticoats, some gowns, some one\nthing, some another, and these my old woman managed for me like a mere\nmother, and kept them for me, obliged me to mend them, and turn them\nand twist them to the best advantage, for she was a rare housewife.\nAt last one of the ladies took so much fancy to me that she would have\nme home to her house, for a month, she said, to be among her daughters.\nNow, though this was exceeding kind in her, yet, as my old good woman\nsaid to her, unless she resolved to keep me for good and all, she would\ndo the little gentlewoman more harm than good. \u201cWell,\u201d says the lady,\n\u201cthat\u2019s true; and therefore I\u2019ll only take her home for a week, then,\nthat I may see how my daughters and she agree together, and how I like\nher temper, and then I\u2019ll tell you more; and in the meantime, if\nanybody comes to see her as they used to do, you may only tell them you\nhave sent her out to my house.\u201d\nThis was prudently managed enough, and I went to the lady\u2019s house; but\nI was so pleased there with the young ladies, and they so pleased with\nme, that I had enough to do to come away, and they were as unwilling to\npart with me.\nHowever, I did come away, and lived almost a year more with my honest\nold woman, and began now to be very helpful to her; for I was almost\nfourteen years old, was tall of my age, and looked a little womanish;\nbut I had such a taste of genteel living at the lady\u2019s house that I was\nnot so easy in my old quarters as I used to be, and I thought it was\nfine to be a gentlewoman indeed, for I had quite other notions of a\ngentlewoman now than I had before; and as I thought, I say, that it was\nfine to be a gentlewoman, so I loved to be among gentlewomen, and\ntherefore I longed to be there again.\nAbout the time that I was fourteen years and a quarter old, my good\nnurse, mother I rather to call her, fell sick and died. I was then in a\nsad condition indeed, for as there is no great bustle in putting an end\nto a poor body\u2019s family when once they are carried to the grave, so the\npoor good woman being buried, the parish children she kept were\nimmediately removed by the church-wardens; the school was at an end,\nand the children of it had no more to do but just stay at home till\nthey were sent somewhere else; and as for what she left, her daughter,\na married woman with six or seven children, came and swept it all away\nat once, and removing the goods, they had no more to say to me than to\njest with me, and tell me that the little gentlewoman might set up for\nherself if she pleased.\nI was frighted out of my wits almost, and knew not what to do, for I\nwas, as it were, turned out of doors to the wide world, and that which\nwas still worse, the old honest woman had two-and-twenty shillings of\nmine in her hand, which was all the estate the little gentlewoman had\nin the world; and when I asked the daughter for it, she huffed me and\nlaughed at me, and told me she had nothing to do with it.\nIt was true the good, poor woman had told her daughter of it, and that\nit lay in such a place, that it was the child\u2019s money, and had called\nonce or twice for me to give it me, but I was, unhappily, out of the\nway somewhere or other, and when I came back she was past being in a\ncondition to speak of it. However, the daughter was so honest\nafterwards as to give it me, though at first she used me cruelly about\nit.\nNow was I a poor gentlewoman indeed, and I was just that very night to\nbe turned into the wide world; for the daughter removed all the goods,\nand I had not so much as a lodging to go to, or a bit of bread to eat.\nBut it seems some of the neighbours, who had known my circumstances,\ntook so much compassion of me as to acquaint the lady in whose family I\nhad been a week, as I mentioned above; and immediately she sent her\nmaid to fetch me away, and two of her daughters came with the maid\nthough unsent. So I went with them, bag and baggage, and with a glad\nheart, you may be sure. The fright of my condition had made such an\nimpression upon me, that I did not want now to be a gentlewoman, but\nwas very willing to be a servant, and that any kind of servant they\nthought fit to have me be.\nBut my new generous mistress, for she exceeded the good woman I was\nwith before, in everything, as well as in the matter of estate; I say,\nin everything except honesty; and for that, though this was a lady most\nexactly just, yet I must not forget to say on all occasions, that the\nfirst, though poor, was as uprightly honest as it was possible for any\none to be.\nI was no sooner carried away, as I have said, by this good gentlewoman,\nbut the first lady, that is to say, the Mayoress that was, sent her two\ndaughters to take care of me; and another family which had taken notice\nof me when I was the little gentlewoman, and had given me work to do,\nsent for me after her, so that I was mightily made of, as we say; nay,\nand they were not a little angry, especially madam the Mayoress, that\nher friend had taken me away from her, as she called it; for, as she\nsaid, I was hers by right, she having been the first that took any\nnotice of me. But they that had me would not part with me; and as for\nme, though I should have been very well treated with any of the others,\nyet I could not be better than where I was.\nHere I continued till I was between seventeen and eighteen years old,\nand here I had all the advantages for my education that could be\nimagined; the lady had masters home to the house to teach her daughters\nto dance, and to speak French, and to write, and other to teach them\nmusic; and I was always with them, I learned as fast as they; and\nthough the masters were not appointed to teach me, yet I learned by\nimitation and inquiry all that they learned by instruction and\ndirection; so that, in short, I learned to dance and speak French as\nwell as any of them, and to sing much better, for I had a better voice\nthan any of them. I could not so readily come at playing on the\nharpsichord or spinet, because I had no instrument of my own to\npractice on, and could only come at theirs in the intervals when they\nleft it, which was uncertain; but yet I learned tolerably well too, and\nthe young ladies at length got two instruments, that is to say, a\nharpsichord and a spinet too, and then they taught me themselves. But\nas to dancing, they could hardly help my learning country-dances,\nbecause they always wanted me to make up even number; and, on the other\nhand, they were as heartily willing to learn me everything that they\nhad been taught themselves, as I could be to take the learning.\nBy this means I had, as I have said above, all the advantages of\neducation that I could have had if I had been as much a gentlewoman as\nthey were with whom I lived; and in some things I had the advantage of\nmy ladies, though they were my superiors; but they were all the gifts\nof nature, and which all their fortunes could not furnish. First, I was\napparently handsomer than any of them; secondly, I was better shaped;\nand, thirdly, I sang better, by which I mean I had a better voice; in\nall which you will, I hope, allow me to say, I do not speak my own\nconceit of myself, but the opinion of all that knew the family.\nI had with all these the common vanity of my sex, viz. that being\nreally taken for very handsome, or, if you please, for a great beauty,\nI very well knew it, and had as good an opinion of myself as anybody\nelse could have of me; and particularly I loved to hear anybody speak\nof it, which could not but happen to me sometimes, and was a great\nsatisfaction to me.\nThus far I have had a smooth story to tell of myself, and in all this\npart of my life I not only had the reputation of living in a very good\nfamily, and a family noted and respected everywhere for virtue and\nsobriety, and for every valuable thing; but I had the character too of\na very sober, modest, and virtuous young woman, and such I had always\nbeen; neither had I yet any occasion to think of anything else, or to\nknow what a temptation to wickedness meant.\nBut that which I was too vain of was my ruin, or rather my vanity was\nthe cause of it. The lady in the house where I was had two sons, young\ngentlemen of very promising parts and of extraordinary behaviour, and\nit was my misfortune to be very well with them both, but they managed\nthemselves with me in a quite different manner.\nThe eldest, a gay gentleman that knew the town as well as the country,\nand though he had levity enough to do an ill-natured thing, yet had too\nmuch judgment of things to pay too dear for his pleasures; he began\nwith the unhappy snare to all women, viz. taking notice upon all\noccasions how pretty I was, as he called it, how agreeable, how\nwell-carriaged, and the like; and this he contrived so subtly, as if he\nhad known as well how to catch a woman in his net as a partridge when\nhe went a-setting; for he would contrive to be talking this to his\nsisters when, though I was not by, yet when he knew I was not far off\nbut that I should be sure to hear him. His sisters would return softly\nto him, \u201cHush, brother, she will hear you; she is but in the next\nroom.\u201d Then he would put it off and talk softlier, as if he had not\nknown it, and begin to acknowledge he was wrong; and then, as if he had\nforgot himself, he would speak aloud again, and I, that was so well\npleased to hear it, was sure to listen for it upon all occasions.\nAfter he had thus baited his hook, and found easily enough the method\nhow to lay it in my way, he played an opener game; and one day, going\nby his sister\u2019s chamber when I was there, doing something about\ndressing her, he comes in with an air of gaiety. \u201cOh, Mrs. Betty,\u201d said\nhe to me, \u201chow do you do, Mrs. Betty? Don\u2019t your cheeks burn, Mrs.\nBetty?\u201d I made a curtsy and blushed, but said nothing. \u201cWhat makes you\ntalk so, brother?\u201d says the lady. \u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201cwe have been talking\nof her below-stairs this half-hour.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says his sister, \u201cyou can\nsay no harm of her, that I am sure, so \u2019tis no matter what you have\nbeen talking about.\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d says he, \u201c\u2019tis so far from talking harm of\nher, that we have been talking a great deal of good, and a great many\nfine things have been said of Mrs. Betty, I assure you; and\nparticularly, that she is the handsomest young woman in Colchester;\nand, in short, they begin to toast her health in the town.\u201d\n\u201cI wonder at you, brother,\u201d says the sister. \u201cBetty wants but one\nthing, but she had as good want everything, for the market is against\nour sex just now; and if a young woman have beauty, birth, breeding,\nwit, sense, manners, modesty, and all these to an extreme, yet if she\nhave not money, she\u2019s nobody, she had as good want them all for nothing\nbut money now recommends a woman; the men play the game all into their\nown hands.\u201d\nHer younger brother, who was by, cried, \u201cHold, sister, you run too\nfast; I am an exception to your rule. I assure you, if I find a woman\nso accomplished as you talk of, I say, I assure you, I would not\ntrouble myself about the money.\u201d\n\u201cOh,\u201d says the sister, \u201cbut you will take care not to fancy one, then,\nwithout the money.\u201d\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know that neither,\u201d says the brother.\n\u201cBut why, sister,\u201d says the elder brother, \u201cwhy do you exclaim so at\nthe men for aiming so much at the fortune? You are none of them that\nwant a fortune, whatever else you want.\u201d\n\u201cI understand you, brother,\u201d replies the lady very smartly; \u201cyou\nsuppose I have the money, and want the beauty; but as times go now, the\nfirst will do without the last, so I have the better of my neighbours.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says the younger brother, \u201cbut your neighbours, as you call\nthem, may be even with you, for beauty will steal a husband sometimes\nin spite of money, and when the maid chances to be handsomer than the\nmistress, she oftentimes makes as good a market, and rides in a coach\nbefore her.\u201d\nI thought it was time for me to withdraw and leave them, and I did so,\nbut not so far but that I heard all their discourse, in which I heard\nabundance of the fine things said of myself, which served to prompt my\nvanity, but, as I soon found, was not the way to increase my interest\nin the family, for the sister and the younger brother fell grievously\nout about it; and as he said some very disobliging things to her upon\nmy account, so I could easily see that she resented them by her future\nconduct to me, which indeed was very unjust to me, for I had never had\nthe least thought of what she suspected as to her younger brother;\nindeed, the elder brother, in his distant, remote way, had said a great\nmany things as in jest, which I had the folly to believe were in\nearnest, or to flatter myself with the hopes of what I ought to have\nsupposed he never intended, and perhaps never thought of.\nIt happened one day that he came running upstairs, towards the room\nwhere his sisters used to sit and work, as he often used to do; and\ncalling to them before he came in, as was his way too, I, being there\nalone, stepped to the door, and said, \u201cSir, the ladies are not here,\nthey are walked down the garden.\u201d As I stepped forward to say this,\ntowards the door, he was just got to the door, and clasping me in his\narms, as if it had been by chance, \u201cOh, Mrs. Betty,\u201d says he, \u201care you\nhere? That\u2019s better still; I want to speak with you more than I do with\nthem\u201d; and then, having me in his arms, he kissed me three or four\ntimes.\nI struggled to get away, and yet did it but faintly neither, and he\nheld me fast, and still kissed me, till he was almost out of breath,\nand then, sitting down, says, \u201cDear Betty, I am in love with you.\u201d\nHis words, I must confess, fired my blood; all my spirits flew about my\nheart and put me into disorder enough, which he might easily have seen\nin my face. He repeated it afterwards several times, that he was in\nlove with me, and my heart spoke as plain as a voice, that I liked it;\nnay, whenever he said, \u201cI am in love with you,\u201d my blushes plainly\nreplied, \u201cWould you were, sir.\u201d\nHowever, nothing else passed at that time; it was but a surprise, and\nwhen he was gone I soon recovered myself again. He had stayed longer\nwith me, but he happened to look out at the window and see his sisters\ncoming up the garden, so he took his leave, kissed me again, told me he\nwas very serious, and I should hear more of him very quickly, and away\nhe went, leaving me infinitely pleased, though surprised; and had there\nnot been one misfortune in it, I had been in the right, but the mistake\nlay here, that Mrs. Betty was in earnest and the gentleman was not.\nFrom this time my head ran upon strange things, and I may truly say I\nwas not myself; to have such a gentleman talk to me of being in love\nwith me, and of my being such a charming creature, as he told me I was;\nthese were things I knew not how to bear, my vanity was elevated to the\nlast degree. It is true I had my head full of pride, but, knowing\nnothing of the wickedness of the times, I had not one thought of my own\nsafety or of my virtue about me; and had my young master offered it at\nfirst sight, he might have taken any liberty he thought fit with me;\nbut he did not see his advantage, which was my happiness for that time.\nAfter this attack it was not long but he found an opportunity to catch\nme again, and almost in the same posture; indeed, it had more of design\nin it on his part, though not on my part. It was thus: the young ladies\nwere all gone a-visiting with their mother; his brother was out of\ntown; and as for his father, he had been in London for a week before.\nHe had so well watched me that he knew where I was, though I did not so\nmuch as know that he was in the house; and he briskly comes up the\nstairs and, seeing me at work, comes into the room to me directly, and\nbegan just as he did before, with taking me in his arms, and kissing me\nfor almost a quarter of an hour together.\nIt was his younger sister\u2019s chamber that I was in, and as there was\nnobody in the house but the maids below-stairs, he was, it may be, the\nruder; in short, he began to be in earnest with me indeed. Perhaps he\nfound me a little too easy, for God knows I made no resistance to him\nwhile he only held me in his arms and kissed me; indeed, I was too well\npleased with it to resist him much.\nHowever, as it were, tired with that kind of work, we sat down, and\nthere he talked with me a great while; he said he was charmed with me,\nand that he could not rest night or day till he had told me how he was\nin love with me, and, if I was able to love him again, and would make\nhim happy, I should be the saving of his life, and many such fine\nthings. I said little to him again, but easily discovered that I was a\nfool, and that I did not in the least perceive what he meant.\nThen he walked about the room, and taking me by the hand, I walked with\nhim; and by and by, taking his advantage, he threw me down upon the\nbed, and kissed me there most violently; but, to give him his due,\noffered no manner of rudeness to me, only kissed a great while. After\nthis he thought he had heard somebody come upstairs, so got off from\nthe bed, lifted me up, professing a great deal of love for me, but told\nme it was all an honest affection, and that he meant no ill to me; and\nwith that he put five guineas into my hand, and went away downstairs.\nI was more confounded with the money than I was before with the love,\nand began to be so elevated that I scarce knew the ground I stood on. I\nam the more particular in this part, that if my story comes to be read\nby any innocent young body, they may learn from it to guard themselves\nagainst the mischiefs which attend an early knowledge of their own\nbeauty. If a young woman once thinks herself handsome, she never doubts\nthe truth of any man that tells her he is in love with her; for if she\nbelieves herself charming enough to captivate him, \u2019tis natural to\nexpect the effects of it.\nThis young gentleman had fired his inclination as much as he had my\nvanity, and, as if he had found that he had an opportunity and was\nsorry he did not take hold of it, he comes up again in half an hour or\nthereabouts, and falls to work with me again as before, only with a\nlittle less introduction.\nAnd first, when he entered the room, he turned about and shut the door.\n\u201cMrs. Betty,\u201d said he, \u201cI fancied before somebody was coming upstairs,\nbut it was not so; however,\u201d adds he, \u201cif they find me in the room with\nyou, they shan\u2019t catch me a-kissing of you.\u201d I told him I did not know\nwho should be coming upstairs, for I believed there was nobody in the\nhouse but the cook and the other maid, and they never came up those\nstairs. \u201cWell, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201c\u2019tis good to be sure, however\u201d; and\nso he sits down, and we began to talk. And now, though I was still all\non fire with his first visit, and said little, he did as it were put\nwords in my mouth, telling me how passionately he loved me, and that\nthough he could not mention such a thing till he came to this estate,\nyet he was resolved to make me happy then, and himself too; that is to\nsay, to marry me, and abundance of such fine things, which I, poor\nfool, did not understand the drift of, but acted as if there was no\nsuch thing as any kind of love but that which tended to matrimony; and\nif he had spoke of that, I had no room, as well as no power, to have\nsaid no; but we were not come that length yet.\nWe had not sat long, but he got up, and, stopping my very breath with\nkisses, threw me upon the bed again; but then being both well warmed,\nhe went farther with me than decency permits me to mention, nor had it\nbeen in my power to have denied him at that moment, had he offered much\nmore than he did.\nHowever, though he took these freedoms with me, it did not go to that\nwhich they call the last favour, which, to do him justice, he did not\nattempt; and he made that self-denial of his a plea for all his\nfreedoms with me upon other occasions after this. When this was over,\nhe stayed but a little while, but he put almost a handful of gold in my\nhand, and left me, making a thousand protestations of his passion for\nme, and of his loving me above all the women in the world.\nIt will not be strange if I now began to think, but alas! it was but\nwith very little solid reflection. I had a most unbounded stock of\nvanity and pride, and but a very little stock of virtue. I did indeed\ncase sometimes with myself what young master aimed at, but thought of\nnothing but the fine words and the gold; whether he intended to marry\nme, or not to marry me, seemed a matter of no great consequence to me;\nnor did my thoughts so much as suggest to me the necessity of making\nany capitulation for myself, till he came to make a kind of formal\nproposal to me, as you shall hear presently.\nThus I gave up myself to a readiness of being ruined without the least\nconcern and am a fair memento to all young women whose vanity prevails\nover their virtue. Nothing was ever so stupid on both sides. Had I\nacted as became me, and resisted as virtue and honour require, this\ngentleman had either desisted his attacks, finding no room to expect\nthe accomplishment of his design, or had made fair and honourable\nproposals of marriage; in which case, whoever had blamed him, nobody\ncould have blamed me. In short, if he had known me, and how easy the\ntrifle he aimed at was to be had, he would have troubled his head no\nfarther, but have given me four or five guineas, and have lain with me\nthe next time he had come at me. And if I had known his thoughts, and\nhow hard he thought I would be to be gained, I might have made my own\nterms with him; and if I had not capitulated for an immediate marriage,\nI might for a maintenance till marriage, and might have had what I\nwould; for he was already rich to excess, besides what he had in\nexpectation; but I seemed wholly to have abandoned all such thoughts as\nthese, and was taken up only with the pride of my beauty, and of being\nbeloved by such a gentleman. As for the gold, I spent whole hours in\nlooking upon it; I told the guineas over and over a thousand times a\nday. Never a poor vain creature was so wrapt up with every part of the\nstory as I was, not considering what was before me, and how near my\nruin was at the door; indeed, I think I rather wished for that ruin\nthan studied to avoid it.\nIn the meantime, however, I was cunning enough not to give the least\nroom to any in the family to suspect me, or to imagine that I had the\nleast correspondence with this young gentleman. I scarce ever looked\ntowards him in public, or answered if he spoke to me when anybody was\nnear us; but for all that, we had every now and then a little\nencounter, where we had room for a word or two, and now and then a\nkiss, but no fair opportunity for the mischief intended; and especially\nconsidering that he made more circumlocution than, if he had known my\nthoughts, he had occasion for; and the work appearing difficult to him,\nhe really made it so.\nBut as the devil is an unwearied tempter, so he never fails to find\nopportunity for that wickedness he invites to. It was one evening that\nI was in the garden, with his two younger sisters and himself, and all\nvery innocently merry, when he found means to convey a note into my\nhand, by which he directed me to understand that he would to-morrow\ndesire me publicly to go of an errand for him into the town, and that I\nshould see him somewhere by the way.\nAccordingly, after dinner, he very gravely says to me, his sisters\nbeing all by, \u201cMrs. Betty, I must ask a favour of you.\u201d \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d\nsays his second sister. \u201cNay, sister,\u201d says he very gravely, \u201cif you\ncan\u2019t spare Mrs. Betty to-day, any other time will do.\u201d Yes, they said,\nthey could spare her well enough, and the sister begged pardon for\nasking, which they did but of mere course, without any meaning. \u201cWell,\nbut, brother,\u201d says the eldest sister, \u201cyou must tell Mrs. Betty what\nit is; if it be any private business that we must not hear, you may\ncall her out. There she is.\u201d \u201cWhy, sister,\u201d says the gentleman very\ngravely, \u201cwhat do you mean? I only desire her to go into the High\nStreet\u201d (and then he pulls out a turnover), \u201cto such a shop\u201d; and then\nhe tells them a long story of two fine neckcloths he had bid money for,\nand he wanted to have me go and make an errand to buy a neck to the\nturnover that he showed, to see if they would take my money for the\nneckcloths; to bid a shilling more, and haggle with them; and then he\nmade more errands, and so continued to have such petty business to do,\nthat I should be sure to stay a good while.\nWhen he had given me my errands, he told them a long story of a visit\nhe was going to make to a family they all knew, and where was to be\nsuch-and-such gentlemen, and how merry they were to be, and very\nformally asks his sisters to go with him, and they as formally excused\nthemselves, because of company that they had notice was to come and\nvisit them that afternoon; which, by the way, he had contrived on\npurpose.\nHe had scarce done speaking to them, and giving me my errand, but his\nman came up to tell him that Sir W\u2014\u2014 H\u2014\u2014\u2019s coach stopped at the door;\nso he runs down, and comes up again immediately. \u201cAlas!\u201d says he aloud,\n\u201cthere\u2019s all my mirth spoiled at once; sir W\u2014\u2014 has sent his coach for\nme, and desires to speak with me upon some earnest business.\u201d It seems\nthis Sir W\u2014\u2014 was a gentleman who lived about three miles out of town,\nto whom he had spoken on purpose the day before, to lend him his\nchariot for a particular occasion, and had appointed it to call for\nhim, as it did, about three o\u2019clock.\nImmediately he calls for his best wig, hat, and sword, and ordering his\nman to go to the other place to make his excuse\u2014 that was to say, he\nmade an excuse to send his man away\u2014he prepares to go into the coach.\nAs he was going, he stopped a while, and speaks mighty earnestly to me\nabout his business, and finds an opportunity to say very softly to me,\n\u201cCome away, my dear, as soon as ever you can.\u201d I said nothing, but made\na curtsy, as if I had done so to what he said in public. In about a\nquarter of an hour I went out too; I had no dress other than before,\nexcept that I had a hood, a mask, a fan, and a pair of gloves in my\npocket; so that there was not the least suspicion in the house. He\nwaited for me in the coach in a back-lane, which he knew I must pass\nby, and had directed the coachman whither to go, which was to a certain\nplace, called Mile End, where lived a confidant of his, where we went\nin, and where was all the convenience in the world to be as wicked as\nwe pleased.\nWhen we were together he began to talk very gravely to me, and to tell\nme he did not bring me there to betray me; that his passion for me\nwould not suffer him to abuse me; that he resolved to marry me as soon\nas he came to his estate; that in the meantime, if I would grant his\nrequest, he would maintain me very honourably; and made me a thousand\nprotestations of his sincerity and of his affection to me; and that he\nwould never abandon me, and as I may say, made a thousand more\npreambles than he need to have done.\nHowever, as he pressed me to speak, I told him I had no reason to\nquestion the sincerity of his love to me after so many protestations,\nbut\u2014and there I stopped, as if I left him to guess the rest. \u201cBut what,\nmy dear?\u201d says he. \u201cI guess what you mean: what if you should be with\nchild? Is not that it? Why, then,\u201d says he, \u201cI\u2019ll take care of you and\nprovide for you, and the child too; and that you may see I am not in\njest,\u201d says he, \u201chere\u2019s an earnest for you,\u201d and with that he pulls out\na silk purse, with an hundred guineas in it, and gave it me. \u201cAnd I\u2019ll\ngive you such another,\u201d says he, \u201cevery year till I marry you.\u201d\nMy colour came and went, at the sight of the purse and with the fire of\nhis proposal together, so that I could not say a word, and he easily\nperceived it; so putting the purse into my bosom, I made no more\nresistance to him, but let him do just what he pleased, and as often as\nhe pleased; and thus I finished my own destruction at once, for from\nthis day, being forsaken of my virtue and my modesty, I had nothing of\nvalue left to recommend me, either to God\u2019s blessing or man\u2019s\nassistance.\nBut things did not end here. I went back to the town, did the business\nhe publicly directed me to, and was at home before anybody thought me\nlong. As for my gentleman, he stayed out, as he told me he would, till\nlate at night, and there was not the least suspicion in the family\neither on his account or on mine.\nWe had, after this, frequent opportunities to repeat our crime\u2014chiefly\nby his contrivance\u2014especially at home, when his mother and the young\nladies went abroad a-visiting, which he watched so narrowly as never to\nmiss; knowing always beforehand when they went out, and then failed not\nto catch me all alone, and securely enough; so that we took our fill of\nour wicked pleasure for near half a year; and yet, which was the most\nto my satisfaction, I was not with child.\nBut before this half-year was expired, his younger brother, of whom I\nhave made some mention in the beginning of the story, falls to work\nwith me; and he, finding me alone in the garden one evening, begins a\nstory of the same kind to me, made good honest professions of being in\nlove with me, and in short, proposes fairly and honourably to marry me,\nand that before he made any other offer to me at all.\nI was now confounded, and driven to such an extremity as the like was\nnever known; at least not to me. I resisted the proposal with\nobstinacy; and now I began to arm myself with arguments. I laid before\nhim the inequality of the match; the treatment I should meet with in\nthe family; the ingratitude it would be to his good father and mother,\nwho had taken me into their house upon such generous principles, and\nwhen I was in such a low condition; and, in short, I said everything to\ndissuade him from his design that I could imagine, except telling him\nthe truth, which would indeed have put an end to it all, but that I\ndurst not think of mentioning.\nBut here happened a circumstance that I did not expect indeed, which\nput me to my shifts; for this young gentleman, as he was plain and\nhonest, so he pretended to nothing with me but what was so too; and,\nknowing his own innocence, he was not so careful to make his having a\nkindness for Mrs. Betty a secret in the house, as his brother was. And\nthough he did not let them know that he had talked to me about it, yet\nhe said enough to let his sisters perceive he loved me, and his mother\nsaw it too, which, though they took no notice of it to me, yet they did\nto him, an immediately I found their carriage to me altered, more than\never before.\nI saw the cloud, though I did not foresee the storm. It was easy, I\nsay, to see that their carriage to me was altered, and that it grew\nworse and worse every day; till at last I got information among the\nservants that I should, in a very little while, be desired to remove.\nI was not alarmed at the news, having a full satisfaction that I should\nbe otherwise provided for; and especially considering that I had reason\nevery day to expect I should be with child, and that then I should be\nobliged to remove without any pretences for it.\nAfter some time the younger gentleman took an opportunity to tell me\nthat the kindness he had for me had got vent in the family. He did not\ncharge me with it, he said, for he know well enough which way it came\nout. He told me his plain way of talking had been the occasion of it,\nfor that he did not make his respect for me so much a secret as he\nmight have done, and the reason was, that he was at a point, that if I\nwould consent to have him, he would tell them all openly that he loved\nme, and that he intended to marry me; that it was true his father and\nmother might resent it, and be unkind, but that he was now in a way to\nlive, being bred to the law, and he did not fear maintaining me\nagreeable to what I should expect; and that, in short, as he believed I\nwould not be ashamed of him, so he was resolved not to be ashamed of\nme, and that he scorned to be afraid to own me now, whom he resolved to\nown after I was his wife, and therefore I had nothing to do but to give\nhim my hand, and he would answer for all the rest.\nI was now in a dreadful condition indeed, and now I repented heartily\nmy easiness with the eldest brother; not from any reflection of\nconscience, but from a view of the happiness I might have enjoyed, and\nhad now made impossible; for though I had no great scruples of\nconscience, as I have said, to struggle with, yet I could not think of\nbeing a whore to one brother and a wife to the other. But then it came\ninto my thoughts that the first brother had promised to made me his\nwife when he came to his estate; but I presently remembered what I had\noften thought of, that he had never spoken a word of having me for a\nwife after he had conquered me for a mistress; and indeed, till now,\nthough I said I thought of it often, yet it gave me no disturbance at\nall, for as he did not seem in the least to lessen his affection to me,\nso neither did he lessen his bounty, though he had the discretion\nhimself to desire me not to lay out a penny of what he gave me in\nclothes, or to make the least show extraordinary, because it would\nnecessarily give jealousy in the family, since everybody know I could\ncome at such things no manner of ordinary way, but by some private\nfriendship, which they would presently have suspected.\nBut I was now in a great strait, and knew not what to do. The main\ndifficulty was this: the younger brother not only laid close siege to\nme, but suffered it to be seen. He would come into his sister\u2019s room,\nand his mother\u2019s room, and sit down, and talk a thousand kind things of\nme, and to me, even before their faces, and when they were all there.\nThis grew so public that the whole house talked of it, and his mother\nreproved him for it, and their carriage to me appeared quite altered.\nIn short, his mother had let fall some speeches, as if she intended to\nput me out of the family; that is, in English, to turn me out of doors.\nNow I was sure this could not be a secret to his brother, only that he\nmight not think, as indeed nobody else yet did, that the youngest\nbrother had made any proposal to me about it; but as I easily could see\nthat it would go farther, so I saw likewise there was an absolute\nnecessity to speak of it to him, or that he would speak of it to me,\nand which to do first I knew not; that is, whether I should break it to\nhim or let it alone till he should break it to me.\nUpon serious consideration, for indeed now I began to consider things\nvery seriously, and never till now; I say, upon serious consideration,\nI resolved to tell him of it first; and it was not long before I had an\nopportunity, for the very next day his brother went to London upon some\nbusiness, and the family being out a-visiting, just as it had happened\nbefore, and as indeed was often the case, he came according to his\ncustom, to spend an hour or two with Mrs. Betty.\nWhen he came and had sat down a while, he easily perceived there was an\nalteration in my countenance, that I was not so free and pleasant with\nhim as I used to be, and particularly, that I had been a-crying; he was\nnot long before he took notice of it, and asked me in very kind terms\nwhat was the matter, and if anything troubled me. I would have put it\noff if I could, but it was not to be concealed; so after suffering many\nimportunities to draw that out of me which I longed as much as possible\nto disclose, I told him that it was true something did trouble me, and\nsomething of such a nature that I could not conceal from him, and yet\nthat I could not tell how to tell him of it neither; that it was a\nthing that not only surprised me, but greatly perplexed me, and that I\nknew not what course to take, unless he would direct me. He told me\nwith great tenderness, that let it be what it would, I should not let\nit trouble me, for he would protect me from all the world.\nI then began at a distance, and told him I was afraid the ladies had\ngot some secret information of our correspondence; for that it was easy\nto see that their conduct was very much changed towards me for a great\nwhile, and that now it was come to that pass that they frequently found\nfault with me, and sometimes fell quite out with me, though I never\ngave them the least occasion; that whereas I used always to lie with\nthe eldest sister, I was lately put to lie by myself, or with one of\nthe maids; and that I had overheard them several times talking very\nunkindly about me; but that which confirmed it all was, that one of the\nservants had told me that she had heard I was to be turned out, and\nthat it was not safe for the family that I should be any longer in the\nhouse.\nHe smiled when he heard all this, and I asked him how he could make so\nlight of it, when he must needs know that if there was any discovery I\nwas undone for ever, and that even it would hurt him, though not ruin\nhim as it would me. I upbraided him, that he was like all the rest of\nthe sex, that, when they had the character and honour of a woman at\ntheir mercy, oftentimes made it their jest, and at least looked upon it\nas a trifle, and counted the ruin of those they had had their will of\nas a thing of no value.\nHe saw me warm and serious, and he changed his style immediately; he\ntold me he was sorry I should have such a thought of him; that he had\nnever given me the least occasion for it, but had been as tender of my\nreputation as he could be of his own; that he was sure our\ncorrespondence had been managed with so much address, that not one\ncreature in the family had so much as a suspicion of it; that if he\nsmiled when I told him my thoughts, it was at the assurance he lately\nreceived, that our understanding one another was not so much as known\nor guessed at; and that when he had told me how much reason he had to\nbe easy, I should smile as he did, for he was very certain it would\ngive me a full satisfaction.\n\u201cThis is a mystery I cannot understand,\u201d says I, \u201cor how it should be\nto my satisfaction that I am to be turned out of doors; for if our\ncorrespondence is not discovered, I know not what else I have done to\nchange the countenances of the whole family to me, or to have them\ntreat me as they do now, who formerly used me with so much tenderness,\nas if I had been one of their own children.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, look you, child,\u201d says he, \u201cthat they are uneasy about you, that\nis true; but that they have the least suspicion of the case as it is,\nand as it respects you and I, is so far from being true, that they\nsuspect my brother Robin; and, in short, they are fully persuaded he\nmakes love to you; nay, the fool has put it into their heads too\nhimself, for he is continually bantering them about it, and making a\njest of himself. I confess I think he is wrong to do so, because he\ncannot but see it vexes them, and makes them unkind to you; but \u2019tis a\nsatisfaction to me, because of the assurance it gives me, that they do\nnot suspect me in the least, and I hope this will be to your\nsatisfaction too.\u201d\n\u201cSo it is,\u201d says I, \u201cone way; but this does not reach my case at all,\nnor is this the chief thing that troubles me, though I have been\nconcerned about that too.\u201d \u201cWhat is it, then?\u201d says he. With which I\nfell to tears, and could say nothing to him at all. He strove to pacify\nme all he could, but began at last to be very pressing upon me to tell\nwhat it was. At last I answered that I thought I ought to tell him too,\nand that he had some right to know it; besides, that I wanted his\ndirection in the case, for I was in such perplexity that I knew not\nwhat course to take, and then I related the whole affair to him. I told\nhim how imprudently his brother had managed himself, in making himself\nso public; for that if he had kept it a secret, as such a thing ought\nto have been, I could but have denied him positively, without giving\nany reason for it, and he would in time have ceased his solicitations;\nbut that he had the vanity, first, to depend upon it that I would not\ndeny him, and then had taken the freedom to tell his resolution of\nhaving me to the whole house.\nI told him how far I had resisted him, and told him how sincere and\nhonourable his offers were. \u201cBut,\u201d says I, \u201cmy case will be doubly\nhard; for as they carry it ill to me now, because he desires to have\nme, they\u2019ll carry it worse when they shall find I have denied him; and\nthey will presently say, there\u2019s something else in it, and then out it\ncomes that I am married already to somebody else, or that I would never\nrefuse a match so much above me as this was.\u201d\nThis discourse surprised him indeed very much. He told me that it was a\ncritical point indeed for me to manage, and he did not see which way I\nshould get out of it; but he would consider it, and let me know next\ntime we met, what resolution he was come to about it; and in the\nmeantime desired I would not give my consent to his brother, nor yet\ngive him a flat denial, but that I would hold him in suspense a while.\nI seemed to start at his saying I should not give him my consent. I\ntold him he knew very well I had no consent to give; that he had\nengaged himself to marry me, and that my consent was the same time\nengaged to him; that he had all along told me I was his wife, and I\nlooked upon myself as effectually so as if the ceremony had passed; and\nthat it was from his own mouth that I did so, he having all along\npersuaded me to call myself his wife.\n\u201cWell, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cdon\u2019t be concerned at that now; if I am not\nyour husband, I\u2019ll be as good as a husband to you; and do not let those\nthings trouble you now, but let me look a little farther into this\naffair, and I shall be able to say more next time we meet.\u201d\nHe pacified me as well as he could with this, but I found he was very\nthoughtful, and that though he was very kind to me and kissed me a\nthousand times, and more I believe, and gave me money too, yet he\noffered no more all the while we were together, which was above two\nhours, and which I much wondered at indeed at that time, considering\nhow it used to be, and what opportunity we had.\nHis brother did not come from London for five or six days, and it was\ntwo days more before he got an opportunity to talk with him; but then\ngetting him by himself he began to talk very close to him about it, and\nthe same evening got an opportunity (for we had a long conference\ntogether) to repeat all their discourse to me, which, as near as I can\nremember, was to the purpose following. He told him he heard strange\nnews of him since he went, viz. that he made love to Mrs. Betty. \u201cWell,\u201d\nsays his brother a little angrily, \u201cand so I do. And what then? What\nhas anybody to do with that?\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d says his brother, \u201cdon\u2019t be angry,\nRobin; I don\u2019t pretend to have anything to do with it; nor do I pretend\nto be angry with you about it. But I find they do concern themselves\nabout it, and that they have used the poor girl ill about it, which I\nshould take as done to myself.\u201d \u201cWhom do you mean by _they_?\u201d says\nRobin. \u201cI mean my mother and the girls,\u201d says the elder brother. \u201cBut\nhark ye,\u201d says his brother, \u201care you in earnest? Do you really love\nthis girl? You may be free with me, you know.\u201d \u201cWhy, then,\u201d says Robin,\n\u201cI will be free with you; I do love her above all the women in the\nworld, and I will have her, let them say and do what they will. I\nbelieve the girl will not deny me.\u201d\nIt struck me to the heart when he told me this, for though it was most\nrational to think I would not deny him, yet I knew in my own conscience\nI must deny him, and I saw my ruin in my being obliged to do so; but I\nknew it was my business to talk otherwise then, so I interrupted him in\nhis story thus.\n\u201cAy!\u201d said I, \u201cdoes he think I cannot deny him? But he shall find I can\ndeny him, for all that.\u201d\n\u201cWell, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cbut let me give you the whole story as it\nwent on between us, and then say what you will.\u201d\nThen he went on and told me that he replied thus: \u201cBut, brother, you\nknow she has nothing, and you may have several ladies with good\nfortunes.\u201d\n\u201c\u2019Tis no matter for that,\u201d said Robin; \u201cI love the girl, and I will\nnever please my pocket in marrying, and not please my fancy.\u201d \u201cAnd so,\nmy dear,\u201d adds he, \u201cthere is no opposing him.\u201d\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d says I, \u201cyou shall see I can oppose him; I have learnt to\nsay No, now though I had not learnt it before; if the best lord in the\nland offered me marriage now, I could very cheerfully say No to him.\u201d\n\u201cWell, but, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cwhat can you say to him? You know, as\nyou said when we talked of it before, he will ask you many questions\nabout it, and all the house will wonder what the meaning of it should\nbe.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, smiling, \u201cI can stop all their mouths at one clap by\ntelling him, and them too, that I am married already to his elder\nbrother.\u201d\nHe smiled a little too at the word, but I could see it startled him,\nand he could not hide the disorder it put him into. However, he\nreturned, \u201cWhy, though that may be true in some sense, yet I suppose\nyou are but in jest when you talk of giving such an answer as that; it\nmay not be convenient on many accounts.\u201d\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d says I pleasantly, \u201cI am not so fond of letting the secret\ncome out without your consent.\u201d\n\u201cBut what, then, can you say to him, or to them,\u201d says he, \u201cwhen they\nfind you positive against a match which would be apparently so much to\nyour advantage?\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cshould I be at a loss? First of all, I am not obliged\nto give me any reason at all; on the other hand, I may tell them I am\nmarried already, and stop there, and that will be a full stop too to\nhim, for he can have no reason to ask one question after it.\u201d\n\u201cAy,\u201d says he; \u201cbut the whole house will tease you about that, even to\nfather and mother, and if you deny them positively, they will be\ndisobliged at you, and suspicious besides.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cwhat can I do? What would you have me do? I was in\nstraight enough before, and as I told you, I was in perplexity before,\nand acquainted you with the circumstances, that I might have your\nadvice.\u201d\n\u201cMy dear,\u201d says he, \u201cI have been considering very much upon it, you may\nbe sure, and though it is a piece of advice that has a great many\nmortifications in it to me, and may at first seem strange to you, yet,\nall things considered, I see no better way for you than to let him go\non; and if you find him hearty and in earnest, marry him.\u201d\nI gave him a look full of horror at those words, and, turning pale as\ndeath, was at the very point of sinking down out of the chair I sat in;\nwhen, giving a start, \u201cMy dear,\u201d says he aloud, \u201cwhat\u2019s the matter with\nyou? Where are you a-going?\u201d and a great many such things; and with\njogging and called to me, fetched me a little to myself, though it was\na good while before I fully recovered my senses, and was not able to\nspeak for several minutes more.\nWhen I was fully recovered he began again. \u201cMy dear,\u201d says he, \u201cwhat\nmade you so surprised at what I said? I would have you consider\nseriously of it? You may see plainly how the family stand in this case,\nand they would be stark mad if it was my case, as it is my brother\u2019s;\nand for aught I see, it would be my ruin and yours too.\u201d\n\u201cAy!\u201d says I, still speaking angrily; \u201care all your protestations and\nvows to be shaken by the dislike of the family? Did I not always object\nthat to you, and you made light thing of it, as what you were above,\nand would value; and is it come to this now?\u201d said I. \u201cIs this your\nfaith and honour, your love, and the solidity of your promises?\u201d\nHe continued perfectly calm, notwithstanding all my reproaches, and I\nwas not sparing of them at all; but he replied at last, \u201cMy dear, I\nhave not broken one promise with you yet; I did tell you I would marry\nyou when I was come to my estate; but you see my father is a hale,\nhealthy man, and may live these thirty years still, and not be older\nthan several are round us in town; and you never proposed my marrying\nyou sooner, because you knew it might be my ruin; and as to all the\nrest, I have not failed you in anything, you have wanted for nothing.\u201d\nI could not deny a word of this, and had nothing to say to it in\ngeneral. \u201cBut why, then,\u201d says I, \u201ccan you persuade me to such a horrid\nstep as leaving you, since you have not left me? Will you allow no\naffection, no love on my side, where there has been so much on your\nside? Have I made you no returns? Have I given no testimony of my\nsincerity and of my passion? Are the sacrifices I have made of honour\nand modesty to you no proof of my being tied to you in bonds too strong\nto be broken?\u201d\n\u201cBut here, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cyou may come into a safe station, and\nappear with honour and with splendour at once, and the remembrance of\nwhat we have done may be wrapt up in an eternal silence, as if it had\nnever happened; you shall always have my respect, and my sincere\naffection, only then it shall be honest, and perfectly just to my\nbrother; you shall be my dear sister, as now you are my dear\u2014\u2014\u201d and\nthere he stopped.\n\u201cYour dear whore,\u201d says I, \u201cyou would have said if you had gone on, and\nyou might as well have said it; but I understand you. However, I desire\nyou to remember the long discourses you have had with me, and the many\nhours\u2019 pains you have taken to persuade me to believe myself an honest\nwoman; that I was your wife intentionally, though not in the eyes of\nthe world, and that it was as effectual a marriage that had passed\nbetween us as if we had been publicly wedded by the parson of the\nparish. You know and cannot but remember that these have been your own\nwords to me.\u201d\nI found this was a little too close upon him, but I made it up in what\nfollows. He stood stock-still for a while and said nothing, and I went\non thus: \u201cYou cannot,\u201d says I, \u201cwithout the highest injustice, believe\nthat I yielded upon all these persuasions without a love not to be\nquestioned, not to be shaken again by anything that could happen\nafterward. If you have such dishonourable thoughts of me, I must ask\nyou what foundation in any of my behaviour have I given for such a\nsuggestion?\n\u201cIf, then, I have yielded to the importunities of my affection, and if\nI have been persuaded to believe that I am really, and in the essence\nof the thing, your wife, shall I now give the lie to all those\narguments and call myself your whore, or mistress, which is the same\nthing? And will you transfer me to your brother? Can you transfer my\naffection? Can you bid me cease loving you, and bid me love him? It is\nin my power, think you, to make such a change at demand? No, sir,\u201d said\nI, \u201cdepend upon it \u2019tis impossible, and whatever the change of your\nside may be, I will ever be true; and I had much rather, since it is\ncome that unhappy length, be your whore than your brother\u2019s wife.\u201d\nHe appeared pleased and touched with the impression of this last\ndiscourse, and told me that he stood where he did before; that he had\nnot been unfaithful to me in any one promise he had ever made yet, but\nthat there were so many terrible things presented themselves to his\nview in the affair before me, and that on my account in particular,\nthat he had thought of the other as a remedy so effectual as nothing\ncould come up to it. That he thought this would not be entire parting\nus, but we might love as friends all our days, and perhaps with more\nsatisfaction than we should in the station we were now in, as things\nmight happen; that he durst say, I could not apprehend anything from\nhim as to betraying a secret, which could not but be the destruction of\nus both, if it came out; that he had but one question to ask of me that\ncould lie in the way of it, and if that question was answered in the\nnegative, he could not but think still it was the only step I could\ntake.\nI guessed at his question presently, namely, whether I was sure I was\nnot with child? As to that, I told him he need not be concerned about\nit, for I was not with child. \u201cWhy, then, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cwe have\nno time to talk further now. Consider of it, and think closely about\nit; I cannot but be of the opinion still, that it will be the best\ncourse you can take.\u201d And with this he took his leave, and the more\nhastily too, his mother and sisters ringing at the gate, just at the\nmoment that he had risen up to go.\nHe left me in the utmost confusion of thought; and he easily perceived\nit the next day, and all the rest of the week, for it was but Tuesday\nevening when we talked; but he had no opportunity to come at me all\nthat week, till the Sunday after, when I, being indisposed, did not go\nto church, and he, making some excuse for the like, stayed at home.\nAnd now he had me an hour and a half again by myself, and we fell into\nthe same arguments all over again, or at least so near the same, as it\nwould be to no purpose to repeat them. At last I asked him warmly, what\nopinion he must have of my modesty, that he could suppose I should so\nmuch as entertain a thought of lying with two brothers, and assured him\nit could never be. I added, if he was to tell me that he would never\nsee me more, than which nothing but death could be more terrible, yet I\ncould never entertain a thought so dishonourable to myself, and so base\nto him; and therefore, I entreated him, if he had one grain of respect\nor affection left for me, that he would speak no more of it to me, or\nthat he would pull his sword out and kill me. He appeared surprised at\nmy obstinacy, as he called it; told me I was unkind to myself, and\nunkind to him in it; that it was a crisis unlooked for upon us both,\nand impossible for either of us to foresee, but that he did not see any\nother way to save us both from ruin, and therefore he thought it the\nmore unkind; but that if he must say no more of it to me, he added with\nan unusual coldness, that he did not know anything else we had to talk\nof; and so he rose up to take his leave. I rose up too, as if with the\nsame indifference; but when he came to give me as it were a parting\nkiss, I burst out into such a passion of crying, that though I would\nhave spoke, I could not, and only pressing his hand, seemed to give him\nthe adieu, but cried vehemently.\nHe was sensibly moved with this; so he sat down again, and said a great\nmany kind things to me, to abate the excess of my passion, but still\nurged the necessity of what he had proposed; all the while insisting,\nthat if I did refuse, he would notwithstanding provide for me; but\nletting me plainly see that he would decline me in the main point\u2014nay,\neven as a mistress; making it a point of honour not to lie with the\nwoman that, for aught he knew, might come to be his brother\u2019s wife.\nThe bare loss of him as a gallant was not so much my affliction as the\nloss of his person, whom indeed I loved to distraction; and the loss of\nall the expectations I had, and which I always had built my hopes upon,\nof having him one day for my husband. These things oppressed my mind so\nmuch, that, in short, I fell very ill; the agonies of my mind, in a\nword, threw me into a high fever, and long it was, that none in the\nfamily expected my life.\nI was reduced very low indeed, and was often delirious and\nlight-headed; but nothing lay so near me as the fear that, when I was\nlight-headed, I should say something or other to his prejudice. I was\ndistressed in my mind also to see him, and so he was to see me, for he\nreally loved me most passionately; but it could not be; there was not\nthe least room to desire it on one side or other, or so much as to make\nit decent.\nIt was near five weeks that I kept my bed and though the violence of my\nfever abated in three weeks, yet it several times returned; and the\nphysicians said two or three times, they could do no more for me, but\nthat they must leave nature and the distemper to fight it out, only\nstrengthening the first with cordials to maintain the struggle. After\nthe end of five weeks I grew better, but was so weak, so altered, so\nmelancholy, and recovered so slowly, that the physicians apprehended I\nshould go into a consumption; and which vexed me most, they gave it as\ntheir opinion that my mind was oppressed, that something troubled me,\nand, in short, that I was in love. Upon this, the whole house was set\nupon me to examine me, and to press me to tell whether I was in love or\nnot, and with whom; but as I well might, I denied my being in love at\nall.\nThey had on this occasion a squabble one day about me at table, that\nhad like to have put the whole family in an uproar, and for some time\ndid so. They happened to be all at table but the father; as for me, I\nwas ill, and in my chamber. At the beginning of the talk, which was\njust as they had finished their dinner, the old gentlewoman, who had\nsent me somewhat to eat, called her maid to go up and ask me if I would\nhave any more; but the maid brought down word I had not eaten half what\nshe had sent me already.\n\u201cAlas,\u201d says the old lady, \u201cthat poor girl! I am afraid she will never\nbe well.\u201d\n\u201cWell!\u201d says the elder brother, \u201chow should Mrs. Betty be well? They\nsay she is in love.\u201d\n\u201cI believe nothing of it,\u201d says the old gentlewoman.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d says the eldest sister, \u201cwhat to say to it; they have\nmade such a rout about her being so handsome, and so charming, and I\nknow not what, and that in her hearing too, that has turned the\ncreature\u2019s head, I believe, and who knows what possessions may follow\nsuch doings? For my part, I don\u2019t know what to make of it.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, sister, you must acknowledge she is very handsome,\u201d says the\nelder brother.\n\u201cAy, and a great deal handsomer than you, sister,\u201d says Robin, \u201cand\nthat\u2019s your mortification.\u201d\n\u201cWell, well, that is not the question,\u201d says his sister; \u201cthat girl is\nwell enough, and she knows it well enough; she need not be told of it\nto make her vain.\u201d\n\u201cWe are not talking of her being vain,\u201d says the elder brother, \u201cbut of\nher being in love; it may be she is in love with herself; it seems my\nsisters think so.\u201d\n\u201cI would she was in love with me,\u201d says Robin; \u201cI\u2019d quickly put her out\nof her pain.\u201d\n\u201cWhat d\u2019ye mean by that, son,\u201d says the old lady; \u201chow can you talk\nso?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, madam,\u201d says Robin, again, very honestly, \u201cdo you think I\u2019d let\nthe poor girl die for love, and of one that is near at hand to be had,\ntoo?\u201d\n\u201cFie, brother!\u201d, says the second sister, \u201chow can you talk so? Would\nyou take a creature that has not a groat in the world?\u201d\n\u201cPrithee, child,\u201d says Robin, \u201cbeauty\u2019s a portion, and good-humour with\nit is a double portion; I wish thou hadst half her stock of both for\nthy portion.\u201d So there was her mouth stopped.\n\u201cI find,\u201d says the eldest sister, \u201cif Betty is not in love, my brother\nis. I wonder he has not broke his mind to Betty; I warrant she won\u2019t\nsay No.\u201d\n\u201cThey that yield when they\u2019re asked,\u201d says Robin, \u201care one step before\nthem that were never asked to yield, sister, and two steps before them\nthat yield before they are asked; and that\u2019s an answer to you, sister.\u201d\nThis fired the sister, and she flew into a passion, and said, things\nwere come to that pass that it was time the wench, meaning me, was out\nof the family; and but that she was not fit to be turned out, she hoped\nher father and mother would consider of it as soon as she could be\nremoved.\nRobin replied, that was business for the master and mistress of the\nfamily, who where not to be taught by one that had so little judgment\nas his eldest sister.\nIt ran up a great deal farther; the sister scolded, Robin rallied and\nbantered, but poor Betty lost ground by it extremely in the family. I\nheard of it, and I cried heartily, and the old lady came up to me,\nsomebody having told her that I was so much concerned about it. I\ncomplained to her, that it was very hard the doctors should pass such a\ncensure upon me, for which they had no ground; and that it was still\nharder, considering the circumstances I was under in the family; that I\nhoped I had done nothing to lessen her esteem for me, or given any\noccasion for the bickering between her sons and daughters, and I had\nmore need to think of a coffin than of being in love, and begged she\nwould not let me suffer in her opinion for anybody\u2019s mistakes but my\nown.\nShe was sensible of the justice of what I said, but told me, since\nthere had been such a clamour among them, and that her younger son\ntalked after such a rattling way as he did, she desired I would be so\nfaithful to her as to answer her but one question sincerely. I told her\nI would, with all my heart, and with the utmost plainness and\nsincerity. Why, then, the question was, whether there was anything\nbetween her son Robert and me. I told her with all the protestations of\nsincerity that I was able to make, and as I might well, do, that there\nwas not, nor ever had been; I told her that Mr. Robert had rattled and\njested, as she knew it was his way, and that I took it always, as I\nsupposed he meant it, to be a wild airy way of discourse that had no\nsignification in it; and again assured her, that there was not the\nleast tittle of what she understood by it between us; and that those\nwho had suggested it had done me a great deal of wrong, and Mr. Robert\nno service at all.\nThe old lady was fully satisfied, and kissed me, spoke cheerfully to\nme, and bid me take care of my health and want for nothing, and so took\nher leave. But when she came down she found the brother and all his\nsisters together by the ears; they were angry, even to passion, at his\nupbraiding them with their being homely, and having never had any\nsweethearts, never having been asked the question, and their being so\nforward as almost to ask first. He rallied them upon the subject of\nMrs. Betty; how pretty, how good-humoured, how she sung better than\nthey did, and danced better, and how much handsomer she was; and in\ndoing this he omitted no ill-natured thing that could vex them, and\nindeed, pushed too hard upon them. The old lady came down in the height\nof it, and to put a stop it to, told them all the discourse she had had\nwith me, and how I answered, that there was nothing between Mr. Robert\nand I.\n\u201cShe\u2019s wrong there,\u201d says Robin, \u201cfor if there was not a great deal\nbetween us, we should be closer together than we are. I told her I\nloved her hugely,\u201d says he, \u201cbut I could never make the jade believe I\nwas in earnest.\u201d \u201cI do not know how you should,\u201d says his mother;\n\u201cnobody in their senses could believe you were in earnest, to talk so\nto a poor girl, whose circumstances you know so well.\n\u201cBut prithee, son,\u201d adds she, \u201csince you tell me that you could not\nmake her believe you were in earnest, what must we believe about it?\nFor you ramble so in your discourse, that nobody knows whether you are\nin earnest or in jest; but as I find the girl, by your own confession,\nhas answered truly, I wish you would do so too, and tell me seriously,\nso that I may depend upon it. Is there anything in it or no? Are you in\nearnest or no? Are you distracted, indeed, or are you not? \u2019Tis a\nweighty question, and I wish you would make us easy about it.\u201d\n\u201cBy my faith, madam,\u201d says Robin, \u201c\u2019tis in vain to mince the matter or\ntell any more lies about it; I am in earnest, as much as a man is\nthat\u2019s going to be hanged. If Mrs. Betty would say she loved me, and\nthat she would marry me, I\u2019d have her tomorrow morning fasting, and\nsay, \u2018To have and to hold,\u2019 instead of eating my breakfast.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says the mother, \u201cthen there\u2019s one son lost\u201d; and she said it\nin a very mournful tone, as one greatly concerned at it.\n\u201cI hope not, madam,\u201d says Robin; \u201cno man is lost when a good wife has\nfound him.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, but, child,\u201d says the old lady, \u201cshe is a beggar.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, then, madam, she has the more need of charity,\u201d says Robin; \u201cI\u2019ll\ntake her off the hands of the parish, and she and I\u2019ll beg together.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s bad jesting with such things,\u201d says the mother.\n\u201cI don\u2019t jest, madam,\u201d says Robin. \u201cWe\u2019ll come and beg your pardon,\nmadam; and your blessing, madam, and my father\u2019s.\u201d\n\u201cThis is all out of the way, son,\u201d says the mother. \u201cIf you are in\nearnest you are undone.\u201d\n\u201cI am afraid not,\u201d says he, \u201cfor I am really afraid she won\u2019t have me;\nafter all my sister\u2019s huffing and blustering, I believe I shall never\nbe able to persuade her to it.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s a fine tale, indeed; she is not so far out of her senses\nneither. Mrs. Betty is no fool,\u201d says the younger sister. \u201cDo you think\nshe has learnt to say No, any more than other people?\u201d\n\u201cNo, Mrs. Mirth-wit,\u201d says Robin, \u201cMrs. Betty\u2019s no fool; but Mrs. Betty\nmay be engaged some other way, and what then?\u201d\n\u201cNay,\u201d says the eldest sister, \u201cwe can say nothing to that. Who must it\nbe to, then? She is never out of the doors; it must be between you.\u201d\n\u201cI have nothing to say to that,\u201d says Robin. \u201cI have been examined\nenough; there\u2019s my brother. If it must be between us, go to work with\nhim.\u201d\nThis stung the elder brother to the quick, and he concluded that Robin\nhad discovered something. However, he kept himself from appearing\ndisturbed. \u201cPrithee,\u201d says he, \u201cdon\u2019t go to shame your stories off upon\nme; I tell you, I deal in no such ware; I have nothing to say to Mrs.\nBetty, nor to any of the Mrs. Bettys in the parish\u201d; and with that he\nrose up and brushed off.\n\u201cNo,\u201d says the eldest sister, \u201cI dare answer for my brother; he knows\nthe world better.\u201d\nThus the discourse ended, but it left the elder brother quite\nconfounded. He concluded his brother had made a full discovery, and he\nbegan to doubt whether I had been concerned in it or not; but with all\nhis management he could not bring it about to get at me. At last he was\nso perplexed that he was quite desperate, and resolved he would come\ninto my chamber and see me, whatever came of it. In order to do this,\nhe contrived it so, that one day after dinner, watching his eldest\nsister till he could see her go upstairs, he runs after her. \u201cHark ye,\nsister,\u201d says he, \u201cwhere is this sick woman? May not a body see her?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d says the sister, \u201cI believe you may; but let me go first a\nlittle, and I\u2019ll tell you.\u201d So she ran up to the door and gave me\nnotice, and presently called to him again. \u201cBrother,\u201d says she, \u201cyou\nmay come if you please.\u201d So in he came, just in the same kind of rant.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he at the door as he came in, \u201cwhere is this sick body\nthat\u2019s in love? How do ye do, Mrs. Betty?\u201d I would have got up out of\nmy chair, but was so weak I could not for a good while; and he saw it,\nand his sister too, and she said, \u201cCome, do not strive to stand up; my\nbrother desires no ceremony, especially now you are so weak.\u201d \u201cNo, no,\nMrs. Betty, pray sit still,\u201d says he, and so sits himself down in a\nchair over against me, and appeared as if he was mighty merry.\nHe talked a lot of rambling stuff to his sister and to me, sometimes of\none thing, sometimes of another, on purpose to amuse his sister, and\nevery now and then would turn it upon the old story, directing it to\nme. \u201cPoor Mrs. Betty,\u201d says he, \u201cit is a sad thing to be in love; why,\nit has reduced you sadly.\u201d At last I spoke a little. \u201cI am glad to see\nyou so merry, sir,\u201d says I; \u201cbut I think the doctor might have found\nsomething better to do than to make his game at his patients. If I had\nbeen ill of no other distemper, I know the proverb too well to have let\nhim come to me.\u201d \u201cWhat proverb?\u201d says he, \u201cOh! I remember it now. What\u2014\n\u201cWhere love is the case,\nThe doctor\u2019s an ass.\u201d\nIs not that it, Mrs. Betty?\u201d I smiled and said nothing. \u201cNay,\u201d says he,\n\u201cI think the effect has proved it to be love, for it seems the doctor\nhas been able to do you but little service; you mend very slowly, they\nsay. I doubt there\u2019s somewhat in it, Mrs. Betty; I doubt you are sick\nof the incurables, and that is love.\u201d I smiled and said, \u201cNo, indeed,\nsir, that\u2019s none of my distemper.\u201d\nWe had a deal of such discourse, and sometimes others that signified as\nlittle. By and by he asked me to sing them a song, at which I smiled,\nand said my singing days were over. At last he asked me if he should\nplay upon his flute to me; his sister said she believe it would hurt\nme, and that my head could not bear it. I bowed, and said, No, it would\nnot hurt me. \u201cAnd, pray, madam,\u201d said I, \u201cdo not hinder it; I love the\nmusic of the flute very much.\u201d Then his sister said, \u201cWell, do, then,\nbrother.\u201d With that he pulled out the key of his closet. \u201cDear sister,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cI am very lazy; do step to my closet and fetch my flute; it\nlies in such a drawer,\u201d naming a place where he was sure it was not,\nthat she might be a little while a-looking for it.\nAs soon as she was gone, he related the whole story to me of the\ndiscourse his brother had about me, and of his pushing it at him, and\nhis concern about it, which was the reason of his contriving this visit\nto me. I assured him I had never opened my mouth either to his brother\nor to anybody else. I told him the dreadful exigence I was in; that my\nlove to him, and his offering to have me forget that affection and\nremove it to another, had thrown me down; and that I had a thousand\ntimes wished I might die rather than recover, and to have the same\ncircumstances to struggle with as I had before, and that his\nbackwardness to life had been the great reason of the slowness of my\nrecovering. I added that I foresaw that as soon as I was well, I must\nquit the family, and that as for marrying his brother, I abhorred the\nthoughts of it after what had been my case with him, and that he might\ndepend upon it I would never see his brother again upon that subject;\nthat if he would break all his vows and oaths and engagements with me,\nbe that between his conscience and his honour and himself; but he\nshould never be able to say that I, whom he had persuaded to call\nmyself his wife, and who had given him the liberty to use me as a wife,\nwas not as faithful to him as a wife ought to be, whatever he might be\nto me.\nHe was going to reply, and had said that he was sorry I could not be\npersuaded, and was a-going to say more, but he heard his sister\na-coming, and so did I; and yet I forced out these few words as a\nreply, that I could never be persuaded to love one brother and marry\nanother. He shook his head and said, \u201cThen I am ruined,\u201d meaning\nhimself; and that moment his sister entered the room and told him she\ncould not find the flute. \u201cWell,\u201d says he merrily, \u201cthis laziness won\u2019t\ndo\u201d; so he gets up and goes himself to go to look for it, but comes\nback without it too; not but that he could have found it, but because\nhis mind was a little disturbed, and he had no mind to play; and,\nbesides, the errand he sent his sister on was answered another way; for\nhe only wanted an opportunity to speak to me, which he gained, though\nnot much to his satisfaction.\nI had, however, a great deal of satisfaction in having spoken my mind\nto him with freedom, and with such an honest plainness, as I have\nrelated; and though it did not at all work the way I desired, that is\nto say, to oblige the person to me the more, yet it took from him all\npossibility of quitting me but by a downright breach of honour, and\ngiving up all the faith of a gentleman to me, which he had so often\nengaged by, never to abandon me, but to make me his wife as soon as he\ncame to his estate.\nIt was not many weeks after this before I was about the house again,\nand began to grow well; but I continued melancholy, silent, dull, and\nretired, which amazed the whole family, except he that knew the reason\nof it; yet it was a great while before he took any notice of it, and I,\nas backward to speak as he, carried respectfully to him, but never\noffered to speak a word to him that was particular of any kind\nwhatsoever; and this continued for sixteen or seventeen weeks; so that,\nas I expected every day to be dismissed the family, on account of what\ndistaste they had taken another way, in which I had no guilt, so I\nexpected to hear no more of this gentleman, after all his solemn vows\nand protestations, but to be ruined and abandoned.\nAt last I broke the way myself in the family for my removing; for being\ntalking seriously with the old lady one day, about my own circumstances\nin the world, and how my distemper had left a heaviness upon my\nspirits, that I was not the same thing I was before, the old lady said,\n\u201cI am afraid, Betty, what I have said to you about my son has had some\ninfluence upon you, and that you are melancholy on his account; pray,\nwill you let me know how the matter stands with you both, if it may not\nbe improper? For, as for Robin, he does nothing but rally and banter\nwhen I speak of it to him.\u201d \u201cWhy, truly, madam,\u201d said I, \u201cthat matter\nstands as I wish it did not, and I shall be very sincere with you in\nit, whatever befalls me for it. Mr. Robert has several times proposed\nmarriage to me, which is what I had no reason to expect, my poor\ncircumstances considered; but I have always resisted him, and that\nperhaps in terms more positive than became me, considering the regard\nthat I ought to have for every branch of your family; but,\u201d said I,\n\u201cmadam, I could never so far forget my obligation to you and all your\nhouse, to offer to consent to a thing which I know must needs be\ndisobliging to you, and this I have made my argument to him, and have\npositively told him that I would never entertain a thought of that kind\nunless I had your consent, and his father\u2019s also, to whom I was bound\nby so many invincible obligations.\u201d\n\u201cAnd is this possible, Mrs. Betty?\u201d says the old lady. \u201cThen you have\nbeen much juster to us than we have been to you; for we have all looked\nupon you as a kind of snare to my son, and I had a proposal to make to\nyou for your removing, for fear of it; but I had not yet mentioned it\nto you, because I thought you were not thorough well, and I was afraid\nof grieving you too much, lest it should throw you down again; for we\nhave all a respect for you still, though not so much as to have it be\nthe ruin of my son; but if it be as you say, we have all wronged you\nvery much.\u201d\n\u201cAs to the truth of what I say, madam,\u201d said I, \u201crefer you to your son\nhimself; if he will do me any justice, he must tell you the story just\nas I have told it.\u201d\nAway goes the old lady to her daughters and tells them the whole story,\njust as I had told it her; and they were surprised at it, you may be\nsure, as I believed they would be. One said she could never have\nthought it; another said Robin was a fool; a third said she would not\nbelieve a word of it, and she would warrant that Robin would tell the\nstory another way. But the old gentlewoman, who was resolved to go to\nthe bottom of it before I could have the least opportunity of\nacquainting her son with what had passed, resolved too that she would\ntalk with her son immediately, and to that purpose sent for him, for he\nwas gone but to a lawyer\u2019s house in the town, upon some petty business\nof his own, and upon her sending he returned immediately.\nUpon his coming up to them, for they were all still together, \u201cSit\ndown, Robin,\u201d says the old lady, \u201cI must have some talk with you.\u201d\n\u201cWith all my heart, madam,\u201d says Robin, looking very merry. \u201cI hope it\nis about a good wife, for I am at a great loss in that affair.\u201d \u201cHow\ncan that be?\u201d says his mother; \u201cdid not you say you resolved to have\nMrs. Betty?\u201d \u201cAy, madam,\u201d says Robin, \u201cbut there is one has forbid the\nbanns.\u201d \u201cForbid, the banns!\u201d says his mother; \u201cwho can that be?\u201d \u201cEven\nMrs. Betty herself,\u201d says Robin. \u201cHow so?\u201d says his mother. \u201cHave you\nasked her the question, then?\u201d \u201cYes, indeed, madam,\u201d says Robin. \u201cI\nhave attacked her in form five times since she was sick, and am beaten\noff; the jade is so stout she won\u2019t capitulate nor yield upon any\nterms, except such as I cannot effectually grant.\u201d \u201cExplain yourself,\u201d\nsays the mother, \u201cfor I am surprised; I do not understand you. I hope\nyou are not in earnest.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, madam,\u201d says he, \u201cthe case is plain enough upon me, it explains\nitself; she won\u2019t have me, she says; is not that plain enough? I think\n\u2019tis plain, and pretty rough too.\u201d \u201cWell, but,\u201d says the mother, \u201cyou\ntalk of conditions that you cannot grant; what does she want\u2014a\nsettlement? Her jointure ought to be according to her portion; but what\nfortune does she bring you?\u201d \u201cNay, as to fortune,\u201d says Robin, \u201cshe is\nrich enough; I am satisfied in that point; but \u2019tis I that am not able\nto come up to her terms, and she is positive she will not have me\nwithout.\u201d\nHere the sisters put in. \u201cMadam,\u201d says the second sister, \u201c\u2019tis\nimpossible to be serious with him; he will never give a direct answer\nto anything; you had better let him alone, and talk no more of it to\nhim; you know how to dispose of her out of his way if you thought there\nwas anything in it.\u201d Robin was a little warmed with his sister\u2019s\nrudeness, but he was even with her, and yet with good manners too.\n\u201cThere are two sorts of people, madam,\u201d says he, turning to his mother,\n\u201cthat there is no contending with; that is, a wise body and a fool;\n\u2019tis a little hard I should engage with both of them together.\u201d\nThe younger sister then put in. \u201cWe must be fools indeed,\u201d says she,\n\u201cin my brother\u2019s opinion, that he should think we can believe he has\nseriously asked Mrs. Betty to marry him, and that she has refused him.\u201d\n\u201cAnswer, and answer not, say Solomon,\u201d replied her brother. \u201cWhen your\nbrother had said to your mother that he had asked her no less than five\ntimes, and that it was so, that she positively denied him, methinks a\nyounger sister need not question the truth of it when her mother did\nnot.\u201d \u201cMy mother, you see, did not understand it,\u201d says the second\nsister. \u201cThere\u2019s some difference,\u201d says Robin, \u201cbetween desiring me to\nexplain it, and telling me she did not believe it.\u201d\n\u201cWell, but, son,\u201d says the old lady, \u201cif you are disposed to let us\ninto the mystery of it, what were these hard conditions?\u201d \u201cYes, madam,\u201d\nsays Robin, \u201cI had done it before now, if the teasers here had not\nworried me by way of interruption. The conditions are, that I bring my\nfather and you to consent to it, and without that she protests she will\nnever see me more upon that head; and to these conditions, as I said, I\nsuppose I shall never be able to grant. I hope my warm sisters will be\nanswered now, and blush a little; if not, I have no more to say till I\nhear further.\u201d\nThis answer was surprising to them all, though less to the mother,\nbecause of what I had said to her. As to the daughters, they stood mute\na great while; but the mother said with some passion, \u201cWell, I had\nheard this before, but I could not believe it; but if it is so, then we\nhave all done Betty wrong, and she has behaved better than I ever\nexpected.\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d says the eldest sister, \u201cif it be so, she has acted\nhandsomely indeed.\u201d \u201cI confess,\u201d says the mother, \u201cit was none of her\nfault, if he was fool enough to take a fancy to her; but to give such\nan answer to him, shows more respect to your father and me than I can\ntell how to express; I shall value the girl the better for it as long\nas I know her.\u201d \u201cBut I shall not,\u201d says Robin, \u201cunless you will give\nyour consent.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll consider of that a while,\u201d says the mother; \u201cI\nassure you, if there were not some other objections in the way, this\nconduct of hers would go a great way to bring me to consent.\u201d \u201cI wish\nit would go quite through it,\u201d says Robin; \u201cif you had as much thought\nabout making me easy as you have about making me rich, you would soon\nconsent to it.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, Robin,\u201d says the mother again, \u201care you really in earnest? Would\nyou so fain have her as you pretend?\u201d \u201cReally, madam,\u201d says Robin, \u201cI\nthink \u2019tis hard you should question me upon that head after all I have\nsaid. I won\u2019t say that I will have her; how can I resolve that point,\nwhen you see I cannot have her without your consent? Besides, I am not\nbound to marry at all. But this I will say, I am in earnest in, that I\nwill never have anybody else if I can help it; so you may determine for\nme. Betty or nobody is the word, and the question which of the two\nshall be in your breast to decide, madam, provided only, that my\ngood-humoured sisters here may have no vote in it.\u201d\nAll this was dreadful to me, for the mother began to yield, and Robin\npressed her home on it. On the other hand, she advised with the eldest\nson, and he used all the arguments in the world to persuade her to\nconsent; alleging his brother\u2019s passionate love for me, and my generous\nregard to the family, in refusing my own advantages upon such a nice\npoint of honour, and a thousand such things. And as to the father, he\nwas a man in a hurry of public affairs and getting money, seldom at\nhome, thoughtful of the main chance, but left all those things to his\nwife.\nYou may easily believe, that when the plot was thus, as they thought,\nbroke out, and that every one thought they knew how things were\ncarried, it was not so difficult or so dangerous for the elder brother,\nwhom nobody suspected of anything, to have a freer access to me than\nbefore; nay, the mother, which was just as he wished, proposed it to\nhim to talk with Mrs. Betty. \u201cFor it may be, son,\u201d said she, \u201cyou may\nsee farther into the thing than I, and see if you think she has been so\npositive as Robin says she has been, or no.\u201d This was as well as he\ncould wish, and he, as it were, yielding to talk with me at his\nmother\u2019s request, she brought me to him into her own chamber, told me\nher son had some business with me at her request, and desired me to be\nvery sincere with him, and then she left us together, and he went and\nshut the door after her.\nHe came back to me and took me in his arms, and kissed me very\ntenderly; but told me he had a long discourse to hold with me, and it\nwas not come to that crisis, that I should make myself happy or\nmiserable as long as I lived; that the thing was now gone so far, that\nif I could not comply with his desire, we would both be ruined. Then he\ntold the whole story between Robin, as he called him, and his mother\nand sisters and himself, as it is above. \u201cAnd now, dear child,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cconsider what it will be to marry a gentleman of a good family, in\ngood circumstances, and with the consent of the whole house, and to\nenjoy all that the world can give you; and what, on the other hand, to\nbe sunk into the dark circumstances of a woman that has lost her\nreputation; and that though I shall be a private friend to you while I\nlive, yet as I shall be suspected always, so you will be afraid to see\nme, and I shall be afraid to own you.\u201d\nHe gave me no time to reply, but went on with me thus: \u201cWhat has\nhappened between us, child, so long as we both agree to do so, may be\nburied and forgotten. I shall always be your sincere friend, without\nany inclination to nearer intimacy, when you become my sister; and we\nshall have all the honest part of conversation without any reproaches\nbetween us of having done amiss. I beg of you to consider it, and to\nnot stand in the way of your own safety and prosperity; and to satisfy\nyou that I am sincere,\u201d added he, \u201cI here offer you \u00a3500 in money, to\nmake you some amends for the freedoms I have taken with you, which we\nshall look upon as some of the follies of our lives, which \u2019tis hoped\nwe may repent of.\u201d\nHe spoke this in so much more moving terms than it is possible for me\nto express, and with so much greater force of argument than I can\nrepeat, that I only recommend it to those who read the story, to\nsuppose, that as he held me above an hour and a half in that discourse,\nso he answered all my objections, and fortified his discourse with all\nthe arguments that human wit and art could devise.\nI cannot say, however, that anything he said made impression enough\nupon me so as to give me any thought of the matter, till he told me at\nlast very plainly, that if I refused, he was sorry to add that he could\nnever go on with me in that station as we stood before; that though he\nloved me as well as ever, and that I was as agreeable to him as ever,\nyet sense of virtue had not so far forsaken him as to suffer him to lie\nwith a woman that his brother courted to make his wife; and if he took\nhis leave of me, with a denial in this affair, whatever he might do for\nme in the point of support, grounded on his first engagement of\nmaintaining me, yet he would not have me be surprised that he was\nobliged to tell me he could not allow himself to see me any more; and\nthat, indeed, I could not expect it of him.\nI received this last part with some token of surprise and disorder, and\nhad much ado to avoid sinking down, for indeed I loved him to an\nextravagance not easy to imagine; but he perceived my disorder. He\nentreated me to consider seriously of it; assured me that it was the\nonly way to preserve our mutual affection; that in this station we\nmight love as friends, with the utmost passion, and with a love of\nrelation untainted, free from our just reproaches, and free from other\npeople\u2019s suspicions; that he should ever acknowledge his happiness\nowing to me; that he would be debtor to me as long as he lived, and\nwould be paying that debt as long as he had breath. Thus he wrought me\nup, in short, to a kind of hesitation in the matter; having the dangers\non one side represented in lively figures, and indeed, heightened by my\nimagination of being turned out to the wide world a mere cast-off\nwhore, for it was no less, and perhaps exposed as such, with little to\nprovide for myself, with no friend, no acquaintance in the whole world,\nout of that town, and there I could not pretend to stay. All this\nterrified me to the last degree, and he took care upon all occasions to\nlay it home to me in the worst colours that it could be possible to be\ndrawn in. On the other hand, he failed not to set forth the easy,\nprosperous life which I was going to live.\nHe answered all that I could object from affection, and from former\nengagements, with telling me the necessity that was before us of taking\nother measures now; and as to his promises of marriage, the nature of\nthings, he said, had put an end to that, by the probability of my being\nhis brother\u2019s wife, before the time to which his promises all referred.\nThus, in a word, I may say, he reasoned me out of my reason; he\nconquered all my arguments, and I began to see a danger that I was in,\nwhich I had not considered of before, and that was, of being dropped by\nboth of them and left alone in the world to shift for myself.\nThis, and his persuasion, at length prevailed with me to consent,\nthough with so much reluctance, that it was easy to see I should go to\nchurch like a bear to the stake. I had some little apprehensions about\nme, too, lest my new spouse, who, by the way, I had not the least\naffection for, should be skillful enough to challenge me on another\naccount, upon our first coming to bed together. But whether he did it\nwith design or not, I know not, but his elder brother took care to make\nhim very much fuddled before he went to bed, so that I had the\nsatisfaction of a drunken bedfellow the first night. How he did it I\nknow not, but I concluded that he certainly contrived it, that his\nbrother might be able to make no judgment of the difference between a\nmaid and a married woman; nor did he ever entertain any notions of it,\nor disturb his thoughts about it.\nI should go back a little here to where I left off. The elder brother\nhaving thus managed me, his next business was to manage his mother, and\nhe never left till he had brought her to acquiesce and be passive in\nthe thing, even without acquainting the father, other than by post\nletters; so that she consented to our marrying privately, and leaving\nher to manage the father afterwards.\nThen he cajoled with his brother, and persuaded him what service he had\ndone him, and how he had brought his mother to consent, which, though\ntrue, was not indeed done to serve him, but to serve himself; but thus\ndiligently did he cheat him, and had the thanks of a faithful friend\nfor shifting off his whore into his brother\u2019s arms for a wife. So\ncertainly does interest banish all manner of affection, and so\nnaturally do men give up honour and justice, humanity, and even\nChristianity, to secure themselves.\nI must now come back to brother Robin, as we always called him, who\nhaving got his mother\u2019s consent, as above, came big with the news to\nme, and told me the whole story of it, with a sincerity so visible,\nthat I must confess it grieved me that I must be the instrument to\nabuse so honest a gentleman. But there was no remedy; he would have me,\nand I was not obliged to tell him that I was his brother\u2019s whore,\nthough I had no other way to put him off; so I came gradually into it,\nto his satisfaction, and behold we were married.\nModesty forbids me to reveal the secrets of the marriage-bed, but\nnothing could have happened more suitable to my circumstances than\nthat, as above, my husband was so fuddled when he came to bed, that he\ncould not remember in the morning whether he had had any conversation\nwith me or no, and I was obliged to tell him he had, though in reality\nhe had not, that I might be sure he could make to inquiry about\nanything else.\nIt concerns the story in hand very little to enter into the further\nparticulars of the family, or of myself, for the five years that I\nlived with this husband, only to observe that I had two children by\nhim, and that at the end of five years he died. He had been really a\nvery good husband to me, and we lived very agreeably together; but as\nhe had not received much from them, and had in the little time he lived\nacquired no great matters, so my circumstances were not great, nor was\nI much mended by the match. Indeed, I had preserved the elder brother\u2019s\nbonds to me, to pay \u00a3500, which he offered me for my consent to marry\nhis brother; and this, with what I had saved of the money he formerly\ngave me, about as much more by my husband, left me a widow with about\n\u00a31200 in my pocket.\nMy two children were, indeed, taken happily off my hands by my\nhusband\u2019s father and mother, and that, by the way, was all they got by\nMrs. Betty.\nI confess I was not suitably affected with the loss of my husband, nor\nindeed can I say that I ever loved him as I ought to have done, or as\nwas proportionable to the good usage I had from him, for he was a\ntender, kind, good-humoured man as any woman could desire; but his\nbrother being so always in my sight, at least while we were in the\ncountry, was a continual snare to me, and I never was in bed with my\nhusband but I wished myself in the arms of his brother; and though his\nbrother never offered me the least kindness that way after our\nmarriage, but carried it just as a brother ought to do, yet it was\nimpossible for me to do so to him; in short, I committed adultery and\nincest with him every day in my desires, which, without doubt, was as\neffectually criminal in the nature of the guilt as if I had actually\ndone it.\nBefore my husband died his elder brother was married, and we, being\nthen removed to London, were written to by the old lady to come and be\nat the wedding. My husband went, but I pretended indisposition, and\nthat I could not possibly travel, so I stayed behind; for, in short, I\ncould not bear the sight of his being given to another woman, though I\nknew I was never to have him myself.\nI was now, as above, left loose to the world, and being still young and\nhandsome, as everybody said of me, and I assure you I thought myself\nso, and with a tolerable fortune in my pocket, I put no small value\nupon myself. I was courted by several very considerable tradesmen, and\nparticularly very warmly by one, a linen-draper, at whose house, after\nmy husband\u2019s death, I took a lodging, his sister being my acquaintance.\nHere I had all the liberty and all the opportunity to be gay and appear\nin company that I could desire, my landlord\u2019s sister being one of the\nmaddest, gayest things alive, and not so much mistress of her virtue as\nI thought at first she had been. She brought me into a world of wild\ncompany, and even brought home several persons, such as she liked well\nenough to gratify, to see her pretty widow, so she was pleased to call\nme, and that name I got in a little time in public. Now, as fame and\nfools make an assembly, I was here wonderfully caressed, had abundance\nof admirers, and such as called themselves lovers; but I found not one\nfair proposal among them all. As for their common design, that I\nunderstood too well to be drawn into any more snares of that kind. The\ncase was altered with me: I had money in my pocket, and had nothing to\nsay to them. I had been tricked once by that cheat called love, but the\ngame was over; I was resolved now to be married or nothing, and to be\nwell married or not at all.\nI loved the company, indeed, of men of mirth and wit, men of gallantry\nand figure, and was often entertained with such, as I was also with\nothers; but I found by just observation, that the brightest men came\nupon the dullest errand\u2014that is to say, the dullest as to what I aimed\nat. On the other hand, those who came with the best proposals were the\ndullest and most disagreeable part of the world. I was not averse to a\ntradesman, but then I would have a tradesman, forsooth, that was\nsomething of a gentleman too; that when my husband had a mind to carry\nme to the court, or to the play, he might become a sword, and look as\nlike a gentleman as another man; and not be one that had the mark of\nhis apron-strings upon his coat, or the mark of his hat upon his\nperiwig; that should look as if he was set on to his sword, when his\nsword was put on to him, and that carried his trade in his countenance.\nWell, at last I found this amphibious creature, this land-water thing\ncalled a gentleman-tradesman; and as a just plague upon my folly, I was\ncatched in the very snare which, as I might say, I laid for myself. I\nsaid for myself, for I was not trepanned, I confess, but I betrayed\nmyself.\nThis was a draper, too, for though my comrade would have brought me to\na bargain with her brother, yet when it came to the point, it was, it\nseems, for a mistress, not a wife; and I kept true to this notion, that\na woman should never be kept for a mistress that had money to keep\nherself.\nThus my pride, not my principle, my money, not my virtue, kept me\nhonest; though, as it proved, I found I had much better have been sold\nby my she-comrade to her brother, than have sold myself as I did to a\ntradesman that was rake, gentleman, shopkeeper, and beggar, all\ntogether.\nBut I was hurried on (by my fancy to a gentleman) to ruin myself in the\ngrossest manner that every woman did; for my new husband coming to a\nlump of money at once, fell into such a profusion of expense, that all\nI had, and all he had before, if he had anything worth mentioning,\nwould not have held it out above one year.\nHe was very fond of me for about a quarter of a year, and what I got by\nthat was, that I had the pleasure of seeing a great deal of my money\nspent upon myself, and, as I may say, had some of the spending it too.\n\u201cCome, my dear,\u201d says he to me one day, \u201cshall we go and take a turn\ninto the country for about a week?\u201d \u201cAy, my dear,\u201d says I, \u201cwhither\nwould you go?\u201d \u201cI care not whither,\u201d says he, \u201cbut I have a mind to\nlook like quality for a week. We\u2019ll go to Oxford,\u201d says he. \u201cHow,\u201d says\nI, \u201cshall we go? I am no horsewoman, and \u2019tis too far for a coach.\u201d\n\u201cToo far!\u201d says he; \u201cno place is too far for a coach-and-six. If I\ncarry you out, you shall travel like a duchess.\u201d \u201cHum,\u201d says I, \u201cmy\ndear, \u2019tis a frolic; but if you have a mind to it, I don\u2019t care.\u201d Well,\nthe time was appointed, we had a rich coach, very good horses, a\ncoachman, postillion, and two footmen in very good liveries; a\ngentleman on horseback, and a page with a feather in his hat upon\nanother horse. The servants all called him my lord, and the\ninn-keepers, you may be sure, did the like, and I was her honour the\nCountess, and thus we traveled to Oxford, and a very pleasant journey\nwe had; for, give him his due, not a beggar alive knew better how to be\na lord than my husband. We saw all the rarities at Oxford, talked with\ntwo or three Fellows of colleges about putting out a young nephew, that\nwas left to his lordship\u2019s care, to the University, and of their being\nhis tutors. We diverted ourselves with bantering several other poor\nscholars, with hopes of being at least his lordship\u2019s chaplains and\nputting on a scarf; and thus having lived like quality indeed, as to\nexpense, we went away for Northampton, and, in a word, in about twelve\ndays\u2019 ramble came home again, to the tune of about \u00a393 expense.\nVanity is the perfection of a fop. My husband had this excellence, that\nhe valued nothing of expense; and as his history, you may be sure, has\nvery little weight in it, \u2019tis enough to tell you that in about two\nyears and a quarter he broke, and was not so happy to get over into the\nMint, but got into a sponging-house, being arrested in an action too\nheavy from him to give bail to, so he sent for me to come to him.\nIt was no surprise to me, for I had foreseen some time that all was\ngoing to wreck, and had been taking care to reserve something if I\ncould, though it was not much, for myself. But when he sent for me, he\nbehaved much better than I expected, and told me plainly he had played\nthe fool, and suffered himself to be surprised, which he might have\nprevented; that now he foresaw he could not stand it, and therefore he\nwould have me go home, and in the night take away everything I had in\nthe house of any value, and secure it; and after that, he told me that\nif I could get away one hundred or two hundred pounds in goods out of\nthe shop, I should do it; \u201conly,\u201d says he, \u201clet me know nothing of it,\nneither what you take nor whither you carry it; for as for me,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cI am resolved to get out of this house and be gone; and if you\nnever hear of me more, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cI wish you well; I am only\nsorry for the injury I have done you.\u201d He said some very handsome\nthings to me indeed at parting; for I told you he was a gentleman, and\nthat was all the benefit I had of his being so; that he used me very\nhandsomely and with good manners upon all occasions, even to the last,\nonly spent all I had, and left me to rob the creditors for something to\nsubsist on.\nHowever, I did as he bade me, that you may be sure; and having thus\ntaken my leave of him, I never saw him more, for he found means to\nbreak out of the bailiff\u2019s house that night or the next, and go over\ninto France, and for the rest of the creditors scrambled for it as well\nas they could. How, I knew not, for I could come at no knowledge of\nanything, more than this, that he came home about three o\u2019clock in the\nmorning, caused the rest of his goods to be removed into the Mint, and\nthe shop to be shut up; and having raised what money he could get\ntogether, he got over, as I said, to France, from whence I had one or\ntwo letters from him, and no more. I did not see him when he came home,\nfor he having given me such instructions as above, and I having made\nthe best of my time, I had no more business back again at the house,\nnot knowing but I might have been stopped there by the creditors; for a\ncommission of bankrupt being soon after issued, they might have stopped\nme by orders from the commissioners. But my husband, having so\ndexterously got out of the bailiff\u2019s house by letting himself down in a\nmost desperate manner from almost the top of the house to the top of\nanother building, and leaping from thence, which was almost two\nstoreys, and which was enough indeed to have broken his neck, he came\nhome and got away his goods before the creditors could come to seize;\nthat is to say, before they could get out the commission, and be ready\nto send their officers to take possession.\nMy husband was so civil to me, for still I say he was much of a\ngentleman, that in the first letter he wrote me from France, he let me\nknow where he had pawned twenty pieces of fine holland for \u00a330, which\nwere really worth \u00a390, and enclosed me the token and an order for the\ntaking them up, paying the money, which I did, and made in time above\n\u00a3100 of them, having leisure to cut them and sell them, some and some,\nto private families, as opportunity offered.\nHowever, with all this, and all that I had secured before, I found,\nupon casting things up, my case was very much altered, any my fortune\nmuch lessened; for, including the hollands and a parcel of fine\nmuslins, which I carried off before, and some plate, and other things,\nI found I could hardly muster up \u00a3500; and my condition was very odd,\nfor though I had no child (I had had one by my gentleman draper, but it\nwas buried), yet I was a widow bewitched; I had a husband and no\nhusband, and I could not pretend to marry again, though I knew well\nenough my husband would never see England any more, if he lived fifty\nyears. Thus, I say, I was limited from marriage, what offer might\nsoever be made me; and I had not one friend to advise with in the\ncondition I was in, least not one I durst trust the secret of my\ncircumstances to, for if the commissioners were to have been informed\nwhere I was, I should have been fetched up and examined upon oath, and\nall I have saved be taken away from me.\nUpon these apprehensions, the first thing I did was to go quite out of\nmy knowledge, and go by another name. This I did effectually, for I\nwent into the Mint too, took lodgings in a very private place, dressed\nup in the habit of a widow, and called myself Mrs. Flanders.\nHere, however, I concealed myself, and though my new acquaintances knew\nnothing of me, yet I soon got a great deal of company about me; and\nwhether it be that women are scarce among the sorts of people that\ngenerally are to be found there, or that some consolations in the\nmiseries of the place are more requisite than on other occasions, I\nsoon found an agreeable woman was exceedingly valuable among the sons\nof affliction there, and that those that wanted money to pay half a\ncrown on the pound to their creditors, and that run in debt at the sign\nof the Bull for their dinners, would yet find money for a supper, if\nthey liked the woman.\nHowever, I kept myself safe yet, though I began, like my Lord\nRochester\u2019s mistress, that loved his company, but would not admit him\nfarther, to have the scandal of a whore, without the joy; and upon this\nscore, tired with the place, and indeed with the company too, I began\nto think of removing.\nIt was indeed a subject of strange reflection to me to see men who were\noverwhelmed in perplexed circumstances, who were reduced some degrees\nbelow being ruined, whose families were objects of their own terror and\nother people\u2019s charity, yet while a penny lasted, nay, even beyond it,\nendeavouring to drown themselves, labouring to forget former things,\nwhich now it was the proper time to remember, making more work for\nrepentance, and sinning on, as a remedy for sin past.\nBut it is none of my talent to preach; these men were too wicked, even\nfor me. There was something horrid and absurd in their way of sinning,\nfor it was all a force even upon themselves; they did not only act\nagainst conscience, but against nature; they put a rape upon their\ntemper to drown the reflections, which their circumstances continually\ngave them; and nothing was more easy than to see how sighs would\ninterrupt their songs, and paleness and anguish sit upon their brows,\nin spite of the forced smiles they put on; nay, sometimes it would\nbreak out at their very mouths when they had parted with their money\nfor a lewd treat or a wicked embrace. I have heard them, turning about,\nfetch a deep sigh, and cry, \u201cWhat a dog am I! Well, Betty, my dear,\nI\u2019ll drink thy health, though\u201d; meaning the honest wife, that perhaps\nhad not a half-crown for herself and three or four children. The next\nmorning they are at their penitentials again; and perhaps the poor\nweeping wife comes over to him, either brings him some account of what\nhis creditors are doing, and how she and the children are turned out of\ndoors, or some other dreadful news; and this adds to his\nself-reproaches; but when he has thought and pored on it till he is\nalmost mad, having no principles to support him, nothing within him or\nabove him to comfort him, but finding it all darkness on every side, he\nflies to the same relief again, viz. to drink it away, debauch it away,\nand falling into company of men in just the same condition with\nhimself, he repeats the crime, and thus he goes every day one step\nonward of his way to destruction.\nI was not wicked enough for such fellows as these yet. On the contrary,\nI began to consider here very seriously what I had to do; how things\nstood with me, and what course I ought to take. I knew I had no\nfriends, no, not one friend or relation in the world; and that little I\nhad left apparently wasted, which when it was gone, I saw nothing but\nmisery and starving was before me. Upon these considerations, I say,\nand filled with horror at the place I was in, and the dreadful objects\nwhich I had always before me, I resolved to be gone.\nI had made an acquaintance with a very sober, good sort of a woman, who\nwas a widow too, like me, but in better circumstances. Her husband had\nbeen a captain of a merchant ship, and having had the misfortune to be\ncast away coming home on a voyage from the West Indies, which would\nhave been very profitable if he had come safe, was so reduced by the\nloss, that though he had saved his life then, it broke his heart, and\nkilled him afterwards; and his widow, being pursued by the creditors,\nwas forced to take shelter in the Mint. She soon made things up with\nthe help of friends, and was at liberty again; and finding that I\nrather was there to be concealed, than by any particular prosecutions\nand finding also that I agreed with her, or rather she with me, in a\njust abhorrence of the place and of the company, she invited to go home\nwith her till I could put myself in some posture of settling in the\nworld to my mind; withal telling me, that it was ten to one but some\ngood captain of a ship might take a fancy to me, and court me, in that\npart of the town where she lived.\nI accepted her offer, and was with her half a year, and should have\nbeen longer, but in that interval what she proposed to me happened to\nherself, and she married very much to her advantage. But whose fortune\nsoever was upon the increase, mine seemed to be upon the wane, and I\nfound nothing present, except two or three boatswains, or such fellows,\nbut as for the commanders, they were generally of two sorts: 1. Such\nas, having good business, that is to say, a good ship, resolved not to\nmarry but with advantage, that is, with a good fortune; 2. Such as,\nbeing out of employ, wanted a wife to help them to a ship; I mean (1) a\nwife who, having some money, could enable them to hold, as they call\nit, a good part of a ship themselves, so to encourage owners to come\nin; or (2) a wife who, if she had not money, had friends who were\nconcerned in shipping, and so could help to put the young man into a\ngood ship, which to them is as good as a portion; and neither of these\nwas my case, so I looked like one that was to lie on hand.\nThis knowledge I soon learned by experience, viz. that the state of\nthings was altered as to matrimony, and that I was not to expect at\nLondon what I had found in the country: that marriages were here the\nconsequences of politic schemes for forming interests, and carrying on\nbusiness, and that Love had no share, or but very little, in the\nmatter.\nThat as my sister-in-law at Colchester had said, beauty, wit, manners,\nsense, good humour, good behaviour, education, virtue, piety, or any\nother qualification, whether of body or mind, had no power to\nrecommend; that money only made a woman agreeable; that men chose\nmistresses indeed by the gust of their affection, and it was requisite\nto a whore to be handsome, well-shaped, have a good mien and a graceful\nbehaviour; but that for a wife, no deformity would shock the fancy, no\nill qualities the judgment; the money was the thing; the portion was\nneither crooked nor monstrous, but the money was always agreeable,\nwhatever the wife was.\nOn the other hand, as the market ran very unhappily on the men\u2019s side,\nI found the women had lost the privilege of saying No; that it was a\nfavour now for a woman to have the Question asked, and if any young\nlady had so much arrogance as to counterfeit a negative, she never had\nthe opportunity given her of denying twice, much less of recovering\nthat false step, and accepting what she had but seemed to decline. The\nmen had such choice everywhere, that the case of the women was very\nunhappy; for they seemed to ply at every door, and if the man was by\ngreat chance refused at one house, he was sure to be received at the\nnext.\nBesides this, I observed that the men made no scruple to set themselves\nout, and to go a-fortunehunting, as they call it, when they had really\nno fortune themselves to demand it, or merit to deserve it; and that\nthey carried it so high, that a woman was scarce allowed to inquire\nafter the character or estate of the person that pretended to her. This\nI had an example of, in a young lady in the next house to me, and with\nwhom I had contracted an intimacy; she was courted by a young captain,\nand though she had near \u00a32000 to her fortune, she did but inquire of\nsome of his neighbours about his character, his morals, or substance,\nand he took occasion at the next visit to let her know, truly, that he\ntook it very ill, and that he should not give her the trouble of his\nvisits any more. I heard of it, and I had begun my acquaintance with\nher, I went to see her upon it. She entered into a close conversation\nwith me about it, and unbosomed herself very freely. I perceived\npresently that though she thought herself very ill used, yet she had no\npower to resent it, and was exceedingly piqued that she had lost him,\nand particularly that another of less fortune had gained him.\nI fortified her mind against such a meanness, as I called it; I told\nher, that as low as I was in the world, I would have despised a man\nthat should think I ought to take him upon his own recommendation only,\nwithout having the liberty to inform myself of his fortune and of his\ncharacter; also I told her, that as she had a good fortune, she had no\nneed to stoop to the disaster of the time; that it was enough that the\nmen could insult us that had but little money to recommend us, but if\nshe suffered such an affront to pass upon her without resenting it, she\nwould be rendered low-prized upon all occasions, and would be the\ncontempt of all the women in that part of the town; that a woman can\nnever want an opportunity to be revenged of a man that has used her\nill, and that there were ways enough to humble such a fellow as that,\nor else certainly women were the most unhappy creatures in the world.\nI found she was very well pleased with the discourse, and she told me\nseriously that she would be very glad to make him sensible of her just\nresentment, and either to bring him on again, or have the satisfaction\nof her revenge being as public as possible.\nI told her, that if she would take my advice, I would tell her how she\nshould obtain her wishes in both these things; and that I would engage\nto bring the man to her door again, and make him beg to be let in. She\nsmiled at that, and plainly let me see, that if he came to her door,\nher resentment was not so great as to give her leave to let him stand\nlong there.\nHowever, she listened very willingly to my offer of advice; so I told\nher that the first thing she ought to do was a piece of justice to\nherself, namely, that whereas she had been told by several people that\nhe had reported among the ladies that he had left her, and pretended to\ngive the advantage of the negative to himself, she should take care to\nhave it well spread among the women\u2014which she could not fail of an\nopportunity to do in a neighbourhood so addicted to family news as that\nshe live in was\u2014that she had inquired into his circumstances, and found\nhe was not the man as to estate he pretended to be. \u201cLet them be told,\nmadam,\u201d said I, \u201cthat you had been well informed that he was not the\nman that you expected, and that you thought it was not safe to meddle\nwith him; that you heard he was of an ill temper, and that he boasted\nhow he had used the women ill upon many occasions, and that\nparticularly he was debauched in his morals\u201d, etc. The last of which,\nindeed, had some truth in it; but at the same time I did not find that\nshe seemed to like him much the worse for that part.\nAs I had put this into her head, she came most readily into it.\nImmediately she went to work to find instruments, and she had very\nlittle difficulty in the search, for telling her story in general to a\ncouple of gossips in the neighbourhood, it was the chat of the\ntea-table all over that part of the town, and I met with it wherever I\nvisited; also, as it was known that I was acquainted with the young\nlady herself, my opinion was asked very often, and I confirmed it with\nall the necessary aggravations, and set out his character in the\nblackest colours; but then as a piece of secret intelligence, I added,\nas what the other gossips knew nothing of, viz. that I had heard he was\nin very bad circumstances; that he was under a necessity of a fortune\nto support his interest with the owners of the ship he commanded; that\nhis own part was not paid for, and if it was not paid quickly, his\nowners would put him out of the ship, and his chief mate was likely to\ncommand it, who offered to buy that part which the captain had promised\nto take.\nI added, for I confess I was heartily piqued at the rogue, as I called\nhim, that I had heard a rumour, too, that he had a wife alive at\nPlymouth, and another in the West Indies, a thing which they all knew\nwas not very uncommon for such kind of gentlemen.\nThis worked as we both desire it, for presently the young lady next\ndoor, who had a father and mother that governed both her and her\nfortune, was shut up, and her father forbid him the house. Also in one\nplace more where he went, the woman had the courage, however strange it\nwas, to say No; and he could try nowhere but he was reproached with his\npride, and that he pretended not to give the women leave to inquire\ninto his character, and the like.\nWell, by this time he began to be sensible of his mistake; and having\nalarmed all the women on that side of the water, he went over to\nRatcliff, and got access to some of the ladies there; but though the\nyoung women there too were, according to the fate of the day, pretty\nwilling to be asked, yet such was his ill-luck, that his character\nfollowed him over the water and his good name was much the same there\nas it was on our side; so that though he might have had wives enough,\nyet it did not happen among the women that had good fortunes, which was\nwhat he wanted.\nBut this was not all; she very ingeniously managed another thing\nherself, for she got a young gentleman, who as a relation, and was\nindeed a married man, to come and visit her two or three times a week\nin a very fine chariot and good liveries, and her two agents, and I\nalso, presently spread a report all over, that this gentleman came to\ncourt her; that he was a gentleman of a \u00a31000 a year, and that he was\nfallen in love with her, and that she was going to her aunt\u2019s in the\ncity, because it was inconvenient for the gentleman to come to her with\nhis coach in Redriff, the streets being so narrow and difficult.\nThis took immediately. The captain was laughed at in all companies, and\nwas ready to hang himself. He tried all the ways possible to come at\nher again, and wrote the most passionate letters to her in the world,\nexcusing his former rashness; and in short, by great application,\nobtained leave to wait on her again, as he said, to clear his\nreputation.\nAt this meeting she had her full revenge of him; for she told him she\nwondered what he took her to be, that she should admit any man to a\ntreaty of so much consequence as that to marriage, without inquiring\nvery well into his circumstances; that if he thought she was to be\nhuffed into wedlock, and that she was in the same circumstances which\nher neighbours might be in, viz. to take up with the first good\nChristian that came, he was mistaken; that, in a word, his character\nwas really bad, or he was very ill beholden to his neighbours; and that\nunless he could clear up some points, in which she had justly been\nprejudiced, she had no more to say to him, but to do herself justice,\nand give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was not afraid to say\nNo, either to him or any man else.\nWith that she told him what she had heard, or rather raised herself by\nmy means, of his character; his not having paid for the part he\npretended to own of the ship he commanded; of the resolution of his\nowners to put him out of the command, and to put his mate in his stead;\nand of the scandal raised on his morals; his having been reproached\nwith such-and-such women, and having a wife at Plymouth and in the West\nIndies, and the like; and she asked him whether he could deny that she\nhad good reason, if these things were not cleared up, to refuse him,\nand in the meantime to insist upon having satisfaction in points to\nsignificant as they were.\nHe was so confounded at her discourse that he could not answer a word,\nand she almost began to believe that all was true, by his disorder,\nthough at the same time she knew that she had been the raiser of all\nthose reports herself.\nAfter some time he recovered himself a little, and from that time\nbecame the most humble, the most modest, and most importunate man alive\nin his courtship.\nShe carried her jest on a great way. She asked him, if he thought she\nwas so at her last shift that she could or ought to bear such\ntreatment, and if he did not see that she did not want those who\nthought it worth their while to come farther to her than he did;\nmeaning the gentleman whom she had brought to visit her by way of sham.\nShe brought him by these tricks to submit to all possible measures to\nsatisfy her, as well of his circumstances as of his behaviour. He\nbrought her undeniable evidence of his having paid for his part of the\nship; he brought her certificates from his owners, that the report of\ntheir intending to remove him from the command of the ship and put his\nchief mate in was false and groundless; in short, he was quite the\nreverse of what he was before.\nThus I convinced her, that if the men made their advantage of our sex\nin the affair of marriage, upon the supposition of there being such\nchoice to be had, and of the women being so easy, it was only owing to\nthis, that the women wanted courage to maintain their ground and to\nplay their part; and that, according to my Lord Rochester,\n\u201cA woman\u2019s ne\u2019er so ruined but she can\nRevenge herself on her undoer, Man.\u201d\nAfter these things this young lady played her part so well, that though\nshe resolved to have him, and that indeed having him was the main bent\nof her design, yet she made his obtaining her be to him the most\ndifficult thing in the world; and this she did, not by a haughty\nreserved carriage, but by a just policy, turning the tables upon him,\nand playing back upon him his own game; for as he pretended, by a kind\nof lofty carriage, to place himself above the occasion of a character,\nand to make inquiring into his character a kind of an affront to him,\nshe broke with him upon that subject, and at the same time that she\nmake him submit to all possible inquiry after his affairs, she\napparently shut the door against his looking into her own.\nIt was enough to him to obtain her for a wife. As to what she had, she\ntold him plainly, that as he knew her circumstances, it was but just\nshe should know his; and though at the same time he had only known her\ncircumstances by common fame, yet he had made so many protestations of\nhis passion for her, that he could ask no more but her hand to his\ngrand request, and the like ramble according to the custom of lovers.\nIn short, he left himself no room to ask any more questions about her\nestate, and she took the advantage of it like a prudent woman, for she\nplaced part of her fortune so in trustees, without letting him know\nanything of it, that it was quite out of his reach, and made him be\nvery well content with the rest.\nIt is true she was pretty well besides, that is to say, she had about\n\u00a31400 in money, which she gave him; and the other, after some time, she\nbrought to light as a perquisite to herself, which he was to accept as\na mighty favour, seeing though it was not to be his, it might ease him\nin the article of her particular expenses; and I must add, that by this\nconduct the gentleman himself became not only the more humble in his\napplications to her to obtain her, but also was much the more an\nobliging husband to her when he had her. I cannot but remind the ladies\nhere how much they place themselves below the common station of a wife,\nwhich, if I may be allowed not to be partial, is low enough already; I\nsay, they place themselves below their common station, and prepare\ntheir own mortifications, by their submitting so to be insulted by the\nmen beforehand, which I confess I see no necessity of.\nThis relation may serve, therefore, to let the ladies see that the\nadvantage is not so much on the other side as the men think it is; and\nthough it may be true that the men have but too much choice among us,\nand that some women may be found who will dishonour themselves, be\ncheap, and easy to come at, and will scarce wait to be asked, yet if\nthey will have women, as I may say, worth having, they may find them as\nuncomeatable as ever and that those that are otherwise are a sort of\npeople that have such deficiencies, when had, as rather recommend the\nladies that are difficult than encourage the men to go on with their\neasy courtship, and expect wives equally valuable that will come at\nfirst call.\nNothing is more certain than that the ladies always gain of the men by\nkeeping their ground, and letting their pretended lovers see they can\nresent being slighted, and that they are not afraid of saying No. They,\nI observe, insult us mightily with telling us of the number of women;\nthat the wars, and the sea, and trade, and other incidents have carried\nthe men so much away, that there is no proportion between the numbers\nof the sexes, and therefore the women have the disadvantage; but I am\nfar from granting that the number of women is so great, or the number\nof men so small; but if they will have me tell the truth, the\ndisadvantage of the women is a terrible scandal upon the men, and it\nlies here, and here only; namely, that the age is so wicked, and the\nsex so debauched, that, in short, the number of such men as an honest\nwoman ought to meddle with is small indeed, and it is but here and\nthere that a man is to be found who is fit for a woman to venture upon.\nBut the consequence even of that too amounts to no more than this, that\nwomen ought to be the more nice; for how do we know the just character\nof the man that makes the offer? To say that the woman should be the\nmore easy on this occasion, is to say we should be the forwarder to\nventure because of the greatness of the danger, which, in my way of\nreasoning, is very absurd.\nOn the contrary, the women have ten thousand times the more reason to\nbe wary and backward, by how much the hazard of being betrayed is the\ngreater; and would the ladies consider this, and act the wary part,\nthey would discover every cheat that offered; for, in short, the lives\nof very few men nowadays will bear a character; and if the ladies do\nbut make a little inquiry, they will soon be able to distinguish the\nmen and deliver themselves. As for women that do not think their own\nsafety worth their thought, that, impatient of their perfect state,\nresolve, as they call it, to take the first good Christian that comes,\nthat run into matrimony as a horse rushes into the battle, I can say\nnothing to them but this, that they are a sort of ladies that are to be\nprayed for among the rest of distempered people, and to me they look\nlike people that venture their whole estates in a lottery where there\nis a hundred thousand blanks to one prize.\nNo man of common-sense will value a woman the less for not giving up\nherself at the first attack, or for accepting his proposal without\ninquiring into his person or character; on the contrary, he must think\nher the weakest of all creatures in the world, as the rate of men now\ngoes. In short, he must have a very contemptible opinion of her\ncapacities, nay, every of her understanding, that, having but one case\nof her life, shall call that life away at once, and make matrimony,\nlike death, be a leap in the dark.\nI would fain have the conduct of my sex a little regulated in this\nparticular, which is the thing in which, of all the parts of life, I\nthink at this time we suffer most in; \u2019tis nothing but lack of courage,\nthe fear of not being married at all, and of that frightful state of\nlife called an old maid, of which I have a story to tell by itself.\nThis, I say, is the woman\u2019s snare; but would the ladies once but get\nabove that fear and manage rightly, they would more certainly avoid it\nby standing their ground, in a case so absolutely necessary to their\nfelicity, that by exposing themselves as they do; and if they did not\nmarry so soon as they may do otherwise, they would make themselves\namends by marrying safer. She is always married too soon who gets a bad\nhusband, and she is never married too late who gets a good one; in a\nword, there is no woman, deformity or lost reputation excepted, but if\nshe manages well, may be married safely one time or other; but if she\nprecipitates herself, it is ten thousand to one but she is undone.\nBut I come now to my own case, in which there was at this time no\nlittle nicety. The circumstances I was in made the offer of a good\nhusband the most necessary thing in the world to me, but I found soon\nthat to be made cheap and easy was not the way. It soon began to be\nfound that the widow had no fortune, and to say this was to say all\nthat was ill of me, for I began to be dropped in all the discourses of\nmatrimony. Being well-bred, handsome, witty, modest, and agreeable; all\nwhich I had allowed to my character\u2014whether justly or no is not the\npurpose\u2014I say, all these would not do without the dross, which way now\nbecome more valuable than virtue itself. In short, the widow, they\nsaid, had no money.\nI resolved, therefore, as to the state of my present circumstances,\nthat it was absolutely necessary to change my station, and make a new\nappearance in some other place where I was not known, and even to pass\nby another name if I found occasion.\nI communicated my thoughts to my intimate friend, the captain\u2019s lady,\nwhom I had so faithfully served in her case with the captain, and who\nwas as ready to serve me in the same kind as I could desire. I made no\nscruple to lay my circumstances open to her; my stock was but low, for\nI had made but about \u00a3540 at the close of my last affair, and I had\nwasted some of that; however, I had about \u00a3460 left, a great many very\nrich clothes, a gold watch, and some jewels, though of no extraordinary\nvalue, and about \u00a330 or \u00a340 left in linen not disposed of.\nMy dear and faithful friend, the captain\u2019s wife, was so sensible of the\nservice I had done her in the affair above, that she was not only a\nsteady friend to me, but, knowing my circumstances, she frequently made\nme presents as money came into her hands, such as fully amounted to a\nmaintenance, so that I spent none of my own; and at last she made this\nunhappy proposal to me, viz. that as we had observed, as above, how the\nmen made no scruple to set themselves out as persons meriting a woman\nof fortune, when they had really no fortune of their own, it was but\njust to deal with them in their own way and, if it was possible, to\ndeceive the deceiver.\nThe captain\u2019s lady, in short, put this project into my head, and told\nme if I would be ruled by her I should certainly get a husband of\nfortune, without leaving him any room to reproach me with want of my\nown. I told her, as I had reason to do, that I would give up myself\nwholly to her directions, and that I would have neither tongue to speak\nnor feet to step in that affair but as she should direct me, depending\nthat she would extricate me out of every difficulty she brought me\ninto, which she said she would answer for.\nThe first step she put me upon was to call her cousin, and go to a\nrelation\u2019s house of hers in the country, where she directed me, and\nwhere she brought her husband to visit me; and calling me cousin, she\nworked matters so about, that her husband and she together invited me\nmost passionately to come to town and be with them, for they now live\nin a quite different place from where they were before. In the next\nplace, she tells her husband that I had at least \u00a31500 fortune, and\nthat after some of my relations I was like to have a great deal more.\nIt was enough to tell her husband this; there needed nothing on my\nside. I was but to sit still and wait the event, for it presently went\nall over the neighbourhood that the young widow at Captain \u2014\u2014\u2019s was a\nfortune, that she had at least \u00a31500, and perhaps a great deal more,\nand that the captain said so; and if the captain was asked at any time\nabout me, he made no scruple to affirm it, though he knew not one word\nof the matter, other than that his wife had told him so; and in this he\nthought no harm, for he really believed it to be so, because he had it\nfrom his wife: so slender a foundation will those fellows build upon,\nif they do but think there is a fortune in the game. With the\nreputation of this fortune, I presently found myself blessed with\nadmirers enough, and that I had my choice of men, as scarce as they\nsaid they were, which, by the way, confirms what I was saying before.\nThis being my case, I, who had a subtle game to play, had nothing now\nto do but to single out from them all the properest man that might be\nfor my purpose; that is to say, the man who was most likely to depend\nupon the hearsay of a fortune, and not inquire too far into the\nparticulars; and unless I did this I did nothing, for my case would not\nbear much inquiry.\nI picked out my man without much difficulty, by the judgment I made of\nhis way of courting me. I had let him run on with his protestations and\noaths that he loved me above all the world; that if I would make him\nhappy, that was enough; all which I knew was upon supposition, nay, it\nwas upon a full satisfaction, that I was very rich, though I never told\nhim a word of it myself.\nThis was my man; but I was to try him to the bottom, and indeed in that\nconsisted my safety; for if he baulked, I knew I was undone, as surely\nas he was undone if he took me; and if I did not make some scruple\nabout his fortune, it was the way to lead him to raise some about mine;\nand first, therefore, I pretended on all occasions to doubt his\nsincerity, and told him, perhaps he only courted me for my fortune. He\nstopped my mouth in that part with the thunder of his protestations, as\nabove, but still I pretended to doubt.\nOne morning he pulls off his diamond ring, and writes upon the glass of\nthe sash in my chamber this line\u2014\n\u201cYou I love, and you alone.\u201d\nI read it, and asked him to lend me his ring, with which I wrote under\nit, thus\u2014\n\u201cAnd so in love says every one.\u201d\nHe takes his ring again, and writes another line thus\u2014\n\u201cVirtue alone is an estate.\u201d\nI borrowed it again, and I wrote under it\u2014\n\u201cBut money\u2019s virtue, gold is fate.\u201d\nHe coloured as red as fire to see me turn so quick upon him, and in a\nkind of a rage told me he would conquer me, and writes again thus\u2014\n\u201cI scorn your gold, and yet I love.\u201d\nI ventured all upon the last cast of poetry, as you\u2019ll see, for I wrote\nboldly under his last\u2014\n\u201cI\u2019m poor: let\u2019s see how kind you\u2019ll prove.\u201d\nThis was a sad truth to me; whether he believed me or no, I could not\ntell; I supposed then that he did not. However, he flew to me, took me\nin his arms, and, kissing me very eagerly, and with the greatest\npassion imaginable, he held me fast till he called for a pen and ink,\nand then told me he could not wait the tedious writing on the glass,\nbut, pulling out a piece of paper, he began and wrote again\u2014\n\u201cBe mine, with all your poverty.\u201d\nI took his pen, and followed him immediately, thus\u2014\n\u201cYet secretly you hope I lie.\u201d\nHe told me that was unkind, because it was not just, and that I put him\nupon contradicting me, which did not consist with good manners, any\nmore than with his affection; and therefore, since I had insensibly\ndrawn him into this poetical scribble, he begged I would not oblige him\nto break it off; so he writes again\u2014\n\u201cLet love alone be our debate.\u201d\nI wrote again\u2014\n\u201cShe loves enough that does not hate.\u201d\nThis he took for a favour, and so laid down the cudgels, that is to\nsay, the pen; I say, he took if for a favour, and a mighty one it was,\nif he had known all. However, he took it as I meant it, that is, to let\nhim think I was inclined to go on with him, as indeed I had all the\nreason in the world to do, for he was the best-humoured, merry sort of\na fellow that I ever met with, and I often reflected on myself how\ndoubly criminal it was to deceive such a man; but that necessity, which\npressed me to a settlement suitable to my condition, was my authority\nfor it; and certainly his affection to me, and the goodness of his\ntemper, however they might argue against using him ill, yet they\nstrongly argued to me that he would better take the disappointment than\nsome fiery-tempered wretch, who might have nothing to recommend him but\nthose passions which would serve only to make a woman miserable all her\ndays.\nBesides, though I jested with him (as he supposed it) so often about my\npoverty, yet, when he found it to be true, he had foreclosed all manner\nof objection, seeing, whether he was in jest or in earnest, he had\ndeclared he took me without any regard to my portion, and, whether I\nwas in jest or in earnest, I had declared myself to be very poor; so\nthat, in a word, I had him fast both ways; and though he might say\nafterwards he was cheated, yet he could never say that I had cheated\nhim.\nHe pursued me close after this, and as I saw there was no need to fear\nlosing him, I played the indifferent part with him longer than prudence\nmight otherwise have dictated to me. But I considered how much this\ncaution and indifference would give me the advantage over him, when I\nshould come to be under the necessity of owning my own circumstances to\nhim; and I managed it the more warily, because I found he inferred from\nthence, as indeed he ought to do, that I either had the more money or\nthe more judgment, and would not venture at all.\nI took the freedom one day, after we had talked pretty close to the\nsubject, to tell him that it was true I had received the compliment of\na lover from him, namely, that he would take me without inquiring into\nmy fortune, and I would make him a suitable return in this, viz. that I\nwould make as little inquiry into his as consisted with reason, but I\nhoped he would allow me to ask a few questions, which he would answer\nor not as he thought fit; and that I would not be offended if he did\nnot answer me at all; one of these questions related to our manner of\nliving, and the place where, because I had heard he had a great\nplantation in Virginia, and that he had talked of going to live there,\nand I told him I did not care to be transported.\nHe began from this discourse to let me voluntarily into all his\naffairs, and to tell me in a frank, open way all his circumstances, by\nwhich I found he was very well to pass in the world; but that great\npart of his estate consisted of three plantations, which he had in\nVirginia, which brought him in a very good income, generally speaking,\nto the tune of \u00a3300, a year, but that if he was to live upon them,\nwould bring him in four times as much. \u201cVery well,\u201d thought I; \u201cyou\nshall carry me thither as soon as you please, though I won\u2019t tell you\nso beforehand.\u201d\nI jested with him extremely about the figure he would make in Virginia;\nbut I found he would do anything I desired, though he did not seem glad\nto have me undervalue his plantations, so I turned my tale. I told him\nI had good reason not to go there to live, because if his plantations\nwere worth so much there, I had not a fortune suitable to a gentleman\nof \u00a31200 a year, as he said his estate would be.\nHe replied generously, he did not ask what my fortune was; he had told\nme from the beginning he would not, and he would be as good as his\nword; but whatever it was, he assured me he would never desire me to go\nto Virginia with him, or go thither himself without me, unless I was\nperfectly willing, and made it my choice.\nAll this, you may be sure, was as I wished, and indeed nothing could\nhave happened more perfectly agreeable. I carried it on as far as this\nwith a sort of indifferency that he often wondered at, more than at\nfirst, but which was the only support of his courtship; and I mention\nit the rather to intimate again to the ladies that nothing but want of\ncourage for such an indifferency makes our sex so cheap, and prepares\nthem to be ill-used as they are; would they venture the loss of a\npretending fop now and then, who carries it high upon the point of his\nown merit, they would certainly be less slighted, and courted more. Had\nI discovered really and truly what my great fortune was, and that in\nall I had not full \u00a3500 when he expected \u00a31500, yet I had hooked him so\nfast, and played him so long, that I was satisfied he would have had me\nin my worst circumstances; and indeed it was less a surprise to him\nwhen he learned the truth than it would have been, because having not\nthe least blame to lay on me, who had carried it with an air of\nindifference to the last, he would not say one word, except that indeed\nhe thought it had been more, but that if it had been less he did not\nrepent his bargain; only that he should not be able to maintain me so\nwell as he intended.\nIn short, we were married, and very happily married on my side, I\nassure you, as to the man; for he was the best-humoured man that every\nwoman had, but his circumstances were not so good as I imagined, as, on\nthe other hand, he had not bettered himself by marrying so much as he\nexpected.\nWhen we were married, I was shrewdly put to it to bring him that little\nstock I had, and to let him see it was no more; but there was a\nnecessity for it, so I took my opportunity one day when we were alone,\nto enter into a short dialogue with him about it. \u201cMy dear,\u201d said I,\n\u201cwe have been married a fortnight; is it not time to let you know\nwhether you have got a wife with something or with nothing?\u201d \u201cYour own\ntime for that, my dear,\u201d says he; \u201cI am satisfied that I have got the\nwife I love; I have not troubled you much,\u201d says he, \u201cwith my inquiry\nafter it.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d says I, \u201cbut I have a great difficulty upon me about it,\nwhich I scarce know how to manage.\u201d\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that, my dear?\u201d says he.\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201c\u2019tis a little hard upon me, and \u2019tis harder upon you. I\nam told that Captain \u2014\u2014\u201d (meaning my friend\u2019s husband) \u201chas told you I\nhad a great deal more money than I ever pretended to have, and I am\nsure I never employed him to do so.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cCaptain \u2014\u2014 may have told me so, but what then? If you\nhave not so much, that may lie at his door, but you never told me what\nyou had, so I have no reason to blame you if you have nothing at all.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s is so just,\u201d said I, \u201cand so generous, that it makes my having\nbut a little a double affliction to me.\u201d\n\u201cThe less you have, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cthe worse for us both; but I\nhope your affliction you speak of is not caused for fear I should be\nunkind to you, for want of a portion. No, no, if you have nothing, tell\nme plainly, and at once; I may perhaps tell the captain he has cheated\nme, but I can never say you have cheated me, for did you not give it\nunder your hand that you were poor? and so I ought to expect you to\nbe.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cmy dear, I am glad I have not been concerned in\ndeceiving you before marriage. If I deceive you since, \u2019tis ne\u2019er the\nworse; that I am poor is too true, but not so poor as to have nothing\nneither\u201d; so I pulled out some bank bills, and gave him about \u00a3160.\n\u201cThere\u2019s something, my dear,\u201d said I, \u201cand not quite all neither.\u201d\nI had brought him so near to expecting nothing, by what I had said\nbefore, that the money, though the sum was small in itself, was doubly\nwelcome to him; he owned it was more than he looked for, and that he\ndid not question by my discourse to him, but that my fine clothes, gold\nwatch, and a diamond ring or two, had been all my fortune.\nI let him please himself with that \u00a3160 two or three days, and then,\nhaving been abroad that day, and as if I had been to fetch it, I\nbrought him \u00a3100 more home in gold, and told him there was a little\nmore portion for him; and, in short, in about a week more I brought him\n\u00a3180 more, and about \u00a360 in linen, which I made him believe I had been\nobliged to take with the \u00a3100 which I gave him in gold, as a\ncomposition for a debt of \u00a3600, being little more than five shillings\nin the pound, and overvalued too.\n\u201cAnd now, my dear,\u201d says I to him, \u201cI am very sorry to tell you, that\nthere is all, and that I have given you my whole fortune.\u201d I added,\nthat if the person who had my \u00a3600 had not abused me, I had been worth\n\u00a31000 to him, but that as it was, I had been faithful to him, and\nreserved nothing to myself, but if it had been more he should have had\nit.\nHe was so obliged by the manner, and so pleased with the sum, for he\nhad been in a terrible fright lest it had been nothing at all, that he\naccepted it very thankfully. And thus I got over the fraud of passing\nfor a fortune without money, and cheating a man into marrying me on\npretence of a fortune; which, by the way, I take to be one of the most\ndangerous steps a woman can take, and in which she runs the most hazard\nof being ill-used afterwards.\nMy husband, to give him his due, was a man of infinite good nature, but\nhe was no fool; and finding his income not suited to the manner of\nliving which he had intended, if I had brought him what he expected,\nand being under a disappointment in his return of his plantations in\nVirginia, he discovered many times his inclination of going over to\nVirginia, to live upon his own; and often would be magnifying the way\nof living there, how cheap, how plentiful, how pleasant, and the like.\nI began presently to understand this meaning, and I took him up very\nplainly one morning, and told him that I did so; that I found his\nestate turned to no account at this distance, compared to what it would\ndo if he lived upon the spot, and that I found he had a mind to go and\nlive there; and I added, that I was sensible he had been disappointed\nin a wife, and that finding his expectations not answered that way, I\ncould do no less, to make him amends, than tell him that I was very\nwilling to go over to Virginia with him and live there.\nHe said a thousand kind things to me upon the subject of my making such\na proposal to him. He told me, that however he was disappointed in his\nexpectations of a fortune, he was not disappointed in a wife, and that\nI was all to him that a wife could be, and he was more than satisfied\non the whole when the particulars were put together, but that this\noffer was so kind, that it was more than he could express.\nTo bring the story short, we agreed to go. He told me that he had a\nvery good house there, that it was well furnished, that his mother was\nalive and lived in it, and one sister, which was all the relations he\nhad; that as soon as he came there, his mother would remove to another\nhouse, which was her own for life, and his after her decease; so that I\nshould have all the house to myself; and I found all this to be exactly\nas he had said.\nTo make this part of the story short, we put on board the ship which we\nwent in, a large quantity of good furniture for our house, with stores\nof linen and other necessaries, and a good cargo for sale, and away we\nwent.\nTo give an account of the manner of our voyage, which was long and full\nof dangers, is out of my way; I kept no journal, neither did my\nhusband. All that I can say is, that after a terrible passage, frighted\ntwice with dreadful storms, and once with what was still more terrible,\nI mean a pirate who came on board and took away almost all our\nprovisions; and which would have been beyond all to me, they had once\ntaken my husband to go along with them, but by entreaties were\nprevailed with to leave him;\u2014I say, after all these terrible things, we\narrived in York River in Virginia, and coming to our plantation, we\nwere received with all the demonstrations of tenderness and affection,\nby my husband\u2019s mother, that were possible to be expressed.\nWe lived here all together, my mother-in-law, at my entreaty,\ncontinuing in the house, for she was too kind a mother to be parted\nwith; my husband likewise continued the same as at first, and I thought\nmyself the happiest creature alive, when an odd and surprising event\nput an end to all that felicity in a moment, and rendered my condition\nthe most uncomfortable, if not the most miserable, in the world.\nMy mother was a mighty cheerful, good-humoured old woman\u2014I may call her\nold woman, for her son was above thirty; I say she was very pleasant,\ngood company, and used to entertain me, in particular, with abundance\nof stories to divert me, as well of the country we were in as of the\npeople.\nAmong the rest, she often told me how the greatest part of the\ninhabitants of the colony came thither in very indifferent\ncircumstances from England; that, generally speaking, they were of two\nsorts; either, first, such as were brought over by masters of ships to\nbe sold as servants. \u201cSuch as we call them, my dear,\u201d says she, \u201cbut\nthey are more properly called slaves.\u201d Or, secondly, such as are\ntransported from Newgate and other prisons, after having been found\nguilty of felony and other crimes punishable with death.\n\u201cWhen they come here,\u201d says she, \u201cwe make no difference; the planters\nbuy them, and they work together in the field till their time is out.\nWhen \u2019tis expired,\u201d said she, \u201cthey have encouragement given them to\nplant for themselves; for they have a certain number of acres of land\nallotted them by the country, and they go to work to clear and cure the\nland, and then to plant it with tobacco and corn for their own use; and\nas the tradesmen and merchants will trust them with tools and clothes\nand other necessaries, upon the credit of their crop before it is\ngrown, so they again plant every year a little more than the year\nbefore, and so buy whatever they want with the crop that is before\nthem.\n\u201cHence, child,\u201d says she, \u201cman a Newgate-bird becomes a great man, and\nwe have,\u201d continued she, \u201cseveral justices of the peace, officers of\nthe trained bands, and magistrates of the towns they live in, that have\nbeen burnt in the hand.\u201d\nShe was going on with that part of the story, when her own part in it\ninterrupted her, and with a great deal of good-humoured confidence she\ntold me she was one of the second sort of inhabitants herself; that she\ncame away openly, having ventured too far in a particular case, so that\nshe was become a criminal. \u201cAnd here\u2019s the mark of it, child,\u201d says\nshe; and, pulling off her glove, \u201clook ye here,\u201d says she, turning up\nthe palm of her hand, and showed me a very fine white arm and hand, but\nbranded in the inside of the hand, as in such cases it must be.\nThis story was very moving to me, but my mother, smiling, said, \u201cYou\nneed not think a thing strange, daughter, for as I told you, some of\nthe best men in this country are burnt in the hand, and they are not\nashamed to own it. There\u2019s Major \u2014\u2014,\u201d says she, \u201che was an eminent\npickpocket; there\u2019s Justice Ba\u2014\u2014r, was a shoplifter, and both of them\nwere burnt in the hand; and I could name you several such as they are.\u201d\nWe had frequent discourses of this kind, and abundance of instances she\ngave me of the like. After some time, as she was telling some stories\nof one that was transported but a few weeks ago, I began in an intimate\nkind of way to ask her to tell me something of her own story, which she\ndid with the utmost plainness and sincerity; how she had fallen into\nvery ill company in London in her young days, occasioned by her mother\nsending her frequently to carry victuals and other relief to a\nkinswoman of hers who was a prisoner in Newgate, and who lay in a\nmiserable starving condition, was afterwards condemned to be hanged,\nbut having got respite by pleading her belly, dies afterwards in the\nprison.\nHere my mother-in-law ran out in a long account of the wicked practices\nin that dreadful place, and how it ruined more young people than all\nthe town besides. \u201cAnd child,\u201d says my mother, \u201cperhaps you may know\nlittle of it, or, it may be, have heard nothing about it; but depend\nupon it,\u201d says she, \u201cwe all know here that there are more thieves and\nrogues made by that one prison of Newgate than by all the clubs and\nsocieties of villains in the nation; \u2019tis that cursed place,\u201d says my\nmother, \u201cthat half peopled this colony.\u201d\nHere she went on with her own story so long, and in so particular a\nmanner, that I began to be very uneasy; but coming to one particular\nthat required telling her name, I thought I should have sunk down in\nthe place. She perceived I was out of order, and asked me if I was not\nwell, and what ailed me. I told her I was so affected with the\nmelancholy story she had told, and the terrible things she had gone\nthrough, that it had overcome me, and I begged of her to talk no more\nof it. \u201cWhy, my dear,\u201d says she very kindly, \u201cwhat need these things\ntrouble you? These passages were long before your time, and they give\nme no trouble at all now; nay, I look back on them with a particular\nsatisfaction, as they have been a means to bring me to this place.\u201d\nThen she went on to tell me how she very luckily fell into a good\nfamily, where, behaving herself well, and her mistress dying, her\nmaster married her, by whom she had my husband and his sister, and that\nby her diligence and good management after her husband\u2019s death, she had\nimproved the plantations to such a degree as they then were, so that\nmost of the estate was of her getting, not her husband\u2019s, for she had\nbeen a widow upwards of sixteen years.\nI heard this part of the story with very little attention, because I\nwanted much to retire and give vent to my passions, which I did soon\nafter; and let any one judge what must be the anguish of my mind, when\nI came to reflect that this was certainly no more or less than my own\nmother, and I had now had two children, and was big with another by my\nown brother, and lay with him still every night.\nI was now the most unhappy of all women in the world. Oh! had the story\nnever been told me, all had been well; it had been no crime to have\nlain with my husband, since as to his being my relation I had known\nnothing of it.\nI had now such a load on my mind that it kept me perpetually waking; to\nreveal it, which would have been some ease to me, I could not find\nwould be to any purpose, and yet to conceal it would be next to\nimpossible; nay, I did not doubt but I should talk of it in my sleep,\nand tell my husband of it whether I would or no. If I discovered it,\nthe least thing I could expect was to lose my husband, for he was too\nnice and too honest a man to have continued my husband after he had\nknown I had been his sister; so that I was perplexed to the last\ndegree.\nI leave it to any man to judge what difficulties presented to my view.\nI was away from my native country, at a distance prodigious, and the\nreturn to me unpassable. I lived very well, but in a circumstance\ninsufferable in itself. If I had discovered myself to my mother, it\nmight be difficult to convince her of the particulars, and I had no way\nto prove them. On the other hand, if she had questioned or doubted me,\nI had been undone, for the bare suggestion would have immediately\nseparated me from my husband, without gaining my mother or him, who\nwould have been neither a husband nor a brother; so that between the\nsurprise on one hand, and the uncertainty on the other, I had been sure\nto be undone.\nIn the meantime, as I was but too sure of the fact, I lived therefore\nin open avowed incest and whoredom, and all under the appearance of an\nhonest wife; and though I was not much touched with the crime of it,\nyet the action had something in it shocking to nature, and made my\nhusband, as he thought himself, even nauseous to me.\nHowever, upon the most sedate consideration, I resolved that it was\nabsolutely necessary to conceal it all and not make the least discovery\nof it either to mother or husband; and thus I lived with the greatest\npressure imaginable for three years more, but had no more children.\nDuring this time my mother used to be frequently telling me old stories\nof her former adventures, which, however, were no ways pleasant to me;\nfor by it, though she did not tell it me in plain terms, yet I could\neasily understand, joined with what I had heard myself, of my first\ntutors, that in her younger days she had been both whore and thief; but\nI verily believed she had lived to repent sincerely of both, and that\nshe was then a very pious, sober, and religious woman.\nWell, let her life have been what it would then, it was certain that my\nlife was very uneasy to me; for I lived, as I have said, but in the\nworst sort of whoredom, and as I could expect no good of it, so really\nno good issue came of it, and all my seeming prosperity wore off, and\nended in misery and destruction. It was some time, indeed, before it\ncame to this, for, but I know not by what ill fate guided, everything\nwent wrong with us afterwards, and that which was worse, my husband\ngrew strangely altered, forward, jealous, and unkind, and I was as\nimpatient of bearing his carriage, as the carriage was unreasonable and\nunjust. These things proceeded so far, that we came at last to be in\nsuch ill terms with one another, that I claimed a promise of him, which\nhe entered willingly into with me when I consented to come from England\nwith him, viz. that if I found the country not to agree with me, or\nthat I did not like to live there, I should come away to England again\nwhen I pleased, giving him a year\u2019s warning to settle his affairs.\nI say, I now claimed this promise of him, and I must confess I did it\nnot in the most obliging terms that could be in the world neither; but\nI insisted that he treated me ill, that I was remote from my friends,\nand could do myself no justice, and that he was jealous without cause,\nmy conversation having been unblamable, and he having no pretense for\nit, and that to remove to England would take away all occasion from\nhim.\nI insisted so peremptorily upon it, that he could not avoid coming to a\npoint, either to keep his word with me or to break it; and this,\nnotwithstanding he used all the skill he was master of, and employed\nhis mother and other agents to prevail with me to alter my resolutions;\nindeed, the bottom of the thing lay at my heart, and that made all his\nendeavours fruitless, for my heart was alienated from him as a husband.\nI loathed the thoughts of bedding with him, and used a thousand\npretenses of illness and humour to prevent his touching me, fearing\nnothing more than to be with child by him, which to be sure would have\nprevented, or at least delayed, my going over to England.\nHowever, at last I put him so out of humour, that he took up a rash and\nfatal resolution; in short, I should not go to England; and though he\nhad promised me, yet it was an unreasonable thing for me to desire it;\nthat it would be ruinous to his affairs, would unhinge his whole\nfamily, and be next to an undoing him in the world; that therefore I\nought not to desire it of him, and that no wife in the world that\nvalued her family and her husband\u2019s prosperity would insist upon such a\nthing.\nThis plunged me again, for when I considered the thing calmly, and took\nmy husband as he really was, a diligent, careful man in the main work\nof laying up an estate for his children, and that he knew nothing of\nthe dreadful circumstances that he was in, I could not but confess to\nmyself that my proposal was very unreasonable, and what no wife that\nhad the good of her family at heart would have desired.\nBut my discontents were of another nature; I looked upon him no longer\nas a husband, but as a near relation, the son of my own mother, and I\nresolved somehow or other to be clear of him, but which way I did not\nknow, nor did it seem possible.\nIt is said by the ill-natured world, of our sex, that if we are set on\na thing, it is impossible to turn us from our resolutions; in short, I\nnever ceased poring upon the means to bring to pass my voyage, and came\nthat length with my husband at last, as to propose going without him.\nThis provoked him to the last degree, and he called me not only an\nunkind wife, but an unnatural mother, and asked me how I could\nentertain such a thought without horror, as that of leaving my two\nchildren (for one was dead) without a mother, and to be brought up by\nstrangers, and never to see them more. It was true, had things been\nright, I should not have done it, but now it was my real desire never\nto see them, or him either, any more; and as to the charge of\nunnatural, I could easily answer it to myself, while I knew that the\nwhole relation was unnatural in the highest degree in the world.\nHowever, it was plain there was no bringing my husband to anything; he\nwould neither go with me nor let me go without him, and it was quite\nout of my power to stir without his consent, as any one that knows the\nconstitution of the country I was in, knows very well.\nWe had many family quarrels about it, and they began in time to grow up\nto a dangerous height; for as I was quite estranged from my husband (as\nhe was called) in affection, so I took no heed to my words, but\nsometimes gave him language that was provoking; and, in short, strove\nall I could to bring him to a parting with me, which was what above all\nthings in the world I desired most.\nHe took my carriage very ill, and indeed he might well do so, for at\nlast I refused to bed with him, and carrying on the breach upon all\noccasions to extremity, he told me once he thought I was mad, and if I\ndid not alter my conduct, he would put me under cure; that is to say,\ninto a madhouse. I told him he should find I was far enough from mad,\nand that it was not in his power, or any other villain\u2019s, to murder me.\nI confess at the same time I was heartily frighted at his thoughts of\nputting me into a madhouse, which would at once have destroyed all the\npossibility of breaking the truth out, whatever the occasion might be;\nfor that then no one would have given credit to a word of it.\nThis therefore brought me to a resolution, whatever came of it, to lay\nopen my whole case; but which way to do it, or to whom, was an\ninextricable difficulty, and took me many months to resolve. In the\nmeantime, another quarrel with my husband happened, which came up to\nsuch a mad extreme as almost pushed me on to tell it him all to his\nface; but though I kept it in so as not to come to the particulars, I\nspoke so much as put him into the utmost confusion, and in the end\nbrought out the whole story.\nHe began with a calm expostulation upon my being so resolute to go to\nEngland; I defended it, and one hard word bringing on another, as is\nusual in all family strife, he told me I did not treat him as if he was\nmy husband, or talk of my children as if I was a mother; and, in short,\nthat I did not deserve to be used as a wife; that he had used all the\nfair means possible with me; that he had argued with all the kindness\nand calmness that a husband or a Christian ought to do, and that I made\nhim such a vile return, that I treated him rather like a dog than a\nman, and rather like the most contemptible stranger than a husband;\nthat he was very loth to use violence with me, but that, in short, he\nsaw a necessity of it now, and that for the future he should be obliged\nto take such measures as should reduce me to my duty.\nMy blood was now fired to the utmost, though I knew what he had said\nwas very true, and nothing could appear more provoked. I told him, for\nhis fair means and his foul, they were equally contemned by me; that\nfor my going to England, I was resolved on it, come what would; and\nthat as to treating him not like a husband, and not showing myself a\nmother to my children, there might be something more in it than he\nunderstood at present; but, for his further consideration, I thought\nfit to tell him thus much, that he neither was my lawful husband, nor\nthey lawful children, and that I had reason to regard neither of them\nmore than I did.\nI confess I was moved to pity him when I spoke it, for he turned pale\nas death, and stood mute as one thunderstruck, and once or twice I\nthought he would have fainted; in short, it put him in a fit something\nlike an apoplex; he trembled, a sweat or dew ran off his face, and yet\nhe was cold as a clod, so that I was forced to run and fetch something\nfor him to keep life in him. When he recovered of that, he grew sick\nand vomited, and in a little after was put to bed, and the next morning\nwas, as he had been indeed all night, in a violent fever.\nHowever, it went off again, and he recovered, though but slowly, and\nwhen he came to be a little better, he told me I had given him a mortal\nwound with my tongue, and he had only one thing to ask before he\ndesired an explanation. I interrupted him, and told him I was sorry I\nhad gone so far, since I saw what disorder it put him into, but I\ndesired him not to talk to me of explanations, for that would but make\nthings worse.\nThis heightened his impatience, and, indeed, perplexed him beyond all\nbearing; for now he began to suspect that there was some mystery yet\nunfolded, but could not make the least guess at the real particulars of\nit; all that ran in his brain was, that I had another husband alive,\nwhich I could not say in fact might not be true, but I assured him,\nhowever, there was not the least of that in it; and indeed, as to my\nother husband, he was effectually dead in law to me, and had told me I\nshould look on him as such, so I had not the least uneasiness on that\nscore.\nBut now I found the thing too far gone to conceal it much longer, and\nmy husband himself gave me an opportunity to ease myself of the secret,\nmuch to my satisfaction. He had laboured with me three or four weeks,\nbut to no purpose, only to tell him whether I had spoken these words\nonly as the effect of my passion, to put him in a passion, or whether\nthere was anything of truth in the bottom of them. But I continued\ninflexible, and would explain nothing, unless he would first consent to\nmy going to England, which he would never do, he said, while he lived;\non the other hand, I said it was in my power to make him willing when I\npleased\u2014nay, to make him entreat me to go; and this increased his\ncuriosity, and made him importunate to the highest degree, but it was\nall to no purpose.\nAt length he tells all this story to his mother, and sets her upon me\nto get the main secret out of me, and she used her utmost skill with me\nindeed; but I put her to a full stop at once by telling her that the\nreason and mystery of the whole matter lay in herself, and that it was\nmy respect to her that had made me conceal it; and that, in short, I\ncould go no farther, and therefore conjured her not to insist upon it.\nShe was struck dumb at this suggestion, and could not tell what to say\nor to think; but, laying aside the supposition as a policy of mine,\ncontinued her importunity on account of her son, and, if possible, to\nmake up the breach between us two. As to that, I told her that it was\nindeed a good design in her, but that it was impossible to be done; and\nthat if I should reveal to her the truth of what she desired, she would\ngrant it to be impossible, and cease to desire it. At last I seemed to\nbe prevailed on by her importunity, and told her I dared trust her with\na secret of the greatest importance, and she would soon see that this\nwas so, and that I would consent to lodge it in her breast, if she\nwould engage solemnly not to acquaint her son with it without my\nconsent.\nShe was long in promising this part, but rather than not come at the\nmain secret, she agreed to that too, and after a great many other\npreliminaries, I began, and told her the whole story. First I told her\nhow much she was concerned in all the unhappy breach which had happened\nbetween her son and me, by telling me her own story and her London\nname; and that the surprise she saw I was in was upon that occasion.\nThen I told her my own story, and my name, and assured her, by such\nother tokens as she could not deny, that I was no other, nor more or\nless, than her own child, her daughter, born of her body in Newgate;\nthe same that had saved her from the gallows by being in her belly, and\nthe same that she left in such-and-such hands when she was transported.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment she was in; she was not\ninclined to believe the story, or to remember the particulars, for she\nimmediately foresaw the confusion that must follow in the family upon\nit. But everything concurred so exactly with the stories she had told\nme of herself, and which, if she had not told me, she would perhaps\nhave been content to have denied, that she had stopped her own mouth,\nand she had nothing to do but to take me about the neck and kiss me,\nand cry most vehemently over me, without speaking one word for a long\ntime together. At last she broke out: \u201cUnhappy child!\u201d says she, \u201cwhat\nmiserable chance could bring thee hither? and in the arms of my own\nson, too! Dreadful girl,\u201d says she, \u201cwhy, we are all undone! Married to\nthy own brother! Three children, and two alive, all of the same flesh\nand blood! My son and my daughter lying together as husband and wife!\nAll confusion and distraction for ever! Miserable family! what will\nbecome of us? What is to be said? What is to be done?\u201d And thus she ran\non for a great while; nor had I any power to speak, or if I had, did I\nknow what to say, for every word wounded me to the soul. With this kind\nof amazement on our thoughts we parted for the first time, though my\nmother was more surprised than I was, because it was more news to her\nthan to me. However, she promised again to me at parting, that she\nwould say nothing of it to her son, till we had talked of it again.\nIt was not long, you may be sure, before we had a second conference\nupon the same subject; when, as if she had been willing to forget the\nstory she had told me of herself, or to suppose that I had forgot some\nof the particulars, she began to tell them with alterations and\nomissions; but I refreshed her memory and set her to rights in many\nthings which I supposed she had forgot, and then came in so opportunely\nwith the whole history, that it was impossible for her to go from it;\nand then she fell into her rhapsodies again, and exclamations at the\nseverity of her misfortunes. When these things were a little over with\nher, we fell into a close debate about what should be first done before\nwe gave an account of the matter to my husband. But to what purpose\ncould be all our consultations? We could neither of us see our way\nthrough it, nor see how it could be safe to open such a scene to him.\nIt was impossible to make any judgment, or give any guess at what\ntemper he would receive it in, or what measures he would take upon it;\nand if he should have so little government of himself as to make it\npublic, we easily foresaw that it would be the ruin of the whole\nfamily, and expose my mother and me to the last degree; and if at last\nhe should take the advantage the law would give him, he might put me\naway with disdain and leave me to sue for the little portion that I\nhad, and perhaps waste it all in the suit, and then be a beggar; the\nchildren would be ruined too, having no legal claim to any of his\neffects; and thus I should see him, perhaps, in the arms of another\nwife in a few months, and be myself the most miserable creature alive.\nMy mother was as sensible of this as I; and, upon the whole, we knew\nnot what to do. After some time we came to more sober resolutions, but\nthen it was with this misfortune too, that my mother\u2019s opinion and mine\nwere quite different from one another, and indeed inconsistent with one\nanother; for my mother\u2019s opinion was, that I should bury the whole\nthing entirely, and continue to live with him as my husband till some\nother event should make the discovery of it more convenient; and that\nin the meantime she would endeavour to reconcile us together again, and\nrestore our mutual comfort and family peace; that we might lie as we\nused to do together, and so let the whole matter remain a secret as\nclose as death. \u201cFor, child,\u201d says she, \u201cwe are both undone if it comes\nout.\u201d\nTo encourage me to this, she promised to make me easy in my\ncircumstances, as far as she was able, and to leave me what she could\nat her death, secured for me separately from my husband; so that if it\nshould come out afterwards, I should not be left destitute, but be able\nto stand on my own feet and procure justice from him.\nThis proposal did not agree at all with my judgment of the thing,\nthough it was very fair and kind in my mother; but my thoughts ran\nquite another way.\nAs to keeping the thing in our own breasts, and letting it all remain\nas it was, I told her it was impossible; and I asked her how she could\nthink I could bear the thoughts of lying with my own brother. In the\nnext place, I told her that her being alive was the only support of the\ndiscovery, and that while she owned me for her child, and saw reason to\nbe satisfied that I was so, nobody else would doubt it; but that if she\nshould die before the discovery, I should be taken for an impudent\ncreature that had forged such a thing to go away from my husband, or\nshould be counted crazed and distracted. Then I told her how he had\nthreatened already to put me into a madhouse, and what concern I had\nbeen in about it, and how that was the thing that drove me to the\nnecessity of discovering it to her as I had done.\nFrom all which I told her, that I had, on the most serious reflections\nI was able to make in the case, come to this resolution, which I hoped\nshe would like, as a medium between both, viz. that she should use her\nendeavours with her son to give me leave to go to England, as I had\ndesired, and to furnish me with a sufficient sum of money, either in\ngoods along with me, or in bills for my support there, all along\nsuggesting that he might one time or other think it proper to come over\nto me.\nThat when I was gone, she should then, in cold blood, and after first\nobliging him in the solemnest manner possible to secrecy, discover the\ncase to him, doing it gradually, and as her own discretion should guide\nher, so that he might not be surprised with it, and fly out into any\npassions and excesses on my account, or on hers; and that she should\nconcern herself to prevent his slighting the children, or marrying\nagain, unless he had a certain account of my being dead.\nThis was my scheme, and my reasons were good; I was really alienated\nfrom him in the consequences of these things; indeed, I mortally hated\nhim as a husband, and it was impossible to remove that riveted aversion\nI had to him. At the same time, it being an unlawful, incestuous\nliving, added to that aversion, and though I had no great concern about\nit in point of conscience, yet everything added to make cohabiting with\nhim the most nauseous thing to me in the world; and I think verily it\nwas come to such a height, that I could almost as willingly have\nembraced a dog as have let him offer anything of that kind to me, for\nwhich reason I could not bear the thoughts of coming between the sheets\nwith him. I cannot say that I was right in point of policy in carrying\nit such a length, while at the same time I did not resolve to discover\nthe thing to him; but I am giving an account of what was, not of what\nought or ought not to be.\nIn their directly opposite opinion to one another my mother and I\ncontinued a long time, and it was impossible to reconcile our\njudgments; many disputes we had about it, but we could never either of\nus yield our own, or bring over the other.\nI insisted on my aversion to lying with my own brother, and she\ninsisted upon its being impossible to bring him to consent to my going\nfrom him to England; and in this uncertainty we continued, not\ndiffering so as to quarrel, or anything like it, but so as not to be\nable to resolve what we should do to make up that terrible breach that\nwas before us.\nAt last I resolved on a desperate course, and told my mother my\nresolution, viz. that, in short, I would tell him of it myself. My\nmother was frighted to the last degree at the very thoughts of it; but\nI bid her be easy, told her I would do it gradually and softly, and\nwith all the art and good-humour I was mistress of, and time it also as\nwell as I could, taking him in good-humour too. I told her I did not\nquestion but, if I could be hypocrite enough to feign more affection to\nhim than I really had, I should succeed in all my design, and we might\npart by consent, and with a good agreement, for I might live him well\nenough for a brother, though I could not for a husband.\nAll this while he lay at my mother to find out, if possible, what was\nthe meaning of that dreadful expression of mine, as he called it, which\nI mentioned before: namely, that I was not his lawful wife, nor my\nchildren his legal children. My mother put him off, told him she could\nbring me to no explanations, but found there was something that\ndisturbed me very much, and she hoped she should get it out of me in\ntime, and in the meantime recommended to him earnestly to use me more\ntenderly, and win me with his usual good carriage; told him of his\nterrifying and affrighting me with his threats of sending me to a\nmadhouse, and the like, and advised him not to make a woman desperate\non any account whatever.\nHe promised her to soften his behaviour, and bid her assure me that he\nloved me as well as ever, and that he had no such design as that of\nsending me to a madhouse, whatever he might say in his passion; also he\ndesired my mother to use the same persuasions to me too, that our\naffections might be renewed, and we might lie together in a good\nunderstanding as we used to do.\nI found the effects of this treaty presently. My husband\u2019s conduct was\nimmediately altered, and he was quite another man to me; nothing could\nbe kinder and more obliging than he was to me upon all occasions; and I\ncould do no less than make some return to it, which I did as well as I\ncould, but it was but in an awkward manner at best, for nothing was\nmore frightful to me than his caresses, and the apprehensions of being\nwith child again by him was ready to throw me into fits; and this made\nme see that there was an absolute necessity of breaking the case to him\nwithout any more delay, which, however, I did with all the caution and\nreserve imaginable.\nHe had continued his altered carriage to me near a month, and we began\nto live a new kind of life with one another; and could I have satisfied\nmyself to have gone on with it, I believe it might have continued as\nlong as we had continued alive together. One evening, as we were\nsitting and talking very friendly together under a little awning, which\nserved as an arbour at the entrance from our house into the garden, he\nwas in a very pleasant, agreeable humour, and said abundance of kind\nthings to me relating to the pleasure of our present good agreement,\nand the disorders of our past breach, and what a satisfaction it was to\nhim that we had room to hope we should never have any more of it.\nI fetched a deep sigh, and told him there was nobody in the world could\nbe more delighted than I was in the good agreement we had always kept\nup, or more afflicted with the breach of it, and should be so still;\nbut I was sorry to tell him that there was an unhappy circumstance in\nour case, which lay too close to my heart, and which I knew not how to\nbreak to him, that rendered my part of it very miserable, and took from\nme all the comfort of the rest.\nHe importuned me to tell him what it was. I told him I could not tell\nhow to do it; that while it was concealed from him I alone was unhappy,\nbut if he knew it also, we should be both so; and that, therefore, to\nkeep him in the dark about it was the kindest thing that I could do,\nand it was on that account alone that I kept a secret from him, the\nvery keeping of which, I thought, would first or last be my\ndestruction.\nIt is impossible to express his surprise at this relation, and the\ndouble importunity which he used with me to discover it to him. He told\nme I could not be called kind to him, nay, I could not be faithful to\nhim if I concealed it from him. I told him I thought so too, and yet I\ncould not do it. He went back to what I had said before to him, and\ntold me he hoped it did not relate to what I had said in my passion,\nand that he had resolved to forget all that as the effect of a rash,\nprovoked spirit. I told him I wished I could forget it all too, but\nthat it was not to be done, the impression was too deep, and I could\nnot do it: it was impossible.\nHe then told me he was resolved not to differ with me in anything, and\nthat therefore he would importune me no more about it, resolving to\nacquiesce in whatever I did or said; only begged I should then agree,\nthat whatever it was, it should no more interrupt our quiet and our\nmutual kindness.\nThis was the most provoking thing he could have said to me, for I\nreally wanted his further importunities, that I might be prevailed with\nto bring out that which indeed it was like death to me to conceal; so I\nanswered him plainly that I could not say I was glad not to be\nimportuned, thought I could not tell how to comply. \u201cBut come, my\ndear,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat conditions will you make with me upon the opening\nthis affair to you?\u201d\n\u201cAny conditions in the world,\u201d said he, \u201cthat you can in reason desire\nof me.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201ccome, give it me under your hand, that if you\ndo not find I am in any fault, or that I am willingly concerned in the\ncauses of the misfortune that is to follow, you will not blame me, use\nme the worse, do me any injury, or make me be the sufferer for that\nwhich is not my fault.\u201d\n\u201cThat,\u201d says he, \u201cis the most reasonable demand in the world: not to\nblame you for that which is not your fault. Give me a pen and ink,\u201d\nsays he; so I ran in and fetched a pen, ink, and paper, and he wrote\nthe condition down in the very words I had proposed it, and signed it\nwith his name. \u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cwhat is next, my dear?\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cthe next is, that you will not blame me for not\ndiscovering the secret of it to you before I knew it.\u201d\n\u201cVery just again,\u201d says he; \u201cwith all my heart\u201d; so he wrote down that\nalso, and signed it.\n\u201cWell, my dear,\u201d says I, \u201cthen I have but one condition more to make\nwith you, and that is, that as there is nobody concerned in it but you\nand I, you shall not discover it to any person in the world, except\nyour own mother; and that in all the measures you shall take upon the\ndiscovery, as I am equally concerned in it with you, though as innocent\nas yourself, you shall do nothing in a passion, nothing to my prejudice\nor to your mother\u2019s prejudice, without my knowledge and consent.\u201d\nThis a little amazed him, and he wrote down the words distinctly, but\nread them over and over before he signed them, hesitating at them\nseveral times, and repeating them: \u201cMy mother\u2019s prejudice! and your\nprejudice! What mysterious thing can this be?\u201d However, at last he\nsigned it.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cmy dear, I\u2019ll ask you no more under your hand; but as\nyou are to hear the most unexpected and surprising thing that perhaps\never befell any family in the world, I beg you to promise me you will\nreceive it with composure and a presence of mind suitable to a man of\nsense.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll do my utmost,\u201d says he, \u201cupon condition you will keep me no\nlonger in suspense, for you terrify me with all these preliminaries.\u201d\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d says I, \u201cit is this: as I told you before in a heat, that\nI was not your lawful wife, and that our children were not legal\nchildren, so I must let you know now in calmness and in kindness, but\nwith affliction enough, that I am your own sister, and you my own\nbrother, and that we are both the children of our mother now alive, and\nin the house, who is convinced of the truth of it, in a manner not to\nbe denied or contradicted.\u201d\nI saw him turn pale and look wild; and I said, \u201cNow remember your\npromise, and receive it with presence of mind; for who could have said\nmore to prepare you for it than I have done?\u201d However, I called a\nservant, and got him a little glass of rum (which is the usual dram of\nthat country), for he was just fainting away. When he was a little\nrecovered, I said to him, \u201cThis story, you may be sure, requires a long\nexplanation, and therefore, have patience and compose your mind to hear\nit out, and I\u2019ll make it as short as I can\u201d; and with this, I told him\nwhat I thought was needful of the fact, and particularly how my mother\ncame to discover it to me, as above. \u201cAnd now, my dear,\u201d says I, \u201cyou\nwill see reason for my capitulations, and that I neither have been the\ncause of this matter, nor could be so, and that I could know nothing of\nit before now.\u201d\n\u201cI am fully satisfied of that,\u201d says he, \u201cbut \u2019tis a dreadful surprise\nto me; however, I know a remedy for it all, and a remedy that shall put\nan end to your difficulties, without your going to England.\u201d \u201cThat\nwould be strange,\u201d said I, \u201cas all the rest.\u201d \u201cNo, no,\u201d says he, \u201cI\u2019ll\nmake it easy; there\u2019s nobody in the way of it but myself.\u201d He looked a\nlittle disordered when he said this, but I did not apprehend anything\nfrom it at that time, believing, as it used to be said, that they who\ndo those things never talk of them, or that they who talk of such\nthings never do them.\nBut things were not come to their height with him, and I observed he\nbecame pensive and melancholy; and in a word, as I thought, a little\ndistempered in his head. I endeavoured to talk him into temper, and to\nreason him into a kind of scheme for our government in the affair, and\nsometimes he would be well, and talk with some courage about it; but\nthe weight of it lay too heavy upon his thoughts, and, in short, it\nwent so far that he made attempts upon himself, and in one of them had\nactually strangled himself and had not his mother come into the room in\nthe very moment, he had died; but with the help of a Negro servant she\ncut him down and recovered him.\nThings were now come to a lamentable height in the family. My pity for\nhim now began to revive that affection which at first I really had for\nhim, and I endeavoured sincerely, by all the kind carriage I could, to\nmake up the breach; but, in short, it had gotten too great a head, it\npreyed upon his spirits, and it threw him into a long, lingering\nconsumption, though it happened not to be mortal. In this distress I\ndid not know what to do, as his life was apparently declining, and I\nmight perhaps have married again there, very much to my advantage; it\nhad been certainly my business to have stayed in the country, but my\nmind was restless too, and uneasy; I hankered after coming to England,\nand nothing would satisfy me without it.\nIn short, by an unwearied importunity, my husband, who was apparently\ndecaying, as I observed, was at last prevailed with; and so my own fate\npushing me on, the way was made clear for me, and my mother concurring,\nI obtained a very good cargo for my coming to England.\nWhen I parted with my brother (for such I am now to call him), we\nagreed that after I arrived he should pretend to have an account that I\nwas dead in England, and so might marry again when he would. He\npromised, and engaged to me to correspond with me as a sister, and to\nassist and support me as long as I lived; and that if he died before\nme, he would leave sufficient to his mother to take care of me still,\nin the name of a sister, and he was in some respects careful of me,\nwhen he heard of me; but it was so oddly managed that I felt the\ndisappointments very sensibly afterwards, as you shall hear in its\ntime.\nI came away for England in the month of August, after I had been eight\nyears in that country; and now a new scene of misfortunes attended me,\nwhich perhaps few women have gone through the life of.\nWe had an indifferent good voyage till we came just upon the coast of\nEngland, and where we arrived in two-and-thirty days, but were then\nruffled with two or three storms, one of which drove us away to the\ncoast of Ireland, and we put in at Kinsdale. We remained there about\nthirteen days, got some refreshment on shore, and put to sea again,\nthough we met with very bad weather again, in which the ship sprung her\nmainmast, as they called it, for I knew not what they meant. But we got\nat last into Milford Haven, in Wales, where, though it was remote from\nour port, yet having my foot safe upon the firm ground of my native\ncountry, the isle of Britain, I resolved to venture it no more upon the\nwaters, which had been so terrible to me; so getting my clothes and\nmoney on shore, with my bills of loading and other papers, I resolved\nto come for London, and leave the ship to get to her port as she could;\nthe port whither she was bound was to Bristol, where my brother\u2019s chief\ncorrespondent lived.\nI got to London in about three weeks, where I heard a little while\nafter that the ship was arrived in Bristol, but at the same time had\nthe misfortune to know that by the violent weather she had been in, and\nthe breaking of her mainmast, she had great damage on board, and that a\ngreat part of her cargo was spoiled.\nI had now a new scene of life upon my hands, and a dreadful appearance\nit had. I was come away with a kind of final farewell. What I brought\nwith me was indeed considerable, had it come safe, and by the help of\nit, I might have married again tolerably well; but as it was, I was\nreduced to between two or three hundred pounds in the whole, and this\nwithout any hope of recruit. I was entirely without friends, nay, even\nso much as without acquaintance, for I found it was absolutely\nnecessary not to revive former acquaintances; and as for my subtle\nfriend that set me up formerly for a fortune, she was dead, and her\nhusband also; as I was informed, upon sending a person unknown to\ninquire.\nThe looking after my cargo of goods soon after obliged me to take a\njourney to Bristol, and during my attendance upon that affair I took\nthe diversion of going to the Bath, for as I was still far from being\nold, so my humour, which was always gay, continued so to an extreme;\nand being now, as it were, a woman of fortune though I was a woman\nwithout a fortune, I expected something or other might happen in my way\nthat might mend my circumstances, as had been my case before.\nThe Bath is a place of gallantry enough; expensive, and full of snares.\nI went thither, indeed, in the view of taking anything that might\noffer, but I must do myself justice, as to protest I knew nothing\namiss; I meant nothing but in an honest way, nor had I any thoughts\nabout me at first that looked the way which afterwards I suffered them\nto be guided.\nHere I stayed the whole latter season, as it is called there, and\ncontracted some unhappy acquaintances, which rather prompted the\nfollies I fell afterwards into than fortified me against them. I lived\npleasantly enough, kept good company, that is to say, gay, fine\ncompany; but had the discouragement to find this way of living sunk me\nexceedingly, and that as I had no settled income, so spending upon the\nmain stock was but a certain kind of bleeding to death; and this gave\nme many sad reflections in the interval of my other thoughts. However,\nI shook them off, and still flattered myself that something or other\nmight offer for my advantage.\nBut I was in the wrong place for it. I was not now at Redriff, where,\nif I had set myself tolerably up, some honest sea captain or other\nmight have talked with me upon the honourable terms of matrimony; but I\nwas at the Bath, where men find a mistress sometimes, but very rarely\nlook for a wife; and consequently all the particular acquaintances a\nwoman can expect to make there must have some tendency that way.\nI had spent the first season well enough; for though I had contracted\nsome acquaintance with a gentleman who came to the Bath for his\ndiversion, yet I had entered into no felonious treaty, as it might be\ncalled. I had resisted some casual offers of gallantry, and had managed\nthat way well enough. I was not wicked enough to come into the crime\nfor the mere vice of it, and I had no extraordinary offers made me that\ntempted me with the main thing which I wanted.\nHowever, I went this length the first season, viz. I contracted an\nacquaintance with a woman in whose house I lodged, who, though she did\nnot keep an ill house, as we call it, yet had none of the best\nprinciples in herself. I had on all occasions behaved myself so well as\nnot to get the least slur upon my reputation on any account whatever,\nand all the men that I had conversed with were of so good reputation\nthat I had not given the least reflection by conversing with them; nor\ndid any of them seem to think there was room for a wicked\ncorrespondence, if they had any of them offered it; yet there was one\ngentleman, as above, who always singled me out for the diversion of my\ncompany, as he called it, which, as he was pleased to say, was very\nagreeable to him, but at that time there was no more in it.\nI had many melancholy hours at the Bath after the company was gone; for\nthough I went to Bristol sometime for the disposing my effects, and for\nrecruits of money, yet I chose to come back to Bath for my residence,\nbecause being on good terms with the woman in whose house I lodged in\nthe summer, I found that during the winter I lived rather cheaper there\nthan I could do anywhere else. Here, I say, I passed the winter as\nheavily as I had passed the autumn cheerfully; but having contracted a\nnearer intimacy with the said woman in whose house I lodged, I could\nnot avoid communicating to her something of what lay hardest upon my\nmind and particularly the narrowness of my circumstances, and the loss\nof my fortune by the damage of my goods at sea. I told her also, that I\nhad a mother and a brother in Virginia in good circumstances; and as I\nhad really written back to my mother in particular to represent my\ncondition, and the great loss I had received, which indeed came to\nalmost \u00a3500, so I did not fail to let my new friend know that I\nexpected a supply from thence, and so indeed I did; and as the ships\nwent from Bristol to York River, in Virginia, and back again generally\nin less time from London, and that my brother corresponded chiefly at\nBristol, I thought it was much better for me to wait here for my\nreturns than to go to London, where also I had not the least\nacquaintance.\nMy new friend appeared sensibly affected with my condition, and indeed\nwas so very kind as to reduce the rate of my living with her to so low\na price during the winter, that she convinced me she got nothing by me;\nand as for lodging, during the winter I paid nothing at all.\nWhen the spring season came on, she continued to be as kind to me as\nshe could, and I lodged with her for a time, till it was found\nnecessary to do otherwise. She had some persons of character that\nfrequently lodged in her house, and in particular the gentleman who, as\nI said, singled me out for his companion the winter before; and he came\ndown again with another gentleman in his company and two servants, and\nlodged in the same house. I suspected that my landlady had invited him\nthither, letting him know that I was still with her; but she denied it,\nand protested to me that she did not, and he said the same.\nIn a word, this gentleman came down and continued to single me out for\nhis peculiar confidence as well as conversation. He was a complete\ngentleman, that must be confessed, and his company was very agreeable\nto me, as mine, if I might believe him, was to him. He made no\nprofessions to me but of an extraordinary respect, and he had such an\nopinion of my virtue, that, as he often professed, he believed if he\nshould offer anything else, I should reject him with contempt. He soon\nunderstood from me that I was a widow; that I had arrived at Bristol\nfrom Virginia by the last ships; and that I waited at Bath till the\nnext Virginia fleet should arrive, by which I expected considerable\neffects. I understood by him, and by others of him, that he had a wife,\nbut that the lady was distempered in her head, and was under the\nconduct of her own relations, which he consented to, to avoid any\nreflections that might (as was not unusual in such cases) be cast on\nhim for mismanaging her cure; and in the meantime he came to the Bath\nto divert his thoughts from the disturbance of such a melancholy\ncircumstance as that was.\nMy landlady, who of her own accord encouraged the correspondence on all\noccasions, gave me an advantageous character of him, as a man of honour\nand of virtue, as well as of great estate. And indeed I had a great\ndeal of reason to say so of him too; for though we lodged both on a\nfloor, and he had frequently come into my chamber, even when I was in\nbed, and I also into his when he was in bed, yet he never offered\nanything to me further than a kiss, or so much as solicited me to\nanything till long after, as you shall hear.\nI frequently took notice to my landlady of his exceeding modesty, and\nshe again used to tell me, she believed it was so from the beginning;\nhowever, she used to tell me that she thought I ought to expect some\ngratification from him for my company, for indeed he did, as it were,\nengross me, and I was seldom from him. I told her I had not given him\nthe least occasion to think I wanted it, or that I would accept of it\nfrom him. She told me she would take that part upon her, and she did\nso, and managed it so dexterously, that the first time we were together\nalone, after she had talked with him, he began to inquire a little into\nmy circumstances, as how I had subsisted myself since I came on shore,\nand whether I did not want money. I stood off very boldly. I told him\nthat though my cargo of tobacco was damaged, yet that it was not quite\nlost; that the merchant I had been consigned to had so honestly managed\nfor me that I had not wanted, and that I hoped, with frugal management,\nI should make it hold out till more would come, which I expected by the\nnext fleet; that in the meantime I had retrenched my expenses, and\nwhereas I kept a maid last season, now I lived without; and whereas I\nhad a chamber and a dining-room then on the first floor, as he knew, I\nnow had but one room, two pair of stairs, and the like. \u201cBut I live,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cas well satisfied now as I did then\u201d; adding, that his company\nhad been a means to make me live much more cheerfully than otherwise I\nshould have done, for which I was much obliged to him; and so I put off\nall room for any offer for the present. However, it was not long before\nhe attacked me again, and told me he found that I was backward to trust\nhim with the secret of my circumstances, which he was sorry for;\nassuring me that he inquired into it with no design to satisfy his own\ncuriosity, but merely to assist me, if there was any occasion; but\nsince I would not own myself to stand in need of any assistance, he had\nbut one thing more to desire of me, and that was, that I would promise\nhim that when I was any way straitened, or like to be so, I would\nfrankly tell him of it, and that I would make use of him with the same\nfreedom that he made the offer; adding, that I should always find I had\na true friend, though perhaps I was afraid to trust him.\nI omitted nothing that was fit to be said by one infinitely obliged, to\nlet him know that I had a due sense of his kindness; and indeed from\nthat time I did not appear so much reserved to him as I had done\nbefore, though still within the bounds of the strictest virtue on both\nsides; but how free soever our conversation was, I could not arrive to\nthat sort of freedom which he desired, viz. to tell him I wanted money,\nthough I was secretly very glad of his offer.\nSome weeks passed after this, and still I never asked him for money;\nwhen my landlady, a cunning creature, who had often pressed me to it,\nbut found that I could not do it, makes a story of her own inventing,\nand comes in bluntly to me when we were together. \u201cOh, widow!\u201d says\nshe, \u201cI have bad news to tell you this morning.\u201d \u201cWhat is that?\u201d said\nI; \u201care the Virginia ships taken by the French?\u201d\u2014for that was my fear.\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d says she, \u201cbut the man you sent to Bristol yesterday for\nmoney is come back, and says he has brought none.\u201d\nNow I could by no means like her project; I thought it looked too much\nlike prompting him, which indeed he did not want, and I clearly saw\nthat I should lose nothing by being backward to ask, so I took her up\nshort. \u201cI can\u2019t image why he should say so to you,\u201d said I, \u201cfor I\nassure you he brought me all the money I sent him for, and here it is,\u201d\nsaid I (pulling out my purse with about twelve guineas in it); and\nadded, \u201cI intend you shall have most of it by and by.\u201d\nHe seemed distasted a little at her talking as she did at first, as\nwell as I, taking it, as I fancied he would, as something forward of\nher; but when he saw me give such an answer, he came immediately to\nhimself again. The next morning we talked of it again, when I found he\nwas fully satisfied, and, smiling, said he hoped I would not want money\nand not tell him of it, and that I had promised him otherwise. I told\nhim I had been very much dissatisfied at my landlady\u2019s talking so\npublicly the day before of what she had nothing to do with; but I\nsupposed she wanted what I owed her, which was about eight guineas,\nwhich I had resolved to give her, and had accordingly given it her the\nsame night she talked so foolishly.\nHe was in a might good humour when he heard me say I had paid her, and\nit went off into some other discourse at that time. But the next\nmorning, he having heard me up about my room before him, he called to\nme, and I answering, he asked me to come into his chamber. He was in\nbed when I came in, and he made me come and sit down on his bedside,\nfor he said he had something to say to me which was of some moment.\nAfter some very kind expressions, he asked me if I would be very honest\nto him, and give a sincere answer to one thing he would desire of me.\nAfter some little cavil at the word \u201csincere,\u201d and asking him if I had\never given him any answers which were not sincere, I promised him I\nwould. Why, then, his request was, he said, to let him see my purse. I\nimmediately put my hand into my pocket, and, laughing to him, pulled it\nout, and there was in it three guineas and a half. Then he asked me if\nthere was all the money I had. I told him No, laughing again, not by a\ngreat deal.\nWell, then, he said, he would have me promise to go and fetch him all\nthe money I had, every farthing. I told him I would, and I went into my\nchamber and fetched him a little private drawer, where I had about six\nguineas more, and some silver, and threw it all down upon the bed, and\ntold him there was all my wealth, honestly to a shilling. He looked a\nlittle at it, but did not tell it, and huddled it all into the drawer\nagain, and then reaching his pocket, pulled out a key, and bade me open\na little walnut-tree box he had upon the table, and bring him such a\ndrawer, which I did. In which drawer there was a great deal of money in\ngold, I believe near two hundred guineas, but I knew not how much. He\ntook the drawer, and taking my hand, made me put it in and take a whole\nhandful. I was backward at that, but he held my hand hard in his hand,\nand put it into the drawer, and made me take out as many guineas almost\nas I could well take up at once.\nWhen I had done so, he made me put them into my lap, and took my little\ndrawer, and poured out all my money among his, and bade me get me gone,\nand carry it all home into my own chamber.\nI relate this story the more particularly because of the good-humour\nthere was in it, and to show the temper with which we conversed. It was\nnot long after this but he began every day to find fault with my\nclothes, with my laces and headdresses, and, in a word, pressed me to\nbuy better; which, by the way, I was willing enough to do, though I did\nnot seem to be so, for I loved nothing in the world better than fine\nclothes. I told him I must housewife the money he had lent me, or else\nI should not be able to pay him again. He then told me, in a few words,\nthat as he had a sincere respect for me, and knew my circumstances, he\nhad not lent me that money, but given it me, and that he thought I had\nmerited it from him by giving him my company so entirely as I had done.\nAfter this he made me take a maid, and keep house, and his friend that\ncome with him to Bath being gone, he obliged me to diet him, which I\ndid very willingly, believing, as it appeared, that I should lose\nnothing by it, nor did the woman of the house fail to find her account\nin it too.\nWe had lived thus near three months, when the company beginning to wear\naway at the Bath, he talked of going away, and fain he would have me to\ngo to London with him. I was not very easy in that proposal, not\nknowing what posture I was to live in there, or how he might use me.\nBut while this was in debate he fell very sick; he had gone out to a\nplace in Somersetshire, called Shepton, where he had some business and\nwas there taken very ill, and so ill that he could not travel; so he\nsent his man back to Bath, to beg me that I would hire a coach and come\nover to him. Before he went, he had left all his money and other things\nof value with me, and what to do with them I did not know, but I\nsecured them as well as I could, and locked up the lodgings and went to\nhim, where I found him very ill indeed; however, I persuaded him to be\ncarried in a litter to the Bath, where there was more help and better\nadvice to be had.\nHe consented, and I brought him to the Bath, which was about fifteen\nmiles, as I remember. Here he continued very ill of a fever, and kept\nhis bed five weeks, all which time I nursed him and tended him myself,\nas much and as carefully as if I had been his wife; indeed, if I had\nbeen his wife I could not have done more. I sat up with him so much and\nso often, that at last, indeed, he would not let me sit up any longer,\nand then I got a pallet-bed into his room, and lay in it just at his\nbed\u2019s feet.\nI was indeed sensibly affected with his condition, and with the\napprehension of losing such a friend as he was, and was like to be to\nme, and I used to sit and cry by him many hours together. However, at\nlast he grew better, and gave hopes that he would recover, as indeed he\ndid, though very slowly.\nWere it otherwise than what I am going to say, I should not be backward\nto disclose it, as it is apparent I have done in other cases in this\naccount; but I affirm, that through all this conversation, abating the\nfreedom of coming into the chamber when I or he was in bed, and abating\nthe necessary offices of attending him night and day when he was sick,\nthere had not passed the least immodest word or action between us. Oh\nthat it had been so to the last!\nAfter some time he gathered strength and grew well apace, and I would\nhave removed my pallet-bed, but he would not let me, till he was able\nto venture himself without anybody to sit up with him, and then I\nremoved to my own chamber.\nHe took many occasions to express his sense of my tenderness and\nconcern for him; and when he grew quite well, he made me a present of\nfifty guineas for my care and, as he called it, for hazarding my life\nto save his.\nAnd now he made deep protestations of a sincere inviolable affection\nfor me, but all along attested it to be with the utmost reserve for my\nvirtue and his own. I told him I was fully satisfied of it. He carried\nit that length that he protested to me, that if he was naked in bed\nwith me, he would as sacredly preserve my virtue as he would defend it\nif I was assaulted by a ravisher. I believed him, and told him I did\nso; but this did not satisfy him, he would, he said, wait for some\nopportunity to give me an undoubted testimony of it.\nIt was a great while after this that I had occasion, on my own\nbusiness, to go to Bristol, upon which he hired me a coach, and would\ngo with me, and did so; and now indeed our intimacy increased. From\nBristol he carried me to Gloucester, which was merely a journey of\npleasure, to take the air; and here it was our hap to have no lodging\nin the inn but in one large chamber with two beds in it. The master of\nthe house going up with us to show his rooms, and coming into that\nroom, said very frankly to him, \u201cSir, it is none of my business to\ninquire whether the lady be your spouse or no, but if not, you may lie\nas honestly in these two beds as if you were in two chambers,\u201d and with\nthat he pulls a great curtain which drew quite across the room and\neffectually divided the beds. \u201cWell,\u201d says my friend, very readily,\n\u201cthese beds will do, and as for the rest, we are too near akin to lie\ntogether, though we may lodge near one another\u201d; and this put an honest\nface on the thing too. When we came to go to bed, he decently went out\nof the room till I was in bed, and then went to bed in the bed on his\nown side of the room, but lay there talking to me a great while.\nAt last, repeating his usual saying, that he could lie naked in the bed\nwith me and not offer me the least injury, he starts out of his bed.\n\u201cAnd now, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cyou shall see how just I will be to you,\nand that I can keep my word,\u201d and away he comes to my bed.\nI resisted a little, but I must confess I should not have resisted him\nmuch if he had not made those promises at all; so after a little\nstruggle, as I said, I lay still and let him come to bed. When he was\nthere he took me in his arms, and so I lay all night with him, but he\nhad no more to do with me, or offered anything to me, other than\nembracing me, as I say, in his arms, no, not the whole night, but rose\nup and dressed him in the morning, and left me as innocent for him as I\nwas the day I was born.\nThis was a surprising thing to me, and perhaps may be so to others, who\nknow how the laws of nature work; for he was a strong, vigorous, brisk\nperson; nor did he act thus on a principle of religion at all, but of\nmere affection; insisting on it, that though I was to him the most\nagreeable woman in the world, yet, because he loved me, he could not\ninjure me.\nI own it was a noble principle, but as it was what I never understood\nbefore, so it was to me perfectly amazing. We traveled the rest of the\njourney as we did before, and came back to the Bath, where, as he had\nopportunity to come to me when he would, he often repeated the\nmoderation, and I frequently lay with him, and he with me, and although\nall the familiarities between man and wife were common to us, yet he\nnever once offered to go any farther, and he valued himself much upon\nit. I do not say that I was so wholly pleased with it as he thought I\nwas, for I own much wickeder than he, as you shall hear presently.\nWe lived thus near two years, only with this exception, that he went\nthree times to London in that time, and once he continued there four\nmonths; but, to do him justice, he always supplied me with money to\nsubsist me very handsomely.\nHad we continued thus, I confess we had had much to boast of; but as\nwise men say, it is ill venturing too near the brink of a command, so\nwe found it; and here again I must do him the justice to own that the\nfirst breach was not on his part. It was one night that we were in bed\ntogether warm and merry, and having drunk, I think, a little more wine\nthat night, both of us, than usual, although not in the least to\ndisorder either of us, when, after some other follies which I cannot\nname, and being clasped close in his arms, I told him (I repeat it with\nshame and horror of soul) that I could find in my heart to discharge\nhim of his engagement for one night and no more.\nHe took me at my word immediately, and after that there was no\nresisting him; neither indeed had I any mind to resist him any more,\nlet what would come of it.\nThus the government of our virtue was broken, and I exchanged the place\nof friend for that unmusical, harsh-sounding title of whore. In the\nmorning we were both at our penitentials; I cried very heartily, he\nexpressed himself very sorry; but that was all either of us could do at\nthat time, and the way being thus cleared, and the bars of virtue and\nconscience thus removed, we had the less difficult afterwards to\nstruggle with.\nIt was but a dull kind of conversation that we had together for all the\nrest of that week; I looked on him with blushes, and every now and then\nstarted that melancholy objection, \u201cWhat if I should be with child now?\nWhat will become of me then?\u201d He encouraged me by telling me, that as\nlong as I was true to him, he would be so to me; and since it was gone\nsuch a length (which indeed he never intended), yet if I was with\nchild, he would take care of that, and of me too. This hardened us\nboth. I assured him if I was with child, I would die for want of a\nmidwife rather than name him as the father of it; and he assured me I\nshould never want if I should be with child. These mutual assurances\nhardened us in the thing, and after this we repeated the crime as often\nas we pleased, till at length, as I had feared, so it came to pass, and\nI was indeed with child.\nAfter I was sure it was so, and I had satisfied him of it too, we began\nto think of taking measures for the managing it, and I proposed\ntrusting the secret to my landlady, and asking her advice, which he\nagreed to. My landlady, a woman (as I found) used to such things, made\nlight of it; she said she knew it would come to that at last, and made\nus very merry about it. As I said above, we found her an experienced\nold lady at such work; she undertook everything, engaged to procure a\nmidwife and a nurse, to satisfy all inquiries, and bring us off with\nreputation, and she did so very dexterously indeed.\nWhen I grew near my time she desired my gentleman to go away to London,\nor make as if he did so. When he was gone, she acquainted the parish\nofficers that there was a lady ready to lie in at her house, but that\nshe knew her husband very well, and gave them, as she pretended, an\naccount of his name, which she called Sir Walter Cleve; telling them he\nwas a very worthy gentleman, and that she would answer for all\ninquiries, and the like. This satisfied the parish officers presently,\nand I lay in with as much credit as I could have done if I had really\nbeen my Lady Cleve, and was assisted in my travail by three or four of\nthe best citizens\u2019 wives of Bath who lived in the neighbourhood, which,\nhowever, made me a little the more expensive to him. I often expressed\nmy concern to him about it, but he bid me not be concerned at it.\nAs he had furnished me very sufficiently with money for the\nextraordinary expenses of my lying in, I had everything very handsome\nabout me, but did not affect to be gay or extravagant neither; besides,\nknowing my own circumstances, and knowing the world as I had done, and\nthat such kind of things do not often last long, I took care to lay up\nas much money as I could for a wet day, as I called it; making him\nbelieve it was all spent upon the extraordinary appearance of things in\nmy lying in.\nBy this means, and including what he had given me as above, I had at\nthe end of my lying in about two hundred guineas by me, including also\nwhat was left of my own.\nI was brought to bed of a fine boy indeed, and a charming child it was;\nand when he heard of it he wrote me a very kind, obliging letter about\nit, and then told me, he thought it would look better for me to come\naway for London as soon as I was up and well; that he had provided\napartments for me at Hammersmith, as if I came thither only from\nLondon; and that after a little while I should go back to the Bath, and\nhe would go with me.\nI liked this offer very well, and accordingly hired a coach on purpose,\nand taking my child, and a wet-nurse to tend and suckle it, and a\nmaid-servant with me, away I went for London.\nHe met me at Reading in his own chariot, and taking me into that, left\nthe servant and the child in the hired coach, and so he brought me to\nmy new lodgings at Hammersmith; with which I had abundance of reason to\nbe very well pleased, for they were very handsome rooms, and I was very\nwell accommodated.\nAnd now I was indeed in the height of what I might call my prosperity,\nand I wanted nothing but to be a wife, which, however, could not be in\nthis case, there was no room for it; and therefore on all occasions I\nstudied to save what I could, as I have said above, against a time of\nscarcity, knowing well enough that such things as these do not always\ncontinue; that men that keep mistresses often change them, grow weary\nof them, or jealous of them, or something or other happens to make them\nwithdraw their bounty; and sometimes the ladies that are thus well used\nare not careful by a prudent conduct to preserve the esteem of their\npersons, or the nice article of their fidelity, and then they are\njustly cast off with contempt.\nBut I was secured in this point, for as I had no inclination to change,\nso I had no manner of acquaintance in the whole house, and so no\ntemptation to look any farther. I kept no company but in the family\nwhen I lodged, and with the clergyman\u2019s lady at next door; so that when\nhe was absent I visited nobody, nor did he ever find me out of my\nchamber or parlour whenever he came down; if I went anywhere to take\nthe air, it was always with him.\nThe living in this manner with him, and his with me, was certainly the\nmost undesigned thing in the world; he often protested to me, that when\nhe became first acquainted with me, and even to the very night when we\nfirst broke in upon our rules, he never had the least design of lying\nwith me; that he always had a sincere affection for me, but not the\nleast real inclination to do what he had done. I assured him I never\nsuspected him; that if I had I should not so easily have yielded to the\nfreedom which brought it on, but that it was all a surprise, and was\nowing to the accident of our having yielded too far to our mutual\ninclinations that night; and indeed I have often observed since, and\nleave it as a caution to the readers of this story, that we ought to be\ncautious of gratifying our inclinations in loose and lewd freedoms,\nlest we find our resolutions of virtue fail us in the junction when\ntheir assistance should be most necessary.\nIt is true, and I have confessed it before, that from the first hour I\nbegan to converse with him, I resolved to let him lie with me, if he\noffered it; but it was because I wanted his help and assistance, and I\nknew no other way of securing him than that. But when we were that\nnight together, and, as I have said, had gone such a length, I found my\nweakness; the inclination was not to be resisted, but I was obliged to\nyield up all even before he asked it.\nHowever, he was so just to me that he never upbraided me with that; nor\ndid he ever express the least dislike of my conduct on any other\noccasion, but always protested he was as much delighted with my company\nas he was the first hour we came together: I mean, came together as\nbedfellows.\nIt is true that he had no wife, that is to say, she was as no wife to\nhim, and so I was in no danger that way, but the just reflections of\nconscience oftentimes snatch a man, especially a man of sense, from the\narms of a mistress, as it did him at last, though on another occasion.\nOn the other hand, though I was not without secret reproaches of my own\nconscience for the life I led, and that even in the greatest height of\nthe satisfaction I ever took, yet I had the terrible prospect of\npoverty and starving, which lay on me as a frightful spectre, so that\nthere was no looking behind me. But as poverty brought me into it, so\nfear of poverty kept me in it, and I frequently resolved to leave it\nquite off, if I could but come to lay up money enough to maintain me.\nBut these were thoughts of no weight, and whenever he came to me they\nvanished; for his company was so delightful, that there was no being\nmelancholy when he was there; the reflections were all the subject of\nthose hours when I was alone.\nI lived six years in this happy but unhappy condition, in which time I\nbrought him three children, but only the first of them lived; and\nthough I removed twice in those six years, yet I came back the sixth\nyear to my first lodgings at Hammersmith. Here it was that I was one\nmorning surprised with a kind but melancholy letter from my gentleman,\nintimating that he was very ill, and was afraid he should have another\nfit of sickness, but that his wife\u2019s relations being in the house with\nhim, it would not be practicable to have me with him, which, however,\nhe expressed his great dissatisfaction in, and that he wished I could\nbe allowed to tend and nurse him as I did before.\nI was very much concerned at this account, and was very impatient to\nknow how it was with him. I waited a fortnight or thereabouts, and\nheard nothing, which surprised me, and I began to be very uneasy\nindeed. I think, I may say, that for the next fortnight I was near to\ndistracted. It was my particular difficulty that I did not know\ndirectly where he was; for I understood at first he was in the lodgings\nof his wife\u2019s mother; but having removed myself to London, I soon\nfound, by the help of the direction I had for writing my letters to\nhim, how to inquire after him, and there I found that he was at a house\nin Bloomsbury, whither he had, a little before he fell sick, removed\nhis whole family; and that his wife and wife\u2019s mother were in the same\nhouse, though the wife was not suffered to know that she was in the\nsame house with her husband.\nHere I also soon understood that he was at the last extremity, which\nmade me almost at the last extremity too, to have a true account. One\nnight I had the curiosity to disguise myself like a servant-maid, in a\nround cap and straw hat, and went to the door, as sent by a lady of his\nneighbourhood, where he lived before, and giving master and mistress\u2019s\nservice, I said I was sent to know how Mr. \u2014\u2014 did, and how he had\nrested that night. In delivering this message I got the opportunity I\ndesired; for, speaking with one of the maids, I held a long gossip\u2019s\ntale with her, and had all the particulars of his illness, which I\nfound was a pleurisy, attended with a cough and a fever. She told me\nalso who was in the house, and how his wife was, who, by her relation,\nthey were in some hopes might recover her understanding; but as to the\ngentleman himself, in short she told me the doctors said there was very\nlittle hopes of him, that in the morning they thought he had been\ndying, and that he was but little better then, for they did not expect\nthat he could live over the next night.\nThis was heavy news for me, and I began now to see an end of my\nprosperity, and to see also that it was very well I had played to good\nhousewife, and secured or saved something while he was alive, for that\nnow I had no view of my own living before me.\nIt lay very heavy upon my mind, too, that I had a son, a fine lovely\nboy, about five years old, and no provision made for it, at least that\nI knew of. With these considerations, and a sad heart, I went home that\nevening, and began to cast with myself how I should live, and in what\nmanner to bestow myself, for the residue of my life.\nYou may be sure I could not rest without inquiring again very quickly\nwhat was become of him; and not venturing to go myself, I sent several\nsham messengers, till after a fortnight\u2019s waiting longer, I found that\nthere was hopes of his life, though he was still very ill; then I\nabated my sending any more to the house, and in some time after I\nlearned in the neighbourhood that he was about house, and then that he\nwas abroad again.\nI made no doubt then but that I should soon hear of him, and began to\ncomfort myself with my circumstances being, as I thought, recovered. I\nwaited a week, and two weeks, and with much surprise and amazement I\nwaited near two months and heard nothing, but that, being recovered, he\nwas gone into the country for the air, and for the better recovery\nafter his distemper. After this it was yet two months more, and then I\nunderstood he was come to his city house again, but still I heard\nnothing from him.\nI had written several letters for him, and directed them as usual, and\nfound two or three of them had been called for, but not the rest. I\nwrote again in a more pressing manner than ever, and in one of them let\nhim know, that I must be forced to wait on him myself, representing my\ncircumstances, the rent of lodgings to pay, and the provision for the\nchild wanting, and my own deplorable condition, destitute of\nsubsistence for his most solemn engagement to take care of and provide\nfor me. I took a copy of this letter, and finding it lay at the house\nnear a month and was not called for, I found means to have the copy of\nit put into his own hands at a coffee-house, where I had by inquiry\nfound he used to go.\nThis letter forced an answer from him, by which, though I found I was\nto be abandoned, yet I found he had sent a letter to me some time\nbefore, desiring me to go down to the Bath again. Its contents I shall\ncome to presently.\nIt is true that sick-beds are the time when such correspondences as\nthis are looked on with different countenances, and seen with other\neyes than we saw them with, or than they appeared with before. My lover\nhad been at the gates of death, and at the very brink of eternity; and,\nit seems, had been struck with a due remorse, and with sad reflections\nupon his past life of gallantry and levity; and among the rest,\ncriminal correspondence with me, which was neither more nor less than a\nlong-continued life of adultery, and represented itself as it really\nwas, not as it had been formerly thought by him to be, and he looked\nupon it now with a just and religious abhorrence.\nI cannot but observe also, and leave it for the direction of my sex in\nsuch cases of pleasure, that whenever sincere repentance succeeds such\na crime as this, there never fails to attend a hatred of the object;\nand the more the affection might seem to be before, the hatred will be\nthe more in proportion. It will always be so, indeed it can be no\notherwise; for there cannot be a true and sincere abhorrence of the\noffence, and the love to the cause of it remain; there will, with an\nabhorrence of the sin, be found a detestation of the fellow-sinner; you\ncan expect no other.\nI found it so here, though good manners and justice in this gentleman\nkept him from carrying it on to any extreme but the short history of\nhis part in this affair was thus: he perceived by my last letter, and\nby all the rest, which he went for after, that I was not gone to Bath,\nthat his first letter had not come to my hand; upon which he write me\nthis following:\u2014\n\u201cMADAM,\u2014I am surprised that my letter, dated the 8th of last month, did\nnot come to your hand; I give you my word it was delivered at your\nlodgings, and to the hands of your maid.\n    \u2019I need not acquaint you with what has been my condition for some\n    time past; and how, having been at the edge of the grave, I am, by\n    the unexpected and undeserved mercy of Heaven, restored again. In\n    the condition I have been in, it cannot be strange to you that our\n    unhappy correspondence had not been the least of the burthens which\n    lay upon my conscience. I need say no more; those things that must\n    be repented of, must be also reformed.\n    I wish you would think of going back to the Bath. I enclose you\n    here a bill for \u00a350 for clearing yourself at your lodgings, and\n    carrying you down, and hope it will be no surprise to you to add,\n    that on this account only, and not for any offence given me on your\n    side, I can _see you no more_. I will take due care of the child;\n    leave him where he is, or take him with you, as you please. I wish\n    you the like reflections, and that they may be to your advantage.\u2014I\nI was struck with this letter as with a thousand wounds, such as I\ncannot describe; the reproaches of my own conscience were such as I\ncannot express, for I was not blind to my own crime; and I reflected\nthat I might with less offence have continued with my brother, and\nlived with him as a wife, since there was no crime in our marriage on\nthat score, neither of us knowing it.\nBut I never once reflected that I was all this while a married woman, a\nwife to Mr. \u2014\u2014 the linen-draper, who, though he had left me by the\nnecessity of his circumstances, had no power to discharge me from the\nmarriage contract which was between us, or to give me a legal liberty\nto marry again; so that I had been no less than a whore and an\nadulteress all this while. I then reproached myself with the liberties\nI had taken, and how I had been a snare to this gentleman, and that\nindeed I was principal in the crime; that now he was mercifully\nsnatched out of the gulf by a convincing work upon his mind, but that I\nwas left as if I was forsaken of God\u2019s grace, and abandoned by Heaven\nto a continuing in my wickedness.\nUnder these reflections I continued very pensive and sad for near\nmonth, and did not go down to the Bath, having no inclination to be\nwith the woman whom I was with before; lest, as I thought, she should\nprompt me to some wicked course of life again, as she had done; and\nbesides, I was very loth she should know I was cast off as above.\nAnd now I was greatly perplexed about my little boy. It was death to me\nto part with the child, and yet when I considered the danger of being\none time or other left with him to keep without a maintenance to\nsupport him, I then resolved to leave him where he was; but then I\nconcluded also to be near him myself too, that I then might have the\nsatisfaction of seeing him, without the care of providing for him.\nI sent my gentleman a short letter, therefore, that I had obeyed his\norders in all things but that of going back to the Bath, which I could\nnot think of for many reasons; that however parting from him was a\nwound to me that I could never recover, yet that I was fully satisfied\nhis reflections were just, and would be very far from desiring to\nobstruct his reformation or repentance.\nThen I represented my own circumstances to him in the most moving terms\nthat I was able. I told him that those unhappy distresses which first\nmoved him to a generous and an honest friendship for me, would, I hope,\nmove him to a little concern for me now, though the criminal part of\nour correspondence, which I believed neither of us intended to fall\ninto at the time, was broken off; that I desired to repent as sincerely\nas he had done, but entreated him to put me in some condition that I\nmight not be exposed to the temptations which the devil never fails to\nexcite us to from the frightful prospect of poverty and distress; and\nif he had the least apprehensions of my being troublesome to him, I\nbegged he would put me in a posture to go back to my mother in\nVirginia, from when he knew I came, and that would put an end to all\nhis fears on that account. I concluded, that if he would send me \u00a350\nmore to facilitate my going away, I would send him back a general\nrelease, and would promise never to disturb him more with any\nimportunities; unless it was to hear of the well-doing of the child,\nwhom, if I found my mother living and my circumstances able, I would\nsend for to come over to me, and take him also effectually off his\nhands.\nThis was indeed all a cheat thus far, viz. that I had no intention to\ngo to Virginia, as the account of my former affairs there may convince\nanybody of; but the business was to get this last \u00a350 of him, if\npossible, knowing well enough it would be the last penny I was ever to\nexpect.\nHowever, the argument I used, namely, of giving him a general release,\nand never troubling him any more, prevailed effectually with him, and\nhe sent me a bill for the money by a person who brought with him a\ngeneral release for me to sign, and which I frankly signed, and\nreceived the money; and thus, though full sore against my will, a final\nend was put to this affair.\nAnd here I cannot but reflect upon the unhappy consequence of too great\nfreedoms between persons stated as we were, upon the pretence of\ninnocent intentions, love of friendship, and the like; for the flesh\nhas generally so great a share in those friendships, that is great odds\nbut inclination prevails at last over the most solemn resolutions; and\nthat vice breaks in at the breaches of decency, which really innocent\nfriendship ought to preserve with the greatest strictness. But I leave\nthe readers of these things to their own just reflections, which they\nwill be more able to make effectual than I, who so soon forgot myself,\nand am therefore but a very indifferent monitor.\nI was now a single person again, as I may call myself; I was loosed\nfrom all the obligations either of wedlock or mistress-ship in the\nworld, except my husband the linen-draper, whom, I having not now heard\nfrom in almost fifteen years, nobody could blame me for thinking myself\nentirely freed from; seeing also he had at his going away told me, that\nif I did not hear frequently from him, I should conclude he was dead,\nand I might freely marry again to whom I pleased.\nI now began to cast up my accounts. I had by many letters and much\nimportunity, and with the intercession of my mother too, had a second\nreturn of some goods from my brother (as I now call him) in Virginia,\nto make up the damage of the cargo I brought away with me, and this too\nwas upon the condition of my sealing a general release to him, and to\nsend it him by his correspondent at Bristol, which, though I thought\nhard of, yet I was obliged to promise to do. However, I managed so well\nin this case, that I got my goods away before the release was signed,\nand then I always found something or other to say to evade the thing,\nand to put off the signing it at all; till at length I pretended I must\nwrite to my brother, and have his answer, before I could do it.\nIncluding this recruit, and before I got the last \u00a350, I found my\nstrength to amount, put all together, to about \u00a3400, so that with that\nI had about \u00a3450. I had saved above \u00a3100 more, but I met with a\ndisaster with that, which was this\u2014that a goldsmith in whose hands I\nhad trusted it, broke, so I lost \u00a370 of my money, the man\u2019s composition\nnot making above \u00a330 out of his \u00a3100. I had a little plate, but not\nmuch, and was well enough stocked with clothes and linen.\nWith this stock I had the world to begin again; but you are to consider\nthat I was not now the same woman as when I lived at Redriff; for,\nfirst of all, I was near twenty years older, and did not look the\nbetter for my age, nor for my rambles to Virginia and back again; and\nthough I omitted nothing that might set me out to advantage, except\npainting, for that I never stooped to, and had pride enough to think I\ndid not want it, yet there would always be some difference seen between\nfive-and-twenty and two-and-forty.\nI cast about innumerable ways for my future state of life, and began to\nconsider very seriously what I should do, but nothing offered. I took\ncare to make the world take me for something more than I was, and had\nit given out that I was a fortune, and that my estate was in my own\nhands; the last of which was very true, the first of it was as above. I\nhad no acquaintance, which was one of my worst misfortunes, and the\nconsequence of that was, I had no adviser, at least who could assist\nand advise together; and above all, I had nobody to whom I could in\nconfidence commit the secret of my circumstances to, and could depend\nupon for their secrecy and fidelity; and I found by experience, that to\nbe friendless is the worst condition, next to being in want that a\nwoman can be reduced to: I say a woman, because \u2019tis evident men can be\ntheir own advisers, and their own directors, and know how to work\nthemselves out of difficulties and into business better than women; but\nif a woman has no friend to communicate her affairs to, and to advise\nand assist her, \u2019tis ten to one but she is undone; nay, and the more\nmoney she has, the more danger she is in of being wronged and deceived;\nand this was my case in the affair of the \u00a3100 which I left in the\nhands of the goldsmith, as above, whose credit, it seems, was upon the\nebb before, but I, that had no knowledge of things and nobody to\nconsult with, knew nothing of it, and so lost my money.\nIn the next place, when a woman is thus left desolate and void of\ncounsel, she is just like a bag of money or a jewel dropped on the\nhighway, which is a prey to the next comer; if a man of virtue and\nupright principles happens to find it, he will have it cried, and the\nowner may come to hear of it again; but how many times shall such a\nthing fall into hands that will make no scruple of seizing it for their\nown, to once that it shall come into good hands?\nThis was evidently my case, for I was now a loose, unguided creature,\nand had no help, no assistance, no guide for my conduct; I knew what I\naimed at and what I wanted, but knew nothing how to pursue the end by\ndirect means. I wanted to be placed in a settle state of living, and\nhad I happened to meet with a sober, good husband, I should have been\nas faithful and true a wife to him as virtue itself could have formed.\nIf I had been otherwise, the vice came in always at the door of\nnecessity, not at the door of inclination; and I understood too well,\nby the want of it, what the value of a settled life was, to do anything\nto forfeit the felicity of it; nay, I should have made the better wife\nfor all the difficulties I had passed through, by a great deal; nor did\nI in any of the time that I had been a wife give my husbands the least\nuneasiness on account of my behaviour.\nBut all this was nothing; I found no encouraging prospect. I waited; I\nlived regularly, and with as much frugality as became my circumstances,\nbut nothing offered, nothing presented, and the main stock wasted\napace. What to do I knew not; the terror of approaching poverty lay\nhard upon my spirits. I had some money, but where to place it I knew\nnot, nor would the interest of it maintain me, at least not in London.\nAt length a new scene opened. There was in the house where I lodged a\nnorth-country woman that went for a gentlewoman, and nothing was more\nfrequent in her discourse than her account of the cheapness of\nprovisions, and the easy way of living in her country; how plentiful\nand how cheap everything was, what good company they kept, and the\nlike; till at last I told her she almost tempted me to go and live in\nher country; for I that was a widow, though I had sufficient to live\non, yet had no way of increasing it; and that I found I could not live\nhere under \u00a3100 a year, unless I kept no company, no servant, made no\nappearance, and buried myself in privacy, as if I was obliged to it by\nnecessity.\nI should have observed, that she was always made to believe, as\neverybody else was, that I was a great fortune, or at least that I had\nthree or four thousand pounds, if not more, and all in my own hands;\nand she was mighty sweet upon me when she thought me inclined in the\nleast to go into her country. She said she had a sister lived near\nLiverpool, that her brother was a considerable gentleman there, and had\na great estate also in Ireland; that she would go down there in about\ntwo months, and if I would give her my company thither, I should be as\nwelcome as herself for a month or more as I pleased, till I should see\nhow I liked the country; and if I thought fit to live there, she would\nundertake they would take care, though they did not entertain lodgers\nthemselves, they would recommend me to some agreeable family, where I\nshould be placed to my content.\nIf this woman had known my real circumstances, she would never have\nlaid so many snares, and taken so many weary steps to catch a poor\ndesolate creature that was good for little when it was caught; and\nindeed I, whose case was almost desperate, and thought I could not be\nmuch worse, was not very anxious about what might befall me, provided\nthey did me no personal injury; so I suffered myself, though not\nwithout a great deal of invitation and great professions of sincere\nfriendship and real kindness\u2014I say, I suffered myself to be prevailed\nupon to go with her, and accordingly I packed up my baggage, and put\nmyself in a posture for a journey, though I did not absolutely know\nwhither I was to go.\nAnd now I found myself in great distress; what little I had in the\nworld was all in money, except as before, a little plate, some linen,\nand my clothes; as for my household stuff, I had little or none, for I\nhad lived always in lodgings; but I had not one friend in the world\nwith whom to trust that little I had, or to direct me how to dispose of\nit, and this perplexed me night and day. I thought of the bank, and of\nthe other companies in London, but I had no friend to commit the\nmanagement of it to, and keep and carry about with me bank bills,\ntallies, orders, and such things, I looked upon at as unsafe; that if\nthey were lost, my money was lost, and then I was undone; and, on the\nother hand, I might be robbed and perhaps murdered in a strange place\nfor them. This perplexed me strangely, and what to do I knew not.\nIt came in my thoughts one morning that I would go to the bank myself,\nwhere I had often been to receive the interest of some bills I had,\nwhich had interest payable on them, and where I had found a clerk, to\nwhom I applied myself, very honest and just to me, and particularly so\nfair one time that when I had mistold my money, and taken less than my\ndue, and was coming away, he set me to rights and gave me the rest,\nwhich he might have put into his own pocket.\nI went to him and represented my case very plainly, and asked if he\nwould trouble himself to be my adviser, who was a poor friendless\nwidow, and knew not what to do. He told me, if I desired his opinion of\nanything within the reach of his business, he would do his endeavour\nthat I should not be wronged, but that he would also help me to a good\nsober person who was a grave man of his acquaintance, who was a clerk\nin such business too, though not in their house, whose judgment was\ngood, and whose honesty I might depend upon. \u201cFor,\u201d added he, \u201cI will\nanswer for him, and for every step he takes; if he wrongs you, madam,\nof one farthing, it shall lie at my door, I will make it good; and he\ndelights to assist people in such cases\u2014he does it as an act of\ncharity.\u201d\nI was a little at a stand in this discourse; but after some pause I\ntold him I had rather have depended upon him, because I had found him\nhonest, but if that could not be, I would take his recommendation\nsooner than any one\u2019s else. \u201cI dare say, madam,\u201d says he, \u201cthat you\nwill be as well satisfied with my friend as with me, and he is\nthoroughly able to assist you, which I am not.\u201d It seems he had his\nhands full of the business of the bank, and had engaged to meddle with\nno other business than that of his office, which I heard afterwards,\nbut did not understand then. He added, that his friend should take\nnothing of me for his advice or assistance, and this indeed encouraged\nme very much.\nHe appointed the same evening, after the bank was shut and business\nover, for me to meet him and his friend. And indeed as soon as I saw\nhis friend, and he began but to talk of the affair, I was fully\nsatisfied that I had a very honest man to deal with; his countenance\nspoke it, and his character, as I heard afterwards, was everywhere so\ngood, that I had no room for any more doubts upon me.\nAfter the first meeting, in which I only said what I had said before,\nwe parted, and he appointed me to come the next day to him, telling me\nI might in the meantime satisfy myself of him by inquiry, which,\nhowever, I knew not how well to do, having no acquaintance myself.\nAccordingly I met him the next day, when I entered more freely with him\ninto my case. I told him my circumstances at large: that I was a widow\ncome over from America, perfectly desolate and friendless; that I had a\nlittle money, and but a little, and was almost distracted for fear of\nlosing it, having no friend in the world to trust with the management\nof it; that I was going into the north of England to live cheap, that\nmy stock might not waste; that I would willingly lodge my money in the\nbank, but that I durst not carry the bills about me, and the like, as\nabove; and how to correspond about it, or with whom, I knew not.\nHe told me I might lodge the money in the bank as an account, and its\nbeing entered into the books would entitle me to the money at any time,\nand if I was in the north I might draw bills on the cashier and receive\nit when I would; but that then it would be esteemed as running cash,\nand the bank would give no interest for it; that I might buy stock with\nit, and so it would lie in store for me, but that then if I wanted to\ndispose if it, I must come up to town on purpose to transfer it, and\neven it would be with some difficulty I should receive the half-yearly\ndividend, unless I was here in person, or had some friend I could trust\nwith having the stock in his name to do it for me, and that would have\nthe same difficulty in it as before; and with that he looked hard at me\nand smiled a little. At last, says he, \u201cWhy do you not get a head\nsteward, madam, that may take you and your money together into keeping,\nand then you would have the trouble taken off your hands?\u201d \u201cAy, sir,\nand the money too, it may be,\u201d said I; \u201cfor truly I find the hazard\nthat way is as much as \u2019tis t\u2019other way\u201d; but I remember I said\nsecretly to myself, \u201cI wish you would ask me the question fairly, I\nwould consider very seriously on it before I said No.\u201d\nHe went on a good way with me, and I thought once or twice he was in\nearnest, but to my real affliction, I found at last he had a wife; but\nwhen he owned he had a wife he shook his head, and said with some\nconcern, that indeed he had a wife, and no wife. I began to think he\nhad been in the condition of my late lover, and that his wife had been\ndistempered or lunatic, or some such thing. However, we had not much\nmore discourse at that time, but he told me he was in too much hurry of\nbusiness then, but that if I would come home to his house after their\nbusiness was over, he would by that time consider what might be done\nfor me, to put my affairs in a posture of security. I told him I would\ncome, and desired to know where he lived. He gave me a direction in\nwriting, and when he gave it me he read it to me, and said, \u201cThere\n\u2019tis, madam, if you dare trust yourself with me.\u201d \u201cYes, sir,\u201d said I,\n\u201cI believe I may venture to trust you with myself, for you have a wife,\nyou say, and I don\u2019t want a husband; besides, I dare trust you with my\nmoney, which is all I have in the world, and if that were gone, I may\ntrust myself anywhere.\u201d\nHe said some things in jest that were very handsome and mannerly, and\nwould have pleased me very well if they had been in earnest; but that\npassed over, I took the directions, and appointed to attend him at his\nhouse at seven o\u2019clock the same evening.\nWhen I came he made several proposals for my placing my money in the\nbank, in order to my having interest for it; but still some difficulty\nor other came in the way, which he objected as not safe; and I found\nsuch a sincere disinterested honesty in him, that I began to muse with\nmyself, that I had certainly found the honest man I wanted, and that I\ncould never put myself into better hands; so I told him with a great\ndeal of frankness that I had never met with a man or woman yet that I\ncould trust, or in whom I could think myself safe, but that I saw he\nwas so disinterestedly concerned for my safety, that I said I would\nfreely trust him with the management of that little I had, if he would\naccept to be steward for a poor widow that could give him no salary.\nHe smiled and, standing up, with great respect saluted me. He told me\nhe could not but take it very kindly that I had so good an opinion of\nhim; that he would not deceive me, that he would do anything in his\npower to serve me, and expect no salary; but that he could not by any\nmeans accept of a trust, that it might bring him to be suspected of\nself-interest, and that if I should die he might have disputes with my\nexecutors, which he should be very loth to encumber himself with.\nI told him if those were all his objections I would soon remove them,\nand convince him that there was not the least room for any difficulty;\nfor that, first, as for suspecting him, if ever I should do it, now is\nthe time to suspect him, and not put the trust into his hands, and\nwhenever I did suspect him, he could but throw it up then and refuse to\ngo any further. Then, as to executors, I assured him I had no heirs,\nnor any relations in England, and I should alter my condition before I\ndied, and then his trust and trouble should cease together, which,\nhowever, I had no prospect of yet; but I told him if I died as I was,\nit should be all his own, and he would deserve it by being so faithful\nto me as I was satisfied he would be.\nHe changed his countenance at this discourse, and asked me how I came\nto have so much good-will for him; and, looking very much pleased, said\nhe might very lawfully wish he was a single man for my sake. I smiled,\nand told him as he was not, my offer could have no design upon him in\nit, and to wish, as he did, was not to be allowed, \u2019twas criminal to\nhis wife.\nHe told me I was wrong. \u201cFor,\u201d says he, \u201cmadam, as I said before, I\nhave a wife and no wife, and \u2019twould be no sin to me to wish her\nhanged, if that were all.\u201d \u201cI know nothing of your circumstances that\nway, sir,\u201d said I; \u201cbut it cannot be innocent to wish your wife dead.\u201d\n\u201cI tell you,\u201d says he again, \u201cshe is a wife and no wife; you don\u2019t know\nwhat I am, or what she is.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d said I; \u201csir, I do not know what you are, but I believe\nyou to be an honest man, and that\u2019s the cause of all my confidence in\nyou.\u201d\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d says he, \u201cand so I am, I hope, too. But I am something\nelse too, madam; for,\u201d says he, \u201cto be plain with you, I am a cuckold,\nand she is a whore.\u201d He spoke it in a kind of jest, but it was with\nsuch an awkward smile, that I perceived it was what struck very close\nto him, and he looked dismally when he said it.\n\u201cThat alters the case indeed, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cas to that part you were\nspeaking of; but a cuckold, you know, may be an honest man; it does not\nalter that case at all. Besides, I think,\u201d said I, \u201csince your wife is\nso dishonest to you, you are too honest to her to own her for your\nwife; but that,\u201d said I, \u201cis what I have nothing to do with.\u201d\n\u201cNay,\u201d says he, \u201cI do not think to clear my hands of her; for, to be\nplain with you, madam,\u201d added he, \u201cI am no contended cuckold neither:\non the other hand, I assure you it provokes me the highest degree, but\nI can\u2019t help myself; she that will be a whore, will be a whore.\u201d\nI waived the discourse and began to talk of my business; but I found he\ncould not have done with it, so I let him alone, and he went on to tell\nme all the circumstances of his case, too long to relate here;\nparticularly, that having been out of England some time before he came\nto the post he was in, she had had two children in the meantime by an\nofficer of the army; and that when he came to England and, upon her\nsubmission, took her again, and maintained her very well, yet she ran\naway from him with a linen-draper\u2019s apprentice, robbed him of what she\ncould come at, and continued to live from him still. \u201cSo that, madam,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cshe is a whore not by necessity, which is the common bait of\nyour sex, but by inclination, and for the sake of the vice.\u201d\nWell, I pitied him, and wished him well rid of her, and still would\nhave talked of my business, but it would not do. At last he looks\nsteadily at me. \u201cLook you, madam,\u201d says he, \u201cyou came to ask advice of\nme, and I will serve you as faithfully as if you were my own sister;\nbut I must turn the tables, since you oblige me to do it, and are so\nfriendly to me, and I think I must ask advice of you. Tell me, what\nmust a poor abused fellow do with a whore? What can I do to do myself\njustice upon her?\u201d\n\u201cAlas! sir,\u201d says I, \u201c\u2019tis a case too nice for me to advise in, but it\nseems she has run away from you, so you are rid of her fairly; what can\nyou desire more?\u201d \u201cAy, she is gone indeed,\u201d said he, \u201cbut I am not\nclear of her for all that.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d says I; \u201cshe may indeed run you into debt, but the law\nhas furnished you with methods to prevent that also; you may cry her\ndown, as they call it.\u201d\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d says he, \u201cthat is not the case neither; I have taken care of\nall that; \u2019tis not that part that I speak of, but I would be rid of her\nso that I might marry again.\u201d\n\u201cWell, sir,\u201d says I, \u201cthen you must divorce her. If you can prove what\nyou say, you may certainly get that done, and then, I suppose, you are\nfree.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s very tedious and expensive,\u201d says he.\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cif you can get any woman you like to take your word, I\nsuppose your wife would not dispute the liberty with you that she takes\nherself.\u201d\n\u201cAy,\u201d says he, \u201cbut \u2019twould be hard to bring an honest woman to do\nthat; and for the other sort,\u201d says he, \u201cI have had enough of her to\nmeddle with any more whores.\u201d\nIt occurred to me presently, \u201cI would have taken your word with all my\nheart, if you had but asked me the question\u201d; but that was to myself.\nTo him I replied, \u201cWhy, you shut the door against any honest woman\naccepting you, for you condemn all that should venture upon you at\nonce, and conclude, that really a woman that takes you now can\u2019t be\nhonest.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201cI wish you would satisfy me that an honest woman would\ntake me; I\u2019d venture it\u201d; and then turns short upon me, \u201cWill you take\nme, madam?\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s not a fair question,\u201d says I, \u201cafter what you have said;\nhowever, lest you should think I wait only for a recantation of it, I\nshall answer you plainly, No, not I; my business is of another kind\nwith you, and I did not expect you would have turned my serious\napplication to you, in my own distracted case, into a comedy.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, madam,\u201d says he, \u201cmy case is as distracted as yours can be, and I\nstand in as much need of advice as you do, for I think if I have not\nrelief somewhere, I shall be made myself, and I know not what course to\ntake, I protest to you.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, sir,\u201d says I, \u201c\u2019tis easy to give advice in your case, much easier\nthan it is in mine.\u201d \u201cSpeak then,\u201d says he, \u201cI beg of you, for now you\nencourage me.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cif your case is so plain as you say it is, you may be\nlegally divorced, and then you may find honest women enough to ask the\nquestion of fairly; the sex is not so scarce that you can want a wife.\u201d\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d said he, \u201cI am in earnest; I\u2019ll take your advice; but\nshall I ask you one question seriously beforehand?\u201d\n\u201cAny question,\u201d said I, \u201cbut that you did before.\u201d\n\u201cNo, that answer will not do,\u201d said he, \u201cfor, in short, that is the\nquestion I shall ask.\u201d\n\u201cYou may ask what questions you please, but you have my answer to that\nalready,\u201d said I. \u201cBesides, sir,\u201d said I, \u201ccan you think so ill of me\nas that I would give any answer to such a question beforehand? Can any\nwoman alive believe you in earnest, or think you design anything but to\nbanter her?\u201d\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d says he, \u201cI do not banter you, I am in earnest; consider\nof it.\u201d\n\u201cBut, sir,\u201d says I, a little gravely, \u201cI came to you about my own\nbusiness; I beg of you to let me know, what you will advise me to do?\u201d\n\u201cI will be prepared,\u201d says he, \u201cagainst you come again.\u201d\n\u201cNay,\u201d says I, \u201cyou have forbid my coming any more.\u201d\n\u201cWhy so?\u201d said he, and looked a little surprised.\n\u201cBecause,\u201d said I, \u201cyou can\u2019t expect I should visit you on the account\nyou talk of.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cyou shall promise me to come again, however, and I\nwill not say any more of it till I have gotten the divorce, but I\ndesire you will prepare to be better conditioned when that\u2019s done, for\nyou shall be the woman, or I will not be divorced at all; why, I owe it\nto your unlooked-for kindness, if it were to nothing else, but I have\nother reasons too.\u201d\nHe could not have said anything in the world that pleased me better;\nhowever, I knew that the way to secure him was to stand off while the\nthing was so remote, as it appeared to be, and that it was time enough\nto accept of it when he was able to perform it; so I said very\nrespectfully to him, it was time enough to consider of these things\nwhen he was in a condition to talk of them; in the meantime, I told\nhim, I was going a great way from him, and he would find objects enough\nto please him better. We broke off here for the present, and he made me\npromise him to come again the next day, for his resolutions upon my own\nbusiness, which after some pressing I did; though had he seen farther\ninto me, I wanted no pressing on that account.\nI came the next evening, accordingly, and brought my maid with me, to\nlet him see that I kept a maid, but I sent her away as soon as I was\ngone in. He would have had me let the maid have stayed, but I would\nnot, but ordered her aloud to come for me again about nine o\u2019clock. But\nhe forbade that, and told me he would see me safe home, which, by the\nway, I was not very well pleased with, supposing he might do that to\nknow where I lived and inquire into my character and circumstances.\nHowever, I ventured that, for all that the people there or thereabout\nknew of me, was to my advantage; and all the character he had of me,\nafter he had inquired, was that I was a woman of fortune, and that I\nwas a very modest, sober body; which, whether true or not in the main,\nyet you may see how necessary it is for all women who expect anything\nin the world, to preserve the character of their virtue, even when\nperhaps they may have sacrificed the thing itself.\nI found, and was not a little please with it, that he had provided a\nsupper for me. I found also he lived very handsomely, and had a house\nvery handsomely furnished; all of which I was rejoiced at indeed, for I\nlooked upon it as all my own.\nWe had now a second conference upon the subject-matter of the last\nconference. He laid his business very home indeed; he protested his\naffection to me, and indeed I had no room to doubt it; he declared that\nit began from the first moment I talked with him, and long before I had\nmentioned leaving my effects with him. \u201c\u2019Tis no matter when it began,\u201d\nthought I; \u201cif it will but hold, \u2019twill be well enough.\u201d He then told\nme how much the offer I had made of trusting him with my effects, and\nleaving them to him, had engaged him. \u201cSo I intended it should,\u201d\nthought I, \u201cbut then I thought you had been a single man too.\u201d After we\nhad supped, I observed he pressed me very hard to drink two or three\nglasses of wine, which, however, I declined, but drank one glass or\ntwo. He then told me he had a proposal to make to me, which I should\npromise him I would not take ill if I should not grant it. I told him I\nhoped he would make no dishonourable proposal to me, especially in his\nown house, and that if it was such, I desired he would not propose it,\nthat I might not be obliged to offer any resentment to him that did not\nbecome the respect I professed for him, and the trust I had placed in\nhim in coming to his house; and begged of him he would give me leave to\ngo away, and accordingly began to put on my gloves and prepare to be\ngone, though at the same time I no more intended it than he intended to\nlet me.\nWell, he importuned me not to talk of going; he assured me he had no\ndishonourable thing in his thoughts about me, and was very far from\noffering anything to me that was dishonourable, and if I thought so, he\nwould choose to say no more of it.\nThat part I did not relish at all. I told him I was ready to hear\nanything that he had to say, depending that he would say nothing\nunworthy of himself, or unfit for me to hear. Upon this, he told me his\nproposal was this: that I would marry him, though he had not yet\nobtained the divorce from the whore his wife; and to satisfy me that he\nmeant honourably, he would promise not to desire me to live with him,\nor go to bed with him till the divorce was obtained. My heart said yes\nto this offer at first word, but it was necessary to play the hypocrite\na little more with him; so I seemed to decline the motion with some\nwarmth, and besides a little condemning the thing as unfair, told him\nthat such a proposal could be of no signification, but to entangle us\nboth in great difficulties; for if he should not at last obtain the\ndivorce, yet we could not dissolve the marriage, neither could we\nproceed in it; so that if he was disappointed in the divorce, I left\nhim to consider what a condition we should both be in.\nIn short, I carried on the argument against this so far, that I\nconvinced him it was not a proposal that had any sense in it. Well,\nthen he went from it to another, and that was, that I would sign and\nseal a contract with him, conditioning to marry him as soon as the\ndivorce was obtained, and to be void if he could not obtain it.\nI told him such a thing was more rational than the other; but as this\nwas the first time that ever I could imagine him weak enough to be in\nearnest in this affair, I did not use to say Yes at first asking; I\nwould consider of it.\nI played with this lover as an angler does with a trout. I found I had\nhim fast on the hook, so I jested with his new proposal, and put him\noff. I told him he knew little of me, and bade him inquire about me; I\nlet him also go home with me to my lodging, though I would not ask him\nto go in, for I told him it was not decent.\nIn short, I ventured to avoid signing a contract of marriage, and the\nreason why I did it was because the lady that had invited me so\nearnestly to go with her into Lancashire insisted so positively upon\nit, and promised me such great fortunes, and such fine things there,\nthat I was tempted to go and try. \u201cPerhaps,\u201d said I, \u201cI may mend myself\nvery much\u201d; and then I made no scruple in my thoughts of quitting my\nhonest citizen, whom I was not so much in love with as not to leave him\nfor a richer.\nIn a word, I avoided a contract; but told him I would go into the\nnorth, that he should know where to write to me by the consequence of\nthe business I had entrusted with him; that I would give him a\nsufficient pledge of my respect for him, for I would leave almost all I\nhad in the world in his hands; and I would thus far give him my word,\nthat as soon as he had sued out a divorce from his first wife, he would\nsend me an account of it, I would come up to London, and that then we\nwould talk seriously of the matter.\nIt was a base design I went with, that I must confess, though I was\ninvited thither with a design much worse than mine was, as the sequel\nwill discover. Well, I went with my friend, as I called her, into\nLancashire. All the way we went she caressed me with the utmost\nappearance of a sincere, undissembled affection; treated me, except my\ncoach-hire, all the way; and her brother brought a gentleman\u2019s coach to\nWarrington to receive us, and we were carried from thence to Liverpool\nwith as much ceremony as I could desire. We were also entertained at a\nmerchant\u2019s house in Liverpool three or four days very handsomely; I\nforbear to tell his name, because of what followed. Then she told me\nshe would carry me to an uncle\u2019s house of hers, where we should be\nnobly entertained. She did so; her uncle, as she called him, sent a\ncoach and four horses for us, and we were carried near forty miles I\nknow not whither.\nWe came, however, to a gentleman\u2019s seat, where was a numerous family, a\nlarge park, extraordinary company indeed, and where she was called\ncousin. I told her if she had resolved to bring me into such company as\nthis, she should have let me have prepared myself, and have furnished\nmyself with better clothes. The ladies took notice of that, and told me\nvery genteelly they did not value people in their country so much by\ntheir clothes as they did in London; that their cousin had fully\ninformed them of my quality, and that I did not want clothes to set me\noff; in short, they entertained me, not like what I was, but like what\nthey thought I had been, namely, a widow lady of a great fortune.\nThe first discovery I made here was, that the family were all Roman\nCatholics, and the cousin too, whom I called my friend; however, I must\nsay that nobody in the world could behave better to me, and I had all\nthe civility shown me that I could have had if I had been of their\nopinion. The truth is, I had not so much principle of any kind as to be\nnice in point of religion, and I presently learned to speak favourably\nof the Romish Church; particularly, I told them I saw little but the\nprejudice of education in all the difference that were among Christians\nabout religion, and if it had so happened that my father had been a\nRoman Catholic, I doubted not but I should have been as well pleased\nwith their religion as my own.\nThis obliged them in the highest degree, and as I was besieged day and\nnight with good company and pleasant discourse, so I had two or three\nold ladies that lay at me upon the subject of religion too. I was so\ncomplaisant, that though I would not completely engage, yet I made no\nscruple to be present at their mass, and to conform to all their\ngestures as they showed me the pattern, but I would not come too cheap;\nso that I only in the main encouraged them to expect that I would turn\nRoman Catholic, if I was instructed in the Catholic doctrine as they\ncalled it, and so the matter rested.\nI stayed here about six weeks; and then my conductor led me back to a\ncountry village, about six miles from Liverpool, where her brother (as\nshe called him) came to visit me in his own chariot, and in a very good\nfigure, with two footmen in a good livery; and the next thing was to\nmake love to me. As it had happened to me, one would think I could not\nhave been cheated, and indeed I thought so myself, having a safe card\nat home, which I resolved not to quit unless I could mend myself very\nmuch. However, in all appearance this brother was a match worth my\nlistening to, and the least his estate was valued at was \u00a31000 a year,\nbut the sister said it was worth \u00a31500 a year, and lay most of it in\nIreland.\nI that was a great fortune, and passed for such, was above being asked\nhow much my estate was; and my false friend taking it upon a foolish\nhearsay, had raised it from \u00a3500 to \u00a35000, and by the time she came\ninto the country she called it \u00a315,000. The Irishman, for such I\nunderstood him to be, was stark mad at this bait; in short, he courted\nme, made me presents, and ran in debt like a madman for the expenses of\nhis equipage and of his courtship. He had, to give him his due, the\nappearance of an extraordinary fine gentleman; he was tall,\nwell-shaped, and had an extraordinary address; talked as naturally of\nhis park and his stables, of his horses, his gamekeepers, his woods,\nhis tenants, and his servants, as if we had been in the mansion-house,\nand I had seen them all about me.\nHe never so much as asked me about my fortune or estate, but assured me\nthat when we came to Dublin he would jointure me in \u00a3600 a year good\nland; and that we could enter into a deed of settlement or contract\nhere for the performance of it.\nThis was such language indeed as I had not been used to, and I was here\nbeaten out of all my measures; I had a she-devil in my bosom, every\nhour telling me how great her brother lived. One time she would come\nfor my orders, how I would have my coaches painted, and how lined; and\nanother time what clothes my page should wear; in short, my eyes were\ndazzled. I had now lost my power of saying No, and, to cut the story\nshort, I consented to be married; but to be the more private, we were\ncarried farther into the country, and married by a Romish clergyman,\nwho I was assured would marry us as effectually as a Church of England\nparson.\nI cannot say but I had some reflections in this affair upon the\ndishonourable forsaking my faithful citizen, who loved me sincerely,\nand who was endeavouring to quit himself of a scandalous whore by whom\nhe had been indeed barbarously used, and promised himself infinite\nhappiness in his new choice; which choice was now giving up herself to\nanother in a manner almost as scandalous as hers could be.\nBut the glittering shoe of a great estate, and of fine things, which\nthe deceived creature that was now my deceiver represented every hour\nto my imagination, hurried me away, and gave me no time to think of\nLondon, or of anything there, much less of the obligation I had to a\nperson of infinitely more real merit than what was now before me.\nBut the thing was done; I was now in the arms of my new spouse, who\nappeared still the same as before; great even to magnificence, and\nnothing less than \u00a31000 a year could support the ordinary equipage he\nappeared in.\nAfter we had been married about a month, he began to talk of my going\nto West Chester in order to embark for Ireland. However, he did not\nhurry me, for we stayed near three weeks longer, and then he sent to\nChester for a coach to meet us at the Black Rock, as they call it, over\nagainst Liverpool. Thither we went in a fine boat they call a pinnace,\nwith six oars; his servants, and horses, and baggage going in the\nferry-boat. He made his excuse to me that he had no acquaintance in\nChester, but he would go before and get some handsome apartment for me\nat a private house. I asked him how long we should stay at Chester. He\nsaid, not at all, any longer than one night or two, but he would\nimmediately hire a coach to go to Holyhead. Then I told him he should\nby no means give himself the trouble to get private lodgings for one\nnight or two, for that Chester being a great place, I made no doubt but\nthere would be very good inns and accommodation enough; so we lodged at\nan inn in the West Street, not far from the Cathedral; I forget what\nsign it was at.\nHere my spouse, talking of my going to Ireland, asked me if I had no\naffairs to settle at London before we went off. I told him No, not of\nany great consequence, but what might be done as well by letter from\nDublin. \u201cMadam,\u201d says he, very respectfully, \u201cI suppose the greatest\npart of your estate, which my sister tells me is most of it in money in\nthe Bank of England, lies secure enough, but in case it required\ntransferring, or any way altering its property, it might be necessary\nto go up to London and settle those things before we went over.\u201d\nI seemed to look strange at it, and told him I knew not what he meant;\nthat I had no effects in the Bank of England that I knew of; and I\nhoped he could not say that I had ever told him I had. No, he said, I\nhad not told him so, but his sister had said the greatest part of my\nestate lay there. \u201cAnd I only mentioned it, me dear,\u201d said he, \u201cthat if\nthere was any occasion to settle it, or order anything about it, we\nmight not be obliged to the hazard and trouble of another voyage back\nagain\u201d; for he added, that he did not care to venture me too much upon\nthe sea.\nI was surprised at this talk, and began to consider very seriously what\nthe meaning of it must be; and it presently occurred to me that my\nfriend, who called him brother, had represented me in colours which\nwere not my due; and I thought, since it was come to that pitch, that I\nwould know the bottom of it before I went out of England, and before I\nshould put myself into I knew not whose hands in a strange country.\nUpon this I called his sister into my chamber the next morning, and\nletting her know the discourse her brother and I had been upon the\nevening before, I conjured her to tell me what she had said to him, and\nupon what foot it was that she had made this marriage. She owned that\nshe had told him that I was a great fortune, and said that she was told\nso at London. \u201cTold so!\u201d says I warmly; \u201cdid I ever tell you so?\u201d No,\nshe said, it was true I did not tell her so, but I had said several\ntimes that what I had was in my own disposal. \u201cI did so,\u201d returned I\nvery quickly and hastily, \u201cbut I never told you I had anything called a\nfortune; no, not that I had \u00a3100, or the value of \u00a3100, in the world.\nAny how did it consist with my being a fortune,\u201d said I, \u201cthat I should\ncome here into the north of England with you, only upon the account of\nliving cheap?\u201d At these words, which I spoke warm and high, my husband,\nher brother (as she called him), came into the room, and I desired him\nto come and sit down, for I had something of moment to say before them\nboth, which it was absolutely necessary he should hear.\nHe looked a little disturbed at the assurance with which I seemed to\nspeak it, and came and sat down by me, having first shut the door; upon\nwhich I began, for I was very much provoked, and turning myself to him,\n\u201cI am afraid,\u201d says I, \u201cmy dear\u201d (for I spoke with kindness on his\nside), \u201cthat you have a very great abuse put upon you, and an injury\ndone you never to be repaired in your marrying me, which, however, as I\nhave had no hand in it, I desire I may be fairly acquitted of it, and\nthat the blame may lie where it ought to lie, and nowhere else, for I\nwash my hands of every part of it.\u201d\n\u201cWhat injury can be done me, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cin marrying you. I\nhope it is to my honour and advantage every way.\u201d \u201cI will soon explain\nit to you,\u201d says I, \u201cand I fear you will have no reason to think\nyourself well used; but I will convince you, my dear,\u201d says I again,\n\u201cthat I have had no hand in it\u201d; and there I stopped a while.\nHe looked now scared and wild, and began, I believe, to suspect what\nfollowed; however, looking towards me, and saying only, \u201cGo on,\u201d he sat\nsilent, as if to hear what I had more to say; so I went on. \u201cI asked\nyou last night,\u201d said I, speaking to him, \u201cif ever I made any boast to\nyou of my estate, or ever told you I had any estate in the Bank of\nEngland or anywhere else, and you owned I had not, as is most true; and\nI desire you will tell me here, before your sister, if ever I gave you\nany reason from me to think so, or that ever we had any discourse about\nit\u201d; and he owned again I had not, but said I had appeared always as a\nwoman of fortune, and he depended on it that I was so, and hoped he was\nnot deceived. \u201cI am not inquiring yet whether you have been deceived or\nnot,\u201d said I; \u201cI fear you have, and I too; but I am clearing myself\nfrom the unjust charge of being concerned in deceiving you.\n\u201cI have been now asking your sister if ever I told her of any fortune\nor estate I had, or gave her any particulars of it; and she owns I\nnever did. Any pray, madam,\u201d said I, turning myself to her, \u201cbe so just\nto me, before your brother, to charge me, if you can, if ever I\npretended to you that I had an estate; and why, if I had, should I come\ndown into this country with you on purpose to spare that little I had,\nand live cheap?\u201d She could not deny one word, but said she had been\ntold in London that I had a very great fortune, and that it lay in the\nBank of England.\n\u201cAnd now, dear sir,\u201d said I, turning myself to my new spouse again, \u201cbe\nso just to me as to tell me who has abused both you and me so much as\nto make you believe I was a fortune, and prompt you to court me to this\nmarriage?\u201d He could not speak a word, but pointed to her; and, after\nsome more pause, flew out in the most furious passion that ever I saw a\nman in my life, cursing her, and calling her all the whores and hard\nnames he could think of; and that she had ruined him, declaring that\nshe had told him I had \u00a315,000, and that she was to have \u00a3500 of him\nfor procuring this match for him. He then added, directing his speech\nto me, that she was none of his sister, but had been his whore for two\nyears before, that she had had \u00a3100 of him in part of this bargain, and\nthat he was utterly undone if things were as I said; and in his raving\nhe swore he would let her heart\u2019s blood out immediately, which\nfrightened her and me too. She cried, said she had been told so in the\nhouse where I lodged. But this aggravated him more than before, that\nshe should put so far upon him, and run things such a length upon no\nother authority than a hearsay; and then, turning to me again, said\nvery honestly, he was afraid we were both undone. \u201cFor, to be plain, my\ndear, I have no estate,\u201d says he; \u201cwhat little I had, this devil has\nmade me run out in waiting on you and putting me into this equipage.\u201d\nShe took the opportunity of his being earnest in talking with me, and\ngot out of the room, and I never saw her more.\nI was confounded now as much as he, and knew not what to say. I thought\nmany ways that I had the worst of it, but his saying he was undone, and\nthat he had no estate neither, put me into a mere distraction. \u201cWhy,\u201d\nsays I to him, \u201cthis has been a hellish juggle, for we are married here\nupon the foot of a double fraud; you are undone by the disappointment,\nit seems; and if I had had a fortune I had been cheated too, for you\nsay you have nothing.\u201d\n\u201cYou would indeed have been cheated, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cbut you would\nnot have been undone, for \u00a315,000 would have maintained us both very\nhandsomely in this country; and I assure you,\u201d added he, \u201cI had\nresolved to have dedicated every groat of it to you; I would not have\nwronged you of a shilling, and the rest I would have made up in my\naffection to you, and tenderness of you, as long as I lived.\u201d\nThis was very honest indeed, and I really believe he spoke as he\nintended, and that he was a man that was as well qualified to make me\nhappy, as to his temper and behaviour, as any man ever was; but his\nhaving no estate, and being run into debt on this ridiculous account in\nthe country, made all the prospect dismal and dreadful, and I knew not\nwhat to say, or what to think of myself.\nI told him it was very unhappy that so much love, and so much good\nnature as I discovered in him, should be thus precipitated into misery;\nthat I saw nothing before us but ruin; for as to me, it was my\nunhappiness that what little I had was not able to relieve us week, and\nwith that I pulled out a bank bill of \u00a320 and eleven guineas, which I\ntold him I had saved out of my little income, and that by the account\nthat creature had given me of the way of living in that country, I\nexpected it would maintain me three or four years; that if it was taken\nfrom me, I was left destitute, and he knew what the condition of a\nwoman among strangers must be, if she had no money in her pocket;\nhowever, I told him, if he would take it, there it was.\nHe told me with a great concern, and I thought I saw tears stand in his\neyes, that he would not touch it; that he abhorred the thoughts of\nstripping me and make me miserable; that, on the contrary, he had fifty\nguineas left, which was all he had in the world, and he pulled it out\nand threw it down on the table, bidding me take it, though he were to\nstarve for want of it.\nI returned, with the same concern for him, that I could not bear to\nhear him talk so; that, on the contrary, if he could propose any\nprobable method of living, I would do anything that became me on my\npart, and that I would live as close and as narrow as he could desire.\nHe begged of me to talk no more at that rate, for it would make him\ndistracted; he said he was bred a gentleman, though he was reduced to a\nlow fortune, and that there was but one way left which he could think\nof, and that would not do, unless I could answer him one question,\nwhich, however, he said he would not press me to. I told him I would\nanswer it honestly; whether it would be to his satisfaction or not,\nthat I could not tell.\n\u201cWhy, then, my dear, tell me plainly,\u201d says he, \u201cwill the little you\nhave keep us together in any figure, or in any station or place, or\nwill it not?\u201d\nIt was my happiness hitherto that I had not discovered myself or my\ncircumstances at all\u2014no, not so much as my name; and seeing these was\nnothing to be expected from him, however good-humoured and however\nhonest he seemed to be, but to live on what I knew would soon be\nwasted, I resolved to conceal everything but the bank bill and the\neleven guineas which I had owned; and I would have been very glad to\nhave lost that and have been set down where he took me up. I had indeed\nanother bank bill about me of \u00a330, which was the whole of what I\nbrought with me, as well to subsist on in the country, as not knowing\nwhat might offer; because this creature, the go-between that had thus\nbetrayed us both, had made me believe strange things of my marrying to\nmy advantage in the country, and I was not willing to be without money,\nwhatever might happen. This bill I concealed, and that made me the\nfreer of the rest, in consideration of his circumstances, for I really\npitied him heartily.\nBut to return to his question, I told him I never willingly deceived\nhim, and I never would. I was very sorry to tell him that the little I\nhad would not subsist us; that it was not sufficient to subsist me\nalone in the south country, and that this was the reason that made me\nput myself into the hands of that woman who called him brother, she\nhaving assured me that I might board very handsomely at a town called\nManchester, where I had not yet been, for about \u00a36 a year; and my whole\nincome not being about \u00a315 a year, I thought I might live easy upon it,\nand wait for better things.\nHe shook his head and remained silent, and a very melancholy evening we\nhad; however, we supped together, and lay together that night, and when\nwe had almost supped he looked a little better and more cheerful, and\ncalled for a bottle of wine. \u201cCome, my dear,\u201d says he, \u201cthough the case\nis bad, it is to no purpose to be dejected. Come, be as easy as you\ncan; I will endeavour to find out some way or other to live; if you can\nbut subsist yourself, that is better than nothing. I must try the world\nagain; a man ought to think like a man; to be discouraged is to yield\nto the misfortune.\u201d With this he filled a glass and drank to me,\nholding my hand and pressing it hard in his hand all the while the wine\nwent down, and protesting afterwards his main concern was for me.\nIt was really a true, gallant spirit he was of, and it was the more\ngrievous to me. \u2019Tis something of relief even to be undone by a man of\nhonour, rather than by a scoundrel; but here the greatest\ndisappointment was on his side, for he had really spent a great deal of\nmoney, deluded by this madam the procuress; and it was very remarkable\non what poor terms he proceeded. First the baseness of the creature\nherself is to be observed, who, for the getting \u00a3100 herself, could be\ncontent to let him spend three or four more, though perhaps it was all\nhe had in the world, and more than all; when she had not the least\nground, more than a little tea-table chat, to say that I had any\nestate, or was a fortune, or the like. It is true the design of\ndeluding a woman of fortune, if I had been so, was base enough; the\nputting the face of great things upon poor circumstances was a fraud,\nand bad enough; but the case a little differed too, and that in his\nfavour, for he was not a rake that made a trade to delude women, and,\nas some have done, get six or seven fortunes after one another, and\nthen rifle and run away from them; but he was really a gentleman,\nunfortunate and low, but had lived well; and though, if I had had a\nfortune, I should have been enraged at the slut for betraying me, yet\nreally for the man, a fortune would not have been ill bestowed on him,\nfor he was a lovely person indeed, of generous principles, good sense,\nand of abundance of good-humour.\nWe had a great deal of close conversation that night, for we neither of\nus slept much; he was as penitent for having put all those cheats upon\nme as if it had been felony, and that he was going to execution; he\noffered me again every shilling of the money he had about him, and said\nhe would go into the army and seek the world for more.\nI asked him why he would be so unkind to carry me into Ireland, when I\nmight suppose he could not have subsisted me there. He took me in his\narms. \u201cMy dear,\u201d said he, \u201cdepend upon it, I never designed to go to\nIreland at all, much less to have carried you thither, but came hither\nto be out of the observation of the people, who had heard what I\npretended to, and withal, that nobody might ask me for money before I\nwas furnished to supply them.\u201d\n\u201cBut where, then,\u201d said I, \u201cwere we to have gone next?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, my dear,\u201d said he, \u201cI\u2019ll confess the whole scheme to you as I had\nlaid it; I purposed here to ask you something about your estate, as you\nsee I did, and when you, as I expected you would, had entered into some\naccount with me of the particulars, I would have made an excuse to you\nto have put off our voyage to Ireland for some time, and to have gone\nfirst towards London.\n\u201cThen, my dear,\u201d said he, \u201cI resolved to have confessed all the\ncircumstances of my own affairs to you, and let you know I had indeed\nmade use of these artifices to obtain your consent to marry me, but had\nnow nothing to do but ask to your pardon, and to tell you how\nabundantly, as I have said above, I would endeavour to make you forget\nwhat was past, by the felicity of the days to come.\u201d\n\u201cTruly,\u201d said I to him, \u201cI find you would soon have conquered me; and\nit is my affliction now, that I am not in a condition to let you see\nhow easily I should have been reconciled to you, and have passed by all\nthe tricks you had put upon me, in recompense of so much good-humour.\nBut, my dear,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat can we do now? We are both undone, and\nwhat better are we for our being reconciled together, seeing we have\nnothing to live on?\u201d\nWe proposed a great many things, but nothing could offer where there\nwas nothing to begin with. He begged me at last to talk no more of it,\nfor, he said, I would break his heart; so we talked of other things a\nlittle, till at last he took a husband\u2019s leave of me, and so we went to\nsleep.\nHe rose before me in the morning; and indeed, having lain awake almost\nall night, I was very sleepy, and lay till near eleven o\u2019clock. In this\ntime he took his horses and three servants, and all his linen and\nbaggage, and away he went, leaving a short but moving letter for me on\nthe table, as follows:\u2014\n\u201cMY DEAR\u2014I am a dog; I have abused you; but I have been drawn into do\nit by a base creature, contrary to my principle and the general\npractice of my life. Forgive me, my dear! I ask your pardon with the\ngreatest sincerity; I am the most miserable of men, in having deluded\nyou. I have been so happy to possess you, and now am so wretched as to\nbe forced to fly from you. Forgive me, my dear; once more I say,\nforgive me! I am not able to see you ruined by me, and myself unable to\nsupport you. Our marriage is nothing; I shall never be able to see you\nagain; I here discharge you from it; if you can marry to your\nadvantage, do not decline it on my account; I here swear to you on my\nfaith, and on the word of a man of honour, I will never disturb your\nrepose if I should know of it, which, however, is not likely. On the\nother hand, if you should not marry, and if good fortune should befall\nme, it shall be all yours, wherever you are.\n    \u2019I have put some of the stock of money I have left into your\n    pocket; take places for yourself and your maid in the stage-coach,\n    and go for London; I hope it will bear your charges thither,\n    without breaking into your own. Again I sincerely ask your pardon,\n    and will do so as often as I shall ever think of you.\n        Adieu, my dear, for ever,\n            I am, your most affectionately,\nNothing that ever befell me in my life sank so deep into my heart as\nthis farewell. I reproached him a thousand times in my thoughts for\nleaving me, for I would have gone with him through the world, if I had\nbegged my bread. I felt in my pocket, and there found ten guineas, his\ngold watch, and two little rings, one a small diamond ring worth only\nabout \u00a36, and the other a plain gold ring.\nI sat me down and looked upon these things two hours together, and\nscarce spoke a word, till my maid interrupted me by telling me my\ndinner was ready. I ate but little, and after dinner I fell into a\nvehement fit of crying, every now and then calling him by his name,\nwhich was James. \u201cO Jemmy!\u201d said I, \u201ccome back, come back. I\u2019ll give\nyou all I have; I\u2019ll beg, I\u2019ll starve with you.\u201d And thus I ran raving\nabout the room several times, and then sat down between whiles, and\nthen walking about again, called upon him to come back, and then cried\nagain; and thus I passed the afternoon, till about seven o\u2019clock, when\nit was near dusk, in the evening, being August, when, to my unspeakable\nsurprise, he comes back into the inn, but without a servant, and comes\ndirectly up into my chamber.\nI was in the greatest confusion imaginable, and so was he too. I could\nnot imagine what should be the occasion of it, and began to be at odds\nwith myself whether to be glad or sorry; but my affection biassed all\nthe rest, and it was impossible to conceal my joy, which was too great\nfor smiles, for it burst out into tears. He was no sooner entered the\nroom but he ran to me and took me in his arms, holding me fast, and\nalmost stopping my breath with his kisses, but spoke not a word. At\nlength I began. \u201cMy dear,\u201d said I, \u201chow could you go away from me?\u201d to\nwhich he gave no answer, for it was impossible for him to speak.\nWhen our ecstasies were a little over, he told me he was gone about\nfifteen miles, but it was not in his power to go any farther without\ncoming back to see me again, and to take his leave of me once more.\nI told him how I had passed my time, and how loud I had called him to\ncome back again. He told me he heard me very plain upon Delamere\nForest, at a place about twelve miles off. I smiled. \u201cNay,\u201d says he,\n\u201cdo not think I am in jest, for if ever I heard your voice in my life,\nI heard you call me aloud, and sometimes I thought I saw you running\nafter me.\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat did I say?\u201d\u2014for I had not named the\nwords to him. \u201cYou called aloud,\u201d says he, \u201cand said, O Jemmy! O Jemmy!\ncome back, come back.\u201d\nI laughed at him. \u201cMy dear,\u201d says he, \u201cdo not laugh, for, depend upon\nit, I heard your voice as plain as you hear mine now; if you please,\nI\u2019ll go before a magistrate and make oath of it.\u201d I then began to be\namazed and surprised, and indeed frightened, and told him what I had\nreally done, and how I had called after him, as above.\nWhen we had amused ourselves a while about this, I said to him: \u201cWell,\nyou shall go away from me no more; I\u2019ll go all over the world with you\nrather.\u201d He told me it would be a very difficult thing for him to leave\nme, but since it must be, he hoped I would make it as easy to me as I\ncould; but as for him, it would be his destruction that he foresaw.\nHowever, he told me that he considered he had left me to travel to\nLondon alone, which was too long a journey; and that as he might as\nwell go that way as any way else, he was resolved to see me safe\nthither, or near it; and if he did go away then without taking his\nleave, I should not take it ill of him; and this he made me promise.\nHe told me how he had dismissed his three servants, sold their horses,\nand sent the fellows away to seek their fortunes, and all in a little\ntime, at a town on the road, I know not where. \u201cAnd,\u201d says he, \u201cit cost\nme some tears all alone by myself, to think how much happier they were\nthan their master, for they could go to the next gentleman\u2019s house to\nsee for a service, whereas,\u201d said he, \u201cI knew not wither to go, or what\nto do with myself.\u201d\nI told him I was so completely miserable in parting with him, that I\ncould not be worse; and that now he was come again, I would not go from\nhim, if he would take me with him, let him go whither he would, or do\nwhat he would. And in the meantime I agreed that we would go together\nto London; but I could not be brought to consent he should go away at\nlast and not take his leave of me, as he proposed to do; but told him,\njesting, that if he did, I would call him back again as loud as I did\nbefore. Then I pulled out his watch and gave it him back, and his two\nrings, and his ten guineas; but he would not take them, which made me\nvery much suspect that he resolved to go off upon the road and leave\nme.\nThe truth is, the circumstances he was in, the passionate expressions\nof his letter, the kind, gentlemanly treatment I had from him in all\nthe affair, with the concern he showed for me in it, his manner of\nparting with that large share which he gave me of his little stock\nleft\u2014all these had joined to make such impressions on me, that I really\nloved him most tenderly, and could not bear the thoughts of parting\nwith him.\nTwo days after this we quitted Chester, I in the stage-coach, and he on\nhorseback. I dismissed my maid at Chester. He was very much against my\nbeing without a maid, but she being a servant hired in the country, and\nI resolving to keep no servant at London, I told him it would have been\nbarbarous to have taken the poor wench and have turned her away as soon\nas I came to town; and it would also have been a needless charge on the\nroad, so I satisfied him, and he was easy enough on the score.\nHe came with me as far as Dunstable, within thirty miles of London, and\nthen he told me fate and his own misfortunes obliged him to leave me,\nand that it was not convenient for him to go to London, for reasons\nwhich it was of no value to me to know, and I saw him preparing to go.\nThe stage-coach we were in did not usually stop at Dunstable, but I\ndesiring it but for a quarter of an hour, they were content to stand at\nan inn-door a while, and we went into the house.\nBeing in the inn, I told him I had but one favour more to ask of him,\nand that was, that since he could not go any farther, he would give me\nleave to stay a week or two in the town with him, that we might in that\ntime think of something to prevent such a ruinous thing to us both, as\na final separation would be; and that I had something of moment to\noffer him, that I had never said yet, and which perhaps he might find\npracticable to our mutual advantage.\nThis was too reasonable a proposal to be denied, so he called the\nlandlady of the house, and told her his wife was taken ill, and so ill\nthat she could not think of going any farther in the stage-coach, which\nhad tired her almost to death, and asked if she could not get us a\nlodging for two or three days in a private house, where I might rest me\na little, for the journey had been too much for me. The landlady, a\ngood sort of woman, well-bred and very obliging, came immediately to\nsee me; told me she had two or three very good rooms in a part of the\nhouse quite out of the noise, and if I saw them, she did not doubt but\nI would like them, and I should have one of her maids, that should do\nnothing else but be appointed to wait on me. This was so very kind,\nthat I could not but accept of it, and thank her; so I went to look on\nthe rooms and liked them very well, and indeed they were\nextraordinarily furnished, and very pleasant lodgings; so we paid the\nstage-coach, took out our baggage, and resolved to stay here a while.\nHere I told him I would live with him now till all my money was spent,\nbut would not let him spend a shilling of his own. We had some kind\nsquabble about that, but I told him it was the last time I was like to\nenjoy his company, and I desired he would let me be master in that\nthing only, and he should govern in everything else; so he acquiesced.\nHere one evening, taking a walk into the fields, I told him I would now\nmake the proposal to him I had told him of; accordingly I related to\nhim how I had lived in Virginia, that I had a mother I believed was\nalive there still, though my husband was dead some years. I told him\nthat had not my effects miscarried, which, by the way, I magnified\npretty much, I might have been fortune good enough to him to have kept\nus from being parted in this manner. Then I entered into the manner of\npeoples going over to those countries to settle, how they had a\nquantity of land given them by the Constitution of the place; and if\nnot, that it might be purchased at so easy a rate this it was not worth\nnaming.\nI then gave him a full and distinct account of the nature of planting;\nhow with carrying over but two or three hundred pounds value in English\ngoods, with some servants and tools, a man of application would\npresently lay a foundation for a family, and in a very few years be\ncertain to raise an estate.\nI let him into the nature of the product of the earth; how the ground\nwas cured and prepared, and what the usual increase of it was; and\ndemonstrated to him, that in a very few years, with such a beginning,\nwe should be as certain of being rich as we were now certain of being\npoor.\nHe was surprised at my discourse; for we made it the whole subject of\nour conversation for near a week together, in which time I laid it down\nin black and white, as we say, that it was morally impossible, with a\nsupposition of any reasonable good conduct, but that we must thrive\nthere and do very well.\nThen I told him what measures I would take to raise such a sum of \u00a3300\nor thereabouts; and I argued with him how good a method it would be to\nput an end to our misfortunes and restore our circumstances in the\nworld, to what we had both expected; and I added, that after seven\nyears, if we lived, we might be in a posture to leave our plantations\nin good hands, and come over again and receive the income of it, and\nlive here and enjoy it; and I gave him examples of some that had done\nso, and lived now in very good circumstances in London.\nIn short, I pressed him so to it, that he almost agreed to it, but\nstill something or other broke it off again; till at last he turned the\ntables, and he began to talk almost to the same purpose of Ireland.\nHe told me that a man that could confine himself to country life, and\nthat could find but stock to enter upon any land, should have farms\nthere for \u00a350 a year, as good as were here let for \u00a3200 a year; that\nthe produce was such, and so rich the land, that if much was not laid\nup, we were sure to live as handsomely upon it as a gentleman of \u00a33000\na year could do in England and that he had laid a scheme to leave me in\nLondon, and go over and try; and if he found he could lay a handsome\nfoundation of living suitable to the respect he had for me, as he\ndoubted not he should do, he would come over and fetch me.\nI was dreadfully afraid that upon such a proposal he would have taken\nme at my word, viz. to sell my little income as I called it, and turn\nit into money, and let him carry it over into Ireland and try his\nexperiment with it; but he was too just to desire it, or to have\naccepted it if I had offered it; and he anticipated me in that, for he\nadded, that he would go and try his fortune that way, and if he found\nhe could do anything at it to live, then, by adding mine to it when I\nwent over, we should live like ourselves; but that he would not hazard\na shilling of mine till he had made the experiment with a little, and\nhe assured me that if he found nothing to be done in Ireland, he would\nthen come to me and join in my project for Virginia.\nHe was so earnest upon his project being to be tried first, that I\ncould not withstand him; however, he promised to let me hear from him\nin a very little time after his arriving there, to let me know whether\nhis prospect answered his design, that if there was not a possibility\nof success, I might take the occasion to prepare for our other voyage,\nand then, he assured me, he would go with me to America with all his\nheart.\nI could bring him to nothing further than this. However, those\nconsultations entertained us near a month, during which I enjoyed his\ncompany, which indeed was the most entertaining that ever I met in my\nlife before. In this time he let me into the whole story of his own\nlife, which was indeed surprising, and full of an infinite variety\nsufficient to fill up a much brighter history, for its adventures and\nincidents, than any I ever saw in print; but I shall have occasion to\nsay more of him hereafter.\nWe parted at last, though with the utmost reluctance on my side; and\nindeed he took his leave very unwillingly too, but necessity obliged\nhim, for his reasons were very good why he would not come to London, as\nI understood more fully some time afterwards.\nI gave him a direction how to write to me, though still I reserved the\ngrand secret, and never broke my resolution, which was not to let him\never know my true name, who I was, or where to be found; he likewise\nlet me know how to write a letter to him, so that, he said, he would be\nsure to receive it.\nI came to London the next day after we parted, but did not go directly\nto my old lodgings; but for another nameless reason took a private\nlodging in St. John\u2019s Street, or, as it is vulgarly called, St.\nJones\u2019s, near Clerkenwell; and here, being perfectly alone, I had\nleisure to sit down and reflect seriously upon the last seven months\u2019\nramble I had made, for I had been abroad no less. The pleasant hours I\nhad with my last husband I looked back on with an infinite deal of\npleasure; but that pleasure was very much lessened when I found some\ntime after that I was really with child.\nThis was a perplexing thing, because of the difficulty which was before\nme where I should get leave to lie in; it being one of the nicest\nthings in the world at that time of day for a woman that was a\nstranger, and had no friends, to be entertained in that circumstance\nwithout security, which, by the way, I had not, neither could I procure\nany.\nI had taken care all this while to preserve a correspondence with my\nhonest friend at the bank, or rather he took care to correspond with\nme, for he wrote to me once a week; and though I had not spent my money\nso fast as to want any from him, yet I often wrote also to let him know\nI was alive. I had left directions in Lancashire, so that I had these\nletters, which he sent, conveyed to me; and during my recess at St.\nJones\u2019s received a very obliging letter from him, assuring me that his\nprocess for a divorce from his wife went on with success, though he met\nwith some difficulties in it that he did not expect.\nI was not displeased with the news that his process was more tedious\nthan he expected; for though I was in no condition to have him yet, not\nbeing so foolish to marry him when I knew myself to be with child by\nanother man, as some I know have ventured to do, yet I was not willing\nto lose him, and, in a word, resolved to have him if he continued in\nthe same mind, as soon as I was up again; for I saw apparently I should\nhear no more from my husband; and as he had all along pressed to marry,\nand had assured me he would not be at all disgusted at it, or ever\noffer to claim me again, so I made no scruple to resolve to do it if I\ncould, and if my other friend stood to his bargain; and I had a great\ndeal of reason to be assured that he would stand to it, by the letters\nhe wrote to me, which were the kindest and most obliging that could be.\nI now grew big, and the people where I lodged perceived it, and began\nto take notice of it to me, and, as far as civility would allow,\nintimated that I must think of removing. This put me to extreme\nperplexity, and I grew very melancholy, for indeed I knew not what\ncourse to take. I had money, but no friends, and was like to have a\nchild upon my hands to keep, which was a difficulty I had never had\nupon me yet, as the particulars of my story hitherto make appear.\nIn the course of this affair I fell very ill, and my melancholy really\nincreased my distemper; my illness proved at length to be only an ague,\nbut my apprehensions were really that I should miscarry. I should not\nsay apprehensions, for indeed I would have been glad to miscarry, but I\ncould never be brought to entertain so much as a thought of\nendeavouring to miscarry, or of taking any thing to make me miscarry; I\nabhorred, I say, so much as the thought of it.\nHowever, speaking of it in the house, the gentlewoman who kept the\nhouse proposed to me to send for a midwife. I scrupled it at first, but\nafter some time consented to it, but told her I had no particular\nacquaintance with any midwife, and so left it to her.\nIt seems the mistress of the house was not so great a stranger to such\ncases as mine was as I thought at first she had been, as will appear\npresently, and she sent for a midwife of the right sort\u2014that is to say,\nthe right sort for me.\nThe woman appeared to be an experienced woman in her business, I mean\nas a midwife; but she had another calling too, in which she was as\nexpert as most women if not more. My landlady had told her I was very\nmelancholy, and that she believed that had done me harm; and once,\nbefore me, said to her, \u201cMrs. B\u2014\u2014\u201d (meaning the midwife), \u201cI believe\nthis lady\u2019s trouble is of a kind that is pretty much in your way, and\ntherefore if you can do anything for her, pray do, for she is a very\ncivil gentlewoman\u201d; and so she went out of the room.\nI really did not understand her, but my Mother Midnight began very\nseriously to explain what she meant, as soon as she was gone. \u201cMadam,\u201d\nsays she, \u201cyou seem not to understand what your landlady means; and\nwhen you do understand it, you need not let her know at all that you do\nso.\n\u201cShe means that you are under some circumstances that may render your\nlying in difficult to you, and that you are not willing to be exposed.\nI need say no more, but to tell you, that if you think fit to\ncommunicate so much of your case to me, if it be so, as is necessary,\nfor I do not desire to pry into those things, I perhaps may be in a\nposition to help you and to make you perfectly easy, and remove all\nyour dull thoughts upon that subject.\u201d\nEvery word this creature said was a cordial to me, and put new life and\nnew spirit into my heart; my blood began to circulate immediately, and\nI was quite another body; I ate my victuals again, and grew better\npresently after it. She said a great deal more to the same purpose, and\nthen, having pressed me to be free with her, and promised in the\nsolemnest manner to be secret, she stopped a little, as if waiting to\nsee what impression it made on me, and what I would say.\nI was too sensible to the want I was in of such a woman, not to accept\nher offer; I told her my case was partly as she guessed, and partly\nnot, for I was really married, and had a husband, though he was in such\nfine circumstances and so remote at that time, as that he could not\nappear publicly.\nShe took me short, and told me that was none of her business; all the\nladies that came under her care were married women to her. \u201cEvery\nwoman,\u201d she says, \u201cthat is with child has a father for it,\u201d and whether\nthat father was a husband or no husband, was no business of hers; her\nbusiness was to assist me in my present circumstances, whether I had a\nhusband or no. \u201cFor, madam,\u201d says she, \u201cto have a husband that cannot\nappear, is to have no husband in the sense of the case; and, therefore,\nwhether you are a wife or a mistress is all one to me.\u201d\nI found presently, that whether I was a whore or a wife, I was to pass\nfor a whore here, so I let that go. I told her it was true, as she\nsaid, but that, however, if I must tell her my case, I must tell it her\nas it was; so I related it to her as short as I could, and I concluded\nit to her thus. \u201cI trouble you with all this, madam,\u201d said I, \u201cnot\nthat, as you said before, it is much to the purpose in your affair, but\nthis is to the purpose, namely, that I am not in any pain about being\nseen, or being public or concealed, for \u2019tis perfectly indifferent to\nme; but my difficulty is, that I have no acquaintance in this part of\nthe nation.\u201d\n\u201cI understand you, madam\u201d says she; \u201cyou have no security to bring to\nprevent the parish impertinences usual in such cases, and perhaps,\u201d\nsays she, \u201cdo not know very well how to dispose of the child when it\ncomes.\u201d \u201cThe last,\u201d says I, \u201cis not so much my concern as the first.\u201d\n\u201cWell, madam,\u201d answered the midwife, \u201cdare you put yourself into my\nhands? I live in such a place; though I do not inquire after you, you\nmay inquire after me. My name is B\u2014\u2014; I live in such a street\u201d\u2014naming\nthe street\u2014\u201cat the sign of the Cradle. My profession is a midwife, and\nI have many ladies that come to my house to lie in. I have given\nsecurity to the parish in general terms to secure them from any charge\nfrom whatsoever shall come into the world under my roof. I have but one\nquestion to ask in the whole affair, madam,\u201d says she, \u201cand if that be\nanswered you shall be entirely easy for all the rest.\u201d\nI presently understood what she meant, and told her, \u201cMadam, I believe\nI understand you. I thank God, though I want friends in this part of\nthe world, I do not want money, so far as may be necessary, though I do\nnot abound in that neither\u201d: this I added because I would not make her\nexpect great things. \u201cWell, madam,\u201d says she, \u201cthat is the thing\nindeed, without which nothing can be done in these cases; and yet,\u201d\nsays she, \u201cyou shall see that I will not impose upon you, or offer\nanything that is unkind to you, and if you desire it, you shall know\neverything beforehand, that you may suit yourself to the occasion, and\nbe neither costly or sparing as you see fit.\u201d\nI told her she seemed to be so perfectly sensible of my condition, that\nI had nothing to ask of her but this, that as I had told her that I had\nmoney sufficient, but not a great quantity, she would order it so that\nI might be at as little superfluous charge as possible.\nShe replied that she would bring in an account of the expenses of it in\ntwo or three shapes, and like a bill of fare, I should choose as I\npleased; and I desired her to do so.\nThe next day she brought it, and the copy of her three bills was as\nfollows:\u2014\n1.  For three months\u2019 lodging in her house, including my diet, at 10s.\n2.  For a nurse for the month, and use of childbed linen . . . . . . .\n3.  For a minister to christen the child, and to the godfathers and\n4.  For a supper at the christening if I had five friends at it . . . .\n    For her fees as a midwife, and the taking off the trouble of the\n    To her maid servant attending . . . . . . . . 0\u00a3, 10s., 0d.\nThis was the first bill; the second was the same terms:\u2014\n1.  For three months\u2019 lodging and diet, etc., at 20s. per week . . . .\n2.  For a nurse for the month, and the use of linen and lace . . . . .\n3.  For the minister to christen the child, etc., as above . . . . . .\nThis was the second-rate bill; the third, she said, was for a degree\nhigher, and when the father or friends appeared:\u2014\n1.  For three months\u2019 lodging and diet, having two rooms and a garret\n2.  For a nurse for the month, and the finest suit of childbed linen .\n3.  For the minister to christen the child, etc.  2\u00a3, 10s., 0d.\n4.  For a supper, the gentlemen to send in the wine . . . . . . . . . .\n    The maid, besides their own maid, only . . . . . . . . . . . . . .\nI looked upon all three bills, and smiled, and told her I did not see\nbut that she was very reasonable in her demands, all things considered,\nand for that I did not doubt but her accommodations were good.\nShe told me I should be judge of that when I saw them. I told her I was\nsorry to tell her that I feared I must be her lowest-rated customer.\n\u201cAnd perhaps, madam,\u201d said I, \u201cyou will make me the less welcome upon\nthat account.\u201d \u201cNo, not at all,\u201d said she; \u201cfor where I have one of the\nthird sort I have two of the second, and four to one of the first, and\nI get as much by them in proportion as by any; but if you doubt my care\nof you, I will allow any friend you have to overlook and see if you are\nwell waited on or no.\u201d\nThen she explained the particulars of her bill. \u201cIn the first place,\nmadam,\u201d said she, \u201cI would have you observe that here is three months\u2019\nkeeping; you are but ten shillings a week; I undertake to say you will\nnot complain of my table. I suppose,\u201d says she, \u201cyou do not live\ncheaper where you are now?\u201d \u201cNo, indeed,\u201d said I, \u201cnot so cheap, for I\ngive six shillings per week for my chamber, and find my own diet as\nwell as I can, which costs me a great deal more.\u201d\n\u201cThen, madam,\u201d says she, \u201cif the child should not live, or should be\ndead-born, as you know sometimes happens, then there is the minister\u2019s\narticle saved; and if you have no friends to come to you, you may save\nthe expense of a supper; so that take those articles out, madam,\u201d says\nshe, \u201cyour lying in will not cost you above \u00a35, 3s. in all more than\nyour ordinary charge of living.\u201d\nThis was the most reasonable thing that I ever heard of; so I smiled,\nand told her I would come and be her customer; but I told her also,\nthat as I had two months and more to do, I might perhaps be obliged to\nstay longer with her than three months, and desired to know if she\nwould not be obliged to remove me before it was proper. No, she said;\nher house was large, and besides, she never put anybody to remove, that\nhad lain in, till they were willing to go; and if she had more ladies\noffered, she was not so ill-beloved among her neighbours but she could\nprovide accommodations for twenty, if there was occasion.\nI found she was an eminent lady in her way; and, in short, I agreed to\nput myself into her hands, and promised her. She then talked of other\nthings, looked about into my accommodations where I was, found fault\nwith my wanting attendance and conveniences, and that I should not be\nused so at her house. I told her I was shy of speaking, for the woman\nof the house looked stranger, or at least I thought so, since I had\nbeen ill, because I was with child; and I was afraid she would put some\naffront or other upon me, supposing that I had been able to give but a\nslight account of myself.\n\u201cOh dear,\u201d said she, \u201cher ladyship is no stranger to these things; she\nhas tried to entertain ladies in your condition several times, but she\ncould not secure the parish; and besides, she is not such a nice lady\nas you take her to be; however, since you are a-going, you shall not\nmeddle with her, but I\u2019ll see you are a little better looked after\nwhile you are here than I think you are, and it shall not cost you the\nmore neither.\u201d\nI did not understand her at all; however, I thanked her, and so we\nparted. The next morning she sent me a chicken roasted and hot, and a\npint bottle of sherry, and ordered the maid to tell me that she was to\nwait on me every day as long as I stayed there.\nThis was surprisingly good and kind, and I accepted it very willingly.\nAt night she sent to me again, to know if I wanted anything, and how I\ndid, and to order the maid to come to her in the morning with my\ndinner. The maid had orders to make me some chocolate in the morning\nbefore she came away, and did so, and at noon she brought me the\nsweetbread of a breast of veal, whole, and a dish of soup for my\ndinner; and after this manner she nursed me up at a distance, so that I\nwas mightily well pleased, and quickly well, for indeed my dejections\nbefore were the principal part of my illness.\nI expected, as is usually the case among such people, that the servant\nshe sent me would have been some imprudent brazen wench of Drury Lane\nbreeding, and I was very uneasy at having her with me upon that\naccount; so I would not let her lie in that house the first night by\nany means, but had my eyes about me as narrowly as if she had been a\npublic thief.\nMy gentlewoman guessed presently what was the matter, and sent her back\nwith a short note, that I might depend upon the honesty of her maid;\nthat she would be answerable for her upon all accounts; and that she\ntook no servants into her house without very good security for their\nfidelity. I was then perfectly easy; and indeed the maid\u2019s behaviour\nspoke for itself, for a modester, quieter, soberer girl never came into\nanybody\u2019s family, and I found her so afterwards.\nAs soon as I was well enough to go abroad, I went with the maid to see\nthe house, and to see the apartment I was to have; and everything was\nso handsome and so clean and well, that, in short, I had nothing to\nsay, but was wonderfully pleased and satisfied with what I had met\nwith, which, considering the melancholy circumstances I was in, was far\nbeyond what I looked for.\nIt might be expected that I should give some account of the nature of\nthe wicked practices of this woman, in whose hands I was now fallen;\nbut it would be too much encouragement to the vice, to let the world\nsee what easy measures were here taken to rid the women\u2019s unwelcome\nburthen of a child clandestinely gotten. This grave matron had several\nsorts of practice, and this was one particular, that if a child was\nborn, though not in her house (for she had occasion to be called to\nmany private labours), she had people at hand, who for a piece of money\nwould take the child off their hands, and off from the hands of the\nparish too; and those children, as she said, were honestly provided for\nand taken care of. What should become of them all, considering so many,\nas by her account she was concerned with, I cannot conceive.\nI had many times discourses upon that subject with her; but she was\nfull of this argument, that she save the life of many an innocent lamb,\nas she called them, which would otherwise perhaps have been murdered;\nand of many women who, made desperate by the misfortune, would\notherwise be tempted to destroy their children, and bring themselves to\nthe gallows. I granted her that this was true, and a very commendable\nthing, provided the poor children fell into good hands afterwards, and\nwere not abused, starved, and neglected by the nurses that bred them\nup. She answered, that she always took care of that, and had no nurses\nin her business but what were very good, honest people, and such as\nmight be depended upon.\nI could say nothing to the contrary, and so was obliged to say, \u201cMadam,\nI do not question you do your part honestly, but what those people do\nafterwards is the main question\u201d; and she stopped my mouth again with\nsaying that she took the utmost care about it.\nThe only thing I found in all her conversation on these subjects that\ngave me any distaste, was, that one time in discouraging about my being\nfar gone with child, and the time I expected to come, she said\nsomething that looked as if she could help me off with my burthen\nsooner, if I was willing; or, in English, that she could give me\nsomething to make me miscarry, if I had a desire to put an end to my\ntroubles that way; but I soon let her see that I abhorred the thoughts\nof it; and, to do her justice, she put it off so cleverly, that I could\nnot say she really intended it, or whether she only mentioned the\npractice as a horrible thing; for she couched her words so well, and\ntook my meaning so quickly, that she gave her negative before I could\nexplain myself.\nTo bring this part into as narrow a compass as possible, I quitted my\nlodging at St. Jones\u2019s and went to my new governess, for so they called\nher in the house, and there I was indeed treated with so much courtesy,\nso carefully looked to, so handsomely provided, and everything so well,\nthat I was surprised at it, and could not at first see what advantage\nmy governess made of it; but I found afterwards that she professed to\nmake no profit of lodgers\u2019 diet, nor indeed could she get much by it,\nbut that her profit lay in the other articles of her management, and\nshe made enough that way, I assure you; for \u2019tis scarce credible what\npractice she had, as well abroad as at home, and yet all upon the\nprivate account, or, in plain English, the whoring account.\nWhile I was in her house, which was near four months, she had no less\nthan twelve ladies of pleasure brought to bed within the doors, and I\nthink she had two-and-thirty, or thereabouts, under her conduct without\ndoors, whereof one, as nice as she was with me, was lodged with my old\nlandlady at St. Jones\u2019s.\nThis was a strange testimony of the growing vice of the age, and such a\none, that as bad as I had been myself, it shocked my very senses. I\nbegan to nauseate the place I was in and, about all, the wicked\npractice; and yet I must say that I never saw, or do I believe there\nwas to be seen, the least indecency in the house the whole time I was\nthere.\nNot a man was ever seen to come upstairs, except to visit the lying-in\nladies within their month, nor then without the old lady with them, who\nmade it a piece of honour of her management that no man should touch a\nwoman, no, not his own wife, within the month; nor would she permit any\nman to lie in the house upon any pretence whatever, no, not though she\nwas sure it was with his own wife; and her general saying for it was,\nthat she cared not how many children were born in her house, but she\nwould have none got there if she could help it.\nIt might perhaps be carried further than was needful, but it was an\nerror of the right hand if it was an error, for by this she kept up the\nreputation, such as it was, of her business, and obtained this\ncharacter, that though she did take care of the women when they were\ndebauched, yet she was not instrumental to their being debauched at\nall; and yet it was a wicked trade she drove too.\nWhile I was there, and before I was brought to bed, I received a letter\nfrom my trustee at the bank, full of kind, obliging things, and\nearnestly pressing me to return to London. It was near a fortnight old\nwhen it came to me, because it had been first sent into Lancashire, and\nthen returned to me. He concludes with telling me that he had obtained\na decree, I think he called it, against his wife, and that he would be\nready to make good his engagement to me, if I would accept of him,\nadding a great many protestations of kindness and affection, such as he\nwould have been far from offering if he had known the circumstances I\nhad been in, and which as it was I had been very far from deserving.\nI returned an answer to his letter, and dated it at Liverpool, but sent\nit by messenger, alleging that it came in cover to a friend in town. I\ngave him joy of his deliverance, but raised some scruples at the\nlawfulness of his marrying again, and told him I supposed he would\nconsider very seriously upon that point before he resolved on it, the\nconsequence being too great for a man of his judgment to venture rashly\nupon a thing of that nature; so concluded, wishing him very well in\nwhatever he resolved, without letting him into anything of my own mind,\nor giving any answer to his proposal of my coming to London to him, but\nmentioned at a distance my intention to return the latter end of the\nyear, this being dated in April.\nI was brought to bed about the middle of May and had another brave boy,\nand myself in as good condition as usual on such occasions. My\ngoverness did her part as a midwife with the greatest art and dexterity\nimaginable, and far beyond all that ever I had had any experience of\nbefore.\nHer care of me in my travail, and after in my lying in, was such, that\nif she had been my own mother it could not have been better. Let none\nbe encouraged in their loose practices from this dexterous lady\u2019s\nmanagement, for she is gone to her place, and I dare say has left\nnothing behind her that can or will come up on it.\nI think I had been brought to bed about twenty-two days when I received\nanother letter from my friend at the bank, with the surprising news\nthat he had obtained a final sentence of divorce against his wife, and\nhad served her with it on such a day, and that he had such an answer to\ngive to all my scruples about his marrying again, as I could not\nexpect, and as he had no desire of; for that his wife, who had been\nunder some remorse before for her usage of him, as soon as she had the\naccount that he had gained his point, had very unhappily destroyed\nherself that same evening.\nHe expressed himself very handsomely as to his being concerned at her\ndisaster, but cleared himself of having any hand in it, and that he had\nonly done himself justice in a case in which he was notoriously injured\nand abused. However, he said that he was extremely afflicted at it, and\nhad no view of any satisfaction left in his world, but only in the hope\nthat I would come and relieve him by my company; and then he pressed me\nviolently indeed to give him some hopes that I would at least come up\nto town and let him see me, when he would further enter into discourse\nabout it.\nI was exceedingly surprised at the news, and began now seriously to\nreflect on my present circumstances, and the inexpressible misfortune\nit was to me to have a child upon my hands, and what to do in it I knew\nnot. At last I opened my case at a distance to my governess. I appeared\nmelancholy and uneasy for several days, and she lay at me continually\nto know what trouble me. I could not for my life tell her that I had an\noffer of marriage, after I had so often told her that I had a husband,\nso that I really knew not what to say to her. I owned I had something\nwhich very much troubled me, but at the same time told her I could not\nspeak of it to any one alive.\nShe continued importuning me several days, but it was impossible, I\ntold her, for me to commit the secret to anybody. This, instead of\nbeing an answer to her, increased her importunities; she urged her\nhaving been trusted with the greatest secrets of this nature, that it\nwas her business to conceal everything, and that to discover things of\nthat nature would be her ruin. She asked me if ever I had found her\ntattling to me of other people\u2019s affairs, and how could I suspect her?\nShe told me, to unfold myself to her was telling it to nobody; that she\nwas silent as death; that it must be a very strange case indeed that\nshe could not help me out of; but to conceal it was to deprive myself\nof all possible help, or means of help, and to deprive her of the\nopportunity of serving me. In short, she had such a bewitching\neloquence, and so great a power of persuasion that there was no\nconcealing anything from her.\nSo I resolved to unbosom myself to her. I told her the history of my\nLancashire marriage, and how both of us had been disappointed; how we\ncame together, and how we parted; how he absolutely discharged me, as\nfar as lay in him, free liberty to marry again, protesting that if he\nknew it he would never claim me, or disturb or expose me; that I\nthought I was free, but was dreadfully afraid to venture, for fear of\nthe consequences that might follow in case of a discovery.\nThen I told her what a good offer I had; showed her my friend\u2019s two\nlast letters, inviting me to come to London, and let her see with what\naffection and earnestness they were written, but blotted out the name,\nand also the story about the disaster of his wife, only that she was\ndead.\nShe fell a-laughing at my scruples about marrying, and told me the\nother was no marriage, but a cheat on both sides; and that, as we were\nparted by mutual consent, the nature of the contract was destroyed, and\nthe obligation was mutually discharged. She had arguments for this at\nthe tip of her tongue; and, in short, reasoned me out of my reason; not\nbut that it was too by the help of my own inclination.\nBut then came the great and main difficulty, and that was the child;\nthis, she told me in so many words, must be removed, and that so as\nthat it should never be possible for any one to discover it. I knew\nthere was no marrying without entirely concealing that I had had a\nchild, for he would soon have discovered by the age of it that it was\nborn, nay, and gotten too, since my parley with him, and that would\nhave destroyed all the affair.\nBut it touched my heart so forcibly to think of parting entirely with\nthe child, and, for aught I knew, of having it murdered, or starved by\nneglect and ill-usage (which was much the same), that I could not think\nof it without horror. I wish all those women who consent to the\ndisposing their children out of the way, as it is called, for decency\nsake, would consider that \u2019tis only a contrived method for murder; that\nis to say, a-killing their children with safety.\nIt is manifest to all that understand anything of children, that we are\nborn into the world helpless, and incapable either to supply our own\nwants or so much as make them known; and that without help we must\nperish; and this help requires not only an assisting hand, whether of\nthe mother or somebody else, but there are two things necessary in that\nassisting hand, that is, care and skill; without both which, half the\nchildren that are born would die, nay, though they were not to be\ndenied food; and one half more of those that remained would be cripples\nor fools, lose their limbs, and perhaps their sense. I question not but\nthat these are partly the reasons why affection was placed by nature in\nthe hearts of mothers to their children; without which they would never\nbe able to give themselves up, as \u2019tis necessary they should, to the\ncare and waking pains needful to the support of their children.\nSince this care is needful to the life of children, to neglect them is\nto murder them; again, to give them up to be managed by those people\nwho have none of that needful affection placed by nature in them, is to\nneglect them in the highest degree; nay, in some it goes farther, and\nis a neglect in order to their being lost; so that \u2019tis even an\nintentional murder, whether the child lives or dies.\nAll those things represented themselves to my view, and that is the\nblackest and most frightful form: and as I was very free with my\ngoverness, whom I had now learned to call mother, I represented to her\nall the dark thoughts which I had upon me about it, and told her what\ndistress I was in. She seemed graver by much at this part than at the\nother; but as she was hardened in these things beyond all possibility\nof being touched with the religious part, and the scruples about the\nmurder, so she was equally impenetrable in that part which related to\naffection. She asked me if she had not been careful and tender to me in\nmy lying in, as if I had been her own child. I told her I owned she\nhad. \u201cWell, my dear,\u201d says she, \u201cand when you are gone, what are you to\nme? And what would it be to me if you were to be hanged? Do you think\nthere are not women who, as it is their trade and they get their bread\nby it, value themselves upon their being as careful of children as\ntheir own mothers can be, and understand it rather better? Yes, yes,\nchild,\u201d says she, \u201cfear it not; how were we nursed ourselves? Are you\nsure you was nursed up by your own mother? and yet you look fat and\nfair, child,\u201d says the old beldam; and with that she stroked me over\nthe face. \u201cNever be concerned, child,\u201d says she, going on in her\ndrolling way; \u201cI have no murderers about me; I employ the best and the\nhonestest nurses that can be had, and have as few children miscarry\nunder their hands as there would if they were all nursed by mothers; we\nwant neither care nor skill.\u201d\nShe touched me to the quick when she asked if I was sure that I was\nnursed by my own mother; on the contrary I was sure I was not; and I\ntrembled, and looked pale at the very expression. \u201cSure,\u201d said I to\nmyself, \u201cthis creature cannot be a witch, or have any conversation with\na spirit, that can inform her what was done with me before I was able\nto know it myself\u201d; and I looked at her as if I had been frightened;\nbut reflecting that it could not be possible for her to know anything\nabout me, that disorder went off, and I began to be easy, but it was\nnot presently.\nShe perceived the disorder I was in, but did not know the meaning of\nit; so she ran on in her wild talk upon the weakness of my supposing\nthat children were murdered because they were not all nursed by the\nmother, and to persuade me that the children she disposed of were as\nwell used as if the mothers had the nursing of them themselves.\n\u201cIt may be true, mother,\u201d says I, \u201cfor aught I know, but my doubts are\nvery strongly grounded indeed.\u201d \u201cCome, then,\u201d says she, \u201clet\u2019s hear\nsome of them.\u201d \u201cWhy, first,\u201d says I, \u201cyou give a piece of money to\nthese people to take the child off the parent\u2019s hands, and to take care\nof it as long as it lives. Now we know, mother,\u201d said I, \u201cthat those\nare poor people, and their gain consists in being quit of the charge as\nsoon as they can; how can I doubt but that, as it is best for them to\nhave the child die, they are not over solicitous about life?\u201d\n\u201cThis is all vapours and fancy,\u201d says the old woman; \u201cI tell you their\ncredit depends upon the child\u2019s life, and they are as careful as any\nmother of you all.\u201d\n\u201cO mother,\u201d says I, \u201cif I was but sure my little baby would be\ncarefully looked to, and have justice done it, I should be happy\nindeed; but it is impossible I can be satisfied in that point unless I\nsaw it, and to see it would be ruin and destruction to me, as now my\ncase stands; so what to do I know not.\u201d\n\u201cA fine story!\u201d says the governess. \u201cYou would see the child, and you\nwould not see the child; you would be concealed and discovered both\ntogether. These are things impossible, my dear; so you must e\u2019en do as\nother conscientious mothers have done before you, and be contented with\nthings as they must be, though they are not as you wish them to be.\u201d\nI understood what she meant by conscientious mothers; she would have\nsaid conscientious whores, but she was not willing to disoblige me, for\nreally in this case I was not a whore, because legally married, the\nforce of former marriage excepted.\nHowever, let me be what I would, I was not come up to that pitch of\nhardness common to the profession; I mean, to be unnatural, and\nregardless of the safety of my child; and I preserved this honest\naffection so long, that I was upon the point of giving up my friend at\nthe bank, who lay so hard at me to come to him and marry him, that, in\nshort, there was hardly any room to deny him.\nAt last my old governess came to me, with her usual assurance. \u201cCome,\nmy dear,\u201d says she, \u201cI have found out a way how you shall be at a\ncertainty that your child shall be used well, and yet the people that\ntake care of it shall never know you, or who the mother of the child\nis.\u201d\n\u201cOh mother,\u201d says I, \u201cif you can do so, you will engage me to you for\never.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says she, \u201care you willing to be a some small annual\nexpense, more than what we usually give to the people we contract\nwith?\u201d \u201cAy,\u201d says I, \u201cwith all my heart, provided I may be concealed.\u201d\n\u201cAs to that,\u201d says the governess, \u201cyou shall be secure, for the nurse\nshall never so much as dare to inquire about you, and you shall once or\ntwice a year go with me and see your child, and see how \u2019tis used, and\nbe satisfied that it is in good hands, nobody knowing who you are.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201cdo you think, mother, that when I come to see my child,\nI shall be able to conceal my being the mother of it? Do you think that\npossible?\u201d\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d says my governess, \u201cif you discover it, the nurse shall\nbe never the wiser; for she shall be forbid to ask any questions about\nyou, or to take any notice. If she offers it, she shall lose the money\nwhich you are suppose to give her, and the child shall be taken from\nher too.\u201d\nI was very well pleased with this. So the next week a countrywoman was\nbrought from Hertford, or thereabouts, who was to take the child off\nour hands entirely for \u00a310 in money. But if I would allow \u00a35 a year\nmore of her, she would be obliged to bring the child to my governess\u2019s\nhouse as often as we desired, or we should come down and look at it,\nand see how well she used it.\nThe woman was very wholesome-looking, a likely woman, a cottager\u2019s\nwife, but she had very good clothes and linen, and everything well\nabout her; and with a heavy heart and many a tear, I let her have my\nchild. I had been down at Hertford, and looked at her and at her\ndwelling, which I liked well enough; and I promised her great things if\nshe would be kind to the child, so she knew at first word that I was\nthe child\u2019s mother. But she seemed to be so much out of the way, and to\nhave no room to inquire after me, that I thought I was safe enough. So,\nin short, I consented to let her have the child, and I gave her \u00a310;\nthat is to say, I gave it to my governess, who gave it the poor woman\nbefore my face, she agreeing never to return the child back to me, or\nto claim anything more for its keeping or bringing up; only that I\npromised, if she took a great deal of care of it, I would give her\nsomething more as often as I came to see it; so that I was not bound to\npay the \u00a35, only that I promised my governess I would do it. And thus\nmy great care was over, after a manner, which though it did not at all\nsatisfy my mind, yet was the most convenient for me, as my affairs then\nstood, of any that could be thought of at that time.\nI then began to write to my friend at the bank in a more kindly style,\nand particularly about the beginning of July I sent him a letter, that\nI proposed to be in town some time in August. He returned me an answer\nin the most passionate terms imaginable, and desired me to let him have\ntimely notice, and he would come and meet me, two day\u2019s journey. This\npuzzled me scurvily, and I did not know what answer to make of it. Once\nI resolved to take the stage-coach to West Chester, on purpose only to\nhave the satisfaction of coming back, that he might see me really come\nin the same coach; for I had a jealous thought, though I had no ground\nfor it at all, lest he should think I was not really in the country.\nAnd it was no ill-grounded thought as you shall hear presently.\nI endeavoured to reason myself out of it, but it was in vain; the\nimpression lay so strong on my mind, that it was not to be resisted. At\nlast it came as an addition to my new design of going into the country,\nthat it would be an excellent blind to my old governess, and would\ncover entirely all my other affairs, for she did not know in the least\nwhether my new lover lived in London or in Lancashire; and when I told\nher my resolution, she was fully persuaded it was in Lancashire.\nHaving taken my measure for this journey I let her know it, and sent\nthe maid that tended me, from the beginning, to take a place for me in\nthe coach. She would have had me let the maid have waited on me down to\nthe last stage, and come up again in the waggon, but I convinced her it\nwould not be convenient. When I went away, she told me she would enter\ninto no measures for correspondence, for she saw evidently that my\naffection to my child would cause me to write to her, and to visit her\ntoo when I came to town again. I assured her it would, and so took my\nleave, well satisfied to have been freed from such a house, however\ngood my accommodations there had been, as I have related above.\nI took the place in the coach not to its full extent, but to a place\ncalled Stone, in Cheshire, I think it is, where I not only had no\nmanner of business, but not so much as the least acquaintance with any\nperson in the town or near it. But I knew that with money in the pocket\none is at home anywhere; so I lodged there two or three days, till,\nwatching my opportunity, I found room in another stage-coach, and took\npassage back again for London, sending a letter to my gentleman that I\nshould be such a certain day at Stony-Stratford, where the coachman\ntold me he was to lodge.\nIt happened to be a chance coach that I had taken up, which, having\nbeen hired on purpose to carry some gentlemen to West Chester who were\ngoing for Ireland, was now returning, and did not tie itself to exact\ntimes or places as the stages did; so that, having been obliged to lie\nstill on Sunday, he had time to get himself ready to come out, which\notherwise he could not have done.\nHowever, his warning was so short, that he could not reach to\nStony-Stratford time enough to be with me at night, but he met me at a\nplace called Brickhill the next morning, as we were just coming in to\ntow.\nI confess I was very glad to see him, for I had thought myself a little\ndisappointed over-night, seeing I had gone so far to contrive my coming\non purpose. He pleased me doubly too by the figure he came in, for he\nbrought a very handsome (gentleman\u2019s) coach and four horses, with a\nservant to attend him.\nHe took me out of the stage-coach immediately, which stopped at an inn\nin Brickhill; and putting into the same inn, he set up his own coach,\nand bespoke his dinner. I asked him what he meant by that, for I was\nfor going forward with the journey. He said, No, I had need of a little\nrest upon the road, and that was a very good sort of a house, though it\nwas but a little town; so we would go no farther that night, whatever\ncame of it.\nI did not press him much, for since he had come so to meet me, and put\nhimself to so much expense, it was but reasonable I should oblige him a\nlittle too; so I was easy as to that point.\nAfter dinner we walked to see the town, to see the church, and to view\nthe fields, and the country, as is usual for strangers to do; and our\nlandlord was our guide in going to see the church. I observed my\ngentleman inquired pretty much about the parson, and I took the hint\nimmediately that he certainly would propose to be married; and though\nit was a sudden thought, it followed presently, that, in short, I would\nnot refuse him; for, to be plain, with my circumstances I was in no\ncondition now to say No; I had no reason now to run any more such\nhazards.\nBut while these thoughts ran round in my head, which was the work but\nof a few moments, I observed my landlord took him aside and whispered\nto him, though not very softly neither, for so much I overheard: \u201cSir,\nif you shall have occasion\u2014\u2014\u201d the rest I could not hear, but it seems\nit was to this purpose: \u201cSir, if you shall have occasion for a\nminister, I have a friend a little way off that will serve you, and be\nas private as you please.\u201d My gentleman answered loud enough for me to\nhear, \u201cVery well, I believe I shall.\u201d\nI was no sooner come back to the inn but he fell upon me with\nirresistible words, that since he had had the good fortune to meet me,\nand everything concurred, it would be hastening his felicity if I would\nput an end to the matter just there. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d says I,\ncolouring a little. \u201cWhat, in an inn, and upon the road! Bless us all,\u201d\nsaid I, as if I had been surprised, \u201chow can you talk so?\u201d \u201cOh, I can\ntalk so very well,\u201d says he, \u201cI came a-purpose to talk so, and I\u2019ll\nshow you that I did\u201d; and with that he pulls out a great bundle of\npapers. \u201cYou fright me,\u201d said I; \u201cwhat are all these?\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t be\nfrighted, my dear,\u201d said he, and kissed me. This was the first time\nthat he had been so free to call me \u201cmy dear\u201d; then he repeated it,\n\u201cDon\u2019t be frighted; you shall see what it is all\u201d; then he laid them\nall abroad. There was first the deed or sentence of divorce from his\nwife, and the full evidence of her playing the whore; then there were\nthe certificates of the minister and churchwardens of the parish where\nshe lived, proving that she was buried, and intimating the manner of\nher death; the copy of the coroner\u2019s warrant for a jury to sit upon\nher, and the verdict of the jury, who brought it in Non compos mentis.\nAll this was indeed to the purpose, and to give me satisfaction,\nthough, by the way, I was not so scrupulous, had he known all, but that\nI might have taken him without it. However, I looked them all over as\nwell as I could, and told him that this was all very clear indeed, but\nthat he need not have given himself the trouble to have brought them\nout with him, for it was time enough. Well, he said, it might be time\nenough for me, but no time but the present time was time enough for\nhim.\nThere were other papers rolled up, and I asked him what they were.\n\u201cWhy, ay,\u201d says he, \u201cthat\u2019s the question I wanted to have you ask me\u201d;\nso he unrolls them and takes out a little shagreen case, and gives me\nout of it a very fine diamond ring. I could not refuse it, if I had a\nmind to do so, for he put it upon my finger; so I made him a curtsy and\naccepted it. Then he takes out another ring: \u201cAnd this,\u201d says he, \u201cis\nfor another occasion,\u201d so he puts that in his pocket. \u201cWell, but let me\nsee it, though,\u201d says I, and smiled; \u201cI guess what it is; I think you\nare mad.\u201d \u201cI should have been mad if I had done less,\u201d says he, and\nstill he did not show me, and I had a great mind to see it; so I says,\n\u201cWell, but let me see it.\u201d \u201cHold,\u201d says he, \u201cfirst look here\u201d; then he\ntook up the roll again and read it, and behold! it was a licence for us\nto be married. \u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201care you distracted? Why, you were fully\nsatisfied that I would comply and yield at first word, or resolved to\ntake no denial.\u201d \u201cThe last is certainly the case,\u201d said he. \u201cBut you\nmay be mistaken,\u201d said I. \u201cNo, no,\u201d says he, \u201chow can you think so? I\nmust not be denied, I can\u2019t be denied\u201d; and with that he fell to\nkissing me so violently, I could not get rid of him.\nThere was a bed in the room, and we were walking to and again, eager in\nthe discourse; at last he takes me by surprise in his arms, and threw\nme on the bed and himself with me, and holding me fast in his arms, but\nwithout the least offer of any indecency, courted me to consent with\nsuch repeated entreaties and arguments, protesting his affection, and\nvowing he would not let me go till I had promised him, that at last I\nsaid, \u201cWhy, you resolve not to be denied, indeed, I can\u2019t be denied.\u201d\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d said I, and giving him a slight kiss, \u201cthen you shan\u2019t be\ndenied,\u201d said I; \u201clet me get up.\u201d\nHe was so transported with my consent, and the kind manner of it, that\nI began to think once he took it for a marriage, and would not stay for\nthe form; but I wronged him, for he gave over kissing me, and then\ngiving me two or three kisses again, thanked me for my kind yielding to\nhim; and was so overcome with the satisfaction and joy of it, that I\nsaw tears stand in his eyes.\nI turned from him, for it filled my eyes with tears too, and I asked\nhim leave to retire a little to my chamber. If ever I had a grain of\ntrue repentance for a vicious and abominable life for twenty-four years\npast, it was then. Oh, what a felicity is it to mankind, said I to\nmyself, that they cannot see into the hearts of one another! How happy\nhad it been for me if I had been wife to a man of so much honesty, and\nso much affection from the beginning!\nThen it occurred to me, \u201cWhat an abominable creature am I! and how is\nthis innocent gentleman going to be abused by me! How little does he\nthink, that having divorced a whore, he is throwing himself into the\narms of another! that he is going to marry one that has lain with two\nbrothers, and has had three children by her own brother! one that was\nborn in Newgate, whose mother was a whore, and is now a transported\nthief! one that has lain with thirteen men, and has had a child since\nhe saw me! Poor gentleman!\u201d said I, \u201cwhat is he going to do?\u201d After\nthis reproaching myself was over, it following thus: \u201cWell, if I must\nbe his wife, if it please God to give me grace, I\u2019ll be a true wife to\nhim, and love him suitably to the strange excess of his passion for me;\nI will make him amends if possible, by what he shall see, for the\ncheats and abuses I put upon him, which he does not see.\u201d\nHe was impatient for my coming out of my chamber, but finding me long,\nhe went downstairs and talked with my landlord about the parson.\nMy landlord, an officious though well-meaning fellow, had sent away for\nthe neighbouring clergyman; and when my gentleman began to speak of it\nto him, and talk of sending for him, \u201cSir,\u201d says he to him, \u201cmy friend\nis in the house\u201d; so without any more words he brought them together.\nWhen he came to the minister, he asked him if he would venture to marry\na couple of strangers that were both willing. The parson said that Mr.\n\u2014\u2014 had said something to him of it; that he hoped it was no clandestine\nbusiness; that he seemed to be a grave gentleman, and he supposed madam\nwas not a girl, so that the consent of friends should be wanted. \u201cTo\nput you out of doubt of that,\u201d says my gentleman, \u201cread this paper\u201d;\nand out he pulls the license. \u201cI am satisfied,\u201d says the minister;\n\u201cwhere is the lady?\u201d \u201cYou shall see her presently,\u201d says my gentleman.\nWhen he had said thus he comes upstairs, and I was by that time come\nout of my room; so he tells me the minister was below, and that he had\ntalked with him, and that upon showing him the license, he was free to\nmarry us with all his heart, \u201cbut he asks to see you\u201d; so he asked if I\nwould let him come up.\n\u201c\u2019Tis time enough,\u201d said I, \u201cin the morning, is it not?\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cmy dear, he seemed to scruple whether it was not some young girl\nstolen from her parents, and I assured him we were both of age to\ncommand our own consent; and that made him ask to see you.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cdo as you please\u201d; so up they brings the parson, and a merry,\ngood sort of gentleman he was. He had been told, it seems, that we had\nmet there by accident, that I came in the Chester coach, and my\ngentleman in his own coach to meet me; that we were to have met last\nnight at Stony-Stratford, but that he could not reach so far. \u201cWell,\nsir,\u201d says the parson, \u201cevery ill turn has some good in it. The\ndisappointment, sir,\u201d says he to my gentleman, \u201cwas yours, and the good\nturn is mine, for if you had met at Stony-Stratford I had not had the\nhonour to marry you. Landlord, have you a Common Prayer Book?\u201d\nI started as if I had been frightened. \u201cLord, sir,\u201d says I, \u201cwhat do\nyou mean? What, to marry in an inn, and at night too?\u201d \u201cMadam,\u201d says\nthe minister, \u201cif you will have it be in the church, you shall; but I\nassure you your marriage will be as firm here as in the church; we are\nnot tied by the canons to marry nowhere but in the church; and if you\nwill have it in the church, it will be a public as a county fair; and\nas for the time of day, it does not at all weigh in this case; our\nprinces are married in their chambers, and at eight or ten o\u2019clock at\nnight.\u201d\nI was a great while before I could be persuaded, and pretended not to\nbe willing at all to be married but in the church. But it was all\ngrimace; so I seemed at last to be prevailed on, and my landlord and\nhis wife and daughter were called up. My landlord was father and clerk\nand all together, and we were married, and very merry we were; though I\nconfess the self-reproaches which I had upon me before lay close to me,\nand extorted every now and then a deep sigh from me, which my\nbridegroom took notice of, and endeavoured to encourage me, thinking,\npoor man, that I had some little hesitations at the step I had taken so\nhastily.\nWe enjoyed ourselves that evening completely, and yet all was kept so\nprivate in the inn that not a servant in the house knew of it, for my\nlandlady and her daughter waited on me, and would not let any of the\nmaids come upstairs, except while we were at supper. My landlady\u2019s\ndaughter I called my bridesmaid; and sending for a shopkeeper the next\nmorning, I gave the young woman a good suit of knots, as good as the\ntown would afford, and finding it was a lace-making town, I gave her\nmother a piece of bone-lace for a head.\nOne reason that my landlord was so close was, that he was unwilling the\nminister of the parish should hear of it; but for all that somebody\nheard of it, so at that we had the bells set a-ringing the next morning\nearly, and the music, such as the town would afford, under our window;\nbut my landlord brazened it out, that we were married before we came\nthither, only that, being his former guests, we would have our\nwedding-supper at his house.\nWe could not find in our hearts to stir the next day; for, in short,\nhaving been disturbed by the bells in the morning, and having perhaps\nnot slept overmuch before, we were so sleepy afterwards that we lay in\nbed till almost twelve o\u2019clock.\nI begged my landlady that we might not have any more music in the town,\nnor ringing of bells, and she managed it so well that we were very\nquiet; but an odd passage interrupted all my mirth for a good while.\nThe great room of the house looked into the street, and my new spouse\nbeing belowstairs, I had walked to the end of the room; and it being a\npleasant, warm day, I had opened the window, and was standing at it for\nsome air, when I saw three gentlemen come by on horseback and go into\nan inn just against us.\nIt was not to be concealed, nor was it so doubtful as to leave me any\nroom to question it, but the second of the three was my Lancashire\nhusband. I was frightened to death; I never was in such a consternation\nin my life; I though I should have sunk into the ground; my blood ran\nchill in my veins, and I trembled as if I had been in a cold fit of\nague. I say, there was no room to question the truth of it; I knew his\nclothes, I knew his horse, and I knew his face.\nThe first sensible reflect I made was, that my husband was not by to\nsee my disorder, and that I was very glad of it. The gentlemen had not\nbeen long in the house but they came to the window of their room, as is\nusual; but my window was shut, you may be sure. However, I could not\nkeep from peeping at them, and there I saw him again, heard him call\nout to one of the servants of the house for something he wanted, and\nreceived all the terrifying confirmations of its being the same person\nthat were possible to be had.\nMy next concern was to know, if possible, what was his business there;\nbut that was impossible. Sometimes my imagination formed an idea of one\nfrightful thing, sometimes of another; sometimes I thought he had\ndiscovered me, and was come to upbraid me with ingratitude and breach\nof honour; and every moment I fancied he was coming up the stairs to\ninsult me; and innumerable fancies came into my head of what was never\nin his head, nor ever could be, unless the devil had revealed it to\nhim.\nI remained in this fright nearly two hours, and scarce ever kept my eye\nfrom the window or door of the inn where they were. At last, hearing a\ngreat clatter in the passage of their inn, I ran to the window, and, to\nmy great satisfaction, saw them all three go out again and travel on\nwestward. Had they gone towards London, I should have been still in a\nfright, lest I should meet him on the road again, and that he should\nknow me; but he went the contrary way, and so I was eased of that\ndisorder.\nWe resolved to be going the next day, but about six o\u2019clock at night we\nwere alarmed with a great uproar in the street, and people riding as if\nthey had been out of their wits; and what was it but a hue-and-cry\nafter three highwaymen that had robbed two coaches and some other\ntravellers near Dunstable Hill, and notice had, it seems, been given\nthat they had been seen at Brickhill at such a house, meaning the house\nwhere those gentlemen had been.\nThe house was immediately beset and searched, but there were witnesses\nenough that the gentlemen had been gone over three hours. The crowd\nhaving gathered about, we had the news presently; and I was heartily\nconcerned now another way. I presently told the people of the house,\nthat I durst to say those were not the persons, for that I knew one of\nthe gentlemen to be a very honest person, and of a good estate in\nLancashire.\nThe constable who came with the hue-and-cry was immediately informed of\nthis, and came over to me to be satisfied from my own mouth, and I\nassured him that I saw the three gentlemen as I was at the window; that\nI saw them afterwards at the windows of the room they dined in; that I\nsaw them afterwards take horse, and I could assure him I knew one of\nthem to be such a man, that he was a gentleman of a very good estate,\nand an undoubted character in Lancashire, from whence I was just now\nupon my journey.\nThe assurance with which I delivered this gave the mob gentry a check,\nand gave the constable such satisfaction, that he immediately sounded a\nretreat, told his people these were not the men, but that he had an\naccount they were very honest gentlemen; and so they went all back\nagain. What the truth of the matter was I knew not, but certain it was\nthat the coaches were robbed at Dunstable Hill, and \u00a3560 in money\ntaken; besides, some of the lace merchants that always travel that way\nhad been visited too. As to the three gentlemen, that remains to be\nexplained hereafter.\nWell, this alarm stopped us another day, though my spouse was for\ntravelling, and told me that it was always safest travelling after a\nrobbery, for that the thieves were sure to be gone far enough off when\nthey had alarmed the country; but I was afraid and uneasy, and indeed\nprincipally lest my old acquaintance should be upon the road still, and\nshould chance to see me.\nI never lived four pleasanter days together in my life. I was a mere\nbride all this while, and my new spouse strove to make me entirely easy\nin everything. Oh could this state of life have continued, how had all\nmy past troubles been forgot, and my future sorrows avoided! But I had\na past life of a most wretched kind to account for, some of it in this\nworld as well as in another.\nWe came away the fifth day; and my landlord, because he saw me uneasy,\nmounted himself, his son, and three honest country fellows with good\nfirearms, and, without telling us of it, followed the coach, and would\nsee us safe into Dunstable. We could do no less than treat them very\nhandsomely at Dunstable, which cost my spouse about ten or twelve\nshillings, and something he gave the men for their time too, but my\nlandlord would take nothing for himself.\nThis was the most happy contrivance for me that could have fallen out;\nfor had I come to London unmarried, I must either have come to him for\nthe first night\u2019s entertainment, or have discovered to him that I had\nnot one acquaintance in the whole city of London that could receive a\npoor bride for the first night\u2019s lodging with her spouse. But now,\nbeing an old married woman, I made no scruple of going directly home\nwith him, and there I took possession at once of a house well\nfurnished, and a husband in very good circumstances, so that I had a\nprospect of a very happy life, if I knew how to manage it; and I had\nleisure to consider of the real value of the life I was likely to live.\nHow different it was to be from the loose ungoverned part I had acted\nbefore, and how much happier a life of virtue and sobriety is, than\nthat which we call a life of pleasure.\nOh had this particular scene of life lasted, or had I learned from that\ntime I enjoyed it, to have tasted the true sweetness of it, and had I\nnot fallen into that poverty which is the sure bane of virtue, how\nhappy had I been, not only here, but perhaps for ever! for while I\nlived thus, I was really a penitent for all my life past. I looked back\non it with abhorrence, and might truly be said to hate myself for it. I\noften reflected how my lover at the Bath, struck at the hand of God,\nrepented and abandoned me, and refused to see me any more, though he\nloved me to an extreme; but I, prompted by that worst of devils,\npoverty, returned to the vile practice, and made the advantage of what\nthey call a handsome face to be the relief to my necessities, and\nbeauty be a pimp to vice.\nNow I seemed landed in a safe harbour, after the stormy voyage of life\npast was at an end, and I began to be thankful for my deliverance. I\nsat many an hour by myself, and wept over the remembrance of past\nfollies, and the dreadful extravagances of a wicked life, and sometimes\nI flattered myself that I had sincerely repented.\nBut there are temptations which it is not in the power of human nature\nto resist, and few know what would be their case if driven to the same\nexigencies. As covetousness is the root of all evil, so poverty is, I\nbelieve, the worst of all snares. But I waive that discourse till I\ncome to an experiment.\nI lived with this husband with the utmost tranquillity; he was a quiet,\nsensible, sober man; virtuous, modest, sincere, and in his business\ndiligent and just. His business was in a narrow compass, and his income\nsufficient to a plentiful way of living in the ordinary way. I do not\nsay to keep an equipage, and make a figure, as the world calls it, nor\ndid I expect it, or desire it; for as I abhorred the levity and\nextravagance of my former life, so I chose now to live retired, frugal,\nand within ourselves. I kept no company, made no visits; minded my\nfamily, and obliged my husband; and this kind of life became a pleasure\nto me.\nWe lived in an uninterrupted course of ease and content for five years,\nwhen a sudden blow from an almost invisible hand blasted all my\nhappiness, and turned me out into the world in a condition the reverse\nof all that had been before it.\nMy husband having trusted one of his fellow-clerks with a sum of money,\ntoo much for our fortunes to bear the loss of, the clerk failed, and\nthe loss fell very heavy on my husband, yet it was not so great neither\nbut that, if he had had spirit and courage to have looked his\nmisfortunes in the face, his credit was so good that, as I told him, he\nwould easily recover it; for to sink under trouble is to double the\nweight, and he that will die in it, shall die in it.\nIt was in vain to speak comfortably to him; the wound had sunk too\ndeep; it was a stab that touched the vitals; he grew melancholy and\ndisconsolate, and from thence lethargic, and died. I foresaw the blow,\nand was extremely oppressed in my mind, for I saw evidently that if he\ndied I was undone.\nI had had two children by him and no more, for, to tell the truth, it\nbegan to be time for me to leave bearing children, for I was now\neight-and-forty, and I suppose if he had lived I should have had no\nmore.\nI was now left in a dismal and disconsolate case indeed, and in several\nthings worse than ever. First, it was past the flourishing time with me\nwhen I might expect to be courted for a mistress; that agreeable part\nhad declined some time, and the ruins only appeared of what had been;\nand that which was worse than all this, that I was the most dejected,\ndisconsolate creature alive. I that had encouraged my husband, and\nendeavoured to support his spirits under his trouble, could not support\nmy own; I wanted that spirit in trouble which I told him was so\nnecessary to him for bearing the burthen.\nBut my case was indeed deplorable, for I was left perfectly friendless\nand helpless, and the loss my husband had sustained had reduced his\ncircumstances so low, that though indeed I was not in debt, yet I could\neasily foresee that what was left would not support me long; that while\nit wasted daily for subsistence, I had not way to increase it one\nshilling, so that it would be soon all spent, and then I saw nothing\nbefore me but the utmost distress; and this represented itself so\nlively to my thoughts, that it seemed as if it was come, before it was\nreally very near; also my very apprehensions doubled the misery, for I\nfancied every sixpence that I paid for a loaf of bread was the last\nthat I had in the world, and that to-morrow I was to fast, and be\nstarved to death.\nIn this distress I had no assistant, no friend to comfort or advise me;\nI sat and cried and tormented myself night and day, wringing my hands,\nand sometimes raving like a distracted woman; and indeed I have often\nwondered it had not affected my reason, for I had the vapours to such a\ndegree, that my understanding was sometimes quite lost in fancies and\nimaginations.\nI lived two years in this dismal condition, wasting that little I had,\nweeping continually over my dismal circumstances, and, as it were, only\nbleeding to death, without the least hope or prospect of help from God\nor man; and now I had cried too long, and so often, that tears were, as\nI might say, exhausted, and I began to be desperate, for I grew poor\napace.\nFor a little relief I had put off my house and took lodgings; and as I\nwas reducing my living, so I sold off most of my goods, which put a\nlittle money in my pocket, and I lived near a year upon that, spending\nvery sparingly, and eking things out to the utmost; but still when I\nlooked before me, my very heart would sink within me at the inevitable\napproach of misery and want. Oh let none read this part without\nseriously reflecting on the circumstances of a desolate state, and how\nthey would grapple with mere want of friends and want of bread; it will\ncertainly make them think not of sparing what they have only, but of\nlooking up to heaven for support, and of the wise man\u2019s prayer, \u201cGive\nme not poverty, lest I steal.\u201d\nLet them remember that a time of distress is a time of dreadful\ntemptation, and all the strength to resist is taken away; poverty\npresses, the soul is made desperate by distress, and what can be done?\nIt was one evening, when being brought, as I may say, to the last gasp,\nI think I may truly say I was distracted and raving, when prompted by I\nknow not what spirit, and, as it were, doing I did not know what or\nwhy, I dressed me (for I had still pretty good clothes) and went out. I\nam very sure I had no manner of design in my head when I went out; I\nneither knew nor considered where to go, or on what business; but as\nthe devil carried me out and laid his bait for me, so he brought me, to\nbe sure, to the place, for I knew not whither I was going or what I\ndid.\nWandering thus about, I knew not whither, I passed by an apothecary\u2019s\nshop in Leadenhall Street, when I saw lie on a stool just before the\ncounter a little bundle wrapped in a white cloth; beyond it stood a\nmaid-servant with her back to it, looking towards the top of the shop,\nwhere the apothecary\u2019s apprentice, as I suppose, was standing upon the\ncounter, with his back also to the door, and a candle in his hand,\nlooking and reaching up to the upper shelf for something he wanted, so\nthat both were engaged mighty earnestly, and nobody else in the shop.\nThis was the bait; and the devil, who I said laid the snare, as readily\nprompted me as if he had spoke, for I remember, and shall never forget\nit, \u2019twas like a voice spoken to me over my shoulder, \u201cTake the bundle;\nbe quick; do it this moment.\u201d It was no sooner said but I stepped into\nthe shop, and with my back to the wench, as if I had stood up for a\ncart that was going by, I put my hand behind me and took the bundle,\nand went off with it, the maid or the fellow not perceiving me, or any\none else.\nIt is impossible to express the horror of my soul all the while I did\nit. When I went away I had no heart to run, or scarce to mend my pace.\nI crossed the street indeed, and went down the first turning I came to,\nand I think it was a street that went through into Fenchurch Street.\nFrom thence I crossed and turned through so many ways and turnings,\nthat I could never tell which way it was, not where I went; for I felt\nnot the ground I stepped on, and the farther I was out of danger, the\nfaster I went, till, tired and out of breath, I was forced to sit down\non a little bench at a door, and then I began to recover, and found I\nwas got into Thames Street, near Billingsgate. I rested me a little and\nwent on; my blood was all in a fire; my heart beat as if I was in a\nsudden fright. In short, I was under such a surprise that I still knew\nnot wither I was going, or what to do.\nAfter I had tired myself thus with walking a long way about, and so\neagerly, I began to consider and make home to my lodging, where I came\nabout nine o\u2019clock at night.\nWhen the bundle was made up for, or on what occasion laid where I found\nit, I knew not, but when I came to open it I found there was a suit of\nchildbed-linen in it, very good and almost new, the lace very fine;\nthere was a silver porringer of a pint, a small silver mug and six\nspoons, with some other linen, a good smock, and three silk\nhandkerchiefs, and in the mug, wrapped up in a paper, 18s. 6d. in\nmoney.\nAll the while I was opening these things I was under such dreadful\nimpressions of fear, and I such terror of mind, though I was perfectly\nsafe, that I cannot express the manner of it. I sat me down, and cried\nmost vehemently. \u201cLord,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat am I now? a thief! Why, I shall\nbe taken next time, and be carried to Newgate and be tried for my\nlife!\u201d And with that I cried again a long time, and I am sure, as poor\nas I was, if I had durst for fear, I would certainly have carried the\nthings back again; but that went off after a while. Well, I went to bed\nfor that night, but slept little; the horror of the fact was upon my\nmind, and I knew not what I said or did all night, and all the next\nday. Then I was impatient to hear some news of the loss; and would fain\nknow how it was, whether they were a poor body\u2019s goods, or a rich.\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d said I, \u201cit may be some poor widow like me, that had packed\nup these goods to go and sell them for a little bread for herself and a\npoor child, and are now starving and breaking their hearts for want of\nthat little they would have fetched.\u201d And this thought tormented me\nworse than all the rest, for three or four days\u2019 time.\nBut my own distresses silenced all these reflections, and the prospect\nof my own starving, which grew every day more frightful to me, hardened\nmy heart by degrees. It was then particularly heavy upon my mind, that\nI had been reformed, and had, as I hoped, repented of all my past\nwickedness; that I had lived a sober, grave, retired life for several\nyears, but now I should be driven by the dreadful necessity of my\ncircumstances to the gates of destruction, soul and body; and two or\nthree times I fell upon my knees, praying to God, as well as I could,\nfor deliverance; but I cannot but say, my prayers had no hope in them.\nI knew not what to do; it was all fear without, and dark within; and I\nreflected on my past life as not sincerely repented of, that Heaven was\nnow beginning to punish me on this side the grave, and would make me as\nmiserable as I had been wicked.\nHad I gone on here I had perhaps been a true penitent; but I had an\nevil counsellor within, and he was continually prompting me to relieve\nmyself by the worst means; so one evening he tempted me again, by the\nsame wicked impulse that had said \u201cTake that bundle,\u201d to go out again\nand seek for what might happen.\nI went out now by daylight, and wandered about I knew not whither, and\nin search of I knew not what, when the devil put a snare in my way of a\ndreadful nature indeed, and such a one as I have never had before or\nsince. Going through Aldersgate Street, there was a pretty little child\nwho had been at a dancing-school, and was going home, all alone; and my\nprompter, like a true devil, set me upon this innocent creature. I\ntalked to it, and it prattled to me again, and I took it by the hand\nand led it along till I came to a paved alley that goes into\nBartholomew Close, and I led it in there. The child said that was not\nits way home. I said, \u201cYes, my dear, it is; I\u2019ll show you the way\nhome.\u201d The child had a little necklace on of gold beads, and I had my\neye upon that, and in the dark of the alley I stooped, pretending to\nmend the child\u2019s clog that was loose, and took off her necklace, and\nthe child never felt it, and so led the child on again. Here, I say,\nthe devil put me upon killing the child in the dark alley, that it\nmight not cry, but the very thought frighted me so that I was ready to\ndrop down; but I turned the child about and bade it go back again, for\nthat was not its way home. The child said, so she would, and I went\nthrough into Bartholomew Close, and then turned round to another\npassage that goes into St. John Street; then, crossing into Smithfield,\nwent down Chick Lane and into Field Lane to Holborn Bridge, when,\nmixing with the crowd of people usually passing there, it was not\npossible to have been found out; and thus I enterprised my second sally\ninto the world.\nThe thoughts of this booty put out all the thoughts of the first, and\nthe reflections I had made wore quickly off; poverty, as I have said,\nhardened my heart, and my own necessities made me regardless of\nanything. The last affair left no great concern upon me, for as I did\nthe poor child no harm, I only said to myself, I had given the parents\na just reproof for their negligence in leaving the poor little lamb to\ncome home by itself, and it would teach them to take more care of it\nanother time.\nThis string of beads was worth about twelve or fourteen pounds. I\nsuppose it might have been formerly the mother\u2019s, for it was too big\nfor the child\u2019s wear, but that perhaps the vanity of the mother, to\nhave her child look fine at the dancing-school, had made her let the\nchild wear it; and no doubt the child had a maid sent to take care of\nit, but she, careless jade, was taken up perhaps with some fellow that\nhad met her by the way, and so the poor baby wandered till it fell into\nmy hands.\nHowever, I did the child no harm; I did not so much as fright it, for I\nhad a great many tender thoughts about me yet, and did nothing but\nwhat, as I may say, mere necessity drove me to.\nI had a great many adventures after this, but I was young in the\nbusiness, and did not know how to manage, otherwise than as the devil\nput things into my head; and indeed he was seldom backward to me. One\nadventure I had which was very lucky to me. I was going through Lombard\nStreet in the dusk of the evening, just by the end of Three King court,\nwhen on a sudden comes a fellow running by me as swift as lightning,\nand throws a bundle that was in his hand, just behind me, as I stood up\nagainst the corner of the house at the turning into the alley. Just as\nhe threw it in he said, \u201cGod bless you, mistress, let it lie there a\nlittle,\u201d and away he runs swift as the wind. After him comes two more,\nand immediately a young fellow without his hat, crying \u201cStop thief!\u201d\nand after him two or three more. They pursued the two last fellows so\nclose, that they were forced to drop what they had got, and one of them\nwas taken into the bargain, and other got off free.\nI stood stock-still all this while, till they came back, dragging the\npoor fellow they had taken, and lugging the things they had found,\nextremely well satisfied that they had recovered the booty and taken\nthe thief; and thus they passed by me, for I looked only like one who\nstood up while the crowd was gone.\nOnce or twice I asked what was the matter, but the people neglected\nanswering me, and I was not very importunate; but after the crowd was\nwholly past, I took my opportunity to turn about and take up what was\nbehind me and walk away. This, indeed, I did with less disturbance than\nI had done formerly, for these things I did not steal, but they were\nstolen to my hand. I got safe to my lodgings with this cargo, which was\na piece of fine black lustring silk, and a piece of velvet; the latter\nwas but part of a piece of about eleven yards; the former was a whole\npiece of near fifty yards. It seems it was a mercer\u2019s shop that they\nhad rifled. I say rifled, because the goods were so considerable that\nthey had lost; for the goods that they recovered were pretty many, and\nI believe came to about six or seven several pieces of silk. How they\ncame to get so many I could not tell; but as I had only robbed the\nthief, I made no scruple at taking these goods, and being very glad of\nthem too.\nI had pretty good luck thus far, and I made several adventures more,\nthough with but small purchase, yet with good success, but I went in\ndaily dread that some mischief would befall me, and that I should\ncertainly come to be hanged at last. The impression this made on me was\ntoo strong to be slighted, and it kept me from making attempts that,\nfor ought I knew, might have been very safely performed; but one thing\nI cannot omit, which was a bait to me many a day. I walked frequently\nout into the villages round the town, to see if nothing would fall in\nmy way there; and going by a house near Stepney, I saw on the\nwindow-board two rings, one a small diamond ring, and the other a gold\nring, to be sure laid there by some thoughtless lady, that had more\nmoney then forecast, perhaps only till she washed her hands.\nI walked several times by the window to observe if I could see whether\nthere was anybody in the room or no, and I could see nobody, but still\nI was not sure. It came presently into my thoughts to rap at the glass,\nas if I wanted to speak with somebody, and if anybody was there they\nwould be sure to come to the window, and then I would tell them to\nremove those rings, for that I had seen two suspicious fellows take\nnotice of them. This was a ready thought. I rapped once or twice and\nnobody came, when, seeing the coast clear, I thrust hard against the\nsquare of the glass, and broke it with very little noise, and took out\nthe two rings, and walked away with them very safe. The diamond ring\nwas worth about \u00a33, and the other about 9s.\nI was now at a loss for a market for my goods, and especially for my\ntwo pieces of silk. I was very loth to dispose of them for a trifle, as\nthe poor unhappy thieves in general do, who, after they have ventured\ntheir lives for perhaps a thing of value, are fain to sell it for a\nsong when they have done; but I was resolved I would not do thus,\nwhatever shift I made, unless I was driven to the last extremity.\nHowever, I did not well know what course to take. At last I resolved to\ngo to my old governess, and acquaint myself with her again. I had\npunctually supplied the \u00a35 a year to her for my little boy as long as I\nwas able, but at last was obliged to put a stop to it. However, I had\nwritten a letter to her, wherein I had told her that my circumstances\nwere reduced very low; that I had lost my husband, and that I was not\nable to do it any longer, and so begged that the poor child might not\nsuffer too much for its mother\u2019s misfortunes.\nI now made her a visit, and I found that she drove something of the old\ntrade still, but that she was not in such flourishing circumstances as\nbefore; for she had been sued by a certain gentleman who had had his\ndaughter stolen from him, and who, it seems, she had helped to convey\naway; and it was very narrowly that she escaped the gallows. The\nexpense also had ravaged her, and she was become very poor; her house\nwas but meanly furnished, and she was not in such repute for her\npractice as before; however, she stood upon her legs, as they say, and\nas she was a stirring, bustling woman, and had some stock left, she was\nturned pawnbroker, and lived pretty well.\nShe received me very civilly, and with her usual obliging manner told\nme she would not have the less respect for me for my being reduced;\nthat she had taken care my boy was very well looked after, though I\ncould not pay for him, and that the woman that had him was easy, so\nthat I needed not to trouble myself about him till I might be better\nable to do it effectually.\nI told her that I had not much money left, but that I had some things\nthat were money\u2019s worth, if she could tell me how I might turn them\ninto money. She asked me what it was I had. I pulled out the string of\ngold beads, and told her it was one of my husband\u2019s presents to me;\nthen I showed her the two parcels of silk, which I told her I had from\nIreland, and brought up to town with me; and the little diamond ring.\nAs to the small parcel of plate and spoons, I had found means to\ndispose of them myself before; and as for the childbed-linen I had, she\noffered me to take it herself, believing it to have been my own. She\ntold me that she was turned pawnbroker, and that she would sell those\nthings for me as pawn to her; and so she sent presently for proper\nagents that bought them, being in her hands, without any scruple, and\ngave good prices too.\nI now began to think this necessary woman might help me a little in my\nlow condition to some business, for I would gladly have turned my hand\nto any honest employment if I could have got it. But here she was\ndeficient; honest business did not come within her reach. If I had been\nyounger, perhaps she might have helped me to a spark, but my thoughts\nwere off that kind of livelihood, as being quite out of the way after\nfifty, which was my case, and so I told her.\nShe invited me at last to come, and be at her house till I could find\nsomething to do, and it should cost me very little, and this I gladly\naccepted of. And now living a little easier, I entered into some\nmeasures to have my little son by my last husband taken off; and this\nshe made easy too, reserving a payment only of \u00a35 a year, if I could\npay it. This was such a help to me, that for a good while I left off\nthe wicked trade that I had so newly taken up; and gladly I would have\ngot my bread by the help of my needle if I could have got work, but\nthat was very hard to do for one that had no manner of acquaintance in\nthe world.\nHowever, at last I got some quilting work for ladies\u2019 beds, petticoats,\nand the like; and this I liked very well, and worked very hard, and\nwith this I began to live; but the diligent devil, who resolved I\nshould continue in his service, continually prompted me to go out and\ntake a walk, that is to say, to see if anything would offer in the old\nway.\nOne evening I blindly obeyed his summons, and fetched a long circuit\nthrough the streets, but met with no purchase, and came home very weary\nand empty; but not content with that, I went out the next evening too,\nwhen going by an alehouse I saw the door of a little room open, next\nthe very street, and on the table a silver tankard, things much in use\nin public-houses at that time. It seems some company had been drinking\nthere, and the careless boys had forgot to take it away.\nI went into the box frankly, and setting the silver tankard on the\ncorner of the bench, I sat down before it, and knocked with my foot; a\nboy came presently, and I bade him fetch me a pint of warm ale, for it\nwas cold weather; the boy ran, and I heard him go down the cellar to\ndraw the ale. While the boy was gone, another boy came into the room,\nand cried, \u201cD\u2019 ye call?\u201d I spoke with a melancholy air, and said, \u201cNo,\nchild; the boy is gone for a pint of ale for me.\u201d\nWhile I sat here, I heard the woman in the bar say, \u201cAre they all gone\nin the five?\u201d which was the box I sat in, and the boy said, \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cWho\nfetched the tankard away?\u201d says the woman. \u201cI did,\u201d says another boy;\n\u201cthat\u2019s it,\u201d pointing, it seems, to another tankard, which he had\nfetched from another box by mistake; or else it must be, that the rogue\nforgot that he had not brought it in, which certainly he had not.\nI heard all this, much to my satisfaction, for I found plainly that the\ntankard was not missed, and yet they concluded it was fetched away; so\nI drank my ale, called to pay, and as I went away I said, \u201cTake care of\nyour plate, child,\u201d meaning a silver pint mug, which he brought me\ndrink in. The boy said, \u201cYes, madam, very welcome,\u201d and away I came.\nI came home to my governess, and now I thought it was a time to try\nher, that if I might be put to the necessity of being exposed, she\nmight offer me some assistance. When I had been at home some time, and\nhad an opportunity of talking to her, I told her I had a secret of the\ngreatest consequence in the world to commit to her, if she had respect\nenough for me to keep it a secret. She told me she had kept one of my\nsecrets faithfully; why should I doubt her keeping another? I told her\nthe strangest thing in the world had befallen me, and that it had made\na thief of me, even without any design, and so told her the whole story\nof the tankard. \u201cAnd have you brought it away with you, my dear?\u201d says\nshe. \u201cTo be sure I have,\u201d says I, and showed it her. \u201cBut what shall I\ndo now,\u201d says I; \u201cmust not carry it again?\u201d\n\u201cCarry it again!\u201d says she. \u201cAy, if you are minded to be sent to\nNewgate for stealing it.\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cthey can\u2019t be so base to stop\nme, when I carry it to them again?\u201d \u201cYou don\u2019t know those sort of\npeople, child,\u201d says she; \u201cthey\u2019ll not only carry you to Newgate, but\nhang you too, without any regard to the honesty of returning it; or\nbring in an account of all the other tankards they have lost, for you\nto pay for.\u201d \u201cWhat must I do, then?\u201d says I. \u201cNay,\u201d says she, \u201cas you\nhave played the cunning part and stole it, you must e\u2019en keep it;\nthere\u2019s no going back now. Besides, child,\u201d says she, \u201cdon\u2019t you want\nit more than they do? I wish you could light of such a bargain once a\nweek.\u201d\nThis gave me a new notion of my governess, and that since she was\nturned pawnbroker, she had a sort of people about her that were none of\nthe honest ones that I had met with there before.\nI had not been long there but I discovered it more plainly than before,\nfor every now and then I saw hilts of swords, spoons, forks, tankards,\nand all such kind of ware brought in, not to be pawned, but to be sold\ndownright; and she bought everything that came without asking any\nquestions, but had very good bargains, as I found by her discourse.\nI found also that in following this trade she always melted down the\nplate she bought, that it might not be challenged; and she came to me\nand told me one morning that she was going to melt, and if I would, she\nwould put my tankard in, that it might not be seen by anybody. I told\nher, with all my heart; so she weighed it, and allowed me the full\nvalue in silver again; but I found she did not do the same to the rest\nof her customers.\nSome time after this, as I was at work, and very melancholy, she begins\nto ask me what the matter was, as she was used to do. I told her my\nheart was heavy; I had little work, and nothing to live on, and knew\nnot what course to take. She laughed, and told me I must go out again\nand try my fortune; it might be that I might meet with another piece of\nplate. \u201cO mother!\u201d says I, \u201cthat is a trade I have no skill in, and if\nI should be taken I am undone at once.\u201d Says she, \u201cI could help you to\na schoolmistress that shall make you as dexterous as herself.\u201d I\ntrembled at that proposal, for hitherto I had had no confederates, nor\nany acquaintance among that tribe. But she conquered all my modesty,\nand all my fears; and in a little time, by the help of this\nconfederate, I grew as impudent a thief, and as dexterous as ever Moll\nCutpurse was, though, if fame does not belie her, not half so handsome.\nThe comrade she helped me to dealt in three sorts of craft, viz.\nshoplifting, stealing of shop-books and pocket-books, and taking off\ngold watches from the ladies\u2019 sides; and this last she did so\ndexterously that no woman ever arrived to the performance of that art\nso as to do it like her. I liked the first and the last of these things\nvery well, and I attended her some time in the practice, just as a\ndeputy attends a midwife, without any pay.\nAt length she put me to practice. She had shown me her art, and I had\nseveral times unhooked a watch from her own side with great dexterity.\nAt last she showed me a prize, and this was a young lady big with\nchild, who had a charming watch. The thing was to be done as she came\nout of church. She goes on one side of the lady, and pretends, just as\nshe came to the steps, to fall, and fell against the lady with so much\nviolence as put her into a great fright, and both cried out terribly.\nIn the very moment that she jostled the lady, I had hold of the watch,\nand holding it the right way, the start she gave drew the hook out, and\nshe never felt it. I made off immediately, and left my schoolmistress\nto come out of her pretended fright gradually, and the lady too; and\npresently the watch was missed. \u201cAy,\u201d says my comrade, \u201cthen it was\nthose rogues that thrust me down, I warrant ye; I wonder the\ngentlewoman did not miss her watch before, then we might have taken\nthem.\u201d\nShe humoured the thing so well that nobody suspected her, and I was got\nhome a full hour before her. This was my first adventure in company.\nThe watch was indeed a very fine one, and had a great many trinkets\nabout it, and my governess allowed us \u00a320 for it, of which I had half.\nAnd thus I was entered a complete thief, hardened to the pitch above\nall the reflections of conscience or modesty, and to a degree which I\nmust acknowledge I never thought possible in me.\nThus the devil, who began, by the help of an irresistible poverty, to\npush me into this wickedness, brought me on to a height beyond the\ncommon rate, even when my necessities were not so great, or the\nprospect of my misery so terrifying; for I had now got into a little\nvein of work, and as I was not at a loss to handle my needle, it was\nvery probable, as acquaintance came in, I might have got my bread\nhonestly enough.\nI must say, that if such a prospect of work had presented itself at\nfirst, when I began to feel the approach of my miserable\ncircumstances\u2014I say, had such a prospect of getting my bread by working\npresented itself then, I had never fallen into this wicked trade, or\ninto such a wicked gang as I was now embarked with; but practice had\nhardened me, and I grew audacious to the last degree; and the more so\nbecause I had carried it on so long, and had never been taken; for, in\na word, my new partner in wickedness and I went on together so long,\nwithout being ever detected, that we not only grew bold, but we grew\nrich, and we had at one time one-and-twenty gold watches in our hands.\nI remember that one day being a little more serious than ordinary, and\nfinding I had so good a stock beforehand as I had, for I had near \u00a3200\nin money for my share, it came strongly into my mind, no doubt from\nsome kind spirit, if such there be, that at first poverty excited me,\nand my distresses drove me to these dreadful shifts; so seeing those\ndistresses were now relieved, and I could also get something towards a\nmaintenance by working, and had so good a bank to support me, why\nshould I now not leave off, as they say, while I was well? that I could\nnot expect to go always free; and if I was once surprised, and\nmiscarried, I was undone.\nThis was doubtless the happy minute, when, if I had hearkened to the\nblessed hint, from whatsoever had it came, I had still a cast for an\neasy life. But my fate was otherwise determined; the busy devil that so\nindustriously drew me in had too fast hold of me to let me go back; but\nas poverty brought me into the mire, so avarice kept me in, till there\nwas no going back. As to the arguments which my reason dictated for\npersuading me to lay down, avarice stepped in and said, \u201cGo on, go on;\nyou have had very good luck; go on till you have gotten four or five\nhundred pounds, and then you shall leave off, and then you may live\neasy without working at all.\u201d\nThus I, that was once in the devil\u2019s clutches, was held fast there as\nwith a charm, and had no power to go without the circle, till I was\nengulfed in labyrinths of trouble too great to get out at all.\nHowever, these thoughts left some impression upon me, and made me act\nwith some more caution than before, and more than my directors used for\nthemselves. My comrade, as I called her, but rather she should have\nbeen called my teacher, with another of her scholars, was the first in\nthe misfortune; for, happening to be upon the hunt for purchase, they\nmade an attempt upon a linen-draper in Cheapside, but were snapped by a\nhawk\u2019s-eyed journeyman, and seized with two pieces of cambric, which\nwere taken also upon them.\nThis was enough to lodge them both in Newgate, where they had the\nmisfortune to have some of their former sins brought to remembrance.\nTwo other indictments being brought against them, and the facts being\nproved upon them, they were both condemned to die. They both pleaded\ntheir bellies, and were both voted quick with child; though my tutoress\nwas no more with child than I was.\nI went frequently to see them, and condole with them, expecting that it\nwould be my turn next; but the place gave me so much horror, reflecting\nthat it was the place of my unhappy birth, and of my mother\u2019s\nmisfortunes, and that I could not bear it, so I was forced to leave off\ngoing to see them.\nAnd oh! could I have but taken warning by their disasters, I had been\nhappy still, for I was yet free, and had nothing brought against me;\nbut it could not be, my measure was not yet filled up.\nMy comrade, having the brand of an old offender, was executed; the\nyoung offender was spared, having obtained a reprieve, but lay starving\na long while in prison, till at last she got her name into what they\ncall a circuit pardon, and so came off.\nThis terrible example of my comrade frighted me heartily, and for a\ngood while I made no excursions; but one night, in the neighbourhood of\nmy governess\u2019s house, they cried \u201cFire.\u201d My governess looked out, for\nwe were all up, and cried immediately that such a gentlewoman\u2019s house\nwas all of a light fire atop, and so indeed it was. Here she gives me a\njob. \u201cNow, child,\u201d says she, \u201cthere is a rare opportunity, for the fire\nbeing so near that you may go to it before the street is blocked up\nwith the crowd.\u201d She presently gave me my cue. \u201cGo, child,\u201d says she,\n\u201cto the house, and run in and tell the lady, or anybody you see, that\nyou come to help them, and that you came from such a gentlewoman (that\nis, one of her acquaintance farther up the street).\u201d She gave me the\nlike cue to the next house, naming another name that was also an\nacquaintance of the gentlewoman of the house.\nAway I went, and, coming to the house, I found them all in confusion,\nyou may be sure. I ran in, and finding one of the maids, \u201cLord!\nsweetheart,\u201d says I, \u201chow came this dismal accident? Where is your\nmistress? Any how does she do? Is she safe? And where are the children?\nI come from Madam \u2014\u2014 to help you.\u201d Away runs the maid. \u201cMadam, madam,\u201d\nsays she, screaming as loud as she could yell, \u201chere is a gentlewoman\ncome from Madam \u2014\u2014 to help us.\u201d The poor woman, half out of her wits,\nwith a bundle under her arm, an two little children, comes toward me.\n\u201cLord! madam,\u201d says I, \u201clet me carry the poor children to Madam \u2014\u2014,\u201d\nshe desires you to send them; she\u2019ll take care of the poor lambs;\u2019 and\nimmediately I takes one of them out of her hand, and she lifts the\nother up into my arms. \u201cAy, do, for God\u2019s sake,\u201d says she, \u201ccarry them\nto her. Oh! thank her for her kindness.\u201d \u201cHave you anything else to\nsecure, madam?\u201d says I; \u201cshe will take care of it.\u201d \u201cOh dear! ay,\u201d says\nshe, \u201cGod bless her, and thank her. Take this bundle of plate and carry\nit to her too. Oh, she is a good woman. Oh Lord! we are utterly ruined,\nutterly undone!\u201d And away she runs from me out of her wits, and the\nmaids after her; and away comes I with the two children and the bundle.\nI was no sooner got into the street but I saw another woman come to me.\n\u201cOh!\u201d says she, \u201cmistress,\u201d in a piteous tone, \u201cyou will let fall the\nchild. Come, this is a sad time; let me help you\u201d; and immediately lays\nhold of my bundle to carry it for me. \u201cNo,\u201d says I; \u201cif you will help\nme, take the child by the hand, and lead it for me but to the upper end\nof the street; I\u2019ll go with you and satisfy you for your pains.\u201d\nShe could not avoid going, after what I said; but the creature, in\nshort, was one of the same business with me, and wanted nothing but the\nbundle; however, she went with me to the door, for she could not help\nit. When we were come there I whispered her, \u201cGo, child,\u201d said I, \u201cI\nunderstand your trade; you may meet with purchase enough.\u201d\nShe understood me and walked off. I thundered at the door with the\nchildren, and as the people were raised before by the noise of the\nfire, I was soon let in, and I said, \u201cIs madam awake? Pray tell her\nMrs. \u2014\u2014 desires the favour of her to take the two children in; poor\nlady, she will be undone, their house is all of a flame,\u201d They took the\nchildren in very civilly, pitied the family in distress, and away came\nI with my bundle. One of the maids asked me if I was not to leave the\nbundle too. I said, \u201cNo, sweetheart, \u2019tis to go to another place; it\ndoes not belong to them.\u201d\nI was a great way out of the hurry now, and so I went on, clear of\nanybody\u2019s inquiry, and brought the bundle of plate, which was very\nconsiderable, straight home, and gave it to my old governess. She told\nme she would not look into it, but bade me go out again to look for\nmore.\nShe gave me the like cue to the gentlewoman of the next house to that\nwhich was on fire, and I did my endeavour to go, but by this time the\nalarm of fire was so great, and so many engines playing, and the street\nso thronged with people, that I could not get near the house whatever I\nwould do; so I came back again to my governess\u2019s, and taking the bundle\nup into my chamber, I began to examine it. It is with horror that I\ntell what a treasure I found there; \u2019tis enough to say, that besides\nmost of the family plate, which was considerable, I found a gold chain,\nan old-fashioned thing, the locket of which was broken, so that I\nsuppose it had not been used some years, but the gold was not the worse\nfor that; also a little box of burying-rings, the lady\u2019s wedding-ring,\nand some broken bits of old lockets of gold, a gold watch, and a purse\nwith about \u00a324 value in old pieces of gold coin, and several other\nthings of value.\nThis was the greatest and the worst prize that ever I was concerned in;\nfor indeed, though, as I have said above, I was hardened now beyond the\npower of all reflection in other cases, yet it really touched me to the\nvery soul when I looked into this treasure, to think of the poor\ndisconsolate gentlewoman who had lost so much by the fire besides; and\nwho would think, to be sure, that she had saved her plate and best\nthings; how she would be surprised and afflicted when she should find\nthat she had been deceived, and should find that the person that took\nher children and her goods, had not come, as was pretended, from the\ngentlewoman in the next street, but that the children had been put upon\nher without her own knowledge.\nI say, I confess the inhumanity of this action moved me very much, and\nmade me relent exceedingly, and tears stood in my eyes upon that\nsubject; but with all my sense of its being cruel and inhuman, I could\nnever find in my heart to make any restitution. The reflection wore\noff, and I began quickly to forget the circumstances that attended the\ntaking them.\nNor was this all; for though by this job I was become considerably\nricher than before, yet the resolution I had formerly taken, of leaving\noff this horrid trade when I had gotten a little more, did not return,\nbut I must still get farther, and more; and the avarice joined so with\nthe success, that I had no more thought of coming to a timely\nalteration of life, though without it I could expect no safety, no\ntranquillity in the possession of what I had so wickedly gained; but a\nlittle more, and a little more, was the case still.\nAt length, yielding to the importunities of my crime, I cast off all\nremorse and repentance, and all the reflections on that head turned to\nno more than this, that I might perhaps come to have one booty more\nthat might complete my desires; but though I certainly had that one\nbooty, yet every hit looked towards another, and was so encouraging to\nme to go on with the trade, that I had no gust to the thought of laying\nit down.\nIn this condition, hardened by success, and resolving to go on, I fell\ninto the snare in which I was appointed to meet with my last reward for\nthis kind of life. But even this was not yet, for I met with several\nsuccessful adventures more in this way of being undone.\nI remained still with my governess, who was for a while really\nconcerned for the misfortune of my comrade that had been hanged, and\nwho, it seems, knew enough of my governess to have sent her the same\nway, and which made her very uneasy; indeed, she was in a very great\nfright.\nIt is true that when she was gone, and had not opened mouth to tell\nwhat she knew, my governess was easy as to that point, and perhaps glad\nshe was hanged, for it was in her power to have obtained a pardon at\nthe expense of her friends; but on the other hand, the loss of her, and\nthe sense of her kindness in not making her market of what she knew,\nmoved my governess to mourn very sincerely for her. I comforted her as\nwell as I could, and she in return hardened me to merit more completely\nthe same fate.\nHowever, as I have said, it made me the more wary, and particularly I\nwas very shy of shoplifting, especially among the mercers and drapers,\nwho are a set of fellows that have their eyes very much about them. I\nmade a venture or two among the lace folks and the milliners, and\nparticularly at one shop where I got notice of two young women who were\nnewly set up, and had not been bred to the trade. There I think I\ncarried off a piece of bone-lace, worth six or seven pounds, and a\npaper of thread. But this was but once; it was a trick that would not\nserve again.\nIt was always reckoned a safe job when we heard of a new shop, and\nespecially when the people were such as were not bred to shops. Such\nmay depend upon it that they will be visited once or twice at their\nbeginning, and they must be very sharp indeed if they can prevent it.\nI made another adventure or two, but they were but trifles too, though\nsufficient to live on. After this nothing considerable offering for a\ngood while, I began to think that I must give over the trade in\nearnest; but my governess, who was not willing to lose me, and expected\ngreat things of me, brought me one day into company with a young woman\nand a fellow that went for her husband, though as it appeared\nafterwards, she was not his wife, but they were partners, it seems, in\nthe trade they carried on, and partners in something else. In short,\nthey robbed together, lay together, were taken together, and at last\nwere hanged together.\nI came into a kind of league with these two by the help of my\ngoverness, and they carried me out into three or four adventures, where\nI rather saw them commit some coarse and unhandy robberies, in which\nnothing but a great stock of impudence on their side, and gross\nnegligence on the people\u2019s side who were robbed, could have made them\nsuccessful. So I resolved from that time forward to be very cautious\nhow I adventured upon anything with them; and indeed, when two or three\nunlucky projects were proposed by them, I declined the offer, and\npersuaded them against it. One time they particularly proposed robbing\na watchmaker of three gold watches, which they had eyed in the daytime,\nand found the place where he laid them. One of them had so many keys of\nall kinds, that he made no question to open the place where the\nwatchmaker had laid them; and so we made a kind of an appointment; but\nwhen I came to look narrowly into the thing, I found they proposed\nbreaking open the house, and this, as a thing out of my way, I would\nnot embark in, so they went without me. They did get into the house by\nmain force, and broke up the locked place where the watches were, but\nfound but one of the gold watches, and a silver one, which they took,\nand got out of the house again very clear. But the family, being\nalarmed, cried out \u201cThieves,\u201d and the man was pursued and taken; the\nyoung woman had got off too, but unhappily was stopped at a distance,\nand the watches found upon her. And thus I had a second escape, for\nthey were convicted, and both hanged, being old offenders, though but\nyoung people. As I said before that they robbed together and lay\ntogether, so now they hanged together, and there ended my new\npartnership.\nI began now to be very wary, having so narrowly escaped a scouring, and\nhaving such an example before me; but I had a new tempter, who prompted\nme every day\u2014I mean my governess; and now a prize presented, which as\nit came by her management, so she expected a good share of the booty.\nThere was a good quantity of Flanders lace lodged in a private house,\nwhere she had gotten intelligence of it, and Flanders lace being\nprohibited, it was a good booty to any custom-house officer that could\ncome at it. I had a full account from my governess, as well of the\nquantity as of the very place where it was concealed, and I went to a\ncustom-house officer, and told him I had such a discovery to make to\nhim of such a quantity of lace, if he would assure me that I should\nhave my due share of the reward. This was so just an offer, that\nnothing could be fairer; so he agreed, and taking a constable and me\nwith him, we beset the house. As I told him I could go directly to the\nplace, he left it to me; and the hole being very dark, I squeezed\nmyself into it, with a candle in my hand, and so reached the pieces out\nto him, taking care as I gave him some so to secure as much about\nmyself as I could conveniently dispose of. There was near \u00a3300 worth of\nlace in the hole, and I secured about \u00a350 worth of it to myself. The\npeople of the house were not owners of the lace, but a merchant who had\nentrusted them with it; so that they were not so surprised as I thought\nthey would be.\nI left the officer overjoyed with his prize, and fully satisfied with\nwhat he had got, and appointed to meet him at a house of his own\ndirecting, where I came after I had disposed of the cargo I had about\nme, of which he had not the least suspicion. When I came to him he\nbegan to capitulate with me, believing I did not understand the right I\nhad to a share in the prize, and would fain have put me off with \u00a320,\nbut I let him know that I was not so ignorant as he supposed I was; and\nyet I was glad, too, that he offered to bring me to a certainty.\nI asked \u00a3100, and he rose up to \u00a330; I fell to \u00a380, and he rose again\nto \u00a340; in a word, he offered \u00a350, and I consented, only demanding a\npiece of lace, which I thought came to about \u00a38 or \u00a39, as if it had\nbeen for my own wear, and he agreed to it. So I got \u00a350 in money paid\nme that same night, and made an end of the bargain; nor did he ever\nknow who I was, or where to inquire for me, so that if it had been\ndiscovered that part of the goods were embezzled, he could have made no\nchallenge upon me for it.\nI very punctually divided this spoil with my governess, and I passed\nwith her from this time for a very dexterous manager in the nicest\ncases. I found that this last was the best and easiest sort of work\nthat was in my way, and I made it my business to inquire out prohibited\ngoods, and after buying some, usually betrayed them, but none of these\ndiscoveries amounted to anything considerable, not like that I related\njust now; but I was willing to act safe, and was still cautious of\nrunning the great risks which I found others did, and in which they\nmiscarried every day.\nThe next thing of moment was an attempt at a gentlewoman\u2019s good watch.\nIt happened in a crowd, at a meeting-house, where I was in very great\ndanger of being taken. I had full hold of her watch, but giving a great\njostle, as if somebody had thrust me against her, and in the juncture\ngiving the watch a fair pull, I found it would not come, so I let it go\nthat moment, and cried out as if I had been killed, that somebody had\ntrod upon my foot, and that there were certainly pickpockets there, for\nsomebody or other had given a pull at my watch; for you are to observe\nthat on these adventures we always went very well dressed, and I had\nvery good clothes on, and a gold watch by my side, as like a lady as\nother fold.\nI had no sooner said so, but the other gentlewoman cried out \u201cA\npickpocket\u201d too, for somebody, she said, had tried to pull her watch\naway.\nWhen I touched her watch I was close to her, but when I cried out I\nstopped as it were short, and the crowd bearing her forward a little,\nshe made a noise too, but it was at some distance from me, so that she\ndid not in the least suspect me; but when she cried out \u201cA pickpocket,\u201d\nsomebody cried, \u201cAy, and here has been another! this gentlewoman has\nbeen attempted too.\u201d\nAt that very instance, a little farther in the crowd, and very luckily\ntoo, they cried out \u201cA pickpocket,\u201d again, and really seized a young\nfellow in the very act. This, though unhappy for the wretch, was very\nopportunely for my case, though I had carried it off handsomely enough\nbefore; but now it was out of doubt, and all the loose part of the\ncrowd ran that way, and the poor boy was delivered up to the rage of\nthe street, which is a cruelty I need not describe, and which, however,\nthey are always glad of, rather than to be sent to Newgate, where they\nlie often a long time, till they are almost perished, and sometimes\nthey are hanged, and the best they can look for, if they are convicted,\nis to be transported.\nThis was a narrow escape to me, and I was so frighted that I ventured\nno more at gold watches a great while. There was indeed a great many\nconcurring circumstances in this adventure which assisted to my escape;\nbut the chief was, that the woman whose watch I had pulled at was a\nfool; that is to say, she was ignorant of the nature of the attempt,\nwhich one would have thought she should not have been, seeing she was\nwise enough to fasten her watch so that it could not be slipped up. But\nshe was in such a fright that she had no thought about her proper for\nthe discovery; for she, when she felt the pull, screamed out, and\npushed herself forward, and put all the people about her into disorder,\nbut said not a word of her watch, or of a pickpocket, for at least two\nminutes\u2019 time, which was time enough for me, and to spare. For as I had\ncried out behind her, as I have said, and bore myself back in the crowd\nas she bore forward, there were several people, at least seven or\neight, the throng being still moving on, that were got between me and\nher in that time, and then I crying out \u201cA pickpocket,\u201d rather sooner\nthan she, or at least as soon, she might as well be the person\nsuspected as I, and the people were confused in their inquiry; whereas,\nhad she with a presence of mind needful on such an occasion, as soon as\nshe felt the pull, not screamed out as she did, but turned immediately\nround and seized the next body that was behind her, she had infallibly\ntaken me.\nThis is a direction not of the kindest sort to the fraternity, but \u2019tis\ncertainly a key to the clue of a pickpocket\u2019s motions, and whoever can\nfollow it will as certainly catch the thief as he will be sure to miss\nif he does not.\nI had another adventure, which puts this matter out of doubt, and which\nmay be an instruction for posterity in the case of a pickpocket. My\ngood old governess, to give a short touch at her history, though she\nhad left off the trade, was, as I may say, born a pickpocket, and, as I\nunderstood afterwards, had run through all the several degrees of that\nart, and yet had never been taken but once, when she was so grossly\ndetected, that she was convicted and ordered to be transported; but\nbeing a woman of a rare tongue, and withal having money in her pocket,\nshe found means, the ship putting into Ireland for provisions, to get\non shore there, where she lived and practised her old trade for some\nyears; when falling into another sort of bad company, she turned\nmidwife and procuress, and played a hundred pranks there, which she\ngave me a little history of in confidence between us as we grew more\nintimate; and it was to this wicked creature that I owed all the art\nand dexterity I arrived to, in which there were few that ever went\nbeyond me, or that practised so long without any misfortune.\nIt was after those adventures in Ireland, and when she was pretty well\nknown in that country, that she left Dublin and came over to England,\nwhere, the time of her transportation being not expired, she left her\nformer trade, for fear of falling into bad hands again, for then she\nwas sure to have gone to wreck. Here she set up the same trade she had\nfollowed in Ireland, in which she soon, by her admirable management and\ngood tongue, arrived to the height which I have already described, and\nindeed began to be rich, though her trade fell off again afterwards, as\nI have hinted before.\nI mentioned thus much of the history of this woman here, the better to\naccount for the concern she had in the wicked life I was now leading,\ninto all the particulars of which she led me, as it were, by the hand,\nand gave me such directions, and I so well followed them, that I grew\nthe greatest artist of my time and worked myself out of every danger\nwith such dexterity, that when several more of my comrades ran\nthemselves into Newgate presently, and by that time they had been half\na year at the trade, I had now practised upwards of five years, and the\npeople at Newgate did not so much as know me; they had heard much of me\nindeed, and often expected me there, but I always got off, though many\ntimes in the extremest danger.\nOne of the greatest dangers I was now in, was that I was too well known\namong the trade, and some of them, whose hatred was owing rather to\nenvy than any injury I had done them, began to be angry that I should\nalways escape when they were always catched and hurried to Newgate.\nThese were they that gave me the name of Moll Flanders; for it was no\nmore of affinity with my real name or with any of the name I had ever\ngone by, than black is of kin to white, except that once, as before, I\ncalled myself Mrs. Flanders; when I sheltered myself in the Mint; but\nthat these rogues never knew, nor could I ever learn how they came to\ngive me the name, or what the occasion of it was.\nI was soon informed that some of these who were gotten fast into\nNewgate had vowed to impeach me; and as I knew that two or three of\nthem were but too able to do it, I was under a great concern about it,\nand kept within doors for a good while. But my governess\u2014whom I always\nmade partner in my success, and who now played a sure game with me, for\nthat she had a share of the gain and no share in the hazard\u2014I say, my\ngoverness was something impatient of my leading such a useless,\nunprofitable life, as she called it; and she laid a new contrivance for\nmy going abroad, and this was to dress me up in men\u2019s clothes, and so\nput me into a new kind of practice.\nI was tall and personable, but a little too smooth-faced for a man;\nhowever, I seldom went abroad but in the night, it did well enough; but\nit was a long time before I could behave in my new clothes\u2014I mean, as\nto my craft. It was impossible to be so nimble, so ready, so dexterous\nat these things in a dress so contrary to nature; and I did everything\nclumsily, so I had neither the success nor the easiness of escape that\nI had before, and I resolved to leave it off; but that resolution was\nconfirmed soon after by the following accident.\nAs my governess disguised me like a man, so she joined me with a man, a\nyoung fellow that was nimble enough at his business, and for about\nthree weeks we did very well together. Our principal trade was watching\nshopkeepers\u2019 counters, and slipping off any kind of goods we could see\ncarelessly laid anywhere, and we made several good bargains, as we\ncalled them, at this work. And as we kept always together, so we grew\nvery intimate, yet he never knew that I was not a man, nay, though I\nseveral times went home with him to his lodgings, according as our\nbusiness directed, and four or five times lay with him all night. But\nour design lay another way, and it was absolutely necessary to me to\nconceal my sex from him, as appeared afterwards. The circumstances of\nour living, coming in late, and having such and such business to do as\nrequired that nobody should be trusted with the coming into our\nlodgings, were such as made it impossible to me to refuse lying with\nhim, unless I would have owned my sex; and as it was, I effectually\nconcealed myself. But his ill, and my good fortune, soon put an end to\nthis life, which I must own I was sick of too, on several other\naccounts. We had made several prizes in this new way of business, but\nthe last would be extraordinary. There was a shop in a certain street\nwhich had a warehouse behind it that looked into another street, the\nhouse making the corner of the turning.\nThrough the window of the warehouse we saw, lying on the counter or\nshowboard, which was just before it, five pieces of silks, besides\nother stuffs, and though it was almost dark, yet the people, being busy\nin the fore-shop with customers, had not had time to shut up those\nwindows, or else had forgot it.\nThis the young fellow was so overjoyed with, that he could not restrain\nhimself. It lay all within his reach he said, and he swore violently to\nme that he would have it, if he broke down the house for it. I\ndissuaded him a little, but saw there was no remedy; so he ran rashly\nupon it, slipped out a square of the sash window dexterously enough,\nand without noise, and got out four pieces of the silks, and came with\nthem towards me, but was immediately pursued with a terrible clutter\nand noise. We were standing together indeed, but I had not taken any of\nthe goods out of his hand, when I said to him hastily, \u201cYou are undone,\nfly, for God\u2019s sake!\u201d He ran like lightning, and I too, but the pursuit\nwas hotter after him because he had the goods, than after me. He\ndropped two of the pieces, which stopped them a little, but the crowd\nincreased and pursued us both. They took him soon after with the other\ntwo pieces upon him, and then the rest followed me. I ran for it and\ngot into my governess\u2019s house whither some quick-eyed people followed\nme so warmly as to fix me there. They did not immediately knock, at the\ndoor, by which I got time to throw off my disguise and dress me in my\nown clothes; besides, when they came there, my governess, who had her\ntale ready, kept her door shut, and called out to them and told them\nthere was no man come in there. The people affirmed there did a man\ncome in there, and swore they would break open the door.\nMy governess, not at all surprised, spoke calmly to them, told them\nthey should very freely come and search her house, if they should bring\na constable, and let in none but such as the constable would admit, for\nit was unreasonable to let in a whole crowd. This they could not\nrefuse, though they were a crowd. So a constable was fetched\nimmediately, and she very freely opened the door; the constable kept\nthe door, and the men he appointed searched the house, my governess\ngoing with them from room to room. When she came to my room she called\nto me, and said aloud, \u201cCousin, pray open the door; here\u2019s some\ngentlemen that must come and look into your room.\u201d\nI had a little girl with me, which was my governess\u2019s grandchild, as\nshe called her; and I bade her open the door, and there sat I at work\nwith a great litter of things about me, as if I had been at work all\nday, being myself quite undressed, with only night-clothes on my head,\nand a loose morning-gown wrapped about me. My governess made a kind of\nexcuse for their disturbing me, telling me partly the occasion of it,\nand that she had no remedy but to open the doors to them, and let them\nsatisfy themselves, for all she could say to them would not satisfy\nthem. I sat still, and bid them search the room if they pleased, for if\nthere was anybody in the house, I was sure they were not in my room;\nand as for the rest of the house, I had nothing to say to that, I did\nnot understand what they looked for.\nEverything looked so innocent and so honest about me, that they treated\nme civiller than I expected, but it was not till they had searched the\nroom to a nicety, even under the bed, in the bed, and everywhere else\nwhere it was possible anything could be hid. When they had done this,\nand could find nothing, they asked my pardon for troubling me, and went\ndown.\nWhen they had thus searched the house from bottom to top, and then top\nto bottom, and could find nothing, they appeased the mob pretty well;\nbut they carried my governess before the justice. Two men swore that\nthey saw the man whom they pursued go into her house. My governess\nrattled and made a great noise that her house should be insulted, and\nthat she should be used thus for nothing; that if a man did come in, he\nmight go out again presently for aught she knew, for she was ready to\nmake oath that no man had been within her doors all that day as she\nknew of (and that was very true indeed); that it might be indeed that\nas she was abovestairs, any fellow in a fright might find the door open\nand run in for shelter when he was pursued, but that she knew nothing\nof it; and if it had been so, he certainly went out again, perhaps at\nthe other door, for she had another door into an alley, and so had made\nhis escape and cheated them all.\nThis was indeed probable enough, and the justice satisfied himself with\ngiving her an oath that she had not received or admitted any man into\nher house to conceal him, or protect or hide him from justice. This\noath she might justly take, and did so, and so she was dismissed.\nIt is easy to judge what a fright I was in upon this occasion, and it\nwas impossible for my governess ever to bring me to dress in that\ndisguise again; for, as I told her, I should certainly betray myself.\nMy poor partner in this mischief was now in a bad case, for he was\ncarried away before my Lord Mayor, and by his worship committed to\nNewgate, and the people that took him were so willing, as well as able,\nto prosecute him, that they offered themselves to enter into\nrecognisances to appear at the sessions and pursue the charge against\nhim.\nHowever, he got his indictment deferred, upon promise to discover his\naccomplices, and particularly the man that was concerned with him in\nhis robbery; and he failed not to do his endeavour, for he gave in my\nname, whom he called Gabriel Spencer, which was the name I went by to\nhim; and here appeared the wisdom of my concealing my name and sex from\nhim, which, if he had ever known I had been undone.\nHe did all he could to discover this Gabriel Spencer; he described me,\nhe discovered the place where he said I lodged, and, in a word, all the\nparticulars that he could of my dwelling; but having concealed the main\ncircumstances of my sex from him, I had a vast advantage, and he never\ncould hear of me. He brought two or three families into trouble by his\nendeavouring to find me out, but they knew nothing of me, any more than\nthat I had a fellow with me that they had seen, but knew nothing of.\nAnd as for my governess, though she was the means of his coming to me,\nyet it was done at second-hand, and he knew nothing of her.\nThis turned to his disadvantage; for having promised discoveries, but\nnot being able to make it good, it was looked upon as trifling with the\njustice of the city, and he was the more fiercely pursued by the\nshopkeepers who took him.\nI was, however, terribly uneasy all this while, and that I might be\nquite out of the way, I went away from my governess\u2019s for a while; but\nnot knowing wither to wander, I took a maid-servant with me, and took\nthe stage-coach to Dunstable, to my old landlord and landlady, where I\nhad lived so handsomely with my Lancashire husband. Here I told her a\nformal story, that I expected my husband every day from Ireland, and\nthat I had sent a letter to him that I would meet him at Dunstable at\nher house, and that he would certainly land, if the wind was fair, in a\nfew days, so that I was come to spend a few days with them till he\nshould come, for he was either come post, or in the West Chester coach,\nI knew not which; but whichsoever it was, he would be sure to come to\nthat house to meet me.\nMy landlady was mighty glad to see me, and my landlord made such a stir\nwith me, that if I had been a princess I could not have been better\nused, and here I might have been welcome a month or two if I had\nthought fit.\nBut my business was of another nature. I was very uneasy (though so\nwell disguised that it was scarce possible to detect me) lest this\nfellow should somehow or other find me out; and though he could not\ncharge me with this robbery, having persuaded him not to venture, and\nhaving also done nothing in it myself but run away, yet he might have\ncharged me with other things, and have bought his own life at the\nexpense of mine.\nThis filled me with horrible apprehensions. I had no recourse, no\nfriend, no confidante but my old governess, and I knew no remedy but to\nput my life in her hands, and so I did, for I let her know where to\nsend to me, and had several letters from her while I stayed here. Some\nof them almost scared me out my wits but at last she sent me the joyful\nnews that he was hanged, which was the best news to me that I had heard\na great while.\nI had stayed here five weeks, and lived very comfortably indeed (the\nsecret anxiety of my mind excepted); but when I received this letter I\nlooked pleasantly again, and told my landlady that I had received a\nletter from my spouse in Ireland, that I had the good news of his being\nvery well, but had the bad news that his business would not permit him\nto come away so soon as he expected, and so I was like to go back again\nwithout him.\nMy landlady complimented me upon the good news however, that I had\nheard he was well. \u201cFor I have observed, madam,\u201d says she, \u201cyou hadn\u2019t\nbeen so pleasant as you used to be; you have been over head and ears in\ncare for him, I dare say,\u201d says the good woman; \u201c\u2019tis easy to be seen\nthere\u2019s an alteration in you for the better,\u201d says she. \u201cWell, I am\nsorry the esquire can\u2019t come yet,\u201d says my landlord; \u201cI should have\nbeen heartily glad to have seen him. But I hope, when you have certain\nnews of his coming, you\u2019ll take a step hither again, madam,\u201d says he;\n\u201cyou shall be very welcome whenever you please to come.\u201d\nWith all these fine compliments we parted, and I came merry enough to\nLondon, and found my governess as well pleased as I was. And now she\ntold me she would never recommend any partner to me again, for she\nalways found, she said, that I had the best luck when I ventured by\nmyself. And so indeed I had, for I was seldom in any danger when I was\nby myself, or if I was, I got out of it with more dexterity than when I\nwas entangled with the dull measures of other people, who had perhaps\nless forecast, and were more rash and impatient than I; for though I\nhad as much courage to venture as any of them, yet I used more caution\nbefore I undertook a thing, and had more presence of mind when I was to\nbring myself off.\nI have often wondered even at my own hardiness another way, that when\nall my companions were surprised and fell so suddenly into the hand of\njustice, and that I so narrowly escaped, yet I could not all this while\nenter into one serious resolution to leave off this trade, and\nespecially considering that I was now very far from being poor; that\nthe temptation of necessity, which is generally the introduction of all\nsuch wickedness, was now removed; for I had near \u00a3500 by me in ready\nmoney, on which I might have lived very well, if I had thought fit to\nhave retired; but I say, I had not so much as the least inclination to\nleave off; no, not so much as I had before when I had but \u00a3200\nbeforehand, and when I had no such frightful examples before my eyes as\nthese were. From hence \u2019tis evident to me, that when once we are\nhardened in crime, no fear can affect us, no example give us any\nwarning.\nI had indeed one comrade whose fate went very near me for a good while,\nthough I wore it off too in time. That case was indeed very unhappy. I\nhad made a prize of a piece of very good damask in a mercer\u2019s shop, and\nwent clear off myself, but had conveyed the piece to this companion of\nmine when we went out of the shop, and she went one way and I went\nanother. We had not been long out of the shop but the mercer missed his\npiece of stuff, and sent his messengers, one one way and one another,\nand they presently seized her that had the piece, with the damask upon\nher. As for me, I had very luckily stepped into a house where there was\na lace chamber, up one pair of stairs, and had the satisfaction, or the\nterror indeed, of looking out of the window upon the noise they made,\nand seeing the poor creature dragged away in triumph to the justice,\nwho immediately committed her to Newgate.\nI was careful to attempt nothing in the lace chamber, but tumbled their\ngoods pretty much to spend time; then bought a few yards of edging and\npaid for it, and came away very sad-hearted indeed for the poor woman,\nwho was in tribulation for what I only had stolen.\nHere again my old caution stood me in good stead; namely, that though I\noften robbed with these people, yet I never let them know who I was, or\nwhere I lodged, nor could they ever find out my lodging, though they\noften endeavoured to watch me to it. They all knew me by the name of\nMoll Flanders, though even some of them rather believed I was she than\nknew me to be so. My name was public among them indeed, but how to find\nme out they knew not, nor so much as how to guess at my quarters,\nwhether they were at the east end of the town or the west; and this\nwariness was my safety upon all these occasions.\nI kept close a great while upon the occasion of this woman\u2019s disaster.\nI knew that if I should do anything that should miscarry, and should be\ncarried to prison, she would be there and ready to witness against me,\nand perhaps save her life at my expense. I considered that I began to\nbe very well known by name at the Old Bailey, though they did not know\nmy face, and that if I should fall into their hands, I should be\ntreated as an old offender; and for this reason I was resolved to see\nwhat this poor creature\u2019s fate should be before I stirred abroad,\nthough several times in her distress I conveyed money to her for her\nrelief.\nAt length she came to her trial. She pleaded she did not steal the\nthing, but that one Mrs. Flanders, as she heard her called (for she did\nnot know her), gave the bundle to her after they came out of the shop,\nand bade her carry it home to her lodging. They asked her where this\nMrs. Flanders was, but she could not produce her, neither could she\ngive the least account of me; and the mercer\u2019s men swearing positively\nthat she was in the shop when the goods were stolen, that they\nimmediately missed them, and pursued her, and found them upon her,\nthereupon the jury brought her in guilty; but the Court, considering\nthat she was really not the person that stole the goods, an inferior\nassistant, and that it was very possible she could not find out this\nMrs. Flanders, meaning me, though it would save her life, which indeed\nwas true\u2014I say, considering all this, they allowed her to be\ntransported, which was the utmost favour she could obtain, only that\nthe Court told her that if she could in the meantime produce the said\nMrs. Flanders, they would intercede for her pardon; that is to say, if\nshe could find me out, and hand me, she should not be transported. This\nI took care to make impossible to her, and so she was shipped off in\npursuance of her sentence a little while after.\nI must repeat it again, that the fate of this poor woman troubled me\nexceedingly, and I began to be very pensive, knowing that I was really\nthe instrument of her disaster; but the preservation of my own life,\nwhich was so evidently in danger, took off all my tenderness; and\nseeing that she was not put to death, I was very easy at her\ntransportation, because she was then out of the way of doing me any\nmischief, whatever should happen.\nThe disaster of this woman was some months before that of the\nlast-recited story, and was indeed partly occasion of my governess\nproposing to dress me up in men\u2019s clothes, that I might go about\nunobserved, as indeed I did; but I was soon tired of that disguise, as\nI have said, for indeed it exposed me to too many difficulties.\nI was now easy as to all fear of witnesses against me, for all those\nthat had either been concerned with me, or that knew me by the name of\nMoll Flanders, were either hanged or transported; and if I should have\nhad the misfortune to be taken, I might call myself anything else, as\nwell as Moll Flanders, and no old sins could be placed into my account;\nso I began to run a-tick again with the more freedom, and several\nsuccessful adventures I made, though not such as I had made before.\nWe had at that time another fire happened not a great way off from the\nplace where my governess lived, and I made an attempt there, as before,\nbut as I was not soon enough before the crowd of people came in, and\ncould not get to the house I aimed at, instead of a prize, I got a\nmischief, which had almost put a period to my life and all my wicked\ndoings together; for the fire being very furious, and the people in a\ngreat fright in removing their goods, and throwing them out of window,\na wench from out of a window threw a feather-bed just upon me. It is\ntrue, the bed being soft, it broke no bones; but as the weight was\ngreat, and made greater by the fall, it beat me down, and laid me dead\nfor a while. Nor did the people concern themselves much to deliver me\nfrom it, or to recover me at all; but I lay like one dead and neglected\na good while, till somebody going to remove the bed out of the way,\nhelped me up. It was indeed a wonder the people in the house had not\nthrown other goods out after it, and which might have fallen upon it,\nand then I had been inevitably killed; but I was reserved for further\nafflictions.\nThis accident, however, spoiled my market for that time, and I came\nhome to my governess very much hurt and bruised, and frighted to the\nlast degree, and it was a good while before she could set me upon my\nfeet again.\nIt was now a merry time of the year, and Bartholomew Fair was begun. I\nhad never made any walks that way, nor was the common part of the fair\nof much advantage to me; but I took a turn this year into the\ncloisters, and among the rest I fell into one of the raffling shops. It\nwas a thing of no great consequence to me, nor did I expect to make\nmuch of it; but there came a gentleman extremely well dressed and very\nrich, and as \u2019tis frequent to talk to everybody in those shops, he\nsingled me out, and was very particular with me. First he told me he\nwould put in for me to raffle, and did so; and some small matter coming\nto his lot, he presented it to me (I think it was a feather muff); then\nhe continued to keep talking to me with a more than common appearance\nof respect, but still very civil, and much like a gentleman.\nHe held me in talk so long, till at last he drew me out of the raffling\nplace to the shop-door, and then to a walk in the cloister, still\ntalking of a thousand things cursorily without anything to the purpose.\nAt last he told me that, without compliment, he was charmed with my\ncompany, and asked me if I durst trust myself in a coach with him; he\ntold me he was a man of honour, and would not offer anything to me\nunbecoming him as such. I seemed to decline it a while, but suffered\nmyself to be importuned a little, and then yielded.\nI was at a loss in my thoughts to conclude at first what this gentleman\ndesigned; but I found afterwards he had had some drink in his head, and\nthat he was not very unwilling to have some more. He carried me in the\ncoach to the Spring Garden, at Knightsbridge, where we walked in the\ngardens, and he treated me very handsomely; but I found he drank very\nfreely. He pressed me also to drink, but I declined it.\nHitherto he kept his word with me, and offered me nothing amiss. We\ncame away in the coach again, and he brought me into the streets, and\nby this time it was near ten o\u2019clock at night, and he stopped the coach\nat a house where, it seems, he was acquainted, and where they made no\nscruple to show us upstairs into a room with a bed in it. At first I\nseemed to be unwilling to go up, but after a few words I yielded to\nthat too, being willing to see the end of it, and in hope to make\nsomething of it at last. As for the bed, etc., I was not much concerned\nabout that part.\nHere he began to be a little freer with me than he had promised; and I\nby little and little yielded to everything, so that, in a word, he did\nwhat he pleased with me; I need say no more. All this while he drank\nfreely too, and about one in the morning we went into the coach again.\nThe air and the shaking of the coach made the drink he had get more up\nin his head than it was before, and he grew uneasy in the coach, and\nwas for acting over again what he had been doing before; but as I\nthought my game now secure, I resisted him, and brought him to be a\nlittle still, which had not lasted five minutes but he fell fast\nasleep.\nI took this opportunity to search him to a nicety. I took a gold watch,\nwith a silk purse of gold, his fine full-bottom periwig and\nsilver-fringed gloves, his sword and fine snuff-box, and gently opening\nthe coach door, stood ready to jump out while the coach was going on;\nbut the coach stopped in the narrow street beyond Temple Bar to let\nanother coach pass, I got softly out, fastened the door again, and gave\nmy gentleman and the coach the slip both together, and never heard more\nof them.\nThis was an adventure indeed unlooked for, and perfectly undesigned by\nme; though I was not so past the merry part of life, as to forget how\nto behave, when a fop so blinded by his appetite should not know an old\nwoman from a young. I did not indeed look so old as I was by ten or\ntwelve years; yet I was not a young wench of seventeen, and it was easy\nenough to be distinguished. There is nothing so absurd, so surfeiting,\nso ridiculous, as a man heated by wine in his head, and wicked gust in\nhis inclination together; he is in the possession of two devils at\nonce, and can no more govern himself by his reason than a mill can\ngrind without water; his vice tramples upon all that was in him that\nhad any good in it, if any such thing there was; nay, his very sense is\nblinded by its own rage, and he acts absurdities even in his views;\nsuch a drinking more, when he is drunk already; picking up a common\nwoman, without regard to what she is or who she is, whether sound or\nrotten, clean or unclean, whether ugly or handsome, whether old or\nyoung, and so blinded as not really to distinguish. Such a man is worse\nthan a lunatic; prompted by his vicious, corrupted head, he no more\nknows what he is doing than this wretch of mine knew when I picked his\npocket of his watch and his purse of gold.\nThese are the men of whom Solomon says, \u201cThey go like an ox to the\nslaughter, till a dart strikes through their liver\u201d; an admirable\ndescription, by the way, of the foul disease, which is a poisonous\ndeadly contagion mingling with the blood, whose centre or foundation is\nin the liver; from whence, by the swift circulation of the whole mass,\nthat dreadful nauseous plague strikes immediately through his liver,\nand his spirits are infected, his vitals stabbed through as with a\ndart.\nIt is true this poor unguarded wretch was in no danger from me, though\nI was greatly apprehensive at first of what danger I might be in from\nhim; but he was really to be pitied in one respect, that he seemed to\nbe a good sort of man in himself; a gentleman that had no harm in his\ndesign; a man of sense, and of a fine behaviour, a comely handsome\nperson, a sober solid countenance, a charming beautiful face, and\neverything that could be agreeable; only had unhappily had some drink\nthe night before, had not been in bed, as he told me when we were\ntogether; was hot, and his blood fired with wine, and in that condition\nhis reason, as it were asleep, had given him up.\nAs for me, my business was his money, and what I could make of him; and\nafter that, if I could have found out any way to have done it, I would\nhave sent him safe home to his house and to his family, for \u2019twas ten\nto one but he had an honest, virtuous wife and innocent children, that\nwere anxious for his safety, and would have been glad to have gotten\nhim home, and have taken care of him till he was restored to himself.\nAnd then with what shame and regret would he look back upon himself!\nhow would he reproach himself with associating himself with a whore!\npicked up in the worst of all holes, the cloister, among the dirt and\nfilth of all the town! how would he be trembling for fear he had got\nthe pox, for fear a dart had struck through his liver, and hate himself\nevery time he looked back upon the madness and brutality of his\ndebauch! how would he, if he had any principles of honour, as I verily\nbelieve he had\u2014I say, how would he abhor the thought of giving any ill\ndistemper, if he had it, as for aught he knew he might, to his modest\nand virtuous wife, and thereby sowing the contagion in the life-blood\nof his posterity.\nWould such gentlemen but consider the contemptible thoughts which the\nvery women they are concerned with, in such cases as these, have of\nthem, it would be a surfeit to them. As I said above, they value not\nthe pleasure, they are raised by no inclination to the man, the passive\njade thinks of no pleasure but the money; and when he is, as it were,\ndrunk in the ecstasies of his wicked pleasure, her hands are in his\npockets searching for what she can find there, and of which he can no\nmore be sensible in the moment of his folly that he can forethink of it\nwhen he goes about it.\nI knew a woman that was so dexterous with a fellow, who indeed deserved\nno better usage, that while he was busy with her another way, conveyed\nhis purse with twenty guineas in it out of his fob-pocket, where he had\nput it for fear of her, and put another purse with gilded counters in\nit into the room of it. After he had done, he says to her, \u201cNow han\u2019t\nyou picked my pocket?\u201d She jested with him, and told him she supposed\nhe had not much to lose; he put his hand to his fob, and with his\nfingers felt that his purse was there, which fully satisfied him, and\nso she brought off his money. And this was a trade with her; she kept a\nsham gold watch, that is, a watch of silver gilt, and a purse of\ncounters in her pocket to be ready on all such occasions, and I doubt\nnot practiced it with success.\nI came home with this last booty to my governess, and really when I\ntold her the story, it so affected her that she was hardly able to\nforbear tears, to know how such a gentleman ran a daily risk of being\nundone every time a glass of wine got into his head.\nBut as to the purchase I got, and how entirely I stripped him, she told\nme it pleased her wonderfully. \u201cNay child,\u201d says she, \u201cthe usage may,\nfor aught I know, do more to reform him than all the sermons that ever\nhe will hear in his life.\u201d And if the remainder of the story be true,\nso it did.\nI found the next day she was wonderful inquisitive about this\ngentleman; the description I had given her of him, his dress, his\nperson, his face, everything concurred to make her think of a gentleman\nwhose character she knew, and family too. She mused a while, and I\ngoing still on with the particulars, she starts up; says she, \u201cI\u2019ll lay\n\u00a3100 I know the gentleman.\u201d\n\u201cI am sorry you do,\u201d says I, \u201cfor I would not have him exposed on any\naccount in the world; he has had injury enough already by me, and I\nwould not be instrumental to do him any more.\u201d \u201cNo, no,\u201d says she, \u201cI\nwill do him no injury, I assure you, but you may let me satisfy my\ncuriosity a little, for if it is he, I warrant you I find it out.\u201d I\nwas a little startled at that, and told her, with an apparent concern\nin my face, that by the same rule he might find me out, and then I was\nundone. She returned warmly, \u201cWhy, do you think I will betray you,\nchild? No, no,\u201d says she, \u201cnot for all he is worth in the world. I have\nkept your counsel in worse things than these; sure you may trust me in\nthis.\u201d So I said no more at that time.\nShe laid her scheme another way, and without acquainting me of it, but\nshe was resolved to find it out if possible. So she goes to a certain\nfriend of hers who was acquainted in the family that she guessed at,\nand told her friend she had some extraordinary business with such a\ngentleman (who, by the way, was no less than a baronet, and of a very\ngood family), and that she knew not how to come at him without somebody\nto introduce her. Her friend promised her very readily to do it, and\naccordingly goes to the house to see if the gentleman was in town.\nThe next day she come to my governess and tells her that Sir \u2014\u2014 was at\nhome, but that he had met with a disaster and was very ill, and there\nwas no speaking with him. \u201cWhat disaster?\u201d says my governess hastily,\nas if she was surprised at it. \u201cWhy,\u201d says her friend, \u201che had been at\nHampstead to visit a gentleman of his acquaintance, and as he came back\nagain he was set upon and robbed; and having got a little drink too, as\nthey suppose, the rogues abused him, and he is very ill.\u201d \u201cRobbed!\u201d\nsays my governess, \u201cand what did they take from him?\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d says her\nfriend, \u201cthey took his gold watch and his gold snuff-box, his fine\nperiwig, and what money he had in his pocket, which was considerable,\nto be sure, for Sir \u2014\u2014 never goes without a purse of guineas about\nhim.\u201d\n\u201cPshaw!\u201d says my old governess, jeering, \u201cI warrant you he has got\ndrunk now and got a whore, and she has picked his pocket, and so he\ncomes home to his wife and tells her he has been robbed. That\u2019s an old\nsham; a thousand such tricks are put upon the poor women every day.\u201d\n\u201cFie!\u201d says her friend, \u201cI find you don\u2019t know Sir \u2014\u2014; why he is as\ncivil a gentleman, there is not a finer man, nor a soberer, graver,\nmodester person in the whole city; he abhors such things; there\u2019s\nnobody that knows him will think such a thing of him.\u201d \u201cWell, well,\u201d\nsays my governess, \u201cthat\u2019s none of my business; if it was, I warrant I\nshould find there was something of that kind in it; your modest men in\ncommon opinion are sometimes no better than other people, only they\nkeep a better character, or, if you please, are the better hypocrites.\u201d\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d says her friend, \u201cI can assure you Sir \u2014\u2014 is no hypocrite, he\nis really an honest, sober gentleman, and he has certainly been\nrobbed.\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d says my governess, \u201cit may be he has; it is no business\nof mine, I tell you; I only want to speak with him; my business is of\nanother nature.\u201d \u201cBut,\u201d says her friend, \u201clet your business be of what\nnature it will, you cannot see him yet, for he is not fit to be seen,\nfor he is very ill, and bruised very much.\u201d \u201cAy,\u201d says my governess,\n\u201cnay, then he has fallen into bad hands, to be sure.\u201d And then she\nasked gravely, \u201cPray, where is he bruised?\u201d \u201cWhy, in the head,\u201d says\nher friend, \u201cand one of his hands, and his face, for they used him\nbarbarously.\u201d \u201cPoor gentleman,\u201d says my governess, \u201cI must wait, then,\ntill he recovers\u201d; and adds, \u201cI hope it will not be long, for I want\nvery much to speak with him.\u201d\nAway she comes to me and tells me this story. \u201cI have found out your\nfine gentleman, and a fine gentleman he was,\u201d says she; \u201cbut, mercy on\nhim, he is in a sad pickle now. I wonder what the d\u2014l you have done to\nhim; why, you have almost killed him.\u201d I looked at her with disorder\nenough. \u201cI killed him!\u201d says I; \u201cyou must mistake the person; I am sure\nI did nothing to him; he was very well when I left him,\u201d said I, \u201conly\ndrunk and fast asleep.\u201d \u201cI know nothing of that,\u201d says she, \u201cbut he is\nin a sad pickle now\u201d; and so she told me all that her friend had said\nto her. \u201cWell, then,\u201d says I, \u201che fell into bad hands after I left him,\nfor I am sure I left him safe enough.\u201d\nAbout ten days after, or a little more, my governess goes again to her\nfriend, to introduce her to this gentleman; she had inquired other ways\nin the meantime, and found that he was about again, if not abroad\nagain, so she got leave to speak with him.\nShe was a woman of a admirable address, and wanted nobody to introduce\nher; she told her tale much better than I shall be able to tell it for\nher, for she was a mistress of her tongue, as I have said already. She\ntold him that she came, though a stranger, with a single design of\ndoing him a service and he should find she had no other end in it; that\nas she came purely on so friendly an account, she begged promise from\nhim, that if he did not accept what she should officiously propose he\nwould not take it ill that she meddled with what was not her business.\nShe assured him that as what she had to say was a secret that belonged\nto him only, so whether he accepted her offer or not, it should remain\na secret to all the world, unless he exposed it himself; nor should his\nrefusing her service in it make her so little show her respect as to do\nhim the least injury, so that he should be entirely at liberty to act\nas he thought fit.\nHe looked very shy at first, and said he knew nothing that related to\nhim that required much secrecy; that he had never done any man any\nwrong, and cared not what anybody might say of him; that it was no part\nof his character to be unjust to anybody, nor could he imagine in what\nany man could render him any service; but that if it was so\ndisinterested a service as she said, he could not take it ill from any\none that they should endeavour to serve him; and so, as it were, left\nher a liberty either to tell him or not to tell, as she thought fit.\nShe found him so perfectly indifferent, that she was almost afraid to\nenter into the point with him; but, however, after some other\ncircumlocutions she told him that by a strange and unaccountable\naccident she came to have a particular knowledge of the late unhappy\nadventure he had fallen into, and that in such a manner, that there was\nnobody in the world but herself and him that were acquainted with it,\nno, not the very person that was with him.\nHe looked a little angrily at first. \u201cWhat adventure?\u201d said he. \u201cWhy,\u201d\nsaid she, \u201cof your being robbed coming from Knightbr\u2014\u2014; Hampstead, sir,\nI should say,\u201d says she. \u201cBe not surprised, sir,\u201d says she, \u201cthat I am\nable to tell you every step you took that day from the cloister in\nSmithfield to the Spring Garden at Knightsbridge, and thence to the \u2014\u2014\nin the Strand, and how you were left asleep in the coach afterwards. I\nsay, let not this surprise you, for, sir, I do not come to make a booty\nof you, I ask nothing of you, and I assure you the woman that was with\nyou knows nothing who you are, and never shall; and yet perhaps I may\nserve you further still, for I did not come barely to let you know that\nI was informed of these things, as if I wanted a bribe to conceal them;\nassure yourself, sir,\u201d said she, \u201cthat whatever you think fit to do or\nsay to me, it shall be all a secret as it is, as much as if I were in\nmy grave.\u201d\nHe was astonished at her discourse, and said gravely to her, \u201cMadam,\nyou are a stranger to me, but it is very unfortunate that you should be\nlet into the secret of the worst action of my life, and a thing that I\nam so justly ashamed of, that the only satisfaction of it to me was,\nthat I thought it was known only to God and my own conscience.\u201d \u201cPray,\nsir,\u201d says she, \u201cdo not reckon the discovery of it to me to be any part\nof your misfortune. It was a thing, I believe, you were surprised into,\nand perhaps the woman used some art to prompt you to it; however, you\nwill never find any just cause,\u201d said she, \u201cto repent that I came to\nhear of it; nor can your own mouth be more silent in it that I have\nbeen, and ever shall be.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cbut let me do some justice to the woman too; whoever\nshe is, I do assure you she prompted me to nothing, she rather declined\nme. It was my own folly and madness that brought me into it all, ay,\nand brought her into it too; I must give her her due so far. As to what\nshe took from me, I could expect no less from her in the condition I\nwas in, and to this hour I know not whether she robbed me or the\ncoachman; if she did it, I forgive her, and I think all gentlemen that\ndo so should be used in the same manner; but I am more concerned for\nsome other things that I am for all that she took from me.\u201d\nMy governess now began to come into the whole matter, and he opened\nhimself freely to her. First she said to him, in answer to what he had\nsaid about me, \u201cI am glad, sir, you are so just to the person that you\nwere with; I assure you she is a gentlewoman, and no woman of the town;\nand however you prevailed with her so far as you did, I am sure \u2019tis\nnot her practice. You ran a great venture indeed, sir; but if that be\nany part of your care, I am persuaded you may be perfectly easy, for I\ndare assure you no man has touched her, before you, since her husband,\nand he has been dead now almost eight years.\u201d\nIt appeared that this was his grievance, and that he was in a very\ngreat fright about it; however, when my governess said this to him, he\nappeared very well pleased, and said, \u201cWell, madam, to be plain with\nyou, if I was satisfied of that, I should not so much value what I\nlost; for, as to that, the temptation was great, and perhaps she was\npoor and wanted it.\u201d \u201cIf she had not been poor, sir \u2014\u2014,\u201d says my\ngoverness, \u201cI assure you she would never have yielded to you; and as\nher poverty first prevailed with her to let you do as you did, so the\nsame poverty prevailed with her to pay herself at last, when she saw\nyou were in such a condition, that if she had not done it, perhaps the\nnext coachman might have done it.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cmuch good may it do her. I say again, all the\ngentlemen that do so ought to be used in the same manner, and then they\nwould be cautious of themselves. I have no more concern about it, but\non the score which you hinted at before, madam.\u201d Here he entered into\nsome freedoms with her on the subject of what passed between us, which\nare not so proper for a woman to write, and the great terror that was\nupon his mind with relation to his wife, for fear he should have\nreceived any injury from me, and should communicate it farther; and\nasked her at last if she could not procure him an opportunity to speak\nwith me. My governess gave him further assurances of my being a woman\nclear from any such thing, and that he was as entirely safe in that\nrespect as he was with his own lady; but as for seeing me, she said it\nmight be of dangerous consequence; but, however, that she would talk\nwith me, and let him know my answer, using at the same time some\narguments to persuade him not to desire it, and that it could be of no\nservice to him, seeing she hoped he had no desire to renew a\ncorrespondence with me, and that on my account it was a kind of putting\nmy life in his hands.\nHe told her he had a great desire to see me, that he would give her any\nassurances that were in his power, not to take any advantages of me,\nand that in the first place he would give me a general release from all\ndemands of any kind. She insisted how it might tend to a further\ndivulging the secret, and might in the end be injurious to him,\nentreating him not to press for it; so at length he desisted.\nThey had some discourse upon the subject of the things he had lost, and\nhe seemed to be very desirous of his gold watch, and told her if she\ncould procure that for him, he would willingly give as much for it as\nit was worth. She told him she would endeavour to procure it for him,\nand leave the valuing it to himself.\nAccordingly the next day she carried the watch, and he gave her thirty\nguineas for it, which was more than I should have been able to make of\nit, though it seems it cost much more. He spoke something of his\nperiwig, which it seems cost him threescore guineas, and his snuff-box,\nand in a few days more she carried them too; which obliged him very\nmuch, and he gave her thirty more. The next day I sent him his fine\nsword and cane gratis, and demanded nothing of him, but I had no mind\nto see him, unless it had been so that he might be satisfied I knew who\nhe was, which he was not willing to.\nThen he entered into a long talk with her of the manner how she came to\nknow all this matter. She formed a long tale of that part; how she had\nit from one that I had told the whole story to, and that was to help me\ndispose of the goods; and this confidante brought the things to her,\nshe being by profession a pawnbroker; and she hearing of his worship\u2019s\ndisaster, guessed at the thing in general; that having gotten the\nthings into her hands, she had resolved to come and try as she had\ndone. She then gave him repeated assurances that it should never go out\nof her mouth, and though she knew the woman very well, yet she had not\nlet her know, meaning me, anything of it; that is to say, who the\nperson was, which, by the way, was false; but, however, it was not to\nhis damage, for I never opened my mouth of it to anybody.\nI had a great many thoughts in my head about my seeing him again, and\nwas often sorry that I had refused it. I was persuaded that if I had\nseen him, and let him know that I knew him, I should have made some\nadvantage of him, and perhaps have had some maintenance from him; and\nthough it was a life wicked enough, yet it was not so full of danger as\nthis I was engaged in. However, those thoughts wore off, and I declined\nseeing him again, for that time; but my governess saw him often, and he\nwas very kind to her, giving her something almost every time he saw\nher. One time in particular she found him very merry, and as she\nthought he had some wine in his head, and he pressed her again very\nearnestly to let him see that woman that, as he said, had bewitched him\nso that night, my governess, who was from the beginning for my seeing\nhim, told him he was so desirous of it that she could almost yield of\nit, if she could prevail upon me; adding that if he would please to\ncome to her house in the evening, she would endeavour it, upon his\nrepeated assurances of forgetting what was past.\nAccordingly she came to me, and told me all the discourse; in short,\nshe soon biassed me to consent, in a case which I had some regret in my\nmind for declining before; so I prepared to see him. I dressed me to\nall the advantage possible, I assure you, and for the first time used a\nlittle art; I say for the first time, for I had never yielded to the\nbaseness of paint before, having always had vanity enough to believe I\nhad no need of it.\nAt the hour appointed he came; and as she observed before, so it was\nplain still, that he had been drinking, though very far from what we\ncall being in drink. He appeared exceeding pleased to see me, and\nentered into a long discourse with me upon the old affair. I begged his\npardon very often for my share of it, protested I had not any such\ndesign when first I met him, that I had not gone out with him but that\nI took him for a very civil gentleman, and that he made me so many\npromises of offering no uncivility to me.\nHe alleged the wine he drank, and that he scarce knew what he did, and\nthat if it had not been so, I should never have let him take the\nfreedom with me that he had done. He protested to me that he never\ntouched any woman but me since he was married to his wife, and it was a\nsurprise upon him; complimented me upon being so particularly agreeable\nto him, and the like; and talked so much of that kind, till I found he\nhad talked himself almost into a temper to do the same thing over\nagain. But I took him up short. I protested I had never suffered any\nman to touch me since my husband died, which was near eight years. He\nsaid he believed it to be so truly; and added that madam had intimated\nas much to him, and that it was his opinion of that part which made his\ndesire to see me again; and that since he had once broke in upon his\nvirtue with me, and found no ill consequences, he could be safe in\nventuring there again; and so, in short, it went on to what I expected,\nand to what will not bear relating.\nMy old governess had foreseen it, as well as I, and therefore led him\ninto a room which had not a bed in it, and yet had a chamber within it\nwhich had a bed, whither we withdrew for the rest of the night; and, in\nshort, after some time being together, he went to bed, and lay there\nall night. I withdrew, but came again undressed in the morning, before\nit was day, and lay with him the rest of the time.\nThus, you see, having committed a crime once is a sad handle to the\ncommitting of it again; whereas all the regret and reflections wear off\nwhen the temptation renews itself. Had I not yielded to see him again,\nthe corrupt desire in him had worn off, and \u2019tis very probable he had\nnever fallen into it with anybody else, as I really believe he had not\ndone before.\nWhen he went away, I told him I hoped he was satisfied he had not been\nrobbed again. He told me he was satisfied in that point, and could\ntrust me again, and putting his hand in his pocket, gave me five\nguineas, which was the first money I had gained that way for many\nyears.\nI had several visits of the like kind from him, but he never came into\na settled way of maintenance, which was what I would have best pleased\nwith. Once, indeed, he asked me how I did to live. I answered him\npretty quick, that I assured him I had never taken that course that I\ntook with him, but that indeed I worked at my needle, and could just\nmaintain myself; that sometime it was as much as I was able to do, and\nI shifted hard enough.\nHe seemed to reflect upon himself that he should be the first person to\nlead me into that, which he assured me he never intended to do himself;\nand it touched him a little, he said, that he should be the cause of\nhis own sin and mine too. He would often make just reflections also\nupon the crime itself, and upon the particular circumstances of it with\nrespect to himself; how wine introduced the inclinations, how the devil\nled him to the place, and found out an object to tempt him, and he made\nthe moral always himself.\nWhen these thoughts were upon him he would go away, and perhaps not\ncome again in a month\u2019s time or longer; but then as the serious part\nwore off, the lewd part would wear in, and then he came prepared for\nthe wicked part. Thus we lived for some time; though he did not keep,\nas they call it, yet he never failed doing things that were handsome,\nand sufficient to maintain me without working, and, which was better,\nwithout following my old trade.\nBut this affair had its end too; for after about a year, I found that\nhe did not come so often as usual, and at last he left if off\naltogether without any dislike to bidding adieu; and so there was an\nend of that short scene of life, which added no great store to me, only\nto make more work for repentance.\nHowever, during this interval I confined myself pretty much at home; at\nleast, being thus provided for, I made no adventures, no, not for a\nquarter of a year after he left me; but then finding the fund fail, and\nbeing loth to spend upon the main stock, I began to think of my old\ntrade, and to look abroad into the street again; and my first step was\nlucky enough.\nI had dressed myself up in a very mean habit, for as I had several\nshapes to appear in, I was now in an ordinary stuff-gown, a blue apron,\nand a straw hat and I placed myself at the door of the Three Cups Inn\nin St. John Street. There were several carriers used the inn, and the\nstage-coaches for Barnet, for Totteridge, and other towns that way\nstood always in the street in the evening, when they prepared to set\nout, so that I was ready for anything that offered, for either one or\nother. The meaning was this; people come frequently with bundles and\nsmall parcels to those inns, and call for such carriers or coaches as\nthey want, to carry them into the country; and there generally attend\nwomen, porters\u2019 wives or daughters, ready to take in such things for\ntheir respective people that employ them.\nIt happened very oddly that I was standing at the inn gate, and a woman\nthat had stood there before, and which was the porter\u2019s wife belonging\nto the Barnet stage-coach, having observed me, asked if I waited for\nany of the coaches. I told her Yes, I waited for my mistress, that was\ncoming to go to Barnet. She asked me who was my mistress, and I told\nher any madam\u2019s name that came next me; but as it seemed, I happened\nupon a name, a family of which name lived at Hadley, just beyond\nBarnet.\nI said no more to her, or she to me, a good while; but by and by,\nsomebody calling her at a door a little way off, she desired me that if\nanybody called for the Barnet coach, I would step and call her at the\nhouse, which it seems was an alehouse. I said Yes, very readily, and\naway she went.\nShe was no sooner gone but comes a wench and a child, puffing and\nsweating, and asks for the Barnet coach. I answered presently, \u201cHere.\u201d\n\u201cDo you belong to the Barnet coach?\u201d says she. \u201cYes, sweetheart,\u201d said\nI; \u201cwhat do ye want?\u201d \u201cI want room for two passengers,\u201d says she.\n\u201cWhere are they, sweetheart?\u201d said I. \u201cHere\u2019s this girl, pray let her\ngo into the coach,\u201d says she, \u201cand I\u2019ll go and fetch my mistress.\u201d\n\u201cMake haste, then, sweetheart,\u201d says I, \u201cfor we may be full else.\u201d The\nmaid had a great bundle under her arm; so she put the child into the\ncoach, and I said, \u201cYou had best put your bundle into the coach too.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d says she, \u201cI am afraid somebody should slip it away from the\nchild.\u201d \u201cGive to me, then,\u201d said I, \u201cand I\u2019ll take care of it.\u201d \u201cDo,\nthen,\u201d says she, \u201cand be sure you take of it.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll answer for it,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cif it were for \u00a320 value.\u201d \u201cThere, take it, then,\u201d says she,\nand away she goes.\nAs soon as I had got the bundle, and the maid was out of sight, I goes\non towards the alehouse, where the porter\u2019s wife was, so that if I had\nmet her, I had then only been going to give her the bundle, and to call\nher to her business, as if I was going away, and could stay no longer;\nbut as I did not meet her, I walked away, and turning into Charterhouse\nLane, then crossed into Bartholomew Close, so into Little Britain, and\nthrough the Bluecoat Hospital, into Newgate Street.\nTo prevent my being known, I pulled off my blue apron, and wrapped the\nbundle in it, which before was made up in a piece of painted calico,\nand very remarkable; I also wrapped up my straw hat in it, and so put\nthe bundle upon my head; and it was very well that I did thus, for\ncoming through the Bluecoat Hospital, who should I meet but the wench\nthat had given me the bundle to hold. It seems she was going with her\nmistress, whom she had been gone to fetch, to the Barnet coaches.\nI saw she was in haste, and I had no business to stop her; so away she\nwent, and I brought my bundle safe home to my governess. There was no\nmoney, nor plate, or jewels in the bundle, but a very good suit of\nIndian damask, a gown and a petticoat, a laced-head and ruffles of very\ngood Flanders lace, and some linen and other things, such as I knew\nvery well the value of.\nThis was not indeed my own invention, but was given me by one that had\npractised it with success, and my governess liked it extremely; and\nindeed I tried it again several times, though never twice near the same\nplace; for the next time I tried it in White Chapel, just by the corner\nof Petticoat Lane, where the coaches stand that go out to Stratford and\nBow, and that side of the country, and another time at the Flying\nHorse, without Bishopgate, where the Cheston coaches then lay; and I\nhad always the good luck to come off with some booty.\nAnother time I placed myself at a warehouse by the waterside, where the\ncoasting vessels from the north come, such as from Newcastle-upon-Tyne,\nSunderland, and other places. Here, the warehouses being shut, comes a\nyoung fellow with a letter; and he wanted a box and a hamper that was\ncome from Newcastle-upon-Tyne. I asked him if he had the marks of it;\nso he shows me the letter, by virtue of which he was to ask for it, and\nwhich gave an account of the contents, the box being full of linen, and\nthe hamper full of glass ware. I read the letter, and took care to see\nthe name, and the marks, the name of the person that sent the goods,\nthe name of the person that they were sent to; then I bade the\nmessenger come in the morning, for that the warehouse-keeper would not\nbe there any more that night.\nAway went I, and getting materials in a public house, I wrote a letter\nfrom Mr. John Richardson of Newcastle to his dear cousin Jemmy Cole, in\nLondon, with an account that he sent by such a vessel (for I remembered\nall the particulars to a title), so many pieces of huckaback linen, so\nmany ells of Dutch holland and the like, in a box, and a hamper of\nflint glasses from Mr. Henzill\u2019s glasshouse; and that the box was\nmarked I. C. No. 1, and the hamper was directed by a label on the\ncording.\nAbout an hour after, I came to the warehouse, found the\nwarehouse-keeper, and had the goods delivered me without any scruple;\nthe value of the linen being about \u00a322.\nI could fill up this whole discourse with the variety of such\nadventures, which daily invention directed to, and which I managed with\nthe utmost dexterity, and always with success.\nAt length\u2014as when does the pitcher come safe home that goes so very\noften to the well?\u2014I fell into some small broils, which though they\ncould not affect me fatally, yet made me known, which was the worst\nthing next to being found guilty that could befall me.\nI had taken up the disguise of a widow\u2019s dress; it was without any real\ndesign in view, but only waiting for anything that might offer, as I\noften did. It happened that while I was going along the street in\nCovent Garden, there was a great cry of \u201cStop thief! Stop thief!\u201d some\nartists had, it seems, put a trick upon a shopkeeper, and being\npursued, some of them fled one way, and some another; and one of them\nwas, they said, dressed up in widow\u2019s weeds, upon which the mob\ngathered about me, and some said I was the person, others said no.\nImmediately came the mercer\u2019s journeyman, and he swore aloud I was the\nperson, and so seized on me. However, when I was brought back by the\nmob to the mercer\u2019s shop, the master of the house said freely that I\nwas not the woman that was in his shop, and would have let me go\nimmediately; but another fellow said gravely, \u201cPray stay till Mr. \u2014\u2014\u201d\n(meaning the journeyman) \u201ccomes back, for he knows her.\u201d So they kept\nme by force near half an hour. They had called a constable, and he\nstood in the shop as my jailer; and in talking with the constable I\ninquired where he lived, and what trade he was; the man not\napprehending in the least what happened afterwards, readily told me his\nname, and trade, and where he lived; and told me as a jest, that I\nmight be sure to hear of his name when I came to the Old Bailey.\nSome of the servants likewise used me saucily, and had much ado to keep\ntheir hands off me; the master indeed was civiller to me than they, but\nhe would not yet let me go, though he owned he could not say I was in\nhis shop before.\nI began to be a little surly with him, and told him I hoped he would\nnot take it ill if I made myself amends upon him in a more legal way\nanother time; and desired I might send for friends to see me have right\ndone me. No, he said, he could give no such liberty; I might ask it\nwhen I came before the justice of peace; and seeing I threatened him,\nhe would take care of me in the meantime, and would lodge me safe in\nNewgate. I told him it was his time now, but it would be mine by and\nby, and governed my passion as well as I was able. However, I spoke to\nthe constable to call me a porter, which he did, and then I called for\npen, ink, and paper, but they would let me have none. I asked the\nporter his name, and where he lived, and the poor man told it me very\nwillingly. I bade him observe and remember how I was treated there;\nthat he saw I was detained there by force. I told him I should want his\nevidence in another place, and it should not be the worse for him to\nspeak. The porter said he would serve me with all his heart. \u201cBut,\nmadam,\u201d says he, \u201clet me hear them refuse to let you go, then I may be\nable to speak the plainer.\u201d\nWith that I spoke aloud to the master of the shop, and said, \u201cSir, you\nknow in your own conscience that I am not the person you look for, and\nthat I was not in your shop before, therefore I demand that you detain\nme here no longer, or tell me the reason of your stopping me.\u201d The\nfellow grew surlier upon this than before, and said he would do neither\ntill he thought fit. \u201cVery well,\u201d said I to the constable and to the\nporter; \u201cyou will be pleased to remember this, gentlemen, another\ntime.\u201d The porter said, \u201cYes, madam\u201d; and the constable began not to\nlike it, and would have persuaded the mercer to dismiss him, and let me\ngo, since, as he said, he owned I was not the person. \u201cGood, sir,\u201d says\nthe mercer to him tauntingly, \u201care you a justice of peace or a\nconstable? I charged you with her; pray do you do your duty.\u201d The\nconstable told him, a little moved, but very handsomely, \u201cI know my\nduty, and what I am, sir; I doubt you hardly know what you are doing.\u201d\nThey had some other hard words, and in the meantime the journeyman,\nimpudent and unmanly to the last degree, used me barbarously, and one\nof them, the same that first seized upon me, pretended he would search\nme, and began to lay hands on me. I spit in his face, called out to the\nconstable, and bade him to take notice of my usage. \u201cAnd pray, Mr.\nConstable,\u201d said I, \u201cask that villain\u2019s name,\u201d pointing to the man. The\nconstable reproved him decently, told him that he did not know what he\ndid, for he knew that his master acknowledged I was not the person that\nwas in his shop; \u201cand,\u201d says the constable, \u201cI am afraid your master is\nbringing himself, and me too, into trouble, if this gentlewoman comes\nto prove who she is, and where she was, and it appears that she is not\nthe woman you pretend to.\u201d \u201cDamn her,\u201d says the fellow again, with a\nimpudent, hardened face, \u201cshe is the lady, you may depend upon it; I\u2019ll\nswear she is the same body that was in the shop, and that I gave the\npieces of satin that is lost into her own hand. You shall hear more of\nit when Mr. William and Mr. Anthony (those were other journeymen) come\nback; they will know her again as well as I.\u201d\nJust as the insolent rogue was talking thus to the constable, comes\nback Mr. William and Mr. Anthony, as he called them, and a great rabble\nwith them, bringing along with them the true widow that I was pretended\nto be; and they came sweating and blowing into the shop, and with a\ngreat deal of triumph, dragging the poor creature in the most butcherly\nmanner up towards their master, who was in the back shop, and cried out\naloud, \u201cHere\u2019s the widow, sir; we have catched her at last.\u201d \u201cWhat do\nye mean by that?\u201d says the master. \u201cWhy, we have her already; there she\nsits,\u201d says he, \u201cand Mr. \u2014\u2014,\u201d says he, \u201ccan swear this is she.\u201d The\nother man, whom they called Mr. Anthony, replied, \u201cMr. \u2014\u2014 may say what\nhe will, and swear what he will, but this is the woman, and there\u2019s the\nremnant of satin she stole; I took it out of her clothes with my own\nhand.\u201d\nI sat still now, and began to take a better heart, but smiled and said\nnothing; the master looked pale; the constable turned about and looked\nat me. \u201cLet \u2019em alone, Mr. Constable,\u201d said I; \u201clet \u201cem go on.\u201d The\ncase was plain and could not be denied, so the constable was charged\nwith the right thief, and the mercer told me very civilly he was sorry\nfor the mistake, and hoped I would not take it ill; that they had so\nmany things of this nature put upon them every day, that they could not\nbe blamed for being very sharp in doing themselves justice. \u201cNot take\nit ill, sir!\u201d said I; \u201chow can I take it well! If you had dismissed me\nwhen your insolent fellow seized on me it the street, and brought me to\nyou, and when you yourself acknowledged I was not the person, I would\nhave put it by, and not taken it ill, because of the many ill things I\nbelieve you have put upon you daily; but your treatment of me since has\nbeen insufferable, and especially that of your servant; I must and will\nhave reparation for that.\u201d\nThen he began to parley with me, said he would make me any reasonable\nsatisfaction, and would fain have had me tell him what it was I\nexpected. I told him that I should not be my own judge, the law should\ndecide it for me; and as I was to be carried before a magistrate, I\nshould let him hear there what I had to say. He told me there was no\noccasion to go before the justice now, I was at liberty to go where I\npleased; and so, calling to the constable, told him he might let me go,\nfor I was discharged. The constable said calmly to him, \u201csir, you asked\nme just now if I knew whether I was a constable or justice, and bade me\ndo my duty, and charged me with this gentlewoman as a prisoner. Now,\nsir, I find you do not understand what is my duty, for you would make\nme a justice indeed; but I must tell you it is not in my power. I may\nkeep a prisoner when I am charged with him, but \u2019tis the law and the\nmagistrate alone that can discharge that prisoner; therefore \u2019tis a\nmistake, sir; I must carry her before a justice now, whether you think\nwell of it or not.\u201d The mercer was very high with the constable at\nfirst; but the constable happening to be not a hired officer, but a\ngood, substantial kind of man (I think he was a corn-handler), and a\nman of good sense, stood to his business, would not discharge me\nwithout going to a justice of the peace; and I insisted upon it too.\nWhen the mercer saw that, \u201cWell,\u201d says he to the constable, \u201cyou may\ncarry her where you please; I have nothing to say to her.\u201d \u201cBut, sir,\u201d\nsays the constable, \u201cyou will go with us, I hope, for \u2019tis you that\ncharged me with her.\u201d \u201cNo, not I,\u201d says the mercer; \u201cI tell you I have\nnothing to say to her.\u201d \u201cBut pray, sir, do,\u201d says the constable; \u201cI\ndesire it of you for your own sake, for the justice can do nothing\nwithout you.\u201d \u201cPrithee, fellow,\u201d says the mercer, \u201cgo about your\nbusiness; I tell you I have nothing to say to the gentlewoman. I charge\nyou in the king\u2019s name to dismiss her.\u201d \u201cSir,\u201d says the constable, \u201cI\nfind you don\u2019t know what it is to be constable; I beg of you don\u2019t\noblige me to be rude to you.\u201d \u201cI think I need not; you are rude enough\nalready,\u201d says the mercer. \u201cNo, sir,\u201d says the constable, \u201cI am not\nrude; you have broken the peace in bringing an honest woman out of the\nstreet, when she was about her lawful occasion, confining her in your\nshop, and ill-using her here by your servants; and now can you say I am\nrude to you? I think I am civil to you in not commanding or charging\nyou in the king\u2019s name to go with me, and charging every man I see that\npasses your door to aid and assist me in carrying you by force; this\nyou cannot but know I have power to do, and yet I forbear it, and once\nmore entreat you to go with me.\u201d Well, he would not for all this, and\ngave the constable ill language. However, the constable kept his\ntemper, and would not be provoked; and then I put in and said, \u201cCome,\nMr. Constable, let him alone; I shall find ways enough to fetch him\nbefore a magistrate, I don\u2019t fear that; but there\u2019s the fellow,\u201d says\nI, \u201che was the man that seized on me as I was innocently going along\nthe street, and you are a witness of the violence with me since; give\nme leave to charge you with him, and carry him before the justice.\u201d\n\u201cYes, madam,\u201d says the constable; and turning to the fellow \u201cCome,\nyoung gentleman,\u201d says he to the journeyman, \u201cyou must go along with\nus; I hope you are not above the constable\u2019s power, though your master\nis.\u201d\nThe fellow looked like a condemned thief, and hung back, then looked at\nhis master, as if he could help him; and he, like a fool, encourage the\nfellow to be rude, and he truly resisted the constable, and pushed him\nback with a good force when he went to lay hold on him, at which the\nconstable knocked him down, and called out for help; and immediately\nthe shop was filled with people, and the constable seized the master\nand man, and all his servants.\nThis first ill consequence of this fray was, that the woman they had\ntaken, who was really the thief, made off, and got clear away in the\ncrowd; and two other that they had stopped also; whether they were\nreally guilty or not, that I can say nothing to.\nBy this time some of his neighbours having come in, and, upon inquiry,\nseeing how things went, had endeavoured to bring the hot-brained mercer\nto his senses, and he began to be convinced that he was in the wrong;\nand so at length we went all very quietly before the justice, with a\nmob of about five hundred people at our heels; and all the way I went I\ncould hear the people ask what was the matter, and other reply and say,\na mercer had stopped a gentlewoman instead of a thief, and had\nafterwards taken the thief, and now the gentlewoman had taken the\nmercer, and was carrying him before the justice. This pleased the\npeople strangely, and made the crowd increase, and they cried out as\nthey went, \u201cWhich is the rogue? which is the mercer?\u201d and especially\nthe women. Then when they saw him they cried out, \u201cThat\u2019s he, that\u2019s\nhe\u201d; and every now and then came a good dab of dirt at him; and thus we\nmarched a good while, till the mercer thought fit to desire the\nconstable to call a coach to protect himself from the rabble; so we\nrode the rest of the way, the constable and I, and the mercer and his\nman.\nWhen we came to the justice, which was an ancient gentleman in\nBloomsbury, the constable giving first a summary account of the matter,\nthe justice bade me speak, and tell what I had to say. And first he\nasked my name, which I was very loth to give, but there was no remedy,\nso I told him my name was Mary Flanders, that I was a widow, my husband\nbeing a sea captain, died on a voyage to Virginia; and some other\ncircumstances I told which he could never contradict, and that I lodged\nat present in town with such a person, naming my governess; but that I\nwas preparing to go over to America, where my husband\u2019s effects lay,\nand that I was going that day to buy some clothes to put myself into\nsecond mourning, but had not yet been in any shop, when that fellow,\npointing to the mercer\u2019s journeyman, came rushing upon me with such\nfury as very much frighted me, and carried me back to his master\u2019s\nshop, where, though his master acknowledged I was not the person, yet\nhe would not dismiss me, but charged a constable with me.\nThen I proceeded to tell how the journeyman treated me; how they would\nnot suffer me to send for any of my friends; how afterwards they found\nthe real thief, and took the very goods they had lost upon her, and all\nthe particulars as before.\nThen the constable related his case: his dialogue with the mercer about\ndischarging me, and at last his servant\u2019s refusing to go with him, when\nhe had charged him with him, and his master encouraging him to do so,\nand at last his striking the constable, and the like, all as I have\ntold it already.\nThe justice then heard the mercer and his man. The mercer indeed made a\nlong harangue of the great loss they have daily by lifters and thieves;\nthat it was easy for them to mistake, and that when he found it he\nwould have dismissed me, etc., as above. As to the journeyman, he had\nvery little to say, but that he pretended other of the servants told\nhim that I was really the person.\nUpon the whole, the justice first of all told me very courteously I was\ndischarged; that he was very sorry that the mercer\u2019s man should in his\neager pursuit have so little discretion as to take up an innocent\nperson for a guilty person; that if he had not been so unjust as to\ndetain me afterward, he believed I would have forgiven the first\naffront; that, however, it was not in his power to award me any\nreparation for anything, other than by openly reproving them, which he\nshould do; but he supposed I would apply to such methods as the law\ndirected; in the meantime he would bind him over.\nBut as to the breach of the peace committed by the journeyman, he told\nme he should give me some satisfaction for that, for he should commit\nhim to Newgate for assaulting the constable, and for assaulting me\nalso.\nAccordingly he sent the fellow to Newgate for that assault, and his\nmaster gave bail, and so we came away; but I had the satisfaction of\nseeing the mob wait upon them both, as they came out, hallooing and\nthrowing stones and dirt at the coaches they rode in; and so I came\nhome to my governess.\nAfter this hustle, coming home and telling my governess the story, she\nfalls a-laughing at me. \u201cWhy are you merry?\u201d says I; \u201cthe story has not\nso much laughing room in it as you imagine; I am sure I have had a\ngreat deal of hurry and fright too, with a pack of ugly rogues.\u201d\n\u201cLaugh!\u201d says my governess; \u201cI laugh, child, to see what a lucky\ncreature you are; why, this job will be the best bargain to you that\never you made in your life, if you manage it well. I warrant you,\u201d says\nshe, \u201cyou shall make the mercer pay you \u00a3500 for damages, besides what\nyou shall get out of the journeyman.\u201d\nI had other thoughts of the matter than she had; and especially,\nbecause I had given in my name to the justice of peace; and I knew that\nmy name was so well known among the people at Hick\u2019s Hall, the Old\nBailey, and such places, that if this cause came to be tried openly,\nand my name came to be inquired into, no court would give much damages,\nfor the reputation of a person of such a character. However, I was\nobliged to begin a prosecution in form, and accordingly my governess\nfound me out a very creditable sort of a man to manage it, being an\nattorney of very good business, and of a good reputation, and she was\ncertainly in the right of this; for had she employed a pettifogging\nhedge solicitor, or a man not known, and not in good reputation, I\nshould have brought it to but little.\nI met this attorney, and gave him all the particulars at large, as they\nare recited above; and he assured me it was a case, as he said, that\nwould very well support itself, and that he did not question but that a\njury would give very considerable damages on such an occasion; so\ntaking his full instructions he began the prosecution, and the mercer\nbeing arrested, gave bail. A few days after his giving bail, he comes\nwith his attorney to my attorney, to let him know that he desired to\naccommodate the matter; that it was all carried on in the heat of an\nunhappy passion; that his client, meaning me, had a sharp provoking\ntongue, that I used them ill, gibing at them, and jeering them, even\nwhile they believed me to be the very person, and that I had provoked\nthem, and the like.\nMy attorney managed as well on my side; made them believe I was a widow\nof fortune, that I was able to do myself justice, and had great friends\nto stand by me too, who had all made me promise to sue to the utmost,\nand that if it cost me a thousand pounds I would be sure to have\nsatisfaction, for that the affronts I had received were insufferable.\nHowever, they brought my attorney to this, that he promised he would\nnot blow the coals, that if I inclined to accommodation, he would not\nhinder me, and that he would rather persuade me to peace than to war;\nfor which they told him he should be no loser; all which he told me\nvery honestly, and told me that if they offered him any bribe, I should\ncertainly know it; but upon the whole he told me very honestly that if\nI would take his opinion, he would advise me to make it up with them,\nfor that as they were in a great fright, and were desirous above all\nthings to make it up, and knew that, let it be what it would, they\nwould be allotted to bear all the costs of the suit; he believed they\nwould give me freely more than any jury or court of justice would give\nupon a trial. I asked him what he thought they would be brought to. He\ntold me he could not tell as to that, but he would tell me more when I\nsaw him again.\nSome time after this, they came again to know if he had talked with me.\nHe told them he had; that he found me not so averse to an accommodation\nas some of my friends were, who resented the disgrace offered me, and\nset me on; that they blowed the coals in secret, prompting me to\nrevenge, or do myself justice, as they called it; so that he could not\ntell what to say to it; he told them he would do his endeavour to\npersuade me, but he ought to be able to tell me what proposal they\nmade. They pretended they could not make any proposal, because it might\nbe made use of against them; and he told them, that by the same rule he\ncould not make any offers, for that might be pleaded in abatement of\nwhat damages a jury might be inclined to give. However, after some\ndiscourse and mutual promises that no advantage should be taken on\neither side, by what was transacted then or at any other of those\nmeetings, they came to a kind of a treaty; but so remote, and so wide\nfrom one another, that nothing could be expected from it; for my\nattorney demanded \u00a3500 and charges, and they offered \u00a350 without\ncharges; so they broke off, and the mercer proposed to have a meeting\nwith me myself; and my attorney agreed to that very readily.\nMy attorney gave me notice to come to this meeting in good clothes, and\nwith some state, that the mercer might see I was something more than I\nseemed to be that time they had me. Accordingly I came in a new suit of\nsecond mourning, according to what I had said at the justice\u2019s. I set\nmyself out, too, as well as a widow\u2019s dress in second mourning would\nadmit; my governess also furnished me with a good pearl necklace, that\nshut in behind with a locket of diamonds, which she had in pawn; and I\nhad a very good figure; and as I stayed till I was sure they were come,\nI came in a coach to the door, with my maid with me.\nWhen I came into the room the mercer was surprised. He stood up and\nmade his bow, which I took a little notice of, and but a little, and\nwent and sat down where my own attorney had pointed to me to sit, for\nit was his house. After a little while the mercer said, he did not know\nme again, and began to make some compliments his way. I told him, I\nbelieved he did not know me at first, and that if he had, I believed he\nwould not have treated me as he did.\nHe told me he was very sorry for what had happened, and that it was to\ntestify the willingness he had to make all possible reparation that he\nhad appointed this meeting; that he hoped I would not carry things to\nextremity, which might be not only too great a loss to him, but might\nbe the ruin of his business and shop, in which case I might have the\nsatisfaction of repaying an injury with an injury ten times greater;\nbut that I would then get nothing, whereas he was willing to do me any\njustice that was in his power, without putting himself or me to the\ntrouble or charge of a suit at law.\nI told him I was glad to hear him talk so much more like a man of sense\nthan he did before; that it was true, acknowledgment in most cases of\naffronts was counted reparation sufficient; but this had gone too far\nto be made up so; that I was not revengeful, nor did I seek his ruin,\nor any man\u2019s else, but that all my friends were unanimous not to let me\nso far neglect my character as to adjust a thing of this kind without a\nsufficient reparation of honour; that to be taken up for a thief was\nsuch an indignity as could not be put up; that my character was above\nbeing treated so by any that knew me, but because in my condition of a\nwidow I had been for some time careless of myself, and negligent of\nmyself, I might be taken for such a creature, but that for the\nparticular usage I had from him afterwards,\u2014and then I repeated all as\nbefore; it was so provoking I had scarce patience to repeat it.\nWell, he acknowledged all, and was might humble indeed; he made\nproposals very handsome; he came up to \u00a3100 and to pay all the law\ncharges, and added that he would make me a present of a very good suit\nof clothes. I came down to \u00a3300, and I demanded that I should publish\nan advertisement of the particulars in the common newspapers.\nThis was a clause he never could comply with. However, at last he came\nup, by good management of my attorney, to \u00a3150 and a suit of black silk\nclothes; and there I agree, and as it were, at my attorney\u2019s request,\ncomplied with it, he paying my attorney\u2019s bill and charges, and gave us\na good supper into the bargain.\nWhen I came to receive the money, I brought my governess with me,\ndressed like an old duchess, and a gentleman very well dressed, who we\npretended courted me, but I called him cousin, and the lawyer was only\nto hint privately to him that his gentleman courted the widow.\nHe treated us handsomely indeed, and paid the money cheerfully enough;\nso that it cost him \u00a3200 in all, or rather more. At our last meeting,\nwhen all was agreed, the case of the journeyman came up, and the mercer\nbegged very hard for him; told me he was a man that had kept a shop of\nhis own, and been in good business, had a wife, and several children,\nand was very poor; that he had nothing to make satisfaction with, but\nhe should come to beg my pardon on his knees, if I desired it, as\nopenly as I pleased. I had no spleen at the saucy rogue, nor were his\nsubmissions anything to me, since there was nothing to be got by him,\nso I thought it was as good to throw that in generously as not; so I\ntold him I did not desire the ruin of any man, and therefore at his\nrequest I would forgive the wretch; it was below me to seek any\nrevenge.\nWhen we were at supper he brought the poor fellow in to make\nacknowledgment, which he would have done with as much mean humility as\nhis offence was with insulting haughtiness and pride, in which he was\nan instance of a complete baseness of spirit, impious, cruel, and\nrelentless when uppermost and in prosperity, abject and low-spirited\nwhen down in affliction. However, I abated his cringes, told him I\nforgave him, and desired he might withdraw, as if I did not care for\nthe sight of him, though I had forgiven him.\nI was now in good circumstances indeed, if I could have known my time\nfor leaving off, and my governess often said I was the richest of the\ntrade in England; and so I believe I was, for I had \u00a3700 by me in\nmoney, besides clothes, rings, some plate, and two gold watches, and\nall of them stolen, for I had innumerable jobs besides these I have\nmentioned. Oh! had I even now had the grace of repentance, I had still\nleisure to have looked back upon my follies, and have made some\nreparation; but the satisfaction I was to make for the public mischiefs\nI had done was yet left behind; and I could not forbear going abroad\nagain, as I called it now, than any more I could when my extremity\nreally drove me out for bread.\nIt was not long after the affair with the mercer was made up, that I\nwent out in an equipage quite different from any I had ever appeared in\nbefore. I dressed myself like a beggar woman, in the coarsest and most\ndespicable rags I could get, and I walked about peering and peeping\ninto every door and window I came near; and indeed I was in such a\nplight now that I knew as ill how to behave in as ever I did in any. I\nnaturally abhorred dirt and rags; I had been bred up tight and cleanly,\nand could be no other, whatever condition I was in; so that this was\nthe most uneasy disguise to me that ever I put on. I said presently to\nmyself that this would not do, for this was a dress that everybody was\nshy and afraid of; and I thought everybody looked at me, as if they\nwere afraid I should come near them, lest I should take something from\nthem, or afraid to come near me, lest they should get something from\nme. I wandered about all the evening the first time I went out, and\nmade nothing of it, but came home again wet, draggled, and tired.\nHowever, I went out again the next night, and then I met with a little\nadventure, which had like to have cost me dear. As I was standing near\na tavern door, there comes a gentleman on horseback, and lights at the\ndoor, and wanting to go into the tavern, he calls one of the drawers to\nhold his horse. He stayed pretty long in the tavern, and the drawer\nheard his master call, and thought he would be angry with him. Seeing\nme stand by him, he called to me, \u201cHere, woman,\u201d says he, \u201chold this\nhorse a while, till I go in; if the gentleman comes, he\u2019ll give you\nsomething.\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d says I, and takes the horse, and walks off with him\nvery soberly, and carried him to my governess.\nThis had been a booty to those that had understood it; but never was\npoor thief more at a loss to know what to do with anything that was\nstolen; for when I came home, my governess was quite confounded, and\nwhat to do with the creature, we neither of us knew. To send him to a\nstable was doing nothing, for it was certain that public notice would\nbe given in the _Gazette_, and the horse described, so that we durst\nnot go to fetch it again.\nAll the remedy we had for this unlucky adventure was to go and set up\nthe horse at an inn, and send a note by a porter to the tavern, that\nthe gentleman\u2019s horse that was lost such a time was left at such an\ninn, and that he might be had there; that the poor woman that held him,\nhaving led him about the street, not being able to lead him back again,\nhad left him there. We might have waited till the owner had published\nand offered a reward, but we did not care to venture the receiving the\nreward.\nSo this was a robbery and no robbery, for little was lost by it, and\nnothing was got by it, and I was quite sick of going out in a beggar\u2019s\ndress; it did not answer at all, and besides, I thought it was ominous\nand threatening.\nWhile I was in this disguise, I fell in with a parcel of folks of a\nworse kind than any I ever sorted with, and I saw a little into their\nways too. These were coiners of money, and they made some very good\noffers to me, as to profit; but the part they would have had me have\nembarked in was the most dangerous part. I mean that of the very\nworking the die, as they call it, which, had I been taken, had been\ncertain death, and that at a stake\u2014I say, to be burnt to death at a\nstake; so that though I was to appearance but a beggar, and they\npromised mountains of gold and silver to me to engage, yet it would not\ndo. It is true, if I had been really a beggar, or had been desperate as\nwhen I began, I might perhaps have closed with it; for what care they\nto die that can\u2019t tell how to live? But at present this was not my\ncondition, at least I was for no such terrible risks as those; besides,\nthe very thoughts of being burnt at a stake struck terror into my very\nsoul, chilled my blood, and gave me the vapours to such a degree, as I\ncould not think of it without trembling.\nThis put an end to my disguise too, for as I did not like the proposal,\nso I did not tell them so, but seemed to relish it, and promised to\nmeet again. But I durst see them no more; for if I had seen them, and\nnot complied, though I had declined it with the greatest assurance of\nsecrecy in the world, they would have gone near to have murdered me, to\nmake sure work, and make themselves easy, as they call it. What kind of\neasiness that is, they may best judge that understand how easy men are\nthat can murder people to prevent danger.\nThis and horse-stealing were things quite out of my way, and I might\neasily resolve I would have to more to say to them; my business seemed\nto lie another way, and though it had hazard enough in it too, yet it\nwas more suitable to me, and what had more of art in it, and more room\nto escape, and more chances for a-coming off if a surprise should\nhappen.\nI had several proposals made also to me about that time, to come into a\ngang of house-breakers; but that was a thing I had no mind to venture\nat neither, any more than I had at the coining trade. I offered to go\nalong with two men and a woman, that made it their business to get into\nhouses by stratagem, and with them I was willing enough to venture. But\nthere were three of them already, and they did not care to part, nor I\nto have too many in a gang, so I did not close with them, but declined\nthem, and they paid dear for their next attempt.\nBut at length I met with a woman that had often told me what adventures\nshe had made, and with success, at the waterside, and I closed with\nher, and we drove on our business pretty well. One day we came among\nsome Dutch people at St. Catherine\u2019s, where we went on pretence to buy\ngoods that were privately got on shore. I was two or three times in a\nhouse where we saw a good quantity of prohibited goods, and my\ncompanion once brought away three pieces of Dutch black silk that\nturned to good account, and I had my share of it; but in all the\njourneys I made by myself, I could not get an opportunity to do\nanything, so I laid it aside, for I had been so often, that they began\nto suspect something, and were so shy, that I saw nothing was to be\ndone.\nThis baulked me a little, and I resolved to push at something or other,\nfor I was not used to come back so often without purchase; so the next\nday I dressed myself up fine, and took a walk to the other end of the\ntown. I passed through the Exchange in the Strand, but had no notion of\nfinding anything to do there, when on a sudden I saw a great cluttering\nin the place, and all the people, shopkeepers as well as others,\nstanding up and staring; and what should it be but some great duchess\ncome into the Exchange, and they said the queen was coming. I set\nmyself close up to a shop-side with my back to the counter, as if to\nlet the crowd pass by, when keeping my eye upon a parcel of lace which\nthe shopkeeper was showing to some ladies that stood by me, the\nshopkeeper and her maid were so taken up with looking to see who was\ncoming, and what shop they would go to, that I found means to slip a\npaper of lace into my pocket and come clear off with it; so the\nlady-milliner paid dear enough for her gaping after the queen.\nI went off from the shop, as if driven along by the throng, and\nmingling myself with the crowd, went out at the other door of the\nExchange, and so got away before they missed their lace; and because I\nwould not be followed, I called a coach and shut myself up in it. I had\nscarce shut the coach doors up, but I saw the milliner\u2019s maid and five\nor six more come running out into the street, and crying out as if they\nwere frightened. They did not cry \u201cStop thief!\u201d because nobody ran\naway, but I could hear the word \u201crobbed,\u201d and \u201clace,\u201d two or three\ntimes, and saw the wench wringing her hands, and run staring to and\nagain, like one scared. The coachman that had taken me up was getting\nup into the box, but was not quite up, so that the horse had not begun\nto move; so that I was terrible uneasy, and I took the packet of lace\nand laid it ready to have dropped it out at the flap of the coach,\nwhich opens before, just behind the coachman; but to my great\nsatisfaction, in less than a minute the coach began to move, that is to\nsay, as soon as the coachman had got up and spoken to his horses; so he\ndrove away without any interruption, and I brought off my purchase,\nwhich was worth near \u00a320.\nThe next day I dressed up again, but in quite different clothes, and\nwalked the same way again, but nothing offered till I came into St.\nJames\u2019s Park, where I saw abundance of fine ladies in the Park, walking\nin the Mall, and among the rest there was a little miss, a young lady\nof about twelve or thirteen years old, and she had a sister, as I\nsuppose it was, with her, that might be about nine years old. I\nobserved the biggest had a fine gold watch on, and a good necklace of\npearl, and they had a footman in livery with them; but as it is not\nusual for the footman to go behind the ladies in the Mall, so I\nobserved the footman stopped at their going into the Mall, and the\nbiggest of the sisters spoke to him, which I perceived was to bid him\nbe just there when they came back.\nWhen I heard her dismiss the footman, I stepped up to him and asked\nhim, what little lady that was? and held a little chat with him about\nwhat a pretty child it was with her, and how genteel and well-carriaged\nthe lady, the eldest, would be: how womanish, and how grave; and the\nfool of a fellow told me presently who she was; that she was Sir Thomas\n\u2014\u2014\u2019s eldest daughter, of Essex, and that she was a great fortune; that\nher mother was not come to town yet; but she was with Sir William \u2014\u2014\u2019s\nlady, of Suffolk, at her lodging in Suffolk Street, and a great deal\nmore; that they had a maid and a woman to wait on them, besides Sir\nThomas\u2019s coach, the coachman, and himself; and that young lady was\ngoverness to the whole family, as well here as at home too; and, in\nshort, told me abundance of things enough for my business.\nI was very well dressed, and had my gold watch as well as she; so I\nleft the footman, and I puts myself in a rank with this young lady,\nhaving stayed till she had taken one double turn in the Mall, and was\ngoing forward again; by and by I saluted her by her name, with the\ntitle of Lady Betty. I asked her when she heard from her father; when\nmy lady her mother would be in town, and how she did.\nI talked so familiarly to her of her whole family that she could not\nsuspect but that I knew them all intimately. I asked her why she would\ncome abroad without Mrs. Chime with her (that was the name of her\nwoman) to take of Mrs. Judith, that was her sister. Then I entered into\na long chat with her about her sister, what a fine little lady she was,\nand asked her if she had learned French, and a thousand such little\nthings to entertain her, when on a sudden we saw the guards come, and\nthe crowd ran to see the king go by to the Parliament House.\nThe ladies ran all to the side of the Mall, and I helped my lady to\nstand upon the edge of the boards on the side of the Mall, that she\nmight be high enough to see; and took the little one and lifted her\nquite up; during which, I took care to convey the gold watch so clean\naway from the Lady Betty, that she never felt it, nor missed it, till\nall the crowd was gone, and she was gotten into the middle of the Mall\namong the other ladies.\nI took my leave of her in the very crowd, and said to her, as if in\nhaste, \u201cDear Lady Betty, take care of your little sister.\u201d And so the\ncrowd did as it were thrust me away from her, and that I was obliged\nunwillingly to take my leave.\nThe hurry in such cases is immediately over, and the place clear as\nsoon as the king is gone by; but as there is always a great running and\nclutter just as the king passes, so having dropped the two little\nladies, and done my business with them without any miscarriage, I kept\nhurrying on among the crowd, as if I ran to see the king, and so I got\nbefore the crowd and kept so till I came to the end of the Mall, when\nthe king going on towards the Horse Guards, I went forward to the\npassage, which went then through against the lower end of the\nHaymarket, and there I bestowed a coach upon myself, and made off, and\nI confess I have not yet been so good as my word, viz. to go and visit\nmy Lady Betty.\nI was once of the mind to venture staying with Lady Betty till she\nmissed the watch, and so have made a great outcry about it with her,\nand have got her into the coach, and put myself in the coach with her,\nand have gone home with her; for she appeared so fond of me, and so\nperfectly deceived by my so readily talking to her of all her relations\nand family, that I thought it was very easy to push the thing farther,\nand to have got at least the necklace of pearl; but when I considered\nthat though the child would not perhaps have suspected me, other people\nmight, and that if I was searched I should be discovered, I thought it\nwas best to go off with what I had got, and be satisfied.\nI came accidentally afterwards to hear, that when the young lady missed\nher watch, she made a great outcry in the Park, and sent her footman up\nand down to see if he could find me out, she having described me so\nperfectly that he knew presently that it was the same person that had\nstood and talked so long with him, and asked him so many questions\nabout them; but I gone far enough out of their reach before she could\ncome at her footman to tell him the story.\nI made another adventure after this, of a nature different from all I\nhad been concerned in yet, and this was at a gaming-house near Covent\nGarden.\nI saw several people go in and out; and I stood in the passage a good\nwhile with another woman with me, and seeing a gentleman go up that\nseemed to be of more than ordinary fashion, I said to him, \u201cSir, pray\ndon\u2019t they give women leave to go up?\u201d \u201cYes, madam,\u201d says he, \u201cand to\nplay too, if they please.\u201d \u201cI mean so, sir,\u201d said I. And with that he\nsaid he would introduce me if I had a mind; so I followed him to the\ndoor, and he looking in, \u201cThere, madam,\u201d says he, \u201care the gamesters,\nif you have a mind to venture.\u201d I looked in and said to my comrade\naloud, \u201cHere\u2019s nothing but men; I won\u2019t venture among them.\u201d At which\none of the gentlemen cried out, \u201cYou need not be afraid, madam, here\u2019s\nnone but fair gamesters; you are very welcome to come and set what you\nplease.\u201d So I went a little nearer and looked on, and some of them\nbrought me a chair, and I sat down and saw the box and dice go round\napace; then I said to my comrade, \u201cThe gentlemen play too high for us;\ncome, let us go.\u201d\nThe people were all very civil, and one gentleman in particular\nencouraged me, and said, \u201cCome, madam, if you please to venture, if you\ndare trust me, I\u2019ll answer for it you shall have nothing put upon you\nhere.\u201d \u201cNo, sir,\u201d said I, smiling, \u201cI hope the gentlemen would not\ncheat a woman.\u201d But still I declined venturing, though I pulled out a\npurse with money in it, that they might see I did not want money.\nAfter I had sat a while, one gentleman said to me, jeering, \u201cCome,\nmadam, I see you are afraid to venture for yourself; I always had good\nluck with the ladies, you shall set for me, if you won\u2019t set for\nyourself.\u201d I told him, \u201cSir, I should be very loth to lose your money,\u201d\nthough I added, \u201cI am pretty lucky too; but the gentlemen play so high,\nthat I dare not indeed venture my own.\u201d\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d says he, \u201cthere\u2019s ten guineas, madam; set them for me.\u201d\nSo I took his money and set, himself looking on. I ran out nine of the\nguineas by one and two at a time, and then the box coming to the next\nman to me, my gentleman gave me ten guineas more, and made me set five\nof them at once, and the gentleman who had the box threw out, so there\nwas five guineas of his money again. He was encouraged at this, and\nmade me take the box, which was a bold venture. However, I held the box\nso long that I had gained him his whole money, and had a good handful\nof guineas in my lap, and which was the better luck, when I threw out,\nI threw but at one or two of those that had set me, and so went off\neasy.\nWhen I was come this length, I offered the gentleman all the gold, for\nit was his own; and so would have had him play for himself, pretending\nI did not understand the game well enough. He laughed, and said if I\nhad but good luck, it was no matter whether I understood the game or\nno; but I should not leave off. However, he took out the fifteen\nguineas that he had put in at first, and bade me play with the rest. I\nwould have told them to see how much I had got, but he said, \u201cNo, no,\ndon\u2019t tell them, I believe you are very honest, and \u2019tis bad luck to\ntell them\u201d; so I played on.\nI understood the game well enough, though I pretended I did not, and\nplayed cautiously. It was to keep a good stock in my lap, out of which\nI every now and then conveyed some into my pocket, but in such a\nmanner, and at such convenient times, as I was sure he could not see\nit.\nI played a great while, and had very good luck for him; but the last\ntime I held the box, they set me high, and I threw boldly at all; I\nheld the box till I gained near fourscore guineas, but lost above half\nof it back in the last throw; so I got up, for I was afraid I should\nlose it all back again, and said to him, \u201cPray come, sir, now, and take\nit and play for yourself; I think I have done pretty well for you.\u201d He\nwould have had me play on, but it grew late, and I desired to be\nexcused. When I gave it up to him, I told him I hoped he would give me\nleave to tell it now, that I might see what I had gained, and how lucky\nI had been for him; when I told them, there were threescore and three\nguineas. \u201cAy,\u201d says I, \u201cif it had not been for that unlucky throw, I\nhad got you a hundred guineas.\u201d So I gave him all the money, but he\nwould not take it till I had put my hand into it, and taken some for\nmyself, and bid me please myself. I refused it, and was positive I\nwould not take it myself; if he had a mind to anything of that kind, it\nshould be all his own doings.\nThe rest of the gentlemen seeing us striving cried, \u201cGive it her all\u201d;\nbut I absolutely refused that. Then one of them said, \u201cD\u2014n ye, Jack,\nhalve it with her; don\u2019t you know you should be always upon even terms\nwith the ladies.\u201d So, in short, he divided it with me, and I brought\naway thirty guineas, besides about forty-three which I had stole\nprivately, which I was sorry for afterward, because he was so generous.\nThus I brought home seventy-three guineas, and let my old governess see\nwhat good luck I had at play. However, it was her advice that I should\nnot venture again, and I took her counsel, for I never went there any\nmore; for I knew as well as she, if the itch of play came in, I might\nsoon lose that, and all the rest of what I had got.\nFortune had smiled upon me to that degree, and I had thriven so much,\nand my governess too, for she always had a share with me, that really\nthe old gentlewoman began to talk of leaving off while we were well,\nand being satisfied with what we had got; but, I know not what fate\nguided me, I was as backward to it now as she was when I proposed it to\nher before, and so in an ill hour we gave over the thoughts of it for\nthe present, and, in a word, I grew more hardened and audacious than\never, and the success I had made my name as famous as any thief of my\nsort ever had been at Newgate, and in the Old Bailey.\nI had sometime taken the liberty to play the same game over again,\nwhich is not according to practice, which however succeeded not amiss;\nbut generally I took up new figures, and contrived to appear in new\nshapes every time I went abroad.\nIt was not a rumbling time of the year, and the gentlemen being most of\nthem gone out of town, Tunbridge, and Epsom, and such places were full\nof people. But the city was thin, and I thought our trade felt it a\nlittle, as well as other; so that at the latter end of the year I\njoined myself with a gang who usually go every year to Stourbridge\nFair, and from thence to Bury Fair, in Suffolk. We promised ourselves\ngreat things there, but when I came to see how things were, I was weary\nof it presently; for except mere picking of pockets, there was little\nworth meddling with; neither, if a booty had been made, was it so easy\ncarrying it off, nor was there such a variety of occasion for business\nin our way, as in London; all that I made of the whole journey was a\ngold watch at Bury Fair, and a small parcel of linen at Cambridge,\nwhich gave me an occasion to take leave of the place. It was on old\nbite, and I thought might do with a country shopkeeper, though in\nLondon it would not.\nI bought at a linen-draper\u2019s shop, not in the fair, but in the town of\nCambridge, as much fine holland and other things as came to about seven\npounds; when I had done, I bade them be sent to such an inn, where I\nhad purposely taken up my being the same morning, as if I was to lodge\nthere that night.\nI ordered the draper to send them home to me, about such an hour, to\nthe inn where I lay, and I would pay him his money. At the time\nappointed the draper sends the goods, and I placed one of our gang at\nthe chamber door, and when the innkeeper\u2019s maid brought the messenger\nto the door, who was a young fellow, an apprentice, almost a man, she\ntells him her mistress was asleep, but if he would leave the things and\ncall in about an hour, I should be awake, and he might have the money.\nHe left the parcel very readily, and goes his way, and in about half an\nhour my maid and I walked off, and that very evening I hired a horse,\nand a man to ride before me, and went to Newmarket, and from thence got\nmy passage in a coach that was not quite full to St. Edmund\u2019s Bury,\nwhere, as I told you, I could make but little of my trade, only at a\nlittle country opera-house made a shift to carry off a gold watch from\na lady\u2019s side, who was not only intolerably merry, but, as I thought, a\nlittle fuddled, which made my work much easier.\nI made off with this little booty to Ipswich, and from thence to\nHarwich, where I went into an inn, as if I had newly arrived from\nHolland, not doubting but I should make some purchase among the\nforeigners that came on shore there; but I found them generally empty\nof things of value, except what was in their portmanteaux and Dutch\nhampers, which were generally guarded by footmen; however, I fairly got\none of their portmanteaux one evening out of the chamber where the\ngentleman lay, the footman being fast asleep on the bed, and I suppose\nvery drunk.\nThe room in which I lodged lay next to the Dutchman\u2019s, and having\ndragged the heavy thing with much ado out of the chamber into mine, I\nwent out into the street, to see if I could find any possibility of\ncarrying it off. I walked about a great while, but could see no\nprobability either of getting out the thing, or of conveying away the\ngoods that were in it if I had opened it, the town being so small, and\nI a perfect stranger in it; so I was returning with a resolution to\ncarry it back again, and leave it where I found it. Just in that very\nmoment I heard a man make a noise to some people to make haste, for the\nboat was going to put off, and the tide would be spent. I called to the\nfellow, \u201cWhat boat is it, friend,\u201d says I, \u201cthat you belong to?\u201d \u201cThe\nIpswich wherry, madam,\u201d says he. \u201cWhen do you go off?\u201d says I. \u201cThis\nmoment, madam,\u201d says he; \u201cdo you want to go thither?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d said I,\n\u201cif you can stay till I fetch my things.\u201d \u201cWhere are your things,\nmadam?\u201d says he. \u201cAt such an inn,\u201d said I. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll go with you,\nmadam,\u201d says he, very civilly, \u201cand bring them for you.\u201d \u201cCome away,\nthen,\u201d says I, and takes him with me.\nThe people of the inn were in a great hurry, the packet-boat from\nHolland being just come in, and two coaches just come also with\npassengers from London, for another packet-boat that was going off for\nHolland, which coaches were to go back next day with the passengers\nthat were just landed. In this hurry it was not much minded that I came\nto the bar and paid my reckoning, telling my landlady I had gotten my\npassage by sea in a wherry.\nThese wherries are large vessels, with good accommodation for carrying\npassengers from Harwich to London; and though they are called wherries,\nwhich is a word used in the Thames for a small boat rowed with one or\ntwo men, yet these are vessels able to carry twenty passengers, and ten\nor fifteen tons of goods, and fitted to bear the sea. All this I had\nfound out by inquiring the night before into the several ways of going\nto London.\nMy landlady was very courteous, took my money for my reckoning, but was\ncalled away, all the house being in a hurry. So I left her, took the\nfellow up to my chamber, gave him the trunk, or portmanteau, for it was\nlike a trunk, and wrapped it about with an old apron, and he went\ndirectly to his boat with it, and I after him, nobody asking us the\nleast question about it; as for the drunken Dutch footman he was still\nasleep, and his master with other foreign gentlemen at supper, and very\nmerry below, so I went clean off with it to Ipswich; and going in the\nnight, the people of the house knew nothing but that I was gone to\nLondon by the Harwich wherry, as I had told my landlady.\nI was plagued at Ipswich with the custom-house officers, who stopped my\ntrunk, as I called it, and would open and search it. I was willing, I\ntold them, they should search it, but husband had the key, and he was\nnot yet come from Harwich; this I said, that if upon searching it they\nshould find all the things be such as properly belonged to a man rather\nthan a woman, it should not seem strange to them. However, they being\npositive to open the trunk I consented to have it be broken open, that\nis to say, to have the lock taken off, which was not difficult.\nThey found nothing for their turn, for the trunk had been searched\nbefore, but they discovered several things very much to my\nsatisfaction, as particularly a parcel of money in French pistoles, and\nsome Dutch ducatoons or rix-dollars, and the rest was chiefly two\nperiwigs, wearing-linen, and razors, wash-balls, perfumes, and other\nuseful things necessary for a gentleman, which all passed for my\nhusband\u2019s, and so I was quit to them.\nIt was now very early in the morning, and not light, and I knew not\nwell what course to take; for I made no doubt but I should be pursued\nin the morning, and perhaps be taken with the things about me; so I\nresolved upon taking new measures. I went publicly to an inn in the\ntown with my trunk, as I called it, and having taken the substance out,\nI did not think the lumber of it worth my concern; however, I gave it\nthe landlady of the house with a charge to take great care of it, and\nlay it up safe till I should come again, and away I walked in to the\nstreet.\nWhen I was got into the town a great way from the inn, I met with an\nancient woman who had just opened her door, and I fell into chat with\nher, and asked her a great many wild questions of things all remote to\nmy purpose and design; but in my discourse I found by her how the town\nwas situated, that I was in a street that went out towards Hadley, but\nthat such a street went towards the water-side, such a street towards\nColchester, and so the London road lay there.\nI had soon my ends of this old woman, for I only wanted to know which\nwas the London road, and away I walked as fast as I could; not that I\nintended to go on foot, either to London or to Colchester, but I wanted\nto get quietly away from Ipswich.\nI walked about two or three miles, and then I met a plain countryman,\nwho was busy about some husbandry work, I did not know what, and I\nasked him a great many questions first, not much to the purpose, but at\nlast told him I was going for London, and the coach was full, and I\ncould not get a passage, and asked him if he could tell me where to\nhire a horse that would carry double, and an honest man to ride before\nme to Colchester, that so I might get a place there in the coaches. The\nhonest clown looked earnestly at me, and said nothing for above half a\nminute, when, scratching his poll, \u201cA horse, say you and to Colchester,\nto carry double? why yes, mistress, alack-a-day, you may have horses\nenough for money.\u201d \u201cWell, friend,\u201d says I, \u201cthat I take for granted; I\ndon\u2019t expect it without money.\u201d \u201cWhy, but, mistress,\u201d says he, \u201chow\nmuch are you willing to give?\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d says I again, \u201cfriend, I don\u2019t\nknow what your rates are in the country here, for I am a stranger; but\nif you can get one for me, get it as cheap as you can, and I\u2019ll give\nyou somewhat for your pains.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, that\u2019s honestly said too,\u201d says the countryman. \u201cNot so honest,\nneither,\u201d said I to myself, \u201cif thou knewest all.\u201d \u201cWhy, mistress,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cI have a horse that will carry double, and I don\u2019t much care\nif I go myself with you,\u201d and the like. \u201cWill you?\u201d says I; \u201cwell, I\nbelieve you are an honest man; if you will, I shall be glad of it; I\u2019ll\npay you in reason.\u201d \u201cWhy, look ye, mistress,\u201d says he, \u201cI won\u2019t be out\nof reason with you, then; if I carry you to Colchester, it will be\nworth five shillings for myself and my horse, for I shall hardly come\nback to-night.\u201d\nIn short, I hired the honest man and his horse; but when we came to a\ntown upon the road (I do not remember the name of it, but it stands\nupon a river), I pretended myself very ill, and I could go no farther\nthat night but if he would stay there with me, because I was a\nstranger, I would pay him for himself and his horse with all my heart.\nThis I did because I knew the Dutch gentlemen and their servants would\nbe upon the road that day, either in the stagecoaches or riding post,\nand I did not know but the drunken fellow, or somebody else that might\nhave seen me at Harwich, might see me again, and so I thought that in\none day\u2019s stop they would be all gone by.\nWe lay all that night there, and the next morning it was not very early\nwhen I set out, so that it was near ten o\u2019clock by the time I got to\nColchester. It was no little pleasure that I saw the town where I had\nso many pleasant days, and I made many inquiries after the good old\nfriends I had once had there, but could make little out; they were all\ndead or removed. The young ladies had been all married or gone to\nLondon; the old gentleman and the old lady that had been my early\nbenefactress all dead; and which troubled me most, the young gentleman\nmy first lover, and afterwards my brother-in-law, was dead; but two\nsons, men grown, were left of him, but they too were transplanted to\nLondon.\nI dismissed my old man here, and stayed incognito for three or four\ndays in Colchester, and then took a passage in a waggon, because I\nwould not venture being seen in the Harwich coaches. But I needed not\nhave used so much caution, for there was nobody in Harwich but the\nwoman of the house could have known me; nor was it rational to think\nthat she, considering the hurry she was in, and that she never saw me\nbut once, and that by candlelight, should have ever discovered me.\nI was now returned to London, and though by the accident of the last\nadventure I got something considerable, yet I was not fond of any more\ncountry rambles, nor should I have ventured abroad again if I had\ncarried the trade on to the end of my days. I gave my governess a\nhistory of my travels; she liked the Harwich journey well enough, and\nin discoursing of these things between ourselves she observed, that a\nthief being a creature that watches the advantages of other people\u2019s\nmistakes, \u2019tis impossible but that to one that is vigilant and\nindustrious many opportunities must happen, and therefore she thought\nthat one so exquisitely keen in the trade as I was, would scarce fail\nof something extraordinary wherever I went.\nOn the other hand, every branch of my story, if duly considered, may be\nuseful to honest people, and afford a due caution to people of some\nsort or other to guard against the like surprises, and to have their\neyes about them when they have to do with strangers of any kind, for\n\u2019tis very seldom that some snare or other is not in their way. The\nmoral, indeed, of all my history is left to be gathered by the senses\nand judgment of the reader; I am not qualified to preach to them. Let\nthe experience of one creature completely wicked, and completely\nmiserable, be a storehouse of useful warning to those that read.\nI am drawing now towards a new variety of the scenes of life. Upon my\nreturn, being hardened by a long race of crime, and success\nunparalleled, at least in the reach of my own knowledge, I had, as I\nhave said, no thoughts of laying down a trade which, if I was to judge\nby the example of other, must, however, end at last in misery and\nsorrow.\nIt was on the Christmas day following, in the evening, that, to finish\na long train of wickedness, I went abroad to see what might offer in my\nway; when going by a working silversmith\u2019s in Foster Lane, I saw a\ntempting bait indeed, and not be resisted by one of my occupation, for\nthe shop had nobody in it, as I could see, and a great deal of loose\nplate lay in the window, and at the seat of the man, who usually, as I\nsuppose, worked at one side of the shop.\nI went boldly in, and was just going to lay my hand upon a piece of\nplate, and might have done it, and carried it clear off, for any care\nthat the men who belonged to the shop had taken of it; but an officious\nfellow in a house, not a shop, on the other side of the way, seeing me\ngo in, and observing that there was nobody in the shop, comes running\nover the street, and into the shop, and without asking me what I was,\nor who, seizes upon me, an cries out for the people of the house.\nI had not, as I said above, touched anything in the shop, and seeing a\nglimpse of somebody running over to the shop, I had so much presence of\nmind as to knock very hard with my foot on the floor of the house, and\nwas just calling out too, when the fellow laid hands on me.\nHowever, as I had always most courage when I was in most danger, so\nwhen the fellow laid hands on me, I stood very high upon it, that I\ncame in to buy half a dozen of silver spoons; and to my good fortune,\nit was a silversmith\u2019s that sold plate, as well as worked plate for\nother shops. The fellow laughed at that part, and put such a value upon\nthe service that he had done his neighbour, that he would have it be\nthat I came not to buy, but to steal; and raising a great crowd. I said\nto the master of the shop, who by this time was fetched home from some\nneighbouring place, that it was in vain to make noise, and enter into\ntalk there of the case; the fellow had insisted that I came to steal,\nand he must prove it, and I desired we might go before a magistrate\nwithout any more words; for I began to see I should be too hard for the\nman that had seized me.\nThe master and mistress of the shop were really not so violent as the\nman from t\u2019other side of the way; and the man said, \u201cMistress, you\nmight come into the shop with a good design for aught I know, but it\nseemed a dangerous thing for you to come into such a shop as mine is,\nwhen you see nobody there; and I cannot do justice to my neighbour, who\nwas so kind to me, as not to acknowledge he had reason on his side;\nthough, upon the whole, I do not find you attempted to take anything,\nand I really know not what to do in it.\u201d I pressed him to go before a\nmagistrate with me, and if anything could be proved on me that was like\na design of robbery, I should willingly submit, but if not, I expected\nreparation.\nJust while we were in this debate, and a crowd of people gathered about\nthe door, came by Sir T. B., an alderman of the city, and justice of\nthe peace, and the goldsmith hearing of it, goes out, and entreated his\nworship to come in and decide the case.\nGive the goldsmith his due, he told his story with a great deal of\njustice and moderation, and the fellow that had come over, and seized\nupon me, told his with as much heat and foolish passion, which did me\ngood still, rather than harm. It came then to my turn to speak, and I\ntold his worship that I was a stranger in London, being newly come out\nof the north; that I lodged in such a place, that I was passing this\nstreet, and went into the goldsmith\u2019s shop to buy half a dozen of\nspoons. By great luck I had an old silver spoon in my pocket, which I\npulled out, and told him I had carried that spoon to match it with half\na dozen of new ones, that it might match some I had in the country.\nThat seeing nobody I the shop, I knocked with my foot very hard to make\nthe people hear, and had also called aloud with my voice; \u2019tis true,\nthere was loose plate in the shop, but that nobody could say I had\ntouched any of it, or gone near it; that a fellow came running into the\nshop out of the street, and laid hands on me in a furious manner, in\nthe very moments while I was calling for the people of the house; that\nif he had really had a mind to have done his neighbour any service, he\nshould have stood at a distance, and silently watched to see whether I\nhad touched anything or no, and then have clapped in upon me, and taken\nme in the fact. \u201cThat is very true,\u201d says Mr. Alderman, and turning to\nthe fellow that stopped me, he asked him if it was true that I knocked\nwith my foot? He said, yes, I had knocked, but that might be because of\nhis coming. \u201cNay,\u201d says the alderman, taking him short, \u201cnow you\ncontradict yourself, for just now you said she was in the shop with her\nback to you, and did not see you till you came upon her.\u201d Now it was\ntrue that my back was partly to the street, but yet as my business was\nof a kind that required me to have my eyes every way, so I really had a\nglance of him running over, as I said before, though he did not\nperceive it.\nAfter a full hearing, the alderman gave it as his opinion that his\nneighbour was under a mistake, and that I was innocent, and the\ngoldsmith acquiesced in it too, and his wife, and so I was dismissed;\nbut as I was going to depart, Mr. Alderman said, \u201cBut hold, madam, if\nyou were designing to buy spoons, I hope you will not let my friend\nhere lose his customer by the mistake.\u201d I readily answered, \u201cNo, sir,\nI\u2019ll buy the spoons still, if he can match my odd spoon, which I\nbrought for a pattern\u201d; and the goldsmith showed me some of the very\nsame fashion. So he weighed the spoons, and they came to\nfive-and-thirty shillings, so I pulls out my purse to pay him, in which\nI had near twenty guineas, for I never went without such a sum about\nme, whatever might happen, and I found it of use at other times as well\nas now.\nWhen Mr. Alderman saw my money, he said, \u201cWell, madam, now I am\nsatisfied you were wronged, and it was for this reason that I moved you\nshould buy the spoons, and stayed till you had bought them, for if you\nhad not had money to pay for them, I should have suspected that you did\nnot come into the shop with an intent to buy, for indeed the sort of\npeople who come upon these designs that you have been charged with, are\nseldom troubled with much gold in their pockets, as I see you are.\u201d\nI smiled, and told his worship, that then I owed something of his\nfavour to my money, but I hoped he saw reason also in the justice he\nhad done me before. He said, yes, he had, but this had confirmed his\nopinion, and he was fully satisfied now of my having been injured. So I\ncame off with flying colours, though from an affair in which I was at\nthe very brink of destruction.\nIt was but three days after this, that not at all made cautious by my\nformer danger, as I used to be, and still pursuing the art which I had\nso long been employed in, I ventured into a house where I saw the doors\nopen, and furnished myself, as I though verily without being perceived,\nwith two pieces of flowered silks, such as they call brocaded silk,\nvery rich. It was not a mercer\u2019s shop, nor a warehouse of a mercer, but\nlooked like a private dwelling-house, and was, it seems, inhabited by a\nman that sold goods for the weavers to the mercers, like a broker or\nfactor.\nThat I may make short of this black part of this story, I was attacked\nby two wenches that came open-mouthed at me just as I was going out at\nthe door, and one of them pulled me back into the room, while the other\nshut the door upon me. I would have given them good words, but there\nwas no room for it, two fiery dragons could not have been more furious\nthan they were; they tore my clothes, bullied and roared as if they\nwould have murdered me; the mistress of the house came next, and then\nthe master, and all outrageous, for a while especially.\nI gave the master very good words, told him the door was open, and\nthings were a temptation to me, that I was poor and distressed, and\npoverty was when many could not resist, and begged him with tears to\nhave pity on me. The mistress of the house was moved with compassion,\nand inclined to have let me go, and had almost persuaded her husband to\nit also, but the saucy wenches were run, even before they were sent,\nand had fetched a constable, and then the master said he could not go\nback, I must go before a justice, and answered his wife that he might\ncome into trouble himself if he should let me go.\nThe sight of the constable, indeed, struck me with terror, and I\nthought I should have sunk into the ground. I fell into faintings, and\nindeed the people themselves thought I would have died, when the woman\nargued again for me, and entreated her husband, seeing they had lost\nnothing, to let me go. I offered him to pay for the two pieces,\nwhatever the value was, though I had not got them, and argued that as\nhe had his goods, and had really lost nothing, it would be cruel to\npursue me to death, and have my blood for the bare attempt of taking\nthem. I put the constable in mind that I had broke no doors, nor\ncarried anything away; and when I came to the justice, and pleaded\nthere that I had neither broken anything to get in, nor carried\nanything out, the justice was inclined to have released me; but the\nfirst saucy jade that stopped me, affirming that I was going out with\nthe goods, but that she stopped me and pulled me back as I was upon the\nthreshold, the justice upon that point committed me, and I was carried\nto Newgate. That horrid place! my very blood chills at the mention of\nits name; the place where so many of my comrades had been locked up,\nand from whence they went to the fatal tree; the place where my mother\nsuffered so deeply, where I was brought into the world, and from whence\nI expected no redemption but by an infamous death: to conclude, the\nplace that had so long expected me, and which with so much art and\nsuccess I had so long avoided.\nI was not fixed indeed; \u2019tis impossible to describe the terror of my\nmind, when I was first brought in, and when I looked around upon all\nthe horrors of that dismal place. I looked on myself as lost, and that\nI had nothing to think of but of going out of the world, and that with\nthe utmost infamy: the hellish noise, the roaring, swearing, and\nclamour, the stench and nastiness, and all the dreadful crowd of\nafflicting things that I saw there, joined together to make the place\nseem an emblem of hell itself, and a kind of an entrance into it.\nNow I reproached myself with the many hints I had had, as I have\nmentioned above, from my own reason, from the sense of my good\ncircumstances, and of the many dangers I had escaped, to leave off\nwhile I was well, and how I had withstood them all, and hardened my\nthoughts against all fear. It seemed to me that I was hurried on by an\ninevitable and unseen fate to this day of misery, and that now I was to\nexpiate all my offences at the gallows; that I was now to give\nsatisfaction to justice with my blood, and that I was come to the last\nhour of my life and of my wickedness together. These things poured\nthemselves in upon my thoughts in a confused manner, and left me\noverwhelmed with melancholy and despair.\nThem I repented heartily of all my life past, but that repentance\nyielded me no satisfaction, no peace, no, not in the least, because, as\nI said to myself, it was repenting after the power of further sinning\nwas taken away. I seemed not to mourn that I had committed such crimes,\nand for the fact as it was an offence against God and my neighbour, but\nI mourned that I was to be punished for it. I was a penitent, as I\nthought, not that I had sinned, but that I was to suffer, and this took\naway all the comfort, and even the hope of my repentance in my own\nthoughts.\nI got no sleep for several nights or days after I came into that\nwretched place, and glad I would have been for some time to have died\nthere, though I did not consider dying as it ought to be considered\nneither; indeed, nothing could be filled with more horror to my\nimagination than the very place, nothing was more odious to me than the\ncompany that was there. Oh! if I had but been sent to any place in the\nworld, and not to Newgate, I should have thought myself happy.\nIn the next place, how did the hardened wretches that were there before\nme triumph over me! What! Mrs. Flanders come to Newgate at last? What!\nMrs. Mary, Mrs. Molly, and after that plain Moll Flanders? They thought\nthe devil had helped me, they said, that I had reigned so long; they\nexpected me there many years ago, and was I come at last? Then they\nflouted me with my dejections, welcomed me to the place, wished me joy,\nbid me have a good heart, not to be cast down, things might not be so\nbad as I feared, and the like; then called for brandy, and drank to me,\nbut put it all up to my score, for they told me I was but just come to\nthe college, as they called it, and sure I had money in my pocket,\nthough they had none.\nI asked one of this crew how long she had been there. She said four\nmonths. I asked her how the place looked to her when she first came\ninto it. \u201cJust as it did now to you,\u201d says she, \u201cdreadful and\nfrightful\u201d; that she thought she was in hell; \u201cand I believe so still,\u201d\nadds she, \u201cbut it is natural to me now, I don\u2019t disturb myself about\nit.\u201d \u201cI suppose,\u201d says I, \u201cyou are in no danger of what is to follow?\u201d\n\u201cNay,\u201d says she, \u201cfor you are mistaken there, I assure you, for I am\nunder sentence, only I pleaded my belly, but I am no more with child\nthan the judge that tried me, and I expect to be called down next\nsessions.\u201d This \u201ccalling down\u201d is calling down to their former\njudgment, when a woman has been respited for her belly, but proves not\nto be with child, or if she has been with child, and has been brought\nto bed. \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201care you thus easy?\u201d \u201cAy,\u201d says she, \u201cI can\u2019t\nhelp myself; what signifies being sad? If I am hanged, there\u2019s an end\nof me,\u201d says she; and away she turns dancing, and sings as she goes the\nfollowing piece of Newgate wit\u2014\n\u201cIf I swing by the string,\nI shall hear the bell ring,\nAnd then there\u2019s an end of poor Jenny.\u201d\nI mention this because it would be worth the observation of any\nprisoner, who shall hereafter fall into the same misfortune, and come\nto that dreadful place of Newgate, how time, necessity, and conversing\nwith the wretches that are there familiarizes the place to them; how at\nlast they become reconciled to that which at first was the greatest\ndread upon their spirits in the world, and are as impudently cheerful\nand merry in their misery as they were when out of it.\nI cannot say, as some do, this devil is not so black as he is painted;\nfor indeed no colours can represent the place to the life, not any soul\nconceive aright of it but those who have been sufferers there. But how\nhell should become by degree so natural, and not only tolerable, but\neven agreeable, is a thing unintelligible but by those who have\nexperienced it, as I have.\nThe same night that I was sent to Newgate, I sent the news of it to my\nold governess, who was surprised at it, you may be sure, and spent the\nnight almost as ill out of Newgate, as I did in it.\nThe next morning she came to see me; she did what she could to comfort\nme, but she saw that was to no purpose; however, as she said, to sink\nunder the weight was but to increase the weight; she immediately\napplied herself to all the proper methods to prevent the effects of it,\nwhich we feared, and first she found out the two fiery jades that had\nsurprised me. She tampered with them, offered them money, and, in a\nword, tried all imaginable ways to prevent a prosecution; she offered\none of the wenches \u00a3100 to go away from her mistress, and not to appear\nagainst me, but she was so resolute, that though she was but a servant\nmaid at \u00a33 a year wages or thereabouts, she refused it, and would have\nrefused it, as my governess said she believed, if she had offered her\n\u00a3500. Then she attacked the other maid; she was not so hard-hearted in\nappearance as the other, and sometimes seemed inclined to be merciful;\nbut the first wench kept her up, and changed her mind, and would not so\nmuch as let my governess talk with her, but threatened to have her up\nfor tampering with the evidence.\nThen she applied to the master, that is to say, the man whose goods had\nbeen stolen, and particularly to his wife, who, as I told you, was\ninclined at first to have some compassion for me; she found the woman\nthe same still, but the man alleged he was bound by the justice that\ncommitted me, to prosecute, and that he should forfeit his\nrecognisance.\nMy governess offered to find friends that should get his recognisances\noff of the file, as they call it, and that he should not suffer; but it\nwas not possible to convince him that could be done, or that he could\nbe safe any way in the world but by appearing against me; so I was to\nhave three witnesses of fact against me, the master and his two maids;\nthat is to say, I was as certain to be cast for my life as I was\ncertain that I was alive, and I had nothing to do but to think of\ndying, and prepare for it. I had but a sad foundation to build upon, as\nI said before, for all my repentance appeared to me to be only the\neffect of my fear of death, not a sincere regret for the wicked life\nthat I had lived, and which had brought this misery upon me, for the\noffending my Creator, who was now suddenly to be my judge.\nI lived many days here under the utmost horror of soul; I had death, as\nit were, in view, and thought of nothing night and day, but of gibbets\nand halters, evil spirits and devils; it is not to be expressed by\nwords how I was harassed, between the dreadful apprehensions of death\nand the terror of my conscience reproaching me with my past horrible\nlife.\nThe ordinary of Newgate came to me, and talked a little in his way, but\nall his divinity ran upon confessing my crime, as he called it (though\nhe knew not what I was in for), making a full discovery, and the like,\nwithout which he told me God would never forgive me; and he said so\nlittle to the purpose, that I had no manner of consolation from him;\nand then to observe the poor creature preaching confession and\nrepentance to me in the morning, and find him drunk with brandy and\nspirits by noon, this had something in it so shocking, that I began to\nnauseate the man more than his work, and his work too by degrees, for\nthe sake of the man; so that I desired him to trouble me no more.\nI know not how it was, but by the indefatigable application of my\ndiligent governess I had no bill preferred against me the first\nsessions, I mean to the grand jury, at Guildhall; so I had another\nmonth or five weeks before me, and without doubt this ought to have\nbeen accepted by me, as so much time given me for reflection upon what\nwas past, and preparation for what was to come; or, in a word, I ought\nto have esteemed it as a space given me for repentance, and have\nemployed it as such, but it was not in me. I was sorry (as before) for\nbeing in Newgate, but had very few signs of repentance about me.\nOn the contrary, like the waters in the cavities and hollows of\nmountains, which petrify and turn into stone whatever they are suffered\nto drop on, so the continual conversing with such a crew of hell-hounds\nas I was, had the same common operation upon me as upon other people. I\ndegenerated into stone; I turned first stupid and senseless, then\nbrutish and thoughtless, and at last raving mad as any of them were;\nand, in short, I became as naturally pleased and easy with the place,\nas if indeed I had been born there.\nIt is scarce possible to imagine that our natures should be capable of\nso much degeneracy, as to make that pleasant and agreeable that in\nitself is the most complete misery. Here was a circumstance that I\nthink it is scarce possible to mention a worse: I was as exquisitely\nmiserable as, speaking of common cases, it was possible for any one to\nbe that had life and health, and money to help them, as I had.\nI had weight of guilt upon me enough to sink any creature who had the\nleast power of reflection left, and had any sense upon them of the\nhappiness of this life, of the misery of another; then I had at first\nremorse indeed, but no repentance; I had now neither remorse nor\nrepentance. I had a crime charged on me, the punishment of which was\ndeath by our law; the proof so evident, that there was no room for me\nso much as to plead not guilty. I had the name of an old offender, so\nthat I had nothing to expect but death in a few weeks\u2019 time, neither\nhad I myself any thoughts of escaping; and yet a certain strange\nlethargy of soul possessed me. I had no trouble, no apprehensions, no\nsorrow about me, the first surprise was gone; I was, I may well say, I\nknow not how; my senses, my reason, nay, my conscience, were all\nasleep; my course of life for forty years had been a horrid\ncomplication of wickedness, whoredom, adultery, incest, lying, theft;\nand, in a word, everything but murder and treason had been my practice\nfrom the age of eighteen, or thereabouts, to three-score; and now I was\nengulfed in the misery of punishment, and had an infamous death just at\nthe door, and yet I had no sense of my condition, no thought of heaven\nor hell at least, that went any farther than a bare flying touch, like\nthe stitch or pain that gives a hint and goes off. I neither had a\nheart to ask God\u2019s mercy, nor indeed to think of it. And in this, I\nthink, I have given a brief description of the completest misery on\nearth.\nAll my terrifying thoughts were past, the horrors of the place were\nbecome familiar, and I felt no more uneasiness at the noise and\nclamours of the prison, than they did who made that noise; in a word, I\nwas become a mere Newgate-bird, as wicked and as outrageous as any of\nthem; nay, I scarce retained the habit and custom of good breeding and\nmanners, which all along till now ran through my conversation; so\nthorough a degeneracy had possessed me, that I was no more the same\nthing that I had been, than if I had never been otherwise than what I\nwas now.\nIn the middle of this hardened part of my life I had another sudden\nsurprise, which called me back a little to that thing called sorrow,\nwhich indeed I began to be past the sense of before. They told me one\nnight that there was brought into the prison late the night before\nthree highwaymen, who had committed robbery somewhere on the road to\nWindsor, Hounslow Heath, I think it was, and were pursued to Uxbridge\nby the country, and were taken there after a gallant resistance, in\nwhich I know not how many of the country people were wounded, and some\nkilled.\nIt is not to be wondered that we prisoners were all desirous enough to\nsee these brave, topping gentlemen, that were talked up to be such as\ntheir fellows had not been known, and especially because it was said\nthey would in the morning be removed into the press-yard, having given\nmoney to the head master of the prison, to be allowed the liberty of\nthat better part of the prison. So we that were women placed ourselves\nin the way, that we would be sure to see them; but nothing could\nexpress the amazement and surprise I was in, when the very first man\nthat came out I knew to be my Lancashire husband, the same who lived so\nwell at Dunstable, and the same who I afterwards saw at Brickhill, when\nI was married to my last husband, as has been related.\nI was struck dumb at the sight, and knew neither what to say nor what\nto do; he did not know me, and that was all the present relief I had. I\nquitted my company, and retired as much as that dreadful place suffers\nanybody to retire, and I cried vehemently for a great while. \u201cDreadful\ncreature that I am,\u201d said I, \u201chow many poor people have I made\nmiserable? How many desperate wretches have I sent to the devil?\u201d He\nhad told me at Chester he was ruined by that match, and that his\nfortunes were made desperate on my account; for that thinking I had\nbeen a fortune, he was run into debt more than he was able to pay, and\nthat he knew not what course to take; that he would go into the army\nand carry a musket, or buy a horse and take a tour, as he called it;\nand though I never told him that I was a fortune, and so did not\nactually deceive him myself, yet I did encourage the having it thought\nthat I was so, and by that means I was the occasion originally of his\nmischief.\nThe surprise of the thing only struck deeper into my thoughts, and gave\nme stronger reflections than all that had befallen me before. I grieved\nday and night for him, and the more for that they told me he was the\ncaptain of the gang, and that he had committed so many robberies, that\nHind, or Whitney, or the Golden Farmer were fools to him; that he would\nsurely be hanged if there were no more men left in the country he was\nborn in; and that there would abundance of people come in against him.\nI was overwhelmed with grief for him; my own case gave me no\ndisturbance compared to this, and I loaded myself with reproaches on\nhis account. I bewailed his misfortunes, and the ruin he was now come\nto, at such a rate, that I relished nothing now as I did before, and\nthe first reflections I made upon the horrid, detestable life I had\nlived began to return upon me, and as these things returned, my\nabhorrence of the place I was in, and of the way of living in it,\nreturned also; in a word, I was perfectly changed, and become another\nbody.\nWhile I was under these influences of sorrow for him, came notice to me\nthat the next sessions approaching there would be a bill preferred to\nthe grand jury against me, and that I should be certainly tried for my\nlife at the Old Bailey. My temper was touched before, the hardened,\nwretched boldness of spirit which I had acquired abated, and conscious\nin the prison, guilt began to flow in upon my mind. In short, I began\nto think, and to think is one real advance from hell to heaven. All\nthat hellish, hardened state and temper of soul, which I have said so\nmuch of before, is but a deprivation of thought; he that is restored to\nhis power of thinking, is restored to himself.\nAs soon as I began, I say, to think, the first think that occurred to\nme broke out thus: \u201cLord! what will become of me? I shall certainly\ndie! I shall be cast, to be sure, and there is nothing beyond that but\ndeath! I have no friends; what shall I do? I shall be certainly cast!\nLord, have mercy upon me! What will become of me?\u201d This was a sad\nthought, you will say, to be the first, after so long a time, that had\nstarted into my soul of that kind, and yet even this was nothing but\nfright at what was to come; there was not a word of sincere repentance\nin it all. However, I was indeed dreadfully dejected, and disconsolate\nto the last degree; and as I had no friend in the world to communicate\nmy distressed thoughts to, it lay so heavy upon me, that it threw me\ninto fits and swoonings several times a day. I sent for my old\ngoverness, and she, give her her due, acted the part of a true friend.\nShe left no stone unturned to prevent the grand jury finding the bill.\nShe sought out one or two of the jurymen, talked with them, and\nendeavoured to possess them with favourable dispositions, on account\nthat nothing was taken away, and no house broken, etc.; but all would\nnot do, they were over-ruled by the rest; the two wenches swore home to\nthe fact, and the jury found the bill against me for robbery and\nhouse-breaking, that is, for felony and burglary.\nI sunk down when they brought me news of it, and after I came to myself\nagain, I thought I should have died with the weight of it. My governess\nacted a true mother to me; she pitied me, she cried with me, and for\nme, but she could not help me; and to add to the terror of it, \u2019twas\nthe discourse all over the house that I should die for it. I could hear\nthem talk it among themselves very often, and see them shake their\nheads and say they were sorry for it, and the like, as is usual in the\nplace. But still nobody came to tell me their thoughts, till at last\none of the keepers came to me privately, and said with a sigh, \u201cWell,\nMrs. Flanders, you will be tried on Friday\u201d (.);\n\u201cwhat do you intend to do?\u201d I turned as white as a clout, and said,\n\u201cGod knows what I shall do; for my part, I know not what to do.\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cI won\u2019t flatter you, I would have you prepare for death, for\nI doubt you will be cast; and as they say you are an old offender, I\ndoubt you will find but little mercy. They say,\u201d added he, \u201cyour case\nis very plain, and that the witnesses swear so home against you, there\nwill be no standing it.\u201d\nThis was a stab into the very vitals of one under such a burthen as I\nwas oppressed with before, and I could not speak to him a word, good or\nbad, for a great while; but at last I burst out into tears, and said to\nhim, \u201cLord! Mr. \u2014\u2014, what must I do?\u201d \u201cDo!\u201d says he, \u201csend for the\nordinary; send for a minister and talk with him; for, indeed, Mrs.\nFlanders, unless you have very good friends, you are no woman for this\nworld.\u201d\nThis was plain dealing indeed, but it was very harsh to me, at least I\nthought it so. He left me in the greatest confusion imaginable, and all\nthat night I lay awake. And now I began to say my prayers, which I had\nscarce done before since my last husband\u2019s death, or from a little\nwhile after. And truly I may well call it saying my prayers, for I was\nin such a confusion, and had such horror upon my mind, that though I\ncried, and repeated several times the ordinary expression of \u201cLord,\nhave mercy upon me!\u201d I never brought myself to any sense of my being a\nmiserable sinner, as indeed I was, and of confessing my sins to God,\nand begging pardon for the sake of Jesus Christ. I was overwhelmed with\nthe sense of my condition, being tried for my life, and being sure to\nbe condemned, and then I was as sure to be executed, and on this\naccount I cried out all night, \u201cLord, what will become of me? Lord!\nwhat shall I do? Lord! I shall be hanged! Lord, have mercy upon me!\u201d\nand the like.\nMy poor afflicted governess was now as much concerned as I, and a great\ndeal more truly penitent, though she had no prospect of being brought\nto trial and sentence. Not but that she deserved it as much as I, and\nso she said herself; but she had not done anything herself for many\nyears, other than receiving what I and others stole, and encouraging us\nto steal it. But she cried, and took on like a distracted body,\nwringing her hands, and crying out that she was undone, that she\nbelieved there was a curse from heaven upon her, that she should be\ndamned, that she had been the destruction of all her friends, that she\nhad brought such a one, and such a one, and such a one to the gallows;\nand there she reckoned up ten or eleven people, some of which I have\ngiven account of, that came to untimely ends; and that now she was the\noccasion of my ruin, for she had persuaded me to go on, when I would\nhave left off. I interrupted her there. \u201cNo, mother, no,\u201d said I,\n\u201cdon\u2019t speak of that, for you would have had me left off when I got the\nmercer\u2019s money again, and when I came home from Harwich, and I would\nnot hearken to you; therefore you have not been to blame; it is I only\nhave ruined myself, I have brought myself to this misery\u201d; and thus we\nspent many hours together.\nWell, there was no remedy; the prosecution went on, and on the Thursday\nI was carried down to the sessions-house, where I was arraigned, as\nthey called it, and the next day I was appointed to be tried. At the\narraignment I pleaded \u201cNot guilty,\u201d and well I might, for I was\nindicted for felony and burglary; that is, for feloniously stealing two\npieces of brocaded silk, value \u00a346, the goods of Anthony Johnson, and\nfor breaking open his doors; whereas I knew very well they could not\npretend to prove I had broken up the doors, or so much as lifted up a\nlatch.\nOn the Friday I was brought to my trial. I had exhausted my spirits\nwith crying for two or three days before, so that I slept better the\nThursday night than I expected, and had more courage for my trial than\nindeed I thought possible for me to have.\nWhen the trial began, the indictment was read, I would have spoke, but\nthey told me the witnesses must be heard first, and then I should have\ntime to be heard. The witnesses were the two wenches, a couple of\nhard-mouthed jades indeed, for though the thing was truth in the main,\nyet they aggravated it to the utmost extremity, and swore I had the\ngoods wholly in my possession, that I had hid them among my clothes,\nthat I was going off with them, that I had one foot over the threshold\nwhen they discovered themselves, and then I put t\u2019 other over, so that\nI was quite out of the house in the street with the goods before they\ntook hold of me, and then they seized me, and brought me back again,\nand they took the goods upon me. The fact in general was all true, but\nI believe, and insisted upon it, that they stopped me before I had set\nmy foot clear of the threshold of the house. But that did not argue\nmuch, for certain it was that I had taken the goods, and I was bringing\nthem away, if I had not been taken.\nBut I pleaded that I had stole nothing, they had lost nothing, that the\ndoor was open, and I went in, seeing the goods lie there, and with\ndesign to buy. If, seeing nobody in the house, I had taken any of them\nup in my hand it could not be concluded that I intended to steal them,\nfor that I never carried them farther than the door to look on them\nwith the better light.\nThe Court would not allow that by any means, and made a kind of a jest\nof my intending to buy the goods, that being no shop for the selling of\nanything, and as to carrying them to the door to look at them, the\nmaids made their impudent mocks upon that, and spent their wit upon it\nvery much; told the Court I had looked at them sufficiently, and\napproved them very well, for I had packed them up under my clothes, and\nwas a-going with them.\nIn short, I was found guilty of felony, but acquitted of the burglary,\nwhich was but small comfort to me, the first bringing me to a sentence\nof death, and the last would have done no more. The next day I was\ncarried down to receive the dreadful sentence, and when they came to\nask me what I had to say why sentence should not pass, I stood mute a\nwhile, but somebody that stood behind me prompted me aloud to speak to\nthe judges, for that they could represent things favourably for me.\nThis encouraged me to speak, and I told them I had nothing to say to\nstop the sentence, but that I had much to say to bespeak the mercy of\nthe Court; that I hoped they would allow something in such a case for\nthe circumstances of it; that I had broken no doors, had carried\nnothing off; that nobody had lost anything; that the person whose goods\nthey were was pleased to say he desired mercy might be shown (which\nindeed he very honestly did); that, at the worst, it was the first\noffence, and that I had never been before any court of justice before;\nand, in a word, I spoke with more courage that I thought I could have\ndone, and in such a moving tone, and though with tears, yet not so many\ntears as to obstruct my speech, that I could see it moved others to\ntears that heard me.\nThe judges sat grave and mute, gave me an easy hearing, and time to say\nall that I would, but, saying neither Yes nor No to it, pronounced the\nsentence of death upon me, a sentence that was to me like death itself,\nwhich, after it was read, confounded me. I had no more spirit left in\nme, I had no tongue to speak, or eyes to look up either to God or man.\nMy poor governess was utterly disconsolate, and she that was my\ncomforter before, wanted comfort now herself; and sometimes mourning,\nsometimes raging, was as much out of herself, as to all outward\nappearance, as any mad woman in Bedlam. Nor was she only disconsolate\nas to me, but she was struck with horror at the sense of her own wicked\nlife, and began to look back upon it with a taste quite different from\nmine, for she was penitent to the highest degree for her sins, as well\nas sorrowful for the misfortune. She sent for a minister, too, a\nserious, pious, good man, and applied herself with such earnestness, by\nhis assistance, to the work of a sincere repentance, that I believe,\nand so did the minister too, that she was a true penitent; and, which\nis still more, she was not only so for the occasion, and at that\njuncture, but she continued so, as I was informed, to the day of her\ndeath.\nIt is rather to be thought of than expressed what was now my condition.\nI had nothing before me but present death; and as I had no friends to\nassist me, or to stir for me, I expected nothing but to find my name in\nthe dead warrant, which was to come down for the execution, the Friday\nafterwards, of five more and myself.\nIn the meantime my poor distressed governess sent me a minister, who at\nher request first, and at my own afterwards, came to visit me. He\nexhorted me seriously to repent of all my sins, and to dally no longer\nwith my soul; not flattering myself with hopes of life, which, he said,\nhe was informed there was no room to expect, but unfeignedly to look up\nto God with my whole soul, and to cry for pardon in the name of Jesus\nChrist. He backed his discourses with proper quotations of Scripture,\nencouraging the greatest sinner to repent, and turn from their evil\nway, and when he had done, he kneeled down and prayed with me.\nIt was now that, for the first time, I felt any real signs of\nrepentance. I now began to look back upon my past life with abhorrence,\nand having a kind of view into the other side of time, and things of\nlife, as I believe they do with everybody at such a time, began to look\nwith a different aspect, and quite another shape, than they did before.\nThe greatest and best things, the views of felicity, the joy, the\ngriefs of life, were quite other things; and I had nothing in my\nthoughts but what was so infinitely superior to what I had known in\nlife, that it appeared to me to be the greatest stupidity in nature to\nlay any weight upon anything, though the most valuable in this world.\nThe word eternity represented itself with all its incomprehensible\nadditions, and I had such extended notions of it, that I know not how\nto express them. Among the rest, how vile, how gross, how absurd did\nevery pleasant thing look!\u2014I mean, that we had counted pleasant\nbefore\u2014especially when I reflected that these sordid trifles were the\nthings for which we forfeited eternal felicity.\nWith these reflections came, of mere course, severe reproaches of my\nown mind for my wretched behaviour in my past life; that I had\nforfeited all hope of any happiness in the eternity that I was just\ngoing to enter into, and on the contrary was entitled to all that was\nmiserable, or had been conceived of misery; and all this with the\nfrightful addition of its being also eternal.\nI am not capable of reading lectures of instruction to anybody, but I\nrelate this in the very manner in which things then appeared to me, as\nfar as I am able, but infinitely short of the lively impressions which\nthey made on my soul at that time; indeed, those impressions are not to\nbe explained by words, or if they are, I am not mistress of words\nenough to express them. It must be the work of every sober reader to\nmake just reflections on them, as their own circumstances may direct;\nand, without question, this is what every one at some time or other may\nfeel something of; I mean, a clearer sight into things to come than\nthey had here, and a dark view of their own concern in them.\nBut I go back to my own case. The minister pressed me to tell him, as\nfar as I thought convenient, in what state I found myself as to the\nsight I had of things beyond life. He told me he did not come as\nordinary of the place, whose business it is to extort confessions from\nprisoners, for private ends, or for the further detecting of other\noffenders; that his business was to move me to such freedom of\ndiscourse as might serve to disburthen my own mind, and furnish him to\nadminister comfort to me as far as was in his power; and assured me,\nthat whatever I said to him should remain with him, and be as much a\nsecret as if it was known only to God and myself; and that he desired\nto know nothing of me, but as above to qualify him to apply proper\nadvice and assistance to me, and to pray to God for me.\nThis honest, friendly way of treating me unlocked all the sluices of my\npassions. He broke into my very soul by it; and I unravelled all the\nwickedness of my life to him. In a word, I gave him an abridgment of\nthis whole history; I gave him a picture of my conduct for fifty years\nin miniature.\nI hid nothing from him, and he in return exhorted me to sincere\nrepentance, explained to me what he meant by repentance, and then drew\nout such a scheme of infinite mercy, proclaimed from heaven to sinners\nof the greatest magnitude, that he left me nothing to say, that looked\nlike despair, or doubting of being accepted; and in this condition he\nleft me the first night.\nHe visited me again the next morning, and went on with his method of\nexplaining the terms of divine mercy, which according to him consisted\nof nothing more, or more difficult, than that of being sincerely\ndesirous of it, and willing to accept it; only a sincere regret for,\nand hatred of, those things I had done, which rendered me so just an\nobject of divine vengeance. I am not able to repeat the excellent\ndiscourses of this extraordinary man; \u2019tis all that I am able to do, to\nsay that he revived my heart, and brought me into such a condition that\nI never knew anything of in my life before. I was covered with shame\nand tears for things past, and yet had at the same time a secret\nsurprising joy at the prospect of being a true penitent, and obtaining\nthe comfort of a penitent\u2014I mean, the hope of being forgiven; and so\nswift did thoughts circulate, and so high did the impressions they had\nmade upon me run, that I thought I could freely have gone out that\nminute to execution, without any uneasiness at all, casting my soul\nentirely into the arms of infinite mercy as a penitent.\nThe good gentleman was so moved also in my behalf with a view of the\ninfluence which he saw these things had on me, that he blessed God he\nhad come to visit me, and resolved not to leave me till the last\nmoment; that is, not to leave visiting me.\nIt was no less than twelve days after our receiving sentence before any\nwere ordered for execution, and then upon a Wednesday the dead warrant,\nas they call it, came down, and I found my name was among them. A\nterrible blow this was to my new resolutions; indeed my heart sank\nwithin me, and I swooned away twice, one after another, but spoke not a\nword. The good minister was sorely afflicted for me, and did what he\ncould to comfort me with the same arguments, and the same moving\neloquence that he did before, and left me not that evening so long as\nthe prisonkeepers would suffer him to stay in the prison, unless he\nwould be locked up with me all night, which he was not willing to be.\nI wondered much that I did not see him all the next day, it being the\nday before the time appointed for execution; and I was greatly\ndiscouraged, and dejected in my mind, and indeed almost sank for want\nof the comfort which he had so often, and with such success, yielded me\non his former visits. I waited with great impatience, and under the\ngreatest oppressions of spirits imaginable, till about four o\u2019clock he\ncame to my apartment; for I had obtained the favour, by the help of\nmoney, nothing being to be done in that place without it, not to be\nkept in the condemned hole, as they call it, among the rest of the\nprisoners who were to die, but to have a little dirty chamber to\nmyself.\nMy heart leaped within me for joy when I heard his voice at the door,\neven before I saw him; but let any one judge what kind of motion I\nfound in my soul, when after having made a short excuse for his not\ncoming, he showed me that his time had been employed on my account;\nthat he had obtained a favourable report from the Recorder to the\nSecretary of State in my particular case, and, in short, that he had\nbrought me a reprieve.\nHe used all the caution that he was able in letting me know a thing\nwhich it would have been a double cruelty to have concealed; and yet it\nwas too much for me; for as grief had overset me before, so did joy\noverset me now, and I fell into a much more dangerous swooning than I\ndid at first, and it was not without a great difficulty that I was\nrecovered at all.\nThe good man having made a very Christian exhortation to me, not to let\nthe joy of my reprieve put the remembrance of my past sorrow out of my\nmind, and having told me that he must leave me, to go and enter the\nreprieve in the books, and show it to the sheriffs, stood up just\nbefore his going away, and in a very earnest manner prayed to God for\nme, that my repentance might be made unfeigned and sincere; and that my\ncoming back, as it were, into life again, might not be a returning to\nthe follies of life which I had made such solemn resolutions to\nforsake, and to repent of them. I joined heartily in the petition, and\nmust needs say I had deeper impressions upon my mind all that night, of\nthe mercy of God in sparing my life, and a greater detestation of my\npast sins, from a sense of the goodness which I had tasted in this\ncase, than I had in all my sorrow before.\nThis may be thought inconsistent in itself, and wide from the business\nof this book; particularly, I reflect that many of those who may be\npleased and diverted with the relation of the wild and wicked part of\nmy story may not relish this, which is really the best part of my life,\nthe most advantageous to myself, and the most instructive to others.\nSuch, however, will, I hope, allow me the liberty to make my story\ncomplete. It would be a severe satire on such to say they do not relish\nthe repentance as much as they do the crime; and that they had rather\nthe history were a complete tragedy, as it was very likely to have\nbeen.\nBut I go on with my relation. The next morning there was a sad scene\nindeed in the prison. The first thing I was saluted with in the morning\nwas the tolling of the great bell at St. Sepulchre\u2019s, as they call it,\nwhich ushered in the day. As soon as it began to toll, a dismal\ngroaning and crying was heard from the condemned hole, where there lay\nsix poor souls who were to be executed that day, some from one crime,\nsome for another, and two of them for murder.\nThis was followed by a confused clamour in the house, among the several\nsorts of prisoners, expressing their awkward sorrows for the poor\ncreatures that were to die, but in a manner extremely differing one\nfrom another. Some cried for them; some huzzaed, and wished them a good\njourney; some damned and cursed those that had brought them to it\u2014that\nis, meaning the evidence, or prosecutors\u2014many pitying them, and some\nfew, but very few, praying for them.\nThere was hardly room for so much composure of mind as was required for\nme to bless the merciful Providence that had, as it were, snatched me\nout of the jaws of this destruction. I remained, as it were, dumb and\nsilent, overcome with the sense of it, and not able to express what I\nhad in my heart; for the passions on such occasions as these are\ncertainly so agitated as not to be able presently to regulate their own\nmotions.\nAll the while the poor condemned creatures were preparing to their\ndeath, and the ordinary, as they call him, was busy with them,\ndisposing them to submit to their sentence\u2014I say, all this while I was\nseized with a fit of trembling, as much as I could have been if I had\nbeen in the same condition, as to be sure the day before I expected to\nbe; I was so violently agitated by this surprising fit, that I shook as\nif it had been in the cold fit of an ague, so that I could not speak or\nlook but like one distracted. As soon as they were all put into carts\nand gone, which, however, I had not courage enough to see\u2014I say, as\nsoon as they were gone, I fell into a fit of crying involuntarily, and\nwithout design, but as a mere distemper, and yet so violent, and it\nheld me so long, that I knew not what course to take, nor could I stop,\nor put a check to it, no, not with all the strength and courage I had.\nThis fit of crying held me near two hours, and, as I believe, held me\ntill they were all out of the world, and then a most humble, penitent,\nserious kind of joy succeeded; a real transport it was, or passion of\njoy and thankfulness, but still unable to give vent to it by words, and\nin this I continued most part of the day.\nIn the evening the good minister visited me again, and then fell to his\nusual good discourses. He congratulated my having a space yet allowed\nme for repentance, whereas the state of those six poor creatures was\ndetermined, and they were now past the offers of salvation; he\nearnestly pressed me to retain the same sentiments of the things of\nlife that I had when I had a view of eternity; and at the end of all\ntold me I should not conclude that all was over, that a reprieve was\nnot a pardon, that he could not yet answer for the effects of it;\nhowever, I had this mercy, that I had more time given me, and that it\nwas my business to improve that time.\nThis discourse, though very seasonable, left a kind of sadness on my\nheart, as if I might expect the affair would have a tragical issue\nstill, which, however, he had no certainty of; and I did not indeed, at\nthat time, question him about it, he having said that he would do his\nutmost to bring it to a good end, and that he hoped he might, but he\nwould not have me be secure; and the consequence proved that he had\nreason for what he said.\nIt was about a fortnight after this that I had some just apprehensions\nthat I should be included in the next dead warrant at the ensuing\nsessions; and it was not without great difficulty, and at last a humble\npetition for transportation, that I avoided it, so ill was I beholding\nto fame, and so prevailing was the fatal report of being an old\noffender; though in that they did not do me strict justice, for I was\nnot in the sense of the law an old offender, whatever I was in the eye\nof the judge, for I had never been before them in a judicial way\nbefore; so the judges could not charge me with being an old offender,\nbut the Recorder was pleased to represent my case as he thought fit.\nI had now a certainty of life indeed, but with the hard conditions of\nbeing ordered for transportation, which indeed was hard condition in\nitself, but not when comparatively considered; and therefore I shall\nmake no comments upon the sentence, nor upon the choice I was put to.\nWe shall all choose anything rather than death, especially when \u2019tis\nattended with an uncomfortable prospect beyond it, which was my case.\nThe good minister, whose interest, though a stranger to me, had\nobtained me the reprieve, mourned sincerely for this part. He was in\nhopes, he said, that I should have ended my days under the influence of\ngood instruction, that I should not have been turned loose again among\nsuch a wretched crew as they generally are, who are thus sent abroad,\nwhere, as he said, I must have more than ordinary secret assistance\nfrom the grace of God, if I did not turn as wicked again as ever.\nI have not for a good while mentioned my governess, who had during\nmost, if not all, of this part been dangerously sick, and being in as\nnear a view of death by her disease as I was by my sentence, was a\ngreat penitent\u2014I say, I have not mentioned her, nor indeed did I see\nher in all this time; but being now recovering, and just able to come\nabroad, she came to see me.\nI told her my condition, and what a different flux and reflux of tears\nand hopes I had been agitated with; I told her what I had escaped, and\nupon what terms; and she was present when the minister expressed his\nfears of my relapsing into wickedness upon my falling into the wretched\ncompanies that are generally transported. Indeed I had a melancholy\nreflection upon it in my own mind, for I knew what a dreadful gang was\nalways sent away together, and I said to my governess that the good\nminister\u2019s fears were not without cause. \u201cWell, well,\u201d says she, \u201cbut I\nhope you will not be tempted with such a horrid example as that.\u201d And\nas soon as the minister was gone, she told me she would not have me\ndiscouraged, for perhaps ways and means might be found out to dispose\nof me in a particular way, by myself, of which she would talk further\nto me afterward.\nI looked earnestly at her, and I thought she looked more cheerful than\nshe usually had done, and I entertained immediately a thousand notions\nof being delivered, but could not for my life image the methods, or\nthink of one that was in the least feasible; but I was too much\nconcerned in it to let her go from me without explaining herself,\nwhich, though she was very loth to do, yet my importunity prevailed,\nand, while I was still pressing, she answered me in a few words, thus:\n\u201cWhy, you have money, have you not? Did you ever know one in your life\nthat was transported and had a hundred pounds in his pocket, I\u2019ll\nwarrant you, child?\u201d says she.\nI understood her presently, but told her I would leave all that to her,\nbut I saw no room to hope for anything but a strict execution of the\norder, and as it was a severity that was esteemed a mercy, there was no\ndoubt but it would be strictly observed. She said no more but this: \u201cWe\nwill try what can be done,\u201d and so we parted for that night.\nI lay in the prison near fifteen weeks after this order for\ntransportation was signed. What the reason of it was, I know not, but\nat the end of this time I was put on board of a ship in the Thames, and\nwith me a gang of thirteen as hardened vile creatures as ever Newgate\nproduced in my time; and it would really well take up a history longer\nthan mine to describe the degrees of impudence and audacious villainy\nthat those thirteen were arrived to, and the manner of their behaviour\nin the voyage; of which I have a very diverting account by me, which\nthe captain of the ship who carried them over gave me the minutes of,\nand which he caused his mate to write down at large.\nIt may perhaps be thought trifling to enter here into a relation of all\nthe little incidents which attended me in this interval of my\ncircumstances; I mean, between the final order of my transportation and\nthe time of my going on board the ship; and I am too near the end of my\nstory to allow room for it; but something relating to me and my\nLancashire husband I must not omit.\nHe had, as I have observed already, been carried from the master\u2019s side\nof the ordinary prison into the press-yard, with three of his comrades,\nfor they found another to add to them after some time; here, for what\nreason I knew not, they were kept in custody without being brought to\ntrial almost three months. It seems they found means to bribe or buy\noff some of those who were expected to come in against them, and they\nwanted evidence for some time to convict them. After some puzzle on\nthis account, at first they made a shift to get proof enough against\ntwo of them to carry them off; but the other two, of which my\nLancashire husband was one, lay still in suspense. They had, I think,\none positive evidence against each of them, but the law strictly\nobliging them to have two witnesses, they could make nothing of it. Yet\nit seems they were resolved not to part with the men neither, not\ndoubting but a further evidence would at last come in; and in order to\nthis, I think publication was made, that such prisoners being taken,\nany one that had been robbed by them might come to the prison and see\nthem.\nI took this opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, pretending that I had\nbeen robbed in the Dunstable coach, and that I would go to see the two\nhighwaymen. But when I came into the press-yard, I so disguised myself,\nand muffled my face up so, that he could see little of me, and\nconsequently knew nothing of who I was; and when I came back, I said\npublicly that I knew them very well.\nImmediately it was rumoured all over the prison that Moll Flanders\nwould turn evidence against one of the highwaymen, and that I was to\ncome off by it from the sentence of transportation.\nThey heard of it, and immediately my husband desired to see this Mrs.\nFlanders that knew him so well, and was to be an evidence against him;\nand accordingly I had leave given to go to him. I dressed myself up as\nwell as the best clothes that I suffered myself ever to appear in there\nwould allow me, and went to the press-yard, but had for some time a\nhood over my face. He said little to me at first, but asked me if I\nknew him. I told him, Yes, very well; but as I concealed my face, so I\ncounterfeited my voice, that he had not the least guess at who I was.\nHe asked me where I had seen him. I told him between Dunstable and\nBrickhill; but turning to the keeper that stood by, I asked if I might\nnot be admitted to talk with him alone. He said Yes, yes, as much as I\npleased, and so very civilly withdrew.\nAs soon as he was gone, I had shut the door, I threw off my hood, and\nbursting out into tears, \u201cMy dear,\u201d says I, \u201cdo you not know me?\u201d He\nturned pale, and stood speechless, like one thunderstruck, and, not\nable to conquer the surprise, said no more but this, \u201cLet me sit down\u201d;\nand sitting down by a table, he laid his elbow upon the table, and\nleaning his head on his hand, fixed his eyes on the ground as one\nstupid. I cried so vehemently, on the other hand, that it was a good\nwhile ere I could speak any more; but after I had given some vent to my\npassion by tears, I repeated the same words, \u201cMy dear, do you not know\nme?\u201d At which he answered, Yes, and said no more a good while.\nAfter some time continuing in the surprise, as above, he cast up his\neyes towards me and said, \u201cHow could you be so cruel?\u201d I did not\nreadily understand what he meant; and I answered, \u201cHow can you call me\ncruel? What have I been cruel to you in?\u201d \u201cTo come to me,\u201d says he, \u201cin\nsuch a place as this, is it not to insult me? I have not robbed you, at\nleast not on the highway.\u201d\nI perceived by this that he knew nothing of the miserable circumstances\nI was in, and thought that, having got some intelligence of his being\nthere, I had come to upbraid him with his leaving me. But I had too\nmuch to say to him to be affronted, and told him in few words, that I\nwas far from coming to insult him, but at best I came to condole\nmutually; that he would be easily satisfied that I had no such view,\nwhen I should tell him that my condition was worse than his, and that\nmany ways. He looked a little concerned at the general expression of my\ncondition being worse than his, but, with a kind smile, looked a little\nwildly, and said, \u201cHow can that be? When you see me fettered, and in\nNewgate, and two of my companions executed already, how can your your\ncondition be worse than mine?\u201d\n\u201cCome, my dear,\u201d says I, \u201cwe have a long piece of work to do, if I\nshould be to relate, or you to hear, my unfortunate history; but if you\nare disposed to hear it, you will soon conclude with me that my\ncondition is worse than yours.\u201d \u201cHow is that possible,\u201d says he again,\n\u201cwhen I expect to be cast for my life the very next sessions?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d\nsays I, \u201c\u2019tis very possible, when I shall tell you that I have been\ncast for my life three sessions ago, and am under sentence of death; is\nnot my case worse than yours?\u201d\nThen indeed, he stood silent again, like one struck dumb, and after a\nwhile he starts up. \u201cUnhappy couple!\u201d says he. \u201cHow can this be\npossible?\u201d I took him by the hand. \u201cCome, my dear,\u201d said I, \u201csit down,\nand let us compare our sorrows. I am a prisoner in this very house, and\nin much worse circumstances than you, and you will be satisfied I do\nnot come to insult you, when I tell you the particulars.\u201d And with this\nwe sat down together, and I told him so much of my story as I thought\nwas convenient, bringing it at last to my being reduced to great\npoverty, and representing myself as fallen into some company that led\nme to relieve my distresses by way that I had been utterly unacquainted\nwith, and that they making an attempt at a tradesman\u2019s house, I was\nseized upon for having been but just at the door, the maid-servant\npulling me in; that I neither had broke any lock nor taken anything\naway, and that notwithstanding that, I was brought in guilty and\nsentenced to die; but that the judges, having been made sensible of the\nhardship of my circumstances, had obtained leave to remit the sentence\nupon my consenting to be transported.\nI told him I fared the worse for being taken in the prison for one Moll\nFlanders, who was a famous successful thief, that all of them had heard\nof, but none of them had ever seen; but that, as he knew well, was none\nof my name. But I placed all to the account of my ill fortune, and that\nunder this name I was dealt with as an old offender, though this was\nthe first thing they had ever known of me. I gave him a long particular\nof things that had befallen me since I saw him, but I told him if I had\nseen him since he might think I had, and then gave him an account how I\nhad seen him at Brickhill; how furiously he was pursued, and how, by\ngiving an account that I knew him, and that he was a very honest\ngentleman, one Mr. \u2014\u2014, the hue-and-cry was stopped, and the high\nconstable went back again.\nHe listened most attentively to all my story, and smiled at most of the\nparticulars, being all of them petty matters, and infinitely below what\nhe had been at the head of; but when I came to the story of Brickhill,\nhe was surprised. \u201cAnd was it you, my dear,\u201d said he, \u201cthat gave the\ncheck to the mob that was at our heels there, at Brickhill?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cit was I indeed.\u201d And then I told him the particulars which I\nhad observed him there. \u201cWhy, then,\u201d said he, \u201cit was you that saved my\nlife at that time, and I am glad I owe my life to you, for I will pay\nthe debt to you now, and I\u2019ll deliver you from the present condition\nyou are in, or I will die in the attempt.\u201d\nI told him, by no means; it was a risk too great, not worth his running\nthe hazard of, and for a life not worth his saving. \u2019Twas no matter for\nthat, he said, it was a life worth all the world to him; a life that\nhad given him a new life; \u201cfor,\u201d says he, \u201cI was never in real danger\nof being taken, but that time, till the last minute when I was taken.\u201d\nIndeed, he told me his danger then lay in his believing he had not been\npursued that way; for they had gone off from Hockey quite another way,\nand had come over the enclosed country into Brickhill, not by the road,\nand were sure they had not been seen by anybody.\nHere he gave me a long history of his life, which indeed would make a\nvery strange history, and be infinitely diverting. He told me he took\nto the road about twelve years before he married me; that the woman\nwhich called him brother was not really his sister, or any kin to him,\nbut one that belonged to their gang, and who, keeping correspondence\nwith him, lived always in town, having good store of acquaintance; that\nshe gave them a perfect intelligence of persons going out of town, and\nthat they had made several good booties by her correspondence; that she\nthought she had fixed a fortune for him when she brought me to him, but\nhappened to be disappointed, which he really could not blame her for;\nthat if it had been his good luck that I had had the estate, which she\nwas informed I had, he had resolved to leave off the road and live a\nretired, sober life but never to appear in public till some general\npardon had been passed, or till he could, for money, have got his name\ninto some particular pardon, that so he might have been perfectly easy;\nbut that, as it had proved otherwise, he was obliged to put off his\nequipage and take up the old trade again.\nHe gave me a long account of some of his adventures, and particularly\none when he robbed the West Chester coaches near Lichfield, when he got\na very great booty; and after that, how he robbed five graziers, in the\nwest, going to Burford Fair in Wiltshire to buy sheep. He told me he\ngot so much money on those two occasions, that if he had known where to\nhave found me, he would certainly have embraced my proposal of going\nwith me to Virginia, or to have settled in a plantation on some other\nparts of the English colonies in America.\nHe told me he wrote two or three letters to me, directed according to\nmy order, but heard nothing from me. This I indeed knew to be true, but\nthe letters coming to my hand in the time of my latter husband, I could\ndo nothing in it, and therefore chose to give no answer, that so he\nmight rather believe they had miscarried.\nBeing thus disappointed, he said, he carried on the old trade ever\nsince, though when he had gotten so much money, he said, he did not run\nsuch desperate risks as he did before. Then he gave me some account of\nseveral hard and desperate encounters which he had with gentlemen on\nthe road, who parted too hardly with their money, and showed me some\nwounds he had received; and he had one or two very terrible wounds\nindeed, as particularly one by a pistol bullet, which broke his arm,\nand another with a sword, which ran him quite through the body, but\nthat missing his vitals, he was cured again; one of his comrades having\nkept with him so faithfully, and so friendly, as that he assisted him\nin riding near eighty miles before his arm was set, and then got a\nsurgeon in a considerable city, remote from that place where it was\ndone, pretending they were gentlemen travelling towards Carlisle and\nthat they had been attacked on the road by highwaymen, and that one of\nthem had shot him into the arm and broke the bone.\nThis, he said, his friend managed so well, that they were not suspected\nat all, but lay still till he was perfectly cured. He gave me so many\ndistinct accounts of his adventures, that it is with great reluctance\nthat I decline the relating them; but I consider that this is my own\nstory, not his.\nI then inquired into the circumstances of his present case at that\ntime, and what it was he expected when he came to be tried. He told me\nthat they had no evidence against him, or but very little; for that of\nthree robberies, which they were all charged with, it was his good\nfortune that he was but in one of them, and that there was but one\nwitness to be had for that fact, which was not sufficient, but that it\nwas expected some others would come in against him; that he thought\nindeed, when he first saw me, that I had been one that came of that\nerrand; but that if somebody came in against him, he hoped he should be\ncleared; that he had had some intimation, that if he would submit to\ntransport himself, he might be admitted to it without a trial, but that\nhe could not think of it with any temper, and thought he could much\neasier submit to be hanged.\nI blamed him for that, and told him I blamed him on two accounts;\nfirst, because if he was transported, there might be a hundred ways for\nhim that was a gentleman, and a bold enterprising man, to find his way\nback again, and perhaps some ways and means to come back before he\nwent. He smiled at that part, and said he should like the last the best\nof the two, for he had a kind of horror upon his mind at his being sent\nover to the plantations, as Romans sent condemned slaves to work in the\nmines; that he thought the passage into another state, let it be what\nit would, much more tolerable at the gallows, and that this was the\ngeneral notion of all the gentlemen who were driven by the exigence of\ntheir fortunes to take the road; that at the place of execution there\nwas at least an end of all the miseries of the present state, and as\nfor what was to follow, a man was, in his opinion, as likely to repent\nsincerely in the last fortnight of his life, under the pressures and\nagonies of a jail and the condemned hole, as he would ever be in the\nwoods and wilderness of America; that servitude and hard labour were\nthings gentlemen could never stoop to; that it was but the way to force\nthem to be their own executioners afterwards, which was much worse; and\nthat therefore he could not have any patience when he did but think of\nbeing transported.\nI used the utmost of my endeavour to persuade him, and joined that\nknown woman\u2019s rhetoric to it\u2014I mean, that of tears. I told him the\ninfamy of a public execution was certainly a greater pressure upon the\nspirits of a gentleman than any of the mortifications that he could\nmeet with abroad could be; that he had at least in the other a chance\nfor his life, whereas here he had none at all; that it was the easiest\nthing in the world for him to manage the captain of a ship, who were,\ngenerally speaking, men of good-humour and some gallantry; and a small\nmatter of conduct, especially if there was any money to be had, would\nmake way for him to buy himself off when he came to Virginia.\nHe looked wistfully at me, and I thought I guessed at what he meant,\nthat is to say, that he had no money; but I was mistaken, his meaning\nwas another way. \u201cYou hinted just now, my dear,\u201d said he, \u201cthat there\nmight be a way of coming back before I went, by which I understood you\nthat it might be possible to buy it off here. I had rather give \u00a3200 to\nprevent going, than \u00a3100 to be set at liberty when I came there.\u201d \u201cThat\nis, my dear,\u201d said I, \u201cbecause you do not know the place so well as I\ndo.\u201d \u201cThat may be,\u201d said he; \u201cand yet I believe, as well as you know\nit, you would do the same, unless it is because, as you told me, you\nhave a mother there.\u201d\nI told him, as to my mother, it was next to impossible but that she\nmust be dead many years before; and as for any other relations that I\nmight have there, I knew them not now; that since the misfortunes I had\nbeen under had reduced me to the condition I had been in for some\nyears, I had not kept up any correspondence with them; and that he\nwould easily believe, I should find but a cold reception from them if I\nshould be put to make my first visit in the condition of a transported\nfelon; that therefore, if I went thither, I resolved not to see them;\nbut that I had many views in going there, if it should be my fate,\nwhich took off all the uneasy part of it; and if he found himself\nobliged to go also, I should easily instruct him how to manage himself,\nso as never to go a servant at all, especially since I found he was not\ndestitute of money, which was the only friend in such a condition.\nHe smiled, and said he did not tell me he had money. I took him up\nshort, and told him I hoped he did not understand by my speaking, that\nI should expect any supply from him if he had money; that, on the other\nhand, though I had not a great deal, yet I did not want, and while I\nhad any I would rather add to him than weaken him in that article,\nseeing, whatever he had, I knew in the case of transportation he would\nhave occasion of it all.\nHe expressed himself in a most tender manner upon that head. He told me\nwhat money he had was not a great deal, but that he would never hide\nany of it from me if I wanted it, and that he assured me he did not\nspeak with any such apprehensions; that he was only intent upon what I\nhad hinted to him before he went; that here he knew what to do with\nhimself, but that there he should be the most ignorant, helpless wretch\nalive.\nI told him he frighted and terrified himself with that which had no\nterror in it; that if he had money, as I was glad to hear he had, he\nmight not only avoid the servitude supposed to be the consequence of\ntransportation, but begin the world upon a new foundation, and that\nsuch a one as he could not fail of success in, with the common\napplication usual in such cases; that he could not but call to mind\nthat it was what I had recommended to him many years before and had\nproposed it for our mutual subsistence and restoring our fortunes in\nthe world; and I would tell him now, that to convince him both of the\ncertainty of it and of my being fully acquainted with the method, and\nalso fully satisfied in the probability of success, he should first see\nme deliver myself from the necessity of going over at all, and then\nthat I would go with him freely, and of my own choice, and perhaps\ncarry enough with me to satisfy him that I did not offer it for want of\nbeing able to live without assistance from him, but that I thought our\nmutual misfortunes had been such as were sufficient to reconcile us\nboth to quitting this part of the world, and living where nobody could\nupbraid us with what was past, or we be in any dread of a prison, and\nwithout agonies of a condemned hole to drive us to it; this where we\nshould look back on all our past disasters with infinite satisfaction,\nwhen we should consider that our enemies should entirely forget us, and\nthat we should live as new people in a new world, nobody having\nanything to say to us, or we to them.\nI pressed this home to him with so many arguments, and answered all his\nown passionate objections so effectually that he embraced me, and told\nme I treated him with such sincerity and affection as overcame him;\nthat he would take my advice, and would strive to submit to his fate in\nhope of having the comfort of my assistance, and of so faithful a\ncounsellor and such a companion in his misery. But still he put me in\nmind of what I had mentioned before, namely, that there might be some\nway to get off before he went, and that it might be possible to avoid\ngoing at all, which he said would be much better. I told him he should\nsee, and be fully satisfied, that I would do my utmost in that part\ntoo, and if it did not succeed, yet that I would make good the rest.\nWe parted after this long conference with such testimonies of kindness\nand affection as I thought were equal, if not superior, to that at our\nparting at Dunstable; and now I saw more plainly than before, the\nreason why he declined coming at that time any farther with me toward\nLondon than Dunstable, and why, when we parted there, he told me it was\nnot convenient for him to come part of the way to London to bring me\ngoing, as he would otherwise have done. I have observed that the\naccount of his life would have made a much more pleasing history than\nthis of mine; and, indeed, nothing in it was more strange than this\npart, viz. that he carried on that desperate trade full five-and-twenty\nyears and had never been taken, the success he had met with had been so\nvery uncommon, and such that sometimes he had lived handsomely, and\nretired in place for a year or two at a time, keeping himself and a\nman-servant to wait on him, and had often sat in the coffee-houses and\nheard the very people whom he had robbed give accounts of their being\nrobbed, and of the place and circumstances, so that he could easily\nremember that it was the same.\nIn this manner, it seems, he lived near Liverpool at the time he\nunluckily married me for a fortune. Had I been the fortune he expected,\nI verily believe, as he said, that he would have taken up and lived\nhonestly all his days.\nHe had with the rest of his misfortunes the good luck not to be\nactually upon the spot when the robbery was done which he was committed\nfor, and so none of the persons robbed could swear to him, or had\nanything to charge upon him. But it seems as he was taken with the\ngang, one hard-mouthed countryman swore home to him, and they were like\nto have others come in according to the publication they had made; so\nthat they expected more evidence against him, and for that reason he\nwas kept in hold.\nHowever, the offer which was made to him of admitting him to\ntransportation was made, as I understood, upon the intercession of some\ngreat person who pressed him hard to accept of it before a trial; and\nindeed, as he knew there were several that might come in against him, I\nthought his friend was in the right, and I lay at him night and day to\ndelay it no longer.\nAt last, with much difficulty, he gave his consent; and as he was not\ntherefore admitted to transportation in court, and on his petition, as\nI was, so he found himself under a difficulty to avoid embarking\nhimself as I had said he might have done; his great friend, who was his\nintercessor for the favour of that grant, having given security for him\nthat he should transport himself, and not return within the term.\nThis hardship broke all my measures, for the steps I took afterwards\nfor my own deliverance were hereby rendered wholly ineffectual, unless\nI would abandon him, and leave him to go to America by himself; than\nwhich he protested he would much rather venture, although he were\ncertain to go directly to the gallows.\nI must now return to my case. The time of my being transported\naccording to my sentence was near at hand; my governess, who continued\nmy fast friend, had tried to obtain a pardon, but it could not be done\nunless with an expense too heavy for my purse, considering that to be\nleft naked and empty, unless I had resolved to return to my old trade\nagain, had been worse than my transportation, because there I knew I\ncould live, here I could not. The good minister stood very hard on\nanother account to prevent my being transported also; but he was\nanswered, that indeed my life had been given me at his first\nsolicitations, and therefore he ought to ask no more. He was sensibly\ngrieved at my going, because, as he said, he feared I should lose the\ngood impressions which a prospect of death had at first made on me, and\nwhich were since increased by his instructions; and the pious gentleman\nwas exceedingly concerned about me on that account.\nOn the other hand, I really was not so solicitous about it as I was\nbefore, but I industriously concealed my reasons for it from the\nminister, and to the last he did not know but that I went with the\nutmost reluctance and affliction.\nIt was in the month of February that I was, with seven other convicts,\nas they called us, delivered to a merchant that traded to Virginia, on\nboard a ship, riding, as they called it, in Deptford Reach. The officer\nof the prison delivered us on board, and the master of the vessel gave\na discharge for us.\nWe were for that night clapped under hatches, and kept so close that I\nthought I should have been suffocated for want of air; and the next\nmorning the ship weighed, and fell down the river to a place they call\nBugby\u2019s Hole, which was done, as they told us, by the agreement of the\nmerchant, that all opportunity of escape should be taken from us.\nHowever, when the ship came thither and cast anchor, we were allowed\nmore liberty, and particularly were permitted to come up on the deck,\nbut not up on the quarter-deck, that being kept particularly for the\ncaptain and for passengers.\nWhen by the noise of the men over my head, and the motion of the ship,\nI perceived that they were under sail, I was at first greatly\nsurprised, fearing we should go away directly, and that our friends\nwould not be admitted to see us any more; but I was easy soon after,\nwhen I found they had come to an anchor again, and soon after that we\nhad notice given by some of the men where we were, that the next\nmorning we should have the liberty to come up on deck, and to have our\nfriends come and see us if we had any.\nAll that night I lay upon the hard boards of the deck, as the\npassengers did, but we had afterwards the liberty of little cabins for\nsuch of us as had any bedding to lay in them, and room to stow any box\nor trunk for clothes and linen, if we had it (which might well be put\nin), for some of them had neither shirt nor shift or a rag of linen or\nwoollen, but what was on their backs, or a farthing of money to help\nthemselves; and yet I did not find but they fared well enough in the\nship, especially the women, who got money from the seamen for washing\ntheir clothes, sufficient to purchase any common things that they\nwanted.\nWhen the next morning we had the liberty to come up on the deck, I\nasked one of the officers of the ship, whether I might not have the\nliberty to send a letter on shore, to let my friends know where the\nship lay, and to get some necessary things sent to me. This was, it\nseems, the boatswain, a very civil, courteous sort of man, who told me\nI should have that, or any other liberty that I desired, that he could\nallow me with safety. I told him I desired no other; and he answered\nthat the ship\u2019s boat would go up to London the next tide, and he would\norder my letter to be carried.\nAccordingly, when the boat went off, the boatswain came to me and told\nme the boat was going off, and that he went in it himself, and asked me\nif my letter was ready he would take care of it. I had prepared myself,\nyou may be sure, pen, ink, and paper beforehand, and I had gotten a\nletter ready directed to my governess, and enclosed another for my\nfellow-prisoner, which, however, I did not let her know was my husband,\nnot to the last. In that to my governess, I let her know where the ship\nlay, and pressed her earnestly to send me what things I knew she had\ngot ready for me for my voyage.\nWhen I gave the boatswain the letter, I gave him a shilling with it,\nwhich I told him was for the charge of a messenger or porter, which I\nentreated him to send with the letter as soon as he came on shore, that\nif possible I might have an answer brought back by the same hand, that\nI might know what was become of my things; \u201cfor sir,\u201d says I, \u201cif the\nship should go away before I have them on board, I am undone.\u201d\nI took care, when I gave him the shilling, to let him see that I had a\nlittle better furniture about me than the ordinary prisoners, for he\nsaw that I had a purse, and in it a pretty deal of money; and I found\nthat the very sight of it immediately furnished me with very different\ntreatment from what I should otherwise have met with in the ship; for\nthough he was very courteous indeed before, in a kind of natural\ncompassion to me, as a woman in distress, yet he was more than\nordinarily so afterwards, and procured me to be better treated in the\nship than, I say, I might otherwise have been; as shall appear in its\nplace.\nHe very honestly had my letter delivered to my governess\u2019s own hands,\nand brought me back an answer from her in writing; and when he gave me\nthe answer, gave me the shilling again. \u201cThere,\u201d says he, \u201cthere\u2019s your\nshilling again too, for I delivered the letter myself.\u201d I could not\ntell what to say, I was so surprised at the thing; but after some\npause, I said, \u201cSir, you are too kind; it had been but reasonable that\nyou had paid yourself coach-hire, then.\u201d\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d says he, \u201cI am overpaid. What is the gentlewoman? Your\nsister.\u201d\n\u201cNo, sir,\u201d says I, \u201cshe is no relation to me, but she is a dear friend,\nand all the friends I have in the world.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cthere are\nfew such friends in the world. Why, she cried after you like a child.\u201d\n\u201cAy,\u201d says I again, \u201cshe would give a hundred pounds, I believe, to\ndeliver me from this dreadful condition I am in.\u201d\n\u201cWould she so?\u201d says he. \u201cFor half the money I believe I could put you\nin a way how to deliver yourself.\u201d But this he spoke softly, that\nnobody could hear.\n\u201cAlas! sir,\u201d said I, \u201cbut then that must be such a deliverance as, if I\nshould be taken again, would cost me my life.\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d said he, \u201cif you\nwere once out of the ship, you must look to yourself afterwards; that I\ncan say nothing to.\u201d So we dropped the discourse for that time.\nIn the meantime, my governess, faithful to the last moment, conveyed my\nletter to the prison to my husband, and got an answer to it, and the\nnext day came down herself to the ship, bringing me, in the first\nplace, a sea-bed as they call it, and all its furniture, such as was\nconvenient, but not to let the people think it was extraordinary. She\nbrought with her a sea-chest\u2014that is, a chest, such as are made for\nseamen, with all the conveniences in it, and filled with everything\nalmost that I could want; and in one of the corners of the chest, where\nthere was a private drawer, was my bank of money\u2014this is to say, so\nmuch of it as I had resolved to carry with me; for I ordered a part of\nmy stock to be left behind me, to be sent afterwards in such goods as I\nshould want when I came to settle; for money in that country is not of\nmuch use where all things are brought for tobacco, much more is it a\ngreat loss to carry it from hence.\nBut my case was particular; it was by no means proper to me to go\nthither without money or goods, and for a poor convict, that was to be\nsold as soon as I came on shore, to carry with me a cargo of goods\nwould be to have notice taken of it, and perhaps to have them seized by\nthe public; so I took part of my stock with me thus, and left the other\npart with my governess.\nMy governess brought me a great many other things, but it was not\nproper for me to look too well provided in the ship, at least till I\nknew what kind of a captain we should have. When she came into the\nship, I thought she would have died indeed; her heart sank at the sight\nof me, and at the thoughts of parting with me in that condition, and\nshe cried so intolerably, I could not for a long time have any talk\nwith her.\nI took that time to read my fellow-prisoner\u2019s letter, which, however,\ngreatly perplexed me. He told me he was determined to go, but found it\nwould be impossible for him to be discharged time enough for going in\nthe same ship, and which was more than all, he began to question\nwhether they would give him leave to go in what ship he pleased, though\nhe did voluntarily transport himself; but that they would see him put\non board such a ship as they should direct, and that he would be\ncharged upon the captain as other convict prisoners were; so that he\nbegan to be in despair of seeing me till he came to Virginia, which\nmade him almost desperate; seeing that, on the other hand, if I should\nnot be there, if any accident of the sea or of mortality should take me\naway, he should be the most undone creature there in the world.\nThis was very perplexing, and I knew not what course to take. I told my\ngoverness the story of the boatswain, and she was mighty eager with me\ntreat with him; but I had no mind to it, till I heard whether my\nhusband, or fellow-prisoner, so she called him, could be at liberty to\ngo with me or no. At last I was forced to let her into the whole\nmatter, except only that of his being my husband. I told her I had made\na positive bargain or agreement with him to go, if he could get the\nliberty of going in the same ship, and that I found he had money.\nThen I read a long lecture to her of what I proposed to do when we came\nthere, how we could plant, settle, and, in short, grow rich without any\nmore adventures; and, as a great secret, I told her that we were to\nmarry as soon as he came on board.\nShe soon agreed cheerfully to my going when she heard this, and she\nmade it her business from that time to get him out of the prison in\ntime, so that he might go in the same ship with me, which at last was\nbrought to pass, though with great difficulty, and not without all the\nforms of a transported prisoner-convict, which he really was not yet,\nfor he had not been tried, and which was a great mortification to him.\nAs our fate was now determined, and we were both on board, actually\nbound to Virginia, in the despicable quality of transported convicts\ndestined to be sold for slaves, I for five years, and he under bonds\nand security not to return to England any more, as long as he lived, he\nwas very much dejected and cast down; the mortification of being\nbrought on board, as he was, like a prisoner, piqued him very much,\nsince it was first told him he should transport himself, and so that he\nmight go as a gentleman at liberty. It is true he was not ordered to be\nsold when he came there, as we were, and for that reason he was obliged\nto pay for his passage to the captain, which we were not; as to the\nrest, he was as much at a loss as a child what to do with himself, or\nwith what he had, but by directions.\nOur first business was to compare our stock. He was very honest to me,\nand told me his stock was pretty good when he came into the prison, but\nthe living there as he did in a figure like a gentleman, and, which was\nten times as much, the making of friends, and soliciting his case, had\nbeen very expensive; and, in a word, all his stock that he had left was\n\u00a3108, which he had about him all in gold.\nI gave him an account of my stock as faithfully, that is to say, of\nwhat I had taken to carry with me, for I was resolved, whatever should\nhappen, to keep what I had left with my governess in reserve; that in\ncase I should die, what I had with me was enough to give him, and that\nwhich was left in my governess\u2019s hands would be her own, which she had\nwell deserved of me indeed.\nMy stock which I had with me was \u00a3246 some odd shillings; so that we\nhad \u00a3354 between us, but a worse gotten estate was scarce ever put\ntogether to begin the world with.\nOur greatest misfortune as to our stock was that it was all in money,\nwhich every one knows is an unprofitable cargo to be carried to the\nplantations. I believe his was really all he had left in the world, as\nhe told me it was; but I, who had between \u00a3700 and \u00a3800 in bank when\nthis disaster befell me, and who had one of the faithfullest friends in\nthe world to manage it for me, considering she was a woman of manner of\nreligious principles, had still \u00a3300 left in her hand, which I reserved\nas above; besides, some very valuable things, as particularly two gold\nwatches, some small pieces of plate, and some rings\u2014all stolen goods.\nThe plate, rings, and watches were put in my chest with the money, and\nwith this fortune, and in the sixty-first year of my age, I launched\nout into a new world, as I may call it, in the condition (as to what\nappeared) only of a poor, naked convict, ordered to be transported in\nrespite from the gallows. My clothes were poor and mean, but not ragged\nor dirty, and none knew in the whole ship that I had anything of value\nabout me.\nHowever, as I had a great many very good clothes and linen in\nabundance, which I had ordered to be packed up in two great boxes, I\nhad them shipped on board, not as my goods, but as consigned to my real\nname in Virginia; and had the bills of loading signed by a captain in\nmy pocket; and in these boxes was my plate and watches, and everything\nof value except my money, which I kept by itself in a private drawer in\nmy chest, which could not be found, or opened, if found, without\nsplitting the chest to pieces.\nIn this condition I lay for three weeks in the ship, not knowing\nwhether I should have my husband with me or no, and therefore not\nresolving how or in what manner to receive the honest boatswain\u2019s\nproposal, which indeed he thought a little strange at first.\nAt the end of this time, behold my husband came on board. He looked\nwith a dejected, angry countenance, his great heart was swelled with\nrage and disdain; to be dragged along with three keepers of Newgate,\nand put on board like a convict, when he had not so much as been\nbrought to a trial. He made loud complaints of it by his friends, for\nit seems he had some interest; but his friends got some check in their\napplication, and were told he had had favour enough, and that they had\nreceived such an account of him, since the last grant of his\ntransportation, that he ought to think himself very well treated that\nhe was not prosecuted anew. This answer quieted him at once, for he\nknew too much what might have happened, and what he had room to expect;\nand now he saw the goodness of the advice to him, which prevailed with\nhim to accept of the offer of a voluntary transportation. And after\nthis his chagrin at these hell-hounds, as he called them, was a little\nover, he looked a little composed, began to be cheerful, and as I was\ntelling him how glad I was to have him once more out of their hands, he\ntook me in his arms, and acknowledged with great tenderness that I had\ngiven him the best advice possible. \u201cMy dear,\u201d says he, \u201cthou has twice\nsaved my life; from henceforward it shall be all employed for you, and\nI\u2019ll always take your advice.\u201d\nThe ship began now to fill; several passengers came on board, who were\nembarked on no criminal account, and these had accommodations assigned\nthem in the great cabin, and other parts of the ship, whereas we, as\nconvicts, were thrust down below, I know not where. But when my husband\ncame on board, I spoke to the boatswain, who had so early given me\nhints of his friendship in carrying my letter. I told him he had\nbefriended me in many things, and I had not made any suitable return to\nhim, and with that I put a guinea into his hand. I told him that my\nhusband was now come on board; that though we were both under the\npresent misfortune, yet we had been persons of a different character\nfrom the wretched crew that we came with, and desired to know of him,\nwhether the captain might not be moved to admit us to some conveniences\nin the ship, for which we would make him what satisfaction he pleased,\nand that we would gratify him for his pains in procuring this for us.\nHe took the guinea, as I could see, with great satisfaction, and\nassured me of his assistance.\nThen he told us he did not doubt but that the captain, who was one of\nthe best-humoured gentlemen in the world, would be easily brought to\naccommodate us as well as we could desire, and, to make me easy, told\nme he would go up the next tide on purpose to speak to the captain\nabout it. The next morning, happening to sleep a little longer than\nordinary, when I got up, and began to look abroad, I saw the boatswain\namong the men in his ordinary business. I was a little melancholy at\nseeing him there, and going forward to speak to him, he saw me, and\ncame towards me, but not giving him time to speak first, I said,\nsmiling, \u201cI doubt, sir, you have forgot us, for I see you are very\nbusy.\u201d He returned presently, \u201cCome along with me, and you shall see.\u201d\nSo he took me into the great cabin, and there sat a good sort of a\ngentlemanly man for a seaman, writing, and with a great many papers\nbefore him.\n\u201cHere,\u201d says the boatswain to him that was a-writing, \u201cis the\ngentlewoman that the captain spoke to you of\u201d; and turning to me, he\nsaid, \u201cI have been so far from forgetting your business, that I have\nbeen up at the captain\u2019s house, and have represented faithfully to the\ncaptain what you said, relating to you being furnished with better\nconveniences for yourself and your husband; and the captain has sent\nthis gentleman, who is mate of the ship, down with me, on purpose to\nshow you everything, and to accommodate you fully to your content, and\nbid me assure you that you shall not be treated like what you were at\nfirst expected to be, but with the same respect as other passengers are\ntreated.\u201d\nThe mate then spoke to me, and, not giving me time to thank the\nboatswain for his kindness, confirmed what the boatswain had said, and\nadded that it was the captain\u2019s delight to show himself kind and\ncharitable, especially to those that were under any misfortunes, and\nwith that he showed me several cabins built up, some in the great\ncabin, and some partitioned off, out of the steerage, but opening into\nthe great cabin on purpose for the accommodation of passengers, and\ngave me leave to choose where I would. However, I chose a cabin which\nopened into the steerage, in which was very good conveniences to set\nour chest and boxes, and a table to eat on.\nThe mate then told me that the boatswain had given so good a character\nof me and my husband, as to our civil behaviour, that he had orders to\ntell me we should eat with him, if we thought fit, during the whole\nvoyage, on the common terms of passengers; that we might lay in some\nfresh provisions, if we pleased; or if not, he should lay in his usual\nstore, and we should have share with him. This was very reviving news\nto me, after so many hardships and afflictions as I had gone through of\nlate. I thanked him, and told him the captain should make his own terms\nwith us, and asked him leave to go and tell my husband of it, who was\nnot very well, and was not yet out of his cabin. Accordingly I went,\nand my husband, whose spirits were still so much sunk with the\nindignity (as he understood it) offered him, that he was scared yet\nhimself, was so revived with the account that I gave him of the\nreception we were like to have in the ship, that he was quite another\nman, and new vigour and courage appeared in his very countenance. So\ntrue is it, that the greatest of spirits, when overwhelmed by their\nafflictions, are subject to the greatest dejections, and are the most\napt to despair and give themselves up.\nAfter some little pause to recover himself, my husband came up with me,\nand gave the mate thanks for the kindness, which he had expressed to\nus, and sent suitable acknowledgment by him to the captain, offering to\npay him by advance, whatever he demanded for our passage, and for the\nconveniences he had helped us to. The mate told him that the captain\nwould be on board in the afternoon, and that he would leave all that\ntill he came. Accordingly, in the afternoon the captain came, and we\nfound him the same courteous, obliging man that the boatswain had\nrepresented him to be; and he was so well pleased with my husband\u2019s\nconversation, that, in short, he would not let us keep the cabin we had\nchosen, but gave us one that, as I said before, opened into the great\ncabin.\nNor were his conditions exorbitant, or the man craving and eager to\nmake a prey of us, but for fifteen guineas we had our whole passage and\nprovisions and cabin, ate at the captain\u2019s table, and were very\nhandsomely entertained.\nThe captain lay himself in the other part of the great cabin, having\nlet his round house, as they call it, to a rich planter who went over\nwith his wife and three children, who ate by themselves. He had some\nother ordinary passengers, who quartered in the steerage, and as for\nour old fraternity, they were kept under the hatches while the ship lay\nthere, and came very little on the deck.\nI could not refrain acquainting my governess with what had happened; it\nwas but just that she, who was so really concerned for me, should have\npart in my good fortune. Besides, I wanted her assistance to supply me\nwith several necessaries, which before I was shy of letting anybody see\nme have, that it might not be public; but now I had a cabin and room to\nset things in, I ordered abundance of good things for our comfort in\nthe voyage, as brandy, sugar, lemons, etc., to make punch, and treat\nour benefactor, the captain; and abundance of things for eating and\ndrinking in the voyage; also a larger bed, and bedding proportioned to\nit; so that, in a word, we resolved to want for nothing in the voyage.\nAll this while I had provided nothing for our assistance when we should\ncome to the place and begin to call ourselves planters; and I was far\nfrom being ignorant of what was needful on that occasion; particularly\nall sorts of tools for the planter\u2019s work, and for building; and all\nkinds of furniture for our dwelling, which, if to be bought in the\ncountry, must necessarily cost double the price.\nSo I discoursed that point with my governess, and she went and waited\nupon the captain, and told him that she hoped ways might be found out\nfor her two unfortunate cousins, as she called us, to obtain our\nfreedom when we came into the country, and so entered into a discourse\nwith him about the means and terms also, of which I shall say more in\nits place; and after thus sounding the captain, she let him know,\nthough we were unhappy in the circumstances that occasioned our going,\nyet that we were not unfurnished to set ourselves to work in the\ncountry, and we resolved to settle and live there as planters, if we\nmight be put in a way how to do it. The captain readily offered his\nassistance, told her the method of entering upon such business, and how\neasy, nay, how certain it was for industrious people to recover their\nfortunes in such a manner. \u201cMadam,\u201d says he, \u201c\u2019tis no reproach to any\nmany in that country to have been sent over in worse circumstances than\nI perceive your cousins are in, provided they do but apply with\ndiligence and good judgment to the business of that place when they\ncome there.\u201d\nShe then inquired of him what things it was necessary we should carry\nover with us, and he, like a very honest as well as knowing man, told\nher thus: \u201cMadam, your cousins in the first place must procure somebody\nto buy them as servants, in conformity to the conditions of their\ntransportation, and then, in the name of that person, they may go about\nwhat they will; they may either purchase some plantations already\nbegun, or they may purchase land of the Government of the country, and\nbegin where they please, and both will be done reasonably.\u201d She bespoke\nhis favour in the first article, which he promised to her to take upon\nhimself, and indeed faithfully performed it, and as to the rest, he\npromised to recommend us to such as should give us the best advice, and\nnot to impose upon us, which was as much as could be desired.\nShe then asked him if it would not be necessary to furnish us with a\nstock of tools and materials for the business of planting, and he said,\n\u201cYes, by all means.\u201d And then she begged his assistance in it. She told\nhim she would furnish us with everything that was convenient whatever\nit cost her. He accordingly gave her a long particular of things\nnecessary for a planter, which, by his account, came to about fourscore\nor a hundred pounds. And, in short, she went about as dexterously to\nbuy them, as if she had been an old Virginia merchant; only that she\nbought, by my direction, above twice as much of everything as he had\ngiven her a list of.\nThese she put on board in her own name, took his bills of loading for\nthem, and endorsed those bills of loading to my husband, insuring the\ncargo afterwards in her own name, by our order; so that we were\nprovided for all events, and for all disasters.\nI should have told you that my husband gave her all his whole stock of\n\u00a3108, which, as I have said, he had about him in gold, to lay out thus,\nand I gave her a good sum besides; so that I did not break into the\nstock which I had left in her hands at all, but after we had sorted out\nour whole cargo, we had yet near \u00a3200 in money, which was more than\nenough for our purpose.\nIn this condition, very cheerful, and indeed joyful at being so happily\naccommodated as we were, we set sail from Bugby\u2019s Hole to Gravesend,\nwhere the ship lay about ten more days, and where the captain came on\nboard for good and all. Here the captain offered us a civility, which\nindeed we had no reason to expect, namely, to let us go on shore and\nrefresh ourselves, upon giving our words in a solemn manner that we\nwould not go from him, and that we would return peaceably on board\nagain. This was such an evidence of his confidence in us, that it\novercame my husband, who, in a mere principle of gratitude, told him,\nas he could not be in any capacity to make a suitable return for such a\nfavour, so he could not think of accepting of it, nor could he be easy\nthat the captain should run such a risk. After some mutual civilities,\nI gave my husband a purse, in which was eighty guineas, and he put in\ninto the captain\u2019s hand. \u201cThere, captain,\u201d says he, \u201cthere\u2019s part of a\npledge for our fidelity; if we deal dishonestly with you on any\naccount, \u2019tis your own.\u201d And on this we went on shore.\nIndeed, the captain had assurance enough of our resolutions to go, for\nthat having made such provision to settle there, it did not seem\nrational that we would choose to remain here at the expense and peril\nof life, for such it must have been if we had been taken again. In a\nword, we went all on shore with the captain, and supped together in\nGravesend, where we were very merry, stayed all night, lay at the house\nwhere we supped, and came all very honestly on board again with him in\nthe morning. Here we bought ten dozen bottles of good beer, some wine,\nsome fowls, and such things as we thought might be acceptable on board.\nMy governess was with us all this while, and went with us round into\nthe Downs, as did also the captain\u2019s wife, with whom she went back. I\nwas never so sorrowful at parting with my own mother as I was at\nparting with her, and I never saw her more. We had a fair easterly wind\nsprung up the third day after we came to the Downs, and we sailed from\nthence the 10th of April. Nor did we touch any more at any place, till,\nbeing driven on the coast of Ireland by a very hard gale of wind, the\nship came to an anchor in a little bay, near the mouth of a river,\nwhose name I remember not, but they said the river came down from\nLimerick, and that it was the largest river in Ireland.\nHere, being detained by bad weather for some time, the captain, who\ncontinued the same kind, good-humoured man as at first, took us two on\nshore with him again. He did it now in kindness to my husband indeed,\nwho bore the sea very ill, and was very sick, especially when it blew\nso hard. Here we bought in again a store of fresh provisions,\nespecially beef, pork, mutton, and fowls, and the captain stayed to\npickle up five or six barrels of beef to lengthen out the ship\u2019s store.\nWe were here not above five days, when the weather turning mild, and a\nfair wind, we set sail again, and in two-and-forty days came safe to\nthe coast of Virginia.\nWhen we drew near to the shore, the captain called me to him, and told\nme that he found by my discourse I had some relations in the place, and\nthat I had been there before, and so he supposed I understood the\ncustom in their disposing the convict prisoners when they arrived. I\ntold him I did not, and that as to what relations I had in the place,\nhe might be sure I would make myself known to none of them while I was\nin the circumstances of a prisoner, and that as to the rest, we left\nourselves entirely to him to assist us, as he was pleased to promise us\nhe would do. He told me I must get somebody in the place to come and\nbuy us as servants, and who must answer for us to the governor of the\ncountry, if he demanded us. I told him we should do as he should\ndirect; so he brought a planter to treat with him, as it were, for the\npurchase of these two servants, my husband and me, and there we were\nformally sold to him, and went ashore with him. The captain went with\nus, and carried us to a certain house, whether it was to be called a\ntavern or not I know not, but we had a bowl of punch there made of rum,\netc., and were very merry. After some time the planter gave us a\ncertificate of discharge, and an acknowledgment of having served him\nfaithfully, and we were free from him the next morning, to go wither we\nwould.\nFor this piece of service the captain demanded of us six thousand\nweight of tabacco, which he said he was accountable for to his\nfreighter, and which we immediately bought for him, and made him a\npresent of twenty guineas besides, with which he was abundantly\nsatisfied.\nIt is not proper to enter here into the particulars of what part of the\ncolony of Virginia we settled in, for divers reasons; it may suffice to\nmention that we went into the great river Potomac, the ship being bound\nthither; and there we intended to have settled first, though afterwards\nwe altered our minds.\nThe first thing I did of moment after having gotten all our goods on\nshore, and placed them in a storehouse, or warehouse, which, with a\nlodging, we hired at the small place or village where we landed\u2014I say,\nthe first thing was to inquire after my mother, and after my brother\n(that fatal person whom I married as a husband, as I have related at\nlarge). A little inquiry furnished me with information that Mrs. \u2014\u2014,\nthat is, my mother, was dead; that my brother (or husband) was alive,\nwhich I confess I was not very glad to hear; but which was worse, I\nfound he was removed from the plantation where he lived formerly, and\nwhere I lived with him, and lived with one of his sons in a plantation\njust by the place where we landed, and where we had hired a warehouse.\nI was a little surprised at first, but as I ventured to satisfy myself\nthat he could not know me, I was not only perfectly easy, but had a\ngreat mind to see him, if it was possible to so do without his seeing\nme. In order to that I found out by inquiry the plantation where he\nlived, and with a woman of that place whom I got to help me, like what\nwe call a chairwoman, I rambled about towards the place as if I had\nonly a mind to see the country and look about me. At last I came so\nnear that I saw the dwellinghouse. I asked the woman whose plantation\nthat was; she said it belonged to such a man, and looking out a little\nto our right hands, \u201cthere,\u201d says she, \u201cis the gentleman that owns the\nplantation, and his father with him.\u201d \u201cWhat are their Christian names?\u201d\nsaid I. \u201cI know not,\u201d says she, \u201cwhat the old gentleman\u2019s name is, but\nthe son\u2019s name is Humphrey; and I believe,\u201d says she, \u201cthe father\u2019s is\nso too.\u201d You may guess, if you can, what a confused mixture of joy and\nfight possessed my thoughts upon this occasion, for I immediately knew\nthat this was nobody else but my own son, by that father she showed me,\nwho was my own brother. I had no mask, but I ruffled my hood so about\nmy face, that I depended upon it that after above twenty years\u2019\nabsence, and withal not expecting anything of me in that part of the\nworld, he would not be able to know anything of me. But I need not have\nused all that caution, for the old gentleman was grown dim-sighted by\nsome distemper which had fallen upon his eyes, and could but just see\nwell enough to walk about, and not run against a tree or into a ditch.\nThe woman that was with me had told me that by a mere accident, knowing\nnothing of what importance it was to me. As they drew near to us, I\nsaid, \u201cDoes he know you, Mrs. Owen?\u201d (so they called the woman). \u201cYes,\u201d\nsaid she, \u201cif he hears me speak, he will know me; but he can\u2019t see well\nenough to know me or anybody else\u201d; and so she told me the story of his\nsight, as I have related. This made me secure, and so I threw open my\nhoods again, and let them pass by me. It was a wretched thing for a\nmother thus to see her own son, a handsome, comely young gentleman in\nflourishing circumstances, and durst not make herself known to him, and\ndurst not take any notice of him. Let any mother of children that reads\nthis consider it, and but think with what anguish of mind I restrained\nmyself; what yearnings of soul I had in me to embrace him, and weep\nover him; and how I thought all my entrails turned within me, that my\nvery bowels moved, and I knew not what to do, as I now know not how to\nexpress those agonies! When he went from me I stood gazing and\ntrembling, and looking after him as long as I could see him; then\nsitting down to rest me, but turned from her, and lying on my face,\nwept, and kissed the ground that he had set his foot on.\nI could not conceal my disorder so much from the woman but that she\nperceived it, and thought I was not well, which I was obliged to\npretend was true; upon which she pressed me to rise, the ground being\ndamp and dangerous, which I did accordingly, and walked away.\nAs I was going back again, and still talking of this gentleman and his\nson, a new occasion of melancholy offered itself thus. The woman began,\nas if she would tell me a story to divert me: \u201cThere goes,\u201d says she,\n\u201ca very odd tale among the neighbours where this gentleman formerly\nlive.\u201d \u201cWhat was that?\u201d said I. \u201cWhy,\u201d says she, \u201cthat old gentleman\ngoing to England, when he was a young man, fell in love with a young\nlady there, one of the finest women that ever was seen, and married\nher, and brought her over hither to his mother who was then living. He\nlived here several years with her,\u201d continued she, \u201cand had several\nchildren by her, of which the young gentleman that was with him now was\none; but after some time, the old gentlewoman, his mother, talking to\nher of something relating to herself when she was in England, and of\nher circumstances in England, which were bad enough, the\ndaughter-in-law began to be very much surprised and uneasy; and, in\nshort, examining further into things, it appeared past all\ncontradiction that the old gentlewoman was her own mother, and that\nconsequently that son was his wife\u2019s own brother, which struck the\nwhole family with horror, and put them into such confusion that it had\nalmost ruined them all. The young woman would not live with him; the\nson, her brother and husband, for a time went distracted; and at last\nthe young woman went away for England, and has never been heard of\nsince.\u201d\nIt is easy to believe that I was strangely affected with this story,\nbut \u2019tis impossible to describe the nature of my disturbance. I seemed\nastonished at the story, and asked her a thousand questions about the\nparticulars, which I found she was thoroughly acquainted with. At last\nI began to inquire into the circumstances of the family, how the old\ngentlewoman, I mean my mother, died, and how she left what she had; for\nmy mother had promised me very solemnly, that when she died she would\ndo something for me, and leave it so, as that, if I was living, I\nshould one way or other come at it, without its being in the power of\nher son, my brother and husband, to prevent it. She told me she did not\nknow exactly how it was ordered, but she had been told that my mother\nhad left a sum of money, and had tied her plantation for the payment of\nit, to be made good to the daughter, if ever she could be heard of,\neither in England or elsewhere; and that the trust was left with this\nson, who was the person that we saw with his father.\nThis was news too good for me to make light of, and, you may be sure,\nfilled my heart with a thousand thoughts, what course I should take,\nhow, and when, and in what manner I should make myself known, or\nwhether I should ever make myself know or no.\nHere was a perplexity that I had not indeed skill to manage myself in,\nneither knew I what course to take. It lay heavy upon my mind night and\nday. I could neither sleep nor converse, so that my husband perceived\nit, and wondered what ailed me, strove to divert me, but it was all to\nno purpose. He pressed me to tell him what it was troubled me, but I\nput it off, till at last, importuning me continually, I was forced to\nform a story, which yet had a plain truth to lay it upon too. I told\nhim I was troubled because I found we must shift our quarters and alter\nour scheme of settling, for that I found I should be known if I stayed\nin that part of the country; for that my mother being dead, several of\nmy relations were come into that part where we then was, and that I\nmust either discover myself to them, which in our present circumstances\nwas not proper on many accounts, or remove; and which to do I knew not,\nand that this it was that made me so melancholy and so thoughtful.\nHe joined with me in this, that it was by no means proper for me to\nmake myself known to anybody in the circumstances in which we then\nwere; and therefore he told me he would be willing to remove to any\nother part of the country, or even to any other country if I thought\nfit. But now I had another difficulty, which was, that if I removed to\nany other colony, I put myself out of the way of ever making a due\nsearch after those effects which my mother had left. Again I could\nnever so much as think of breaking the secret of my former marriage to\nmy new husband; it was not a story, as I thought, that would bear\ntelling, nor could I tell what might be the consequences of it; and it\nwas impossible to search into the bottom of the thing without making it\npublic all over the country, as well who I was, as what I now was also.\nIn this perplexity I continued a great while, and this made my spouse\nvery uneasy; for he found me perplexed, and yet thought I was not open\nwith him, and did not let him into every part of my grievance; and he\nwould often say, he wondered what he had done that I would not trust\nhim with whatever it was, especially if it was grievous and afflicting.\nThe truth is, he ought to have been trusted with everything, for no man\nin the world could deserve better of a wife; but this was a thing I\nknew not how to open to him, and yet having nobody to disclose any part\nof it to, the burthen was too heavy for my mind; for let them say what\nthey please of our sex not being able to keep a secret, my life is a\nplain conviction to me of the contrary; but be it our sex, or the man\u2019s\nsex, a secret of moment should always have a confidant, a bosom friend,\nto whom we may communicate the joy of it, or the grief of it, be it\nwhich it will, or it will be a double weight upon the spirits, and\nperhaps become even insupportable in itself; and this I appeal to all\nhuman testimony for the truth of.\nAnd this is the cause why many times men as well as women, and men of\nthe greatest and best qualities other ways, yet have found themselves\nweak in this part, and have not been able to bear the weight of a\nsecret joy or of a secret sorrow, but have been obliged to disclose it,\neven for the mere giving vent to themselves, and to unbend the mind\noppressed with the load and weights which attended it. Nor was this any\ntoken of folly or thoughtlessness at all, but a natural consequence of\nthe thing; and such people, had they struggled longer with the\noppression, would certainly have told it in their sleep, and disclosed\nthe secret, let it have been of what fatal nature soever, without\nregard to the person to whom it might be exposed. This necessity of\nnature is a thing which works sometimes with such vehemence in the\nminds of those who are guilty of any atrocious villainy, such as secret\nmurder in particular, that they have been obliged to discover it,\nthough the consequence would necessarily be their own destruction. Now,\nthough it may be true that the divine justice ought to have the glory\nof all those discoveries and confessions, yet \u2019tis as certain that\nProvidence, which ordinarily works by the hands of nature, makes use\nhere of the same natural causes to produce those extraordinary effects.\nI could give several remarkable instances of this in my long\nconversation with crime and with criminals. I knew one fellow that,\nwhile I was in prison in Newgate, was one of those they called then\nnight-fliers. I know not what other word they may have understood it by\nsince, but he was one who by connivance was admitted to go abroad every\nevening, when he played his pranks, and furnished those honest people\nthey call thief-catchers with business to find out the next day, and\nrestore for a reward what they had stolen the evening before. This\nfellow was as sure to tell in his sleep all that he had done, and every\nstep he had taken, what he had stolen, and where, as sure as if he had\nengaged to tell it waking, and that there was no harm or danger in it,\nand therefore he was obliged, after he had been out, to lock himself\nup, or be locked up by some of the keepers that had him in fee, that\nnobody should hear him; but, on the other hand, if he had told all the\nparticulars, and given a full account of his rambles and success, to\nany comrade, any brother thief, or to his employers, as I may justly\ncall them, then all was well with him, and he slept as quietly as other\npeople.\nAs the publishing this account of my life is for the sake of the just\nmoral of very part of it, and for instruction, caution, warning, and\nimprovement to every reader, so this will not pass, I hope, for an\nunnecessary digression concerning some people being obliged to disclose\nthe greatest secrets either of their own or other people\u2019s affairs.\nUnder the certain oppression of this weight upon my mind, I laboured in\nthe case I have been naming; and the only relief I found for it was to\nlet my husband into so much of it as I thought would convince him of\nthe necessity there was for us to think of settling in some other part\nof the world; and the next consideration before us was, which part of\nthe English settlements we should go to. My husband was a perfect\nstranger to the country, and had not yet so much as a geographical\nknowledge of the situation of the several places; and I, that, till I\nwrote this, did not know what the word geographical signified, had only\na general knowledge from long conversation with people that came from\nor went to several places; but this I knew, that Maryland,\nPennsylvania, East and West Jersey, New York, and New England lay all\nnorth of Virginia, and that they were consequently all colder climates,\nto which for that very reason, I had an aversion. For that as I\nnaturally loved warm weather, so now I grew into years I had a stronger\ninclination to shun a cold climate. I therefore considered of going to\nCarolina, which is the only southern colony of the English on the\ncontinent of America, and hither I proposed to go; and the rather\nbecause I might with great ease come from thence at any time, when it\nmight be proper to inquire after my mother\u2019s effects, and to make\nmyself known enough to demand them.\nWith this resolution I proposed to my husband our going away from where\nwe was, and carrying all our effects with us to Carolina, where we\nresolved to settle; for my husband readily agreed to the first part,\nviz. that was not at all proper to stay where we was, since I had\nassured him we should be known there, and the rest I effectually\nconcealed from him.\nBut now I found a new difficulty upon me. The main affair grew heavy\nupon my mind still, and I could not think of going out of the country\nwithout somehow or other making inquiry into the grand affair of what\nmy mother had done for me; nor could I with any patience bear the\nthought of going away, and not make myself known to my old husband\n(brother), or to my child, his son; only I would fain have had this\ndone without my new husband having any knowledge of it, or they having\nany knowledge of him, or that I had such a thing as a husband.\nI cast about innumerable ways in my thoughts how this might be done. I\nwould gladly have sent my husband away to Carolina with all our goods,\nand have come after myself, but this was impracticable; he would never\nstir without me, being himself perfectly unacquainted with the country,\nand with the methods of settling there or anywhere else. Then I thought\nwe would both go first with part of our goods, and that when we were\nsettled I should come back to Virginia and fetch the remainder; but\neven then I knew he would never part with me, and be left there to go\non alone. The case was plain; he was bred a gentleman, and by\nconsequence was not only unacquainted, but indolent, and when we did\nsettle, would much rather go out into the woods with his gun, which\nthey call there hunting, and which is the ordinary work of the Indians,\nand which they do as servants; I say, he would rather do that than\nattend the natural business of his plantation.\nThese were therefore difficulties insurmountable, and such as I knew\nnot what to do in. I had such strong impressions on my mind about\ndiscovering myself to my brother, formerly my husband, that I could not\nwithstand them; and the rather, because it ran constantly in my\nthoughts, that if I did not do it while he lived, I might in vain\nendeavour to convince my son afterward that I was really the same\nperson, and that I was his mother, and so might both lose the\nassistance and comfort of the relation, and the benefit of whatever it\nwas my mother had left me; and yet, on the other hand, I could never\nthink it proper to discover myself to them in the circumstances I was\nin, as well relating to the having a husband with me as to my being\nbrought over by a legal transportation as a criminal; on both which\naccounts it was absolutely necessary to me to remove from the place\nwhere I was, and come again to him, as from another place and in\nanother figure.\nUpon those considerations, I went on with telling my husband the\nabsolute necessity there was of our not settling in Potomac River, at\nleast that we should be presently made public there; whereas if we went\nto any other place in the world, we should come in with as much\nreputation as any family that came to plant; that, as it was always\nagreeable to the inhabitants to have families come among them to plant,\nwho brought substance with them, either to purchase plantations or\nbegin new ones, so we should be sure of a kind, agreeable reception,\nand that without any possibility of a discovery of our circumstances.\nI told him in general, too, that as I had several relations in the\nplace where we were, and that I durst not now let myself be known to\nthem, because they would soon come into a knowledge of the occasion and\nreason of my coming over, which would be to expose myself to the last\ndegree, so I had reason to believe that my mother, who died here, had\nleft me something, and perhaps considerable, which it might be very\nwell worth my while to inquire after; but that this too could not be\ndone without exposing us publicly, unless we went from hence; and then,\nwherever we settled, I might come, as it were, to visit and to see my\nbrother and nephews, make myself known to them, claim and inquire after\nwhat was my due, be received with respect, and at the same time have\njustice done me with cheerfulness and good will; whereas, if I did it\nnow, I could expect nothing but with trouble, such as exacting it by\nforce, receiving it with curses and reluctance, and with all kinds of\naffronts, which he would not perhaps bear to see; that in case of being\nobliged to legal proofs of being really her daughter, I might be at\nloss, be obliged to have recourse to England, and it may be to fail at\nlast, and so lose it, whatever it might be. With these arguments, and\nhaving thus acquainted my husband with the whole secret so far as was\nneedful of him, we resolved to go and seek a settlement in some other\ncolony, and at first thoughts, Carolina was the place we pitched upon.\nIn order to this we began to make inquiry for vessels going to\nCarolina, and in a very little while got information, that on the other\nside the bay, as they call it, namely, in Maryland, there was a ship\nwhich came from Carolina, laden with rice and other goods, and was\ngoing back again thither, and from thence to Jamaica, with provisions.\nOn this news we hired a sloop to take in our goods, and taking, as it\nwere, a final farewell of Potomac River, we went with all our cargo\nover to Maryland.\nThis was a long and unpleasant voyage, and my spouse said it was worse\nto him than all the voyage from England, because the weather was but\nindifferent, the water rough, and the vessel small and inconvenient. In\nthe next place, we were full a hundred miles up Potomac River, in a\npart which they call Westmoreland County, and as that river is by far\nthe greatest in Virginia, and I have heard say it is the greatest river\nin the world that falls into another river, and not directly into the\nsea, so we had base weather in it, and were frequently in great danger;\nfor though we were in the middle, we could not see land on either side\nfor many leagues together. Then we had the great river or bay of\nChesapeake to cross, which is where the river Potomac falls into it,\nnear thirty miles broad, and we entered more great vast waters whose\nnames I know not, so that our voyage was full two hundred miles, in a\npoor, sorry sloop, with all our treasure, and if any accident had\nhappened to us, we might at last have been very miserable; supposing we\nhad lost our goods and saved our lives only, and had then been left\nnaked and destitute, and in a wild, strange place not having one friend\nor acquaintance in all that part of the world. The very thought of it\ngives me some horror, even since the danger is past.\nWell, we came to the place in five days\u2019 sailing; I think they call it\nPhilip\u2019s Point; and behold, when we came thither, the ship bound to\nCarolina was loaded and gone away but three days before. This was a\ndisappointment; but, however, I, that was to be discouraged with\nnothing, told my husband that since we could not get passage to\nCarolina, and that the country we was in was very fertile and good, we\nwould, if he liked of it, see if we could find out anything for our\ntune where we was, and that if he liked things we would settle here.\nWe immediately went on shore, but found no conveniences just at that\nplace, either for our being on shore or preserving our goods on shore,\nbut was directed by a very honest Quaker, whom we found there, to go to\na place about sixty miles east; that is to say, nearer the mouth of the\nbay, where he said he lived, and where we should be accommodated,\neither to plant, or to wait for any other place to plant in that might\nbe more convenient; and he invited us with so much kindness and simple\nhonesty, that we agreed to go, and the Quaker himself went with us.\nHere we bought us two servants, viz. an English woman-servant just come\non shore from a ship of Liverpool, and a Negro man-servant, things\nabsolutely necessary for all people that pretended to settle in that\ncountry. This honest Quaker was very helpful to us, and when we came to\nthe place that he proposed to us, found us out a convenient storehouse\nfor our goods, and lodging for ourselves and our servants; and about\ntwo months or thereabouts afterwards, by his direction, we took up a\nlarge piece of land from the governor of that country, in order to form\nour plantation, and so we laid the thoughts of going to Carolina wholly\naside, having been very well received here, and accommodated with a\nconvenient lodging till we could prepare things, and have land enough\ncleared, and timber and materials provided for building us a house, all\nwhich we managed by the direction of the Quaker; so that in one year\u2019s\ntime we had nearly fifty acres of land cleared, part of it enclosed,\nand some of it planted with tabacco, though not much; besides, we had\ngarden ground and corn sufficient to help supply our servants with\nroots and herbs and bread.\nAnd now I persuaded my husband to let me go over the bay again, and\ninquire after my friends. He was the willinger to consent to it now,\nbecause he had business upon his hands sufficient to employ him,\nbesides his gun to divert him, which they call hunting there, and which\nhe greatly delighted in; and indeed we used to look at one another,\nsometimes with a great deal of pleasure, reflecting how much better\nthat was, not than Newgate only, but than the most prosperous of our\ncircumstances in the wicked trade that we had been both carrying on.\nOur affair was in a very good posture; we purchased of the proprietors\nof the colony as much land for \u00a335, paid in ready money, as would make\na sufficient plantation to employ between fifty and sixty servants, and\nwhich, being well improved, would be sufficient to us as long as we\ncould either of us live; and as for children, I was past the prospect\nof anything of that kind.\nBut out good fortune did not end here. I went, as I have said, over the\nbay, to the place where my brother, once a husband, lived; but I did\nnot go to the same village where I was before, but went up another\ngreat river, on the east side of the river Potomac, called Rappahannock\nRiver, and by this means came on the back of his plantation, which was\nlarge, and by the help of a navigable creek, or little river, that ran\ninto the Rappahannock, I came very near it.\nI was now fully resolved to go up point-blank to my brother (husband),\nand to tell him who I was; but not knowing what temper I might find him\nin, or how much out of temper rather, I might make him by such a rash\nvisit, I resolved to write a letter to him first, to let him know who I\nwas, and that I was come not to give him any trouble upon the old\nrelation, which I hoped was entirely forgot, but that I applied to him\nas a sister to a brother, desiring his assistance in the case of that\nprovision which our mother, at her decease, had left for my support,\nand which I did not doubt but he would do me justice in, especially\nconsidering that I was come thus far to look after it.\nI said some very tender, kind things in the letter about his son, which\nI told him he knew to be my own child, and that as I was guilty of\nnothing in marrying him, any more than he was in marrying me, neither\nof us having then known our being at all related to one another, so I\nhoped he would allow me the most passionate desire of once seeing my\none and only child, and of showing something of the infirmities of a\nmother in preserving a violent affect for him, who had never been able\nto retain any thought of me one way or other.\nI did believe that, having received this letter, he would immediately\ngive it to his son to read, I having understood his eyes being so dim,\nthat he could not see to read it; but it fell out better than so, for\nas his sight was dim, so he had allowed his son to open all letters\nthat came to his hand for him, and the old gentleman being from home,\nor out of the way when my messenger came, my letter came directly to my\nson\u2019s hand, and he opened and read it.\nHe called the messenger in, after some little stay, and asked him where\nthe person was who gave him the letter. The messenger told him the\nplace, which was about seven miles off, so he bid him stay, and\nordering a horse to be got ready, and two servants, away he came to me\nwith the messenger. Let any one judge the consternation I was in when\nmy messenger came back, and told me the old gentleman was not at home,\nbut his son was come along with him, and was just coming up to me. I\nwas perfectly confounded, for I knew not whether it was peace or war,\nnor could I tell how to behave; however, I had but a very few moments\nto think, for my son was at the heels of the messenger, and coming up\ninto my lodgings, asked the fellow at the door something. I suppose it\nwas, for I did not hear it so as to understand it, which was the\ngentlewoman that sent him; for the messenger said, \u201cThere she is, sir\u201d;\nat which he comes directly up to me, kisses me, took me in his arms,\nand embraced me with so much passion that he could not speak, but I\ncould feel his breast heave and throb like a child, that cries, but\nsobs, and cannot cry it out.\nI can neither express nor describe the joy that touched my very soul\nwhen I found, for it was easy to discover that part, that he came not\nas a stranger, but as a son to a mother, and indeed as a son who had\nnever before known what a mother of his own was; in short, we cried\nover one another a considerable while, when at last he broke out first.\n\u201cMy dear mother,\u201d says he, \u201care you still alive? I never expected to\nhave seen your face.\u201d As for me, I could say nothing a great while.\nAfter we had both recovered ourselves a little, and were able to talk,\nhe told me how things stood. As to what I had written to his father, he\ntold me he had not showed my letter to his father, or told him anything\nabout it; that what his grandmother left me was in his hands, and that\nhe would do me justice to my full satisfaction; that as to his father,\nhe was old and infirm both in body and mind; that he was very fretful\nand passionate, almost blind, and capable of nothing; and he questioned\nwhether he would know how to act in an affair which was of so nice a\nnature as this; and that therefore he had come himself, as well to\nsatisfy himself in seeing me, which he could not restrain himself from,\nas also to put it into my power to make a judgment, after I had seen\nhow things were, whether I would discover myself to his father or no.\nThis was really so prudently and wisely managed, that I found my son\nwas a man of sense, and needed no direction from me. I told him I did\nnot wonder that his father was as he had described him, for that his\nhead was a little touched before I went away; and principally his\ndisturbance was because I could not be persuaded to conceal our\nrelation and to live with him as my husband, after I knew that he was\nmy brother; that as he knew better than I what his father\u2019s present\ncondition was, I should readily join with him in such measure as he\nwould direct; that I was indifferent as to seeing his father, since I\nhad seen him first, and he could not have told me better news than to\ntell me that what his grandmother had left me was entrusted in his\nhands, who, I doubted not, now he knew who I was, would, as he said, do\nme justice. I inquired then how long my mother had been dead, and where\nshe died, and told so many particulars of the family, that I left him\nno room to doubt the truth of my being really and truly his mother.\nMy son then inquired where I was, and how I had disposed myself. I told\nhim I was on the Maryland side of the bay, at the plantation of a\nparticular friend who came from England in the same ship with me; that\nas for that side of the bay where he was, I had no habitation. He told\nme I should go home with him, and live with him, if I pleased, as long\nas I lived; that as to his father, he knew nobody, and would never so\nmuch as guess at me. I considered of that a little, and told him, that\nthough it was really no concern to me to live at a distance from him,\nyet I could not say it would be the most comfortable thing in the world\nto me to live in the house with him, and to have that unhappy object\nalways before me, which had been such a blow to my peace before; that\nthough I should be glad to have his company (my son), or to be as near\nhim as possible while I stayed, yet I could not think of being in the\nhouse where I should be also under constant restraint for fear of\nbetraying myself in my discourse, nor should I be able to refrain some\nexpressions in my conversing with him as my son, that might discover\nthe whole affair, which would by no means be convenient.\nHe acknowledged that I was right in all this. \u201cBut then, dear mother,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cyou shall be as near me as you can.\u201d So he took me with him\non horseback to a plantation next to his own, and where I was as well\nentertained as I could have been in his own. Having left me there he\nwent away home, telling me we would talk of the main business the next\nday; and having first called me his aunt, and given a charge to the\npeople, who it seems were his tenants, to treat me with all possible\nrespect. About two hours after he was gone, he sent me a maid-servant\nand a Negro boy to wait on me, and provisions ready dressed for my\nsupper; and thus I was as if I had been in a new world, and began\nsecretly now to wish that I had not brought my Lancashire husband from\nEngland at all.\nHowever, that wish was not hearty neither, for I loved my Lancashire\nhusband entirely, as indeed I had ever done from the beginning; and he\nmerited from me as much as it was possible for a man to do; but that by\nthe way.\nThe next morning my son came to visit me again almost as soon as I was\nup. After a little discourse, he first of all pulled out a deerskin\nbag, and gave it me, with five-and-fifty Spanish pistoles in it, and\ntold me that was to supply my expenses from England, for though it was\nnot his business to inquire, yet he ought to think I did not bring a\ngreat deal of money out with me, it not being usual to bring much money\ninto that country. Then he pulled out his grandmother\u2019s will, and read\nit over to me, whereby it appeared that she had left a small\nplantation, as he called it, on York River, that is, where my mother\nlived, to me, with the stock of servants and cattle upon it, and given\nit in trust to this son of mine for my use, whenever he should hear of\nmy being alive, and to my heirs, if I had any children, and in default\nof heirs, to whomsoever I should by will dispose of it; but gave the\nincome of it, till I should be heard of, or found, to my said son; and\nif I should not be living, then it was to him, and his heirs.\nThis plantation, though remote from him, he said he did not let out,\nbut managed it by a head-clerk (steward), as he did another that was\nhis father\u2019s, that lay hard by it, and went over himself three or four\ntimes a year to look after it. I asked him what he thought the\nplantation might be worth. He said, if I would let it out, he would\ngive me about \u00a360 a year for it; but if I would live on it, then it\nwould be worth much more, and, he believed, would bring me in about\n\u00a3150 a year. But seeing I was likely either to settle on the other side\nof the bay, or might perhaps have a mind to go back to England again,\nif I would let him be my steward he would manage it for me, as he had\ndone for himself, and that he believed he should be able to send me as\nmuch tobacco to England from it as would yield me about \u00a3100 a year,\nsometimes more.\nThis was all strange news to me, and things I had not been used to; and\nreally my heart began to look up more seriously than I think it ever\ndid before, and to look with great thankfulness to the hand of\nProvidence, which had done such wonders for me, who had been myself the\ngreatest wonder of wickedness perhaps that had been suffered to live in\nthe world. And I must again observe, that not on this occasion only,\nbut even on all other occasions of thankfulness, my past wicked and\nabominable life never looked so monstrous to me, and I never so\ncompletely abhorred it, and reproached myself with it, as when I had a\nsense upon me of Providence doing good to me, while I had been making\nthose vile returns on my part.\nBut I leave the reader to improve these thoughts, as no doubt they will\nsee cause, and I go on to the fact. My son\u2019s tender carriage and kind\noffers fetched tears from me, almost all the while he talked with me.\nIndeed, I could scarce discourse with him but in the intervals of my\npassion; however, at length I began, and expressing myself with wonder\nat my being so happy to have the trust of what I had left, put into the\nhands of my own child, I told him, that as to the inheritance of it, I\nhad no child but him in the world, and was now past having any if I\nshould marry, and therefore would desire him to get a writing drawn,\nwhich I was ready to execute, by which I would, after me, give it\nwholly to him and to his heirs. And in the meantime, smiling, I asked\nhim what made him continue a bachelor so long. His answer was kind and\nready, that Virginia did not yield any great plenty of wives, and that\nsince I talked of going back to England, I should send him a wife from\nLondon.\nThis was the substance of our first day\u2019s conversation, the pleasantest\nday that ever passed over my head in my life, and which gave me the\ntruest satisfaction. He came every day after this, and spent a great\npart of his time with me, and carried me about to several of his\nfriends\u2019 houses, where I was entertained with great respect. Also I\ndined several times at his own house, when he took care always to see\nhis half-dead father so out of the way that I never saw him, or he me.\nI made him one present, and it was all I had of value, and that was one\nof the gold watches, of which I mentioned above, that I had two in my\nchest, and this I happened to have with me, and I gave it him at his\nthird visit. I told him I had nothing of any value to bestow but that,\nand I desired he would now and then kiss it for my sake. I did not\nindeed tell him that I had stole it from a gentlewoman\u2019s side, at a\nmeeting-house in London. That\u2019s by the way.\nHe stood a little while hesitating, as if doubtful whether to take it\nor no; but I pressed it on him, and made him accept it, and it was not\nmuch less worth than his leather pouch full of Spanish gold; no, though\nit were to be reckoned as if at London, whereas it was worth twice as\nmuch there, where I gave it him. At length he took it, kissed it, told\nme the watch should be a debt upon him that he would be paying as long\nas I lived.\nA few days after he brought the writings of gift, and the scrivener\nwith them, and I signed them very freely, and delivered them to him\nwith a hundred kisses; for sure nothing ever passed between a mother\nand a tender, dutiful child with more affection. The next day he brings\nme an obligation under his hand and seal, whereby he engaged himself to\nmanage and improve the plantation for my account, and with his utmost\nskill, and to remit the produce to my order wherever I should be; and\nwithal, to be obliged himself to make up the produce \u00a3100 a year to me.\nWhen he had done so, he told me that as I came to demand it before the\ncrop was off, I had a right to produce of the current year, and so he\npaid me \u00a3100 in Spanish pieces of eight, and desired me to give him a\nreceipt for it as in full for that year, ending at Christmas following;\nthis being about the latter end of August.\nI stayed here about five weeks, and indeed had much ado to get away\nthen. Nay, he would have come over the bay with me, but I would by no\nmeans allow him to it. However, he would send me over in a sloop of his\nown, which was built like a yacht, and served him as well for pleasure\nas business. This I accepted of, and so, after the utmost expressions\nboth of duty and affection, he let me come away, and I arrived safe in\ntwo days at my friend\u2019s the Quaker\u2019s.\nI brought over with me for the use of our plantation, three horses,\nwith harness and saddles, some hogs, two cows, and a thousand other\nthings, the gift of the kindest and tenderest child that ever woman\nhad. I related to my husband all the particulars of this voyage, except\nthat I called my son my cousin; and first I told him that I had lost my\nwatch, which he seemed to take as a misfortune; but then I told him how\nkind my cousin had been, that my mother had left me such a plantation,\nand that he had preserved it for me, in hopes some time or other he\nshould hear from me; then I told him that I had left it to his\nmanagement, that he would render me a faithful account of its produce;\nand then I pulled him out the \u00a3100 in silver, as the first year\u2019s\nproduce; and then pulling out the deerskin purse with the pistoles,\n\u201cAnd here, my dear,\u201d says I, \u201cis the gold watch.\u201d My husband\u2014so is\nHeaven\u2019s goodness sure to work the same effects in all sensible minds\nwhere mercies touch the heart\u2014lifted up both hands, and with an ecstacy\nof joy, \u201cWhat is God a-doing,\u201d says he, \u201cfor such an ungrateful dog as\nI am!\u201d Then I let him know what I had brought over in the sloop,\nbesides all this; I mean the horses, hogs, and cows, and other stores\nfor our plantation; all which added to his surprise, and filled his\nheart with thankfulness; and from this time forward I believe he was as\nsincere a penitent, and as thoroughly a reformed man, as ever God\u2019s\ngoodness brought back from a profligate, a highwayman, and a robber. I\ncould fill a larger history than this with the evidence of this truth,\nand but that I doubt that part of the story will not be equally\ndiverting as the wicked part, I have had thoughts of making a volume of\nit by itself.\nAs for myself, as this is to be my own story, not my husband\u2019s, I\nreturn to that part which related to myself. We went on with our\nplantation, and managed it with the help and diversion of such friends\nas we got there by our obliging behaviour, and especially the honest\nQuaker, who proved a faithful, generous, and steady friend to us; and\nwe had very good success, for having a flourishing stock to begin with,\nas I have said, and this being now increased by the addition of \u00a3150\nsterling in money, we enlarged our number of servants, built us a very\ngood house, and cured every year a great deal of land. The second year\nI wrote to my old governess, giving her part with us of the joy of our\nsuccess, and order her how to lay out the money I had left with her,\nwhich was \u00a3250 as above, and to send it to us in goods, which she\nperformed with her usual kindness and fidelity, and this arrived safe\nto us.\nHere we had a supply of all sorts of clothes, as well for my husband as\nfor myself; and I took especial care to buy for him all those things\nthat I knew he delighted to have; as two good long wigs, two\nsilver-hilted swords, three or four fine fowling-pieces, a fine saddle\nwith holsters and pistols very handsome, with a scarlet cloak; and, in\na word, everything I could think of to oblige him, and to make him\nappear, as he really was, a very fine gentleman. I ordered a good\nquantity of such household stuff as we yet wanted, with linen of all\nsorts for us both. As for myself, I wanted very little of clothes or\nlinen, being very well furnished before. The rest of my cargo consisted\nin iron-work of all sorts, harness for horses, tools, clothes for\nservants, and woollen cloth, stuffs, serges, stockings, shoes, hats,\nand the like, such as servants wear; and whole pieces also to make up\nfor servants, all by direction of the Quaker; and all this cargo\narrived safe, and in good condition, with three woman-servants, lusty\nwenches, which my old governess had picked for me, suitable enough to\nthe place, and to the work we had for them to do; one of which happened\nto come double, having been got with child by one of the seamen in the\nship, as she owned afterwards, before the ship got so far as Gravesend;\nso she brought us a stout boy, about seven months after her landing.\nMy husband, you may suppose, was a little surprised at the arriving of\nall this cargo from England; and talking with me after he saw the\naccount of this particular, \u201cMy dear,\u201d says he, \u201cwhat is the meaning of\nall this? I fear you will run us too deep in debt: when shall we be\nable to make return for it all?\u201d I smiled, and told him that it was all\npaid for; and then I told him, that what our circumstances might expose\nus to, I had not taken my whole stock with me, that I had reserved so\nmuch in my friend\u2019s hands, which now we were come over safe, and was\nsettled in a way to live, I had sent for, as he might see.\nHe was amazed, and stood a while telling upon his fingers, but said\nnothing. At last he began thus: \u201cHold, let\u2019s see,\u201d says he, telling\nupon his fingers still, and first on his thumb; \u201cthere\u2019s \u00a3246 in money\nat first, then two gold watches, diamond rings, and plate,\u201d says he,\nupon the forefinger. Then upon the next finger, \u201cHere\u2019s a plantation on\nYork River, \u00a3100 a year, then \u00a3150 in money, then a sloop load of\nhorses, cows, hogs, and stores\u201d; and so on to the thumb again. \u201cAnd\nnow,\u201d says he, \u201ca cargo cost \u00a3250 in England, and worth here twice the\nmoney.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cwhat do you make of all that?\u201d \u201cMake of it?\u201d\nsays he; \u201cwhy, who says I was deceived when I married a wife in\nLancashire? I think I have married a fortune, and a very good fortune\ntoo,\u201d says he.\nIn a word, we were now in very considerable circumstances, and every\nyear increasing; for our new plantation grew upon our hands insensibly,\nand in eight years which we lived upon it, we brought it to such pitch,\nthat the produce was at least \u00a3300 sterling a year; I mean, worth so\nmuch in England.\nAfter I had been a year at home again, I went over the bay to see my\nson, and to receive another year\u2019s income of my plantation; and I was\nsurprised to hear, just at my landing there, that my old husband was\ndead, and had not been buried above a fortnight. This, I confess, was\nnot disagreeable news, because now I could appear as I was, in a\nmarried condition; so I told my son before I came from him, that I\nbelieved I should marry a gentleman who had a plantation near mine; and\nthough I was legally free to marry, as to any obligation that was on me\nbefore, yet that I was shy of it, lest the blot should some time or\nother be revived, and it might make a husband uneasy. My son, the same\nkind, dutiful, and obliging creature as ever, treated me now at his own\nhouse, paid me my hundred pounds, and sent me home again loaded with\npresents.\nSome time after this, I let my son know I was married, and invited him\nover to see us, and my husband wrote a very obliging letter to him\nalso, inviting him to come and see him; and he came accordingly some\nmonths after, and happened to be there just when my cargo from England\ncame in, which I let him believe belonged all to my husband\u2019s estate,\nnot to me.\nIt must be observed that when the old wretch my brother (husband) was\ndead, I then freely gave my husband an account of all that affair, and\nof this cousin, as I had called him before, being my own son by that\nmistaken unhappy match. He was perfectly easy in the account, and told\nme he should have been as easy if the old man, as we called him, had\nbeen alive. \u201cFor,\u201d said he, \u201cit was no fault of yours, nor of his; it\nwas a mistake impossible to be prevented.\u201d He only reproached him with\ndesiring me to conceal it, and to live with him as a wife, after I knew\nthat he was my brother; that, he said, was a vile part. Thus all these\ndifficulties were made easy, and we lived together with the greatest\nkindness and comfort imaginable.\nWe are grown old; I am come back to England, being almost seventy years\nof age, husband sixty-eight, having performed much more than the\nlimited terms of my transportation; and now, notwithstanding all the\nfatigues and all the miseries we have both gone through, we are both of\nus in good heart and health. My husband remained there some time after\nme to settle our affairs, and at first I had intended to go back to\nhim, but at his desire I altered that resolution, and he is come over\nto England also, where we resolve to spend the remainder of our years\nin sincere penitence for the wicked lives we have lived.\n WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1683", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Eleni Christofaki and the Online\nTranscriber's note.\nThis book contains variable punctuation, hyphenation, archaic and\ninconsistent spelling as well as apparent printer errors which have been\nretained as they appear in the original. For the reader's convenience\nthe table on page 146 was split.\n    Mark up: _italics_\n    THE STORM: OR, A COLLECTION Of the most Remarkable CASUALTIES AND\n    DISASTERS Which happen'd in the Late _Dreadful TEMPEST_, BOTH BY SEA\n    and LAND.\n    _The Lord hath his way in the Whirlwind, and in the Storm, and the\n    Clouds are the dust of his Feet._ Nah. I. 3.\n  _LONDON:_\n  Printed for _G. Sawbridge_ in _Little Britain_, and Sold by _J. Nutt_\n  near _Stationers-Hall_. M DCC IV.\nTHE PREFACE\n_Preaching of Sermons is Speaking to a few of Mankind: Printing of\nBooks is Talking to the whole World. The Parson Prescribes himself, and\naddresses to the particular Auditory with the Appellation of_ My\nBrethren; _but he that Prints a Book, ought to Preface it with a_\nNoverint Universi, _Know all Men by these Presents_.\n_The proper Inference drawn from this remarkable Observation, is, That\ntho' he that Preaches from the Pulpit ought to be careful of his Words,\nthat nothing pass from him but with an especial Sanction of Truth; yet\nhe that Prints and Publishes to all the World, has a tenfold\nObligation._\n_The Sermon is a Sound of Words spoken to the Ear, and prepar'd only for\npresent Meditation, and extends no farther than the strength of Memory\ncan convey it; a Book Printed is a Record; remaining in every Man's\nPossession, always ready to renew its Acquaintance with his Memory, and\nalways ready to be produc'd as an Authority or Voucher to any Reports he\nmakes out of it, and conveys its Contents for Ages to come, to the\nEternity of mortal Time, when the Author is forgotten in his Grave._\n_If a Sermon be ill grounded, if the Preacher imposes upon us, he\ntrespasses on a few; but if a Book Printed obtrudes a Falshood, if a Man\ntells a Lye in Print, he abuses Mankind, and imposes upon the whole\nWorld, he causes our Children to tell Lyes after us, and their Children\nafter them, to the End of the World._\n_This Observation I thought good to make by way of Preface, to let the\nWorld know, that when I go about a Work in which I must tell a great\nmany Stories, which may in their own nature seem incredible, and in\nwhich I must expect a great part of Mankind will question the Sincerity\nof the Relator; I did not do it without a particular sence upon me of\nthe proper Duty of an Historian, and the abundant Duty laid on him to be\nvery wary what he conveys to Posterity._\n_I cannot be so ignorant of my own Intentions, as not to know, that in\nmany Cases I shall act the Divine, and draw necessary practical\nInferences from the extraordinary Remarkables of this Book, and some\nDigressions which I hope may not be altogether useless in this Case._\n_And while I pretend to a thing so solemn, I cannot but premise I should\nstand convicted of a double Imposture, to forge a Story, and then preach\nRepentance to the Reader from a Crime greater than that I would have him\nrepent of: endeavouring by a Lye to correct the Reader's Vices, and sin\nagainst Truth to bring the Reader off from sinning against Sence._\n_Upon this score, tho' the Undertaking be very difficult among such an\ninfinite variety of Circumstances, to keep, exactly within the bounds of\nTruth; yet I have this positive Assurance with me, that in all the\nsubsequent Relation, if the least Mistake happen, it shall not be mine._\n_If I judge right, 'Tis the Duty of an Historian to set every thing in\nits own Light, and to convey matter of fact upon its legitimate\nAuthority, and no other: I mean thus, (for I wou'd be as explicit as I\ncan) That where a Story is vouch'd to him with sufficient Authority, he\nought to give the World the Special Testimonial of its proper Voucher,\nor else he is not just to the Story: and where it comes without such\nsufficient Authority, he ought to say so; otherwise he is not just to\nhimself. In the first Case he injures the History, by leaving it\ndoubtful where it might be confirm'd past all manner of question; in the\nlast he injures his own Reputation, by taking upon himself the Risque,\nin case it proves a Mistake, of having the World charge him with a\nForgery._\n_And indeed, I cannot but own 'tis just, that if I tell a Story in Print\nfor a Truth which proves otherwise, unless I, at the same time, give\nproper Caution to the Reader, by owning the Uncertainty of my Knowledge\nin the matter of fact, 'tis I impose upon the World: my Relater is\ninnocent, and the Lye is my own._\n_I make all these preliminary Observations, partly to inform the Reader,\nthat I have not undertaken this Work without the serious Consideration\nof what I owe to Truth, and to Posterity; nor without a Sence of the\nextraordinary Variety and Novelty of the Relation._\n_I am sensible, that the want of this Caution is the Foundation of that\ngreat Misfortune we have in matters of ancient History; in which the\nImpudence, the Ribaldry, the empty Flourishes, the little Regard to\nTruth, and the Fondness of telling a strange Story, has dwindled a great\nmany valuable Pieces of ancient History into meer Romance._\n_How are the Lives of some of our most famous Men, nay the Actions of\nwhole Ages, drowned in Fable? Not that there wanted Pen-men to write,\nbut that their Writings were continually mixt with such Rhodomontades of\nthe Authors that Posterity rejected them as fabulous._\n_From hence it comes to pass that Matters of Fact are handed down to\nPosterity with so little Certainty, that nothing is to be depended upon;\nfrom hence the uncertain Account of Things and Actions in the remoter\nAges of the World, the confounding the Genealogies as well as\nAtchievements of_ Belus, Nimrod, _and_ Nimrus, _and their Successors,\nthe Histories and Originals of_ Saturn, Jupiter, _and the rest of the\nCelestial Rabble, who Mankind would have been asham'd to have call'd_\nGods, _had they had the true Account of their dissolute, exorbitant, and\ninhumane Lives_.\n_From Men we may descend to Action: and this prodigious Looseness of the\nPen has confounded History and Fable from the beginning of both. Thus\nthe great Flood in_ Deucalion'_s_ Time _is made to pass for the\nUniversal Deluge: the Ingenuity of_ Dedalus, _who by a Clue of Thread\ngot out of the_ Egyptian _Maze, which was thought impossible, is grown\ninto a Fable of making himself a pair of Wings, and flying through the\nAir:--the great Drought and violent Heat of Summer, thought to be the\nTime when the Great Famine was in_ Samaria, _fabl'd by the Poets and\nHistorians into the Story of_ Phaeton _borrowing the Chariot of the\nSun, and giving the Horses their Heads, they run so near the Earth as\nburnt up all the nearest Parts, and scorch'd the Inhabitants, so that\nthey have been black in those Parts ever since._\n_These, and such like ridiculous Stuff, have been the Effects of the\nPageantry of Historians in former Ages: and I might descend nearer home,\nto the Legends of Fabulous History which have swallow'd up the Actions\nof our ancient Predecessors, King_ Arthur, _the Gyant_ Gogmagog, _and\nthe_ Britain, _the Stories of St._ George _and the_ Dragon, Guy _Earl\nof_ Warwick, Bevis _of_ Southampton, _and the like_.\n_I'll account for better Conduct in the ensuing History: and tho' some\nThings here related shall have equal Wonder due to them, Posterity shall\nnot have equal Occasion to distrust the Verity of the Relation._\n_I confess here is room for abundance of Romance, because the Subject\nmay be safer extended than in any other case, no Story being capable to\nbe crowded with such Circumstances, but Infinite Power, which is all\nalong concern'd with us in every Relation, is suppos'd capable of making\ntrue._\n_Yet we shall no where so Trespass upon Fact, as to oblige Infinite\nPower to the shewing more Miracles than it intended._\n_It must be allow'd, That when Nature was put into so much Confusion,\nand the Surface of the Earth and Sea felt such extraordinary a Disorder,\ninnumerable Accidents would fall out that till the like Occasion happen\nmay never more be seen, and unless a like Occasion had happen'd could\nnever before be heard of: wherefore the particular Circumstances being\nso wonderful, serve but to remember Posterity of the more wonderful\nExtreme, which was the immediate Cause._\n_The Uses and Application made from this Terrible Doctrine, I leave to\nthe Men of the Pulpit; only take the freedom to observe, that when\nHeaven it self lays down the Doctrine, all Men are summon'd to make\nApplications by themselves._\n_The main Inference I shall pretend to make or at least venture the\nexposing to publick View, in this case, is, the strong Evidence God has\nbeen pleas'd to give in this terrible manner to his own Being, which\nMankind began more than ever to affront and despise: And I cannot but\nhave so much Charity for the worst of my Fellow-Creatures, that I\nbelieve no Man was so hard'ned against the Sence of his Maker, but he\nfelt some Shocks of his wicked Confidence from the Convulsions of Nature\nat this time._\n_I cannot believe any Man so rooted in Atheistical Opinions, as not to\nfind some Cause to doubt whether he was not in the Wrong, and a little\nto apprehend the Possibility of a Supreme Being, when he felt the\nterrible Blasts of this Tempest. I cannot doubt but the Atheist's\nhard'ned Soul trembl'd a little as well as his House, and he felt some\nNature asking him some little Questions; as these_--Am not I mistaken?\nCertainly there is some such thing as a God--What can all this be? What\nis the Matter in the World?\n_Certainly Atheism is one of the most Irrational Principles in the\nWorld; there is something incongruous in it with the Test of Humane\nPolicy, because there is a Risque in the Mistake one way, and none\nanother. If the Christian is mistaken, and it should at last appear that\nthere is no Future State, God or Devil, Reward or Punishment, where is\nthe Harm of it? All he has lost is, that he has practis'd a few needless\nMortifications, and took the pains to live a little more like a Man than\nhe wou'd have done. But if the Atheist is mistaken, he has brought all\nthe Powers, whose Being he deny'd, upon his Back, has provok'd the\nInfinite in the highest manner, and must at last sink under the Anger of\nhim whose Nature he has always disown'd._\n_I would recommend this Thought to any Man to consider of, one Way he\ncan lose nothing, the other he may be undone. Certainly a wise Man would\nnever run such an unequal Risque: a Man cannot answer it to Common\nArguments, the Law of Numbers, and the Rules of Proportion are against\nhim. No Gamester will set at such a Main; no Man will lay such a Wager,\nwhere he may lose, but cannot win._\n_There is another unhappy Misfortune in the Mistake too, that it can\nnever be discover'd till 'tis too late to remedy. He that resolves to\ndie an Atheist, shuts the Door against being convinc'd in time._\n    _If it shou'd so fall out, as who can tell,\n    But that there is a God, a Heaven, and Hell,\n    Mankind had best consider well for Fear,\n    't should be too late when his Mistakes appear._\n_I should not pretend to set up for an Instructor in this Case, were not\nthe Inference so exceeding just; who can but preach where there is such\na Text? when God himself speaks his own Power, he expects we should draw\njust Inferences from it, both for our Selves and our Friends._\n_If one Man, in an Hundred Years, shall arrive at a Conviction of the\nBeing of his Maker, 'tis very well worth my While to write it, and to\nbear the Character of an impertinent Fellow from all the rest._\n_I thought to make some Apology for the Meanness of Stile, and the\nMethod, which may be a little unusual, of Printing Letters from the\nCountry in their own Stile._\n_For the last I only leave this short Reason with the Reader, the Desire\nI had to keep close to the Truth, and hand my Relation with the true\nAuthorities from whence I receiv'd it; together with some Justice to the\nGentlemen concern'd, who, especially in Cases of Deliverances, are\nwilling to record the Testimonial of the Mercies they received, and to\nset their Hands to the humble Acknowledgement. The Plainness and Honesty\nof the Story will plead for the Meanness of the Stile in many of the\nLetters, and the Reader cannot want Eyes to see what sort of People some\nof them come from._\n_Others speak for themselves, and being writ by Men of Letters, as well\nas Men of Principles, I have not Arrogance enough to attempt a\nCorrection either of the Sense or Stile; and if I had gone about it,\nshould have injur'd both Author and Reader._\n_These come dressed in their own Words because I ought not, and those\nbecause I could not mend 'em. I am perswaded, they are all dress'd in\nthe desirable, though unfashionable Garb of Truth, and I doubt not but\nPosterity will read them with Pleasure._\n_The Gentlemen, who have taken the Pains to collect and transmit the\nParticular Relations here made publick, I hope will have their End\nanswered in this Essay, conveying hereby to the Ages to come the Memory\nof the dreadfulest and most universal Judgment that ever Almighty Power\nthought fit to bring upon this Part of the World._\n_And as this was the true Native and Original Design of the first\nUndertaking, abstracted from any Part of the Printer's Advantage, the\nEditor and Undertakers of this Work, having their Ends entirely\nanswer'd, hereby give their humble Thanks to all those Gentlemen who\nhave so far approv'd the Sincerity of their Design as to contribute\ntheir Trouble, and help forward by their just Observations, the\notherwise very difficult Undertaking._\n_If Posterity will but make the desired Improvement both of the\nCollector's Pains, as well as the several Gentlemens Care in furnishing\nthe Particulars, I dare say they will all acknowledge their End fully\nanswer'd, and none more readily than_\n      The Ages Humble Servant.\nTHE STORM\nCHAPTER I\n_Of the Natural Causes and Original of Winds_\nThough a System of Exhalation, Dilation, and Extension, things which the\nAncients founded the Doctrine of Winds upon, be not my direct Business;\nyet it cannot but be needful to the present Design to Note, that the\nDifference in the Opinions of the Ancients, about the Nature and\nOriginal of Winds, is a Leading Step to one Assertion which I have\nadvanc'd in all that I have said with Relation to Winds, _viz._ That\nthere seems to be more of God in the whole Appearance, than in any other\nPart of Operating Nature.\nNor do I think I need explain my self very far in this Notion: I allow\nthe high Original of Nature to be the Great Author of all her Actings,\nand by the strict Rein of his Providence, is the Continual and Exact\nGuide of her Executive Power; but still 'tis plain that in Some of the\nPrincipal Parts of Nature she is Naked to our Eye, Things appear both in\ntheir Causes and Consequences, Demonstration gives its Assistance, and\nfinishes our further Enquiries: for we never enquire after God in those\nWorks of Nature which depending upon the Course of Things are plain and\ndemonstrative; but where we find Nature defective in her Discovery,\nwhere we see Effects but cannot reach their Causes; there 'tis most\njust, and Nature her self seems to direct us to it, to end the rational\nEnquiry, and resolve it into Speculation: Nature plainly refers us\nbeyond her Self, to the Mighty Hand of Infinite Power, the Author of\nNature, and Original of all Causes.\nAmong these Arcana of the Sovereign Oeconomy, the Winds are laid as far\nback as any. Those Ancient Men of Genius who rifled Nature by the\nTorch-Light of Reason even to her very Nudities, have been run a-ground\nin this unknown Channel; the Wind has blown out the Candle of Reason,\nand left them all in the Dark.\n_Aristotle_, in his Problems, Sect. 23. calls the Wind _Aeris Impulsum_.\n_Seneca_ says, _Ventus est Aer Fluens_. The _Stoicks_ held it, _Motum\naut Fluxionem Aeris_. Mr. _Hobs_, Air mov'd in a direct or undulating\nMotion. Fournier, _Le Vent et un Movement Agitation de l'Air Causi par\ndes Exhalations et Vapours_. The Moderns, a Hot and Dry Exhalation\nrepuls'd by Antiperistasis; _Des Cartes_ defines it, _Venti Nihil sunt\nnisi Moti & Dilati Vapores_. And various other Opinions are very\njudiciously collected by the Learned Mr. _Bohun_ in his Treatise of the\nOrigin and Properties of Wind, P. 7. and concludes, '_That no one\nHypothesis, how Comprehensive soever, has yet been able to resolve all\nthe Incident Phenomena of Winds_. Bohun _of Winds_, P. 9.\nThis is what I quote them for, and this is all my Argument demands; the\ndeepest Search into the Region of Cause and Consequence, has found out\njust enough to leave the wisest Philosopher in the dark, to bewilder his\nHead, and drown his Understanding. You raise a Storm in Nature by the\nvery Inquiry; and at last, to be rid of you, she confesses the Truth,\nand tells you, _It is not in Me, you must go Home and ask my Father_.\nWhether then it be the Motion of Air, and what that Air is, _which as\nyet is undefin'd_, whether it is a Dilation, a previous Contraction, and\nthen violent Extension as in Gun-Powder, whether the Motion is Direct,\nCircular, or Oblique, whether it be an Exhalation repuls'd by the Middle\nRegion, and the Antiperistasis of that Part of the Heavens which is set\nas a Wall of Brass to bind up the Atmosphere, and keep it within its\nproper Compass for the Functions of Respiration, Condensing and\nRarifying, without which Nature would be all in Confusion; whatever are\ntheir efficient Causes, 'tis not much to the immediate Design.\n'Tis apparent, that God Almighty, whom the Philosophers care as little\nas possible to have any thing to do with, seems to have reserv'd this,\nas one of those Secrets in Nature which should more directly guide them\nto himself.\nNot but that a Philosopher may be a Christian, and some of the best of\nthe Latter have been the best of the Former, as _Vossius_, Mr. _Boyle_,\nSir _Walter Raleigh_, Lord _Verulam_, Dr. _Harvey_, and others; and I\nwish I could say Mr. _Hobbs_, for 'twas Pity there should lie any just\nExceptions to the Piety of a Man, who had so few to his General\nKnowledge, and an exalted Spirit in Philosophy.\nWhen therefore I say the Philosophers do not care to concern God himself\nin the Search after Natural Knowledge; I mean, as it concerns Natural\nKnowledge, _meerly as such_; for 'tis a Natural Cause they seek, from a\nGeneral Maxim, That all Nature has its Cause within it self: 'tis true,\n'tis the Darkest Part of the Search, to trace the Chain backward; to\nbegin at the Consequence, and from thence _hunt Counter_, as we may call\nit, to find out the Cause: 'twould be much easier if we could begin at\nthe Cause, and trace it to all its Consequences.\nI make no Question, the Search would be equally to the Advantage of\nScience, and the Improvement of the World; for without Doubt there are\nsome Consequences of known Causes which are not yet discover'd, and I am\nas ready to believe there are yet in Nature some _Terra Incognita_ both\nas to Cause and Consequence too.\nIn this Search after Causes, the Philosopher, tho' he may at the same\nTime be a very good Christian, cares not at all to meddle with his\nMaker: the Reason is plain; We may at any time resolve all things into\nInfinite Power, and we do allow that the Finger of Infinite is the First\nMighty Cause of Nature her self: but the Treasury of Immediate Cause is\ngenerally committed to Nature; and if at any Time we are driven to look\nbeyond her, 'tis because we are out of the way: 'tis not because it is\nnot in her, but because we cannot find it.\nTwo Men met in the Middle of a great Wood; One was searching for a Plant\nwhich grew in the Wood, the Other had lost himself in the Wood, and\nwanted to get out: The Latter rejoyc'd when thro' the Trees he saw the\nopen Country: but the Other Man's Business was not to get out, but to\nfind what he look'd for: yet this Man no more undervalued the\nPleasantness of the Champion Country than the other.\nThus in Nature the Philosopher's Business is not to look through Nature,\nand come to the vast open Field of Infinite Power; his Business is in\nthe Wood; there grows the Plant he looks for; and 'tis there he must\nfind it. Philosophy's a-ground if it is forc'd to any further Enquiry.\nThe Christian begins just where the Philosopher ends; and when the\nEnquirer turns his Eyes up to Heaven, Farewel Philosopher; 'tis a Sign\nhe can make nothing of it here.\n_David_ was a good Man, the Scripture gives him that Testimony; but I am\nof the Opinion, he was a better King than a Scholar, more a Saint than a\nPhilosopher: and it seems very proper to judge that _David_ was upon the\nSearch of Natural Causes, and found himself puzzled as to the Enquiry,\nwhen he finishes the Enquiry with two pious Ejaculations, _When I view\nthe Heavens the Works of thy Hands, the Moon and the Stars which thou\nhast made; then I say, what is Man_! _David_ may very rationally be\nsuppos'd to be searching the Causes, Motions, and Influences of Heavenly\nBodies; and finding his Philosophy a-ground, and the Discovery not to\nanswer his Search, he turns it all to a pious Use, recognizes Infinite\nPower, and applies it to the Exstasies and Raptures of his Soul, which\nwere always employ'd in the Charm of exalted Praise.\nThus in another Place we find him dissecting the Womb of his Mother, and\ndeep in the Study of Anatomy; but having, as it may be well supposed, no\nHelp from _Johan Remelini_, or of the Learned _Riolanus_, and other\nAnatomists, famous for the most exquisite Discovery of human Body, and\nall the Vessels of Life, with their proper Dimensions and Use, all\n_David_ could say to the Matter was, _Good Man_, to look up to Heaven,\nand admire what he could not understand, _Psal.--I was fearfully and\nwonderfully made_, &c.\nThis is very Good, and well becomes a Pulpit; but what's all this to a\nPhilosopher? 'Tis not enough for him to know that God has made the\nHeavens, the Moon, and the Stars, but must inform himself where he has\nplac'd them, and why there; and what their Business, what their\nInfluences, their Functions, and the End of their Being. 'Tis not enough\nfor an Anatomist to know that he is fearfully and wonderfully made in\nthe lowermost Part of the Earth, but he must see those lowermost Parts;\nsearch into the Method Nature proceeds upon in the performing the Office\nappointed, must search the Steps she takes, the Tools she works by; and\nin short, know all that the God of Nature has permitted to be capable of\nDemonstration.\nAnd it seems a just Authority for our Search, that some things are so\nplac'd in Nature by a Chain of Causes and Effects, that upon a diligent\nSearch we may find out what we look for: To search after what God has in\nhis Sovereignty thought fit to conceal, may be criminal, and doubtless\nis so; and the Fruitlesness of the Enquiry is generally Part of the\nPunishment to a vain Curiosity: but to search after what our Maker has\nnot hid, only cover'd with a thin Veil of Natural Obscurity, and which\nupon our Search is plain to be read, seems to be justified by the very\nNature of the thing, and the Possibility of the Demonstration is an\nArgument to prove the Lawfulness of the Enquiry.\nThe Design of this Digression, is, in short, That as where Nature is\nplain to be search'd into, and Demonstration easy, the Philosopher is\nallow'd to seek for it; so where God has, as it were, laid his Hand upon\nany Place, and Nature presents us with an universal Blank, we are\ntherein led as naturally to recognize the Infinite Wisdom and Power of\nthe God of Nature, as _David_ was in the Texts before quoted.\nAnd this is the Case here; the Winds are some of those Inscrutables of\nNature, in which humane Search has not yet been able to arrive at any\nDemonstration.\n'The Winds,' _says the Learned Mr._ Bohun, 'are generated in the\nIntermediate Space between the Earth and the Clouds, either by\nRarefaction or Repletion, and sometimes haply by pressure of Clouds,\nElastical Virtue of the Air, &c. from the Earth or Seas, as by Submarine\nor Subterraneal Eruption or Descension or Resilition from the middle\nRegion.'\nAll this, though no Man is more capable of the Enquiry than this\nGentleman, yet to the Demonstration of the thing, amounts to no more\nthan what we had before, and still leaves it as Abstruse and Cloudy to\nour Understanding as ever.\nNot but that I think my self bound in Duty to Science in General, to pay\na just Debt to the Excellency of Philosophical Study, in which I am a\nmeer Junior, and hardly any more than an Admirer; and therefore I cannot\nbut allow that the Demonstrations made of Rarefaction and Dilatation are\nextraordinary; and that by Fire and Water Wind may be rais'd in a close\nRoom, as the Lord _Verulam_ made Experiment in the Case of his Feathers.\nBut that therefore all the Causes of Wind are from the Influences of the\nSun upon vaporous Matter first Exhal'd, which being Dilated are oblig'd\nto possess themselves of more Space than before, and consequently make\nthe Particles fly before them; this does not seem to be a sufficient\nDemonstration of Wind: for this, to my weak Apprehension, would rather\nmake a Blow like Gun-Powder than a rushing forward; at best this is\nindeed a probable Conjecture, but admits not of Demonstration equal to\nother Ph\u00e6nomena in Nature.\nAnd this is all I am upon, _viz._ That this Case has not equal Proofs of\nthe Natural Causes of it that we meet with in other Cases: The Scripture\nseems to confirm this, when it says in one Place, _He holds the Wind in\nhis Hand_; as if he should mean, Other things are left to the Common\nDiscoveries of Natural Inquiry, but this is a thing he holds in his own\nHand, and has conceal'd it from the Search of the most Diligent and\nPiercing Understanding: This is further confirm'd by the Words of our\nSaviour, _The Wind blows where it listeth, and thou hearest the Sound\nthereof, but knowest not whence it cometh_; 'tis plainly express'd to\nsignify that the Causes of the Wind are not equally discover'd by\nNatural Enquiry as the rest of Nature is.\nIf I would carry this Matter on, and travel into the Seas, and Mountains\nof _America_, where the Mansones, the Trade-Winds, the Sea-Breezes, and\nsuch Winds as we have little Knowledge of, are more common; it would yet\nmore plainly appear, _That we hear the Sound, but know not from whence\nthey come._\nNor is the Cause of their Motion parallel to the Surface of the Earth,\na less Mystery than their real Original, or the Difficulty of their\nGeneration: and though some People have been forward to prove the\nGravity of the Particles must cause the Motion to be oblique; 'tis plain\nit must be very little so, or else Navigation would be impracticable,\nand in extroardinary Cases where the Pressure above is perpendicular, it\nhas been fatal to Ships, Houses, _&c._ and would have terrible Effects\nin the World, if it should more frequently be so.\nFrom this I draw only this Conclusion, That the Winds are a Part of the\nWorks of God by Nature, in which he has been pleased to communicate less\nof Demonstration to us than in other Cases; that the Particulars more\ndirectly lead us to Speculations, and refer us to Infinite Power more\nthan the other Parts of Nature does.\nThat the Wind is more expressive and adapted to his Immediate Power, as\nhe is pleas'd to exert it in extraordinary Cases in the World.\nThat 'tis more frequently made use of as the Executioner of his\nJudgments in the World, and extraordinary Events are brought to pass by\nit.\nFrom these three Heads we are brought down directly to speak of the\nParticular Storm before us; _viz._ The Greatest, the Longest in\nDuration, the widest in Extent, of all the Tempests and Storms that\nHistory gives any Account of since the Beginning of Time.\nIn the further Conduct of the Story, 'twill not be foreign to the\nPurpose, nor unprofitable to the Reader, to review the Histories of\nancient Time and remote Countries, and examine in what Manner God has\nbeen pleas'd to execute his Judgments by Storms and Tempests; what kind\nof things they have been, and what the Consequences of them; and then\nbring down the Parallel to the Dreadful Instance before us.\nWe read in the Scripture of Two Great Storms; One past, and the Other to\ncome. Whether the last be not Allegorical rather than Prophetical, I\nshall not busie my self to determine.\nThe First was when God caused a strong Wind to blow upon the Face of the\nDelug'd World; to put a stop to the Flood, and reduce the Waters to\ntheir proper Channel.\nI wish our Naturalists would explain that Wind to us, and tell us which\nway it blew, or how it is possible that any direct Wind could cause the\nWaters to ebb; for to me it seems, that the Deluge being universal, that\nWind which blew the Waters from one Part must blow them up in another.\nWhether it was not some perpendicular Gusts that might by their Force\nseparate the Water and the Earth, and cause the Water driven from off\nthe Land to _subside_ by its own Pressure.\nI shall dive no farther into that mysterious Deluge, which has some\nthings in it which recommend the Story rather to our Faith than\nDemonstration.\nThe Other Storm I find in the Scripture is in the _God shall rain upon\nthe Wicked, Plagues, Fire, and a horrible Tempest_. What this shall be,\nwe wait to know; and happy are they who shall be secured from its\nEffects.\nHistories are full of Instances of violent Tempests and Storms in sundry\nparticular Places. What that was, which mingled with such violent\nLightnings set the Cities of _Sodom_ and _Gomorrah_ on fire, remains to\nme yet undecided: nor am I satisfied the Effect it had on the Waters of\nthe Lake, which are to this Day call'd the _Dead Sea_, are such as some\nfabulous Authors have related, and as Travellers take upon them to say.\nCHAPTER II\n_Of the Opinion of the Ancients, That this Island was more Subject to\nStorms than other Parts of the World_\nI am not of Opinion with the early Ages of the World, when these Islands\nwere first known, that they were the most Terrible of any Part of the\nWorld for Storms and Tempests.\n_Cambden_ tells us, The _Britains_ were distinguish'd from all the World\nby unpassable Seas and terrible Northern Winds, which made the _Albion_\nShores dreadful to Sailors; and this part of the World was therefore\nreckoned the utmost Bounds of the Northern known Land, beyond which none\nhad ever sailed: and quotes a great variety of ancient Authors to this\npurpose; some of which I present as a Specimen.\n      _Et Penitus Toto Divisos Orbe Britannos.\n    Britain's_ disjoyn'd from all the well known World.\n        _Quem Littus adusta,\n    Horrescit Lybi\u00e6, ratibusq; Impervia_ [A]Thule\n      _Ignotumq; Fretum_.\n      Claud.\n[A: Taken frequently for _Britain_.]\nAnd if the Notions the World then had were true, it would be very absurd\nfor us who live here to pretend Miracles in any Extremes of Tempests;\nsince by what the Poets of those Ages flourish'd about stormy Weather,\nwas the native and most proper Epithet of the Place:\n    _Belluosus qui remotis\n    Obstrepit Oceanus_ Britannis.\nNay, some are for placing the Nativity of the Winds hereabouts, as if\nthey had been all generated here, and the Confluence of Matter had made\nthis Island its General Rendezvouz.\nBut I shall easily show, that there are several Places in the World far\nbetter adapted to be the General Receptacle or Centre of Vapours, to\nsupply a Fund of Tempestuous Matter, than _England_; as particularly the\nvast Lakes of _North America_: Of which afterwards.\nAnd yet I have two Notions, one real, one imaginary, of the Reasons\nwhich gave the Ancients such terrible Apprehensions of this Part of the\nWorld; which of late we find as Habitable and Navigable as any of the\nrest.\nThe real Occasion I suppose thus: That before the Multitude and Industry\nof Inhabitants prevail'd to the managing, enclosing, and improving the\nCountry, the vast Tract of Land in this Island which continually lay\nopen to the Flux of the Sea, and to the Inundations of Land-Waters, were\nas so many standing Lakes; from whence the Sun continually exhaling vast\nquantities of moist Vapours, the Air could not but be continually\ncrowded with all those Parts of necessary Matter to which we ascribe the\nOriginal of Winds, Rains, Storms, and the like.\nHe that is acquainted with the situation of _England_, and can reflect\non the vast Quantities of flat Grounds, on the Banks of all our\nnavigable Rivers, and the Shores of the Sea, which Lands at Least lying\nunder Water every Spring-Tide, and being thereby continually full of\nmoisture, were like a stagnated standing body of Water brooding Vapours\nin the Interval of the Tide, must own that at least a fifteenth part of\nthe whole Island may come into this Denomination.\nLet him that doubts the Truth of this, examine a little the Particulars;\nlet him stand upon _Shooters-Hill_ in _Kent_, and view the Mouth of the\nRiver _Thames_, and consider what a River it must be when none of the\nMarshes on either side were wall'd in from the Sea, and when the Sea\nwithout all question flow'd up to the Foot of the Hills on either Shore,\nand up every Creek, where he must allow is now dry Land on either side\nthe River for two Miles in breadth at least, sometimes three or four,\nfor above forty Miles on both sides the River.\nLet him farther reflect, how all these Parts lay when, as our ancient\nHistories relate, the _Danish_ Fleet came up almost to _Hartford_, so\nthat all that Range of fresh Marshes which reach for twenty five Miles\nin length, from _Ware_ to the River _Thames_, must be a Sea.\nIn short, Let any such considering Person imagine the vast Tract of\nMarsh-Lands on both sides the River _Thames_, to _Harwich_ on the\n_Essex_ side, and to _Whitstable_ on the _Kentish_ side, the Levels of\nMarshes up the _Stour_ from _Sandwich_ to _Canterbury_, the whole Extent\nof Lowgrounds commonly call'd _Rumney-Marsh_, from _Hythe_ to\n_Winchelsea_, and up the Banks of the _Rother_; all which put together,\nand being allow'd to be in one place cover'd with Water, what a Lake\nwou'd it be suppos'd to make? According to the nicest Calculations I can\nmake, it cou'd not amount to less than 500000 Acres of Land.\nThe Isle of _Ely_, with the _Flats_ up the several Rivers from\n_Yarmouth_ to _Norwich_, _Beccles_, &c. the continu'd Levels in the\nseveral Counties of _Norfolk_, _Cambridge_, _Suffolk_, _Huntingdon_,\n_Northampton_, and _Lincoln_, I believe do really contain as much Land\nas the whole County of _Norfolk_; and 'tis not many Ages since these\nCounties were universally one vast Moras or Lough, and the few solid\nparts wholly unapproachable: insomuch that the Town of _Ely_ it self was\na Receptacle for the Malecontents of the Nation, where no reasonable\nForce cou'd come near to dislodge them.\n'Tis needless to reckon up twelve or fourteen like Places in _England_,\nas the Moores in _Somersetshire_, the Flat-shores in _Lancashire_,\n_Yorkshire_, and _Durham_, the like in _Hampshire_ and _Sussex_; and in\nshort, on the Banks of every Navigable River.\nThe sum of the matter is this; That while this Nation was thus full of\nstanding Lakes, stagnated Waters, and moist Places, the multitude of\nExhalations must furnish the Air with a quantity of Matter for Showers\nand Storms infinitely more than it can be now supply'd withal, those\nvast Tracts of Land being now fenc'd off, laid dry, and turn'd into\nwholsome and profitable Provinces.\nThis seems demonstrated from _Ireland_, where the multitude of Loughs,\nLakes, Bogs, and moist Places, serve the Air with Exhalations, which\ngive themselves back again in Showers, and make it be call'd, _The\nPiss-pot of the World_.\nThe imaginary Notion I have to advance on this Head, amounts only to a\nReflection upon the Skill of those Ages in the Art of Navigation; which\nbeing far short of what it is since arrived to, made these vast Northern\nSeas too terrible for them to venture in: and accordingly, they rais'd\nthose Apprehensions up to Fable, which began only in their want of\nJudgment.\nThe _Phoenicians_, who were our first Navigators, the _Genoese_, and\nafter them the _Portuguese_, who arriv'd to extraordinary Proficiency in\nSea Affairs, were yet all of them, _as we say_, Fair-weather Sea-men:\nThe chief of their Navigation was Coasting; and if they were driven out\nof their Knowledge, had work enough to find their way home, and\nsometimes never found it at all; but one Sea convey'd them directly into\nthe last Ocean, from whence no Navigation cou'd return them.\nWhen these, by Adventures, or Misadventures rather, had at any time\nextended their Voyaging as far as this Island, which, by the way, they\nalways perform'd round the Coast of _Spain_, _Portugal_, and _France_;\nif ever such a Vessel return'd, if ever the bold Navigator arriv'd at\nhome, he had done enough to talk on all his Days, and needed no other\nDiversion among his Neighbours, than to give an Account of the vast\nSeas, mighty Rocks, deep Gulfs, and prodigious Storms he met with in\nthese remote Parts of the known World: and this, magnified by the\nPoetical Arts of the Learned Men of those times, grew into a receiv'd\nMaxim of Navigation, That these Parts were so full of constant Tempests,\nStorms, and dangerous Seas, that 'twas present Death to come near them,\nand none but Madmen and Desperadoes could have any Business there, since\nthey were Places where Ships never came, and Navigation was not proper\nin the Place.\n    And _Thule_, where no Passage was\n      For Ships their Sails to bear.\n_Horace_ has reference to this horrid Part of the World, as a Place full\nof terrible Monsters, and fit only for their Habitation, in the Words\nbefore quoted.\n         _Belluosus qui remotis\n    Obstrepit Oceanus Britannis._\n_Juvenal_ follows his Steps;\n    _Quanto Delphino Bal\u00e6na Britannica major._\nSuch horrid Apprehensions those Ages had of these Parts, which by our\nExperience, and the Prodigy to which Navigation in particular, and\nSciential Knowledge in general, is since grown, appear very ridiculous.\nFor we find no Danger in our Shores, no uncertain wavering in our Tides,\nno frightful Gulfs, no horrid Monsters, but what the bold Mariner has\nmade familiar to him. The Gulfs which frighted those early Sons of\n_Neptune_ are search'd out by our Seamen, and made useful Bays, Roads,\nand Harbours of Safety. The Promontories which running out into the Sea\ngave them terrible Apprehensions of Danger, are our Safety, and make the\nSailors Hearts glad, as they are the first Lands they make when they are\ncoming Home from a long Voyage, or as they are a good shelter when in a\nStorm our Ships get _under their Lee_.\nOur Shores are sounded, the Sands and Flats are discovered, which they\nknew little or nothing of, and in which more real Danger lies, than in\nall the frightful Stories they told us; useful Sea-marks and\nLand-figures are plac'd on the Shore, Buoys on the Water, Light-houses\non the highest Rocks; and all these dreadful Parts of the World are\nbecome the Seat of Trade, and the Centre of Navigation: Art has\nreconcil'd all the Difficulties, and Use made all the _Horribles_ and\n_Terribles_ of those Ages become as natural and familiar as Day-light.\nThe Hidden Sands, almost the only real Dread of a Sailor, and by which\ntill the Channels between them were found out, our Eastern Coast must be\nreally unpassable, now serve to make Harbours: and _Yarmouth_ Road was\nmade a safe Place for Shipping by them. Nay, when _Portsmouth_,\n_Plymouth_, and other good Harbours would not defend our Ships in the\nViolent Tempest we are treating of, here was the least Damage done of\nany Place in _England_, considering the Number of Ships which lay at\nAnchor, and the Openness of the Place.\nSo that upon the whole it seems plain to me, that all the dismal things\nthe Ancients told us of _Britain_, and her terrible Shores, arose from\nthe Infancy of Marine Knowledge, and the Weakness of the Sailor's\nCourage.\nNot but that I readily allow we are more subject to bad Weather and hard\nGales of Wind than the Coasts of _Spain_, _Italy_, and _Barbary_. But if\nthis be allow'd, our Improvement in the Art of Building Ships is so\nconsiderable, our Vessels are so prepar'd to ride out the most violent\nStorms, that the Fury of the Sea is the least thing our Sailors fear:\nKeep them but from _a Lee Shore_, or touching upon a Sand, they'll\nventure all the rest: and nothing is a greater satisfaction to them, if\nthey have a Storm in view, than a sound Bottom and good _Sea-room_.\nFrom hence it comes to pass, that such Winds as in those Days wou'd have\npass'd for Storms, are called only a _Fresh-gale_, or _Blowing hard_. If\nit blows enough to fright a South Country Sailor, we laugh at it: and if\nour Sailors bald Terms were set down in a Table of Degrees, it will\nexplain what we mean.\n    _Stark Calm._    | _A Top-sail Gale._\n    _Calm Weather._  | _Blows fresh._\n    _Little Wind._   | _A hard Gale of Wind._\n    _A fine Breeze._ | _A Fret of Wind._\n    _A small Gale._  | _A Storm._\n    _A fresh Gale._  | _A Tempest._\nJust half these Tarpawlin Articles, I presume, would have pass'd in\nthose Days for a Storm; and that our Sailors call a Top-sail Gale would\nhave drove the Navigators of those Ages into Harbours: when our Sailors\nreef a Top-sail, they would have handed all their Sails; and when we go\nunder a main Course, they would have run _afore it_ for Life to the next\nPort they could make: when our _Hard Gale_ blows, they would have cried\na Tempest; and about the _Fret of Wind_ they would be all at their\nPrayers.\nAnd if we should reckon by this Account we are a stormy Country indeed,\nour Seas are no more Navigable now for such Sailors than they were then:\nIf the _Japoneses_, the _East Indians_, and such like Navigators, were\nto come with their thin Cockleshell Barks and Calico Sails; if\n_Cleopatra's_ Fleet, or _C\u00e6sar's_ great Ships with which he fought the\nBattle of _Actium_, were to come upon our Seas, there hardly comes a\n_March_ or a _September_ in twenty Years but would blow them to Pieces,\nand then the poor Remnant that got Home, would go and talk of a terrible\nCountry where there's nothing but Storms and Tempests; when all the\nMatter is, the Weakness of their Shipping, and the Ignorance of their\nSea-men: and I make no question but our Ships ride out many a worse\nStorm than that terrible Tempest which scatter'd _Julius C\u00e6sar's_ Fleet,\nor the same that drove _\u00c6neas_ on the Coast of _Carthage_.\nAnd in more modern times we have a famous Instance in the _Spanish\nArmada_; which, after it was rather frighted than damag'd by Sir\n_Francis Drake_'s Machines, not then known by the Name of Fireships,\nwere scatter'd by a terrible Storm, and lost upon every Shore.\nThe Case is plain, 'Twas all owing to the Accident of Navigation: They\nhad, no doubt, a hard Gale of Wind, and perhaps a Storm; but they were\nalso on an Enemy's Coast, their Pilots out of their Knowledge, no\nHarbour to run into, and an Enemy a-stern, that when once they\nseparated, Fear drove them from one Danger to another, and away they\nwent to the Northward, where they had nothing but God's Mercy, and the\nWinds and Seas to help them. In all those Storms and Distresses which\nruin'd that Fleet, we do not find an Account of the Loss of one Ship,\neither of the _English_ or _Dutch_; the Queen's Fleet rode it out in the\n_Downs_, which all Men know is none of the best Roads in the World; and\nthe _Dutch_ rode among the Flats of the _Flemish_ Coast, while the vast\nGalleons, not so well fitted for the Weather, were forc'd to keep the\nSea, and were driven to and fro till they had got out of their\nKnowledge; and like Men desperate, embrac'd every Danger they came near.\nThis long Digression I could not but think needful, in order to clear up\nthe Case, having never met with any thing on this Head before: At the\nsame time 'tis allow'd, and Histories are full of the Particulars, that\nwe have often very high Winds, and sometimes violent Tempests in these\nNorthen Parts of the World; but I am still of opinion, such a Tempest\nnever happen'd before as that which is the Subject of these Sheets: and\nI refer the Reader to the Particulars.\nCHAPTER III\n_Of the Storm in General_\nBefore we come to examine the Damage suffer'd by this terrible Night,\nand give a particular Relation of its dismal Effects; 'tis necessary to\ngive a summary Account of the thing it self, with all its affrightning\nCircumstances.\nIt had blown exceeding hard, as I have already observ'd, for about\nfourteen Days past; and that so hard, that we thought it terrible\nWeather: Several Stacks of Chimnies were blown down, and several Ships\nwere lost, and the Tiles in many Places were blown off from the Houses;\nand the nearer it came to the fatal 26_th_ of _November_, the\nTempestuousness of the Weather encreas'd.\nOn the _Wednesday_ Morning before, being the 24_th_ of _November_, it\nwas fair Weather, and blew hard; but not so as to give any\nApprehensions, till about 4 a Clock in the Afternoon the Wind encreased,\nand with Squauls of Rain and terrible Gusts blew very furiously.\nThe Collector of these Sheets narrowly escap'd the Mischief of a Part of\na House, which fell on the Evening of that Day by the Violence of the\nWind; and abundance of Tiles were blown off the Houses that Night: the\nWind continued with unusual Violence all the next Day and Night; and had\nnot the Great Storm follow'd so soon, this had pass'd for a great Wind.\nOn _Friday_ Morning it continued to blow exceeding hard, but not so as\nthat it gave any Apprehensions of Danger within Doors; towards Night it\nencreased: and about 10 a Clock, our Barometers inform'd us that the\nNight would be very tempestuous; the _Mercury_ sunk lower than ever I\nhad observ'd it on any Occasion whatsoever, which made me suppose the\nTube had been handled and disturb'd by the Children.\nBut as my Observations of this Nature are not regular enough to supply\nthe Reader with a full Information, the Disorders of that dreadful Night\nhaving found me other Imployment, expecting every Moment when the House\nI was in would bury us all in its own Ruins; I have therefore subjoin'd\na Letter from an Ingenious Gentleman on this very Head, directed to the\n_Royal Society_, and printed in the _Philosophical Transactions_, No.\n289. P. 1530. as follows.\n    _A Letter from the Reverend Mr._ William Derham, _F.R.S. Containing\n    his Observations concerning the late Storm_.\n    According to my Promise at the general Meeting of the _R.S._ on St.\n    _Andrews_ Day, I here send you inclos'd the Account of my Ingenious\n    and Inquisitive Friend _Richard Townely_, Esq; concerning the State\n    of the Atmosphere in that Part of _Lancashire_ where he liveth, in\n    the late dismal Storm. And I hope it will not be unaccepable, to\n    accompany his with my own Observations at _Upminster_; especially\n    since I shall not weary you with a long History of the Devastations,\n    _&c._ but rather some Particulars of a more Philosophical\n    Consideration.\n    And first, I do not think it improper to look back to the preceding\n    Seasons of the Year. I scarce believe I shall go out of the way, to\n    reflect as far back as _April_, _May_, _June_ and _July_; because\n    all these were wet Months in our Southern Parts. In _April_ there\n    fell 12,49 _l._ of Rain through my Tunnel: And about 6, 7, 8, or 9,\n    _l._ I esteem a moderate quantity for _Upminster. In_ May _there\n    fell more than in any Month of any Year since the Year 1696_, viz.\n    20,77 _l. June_ likewise was a dripping Month, in which fell 14,55\n    _l._ And _July_, although it had considerable Intermissions, yet had\n    14,19 _l._ above 11 _l._ of which fell on _July_ 28_th_ and 29_th_\n    in violent Showers. And I remember the News Papers gave Accounts of\n    great Rains that Month from divers Places of _Europe_; but the\n    _North of England_ (which also escaped the Violence of the late\n    Storm) was not so remarkably wet in any of those Months; at least\n    not in that great proportion more than we, as usually they are; as I\n    guess from the Tables of Rain, with which Mr. _Towneley_ hath\n    favoured me. Particularly _July_ was a dry Month with them, there\n    being no more than 3,65 _l._ of Rain fell through Mr. _Towneley's_\n    Tunnel of the same Diameter with mine.\n    From these Months let us pass to _September_, and that we shall\n    find to have been a wet Month, especially the latter part of it;\n    there fell of Rain in that Month, 14,86 _l._\n    _October_ and _November_ last, although not remarkably wet, yet have\n    been open warm Months for the most part. My Thermometer (whose\n    freezing Point is about 84) hath been very seldom below 100 all this\n    Winter, and especially in _November_.\n    Thus I have laid before you as short Account as I could of the\n    preceding Disposition of the Year, particularly as to wet and\n    warmth, because I am of opinion that these had a great Influence in\n    the late Storm; not only in causing a Repletion of Vapours in the\n    Atmosphere, but also in raising such Nitro-sulphureous or other\n    heterogeneous matter, which when mix'd together might make a sort of\n    Explosion (like fired Gun-powder) in the Atmosphere. And from this\n    Explosion I judge those Corruscations or Flashes in the Storm to\n    have proceeded, which most People as well as my self observed, and\n    which some took for Lightning. But these things I leave to better\n    Judgments, such as that very ingenious Member of our Society, who\n    hath undertaken the Province of the late Tempest; to whom, if you\n    please, you may impart these Papers; Mr. _Halley_ you know I mean.\n    From Preliminaries it is time to proceed nearer to the Tempest it\n    self. And the foregoing Day, _viz. Thursday, Nov._ 25. I think\n    deserveth regard. In the Morning of that day was a little Rain, the\n    Winds high in the Afternoon: S.b.E. and S. In the Evening there was\n    Lightning; and between 9 and 10 of the Clock at Night, a violent,\n    but short Storm of Wind, and much Rain at _Upminster_; and of Hail\n    in some other Places, which did some Damage: There fell in that\n    Storm 1,65 _l._ of Rain. The next Morning, which was _Friday,\n    Novem._ 26. the Wind was S.S.W. and high all Day, and so continued\n    till I was in Bed and asleep. About 12 that Night, the Storm\n    awaken'd me, which gradually encreas'd till near 3 that Morning; and\n    from thence till near 7 it continued in the greatest excess: and\n    then began slowly to abate, and the _Mercury_ to rise swiftly. The\n    Barometer I found at 12 h. \u00bd P.M. at 28,72, where it continued till\n    about 6 the next Morning, or 6\u00bc, and then hastily rose; so that it\n    was gotten to 82 about 8 of the Clock, as in the Table.\n    How the Wind sat during the late Storm I cannot positively say, it\n    being excessively dark all the while, and my Vane blown down also,\n    when I could have seen: But by Information from Millers, and others\n    that were forc'd to venture abroad; and by my own guess, I imagin it\n    to have blown about S.W. by S. or nearer to the S. in the\n    beginning, and to veer about towards the West towards the End of the\n    Storm, as far as W.S.W.\n    The degrees of the Wind's Strength being not measurable (that I know\n    of, though talk'd of) but by guess, I thus determine, with respect\n    to other Storms. On _Feb._ 7. 1698/9. was a terrible Storm that did\n    much damage. This I number 10 degrees; the Wind then W.N.W. _vid.\n    Ph. Tr. No._ 262. Another remarkable Storm was _Feb._ 3. 1701/2. at\n    which time was the greatest descent of the \u263f ever known: This I\n    number 9 degrees. But this last of _November_, I number at least 15\n    degrees.\n    As to the _Stations_ of the _Barometer_, you have Mr. _Towneley_'s\n    and mine in the following Table to be seen at one View.\n    A Table shewing the Height of the _Mercury_ in the Barometer, at\n    _Townely_ and _Upminster_, before, in, and after the Storm\n    | Day   |  Hour | Height of \u263f | Day   | Hour | Height of \u263f |\n    As to _November_ 17_th_ (whereon Mr. _Towneley_ mentions a violent\n    Storm in _Oxfordshire_) it was a Stormy Afternoon here at\n    _Upminster_, accompanied with Rain, but not violent, nor \u263f very\n    low. _November 11th_ and _12th_ had both higher Winds and more Rain;\n    and the \u263f was those Days lower than even in the last Storm of\n    _November_ 26_th_.\n    Thus, Sir, I have given you the truest Account I can, of what I\n    thought most to deserve Observation, both before, and in the late\n    Storm. I could have added some other particulars, but that I fear I\n    have already made my Letter long, and am tedious. I shall therefore\n    only add, that I have Accounts of the Violence of the Storm at\n    _Norwich_, _Beccles_, _Sudbury_, _Colchester_, _Rochford_, and\n    several other intermediate places; but I need not tell Particulars,\n    because I question not but you have better Informations.\n      _Thus far Mr._ Derham_'s Letter_.\nIt did not blow so hard till Twelve a Clock at Night, but that most\nFamilies went to Bed; though many of them not without some Concern at\nthe terrible Wind, which then blew: But about One, or at least by Two a\nClock, 'tis suppos'd, few People, that were capable of any Sense of\nDanger, were so hardy as to lie in Bed. And the Fury of the Tempest\nencreased to such a Degree, that as the Editor of this Account being in\n_London_, and conversing with the People the next Days, understood, most\nPeople expected the Fall of their Houses.\nAnd yet in this general Apprehension, no body durst quit their tottering\nHabitations; for whatever the Danger was within doors, 'twas worse\nwithout; the Bricks, Tiles, and Stones, from the Tops of the Houses,\nflew with such force, and so thick in the Streets, that no one thought\nfit to venture out, tho' their Houses were near demolish'd within.\nThe Author of this Relation was in a well-built brick House in the\nskirts of the City; and a Stack of Chimneys falling in upon the next\nHouses, gave the House such a Shock, that they thought it was just\ncoming down upon their Heads: but opening the Door to attempt an Escape\ninto a Garden, the Danger was so apparent, that they all thought fit to\nsurrender to the Disposal of Almighty Providence, and expect their\nGraves in the Ruins of the House, rather than to meet most certain\nDestruction in the open Garden: for unless they cou'd have gone above\ntwo hundred Yards from any Building, there had been no Security, for the\nForce of the Wind blew the Tiles point-blank, tho' their weight inclines\nthem downward: and in several very broad Streets, we saw the Windows\nbroken by the flying of Tile-sherds from the other side: and where there\nwas room for them to fly, the Author of this has seen Tiles blown from a\nHouse above thirty or forty Yards, and stuck from five to eight Inches\ninto the solid Earth. Pieces of Timber, Iron, and Sheets of Lead, have\nfrom higher Buildings been blown much farther; as in the Particulars\nhereafter will appear.\nIt is the receiv'd Opinion of abundance of People, that they felt,\nduring the impetuous fury of the Wind, several Movements of the Earth;\nand we have several Letters which affirm it: But as an Earthquake must\nhave been so general, that every body must have discern'd it; and as the\nPeople were in their Houses when they imagin'd they felt it, the Shaking\nand Terror of which might deceive their Imagination, and impose upon\ntheir Judgment; I shall not venture to affirm it was so: And being\nresolv'd to use so much Caution in this Relation as to transmit nothing\nto Posterity without authentick Vouchers, and such Testimony as no\nreasonable Man will dispute; so if any Relation come in our way, which\nmay afford us a Probability, tho' it may be related for the sake of its\nStrangeness or Novelty, it shall nevertheless come in the Company of all\nits Uncertainties, and the Reader left to judge of its Truth: for this\nAccount had not been undertaken, but with design to undeceive the World\nin false Relations, and to give an Account back'd with such Authorities,\nas that the Credit of it shou'd admit of no Disputes.\nFor this reason I cannot venture to affirm that there was any such thing\nas an Earthquake; but the Concern and Consternation of all People was so\ngreat, that I cannot wonder at their imagining several things which were\nnot, any more than their enlarging on things that were, since nothing is\nmore frequent, than for Fear to double every Object, and impose upon the\nUnderstanding, strong Apprehensions being apt very often to perswade us\nof the Reality of such things which we have no other reasons to shew for\nthe probability of, than what are grounded in those Fears which prevail\nat that juncture.\nOthers thought they heard it thunder. 'Tis confess'd, the Wind by its\nunusual Violence made such a noise in the Air as had a resemblance to\nThunder; and 'twas observ'd, the roaring had a Voice as much louder than\nusual, as the Fury of the Wind was greater than was ever known: the\nNoise had also something in it more formidable; it sounded aloft, and\nroar'd not very much unlike remote Thunder.\nAnd yet tho' I cannot remember to have heard it thunder, or that I saw\nany Lightning, or heard of any that did in or near _London_; yet in the\nCounties the Air was seen full of Meteors and vaporous Fires: and in\nsome places both Thundrings and unusual Flashes of Lightning, to the\ngreat terror of the Inhabitants.\nAnd yet I cannot but observe here, how fearless such People as are\naddicted to Wickedness, are both of God's Judgments and uncommon\nProdigies; which is visible in this Particular, That a Gang of hardned\nRogues assaulted a Family at _Poplar_, in the very Height of the Storm,\nbroke into the House, and robb'd them: it is observable, that the People\ncryed Thieves, and after that cryed Fire, in hopes to raise the\nNeighbourhood, and to get some Assistance; but such is the Power of\nSelf-Preservation, and such was the Fear, the Minds of the People were\npossess'd with, that no Body would venture out to the Assistance of the\ndistressed Family, who were rifled and plundered in the middle of all\nthe Extremity of the Tempest.\nIt would admit of a large Comment here, and perhaps not very\nunprofitable, to examine from what sad Defect in Principle it must be\nthat Men can be so destitute of all manner of Regard to invisible and\nsuperiour Power, to be acting one of the vilest Parts of a Villain,\nwhile infinite Power was threatning the whole World with Disolation, and\nMultitudes of People expected the Last Day was at Hand.\nSeveral Women in the City of _London_ who were in Travail, or who fell\ninto Travail by the Fright of the Storm, were oblig'd to run the risque\nof being delivered with such Help as they had; and Midwives found their\nown Lives in such Danger, that few of them thought themselves oblig'd to\nshew any Concern for the Lives of others.\nFire was the only Mischief that did not happen to make the Night\ncompleatly dreadful; and yet that was not so every where, for in\n_Norfolk_ the Town of ---- was almost ruin'd by a furious Fire, which\nburnt with such Vehemence, and was so fann'd by the Tempest, that the\nInhabitants had no Power to concern themselves in the extinguishing it;\nthe Wind blew the Flames, together with the Ruines, so about, that there\nwas no standing near it; for if the People came to Windward they were in\nDanger to be blown into the Flames; and if to Leeward the Flames were so\nblown up in their Faces, they could not bear to come near it.\nIf this Disaster had happen'd in _London_, it must have been very fatal;\nfor as no regular Application could have been made for the extinguishing\nit, so the very People in Danger would have had no Opportunity to have\nsav'd their Goods, and hardly their Lives: for though a Man will run any\nRisque to avoid being burnt, yet it must have been next to a Miracle, if\nany Person so oblig'd to escape from the Flames had escap'd being\nknock'd on the Head in the Streets; for the Bricks and Tiles flew about\nlike small Shot; and 'twas a miserable Sight, in the Morning after the\nStorm, to see the Streets covered with Tyle-sherds, and Heaps of\nRubbish, from the Tops of the Houses, lying almost at every Door.\nFrom Two of the Clock the Storm continued, and encreased till Five in\nthe Morning; and from Five, to half an Hour after Six, it blew with the\ngreatest Violence: the Fury of it was so exceeding great for that\nparticular Hour and half, that if it had not abated as it did, nothing\ncould have stood its Violence much longer.\nIn this last Part of the Time the greatest Part of the Damage was done:\nSeveral Ships that rode it out till now, gave up all; for no Anchor\ncould hold. Even the Ships in the River of _Thames_ were all blown away\nfrom their Moorings, and from _Execution-Dock_ to _Lime-House Hole_\nthere was but our Ships that rid it out, the rest were driven down into\nthe _Bite_, as the Sailors call it, from _Bell-Wharf_ to _Lime-House_;\nwhere they were huddeld together and drove on Shore, Heads and Sterns,\none upon another, in such a manner, as any one would have thought it had\nbeen impossible: and the Damage done on that Account was incredible.\nTogether with the Violence of the Wind, the Darkness of the Night added\nto the Terror of it; and as it was just New Moon, the Spring Tides being\nthen up at about Four a Clock, made the Vessels, which were a-float in\nthe River, drive the farther up upon the Shore: of all which, in the\nProcess of this Story, we shall find very strange Instances.\nThe Points from whence the Wind blew, are variously reported from\nvarious Hands: 'Tis certain, it blew all the Day before at S.W. and I\nthought it continued so till about Two a Clock; when, as near as I could\njudge by the Impressions it made on the House, for we durst not look\nout, it veer'd to the S.S.W. then to the W. and about Six a Clock to\nW. by N. and still the more Northward it shifted, the harder it blew,\ntill it shifted again Southerly about Seven a Clock; and as it did so,\nit gradually abated.\nAbout Eight a Clock in the Morning it ceased so much, that our Fears\nwere also abated, and People began to peep out of Doors; but 'tis\nimpossible to express the Concern that appear'd in every Place: the\nDistraction and Fury of the Night was visible in the Faces of the\nPeople, and every Body's first Work was to visit and enquire after\nFriends and Relations. The next Day or Two was almost entirely spent in\nthe Curiosity of the People, in viewing the Havock the Storm had made,\nwhich was so universal in _London_, and especially in the Out-Parts,\nthat nothing can be said sufficient to describe it.\nAnother unhappy Circumstance with which this Disaster was join'd, was a\nprodigious Tide, which happen'd the next Day but one, and was occasion'd\nby the Fury of the Winds: which is also a Demonstration, that the Winds\nveer'd for Part of the Time to the Northward: and as it is observable,\nand known by all that understand our Sea Affairs, that a North West Wind\nmakes the Highest Tide, so this blowing to the Northward, and that with\nsuch unusual Violence, brought up the Sea raging in such a manner, that\nin some Parts of _England_ 'twas incredible, the Water rising Six or\nEight Foot higher than it was ever known to do in the Memory of Man; by\nwhich Ships were fleeted up upon the firm Land several Rods off from the\nBanks, and an incredible Number of Cattle and People drown'd; as in the\nPursuit of this Story will appear.\nIt was a special Providence that so directed the Waters, that in the\nRiver of _Thames_, the Tide, though it rise higher than usual, yet it\ndid not so prodigiously exceed; but the Height of them as it was, prov'd\nvery prejudicial to abundance of People whose Cellars and Ware-houses\nwere near the River; and had the Water risen a Foot higher, all the\nMarshes and Levels on both sides the River had been over-flowed, and a\ngreat part of the Cattle drowned.\nThough the Storm abated with the rising of the Sun, it still blew\nexceeding hard; so hard, that no Boats durst stir out on the River, but\non extraordinary Occasions: and about Three a Clock in the Afternoon,\nthe next Day being _Saturday_, it increas'd again, and we were in a\nfresh Consternation, lest it should return with the same Violence. At\nFour it blew an extreme Storm, with Sudden Gusts as violent as any time\nof the Night; but as it came with a great black Cloud, and some Thunder,\nit brought a hasty Shower of Rain which allay'd the Storm: so that in a\nquarter of an Hour it went off, and only continued blowing as before.\nThis sort of Weather held all _Sabbath-Day_ and _Monday_, till on\n_Tuesday_ Afternoon it encreased again; and all _Tuesday_ Night it blew\nwith such Fury, that many Families were afraid to go to Bed: And had not\nthe former terrible Night harden'd the People to all things less than it\nself, this Night would have pass'd for a Storm fit to have been noted in\nour Almanacks. Several Stacks of Chimneys that stood out the great\nStorm, were blown down in this; several Ships which escap'd in the great\nStorm, perish'd this Night; and several People who had repair'd their\nHouses, had them untiled again. Not but that I may allow those Chimneys\nthat fell now might have been disabled before.\nAt this Rate it held blowing till _Wednesday_ about One a Clock in the\nAfternoon, which was that Day Seven-night on which it began; so that it\nmight be called one continued Storm from _Wednesday_ Noon to _Wednesday_\nNoon: in all which time, there was not one Interval of Time in which a\nSailor would not have acknowledged it blew a Storm; and in that time two\nsuch terrible Nights as I have describ'd.\nAnd this I particularly noted as to Time, _Wednesday, Nov._ the 24_th_\nwas a calm fine Day as at that time of Year shall be seen; till above\nFour a Clock, when it began to be Cloudy, and the Wind rose of a sudden,\nand in half an Hours Time it blew a Storm. _Wednesday, Dec._ the 2_d._\nit was very tempestuous all the Morning; at One a Clock the Wind abated,\nthe Sky clear'd, and by Four a Clock there was not a Breath of Wind.\nThus ended the Greatest and the Longest Storm that ever the World saw.\nThe Effects of this terrible Providence are the Subject of the ensuing\nChapter; and I close this with a Pastoral Poem sent us among the\nAccounts of the Storm from a very ingenious Author, and desir'd to be\npublish'd in this Account.\n    _A PASTORAL, Occasion'd by the Late Violent Storm_\n      _Damon, Melib\u00e6us._\n    _Walking alone by pleasant Isis side\n    Where the two Streams their wanton course divide,\n    And gently forward in soft Murmurs glide;\n    Pensive and sad I_ Melib\u00e6us _meet,\n    And thus the melancholy Shepherd greet.\n      Kind Swain, what Cloud dares overcast your brow,\n    Bright as the Skies o're happy_ Nile _till now!\n    Does_ Chloe _prove unkind, or some new Fair?_\n    _No_ Damon, _mine's a publick, nobler, Care;\n    Such in which you and all the World must share.        10\n    One Friend may mollifie another's Grief,\n    But publick Loss admits of no relief._\n    _I guess your Cause: O you that use to sing\n    Of Beauty's Charms and the Delights of Spring;\n    Now change your Note, and let your Lute rehearse\n    The dismal Tale in melancholy Verse._\n    _Prepare then, lovely Swain; prepare to hear,\n    The worst Report that ever reach'd your Ear.\n      My_ Bower _you know, hard by yon shady Grove,\n    A fit Recess for_ Damon_'s pensive Love:               20\n    As there dissolv'd I in sweet Slumbers lay,\n    Tir'd with the Toils of the precedent Day,\n    The blust'ring Winds disturb my kind Repose,\n    Till frightned with the threatning Blasts, I rose.\n    But O, what havock did the Day disclose!\n    Those charming Willows which on_ Cherwel_'s banks\n    Flourish'd, and thriv'd, and grew in evener ranks\n    Than those which follow'd the Divine Command\n    Of_ Orpheus _Lyre, or sweet_ Amphion_'s Hand,\n    By hundreds fall, while hardly twenty stand.           30\n    The stately Oaks which reach'd the azure Sky,\n    And kiss'd the very Clouds, now prostrate lie.\n    Long a huge Pine did with the Winds contend;\n    This way, and that, his reeling Trunk they bend,\n    Till forc'd at last to yield, with hideous Sound\n    He falls, and all the Country feels the Wound.\n      Nor was the God of Winds content with these;\n    Such humble Victims can't his Wrath appease:\n    The Rivers swell, not like the happy_ Nile,\n    _To fatten, dew, and fructifie our_ Isle:              40\n    _But like the_ Deluge, _by great Jove design'd\n    To drown the Universe, and scourge Mankind.\n    In vain the frighted Cattel climb so high,\n    In vain for Refuge to the Hills they fly;\n    The Waters know no Limits but the Sky.\n    So now the bleating Flock exchange in vain,\n    For barren Clifts, their dewy fertil Plain:\n    In vain, their fatal Destiny to shun,\n    From_ Severn_'s Banks to higher Grounds they run.\n        Nor has the_ Navy _better Quarter found;           50\n    There we've receiv'd our worst, our deepest Wound.\n    The Billows swell, and haughty_ Neptune _raves,\n    The Winds insulting o're th' impetuous Waves._\n    Thetis _incens'd, rises with angry Frown,\n    And once more threatens all the World to drown,\n    And owns no Power, but_ England_'s and her own.\n    Yet the_ \u00c6olian _God dares vent his Rage;\n    And ev'n the Sovereign of the Seas engage.\n    What tho' the mighty_ Charles _of_ Spain_'s on board,\n    The Winds obey none but their blust'ring Lord.         60\n    Some Ships were stranded, some by Surges rent,\n    Down with their Cargo to the bottom went.\n    Th' absorbent Ocean could desire no more;\n    So well regal'd he never was before.\n    The hungry Fish could hardly wait the day,\n    When the Sun's beams should chase the Storm away,\n    But quickly seize with greedy Jaws their Prey._\n    _So the great_ Trojan_, by the Hand of Fate,\n    And haughty Power of angry_ Juno_'s Hate,\n    While with like aim he cross'd the Seas, was tost,     70\n    From Shore to Shore, from foreign Coast to Coast:\n    Yet safe at last his mighty Point he gain'd;\n    In charming promis'd Peace and Splendor reign'd._\n    _So may_ Great Charles, _whom equal Glories move,\n    Like the great_ Dardan Prince _successful prove:\n    Like him, with Honour may he mount the Throne,\n    And long enjoy a brighter destin'd Crown._\nCHAPTER IV\n_Of the Extent of this Storm, and from what Parts it was suppos'd to\ncome; with some Circumstances as to the Time of it_\nAs all our Histories are full of the Relations of Tempests and Storms\nwhich have happened in various Parts of the World, I hope it may not be\nimproper that some of them have been thus observ'd with their remarkable\nEffects.\nBut as I have all along insisted, that no Storm since the Universal\nDeluge was like this, either in its Violence or its Duration, so I must\nalso confirm it as to the particular of its prodigious Extent.\nAll the Storms and Tempests we have heard of in the World, have been\nGusts or Squauls of Wind that have been carried on in their proper\nChannels, and have spent their Force in a shorter space.\nWe feel nothing here of the Hurricanes of _Barbadoes_, the North-Wests\nof _New England_ and _Virginia_, the terrible Gusts of the _Levant_, or\nthe frequent Tempests of the _North Cape_. When Sir _Francis Wheeler_'s\nSquadron perish'd at _Gibralter_, when the City of _Straelsond_ was\nalmost ruin'd by a Storm, _England_ felt it not, nor was the Air here\ndisturb'd with the Motion. Even at home we have had Storms of violent\nWind in one part of _England_ which have not been felt in another. And\nif what I have been told has any truth in it, in St. _George_'s Channel\nthere has frequently blown a Storm at Sea right up and down the Channel,\nwhich has been felt on neither Coast, tho it is not above 20 Leagues\nfrom the _English_ to the _Irish_ Shore.\nSir _William Temple_ gives us the Particulars of two terrible Storms in\n_Holland_ while he was there; in one of which the great Cathedral Church\nat _Utrecht_ was utterly destroy'd: and after that there was a Storm so\nviolent in _Holland_, that 46 Vessels were cast away at the _Texel_, and\nalmost all the Men drowned: and yet we felt none of these Storms here.\nAnd for this very reason I have reserv'd an Abridgment of these former\nCases to this place; which as they are recited by Sir _William Temple_,\nI shall put them down in his own Words, being not capable to mend them,\nand not vain enough to pretend to it.\n'I stay'd only a Night at _Antwerp_, which pass'd with so great Thunders\nand Lightnings, that I promis'd my self a very fair Day after it, to go\nback to _Rotterdam_ in the _States_ Yacht, that still attended me. The\nMorning prov'd so; but towards Evening the Sky grew foul, and the Sea\nmen presag'd ill Weather, and so resolved to lie at Anchor before\n_Bergen ap Zoom_, the Wind being cross and little. When the Night was\nfallen as black as ever I saw, it soon began to clear up, with the most\nviolent Flashes of Lightning as well as Cracks of Thunder, that I\nbelieve have ever been heard in our Age and Climate. This continued all\nNight; and we felt such a fierce Heat from every great Flash of\nLightning, that the Captain apprehended it would fire his Ship. But\nabout 8 the next Morning the Wind changed, and came up with so strong a\nGale, that we came to _Rotterdam_ in about 4 Hours, and there found all\nMouths full of the Mischiefs and Accidents that the last Night's Tempest\nhad occasioned both among the Boats and the Houses, by the Thunder,\nLightning, Hail, or Whirlwinds. But the Day after came Stories to the\n_Hague_ from all Parts, of such violent Effects as were almost\nincredible: At _Amsterdam_ they were deplorable, many Trees torn up by\nthe Roots, Ships sunk in the Harbour, and Boats in the Channels; Houses\nbeaten down, and several People were snatch'd from the Ground as they\nwalk'd the Streets, and thrown into the Canals. But all was silenc'd by\nthe Relations from _Utrecht_, where the Great and Ancient Cathedral was\ntorn in pieces by the Violences of this Storm; and the vast Pillars of\nStone that supported it, were wreathed like a twisted Club, having been\nso strongly compos'd and cimented, as rather to suffer such a Change of\nFigure than break in pieces, as other Parts of the Fabrick did; hardly\nany Church in the Town escap'd the Violence of this Storm; and very few\nHouses without the Marks of it; Nor were the Effects of it less\nastonishing by the Relations from _France_ and _Brussels_, where the\nDamages were infinite, as well from Whirlwinds, Thunder, Lightning, as\nfrom Hail-stones of prodigious Bigness. This was in the Year 1674.\n'In _November_, 1675, happen'd a Storm at _North-West_, with a\nSpring-tide, so violent, as gave apprehensions of some loss\nirrecoverable to the Province of _Holland_, and by several breaches in\nthe great Diques near _Enchusen_, and others between _Amsterdam_ and\n_Harlem_, made way for such Inundations as had not been seen before by\nany man then alive, and fill'd the Country with many relations of most\ndeplorable Events. But the incredible Diligence and unanimous Endeavours\nof the People upon such occasions, gave a stop to the Fury of that\nElement, and made way for recovering next Year all the Lands, though not\nthe People, Cattel, and Houses that had been lost.'\n      _Thus far_ Sir William Temple.\nI am also credibly inform'd that the greatest Storm that ever we had in\n_England_ before, and which was as universal here as this, did no Damage\nin _Holland_ or _France_, comparable to this Tempest: I mean the great\nWind in 1661. An Abstract of which, as it was printed in _Mirabilis\nAnnis_, an unknown, but unquestion'd Author, take as follows, in his own\nWords.\n    _A dreadful Storm of Wind, accompanied with Thunder, Lightning, Hail\n    and Rain; together with the sad Effects of it in many Parts of the\n    Nation._\nUpon the 18_th_ of _February_, 1661, being _Tuesday_, very early in the\nMorning, there began a very great and dreadful Storm of Wind\n(accompanied with Thunder, Lightning, Hail, and Rain, which in many\nPlaces were as salt as Brine) which continued with a strange and unusual\nViolence till almost Night: the sad Effects whereof throughout the\nNation are so many, that a very great Volume is not sufficient to\ncontain the Narrative of them. And indeed some of them are so\nstupendious and amazing, that the Report of them, though from never so\nauthentick Hands, will scarce gain Credit among any but those that have\nan affectionate Sense of the unlimited Power of the Almighty, knowing\nand believing that there is nothing too hard for Him to do.\nSome few of which wonderful Effects we shall give a brief Account of,\nas we have received them from Persons of most unquestionable Credit in\nthe several Parts of the Nation.\nIn the City of _London_, and in _Covent Garden_ and other Parts about\n_London_ and _Westminster_, five or six Persons were killed outright by\nthe Fall of Houses and Chimneys; especially one Mr. _Luke Blith_ an\nAttorney, that lived at or near _Stamford_ in the County of _Lincoln_,\nwas killed that Day by the fall of a Riding-House not far from\n_Pickadilla_: and there are some very remarkable Circumstances in this\nMan's Case, which do make his Death to appear at least like a most\neminent Judgment and severe Stroak of the Lord's Hand upon him.\nFrom other Parts likewise we have received certain Information, that\ndivers Persons were killed by the Effects of this great Wind.\nAt _Chiltenham_ in _Gloucestershire_, a Maid was killed by the Fall of a\nTree, in or near the Church-Yard.\nAn honest Yeoman likewise of _Scaldwel_ in _Northamptonshire_, being\nupon a Ladder to save his Hovel, was blown off, and fell upon a Plough,\ndied outright, and never spoke Word more.\nAlso at _Tewksbury_ in _Gloucestershire_, a Man was blown from an House,\nand broken to Pieces.\nAt _Elsbury_ likewise in the same County, a Woman was killed by the Fall\nof Tiles or Bricks from an House.\nAnd not far from the same Place, a Girl was killed by the Fall of a\nTree.\nNear _Northampton_, a Man was killed by the Fall of a great Barn.\nNear _Colchester_, a Young-man was killed by the Fall of a Wind-mill.\nNot far from _Ipswich_ in _Suffolk_, a Man was killed by the Fall of a\nBarn.\nAnd about two Miles from the said Town of _Ipswich_, a Man was killed by\nthe Fall of a Tree.\nAt _Langton_, or near to it, in the County of _Leicester_, one Mr.\n_Roberts_ had a Wind-mill blown down, in which were three Men; and by\nthe Fall of it, one of them was killed outright, a second had his Back\nbroken, and the other had his Arm or Leg struck off; and both of them\n(according to our best Information) are since dead.\nSeveral other Instances there are of the like Nature; but it would be\ntoo tedious to mention them: Let these therefore suffice to stir us up\nto Repentance, _lest we likewise perish_.\nThere are also many Effects of this Storm which are of another Nature,\nwhereof we shall give this following brief Account.\nThe Wind hath very much prejudiced many Churches in several Parts of the\nNation.\nAt _Tewksbury_ in _Gloucestershire_, it blew down a very fair Window\nbelonging to the Church there, both the Glass, and the Stone-work also;\nthe Doors likewise of that Church were blown open, much of the Lead torn\nup, and some Part of a fair Pinnacle thrown down.\nAlso at _Red-Marly_ and _Newin_, not far from _Tewksbury_, their\nChurches are extreamly broken and shatter'd, if not a considerable part\nof them blown down. The like was done to most, if not all the Publick\nMeeting-places at _Gloucester_ City. And it is reported, that some\nHundreds of Pounds will not suffice to repair the Damage done to the\nCathedral at _Worcester_, especially in that Part that is over the\nQuire.\nThe like Fate happen'd to many more of them, as _Hereford_, and\n_Leighton Beau-desart_ in _Bedfordshire_, and _Eaton-Soken_ in the same\nCounty; where they had newly erected a very fair Cross of Stone, which\nthe Wind blew down: and, as some of the Inhabitants did observe, that\nwas the first Damage which that Town sustained by the Storm, though\nafterwards in other respects also they were in the same Condition with\ntheir Neighbours. The Steeples also, and other Parts of the Churches of\n_Shenley_, _Waddon_, and _Woolston_ in the County of _Bucks_, have been\nvery much rent and torn by the Wind. The Spire of _Finchinfield_ Steeple\nin the County of _Essex_, was blown down, and it brake through the Body\nof the Church, and spoil'd many of the Pews; some Hundreds of Pounds\nwill not repair that Loss. But that which is most remarkable of this\nkind, is, the Fall of that most famous Spire, or Pinnacle of the\nTower-Church in _Ipswich_: it was blown down upon the Body of the\nChurch, and fell reversed, the sharp End of the Shaft striking through\nthe Leads on the South-side of the Church, carried much of the\nTimber-work down before it into the Alley just behind the Pulpit, and\ntook off one Side of the Sounding-board over the Pulpit: it shattered\nmany Pews: The Weather-Cock, and the Iron upon which it stood, broke off\nas it fell; but the narrowest Part of the Wood-work, upon which the Fane\nstood, fell into the Alley, broke quite through a Grave-stone, and ran\nshoring under two Coffins that had been placed there one on another;\nthat Part of the Spire which was pluck'd up was about three Yards deep\nin the Earth, and it is believed some Part of it is yet behind in the\nGround: some Hundreds of Pounds will not make good the Detriment done to\nthe Church by the Fall of this Pinnacle.\nVery great Prejudice has been done to private Houses; many of them blown\ndown, and others extreamly shattered and torn. It is thought that five\nthousand Pounds will not make good the Repairs at _Audley-End House_,\nwhich belongs to the Earl of _Suffolk_. A good Part also of the\nCrown-Office in the _Temple_ is blown down. The Instances of this kind\nare so many and so obvious, that it would needlesly take up too much\ntime to give the Reader an Account of the Collection of them; only there\nhas been such a wonderful Destruction of Barns, that (looking so much\nlike a Judgment from the Lord, who the last Year took away our Corn, and\nthis our Barns) we cannot but give a short Account of some Part of that\nIntelligence which hath come to our Hands of that Nature.\nA Gentleman, of good Account, in _Ipswich_, affirms, that in a few Miles\nriding that Day, there was eleven Barns and Out-houses blown down in the\nRoad within his View; and within a very few Miles of _Ipswich_ round\nabout, above thirty Barns, and many of them with Corn in them, were\nblown down. At _Southold_ not far from the Place before mentioned, many\nnew Houses and Barns (built since a late Fire that happened there) are\nblown down; as also a Salt-house is destroyed there: and a thousand\nPounds, as it is believed, will not make up that particular Loss.\nFrom _Tewksbury_ it is certified, that an incredible Number of Barns\nhave been blown down in the small Towns and Villages thereabouts. At\n_Twyning_, at least eleven Barns are blown down. In _Ashchurch_ Parish\nseven or eight. At _Lee_, five. At _Norton_, a very great Number, three\nwhereof belonging to one Man. The great Abby-Barn also at _Tewksbury_ is\nblown down.\nIt is credibly reported, that within a very few Miles Circumference in\n_Worcestershire_, about an hundred and forty Barns are blown down. At\n_Finchinfield_ in _Essex_, which is but an ordinary Village, about\nsixteen Barns were blown down. Also at a Town called _Wilchamsted_ in\nthe County of _Bedford_ (a very small Village) fifteen Barns at least\nare blown down. But especially the Parsonage Barns went to wrack in many\nPlaces throughout the Land: In a few Miles Compass in _Bedfordshire_,\nand so in _Northamptonshire_, and other Places, eight, ten, and twelve\nare blown down; and at _Yielding Parsonage_ in the County of _Bedford_\n(out of which was thrust by Oppression and Violence the late Incumbent)\nall the Barns belonging to it are down. The Instances also of this kind\nare innumerable, which we shall therefore forbear to make further\nmention of.\nWe have also a large Account of the blowing down of a very great and\nconsiderable Number of Fruit-Trees, and other Trees in several Parts; we\nshall only pick out two or three Passages which are the most remarkable.\nIn the Counties of _Gloucester_, _Hereford_, and _Worcester_, several\nPersons have lost whole Orchards of Fruit-Trees; and many particular\nMens Loss hath amounted to the Value of forty or fifty Pounds at the\nleast, meerly by Destruction of their Fruit-Trees: and so in other Parts\nof _England_ proportionably the like Damage hath been sustained in this\nRespect. And as for other Trees, there has been a great Destruction made\nof them in many Places, by this Storm. Several were blown down at\n_Hampton-Court_. And three thousand brave Oaks at least, but in one\nprincipal Part of the Forest of _Dean_, belonging to his Majesty. In a\nlittle Grove at _Ipswich_, belonging to the Lord of _Hereford_ (which\ntogether with the Spire of the Steeple before-mentioned, were the most\nconsiderable Ornaments of that Town) are blown down at least two hundred\ngoodly Trees, one of which was an Ash, which had ten Load of Wood upon\nit: there are now few Trees left there.\nIn _Bramton Bryan Park_ in the County of _Hereford_, belonging to Sir\n_Edward Harly_, one of the late Knights of the _Bath_, above thirteen\nhundred Trees are blown down; and above six hundred in _Hopton Park_ not\nfar from it: and thus it is proportionably in most Places where this\nStorm was felt. And the Truth is, the Damage which the People of this\nNation have sustained upon all Accounts by this Storm, is not easily to\nbe valued: some sober and discreet People, who have endeavoured to\ncompute the Loss of the several Counties one with another, by the\nDestruction of Houses and Barns, the blowing away of Hovels and Ricks of\nCorn, the falling of Trees, _&c._ do believe it can come to little less\nthan two Millions of Money.\nThere are yet behind many Particulars of a distinct Nature from those\nthat have been spoken of; some whereof are very wonderful, and call for\na very serious Observation of them.\nIn the Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_, especially on the Bridge\nand near _Wallingford-house_, several Persons were blown down one on the\nTop of another.\nIn _Hertfordshire_, a Man was taken up, carried a Pole in Length, and\nblown over a very high Hedge; and the like in other Places.\nThe Water in the River of _Thames_, and other Places, was in a very\nstrange manner blown up into the Air: Yea, in the new Pond in _James's\nPark_, the Fish, to the Number of at least two Hundred, where blown out\nand lay by the Bank-side, whereof many were Eye-witnesses.\nAt _Moreclack_ in _Surry_, the _Birds_, as they attempted to fly, were\nbeaten down to the Ground by the Violence of the Wind.\nAt _Epping_ in the County of _Essex_, a very great Oak was blown down,\nwhich of it self was raised again, and doth grow firmly at this Day.\nAt _Taunton_, a great Tree was blown down, the upper Part whereof rested\nupon a Brick or Stone-wall, and after a little time, by the force of the\nWind, the lower part of the Tree was blown quite over the Wall.\nIn the City of _Hereford_, several persons were, by the Violence of the\nWind, borne up from the Ground; one Man (as it is credibly reported) at\nleast six Yards.\nThe great Fane at _Whitehall_ was blown down; and one of the four which\nwere upon the _white Tower_, and two more of them strangely bent; which\nare to be seen at this Day, to the Admiration of all that behold them.\nThe several _Triumphant Arches_ in the City of _London_ were much\nshattered and torn; That in _Leaden-hall-Street_ lost the King's Arms,\nand many other rare Pieces that were affixed to it; That in _Cheapside_,\nwhich represented the Church, suffered very much by the Fury of the\nStorm; and a great Part of that in _Fleet Street_ (which represented\nPlenty) was blown down: but, blessed be God, none as we hear of were\neither killed or hurt by the Fall of it.\nThe Wind was so strong, that it blew down several Carts loaded with Hay\nin the Road between _Barnet_ and _London_; and in other Roads leading to\nthe City of _London_.\n_Norwich_ Coach, with four or six Horses, was not able to come towards\n_London_, but stayed by the way till the Storm was somewhat abated.\nIt is also credibly reported, That all, or some of the Heads which were\nset up upon _Westminster-Hall_, were that Day blown down.\nThere was a very dreadful Lightning which did at first accompany the\nStorm, and by it some of his Majesty's Houshold conceive that the Fire\nwhich happened at _Whitehall_ that Morning, was kindled; as also that at\n_Greenwich_, by which (as we are informed) seven or eight Houses were\nburnt down.\n      _Thus far the Author of_ Mirabilis Annis.\n'Tis very observable, that this Storm blew from the same Quarter as the\nlast, and that they had less of it Northward than here; in which they\nwere much alike.\nNow as these Storms were perhaps very furious in some Places, yet they\nneither came up to the Violence of this, nor any way to be compar'd for\nthe Extent, and when ruinous in one County, were hardly heard of in the\nnext.\nBut this terrible Night shook all _Europe_; and how much farther it\nextended, he only knows who _has his way in the Whirlwind, and in the\nStorm, and the Clouds are the Dust of his Feet_.\nAs this Storm was first felt from the West, some have conjectur'd that\nthe first Generation or rather Collection of Materials, was from the\nContinent of _America_, possibly from that part of _Florida_ and\n_Virginia_ where, if we respect natural Causes, the Confluence of\nVapours rais'd by the Sun from the vast and unknown Lakes and Inland\nSeas of Water, which as some relate are incredibly large as well as\nnumerous, might afford sufficient Matter for the Exhalation; and where\ntime adding to the Preparation, God, who has generally confin'd his\nProvidence to the Chain of natural Causes, might muster together those\nTroops of Combustion till they made a sufficient Army duly proportion'd\nto the Expedition design'd.\nI am the rather inclin'd to this Opinion, because we are told, they felt\nupon that Coast an unusual Tempest a few Days before the fatal 27th of\n_November_.\nI confess, I have never studied the Motion of the Clouds so nicely, as\nto calculate how long time this Army of Terror might take up in its\nfurious March; possibly the Velocity of its Motion might not be so great\nat its first setting out as it was afterward, as a Horse that is to run\na Race does not immediately put himself into the height of his Speed:\nand tho' it may be true, that by the length of the way the force of the\nWind spends it self, and so by degrees ceases as the Vapour finds more\nroom for Dilation; besides, yet we may suppose a Conjunction of some\nconfederate Matter which might fall in with it by the way, or which\nmeeting it at its Arrival here, might join Forces in executing the\nCommission receiv'd from above, all natural Causes being allow'd a\nSubserviency to the Direction of the great supream Cause; yet where the\nvast Collection of Matter had its first Motion, as it did not all take\nMotion in one and the same moment, so when all the Parts had felt the\nInfluence, as they advanc'd and press'd those before them, the Violence\nmust increase in proportion: and thus we may conceive that the Motion\nmight not have arriv'd at its Meridian Violence till it reach'd our\nIsland; and even then it blew some Days with more than common fury, yet\nmuch less than that last Night of its force; and even that Night the\nViolence was not at its extremity till about an hour before Sun-rise,\nand then it continued declining, tho' it blew a full Storm for four Days\nafter it.\nThus Providence, by whose special Direction the Quantity and Conduct of\nthis Judgment was manag'd, seem'd to proportion things so, as that by\nthe course of things the proportion of Matter being suited to Distance\nof Place, the Motion shou'd arrive at its full Force just at the Place\nwhere its Execution was to begin.\nAs then our Island was the first, this way, to receive the Impressions\nof the violent Motion, it had the terriblest Effects here; and\ncontinuing its steady Course, we find it carried a true Line clear over\nthe Continent of _Europe_, travers'd _England_, _France_, _Germany_, the\n_Baltick_ Sea, and passing the Northern Continent of _Sweedland_,\n_Finland_, _Muscovy_, and part of _Tartary_, must at last lose it self\nin the vast Northern Ocean, where Man never came, and Ship never sail'd;\nand its Violence cou'd have no effect, but upon the vast Mountains of\nIce and the huge Drifts of Snow, in which Abyss of Moisture and Cold it\nis very probable the Force of it was check'd, and the World restor'd to\nCalmness and Quiet: and in this Circle of Fury it might find its End not\nfar off from where it had its Beginning, the Fierceness of the Motion\nperhaps not arriving to a Period, till having pass'd the Pole, it\nreached again the Northern Parts of _America_.\nThe Effects of this impetuous Course, are the proper Subjects of this\nBook; and what they might be before our Island felt its Fury, who can\ntell? Those unhappy Wretches who had the misfortune to meet it in its\nfirst Approach, can tell us little, having been hurried by its\nirresistible Force directly into Eternity: how many they are, we cannot\npretend to give an Account; we are told of about seventeen Ships, which\nhaving been out at Sea are never heard of: which is the common way of\nDiscourse of Ships founder'd in the Ocean: and indeed all we can say of\nthem is, the fearful _Exit_ they have made among the Mountains of\nWaters, can only be duly reflected on by those who have seen those\nWonders of God in the Deep.\nYet I cannot omit here to observe, That this Loss was in all probability\nmuch less than it would otherwise have been; because the Winds having\nblown with very great Fury, at the same Point, for near fourteen Days\nbefore the Violence grew to its more uncommon height, all those Ships\nwhich were newly gone to Sea were forc'd back, of which some were\ndriven into _Plymouth_ and _Falmouth_ who had been above a hundred and\nfifty Leagues at Sea; others, which had been farther, took Sanctuary in\n_Ireland_.\nOn the other hand, All those Ships which were homeward bound, and were\nwithin 500 Leagues of the _English_ Shore, had been hurried so furiously\non _afore it_ (_as the Seamen say_) that they had reach'd their Port\nbefore the Extremity of the Storm came on; so that the Sea was as it\nwere swept clean of all Shipping, those which were coming home were\nblown home before their time; those that had attempted to put to Sea,\nwere driven back again in spight of all their Skill and Courage: for the\nWind had blown so very hard, directly into the Channel, that there was\nno possibility of their keeping the Sea whose Course was not right afore\nthe Wind.\nOn the other hand, these two Circumstances had fill'd all our Ports with\nunusual Fleets of Ships, either just come home or outward-bound, and\nconsequently the Loss among them was very terrible; and the Havock it\nmade among them, tho' it was not so much as every body expected, was\nsuch as no Age or Circumstance can ever parallel, and we hope will never\nfeel again.\nNay, so high the Winds blew even before _that we call the Storm_, that\nhad not that intolerable Tempest follow'd so soon after, we should have\ncounted those Winds extraordinary high: and any one may judge of the\nTruth of this from these few Particulars; That the _Russia_ Fleet,\ncompos'd of near a hundred Sail, which happen'd to be then upon the\nCoast, was absolutely dispers'd and scatter'd, some got into\n_Newcastle_, some into _Hull_, and some into _Yarmouth_ Roads; two\nfounder'd in the Sea; one or two more run a-shore, and were lost; and\nthe _Reserve_ Frigat, their Convoy, founder'd in _Yarmouth_ Roads, all\nher Men being lost, and no Boat from the Shore durst go off to relieve\nher, tho' it was in the Day-time, but all her Men perished.\nIn the same previous Storms the--Man of War was lost off of _Harwich_;\nbut by the help of smaller Vessels most of her Men were sav'd.\nAnd so high the Winds blew for near a Fortnight, that no Ship stirr'd\nout of Harbour; and all the Vessels, great or small, that were out at\nSea, made for some Port or other for shelter.\nIn this juncture of time it happen'd, that together with the _Russia_\nFleet, a great Fleet of Laden Colliers, near 400 Sail, were just put out\nof the River _Tine_: and these being generally deep and unweildy Ships,\nmet with hard measure, tho' not so fatal to them as was expected: such\nof them as could run in for _Humber_, where a great many were lost\nafterwards, as I shall relate in its course; some got shelter under the\nhigh Lands of _Cromer_ and the Northern Shores of the County of\n_Norfolk_, and the greater number reach'd into _Yarmouth_ Roads.\nSo that when the Great Storm came, our Ports round the Sea-Coast of\n_England_ were exceeding full of Ships of all sorts: a brief account\nwhereof take as follows.\nAt _Grimsby_, _Hull_, and the other Roads of the _Humber_, lay about 80\nSail, great and small, of which about 50 were Colliers, and part of the\n_Russia_ Fleet as aforesaid.\nIn _Yarmouth_ Roads there rode at least 400 Sail, being most of them\nLaden Colliers, _Russia_ Men, and Coasters from _Lynn_ and _Hull_.\nIn the River of _Thames_, at the _Nore_, lay about 12 Sail of the\nQueen's hir'd Ships and Store-ships, and only two Men of War.\nSir _Cloudsly Shovel_ was just arriv'd from the _Mediterranean_ with the\nRoyal Navy: Part of them lay at _St. Hellens_, part in the _Downs_, and\nwith 12 of the biggest Ships he was coming round the _Foreland_ to bring\nthem into _Chatham_; and when the Great Storm began was at an Anchor at\nthe _Gunfleet_, from whence the _Association_ was driven off from Sea as\nfar as the Coast of _Norway_: What became of the rest, I refer to a\nChapter by it self.\nAt _Gravesend_ there rode five _East India_ Men, and about 30 Sail of\nother Merchant-men, all outward bound.\nIn the _Downs_ 160 Sail of Merchant Ships outward bound, besides that\npart of the Fleet which came in with Sir _Cloudsly Shovel_, which\nconsisted of about 18 Men of War, with Tenders and Victuallers.\nAt _Portsmouth_ and _Cowes_ there lay three Fleets; first, a Fleet of\nTransports and Tenders, who with Admiral _Dilks_ brought the Forces from\n_Ireland_ that were to accompany the King of _Spain_ to _Lisbon_;\nsecondly, a great Fleet of Victuallers, Tenders, Store-ships, and\nTransports, which lay ready for the same Voyage, together with about 40\nMerchant-ships, who lay for the benefit of their Convoy; and the third\nArticle was, the Remainder of the Grand Fleet which came in with Sir\n_Cloudsly Shovel_; in all almost 300 Sail, great and small.\nIn _Plymouth_ Sound, _Falmouth_ and _Milford_ Havens, were particularly\nseveral small Fleets of Merchant-ships, driven in for Shelter and\nHarbour from the Storm, most homeward bound from the Islands and\nColonies of _America_.\nThe _Virginia_ Fleet, _Barbadoes_ Fleet, and some _East India_ Men, lay\nscatter'd in all our Ports, and in _Kinsale_ in _Ireland_ there lay near\n80 Sail, homeward bound and richly laden.\nAt _Bristol_ about 20 Sail of home-bound _West India_ Men, not yet\nunladen.\nIn _Holland_, the Fleet of Transports for _Lisbon_ waited for the King\nof _Spain_, and several _English_ Men of War lay at _Helvoet Sluice_;\nthe _Dutch_ Fleet from the _Texel_ lay off of _Cadsandt_, with their\nForces on Board, under the Admiral _Callenberge_. Both these Fleets made\n180 Sail.\nI think I may very safely affirm, That hardly in the Memory of the\noldest Man living, was a juncture of Time when an Accident of this\nnature could have happen'd, that so much Shipping, laden out and home,\never was in Port at one time.\nNo Man will wonder that the Damages to this Nation were so great, if\nthey consider these unhappy Circumstances: it shou'd rather be wonder'd\nat, that we have no more Disasters to account to Posterity, but that the\nNavigation of this Country came off so well.\nAnd therefore some People have excus'd the Extravagancies of the _Paris\nGazetteer_, who affirm'd in Print, that there was 30000 Sea-men lost in\nthe several Ports of _England_, and 300 Sail of Ships; which they say\nwas a probable Conjecture; and that considering the multitude of\nShipping, the Openness of the Roads in the _Downs_, _Yarmouth_, and the\n_Nore_, and the prodigious Fury of the Wind, any Man would have guess'd\nthe same as he.\n'Tis certain, It is a thing wonderful to consider, that especially in\nthe _Downs_ and _Yarmouth_ Roads any thing shou'd be safe: all Men that\nknow how wild a Road the first is, and what Crowds of Ships there lay in\nthe last; how almost every thing quitted the Road, and neither Anchor\nnor Cable would hold; must wonder what Shift or what Course the Mariners\ncould direct themselves to for Safety.\nSome which had not a Mast standing, nor an Anchor or Cable left them,\nwent out to Sea wherever the Winds drove them; and lying like a Trough\nin the Water, wallow'd about till the Winds abated; and after were\ndriven, some into one Port, some into another, as Providence guided\nthem.\nIn short, Horror and Confusion seiz'd upon all, whether on Shore or at\nSea: No Pen can describe it, no Tongue can express it, no Thought\nconceive it, unless some of those who were in the Extremity of it; and\nwho, being touch'd with a due sense of the sparing Mercy of their Maker,\nretain the deep Impressions of his Goodness upon their Minds, tho' the\nDanger be past: and of those I doubt the Number is but few.\nOF THE EFFECTS OF THE STORM\nThe particular dreadful Effects of this Tempest, are the Subject of the\nensuing Part of this History: And tho' the Reader is not to expect that\nall the Particulars can be put into this Account, and perhaps many very\nremarkable Passages may never come to our Knowledge; yet as we have\nendeavour'd to furnish our selves with the most authentick Accounts we\ncould from all Parts of the Nation, and a great many worthy Gentlemen\nhave contributed their Assistance in various, and some very exact\nRelations and curious Remarks; so we pretend, not to be meanly furnish'd\nfor this Work.\nSome Gentlemen, whose Accounts are but of common and trivial Damages, we\nhope will not take it ill from the Author, if they are not inserted at\nlarge; for that we are willing to put in nothing here common with other\nAccidents of like nature; or which may not be worthy of a History and a\nHistorian to record them; nothing but, what may serve to assist in\nconvincing Posterity that this was the most violent Tempest the World\never saw.\nFrom hence 'twill follow, that those Towns who only had their Houses\nuntil'd, their Barns and Hovels levell'd with the Ground, and the like,\nwill find very little notice taken of them in this Account; because if\nthese were to be the Subject of a History, I presume it must be equally\nvoluminous with _Fox_, _Grimston_, _Holinshead_ or _Stow_.\nNor shall I often trouble the Reader with the Multitude or Magnitude of\nTrees blown down, whole Parks ruin'd, fine Walks defac'd, and Orchards\nlaid flat, and the like: and tho' I had, my self, the Curiosity to count\nthe Number of Trees, in a Circuit I rode, over most part of _Kent_, in\nwhich being tired with the Number, I left off reckoning after I had gone\non to 17000; and tho' I have great reason to believe I did not observe\none half of the Quantity; yet in some Parts of _England_, as in\n_Devonshire_ especially, and the Counties of _Worcester_, _Gloucester_,\nand _Hereford_, which are full of very large Orchards of Fruit-Trees,\nthey had much more mischief.\nIn the Pursuit of this Work, I shall divide it into the following\nChapters or Sections, that I may put it into as good Order as possible.\n    1. Of the Damage in the City of _London_, &c.\n      } _On the Water_ {\n    4.}                {to Shipping in general.\n    7. Remarkable Providences and Deliverances.\n    8. Hardned and blasphemous Contemners both of the Storm and its\n    Effects.\n    9. Some Calculations of Damage sustain'd.\n    10. The Conclusion.\nWe had design'd a Chapter for the Damages abroad, and have been at no\nsmall Charge to procure the Particulars from foreign Parts; which are\nnow doing in a very authentick manner: but as the World has been long\nexpecting this Work, and several Gentlemen who were not a little\ncontributing to the Information of the Author, being unwilling to stay\nany longer for the Account, it was resolved to put it into the Press\nwithout any farther Delay: and if the foreign Accounts can be obtain'd\nin time, they shall be a Supplement to the Work; if not, some other\nMethod shall be found out to make them publick.\n_I. Of the Damages in the City of London, and Parts adjacent_\nIndeed the City was a strange Spectacle, the Morning after the Storm, as\nsoon as the People could put their Heads out of Doors: though I believe,\nevery Body expected the Destruction was bad enough; yet I question very\nmuch, if any Body believed the Hundredth Part of what they saw.\nThe Streets lay so covered with Tiles and Slates, from the Tops of the\nHouses, especially in the Out-parts, that the Quantity is incredible:\nand the Houses were so universally stript, that all the Tiles in Fifty\nMiles round would be able to repair but a small Part of it.\nSomething may be guest at on this Head, from the sudden Rise of the\nPrice of Tiles; which rise from 21 _s. per_ Thousand to 6 _l._ for plain\nTiles; and from 50 _s. per_ Thousand for Pantiles, to 10 _l._ and\nBricklayers Labour to 5 _s. per_ Day: And tho' after the first Hurry the\nPrices fell again, it was not that the Quantity was supply'd; but\nbecause,\n1_st_, The Charge was so extravagant, that an universal Neglect of\nthemselves, appear'd both in Landlord and Tenant; an incredible Number\nof Houses remain'd all the Winter uncovered, and expos'd to all the\nInconveniences of Wet and Cold; and are so even at the Writing of this\nChapter.\n2. Those People who found it absolutely necessary to cover their Houses,\nbut were unwilling to go to the extravagant Price of Tiles; chang'd\ntheir Covering to that of Wood, as a present Expedient, till the Season\nfor making of Tiles should come on; and the first Hurry being over, the\nPrices abate: and 'tis on this Score, that we see, to this Day, whole\nRanks of Buildings, as in _Christ Church Hospital_, the _Temple_,\n_Asks-Hospital_, _Old-street_, _Hogsden-Squares_, and infinite other\nPlaces, covered entirely with Deal Boards; and are like to continue so,\nperhaps a Year or two longer, for Want of Tiles.\nThese two Reasons reduc'd the Tile-Merchants to sell at a more moderate\nPrice: But 'tis not an irrational Suggestion, that all the Tiles which\nshall be made this whole Summer, will not repair the Damage in the\ncovering of Houses within the Circumference of the City, and Ten Miles\nround.\nThe next Article in our Street Damage was, the Fall of Chimneys; and as\nthe Chimneys in the City Buildings are built in large Stacks, the Houses\nbeing so high, the Fall of them had the more Power, by their own Weight,\nto demolish the Houses they fell upon.\n'Tis not possible to give a distinct Account of the Number, or\nparticular Stacks of Chimneys, which fell in this fatal Night; but the\nReader may guess by this Particular, that in _Cambray-House_, commonly\nso called, a great House near _Islington_, belonging to the Family of\nthe _Comptons_, Earls of _Northampton_, but now let out into Tenements;\nthe Collector of these Remarks counted Eleven or Thirteen Stacks of\nChimneys, either wholly thrown in, or the greatest Parts of them at\nleast, what was expos'd to the Wind, blown off. I have heard Persons,\nwho pretended to observe the Desolation of that terrible Night very\nnicely; and who, by what they had seen and enquired into, thought\nthemselves capable of making some Calculations, affirm, They could give\nan Account of above Two Thousand Stacks of Chimneys blown down in and\nabout _London_; besides Gable Ends of Houses, some whole Roofs, and\nSixteen or Twenty whole Houses in the Out-Parts.\nUnder the Disaster of this Article, it seems most proper to place the\nLoss of the Peoples Lives, who fell in this Calamity; since most of\nthose, who had the Misfortune to be killed, were buried, or beaten to\nPieces with the Rubbish of the several Stacks of Chimneys that fell.\nOf these, our Weekly Bills of Mortality gave us an Account of Twenty\nOne; besides such as were drown'd in the River, and never found: and\nbesides above Two Hundred People very much wounded and maim'd.\nOne Woman was kill'd by the Fall of a Chimney in or near the Palace of\nSt. _James_'s, and a Stack of Chimneys falling in the new unfinish'd\nBuilding there, and carried away a Piece of the Coin of the House.\nNine Souldiers were hurt, with the Fall of the Roof of the Guard-house\nat _Whitehall_, but none of them died.\nA Distiller in _Duke-Street_, with his Wife, and Maid-servant, were all\nburied in the Rubbish of a Stack of Chimneys, which forced all the\nFloors, and broke down to the Bottom of the House; the Wife was taken\nout alive, though very much bruised, but her Husband and the Maid lost\ntheir Lives.\nOne Mr. _Dyer_, a Plaisterer in _Fetter-Lane_, finding the Danger he was\nin by the shaking of the House, jumpt out of Bed to save himself; and\nhad, in all Probability, Time enough to have got out of the House, but\nstaying to strike a Light, a Stack of Chimneys fell in upon him, kill'd\nhim, and wounded his Wife.\nTwo Boys at one Mr. _Purefoy's_, in _Cross-Street Hatton-Garden_, were\nboth kill'd, and buried in the Rubbish of a Stack of Chimneys; and a\nthird very much wounded.\nA Woman in _Jewin-Street_, and Two Persons more near _Aldersgate-Street_,\nwere kill'd; the first, as it is reported, by venturing to run out of\nthe House into the Street; and the other Two by the Fall of a House.\nIn _Threadneedle-Street_, one Mr. _Simpson_, a Scrivener being in Bed\nand fast a-sleep, heard nothing of the Storm; but the rest of the Family\nbeing more sensible of Danger, some of them went up, and wak'd him; and\ntelling him their own Apprehensions, press'd him to rise; but he too\nfatally sleepy, and consequently unconcern'd at the Danger, told them,\nhe did not apprehend any Thing; and so, notwithstanding all their\nPersuasions, could not be prevailed with to rise: they had not been gone\nmany Minutes out of his Chamber, before the Chimneys fell in, broke\nthrough the Roof over him, and kill'd him in his Bed.\nA Carpenter in _White-Cross-Street_ was kill'd almost in the same\nManner, by a Stack of Chimneys of the _Swan_ Tavern, which fell into his\nHouse; it was reported, That his Wife earnestly desir'd him not to go to\nBed; and had prevail'd upon him to sit up till near two a Clock, but\nthen finding himself very heavy, he would go to Bed against all his\nWife's Intreaties; after which she wak'd him, and desir'd him to rise,\nwhich he refus'd, being something angry for being disturb'd; and going\nto sleep again, was kill'd in his Bed: and his Wife, who would not go to\nBed, escap'd.\nIn this Manner, our Weekly Bills gave us an Account of Twenty One\nPersons kill'd in the City of _London_, and Parts adjacent.\nSome of our printed Accounts give us larger and plainer Accounts of the\nLoss of Lives, than I will venture to affirm for Truth; as of several\nHouses near _Moor-Fields_ levell'd with the Ground: Fourteen People\ndrowned in a Wherry going to _Gravesend_, and Five in a Wherry from\n_Chelsey_. Not that it is not very probable to be true; but as I resolve\nnot to hand any thing to Posterity, but what comes very well attested, I\nomit such Relations as I have not extraordinary Assurance as to the\nFact.\nThe Fall of Brick-Walls, by the Fury of this Tempest, in and about\n_London_, would make a little Book of it self; and as this affects the\nOut-Parts chiefly, where the Gardens and Yards are wall'd in, so few\nsuch have escap'd; at St. _James_'s a considerable part of the Garden\nWall; at _Greenwich Park_ there are several pieces of the Wall down for\nan Hundred Rods in a Place; and some much more, at _Battersey_,\n_Chelsey_, _Putney_, at _Clapham_, at _Deptford_, at _Hackney_,\n_Islington_, _Hogsden_, _Wood's Close_ by St. _John's Street_, and on\nevery side the City, the Walls of the Gardens have generally felt the\nShock, and lie flat on the Ground twenty, thirty Rod of walling in a\nPlace.\nThe publick Edifices of the City come next under our Consideration; and\nthese have had their Share in the Fury of this terrible Night.\nA part of her Majesty's Palace, as is before observ'd, with a Stack of\nChimneys in the Centre of the new Buildings, then not quite finished,\nfell with such a terrible Noise as very much alarm'd the whole Houshold.\nThe Roof of the Guard-house at _Whitehall_, as is also observ'd before,\nwas quite blown off; and the great Vane, or Weather-Cock at _Whitehall_\nblown down.\nThe Lead, on the Tops of the Churches and other Buildings, was in many\nPlaces roll'd up like a Roll of Parchment, and blown in some Places\nclear off from the Buildings; as at _Westminster Abby_, St. _Andrews\nHolbourn_, _Christ-Church Hospital_, and abundance of other Places.\nTwo of the new built Turrets, on the Top of St. _Mary Aldermary\nChurch_, were blown off, whereof One fell upon the Roof of the Church;\nof Eight Pinnacles on the Top of St. _Albans Woodstreet_, Five of them\nwere blown down; Part of One of the Spires of St. _Mary Overies_ blown\noff; Four Pinnacles on the Steeple of St. _Michael Crooked Lane_ blown\nquite off: The Vanes and Spindles of the Weather-Cocks, in many places,\nbent quite down; as on St. _Michael Cornhil_, St. _Sepulchres_, the\n_Tower_, and divers other Places.\nIt was very remarkable, that the Bridge over the _Thames_ received but\nlittle Damage, and not in Proportion to what in common Reason might be\nexpected; since the Buildings there stand high, and are not sheltered,\nas they are in the Streets, one by another.\nIf I may be allow'd to give this Philosophical Account of it, I hope it\nmay not be absurd; that the Indraft of the Arches underneath the Houses\ngiving Vent to the Air, it past there with a more than common Current;\nand consequently relieved the Buildings, by diverting the Force of the\nStorm: I ask Pardon of the ingenious Reader for this Opinion, if it be\nnot regular, and only present it to the World for Want of a better; if\nthose better furnished _that Way_ will supply us with a truer Account, I\nshall withdraw mine, and submit to theirs. The Fact however is certain,\nthat the Houses on the _Bridge_ did not suffer in Proportion to the\nother Places; though all must allow, they do not seem to be stronger\nbuilt, than other Streets of the same sort.\nAnother Observation I cannot but make; to which, as I have Hundreds of\nInstances, so I have many more Witnesses to the Truth of Fact, and the\nuncommon Experiment has made it the more observ'd.\nThe Wind blew, during the whole Storm, between the Points of S.W. and\nN.W., not that I mean it blew at all these Points, but I take a\nLatitude of Eight Points to avoid Exceptions, and to confirm my\nArgument; since what I am insisting upon, could not be a natural Cause\nfrom the Winds blowing in any of those particular Points.\nIf a Building stood North and South, it must be a Consequence that the\nEast-side Slope of the Roof must be the Lee-side, lie out of the Wind,\nbe weather'd by the Ridge, and consequently receive no Damage in a\ndirect Line.\nBut against this rational way of arguing, we are convinced by\nDemonstration and Experiment, after which Argument must be silent. It\nwas not in one Place or Two, but in many Places; that where a Building\nstood ranging North and South, the Sides or Slopes of the Roof to the\nEast and the West, the East-side of the Roof would be stript and untiled\nby the Violence of the Wind; and the West Side, which lay open to the\nWind, be sound and untouch'd.\nThis, I conceive, must happen either where the Building had some open\nPart, as Windows or Doors to receive the Wind in the Inside, which being\npusht forward by the succeeding Particles of the Air, must force its Way\nforward, and so lift off the Tiling on the Leeward side of the Building;\nor it must happen from the Position of such Building near some other\nhigher Place or Building, where the Wind being repuls'd, must be forc'd\nback again in Eddies; and consequently taking the Tiles from the lower\nSide of the Roof, rip them up with the more Ease.\nHowever it was, it appear'd in many Places, the Windward Side of the\nRoof would be whole, and the Leeward Side, or the Side from the Wind, be\nuntiled; in other Places, a high Building next the Wind has been not\nmuch hurt, and a lower Building on the Leeward Side of the high One\nclean ript, and hardly a Tile left upon it: this is plain in the\nBuilding of _Christ Church Hospital_ in _London_, where the Building on\nthe West and South Side of the Cloyster was at least Twenty Five Foot\nhigher than the East Side, and yet the Roof of the lower Side on the\nEast was quite untiled by the Storm; and remains at the Writing of This\ncovered with Deal Boards above an Hundred Foot in Length.\nThe blowing down of Trees may come in for another Article in this Part;\nof which, in Proportion to the Quantity, here was as much as in any Part\nof _England_: Some printed Accounts tell us of Seventy Trees in\n_Moorfields_ blown down, which may be true; but that some of them were\nThree Yards about, as is affirmed by the Authors, I cannot allow: above\na Hundred Elms in St. _James's Park_, some whereof were of such Growth,\nas they tell us they were planted by Cardinal _Woolsey_; whether that\nPart of it be true or not, is little to the Matter, but only to imply\nthat they were very great Trees: about _Baums_, commonly call'd\n_Whitmore house_, there were above Two Hundred Trees blown down, and\nsome of them of extraordinary Size broken off in the middle.\nAnd 'twas observ'd, that in the Morning after the Storm was abated, it\nblew so hard, the Women, who usually go for Milk to the Cow-keepers in\nthe Villages round the City, were not able to go along with their Pails\non their Heads; and One, that was more hardy than the rest, was blown\naway by the Fury of the Storm, and forced into a Pond, but by strugling\nhard got out, and avoided being drowned; and some that ventured out with\nMilk the Evening after, had their Pails and Milk blown off from their\nHeads.\n'Tis impossible to enumerate the Particulars of the Damage suffered, and\nof the Accidents which happened under these several Heads, in and about\nthe City of _London_: The Houses looked like Skeletons, and an universal\nAir of Horror seem'd to sit on the Countenances of the People; all\nBusiness seem'd to be laid aside for the Time, and People were generally\nintent upon getting Help to repair their Habitations.\nIt pleased God so to direct things, that there fell no Rain in any\nconsiderable Quantity, except what fell the same Night or the ensuing\nDay, for near Three Weeks after the Storm, though it was a Time of the\nYear that is generally dripping. Had a wet Rainy Season followed the\nStorm, the Damage which would have been suffered in and about this City\nto Houshold Goods, Furniture and Merchandise, would have been\nincredible, and might have equall'd all the the rest of the Calamity:\nbut the Weather prov'd fair and temperate for near a Month after the\nStorm, which gave People a great deal of Leisure in providing themselves\nShelter, and fortifying their Houses against the Accidents of Weather by\nDeal Boards, old Tiles, Pieces of Sail-Cloth, Tarpaulin, and the like.\n_II. Of the Damages in the Country_\nAs the Author of this was an Eye-witness and Sharer of the Particulars\nin the former Chapter; so, to furnish the Reader with Accounts as\nauthentick, and which he has as much cause to depend upon as if he had\nseen them, he has the several Particulars following from like\nEye-witnesses; and that in such a manner, as I think their Testimony is\nnot to be question'd, most of the Gentlemen being of Piety and\nReputation.\nAnd as a Publication was made to desire all Persons who were willing to\ncontribute to the forwarding this Work, and to transmit the Memory of so\nsignal a Judgment to Posterity, that they would be pleas'd to send up\nsuch authentick Accounts of the Mischiefs, Damages, and Disasters in\ntheir respective Counties that the World might rely on; it cannot,\nwithout a great breach of Charity, be suppos'd that Men mov'd by such\nPrinciples, without any private Interest or Advantage, would forge any\nthing to impose upon the World, and abuse Mankind in Ages to come.\nInterest, Parties, Strife, Faction, and particular Malice, with all the\nscurvy Circumstances attending such things, may prompt Men to strain a\nTale beyond its real Extent; but, that Men shou'd invent a Story to\namuse Posterity, in a case where they have no manner of Motive, where\nthe only Design is to preserve the Remembrance of Divine Vengeance, and\nput our Children in mind of God's Judgments upon their sinful Fathers,\nthis would be telling a Lye for God's sake, and doing Evil for the sake\nof it self, which is a step beyond the Devil.\nBesides, as most of our Relators have not only given us their Names, and\nsign'd the Accounts they have sent, but have also given us Leave to hand\ntheir Names down to Posterity with the Record of the Relation they give,\nwe would hope no Man will be so uncharitable to believe that Men would\nbe forward to set their Names to a voluntary Untruth, and have\nthemselves recorded to Posterity for having, without Motion, Hope,\nReward, or any other reason, impos'd a Falsity upon the World, and\ndishonour'd our Relation with the useless Banter of an Untruth.\nWe cannot therefore but think, that as the Author believes himself\nsufficiently back'd by the Authority of the Vouchers he presents, so\nafter what has been here premis'd, no Man will have any room to suspect\nus of Forgery.\nThe ensuing Relation therefore, as to Damages in the Country, shall\nconsist chiefly of Letters from the respective Places where such things\nhave happen'd; only that as all our Letters are not concise enough to be\nprinted as they are, where it is otherwise the Letter is digested into a\nRelation only; in which the Reader is assur'd we have always kept close\nto the matter of fact.\nAnd first, I shall present such Accounts as are entire, and related by\nMen of Letters, principally by the Clergy; which shall be given you in\ntheir own Words.\nThe first is from _Stowmarket_ in _Suffolk_, where, by the Violence of\nthe Storm, the finest Spire in that County, and but new built, _viz._\nwithin thirty Years, was overthrown, and fell upon the Church. The\nLetter is sign'd by the reverend Minister of the Place, and vouched by\ntwo of the principal Inhabitants, as follows.\n    Having seen an Advertisement of a Design to perpetuate the\n    Remembrance of the late dreadful Storm, by publishing a Collection\n    of all the remarkable Accidents occasion'd by it, and supposing the\n    Damage done to our Church to be none of the least, we were willing\n    to contribute something to your Design, by sending you an Account\n    thereof as follows.\n    We had formerly a Spire of Timber covered with Lead, of the height\n    of 77 Foot; which being in danger of falling, was taken down: and in\n    the Year 1674, with the Addition of 10 Loads of new Timber, 21\n    thousand and 8 hundred weight of Lead, a new one was erected, 100\n    Foot high from the Steeple, with a Gallery at the height of 40 Foot\n    all open, wherein hung a Clock-Bell of between 2 and 3 hundred\n    Weight. The Spire stood but 8 Yards above the Roof of the Church;\n    and yet by the extreme Violence of the Storm, a little before 6 in\n    the Morning the Spire was thrown down; and carrying with it all the\n    Battlements on the East side, it fell upon the Church at the\n    distance of 28 Foot; for so much is the distance between the Steeple\n    and the first Breach, which is on the North-side of the middle Roof,\n    of the length of 17 Foot, where it brake down 9 Spars clean, each 23\n    Foot long, and severally supported with very strong Braces. The\n    Spire inclining to the North, fell cross the middle Wall, and broke\n    off at the Gallery, the lower part falling in at the aforesaid\n    Breach, and the upper upon the North Isle, which is 24 Foot wide,\n    with a flat Roof lately built, all new and very strong: It carried\n    all before it from side to side, making a Breach 37 Foot long,\n    breaking in sunder two large Beams that went a-cross, which were 12\n    Inches broad and 15 deep, besides several other smaller. Besides\n    these two Breaches, there is a great deal of Damage done by the Fall\n    of great Stones upon other parts of the Roof, as well as by the\n    Wind's riving up the Lead, and a third part of the Pews broken all\n    in pieces, every thing falling into the Church, except the\n    Weather-cock, which was found in the Church-yard, at a considerable\n    distance, in the great Path that goes cross by the East End of the\n    Church. It will cost above 400 _l._ to make all good as it was\n    before. There were 3 single Chimneys blown down, and a Stack of 4\n    more together, all about the same time; and some others so shaken,\n    that they were forc'd to be pull'd down; but, we thank God, no body\n    hurt, tho' one Bed was broken in pieces that was very oft lain in:\n    no body lay in it that Night. Most Houses suffered something in\n    their Tiling, and generally all round the Country, there is\n    incredible Damage done to Churches, Houses, and Barns.\n      _Samuel Farr_, Vicar.\n      _John Gaudy._\n      _William Garrard._\nFrom _Oxfordshire_ we have an Account very authentick, and yet\nunaccountably strange: but the reverend Author of the Story being a\nGentleman whose Credit we cannot dispute, in acknowledgment to his\nCivility, and for the Advantage of our true Design, we give his Letter\nalso _verbatim_.\n    Meeting with an Advertisement of yours in the _Gazette_ of _Monday_\n    last, I very much approved of the Design, thinking it might be a\n    great Motive towards making People, when they hear the Fate of\n    others, return Thanks to Almighty God for his Providence in\n    preserving them. I accordingly was resolved to send you all I knew.\n    The Place where I have for some time lived is _Besselsleigh_, in\n    _Barkshire_, about four Miles S.W. of _Oxon_. The Wind began with\n    us much about One of the Clock in the Morning, and did not do much\n    harm, only in untiling Houses, blowing down a Chimney or two,\n    without any Person hurt, and a few Trees: but what was the only\n    thing that was strange, and to be observed, was a very tall Elm,\n    which was found the next Morning standing, but perfectly twisted\n    round; the Root a little loosen'd, but not torn up. But what\n    happened the Afternoon preceding, is abundantly more surprizing, and\n    is indeed the Intent of this Letter.\n    On _Friday_ the 26th of _November_, in the Afternoon, about Four of\n    the Clock, a Country Fellow came running to me in a great Fright,\n    and very earnestly entreated me to go and see a Pillar, as he call'd\n    it, in the Air, in a Field hard by. I went with the Fellow; and when\n    I came, found it to be a Spout marching directly with the Wind: and\n    I can think of nothing I can compare it to better than the Trunk of\n    an Elephant, which it resembled, only much bigger. It was extended\n    to a great Length, and swept the Ground as it went, leaving a Mark\n    behind. It crossed a Field; and what was very strange (and which I\n    should scarce have been induced to believe had I not my self seen\n    it, besides several Country-men who were astonish'd at it) meeting\n    with an Oak that stood towards the middle of the Field snapped the\n    Body of it asunder. Afterwards crossing a Road, it sucked up the\n    Water that was in the Cart-ruts: then coming to an old Barn, it\n    tumbled it down, and the Thatch that was on the Top was carried\n    about by the Wind, which was then very high, in great confusion.\n    After this I followed it no farther, and therefore saw no more of\n    it. But a Parishoner of mine going from hence to _Hinksey_, in a\n    Field about a quarter of a Mile off of this Place, was on the sudden\n    knock'd down, and lay upon the Place till some People came by and\n    brought him home; and he is not yet quite recovered. Having\n    examined him, by all I can collect both from the Time, and Place,\n    and Manner of his being knock'd down, I must conclude it was done by\n    the Spout, which, if its Force had not been much abated, had\n    certainly kill'd him: and indeed I attribute his Illness more to the\n    Fright, than the sudden Force with which he was struck down.\n    I will not now enter into a Dissertation on the Cause of Spouts, but\n    by what I can understand they are caused by nothing but the\n    Circumgyration of the Clouds, made by two contrary Winds meeting in\n    a Point, and condensing the Cloud till it falls in the Shape we see\n    it; which by the twisting Motion sucks up Water, and doth much\n    Mischief to Ships at Sea, where they happen oftner than at Land.\n    Whichever of the two Winds prevails, as in the above-mentioned was\n    the S.W. at last dissolves and dissipates the Cloud, and then the\n    Spout disappears.\n    This is all I have to communicate to you, wishing you all imaginable\n    Success in your Collection. Whether you insert this Account, I leave\n    wholly to your own Discretion; but can assure you, that to most of\n    these things, tho' very surprizing, I was my self an Eye-witness. I\n        _Your humble Servant_,\nThe judicious Reader will observe here, that this strange Spout, or\nCloud, or what else it may be call'd, was seen the Evening before the\ngreat Storm: from whence is confirm'd what I have said before of the\nviolent Agitation of the Air for some time before the Tempest.\nA short, but very regular Account, from _Northampton_, the Reader may\ntake in the following Letter; the Person being of undoubted Credit and\nReputation in the Town, and the Particulars very well worth remark.\n    Having seen in the _Gazette_ an Intimation, that there would be a\n    Memorial drawn up of the late terrible Wind, and the Effects of it,\n    and that the Composer desired Informations from credible Persons,\n    the better to enable him to do the same, I thought good to intimate\n    what happen'd in this Town, and its Neighbourhood. 1. The\n    Weather-cock of _All-Saints_ Church being placed on a mighty Spindle\n    of Iron, was bowed together, and made useless. Many Sheets of Lead\n    on that Church, as also on St. _Giles_'s and St. _Sepulchres_,\n    rowled up like a Scroll. Three Windmills belonging to the Town blown\n    down, to the Amazement of all Beholders; the mighty upright Post\n    below the Floor of the Mills being snapt in two like a Reed. Two\n    entire Stacks of Chimneys in a House uninhabited fell on two several\n    Roofs, and made a most amazing Ruin in the Chambers, Floors, and\n    even to the lower Windows and Wainscot, splitting and tearing it as\n    if a Blow by Gun-powder had happen'd. The Floods at this instant\n    about the South Bridge, from a violent S.W. Wind, rose to a great\n    and amazing height; the Wind coming over or a-thwart large open\n    Meadows, did exceeding damage in that part of the Town, by blowing\n    down some whole Houses, carrying whole Roofs at once into the\n    Streets, and very many lesser Buildings of Tanners, Fell-mongers,\n    Dyers, Glue-makers, _&c._ yet, through the Goodness of God, no\n    Person killed or maimed: the mighty Doors of the Sessions-house,\n    barr'd and lock'd, forced open, whereby the Wind entring, made a\n    miserable Havock of the large and lofty Windows: a Pinnacle on the\n    _Guild-hall_, with the Fane, was also blown down. To speak of Houses\n    shatter'd, Corn-ricks and Hovels blown from their Standings, would\n    be endless. In Sir _Thomas Samwell_'s Park a very great headed Elm\n    was blown over the Park-Wall into the Road, and yet never touched\n    the Wall, being carried some Yards. I have confined my self to this\n    Town. If the Composer finds any thing agreeable to his Design, he\n    may use it or dismiss it at his Discretion. Such Works of Providence\n    are worth recording. I am\n      _Your loving Friend,_\n    _Northampton_,\nThe following Account from _Berkly_ and other Places in\n_Gloucestershire_ and _Somersetshire_, &c. are the sad Effects of the\nprodigious Tide in the _Severn_. The Wind blowing directly into the\nMouth of that Channel we call the _Severn_ Sea, forced the Waters up in\nsuch quantity, that 'tis allow'd the Flood was eight Foot higher than\never was known in the Memory of Man; and at one Place, near _Huntspill_,\nit drove several Vessels a long way upon the Land; from whence, no\nsucceeding Tide rising to near that height, they can never be gotten\noff: as will appear in the two following Letters.\n    This Parish is a very large one in the County of _Gloucester_, on\n    one Side whereof runneth the River _Severn_, which by Reason of the\n    Violence of the late Storm beat down and tore to pieces the Sea Wall\n    (which is made of great Stones, and Sticks which they call Rouses; a\n    Yard and half long, about the Bigness of ones Thigh rammed into the\n    Ground as firm as possible) in many Places, and levell'd it almost\n    with the Ground, forcing vast Quantities of Earth a great Distance\n    from the Shore, and Stones, many of which were above a Hundred\n    Weight: and hereby the _Severn_ was let in above a Mile over one\n    part of the Parish, and did great Damage to the Land; it carried\n    away one House which was by the Sea-side, and a Gentleman's Stable,\n    wherein was a Horse, into the next Ground; and then the Stable fell\n    to pieces, and so the Horse came out. There is one thing more\n    remarkable in this Parish, and 'tis this: Twenty Six Sheets of Lead,\n    hanging all together, were blown off from the middle Isle of our\n    Church, and were carried over the North Isle, which is a very large\n    one, without touching it; and into the Church-yard ten Yards distant\n    from the Church; and they were took up all joyned together as they\n    were on the Roof; the Plummer told me that the Sheets weighed each\n    Three Hundred and a half one with another. This is what is most\n    observable in our Parish; but I shall give you an Account of one\n    thing (which perhaps you may have from other Hands) that happen'd in\n    another, call'd _Kingscote_, a little Village about Three Miles from\n    _Tedbury_, and Seven from us; where _William Kingscote_ Esq; has\n    many Woods; among which was one Grove of very tall Trees, being each\n    near Eighty Foot high; the which he greatly valued for the Tallness\n    and Prospect of them, and therefore resolv'd never to cut them down:\n    But it so happen'd, that Six Hundred of them, within the Compass of\n    Five Acres were wholly blown down; (and suppos'd to be much at the\n    same time) each Tree tearing up the Ground with its Root; so that\n    the Roots of most of the Trees, with the Turf and Earth about them,\n    stood up at least Fifteen or Sixteen Foot high; the lying down of\n    which Trees is an amazing Sight to all Beholders. This Account was\n    given by the Gentleman himself, whom I know very well. I have no\n    more to add, but that I am, _Your humble Servant_, wishing you good\n    Success in your Undertaking,\n      _Henry Head_, Vicar of _Berkly_.\n    The Damage of the Sea-wall may amount to about five Hundred Pounds.\n    I Received a printed Paper sometime since, wherein I was desired to\n    send you an Account of what happen'd in the late Storm: and I should\n    have answered it sooner, but was willing to make some Enquiry first\n    about this County; and by what I can hear or learn, the dismal\n    Accident of our late Bishop and Lady was most remarkable; who was\n    killed by the Fall of two Chimney Stacks, which fell on the Roof,\n    and drove it in upon my Lord's Bed, forced it quite through the next\n    Flower down into the Hall, and buried them both in the Rubbish; and\n    'tis suppos'd my Lord was getting up, for he was found some Distance\n    from my Lady, who was found in her Bed; but my Lord had his Morning\n    Gown on, so that 'tis suppos'd he was coming from the Bed just as it\n    fell. We had likewise two small Houses blown flat down just as the\n    People were gone out to a Neighbour's House; and several other\n    Chimney Stacks fell down, and some through the Roof, but no other\n    Accident as to Death in this Town or near it: abundance of Tiles are\n    blown off, and likewise Thatch in and about this Town, and several\n    Houses uncover'd, in the Country all about us, abundance of Apple\n    and Elm Trees are rooted up by the Ground; and also abundance of\n    Wheat and Hay-mows blown down: at _Huntspil_, about twelve Miles\n    from this Town, there was Four or Five small Vessels drove a-shoar\n    which remain there still, and 'tis suppos'd cannot be got off; and\n    in the same Parish, the Tide broke in Breast high; but all the\n    People escap'd only one Woman, who was drowned. These are all the\n    remarkable Things that happen'd near us, as I can hear of; and is\n    all, but my humble Service; and beg Leave to subscribe my self,\n        _Your most humble Servant_,\n    _Wells_ in _Somersetshire_,\n    The Dreadful Storm did this Church but little Damage, but our Houses\n    were terribly shaken hereabouts, and the Tide drowned the greatest\n    part of the Sheep on our Common; as it likewise did, besides many\n    Cows, between this Place and _Bristol_; on the opposite Shore of\n    _Glamorganshire_, as (I suppose you may also know) it brake down\n    part of _Chepstow_ Bridge, o'er the _Wye_. In the midst of this\n    Church-yard grew a vast Tree, thought to be the most large and\n    flourishing Elm in the Land which was torn up by the Roots, some of\n    which are really bigger than ones Middle, and several than a Man's\n    Thigh; the Compass of them curiously interwoven with the Earth,\n    being from the Surface (or Turf) to the Basis, full an Ell in Depth,\n    and Eighteen Foot and half in the Diameter, and yet thrown up near\n    Perpendicular; the Trunk, together with the loaden Roots, is well\n    judg'd to be Thirteen Tun at least, and the Limbs to make Six Load\n    of Billets with Faggots; and, about Two Years since, our Minister\n    observ'd, that the circumambient Boughs dropt round above Two\n    Hundred Yards: He hath given it for a SINGERS SEAT in our said\n    Church, with this Inscription thereon; _Nov. 27. A.D._ 1703.\n    _Miserere_, &c.\n    _Slimbrige near Severn_\n    Dec. 28. 1703.     _William Frith_ Church-Warden.\n    By the late Dreadful Storm a considerable Breach was made in our\n    Town Wall, and Part of the Church Steeple blown down; besides most\n    of the Inhabitants suffered very much by untiling their Houses,\n    _&c._ and abundance of Trees unrooted: at the same time our River\n    overflowed, and drowned the low Grounds of both Sides the Town,\n    whereby several Hundreds of Sheep were lost, and some Cattle; and\n    one of our Market Boats lifted upon our Key. This is a true Account\n    of most of our Damages. I am,\n      _Your humble Servant_,\n    _Cardiff_,\n    Jan. 10. 1703.     William Jones.\n    _Honour'd Sir_,\n    In Obedience to your Request I have here sent you a particular\n    Account of the damages sustain'd in our Parish by the late Violent\n    Storm; and because that of our Church is the most material which I\n    have to impart to you, I shall therefore begin with it. It is the\n    fineness of our Church which magnifies our present loss, for in the\n    whole it is a large and noble structure, compos'd within and without\n    of Ashler curiously wrought, and consisting of a stately Roof in the\n    middle, and two Isles runing a considerable length from one end of\n    it to the other, makes a very beautiful Figure. It is also adorn'd\n    with 28 admired and Celebrated Windows, which, for the variety and\n    fineness of the Painted Glass that was in them, do justly attract\n    the Eyes of all curious Travellers to inspect and behold them; nor\n    is it more famous for its Glass, than newly renown'd for the Beauty\n    of its Seats and Paving, both being chiefly the noble Gift of that\n    pious and worthy Gentleman _Andrew Barker_, Esq; the late Deceas'd\n    Lord of the Mannor. So that all things consider'd, it does equal, at\n    least, if not exceed, any Parochial Church in _England_. Now that\n    part of it which most of all felt the fury of the Winds, was, a\n    large middle West Window, in Dimension about 15 Foot wide, and 25\n    Foot high: it represents the general Judgment, and is so fine a\n    piece of Art, that 1500 _l._ has formerly been bidden for it, a\n    price, though very tempting, yet were the Parishoners so just and\n    honest as to refuse it. The upper part of this Window, just above\n    the place where our Saviour's Picture is drawn sitting on a Rainbow,\n    and the Earth his Foot-stool, is entirely ruin'd, and both sides are\n    so shatter'd and torn, especially the left, that upon a general\n    Computation, a fourth part, at least, is blown down and destroy'd.\n    The like Fate has another West Window on the left side of the\n    former, in Dimension about 10 Foot broad, and 15 Foot high,\n    sustain'd; the upper half of which is totally broke, excepting one\n    Stone Munnel. Now if this were but ordinary Glass, we might quickly\n    compute what our repairs would Cost, but we the more lament our\n    misfortune herein, because the Paint of these two, as of all the\n    other Windows in our Church, is stain'd thro' the Body of the Glass;\n    so that if that be true which is generally said, that this Art is\n    lost, then have we an irretrievable loss. There are other damages\n    about our Church, which, tho' not so great as the former, do yet as\n    much testify how strong and boisterous the Winds were, for they\n    unbedded 3 Sheets of Lead upon the uppermost Roof, and roll'd them\n    up like so much Paper. Over the Church-porch, a large Pinnacle and\n    two Battlements were blown down upon the leads of it, but resting\n    there, and their fall being short, these will be repair'd with\n    little Cost. This is all I have to say concerning our Church: Our\n    Houses come next to be considered, and here I may tell you, that\n    (thanks be to God) the effects of the Storm were not so great as\n    they have been in many other places; several Chimneys, and Tiles,\n    and Slats, were thrown down, but no body kill'd or wounded. Some of\n    the Poor, because their Houses were Thatch'd, were the greatest\n    sufferers; but to be particular herein, would be very frivolous, as\n    well as vexatious. One Instance of Note ought not to omitted; on\n    _Saturday_ the 26th, being the day after the Storm, about 2-a-Clock\n    in the Afternoon, without any previous warning, a sudden flash of\n    Lightning, with a short, but violent clap of Thunder, immediately\n    following it like the Discharge of Ordnance, fell upon a new and\n    strong built House in the middle of our Town, and at the same time\n    disjointed two Chimneys, melted some of the Lead of an upper Window,\n    and struck the Mistress of the House into a Swoon, but this, as\n    appear'd afterwards, prov'd the effect more of fear, than of any\n    real considerable hurt to be found about her. I have nothing more\n    to add, unless it be the fall of several Trees and Ricks of Hay\n    amongst us, but these being so common every where, and not very many\n    in number here, I shall Conclude this tedious Scrible, and Subscribe\n    my self,\n      _Your most Obedient and Humble Servant_,\n    Fairford, Gloucest.\n    _January_ 1703/4.       Edw. Shipton, _Vic._\n_The following Letters, tho' in a homely stile, are written by very\nhonest, plain and observing Persons, to whom entire Credit may be\ngiven._\n_BREWTON._\n    Some time since I received a Letter from you, to give you an Account\n    of the most particular Things that hapned in the late dreadful\n    Tempest of Wind, and in the first Place is the Copy of a Letter from\n    a Brother of mine, that was an Exciseman of _Axbridge_, in the West\n    of our County of _Somerset_; these are his Words,\n    What I know of the Winds in these Parts, are, that it broke down\n    many Trees, and that the House of one _Richard Henden_; of\n    _Charter-House_ on _Mendip_, call'd _Piney_, was almost blown down,\n    and in saving their House, they, and the Servants, and others, heard\n    grievous Cries and Scrieches in the Air. The Tower of _Compton\n    Bishop_ was much shatter'd, and the Leads that cover'd it were taken\n    clean away, and laid flat in the Church-Yard: The House of _John\n    Cray_ of that place, received much and strange Damages, which\n    together with his part in the Sea-wall, amounted to 500 _l._ Near\n    the Salt-works in the Parish of _Burnham_, was driven five trading\n    Vessels, as Colliers and Corn-dealers, betwixt _Wales_ and\n    _Bridgwater_, at least 100 Yards on Pasture Ground. In the North\n    Marsh, on the sides of _Bristol_ River, near _Ken_ at _Walton\n    Woodspring_, the Waters broke with such Violence, that it came six\n    Miles into the Country drowning much Cattel, carrying away several\n    Hay-ricks and Stacks of Corn: And at a Farm at _Churchill_ near\n    _Wrington_, it blew down 150 Elms that grew most in Rows, and were\n    laid as Uniform as Soldiers lodge their Arms.\n    At _Cheddar_ near _Axbridge_, was much harm done in Apple-trees,\n    Houses, and such like; but what's worth remark, tho' not the very\n    Night of the Tempest, a Company of wicked People being at a Wedding\n    of one _Thomas Marshall_, _John_, the Father of the said _Thomas_,\n    being as most of the Company was very Drunk, after much filthy\n    Discourse while he was eating, a strange Cat pulling something from\n    his Trenchard, he Cursing her, stoopt to take it up, and died\n    immediately.\n    At _Brewton_ what was most Remarkable, was this, that one _John\n    Dicer_ of that Town, lay the Night as the Tempest was, in the Barn\n    of one _John Seller_, the Violence of the Wind broke down the Roof\n    of the Barn, but fortunately for him there was a Ladder which staid\n    up a Rafter, which would have fell upon the said _John Dicer_; but\n    he narrowly escaping being killed, did slide himself thro' the\n    broken Roof, and so got over the Wall without any great hurt. What\n    hurt was done more about that Town is not so considerable as in\n    other Places; Such as blowing off the Thatch from a great many back\n    Houses of the Town; for the Town is most tiled with a sort of heavy\n    Tile, that the Wind had no power to move; there was some hurt done\n    to the Church, which was not above 40_s._ besides the Windows, where\n    was a considerable damage, the Lady _Fitzharding_'s House standing\n    by the Church, the Battlement with part of the Wall of the House was\n    blown down, which 'tis said, above 20 Men with all their strength\n    could not have thrown down; besides, a great many Trees in the Park\n    torn up by the Roots, and laid in very good Order one after another;\n    it was taken notice that the Wind did not come in a full Body at\n    once, but it came in several Gusts, as my self have taken Notice as\n    I rid the Country, that in half a Miles riding I could not see a\n    Tree down, nor much hurt to Houses, then again I might for some\n    space see the Trees down, and all the Houses shattred: and I have\n    taken Notice that it run so all up the Country in such a Line as the\n    Wind sat; about One of the Clock it turn'd to the North West, but at\n    the beginning was at South West; I my self was up until One and then\n    I went to Bed, but the highest of the Wind was after that, so that\n    my Bed did shake with me.\n    What was about _Wincanton_, was, that one Mrs. _Gapper_ had 36\n    Elm-trees growing together in a Row, 35 of them was blown down; and\n    one _Edgehill_ of the same Town, and his Family being a Bed did\n    arise, hearing the House begin to Crak, and got out of the Doors\n    with his whole Family, and as soon as they were out the Roof of the\n    House fell in, and the Violence of the Wind took of the Children's\n    Head-cloaths, that they never saw them afterwards.\n    At _Evercreech_, three Miles from _Brewton_, there were a poor Woman\n    beg'd for Lodging in the Barn of one _Edmond Peny_ that same Night\n    that the Storm was, she was wet the Day before in Travelling, so she\n    hung up her Cloaths in the Barn, and lay in the Straw; but when the\n    Storm came it blew down the Roof of the Barn where she lay, and she\n    narrowly escaped with her Life, being much bruised, and got out\n    almost naked through the Roof where it was broken most, and went to\n    the dwelling House of the said _Edmond Peny_, and they did arise,\n    and did help her to something to cover her, till they could get out\n    her Cloaths; that place of _Evercreech_ received a great deal of\n    hurt in their Houses, which is too large to put here.\n    At _Batcomb_ Easterly of _Evercreech_, they had a great deal of\n    Damage done as I said before, it lay exactly with the Wind from\n    _Evercreech_, and both places received a great deal of Damage; there\n    was one Widow _Walter_ lived in a House by it self, the Wind carried\n    away the Roof, and the Woman's pair of Bodice, that was never heard\n    of again, and the whole Family escaped narrowly with their Lives;\n    all the Battlements of the Church on that side of the Tower next to\n    the Wind was blown in, and a great deal of Damage done to the\n    Church.\n    At _Shipton Mallet_ was great Damages done, as I was told by the\n    Post that comes to _Brewton_, that the Tiles of the Meeting House\n    was blown off, and being a sort of light Tiles they flew against the\n    Neighbouring Windows, and broke them to pieces: And at _Chalton_\n    near _Shepton Mallet_ at one _Abbot_'s, the Roof was carried from\n    the Walls of the House and the House mightily shaken, and seemingly\n    the Foundation removed, and in the Morning they found a Foundation\n    Stone of the House upon the top of the Wall, where was a shew in the\n    Ground of its being driven out. At _Dinder_ within two Miles of\n    _Shepton_, there was one _John Allen_, and his Son, being out of\n    Doors in the midst of the Tempest, they saw a great Body of Fire\n    flying on the side of a Hill, call'd _Dinder-hill_, about half a\n    Mile from them, with a Shew of black in the midst of it, and another\n    Body of Fire following it, something smaller than the former.\n    There has been a strange thing at _Butly_, eight Miles from\n    _Brewton_, which was thought to be Witchcraft, where a great many\n    unusual Things happened to one _Pope_, and his Family, especially to\n    a Boy, that was his Son, that having lain several Hours Dead, when\n    he came to himself, he told his Father, and several of his\n    Neighbours, Strange Stories of his being carried away by some of his\n    Neighbours that have been counted wicked Persons; the Things have\n    been so strangely related that Thousands of People have gone to see\n    and hear it; it lasted about a Year or more: But since the Storm I\n    have inquired of the Neighbours how it was, and they tell me, that\n    since the late Tempest of Wind the House and People have been quiet;\n    for its generally said, that there was some Conjuration in quieting\n    of that House. If you have a desire to hear any farther Account of\n    it, I will make it my Business to inquire farther of it, for there\n    were such. Things happened in that time which is seldom heard of,\n      _Your humble Servant_\n    _Our Town of_ Butly _lyes in such a place, that no Post-House is in\n    a great many Miles of it, or you should hear oftner._\n    I received yours, desiring an Account of the Damage done by the late\n    great Wind about us. At _Wilsnorton_, three Miles from _Wittney_,\n    the Lead of the Church was rouled, and great Damage done to the\n    Church, many great Elms were tore up by the Roots: At _Helford_, two\n    Miles from us, a Rookery of Elms, was most of it tore up by the\n    Roots: At _Cockeup_, two Miles from us, was a Barn blown down, and\n    several Elms blown down a Cross the High-way, so that there was no\n    passage; a great Oak of about nine or ten Loads was blown down,\n    having a Raven sitting in it, his Wing-feathers got between two\n    Bows, and held him fast; but the Raven received no hurt: At\n    _Duckelton_, a little thatch't House was taken off the\n    Ground-pening, and removed a distance from the place, the covering\n    not damaged. Hay-recks abundance are torn to pieces: At _Wittney_,\n    six Stacks of Chimneys blown down, one House had a sheet of Lead\n    taken from one side and blown over to the other, and many Houses\n    were quite torn to pieces; several Hundred Trees blown down, some\n    broke in the middle, and some torn up by the Roots. Blessed be God,\n    I hear neither Man, Woman nor Child that received any harm about us.\n      _Your Servant_,\n    _Wittney, Oxfordsh._   Richard Abenell.\n_ILMISTER, Somerset_\n_Brief but exact Remarks on the late Dreadful Storms of Wind, as it\naffected the Town, and the Parts adjacent._\n    _Imprimus._ At _Ashil_-Parish 3 Miles West from this Town, the\n    Stable belonging to the Hare and Hounds Inn was blown down, in which\n    were three Horses, one kill'd, another very much bruised.\n    2. At _Jurdans_, a Gentleman's Seat in the same Parish, there was a\n    Brick Stable, whose Roof, one Back, and one End Wall, were all\n    thrown down, and four foot in depth of the Fore Wall; in this Stable\n    were 4 Horses, which by reason of the Hay-loft that bore up the\n    Roof, were all preserv'd.\n    3. At _Sevington_ Parish, three Miles East from this Town, _John_\n    Hutkens had the Roof of a new built House heaved clean off the\n    Walls. _Note_, the House was not glazed, and the Roof was thatch'd.\n    4. In _White Larkington_ Park, a Mile East from this Town, besides\n    four or five hundred tall Trees broken and blown down, (admirable to\n    behold, what great Roots was turned up) there were three very large\n    Beaches, two of them that were near five Foot thick in the Stem were\n    broken off, one of them near the Root, the other was broken off\n    twelve Foot above, and from that place down home to the Root was\n    shattered and flown; the other that was not broken, cannot have less\n    than forty Waggon Loads in it; a very fine Walk of Trees before the\n    House all blown down, and broke down the Roof of a Pidgeon House,\n    the Rookery carried away in Lanes, the Lodg-House damaged in the\n    Roof, and one End by the fall of Trees. In the Garden belonging to\n    the House, was a very fine Walk of tall Firrs, twenty of which were\n    broken down.\n    5. The damage in the Thatch of Houses, (which is the usual Covering\n    in these Parts) is so great and general, that the price of Reed\n    arose from twenty Shillings to fifty or three Pounds a Hundred;\n    insomuch that to shelter themselves from the open Air, many poor\n    People were glad to use Bean, Helm and Furse, to thatch their Houses\n    with, Things never known to be put to such Use before.\n    6. At _Kingston_, a Mile distance from this Town, the Church was\n    very much shattered in its Roof, and Walls too, and all our Country\n    Churches much shattered, so that Churches and Gentlemen's Houses\n    which were tiled, were so shatter'd in their Roofs, that at present,\n    they are generally patch'd with Reed, not in Compliance with the\n    Mode, but the Necessity of the Times.\n    7. At _Broadway_, two Miles West of this Town, _Hugh Betty_, his\n    Wife, and four Children being in his House, it was by the violence\n    of the Storm blown down, one of his Children killed, his Wife\n    wounded, but recovered, the rest escaped with their Lives. A large\n    Alms-house had most of the Tile blown off, and other Houses much\n    shattered; a very large Brick Barn blown down, Walls and Roof to the\n    Ground.\n    8. Many large Stacks of Wheat were broken, some of the Sheaves\n    carried two or three Hundred Yards from the Place, many Stacks of\n    Hay turned over, some Stacks of Corn heaved off the Stadle, and set\n    down on the Ground, and not broken.\n    9. _Dowlish Walk_, two Miles South East, the Church was very much\n    shattered, several Load of Stones fell down, not as yet repair'd,\n    therefore can't express the damage. A very large Barn broken down\n    that stood near the Church, much damage was done to Orchards, not\n    only in this Place, but in all places round, some very fine Orchards\n    quite destroyed: some to their great Cost had the Trees set up right\n    again, but a Storm of Wind came after, which threw down many of the\n    Trees again; as to Timber Trees, almost all our high Trees were\n    broken down in that violent Storm.\n    10. In this Town _Henry Dunster_, his Wife and 2 Children, was in\n    their House when it was blown down, but they all escaped with their\n    Lives, only one of them had a small Bruise with a piece of Timber,\n    as she was going out of the Chamber when the Roof broke in.\n    The Church, in this Place, scap'd very well, as to its Roof, being\n    cover'd with Lead only on the Chancel; the Lead was at the top of\n    the Roof heaved up, and roll'd together, more than ten Men could\n    turn back again, without cutting the Sheets of Lead, which was done\n    to put it in its place again: But in general the Houses much broken\n    and shatter'd, besides the fall of some.\n    This is a short, but true Account. I have heard of several other\n    things which I have not mentioned, because I could not be positive\n    in the truth of them, unless I had seen it. This is what I have been\n    to see the truth of. You may enlarge on these short Heads, and\n    methodize 'em as you see good.\n    At _Henton St. George_, at the Lord _Pawlet_'s, a new Brick Wall was\n    broken down by the Wind for above 100 foot, the Wall being built not\n    above 2 years since, as also above 60 Trees near 100 foot high.\n    At _Barrington_, about 2 miles North of this Town, there was blown\n    down above eight-score Trees, being of an extraordinary height, at\n    the Lady _Strouds._\n_As we shall not crow'd our Relation with many Letters from the same\nplaces, so it cannot be amiss to let the World have, at least, one\nAuthentick Account from most of those Places where any Capital Damages\nhave been sustain'd and to summ up the rest in a general Head at the end\nof this Chapter._\n_From_ Wiltshire _we have the following Account from the Reverend the\nMinister of Upper_ Donhead _near_ Shaftsbury; _to which the Reader is\nreferr'd as follows._\n    As the Undertaking you are engag'd in, to preserve the Remembrance\n    of the late dreadful Tempest, is very commendable in it self, and\n    may in several respects be serviceable not only to the present Age,\n    but also to Posterity; so it merits a suitable Encouragement, and,\n    'tis hop'd, it will meet with such, from all that have either a true\n    sense of Religion, or have had any sensible share of the care of\n    Providence over them, or of the goodness of God unto them in the\n    Land of the Living, upon that occasion. There are doubtless vast\n    numbers of People in all Parts (where the Tempest raged) that have\n    the greatest reason (as the Author of this Paper for one hath) to\n    bless God for their wonderful preservation, and to tell it to the\n    Generation following. But to detain you no longer with Preliminaries,\n    I shall give you a faithful Account of what occurr'd in my\n    Neighbourhood (according to the Conditions mention'd in the\n    Advertisement in the _Gazette_) worthy, at least, of my notice, if\n    not of the Undertakers; and I can assure you, that the several\n    Particulars were either such as I can vouch-for on my own certain\n    Knowledge and Observation, or else such as I am satisfy'd of the\n    truth of by the Testimony of others, whose Integrity I have no\n    reason to suspect. I will say no more than this in general,\n    concerning the Storm, that, at its height, it seem'd, for some\n    hours, to be a perfect Hurrican, the Wind raging from every Quarter,\n    especially from all the Points of the Compass, from _N.E._ to the\n    _N.W._ as the dismal Effects of it in these Parts do evidently\n    demonstrate, in the demolishing of Buildings (or impairing 'em at\n    best) and in the throwing up vast numbers of Trees by the Roots, or\n    snapping them off in their Bodies, or larger Limbs. But as to some\n    remarkable Particulars, you may take these following, _viz._\n    1. The Parish-Church receiv'd little damage, tho' it stands high,\n    the chief was in some of the Windows on the N. side, and in the fall\n    of the Top-stone of one of the Pinnacles, which fell on a House\n    adjoining to the Tower with little hurt to the Roof, from which\n    glancing it rested on the Leads of the South-Isle of the Church. At\n    the fall of it an aged Woman living in the said House on which the\n    Stone fell, heard horrible Scrieches (as she constantly averrs) in\n    the Air, but none before nor afterwards.\n    2. Two stone Chimney-tops were thrown down, and 2 broad Stones of\n    each of them lay at even poize on the respective ridges of both the\n    Houses, and tho' the Wind sat full against one of them to have\n    thrown it off, (and then it had fallen over a Door, in and out at\n    which several People were passing during the Storm) and tho' the\n    other fell against the Wind, yet neither of the said Stones stirr'd.\n    3. A Stone of near 400 Weight, having lain about 7 Years under a\n    Bank, defended from the Wind as it then sat, tho' it lay so long as\n    to be fix'd in the ground, and was as much out of the Wind, as could\n    be, being fenced by the Bank, and a low Stone-wall upon the Bank,\n    none of which was demolish'd, tho' 2 small Holms standing in the\n    Bank between the Wall, and the Stone, at the foot of the Bank were\n    blown up by the roots; I say, this Stone, tho' thus fenced from the\n    Storm, was carried from the place where it lay, into an hollow-way\n    beneath, at least seven Yards from the place, where it was known to\n    have lain for 7 Years before.\n    4. A Widdow-woman living in one part of an House by her self, kept\n    her Bed till the House over her was uncover'd, and she expected the\n    fall of the Timber and Walls; but getting below Stairs in the dark,\n    and opening the Door to fly for shelter, the Wind was so strong in\n    the Door, that she could neither get out at it, tho' she attempted\n    to go out on her knees and hands, nor could she shut the Door again\n    with all her strength, but was forced to sit alone for several hours\n    ('till the Storm slacken'd), fearing every Gust would have buried\n    her in the Ruins; and yet it pleas'd God to preserve her, for the\n    House (tho' a feeble one) stood over the Storm.\n    5. Another, who made Malt in his Barn, had been turning his Malt\n    sometime before the Storm was at its height, and another of the\n    Family being desirous to go again into the said Barn sometime after,\n    was disswaded from it, and immediately thereupon the said Barn was\n    thrown down by the Storm.\n    6. But a much narrower Escape had one, for whose safety the\n    Collector of these Passages has the greatest reason to bless and\n    praise the great Preserver of Men, who was twice in his Bed that\n    dismal Night (tho' he had warning sufficient to deter him the first\n    time by the falling of some of the Seiling on his Back and\n    Shoulders, as he was preparing to go to Bed) and was altogether\n    insensible of the great danger he was in, 'till the next morning\n    after the Day-light appear'd, when he found the Tiles, on the side\n    of the House opposite to the main Stress of the Weather, blown up in\n    two places, one of which was over his Beds-head (about 9 foot above\n    it) in which 2 or 3 Laths being broken, let down a Square of 8 or 10\n    Stone Tiles upon one single Lath, where they hung dropping inward a\n    little, and bended the Lath like a Bow, but fell not: What the\n    consequence of their Fall had been, was obvious to as many as saw\n    it, and none has more reason to magnify God's great Goodness, in\n    this rescue of his Providence, than the Relater.\n    7. A young Man of the same Parish, who was sent abroad to look after\n    some black Cattle and Sheep that fed in an Inclosure, in, or near to\n    which there were some Stacks of Corn blown down, reports, That tho'\n    he had much difficulty to find the Inclosure in the dark, and to get\n    thither by reason of the Tempest then raging in the height of its\n    fury; yet being there, he saw a mighty Body of Fire on an high ridge\n    of Hills, about 3 parts of a Mile from the said Inclosure, which\n    gave so clear a Light into the Valley below, as that by it the said\n    young Man could distinctly descry all the Sheep and Cattle in the\n    said Pasture, so as to perceive there was not one wanting.\n    8. At _Ashegrove_, in the same Parish (where many tall Trees were\n    standing on the steep side of an Hill) there were two Trees of\n    considerable bigness blown up against the side of the Hill, which\n    seems somewhat strange, to such as have seen how many are blown, at\n    the same place, a quite contrary way, _i.e._ down the Hill; and to\n    fall downwards was to fall with the Wind, as upward, was to fall\n    against it.\n    9. One in this Neighbourhood had a Poplar in his Back-side of near\n    16 Yards high blown down, which standing near a small Current of\n    Water, the Roots brought up near a Tun of Earth with them, and\n    there the Tree lay for some days after the Storm; but when the Top\n    or Head of the Tree was saw'd off from the Body (tho' the Boughs\n    were nothing to the weight of the But End, yet) the Tree mounted,\n    and fell back into it's place, and stood as upright without its Head,\n    as ever it had done with it. And the same happen'd at the Lady\n    _Banks_ her House near _Shaftsbury_, where a Wall-nut-Tree was\n    thrown down in a place that declin'd somewhat, and after the greater\n    Limbs had been cut off in the day time, went back in the Night\n    following, of it self, and now stands in the same place and posture\n    it stood in before it was blown down. I saw it standing the 14th of\n    this Instant, and could hardly perceive any Token of its having been\n    Down, so very exactly it fell back into its place. This is somewhat\n    the more remarkable, because the Ground (as I said) was declining,\n    and consequently the Tree raised against the Hill. To this I shall\n    only add, at present, that\n    10. This Relator lately riding thro' a neighbouring Parish, saw two\n    Trees near two Houses thrown besides the said Houses, and very near\n    each House, which yet did little or no harm, when if they had fallen\n    with the Wind, they must needs have fallen directly upon the said\n    Houses. And\n    11. That this Relator had two very tall Elms thrown up by the Roots,\n    which fell in among five young Walnut Trees, without injuring a Twig\n    or Bud of either of them, as rais'd the admiration of such as saw\n    12. In the same place, the Top of another Elm yet standing, was\n    carry'd of from the Body of the Tree, a good part of 20 Yards.\n    _SIR_; I shall trouble you no further at present, you may perhaps\n    think this enough, and too much; but however that may be, you, or\n    your ingenious Undertakers are left at liberty to publish so much,\n    or so little of this Narrative, as shall be thought fit for the\n    Service of the Publick. I must confess the particular Deliverances\n    were what chiefly induced me to set Pen to Paper, tho' the other\n    Matters are Considerable, but whatever regard you shew to the\n    latter, in Justice you should publish the former to the World, as\n    the Glory of God is therein concern'd more immediately, to promote\n    which, is the only aim of this Paper. And the more effectually to\n    induce you to do me Right, (for contributing a slender Mite towards\n    your very laudable Undertaking) I make no manner of Scruple to\n    subscribe my self,\n      _Upper Donhead,_      _Sir, Yours,_ &c.\n      _Rector of_ Upper Donhead Wilts near _Shaftsbury_.\n_From_ Littleton _in_ Worcestershire, _and_ Middleton _in_ Oxfordshire,\n_the following Letters may be a Specimen of what those whole Counties\nfelt, and of which we have several other particular Accounts._\n    Publick notice being given of a designed Collection of the most\n    Prodigious, as well as lamentable Effects of the last dreadful\n    Tempest of Wind. There are many Persons hereabouts, and I suppose in\n    many other places, wish all speedy furtherance and good Success to\n    that so useful and pious Undertaking, for it may very well be\n    thought to have a good Influence both upon the present Age, and\n    succeeding Generation, to beget in them a holy admiration and fear\n    of that tremendous Power and Majesty, which as one Prophet tells us,\n    _Causeth the Vapours to ascend from the Ends of the Earth, and\n    bringeth the Wind out of his Treasures, and as the Priest Saith,\n    hath so done his marvellous Works, that they ought to be had in\n    remembrance_. As to these Villages of _Littleton_ in\n    _Worcestershire_, I can only give this Information, that this\n    violent Hurricane visited us also in its passage to the great Terror\n    of the Inhabitants, who although by the gracious Providence of God\n    all escaped with their Lives and Limbs, and the main Fabrick of\n    their Houses stood; tho' with much shaking, and some damage in the\n    Roofs of many of them: Yet when the Morning Light appeared after\n    that dismal Night, they were surpris'd with fresh apprehensions of\n    the Dangers escaped, when they discover'd the sad Havock that was\n    made among the Trees of their Orchards and Closes, very many Fruit\n    Trees, and many mighty Elms being torn up, and one Elm above the\n    rest, of very great Bulk and ancient Growth I observed, which might\n    have defied the Strength of all the Men and Teams in the Parish,\n    (tho' assaulted in every Branch with Roaps and Chains) was found\n    torn up by the Roots, all sound, and of vast Strength and Thickness,\n    and with its fall (as was thought) by the help of the same impetuous\n    Gusts, broke off in the middle of the Timber another great Elm its\n    Fellow, and next Neighbour. And that which may exercise the Thoughts\n    of the Curious, some little Houses and Out-houses that seemed to\n    stand in the same Current, and without any visible Burrough or\n    Shelter, escaped in their Roofs, without any, or very little Damage:\n    What Accidents of Note hapned in our Neighbouring Parishes, I\n    suppose you may receive from other Hands. This, (I thank God) is all\n    that I have to transmit unto you from this place, but that I am a\n    Well-wisher to your Work in Hand, _And your Humble Servant_,\n    _Littleton, Decem._ 20.   _Ralph Norris_.\n    _Middleton-Stony_ in _Oxfordshire_, Nov. 26. 1703\n    The Wind being South West and by West, it began to blow very hard at\n    12 of the Clock at Night, and about four or five in the Morning\n    _Nov._ 27, the Hurricane was very terrible; many large Trees were\n    torn up by the Roots in this Place; the Leads of the Church were\n    Roll'd up, the Stone Battlements of the Tower were blown upon the\n    Leads, several Houses and Barns were uncover'd, part of a new built\n    Wall of Brick, belonging to a Stable was blown down, and very much\n    damage, of the like Nature, was done by the Wind in the Towns and\n    Villages adjacent.\n      _William Offley_, Rector of _Middleton-Stony_.\n_From_ Leamington Hasting, _near_ Dun-_Church in_ Warwickshire, _we have\nthe following Account._\n    I find in the Advertisments a Desire to have an Account of what\n    happen'd remarkable in the late terrible Storm in the Country; the\n    Stories every where are very many, and several of them such as will\n    scarce gain Credit; one of them I send here an Account of being an\n    Eye Witness, and living upon the place: The Storm here began on the\n    26th of _Novem._ 1703. about 12-a-clock, but the severest Blasts\n    were between 5 and six in the Morning, and between Eight and Nine\n    the 27th I went up to the Church, where I found all the middle Isle\n    clearly stript of the Lead from one End to the other, and a great\n    many of the Sheets lying on the East End upon the Church, roll'd up\n    like a piece of Cloth: I found on the Ground six Sheets of Lead, at\n    least 50 Hundred weight, all joyn'd together, not the least parted,\n    but as they lay upon the Isle, which six Sheets of Lead were so\n    carried in the Air by the Wind fifty Yards and a Foot, measured by a\n    Workman exactly as cou'd be, from the place of the Isle where they\n    lay, to the place they fell; and they might have been carried a\n    great way further, had they not happen'd in their way upon a Tree,\n    struck off an Arm of it near 17 Yards high; the End of one Sheet was\n    twisted round the Body of the Tree, and the rest all joyn'd together\n    lay at length, having broke down the Pales first where the Tree\n    stood, and lay upon the Pales on the Ground, with one End of them,\n    as I said before, round the Body of the Tree.\n    At the same time at _Marson_, in the County of _Warwick_, about 4\n    Miles from this place, a great Rick of Wheat was blown off from its\n    Staddles, and set down without one Sheaf remov'd, or disturb'd, or\n    without standing away 20 Yards from the place.\n    If you have a mind to be farther satisfied in this Matter, let me\n    hear from you, and I will endeavour it: But I am in great hast at\n    this time, which forces me to be confus'd.\n      _I am your Friend_,\n            E. Kingsburgh.\n_The following Account we have from_ Fareham _and_ Christ Church _in_\nHampshire, _which are also well attested_.\n    I received yours, and in Answer these are to acquaint you; That we\n    about us came no ways behind the rest of our Neighbours in that\n    mighty Storm or Hurricane. As for our own Parish, very few Houses or\n    Outhouses escaped. There was in the Parish of _Fareham_ six Barns\n    blown down, with divers other Outhouses, and many Trees blown up by\n    the Roots, and other broken off in the middle; by the fall of a\n    large Elm, a very large Stone Window at the West End of our Church\n    was broken down; there was but two Stacks of Chimneys thrown down in\n    all our Parish that I know of, and those without hurting any Person.\n    There was in a _Coppice_ called _Pupal Coppice_, an Oak Tree, of\n    about a Load of Timber, that was twisted off with the Wind, and the\n    Body that was left standing down to the very Roots so shivered, that\n    if it were cut into Lengths, it would fall all in pieces.\n    Notwithstanding so many Trees, and so much Out-Housing was blown\n    down, I do not hear of one Beast that was killed or hurt. There was\n    on the _Down_ called _Portsdown_, in the Parish of _Southwick_,\n    within three Miles of us, a Wind-Mill was blown down, that had not\n    been up very many Years, with great damage in the said Parish to Mr.\n    _Norton_, by the fall of many Chimneys and Trees. The damage\n    sustained by us in the _Healing_ is such, that we are obliged to\n    make use of Slit Deals to supply the want of Slats and Tyles until\n    Summer come to make some. And so much Thatching wanting, that it\n    cannot be all repaired till after another Harvest. As for Sea\n    Affairs about us, we had but one Vessel abroad at that time, which\n    was one _John Watson_, the Master of which was never heard of yet,\n    and I am afraid never will; I have just reason to lament her Loss,\n    having a great deal of Goods aboard of her. If at any time any\n    particular Relation that is true, come to my knowledge in any\n    convenient time, I will not fail to give you an Account, and at all\n    times remain\n    In Answer to yours, relating to the Damages done by the late Storm\n    in, and about out Town, is, that we had great part of the Roof of\n    our Church uncover'd, which was cover'd with very large\n    Purbick-stone, and the Battlements of the Tower, and part of the\n    Leads blown down, some Stones of a vast weight blown from the\n    Tower, several of them between two or three hundred weight, were\n    blown some Rods or Perches distance from the Church; and 12 Sheets\n    of Lead rouled up together, that 20 Men could not have done the\n    like, to the great Amasement of those that saw 'em: And several\n    Houses and Barns blown down, with many hundreds of Trees of all\n    sorts; several Stacks of Chimneys being blown down, and particularly\n    of one _Thomas Spencer_'s of this Town, who had his Top of a Brick\n    Chimney taken off by the House, and blown a cross a Cart Road, and\n    lighting upon a Barn of _Richard Holloway_'s, broke down the end of\n    the said Barn, and fell upright upon one End, on a Mow of Corn in\n    the Barn; but the said _Spencer_ and his Wife, al-tho' they were\n    then sitting by the Fire, knew nothing thereof until the Morning:\n    And a Stack of Chimneys of one Mr. _Imber_'s fell down upon a young\n    Gentlewoman's Bed, she having but just before got out of the same,\n    and several Outhouses and Stables were blown down, some Cattel\n    killed; and some Wheat-ricks entirely blown off their Stafolds; and\n    lighted on their bottom without any other damage; this is all the\n    Relation I can give you that is Remarkable about us,\n      _I remain your friend and Servant_,\n    At _Ringwood_ and _Fording-Bridge_, several Houses and Trees are\n    blown down, and many more Houses uncovered.\n_From_ Oxford _the following Account was sent, enclosed in the other,\nand are confirm'd by Letters from other Hands_.\n    The inclos'd is a very exact, and I am sure, faithful Account of the\n    Damages done by the late Violent Tempest in _Oxford_. The\n    particulars of my Lord Bishop of _Bath_ and _Wells_, and his Ladies\n    Misfortune are as follows, The Palace is the Relicks of a very old\n    decay'd Castle, only one Corner is new built; and had the Bishop had\n    the good Fortune to have lain in those Apartments that Night, he\n    had sav'd his Life. He perceiv'd the fall before it came, and\n    accordingly jump't out of Bed, and made towards the Door, where he\n    was found with his Brains dash'd out; his Lady perceiving it, wrapt\n    all the Bed-cloaths about her, and in that manner was found\n    smother'd in Bed. This account is Authentick,\n      _I am, Sir, yours_,\n    I give you many thanks for your account from _London_: We were no\n    less terrified in _Oxon_ with the Violence of the Storm, tho' we\n    suffer'd in comparison but little Damage. The most considerable was,\n    a Child kill'd in St. _Giles_'s by the fall of an House; two\n    Pinnacles taken off from the Top of _Magdalen_ Tower, one from\n    _Merton_; about 12 Trees blown down in _Christ_ Church long walk,\n    some of the Battlements from the Body of the Cathedral, and two or\n    three Ranges of Rails on the Top of the great Quadrangle: Part of\n    the great Elm in University Garden was blown off, and a Branch of\n    the Oak in _Magdalen_ walks; the rest of the Colleges scaped\n    tolerably well, and the Schools and Theatre intirely. A very\n    remarkable passage happened at Queen's College, several Sheets of\n    Lead judged near 6000 _l._ weight, were taken off from the Top of\n    Sir _J. Williamson_'s Buildings, and blown against the West-end of\n    St. Peter's Church with such Violence, that they broke an Iron-bar\n    in the Window, making such a prodigious Noise with the fall, that\n    some who heard it, thought the Tower had been falling. The rest of\n    our Losses consisted for the most part in Pinnacles, Chimneys,\n    Trees, Slates, Tiles, Windows, _&c._ amounting in all, according to\n    Computation, to not above 1000 _l._\n_From_ Kingstone-upon-Thames, _the following Letter is very particular,\nand the truth of it may be depended upon_.\n    I have inform'd my self of the following Matters; here was blown\n    down a Stack of Chimneys of Mrs. _Copper_, Widow, which fell on the\n    Bed, on which she lay; but she being just got up, and gone down, she\n    received no harm on her Body: Likewise, here was a Stack of Chimnies\n    of one Mr. _Robert Banford_'s blown down, which fell on a Bed, on\n    which his Son and Daughter lay, he was about 14 years and the\n    Daughter 16; but they likewise were just got down Stairs, and\n    received no harm: A Stack of Chimnies at the _Bull-Inn_ was blown\n    down, and broke way down into the Kitchen, but hurt no Body: Here\n    was a new Brick Malt-House of one Mr. _Francis Best_ blown down, had\n    not been built above two Years, blown off at the second Floor:\n    besides many Barns, and out Houses; and very few Houses in the Town\n    but lost Tiling, some more, some less, and Multitudes of Trees, in\n    particular. 11 Elms of one Mr. _John Bowles_, Shooe-maker: About 30\n    Apple-trees of one _Mr. Peirce_'s: And of one _John Andrew_, a\n    Gardiner, 100 Apple-trees blown to the Ground: One _Walter Kent_,\n    Esq; had about 20 Rod of new Brick-wall of his Garden blown down:\n    One Mr. _Tiringam_, Gentleman, likewise about 10 Rod of new\n    Brick-wall blown down: Mr. _George Cole_, Merchant, had also some\n    Rods of new Brickwall blown down: Also Mr. _Blitha_, Merchant, had\n    all his Walling blown down, and other extraordinary Losses. These\n    are the most considerable Damages done here,\n      _Your humble Servant_,\n_From_ Teuxbury _in_ Gloucestershire, _and from_ Hatfield _in_\nHertfordshire, _the following Letters are sent us from the Ministers of\nthe respective Places._\n    Our Church, tho' a very large one, suffered no great discernable\n    Damage. The Lead Roof, by the force of the Wind was strangely\n    ruffled, but was laid down without any great cost or trouble. Two\n    well-grown Elms, that stood before a sort of Alms-house in the\n    Church-yard had a different Treatment; the one was broken short in\n    the Trunck, and the head turn'd Southward, the other tore up by the\n    Roots, and cast Northward: Divers Chimnies were blown down, to the\n    great Damage and Consternation of the Inhabitants: And one rising in\n    the middle of two Chambers fell so violently, that it broke thro'\n    the Roof and Cieling of the Chamber, and fell by the Bed of Mr.\n    _W.M._ and bruised some part of the Bed-teaster and Furniture; but\n    himself, Wife and Child were signally preserved: An Out-house of Mr.\n    _F.M._ (containing a Stable, Millhouse, and a sort of Barn, judged\n    about 40 Foot in length) standing at the end of our Town, and much\n    expos'd to the Wind, intirely fell, which was the most considerable\n    Damage: Not one of our Town was kill'd, or notably hurt; tho' scarce\n    any but were terribly alarm'd by the dreadful Violence of it, which\n    remitted about five in the Morning: The beautiful Cathedral Church\n    of _Glocester_ suffer'd much; but of that I suppose you will have an\n    account from some proper Hand: This I was willing to signifie to\n    you, in answer to your Letter, not that I think them worthy of a\n    publick Memorial; but the Preservation of _W.M._ his Wife and Child\n    was remarkable,\n      _Your unknown Friend\n           and Servant_,\n      _Teuxbury Jan._ 12. 1703/4.  John Matthews.\n      _Bishop's Hatfield_, Decem. 9. 1703.\n    I perceive by an Advertisement in the _Gazette_ of last _Monday_,\n    that a Relation of some considerable Things which happened in the\n    late Tempest is intended to be printed, which design I believe will\n    be well approved of, that the Memory of it may be perpetuated. I\n    will give you an Account of some of the observable Damages done in\n    this Parish: The Church which was Til'd is so shattered, that the\n    Body of it is entirely to be ripp'd. Two Barns, and a Stable have\n    been blown down; in the latter were 13 Horses, and none of them\n    hurt, tho' there was but one to be seen when the Men first came. I\n    have number'd about 20 large Trees blown down, which stood in the\n    regular Walks in the Park here. It is said, that all the Trees blown\n    down in both the Parks will make above an hundred Stacks of Wood. A\n    Summer-house which stood on the East-side of the Bowling-green at\n    _Hatfield_-House, was blown against the Wall, and broken, and a\n    large part of it carried over the Wall, beyond a Cartway into the\n    plowed Grounds. A great part of the South-wall belonging to one of\n    the Gardens was levelled with the Ground; tho' it was so strong,\n    that great part of it continues cemented, tho' it fell upon a\n    Gravel-walk. Several Things which happened, incline me to think that\n    there was something of an _Hurricane_. Part of the fine painted\n    Glass-window in my Lord _Salisbury_'s Chapel was broken, tho' it\n    looked towards the East. The North-side of an House was untiled\n    several Yards square. In some places the Lead has been raised up,\n    and over one Portal quite blown off. In _Brocket-hall_ Park\n    belonging to Sir _John Reade_, so many Trees are blown down, that\n    lying as they do, they can scarce be numbred, but by a moderate\n    Computation, they are said to amount to above a Thousand. The\n    Damages which this Parish hath sustained, undoubtedly amount to many\n    hundred Pounds, some of the most considerable I have mentioned to\n    you, of which I have been in great Measure an Eye-witness, and have\n    had the rest from Credible Persons, especially the matter of\n    _Brocket-hall_ Park, it being two Miles out of Town, tho' in this\n    Parish. I am,\n      _Sir, Your humble Servant_,\n         George Hemsworth, _M.A._\n      _Curate of_ Bishop's Hatfield, _in Hartfordshire_.\n_The shorter Accounts which have been sent up from almost all parts of_\nEngland, _especially to the South of the_ Trent; _tho' we do not\ntransmit them at large as the abovesaid Letters are, shall be faithfully\nabridg'd for the readier comprising them within the due compass of our\nVolume._\n_From_ Kent _we have many strange Accounts of the Violence of the Storm,\nbesides what relate to the Sea Affairs._\n_At_ Whitstable, _a small Village on the Mouth of the East Swale of the\nRiver_ Medway, _we are inform'd a Boat belonging to a Hoy was taken up\nby the Violence of the Wind, clear off from the Water, and being bourn\nup in the Air, blew turning continually over and over in its progressive\nMotion, till it lodg'd against a rising Ground, above 50 Rod from the\nWater; in the passage it struck a Man, who was in the way, and broke his\nKnee to pieces._\n_We content our selves with relating only the Fact, and giving\nAssurances of the Truth of what we Relate, we leave the needful Remarks\non such Things to another place._\n_At a Town near_ Chartham, _the Lead of the Church rolled up together,\nand blown off from the Church above 20 Rod distance, and being taken up\nafterwards, and weigh'd it, appear'd to weigh above 2600 weight._\n_At_ Brenchly _in the Western Parts of_ Kent, _the Spire of the Steeple\nwhich was of an extraordinary hight was overturn'd; the particulars\nwhereof you have in the following Letter, from the Minister of the\nplace._\n    According to your request, and my promise, for the service of the\n    publick, I have here given you an Account of the Effects of the late\n    Tempestuous Winds in the Parish of _Brenchly_, in the County of\n    _Kent_, as freely and impartially as can be consistent with the\n    Damages sustained thereby, _viz._\n    A stately Steeple, whose Altitude exceeded almost, if not all, in\n    _Kent_, the height whereof, according to various Computations, it\n    never in my knowledge being exactly measured, did amount at least to\n    10 Rods; some say 12, and others more; yet this strong and noble\n    Structure by the Rage of the Winds was levelled with the Ground, and\n    made the sport and pastime of Boys and Girls, who to future Ages,\n    tho' perhaps incredibly, yet can boast they leaped over such a\n    Steeple, the fall thereof beat down great part of the Church and\n    Porch, the damage of which to repair, as before, will not amount to\n    less than 800 or 1000 _l._ This is the publick loss; neither does\n    private and particular much less bemoan their Condition, for some\n    Houses, and some Barns, with other Buildings, are quite demolished;\n    tho' Blessed be God, not many Lives or Limbs lost in the fall, and\n    not one House, but what suffered greatly by the Tempest. Neither\n    were Neighbouring Parishes much more favoured; but especially, a\n    place called _Great Peckham_, whose Steeple also, almost as high as\n    ours, was then blown down, but not so much Damage to the Church,\n    which God preserve safe and sound for ever.\n      _This is the nearest account that can be given, by your unknown\n_As the above Letter mentions the fall of the Spire of_ Great Peckham,\n_we have omitted a particular Letter from the place._\n_In or near_ Hawkhurst _in_ Sussex, _a Waggon standing in a Field loaden\nwith Straw, and bound well down in order to be fetch't away the next\nday, the Wind took the Waggon, drove it backward several Rods, force't\nit through a very thick Hedge into the Road, and the way being dirty,\ndrove it with that force into the Mud or Clay of the Road, that six\nHorses could not pull it out._\n_The Collector of these Accounts cannot but enter the Remarks he made,\nhaving occasion to Traverse the County of_ Kent _about a Month after the\nStorm; and besides, the general Desolation which in every Village gave\nalmost the same prospect; he declares, that he reckoned 1107 dwelling\nHouses, Out-houses and Barns blown quite down, whole Orchards of Fruit\nTrees laid flat upon the Ground, and of all other sorts of Trees such a\nquantity, that tho' he attempted to take an Account of them, he found\n'twas impossible, and was oblig'd to give it over._\n_From_ Monmouth _we have a Letter, that among a vast variety of Ruins,\nin their own Houses and Barns; one whereof fell with a quantity of Sheep\nin it, of which seven were kill'd: The Lead of the great Church, tho' on\nthe side from the Wind, was roll'd up like a roll of Cloth, and blown\noff from the Church._\n_I chose to note this, because the Letter says, it was upon the\nNorth-side of the Church, and which seems to confirm what I have\nobserv'd before, of the Eddies of the Wind, the Operation whereof has\nbeen very strange in several places, and more Violent than the Storm it\nself._\n_At_ Wallingford, _one_ Robert Dowell, _and his Wife, being both in Bed,\nthe Chimney of the House fell in, demolish'd the House, and the main\nBeam breaking fell upon the Bed, the Woman receiv'd but little Damage,\nbut the Man had his Thigh broke by the Beam, and lay in a dangerous\nCondition when the Letter was wrote, which was the 18th of_ January\n_after_.\n_From_ Axminster _in_ Somersetshire _take the following plain, but\nhonest Account._\n    The best account I can give of the Storm in these Parts is as\n    follows: Dr. _Towgood_ had his Court Gate, with a piece of Wall\n    blown to the other side of the Road, and stands upright against the\n    Hedge, which was 12 Foot over, and it was as big as two Horses could\n    draw: A sheet of Lead which lay flat was carried from Sir _William\n    Drake_'s quite over a Wall into the Minister's Court, near\n    three-score Yards: There was a Tree which stood in Mr. _John\n    Whitty_'s Ground which broke in the middle, and the top of it blew\n    over the Hedge, and over a Wall, and over a top of a House, and did\n    not hurt the House: There was a Mow of Corn that was blown off the\n    Posts, and sate upright without hurt, belonging to _William Oliver_,\n    at an Estate of _Edward Seymour_'s, called _Chappel Craft_: A Maiden\n    Oke which stood in the _Quille_ more than a Man could fathom, was\n    broke in the middle: Several hundred of Apple-Trees, and other Trees\n    blown down: Most Houses damnify'd in the Tiles and Thatch, but no\n    Houses blown down, and no Person hurt nor killed; neither did the\n    Church nor Tower, nor the Trees in the Church-yard received much\n    Damage: Our loss in the Apple-Trees is the greatest; because we\n    shall want Liquor to make our Hearts merry; the Farmer's sate them\n    up again, but the Wind has blown them down since the Storm.\n_From_ Hartley _in the County of_ Southampton_, an honest Countryman\nbrought the following Account by way of Certificate, from the Minister\nof the Parish._\n    I the Minister of the abovesaid Parish, in the County of\n    _Southampton_, do hereby Certifie of the several Damages done by the\n    late great Wind in our own, and the Parish adjacent; several\n    dwelling Houses strip'd, and several Barns overturn'd, several Sign\n    Posts blown down, and many Trees, both Timber and Fruit; and\n    particularly my own Dwelling House very much mortify'd, a Chimney\n    fell down, and endanger'd both my own, and Families Lives. I am,\n      _Sir, your humble Servant_,\n_From_ Okingham _in_ Berkshire, _and from_ Bagshot _in_ Surrey, _as\nfollows_.\n    Great damage to the Houses, some Barns down, the Market-house very\n    much shattred, the Clock therein spoiled, several hundreds of Trees\n    torn up by the Roots, most of them Elms, nothing more remarkable\n    than what was usual in other places. It is computed, that the damage\n    amounts to 1000 _l._ And most of the Signs in the Town blown down,\n    and some of the Leads on the Church torn up: Yet by the goodness of\n    God, not one Person killed nor hurt.\n      _Bagshot_ in _Surry_.\n    The Chimneys of the Mannor House, some of them blown down, and 400\n    Pannel of Pales, with some of the Garden Walls blown down, and in\n    and about the Town several great Elms torn up by the Roots, most of\n    the Houses shatter'd, and the tops of Chimneys blown down.\n    _In the Parish_, a great many Chimneys, the tops of them blown down,\n    and the Houses and Barns very much shatter'd, _&c._ the damage in\n    all is supposed about 300 _l._ none killed.\n    This is all the Account I can give you concerning the damage done by\n    the Tempest hereabouts. This is all at present from,\n      _Your Humble Servant_,\n      _Bagshot_,\n_At_ Becles _the Leads of the Church ript up, part of the Great Window\nblown down, and the whole Town exceedingly shatter'd._\n_At_ Ewell _by_ Epsome _in_ Surry, _the Lead from the flat Roof of Mr._\nWilliams'_s House was roll'd up by the Wind, and blown from the top of\nthe House clear over a Brick Wall near 10 Foot high, without damnifying\neither the House or the Wall, the Lead was carried near 6 Rod from the\nHouse; and_ as our Relator says, _was Computed to weigh near 10 Tun.\nThis is Certified by Mr._ George Holdsworth _of_ Epsome, _and sent for\nthe Service of the present Collection, to the Post House at_ London, _to\nwhom we refer for the Truth of the Story._\n_From_ Ely _in the County of_ Cambridge, _we have the following\nRelation; also by a Letter from another Hand, and I the rather Transmit\nthis Letter, because by other hands we had an account, that it was\nexpected the Cathedral or Minster at_ Ely, _being a very Ancient\nBuilding, and Crazy, would not have stood the fury of the Wind, and some\nPeople that lived within the reach of it, had Terrible Apprehensions of\nits falling, some shocks of the Wind gave it such a Motion, that any one\nthat felt it, would have thought it was impossible it should have\nstood._\n    According to your request, I have made it my business to get the\n    exactest and truest account (I am able) of the damages and losses\n    sustain'd on this side the Country, by the late Violent Storm. The\n    Cathedral Church of _Ely_ by the Providence of God did, contrary to\n    all Men's expectations, stand out the shock; but suffered very much\n    in every part of it, especially that which is called the Body of it,\n    the Lead being torn and rent up a considerable way together; about\n    40 lights of Glass blown down, and shatter'd to pieces, one\n    Ornamental Pinacle belonging to the North Isle demolish'd, and the\n    Lead in divers other parts of it blown up into great heaps. Five\n    Chimneys falling down in a place called the Colledge, the place\n    where the Prebendaries Lodgings are, did no other damage (prais'd be\n    God) then beat down some part of the Houses along with them; the\n    loss which the Church and College of _Ely_ sustain'd, being by\n    computation near 2000 _l._ The Sufferers are the Reverend the Dean\n    and Chapter of the said Cathedral. The Wind Mills belonging both to\n    the Town and Country, felt a worse fate, being blown or burnt down\n    by the Violence of the Wind, or else disabled to that degree, that\n    they were wholy unable of answering the design they were made for;\n    three of the aforesaid Mills belonging to one _Jeremiah Fouldsham_\n    of _Ely_, a very Industrious Man of mean Substance, were burnt and\n    blown down, to the almost Ruin and Impoverishment of the aforesaid\n    Person, his particular loss being upward of a 100 _l._ these are the\n    most remarkable disasters that befel this side of the Country. The\n    Inhabitants both of the Town of _Ely_ and Country general, receiv'd\n    some small damages more or less in their Estates and Substance,\n    _viz._ The Houses being stript of the Tiling, Barns and Out-houses\n    laid even with the Ground, and several Stacks of Corn and Cocks of\n    Hay being likewise much damaged, the general loss being about 20000\n    _l._ the escape of all Persons here from Death, being generally\n    miraculous; none as we can hear of being kill'd, tho' some were in\n    more imminent danger than others. This, Sir, is as true, and as\n    faithful an account as we are able to collect.\n_From_ Sudbury _in_ Suffolk_, an honest plain Countryman gives us a\nLetter, in which telling us of a great many Barns blown down, Trees,\nChimneys and Tiles, he tells us in the Close, that their Town fared\nbetter than they expected, but that for all the neighbouring Towns they\nare fearfully shatter'd._\n_From_ Tunbridge, _a Letter to the Post Master, giving the following\nAccount._\n    I cannot give you any great account of the particular damage the\n    late great Winds has done, but at _Penchurst Park_ there was above\n    500 Trees blown down, and the Grove at _Southborough_ is almost\n    blown down; and there is scarce a House in Town, but hath received\n    some damage, and particularly the School-House. A Stack of Chimnies\n    blown down, but no body, God be thanked, have lost their Lives, a\n    great many Houses have suffered very much, and several Barns have\n    been blown down: At _East Peckam_, hard by us, the Spire of the\n    Steeple was blown down: And at Sir _Thomas Twisden_'s in the same\n    Parish, there was a Stable blown down, and 2 Horses killed: And at\n    _Brenchly_ the Spire of the Steeple was blown down; and at _Summer\n    Hill Park_ there were several Trees blown down; which is all at\n    present from,\n      _Your Servant to Command_,\n_At_ Laneloe _in the County of_ Brecon _in_ Wales, _a Poor Woman with a\nChild, was blown away by the Wind, and the Child being about 10 years\nold, was taken up in the Air two or three yards, and very much Wounded\nand Bruised in the fall._\n_At_ Ledbury _in_ Herefordshire, _we have an Account of two Wind Mills\nblown down, and four Stacks of Chimneys in a new built House at a\nVillage near_ Ledbury, _which Wounded a Maid Servant; and at another\nGentleman's House near_ Ledbury, _the Coachman fearing the Stable would\nfall, got his Master's Coach Horses out to save them, but leading them\nby a great Stack of Hay, the Wind blew down the Stack upon the Horses,\nkilled one, and Maimed the other._\n_From_ Medhurst _in_ Sussex, _the following Letter is a short account of\nthe loss of the Lord_ Montacute, _in his Seat there, which is\nextraordinary great, tho' Abridg'd in the Letter_.\n    I received a Letter from you, wherein you desire me to give you an\n    account of what damage was done in and about our Town, I praise God\n    we came off indifferent well; the greatest damage we received, was\n    the untiling of Houses, and 3 Chimneys blown down, but 4 or 5 Stacks\n    of Chimneys are blown down at my Lord _Montacute_'s House, within a\n    quarter of a mile of us, one of them fell on part of the Great Hall,\n    which did considerable damage; and the Church Steeple of _Osborn_,\n    half a mile from us, was blown down at the same time; and my Lord\n    had above 500 Trees torn up by the Roots, and near us several Barns\n    blown down, one of Sir _John Mill_'s, a very large Tiled Barn.\n      Medhurst,      _Your humble Servant_\n_From_ Rigate _the particulars cannot be better related, than in the\nfollowing Letter_\n    In answer to the Letter you sent me, relating to the late great\n    Wind, the Calamity was universal about us, great numbers of vast\n    tall Trees were blown down, and some broken quite asunder in the\n    middle, tho' of a very considerable bigness. Two Wind-mills were\n    blown down, and in one there happened a remarkable Providence, and\n    the Story thereof may perhaps be worth your observation, which is,\n    _viz._ That the Miller of _Charlewood_ Mill, not far from _Rigate_\n    hearing in the night time the Wind blew very hard, arose from his\n    Bed, and went to his Mill, resolving to turn it toward the Wind, and\n    set it to work, as the only means to preserve it standing; but on\n    the way feeling for the Key of the Mill, he found he had left it at\n    his Dwelling House, and therefore returned thither to fetch it, and\n    coming back again to the Mill, found it blown quite down, and by his\n    lucky forgetfulness saved his Life, which otherwise he most\n    inevitably had lost. Several Stacks of Corn and Hay were blown down\n    and shattered a very great distance from the places where they\n    stood. Many Barns were also blown down, and many Stacks of Chimnies;\n    and in the Town and Parish of _Rigate_, scarce a House but suffered\n    considerable damage, either in the Tyling or otherwise. In the\n    Parish of _Capel_ by _Darking_ lived one _Charles Man_, who was in\n    Bed with his Wife and two Children, and by a fall of part of his\n    House, he and one Child were killed, and his Wife, and the other\n    Child, miraculously preserved, I am\n    Rigate,     _Sir, Your humble Servant_,\n_From the City of_ Hereford, _this short Letter is very explicit._\n    The best account I can give of the Storm, is as follows; a Man and\n    his Son was killed with the fall of his House, in the Parish of\n    _Wormsle_, 2 miles off _Webly_ in _Herefordshire_. My Lord\n    _Skudamoor_ had several great Oaks blown down in the Parish of\n    _Hom_, 4 miles from _Hereford_; there were several great Elms blown\n    down at a place called _Hinton_, on _Wye_ side, half a mile off\n    _Hereford_, and some hundreds of Fruit Trees in other Parts of this\n    County, and two Stacks of Chimnies in this City, and abundance of\n    Tiles off the old Houses,\n_At_ Hawkhurst, _on the Edge of_ Sussex _and_ Kent, _11 Barnes were\nblown down, besides the Houses Shatter'd or Uncover'd._\n_From_ Basingstoke _in_ Hampshire, _the following Letter is our\nAuthority for the Particulars_.\n    I cannot pretend to give you a particular account concerning the\n    great Wind, but here are a great many Houses blown down, many Barns,\n    and abundance of Trees. A little Park, three Miles from _Basing\n    Stoke_, belonging to Esq. _Waleps_ has a great quantity of Timber\n    blown down, there is 800 _l_'s worth of Oak sold, and 800 _l_'s\n    worth of other Trees to be sold, and so proportionably all over the\n    Country. Abundance of Houses until'd, and a great many Chimneys\n    blown down; but I do not hear of any body kill'd about us. Most of\n    the People were in great Fears and Consternation; insomuch, that\n    they thought the World had been at an end. Sir,\n      _Yours to Command_\nAt _Shoram_ the Market House, an Antient and very strong building, was\nblown flat to the Ground, and all the Town shatter'd. _Brighthelmston_\nbeing an old built and poor, tho' populous Town, was most miserably\ntorn to pieces, and made the very Picture of Desolation, that it lookt\nas if an Enemy had Sackt it.\n_The following Letter from a small Town near_ Helford _in_ Cornwall _is\nvery Authentick, and may be depended on_.\n    According to your Request, in a late Advertisement, in which you\n    desir'd an Impartial Account of what Accidents hapned by the late\n    Dreadful Storm, in order to make a true and just Collection of the\n    same, please to take the following Relation, _viz._ Between 8 and\n    9-a-Clock the Storm began, with the Wind at N.W. about 10-a-Clock\n    it veer'd about from W. to S.W. and back to West again, and between\n    11 and 12-a-Clock it blew in a most violent and dreadful manner,\n    that the Country hereabouts thought the great day of Judgment was\n    coming.\n    It continued thus blowing till 5-a-Clock and then began to abate a\n    little, but has done a Prodigious damage to almost all sorts of\n    People, for either their Houses are blown down, or their Corn blown\n    out of their tack-yards (some Furlongs distance) from the same that\n    the very fields look in a manner, as if they had shak'd the Sheaves\n    of Corn over them. Several Barns blown down, and the Corn that was\n    in the same carried clear away.\n    The Churches here abouts have suffered very much, the Roofs of\n    several are torn in pieces, and blown a considerable Distance off.\n    The small Quantity of Fruit-Trees we had in the Neighbourhood about\n    us are so dismember'd, and torn in pieces, that few or none are left\n    fit for bearing Fruit.\n    The large Timber Trees, as Elm, Oak, and the like, are generally\n    blown down, especially the largest and highest Trees suffered most;\n    for few Gentlemen that had Trees about their Houses have any left;\n    and it is generally observ'd here, that the Trees and Houses that\n    stood in Valleys, and most out of the Wind, have suffered most. In\n    short, the Damage has been so general, that both Rich and Poor have\n    suffered much.\n    In _Helford_, a small Haven, not far from hence, there was a Tin\n    Ship blown from her Anchors with only one Man, and two Boys on\n    Board, without Anchor, Cable or Boat, and was forc'd out of the\n    said Haven about 12-a-Clock at Night; the next Morning by 8-a-Clock,\n    the Ship miraculously Run in between two Rocks in the _Isle of\n    Wight_, where the Men and Goods were saved, but the Ship lost: Such\n    a Run, in so short a time, is almost Incredible, it being near 80\n    Leagues in 8 hours time, I believe it to be very true, for the\n    Master of the said Ship I know very well, and some that were\n    concern'd in her Lading, which was Tin, &c.\n      _From St._ Keaverne _Parish in_ Cornwall,\n    _Thus far our Letters_.\nIt has been impossible to give an exact relation in the matter of\npublick Damage, either as to the particulars of what is remarkeable, or\nan Estimate of the general loss.\nThe Abstract here given, as near as we could order it, is so well taken,\nthat we have, _generally speaking_, something remarkable from every\nquarter of the Kingdom, to the South of the _Trent_.\nIt has been observ'd, that tho' it blew a great Storm farther Northward,\nyet nothing so furious as this way. At _Hull_, indeed, as the Relation\nExpresses, it was violent, but even that violence was moderate, compar'd\nto the Stupendious fury with which all the Southern part of the Nation\nwas Attack'd.\nWhen the Reader finds an Account here from _Milford-haven_ in _Wales_,\nand from _Helford_ in _Cornwall_ West, from _Yarmouth_ and _Deal_ in the\nEast, from _Portsmouth_ in the South, and _Hull_ in the North, I am not\nto imagine him so weak as to suppose all the vast Interval had not the\nsame, or proportion'd suffering, when you find one Letter from a Town,\nand two from a County, it is not to be supposed that was the whole\ndamage in that County, but, on the contrary, that every Town in the\nCounty suffered the same thing in proportion; and it would have been\nendless to the Collector, and tiresom to the Reader, to have Enumerated\nall the Individuals of every County; 'twould be endless to tell the the\nDesolation in the Parks, Groves, and fine Walks of the Gentry, the\ngeneral havock in the Orchards and Gardens among the Fruit Trees,\nespecially in the Counties of _Devon_, _Somerset_, _Hereford_,\n_Gloucester_ and _Worcester_, where the making great quantities of Cyder\nand Perry, is the reason of numerous and large Orchards, among which,\nfor several Miles together, there would be very few Trees left.\nIn _Kent_ the Editor of this Book has seen several great Orchards, the\nTrees lying flat on the Ground, and perhaps one Tree standing in a place\nby it self, as a House might shelter it, perhaps none at all.\nSo many Trees were every where blown cross the Road, that till the\nPeople were call'd to saw them off, and remove them, the ways were not\npassable.\nStacks of Corn and Hay were in all places either blown down, or so torn,\nthat they receiv'd great damage, and in this Article 'tis very\nobservable, those which were only blown down receiv'd the least Injury;\nwhen the main body of a Stack of Hay stood safe, the top being loosen'd\nby the Violence of the Wind, the Hay was driven up into the Air, and\nflew about like Feathers; that it was entirely lost and hung about in\nthe Neighbouring Trees, and spread on the Ground for a great distance\nand so perfectly seperated, that there was no gathering it together.\nBarly and Oats suffered the same casualty, only that the weight of the\nCorn settled it sooner to the Ground than the Hay.\nAs to the Stacks of Wheat, the Accounts are very strange; from many\nplaces we have Letters, and some so incredible, that we dare not venture\non the Readers faith to transmit them, least they should shock their\nbelief in those very strange Relations already set down, and better\nAttested, as of a great Stack of Corn taken from the Hovel on which it\nstood, and without Dislocating the Sheaves, set upon another Hovel, from\nwhence the Wind had just before remov'd another Stack of equal\nDimensions; of a Stack of Wheat taken up with the Wind, and set down\nwhole 16 Rod off, and the like. But as we have other Relations equally\nstrange, their Truth considered, we refer the Reader to them, and assure\nthe World we have several Accounts of Stacks of Wheat taken clear off\nfrom the Frame or Steddal, and set down whole, abundance more over-set,\nand thrown off from their standings, and others quite dispers'd, and in\na great measure destroy'd.\n'Tis true, Corn was exceeding cheap all the Winter after, but they who\nbring that as a reason to prove there was no great quantity destroy'd,\nare oblig'd to bear with me in telling them they are mistaken, for the\ntrue reason was as follows,\nThe Stacks of Corn in some Counties, the West chiefly, where the People\ngenerally lay up their Corn in Stacks, being so damnify'd as above, and\nthe Barns in all parts being Universally uncovered, and a vast number of\nthem overturn'd, and blown down, the Country People were under a\nnecessity of Threshing out their Corn with all possible speed, least if\na Rain had follow'd, as at that time of Year was not unlikely, it might\nha' been all spoil'd.\nAnd it was a special Providence to those People also, as well as to us\nin _London_; that it did not Rain, at least to any quantity, for near\nthree Weeks after the Storm.\nBesides this, the Country People were obliged to thresh out their Corn\nfor the sake of the Straw, which they wanted to repair the Thatch, and\ncovering of their Barns, in order to secure the rest.\nAll these Circumstances forc'd the Corn to Market in unusual quantities,\nand that by Consequence made it Cheaper than ordinary, and not the\nexceeding quantity then in Store.\nThe Seats of the Gentlemen in all places had an extraordinary share in\nthe Damage; their Parks were in many places perfectly dismantled, the\nTrees before their Doors levelled, their Garden Walls blown down, and I\ncould give a List, I believe, of a thousand Seats in _England_, within\nthe compass of our Collected Papers, who had from 5 to 20 Stacks of\nChimnies blown down, some more, some less, according to the several\nDimentions of the Houses.\nI am not obliging the Reader to comply with the Calculations here\nfollowing, and it would have took up too much room in this small Tract\nto name particulars; but according to the best estimate I have been able\nto make from the general Accounts sent up by Persons forward to have\nthis matter recorded, the following particulars are rather under than\nover the real Truth.\n25 Parks in the several Counties, who have above 1000 Trees in each\nPark, blown down.\n_New Forest_ in _Hampshire_ above 4000, and some of prodigious Bigness;\nabove 450 Parks and Groves, who have from 200 large Trees to 1000 blown\ndown in them.\nAbove 100 Churches covered with Lead, the Lead roll'd up, the Churches\nuncover'd; and on some of them, the Lead in prodigious Quantities blown\nto incredible Distances from the Church.\nAbove 400 Wind-mils overset, and broken to pieces; or the Sails so blown\nround, that the Timbers and Wheels have heat and set the rest on Fire,\nand so burnt them down, as particularly several were in the Isle of\n_Ely_.\nSeven Steeples quite blown down, besides abundance of Pinacles and\nBattlements from those which stood; and the Churches where it happened\nmost of them Demolish'd, or terribly Shattered.\nAbove 800 dwelling Houses blown down, in most of which the Inhabitants\nreceived some Bruise or Wounds, and many lost their Lives.\nWe have reckoned, including the City of _London_, about 123 People\nkill'd; besides such as we have had no account of; the Number of People\ndrowned are not easily Guest; but by all the Calculations I have made\nand seen made, we are within compass, if we reckon 8000 Men lost,\nincluding what were lost on the Coast of _Holland_, what in Ships blown\naway, and never heard of, and what were drowned in the Flood of the\n_Severn_, and in the River of _Thames_.\nWhat the Loss, how many poor Families ruin'd, is not to be Estimated,\nthe Fire of _London_ was an exceeding Loss, and was by some reckon'd at\nfour Millions sterling; which, tho' it was a great Loss, and happened\nupon the spot, where vast Quantities of Goods being expos'd to the fury\nof the Flames, were destroy'd in a hurry, and 14000 dwelling Houses\nentirely consum'd.\nYet on the other Hand, that Desolation was confin'd to a small Space,\nthe loss fell on the wealthiest part of the People; but this loss is\nUniversal, and its extent general, not a House, not a Family that had\nany thing to lose, but have lost something by this Storm, the Sea, the\nLand, the Houses, the Churches, the Corn, the Trees, the Rivers, all\nhave felt the fury of the Winds.\nI cannot therefore think I speak too large, if I say, I am of the\nOpinion, that the Damage done by this Tempest far exceeded the Fire of\n_London_.\nThey tell us the Damages done by the Tide, on the Banks of the _Severn_,\namounts to above 200000 pounds, 15000 Sheep drown'd in one Level,\nMultitudes of Cattle on all the sides, and the covering the Lands with\nSalt Water is a Damage cannot well be Estimated: The High Tide at\n_Bristol_ spoil'd or damnify'd 1500 Hogsheds of Sugars and Tobaccoes,\nbesides great quantities of other Goods.\n'Tis impossible to describe the general Calamity, and the most we can do\nis, to lead our Reader to supply by his Immagination what we omit; and\nto believe, that as the Head of the particulars is thus collected, an\ninfinite Variety at the same time happened in every place, which cannot\nbe expected to be found in this Relation.\nThere are some additional Remarks to be made as to this Tempests, which\nI cannot think improper to come in here: As,\n1. That in some Parts of _England_ it was join'd with terrible\nLightnings and Flashings of Fire, and in other places none at all; as to\nThunder the Noise the Wind made, was so Terrible, and so Unusual, that I\nwill not say, People might not mistake it for Thunder; but I have not\nmet with any, who will be positive that they heard it Thunder.\n2. Others, as in many Letters we have received to that purpose insist\nupon it, that they felt an Earthquake; and this I am doubtful of for\nseveral Reasons.\n1st. We find few People either in City or Country ventur'd out of their\nHouses, or at least till they were forced out, and I cannot find any\nVoucher to this opinion of an Earthquake, from those whose Feet stood\nupon the _Terra Firma_, felt it move, and will affirm it to be so.\n2d. As to all those People who were in Houses, I cannot allow them to be\ncompetent Judges, for as no House was so strong as not to move and\nshake with the force of the Wind, so it must be impossible for them to\ndistinguish whither that motion came from above or below: As to those in\nShips, they will not pretend to be competent Judges in this case, and I\nthink the People within doors as improper to decide, for what might not\nthat motion they felt in their Houses, from the Wind do, that an\nEarthquake could do. We found it rockt the strongest Buildings, and in\nseveral places made the Bells in the Steeples strike, loosen'd the\nFoundations of the Houses, and in some below them quite down, but still\nif it had been an Earthquake, it must have been felt in every house, and\nevery place; and whereas in those Streets of _London_, where the Houses\nstand thick and well Built, they could not be so shaken with the Wind as\nin opener places; yet there the other would have equally been felt, and\nbetter distinguisht; and this particularly by the Watch, who stood on\nthe Ground, under shelter of publick Buildings, as in St. _Paul_'s\nChurch, the Exchange Gates, the Gates of the City, and such like;\nwherefore, as I am not for handing to Posterity any matter of Fact upon\nill Evidence, so I cannot transmit what has its Foundation only in the\nAmazements of the People.\n'Tis true, that there was an Earthquake felt in the _North East parts of\nthe Kingdoms_, about a Month afterwards, of which several Letters here\ninserted make mention, and one very particularly from _Hull_; but that\nthere was any such thing as an Earthquake during the Storm, I cannot\nagree.\nAnother remarkable thing I have observ'd, and have several Letters to\nshow of the Water which fell in the Storm, being brackish, and at\n_Cranbrook_ in _Kent_, which is at least 16 Miles from the Sea, and\nabove 25 from any Part of the Sea to windward, from whence the Wind\ncould bring any moisture, _for it could not be suppos'd to fly against\nthe Wind_; the Grass was so salt, the Cattel would not eat for several\nDays, from whence the ignorant People suggested another Miracle, _viz._\nthat it rain'd salt Water.\nThe answer to this, I leave to two Letters printed in the _Philosophical\nTransactions_; as follows,\n_Part of a Letter from Mr._ Denham _to the Royal Society_,\n    I have just now, since my writing, receiv'd an account from a\n    Clergy-man, an Intelligent Person at _Lewes_ in _Sussex_, not only\n    that the Storm made great desolations thereabouts, but also an odd\n    Ph\u00e6nomenon occasioned by it, _viz._ 'That a Physician travelling\n    soon after the Storm to _Tisehyrst_, about 20 Miles from _Lewes_,\n    and as far from the Sea, as he rode he pluckt some tops of Hedges,\n    and chawing them found them Salt. Some Ladies of _Lewes_ hearing\n    this, tasted some Grapes that were still on the Vines, and they also\n    had the same relish. The Grass on the Downs in his Parish was so\n    salt, that the Sheep in the Morning would not feed till hunger\n    compelled them, and afterwards drank like Fishes, as the Shepherds\n    report. This he attributeth to Saline Particles driven from the\n    Sea.--He heareth also, that People about _Portsmouth_ were much\n    annoyed with sulphurous Fumes, complaining they were most suffocated\n    therewith'.\nV. _Part of a Letter from Mr._ Anthony van Lauwenhoek, _F.R.S. giving\nhis Observations on the late Storm_.\n    I affirmed in my Letter of the 3d of _November_ last past, that\n    Water may be so dash'd and beaten against the Banks and Dikes by a\n    strong Wind, and divided into such small Particles, as to be carried\n    far up into the Land.\n    Upon the 8th of _December_, 1703. N.S. We had a dreadful Storm from\n    the South West, insomuch, that the Water mingled with small parts of\n    Chalk and Stone, was so dasht against the Glass-windows, that many\n    of them were darkned therewith, and the lower Windows of my House,\n    which are made of very fine Glass, and always kept well scower'd,\n    and were not open'd till 8-a-Clock that Morning, notwithstanding\n    that they look to the North East, and consequently stood from the\n    Wind; and moreover, were guarded from the Rain by a kind of Shelf or\n    Pent-house over them; were yet so cover'd with the Particles of the\n    Water which the Whirl-wind cast against them, that in less than\n    half an hour they were deprived of most of their transparency, and,\n    forasmuch as these Particles of Water were not quite exhaled, I\n    concluded that it must be Sea-water, which the said Storm had not\n    only dasht against our Windows, but spread also over the whole\n    Country.\n    That I might be satisfied herein, I blow'd two small Glasses, such\n    as I thought most proper to make my Observations with, concerning\n    the Particles of Water that adhered to my Windows.\n    Pressing these Glasses gently against my Windows, that were covered\n    with the suppos'd Particles of Sea-water, my Glasses were tinged\n    with a few of the said Particles.\n    These Glasses, with the Water I had thus collected on them, I placed\n    at about half a Foot distance from the Candle, I view'd them by my\n    Microscope, reck'ning, that by the warmth of the Candle, and my Face\n    together, the Particles of the said Water would be put into such a\n    motion, that they would exhale for the most part, and the Salts that\n    were in 'em would be expos'd naked to the sight, and so it happened;\n    for in a little time a great many Salt Particles did, as it were,\n    come out of the Water, having the Figure of our common Salt, but\n    very small, because the Water was little, from whence those small\n    Particles proceeded; and where the Water had lain very thin upon the\n    Glass, there were indeed a great number of Salt Particles, but so\n    exceeding fine, that they almost escaped the Sight through a very\n    good Microscope.\n    From whence I concluded, that these Glass windows could not be\n    brought to their former Lustre, but by washing them with a great\n    deal of Water; for if the Air were very clear, and the Weather dry,\n    the watry Particles would soon exhale, but the Salts would cleave\n    fast to the Glass, which said Salts would be again dissolv'd in\n    moist Weather, and sit like a Dew or Mist upon the Windows.\n    And accordingly my People found it when they came to wash the\n    afore-mentioned lower Windows of my House: but as to the upper\n    Windows, where the Rain had beat against them, there was little or\n    no Salt to be found sticking upon that Glass.\n    Now, if we consider, what a quantity of Sea-water is spread all over\n    the Country by such a terrible Storm, and consequently, how greatly\n    impregnated the Air is with the same; we ought not to wonder, that\n    such a quantity of Water, being moved with so great a force, should\n    do so much mischief to Chimneys, tops of Houses, _&c._ not to\n    mention the Damages at Sea.\n    During the said Storm, and about 8-a-Clock in the Morning, I cast my\n    Eye upon my Barometer, and observ'd, that I had never seen the\n    Quick-silver so low; but half an hour after the Quick-silver began\n    to rise, tho' the Storm was not at all abated, at least to any\n    appearance; from whence I concluded, and said it to those that were\n    about me, that the Storm would not last long; and so it happened.\n    There are some that affirm, that the scattering of this Salt-water\n    by the Storm will do a great deal of harm to the Fruits of the\n    Earth; but for my part I am of a quite different Opinion, for I\n    believe that a little Salt spread over the surface of the Earth,\n    especially where it is heavy Clay-ground, does render it exceeding\n    Fruitful; and so it would be, if the Sand out of the Sea were made\n    use of to the same purpose.\nThese Letters are too well, and too judiciously Written to need any\ncomment of mine; 'tis plain, the watry Particles taken up from the Sprye\nof the Sea into the Air, might by the impetuosity of the Winds be\ncarried a great way, and if it had been much farther, it would have been\nno Miracle in my account; and this is the reason, why I have not related\nthese Things, among the extraordinary Articles of the Storm.\nThat the Air was full of Meteors, and fiery Vapours, and that the\nextraordinary Motion occasion'd the firing more of them than usual, a\nsmall stock of Philosophy will make very rational; and of these we have\nvarious Accounts, more in some places than in others, and I am apt to\nbelieve these were the Lightnings we have been told of; for I am of\nOpinion, that there was really no Lightning, such as we call so in the\ncommon Acceptation of it; for the Clouds that flew with so much Violence\nthrough the Air, were not, as to my Observation, such as usually are\nfraighted with Thunder and Lightning, the Hurries nature was then in, do\nnot consist with the System of Thunder, which is Air pent in between the\nClouds; and as for the Clouds that were seen here flying in the Air,\nthey were by the fury of the Winds so seperated, and in such small\nBodies, that there was no room for a Collection suitable, and necessary\nto the Case we speak of.\nThese Cautions I thought necessary to set down here, for the\nsatisfaction of the Curious; and as they are only my Opinions, I submit\nthem to the judgment of the Reader.\n_Of the Damages on the Water_\nAs this might consist of several Parts, I was inclin'd to have divided\nit into Sections or Chapters, relating particularly to the publick Loss,\nand the private; to the Merchant, or the Navy, to Floods by the Tides,\nto the River Damage, and that of the Sea; but for brevity, I shall\nconfine it to the following particulars.\n    First, _The Damage to Trade_.\n    Secondly, _The Damage to the Royal Navy_.\n    Thirdly, _The Damage by High Tides_.\nFirst, _of the Damage to Trade_.\nI might call it a Damage to Trade, that this Season was both for some\ntime before and after the Tempest, so exceeding, and so continually\nStormy, that the Seas were in a manner Unnavigable and Negoce, at a kind\nof a general Stop, and when the Storm was over, and the Weather began to\nbe tolerable; almost all the Shipping in _England_ was more or less out\nof Repair, for there was very little Shipping in the Nation, but what\nhad receiv'd some Damage or other.\nIt is impossible, but a Nation so full of Shipping as this, must be\nexceeding Sufferers in such a general Disaster, and who ever considers\nthe Violence of this Storm by its other dreadful Effects will rather\nwonder, and be thankful that we receiv'd no farther Damage, than we\nshall be able to give an Account of by Sea.\nI have already observ'd what Fleets were in the several Ports of this\nNation, and from whence they came: As to Ships lost of whom we have no\nother Account than that they were never heard of. I am not able to give\nany Perticulars, other than that about three and forty Sail of all Sorts\nare reckon'd to have perished in that manner. I mean of such Ships as\nwere at Sea, when the Storm began, and had no Shelter or Port to make\nfor their Safety: Of these, some were of the _Russia_ Fleet, of whom we\nhad an Account of 20 Sail lost the Week before the great Storm, but most\nof them reach'd the Ports of _Newcastle_, _Humber_ and _Yarmouth_, and\nsome of the Men suffered in the general Distress afterwards.\nBut to proceed to the most general Disasters, by the same Method, as in\nthe former Articles of Damages by Land. Several Persons having given\nthemselves the Trouble to further this Design with Authentick\nParticulars from the respective Ports. I conceive we cannot give the\nWorld a clearer and more Satisfactory Relation than from their own\nWords.\n_The first Account, and plac'd so, because 'tis very Authentick and\nParticular, and the furthest Port_ Westward, _and therefore proper to\nbegin our Relation, is from on Board her Majesty's Ship the_ Dolphin\n_in_ Milford Haven, _and sent to us by Capt_. Soanes, _the Commodore of\na Squadron of Men of War then in that Harbour, to whom the Public is\nvery much oblig'd for the Relation, and which we thought our selves\nbound there to acknowledge. The Account is as follows_,\n    Reading the Advertisement in the _Gazette_, of your intending to\n    Print the many sad Accidents in the late dreadful Storm, induced me\n    to let you know what this place felt, tho a very good Harbour. Her\n    Majesty's Ships the _Cumberland_, _Coventry_, _Loo_, _Hastings_ and\n    _Hector_, being under my Command, with the _Rye_ a Cruizer on this\n    Station, and under our Convoy about 130 Merchant Ships bound about\n    Land; the 26th of _November_ at one in the Afternoon the Wind came\n    at S. by E. a hard Gale, between which and N.W. by W. it came to a\n    dreadful Storm, at three the next Morning was the Violentest of the\n    Weather, when the _Cumberland_ broak her Sheet Anchor, the Ship\n    driving near _this_, and the _Rye_, both narrowly escap'd carrying\n    away; she drove very near the Rocks, having but one Anchor left,\n    but in a little time they slung a Gun, with the broken Anchor fast\n    to it, which they let go, and wonderfully preserv'd the Ship from\n    the Shoar. Guns firing from one Ship or other all the Night for\n    help, tho' 'twas impossible to assist each other, the Sea was so\n    high, and the Darkness of the Night such, that we could not see\n    where any one was, but by the Flashes of the Guns; when day light\n    appear'd, it was a dismal sight to behold the Ships driving up and\n    down one foul of another, without Masts, some sunk, and others upon\n    the Rocks, the Wind blowing so hard, with Thunder, Lightning and\n    Rain, that on the Deck a Man could not stand without holding. Some\n    drove from _Dale_, where they were shelter'd under the Land, and\n    split in pieces, the Men all drowned; two others drove out of a\n    Creek, one on the Shoar so high up was saved, the other on the Rocks\n    in another Creek, and Bulg'd; an _Irish_ Ship that lay with a Rock\n    thro' her, was lifted by the Sea clear away to the other side of the\n    Creek on a safe place; one Ship forc'd 10 Miles up the River before\n    she could be stop'd, and several strangely blown into holes, and on\n    Banks; a Ketch of _Pembroke_ was drove on the Rocks, the two Men and\n    a Boy in her had no Boat to save their Lives; but in this great\n    distress a Boat which broke from another Ship drove by them, without\n    any in her, the two Men leap into her, and were sav'd, but the Boy\n    drown'd; a Prize at _Pembroke_ was lifted on the Bridge, whereon is\n    a Mill, which the Water blew up, but the Vessel got off again;\n    another Vessel carried almost into the Gateway which leads to the\n    Bridge, and is a Road, the Tide flowing several Foot above its\n    common Course. The Storm continu'd till the 27th about 3 in the\n    Afternoon; that by Computation nigh 30 Merchant Ships and Vessels\n    without Masts are lost, and what Men are lost is not known; 3 Ships\n    are missing, that we suppose Men and all lost. None of her Majesty's\n    Ships came to any harm; but the _Cumberland_ breaking her Anchor in\n    a Storm which happen'd the 18th at Night, lost another, which\n    renders her uncapable of proceeding with us till supply'd. I saw\n    several Trees and Houses which are blown down.\n      _Your Humble Servant_,\n_The next Account we have from the Reverend Mr._ Tho. Chest, _Minister\nof_ Chepstow, _whose Ingenious account being given in his own Words,\ngives the best Acknowledgement for his forwarding and approving this\ndesign._\n    Upon the Evening of _Friday, Nov._ 26. 1703, the Wind was very high;\n    but about midnight it broke out with a more than wonted Violence,\n    and so continued till near break of day. It ended a N.W. Wind, tho'\n    about 3 in the Morning it was at S.W. The loudest cracks I observed\n    of it, were somewhat before 4 of the Clock; we had here the common\n    Calamity of Houses shatter'd and Trees thrown down.\n    But the Wind throwing the Tyde very strongly into the _Severn_, and\n    so into the _Wye_, on which _Chepstow_ is situated. And the Fresh in\n    _Wye_ meeting with a Rampant Tyde, overflowed the lower part of our\n    Town. It came into several Houses about 4 foot high, rather more;\n    the greatest damage sustained in Houses, was by the makers of Salt,\n    perhaps their loss might amount to near 200 _l._\n    But the Bridge was a strange sight; it stands partly in\n    _Monmouthshire_, and partly in _Gloucestershire_, and is built\n    mostly of Wood, with a Stone Peer in the midst, the Center of which\n    divides the two Counties; there are also Stone Platforms in the\n    bottom of the River to bear the Wood-work. I doubt not but those\n    Stone Platforms were covered then by the great Fresh that came down\n    the River. But over these there are Wooden Standards fram'd into\n    Peers 42 Foot high; besides Groundsils, Cap-heads, Sleepers, Planks,\n    and (on each side of the Bridge) Rails which may make about 6 foot\n    more, the Tyde came over them all: The length of the Wooden part of\n    the Bridge in _Monmouthshire_ is 60 yards exactly, and thereabout in\n    _Gloucestershire_; the _Gloucestershire_ side suffered but little,\n    but in _Monmouthshire_ side the Planks were most of them carried\n    away, the Sleepers (about a Tun by measure each) were many of them\n    carried away, and several removed, and 'tis not doubted but the\n    great Wooden Peers would have gone too; but it was so, that the\n    outward Sleepers on each side the Bridge were Pinn'd or Bolted to\n    the Cap-heads, and so kept them in their places.\n    All the level Land on the South part of _Monmouthshire_, called the\n    _Moors_, was overflow'd; it is a tract of Land about 20 miles long,\n    all Level, save 2 little points of High-land, or 3; the Breadth of\n    it is not all of one size, the broadest part is about 2 miles and \u00bd.\n    This Tyde came 5 Tydes before the top of the Spring, according to\n    the usual run, which surprized the People very much. Many of their\n    Cattle got to shore, and some dy'd after they were landed. It is\n    thought by a _Moderate Computation_, they might lose in Hay and\n    Cattle between 3 and 4000 _l._ I cannot hear of any Person drowned,\n    save only one Servant Man, that ventur'd in quest of his Master's\n    Cattle. The People were carried off, some by Boats, some otherways,\n    the days following; the last that came off (that I can hear of) were\n    on _Tuesday_ Evening, to be sure they were uneasy and astonished in\n    that Interval. There are various reports about the height of this\n    Tyde in the _Moors_, comparing it with that in _Jan._ 1606. But the\n    account that seems likeliest to me, is, that the former Tyde ran\n    somewhat higher than this. 'Tis thought most of their Land will be\n    worth but little these 2 or 3 years, and 'tis known, that the\n    repairing the Sea Walls will be very chargeable.\n    _Gloucestershire_ too, that borders upon _Severne_ hath suffered\n    deeply on the Forrest of _Deane_ side, but nothing in comparison of\n    the other shore, from about _Harlingham_ down to the mouth of\n    _Bristol_ River _Avon_, particularly from _Aust Cliffe_ to the\n    Rivers Mouth (about 8 miles) all that Flat, called the _Marsh_ was\n    drowned. They lost many Sheep and Cattle. About 70 Seamen were\n    drown'd out of the _Canterbury_ Storeship, and other Ships that were\n    Stranded or Wreck'd. The _Arundel_ Man of War, _Suffolk_ and\n    _Canterbury_ Storeships, a _French_ Prize, and a _Dane_, were driven\n    ashore and damnified; but the _Arundel_ and the _Danish_ Ship are\n    got off, the rest remain on Ground. The _Richard and John_ of about\n    500 Tun, newly come into _King-road_ from _Virginia_, was Staved.\n    The _Shoram_ rode it out in _King-road_; but I suppose you may have\n    a perfecter account of these things from _Bristol_. But one thing\n    yet is to be remembred, one _Nelms_ of that Country, as I hear his\n    Name, was carried away with his Wife and 4 Children, and House and\n    all, and were all lost, save only one Girl, who caught hold of a\n    Bough, and was preserved.\n    There was another unfortunate Accident yet in these parts, one Mr.\n    _Churchman_, that keeps the Inns at _Betesley_, a passage over the\n    _Severn_, and had a share in the passing Boats, seeing a single Man\n    tossed in a Wood-buss off in the River, prevailed with some\n    belonging to the Customs, to carry himself and one of his Sons, and\n    2 Servants aboard the Boat, which they did, and the Officers desired\n    Mr. _Churchman_ to take out the Man, and come ashore with them in\n    their Pinnace. But he, willing to save the Boat as well as the Man,\n    tarried aboard, and sometime after hoisting Sail, the Boat overset,\n    and they were all drowned, _viz._ the Man in the Boat, Mr.\n    _Churchman_, his Son and 2 Servants, and much lamented, especially\n    Mr. _Churchman_, and his Son, who were Persons very useful in their\n    Neighbourhood. This happened on _Saturday_ about 11 of the Clock.\n      _Your Humble Servant_,\n_Mr._ Tho. Little _Minister of_ ---- Church _in_ Lyn, _in the County of_\nNorfolk, _being requested to give in the particulars of what happen'd\nthereabouts, gave the following, short but very pertinent Account_.\n    I had answer'd yours sooner, but that I was willing to get the best\n    Information I could of the effect of the late dismal Storm amongst\n    us. I have advis'd with our Merchants, and Ship Masters, and find\n    that we have lost from this Port 7 Ships, the damage whereof, at a\n    modest Computation, amounts to 3000 _l._ the Men that perish'd in\n    them are reckon'd about 20 in number. There is another Ship missing,\n    tho we are not without hopes that she is gone Northward, the value\n    of Ship and Cargo about 1500 _l._\n    The Damage sustain'd in the Buildings of the Town is computed at\n      _I am your faithful Friend and Servant._\n_We have had various Accounts from_ Bristol, _but as they all contain\nsomething of the Same in general, only differently Exprest, the\nfollowing, as the most positively asserted, and best Exprest, is\nrecorded for the publick Information._\n    Observing your desire (lately signify'd in the _Gazette_) to be\n    further inform'd concerning the Effects of the late dreadful\n    Tempest, in order to make a Collection thereof. I have presum'd to\n    present you with the following particulars concerning _Bristol_, and\n    the parts near Adjacent, being an Eye-witness of the same, or the\n    Majority of it. On _Saturday_ the 27th of _Novemb._ last, between\n    the hours of one and two in the Morning, arose a most prodigious\n    Storm of Wind, which continued with very little intermission for the\n    space of 6 hours, in which time it very much shattered the\n    Buildings, both publick and private, by uncovering the Houses,\n    throwing down the Chimneys, breaking the Glass Windows, overthrowing\n    the Pinnacles and Battlements of the Churches, and blowing off the\n    Leads: The Churches in particular felt the fury of the Storm. St.\n    _Stephen_'s Tower had three Pinnacles blown off, which beat down the\n    greatest part of the Church. The Cathedral is likewise very much\n    defac'd, two of its Windows, and several Battlements being blown\n    away; and, indeed, most Churches in the City felt its force more or\n    less; it also blew down abundance of great Trees in the Marsh,\n    _College-Green_, St. _James_'s Church-yard, and other places in the\n    City. And in the Country it blew down and scattered abundance of Hay\n    and Corn Mows, besides almost Levelling many Orchards and Groves of\n    stout Trees. But the greatest damage done to the City was, the\n    violent over-flowing of the Tide, occasion'd by the force of the\n    Wind, which flowed an extraordinary height, and did abundance of\n    damage to the Merchants Cellers. It broke in with great fury over\n    the Marsh Country, forcing down the Banks or Sea Walls, drowning\n    abundance of Sheep, and other Cattle, washing some houses clear\n    away, and breaking down part of others, in which many Persons lost\n    their Lives. It likewise drove most of the Ships in _Kingroad_ a\n    considerable way upon the Land, some being much shatter'd, and one\n    large Vessel broke all in pieces, and near all the Men lost,\n    besides several lost out of other Vessels. To conclude, the Damage\n    sustein'd by this City alone in Merchandise, Houses, &c. is Computed\n    to an Hundred Thousand Pounds, besides the great Loss in the\n    Country, of Cattel, Corn, &c. which has utterly ruined many Farmers,\n    whose substance consisted in their Stock aforesaid. So having given\n    you the most material Circumstances, and fatal Effects of this great\n    Tempest in these Parts. I conclude\n      _Your (unknown) Friend and Servant_,\n_From_ Huntspill _in_ Somersetshire, _we have the following Account\nfrom, as we suppose, the Minister of the place, tho' unknown to the\nCollector of this Work._\n    The Parish of _Huntspill_ hath receiv'd great Damage by the late\n    Inundation of the Salt Water, particularly the West part thereof\n    suffered most: For on the 27th Day of _November_ last, about four of\n    the Clock in the Morning, a mighty Southwest Wind blew so strong, as\n    (in a little time) strangely tore our Sea Walls; insomuch, that a\n    considerable part of the said Walls were laid smooth, after which\n    the Sea coming in with great Violence, drove in five Vessels\n    belonging to _Bridgewater Key_ out of the Channel, upon a Wharf in\n    our Parish, which lay some distance off from the Channel, and there\n    they were all grounded; it is said, that the Seamen there fathom'd\n    the depth and found it about nine Foot, which is taken notice to be\n    four Foot above our Walls when standing; the Salt Water soon\n    overflow'd all the West end of the Parish, forcing many of the\n    Inhabitants from their Dwellings, and to shift for their Lives: The\n    Water threw down several Houses, and in one an antient Woman was\n    drown'd, being about fourscore Years old: Some Families shelter'd\n    themselves in the Church, and there staid till the Waters were\n    abated: Three Window Leaves of the Tower were blown down, and the\n    Ruff-cast scal'd off in many places: Much of the Lead of the Church\n    was damnify'd; the Windows of the Church and Chancel much broken,\n    and the Chancel a great part of it untiled: The Parsonage House,\n    Barn and Walls received great Damage; as also, did some of the\n    Neighbours in their Houses: At the West end of the Parsonage House\n    stood a very large Elm, which was four Yards a quarter and half a\n    quarter in the Circumference, it was broken off near the Ground by\n    the Wind, without forcing any one of the Moars above the Surface,\n    but remain'd as they were before: The Inhabitants (many of them)\n    have receiv'd great Losses in their Sheep, and their other Cattle;\n    in their Corn and Hay there is great spoil made. This is what\n    Information I can give of the Damage this Parish hath sustain'd by\n    the late dreadful Tempest.\n      _Huntspill_,        _Your humble Servant_,\n_From_ Minehead _in_ Somersetshire, _and_ Swanzy _in_ Wales, _the\nfollowing Accounts are to be depended upon._\n    I received yours, and in answer to it these are to acquaint you,\n    that all the Ships in our Harbour except two (which were 23 or 24 in\n    Number, besides Fishing Boats) were, through the Violence of the\n    Storm, and the mooring Posts giving way, drove from their Anchors,\n    one of them was stav'd to pieces, nine drove Ashoar; but 'tis hoped\n    will be all got off again, though some of them are very much\n    damnified: Several of the Fishing Boats likewise, with their Nets,\n    and other Necessaries were destroy'd. Three Seamen were drowned in\n    the Storm, and one Man was squeez'd to Death last _Wednesday_, by\n    one of the Ships that was forc'd Ashoar, suddenly coming upon him,\n    as they were digging round her, endeavouring to get her off.\n    Our Peer also was somewhat damaged, and 'tis thought, if the Storm\n    had continued till another Tide, it would have been quite washed\n    away, even level to the Ground; which if so, would infallibly have\n    ruined our Harbour: Our Church likewise was almost all untiled, the\n    neighbouring Churches also received much Damage: The Houses of our\n    Town, and all the Country round about, were most of them damaged;\n    some (as I am credibly informed) blown down, and several in a great\n    Measure uncovered: Trees also of a very great Bigness were broken\n    off in the middle, and vast Numbers blown down; one Gentleman, as he\n    told me himself, having 2500 Trees blown down: I wish you good\n    Success in these your Undertakings, and I pray God that this late\n    great Calamity which was sent upon us as a punishment for our Sins,\n    may be a warning to the whole Nation in general, and engage every\n    one of us to a hearty and sincere Repentance; otherwise, I'm afraid\n    we must expect greater Evils than this was to fall upon us.\n      _From your unknown Friend and Servant_,\n    I receiv'd yours and accordingly have made an enquiry in our\n    Neighbourhood what damage might be done in the late Storm, thro\n    Mercy we escap'd indifferently, but you will find underwritten as\n    much as I can learn to be certainly true.\n    The Storm began here about 12 at Night, but the most violent part of\n    it was about 4 the next Morning, about which time the greatest part\n    of the Houses in the Town were uncovered more or less, and one House\n    clearly blown down; the damage sustain'd to the Houses is modestly\n    computed at 200 _l._ the South Isle of the Church was wholly\n    uncovered, and considerable damage done to the other Isles, and 4\n    large Stones weighing about One Hundred and Fifty or Two Hundred\n    Pound each, was blown down from the end of the Church, three of the\n    four Iron Spears, that stood with Vanes on the corners of the Tower,\n    were broke short off in the middle, and the Vanes not to be found,\n    and the Tail of the Weather Cock, which stood in the middle of the\n    Tower was blown off, and found in a Court near 400 yards distant\n    from the Tower. In _Cline_ Wood belonging to the Duke of _Beaufort_\n    near this Town, there is about 100 large Trees blown down; as also\n    in a Wood on our River belonging to Mr. _Thomas Mansell_ of\n    _Brittonferry_ about 80 large Oakes. The Tydes did not much damage,\n    but two Ships were blown off our Bar, and by Providence one came\n    aground on the Salt House point near our Harbour, else the Ship and\n    Men had perished; the other came on shore, but was saved. I hear\n    further, that there are several Stacks of Corn over-turn'd by the\n    violence of the Wind, in the Parishes of _Roysily_ and _Largenny_ in\n    _Gower_; most of the Thatcht Houses in this Neighbourhood was\n    uncovered. Sir, this you may rely on to be true,\n        William Jones\n_From_ Grimsby _in_ Lincolnshire, _the following Account is taken for\nfavourable_.\n    The late dreadful Tempest did not (Blessed be God) much affect us on\n    shore, so far was it from having any events more than common, that\n    the usual marks of ordinary Storms are not to be met with in these\n    parts upon the Land. I wish I could give as good an Account of the\n    Ships then at Anchor in our Road, the whole Fleet consisted of about\n    an hundred Sail, fifty whereof were wanting after the Storm. The\n    Wrecks of four are to be seen in the Road at low Water their Men all\n    lost, three more were sunk near the _Spurn_, all the Men but one\n    saved, six or seven were driven ashoar, and got off again with\n    little or no damage. A small Hoy, not having a Man on Board, was\n    taken at Sea, by a Merchant Ship, what became of the rest, we are\n    yet to learn. This is all the Account I am able to give of the\n    effects of the late Storm, which was so favourable to us. I am\n      _Sir, Your most Humble Servant_,\n_From_ Newport _and_ Hastings _the following Accounts are chiefly\nmentioned to confirm what we have from other Inland parts, and\nparticularly in the Letter Printed in the Philosophical Transactions,\nconcerning the Salt being found on the Grass and Trees, at great\ndistance from the Sea, of which there are very Authentick Relations._\n    I received yours, and do hereby give you the best account of what\n    hapned by the late Storm in our Island; we have had several Trees\n    blown down, and many Houses in our Town, and all parts of the Island\n    partly uncovered, but Blessed be God not one Person perisht that I\n    know or have heard of; nor one Ship or Vessel stranded on our shores\n    in that dreadful Storm, but only one Vessel laden with Tin, which\n    was driven from her Anchors in _Cornwal_, but was not stranded here\n    till the _Tuesday_ after, having spent her Main-mast and all her\n    Sails. On _Sunday_ night last we had several Ships and Vessels\n    stranded on the South and South West parts of our Island; but\n    reports are so various, that I cannot tell you how many, some say 7,\n    others 8, 12, and some say 15; one or two laden with Cork, and two\n    or three with _Portugal_ Wine, Oranges and Lemons, one with Hides\n    and Butter, one with Sugar, one with Pork, Beef and Oatmeal, and one\n    with Slates. _Monday_ night, _Tuesday_ and _Wednesday_ came on the\n    back of our Island, and some in at the _Needles_, the Fleet that\n    went out with the King of _Spain_, but it has been here such a\n    dreadful Storm, and such dark weather till this Afternoon, that we\n    can give no true account of them; some say that have been at the\n    Wrecks this Afternoon, that there were several great Ships coming in\n    then: There is one thing I had almost forgotten, and I think is very\n    remarkable, that there was found on the Hedges and Twigs of Trees,\n    knobs of Salt Congeal'd, which must come from the South and South\n    West parts of our Sea Coast, and was seen and tasted at the distance\n    of 6 and 10 miles from those Seas, and this account I had my self\n    from the mouths of several Gentlemen of undeniable Reputation,\n      Tho. Reade.\n    _Hastings_ in Sussex, _Jan._ 25. 1703.\n    You desire to know what effect the late dreadful Storm of Wind had\n    upon this Town; in answer to your desire, take the following\n    Account. This Town consists of at least 600 Houses, besides two\n    great Churches, some Publick Buildings, and many Shops standing upon\n    the Beach near the Sea, and yet by the special Blessing and\n    Providence of God, the whole Town suffered not above 30 or 40 _l._\n    damage in their Houses, Churches, Publick Building and Shops, and\n    neither Man, Woman or Child suffered the least hurt by the said\n    Terrible Storm. The Town stands upon the Sea shore, but God be\n    thanked the Sea did us no damage; and the Tydes were not so great as\n    we have seen upon far less Storms. The Wind was exceeding\n    Boisterous, which might drive the Froth and Sea moisture six or\n    seven miles up the Country, for at that distances from the Sea, the\n    Leaves of the Trees and Bushes, were as Salt as if they had been\n    dipped in the Sea, which can be imputed to nothing else, but the\n    Violent Winds carrying the Froth and Moisture so far. I believe it\n    may be esteemed almost Miraculous that our Town escaped so well in\n    the late terrible Storm, and therefore I have given you this\n    Account. I am\n      _Sir, your Friend_,\n           Stephen Gawen.\n_The following melancholy Account from the Town of_ Brighthemstone _in_\nSussex _is sent us._\n    The late dreadful Tempest in _Novemb._ 27. 1703. last, had very\n    terrible Effects in this Town. It began here much about One of the\n    Clock in the Morning, the violence of the Wind stript a great many\n    Houses, turn'd up the Leads off the Church, over-threw two\n    Windmills, and laid them flat on the ground, the Town in general\n    (upon the approach of Day-light) looking as if it had been\n    Bombarded. Several Vessels belonging to this Town were lost, others\n    stranded, and driven ashoar, others forced over to _Holland_ and\n    _Hamborough_, to the great Impoverishment of the Place. _Derick\n    Pain_, Junior, Master of the _Elizabeth_ Ketch of this Town lost,\n    with all his Company. _George Taylor_, Master of the Ketch call'd\n    the _Happy Entrance_, lost, and his Company, excepting _Walter\n    Street_, who swiming three days on a Mast between the _Downs_ and\n    _North Yarmouth_, was at last taken up. _Richard Webb_, Master of\n    the Ketch call'd the _Richard and Rose_ of _Brighthelmston_, lost,\n    and all his Company near St. _Hellens_. _Edward Friend_, Master of\n    the Ketch call'd _Thomas and Francis_, stranded near _Portsmouth_.\n    _Edward Glover_, Master of the Pink call'd _Richard and Benjamin_,\n    stranded near _Chichester_, lost one of his Men, and he, and the\n    rest of his Company, forced to hang in the Shrouds several hours.\n    _George Beach_, Junior, Master of the Pink call'd _Mary_, driven\n    over to _Hamborough_ from the _Downes_, having lost his Anchor,\n    Cables and Sails. _Robert Kichener_, Master of the _Cholmley_ Pink\n    of _Brighton_, lost near the _Roseant_ with nine Men, five Men and a\n    Boy saved by another Vessel. This is all out of this Town, besides\n    the loss of several other able Seamen belonging to this Place,\n    aboard of her Majesty's Ships, Transports and Tenders.\n_From_ Lymington _and_ Lyme _we have the following Letters_:\n    I receiv'd your Letter, and have made Enquiry concerning what\n    Disasters happen'd during the late Storm; what I can learn at\n    present, and that may be credited, are these. That a _Guernsey_\n    Privateer lost his Fore-top-mast, and cut his main Mast by the\n    Board, had 12 Men wash'd over board, and by the toss of another\n    immediate Sea three of them was put on board again, and did very\n    well; this was coming within the _Needles_. That six Stacks of\n    Chimnies were, by the violence of the Wind, blown from a great House\n    call'd _New Park_ in the _Forrest_, some that stood directly to\n    Windward, were blown clear off the House without injuring the Roof,\n    or damaging the House, or any mischief to the Inhabitants, and fell\n    some Yards from the House. Almost 4000 Trees were torn up by the\n    roots within her Majesty's Forrest call'd _New Forrest_, some of\n    them of very great bulk, others small, _&c._ A Ship of about 200\n    Tun, from _Maryland_, laden with Tobacco, call'd the _Assistance_,\n    was Cast away upon _Hurst Beach_, one of the Mates, and 4 Sailors,\n    were lost. By the flowing of the Sea over _Hurst Beach_, two\n    Salt-terns were almost ruin'd belonging to one Mr. _Perkins_. A new\n    Barn, nigh this Town, was blown quite down. The Town receiv'd not\n    much damage, only some Houses being stript of the Healing, Windows\n    broke, and a Chimney or two blown down. Considerable damages amongst\n    the Farmers in the adjacent Places, by over-turning Barns,\n    Out-houses, Stacks of Corn and Hay, and also amongst poor Families,\n    and small Houses, and likewise abundance of Trees of all sorts,\n    especially Elms and Apple-Trees, has been destroy'd upon the several\n    Gentlemen's, and others Estates hereabouts. These are the most\n    remarkable Accidents that I can Collect at present; if any thing\n    occur, it shall be sent you by\n      _Your humble Servant,\n      Lymington, _Feb._ 1704.   James Baker._\n_A True and exact Account of the Damages done by the late great Wind in\nthe Town of_ Lyme Regis, _and parts adjacent in the County of_ Dorset,\n_as followeth_,\n    _Impri_. Five Boats drove out of the Cob and one Vessel lost, broke\n    loose all but one Cabel, and swung out of the Cob, but was got in\n    again with little Damage; and had that Hurricane happened here at\n    High Water, the Cob must without doubt have been destroyed, and all\n    the Vessels in it been lost, most of the Houses had some Damage: But\n    a great many Trees blown up by the Roots in our Neighbourhood, and\n    four Miles to the Eastward of this Town: A _Guernsey_ Privateer of\n    eight Guns, and 43 Men drove Ashoar, and but three Men saved of the\n    43; the place where the said Privateer run Ashoar, is call'd _Sea\n    Town_, half a Mile from _Chidock_, where most of there Houses were\n    uncovered, and one Man killed as he lay in Bed: This is the true\n    Account here, but all Villages suffered extreamly in Houses, Trees,\n    both Elm and Apples without Number.\n      _Sir, I am your humble Servant_,\n_From_ Margate, _and the Island of_ Thanet _in_ Kent, _the following is\nan honest Account_.\n    The following Account is what I can give you, of what Damage is done\n    in this Island in the late great Storm; in this Town hardly a House\n    escaped without Damage, and for the most part of them the Tiles\n    blown totally off from the Roof, and several Chimneys blown down,\n    that broke through part of the Houses to the Ground; and several\n    Families very narrowly escaped being kill'd in their Beds, being by\n    Providence just got up, so that they escaped, and none was kill'd;\n    the like Damages being done in most little Towns and Villages upon\n    this Island, as likewise Barns, Stables and Out-housing blown down\n    to the Ground in a great many Farm-houses and Villages within the\n    Island, part of the Leads of our Church blown clear off, and a great\n    deal of Damage to the Church it self; likewise a great deal of\n    Damage to the Churches of St. _Lawrance Minster_, _Mounton_ and St.\n    _Nichola_: In this Road was blown out one _Latchford_ of _Sandwich_\n    bound home from _London_, with divers Men and Women passengers all\n    totally lost: And another little Pink that is not heard of blown\n    away at the same time, but where it belonged is not known; here rid\n    out the Storm the Princess _Anne_, Captain _Charles Gye_, and the\n    _Swan_, both Hospital Ships, had no Damage, only Captain _Gye_ was\n    parted from one of his Anchors, and part of a Cable which was\n    weigh'd and carry'd after him to the River, by one of our Hookers.\n    All from\n      _Yours to Command_,\n_From_ Malden _in_ Essex, _and from_ Southampton, _the following\nAccounts_.\n    By the late great Storm our Damages were considerable. A Spire of a\n    Steeple blown down: Several Vessels in this Harbour were much\n    shatter'd, particularly one Corn Vessel laden for _London_,\n    stranded, and the Corn lost to the Value of about 500 _l._ and the\n    Persons narrowly escaped by a small Boat that relieved them next\n    Day: Many Houses ript up, and some blown down: The Churches\n    shatter'd, and the principal Inn of this Town thirty or forty pound\n    Damage in Tiling: At a Gentleman's House (one Mr. _Moses Bourton_)\n    near us, a Stack of Chimneys blown down, fell through the Roof upon\n    a Bed, where his Children was, who were drag'd out, and they\n    narrowly escaped; many other Chimney's blown down here, and much\n    Mischief done.\n    _Southampton, February the_ 7_th_ 1703/4.\n    Yours I have receiv'd, in which you desire me to give you an Account\n    of what remarkable Damage the late violent Storm hath done at this\n    place; in answer, We had most of the Ships in our River, and those\n    that laid off from our Keys blown Ashoar, some partly torn to\n    Wrecks, and three or four blown so far on Shoar with the Violence of\n    the Wind, that the Owners have been at the Charges of unlading them,\n    and dig large Channels for the Spring Tides to float them off, and\n    with much a do have got them off, it being on a soft Sand or Mud,\n    had but little Damage; we had, God be prais'd no body drowned, tho'\n    some narrowly Escape't: As to our Town it being most part old\n    Building, we have suffer'd much, few or no Houses have escape't:\n    Several Stacks of Chimneys blown down, other Houses most part\n    untiled: Several People bruis'd, but none kill'd: Abundance of Trees\n    round about us, especially in the New Forest blown down; others with\n    their Limbs of a great bigness torn; it being what we had most\n    Material. I rest.\n      _Sir, your humble Servant_,\n_We have abundance of strange Accounts from other Parts, and\nparticularly the following Letter from the_ Downs, _and tho' every\nCircumstance in this Letter is not litterally True, as to the Number of\nShips, or Lives lost, and the stile Coarse, and Sailor like; yet I have\ninserted this Letter, because it seems to describe the Horror and\nConsternation the poor Sailors were in at that time. And because this is\nWritten from one, who was as near an Eye Witness as any could possible\nbe, and be safe,_\n    These Lines I hope in God will find you in good Health, we are all\n    left here in a dismal Condition, expecting every moment to be all\n    drowned: For here is a great Storm, and is very likely to continue;\n    we have here the Rear Admiral of the Blew in the Ship, call'd the\n    _Mary_, a third Rate, the very next Ship to ours, sunk, with Admiral\n    _Beaumont_, and above 500 Men drowned: The Ship call'd the\n    _Northumberland_, a third Rate, about 500 Men all sunk and drowned:\n    The Ship call'd the _Sterling Castle_, a third Rate, all sunk and\n    drowned above 500 Souls: And the Ship call'd the _Restoration_, a\n    third Rate, all sunk and drowned: These Ships were all close by us\n    which I saw; these Ships fired their Guns all Night and Day long,\n    poor Souls, for help, but the Storm being so fierce and raging,\n    could have none to save them: The Ship call'd the _Shrewsberry_ that\n    we are in, broke two Anchors, and did run mighty fierce backwards,\n    within 60 or 80 Yards of the Sands, and as God Almighty would have\n    it, we flung our sheet Anchor down, which is the biggest, and so\n    stopt: Here we all pray'd to God to forgive us our Sins, and to save\n    us, or else to receive us into his Heavenly Kingdom. If our sheet\n    Anchor had given way, we had been all drown'd: But I humbly thank\n    God, it was his gracious Mercy that saved us. There's one Captain\n    _Fanel_'s Ship, three Hospital Ships, all split, some sunk, and most\n    of the Men drown'd.\n    There are above 40 Merchant Ships cast away and sunk: To see Admiral\n    _Beaumont_, that was next us, and all the rest of his Men, how they\n    climed up the main Mast, hundreds at a time crying out for help,\n    and thinking to save their Lives, and in the twinkling of an Eye\n    were drown'd: I can give you no Account, but of these four Men of\n    War aforesaid, which I saw with my own Eyes, and those Hospital\n    Ships, at present, by reason the Storm hath drove us far distant\n    from one another: Captain _Crow_, of our Ship, believes we have lost\n    several more Ships of War, by reason we see so few; we lye here in\n    great danger, and waiting for a North Easterly Wind to bring us to\n    _Portsmouth_, and it is our Prayers to God for it; for we know not\n    how soon this Storm may arise, and cut us all off, for it is a\n    dismal Place to Anchor in. I have not had my Cloaths off, nor a wink\n    of Sleep these four Nights, and have got my Death with cold almost.\n      _Yours to Command_,\n               Miles Norcliffe.\n    I send this, having opportunity by our Botes, that went Ashoar to\n    carry some poor Men off, that were almost dead, and were taken up\n    Swimming.\n_The following Letter is yet more Particular and Authentick, and being\nbetter exprest, may further describe the Terror of the Night in this\nplace._\n    I understand you are a Person concerned in making up a Collection of\n    some remarkable accidents that happened by the Violence of the late\n    dreadful Storm. I here present you with one of the like. I presume\n    you never heard before, nor hope may never hear again of a Ship that\n    was blown from her Anchors out of _Helford Haven_ to the _Isle of\n    Wight_, in less than eight hours, _viz._ The Ship lay in _Helford\n    Haven_ about two Leagues and a half Westward of _Falmouth_, being\n    laden with Tin, which was taken on Board from _Guague_ Wharf, about\n    five or six miles up _Helford_ River, the Commanders name was\n    _Anthony Jenkins_, who lives at _Falmouth_. About eight Clock in the\n    Evening before the Storm begun, the said Commander and Mate came on\n    Board and ordered the Crew that he left on Board, which was but one\n    Man and 2 Boys; that if the Wind should chance to blow hard (which\n    he had some apprehension of) to carry out the small Bower Anchor,\n    and moor the Ship by 2 Anchors, and gave them some other orders, and\n    his Mate and he went ashoar, and left the Crew aforesaid on Board;\n    about nine a Clock the Wind began to blow, then they carried out the\n    small Bower (as directed) it continued blowing harder and harder at\n    West North West, at last the Ship began to drive, then they were\n    forced to let go the best Bower Anchor which brought the Ship up.\n    The Storm increasing more, they let go the Kedge Anchor, which was\n    all they had to let go, so that the Ship rid with four Anchors a\n    head: Between eleven and twelve a Clock the Wind came about West and\n    by South in a most Terrible and Violent manner, that notwithstanding\n    a very high Hill just to Windward of the Ship, and four Anchors\n    ahead, she was drove from all her Anchors; and about twelve a Clock\n    drove out of the Harbour without Anchor or Cable, nor so much as a\n    Boat left in case they could put into any Harbour. In dreadful\n    condition the Ship drove out clear of the Rocks to Sea, where the\n    Man with the two Boys consulted what to do, at last resolved to keep\n    her far enough to Sea, for fear of _Deadman's Head_, being a point\n    of Land between _Falmouth_ and _Plimouth_, the latter of which\n    places they designed to run her in, if possible, to save their\n    Lives; the next morning in this frighted condition they steer'd her\n    clear of the Land (to the best of their skill) sometimes almost\n    under Water, and sometimes a top, with only the bonet of her\n    Foresail out, and the Fore yard almost lower'd to the Deck; but\n    instead of getting into _Plymouth_ next day as intended, they were\n    far enough off that Port, for the next morning they saw Land, which\n    proved to be _Peverel_ Point, a little to the Westward of the _Isle\n    of Wight_; so that they were in a worse Consternation then before,\n    for over-running their designed Port by seven a Clock, they found\n    themselves off the _Isle of Wight_; where they consulted again what\n    to do to save their Lives, one of the Boys was for running her into\n    the _Downs_, but that was objected against, by reason they had no\n    Anchors nor Boat, and the Storm blowing off shore in the _Downs_,\n    they should be blown on the unfortunate _Goodwin Sands_ and lost.\n    Now comes the last consultation for their lives, there was one of\n    the Boys said he had been in a certain Creek in the _Isle of\n    Wight_, where between the Rocks he believed there was room enough to\n    run the Ship in and save their Lives, and desired to have the Helm\n    from the Man, and he would venture to steer the Ship into the said\n    place, which he according did, where there was only just room\n    between Rock and Rock for the Ship to come in, where she gave one\n    blow or two against the Rocks, and sunk immediately, but the Man and\n    two Boys jumpt ashore, and all the Lading being Tin was saved, (and\n    for their Conduct and Risk they run) they were all very well\n    gratified, and the Merchants well satisfied.\n      _Your Friend and Servant_,\nAnd here I cannot omit that great Notice has been taken of the\nTowns-people of _Deal_ who are blam'd, and I doubt not with too much\nReason for their great Barbarity in neglecting to save the Lives of\nabundance of poor Wretches; who having hung upon the Masts and Rigging\nof the Ships, or floated upon the broken Pieces of Wrecks, had gotten a\nShore upon the _Goodwin Sands_ when the Tide was out.\nIt was, without doubt, a sad Spectacle to behold the poor Seamen walking\ntoo and fro upon the Sands, to view their Postures, and the Signals they\nmade for help, which, by the Assistance of Glasses was easily seen from\nthe Shore.\nHere they had a few Hours Reprieve, but had neither present Refreshment,\nnor any hopes of Life, for they were sure to be all wash'd into another\nWorld at the Reflux of the Tide. Some Boats are said to come very near\nthem in quest of Booty, and in search of Plunder, and to carry off what\nthey could get, but no Body concern'd themselves for the Lives of these\nmiserable Creatures.\nAnd yet I cannot but incert what I have receiv'd from very good Hands in\nbehalf of one Person in that Town, whose Humanity deserves this\nremembrance, and I am glad of the Opportunity of doing some Justice in\nthis Case to a Man of so much Charity in a Town of so little.\nMr. _Thomas Powell_, of _Deal_, a Slop-Seller by Trade, and at that\ntime Mayor of the Town. The Character of his Person I need not dwell\nupon here, other than the ensuing Accounts will describe, for when I\nhave said he is a Man of Charity and Courage, there is little I need to\nadd to it, to move the Reader to value both his Person, and his Memory;\nand tho' I am otherwise a perfect Stranger to him, I am very well\npleased to transmit to Posterity the Account of his Behaviour, as an\nExample to all good Christians to imitate on the like Occasions.\nHe found himself mov'd with Compasion at the Distresses of the poor\nCreatures, whom he saw as aforesaid in that miserable Condition upon the\nSands, and the first Thing he did, he made Application to the\nCustom-House Officers for the Assistance of their Boats and Men, to save\nthe Lives of as many as they could come at, the Custom House Men rudely\nrefus'd, either to send their Men, or to part with their Boats.\nProvoked with the unnatural Carriage of the Custom House Officers, he\ncalls the People about him; and finding some of the Common People began\nto be more than ordinarily affected with the Distresses of their\nCountrymen, and as he thought a little enclin'd to venture; he made a\ngeneral Offer to all that would venture out, that he would pay them out\nof his own Pocket _5s. per head_ for all the Men whose Lives they could\nsave, upon this Proposal several offered themselves to go, if he would\nfurnish 'em with Boats.\nFinding the main Point clear, and that he had brought the Men to be\nwilling, he with their Assistance took away the Custom House Boats by\nForce; and tho' he knew he could not justify it, and might be brought\ninto Trouble for it, and particularly if it were lost, might be oblig'd\nto pay for it, yet he resolv'd to venture that, rather than hazard the\nloss of his Design, for the saving so many poor Men's Lives, and having\nMann'd their Boat with a Crew of stout honest Fellows, he with them took\naway several other Boats from other Persons, who made use of them only\nto Plunder and Rob, not regarding the Distresses of the poor Men.\nBeing thus provided both with Men and Boats he sent them off, and by\nthis means brought on Shore above 200 Men, whose Lives a few Minutes\nafter, must infallibly ha' been lost.\nNor was this the End of his Care, for when the Tide came in, and 'twas\ntoo late to go off again, for that all that were left were swallow'd up\nwith the Raging of the Sea, his Care was then to relieve the poor\nCreatures, who he had sav'd, and who almost dead with Hunger and Cold,\nwere naked and starving.\nAnd first he applied himself to the Queen's Agent _for Sick and Wounded\nSeamen_, but he would not relieve them with One Penny, whereupon, at his\nown Charge, he furnish'd them with Meat, Drink and Lodging.\nThe next Day several of them died, the Extremities they had suffer'd,\nhaving too much Master'd their Spirits, these he was forc'd to bury also\nat his own Charge, the Agent still refusing to Disburse one Penny.\nAfter their Refreshment the poor Men assisted by the Mayor, made a fresh\nApplication to the Agent for Conduct Money to help them up to _London_,\nbut he answer'd he had no Order, and would Disburse nothing, whereupon\nthe Mayor gave them all Money in their Pockets, and Passes to\n_Graves-End_.\nI wish I could say with the same Freedom, that he receiv'd the Thanks of\nthe Government, and Reimbursement of his Money as he deserv'd, but in\nthis I have been inform'd, he met with great Obstructions and Delays,\ntho' at last, after long Attendance, upon a right Application I am\ninform'd he obtain'd the repayment of his Money, and some small\nAllowance for his Time spent in solliciting for it.\nNor can the Damage suffered in the River of _Thames_ be forgot. It was a\nstrange sight to see all the Ships in the River blown away, the Pool was\nso clear, that as I remember, not above 4 Ships were left between the\nUpper part of _Wapping_, and _Ratcliff Cross_, for the Tide being up at\nthe Time when the Storm blew with the greatest violence. No Anchors or\nLandfast, no Cables or Moorings would hold them, the Chains which lay\ncross the River for the mooring of Ships, all gave way.\nThe Ships breaking loose thus, it must be a strange sight to see the\nHurry and Confusion of it, and as some Ships had no Body at all on\nBoard, and a great many had none but a Man or Boy left on Board just to\nlook after the Vessel, there was nothing to be done, but to let every\nVessel drive whither and how she would.\nThose who know the Reaches of the River, and how they lye, know well\nenough, that the Wind being at South West Westerly, the Vessels would\nnaturally drive into the Bite or Bay from _Ratcliff Cross_ to\n_Lime-house Hole_, for that the River winding about again from thence\ntowards the New Dock at _Deptford_, runs almost due South West, so that\nthe Wind blew down one Reach, and up another, and the Ships must of\nnecessity drive into the bottom of the Angle between both.\nThis was the Case, and as the Place is not large, and the Number of\nShips very great, the force of the Wind had driven them so into one\nanother, and laid them so upon one another as it were in heaps, that I\nthink a Man may safely defy all the World to do the like.\nThe Author of this Collection had the curiosity the next day to view the\nplace and to observe the posture they lay in, which nevertheless 'tis\nimpossible to describe; there lay, by the best Account he could take,\nfew less than 700 sail of Ships, some very great ones between _Shadwel_\nand _Limehouse_ inclusive, the posture is not to be imagined, but by\nthem that saw it, some Vessels lay heeling off with the Bow of another\nShip over her Waste, and the Stem of another upon her Fore-Castle, the\nBoltsprits of some drove into the Cabbin Windows of others; some lay\nwith their Sterns tossed up so high, that the Tide flowed into their\nFore-Castles before they cou'd come to Rights; some lay so leaning upon\nothers, that the undermost Vessels wou'd sink before the other could\nfloat; the numbers of Masts, Boltsprits and Yards split and broke, the\nstaving the Heads, and Sterns and Carved Work, the tearing and\ndestruction of Rigging, and the squeezing of Boats to pieces between the\nShips, is not to be reckoned; but there was hardly a Vessel to be seen\nthat had not suffer'd some damage or other in one or all of these\nArticles.\nThere was several Vessels sunk in this hurry, but as they were generally\nlight Ships, the damage was chiefly to the Vessels; but there were two\nShips sunk with great quantity of Goods on Board, the _Russel_ Galley\nwas sunk at _Lime-house_, being a great part laden with Bale Goods for\nthe _Streights_, and the _Sarah_ Gally lading for _Leghorn_, sunk at an\nAnchor at _Blackwall_; and though she was afterwards weighed and brought\non shore, yet her back was broke, or so otherwise disabled, as she was\nnever fit for the Sea; there were several Men drown'd in these last two\nVessels, but we could never come to have the particular number.\nNear _Gravesend_ several Ships drove on shoar below _Tilbury_ Fort, and\namong them five bound for the _West Indies_, but as the shoar is ouzy\nand soft, the Vessels sat upright and easy, and here the high Tides\nwhich follow'd, and which were the ruin of so many in other places, were\nthe deliverance of all these Ships whose lading and value was very\ngreat, for the Tide rising to an unusual height, floated them all off,\nand the damage was not so great as was expected.\nIf it be expected I should give an account of the loss, and the\nparticulars relating to small Craft, _as the Sailors call it_, in the\nRiver it is to look for what is impossible, other than by generals.\nThe Watermen tell us of above 500 Wheries lost, most of which were not\nsunk only but dasht to pieces one against another, or against the Shores\nand Ships, where they lay: Ship Boats without number were driven about\nin every corner, sunk and staved, and about 300 of them is supposed to\nbe lost. Above 60 Barges and Lighters were found driven foul of the\n_Bridge_: some Printed accounts tell us of sixty more sunk or staved\nbetween the _Bridge_ and _Hammersmith_.\nAbundance of Lighters and Barges drove quite thro' the _Bridge_, and\ntook their fate below, whereof many were lost, so that we Reckon by a\nmodest account above 100 Lighters and Barges lost and spoil'd in the\nwhole, not reckoning such as with small damage were recovered.\nIn all this confusion it could not be, but that many Lives were lost,\nbut as the _Thames_ often times Buries those it drowns, there has been\nno account taken. Two Watermen at _Black Fryars_ were drowned,\nendeavouring to save their Boat; and a Boat was said to be Overset near\n_Fulham_, and five People drown'd: According to the best account I have\nseen, about 22 People were drown'd in the River upon this sad occasion,\nwhich considering all circumstances is not a great many, and the damage\nto Shipping computed with the vast number of Ships then in the River,\nthe Violence of the Storm, and the heighth of the Tide, confirms me in\nthe Truth of that Opinion, which I have heard many skilful Men own,\n_viz._ that the River of _Thames_ is the best Harbour of _Europe_.\nThe heighth of the Tide, as I have already observ'd, did no great damage\nin the River of _Thames_, and I find none of the Levels or Marshes,\nwhich lye on both sides the River overflowed with it, it fill'd the\nCellars indeed at _Gravesend_, and on both sides in _London_, and the\nAlehouse-keepers suffered some loss as to their Beer, but this damage is\nnot worth mentioning with what our Accounts give us from the _Severn_;\nwhich, besides the particular Letters we have already quoted, the Reader\nmay observe in the following, what our general intelligence furnishes us\nwith.\nThe Damages in the City of _Gloucester_ they compute at 12000 _l._ above\n15000 Sheep drown'd in the Levels on the side of the _Severne_, and the\nSea Walls will cost, as these Accounts tell us, 5000 _l._ to repair, all\nthe Country lyes under Water for 20 or 30 Miles together on both sides,\nand the Tide rose three Foot higher than the tops of the Banks.\nAt _Bristol_ they tell us, The Tide fill'd their Cellars, spoil'd 1000\nHogsheads of Sugar, 1500 Hogsheds of Tobacco, and the Damage they reckon\nat 100000 _l._ Above 80 People drown'd in the Marshes and River, Several\nwhole Families perishing together.\nThe Harbour at _Plimouth_, the Castle at _Pendennis_, the Cathederal at\n_Gloucester_, the great Church at _Berkely_, the Church of St.\n_Stephen's_ at _Bristol_; the Churches at _Blandford_, at _Bridgewater_,\nat _Cambridge_, and generally the Churches all over _England_ have had a\ngreat share of the Damage.\nIn _King Road_ at _Bristol_, the Damage by Sea is also very great; the\n_Canterbury_ store Ship was driven on Shoar, and twenty-five of her Men\ndrown'd, as by our account of the Navy will more particularly appear,\nthe _Richard and John_, the _George_, and the _Grace_ sunk, and the\nnumber of People lost is variously reported.\nThese Accounts in the four last Paragraphs being abstracted from the\npublick Prints, and what other Persons collect, I desire the Reader will\nobserve, are not particularly vouch'd, but as they are all true in\nsubstance, they are so far to be depended upon, and if there is any\nmistake it relates to Numbers, and quantity only.\nFrom _Yarmouth_ we expected terrible News, and every one was impatient\ntill they saw the Accounts from thence, for as there was a very great\nFleet there, both of laden Colliers, _Russia_ Men, and others, there was\nnothing to be expected but a dreadful Destruction among them.\nBut it pleas'd God to order Things there, that the loss was not in\nProportion like what it was in other Places, not but that it was very\ngreat too.\nThe _Reserve_ Man of War was come in but a day or two before, Convoy to\nthe great Fleet from _Russia_, and the Captain, Surgeon and Clerk, who\nafter so long a Voyage went on Shoar with two Boats to refresh\nthemselves, and buy Provisions, had the Mortification to stand on Shoar,\nand see the Ship sink before their Faces; she foundred about 11-a-Clock,\nand as the Sea went too high for any help to go off from the Shoar to\nthem, so their own Boats being both on Shoar, there was not one Man\nsav'd; one _Russia_ Ship driving from her Anchors, and running foul of a\nladen Collier sunk by his side, but some of her Men were sav'd by\ngetting on Board the Collier; three or four small Vessels were driven\nout to Sea, and never heard of more; as for the Colliers, tho' most of\nthem were driven from their Anchors, yet going away to Sea, we have not\nan account of many lost.\nThis next to the Providence of God, I give this reason for, first by all\nRelations it appears that the Storm was not so violent farther\nNorthward, as it was there; and as it was not so Violent, so neither did\nit continue so long: Now those Ships, who found they could not ride it\nout in _Yarmouth_ Roads, but slipping their Cables went away to Sea,\npossibly as they went away to the Northward, found the Weather more\nmoderate at least, not so violent, but it might be borne with, to this\nmay be added, that 'tis well known to such as use the Coast after they\nhad run the length of _Flambro_, they had the benefit of the Weather\nShoar, and pretty high land, which if they took shelter under might help\nthem very much; these, with other Circumstances, made the Damage much\nless than every Body expected, and yet as it was, it was bad enough as\nour Letter from _Hull_ gives an Account. At _Grimsby_ it was still worse\nas to the Ships, where almost all the Vessels were blown out of the\nRoad, and a great many lost.\nAt _Plymouth_ they felt a full Proportion of the Storm in its utmost\nfury, the _Edystone_ has been mention'd already, but it was a double\nloss in that, the light House had not been long down, when the\n_Winchelsea_, a homeward bound _Virginia_ Man was split upon the Rock,\nwhere that Building stood, and most of her Men drowned.\nThree other Merchant Ships were cast away in _Plimouth_ Road, and most\nof their Men lost: The _Monk_ Man of War rode it out, but was oblig'd to\ncut all her Masts by the Board, as several Men of War did in other\nplaces.\nAt _Portsmouth_ was a great Fleet, as has been noted already, several of\nthe Ships were blown quite out to Sea, whereof some were never heard of\nmore; the _Newcastle_ was heard off upon the Coast of _Sussex_, where\nshe was lost with all their Men but 23; the _Resolution_, the _Eagle_\nadvice Boat, and the _Litchfield_ Prize felt the same fate, only sav'd\ntheir Men: From _Cows_ several Ships were driven out to Sea, whereof one\nrun on Shoar in _Stokes-bay_, one full of Soldiers, and two Merchant Men\nhave never been heard off, as I could ever learn, abundance of the Ships\nsav'd themselves by cutting down their Masts, and others Stranded, but\nby the help of the ensuing Tides got off again.\n_Portsmouth_, _Plymouth_, _Weymouth_, and most of our Sea Port Towns\nlook'd as if they had been Bombarded, and the Damage of them is not\neasily computed.\nSeveral Ships from the _Downs_ were driven over to the Coast of\n_Holland_, and some sav'd themselves there; but several others were lost\nthere.\nAt _Falmouth_ 11 Sail of Ships were stranded on the Shoar, but most of\nthem got off again.\nIn _Barstable_ Harbour, a Merchant Ship outward bound was over-set, and\nthe express advice Boat very much shatter'd, and the Quay of the Town\nalmost destroy'd.\n'Tis endless to attempt any farther Description of Losses, no place was\nfree either by Land or by Sea, every thing that was capable felt the\nfury of the Storm; and 'tis hard to say, whether was greater the loss\nby Sea, or by Land; the Multitude of brave stout Sailors is a melancholy\nsubject, and if there be any difference gives the sad Ballance to the\nAccount of the Damage by Sea.\nWe had an Account of about 11 or 12 Ships droven over for the Coast of\n_Holland_, most of which were lost, but the Men saved, so that by the\nbest Calculation I can make, we have not lost less than 150 sail of\nVessels of all sorts by the Storm; the number of Men and other damages,\nare Calculated elsewhere.\nWe have several Branches of this Story which at first were too easily\ncredited, and put in Print, but upon more strict examination, and by the\ndiscoveries of Time, appear'd otherwise, and therefore are not set down.\nIt was in the design to have Collected the several Accounts of the fatal\neffects of the Tempest abroad in Foreign Parts; but as our Accounts came\nin from thence too imperfect to be depended upon; the Collector of these\nPapers could not be satisfied to offer them to the World, being willing\nto keep as much as possible to the Terms of his Preface.\nWe are told there is an Abstract to the same purpose with this in\n_France_, Printed at _Paris_, and which contains a strange variety of\nAccidents in that Country.\nIf a particular of this can be obtained, the Author Promises to put it\ninto _English_, and adding to them the other Accounts, which the rest of\nthe World can afford, together with some other Additions of the\n_English_ Affairs, which could not be obtain'd in time here shall make\nup the second part of this Work.\nIn the mean time the Reader may observe, _France_ felt the general\nshock, the Peers, and Ricebank at _Dunkirk_, the Harbour at _Haver de\nGrace_, the Towns of _Calais_ and _Bulloign_ give us strange Accounts.\nAll the Vessels in the Road before _Dunkirk_, being 23 or 27, I am not\ncertain, were dasht in pieces against the Peer Heads, not one excepted,\nthat side being a Lee shoar, the reason is plain, there was no going off\nto Sea; and had it been so with us in the _Downs_ or _Yarmouth_ Roads,\nit would have fared with us in the same manner, for had there been no\ngoing off to Sea, 300 sail in _Yarmouth_ Roads had inevitably perisht.\nAt _Diepe_ the like mischief happened, and in proportion _Paris_ felt\nthe effects of it, as bad as _London_, and as a Gentleman who came from\nthence since that time, affirmed it to me it was much worse.\nAll the N. East Countries felt it, in _Holland_ our accounts in general\nare very dismal, but the Wind not being N.W. as at former Storms, the\nTyde did not drown them, nor beat so directly upon their Sea Wall.\nIt is not very irrational to Judge, that had the Storm beat more to the\nNorth West, it must have driven the Sea upon them in such a manner, that\nall their Dikes and Dams could not have sustained it, and what the\nconsequence of such an Inundation might ha' been they can best judge,\nwho remember the last terrible Irruption of the Sea there, which drowned\nseveral thousand People, and Cattle without number.\nBut as our Foreign Accounts were not satisfactory enough to put into\nthis Collection, where we have promised to limit our selves by just\nVouchers, we purposely refer it all to a farther description as before.\nSeveral of our Ships were driven over to those parts, and some lost\nthere, and the story of our great Ships which rid it out, at or near the\n_Gunfleet_, should have come in here, if the Collector could have met\nwith any Person that was in any of the said Vessels, but as the accounts\nhe expected did not come in the time for the Impression, they were of\nnecessity left out.\nThe _Association_, a Second Rate, on Board whereof was Sir _Stafford\nFairborn_, was one of these, and was blown from the Mouth of the\n_Thames_ to the Coast of _Norway_, a particular whereof as Printed in\nthe Annals of the Reign of Queen _Ann_'s is as follows.\n_An Account of Sir_ Stafford Fairborne_'s Distress in the late Storm_.\n    Her Majesty's Ship _Association_, a second Rate of 96 Guns,\n    commanded by Sir _Stafford Fairborne_, Vice-Admiral of the Red, and\n    under him Captain _Richard Canning_, sailed from the _Downs_ the\n    24th of _November_ last, in Company with seven other Capital Ships,\n    under the Command of the Honourable Sir _Cloudesley Shovel_, Admiral\n    of the White, in their return from _Leghorn_ up the River. They\n    anchored that Night off of the _Long-sand-head_. The next Day struck\n    Yards and Top-Masts. The 27th about three in the Morning, the Wind\n    at West South West, encreased to a Hurricane, which drove the\n    _Association_ from her Anchors. The Night was exceeding dark, but\n    what was more Dreadful, the _Galloper_, a very dangerous Sand, was\n    under her Lee; so that she was in Danger of striking upon it, beyond\n    the Power of Man to avoid it. Driving thus at the Mercy of the\n    Waves, it pleased God, that about five a Clock she passed over the\n    tail of the _Galloper_ in seven Fathom of Water. The Sea boisterous\n    and angry, all in a Foam, was ready to swallow her up; and the Ship\n    received at that time a Sea on her Starboard-side, which beat over\n    all, broke and washed several half Ports, and forced in the entering\n    Port. She took in such a vast quantity of Water, that it kept her\n    down upon her side, and every Body believ'd, that she could not have\n    risen again, had not the Water been speedily let down into the hold\n    by scuttling the Decks. During this Consternation two of the\n    Lower-Gun-Deck-Ports were pressed open by this mighty weight of\n    Water, the most hazardous Accident, next to touching the Ground,\n    that could have happened to us. But the Port, that had been forced\n    open, being readily secured by the Direction and Command of the\n    Vice-Admiral, who, though much indisposed, was upon Deck all that\n    time, prevented any farther Mischief. As the Ship still drove with\n    the Wind, she was not long in this Shoal, (where it was impossible\n    for any Ship to have lived at that time) but came into deeper Water,\n    and then she had a smoother Sea. However the Hurricane did not\n    abate, but rather seemed to gather Strength. For Words were no\n    sooner uttered, but they were carried away by the Wind, so that\n    although those upon Deck spoke loud and close to one another, yet\n    they could not often distinguish what was said; and when they opened\n    their Mouths, their Breath was almost taken away. Part of the Sprit\n    Sail, tho' fast furled, was blown away from the Yard. A\n    Ten-Oar-Boat, that was lashed on her Starboard-side, was often hove\n    up by the Strength of the Wind, and over-set upon her Gun-Wale. We\n    plainly saw the Wind skimming up the Water, as if it had been Sand,\n    carrying it up into the Air, which was then so thick and gloomy,\n    that Day light, which should have been comfortable to us, did, but\n    make it appear more ghastly. The Sun by intervals peeped through the\n    corner of a Cloud, but soon disappearing, gave us a more\n    melancholick Prospect of the Weather. About 11 a Clock it dispersed\n    the Clouds, and the Hurricane abated into a more moderate Storm,\n    which drove us over to the Bank of _Flanders_, and thence along the\n    Coast of _Holland_ and _Friesland_ to the entrance of the Elb, where\n    the 4th of _December_ we had almost as violent a Storm, as when we\n    drove from our Anchors, the Wind at North West, driving us directly\n    upon the Shoar. So that we must all have inevitably perished, had\n    not God mercifully favoured us about 10 a Clock at night with a\n    South West Wind, which gave us an opportunity to put to Sea. But\n    being afterwards driven near the Coast of _Norway_, the Ship wanting\n    Anchors and Cables, our Wood and Candles wholly expended; no Beer on\n    Board, nor any thing else in lieu; every one reduced to one quart of\n    Water _per_ Day, the Men, who had been harrassed at _Belle Isle_;\n    and in our _Mediterranean_ Voyage, now jaded by the continual\n    Fatigues of the Storms, falling sick every Day, the Vice-Admiral in\n    this exigency thought it advisable to put into _Gottenbourgh_, the\n    only Port where we could hope to be supplied. We arrived there the\n    11th of _December_, and having without lost of time got Anchors and\n    Cables from _Copenhagen_, and Provisions from _Gottenbourgh_, we\n    sailed thence the Third of _January_, with twelve Merchant Men under\n    our Convoy, all loaden with Stores for her Majesty's Navy. The\n    Eleventh following we prevented four _French_ Privateers from taking\n    four of our Store-Ships. At Night we anchored off the\n    _Long-Sand-Head_. Weighed again the next Day, but soon came to an\n    Anchor, because it was very hazy Weather. Here we rid against a\n    violent Storm, which was like to have put us to Sea. But after three\n    Days very bad Weather, we weighed and arrived to the _Buoy of the\n    Nore_ the 23d of _January_, having run very great Risks among the\n    Sands. For we had not only contrary Winds, but also very tempestuous\n    Winds. We lost 28 Men by Sickness, contracted by the Hardships which\n    they endur'd in the bad Weather; and had not Sir _Stafford\n    Fairborne_ by his great care and diligence, got the Ship out of\n    _Gottenbourgh_, and by that prevented her being frozen up, most part\n    of the Sailers had perished afterwards by the severity of the\n    Winter, which is intolerable Cold in those parts.\nA LIST _of such of Her Majesty's Ships, with their Commanders Names, as\nwere cast away by the Violent Storm on_ Friday _Night the_ 26_th of_\nNovember 1703. _the Wind having been from the_ S.W. _to_ W.S.W. _and\nthe Storm continuing from about Midnight to past Six in the Morning_.\n   Rates.      |    Ships.      | the Storm._   | Guns. | Commanders.\n  Third--     {| Restoration--  |  386          | 70    | Fleetwood Emes\n  Bomb. Vessel | Mortar--       |   59          | 12    | Raymond Raymond\n  Storeship    | Canterbury--   |   31          |  8    | Thomas Blake--\n  Bomb-Vessel  | Portsmouth--   |   44          |  4    | George Hawes--\n  Commanders.             | Places where   |\n  John Anderson--         | Yarmouth Roads | Her Captain, Purser, Master,\n  James Greenway         }| ---- ----     }| All their men lost.\n  John Johnson--         }| ----           | Third Lieutenant, Chaplain,\n                         }| Goodwin Sands  | sixty-two Men saved.\n  Rear Admiral Beaumont, }| ----           | Only one Man saved by\n  Edward Hopson          }|                | Swimming from Wreck to Wreck,\n  Thomas Long--           |} Holland--     | Her Company saved except\n  Nathan Bostock--        | Selsey--      }| Their Officers and Men saved.\n  William Carter--        | Drove from     | Carpenter and twenty-three\n  Thomas Blake--          | Bristol--      | Captain and twenty-five Men\n  George Hawes--          | Nore--         | Officers and Men lost.\nThe Van Guard, a Second Rate, was over-set at Chatham, but no Men lost,\nthe Ship not being fitted out.\n_Of the Damage to the Navy_\nThis is a short but terrible Article, there was one Ship called the\n_York_, which was lost about 3 days before the great Storm off of\n_Harwich_, but most of the Men were saved.\nThe loss immediately sustain'd in the Royal Navy during the Storm, is\nincluded in the List hereunto annex'd, as appears from the Navy Books.\nThe damage done to the Ships that were sav'd, is past our Power to\ncompute. The Admiral, Sir _Cloudesley Shovel_ with the great Ships, had\nmade sail but the day before out of the _Downs_, and were taken with the\nStorm as they lay at or near the _Gunfleet_, where they being well\nprovided with Anchors and Cables, rid it out, tho' in great extremity,\nexpecting death every minute.\nThe loss of small Vessels hir'd into the Service, and tending the Fleet,\nis not included in this, nor can well be, several such Vessels, and some\nwith Soldiers on Board, being driven away to Sea, and never heard of\nmore.\nThe loss of the _Light-House_, call'd the _Eddystone_ at _Plymouth_, is\nanother Article, of which we never heard any particulars other than\nthis; that at Night it was standing, and in the Morning all the upper\npart from the Gallery was blown down, and all the People in it perished,\nand by a particular Misfortune, Mr. _Winstanly_, the Contriver of it, a\nPerson whose loss is very much regreted by such as knew him, as a very\nuseful Man to his Country: The loss of that _Light-House_ is also a\nconsiderable Damage, as 'tis very doubtful whether it will be ever\nattempted again, and as it was a great Security to the Sailors, many a\ngood Ship having been lost there in former Times.\nIt was very remarkable, that, as we are inform'd, at the same time the\n_Light-House_ abovesaid was blown down, the Model of it in Mr.\n_Windstanly_'s House at _Littlebury_ in _Essex_, above 200 Miles from\nthe _Light-House_, fell down, and was broken to pieces.\nThere are infinite Stories of like nature with these, the Disasters at\nSea are full of a vast variety, what we have recommended to the view of\nthe World in this History, may stand as an Abridgment; and the Reader is\nonly to observe that these are the short Representations, by which he\nmay guess at the most dreadful Night, these parts of the World ever saw.\nTo relate all Things, that report Furnishes us with, would be to make\nthe story exceed common probability, and look like Romance.\nTis a sad and serious Truth, and this part of it is preserv'd to\nPosterity to assist them in reflecting on the Judgments of God, and\nhanding them on for the Ages to come.\n_Of the_ Earthquake\nTho' this was some time after the Storm, yet as the Accounts of the\nStorm bring it with them in the following Letters, we cannot omit it.\nThe two following Letters are from the respective Ministers of _Boston_\nand _Hull_, and relate to the Account of the Earthquake, which was felt\nover most part of the County of _Lincoln_ and the East Riding of\n_Yorkshire_.\nThe Letter from _Hull_, from the Reverend Mr. _Banks_, Minister of the\nPlace, is very particular, and deserves intire Credit, both from the\nextraordinary Character of the worthy Gentleman who writes it, and from\nits exact Correspondence with other Accounts.\n    I receiv'd yours, wherein you acquaint me with a Design that (I\n    doubt not) will meet with that Applause and Acceptance from the\n    World which it deserves; but am in no capacity to be any way\n    serviceable to it my self, the late Hurricane having more frighted\n    than hurt us in these Parts. I doubt not but your Intelligence in\n    general from the Northern Parts of the Nation, supplies you with as\n    little Matter as what you have from these hereabouts, it having been\n    less violent and mischievous that way. Some Stacks of Chimneys were\n    over-turn'd here, and from one of them a little Child of my own was\n    (thanks be to God) almost miraculously preserv'd, with a Maid that\n    lay in the Room with him. I hear of none else this way that was so\n    much as in danger, the Storm beginning here later than I perceive it\n    did in some other Places, its greatest Violence being betwixt 7 and\n    8 in the Morning, when most People were stirring.\n    The Earthquake, which the Publick Accounts mention to have happen'd\n    at _Hull_ and _Lincoln_ upon the 28th _ult._ was felt here by some\n    People about 6 in the Evening, at the same time that People there,\n    as well as at _Grantham_ and other Places, perceived it. We have\n    some flying Stories about it which look like fabulous, whose Credit\n    therefore I wou'd not be answerable for; as, that upon\n    _Lincoln-Heath_ the Ground was seen to open, and Flashes of Fire to\n    issue out of the Chasm.\n    I doubt this Account will hardly be thought worth the Charge of\n    Passage: Had there been any thing else of note, you had been very\n    readily serv'd by,\n              SIR, _Your Humble Servant_,\n    I am afraid that you will believe me very rude, that yours, which I\n    receiv'd the 12th of _April_, has not sooner receiv'd such an Answer\n    as you expect and desire, and truly I think deserve; for, a Design\n    so generous, as to undertake to transmit to Posterity, A Memorial of\n    the dreadful Effects of the late terrible Tempest (that when God's\n    Judgments are in the World, they may be made so publick, as to\n    ingage the Inhabitants of the Earth to learn Righteousness) ought to\n    receive all possible Encouragement.\n    But the true Reason why I writ no sooner, was, Because, by the most\n    diligent Enquiries I cou'd make, I cou'd not learn what Harm that\n    dreadful Tempest did in the _Humber_; neither indeed can I yet give\n    you any exact Account of it: for, the great Mischief was done in the\n    Night; which was so Pitch-dark, that of above 80 Ships that then rid\n    in the _Humber_, about _Grimsby_ Road, very few escap'd some Loss or\n    other, and none of 'em were able to give a Relation of any body but\n    themselves.\n    The best Account of the Effects of the Storm in the _Humber_, that I\n    have yet met with, I received but Yesterday, from Mr. _Peter Walls_,\n    who is Master of that Watch-Tower, call'd the _Spurn-Light_, at the\n    _Humber_ Mouth, and was present there on the Night of the 26th of\n    _November_, the fatal Night of the Storm.\n    He did verily believe that his Pharos (which is above 20 Yards high)\n    wou'd have been blown down; and the Tempest made the Fire in it burn\n    so vehemently, that it melted down the Iron-bars on which it laid,\n    like Lead; so that they were forced, when the Fire was by this means\n    almost extinguished, to put in new Bars, and kindle the Fire\n    a-fresh, which they kept in till the Morning Light appear'd: And\n    then _Peter Walls_ observed about six or seven and twenty Sail of\n    Ships, all driving about the _Spurn-Head_, some having cut, others\n    broke their Cables, but all disabled, and render'd helpless. These\n    were a part of the two Fleets that then lay in the _Humber_, being\n    put in there by stress of Weather a day or two before, some from\n    _Russia_, and the rest of 'em _Colliers_, to and from _Newcastle_.\n    Of these, three were driven upon an Island call'd the _Den_, within\n    the _Spurn_ in the Mouth of the _Humber_.\n    The first of these no sooner touch'd Ground, but she over-set, and\n    turn'd up her Bottom; out of which, only one of six (the Number of\n    that Ship's Company) was lost, being in the Shrowds: the other five\n    were taken up by the second Ship, who had sav'd their Boat. In this\n    Boat were saved all the Men of the three Ships aforementioned\n    (except as before excepted) and came to Mr. _Walls_'s House, at the\n    _Spurn-Head_, who got them good Fires, and all Accommodations\n    necessary for them in such a Distress. The second Ship having no\n    body aboard, was driven to Sea, with the Violence of the Tempest,\n    and never seen or heard of more. The third, which was then a-ground,\n    was (as he supposes) broken up and driven; for nothing, but some\n    Coals that were in her, was to be seen the next Morning.\n    Another Ship, the Day after, _viz._ the 27th of _November_, was\n    riding in _Grimsby_ Road, and the Ships Company (except two Boys)\n    being gone a-shore, the Ship, with the two Lads in her, drive\n    directly out of _Humber_, and was lost, tho' 'tis verily believ'd\n    the two Boys were saved by one of the _Russia_ Ships, or Convoys.\n    The same Day, in the Morning, one _John Baines_, a _Yarmouth_\n    Master, was in his Ship, riding in _Grimsby_ Road, and by the\n    Violence of the Storm, some other Ships coming foul upon him, part\n    of his Ship was broken down, and was driven towards Sea; whereupon\n    he anchored under _Kilnsey-Land_, and with his Crew came safe\n    a-shore, in his Boat, but the Ship was never seen more.\n    The remainder of the six or seven and twenty Sail aforesaid, being\n    (as was before observed) driven out of the _Humber_, very few, if\n    any of 'em, were ever heard of; and 'tis rationally believ'd, that\n    all, or the most of them, perished. And indeed, altho' the Storm was\n    not so violent here as it was about _Portsmouth_, _Yarmouth_ Roads,\n    and the Southern Coast, yet the Crews of the three Ships\n    above-mentioned declare, that they were never out in so dismal a\n    Night as that was of the 26th of _November_, in which the\n    considerable Fleet aforesaid rid in _Grimsby_ Road in the _Humber_;\n    for most of the 80 Sail broke from their Anchors, and run foul one\n    upon another; but by reason of the Darkness of the Night, they cou'd\n    see very little of the Mischief that was done.\n    This is the best Account I can give you at present of the Effects of\n    the Tempest in the _Humber_; whereas had the Enquiry been made\n    immediately after the Storm was over, a great many more of\n    remarkable Particulars might have been discover'd.\n    As to the Earthquake here, tho' I perceiv'd it not my self (being\n    then walking to visit a sick Parishoner) yet it was so sensibly felt\n    by so many Hundreds, that I cannot in the least question the Truth\n    and Certainty of it.\n    It happen'd here, and in these Parts, upon _Innocent_'s Day, the\n    28th of _December_, being _Tuesday_, about Five of the Clock in the\n    Evening, or thereabout. Soon after I gave as particular Account as I\n    cou'd learn of it, to that ingenious Antiquary Mr. _Thorsby_ of\n    _Leeds_ in _Yorkshire_, but had no time to keep a Copy of my Letter\n    to him, nor have I leisure to transcribe a Copy of this to you,\n    having so constant a Fatigue of Parochial business to attend; nor\n    will my Memory serve me to recollect all the Circumstances of that\n    Earthquake, as I sent them to Mr. _Thoresby_; and possibly he may\n    have communicated that Letter to you, or will upon your least\n    intimation, being a generous Person, who loves to communicate any\n    thing that may be serviceable to the Publick.\n    However, lest I shou'd seem to decline the gratifying your Request,\n    I will recollect, and here set down, such of the Circumstances of\n    that Earthquake as do at present occur to my Memory.\n    It came with a Noise like that of a Coach in the Streets, and\n    mightily shak'd both the Glass Windows, Pewter, _China_ Pots and\n    Dishes, and in some places threw them down off the Shelves on which\n    they stood. It did very little Mischief in this Town, except the\n    throwing down a Piece of one Chimney. Several Persons thought that a\n    great Dog was got under the Chair they sat upon; and others fell\n    from their Seats, for fear of falling. It frighted several Persons,\n    and caus'd 'em for a while to break off their Reading, or Writing,\n    or what they were doing.\n    They felt but one Shake here: but a Gentleman in _Nottinghamshire_\n    told me, that being then lame upon his Bed, he felt three Shakes,\n    like the three Rocks of a Cradle, to and again.\n    At _Laceby_ in _Lincolnshire_, and in several other Parts of that\n    County, as well as of the Counties of _York_ and _Nottingham_, the\n    Earthquake was felt very sensibly; and particularly at _Laceby_\n    aforesaid. There happen'd this remarkable Story.\n    On _Innocent_'s Day, in the Afternoon, several Morrice-Dancers came\n    thither from _Grimsby_; and after they had Danc'd and play'd their\n    Tricks, they went towards _Alesby_, a little Town not far off: and\n    as they were going about Five a Clock, they felt two such terrible\n    Shocks of the Earth, that they had much ado to hold their Feet, and\n    thought the Ground was ready to open, and swallow 'em up. Whereupon\n    thinking that God was angry at 'em for playing the Fool, they\n    return'd immediately to _Laceby_ in a great Fright, and the next Day\n    home, not daring to pursue their intended Circuit and Dancing.\n    I think 'tis the Observation of Dr. _Willis_, that upon an\n    Earthquake the Earth sends forth noisome Vapours which infect the\n    Air, as the Air does our Bodies: and accordingly it has prov'd here,\n    where we have ever since had a most sickly time, and the greatest\n    Mortality that has been in this Place for 15 Years last past: and so\n    I believe it has been over the greatest part of _England_. This,\n    SIR, is the best Account I can give you of the Earthquake, which had\n    com'd sooner, but that I was desirous to get likewise the best\n    Account I cou'd of the Effects of the Storm in the _Humber_. My\n    humble Service to the Undertakers: and if in any thing I am capable\n    to serve them or you, please freely to command,\n      SIR, _Your most humble Servant_,\nWe have a farther Account of this in two Letters from Mr. _Thoresby_,\nF.R.S. and written to the Publisher of the Philosophical Transactions,\nand printed in their Monthly Collection, No. 289. as follows, which is\nthe same mentioned by Mr. _Banks_.\n_Part of two Letters from Mr._ Thoresby, F.R.S. _to the Publisher,\nconcerning an Earthquake, which happen'd in some Places of the North of_\nEngland, _the 28th of_ December 1703.\n    You have heard, no doubt, of the late _Earthquake_ that affected\n    some part of the North, as the dreadful Storm did the South. It\n    being most observable at _Hull_, I was desirous of an Account from\n    thence that might be depended upon; and therefore writ to the very\n    obliging Mr. _Banks_, Prebendary of _York_, who being Vicar of\n    _Hull_, was the most suitable Person I knew to address my self unto:\n    and he being pleased to favour me with a judicious Account of it, I\n    will venture to communicate it to you, with his pious Reflection\n    thereupon. 'As to the Earthquake you mention, it was felt here on\n    _Tuesday_ the 28th of the last Month, which was _Childermas_ Day,\n    about three or four Minutes after Five in the Evening. I confess I\n    did not feel it my self; for I was at that moment walking to visit a\n    sick Gentleman, and the Noise in the Streets, and my quick Motion,\n    made it impossible, I believe, for me to feel it: but it was so\n    almost universally felt, that there can be no manner of doubt of the\n    Truth of it.\n    Mr. _Peers_, my Reader, (who is an ingenious good Man) was then at\n    his Study, and Writing; but the heaving up of his Chair and his\n    Desk, the Shake of his Chamber, and the rattling of his Windows, did\n    so amaze him, that he was really affrighted, and was forc'd for a\n    while to give over his Work: and there are twenty such Instances\n    amongst Tradesmen, too tedious to repeat. My Wife was then in her\n    Closet, and thought her _China_ would have come about her Ears, and\n    my Family felt the Chairs mov'd, in which they were sitting by the\n    Kitchen Fire-side, and heard such a Rattle of the Pewter and Windows\n    as almost affrighted them. A Gentlewoman not far off said, her Chair\n    lifted so high, that she thought the great Dog had got under it, and\n    to save her self from falling, slipt off her Chair. I sent to a\n    House where part of a Chimney was shak'd down, to enquire of the\n    particulars; they kept Ale, and being pretty full of Company that\n    they were merry, they did not perceive the Shock, only heard the\n    Pewter and Glass-windows dance; but the Landlady's Mother, who was\n    in a Chamber by her self, felt the Shock so violent, that she verily\n    believed the House to be coming down (as part of the Chimney afore\n    mention'd did at the same Moment) and cried out in a Fright, and had\n    fall'n, but that she catched hold of a Table. It came and went\n    suddenly, and was attended with a Noise like the Wind, though there\n    was then a perfect Calm.'\n    From other Hands I have an Account that it was felt in _Beverly_,\n    and other Places; at _South Dalton_ particularly, where the Parson's\n    Wife (my own Sister) being alone in her Chamber, was sadly frighted\n    with the heaving up of the Chair she sat in, and the very sensible\n    Shake of the Room, especially the Windows, _&c._ A Relation of mine,\n    who is a Minister near _Lincoln_, being then at a Gentleman's House\n    in the Neighbourhood, was amaz'd at the Moving of the Chairs they\n    sat upon, which was so violent, he writes every Limb of him was\n    shaken; I am told also from a true Hand, that so nigh us as _Selby_,\n    where Mr. _Travers_, a Minister, being in his Study writing, was\n    interrupted much as Mr. _Peers_ above-mentioned; which minds me of\n    worthy Mr. _Bank_'s serious Conclusion. 'And now I hope you will not\n    think it unbecoming my Character to make this Reflection upon it,\n    _viz._ that Famines, Pestilences and Earthquakes, are joyned by our\n    Blessed Saviour, as portending future Calamities, and particularly\n    the Destruction of _Jerusalem_ and the _Jewish_ State; if not the\n    End of the World, St. _Matth._ 24. 7. And if, as Philosophers\n    observe, those gentler Convulsions within the Bowels of the Earth,\n    which give the Inhabitants but an easie Jog, do usually portend the\n    Approach of some more dreadful Earthquake; then surely we have\n    Reason to fear the worst, because I fear we so well deserve it, and\n    pray God of his infinite Mercy to avert his future Judgments.'\n    Since my former Account of the Earthquake at _Hull_, my Cousin\n    _Cookson_ has procured to me the following Account from his Brother,\n    who is a Clergyman near _Lincoln_, viz, That he, being about Five in\n    the Evening, _December_ the 20th past, set with a neighbouring\n    Minister at his House about a Mile from _Navenby_, they were\n    surpriz'd with a sudden Noise, as if it had been of two or three\n    Coaches driven furiously down the Yard, whereupon the Servant was\n    sent to the Door, in Expectation of some Strangers; but they quickly\n    perceived what it was, by the shaking of the Chairs they sat upon;\n    they could perceive the very Stones move: the greatest Damage was to\n    the Gentlewoman of the House, who was put into such a Fright, that\n    she miscarried two Days after. He writes, they were put into a\n    greater Fright upon the Fast-day; when there was so violent a Storm,\n    they verily thought the Church would have fallen upon them. We had\n    also at _Leedes_ a much greater Storm the Night preceding the Fast,\n    and a stronger Wind that Day, than when the fatal Storm was in the\n    South; but a good Providence timed this well, to quicken our too\n    cold Devotions.\n_Of remarkable_ Deliverances\nAs the sad and remarkable Disasters of this Terrible Night were full of\na Dismal Variety, so the Goodness of Providence, in the many remarkable\nDeliverances both by Sea and Land, have their Share in this Account, as\nthey claim an equal Variety and Wonder.\nThe Sense of extraordinary Deliverances, as it is a Mark of Generous\nChristianity, so I presume 'tis the best Token, that a good Use is made\nof the Mercies receiv'd.\nThe Persons, who desire a thankful Acknowledgement should be made to\ntheir Merciful Deliverer, and the Wonders of his Providence remitted to\nPosterity, shall never have it to say, that the Editor of this Book\nrefus'd to admit so great a Subject a Place in these Memoirs; and\ntherefore, with all imaginable Freedom, he gives the World the\nParticulars from their own Mouths, and under their own Hands.\nThe first Account we have from the Reverend Mr. _King_, Lecturer at St.\n_Martins_ in the Fields, as follows.\n    The short Account I now send to shew the Providence of God in the\n    late Dreadful Storm, (if yet it comes not too late) I had from the\n    Mouth of the Gentleman himself, Mr. _Woodgate Gisser_ by Name, who\n    is a Neighbour of mine, living in St. _Martin's-street_ in the\n    Parish of St. _Martins_ in the Fields, and a Sufferer in the common\n    Calamity; is as follows, _viz._\n    Between Two and Three of the Clock in the Morning, my Neighbour's\n    Stack of Chimneys fell, and broke down the Roof of my Garret into\n    the Passage going up and down Stairs; upon which, I thought it\n    convenient to retire into the Kitchen with my Family; where we had\n    not been above a Quarter of an Hour, before my Wife sent her Maid to\n    fetch some Necessaries out of a Back Parlour Closet, and as she had\n    shut the Door, and was upon her Return, the very same Instant my\n    Neighbour's Stack of Chimneys, on the other Side of the House, fell\n    upon my Stack, and beat in the Roof, and so drove down the several\n    Floors through the Parlour into the Kitchen, where the Maid was\n    buried near Five Hours in the Rubbish, without the least Damage or\n    Hurt whatsoever: This her miraculous Preservation was occasion'd\n    (as, I afterwards with Surprize found) by her falling into a small\n    Cavity near the Bed, and afterwards (as she declar'd) by her\n    creeping under the Tester that lay hollow by Reason of some Joices\n    that lay athwart each other, which prevented her perishing in the\n    said Rubbish: About Eight in the Morning, when I helped her out of\n    the Ruins, and asked her how she did, and why she did not cry out\n    for Assistance, since she was not (as I suppos'd she had been) dead,\n    and so to let me know she was alive; her Answer was, that truly she\n    for her Part had felt no Hurt, and was not the least affrighted, but\n    lay quiet; and which is more, even slumbred until then.\n    The Preservation of my self, and the rest of my Family, about Eleven\n    in Number, was, next to the Providence of God, occasion'd by our\n    running into a Vault almost level with the Kitchen upon the Noise\n    and Alarm of the Falling of the Chimneys, which breaking through\n    three Floors, and about two Minutes in passing, gave us the\n    Opportunities of that Retreat. Pray accept of this short Account\n    from\n      _Your Humble Servant, and Lecturer_,\nAnother is from a Reverend Minister at ---- whose Name is to his Letter\nas follows.\n    I thank you for your charitable Visit not long since; I could have\n    heartily wish'd your Business would have permitted you to have made\n    a little longer Stay at the parsonage, and then you might have taken\n    a stricter View of the Ruins by the late terrible Wind. Seeing you\n    are pleas'd to desire from me a more particular Account of that sad\n    Disaster; I have for your fuller Satisfaction sent you the best I am\n    able to give; and if it be not so perfect, and so exact a one, as\n    you may expect, you may rely upon me it is a true, and a faithful\n    one, and that I do not impose upon you, or the World in the least in\n    any Part of the following Relation. I shall not trouble you with the\n    Uneasiness the Family was under all the fore Part of the Evening,\n    even to a Fault, as I thought, and told them, I did not then\n    apprehend the Wind to be much higher than it had been often on other\n    Times; but went to Bed, hoping we were more afraid than we needed to\n    have been: when in Bed, we began to be more sensible of it, and lay\n    most of the Night awake, dreading every Blast till about Four of the\n    Clock in the Morning, when to our thinking it seemed a little to\n    abate; and then we fell asleep, and slept till about Six of the\n    Clock, at which Time my Wife waking, and calling one of her Maids to\n    rise, and come to the Children, the Maid rose, and hasten'd to her;\n    she had not been up above Half an Hour, but all on the sudden we\n    heard a prodigious Noise, as if part of the House had been fallen\n    down; I need not tell you the Consternation we were all in upon this\n    Alarm; in a Minutes Time, I am sure, I was surrounded with all my\n    Infantry, that I thought I should have been overlay'd; I had not\n    even Power to stir one Limb of me, much less to rise, though I could\n    not tell how to lie in Bed. The Shrieks and the Cries of my dear\n    Babes perfectly stun'd me; I think I hear them still in my Ears, I\n    shall not easily, I am confident, if ever, forget them. There I lay\n    preaching Patience to those little Innocent Creatures, till the Day\n    began to appear.\n    _Preces & Lachrimc\u00e6_, Prayers and Tears, the Primitive Christians\n    Weapons, we had great Plenty of to defend us withal; but had the\n    House all fallen upon our Heads, we were in that Fright as we could\n    scarce have had Power to rise for the present, or do any thing for\n    our Security. Upon our rising, and sending a Servant to view what\n    she could discover, we soon understood that the Chimney was fallen\n    down, and that with its Fall it had beaten down a great part of that\n    End of the House, _viz._ the Upper Chamber, and the Room under it,\n    which was the Room I chose for my Study: The Chimney was thought as\n    strong, and as well built as most in the Neighbourhood; and it\n    surpriz'd the Mason (whom I immediately sent for to view it) to see\n    it down: but that which was most surprizing to me, was the Manner of\n    its Falling; had it fallen almost any other Way than that it did, it\n    must in all Likelihood have killed the much greater part of my\n    Family, for no less than Nine of us lay at that End of the House, my\n    Wife and Self, and Five Children, and Two Servants, a Maid, and a\n    Man then in my Pay, and so a Servant, though not by the Year: The\n    Bed my Eldest Daughter and the Maid lay in joyned as near as\n    possible to the Chimney, and it was within a very few Yards of the\n    Bed that we lay in; so that as _David_ said to _Jonathan_, there\n    seem'd to be but one single Step between Death and us, to all\n    outward Appearance. One Thing I cannot omit, which was very\n    remarkable and surprizing: It pleased God so to order it, that in\n    the Fall of the House two great Spars seem'd to fall so as to pitch\n    themselves on an End, and by that Means to support that other Part\n    of the House which adjoined to the Upper Chamber; or else in all\n    Likelihood, that must also have fallen too at the same Time. The\n    Carpenter (whom we sent for forthwith) when he came, ask'd who\n    plac'd those two Supporters, supposing somebody had been there\n    before him; and when he was told, those two Spars in the Fall so\n    plac'd themselves, he could scarce believe it possible; it was done\n    so artificially, that he declar'd, they scarce needed to have been\n    removed.\n    In short, Sir, it is impossible to describe the Danger we were in;\n    you your self was an Eye-witness of some Part of what is here\n    related; and I once more assure you, the whole Account I have here\n    given you is true, and what can be attested by the whole Family.\n    None of all those unfortunate Persons who are said to have been\n    killed with the Fall of a Chimney, could well be much more expos'd\n    to Danger than we were; it is owing wholly to that watchful\n    Providence to whom we all are indebted for every Minute of our\n    Lives, that any of us escaped; none but he who never sleeps nor\n    slumbers could have secured us. I beseech Almighty God to give us\n    All that due Sense as we ought to have of so great and so general\n    Calamity; that we truly repent us of those Sins that have so long\n    provoked his Wrath against us, and brought down so heavy a Judgment\n    as this upon us. O that we were so wise as to consider it, and to\n    _sin no more lest a worse thing come upon us_! That it may have this\n    happy Effect upon all the sinful Inhabitants of this Land is, and\n    shall be, the Dayly Prayer of Dear Sir,\n      _Your real Friend and Servant_,\nAnother Account from a Reverend Minister in _Dorsetshire_, take as\nfollows, _viz._\n    As you have desired an Account of the Disasters occasion'd by the\n    late Tempest, (which I can assure you was in these Parts very\n    Terrible) so I think my self oblig'd to let you know, that there was\n    a great Mixture of Mercy with it: For though the Hurricane was\n    frightful, and very mischievous, yet God's gracious Providence was\n    therein very remarkable, in restraining its Violence from an\n    universal Destruction: for then there was a Commotion of the\n    Elements of Air, Earth and Water, which then seemed to outvie each\n    other in Mischief; for (in _David_'s Expression, 2 _Sam._ 22. 8.)\n    _The Earth trembled and quak'd, the Foundations of the Heavens mov'd\n    and shook, because God was angry_: and yet, when all was given over\n    for lost, we found our selves more scar'd than hurt; for our Lives\n    was given us for a Prey, and the Tempest did us only so much Damage,\n    as to make us sensible that it might have done us a great deal more,\n    had it not been rebuk'd by the God of Mercy; the Care of whose\n    Providence has been visibly seen in our wonderful Preservations. My\n    Self and Three more of this Parish were then strangely rescued from\n    the Grave: I narrowly escaped with my Life, where I apprehended\n    nothing of Danger; for going out about Midnight to give Orders to my\n    Servants to secure the House, and Reeks of Corn and Furses from\n    being blown all away; as soon as I mov'd out of the Place were I\n    stood, I heard something of a great Weight fall close behind me, and\n    a little after going out with a Light, to see what it was, I found\n    it to be the great Stone which covered the Top of my Chimney to keep\n    out the Wet; it was almost a Yard square, and very thick, weighing\n    about an Hundred and Fifty Pound. It was blown about a Yard off from\n    the Chimney, and fell Edge-long, and cut the Earth, about four\n    Inches deep, exactly between my Foot-steps; and a little after,\n    whilst sitting under the Clavel of my Kitchen Chimney, and reaching\n    out my Arm for some Fewel to mend the Fire, I was again strangely\n    preserved from being knock'd on the Head by a Stone of great Weight;\n    it being about a Foot long, Half a Foot broad, and two Inches thick:\n    for as soon as I had drawn in my Arm, I felt something brush against\n    my Elbow, and presently I heard the Stone fall close by my Foot, a\n    third Part of which was broken off by the Violence of the Fall, and\n    skarr'd my Ancle, but did not break the Skin; it had certainly\n    killed me, had it fallen while my Arm was extended. The Top of my\n    Wheat Rick was blown off, and some of the Sheaves were carried a\n    Stones Cast, and with that Violence, that one of them, at that\n    Distance, struck down one _Daniel Fookes_ a late Servant of the Lady\n    _Napier_, and so forceably, that he was taken up dead, and to all\n    Appearance remain'd so a great while; but at last was happily\n    recover'd to Life again. His Mother, poor Widow, was at the same\n    time more fatally threatned at Home, and her Bed had certainly\n    prov'd her Grave, had not the first Noise awaken'd and scar'd her\n    out of Bed; and she was scarce gotten to the Door, when the House\n    fell all in: The Smith's Wife likewise being scar'd at such a Rate,\n    leapt out of Bed, with the little Child in her Arms, and ran hastily\n    out of Doors naked, without Hose or Shooes, to a Neighbour's House;\n    and by that hasty Flight, both their Lives were wonderfully\n    preserved. The Sheets of Lead on _Lytton_ Church, were rolled up\n    like Sheets of Parchment, and blown off to a great Distance. At\n    _Strode_, a large Apple Tree, being about a Foot in Square, was\n    broken off cleverly like a Stick, about four Foot from the Root, and\n    carried over an Hedge about ten Foot high; and cast, as if darted,\n    (with the Trunk forward) above fourteen Yards off. And I am credibly\n    inform'd, that at _Ellwood_ in the Parish of _Abbotsbury_, a large\n    Wheat Rick (belonging to one _Jolyffe_) was cleverly blown, with its\n    Staddle, off from the Stones, and set down on the Ground in very\n    good Order. I would fain know of the Atheist what mov'd his\n    _Omnipotent Matter_ to do such Mischief, _&c._\n      Your Affectionate Friend and Servant,\n      Jacob Cole, _Rect. of_ Swyre in County of _Dorset_.\nThis Account is very remarkable, and well attested, and the Editor of\nthis Collection can vouch to the Reputation of the Relators, tho' not to\nthe Particulars of the Story.\n_A great Preservation in the late Storm_\n    About Three of the Clock in the Morning, the Violence of the Wind\n    blew down a Stack of Chimneys belonging to the dwelling House of Dr.\n    _Gideon Harvey_, (situate in St. _Martin_'s Lane over against the\n    Street End) on the back Part of the next House, wherein dwells Mr.\n    _Robert Richards_ an Apothecary, at the Sign of the Unicorn; and\n    Capt. _Theodore Collier_ and his Family lodges in the same. The\n    Chimney fell with that Force as made them pierce thro' the Roofs and\n    all the Floors, carrying them down quite to the Ground. The two\n    Families, consisting of Fourteen, Men, Women, and Children, besides\n    Three that came in from the next House, were at that Instant\n    dispos'd of as follows, a Footman that us'd to lie in the back\n    Garret, had not a Quarter of an Hour before remov'd himself into the\n    fore Garret, by which means he escap'd the Danger: In the Room under\n    that lay Capt. _Collier_'s Child, of Two Months old, in Bed with the\n    Nurse, and a Servant Maid lay on the Bed by her; the Nurse's Child\n    lying in a Cribb by the Bed-side, which was found, with the Child\n    safe in it, in the Kitchen, where the Nurse and Maid likewise found\n    themselves; their Bed being shatter'd in Pieces, and they a little\n    bruis'd by falling down Three Stories: Capt. _Collier_'s Child was\n    in about Two Hours found unhurt in some Pieces of the Bed and\n    Curtains, which had fallen through Two Floors only, and hung on some\n    broken Rafters in that Place, which was the Parlour: In the Room\n    under This, being one Pair of Stairs from the Street, and two from\n    the Kitchen, was Capt. _Collier_ in his Bed, and his Wife just by\n    the Bed-side, and her Maid a little behind her, who likewise found\n    her self in the Kitchin a little bruis'd, and ran out to cry for\n    Help for her Master and Mistress, who lay buried under the Ruins:\n    Mrs. _Collier_ was, by the timely Aid of Neighbours who remov'd the\n    Rubbish from her, taken out in about Half an Hours Time, having\n    receiv'd no Hurt but the Fright, and an Arm a little bruis'd: Capt.\n    _Collier_ in about Half an Hour more was likewise taken out unhurt.\n    In the Parlour were sitting Mr. _Richards_ with his Wife, the Three\n    Neighbours, and the rest of his Family, a little Boy of about a Year\n    old lying in the Cradle, they all run out at the first Noise, and\n    escap'd, Mrs. _Richards_ staying a little longer than the rest, to\n    pull the Cradle with her child in it along with her, but the House\n    fell too suddenly on it, and buried the Child under the Ruins, a\n    Rafter fell on her Foot, and bruis'd it a little, at which she\n    likewise made her Escape, and brought in the Neighbours, who soon\n    uncovered the Head of the Cradle, and cutting it off, took the Child\n    out alive and well. This wonderful Preservation being worthy to be\n    transmitted to Posterity, we do attest to be true in every\n    Particular. Witness our Hands,\n      _London_,       _Theo. Collier._\n      Nov. 27. 1703.  _Robert Richards._\nThese Accounts of like Nature are particularly attested by Persons of\nknown Reputation and Integrity.\n    In order to promote the good Design of your Book, in perpetuating\n    the Memory of God's signal Judgment on this Nation, by the late\n    dreadful Tempest of Wind, which has hurl'd so many Souls into\n    Eternity; and likewise his Providence in the miraculous Preservation\n    of several Persons Lives, who were expos'd to the utmost Hazards in\n    that Hurricane: I shall here give you a short but true Instance of\n    the latter, which several Persons can witness besides my self; and\n    if you think proper may insert the same in the Book you design for\n    that Purpose; which is as follows. At the _Saracen_'s Head in\n    _Friday_ Street, a Country Lad lodging three Pair of Stairs next the\n    Roof of the House, was wonderfully preserv'd from Death; for about\n    Two a Clock that _Saturday_ Morning the 27th of _November_, (which\n    prov'd fatal to so many) there fell a Chimney upon the Roof, under\n    which he lay, and beat it down through the Ceiling (the Weight of\n    the Tiles, Bricks, _&c._ being judged by a Workman to be about Five\n    Hundred Weight) into the Room, fell exactly between the Beds Feet\n    and Door of the Room, which are not Two Yards distance from each\n    other, it being but small: the sudden Noise awaking the Lad, he\n    jumps out of Bed endeavouring to find the Door, but was stopt by the\n    great Dust and falling of more Bricks, _&c._ and finding himself\n    prevented, in this Fear he got into Bed again, and remain'd there\n    till the Day Light, (the Bricks and Tiles still falling\n    between-whiles about his Bed) and then got up without any Hurt, or\n    so much as a Tile or Brick falling on the Bed; the only thing he\n    complain'd of to me, was his being almost choak'd with Dust when he\n    got out of Bed, or put his Head out from under the Cloaths: There\n    was a great Weight of Tiles and Bricks, which did not break through,\n    as the Workmen inform me, just over the Beds Tester, enough to have\n    crush'd him to Death, if they had fallen: Thus he lay safe among the\n    Dangers that threatned him, whilst wakeful Providence preserv'd him.\n    And SIR, if this be worthy your taking Notice of, I am ready to\n    justify the same. In Witness whereof, here is my Name,\n_A great Preservation in the late Storm_\n    _William Phelps_ and _Frances_ his Wife, living at the Corner of\n    _Old Southampton Buildings_, over against _Gray's-Inn Gate_ in\n    _Holborn_, they lying up three pair of Stairs, in the Backroom, that\n    was only lath'd and plaister'd, he being then very ill, she was\n    forc'd to lie in a Table-Bed in the same Room: about One a Clock in\n    the Morning, on the 27th of _November_ last, the Wind blew down a\n    Stack of Chimneys of seven Funnels that stood very high; which broke\n    through the Roof, and fell into the Room, on her Bed; so that she\n    was buried alive, as one may say: she crying out, _Mr._ Phelps,\n    _Mr._ Phelps, _the House is fall'n upon me_, there being so much on\n    her that one could but just hear her speak; a Coachman and a Footman\n    lying on the same Floor, I soon call'd them to my Assistance. We all\n    fell to work, tho' we stood in the greatest Danger; and through the\n    Goodness of God we did take her out, without the least hurt; neither\n    was any of us hurt, tho' there was much fell after we took her out.\n    And when we took the Bricks off the Bed the next Morning, we found\n    the Frame of the Bed on which she lay broke all to pieces.\n      _William Phelps._\n    _Another great Preservation_\n    Mr. _John Hanson_, Register of _Eaton College_, being at _London_\n    about his Affairs, and lying that dreadful Night, _Nov._ 26, at the\n    _Bell-Savage Inn_ on _Ludgate Hill_, was, by the Fall of a Stack of\n    Chimneys (which broke through the Roof, and beat down two Floors\n    above him, and also that in which he lay) carried in his Bed down to\n    the Ground, without the least hurt, his Cloaths, and every thing\n    besides in the Room, being buried in the Rubbish; it having pleased\n    God so to order it, that just so much of the Floor and Ceiling of\n    the Room (from which he fell) as covered his Bed, was not broken\n    down. Of this great Mercy he prays he may live for ever mindful, and\n    be for ever thankful to Almighty God.\n    The Design of your Collecting the remarkable Accidents of the late\n    Storm coming to my Hands, I thought my self obliged to take this\n    Opportunity of making a publick Acknowledgment of the wonderful\n    Providence of Heaven to me, namely, the Preservation of my only\n    Child from imminent Danger.\n    Two large Stacks of Chimneys, containing each five Funnels, beat\n    through the Roof, in upon the Bed where she lay, without doing her\n    the least Harm, the Servant who lay with her being very much\n    bruised. There were several Loads of Rubbish upon the Bed before my\n    Child was taken out of it.\n    This extraordinary Deliverance I desire always thankfully to\n    remember.\n    I was so nearly touch'd by this Accident, that I could not take so\n    much notice as I intended of this Storm; yet I observ'd the Wind\n    gradually to encrease from One a Clock till a Quarter after Five, or\n    thereabouts: at which time it seem'd to be at the highest; when\n    every Gust did not only return with greater Celerity, but also with\n    more Force.\n    From about a Quarter before Six it sensibly decreas'd. I went often\n    to the Door, at which times I observ'd, that every Gust was preceded\n    by small Flashes, which, to my Observation, did not dart\n    perpendicularly, but seem'd rather to skim along the Surface of the\n    Ground; nor did they appear to be of the same kind with the common\n    Light'ning Flashes.\n    I must confess I cannot help thinking that the Earth it self\n    suffer'd some Convulsion; and that for this Reason, because several\n    Springs, for the space of 48 Hours afterwards, were very muddy,\n    which were never known to be so by any Storm of Wind or Rain before:\n    nor indeed is it possible, they lying so low, could be affected by\n    any thing less than a Concussion of the Earth it self.\n    How far these small Hints may be of use to the more ingenious\n    Enquirers into this matter, I shall humbly leave to their\n    Consideration, and subscribe my self,\n      SIR, _Your humble Servant_,\n                _Apothecary in_ Jermyn _Street_, _near_ St. James's.\n    This comes to let you know that I received yours in the _Downs_, for\n    which I thank you. I expected to have seen you in _London_ before\n    now, had we not met with a most violent Storm in our way to\n    _Chatham_. On the 27th of the last Month, about Three of the Clock\n    in the Morning, we lost all our Anchors and drove to Sea: about Six\n    we lost our Rother, and were left in a most deplorable condition to\n    the merciless Rage of the Wind and Seas: we also sprung a Leak, and\n    drove 48 Hours expecting to perish. But it pleased God to give us a\n    wonderful Deliverance, scarce to be parallell'd in History; for\n    about Midnight we were drove into shoul Water, and soon after our\n    Ship struck upon the Sands: the Sea broke over us, we expected every\n    minute that she would drop to pieces, and that we should all be\n    swallowed up in the Deep; but in less than two hours time we drove\n    over the Sands, and got (without Rother or Pilot, or any Help but\n    Almighty God's) into this Place, where we run our Ship on shore, in\n    order to save our Lives: but it has pleased God also, far beyond our\n    expectation, to save our Ship, and bring us safe off again last\n    Night. We shall remain here a considerable while to refit our Ship,\n    and get a new Rother. Our Deliverance is most remarkable, that in\n    the middle of a dark Night we should drive over a Sand where a Ship\n    that was not half our Bigness durst not venture to come in the Day;\n    and then, without knowing where we were, drive into a narrow place\n    where we have saved both Lives and Ship. I pray God give us all\n    Grace to be thankful, and never forget so great a mercy.\n      _Your affectionate Friend and humble Servant_,\n      _Russell_, at _Helversluce_ in\n    According to the publick Notice, I send you two or three\n    Observations of mine upon the late dreadful Tempest: As,\n    1. In the Parish of St. _Mary Cray, Kent_, a poor Man, with his Wife\n    and Child, were but just gone out of their Bed, when the Head of\n    their House fell in upon it; which must have kill'd them.\n    2. A great long Stable in the Town, near the Church, was blown off\n    the Foundation entirely at one sudden Blast, from the West-side to\n    the East, and cast out into the High-way, over the Heads of five\n    Horses, and a Carter feeding them at the same time, and not one of\n    them hurt, nor the Rack or Manger touch'd, which are yet standing to\n    the Admiration of all Beholders.\n    3. As the Church at _Heyes_ received great Damage, so the Spire,\n    with one Bell in it, were blown away over the Church yard.\n    4. The Minister of _South-Ash_ had a great Deliverance from a\n    Chimney falling in upon his Bed just as he rose, and hurt only his\n    Feet; as blessed be God, our Lives have been all very miraculously\n    preserv'd, tho' our Buildings every where damag'd. You may depend on\n    all, as certify'd by me,\n      _Vicar of_ Orpington _and St._ Mary Cray.\nThere are an innumerable variety of Deliverances, besides these, which\ndeserve a Memorial to future Ages; but these are noted from the Letters,\nand at the Request of the Persons particularly concern'd.\nParticularly, 'tis a most remarkable Story of a Man belonging to the\n_Mary_, a fourth Rate Man of War, lost upon the _Goodwin Sands_; and\nall the Ship's Company but himself being lost, he, by the help of a\npiece of the broken Ship, got a-board the _Northumberland_; but the\nViolence of the Storm continuing, the _Northumberland_ ran the same fate\nwith the _Mary_, and coming on shore upon the same Sand, was split to\npieces by the Violence of the Sea: and yet this Person, by a singular\nProvidence, was one of the 64 that were delivered by a _Deal Hooker_ out\nof that Ship, all the rest perishing in the Sea.\nA poor Sailor of _Brighthelmston_ was taken up after he had hung by his\nHands and Feet on the top of a Mast 48 hours, the Sea raging so high,\nthat no Boat durst go near him.\nA Hoy run on shore on the Rocks in _Milford_ Haven, and just splitting\nto pieces (as by Captain _Soam_'s Letter) a Boat drove by, being broke\nfrom another Vessel, with no body in it, and came so near the Vessel, as\nthat two Men jumpt into it, and sav'd their Lives: the Boy could not\njump so far, and was drowned.\nFive Sailors shifted three Vessels on an Island near the _Humber_ and\nwere at last sav'd by a Long-boat out of the fourth.\nA Waterman in the River of _Thames_ lying asleep in the Cabbin of a\nBarge, at or near _Black-Fryers_, was driven thro' Bridge in the Storm,\nand the Barge went of her self into the _Tower-Dock_, and lay safe on\nshore; the Man never wak'd, nor heard the Storm, till 'twas Day; and, to\nhis great Astonishment, he found himself safe as above.\nTwo Boys in the _Poultry_ lodging in a Garret or Upper-room, were, by\nthe Fall of Chimneys, which broke thro' the Floors, carried quite to the\nbottom of the Cellar, and receiv'd no Damage at all.\n    At my Return home on _Saturday_ at Night, I receiv'd yours: and\n    having said nothing in my last concerning the Storm, I send this to\n    tell you, that I hear of nothing done by it in this Country that may\n    seem to deserve a particular Remark. Several Houses and Barns were\n    stript of their Thatch, some Chimneys and Gables blown down, and\n    several Stacks of Corn and Hay very much dispers'd; but I hear not\n    of any Persons either kill'd or maim'd. A Neighbour of ours was\n    upon the Ridge of his Barn endeavouring to secure the Thatch, and\n    the Barn at that instant was overturn'd by the Storm; but by the\n    good Providence of God, the Man received little or no harm. I say no\n    more, not knowing of any thing more remarkable. I am sorry that\n    other Places were such great Sufferers, and I pray God avert the\n    like Judgments for the future. I am\n                      _Your real Friend to serve you_,\n    I have no particular Relation to make to you of any Deliverance in\n    the late Storm, more than was common with me to all the rest that\n    were in it: but having, to divert melancholly Thoughts while it\n    lasted, turn'd into Verse the CXLVIII Psalm to the 9th, and\n    afterwards all the Psalm; I give you leave to publish it with the\n    rest of those Memoirs on that Occasion you are preparing for the\n    Press.\n            Henry Squier.\nI. Verse 1, 2\n    _Hallelujah: From Heav'n\n      The tuneful Praise begin;\n    Let Praise to God be giv'n\n        Beyond the Starry Scene:\n        Ye Angels sing\n          His joyful Praise;\n          Your Voices raise\n        Ye swift of Wing._\n    _Praise him, thou radiant Sun,\n      The Spring of all thy Light;\n    Praise him thou changing Moon,\n      And all the Stars of Night:_\n    _Ye Heav'ns declare\n          His glorious Fame;\n          And waves that swim\n        Above the Sphere._\n    _Let all his Praises sing,\n      His Goodness and his Power,\n    For at his Call they spring,\n      And by his Grace endure;\n        That joins 'em fast,\n          The Chain is fram'd,\n          Their Bounds are nam'd,\n        And never past._\n    _Thou Earth his Praise proclaim,\n      Devouring Gulfs and Deeps;\n    Ye Fires, and fire-like Flame,\n      That o'er the Meadows sweeps;\n        Thou rattling Hail,\n          And flaky Snow,\n          And Winds that blow\n        To do his Will._\n    _Ye Prodigies of Earth,\n      And Hills of lesser size,\n    Cedars of nobler Birth,\n      And all ye fruitful Trees;\n        His Praises show\n          All things that move,\n          That fly above,\n        Or creep below._\n    _Monarchs, and ye their Praise,\n      The num'rous Multitude;\n    Ye Judges, Triumphs raise;\n      And all of nobler Blood:\n        Of ev'ry kind,\n          And ev'ry Age,\n          Your Hearts engage,\n        In Praises join'd._\n    _Let all his glorious Name\n      Unite to celebrate;\n    Above the Heaven's his Fame;\n      His Fame that's only great:\n        His Peoples Stay\n          And Praise is He,\n          And e're will be:\n        Hallelujah._\nThe two following Letters, coming from Persons in as great Danger as any\ncould be, are plac'd here, as proper to be call'd Deliverances of the\ngreatest and strangest kind.\n_From on board a Ship blown out of the_ Downs _to_ Norway.\n    I cannot but write to you of the Particulars of our sad and terrible\n    Voyage to this Place. You know we were, by my last, riding safe in\n    the _Downs_, waiting a fair Wind, to make the best of our way to\n    _Portsmouth_, and there to expect the _Lisbon_ Convoy.\n    We had had two terrible Storms, one on the _Friday_ before, and one\n    on _Thursday_; the one the 18th, the other the 25th of _November_:\n    In the last I expected we shou'd have founder'd at an Anchor; for\n    our Ground Tackle being new and very good held us fast, but the Sea\n    broke upon us so heavy and quick, that we were in danger two or\n    three times of Foundring as we rode but, as it pleas'd God we rid it\n    out, we began to think all was over, and the Bitterness of Death was\n    past.\n    There was a great Fleet with us in the _Downs_, and several of them\n    were driven from their Anchors, and made the best of their way out\n    to Sea for fear of going on shore upon the _Goodwin_. the Grand\n    Fleet was just come in from the _Streights_, under Sir _Cloudsly\n    Shovel_; and the Great Ships being design'd for the River, lay to\n    Leeward: Most of the Ships that went out in the Night appear'd in\n    the Morning; and I think there was none known to be lost, but one\n    _Dutch_ Vessel upon the _Goodwin_.\n    But the next Day, being _Friday_, in the Evening, it began to gather\n    to Windward; and as it had blown very hard all Day, at Night the\n    Wind freshen'd, and we all expected a stormy Night. We saw the Men\n    of War struck their Top-masts, and rode with two Cables an-end: so\n    we made all as _snug_ as we could, and prepar'd for the worst.\n    In this condition we rid it out till about 12 a-clock; when, the\n    Fury of the Wind encreasing, we began to see Destruction before us:\n    the Objects were very dreadful on every side; and tho' it was very\n    dark, we had Light enough to see our own Danger, and the Danger of\n    those near us. About One-a-clock the Ships began to drive, and we\n    saw several come by us without a Mast standing, and in the utmost\n    Distress.\n    By Two a-clock we could hear Guns firing in several Parts of this\n    Road, as Signals of Distress; and tho' the Noise was very great with\n    the Sea and Wind, yet we could distinguish plainly, in some short\n    Intervals, the Cries of poor Souls in Extremities.\n    By Four-a-clock we miss'd the _Mary_ and the _Northumberland_, who\n    rid not far from us, and found they were driven from their Anchors;\n    but what became of them, God knows: and soon after a large Man of\n    War came driving down upon us, all her Masts gone, and in a dreadful\n    Condition. We were in the utmost Despair at this sight, for we saw\n    no avoiding her coming thwart _our Haiser_: she drove at last so\n    near us, that I was just gowing to order the Mate to cut away, when\n    it pleas'd God the Ship sheer'd contrary to our Expectation to\n    Windward, and the Man of War, which we found to be the _Sterling\n    Castle_, drove clear off us, not two Ships Lengths to Leeward.\n    It was a Sight full of terrible Particulars, to see a Ship of Eighty\n    Guns and about Six Hundred Men in that dismal Case; she had cut away\n    all her Masts, the Men were all in the Confusions of Death and\n    Despair; she had neither Anchor, nor Cable, nor Boat to help her;\n    the Sea breaking over her in a terrible Manner, that sometimes she\n    seem'd all under Water; and they knew, as well as we that saw her,\n    that they drove by the Tempest directly for the _Goodwin_, where\n    they could expect nothing but Destruction: The Cries of the Men, and\n    the firing their Guns, One by One, every Half Minute for Help,\n    terrified us in such a Manner, that I think we were half dead with\n    the Horror of it.\n    All this while we rid with two Anchors a-head, and in great\n    Distress: To fire Guns for Help, I saw was to no Purpose, for if any\n    Help was to be had, there were so many other Objects for it, that we\n    could not expect it, and the Storm still encreasing.\n    Two Ships, a-head of us, had rid it out till now, which was towards\n    Five in the Morning, when they both drove from their Anchors, and\n    one of them coming foul of a small _Pink_, they both sunk together;\n    the other drove by us, and having one Mast standing, I think it was\n    her Main-Mast, she attempted to spread a little Peak of her Sail,\n    and so stood away before it; I suppose she went away to Sea.\n    At this time, the Raging of the Sea was so violent, and the Tempest\n    doubled its Fury in such a Manner, that my Mate told me, we had\n    better go away to Sea, for 'twould be impossible to ride it out; I\n    was not of his Opinion, but was for cutting my Masts by the Board,\n    which at last we did, and parted with them with as little Damage as\n    could be expected, and we thought she rid easier for it by a great\n    deal; and I believe, had it blown two Hours longer, we should have\n    rid it out, having two new Cables out, and our best Bower and Sheet\n    Anchor down: But about Half an Hour after Five to Six, it blew, if\n    it be possible to conceive it so, as hard again as it had done\n    before, and first our best Bower Anchor came Home, the Mate, who\n    felt it give way, cried out, we are all undone, for the Ship drove;\n    I found it too true, and, upon as short a Consultation as the Time\n    would admit, we concluded to put out to Sea before we were driven\n    too far to Leeward, when it would be impossible to avoid the\n    _Goodwin_.\n    So we slipt our Sheet Cable, and sheering the Ship towards the\n    Shore, got her Head about, and stood away afore it; Sail we had\n    none, nor Mast standing: Our Mate had set up a Jury Missen but no\n    Canvass could bear the Fury of the Wind, yet he fasten'd an old\n    Tarpaulin so as that it did the Office of a Missen and kept us from\n    driving too fast to Leeward.\n    In this Condition we drove out of the _Downs_, and past so near the\n    _Goodwin_, that we could see several great Ships fast a ground, and\n    beating to Pieces. We drove in this desperate Condition till\n    Day-break, without any Abatement of the Storm, and our Men heartless\n    and dispirited, tir'd with the Service of the Night, and every\n    Minute expecting Death.\n    About 8 a Clock, my Mate told me, he perceiv'd the Wind to abate;\n    but it blew still such a Storm, that if we had not had a very tite\n    Ship, she must have founder'd, as we were now farther off at Sea,\n    and by my Guess might be in the mid Way between _Harwich_ and the\n    _Brill_, the Sea we found run longer, and did not break so quick\n    upon us as before, but it ran exceeding high, and we having no Sail\n    to keep us to rights, we lay wallowing in the Trough of the Sea in a\n    miserable Condition: We saw several Ships in the same Condition with\n    our selves, but could neither help them, nor they us; and one we saw\n    founder before our Eyes, and all the People perish'd.\n    Another dismal Object we met with, which was an open Boat full of\n    Men, who, as we may suppose, had lost their Ship; any Man may\n    suppose, what Condition a Boat must be in, if we were in so bad a\n    Case in a good Ship: we were soon tost out of their Sight, and what\n    became of them any one may guess; if they had been within Cables\n    Length of us we could not have help'd them.\n    About Two a Clock in the Afternoon, the Wind encreased again, and we\n    made no doubt it would prove as bad a Night as before; but that Gust\n    held not above Half an Hour.\n    All Night it blew excessive hard, and the next Day, which was\n    Sabbath Day, about Eleven a Clock it abated, but still blew hard:\n    about three it blew something moderately, compar'd with the former;\n    and we got up a Jury Main-Mast, and rigg'd it as well as we could,\n    and with a Main Sail lower'd almost to the Deck, stood at a great\n    Rate afore it all Night and the next Day, and on _Tuesday_ Morning\n    we saw Land, but could not tell where it was; but being not in a\n    Condition to keep the Sea, we run in, and made Signals of Distress;\n    some Pilots came off to us, by whom we were inform'd we had reached\n    the Coast of _Norway_, and having neither Anchor nor Cable on board\n    capable to ride the Ship, a _Norweigian_ Pilot came on board, and\n    brought us into a Creek where we had smooth Water, and lay by till\n    we got Help, Cables, and Anchors, by which means we are safe in\n    Place.\n      _Your Humble Servant_,\n_From on board the_ John and Mary, _riding in_ Yarmouth _Roads during\nthe great Storm, but now in the River of_ Thames.\n    Hearing of your good Design of preserving the Memory of the late\n    Dreadful Storm for the Benefit of Posterity, I cannot let you want\n    the Particulars as happen'd to us on board our Ship.\n    We came over the Bar of _Tinmouth_ about the ---- having had\n    terrible blowing Weather for almost a Week, insomuch that we were\n    twice driven back almost the Length of _Newcastle_, with much\n    Difficulty and Danger we got well over that, and made the\n    _High-land_ about _Cromer_ on the North-side of _Norfolk_; here it\n    blew so hard the _Wednesday_ Night before, that we could not keep\n    the Sea, nor fetch the Roads of _Yarmouth_; but as the Coast of\n    _Norfolk_ was a Weather-shore, we hall'd as close _Cromer_ as we\n    durst lie, the Shore there being very flat; here we rode _Wednesday_\n    and _Thursday_, the 24th and 25th of _November_.\n    We could not reckon our selves safe here, for as this is the most\n    dangerous Place between _London_ and _Newcastle_, and has been\n    particularly fatal to our Colliers, so we were very uneasy; I\n    considered that when such Tempestuous Weather happen'd, as this\n    seem'd to threaten, nothing is more frequent than for the Wind to\n    shift Points; and if it should have blown half the Wind from the\n    South East, as now blew from the South West, we must have gone\n    a-shore there, and been all lost for being embayed; there we should\n    have had no putting out to Sea, nor staying there.\n    This Consideration made me resolve to be gon, and thinking on\n    _Friday_ Morning the Wind slacken'd a little, I weigh'd and stood\n    away for _Yarmouth_ Roads; and with great Boating and Labour got\n    into the Roads about One in the Afternoon, being a little after\n    Flood, we found a very great Fleet in the Roads; there was above\n    Three Hundred Sail of Colliers, not reckoning above Thirty Sail\n    which I left behind me, that rode it out thereabouts, and there was\n    a great Fleet just come from _Russia_, under the Convoy of the\n    _Reserve_ Frigate, and Two other Men of War; and about a Hundred\n    Sail of Coasters, _Hull_-Men, and such small Craft.\n    We had not got to an Anchor, moor'd, and set all to Rights, but I\n    found the Wind freshen'd, the Clouds gather'd, and all look'd very\n    black to Windward; and my Mate told me, he wish'd he had staid where\n    we were, for he would warrant it we had a blowing Night of it.\n    We did what we could to prepare for it, struck our Top-mast, and\n    slung our Yards, made all tite and fast upon Deck; the Night prov'd\n    very dark, and the Wind blew a Storm about Eight a Clock, and held\n    till Ten, when we thought it abated a little, but at Eleven it\n    freshen'd again, and blew very hard; we rid it out very well till\n    Twelve, when we veer'd out more Cable, and in about Half an Hour\n    after, the Wind encreasing, let go our Sheet Anchor; by One a Clock\n    it blew a dreadful Storm, and though our Anchors held very well, the\n    Sea came over us in such a vast Quantity, that we was every Hour in\n    Danger of Foundring: About Two a Clock the Sea fill'd our Boat as\n    she lay upon the Deck, and we was glad to let her go over board for\n    Fear of staving in our Decks: Our Mate would then have cut our Mast\n    by the Board, but I was not willing, and told him, I thought we had\n    better slip our Cables, and go out to Sea, he argued she was a deep\n    Ship, and would not live in the Sea, and was very eager for cutting\n    away the Mast; but I was loth to part with my Mast, and could not\n    tell where to run for Shelter if I lost them.\n    About Three a Clock abundance of Ships drove away, and came by us;\n    some with all their Masts gone, and foul of one another; in a sad\n    Condition my Men said they saw Two founder'd together, but I was in\n    the Cabin, and cannot say I saw it. I saw a _Russia_ Ship come foul\n    of a Collier, and both drove away together out of our Sight, but I\n    am told since the _Russia_ Man sunk by her Side.\n    In this Condition we rid till about Three a Clock, the _Russia_\n    Ships which lay a-head of me, and the Men of War, who lay a-head of\n    them, fir'd their Guns for Help, but 'twas in vain to expect it; the\n    Sea went too high for any Boat to live. About Five, the Wind blew at\n    that prodigious Rate, that there was no Possibility of riding it\n    out, and all the Ships in the Road seem'd to us to drive: Yet still\n    our Anchors held it, and I began to think we should ride it out\n    there, or founder; when a Ship's long Boat came driving against us,\n    and gave such a Shock on the Bow that I thought it must have been a\n    Ship come foul of us, and expected to sink all at once; our Men said\n    there was some people in the Boat, but as the Sea went so high no\n    Man dust stand upon the Fore-castle, so no Body could be sure of it;\n    the Boat stav'd to pieces with the Blow, and went away, some on One\n    Side of us and some on the other; but whether our Cable receiv'd any\n    Damage by it or not we cannot tell, but our Sheet Cable gave Way\n    immediately, and as the other was not able to hold us alone, we\n    immediately drove; we had then no more to do, but to put afore the\n    Wind, which we did: it pleased God by this Time the Tide of Ebb was\n    begun, which something abated the Height of the Sea, but still it\n    went exceeding high; we saw a great many Ships in the same Condition\n    with our selves, and expecting every Moment to sink in the Sea. In\n    this Extremity we drove till Daylight when we found the Wind abated,\n    and we stood in for the Shore, and coming under the Lee of the\n    _Cliff_ near _Scarbro_, we got so much Shelter, as that our small\n    Bower Anchors would ride us.\n    I can give you no Account but this; but sure such a Tempest never\n    was in the World. They say here, that of Eighty Sail in _Grimsby_\n    Road, they can hear of but Sixteen; yet the rest are all blown away,\n    Here is about Twelve or Fourteen Sail of Ships come in to this\n    Place, and more are standing in for the Shore.\nAbundance of other strange Deliverances have been related, but with so\nsmall Authority as we dare not convey them into the World under the same\nCharacter with the rest; and have therefore chose to omit them.\n_The Conclusion_\nThe Editor of this Book has labour'd under some Difficulties in this\nAccount: and one of the chief has been, how to avoid too many\nParticulars, the Crowds of Relations which he has been oblig'd to lay by\nto bring the Story into a Compass tolerable to the Reader.\nAnd tho' some of the Letters inserted are written in a homely Stile, and\nexprest after the Country Fashion from whence they came, the Author\nchose to make them speak their own Language, rather than by dressing\nthem in other Words make the Authors forget they were their own.\nWe receiv'd a Letter, very particular, relating to the Bishop of _Bath_\nand _Wells_, and reflecting upon his Lordship for some Words he spoke,\n_That he had rather have his Brains knock'd out, than_ &c. relating to\nhis Inferiour Clergy. The Gentleman takes the Disaster for a Judgment of\nGod on him: But as in his Letter the Person owns himself the Bishop's\nEnemy, fills his Letter with some Reflexions indecent, at least for us:\nand at last, tho' he dates from _Somerton_, yet baulks setting his Name\nto his Letter: for these Reasons we could not satisfie to record the\nMatter, and leave a Charge on the Name of that unfortunate Gentleman,\nwhich, he being dead, could not answer, and we alive could not prove.\nAnd on these Accounts hope the Reverend Gentleman who sent the Letter\nwill excuse Us.\nAlso we have omitted, tho' our List of Particulars promis'd such a\nthing, An Account of some unthinking Wretches, who pass'd over this\ndreadful Judgment with Banter, Scoffing, and Contempt. 'Tis a Subject\nungrateful to recite, and full of Horror to read; and we had much rather\ncover such Actions with a general Blank in Charity to the Offenders,\nand in hopes of their Amendment.\nOne unhappy Accident I cannot omit, and which is brought us from good\nHands, and happen'd in a Ship homeward bound from the _West-Indies_. The\nShip was in the utmost Danger of Foundring; and when the Master saw all,\nas he thought, lost, his Masts gone, the Ship leaky, and expecting her\nevery moment to sink under him, fill'd with Despair, he calls to him the\nSurgeon of the Ship, and by a fatal Contract, as soon made as hastily\nexecuted, they resolv'd to prevent the Death they fear'd by one more\ncertain; and going into the Cabbin, they both shot themselves with their\nPistols. It pleas'd God the Ship recover'd the Distress, was driven safe\ninto ---- and the Captain just liv'd to see the desperate Course he took\nmight have been spar'd; the Surgeon died immediately.\nThere are several very remarkable Cases come to our Hands since the\nfinishing this Book, and several have been promis'd which are not come\nin; and the Book having been so long promis'd, and so earnestly desir'd\nby several Gentlemen that have already assisted that way, the\nUndertakers could not prevail with themselves to delay it any longer.\n_FINIS._\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Storm, by Daniel Defoe\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORM ***\n***** This file should be named 42234-0.txt or 42234-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Steven Gibbs, Eleni Christofaki and the Online\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\nwill be renamed.\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Martin Pettit and the Online\nA NEW VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD,\nBY A Course never sailed before.\nBEING\nA VOYAGE undertaken by some MERCHANTS, who afterwards proposed\nthe Setting up an _East-India_ Company in FLANDERS.\n_LONDON:_\nPrinted for A. BETTESWORTH, at the _Red-Lyon_,\nin _Pater-Noster-Row_; and W. MEARS, at the\n_Lamb_, without _Temple-Bar_. M.DCC.XXV.\nNEW VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD.\nIt has for some ages been thought so wonderful a thing to sail the tour\nor circle of the globe, that when a man has done this mighty feat, he\npresently thinks it deserves to be recorded like Sir Francis Drake's. So\nsoon as men have acted the sailor, they come ashore and write books of\ntheir voyage, not only to make a great noise of what they have done\nthemselves, but pretending to show the way to others to come after them,\nthey set up for teachers and chart makers to posterity. Though most of\nthem have had this misfortune, that whatever success they have had in\nthe voyage, they have had very little in the relation; except it be to\ntell us, that a seaman when he comes to the press, is pretty much out of\nhis element, and a very good sailor may make but a very indifferent\nauthor.\nI do not in this, lessen the merit of those gentlemen who have made such\na long voyage as that round the globe; but I must be allowed to say, as\nthe way is now a common road, the reason of it thoroughly known, and the\noccasion of it more frequent than in former times, so the world has done\nwondering at it; we no more look upon it as a mighty thing, a strange\nand never heard of undertaking; this cannot be now expected of us, the\nthing is made familiar, every ordinary sailor is able to do it, if his\nmerchants are but qualified to furnish him for so long a voyage; and he\nthat can carry a ship to Lisbon, may with the same ease carry it round\nthe world.\nSome tell us, it is enough to wonder at a thing nine days, one would\nreasonably then conclude, that it is enough that sailing round the world\nhas been wondered at above a hundred years. I shall therefore let the\nreader know, that it is not the rarity of going round the world that has\noccasioned this publication, but if some incidents have happened in\nsuch a voyage, as either have not happened to others, or as no other\npeople, though performing the same voyage have taken notice of, then\nthis account may be worth publishing, though the thing, viz. The Voyage\nround the World, be in itself of no value.\nIt is to be observed, of the several navigators whose Voyages round the\nWorld have been published, that few, if any of them, have diverted us\nwith that variety which a circle of that length must needs offer. We\nhave a very little account of their landings, their diversions, the\naccidents which happened to them, or to others by their means; the\nstories of their engagements, when they have had any scuffle either with\nnatives, or European enemies, are told superficially and by halves; the\nstorms and difficulties at sea or on shore, have nowhere a full\nrelation; and all the rest of their accounts are generally filled up\nwith directions for sailors coming that way, the bearings of the land,\nthe depth of the channels, entrances, and bars, at the several ports,\nanchorage in the bays, and creeks, and the like things, useful indeed\nfor seamen going thither again, and how few are they? but not at all to\nthe purpose when we come expecting to find the history of the voyage.\nAnother sort of these writers have just given us their long journals,\ntedious accounts of their log-work, how many leagues they sailed every\nday; where they had the winds, when it blew hard, and when softly; what\nlatitude in every observation, what meridian distance, and what\nvariation of the compass. Such is the account of Sir John Narborough's\nVoyage to the South Seas, adorned with I know not how many charts of the\nfamous Strait of Magellan, a place only now famous for showing the\nignorance of Sir John Narborough, and a great many wise gentlemen before\nhim, and for being a passage they had no need to have troubled\nthemselves with, and which nobody will ever go through anymore.\nSuch also are the Voyages of Captain John Wood, to Nova Zemla, at the\ncharge of the public, in King Charles the Second's time, and Martin\nFrobisher to the North-West Passages, in Queen Elizabeth's time; all\nwhich, are indeed full of their own journals, and the incidents of\nsailing, but have little or nothing of story in them, for the use of\nsuch readers who never intend to go to sea, and yet such readers may\ndesire to hear how it has fared with those that have, and how affairs\nstand in those remote parts of the world.\nFor these reasons, when first I set out upon a cruising and trading\nvoyage to the East, and resolved to go anywhere, and everywhere that the\nadvantage of trade or the hopes of purchase should guide us, I also\nresolved to take such exact notice of everything that past within my\nreach, that I would be able, if I lived to come home, to give an account\nof my voyage, differing from all that I had ever seen before, in the\nnature of the observations, as well as the manner of relating them. And\nas this is perfectly new in its form, so I cannot doubt but it will be\nagreeable in the particulars, seeing either no voyage ever made before,\nhad such variety of incidents happening in it, so useful and so\ndiverting, or no person that sailed on those voyages, has thought fit to\npublish them after this manner.\nHaving been fitted out in the river of Thames so lately as the year\n1713, and on a design perhaps not very consistent with the measures\ntaking at that time for the putting an end to the war, I must be allowed\nto own I was at first obliged to act not in my own name, but to put in a\nFrench commander into the ship, for the reasons which follow, and which\nthose, who understand the manner of trade upon closing the late war, I\nmean the trade with Spain, will easily allow to be just and well\ngrounded.\nDuring the late war between Great Britain and her confederates on one\nside, and the united crowns of France and Spain on the other, we all\nknow the French had a free trade into the South Seas; a trade carried on\nwith the greatest advantage, and to the greatest degree, that any\nparticular commerce has been carried on in the world for many ages past;\ninsomuch, that we found the return of silver that came back to France by\nthose ships, was not only the enriching of the merchants of St. Malo,\nRochelle, and other ports in France, some of whom we saw get immense\nestates in a few years, even to a million sterling a man; but it was\nevident, the King of France himself was enabled, by the circulation of\nso much bullion through his mints, to carry on that war with very great\nadvantage.\nIt was just at the close of this war, when some merchants of London,\nlooking with envy on the success of that trade, and how the French,\nnotwithstanding the peace, would apparently carry it on, for some years\nat least, to infinite advantage, began to consider whether it might not\nbe possible to come in for a portion of it with France, as they were\nallied to Spain, and yet go abroad in the nature of a private cruiser.\nTo bring this to pass, it was thought proper, in the first place, to get\na share if possible, in a new design of an East India trade in Flanders,\njust then intended to be set up by some British merchants, by the\nassistance of an imperial charter, or at least under colour of it: and\nso we might go to sea in a threefold capacity, to be made use of as\noccasion might present, viz., when on the coast of New Spain we sought\nto trade, we were Frenchmen, had a French captain, and a sufficient\nnumber of French seamen, and Flemish or Walloon seamen, who spoke\nFrench, so to appear on all proper occasions. When at sea we met with\nany Spanish ship worth our while, we were English cruisers, had letters\nof mart from England, had no account of the peace, and were fitted for\nthe attack. And when in the East Indies we had occasion to trade, either\nat the English or Dutch settlements, we should have imperial colours,\nand two Flemish merchants, at least in appearance, to transact\neverything as we found occasion. However, this last part of our project\nfailed us, that affair not being fully ripe.\nAs this mysterious equipment may be liable to some exceptions, and\nperhaps to some inquiries, I shall for the present conceal my name, and\nthat of the ship also. By inquiries, I mean inquiries of private persons\nconcerned; for, as to public inquiries, we have no uneasiness, having\nacted nothing in contradiction to the rules and laws of our country; but\nI say, as to private persons, it is thought fit to prevent their\ninquiries, to which end, the captain, in whose name I write this, gives\nme leave to make use of his name, and conceal my own.\nThe ship sailed from the river the 20th of December, 1713, and went\ndirectly over to the coast of Flanders, lying at an anchor in Newport\nPitts, as they are called, where we took in our French Captain Jean\nMichael Merlotte, who, with thirty-two French seamen, came on board us\nin a large snow from Dunkirk, bringing with them one hundred and\ntwenty-two small ankers or rundlets of brandy, and some hampers and\ncasks of French wine in wickered bottles. While we were here, we lay\nunder English colours, with pendants flying, our ship being upwards of\nfive hundred ton, and had forty-six guns mounted, manned with three\nhundred and fifty-six men; we took the more men on board, because we\nresolved, as occasion should present, to fit ourselves with another\nship, which we did not question we should meet with in the South Seas.\nWe had also a third design in our voyage, though it may be esteemed an\naccident to the rest, viz., we were resolved to make some attempts for\nnew discoveries, as opportunity offered; and we had two persons on board\nwho were exceeding well qualified for our direction in this part, all\nwhich was derived from the following occasion.\nThe person who was principally concerned in the adventure was a man not\nonly of great wealth, but of great importance; he was particularly\naddicted to what we call new discoveries, and it was indeed upon his\ngenius to such things, that the first thought of the voyage was founded.\nThis gentleman told me, that he had already sent one ship fully equipped\nand furnished for a new attempt upon the North-West or North-East\npassages, which had been so often in vain tried by former navigators;\nand that he did not question the success, because he had directed them\nby new measures, and to steer a course that was never attempted yet; and\nhis design in our voyage was to make like discoveries towards the South\npole; where, as he said, and gave us very good reasons for it, he did\nnot doubt but we might discover, even to the pole itself, and find out\nnew worlds and new seas, which had never been heard of before.\nWith these designs, this gentleman came into the other part of our\nproject, and contributed the more largely, and with the more freedom, to\nthe whole, upon that account; in particular, all the needful\npreparations for such discoveries were made wholly at his expense, which\nI take notice of here, as being most proper in the beginning of our\nstory, and that the reader may the less wonder at the particular way we\ntook to perform a voyage which might with much more ease have been done\nby the usual and ordinary way.\nWe sailed from the coast of Flanders the 2nd of January, and, without\nany extraordinary incident, made the coast of Galway, in Ireland, the\n10th, where we stayed, and took in a very extraordinary store of\nprovisions, three times as much as usual, the beef being also well\npickled or double packed, that we might have a sufficient reserve for\nthe length of our voyage, resolving also to spare it as much as\npossible.\nWe had a very rich cargo on board, consisting of all sorts of British\nmanufactures suitable for the Spanish trade in their West Indies; and,\nas we aimed at nothing of trade till we came to the Spanish coast, we\nsailed directly for the Canary Islands: having not fully resolved\nwhether we would make our voyage to the South Seas first, and so round\nthe globe by the East Indies, as has been the usual way, or whether we\nwould go first by the East Indies, and upon the discoveries we were\ndirected to, and then cross the great Pacific Ocean to the west coast of\nAmerica, as was at last resolved.\nWe made the Canaries, the 11th of February; and, coming to an anchor\nthere to take in some fresh water, we put out French colours, and sent\nour boat on shore, with a French boatswain and all French seamen, to buy\nwhat we wanted: they brought us on board five butts or pipes of wine,\nand some provisions, and having filled our water, we set sail again the\n13th. In this time we called a council among ourselves, by which way we\nshould go.\nI confess I was for going by the Cape of Good Hope first, and so to the\nEast Indies: then, keeping to the south of Java, go away to the\nMoluccas, where I made no doubt to make some purchase among the Dutch\nSpice Islands, and so away to the Philippines; but the whole ship's\ncompany, I mean of officers, were against me in this scheme, although I\ntold them plainly, that the discoveries which would be made in such a\nvoyage as that, were the principal reasons why our chief owner embarked\nin the adventure, and that we ought to regard the end and design of our\nvoyage; that it would certainly in the conclusion amount to the same, as\nto trade, as if we went the usual way, seeing the places we were to go\nto were the same one way as the other, and it was only putting the\nquestion which we should go to first; that all the navigators, on such\nvoyages as these, went by the South Seas first, which would be no honour\nto us at all: but, if we went by the East Indies first, we should be the\nfirst that ever went such a voyage, and that we might make many useful\ndiscoveries and experiments in trying that course; that it would be\nworth our while, not only to go that way, but to have all the world take\nnotice of it, and of us for it.\nI used a great many arguments of the like nature, but they answered me\nmost effectually, with laying before me the difficulties of the voyage,\nand the contrary methods of trade, which, in a word, made the going that\nway impracticable: First, the difficulty of the voyage, over the vast\nocean called the Pacific Sea, or South Sea, which, if we kept a southern\nlatitude, and took the variable winds, as we should find them, as I\nproposed to do, might very well be a voyage of six or eight months,\nwithout any sight of land, or supply of provisions or water, which was\nintolerable; that, as to trade, it was preposterous, and just setting\nthe voyage with the bottom upward; for as we were loaden with goods, and\nhad no money, our first business, they said, was to go to the South\nSeas, where our goods were wanted, and would sell for money, and then to\nthe East Indies, where our money would be wanting, to buy other goods to\ncarry home, and not to go to the East Indies first, where our goods\nwould not sell, and where we could buy no other for want of money.\nThis was seemingly so strong a way of reasoning, that they were all\nagainst me, as well French as English, and even the two agents for\ndiscoveries submitted to it; and so we resolved to stand away from the\nCanaries to the coast o Brazil, thence upon the eastern coast of South\nAmerica to Cape Horn, and then into the South Seas; and, if we met with\nanything that was Spanish by the way, we resolved to make prize of it,\nas in a time of war.\nAccordingly, we made the coast of Brazil in twenty-six days, from the\nCanary Islands, and went on shore at Cape St. Augustine, for fresh\nwater; afterwards we put into the bay of All Saints, got some fresh\nprovisions there, and about an hundred very good hogs, some of which we\nkilled and pickled, and carried the rest on board alive, having taken on\nboard a great quantity of roots and maize, or Indian corn, for their\nfood, which they thrived on very well.\nIt was the last of March when we came to the bay, and having stayed\nthere fourteen days, to furnish ourselves with all things we wanted, we\ngot intelligence there, that there were three ships at Buenos Ayres, in\nthe river Rio de la Plata, which were preparing to go for Europe, and\nthat they expected two Spanish men of war to be their convoy, because\nof the Portuguese men of war which were in Brazil, to convoy the Brazil\nfleet.\nTheir having two Spanish men of war with them for their convoy, took\naway a great deal from the joy we had entertained at the news of their\nbeing there, and we began to think we should make little or nothing of\nit; however, we resolved to see the utmost of it, and, particularly, if\nour double appearance would not now stand us in some stead.\nAccordingly, we went away for the river of Plata, and, as usual,\nspreading French colours, we went boldly up to Buenos Ayres, and sent in\nour boat, manned with Frenchmen, pretending to be homeward bound from\nthe South Seas, and in want of provisions.\nThe Spaniards received us with civility, and granted us such provisions\nas we wanted; and here we found, to our great satisfaction, that there\nwas no such thing as any Spanish man of war there; but they said they\nexpected one, and the governor there for the King of Spain asked our\nFrench officer if we would take one of their ships under our convoy?\nMonsieur Merlotte answered him warily, that his ship was deep loaden,\nand foul, and he could not undertake anything; but, if they would keep\nhim company, he would do them what service he could; but that also, as\nthey were a rich ship, they did not design to go directly to France, but\nto Martinico, where they expected to meet with some French men of war to\nconvoy them home.\nThis answer was so well managed; though there was not one word of truth\nin it, that one of the three ships, for the other two were not ready,\nresolved to come away with us, and, in an evil hour for them, they did\nso.\nTo be brief, we took the innocent Spaniard into our convoy, and sailed\naway to the northward with them, but were not far at sea before we let\nthem know what circumstances they were in, by the following method. We\nwere about half a league a head of them, when our captain bringing to,\nand hauling up our courses, made a signal to the Spaniards for the\ncaptain to come on board, which he very readily did; as soon as he was\non board, our captain let him know that he was our prisoner, and all his\nmen, and immediately manning their boat with thirty of our men, we sent\nthem on board their ship, to take possession of her, but ordered them\nthat they should behave civilly to the men on board, and plunder\nnothing. For we made a promise to the Spanish captain, that his ship\nshould not be plundered, upon condition he would give us a just account\nof his loading, and deliver peaceably to us what riches he had on board;\nthen we also agreed, that we would restore him his ship, which by the\nway, we found was chiefly loaden with hides, things of no value to us,\nand that the ship also was an old vessel, strong, but often doubled, and\ntherefore a very heavy sailer, and consequently not at all fit for our\npurpose, though we greatly wanted a ship to take along with us, we\nhaving, as I have said, both too many men, and being too full of goods.\nThe Spanish captain, though surprised with the stratagem that had\nbrought him thus into the hands of his enemies, and greatly enraged in\nhis mind at being circumvented, and trepanned out of his ship, yet\nshowed a great presence of mind under his misfortune; and, as I verily\nbelieve, he would have fought us very bravely, if we had let him know\nfairly what we were, so he did not at all appear dejected at his\ndisaster, but capitulated with us as if he had been taken sword in hand.\nAnd one time, when Captain Merlotte and he could not agree, and the\nSpanish captain was a little threatened, he grew warm; told the captain\nthat he might be ill used, being in his hands, but that he was not\nafraid to suffer whatever his ill fortune had prepared for him, and he\nwould not, for fear of ill usage, yield to base conditions; that he was\na man of honour, and if he was so too, he demanded to be put on board\nhis own ship again, and he should see he knew how to behave himself.\nCaptain Merlotte smiled at that, and told him, he was not afraid to put\nhim on board his own ship, and fight for her again, and that, if he did\nso, he was sure he could not escape him; the Spanish captain smiled too,\nand told him he should see, if he did, that he knew the way to heaven\nfrom the bottom of the sea as well as any other road, and that men of\ncourage were never at a loss to conquer their enemy one way or other;\nintimating, that he would sink by his side rather than be taken, and\nthat he would take care to be but a very indifferent prize to him, if he\nwas conquered.\nHowever, we came to better terms with him afterwards. In short, having\ntaken on board all the silver, which was about two hundred thousand\npieces of eight, and whatever else we met with that was valuable, among\nthe rest his ammunition, and six brass guns, we performed conditions,\nand sent him into the Rio de la Plata again with his ship, to let the\nother Spanish captains know what scouring they had escaped.\nThough we got a good booty, we were disappointed of a ship; however, we\nwere not so sensible of that disappointment now, as we were afterwards:\nfor, as we depended upon going to the South Seas, we made no doubt of\nmeeting with vessels enough for our purpose. Of what followed, the\nreader will soon be informed.\nWe had done our work here, and had neither any occasion or any desire to\nlie any longer on this coast, where the climate was bad, and the weather\nexceeding hot, and where our men began to be very uneasy, being crowded\ntogether so close all in one ship; so we made the best of our way south.\nWe met with some stormy weather in these seas, and particularly a\nnorth-west blast, which carried us for eleven days a great way off to\nsea; but, as we had sea-room enough, and a stout strong-built ship under\nus, perfectly well prepared, tight and firm, we made light of the storms\nwe met with, and soon came into our right way again; so that, about the\n4th of May, we made land in the latitude of 45\u00b0 12', south.\nWe put in here for fresh water; and, finding nothing of the land marked\nin our charts, we had no knowledge of the place, but, coming to an\nanchor at about a league from the shore, our boat went in quest of a\ngood watering-place; in pursuit of this, they went up a creek about two\nleagues more, where they found good water, and filled some casks, and so\ncame on board to make their report.\nThe next day we came into the creek's mouth, where we found six to eight\nfathom water within a cable's length of the shore, and found fresh water\nenough, but no people or cattle, though an excellent country for both.\nOf this country I made many observations, suitable to the design and\ndesire of our ingenious employer and owner; and those observations are\none end of publishing this voyage. I shall mention only one observation\nhere, because I shall have occasion to speak of them hereafter more\nlargely. My observation here is as follows:--\n     _An observation concerning the soil and climate of the continent\n     of America, south of the river De la Plata; and how suitable to the\n     genius, the constitution, and the manner of living of Englishmen,\n     and consequently for an English colony._\n     The particular spot which I observe upon, is that part of the\n     continent of America which lies on the shore of the North Seas, as\n     they are called, though erroneously, for they are more properly the\n     East Seas, being extended along the east shores of South America.\n     The land lies on the same east side of America, extended north and\n     south from Coasta Deserta, in 42\u00b0, to Port St. Julian, in 49\u00bd\u00b0,\n     being almost five hundred miles in length, full of very good\n     harbours, and some navigable rivers. The land is a plain for several\n     scores of miles within the shore, with several little rising hills,\n     but nowhere mountainous or stony; well adapted for enclosing,\n     feeding, and grazing of cattle; also for corn, all sorts of which\n     would certainly not only grow, but thrive very well here, especially\n     wheat, rye, pease, and barley, things which would soon be improved\n     by Englishmen, to the making the country rich and populous, the\n     raising great quantities of grain of all sorts, and cattle in\n     proportion. The trade which I propose for the consumption of all the\n     produce, and the place whither to be carried, I refer to speak of by\n     itself, in the farther progress of this work.\nI return now to the pursuit of our voyage. We put to sea again the 10th\nof May, with fair weather and a fair wind; though a season of the year,\nit is true, when we might have reason to expect some storms, being what\nwe might call the depth of their winter. However, the winds held\nnortherly, which, there, are to be esteemed the warm winds, and bringing\nmild weather; and so they did, till we came into the latitude of 50\u00b0,\nwhen we had strong winds and squally weather, with much snow and cold,\nfrom the south-west and south-west by west, which, blowing very hard, we\nput back to Port St. Julian, where we were not able to stir for some\ntime.\nWe weighed again the 29th, and stood south again past the mouth of the\nStraits of Magellan, a strait famous for many years, for being thought\nto be the only passage out of the North Seas into the South Seas, and\ntherefore I say famous some ages; not only in the discovery of it by\nMagellan, a Spanish captain, but of such significance, that, for many\nyears, it was counted a great exploit to pass this strait, and few have\never done it of our nation, but that they have thought fit to tell the\nworld of it as an extraordinary business, fit to be made public as an\nhonour to their names. Nay, King Charles the Second thought it worth\nwhile to send Sir John Narborough, on purpose to pass and take an exact\nsurvey of this strait; and the map or plan of it has been published by\nSir John himself, at the public expense, as a useful thing.\nSuch a mighty and valuable thing also was the passing this strait, that\nSir Francis Drake's going through it gave birth to that famous old\nwives' saying, viz., that Sir Francis Drake shot the gulf; a saying that\nwas current in England for many years after Sir Francis Drake was gone\nhis long journey of all; as if there had been but one gulf in the world,\nand that passing it had been a wonder next to that of Hercules cleansing\nthe Augean stable.\nOf this famous place I could not but observe, on this occasion, that, as\nignorance gave it its first fame and made it for so many ages the most\neminent part of the globe, as it was the only passage by which the whole\nworld could be surrounded, and that it was to every man's honour that\nhad passed it; so now it is come to the full end or period of its fame,\nand will in all probability never have the honour to have any ship,\nvessel, or boat, go through it more, while the world remains, unless,\nwhich is very improbable, that part of the world should come to be fully\ninhabited.\nI know some are of opinion, that, before the full period of the earth's\nexistence, all the remotest and most barren parts of it shall be\npeopled; but I see no ground for such a notion, but many reasons which\nwould make it appear to be impracticable, and indeed impossible; unless\nit should please God to alter the situation of the globe as it respects\nthe sun, and place it in a direct, as it now moves in an oblique\nposition; or that a new species of mankind should be produced, who might\nbe as well qualified to live in the frozen zone as we are in the\ntemperate, and upon whom the extremity of cold could have no power. I\nsay, as there are several parts of the globe where this would be\nimpracticable, I shall say no more than this, that I think it is a\ngroundless suggestion.\nBut to return to our voyage; we passed by the mouth of this famous\nStrait of Magellan, and those others which were passed through by Le\nMaire the Dutch sailor afterwards; and keeping an offing of six or seven\nleagues, went away south, till we came into the latitude of 58\u00b0, when we\nwould, as we had tried three days before, have stretched away\nsouth-west, to have got into the South Seas, but a strong gale of wind\ntook us at west-north-west, and though we could, lying near to it,\nstretch away to the southward, yet, as it over-blowed, we could make no\nwestward way; and though we had under us an excellent strong-built\nvessel, that, we may say, valued not the waves, and made very good work\nof it, yet we went away to leeward in spite of all we could do, and lost\nground apace. We held it out, however, the weather being clear, but\nexcessive cold, till we found ourselves in the latitude of 64\u00b0.\nWe called our council several times, to consider what we should do, for\nwe did but drive to leeward the longer we strove with it; the gale held\nstill on, and, to our apprehensions, it was set in; blowing like a kind\nof monsoon, or trade-wind, though in those latitudes I know there is no\nsuch thing properly called, as a trade-wind.\nWe tried, the wind abating, to beat up again to the north, and we did\nso; but it was by running a great way to the east; and once, I believe,\nwe were in the longitude of St. Helena, though so far south, but it cost\nus infinite labour, and near six weeks' time. At length we made the\ncoast, and arrived again at the Port of St. Julian the 20th of June,\nwhich, by the way, is the depth of their winter.\nHere we resolved to lay up for the winter, and not attempt to go so far\nsouth again at that time of the year, but our eager desire of pursuing\nour voyage prevailed, and we put out to sea again, having taken in fresh\nprovisions, such as are to be had there; that is to say, seals,\npenguins, and such like, and with this recruit we put to sea, I say, a\nsecond time.\nWe had this time worse luck than we had before; for, the wind setting in\nat south-west, blew a storm, and drove us with such force away to sea\neastward, that we were never able to make any way to the southward at\nall, but were carried away with a continued storm of wind, from the same\ncorner, or near it. Our pilot, or master, as we called him, finding\nhimself often obliged to go away before it, which kept us out long at\nsea, and drove us far to the north-east, eastward, that he advised us to\nstand away for the Cape of Good Hope; and accordingly we did so, and\narrived there the last day of July.\nWe were now disheartened indeed, and I began to revive my proposal of\ngoing to the East Indies, as I at first proposed; and to answer the\nobjection which they then made against it, as being against the nature\nof trade, and that we had nothing on board but European goods, which\nwere not fitted for the East Indies, where money only was suitable to\nthe market we were to make; I say, to answer this objection, I told them\nI would engage that I would sell our whole cargo at the Philippine\nIslands as well as on the coast of America; for that those islands being\nSpanish, our disguise of being French would serve us as well at the\nPhilippines, as it would in New Spain; and with this particular\nadvantage, that we should sell here for four times the value we should\non the coast of Chili, or Peru; and that, when we had done, we could\nload our ship again there, or in other places in the Indies, with such\ngoods as would come to a good market again in New Spain.\nThis I told them was indeed what had not been practised, nor at any\nother time would it be practicable: for as it was not usual for any\nships to go from the East Indies to the Philippines, so neither was it\nusual for any European ships to trade with freedom in the South Seas,\ntill, since the late war, when the French had the privilege; and I could\nnot but be amazed that the French had never gone this way, where they\nmight have made three or four voyages in one, and with much less hazard\nof meeting with the English or Dutch cruisers; and have made twice the\nprofits which they made the other way, where they were frequently out\nthree or four years upon one return; whereas here they might make no\nless than three returns, or perhaps four, in the same voyage and in much\nless time.\nThey were now a little surprised, for in all our first debates we had\nnothing of this matter brought in question; only they entertained a\nnotion that I was going upon strange projects to make discoveries,\nsearch for the South pole, plant new colonies, and I know not how many\nwhims of their own, which were neither in my design, or in my\ninstructions. The person, therefore, who was our supercargo, and the\nother captain, whose name I have not mentioned, together with the French\nCaptain, Merlotte, and the rest, who had all opposed me before, came\ncheerfully into my proposal; only the supercargo told me, in the name of\nthe rest, that he began to be more sensible of the advantages of the\nvoyage I had proposed, than he was before; but that, as he was equally\nintrusted with me in the government of the trading part, he begged I\nwould not take it ill, that he desired I would let him farther into that\nparticular, and explain myself, at least as far as I thought proper.\nThis was so just a request, and so easy for me to do, and, above all,\nwas made with so much good manners and courtesy, that I told him, if I\nhad been otherwise determined, the courteous and good-humoured way with\nwhich he required it, would constrain me to it; but that, however, I was\nvery ready to do it, as he was intrusted with the cargo jointly with me,\nand that it was a piece of justice to the owners, that whom they thought\nfit to trust I should trust also; upon this I told him my scheme, which\nwas as follows:\nFirst, I said, that, as the Philippine Islands received all their\nEuropean goods from Acapulco, in America, by the king of Spain's ships,\nthey were obliged to give what price was imposed upon them by the\nmerchants, who brought those goods by so many stages to Acapulco. For\nexample, the European goods, or suppose English goods in particular,\nwith which they were loaden, went first from England to Cadiz, from\nCadiz by the galleons to Porto Bello, from Porto Bello, to Panama, from\nPanama to Acapulco; in all which places the merchants had their several\ncommissions and other profits upon the sale; besides the extravagant\ncharges of so many several ways of carriage, some by water, some by\nland, and besides the king's customs in all those places; and that,\nafter all this, they were brought by sea from Acapulco to the Philippine\nIslands, which was a prodigious voyage, and were then generally sold in\nthe Philippine Islands at three hundred per cent. advance.\nThat, in the room of all this, our cargo being well bought and well\nsorted, would come to the Philippine Islands at once, without any\nlanding or re-landing, and without any of all the additions of charge to\nthe first cost, as those by the way of New Spain had upon them; so that,\nif we were to sell them at the Philippine Islands a hundred per cent.\ncheaper than the Spaniards usually sold, yet we should get abundantly\nmore than we could on the coast of Peru, though we had been allowed a\nfree trade there.\nThat there were but two objections to this advantage, and these were,\nour liberty of trading, and whether the place would consume the quantity\nof goods we had; and to this I had much to answer. First, that it was\nwell known at the Philippine Isles, that the kings of France and Spain\nwere united firmly together; that the king of Spain had allowed the king\nof France's subjects a free trade in his American dominions, and\nconsequently, that it would not be denied there; but, on the other hand,\nthat, if it was denied by the governor, yet there would be room to find\nout a trade with the inhabitants, and especially with the Chinese and\nJapan merchants, who were always there, which trade the governor could\nnot prevent; and thus we could not fear a market for all our cargo, if\nit was much greater than it was.\nThat as to the returns, we had the advantage either way: for, first, we\nshould be sure to receive a great part of the price of our goods in\nChinese or Japan gold and silver, or in pieces of eight; or, if we\nthought fit to trade another way, we might take on board such a quantity\nof China damasks, and other wrought silks, muslins and chintz, China\nware, and Japan ware; all which, would be immediately sold in America;\nthat we should carry a cargo of these goods to New Spain, infinitely to\nour advantage, being the same cargo which the four great Acapulco ships\ncarry back with them every year: That when we had gone to the South Seas\nwith this cargo, of which we knew we should make a good market, we had\nnothing to do but to come back, if we thought fit, to the East Indies\nagain, where we might load for England or Flanders such goods as we\nthought proper; or, if we did not think fit to take so great a run, we\nmight go away to the south, and round by Cape Horn into the Atlantic\nOcean, and perfect those discoveries, which we made part of in the\nbeginning of our voyage.\nThis was so clear a scheme of trade, that he seemed surprised with it,\nand fully satisfied in every part of it. But the captain then objected\nagainst the length of the voyage to the South Seas from the Philippines,\nand raised several scruples about the latitude which we should keep in\nsuch a voyage; that we should not be able to carry any provisions which\nwe could take on board in those hot countries, that would keep for so\nlong a run, and several other difficulties; to all which I made answer,\nthat when we had sold our cargo at the Philippines, and found our\nadvantages there to answer our desires, I would not oppose our returning\nfrom thence directly to England if they found it needful; or, if they\nthought a farther adventure would not answer the risks we were to expect\nin it, we would never have any dispute about that.\nThis satisfied them fully, and they went immediately with the news to\nthe men, as what they thought would please them wonderfully, seeing they\nwere mighty uneasy but two or three days before, about their being to go\nback again to the south of America, and the latitude of 64\u00b0, where we\nhad not only been twice driven back, as if heaven had forbidden us to\npass that way, but had been driven so far to the south, that we had met\nwith a most severe cold, and which pinched our men exceedingly, who\nbeing come, as we might say, a hot-weather voyage, were but ill\nfurnished for the state of the air usual in the latitudes of 64\u00b0.\nBut we had a harder task to go through than we expected, upon this\noccasion; and it may stand here upon record, as a buoy or beacon to warn\nofficers and commanders of ships, supercargoes, and such as are trusted\nin the conduct of the voyage, never to have any disputes among\nthemselves, (I say not among themselves), about the course they shall\ntake, or whither they shall go; for it never fails to come among the men\nafter them, and if the debate is but named on the outside of the great\ncabin door, it becomes immediately a dispute among the officers upon the\nquarter-deck, the lieutenants, mates, purser, &c.; from thence it gets\nafore the mast, and into the cook room, and the whole ship is\nimmediately divided into factions and parties; every foremast man is a\ncaptain, or a director to the captain; every boatswain, gunner,\ncarpenter, cockswain, nay, and even the cook, sets up for a leader of\nthe men; and if two of them join parties, it is ten to one but it comes\nto a mutiny, and perhaps to one of the two last extremities of all\nmutinies, viz., running away from the ship, or, what is worse, running\naway with the ship.\nOur case was exactly thus, and had issued accordingly, for aught I know,\nif we had not been in a port where, we got immediate assistance, and\nthat by a more than ordinary vigour in the management too.\nI have mentioned the first time when we called a council about our\nvoyage at the Canaries, and how it was carried against my opinion not to\ngo to the East Indies, but to go to the South Seas, about by Cape Horn.\nAs the debate of this was not at all concealed, the officers of the\nship, viz., the two lieutenants and two mates, the purser, and others,\ncame in, and went out, and not only heard all we said, but talked of it\nat liberty on the quarter-deck, and where they pleased, till it went\namong the whole ship's crew. It is true, there came nothing of all this\nat that time, because almost all the votes being against my opinion, as\nI have said already, the ship's company seemed to join in naturally with\nit, and the men were so talked into the great prospects of gain to\nthemselves, by a voyage to the South Seas, that they looked upon me, who\nought to have had the chief direction in the business, to be nobody, and\nto have only made a ridiculous proposal, tending to hurt them; and I\nperceived clearly after this, that they looked upon me with an evil eye,\nas one that was against their interest; nay, and treated me with a sort\nof contempt too, as one that had no power to hurt them, but as one, that\nif things were left to me, would carry them on a wildgoosechase they\nknew not whither.\nI took no notice of this at first, knowing that, in the process of\nthings, I should have opportunity enough to let them know I had power to\noblige them many ways; as also, that I had authority sufficient to\ncommand the whole ship, and that the direction of the voyage was\nprincipally in me, though I being willing to do everything in a friendly\nway, had too easily, and, I may say, too weakly, put that to the vote,\nwhich I had a right to have commanded their compliance with. The ill\nconsequences of which appeared not for some time, but broke out upon the\noccasion of our new measures, as will presently appear.\nAs soon as we had determined our voyage among ourselves in the great\ncabin, the supercargo and Captain Merlotte went out upon the\nquarter-deck, and began to talk of it among the officers, midshipmen,\n&c.; and, to give them their due, they talked of it very honestly; not\nwith any complaint of being over-ruled, or over-persuaded, but as a\nmeasure that was fully agreed to among us in the great cabin.\nThe boatswain, a blunt, surly, bold fellow, as soon as he heard of it,\nVery well, says he, so we are all come back into Captain Positive's\nblind proposal (for so he called me); why this is the same that\neverybody rejected at the Canaries; and now, because we are driven\nhither by contrary winds, those winds must be a reason why we must\nundertake a preposterous, ridiculous voyage, that never any sailor would\nhave proposed, and that man never went before. What, does the captain\nthink that we cannot find our way to the coast of America again, and\nbecause we have met with cross winds, we must never meet with fair ones?\nI warrant him, let us but go up the height of St. Helena, we will soon\nreach the Rio de la Plata and Port St. Julian again, and get into the\nSouth Seas too, as others have done before us.\nThe gunner took it from the boatswain, and he talks with one of the\nmidshipmen in the same dialect. For my part, says he, I shipped myself\nfor the South Seas when I first came aboard the ship, and in hopes of\ngood booty; and if we go thither, I know nothing can hinder us, wind and\nweather permitting: but this is such a voyage as no man ever attempted\nbefore; and whatever the captain proposes, can have nothing in it for\nthe men, but horrid fatigue, violent heats, sickness, and starving.\nOne of the mates takes it from him, and he says as openly, I wonder what\na plague the rest of the gentlemen mean; they were all against the\ncaptain when he started this whimsical voyage before, and now they come\nall into it of a sudden, without any consideration; and so the project\nof one man must ruin the most promising voyage ever yet undertaken, and\nbe the death of above two hundred as stout fellows as ever were together\nin one ship in this part of the world.\nOne of the midshipmen followed the mate, and said, We were all promised\nthat another ship should be gotten, either purchased or taken, and that\nthe first ship we took, should be manned and victualled out of this\nship, where we were double manned, and crowded together enough to bring\nan infection among us, in such hot climates as we are going into; and\nif we were in the South Seas, we should easily buy a ship, or take a\nship for our purpose, almost where we would; but in all this part of the\nworld there is no such thing as a ship fit for an Englishman to set his\nfoot in. We were promised, too, that when we got into such a ship, we\nthat entered as midshipmen should be preferred to offices, as we were\nqualified, and as our merit should recommend us. What they are going to\ndo with us now, I cannot imagine, unless it be to turn us afore the\nmast, when half the foremast men are dead, and thrown overboard.\nThe master, or pilot of the ship, heard all these things, and sent us\nword into the great cabin of all that passed, and, in short, assured us,\nthat, if these things went a little farther, he was afraid they would\ncome up to a mutiny; that there was great danger of it already, and that\nwe ought to apply some immediate remedy to it, or else he thought it\nwould be too late. He told me the particulars also, and how the whole\nweight of their resentment seemed to tend to quarrelling at my command,\nas believing that this project of going to the East Indies was wholly\nmine; and that the rest of the officers being a little influenced by the\naccident of our being driven so far out of our way, were only biassed in\nthe rest by my opinion; and, as they were all against it before, would\nhave been so still, if it had not been for me; and he feared, if they\nwent on, they might enter into some fatal measures about me, and perhaps\nresolve to set me on shore in some barren uninhabited land or other, to\ngive me my bellyful of new discoveries, as it seems some of them had\nhinted, and the second mate in particular.\nI was far from being insensible of the danger I was in, and indeed of\nthe danger the whole voyage, ship and all, was in; for I made no\nquestion, but that, if their brutish rage led them to one villanous\naction, they would soon go on to another; and the devil would take hold\nof that handle to represent the danger of their being punished for it\nwhen they came home; and so, as has been often the case, prompt them to\nmutiny against all command, and run away with the ship.\nHowever, I had presence of mind enough to enter into prompt measures for\nour general safety, and to prevent the worse, in case of any attempt\nupon me. First, I represented the case to the rest of the gentlemen and\nasked if they would stand by me, and by the resolutions which we had\ntaken for the voyage; then I called into our assistance the chief mate,\nwho was a kinsman of one of our owners, a bold resolute gentleman, and a\npurser, who we knew was faithful to us; as also the surgeon and the\ncarpenter. I engaged them all to give me first their opinions whether\nthey were convinced of the reasonableness of my scheme for the voyage I\nhad proposed; and that they might judge for themselves, laid it all\nbefore them again, arguing every part of it so clearly to them, that\nthey were convinced entirely of its being the most rational prospect of\nthe voyage for us, of any we could go about.\nWhen I had done this, I recommended it to them to expostulate with the\nmen, and if possible, to keep them in temper, and keep them to their\nduty; but at the same time, to stand all ready, and upon a signal which\nI gave them, to come all to the steerage, and defend the great cabin\ndoor with all the other hands, whom they could be sure of; and in the\nmean time to be very watchful over the motions of the men, and see what\nthey drove at.\nAt the same time I fortified myself with the French captain, and the\nsupercargo, and the other captain; and by the way, all the French\ncaptain's men were true to him, and he true to us, to a man. We then\nbrought a sufficient store of ammunition and small arms into the great\ncabin, and secured the steerage, as also the roundhouse, so that we\ncould not possibly be surprised.\nThere was nothing done that night, but the next morning I was informed,\nthat the gunner and second mate were in a close cabal together, and one\nor two of the midshipmen, and that they had sworn to one another, not\nthat they would not go the voyage as was proposed, for that might have\nended in their running away, which I should not have been sorry for;\nbut, in short, their oath was, that the ship should not go the voyage;\nby which I was presently to understand, that they had some measures to\ntake to prevent my design of the voyage to the Philippines, and that,\nperhaps, this was to run away with the ship to Madagascar, which was not\nfar off.\nI had, however, this apparent encouragement, that as the contrivance was\nyet but two days' old, for it was but two days since they had any notice\nof our intentions to go, they would be some days caballing and forming\nan interest among the men, to make up a party strong enough to make any\nattempt; and that, as I had a trusty set of men, who would be as\ndiligent the other way, they would be contriving every method to get the\nmen over to their opinion, so that at least it would be some time before\nthey could make their party up.\nThe affair was rightly conjectured, and the three men who had made\nthemselves the head of the mutineers, went on apace, and my men\nincreased too, as much as could be desired for the time; but the Friday\nafter, which was about five days from the first discovery, one of the\nmidshipmen came, and desired to speak with me, and begged it might not,\nif possible, be known that he was with me. I asked him if he desired to\nbe alone; he said no, I might appoint whom I thought convenient that I\ncould trust, but that what he had to say was of the last importance to\nall our lives, and that therefore, he hoped I would be very sure of\nthose in whom I confided.\nUpon this, I told him, I would name the chief mate, the French captain,\nand the supercargo, and in the mean time, I bade him not be too much\nsurprised, for that I had already some warning of the scheme which I\nbelieved he had to tell me of, and that I was preparing all things to\ndisappoint it: that, however, I should not value his fidelity the less,\nand that he might speak freely his mind before those men, for they were\nall in the secret already, and he might be sure both of protection and\nreward.\nAccordingly, I bade him go out upon the quarter-deck, and walk there,\nand that, when the chief mate went off into the roundhouse, he should go\ndown between decks as if he was going into his cabin to sleep, and that,\nwhen he heard the chief mate call the cabin boy, a black of mine, whose\nname was Spartivento, he should take that for a signal that the steerage\nwas clear, and he might come up, and should be let into the great cabin;\nall which was so managed, and in so short a time, that he was with us in\nthe great cabin in a quarter of an hour after the first conference, and\nnone of the men perceived it.\nHere he let me into the whole secret, and a wicked scheme it was; viz.,\nthat the second mate, the gunner, three midshipmen, the cockswain, and\nabout six-and-thirty of the men, had resolved to mutiny, and seize upon\nall us who were in the new project, as they called it; and to confine us\nfirst, then to set us on shore, either there where we were, or\nsomewhere else, and so carry the ship away to the South Seas, and then\nto do as they found convenient; that is to say, in a word, to seize upon\nme, the other captain, the French captain, the supercargo, the chief\nmate, doctor, and carpenter, with some others, and run away with the\nship.\nHe told me, that they had not fully concluded on all their measures, nor\ngained so many of the men as they intended; that they were to sound some\nmore of the men the next morning, and, as soon as they had made their\nnumber up fifty, they were resolved to make the attempt, which they did\nnot question would be by Thursday, and this was Monday morning; and\nthat, if they were then ready, they would make the onset at changing the\nwatch the same evening. He added, that, as they were to go on shore the\nnext morning for fresh water, I should know the truth of it by this;\nthat the second mate would come to me, and tell me that they wanted more\nwater, and to know if I pleased the boats should go on shore, and that,\nif I chose it, he would go with them, or any else whom I pleased to\nappoint; and that, upon supposition that I would leave it to him, to\ntake those he thought fit to go with him, he would then take occasion to\nchoose the principal conspirators, that they might, when they were on\nshore, conclude upon the measures they intended to pursue.\nI had all that day (Monday) to order my preparations, and upon this\nplain intelligence, I determined to lose no time, nor was it long before\nI resolved what to do; for as their design was desperate, so I had\nnothing but desperate remedies to provide. Having therefore settled my\nmeasures, I called for the cockswain, and bade him man the pinnace, for\nthat I was to go on shore, and I appointed only the supercargo, and the\nsurgeon, and the French captain, to go with me.\nThere were no English ships in the road, but there were about five Dutch\nvessels homeward-bound, waiting for more, and three outward-bound. As I\npassed by one of the outward-bound East India ships, the French captain,\nas we had agreed before, pretended to know the ship, and that the\ncommander was his old acquaintance, and asked me to give him leave to\nvisit him, and told me he was sure he would make us all welcome. I\nseemed unwilling at first, telling him I intended to go on shore and\npay my respects to the governor, and, as was usual, to ask him leave to\nbuy some provisions, and that the governor would take it very ill if I\ndid not go. However, upon his alleging that we would not stay, and that\nthe Dutch captain, upon his going on board, would, he was sure, give us\na letter of recommendation to the governor, by which we should have\neverything granted that we could desire, I consented to his importunity,\nand we went on board.\nCaptain Merlotte, who spoke Dutch very well, hailed the ship, asked the\ncaptain's name, and then asked if he was on board; they answered, Yes;\nthen he bade them tell him the captain of the English ship was come to\nvisit him; upon which, immediately their chief mate bade them man the\nside, and stood at the side to receive us, and, before we could get up,\nthe Dutch captain came upon the quarter-deck, and with great civility\ninvited us into his cabin; and, while we were there, the chief mate, by\nthe captain's order, entertained the boat's crew with like civility.\nWhen we were in the cabin, Captain Merlotte told the Dutch captain that\nwe came indeed to him in the form of a visit, but that our business was\nof the greatest importance, and desired we might speak to him of it in\nthe hearing of none but such as he could trust. The captain told us with\nthe greatest open-heartedness imaginable, that though we were strangers\nto him, yet we looked like honest men, and he would grant our request;\nwe should speak it in the hearing of none but those we could trust, for\nthere should be nobody by but ourselves.\nWe made him fully sensible that we knew how obliging that compliment\nwas, but begged he would admit any whom he thought worthy to be trusted\nwith a secret of the last importance. He then carried it as far the\nother way, and told us, that then he must call in the whole ship's\ncompany, for that there was not a man in the ship but he could trust his\nlife in his hands. However, upon the whole, he sent everybody out of the\ncabin but us three and himself, and then desired we would speak our\nminds freely.\nCaptain Merlotte, who spoke Dutch, began, but the Dutch captain\ninterrupted him, and asked if the English captain, meaning me, spoke\nDutch; he said no; upon which he asked Captain Merlotte if he spoke\nEnglish, and he said yes, upon which he let me know that he understood\nEnglish, and desired I would speak to him in English.\nI was heartily glad of this, and began immediately with the story, for\nwe had time little enough, I told him that he was particularly happy in\nhaving it in his power to say he could put his life in the hand of any\nman, the meanest in his ship; that my men were unhappily the reverse of\nhis; and, then beginning at the first of the story, I gave him a full\naccount of the whole, as related above.\nHe was extremely affected with it, and asked me what he could do to\nserve me, and assured me that he would not only do what in him lay, but\nwould engage all the ships in the road to do the like, and the governor\nalso on shore. I thanked him very sincerely, and told him what at\npresent was the circumstance I thought lay before me, was this, viz.,\nthat the chief conspirators would be on shore on the morrow, with one,\nor perhaps two, of our boats, to fetch water and get some fresh\nprovisions, and I should be very glad to have them seized upon by\nsurprise, when they were on shore, and that then I thought I could\nmaster the rest on board well enough.\nLeave that to me, says he, I will give the governor notice this evening,\nand as soon as they come on shore they shall be all seized; But, says\nhe, if you think they may incline to make any resistance, I will write a\nline to the governor, and give it you now; then, when your men go on\nshore, order two of the principal rogues to go and wait on the governor\nwith the letter from you, and when he receives it, he shall secure them\nthere; so they will be divided, and taken with the more ease.\nIn the mean time, added he, while this is doing on shore, I will come on\nboard your ship, with my long boat and pinnace, and as many men as you\nplease, to repay you the compliment of this visit, and assist you in\nreducing the rest.\nThis was so kind, and so completely what I desired, that I could have\nasked nothing more; and I accepted his visit in his barge, which I\nthought would be enough, but was afraid that, if more came, our men\nmight be alarmed, and take arms before I was ready; so we agreed upon\nthat, and, if I desired more help, I should hang out a signal, viz., a\nred ancient, on the mizen top.\nAll things being thus consulted, I returned on board, pretending to our\nmen that I had spent so much time on board the Dutch ship, that I could\nnot go on shore; and indeed some of my men were so drunk, that they\ncould scarce sit to their oars; and the coxswain was so very far gone,\nthat I took occasion to ask publicly, to leave him on board till the\nnext day, giving the Dutch captain also a hint that he was in the\nconspiracy, and I should be glad to leave him on that account.\nThe next day, about nine o'clock, the second mate came to me, and told\nme they wanted more water, and, if I pleased to order the boat on shore,\nhe would go if I thought fit, and see if he could get any fresh\nprovisions, the purser being indisposed.\nI told him, yes, with all my heart; that the Dutch captain last night\nhad given me a letter to the governor, to desire we might be furnished\nwith whatever we had occasion for, and that I had thoughts of calling\nfor him to go on shore and deliver it, and that, perhaps, the governor\nmight make him some present in compliment to the English nation.\nHe seemed extremely pleased at this, and even elevated, and going out to\ngive orders about the boat, ordered the long-boat and the shallop, and\ncame in again, and asked me whom I pleased to have go along with him. I\nanswered, smilingly to him. Pick and choose then yourself, only leave\nthe pinnace's crew that went with me yesterday, because they must go on\nboard again to carry the Dutch captain a little present of English beer\nthat I am going to send him, and fetch aboard their drunken coxswain,\nwho was so intoxicated that we were fain to leave him behind us.\nThis was just what he wanted; and we found he chose all the chief rogues\nof the conspiracy; such as the boatswain, the gunner, the midshipmen we\nspoke of, and such of the foremast men as he had secured in his design;\nand of the rest, we judged they were in the plot, because he took them\nwith him; and thus having the long-boat and the shallop, with about\nsix-and-thirty men with them, away they went to fill water.\nWhen they came on shore, they had presently three Dutchmen, set by the\nDutch captain, unperceived by them, to be spies upon them, and to mark\nexactly what they did; and at the same time found three boats of\nDutchmen at the watering-place, (for the captain had procured two boats\nto go on shore from two other ships,) full of men also, having\nacquainted them with the design. As soon as our boats came on shore, the\nmen appeared to be all very much engaged in something more than\nordinary, and, instead of separating, as it was expected they should,\nthey went all into one boat, and there they were mighty busily engaged\nin discourse one with another.\nThe Dutch captain had given the charge of these things to a brisk bold\nfellow, his mate, and he took the hints the captain gave him so well,\nthat nothing could have been better; for, finding the men thus in a kind\nof a cabal, he takes four of his men with muskets on their shoulders,\nlike the governor's men, and goes with them to the Englishmen's boat,\nand asks for their officer, the second mate, who, upon this, appears. He\ntells them he comes from the governor, to know if they were Englishmen,\nand what their business was on shore there: the mate answered, they came\nfrom on board the English ship, that they were driven there by stress of\nweather, and hoped they might have leave to fill water and buy\nnecessaries for their money.\nHe told them he supposed the governor would not refuse them when he knew\nwho they were, but that it was but good manners to ask leave: the\nEnglishman told him, that he had not yet filled any water or bought any\nprovisions, and that he had a letter to the governor from the captain,\nwhich he supposed was to pay the usual civilities to him, and to give\nhim the civility of taking leave, as was expected.\nThe Dutchman answered, that was hael weel; that he might go and carry\nit, if he pleased, then, and, if the governor gave them leave, all was\nright and as it should be; but that the men could not be admitted to\ncome on shore till his return.\nUpon this, away goes the second mate of our ship and three of the men\nwith him, whereof the gunner was one; for he had asked the Dutchman how\nmany he might carry with him, and he told him three or four: and those\nhe took you may be sure, were of the particular men whom he had a\nconfidence in, because of their conversing together by the way.\nWhen they came to the governor, the mate sent in a message first, viz.,\nthat he was come from on board the English ship in the road, and that\nhe had a letter from the captain to his excellence.\nThe governor, who had notice given him of the business, sends out word,\nthat the gentlemen should send in the letter, and the governor would\ngive them an answer: in the mean time, there appeared a guard of\nsoldiers at the governor's house, and the four Englishmen were let into\nthe outer room, where the door was shut after them, and the soldiers\nstood without the door, and more soldiers in another room between them\nand the parlour which the governor sat in.\nAfter some time, the mate was called in, and the governor told him that\nhe had read the letter which he brought, and asked him if he knew the\ncontents of it; he answered, No: the governor replied, he supposed not,\nfor, if he had, he would scarce have brought it; at the same time told\nhim, he was obliged to make him and all his men prisoners, at the\nrequest of their own captain, for a conspiracy to raise a mutiny and run\naway with the ship. Upon which, two great fat Dutchmen came up to him,\nand bid him deliver his sword, which he did with some reluctance; for he\nwas a stout strong fellow; but he saw it all to no purpose to dispute or\nresist.\nAt the same time, the three men without were made prisoners also by the\nsoldiers. When the governor had thus secured these men, he called them\nin, and inquired the particulars of the case, and expostulated with them\nvery pathetically upon such a horrid, villanous design, and inquired of\nthem what the occasion could be; and, hearing all they had to say in\ntheir defence, told them he could do nothing more in it till their\ncaptain came on shore, which would be in a day or two, and that, in the\nmean time, they must be content to remain in custody, which they did,\nseparated from one another. They were very civilly treated, but strictly\nkept from speaking or sending any messages to one another, or to the\nboats.\nWhen this was accomplished, the governor sent six files of musketeers\ndown to the watering-place, with an order to secure all the Englishmen\nin the two boats, which was done. They seemed inclined to make some\nresistance at first, being all very well armed; but the seamen of the\nthree Dutch long-boats, joining themselves to the soldiers, and notice\nbeing given the English seamen, that if they fired one gun, they should\nhave no quarter; and especially their two principal men, the chief mate\nand the gunner, being absent, they submitted, and were all made\nprisoners also.\nWhen this was done, of which the Dutch captain had notice by a signal\nfrom the shore, he came off in his shallop, with about sixteen seamen,\nand five or six gentlemen and officers, to pay his visit to me. I\nreceived him with all the appearance of ceremony imaginable, ordered an\nelegant dinner to be prepared for him, and caused his men to be all\ntreated upon the deck, and made mighty preparations for the feast.\nBut in the middle of all this, Captain Merlotte, with all his Frenchmen,\nbeing thirty-two, appeared in arms on the quarter-deck; the Dutch\ncaptain's attendants stood to their arms on the main-deck, and I, with\nthe supercargo, the doctor, and the other captain, leaving the Dutch\ncaptain and some men in the great cabin as a reserve, came to the\nsteerage door, cleared the steerage behind me, and stood there with a\ncutlass in my hand, but said nothing; neither was there a word spoke\nanywhere all the while.\nIn this juncture, the chief mate, the faithful midshipmen, the\ncarpenter, and the gunner's mate, with about twenty men whom they could\ntrust, went fore and aft between decks, and secured all the particular\nmen that we had the least suspicion of, being no less than thirty-five\nmore. These they secured, bringing them up into the steerage, where\ntheir hands were tied behind them, and they were commanded not to speak\na word to one another upon pain of present death.\nWhen this was done, the chief mate came to me to the steerage door, and\npassing by, went forward with his men, entered the cook-room, and posted\nhimself at the cook-room door. There might be still about eighty men\nupon the forecastle and midships upon the open decks; and there they\nstood staring, and surprised at what was doing, but not being able to\nguess in the least what was meant, what was the cause of it, or what was\nintended to be done farther.\nWhen I found all things ready, I moved forward a step or two, and\nbeckoning to the mate to command silence, I told the men that I was not\ndisposed to hurt any man, nor had I done what I now did, but by\nnecessity, and that I expected they should all submit; that, if any one\nof them made the least resistance, he was a dead man; but that, if they\nwould be easy and quiet, I should give a very good account to them all,\nof every part of the voyage, or scheme of a voyage, which I had laid,\nand which had been so ill represented to them.\nThen I caused my commissioner letter of mart to be read to them all, by\nwhich it appeared that I was really chief commander of the ship, and had\na right to direct the voyage as I thought best; with a paper of written\ninstructions, signed by the owners and adventurers, and directed to me,\nwith another paper of instructions to all the officers, to be directed\nby me in all things; which, indeed, was all news to them, for they did\nnot think I was the chief captain or commander of the ship and voyage.\nWhen I had done this, I gave them a long and full account of the reasons\nwhy I thought it best, as our present circumstances were stated, not to\ngo to the South Seas first, but to go away to the Philippine Islands,\nand what great prospect of advantage to the owners there was, as well as\nto the men; and that I wondered much that such measures were taken in\nthe ship as I heard there were; and that I was not, they might see,\nunprovided of means to reduce every one of them to their duty by force,\nand to punish those that were guilty, as they deserved, but that I\nrather desired to win them with kindness; and that, therefore, I had\nresolved, that if any of them had any reason to dislike the voyage, they\nshould be safely set on shore, and suffered to go to the second mate and\nhis comrades: and farther, I told them what circumstances they were in\nand how effectually they were secured.\nThis astonished them, and surprised them exceedingly, and some of them\ninquired more particularly into the circumstances of the said second\nmate and his fellows: I told them they were safe enough, and should\nremain so; for, as I could prove they had all a villanous design to run\naway with the ship, and set me on shore, either here, or in a worse\nplace, I thought that only upon account of my own safety, such men were\nnot fit to go in the ship, being once capable to entertain such horrid\nmischievous thoughts, or that could be guilty of such a villany; and\nthat, if any of them were of their minds, they were very welcome, if\nthey thought fit, to go to them.\nAt this offer, some bold rogues upon the forecastle, which I did not\ndiscern, by reason of the number that stood there, cried out, _One and\nall_, which was a cry, at the same time, of mutiny and rebellion, that\nwas certain, and in its kind very dangerous.\nHowever, to let them see I was not to be daunted with it, I called out\nto one of the men among them, whom I saw upon the forecastle; You Jones,\nsaid I, tell me who they are, and come away from them, for I will make\nan example of them, whoever they are. Will Jones slunk in among the\nrest, and made me no answer, and immediately _One and all_ was cried\nagain, and a little huzza with it, and some of the men appeared to have\nfire-arms with them. There was a great many of them, and I presently\nforesaw, that, if I went to the extremity, I should spoil the voyage,\nthough I conquered them; so I bridled my passion with all my power, and\nsaid calmly, Very well, gentlemen, let me know what you mean by _one and\nall_? I offered any of you that did not like to go the voyage to quit\nthe ship; is that what you intend by _one and all_? If so, you are\nwelcome, and pray take care to do it immediately; as for what chests or\nclothes you have in the ship, you shall have them all with you. Upon\nthis I made the chief mate, who was now come to me again, advance a\nlittle with some more men, and get between the men upon the forecastle\nand those who were upon the main deck; and, as if he had wanted room,\nwhen he had gotten between them, he said to them, Stand aft a little,\ngentlemen, and so crowded them towards me.\nAs they came nearer and nearer to where I stood, I had an opportunity to\nspeak to them singly, which I did calmly and smilingly.\nWhy, how now, Tom, says I, to one of them; what are you among the\nmutineers?\nLord, sir, says Tom, not I, they are mad, I think; I have nothing to say\nto them; I care not where I go, not I; I will go round the globe with\nyou, it's all one to me.\nWell, Tom, says I, but what do you do among them then? come away into\nthe steerage, and show yourself an honest man.\nSo Tom comes in, and after him another, and then two more. Upon my\nsaying to Tom, What do you do among them? one of the fellows says to one\nof the officers that stood at a little distance from me, What does the\ncaptain mean by saying, among them? What, does he reckon us to be in the\nplot? He is quite wrong, we are all ignorant, and surprised at it. He\nimmediately tells me this, and I was glad, you may be sure, to hear it,\nand said aloud to the man that he spoke to, If they are honest men, and\nwould not appear in this villany, let them go down between decks, and\nget out of the way, that they may have no share in the punishment, if\nthey have none in the crime. With all my heart, says one; God bless you,\ncaptain, says another, and away they dropt one by one in at the steerage\ndoor, and down between decks, every one in his hammock or cabin, till\nthere were not above five or six of them left.\nBy this time, our two boats appeared from the shore, being both manned\nwith Dutchmen, viz. the Dutch captain's mate and about twenty of his\nmen, all the water casks full, but not a man of mine with them, for they\nwere left on shore in safe custody.\nI waited till they came on board, and then turning to the men on the\nforecastle, I told them they should go on board the boats immediately,\nas soon as the butts of water were hoisted in. They still said, _One and\nall_, they were ready, desired they might go and fetch their clothes.\nNo, no, says I, not a man of you shall set your foot any more into the\nship; but go get you into the boat, and what is your own shall be given\nyou into the boat.\nAs I spoke this in an angry tone, and with a kind of passion, that\nbespoke resentment to a high degree, they began to see they had no\nopportunity to choose; and some of them slipt down the scuttle into the\ncook-room. I had ordered the officer who was there, who was one of the\nmidshipmen, to wink at it, and let as many come down as offered it; and\nthe honest man did more than that, for he went to the scuttle himself,\nand, as if he had whispered, so that I should not hear him, called them\none by one by their names, and argued with them; Prithee, Jack, says he\nto one of them, do not you be distracted, and ruin yourself to gratify a\nrash drunken humour; if you go into the boat you are undone; you will be\nseized as soon as you come on shore, as the rest are, and will be sent\nto England in irons, and there you will be infallibly hanged; why you\nare certainly all mad.\nJack replies, he had no design to mutiny, but the second mate drew him\nin, and he did not know what to do, he wished he had not meddled; he\nknew he was undone; but now what could he do?\nDo, says the midshipman, leave them for shame, and slip down here, and\nI will see and get you off if I can.\nAccordingly he pulled him down, and after him so many got out of sight\nthe same way, that there was not above seventeen or eighteen left upon\nthe forecastle.\nI seemed to take no notice of that, till at last one of the men that was\nleft there, with his hat or cap in his hand, stepping just to the edge\nof the forecastle, which was next to me, said, in a very respectful\nmanner, that I saw how many had slunk away and made their peace, or at\nleast obtained pardon, and that I might, perhaps, know that they who\nwere left were only such as had their duty there, being placed there of\ncourse before the mutiny began, and that they had no hand in it, but\nabhorred it with all their hearts, which he hoped I would consider, and\nnot join them with those that had offended, merely because they came\nupon the forecastle, and mixed there with the men who had the watch.\nI told him, if that was true, it would be in their favour, but I\nexpected he would prove it to my satisfaction before I accepted that for\nan excuse. He told me, it might, perhaps, be hard to prove it, seeing\nthe boatswain and his mate, and the second mate, were gone, but the rest\nof the ship's crew could all testify that they were a part of the men\nwhose watch it was, and that they were upon the forecastle by the\nnecessity of their duty, and no otherwise; and called several men who\nwere upon duty with them to witness it, who did confirm it.\nUpon this, I found myself under a necessity, in justice to the men, to\napprove it; but my own management was a bite upon myself in it; for,\nthough I did allow the midshipman to wink at their slipping away, as\nbefore, yet I made no question but I should have some left to make\nexamples of; but as I could not go back from the promise of mercy which\nI had allowed the midshipman to offer in my name, so I tricked myself by\ntheir mistake into a necessity of pardoning them all, which was very far\nfrom my design; but there was no remedy.\nHowever, the men, when they were so happily escaped, desired the\nmidshipman, who had been instrumental to their deliverance, to assure\nme, that as they were sensible that they had deserved very ill at my\nhands, and that yet I had treated them thus kindly, they would not only\nreveal to me all the particulars of the conspiracy, and the names of\nthose principally concerned in it, but that they would assure me they\nwould never more dispute any of my measures, but were very ready to do\ntheir duty as seamen, to what part of the world soever I might think fit\nto go, or which way I thought fit to carry them, whether outward or\nhomeward; and that they gave me the tender of their duty in this manner\nwith the utmost sincerity and with thankfulness, for my having forgiven\nthem that conduct which was the worst that a seamen could be guilty of.\nI took this very kindly, and sent them word I did so, and that they\nshould see they had taken the wiser course; that I had an entire\nconfidence in their fidelity; and that they should never find I would\nreproach them with, or use them the worse for, what had past.\nI must confess, I was very glad of this submission of the men; for\nthough, by the measures I had taken, I was satisfied I should conquer\nthem, and that I was safe from their attempts; yet, carrying it on by\nresentment, and doing justice upon the offenders, whatever advantage it\nhad one way, had this disadvantage in the consequence; viz., that it\nwould ruin the voyage, for at least half the men were in the plot.\nHaving thus conquered them by good usage, I thought my next work was to\ninquire into the mistakes which had been the foundation of all this: so,\nbefore I parted with the men who had returned to their duty, I told\nthem, that as I had freely forgiven what was past, so I would keep my\nword, that I would never reproach them with it; but that I thought it\nwas necessary their judgments should be convinced how much they were\nimposed upon, as well as their tempers be reduced by my kindness to\nthem. That I was of the opinion that they had been abused in the account\ngiven them of what I had designed to do, and of the reasons I had to\ngive for doing it; and I would desire them to let me know afterwards,\nwhether they had been faithfully informed or not; and whether in their\nown judgment, now when they were freed from the prepossessions they were\nunder, they could object anything against it or no.\nThis I did with respect to the other men whom I had made prisoners in\nthe steerage, whom I had the same design to be kind to as I had to\nthese; but upon whom I resolved to work this way, because, after all, I\nmight have this work to do over again, if I should meet with any\ndisappointment or miscarriage in the voyage; or especially, if we should\nbe put to any difficulties or distresses in the pursuing it.\nIn order to this I caused the voyage itself, and the reasons of it, the\nnature of the trade I was to carry on by it, the pursuit of it to the\nSouth Seas, and, in a word, everything just as we had argued and settled\nit in the great cabin, to be put into writing and read to them.\nThe fellows, every one of them, declared they were fully satisfied in\nthe voyage itself, and that my reasons for it were perfectly good; and\nthat they had received a quite different account of it; as that I would\ncarry them into the island of the Moluccas, which was the most unhealthy\npart of the East Indies; that I would go away to the south for new\ndiscoveries; and that I would go away thence to the South Seas; which\nwas a voyage of such a length, that no ship could victual for; that it\nwas impossible to carry fresh water such a length; and, in a word, that\nit was a voyage that would destroy us all.\nIt was the chief mate and the midshipman who took them all down the\nscuttle, that brought me this account from them: so I made him take two\nof those penitent mutineers with him, and go to the men in the steerage,\nwhom he had made prisoners at first, and see whether their delusions\nwere of the same kind, and what kind of temper they were in;\naccordingly, he went to them directly, for this was not a business that\nadmitted giving them time to club and cabal together, and form other\nsocieties or combinations which might have consequences fatal to us\nstill.\nWhen he came to them, he told them, the captain was willing to do all\nthe justice possible to his men, and to use them, on all occasions, with\nequity and kindness; that I had ordered him to inquire calmly what it\nwas had moved them to these disorders, and what it was which they had\nbeen made to believe was doing, that they could enter into measures so\ndestructive to themselves, and to those who had intrusted them all with\nthe ship and cargo; for that, in a voyage, every foremast-man, in his\ndegree, is trusted with the safety of the whole ship.\nThey answered it was the second mate; that they had never shown\nthemselves discontented, much less disorderly, in the ship; that they\nhad, on all occasions, done their duty through the whole voyage till\nnow; and that they had no ill design upon any one, much less had they\nany design to destroy the voyage, or injure the captain; but that they\nwere all told by the second mate, that the captain had imposed upon\nthem, by proposing a mad voyage to the south pole, that would be the\ndeath of them all, and that they were to lay aside the trading and\ncruising voyages which they came out upon, and were now to spend the\nwhole voyage in new discoveries; by which the men could propose nothing\nto themselves but hardships, and perhaps perishing with hunger and cold;\nwhereas, had they gone to the South Seas as was intended, they might all\nhave been made; and that the hazards, with that prospect, had some\nconsolation in them; whereas, in this project, there was nothing but\ncertain destruction.\nThe mate delivered them a copy of the scheme I had proposed, the reasons\nof it, the trade I had designed, the return I was to make, and\neverything, as I have already mentioned, and bade them take it and\nconsider of it.\nAs I was justly provoked to see how I had been abused and misrepresented\nto the men, so they were astonished when they read my scheme, and saw\nwhat mischiefs they had been led into, for they knew not what, and\nwithout any reason or just consideration: and, after they had debated\nthings awhile among themselves, they desired the chief mate might come\nto them again, which he did; then they told him, that as they had been\nthus grossly abused, and drawn into mischiefs which they never designed,\nby such plausible pretences, and by being told such a long story full of\nlies, and to carry on an infernal project of the second mate's, they\nhoped their being so much imposed upon would a little extenuate their\nfault; that they were convinced the captain had proposed nothing but\nwhat was very rational, and a voyage that might be very profitable to\nthe owners and to every individual; and they entirely threw themselves\nupon the captain's mercy, and humbly begged pardon; that, if I pleased\nto forgive them, they would endeavour to merit such forgiveness by their\nfuture behaviour; and that, in the mean time, they submitted to what\npunishment I pleased to lay upon them: and, particularly, that, as they\nhad forfeited, by their conspiracy, all the claims they had upon the\nship, and might justly have been turned on shore at the first land they\ncame to, they were willing to sign a discharge for all their wages due\nto them, which was now near eight months a man, and to be considered for\nthe rest of the voyage as they deserved: that they would all take a\nsolemn oath of fidelity to me to do their duty, to go wherever I would\ncarry them, and to behave with the greatest submission and diligence, in\nhopes to regain my favour by their future behaviour, and to show their\ngratitude for the pardon I should grant them.\nThis was, indeed, just as I would have it, for I wanted nothing more\nthan to have something offered, which I might give them back again; for\nI ever thought, and have found it by experience, to be the best way; and\nmen were always secured in their duty by a generous kindness, better\nthan by absolute dominion and severity: indeed, my opinion was justified\nin all the measures I took with these men; for as I found they were\nsufficiently humbled, and that I had brought them low enough, I let them\nknow that it was not their punishment but their amendment I desired;\nthat I scorned to make a prey of them, and take that forfeiture they had\noffered, by putting the wages due to them for their labour in my pocket.\nI then sent them word I was very glad to hear that they were sensible\nhow much they had been imposed upon; that, as it was not my design to\noffer anything to them which they or any honest men ought to refuse, so\nit was not my desire to make any advantages of their follies but what\nmight tend to bring them back to their duty; that, as I had no prospect\nthat was inconsistent with their safety and interest, so I scorned to\nmake an advantage of their submission; that as to their wages, though\nthey had forfeited them by their mutiny, yet God forbid I should convert\nthem to my own profit; and since forgiving their offence was in my\npower, the crime being in one particular an offence against me, they\nshould never be able to say I made a gain of their submission, and, like\nthe Pope, should sell them my pardon; that, upon their solemnly engaging\nto me never to offer the least disturbance of any kind in the ship for\nthe future, but to do their duty faithfully and cheerfully, I would\nforget all that was passed; only this I expected, that two of them, who\nwere particularly guilty of threatening the life of Captain Merlotte,\nshould be punished as they deserved.\nThey could not deny but this was most just; and they did not so much as\noffer to intercede for those two; but, when one of the two moved the\nrest to petition for them, they answered they could not do it, for they\nhad received favour enough for themselves, and they could not desire\nanything of the captain for their sakes, for they had all deserved\npunishment as well as they.\nIn a word, the two men were brought upon deck, and soundly whipped and\npickled; and they all proved very honest ever after: and these, as I\nsaid at first, were two-and-thirty in all.\nAll this while Captain Merlotte with his Frenchmen were in arms, and had\npossession on the quarter-deck to the number of twenty-three stout men;\nI had possession of the main-deck with eighteen men and the sixteen\nDutchmen, and my chief mate with the midshipman, had possession of the\ncook-room and quarter-deck; the Dutch captain, our supercargo, the\nsurgeon, and the other captain, kept the great cabins with a guard of\ntwelve musketeers without the door, and about eight more within, besides\nservants. Captain Merlotte's man also had a guard of eight men in the\nroundhouse. I had now nothing to do but with my men who were on shore;\nand of these, six were no way culpable, being men not embarked in the\ndesign, but carried on shore by the chief mate, with a design to engage\nthem with him; so that, indeed, they fell into a punishment before they\nfell into the crime, and what to do with these men was a nice point to\nmanage.\nThe first thing I did, was to dismiss my visitor, the Dutch captain,\nwhom I had a great deal of reason to think myself exceedingly obliged\nto: and, first, I handsomely rewarded his men, to whom I gave four\npieces of eight a man; and having waited on the captain to the ship's\nside, and seen him into his boat, I fired him twenty-one guns at his\ngoing off; for which he fired twenty-five when he came on board his\nship.\nThe same afternoon I sent my pinnace on board him for my drunken\ncockswain, and with the pinnace I sent the captain three dozen bottles\nof English beer, and a quarter cask of Canary, which was the best\npresent I had to make him; and sent every one of his other seamen a\npiece of eight per man; and, indeed, the assistance I had from the ship\ndeserved it; and to the mate, who acted so bravely with my men on\nshore, I sent fifty pieces of eight.\nThe next day I went on shore to pay my respects to the governor, when I\nhad all the prisoners delivered up to me. Six men I caused to be\nimmediately set at liberty, as having been innocent, and brought all the\nrest on board, tied hand and foot, as prisoners, and continued them so,\na great while afterward, as the reader will find. As for the second\nmate, I tried him formally by a council of war, as I was empowered by my\ncommission to do, and sentenced him to be hanged at the yard-arm: and\nthough I suspended the execution from day to day, yet I kept him in\nexpectation of the halter every hour; which, to some, would have been as\ngrievous as the hanging itself.\nThus we conquered this desperate mutiny, all principally proceeding from\nsuffering the private disputes among ourselves, which ought to have been\nthe arcana of the whole voyage, and kept as secret as death itself could\nhave kept it, I mean so as not to come among the seamen afore the mast.\nWe lay here twelve days, during which time we took in fresh water as\nmuch as we had casks for, and were able to stow. On the 13th day of\nAugust, we weighed and stood away to the east, designing to make no land\nany more till we came to Java Head, and the Straits of Sunda, for that\nway we intended to sail; but the wind sprung up at E. and E. S. E., and\nblew so fresh, that we were obliged, after two days' beating against it,\nto bear away afore it, and run back to the Cape of Good Hope.\nWhile we were here, there came in two Dutch East Indiamen more,\nhomeward-bound, to whom had happened a very odd accident.\nThey had been attacked by a large ship of forty-four guns, and a stout\nsloop of eight guns; the Dutch ships resolving to assist one another,\nstood up to the Frenchman, (for such it seems he was,) and fought him\nvery warmly. The engagement lasted six or seven hours; in which the\nprivateer had killed them some men; but in the heat of the fight, the\nsloop received a shot, which brought her mainmast by the board; and this\ncaused the captain of the frigate to sheer off, fearing his sloop would\nbe taken; but the sloop's men took care of themselves, for, hauling a\nlittle out of the fight, they got into their own boats, and a boat which\nthe frigate sent to their help, and abandoned the sloop; which the\nDutchmen perceiving, they manned out their boats, and sent and took the\nsloop with all that was in her, and brought her away with them.\nThe Dutchmen came into the road at the Cape with this prize while our\nship was there the second time; and we saw them bringing the sloop in\ntow, having no mast standing, but a little pole-mast set up for the\npresent, and her mizen, which was also disabled, and of little use to\nher.\nI no sooner saw her, but it came into my thoughts, that, if she was\nanything of a sea-boat, she would do our business to a tittle; and, as\nwe had always resolved to get another ship, but had been disappointed,\nthis would answer our end exactly; accordingly I went with my chief\nmate, in our shallop, on board my old acquaintance the Dutch captain,\nand inquiring there, was informed that it was a prize taken, and that in\nall probability the captain that took her would be glad to part with\nher; and the captain promised me to go on board the ship that brought\nher in, and inquire about it, and let me know.\nAccordingly, the next morning the captain sent me word I might have her;\nthat she carried eight guns, had good store of provisions on board, with\nammunition sufficient, and I might have her and all that was in her for\ntwelve hundred pieces of eight. In a word, I sent my chief mate back\nwith the same messenger and the money, giving him commission to pay for\nher, and take possession of her, if he liked her; and the Dutch captain,\nmy friend, lent him twelve men to bring her off to us, which they did\nthe same day.\nI was a little put to it for a mast for her, having not anything on\nboard we could spare that was fit for a main-mast; but resolving at last\nto mast her not as a sloop, but as a brigantine, we made shift with what\npieces we had, and a spare foretop-mast, which one of the Dutch ships\nhelped me to; so we fitted her up very handsomely, made her carry twelve\nguns, and put sixty men on board. One of the best things we found on\nboard her, were casks, which we greatly wanted, especially for\nbarrelling up beef and other provisions, which we found very difficult;\nbut our cooper eked them out with making some new ones out of her old\nones.\nAfter staying here sixteen days more, we sailed again. Indeed, I thought\nonce we should never have gone away at all; for it is certain above\nhalf the men in the ship had been made uneasy, and there remained still\nsome misunderstanding of my design, and a supposition of all the\nfrightful things the second mate had put in their heads; and, by his\nmeans, the boatswain and gunner.\nAs these three had the principal management of the conspiracy, and that\nI had pardoned all the rest, I had some thoughts of making an example of\nthese; I took care to let them know it, too, in a manner that they had\nno room to think it was in jest, but I intended to have them all three\nhanged; and I kept them above three weeks in suspense about it: however,\nas I had no intention to put them to death, I thought it was a piece of\ncruelty, something worse than death, to keep them continually in\nexpectation of it, and in a place too where they had but little more\nthan room to breathe.\nSo, having been seventeen days gone from the Cape, I resolved to relieve\nthem a little, and yet at the same time remove them out of the way of\ndoing me any capital injury, if they should have any such design still\nin their heads. For this purpose, I caused them to be removed out of the\nship into brigantine, and there I permitted them to have a little more\nliberty than they had on board the great ship; and where two of them\nentered into another conspiracy, as wild and foolish as ever I heard of,\nor as, perhaps, was ever heard of by any other; but of this I shall say\nmore in its place.\nWe were now to sail in company, and we went away from the Cape, the 3rd\nof September, 1714. We found the brigantine was an excellent sea-boat,\nand could bear the weather to a miracle, and no bad sailer; she kept\npace with us on all occasions, and in a storm we had at S. S. E., some\ndays after, she shifted as well as we did in the great ship, which made\nus all well pleased with her.\nThis storm drove us away to the northward; and I once thought we should\nhave been driven back to the Cape again; which, if it had happened, I\nbelieve we should never have gone on with the voyage; for the men began\nto murmur again, and say we were bewitched; that we were beaten off\nfirst from the south of America, that we could never get round there,\nand now driven back from the south of Africa; so that, in short, it\nlooked as if fate had determined this voyage to be pursued no farther.\nThe wind continued, and blew exceeding hard: and, in short, we were\ndriven so far to the north, that we made the south point of the island\nof Madagascar.\nMy pilot knew it to be Madagascar as soon as he had a clear view of the\nland; and, having beaten so long against the sea to no purpose, and\nbeing in want of many things, we resolved to put in; and accordingly\nmade for Port St. Augustine, on the west side of the island, where we\ncame to an anchor in eleven fathom water, and a very good road.\nI could not be without a great many anxious thoughts upon our coming\ninto this island; for I knew very well that there was a gang of\ndesperate rogues here, especially on the northern coast, who had been\nfamous for their piracies; and I did not know but that they might be\neither strong enough as pirates to take us, or rogues enough to entice a\ngreat many of my men to run away; so I resolved neither to come near\nenough the shore to be surprised, nor to suffer any of my men to go on\nshore, such excepted as I could be very secure of.\nBut I was soon informed by a Dutchman, who came off to me with some of\nthe natives in a kind of canvass boat, that there were no Europeans\nthere but himself, and the pirates were on the north part of the island;\nthat they had no ship with them of any force, and that they would be\nglad to be fetched off by any Christian ship; that they were not above\ntwo hundred in number, their chief leaders, with the only ships of force\nthey had, being out a cruising on the coast of Arabia, and the Gulf of\nPersia.\nAfter this, I went on shore myself with Captain Merlotte, and some of\nthe men whom I could trust; and we found it true as the Dutchman had\nrelated. The Dutchman gave us a long history of his adventures, and how\nhe came to be left there by a ship he came in from Europe, which, he\nrunning up into the country for sport with three more of his comrades,\nwent away without them, and left them among the natives, who, however,\nused them extremely well; and that now he served them for an interpreter\nand a broker, to bargain for them with the European ships for\nprovisions. Accordingly, he engaged to bring us what provisions we\npleased, and proposed such trinkets in return as he knew the natives\ndesired, and as were of value little enough to us; but he desired a\nconsideration for himself in money, which, though it was of no use to\nhim there, he said it might be hereafter; and, as his demand was but\ntwenty pieces of eight, we thought he very well deserved them.\nHere we bought a great quantity of beef, which, having no casks to\nspare, we salted, and then cured it in the sun, by the Dutchman's\ndirection, and it proved of excellent use to us through the whole\nvoyage; for we kept some of it till we came to England, but it was then\nso hard, that a good hatchet would hardly cut it.\nWhile we lay here, it came into my thoughts, that now was a good time to\nexecute justice upon my prisoners; so I called up the officers to a kind\nof council of war, and proposed it to them in general terms, not letting\nthem know my mind as to the manner of it. They all agreed it was\nnecessary, and the second mate, boatswain, and gunner, had so much\nintelligence of it from the men, that they prepared for death as much as\nif I had signed a dead-warrant for their execution, and that they were\nto be hanged at the yard-arm.\nBut, in the midst of those resolves, I told the council of officers, my\ndesign was to the north part of the island, where a gang of pirates were\nsaid to be settled, and that I was persuaded I might get a good ship\namong them, and as many men as we desired, for that I was satisfied the\ngreatest part of them were so wearied of their present situation, that\nthey would be glad of an opportunity to come away, and especially such\nas had, either by force, or rash, hasty resolutions, been, as it were,\nsurprised into that sort of life; that I had been informed they were\nvery far from being in such a formidable posture as they had been\nrepresented to us in Europe, or anything near so numerous; but that, on\nthe contrary, we should find them poor, divided, in distress, and\nwilling to get away upon any terms they could.\nSome of the officers of the ship differed from me in my opinion. They\nhad received such ideas of the figure those people made in Madagascar,\nfrom the common report in England, that they had no notion of them, but\nas of a little commonwealth of robbers; that they were immensely rich;\nthat Captain Avery was king of the Island; that they were eight thousand\nmen; that they had a good squadron of stout ships, and that they were\nable to resist a whole fleet of men of war; having a harbour so well\nfortified at the entrance into it, that there was no coming at them\nwithout a good army for land-service, to assist in the enterprise.\nI convinced them how impossible this was to be true, and told them all\nthe discourse I had with the Dutchman, at the place where I now was, who\nhad received a full account of the particulars from several of them who\nhad come down to St. Augustine's in little boats in order to make their\nescape from their comrades, and to get passage for Europe; that he had\nalways assisted, and got them off, whenever any ship touched at that\nport; and that they all agreed in their relation of their state and\ncondition, which was indeed miserable enough, saving that they wanted\nnot for victuals.\nIn a word, I soon brought them to enter into the reason of it, and to be\nof my opinion; and, accordingly, I ordered to get ready, and in three\ndays' time weighed anchor, and stood away for the north of the island,\ntaking care not to communicate our debates and resolves to the men\nbefore the mast, as had been done before, we having had enough of that\nalready.\nWhile we were thus coasting the island to the north, and in the channel\nor sea between the island and the main of Africa, it came into my\nthoughts, that I might now make use of my traitors to my advantage and\ntheir own too, and that I might, if they were honest, gain my end, and\nget a full intelligence of the people I had my eye upon; and, if they\nwere still traitors, they would desert and go over to the pirates, and I\nshould be well rid of them, without the necessity of bringing them to\nthe yard-arm; for I was very uneasy in my mind about hanging them, nor\ncould I ever have been brought to do it, I believe, whatever risk I had\nrun from their mutinous disposition.\nI was now got in the latitude of fifteen degrees and a half south of the\nline, and began to think of standing in for the shore; when I ordered\nthe second mate, who lay in irons in the brigantine, to be brought on\nboard the great ship, and to be called up into the great cabin. He came\nin great concern, though he was of himself a very bold and resolute\nfellow, yet, as he made no doubt that he was sent for to execution, he\nappeared thoroughly softened, and quite another man than he was before.\nWhen he was brought in, I caused him to be set down in a nook of the\ncabin where he could not stir to offer any violence to me, had he been\nso inclined, two large chests being just before him; and I ordered all\nmy people to withdraw, except Captain Merlotte and the supercargo; and\nthen, turning myself to the criminal, I told him, as he knew his\ncircumstances, I need not repeat them, and the fact for which he was\nbrought into that condition; that I had hitherto, from time to time,\ndelayed his execution, contrary to the opinion of the rest of the chief\nofficers, who in full council had unanimously condemned him; that a\nsudden thought had come into my mind, which, if he knew how to merit\nmercy, and to retrieve his circumstances by his future fidelity, might\nonce again put it into his power, not only to save his life, but to be\ntrusted in the ship again, if he inclined to be honest; that, however,\nif he had no inclination to merit by his service, I would put it to his\nchoice, either to undertake with courage and fidelity what I had to\npropose to him, in which case he might expect to be very well treated,\nor, if not, I would pardon him as to the death he had reason to expect,\nand he with his two fellow-criminals should be set on shore to go\nwhither they pleased.\nHe waited, without offering to speak a word, till I made a full stop,\nand then asked me if I gave him leave to answer.\nI told him he might say whatever he thought proper.\nThen he asked if I gave him leave to speak freely, and would not take\noffence at what he might say? I replied, he should speak as freely as if\nhe had never offended; and that, as I had given him his life, I now\nwould give him my word, nothing he could say should revoke the grant;\nand that he should not only go freely on shore, (for I expected by his\nwords that he had made that choice) but I would give him the lives of\nhis two fellow-prisoners; and would give them arms and ammunition, and\nanything else that was reasonable for them to ask, or necessary to their\nsubsisting on shore in such a country.\nHe told me then, that had it been any other part of the world than at\nMadagascar, he would readily have chosen to have gone on shore; nay,\nthough the place had been really desolate and uninhabited; that he did\nnot object because my offer was not very generous and kind, and that it\nwould be always with regret that he should look back upon the mercy he\nshould have received, and how ill he had deserved it at my hands.\nBut that as it was at this place that I mentioned setting him at\nliberty, he told me, that though he had been mutinous and disorderly,\nfor which he had acknowledged he had deserved to die, yet he hoped I\ncould not think so ill of him as to believe he could turn pirate; and\nbegged that, rather than entertain such hard thoughts of him, I would\nexecute the worst part of the sentence, and send him out of the world a\npenitent and an honest man, which he should esteem far better than to\ngive him his life in a condition in which he could preserve it upon no\nother terms than those of being the worst of villains. He added, that if\nthere was anything he could do to deserve so much mercy as I intended\nhim, he begged me that I would give him room to behave himself as became\nhim, and he would leave it wholly to me to use him as he should deserve,\neven to the recalling the pardon that I had granted him.\nI was extremely satisfied with what he said, and more particularly with\nthe manner of his speaking it; I told him I was glad to see that he had\na principle of so much honesty at the bottom of a part so unhappy as he\nhad acted; and I would be very far from prompting him to turn pirate,\nand much more from forcing him to do so, and that I would, according to\nhis desire, put an opportunity into his hands to show himself a new man,\nand, by his fidelity, to wipe out all that was past. And then, without\nany more ceremony, I told him my whole design, which was, to send him,\nand four or five more men with him, on shore among the pirates as spies,\nto see what condition they were in, and to see whether there were any\napprehensions of violence from them, or whether they were in the mean\ncircumstances that I had reason to believe they were in; and, lastly,\nwhether they had any ship or vessel which might be bought of them, and\nwhether men might be had to increase our company; that is to say, such\nmen as, being penitent for their rogueries and tired with their\nmiseries, would be glad of the opportunity of turning honest men before\nthey were brought to it by distress and the gallows.\nHe embraced the offer with the greatest readiness, and gave me all the\nassurances that I could desire of his fidelity. I then asked him whether\nhe thought his two fellow-prisoners might be trusted upon the same\nconditions.\nIn reply, he asked me if I would take it for a piece of sincerity, if,\nafter a trial, he should tell me his mind, and would not be displeased\nif he declined speaking his thoughts till he had talked with them.\nI told him he should be at liberty to give his farther answer after he\nhad proposed it to them; but I insisted upon his opinion first, because\nit was only his opinion that I asked now; whereas, if he reported it to\nthem, then he had no more to do but to report their answer.\nHe then asked me if I would please to grant him one thing, that,\nwhatever his opinion should be, what he should say should be no\nprejudice to them in their present condition.\nI told him it was a reasonable caution in him, and I would assure him\nthat, whatever he said should not do them any prejudice; and, to\nconvince him of it, I gave him my word that I would not put them to\ndeath on any account whatsoever, merely for his sake.\nHe bowed, and thanked me very heartily for that grant, which, he said,\nobliged him to be the plainer with me on that head; and as, he said, he\nwould not deceive me in anything whatever, so he would not in this,\nespecially; and therefore told me it was his opinion, they would not\nserve me faithfully; and he referred me to the experience I should find\nof it; and added, that he would be so just to me in the beginning, as\nthat, while he begged to be merciful to them, yet for my own sake he\nwould also beg me not to trust them.\nI took the hint, and said no more at that time, but ordered his irons to\nbe taken off, with direction for him to have leave to go to his former\ncabin, and to have his chests and things restored to him; so that he was\nat full liberty in the ship, though not in any office, or appointed to\nany particular business.\nA day or two after this we made land, which appeared to be the\nnorth-west part of the island, in the latitude of 13\u00b0 30'; and now I\nthought it was time to put our design into execution; for I knew very\nwell that it could not be a great way from this part of the island where\nthe pirates were to be heard of: so I ordered the boat on shore, with\nabout sixteen men, to make discoveries, and with them my new-restored\nman.\nI gave him no instruction for anything extraordinary at this time, our\nwork now being only to find out where they were. The boat came on board\nagain at night, (for we had now stood in within two leagues of the\nshore) and brought us an account, that there were no English or\nEuropeans on that part of the island, but that they were to be heard of\na great way farther; so we stood away to the north all the night, and\nthe next day, the wind being fair and the sea smooth, and by our\nreckoning we went in that time about forty leagues.\nThe next evening, the same company went on shore again, and were shown\nby some of the natives where the pirates inhabited; which, in short, was\nabout five or six and twenty miles farther north still, in a river very\ncommodious for shipping, where they had five or six European-built\nships, and two or three sloops, but they were all laid up, except two\nsloops, with which they cruised sometimes a great distance off to the\nnorth, as far as the Arabian Gulf. The mate returned with this\nintelligence the same night; and by his direction we stood in as close\nunder the shore as we could conveniently, about six leagues farther\nnorth; here we found a very good road under a little cape, which kept us\nperfectly undiscovered; and in the morning, before day, my man went on\nshore again with the boat, and keeping only four men with him, sent the\nboat on board again, agreeing on a signal for us to send the boat for\nhim again when he should return.\nThere was a pretty high ledge of hills to the north of the place where\nhe landed, and which, running west, made the little cape, under the lee\nof which our ship rode at anchor.\nAs soon as he came to the top of those hills, he plainly discovered the\ncreek or harbour where the pirates' ships lay, and where they had formed\ntheir encampment on the shore. Our men took proper observations of the\nsituation of the place they were in, upon the hill, that they might not\nfail to find their way back again, though it were in the night; and\nthat, by agreeing in the account they should give of themselves, they\nmight be all found in the same tale. They boldly went down the hill, and\ncame to the edge of the creek, the pirates' camp being on the other\nshore.\nHere they fired a gun, to raise a kind of alarm among them, and then,\nhanging out a white cloth on the top of a pole, a signal of peace, they\nhailed them in English, and asked them if they would send a boat and\nfetch them over.\nThe pirates were surprised at the noise of the piece, and came running\nto the shore with all speed; but they were much more surprised when they\nheard themselves hailed in English. Upon the whole, they immediately\nsent a boat to fetch them over, and received them with a great deal of\nkindness.\nOur men pretended to be overjoyed at finding them there, told them a\nlong story, that they came on shore on the west side of the island,\nwhere, not far off, there were two English ships; but that the natives\nquarrelling with their men, upon some rudeness offered to their women,\nand they being separated from their fellows, were obliged to fly; that\nthe natives had surrounded the rest, and, they believed, had killed them\nall; that they wandered up to the top of the hill, intending to make\nsignals to their ship, to send them some help, when, seeing some ships,\nand believing some Europeans were there, they came down to take some\nshelter, and begged of them a boat to carry them round the cape to their\ncomrades, unless they would give them leave to stay with them, and do as\nthey did, which they were very willing to do.\nThis was all a made story; but, however, the tale told so well, that\nthey believed it thoroughly, and received our men very kindly, led them\nup to their camp, and gave them some victuals.\nOur men observed they had provisions enough, and very good, as well beef\nas mutton, that is to say, of goats' flesh, which was excellent; also\npork and veal; and they were tolerable good cooks too; for they found\nthey had built several furnaces and boilers, which they had taken out of\ntheir ships, and dressed a great quantity of meat at a time: but,\nobserving they had no liquor, the mate pulled a large bottle of good\ncordial water out of his pocket, and gave it about as far as it would\ngo, and so did two others of the men, which their new landlords took\nvery kindly.\nThey spent good part of the first day in looking about them, seeing the\nmanner of the pirates' living there, and their strength, and soon\nperceived that they were indeed in but a sorry condition every way,\nexcept that they had live cattle and flesh meat sufficient. They had a\ngood platform of guns indeed, and a covered pallisadoe round where they\nlodged their ammunition: but as for fortifications to the landward, they\nhad none, except a double pallisadoe round their camp, and a sort of a\nbank thrown up within to fire from, and stand covered from the enemies'\nlances, which was all they had to fear from the natives. They had no\nbread but what they made of rice, and the store they had of that was\nvery small: they told our men, indeed, that they had two ships abroad,\nwhich they expected back every day, with a quantity of rice, and what\nelse they could get, especially some arrack, which they were to trade\nfor with the Arabian merchants, or take it by force, which should first\noffer.\nOur men pretended to like their way of living mighty well and talked of\nstaying with them, if they would let them; and thus they passed their\nfirst day of meeting.\nOur men had two tents or huts given them to lodge in, and hammocks hung\nin the huts very agreeably, being such, I suppose, as belonged to some\nof their company who were dead, or were out upon adventure; here they\nslept very securely, and in the morning walked about, as strangers might\nbe suffered to do, to look about them. But my new manager's eye was\nchiefly here upon two things: first, to see if they had any shipping for\nour purpose; and, secondly, to see if he could pitch upon one man, more\nlikely than the rest, to enter into some confidence with; and it was not\nlong before he found an opportunity for both. The manner was thus:\nHe was walking by himself, having ordered his other men to straggle\naway, two and two, this way and that, as if they had not minded him,\nthough always to keep him in sight; I say, he walked by himself towards\nthat part of the creek where, as was said, three of their largest ships\nlay by the walls, and when he came to the shore right against them, he\nstood still, looking at them very earnestly.\nWhile he was here, he observed a boat put off from one of them, with\nfour oars and one sitter only, whom they set on shore just by him, and\nthen put off again; the person whom they set on shore, was, it seems,\none who had been with our men the evening before, but, having some\nparticular office on board one of those ships, lay on board every night\nwith about ten or twelve men, just to watch and guard the ship, and so\ncame on shore in the morning, as is usual in men-of-war laid up.\nAs soon as he saw our man he knew him, and spoke very familiarly to him;\nand seeing he was looking so earnestly at the ship, he asked him if he\nwould go on board; our man faintly declined it, as on purpose to be\nasked again, and upon just as much farther pressing as was sufficient to\nsatisfy him that the gunner (for that was his office) was in earnest,\nhe yielded; so the gunner called back the boat, and they went on board.\nOur man viewed the ship very particularly, and pretended to like\neverything he saw; but, after some conversation, asked him this home\nquestion, namely, Why they did not go to sea, and seek purchase, having\nso many good ships at their command?\nHe shook his head, and told him very frankly, that they were in no\ncondition to undertake anything, for that they were a crew of\nunresolved, divided rogues; that they were never two days of a mind;\nthat they had nobody to command, and therefore nobody to obey; that\nseveral things had been offered, but nothing concluded; that, in short,\nthey thought of nothing but of shifting every one for himself as well as\nhe could.\nMy mate replied, he thought it had been quite otherwise, and that made\nhim tell them the night before that he had an inclination to stay with\nthem.\nI heard you say so, said the gunner, and it made me smile; I thought in\nmyself that you would be of another mind when ye knew us a little\nbetter; for, in a word, said he, if our people should agree to lend you\na boat to go back to your ship, they would fall together by the ears\nabout who should go with you, for not a man of them that went with you\nwould ever come back again hither, if your captain would take them on\nboard, though the terms were, to be hanged when they came to England.\nMy mate knew that this was my opinion before; but he was really of\nanother mind himself, till he saw things and till he talked with the\ngunner, and this put new thoughts in his head; so he entertained the\ngunner with a scheme of his own, and told him, if it was so as he\nrelated it, and that he had really a mind to come off from the gang, he\nbelieved that he could put him in a way how to do it to his advantage,\nand to take a set of his people with him, if he could pick out some of\nthem that might be depended upon.\nThe gunner replied, I can pick out a set of very brave fellows, good\nseamen, and most of them such as, having been forced into the pirates'\nships, were dragged into that wicked life they had lived, not only\nagainst their consciences, but by a mere necessity to save their lives,\nand that they would be glad at any price to go off.\nThe mate then asked him, Pray, gunner, how many such men can you answer\nfor?\nWhy, says he, after a short pause, I am sure I can answer for above a\nhundred.\nUpon this my mate told him the circumstances we were in, the voyage we\nwere upon; that we were a letter of mart ship of such a force, but that\nwe were over-manned and double-stored, in hopes of getting a good ship\nupon our cruise to man out of the other; that we had been disappointed,\nand had only got the sloop or brigantine which we bought at the Cape;\nthat, if he could persuade the men to sell us one of their ships, we\nwould pay them for it in ready money, and perhaps entertain a hundred of\ntheir men into the bargain.\nThe gunner told him he would propose it to them; and added, in positive\nterms, that he knew it would be readily accepted, and that he should\ntake which of the three ships I pleased.\nThe mate then desired that he would lend him his shallop to go on board\nour ship, to acquaint me with it, and bring back sufficient orders to\ntreat.\nHe told him, he would not only do that, but, before I could be ready to\ngo, he would propose it to the chief men that he had his eye upon, and\nwould have their consent, and that then he would go along with him on\nboard to make a bargain.\nThis was as well as our mate could expect; and the gunner had either so\nmuch authority among them, or the men were so forward to shift their\nstation in the world, that the gunner came again to our mate in less\nthan two hours, with an order, signed by about sixteen of their\nofficers, empowering him to sell us the ship which the gunner was on\nboard of, and to allot so many guns, and such a proportion of ammunition\nto her, as was sufficient, and to give the work of all their carpenters\nfor so many days as were necessary to repair her, calk, and grave her,\nand put her in condition to go to sea.\nShe was a Spanish-built ship; where they had her the gunner said he did\nnot know; but she was a very strong, tight ship, and a pretty good\nsailer.\nWe made her carry two-and-thirty guns, though she had not been used to\ncarry above twenty-four.\nThe gunner being thus empowered to treat with my mate, came away in\ntheir shallop, and brought the said gunner and two more of their\nofficers with him, and eight seamen. The gunner and I soon made a\nbargain for the ship, which I bought for five thousand pieces of eight,\nmost of it in English goods such as they wanted; for they were many of\nthem almost naked of clothes, and, as for other things, they had scarce\na pair of stockings or shoes among them.\nWhen our bargain was made, and the mate had related all the particulars\nof the conference he had had with the gunner, we came to talk of the\npeople who were to go with us: the gunner told us that we might indeed\nhave good reason to suspect a gang of men who had made themselves\ninfamous all over the world by so many piracies and wicked actions; but,\nif I would put so much confidence in him, he would assure me, that, as\nhe should have the power in his hands to pick and choose his men, so he\nwould answer body for body for the fidelity of all the men he should\nchoose; and that most, if not all of them, would be such as had been\ntaken by force out of other ships, or wheedled away when they were\ndrunk: and he added, there never was a ship load of such penitents went\nto sea together as he would bring us.\nWhen he said this, he began to entreat me that I would please to give\nhim the same post which he held in the ship, viz., of gunner, which I\npromised him; and then he desired I would permit him to speak with me in\nprivate; I was not at first very free to it, but he having consented to\nlet the mate and Captain Merlotte be present, I yielded.\nWhen all the rest were withdrawn, he told me, that having been five\nyears in the pirates' service, as he might call it, and being obliged to\ndo as they did, I might be sure he had some small share in the purchase;\nand however he had come into it against his will, yet, as he had been\nobliged to go with them, he had made some advantage; and that, being\nresolved to leave them, he had a good while ago packed up some of the\nbest of what he had got, to make his escape, and begged I would let him\ndeposit it with me as a security for his fidelity.\nUpon this he ordered a chest to be taken out of the shallop, and brought\ninto my great cabin; and, besides this, gave me out of his pocket, a\nbag, sealed up, the contents of which I shall speak of hereafter.\nThe shallop returned the next day, and I sent back the mate with my\nlong-boat and twenty-four men, to go and take possession of the ship;\nand appointed my carpenter to go and see to the repairs that were\nnecessary to be done to her: and some days after, I sent Captain\nMerlotte with the supercargo, in our sloop, to go and secure the\npossession, and to cover the retreat of any of the men who might have a\nmind to come away, and might be opposed by the rest; and this was done\nat the request of the gunner who foresaw there might be some debate\nabout it.\nThey spent six weeks and some odd days in fitting out this ship,\noccasioned by the want of a convenient place to lay her on shore in,\nwhich they were obliged to make with a great deal of labour; however,\nshe was at last completely fitted up.\nWhen she was equipped, they laid in a good store of provisions, though\nnot so well cured as to last a great while. One of the best things we\ngot a recruit of here was casks, which, as said before, we greatly\nwanted, and which their coopers assisted us to trim, season, and fit up.\nAs to bread, we had no help from them; for they had none but what they\nmade of rice, and they had not sufficient store of that.\nBut we had more to do yet: for, when the ship was fitted up, and our men\nhad the possession of her, they were surprised one morning, on a sudden,\nwith a most horrible tumult among the pirates: and had not our\nbrigantine been at hand to secure the possession, I believe they had\ntaken the ship from our men again, and perhaps have come down with her\nand their two sloops, and have attacked us. The case was this:\nThe gunner, who was a punctual fellow to his word, resolved that none of\nthe men should go in the ship but such as he had singled out; and they\nwere such as were generally taken out of merchant ships by force: but\nwhen he came to talk to the men of who should go, and who should stay,\ntruly they would all go, to a man, there was not a man of them would\nstay behind; and, in a word, they fell out about it to that degree that\nthey came to blows, and the gunner was forced to fly for it, with about\ntwenty-two men that stood to him, and six or seven were wounded in the\nfray, whereof two died.\nThe gunner being thus driven to his shifts, made down to the shore to\nhis boat, but the rogues were too nimble for him, and had got to his\nboat before him, and prepared to man her and two more, to go on board\nand secure the ship.\nIn this distress, the gunner, who had taken sanctuary in the woods at\nabout a mile distance, but unhappily above the camp, so that the\nplatform of guns was between him and the ship, had no remedy but to send\none of his men, who swam very well, to take a compass round behind the\npirates' camp and come to the water-side below the camp and platform, so\nto take the water and swim on board the ship, which lay near a league\nbelow their said camp, and give our men notice of what had happened; to\nwarn them to suffer none of their men to come on board, unless the\ngunner was with them; and if possible, to send a boat on shore to fetch\noff the gunner and his men, who were following by the same way, and\nwould be at the same place, and make a signal to them to come for him.\nOur men had scarce received this notice, when they saw a boat full of\nmen put off from the platform, and row down under shore towards them:\nbut as they resolved not to suffer them to come on board, they called to\nthem by a speaking-trumpet, and told them they might go back again, for\nthey should not come on board, nor any other boat, unless the gunner was\non board.\nThey rowed on for all that, when our men called to them again, and told\nthem, if they offered to put off, in order to come on board, or, in\nshort, to row down shore any farther than a little point which our men\nnamed, and which was just ahead of them, they would fire at them. They\nrowed on for all this, and even till they were past the point; which,\nour men seeing, they immediately let fly a shot, but fired a little\nahead of them, so as not to hit the boat, and this brought them to a\nstop; so they lay upon their oars awhile, as if they were considering\nwhat to do, when our men perceived two boats more come off from the\nplatform, likewise full of men, and rowing after the first.\nUpon this, they called again to the first boat with their\nspeaking-trumpet, and told them, if they did not all go immediately on\nshore, they would sink the boat. They had no remedy, seeing our men\nresolved, and that they lay open to the shot of the ship; so they went\non shore accordingly, and then our men fired at the empty boat, till\nthey split her in pieces, and made her useless to them.\nUpon this firing, our brigantine, which lay about two leagues off in the\nmouth of a little creek, on the south of that river, weighed\nimmediately, and stood away to the opening of the road where the ship\nlay; and the tide of flood being still running in, they drove up towards\nthe ship, for her assistance, and came to an anchor about a cable's\nlength ahead of her, but within pistol-shot of the shore; at the same\ntime sending two-and-thirty of her men on board the great ship, to\nreinforce the men on board, who were but sixteen in number.\nJust at this time, the gunner and his twenty-one men, who heard the\nfiring, and had quickened their pace, though they had a great compass to\nfetch through woods and untrod paths, and some luggage to carry too,\nwere come to the shore, and made the signal, which our men in the ship\nobserving, gave notice to the officer of the brigantine to fetch them on\nboard, which he did very safely. By the way, as the officer afterwards\ntold us, most of their luggage consisted in money, with which, it seems,\nevery man of them was very well furnished, having shared their wealth at\ntheir first coming on shore: as for clothes, they had very few, and\nthose all in rags; and as for linen, they had scarce a shirt among them\nall, or linen enough to have made a white flag for a truce, if they had\noccasion for it: in short, a crew so rich and so ragged, were hardly\never seen before.\nThe ship was now pretty well manned: for the brigantine carried the\ngunner and his twenty-one men on board her; and the tide by this time\nbeing spent, she immediately unmoored, and loosed her topsails, which,\nas it happened, had been bent to the yards two days before; so with the\nfirst of the ebb she weighed, and fell down about a league farther, by\nwhich she was quite out of reach of the platform, and rid in the open\nsea; and the brigantine did the same.\nBut by this means, they missed the occasion of the rest of the gunner's\nmen, who, having got together to the number of between seventy and\neighty, had followed him, and come down to the shore, and made the\nsignals, but were not understood by our ship, which put the poor men to\ngreat difficulties; for they had broken away from the rest by force,\nand had been pursued half a mile by the whole body, particularly at the\nentrance into a very thick woody place, and were so hard put to it, that\nthey were obliged to make a desperate stand, and fire at their old\nfriends, which had exasperated them to the last degree. But, as the case\nof these men was desperate, they took an effectual method for their own\nsecurity, of which I shall give a farther account presently.\nThe general body of the pirates were now up in arms, and the new ship\nwas, as it were, in open war with them, or at least they had declared\nwar against her: but as they had been disappointed in their attempt to\nforce her, and found they were not strong enough at sea to attack her,\nthey sent a flag of truce on board. Our men admitted them to come to the\nship's side; but as my mate, who now had the command, knew them to be a\ngang of desperate rogues, that would attempt anything, though ever so\nrash, he ordered that none of them should come on board the ship, except\nthe officer and two more, who gave an account that they were sent to\ntreat with us; so we called them the ambassadors.\nWhen they came on board, they expostulated very warmly with my new\nagent, the second mate, that our men came in the posture of friends, and\nof friends too in distress, and had received favours from them, but had\nabused the kindness which had been shown them; that they had bought a\nship of them, and had had leave and assistance to fit her up and furnish\nher; but had not paid for her, or paid for what assistance and what\nprovisions had been given to them: and that now, to complete all, their\nmen had been partially and unfairly treated; and when a certain number\nof men had been granted us, an inferior fellow, a gunner, was set to\ncall such and such men out, just whom he pleased, to go with us; whereas\nthe whole body ought to have had the appointing whom they would or would\nnot give leave to, to go in the ship: that, when they came in a\npeaceable manner to have demanded justice, and to have treated amicably\nof these things, our men had denied them admittance, had committed\nhostilities against them, had fired at their men, and staved their boat,\nand had afterward received their deserters on board, all contrary to the\nrules of friendship. And in all these cases they demanded satisfaction.\nOur new commander was a ready man enough, and he answered all their\ncomplaints with a great deal of gravity and calmness. He told them, that\nit was true we came to them as friends, and had received friendly usage\nfrom them, which we had not in the least dishonoured; but that as\nfriends in distress, we had never pretended to be, and really were not;\nfor that we were neither in danger of anything, or in want of anything;\nthat as to provisions, we were strong enough if need were, to procure\nourselves provisions in any part of the island, and had been several\ntimes supplied from the shore by the natives, for which we had always\nfully satisfied the people who furnished us; and that we scorned to be\nungrateful for any favour we should have received, much less to abuse\nit, or them for it.\nThat we had paid the full price of all the provisions we had received,\nand for the work that had been done to the ship; that what we had\nbargained for, as the price of the ship, had been paid, as far as the\nagreement made it due, and that what remained, was ready to be paid as\nsoon as the ship was finished, which was our contract.\nThat as to the people who were willing to take service with us, and\nenter themselves on board, it is true that the gunner and some other men\noffered themselves to us, and we had accepted of them, and we thought it\nwas our part to accept or not to accept of such men as we thought fit.\nAs for what was among themselves, that we had nothing to do with: that,\nif we had been publicly warned by them not to have entertained any of\ntheir men, but with consent of the whole body, then indeed we should\nhave had reason to be cautious; otherwise, we were not in the least\nconcerned about it. That it is true, we refused to let their boats come\non board us, being assured that they came in a hostile manner, either to\ntake away the men by force, which had been entered in our service, or\nperhaps even to seize the ship itself; and why else was the first boat\nfollowed by two more, full of men, armed and prepared to attack us? That\nwe not only came in a friendly manner to them, but resolved to continue\nin friendship with them, if they thought fit to use us as friends; but\nthat, considering what part of the world we were in, and what their\ncircumstances were, they must allow us to be upon our guard, and not put\nourselves in a condition to be used ill.\nWhile he was talking thus with them in the cabin, he had ordered a can\nof flip to be made, and given their men in the boat, and every one a\ndram, but would not suffer them to come on board; however, one or two of\nthem got leave to get in at one of the ports, and got between decks\namong our men; here they made terrible complaints of their condition,\nand begged hard to be entertained in our service; they were full of\nmoney, and gave twenty or thirty pieces of eight among our men, and by\nthis present prevailed on two men to speak to my mate, who appeared as\ncaptain, to take the boat's crew on board.\nThe mate very gravely told the two ambassadors of it, and added, that,\nseeing they were come with a flag of truce, he would not stop their men\nwithout their consent, but the men being so earnest, he thought they\nwould do better not to oppose them. The ambassadors, as I call them,\nopposed it, however, vehemently, and at last desired to go and talk with\nthe men, which was granted them readily.\nWhen they came into their boat, their men told them plainly, that, one\nand all, they would enter themselves with their countrymen; that they\nhad been forced already to turn pirates, and they thought they might\nvery justly turn honest men again by force, if they could not get leave\nto do it peaceably; and that, in short, they would go on shore no more;\nthat, if the ambassadors desired it, they would set them on shore with\nthe boat, but as for themselves, they would go along with the new\ncaptain.\nWhen the ambassadors saw this, they had no more to do but to be\nsatisfied, and so were set on shore where they desired, and their men\nstayed on board.\nDuring this transaction, my mate had sent a full account to me of all\nthat had passed, and had desired me to come on board and give farther\ndirections in all that was to follow; so I took our supercargo and\nCaptain Merlotte along with me, and some more of our officers, and went\nto them. It was my lot to come on board just when the aforesaid\nambassadors were talking with my mate, so I heard most of what they had\nto say, and heard the answer my mate gave them, as above, which was\nextremely to my satisfaction; nor did I interrupt him, or take upon me\nany authority, though he would very submissively have had me shown\nmyself as captain, but I bade him go on, and sat down, as not concerned\nin the affair at all.\nAfter the ambassadors were gone, the first thing I did, was, in the\npresence of all the company, and, having before had the opinion of those\nI brought with me, to tell my second mate how well we were all satisfied\nwith his conduct, and to declare him captain of the ship that he was in;\nonly demanding his solemn oath, to be under orders of the great ship, as\nadmiral, and to carry on no separate interests from us; which he\nthankfully accepted, and, to give him his due, as faithfully performed,\nall the rest of our very long voyage, and through all our adventures.\nIt was upon my seeming intercession, that he gave consent to the boat's\ncrew, who brought the ambassadors, to remain in our service, and set\ntheir statesmen on shore; and in the end, I told him that as far as\nabout one hundred and fifty, or two hundred men, he should entertain\nwhom he thought fit. Thus having settled all things in the ship to our\nsatisfaction, we went back to our great ship the next day.\nI had not been many hours on board, till I was surprised with the firing\nof three muskets from the shore; we wondered what could be the meaning\nof it, knowing that it was an unusual thing in that place, where we knew\nthe natives of the country had no fire-arms; so we could not tell what\nto make of it, and therefore took no notice, other than, as I say, to\nwonder at it. About half-an-hour after, we heard three muskets more, and\nstill, not knowing anything of the matter, we made them no return to the\nsignal. Some time after three muskets were fired again, but still we\ntook no notice, for we knew nothing of what return was to be made to it.\nWhen night come on, we observed two great fires upon two several hills,\non that part of the shore opposite to us, and after that, three rockets\nwere fired, such as they were, for they were badly constructed; I\nsuppose their gunner was ill provided for such things: but all signified\nnothing; we would have made any return to them that had been to be\nunderstood, but we knew nothing of any agreed signal; however, I\nresolved that I would send a boat on shore, well manned, to learn, if\npossible, what the meaning of all this was; and, accordingly, in the\nmorning, I sent our long-boat and shallop on shore, with two-and-thirty\nmen in them both, to get intelligence; ordering them, if possible, to\nspeak with somebody, before they went on shore, and know how things\nstood; that then, if it was a party of the pirates, they should by no\nmeans come near them, but parley at a distance, till they knew the\nmeaning of their behaviour.\nAs soon as my men came near the shore, they saw plainly that it was a\nbody of above a hundred of the pirates; but seeing them so strong, they\nstood off, and would not come nearer, nor near enough to parley with\nthem; upon this, the men on shore got one of the islanders' canvass\nboats, or rather boats made of skins, which are but sorry ones at best,\nand put off, with two men to manage the sail, and one sitter, and two\npaddles for oars and away they came towards us, carrying a flag of\ntruce, that is to say, an old white rag; how they came to save so much\nlinen among them all, was very hard to guess.\nOur men could do no less than receive their ambassador, and a flag of\ntruce gave no shadow of apprehension, especially considering the figure\nthey made, and that the men on shore had no other boats to surprise or\nattack us with; so they lay by upon their oars till they came up, when\nthey soon understood who they were, viz.--that they were the gunner's\nselected men; that they came too late to have their signal perceived\nfrom the other ship, which was gone out of sight of the place they were\ndirected to; that they had with great difficulty, and five days and\nnights' marching, got through a woody and almost impassable country to\ncome at us; that they had fetched a circuit of near a hundred miles to\navoid being attacked by their comrades, and that they were pursued by\nthem with their whole body, and therefore they begged to be taken on\nboard; they added, if they should be overtaken by their comrades, they\nshould be all cut in pieces, for that they had broke away from them by\nforce, and moreover had been obliged, at the first of their pursuit, to\nface about and fire among them, by which they had killed six or seven of\nthem, and wounded others, and that they had sworn they would give them\nno quarter, if they could come fairly up with them.\nOur men told them they must be contented to remain on shore, where they\nwere, for some time, for that they could do nothing till they had been\non board, and acquainted their captain with all the particulars; so they\ncame back immediately to me for orders.\nAs to me, I was a little uneasy at the thoughts of taking them on board;\nI knew they were a gang of pirates at best, and what they might do I\nknew not, but I sent them this message, that though all their tale might\nbe very good for aught I knew, yet that I must take so much time as to\nsend an express to the captain of the other ship, to be informed of the\ntruth of it; and that if he brought a satisfactory answer, I would send\nfor them all on board.\nThis was very uncomfortable news to them, for they expected to be\nsurrounded every hour by their comrades, from whom they were to look for\nno mercy; however, seeing no remedy, they resolved to march about twenty\nmiles farther south, and lie by in a place near the sea, where we agreed\nto send to them; concluding that their comrades not finding them near\nthe place where we lay, would not imagine they could be gone farther\nthat way. As they guessed, so it proved, for the pirates came to the\nshore, where they saw tokens enough of their having been there, but\nseeing they could not be found, concluded they were all gone on board\nour ship.\nThe wind proving contrary, it was no less than four days before our boat\ncame back, so that the poor men were held in great suspense: but when\nthey returned, they brought the gunner with them who had selected those\nmen from all the rest for our new ship; and who, when he came, gave me a\nlong account of them, and what care he had taken to pick them out for\nour service, delivering me also a letter from my new captain to the same\npurpose: upon all which concurring circumstances, we concluded to take\nthem on board; so we sent our boats for them, which, at twice, brought\nthem all on board, and very stout young fellows they were.\nWhen they had been on board some days and refreshed themselves, I\nconcluded to send all on board the new ship; but, upon advice, I\nresolved to send sixty of my own men joined to forty of these, and keep\nthirty-four of them on board my ship; for their number was just\nseventy-four, which with the gunner and his twenty-one men, and the\nsixteen men who came with the worthy ambassadors, and would not go on\nshore again, made one hundred and twelve men; and, as we all thought,\nwere enough for us, though we took in between forty and fifty more\nafterwards.\nWe were now ready to go to sea, and I caused the new ship and the\nbrigantine to come away from the place where they lay, and join us;\nwhich they did, and then we unloaded part of our provisions and\nammunition; of which, as I observed at first, we had taken in double\nquantity; and, having furnished the new ship with a proportion of all\nthings necessary, we prepared for our voyage.\nI should here give a long account of a second infernal conspiracy, which\nmy two remaining prisoners had formed among the men, which was to betray\nthe new ship to the pirates; but it is too long a story to relate here;\nnor did I make it public among the ship's company: but as it was only,\nas it were, laid down in a scheme, and that they had no opportunity to\nput it in practice, I thought it was better to make as little noise\nabout it as I could. So I ordered my new captain, for it was he who\ndiscovered it to me, to punish them in their own way, and, without\ntaking notice of their new villanies, to set them on shore, and leave\nthem to take their fate with a set of rogues whom they had intended to\njoin with, and whose profession was likely, some time or other, to bring\nthem to the gallows. And thus I was rid of two incorrigible mutineers;\nwhat became of them afterwards I never heard.\nWe were now a little fleet, viz., two large ships and a brigantine, well\nmanned, and furnished with all sorts of necessaries for any voyage or\nany enterprise that was fit for men in our situation to undertake; and,\nparticularly, here I made a full design of the whole voyage, to be again\nopenly declared to the men, and had them asked, one by one, if they were\nwilling and resolved to undertake it, which they all very cheerfully\nanswered in the affirmative.\nHere we had an opportunity to furnish ourselves with a plentiful stock\nof excellent beef, which, as I said before, we cured with little or no\nsalt, by drying it in the sun; and, I believe, we laid in such a store,\nthat, in all our three vessels, we had near a hundred and fifty tons of\nit; and it was of excellent use to us, and served us through the whole\nvoyage. There was little else to be had in this place that was fit to be\ncarried to sea; except that, as there was plenty of milk, some of our\nmen, who were more dexterous than others, made several large cheeses;\nnor were they very far short of English cheese, only that we were but\nindifferent dairy folks. Our men made some butter also, and salted it to\nkeep, but it grew rank and oily, and was of little use to us.\nIt was on the 15th of December that we left this place, a country\nfruitful, populous, full of cattle, large and excellent good beef, and\nvery fat; and the land able to produce all manner of good things; but\nthe people wild, naked, black, barbarous, perfectly untractable, and\ninsensible of any state of life being better than their own.\nWe stood away towards the shore of Arabia, till we passed the line, and\ncame into the latitude of 18\u00b0 north, and then stood away east, and\neast-by-north, for the English factories of Surat, and the coast of\nMalabar; not that we had any business there, or designed any, only that\nwe had a mind to take on board a quantity of rice, if we could come at\nit; which at last, we effected by a Portuguese vessel, which we met with\nat sea, bound to Goa, from the Gulf of Persia. We chased her, and\nbrought her too, indeed, as if we resolved to attack and take the ship;\nbut, finding a quantity of rice on board, which was what we wanted, with\na parcel of coffee, we took all the rice, but paid the supercargo, who\nwas a Persian or Armenian merchant, very honestly for the whole parcel,\nhis full price, and to his satisfaction; as for the coffee, we had no\noccasion for it. We put in at several ports on the Indian coast for\nfresh water and fresh provisions, but came near none of the factories,\nbecause we had no mind to discover ourselves; for though we were to sail\nthrough the very centre of the India trade, yet it was perfectly without\nany business among them. We met indeed on this coast with some pearl\nfishers, who had been in the mouth of the Arabian Gulf, and had a large\nquantity of pearl on board. I would have traded with them for goods, but\nthey understood nothing but money, and I refused to part with it; upon\nwhich the fellows gave our supercargo some scornful language, which\nthough he did not well understand what they said, yet he pretended to\ntake it as a great affront, and threatened to make prize of their barks,\nand slaves of the men; upon which they grew very humble; and one of\nthem, a Malabar Indian, who spoke a little English, spoke for them, that\nthey would willingly trade with us for such goods as we had; whereupon I\nproduced three bales of English cloth, which I showed them, and said\nthey would be of good merchandise at Gombaroon in the Gulf, for that the\nPersians made their long vests of such cloths.\nIn short, for this cloth, and some money, we bought a box of choice\npearls, which the chief of them had picked out from the rest for the\nPortuguese merchants at Goa; and which, when I came to London, was\nvalued at two thousand two hundred pounds sterling.\nWe were near two months on our voyage from Madagascar to the coast of\nIndia, and from thence to Ceylon, where we put in on the south-west part\nof the island, to see what provisions we could get, and to take in a\nlarge supply of water.\nThe people here we found willing to supply us with provisions; but\nwithal so sharp, imposing upon us their own rates for everything, and\nwithal, so false, that we were often provoked to treat them very rudely.\nHowever, I gave strict orders that they should not be hurt upon any\noccasion, at least till we had filled all our water-casks and taken in\nwhat fresh provisions we could get, and especially rice, which we valued\nvery much. But they provoked us at last beyond all patience; for they\nwere such thieves when they were on board, and such treacherous rogues\nwhen we were on shore, that there was no bearing with them; and two\naccidents fell out upon this occasion which fully broke the peace\nbetween us; one was on board, and the other on shore, and both happened\nthe same day.\nThe case on board was this. There came on board us a small boat, in\nwhich were eleven men and three boys, to sell us roots, yams, mangoes,\nand such other articles as was frequent for them to do every day; but\nthis boat having more goods of that kind than usual, they were longer\nthan ordinary in making their market. While they were thus chaffering on\nboard, one of them having wandered about the ship, and pretending to\nadmire everything he saw, and being gotten between decks, was taken\nstealing a pair of shoes which belonged to one of the seamen. The fellow\nbeing stopped for his theft, appeared angry, raised a hideous screaming\nnoise to alarm his fellows; and, at the same time, having stolen a long\npair of scissors, pulled them out, and stabbed the man who had laid hold\nof him into the shoulder, and was going to repeat his blow, when the\npoor fellow who had been wounded, having struck up his heels and fallen\nupon him, had killed him if I had not called to take him off, and bring\nthe thief up to me.\nUpon this order, they laid hold of the barbarian, and brought him up\nwith the shoes and the scissors that he had stolen, and as the fact was\nplain, and needed no witnesses, I caused all the rest of them to be\nbrought up also; and, as well as we could, made them understand what he\nhad done.\nThey made pitiful signs of fear, lest they should all be punished for\nhis crime, and particularly when they saw the man whom he had wounded\nbrought in; then they expected nothing but death, and they made a sad\nlamentation and howling, as if they were all to die immediately.\nIt was not without a great deal of difficulty that I found ways to\nsatisfy them, that nobody was to be punished but the man that had\ncommitted the fact; and then I caused him to be brought to the gears,\nwith a halter about his neck, and be soundly whipped; and indeed, our\npeople did scourge him severely from head to foot; and, I believe, if I\nhad not run myself to put an end to it, they would have whipped him to\ndeath.\nWhen this punishment was over, they put him into their boat, and let\nthem all go on shore. But no sooner were they on shore, but they raised\na terrible outcry in all the villages and towns near them, and they were\nnot a few, the country being very populous; and great numbers came down\nto the shore, staring at us, and making confused ugly noises, and\nabundance of arrows they shot at the ship, but we rode too far from the\nshore for them to do us any hurt.\nWhile this was doing, another fray happened on shore, where two of our\nmen, bargaining with an islander and his wife for some fowls, they took\ntheir money and gave them part of the fowls, and pretended the woman\nshould go and fetch the rest. While the woman was gone, three or four\nfellows came to the man who was left; when talking a while together, and\nseeing our men were but two, they began to take hold of the fowls which\nhad been sold, and would take them away again; when one of our men\nstepped up to the fellow who had taken them, and went to lay hold of\nhim, but he was too nimble for him, and ran away, and carried off the\nfowls and the money too. The seamen were so enraged to be so served,\nthat they took up their pieces, for they had both fire-arms with them,\nand fired immediately after him, and aimed their shot so well, that\nthough the fellow flew like the wind, he shot him through the head, and\nhe dropped down dead upon the spot.\nThe rest of them, though terribly frightened, yet, seeing our men were\nbut two, and the noise bringing twenty or thirty more immediately to\nthem, attacked our men with their lances, and bows and arrows; and in a\nmoment there was a pitched battle of two men only against twenty or\nthirty, and their number increasing too.\nIn short, our men spent their shot freely among them as long as it\nlasted, and killed six or seven, besides wounding ten or eleven more,\nand this cooled their courage, and they seemed to give over the battle;\nand our men, whose ammunition was almost spent, began to think of\nretreating to their boat, which was near a mile off, for they were very\nunhappily gotten from their boat so far up the country.\nThey made their retreat pretty well for about half the way, when, on a\nsudden, they saw they were not pursued only, but surrounded, and that\nsome of their enemies were before them. This made them double their\npace, and, seeing no remedy, they resolved to break through those that\nwere before them, who were about eleven or twelve. Accordingly, as soon\nas they came within pistol shot of them, one of our men having, for want\nof shot, put almost a handful of gravel and small stones into his piece,\nfired among them, and the gravel and stones scattering, wounded almost\nall of them; for they being naked from the waist upwards, the least\ngrain of sand scratched and hurt them, and made them bleed if it only\nentered the skin.\nBeing thus completely scared, and indeed more afraid than hurt, they all\nran away, except two, who were really wounded with the shot or stones,\nand lay upon the ground. Our men let them lie, and made the best of\ntheir way to their boat; where, at last, they got safe, but with a great\nnumber of the people at their heels. Our men did not stay to fire from\nthe boat, but put off with all the speed they could, for fear of\npoisoned arrows, and the country people poured so many of their arrows\ninto the boat after them, and aimed them also so truly, that two of our\nmen were hurt with them; but, whether they were poisoned or not, our\nsurgeons cured them both.\nWe had enough of Ceylon; and having no business to make such a kind of\nwar as this must have been, in which we might have lost but could get\nnothing, we weighed, and stood away to the East. What became of the\nfellow that was lashed we knew not; but, as he had but little flesh\nleft on his back, which was not mangled and torn with our whipping him,\nand we supposed they were but indifferent surgeons, our people said the\nfellow could not live; and the reason they gave for it was, because they\ndid not pickle him after it. Truly, they said, that they would not be so\nkind to him as to pickle him: for though pickling, that is to say,\nthrowing salt and vinegar on the back after the whipping, is cruel\nenough as to the pain it is to the patient, yet it is certainly the way\nto prevent mortification, and causes it to heal again with more ease.\nWe stood over from Ceylon east-south-east cross the great Bay of Bengal,\nleaving all the coast of Coromandel, and standing directly for Achen, on\nthe north point of the great island of Sumatra, and in the latitude of\nHere we spread our French colours, and, coming to an anchor, suffered\nnone of our men to go on shore but Captain Merlotte and his Frenchmen;\nand, having nothing to do there, or anywhere else in the Indian seas,\nbut to take in provisions and fresh water, we stayed but five days; in\nwhich time we supplied ourselves with what the place would afford; and,\npretending to be bound for China, we went on to the south through the\nstraits of Malacca, between the island of Sumatra and the main or\nisthmus of Malacca.\nWe had here a very difficult passage, though we took two pilots on board\nat Achen, who pretended to know the straits perfectly well; twice we\nwere in very great danger of being lost, and once our Madagascar ship\nwas so entangled among rocks and currents, that we gave her up for lost,\nand twice she struck upon the rocks, but she did but touch, and went\nclear.\nWe went several times on shore among the Malayans, as well on the shore\nof Malacca itself, as on the side of Sumatra. They are as fierce, cruel,\ntreacherous, and merciless a crew of human devils as any I have met with\non the face of the whole earth; and we had some skirmishes with them,\nbut not of any consequence. We made no stay anywhere in this strait but\njust for fresh water, and what other fresh provisions we could get, such\nas roots, greens, hogs, and fowls, of which they have plenty and a great\nvariety: but nothing to be had but for ready money; which our men took\nso unkindly, and especially their offering two or three times to cheat\nthem, and once to murder them, that afterwards they made no scruple to\ngo on shore a hundred or more at a time, and plunder and burn what they\ncould not carry off; till at last we began to be such a terror to them,\nthat they fled from us wherever we came.\nOn the 5th of March we made the southernmost part of the Isthmus of\nMalacca, and the island and straits of Sincapora, famous for its being\nthe great outlet into the Chinese sea, and lying in the latitude of 1\u00b0\n15' north latitude.\nWe had good weather through these straits, which was very much to our\ncomfort; the different currents and number of little islands making it\notherwise very dangerous, especially to strangers. We got, by very good\nluck, a Dutch pilot to carry us through this strait, who was a very\nuseful, skilful fellow, but withal so impertinent and inquisitive, that\nwe knew not what to say to him nor what to do with him; at last he grew\nsaucy and insolent, and told our chief mate that he did not know but we\nmight be pirates, or at least enemies to his countrymen the Dutch; and\nif we would not tell him who we were and whither we were bound, he would\nnot pilot us any farther.\nThis I thought very insolent, to a degree beyond what was sufferable;\nand bade the boatswain put a halter about the fellow's neck, and tell\nhim that, the moment he omitted to direct the steerage as a pilot, or\nthe moment the ship come to any misfortune, or struck upon any rock, he\nshould be hung up.\nThe boatswain, a rugged fellow, provided himself with a halter, and\ncoming up to the pilot, asked him what it was he wanted to be satisfied\nin?\nThe pilot said he desired to have a true account whither we were going.\nWhy, says the boatswain, we are agoing to the devil, and I shall send\nyou before to tell him we are coming; and with that he pulled the halter\nout of his pocket and put it over his head, and taking the other end in\nhis hand, Come, says the boatswain, come along with me; do you think we\ncan't go through the strait of Sincapora without your help? I warrant\nyou, says he, we will do without you.\nBy this time it may be supposed the Dutchman was in a mortal fright, and\nhalf choked too with being dragged by the throat with the halter, and,\nfull heartily he begged for his life: at length the boatswain, who had\npulled him along a good way, stopped and the Dutchman fell down on his\nknees; but the boatswain said, he had the captain's orders to hang him,\nand hang him he would, unless the captain recalled his orders; but that\nhe would stay so long, if anybody would go up to the captain and tell\nhim what the Dutchman said, and bring back an answer.\nI had no design to hang the poor fellow, it is true, and the boatswain\nknew that well enough. However, I was resolved to humble him\neffectually, so I sent back two men to the boatswain, the first was to\ntell the boatswain aloud that the captain was resolved to have the\nfellow hanged, for having been so impudent to threaten to run the ship\naground; but then the second, who was to stay a little behind, was to\ncall out, as if he came since the first from me, and that I had been\nprevailed with to pardon him, on his promises of better behaviour. This\nwas all acted to admiration; for the first messenger called aloud to the\nboatswain, that the captain said he would have the Dutchman hanged for a\nwarning to all pilots, and to teach them not to insult men when they are\nin difficulties, as the midwives do whores in labour, and will not\ndeliver them till they confess who is the father.\nThe boatswain had the end of the halter in his hand all the while; I\ntold you so, says he, before. Come, come along Mynheer, I shall quickly\ndo your work, and put you out of your pain; and then he dragged the poor\nfellow along to the main-mast. By this time the second messenger came\nin, and delivered his part of the errand, and so the poor Dutchman was\nput out of his fright, and they gave him a dram to restore him a little,\nand he did his business very honestly afterwards.\nAnd now we were at liberty again, being in the open sea, which was what\nwe were very impatient for before. We made a long run over that part\nwhich we call the sea of Borneo, and the upper part of the Indian\nArches, called so from its being full of islands, like the Archipelago\nof the Levant. It was a long run, but, as we were to the north of the\nislands, we had the more sea-room; so we steered east half a point, one\nway or other, for the Manillas, or Philippine Islands, which was the\ntrue design of our voyage; and, perhaps, we were the first ship that\never came to those islands, freighted from Europe, since the Portuguese\nlost their footing there.\nWe put in on the north coast of Borneo for fresh water, and were\ncivilly used by the inhabitants of the place, who brought us roots and\nfruits of several kinds, and some goats, which we were glad of: we paid\nthem in trifles, such as knives, scissors, toys, and several sorts of\nwrought iron, hatchets, hammers, glass-work, looking-glasses, and\ndrinking-glasses; and from hence we went away, as I said, for the\nPhilippine Islands.\nWe saw several islands in our way, but made no stop, except once for\nwater, and arrived at Manilla the 22nd of May, all our vessels in very\ngood condition, our men healthy, and our ships sound; having met with\nvery few contrary winds, and not one storm in the whole voyage from\nMadagascar. We had now been seventeen months and two days on our voyage\nfrom England.\nWhen we arrived, we saluted the Spanish flag, and came to an anchor,\ncarrying French colours. Captain Merlotte, who now acted as commander,\nsent his boat on shore the next day to the governor, with a respectful\nletter in French; telling him that, having the King of France's\ncommission, and being come into those seas, he hoped that, for the\nfriendship which was between their most Christian and catholic\nmajesties, he should be allowed the freedom of commerce and the use of\nthe port; the like having been granted to his most Christian majesty's\nsubjects in all the ports of new Spain, as well in the southern as in\nthe northern seas.\nThe Spanish governor returned a very civil and obliging answer, and\nimmediately permitted us to buy what provisions we pleased for our\nsupply, or anything else for our use; but added, that, as for allowing\nany exchange of merchandises, or giving leave for European goods to be\nbrought on shore there, he was not empowered to grant.\nWe made it appear as if this answer was satisfactory; and the next\nmorning Captain Merlotte sent his boat on shore with all French sailors\nand a French midshipman, with a handsome present to the governor,\nconsisting of some bottles of French wines, some brandy, two pieces of\nfine Holland, two pieces of English black baize, one piece of fine\nFrench drugget, and five yards of scarlet woollen-cloth.\nThis was too considerable a present for a Spaniard to refuse; and yet\nthese were all European goods, which he seemed not to allow to come on\nshore. The governor let the captain know that he accepted his present;\nand the men who brought it were very handsomely entertained by the\ngovernor's order, and had every one a small piece of gold; and the\nofficer who went at their head had five pieces of gold given him: what\ncoin it was I could not tell, but I think it was a Japan coin, and the\nvalue something less than a pistole.\nThe next day the governor sent a gentleman with a large boat, and in it\na present to our captain, consisting of two cows, ten sheep, or goats,\nfor they were between both; a number of fowls of several sorts, and\ntwelve great boxes of sweetmeats and conserves; all of which were indeed\nvery acceptable; and invited the captain and any of his attendants on\nshore, offering to send hostages on board for our safe return; and\nconcluding with his word of honour for our safety, and free going back\nto our ships.\nThe captain received the present with very great respect, and indeed it\nwas a very noble present; for at the same time a boat was sent to both\nthe other ships with provisions and sweetmeats, in proportion to the\nsize of the vessels. Our captain caused the gentleman who came with this\npresent, to have a fine piece of crimson English cloth given him,\nsufficient to make a waistcoat and breeches of their fashion, with a\nvery good hat, two pair of silk stockings, and two pair of gloves: and\nall his people had a piece of drugget given them sufficient to make the\nlike suit of clothes; the persons who went to the other ship, and to the\nbrigantine, had presents in proportion.\nThis, in short, was neither more nor less than trading and bartering,\nthough, from supercilious punctilio, we had in a manner been denied it.\nThe next day the captain went on shore to visit the governor, and with\nhim several of our officers; and the captain of the Madagascar ship,\nformerly my second mate, and the captain of the brigantine. I did not go\nmyself for that time, nor the supercargo, because, whatever might\nhappen, I would be reserved on board; besides, I did not care to appear\nin this part of the business.\nThe captain went on shore like a captain, attended with his two\ntrumpeters, and the ship firing eleven guns at his going off. The\ngovernor received him like himself, with prodigious state and formality;\nsending five gentlemen and a guard of soldiers to receive him and his\nmen at their landing, and to conduct them to his palace.\nWhen they came there they were entertained with the utmost profusion and\nmagnificence, after the Spanish manner; and they all had the honour to\ndine with his excellence; that is to say, all the officers. At the same\ntime the men were entertained very handsomely in another house, and had\nvery good cheer; but it was observed that they had but very little wine,\nexcept such as we had sent them, which the governor apologised for, by\nsaying his store, which he had yearly from New Spain, was nearly spent.\nThis deficiency we supplied the next day by sending him a quarter cask\nof very good Canary, and half a hogshead of Madeira; which was a present\nso acceptable, that, in short, after this, we might do just as we\npleased with him and all his men.\nWhile they were thus conversing together after dinner, Captain Merlotte\nwas made to understand, that though the governor could not admit an open\navowed trade, yet that the merchants would not be forbid coming on board\nour ship, and trading with us in such manner as we should be very well\nsatisfied with; after which, we should be at no hazard of getting the\ngoods we should sell put on shore; and we had an experiment of this made\nin a few days, as follows:\nWhen Captain Merlotte took his leave of the governor, he invited his\nexcellence to come on board our ship, with such of his attendants as he\npleased to bring with him, and in like manner offered hostages for his\nreturn. The governor accepted the invitation, and with the same\ngenerosity, said he would take his parole of honour given, as he was the\nKing of France's captain, and would come on board.\nThe governor did not come to the shore side with our people; but stood\nin the window of the palace, and gave them the compliment of his hat and\nleg at their going into their boats, and made a signal to the platform,\nto fire eleven guns at their boats putting off.\nThese were unusual and unexpected honours to us, who, but for this\nstratagem of the French commission, had been declared enemies. It was\nsuggested to me here, that I might with great ease surprise the whole\nisland, nay, all the islands, the governor putting such confidence in\nus, that we might go on shore in the very fort unsuspected. But though\nthis was true, and that we did play them a trick at the Rio de la\nPlata, I could not bear the thoughts of it here; besides, I had quite\nanother game to play, which would turn out more advantageous to us and\nto our voyage, than an enterprise of so much treachery could be to\nEngland, which also we might not be able to support from thence, before\nthe Spaniards might beat us out again from Acapulco, and then we might\npass our time ill enough.\nUpon the whole, I resolved to keep every punctilio with the governor\nvery justly, and we found our account in it presently.\nAbout three days afterwards we had notice that the governor would pay us\na visit, and we prepared to entertain his excellence with as much state\nas possible. By the way, we had private notice that the governor would\nbring with him some merchants, who, perhaps, might lay out some money,\nand buy some of our cargo; nor was it without a secret intimation that\neven the governor himself was concerned in the market that should be\nmade.\nUpon this intelligence, our supercargo caused several bales of English\nand French goods to be brought up and opened, and laid so in the\nsteerage and upon the quarter-deck of the ship, that the governor and\nhis attendants should see them of course as they passed by.\nWhen the boats came off from the shore, which we knew by their fort\nfiring eleven guns, our ship appeared as fine as we could make her,\nhaving the French flag at the main-top, as admiral, and streamers and\npendants at the yard-arms, waste cloths out, and a very fine awning over\nthe quarter-deck. When his excellency entered the ship, we fired\none-and-twenty guns, the Madagascar ship fired the like number, and the\nbrigantine fifteen, having loaded her guns nimbly enough to fire twice.\nAs the governor's entertainment to us was more meat than liquor, so we\ngave him more liquor than meat; for, as we had several sorts of very\ngood wines on board, we spared nothing to let him see he was very\nwelcome. After dinner we brought a large bowl of punch upon the table, a\nliquor he was a stranger to: however, to do him justice, he drank very\nmoderately, and so did most of those that were with him. As to the men\nthat belonged to his retinue, I mean servants and attendants, and the\ncrews of the boats, we made some of them drunk enough.\nWhile this was doing, two gentlemen of the governor's company took\noccasion to leave the rest and walk about the ship; and, in so doing,\nthey seemed, as it were by chance, to cast their eyes upon our bales of\ncloth and stuffs, baize, linen, silks, &c, and our supercargo and they\nbegan to make bargains apace, for he found they had not only money\nenough, but had abundance of other things which we were as willing to\ntake as money, and of which they had brought specimens with them; as\nparticularly spices, such as cloves and nutmegs; also China ware, tea,\njapanned ware, wrought silks, raw silk, and the like.\nHowever, our supercargo dealt with them at present for nothing but ready\nmoney, and they paid all in gold: the price he made here, was to us\nindeed extravagant, though to them moderate, seeing they had been used\nto buy these goods from the Acapulco ships, which came in yearly, from\nwhom to be sure they bought them dear enough. They bought as many goods\nat this time as they paid the value of fifteen thousand pieces of eight\nfor, but all in gold by weight.\nAs for carrying our goods on shore, the governor, being present, no\nofficer had anything to say to them; so they were carried on shore as\npresents, made by us to the governor and his retinue.\nThe next day three Spanish merchants came on board us, early in the\nmorning, before it was light, and desired to see the supercargo. They\nbrought with them a box of diamonds and some pearl, and a great quantity\nof gold, and to work they went with our cargo, and I thought once they\nwould have bought the whole ship's loading; but they contented\nthemselves to buy about the value of two-and-twenty thousand pieces of\neight, which did not cost, in England, one-sixth part of the money.\nWe had some difficulty about the diamonds, because we did not understand\nthe worth of them, but our supercargo ventured upon them at ten thousand\npieces of eight, and took the rest in gold. They desired to stay on\nboard till the next night, when, soon after it was dark, a small sloop\ncame on board and took in all their goods, and, as we were told, carried\nthem away to some other island.\nThe same day, and before these merchants were gone, came a large shallop\non board with a square sail, towing after her a great heavy boat, which\nhad a deck, but seemed to have been a large ship's long-boat, built\ninto a kind of yacht, but ill masted, and sailed heavily. In these two\nboats they brought seven tons of cloves in mats, some chests of China\nware, some pieces of China silks, of several sorts, and a great sum of\nmoney also.\nIn short, the merchants sold so cheap and bought so dear, that our\nsupercargo declared he would sell the whole cargo for goods, if they\nwould bring them, for, by his calculation, he had disposed of as many\ngoods as he received the value of one hundred thousand pieces of eight\nfor, all which, by his accounts, did not amount to, first cost, above\nthree thousand pounds sterling in England.\nOur ship was now an open fair; for, two or three days after, came the\nvessel back which went away in the night, and with them a Chinese junk,\nand seven or eight Chinese or Japanners; strange, ugly, ill-looking\nfellows they were, but brought a Spaniard to be their interpreter, and\nthey came to trade also, bringing with them seventy great chests of\nChina ware exceeding fine, twelve chests of China silks of several\nsorts, and some lackered cabinets, very fine. We dealt with them for all\nthose, for our supercargo left nothing, he took everything they brought.\nOur traders were more difficult to please than we: for as for baize and\ndruggets, and such goods, they would not meddle with them; but our fine\ncloths and some bales of linen they bought very freely. So we unloaded\ntheir vessel and put our goods on board. We took a good sum of money of\nthem besides; but whither they went we knew not, for they both came and\nwent in the night too, as the other did.\nThis trade held a good while, and we found that our customers came more\nfrom other islands than from the island where the governor resided; the\nreason of which, as we understood afterwards, was, because, as the\ngovernor had not openly granted a freedom of commerce, but privately\nwinked at it, so they were not willing to carry it on openly before his\nface, or, as we say, under his nose; whereas, in other islands, they\ncould convey their goods on shore with very little hazard, agreeing with\nthe custom-house officer for a small matter.\nThese boats came and went thus several times, till, in short, we had\ndisposed almost of the whole cargo; and now our men began to be\nconvinced that we had laid out our voyage very right, for never was\ncargo better sold; and, as we resolved to pursue our voyage for New\nSpain, we had taken in a cargo very proper to sell there, and so,\nperhaps, to double the advantage we had already made.\nIn the mean time, all our hands were at work to store ourselves anew,\nwith such provisions as could be had here for so long a run as we knew\nwe were to have next; namely, over the vast Pacific Ocean, or South Sea,\na voyage where we might expect to see no land for four months, except we\ntouched at the Ladrones, as it might happen; and our greatest anxiety\nwas for want of water, which our whole ship could scarce be able to stow\nsufficient for our use; and our want of casks was still as bad as the\nwant of water, for we really knew not what to put water in when we had\nit.\nThe Spaniards had helped us to some casks, but not many; those that they\ncould spare were but small, and at last we were obliged to make use of\nabout two hundred large earthen jars, which were of singular use to us.\nWe got a large quantity of good rice here, which we bought of a Chinese\nmerchant, who came in here with a large China vessel to trade, who\nbought of us also several of our European goods.\nJust as we were ready to sail, a boat came from the town of Manilla, and\nbrought a new merchant, who wanted more English goods, but we had but\nfew left; he brought with him thirty chests of calicoes, muslins,\nwrought silks, some of them admirably fine indeed, with fifteen bales of\nromals, and twelve tons of nutmegs. We sold him what goods we had left,\nand gave him money for the rest, but had them at a price so cheap, as\nwas sufficient to let us know that it was always well worth while for\nships to trade from Europe to the East Indies; from whence they are sure\nto make five or six of one. Had more of these merchants come on board,\nwe were resolved to have laid out all the gold and silver we had, which\nwas a very considerable quantity.\nThe last merchant who came on board us was a Spaniard; but I found that\nhe spoke very good French, and some English; that he had been in England\nsome years before, and understood English woollen manufactures very\nwell. He told me he had all his present goods from Acapulco, but that\nthey were then excessively dear. He had considerable dealings with the\nChinese, and some with the coast of Coromandel and Bengal, and kept a\nvessel or two of his own to go to Bengal, which generally went twice in\na year.\nI found be had great business with New Spain, and that he generally had\none of the Acapulco ships chiefly consigned to him; so that he was full\nof all such goods as those ships generally carried away from the\nManillas, and, had we traded with him sooner, we should have had more\ncalicoes and muslins than we now had; however, we were exceedingly well\nstored with goods of all sorts, suitable for a market in Peru, whither I\nresolved to go.\nWe continued chaffering after this manner about nine weeks, during which\ntime we careened our ships, cleaned their bottoms, rummaged our gold,\nand repacked some of our provisions; endeavouring, as much as possible,\nto keep all our men as fully employed as we could, to preserve them in\nhealth, and yet not to overwork them, considering the heat of the\nclimate.\nSome time before we were ready to sail, I called all the warrant\nofficers together, and told them, that as we were come to a country\nwhere abundance of small things were to be bought, and going to a\ncountry where we might possibly have an opportunity to sell them again\nto advantage, I would advance to every officer a hundred dollars, upon\naccount of their pay, that they might lay it out here, and dispose of it\nagain on the coast of New Spain to advantage. This was very acceptable\nto them, and they acknowledged it; and here, besides this, by the\nconsent of all our superior officers, I gave a largess or bounty of five\ndollars a man, to all our foremast men; most of which I believe they\nlaid out in arrack and sugar, to cheer them up in the rest of the\nvoyage, which they all knew would be long enough.\nWe went away from Manilla, in the island of Luconia, the 15th of August,\n1714; and, sailing awhile to the southward, passed the Straits between\nthat island and Mindora, another of the Philippines, where we met with\nlittle extraordinary, except extraordinary lightning and thunders, such\nas we never heard or saw before, though, it seems, it is very familiar\nin that climate; till, after sixteen days' sailing, we saw the isle of\nGuam, one of the Ladrones, or Islands of Thieves, for so much the word\nimports; here we came to an anchor, Sept. 3, under the lee of a steep\nshore, on the north side of the isle of Guam; but, as we wanted no trade\nhere, we did not at first inquire after the chief port, or Spanish\ngovernor, or anything of that kind; but we changed our situation the\nnext day, and went through the passage to the east side of the island,\nand came to an anchor near the town.\nThe people came off, and brought us hogs and fowls, and several sorts of\nroots and greens, articles which we were very glad of, and which we\nbought the more of because we always found that such things were good to\nkeep the men from the scurvy, and even to cure them of it if they had\nit. We took in fresh water here also, though it was with some\ndifficulty, the water lying half a mile from the shore.\nWhen I parted from Manilla, and was getting through the Strait between\nthe island of Luconia and that of Mindora, I had some thoughts of\nsteering away north, to try what land we might meet with to the\nnorth-east of the Philippines; and with intent to have endeavoured to\nmake up into the latitude of 50 or 60\u00b0, and have come about again to the\nsouth, between the island of California and the mainland of America; in\nwhich course, I did not question meeting with extraordinary new\ndiscoveries, and, perhaps, such as the age might not expect to hear of,\nrelating to the northern world, and the possibility of a passage out of\nthose seas, either east or west, both which, I doubt not, would be\nfound, if they were searched after this way; and which, for aught I\nknow, remain undiscovered for want only of an attempt being made by\nthose seas, where it would be easy to find whether the Tartarian seas\nare navigable or not; and whether Nova Zembla be an island or joined to\nthe main; whether the inlets of Hudson's Bay have any opening into the\nWest Sea; and whether the vast lakes, from whence the great river of\nCanada is said to flow, have any communication this way or not.\nBut though these were valuable discoveries, yet, when I began to cast up\nthe account in a more serious manner, they appeared to have no relation\nto, or coherence with, our intended voyage, or with the design of our\nemployers, which we were to consider in the first place, for though it\nis true that we were encouraged to make all such kinds of useful\ndiscoveries as might tend to the advantage of trade, and the improvement\nof geographical knowledge and experience, yet it was all to be so\ndirected as to be subservient to the profits and advantages of a trading\nand cruising voyage.\nIt is true that these northern discoveries might be infinitely great,\nand most glorious to the British nation, by opening new sources of\nwealth and commerce in general: yet, as I have said, it was evident that\nthey tended directly to destroy the voyage, either as to trading or to\ncruising, and might perhaps end in our own destruction also. For\nexample, first of all, if adventuring into those northern seas, we\nshould, by our industry, make out the discovery, and find a passage,\neither east or west, we must follow the discovery so as to venture quite\nthrough, or else we could not be sure that it was really a discovery;\nfor these passages would not be like doubling Cape de Bon Esperance, on\nthe point of Africa, or going round Cape Horn, the southernmost point of\nAmerica, either of which were compassed in a few days, and then\nimmediately gave an opening into the Indian or Southern Oceans, where\ngood weather and certain refreshment were to be had.\nWhereas, for the discovery in the north, after having passed the\nnorthernmost land of Grand Tartary, in the latitude of 74 even to 80\u00b0,\nand perhaps to the very north pole, there must be a run west, beyond the\nmost northerly point of Nova Zembla, and on again west-south-west, about\nthe North Kyn and North Cape, about six hundred leagues, before we could\ncome to have any relief of the climate; after that, one hundred and\nsixty leagues more, and even to Shetland and the north of Scotland,\nbefore we could meet with any relief of provisions, which, after the\nlength we must have run, from the latitude of 3\u00bd\u00b0, where we now were at\nthe Philippine Islands, to 74\u00b0 north, being near five thousand miles,\nwould be impossible to be done, unless we were sure to victual, and\nfurnish ourselves again with provisions and water by the way, and that\nin several places.\nAs to the other passage east, towards the continent of America, we had\nthis uncertainty also; namely, that it was not yet discovered whether\nthe land of California was an island or a continent, and if it should\nprove the latter, so as that we should be obliged to come back to the\nwest, and not be able to find an opening between California and the land\nof north America, so as to come away to the coast of Mexico, to\nAcapulco, and so into the South Sea, and at the same time should not\nfind a passage through Hudson's Bay, &c., into the North Sea, and so to\nEurope, we should not only spoil the voyage that way also, but should\ninfallibly perish by the severity of the season and want of provisions.\nAll these things argued against any attempt that way; whereas, on the\nother hand, for southern discoveries, we had this particular\nencouragement; that whatever disappointment we might meet with, in the\nsearch after unknown countries, yet we were sure of an open sea behind\nus; and that whenever we thought fit to run south beyond the tropic, we\nshould find innumerable islands where we might get water, and some sort\nof provisions, or come back into a favourable climate, and have the\nbenefit of the trade winds, to carry us either backward or forward, as\nthe season should happen to guide us.\nLast of all, we had this assurance, that, the dangers of the seas\nexcepted, we were sure of an outlet before us, if we went forward, or\nbehind us, if we were forced back; and, having a rich cargo, if we were\nto do nothing but go home, we should be able to give our employers such\nan account of ourselves, as that they would be very far from being\nlosers by the voyage; but that, if we reached safe the coast of New\nSpain, and met with an open commerce there, as we expected, we should\nperhaps make the most prosperous voyage that was ever made round the\nglobe before.\nThese considerations put an end to all my thoughts of going northward;\nsome of our secret council, (for, by the way, we consulted our foremast\nmen no more, but had a secret council among ourselves, the resolutions\nof which we solemnly engaged not to disclose); some of these, I say,\nwere for steering the usual course, from the Philippines to New Spain,\nviz., keeping in the latitudes of 11 or 13\u00b0 north the line, and so\nmaking directly for California; in which latitude they proposed that we\nmight, perhaps, by cruising thereabout, meet with the Manilla ships,\ngoing from New Spain to Manilla, which we might take as prizes, and then\nstand directly for the coast of Peru. But I opposed this, principally\nbecause it would effectually overthrow all my meditated discoveries to\nthe southward; and, secondly, because I had observed, that, on the north\nof the line, there are no islands to be met with, in all the long run of\nnear two thousand leagues, from Guam, one of the Ladrones, to the land\nof California; and that we did not find we were able to subsist during\nso long a run, especially for want of water; whereas, on the south of\nthe line, as well within the tropic as without, we were sure to meet\nwith islands innumerable, and that even all the way; so that we were\nsure of frequent relief of fresh water, of plants, fowl, and fish, if\nnot of bread and flesh, almost all the way.\nThis was a main consideration to our men, and so we soon resolved to\ntake the southern course; yet, as I said, we stood away for the Ladrones\nfirst. These are a cluster of islands, which lie in about 11 to 13\u00b0\nnorth latitude, north-east from the Moluccas, or Spice Islands, and east\nand by north from that part of the Philippines where we were, and at the\ndistance of about four hundred leagues, and all the ships which go or\ncome between the Philippines and New Spain touch at them, for the\nconvenience of provisions, water, &c.; those that go to Spain put in\nthere, in order to recruit and furnish for, and those that come from\nSpain, to relieve themselves after so long a run as that of six thousand\nmiles, for so much it is at least from Guam to Acapulco; on these\naccounts, and with these reasonings, we came to the isles of the\nLadrones.\nDuring our run between the Philippine and Ladrone islands, we lived\nwholly upon our fresh provisions, of which we laid in a great stock at\nManilla, such as hogs, fowls, calves, and six or seven cows, all alive,\nso that our English beef and pork, which lay well stored, was not\ntouched for a long time.\nAt the Ladrones we recruited, and particularly took on board, as well\nalive as pickled up, near two hundred hogs, with a vast store of roots,\nand such things as are their usual food in that country. We took in also\nabove three thousand cocoa-nuts and cabbages; yams, potatoes, and other\nroots, for our own use; and, in particular, we got a large quantity of\nmaize, or Indian wheat, for bread, and some rice.\nWe stored ourselves likewise with oranges and lemons; and, buying a\ngreat quantity of very good limes, we made three or four hogsheads of\nlime-juice, which was a great relief to our men in the hot season, to\nmix with their water; as for making punch, we had some arrack and some\nsugar, but neither of them in such quantity as to have much punch made\nafore the mast.\nWe were eighteen days on our passage from the Strait of Mindora to Guam,\nand stayed six days at the latter, furnishing ourselves with\nprovisions, appearing all this while with French colours, and Captain\nMerlotte as commander. However we made no great ceremony here with the\nSpanish governor, as I have said already, only that Captain Merlotte,\nafter we had been here two days, sent a letter to him by a French\nofficer, who, showing his commission from the king of France, the\ngovernor presently gave us product, as we call it, and leave to buy what\nprovisions we wanted.\nIn compliment for this civility, we sent the governor a small present of\nfine scarlet camlet and two pieces of baize; and he made a very handsome\nreturn, in such refreshments as he thought we most wanted.\nThere was another reason for our keeping in this latitude till we came\nto the Ladrones; namely, that all the southern side of that part of the\nway, between the Philippines and the Ladrones, is so full of islands,\nthat, unless we had been provided with very good pilots, it would have\nbeen extremely hazardous; and, add to this, that, beyond these islands\nsouth, is no passage; the land, which they call Nova Guinea, lying away\neast and east-south-east, farther than has yet been discovered; so that\nit is not yet known whether that country be an island or the continent.\nHaving for all these reasons gone to the Ladrones, and being\nsufficiently satisfied in our reasons for going away from thence to the\nsouthward, and having stored ourselves, as above, with whatever those\nislands produced, we left the Ladrones the 10th day of September in the\nevening, and stood away east-south-east, with the wind north-north-west,\na fresh gale; after this, I think it was about five days, when, having\nstretched, by our account, about a hundred and fifty leagues, we steered\naway more to the southward, our course south-east-by-south.\nAnd now, if ever, I expected to do something by way of discovery. I knew\nvery well there were few, if any, had ever steered that course; or that,\nif they had, they had given very little account of their travels. The\nonly persons who leave anything worth notice being Cornelius Vanschouten\nand Francis Le Mare, who, though they sailed very much to the south, yet\nsay little to the purpose, as I shall presently show.\nThe sixteenth day after we parted from the Ladrones, being, by\nobservation, in the latitude of 17\u00b0 south of the line, one of our men\ncried, A sail! a sail! which put us into some fit of wonder, knowing\nnothing of a ship of any bulk could be met with in those seas; but our\nfit of wonder was soon turned to a fit of laughter, when one of our men\nfrom the foretop, cried out, Land! which, indeed, was the case; and the\nfirst sailor was sufficiently laughed at for his mistake, though, giving\nhim his due, it looked at first as like a sail as ever any land at a\ndistance could look.\nTowards evening we made the land very plain, distance about seven\nleagues south-by-east, and found that it was not an island, but a vast\ntract of land, extended, as we had reason to believe, from the side of\nGilolo, and the Spice Islands, or that which we call Nova Guinea, and\nnever yet fully discovered. The land lying away from the west-north-west\nto the south-east-by-south, still southerly.\nI, that was for making all possible discovery, was willing, besides the\nconvenience of water, and perhaps fresh provisions, to put in here, and\nsee what kind of country it was; so I ordered the brigantine to stand in\nfor the shore. They sounded, but found no ground within half a league of\nthe shore; so they hoisted out their boat, and went close in with the\nshore, where they found good anchor-hold in about thirty-six fathom, and\na large creek, or mouth of a river; here they found eleven to thirteen\nfathom soft oozy sand, and the water half fresh at the mouth of the\ncreek.\nUpon notice of this, we stood in, and came all to an anchor in the very\ncreek; and, sending our boats up the creek, found the water perfectly\nfresh and very good upon the ebb, about a league up the river.\nAmong all the islands in this part of the world, that is to say, from\nthe Philippines eastward, of which there are an infinite number, we\nnever came near any but we found ourselves surrounded with canoes and a\nvariety of boats, bringing off to us cocoa-nuts, plantains, roots, and\ngreens, to traffic for such things as they could get; and that in such\nnumbers, we were tired with them, and sometimes alarmed, and obliged to\nfire at them. But here, though we saw great numbers of people at a\ndistance from the shore, yet we saw not one boat or bark, nor anything\nelse upon the water.\nWe stayed two or three days taking in fresh water, but it was impossible\nto restrain our men from going on shore, to see what sort of a country\nit was; and I was very willing they should do so. Accordingly, two of\nour boats, with about thirty men in both of them, went on shore on the\neast side of the creek or harbour where our ship lay.\nThey found the country looked wild and savage; but, though they could\nfind no houses, or speak with the inhabitants, they saw their footsteps\nand their seats where they had sat down under some trees; and after\nwandering about a little, they saw people, both men and women, at a\ndistance; but they ran away from our men, at first sight, like\nfrightened deer; nor could they make any signal to them to be\nunderstood; for when our men hallooed and called after them, they ran\nagain as if they had been bewitched.\nOur men gathered a great variety of green stuff, though they knew not of\nwhat kind, and brought it all on board, and we eat a great deal of it;\nsome we boiled and made broth of, and some of our men, who had the\nscurvy, found it did them a great deal of good; for the herbs were of a\nspicy kind, and had a most pleasant agreeable taste: but none of us\ncould tell what to call them, though we had several men on board who had\nbeen among the Spice Islands before in Dutch ships.\nWe were very uneasy that we could get nothing here but a little grass\nand potherbs, as our men called it, and the men importuned me to let\nthem have two boats, and go up the river as high as the tide would carry\nthem; this I consented to, being as willing to make the discovery as\nthey; so I ordered the captain of the Madagascar ship, who had, as I\nhave said, been formerly my second mate, to go along with them.\nBut in the morning, a little before the flood was made, I was called out\nof my cabin to see an army, as they told me, coming to attack us. I\nturned out hastily enough, as may be easily conjectured, and such an\narmy appeared as no ship was ever attacked with; for we spied three or\nfour hundred black creatures, come playing and tumbling down the stream\ntowards us, like so many porpoises in the water. I was not satisfied at\nfirst that they were human creatures, but would have persuaded our men,\nthat they were sea-monsters, or fishes of some strange kind.\nBut they quickly undeceived us, for they came swimming about our ships,\nstaring and wondering and calling to one another, but said not one word\nto us, at least, if they did, we could not understand them.\nSome of them came very near our ships, and we made signs to them to\ncome on board, but they would not venture. We tossed one of them a rope,\nand he took hold of it boldly; but as soon as we offered to pull, he let\ngo, and laughed at us; another of them did the like, and when he let go,\nturned up his black buttocks, as in sport at us; the language of which,\nin our country, we all knew, but whether it had the same meaning here,\nwe were at a loss to know.\nHowever, this dumb manner of conversing with them we did not like,\nneither was it to any purpose to us; and I was resolved, if possible, to\nknow something more of them than we could get thus; so I ordered out our\npinnace with six oars, and as many other men well armed, to row among\nthem; and, if possible, to take some of them and bring them on board.\nThey went off, but the six-oar pinnace, though a very nimble boat, could\nnot row so fast as they could swim; for, if pulling with all their\nmight, they came near one of them, immediately, like dog and duck, they\nwould dive, and come up again thirty or forty yards off; so that our men\ndid not know which way to row after them; however, at last getting among\nthe thickest of them, they got hold of two, and with some difficulty\ndragged them in; but think of our surprise, to find they were not men,\nbut both young women. However, they were brought on board naked as they\nwere.\nWhen they came on board, I ordered they should have two pieces of linen\nwrapped round their waists to cover them, which they seemed well pleased\nwith. We gave them also several strings of beads, and our men tied them\nabout their necks, and about their arms like bracelets, and they were\nwonderfully delighted with their ornaments. Others of our men gave each\nof them a pair of scissors, with needles and some thread, and threading\nthe needles, showed them how to sew with them; we also gave them food,\nand each of them a dram of arrack, and made signs to know of them where\nthey lived; they pointed up to the river, but we could by no means\nunderstand them.\nWhen we had dressed them up thus with necklaces, and bracelets, and\nlinen, we brought them up upon the deck, and made them call to their\ncountry folk, and let them see how well they were used, and the girls\nbeckoned them to come on board, but they would not venture.\nHowever, as I thought the discovery we were to make, would be something\nthe easier on account of the usage of these two young women; for they\nwere not, as we guessed, above twenty or two-and-twenty years of age; we\nresolved that the boat should go on, as we intended, up the river; and\nthat, as the two women pointed that way, we should carry them along with\nus.\nAccordingly we sent two shallops, or large boats, which carried together\nsixty men, all well armed. We gave them store of beads and knives and\nscissors, and such baubles with them, with hatchets and nails, and\nhooks, looking-glasses, and the like; and we built up the sides and\nsterns of the boats, and covered them with boards, to keep off arrows\nand darts, if they should find occasion, so that they looked like London\nbarges. In this posture, as soon as the tide or flood was made up, our\nmen went away, carrying a drum and a trumpet in each boat; and each boat\nhad also two patereroes, or small cannon, fixed on the gunnel near the\nbow.\nThus furnished, they went off about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and\nto my very great uneasiness, I heard no more of them for four days. The\nwhole ship's company were indeed surprised at their stay, and the\ncaptain of the sloop would fain have had me let him have sailed up the\nriver with the sloop, as far as the channel would serve; which really we\nfound was deep enough. Indeed, as I was unwilling to run any more risks,\nI could not persuade myself, but that the force I had already sent was\nsufficient to fight five thousand naked creatures, such as the natives\nseemed to be, and therefore, I was very unwilling to send. However, I\nconsented at last to have our long-boat and two smaller boats manned\nwith fifty-four men more, very well armed, and covered from arrows and\ndarts as the other had been, to go up the river, upon their solemn\npromise, and with express order, to return the next day, at farthest;\nordering them to fire guns as they went up the river, to give notice to\ntheir fellows, if they could be heard, that they were coming; and that,\nin the mean time, if I fired three guns they should immediately return.\nThey went away with the tide of flood, a little before noon, and went up\nthe river about five leagues, the tide running but slowly, and a strong\nfresh of land-water that checked the current coming down; so that when\nthe tide was spent they came to an anchor. They found the river,\ncontrary to their expectation, continued both deep enough, and was wider\nin breadth than where the ships were at anchor; and that it had another\nmouth or outlet into the sea some leagues farther east, so that the land\nto the east of us, where our men went on shore, was but an island, and\nhad not many inhabitants, if any; the people they had seen there having\npossibly swam over the other arm or branch of the river, to observe our\nships the nearer. As our men found they could go no farther for want of\nthe tide, they resolved to come to an anchor; but, just as they were\nsounding, to see what ground they had, and what depth, a small breeze at\nnorth-east sprang up, by which they stemmed the current and reached up\nabout two leagues farther, when they hove over their grappling in five\nfathom water, soft ground; so that all this way, and much farther, every\none of our ships might have gone up the channel, being as broad as the\nThames is about Vauxhall.\nIt must be observed, that all along this river they found the land,\nafter they came past the place where the other branch of the river broke\noff, eastward, was full of inhabitants on both sides, who frequently\ncame down to the water-side in haste to look at our boats; but always\nwhen our men called to them, as if they thought our men inquired after\ntheir fellows, they pointed up the river, which was as much as to say,\nthey were gone farther that way.\nHowever, our men not being able to go any farther against the tide, took\nno notice of that; but, after a little while some of them, in one of the\nsmaller boats, rowed towards the shore, holding up a white flag to the\npeople in token of friendship; but it was all one, and would have been\nall one for aught we knew, if they had held up a red flag, for they all\nran away, men, women, and children; nor could our men by any\npersuasions, by gestures and signs of any kind, prevail on them to stay,\nor hardly so much as to look at them.\nThe night coming on, our men knew not well what course to take; they saw\nseveral of the Indians' dwellings and habitations, but they were all at\na distance from the river, occasioned, as our men supposed, by the\nriver's overflowing the flat grounds near its banks, so as to render\nthose lands not habitable.\nOur men had a great inclination to have gone up to one of the towns they\nsaw, but he that commanded would not permit it; but told them, if they\ncould find a good landing-place, that they might all go on shore, except\na few to keep the boats, if they chose to venture; upon which the\nsmallest boat rowed up about a mile, and found a small river running\ninto the greater, and here they all resolved to land; but first they\nfired two muskets, to give notice, if possible, to their comrades, that\nthey were at hand; however, they heard nothing of them.\nWhat impression the noise of the two muskets made among the Indians they\ncould not tell, for they were all run away before.\nThey were no sooner on shore, but, considering they had not above two\nhours day, and that the Indian villages were at least two miles off,\nthey called a council, and resolved not to march so far into a country\nthey knew so little of, and be left to come back in the dark; so they\nwent on board again, and waited till morning. However, they viewed the\ncountry, found it was a fertile soil, and a great herbage on the ground;\nthere were few trees near the river; but farther up where the Indian\ndwellings were, the little hills seemed to be covered with woods, but of\nwhat kind they knew not.\nIn the morning, before break of day, some of our men fancied they heard\na gun fired up the river; upon which the officer ordered two muskets to\nbe fired again, as had been done the evening before; and in about a\nquarter of an hour they were answered by the like firing, by which our\nmen knew that their comrades heard them; so, without pursuing their\nintended landing, the tide being then running upwards, they weighed, and\nset to their oars, having little or no wind, and that which they had\nblowing down the stream.\nAfter they had gone about a league, they heard a confused noise at a\ngreat distance, which surprised them a little at first; but, as they\nperceived it drew nearer and nearer, they waited awhile, when they\ndiscovered first here and there some people, then more, and then about\ntwo or three hundred men and women together, running, and every one\ncarrying something.\nWhere it was they were going to, or what it was they carried, our men\ncould not tell till they came nearer, when they found that they were all\nloaded with provisions, cocoa-nuts, roots, cabbages, and a great variety\nof things which the men knew little of; and all these were carrying\ndown to our ships, as we understood afterwards, in gratitude for our\nkind usage of the two young women.\nWhen these people saw our men and their three boats, they were at a full\nstop, and once or twice they were ready to lay down all their loads, and\nrun for it; but ours made signs of peace, and held up a white flag to\nthem.\nSome of them, it seems, having, as we found, conversed with our men, had\na little more courage than the rest, and came to the shore side, and\nlooked at the boats. One of our men thought of a stratagem to make known\nour desire of peace with them. Taking a string of beads and some toys,\nhe held them up at the end of the boat-hook staff, and showed them to\nthe Indians, pointing to them with his hand, and then pointing with the\nother hand to what the Indians carried, and to his mouth, intimating\nthat we wanted such things to eat, and would give him the beads for\nthem.\nOne of the Indians presently understood him, and threw himself into the\nwater, holding a bundle of plants, such as he had trussed up together,\nupon his head, and swimming with the other hand, came so near the boat,\nwhere our men held out the staff, as to reach the end of the staff, take\noff the string of beads and toys, and hang his bunch of trash, for it\nwas not better, upon the hook, and then went back again, for he would\ncome no nearer.\nWhen he was gotten on shore again, all his comrades came about him to\nsee what he had got; he hung the string of beads round his neck, and ran\ndancing about with the other things in his hand, as if he had been mad.\nWhat our men got was a trifle of less worth than a good bunch of carrots\nin England, but yet it was useful, as it brought the people to converse\nwith us; for after this they brought us roots and fruits innumerable,\nand began to be very well acquainted with us.\nBy that time our men had chaffered thus four or five times they first\nheard, and in a little while after saw, their two great boats, with\ntheir fellows, coming down the river, at about two miles' distance, with\ntheir drums and trumpets, and making noise enough.\nThey had been, it seems, about three leagues higher up, where they had\nbeen on shore among the Indians, and had set at liberty the two maidens,\nfor such they understood they were; who, letting their friends see how\nfine they were dressed, and how well they were used, the Indians were\nso exceedingly obliged, and showed themselves so grateful, that they\nthought nothing too much for them, but brought out all the sorts of\nprovisions which their country produced, which, it seem, amounted to\nnothing but fruits, such as plantains, cocoa-nuts, oranges and lemons,\nand such things, and roots, which we could give no name to; but that\nwhich was most for our use, was a very good sort of maize, or Indian\ncorn, which made us excellent bread.\nThey had, it seems, some hogs and some goats; but our men got only six\nof the latter, which were at hand, and were very good. But that which\nwas most remarkable was, that whereas in all the islands within the\ntropics the people are thievish, treacherous, fierce, and mischievous,\nand are armed with lances, or darts, or bows and arrows; these appeared\nto be a peaceable, quiet, inoffensive people; nor did our men see any\nweapon among them except a long staff, which most of the men carried in\ntheir hands, being made of a cane, about eight foot long, and an inch\nand a half in diameter, much like a quarter-staff, with which they would\nleap over small brooks of water with admirable dexterity.\nThe people were black, or rather of a tawny dark brown; their hair long,\nbut curling in very handsome ringlets: they went generally quite naked,\nboth men and women; except that in two places, our men said, they found\nsome of the women covered from the middle downward. They seemed to have\nbeen strangers to the sea; nor did we find so much as any one boat among\nthem: nor did any of the inhabitants dwell near the sea; but cultivated\ntheir lands very well, in their way; having abundance of greens and\nfruits growing about their houses; and upon which we found they chiefly\nlived. The climate seemed to be very hot, and yet the country very\nfruitful.\nThese people, by all we could perceive, had never had any converse with\nthe rest of the world by sea; what they might have by land we know not;\nbut, as they lie quite out of the way of all commerce, so it might be\nprobable they never had seen a ship or boat, whether any European ship,\nor so much as a periagua of the islands. We have mentioned their nearest\ndistance to the Ladrones, being at least four hundred leagues; and from\nthe Spice Islands, and the country of New Guinea, much more; but as to\nthe European shipping, I never heard of any that ever went that way,\nnor do I believe any ever did.\nI take the more notice of these people's not having conversed, as I say,\nwith the world, because of the innocence of their behaviour, their\npeaceable disposition, and their way of living upon the fruits and\nproduce of the earth; also their cultivation, and the manner of their\nhabitations; no signs of rapine or violence appearing among them. Our\nstay here was so little, that we could make no inquiry into their\nreligion, manner of government, and other customs; nor have I room to\ncrowd many of these things into this account. They went, indeed, as I\nhave said, naked, some of them stark naked, both men and women, but I\nthought they differed in their countenances from all the wild people I\never saw; that they had something singularly honest and sincere in their\nfaces, nor did we find anything of falsehood or treachery among them.\nThe gratitude they expressed for our kindly using the two young women I\nhave mentioned, was a token of generous principles; and our men told us,\nthat they would have given them whatever they could have asked, that was\nin their power to bestow.\nIn a word, it was on their account they sent that little army of people\nto us loaden with provisions, which our men met before the two shallops\ncame down. But all the provisions they had consisted chiefly in fruits\nof the earth, cocoa-nuts, plantains, oranges, lemons, &c., and maize, or\nIndian corn. We were not a sufficient time with them to inquire after\nwhat traffick they had, or whether anything fit for us. They had several\nfragrant plants, and some spices, particularly cinnamon, which we found,\nbut what else the country produced we knew not.\nWe came away from hence after seven days' stay, having observed little\nof the country, more than that it seemed to be very pleasant, but very\nhot; the woods were all flourishing and green and the soil rich, but\ncontaining little that could be the subject of trade; but an excellent\nplace to be a baitland, or port of refreshment, in any voyage that might\nafterwards be undertaken that way.\nWe set sail, I say, from hence in seven days, and, finding the coast lie\nfairly on our starboard side, kept the land on board all the way,\ndistance about three leagues; and it held us thus, about a hundred and\ntwenty leagues due east, when on a sudden we lost sight of the land;\nwhether it broke off, or whether it only drew off farther south, we\ncould not tell.\nWe went on two or three days more, our course south-east, when we made\nland again; but found it only to be two small islands, lying south and\nby east, distance nine leagues. We stood on to them, and two of our\nboats went on shore, but found nothing for our purpose; no inhabitants,\nnor any living creatures, except sea fowls, and some large snakes;\nneither was there any fresh water. So we called that land Cape Dismal.\nThe same evening we stood away full south, to see if we could find out\nthe continuance of the former land; but as we found no land, so a great\nsea coming from the south we concluded we should find no land that way.\nAnd, varying our course easterly, we ran with a fair fresh gale at\nnorth-west and by west, for seven days more; in all which time, we saw\nnothing but the open sea every way; and making an observation found we\nhad passed the southern tropic; and that we were in the latitude of 26\u00b0\n13', after which we continued our course still southerly for several\ndays more, until we found, by another observation, that we were in 32\u00b0\nThis evening we made land over our starboard bow, distance six leagues,\nand stood away south and by east: but the wind slackening we lay by in\nthe night; and in the morning found the land bearing east and by south,\ndistance one league and a half; a good shore, and on sounding, about\nfive-and-thirty fathom, stony ground. We now hoisted our boat out, and\nsent it on shore for discoveries, to sound the depth of the water, and\nsee for a good harbour to put in at.\nOur people went quite in with the shore, where they found several men\nand women crowded together to look at us. When our men came close to the\nland they hung out a white flag, but the wild people understood nothing\nof the meaning of it, but stood looking and amazed, and we have great\nreason to believe that they never had seen any ship or bark of any\nnation before. We found on our landing, no boats or sails, or anything\nthey had to make use of on the water; but some days after we saw several\nsmall canoes, with three or four men in each.\nOur men not being able to speak a word for them to understand, or to\nknow what was said to them, the first thing they did, was to make signs\nto them for something to eat; upon which three of them seemed to go\naway, and coming again in a few minutes, brought with them several\nbundles or bunches of roots, some plantains, and some green lemons, or\nlimes, and laid down all upon the coast. Our men took courage then to go\non shore, and, taking up what they brought, set up a stick, and upon the\nend of it hung five bunches or strings of blue and white beads, and went\non board again.\nNever was such joy among a wild people discovered, as these natives\nshowed, when they took the beads off the stick; they danced and capered,\nand made a thousand antic gestures, and, inviting our men on shore, laid\ntheir hands upon their breasts across, and then looked up, intimating a\nsolemn oath not to hurt us.\nOur men made signs, by which they made them understand, that they would\ncome again next morning, and also that they should bring us more\neatables; accordingly, we sent three boats the next morning, and our men\ncarried knives, scissors, beads, looking-glasses, combs, and any toys\nthey had, not forgetting glass beads and glass ear-rings in abundance.\nThe Indians were very ready to meet us, and brought us fruits and herbs\nas before; but three of them, who stood at a distance, held each of them\na creature exactly like a goat, but without horns or beard; and these\nwere brought to traffick with us.\nWe brought out our goods, and offered every one something; but the\nvariety was surprising to them who had never seen such things before.\nBut that which was most valuable of all our things, was a hatchet, which\none of their principal men took up and looked at it, felt the edge, and\nlaid it down; then took it up again, and wanted to know the use of it:\nupon which one of our men took it, and stepping to a tree that stood\nnear, cut off a small bough of it at one blow. The man was surprised,\nand ran to the tree with it, to see if he could do the same, and finding\nhe could, he laid it down, ran with all his might into the country, and\nby-and-by returning, came with two men more with him, to show them this\nwonderful thing, a hatchet.\nBut if they were surprised with the novelty of a hatchet, our men were\nas much surprised to see hanging round the ears of both the men that he\nbrought with him, large flat pieces of pure gold. The thread which they\nhung by was made of the hair of the goats, twisted very prettily\ntogether and very strong.\nOur men offering to handle them, to see if they were gold, one of the\nmen took off his two gold bobs, and offered them to our men for the\nhatchet. Our men seemed to make much difficulty of it, as if the hatchet\nwas of much greater value than those trifles; upon which he, being as we\nfound, superior, made the other, who came with him, pull off his two\near-jewels also; and so our unreasonable people took them all four,\nbeing of pure gold, and weighing together some grains above two ounces,\nin exchange for an old rusty hatchet. However unreasonable the price\nwas, the purchaser did not think it so; and so over-fond was he of the\nhatchet, that as soon as he had it for his own, he ran to the tree, and\nin a few minutes had so laid about him with the hatchet, that there was\nnot a twig left on it that was within his reach.\nThis exchange was a particular hint to me; and I presently directly my\nchief mate, and Captain Merlotte, to go on shore the next day, and\nacquaint themselves as much as they could with the natives, and, if\npossible, to find out where they had this gold, and if any quantity was\nto be found.\nCaptain Merlotte and my chief mate bestowed their time so well, and\nobliged the natives so much, by the toys and trifles they gave them,\nthat they presently told them that the gold, which they called Aarah,\nwas picked up in the rivers that came down from a mountain which they\npointed to, a great way off. Our men prevailed with three of them, to go\nwith them to one of these rivers, and gave them beads and such things to\nencourage them, but no hatchet; that was kept up at a high rate, and as\na rarity fit only for a king, or some great man who wore Aarah on his\nears.\nIn a word, they came to the river where they said they found this Aarah;\nand the first thing our men observed there, was an Indian sitting on the\nground, and beating something upon a great stone, with another stone in\nhis hand for his hammer: they went to see what he was doing, and found\nhe had got a lump of gold from the sand, as big as a swan-shot, of no\nregular shape, but full of corners, neither round nor square; and the\nman was beating it flat as well as he could.\nOne of our men, who had a hatchet in his hand, made signs to him to let\nhim flatten it for him; and so turning the back part of the hatchet,\nwhich served the purpose of a hammer, he beat the piece of gold flat in\nan instant; and then turning it upon the edge, beat it that way until he\nbrought it to be round also.\nThis was so surprising to the man who had been beating, that he stood\nlooking on with all the tokens of joy and amazement; and, desiring to\nsee the hatchet, looked this way and that way, upon those of his\ncountrymen who came with us, as if asking them if ever they saw the\nlike.\nWhen our man had done, he made signs to know if he had any more Aarah;\nthe man said nothing, but went down to the brink of the river, and,\nputting his hand into a hole, he brought out three little lumps of gold,\nand a great many smaller, some of them about as big as a large pin's\nhead; all which he had laid up there, in the hollow of a stone. Our man\nthought it was too much, to take all that for the hatchet; and therefore\npulled out some beads, and pieces of glass, and such toys; and, in\nshort, bought all this cargo of gold, which in the whole weighed near\nfive ounces, for about the value of two shillings.\nThough these bargains were very agreeable to us, yet the discovery of\nsuch a place, and of such a fund of treasure, in a part of the world,\nwhich it is very probable, was never before seen by any European eyes,\nnor so much as inquired after, was the greatest satisfaction imaginable\nto me; knowing the adventurous temper of the gentleman who was our\nprincipal employer. Upon this account, while my men busied themselves in\ntheir daily search after gold, and in finding out the rivers from whence\nit came, or rather where it was found, I employed myself to be fully\ninformed where this place was; whether it was an island or a continent;\nand having found a tolerable good road for our ships to ride in, I\ncaused my two shallops, well manned, to run along the coast, both east\nand west, to find which way it lay, and whether they could find any end\nof it; as also to see what rivers, what people, and what provisions they\ncould meet with.\nBy my observation, I found that we were in the latitude of 27\u00b0 13' south\nmeridian; distance from the Ladrones about 16\u00b0 east. While my shallops\nwere gone, I went on shore, and some of my men set up tents, as well for\nthe convenience of their traffick, as for their resting on shore all\nnight; keeping, however, a good guard, and having two of our ship's dogs\nwith them, who never failed giving them notice, whenever any of the\nnatives came near them; for what ailed the dogs I know not, but neither\nof them could bear the sight of the Indians, and we had much to do to\nkeep them from flying at them.\nWhile we rode here, we had the most violent storm of wind with rain, and\nwith great claps of thunder, that we had yet sustained since we came out\nof England. It was our comfort that the wind came off shore, for it blew\nat south, and shifting between the south, south-east, and south-west,\nwith such excessive gusts, and so furious, and withal, not only by\nsqualls and sudden flaws, but a settled terrible tempest, that had it\nbeen from off sea, as it was off shore, we must have perished, there had\nbeen no remedy, and even as it was, we rode in great danger. My\nboatswain called out twice to me to cut my masts by the board,\nprotesting we should either bring our anchors home, or founder as we\nrode; and indeed the sea broke over us many times in a terrible manner.\nAs I said before, we had an indifferent good road, and so we had, but\nnot a very good one, for the land was low; and on the east we lay a\nlittle open. However, our ground-tackle was good, and our ship very\ntight, and I told the boatswain I would rather slip the cable and go off\nto sea than cut the masts. However, in about four hours' time more we\nfound the wind abate, though it blew very hard for three days after.\nI was in great pain for my two shallops in this tempest, but they had\nboth the good luck to lie close under the shore; and one indeed had\nhauled quite upon the land, where the men lay on shore under their sail,\nso that they got no damage; and about three days after, one of them\nreturned, and brought me word they had been to the west, where they had\nmade very little discovery, as to the situation of the country, or\nwhether it was an island or a continent, but they had conversed with the\nnatives very often, and found several who had pieces of gold hanging,\nsome in their hair, some about their necks; and they made a shift to\nbring as many with them as weighed, all put together, seventeen or\neighteen ounces, for which they had bartered toys and trifles, as we\ndid; but they found no rivers, where they could discover any gold in\nthe sands, as We had done, so that they believed it all came from the\nside where we were.\nBut our other shallop had much better luck; she went away to the east,\nand by the time she had gone about sixteen leagues she found the shore\nbreak off a little, and soon after a little more, until at length they\ncame as it were to the land's end; when, the shore running due south,\nthey followed, according to their account, near thirteen leagues more.\nIn this interval they went several times on shore, entered three rivers,\nindifferently large, and one of them very large at the mouth, but grew\nnarrow again in three or four leagues; but a deep channel, with\ntwo-and-twenty to eight-and-twenty fathom water in it all the way, as\nfar as they went.\nHere they went on shore and trafficked with the natives, whom they found\nrude and unpolished, but a very mild inoffensive people; nor did they\nfind them anything thievish, much less treacherous, as in some countries\nis the case. They had the good luck to find out the place where, as they\nsupposed, the king of the country resided; which was a kind of a city,\nencompassed all round, the river making a kind of double horse-shoe. The\nmanner of their living is too long to describe; neither could our men\ngive any account of their government, or of the customs of the place;\nbut what they sought for was gold and provisions, and of those they got\npretty considerable quantities.\nThey found the Indians terribly surprised at the first sight of them;\nbut after some time they found means to let them know they desired a\ntruce, and to make them understand what they meant by it.\nAt length a truce being established, the king came, and with him near\nthree hundred men; and soon after the queen, with half as many women.\nThey were not stark naked, neither men nor women, but wearing a loose\npiece of cloth about their middles; what it was made of we could not\nimagine, for it was neither linen or woollen, cotton or silk; nor was it\nwoven, but twisted and braided by hand, as our women make bone lace with\nbobbins. It seems it was the stalk of an herb, which this was made with;\nand was so strong that I doubt not it would have made cables for our\nships, if we had wanted to make such an experiment.\nWhen the king first came to our men they were a little shy of his\ncompany, he had so many with him, and they began to retire; which the\nking perceiving, he caused all his men to stop, and keep at a distance;\nand advanced himself with about ten or twelve of his men, and no more.\nWhen he was come quite up, our men, to show their breeding, pulled off\ntheir hats, but that he did not understand, for his men had no hats on.\nBut the officer making a bow to him, he understood that presently, and\nbowed again; at which all his men fell down flat upon their faces, as\nflat to the ground as if they had been shot to death with a volley of\nour shot; and they did not fall so quick but they were up again as\nnimbly, and then down flat on the ground again; and this they did three\ntimes, their king bowing himself to our men at the same time.\nThis ceremony being over, our men made signs to them that they wanted\nvictuals to eat, and something to drink: and pulled out several things,\nto let the people see they would give something for what they might\nbring them.\nThe king understood them presently, and turning to some of his men he\ntalked awhile to them; and our men observed, that while he spoke they\nseemed to be terrified, as if he had been threatening them with death.\nHowever, as soon as he had done, three of them went away, and our men\nsupposed they went to fetch something that the king would give them;\nupon which, that they might be beforehand with them, our men presented\nhis majesty with two pair of bracelets of fine glass beads of several\ncolours, and put them upon his arms, which he took most kindly; and then\nthey gave him a knife, with a good plain ivory handle, and some other\nodd things. Upon receiving these _noble_ presents, he sends away another\nof his men, and a little after two more.\nOur men observed that two of the men went a great way off toward the\nhill, but the other man that he sent away first went to his queen, who,\nwith her retinue of tawny ladies, stood but a little way off, and soon\nafter her majesty came with four women only attending her.\nThe officer who commanded our men, finding he should have another kind\nof compliment to pay the ladies, retired a little; and, being an\ningenious handy sort of a man, in less than half-an-hour, he and another\nof his men made a nice garland, or rather a coronet, of sundry strings\nof beads, and with glass bobs and pendants, all hanging about it, most\nwonderful gay; and when the queen was come, he went up to the king, and\nshowing it to him, made signs that he would give it to the queen.\nThe king took it, and was so pleased with the present, that truly he\ndesired our officer to put it upon his own head, which he did; but, when\nhe had got it so placed, he let our men see he was king over his wife,\nas well as over the rest of the country, and that he would wear it\nhimself.\nOur men then pulled out a little pocket looking-glass, and, holding it\nup, let his majesty see his own face, which we might reasonably suppose\nhe had never seen before, especially with a crown on his head too.\nBefore he saw his own face in the glass he was grave and majestic, and\ncarried it something like a king; but he was so delighted with the\nnovelty that he was quite beside himself, and jumped and capered and\ndanced about like a madman.\nAll this while our men saw nothing coming, but that all was given on\ntheir side; whereupon they made signs again, that they wanted\nprovisions.\nThe king then made signs, pointing to a hill a good way off, as if it\nwould come from thence very quickly; and then looked to see if his\npeople were coming, as if he was impatient till they came, as well as\nour men.\nDuring this time, one of our men observed that the queen had several\npieces of gold, as they thought them to be, hanging about her,\nparticularly in her hair, and large flat plates of gold upon the hinder\npart of her head, something in the place of a roll, such as our women\nwear; that her hair was wound about it in rolls, braided together very\ncuriously; and having informed our officer, he made signs to the king\nfor leave to give the queen something, which he consented to. So he went\nto her majesty, making a bow as before; but this complaisance surprised\nher, for, upon his bowing, on a sudden falls the queen and all her four\nladies flat on the ground, but were up again in a moment; and our people\nwondered how they could throw themselves so flat on their faces, and not\nhurt themselves; nor was it less to be wondered at, how they could so\nsuddenly jump up again, for they did not rise up gradually as we must\ndo, with the help of our hands and knees, if we were extended so flat on\nour faces, but they, with a spring, whether with their hands or their\nwhole bodies, we knew not, sprang up at once, and were upon their feet\nimmediately.\nThis compliment over, our officer stepped up to the queen, and tied\nabout her neck a most delicate necklace of pearl; that is to say, of\nlarge handsome white glass beads, which might in England cost about\nfourpence halfpenny, and to every one of her ladies he gave another of\nsmaller beads, differing in colour from those which he gave the queen.\nThen he presented her majesty with a long string of glass beads, which,\nbeing put over her head, reached down to her waist before, and joined in\na kind of tassel, with a little knot of blue riband, which she was also\nextremely pleased with; and very fine she was.\nThe queen made, it seems, the first return; for, stepping to one of her\nwomen, our men observed that her attendant took something out of her\nhair, and then the queen let her tie her hair up again; after which her\nmajesty brought it and gave it to our officer, making signs to know if\nit was acceptable. It was a piece of gold that weighed about two ounces\nand a half; it had been beaten as flat as they knew how to beat it. But\nthe metal was of much more beauty to our men than the shape.\nOur officer soon let the queen and people see that he accepted the\npresent, by laying it to his mouth and to his breast, which he found was\nthe way when they liked anything. In short, our officer went to work\nagain, and in a little while he made a little coronet for the queen, as\nhe had done before for the king, though less; and, without asking leave\nof his majesty, went up to her and put it upon her head; and then gave\nher a little looking-glass, as he had done to the king, that she might\nview her face in it.\nShe was so surprised at the sight, that she knew not how to contain\nherself; but, to show her gratitude, she pulled out another plate of\ngold out of her own hair, and gave it to our officer; and, not content\nwith that, she sent one of her women to the crowd of females who first\nattended her, and whether she stripped them of all the gold they had, or\nonly a part, she brought so many pieces, that, when together, they\nweighed almost two pounds.\nWhen she was thus dressed she stepped forward very nimbly and gracefully\ntowards the king, to show him what she had got; and, finding he was\ndressed as fine as herself, they had work enough for near two hours to\nlook at one another, and admire their new ornaments.\nOur men reported, that the king was a tall, well-shaped man, of a very\nmajestic deportment, only that when he laughed he showed his teeth too\nmuch, which, however, were as white as ivory: as for the queen, saving\nthat her skin was of a tawny colour, she was a very pretty woman; very\ntall, a sweet countenance, admirable features, and, in a word, a\ncomplete handsome lady.\nShe was very oddly dressed; she was quite naked from her head to below\nher breasts; her breasts were plump and round, not flaggy and hanging\ndown, as it generally is with the Indian women, some of whose breasts\nhang as low as their bellies, but projecting as beautifully as if they\nhad been laced up with stays round her body; and below her breast she\nhad a broad piece of a skin of some curious creature, spotted like a\nleopard, probably of some fine spotted deer. This was wrapped round her\nvery tight, like a body-girt to a horse; and under this she had a kind\nof petticoat, as before described, hanging down to her ankles. As for\nshoes or stockings, they were only such as nature had furnished. Her\nhair was black, and, as supposed, very long, being wreathed up and\ntwisted in long locks about the plate of gold she wore; for when she\npulled off the plate above mentioned, it hung down her back and upon her\nshoulders very gracefully; but it seems she did not think so, for, as\nsoon as she found it so fallen down, she caused one of her women to roll\nit up, and tie it in a great knot which hung down in her neck, and did\nnot look so well as when it was loose.\nWhile the king and the queen were conversing together about their fine\nthings, as above, our men went back to the boat, where they left the\npurchase they had got, and furnished themselves with other things fit to\ntraffick with as they saw occasion; and they were not quite come up to\nthe king again, when they perceived that the men the king had sent up\ninto the country were returned, and that they brought with them a great\nquantity of such provisions as they had, which chiefly consisted of\nroots and maize, or Indian corn, and several fruits which we had never\nseen before. Some of them resembled the large European figs, but were\nnot really figs; with some great jars of water, having herbs steeped in\nit, and roots, that made it look as white as milk, and drank like milk\nsweetened with sugar, but more delicious, and exceeding cool and\nrefreshing. They brought also a great quantity of oranges, but they\nwere neither sweet nor sour, and our men believed they were not ripe;\nbut when they were dressed after the manner of the country, which they\nshowed our men, and which was to roast them before the fire, they had an\nadmirable flavour, and our men brought a great many away to us, and when\nwe roasted them they exceeded anything of the kind I had ever tasted.\nAfter our men had received what was brought, and shown that the whole\nwas very acceptable, the king made signs that he would be gone, but\nwould come again to them the next morning; and, pointing to the queen's\nhead, where the plate of gold had been that she had given to our men,\nintimated that he would bring some of the same with him the next day.\nBut while he was making these signs, one of his other messengers came\nback, and gave the king something into his hand wrapped up, which our\nmen could not see. As soon as the king had it, as if he had been proud\nto show our men that he could make himself and his queen as fine as they\ncould make him, he undid the parcel, and decked out his queen with a\nshort thing like a robe, which reached from her neck down to the spotted\nskin which she wore before, and so it covered her shoulders and breast.\nIt was made of an infinite number and variety of feathers, oddly, and\nyet very curiously put together; and was spangled all over with little\ndrops or lumps of gold; some no bigger than a pin's head, which had\nholes made through them, and were strung six or seven together, and so\ntied on to the feathers; some as big as a large pea, hanging single,\nsome as big as a horse-bean, and beaten flat, and all hanging\npromiscuously among the feathers, without any order or shape, which,\nnotwithstanding, were very beautiful in the whole, and made the thing\nlook rich and handsome enough.\nAs soon as he had thus equipped his queen, he put another upon himself,\nwhich was larger, and had this particular in its shape, that it covered\nhis arms almost to his elbows, and was so made that it came round under\nthe arm, and being fastened there with a string, made a kind of sleeve.\nAs the king's robe, or whatever it may be called, was longer, for it\ncame down to his waist, so it had a great deal more gold about it, and\nlarger pieces than that the queen wore. When their majesties had thus\nput on their robes, it may be guessed how glorious they looked, but\nespecially the queen, who being a most charming beautiful creature, as\nsaid before, was much more so when glistening thus with gold. Our men\nlooked very narrowly to observe whether there were any diamonds or\npearls among their finery, but they could not perceive any.\nThe king and queen now withdrew for that evening, but their people did\nnot leave our men so, for they thronged about them; and some brought\nthem jars of the white liquor, some brought them roots, others fruits,\nsome one thing, some another; and our men gave every one of them some\nsmall matter or other in proportion to what they brought. At last, there\ncame four particular tall lusty men, with bows and arrows; but before\nthey came close up to our men, they laid down their bows and arrows on\nthe ground, and came forward with all the tokens of friendship they were\nable to make.\nThey had two youths with them, each of whom led a tame fawn of pretty\nlarge growth, and when the men came up, they gave the two fawns to our\nmen; who, in return, gave each of them a knife, and some strings of\nbeads, and such toys as they had.\nOur men observed, that all these men had little bits of gold, some of\none shape, and some of another, hanging at their ears; and when our men\ncame to be familiar, they asked them as well as they could, where they\nfound that stuff? and they made signs to the sand in the river, and then\npointed towards that part of the country where our ships lay, which\nsignified to our men that the gold was, most of it, where we lay, not\nthere where the king and queen resided. Nay, when our men pointed again\nto the river where they were, and went and took up some of the sand, as\nif they would look for gold in it, they made signs of laughing at it,\nand that there was nothing to be found there, but that it lay all the\nother way.\nAnd yet two or three of the men, who, when the tide was out, went up the\nbank of the river, two or three miles upon the sands, peeping and trying\nthe sands as they went, they found three or four little bits of pure\ngold, though not bigger than pins heads; but no doubt farther up the\ncountry they might have found more.\nThese four men seeing how fond our people were of the gold, made signs\nthey could fetch gold to them if they would give them such things as\nthey liked; and ours again told them they should have anything they\npleased; and, as earnest, gave them some pieces of iron and bits of\nglass of small value, both which they were much delighted with.\nEarly in the morning their four customers came again, and brought\nseveral men, who seemed to be servants, along with them, loaden with\nrefreshments, such as the white water, mentioned above, which they\nbrought in earthen pots, very hard, made so by the heat of the sun. They\nbrought also three small deer with them, and a kind of coney or rabbit,\nbut larger, which our men were very glad of. But that which was above\nall the rest, they brought a good quantity of gold-dust, that is to say,\nsome in small lumps, some in bigger; and one of them had near a pound\nweight wrapped up in a piece of coney-skin, which was all so very small\nthat it was like dust; which, as our men understood afterwards, was\nreckoned little worth, because all the lumps had been picked out of it.\nOur men, to be sure, were very willing to trade for this commodity, and\ntherefore they brought out great variety of things to truck with them,\nmaking signs to them to pick out what they liked; but still keeping a\nreserve for the king and queen, whom they expected. Above all they had\nmade a reserve for the king of some extraordinary hatchets, which they\nhad not yet suffered to be seen, with a hammer or two, and some\ndrinking-glasses, and the like, with some particular toys for the queen.\nBut they had variety enough left besides for the four men: who, in\nshort, bought so many trinkets and trifles, that our men not only got\nall the gold they brought, but the very pieces of gold out of their\nears; in return for which our men gave them every one a pair of\near-rings, to hang about their ears, with a fine drop; some of green\nglass, some red, some blue; and they were wonderfully pleased with the\nexchange, and went back, we may venture to say, much richer in opinion\nthan they came.\nAs soon as these people had done their market, and indeed a little\nbefore, they perceived at a distance the king and queen coming with a\ngreat retinue; so they made signs to our men that they must be gone, and\nthat they would not have the king know that they had been there.\nI must confess, the relation of all this made me very much repent that\nI had not happened to have put in there with the ships; though indeed,\nas the road lay open to the east and south winds, it might have been\nworse another way; I mean, when the storm blew. However, as it is, I\nmust report this part, from the account given us by my men.\nWhen the king and queen came the second time, they were together, and\ndressed up, as our men supposed, with the utmost magnificence, having\nthe fine feathered spangled things about their shoulders; and the king\nhad over all his habit, a fine spotted robe of deer skins, neatly joined\ntogether; and which, as he managed it, covered him from head to foot;\nand, in short, it was so very beautiful that he really looked like a\nking with it.\nWhen he came to our men, and the ceremony of their meeting was over, the\nking, turning round, showed them, that he had brought them stores of\nprovisions; and indeed, so he had; for he had at least fifty men\nattending him, loaden with roots, and oranges, and maize, and such\nthings; in short, he brought them above twenty thousand oranges; a great\nparcel of that fruit like a fig, which I mentioned above, and other\nfruits. After which another party followed, and brought twenty live\ndeer, and as many of their rabbits, dead; the latter are as big as our\nhares.\nAs they came up, the king made signs to our men to take them; and our\nofficer making signs to thank his majesty, he ordered one of the queen's\nattendants to give him one of the feathered robes, such an one as the\nking himself had on; and made mighty fine with lumps and tassels of\ngold, as the other. And a tawny lass advancing to him offered to put it\nover his head, but he took it in his hand and put it on himself, and\nlooked as like a jack pudding in it, as any one could desire; for it\nmade no figure at all upon him, compared to what it did upon the\nIndians.\nWhen they had received all this, they could not but make a suitable\nreturn; and therefore our officer caused his reserve to be brought out;\nand first he gave his majesty a dozen of very handsome drinking-glasses\nof several sizes; with half a dozen of glass beakers, or cups, to the\nqueen, for the same use. Then he gave the king a little hanger, and a\nbelt to wear it by his side; and showed him how to buckle it on and take\nit off, and how to draw it out, and put it in again.\nThis was such a present, and the king was so delighted with it, that\nour officer said he believed the king did nothing but draw it and put it\nup again, put it on and pull it off, for near two hours together.\nBesides this he gave the king three hatchets, and showed him the uses of\nthem; also two large hammers, and a pair of very strong large shears,\nparticularly showing him, that with those hammers they might beat out\nthe gold lumps which they found in the rivers, and with the shears might\ncut the edges round, or into what shape they pleased, when they were\nbeaten thin.\nTo the queen he gave six little knives, and a dozen small\nlooking-glasses for her ladies; six pairs of scissors, and a small box\nfull of large needles; then he gave her some coarse brown thread, and\nshowed her how to thread the needle, and sew anything together with the\nthread; all which she admired exceedingly, and called her tawny maids of\nhonour about her, that they might learn also. And whilst they were\nstanding all together, our officer, to divert the king, sewed two of her\nwomen one to another by the lap of their waistcoats, or what else it\nmight be called; and when they were a little surprised at it, and began,\nas he thought, to be a little uneasy, he took the scissors, and at one\nsnap set them at liberty again, which passed for such an extraordinary\npiece of dexterity, that the king would needs have two of them sewed\ntogether again, on purpose to see it cut again. And then the king\ndesired he might have a needle and thread himself, and a pair of\nscissors; then he would sew some things together, and cut them asunder\nagain several times, and laugh most heartily at the ingenuity of it.\nBesides the above things, they gave her majesty a pair of ear-rings to\nhang on her ears, the glass in them looking green like an emerald; a\nring of silver, with false stones in it, like a rose diamond ring, the\nmiddle stone red like a ruby, which she went presently and gave to the\nking; but our officer made signs that he had one that was bigger for the\nking, and accordingly gave the king one much larger; and now they had\ndone giving presents, as they thought, when the king made a sign to the\nqueen, which she understood, and, calling one of her women, she brought\na small parcel, which the queen gave our officer into his hand, wherein\nwas about eleven pounds weight of gold-dust, but, as before, no lumps in\nit.\nOur men having thus finished their traffick, and being about to come\naway, they made signs to the king, that they would come again and bring\nhim more fine things; at which the king smiled, and pointing to the\ngold, as if telling them he would have more of that for them when they\ncame again.\nOur men had now their expectations fully answered; and, as I said, had\nended their traffick; and, taking leave of the king and all his retinue,\nretired to their shallop, the king and queen going away to their city as\nabove. The wind blowing northerly, they were seven days before they got\ndown to us in the ship; during which time they had almost famished the\ndeer they had left, five of which they had kept to bring us alive, and\nyet they went two or three times on shore to get food for them by the\nway.\nWe were all glad to see them again, and I had a great deal of reason to\nbe very well satisfied with the account of their traffick, though not\nmuch with their discovery, for they were not able to give us the least\naccount whether the land was a continent or an island.\nBut let that be how it will, it is certainly a country yet unfrequented\nby any of the Christian part of mankind, and perhaps, may ever be so,\nand yet may be as rich as any other part of the world yet discovered.\nThe mountains in most of the islands, as well as of the mainland in\nthose parts, abounding in gold or silver, and, no question, as well\nworth searching after as the coast of Guinea; where, though the quantity\nthey find is considerable, yet it is at this time sought after by so\nmany, and the negroes taught so well how to value it, that but a little\nis brought away at a time, and so much given for it, that, computing the\ncharge of the voyage, is oftentimes more than it is worth.\nBut though it is true that what gold is found here is a great way off,\nyet, I am persuaded such quantities are to be had, and the price given\nfor it so very trifling, that it would be well worth searching for.\nI reckon, that, including the gold our shallop brought, and what we got\non shore where we lay, we brought away about twenty-four pounds weight\nof gold; the expense of which we could not value at above ten or eleven\npounds in England, put it all together; and reckoning for all the\nprovisions we got there, which supplied us for twenty days after we came\naway.\nFor while our shallop was making her visit thus to the royal family,\n&c., as is related, our men were not idle on shore, but, partly by trade\nwith the natives, and by washing the sands in the small rivers, we got\nsuch a quantity of gold as well satisfied us for the stay we made.\nWe had been about eighteen days here when our shallop returned, and we\nstayed a week more trafficking with the people; and I am persuaded, if\nwe had been in the mind to have settled there and stayed till now, we\nshould have been very welcome to the people. We saw neither horse or\ncow, mule, ass, dog, or cat, or any of our European animals, excepting\nthat our men shot some wild ducks and widgeons, exactly the same which\nwe see in England, and very fat and good, but much easier to shoot than\nin England, having never been acquainted with the flash and noise of\nguns as ours have been; we also found a sort of partridges in the\ncountry not much unlike our own, and a great many of the whistling\nplover, the same with ours.\nThough this month's stay was unexpected, yet we had no reason to think\nour time ill spent. However, we did not think we ought to lie here too\nlong whatever we got; so we weighed and stood off to sea, steering still\nsouth-east, keeping the shore of this golden country in sight, till our\nmen told us they found the land fall off to the south. Then we steered\naway more southerly for six or eight days, not losing sight of, land all\nthe time, till by an observation we found we were in the latitude of 34\u00b0\n30' south of the line, our meridian distance from the Ladrones 22\u00b0 30'\neast, when a fresh gale of wind springing up at south and by east,\nobliged us to haul close for that evening. At night it blew such a storm\nthat we were obliged to yield to the force of it, and go away afore it\nto the north, or north-by-west, till we came to the point of that land\nwe passed before. Here, the land tending to the west, we ran in under\nthe lee of a steep shore, and came to an anchor in twenty-five fathoms\nwater, being the same country we were in before. Here we rode very safe\nfor five days, the wind continuing to blow very hard all the time from\nthe south-east.\nMy men would fain have had me gone ashore again and trafficked with the\npeople for more gold; but I, who was still in quest of further\ndiscoveries, thought I knew enough of this place to tempt my friend the\nmerchant, whose favourite design was that of making new discoveries, to\nanother voyage there, and that was enough for me. So I declined going\non shore again, except that we sent our boats for a recruit of fresh\nwater; and our men, while they were filling it, shot a brace of deer, as\nthey were feeding by the side of a swamp or moist ground, and also some\nwild ducks. Here we set up a great wooden cross, and wrote on it the\nnames of our ships and commanders, and the time that we came to an\nanchor there.\nBut we were obliged to a farther discovery of this country than we\nintended, by the following accident. We had unmoored early in the\nmorning, and by eight o'clock were under sail; by ten we had doubled the\npoint I mentioned above, and stood away south keeping the shore on\nboard, at the distance of about two leagues west.\nThe next day, the officer who had been with the shallop, showed us the\nopening or mouth where he had put in, and where he had made his traffick\nwith the king of the country, as said before.\nWe went on still for two days, and still we found the land extending\nitself south, till the third day in the morning, when we were a little\nsurprised to find ourselves, as it were, embayed, being in the bottom of\na deep gulf, and the land appearing right ahead, distance about three\nleagues; the coast having turned away to the east and by south, very\nhigh land and mountainous, and the tops of some of the hills covered\nwith snow.\nOur second mate and the boatswain, upon this discovery, were for coming\nabout, and sent to me for orders to make signals to the other ship and\nour brigantine, who were both ahead, to do the like; but I, who was\nwilling to acquaint myself as fully as I could with the coast of the\ncountry, which I made no question I should have occasion to come to\nagain, said, No, no, I will see a little farther first. So I ran on,\nhaving an easy gale at north-east and good weather, till I came within\nabout a league and a half of the shore, when I found, that in the very\nbite or nook of the bay, there was a great inlet of water, which either\nmust be a passage or strait between the land we had been on shore upon;\nwhich, in that case, must be a great island, or that it must be the\nmouth of some extraordinary great river.\nThis was a discovery too great to be omitted, so I ordered the\nbrigantine to stand in with an easy sail, and see what account could be\nhad of the place; accordingly they stood in, and we followed about a\nleague, and then lay by, waiting their signals. I had particularly\nordered them to keep two boats ahead to sound the depth all the way, and\nthey did so; and how it happened we knew not, but on a sudden we heard\nthe sloop fire two guns first, and then one gun; the first was a signal\nto us to bring to, and come no farther: the next was a signal of\ndistress. We immediately tacked to stand off, but found a strong current\nsetting directly into the bite, and there not being wind enough for us\nto stem the current, we let go our anchors in twenty fathoms water.\nImmediately we manned out all the boats we had, great and small, to go\nand assist our brigantine, not knowing what distress she might be in;\nand they found that she had driven up, as we were like to have done, too\nfar into the channel of a large river, the mouth of which, being very\nbroad, had several shoals in it: and though she had dropped her anchor\njust upon notice, which the boats who were sounding gave her, yet she\ntailed aground upon a sand-bank, and stuck fast; our men made no doubt\nbut she would be lost, and began to think of saving the provisions and\nammunition out of her. The two long boats accordingly began to lighten\nher; and first they took in her guns, and let out all her casks of\nwater: then they began to take in her great shot and the heavy goods.\nBut by this time they found their mistake, for the current, which I\nmentioned, was nothing but a strong tide of flood, which, the indraught\nof the river being considerable, ran up with a very great force, and in\nsomething less than an hour the brigantine floated again.\nHowever, she had stuck so long upon the sand, and the force of the\ncurrent or tide had been so great, that she received considerable\ndamage; and had a great deal of water in her hold. I immediately ordered\nout boats to row to the land, on both sides, to see if they could find a\ngood place to lay her on shore in; they obeyed the order, and found a\nvery convenient harbour in the mouth of a small river, which emptied\nitself into the great river about two leagues within the foreland of it,\non the north side, as the river Medway runs into the Thames, within the\nmouth of it, on the south, side, only this was not so far up.\nHere they ran in the sloop immediately, and the next day we came thither\nalso; our boats having sounded the whole breadth, of the main river,\nand found a very good channel, half a league broad, having from\nseventeen to four-and-twenty fathoms water all the way, and very good\nriding.\nHere we found it absolutely necessary to take everything out of the\nbrigantine to search her bottom, for her lying on shore had strained her\nseams, and broke one of her floor timbers; and having hands enough, our\nmen unloaded her in a very little time, and making a little dock for\nher, mended all the damage in about ten days' time. But seeing her in so\ngood a condition, and the place so convenient, I resolved to have her\nwhole bottom new calked and cleaned, that we made her as tight as she\nwas when she first came off the stocks.\nThis I took for a good opportunity to careen and clean our other ships\ntoo; for we had done little to them since we came from Madagascar. We\nfound our Madagascar ship much worm-eaten in her sheathing, which we\nhelped as well as we could by new nailing and by taking out some pieces\nof her sheathing, and putting new ones in. But as to our great ship, she\nwas sheathed with lead, and had received no damage at all; only that she\nwas very foul, which we remedied by scraping and cleaning, and new\ngraving her quite over.\nWe were not all employed in this work, and therefore we had leisure to\nmake the best of our time for the main work of new discoveries. And now\nI resolved to leave it no more to under officers, as I had done before,\nviz., when I gave the command of the shallop that traded with the king\nand queen, as above, to a midshipman, which I was very sorry for, though\nthe fellow did his business very well too; but, I say, I resolved not to\ntrust any one now but myself.\nIn the first place, I took the two shallops and went across the mouth of\nthe great river to the south shore, to see what kind of a country was to\nbe found there. For, as to the north side, where we were, we found it to\nbe much the same with that part where we had been before; with this\ndifference only, whereas, in the other place gold was to be had in\nplenty, but here was none we could find; nor did we perceive that the\npeople had any.\nI found the mouth of this river, or inlet, to be about four leagues over\nwhere I crossed it, which was about three leagues and a half within the\ninlet itself. But the weather being very calm, and the flood-tide\nrunning sharp, we let our boat drive up, in our crossing, about two\nleagues more; and we found the channel grew narrow so fast, that, where\nwe came to land, it was not full a league over; that about three leagues\nfarther we found it a mere river, not above as broad as the Thames at\nBlackwall.\nWe found it a steep shore, and, observing a little creek very convenient\nfor our purpose, we ran in our boats among some flags or rushes, and\nlaid them as soft and as safe as if they had been in a dock; we went all\non shore immediately, except two men in each boat left to guard our\nprovisions.\nWe had for arms, every man a musket, a pistol, and a cutlass; and in\neach boat we had six half pikes, to use as we might have occasion. We\nhad also every man a hatchet, hung in a little frog at his belt; and in\neach boat a broad axe and a saw.\nWe were furnished with strings of beads, bits of glass, glass rings,\near-rings, pearl necklaces, and suchlike jewellery ware innumerable;\nbesides knives, scissors, needles, pins, looking-glasses,\ndrinking-glasses, and toys in great plenty.\nWe were no sooner on shore but we found people in abundance; for there\nwere two or three, small towns within a little way of the shore; and I\nsuppose we might have the more people about us, because, as we\nunderstood afterwards, they had seen us before, though we had not seen\nthem.\nWe made signs to them, by putting our fingers to our mouths, and moving\nour chaps as if we were eating, that we wanted provisions; and we hung\nup a white flag for a truce. They presently understood the first signal,\nbut knew nothing of the last; and as to provisions, just as had been the\ncase before, they brought us out roots and fruits, such as they ate\nthemselves, but such as we had never seen before. Some of them, however,\nwere very sweet and good, and when we boiled them they tasted much like\nan English parsnip; and we gave them strings of beads, pieces of glass,\nand such things as we remarked they were fond of.\nWe found the people, as I observed of the other, very inoffensive and\nsincere; not quarrelsome, nor treacherous, nor mischievous in the least.\nAnd we took care not so much as to let them know the use or manner of\nour fire-arms for a great while; neither was there one piece fired all\nthe time we were among the other people, where we had so much gold. If\nthere had, it had been very probable that they would have fled the\ncountry, in spite of all the good usage we could have been able to have\nshown them.\nThe people where we were now were not so rich in gold as those where we\nwere before, but we found them much better stored with provisions; for\nbesides deer, of which they had great plenty and variety, for they had\nsome of a sort which I had never seen before, and besides an infinite\nnumber of those rabbits I have mentioned, which were as big as our\nhares, and which do not burrow in the ground as our rabbits do, they had\nalso a kind of sheep, large, (like those of Peru, where they are used to\ncarry burdens), and very good. They have no wool nor horns, but are\nrather hairy like a goat; nor should I call them sheep, but that their\nflesh eats like mutton, and I knew not what else to call them. The\nnatives called them huttash; but what breed, or from what part of the\nworld, or whether peculiar to this division alone, I know not.\nHowever, their flesh was very agreeable, and they were fat and good; and\nas the Indians were mightily pleased with the price we paid them, and\nthe goods we paid them in, they brought us more of these huttashes than\nwe knew what to do with; and as I can calculate the rate, I suppose we\nmight have them for about eight-pence, or sometimes not above sixpence\ncost each; for they would give us one very thankfully for a string or\ntwo of small beads, and think themselves mighty well paid.\nI found them so plentiful, and so easy to come at, that in short I sent\nfifty of them alive, tied neck and heels, in one of the shallops back to\nour ships, and ordered them to send their long-boats over for more; for\nthough it was so little a way over, we did not find they had any of them\non that side the river.\nWe did the Indians another piece of service, for, if they gave us meat,\nwe taught them to be cooks, for we showed them how to roast it upon a\nstick or spit before the fire; whereas they ate all their meat before,\neither stewed in earthen pots over the fire, with herbs, such as we did\nnot understand, or thrown on burning fuel of green wood, which always\nmade it taste and stink of the smoke most intolerably.\nWe had a great deal of opportunity now to converse with the people on\nboth sides the river; and we found them to be not only different\nnations, but of different speech and different customs. These on the\nsouth side, where I now was, seemed to be the best furnished with\nprovisions, and to live in the greatest plenty. But those on the north\nside appeared better clothed, and a more civilized sort of people; and\nof the two, seemed to have in their countenances something more\nagreeable.\nHowever, as they were near neighbours, for the river only parted them,\nthey were not very much unlike each other. That which seemed most\nstrange to me was, that we found they had little knowledge or\ncommunication one with another. They had indeed some boats in the river,\nbut they were very small, and rather served to just waft them over, or\nto fish in them, than for any other use; for we found none that could\ncarry above four men, and those very oddly made, partly as a canoe, by\nhollowing a tree, and partly by skins of beasts, dried and stuck on in\nsuch a manner that they would paddle along at a great rate with them.\nFor want of understanding their language I could come at no knowledge of\ntheir religion or worship; nor did I see any idols among them, or any\nadoration paid to the sun or moon. But yet, as a confirmation that all\nnations, however barbarous, have some notion of a God, and some awe of a\nsuperior power, I observed here, that, in making a bargain with one of\nthe principal men, (such I perceived him to be by the respect the rest\nshowed him), I say, being making a bargain with him, as well as could be\ndone between two people who understood not one word of what either said,\nhe had made signs to bring me twelve sheep the next morning, for some\nthings that I was to deliver him of mine. I am sure the goods were not\nall of them of value sufficient to give me the least distrust; but when\nI gave him the goods without the sheep, being, as I said, to trust him\ntill the next day, he called two men to him, and pointing to the goods\nthat I had put into his hands, he tells upon his fingers twelve, letting\nthem know, as I supposed, that he was to give me twelve sheep the next\nday in return, and so far it appeared they were to be witnesses of the\nagreement. He then placed his two hands, one upon each breast, with the\nfingers turned up towards his face, and holding them thus he looked\ntowards heaven, with his face turned upward also, and with the utmost\ngravity, seriousness, and solemnity in his countenance that ever I saw\nin any man's face in my life, he moved his lips in the action of\nspeaking. When he had continued in this posture about a quarter of a\nminute, he took the two men, and put them in the same attitude, and then\npointed to me, and next to himself; by which I understood, first, that\nhe solemnly swore to me that he would bring the sheep punctually and\nfaithfully to me, and then brought the two men to be bail or security\nfor the performance; that is to say, to oblige themselves to perform it\nif he did not.\nDoubtless those people who have any notion of a God must represent him\nto themselves as something superior, and something that sees, and hears,\nand knows what they say or do. Whether these people meant the sun, or\nthe moon, or the stars, or other visible object, or whatever else, I do\nnot pretend to determine, but it is certain they understood it to be\nsomething to swear by; something that could bear witness of their\nengagement, and that being called to witness it would resent their\nbreach of promise if they made it. As to those whose gods are monsters,\nand hideous shapes, frightful images, and terrible figures, the motive\nof their adoration being that of mere terror, they have certainly gross\nideas; but these people seem to act upon a more solid foundation, paying\ntheir reverence in a manner much more rational, and to something which\nit was much more reasonable to worship, as appeared in the solemnity of\ntheir countenances, and their behaviour in making a solemn promise.\nWe found those people clothed, generally speaking, over their whole\nbodies, their heads, arms, legs and feet excepted, but not so agreeably\nas those we mentioned above; and we found that the clothing of these\nwere generally made of the skins of beasts, but very artfully put\ntogether, so that though they had neither needle nor thread, yet they\nhad the same plant as I mentioned before, the stalk of which would so\nstrongly tie like a thread, that they peeled it off thicker or finer as\nthey had occasion, and made use of it abundance of ways to tie and\ntwist, and make their clothes with it, as well for their occasion as if\nit had been woven in a loom.\nWe found several of these people had little bits of gold about them; but\nwhen we made signs to them to know where they got it, and where it might\nbe had, they made signs to us, pointing to the country on the north side\nof the river; so that we had, it seems, fallen upon the right gold\ncoast in our first coming. They pointed indeed likewise to some very\nhigh mountains, which we saw at a great distance south-west, so that it\nseems as if there was gold found that way also; but it appeared the\npeople here had not much of it for their share.\nThe men here had bows and arrows, and they used them so dexterously,\nthat a wild goose flying over our heads, one of the Indians shot it\nquite through with an arrow. One of our men was so provoked to see them,\nas it were, to outdo him, that, some time after, seeing a couple of\nducks flying fair for a mark, he presented his piece, and shot them both\nflying.\nI was very angry when I heard the gun; had I been there he had never got\nleave to fire; however, when it was done, I was pleased well enough to\nsee the effect it had upon these poor innocent well-meaning people. At\nfirst it frightened them to the last degree, and I may truly say it\nfrightened them out of their senses, for they that were near it started\nso violently, that they fell down and lay speechless for some time;\nthose that were farther off ran away, as if it had been some new kind of\nlightning and thunder, and came out of the earth instead of out of the\nclouds; but when they saw the two creatures fall down dead from above,\nand could see nothing that flew upward to kill them, they were perfectly\nastonished, and laid their two hands on their breasts and looked up to\nheaven, as if they were saying their prayers, in the most solemn manner\nimaginable.\nHowever, this accident gave them terrible ideas of us, and I was afraid\nat first they would run all away from us through fear. I therefore used\nthem after it with all the kindness and tenderness imaginable, gave them\nevery day some trifle or other, which, though of no value to me, they\nwere exceedingly fond of; and we asked nothing of them in return but\nprovisions, of which they had great plenty, and gave us enough every day\nto satisfy us. As for drink, they had none of the milky liquor which we\nhad in the other part of the country, but they had a root which they\nsteeped in water, and made it taste hot, as if pepper had been in it,\nwhich made it so strong, that though it would not make our men drunk, it\nwas worse, for it made them nearly mad.\nI was so pleased with these people that I came over to them every other\nday, and some of our men lay on shore, under a sail pitched for a tent;\nand they were so safe, that at last they kept no watch, for the poor\npeople neither thought any harm, nor did any; and we never gave them the\nleast occasion to apprehend anything from us, at least not till our man\nfired the gun, and that only let them know we were able to hurt them,\nwithout giving them the least suspicion that we intended it; on the\ncontrary, one of our men played an odd prank with a child, and fully\nsatisfied them that we would do them no harm. This man having seen one\nof their children, a little laughing speechless creature, of about two\nyears old, the mother having gone from it a little way, on some\nparticular occasion, the fellow took it and led it home to the tent, and\nkept it there all night.\nThe next morning, he dressed it up with beads and jewels wondrous fine,\na necklace about its neck, and bracelets of beads about its wrists, and\nseveral strings of beads wrapped up and tied in its hair, having fed it\nand laid it to sleep, and made much of it.\nIn this figure he carried it up in his arms to the Indian's hut where he\nhad found it, and where there had been a lamentable outcry for the child\nall the night, the mother crying and raising her neighbours, and in a\nmost strange concern.\nBut when some of the women, her neighbours, saw the child brought back,\nthere was a contrary extreme of joy; and the mother of it being fetched,\nshe fell a-jumping and dancing to see her child, but also making so many\nodd gestures, as that our men could not well know for awhile whether she\nwas pleased or not: the reason it seems was, she did not know whether to\nhope or fear, for she did not know whether the man would give back her\nchild or take it away again.\nBut when the man who had the child in his arms had been told by signs\nthat this was the mother, he beckoned to have her come to him, and she\ncame, but trembling for fear. Then he took the child, and kissing it two\nor three times, gave it her into her arms. But it is impossible to\nexpress by words the agony the poor woman was in; she took the child,\nand holding it in her arms fixed her eyes upon it without motion, or, as\nit were, without life, for a good while; then she took it and embraced\nit in the most passionate manner imaginable; when this was over, she\nfell a-crying so vehemently till she sobbed; and all this while spoke\nnot one word. When the crying had given sufficient vent to her passion,\nthen she fell a-dancing and making a strange odd noise, that cannot be\ndescribed, and at last she left the child, and came back to the place\nwhere our men were, and to the man that brought her child, and, as soon\nas she came up to him, she fell flat on the ground, as I have described\nabove the queen and her women did, and up again immediately; and thus\nshe did three times, which it seems was her acknowledgment to him for\nbringing it back.\nThe next day, for her gratitude did not end here, she came down to our\ntent, and brought with her two sheep, with a great back-burden of roots\nof the kind which I said the natives steep in the water, and several\nfruits of the country, as much as two men who came with her could carry,\nand these she gave all to the man who had brought back her child. Our\nmen were so moved at the affectionate carriage of this poor woman to her\ninfant, that they told me it brought tears from their eyes.\nThe man who received the present took the woman and dressed her up\nalmost as fine as he had done the child, and she went home like a kind\nof a queen among them.\nWe observed while we stayed here that this was a most incomparable soil;\nthat the earth was a fat loamy mould; that the herbage was strong; that\nthe grass in some places was very flourishing and good, being as high as\nour mid-thigh; and that the air was neither very hot, nor, as we\nbelieved, very cold. We made an experiment of the fruitfulness of the\nsoil, for we took some white peas, and digging the ground up with a\nspade, we sowed some, and before we went away we saw them come out of\nthe ground again, which was in about nine days.\nWe made signs to the people that they should let them grow, and that if\nthey gathered them they were good to eat; we also sowed some English\nwheat, and let them know, as well as we could, what the use of them both\nwas. But I make no doubt but they have been better acquainted with, both\nby this time, by an occasion which followed.\nOur men were so fond of this place, and so pleased with the temper of\nthe people, the fruitfulness of the soil, and agreeableness of the\nclimate, that about twenty of them offered me, if I would give them my\nword to come again, or send to them to relieve and supply them with\nnecessaries, they would go on shore and begin a colony, and live all\ntheir days there. Nay, after this, their number came up to\nthree-and-thirty; or they offered, that, if I would give them the\nsloop, and leave them a quantity of goods, especially of such toys as\nthey knew would oblige the people to use them well, they would stay at\nall hazards, not doubting, as they told me, but they should come to\nEngland again at last, with the sloop full of gold.\nI was not very willing to encourage either of these proposals, because,\nas I told them, I might perhaps find a place as fit to settle a colony\nin before we came home, which was not at such an excessive distance from\nEngland, so that it was scarce possible ever to relieve them. This\nsatisfied them pretty well, and they were content to give over the\nproject; and yet, at last, which was more preposterous than all the\nrest, five of our men and a boy ran away from us and went on shore, and\nwhat sort of life they led, or how they managed, we could not tell, for\nthey were too far off us to inquire after them again. They took a small\nyawl with them, and it seems had furnished themselves privately with\nsome necessary things, especially, tools, a grindstone, a barrel of\npowder, some peas, some wheat, and some barley; so that it seems they\nare resolved to plant there. I confess I pitied them, and when I had\nsearched for them, and could not find them, I caused a letter to be\nwritten to them, and fixed it upon a post at the place where our ship\ncareened; and another letter on the south side, to tell them that in\nsuch a certain place I had left other necessaries for them, which I did,\nmade up in a large case of boards or planks, and covered with boards\nlike a shed.\nHere I left them hammocks for lodging, all sorts of tools for building\nthem a house, spades, shovels, pickaxes, an axe, and two saws, with\nclothes, shoes, stockings, hats, shirts, and, in a word, every thing\nthat I could think of for their use; and a large box of toys, beads,\n&c., to invite the natives to trade with them.\nOne of our men, whom they had made privy to their design, but made him\npromise not to reveal it until they were gone, had told them that he\nwould persuade me, if he could, to leave them a farther supply; and bade\nthem come to the place after the ships were gone, and that they should\nfind directions left for them on a piece of a board, or a letter from\nhim set up upon a post. Thus they were well furnished with all things\nfor immediate living.\nI make no doubt but they came to find these things; and, since they had\na mind to make trial of a wild retired life, they might shift very well;\nnor would they want anything but English women to raise a new nation of\nEnglish people, in a part of the world that belongs neither to Europe,\nAsia, Africa, or America. I also left them every man another gun, a\ncutlass, and a horn for powder; and I left two barrels of fine powder,\nand two pigs of lead for shot, in another chest by itself.\nI doubt not but the natives will bestow wives upon them, but what sort\nof a posterity they will make, I cannot foresee, for I do not find by\ninquiry that the fellows had any great store of knowledge or religion in\nthem, being all Madagascar men, as we called them, that is to say,\npirates and rogues; so that, for aught I know, there may be a generation\nof English heathens in an age or two more; though I left them five\nBibles, and six or seven Prayer-books, and good books of several sorts,\nthat they might not want instruction, if they thought fit to make use of\nit for themselves or their progeny.\nIt is true, that this is a country that is remote from us of any in the\nyet discovered world, and consequently it would be suggested as\nunprofitable to our commerce; but I have something to allege in its\ndefence, which will prove it to be infinitely more advantageous to\nEngland than any of our East India trade can be, or that can be\npretended for it. The reason is plain in a few words; our East India\ntrade is all carried on, or most part of it, by an exportation of\nbullion in specie, and a return of foreign manufactures or produce; and\nmost of these manufactures also, either trifling and unnecessary in\nthemselves, or such as are injurious to our own manufactures. The solid\ngoods brought from India, which may be said to be necessary to us, and\nworth sending our money for, are but few; for example,\n1. The returns which I reckon trifling and unnecessary, are such as\nChina ware, coffee, tea, Japan work, pictures, fans, screens, &c.\n2. The returns that are injurious to our manufactures, or growth of our\nown country, are printed calicoes, chintz, wrought silks, stuffs, of\nherbs and barks, block-tin, sugar, cotton, arrack, copper, and indigo.\n3. The necessary or useful things are, pepper, saltpetre, dying-woods\nand dying-earths, drugs, lacs, such as shell-lac, stick-lac, &c.,\ndiamonds, some pearl, and raw-silk.\nFor all these we carry nothing or very little but money, the\ninnumerable nations of the Indies, China, &c., despising our\nmanufactures, and filling us with their own.\nOn the contrary, the people in the southern unknown countries, being\nfirst of all very numerous, and living in a temperate climate, which\nrequires clothing, and having no manufactures, or materials for\nmanufactures, of their own, would consequently take off a very great\nquantity of English woollen manufactures, especially when civilized by\nour dwelling among them, and taught the manner of clothing themselves\nfor their ease and convenience; and, in return for these manufactures,\nit is evident we should have gold in specie, and perhaps spices, the\nbest merchandise and return in the world.\nI need say no more to excite adventurous heads to search out a country\nby which such an improvement might be made, and which would be such an\nincrease of, or addition to, the wealth and commerce of our country.\nNor can it be objected here, that this nook of the country may not\neasily be found by any one but by us, who have been there before, and\nperhaps not by us again exactly; for, not to enter into our journal of\nobservations for their direction, I lay it down as a foundation, that\nwhoever sailing over the South Seas keeps a stated distance from the\ntropic, to the latitude of 56 to 60\u00b0, and steers eastward towards the\nStraits of Magellan, shall never fail to discover new worlds, new\nnations, and new inexhaustible funds of wealth and commerce, such as\nnever were yet known to the merchants of Europe.\nThis is the true ocean called the South Sea; that part which we\ncorruptly call so can be so in no geographical account, or by any rule,\nbut by the mere imposition of custom, it being only originally called\nso, because they that sailed to it were obliged to go round the\nsouthernmost part of America to come into it; whereas it ought indeed to\nbe called the West Sea, as it lies on the west side of America, and\nwashes the western shore of that great continent for near eight thousand\nmiles in length; to wit, from 56\u00b0 south of the line to 70\u00b0 north, and\nhow much farther we know not; on this account I think it ought to be\ncalled the American Ocean, rather than with such impropriety the South\nSea.\nBut this part of the world where we were may rightly be called the South\nSea, by way of distinction, as it extends from India round the globe,\nto India again, and lies all south of the line even, for aught we know,\nto the very South Pole, and which, except some interposition of land,\nwhether islands or continent, really surrounds the South Pole.\nWe were now in the very centre or middle of this South Sea, being, as I\nhave said, in the latitude of 34\u00b0 20'; but having had such good success\nin our inquiry or search after new continents, I resolved to steer to\nthe south and south-east, as far as till we should be interrupted by\nland or ice, determining to search this unknown part of the globe as far\nas nature would permit, that I might be able to give some account to my\nemployers, and some light to other people that might come that way,\nwhether by accident or by design.\nWe had spent six-and-twenty days in this place, as well in repairing our\nbrigantine and careening, as trimming our ship; we had not been so long,\nbut, that we did not resolve to careen our ships till we had spent ten\ndays about the brigantine, and then we found more work to do to the\nsheathing of the Madagascar ship than we expected.\nWe stored ourselves here with fresh provisions and water, but got\nnothing that we could properly call a store, except the flesh of about\nthirty deer, which we dried in the sun, and which proved indifferently\ngood afterwards, but not extraordinary.\nWe sailed again the six-and-twentieth day after we came in, having a\nfair wind at north and north-north-west, and a fresh gale which held us\nfive days without intermission; in which time, running away south and\nsouth-south-east, we reached the former latitude, where we had been, and\nmeeting with nothing remarkable, we steered a little farther to the\neastward; but keeping a southerly course still, till we came into the\nlatitude of 41\u00b0, and then going due east, with the wind at north and by\nwest, we reckoned our meridian distance from the Ladrones, to be 50\u00b0\nIn all this run we saw no land, so we hauled two points more southerly,\nand went on for six or seven days more; when one of our men on the round\ntop, cried Land! It was a clear fine morning, and the land he espied\nbeing very high, it was found to be sixteen leagues distance; and the\nwind slackening, we could not get in that night, so we lay by till\nmorning, when being fair with the land, we hoisted our boat to go and\nsound the shore, as usual. The men rowed in close with the shore and\nfound a little cove, where there was good riding, but very deep water,\nbeing no less than sixty fathoms within cable's length of the shore.\nWe went in, however, and after we were moored sent our boat on shore to\nlook for water, and what else the country afforded. Our men found water,\nand a good sort of country, but saw no inhabitants; and, upon coasting a\nlittle both ways on the shore, they found it to be an island, and\nwithout people; but said that about three leagues off to the southward,\nthere seemed to be a Terra Firma, or continent of land, where it was\nmore likely we should make some discovery.\nThe next day we filled water again, and shot some ducks, and the day\nafter weighed and stood over for the main, as we thought it to be. Here,\nusing the same caution as we always had done, viz., of sounding the\ncoast, we found a bold shore and very good anchor hold, in\nsix-and-twenty to thirty fathoms.\nWhen we came on shore, we found people, but of a quite different\ncondition from those we had met with before, being wild, furious, and\nuntractable; surprised at the sight of us, but not intimidated;\npreparing for battle, not for trade; and no sooner were we on shore but\nthey saluted us with their bows and arrows. We made signals of truce to\nthem, but they did not understand us, and we knew not what to offer them\nmore but the muzzles of our muskets; for we were resolved to see what\nsort of folks they were, either by fair means or foul.\nThe first time, therefore, that they shot at our men with their bows and\narrows, we returned the salute with our musket-ball, and kill two of\ntheir foremost archers. We could easily perceive that the noise of our\npieces terrified them, and the two men being killed, they knew not how,\nor with what, perfectly astonished them; so that they ran, as it were,\nclean out of the country, that is to say, clean out of our reach, for we\ncould never set our eyes upon them after it. We coasted this place also,\naccording to our usual custom; and, to our great surprise, found it was\nan island too, though a large one; and that the mainland lay still more\nto the southward, about six leagues distance, so we resolved to look out\nfarther, and accordingly set sail the next day, and anchored under the\nshore of this last land, which we were persuaded was really the main.\nWe went on shore here peaceably, for we neither saw any people, or the\nappearance of any, but a charming pleasant valley, of about ten or\neleven miles long, and five or six miles broad; and then it was\nsurrounded with mountains, which reached the full length, running\nparallel with the valley, and closing it in to the sea at both ends; so\nthat it was a natural park, having the sea on the north side, and the\nmountains in a semicircle round all the rest of it. These hills were so\nhigh, and the ways so untrod and so steep, that our men, who were\ncurious enough to have climbed up to the top of them, could find no way\nthat was practicable to get up, and after two or three attempts gave it\nover.\nIn this vale we found abundance of deer, and abundance of the same kind\nof sheep which I mentioned lately. We killed as many of both as we had\noccasion for; and, finding nothing here worth our staying any longer\nfor, except that we saw something like wild rice growing here, we\nweighed after three days, and stood away still to the south.\nWe had not sailed above two days with little wind and an easy sail, when\nwe perceived this also was an island, though it must be a large one;\nfor, by our account, we sailed near a hundred and fifty miles along the\nshore of it, and we found the south part a flat pleasant country enough;\nand our men said they saw people upon it on the south side, but we went\nnot on shore there any more.\nSteering due south from hence in quest of the mainland, we went on\neleven days more, and saw nothing significant, and, upon a fair\nobservation, I found we were in the latitude of 47\u00b0 8' south; then I\naltered my course a little to the eastward, finding no land, and the\nweather very cold, and going on with a fresh gale at south-south-west\nfor four days, we made land again; but it was now to the\neast-north-east, so that we were gotten, as we may say, beyond it.\nWe fell in with this land in the evening, so that it was not perceived\ntill we were within half a league of it, which very much alarmed us, the\nland being low; and having found our error, we brought to and stood off\nand on till morning, when we saw the shore lie, as it were, under our\nlarboard bow, within a mile and a quarter distance, the land low, but\nthe sea deep and soft ground. We came to anchor immediately, and sent\nour shallops to sound the shore, and the men found very good riding in a\nlittle bay, under the shelter of two points of land, one of which made a\nkind of hook, under which we lay secure from all winds that could blow,\nin seventeen fathoms good ground. Here we had a good observation, and\nfound ourselves in the latitude of 50\u00b0 21'. Our next work was to find\nwater, and our boats going on shore, found plenty of good water and some\ncattle, but told us they could give no account what the cattle were, or\nwhat they were like. In searching the coast, we soon found this was an\nisland also, about eleven leagues in length, from north-west to\nsouth-east, what breadth we could not tell. Our men also saw some signs\nof inhabitants. The next day six men appeared at a distance, but would\ntake notice of no signals, and fled as soon as our men advanced. Our\npeople went up to the place were they lay, and found they had made a\nfire of some dry wood; that they had laid there, as they suppose, all\nnight, though without covering. They found two pieces of old ragged\nskins of deer, which looked as if worn out by some that had used them\nfor clothing, and one piece of a skin of some other creature, which had\nbeen rolled up into a cap for the head; also a couple of arrows of about\nfour feet long, very thick, and made of a hard and heavy wood; so they\nmust have very large and strong bows to shoot such arrows, and\nconsequently must be men of an uncommon strength.\nOur men wandered about the country three or four days, with less caution\nthan the nature of their situation required; for they were not among a\npeople of an innocent, inoffensive temper here, as before, but among a\nwild, untractable nation, that perhaps had never seen creatures in their\nown likeness before, and had no thought of themselves but of being\nkilled and destroyed, and consequently had no thought of those they had\nseen but as of enemies, whom they must either destroy, if they were\nable, or escape from them if they were not. However, we got no harm,\nneither would the natives ever appear to accept any kindnesses from us.\nWe had no business here, after we found what sort of people they were\nwho inhabited this place; so, as soon as we had taken in fresh water,\nand caught some fish, of which we found good store in the bay or harbour\nwhere we rode, we prepared to be gone. Here we found the first oysters\nthat we saw anywhere in the South Seas; and, as our men found them but\nthe day before we were to sail, they made great entreaty to me to let\nthem stay one day to get a quantity on board, they being very\nrefreshing, as well as nourishing, to our men.\nBut I was more easily prevailed with to stay, when Captain Merlotte\nbrought me, out of one oyster that he happened to open, a true oriental\npearl, so large and so fine, that I sold it, since my return, for\nthree-and-fifty pounds.\nAfter taking this oyster, I ordered all our boats out a dredging, and in\ntwo days' time so great a quantity there was, that our men had taken\nabove fifty bushels, most of them very large. But we were surprised and\ndisappointed, when, at the opening all those oysters, we found not one\npearl, small or great, of any kind whatever, so we concluded that the\nother was a lucky hit only, and that perhaps there might not be any more\nof that kind in these seas.\nWhile we were musing on the oddness of this accident, the boatswain of\nthe Madagascar ship, whose boat's crew had brought in the great oyster\nin which the pearl was found, and who had been examining the matter,\ncame and told me that it was true that their boat had brought in the\noyster, and that it was before they went out a dredging in the offing,\nbut that their boat took these oysters on the west side of the island,\nwhere they had been _shoring_, as they called it, that is to say,\ncoasting along the shore, to see if they could find anything worth their\nlabour, but that afterwards the boats went a dredging in the mouth of\nthe bay where we rode, and where, finding good store of oysters, they\nhad gone no farther.\nUpon this intelligence we ordered all hands to dredging again, on the\nwest side of the island. This was in a narrow channel, between this\nisland and a little cluster of islands which we found together extended\nwest, the channel where our men fished might be about a league over, or\nsomething better, and the water about five or seven fathoms deep.\nThey came home well tired and ill pleased, having taken nothing near so\nmany oysters, as before; but I was much better pleased, when, in opening\nthem, we found a hundred and fifty-eight pearls, of the most perfect\ncolour, and of extraordinary shape and size, besides double the number\nof a less size, and irregular shape.\nThis quickened our diligence, and encouraged our men, for I promised\nthe men two pieces of eight to each man above his pay, if I got any\nconsiderable quantity of pearl. Upon this they spread themselves among\nthe islands, and fished for a whole week, and I got such a quantity of\npearl as made it very well worth our while; and, besides that, I had\nreason to believe the men, at least the officers who went with them,\nconcealed a considerable quantity among themselves; which, however, I\ndid not think fit to inquire very strictly after at that time.\nHad we been nearer home, and not at so very great an expense, as three\nships, and so many men at victuals and wages, or had we been where we\nmight have left one of our vessels to fish, and have come to them again,\nwe would not have given it over while there had been an oyster left in\nthe sea, or, at least, that we could come at: but as things stood, I\nresolved to give it over, and put to sea.\nBut when I was just giving orders, Captain Merlotte came to me, and told\nme that all the officers in the three ships had joined together to make\nan humble petition to me, which was, that I would give them one day to\nfish for themselves; that the men had promised that, if I would consent,\nthey would work for them gratis; and likewise, if they gained anything\nconsiderable, they would account for as much out of their wages as\nshould defray the ships' expense, victuals, and wages, for the day.\nThis was so small a request, that I readily consented to it, and told\nthem I would give them three days, provided they were willing to give\nthe men a largess, as I had done, in proportion to their gain. This they\nagreed to, and to work they went; but whether it was that the fellows\nworked with a better will, or that the officers gave them more liquor,\nor that they found a new bank of oysters, which had not been found out\nbefore, but so it was, that the officers got as many pearls, and some of\nextraordinary size and beauty, as they afterwards sold, when they came\nto Peru, for three thousand two hundred and seventeen pieces of eight.\nWhen they had done this, I told them it was but right that, as they had\nmade so good a purchase for themselves by the labour of the men, the men\nshould have the consideration which I had proposed to them. But now I\nwould make another condition with them, that we would stay three days\nmore, and whatever was caught in these three days should be shared among\nthe men at the first port we came at, where they could be sold, that the\nmen who had now been out so long might have something to buy clothes and\nliquors, without anticipating their wages; but then I made a condition\nwith the men too, viz., that whatever was taken they should deposit it\nin my hands, and with the joint trust of three men of their own\nchoosing, one out of each ship, and that we would sell the pearl, and I\nshould divide the money among them equally, that so there might be no\nquarrelling or discontent, and that none of them should play any part of\nit away. These engagements they all came willingly into, and away they\nwent a dredging, relieving one another punctually, so that in the three\nwhole days every man worked an equal share of hours with the rest.\nBut the poor men had not so good luck for themselves as they had for\ntheir officers. However, they got a considerable quantity, and some very\nfine ones; among the rest they had two in the exact shape of a pear, and\nvery exactly matched; and these they would needs make me a present of,\nbecause I had been so kind to them to make the proposal for them. I\nwould have paid for them two hundred pieces of eight, but one and all,\nthey would not be paid, and would certainly have been very much troubled\nif I had not accepted of them. And yet the success of the men was not so\nsmall but, joined with the two pieces of eight a man which I allowed\nthem on the ships' account, and the like allowance the officers made\nthem, and the produce of their own purchase, they divided afterwards\nabout fifteen pieces of eight a man, which was a great encouragement to\nthem.\nThus we spent in the whole, near three weeks here, and called these the\nPearl Islands, though we had given no names to any of the places before.\nWe were the more surprised with this unexpected booty, because we all\nthought it very unusual to find pearl of so excellent a kind in such a\nlatitude as that of 49 to 50\u00b0; but it seems there are riches yet unknown\nin those parts of the world, where they have never been yet expected,\nand I have been told, by those who pretend to give a reason for it, that\nif there was any land directly under the poles, either south or north,\nthere would be found gold of a fineness more than double to any that was\never yet found in the world: and this is the reason, they say, why the\nmagnetic influence directs to the poles, that being the centre of the\nmost pure metals, and why the needle touched with the loadstone or\nmagnet always points to the north or south pole. But I do not recommend\nthis, as a certainty, because it is evident no demonstration could ever\nbe arrived at, nor could any creature reach to that particular spot of\nland under the pole, if such there should be, those lands being\nsurrounded with mountains of snow and frozen seas, which never thaw, and\nare utterly impassable either for ships or men.\nBut to return to our voyage; having thus spent as I have said, three\nweeks on this unexpected expedition, we set sail, and as I was almost\nsatisfied with the discoveries we had made, I was for bending my course\ndue east and so directly for the south part of America; but the winds\nnow blowing fresh from the north-west, and good weather, I took the\noccasion as a favourable summons, to keep still on southing as well as\neast till we came into the latitude of 56\u00b0, when our men, who had been\nall along a warm weather voyage, began to be pinched very much with the\ncold, and particularly complained that they had no clothes sufficient\nfor it.\nBut they were brought to be content by force; for the wind continuing at\nnorth and north-north-west, and blowing very hard, we were obliged to\nkeep on our course farther south, indeed, than I ever intended, and one\nof the men swore we should be driven to the south pole. Indeed, we\nrather ran afore it than kept our course, and in this run we suffered\nthe extremest cold, though a northerly wind in those latitudes is the\nwarm wind, as a southerly is here; but it was attended with rain and\nsnow, and both freezing violently. At length one of our men cried out,\nLand, and our men began to rejoice; but I was quite of a different\nopinion, and my fears were but too just, for as soon as ever he cried\nLand, and that I asked him in what quarter, and he answered due south,\nwhich was almost right ahead, I gave orders to wear the ship, and put\nher about immediately, not doubting but instead of land I should find it\na mountain of ice, and so it was; and it was happy for us that we had a\nstout ship under us, for it blew a fret of wind. However, the ship came\nvery well about, though when she filled again, we found the ice not half\na league distance under our stern.\nAs I happened to be the headmost ship, I fired two guns to give notice\nto our other vessels, for that was our signal to come about, but that\nwhich was very uneasy to me, the weather was hazy, and they were both\nout of sight; which was the first time that we lost one another in those\nseas; however, being both to windward, and within hearing of my guns,\nthey took the warning, and came about with more leisure and less hazard\nthan I had done.\nI stood away now to the eastward, firing guns continually, that they\nmight know which way to follow; and they answered me duly, to let me\nknow that they heard me.\nIt was our good fortune also, that it was day when we were so near\nrunning into this danger. In the afternoon the wind abated, and the\nweather cleared up; we then called a council, and resolved to go no\nfarther south, being then in the latitude of 67\u00b0 south, which I suppose\nis the farthest southern latitude that any European ship ever saw in\nthose seas.\nThat night it froze extremely hard, and the wind veering to the\nsouth-west, it was the severest cold that ever I felt in my life; a\nbarrel or cask of water, which stood on the deck, froze entirely in one\nnight into one lump, and our cooper, knocking off the hoops from the\ncask, took it to pieces, and the barrel of ice stood by itself, in the\ntrue shape of the vessel it had been in. This wind was, however,\nfavourable to our deliverance, for we stood away now north-east and\nnorth-east-by-north, making fresh way with a fair wind.\nWe made no more land till we came into the latitude of 62\u00b0, when we saw\nsome islands at a great distance, on both sides of us; we believed them\nto be islands, because we saw many of them with large openings between.\nBut we were all so willing to get into a warmer climate, that we did not\nincline to put in anywhere, till, having run thus fifteen days and the\nwind still holding southerly, with small alteration and clear weather,\nwe could easily perceive the climate to change, and the weather grow\nmilder. And here taking an observation, I found we were in the latitude\nof 50\u00b0 30', and that our meridian distance from the Ladrones west was\n87\u00b0, being almost one semi-diameter of the globe, so that we could not\nbe far from the coast of America, which was my next design, and indeed\nthe chief design of the whole voyage.\nOn this expectation I changed my course a little, and went away\nnorth-by-east, till by an observation I found myself in 47\u00b0 7', and then\nstanding away east for about eleven days more, we made the tops of the\nAndes, the great mountains of Chili, in South America, to our great joy\nand satisfaction, though at a very great distance.\nWe found our distance from the shore not less than twenty leagues, the\nmountains being so very high; and our next business was to consider what\npart of the Andes it must be, and to what port we should direct\nourselves first. Upon the whole, we found we were too much to the south\nstill, and resolved to make directly for the river or port of Valdivia,\nor Baldivia, as it is sometimes called, in the latitude of 40\u00b0; so we\nstood away to the north. The next day the pacific, quiet sea, as it is\ntermed, showed us a very frowning rough countenance, and proved the very\nextreme of a contrary disposition; for it blew a storm of wind at\neast-by-south, and drove us off the coast again, but it abated again for\na day or two; and then for six days together it blew excessive hard,\nalmost all at east, so that I found no possibility of getting into the\nshore; and besides, I found that the winds came off that mountainous\ncountry in squalls, and that the nearer we came to the hills the gusts\nwere the more violent. So I resolved to run for the island of Juan\nFernandez, to refresh ourselves there until the weather was settled; and\nbesides, we wanted fresh water very much.\nThe little that the wind stood southerly helped me in this run, and we\ncame in five days more, fair with the island, to our great joy, and\nbrought all our ships to an anchor as near the watering-place as is\nusual, where we rode easy, though, the wind continued to blow very hard;\nand being, I say, now about the middle of our voyage, I shall break off\nmy account here, as of the first part of my work, and begin again at our\ndeparture from hence.\nIt is true, we had got over much the greater run, as to length of way;\nbut the most important part of our voyage was yet to come, and we had no\ninconsiderable length to run neither, for as we purposed to sail north,\nthe height of Panama, in the latitude of 9\u00b0 north, and back again by\nCape Horn, in the latitude of, perhaps, 60\u00b0 south, and that we were now\nin 40\u00b0 south; those three added to the run, from Cape Horn home to\nEngland made a prodigious length, as will be seen by this following\naccount, in which also the meridian distances are not all reckoned,\nthough those also are very great.\nFrom Juan Fernandez to the Line                         30\nFrom Panama to Cape Horn, including the distance\nFrom Cape Horn to the Line again in the North Seas      60\nN.B. There must be deducted from this account the distance from Lima to\nPanama, because we did not go up to Panama, as we intended to do.\nBy this account we had almost 30\u00b0 to run more than a diameter of the\nglobe, besides our distance west, where we then were, from the meridian\nof England, whither we were to go; which, if exactly calculated, is\nabove 70\u00b0, take it from the island of Juan Fernandez.\nBut to return a little to our stay in this place, for that belongs to\nthis part of my account, and of which I must make a few short\nobservations.\nIt was scarce possible to restrain Englishmen, after so long beating the\nsea, from going on shore when they came to such a place of refreshment\nas this; nor indeed was it reasonable to restrain them, considering how\nwe all might be supposed to stand in need of refreshment, and\nconsidering that here was no length of ground for the men to wander in,\nno liquors to come at to distract them with their excess, and, which was\nstill more, no women to disorder or debauch them. We all knew their\nchief exercise would be hunting goats for their subsistence, and we knew\nalso, that, however they wanted the benefit of fresh provision, they\nmust work hard to catch it before they could taste the sweet of it. Upon\nthese considerations, I say, our ships being well moored, and riding\nsafe, we restrained none of them, except a proper number to take care of\neach ship; and those were taken out by lot, and then had their turn also\nto go on shore some days afterwards, and in the mean time had both fresh\nwater and fresh meat sent them immediately, and that in sufficient\nquantity to their satisfaction. As soon as we were on shore, and had\nlooked about us, we began first with getting some fresh water, for we\ngreatly wanted it. Then carrying a small cask of arrack on shore, I made\na quantity of it be put into a whole butt of water before I let our men\ndrink a drop; so correcting a little the chilness of the water, because\nI knew they would drink an immoderate quantity, and endanger their\nhealths, and the effect answered my care; for, those who drank at the\nspring where they took in the water, before I got this butt filled, and\nbefore the arrack was put into it, fell into swoonings and faint sweats,\nhaving gorged themselves too much with the cool water; and two or three\nI thought would have died, but our surgeons took such care of them, that\nthey recovered.\nWhile this was doing, others cut down branches of trees and built us two\nlarge booths, and five or six smaller, and we made two tents with some\nold sails; and thus we encamped, as if we had been to take up our\ndwelling, and intended to people the island.\nAt the same time, others of our men began to look out for goats, for it\nmay be believed we all longed for a meal of fresh meat. They were a\nlittle too hasty at their work at first, for firing among the first\ngoats they came at, when there were but a few men together, they\nfrighted all the creatures, and they ran all away into holes, and among\nthe rocks and places where we could not find them; so that for that day\nthey made little of it. However, sending for more firemen, they made a\nshift to bring in seventeen goats the same day, whereof we sent five on\nboard the ships, and feasted with the rest on shore. But the next day\nthe men went to work in another manner, and with better conduct; for as\nwe had hands enough, and fire-arms enough, they spread themselves so\nfar, that they, as it were, surrounded the creatures; and so driving\nthem out of their fastnesses and retreats, they had no occasion to\nshoot, for the goats could not get from them, and they took them\neverywhere with their hands, except some of the old he-goats, which were\nso surly, that they would stand at bay and rise at them, and would not\nbe taken; and these, as being old also, and as they thought, good for\nnothing, they let go.\nIn short, so many of our men went on shore, and these divided\nthemselves into so many little parties, and plyed their work so hard,\nand had such good luck, that I told them it looked as if they had made a\ngeneral massacre of the goats, rather than a hunting.\nOur men also might be said not to refresh themselves, but to feast\nthemselves here with fresh provisions; for though we stayed but thirteen\ndays, yet we killed three hundred and seventy goats, and our men who\nwere on board were very merrily employed, most assuredly, for they might\nbe said to do very little but roast and stew, and broil and fry, from\nmorning to night. It was indeed an exceeding good supply to them, for\nthey had been extremely fatigued with the last part of their voyage, and\nhad tasted of no fresh provisions for six weeks before.\nThis made them hunt the goats with the more eagerness, and indeed, they\nsurrounded them so dexterously, and followed them so nimbly, that\nnotwithstanding the difficulties of the rocks, yet the goats could\nhardly ever escape them. Here our men found also very good fish, and\nsome few tortoises, or turtles, as the seamen call them, but they valued\nthem not, when they had such plenty of venison; also they found some\nvery good herbs in the island, which they boiled with the goats' flesh,\nand which made their broth very savoury and comfortable, and withal very\nhealing, and good against the scurvy, which in those climates Englishmen\nare very subject to.\nWe were now come to the month of April, 1715, having spent almost eight\nmonths in this trafficking wandering voyage from Manilla hither. And\nwhoever shall follow the same, or a like track, if ever such a thing\nshall happen, will do well to make a year of it, and may find it very\nwell worth while.\nI doubt not but there are many undiscovered parts of land to the west,\nand to the south also, of the first shore, of which I mentioned, that we\nstayed trafficking for little bits of gold. And though it is true that\nsuch traffick, as I have given an account of, is very advantageous in\nitself, and worth while to look for, especially after having had a good\nmarket for an out-ward-bound European cargo, according to the pattern of\nours, at the Philippines, and which, by the way, they need not miss, I\nsay, as this trade for gold would be well worth while, so had we gone\nthe best way, and taken a course more to the south from Manilla, not\ngoing away east to the Ladrones, we should certainly have fallen in with\na country, from the coast of New Guinea, where we might have found\nplenty of spices, as well as of gold.\nFor why may we not be allowed to suppose that the country on the same\ncontinent, and in the same latitude, should produce the same growth?\nEspecially considering them situated, as it may be called, in the\nneighbourhood of one another.\nHad we then proceeded this way, no question but we might have fixed on\nsome place for a settlement, either English or French, whence a\ncorrespondence being established with Europe, either by Cape Horn east,\nor the Cape De Bona Esperance west, as we had thought fit, they might\nhave found as great a production of the nutmegs and the cloves as at\nBanda and Ternate, or have made those productions have been planted\nthere for the future, where no doubt they would grow and thrive as well\nas they do now in the Moluccas.\nBut we spun out too much time for the business we did; and though we\nmight, as above, discover new places, and get very well too, yet we did\nnothing in comparison of what we might be supposed to have done, had we\nmade the discovery more our business.\nI cannot doubt, also, but that when we stood away south it was too late;\nfor had we stood into the latitude of 67\u00b0 at first, as we did\nafterwards, I have good reason to believe that those islands which we\ncall the Moluccas, and which lie so thick and for so great an extent, go\non yet farther, and it is scarce to be imagined that they break off just\nwith Gilloto.\nThis I call a mistake in me, namely, that I stood away east from the\nPhilippines to the Ladrones, before I had gone any length to the south.\nBut to come to the course set down in this work, namely, south-east and\nby east from the Ladrones, the places I have taken notice of, as these\ndo not, in my opinion, appear to be inconsiderable and of no value, so\nhad we searched farther into them, I doubt not but there are greater\nthings to be discovered, and perhaps a much greater extent of land also.\nFor as I have but just, as it were, described the shell, having made no\nsearch for the kernel, it is more than probable, that within the country\nthere might be greater discoveries made, of immense value too. For\neven, as I observed several times, whenever we found any people who had\ngold, and asked them, as well as by signs we could make them understand,\nthey always pointed to the rivers and the mountains which lay farther up\nthe country, and which we never made any discovery of, having little in\nour view but the getting what little share of gold the poor people had\nabout them. Whereas had we taken possession of the place, and left a\nnumber of men sufficient to support themselves, in making a farther\nsearch, I cannot doubt but there must be a great deal of that of which\nthe inactive Indians had gotten but a little.\nNor had we one skilful man among us to view the face of the earth, and\nsee what treasure of choice vegetables might be there. We had indeed six\nvery good surgeons, and one of them, whom we took in among the\nMadagascar men, was a man of great reading and judgment; but he\nacknowledged he had no skill in botanics, having never made it his\nstudy.\nBut to say the truth, our doctors themselves (so we call the surgeons at\nsea) were so taken up in their traffick for gold, that they had no\nleisure to think of anything else. They did indeed pick up some shells,\nand some strange figured skeletons of fishes and small beasts, and other\nthings, which they esteemed as rarities; but they never went a simpling,\nas we call it, or to inquire what the earth brought forth that was rare,\nand not to be found anywhere else.\nI think, likewise, it is worth observing, how the people we met with,\nwhere it is probable no ships, much less European ships, had ever been,\nand where they had never conversed with enemies, or with nations\naccustomed to steal and plunder; I say, the people who lived thus, had\nno fire, no rage in their looks, no jealous fears of strangers doing\nthem harm, and consequently no desire to do harm to others. They had\nbows and arrows indeed, but it was rather to kill the deer and fowls,\nand to provide themselves with food, than to offend their enemies, for\nthey had none.\nWhen, therefore, removing from thence, we came to other and different\nnations, who were ravenous and mischievous, treacherous and fierce, we\nconcluded they had conversed with other nations, either by going to\nthem, or their vessels coming there. And to confirm me in this opinion,\nI found these fierce false Indians had canoes and boats, some of one\nkind, and some of another, by which perhaps, they conversed with the\nislands or other nations near them, and that they also received ships\nand vessels from other nations, by which they had several occasions to\nbe upon their guard, and learned the treacherous and cruel parts from\nothers which nature gave them no ideas of before.\nAs the natives of these places were tractable and courteous, so they\nwould be made easily subservient and assistant to any European nation\nthat would come to make settlements among them, especially if those\nEuropean nations treated them with humanity and courtesy; for I have\nmade it a general observation, concerning the natural disposition of all\nthe savage nations that ever I met with, that if they are once but\nreally obliged they will always be very faithful.\nBut it is our people, I mean the Europeans, who, by breaking faith with\nthem, teach them ingratitude, and inure them to treat their new comers\nwith breach of faith, and with cruelty and barbarity. If you once win\nthem by kindness, and doing them good, I mean at first, before they are\ntaught to be rogues by example, they will generally be honest, and be\nkind also, to the uttermost of their power.\nIt is to be observed, that it has been the opinion of all the sailors\nwho have navigated those parts of the world, that farther south there\nare great tracts of undiscovered land; and some have told us they have\nseen them, and have called them by such and such name, as, particularly,\nthe Isles of Solomon, of which yet we can read of nobody that ever went\non shore on them, or that could give any account of them, except such as\nare romantic, and not to be depended upon.\nBut what has been the reason why we have hitherto had nothing but\nguesses made at those things, and that all that has been said of such\nlands has been imperfect? The reason, if I may speak my opinion, has\nbeen, because it is such a prodigious run from the coast of America to\nthe islands of the Ladrones, that the few people who have performed it\nnever durst venture to go out of the way of the trade-winds, lest they\nshould not be able to subsist for want of water and provisions; and this\nis particularly the case in the voyage from the coast of America only.\nWhereas, to go the way which I have marked out, had we seen a necessity,\nand that there was no land to be found to the south of the tropic for a\nsupply of provisions and fresh water, it is evident we could have gone\nback again, from one place to another, and have been constantly\nsupplied; and this makes it certain also, that it cannot be reasonably\nundertaken by a ship going from the east, I mean the coast of America,\nto the west; but, from the west, viz., the Spice Islands to America\nwest, it may be adventured with ease, as I have shown.\nIt is true, that William Cornelius Van Schouten and Francis le Maire,\nwho first found the passage into the South Sea by Cape Horn, and not to\npass the Straits of Magellan, I say, they did keep to the southward of\nthe tropic, and pass in part the same way I have here given an account\nof, as by their journals, which I have by me at this time, is apparent.\nAnd it is as true also, that they did meet with many islands and unknown\nshores in those seas, where they got refreshment, especially fresh\nwater: perhaps some of the places were the same I have described in this\nvoyage, but why they never pursued that discovery, or marked those\nislands and places they got refreshments at, so that others in quest of\nbusiness might have touched at them and have received the like benefit,\nthat I can give no account of.\nI cannot help being of opinion, let our map makers place them where they\nwill, that those islands where we so successfully fished for oysters, or\nrather for pearl, are the same which the ancient geographers have called\nSolomon's Islands; and though they are so far south, the riches of them\nmay not be the less, nor are they more out of the way. On the contrary,\nthey lie directly in the track which our navigators would take, if they\nthought fit, either to go or come between Europe and the East Indies,\nseeing they that come about Cape Horn seldom go less south than the\nlatitude of 63 or 64\u00b0; and these islands, as I have said, lie in the\nlatitude of 40 to 48\u00b0 south, and extend themselves near one hundred and\nsixty leagues in breadth from north to south.\nWithout doubt those islands would make a very noble settlement, in order\nto victual and relieve the European merchants in so long a run as they\nhave to make; and when this trade came to be more frequented, the\ncalling of those ships there would enrich the islands, as the English at\nSt. Helena are enriched by the refreshing which the East India ships\nfind that meet there.\nBut to return to our present situation at Juan Fernandez. The\nrefreshment which our men found here greatly encouraged and revived\nthem; and the broths and stewings which we made of the goats' flesh\nwhich we killed there, than which nothing could be wholesomer, restored\nall our sick men, so that we lost but two men in our whole passage from\nthe East Indies, and had lost but eight men in our whole voyage from\nEngland, except I should reckon those five men and a boy to be lost\nwhich run away from us in the country among the Indians, as I have\nalready related.\nI should have added, that we careened and cleaned our ships here, and\nput ourselves into a posture for whatever adventures might happen; for\nas I resolved upon a trading voyage upon the coast of Chili and Peru,\nand a cruising voyage also, as it might happen, so I resolved also to\nput our ships into a condition for both, as occasion should present.\nOur men were nimble at this work, especially having been so well\nrefreshed and heartened up by their extraordinary supply of fresh meats,\nand the additions of good broths and soups which they fed on every day\nin the island, and with which they were supplied without any manner of\nlimitation all the time they were at work.\nThis I say being their case, they got the Madagascar ship hauled down,\nand her bottom washed and tallowed, and she was as clean as when she\nfirst came off the stocks in five days' time: and she was rigged, and\nall set to rights, and fit for sailing in two more.\nThe great ship was not so soon fitted, nor was I in so much haste, for I\nhad a design in my head which I had not yet communicated to anybody, and\nthat was to send the Madagascar ship a-cruising as soon as she was\nfitted up; accordingly, I say, the fifth day she was ready, and I\nmanaged it so that the captain of the Madagascar ship openly, before all\nthe men, made the motion, as if it had been his own project, and desired\nI would let him go and try his fortune, as he called it.\nI seemed unwilling at first, but he added to his importunity, that he\nand all his crew were desirous, if they made any purchase, it should be\ndivided among all the crews in shares, according as they were shipped;\nthat if it was provisions, the captain should buy it at half price, for\nthe use of the whole, and the money to be shared.\nUpon hearing his proposals, which were esteemed very just, and the men\nall agreeing, I gave consent, and so he had my orders and instructions,\nand leave to be out twelve days on his cruise, and away he went. His\nship was an excellent sailer, as has been said, and being now a very\nclean vessel, I thought he might speak with any other, or get away from\nher if he pleased; by the way, I ordered him to put out none but French\ncolours.\nHe cruised a week without seeing a sail, and stood in quite to the\nSpanish shore in one place, but in that he was wrong. The eighth day,\ngiving over all expectations, he stood off again to sea, and the next\nmorning he spied a sail, which proved to be a large Spanish ship, and\nthat seemed to stand down directly upon him, which a little checked his\nforwardness; however, he kept on his course, when the Spaniard seeing\nhim plainer than probably he had done at first, tacked, and crowding all\nthe sail he could carry, stood in for the shore.\nThe Spaniard was a good sailer, but our ship plainly gained upon her,\nand in the evening came almost up with her; when he saw the land, though\nat a great distance, he was loath to be seen chasing her from the shore;\nhowever, he followed, and night coming on, the Spaniard changed his\ncourse, thinking to get away, but as the moon was just rising, our men,\nwho resolved to keep her in sight, if possible, perceived her, and\nstretched after her with all the canvass they could lay on.\nThis chase held till about midnight, when our ship coming up with her,\ntook her after a little dispute. They pretended, at first, to have\nnothing on board but timber, which they were carrying, as they said, to\nsome port for the building of ships; but our men had the secret to make\nthe Spaniards confess their treasure, if they had any, so that after\nsome hard words with the Spanish commander, he confessed he had some\nmoney on board, which, on our men's promise of good usage, he afterwards\nvery honestly delivered, and which might amount to about sixteen\nthousand pieces of eight.\nBut he had what we were very glad of besides, viz., about two hundred\ngreat jars of very good wheat flour, a large quantity of oil, and some\ncasks of sweetmeats, all which was to us very good prize.\nBut now our difficulty was, what we should do with the ship, and with\nthe Spaniards; and this was so real a difficulty that I began to wish he\nhad not taken her, lest her being suffered to go, she should alarm the\ncountry, or if detained, discover us all.\nIt was not above one day beyond his orders that we had the pleasure of\nseeing the captain of the Madagascar come into the road, with his prize\nin tow, and the flour and oil was a very good booty to us; but upon\nsecond and better thoughts, we brought the Spaniards to a fair treaty,\nand, which was more difficult, brought all our men to consent to it. The\ncase was this. Knowing what I proposed to myself to do, namely, to trade\nall the way up the Spanish coast, and to pass for French ships, I knew\nthe taking this Spanish ship would betray us all, unless I resolved to\nsink the ship and murder all the men; so I came to a resolution of\ntalking with the Spanish captain, and making terms with him, which I\nsoon made him very glad to accept of.\nFirst, I pretended to be angry with the captain of the Madagascar ship,\nand ordered him to be put under confinement, for having made a prize of\nhis catholic majesty's subjects, we being subjects to the king of\nFrance, who was in perfect peace with the king of Spain.\nThen I told him that I would restore him his ship and all his money, and\nas to his flour and oil, which the men had fallen greedily upon, having\na want of it, I would pay him the full value in money for it all, and\nfor any other loss he had sustained, only that I would oblige him to lie\nin the road at the island where we were, till we returned from our\nvoyage to Lima, whither we were going to trade, for which lying I also\nagreed to pay him demurrage for his ship, after the rate of eight\nhundred pieces of eight per month, and if I returned not in four months,\nhe was to be at his liberty to go.\nThe captain, who thought himself a prisoner and undone, readily embraced\nthis offer; and so we secured his ship till our return, and there we\nfound him very honestly at an anchor, of which I shall give a farther\naccount in its place.\nWe were now, as I have said, much about the middle of our voyage, at\nleast as I had intended it; and having stored ourselves with every thing\nthe place afforded, we got ready to proceed, for we had, as it were,\ndwelt here near a fortnight.\nBy this time the weather was good again, and we stood away to the\nsouth-east for the port of Baldivia, as above, and reached to the\nmouth, of the harbour in twelve days' sail.\nI was now to change faces again, and Captain Merlotte appeared as\ncaptain, all things being transacted in his name, and French captains\nwere put into the brigantine, and into the Madagascar ship also. The\nfirst thing the captain did was to send a civil message to the Spanish\ngovernor, to acquaint him, that being come into those seas as friends,\nunder his most Christian majesty's commission, and with the king of\nSpain's permission, we desired to be treated as allies, and to be\nallowed to take water and wood, and to buy such refreshments as we\nwanted, for which we would pay ready money; also we carried French\ncolours, but took not the least notice of our intention to trade with\nthem.\nWe received a very civil answer from the governor, viz., That being the\nking of France's subjects, and that they were in alliance with us, we\nwere very welcome to wood and water, and any provision the place would\nafford, and that our persons should be safe, and in perfect liberty to\ngo on shore; but that he could not allow any of our men to lie on shore,\nit being express in his orders that he should not permit any nation not\nactually in commission from the king of Spain to come on shore and stay\nthere, not even one night; and that this was done to prevent disorders.\nWe answered, that we were content with that order, seeing we did not\ndesire our men should go on shore to stay there, we not being able to\nanswer for any misbehaviour, which was frequent among seamen.\nWhile we continued here, several Spaniards came on board and visited us,\nand we often went on shore on the same pretence; but our supercargo, who\nunderstood his business too well not to make use of the occasion,\npresently let the Spaniards see that he had a great cargo of goods to\ndispose of; they as freely took the hint, and let him know that they had\nmoney enough to pay for whatever they bought; so they fell to work, and\nthey bought East India and China silks, Japan ware, China ware, spice,\nand something of everything we had. We knew we should not sell all our\ncargo here; nor any extraordinary quantity; but we knew, on the other\nhand, that, what we did sell here, we should sell for 100_l._ per cent.\nextraordinary, I mean more than we should sell for at Lima, or any other\nports on that side, and so we did; for here we sold a bottle of arrack\nfor four pieces of eight, a pound of cloves for five pieces of eight,\nand a pound of nutmegs for six pieces of eight; and the like of other\nthings.\nThey would gladly have purchased some European goods, and especially\nEnglish cloth and baize; but as we had indeed very few such things left,\nso we were not willing they should see them, that they might not have\nany suspicion of our being Englishmen, and English ships, which would\nsoon have put an end to all our commerce.\nWhile we lay here trafficking with the Spaniards, I set some of my men\nto work to converse among the native Chilians, or Indians, as we call\nthem, of the country, and several things they learned of them, according\nto the instructions which I gave them; for example, first, I understood\nby them that the country people, who do not live among the Spaniards,\nhave a mortal aversion to them; that it is rivetted in their minds by\ntradition from father to son, ever since the wars which had formerly\nbeen among them, and that though they did not now carry on those wars,\nyet the animosity remained; and the pride and cruel haughty temper of\nthe Spaniards were such still to those of the country people who came\nunder their government, as make that aversion continually increase. They\nlet us know, that if any nation in the world would but come in and\nassist them against the Spaniards, and support them in their rising\nagainst them, they would soon rid their hands of the whole nation. This\nwas to the purpose exactly, as to what I wanted to know.\nI then ordered particular inquiry to be made, whether the mountains of\nAndes, which are indeed prodigious to look at, and so frightful for\ntheir height, that it is not to be thought of without some horror, were\nin any places passable? what country there was beyond them? and whether\nany of their people had gone, over and knew the passages?\nThe Indians concurred with the Spaniards in this (for our men inquired\nof both), that though the Andes were to be supposed, indeed, to be the\nhighest mountains in the world, and that, generally speaking, they were\nimpassable, yet that there had been passages found by the vales among\nthe mountains; where, with fetching several compasses and windings\npartly on the hills, and partly in the valleys, men went with a great\ndeal of ease and safety quite through or over, call it as we will, to\nthe other, named the east side, and as often returned again.\nSome of the more knowing Indians or Chilians went farther than this, and\nwhen our men inquired after the manners, situation, and produce of the\ncountry on the other side, they told them, that when they passed the\nmountains from that part of the country, they went chiefly to fetch\ncattle and kill deer, of which there were great numbers in that part of\nthe land; but that when they went from St. Jago they turned away north\nsome leagues, when they came to a town called St. Anthonio de los Vejos,\nor, the town of St. Anthony and the Old Men; that there was a great\nriver at that city, from whence they found means to go down to the Rio\nde la Plata, and so to the Buenos Ayres, and that they frequently\ncarried thither great sums of money in Chilian gold, and brought back\nEuropean goods from thence.\nI had all I wanted now, and bade my men say no more to them on that\nsubject, and only to tell them, that they would come back and travel a\nlittle that way to see the country. The people appeared very well\npleased with this intelligence, and answered, that if they would do so,\nthey should find some, as well Spaniards as Chilians, who would be\nguides to them through the hills; also assuring them, that they would\nfind the hills very practicable, and the people as they went along very\nready to assist and furnish them with whatever they found they wanted,\nespecially if they come to know that they were not Spaniards, or that\nthey would protect them from the Spaniards, which would be the most\nagreeable thing to them in the world; for it seems many of the nations\nof the Chilians had been driven to live among the hills, and some even\nbeyond them, to avoid the cruelty and tyranny of the Spaniards,\nespecially in the beginning of their planting in that country.\nThe next inquiry I ordered them to make was, whether it was possible to\npass those hills with horses or mules, or any kind of carriages? and\nthey assured them, they might travel with mules, and even with horses\nalso, but rather with mules; but as to carriages, such as carts or\nwaggons, they allowed that was not practicable. They assured us, that\nsome of those ways through the hills were much frequented, and that\nthere were towns, or villages rather, of people to be found in the\nvalleys between the said hills; some of which villages were very large,\nand the soil very rich and fruitful, bearing sufficient provisions for\nthe inhabitants, who were very numerous. They added, that the people\nwere not much inclined to live in towns as the Spaniards do, but that\nthey lived scattered up and down the country, as they were guided by the\ngoodness of the land; that they lived very secure and unguarded, never\noffering any injury to one another, nor fearing injury from any but the\nSpaniards.\nI caused these inquiries to be made with the utmost prudence and\ncaution, so that the Spaniards had not the least suspicion of our\ndesign; and thus, having finished our traffick, and taken in water and\nprovisions, we sailed from Baldivia, having settled a little\ncorrespondence there with two Spaniards, who were very faithful to us,\nand with two Chilian Indians, whom we had in a particular manner\nengaged, and whom, to make sure of, we took along with us; and having\nspent about thirteen days here, and taken the value of about six\nthousand pieces of eight in silver and gold, but most of it in gold, we\nset sail.\nOur next port was the Bay of the Conception; here, having two or three\nmen on board who were well acquainted with the coast, we ran boldly into\nthe bay, and came to an anchor in that which they call the Bite, or\nlittle bay, under the island Quinquina; and from thence we sent our\nboat, with French mariners to row, and a French cockswain, with a letter\nto the Spanish governor, from Captain Merlotte. Our pretence was always\nthe same as before, that we had his most Christian majesty's commission,\n&c., and that we desired liberty to wood and water, and to buy\nprovisions, having been a very long voyage, and the like.\nUnder these pretences, we lay here about ten days, and drove a very\nconsiderable trade for such goods as we were sure they wanted; and\nhaving taken about the value of eight thousand pieces of eight, we set\nsail for the port or river that goes up to St. Jago, where we expected a\nvery good market, being distant from the Conception about sixty-five\nleagues.\nSt. Jago is the capital city of Chili, and stands twelve leagues within\nthe land; there are two ports, which are made use of to carry on the\ntraffic of this place, viz., R. de Ropocalmo, and port de Valparaiso. We\nwere bound to the last, as being the only port for ships of burden, and\nwhere there is security from bad weather.\nWe found means here, without going up to the city of St. Jago, to have\nmerchants enough to come down to us; for this being a very rich city,\nand full of money, we found all our valuable silks of China, our\natlases, China damasks, satins, &c., were very much valued, and very\nmuch wanted, and no price was too high for us to ask for them. For, in a\nword, the Spanish ladies, who, for pride, do not come behind any in the\nworld, whatever they do for beauty, were so eager for those fine things,\nthat almost any reasonable quantity might have been sold there; but the\ntruth is, we had an unreasonable quantity, and therefore, as we had\nother markets to go to, we did not let them know what a great stock of\ngoods we had, but took care they had something of everything they\nwanted. We likewise found our spices were an excellent commodity in\nthose parts, and sold for a great profit too, as indeed everything else\ndid, as is said above.\nWe found it very easy to sell here to the value of one hundred and\nthirty thousand pieces of eight, in all sorts of China and East-India\ngoods; for still, though we had some of the English cargo loose, we let\nnone of it be seen. We took most of the money in gold uncoined, which is\ngot out of the mountains in great quantities, and of which we shall have\noccasion to speak more hereafter.\nOur next trading port was Coquimbo, a small town but a good port. Here\nwe went in without ceremony, and upon the same foot, of being French, we\nwere well received, traded underhand with the Spanish merchants, and got\nletters to some other merchants at Guasco, a port in a little bay about\nfifteen leagues north from Coquimbo.\nFrom hence to the port of Copiapo, is twenty-five leagues. Here we found\na very good port, though no trading town or city; but the country being\nwell inhabited, we found means to acquaint some of the principal\nSpaniards in the country of what we were, and (with which they were\npleased well enough) that they might trade with us for such things,\nwhich it was easy to see they gave double price for to the merchants who\ncame from Lima, and other places. This brought them to us with so much\neagerness, that though they bought for their own use, not for sale, yet\nthey came furnished with orders, perhaps for two or three families\ntogether, and being generally rich, would frequently lay out six hundred\nor eight hundred pieces of eight a man; so that we had a most excellent\nmarket here, and took above thirty thousand pieces of eight; that is to\nsay, the value of it, for they still paid all in gold.\nHere we had opportunity to get a quantity of good flour, or wheat meal,\nof very good European wheat, that is to say, of that sort of wheat; and\nwithal, had good biscuit baked on shore, so that now we got a large\nrecruit of bread, and our men began to make puddings, and lived very\ncomfortably. We likewise got good sugar at the ingenioes, or\nsugar-mills, of which there were several here, and the farther north we\nwent their number increased, for we were now in the latitude of 28\u00b0 2'\nsouth.\nWe had but one port now of any consequence that we intended to touch at,\nuntil we came to the main place we aimed at, which was Lima, and this\nwas about two-thirds of the way thither; I mean Porto Rica, or Arica,\nwhich is in the latitude of 18\u00b0 of thereabouts. The people were very shy\nof us here, as having been much upon their guard for some years past,\nfor fear of buccaneers and English privateers: but when they understood\nwe were French, and our French captain sent two recommendations to them\nfrom a merchant at St. Jago, they were then very well satisfied, and we\nhad full freedom of commerce here also.\nFrom hence we came the height of Lima, the capital port, if not the\ncapital city, of Peru, lying in the latitude of 12\u00b0 30'. Had we made the\nleast pretence of trading here, we should, at least, have had soldiers\nput on board our ships to have prevented it, and the people would have\nbeen forbidden to trade with us upon pain of death. But Captain Merlotte\nhaving brought letters to a principal merchant of Lima, he instructed\nhim how to manage himself at his first coming into that port; which was\nto ride without the town of Callao, out of the command of the puntals or\ncastles there, and not to come any nearer, upon what occasion soever,\nand then to leave the rest to him.\nUpon this, the merchant applied himself to the governor for leave to go\non board the French ship at Callao; but the governor understood him, and\nwould not grant it by any means. The reason was, because there had been\nsuch a general complaint by the merchants from Carthagena, Porto Bello,\nand other places, of the great trade carried on here with French ships\nfrom Europe, to the destruction of the merchants, and to the ruin of\nthe trade of the galleons, that the governor, or viceroy of Peru, had\nforbid the French ships landing any goods.\nNow, though this made our traffick impracticable at Lima itself, yet it\ndid by no means hinder the merchants trading with us under cover, &c.,\nbut especially when they came to understand that we were not loaden from\nEurope with baize, long ells, druggets, broadcloth, serges, stuffs,\nstockings, hats, and such like woollen manufactures of France, England,\n&c.; but that our cargo was the same with that of the Manilla ships at\nAcapulca, and that we were loaden with calicoes, muslins, fine-wrought\nChina silks, damasks, Japan wares, China wares, spices, &c., there was\nthen no withholding them: but they came on board us in the night with\ncanoes, and, staying all day, went on shore again in the night, carrying\ntheir goods to different places, where they knew they could convey them\non shore without difficulty.\nIn this manner we traded publicly enough, not much unlike the manner of\nour trade at the Manillas; and here we effectually cleared ourselves of\nour whole cargo, as well English goods as Indian, to an immense sum.\nHere our men, officers as well as seamen, sold their fine pearl,\nparticularly one large parcel, containing one hundred and seventy-three\nvery fine pearls, but of different sizes, which a priest bought, as we\nare told, to dress up the image of the blessed Virgin Mary in one of\ntheir churches.\nIn a word, we came to a balance here, for we sold everything that we had\nthe least intention to part with; the chief things we kept in reserve,\nwere some bales of English goods, also all the remainder of our beads\nand bugles, toys, ironwork, knives, scissors, hatchets, needles, pins,\nglass-ware, and such things as we knew the Spaniards did not regard, and\nwhich might be useful in our farther designs, of which my head was yet\nvery full. Those, I say, we kept still.\nHere, likewise, we sold our brigantine, which, though an excellent\nsea-boat, as may well be supposed, considering the long voyage we had\nmade in her, was yet so worm-eaten in her bottom, that, unless we would\nhave new sheathed her, and perhaps shifted most of her planks too, which\nwould have taken up a great deal of time, she was by no means fit to\nhave gone any farther, at least not so long a run as we had now to make,\nviz., round the whole southern part of America, and where we should\nfind no port to put in at, (I mean, where we should have been able to\nhave got anything done for the repair of a ship), until we had come home\nto England.\nIt was proposed here to have gone to the governor or viceroy of Peru,\nand have obtained his license or pass to have traversed the Isthmus of\nAmerica, from port St. Maria to the river of Darien. This we could\neasily have obtained under the character that we then bore, viz., of\nhaving the King of France's commission; and had we been really all\nFrench, I believe I should have done it, but as we were so many\nEnglishmen, and as such were then at open war with Spain, I did not\nthink it a safe adventure, I mean not a rational adventure, especially\nconsidering what a considerable treasure we had with us.\nOn the other hand, as we were now a strong body of able seamen, and had\ntwo stout ships under us, we had no reason to apprehend either the toil\nor the danger of a voyage round Cape Horn, after which we should be in a\nvery good condition to make the rest of our voyage to England. Whereas,\nif we travelled over the Isthmus of America, we should be all like a\ncompany of freebooters and buccaneers, loose and unshipped, and should\nperhaps run some one way and some another, among the logwood cutters at\nthe bay of Campeachy, and other places, to get passage, some to Jamaica\nand some to New England; and, which was worse than all, should be\nexposed to a thousand dangers on account of the treasure we had with us,\nperhaps even to that of murdering and robbing one another. And, as\nCaptain Merlotte said, who was really a Frenchman, it were much more\neligible for us, as French, or, if we had been such, to have gone up to\nAcapulca, and there to sell our ships and get license to travel to\nMexico, and then to have got the viceroy's assiento to have come to\nEurope in the galleons; but, as we were so many Englishmen, it was\nimpracticable; our seamen also being Protestants, such as seamen\ngenerally are, and bold mad fellows, they would never have carried on a\ndisguise, both of their nation and of their religion, for so long a time\nas it would have been necessary to do for such a journey and voyage.\nBut, besides all these difficulties, I had other projects in my head,\nwhich made me against all the proposals of passing by land to the North\nSea; otherwise, had I resolved it, I should not have much concerned\nmyself about obtaining a license from the Spaniards, for, as we were a\nsufficient number of men to have forced our way, we should not much have\nstood upon their giving us leave, or not giving us leave, to go.\nBut, as I have said, my views lay another way, and my head had been long\nworking upon the discourse my men had had with the Spaniards at\nBaldavia. I frequently talked with the two Chilian Indians whom I had on\nboard, and who spoke Spanish pretty well, and whom we had taught to\nspeak a little English.\nI had taken care that they should have all the good usage imaginable on\nboard. I had given them each a very good suit of clothes made by our\ntailor, but after their own manner, with each of them a baize cloak; and\nhad given them hats, shoes, stockings, and everything they desired, and\nthey were mighty well pleased, and I talked very freely with them about\nthe passage of the mountains, for that was now my grand design.\nWhile I was coming up the Chilian shore, as you have heard, that is to\nsay, at St. Jago, at the Conception, at Arica, and even at Lima itself,\nwe inquired on all occasions into the situation of the country, the\nmanner of travelling, and what kind of country it was beyond the\nmountains, and we found them all agreeing in the same story; and that\npassing the mountains of Les Cordelieras, for so they call them in Peru,\nthough it was the same ridge of hills as we call the Andes, was no\nstrange thing. That there were not one or two, but a great many places\nfound out, where they passed as well with horses and mules as on foot,\nand even some with carriages; and, in particular, they told us at Lima,\nthat from Potosi, and the towns thereabouts, there was a long valley,\nwhich ran for one hundred and sixty leagues in length southward, and\nsouth-east, and that it continued until the hills parting, it opened\ninto the main level country on the other side; and that there were\nseveral rivers which began in that great valley, and which all of them\nran away to the south and south-east, and afterwards went away east, and\neast-north-east, and so fell into the great Rio de la Plata, and emptied\nthemselves into the North Seas; and that merchants travelled to those\nrivers, and then went down in boats as far as the town or the city of\nthe Ascension, and the Buenos Ayres.\nThis was very satisfying you may be sure, especially to hear them agree\nin it, that the Andes were to be passed; though passing them hereabouts,\n(where I knew the mainland from the west shore, where we now were, must\nbe at least one thousand five hundred miles broad), was no part of my\nproject; but I laid up all these things in my mind, and resolved to go\naway to the south again, and act as I should see cause.\nWe were now got into a very hot climate, and, whatever was the cause, my\nmen began to grow very sickly, and that to such a degree that I was once\nafraid we had got the plague among us; but our surgeons, who we all call\ndoctors at sea, assured me there was nothing of that among them, and yet\nwe buried seventeen men here, and had between twenty and thirty more\nsick, and, as I thought, dangerously too.\nIn this extremity, for I was really very much concerned about it, one of\nmy doctors came to me, and told me he had been at the city (that is, at\nLima) to buy some drugs and medicines, to recruit his chest, and he had\nfallen into company with an Irish Jesuit, who, he found, was an\nextraordinary good physician, and that he had had some discourse with\nhim about our sick men, and he believed for a good word or two, he could\npersuade him to come and visit them.\nI was very loath to consent to it, and said to the surgeon, If he is an\nIrishman, he speaks English, and he will presently perceive that we are\nall Englishmen, and so we shall be betrayed; all our designs will be\nblown up at once, and our farther measures be all broken; and therefore\nI would not consent. This I did not speak from the fear of any hurt they\ncould have done me by force, for I had no reason to value that, being\nable to have fought my way clear out of their seas, if I had been put to\nit; but, as I had traded all the way by stratagem, and had many\nconsiderable views still behind, I was unwilling to be disappointed by\nthe discovery of my schemes, or that the Spaniards should know upon what\na double foundation I acted, and how I was a French ally and merchant,\nor an English enemy and privateer, just as I pleased, and as opportunity\nshould offer; in which case they would have been sure to have trepanned\nme if possible, under pretence of the former, and have used me, if they\never should get an advantage over me, as one of the latter.\nThis made me very cautious, and I had good reason for it too; and yet\nthe sickness and danger of my men pressed me very hard to have the\nadvice of a good physician, if it was possible, and especially to be\nsatisfied whether it was really the plague or no, for I was very uneasy\nabout that.\nBut my surgeon told me, that, as to my apprehension of discovery, he\nwould undertake to prevent it by this method. First, he said, he found\nthat the Irishman did not understand French at all, and so I had nothing\nto do but to order, that, when he came on board, as little English\nshould be spoke in his hearing as possible; and this was not difficult,\nfor almost all our men had a little French at their tongue's end, by\nhaving so many Frenchmen on board of them; others had the Levant jargon,\nwhich they call Lingua Frank; so that, if they had but due caution, it\ncould not be suddenly perceived what countrymen they were.\nBesides this, the surgeon ordered, that as soon as the Padre came on\nboard, he should be surrounded with French seamen only, some of whom\nshould be ordered to follow him from place to place, and chop in with\ntheir nimble tongues, upon some occasion or other, so that he should\nhear French spoken wherever he turned himself.\nUpon this, which indeed appeared very easy to be done, I agreed to let\nthe doctor come on board, and accordingly the surgeon brought him the\nnext day, where Captain Merlotte received him in the cabin, and treated\nhim very handsomely, but nothing was spoken but French or Spanish; and\nthe surgeon, who had pretended himself to be an Irishman, acted as\ninterpreter between the doctor and us.\nHere we told him the case of our men that were sick; some of them,\nindeed, were French, and others that could speak French, were instructed\nto speak to him as if they could speak no other tongue, and those the\nsurgeon interpreted; others, who were English, were called Irishmen, and\ntwo or three were allowed to be English seamen picked up in the East\nIndies, as we had seamen, we told him, of all nations.\nThe matter, in short, was so carried that the good man, for such I\nreally think he was, had no manner of suspicion; and, to do him justice,\nhe was an admirable physician, and did our men a great deal of good; for\nall of them, excepting three, recovered under his hands, and those three\nhad recovered if they had not, like madmen, drank large quantities of\npunch when they were almost well; and, by their intemperance, inflamed\ntheir blood, and thereby thrown themselves back again into their fever,\nand put themselves, as the Padre said of them, out of the reach of\nmedicine.\nWe treated this man of art with a great deal of respect, made him some\nvery handsome presents, and particularly such as he could not come at in\nthe country where he was; besides which, I ordered he should have the\nvalue of one hundred dollars in gold given him; but he, on the other\nhand, thanking Captain Merlotte for his bounty, would have no money, but\nhe accepted a present of some linen, a few handkerchiefs, some nutmegs,\nand a piece of black baize: most of which, however, he afterwards said,\nhe made presents of again in the city, among some of his acquaintance.\nBut he had a farther design in his head, which, on a future day, he\ncommunicated in confidence to the surgeon I have mentioned, who\nconversed with him, and by him to me, and which was to him, indeed, of\nthe highest importance. The case was this.\nHe took our surgeon on shore with him one day from the Madagascar ship,\nwhere he had been with him to visit some of our sick men, and, drinking\na glass of wine with him, he told him he had a favour to ask of him, and\na thing to reveal to him in confidence, which was of the utmost\nconsequence to himself though of no great value to him, (the surgeon),\nand, if he would promise the utmost secrecy to him, on his faith and\nhonour, he would put his life into his hands. For, seignior, said he, it\nwill be no other, nor would anything less than my life pay for it, if\nyou should discover it to any of the people here, or anywhere else on\nthis coast.\nThe surgeon was a very honest man, and carried indeed the index of it in\nhis face; and the Padre said afterwards, he inclined to put this\nconfidence in him because he thought he saw something of an honest man\nin his very countenance. After so frank a beginning, the surgeon made no\nscruple to tell him, that, seeing he inclined to treat him with such\nconfidence, and to put a trust of so great importance in him, he would\ngive him all the assurance in his power that he would be as faithful to\nhim as it was possible to be to himself, and that the secret should\nnever go out of his mouth to any one in the world, but to such and at\nsuch time as he should consent to and direct. In short, he used so many\nsolemn protestations, that the Padre made no scruple to trust him with\nthe secret, which, indeed, was no less than putting his life into his\nhands. The case was this.\nHe told him he had heard them talk of going to Ireland in their return,\nand, as he had been thirty years out of his own country, in such a\nremote part of the world, where it was never likely that he should ever\nsee it again, the notion he had entertained that this ship was going\nthither, and might set him on shore there, that he might once more see\nhis native country, and his family and friends, had filled his mind with\nsuch a surprising joy, that he could no longer contain himself; and\nthat, therefore, if he would procure leave of the captain that he might\ncome privately on board and take his passage home, he would willingly\npay whatever the captain should desire of him, but that it must be done\nwith the greatest secrecy imaginable, or else he was ruined; for that,\nif he should be discovered and stopped, he should be confined in the\nJesuit's house there as long as he lived, without hope of redemption.\nThe surgeon told him the thing was easy to be done if he would give him\nleave to acquaint one man in the ship with it, which was not Captain\nMerlotte, but a certain Englishman, who was a considerable person in the\nship, without whom the captain did nothing, and who would be more secure\nto trust, by far, than Captain Merlotte. The Padre told him, that,\nwithout asking him for any reasons, since he had put his life and\nliberty in his hands, he would trust him with the management of the\nwhole, in whatever way he chose to conduct it.\nThe surgeon accordingly brought him on board to me, and making a\nconfidence of the whole matter to me, I turned to the Padre, and told\nhim in English, giving him my hand, that I would be under all the\nengagements and promises of secrecy that our surgeon had been in, for\nhis security and satisfaction; that he had merited too well of us to\nwish him any ill, and, in short, that the whole ship should be engaged\nfor his security. That, as to his coming on board and bringing anything\noff that belonged to him, he must take his own measures, and answer to\nhimself for the success; but that, after he was on board, we would sink\nthe ship under him, or blow her aloft in the air, before we would\ndeliver him up on any account whatever.\nHe was so pleased with my frank way of talking to him, that he told me\nhe would put his life into my hands with the same freedom as he had done\nbefore with my surgeon; so we began to concert measures for his coming\non board with secrecy.\nHe told us there was no need of any proposals, for he would acquaint the\nhead of the house that he intended to go on board the French ship in the\nroad, and to go to St. Jago, where he had several times been in the same\nmanner; and that, as they had not the least suspicion of him, he was\nvery well satisfied that they would make no scruple of it.\nBut his mistake in this might have been his ruin; for though, had it\nbeen a Spanish ship, they would not have mistrusted him, yet, when he\nnamed the French ship in the road of Callao, they began to question him\nvery smartly about it. Upon which, he was obliged to tell them, that,\nsince they were doubtful of him, he would not go at all, telling them\nwithal, that it was hard to suspect him, who had been so faithful to his\nvows, as to reside for near thirty years among them, when he might\nfrequently have made an escape from them, if he had been so disposed.\nSo, for three or four days, he made no appearance of going at all; but\nhaving had private notice from me the evening before we sailed, he found\nmeans to get out of their hands, came down to Callao on a mule in the\nnight, and our surgeon, lying ready with our boat about half a league\nfrom the town, as by appointment, took him on board, with a negro, his\nservant, and brought him safe to the ship; nor had we received him on\nboard half an hour, but, being unmoored and ready to sail, we put out to\nsea, and carried him clear off.\nHe made his excuses to me that he was come away naked, according to his\nprofession; that he had purposed to have furnished himself with some\nprovisions for the voyage, but that the unexpected suspicions of the\nhead of their college, or house, had obliged him to come away in a\nmanner that would not admit of it; for that he might rather be said to\nhave made his escape than to have come fairly off.\nI told him he was very welcome (and indeed so he was, for he had been\nalready more worth to us than ten times his passage came to), and that\nhe should be entered into immediate pay, as physician to both the ships,\nwhich I was sure none of our surgeons would repine at, but rather be\nglad of; and accordingly I immediately ordered him a cabin, with a very\ngood apartment adjoining to it, and appointed him to eat in my own mess\nwhenever he pleased, or by himself, on his particular days, when he\nthought proper.\nAnd now it was impossible to conceal from him that we were indeed an\nEnglish ship, and that I was the captain in chief, except, as has been\nsaid, upon occasion of coming to any particular town of Spain. I let him\nknow I had a commission to make prize of the Spaniards, and appear their\nopen enemy, but that I had chosen to treat them as friends, in a way of\ncommerce, as he had seen. He admired much the moderation I had used, and\nhow I had avoided enriching myself with the spoil, as I might have done;\nand he made me many compliments upon that head, which I excused hearing,\nand begged him to forbear. I told him we were Christians, and as we had\nmade a very prosperous voyage, I was resolved not to do any honest man\nthe least injustice, if I could avoid it.\nBut I must observe here, that I did not enter immediately into all this\nconfidence with him neither, nor all at once; neither did I let him into\nany part of it, but under the same solemn engagements of secrecy that he\nhad laid upon us, nor till I was come above eighty leagues south from\nLima.\nThe first thing I took the freedom to speak to him upon was this.\nFinding his habit a little offensive to our rude seamen, I took him into\nthe cabin the very next day after we came to sea, and told him that I\nwas obliged to mention to him what I knew he would soon perceive;\nnamely, that we were all Protestants, except three or four of the\nFrenchmen, and I did not know how agreeable that might be to him. He\nanswered, he was not at all offended with that part; that it was none of\nhis business to inquire into any one's opinion any farther than they\ngave him leave; that if it was his business to cure the souls of men on\nshore, his business on board was to cure their bodies; and as for the\nrest, he would exercise no other function than that of a physician on\nboard the ship without my leave.\nI told him that was very obliging; but that for his own sake I had a\nproposal to make him, which was, whether it would be disagreeable to\nhim to lay aside the habit of a religious, and put on that of a\ngentleman, so to accommodate himself the more easily to the men on\nboard, who perhaps might be rude to him in his habit, seamen being not\nalways men of the most refined manners.\nHe thanked me very sincerely; told me that he had been in England as\nwell as in Ireland, and that he went dressed there as a gentleman, and\nwas ready to do so now, if I thought fit, to avoid giving any offence;\nand added that he chose to do so. But then, smiling, said he was at a\ngreat loss, for he had no clothes. I bade him take no care about that,\nfor I would furnish him; and immediately we dressed him up like an\nEnglishman, in a suit of very good clothes, which belonged to one of our\nmidshipmen who died. I gave him also a good wig and a sword, and he\npresently appeared upon the quarter-deck like a grave physician, and was\ncalled doctor.\nFrom that minute, by whose contrivance we knew not, it went current\namong the seamen that the Spanish doctor was an Englishman and a\nprotestant, and only had put on the other habit to disguise himself and\nmake his escape to us; and this was so universally believed that it held\nto the last day of the whole voyage, for as soon as I knew it, I took\ncare that nobody should ever contradict it: and as for the doctor\nhimself, when he first heard of it, he said nothing could be more to his\nsatisfaction, and that he would take care to confirm the opinion of it\namong all the men, as far as lay in his power.\nHowever, the doctor earnestly desired we would be mindful, that as he\nshould never offer to go on shore, whatever port we came to afterwards,\nnone of the Spaniards might, by inquiry, hear upon any occasion of his\nbeing on board our ship; but above all, that none of our men, the\nofficers especially, would ever come so much in reach of the Spaniards\non shore as to put it in their power to seize upon them by reprisal, and\nso oblige us to deliver him up by way of exchange.\nI went so far with him, and so did Captain Merlotte also, as to assure\nhim, that if the Spaniards should by any stratagem, or by force, get any\nof our men, nay, though it were ourselves, into their hands, yet he\nshould, upon no conditions whatever be delivered up. And indeed for this\nvery reason we were very shy of going on shore at all; and as we had\nreally no business any where but just for water and fresh provisions,\nwhich we had also taken in a very good store of at Lima, so we put in\nnowhere at all on the coast of Peru, because there we might have been\nmore particularly liable to the impertinencies of the Spaniard's\ninquiry; as to force, we were furnished not to be in the least\napprehensive of that.\nBeing thus, I say, resolved to have no more to do with the coast of\nPeru, we stood off to sea, and the first land we made was a little\nunfrequented island in the latitude of 17\u00b0 13', where our men went on\nshore in the boats three or four times, to catch tortoises or turtles,\nbeing the first we had met with since we came from the East Indies. And\nhere they took so many, and had such a prodigious quantity of eggs out\nof them, that the whole company of both ships lived on them till within\nfour or five days of our coming to the island of Juan Fernandez, which\nwas our next port. Some of these tortoises were so large and so heavy\nthat no single man could turn them, and sometimes as much as four men\ncould carry to the boats.\nWe met with some bad weather after this, which blew us off to sea, the\nwind blowing very hard at the south-east; but it was not so great a wind\nas to endanger us, though we lost sight of one another more in this\nstorm than we had done in all our voyage. However, we were none of us in\nany great concern for it now, because we had agreed before, that if we\nshould lose one another, we should make the best of our way to the\nisland of Juan Fernandez; and this we observed now so directly, that\nboth of us shaping our course for the island, as soon as the storm\nabated, came in sight of one another long before we came thither, which\nproved very agreeable to us all.\nWe were, including the time of the storm, two hundred and eighteen days\nfrom Lima to the Island of Juan Fernandez, having most of the time cross\ncontrary winds, and more bad weather than is usual in those seas;\nhowever, we were all in good condition, both ships and men.\nHere we fell to the old trade of hunting of goats. And here our new\ndoctor set some of our men to simpling, that is to say, to gather some\nphysical herbs, which he let them see afterwards were very well worth\ntheir while. Our surgeons assisted, and saw the plants, but had never\nobserved the same kind in England. They gave me the names of them, and\nit is the only discovery in all my travels which I have not reserved so\ncarefully as to publish for the advantage of others, and which I regret\nthe omission of very much.\nWhile we were here, an odd accident gave me some uneasiness, which,\nhowever, did not come to much. Early in the grey of the morning, little\nwind, and a smooth sea, a small frigate-built vessel, under Spanish\ncolours, pennant flying, appeared off at sea, at the opening of the\nnorth-east point of the island. As soon as she came fair with the road,\nshe lay by, as if she came to look into the port only; and when she\nperceived that we began to loose our sails to speak with her, she\nstretched away to the northward, and then altering her course, stood\naway north-east, using oars to assist her, and so she got away.\nNothing could be more evident to us than that she came to look at us,\nnor could we imagine anything less; from whence we immediately concluded\nthat we were discovered, and that our taking away the doctor had given a\ngreat alarm among the Spaniards, as we afterwards came to understand it\nhad done. But we came a little while afterwards to a better\nunderstanding about the frigate.\nI was so uneasy about it, that I resolved to speak with her if possible,\nso I ordered the Madagascar ship, which of the two, was rather a better\nsailer than our own, to stand in directly to the coast of Chili, and\nthen to ply to the northward, just in sight of the shore, till he came\ninto the latitude of 22\u00b0; and, if he saw nothing in all that run, then\nto come down again directly into the latitude of the island of Juan\nFernandez, but keeping the distance of ten leagues off farther than\nbefore, and to ply off and on in that latitude for five days; and then,\nif he did not meet with me, to stand in for the island.\nWhile he did this, I did the same at the distance of near fifty leagues\nfrom the shore, being the distance which I thought the frigate kept in\nas she stood away from me. We made our cruise both of us very\npunctually; I found him in the station we agreed on, and we both stood\ninto the road again from whence we came.\nWe no sooner made the road, but we saw the frigate, as I called her,\nwith another ship at an anchor in the same road where she had seen us;\nand it was easy to see that they were both of them in a great surprise\nand hurry at our appearing, and that they were under sail in so very\nlittle time as that we easily saw they had slipped their cables, or cut\naway their anchors. They fired guns twice, which we found was a signal\nfor their boats, which were on shore, to come on board; and soon after\nwe saw three boats go off to them, though, as we understood afterwards,\nthey were obliged to leave sixteen or seventeen of their men behind\nthem, who, being among the rocks catching of goats, either did not hear\nthe signals, or could not come to their boats time enough.\nWhen we saw them in this hurry, we thought it must be something\nextraordinary, and bore down upon them, having the weather-gage.\nThey were ships of pretty good force, and full of men, and when they saw\nwe were resolved to speak with them, and that there was no getting away\nfrom us, they made ready to engage; and putting themselves upon a-wind,\nfirst stretching ahead to get the weather-gage of us, when they thought\nthey were pretty well, boldly tacked, and lay by for us, hoisting the\nEnglish ancient and union jack.\nWe had our French colours out till now; but being just, as we thought,\ngoing to engage, I told Captain Merlotte I scorned to hide what nation I\nwas of when I came to fight for the honour of our country; and, besides,\nas these people had spread English colours, I ought to let them know\nwhat I was; that, if they were really English and friends, we might not\nfight by mistake, and shed the innocent blood of our own countrymen; and\nthat, if they were rogues, and counterfeited their being English, we\nshould soon perceive it.\nHowever, when they saw us put out English colours, they knew not what to\nthink of it, but lay by awhile to see what we would do. I was as much\npuzzled as they, for, as I came nearer, I thought they seemed to be\nEnglish ships, as well by their bulk as by their way of working; and as\nI came still nearer, I thought I could perceive so plainly by my glasses\nthat they were English seamen, that I made a signal to our other ship,\nwho had the van, and was just bearing down upon them, to bring to; and I\nsent my boat to him to know his opinion. He sent me word, he did believe\nthem to be English; and the more, said he, because they could be no\nother nation but English or French, and the latter he was sure they were\nnot; but, since we were the largest ships, and that they might as\nplainly see us to be English as we could see them, he said he was for\nfighting them, because they ought to have let us known who they were\nfirst. However, as I had fired a gun to bring him too, he lay by a\nlittle time till we spoke thus together.\nWhile this was doing we could see one of their boats come off with six\noars and two men, a lieutenant and trumpeter it seems they were, sitting\nin the stern, and one of them holding up a flag of truce; we let them\ncome forward, and when they came nearer, so that we could hail them with\na speaking trumpet, we asked them what countrymen they were? and they\nanswered Englishmen. Then we asked them whence their ship? Their answer\nwas, from London. At which we bade them come on board, which they did;\nand we soon found that we were all countrymen and friends, and their\nboat went immediately back to let them know it. We found afterwards that\nthey were mere privateers, fitted out from London also, but coming last\nfrom Jamaica; and we let them know no other of ourselves, but declined\nkeeping company, telling them we were bound now upon traffick, and not\nfor purchase; that we had been at the East Indies, had made some prizes,\nand were going back thither again. They told us they were come into the\nSouth Seas for purchase, but that they had made little of it, having\nheard there were three large French men-of-war in those seas, in the\nSpanish service, which made them wish they had not come about; and that\nthey were still very doubtful what to do.\nWe assured them we had been the height of Lima, and that we had not\nheard of any men-of-war, but that we had passed for such ourselves, and\nperhaps were the ships they had heard of; for that we were three sail at\nfirst, and had sometimes carried French colours.\nThis made them very glad, for it was certainly so that we had passed for\nthree French men-of-war, and they were so assured of it, that they went\nafterwards boldly up the coast, and made several very good prizes. We\nthen found also that it was one of these ships that looked into the\nroad, as above, when we were here before, and seeing us then with French\ncolours, took us for the men-of-war they had heard of; and, they added,\nthat, when we came in upon them again, they gave themselves up for lost\nmen, but were resolved to have fought it out to the last, or rather to\nhave sunk by our side, or blown themselves up, than be taken.\nI was not at all sorry that we had made this discovery before we\nengaged; for the captains were two brave resolute fellows, and had two\nvery good ships under them, one of thirty-six guns, but able to have\ncarried forty-four; the other, which we called the frigate-built ship,\ncarried twenty-eight guns, and they were both full of men. Now, though\nwe should not have feared their force, yet my case differed from what it\ndid at first, for we had that on board that makes all men cowards, I\nmean money, of which we had such a cargo as few British ships ever\nbrought out of those seas, and I was one of those that had now no\noccasion to run needless hazards. So that, in short, I was as well\npleased without fighting as they could be; besides, I had other projects\nnow in my head, and those of no less consequence than of planting a new\nworld, and settling new kingdoms, to the honour and advantage of my\ncountry; and many a time I wished heartily that all my rich cargo was\nsafe at London; that my merchants were sharing the silver and gold, and\nthe pearl among themselves; and, that I was but safe on shore, with a\nthousand good families, upon the south of Chili, and about fifteen\nhundred good soldiers, and arms for ten thousand more, of which by and\nby, and, with the two ships I had now with me, I would not fear all the\npower of the Spaniards; I mean, that they could bring against me in the\nSouth Seas.\nI had all these things, I say, in my head already, though nothing like\nto what I had afterwards, when I saw farther into the matter myself;\nhowever, these things made me very glad that I had no occasion to engage\nthose ships.\nWhen we came thus to understand one another, we went all into the road\ntogether, and I invited the captains of the two privateers on board me,\nwhere I treated them with the best I had, though I had no great dainties\nnow, having been so long out of England. They invited me and Captain\nMerlotte, and the captain of the Madagascar ship in return, and, indeed,\ntreated us very nobly.\nAfter this, we exchanged some presents of refreshments, and,\nparticularly, they sent me a hogshead of rum, which, was very\nacceptable; and I sent them in return a runlet of arrack, excusing\nmyself that I had no great store. I sent them also the quantity of one\nhundred weight of nutmegs and cloves; but the most agreeable present I\nsent them was twenty pieces of Madagascar dried beef, cured in the sun,\nthe like of which they had never seen or tasted before; and without\nquestion, it is such an excellent way of curing beef, that if I were to\nbe at Madagascar again, I would take in a sufficient quantity of beef so\npreserved to victual the whole ship for the voyage; and I leave it as a\ndirection to all English seamen that have occasion to use East-India\nvoyages.\nI bought afterwards six hogsheads of rum of these privateers, for I\nfound they were very well stored with liquors, whatever else they\nwanted.\nWe stayed here twelve or fourteen days, but took care, by agreement,\nthat our men should never go on shore the same days that their men went\non shore, or theirs when ours went, as well to avoid their caballing\ntogether, as to avoid quarrelling, though the latter was the pretence.\nWe agreed, also, not to receive on board any of our ships respectively,\nany of the crews belonging to the other; and this was their advantage,\nfor, if we would have given way to that, half their men would, for aught\nI know, have come over to us.\nWhile we lay here, one of them went a-cruising, finding the wind fair to\nrun in for the shore; and, in about five days, she came back with a\nSpanish prize, laden with meal, cocoa, and a large quantity of biscuit,\nready baked; she was bound to Lima, from Baldivia, or some port nearer,\nI do not remember exactly which. They had some gold on board, but not\nmuch, and had bought their lading at St. Jago. As soon as we saw them\ncoming in with a prize in tow, we put out our French colours, and gave\nnotice to the privateers that it was for their advantage that we did so;\nand so indeed it was, for it would presently have alarmed all the\ncountry, if such a fleet of privateers had appeared on the coast. We\nprevailed with them to give us their Spanish prisoners, and to allow us\nto set them on shore, I having assured them I would not land them till I\ncame to Baldivia, nor suffer them to have the least correspondence with\nanybody till they came thither; the said Spaniards also giving their\nparole of honour not to give any account of their being taken till\nfourteen days after they were on shore.\nThis being the farthest port south which the Spaniards are masters of in\nChili, or, indeed, on the whole continent of America, they could not\ndesire me to carry them any farther. They allowed us a quantity of meal\nand cocoa out of their booty for the subsistence of the prisoners, and\nI bought a larger quantity besides, there being more than they knew how\nto stow, and they did not resolve to keep the Spanish ship which they\ntook; by this means I was doubly stocked with flour and bread, but, as\nthe first was very good, and well packed in casks and very good jars, it\nreceived no injury.\nWe bought also some of their cocoa, and made chocolate, till our men\ngorged themselves with it, and would have no more.\nHaving furnished ourselves here with goats' flesh, as usual, and taking\nin water sufficient, we left Juan Fernandez, and saw the cruisers go out\nthe same tide, they steering north-north-east, and we south-south-east.\nThey saluted us at parting, and we bade them good-bye in the same\nlanguage.\nWhile we were now sailing for the coast of Chili, with fair wind and\npleasant weather, my Spanish doctor came to me and told me he had a\npiece of news to acquaint me with, which, he said, he believed would\nplease me very well; and this was, that one of the Spanish prisoners was\na planter, as it is called in the West Indies, or a farmer, as we should\ncall it in England, of Villa Rica, a town built by the Spaniards, near\nthe foot of the Andes, above the town of Baldivia; and that he had\nentered into discourse with him upon the situation of those hills, the\nnature of the surface, the rivers, hollows, passages into them, &c.\nWhether there were any valleys within the hills, of what extent, how\nwatered, what cattle, what people, how disposed, and the like; and, in\nshort, if there was any way of passing over the Andes, or hills above\nmentioned; and he told me, in few words, that he found him to be a very\nhonest, frank, open sort of a person, who seemed to speak without\nreserve, without the least jealousy or apprehension; and that he\nbelieved I might have an ample discovery from him of all that I desired\nto know.\nI was very glad of this news; and, at my request, it was not many hours\nbefore he brought the Spaniard into the great cabin to me, where I\ntreated him very civilly, and gave him opportunity several times to see\nhimself very well used; and, indeed, all the Spaniards in the ship were\nvery thankful for my bringing them out of the hands of the privateers,\nand took all occasions to let us see it.\nI said little the first time, but discoursed in general of America, of\nthe greatness and opulency of the Spaniards there, the infinite wealth\nof the country, &c.; and I remember well, discoursing once of the great\nriches of the Spaniards in America, the silver mines of Potosi, and\nother places, he turned short upon me, smiling, and said, We Spaniards\nare the worst nation in the world that such a treasure as this could\nhave belonged to; for if it had fallen into any other hands than ours,\nthey would have searched farther into it before now. I asked him what he\nmeant by that? and added, I thought they had searched it thoroughly\nenough; for that I believed no other nation in the world could ever have\nspread such vast dominions, and planted a country of such a prodigious\nextent, they having not only kept possession of it, but maintained the\ngovernment also, and even inhabited it with only a few people.\nPerhaps, seignior, says he, you think, notwithstanding that opinion of\nyours, that we have many more people of our nation in New Spain than we\nhave. I do not know, said I, how many you may have; but, if I should\nbelieve you have as many here as in Old Spain, it would be but a few in\ncomparison of the infinite extent of the King of Spain's dominions in\nAmerica. And then, replied he, I assure you, seignior, there is not one\nSpaniard to a thousand acres of land, take one place with another,\nthroughout New Spain.\nVery well, said I, then I think the riches and wealth of America is very\nwell searched, in comparison to the number of people you have to search\nafter it. No, says he, it is not, neither; for the greatest number of\nour people live in that part where the wealth is not the greatest, and\nwhere even the governor and viceroy, enjoying a plentiful and luxurious\nlife, they take no thought for the increase either of the king's\nrevenues, or the national wealth. This he spoke of the city of Mexico,\nwhose greatness, and the number of its inhabitants, he said, was a\ndisease to the rest of the body. And what, think you, seignior, said he,\nthat in that one city, where there is neither silver nor gold but what\nis brought from the mountains of St. Clara, the mines at St. Augustine's\nand Our Lady, some of which are a hundred leagues from it, and yet there\nare more Spaniards in Mexico than in both those two prodigious empires\nof Chili and Peru?\nI seemed not to believe him; and, indeed, I did not believe him at\nfirst, till he returned to me with a question. Pray, seignior capitain,\nsays he, how many Spaniards do you think there may be in this vast\ncountry of Chili? I told him I could make no guess of the numbers; but,\nwithout doubt, there were many thousands, intimating that I might\nsuppose, near a hundred thousand. At which he laughed heartily, and\nassured me, that there were not above two thousand five hundred in the\nwhole kingdom, besides women and children, and some few soldiers, which\nthey looked upon as nothing to inhabitants, because they were not\nsettled anywhere.\nI was indeed surprised, and began to name several large places, which, I\nthought, had singly more Spaniards in them than what he talked of. He\npresently ran over some of them, and, naming Baldivia first, as the most\nsouthward, he asked me how many I thought were there? And I told him\nabout three hundred families. He smiled, and assured me there were not\nabove three or four-and-fifty families in the whole place, and about\ntwenty-five soldiers, although it was a fortification, and a frontier.\nAt Villa Rica, or the Rich Town, where he lived, he said there might be\nabout sixty families, and a lieutenant, with twenty soldiers. In a word,\nwe passed over the many places between and came to the capital, St.\nJago, where after I had supposed there were five thousand Spaniards, he\nprotested to me there were not above eight hundred, including the\nviceroy's court, and including the families at Valparaiso, which is the\nseaport, and excluding only the soldiers, which as he said, being the\ncapital of the whole kingdom, might be about two hundred, and excluding\nthe religious, who he added, laughing, signified nothing to the planting\na country, for they neither cultivated the land nor increased the\npeople.\nOur doctor, who was our interpreter, smiled at this, but merrily said,\nthat was very true, or ought to be so, intimating, that though the\npriests do not cultivate the land, yet they might chance to increase the\npeople a little; but that was by the way. As to the number of\ninhabitants at St. Jago, the doctor agreed with him, and said, he\nbelieved he had said more than there were, rather than less.\nAs to the kingdom or empire of Peru, in which there are many\nconsiderable cities and places of note, such as Lima, Quito, Cusco, la\nPlata, and others, there are besides a great number of towns on the\nseacoasts, such as Porto Arica, St. Miguel, Prayta, Guyaquil, Truxillo,\nand many others.\nHe answered, that it was true that the city of Lima, with the town of\nCallao, was much increased within a few years, and particularly of late,\nby the settling of between three and four hundred French there, who came\nby the King of Spain's license; but that, before the coming of those\ngentlemen, at which he shook his head, the country was richer, though\nthe inhabitants were not so many; and that, take it as it was now, there\ncould not be reckoned above fifteen hundred families of Spaniards,\nexcluding the soldiers and the clergy, which, as above, he reckoned\nnothing as to the planting of the country.\nWe came then to discourse of the silver mines at Potosi, and here he\nsupposed, as I did also, a very great number of people. But seignior,\nsays he, what people is it you are speaking of? There are many thousands\nof servants, but few masters; there is a garrison of four hundred\nsoldiers always kept in arms and in good order, to secure the place, and\nkeep the negroes, and criminals who work in the mines, in subjection;\nbut that there were not besides five hundred Spaniards, that is to say,\nmen, in the whole place and its adjacents. So that, in short, he would\nnot allow above seven thousand Spaniards in the whole empire of Peru,\nand two thousand five hundred in Chili; at the same time, allowing twice\nas many as both these in the city of Mexico only.\nAfter this discourse was over, I asked him what he inferred from it, as\nto the wealth of the country not being discovered? He answered, It was\nevident that it was for want of people that the wealth of the country\nlay hid; that there was infinitely more lay uninquired after than had\nyet been known; that there were several mountains in Peru equally rich\nin silver with that of Potosi; and, as for Chili, says he, and the\ncountry where we live, there is more gold at this time in the mountains\nof the Andes, and more easy to come at, than in all the world besides.\nNay, says he, with some passion, there is more gold every year washed\ndown out of the Andes of Chili into the sea, and lost there, than all\nthe riches that go from New Spain to Europe in twenty years amount to.\nThis discourse fired my imagination you may be sure, and I renewed it\nupon all occasions, taking more or less time every day to talk with this\nSpaniard upon the subject of cultivation of the lands, improvement of\nthe country, and the like; always making such inquiries into the state\nof the mountains of the Andes as best suited my purpose, but yet so as\nnot to give him the least intimation of my design.\nOne day, conversing with him again about the great riches of the\ncountry, and of the mountains and rivers, as above, I asked him, that,\nseeing the place was so rich, why were they not all princes, or as rich\nas princes, who dwelt there? He shook his head, and said, it was a great\nreproach upon them many ways; and, when I pressed him to explain\nhimself, he answered, it was occasioned by two things, namely, pride and\nsloth. Seignior, says he, we have so much pride that we have no avarice,\nand we do not covet enough to make us work for it. We walk about\nsometimes, says he, on the banks of the streams that come down from the\nmountains, and, if we see a bit of gold lie on the shore, it may be we\nwill vouchsafe to lay off our cloak, and step forward to take it up;\nbut, if we were sure to carry home as much as we could stand under, we\nwould not strip and go to work in the water to wash it out of the sand,\nor take the pains to get it together; nor perhaps dishonour ourselves so\nmuch as to be seen carrying a load, no, not for all the value of the\ngold itself.\nI laughed then, indeed, and told him he was disposed to jest with his\ncountrymen, or to speak ironically; meaning, that they did not take so\nmuch pains as was required, to make them effectually rich, but that I\nsupposed he would not have me understand him as he spoke. He said I\nmight understand as favourably as I pleased, but I should find the fact\nto be true if I would go up with him to Villa Rica, when I came to\nBaldivia; and, with that, he made his compliment to me, and invited me\nto his house.\nI asked him with a _con licentia_, seignior, that is, with pardon for so\nmuch freedom, that, if he lived in so rich a country, and where there\nwas so inexhaustible a treasure of gold, how came he to fall into this\nstate of captivity? and what made him venture himself upon the sea, to\nfall into the hands of pirates?\nHe answered, that it was on the very foot of what he had been\ncomplaining of; and that, having seen so much of the wealth of the\ncountry he lived in, and having reproached himself with that very\nindolence which he now blamed all his countrymen for, he had resolved in\nconjunction with two of his neighbours, the Spaniards, and men of good\nsubstance, to set to work in a place in the mountains where they had\nfound some gold, and had seen much washed down by the water, and to find\nwhat might be done in a thorough search after the fund or mine of it,\nwhich they were sure was not far off; and that he was going to Lima, and\nfrom thence, if he could not be supplied, to Panama, to buy negroes for\nthe work, that they might carry it on with the better success.\nThis was a feeling discourse to me, and made such an impression on me,\nthat I secretly resolved that when I came to Baldivia, I would go up\nwith this sincere Spaniard, for so I thought him to be, and so I found\nhim, and would be an eyewitness to the discovery which I thought was\nmade to my hand, and which I found now I could make more effectual than\nby all the attempts I was like to make by secondhand.\nFrom this time I treated the Spaniard with more than ordinary courtesy,\nand told him, if I was not captain of a great ship, and had a cargo upon\nme of other gentleman's estates, he had said so much of those things,\nthat I should be tempted to give him a visit as he desired, and see\nthose wonderful mountains of the Andes.\nHe told me that if I would do him so much honour, I should not be\nobliged to any long stay; that he would procure mules for me at\nBaldivia, and that I should go not to his house only, but to the\nmountain itself, and see all that I desired, and be back again in\nfourteen days at the farthest. I shook my head, as if it could not be,\nbut he never left importuning me; and once or twice, as if I had been\nafraid to venture myself with him, he told me he would send for his two\nsons, and leave them in the ship, as hostages for my safety.\nI was fully satisfied as to that point, but did not let him know my mind\nyet; but every day we dwelt upon the same subject, and I travelled\nthrough the mountains and valleys so duly in every day's discourse with\nhim, that when I afterwards came to the places we had talked of, it was\nas if I had looked over them in a map before.\nI asked him if the Andes were a mere wall of mountains, contiguous and\nwithout intervals and spaces, like a fortification, or boundary to a\ncountry? or whether they lay promiscuous, and distant from one another?\nand whether there lay any way over them into the country beyond?\nHe smiled when I talked of going over them. He told me they were so\ninfinitely high, that no human creature could live upon the top; and\nwithal so steep and so frightful, that if there was even a pair of\nstairs up on one side, and down on the other, no man would dare to mount\nup, or venture down.\nBut that as for the notion of the hills being contiguous, like a wall\nthat had no gates, that was all fabulous; that there were several fair\nentrances in among the mountains, and large pleasant and fruitful\nvalleys among the hills, with pleasant rivers, and numbers of\ninhabitants, and cattle and provisions of all sorts; and that some of\nthe most delightful places to live in that were in the whole world were\namong the valleys, in the very centre of the highest and most dreadful\nmountains.\nWell, said I, seignior, but how do they go out of one valley into\nanother? and whither do they go at last? He answered me, those valleys\nare always full of pleasant rivers and brooks, which fall from the\nhills, and are formed generally into one principal stream to every vale:\nand that as these must have their outlets on one side of the hills or on\nthe other, so, following the course of those streams, one is always sure\nto find the way out of one valley into another, and at last out of the\nwhole into the open country; so that it was very frequent to pass from\none side to the other of the whole body of the mountains, and not go\nmuch higher up hill or down hill, compared to the hills in other places.\nIt was true, he said, there was no abrupt visible parting in the\nmountains, that should seem like a way cut through from the bottom to\nthe top, which would be indeed frightful; but that as they pass from\nsome of the valleys to others, there are ascents and descents, windings\nand turnings, sloping up and sloping down, where we may stand on those\nlittle ridges, and see the waters on one side run to the west, and on\nthe other side to the east.\nI asked him what kind of a country was on the other side? and how long\ntime it would take up to go through from one side to the other? He told\nme there were ways indeed that were more mountainous and uneasy, in\nwhich men kept upon the sides or declivity of the hills; in which the\nnatives would go, and guide others to go, and so might pass the whole\nridge of the Andes in eight or nine days, but that those ways were\nesteemed very dismal, lonely, and dangerous, because of wild beasts; but\nthat through the valleys, the way was easy and pleasant, and perfectly\nsafe, only farther about; and that those ways a man might be sixteen or\nseventeen days going through.\nI laid up all this in my heart, to make use of as I should have\noccasion, but I acknowledged that it was surprising to me, as it was so\nperfectly agreeing with the notion that I always entertained of those\nmountains, of the riches of them, the facility of access to and from\nthem, and the easy passage from one side to another.\nThe next discourse I had with him upon this subject I began thus: Well,\nseignior, said I, we are now come quite through the valleys and passages\nof the Andes, and, methinks I see a vast open country before me on the\nother side; pray tell me, have you ever been so far as to look into that\npart of the world, and what kind of a country it is?\nHe answered gravely, that he had been far enough several times to look\nat a distance into the vast country I spoke of; And such, indeed, it is,\nsaid he; and, as we come upon the rising part of the hills we see a\ngreat way, and a country without end; but, as to any descriptions of it,\nI can say but little, added he, only this, that it is a very fruitful\ncountry on that side next the hills; what it is farther, I know not.\nI asked him if there were any considerable rivers in it, and which way\nthey generally run? He said it could not be but that from such a ridge\nof mountains as the Andes there must be a great many rivers on that\nside, as there were apparently on this; and that, as the country was\ninfinitely larger, and their course, in proportion, longer, it would\nnecessarily follow that those small rivers would run one into another,\nand so form great navigable rivers, as was the case in the Rio de la\nPlata, which originally sprung from the same hills, about the city La\nPlata, in Peru, and swallowing up all the streams of less note, became,\nby the mere length of its course, one of the greatest rivers in the\nworld. That, as he observed, most of those rivers ran rather\nsouth-eastward than northward, he believed they ran away to the sea, a\ngreat way farther to the south than the Rio de la Plata; but, as to what\npart of the coast they might come to the sea in, that he knew nothing of\nit.\nThis account was so rational that nothing could be more, and was,\nindeed, extremely satisfactory. It was also very remarkable that this\nagreed exactly with the accounts before given me by the two Chilian\nIndians, or natives, which I had on board, and with whom I still\ncontinued to discourse, as occasion presented; but whom, at this time, I\nremoved into the Madagascar ship, to make-room for these Spanish\nprisoners.\nI observed the Spaniard was made very sensible, by my doctor, of the\nobligation both he and his fellow-prisoners were under to me, in my\npersuading the privateers to set them at liberty, and in undertaking to\ncarry them home to that part of Spain from whence they came; for, as\nthey had lost their cargo, their voyage seemed to be at an end. The\nsense of the favour, I say, which I had done him, and was still doing\nhim, in the civil treatment which I gave him, made this gentleman, for\nsuch he was in himself and in his disposition, whatever he was by\nfamily, for that I knew nothing of, I say, it made him exceedingly\nimportunate with me, and with my doctor, who spoke Spanish perfectly\nwell, to go with him to Villa Rica.\nI made him no promise, but talked at a distance. I told him, if he had\nlived by the sea, and I could have sailed to his door in my ship, I\nwould have made him a visit. He returned, that he wished he could make\nthe river of Baldivia navigable for me, that I might bring my ship up to\nhis door; and, he would venture to say, that neither I, nor any of my\nship's company, should starve while we were with him. In the interval of\nthese discourses, I asked my doctor his opinion, whether he thought I\nmight trust this Spaniard, if I had a mind to go up and see the country\nfor a few days?\nSeignior, says he, the Spaniards are, in some respects, the worst nation\nunder the sun; they are cruel, inexorable, uncharitable, voracious, and,\nin several cases, treacherous; but, in two things, they are to be\ndepended upon beyond all the nations in the world; that is to say, when\nthey give their honour, to perform anything, and when they have a return\nto make for any favour received. And here he entertained me with a long\nstory of a merchant of Carthagena, who, in a sloop, was shipwrecked at\nsea, and was taken up by an English merchant on board a ship bound to\nLondon from Barbadoes, or some other of our islands; that the English\nmerchant, meeting another English ship bound to Jamaica, put the\nSpanish merchant on board him, paid him for his passage, and desired him\nto set him on shore on the Spanish coast, as near to Carthagena as he\ncould. This Spanish merchant could never rest till he found means to\nship himself from Carthagena to the Havannah, in the galleons; from\nthence to Cadiz in Old Spain; and from thence to London, to find out the\nEnglish merchant, and make him a present to the value of a thousand\npistoles for saving his life, and for his civility in returning him to\nJamaica, &c. Whether the story was true or not, his inference from it\nwas just, namely, that a Spaniard never forgot a kindness. But take it\nwithal, says the doctor, that I believe it is as much the effect of\ntheir pride as of their virtue; for at the same time, said he, they\nnever forget an ill turn any more than they do a good one; and they\nfrequently entail their enmities on their families, and prosecute the\nrevenge from one generation to another, so that the heir has, with the\nestate of his ancestors, all the family broils upon his hands as he\ncomes to his estate.\nFrom all this he inferred that, as this Spaniard found himself so very\nmuch obliged to me, I might depend upon it that he had so much pride in\nhim, that if he could pull down the Andes for me to go through, and I\nwanted it, he would do it for me; and that nothing would be a greater\nsatisfaction to him, than to find some way or other how to requite me.\nAll these discourses shortened our voyage, and we arrived fair and\nsoftly (for it was very good weather, and little wind) at Tucapel, or\nthe river Imperial, within ten leagues of Baldivia, that is to say, of\nCape Bonifacio, which is the north point of the entrance into the river\nof Baldivia. And here I took one of the most unaccountable, and I must\nneeds acknowledge, unjustifiably resolutions, that ever any commander,\nintrusted with a ship of such force, and a cargo of such consequence,\nadventured upon before, and which I by no means recommend to any\ncommander of any ship to imitate; and this was, to venture up into the\ncountry above a hundred and fifty miles from my ship, leaving the\nsuccess of the whole voyage, the estates of my employers, and the\nrichest ship and cargo that ever came out of those seas, to the care and\nfidelity of two or three men. Such was the unsatisfied thirst of new\ndiscoveries which I brought out of England with me, and which I\nnourished, at all hazards, to the end of the voyage.\nHowever, though I condemn myself in the main for the rashness of the\nundertaking, yet let me do myself so much justice as to leave it on\nrecord too, that I did not run this risk without all needful precautions\nfor the safety of the ship and cargo.\nAnd first, I found out a safe place for the ships to ride, and this\nneither in the river of Tucapel, nor in the river of Baldivia, but in an\nopening or inlet of water, without a name, about a league to the south\nof Tucapel, embayed and secured from almost all the winds that could\nblow. Here the ships lay easy, with water enough, having about eleven\nfathoms good holding ground, and about half a league from shore.\nI left the supercargo and my mate, also a kinsman of my own, a true\nsailor, who had been a midshipman, but was now a lieutenant; I say, to\nthose I left the command of both my ships, but with express orders not\nto stir nor unmoor, upon any account whatever, unavoidable accidents\nexcepted, until my return, or until, if I should die, they should hear\nof that event; no, though they were to stay there six months, for they\nhad provisions enough, and an excellent place for watering lay just by\nthem. And I made all the men swear to me that they would make no mutiny\nor disorder, but obey my said kinsman in one ship, and the supercargo in\nthe other, in all things, except removing from that place; and that, if\nthey should command them to stir from thence, they would not so much as\ntouch a sail or a rope for the purpose.\nWhen I made all these conditions, and told my men that the design I went\nupon was for the good of their voyage, for the service of the owners,\nand should, if it succeeded, be for all their advantages, I asked them\nif they were all willing I should go? To which they all answered, that\nthey were very willing, and would take the same care of the ships, and\nof all things belonging to them, as if I were on board. This encouraged\nme greatly, and I now resolved nothing should hinder me.\nHaving thus concluded everything, then, and not till then, I told my\nSpaniard that I had almost resolved to go along with him, at which he\nappeared exceedingly pleased, and, indeed, in a surprise of joy. I\nshould have said, that, before I told him this, I had set all the rest\nof the prisoners on shore, at their own request, just between the port\nof Tucapel and the bay of the Conception, excepting two men, who, as he\ntold me, lived in the open country beyond Baldivia, and, as he observed,\nwere very glad to be set on shore with him, so to travel home, having\nlost what little they had in the ship, and to whom he communicated\nnothing of the discourse we had so frequently held, concerning the\naffair of the mountains.\nI also dismissed now the two Chilian Indians, but not without a very\ngood reward, not proportioned to their trouble and time only, but\nproportioned to what I seemed to expect of them, and filled them still\nwith expectations that I would come again, and take a journey with them\ninto the mountains.\nAnd now it became necessary that I should, use the utmost freedom with\nmy new friend, the Spaniard, being, as I told him, to put my life in his\nhands, and the prosperity of my whole adventure, both ship and ship's\ncompany.\nHe told me he was sensible that I did put my life into his hands, and\nthat it was a very great token of my confidence in him, even such a one\nthat he, being a stranger to me, had no reason to expect; but he desired\nme to consider that he was a Christian, not a savage; that he was one I\nhad laid the highest obligation upon, in voluntarily taking him out of\nthe hands of the freebooters, where he might have lost his life. And, in\nthe next place, he said, it was some recommendation that he was a\ngentleman, and that I should find him to be a man of honour; and,\nlastly, that it did not appear that he could make any advantage of me,\nor that he could get anything by using me ill; and, if even that was no\nargument, yet I should find, when I came to his house, that he was not\nin a condition to want anything that might be gained, so much as to\nprocure it by such a piece of villany and treachery as to betray and\ndestroy the man who had saved his life, and brought him out of the hands\nof the devil safe to his country and family, when he might have been\ncarried away God knows whither. But to conclude all, he desired me to\naccept the offer he had made me at sea, viz., that he would send for his\ntwo sons, and leave them on board the ship as hostages for my safety,\nand desired they might be used on board no otherwise than I was used\nwith him in the country.\nI was ashamed to accept such an offer as this, but he pressed it\nearnestly, and importuned the doctor to move me to accept it, telling\nhim that he should not be easy if I did not; so that, in short, the\ndoctor advised me to agree to it, and, accordingly, he hired a messenger\nand a mule, and sent away for his two sons to come to him; and such\nexpedition the messenger made, that in six days he returned with the two\nsons and three servants, all on horseback. His two sons were very\npretty, well-behaved youths, who appeared to be gentlemen in their very\ncountenances; the eldest was about thirteen years old, and the other\nabout eleven. I treated them on board, as I had done their father, with\nall possible respect; and, having entertained them two days, left orders\nthat they should be treated in the same manner when I was gone; and to\nthis I added aloud, that their father might hear it, that whenever they\nhad a mind to go away, they should let them go. But their father laid a\ngreat many solemn charges upon them that they should not stir out of the\nship till I came back safe, and that I gave them leave, and he made them\npromise they would not; and the young gentlemen kept their word so\npunctually, that, when our supercargo, whom I left in command, offered\nto let them go on shore several times, to divert them with shooting and\nhunting, they would not stir out of the ship, and did not till I came\nback again.\nHaving gone this length, and made everything ready for my adventure, we\nset out, viz., Captain Merlotte, the Spanish doctor, the old mutineer\nwho had been my second mate, but who was now captain of the Madagascar\nship, and myself, with two midshipmen, whom he took as servants, but\nwhom I resolved to make the directors of the main enterprise. As to the\nnumber, I found my Spaniard made no scruple of that, if it had been half\nmy ship's company.\nWe set out, some on horses and some on mules, as we could get them, but\nthe Spaniard and myself rode on two very good horses, being the same\nthat his two sons came on. We arrived at a noble country-seat, about a\nleague short of the town, where, at first, I thought we had been only to\nput in for refreshment, but I soon found that it was really his\ndwelling-house, and where his family and servants resided.\nHere we were received like princes, and with as much ceremony as if he\nhad been a prince that entertained us. The major-domo, or steward of his\nhouse, received us, took in our baggage, and ordered our servants to be\ntaken care of.\nIt is sufficient to say, that the Spaniard did all that pride and\nostentation was capable of inspiring him with, to entertain us; and the\ntruth is, he could not have lived in a country in the world more capable\nof gratifying his pride; for here, without anything uncommon, he was\nable to show more gold plate than many good families in our country have\nof silver; and as for silver, it quite eclipsed the appearance, or\nrather took away the very use of pewter, of which we did not see one\nvessel, no not in the meanest part of his house. It is true, I believe,\nthe Spaniard had not a piece of plate, or of any household furniture,\nwhich we did not see, except what belonged to the apartment of his wife;\nand, it is to be observed, that the women never appeared, except at a\ndistance, and in the gardens, and then, being under veils, we could not\nknow the lady from her women, or the maids from the mistress.\nWe were lodged every one in separate apartments, very well furnished,\nbut two of them very nobly indeed, though all the materials for\nfurniture there must be at an excessive price. The way of lodging upon\nquilts, and in beds made pavilion-wise, after the Spanish custom, I need\nnot describe; but it surprised me to see the rooms hung with very rich\ntapestries, in a part of the world where they must cost so dear.\nWe had Chilian wine served us up in round gold cups, and water in large\nsilver decanters, that held, at least, five quarts apiece; these stood\nin our chamber. Our chocolate was brought up in the same manner, in deep\ncups, all of gold, and it was made in vessels all of silver.\nIt would be tiresome to the reader to particularise my account with the\nrelation of all the fine things our host had in his house, and I could\nnot be persuaded but that he had borrowed all the plate in the town to\nfurnish out his sideboard and table. But my doctor told me it was\nnothing but what was very usual among them that were men of any\nsubstance, as it was apparent he was; and that the silversmiths at St.\nJago supplied them generally with their plate ready wrought, in exchange\n(with allowance for the quality) for the gold which they found in the\nmountains, or in the brooks and streams which came from the mountains,\ninto which the hasty showers of winter rain frequently washed down\npretty large lumps, and others, which were smaller, they washed out of\nthe sands by the ordinary methods of washing of ore.\nI was better satisfied in this particular when, the next day, talking to\nour new landlord about the mountains, and the wealth of them, I asked\nhim if he could show me any of the gold which was usually washed out of\nthe hills by the rain, in the natural figure in which it was found? He\nsmiled, and told me he could show me a little, and immediately conducted\nus into a kind of a closet, where he had a great variety of odd things\ngathered up about the mountains and rivers, such as fine shells, stones\nin the form of stars, heavy pieces of ore, and the like, and, after\nthis, he pulled out a great leather bag, which had, I believe, near\nfifty pounds weight in it. Here, seignior, says he, here is some of the\ndirt of the earth; and turning it out upon the table, it was easy to see\nthat it was all mixed with gold, though the pieces were of different\nforms, and some scarce looking like gold at all, being so mixed with the\nspar or with earth, that it did not appear so plain; but, in every bit\nthere was something of the clear gold to be seen, and, the smaller the\nlumps, the purer the gold appeared.\nI was surprised at the quantity, more than at the quality of the metal,\nhaving, as I have said, seen the gold which the Indians found in the\ncountries I have described, which seemed to have little or no mixture.\nBut then I was to have considered, that what those Indians gathered was\nfarther from the hills which it came from, and that those rough,\nirregular pieces would not drive so far in the water, but would lodge\nthemselves in the earth and sand of the rivers nearer home; and also,\nthat the Indians, not knowing how to separate the gold by fire from the\ndross and mixture above, did not think those rough pieces worth their\ntaking up, whereas, the Spaniards here understood much better what they\nwere about.\nBut, to return to the closet. When he had shown us this leather pouch of\ngold, he swept the ore to one side of the table, which had ledges round\nit to keep it from running off, and took up another bag full of large\npieces of stone, great lumps of earth, and pieces of various shapes, all\nof which had some gold in them, but not to be gotten out but by fire.\nThese, he told us, their servants bring home as they find them in the\nmountains, lying loose here and there, when they go after their cattle.\nBut still, I asked him if they found no pieces of pure gold; upon this\nhe turned to a great old cabinet, full of pretty large drawers, and,\npulling out one drawer, he showed us a surprising number of pieces of\npure clean gold, some round, some long, some flat, some thick, all of\nirregular shapes, and worked roundish at the ends with rolling along on\nthe sands; some of these weighed a quarter of an ounce, some more, and\nsome less; and, as I lifted the drawer, I thought there could be no less\nthan between twenty and thirty pounds weight of it.\nThen he pulled out another drawer, which was almost full of the same\nkind of metal, but as small as sand, the biggest not so big as pins\nheads, and which might very properly be called gold dust.\nAfter this sight, we were not to be surprised at anything he could show\nus of the kind. I asked him how long such a treasure might be amassing\ntogether in that country? He told me that was according to the pains\nthey might take in the search; that he had been twelve years here, and\nhad done little or nothing; but, had he had twenty negroes to have set\non work, as he might have had, he might have procured more than this in\none year. I asked him how much gold in weight he thought there might be\nin all he had shown me? He told me, he could not tell; that they never\ntroubled themselves to weigh, but when the silversmith at St. Jago came\nto bring home any vessel, or when the merchants from Lima came to\nBaldivia with European goods, then they bought what they wanted of them.\nThat they were sensible they gave excessive prices for everything, even\nten or twenty for one; but as gold, he said, was the growth of that\ncountry, and the other things, such as cloth, linen, fine silks, &c,\nwere the gold of Europe, they did not think much to give what was asked\nfor those things. In short, I found that the people in this country,\nthough they kept large plantations in their hands, had great numbers of\ncattle, ingenios, as they call them, for making sugar, and land, under\nmanagement, for the maintenance of themselves and families, yet did not\nwholly neglect the getting gold out of the mountains, where it was in\nsuch plenty; and, therefore, it seems the town adjacent is called Villa\nRica, or the Rich Town, being seated, as it were, at the foot of the\nmountains, and in the richest part of them.\nAfter I had sufficiently admired the vast quantity of gold he had, he\nmade signs to the doctor that I should take any piece or any quantity\nthat I pleased; but thought I might take it as an affront to have him\noffer me any particular small parcel. The doctor hinted to me, and I\nbade him return him thanks; but to let him know that I would by no means\nhave any of that, but that I would be glad to take up a piece or two,\nsuch as chance should present to me, in the mountains, that I might show\nin my own country, and tell them that I took it up with my own hands. He\nanswered, he would go with me himself; and doubted not but to carry me\nwhere I should fully satisfy my curiosity, if I would be content to\nclimb a little among the rocks.\nI now began to see plainly that I had no manner of need to have taken\nhis sons for hostages for my safety, and would fain have sent for them\nback again, but he would by no means give me leave; so I was obliged to\ngive that over. A day or two after, I desired he would give me leave to\nsend for one person more from the ships, who I had a great mind should\nsee the country with me, and to send for some few things that I should\nwant, and, withal, to satisfy my men that I was safe and well.\nThis he consented to; so I sent away one of the two midshipmen, whom I\ncalled my servants, and with him two servants of the Spaniard, my\nlandlord, as I styled him, with four mules and two horses. I gave my\nmidshipman my orders and directions, under my hand, to my supercargo,\nwhat to do, for I was resolved to be even with my Spaniard for all his\ngood usage of me. The midshipman and his two companions did not return\nin less than ten days, for they came back pretty well laden, and were\nobliged to come all the way on foot.\nThe whole of this time my landlord and I spent in surveying the country,\nand viewing his plantation. As for the city of Villa Rica, it was not\nthe most proper to go there in public, and the doctor knew that as well\nas the Spaniard, and, therefore, though we went several times\n_incognito_, yet it was of no consequence to me, neither did I desire\nit.\nOne night I had a very strange fright here, and behaved myself very much\nlike a simpleton about it. The case was this. I waked in the middle of\nthe night, and, chancing to open my eyes, I saw a great light of fire,\nwhich, to me, seemed as if the house, or some part of it, had been on\nfire, I, as if I had been at Wapping or Rotherhithe, where people are\nalways terrified with such things, jumped out of bed, and called my\nfriend, Captain Merlotte, and cried out, Fire! fire! The first thing I\nshould have thought of on this occasion should have been, that the\nSpaniards did not understand what the words fire! fire! meant; and that,\nif I expected they should understand me, I should have cried Fuego,\nFuego!\nHowever, Captain Merlotte got up, and my Madagascar captain, for we all\nlay near one another, and, with the noise, they waked the whole house;\nand my landlord, as he afterwards confessed, began to suspect some\nmischief, his steward having come to his chamber door, and told him that\nthe strangers were up in arms; in which mistake we might have all had\nour throats cut, and the poor Spaniard not to blame neither.\nBut our doctor coming hastily in to me, unriddled the whole matter,\nwhich was this: that a volcano, or burning vent among the hills, being\npretty near the Spanish side of the country, as there are many of them\nin the Andes, had flamed out that night, and gave such a terrible light\nin the air as made us think the fire had at least been in the outhouses,\nor in part of the house, and, accordingly, had put me in such a fright.\nUpon this, having told me what it was, he ran away to the Spanish\nservants, and told them what the meaning of it all was, and bade them go\nand satisfy their master, which they did, and all was well again; but,\nas for myself, I sat up almost all the night staring out from the window\nat the eruption of fire upon the hills, for the like wonderful\nappearance I had never seen before.\nI sincerely begged my landlord's pardon for disturbing his house, and\nasked him if those eruptions were frequent? He said no, they were not\nfrequent, for they were constant, either in one part of the hills or\nanother; and that in my passing the mountains I should see several of\nthem. I asked him if they were not alarmed with them? and if they were\nnot attended with earthquakes? He said, he believed that among the hills\nthemselves they might have some shakings of the earth, because sometimes\nwere found pieces of the rocks that had been broken off and fallen down;\nand that it was among those that sometimes parts of stone were found\nwhich had gold interspersed in them, as if they had been melted and run\ntogether, of which he had shown me some; but that, as for earthquakes in\nthe country, he had never heard of any since he came thither, which had\nbeen upwards of fifteen years, including three years that he dwelt at\nSt. Jago.\nOne day, being out on horseback with my landlord, we rode up close to\nthe mountains, and he showed me at a distance, an entrance as he called\nit, into them, frightful enough, indeed, as shall be described in its\nplace. He then told me, that was the way he intended to carry me when he\nshould go to show me the highest hills in the world; but he turned\nshort, and, smiling, said it should not be yet; for, though he had\npromised me a safe return, and left hostages for it, yet he had not\ncapitulated for time.\nI told him he need not capitulate with me for time; for if I had not two\nships to stay my coming, and between three and four hundred men eating\nme up all the while, I did not know whether I should ever go away again\nor not, if he would give me house room. He told me as to that, he had\nsent my men some provisions, so that they would not starve if I did not\ngo back for some days. This surprised me not a little, and I discovered\nit in my countenance. Nay, seignior, says he, I have only sent them some\nvictuals to maintain my two hostages, for you know they must not want.\nIt was not good manners in me to ask what he had sent; but I understood,\nas soon as my midshipman returned, that he had sent down sixteen cows or\nrunts, I know not what else to call them, but they were black cattle,\nthirty hogs, thirteen large Peruvian sheep, as big as great calves, and\nthree casks of Chilian wine, with an assurance that they should have\nmore provisions when that was spent.\nI was amazed at all this munificence of the Spaniard, and very glad I\nwas that I had sent my midshipman for the things I intended to present\nhim with, for I was as well able to requite him for a large present as\nhe was to make it, and had resolved it before I knew he had sent\nanything to the ships; so that this exchanging of presents was but a\nkind of generous barter or commerce; for as to gold, we had either of us\nso much, that it was not at all equal in value to what we had to give on\nboth sides, as we were at present situated.\nIn short, my midshipman returned with the horses and servants, and when\nhe had brought what I had sent for into a place which I desired the\nSpaniard to allow me to open my things in, I sent my doctor to desire\nthe Spaniard to let me speak with him.\nI told him first, that he must give me his parole of honour not to take\namiss what I had to say to him; that it was the custom in our country,\nat any time, to make presents to the ladies, with the knowledge and\nconsent of their husbands or parents, without any evil design, or\nwithout giving any offence, but that I knew it was not so among the\nSpaniards. That I had not had the honour yet either to see his lady or\nhis daughter, but that I had heard he had both; however, that if he\npleased to be the messenger of a trifle I had caused my man to bring,\nand would present it for me, and not take it as an offence, he should\nsee beforehand what it was, and I would content myself with his\naccepting it in their behalf.\nHe told me, smiling, he did not bring me thither to take any presents of\nme. I had already done enough, in that I had given him his liberty,\nwhich was the most valuable gift in the world: and, as to his wife, I\nhad already made her the best present I was able, having given her back\nher husband. That it is true, it was not the custom of the Spaniards to\nlet their wives appear in any public entertainment of friends, but that\nhe had resolved to break through that custom; and that he had told his\nwife what a friend I had been to her family, and that she should thank\nme for it in person; and that then, what present I had designed for her,\nsince I would be a maker of presents, she should do herself the honour\nto take it with her own hands, and he would be very far from mistaking\nthem, or taking it ill from his wife.\nAs this was the highest compliment he was able to make me, the more he\nwas obliging in the manner, for he returned in about two hours, leading\nhis wife into the room by the hand, and his daughter following.\nI must confess I was surprised, for I did not expect to have seen such a\nsight in America. The lady's dress, indeed, I cannot easily describe;\nbut she was really a charming woman, of about forty years of age, and\ncovered over with emeralds and diamonds; I mean as to her head. She was\nveiled till she came into the room, but gave her veil to her woman when\nher husband took her by the hand. Her daughter I took to be about\ntwelve years old, which the Spaniards count marriageable; she was\npretty, but not so handsome as her mother.\nAfter the compliments on both sides, my landlord, as I now call him,\ntold her very handsomely what a benefactor I had been to her family, by\nredeeming him from the hands of villains; and she, turning to me,\nthanked me in the most obliging manner, and with a modest graceful way\nof speech, such as I cannot describe, and which indeed I did not think\nthe Spaniards, who are said to be so haughty, had been acquainted with.\nI then desired the doctor to tell the Spaniard, her husband, that I\nrequested his lady to accept a small present which my midshipman had\nbrought for her from the ship, and which I took in my hand, and the\nSpaniard led his wife forward to take it; and I must needs say it was\nnot a mean present, besides its being of ten times the value in that\nplace as it would have been at London; and I was now very glad that, as\nI mentioned above, I always reserved a small quantity of all goods\nunsold, that I might have them to dispose of as occasion should offer.\nFirst, I presented her with a very fine piece of Dutch Holland, worth in\nLondon about seven shillings an ell, and thirty-six ells in length, and\nworth in Chili, to be sure, fifteen pieces of eight per ell, at least;\nor it was rather likely that all the kingdom of Chili had not such\nanother.\nThen I gave her two pieces of China damask, and two pieces of China\nsilks, called atlasses, flowered with gold; two pieces of fine muslin,\none flowered the other plain, and a piece of very fine chintz, or\nprinted calico; also a large parcel of spices, made up in elegant\npapers, being about six pounds of nutmegs, and about twice as many\ncloves.\nAnd lastly, to the young lady I gave one piece of damask, two pieces of\nChina taffity, and a piece of fine striped muslin.\nAfter all this was delivered, and the ladies had received them, and\ngiven them their women to hold, I pulled out a little box in which I had\ntwo couple of large pearls, of that pearl which I mentioned we found at\nthe Pearl Islands, very well matched for ear-rings, and gave the lady\none pair, and the daughter the other; and now, I think, I had made a\npresent fit for an ambassador to carry to a prince.\nThe ladies made all possible acknowledgment, and we had the honour that\nday to dine with them in public. My landlord, the Spaniard, told me I\nhad given them such a present as the viceroy of Mexico's lady would have\ngone fifty leagues to have received.\nBut I had not done with my host; for after dinner, I took him into the\nsame room, and told him I hoped he did not think I had made all my\npresents to the ladies, and had nothing left to show my respect to him;\nand therefore, first, I presented him with three negro men, which I had\nbought at Callao for my own use, but knew I could supply myself again,\nat or in my way home, at a moderate price; in the next place, I gave him\nthree pieces of black Colchester baize, which, though they are coarse\nordinary things in England, that a footman would scarce wear, are a\nhabit for a prince in that country. I then gave him a piece of very fine\nEnglish serge, which was really very valuable in England, but much more\nthere, and another piece of crimson broadcloth, and six pieces of fine\nsilk druggets for his two sons; and thus I finished my presents. The\nSpaniard stood still and looked on all the while I was laying out my\npresents to him, as one in a transport, and said not one word till all\nwas over; but then he told me very gravely, that it was now time for him\nto turn me out of his house: For seignior, says he, no man ought to\nsuffer himself to be obliged beyond his power of return, and I have no\npossible way of making any return to you equal to such things as these.\nIt is true the present I had made him, if it was to be rated by the\nvalue of things in the country where it then was, would have been valued\nat six or seven hundred pounds sterling; but, to reckon them as they\ncost me, did not altogether amount to above one hundred pounds, except\nthe three negroes, which, indeed, cost me at Lima one thousand two\nhundred pieces of eight.\nHe was as sensible of the price of those negroes as I was of the\noccasion he had of them, and of the work he had to do for them; and he\ncame to me about an hour after, and told me he had looked over all the\nparticulars of the noble presents which I had made them; and though the\nvalue was too great for him to accept, or for any man to offer him, yet\nsince I had been at so much trouble to send for the things, and that I\nthought him worthy such a bounty, he was come back to tell me that he\naccepted thankfully all my presents, both to himself and to his wife\nand daughter, except only the three negroes; and as they were bought in\nthe country, and were the particular traffick of the place, he could not\ntake them as a present, but would be equally obliged, and take it for as\nmuch a favour if I would allow him to pay for them.\nI smiled, and told him he and I would agree upon that; for he did not\nyet know what favours I had to ask of him, and what expense I should put\nhim to; that I had a great design in my view, which I was to crave his\nassistance in, and which I had not yet communicated to him, in which he\nmight perhaps find that he would pay dear enough for all the little\npresents I had made him; and, in the meantime, to make himself easy as\nto the three negro men, I gave him my word that he should pay for them,\nonly not yet.\nHe could have nothing to object against an offer of this kind, because\nhe could not guess what I meant, but gave me all the assurance of\nservice and assistance that lay in his power in anything that I might\nhave to do in that country.\nBut here, by the way, it ought to be understood, that all this was\ncarried on with a supposition that we acted under a commission from the\nKing of France; and though he knew many of us were English, and that I\nwas an Englishman in particular, yet as we had such a commission, and\nproduced it, we were Frenchmen in that sense to him, nor did he\nentertain us under any other idea.\nThe sequel of this story will also make it sufficiently appear that I\ndid not make such presents as these in mere ostentation, or only upon\nthe compliment of a visit to a Spanish gentleman, any more than I would\nleave my ship and a cargo of such value, in the manner I had done, to\nmake a tour into the country, if I had not had views sufficient to\njustify such measures; and the consequence of those measures will be the\nbest apology for my conduct, with all who will impartially consider\nthem.\nWe had now spent a fortnight, and something more, in ceremony and\ncivilities, and in now and then taking a little tour about the fields\nand towards the mountains. However, even in this way of living I was not\nso idle as I seemed to be, for I not only made due observations of all\nthe country which I saw, but informed myself sufficiently of the parts\nwhich I did not see. I found the country not only fruitful in the soil,\nbut wonderfully temperate and agreeable in its climate. The air, though\nhot, according to its proper latitude, yet that heat so moderated by the\ncool breezes from the mountains, that it was rather equal to the plain\ncountries in other parts of the world in the latitude of 50\u00b0 than to a\nclimate in 38 to 40\u00b0.\nThis gave the inhabitants the advantages, not only of pleasant and\nagreeable living, but also of a particular fertility which hot climates\nare not blessed with, especially as to corn, the most necessary of all\nproductions, such as wheat, I mean European wheat, or English wheat,\nwhich grew here as well and as kindly as in England, which in Peru and\nin the Isthmus of America will by no means thrive for want of moisture\nand cold.\nHere were also an excellent middling breed of black cattle, which the\nnatives fed under the shade of the mountains and on the banks of the\nrivers till they came to be very fat. In a word, here were, or might be\nproduced, all the plants, fruits, and grain, of a temperate climate. At\nthe same time, the orange, lemon, citron, pomegranate, and figs, with a\nmoderate care would come to a very tolerable perfection in their\ngardens, and even sugar canes in some places, though these last but\nrarely, and not without great art in the cultivation, and chiefly in\ngardens.\nI was assured, that farther southward, beyond Baldivia, and to the\nlatitude of 47 to 49\u00b0, the lands were esteemed richer than where we now\nwere, the grass more strengthening and nourishing for the cattle, and\nthat, consequently, the black cattle, horses, and hogs, were all of a\nlarger breed. But that, as the Spaniards had no settlement beyond\nBaldivia to the south, so they did not find the natives so tractable as\nwhere we then were; where, though the Spaniards were but few, and the\nstrength they had was but small, yet, as upon any occasion they had\nalways been assisted with forces sufficient from St. Jago, and, if need\nwere, even from Peru, so the natives had always been subdued, and had\nfound themselves obliged to submit; and that now they were entirely\nreduced, and were, and had been for several years, very easy and quiet.\nBesides, the plentiful harvest which they made of gold from the\nmountains (which appeared to be the great allurement of the Spaniards),\nhad drawn them rather to settle here than farther southward, being\nnaturally addicted, as my new landlord confessed to me, to reap the\nharvest which had the least labour and hazard attending it, and the most\nprofit.\nNot but that, at the same time, he confessed that he believed and had\nheard that there was as much gold to be found farther to the south, as\nfar as the mountains continued; but that, as I have said, the natives\nwere more troublesome there, and more dangerous, and that the king of\nSpain did not allow troops sufficient to civilize and reduce them.\nI asked him concerning the natives in the country where we were? He told\nme they were the most quiet and inoffensive people, since the Spaniards\nhad reduced them by force, that could be desired; that they were not,\nindeed, numerous or warlike, the warlike and obstinate part of them\nhaving fled farther off to the south, as they were overpowered by the\nSpaniards; that, for those who were left, they lived secure under the\nprotection of the Spanish governor; that they fed cattle and planted the\ncountry, and sold the product of their lands chiefly to the Spaniards;\nbut that they did not covet to be rich, only to obtain clothes, arms,\npowder and shot, which, however, they were suffered to have but\nsparingly, and with good assurance of their fidelity. I asked him if\nthey were not treacherous and perfidious, and if it was not dangerous\ntrusting themselves among them in the mountains, and in the retired\nplaces where they dwelt? He told me that it was quite the contrary; that\nthey were so honest, and so harmless, that he would at any time venture\nto send his two sons into the mountains a-hunting, with each of them a\nChilian for his guide; and let them stay with the said natives two or\nthree nights and days at a time, and be in no uneasiness about them; and\nthat none of them were ever known to do any foul or treacherous thing by\nthe Spaniards, since he had been in that country.\nHaving thus finally informed myself of things, I began now to think it\nwas high time to have a sight of the particulars which I came to inquire\nafter, viz., the passages of the mountains, and the wonders that were to\nbe discovered on the other side; and, accordingly, I took my patron, the\nSpaniard, by himself, and told him that as I was a traveller, and was\nnow in such a remote part of the world, he could not but think I should\nbe glad to see everything extraordinary that was to be seen, that I\nmight be able to give some account of the world when I came into\nEurope, better and differing from what others had done who had been\nthere before me; and that I had a great mind, if he would give me his\nassistance, to enter into the passages and valleys which he had told me\nso much of in the mountains; and, if it was possible, which, indeed, I\nhad always thought it was not, to take a prospect of the world on the\nother side.\nHe told me it was not a light piece of work, and perhaps the discoveries\nmight not answer my trouble, there being little to be seen but steep\nprecipices, inhospitable rocks, and impassable mountains, immuring us on\nevery side, innumerable rills and brooks of water falling from the\ncliffs, making a barbarous and unpleasant sound, and that sound echoed\nand reverberated from innumerable cavities among the rocks, and these\nall pouring down into one middle stream, which we should always find on\none side or other of us as we went; and that sometimes we should be\nobliged to pass those middle streams, as well as the rills and brooks on\nthe sides, without a bridge, and at the trouble of pulling off our\nclothes.\nHe told us that we should meet, indeed, with provisions enough, and with\nan innocent, harmless people, who, according to their ability, would\nentertain us very willingly; but that I, who was a stranger, would be\nsorely put to it for lodging, especially for so many of us.\nHowever, he said, as he had perhaps at first raised this curiosity in\nme, by giving me a favourable account of the place, he would be very far\nfrom discouraging me now; and that, if I resolved to go, he would not\nonly endeavour to make everything as pleasant to me as he could, but\nthat he and his major-domo would go along with me, and see us safe\nthrough and safe home again; but desired me not to be in too much haste,\nfor that he must make some little preparation for the journey, which, as\nhe told us, might perhaps take us up fourteen or sixteen days forward,\nand as much back again; not, he said, that it was necessary that we\nshould be so long going and coming, as that he supposed I would take\ntime to see everything which I might think worth seeing, and not be in\nso much haste as if I was sent express. I told him he was very much in\nthe right; that I did not desire to make a thing which I had expected so\nmuch pleasure in, be a toil to me more than needs must; and, above all,\nthat as I supposed I should not return into these parts very soon, I\nwould not take a cursory view of a place which I expected would be so\nwell worth seeing, and let it be known to all I should speak of it to,\nthat I wanted to see it again before I could give a full account of it.\nWell, seignior, says he, we will not be in haste, or view it by halves;\nfor, if wild and uncouth places be a diversion to you, I promise myself\nyour curiosity shall be fully gratified; but as to extraordinary things,\nrarities in nature, and surprising incidents, which foreigners expect, I\ncannot say much to those. However, what think you, seignior, says he, if\nwe should take a tour a little way into the entrance of the hills which\nI showed you the other day, and look upon the gate of this gulf? Perhaps\nyour curiosity may be satisfied with the first day's prospect, which I\nassure you will be none of the most pleasant, and you may find yourself\nsick of the enterprise.\nI told him, no; I was so resolved upon the attempt, since he, who I was\nsatisfied would not deceive me, had represented it as so feasible, and\nespecially since he had offered to conduct me through it, that I would\nnot, for all the gold that was in the mountains, lay it aside. He shook\nhis head at that expression, and, smiling at the doctor, says he, This\ngentleman little thinks that there is more gold in these mountains, nay,\neven in this part where we are, than there is above ground in the whole\nworld. Partly understanding what he said, I answered, my meaning was to\nlet him see that nothing could divert me from the purpose of viewing the\nplace, unless he himself forbade me, which I hoped he would not; and\nthat, as for looking a little way into the passage, to try if the horror\nof the place would put a check to my curiosity, I would not give him\nthat trouble, seeing, the more terrible and frightful, the more\ndifficult and impracticable it was, provided it could be mastered at\nlast, the more it would please me to attempt and overcome it.\nNay, nay, seignior, said he, pleasantly, there is nothing difficult or\nimpracticable in it, nor is it anything but what the country people, and\neven some of our nation, perform every day; and that not only by\nthemselves, either for sport in pursuit of game, but even with droves of\ncattle, which they go with from place to place, as to a market or a\nfair; and, therefore, if the horror of the cliffs and precipices, the\nnoises of the volcanos, the fire, and such things as you may hear and\nsee above you, will not put a stop to your curiosity, I assure you, you\nshall not meet with anything impassable or impracticable below, nor\nanything but, with the assistance of God and the Blessed Virgin (and\nthen he crossed himself, and so we did all), we shall go cheerfully\nover.\nFinding, therefore, that I was thus resolutely bent upon the enterprise,\nbut not in the least guessing at my design, he gave order to have\nservants and mules provided, for mules are much fitter to travel among\nthe hills than horses; and, in four days he promised to be ready for a\nmarch.\nI had nothing to do in all these four days but to walk abroad, and, as\nwe say, look about me; but I took this opportunity to give instructions\nto my two midshipmen, who were called my servants, in what they were to\ndo.\nFirst, I charged them to make landmarks, bearings, and beacons, as we\nmight call them, upon the rocks above them, and at every turning in the\nway below them, also at the reaches and windings of the rivers and\nbrooks, falls of water, and everything remarkable, and to keep each of\nthem separate and distinct journals of those things, not only to find\nthe way back again by the same steps, but that they might be able to\nfind that way afterwards by themselves, and without guides, which was\nthe foundation and true intent of all the rest of my undertaking; and,\nas I knew these were both capable to do it, and had courage and fidelity\nto undertake it, I had singled them out for the attempt, and had made\nthem fully acquainted with my whole scheme, and, consequently, they knew\nthe meaning and reason of my present discourse with them. They promised\nnot to fail to show me a plan of the hills, with the bearings of every\npoint, one with another, where every step was to be taken, and every\nturning to the right hand or to the left, and such a journal, I believe,\nwas never seen before or since, but it is too long for this place. I\nshall, however, take out the heads of it as I proceed, which may serve\nas a general description of the place.\nThe evening of the fourth day, as he had appointed, my friend, the\nSpaniard, let me know, that he was ready to set out, and accordingly we\nbegan our cavalcade. My retinue consisted of six, as before, and we had\nmules provided for us; my two midshipmen, as servants, had two mules\ngiven them also for their baggage, the Spaniard had six also, viz., his\ngentleman, or, as I called him before, his major-domo, on horseback,\nthat is to say, on muleback, with mules for his baggage, and four\nservants on foot. Just before we set out, his gentleman brought each of\nus a fuzee, and our two servants each a harquebuss, or short musket,\nwith cartouches, powder, and ball, together with a pouch and small shot,\nsuch as we call swan-shot, for fowls or deer, as we saw occasion.\nI was as well pleased with this circumstance as with any my landlord had\ndone, because I had not so entire a confidence in the native Chilians as\nhe had; but I saw plainly, some time after, that I was wrong, for\nnothing could be more honest, quiet, and free from design, than those\npeople, except the poor honest people where we dressed up the king and\nqueen, as already mentioned.\nWe were late in the morning before we got out, having all this equipage\nto furnish, and, travelling very gently, it was about two hours before\nsunset when we came to the entrance of the mountains, where, to my\nsurprise, I found we were to go in upon a level, without any ascent, at\nleast that was considerable. We had, indeed, gone up upon a sharp\nascent, for near two miles, before we came to the place.\nThe entrance was agreeable enough, the passage being near half a mile\nbroad. On the left hand was a small river, whose channel was deep, but\nthe water shallow, there having been but little rain for some time; the\nwater ran very rapid, and, as my Spaniard told me, was sometimes\nexceeding fierce. The entrance lay inclining a little south, and was so\nstraight, that we could see near a mile before us; but the prodigious\nheight of the hills on both sides, and before us, appearing one over\nanother, gave such a prospect of horror, that I confess it was frightful\nat first to look on the stupendous altitude of the rocks; everything\nabove us looking one higher than another was amazing; and to see how in\nsome places they hung over the river, and over the passage, it created a\ndread of being overwhelmed with them.\nThe rocks and precipices of the Andes, on our right hand, had here and\nthere vast cliffs and entrances, which looked as if they had been\ndifferent thoroughfares; but, when we came to look full into them, we\ncould see no passage at the farther end, and that they went off in\nslopes, and with gulleys made by the water, which, in hasty rains, came\npouring down from the hills, and which, at a distance, made such noises\nas it is impossible to conceive, unless by having seen and heard the\nlike before; for the water, falling from a height twenty times as high\nas our own Monument, and, perhaps, much higher, and meeting in the\npassage with many dashes and interruptions, it is impossible to describe\nhow the sound, crossing and interfering, mingled itself, and the several\nnoises sunk one into another, increasing the whole, as the many waters\njoining increased the main stream.\nWe entered this passage about two miles the first night; after the first\nlength, which as I said, held about three quarters of a mile, we turned\naway to the south, short on the right hand; the river leaving us, seemed\nto come through a very narrow but deep hollow of the mountains, where\nthere was little more breadth at the bottom than the channel took up,\nthough the rocks inclined backward as they ascended, as placed in\nseveral stages, though all horrid and irregular; and we could see\nnothing but blackness and terror all the way. I was glad our passage did\nnot turn on that side, but wondered that we should leave the river, and\nthe more when I found, that in the way we went, having first mounted\ngently a green pleasant slope, it declined again, and we saw a new\nrivulet begin in the middle, and the water running south-east or\nthereabouts. This discovery made me ask if the water went away into the\nnew world beyond the hills? My patron smiled, and said, No seignior, not\nyet; we shall meet with the other river again very quickly; and so we\nfound it again the next morning.\nWhen we came a little farther, we found the passage open, and we came to\na very pleasant plain, which declined a little gradually, widening to\nthe left, or east side; on the right side of this we saw another vast\nopening like the first, which went in about half a mile, and then closed\nup as the first had done, sloping up to the top of the hills, a most\nastonishing inconceivable height.\nMy patron stopping here, and getting down, or alighting from his mule,\ngave him to his man, and asking me to alight, told me this was the first\nnight's entertainment I was to meet with in the Andes, and hoped I was\nprepared for it. I told him, that I might very well consent to accept of\nsuch entertainment, in a journey of my own contriving, as he was content\nto take up with, in compliment to me.\nI looked round to see if there were any huts or cots of the\nmountaineers thereabouts, but I perceived none; only I observed\nsomething like a house, and it was really a house of some of the said\nmountaineers, upon the top of a precipice as high from where we stood,\nas the summit of the cupola of St. Paul's, and I saw some living\ncreatures, whether men or women I could not tell, looking from thence\ndown upon us. However, I understood afterwards that they had ways to\ncome at their dwelling, which were very easy and agreeable, and had\nlanes and plains where they fed their cattle, and had everything growing\nthat they desired.\nMy patron, making a kind of an invitation to me to walk, took me up that\ndark chasm, or opening, on the right hand, which I have just mentioned.\nHere, sir, said he, if you will venture to walk a few steps, it is\nlikely we may show you some of the product of this country; but,\nrecollecting that night was approaching, he added, I see it is too dark;\nperhaps it will be better to defer it till the morning. Accordingly, we\nwalked back towards the place where we had left our mules and servants,\nand, when we came thither, there was a complete camp fixed, three very\nhandsome tents raised, and a bar set up at a distance, where the mules\nwere tied one to another to graze, and the servants and the baggage lay\ntogether, with an open tent over them.\nMy patron led me into the first tent, and told me he was obliged to let\nme know that I must make a shift with that lodging, the place not\naffording any better.\nHere we had quilts laid very commodiously for me and my three comrades,\nand we lodged very comfortably; but, before we went to rest, we had the\nthird tent to go to, in which there was a very handsome table, covered\nwith a cold treat of roasted mutton and beef, very well dressed, some\npotted or baked venison, with pickles, conserves, and fine sweetmeats of\nvarious sorts.\nHere we ate very freely, but he bade us depend upon it that we should\nnot fare so well the next night, and so it would be worse every night,\ntill we came to lie entirely at a mountaineer's; but he was better to us\nthan he pretended.\nIn the morning, we had our chocolate as regularly as we used to have it\nin his own house, and we were soon ready to pursue our journey. We went\nwinding now from the south-east to the left, till our course looked east\nby north, when we came again to have the river in view. But I should\nhave observed here, that my two midshipmen, and two of my patron's\nservants, had, by his direction, been very early in the morning climbing\nup the rocks in the opening on the right hand, and had come back again\nabout a quarter of an hour after we set out; when, missing my two men, I\ninquired for them, and my patron said they were coming; for, it seems he\nsaw them at a distance, and so we halted for them.\nWhen they were come almost up to us, he called to his men in Spanish, to\nask if they had had Una bon vejo? They answered, Poco, poco; and when\nthey came quite up, one of my midshipmen showed me three or four small\nbits of clean perfect gold, which they had picked up in the hill or\ngullet where the water trickled down from the rocks; and the Spaniard\ntold them that, had they had time, they should have found much more, the\nwater being quite down, and nobody having been there since the last hard\nrain. One of the Spaniards had three small bits in his hand also. I said\nnothing for the present, but charged my midshipmen to mark the place,\nand so we went on.\nWe followed up the stream of this water for three days more, encamping\nevery night as before, in which time we passed by several such openings\ninto the rocks on either side. On the fourth day we had the prospect of\na very pleasant valley and river below us, on the north side, keeping\nits course almost in the middle; the valley reaching near four miles in\nlength, and in some places near two miles broad.\nThis sight was perfectly surprising, because here we found the vale\nfruitful, level, and inhabited, there being several small villages or\nclusters of houses, such as the Chilians live in, which are low houses,\ncovered with a kind of sedge, and sheltered with little rows of thick\ngrown trees, but of what kind we knew not.\nWe saw no way through the valley, nor which way we were to go out, but\nperceived it everywhere bounded with prodigious mountains, look to which\nside of it we would. We kept still on the right, which was now the\nsouth-east side of the river, and as we followed it up the stream, it\nwas still less than at first, and lessened every step we went, because\nof the number of rills we left behind us; and here we encamped the fifth\ntime, and all this time the Spanish gentleman victualled us; then we\nturned again to the right, where we had a new and beautiful prospect of\nanother valley, as broad as the other, but not above a mile in length.\nAfter we had passed through this valley, my patron rode up to a poor\ncottage of a Chilian Indian without any ceremony, and calling us all\nabout him, told us that there we would go to dinner. We saw a smoke\nindeed _in_ the house, rather than coming _out_ of it; and the little\nthat did, smothered through a hole in the roof instead of a chimney.\nHowever, to this house, as an inn, my patron had sent away his\nmajor-domo and another servant; and there they were, as busy as two\nprofessed cooks, boiling and stewing goats' flesh and fowls, making up\nsoups, broths, and other messes, which it seems they were used to\nprovide, and which, however homely the cottage was, we found very\nsavoury and good.\nImmediately a loose tent was pitched, and we had our table set up, and\ndinner served in; and afterwards, having reposed ourselves (as the\ncustom there is), we were ready to travel again.\nI had leisure all this while to observe and wonder at the admirable\nstructure of this part of the country, which may serve, in my opinion,\nfor the eighth wonder of the world; that is to say, supposing there were\nbut seven before. We had in the middle of the day, indeed, a very hot\nsun, and the reflection from the mountains made it still hotter; but the\nheight of the rocks on every side began to cast long shadows before\nthree o'clock, except where the openings looked towards the west; and as\nsoon as those shadows reached us, the cool breezes of the air came\nnaturally on, and made our way exceeding pleasant and refreshing.\nThe place we were in was green and flourishing, and the soil well\ncultivated by the poor industrious Chilians, who lived here in perfect\nsolitude, and pleased with their liberty from the tyranny of the\nSpaniards, who very seldom visited them, and never molested them, being\npretty much out of their way, except when they came for hunting and\ndiversion, and then they used the Chilians always civilly, because they\nwere obliged to them for their assistance in their diversions, the\nChilians of those valleys being very active, strong, and nimble fellows.\nBy this means most of them were furnished with fire-arms, powder, and\nshot, and were very good marksmen; but, as to violence against any one,\nthey entertained no thought of that kind, as I could perceive, but were\ncontent with their way of living, which was easy and free.\nThe tops of the mountains here, the valleys being so large, were much\nplainer to be seen than where the passages were narrow, for there the\nheight was so great that we could see but little. Here, at several\ndistances (the rocks towering one over another), we might see smoke come\nout of some, snow lying upon others, trees and bushes growing all\naround; and goats, wild asses, and other creatures, which we could\nhardly distinguish, running about in various parts of the country.\nWhen we had passed through this second valley, I perceived we came to a\nnarrower passage, and something like the first; the entrance into it\nindeed was smooth, and above a quarter of a mile broad, and it went\nwinding away to the north, and then again turned round to the\nnorth-east, afterwards almost due-east, and then to the south-east, and\nso to south-south-east; and this frightful narrow strait, with the\nhanging rocks almost closing together on the top, whose height we could\nneither see nor guess at, continued about three days' journey more, most\nof the way ascending gently before us. As to the river, it was by this\ntime quite lost; but we might see, that on any occasion of rain, or of\nthe melting of the snow on the mountains, there was a hollow in the\nmiddle of the valley through which the water made its way, and on either\nhand, the sides of the hills were full of the like gulleys, made by the\nviolence of the rain, where, not the earth only, but the rocks\nthemselves, even the very stone, seemed to be worn and penetrated by the\ncontinual fall of the water.\nHere my patron showed me, that in the hollow which I mentioned in the\nmiddle of this way, and at the bottom of those gulleys, or places worn\nas above in the rocks, there were often found pieces of gold, and\nsometimes, after a rain, very great quantities; and that there were few\nof the little Chilian cottages which I had seen where they had not\nsometimes a pound or two of gold dust and lumps of gold by them, and he\nwas mistaken, if I was willing to stay and make the experiment, if we\ndid not find some even then, in a very little search.\nThe Chilian mountaineer at whose house we stopped to dine had gone with\nus, and he hearing my patron say thus, ran presently to the hollow\nchannel in the middle, where there was a kind of fail or break in it,\nwhich the water, by falling perhaps two or three feet, had made a hollow\ndeeper than the rest, and which, though there was no water then running,\nyet had water in it, perhaps the quantity of a barrel or two. Here, with\nthe help of two of the servants and a kind of scoop, he presently threw\nout the water, with the sand, and whatever was at bottom among it, into\nthe ordinary watercourse; the water falling thus hard, every scoopful\nupon the sand or earth that came out of the scoop before it, washed a\ngreat deal of it away; and among that which remained, we might plainly\nsee little lumps of gold shining as big as grains of sand, and sometimes\none or two a little bigger.\nThis was demonstration enough to us. I took up some small grains of it,\nabout the quantity of half a quarter of an ounce, and left my midshipmen\nto take up more, and they stayed indeed so long, that they could scarce\nsee their way to overtake us, and brought away about two ounces in all,\nthe Chilian and the servants freely giving them all they found.\nWhen we had travelled about nine miles more in this winding frightful\nnarrow way, it began to grow towards night, and my patron talked of\ntaking up our quarters as we had before; but his gentleman put him in a\nmind of a Chilian, one of their old servants, who lived in a turning\namong the mountains, about half a mile out of our way, and where we\nmight be accommodated with a house, or place at least, for our cookery.\nVery true, says our patron, we will go thither; and there, seignior,\nsays he, turning to me, you shall see an emblem of complete felicity,\neven in the middle of this seat of horror; and you shall see a prince\ngreater, and more truly so, than King Philip, who is the greatest man in\nthe world.\nAccordingly we went softly on, his gentleman having advanced before, and\nin about half a mile we found a turning or opening on our left, where we\nbeheld a deep large valley, almost circular, and of about a mile\ndiameter, and abundance of houses or cottages interspersed all over it,\nso that the whole valley looked like an inhabited village, and the\nground like a planted garden.\nWe who, as I said, had been for some miles ascending, were so high above\nthe valley, that it looked as the lowlands in England do below Box Hill\nin Surrey; and I was going to ask how we should get down? but, as we\nwere come into a wider space than before, so we had more daylight; for\nthough the hollow way had rendered it near dusk before, now it was\nalmost clear day again.\nHere we parted with the first Chilian that I mentioned, and I ordered\none of my midshipmen to give him a hat, and a piece of black baize,\nenough to make him a cloak, which so obliged the man that he knew not\nwhat way to testify his joy; but I knew what I was doing in this, and I\nordered my midshipman to do it that he might make his acquaintance with\nhim against another time, and it was not a gift ill bestowed, as will\nappear in its place.\nWe were now obliged to quit our mules, who all took up their quarters at\nthe top of the hill, while we, by footings made in the rocks, descended,\nas we might say, down a pair of stairs of half a mile long, but with\nmany plain places between, like foot-paces, for the ease of going and\ncoming.\nThus, winding and turning to avoid the declivity of the hill, we came\nvery safe to the bottom, where my patron's gentleman brought our new\nlandlord, that was to be, who came to pay his compliments to us.\nHe was dressed in a jerkin made of otter-skin, like a doublet, a pair of\nlong Spanish breeches, of leather dressed after the Spanish fashion,\ngreen, and very soft, and which looked very well, but what the skin was,\nI could not guess; he had over it a mantle of a kind of cotton, dyed in\ntwo or three grave brown colours, and thrown about him like a Scotsman's\nplaid; he had shoes of a particular make, tied on like sandals,\nflat-heeled, no stockings, his breeches hanging down below the calf of\nhis leg, and his shoes lacing up above his ancles. He had on a cap of\nthe skin of some small beast like a racoon, with a bit of the tail\nhanging out from the crown of his head backward, a long pole in his\nhand, and a servant, as oddly dressed as himself, carried his gun; he\nhad neither spado nor dagger.\nWhen our patron came up, the Chilian stepped forward and made him three\nvery low bows, and then they talked together, not in Spanish, but in a\nkind of mountain jargon, some Spanish, and some Chilian, of which I\nscarce understood one word. After a few words, I understood he said\nsomething of a stranger come to see, and then, I supposed, added, the\npassages of the mountains; then the Chilian came towards me, made me\nthree bows, and bade me welcome in Spanish. As soon as he had said\nthat, he turns to his barbarian, I mean his servant, for he was as ugly\na looked fellow as ever I saw, and taking his gun from him presented it\nto me. My patron bade me take it, for he saw me at a loss what to do,\ntelling me that it was the greatest compliment that a Chilian could pay\nto me; he would be very ill pleased and out of humour if it was not\naccepted, and would think we did not want to be friendly with him.\nAs we had not given this Chilian any notice of our coming, more than a\nquarter of an hour, we could not expect great matters of entertainment,\nand, as we carried our provision with us, we did not stand in much need\nof it; but we had no reason to complain.\nThis man's habitation was the same as the rest, low, and covered with a\nsedge, or a kind of reed which we found grew very plentifully in the\nvalley where he lived; he had several pieces of ground round his\ndwelling, enclosed with walls made very artificially with small stones\nand no mortar; these enclosed grounds were planted with several kinds of\ngarden-stuff for his household, such as plantains, Spanish cabbages,\ngreen cocoa, and other things of the growth of their own country, and\ntwo of them with European wheat.\nHe had five or six apartments in his house, every one of them had a door\ninto the open air, and into one another, and two of them were very large\nand decent, had long tables on one side, made after their own way, and\nbenches to sit to them, like our country people's long tables in\nEngland, and mattresses like couches all along the other side, with\nskins of several sorts of wild creatures laid on them to repose on in\nthe heat of the day, as is the usage among the Spaniards.\nOur people set up their tents and beds abroad as before; but my patron\ntold me the Chilian would take it very ill if he and I did not take up\nour lodging in his house, and we had two rooms provided, very\nmagnificent in their way.\nThe mattress we lay on had a large canopy over it, spread like the crown\nof a tent, and covered with a large piece of cotton, white as milk, and\nwhich came round every way like a curtain, so that if it had been in the\nopen field it would have been a complete covering. The bed, such as it\nwas, might be nearly as hard as a quilt, and the covering was of the\nsame cotton as the curtain-work, which, it seems, is the manufacture of\nthe Chilian women, and is made very dexterously; it looked wild, but\nagreeably enough, and proper to the place, so I slept very comfortably\nin it.\nBut, I must confess, I was surprised at the aspect of things in the\nnight here. It was, as I told you above, near night when we came to this\nman's cottage (palace I should have called it), and, while we were\ntaking our repast, which was very good, it grew quite night.\nWe had wax candles brought in to accommodate us with light, which, it\nseems, my patron's man had provided; and the place had so little\ncommunication with the air by windows, that we saw nothing of what was\nwithout doors.\nAfter supper my patron turned to me and said, Come, seignior, prepare\nyourself to take a walk. What! in the dark, said I, in such a country as\nthis? No, no, says he, it is never dark here, you are now come to the\ncountry of everlasting day; what think you? is not this Elysium? I do\nnot understand you, answered I. But you will presently, says he, when I\nshall show you that it is now lighter abroad than when we came in. Soon\nafter this some of the servants opened the door that went into the next\nroom, and the door of that room, which opened in the air, stood open,\nfrom whence a light of fire shone into the outer room, and so farther\ninto ours. What are they burning there? said I to my patron. You will\nsee presently, says he, adding, I hope you will not be surprised, and\nthen he led me to the outer door.\nBut who can express the thoughts of a man's heart, coming on a sudden\ninto a place where the whole world seemed to be on fire! The valley was,\non one side, so exceeding bright the eye could scarce bear to look at\nit; the sides of the mountains were shining like the fire itself; the\nflame from the top of the mountain on the other side casting its light\ndirectly upon them. From thence the reflection into other parts looked\nred, and more terrible; for the first was white and clear, like the\nlight of the sun; but the other, being, as it were, a reflection of\nlight mixed with some darker cavities, represented the fire of a\nfurnace; and, in short, it might well be said here was no darkness; but\ncertainly, at the first view, it gives a traveller no other idea than\nthat of being at the very entrance into eternal horror.\nAll this while there was no fire, that is to say, no real flame to be\nseen, only, that where the flame was it shone clearly into the valley;\nbut the vulcano, or vulcanoes, from whence the fire issued out (for it\nseems there was no less than three of them, though at the distance of\nsome miles from one another), were on the south and east sides of the\nvalley, which was so much on that side where we were, that we could see\nnothing but the light; neither on the other side could they see any\nmore, it seems, than just the top of the flame, not knowing anything of\nthe places from whence it issued out, which no mortal creature, no, not\nof the Chilians themselves, were ever hardy enough to go near. Nor would\nit be possible, if any should attempt it, the tops of the hills, for\nmany leagues about them, being covered with new mountains of ashes and\nstones, which are daily cast out of the mouths of those volcanoes, by\nwhich they grew every day higher than they were before, and which would\noverwhelm, not only men, but whole armies of men, if they should venture\nto come near them.\nWhen first we came into the long narrow way I mentioned last, I\nobserved, as I thought, the wind blew very hard aloft among the hills,\nand that it made a noise like thunder, which I thought nothing of, but\nas a thing usual. But now, when I came to this terrible sight, and that\nI heard the same thunder, and yet found the air calm and quiet, I soon\nunderstood that it was a continued thunder, occasioned by the roaring of\nthe fire in the bowels of the mountains.\nIt must be some time, as may be supposed, before a traveller,\nunacquainted with such things, could make them familiar to him; and\nthough the horror and surprise might abate, after proper reflections on\nthe nature and reason of them, yet I had a kind of astonishment upon me\nfor a great while; every different place to which I turned my eye\npresented me with a new scene of horror. I was for some time frighted at\nthe fire being, as it were, over my head, for I could see nothing of it;\nbut that the air looked as if it were all on fire; and I could not\npersuade myself but it would cast down the rocks and mountains on my\nhead; but I was laughed out of that notion by the company.\nAfter a while, I asked them if these volcanoes did not cast out a kind\nof liquid fire, as I had seen an account of on the eruptions at\nMount-\u00c6tna, which cast out, as we are told, a prodigious stream of fire,\nand run several leagues into the sea?\nUpon my putting this question to my patron, he asked the Chilian how\nlong ago it was since such a stream, calling it by a name of their own,\nran fire? He answered, it ran now, and if we were disposed to walk but\nthree furlongs we should see it.\nHe said little to me, but asked me if I cared to walk a little way by\nthis kind of light? I told him it was a surprising place we were in, but\nI supposed he would lead me into no danger.\nHe said he would assure me he would lead me into no danger; that these\nthings were very familiar to them, but that I might depend there was no\nhazard, and that the flames which gave all this light were six or seven\nmiles off, and some of them more.\nWe walked along the plain of the valley about half a mile, when another\ngreat valley opened to the right, and gave us a more dreadful prospect\nthan any we had seen before; for at the farther end of this second\nvalley, but at the distance of three miles from where we stood, we saw a\nlivid stream of fire come running down the sides of the mountain for\nnear three quarters of a mile in length, running like melted metal into\na mould, until, I supposed, as it came nearer the bottom, it cooled and\nseparated, and so went out of itself.\nBeyond this, over the summit of a prodigious mountain, we could see the\ntops of the clear flame of a volcano, a dreadful one, no doubt, could we\nhave seen it all; and from the mouth of which it was supposed this\nstream of fire came, though the Chilian assured us that the fire itself\nwas eight leagues off, and that the liquid fire which we saw came out of\nthe side of the mountain, and was two leagues from the great volcano\nitself, running like liquid metal out of a furnace.\nThey told me there was a great deal of melted gold ran down with the\nother inflamed earth in that stream, and that much of the metal was\nafterwards found there; but this I was to take upon trust.\nThe sight, as will easily be supposed, was best at a distance, and,\nindeed, I had enough of it. As for my two midshipmen, they were almost\nfrightened out of all their resolutions of going any farther in this\nhorrible place; and when we stopped they came mighty seriously to me,\nand begged, for God's sake, not to venture any farther upon the faith of\nthese Spaniards, for that they would certainly carry us all into some\nmischief or other, and betray us.\nI bade them be easy, for I saw nothing in it all that looked like\ntreachery; that it was true, indeed, it was a terrible place to look on,\nbut it seemed to be no more than what was natural and familiar there,\nand we should be soon out of it.\nThey told me very seriously that they believed it was the mouth of hell,\nand that, in short, they were not able to bear it, and entreated me to\ngo back. I told them I could not think of that, but if they could not\nendure it, I would give consent that they should go back in the morning.\nHowever, we went for the present to the Chilian's house again, where we\ngot a plentiful draught of Chilian wine, for my patron had taken care to\nhave a good quantity of it with us; and in the morning my two\nmidshipmen, who got very drunk over night, had courage enough to venture\nforward again; for the light of the sun put quite another face upon\nthings, and nothing of the fire was then to be seen, only the smoke.\nAll our company lodged in the tents here, but myself and my patron, the\nSpaniard, who lodged within the Chilian's house, as I have said.\nThis Chilian was a great man among the natives, and all the valley I\nspoke of, which lay round his dwelling, was called his own. He lived in\na perfect state of tranquility, neither enjoying or coveting anything\nbut what was necessary, and wanting nothing that was so. He had gold\nmerely for the trouble of picking it up, for it was found in all the\nlittle gulleys and rills of water which, as I have said, came down from\nthe mountains on every side; yet I did not find that he troubled himself\nto lay up any great quantity, more than served to go to Villa Rica and\nbuy what he wanted for himself and family.\nHe had, it seems, a wife and some daughters, but no sons; these lived in\na separate house, about a furlong from that where he lived, and were\nkept there as a family by themselves, and if he had any sons they would\nhave lived with him.\nHe did not offer to go with us any part of our way, as the other had\ndone, but, having entertained us with great civility, took his leave. I\ncaused one of my midshipmen to make him a present, when we came away, of\na piece of black baize, enough to make him a cloak, as I did the other,\nand a piece of blue English serge, enough to make him a jerkin and\nbreeches, which he accepted as a great bounty.\nWe set out again, though not very early in the morning, having, as I\nsaid, sat up late, and drank freely over night, and we found, that\nafter we had been gone to sleep it had rained very hard, and though the\nrain was over before we went out, yet the falling of the water from the\nhills made such a confused noise, and was echoed so backward and forward\nfrom all sides, that it was like a strange mixture of distant thunder,\nand though we knew the causes, yet it could not but be surprising to us\nfor awhile.\nHowever, we set forward, the way under foot being pretty good; and first\nhe went up the steps again by which we had come down, our last host\nwaiting on us thither, and there I gave him back his gun, for he would\nnot take it before.\nIn this valley, which was the pleasantest by day and the most dismal by\nnight that ever I saw, I observed abundance of goats, as well tame in\nthe enclosures, as wild upon the rocks; and we found afterwards, that\nthe last were perfectly wild, and to be had, like those at Juan\nFernandez, by any one who could catch them. My patron sent off two of\nhis men, just as a huntsman casts off his hounds, to go and catch goats,\nand they brought us in three, which they shot in less than half an hour,\nand these we carried with us for our evening supply; for we made no\ndinner this day, having fed heartily in the morning about nine, and had\nchocolate two hours before that.\nWe travelled now along the narrow winding passage, which I mentioned\nbefore, for about four hours, until I found, that though we had ascended\nbut gently, yet that, as we had done so for almost twenty miles\ntogether, we were got up to a frightful height, and I began to expect\nsome very difficult descent on the other side; but we were made easy\nabout two o'clock, when the way not only declined again to the east, but\ngrew wider, though with frequent turnings and windings about, so that we\ncould seldom see above half a mile before us.\nWe went on thus pretty much on a level, now rising, now falling; but\nstill I found that we were a very great height from our first entrance,\nand, as to the running of the water, I found that it flowed neither east\nnor west, but ran all down the little turnings that we frequently met\nwith on the north side of our way, which my patron told me fell all into\nthe great valley where we saw the fire, and so passed off by a general\nchannel north-west, until it found its way out into the open country of\nChili, and so to the South Seas.\nWe were now come to another night's lodging, which we were obliged to\ntake up with on the green grass, as we did the first night; but, by the\nhelp of our proveditor-general, my patron, we fared very well, our\ngoat's flesh being reduced into so many sorts of venison, that none of\nus could distinguish it from the best venison we ever tasted.\nHere we slept without any of the frightful things we saw the night\nbefore, except that we might see the light of the fire in the air at a\ngreat distance, like a great city in flames, but that gave us no\ndisturbance at all.\nIn the morning our two hunters shot a deer, or rather a young fawn,\nbefore we were awake, and this was the first we met with in this part of\nour travel, and thus we were provided for dinner even before\nbreakfast-time; as for our breakfast, it was always a Spanish one, that\nis to say, about a pint of chocolate.\nWe set out very merrily in the morning, and we that were Englishmen\ncould not refrain smiling at one another, to think how we passed through\na country where the gold lay in every ditch, as we might call it, and\nnever troubled ourselves so much as to stoop to take it up; so certain\nis it, that it is easy to be placed in a station of life where that very\ngold, the heaping up of which is elsewhere made the main business of\nman's living in the world, would be of no value, and not worth taking\noff from the ground; nay, not of signification enough to make a present\nof, for that was the case here.\nTwo or three yards of Colchester baize, a coarse rug-like manufacture,\nworth in London about 15\u00bd_d._ per yard, was here a present for a man of\nquality, when, for a handful of gold dust, the same person would scarce\nsay, Thank you; or, perhaps, would think himself not kindly treated to\nhave it offered him.\nWe travelled this day pretty smartly, having rested at noon about two\nhours, as before, and, by my calculation, went about twenty-two English\nmiles in all. About five o'clock in the afternoon, we came into a broad,\nplain open place, where, though it was not properly a valley, yet we\nfound it lay very level for a good way together, our way lying almost\neast-south-east. After we had marched so about two miles, I found the\nway go evidently down hill, and, in half a mile more, to our singular\nsatisfaction we found the water from the mountains ran plainly\neastward, and, consequently, to the North Sea.\nWe saw at a distance several huts or houses of the mountaineer\ninhabitants, but went near none of them, but kept on our way, going down\ntwo or three pretty steep places, not at all dangerous, though something\ndifficult.\nWe encamped again the next night as before, and still our good caterer\nhad plenty of food for us; but I observed that the next morning, when we\nset forward, our tents were left standing, the baggage mules tied\ntogether to graze, and our company lessened by all my patron's servants,\nwhich, when I inquired about, he told me he hoped we should have good\nquarters quickly without them.\nI did not understand him for the present, but it unriddled itself soon\nafter; for, though we travelled four days more in that narrow way, yet\nhe always found us lodging at the cottages of the mountaineers.\nThe sixth day we went all day up hill; at last, on a sudden, the way\nturned short east, and opened into a vast wide country, boundless to the\neye every way, and delivered us entirely from the mountains of the\nAndes, in which we had wandered so long.\nAny one may guess what an agreeable surprise this was to us, to whom it\nwas the main end of our travels. We made no question that this was the\nopen country extending to the North, or Atlantic Ocean; but how far it\nwas thither, or what inhabitants it was possessed by, what travelling,\nwhat provisions to be found by the way, what rivers to pass, and whether\nany navigable or not, this our patron himself could not tell us one word\nof, owning frankly to us, that he had never been one step farther than\nthe place where we then stood, and that he had been there only once, to\nsatisfy his curiosity, as I did now.\nI told him, that if I had lived where he did, and had servants and\nprovisions at command as he had, it would have been impossible for me to\nhave restrained my curiosity so far as not to have searched through that\nwhole country to the sea-side long ago. I also told him it seemed to be\na pleasant and fruitful soil, and, no doubt, was capable of cultivations\nand improvements; and, if it had been only to have possessed such a\ncountry in his Catholic majesty's name, it must have been worth while to\nundertake the discovery for the honour of Spain; and that there could\nbe no room to question but his Catholic majesty would have honoured the\nman who should have undertaken such a thing with some particular mark of\nhis favour, which might be of consequence to him and his family.\nHe answered me, as to that, the Spaniards seemed already to have more\ndominions in America than they could keep, and much more than they were\nable to reap the benefit of, and still more infinitely than they could\nimprove, and especially in those parts called South America.\nAnd he, moreover, told me, that it was next to a miracle they could keep\npossession of the place we were in; and, were not the natives so utterly\ndestitute of support from any other part of the world, as not to be able\nto have either arms or ammunition put into their hands, it would be\nimpossible, since I might easily see they were men that wanted not\nstrength of body or courage; and it was evident they did not want\nnumbers, seeing they were already ten thousand natives to one Spaniard,\ntaking the whole country from one end to the other.\nThus you see, seignior, added he, how far we are from improvement in\nthat part of the country which we possess, and many more, which you may\nbe sure are among these vast mountains, and which we never discovered,\nseeing all these valleys and passages among the mountains, where gold is\nto be had in such quantities, and with so much ease, that every poor\nChilian gathers it up with his hands, and may have as much as he\npleases, are all left open, naked, and unregarded, in the possession of\nthe wild mountaineers, who are heathens and savages; and the Spaniards,\nyou see, are so few, and those few so indolent, so slothful, and so\nsatisfied with the gold they get of the Chilians for things of small\nvalue in trade, that all this vast treasure lies unregarded by them.\nNay, continued he, is it not very strange to observe, that, when for our\ndiversion we come into the hills, and among these places where you see\nthe gold is so easily found, we come, as we call it, a-hunting, and\ndivert ourselves more with shooting wild parrots, or a fawn or two, for\nwhich also we ride and run, and make our servants weary themselves more\nthan they would in searching for the gold among the gulleys and holes\nthat the water makes in the rocks, and more than would suffice to find\nfifty, nay, one hundred times the value in gold! To what purpose, then,\nshould we seek the possession of more countries, who are already\npossessed of more land than we can improve, and of more wealth than we\nknow what to do with? Perceiving me very attentive, he went on thus:\nWere these mountains valued in Europe according to the riches to be\nfound in them, the viceroy would obtain orders from the king to have\nstrong forts erected at the entrance in, and at the coming out of them,\nas well on the side of Chili, as here, and strong garrisons maintained\nin them, to prevent foreign nations landing, either on our side in\nChili, or on this side in the North Seas, and taking the possession from\nus. He would then order thirty thousand slaves, negroes or Chilians, to\nbe constantly employed, not only in picking up what gold might be found\nin the channels of the water, which might easily be formed into proper\nreceivers, so as that if any gold washed from the rocks it should soon\nbe found, and be so secured, as that none of it would escape; also\nothers, with miners and engineers, might search into the very rocks\nthemselves, and would no doubt find out such mines of gold, or other\nsecret stores of it in those mountains, as would be sufficient to enrich\nthe world.\nWhile we omit such things as these, seignior, says he, what signifies\nSpain making new acquisitions, or the people of Spain seeking new\ncountries? This vast tract of land you see here, and some hundreds of\nmiles every way which your eye cannot reach to, is a fruitful, pleasant,\nand agreeable part of the creation, but perfectly uncultivated, and most\nof it uninhabited; and any nation in Europe that thinks fit to settle in\nit are free to do so, for anything we are able to do to prevent them.\nBut, seignior, says I, does not his Catholic majesty claim a title to\nthe possession of it? and have the Spaniards no governor over it? nor\nany ports or towns, settlements, or colonies in it, as is the case here\nin Chili? Seignior, replied he, the king of Spain is lord of all\nAmerica, as well that which he possesses as that which he possesses not,\nthat right being given him by the Pope, in the right of his being a\nChristian prince, making new discoveries for propagating the Christian\nfaith among infidels; how far that may pass for a title among the\nEuropean powers I know not. I have heard that it has always passed for a\nmaxim in Europe, that no country which is not planted by any prince or\npeople can be said to belong to them; and, indeed, I cannot say but it\nseems to be rational, that no prince should pretend to any title to a\ncountry where he does not think fit to plant and to keep possession.\nFor, if he leaves the country unpossessed, he leaves it free for any\nother nation to come and possess; and this is the reason why the former\nkings of Spain did not dispute that right of the French to the colonies\nof the Mississipi and Canada, or the right of the English to the Caribee\nislands, or to their colonies of Virginia and New England.\nIn like manner, from the Buenos Ayres, in the Rio de la Plata, which\nlies that way (pointing north-east), to the Fretum Magellanicum, which\nlies that way (pointing south-east), which comprehends a vast number of\nleagues, is called by us Coasta Deserta, being unpossessed by Spain, and\ndisregarded of all our nation; neither is there one Spaniard in it.\nNevertheless, you see how fruitful, how pleasant, and how agreeable a\nclimate it is; how apt for planting and peopling it seems to be, and,\nabove all, what a place of wealth here would be behind them, sufficient,\nand more than enough, both for them and us; for we should have no reason\nto offer them any disturbance, neither should we be in any condition to\ndo it, the passages of the mountains being but few and difficult, as you\nhave seen, and our numbers not sufficient to do anything more than to\nblock them up, to keep such people from breaking in upon our settlements\non the coast of the South Seas.\nI asked him if these notions of his were common among those of his\ncountry who were settled in Chili and Peru? or whether they were his own\nprivate opinions only? I told him I believed the latter, because I found\nhe acted in all his affairs upon generous principles, and was for\npropagating the good of mankind; but, that I questioned whether their\ngovernor of Old Spain, or the sub-governor and viceroy of New Spain,\nacted upon those notions; and, since he had mentioned the Buenos Ayres\nand the Rio de la Plata, I should take that as an example, seeing the\nSpaniards would never suffer any nation to set foot in that great river,\nwhere so many countries might have been discovered, and colonies\nplanted; though, at the same time, they had not possessed, or fully\ndiscovered those places themselves.\nHe answered me, smiling; Seignior, says he, you have given the reason\nfor this yourself, in that very part which you think is a reason against\nit. We have a colony at Buenos Ayres, and at the city of Ascension,\nhigher up in the Rio de la Plata, and we are not willing to let any\nother nation settle there, because we would not let them see how weak we\nare, and what a vast extent of land we possess there with a few men; and\nthis for two reasons:\nFirst, We are possessed of the country, and daily increasing there, and\nmay in time extend ourselves farther. The great rivers Parana and\nParaguay being yet left for us to plant in, and we are not willing to\nput ourselves out of a capacity of planting farther, and therefore we\nkeep the possession.\nSecondly, We have a communication from thence with Peru. The great river\nla Plata rises at the city of that name, and out of the mountain Potosi,\nin Peru, and a great trade is carried on by that river, and it would be\ndangerous to let foreigners into the secret of that trade, which they\nmight entirely cut off, especially when they should find how small a\nnumber of Spaniards are planted there to preserve it, seeing there are\nnot six hundred Spaniards in all that vast country, which, by the course\nof that river, is more than one thousand six hundred miles in length.\nI confess, said I, these are just grounds for your keeping the\npossession of that river. They are so, said he, and the more because of\nso powerful a colony as the Portuguese have in the Brazils, which bound\nimmediately upon it, and who are always encroaching upon it from the\nland side, and would gladly have a passage up the Rio Parana to the back\nof their colony.\nBut here, seignior, says he, the case differs; for we neither take nor\nkeep possession here, neither have we one Spaniard, as I said, in the\nwhole country now before you, and therefore we call this country Coasta\nDeserta. Not that it is a desert, as that name is generally taken to\nsignify, a barren, sandy, dry country; on the contrary, the infinite\nprodigious increase of the European black cattle which were brought by\nthe Spaniards to the Buenos Ayres, and suffered to run loose, is a\nsufficient testimony of the fruitfulness and richness of the soil, their\nnumbers being such, that they kill above twenty thousand in a year for\nnothing but the hides, which they carry away to Spain, leaving the\nflesh, though fat and wholesome, to perish on the ground, or be devoured\nby birds of prey.\nAnd the number is so great, notwithstanding all they destroy, that they\nare found to wander sometimes in droves of many thousands together over\nall the vast country between the Rio de la Plata, the city of Ascension,\nand the frontier of Peru, and even down into this country which you see\nbefore us, and up to the very foot of these mountains.\nWell, said I, and is it not a great pity that all this part of the\ncountry, and in such a climate as this is, should lie uncultivated, or\nuninhabited rather? for I understand there are not any great numbers of\npeople to be found among them.\nIt is true, added he, there are some notions prevailing of people being\nspread about in this country, but, as the terror of our people, the\nSpaniards, drove them at first from the seacoast towards these\nmountains, so the greatest part of them continue on this side still, for\ntowards the coast it is very rare that they find any people.\nI would have inquired of him about rivers and navigable streams which\nmight be in this country, but he told me frankly that he could give me\nno account of those; only thus, that if any of the rivers went away\ntowards the north, they certainly run all into the great Rio de la\nPlata; but that if they went east, or southerly, they must go directly\nto the coast, which was ordinarily called, as he said, La Costa Deserta,\nor, as by some, the coast of Patagonia. That, as to the magnitude of\nthose rivers he could say little, but it was reasonable to suppose there\nmust be some very considerable rivers, and whose streams must needs be\ncapable of navigation, seeing abundance of water must continually flow\nfrom the mountains where we then were, and its being at least four\nhundred miles from the sea-side, those small streams must necessarily\njoin together, and form large rivers in the plain country.\nI had enough in this discourse fully to satisfy all my curiosity, and\nsufficiently to heighten my desire of making the farther discoveries\nwhich I had in my thoughts.\nWe pitched our little camp here, and sat down to our repast; for I found\nthat though we were to go back to lodge, yet my patron had taken care we\nshould be furnished sufficiently for dinner, and have a good house to\neat it in, that is to say, a tent as before.\nThe place where we stood, though we had come down hill for a great way,\nyet seemed very high from the ordinary surface of the country, and gave\nus therefore an exceeding fine prospect of it, the country declining\ngradually for near ten miles; and we thought, as well as the distance of\nthe place would allow us, we saw a great river, but, as I learned\nafterwards, it was rather a great lake than a river, which was supplied\nby the smaller rivers, or rivulets, from the mountains, which met there\nas in a great receptacle of waters, and out of this lake they all issued\nagain in one river, of which I shall have occasion to give a farther\naccount hereafter.\nWhile we were at dinner, I ordered my midshipmen to take their\nobservations of every distant object, and to look at everything with\ntheir glasses, which they did, and told me of this lake; but my patron\ncould give no account of it, having never been, as he said before, one\nstep farther that way than where we were.\nHowever, my men showed me plainly that it was a great lake, and that\nthere went a large river from it towards the east-south-east, and this\nwas enough for me, for that way lay all the schemes I had laid.\nI took this opportunity to ask my midshipmen, first, if they had taken\nsuch observations in their passage of the mountains as that they were\nsure they could find their way through to this place again without\nguides? And they assured me they could.\nThen I put it to them whether they thought it might not be practicable\nto travel over that vast level country to the North Seas? and to make a\nsufficient discovery of the country, so as that hereafter Englishmen\ncoming to the coast on the side of those seas, might penetrate to these\ngolden mountains, and reap the benefit of the treasure without going a\nprodigious length above Cape Horn and the Terra del Fuego, which was\nalways attended with innumerable dangers, and without breaking through\nthe kingdom of Chili and the Spaniards' settlements, which, perhaps, we\nmight soon be at peace with, and so be shut out that way by our own\nconsents?\nOne of my men began to speak of the difficulties of such an attempt, the\nwant of provisions, and other dangers which we should be exposed to on\nthe way; but the other, a bold, brisk fellow, told me he made no\nquestion but it might be easily done, and especially because all the\nrivers they should meet with would, of course, run along with us, so\nthat we should be sure to have the tide with us, as he called it; and,\nat last, he added, that he would be content to be one of those men who\nshould undertake it, provided he should be assured that the ships in the\nmean time would not go away, and pretend that they could not be found.\nI told him, we would talk farther about it; that I had such a thought in\nmy head, and a strong inclination to undertake it myself, but that I\ncould not answer it to leave the ships, which depended so much upon my\ncare of the voyage.\nAfter some talk of the reasonableness of such an undertaking, and the\nmethods of performing it, my second midshipman began to come into it,\nand to think it was practicable enough, and added, that though he used\nsome cautions in his first hearing proposals, yet, if he undertook that\nenterprise, I should find that he would do as much of his duty in it as\nanother man; and so he did at last, as will appear in its proper place.\nWe were, by this time, preparing to be satisfied with our journey, and\nmy patron coming to me and asking if I was for returning, I told him I\ncould not say how many days it would be before I should say I had enough\nof that prospect, but that I would return when he pleased, only I had\none question to ask him, which was, whether the mountains were as full\nof gold on this side as they were on the side of Chili?\nAs to that, seignior, says he, the best way to be certain is to make a\ntrial, that you may be sure we do not speak without proof; so he called\nhis gentleman, and another servant that was with him, and desired me to\ncall my two midshipmen, and, speaking something to his own servants\nfirst, in the language of the country, as I supposed, he turned to me,\nand said, Come, let us sit down and rest ourselves, while they go\ntogether, and see what they can do.\nAccordingly, they went away, and, as my men told me afterwards, they\nsearched in the small streams of water which they found running, and in\nsome larger gulleys or channels, where they found little or no water\nrunning, but where, upon hasty rains, great shoots of water had been\nused to run, and where water stood still in the holes and falls, as I\nhave described once before on the like occasion.\nThey had not been gone above an hour, when I plainly heard my two\nEnglishmen halloo, which I could easily distinguish from the voices of\nany other nation, and immediately I ran out of the tent, Captain\nMerlotte followed, and then I saw one of my midshipmen running towards\nus, so we went to meet him, and, what with hallooing and running, he\ncould hardly speak; but, recovering his breath, said, he came to desire\nme to come to them, if I would behold a sight which I never saw in my\nlife.\nI was eager enough to go, so I went with him, and left Captain Merlotte\nto go back to the tent to my patron, the Spaniard, and the Spanish\ndoctor, who had not so much share in the curiosity; he did so, and they\nfollowed soon after.\nWhen we came to the place, we saw such a wonder as indeed I never saw\nbefore, for there they were sitting down round a little puddle, or hole,\nas I might call it, of water, where, in the time of rain, the water\nrunning hastily from a piece of the rock, about two foot higher than the\nrest, had made a pit under it with the fall, like the tail of a mill,\nonly much less.\nHere they took up the sand or gravel with their hands, and every handful\nbrought up with it such a quantity of gold as was surprising; for there\nthey sat picking it out, just as the boys in London, who go with a broom\nand a hat, pick out old iron, nails, and pins from the channels, and it\nlay as thick.\nI stood and looked at them awhile, and it must be confessed, it was a\npleasant sight enough; but, reflecting immediately that there was no end\nof this, and that we were only upon the enquiry, Come away, said I,\nlaughing to my men, and do not stand picking up of trash there all day;\ndo you know how far we have to go to our lodgings?\nI can make no guess what quantity might have been found here in places\nwhich had, for hundreds of years, washed gold from the hills, and,\nperhaps, never had a man come to pick any of it up before; but I was\nsoon satisfied that here was enough, even to make all the world say they\nhad enough; and so I called off my people, and came away.\nIt seems, the quantity of gold which is thus washed down is not small,\nsince my men, inquiring afterwards among the Chilians, heard them talk\nof the great lake of water which I mentioned just now that we saw at a\ndistance, which they call the Golden Lake, and where was, as they said,\nprodigious quantities of it; not that our men supposed any gold was\nthere in mines, or in the ordinary soil, but that the waters from the\nhills, running with very rapid currents at certain times in the rainy\nseasons, and after the melting of the snows, had carried the gold so far\nas that lake; and, as it has been so, perhaps, from the days of the\ngeneral deluge, no people ever applying themselves to gather the least\ngrain of it up again, it might well be increased to such a quantity as\nmight entitle that water to the name of the Golden Lake, and all the\nlittle streams and sluices of water that run into it deserved the name\nof Golden Rivers, as much as that of the Golden Lake.\nBut my present business was to know only if the gold was here, but not\nto trouble myself to pick it up; my views lay another way, and my end\nwas fully answered, so I came back to my patron, and brought all my men\nwith me.\nYou live in a golden country, seignior, says I; my men are stark mad to\nsee so much gold, and nobody to take it.\nShould the world know what treasure you have here, I would not answer\nfor it that they should not flock hither in armies, and drive you all\naway. They need not do that, seignior, says he, for here is enough for\nthem, and for us too.\nWe now packed up, and began our return; but it was not without regret\nthat I turned my back upon this pleasant country, the most agreeable\nplace of its kind that ever I was at in all my life, or ever shall be in\nagain, a country rich, pleasant, fruitful, wholesome, and capable of\neverything for the life of man that the heart could entertain a wish\nfor.\nBut my present work was to return; so we mounted our mules, and had, in\nthe meantime, the pleasure of contemplating what we had seen, and\napplying ourselves to such farther measures as we had concerted among\nus. In about four hours we returned to our camp, as I called it, and, by\nthe way, we found, to our no little pain, that though we had come down\nhill easily and insensibly to the opening for some miles, yet we had a\nhard pull uphill to go back again.\nHowever, we reached to our tents in good time, and made our first\nencampment with pleasure enough, for we were very weary with the fatigue\nof a hard day's journey.\nThe next day we reached our good Chilian's mansion-house, or palace,\nfor such it might be called, considering the place, and considering the\nentertainment; for now he had some time to provide for us, knowing we\nwould come back again.\nHe met us with three mules, and two servants, about a mile before we\ncame to the descent going down to his house, of which I took notice\nbefore, and this he did to guide us a way round to his house without\ngoing down those uneasy steps; so we came on our mules to his door, that\nis to say, on his mules, for he would have my patron, the Spaniard, to\nwhom I observed he showed an extraordinary respect, and Captain Merlotte\nand myself, mount his fresh mules to carry us to his house.\nWhen we came thither, I observed he wanted the assistance of my patron's\nservants for his cookery; for, though he had provided abundance of food,\nhe owned he knew not how to prepare it to our liking, so they assisted\nhim, and one of my midshipmen pretending to cook too, made them roast a\npiece of venison, and a piece of kid, or young goat, admirable well, and\nputting no garlick or onions into the sauce, but their own juices, with\na little wine, it pleased the Spaniard so well, that my man passed for\nan extraordinary cook, and had the favour asked of him to dress some\nmore after the same manner, when we came back to the Spaniard's house.\nWe had here several sorts of wildfowl, which the Chilian had shot while\nwe were gone, but I knew none of them by any of the kinds we have in\nEngland, except some teal. However, they were very good.\nThe day was agreeable and pleasant, but the night dreadful, as before,\nbeing all fire and flame again, and though we understood both what it\nwas, and where, yet I could not make it familiar to me, for my life. The\nChilian persuaded us to stay all the next day, and did his endeavour to\ndivert us as much as possible; my two midshipmen went out with him\na-hunting, as he called it, that is, a-shooting; but, though he was a\nman of fifty years of age, he would have killed ten of them at his\nsport, running up the hills, and leaping from rock to rock like a boy of\nseventeen. At his gun he was so sure a marksman, that he seldom missed\nanything he shot at, whether running, flying, or sitting.\nThey brought home with them several fowls, two fawns, and a full-grown\ndeer, and we had nothing but boiling, stewing, and broiling, all that\nevening. In the afternoon we walked out to view the hills, and to see\nthe stupendous precipices which surrounded us. As for looking for gold,\nwe saw the places where there was enough to be had, but that was become\nnow so familiar to us, that we troubled not ourselves about it, as a\nbusiness not worth our while; but the two midshipmen, I think, got about\nthe quantity of five or six ounces apiece, while we were chatting or\nreposing in the Chilian's house.\nHere it was that I entered into a confidence with my patron, the\nSpaniard, concerning my grand design. I told him, in the first place,\nthat my view of the open country beyond these hills, and the particular\naccount he had given me of it also, had raised a curiosity in me that I\ncould scarce withstand; and that I had thereupon formed a design, which,\nif he would farther me with his assistance, I had a very great mind to\nput in practice, and that, though I was to hazard perishing in the\nattempt.\nHe told me very readily, nothing should be wanting on his part to give\nme any assistance he could, either by himself or any of his servants;\nbut, smiling, and with abundance of good humour, Seignior, says he, I\nbelieve I guess at the design you speak of; you are fired now with a\ndesire to traverse this great country to the Coasta Deserta and the\nNorth Seas; that is a very great undertaking, and you will be well\nadvised before you undertake it.\nTrue, Seignior, said I, you have guessed my design, and, were it not\nthat I have two ships under my care, and some cargo of value on board, I\nwould bring my whole ship's company on shore, and make the adventure,\nand, perhaps, we might be strong enough to defend ourselves against\nwhatever might happen by the way.\nAs to that, seignior, says he, you would be in no danger that would\nrequire so many men; for you will find but few inhabitants anywhere, and\nthose not in numbers sufficient to give you any trouble; fifty men would\nbe as many as you would either want or desire, and, perhaps, as you\nwould find provisions for; and, for fifty men, we might be able to carry\nprovisions with us to keep them from distress. But, if you will accept\nof my advice, as well as assistance, seignior, says he, choose a\nfaithful strong fellow out of your ship on whom you can depend, and give\nhim fifty men with him, or thereabouts, and such instructions as you\nmay find needful, as to the place on the coast where you would have them\nfix their stay, and let them take the first hazards of the adventure;\nand, as you are going round by sea, you will, if success follows, meet\nthem on the shore, and if the account they give of their journey\nencourage you, you may come afterwards yourself up to these very\nmountains, and take a farther view; in which case, he added, with a\nsolemn protestation, cost me what it will, I will come and meet you one\nhundred miles beyond the hills, with supplies of provisions and mules\nfor your assistance.\nThis was such wholesome and friendly advice, and he offered it so\nsincerely, that though it was very little differing from my own design,\nyet I would not be seen so to lessen his prudence in the measures of his\nfriendship in advising it, as to say that I had resolved to do so; but\nmaking all possible acknowledgment to him for his kind offers, I told\nhim I would take his advice, and act just according to the measures he\nhad prescribed; and, at the same time I assured him, that if I found a\nconvenient port to settle and fortify in, I would not fail to come again\nfrom France (for we passed always as acting from France, whatever nation\nwe were of) to relieve and supply them; and that, if ever I returned\nsafe, I would not fail to correspond with him, by the passages of the\nmountains, and make a better acknowledgment for his kindness than I had\nbeen able to do yet.\nHe was going to break off the discourse upon the occasion of the\nChilian's returning, who was just come in from his hunting, telling me,\nhe would talk farther of it by the way; but I told him I could not quite\ndismiss the subject, because I must bespeak him to make some mention of\nit to the Chilian, that he might, on his account, be an assistant to our\nmen, as we saw he was capable of being, in their passing by those\ndifficult ways, and for their supply of provisions, &c. Trouble not\nyourself with that, seignior, said he, for when your men come, the care\nshall be mine; I will come myself as far as this wealthy Chilian's, and\nprocure them all the assistance this place can afford them, and do\nanything that offers to forward them in the undertaking.\nThis was so generous, and so extraordinary, that I had nothing to say\nmore, but to please myself with the apparent success of my attempt, and\nacknowledge the happiness of having an opportunity to oblige so\ngenerous, spirited, and grateful a person.\nI would, however, have made some farther acknowledgment to our Chilian\nbenefactor, but I had nothing left, except a couple of hats, and three\npair of English stockings, one pair silk and the other two worsted, and\nthose I gave him, and made him a great many acknowledgments for the\nfavours he had shown us, and the next morning came away.\nWe made little stay anywhere else in our return; but, making much such\nstages back as we did forward, we came the fourteenth day to our\npatron's house, having made the passage through in something less than\nsixteen days, and the like back in fifteen days, including our stay at\nthe Chilian's, one day.\nThe length of the way, according to the best of my calculations, I\nreckoned to be about one hundred and seventy-five English miles, taking\nit with all its windings and turnings, which were not a few, but which\nhad this conveniency with them, that they gave a more easy and agreeable\npassage, and made the English proverb abundantly good, namely, that the\nfarthest way about is the nearest way home.\nThe civilities I received after this from my generous Spaniard were\nagreeable to the rest of his usage of me; but we, that had so great a\ncharge upon us at the sea-side, could not spare long time in those\nceremonies, any more than I do now for relating them.\nIt is enough to mention, that he would not be excused, at parting, from\ngoing back with us quite to the ships, and when I would have excused it,\nhe said, Nay, seignior, give me leave to go and fetch my hostages. In\nshort, there was no resisting him, so we went all together, after\nstaying two days more at his house, and came all safe to our ships,\nhaving been gone forty-six days from them.\nWe found the ship in very good condition, all safe on board, and well,\nexcept that the men seemed to have contracted something of the scurvy,\nwhich our Spanish doctor, however, soon recovered them from.\nHere we found the two Spanish youths, our patron's hostages, very well\nalso, and very well pleased with their entertainment; one of our\nlieutenants had been teaching them navigation, and something of the\nmathematics, and they made very good improvement in those studies,\nconsidering the time they had been there; and the Spaniard, their\nfather, was so pleased with it, that not having gold enough to offer the\nlieutenant, as an acknowledgment for his teaching them, he gave him a\nvery good ring from his finger, having a fine large emerald in it of\nsome value, and made him a long Spanish compliment for having nothing of\ngreater consequence to offer him.\nWe now made preparations for sailing, and our men, in my absence, had\nlaid in a very considerable supply of provisions, particularly excellent\npork, and tolerable good beef, with a great number of goats and hogs\nalive, as many as we could stow.\nBut I had now my principal undertaking to manage, I mean that of sending\nout my little army for discovery, and, having communicated my design to\nthe supercargo, and the person whom I intrusted with him in the command\nof the ships, they unanimously approved of the scheme. My next business\nwas to resolve upon whom to confer the command of the expedition; and\nthis, by general consent, fell upon the lieutenant of the Madagascar\nship, who had taught the young Spaniards navigation, and this the\nrather, because he was naturally a bold enterprising man, and also an\nexcellent geographer; indeed, he was a general artist, and a man\nfaithful and vigilant in whatever he undertook, nor was it a little\nconsideration with me, that he was so agreeable to the Spaniard and his\nsons, of whose aid we knew he would stand in so much need.\nWhen I had communicated to him the design, and he had both approved of\nthe undertaking itself, and accepted the command, we constituted him\ncaptain, and the two midshipmen we made lieutenants for the expedition,\npromising each of them 500_l._ if they performed it. As for the captain,\nwe came to a good agreement with him for his reward; for I engaged to\ngive him a thousand pounds in gold as soon as we met, if the journey was\nperformed effectually.\nWe then laid open the design to the men, and left it to every one's\nchoice to go, or not to go, as they pleased; but, instead of wanting men\nto go volunteers, we were fain to decide it by lot among some of them,\nthey were all so eager to undertake it.\nThen I gave them articles and conditions, which they who ventured should\nengage themselves to comply with, and particularly, that they should\nnot mutiny, upon pain of being shot to death when we met, or upon the\nspot, if the captain thought it necessary; that they should not straggle\nfrom their company, nor be tempted by the view of picking up gold to\nstay behind, when the company beat to march; that all the gold they\nfound in the way should be common, should be put together in a bulk\nevery night, and be divided faithfully and equally at the end of the\njourney, allowing only five shares to each ship, to be divided as I\nshould direct. Besides which, upon condition that every man behaved\nhimself faithfully and quietly, and did his duty, I promised, that\nbesides the gold he might get by the way, I would give to all one\nhundred pounds each at our meeting; and, if any man was sick, or maimed\nby the way, the rest were to engage not to forsake and leave him on any\naccount whatsoever, death only excepted. And if any man died, except by\nany violence from the rest, his share of the gold which was gotten\nshould be faithfully kept for his family, if he had any; but his reward\nof one hundred pounds, which was not due, because he did not live to\ndemand it, should be divided among the rest; so that by this agreement,\nthe undertaking was not so dear to me as I had expected, for the pay of\nthe men amounted to no more than the sum following, viz.--\nTo the lieutenant, now made captain               \u00a31000\nTo the midshipmen, now made lieutenants, each\nTo the surgeon 200_l._, and his servant\n100_l._, over and above their 100_l._\nas being part of the fifty men                      300\nHaving pitched upon the men, I landed them, and made them encamp on\nshore; but, first of all, I made them every one make wills or letters of\nattorney, or other dispositions, of their effects to such persons as\nthey thought fit, with an account under their hands, endorsed on the\nback of the said wills, &c., intimating what chests or cases or other\nthings they had on board, and what was in them, and what pay was due to\nthem; and those chests, &c., were sealed up before their faces with my\nseal, and writings signed by me, the contents unknown. Thus they were\nsecure that all they had left in the ships, and all that was due to\nthem, should be punctually and carefully kept and delivered as it was\ndesigned and directed by themselves, and this was greatly to their\nsatisfaction.\nAs to the reward of one hundred pounds a man, and the articles about\nkeeping together, obeying orders, gathering up gold, and the like, I did\nnot read to them till they were all on shore, and till I was ready to\nleave them; because, if the rest of the men had heard it, I should have\nkept nobody with me to have sailed the ships.\nThere was as stout a company of bold, young brisk fellows of them, as\never went upon any expedition, fifty-three in number; among them a\nsurgeon and his mate, very skilful and honest men both of them, a\ntrumpeter and a drummer, three ship-carpenters, a cook, who was also a\nbutcher by trade, and a barber, two shoemakers who had been soldiers\namong the pirates, a smith, and a tailor of the same, so that they\nwanted no mechanics, whatever might happen to them.\nGive the fellows their due, they took but little baggage with them; but,\nhowever, what they had, I took care, with the assistance of my patron,\nthe Spaniard, should be as much carried for them as possible.\nI provided them three large tents made of a cotton stuff, which I bought\nin the country, and which we made up on board, which tents were large\nenough to cover them all, in case of rain or heat; but as for beds or\nbedding, they had only seven hammocks, in case any man was sick; for the\nrest, they were to shift as well as they could; the season was hot, and\nthe climate good. Their way lay in the latitude of 40 to 50\u00b0, and they\nset out in the latter end of the month of October, which, on that side\nof the line, is the same as our April; so that the covering was more to\nkeep them from the heat than the cold.\nIt was needful, in order to their defence, to furnish them with arms and\nammunition; so I gave to every man a musket or fuzee, a pistol, and a\nsword, with cartouches and a good stock of ammunition, powder and shot,\nwith three small barrels of fine powder for store, and lead in\nproportion; and these things were, indeed, the heaviest part of their\nbaggage, excepting the carpenters' tools and the surgeon's box of\nmedicines.\nAs for the carrying all these things, they might easily furnish\nthemselves with mules or horses for carriage, while they had money to\npay for them, and you may judge how that could be wanting, by what has\nbeen said of the country.\nWe gave them, however, a good large pack of European goods, to make\nagreeable presents where they received favours; such as black baize,\npieces of say, serge, calamanco, drugget, hats and stockings; not\nforgetting another pack of hatchets, knives, scissors, beads, toys, and\nsuch things, to please the natives of the plain country, if they should\nmeet with any.\nThey desired a few hand granadoes, and we gave them about a dozen; but,\nas they were heavy, it would have been very troublesome to have carried\nmore.\nThe Spaniard stayed till all this was done, and till the men were ready\nto march, and then told us privately, that it would not be proper for\nhim to march along with them, or to appear openly to countenance the\nenterprise; that my two lieutenants knew the way perfectly well; and\nthat he would go before to his own house, and they should hear of him by\nthe way.\nAll the mules and horses which he had lent us to bring us back he left\nwith them to carry their baggage, and our new captain had bought six\nmore privately in the country.\nThe last instructions I gave to our men were, that they should make the\nbest of their way over the country beyond the mountains; that they\nshould take the exact distances of places, and keep a journal of their\nmarch, set up crosses and marks at all proper stations; and that they\nshould steer their course as near as they could between the latitude of\n40\u00b0, where they would enter the country, and the latitude of 45\u00b0 south,\nso that they would go an east-south-east course most of the way, and\nthat wherever they made the shore they should seek for a creek or port\nwhere the ships might come to an anchor, and look out night and day for\nthe ships; the signals also were agreed on, and they had two dozen of\nrockets to throw up if they discovered us at sea; they had all necessary\ninstruments for observation also, and perspective glasses, pocket\ncompasses, &c., and thus they set out, October 24th, 1715.\nWe stayed five days after they began their march, by agreement, that if\nany opposition should be offered them in the country, or any umbrage\ntaken at their design, so that it could not be executed, we might have\nnotice. But as the Spaniards in the country, who are the most supinely\nnegligent people in the world, had not the least shadow of intelligence,\nand took them only to be French seamen belonging to the two French ships\n(such we past for) who had lain there so long, they knew nothing when\nthey went away, much less whither; but, no question, they believed that\nthey were all gone aboard again.\nWe stayed three days longer than we appointed, and hearing nothing amiss\nfrom them, we were satisfied that all was right with them; so we put to\nsea, standing off to the west, till we were out of sight of the shore,\nand then we stood away due south, with a fresh gale at\nnorth-west-by-west, and fair weather, though the wind chopped about soon\nafter, and we had calms and hot weather that did us no good, but made\nour men sick and lazy.\nThe supposed journey of our travellers, their march, and the adventures\nthey should meet with by the way, were, indeed, sufficient diversion,\nand employed us all with discourse, as well in the great cabin and\nroundhouse as afore the mast, and wagers were very rife among us, who\nshould come first to the shore of Patagonia, for so we called it.\nAs for the place, neither they nor we could make any guess at what part\nof the country they should make the sea; but, as for us, we resolved to\nmake the port St. Julian our first place to put in at, which is in the\nlatitude of 50\u00b0 5' and that then, as wind and weather would permit, we\nwould keep the coast as near as we could, till we came to Punta de St.\nHelena, where we would ride for some time, and, if possible, till we\nheard of them.\nWe had but a cross voyage to the mouth of the Straits of Magellan,\nhaving contrary winds, as I have said, and sometimes bad weather; so\nthat it was the 13th of December when we made an observation, and found\nourselves in the latitude of 52\u00b0 30', which is just the height of Cape\nVictoria, at the mouth of the passage.\nSome of our officers were very much for passing the Straits, and not\ngoing about by Cape Horn; but the uncertainty of the winds in the\npassage, the danger of the currents, &c., made it by no means\nadvisable, so we resolved to keep good sea-room.\nThe 25th of December, we found ourselves in the latitude of 62\u00b0 30', and\nbeing Christmas-day, I feasted the men, and drank the health of our\ntravellers. Our course was south-east-by-south, the wind south-west;\nthen we changed our course, and went east for eight days, and having\nchanged our course, stood away, without observation, east-north-east,\nand in two days more, made the land, on the east of the Strait de la\nMare, so that we were obliged to stand away east-south-east to take more\nsea-room, when the wind veering to the south-by-east, a fresh gale, we\nstood boldly away due north, and running large, soon found that we were\nentered into the North Sea on Twelfth Day; for joy of which, and to\ncelebrate the day, I gave every mess a piece of English beef, and a\npiece of Chilian pork, and made a great bowl of punch afore the mast, as\nwell as in the great cabin, which made our men very cheerful, and\ninstead of a twelfth cake, I gave the cook order to make every mess a\ngood plum-pudding, which pleased them all as well.\nBut while we were at our liquor and merry, the wind came about to the\nnorth-east and blew very hard, threatening us with a storm, and as the\nshore lay on our leeward quarter, we were not without apprehensions of\nbeing driven on some dangerous places, where we could have no shelter; I\nimmediately therefore altered my course, and ran away east all night, to\nhave as much sea-room as possible.\nThe next day the wind abated, and hauling away to the east, we stood\nnorthward again, and then north-west in three days more, and we made\nland, which appeared to be the head island of Port St. Julian, on the\nnorth side of the port, where we ran in, and about an hour before sunset\ncame to an anchor in eleven fathom good holding ground, latitude 49\u00b0\nWe wanted fresh water, otherwise we would not have made any stay here,\nfor we knew we were a little too far to the south; however, we were\nobliged to fill fresh water here for three days together, the\nwatering-place being a good way up the river, and the swell of the sea\nrunning very high.\nDuring this interval, Captain Merlotte and I went on shore with about\nthirty men, and marched up the country near twenty miles, getting up to\nthe top of the hills, where we made fires, and at the farthest hill we\nencamped all night, and threw up five rockets, which was our signal; but\nwe saw nothing to answer it, nor any sign either of English people or\nnatives in all the country.\nWe saw a noble champaign country, the plains all smooth, and covered\nwith grass like Salisbury Plain; very little wood to be seen anywhere,\ninsomuch that we could not get any thing but grass to make a smoke with,\nwhich was another of our signals.\nWe shot some fowls here, and five or six hares; the hares are as large\nas an English fox, and burrow in the earth like a rabbit. The fowls we\nshot were duck and mallard, teal and widgeon, the same as in England in\nshape and size, only the colour generally grey, with white in the\nbreast, and green heads; the flesh the same as ours, and very good.\nWe saw wild geese and wild swans, but shot none; we saw also guinacoes,\nor Peruvian sheep, as big as small mules, but could not get at them; for\nas soon as we stepped toward them, they would call to one another, to\ngive notice of us, and then troop altogether and be gone.\nThis is an excellent country for feeding and breeding of sheep and\nhorses, the grass being short, but very sweet and good on the plains,\nand very long and rich near the fresh rivers, and were it cultivated and\nstocked with cattle, would without doubt produce excellent kinds of all\nsorts of cattle; nor could it fail producing excellent corn, as well\nwheat as barley and oats; and as for peas, they grow wild all over the\ncountry, and nourish an infinite number of birds resembling pigeons,\nwhich fly in flights so great, that they seem in the air like clouds at\na great distance.\nAs for the soil, that of the hills is gravel, and some stony; but that\nof the plains is a light black mould, and in some places a rich loam,\nand some marl, all of which are tokens of fruitfulness, such as indeed\nnever fail.\nThe 14th of January (the weather being hot, and days long, for this was\ntheir July), we weighed and stood northerly along the shore, the coast\nrunning from Port St. Julian north-north-east, until we arrived at the\nfamous islands called Penguin Islands; and here we came to an anchor\nagain, in the same round bay which Sir John Narborough called Port\nDesire, it being the 17th of January.\nHere we found a post or cross, erected by Sir John Narborough, with a\nplate of copper nailed to it, and an inscription, signifying that he had\ntaken possession of that country in the name of Charles the Second.\nOur men raised a shout for joy that they were in their own king's\ndominions, or as they said, in their own country; and indeed, excepting\nthat it was not inhabited by Englishmen, and cultivated, planted, and\nenclosed after the English manner, I never saw a country so much like\nEngland.\nHere we victualled our ships with a new kind of food, for we loaded\nourselves with seals, of which here are an infinite number, and which we\nsalted and ate, and our men liked them wonderfully for awhile, but they\nsoon began to grow weary of them; also the penguins are a very wholesome\ndiet, and very pleasant, especially when a little salted; and as for\nsalt, we could have loaded our ships with it, being very good and white,\nmade by the sun, and found in standing ponds of salt water, near the\nshore.\nThe penguins are so easily killed, and are found in such vast multitudes\non that island (which for that reason is so called), that our men loaded\nthe long-boat with them twice in one day, and we reckoned there were no\nless than seven thousand in the boat each time.\nHere we travelled up into the country in search of our men, and made our\nsignals, but had no answer to them, nor heard any intelligence of them.\nWe saw some people here at a distance, scattering about; but they were\nbut few, nor would they be brought by any means to converse with us, or\ncome near us.\nWe spread ourselves over the country far and wide; and here we shot\nhares and wild-fowl again in abundance, the country being much the same\nas before, but something more bushy, and here and there a few trees, but\nthey were a great way off. There is a large river which empties itself\ninto this bay.\nFinding no news here of our men, I ordered the Madagascar ship to weigh\nand stand farther north, keeping as near the shore as he might with\nsafety, and causing his men to look out for the signals, which, if they\ndiscovered, they should give us notice by firing three guns.\nThey sailed the height of Cape Blanco, where the land falling back,\nmakes a deep bay, and the sea receives into it a great river at several\nmouths, some of them twenty leagues from the other, all farther north.\nHere they stood into the bay until they made the land again; for at the\nfirst opening of the bay they could not see the bottom of it, the land\nlying very low.\nThe captain was doubtful what he should do upon the appearance of so\nlarge a bay, and was loath to stand farther in, lest the land, pushing\nout into the sea again afterwards, and a gale springing up from the\nseaward, they might be shut into a bay where they had no knowledge of\nthe ground; and upon this caution, they resolved among themselves to\ncome to an anchor for that evening, and to put farther out to sea the\nnext morning.\nAccordingly the next morning he weighed and stood off to sea; but the\nweather being very fine, and the little wind that blew being\nsouth-west-by-south, he ventured to stand in for the shore, where he\nfound two or three small creeks, and one large river; and sending in his\nshallop to sound, and find out a good place to ride in, upon their\nmaking the signal to him that they had found such a place, he stood in,\nand came to an anchor in eleven fathom good ground, half a league from\nthe shore, and well defended from the northerly and easterly winds,\nwhich were the winds we had any reason to fear.\nHaving thus brought his ship to an anchor, he sent his shallop along the\nshore to give me an account of it, and desire me to come up to him,\nwhich accordingly we did; and here we resolved to ride for some time, in\nhopes to hear from our little army.\nWe went on shore, some or other of us, every day, and especially when\nfive of our men, going on shore on the north side of the river, had shot\nthree Peruvian sheep and a black wild bull; for after that they ranged\nthe country far and near to find more, but could never come within shot\nof them, except three bulls and a cow, which they killed after a long\nand tedious chase.\nWe lay here till the 16th of February, without any news of our\ntravellers, as I called them. All the hopes we had was, that five of our\nmen asking my leave to travel, swore to me they would go quite up to the\nAndes but they would find them; nay, they would go to the Spanish\ngentleman himself, if they did not hear of them; and obliged me to stay\ntwenty days for them, and no longer. This I readily promised, and\ngiving them everything they asked, and two Peruvian sheep to carry their\nammunition, with two dozen of rockets for signals, a speaking trumpet,\nand a good perspective glass, away they went; and from them we had yet\nheard no news, so that was our present hope.\nThey travelled, as they afterwards gave an account, one hundred and\ntwenty miles up the country, till they were at last forced to resolve to\nkill one of their guinacoes, or sheep, to satisfy their hunger, which\nwas a great grief to them, for their luggage was heavy to carry; but, I\nsay, they only resolved on it, for just as they were going to do it, one\nof them roused a deer with a fawn, and, by great good luck shot them\nboth; for, having killed the doe, the fawn stood still by her till he\nhad loaded his piece again, and shot that also.\nThis supplied them for four or five days plentifully, and the last day\none of my men being by the bank of the river (for they kept as near the\nriver as they could, in hopes to hear of them that way), saw something\nblack come driving down the stream; he could not reach it, but calling\none of his fellows, their curiosity was such, that the other, being a\ngood swimmer, stripped and put off to it, and, when he came to it, he\nfound it was a man's hat; this made them conclude their fellows were not\nfar off, and that they were coming by water.\nUpon this, they made to the first rising ground they could come at, and\nthere they encamped, and at night fired some rockets, and after the\nthird rocket was fired, they, to their great joy, saw two rockets rise\nup from the westward, and soon after that a third; and in two days more\nthey all joyfully met.\nWe had been here, as I have said, impatiently expecting them a great\nwhile; but, at last, the man at the main-top, who was ordered to look\nout, called aloud to us below, that he saw a flash of fire; and\nimmediately, the men looking to landward, they saw two rockets rise up\nin the air at a great distance, which we answered by firing three\nrockets again, and they returned by one rocket, to signify that they saw\nour men's signal.\nThis was a joyful exchange of distant language to both sides; but I was\nnot there, for, being impatient, I had put out and sailed about ten\nleagues farther; but our ship fired three guns to give me notice, which,\nhowever, we heard not, and yet we knew they fired too; for, it being in\nthe night, our men, who were very attentive with their eyes, as well as\nears, saw plainly the three flashes of the guns, though they could not\nhear the report, the wind being contrary.\nThis was such certain intelligence to me, and I was so impatient to know\nhow things went, that, having also a small gale of wind, I weighed\nimmediately, and stood back again to our other ship; it was not,\nhowever, till the second day after we weighed that we came up to them,\nhaving little or no wind all the first day; the next day in the morning\nthey spied us, and fired the three guns again, being the signal that\nthey had got news of our friends.\nNothing could be more to my satisfaction than to hear that they had got\nnews, and it was as much to their satisfaction as to ours to be sure, I\nmean our little army; for if any disaster had happened to us, they had\nbeen in a very odd condition; and though they might have found means to\nsubsist, yet they would have been out of all hope of ever returning to\ntheir own country.\nUpon the signal I stood into the bay, and came to an anchor at about a\nleague to the northward of our other ship, and as far from the shore,\nand, as it were, in the mouth of the river, waiting for another signal\nfrom our men, by which, we might judge which side of the river to go\nashore at, and might take some proper measures to come at them.\nAbout five o'clock in the evening, our eyes being all up in the air, and\ntowards the hills, for the appointed signals, beheld, to our great\nsurprise, a canoe come rowing to us out of the mouth of the river.\nImmediately we went to work with our perspective glasses; one said it\nwas one thing, and one said it was another, until I fetched a large\ntelescope out of the cabin, and with that I could easily see they were\nmy own men, and it was to our inexpressible satisfaction that they soon\nafter came directly on board.\nIt might very well take up another volume to give a farther account of\nthe particulars of their journey, or, rather, their journey and voyage.\nHow they got through the hills, and were entertained by the generous\nSpaniard, and afterwards by the wealthy Chilian; how the men, greedy for\ngold, were hardly brought away from the mountains; and how, once, they\nhad much ado to persuade them not to rob the honest Chilian who had\nused them so well, till my lieutenant, then their captain, by a\nstratagem, seized on their weapons, and threatened to speak to the\nSpaniard to raise the Chilians in the mountains, and have all their\nthroats cut; and yet even this did not suffice, till the two midshipmen,\nthen their lieutenants, assured them that at the first opening of the\nhills, and in the rivers beyond, they would have plenty of gold; and one\nof the midshipmen told them, that if he did not see them have so much\ngold that they would not stoop to take up any more, they should have all\nhis share to be divided among them, and should leave him behind in the\nfirst desolate place they could find.\nHow this appeased them till they came to the outer edge of the\nmountains, where I had been, and where my patron, the Spaniard, left\nthem, having supplied them with sixteen mules to carry their baggage,\nand some guinacoes, or sheep of Peru, which would carry burdens, and\nafterwards be good to eat also.\nAlso, how here they mutinied again, and would not be drawn away, being\ninsatiable in their thirst after gold, till about twenty, more\nreasonable than the rest, were content to move forward; and, after some\ntime, the rest followed, though not till they were assured that the\npicking up of gold continued all along the river, which began at the\nbottom of the mountains, and that it was likely to continue a great way\nfarther.\nHow they worked their way down these streams, with still an insatiable\navarice and thirst after the gold, to the lake called the Golden Lake,\nand how here they were astonished at the quantity they found; how, after\nthis, they had great difficulty to furnish themselves with provisions,\nand greater still in carrying it along with them until they found more.\nI say, all these accounts might suffice to make another volume as large\nas this. How, at the farther end of the lake, they found that it\nevacuated itself into a large river, which, running away with a strong\ncurrent to the south-south-east, and afterwards to the south-by-east,\nencouraged them to build canoes, in which they embarked, and which river\nbrought them down to the very bay where we found them; but that they met\nwith many difficulties, sank and staved their canoes several times, by\nwhich they lost some of their baggage, and, in one disaster, lost a\ngreat parcel of their gold, to their great surprise and mortification.\nHow at one place, they split two of their canoes, where they could find\nno timber to build new ones, and the many hardships they were put to\nbefore they got other canoes. But I shall give a brief account of it\nall, and bring it into as narrow a compass as I can.\nThey set out, as I have said, with mules and horses to carry their\nbaggage, and the Spaniard gave them a servant with them for a guide,\nwho, carrying them by-ways, and unfrequented, so that they might give no\nalarm at the town of Villa Rica, or anywhere else, they came to the\nmouth of the entrance into the mountains, and there they pitched their\ntent.\nN.B.--The lieutenant who kept their journal, giving an account of this,\nmerrily, in his sea language, expresses it thus: \"Being all come safe\ninto the opening, that is, in the entrance of the mountains, and being\nthere free from the observation of the country, we called it our first\nport, so we brought to, and came to an anchor.\"\nHere the generous Spaniard, who at his own request was gone before, sent\nhis gentleman and one of his sons to them, and sent them plenty of\nprovisions, as also caused their mules to be changed for others that\nwere fresh, and had not been fatigued with any of the other part of the\njourney.\nThese things being done, the Spaniard's gentleman caused them to decamp,\nand march two days farther into the mountains, and then they encamped\nagain, where the Spaniard himself came _incognito_ to them, and, with\nthe utmost kindness and generosity, was their guide himself, and their\npurveyor also, though two or three times the fellows were so rude, so\nungovernable and unbounded in their hunting after gold, that the\nSpaniard was almost frighted at them, and told the captain of it. Nor,\nindeed, was it altogether without cause, for the dogs were so\nungrateful, that they robbed two of the houses of the Chilians, and took\nwhat gold they had, which was not much, indeed, but it hazarded so much\nthe alarming the country, and raising all the mountaineers upon them,\nthat the Spaniard was upon the point of flying from them, in spite of\nall their fire-arms and courage.\nBut the captain begged him to stay one night more, and promised to have\nthe fellows punished, and satisfaction to be made; and so he brought all\nhis men together and talked to them, and inquired who it was? but never\nwas such a piece of work in the world. When the new captain came to\ntalk of who did it, and of punishment, they cried, they all did it, and\nthey did not value all the Spaniards or Indians in the country; they\nwould have all the gold in the whole mountains, ay, that they would, and\nswore to it; and, if the Spaniard offered to speak a word to them, they\nwould chop his head off, and put a stop to his farther jawing.\nHowever, a little reasoning with them brought some of the men to their\nsenses; and the captain, who was a man of sense and of a smooth tongue,\nmanaged so well, that he brought about twenty-two of the men, and the\ntwo lieutenants and surgeons, to declare for his opinion, and that they\nwould act better for the future; and, with these, he stepped in between\nthe other fellows, and separated about eighteen of them from their arms,\nfor they had run scattering among the rocks to hunt for gold, and, when\nthey were called to this parley, had not their weapons with them. By\nthis stratagem, he seized eleven of the thieves, and made them\nprisoners; and then he told the rest, in so many words, that if they\nwould not comply to keep order, and obey the rules they were at first\nsworn to, and had promised, he would force them to it, for he would\ndeliver them, bound hand and foot, to the Spaniards, and they should do\nthe poor Chilians justice upon them; for that, in short, he would not\nhave the rest murdered for them; upon this, he ordered his men to draw\nup, to show them he would be as good as his word, when, after some\nconsideration, they submitted.\nBut the Spaniard had taken a wiser course than this, or, perhaps, they\nhad been all murdered; for he ran to the two Chilian houses which the\nrogues had plundered, and where, in short, there was a kind of tumult\nabout it, and, with good words, promising to give them as much gold as\nthey lost, and the price of some other things that were taken away, he\nappeased the people; and so our men were not ruined, as they would\ncertainly have been if the mountaineers had taken the alarm.\nAfter this, they grew a little more governable; but, in short, the sight\nof the gold, and the easy getting it (for they picked it up in abundance\nof places), I say, the sight of the gold made them stark mad. For now\nthey were not, as they were before, trafficking for the owners and for\nthe voyage; but as I had promised the gold they got should be their\nown, and that they were now working for themselves, there was no\ngetting them to go on, but, in short, they would dwell here; and this\nwas as fatal a humour as the other.\nBut to bring this part of the voyage to an end, after eight days they\ncame to the hospitable wealthy Chilian's house, whom I mentioned before;\nand here, as the Spaniard had contrived it, they found all kind of\nneedful stores for provisions laid up, as it were, on purpose; and, in a\nword, here they were not fed only, but feasted.\nHere, again, the captain discovered a cursed conspiracy, which, had it\ntaken effect, would, besides the baseness of the fact, have ended in\ntheir total destruction; in short, they had resolved to rob this\nChilian, who was so kind to them; but, as I said, one of the lieutenants\ndiscovered and detected this villanous contrivance, and quashed it, so\nas never to let the Spaniard know of it.\nBut, I say, to end this part, they were one-and-twenty days in this\ntraverse, for they could not go on so easy and so fast, now they were a\nlittle army, as we did, who were but six or seven; at length they came\nto the view of the open country, and, being all encamped at the edge of\na descent, the generous Spaniard (and his three servants) took his\nleave, wishing them a good journey, and so went back, having, the day\nbefore, brought them some deer, five or six cows, and some sheep, for\ntheir subsisting at their entrance into, and travel through, the plain\ncountry.\nAnd now they began to descend towards the plain, but they met with more\ndifficulty here than they expected; for, as I observed that the way for\nsome miles went with an ascent towards the farthest part of the hill;\nthat continued ascent had, by degrees, brought them to a very great, and\nin some places, impassable descent; so that, however my guide found his\nway down, when I was through, it was not easy for them to do it, who\nwere so many in number, and encumbered with mules and horses, and with\ntheir baggage, so that they knew not what to do; and, if they had not\nknown that our ships were gone away, there had been some odds but, like\nthe Israelites of old, they would have murmured against their leader,\nand have all gone back to Egypt. In a word, they were at their wits'\nend, and knew not what course to take for two or three days, trying and\nessaying to get down here and there, and then frightened with\nprecipices and rocks, and climbing up to get back again. The whole of\nthe matter was, that they had missed a narrow way, where they should\nhave turned off to the south-east, the marks which our men had made\nbefore having not been so regular and exact just there, as in other\nparts of the way, or some other turning being so very like the same,\nthat they took one for the other; and thus, going straight forward too\nfar before they turned, they came to an opening indeed, and saw the\nplain country under them, as they had done before, but the descent was\nnot so practicable.\nAfter they had puzzled themselves here, as I said, two or three days,\none of the lieutenants, and a man with him, seeing a hut or house of a\nChilian at some distance, rode away towards it; but passing into a\nvalley that lay between, he met with a river which he could by no means\nget over with the mules, so he came back again in despair. The captain\nthen resolved to send back to the honest rich Chilian, who had\nentertained them so well, for a guide, or to desire him to give them\nsuch directions as they might not mistake.\nBut as the person sent back was one of those who had taken the journal\nwhich I mentioned, and was therefore greatly vexed at missing his way in\nsuch a manner, so he had his eyes in every corner, and pulled out his\npocket-book at every turning, to see how the marks of the places agreed;\nand at last, the very next morning after he set out, he spied the\nturning where they should all have gone in, to have come to the place\nwhich they were at before; this being so remarkable a discovery, he came\nback again directly, without going on to the Chilian's house, which was\ntwo days' journey farther.\nOur men were revived with this discovery, and all agreed to march back;\nso, having lost about six days in this false step, they got into the\nright way, and, in four more, came to the descent were I had been\nbefore.\nHere the hill was still very high, and the passage down was steep and\ndifficult enough; but still it was practicable, and our men could see\nthe marks of cattle having passed there, as if they had gone in drifts\nor droves; also it was apparent, that, by some help and labour of hands,\nthe way might be led winding and turning on the slope of the hill, so as\nto make it much easier to get down than it was now.\nIt cost them no small labour, however, to get down, chiefly because of\nthe mules, which very often fell down with their loads; and our men\nsaid, they believed they could with much more ease have mounted up from\nthe east side to the top than they came from the west side to the\nbottom.\nThey encamped one night on the declivity of the hill, but got up early,\nand were at the bottom and on the plain ground by noon. As soon as they\ncame there they encamped and refreshed themselves, that is to say, went\nto dinner; but it being very hot there, the cool breezes of the\nmountains having now left them, they were more inclined to sleep than to\neat; so the captain ordered the tent to be set up, and they made the\nwhole day of it, calling a council in the morning to consider what\ncourse they should steer, and how they should go on.\nHere they came to this resolution, that they should send two men a\nconsiderable way up the hill again, to take the strictest observation\nthey could of the plain with the largest glasses they had, and to mark\nwhich way the nearest river or water was to be seen; and they should\ndirect their course first to the water, and that, if the course of it\nlay south, or any way to the east of the south, they would follow on the\nbank of it, and, as soon as it was large enough to carry them, they\nwould make them some canoes or shallops, or what they could do with the\nmost ease, to carry them on by water; also, they directed them to\nobserve if they could see any cattle feeding at a distance, or the like.\nThe messengers returned, and brought word that all the way to the east,\nand so on to south-east, they could discover nothing of water, but that\nthey had seen a great lake, or lough of water, at a great distance,\nwhich looked like a sea, and lay from them to the northward of the east,\nabout two points; adding, that they did not know but it might afterwards\nempty itself to the eastward, and it was their opinion to make the best\nof their way thither.\nAccordingly, the next morning, the whole body decamped, and marched\neast-north-east, very cheerfully, but found the way much longer than\nthey expected; for though from the mountains the country seemed to lie\nflat and plain, yet, when they came to measure it by their feet, they\nfound a great many little hills; little, I say, compared to the great\nmountains, but great to them who were to travel over them in the heat,\nand with but very indifferent support as to provisions; so that, in a\nword, the captain very prudently ordered that they should travel only\nthree hours in the morning and three in the evening, and encamp in the\nheat of the day, to refresh themselves as well as they could.\nThe best thing they met with in that part of the country was, that they\nhad plenty of water, for though they were not yet come to any large,\nconsiderable river, yet every low piece of ground had a small rill of\nwater in it; and the springs coming out from the rising grounds on the\nsides of the mountains being innumerable, made many such small brooks.\nIt cost them six days' travel, with two days' resting between, to\nadvance to that river of water, which, from the height of the mountains,\nseemed to be but a little way off. They could not march, by their\ncomputation, above ten or twelve miles a day, and rest every third day\ntoo, for their luggage was heavy, and their mules but few; also some of\ntheir mules became tired and jaded by their long march, or fell lame,\nand were good for nothing.\nBesides all this, the days which I call days of rest were really not so\nto them, for those intervals were employed to range about and hunt for\nfood; and it was for want of that, more than for want of rest, that they\nhalted every third day.\nIn this exercise they did, however, meet with such success, that they\nmade shift to kill one sort of creature or another every day, sufficient\nto keep them from famishing; sometimes they met with some deer, other\ntimes with the guinacoes, or Peruvian sheep, and sometimes with fowls of\nseveral kinds, so that they did pretty well for food. At length, viz.,\nthe seventh day, they came to a river, which was at first small, but\nhaving received another small river or two from the northern part of the\ncountry, it began to seem large enough for their purpose; and, as it ran\neast-south-east, they concluded it would run into the lake, and that\nthey might fleet down this river, if they could make anything to carry\nthem.\nBut their first discouragement was, the country was all open, with very\nlittle wood, and no trees, or very few to be found large enough to make\ncanoes, or boats of any sort; but the skill of their carpenters, of\nwhich they had four, soon conquered this difficulty; for, coming to a\nlow swampy ground on the side of the river, they found a tree something\nlike a beech, very firm good sort of wood, and yet soft enough to yield\nto their tools; and they went to work with this, and at first made them\nsome rafts, which they thought might carry them along till the river was\nbigger.\nWhile this was doing, which took up two or three days, the men straggled\nup and down; some with their guns to shoot fowls, some with contrivances\nto catch fish, some one thing, some another; when, on a sudden, one of\ntheir fishermen, not in the river, but in a little brook, which\nafterwards ran into the river, found a little bit of shining stuff among\nthe sand or earth, in the bank, and cried, he had found a piece of gold.\nNow, it seems, all was not gold that glistened, for the lump had no gold\nin it, whatever it was; but the word being given out at first, it\nimmediately set all our men a-rummaging the shores of every little rill\nof water they came at, to see if there was any gold; and they had not\nlooked long till they found several little grains, very small and fine,\nnot only in this brook, but in several others; so they spent their time\nmore cheerfully, because they made some advantage.\nAll this while they saw no people, nor any signals of any; except once,\non the other side of the river, at a great distance, they saw about\nthirty together, but whether men or women, or how many of each, they\ncould not tell, nor would they come any nearer, only stood and gazed at\nour people at a distance.\nThey were now ready to quit their camp and embark, intending to lay all\ntheir baggage on the rafts, with three or four sick men, and so the rest\nto march by the river side, and as many as could, to ride upon the\nmules; when on a sudden, all their navigation was put to a stop, and\ntheir new vessels, such as they were, suffered a wreck.\nThe case was thus:--They had observed a great many black clouds to hang\nover the tops of the mountains, and some of them even below the tops,\nand they did believe it rained among the hills, but, in the plain where\nthey lay, and all about them, it was fair, and the weather fine.\nBut, in the night, the carpenters and their assistants, who had set up a\nlittle tent near the river side, were alarmed with a great roaring\nnoise, as they thought, in the river, though at a distance upwards;\npresently after, they found the water begin to come into their tent,\nwhen, running out, they found the river was swelling over its banks,\nand all the low grounds on both sides of them.\nTo their great satisfaction, it was just break of day, so that they\ncould see enough to make their way from the water, and the land very\nhappily rising a little to the south of the river, they immediately fled\nthither. Two of them had so much presence of mind with them, as to pick\nup their working-tools, at least some of them, and carry off, and the\nwater rising gradually, the other two carpenters ventured back to save\nthe rest, but they were put to some difficulty to get back again with\nthem; in a word, the water rose to such a height that it carried away\ntheir tent, and everything that was in it, and which was worse, their\nrafts (for they had almost finished four large ones) were lifted off\nfrom the place where they were framed, which was a kind of a dry dock,\nand dashed all to pieces, and the timber, such as it was, all carried\naway. The smaller brooks also swelled in proportion to the large river;\nso that, in a word, our men lay as it were, surrounded with water, and\nbegan to be in a terrible consternation; for, though they lay in a hard\ndry piece of ground, too high for the land-flood to reach them, yet, had\nthe rains continued in the mountains, they might have lain there till\nthey had been obliged to eat one another, and so there had been an end\nof our new discovery.\nBut the weather cleared up among the hills the next day, which heartened\nthem up again; and as the flood rose so soon, so the current being\nfuriously rapid, the waters ran off again as easily as they came on, and\nin two days the water was all gone again. But our little float was\nshipwrecked, as I have said, and the carpenters finding how dangerous\nsuch great unwieldy rafts would be, resolved to set to it, and build one\nlarge float with sides to it, like a punt or ferry-boat. They worked so\nhard at this, ten of the men always working with them to help, that in\nfive days they had her finished; the only thing they wanted was pitch\nand tar, to make her upper work keep out the water, and so they made a\nshift to fetch a juice out of some of the wood they had cut, by help of\nfire, that answered the end tolerably well.\nBut that which made this disappointment less afflicting was, that our\nmen hunting about the small streams where this water had come down so\nfuriously, found that there was more gold, and the more for the late\nflood. This made them run straggling up the streams, and, as the\ncaptain said, he thought once they would run quite back to the mountains\nagain.\nBut this was his ignorance too; for after awhile, and the nearer they\ncame to the rising of the hills the quantity abated; for where the\nstreams were so furious, the water washed it all away, and carried it\ndown with it, so that by the end of five days, the men found but little,\nand began to come back again.\nBut then they discovered that, though there was less in the higher part\nof the rivers, there was more farther down, and they found it so well\nworth while, that they went looking along for gold all the way towards\nthe lake, and left their fellows and the boat to come after.\nAt last, when nothing else would do, hunger called them off, and so once\nmore all the company were got together again; and now they began to load\nthe float, indeed it might be called a luggage-boat; however, it\nanswered very well, and was a great relief to our men; but when they\ncame to load it, they found it would not carry near so much as they had\nto put in it. Besides that, they would be all obliged to march on foot\nby shore, which had this particular inconvenience in it, that whenever\nthey came to any small river or brook which ran into the other, as was\nvery often the case, they would be forced to march up a great way to get\nover it, or unload the great float to make a ferry-boat of it to waft\nthem over.\nUpon this they were resolved, that the first place they came at where\ntimber was to be had for building, they would go to work again and make\ntwo or three more floats, not so big as the other, that so they might\nembark themselves, their baggage, and their provisions too, all\ntogether, and take the full benefit of the river, where it would afford\nthem help; and not some sail on the water, and some go on foot upon the\nland, which would be very fatiguing.\nTherefore, as soon as they found timber, as I have said, and a\nconvenient place, they went all hands to work to build more floats or\nboats, and, while this was doing, all the spare men spent their time and\npains in searching about for gold in the brooks and small streams, as\nwell those they had been at before as others, and that after they had,\nas it were, plundered them at the first discovery; for, as they had\nfound some gold after the hasty rain, they were loath to give it over,\nthough they had been assured there was more to be found in the lake,\nwhere they were yet to come, than in the brooks.\nAll this while their making the floats went slowly on; for the men\nthought it a great hardship to keep chopping of blocks, as they called\nit, while their fellows were picking up gold, though they knew they were\nto have their share of what they found, as much as if they had been all\nthe while with them; but it seems there is a kind of satisfaction in the\nwork of picking up gold, besides the mere gain.\nHowever, at length the gold failing, they began to think of their more\nimmediate work, which was, going forward; and the carpenters having made\nthree more floats, like flat-bottomed barges, which they brought to be\nable to carry their baggage and themselves too, if they thought fit,\nthey began to embark and fall down the river; but they grew sick of\ntheir navigation in a very few days, for before they got to the lake,\nwhich was but three days' going, they ran several times on ground, and\nwere obliged to lighten their floats to get them off again, then load\nagain, and lighten again, and so off and on, till they were so tired of\nthem that they would much rather have carried all their baggage, and\nhave travelled by land; and, at last, they were forced to cast off two\nof them, and put all their baggage on board the other two, which, at\nbest, though large, were but poor crazy things.\nAt length they came in sight of their beloved lake, and the next day\nthey entered into the open part, or sea of it, which they found was very\nlarge, and in some places very deep.\nTheir floats, or by what other name they might be called, were by no\nmeans fit to carry them upon this inland sea; for if the water had been\nagitated by the least gust of wind, it would presently have washed over\nthem, and have spoiled, if not sunk, their baggage; so they had no way\nto steer or guide them whenever they came into deep water, where they\ncould not reach the ground with their poles.\nThis obliged them, as soon as they came into the open lake, to keep\nclose under one shore, that is to say, to the right hand, where the land\nfalling away to the south and the south-by-east, seemed to carry them\nstill forward on their way; the other side widening to the north, made\nthe lake seem there to be really a sea, for they could not look over\nit, unless they went on shore and got upon some rising ground.\nHere, at first, they found the shore steep too, and a great depth of\nwater close to land, which made them very uneasy; for, if the least gale\nof wind had disturbed the water, especially blowing from off the lake,\nthey would have been shipwrecked close to the shore. However, after they\nhad gone for two days along the side, by the help of towing and setting\nas well as they could, they came to a flatter shore and a fair strand,\nto their great joy and satisfaction.\nBut, if the shore proved to their satisfaction for its safety, it was\nmuch more so on another account; for they had not been long here before\nthey found the sands or shore infinitely rich in gold, beyond all that\nthey had seen, or thought of seeing before. They had no sooner made the\ndiscovery, than they resolved to possess themselves of a treasure that\nwas to enrich them all for ever; accordingly, they went to work with\nsuch an avaricious spirit, that they seemed to be as if they were\nplundering an enemy's camp, and that there was an army at hand to drive\nthem from the place; and, as it proved, they were in the right to do so;\nfor, in this gust of their greedy appetite, they considered not where\nthey were, and upon what tender and ticklish terms their navigation\nstood.\nThey had, indeed, drawn their two floats to the shore as well as they\ncould, and with pieces of wood like piles, stuck in on every side,\nbrought them to ride easy, but had not taken the least thought about\nchange of weather, though they knew they had neither anchor or cable,\nnor so much as a rope large enough to fasten them with on the shore.\nBut they were taught more wit, to their cost, in two or three days; for,\nthe very second night they felt a little unusual rising of the water, as\nthey thought, though without any wind; and the next morning they found\nthe water of the lake was swelled about two feet perpendicular, and that\ntheir floats, by that means, lay a great way farther from the shore than\nthey did at first, and the water still increasing.\nThis made them imagine there was a tide in the lake, and that after a\nlittle time it would abate again, but they soon found their mistake; for\nafter some time, they perceived the water, which was perfectly fine and\nclear before, grew by degrees of a paler colour, thick and whitish, till\nat last it was quite white and muddy, as is usual in land floods; and\nas it still continued rising, so they continued thrusting in their\nfloats farther and farther towards the shore, till they had, in short,\nlost all the fine golden sands they were at work upon before, and found\nthe lake overflowed the land so far beyond them, that, in short, they\nseemed to be in the middle of the lake, for they could scarce see to the\nend of the water, even on that very side where, but a few hours before,\ntheir floats were fast on the sands.\nIt may be easily judged that this put them into great consternation, and\nthey might well conclude that they should be all drowned and lost; for\nthey were now, as it were, in the middle of the sea upon two open floats\nor rafts, fenced nowhere from the least surge or swell of the water,\nexcept by a kind of waste board, about two feet high, built up on the\nsides, without any calking or pitching, or anything to keep out the\nwater.\nThey had neither mast or sail, anchor or cable, head or stern, no bows\nto fence off the waves, or rudder to steer any course, or oars to give\nany motion to their floats, whose bottoms were flat like a punt, so that\nthey were obliged to thrust them along with such poles as they had, some\nof which were about eight or ten feet long, which gained them a little\nway, though very slowly.\nAll the remedy they had in this case was, to set on with their poles\ntowards the shore, and to observe, by their pocket compasses, which way\nit lay; and this they laboured hard at, lest they should be lost in the\nnight, and not know which way to go.\nTheir carpenters, in the mean time, with some spare boards which they\nhad, or rather made, raised their sides as well as they could, to keep\noff the wash of the sea, if any wind should rise so as to make the water\nrough; and thus they fenced against every danger as well as they could,\nthough, all put together, they were but in a very sorry condition.\nNow they had time to reflect upon their voracious fury, in ranging the\nshore to pick up gold, without considering where and in what condition\nthey were, and without looking out on shore for a place of safety: nay,\nthey might now have reflected on the madness of venturing out into a\nlake or inland sea of that vast extent, in such pitiful bottoms as they\nhad under them. Their business, doubtless, had been to have stopped\nwithin the mouth of the river, and found a convenient place to land\ntheir goods and secure their lives; and when they had pitched their camp\nupon any safe high ground, where they might be sure they could neither\nbe overflowed nor surrounded with water, they might have searched the\nshores of the lake as far as they thought fit; but thus to launch into\nan unknown water, and in such a condition, as to their vessels, as is\ndescribed above, was most unaccountably rash and inconsiderate.\nNever were a crew of fifty men, all able and experienced sailors, so\nembarked, nor drawn into such a snare; for they were surrounded with\nwater for three or four miles in breadth on the nearest shore, and this\nall on a sudden, the country lying low and flat for such a breadth, all\nwhich appeared dry land and green, like the fields, the day before; and,\nwithout question, the men were sufficiently surprised.\nNow they would have given all the gold they had got, which was very\nconsiderable too, to have been on shore on the wildest and most barren\npart of the country, and would have trusted to their own diligence to\nget food; but here, besides the imminent danger of drowning, they might\nalso be in danger of starving; for had their floats grounded but upon\nany little hillock, they might have stuck there till they had starved\nand perished for hunger. Then they were in the utmost anxiety too for\nfear of wetting their powder, which, if it had happened, they could\nnever have made serviceable again, and without it, they could not have\nkilled anything for food, if they had got to the shore.\nThey had, in this exigence, some comforts, however, which might a little\nuphold their spirits; and without which, indeed, their condition must\nhave been deplorable and desperate.\n1. It was hot weather, so that as they had no shelter against the cold,\nif it had come, they had no cold to afflict them; but they rather wanted\nawnings to keep off the sun, than houses to keep off the cold.\n2. The water of the lake was fresh and good; even when it looked white\nand thick, yet it was very sweet, wholesome, and good tasted; had it\nbeen salt water, and they thus in the middle of it, they must have\nperished with thirst.\n3. They being now floating over the drowned lands only, the water was\nnot very deep, so that they could reach ground, and set along their\nrafts with their poles, and this, to be sure, they failed not to do with\nthe utmost diligence.\nThey had also the satisfaction to observe, though it was not without\ntoiling in an inexpressible manner, that they gained upon the shore, and\nthat there was a high land before them, which they were making for,\nthough very slowly, and at a distance they hoped to overcome.\nBut soon after, they had another discouragement, namely, that they saw\nthe day declining, and night coming on apace, and, in short, that it was\nimpossible they could reach the high land, which they saw by daylight,\nnor did they know what to do or how to go on in the night.\nAt length two bold fellows offered themselves to strip and go off,\neither to wade or swim to the shore, which they had daylight to do,\nbeing, as they judged, about three miles, though they found it above\nfour, and from thence to find means to make a fire or light to guide\nthem to the shore in the dark.\nThis was, indeed, a desperate attempt, but the two fellows being good\nswimmers, and willing to venture, it was not impracticable. They had\nlight linen drawers on, with pockets, and open at the knees, and their\nshirts; each of them took a little bottle with some gunpowder, close\nstopped, with other materials for kindling fire; weapons they had none,\nbut each man a knife and a hatchet fastened round his waist in a little\nbelt, and a light pole in his hands to help him when he waded, which it\nwas expected they must do part of the way. They had no provisions with\nthem, but a bottle with some good brandy in their pockets above\nmentioned.\nWhen they went off, it was supposed the water to be about four feet to\nfive feet deep, so they chose to swim rather than wade, and it was very\nseldom much deeper; they had often opportunity to stand on the firm\nground to rest themselves.\nIn this posture they went on directly towards the land, and after they\nhad, by swimming and wading together, advanced about a mile, they found\nthe water grew shallower, which was a signal to them that they should\nreach the hard ground in a little time; so they walked cheerfully on in\nabout three feet water, for near a mile more.\nTheir companions on board the rafts soon lost sight of them, for they\nbeing in white, and the water white too, and the light declining, they\ncould not see them at a mile distance.\nAfter this they found the ground falling lower, so that they had deeper\nwater for half a mile more all the way; after which, they came to a flat\nground again, for near two miles more, and at length to the dry land, to\ntheir great satisfaction, though it was then quite night.\nThey had been near an hour in the dark, that is to say, with only a\ndusky light, and began to be greatly at a loss, not being able to see\nthe compass. They had made shift to get over the half mile of deeper\nwater pretty well; for, though it was too deep for the two men to wade,\nas above, yet they could reach the bottom with their poles, and, at that\ntime, they happened to feel a little breeze of wind fair in their way,\nwhich not only refreshed them, but gave them a kind of a jog on their\nway towards the shore.\nAt length, to their great joy, they saw a light; and it was the more to\ntheir joy, because they saw it just before them, or, as the seamen call\nit, right ahead; by which they had the satisfaction to know they had not\nvaried their course in the dark. It seems their two men had landed upon\na fair rising ground, where they found some low bushes and trees, and\nwhere they had good hard dry standing; and they soon found means to pick\nout a few withered dry sticks, with which they made a blaze for the\npresent, having struck fire with the tools they were furnished with, as\nmentioned above.\nBy the light of this blaze, they gave the first notice to their comrades\nthat they were landed; and they in return, as was agreed as before,\nfired two guns as a signal that they saw it, and were all safe.\nBy the light of this fire, the two men also gave themselves so much\nlight as to find more dry wood; and, afterwards, their fire was so\nstrong and good, that they made the green wood burn as well as the dry.\nTheir companions on the floats were now come into the shoal water, in\nwhich, as I said, these men waded, but, as their floats did not draw\nabove a foot or eighteen inches water at most, they went on still; but,\nat length, being within about half a mile of the hillock where the two\nmen were, they found the water so shallow that their floats would not\nswim. Upon this, more of the men went overboard with poles in their\nhands, sounding, as we call it, for a deeper water, and, with long\npaddling about, they found the ground fall off a little in one place, by\nwhich they got their floats about a quarter of a mile farther; but then\nthe water was shallow again, not above a foot of water: so, in a word,\nthey were fain to be content, and, running fast aground, they\nimmediately began, though dark, and themselves very much fatigued, to\nunload their floats and carry all on shore on their backs.\nThe first thing they took care to land, was their ammunition, their\ngunpowder and arms, not forgetting the ammunition de bouche, as the\nFrench call it, I mean their victuals; and, with great joy, got to their\ncomrades. Then they fetched their proper materials for their tent, and\nset it up, and having refreshed themselves, they went all to sleep, as\nthey said, without so much as a sentinel placed for their guard; for, as\nthey saw no inhabitants, so they feared no enemies; and, it may be\nsupposed, they were weary enough to make them want rest, even in the\nextremest manner.\nIn the morning they had time enough to reflect upon the madness of such\nrash adventures. Their floats, indeed, remained as they had left them,\nand the water was ebbed away from them for more than two miles, that is\nto say, almost to the deep half mile mentioned above; but they heard a\nsurprising noise and roaring of the water on the lake itself, the body\nof which was now above seven miles from them.\nThey could not imagine what this roaring should mean, for they felt no\nwind, nor could they perceive any clouds at a distance that looked as if\nthey brought any squalls of wind with them, as they are often observed\nto do; but, when they came nearer the water, they found it had a kind of\na swell, and that there was certainly some more violent motion at the\nfarther distance; and, in a little while, looking behind them towards\nthe shore where their comrades were, they found the water began to\nspread over the flat ground again; upon which, they hastened back, but\nhaving a good way to go, they were obliged to wade knee deep before they\nreached to the hillock where their tent stood.\nThey had not been many hours on shore before they found the wind began\nto rise, and the roaring, which before they heard at a distance, grew\nlouder and nearer, till at length the floats were lifted up, and driven\non shore by the wind, which increased to a storm, and the water swelled\nand grew rough; and, as they were upon the lee shore, the floats were\nsoon broken in pieces, and went some one way and some another.\nIn the evening it overcast and grew cloudy, and, about midnight, they\nhad their share of a violent rain, which yet, they could see was more\nviolent towards the mountains of the Andes, and towards the course of\nthe river which they came down in the floats.\nThe consequence of this was, that the third day, the waters of the lake\nswelled again to a frightful height; that is to say, it would have been\nfrightful to them if they had been up in it, for they supposed it rose\nabout two fathoms perpendicularly, and the wind continuing fresh, the\nwater was all a white foam of froth; so that, had they been favoured\nwith even a good large boat under them, she would scarce have lived\nthere.\nTheir tent was a sufficient shelter from the rain, and, as they were on\ndry land, and too high to be reached by any inundation, they had no\nconcern upon them about their safety, but took this for sufficient\nnotice, not to come up the lake again in haste, unless they were better\nprovided with boats to ride out a storm.\nOur men began now to think they had taken their leave of the golden\nlake, and yet they knew not how to think of leaving it so soon. They\nwere now fourteen or fifteen leagues from the shore where they had found\nso much gold, nor did they know the way to it by land; and as for going\nby water, that they were unprovided for several ways; besides, the\nwaters kept up to a considerable height, and the winds blew fresh for\nsix or eight days, without intermission.\nAll these obstructions joined together, put them upon considering of\npursuing their march by land, in which, however, they resolved to coast\nthe lake as near as they could to the eastward, till, if possible, they\nshould find that the waters had some outlet, that is to say, that the\nlake emptied itself by some river towards the sea, as they concluded it\ncertainly must.\nThey had not yet seen any inhabitants, or any sign of them, at least,\nnot near them; they saw, or fancied they saw, some on the other side of\nthe river, but, as none came within reach of them, it is doubtful\nwhether they really saw them or not.\nBefore they decamped for a march, it was needful to get some provisions,\nif possible, and this made them the more desirous of finding out some\nconversible creatures, but it was in vain. They killed a wild cow and a\ndeer, and this was all they could get for some time; and with this they\nset forward, taking their course east, and rather northerly, in order to\ncome into the same latitude they set out in, at their first embarking on\nthe river.\nAfter they had marched thus for about three days, keeping the lake on\nthe north side of them, and always in view, at length, on the third day,\nin the evening, coming to a little hill, which gave them the prospect of\nthe country for some length north-east, they saw plainly a river issuing\nout of the lake, and running first east, then bending to the south; it\nwas also easy to perceive that this river, was at that time, much\nbroader than its usual course, for that they could see a great many\ntrees, which probably grew on the banks of the river, standing as it\nwere, in the middle of the water, the banks being overflowed both ways\nvery considerably.\nBut, as they mounted the hill which they stood on, to greater height,\nthey discovered farther north, at a distance of five or six miles,\naccording to their account, a much larger river, which looked, compared\nto the first, rather like a sea than a river, which likewise issued out\nof the lake, and ran east-by-south towards the sea; which river they\nsupposed to be in the same manner swelled with a land-water to a\nprodigious degree.\nThis prospect brought them to a more serious consultation as to the\nmeasures they should take to proceed on their journey; and as they could\neasily see there was little or no use to be made of the rivers for their\ntravelling, while they were thus above the ordinary banks, so that they\ncould not know the proper channels, and also that the currents were\nexceeding swift, so they resolved to stock themselves with provisions,\nif possible, and continue their journey by land.\nTo this purpose they first made it their business to catch some more\nguinacoes, or large sheep, which they knew would not only feed them, but\nalso carry their luggage, which was still heavy and very troublesome to\nthem, and yet absolutely necessary too. But all their endeavour was in\nvain, for though they saw several, and found that the country was pretty\nfull of them, and some they killed, yet they could not take one alive by\nany means they could contrive.\nAmong other creatures they shot for food were a few wild cows and\nbulls, and especially on the north side of the river, where they found\ngreat plenty.\nBut the most surprising thing to them that they had yet met with, was\nstill to come. They had descended from the hill where they at first\ndiscovered the smaller river, and where they had set up their tent,\nresolving to march on the lower grounds as near the river as they could,\nso as to be out of danger of the water, that they might find, if\npossible, some way over, to come at the great river, which they judged\nto be the stream most proper for their business.\nHere they found a rich pleasant country, level and fruitful, not so low\nas to be exposed to the overflowing of the river, and not so high as to\nbe dry and barren; several little brooks and streams of water rising on\nthe side of the hill they came from, ran winding this way and that, as\nif to find out the river, and near the river were some woods of very\nlarge trees.\nThe men, not forgetting the main chance, fell to washing and searching\nthe sand and gravel in these brooks for gold; but the harvest of gold\nseemed to be over, for here they found none.\nThey had also an occasion to discover, that till the land-waters were\nabated, there was no stirring for them, no not so much as to cross the\nfirst river; nor if they did, could they find in their hearts to\nventure, not knowing but the waters might still rise higher, and that\nthe two rivers might swell into one, and so they should be swallowed up,\nor if not, they might be surrounded in some island, where they should\nperish for want of provisions; so they resolved to fetch their baggage\nfrom the hill as well as they could, and encamp in those pleasant\nplains, as near the river as they could, till the water should abate.\nWhile they stayed here, they were so far from having hopes that the\nwaters would abate, that it rained violently for almost three days and\nnights together; and one of those rainy mornings, looking out at their\ntent-door (for they could not stir abroad for the rain), they were\nsurprised, when looking towards the river, which was just below them,\nthey saw a prodigious number of black creatures in the water, and\nswimming towards the shore where they were.\nThey first imagined they were porpoises, or sea-hogs, but could not\nsuggest anything of that kind at such a distance from the sea, when one\nof the men looking at them through the glass, cried out they were all\nblack cattle, and that he could perceive their horns and heads; upon\nthis, others looking with their glasses also, said the same; immediately\nevery man ran to his gun, and, notwithstanding it rained hard, away they\nmarched down to the river's side with all the speed they could make.\nBy that time they reached the river bank, their wonder increased, for\nthey found it was a vast multitude of black cattle, who, finding the\nwaters rise between the two rivers, and, by a natural sagacity,\napprehensive of being swept away with the flood, had one and all took\nthe waters, and were swimming over to this side for safety.\nIt may very well be imagined, the fellows, though they wanted a few such\nguests as these, yet were terrified with their multitude, and began to\nconsider what course to take when the creatures should come to land, for\nthere was a great number of them. Upon the whole, after a short\nconsultation, for the creatures came on apace, they resolved to get into\na low ground, where they perceived they directed their course, and in\nwhich there were a great many trees, and that they would all get up into\nthe trees, and so lie ready to shoot among them as they landed.\nAccordingly they did so, excepting five of them, who, by cutting down\nsome large boughs of a tree, had got into a little thicket close to the\nwater, and which they so fortified with the boughs of the trees, that\nthey thought themselves secure within; and there they posted themselves,\nresolving to wait the coming of the cattle, and take their hazard.\nWhen the creatures came to land, it was wonderful to observe how they\nlowed and roared, as it were to bid one another welcome on shore; and\nspreading themselves upon the neighbouring plain, immediately lay down,\nand rolling and stretching themselves, gave our people notice, that, in\nshort, they had swam a great way and were very much tired.\nOur fellows soon laid about them, and the five who had fixed themselves\nin the thicket had the fairest opportunity, for they killed eleven or\ntwelve of them as soon as they set their foot on shore, and lamed as\nmany.\nAnd now they had a trial of skill, for as they killed as many as they\nknew what to do with, and had their choice of beef, if they killed a\nbull they let him lie, as having no use for him, but chose the cows, as\nwhat they thought was only fit for eating.\nBut, I say, now they had a trial of skill, namely, to see if they could\nmaim some of the bulls so as not to kill them, and might bring them to\ncarry their luggage. This was a kind of a fruitless attempt, as we\nafterwards told them, to make a baggage-horse of a wild bull.\nHowever, they brought it so far to pass, that, having wounded several\nyoung bulls very much, after they had run roaring about with the hurt,\nthey lay down and bled so, as that it was likely they would bleed to\ndeath, as several of them really did; but the surgeon observing two of\nthem to be low enough that he might go to them, and do what he would\nwith them, he soon stopped the bleeding, and in a word, healed the\nwounds. All the while they were under cure he caused grass and boughs of\ntrees to be brought to them for food, and in four or five days the\ncreatures were very well; then he caused them to be hampered with ropes,\nand tied together, so that they could neither fight with their heads, or\nrun away with their heels; and having thus brought them to a place just\nby their tent, he caused them to be kept so hungry, and almost starved,\nthat, when meat was carried them, they were so tame and thankful, that\nat last, they would eat out of his hand, and stretch out their heads for\nit, and when they were let a little looser, would follow him about for a\nhandful of grass, like a dog for a bone.\nWhen he had brought them thus to hand, he, by degrees, loaded them, and\ntaught them to carry; and if they were unruly, as they were at first, he\nwould load them with more than they could well carry, and make them\nstand under that load two or three hours, and then come himself and\nbring them meat, and take the load off; and thus in a few days they knew\nhim so well, that they would let him do anything with them.\nWhen our people came to decamp, they tied them both together, with such\nropes as they had, and made them carry a very great weight. They tried\nthe same experiment with two more, but they failed; one died, and the\nother proved untractable, sullen, and outrageous.\nThe men had now lain here twelve days, having plenty of provision, in\nwhich time, the weather proving fair, the land waters ran off, and the\nrivers came to their old channels, clear and calm. The men would gladly\nhave gone back to the sands and flat shore of the lake, or to some other\npart, to look for gold; but that was impracticable now, so they marched\non, and in about two days they found the first river seemed to turn so\nmuch to the south, that they thought it would carry them too far out of\ntheir way, for their orders were to keep about the latitude of 40 to 50\u00b0\nas is said before, so they resolved to get over the first river as soon\nas they could; they had not gone far, but they found the river so\nshallow, that they easily forded it, bulls and all, and, being safely\nlanded, they travelled across the country to the great river, which they\nfound also very low, though not like to be forded as the other was.\nNow they thought they were in the way of their business, and here they\nresolved to see if a tree or two might be found, big enough to make a\nlarge canoe to carry them down this river, which, as it seemed large, so\nthe current seemed to be less rapid and furious, the channel being deep\nand full.\nThey had not searched long but they found three trees that they thought\nlarge enough, and they immediately went to work with them, felled and\nshaped them, and, in four days' time they had three handsome canoes, one\nlarger than the rest, and able to carry in all fifteen or sixteen men;\nbut these were not enough, so they were forced to look out farther, for\ntwo trees more, and this took them up more time. However, in about a\nweek, they launched them all; as for days, they had lost their account\nof time, so that, as they had sometimes no rule to distinguish one day\nfrom another, so at last they quite forgot the days, and knew not a\nSunday from a working-day any longer.\nWhile these canoes were making, the men, according to the old trade,\nfell to rummaging the shores of this river, as they had done the other,\nfor gold, nor did they wholly lose their labour, for, in several places,\nthey found some; and here it was that a certain number of them, taking\none of the canoes that were first made, took a voyage of their own\nheads, not only without command, but against command; and, having made a\nlittle mast and sail to it, went up towards the lake, resolving to go\nquite into the lake to find another golden shore, or gold coast, as they\ncalled it.\nTo give a particular account of this wild undertaking, would be too\nlong, nor would the rogues give much account of it themselves; only, in\nshort, that they found a sand pretty rich in gold, worked upon it five\ndays indefatigably, and got a sufficient quantity, had they brought it\nback, to have tempted the rest to have gone all away to the same place.\nBut, at the end of five days, some were for returning and others for\nstaying longer, till the majority prevailed to come back, representing\nto the rest, that their friends would be gone, and they should be left\nto starve in that wild country, and should never get home; so they all\ngot into the canoe again, but quarrelled when they were in, and that to\nsuch an unreasonable height, that, in short, they fought, overset the\nboat, lost all their gold and their arms, except three muskets which\nwere lashed under their thouts, or benches of the canoe, spoiled their\nammunition and provisions, and drowned one of their company, so they\ncame home to the rest mortified, wet, and almost famished.\nThis was a balk to them, and put a damp to their new projects; and yet\nsix of the same men were so bold afterwards as to demand to be\ndismissed, and a canoe given them, and they would go back they said to\nthe golden lake, where, they did not doubt, they should load the canoe\nwith gold; and, if they found when they came back we were gone, they\nwould find their way back through the mountains, and go to the rich\nSpaniard, who, they did not doubt, would get them license to go back to\nEurope with the galleons, and perhaps, they said, they might be in\nEngland before us.\nBut the captain quelled this mutiny, though there were four or five more\ncame into it. By showing them the agreement they had made with me, their\ncommander, the obligation they were under, and the madness of their\nother proposal, he prevailed with them to go forward with the rest, and\npursue the voyage, which he now represented to be very easy, being as it\nwere, all the way downhill, that is to say, with the stream, for they\nall knew the river they were in must go to the sea, and that in or near\nthe latitude which they knew the ship had appointed to wait for them.\nHowever, to soften them a little, and in some measure to please them, he\npromised, that if they met with any success in the search after gold in\nthe river they were in, as he did not question but they should, he would\nconsent to any reasonable stop that they should propose, not exceeding\nfive days in a place, and the places to be not less than five leagues\noff from one another.\nUpon these terms they consented, and all embarked and came away, though\nextremely mortified for the loss of one of their companions, who was a\nbrave stout fellow, very well beloved by all the company, but there was\nno remedy; so they came on in five canoes, and with a good stock of\nprovisions, such as it was, viz., good fresh beef cured in the sun, and\nfifteen Peruvian sheep alive; for, when they got into the country\nbetween the two rivers, they found it easy to catch those creatures, who\nbefore that would not come near them.\nAnd now they came down the river apace, till they came to another golden\nshore, where, finding some quantity of gold, they claimed their\ncaptain's promise, and, accordingly, they went all on shore to work, and\npretty good success they had, picking up from among the sands a\nconsiderable quantity of gold, and, having stayed four of the five days,\nthey found that they had cleared the place, which was not of a long\nextent, and so they cheerfully came on.\nThey proceeded now for eleven days together very willingly, but then\nfound the channel of the river divided itself, and one went away to the\nleft, and the other to the right. They could not judge which was the\nbest to take; but not questioning but that they would meet again soon,\nthey took the southernmost channel, as being most direct in their\nlatitude; and thus they coursed for three or four days more, when they\nwere obliged to put into the mouth of a little river that fell into the\nother, and made a good harbour for their little fleet.\nHere, I say, they were obliged to put in for want of provisions, for\nthey had eaten up all their guinacoes, and their two tame bulls too, the\nlast of which they soon repented, as will be shown presently.\nAfter they had been a-hunting, and shot a couple of deer and a cow, with\na kind of hare, as large as an English fox, they set forward again very\nmerry, and the more, because they had another little piece of a gold\ncoast, where, for two days, they had very good luck again; but judge how\nthey were surprised, and in what a consternation they were, when, coming\nfarther down the same river, they heard a terrible noise in the river,\nas of a mighty cataract, or waterfall, which increased as they came\nforward, till it grew so loud that they could not hear themselves\nspeak, much less hear one another.\nAs they approached, it was the more frightful; so at length, lest they\nshould be hurried into it before they were aware, they went all on\nshore, doing all by signs and dumb postures, for it was impossible to\nhear any sound but that of the cataract.\nThough the noise was so great, it was near six miles to the place from\nwhence it came, which, when they perceived, some of them went back to\nbring on the boats, and so brought them as near the place as they durst,\nand ran them on shore into a little hollow part of the bank, just large\nenough to hold them. When they had thus secured the boats, they went to\nview the waterfall; but how were they astonished, when they found that\nthere were no less than five waterfalls, at the distance of about two\nmiles from each other, some more, some less, and that the water fell\nfrom a prodigious height; so that it was impossible for any boat to\nlaunch down the cataract without being dashed in pieces.\nThe men now saw there was no remedy but that they must lose the benefit\nof their five canoes, which had been so comfortable to them, and by\nwhich they had come above four hundred miles in a little time, with\nsafety and pleasure.\nThese cataracts made the river perfectly useless to them for above\ntwenty miles, and it was impossible to drag their canoes that length\nover land; so, in short, they unloaded them, and, for their own\nsatisfaction, they turned one, the biggest of them, adrift, and let it\ngo to the first cataract, placing themselves so beyond that they might\nsee it come down, which they did, and had the vexation of seeing it\ndashed all to pieces on the rocks below.\nAs there was no remedy, they plainly saw they must leave their boats\nbehind them. And now, as I have said, they had time to repent killing\ntheir two tamed bulls, who would have done them good service; but it was\ntoo late to look back upon what was done and over so many days before.\nThey had now no means left them, if they would go forward, but to take\ntheir baggage upon their shoulders and travel on foot. The only help\nthey had was, that they had got five guinacoes left, which, though they\nwere hungry, and would fain have eaten, yet, as they had carried at\nleast five hundred weight of their luggage, they chose to fast and walk\nrather than feast and work; so they went on as well as they could till\nthey got past these falls, which, though not above twenty miles, cost\nthem five days' labour; at the end of which, they encamped again to\nrefresh themselves, and consider of what was next to be done. They were\nthus long upon this short journey for many reasons.\n1. Because they were obliged to employ the best part of two days in\nhunting for their food, in which time, five of them swimming over the\nriver to shoot at some black cattle, extremely fatigued themselves in\npursuing them, but did, however, shoot five cows and bulls; but then it\nwas at such a distance, that it was more pains to drag the flesh along\nto the river's side than it was worth, only that they were indeed\nhunger-starved, and must have it.\n2. They found still some little quantity of gold in the water, that is\nto say, below the falls, where the water, by falling with great force,\nhad made a pit or hole of a vast depth, and had thrown up a shoal again,\nat perhaps a little distance, where they took up some gold whenever the\nwater was low enough to come at it.\n3. The weight of their baggage made them travel heavy, and seldom above\nfive or six miles a day.\nBeing now come to the open river, they thought of building more floats;\nbut they were discouraged from this consideration by not knowing but in\na few days' march there might be more waterfalls, and then all their\nlabour would be lost; so they took up their tent and began to travel\nagain.\nBut here, as they kept the river close on board, as the seamen call it,\nthey were at a full stop, by the coming in of another river from the\nsouth-west, which, when it joined the river they were along by, was\nabove a quarter of a mile broad, and how to get over it they knew not.\nThey sent two men up the additional river some length, and they brought\nword that it was indeed narrower by much, but nowhere fordable, but deep\nand rapid.\nAt the same time they sent two more nimble fellows down the coast of the\ngreat river, to see if there were any more waterfalls, who brought them\nword that there were none for upwards of sixty miles.\nWhile they lay here, at the point of the influx, expecting the return of\ntheir scouts, they used what diligence they could in getting provisions;\nand among the rest, they killed three cows and a bull on the other side\nof the largest river; but not knowing how to bring them over, they at\nlast concluded to go, as many as could swim, which was the better half\nof them, and sit down by it, and roast and broil upon the spot as much\nas they could eat, and then bring with them, as much as they could for\ntheir companions.\nFor this purpose they got boughs of trees, and bound them together, then\nwrapped the meat in the hides, and laid it on the wood, and made a\nnumber of little contrivances to convey it, so that no part of the meat\nwas lost. What they got on their own side of the river they made better\nshift with.\nOn the return of their scouts they found there was no remedy but to\nbuild some new vessels, of one kind or other, to take in their baggage\nand provision, which they made after the manner of their first floats;\nfor they found no trees large enough to make canoes; when, therefore,\nthey had made one great float, they resolved to make two small boats,\nlike yawls or skiffs, with which they might tow their large float or\nbarge; and as this they might do with small timbers, so they found means\nto line them within and without with the bulls' hides, and that so\ndexterously joined, and lapped and rolled one over another, that no\nwater came through, or but very little.\nWith these two boats they ferried over the small rivers with ease, each\nboat carrying six men, besides two to row; and when they were over the\nsmall rivers, the two boats served to tow their great punt or barge\nclose by the shore.\nThe greatest difficulty was for tow-lines to draw the boats by, and\nthose they supplied by twisting a strong tough kind of flag or rush,\nwhich they found in the river, of which, with much application and\nlabour, they made a kind of rope-yarn, and then twisting it again, made\nit very strong.\nThis was the voiture with which they conveyed themselves quite down to\nthe sea, and one of these boats it was that we spied, as above, coming\nto us in the bay.\nThey had yet above four hundred and fifty miles to the sea, nor could\nthey at any time tell or guess how far off it might be. They went on\nmore or less every day, but it was but slowly, and not without great\nlabour, both of rowing and towing. Their provisions also cost them much\npains, for they were obliged first to hunt and kill it, and then bring\nit to the camp, which, however, was always close to the river's side.\nAfter they had travelled thus some time, following the course of the\nriver, they came to a place, where, on a sudden, they could see no\nfarther bank of the river, but it looked all water, like the sea. This\nthey could not account for; so, the next day, they rowed towards it with\none of their little boats, when they were surprised to find that it was\nthe northern branch of the river, which they had seen go off before they\ncame at the waterfalls, which river being now increased with many other\ngreat waters, was now so great, that the mouth of it might be said to be\nfour or five miles over, and rather received the river they were on,\nthan ran into that; but, after this, it contracted itself again, though\nstill it was to be supposed near a mile and a half over.\nThey were far from being pleased at this conjunction of the waters,\nbecause the great water being thus joined, they found the stream or\ncurrent more violent, and the water, upon the least stirring of the\nwind, more turbulent than it was before, and as their great float drew\nbut little water, and swam flat upon the surface, she was ready to\nfounder upon every occasion. This obliged them almost every night to\nseek for some little cove or creek to run her into, as into a harbour,\nto preserve her; for, when the wind blew from shore, they had enough to\ndo to keep her from driving off from the river, and, when there was but\nlittle wind, yet it made a rippling or chopping of the waves, that they\nhad much difficulty to keep them from filling her.\nAll the country on the side of this river was a little higher ground\nthan ordinary, which was its security from land-floods, and their\nsecurity too; for sometimes the river was seen to rise, and that so much\nas to overflow a great extent of land on the other side. Hence, perhaps,\nthe other side might be esteemed the most fruitful, and perhaps might be\nthe better land, if it had but half the art and industry of an European\nnation to assist the natural fertility of the soil, by keeping the water\nin its bounds, banking and fencing the meadows from the inundations and\nfreshes, which were frequently sent down from the Andes and from the\ncountry adjoining.\nBut, as it now was, those lower lands lay great part of the year under\nwater; whether it was the better or worse for the soil, that no judgment\ncan be made of, till some people come to settle there to whom it may be\nworth while to make experiments of that kind.\nThis part of the country they were now in resembled, as they hinted, the\ncounty of Dorsetshire and the downs about Salisbury, only not lying so\nhigh from the surface of the water, and the soil being a good fruitful\ndark mould, not a chalky solid rock, as in the country about Salisbury,\nand some other parts.\nHere they found a greater quantity of deer than they had seen in all\ntheir journey, which they often had the good luck to kill for their\nsupply of food, the creatures not being so shy and wild as they had\nfound farther within the country.\nIt may be noted here, and it is very observable, that in all this\njourney I could not learn that they saw either wolf or fox, bear or\nlion, or, indeed, any other ravenous creature, which they had the least\nreason to be shy or afraid of, or which, indeed, were frightful to the\ndeer; and this, perhaps, may be the reason why the number of the latter\nanimals is so great, which, as I have said, is greater there than at\nother places.\nAfter they had feasted themselves here for some days, they resolved to\nbegin their new kind of navigation, and to see what they could make of\nit; but they went very heavily along, and every now and then, as I have\nsaid, the water was too rough for them, and they were fain to put into\nharbour, and sometimes lie there two or three days. However, they plyed\ntheir time as well as they could, and sometimes the current setting over\nto their side, and running strong by the shore, they would go at a great\nrate, insomuch that one time they said they went about thirty miles in a\nday, having, besides the current, a little gale of wind right astern.\nThey reckoned that they went near two hundred miles in this manner, for\nthey made the best of it; and at the end of these two hundred miles, it\nwas, by their reckoning, that our five men who travelled into the\ncountry so far, found them, when they saw the hat swimming down the\nstream; which hat, it seems, one of them let fall overboard in the\nnight.\nThey had, I say, travelled thus far with great difficulty, the river\nbeing so large; but, as they observed it growing larger and larger the\nfarther they went, so, they said, they did not doubt, but that, in a\nlittle more, they should come to the sea.\nThey also observed, that now, as they found the waters larger and the\nrivers wider, they killed more fowls than formerly, and, particularly,\nmore of the duck-foot kind, though they could not perceive any\nsea-fowls, or such as they had been used to. They saw a great many wild\nswans, and some geese, as also duck, mallard, and teal; and these, I\nsay, increased as they drew nearer the sea.\nThey could give very little account of the fish which the rivers\nproduced, though they sometimes catched a few in the smaller river; but,\nas they had neither fishing-hook or nets, which was the only omission in\nmy fitting them out, they had no opportunity to furnish themselves.\nThey had, likewise, no salt, neither was it possible to furnish them\nwith any, so they cured their meat in the sun, and seasoned it with that\nexcellent sauce called hunger.\nThe account they gave of discovering our five men was thus. They had\nbeen, for two days, pretty successful in their navigation, as I have\ndescribed it, but were obliged to stop, and put in at the mouth of a\nlittle river, which made them a good harbour. The reason of their stay\nwas, they had no victuals, so by consent they all went a-hunting, and,\nat night, having shot two guinacoes and a deer, they went to supper\ntogether in their great tent; and, having fed heartily on such good\nprovisions, they began to be merry, and the captain and officers, having\na little store left, though not much, they pulled out their bottles, and\ndrank every one a dram to their good voyage, and to the merry meeting of\ntheir ships, and gave every man the same.\nBut their mirth was increased beyond expressing, when two of the men,\nwho were without the tent door, cried out, it lightened. One said he saw\nthe flash, he was sure, and the other said, he thought he saw it too;\nbut, as it happened, their backs were towards the east, so that they did\nnot see the occasion.\nThis lightning was certainly the first flash of one of our five men's\nrockets, or the breaking of it, and the stars that were at the end of\nit, up in the air.\nWhen the captain heard the men say it lightened, he jumped from his\nseat, and called aloud to them to tell which way; but they foolishly\nreplied, to the north-west, which was the way their faces were when they\nsaw it; but the word was no sooner spoken but the two fellows fell\na-hallooing and roaring, as if they were distracted, and said they saw\na rocket rise up in the air to the eastward.\nSo nimble were the men at this word, that they were all out of the tent\nin a moment, and saw the last flash of the rocket with the stars, which,\nspreading themselves in the air, shone with the usual bright light that\nit is known those fireworks give.\nThis made them all set up a shout of joy, as if they imagined their\nfellows, who were yet many miles from them, should hear them; but the\ncaptain and officers, who knew what they were to do on this occasion,\nran to their baggage, and took out their own rockets, and other\nmaterials, and prepared to answer the signal.\nThey were on a low ground, but, at less than a mile distant, the land\nwent ascending up to a round crown or knoll, pretty high; away they ran\nthither, and set up a frame in an instant. But, as they were making\nthese preparations, behold, to confirm their news, they saw a third\nrocket rise up in the air, in the same place as before.\nIt was near an hour from the first flash, as they called it, before they\ncould get all things ready; but then they fired two rockets from the\nadjoining hill, soon after one another, and, after that, at about ten\nminutes' distance of time, a third, which was just as by agreement, and\nwas perfectly understood, the rockets performing extremely well.\nUpon this they saw another single rocket rise up, which was to let them\nknow that their former was seen and understood.\nThis was, you will conclude, a very joyful night, and the next morning\nthey went all hands to work at the boats, getting out of the creek\nearly, and made the best of their way. However, with all they could do,\nthey could not go above twelve miles that day, for the current setting\nover to the other shore, had left them, and in some places, they would\nrather have an eddy stream against them, and this discouraged them a\nlittle, but, depending that they were near their port, and that their\nfriends were not far off, they were very cheerful. At night they looked\nout again for rockets, the sight of which failed not to rejoice their\nhearts again, and with this addition, that it appeared their friends\nwere not above four or five miles off; they answered the rockets\npunctually, and proceeding early the next day, they met in the morning\njoyfully enough, as has been said.\nWe were overjoyed at meeting, as may be easily conceived; but, to see\nthe pitiful boat, or periagua, they came on board in, a little surprised\nus; for, indeed, it was a wonder they should be able to make it swim\nunder them, especially when they came out into the open sea.\nAs soon as we had the boat in reach, we hauled it up into the ship for a\nrelic, and, taking two of the men with us, we manned out all our ship's\nboats to go and fetch the rest, for they were, as these men told us,\nabout seventeen miles up the river still, and could not come any\nfarther, their boats being not able to bring them along, and the river\ngrowing very broad and dangerous. The eldest of my midshipmen came in\nthis first boat, but the captain and the other stayed with the men, who\nwere very unruly, and frequently quarrelling and wrangling about their\nwealth, which, indeed, was very considerable; but they were above twice\nas far up the river as the men told us, having halted after the boat\nleft them.\nWhen our boats came to them, and took them in, I ordered they should be\nset on shore, and their tents put up there, till I had settled matters a\nlittle with them, having had an account how mutinous and fractious they\nhad been; and I made them all stay there till I had fully adjusted\neverything with them about their treasure, which, indeed, was so much,\nthat they scarce knew how to govern themselves under the thought of it.\nHere I proposed conditions to them at first, that all the gold should be\nshared before they went on board, and that it should be put on board the\nship, as goods for every man's single account; that I would give them\nbills of lading for it; and I offered to swear to them to deliver it\ninto every man's possession, separately, at the first port we should\ncome to an anchor at in England or France; and that, at that said port,\nthey should every man have the 100_l._ I had promised them, as above,\nfor the undertaking this journey, delivered to them in gold dust, to\nthat amount, and that they, alone, should have full liberty to go on\nshore with it, and go whither they would, no man whatever but themselves\nbeing allowed to set foot on shore in the same place, distress excepted.\nThis they insisted on, because they had done some things, they said,\nwhich, if I would, I might bring some of them to the gallows. However, I\npromised to forgive them, and to inquire no more after it.\nIn a word, there had been a scuffle among them, in which one of their\ncanoes was overset, as was said, and one of their number drowned, at the\nsame time when they lost a great part of their gold; and some were\nthought to have done it maliciously too.\nBut, as I had no occasion to trouble them on that score, not having been\nupon the spot when it was done, so, having made this capitulation with\nthem, I performed it punctually, and set them all on shore, with their\nwealth, in the river of Garonne, in France; their own gold, their\n100_l._'s worth reward for their journey, their wages, and their share\nof pearl, and other advantages, made them very rich; for their cargo,\nwhen cast up on shore, amounted to about 400_l._ a man. How they\ndisposed of themselves, or their money, I never gave myself the trouble\nto inquire, and if I had, it is none of my business to give an account\nof it here.\nWe dismissed also near fourscore more of our men afterwards, in a little\ncreek, which was at their own request; for most of them having been of\nthe Madagascar men, and, by consequence, pirates, they were willing to\nbe easy, and I was as willing to make them so, and therefore cleared\nwith as many of them as desired it. But I return to our ship.\nHaving thus made a long capitulation with our travellers, I took them\nall on board, and had leisure enough to have a long narration from them\nof their voyage; and from which account, I take the liberty to recommend\nthat part of America as the best and most advantageous part of the whole\nglobe for an English colony, the climate, the soil, and, above all, the\neasy communication with the mountains of Chili, recommending it beyond\nany place that I ever saw or read of, as I shall farther make appear by\nitself.\nWe had nothing now to do, but to make the best of our way for England;\nand setting sail from the mouth of the river Camerones, so the Spaniards\ncall it, the 18th of January, in which we had a more difficult and\nunpleasant voyage than in any other part of our way, chiefly because,\nbeing a rich ship, and not knowing how affairs stood in Europe, I kept\nto the northward as far as the banks of Newfoundland, steering thence to\nthe coast of Galicia, where we touched as above; after which, we went\nthrough the Channel, and arrived safe in Dunkirk road the 12th of April;\nand from thence gave private notice of our good fortune to our merchants\nand owners; two of whom came over to us, and received at our hands such\na treasure as gave them reason to be very well satisfied with their\nengagement. But, to my great grief, my particular friend, the merchant\nwho put us upon this adventure, and who was the principal means of our\nmaking the discoveries that have been here mentioned and described, was\ndead before our return; which, if it had not happened, this new scheme\nof a trade round the world had, perhaps, not been made public till it\nhad been put in practice by a set of merchants designed to be concerned\nin it from the New Austrian Netherlands.\nTHE END OF THE NEW VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  A New Voyage Round the World by a Course Never Sailed Before\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " Dutch\n", "content": "Produced by Anne Dreze, Annemie Arnst & Marc D'Hooghe at\navailable by the Hathi Trust)\nHET LEVEN\nEN\nDE LOTGEVALLEN\nVAN\nROBINSON CRUSOE,\nDOOR\nDANI\u00cbL DE FOE.\nTWEEDE DEEL.\nOP NIEUW UIT HET ENGELSCH VERTAALD.\nTE AMSTERDAM, BIJ\nJ.F. SCHLEIJER.\nHET LEVEN EN DE LOTGEVALLEN\nvan\nROBINSON CRUSOE.\nLezers, ons gewone Engelsche spreekwoord, dat wat in het gebeente zit,\nniet uit het vleesch zal gaan, werd bij niemand meer dan bij mij\nbevestigd. Iedereen zou denken, dat na vijf en dertig jaren vol\nrampspoed en eene menigte ongelukken, zoo als zelden of nooit iemand\nondervond, en na bijkans zeven jaren rust en welvaart in alle opzigten\ngenoten te hebben; en nu ik oud was, en zoo goed als iemand zeggen mogt,\nin mijne mannelijke jaren ondervinding opgedaan te hebben, ik zeg, na\ndit alles zou men denken, dat de zucht tot zwerven, die, gelijk ik\nverhaald heb, mij aangeboren was, wel zou uitgebluscht zijn, en ik op\nmijn een en zestigste jaar weinig lust kon hebben mijn vaderland te\nverlaten en mijn leven en bezittingen op nieuw in gevaar te stellen.\nWat meer is, ik had geene reden meer om buitenlandsche avonturen te\nzoeken; want ik behoefde mijne fortuin niet meer te maken. Al had ik\ntienduizend Pond St. verdiend, ik zou er niet rijker om geweest zijn,\nwant ik bezat reeds genoeg voor mij en voor hen, dien ik het nalaten\nzou; en het vermeerderde nog dagelijks; want daar ik een kleine familie\nhad, kon ik mijne inkomsten niet verteren, of ik had eene andere\nlevenswijze moeten aannemen; zoo als een groot huishouden opzetten,\nknechts en paarden houden, gastmalen geven, en zoo voorts; dingen,\nwaarvan ik geen verstand, noch lust toe had; zoodat ik slechts behoefde\nstil te zitten en te genieten wat ik had, om dit nog dagelijks onder\nmijne handen te zien aangroeijen.\nDit alles maakte echter geen indruk op mij, althans niet genoeg om mij\nden lust te benemen, om weder buiten 's lands te gaan, dat eene\naangeboren kwaal bij mij scheen te zijn; vooral maalde mij de begeerte,\nmijn eiland en de kolonie, die ik daar achtergelaten had, weder te zien,\nmij gestadig door het hoofd. Des nachts droomde ik er van, en over dag\npeinsde ik er gestadig over, tot dat mijne verbeelding zoo werd, dat ik\nin mijn slaap er over sprak. Kortom, niets kon dit mij uit het gemoed\nzetten; en het werd daardoor zelfs lastig met mij om te gaan, want ik\nkon nergens anders over spreken, maar had er, tot walgens toe, altijd\nden mond vol van.\nIk heb dikwijls verstandige lieden hooren zeggen, dat al wat men lieden\nvan spoken of geesten hoort verhalen, alleen zijn oorsprong heeft in\nhunne eigene sterk gespannen verbeelding; dat er geesten noch spoken\nverschijnen, maar dat men door gestadig aan afgestorvenen te denken, zoo\nver komt van zich eindelijk te verbeelden, dat men die bij buitengewone\ngelegenheden ziet, met hun spreekt en antwoord ontvangt; terwijl alles\nslechts ijdelheid, bedrog en zelfbegoocheling is.\nWat mij betreft, ik weet niet dat er spoken zijn, of dat er in de\nspookgeschiedenissen, die men hoort, iets anders dan de werking eener\nverhitte verbeeldingskracht is; maar dit weet ik, dat mijne verbeelding\nzoo gaande raakte, dat ik mij somtijds verbeelden kon op het eiland, in\nmijn oud kasteel achter het geboomte te zijn; dan zag ik mijn ouden\nSpanjaard, Vrijdags vader, en de schelmsche matrozen, die er achter\ngebleven waren; soms verbeeldde ik mij, dat ik met hen sprak; en daar\ndit niet in mijn slaap, maar als ik wakker was, gebeurde, werd ik\neindelijk bevreesd hoe dit alles zou afloopen. Eens in mijn slaap\nverbeeldde ik mij duidelijk, dat de oude Spanjaard en Vrijdags vader mij\nde slechtheid der drie matrozen verhaalden, zij vertelden hoe deze al de\noverige Spanjaarden hadden willen vermoorden, en zij hunnen voorraad van\nlevensmiddelen hadden in brand gestoken, om hen te laten verhongeren;\ndingen, waarvan ik nooit gehoord had, en die ook later bleken onwaar te\nzijn. Dit alles stond mij zoo levendig voor den geest, dat ik niet\nanders dacht of het was waarlijk zoo; ook hoe ik op de aanklagt der\nSpanjaards dit bestrafte, hen voor mij als regter daagde, en alle drie\nveroordeelde om opgehangen te worden. Wat hiervan waarheid is zal men\nlater zien, hoezeer dit was, moet ik zeggen, zeer veel. Wel was er niets\nletterlijk zoo gebeurd als in mijn droom, maar toch had het slechte\ngedrag der schelmen veel overeenkomst daarmede, en zoo wel als ik hen\nnaderhand gestreng wilde straffen, had ik hen toen kunnen laten\nophangen, en zou gelijk gehad hebben, en mijn gedrag door Goddelijke en\nmenschelijke wetten te regtvaardigen geweest zijn. Doch ik keer tot\nmijne geschiedenis terug.\nIk had in deze gemoedsgesteldheid nu eenige jaren geleefd. Ik had geen\ngenot van mijn leven; niets was er, dat mij vermaak verschafte, of dit\nwerd hierdoor getemperd; zoodat mijne vrouw, die bespeurde hoezeer mijn\nhart mij derwaarts trok, mij op zekeren avond ernstig onder het oog\nbragt, hoe zij het voor een geheimen aandrang der Voorzienigheid hield,\ndie besloten had, dat ik derwaarts zou gaan; en dat zij vond, dat mij\nniets hierin verhinderde dan mijne gehechtheid aan vrouw en kinderen.\nZij zeide, dat zij, wel is waar, er niet aan denken kon van mij te\nscheiden, maar dat zij zich verzekerd hield, dat het het eerste zijn\nzou, wat ik na haren dood deed, dat zij dus, daar het des Hemels wil\nscheen te zijn, niet de eenigste hinderpaal wilde zijn. Want dat als ik\nbesloten had te gaan.... Hier hield zij in verwarring op, om dat zij\nzag, dat ik met een zeer ernstig gelaat naar haar luisterde. Ik vroeg\nhaar waarom zij niet voortging en zeide wat haar op het hart lag. Maar\nik bemerkte, dat haar hart te vol was, en dat de tranen haar in de oogen\nkwamen.--\"Spreek verder, mijn beste,\" zeide ik, \"verlangt gij, dat ik\ngaan zoude?\"--\"Neen,\" zeide zij, \"verre vandaar. Maar zoo gij er toe\nbesloten hebt, wil ik, liever dan de eenigste hinderpaal te zijn, u\nvergezellen; want schoon het eene ontzettende onderneming voor iemand\nvan uwe jaren is, zoo wil ik echter, als het zijn moet,\" vervolgde zij\nweenende, \"u niet verlaten. Want is het des Hemels wil, dan moet gij het\ndoen, en zoo de Hemel wil, dat gij gaat, zal hij mij ook sterken om u te\nvergezellen, of maken, dat ik niet langer een hinderpaal daar tegen\nben!\"\nDit liefderijk gedrag mijner vrouw bragt mij een weinig tot andere\ngedachten, en ik begon over mijn voornemen na te denken. Ik beteugelde\nmijne verhitte verbeelding, en vroeg mij zelven af, wat ik, die zestig\njaren oud was, na zulk een leven vol ongevallen en lijden, dat op zulk\neene gelukkige wijze afgeloopen was, wat ik nog noodig had nieuwe\ngevaren te zoeken en avonturen, die alleen geschikt zijn voor jeugd en\narmoede.\nBovendien overwoog ik welke nieuwe betrekkingen ik had, dat ik eene\nvrouw en een kind had, en weldra een tweede mogt verwachten; dat ik\nalles bezat wat de wereld mij verschaffen kon, en niet noodig had\ngevaren te zoeken, om eenig geld te verdienen; dat ik oud begon te\nworden, en eerder denken moest datgene, wat ik gewonnen had, te\nverlaten, dan te trachten het te vermeerderen. Met hetgeen mijne vrouw\ngezegd had, dat het de wil des Hemels zijn kon, kon ik mij niet\nvereenigen; zoodat ik na veel weifelen eindelijk mijn voornemen opgaf,\nen mij zelven daartoe overreden met de gronden, die mij voor den geest\nkwamen. Als het beste middel daartegen echter, besloot ik eenige\nbezigheden aan te vangen, die mij in het vervolg voor soortgelijke\nbuitensporigheden zouden behoeden; want ik ondervond, dat dit verlangen\nmij meestal bekroop als ik niets te doen, noch iets van belang te\nwachten had.\nTe dien einde kocht ik een boerenplaats in het graafschap Bedford, en\nbesloot mij daar neder te zetten. Er stond een klein, gemakkelijk huis\nop, en ik bevond, dat het daarbij behoorende land voor veel verbetering\nvatbaar was, iets, wat zeer met mijne neiging strookte, want land\nontginnen, planten en bouwen was mijn lust; en daar het binnen in het\nland lag, was ik buiten allen omgang met schippers en schepen, en\ndingen, die tot andere werelddeelen betrekking hebben. Ik ging dan met\nmijn gezin mijne boerderij betrekken, kocht ploegen, eggen, een kar, een\nwagen, paarden, koeijen, schapen, en ging ijverig aan het werk, zoodat\nik binnen een half jaar een volslagen landedelman was geworden. Mijne\ngedachten waren uitsluitend gevestigd op mijne knechts, het bouwen en\nplanten, enz., en ik leidde, naar mij dacht, het aangenaamste leven,\nwaartoe iemand, die altijd tot ongelukken bestemd was, in staat was.\nIk bouwde mijn eigen land, behoefde geen pacht te betalen, en kon in\nalles mijn eigen hoofd volgen, bouwen of afbreken, naar ik goedvond. Wat\nik kweekte was voor mij, wat ik verbeterde was voor mijn gezin, en toen\nal mijne neiging tot zwerven mij verlaten scheen te hebben, was er niets\nin mijn leven, dat mij kwelde. Nu meende ik tot dien staat gekomen te\nzijn, dien mijn vader mij zoo ernstig aangeraden had, die levenswijze,\ndie de dichter noemt: \"bevrijd van ondeugden en smarten; waar de\nouderdom geene zorgen, de jeugd geene valstrikken kent.\"\nMaar te midden van dit geluk werd het door eene beschikking der\nVoorzienigheid mij op eens ontnomen. Deze slag trof mij, mag ik zeggen,\ntot in mijn binnenste, en deed mijn lust tot zwerven weder ontwaken, die\nmij ingeschapen zijnde, als eene ziekte met onweerstaanbare kracht mij\nweder overviel, zoo dat ik tot niets meer geschikt was. Deze slag was de\ndood mijner vrouw. Ik wil hier geene lofrede op haar houden, of hare\ndeugden in het bijzonder opsommen. Zij was de steun van al mijne\nverrigtingen; het middenpunt van al mijne ondernemingen; de wijze\nraadsvrouw, die mij van de heillooze voornemens, die mij steeds door het\nhoofd maalden, wist af te houden; en die hiertoe meer deed dan mijn\nmoeders tranen, mijn vaders wijze lessen, vriendenraad en mijn eigen\ngezond verstand ooit vermogten. Ik was gelukkig als ik naar hare\nsmeekingen luisterde en aan hare tranen toegaf; en uiterst rampzalig en\nvan alles beroofd door haren dood.\nToen ik haar verloren had, was de wereld mij een walg; in mijn vaderland\nachtte ik mij evenzeer een vreemdeling als in Brazili\u00eb, toen ik daar het\neerst aan wal stapte; en even verlaten, met uitzondering van de hulp van\nknechts, als op mijn eiland. Ik zag iedereen rondom mij bezig; de een\nzwoegde voor zijn brood, de ander verspilde zijn geld in lage\nlosbandigheden of ijdele vermaken; en beide even ongelukkig, omdat zij\nhun doel niet konden bereiken; want dagelijks walgden de najagers van\nhet vermaak meer van hunne genoegens, en zamelden steeds meer redenen\ntot ellende en naberouw; terwijl de arme dagelijks zwoegde om een\nschamel stuk brood te verwerven, levende in eenen gedurigen kring van\nzorg en kommer, en alleen om zooveel te verdienen, dat zij niet van\ngebrek omkwamen.\nDit bragt mij mijne levenswijze en mijn koningrijk, mijn eiland, weder\nte binnen, waar ik geen meer graan kweekte, omdat ik niet meer noodig\nhad; waar ik geen meer geiten aanfokte, daar ik geen meer gebruiken kon;\nwaar het geld lag te beschimmelen, en naauwelijks eens in twintig jaren\nmet eenen blik verwaardigd werd. Zoo ik uit deze bedenkingen het regte\nnut getrokken had, gelijk ik had moeten doen, en rede en godsdienst mij\nleerden, zouden zij mij geleerd hebben naar een volmaakter geluk te\ntrachten, dan de genoegens des levens mij konden verschaffen; en dat er\neen doel van ons bestaan was, dat men aan deze zijde des grafs bereiken,\nalthans er naar streven konde. Doch mijne wijze raadgeefster was\nverdwenen; ik was als een schip zonder loods, dat zich door den wind op\ngoed geluk laat voortdrijven. Mijne gedachten waren steeds bij mijne\nvroegere verrigtingen en op vreemde avonturen gevestigd. De schuldelooze\ngenoegens van mijn akker- en tuinbouw en huisgezin, die mij vroeger\ngeheel bezig hielden, waren thans voor mij als muzijk voor een doove, en\nlekkernijen voor iemand, die geen smaak heeft. Ik besloot eindelijk\nmijne huishouding op te breken, mijn goed te verkoopen, en naar Londen\nte gaan, gelijk ik weinige maanden daarna deed.\nTe Londen was ik even onrustig als vroeger, de plaats beviel mij niet;\nik had er niets te doen dan rond te slenteren, als een luiaard, van wien\nmen zeggen kon, dat hij op Gods aardbodem van geen het minste nut is, en\nhet iedereen onverschillig is of hij leeft of dood is. Dit was mij al\nmijn leven de onaangenaamste toestand, daar ik altijd aan een werkzaam\nleven gewoon geweest was, en dikwijls zeide ik tot mijzelven: \"een lui\nleven is een ellendig leven,\" en waarlijk ik begreep, dat ik mijn tijd\nveel beter besteed had, toen ik zes en twintig dagen werkte, om eene\nplank te maken.\nIn het begin van 1698 kwam mijn neef, dien ik, gelijk ik verhaald heb,\nnaar zee gezonden en kapitein gemaakt had op een schip, terug van een\nreisje naar Bilbao. Hij kwam bij mij en verhaalde, dat eenige kooplieden\nvan zijne kennis hem voorgesteld hadden, voor hen een reis naar\nOost-Indi\u00eb en China te doen. \"En als gij nu mede wilt gaan, oom,\" zeide\nhij, \"verbind ik mij u aan uw oud verblijf op het eiland aan land te\nzetten, want wij zullen Brazili\u00eb aandoen.\"\nMijn neef wist niet hoe mijn zucht tot reizen weder bij mij ontwaakt\nwas, en ik niets van hetgeen hij mij wilde voorslaan; doch dien zelfden\nmorgen had ik, na alles overwogen te hebben, het besluit genomen van\nnaar Lissabon te gaan, om met mijn ouden kapitein te raadplegen, en als\nhet verstandig en uitvoerbaar was, mijn eiland weder te gaan opzoeken,\nen zien wat er van het volk daarop geworden was. Het denkbeeld streelde\nmij van de plaats te bevolken, inboorlingen van hier derwaarts over te\nbrengen; en een octrooi of acte te verkrijgen, waarbij het mij wettig\ntoegewezen werd; toen juist mijn neef inkwam met zijn voorslag, mij\ndaarheen te brengen op zijne reis naar Oost-Indi\u00eb.\nIk zweeg eenigen tijd, terwijl ik hem strak aanzag. \"Wie duivel heeft u\ndie ongelukkige boodschap ingegeven?\" vroeg ik. Mijn neef ontzette op\ndeze vraag, maar ziende, dat hij er mij niet mede mishaagde, zeide hij:\n\"Ik hoop, dat het geen ongelukkige voorslag zal geweest zijn, oom. Ik\ndacht, dat gij verlangde uwe nieuwe kolonie te zien, waar gij eens\ngelukkiger regeerde dan de meeste uwer broeders, de koningen en vorsten,\nin hunne rijken doen.\"\nHet voorstel strookte zoo zeer met mijn verlangen, dat ik hem met korte\nwoorden zeide, dat ik mede zou gaan, als de andere kooplieden er in\ntoestemden. \"Maar ik beloof u niet verder dan mijn eiland mede te gaan,\"\nzeide ik.--\"Wel oom! ik hoop toch niet, dat gij daar zult willen\nachterblijven,\" hernam hij.--\"Kunt gij mij op de tehuisreis niet weder\nafhalen?\" hervatte ik.--\"Dat zou onmogelijk zijn,\" zeide hij, \"want de\nreeders zouden nimmer toestaan, dat een zoo rijkgeladen schip zulk een\nomweg maakte, daar misschien een, misschien drie of vier maanden mede\nkonden heengaan. Bovendien, als ik schipbreuk leed,\" voegde hij er bij,\n\"en in het geheel niet terugkeerde, zoudt gij u in denzelfden toestand\nals vroeger bevinden.\"\nDit was verstandig gesproken, maar wij vonden er spoedig een middel op,\nnamelijk om een uit elkander genomen sloepscheepje aan boord te nemen,\ndat door eenige timmerlieden, die wij zouden medenemen, op het eiland\nineengezet, en in weinige dagen klaar kon zijn, om zee te bouwen. Ik\nbleef dan ook niet lang besluiteloos, want het verlangen van mijnen neef\nen het mijne stemden volkomen overeen. Daar aan den anderen kant mijne\nvrouw dood was, was er niemand, die mij raad kon geven dan mijne oude\nvriendin, de weduwe, die mij ernstig smeekte mijne jaren, mijne\nonbekrompen omstandigheden, de gevaren eener lange reis, en bovenal\nmijne nog zoo jonge kinderen te bedenken. Doch niets baatte; ik had zulk\neene begeerte die reis te doen, dat ik haar zeide, dat mijn geest er zoo\nmede vervuld was, dat ik geloofde de Voorzienigheid tegen te streven,\nzoo ik te huis bleef. Zij berustte er dus in, en verleende mij hulp niet\nalleen voor mijne uitrusting, maar ook voor het schikken mijner zaken en\nde opvoeding mijner kinderen, gedurende mijne afwezigheid. Ik maakte\nmijn testament, en zoodanige beschikkingen, dat ik volmaakt gerust was,\ndat mijne kinderen na mijn dood ontvangen zouden wat hun toekwam. Hunne\nopvoeding liet ik geheel aan de weduwe over, met genoegzamen onderstand,\nom haar voor alle gebrek te vrijwaren. Dit alles verdiende zij dubbel,\nwant geen moeder kon beter voor hunne opvoeding bezorgd of geschikt\ngeweest zijn; en daar zij bij mijne tehuiskomst nog leefde, mogt ik haar\ndaarvoor nog mijne dankbaarheid bewijzen.\nMijn neef was in het begin van Januarij 1694 zeilree, en ik ging met\nVrijdag den 8sten aan boord te Duins, hebbende behalve de sloep, eene\ngroote lading van allerlei noodwendigheden voor mijne kolonie, die ik\nbesloot in eenen goeden staat te verlaten, als ik ze daarin niet\naantrof. In de eerste plaats nam ik eenige lieden mede, die ik daar als\nkolonisten wilde achterlaten, althans voor mij gedurende mijn verblijf\naldaar laten werken, en ze achterlaten of medenemen, naar zij zouden\nverkiezen; vooral had ik twee timmerlieden, een smid, en een zeer\nhandige, vlugge knaap, die eigenlijk een kuiper van beroep was, maar\nallerlei werktuigen kon maken en uitdenken. Hij was een goed\nwieldraaijer, en kon handmolens maken, om koren te malen, en kon van\nklei of hout alles maken, wat men wilde. Aan boord noemde men hem altijd\nde duizendkunstenaar.\nBovendien nam ik een kleermaker mede, die als passagier naar Oost-Indi\u00eb\nwilde gaan, maar naderhand er in toestemde, in mijne kolonie te blijven,\nen die, gelijk later bleek, een onontbeerlijke en vlugge knaap was in\nvele opzigten buiten zijn beroep; want de noodzakelijkheid is de moeder\nvan vele kunsten.\nMijne lading bestond, voor zoo ver ik onthouden heb, want ik heb er\ngeene lijst meer van, uit genoegzaam linnen en ligt Engelsch laken, om\nal de Spanjaards, die ik daar verwachtte te vinden, te kleeden, en zoo\nveel als naar mijne rekening voor zeven jaren voor hen genoeg was. Als\nik het wel heb, kostten de stoffen voor kleeding, met handschoenen,\nhoeden, kousen en schoenen daaronder begrepen, meer dan tweehonderd Pond\nSt. Hieronder was ook begrepen eenige bedden, beddegoed en\nhuishoudelijk goed, vooral keukengereedschappen, ketels, potten en\npannen, enz., terwijl ik nog een honderd pond uitgaf voor ijzerwerk,\nspijkers en allerlei gereedschappen, krammen, schroeven, hengsels en al\nwat ik bedenken kon.\nIk nam ook een honderd wapens, geweren en pistolen, een groote menigte\nhagel van allerlei grootte, eenige duizend ponden lood en twee koperen\nstukjes geschut, en daar ik niet wist wat er te eeniger tijd gebeuren\nkon, een honderd vaatjes kruid, met sabels en houwers, en het ijzer van\neenige pieken en hellebaarden, zoo dat wij, om kort te gaan, een\nmagazijn van allerlei goederen hadden, en ik deed mijn neef twee\nhalfdek-stukjes meer medenemen dan hij noodig had, om die daar te kunnen\nlaten, en zoo het noodig was daar een fort te kunnen bouwen en tegen\nallerlei vijanden te kunnen verdedigen. Ik dacht ook in het eerst, dat\nwij dit alles en nog meer zouden noodig hebben, om ons in het bezit van\nhet eiland te handhaven, gelijk men in den loop van mijn verhaal zien\nzal.\nOp deze reis trof ik zoo veel tegenspoed niet, als ik gewoon was, en\nderhalve zal ik den lezer, die misschien naar nieuws uit mijne kolonie\nverlangt, minder ophouden; echter troffen wij bij onze uitreis eenige\nongevallen, als slecht weder en tegenwind, dat onze reis langer maakte\ndan ik eerst gedacht had, en ik, die slechts eens in mijn leven eene\nreis gedaan had, die goed afliep, namelijk mijne eerste reis naar\nGuinea, begon te denken, dat hetzelfde onheil mij toefde, en dat ik\ngeboren was om aan wal nimmer tevreden en op zee altijd ongelukkig te\nzijn.\nTegenwinden sloegen ons noordwaarts heen, en wij waren verpligt te\nGalway, in Ierland, binnen te loopen, waar wij twee en twintig dagen\nmoesten blijven. Wij troffen hier echter dit geluk, dat de\nlevensmiddelen er zeer goedkoop en overvloedig waren, zoodat wij al dien\ntijd nimmer den scheepsvoorraad behoefden aan te spreken, maar dien nog\nvermeerderden. Ik kocht hier nog twee koeijen, die kalven moesten, met\noogmerk, die bij een gelukkige overtogt, op mijn eiland aan wal te\nzetten, maar zij kwamen ons naderhand anders te pas.\nDen 5den Februarij verlieten wij Ierland, en hadden eenige dagen zwaren\nwind. Als ik het wel heb, was het den 20sten februarij, laat in den\navond, dat de stuurman, die toen de wacht had, in de kajuit kwam, en ons\nzeide, dat hij een flikkering van vuur gezien en een schot gehoord had,\nen terwijl hij het ons verhaalde, kwam een jongen met het berigt, dat de\nbootsman een tweede gehoord had. Dit deed ons allen naar het halfdek\ngaan, waar wij eerst niets hoorden, maar eenige minuten later zagen wij\neen groot licht, en bemerkten, dat het een vreesselijke brand in de\nverte was. Onmiddellijk maakten wij allen ons bestek op, en kwamen\ndaarin overeen, dat er dien kant uit, waar het vuur zigtbaar was, geen\nland zijn kon op geen vijfhonderd mijlen, want wij zagen het in het\nW.N.W. Hierop besloten wij, dat het een schip op zee moest zijn, dat in\nbrand stond, en dat het, daar wij even te voren het schieten gehoord\nhadden, niet ver af zijn kon. Wij hielden er dus regt op aan, en zagen\nspoedig, dat wij vinden zouden wat het was, daar het licht steeds\ngrooter werd, naarmate wij verder zeilden, schoon, daar het nevelachtig\nweder was, wij eene poos niets anders dan het licht konden zien. Na\nverloop van een half uur konden wij, daar wij vlak voor den wind\nzeilden, ofschoon die niet stevig was, toen het weder wat opklaarde,\nzien, dat het een schip was, dat midden in zee in brand stond. Hoezeer\nik niet wist wie er op waren, trof deze ramp mij allerhevigst. Ik\nherinnerde mij mijn vroegere lotgevallen, en in welken toestand ik door\nden Portugeeschen kapitein opgenomen was, en in hoe veel beklagelijker\ntoestand de arme schepsels daar aan boord moesten zijn, zoo zij niet met\neen ander schip in gezelschap zeilden. Ik gelastte dadelijk vijf schoten\nspoedig achter elkander te doen, om hun, zoo mogelijk, te kennen te\ngeven, dat er hulp voor hen opdaagde, en dat zij trachten moesten zich\nin de boot te redden, want schoon wij de vlam van het schip zien konden,\nkonden zij ons echter niet gewaar worden.\nEenigen tijd maakten wij een bijlegger en dreven even als het andere\nschip dreef, in afwachting dat het daglicht zou doorkomen, toen\nplotseling, tot onzen grooten schrik, schoon wij dit hadden kunnen\nverwachten, het schip in de lucht vloog, en onmiddellijk, dat wil\nzeggen weinige minuten daarna, was al het vuur uit, want het wrak zonk.\nDat was een verschrikkelijk en inderdaad bedroevend gezigt, om de arme\nmenschen, die ik begreep, dat allen met het schip moesten vergaan, of in\nden uitersten angst zijn in het midden van den oceaan in hunne booten,\ndie wij thans niet zien konden. Om hun echter den weg te wijzen, deed ik\nop alle plaatsen van het schip zooveel lantarens hangen als wij hadden,\nen wij bleven den geheelen nacht schoten doen, om hun te doen weten, dat\nwij niet ver af waren.\nTegen acht ure des morgens ontdekten wij door onze kijkers de\nscheepsbooten, en zagen, dat er twee waren, die opgepropt met volk en\nzeer diep geladen waren. Wij bespeurden, dat zij roeiden, daar de wind\ntegen was, dat zij ons schip zagen en hun uiterste best deden, dat wij\nhen zouden zien. Wij heschen dadelijk onze vlag, ten teeken dat wij hen\nzagen, zetten meer zeil bij en hielden regt op hen aan. Binnen een half\nuur hadden wij hen bereikt en namen hen allen aan boord, ten getale van\nniet minder dan vierenzestig, mannen, vrouwen en kinderen, want er waren\nveel passagiers.\nWij vernamen, dat het een Fransche koopvaarder, op de tehuisreis van\nQuebec op de rivier van Canada, was. De kapitein verhaalde ons in het\nbreede het ongeluk, dat zijn schip getroffen had, hoe de brand in de\nstuurmanskamer, door achteloosheid van den stuurman ontstaan was, maar\nnadat hij hulp geroepen had, geheel gebluscht was geworden, gelijk\niedereen gemeend had. Spoedig echter bespeurde men, dat er eenige vonken\ngevallen waren op eene plaats, waar men zoo moeijelijk bij kon komen,\ndat men die niet kon blusschen, en de brand naderhand tusschen de\ninhouten en beschotten geraakt was, vanwaar hij zich in het ruim\nverspreid en al hunne inspanningen vruchteloos gemaakt had.\nEr was niets anders op, dan in de booten te gaan, die tot hun geluk zeer\ngroot waren, bestaande uit de barkas en eene groote boot, benevens nog\neen sloepje, dat weinig anders hun baten kon, dan om er eenig zoet water\nen proviand in te laden, nadat zij zich uit den brand gered hadden. Zij\nhadden inderdaad weinig hoop op hun behoud, toen zij zoo ver van alle\nland in deze booten gingen, alleenlijk, gelijk zij te regt aanmerkten,\nwaren zij buiten gevaar van den brand, en bestond de mogelijkheid, dat\nzij op die hoogte een schip ontmoetten, dat hen opnam. Zij hadden\nzeilen, riemen en een kompas, en waren besloten naar Newfoundland koers\nte stellen, daar het eene stijve koelte uit het Z.O.t.O. woei. Zij\nhadden zooveel voorraad en water, dat als zij er niet meer van\ngebruikten, dan om voor verhongeren bewaard te blijven, zij voor twaalf\ndagen genoeg hadden, in welken tijd de kapitein zeide, dat hij gehoopt\nhad, buiten slecht weder en tegenwind, de banken van Newfoundland te\nbereiken, en misschien eenige visschen tot hun voedsel te vangen, totdat\nzij het land zouden bereiken. Doch in al deze gevallen liepen zij nog\nveel gevaar, als om door storm omvergeworpen en verbrijzeld te worden,\nvan regen en koude te verstijven en te bevriezen, door tegenwinden\nopgehouden te worden en van honger te sterven, dat zoo zij aldus gered\nwaren geworden, dit waarlijk wel een wonder had mogen heeten.\nDe kapitein verhaalde mij met tranen in de oogen, dat te midden hunner\nberaadslagingen, en toen iedereen alle hoop liet varen en vertwijfelen\nwilde, zij plotseling verrast werden door het hooren van een schot, door\nnog vier gevolgd; dit waren de vijf schoten, die ik had laten doen,\nzoodra wij de vlam zagen. Dit stak hun een riem onder het hart, en\nverwittigde hen, gelijk mijne bedoeling was, dat er een schip in de\nnabijheid was, om hen te hulp te komen. Op het hooren van deze schoten\nhadden zij hunne masten en zeilen gestreken, en daar het geluid voor den\nwind afkwam, besloten zij te blijven liggen tot het dag werd. Eenigen\ntijd daarna, niet meer hoorende schieten, hadden zij drie geweerschoten\ngedaan, die wij echter, daar het in den wind was, niet gehoord hadden.\nEene poos daarna werden zij weder verblijd door onze lichten te zien en\nons schieten te hooren, dat ik, gelijk ik zeide, den geheelen nacht door\nhad laten doen; dit deed hun aan de riemen gaan en op ons aanroeijen,\nten einde wij hen spoediger zouden kunnen zien, en eindelijk bemerkten\nzij tot hunne onuitsprekelijke vreugde, dat zij gezien werden.\nHet is mij onmogelijk de verschillende gebaren te beschrijven, de\nverrukking en opgetogenheid, waaraan deze arme geredde lieden zich\novergaven, om hunne vreugde over hunne onverwachte redding uit te\ndrukken. Droefenis en vrees zijn gemakkelijk te beschrijven; zuchten en\ntranen, snikken en eenige weinige bewegingen met hoofd en handen zijn de\neenige wijzen, waarop zij uitgedrukt worden; maar een overmaat van\nvreugde, eene heugelijke verrassing brengt duizend buitensporigheden met\nzich. Sommigen smolten weg in tranen, anderen schreeuwden en jammerden,\nalsof zij ten diepste bedroefd waren; sommigen waren volslagen\nkrankzinnig; anderen liepen stampvoetende over het schip; anderen\nhandenwringende; sommigen dansten, anderen zongen, anderen lachten,\nanderen gilden; sommigen waren van de spraak beroofd en konden geen\nwoord uitbrengen; sommigen waren ziek en misselijk; verscheidene vielen\nin zwijm; en eenige weinige sloegen een kruis en dankten God.\nIk wil hun geen onregt doen; naderhand waren misschien zeer velen\ndankbaar; maar de eerste aandoening was hun te sterk, en zij konden die\nniet bedwingen; zij waren in zekere mate verbijsterd van zinnen, en\nslechts weinigen betoonden zich in hunne vreugde bedaard en gematigd.\nMisschien ligt hiervan de reden eensdeels in hunnen eigendommelijken\nlandaard, ik bedoel den Franschen, wier geest altijd vlugger,\nhartstogtelijker en meer geneigd is, om tot uitersten over te slaan, dan\ndie van andere volken. Ik ben geen wijsgeer genoeg, om de oorzaak te\nbepalen, maar nooit had ik vroeger in mijn leven zoo iets bijgewoond. De\nverrukking, waaraan zich Vrijdag, mijn trouwe wilde, overgaf, toen hij\nzijn vader in de boot aantrof, kwam er het naaste bij; en de verbazing\nvan den kapitein en zijne brave medgezellen, die ik redde van de\nschurken, die hen op het eiland aan wal gezet hadden, zweemde er\neenigzins naar; maar noch dat van Vrijdag, noch iets wat ik ooit in mijn\nleven zag, haalde er eenigzins bij.\nIk moet nog opmerken, dat deze uitsporigheden zich niet alleen bij\nverschillende personen op zich zelve vertoonden; neen, dezelfde persoon\nbedreef ze achtervolgens allen, in een kort tijdsverloop. Een man, die\nhet eene oogenblik sprakeloos en geheel bedwelmd en verbijsterd was,\ndanste en schreeuwde het volgende oogenblik als een bezetene; een\noogenblik daarna rukte hij zich de haren uit, scheurde zich de kleederen\nvan het lijf, en vertrapte die als een krankzinnige; weinige minuten\ndaarna smolt hij weg in tranen, dan werd hij flaauw en viel in zwijm, en\nzou, als men hem niet oogenblikkelijk te hulp gekomen was, binnen\nweinige minuten dood geweest zijn; en zoo ging het niet met een of twee,\nof tien, of twintig, maar het meerendeel van hen; en als ik wel heb, was\nonze doktor verpligt er meer dan dertig te aderlaten.\nEr bevonden zich twee priesters onder hen, een oud en een jong man, en\nwat zonderling was, de oude man was het hevigst aangedaan. Zoodra hij\naan boord van ons schip was, en zich gered zag, viel hij als dood neder,\nterwijl er geen teeken van leven in hem te bespeuren was. Onze doctor\ndiende hem dadelijk de noodige middelen toe, en was de eenigste man aan\nboord, die niet geloofde, dat hij dood was, en eindelijk deed hij hem\neene aderlating, na zijn arm eerst gewreven te hebben, om dien te\nverwarmen. Eerst kwam het bloed bij droppels, en vloeide toen wat\nruimer; drie minuten later sloeg de man de oogen op, en een kwartier\ndaarna scheen hij volkomen hersteld. Nadat zijn arm verbonden was, liep\nhij heen en we\u00ear, zeide, dat hij geheel hersteld was, en nam een drankje\nin, dat de doctor hem gaf. Een kwartier uurs later kwam men den doctor\nroepen, die eene in flaauwte liggende Fransche vrouw aderliet, en zeide,\ndat de priester ijlhoofdig was geworden, gelijk ook werkelijk het geval\nwas. De doctor wilde hem in dien toestand niet aderlaten, maar gaf hem\neen verdoovend en slaapwekkend middel in, dat na eenigen tijd werkte, en\nden volgenden morgen ontwaakte de oude man volkomen wel en bij zijn\nvolle verstand.\nDe jonge priester was zijne hartstogten meer meester, en werkelijk een\nvoorbeeld van een gelaten en bezadigd karakter. Toen hij eerst aan\nboord bij ons kwam, wierp hij zich plat op den grond neder, om God voor\nzijne bevrijding te danken, waarin ik hem ongelukkig en ontijdig\nstoorde, daar ik dacht, dat hij in flaauwte was gevallen; doch hij sprak\nbedaard, dankte mij, zeide mij, dat hij God gedankt had voor zijne\nbevrijding, en smeekte mij hem nog eenige oogenblikken ongestoord te\nlaten, en dat hij na zijnen Schepper ook mij wilde dank zeggen.\nHet speet mij bitter, dat ik hem gestoord had, en ik liet hem niet\nalleen ongemoeid, maar zorgde ook, dat anderen dit deden. Hij bleef\nongeveer drie minuten in dezelfde houding, kwam toen naar mij toe,\ngelijk hij gezegd had, en dankte mij met de opregtste hartelijkheid, en\nmet tranen in de oogen, dat ik, naast God, hem en zoo vele andere\nongelukkigen, het leven had gered. Ik zeide hem, dat ik hem niet\nbehoefde aan te sporen, God veeleer dan mij te danken, daar ik gezien\nhad, dat hij dit reeds had gedaan. Maar ik voegde er bij, dat dit\nslechts een bevel was, dat aan alle menschen door de rede en\nmenschlievendheid voorgeschreven werd, en dat wij even veel reden als\nzij hadden om God te danken, dat deze ons de genade had bewezen, ons tot\nwerktuigen zijner barmhartigheid te maken.\nDaarna keerde de jonge priester zich tot zijne landgenooten, trachtte\nhen tot bedaren te brengen, en vermaande en smeekte hen, zich aan geene\nbuitensporigheden over te geven. Bij eenigen gelukte dit, doch de\nmeesten hadden geenerlei magt over zichzelven. Ik heb dit vermeld, om\ndat het nuttig kan zijn voor degenen, in wier handen dit verhaal valt,\ndat zij zich voor alle uitsporige vervoering van aandoeningen wachten;\nwant zoo overmaat van vreugde den mensch reeds zoo zeer buiten het\nbestier zijner rede vervoert, waartoe zal dan de overmaat van nijd, haat\nof toorn ons niet brengen? Waarlijk, ik zag hier hoe wij steeds over\nalle driften de wacht moeten houden, zoo wel bij vreugde en genoegen als\nbij droefheid en leed.\nDeze uitsporigheden onzer nieuwe gasten veroorzaakten den eersten dag\neene tamelijke verwarring, maar toen zij zich naar bed hadden begeven,\nzoo goed wij hun dit in ons schip konden geven, en gerust geslapen\nhadden, gelijk de meesten hunner van afmatting deden, waren zij den\nvolgenden dag geheel andere menschen.\nZij lieten niet na, ons alle beleefdheid en dankbaarheid voor de hun\nbewezene diensten te betuigen; want men weet, dat de Franschen over het\nalgemeen beleefd genoeg zijn. De kapitein en een der priesters kwamen\nden volgenden dag bij mij, en verzochten mij en mijnen neef, onzen\nkapitein, te spreken, en met ons te beraadslagen, hoedanig wij met hen\nzouden handelen. Eerstelijk zeiden zij, dat daar wij hun het leven gered\nhadden, al wat zij in de wereld bezaten te weinig was, om ons deze\ndienst te vergelden. De kapitein zeide, dat hij eenig geld en eenige\nzaken van waarde nog in der haast uit de vlammen had weten te redden, en\ndat, zoo wij het wilden aannemen, zij volmagt hadden, ons het aan te\nbieden; zij verzochten alleen hier of daar aan wal gezet te worden,\nvanwaar zij zoo mogelijk als passagiers naar Frankrijk zouden gaan. Mijn\nneef wilde eerst hun geld aannemen en dan beraadslagen wat met hen aan\nte vangen; maar ik bragt hem daaraf; want ik wist wat het te zeggen is,\nin een vreemd land aan wal gezet te worden, en als de Portugesche\nkapitein, die mij op zee opnam, mij zoo behandeld en voor mijne\nbevrijding mij alles afgenomen had, had ik van honger moeten sterven, of\nin Brazili\u00eb even goed slaaf zijn als in Barbarije, behalve dat ik dan\naan geen Turk zou behooren; maar misschien is een Portugees al geen\nbeter meester dan een Moor, zoo niet in sommige gevallen veel erger.\nIk zeide derhalve den Franschen kapitein, dat wij hen, wel is waar, in\nzijnen nood hadden opgenomen; maar dat dit alleen onze pligt jegens\nonzen evenmensen was, en gelijk wij in denzelfden of soortgelijken\ntoestand zouden verlangen gered te worden; dat wij niets voor hen gedaan\nhadden, dan hetgeen wij vertrouwden, dat zij voor ons zouden hebben\ngedaan, als wij in hun geval en zij in het onze waren geweest; dat wij\nhen opgenomen hadden om hen te redden, maar niet om hen te plunderen; en\ndat het onmenschelijk zou zijn, hun het weinige, dat zij uit den brand\ngered hadden, te ontnemen en hen dan aan wal te zetten en aan hun lot\nover te laten; dat zou zijn hen eerst van den dood te redden, om hen\nnaderhand daaraan ten prooi te geven; hen uit het water te redden om\nhen aan den honger prijs te geven; en derhalve verlangde ik, dat hun\nniets het minste zou ontnomen worden. Hen aan wal te zetten, was\ninderdaad voor ons eene moeijelijke zaak, gelijk ik hun mededeelde, want\nons schip was naar Oost-Indi\u00eb bestemd, en schoon wij zeer ver westwaarts\nheen waren geslagen, hetgeen welligt de Hemel tot hun behoud aldus\nbeschikt had, was het ons toch ondoenlijk, om hunnentwil onze reis te\nveranderen, en mijn neef, de kapitein, kon het niet aan de reeders\nverantwoorden, jegens welke hij verpligt was, om zijne reis naar\nBrazili\u00eb te vervolgen. Al wat ik voor hen doen kon was, ons zooveel\nmogelijk in het vaarwater te houden van naar huis gaande\nWest-Indievaarders, en zoo mogelijk hun een overtogt naar Engeland of\nFrankrijk te verschaffen.\nHet eerste deel van mijn voorstel was zoo edelmoedig en welgemeend, dat\nzij er niet dan zeer dankbaar voor konden zijn, doch zij waren zeer\nongerust, vooral de passagiers, vooral bij het vooruitzigt van misschien\nmede naar Oost-Indi\u00eb te moeten gaan. Zij smeekten mij, dat, aangezien\nik, voordat ik hen aantrof, zoo ver westelijk geslagen was, ik althans\ntot de banken van Newfoundland dienzelfden koers zou houden, waar ik\nwaarschijnlijk wel een scheepje zou aantreffen, dat zij konden huren, om\nhen naar Canada terug te brengen.\nIk beschouwde dit als een zeer billijk verzoek, en wilde dit hun gaarne\ntoestemmen, want ik begreep dat al dit volk naar Oost-Indi\u00eb mede te\nnemen, voor henzelven niet alleen eene onondragelijke hardigheid zijn\nzou, maar ook onze reis bemoeijelijken, door het verteren van onze\nproviand; zoodat ik het voor geene inbreuk op den vrachtbrief aanzag,\ndat een geheel onvoorzien toeval ons hiertoe dwong, en waarin wij niet\nte laken waren; want zoowel Goddelijke als menschelijke wetten eischten\nvan ons, dat wij twee booten vol volk in zulk eenen ongelukkigen\ntoestand niet weigerden op te nemen, en zoowel hun als onze toestand\nvereischte, dat wij hen te hunner bevrijding hier of daar aan wal\nzetten. Dus beloofde ik hen naar Newfoundland te brengen, als wind en\nweder het toelieten, en zoo niet, dat ik hen dan naar Martinique zou\nbrengen.\nDe oostenwind bleef lang aanhouden, doch met goed weder, en daar er\nreeds lang oostelijke winden geheerscht hadden, misten wij verscheidene\ngelegenheden hen naar Frankrijk te zenden, want wij praaiden\nverscheidene naar Europa bestemde schepen, waaronder twee Fransche, die\nvan St. Kitts kwamen, maar zij hadden zoo lang tegen den wind moeten\nopwerken, dat zij geene passagiers durfden innemen, uit vrees van\nlevensmiddelen te kort te komen voor hen en hunne passagiers. Het was\nomstreeks eene week daarna, dat wij de banken van Newfoundland\nbereikten, waar wij al onze Franschen aan boord van een bark lieten\novergaan, die zij op zee huurden, om hen naar wal en vandaar naar\nFrankrijk te brengen, als zij aan wal genoeg levensmiddelen konden\nbekomen. Ik moet echter vermelden, dat de jonge Fransche priester, van\nwien ik gesproken heb, hoorende dat wij naar Oost-Indi\u00eb gingen, ons\nverzocht aan boord te blijven, om op de kust van Coromandel aan wal\ngezet te worden. Ik gaf hiertoe gereedelijk mijne toestemming, want ik\nhield veel van den man, en niet zonder reden, gelijk in het vervolg\nblijken zal. Ook vier matrozen namen bij ons dienst, waarvan wij veel\nnut hadden.\nVandaar zetten wij koers naar de West-Indi\u00ebn en hielden omstreeks\ntwintig dagen Z.Z.O. aan, somtijds met weinig of geen wind; toen wij\nnieuwe voorwerpen van menschlievendheid aantroffen, bijkans even\njammerlijk als de vorige.\nHet was op 27\u00b0 5' N.B., den 18 Maart 1694, dat wij een zeil zagen, dat\nin onzen koers Z.Z.O. lag. Spoedig zagen wij, dat het een groot schip\nwas, dat op ons aanhield, maar wisten eerst niet wat er van te denken.\nWat naderkomende zagen wij, dat het zijne groote steng, fokkemast en\nboegspriet verloren had, en hoorden het een noodschot doen. Het weder\nwas zeer goed, het woei eene bramzeilskoelte uit het N.N.W., en spoedig\nkonden wij het praaijen.\nWij vernamen, dat het een schip van Bristol was, op de tehuisreis, doch\ndat het weinige dagen voordat het zeilree was, door eenen vreesselijken\nstorm van de reede van Barbados was weggeslagen, terwijl de kapitein en\nopperstuurman beide aan wal gegaan waren, zoodat, behalve het gevaar van\nden storm, zij slecht in staat waren het schip naar huis te brengen.\nZij waren reeds negen weken op zee, en hadden na den orkaan nog een\nvreesselijken storm moeten doorstaan, die hen westwaarts, geheel buiten\nhun bestek, had geslagen, en waarbij zij hunne masten verloren hadden.\nZij verhaalden ons, dat zij verwachtten de Bahamas te zien, maar toen\nweder door een zwaren N.N.W. wind, dezelfde die thans woei, naar het\nZ.O. waren geslagen, en daar zij niet anders dan de onderzeilen en eene\nsoort van razeil op een noodfokkemast, dien zij opgerigt hadden, konden\nbijzetten, konden zij niet digt bij den wind liggen, maar trachtten de\nKanarische eilanden te bereiken.\nHet ergste echter was, dat zij bijkans van honger gestorven waren, uit\ngebrek aan leeftogt, behalve de vermoeijenissen, die zij uitstonden; hun\nbrood en vleesch was geheel op, en geen lood er meer van overig. Zij\nhadden sedert elf dagen niets genuttigd dan zoet water en een half\nvaatje meel; ook hadden zij suiker genoeg; in den beginne hadden zij\neenige confituren gehad, doch deze waren ook op, en zij hadden nog zeven\nvaatjes rum.\nAan boord waren een jongeling en zijne moeder met een dienstmeisje als\npassagiers; deze waren, denkende dat het schip reeds gereed was onder\nzeil te gaan, ongelukkig den avond voor den orkaan aan boord gegaan, en\ndaar zij geen leeftogt van zichzelven meer hadden, waren zij in nog\njammerlijker toestand dan de overigen; want de matrozen, die zelf\nzooveel gebrek leden, hadden geen medelijden met de arme passagiers, en\ndeze bevonden zich in eenen toestand, wiens ellende onbeschrijfelijk is.\nIk zou dit welligt niet vernomen hebben, indien de nieuwsgierigheid mij\nniet, toen de wind bedaard was, aan boord aldaar had doen gaan. De\ntweede stuurman, die thans het bevel op het schip had, was bij ons aan\nboord geweest, en vertelde mij, dat zij in de kajuit drie passagiers\nhadden, die in eenen allerjammerlijksten toestand waren. \"Ik geloof\nzelfs, dat zij dood zijn,\" zeide hij, \"want ik heb sedert twee dagen\nniets van hen gehoord, en vreesde naar hen te vernemen, want,\" vervolgde\nhij, \"ik had niets waarmede ik hen kon laven.\"--Wij zochten onmiddellijk\nzooveel leeftogt voor hen bijeen, als wij missen konden, en ik had met\nmijnen neef reeds afgesproken, dat ik hen provianderen zou, al zouden\nwij ook naar Virgini\u00eb of eenig deel van de Amerikaansche kust gaan, om\nvoor onszelven levensmiddelen in te nemen; doch dit was niet\nnoodzakelijk.\nZij bevonden zich echter thans in een nieuw gevaar, namelijk dat van te\nveel te eten, zelfs van het weinige, dat wij hun gaven. De stuurman, die\nthans bevelhebber was, bragt zes man in de boot mede, maar deze arme\nlieden zagen er uit als schimmen, en waren zoo zwak, dat zij naauwelijks\nop de riemen konden zitten. De stuurman zelf was zeer ziek en half\nverhongerd, want hij verklaarde, dat hij niets boven het volk vooruit\nhad gehad, en van alles gelijk aandeel met hen genomen. Ik waarschuwde\nhem, weinig te eten, maar zette hem dadelijk vleesch voor; maar bij den\nderden mond vol werd hij ongesteld en kon niet meer slikken. Onze doktor\nmaakte daarop eene soep voor hem gereed, dat voedsel en geneesmiddel,\nvolgens zijn zeggen, te gelijk was, en na die genuttigd te hebben, werd\nhij beter. Middelerwijl vergat ik de matrozen niet. Ik gelastte hun eten\nvoor te zetten, dat de arme lieden meer verslonden dan aten; zij waren\nzoo hongerig, dat zij half waanzinnig waren en zich niet bedwingen\nkonden; en twee hunner aten zoo gulzig, dat zij den volgenden morgen in\nlevensgevaar waren.\nDe ellende van deze lieden trof mij zeer, en deed mij herdenken aan het\nverschrikkelijk vooruitzigt, toen ik het eerst op het eiland kwam, waar\nik geen mondvol eten had, en geenerlei verwachting het te zullen\nbekomen; zonder te spreken van de vrees, om door verscheurende dieren\nverslonden te worden. Maar terwijl de stuurman mij aldus den\njammerlijken toestand van het scheepsvolk verhaalde, kon ik niet uit\nmijne gedachten zetten wat hij mij van de drie arme schepsels in de\ngroote kajuit verhaald had, van de moeder, den zoon en het dienstmeisje\nnamelijk, waarvan hij sedert twee of drie dagen niets gehoord had, en\ndie hij, naar zijne woorden te oordeelen, scheen te bekennen, geheel\nverwaarloosd te hebben, omdat hun eigen nood zoo groot was. Ik begreep\nhieruit, dat zij hun in het geheel geen eten gegeven hadden, en dat zij\nderhalve gestorven zouden zijn, en misschien dood op den grond van de\nkajuit liggen.\nTerwijl ik dus den stuurman met zijn volk aan boord hield, om hen te\nverkwikken, vergat ik het uitgehongerd volk niet, dat aan boord gebleven\nwas, maar liet mijn eigen boot uitzetten, en zond den stuurman en twaalf\nman daarheen, om hun een zak beschuit en vier of vijf stukken\nossenvleesch, om te koken, te brengen. Onze doktor waarschuwde hen, het\nvleesch te laten koken terwijl zij er bij waren, en in de kombuis de\nwacht te houden, ten einde het niet raauw gegeten of voor het gaar was\ndoor de matrozen uit den ketel gehaald werd, en ieder man slechts een\nklein stukje te gelijk te geven. Deze voorzorgen waren het behoud van\nhet volk, want anders zouden zij zich dood gegeten hebben aan hetgeen\nhun tot behoud van hun leven gegeven werd.\nTevens gelastte ik den stuurman in de groote kajuit te gaan en te zien\nin welken toestand de arme personen waren; en zoo zij nog leefden, hen\nte vertroosten en zoodanige verkwikkingen te geven als zij behoefden; en\nde doktor gaf hem een pot met eenige soep, gelijk hij voor den stuurman\nhad gereed gemaakt, en die hij niet twijfelde, dat hen van lieverlede op\nde been zou brengen.\nIk was hiermede nog niet tevreden, maar daar ik, gelijk ik zeide,\nverlangde, het tafereel van ellende, dat ik wist, dat dit schip zou\nopleveren, met eigene oogen te zien, nam ik den stuurman of kapitein,\ngelijk wij hem thans noemden, mede en begaf mij kort daarop zelf aan\nboord. Ik vond de matrozen bijkans in oproer, om het vleesch uit den\nketel te halen eer het gaar was. Mijn stuurman handhaafde de orde, en\ndeed goede wacht aan de kombuis houden. Het volk, dat daar de wacht\nhield, was genoodzaakt, na op alle mogelijke wijzen het volk vermaand te\nhebben geduldig te zijn, het met geweld er af te houden. Hij liet echter\neenige beschuit in het vleeschnat doopen, en gaf iedereen daarvan een\nstuk, om hunne maag tevreden te stellen, en zeide, dat hij tot hun eigen\nbestwil genoodzaakt was, hun slechts weinig te gelijk te geven. Doch\nniets baatte; en als niet ik met hun eigen bevelhebber gekomen was, en\nhun goede woorden gegeven en ook gedreigd had, hun niets meer te geven,\nzouden zij, geloof ik, met geweld in de kombuis gedrongen zijn, en het\nvleesch er uitgehaald hebben, want woorden zijn een flaauw voedsel voor\neene hongerige maag. Echter bragten wij hen tot rede, en gaven hun de\neerste maal slechts weinig, en langzamerhand wat meer, tot wij hen\neindelijk verzadigden, en niemand nadeel hierbij leed.\nMaar de ellende van de arme passagiers in de kajuit was van een anderen\naard, en ging die van de anderen ver te boven. Want daar het scheepsvolk\nzelf zoo weinig had, hadden zij hen in het begin zeer schraal bedeeld,\nen op het laatst geheel verwaarloosd, zoo dat zij inderdaad zes of zeven\ndagen lang in het geheel geen voedsel hadden gehad, en verscheidene\ndagen te voren zeer weinig. De arme moeder, die, volgens den stuurman,\neene zeer welopgevoede vrouw was, had uit moederliefde, alles wat zij\nkrijgen kon, zoo voor haren zoon bespaard, dat zij er eindelijk onder\nbezweken was. Toen de stuurman van ons schip in de kajuit trad, zat zij\nop den grond met den rug tegen het beschot, tusschen twee vastgesjorde\nstoelen, en haar hoofd op de borst gezonken, schoon zij nog niet geheel\ndood was. Mijn stuurman zeide al wat hij kon, om haar op te beuren en\naan te moedigen, en stak haar met een lepel eenige bouillon in den mond.\nZij bewoog hare lippen en hief eene hand op, maar kon niet spreken; zij\nverstond echter wat hij zeide, en gaf door teekens te kennen, dat het\nvoor haar te laat was, maar wees op haar kind, als wilde zij zeggen, dat\nhij daarvoor maar moest zorgen.\nDe stuurman, die hevig getroffen was, trachtte echter haar iets binnen\nte krijgen, en zeide, dat hij haar een paar lepels vol had doen\ndoorzwelgen, schoon ik twijfel of hij hiervan zeker was. Het was echter\nte laat; zij stierf nog denzelfden nacht.\nDe knaap, die ten koste van zijn moeders leven bewaard was gebleven, was\nnog niet zoo ver heen, maar toch lag hij in eene kooi uitgestrekt, en\ngaf naauwelijks eenig teeken van leven. Hij had een stuk van een ouden\nhandschoen in zijn mond, waarvan hij het overige opgegeten had. Daar hij\nechter jong en sterker was dan zijne moeder, gaf de stuurman hem\nlangzamerhand wat in, en hij begon zigtbaar te herleven, schoon hij,\ntoen hij eene poos daarna twee of drie lepels te gelijk innam, zeer\nongesteld werd en het niet kon binnenhouden.\nDe dienstmaagd vereischte thans ook onze zorg. Zij lag digt bij hare\nmeesteres op den grond, even als iemand, die door eene beroerte\ngetroffen was, en lag met den dood te worstelen. Hare leden waren\nverwrongen; een harer handen was krampachtig om den poot van een stoel\ngeslagen, zoo stijf, dat wij dien niet gemakkelijk konden losmaken, hare\nandere hand lag boven haar hoofd, en hare beenen stijf tegen het beschot\nder kajuit; kortom zij lag als een zieltogende; en toch was er nog een\nvonkje leven in. Niet alleen was de arme meid half dood van honger en\nverschrikt door het naderen van den dood, maar gelijk het volk ons\nnaderhand verhaalde, haar hart was gebroken, toen zij twee of drie dagen\nte voren het zieltogen harer meesteres aanschouwd had, die zij teeder\nbeminde. Wij wisten niet wat met de arme meid te beginnen, want toen\nonze doktor, die een man van veel kennis en groote ervaring was, haar\nmet veel moeite in het leven had teruggebragt, moest hij haar onder\nzijne behandeling houden, want het scheen langen tijd, dat haar verstand\ngekrenkt was.\nDe lezers van dit mijn geschrift moeten wel in het oog houden, dat men\nop zee bij elkander geene bezoeken aflegt, zoo als men een reisje te\nland doet, waar men soms veertien dagen achtereen op dezelfde plaats\nblijft. Het was thans wel onze zaak dit scheepsvolk in hunnen nood bij\nte staan, maar niet bij hen te blijven liggen; en schoon zij wel eenige\ndagen gelijken koers met ons wilden houden, konden wij echter geen zeil\nvoeren, om gelijk met een schip te blijven, dat zijne masten verloren\nhad. Daar echter hun kapitein ons verzocht hem te helpen een noodsteng\nop den grooten mast en een soort van steng op zijn fokkemast op te\nzetten, maakten wij als het ware drie of vier dagen te dien einde een\nbijlegger bij hem. Na hem daarop vijf vaten ossenvleesch, een vat spek,\ntwee groote vaten beschuit, en zooveel erwten, meel en wat wij missen\nkonden, gegeven te hebben, namen wij daarvoor van hen over drie vaten\nsuiker, eenigen rum en eenige stukken van achten, en verlieten hen\ndaarop, na op hun eigen ernstig verzoek den jongeling en de dienstmaagd\nmet al hun goed bij ons aan boord te hebben genomen.\nDe jongeling was ongeveer zeventien jaren oud, een knappe, welopgevoede,\nverstandige en zedige knaap; zeer bedroefd over het verlies zijner\nmoeder; en naar het bleek had hij slechts weinige maanden geleden zijn\nvader te Barbados verloren. Hij verzocht den doktor, om zijne voorspraak\nbij mij, om hem aan boord te nemen; want hij zeide, dat de onbarmhartige\nkerels zijne moeder vermoord hadden. Dit was ook in zekeren zin de\nwaarheid, want zij hadden wel een klein weinig kunnen afzonderen voor de\narme hulpelooze vrouw, waardoor zij het leven had kunnen behouden, al\nware het maar genoeg, dat zij niet van honger gestorven was. Maar de\nhonger is een scherp zwaard, en kent vrienden noch bloedverwanten, noch\nregten; en heeft derhalve geene gewetens wroeging en is voor medelijden\nonvatbaar.\nDe doktor zeide hem welk eene verre reis wij gingen doen, en hoe die\nhem van al zijne bloedverwanten verwijderen zou, en hem misschien even\nongelukkig doen worden, als toen wij hem vonden, namelijk om in de\nwereld te verhongeren. Hij zeide, dat het hem onverschillig was, waar\nhij heen ging, zoo hij slechts van dat verschrikkelijk scheepsvolk\nontslagen was; dat de kapitein (waarmede hij mij bedoelde, want hij had\nmijn neef niet gezien) hem het leven gered had, en hij was verzekerd,\ndat hij hem verder geen kwaad zou toevoegen. Wat de dienstmaagd betrof,\nook deze, zeide hij, zou zeer dankbaar zijn, al bragten wij haar ook\nwaar wij wilden. De doktor stelde mij de zaak zoo treffend voor, dat ik\ner in toestemde, en wij namen beide aan boord met al hun goederen;\nbehalve elf vaten suiker, die niet overgeladen konden worden; en daar de\njongeling er een cognossement van had, liet ik den kapitein eene\nverbindtenis teekenen, om zoodra hij te Bristol aankwam, naar zekeren\nheer Rogers, een koopman daar, te gaan, die volgens des jongelings\nzeggen, een bloedverwant van hem was, en dien een brief van mij, met al\nde goederen der overledene weduwe af te geven, hetgeen ik niet geloof,\ndat ooit gebeurd is; want ik heb nooit vernomen, dat het schip te\nBristol aangekomen is. Waarschijnlijk is het vergaan, want het was zoo\nontredderd en zoo ver van alle land, dat ik denk, dat het bij den\neersten storm, waarvan het beloopen werd, moest zinken, want het was lek\nen had schade in het hol, toen wij het aantroffen.\nWij waren nu op 19\u00b0 32' en hadden tot hiertoe, wat het weder betreft,\neene niet ongunstige reis, schoon in het eerst veel tegenwinden gehad.\nIk zal niemand lastig vallen met de geringe voorvallen van weer en wind\nen stroomingen, maar mijne geschiedenis bekortende, alleen vermelden,\ndat ik den 10den April 1695 op mijn oud verblijf, het eiland aankwam.\nGeene geringe moeite kostte het mij het terug te vinden, want daar ik\nvroeger er op kwam en vertrok van de zuid- en oostzijde, als van\nBrazili\u00eb komende, zoo kwam ik nu tusschen het vasteland en het eiland,\nen daar ik geene kaart van de kust of eenige landmerken had, kende ik\nhet niet, toen ik het zag, en wist niet of ik het zag of niet.\nWij kruisten een geruimen tijd rond, en deden verscheidene eilanden aan\nin den mond van de Oronoco, doch vruchteloos; alleen bespeurde ik door\nonze kustvaart, dat ik vroeger in eene groote dwaling vervallen was;\nnamelijk, dat het vasteland, hetwelk ik van het eiland waarop ik woonde\nmeende te zien, eigenlijk geen vast land, maar een lang eiland, of\nliever eene eilandenreeks was, die van de eene zijde van den wijden mond\ndier rivier tot aan de andere liep, en dat de wilden, die op mijn eiland\nkwamen, eigenlijk niet diegenen waren, die wij Cara\u00efben noemen, maar\neilandbewoners van hetzelfde ras, die wat digter dan de overige aan\nonzen kant woonden.\nIk bezocht verscheidene dier eilanden vruchteloos; sommigen vond ik dat\nonbewoond waren, anderen niet. Op een derzelve trof ik eenige\nSpanjaarden aan, die ik meende dat daar hun verblijf hielden; maar toen\nik hen sprak vernam ik, dat zij daar digtbij in eene kreek eene sloep\nhadden liggen, en dat zij hier kwamen, om zout te maken, en naar\nparelmosselen te visschen; maar zij behoorden tot het eiland Trinidad,\ndat op 10\u00b0 of 11\u00b0 verder noordelijk lag.\nAldus het eene eiland na het andere aandoende, somtijds met ons schip,\nen somtijds met de sloep van den Franschman, dat wij een zeer geschikt\nvaartuig vonden, en met hun goedvinden achtergehouden hadden, kwam ik\neindelijk aan de zuidzijde van mijn eiland, en herkende thans duidelijk\nwaar ik was. Ik bragt dus het schip veilig ten anker, dwars voor de\nkleine kreek, waar mijne oude woning was.\nZoodra ik de plaats zag, riep ik Vrijdag, en vroeg hem, of hij wist waar\nhij was. Hij zag in het rond, en, in de handen klappende, riep hij uit:\n\"O ja, daar! O ja, daar!\" terwijl hij naar onze oude woning wees, en\ndanste en rondsprong, of hij gek geworden was, en ik had veel moeite,\nhem te beletten dat hij in zee sprong, om naar den wal te zwemmen.\n\"Wel Vrijdag,\" zeide ik, \"denkt gij, dat wij hier iemand zullen vinden\nof niet? Wat dunkt u, zullen wij uwen vader hier vinden?\" Hij stond eene\npoos zonder te spreken, maar toen ik van zijn vader sprak, zette hij een\ntreurig gelaat, en ik zag, dat hem de tranen over het gelaat liepen.\n\"Wat deert u, Vrijdag,\" zeide ik, \"zijt gij bedroefd, omdat gij\ndenkelijk uw vader zult zien?\"--\"Neen, neen,\" zeide hij, het hoofd\nschuddende; \"hem niet we\u00ear zien, zal hem niet we\u00ear zien.\"--\"Waarom?\"\nzeide ik, \"hoe weet gij dat, Vrijdag?\"--\"O neen,\" zeide Vrijdag, \"hij\nlang geleden gestorven; hij lang dood, hij zoo oud man is.\"--\"Kom, het\nis nog zoo zeker niet, Vrijdag,\" zeide ik. \"Maar zullen wij dan niemand\nanders zien?\" Vrijdag had beter oogen dan ik, en hij wees naar den\nheuvel, achter mijn verblijf; en, schoon wij er nog een half uur af\nlagen, riep hij uit: \"Ik zie, ik zie, ik zie veel menschen, en daar en\ndaar!\" Ik zag derwaarts, maar kon niets onderscheiden, zelfs niet met\neen kijker, schoon dit geloof ik, kwam door dien ik de plek niet er in\nopvangen kon, want den volgenden dag vernam ik, dat hij gelijk had\ngehad, en er vijf of zes lieden naar het schip hadden staan te zien, die\nniet wisten waar zij ons voor moesten houden.\nZoodra Vrijdag mij zeide, dat hij menschen zag, deed ik de Engelsche\nvlag hijschen en drie schoten doen, om te kennen te geven, dat wij\nvrienden waren, en ongeveer een half kwartier later zagen wij rook van\nde zijde van de kreek oprijzen. Ik gelastte dadelijk de boot uit te\nzetten, nam Vrijdag mede, en eene witte of vredevlag opzettende, ging\nik naar den wal, met den jongen priester, waarvan ik gesproken heb, wien\nik mijne geheele levensgeschiedenis verhaald had, benevens hoe ik daar\ngewoond en wie ik daar had gelaten, en die evenzeer als ik daarheen\nverlangde. Bovendien hadden wij ongeveer zestien goed gewapende mannen\nbij ons, als er soms eenige nieuwe gasten gekomen waren, die wij niet\nkenden; doch wij hadden onze wapens niet noodig.\nDaar wij, toen de vloed bijkans op zijn hoogst was, aan wal gingen,\nroeiden wij de kreek in, en de eerste man, waar mijn oog op viel, was de\nSpanjaard, dien ik het leven gered had, en wiens gelaat ik dadelijk\nherkende; zijne kleeding zal ik later beschrijven. Ik gelastte, dat\nbuiten mij niemand de boot zou verlaten, maar Vrijdag was niet te\nhouden, want de brave jongen had zijn vader zeer in de verte gezien,\nveel verder dan mijn oog reikte, en zoo men hem niet aan wal had laten\ngaan, zou hij in zee gesprongen zijn. Naauwelijks was hij aan land, of\nhij vloog als een pijl uit den boog naar zijn vader. De hardvochtigste\nmensch zou tranen vergoten hebben bij het zien van de eerste uitbarsting\nzijner vreugde, toen hij bij zijn vader gekomen was. Hij omhelsde en\nkuste hem, streelde hem over het gelaat, nam hem in zijne armen op en\nzette hem op een boomstam en ging bij hem liggen; dan stond hij op en\nstaarde hem aan, gelijk men eene vreemde schilderij zou doen, wel een\nkwartier lang; dan viel hij weder neder, streelde zijne beenen en kuste\nze, en sprong dan weder op en bleef hem aanstaren; men zou gezegd\nhebben, dat hij betooverd was. Maar iedereen had weder moeten lagchen\nals men zag hoe hij zijne vreugde weder op eene andere wijze lucht gaf.\nIn den morgen wandelde hij verscheidene uren met zijn vader langs het\nstrand heen en weder, altijd hem bij de hand houdende alsof hij een kind\nwas, en nu en dan kwam hij iets uit de boot voor hem halen, als een\nklomp suiker, een borrel, een beschuit of eenige andere versnapering.\nDes namiddags maakte hij weder andere grappen, want toen zette hij den\nouden man op den grond en danste om hem heen met allerlei potsige\ngebaren, en gedurende al dien tijd sprak hij tot hem, en verhaalde hem\neene of andere gebeurtenis van zijne reizen, en wat hem overgekomen was,\nom hem te vermaken. Kortom, zoo er bij de Christenen in ons werelddeel\nzoo veel kinderlijke liefde bestond, zou men bijkans geneigd zijn te\nzeggen, dat het vijfde gebod niet noodig was.\nDoch ik moet tot mijne landing terugkeeren. Ik zou nimmer eindigen als\nik al de pligtplegingen en beleefdheden der Spanjaarden wilde vermelden.\nDe eerste Spanjaard, dien ik, gelijk ik zeide, zeer goed herkende, was\ndegeen wien ik het leven gered had, hij kwam met nog een naar de boot\ntoe, ook met eene witte vlag; en niet alleen herkende hij mij in het\neerst niet, maar hij had ook niet het minste denkbeeld of vermoeden, dat\nik het zijn zou, tot ik hem toesprak. \"Sennor,\" zeide ik in het\nPortugeesch, \"kent gij mij niet?\" Hij antwoordde niet, maar gaf zijn\ngeweer over aan den man, die bij hem was, en iets in het Spaansch\nzeggende, dat ik niet wel verstond, kwam hij naar mij toe en omarmde\nmij, zeggende, dat het onverschoonlijk was, dat hij het gelaat niet\nherkende, dat hem eens, als dat eens engels uit den Hemel, was\nverschenen om zijn leven te redden. Hij zeide mij eene menigte\nbeleefdheden, gelijk ieder welopgevoede Spanjaard altijd doen zal, en\nriep daarop dengeen, die bij hem was, en verzocht hem naar zijne makkers\nte gaan en die te roepen. Hij verzocht mij daarop naar mijn oud verblijf\nte gaan, waar hij mij weder in het bezit van mijn vorig huis zou\nstellen, en mij laten zien, dat er slechts geringe verbeteringen waren\naangebragt. Ik ging dus met hem mede, maar ik kon helaas den weg evenmin\nvinden, alsof ik er nooit geweest was, want zij hadden zoo veel boomen\nen zoo digt bij elkander geplant, en deze waren in tien jaren zoo\nineengegroeid, dat de plaats onbereikbaar was, behalve langs zulke\nkromme en bedekte wegen, daar alleen derzelver aanleggers den weg door\nkonden vinden.\nIk vroeg hem naar de reden van al deze verschansingen. Hij zeide, dat ik\nerkennen zou, dat zij noodig genoeg waren, als hij mij verhaald had wat\nzij van hunne komst op het eiland af beleefd hadden, vooral nadat zij\nhet ongeluk hadden gehad van mijn vertrek te vernemen. Hij zeide, dat\ntoen hij gehoord had, dat ik met een goed schip en naar mijn genoegen\nvertrokken was, hij niet dan zich kon verheugen over mijn geluk; en dat\nhij naderhand dikwijls vertrouwd had, dat hij mij den een of anderen\ntijd zou wederzien. Maar nimmer was hem in zijn leven iets zoo\nonverwachts en treurigs overgekomen als de teleurstelling, die hij in\nhet eerst gevoelde, toen hij, op het eiland teruggekeerd, vernomen had,\ndat ik mij daar niet meer bevond.\nWat de achtergebleven barbaren (gelijk hij ze noemde) betrof, en van\nwelke hij zeide mij veel te verhalen te hebben, de Spanjaarden achtten\nzich allen veel beter onder de wilden, hoezeer zij in zoo klein getal\nwaren. \"En waren zij sterker in getal geweest,\" zeide hij, \"wij zouden\nreeds lang in het vagevuur geweest zijn,\" terwijl hij een kruis maakte.\n\"Ik hoop echter, dat het u niet mishagen zal, mijnheer,\" vervolgde hij,\n\"als ik zeg hoe de noodzakelijkheid ons gedwongen heeft hen, tot behoud\nvan ons leven, te ontwapenen, en hen, die niet tevreden waren met in\nzachtheid onze meesters te zijn, maar onze moordenaars wilden zijn, tot\nonze onderdanen te maken.\" Ik antwoordde, dat ik er zeer voor gevreesd\nhad, toen ik hen daar achterliet, en dat niets bij mijn verlaten van het\neiland mij meer onrust baarde dan dat zij niet teruggekomen waren;\nanders zou ik hen eerst in het bezit van alle dingen gesteld en de\nanderen in een staat van onderdanigheid achtergelaten hebben, gelijk zij\nverdienden. Doch zoo zij hen daartoe gebragt hadden, was mij dit zeer\naangenaam, en ik er verre af hierin iets laakbaars te vinden; want ik\nwist, dat zij een hoop ontembare, weerbarstige schurken waren, die tot\nalle kwaad in staat waren.\nTerwijl hij dit verhaalde, kwam de man, die hij teruggezonden had, met\nnog elf anderen terug. Het was mij onmogelijk uit de kleeding, die zij\ndroegen, op te maken, van welke natie zij waren, doch hij verklaarde\nalles zoo wel aan hen als aan mij. Eerst keerde hij zich tot mij, en\nnaar hen wijzende, zeide hij: \"Dit, mijnheer, zijn eenigen van de\nheeren, die hun leven aan u te danken hebben,\" en zich daarop tot hen\nkeerende en op mij wijzende, deelde hij hun mede wie ik was. Waarop zij\nallen een voor een naar mij toekwamen, niet alsof zij matrozen en zulk\nvolk waren en ik huns gelijken; maar als waren zij ambassadeurs van\nhoogen adel en ik een monarch of groote veroveraar. Hun gedrag was ten\nuiterste hoffelijk en verpligtend, en toch met een manhaften ernst en\ndeftigheid gepaard, die hun zeer goed stond; kortom, zij waren zoo\nhoffelijk, dat ik naauwelijks wist hoedanig hunne beleefdheden te\nontvangen, veel minder hoe ik die beantwoorden zou.\nDe geschiedenis van hunne komst en gedrag op het eiland na mijn vertrek\nis zoo merkwaardig, en behelst zoo vele voorvallen, die het volgend deel\nmijns verhaals zal ophelderen, en in het meerendeel overeenstemmen met\nhet daarvan reeds gegeven verslag, dat ik niet dan met het grootst\ngenoegen die te boek stel voor hen, die na mij dit zullen lezen.\nIk zal niet langer mijzelven laten optreden, ten einde niet duizendmaal:\n\"ik zeide, hij zeide, ik hernam, hij hervatte,\" enz., te moeten herhalen,\nmaar zal de gebeurtenissen mededeelen, zoo als zij achtervolgens\ngeschied zijn, en mijn geheugen die bewaard heeft, uit hetgeen zij mij\nmededeelden en van hetgeen ik in mijn omgang met hen en op de plaats\nvernam.\nTen einde dit zoo duidelijk mogelijk geschiede, moet ik teruggaan tot\nden staat, waarin ik het eiland verliet, en van de personen, waarvan ik\nspreken moet. Eerstelijk moet ik herhalen, dat ik Vrijdags vader en den\nSpanjaard, die ik het leven gered had, in eene groote kanoe naar het\nvasteland, waarvoor ik het toen hield, had doen oversteken, om de\nmakkers van den Spanjaard, die hij achtergelaten had, te halen, ten\neinde hen voor gelijke ramp, als die hem getroffen had, te behoeden, en\nhen voor het oogenblik te hulp te komen, en ten einde wij zoo mogelijk,\ngezamenlijk een middel tot onze bevrijding zouden uitvinden.\nToen ik hen wegzond had ik geenerlei vooruitzigt of eenigen meerderen\ngrond om op mijne redding te hopen, dan ik twintig jaren lang gehad had,\nveel minder had ik eenig vermoeden van hetgeen kort daarop gebeurde,\nnamelijk, dat een Engelsen schip het eiland zou aandoen om mij op te\nnemen; en het moest voor hen eene zeer groote verrassing zijn, toen zij\nbij hunne terugkomst niet alleen vonden, dat ik vertrokken was, maar er\nook drie vreemdelingen aantroffen, in het bezit van al wat ik\nachtergelaten had, en dat anders hun eigendom zou geweest zijn.\nHet eerst waar ik naar vroeg, was naar hunne eigene lotgevallen; en ik\nverzocht hem mij een verslag te geven van zijne terugreis naar zijne\nlandslieden, met de boot, toen ik hem uitgezonden had om hen te halen.\nHij zeide, dat dit zeer eenvoudig was, want dat hun onder weg niets\nmerkwaardigs gebeurd was. Zij hadden stil weder en eene effen zee gehad.\nHet was buiten kijf, zeide hij, dat zijne landslieden bovenmate verheugd\nwaren hem weder te zien. (Het schijnt, dat hij de voornaamste onder hen\nwas, want de kapitein van het schip, waarmede zij schipbreuk geleden\nhadden, was voor eenigen tijd gestorven). Zijne terugkomst verbaasde hen\nte meer, daar zij wisten, dat hij in de handen der wilden gevallen was,\ndie, naar zij begrepen, hem zoo goed als hunne andere gevangenen zouden\nopgegeten hebben, en toen hij hun verhaalde hoe hij gered was geworden\nen thans in staat was gesteld hen vandaar te voeren, dachten zij te\ndroomen, en waren, zeide hij, even verbaasd als Jozefs broeders, toen\ndeze hun verhaalde wie hij was, en hoe hoog hij aan Farao's hof verheven\nwas. Maar toen hij hun zijne wapens, kruid en lood en mondbehoeften liet\nzien, die hij voor hunne reis medegebragt had, kwamen zij tot\nzichzelven, juichten over hunne bevrijding en maakten zich dadelijk tot\nhun vertrek gereed.\nHunne eerste zorg was thans kanoes te bekomen, en hierbij waren zij\ngenoodzaakt niet al te eerlijk te werk te gaan, maar van hunne vrienden,\nde wilden, twee groote kanoes of praauwen te leenen, onder voorwendsel,\ndat zij er mede gingen visschen. Met deze vertrokken zij den volgenden\nmorgen. Zij hadden ook weinig tijds noodig om zich gereed te maken, want\nzij hadden noch bagaadje, noch kleederen, noch voorraad, noch iets dan\nzij aan het lijf hadden, en geen anderen voorraad dan eenige wortelen,\nwaarvan zij gewoon waren brood te maken.\nIn het geheel waren zij drie weken afwezig, en ongelukkig voor hen had\nzich juist in dien tijd de gelegenheid voor mij opgedaan van het eiland\nte verlaten, gelijk ik in het vorig deel verhaald heb, terwijl ik er\ndrie alleronbeschaamdste, weerbarstigste en verhardste schurken\nachterliet, die men ooit ergens vinden kon, en zeer tot verdriet en\nongeluk der Spanjaarden, daar kan men op rekenen.\nDe eenigste pligtmatige daad der schurken was, dat toen de Spanjaarden\naan wal stapten, zij hun mijnen brief gaven, en levensmiddelen en\ngoederen, gelijk ik gelast had. Ook gaven zij hun de vele geschrevene\naanwijzingen, hoe ik gedurende mijn verblijf aldaar gehandeld had, hoe\nik mijn brood bakte, mijne tamme geiten aanfokte, mijn koorn plantte en\nmijne druiven droogde, potten bakte, kortom, hoe ik alles deed. Dit\ngeheele schriftelijke opstel gaven zij aan de Spanjaarden, waarvan twee\nvrij goed Engelsch verstonden. Ook weigerden zij in den beginne niet,\nhen met een en ander te gerijven, want zij leefden eerst in vrij goede\nverstandhouding; zij vergunden hun mede het gebruik van het huis of den\nkelder, en zoo leefden zij vrij gezellig, en de Spanjaard, die veel van\nmij afgezien had, benevens Vrijdags vader, beschikten alle\nwerkzaamheden. De Engelschen deden niets anders dan het eiland\nrondzwerven, papegaaijen schieten en schildpadden vangen, en als zij des\navonds te huis kwamen, hadden de Spanjaarden het eten voor hen gereed\ngemaakt.\nHierin zouden de Spanjaards genoegen hebben genomen, als de anderen hen\nslechts ongemoeid hadden gelaten, maar dit konden zij niet van zich\nverkrijgen, en even als de hond in de fabel wilden zij noch zelf eten,\nnoch het anderen laten doen. Wel waren hunne geschillen in het eerst\nbeuzelachtig en niet meldenswaard, maar eindelijk barstten zij in\nopenbaren oorlog uit, en deze begon met alle denkelijke woestheid en\nruwheid, zonder oogmerk, zonder aanleiding, en inderdaad strijdig met\nalle gezond verstand, en ofschoon het eerste verhaal er van mij door de\nSpanjaarden, als het ware de aanklagers, gedaan werd, konden de kerels,\ntoen ik hen daarover ondervroeg, er geen woord van ontkennen.\nMaar alvorens hiervan de bijzonderheden mede te deelen, moet ik iets\nvermelden, wat ik in mijn vorig verhaal vergeten heb, namelijk, dat\njuist toen wij het anker zouden ligten bij mijn vertrek, er een kleine\ntwist aan boord ontstond, die ik vreesde, dat in eene tweede muiterij\nzou ontaarden. Deze werd ook niet gestild, voor dat de kapitein ons\nallen tot zijn bijstand geroepen had, hen met geweld uiteen dreef, en de\ntwee weerbarstigsten in de ijzers zette; en daar deze ook aan de\nvroegere wanorde deel genomen, en zich eenige zware bedreigingen de\ntweede maal hadden laten ontvallen, dreigde hij hun in de ijzers naar\nEngeland te zullen voeren, en daar voor muiterij en afloopen van het\nschip te laten ophangen.\nHoewel de kapitein dit niet ernstig meende, scheen het toch eenige\nandere matrozen bang gemaakt te hebben, en deze trachtten de overigen\ndiets te maken, dat de kapitein hen met goede woorden zocht te paaijen,\ntot hij eene Engelsche haven zou bereikt hebben, en hen dan allen in de\ngevangenis zetten zou, en hun proces laten opmaken. De stuurman had dit\nvernomen en deelde het ons mede, waarop men besloot, dat ik, die nog\naltijd voor een groot man bij hen doorging, met den stuurman bij hen zou\ngaan, en het volk geruststellen en beloven, dat het verledene vergeven\nzou zijn, als zij zich gedurende de verdere reis goed gedroegen. Ik deed\ndit, en op mijn woord stelden zij zich gerust, vooral toen ik de twee\nmatrozen, die in de ijzers zaten, deed ontslaan.\nMaar door deze muiterij hadden wij, daar de wind ook was gaan liggen,\ndien nacht voor anker moeten blijven. Den volgenden morgen vernamen wij,\ndat de twee man, die uit de boeijen waren ontslagen, ieder een geweer en\neenige andere wapens gestolen hadden, en kruid en lood, hoeveel wisten\nwij niet, en met de pinnas naar hunne makkers aan den wal gevlugt waren.\nOp het ontdekken hiervan zond ik de groote boot met twaalf man en den\nstuurman aan wal om hen te zoeken; maar zij konden noch hen, noch een\nder overigen vinden, want allen waren in de bosschen gevlugt, toen zij\nde boot zagen naderen. De stuurman wilde eerst, om hen te straffen, alle\naanplantingen vernielen, en al hun goed en huisraad verbranden, maar\ndaar hij hiertoe geene orders had, liet hij alles zoo als het was, en\nnam alleen de pinnas weder mede.\nZij waren dus thans met hun vijven, maar de drie eersten waren zoo veel\nwoester, dat zij na twee of drie dagen de nieuw aangekomen ter deur\nuitwierpen en niets met hen te doen wilden hebben; het duurde lang eer\nzij zelfs bewogen konden worden hun eenig eten te geven; de Spanjaarden\nwaren toen nog niet aangekomen. Toen deze aankwamen, wilden zij de drie\nEngelschen overreden hunne landslieden weder op te nemen, ten einde,\ngelijk zij zeiden, allen slechts een huisgezin zouden uitmaken, maar\ndeze wilden daarvan niet hooren. Dus leefden deze twee Engelschen op\nzichzelven, en bemerkende, dat zij op hunne vlijt alleen moesten\nsteunen, sloegen zij tenten op aan de noordzijde van het eiland, doch\nwat naar het westen toe, om voor de wilden bevrijd te blijven, die\naltijd op de oostzijde van het eiland aan wal stapten.\nHier bouwden zij twee hutten; een om in te wonen en een om hunnen\nvoorraad in te bergen, en daar de Spanjaarden hun eenig zaaikoren en\nvooral erwten geschonken hadden, zaaiden en plantten en omheinden zij,\nop de wijze als ik gedaan had, en leefden rustig voort. Hun eerste koren\nkwam juist boven den grond, en schoon de tijd hun slechts toegelaten had\nweinig om te spitten, was dit genoeg om hen te voeden, en van\ngenoegzamen spijsvoorraad te voorzien. Een hunner, die aan boord\nkoksmaat geweest was, was zeer behendig in het maken van soep, podding\nen soortgelijke spijzen, waartoe de rijst, melk en het weinige vleesch,\ndat zij hadden, hem in staat stelde.\nTerwijl zij aldus rustig voortleefden, kwamen de drie schurken, en dat\nnog wel hunne landslieden waren, bij hen, alleen uit lust om hen te\nschelden en te beschimpen. Zij zeiden, dat het eiland hun toebehoorde,\ndat de gouverneur, waarmede zij mij bedoelden, hen in het bezit er van\ngesteld had, en niemand anders er eenig regt op had, terwijl zij onder\nafgrijsselijke vloeken betuigden, dat zij op hunnen grond geene huizen\nzouden bouwen zonder er belasting voor te betalen.\nDe twee Engelschen dachten, dat zij schertsten, en noodigden hen binnen\nte komen, om te zien welk slag van huizen zij gebouwd hadden, en hun te\nzeggen hoeveel grondrente zij daar wel voor moesten betalen. Een hunner\nvoegde er lagchende bij, dat hij hoopte, zij zouden, als grondeigenaars,\nhet land verbeteren en er gebouwen opzetten, en hun, volgens gewoonte,\neen langen pachttijd vergunnen, en verzocht hun een notaris te halen om\nde grondbrieven op te maken. Een der anderen zeide daarop onder veel\nvloeken en zweren, dat zij zien zouden, dat het geene gekheid was, en\neen eind weegs vandaar gaande, waar de ander een vuur aangelegd had, om\neten te koken, nam hij een brandend stuk hout en wierp het tegen de hut,\ndie binnen weinige minuten in de asch zou gelegd zijn, zoo niet de ander\nhem weggestooten, en hoewel niet zonder moeite, het vuur had uitgetrapt.\nDe kerel werd zoo woedend, dat de ander hem wegstiet, dat hij een stuk\nhout opnam, en zoo de ander niet vlug den slag ontweken en in zijne hut\nde wijk genomen had, ware het met hem gedaan geweest. Zijn makker,\nziende in welk gevaar zij beide waren, liep hem achterna, en een\noogenblik daarna kwamen zij met hunne geweren terug. Degeen, op wien de\nslag gemunt was geweest, velde dengeen, die hem dien had willen\ntoebrengen, met den kolf van zijn geweer neder, voor de anderen hem te\nhulp konden komen, en toen deze naderden, hielden zij hen de geweren\nvoor en gelastten hen heen te gaan.\nDe anderen hadden ook vuurwapens bij zich, maar de moedigste van de twee\neerlijke Engelschen (gelijk ik hen voortaan noemen zal) door het gevaar\nwanhopig gemaakt, zeide, dat zij hen zouden doodschieten als zij hand of\nvoet bewogen, en gelastte hen hunne wapens af te leggen. Dit laatste\ndeden zij wel niet; maar de standvastigheid van de anderen bragt hen tot\nonderhandelen, en zij verlangden den gekwetste mede te nemen en te\nvertrekken; het schijnt, dat deze vrij zwaar gekwetst was. Zij hadden\nechter ongelijk, dat zij, thans de overhand hebbende, hen niet\nontwapenden, gelijk zij hadden kunnen doen, en daarop naar de Spanjaards\ntoegingen en hun verhaalden hoe de schurken hem bedreigd hadden, want\ndeze drie zonnen op niets dan op wraak, en gaven toen dagelijks de\nblijken daarvan.\nIk zal kleinere staaltjes hiervan niet vermelden, als het vertrappen van\nhun koorn, het doodschieten van jonge geiten en van een tamme geit, die\nde arme lieden voor verdere aanfokking hielden. Zij plaagden hen op\ndergelijke wijze nacht en dag, tot dat de twee anderen in wanhoop\nbesloten hen alle drie te bevechten, bij de eerste gelegenheid de beste.\nZij besloten te dien einde naar mijne oude woning te gaan, waar de\nSpanjaards en de drie schurken gezamenlijk woonden, ten einde de\nSpanjaards te vragen om toe te zien, dat het bij het gevecht eerlijk in\nzijn werk ging. Op een morgen voor dat de dag aanbrak, begaven zij zich\nop weg, en voor het kasteel gekomen (gelijk zij het noemden) riepen zij\nde Engelschen bij hun naam, en zeiden aan een Spanjaard, die hun\nantwoordde, dat zij hen wilden spreken.\nToevallig hadden twee der Spanjaarden den vorigen dag in het bosch een\nder eerlijke Engelschen ontmoet, die zich bij hen bitter beklaagd had\nover de schandelijke behandeling, die zij van hunne landslieden\nondergingen, hoe deze hunne aanplantingen vernield, hun koorn vertrapt\nhadden, waaraan zij zoo hard gewerkt hadden; dat zij hunne melkgeit en\ndrie jongen gedood hadden, waarvan zij geheel moesten leven, en dat zoo\nde Spanjaarden hen niet bijstonden, zij van honger moesten sterven. Toen\nde Spanjaarden dien avond te huis kwamen, namen zij de vrijheid de\nEngelschen te berispen, schoon in zachte en gematigde bewoordingen, en\nvroegen hoe zij zoo wreed konden zijn jegens lieden, die hun geheel geen\nkwaad deden, en die zelf hun onderhoud trachtten te verdienen, en wie\nhet zoo veel moeite had gekost hunne zaken op dien voet te brengen.\nEen der Engelschen antwoordde zeer barsch, wat zij daar te maken hadden;\nzij waren zonder verlof op het eiland gekomen; de grond behoorde hun\nniet. \"Wel sennor,\" zeide een der Spanjaarden zeer bedaard, \"zij moeten\nniet van honger sterven.\"--\"Dat kunnen zij doen, wat mij betreft,\"\nantwoordde de Engelschman, als een echte ruwe zeebonk, \"zij mogen daar\nniet planten of bouwen.\"--\"Wat moeten zij dan doen, sennor?\" vroeg de\nSpanjaard. Een ander der woestelingen antwoordde, dat zij knechts\nmoesten zijn en voor hen werken.--\"Maar hoe kunt gij dat verwachten,\"\nhernam de Spanjaard, \"gij hebt ze niet voor geld gekocht, gij hebt geen\nregt hen tot uwe knechts te maken.\" De Engelschman antwoordde, dat het\neiland hun toebehoorde, de gouverneur had het hun gegeven en niemand had\ndaar iets te zeggen dan zij, en daarbij zwoer hij, dat hij telkens hunne\nnieuwe hutten zou afbranden, en dat zij er geen op hun land zouden\nzetten.\n\"Wel, sennor,\" zeide de Spanjaard, \"op dien grond zouden wij ook uwe\ndienstknechten zijn.\"--\"Ja,\" zeide de onbeschaamde kerel, \"en dat zult\ngij ook worden, eer wij met elkander afgedaan hebben.\" Hij doormengde\ndit gezegde met eenige afgrijsselijke vloeken. De Spanjaard echter\nlachte hierover en gaf hem geen antwoord. Dit gesprek had echter de\nEngelschen warm gemaakt; een hunner, Willem Atkins geloof ik, zeide:\n\"Kom Jack, laat ons hen op een ander tijd te lijf gaan; wij zullen hun\nkasteel vernielen, zij zullen op onzen grond geene plantaadje\naanleggen.\"\nHierop vertrokken zij, ieder met een snaphaan, een pistool en sabel\ngewapend, terwijl zij verscheidene bedreigingen uitstieten, wat zij den\nSpanjaarden zouden doen, als er zich de gelegenheid toe aanbood. Het\nschijnt echter, dat de Spanjaarden hen niet genoeg verstonden om hunne\nbedoeling op te maken, alleen begrepen zij, dat zij verbitterd waren,\nomdat zij de twee andere Engelschen voorgesproken hadden.\nWaar zij heen gingen en hoe zij dien avond den tijd doorbragten, zeiden\nde Spanjaarden, wisten zij niet. Het schijnt echter, dat zij een deel\nvan den nacht rondzwierven, en toen, vermoeid zijnde, gingen liggen op\nde plaats, die ik mijne buitenplaats noemde, en dat zij toen zich\nversliepen. Zij hadden namelijk besloten tot middernacht te wachten, en\ndan hunne arme landslieden, als zij sliepen, te overvallen, en gelijk\nzij naderhand bekenden, hunne hut in brand te steken, terwijl zij er in\nsliepen, en hen laten verbranden of hen dood te slaan als zij er uit\nkwamen. Daar nu de boosheid zelden gerust slaapt, is het wonder, dat zij\nniet wakker bleven.\nDaar echter de twee anderen ook een voornemen hadden, schoon een veel\nloffelijker dan dat om te branden en te moorden, gebeurde het, en zeer\ntot hun geluk, dat zij op, en uitgegaan waren voor de bloeddorstige\nschelmen aan hunne hutten kwamen. Toen deze daar gekomen en de bewoners\nvertrokken vonden, riep Willem Atkins, die naar het scheen de belhamel\nwas: \"Ha, Jack, daar is het nest, maar de vogels zijn gevlogen!\" Zij\nwisten eerst niet wat zij er van denken moesten, dat zij zoo vroeg\nuitgegaan waren, en begrepen, dat de Spanjaards hen gewaarschuwd hadden;\nhierop sloegen zij de handen ineen, en zwoeren, dat zij zich op de\nSpanjaarden zouden wreken. Zoodra zij deze bloedige overeenkomst\ngesloten hadden, vielen zij op de woning der arme Engelschen aan. Zij\nstaken wel niets in brand, maar braken de beide hutten stuksgewijs\nuiteen, en lieten niet den minsten stijl in den grond, zoodat men\nnaauwelijks zien kon waar zij gestaan hadden. Al hun huisraad en\ngoederen vernielden zij, en strooiden alles zoo in het rond, dat de arme\nlieden naderhand eenige hunner goederen een kwartier verder vonden\nliggen.\nToen dit gedaan was, rukten zij al het jonge plantsoen uit, dat zij\ngeplant hadden, vertrapten de heining, waardoor zij hun vee en graan\nbeschermden, en kortom, vernielden en verwoestten alles zoo als\nnaauwelijks eene horde Tartaren had kunnen doen.\nDe twee Engelschen waren op dat oogenblik uitgegaan om hen op te zoeken,\nen zij hadden besloten hen te bevechten, waar zij hen ook vonden, schoon\nzij twee tegen drie waren, zoo dat er zeker bloed zou gestort zijn als\nzij elkander ontmoet hadden, want allen waren zeer kloeke en moedige\nkerels. Doch de Voorzienigheid zorgde meer, hen van elkander te houden,\ndan zij om elkander te ontmoeten, want, alsof zij voor elkander\nwegliepen, waren de twee hier, de drie waren ginder; en toen naderhand\nde twee teruggingen om hen op te zoeken, kwamen de drie aan hunne oude\nwoning terug; wij zullen zien hoe verschillend zij zich gedroegen. Toen\nde drie terug kwamen, als dolle schepselen, kokende van drift, waarin\nhunne daden hen gebragt hadden, kwamen zij bij de Spanjaarden, en\nverhaalden hun, al snoevende, wat zij gedaan hadden, en een hunner trad\nnaar de Spanjaards toe, als waren zij een troep kwade jongens, draaide\neen den hoed op het hoofd rond, en sloeg hem daarop er mede in het\ngelaat, zeggende: \"En gij, Spaansche Jaap, zult van hetzelfde laken een\npak hebben, als gij u voortaan niet beter gedraagt.\" De Spanjaard, die,\nofschoon een stil, beleefd man, zoo moedig als een leeuw was, zag hem\neene poos strak aan, en stapte, daar hij geen wapen in de hand had,\ndaarop langzaam naar hem toe, en deed hem met een vuistslag, als een\ngedolden os, op den grond storten; waarop een van de schurken, even\nonbeschaamd, dadelijk een pistool op den Spanjaard loste. Hij miste hem,\nmaar de kogel streek langs zijn hoofd, en raakte hem even aan zijn oor,\nzoo dat dit bloedde. Het zien van het bloed deed den Spanjaard gelooven,\ndat hij zwaarder gewond was, dan het geval was, en hierdoor eenigzins\ndriftig geworden, want hij was tot hiertoe volkomen bedaard gebleven,\nnam hij het geweer op van den kerel, dien hij nedergeveld had, en stond\nop het punt den man, die op hem gevuurd had, dood te schieten, toen de\nandere Spanjaarden uit den kelder kwamen, hem toeriepen niet te\nschieten, tusschen beide traden en de anderen ontwapenden en bonden.\nToen zij thans ontwapend waren, en bemerkten, dat zij zich ook de\nSpanjaards tot vijand hadden gemaakt, zoo wel als hunne landslieden,\nbegonnen zij een toontje lager, en gaven den Spanjaards goede woorden,\nom hun de geweren terug te geven; maar de Spanjaards, in aanmerking\ngenomen de veete, die er tusschen hen en hunne landslieden bestond, en\nbegrijpende, dat het best ware hen van elkander te houden, zeiden, dat\nzij hun geen kwaad wilden doen, en zoo zij vreedzaam wilden leven, hen\nblijven bijstaan, gelijk zij vroeger gedaan hadden, maar dat zij er\nniet aan konden denken hunne wapens terug te geven, terwijl zij\nvoornemens schenen er hunne landslieden mede te beleedigen, en zelfs\ngedreigd hadden hen allen tot slaven te maken.\nDe schurken wilden evenmin naar rede hooren als handelen, en op deze\nweigering gingen zij heen, vloekende als dollen, en dreigende wat zij\nhen ook zonder vuurwapenen zouden doen. Maar de Spanjaards, die hunne\nbedreigingen verachtten, zeiden hun, dat zij te zorgen hadden van geen\nkwaad aan hunne plantaadjes of vee te doen, want dat zij hen anders als\nwilde beesten zouden doodschieten, waar zij hen vonden, en hen ophangen\nzoo zij hun levende in handen vielen. Wel verre van hierdoor te bedaren,\ndropen zij af, vloekende en zwerende als helsche furi\u00ebn. Naauwelijks\nwaren zij weg of de twee anderen kwamen, even woedend, schoon om eene\nandere reden; want toen zij, bij hunne aanplantingen gekomen, die allen,\ngelijk gezegd is, vernield en verwoest vonden, hadden zij reden genoeg\nzich te vertoornen. Zij konden naauwelijks hun verhaal doen, want de\nSpanjaards lieten hen niet aan het woord komen, en verhaalden hun\nwedervaren; en waarlijk het was opmerkelijk hoe drie menschen hier\nnegentien getergd hadden, zonder straf te beloopen. De Spanjaarden\nechter verachtten hen, en na hen ontwapend te hebben, telden zij hunne\nbedreigingen weinig, maar de twee Engelschen besloten het hun te\nvergelden, wat moeite het hun ook kosten zou hen op te sporen.\nMaar hier kwamen de Spanjaarden ook weder tusschen beide, en zeiden hun,\ndat daar de anderen reeds ontwapend waren, zij niet konden toestemmen,\ndat zij (de twee) hen met vuurwapens vervolgden en misschien\ndoodschoten. \"Maar,\" zeide de bezadigde Spanjaard, die hun gouverneur\nwas, \"wij willen ons best doen, dat u geregtigheid geschiede, als gij\nhet aan ons wilt overlaten, want er is geen twijfel aan of zij zullen\nterugkomen als hunne eerste drift bedaard is, daar zij zonder onzen\nbijstand niet leven kunnen, en ik beloof u, dat wij geen vrede met hen\nzullen maken zonder eene volledige voldoening aan u, en op deze\nvoorwaarde hopen wij, dat gij u van alle gewelddadigheden jegens hen\nzult onthouden, anders dan ter uwer verdediging.\"\nDe twee Engelschen stemden slechts met weerzin hierin toe, maar de\nSpanjaarden verzekerden dat zij het alleen deden om bloedstorting te\nvoorkomen en eindelijk alles te schikken. \"Want,\" zeide hij, \"zoo veel\nzijn wij niet in getal of er is ruimte genoeg voor ons allen, en het zou\njammer zijn zoo wij niet allen in goede vriendschap leefden.\" Eindelijk\nstemden zij dan toe af te wachten hoe de zaak afloopen zou, en bleven\neenige dagen bij de Spanjaards, omdat hunne eigene woning vernield was.\nOngeveer vijf dagen daarna kwamen de drie vagebonden, vermoeid van hun\nrondzwerven, en half dood van honger, daar zij bijkans alleen van\nschildpadeijeren geleefd hadden, naar het woonhuis terug, en daar zij\nden Spanjaard, die, gelijk ik zeide, de gouverneur was, met nog twee\nanderen langs de kreek zagen wandelen, kwamen zij zeer ootmoedig naar\nhen toe en smeekten op nieuw in hun huisgezin opgenomen te worden. De\nSpanjaarden ontvingen hen beleefd; maar zeiden, dat zij zoo barbaarsch\njegens hunne landslieden, en zoo onbescheiden jegens henzelve gehandeld\nhadden, dat hij geen besluit kon nemen, zonder de twee Engelschen en\nzijne overige landslieden te raadplegen. Hij zou hen echter gaan\nopzoeken en er over spreken, en hun binnen een half uur antwoord geven.\nZij schenen er kwaad aan toe te zijn, want toen zij een half uur moesten\nwachten, smeekten zij, dat hij hun eerst een stuk brood wilde geven;\nhetgeen hij deed, en hun tevens een stuk gekookt geitenvleesch en een\ngebraden papegaai toezond, dat zij gretig opaten, want zij waren\nuitgehongerd.\nNa verloop van een half uur werden zij geroepen, en nu volgde nog een\nlange onderhandeling. Hunne twee landgenooten beschuldigden hen van het\nvernielen van al wat zij bezaten, en van het voornemen hen te\nvermoorden, hetwelk zij vroeger openlijk verklaard hadden, en dus thans\nniet konden ontkennen. De Spanjaards handelden als bemiddelaars, en daar\nzij vroeger de twee Engelschen belet hadden hen te vervolgen, toen zij\nongewapend waren, zoo gelastten zij thans de drie, dat zij de hutten van\nhunne landslieden weder zouden opbouwen, de eene even als zij geweest\nwas, de andere wat grooter; ook de heiningen weder te herstellen, andere\nboomen te planten voor de uitgeroeide, het land om te spitten, om het\nweder te bezaaijen, waar zij het vernield hadden; kortom, alles zoo veel\nmogelijk in zijn vorigen staat te herstellen, want geheel kon het niet,\ndaar het jaargetij voor het koorn voorbij was, en de boomen en heiningen\neerst weder moesten groeijen.\nZij voldeden hieraan gewillig, en daar men hen al dien tijd goed van\neten voorzag, leefden zij zeer ordelijk, en de geheele bevolking begon\nweder aangenaam en genoegelijk te leven; slechts konden de drie\nEngelschen nimmer overgehaald worden om voor zichzelven te werken,\nbehalve nu en dan voor eene poos, als hun dit in het hoofd kwam. De\nSpanjaarden zeiden hun echter ronduit, dat zoo zij slechts gezellig en\nin goede vriendschap wilden leven, en niets tegen het welzijn der\nvolkplanting ondernemen, zij voor hen zouden werken en hen laten\nrondzwerven en luijeren zoo veel zij wilden; en nadat zij aldus een paar\nmaanden zich vrij wel gedragen hadden, gaven de Spanjaards hun hunne\nwapens terug en verlof om te gaan waar zij wilden.\nGeen week duurde het echter of de ondankbare kerels begonnen even\nonrustig en lastig te worden. Thans echter gebeurde er iets, dat hun\naller veiligheid in gevaar bragt, waardoor zij genoodzaakt waren alle\nbijzondere veeten te laten varen en alleen op hun lijfsbehoud te denken.\nHet gebeurde op een nacht, dat de Spanjaard-gouverneur, gelijk ik hem\nnoemde, dat wil zeggen de Spanjaard, dien ik het leven gered had, en\nthans zoo veel als kapitein van zijne landslieden was, zeer onrustig was\nen volstrekt niet slapen kon. Hij was volkomen wel, zeide hij mij, maar\nallerlei denkbeelden kwamen hem voor den geest, van lieden die vochten\nen elkander doodsloegen, schoon hij volkomen wakker was, hoewel hij\nvolstrekt den slaap niet vatten kon. Kortom, hij bleef eene poos liggen,\nmaar steeds onrustiger wordende, besloot hij op te staan. Daar hun\naantal zoo groot was, sliepen zij niet, zoo als ik, in eene hangmat,\nmaar lagen op geitenvellen, waarvan zij legersteden gemaakt hadden. Als\nzij dus wilden opstaan, behoefden zij weinig anders te doen om gereed te\nzijn dan misschien schoenen en een buis aan te doen.\nOpgestaan zijnde, zag hij uit, maar het was zoo donker, dat hij niets\nonderscheiden kon; en bovendien belemmerden de boomen, die ik geplant\nhad en nu digt ineengegroeid waren, het uitzigt, zoodat hij alleen zien\nkon, dat de sterren helder aan de lucht stonden; en geenerlei gerucht\nhoorende, keerde hij terug en ging weder liggen, maar het baatte niet,\nhij kon niet slapen, en had geen rust, want hij was in de uiterste\nonrust, zonder dat hij wist waarom.\nDaar hij met opstaan en heen en weder loopen eenig gedruisch had\ngemaakt, werd een ander wakker, die vroeg wie er opgestaan was. De\ngouverneur zeide hoe het met hem was. \"Zegt gij zoo,\" zeide de ander,\n\"zulk een voorgevoel is niet te verachten; er wordt zeker eenig kwaad\ngebrouwen in onze nabijheid. Waar zijn de Engelschen?\" vervolgde\nhij.--\"Die zijn allen in hunne hutten,\" zeide hij, \"en rustig.\" Het\nschijnt, dat de Spanjaarden het grootste vertrek gehouden hadden, en de\nEngelschen afzonderlijk lieten slapen, waar zij niet bij de anderen\nkonden komen. \"Er is dan toch iets gaande,\" hernam de andere Spanjaard,\n\"daarvan ben ik door mijne eigene ondervinding verzekerd. Ik houd mij\novertuigd, dat onze ziel in betrekking staat tot bewoners eener\nonzigtbare wereld, en dat een voorgevoel ons altijd tot ons welzijn\nwordt gegeven, als wij er goed partij van weten te trekken. Kom,\"\nvervolgde hij, \"laat ons naar buiten gaan en eens uitzien; zoo wij niets\nvinden, dat onze bezorgdheid regtvaardigt, zal ik u eene geschiedenis\nverhalen, die u van de juistheid van mijn voorslag zal overtuigen.\"\nZij begaven zich daarop boven op den top van den heuvel, gelijk ik\ngewoon was, maar daar zij sterk en in gezelschap en niet alleen, gelijk\nik, waren, gebruikten zij geenszins dezelfde voorzorgen als ik, van\nlangs de ladder tot halfweg te komen, en die dan op te halen en tot op\nden top te klimmen, maar zij gingen gerust en onbezorgd door het\nboschje, toen zij verrast werden door het zien van een licht als van een\nvuur, niet ver van hen af, en het hooren van menschenstemmen, niet van\neen of twee, maar van een groot aantal.\nTelkens als ik ontdekt had, dat er wilden op het eiland geland waren,\nwas ik altijd zeer bevreesd geweest, dat zij zouden ontdekken, dat het\neiland door iemand bewoond werd, en toen zij dit eens bemerkt hadden,\nbemerkten zij het zoo geducht, dat degeen, die er het leven afbragten,\nnaauwelijks het konden navertellen, want zij verdwenen zoo schielijk\nmogelijk, en niemand, die mij gezien had, ontsnapte het, om het anderen\nmede te deelen, behalve de drie wilden bij onze laatste ontmoeting, die\nin de boot sprongen, en welke ik, gelijk ik zeide, vreesde dat naar huis\nzouden keeren en met meer hulp terugkomen. Of dit nu de oorzaak was, dat\ner zoo velen gekomen waren, dan of zij zonder iets te vermoeden er\ntoevallig met hun gewoon bloeddorstig doel kwamen, konden de\nSpanjaarden, naar het schijnt, niet ontdekken. Maar hoe dit zij, het\nware hunne zaak geweest, zich of verborgen te houden en hen in het\ngeheel niet te zien, veel minder den wilden te laten zien, dat er\nbewoners op het eiland waren; of hen zoo geducht op het lijf te vallen,\ndat geen een hunner ontsnapte, hetwelk zij alleen hadden kunnen doen\ndoor hen van hunne booten af te snijden; maar zij hadden hiertoe geen\ntegenwoordigheid van geest genoeg, hetgeen hen voor langen tijd hunne\nrust kostte.\nMen kan er op aan, dat de gouverneur en zijn makker, hierdoor\nverschrikt, dadelijk terugliepen en de overigen wekten, en hun\nverhaalden in welk groot gevaar zij verkeerden, doch het was hun\nonmogelijk stil te blijven waar zij waren, maar allen liepen naar buiten\nom te zien hoe de zaken stonden. Terwijl het duister was kon dit ook\ngeen kwaad, en hadden zij gelegenheid genoeg hen gade te slaan bij het\nlicht van drie vuren, die zij op eenigen afstand van elkander aangelegd\nhadden. Wat de wilden daar verrigtten, wisten zij niet, en wat zij zelve\nzouden doen, evenmin; want vooreerst waren er te veel vijanden, en ten\ntweede bleven zij niet bij elkander, maar waren in verschillende\npartijen verdeeld, die op onderscheidene plaatsen aan het strand waren.\nDe Spanjaarden werden door dit gezigt niet weinig verontrust, en daar\nzij zagen, dat de wilden gedurig langs het strand zwierven, zoo\ntwijfelden zij niet of eenigen zouden ten laatste aan hunne woning of\neenige andere plaats belanden, waar zij de sporen van bewoning zouden\nzien; en zij waren ook vol bekommering over hunne kudde geiten, daar zoo\ndeze uiteengejaagd en vernield werd, het gebrek hun ten deel zouden\nvallen; dus besloten zij eerst, voor het licht werd, drie mannen af te\nzenden, namelijk twee Spanjaards en een Engelschman, om al de geiten\nnaar het dal te te drijven waar de spelonk was, en ze des noods in de\ngrot zelve te drijven.\nZoo zij al de wilden digt bijeen en op eenigen afstand van hunne kanoes\nzagen, besloten zij hen aan te vallen, al waren er ook honderd, maar\ndit gebeurde niet, want een troep van hen was wel een half uur van de\nandere verwijderd, en deze waren, gelijk naderhand bleek, van\nverschillende volkeren. Na lang beraadslaagd en zich het hoofd gebroken\nte hebben, over hetgeen hun te doen stond, kwamen zij eindelijk overeen,\nom, terwijl het nog duister was, den ouden wilde, Vrijdags vader, op\nverspieding te laten uitgaan, ten einde, zoo mogelijk, iets te vernemen,\nwaarom zij kwamen, wat zij voornemens waren te doen, en wat dies meer\nis. De oude man begreep dit spoedig, en na zich geheel ontkleed te\nhebben, gelijk meest al de wilden waren, ging hij heen. Na verloop van\neen paar uur kwam hij terug, zeggende, dat hij, zonder ontdekt te\nworden, onder hen geweest was, dat er twee partijen waren en van\nverschillende nati\u00ebn, die in oorlog geweest waren, en elkander een\ngrooten slag in hun eigen land hadden geleverd, waarbij van weerszijden\nverscheidene gevangenen gemaakt waren. Nu waren zij toevallig op\nhetzelfde eiland gekomen om van hunne gevangenen een feestmaal te\nhouden, maar dit zamentreffen op dezelfde plaats had al hunne vreugde\nvergald; zij waren zeer verwoed en zoo nabij elkander, dat zij elkander\nwaarschijnlijk weder zouden bevechten, zoodra het dag werd. Hij had\nechter niet bemerkt, dat zij eenig vermoeden hadden, dat er buiten hen\nnog iemand op het eiland zich bevond. Naauwelijks had hij zijn verhaal\nge\u00ebindigd, of aan het ongewone rumoer konden zij hooren, dat de twee\nkleine legers weder in een bloedig gevecht waren.\nVrijdags vader gebruikte al zijne welsprekendheid om hen te overreden,\ndat zij zich verbergen zouden en niet laten zien. Hij zeide, dat dit het\nveiligste was, en dat zij niets behoefden te doen dan zich stil te\nhouden; de wilden zouden elkander onderling ombrengen, en dan zouden de\noverblijvenden heengaan; gelijk ook werkelijk zoo gebeurde. Maar het was\nhem onmogelijk hen hiertoe over te halen, vooral de Engelschen; bij deze\nhad de nieuwsgierigheid zoo ver de overhand boven de voorzigtigheid, dat\nzij volstrekt het gevecht moesten zien. Echter gebruikten zij toch de\nvoorzorg van er niet openlijk heen te gaan, uit hunne woning, maar zij\ngingen dieper het bosch in en plaatsten zich zoo, dat zij veilig het\ngevecht konden aanzien, zonder, naar zij geloofden, gezien te kunnen\nworden; het schijnt echter, dat de wilden hen zagen, gelijk later\nblijken zal.\nHet gevecht was zeer hevig, en als men de Engelschen gelooven mag,\nbemerkten zij, dat er eenige mannen onder waren van groote dapperheid,\nonwrikbaren moed en zeer bedreven in het bestieren van het gevecht. Het\ngevecht duurde twee uren, zeiden zij, voor zij konden gissen, welke\npartij het onderspit zou delven; maar toen begon de troep, die het\ndigtst bij onze woning was, te verflaauwen, en na eene poos namen\neenigen de vlugt. Dit verwekte weder groote bekommering bij ons volk,\ndat eenigen in het boschje zouden vlugten voor hunne woning, om zich\ndaarin te verbergen, en hierdoor onwillekeurig de plaats ontdekken, en\nde vervolgers uit dien hoofde, als zij hen najoegen, insgelijks. Hierop\nbesloten zij gewapend binnen den muur te blijven, en als er een het\nboschje indrong, dien zoo mogelijk te dooden, ten einde niemand zou\nterugkeeren om het bekend te maken. Zij gelastten ook dit te doen met\nde sabels of geweerkolven, en niet op hen te schieten, uit vrees dat het\nschot de aandacht mogt trekken der overigen.\nGelijk zij verwachtten, zoo gebeurde het; drie man van de verslagen\ntroep namen de vlugt, staken de kreek over en liepen regt op hunne\nwoning aan, om zich in het boschje te verbergen. De verspieder, die\nbuiten stond, gaf hun hiervan kennis, tevens met het aangename berigt,\ndat de overwinnaars hen niet vervolgden, en niet gezien hadden waarheen\nzij gevlugt waren. Hierop wilde de Spaansche gouverneur, een zeer\nmenschlievend man, niet toelaten, dat de drie vlugtelingen gedood\nwerden, maar drie man achter den heuvel omzendende, gelastte hij hun hen\nachterop te gaan en gevangen te nemen, gelijk ook geschiedde. Het\noverschot der overwonnenen vlugtte naar hunne kanoes en stak in zee; de\noverwinnaars trokken terug en vervolgden hen weinig of niet, maar gingen\nbijeenstaan en hieven tweemaal een luid geschreeuw aan, waardoor zij\nnaar het scheen victorie riepen, en hiermede was het gevecht ge\u00ebindigd.\nDenzelfden dag, des namiddags te drie uren, begaven zij zich ook in\nhunne kanoes. Aldus zagen de Spanjaards hun eiland weder van hen\nbevrijd; hun angst was voorbij, en verscheidene jaren achtereen vernamen\nzij niets van de wilden.\nNadat allen vertrokken waren, kwamen de Spanjaarden uit hunnen\nschuilhoek, en de plaats van het gevecht overziende, vonden zij daar\ntwee\u00ebndertig dooden liggen, sommigen waren met groote, lange pijlen\ngedood, waarvan verscheiden nog in hun ligchaam staken, maar de meesten\nwaren afgemaakt met die groote houten zwaarden, waarvan zij nog zestien\nof zeventien op de plek vonden, en even veel bogen en eene menigte\npijlen. Deze zwaarden waren groote, onbehouwen dingen, en men moest zeer\nveel kracht hebben om ze te kunnen zwaaijen. De meesten hadden dan ook\nhet hoofd verbrijzeld en verscheidene armen of beenen gebroken, zoodat\nhet bleek, dat zij met de uiterste verwoedheid gevochten hadden. Al die\nzij vonden waren dood, want of zij blijven bij hunnen vijand tot zij hem\ngeheel afgemaakt hebben, of zij nemen al hunne gekwetsten, als er nog\neenig leven in is, mede.\nDeze gebeurtenis bragt onze Engelschen voor eene poos tot bedaren, want\nhet gezigt van het gevecht had hen met afschuw vervuld, en deszelfs\nuitslag scheen allen allerverschrikkelijkst, vooral bij de bedenking,\ndat zij den een of anderen tijd in handen dier wezens konden vallen, die\nhen niet alleen als vijanden zouden dooden, maar hen slagten om hen op\nte eten, gelijk wij het vee doen. En zij verklaarden mij, dat het\ndenkbeeld, om als ossen- of schapenvleesch opgegeten te worden, schoon\nhet te verwachten was dat dit ook eerst na hunnen dood zou plaats\ngrijpen, hun zoo afschuwelijk voorkwam, dat zij er van walgden, en niet\nkonden eten, als zij er slechts aan dachten, zoodat het verscheidene\nweken duurde eer zij weder tot zichzelven kwamen. Gelijk ik zeide,\nmaakte dit zelfs de drie Engelschen eene geruime poos handelbaar; die al\ndien tijd zeer gezellig leefden en medewerkten; zij plantten, zaaiden,\noogstten, en begonnen zich aan het leven aldaar te gewennen; maar eene\npoos daarna gedroegen zij zich weder zoo, dat zij niet weinig onrust\nverwekten.\nZij hadden, gelijk ik gezegd heb, drie gevangenen gemaakt, en daar dit\njonge, sterke mannen waren, hadden zij hen tot dienstboden gemaakt, en\nlieten hen voor hen werken, hetgeen vrij wel ging. Zij behandelden hen\nechter niet, gelijk ik mijn Vrijdag, namelijk, dat zij hen eerst\nvoorstelden hoe zij hun het leven gered hadden; en hen dan onderrigtten\nin de eerste beginselen der wijsheid en godsdienst, hen beschavende, en\ndoor zachte taal en goede behandeling aan zich verbindende; maar gelijk\nzij hun iederen dag voedsel gaven, zoo gaven zij hun ook iederen dag\nwerk, en hielden hen daarmede genoeg bezig. Maar iets misten zij,\nnamelijk, dat zij hen zouden bijstaan en voor hen hun leven wagen,\ngelijk mijn Vrijdag, die niet minder aan mij verknocht was, dan mijn\nvleesch aan mijn gebeente.\nDoch om verder te gaan; daar nu allen goede vrienden waren (want het\nalgemeene gevaar had hen schielijk verzoend), begonnen zij over hunne\nomstandigheden te beraadslagen. Het eerst wat hun voor den geest kwam\nwas, dat daar zij zagen, dat de wilden bijzonder dat gedeelte van het\neiland bezochten, en er op hetzelve meer afgelegene en verborgen plekken\nwaren, die voor hunne manier van leven even geschikt waren, en zelfs\nblijkbaar voordeeliger gelegen, of zij niet liever van woning zouden\nveranderen, en eene andere plaats voor hunne plantaadje, en vooral ter\nbewaring van hun vee en graan, zouden kiezen. Na lange overwegingen\nbesloten zij echter hunne woning niet te verplaatsen, omdat zij den een\nof anderen tijd nog iets van hunnen gouverneur verwachtten te hooren,\nwaarmede zij mij bedoelden, en als ik iemand anders zou zenden om hen te\nzoeken, zou ik hem zeker dien kant aanduiden, en als deze daar de plaats\nvernield vond, zou hij besluiten, dat de wilden hen vermoord hadden, of\ndat zij vertrokken waren, en zoo zou hun onderstand hun niet toekomen.\nZij besloten echter hun graan en vee in het dal te brengen, waarin mijne\nspelonk was, waar het land voor weiland en bouwen even geschikt, en naar\nhet scheen in overvloed was. Bij nader overweging maakten zij in dit\nbesluit echter eenige verandering, namelijk een deel van hunne kudde\ndaarheen te voeren en een deel van hun graan daar te bouwen, en zoo een\ngedeelte te behouden, als het andere mogt vermeld worden. Aan eene daad\nvan voorzigtigheid deden zij ook zeer verstandig, namelijk, dat zij de\ndrie wilden, die zij gevangen hadden genomen, nimmer iets toevertrouwden\nvan de plantaadje of het vee, dat zij in het dal nahielden, veel minder\nvan de spelonk, die zij in geval van nood als eene veilige schuilplaats\nbeschouwden, en waarheen zij ook de twee vaatjes buskruid bragten, die\nik hun bij mijn vertrek toegezonden had.\nZij besloten hierom niet van woonplaats te veranderen, maar daar ik die\nzorgvuldig eerst met een muur en daarna door boomen verborgen had, en\nzij nu ten volle overtuigd waren, dat hunne veiligheid er geheel van\nafhing, dat niemand hen ontdekte, gingen zij aan het werk om die nog\nmeer te bedekken. Terwijl ik op een afstand van den ingang van mijn\nverblijf boomen had geplant, of liever stekken, die thans tot boomen\nopgeschoten waren, zoo gingen zij op gelijke wijze te werk en vulden het\noverige van die plek aan tot aan de zijde van de kreek, waar ik mijne\nvlotten aan wal bragt, ja zelfs tot in de bedding, die met hoogwater\nonder liep, en lieten er geene landingplaats of eenig spoor, dat die er\ngeweest was. Daar, gelijk ik vroeger zeide, deze stekken van zeer welig\ngroeijend hout waren, en zij veel grooter en zwaarder dan ik kozen en ze\nzeer digt bijeen plaatsten, was het na drie of vier jaren zoo digt\ngegroeid, dat men op geringen afstand niets van de plantaadje zien kon.\nDe door mij geplante boomen waren thans zoo dik, dat men ze niet met de\nhand omspannen kon, en daar tusschen hadden zij jong hout geplant,\nzoodat het een paalwerk was geworden, dat ondoordringbaar was, behalve\nvoor een leger, sterk genoeg om het geheel te doen vallen. Het was zoo\ndigt, dat een hond er niet door had kunnen dringen.\nDoch dit was hun niet genoeg, zij deden hetzelfde rondom den geheelen\nheuvel, en lieten geen anderen uitgang open dan langs de ladder, die\ntegen den heuvel geplaatst, halverwege opgehaald en waarmede dan de top\nbeklommen moest worden. Als dus de ladder weggehaald was, kon niemand\nbij hen komen, die niet vliegen of tooveren kon. Dit was zeer goed\nbedacht, en kwam hun naderhand zeer te pas; een bewijs voor mij, dat de\nVoorzienigheid der menschen raadslagen bestuurt, en zoo wij oplettender\nnaar hare stem luisterden, houd ik mij overtuigd, dat wij vele\nongevallen zouden voorkomen, waaraan onze achteloosheid ons thans\nblootstelt. Doch ik keer tot mijn verhaal terug.\nZij leefden vervolgens twee jaren volkomen rustig en zonder bezoek van\nwilden. Op een ochtend hadden zij echter een valsch alarm, dat hun\ngrooten schrik aanjoeg; want eenige Spanjaarden, die vroeg in den morgen\nuitgegaan waren, aan de westzijde van het eiland, waar ik nimmer ging,\nuit vrees van ontdekt te worden, zagen met verbazing ongeveer twintig\nkanoes met Indianen, die op het strand aanhielden. Zij haastten zich\nnaar huis om hunne makkers te waarschuwen, en bleven dien geheelen dag\nen den volgenden in huis, en gingen alleen des nachts op verkenning uit.\nZij kwamen ditmaal echter met den schrik vrij; want waar de wilden ook\ngingen, zij landden niet op het eiland.\nDaarna hadden zij weder oneenigheid met de drie Engelschen. Een dezer,\neen alleronrustigste kerel, werd woedend, omdat een van de drie slaven,\ndie zij, gelijk ik verhaald heb, bezaten, iets niet goed deed, wat hij\nhem belastte, en deze welligt niet begreep. Hij haalde een bijl uit zijn\ngordel, die hij bij zich droeg en viel op den armen wilde aan, niet om\nhem te bestraffen, maar om hem dood te slaan. Een van de Spanjaards, die\ndaar in de nabijheid was, en zag hoe hij den wilde een onmenschelijke\nhouw met de bijl toebragt, die op het hoofd gemikt was, maar hem in den\narm trof, zoodat hij meende dat zijn arm afgehouwen was, liep naar hem\ntoe, verzocht hem den armen man niet te vermoorden, en trad tusschen hem\nen den wilde, om verdere mishandelingen te voorkomen. De kerel, hierdoor\nnog woedender geworden, deed eene houw naar den Spanjaard, en zwoer hem\nzoo wel als den wilde te zullen doodslaan. De Spanjaard ontweek den\nslag, en velde den aanvaller neder met eene spade, die hij in de hand\nhad, want hij was op het veld aan het werk. Een ander Engelschman schoot\nzijn makker te hulp, en deed den Spanjaard nederstorten, en toen kwamen\nweder twee Spanjaarden hunnen landgenoot te hulp, terwijl de derde\nEngelschman hen aanviel. Zij hadden geen van allen geweren of andere\nwapens dan hunne gereedschappen bij zich, behalve de derde Engelschman,\ndie eene oude roestige sabel droeg, waarmede hij de beide Spanjaarden\nwondde. Dit gevecht bragt de geheele bevolking op de been, en toen er\nmeer hulp gekomen was namen zij de drie Engelschen gevangen. De eerste\nvraag was thans wat met hen te doen. Zij waren zoo dikwijls oproerig\ngeweest, en zoo kwaadaardig, vermetel en tot leegloopen geneigd, dat zij\nniet wisten wat met hen te beginnen, want het was gevaarlijk met hen om\nte gaan, zij bekreunden er zich niet aan hoe zij iemand aanvielen,\nzoodat het niet veilig was met hen te leven.\nDe Spanjaard gouverneur hield hun dit alles voor, en zeide ronduit, dat,\nzoo zij zijne landslieden waren, hij hen allen zou laten ophangen; want\nalle wetten en alle regeerders zijn tot de veiligheid der maatschappij,\nen degenen, die voor dezelve gevaarlijk zijn, behooren daaruit geweerd\nte worden; maar, daar zij Engelschen waren en zij aan de edelmoedigheid\nvan een Engelschman allen hun tegenwoordig behoud en hunne bevrijding te\ndanken hadden, wilde hij zoo zacht mogelijk jegens hen te werk gaan en\nhen aan het oordeel van de twee andere Engelschen, hunne landslieden,\noverlaten.\nEen van de twee eerlijke Engelschen stond op en zeide, dat zij\nverzochten hiervan ontslagen te zijn. \"Want,\" zeide hij, \"naar mijne\novertuiging zouden wij hen tot de galg moeten verwijzen.\" Hierop\nverhaalde hij hoe Willem Atkins, een van de drie, voorgeslagen had, dat\nal de vijf Engelschen zich vereenigen zouden, om al de Spanjaards in\nhunnen slaap om te brengen. Toen de Spaansche gouverneur dit hoorde,\nvroeg hij aan Atkins: \"Hoe, sennor Atkins, zoudt gij ons allen willen\nvermoorden? Wat hebt gij daarop aan te merken?\" De verharde schurk wel\nverre van het te ontkennen, zeide, dat het de waarheid was, en voegde\ner met afgrijsselijke vloeken bij, dat hij het nog doen zou, den een of\nander tijd. \"Maar sennor Atkins,\" vervolgde de Spanjaard, \"wat hebben\nwij u gedaan, dat gij ons zoudt willen vermoorden? en wat zoudt gij\nwinnen door ons te vermoorden? en wat moeten wij doen om u te beletten,\ndat gij ons vermoordt? Moeten wij u dooden of door u vermoord worden?\nWaarom wilt gij ons noodzaken een van beide te kiezen?\" vervolgde de\nSpanjaard zeer bedaard en glimlagchende.\nSennor Atkins werd echter zoo woedend, dat de Spanjaard er nog mede\nspotte, dat men meende, dat zoo hij niet ongewapend geweest en door drie\nman vastgehouden was, hij beproefd zou hebben den Spanjaard in aller\nbijzijn te vermoorden. Dit uitsporig gedrag noodzaakte hen ernstig na te\ndenken wat hun te doen stond. De twee Engelschen en de Spanjaard, die\nden armen slaaf gered hadden, waren van oordeel, dat zij een van de\ndrie, tot een voorbeeld voor de overigen, moesten ophangen, met name\nhij, die tweemaal met zijne bijl een moord had willen begaan, en\nmisschien er een begaan had, want de arme wilde was in zulk een\ngevaarlijken toestand, dat men niet dacht, dat hij er van zou opkomen.\nDoch de Spaansche gouverneur zeide nogmaals neen. Een Engelschman had\nhun allen het leven gered, en nimmer zou hij er in toestemmen een\nEngelschman het leven te benemen, al had hij de helft van hen vermoord,\nja, hij zeide, al werd hij zelf door een Engelschman vermoord, en hij\nkon nog slechts eenige woorden spreken, zouden deze zijn, dat men hem\nvergiffenis moest schenken. Hierop stond hij zoo bepaald, dat er niet\ntegen in te brengen viel, en gelijk een raad tot genade gewoonlijk de\noverhand behoudt als hij ernstig aangedrongen wordt, stemden zij allen\ner in toe. Maar nu moest men bedenken hoe men hen zou beletten hun\nvoorgenomen misdadig opzet te volvoeren, want allen, ook de gouverneur,\nkwamen hierin overeen, dat zij voor gevaar van hunnen kant moesten\nbeveiligd worden. Na eenige beraadslagingen kwam men overeen,\neerstelijk, dat zij ontwapend en hun noch geweer noch sabel, kruid noch\nlood, noch eenig wapen toegestaan zou worden, en dat zij uit het\ngezelschap verjaagd zouden worden, en op zichzelven, waar en hoedanig\nzij konden, zouden leven; maar dat geen der overigen, hetzij Spanjaarden\nof Engelschen, met hen omgaan, hen toespreken, of iets met hen\nuitstaande zou hebben; dat het hun verboden zou worden binnen een\nzekeren afstand te komen van de plaats, waar de overigen woonden; en dat\nzoo zij eenige wanorde pleegden, als rooven, branden, of iets van de\nveldvruchten, gebouwen, heiningen of vee, vernielen of dooden mogten,\nzij zonder genade zouden sterven, en men hen zou doodschieten, waar men\nhen aantrof.\nDe gouverneur, een allermenschlievendst man, overdacht dit vonnis eene\npoos, en keerde zich daarop tot de twee eerlijke Engelschen, zeggende:\n\"Gij moet echter bedenken, dat het lang duren zal eer zij zelf graan\ngeoogst of vee gefokt hebben, en zij moeten niet van honger omkomen;\nwij moeten hun dus voorraad geven.\" Hij zorgde daarop, dat hun\ngenoegzaam graan verstrekt werd voor acht maanden en om te zaaijen;\nbinnen welken tijd zij eenig graan zelf konden telen; tevens zouden zij\nontvangen zes melkgeiten, vier bokken en zes jonge geitjes, zoowel ter\naanfokking als om van te leven; en men hun werktuigen geven om den\nveldarbeid te verrigten, en zes bijlen, een boor, een zaag en\ndergelijke; maar deze werktuigen zouden zij niet verkrijgen zonder\nvooraf plegtig te zweren, dat zij met dezelve geen der Spanjaarden of\nhunne landslieden eenig kwaad zouden doen.\nAldus werden zij uit de maatschappij gezet, om voor zichzelve te zorgen.\nZij vertrokken norsch en met weerzin; want zij wilden noch blijven, noch\nheengaan, maar daar hier geen tusschenweg was, vertrokken zij, zeggende,\ndat zij eene plek gingen zoeken, waar zij op zichzelven konden wonen en\nwerken; eenige levensmiddelen werden hun medegegeven, maar geen wapens.\nVier of vijf dagen later kwamen zij terug om eenige levensmiddelen te\nhalen, en den gouverneur te zeggen waar zij hunne tenten opgeslagen en\neene plek gronds afgestoken hadden om hutten te bouwen en eene\nplantaadje aan te leggen. Het was inderdaad eene zeer geschikte plek,\naan het N. O. einde van het eiland, ongeveer op de plek, waar ik\ngelukkig belandde op mijne eerste reis, toen ik naar zee gedreven was,\nin mijne dwaze onderneming om het eiland rond te varen. Hier bouwden zij\ntwee knappe hutten, in den smaak van mijne eerste woning, tegen de\nhelling van een heuvel, waar eenige boomen reeds aan drie kanten\nstonden, zoodat de plek, door er eenige bij te planten, spoedig, zonder\nscherp nazoeken, niet meer te vinden zou zijn. Zij verzochten om eenige\ngedroogde geitenvellen om op te slapen en zich mede te dekken, die hun\ngegeven werden, en nadat zij beloofd hadden geen kwaad te doen aan de\noverigen of hunne plantaadjen, gaf men hun bijlen en ander gereedschap,\nzooveel men missen kon, eenige erwten, graan en rijst om te zaaijen, en\nkortom alles wat zij noodig hadden, behalve wapens en kruid en lood.\nAldus afgescheiden leefden zij ongeveer zes maanden, en hadden hunnen\neersten oogst binnengehaald, schoon die weinig was, daar zij slechts\neen klein stuk gronds bebouwd hadden. Zij hadden ook, daar zij de\ngeheele plantaadje eerst moesten aanleggen, volop werk, en toen zij\nplanken en potten en dergelijke zouden maken, konden zij het in het\ngeheel niet klaren, en toen het regensaizoen kwam, liep al hun graan\ngevaar van te verrotten, omdat zij geen kelder hadden, om het in droog\nte houden. Dit maakte hen wat gedwee\u00ebr; dus kwamen zij de Spanjaards\nsmeeken hen te helpen, hetgeen deze gewillig deden, en in vier dagen\nvoor hen eene groote spelonk delfden, in de zijde van de heuvel, groot\ngenoeg om hun koorn en andere goederen in te bewaren. Het was echter\nslechts een gebrekkige bergplaats, vergeleken bij mijn kelder, vooral\nzoo als die nu was, want de Spanjaarden hadden dien veel vergroot en er\nverscheidene nieuwe vertrekken bij gemaakt.\nOngeveer drie vierendeel jaars hierna, haalden de drie schelmen zich\nweder iets anders in het hoofd, dat met de vroegere schurkerij, door hen\nbegaan, hun onheil genoeg berokkende, en bijkans den geheelen ondergang\nder kolonie bewerkt had. Onze drie knapen begon het werkzame leven, dat\nzij, en dat zonder hoop op verbetering in hunne omstandigheden, leidden,\nnaar het schijnt, te vervelen; en zij vatten het plan op om een reis te\nmaken naar het vasteland, vanwaar de wilden kwamen, om te zien of zij\ndaar onder de inboorlingen niet eenige gevangenen konden maken en naar\nhuis brengen, ten einde deze het zwaarste werk voor hen verrigtten.\nDit ontwerp was niet zoo kwaad overlegd, maar deze kerels deden niets\nzonder daarbij kwaad te bedoelen; als ik mijn gevoelen zeggen mag,\nschenen zij onder 's Hemels vloek te liggen. Het was gewis een blijkbare\nstraf voor hunne moordzucht en muiterij, die hen in hunnen toestand\nbragt, en daar zij niet de minste wroeging betoonden, maar er nieuwe\nsnoodheden bijvoegden, zoo als het kwetsen van een armen slaaf, omdat\nhij niet begreep, of misschien niet verstond wat hem gelast werd, en wel\nzoodanig, dat hij al zijn leven verminkt bleef, en dat in eene plaats,\nwaar geen geneeskundige hulp te vinden was; en wat nog het ergste was,\nhet moorddadig opzet, of beter gezegd, den voorgenomen moord, gelijk\nhet was, zoowel als hun openlijk erkend voornemen, om al de Spanjaards\nin koele bloede te vermoorden als zij in slaap waren. Doch ik keer tot\nmijn verhaal terug.\nDe drie kerels kwamen op een morgen naar de Spanjaards toe, en\nverzochten zeer gedwee hen eens te mogen spreken. De Spanjaards waren\nbereid te hooren wat zij te zeggen hadden, hetgeen hierop neerkwam.\nLanger zoo te leven, verveelde hen. Zij waren niet vlug genoeg om te\nmaken wat zij noodig hadden, en zagen wel in, dat zij zonder hulp van\ngebrek zouden omkomen, maar zoo de Spanjaards hun een van de kanoes\nwilden geven, waarmede zij op het eiland gekomen waren, en genoegzame\nwapens en kruid en lood, om zich te verdedigen, zouden zij naar het\nvasteland oversteken en hunne fortuin zoeken, en hen zoo van den last\nbevrijden, hun van meer voorraad te voorzien.\nDe Spanjaarden waren wel blijde, dat zij van hen ontslagen zouden raken,\nmaar stelden hun toch eerlijk voor hoe zij zeker hun verderf in den mond\nliepen, en zeiden, dat zij daar zooveel ongemakken hadden moeten\nverduren, dat zij, zonder profeten te zijn, hen konden voorspellen te\nverhongeren of vermoord te zullen worden, en verzochten hen hierover na\nte denken.\nZij antwoordden vrij norsch, dat zij zeker verhongeren zouden als zij op\nhet eiland bleven, want zij konden niet werken en wilden niet werken;\ndus mogt het even zoo goed elders gebeuren; wierden zij vermoord dan was\nhet met hen gedaan; vrouwen noch kinderen zouden hen beweenen; kortom,\nzij drongen er sterk op aan, en verklaarden, dat zij vertrekken zouden,\nhetzij men hun wapens wilde geven of niet. De Spanjaards zeiden daarop\nzeer goedhartig, dat als zij volstrekt gaan wilden, zij niet naakt en\nbloot en zonder verdedingsmiddelen behoefden te gaan, en hoewel zij\nslecht hunne vuurwapens konden missen, daar zij zelfs voor zich niet\ngenoeg hadden, zouden zij hun twee geweren, eene pistool, eene sabel en\ndrie bijlen medegeven, waaraan zij huns oordeels genoeg hadden.\nZij namen dit aanbod aan, en nadat men hen voor eene maand van brood\nvoorzien had, en van zooveel geitenvleesch als zij konden eten, zoo lang\nhet goed bleef; een groote mand vol rozijnen, een jonge geit om te\nslagten en een groote pot met zoet water, ondernamen zij moedig in hunne\nkanoe de reis over zee, waar die ten minste veertig (Eng.) mijlen breed\nwas. De boot was zeker groot en had zeer goed vijftien of twintig man\nkunnen bevatten, en dus zwaar genoeg voor hen om te besturen; maar daar\nde wind en het getij hun gunstig was, ging het zeer goed. Zij hadden van\neen langen staak een mast gemaakt en een zeil van vier groote gedroogde\ngeitenvellen, dat hen snel genoeg deed voortuitgaan. De Spanjaards\nriepen hun achterna: _Buen viago_, en niemand dacht, dat hij hen ooit\nweder zou zien.\nDikwijls zeiden de Spanjaarden tegen elkander en de twee achtergebleven\neerlijke Engelschen: hoe rustig en genoegelijk leven wij thans, nu die\ndrie onruststokers weg zijn. Dat zij ooit weder zouden komen, daaraan\ndachten zij het minst, doch twintig dagen na hun vertrek zag een der\nEngelschen, die op het veld arbeidde, in de verte drie vreemde gestalten\nnaar zich toekomen, waarvan twee geweren op den schouder hadden. Weg\nliep de Engelschman alsof hij dol was, en kwam geheel ontzet bij den\nSpaanschen gouverneur, zeggende, dat zij verloren waren, want er waren\nvreemdelingen op het eiland, hij wist niet wie. Na eenig nadenken zeide\nde Spanjaard: \"Wat meent gij, dat gij niet weet wie. Het zijn toch zeker\nwilden?\"--\"Neen, neen,\" zeide de ander, \"zij hebben kleederen en\nwapens.\"--\"Welnu,\" zeide de Spanjaard, \"waarvoor vreest gij dan? Zijn\nhet geen wilden, dan zijn het vrienden, want geen Christennatie op de\nwereld is er, die ons anders dan goed zou doen.\"\nTerwijl zij spraken kwamen de drie Engelschen nader, en het bosch voor\nde woning intredende, riepen zij hun toe. Zij herkenden de stemmen en\nalle verwondering van dien aard hield dus op. Maar nu waren zij over\niets anders verwonderd, namelijk hoe het kwam, dat men hen terugzag.\nWeldra waren zij aangekomen, en op de vraag, waar zij geweest waren, en\nwat zij uitgerigt hadden, verhaalden zij in korte woorden hunne geheele\nreis, namelijk, hoe zij in minder dan twee dagen het land ontdekt\nhadden, doch bij hunne nadering het volk op de been en gereed vindende\nhen met boog en pijl te bevechten, durfden zij niet aan wal gaan, maar\nzeilden zes of zeven uren noordwaarts, tot zij aan eene groote opening\nkwamen, waaraan zij bespeurden, dat het land, dat zij van ons eiland\ngezien hadden, niet het vasteland, maar ook een eiland was. In de\nopening gekomen, zagen zij een ander eiland regts van hen, in het\nnoorden, en nog verscheidene in het westen. Besloten hebbende ergers te\nlanden, hielden zij op een der westelijke eilanden aan, en stapten\nmoedig aan wal. Zij vonden het volk vriendschappelijk; men gaf hun\nverscheidene wortelen en gedroogden visch, en ontving hen zeer\nwelwillend, zoo wel vrouwen als mannen voorzagen hen vlijtig van\nlevensmiddelen, en bragten die een groot eind weegs ver, op het hoofd.\nZij bleven daar vier dagen, en vroegen door teekens, zoo goed zij\nkonden, wat slag van volk elders op de eilanden woonde. Men gaf hun te\nkennen, dat overal woest en kwaad volk woonde, dat menscheneters waren;\nzij echter aten nimmer menschenvleesch, behalve van in den oorlog\ngemaakte gevangenen, dan hielden zij van deze een groot gastmaal. De\nEngelschen vroegen wanneer zij zulk een feestmaal zouden houden, en zij\nantwoordden, twee manen later, door op de maan te wijzen en dan twee\nvingers op te steken; en dat hun groote koning thans tweehonderd\ngevangenen gemaakt had, en dat zij die vet maakten voor het volgende\nfeest. De Engelschen schenen zeer verlangend om deze gevangenen te zien,\nmaar de wilden begrepen hunne meening verkeerd, en dachten, dat zij\neenigen van hen verlangden om zelf op te eten. Zij wezen dus eerst naar\nde ondergaande en dan naar de opgaande zon, om te beduiden, dat zij den\nvolgenden morgen met zonsopgang hun eenigen zouden brengen, en den\nvolgenden morgen kwamen zij met vijf vrouwen en elf mannen aan, en gaven\ndie aan de Engelschen om op reis mede te nemen, even als wij in een\nzeehaven ossen en koeijen zouden brengen om een schip te provianderen.\nHoe ruw en woest de Engelschen ook waren, maakte dit gezigt toch diepen\nindruk op hen, en zij wisten niet wat zij zouden doen; de gevangenen te\nweigeren, ware de grofste beleediging geweest, die zij den wilden hadden\nkunnen aandoen, en wat zij er mede beginnen zouden wisten zij niet. Zij\nbesloten echter, na eenig beraad, hen aan te nemen, en gaven wederkeerig\naan de wilden, die hen gebragt hadden, een hunner bijlen, een ouden\nsleutel, een mes en zes of zeven kogels, welke laatsten hen bijzonder\nschenen te bevallen, schoon zij er niets mede konden doen. Daarop werden\nde arme gevangenen gebonden en door de wilden in de boot gebragt.\nDe Engelschen waren verpligt zoo spoedig mogelijk te vertrekken, anders\nzouden de gevers van dit geschenk zeker verwacht hebben, dat zij er den\nvolgenden morgen een paar van geslagt en misschien de gevers ten\nmaaltijd er op genoodigd hadden. Zij namen dus afscheid met alle\nvriendschapsbetuigingen, die mogelijk waren tusschen menschen, waarvan\nde een geen woord verstond wat de ander zeide, staken van wal en kwamen\nterug naar het eerste eiland, waar zij aan wal stapten en acht der\ngevangenen in vrijheid stelden, daar zij er te veel hadden. Onder weg\ntrachtten zij met hunne gevangenen te spreken, maar zij konden hun niets\naan het verstand brengen; wat zij ook zeiden, of deden of gaven, uit\nalles begrepen zij, dat hun oogmerk was hen te vermoorden. Eerst maakten\nzij hen los, maar zij gilden hierbij verschrikkelijk, vooral de vrouwen,\nalsof zij het mes reeds in hunne keel gevoelden, want zij besloten\ndadelijk, dat hunne banden alleen losgesneden werden om hen ter dood te\nbrengen. Gaven zij hun iets te eten, het was even zoo, dat begrepen zij\nwas uit vrees, dat zij vermageren zouden en niet vet genoeg worden om\ngeslagt te worden. Zagen zij een hunner slechts aan, zij begrepen\ndadelijk, dat het was om te zien of hij de vetste of beste was om te\nslagten, ja, nadat zij hen overgevoerd hadden, en goed behandelden,\nverwachtten zij nog elk oogenblik, dat zij tot voedsel voor hunne nieuwe\nmeesters moesten strekken.\nNadat de drie zwervers dit verhaal hunner lotgevallen gedaan hadden,\nvroegen de Spanjaarden, waar de wilden waren, die zij medegebragt\nhadden, en vernemende, dat zij die aan wal en in een hunner hutten\ngebragt hadden, en eenige levensmiddelen voor hen kwamen vragen, begaven\nde Spanjaarden en Engelschen, dat wil zeggen de geheele kolonie, zich\nderwaarts om hen te zien, en Vrijdags vader ging mede. In de hut\ngekomen, vonden zij hen allen gebonden zitten; want toen zij hen aan wal\ngebragt hadden, hadden zij hen gebonden, opdat zij niet met de boot\nzouden ontsnappen; dus zaten zij daar, allen geheel naakt. Eerstelijk\ndrie mannen, kloeke, welgebouwde kerels, van dertig of vijfendertig jaar\noud, en vijf vrouwen, waarvan twee tusschen de dertig en veertig, en\ntwee vier of vijfentwintig jaar oud konden zijn; de vijfde was een rank,\nwelgemaakt meisje van zestien of zeventien jaar. De vrouwen zagen er in\nvorm en trekken niet kwaad uit, buiten hare bruine kleur, en twee van\nhaar zouden, als zij blank geweest waren, zelfs in Engeland voor\nschoonheden zijn doorgegaan, daar zij een zeer bevallig gelaat en zedig\nvoorkomen hadden, vooral toen zij later gekleed en opgeschikt waren,\ngelijk zij het noemden, schoon haar opschik waarlijk weinig beteekende,\ndoch hierover nader.\nDit gezigt was eenigzins stuitend voor de Spanjaards, die, om hun regt\nte doen wedervaren, mannen van het braafste gedrag en van het\nbezadigdste gemoed, en in het bezit van de volmaaktste opgeruimdheid\nwaren, die ik ooit ontmoet heb, en vooral waren zij allerzedigst van\naard, gelijk blijken zal. Het was voor hen een stuitend gezigt, zeg ik,\ndrie mannen en vijf vrouwen, geheel naakt, gebonden, en in den\njammerlijksten toestand, waarin een menschelijk wezen vervallen kan, te\nzien, namelijk van elk oogenblik te verwachten als gemeste kalveren naar\nbuiten gesleept, den hals afgesneden en opgegeten te worden. Zij zeiden\ndus tot den ouden Indiaan, Vrijdags vader, dat hij naar binnen zou gaan,\nen eerst zien of hij een hunner kende, en vervolgens of hij hen verstaan\nkon. Zoodra de oude man inkwam, beschouwde hij hen een voor een, maar\nkende hen niet, ook kon hij zich door woorden, noch door teekens aan hen\ndoen verstaan, behalve aan eene vrouw. Dit was echter voldoende, om hen\nte berigten, dat de lieden, in wier handen zij gevallen waren,\nChristenen waren; dat deze het eten van menschenvleesch verfoeiden, en\nzij er op rekenen konden niet gedood te zullen worden. Zoodra zij\nhiervan verzekerd waren, legden zij zoo veel vreugde aan den dag, en op\nzulke vreemde en zonderlinge wijzen, dat het niet te beschrijven was,\nwant zij waren, naar het schijnt, van verschillende nati\u00ebn.\nDaarop werd de vrouw, die tot tolk diende, gelast hen te vragen, of zij\nals dienstboden wilden werken voor de lieden, die hen medegebragt hadden\nom hun het leven te redden. Allen begonnen te dansen van blijdschap, en\ndaarop nam de een dit, de ander dat op, wat voor de hand lag, en droeg\nhet op de schouders, om te kennen te geven, dat zij wel wilden werken.\nDe gouverneur, die begreep, dat het verblijf van vrouwen onder hen\nsomwijlen tot onaangenaamheden, en misschien tot twist en bloedstorting\naanleiding zou kunnen geven, vroeg aan de drie mannen, wat zij met deze\nvrouwen voor hadden, en hoe zij haar wilden beschouwen, als dienstboden\nof als huisvrouwen. \"Als beide,\" antwoordde een der Engelschen dadelijk.\nDe gouverneur antwoordde: \"Daarin wil ik u niet tegengaan; gij zijt de\nmeester daaromtrent te handelen zoo als gij wilt; maar ik acht het\nbillijk om twist en tweedragt tusschen u te vermijden, en ik verlang het\nalleen om die reden, dat zoo iemand uwer een dezer vrouwen tot zijne\nhuisvrouw neemt, hij er slechts eene zal nemen, en dat, schoon wij u\nniet in den echt kunnen verbinden, zij echter als uwe wettige vrouw\nbeschouwd wordt, zoo lang gij op dit eiland blijft althans.\" Allen\nachtten dit zoo billijk, dat zij er zonder aarzelen in toestemden.\nDaarop vroegen de Engelschen of de Spanjaarden ook eenige wilden nemen,\ndoch allen zeiden neen. Sommigen zeiden, dat zij in Spanje vrouwen\nhadden, anderen, dat zij geene Heidin tot vrouw begeerden, en allen\nverklaarden, dat zij er niets mede wilden uitstaan hebben; waarlijk, een\nvoorbeeld van deugd, zoo als ik op al mijne reizen niet meer ontmoet\nheb. Aan den anderen kant nam ieder der vijf Engelschen eene vrouw, en\nzoo begonnen zij eene nieuwe levenswijze, want de Spanjaarden en\nVrijdags vader bleven mijn oud verblijf bewonen, dat zij van binnen\naanmerkelijk vergroot hadden; de drie slaven, die zij in het gevecht der\nwilden hadden gevangen genomen, woonden bij hen; en zij verzorgden de\ngeheele kolonie bijkans, daar zij de overigen met levensmiddelen en\nbijstand, waar dit noodig was, ondersteunden.\nMaar het zonderlingste was hoe vijf zulke onrustige en onhandelbare\nkerels het schikten omtrent de vrouwen, en dat twee van hen niet\ndezelfde vrouw verkozen, vooral daar twee of drie van haar\nontegenzeggelijk veel fraaijer dan de andere waren. Doch zij namen een\ngoed middel te baat, om daaromtrent allen twist te voorkomen; want zij\nplaatsten de vijf vrouwen in eene hut, en gingen allen in eene andere\nhut, en toen lootten zij wie het eerst kiezen zou. Degeen, wien dit te\nbeurt viel, ging alleen naar de hut, waar de arme naakte schepsels\nwaren, en koos daar eene uit. Het was echter opmerkelijk, dat hij, die\nhet eerst kiezen mogt, degeen nam, die men voor de leelijkste en oudste\nvan de vijf hield, hetgeen de anderen niet weinig vermaakten, en zelfs\nde Spanjaards schaterden van lagchen. Maar de man had beter dan zij\nbedacht, dat vlijt en werkzaamheid hen het meest baatten, en zij was,\nwat dat betreft, de beste vrouw van allen.\nToen de arme vrouwen zagen, dat zij zoo op eene rij gesteld en een voor\neen uit de hut gehaald werden, nam de angst bij haar weder de overhand,\nen zij geloofden met zekerheid, dat zij thans geslagt zouden worden.\nToen dus de Engelsche matroos inkwam en eene van haar medenam, begonnen\nallen jammerlijk te krijten, en namen van haar een zoo droevig afscheid,\ndat de hardvochtigste mensch er door had moeten getroffen worden; ook\nkonden de Engelschen haar niet beduiden, dat zij niet dadelijk vermoord\nzouden worden, voor zij Vrijdags vader in de hut hadden gezonden, die\nhaar te kennen gaf, dat de vijf lieden, die haar een voor een uit de hut\ngehaald hadden, haar tot vrouw namen. Toen dit afgeloopen en de angst\nder vrouwen wat bedaard was, gingen hare mannen aan het werk en de\nSpanjaarden kwamen om hen te helpen, en binnen weinige uren hadden zij\nvoor ieder eene nieuwe hut of tent opgeslagen om afzonderlijk te\nbewonen, want degenen, die zij hadden, waren reeds vol met hunne\ngereedschappen, huisraad en levensmiddelen. De drie slechte Engelschen\nhadden zich verst af, en de twee goede digter bij, doch beide aan de\nnoordzijde des eilands nedergezet, zoo dat zij als te voren gescheiden\nwaren. Aldus was mijn eiland op drie plaatsen bevolkt en kon men zeggen,\ndat er drie dorpen op ontstaan waren.\nNu verdient het wel hier vermeld te worden, dat, gelijk het dikwijls in\nde wereld gebeurt (zonder dat ik zeggen kan waarom de Goddelijke\nwijsheid het dus beschikt), dat de twee brave lieden de kwaadste wijven\nhadden, en dat de drie schurken, die naauwelijks een strop waard waren,\ndie alleen geboren schenen om zichzelven en anderen kwaad te doen, drie\nknappe, vlijtige, zorgvuldige, schrandere vrouwen hadden; niet dat de\ntwee andere boosaardig van karakter waren, want alle vijf waren zeer\nonderdanige, zachtaardige schepsels, veeleer slavinnen dan huisvrouwen;\nmaar zij waren niet even schrander, vlug van begrip of even zindelijk en\nnet.\nNog moet ik aanmerken tot eer der werkzaamheid, en schande van een\ntraag, achteloos en onverschillig karakter, dat toen ik op het eiland\nkwam en de verschillende bouwingen en verbeteringen der onderscheidene\nkleine kolonies naging, de twee Engelschen de andere drie zoo ver\nvooruit waren, dat het niet bij elkander te vergelijken was. Zij hadden\nwel beide even veel grond voor koorn ontgind als zij noodig hadden, want\nmijns inziens schreef de natuur voor niet meer graan te bouwen dan zij\nnoodig hadden, maar het onderscheid in de behandeling van het land, de\nomheiningen, kortom in alles viel bij den eersten opslag ieder in het\noog.\nDe twee Engelschen hadden om hunne hutten eene ontelbare menigte jonge\nboompjes gezet, zoodat men, daar komende, niets dan een bosch zag, en\nschoon hunne plantaadje tweemaal vernield was, eens door hunne\nlandslieden en eens door de wilden, gelijk wij later zullen hooren, was\nalles weder in een bloeijenden toestand; zij hadden wijngaarden geplant\nen geleid, schoon zij nimmer te voren die gezien hadden, en hunne\ndruiven waren uitstekend. Zij hadden ook in het digtste van het bosch\neene schuilplaats gemaakt, en schoon daar geen natuurlijke spelonk was,\nhadden zij er met ontzettenden arbeid eene gemaakt, waar, toen het\neiland in onrust was, hunne vrouwen en kinderen eenige veilige\nschuilplaats vonden; zij hadden door ontelbare stekken en takken te\nplanten van een hout, dat, gelijk ik zeide, zoo welig groeide, een\nondoordringbaar bosch gemaakt, behalve op eene plaats, waar zij aan de\nbuitenzijde konden overklimmen, en dan een hun bekend pad moesten\nvolgen.\nDe drie schurken, gelijk ik hen te regt noemde, schoon zij thans veel\nbeschaafder waren door hunne nieuwe huishouding, vergeleken bij vroeger,\nen niet meer zoo twistziek, omdat zij er niet zoo veel gelegenheid toe\nhadden; bleven toch altijd eene eigenschap van een bedorven karakter\nbehouden, namelijk hunne luiheid. Het is waar, zij bouwden graan en\nmaakten heiningen, maar nimmer werden Salomo's woorden meer bevestigd\ndan bij hen: \"ik ging den akker des luijaards voorbij en hij was vol\ndoornen,\" want toen de Spanjaarden naar hun graan kwamen zien, was het\nop verscheidene plaatsen door het onkruid verstikt, er waren\nonderscheidene gaten in de heining, waar de wilde geiten doorgedrongen\nen het graan afgegeten hadden. Hier en daar waren wel eenige dorre\ntakken gestoken om hen buiten te houden, maar dit was de put dempen toen\nhet kalf verdronken was. Op de plantaadje der anderen daarentegen scheen\nalles gezegend en voorspoedig te zijn, er was geen onkruid onder hun\ngraan, geen gat in hunne heining, en ook zij bevestigden, dat de hand\ndes vlijtigen rijk maakt. Want alles stond welig te groeijen, zij hadden\novervloed binnen en buiten 's huis, meer tam vee en meer gereedschappen\ndan de anderen, en toch meer genoegen en uitspanningen.\nWel waren de vrouwen der drie Engelschen binnen 's huis zeer handig en\nnet, en na van een der Engelschen, die, gelijk ik gezegd heb, koksmaat\nwas geweest, op de Engelsche wijze te hebben leeren koken, maakten zij\nzeer goed het eten voor hunne mannen gereed, hetgeen de beide anderen\nniet aan het verstand gebragt kon worden, doch hier deed de gewezen\nkoksmaat het zelf. De drie Engelschen echter zwierven rond om\nschildpadeijeren te zoeken, vogels te vangen, en te visschen; kortom,\nzij deden alles behalve werken, en het ging hun dan ook daarnaar. De\nvlijtigen leefden genoegelijk en in overvloed, en de tragen bekrompen en\nin armoede, gelijk het over het algemeen, geloof ik, de geheele wereld\ndoorgaat.\nMaar thans kom ik tot eene gebeurtenis, geheel verschillende van hetgeen\nhen of mij ooit gebeurd was, en de oorzaak hiervan was als volgt.\nOp een vroegen morgen kwamen vijf of zes kanoes met wilden aan land,\nongetwijfeld met het oude oogmerk van hunne gevangenen te verslinden.\nDoch de Spanjaarden waren thans met zulk een gebeurtenis zoo gemeenzaam\ngeworden, dat zij er zich niet zoo om bekommerden als ik; maar daar de\nervaring hun geleerd had, dat het alleen hunne zaak was verborgen te\nblijven, en dat de wilden, zoo zij slechts niets van hen bespeurden,\nstilletjes zouden vertrekken na hun oogmerk volvoerd te hebben, ik zeg,\ndit wetende, gaven zij slechts kennis hiervan aan al de bewoners, zich\nbinnen 's huis te houden, en plaatsen alleen een verspieder om hun te\nberigten als de booten weder in zee staken. Dit was ongetwijfeld zeer\nverstandig, maar een onvoorzien toeval verijdelde al hunne maatregelen,\nen maakten den wilden bekend, dat er bewoners op het eiland waren,\nhetwelk bijkans de geheele kolonie ten ondergang bragt. Nadat de kanoes\nmet de wilden vertrokken waren, kwamen de Spanjaards weder buiten, en de\nnieuwsgierigheid dreef sommigen aan naar de plaats te gaan, die zij\nverlaten hadden. Hier vonden zij, tot hunne groote verrassing, drie\nachtergebleven wilden, die gerust op den grond lagen te slapen;\nwaarschijnlijk waren zij, overladen na hun onmenschelijk feest, als\nbeesten in slaap gevallen, en hadden niet willen opstaan toen de anderen\nvertrokken, of zij hadden in het bosch gezworven en waren eerst\nteruggekomen toen hunne makkers reeds weg waren.\nDe Spanjaarden zagen vreemd op en wisten niet wat zij doen wilden. De\ngouverneur was bij hen en men vroeg zijn gevoelen, maar hij zeide het\nniet te weten, want slaven hadden zij genoeg, en om hen van kant te\nmaken, daar had niemand lust toe. Hij verhaalde mij naderhand, dat hij\ner niet aan had kunnen denken om onschuldig bloed te vergieten, want zij\nhadden noch hun zelven, noch hun eigendom eenig leed gedaan, en zij\nhadden dus geen regt hen van het leven te berooven.\nTer eere van deze Spanjaards moet ik hier aanmerken, dat hoe\nverschrikkelijk ook de verhalen der Spaansche gruwelen in Mexico en Peru\nzijn mogen, ik nimmer zeventien menschen bij eenige natie ontmoet heb,\ndie zoo algemeen zedig, matig, deugdzaam, opgeruimd en hoffelijk waren\nals deze Spanjaards; in hun geheele karakter lag geen zweem van\nwreedheid, of barbaarschheid, of woeste hartstogten, en toch waren het\nallen mannen van grooten moed en dapperheid. Hunne gematigdheid was\ngebleken in het verduren van de schandelijke bejegeningen der\nEngelschen, en hunne regtvaardigheid en menschelijkheid bleek in het\nhier vermelde geval met de wilden. Na eenig beraad besloten zij zich nog\neene poos verborgen te houden, tot zoo mogelijk deze drie lieden\nheengingen; maar toen herinnerden zij zich, dat zij geen vaartuig\nhadden, en dat, zoo zij het eiland rondzwierven, zij zeker ontdekken\nzouden, dat het bewoond was. Derhalve keerden zij terug waar de drie\nmannen lagen te slapen, en besloten hen te wekken en gevangen te maken,\ngelijk zij deden. De wilden waren uiterst bevreesd toen zij aangegrepen\nen gebonden werden, en bevreesd te zijn, dat zij geslagt en opgegeten\nzouden worden, want het schijnt dat deze lieden denken, dat men overal,\neven als zij, menschenvleesch eet; doch zij werden hieromtrent spoedig\ngerust gesteld en weggevoerd.\nHet was zeer gelukkig, dat zij hen niet naar het kasteel, ik meen naar\nmijne oude woning tegen den heuvel, bragten, maar naar mijn landhuis,\nwaar de meeste veldarbeid, als geiten hoeden, koorn bouwen, enz., te\nverrigten viel, en naderhand voerden zij hen naar de woning der twee\nEngelschen. Hier werden zij aan het werk gezet, schoon men weinig voor\nhen te doen had, en hetzij door achteloos opzigt over hen, of dat men\nmeende, dat zij hen niet konden ontvlugten, althans een hunner liep weg,\nen in het bosch gerakende, hoorde men nimmer meer van hem. Men begreep\nechter met reden, dat het hem kort daarop gelukte naar zijn land terug\nte keeren, met eenige wilden, die drie of vier weken later met hunne\nkanoes aan den wal kwamen, om hun gewoon feest te vieren, en binnen twee\ndagen vertrokken. Dit denkbeeld bekommerde hen niet weinig, want zij\nbegrepen niet zonder reden, dat zoo deze man weder behouden bij zijne\nlandgenooten kwam, hij hun zeker verhalen zou, dat er lieden op het\neiland waren, en tevens hoe weinig en zwak zij waren; want, gelijk ik\nzeide, men had dezen wilde, en dit was zeer gelukkig, nimmer gezegd hoe\nvelen er op het eiland waren of waar zij woonden, ook had hij nimmer een\ngeweer zien afschieten; veel minder had hij een hunner schuilplaatsen\nleeren kennen, zoo als de grot in het dal of de nieuwe spelonk, die de\ntwee Engelschen gemaakt hadden.\nHet eerste blijk, dat deze man zijn volk van hen kennis had gegeven,\nwas, dat ongeveer twee maanden daarna, zes kanoes, ieder met zeven, acht\ntot tien wilden er in, langs de noordzijde van het eiland kwamen\nroeijen, waar zij vroeger nimmer kwamen, en een uur na zonsopgang op\neene geschikte landingplaats aan wal stapten, een kwartier van de woning\nder twee Engelschen, waar de vlugteling geweest was. De Spaansche\ngouverneur zeide, dat zoo zij allen daar op de plek waren geweest, het\ngevaar zoo groot niet geweest zou zijn, want dan, zeide hij, zou geen\nenkele wilde het ontkomen zijn. Maar nu was de kans al te ongelijk; twee\nman tegen vijftig. Gelukkig hadden de beide mannen hen ontdekt, toen zij\nnog eene mijl ver in zee waren, dus ongeveer een uur voor zij landden,\nen daar zij een kwartier van hunne woningen aan wal stapten, duurde het\nnog eenigen tijd voor zij bij hen waren. Daar zij nu veel reden hadden\nzich verraden te achten, was het eerst wat zij deden, de twee\nachtergebleven slaven te binden, en hen door twee van de drie mannen,\ndie zij met hunne vrouwen medegebragt hadden, en hen, naar het schijnt,\nzeer getrouw waren, naar hunne schuilplaats in het bosch te doen\nbrengen, waarvan ik gesproken heb, met al wat zij verder konden\nmedevoeren, en daar lieten zij de twee slaven, aan handen en voeten\ngebonden, voor 's hands liggen.\nDaarop ziende, dat de wilden allen geland waren en regt naar hunnen kant\ntoekwamen, openden zij de heiningen, waarin de melkgeiten gehouden\nwerden, dreven haar allen naar buiten, en lieten ze los het bosch\ninloopen, om de wilden in den waan te brengen, dat het wilde geiten\nwaren; maar de Indiaan, die bij hen was, was te sluw en had hen, naar\nhet schijnt, van alles onderrigt, want zij gingen regt op hun verblijf\naan. Nadat de twee arme, verschrikte Engelschen hunne vrouwen en\ngoederen in veiligheid gebragt hadden, zonden zij den anderen slaaf van\nde drie, die met de vrouwen gekomen was, en die toevallig bij hen was,\nijlings naar de Spanjaarden, om hen hiervan te verwittigen en te hulp te\nroepen, daarop namen zij hunne geweren en kruid en lood mede, en\ntrokken terug naar de plaats, waar hunne vrouwen waren, doch bleven op\neenigen afstand, om zoo mogelijk de wilden te blijven gadeslaan.\nZij waren niet ver gegaan of zij konden van een hoogen grond het\nlegertje van hunne vijanden regt op hunne woningen zien afgaan, en een\noogenblik later hunne woningen en al hun huisraad in lichtelaaije vlam\nstaan, tot hunne bittere smart en spijt, want zij leden een groot en\nvoor eenigen tijd onherstelbaar verlies. Zij bleven eene poos stand\nhouden, tot zij de wilden als verscheurende dieren zagen rondzwerven,\nalles vernielende en nazoekende om buit te maken, en vooral naar\nmenschen zoekende, waarvan zij, gelijk thans duidelijk bleek, kennis\ndroegen. Dit ziende, achtten de twee Engelschen zich niet langer veilig\nwaar zij stonden, daar waarschijnlijk sommige wilden, en misschien een\nte groote overmagt, hunnen kant heen zouden komen. Dus trokken zij een\nhalf kwartier verder terug, hopende, dat hoe verder zij gingen, hoe meer\nzij zich verspreiden zouden. Zij hielden stand aan het begin van een\nzeer digt begroeid deel van het bosch, en waar een ouden, zeer grooten\nen hollen boomstam stond, en in dezen boom gingen zij staan en besloten\naf te wachten wat er verder gebeuren zou.\nNiet lang daarna kwamen twee wilden regt op hen aan, alsof zij wisten,\ndat zij hier stonden en hen kwamen aanvallen, en kort achter hen zagen\nzij er nog drie aankomen, en nog vijf op eenigen afstand, die allen\ndenzelfden weg hielden; terwijl in de verte nog zeven of acht\nrondzwierven, want zij liepen overal als jagers, die het wild opzoeken.\nDe arme kerels wisten zelf niet of zij stand houden of de vlugt nemen\nzouden. Na een oogenblik beraad begrepen zij, dat als de wilden de\nlandstreek zoo afliepen, voor er bijstand kwam opdagen, zij misschien\nhunne schuilplaats in het bosch zouden ontdekken, en dan was alles\nverloren; dus besloten zij stand te houden, en als er voor hen te veel\nkwamen, boven in den boom te klimmen, waaruit zij zich, zoo zij niet\ndoor vuur aangevallen werden, dachten te kunnen verdedigen, zoo lang hun\nkruid en lood zou strekken, al vielen ook al de wilden, die geland\nwaren, wier aantal omstreeks vijftig bedroeg, hen aan. Daarna\nberaadslaagden zij of zij op de twee voorsten wilden schieten, of de\ndrie volgende afwachten, en op deze vuren; waardoor de twee voorsten en\nde vijf laatsten gescheiden zouden zijn. Eindelijk besloten zij de twee\nvoorsten te laten gaan, ten ware dezen hen in den boom ontdekten of\naanvielen. Zij deden dit echter niet, maar gingen een weinig ter zijde\nnaar een ander gedeelte van het bosch, doch de drie en de vijf achter\nhen kwamen regt op den boom aan, als wisten zij, dat de Engelschen daar\nwaren.\nToen deze hen zoo regt op hen zagen afkomen, besloten zij, daar zij\nachter elkander liepen, dat slechts een te gelijk zou schieten, en\nmisschien kon het eerste schot hen alle drie treffen. Daarom deed de een\nvier of vijf kogels op zijn geweer, en daar hij uit een gat in den boom\neen goed mikpunt had, legde hij aan zonder gezien te worden, wachtende\ntot zij omtrent dertig schreden van hem af waren, zoodat hij niet missen\nkon. Terwijl de wilden naderden zagen zij duidelijk, dat een van de\ndrie de wilde was, die van hen was weggeloopen. Beide herkenden hem\nduidelijk, en besloten, dat hij, zoo mogelijk, niet zou ontsnappen, al\nzouden zij beide vuren, dus hield de ander zijn geweer gereed, om, zoo\nhij niet bij het eerste schot viel, hem ook een kogel toe te zenden.\nMaar de eerste was een te goed schutter, om hem te missen, en daar de\nwilden digt achter elkander gingen, trof hij twee van hen. De eerste\nontving een kogel in het hoofd en was dadelijk dood; de tweede, die de\nweggeloopen wilde was, stortte met een kogel in den buik neder, doch was\nniet dood, en de derde had een schampschot in den schouder, misschien\nvan denzelfden kogel, die den ander door het lijf was gegaan, en daar\nhij, schoon ligt gewond, allerhevigst verschrikt was, viel hij akelig\nschreeuwende en gillende op den grond.\nDe vijf achtersten, meer verschrikt van het schot, dan gevaar ziende,\nstonden eerst stil; want het schot weergalmde in het bosch, en de echo's\nherhaalden het, en de vogels vlogen met een geweldig gekrijsch van alle\nkanten op, even als het was toen ik het eerste schot deed, dat misschien\ndaar ooit, zoo lang het eiland geweest was, gevallen was. Toen echter\nalles weder stil werd, gingen zij, niet wetende wat er gebeurd was,\nonbezorgd verder, tot zij aan de plaats kwamen, waar hunne makkers zich\nin een toestand bevonden, die jammerlijk genoeg was. En hier stonden de\narme onwetende schepselen, weinig bevroedende, dat hun hetzelfde onheil\nboven het hoofd hing, allen over den gewonde gebogen, en vroegen\nwaarschijnlijk hoe hij zoo gekwetst kwam. Het is te denken, dat hij\nzeide, dat een bliksemstraal en daarop gevolgde donderslag der goden\ndeze twee gedood en hem gewond had; dat is, zeg ik, te denken, want\ngelijk zij niemand in hunne nabijheid gezien hadden, zoo ook hadden zij\nnimmer iets van een geweerschot gehoord, en geenerlei besef, dat men\nmenschen met vuur en kogels op een afstand dooden konde. Ware het\nanders, dan zouden zij niet zoo gerust bij hunne makkers gestaan hebben,\nzonder voor zichzelven een gelijk lot te vreezen.\nOfschoon het de beide Engelschen, gelijk zij mij naderhand verklaarden,\naan het hart ging, dat zij zoo veel arme schepsels, die zelfs geenerlei\nbesef van hun gevaar hadden, moesten dooden, besloten zij echter, daar\nzij hen nu allen in hunne magt hadden, en de eerste weder geladen had,\nthans beide vuur te geven, en kwamen overeen op wie ieder mikken zou,\nwaarna zij vier hunner doodden, of althans zwaar kwetsten, de vijfde,\nofschoon niet gewond, viel van schrik met de overigen op den grond, zoo\ndat zij hen allen ziende vallen, dachten, dat zij allen gedood waren. In\ndeze meening stapten onze twee mannen moedig uit den boom alvorens zij\nweder geladen hadden, hetgeen zeer onverstandig was; en zij zagen vreemd\nop, toen zij op de plek komende, niet minder dan vier wilden nog in\nleven vonden, en daarvan twee ligt en een geheel niet gekwetst. Dit\ndwong hen de kolf van hun geweer te gebruiken; en eerst maakten zij den\nweggeloopen wilde van kant, die de oorzaak van al het onheil was, en een\nander, die in de knie gekwetst was. Toen kwam de wilde, die ongekwetst\nwas, en knielde voor hen neder met opgeheven handen, en maakte onder een\njammerlijk misbaar allerlei teekens om zijn leven te sparen; schoon zij\ngeen woord konden verstaan van al wat hij zeide.\nZij gelastten hem echter door teekens, dat hij aan den voet van een boom\ndaar in de nabijheid zou gaan zitten, en een der Engelschen bond met een\nstuk touw, dat hij toevallig in zijn zak had, hem de beenen stijf bijeen\nen de handen op zijn rug, en daarop lieten zij hem liggen, en volgden\nijlings de twee voorste achterna, vreezende, dat deze of anderen den weg\nnaar hunnen schuilhoek in de bosschen zouden vinden, waar hunne vrouwen\nen hunne weinige bezittingen verborgen waren. Eens kregen zij hen beide\nin het gezigt, schoon op een grooten afstand. Zij hadden echter het\ngenoegen hen een vallei te zien doortrekken, die naar den zeekant liep,\ngeheel den tegenovergestelden weg van dien, die naar hunne spelonk\nleidde, waar zij voor vreesden. Hieromtrent gerust gesteld, keerden zij\nnaar den boom terug, waar zij hunnen gevangene gelaten hadden.\nWaarschijnlijk was deze door zijne makkers verlost, want hij was weg, en\nde twee einden touw, waarmede hij gebonden was geweest, lagen aan den\nvoet des booms.\nZij waren thans even ongerust als te voren; niet wetende hoe nabij of\nhoe sterk de vijand was; dus besloten zij zich naar de plaats te\nbegeven, waar hunne vrouwen waren, om te zien of alles wel was, en haar,\ndie zeker zeer in angst moesten zijn, gerust te stellen; want schoon de\nwilden hare landgenooten waren, waren zij echter doodelijk bang voor\nhen, misschien omdat zij hen zoo goed kenden. Daar gekomen, bespeurden\nzij, dat de wilden in het bosch en zelfs zeer nabij de plek waren\ngeweest, doch die niet gevonden hadden; want zij was inderdaad niet te\nontdekken, daar de boomen er zoo digt stonden, ten ware de personen, die\nhet zochten, door anderen, die de plek kenden, geleid werden, hetgeen\nhier het geval niet was. Zij vonden dus alles wel, behalve dat de\nvrouwen in doodsangst waren. Terwijl zij hier waren, hadden zij het\ngenoegen van zeven Spanjaarden tot hunnen bijstand te zien aankomen; de\nandere tien met hunne slaven en den ouden Vrijdag, ik meen Vrijdags\nvader, waren gezamenlijk naar de buitenplaats vertrokken, om het graan\nen het vee, dat daar bewaard werd, te verdedigen, in geval de wilden aan\ndien kant mogten komen; maar zij kwamen zoo ver niet. Met de zeven\nSpanjaards kwam een van de wilden, die zij, gelijk ik verhaald heb,\nvroeger gevangen hadden gemaakt, alsmede de wilde, dien de Engelschen\naan handen en voeten gebonden bij den boom hadden gelaten, want zij\nwaren dien kant afgekomen, hadden de zeven dooden gezien en den\ngevangene losgemaakt en medegenomen. Zij waren echter genoodzaakt hem\nweder te binden, gelijk zij ook de twee gedaan hadden, die\nachtergebleven waren, toen de derde weggeloopen was.\nDeze gevangenen waren thans een last voor hen, en zij waren zoo bang,\ndat zij ontsnappen zouden, dat zij overwogen of het niet volstrekt\nnoodig was hen tot zelfbehoud te dooden. De Spaansche gouverneur wilde\nechter hiertoe zijne toestemming niet geven, maar gelastte, dat zij uit\nde voeten, naar mijne oude spelonk gebragt en daar bewaard zouden\nblijven, met twee Spanjaarden bij hen, om hen te bewaken en voedsel te\ngeven. Dit geschiedde, en men bond hun handen en voeten voor dien nacht.\nToen de Spanjaarden aankwamen, waren de Engelschen zoo moedig geworden,\ndat zij niet langer zich vergenoegen konden met daar te blijven, maar\nmet vijf Spanjaarden begaven zij zich op weg, gewapend met vier geweren\nen eene pistool, en twee duchtige knuppels, om de wilden op te zoeken.\nEerst kwamen zij aan den boom, waar de wilden lagen, die zij gedood\nhadden, maar het was gemakkelijk te zien, dat daar nog eenige wilden\ngeweest waren, want zij hadden getracht hunne dooden mede te voeren, en\ntwee een goed eind weegs voortgesleept, doch het toen opgegeven. Vandaar\nbegaven zij zich naar de hoogte, waarop zij eerst gestaan hadden, en\nhunne plantingen hadden zien vernielen, en nog het verdriet hadden\neenigen rook te zien oprijzen, maar nergens zagen zij hier eenige\nwilden. Zij besloten toen, echter met alle mogelijke behoedzaamheid,\nvoort te trekken tot aan hunne vernielde plantaadje. Doch even voor dat\nzij die bereikten, kwamen zij in het gezigt van het strand, en zagen\nduidelijk al de wilden in hunne kanoes scheep gaan, om te vertrekken.\nHet speet hun eerst, dat zij hen thans niet bereiken konden, om hun nog\neen afscheidsgroet te geven, doch over het geheel waren zij thans wel\ntevreden van hen ontslagen te zijn.\nDe arme Engelschen waren thans voor de tweede maal geru\u00efneerd, en al\nhunne aanplantingen vernield. Al de overigen besloten hen te helpen\nbouwen en van het noodige te voorzien. Hunne drie landslieden, die tot\nhiertoe nog niet de minste neiging betoond hadden om iets goeds te doen,\nkwamen thans, zoodra zij het hoorden (want daar zij ver oostwaarts\nwoonden, hadden zij er niets van gehoord voor dat alles afgeloopen was),\nen boden hunne hulp en bijstand aan, en werkten verscheidene dagen\nijverig mede om hunne hutten weder op te bouwen en hen van het noodige\nte voorzien, en zoo werden zij in korten tijd weder in hunnen vorigen\nstaat gezet.\nOngeveer twee dagen later hadden zij het genoegen drie van de kanoes der\nwilden aan strand te zien spoelen, en op eenigen afstand van daar twee\nverdronken lieden, waaruit zij met grond vermoedden, dat hun op zee een\nstorm overvallen had, die hen had doen omslaan, want het woei den nacht\nna hun vertrek zeer hard. Schoon echter eenigen verongelukt waren, zoo\nontsnapten er van hen genoeg om de overigen te verwittigen zoo wel van\nhetgeen zij verrigt als hetgeen hun overkomen was; en hen tot eene\nandere soortgelijke onderneming aan te sporen, welke zij, naar het\nscheen, besloten te beproeven met genoegzame magt om alles te veroveren\nwat zij ontmoetten; want uitgezonderd hetgeen de eerste man hen van\nbewoners verhaald had, konden zij daarvan weinig mededeelen, want zij\nhadden geen mensch gezien, en daar de man, die dat verhaald had, gedood\nwas, hadden zij niemand om dit te bevestigen.\nHet duurde vijf of zes maanden, dat zij niets verder van de wilden\nhoorden, in welken tijd de onzen begonnen te hopen, dat zij hun vorig\nonheil niet vergeten of dat zij de hoop op een beteren uitslag hadden\nopgegeven. Plotseling echter werden zij overvallen door eene geduchte\nvloot van niet minder dan acht en twintig kanoes vol wilden, met bogen\nen pijlen, groote knuppels, houten zwaarden en dergelijk krijgstuig\ngewapend, en deze ware zoo vol volk, dat onze bewoners er door in de\ngrootste verlegenheid geraakten. Daar zij met den avond en aan de\noostelijkste zijde van het eiland aan wal kwamen, hadden de onzen den\ngeheelen nacht om te overleggen wat zij doen zouden. In de eerste\nplaats, wetende dat vroeger al hunne veiligheid daarin bestond, dat zij\nonopgemerkt bleven, en dit thans te meer het geval was, nu het getal\nhunner vijanden zoo groot was, besloten zij eerstelijk de twee hutten,\ndie voor de Engelschen gebouwd waren, te slechten, en hunne geiten naar\nde oude spelonk te drijven; omdat zij onderstelden, dat de wilden\nregtstreeks daarheen zouden trekken zoodra het dag werd, om het oude\nwerk van vernielen te hervatten, schoon zij thans twee mijlen vandaar\ngeland waren.\nVervolgens dreven zij al de geiten, die zij hadden, naar mijne\nbuitenplaats, gelijk ik die noemde, die aan de Spanjaards behoorde, en\nlieten zoo min mogelijk ergens een spoor van bewoners, en vroeg in den\nmorgen vatten zij met al hunne strijdmagt post bij de plantaadje der\ntwee mannen om hen af te wachten. Het gebeurde gelijk zij vermoed\nhadden; de nieuwaangekomenen lieten hunne kanoes aan het oosteinde van\nhet eiland, en kwamen langs het strand regt op de plaats aan, ten\ngetalle van tweehonderd en vijftig, naar de onzen gissen konden. Ons\nleger was slechts klein, maar wat nog erger is, zij hadden geen wapens\ngenoeg voor hen allen. Hunne geheele strijdmagt was naar het scheen als\nvolgt zamengesteld; eerstelijk uit manschappen:\n  17 Spanjaarden.\n  5 Engelschen.\n  1 oude Vrijdag, of Vrijdags vader.\n  3 slaven met de vrouwen medegebragt, die zeer getrouw bleken te zijn.\n  3 andere slaven, die bij de Spanjaards woonden.\nOm deze te wapenen hadden zij:\n  11 geweren.\n  5 pistolen.\n  3 jagtgeweren.\n  5 geweren, of jagtgeweren, die door mij aan de oproerige\n  matrozen ontnomen waren.\n  2 sabels.\n  3 oude hellebaarden.\nAan hunne slaven gaven zij geene geweren, maar deze hadden ieder een\nhellebaard of een langen stok met een ijzeren spits aan het einde, en\neene bijl op zijde; ook ieder van de onzen had eene bijl. Twee van de\nvrouwen wilden volstrekt deel aan het gevecht nemen, en zij hadden boog\nen pijlen, die de Spanjaards den wilden ontnomen hadden bij het eerste\ngevecht, dat ik vermeld heb, waar de Indianen gezamenlijk vochten; deze\nvrouwen hadden bijlen ook.\nDe Spaansche gouverneur, van wien ik zoo dikwijls gesproken heb, voerde\nhet opperbevel, en Willem Atkins, die schoon een vreesselijke snoodaard,\ntevens een allermoedigste kerel was, voerde onder hem het bevel. De\nwilden kwamen aanrukken als leeuwen, en wat het ergste was, de onzen\nhadden geen voordeel van het terrein, behalve dat Willem Atkins, die\nthans uitermate veel nut deed, met zes man achter eenige struiken, als\neene soort van voorpost geplaatst was, met bevel eenigen te laten\nvoorbijtrekken, en dan midden onder hen te vuren, en dadelijk daarop\nachter een boschje om te trekken, en zoo achter de Spanjaards te komen,\ndie allen door eenige digte boomen beschermd werden.\nToen de onzen aankwamen, liepen de wilden allen bij hoopen rond te\nzwerven, zonder eenige orde, en Willem Atkins liet ongeveer vijftig\nhunner voorbijtrekken; toen ziende, dat de overigen digt opeengedrongen\nnaderden, gelastte hij drie van zijn volk vuur te geven, nadat zij ieder\nzes of zeven kogels, zoo groot als groote pistoolkogels, op hun geweer\ngedaan hadden. Hoeveel zij doodden of wondden wisten zij niet, maar de\nverwarring en verbaasdheid onder de wilden was onbeschrijfelijk, die\nallerhevigst ontstelden op het hooren van zulk een geraas, en hunne\nmakkers gedood zagen en anderen gekwetst, zonder dat zij iemand zagen,\ndie het deed; waarop Willem Atkins, te midden van hunnen schrik, met de\ndrie anderen in den digtsten hoop vuurde, en in minder dan eene minuut\ngaven de drie anderen, die inmiddels weder geladen hadden, hun nogmaals\nde laag.\nZoo Willem Atkins met zijn volk dadelijk, na vuur gegeven te hebben, was\nteruggetrokken, zoo als hem gelast was; of zoo de overigen daar vlak bij\ngeweest waren, om een aanhoudend vuur te geven, zouden zij de wilden\ngeheel verslagen hebben, want de schrik, die onder hen heerschte,\nontstond voornamelijk daaruit, dat zij geloofden door hunne goden met\ndonder en bliksem gedood te worden, omdat zij niemand zagen. Maar Willem\nAtkins deed hun de krijgslist ontdekken, door stand te houden om weder\nte laden. Eenige wilden, die op een afstand waren, hadden hen ontdekt en\nkwamen van achteren op hen aan, en schoon Atkins en zijn volk ook twee\nof drie malen op hen vuurden, en terwijl hij zoo spoedig hij kon\nterugtrok, ongeveer twintig van hen doodde, wondden zij echter Atkins\nzelf en doodden een der Engelschen met hunne bogen, gelijk zij naderhand\neen Spanjaard deden en een der met de vrouwen gekomen Indiaansche\nslaven. Deze slaaf was een dappere kerel en vocht allerwoedendst,\nterwijl hij vijf hunner met eigen hand doodde, zonder ander wapen dan\nzijn piek en een bijl.\nOns volk, dat thans hard bedrongen werd, daar Atkins gewond en twee\nanderen gedood waren, trok terug naar eene hoogte in het bosch; ook de\nSpanjaarden trokken terug na hun driemaal de laag te hebben gegeven;\nwant hun aantal was zoo groot en zij waren zoo verwoed, dat schoon meer\ndan vijftig hunner gedood en nog meer gewond waren, zij echter tot vlak\nbij de onzen doordrongen, zonder het gevaar te ontzien, en eene wolk van\npijlen afschoten, en men merkte op, dat hunne gekwetsten, die door hunne\nwonden niet geheel buiten gevecht gesteld waren, als razenden vochten.\nToen ons volk aftrok, lieten zij den Spanjaard en den Engelschman, die\ngedood waren, achter; en toen de wilden hen vonden, mishandelden zij\nhunne lijken gruwelijk, door hen met hunne knuppels en houten zwaarden,\nals echte wilden armen en beenen en hoofden te verbrijzelen. Doch\nbespeurende, dat ons volk vertrokken was, schenen zij niet voornemens\nhen te vervolgen, maar sloten een kring, dat naar het scheen, hunne\ngewoonte was, en hieven tweemaal een gejuich aan, ten teeken van\nvictorie. Waarna zij verscheidene hunner zagen nedervellen en van\nbloedverlies sterven.\nDe Spaansche gouverneur had zijn kleine troep op eene hoogte\nbijeengetrokken. Atkins, ofschoon gewond, wilde oprukken en gezamenlijk\nde wilden op het lijf vallen. Maar de Spanjaard zeide: \"Sennor Atkins,\ngij ziet hoe hunne gewonden vechten; laat hen in rust tot morgen, dan\nzullen al die gekwetsten stijf en pijnlijk van hunne wonden en zwak van\nbloedverlies zijn, en dan zullen wij met minder te doen hebben.\" Deze\nraad was goed, maar Willem Atkins zeide vrolijk: \"Dat is waar, sennor,\nmaar dat zal ik ook zijn, en daarom wilde ik nu op hen af, nu ik nog\nwarm ben.\"--\"Wel, sennor Atkins,\" zeide de Spanjaard, \"gij hebt u dapper\ngekweten en u deel verrigt; wij zullen voor u vechten als gij niet voort\nkunt; maar ik denk dat het best is tot morgen te wachten.\" Dus bleven\nzij wachten.\nMaar daar het helder maanlicht was, en zij bespeurden, dat de wilden\nin groote wanorde om hunne dooden en gekwetsten heen zwierven, met een\ngroot rumoer waar zij lagen, besloten zij naderhand hen gedurende den\nnacht te overvallen, vooral als zij in staat zouden zijn hen slechts\neene laag te geven, alvorens ontdekt te worden. Hiertoe vonden zij eene\nschoone gelegenheid, want een der twee Engelschen, nabij wiens woning\nhet gevecht begonnen was, voerde hen tusschen de bosschen en het\nwestelijk strand door, en vervolgens zuidwaarts keerende, kwamen zij\nnabij den digtsten hoop wilden, zoodat, alvorens zij gezien werden, acht\nhunner onder hen schoten en eene vreesselijke slagting aanrigtten. Eene\nhalve minuut daarna gaven acht anderen vuur op hen, en door hun schroot\nwerden ook eene menigte gedood en gewond, en al dien tijd waren zij niet\nin staat te zien wie hen aanviel of waarheen zij vlugten moesten. Zoo\nspoedig zij konden laadden de Spanjaards weder, en verdeelden zich\ndaarop in drie hoopen, en besloten hen alle op hetzelfde oogenblik op\nhet lijf te vallen. Ieder troep bestond uit acht personen, dat is vier\nen twintig te zamen, waarvan twee en twintig mannen en twee vrouwen,\ndie, om dit ter loops aan te merken, verwoed vochten.\nZij verdeelden de vuurwapens, hellebaarden en pieken gelijkelijk onder\niedere troep. Zij wilden de vrouwen achter laten blijven, maar deze\nzeiden, dat zij met hare mannen in den dood wilden gaan. Na aldus hun\nlegertje verdeeld te hebben, kwamen zij van onder het geboomte te\nvoorschijn en rukten op den vijand aan, terwijl zij zoo hard schreeuwden\nals zij konden. De wilden stonden allen opeen, doch waren in de uiterste\nverwarring, daar zij ons volk van drie kanten te gelijk hoorden\nschreeuwen. Zij zouden gevochten hebben, zoo zij hen gezien hadden, en\nzoodra zij in hun gezigt kwamen, werden eenige pijlen op hen gelost en\nde oude Vrijdag gewond, schoon niet gevaarlijk. Doch de onzen gaven hun\ngeen tijd, maar drie maal op hen aanvallende, gaven zij hun drie maal de\nlaag en vielen daarop aan met de geweerkolven, sabels, pieken en bijlen,\nen sloegen daarmede zoo in het rond, dat de wilden een jammerlijk gehuil\nen gegil aanhieven, en naar alle kanten heen vlugtten om hun leven te\nredden.\nDe onzen waren vermoeid van het moorden; zij hadden in de beide\ngevechten ongeveer honderd en tachtig gedood of zwaar gewond; de\noverigen vlugtten, geheel verbijsterd, door de bosschen en over de\nheuvels, zoo snel hunne voeten hen dragen konden; en daar de onzen zich\nweinig moeite gaven om hen na te zetten, bereikten zij allen gezamenlijk\nhet strand, waar zij geland waren en hunne kanoe's lagen. Doch hunne\nrampen waren nog niet ge\u00ebindigd, want dien avond kwam er uit zee een\ngeweldige storm op, zoodat zij onmogelijk in zee konden steken, ja daar\nde storm den geheelen nacht aanhield, waren hunne kanoe's, toen de eb\nbegon, zoo hoog op het strand geslagen, dat zij er niet dan met de\ngrootste moeite weder konden afgebragt worden, en eenigen er van waren\nzelfs tegen de kust of tegen elkander verbrijzeld.\nDe onzen, schoon verheugd over hunne overwinning, genoten dien nacht\nechter weinig rust; maar na eenige ververschingen genuttigd te hebben,\nbesloten zij naar de plaats te trekken waar de wilden heen gevlugt\nwaren, om te zien hoe zij thans gesteld waren. Dit bragt hen natuurlijk\nweder over de plaats van het gevecht, waar zij verscheidene van die arme\nschepsels vonden, die nog niet geheel dood waren en toch geen hoop op\nherstel meer hadden; dit was voor een edelmoedig gemoed een treurig\ngezigt, want een waarlijk groot man, schoon door de wet des oorlogs\nverpligt zijn vijand te vernielen, schept toch in zijn ongeluk geen\nbehagen. Zij behoefden hieromtrent echter geene bevelen te geven, want\nhunne eigene wilden, die in hunne dienst stonden, maakten deze arme\nschepsels met hunne bijlen af. Eindelijk kregen zij de plaats in het\ngezigt, waar het rampzalig overschot van het leger der wilden gelegerd\nwas; dat uit nog een honderd man scheen te bestaan; zij zaten meestal op\nden grond, met het hoofd tusschen de handen.\nToen de onzen op een paar geweerschoten afstand van hen gekomen waren,\ngelastte de Spaansche gouverneur twee schoten met los kruid te doen. Dit\ndeed hij, om uit hun voorkomen op te maken, wat men van hen te wachten\nhad, namelijk of zij nog moeds genoeg bezaten om te vechten, of dat zij\ndoor hunne nederlaag geheel ontmoedigd waren, ten einde hij\ndiensvolgens zou kunnen handelen. Deze krijgslist gelukte. Naauwelijks\nhadden de wilden het eerste schot gehoord, of zij sprongen in de grootst\nmogelijke verwarring op de been, en toen de onzen zich snel naar hen toe\nbegaven, liepen allen gillende en huilende weg, met eene soort van\ngillend gekrijsch, dat ons volk niet verstond en nimmer te voren gehoord\nhad, en zoo liepen zij over de heuvels landwaarts in. Eerst wenschten de\nonzen, dat het weder meer bedaard geweest was, en zij allen in zee waren\ngestoken, maar daarbij bedachten zij niet, dat dit waarschijnlijk\naanleiding zou gegeven hebben, dat zij in zoo grooten getale terug waren\ngekomen, dat zij onwederstaanbaar waren, of althans, dat zij zoo sterk\nen zoo dikwijls terugkwamen, dat het eiland er geheel door verwoest\nworden en zij van honger sterven zouden. Willem Atkins, die in weerwil\nvan zijne wond altijd bij hen geweest was, gaf thans den besten raad,\nhij stelde voor van hun tegenwoordig voordeel partij te trekken, de\nwilden van hunne kanoe's af te snijden, en hun zoo de mogelijkheid\nontnemen van wederom tot onheil des eilands terug te komen.\nLang beraadslaagden zij hierover, en sommigen waren er tegen, uit vrees,\ndat de rampzaligen naar de bosschen zouden vlugten en daar in wanhoop\nblijven leven; en dan zouden zij jagt op hen moeten maken als op wilde\nbeesten, bevreesd zijn van buiten's huis te gaan, hunne velden steeds\nafgestroopt, hun tam vee gestolen vinden, en kortom in de grootste\narmoede voortaan moeten leven. William Atkins voerde daarentegen aan,\ndat het beter was met honderd mannen, dan met honderd nati\u00ebn te doen te\nkrijgen, dat zij niet alleen de kanoe's vernielen, maar ook de menschen\nmoesten uitroeijen, of zelf door hen uitgeroeid worden. In een woord hij\nbewees hun zoo duidelijk, dat het noodig was, dat zij er allen in\ntoestemden; dus begonnen zij dadelijk de kanoes te vernielen, en eenig\ndroog hout van een dooden boom nemende, trachtten zij er eenigen van in\nbrand te steken, maar zij waren zoo nat, dat zij niet wilden branden.\nHet vuur beschadigde haar echter zoo, dat zij geen zee konden bouwen.\nToen de Indianen zagen, wat er gebeurde, kwamen eenige hunner het bosch\nuitstuiven, en de onzen naderende, knielden zij neder en riepen: _Oa,\noa, waremokoa_! en eenige andere woorden in hunne taal, waarvan niemand\niets verstond, doch uit hunne droevige gebaren en gejammer kon men\nduidelijk opmaken, dat zij smeekten hunne booten te sparen, en dat zij\nvertrekken wilden en nimmer terugkomen.\nDoch de onzen waren thans overtuigd, dat hun zelfbehoud en dat der\nkolonie hun geen anderen weg openliet, dan dit volk te beletten weder\nnaar hun land terug te keeren; daar zij begrepen, dat zoo slechts een\nhunner in zijn land terugkeerde om zijnen landslieden het voorgevallene\nmede te deelen, het met de kolonie gedaan was. Zij gaven hun dus te\nkennen, dat zij geene genade te wachten hadden, en vernielden al die\nkanoes, welke de storm nog gespaard had. Op dit gezigt hieven de wilden\nin het bosch een afgrijsselijk geschreeuw aan, dat de onzen duidelijk\nhoorden, waarna zij als onzinnigen in het rond liepen, zoodat de onzen\neerst niet wisten, wat met hun te doen.\nDe Spanjaards met al hunne voorzigtigheid bedachten ook niet, dat,\nterwijl zij deze lieden tot het uiterste bragten, zij goede wacht over\nhunne plantaadjen moesten houden, want schoon zij hun vee weggedreven\nhadden en de Indianen hunne voornaamste bewaarplaats daarvan niet\nvonden, namelijk mijn oud kasteel aan den heuvel of de spelonk in het\ndal, hadden zij echter mijne plantaadje aan mijn lusthuis ontdekt, en\nhet gewas en de afsluitingen geheel vernield, het graan vertrapt, de\nwijngaarden uitgeroeid, terwijl de druiven bijkans rijp waren, en de\nonzen eene onberekenbare schade toegebragt, zonder er zelf eenig\nvoordeel van te hebben. Schoon de onzen hen altijd het hoofd konden\nbieden, konden zij hen echter niet vervolgen of jagt op hen maken, en\nterwijl zij de onzen te vlug ter been waren als deze een enkelen hunner\naantroffen, durfden deze echter ook niet alleen uitgaan, uit vrees van\ndoor een aantal hunner omsingeld te worden. Gelukkig hadden zij geene\nwapens, want zij hadden wel bogen maar geen pijlen noch middelen om die\nte maken, en ander wapentuig hadden zij niet.\nGroot en inderdaad beklagelijk was het gebrek, dat zij leden, maar te\ngelijk werden de onzen tot strenge maatregelen tegen hen genoopt, want\nschoon hun bergplaats bewaard was, waren hunne velden vernield en\nverwoest. Hun eenigste toevlugt was thans hunne kudde, die zij in het\ndal bij de spelonk hielden, en eenig graan, dat daar groeide, benevens\nde plantaadje van Willem Atkins en zijn makker, waarvan de ander gedood\nwas door een pijl, die hem in het hoofd getroffen had. Het was\nopmerkelijk, dat dit dezelfde woestaard was, die den armen slaaf met\nzijne bijl gewond, en naderhand voorgeslagen had al de Spanjaards te\nvermoorden. Hun toestand scheen mij thans slimmer dan de mijne ooit was,\nnadat ik het eerst de halmen graan en rijst ontdekt, en eenig koorn\ngewonnen en tam vee gekregen had; want nu hadden zij als het ware\nhonderd wolven op het eiland, die alles vernielden wat in hun bereik\nkwam, schoon zij hen zelven niet bereiken konden.\nHet eerst wat zij besloten was, hen zoo mogelijk verder naar het\nzuidoost einde van het eiland te drijven, opdat, zoo er meer wilden op\nhet eiland kwamen, deze hen niet zouden vinden, vervolgens, dat zij hen\ndagelijks zouden bestooken, en zoo veel dooden als zij konden, tot hun\ngetal wat afgenomen was en zij hen konden temmen, wanneer zij hun koorn\nzouden geven en leeren hoe zij dit aankweeken en van hunnen veldarbeid\nleven konden. Te dien einde vervolgden en verschrikten zij hen zoodanig\nmet hunne geweren, dat als een na weinige dagen op een Indiaan schoot,\ndeze, als hij niet getroffen was, van schrik nederstortte; en zij waren\nzoo vreesselijk beangst, dat zij zich steeds verder verwijderden, tot\neindelijk de onzen hen volgden en schier alle dagen eenigen doodden of\nwondden; waarop zij zich zoo in holen en bosschen verscholen, dat zij\nschier van honger vergingen, en eenigen vond men naderhand dood in het\nbosch zonder eenige wond, die alleen van honger gestorven waren.\nToen de onzen dit gewaar werden ging het hun aan het hart, en gevoelden\nzij diep medelijden met hen, vooral de Spaansche gouverneur, die de\nedelmoedigste man was, dien ik ooit in mijn leven aangetroffen heb. Hij\nsloeg voor, er zoo mogelijk een gevangen te nemen en hem hun voornemen\nte doen begrijpen, zoo dat hij het zijnen landslieden kon mededeelen, en\ntrachten hen tot het aannemen van voorwaarden aan te manen, waardoor zij\nin het leven konden blijven en geen kwaad meer doen. Het duurde eenigen\ntijd voor men er een magtig kon worden, en eindelijk werd een, die zeer\nverzwakt en half dood van honger was, gevangen genomen. Hij was eerst\nnorsch, en wilde eten noch drinken, maar toen hij zag, dat hij goed\nbehandeld werd en men hem geen kwaad deed, werd hij eindelijk\nhandelbaar.\nDaarop liet men den ouden Vrijdag tot hem gaan, die veel met hem sprak,\nen hem zeide hoe goed men het met hen allen voorhad, dat zij hun niet\nalleen in het leven wilden sparen, maar ook een deel van het eiland\ngeven om op te wonen, mits zij beloofden, dat zij binnen hunne grenzen\nbleven en den anderen geen kwaad deden; en dat zij hun graan zouden\ngeven om aan te kweeken en er brood van te maken, en eenig brood om\nthans van te leven, en de oude Vrijdag zeide den wilde, dat hij aan\nzijne landslieden dit moest mededeelen en hooren wat zij er van zeiden,\nterwijl hij verzekerde, dat zoo zij dit niet dadelijk aannamen, zij\nallen uitgeroeid zouden worden.\nDe rampzaligen, die geheel gedwee waren geworden, en wier getal tot op\nzevenendertig was gesmolten, namen dadelijk den voorslag aan, en\nsmeekten om eenig voedsel; waarop twaalf Spanjaarden en twee Engelschen,\ngoed gewapend, met drie slaven en den ouden Vrijdag zich naar de plaats\nbegaven, waar zij waren. De drie slaven droegen eene groote menigte\nbrood en eenige uit rijst gebakken en in de zon gedroogde koeken en drie\nlevende geiten. Men gelastte hun op de zijde van een heuvel te gaan\nzitten, gelijk zij deden, en met veel dankbaarheid de levensmiddelen\nopaten en in het vervolg hunne beloften ten stiptste nakwamen; want\nbehalve als zij om levensmiddelen of onderrigting kwamen vragen,\noverschreden zij nimmer hunne grenzen, maar woonden binnen dezelve toen\nik op het eiland kwam en hen ging opzoeken.\nMen had hun geleerd graan te kweeken, brood te maken, tamme geiten te\nfokken en die te melken. Het ontbrak hun slechts aan vrouwen, anders\nzouden zij spoedig een volk geworden zijn. Hun was een strook lands\naangewezen, die aan de achterzijde door hooge heuvels omringd was, en\nvan voren zich tot aan zee aan den zuidoosthoek des eilands, uitstrekte.\nZij hadden land genoeg, en het was zeer goed en vruchtbaar, want het was\nongeveer eene halve mijl breed en eene mijl lang. De onzen leerden hun\nhouten spaden te maken, gelijk ik gedaan had, en gaven hun twaalf bijlen\nen drie of vier messen, en zij leefden zoo onderworpen en onschuldig als\nmogelijk was. Hierna genoot de kolonie ten aanzien der wilden eene\nvolkomene rust, tot ik hen ongeveer twee jaren later weder bezocht; wel\nkwamen nu en dan eenige kanoes met wilden, om hun barbaarsch gastmaal te\nhouden, maar daar zij tot onderscheidene nati\u00ebn behoorden, en misschien\nvan degenen, die vroeger kwamen, noch van hun oogmerk iets gehoord\nhadden, zochten zij nimmer naar hen, en zouden hen ook, al hadden zij\nhet gedaan, moeijelijk gevonden hebben.\nIk heb thans, geloof ik, een volledig verslag geleverd van hetgeen hun\ntot aan mijne terugkomst wedervoer, althans alles wat meldenswaardig\nwas. De Indianen of wilden waren bijzonder door hen beschaafd, en\ndikwijls gingen zij hen bezoeken, echter was het den Indianen op\ndoodstraffe verboden bij hen te komen, omdat zij hunne inrigtingen niet\nweder verraden wilden hebben.\nIets was zeer opmerkelijk, namelijk, dat zij de Indianen manden leerden\nvlechten, maar dat deze hunne meesters spoedig te boven gestreefd waren,\nwant zij maakten van teenen de alleraardigste dingen, als manden, zeven,\nvogelkooijen, enz., zoo wel als stoelen, voetbankjes, rustbanken en eene\nmenigte dergelijke dingen, en waren zeer vernuftig in dat werk, toen zij\neerst den slag er van hadden.\nMijne komst was hun uiterst welkom, want wij voorzagen hen van messen,\nscharen, schoppen, spaden, houweelen en alles wat zij van dien aard\nnoodig hadden. Met deze werktuigen waren zij zoo handig, dat zij zich\nzeer aardige hutten of woningen bouwden, die zij even als mandenwerk\ngeheel met rijs omvlochten, hetgeen zeer aardig bedacht was en\nallervreemdst stond, maar eene uitmuntende beschutting was, zoo wel\ntegen de hitte als tegen allerlei ongedierte; en de blanken waren er zoo\nmede ingenomen, dat zij den wilden verzochten dit ook voor hen te doen,\nzoodat toen ik de twee Engelsche kolonies ging bezoeken, deze op een\nafstand naar een aantal bijenkorven geleken, en Willem Atkins, die zich\nthans zeer werkzaam, nuttig en gematigd gedroeg, had zelf voor zich eene\ntent van teenen gevlochten, waarvan men de weergade wel nimmer gezien\nzal hebben. De buitenste omvang daarvan was honderd en twintig schreden,\ngelijk ik meette; de muren waren in twee en dertig vakken of paneelen\nzoo digt als eene mand gevlochten, verdeeld, en zeer sterk en omtrent\nzeven voet hoog. In het midden stond een andere muur van niet wel twee\nen twintig schreden in omvang, maar sterker en in achthoekigen vorm\ngebouwd, en op de acht hoeken stonden zeer sterke palen, op welke acht\nstutten, die het hoogopgaande dak droegen, rustten; en dat alles zeer\nsterk in elkander gevoegd, ofschoon hij geene bouten en slechts weinige\nijzeren banden had, die hij ook zelf gesmeed had uit het oude ijzer, dat\nik achtergelaten had. Inderdaad toonde deze knaap vrij wat\nscherpzinnigheid in vele dingen, waarvan hij geene kennis had. Hij had\nvoor zich eene smidse met een houten blaasbalk gemaakt. Hij had\nhoutskool gebrand, om daar te stooken, en hij maakte uit een van de\nijzeren koevoeten een tamelijk goed aanbeeld om op te smeden. Op deze\nwijze had hij verscheidene dingen gemaakt, maar vooral haken en banden,\nbouten en hengsels. Maar om tot zijn huis terug te keeren; nadat hij het\ndak van zijne binnenste tent bevestigd had, dekte hij dit met gevlochten\nteenen, en deze weder zoo netjes met rijstenstroo, en daarover groote\nboombladen, die den gevel bedekten, dat zijn huis zoo droog was of het\nmet pannen of leijen gedekt was. Hij bekende echter, dat de wilden het\nvlechtwerk voor hem gedaan hadden.\nVan deze binnensten tot aan den buitensten muur liep eene soort van\nafdak rondom denzelven geheel en al, en lange latten liepen van de twee\nen dertig vakken naar de hoofdstijlen van het binnenste huis, zijnde\neene breedte van omtrent twintig voet, zoo dat er tusschen den\nbinnensten en buitensten muur eene soort van wandeling was van twintig\nvoet breed. De binnenste tent was met soortgelijk, maar veel fijner\nvlechtwerk afgedeeld in zes vertrekken, zoodat hij zes kamers\ngelijkvloers daarin had, en in ieder dezer kamers was eerst eene deur,\ndie in den hoofdingang van de groote tent uitkwam, en eene tweede deur,\ndie in den rondloopenden gang of ruimte tusschen de beide muren uitkwam,\nzoodat deze ruimte ook in zes vakken afgescheiden was, die niet alleen\ntot een wijkplaats, maar ook tot berging van voorraad van het gezin\nstrekte. Deze zes kamers besloegen echter den geheelen omvang van den\nbuitensten omgang niet, en het overige was verdeeld als volgt. Bij het\ninkomen van de deur van het geheele gebouw zag men voor zich een regte\ngang, die naar de deur van de binnenste tent geleidde, maar aan\nweerszijden was een gevlochten beschot met eene deur er in, door welke\nmen kwam eerst in eene groote kamer of schuur van twintig voet breed en\ndertig voet lang, en door deze in eene andere, die niet wel zoo lang\nwas, zoodat er in de buitenste ruimte tien knappe kamers waren; in zes\nvan welke men niet dan door de binnenste vertrekken kon komen, en die\ntot slaap- of bergplaatsen voor de verschillende kamers van het\nbinnenste verblijf verstrekten; en vier groote schuren, of hoe men ze\nnoemen wil, die in elkander liepen, twee aan weerszijden van den ingang,\ndie naar de binnenste tent voerde.\nZulk een meesterstuk van vlechtwerk is, geloof ik, nergens ter wereld\nmeer gezien, noch een huis of tent, die sneller zamengesteld of zoo\ngebouwd was. In deze groote bijenkorf leefden drie huisgezinnen,\nnamelijk Willem Atkins en zijn makker; de ander was gedood, maar zijne\nvrouw bleef met drie kinderen over; en de beide anderen aarzelden\nvolstrekt niet om de laatsten van alles hun aandeel te geven, namelijk\nvan melk, graan, druiven en als zij een geit geslagt of een schildpad\ngevonden hadden. Allen leefden dus vrij wel, schoon het waar was, dat\nzij niet zoo vlijtig waren als de andere twee Engelschen, gelijk ik\nreeds gezegd heb.\nEene zaak mag ik echter niet verzwijgen, namelijk wat de godsdienst\nbetreft, geloof ik niet, dat zij daar ooit aan dachten; wel herinnerden\nzij elkander dikwijls genoeg, dat er een God was, door op de gewone\nwijze der matrozen zijn naam al vloekende te misbruiken. De arme,\nonwetende Indiaansche vrouwen trokken er ook geen voordeel van, dat zij\nmet Christenen, gelijk zij heetten, leefden; want daar zij zelf weinig\nvan godsdienst wisten, waren zij geheel onbekwaam een woord over God of\ngodsdienst te wisselen. De eenigste aanwinst, die de vrouwen door hun\ntoedoen verkregen hadden, was, dat zij redelijk wel Engelsch hadden\nleeren spreken, en al de kinderen, die zij hadden, dat ongeveer twintig\nbedroeg, spraken ook Engelsch, schoon in den beginne zeer gebroken,\neven als hunne moeders. Geen van deze kinderen was ouder dan zes jaren,\ntoen ik bij hen kwam; want het was niet veel langer dan zeven jaren\ngeleden, dat zij deze vijf Indiaansche dames van elders gehaald hadden;\nmaar zij waren allen zeer vruchtbaar, en hadden allen kinderen, de een\nmeer, de ander minder. Ik geloof, dat de vrouw van den gewezen koksmaat\nvan haar zesde kind zwanger was; en de moeders waren allen een goed slag\nvan stille, bedaarde, nijvere en zedige schepsels, zeer behulpzaam voor\nelkander, magtig gehoorzaam en eerbiedig jegens hunne meesters, want ik\nkan niet zeggen hunne mannen; en haar ontbrak niets dan onderrigt in de\nChristelijke godsdienst, en een wettig huwelijk, hetwelk beide later\ngelukkig door mijn toedoen tot stand kwam, althans ten gevolge van mijne\nkomst aldaar.\nNa aldus een verslag van de kolonie in het algemeen gegeven te hebben,\nen vrij uitvoerig van mijne vijf weggeloopen Engelschen, moet ik iets\nzeggen van de Spanjaarden, die het voornaamste deel van de bevolking\nuitmaakten, en wier geschiedenis ook belangrijks genoeg opleverde.\nVeel heb ik met hen gesproken over hunne omstandigheden, toen zij onder\nde wilden leefden. Zij verhaalden mij rondborstig, dat zij geene\nbewijzen konden geven van hunne vlijt of vernuft aldaar; dat zij daar\neene handvol arme, ongelukkige, neerslagtige lieden waren, dat zoo zij\nhulpmiddelen bij de hand gehad hadden, zij toch zoo aan de wanhoop\novergegeven waren, en zoo verplet door hunne ongelukken, dat zij aan\nniets dan aan den dood zouden gedacht hebben. Een hunner, een ernstig en\nzeer verstandig man, zeide, dat hij overtuigd was, dat zij ongelijk\nhadden; dat het geen mensch paste zich door het ongeluk geheel te laten\nter nederslaan, maar dat men altijd dien bijstand moest trachten te\nverwerven, die ons verstand ons zoo wel voor het oogenblik als voor het\nvervolg aanbiedt. Hij zeide mij, dat neerslagtigheid de onverstandigste\neigenschap is, die er ter wereld bestaat, want dat deze alleen op het\nverledene ziet, dat gewoonlijk onmogelijk herdaan of herroepen kan\nworden; maar geen oog op de toekomst vestigt, en zich niet toelegt op\niets wat tot redding kan strekken, maar het ongeluk veeleer verzwaart\ndan herstelt; waarbij hij een Spaansch spreekwoord aanvoerde, dat,\nschoon ik het niet letterlijk mededeelen kan, zoo veel beteekende als:\n\"treurigheid in het ongeluk verdubbelt het ongeluk.\" Vervolgens putte\nhij zich uit in loftuitingen over al de kleine verbeteringen, die ik in\nmijne eenzaamheid had tot stand gebragt, en hoe ik een toestand, die in\nden beginne op zichzelve veel erger dan de hunne was, duizendmaal\ngelukkiger gemaakt had dan de hunne was, zelfs nu zij allen bij elkander\nwaren. Hij zeide, het was opmerkelijk, dat Engelschen in het ongeluk\nmeer tegenwoordigheid van geest aan den dag leggen dan eenige andere\nnatie, die hij ooit ontmoet had; dat hunne landgenooten en de Portugezen\nhet minst geschikt waren om met tegenspoeden te worstelen; want dat in\ngevaren, na de eerste mislukte pogingen, zij dadelijk het hoofd in den\nschoot legden en zich aan de wanhoop overgaven, zonder meer om redding\nte denken.\nIk zeide hem, dat hun geval en het mijne aanmerkelijk verschilde; dat\nzij schipbreuk hadden geleden zonder eenige noodwendigheden of voedsel,\nof hoop op hun onderhoud te hebben. Wel is waar had ik het treurige\nongeval van geheel alleen te zijn, maar de toevoer, dien de\nVoorzienigheid mij zoo onverwacht beschikt had, door het op het strand\ndrijven van het schip, was zulk een hulp, dat het iedereen even als mij\ntot verdere inspanningen had moeten aansporen. \"Sennor,\" zeide de\nSpanjaard, \"zoo wij, arme Spanjaarden, in uw geval geweest waren, zouden\nwij nimmer half zooveel uit het schip gehaald hebben als gij; wij zouden\nnimmer een vlot hebben kunnen zamenstellen, of het zonder zeil of riemen\nnaar den wal gekregen hebben; en hoeveel minder zouden wij dit gedaan\nhebben,\" vervolgde hij, \"als een onzer alleen geweest was!\"--Ik verzocht\nhem daarop zijne pligtplegingen te staken en het verhaal van hunne komst\naan wal, waar zij landden, te vervolgen. Hij verhaalde mij, dat zij\nongelukkig op eene plaats landden, waar het volk zelf geen voorraad had;\nterwijl, zoo zij zoo verstandig geweest waren van weder in zee te gaan\nen naar een ander eiland, een weinig verder af, over te steken, zij\nlevensmiddelen, schoon geene bewoners, zouden gevonden hebben, gelijk\nmen hun verhaald had. Spanjaarden uit Trinidad waren daar namelijk\ndikwijls geweest, en hadden er verscheiden malen geiten en varkens op\ngezet, die zich daar ontzettend vermenigvuldigd hadden, en waar zoo veel\nschildpadden en zeevogels waren, dat zij althans geen gebrek aan vleesch\nzouden gehad hebben, al hadden zij geen brood gevonden; terwijl zij\nthans alleen van eenige wortelen en kruiden moesten leven, die zij niet\nkenden en die hun geene krachten gaven, en waarvan de inwoners hun\nslechts weinig gaven; en deze konden hen niet meer geven, of zij moesten\nkannibalen worden en menschenvleesch eten, dat de grootste lekkernij van\nhun land was.\nZij verhaalden mij hoe menigmaal zij getracht hadden de wilden,\nwaaronder zij woonden, te beschaven, en hen betere gewoonten in het\ndagelijksch leven te leeren; doch te vergeefs; en hoe deze er over\ngebelgd waren en het onregtvaardig oordeelden, dat zij die daar om hulp\nen leeftogt kwamen smeeken, zich tot leermeesters wilden opwerpen van\ndegenen, die hun brood gaven; waarmede zij, naar het scheen, hun wilden\nte kennen geven, dat niemand zich tot een anders leermeester moest\nopwerpen, als hij niet zonder hem leven kon. Een droevig tafereel hingen\nzij voor mij op van den nood, dien zij geleden hadden; hoe zij somtijds\nverscheidene dagen zonder eenig voedsel waren; daar de bewoners van dat\neiland allertraagste wezens waren, en uit dien hoofde minder van\nlevensmiddelen voorzien dan zij meenden dat anderen in dat deel der\nwereld waren, en toch vonden zij deze wilden minder roof- en vraatziek\ndan anderen, die meer voedsel hadden.\nZij voegden er bij, dat zij in hun geval op nieuw de blijken hadden\ngezien van Gods goedertierene Voorzienigheid, want zoo zij, door hunne\nontberingen en de onvruchtbaarheid van het land gedrongen, naar een\nander eiland de wijk hadden genomen, zou de hulp, die hun door mij\nbeschikt was, hen niet bereikt hebben. Zij verhaalden mij vervolgens hoe\nde wilden, waar onder zij woonden, verlangd hadden, dat zij met hen ten\noorlog zouden trekken. En het is waar, dat daar zij geweren hadden, zoo\nhun kruid en lood niet ongelukkig verloren was gegaan, zij hunne\nvrienden niet alleen veel dienst bewezen, maar zich ook bij vriend en\nvijand geducht gemaakt zouden hebben. Maar zonder kruid, en terwijl zij\ntoch billijkerwijs hunne gastheeren niet konden weigeren, mede te veld\nte trekken, waren zij er op het slagveld erger aan toe dan de wilden,\nwant zij hadden bogen noch pijlen, en konden die, welke de wilden hun\ngaven, niet hanteren; dus konden zij slechts stilstaan en pijlen op zich\nlaten afschieten, tot zij den vijand bereiken konden, en dan waren de\ndrie hellebaarden, die zij hadden, hun van veel dienst, en dikwijls\ndreven zij een geheel leger op de vlugt met deze hellebaarden, en\nscherpe stokken, die zij in den loop hunner geweren staken. Dit belette\nechter niet, dat zij soms door een overgroot aantal omringd werden en in\ngroot gevaar voor hunne pijlen waren; tot zij eindelijk bedachten groote\nhouten schilden te maken, die zij met dierenhuiden overtrokken, en deze\nbeschermden hen voor de pijlen der wilden. Desniettemin kwamen zij soms\nin groot gevaar, en eens was dan vijf hunner door de houten knuppels der\nwilden nedergeveld, hetwelk op dat tijdstip was, dat een hunner gevangen\nwerd genomen, namelijk de Spanjaard, dien ik verloste, en welke zij\neerst dachten, dat gesneuveld was, maar toen zij naderhand hoorden, dat\nhij gevangen was, waren zij er allerbitterst bedroefd over, en hadden\ngaarne allen hun leven op het spel gezet om hem te verlossen.\nZij verhaalden mij, dat toen de vijf zoo ter aarde stortten, hunne\noverige makkers hen ontzetten, en om hen heen staande, bleven vechten\ntot allen bijgekomen waren, behalve de een, die men dacht dat dood was;\nen toen sloegen zij, digt aaneengesloten, zich door een troep van meer\ndan duizend wilden heen, dreven alles voor zich uit wat hen in den weg\nkwam, en behaalden de overwinning, doch tot hun groot verdriet, omdat\ndie gekocht was met het verlies van hunnen vriend, welke de anderen, die\nnog leven in hem vonden, medevoerden, met eenige wilden, gelijk ik\nvroeger verhaald heb.\nAandoenlijk was hunne beschrijving van de vreugde, die zij smaakten bij\nde terugkomst van hunnen vriend en deelgenoot in hun lijden, dien zij\ndoor wilde dieren van de ergste soort, namelijk door kannibalen,\nverslonden waanden, en hoe zij nog meer verrast werden door zijne\nmededeeling van het doel zijner komst, en dat er een Christen op een\neiland in de nabijheid woonde, niet alleen, maar ook een, die in staat\nen menschlievend genoeg was om tot hunne bevrijding mede te werken.\nVervolgens beschreven zij hoe verbaasd zij stonden, toen zij den\nvoorraad zagen, dien ik hun toegezonden had, en vooral de stukken brood,\ndat zij sedert hunne komst op die rampzalige plaats niet gezien hadden;\nhoe dikwijls zij het kruisten en zegenden, als eene gave des Hemels, en\nhoe het hun aller moed opbeurde, toen zij het proefden; even als het\noverige, dat ik hun gezonden had. En vervolgens verhaalden zij mij van\nhunne vreugde bij het zien van eene boot en van een loods, om hen te\nbrengen naar den persoon en de plaats, vanwaar die giften kwamen; doch\ndit, zeiden zij, konden zij met geene woorden uitdrukken, want hunne\nbovenmatige vreugde dreef hun tot buitensporige blijken daarvan aan,\nwaarvan zij alleen konden vermelden, dat zij gevaar hadden geloopen van\nhun verstand er bij te verliezen, daar zij niet wisten hoe zij hunne\nvreugde lucht zouden geven. Bij de eene openbaarde zich dat op deze, bij\nde ander op gene wijze; sommigen barstten in hunne eerste verrukking in\ntranen uit, anderen waren half zinneloos en anderen vielen in zwijm. Dit\nverhaal trof mij uitermate en herinnerde mij Vrijdags verrukking, toen\nhij zijnen vader terug vond, en de buitensporigheden van het arme\nscheepsvolk, dat ik op zee opnam, toen hun schip in brand stond; de\nvreugde van den kapitein, toen hij zich bevrijd zag op de plaats, waar\nhij dacht te sterven, en mijne eigene blijdschap, toen ik na eene\nachtentwintigjarige gevangenschap een goed schip gereed zag, om mij naar\nmijn vaderland te voeren. Al deze zaken maakten het verhaal van deze\narme lieden voor mij te treffender.\nNa aldus den staat van zaken, zoo als ik die vond, medegedeeld te\nhebben, moet ik vermelden wat ik voor deze lieden deed, en hoe ik hen\nachter liet. Zij waren met mij van gevoelen, dat zij niet meer door de\nwilden verontrust zouden worden, of dat, als het gebeurde, zij hen\nzouden afslaan, al waren zij ook tweemaal zoo sterk als vroeger; dus\nbaarde hun dit geen zorg. Daarop had ik een ernstig onderhoud met den\nSpaanschen gouverneur over hun verder verblijf op het eiland, want daar\nik niet gekomen was om eenigen hunner af te halen, zou het onregtvaardig\ngeweest zijn sommigen mede te nemen en anderen achter te laten, die tot\ndit laatste misschien ongenegen zouden zijn als hunne magt verminderd\nwerd. Aan den anderen kant zeide ik hem, dat ik gekomen was niet om hen\nvandaar te voeren, maar om hen daar te vestigen, en dat ik een aantal\ngoederen van allerlei aard voor hen medegebragt had, en geen geld\nontzien om hun zoo wel van het noodige als wat tot hun gemak dienen kon,\nte voorzien, en dat ik deze en die lieden bij mij had, zoo wel om hun\naantal te vermeerderen, als om de beroepen, waartoe zij opgeleid waren,\nen waardoor zij hun konden bijstaan in die dingen, die hun thans\nmoeijelijk vielen. Zij waren allen bijeen, toen ik hun aldus toesprak,\nen alvorens ik hun de medegebragte goederen overgaf, vroeg ik hun een\nvoor een af of zij geheel en al hunne vroegere vijandelijkheden vergeten\nen uitgedelgd hadden, en elkander de hand wilden geven en strikte\nvriendschap zweren, zoo dat er noch oneenigheid, noch naijver tusschen\nhen heerschte.\nWillem Atkins zeide met veel openhartigheid en opgeruimdheid, dat zij\ngenoeg tegenspoeden hadden geleden om hen allen bezadigd, en genoeg\nvijanden aangetroffen om hen allen tot vrienden te maken; dat hij, wat\nhem betreft, met hen wilde leven en sterven, en wel verre van eenigen\nwrok tegen de Spanjaarden te hebben, bekennen moest, dat zij hem alleen\nbehandeld hadden, gelijk zijn kwaad karakter hem noodzaakte, en hij zelf\nin hun geval zou gedaan hebben, zoo al niet meer; en hij wilde hen om\nverschooning vragen, als zij het verlangden, voor zijne dwaze en\nonbescheiden handelwijze jegens hen; en zeer gaarne met hen in de\nbeste vriendschap en eendragt leven, en alles doen wat hij kon, om hen\nhiervan te overtuigen. Het was hem wijders onverschillig of hij in de\neerste twintig jaren naar Engeland ging of niet.\nDe Spanjaarden zeiden, dat zij wel eerst Willem Atkins en zijne makkers\nom hun wangedrag ontwapend en verjaagd hadden, gelijk zij mij verhaald\nhadden, en mij zelf lieten oordeelen of dit niet noodig geweest was.\nMaar Willem Atkins had zich in het gevecht met de wilden en later\nmeermalen zoo goed gedragen en zoo voor het algemeen welzijn zich in de\nbres gesteld, dat zij al het verledene vergeten hadden, en hem met\nwapens en andere noodwendigheden voorzien, gelijk ieder ander, en hem\nhun vertrouwen getoond, door hem onder den gouverneur het bevel op te\ndragen. Niet alleen stelden zij thans een volkomen vertrouwen in hem en\nzijne landslieden, maar zij erkenden ook, dat deze dat vertrouwen op\nallerlei wijzen getoond hadden te verdienen. Eene allerhartelijkste\nomhelzing bevestigde van weerszijden deze verklaringen.\nNa deze openhartige vriendschapsbetuigingen besloten wij allen den\nvolgenden dag een vriendschappelijken maaltijd te houden. Ik liet\ndaartoe den kok en zijn maat van boord halen, en de gewezen koksmaat\nhielp hen. Wij bragten zes stukken ossenvleesch en vier zijden spek van\nhet schip, met onze punschkom en wat er vereischt werd om die te vullen;\nen bovendien gaf ik hun tien flesschen rooden wijn en tien flesschen\nEngelsch bier; hetgeen noch de Spanjaards, noch de Engelschen vele jaren\ngeproefd hadden, en hun dus uiterst aangenaam was. De Spanjaarden\nvoegden daarbij vijf geiten, die de kok braadde, en waarvan ik drie naar\nboord zond aan de matrozen, ten einde deze zich aan versch vleesch\nkonden vergasten, gelijk wij aan gezouten deden.\nNa den maaltijd waren wij onschuldig vrolijk; ik haalde mijne goederen\nte voorschijn, en wees hun, om allen twist te vermijden, dat er voor\nallen genoeg was, en verlangde, dat zij ieder evenveel zouden hebben,\nnamelijk als het tot kleedingstukken gemaakt was. Eerst deelde ik genoeg\nlinnen uit, dat ieder vier hemden had, en op het verzoek der Spanjaarden\nvermeerderde ik dit tot zes. Deze waren hun uiterst aangenaam, want zij\nhadden sedert lang vergeten wat het was een hemd te dragen. Ik bepaalde,\ndat ieder zooveel dun laken zou hebben als voor een kiel genoeg was, dat\nde beste dragt in dit klimaat was, als zijnde ruim en luchtig. Ik zeide,\ndat als zij versleten waren, zij uit den voorraad nieuwe konden maken,\nen even zoo met de schoenen, kousen, hoeden, enz.\nIk kan niet zeggen hoeveel genoegen op het gelaat dezer arme lieden te\nlezen stond, toen zij zagen hoe ik voor hen gezorgd had. Zij zeiden, dat\nik een vader voor hen was, en dat met een correspondent als ik, zij zich\nniet vergeten geloofden in dezen afgelegen hoek der wereld. En allen\nbeloofden mij vrijwillig de plaats niet zonder mijne toestemming te\nverlaten.\nDaarop stelde ik hun de lieden voor, die ik medegebragt had, zoo als den\nkleedermaker, den smid en de twee timmerlieden; maar bovenal mijn\nduizendkunstenaar, wien zij niets konden noemen daar hij tegen opzag. De\nkleedermaker ging, om zijne gewilligheid te toonen, dadelijk aan het\nwerk om voor ieder een hemd te maken, en leerde de vrouwen daarbij met\nde naald omgaan, en deed zich door haar helpen. Dat de timmerlieden\nnuttig waren, behoef ik ook niet te zeggen; zij namen dadelijk al het\nlompe onhandige huisraad onderhanden, en maakten knappe tafels, stoelen,\nbedsteden, kasten, planken, en al wat zij van dien aard noodig hadden.\nMaar eerst wilde ik hen laten zien hoe knappe kunstenaars uit zichzelve\niets kunnen doen, en nam hen mede naar Willem Atkins manden huis, gelijk\nik het noemde; en beiden verzekerden nimmer zulk een vernuftig werkstuk\ngezien te hebben, noch iets wat in zijne soort zoo regelmatig en knap\ngebouwd was. Een hunner, na er lang op gestaard te hebben, zeide tot\nmij: \"Gij kunt er op aan, dat die man ons niet noodig heeft; gij behoeft\nhem slechts gereedschap te geven.\"\nVervolgens bragt ik al mijne gereedschappen aan wal, en gaf iedereen een\nspade, een schop en een hark, want wij hadden geene eggen of ploegen; en\nvoor iedere plantaadje een houweel, een breekijzer en een dissel; met\nbepaling, dat als een daarvan brak of versleten was, deze dadelijk\nzonder misnoegen uit den algemeenen voorraad aangevuld moest worden.\nSpijkers, krammen, hengsels, hamers, beitels, messen, scharen en\nallerlei gereedschappen en ijzerwerk ontving ieder ongeteld zooveel hij\nnoodig had, want niemand verlangde meer dan hij gebruiken kon. Voor den\nsmid liet ik twee ton onbewerkt ijzer achter.\nMijn voorraad van kruid en wapens, dien ik hun medebragt, was zoo groot,\ndat zij er verrukt van stonden; want nu konden zij, gelijk ik gewoon\nwas, met een geweer op ieder schouder uitgaan, en wel duizend wilden het\nhoofd bieden, zoo zij slechts eene niet onvoordeelige standplaats kozen,\ngelijk zij altijd gemakkelijk doen konden.\nIk had den jongeling mede naar den wal genomen, wiens moeder van honger\ngestorven was, en ook de dienstmaagd. Deze laatste was een zedig,\nwelopgevoed, godsdienstig meisje, dat zich zoo innemend gedroeg, dat\niedereen haar gaarne lijden mogt. Zij leidde onder ons een onaangenaam\nleven, daar zij de eenigste vrouw aan boord was, maar droeg dit met\ngeduld. Na eenigen tijd, toen zij alles op mijn eiland zoo goed geordend\nen bloeijend zag, en bedacht, dat zij in Oost-Indi\u00eb niets te verrigten\nen geene bekenden hadden, kwamen beide mij verlof vragen op het eiland\nte blijven bij mijn huisgezin, gelijk zij het noemden. Ik stemde\ngereedelijk hierin toe, en hun werd een stuk lands aangewezen, waar drie\nhuizen of tenten opgeslagen werden met vlechtwerk, gelijk die van Atkins\nverschanst, en aan zijne plantaadje grenzende. Deze tenten waren zoo\ningerigt, dat aan weerszijden een slaapvertrek was, en in het midden\neene groote kamer of schuur om hunne goederen in te bewaren en te eten\nen te drinken. En daar de twee andere Engelschen hunne woning naar\ndezelfde plaats verlegden, zoo bleven er slechts drie kolonies op het\neiland, en niet meer; namelijk die van de Spanjaards met den ouden\nVrijdag en hunne drie slaven, in mijne oude woning aan den heuvel, dat\ninderdaad eene uitmuntende stad was, welker vestingwerken zij zoo wel\naan de binnen- als buitenzijde der heuvels uitgebreid hadden, zoodat zij\nzoo wel veilig als in de ruimte woonden. Nimmer zag men zulk een stadje\nin een bosch, of ergens ter wereld, geloof ik, zoo verborgen. Duizend\nman hadden het eiland eene maand lang kunnen doorzoeken, en zoo zij niet\ngeweten hadden, dat het bestond, zouden zij het niet gevonden hebben,\nwant de boomen stonden zoo digt opeen, en waren zoo door elkander\ngegroeid, dat men ze eerst moest vellen om de plaats te naderen, behalve\ndoor twee naauwe ingangen, die niet gemakkelijk te ontdekken waren; de\neen kwam vlak aan het water uit, wel tweehonderd schreden van de plaats,\nen de ander was de reeds beschreven ladder, en de plaats, waar deze\nuitkwam, was ook digt met hout begroeid.\nDe tweede kolonie, die van Atkins, bestond uit vier Engelschen, die ik\ndaar vroeger achtergelaten had, met hunne vrouwen en kinderen; drie\nslaven, de weduwe en kinderen van den gedooden Engelschman, de jongeling\nen de kamenier, die wij ook voor ons vertrek uittrouwden. Daar woonden\nook de twee timmerlieden, de kleedermaker en de smid, die vooral zeer\nnuttig was voor hunne geweren, en mijn duizendkunstenaar, die alleen zoo\nveel kon als twintig man, en iedereen door zijne grappen opbeurde. Wij\ntrouwden hem uit aan de kamenier, die met den jongeling met ons aan wal\ngegaan was. Dit trouwen brengt mij natuurlijk op den Franschen\ngeestelijke, dien ik van het brandende schip verlost had. De man was\nzeker Roomschgezind, en in de oogen van sommigen zal het vreemd zijn,\ndat ik met zoo veel lof van hem gewaag. Maar om hem regt te laten\nwedervaren, moet ik zeggen, dat hij een ernstig, bedaard, vroom en\ngodsdienstig man was, onberispelijk van zeden, liefderijk van aard en\neen voorbeeld in al wat hij deed. Wie kan mij laken, dat ik de waarde\nbesef van zulk een man, onverschillig of zijn geloof al dan niet het\nmijne was.\nHet eerste gesprek, dat ik met hem had, nadat wij bepaald hadden, dat\nhij mede naar Oost-Indi\u00eb zou gaan, was mij uiterst aangenaam.\n\"Mijnheer,\" zeide hij, \"gij hebt niet alleen naast God mij het leven\ngered, maar mij toegestaan deze reis met u te doen; mijn gewaad toont u\nmijn geloof, en aan uwe natie kan ik het uwe gissen. Ik mag het als mijn\npligt beschouwen, gelijk het ongetwijfeld is, te allen tijde mijn\nuiterste best te doen, alle zielen tot de kennis der waarheid en de\naanneming van het Roomsche geloof over te halen; maar daar ik hier met\nuwe toestemming, en als het ware in uw huisgezin mij bevind, eischt zoo\nwel de kieschheid als de billijkheid, dat ik mij naar uw verlangen\nschik, en ik zal derhalve niet zonder uwe toestemming over\ngodsdienstpunten spreken, waarin wij niet overeenstemmen.\"\nIk antwoordde, dat ik getroffen was over de kieschheid van zijn gedrag;\ndat wij, wel is waar, tot degenen behoorden, die men elders Ketter\nnoemt, maar dat hij niet de eerste Katholijke priester was, met wien ik\nvriendschappelijk verkeerd had, en zonder dat onze verschillende\nmeeningen kwaad bloed zetten. Ik verzekerde hem, dat hij niet minder zou\nbehandeld worden om dat zijn geloof van het mijne verschilde, en dat zoo\ner uit dien hoofde ongenoegen tusschen ons rees, het mijne schuld niet\nzijn zou.\nHij zeide, dat zijns inziens niets gemakkelijker was dan te spreken\nzonder te twisten, en hij niet met ieder, dien hij aantrof, over\ngeloofspunten behoefde te twisten, en liever als een welopgevoed man met\nmij wilde verkeeren. Wilde ik later met hem over zaken van godsdienst\nspreken, dit zou hem aangenaam zijn, maar dan moest ik hem vrij laten\nzijne meeningen te verdedigen zoo goed hij kon, doch zonder mijne\ntoestemming zou dit niet gebeuren. Hij zeide verder, dat hij daarom niet\nnalaten zou alles te doen wat zijn pligt als priester en Christen van\nhem eischte, ten beste van het schip en scheepsvolk; en schoon wij\nmisschien niet in zijn gebed konde instemmen, hoopte hij toch voor ons\nte bidden.--Aldus spraken wij veel, en hij was niet alleen een man van\neen allerbeschaafdst gedrag, maar ook van gezond verstand, en ik geloof\nook zeer geleerd.\nHij gaf mij een zeer belangrijk verhaal van zijn leven, gedurende de\nweinige jaren, dat hij in de wereld rondzwierf, vooral was het\nmerkwaardig, dat hij op zijne tegenwoordige reis vijf malen van schip en\nbestemming veranderd was. Eerst was hij te St. Malo op een schip, naar\nMartinique bestemd, gegaan, doch toen zij door storm Lissabon moesten\ninloopen, hadden zij bij het opzeilen van de Taag gestooten, en moeten\nlossen. Hij vond een schip zeilree liggen naar Madera, waar hij aan\nboord ging, denkende ligtelijk een schip naar Martinique te zullen\nontmoeten, maar de Portugesche kapitein, die een bedroefd zeeman was,\ngeraakte zijn bestek kwijt en belandde te Fial, waar hij echter zijne\nlading zeer goed afzette, en dus besloot niet naar Madera te gaan, maar\nzout op het eiland Mai in te laden, en vandaar naar Newfoundland te\nverzeilen. Hij was genoodzaakt mede te gaan, en had eene vrij gunstige\nreis tot aan de banken, waar hij een Fransch schip ontmoette, dat naar\nQuebec en vandaar naar Martinique bestemd was; hiermede dacht hij zijne\nbestemming te bereiken, maar de kapitein stierf en het schip bleef daar.\nDaarop ging hij naar Frankrijk scheep in het schip, dat verbrandde, en\nging toen bij ons aan boord om mede naar Oost-Indi\u00eb te gaan. Aldus had\nhij vijf mislukte reizen gedaan op slechts eene reis als het ware.\nDoch ik wil niet uitweiden over andere lotgevallen, die niet tot de\nmijne betrekking hebben, en keer tot ons eiland terug. Hij vertoefde al\ndien tijd op het eiland onder ons, en kwam op een morgen bij mij, juist\ntoen ik de kolonie der Engelschen, die het verst af lag, wilde bezoeken.\nHij zeide mij met een zeer ernstig gelaat, dat hij twee of drie dagen\nlang eene gelegenheid gezocht had tot een onderhoud met mij, hetwelk hij\nhoopte, dat mij niet onaangenaam zou zijn, omdat het, naar zijne\nmeening, eenigzins met mijn oogmerk strooken zou, namelijk den voorspoed\nvan mijne kolonie, en om op deze, misschien meer dan thans, Gods zegen\nverwerven.\nIk was door dit laatste eenigzins verrast, en zeide levendig: \"Hoe,\nmijnheer, denkt gij dat Gods zegen niet op ons rust, na zulken bijstand\nen wonderbare redding, als ik u gisteren breedvoerig verhaald\nheb?\"--\"Zoo gij de goedheid gehad hadt, mijnheer, mij te laten\nuitspreken,\" zeide hij zeer zachtaardig en toch zeer levendig, \"zoudt\ngij niet misnoegd op mij geweest zijn, althans mij niet verdacht hebben,\ndat ik niet geloofde, dat God u beschermd had. Ik vertrouw ook, dat Gods\nzegen op u rust; want uwe oogmerken zijn nuttig en heilzaam. Maar,\"\nvervolgde hij, \"al waren zij dit nog meer dan u zelfs mogelijk is, zoo\nkunnen er toch eenigen onder u zijn, die niet even regtvaardig handelen,\nen gij weet uit de geschiedenis der kinderen Isra\u00ebls, dat de zonde van\nAchan de goddelijke straf op zesendertig anderen deed nederdalen, en\nGods toorn tegen hen verwekte.\"\nIk werd hierdoor zeer getroffen, en zeide hem, dat zijne bedoelingen mij\nzoo welgemeend toeschenen, dat het mij speet, dat ik hem gestoord had,\nen hem verzocht voort te gaan. Tevens zeide ik hem, dat ik naar de\nplantaadje der Engelschen wilde gaan, en verzocht hem mede te wandelen,\nen mij onder weg mede te deelen wat hij te zeggen had. Hij zeide mij,\ndat hij mij gaarne wilde vergezellen, omdat hij mij juist over dezen\nwilde spreken. Dus wandelden wij voort, en ik verzocht hem rondborstig\nen openhartig met mij te spreken.\n\"Welnu dan, mijnheer,\" zeide hij, \"laat mij u eerst eenige\ngrondstellingen openleggen, als beginselen, waarop hetgeen berust, wat\nik u zeggen wilde, ten einde daaromtrent geen verschil te hebben, schoon\nvrij in de beoefening van sommige bijzonderheden mogten verschillen.\nEerstelijk, mijnheer, schoon vrij in sommige punten van godsdienst\nverschillen, en dit vooral in dit geval, gelijk ik u nader aantoonen\nzal, zeer ongelukkig is, zijn er echter eenige punten waaromtrent wij\novereenstemmen. In de eerste plaats gelooven wij beide, dat er een God\nis, en dat deze ons eenige vaste regelen, om hem te dienen en te\ngehoorzamen, gegeven heeft, en dat wij die niet opzettelijk mogen\novertreden, hetzij door zijne geboden te veronachtzamen of te doen wat\ndeze verbieden. En hoedanig ook ons geloof moge zijn, gereedelijk\nerkennen wij allen, dat Gods zegen gewoonlijk niet volgt op eene\nopzettelijke overtreding zijner geboden, en ieder goed Christen zal\nijverig trachten anderen te beletten, die onder zijne hoede zijn, dat\nzij God en zijne geboden geheel veronachtzamen. Dat uwe landslieden\nProtestanten zijn, ontslaat mij niet van de bezorgdheid voor hunne ziel,\nen van mijn pligt, om te trachten, als het mij mogelijk is, dat zij\nhunnen Schepper zoo min beleedigen als mogelijk; vooral als gij mij\ntoestaat mij in deze zaken te mengen.\"\nIk begreep zijne bedoeling nog niet, maar stemde alles toe wat hij\ngezegd had, en dankte hem voor zijne zorg voor ons welzijn, en verzocht\nhem mij zijne meening nader uiteen te zetten.\n\"Welnu dan, mijnheer,\" zeide hij, \"ik zal van uw verlof gebruik maken,\nen er zijn drie dingen, die, als ik wel heb, Gods zegen op uwe pogingen\nmoeten beletten, en die ik om uwent en hunnent wil gaarne uit den weg\ngeruimd zou zien. En ik vertrouw, dat gij met mij zult instemmen als ik\nze u opnoem, vooral als ik u aantoon, dat zij gemakkelijk en naar uw\ngenoegen hersteld kunnen worden. Eerstelijk hebt gij hier vier\nEngelschen, die onder de wilden vrouwen genomen hebben, en ieder\nverscheidene kinderen hebben, zonder aan haar gehuwd te zijn, op\neenigerlei wijze, gelijk Goddelijke en menschelijke wetten vereischen,\nen die derhalve voor beide in overspel leven. Gij zult hiertegen\naanvoeren, dat er geenerlei geestelijke was om de plegtigheid te\nvolbrengen, noch zelfs pen, inkt of papier, om eene trouwbelofte of\nhuwelijkscontract aan te gaan of te teekenen. En ik weet ook wat u de\nSpaansche gouverneur verhaald heeft, namelijk van de verbindtenis\ntusschen hen, dat ieder zijne eigene vrouw zou houden. Dit is echter\ngeheel geen huwelijk, geen overeenkomst tusschen hen en hunne vrouwen,\nmaar alleen eene onderlinge verbindtenis om twisten te voorkomen. Maar\nde hoofdzaak van het huwelijk bestaat niet alleen in de onderlinge\ntoestemming van beide partijen, om elkander tot man en vrouw te nemen,\nmaar in de plegtige en wettige verbindtenis, die man en vrouw verpligt\nelkander te allen tijde als zoodanig te erkennen, de mannen verbiedt met\neenige andere vrouw eene verbindtenis aan te gaan, zoo lang deze leeft,\nen gelast bij alle gelegenheid voor haar en hare kinderen te zorgen; en\nde vrouwen dezelfde of soortgelijke pligten oplegt.\"\n\"Maar nu, mijnheer, kunnen deze mannen, als zij goedvinden, of de\ngelegenheid zich opdoet, deze vrouwen verlaten, hunne kinderen verzaken,\naan het gebrek ten prooi geven, en andere vrouwen ten huwelijk nemen,\nterwijl deze nog leven.\" En met eenige warmte vervolgde hij: \"Hoe,\nmijnheer, wordt God door deze ongeoorloofde losbandigheid ge\u00eberd? En hoe\nzal zijn zegen op uwe ondernemingen alhier nederdalen, hoe goed die op\nzich zelve, en hoe welgemeend uwe oogmerken zijn, terwijl deze lieden,\ndie thans uwe onderdanen zijn, en onder uwe volstrekte heerschappij\nstaan, met uw goedvinden, in openlijk overspel leven?\"\nIk moet bekennen, dat de zaak zelf mij trof, maar nog veel meer de\nkrachtige redenen, die hij bijbragt; want het was waar, dat, hoewel er\ngeen geestelijke aanwezig was, een plegtig contract, voor getuigen\nopgemaakt en bevestigd door een of ander teeken, al ware het slechts\ndoor het breken van een stok, waardoor deze lieden zich verpligtten deze\nvrouwen te allen tijde voor hunne echtgenooten te erkennen, en haar noch\nhare kinderen ooit te verlaten; en de vrouwen desgelijks van haren kant,\neen wettig huwelijk voor God zou geweest zijn, en dat het zeer te laken\nwas, dat het niet geschied was.\nIk dacht den jongen priester tevreden te stellen door de opmerking, dat\ndit geschied was, terwijl ik niet hier was, en dat zij nu zoo vele jaren\nzoo geleefd hadden, dat, al ware het overspel, dit toch thans niet meer\nte herstellen was, en er thans niets aan te doen viel.\n\"Gij hebt in zoo verre gelijk, mijnheer,\" zeide hij, \"dat het u niet tot\nverwijt kan strekken, daar het in uwe afwezigheid geschied is. Maar ik\nsmeek u, denk niet, dat gij daarom thans niet verpligt zoudt zijn dit te\ndoen ophouden. Hoe kunt gij anders denken, dan dat voor het toekomende\nal het misdadige daarvan ten uwen laste zal komen, al zijt gij aan het\nverledene onschuldig, daar het thans in uwe magt staat het te doen\nophouden, en in niemands magt anders.\"\nIk begreep hem nog niet geheel, maar verbeeldde mij, dat hij bedoelde,\ndoor een eind er aan te maken, dat ik hen van elkander zou scheiden, en\nniet toelaten, dat zij langer met elkander leefden; en ik zeide hem,\ndat ik dit volstrekt niet doen kon, want dat het geheele eiland hierdoor\nin verwarring zou geraken. Hij scheen verwonderd, dat ik hem zoo\nverkeerd kon begrijpen. \"Neen mijnheer,\" zeide hij, \"ik bedoel niet, dat\ngij hen zoudt scheiden, maar hen wettig laten huwen. En daar mijne wijze\nvan een huwelijk in te zegenen hen misschien niet zou aanstaan, schoon\ndit zelfs naar uwe landswetten verbindend zou zijn, zoo kunt gij dit\neven goed voor God en even wettig voor de menschen doen; ik meen door\neene schriftelijke verbindtenis, onder getuigen, die bij alle regtbanken\nin Europa geldig zal geacht worden.\"\nIk was getroffen door zooveel echte godsvrucht, en zoo opregten ijver\naan te treffen, bij zulke treffende onpartijdigheid omtrent zijne kerk,\nen zulke vurige belangstelling, om lieden, die hij niet kende of eenige\nbetrekking op had, voor overtreding van Gods wetten te bewaren; welks\ngelijken ik nimmer ontmoet had. Doch toen ik overwoog wat hij van een\nschriftelijk contract gezegd had, antwoordde ik, dat ik alles wat hij\ngezegd had toestemde, als zeer regtvaardig en zeer liefderijk van hem,\nen dat ik er met de mannen over spreken zou. Ik zag geene reden waarom\nzij door hem zich niet zouden laten trouwen, hetwelk in Engeland even\ngeldig zou geacht worden, alsof een Engelsch geestelijke het gedaan had.\nLater zal ik verhalen hoe wij dit schikten.\nVervolgens vroeg ik hem naar de tweede reden tot klagten; terwijl ik\nmijne verpligting voor de eerste jegens hem erkende, en er hem hartelijk\nvoor dank zeide. Hij zeide even rondborstig en vrij met mij daarover te\nzullen spreken; het was dat, niettegenstaande deze mijne Engelsche\nonderdanen, gelijk hij ze noemde, nu bijkans zeven jaren met deze\nvrouwen geleefd hadden, en haar Engelsch hadden leeren spreken, en zelfs\nlezen, en zij, naar hij opgemerkt had, vrij bevattelijke en verstandige\nvrouwen waren, dat zij nog tot op dit oogenblik haar niets van de\nChristelijke godsdienst geleerd hadden, zelfs niet zooveel, dat er een\nGod was, of eene eerdienst, of hoe God gediend worden moet, of dat hare\neigene afgoderij en aanbidding van zij wisten zelf niet wat, valsch en\nongerijmd was. Bat was, zeide hij, eene onverschoonbare achteloosheid,\ndie zij voor God zouden moeten verantwoorden. Hij vervolgde met veel\nvuur: \"Ik ben overtuigd, dat zoo deze lieden in het land woonden,\nvanwaar hunne vrouwen gekomen zijn, de wilden meer moeite zouden gedaan\nhebben om hen tot afgodendienaars en duivelaanbidders te maken, dan een\nhunner, zoo ver ik zien kan, gedaan heeft, om de kennis van den eenigen\nwaren God te verspreiden. En ofschoon, mijnheer, uw geloof en het mijne\nverschillend zijn, zouden wij echter beide gaarne aan dienaren van het\nrijk des duivels de algemeene beginselen van de Christelijke leer zien\ningeprent; opdat zij ten minste van eenen God, van den Verlosser, van de\nopstanding en van een toekomstigen staat hoorden; zaken, waarin wij\nallen gelooven; dan zouden zij althans de ware kerk veel meer genaderd\nzijn dan thans in de openbare belijdenis der afgoderij en aanbidding des\nduivels.\"\nIk kon mij niet langer bedwingen; ik sloot hem in mijne armen en drukte\nhem met vervoering aan mijn hart. \"Hoe ver ben ik verwijderd van de\nkennis van eens Christens grootsten pligt, namelijk van de liefde voor\nChristus kerk en voor het geestelijk welzijn van anderen!\" riep ik uit.\n\"Ik weet naauwelijks wat een Christen betaamt!\"--\"O, zeg dat niet,\nmijnheer,\" zeide hij, \"deze zaak is uwe schuld niet.\"--\"Neen, neen,\"\nhernam ik, \"maar waarom nam ik ze niet zoo wel als gij ter harte?\"--\"Het\nis nog niet te laat,\" antwoordde hij, \"veroordeel u zelven niet te\noverijld.\"--\"Wat thans echter te doen?\" hernam ik, \"gij ziet, ik sta op\nmijn vertrek.\"--\"Wilt gij mij toestaan er met deze arme lieden over te\nspreken?\" vroeg hij.--\"Met al mijn hart,\" antwoordde ik, \"en ik zal\nzorgen, dat zij op uwe woorden acht geven.\"--Hij hernam: \"Dat moeten wij\naan de genade van Christus overlaten, maar het is onze pligt hen\nbehulpzaam te zijn, aan te moedigen en te onderrigten, en zoo gij het\nmij toestaat en God zijnen zegen geeft, twijfel ik niet of de arme\nonwetende zielen zullen tot het rijk van Christus gebragt worden, tot\nhet geloof, dat wij allen belijden, en dat nog terwijl gij hier\nzijt.\"--\"Ik zal u niet alleen verlof, maar ook den hartelijksten dank\ndaarvoor geven,\" zeide ik. Ook hiervan zal ik den uitslag mededeelen.\nNu vroeg ik hem naar het derde punt, waarin wij te laken waren, \"Het is\nvan gelijken aard,\" zeide hij, \"en ik zal het, met uw verlof, even\nrondborstig openleggen. Het betreft gindsche wilden, die, als ik mij zoo\nuitdrukken mag, uwe overwonnen onderdanen zijn. Het is eene\ngrondstelling, mijnheer! die alle Christenen, tot welke kerk zij ook\nbehooren, erkennen of behooren te erkennen, dat de kennis van het\nChristendom door alle mogelijke middelen en bij elke gelegenheid behoort\nte worden uitgebreid. Van dit beginsel uitgaande, zendt onze kerk\nzendelingen naar Perzi\u00eb, Indi\u00eb en China, en zelfs onze hoogere\ngeestelijken begeven zich gewillig op de gevaarlijkste togten en in de\ngevaarlijkste verblijven onder moordenaars en barbaren, om hun de kennis\nvan den waren God te leeren en tot het Christelijk geloof over te halen.\nNu hebt gij hier, mijnheer! eene zoodanige gelegenheid, om zes- of\nzevenendertig wilden van de afgoderij tot de kennis van hunnen Schepper\nen Verlosser te brengen, dat het mij verwondert, dat gij zulk eene\ngelegenheid, om goed te doen, kunt laten voorbijgaan, welke waarlijk de\nbelooning voor een geheel leven zou uitmaken.\"\nIk was nu inderdaad verstomd en wist geen woord in te brengen. Ik zag\nhier voor mij een Christen vol waren ijver voor God en de godsdienst,\nwat dan ook zijne bijzondere geloofsbelijdenis was; en ik had zelfs geen\noogenblik hier ooit aan gedacht, en zou er, geloof ik, nooit aan gedacht\nhebben, want ik beschouwde die wilden als slaven, die wij zoo behandeld\nzouden hebben, als wij er eenig werk voor gehad hadden, of gaarne\nverkocht en naar een ander werelddeel gezonden hebben; zoo wij slechts\nvan hen ontslagen werden en zij niet naar hun eigen land konden\nterugkeeren. Maar ik moet bekennen, dat zijne woorden mij verstomd deden\nstaan en ik niet wist, wat ik zeggen zou. Hij zag mij ernstig aan, en\nmij eenigzins verbijsterd ziende, zeide hij: \"Het zou mij spijten,\nmijnheer! als gij misnoegd waart over iets wat ik gezegd heb.\"--\"Neen,\nneen,\" antwoordde ik, \"ik ben alleen misnoegd op mijzelven; en ik ben\ngeheel verslagen, dat ik er vroeger niet alleen niet aan dacht, maar dat\nik ook nu niet weet wat ik er nu aan doen kan. Gij weet,\" vervolgde ik,\n\"in welke omstandigheden ik mij bevond. Ik moet naar de Oost-Indi\u00ebn, met\neen schip, welks reeders ik groot nadeel toebreng, met het schip hier op\nte houden, terwijl het volk al dien tijd voor rekening van de reeders\nkomt. Wel is waar, wij zijn overeengekomen, dat ik hier twaalf dagen zou\nblijven, en dat ik voor ieder dag daar boven drie pond sterl. als\nliggeld per dag zou betalen. Maar ik mag niet langer dan acht dagen op\nliggeld blijven liggen, en ik ben nu reeds dertien dagen hier; zoodat\nhet mij volstrekt onmogelijk is iets hieraan te doen, of ik moest zelf\nhier achterblijven; en als dan dit schip op reis verging, zou ik in\ndenzelfden toestand zijn, als toen ik hier het eerst kwam, en waaruit ik\nzoo wonderbaarlijk verlost ben.\"\nHij bekende, dat dit zeer hard voor mij was, maar drukte mij op het\nhart, of niet het geluk van zevenendertig zielen te redden, verdiende,\ndat ik daarvoor alles wat ik in de wereld had, in de waagschaal stelde.\nDit wilde er bij mij nog zoo niet in, en ik antwoordde: \"Zeker,\nmijnheer! is het een onwaardeerbaar geluk, in Gods hand het werktuig te\nzijn, om zevenendertig heidenen tot de kennis van Christus te brengen.\nMaar daar gij een geestelijke zijt en daarvoor opgebragt, zoodat het,\nals het ware, uw beroep is, hoe komt het, dat gij het niet liever zelf\nonderneemt, dan het van mij te eischen?\"\nHierop bleef hij vlak voor mij staan, en maakte eene diepe buiging voor\nmij. \"Ik dank allerhartelijkst God en u, mijnheer!\" zeide hij, \"voor\nzulk eene blijkbare roeping tot eene zoo gezegende onderneming, en zoo\ngij er u van ontslagen acht en het van mij verlangt, wil ik het gaarne\ndoen, en het als eene ruime belooning beschouwen voor al de gevaren en\nmoeiten van mijne ongelukkige reis, dat mij eindelijk zulk eene\nheerlijke loopbaan geopend is.\" Terwijl hij sprak, zag ik eene zekere\nverrukking op zijn gelaat, zijne oogen fonkelden, zijn gelaat gloeide,\nhij werd beurtelings bleek en rood, kortom, hij was verrukt van vreugde\nover het werk, dat zich voor hem opdeed. Het duurde eene poos, eer ik\nwist, wat ik hem zeggen zou; want ik stond inderdaad verrast een man te\nvinden, zoo opregt en zoo vol ijver, en die zich door zijnen ijver zoo\nver liet vervoeren. Maar na eenig nadenken vroeg ik hem, of hij het\nernstig meende, en of hij op het vooruitzigt van deze arme lieden te\nbekeeren, het wagen wilde, zich misschien levenslang op een schraal\nbevolkt eiland te laten opsluiten, terwijl hij zelfs niet wist, of hij\nhun eenig goed kon doen of niet.\nHij zag mij verbaasd aan, en vroeg wat ik wagen noemde. \"Weet gij,\nmijnheer!\" vroeg hij, \"waarom ik met u naar de Indi\u00ebn wilde\ngaan?\"--\"Neen,\" zeide ik, \"ik weet dat niet, maar ik denk, om den\nIndianen te prediken.\"--\"Ongetwijfeld,\" hernam hij, \"en denkt gij, dat,\nals ik deze zevenendertig wilden tot het Christelijk geloof kan\nbekeeren, dat dan mijn tijd niet wel besteed is, al verliet ik nimmer\nhet eiland weder? Is het behouden van zoovelen niet oneindig meer waard\ndan mijn leven, ja, dat van twintig menschen als ik. Dagelijks,\"\nvervolgde hij, \"zou ik Christus en de H. Maagd danken, als ik het\ngezegend werktuig mogt zijn, om deze arme lieden te behouden, al zou ik\nnimmer het eiland verlaten, of mijn geboorteland wederzien. Maar daar\ngij mij de eer doet, mij dit werk op te dragen (waarvoor ik u al mijn\nleven dankbaar zal zijn), heb ik u nog een verzoek te doen.\"--\"Wat is\ndat?\" vroeg ik.--\"Dat gij,\" antwoordde hij, \"uw knecht Vrijdag hier bij\nmij laat, om mijn tolk en medehelper te zijn, daar ik hen en zij mij\nniet kunnen verstaan.\"\nDit verzoek was mij hoogst onaangenaam, want ik kon om verscheidene\nredenen niet aan eene scheiding van Vrijdag denken. Hij was mijn\nreisgezel geweest, hij was mij niet alleen getrouw, maar ook zeer\ngenegen, en ik had besloten, vrij wat voor hem te doen, als hij, gelijk\nte verwachten was, mij zou overleven. Bovendien, daar ik Vrijdag tot een\nProtestant had gemaakt, zou een ander geloof hem geheel verbijsteren, en\nzoolang hij leefde zou hij nimmer willen gelooven, dat zijn oude meester\neen ketter en een verdoemde was, en dit kon ten laatste hem weder tot\nzijne vroegere afgoderij brengen. Echter schoot mij iets te binnen, en\nik zeide hem, dat ik geenen lust had, mij van Vrijdag te ontdoen, schoon\nhet waar was, dat een werk, dat hem hooger dan zijn leven toescheen, bij\nmij zwaarder dan het behoud van eenen knecht moest wegen, maar aan den\nanderen kant wist ik, dat Vrijdag mij nimmer zou willen verlaten, en om\nhem tegen zijnen wil daartoe te dwingen, zou eene schandelijke\nonregtvaardigheid zijn, omdat ik hem het tegendeel beloofd had, gelijk\nhij beloofd had mij nimmer te zullen verlaten. Dit scheen hem te\nverontrusten, want hij kon onmogelijk met deze lieden omgaan, daar hij\nevenmin een woord van hen kon verstaan, als zij van hem. Deze zwarigheid\nruimde ik uit den weg, door te zeggen, dat Vrijdags vader Spaansch\ngeleerd had, dat hij ook verstond, en dus als tolk dienen kon. Thans was\nhij tevreden en niets kon hem overhalen, zijn voornemen ter bekeering\nder zevenendertig wilden op te geven. Doch de Hemel beschikte dit later\nanders.\nIk kom thans tot zijn eerste bezwaar terug. Toen wij bij de Engelschen\nkwamen, liet ik hen allen bijeenroepen, en na hen te hebben\nvoorgehouden, wat ik voor hen gedaan had, namelijk van welken voorraad\nik hen voorzien had, waarvoor zij zeer dankbaar waren, begon ik te\nspreken over het schandelijke leven, dat zij leidden, en verhaalde hen\njuist hoe de geestelijke het beschouwd had, en terwijl ik hen bewees hoe\nonchristelijk en goddeloos het was, doch vooraf vroeg ik hun of zij\ngehuwd of ongehuwd waren. Twee hunner waren weduwnaars en de anderen\nwaren ongehuwd. Ik vroeg hen, hoe zij met een goed geweten met deze\nvrouwen konden zamenwonen en zoovele kinderen bij haar hebben, zonder\ndat zij wettig met haar gehuwd waren.\nZij gaven allen ten antwoord, gelijk ik wel verwacht had, dat er niemand\nwas, die hen trouwen kon, dat zij zich voor den gouverneur verbonden\nhadden, haar steeds als hunne wettige vrouwen te zullen behandelen en\nbehouden, en zij vermeenden, dat zij in deze omstandigheden even wettig\nmet haar gehuwd waren, alsof het huwelijk door eenen geestelijke en met\nalle plegtigheden der wereld ingezegend was geworden. Ik antwoordde, dat\nzij ongetwijfeld voor God gehuwd waren, en voor hun geweten verpligt\nhaar als hunne vrouwen te beschouwen; maar dat de menschelijke wetten\nanders waren, dat zij later konden voorgeven niet gehuwd te zijn, en de\narme vrouwen en kinderen verlaten, en dat deze arme vrouwen, zonder\nbloedverwanten of geld, zichzelve niet door de wereld zouden kunnen\nhelpen. Ik zeide, dat ik derhalve niets voor hen doen kon, zonder\nverzekerd te zijn, dat zij het eerlijk meenden, maar dat ik zorgen zou\nalles te doen, wat ik kon, voor hunne vrouwen of kinderen buiten hen, en\ndat, ten ware zij mij blijken gaven, dat zij de vrouwen wilden trouwen,\nik het niet voegzaam oordeelde, dat zij als man en vrouw bleven\nvoortleven, want dat dit streed met alle goddelijke en menschelijke\nwetten, en zij, zoo voortgaande, niet op Gods zegen konden hopen.\nAlles ging zoo als ik verwacht had; zij zeiden mij, bijzonder Willem\nAtkins, die voor de anderen het woord scheen te voeren, dat zij hunne\nvrouwen zoo lief hadden, alsof zij hunne landgenooten waren, en dat zij\nhaar in geen geval zouden verlaten, en zij geloofden, dat hunne vrouwen\nzoo zedig en deugdzaam waren, en zoo veel voor hen en hunne kinderen\ndeden, als zij bij mogelijkheid konden. En Atkins voegde er bij, dat wat\nhem betrof, als iemand hem aanbood, om hem naar Engeland mede te nemen\nen daar kapitein van het beste schip uit de marine te maken, hij niet\nzou medegaan, als hij zijne vrouw en kinderen niet kon medenemen, en als\ner een geestelijke aan boord was, wilde hij zich dadelijk laten trouwen\nmet al zijn hart. Dit was juist wat ik wenschte. De priester was op dat\noogenblik niet bij mij, maar toch in de nabijheid; om hem verder op de\nproef te stellen, zeide ik, dat ik een geestelijke bij mij had, die, als\nhij het meende, hem den volgenden morgen zou trouwen, en verzocht hem er\nzich op te bedenken en er met de overigen over te spreken. Hij zeide,\ndat hij voor zich er zich niet op behoefde te bedenken, maar blijde was,\ndat ik een geestelijke aan boord had, en dat hij dacht, dat de anderen\nhet ook gaarne doen zouden. Ik zeide vervolgens, dat mijn vriend, de\ngeestelijke, een Franschman was, en geen Engelsch kon spreken, maar dat\nik als tolk zou handelen. Hij vroeg mij volstrekt niet of het een\nRoomsch of Protestantsch geestelijke was, waarvoor ik eigenlijk gevreesd\nhad, doch hij vroeg er niet naar, en ik vertrok daarop naar mijnen\npriester en Atkins naar zijne makkers. Ik verzocht den priester tegen\nhen nergens over te spreken voor de zaak haar geheel beslag had, en\nverhaalde hem wat het volk mij gezegd had.\nAlvorens ik hunne streek verliet, kwamen zij weder bij mij en zeiden,\ndat zij over mijne woorden nagedacht hadden, dat zij met vreugde\nvernomen hadden, dat ik een geestelijke bij mij had, en gaarne,\ningevolge mijn verlangen, wilden trouwen, zoo spoedig ik begeerde, want\ndat zij in het geheel niet verlangden van hunne vrouwen te scheiden, en\nhet beste met haar voorhadden. Wij stelden het dus op den volgenden\nmorgen, en bepaalden, dat zij middelerwijl hunne vrouwen zouden\nverklaren wat het huwelijk was, en dat dit ook van haar eischte, hare\nmannen in geen geval te verlaten.\nDe vrouwen begrepen dit gemakkelijk en waren er zeer mede tevreden,\ngelijk zij ook reden hadden. Den volgenden morgen kwamen zij dus allen\nin mijn vertrek, waar ook mijn geestelijke zich bevond. Schoon hij noch\neen Engelsen geestelijke kleeding, noch een Fransch priesterkleed droeg,\ndroeg hij echter een zwart overkleed met een sjerp, hetgeen veel naar de\nkleeding van een Engelsch geestelijke geleek. Ik diende voor tolk van\nhetgeen hij zeide. Maar zijne ernstige taal jegens hen, en zijne\naarzeling om de vrouwen te trouwen, omdat zij ongedoopt waren en het\nChristelijk geloof niet beleden, boezemden eerbied voor hem in, en nam\nallen twijfel weg of hij een geestelijke was. Ik vreesde zelfs in den\nbeginne, dat deze zwarigheid hem zou verhinderd hebben haar in het\ngeheel te trouwen. Al wat ik ook zeide baatte niet, en hij weigerde\nvolstandig het huwelijk te sluiten, alvorens hij met de mannen en ook de\nvrouwen gesproken had. Schoon ik hier eerst iets tegen had, deed echter\nzijne welmeenende opregtheid mij daarin toestemmen. Hij zeide hun\ndaarop, dat ik hem hunne omstandigheid en tegenwoordig voornemen had\nmedegedeeld, dat hij gaarne, volgens mijn verlangen, hun huwelijk wilde\nsluiten, maar eerst eenige woorden tot hen rigten moest. Hij bragt hun\ndaarop onder het oog, dat zij in de oogen van iedereen, en volgens alle\nmaatschappelijke wetten, tot hiertoe in openbare ontucht hadden geleefd;\ndat dit, wel is waar, thans alleen verholpen kon worden als hij hen\ntrouwde of zij zich van elkander scheidden; maar dat zich bij hen nog\neene zwarigheid tegen een Christelijk huwelijk opdeed, die moeijelijk\nweg te nemen was, namelijk die van een Christen aan eene heidensche,\nafgodische vrouw te verbinden; terwijl hij echter zag, dat er geen tijd\nwas om de vrouwen vooraf te doopen en tot de leer van Christus over te\nhalen, daar zij ongetwijfeld nimmer iets van gehoord hadden, en zonder\nwelke hij haar niet doopen kon.\nHij zeide het er voor te houden, dat zij zelf slechts weinig van de\ngodsdienst wisten, en derhalve niet verwachten kon, dat zij er hunne\nvrouwen veel van medegedeeld hadden, maar dat hij hen niet trouwen kon,\nten ware zij hem beloofden hun uiterste best te doen om hunne vrouwen\nover te halen Christenen te worden, en dat zij haar zoo goed zij konden\nzouden onderrigten nopens hunnen Schepper, en hunnen Verlosser leeren\ndienen, want hij wilde geene Christenen en heidenen verbinden, hetgeen\nstrijdig was met alle beginselen der Christelijke leer; en door\nGoddelijke wetten verboden.\nZij hoorden dit alles zeer oplettend aan, gelijk ik het hen, zoo na\nmogelijk met zijne eigene woorden, mededeelde, terwijl ik er slechts\nsomtijds iets bijvoegde om hen te overtuigen hoe billijk het was, en hoe\nvolkomen naar mijne overtuiging; en ik zorgde steeds goed de woorden van\nden geestelijke, en hetgeen ik er bijvoegde, te onderscheiden. Zij\nzeiden, dat alles zeer waar was, dat zij zelve slechts laauwe Christenen\nwaren, en nimmer met hunne vrouwen over de godsdienst hadden gesproken.\n\"En hoe zouden wij haar de godsdienst leeren, mijnheer?\" zeide Willem\nAtkins. \"Wij zijn zelf onwetend, en als wij haar spraken van God en\nChristus, en Hemel en hel, zouden zij ons uitlagchen, en vragen wat wij\nzelf geloofden. En als wij dan zeiden, dat wij alles zelf geloofden wat\nwij zeiden, zoo als, dat de brave lieden naar den hemel gaan en de\nslechten naar den duivel, dan zouden zij ons vragen waar wij zelf\nwenschten heen te gaan, die dit alles gelooven, en toch zulke groote\nschelmen zijn. Waarlijk, mijnheer, dat is genoeg om haar al aanstonds\ntegen de godsdienst in te nemen. Men moet, als men anderen leeren wil,\nzelf eenige godsdienst hebben.\"--\"Willem Atkins,\" zeide ik, \"ik vrees,\ndat het maar al te waar is wat gij zegt, maar kunt gij daarom uwe vrouw\nniet zeggen, dat zij een verkeerd geloof belijdt, dat er een God en een\ngodsdienst is, beter dan de hare, dat hare goden afgoden zijn, die noch\nspreken, noch hooren kunnen; dat er een opperst Wezen is, die alles\ngeschapen heeft, die de goeden beloont, de kwaden bestraft, en door wien\nwij eindelijk voor al onze daden geoordeeld zullen worden. Gij zijt zoo\nonwetend niet, maar uw eigen verstand zal u zeggen, dat dit alles de\nwaarheid is, en ik vertrouw, dat gij dit ook weet en gelooft.\"\n\"Dat is waar, mijnheer,\" zeide Atkins, \"maar hoe zal ik mijne vrouw daar\niets van zeggen, als zij mij dadelijk zal tegenwerpen, dat dit niet waar\nzijn kan?\"--\"Waarom zou zij dat zeggen?\" vroeg ik.--\"Wel, mijnheer,\"\nzeide hij, \"zij zal zeggen, het is niet waar, dat die God regtvaardig is\nof straft en beloont, daar een kerel als ik, die zich zoo slecht jegens\nhaar en iedereen gedragen heeft, niet gestraft en naar de hel gezonden\nis geworden; en dat mij het leven gelaten is, terwijl ik altijd het\ntegendeel gedaan heb van hetgeen ik haar zeggen moet, dat goed is, of\nwat ik behoorde gedaan te hebben.\"--\"Ik vrees, dat hetgeen gij zegt maar\nal te waar is, Atkins,\" zeide ik, en deelde daarop het gesprokene aan\nden geestelijke mede. \"O,\" zeide deze, \"zeg hem, dat \u00e9\u00e9ne zaak hem tot\nden besten leermeester zijner vrouw zal maken, en dat is berouw. Opregt\nberouw leert hem het best zijne misstappen kennen, en zoo hij dit\nslechts gevoelt, is hij volkomen geschikt zijne vrouw te onderrigten;\nhij zal haar dan zeggen, dat God niet alleen een regtvaardig vergelder\nvan goed en kwaad is, maar ook de hoogste Genade, die met eindelooze\ngoedheid en langmoedigheid de straf des zondaars ophoudt, en niet den\ndood des zondaars wil, maar dat hij leve en zich bekeere; dat Hij\ndikwijls de slechten langen tijd laat voortgaan, en zelfs spaart tot den\ndag des oordeels; dat dit een duidelijk bewijs van Gods bestaan en van\neen toekomstigen staat is, dat de regtvaardige zijn loon en de slechte\nzijne straf niet ontvangt op deze wereld. Dit zal hem aanleiding geven\nzijne vrouw de leer der opstanding en van het laatste oordeel mede te\ndeelen. Laat hem slechts opregt berouw gevoelen.\"\nIk zeide dit alles tot Atkins, die het met een zeer ernstig gelaat en\nblijkbare ontroering aanhoorde, tot hij, toen ik nauwelijks uitgesproken\nhad, in drift uitriep: \"Ik weet dat alles, mijnheer, en meer dan dat;\nmaar ik ben niet zoo schaamteloos van er tegen mijne vrouw over te\nspreken, terwijl het God en mijn eigen geweten bekend is, en mijne vrouw\nook getuigen kan, dat ik altijd geleefd heb alsof ik nooit iets van God\nen een toekomstig leven gehoord had. En wat berouw betreft, helaas!\n(hier loosde hij een diepen zucht, en ik zag de tranen in zijne oogen)\ndaar is voor mij geen denken meer aan.\"--\"Geen denken meer aan,\" zeide\nik, \"hoe meent gij dat?\"--\"Ik weet wel wat ik zeg,\" hervatte hij, \"ik\nmeen, dat het te laat is, en dat is maar al te waar.\"\nIk herhaalde den geestelijke woord voor woord wat hij zeide. De\nijverige, liefderijke priester (die, wat ook zijn geloof was, zeer voor\nhet eeuwig heil van anderen bezorgd was) kon zijne tranen niet\nbedwingen, maar zeide daarop tegen mij: \"Doe hem slechts eene vraag. Is\nhij tevreden, dat het te laat is, of doet het hem leed en wenschte hij,\ndat het anders ware?\" Ik zeide dit aan Atkins, die met drift antwoordde:\nhoe iemand tevreden zou zijn in een staat, die noodwendig tot zijn\neeuwig verderf moet uitloopen, dat hij alles behalve gerust was, maar\nintegendeel er den een of anderen dag een eind aan zou moeten\nmaken.--\"Wat meent gij daarmede?\" vroeg ik. Hij antwoordde, dat hij\ngeloofde, dat hij den een of anderen tijd zich zelf van kant zou maken,\nom aan zijne ellende en angst een einde te maken.\nDe priester schudde zeer ontroerd het hoofd, toen ik hem dit mededeelde,\nmaar zeide daarop: \"Als dat het geval is, kunt gij hem verzekeren, dat\nhet niet te laat is: Christus zal hem berouw schenken. Verklaar hem, bid\nik u, dat daar alle menschen door Christus behouden zijn, en door zijn\nlijden de Goddelijke genade verwerven, hoe kan het voor iemand te laat\nzijn om de genade te ontvangen? Denkt hij, dat hij zich buiten het\nbereik kan stellen der Goddelijke barmhartigheid? Zeg hem, dat het\nnimmer voor iemand te laat is, om vergiffenis van zonden af te smeeken;\nen dat alle dienaren der godsdienst gelast zijn te allen tijde\nvergiffenis te verkondigen aan hen, die opregt berouw gevoelen; en dat\nhet daartoe nimmer te laat is.\"\nIk deelde dit alles aan Atkins mede, die het zeer ernstig aanhoorde,\nmaar daarop het gesprek scheen te willen afbreken, want hij zeide, dat\nhij thans zijne vrouw eens moest spreken. Hij vertrok dus, en wij\nspraken tot de overigen. Deze waren allen even onkundig in het stuk van\ngodsdienst als ik, toen ik mijne ouders ontliep. Echter luisterden zij\ngretig naar hetgeen wij zeiden, en beloofden er met hunne vrouwen over\nte spreken, en te zullen trachten haar tot het Christendom over te\nhalen.\nDe geestelijke glimlachte, toen ik hem dit mededeelde, schudde het\nhoofd, en zeide: \"Wij dienaars van Christus kunnen niets doen dan\nvermanen en onderrigten, en als men ons aanhoort en belooft te doen wat\nwij verlangen, moeten wij met hunne beloften ons vergenoegen. Maar\ngeloof mij, mijnheer, hoe ook het gedrag van dien Willem Atkins geweest\nis, ik geloof, dat hij alleen opregt bekeerd is. Ik wil aan de anderen\nniet wanhopen, maar die man heeft blijkbaar een juist besef en berouw\nvan zijn vroeger leven, en zoo hij tot zijne vrouw over de godsdienst\nspreekt, zal hij zichzelven tevens bekeeren; want de beste wijze om zelf\nte leeren is somtijds, anderen te onderwijzen. Ik heb iemand gekend, die\nweinig met de godsdienst ophad, en een overgegeven booswicht was, maar\ngeheel van zijn slechten weg teruggebragt is, door zijne pogingen, om\neen Jood te bekeeren. Zoo Atkins tot zijne vrouw over den Heiland zal\nspreken, zal hij zelf zich daardoor tot Hem leeren wenden.\"\nNa dit gesprek en op de belofte, dat zij hunne vrouwen tot het\nChristendom zouden trachten over te halen, trouwde hij de drie andere\nparen, maar Willem Atkins en zijne vrouw waren nog niet terug. Na eene\npoos wachtens werd de geestelijke nieuwsgierig te weten, waar Atkins\ngebleven was, en verzocht mij met hem uit het doolhof te gaan, zeggende,\ndat hij vast vertrouwde dien armen man hier of daar te zullen vinden,\nwaar hij zijne vrouw de beginselen der godsdienst leert. Ik dacht\nhetzelfde en geleidde hem door een weg, dien ik alleen kende, en waar\nhet geboomte zoo digt was, dat men er naauwelijks door kon zien. Aan den\nrand van het bosch gekomen, zag ik Atkins en zijne vrouw, in de schaduw\nzeer ijverig zitten praten. Ik wachtte tot de geestelijke bij mij was,\nen toen bleven wij hen eene poos gadeslaan. Wij bemerkten, dat hij zeer\nernstig met haar sprak, haar naar de zon en de lucht, dan naar de aarde,\ndan naar de zee, dan op haar en zich zelven, dan naar de boomen wees.\n\"Gij ziet, dat ik gelijk had,\" zeide de geestelijke, \"thans onderrigt hij\nzijne vrouw. Hij leert haar, dat God de aarde, de lucht, de zon, de zee,\nhen zelven gemaakt heeft.\"--\"Ik geloof het ook,\" zeide ik.--Atkins stond\nthans op, knielde neder en vouwde de handen. Wij waren te ver af om te\nhooren of hij iets zeide. Daarop ging hij weder naast zijne vrouw zitten\nen tegen haar spreken. Zij scheen zeer oplettend, doch wij konden niet\nopmerken of zij iets zeide of niet. Toen hij nederknielde, zag ik den\ngeestelijke de tranen over de wangen loopen, en ook ik kon de mijne\nmoeijelijk bedwingen. Het speet ons, dat wij niet konden hooren wat zij\nzeiden, doch wij durfden niet naderbij komen, om hen niet te storen; ook\ngaven hunne gebaren genoeg den aard van hun onderhoud te kennen. Atkins\nzat naast zijne vrouw, en sprak haar met zigtbare ontroering toe; twee\nof drie malen omhelsde hij haar hartelijk, daarop zagen wij, dat hij\nhare oogen afwischte en haar met buitengewone vervoering kuste,\neindelijk nam hij haar bij de hand, sprong op, en een paar stappen\nvoorttredende, knielden beide neder.\nMijn vriend kon zich niet langer bedwingen, maar riep luidkeels uit:\n\"Heilige Paulus, zie, hij bidt!\" Ik vreesde, dat Atkins hem hooren zou,\nen verzocht hem dus zich te bedwingen, om het verdere te zien van dit\ntooneel, het treffendste en streelendste, dat ik ooit zag. De jonge\npriester bedwong zich met moeite, want het denkbeeld, dat deze\nafgodische vrouw eene Christin werd, bragt hem in vervoering. Hij\nweende, kruiste zich en dankte God bij zichzelven in het Latijn en\nFransch, waarbij de vreugdetranen soms zijne woorden verstikten. Ik\nsmeekte hem zich te matigen en het verdere van dit tooneel gade te\nslaan. Na opgestaan te zijn, hervatten de man en zijne vrouw hun\ngesprek, en hare gebaren gaven de grootste aandacht en ernst te kennen.\nDit duurde ongeveer een half kwartieruurs, waarna zij vertrokken. Ik\ntrad thans met den geestelijke in gesprek, en betuigde hem mijne vreugde\nover hetgeen wij gezien hadden, dat, schoon ik niet veel geloof sloeg\naan die spoedige bekeeringen, ik deze echter als opregt beschouwde,\nzoowel bij den man als bij zijne vrouw, hoe onwetend deze ook nog was.\n\"En wie weet,\" voegde ik er bij, \"of niet deze twee, in vervolg van\ntijd, door voorbeeld en onderrigt, weldadig op sommigen der overigen\nzullen werken.\"--\"Op sommigen!\" herhaalde hij, \"neen, op allen, daar\nkunt gij staat op maken, en zoo deze twee wilden (want hij schijnt\nvolgens u weinig beter dan een wilde) het Christendom omhelzen, zullen\nzij het ook onvermoeid aan de anderen mededeelen. Een waar Christen zal\nnimmer een heiden bij zijn geloof laten als hij hem daaraan ontrukken\nkan.\" Ik stemde toe, dat dit een waar Christelijk beginsel was, en een\nblijk van zijn opregten ijver en edel karakter. \"Maar mijn vriend,\"\nzeide ik, \"sta mij toe u hier eene vraag te doen. Ik kan niets inbrengen\ntegen uwen ijver om deze arme lieden van heidenen tot Christenen te\nbekeeren. Maar hoe kan u dit voldoen, daar deze lieden buiten den schoot\nder Roomsche kerk blijven, waar binnen, volgens u, alleen de zaligheid\nte vinden is; dus moet gij dezen nog als ketters beschouwen, en evenzeer\nverdoemd als de heidenen zelve.\"\nMet veel opregtheid antwoordde hij: \"Mijnheer, ik ben Roomsch Katholijk,\neen priester, monnik van de Benediktijner orde, en gehecht aan al de\nleerstellingen van het Roomsche geloof. Echter, en geloof mij, dat ik\nniet spreek uit beleefdheid jegens u, of om de verpligtingen, die ik aan\nu heb, beschouw ik u, Protestanten, niet liefdeloos en als van de\nGoddelijke genade uitgesloten. Ik wil geenszins de verdiensten van\nChristus in zoo verre beperken van te denken, dat Hij u niet in zijne\nkerk kan opnemen, op eene wijze, die voor ons verborgen is, en ik hoop,\ndat gij eveneens over ons denkt. Dagelijks bid ik God, dat hij u allen\ntot de kerk van Christus brenge, op de wijze, die de hoogste Wijsheid\ngoedvindt. Middelerwijl zult gij het in een Katholijk niet vreemd\nvinden, dat hij een groot onderscheid maakt tusschen een Protestant en\neen heiden; tusschen iemand, die Jezus Christus aanroept, schoon dan op\neene wijze, die naar mijne denkwijze niet met het ware geloof strookt,\nen een heiden, die noch van God, noch van den Verlosser iets weet; en\nzoo gij niet binnen den schoot der Katholijke kerk zijt, hopen wij, dat\ngij er naderbij zijt dan diegenen, die nooit van den Heiland en zijne\neerdienst hebben gehoord. Het verheugt mij dus, dat ik dezen man, die\ngelijk gij zegt, een deugniet en bijkans een doodslager geweest is, zie\nnederknielen en tot Christus bidden, gelijk wij meenen, dat hij deed,\nschoon hij dan nog niet tot het volle licht gekomen is; geloovende, dat\nGod, van wien alle goede werken komen, hem te zijner tijd verdere kennis\nder waarheid zal schenken, en als door Gods invloed deze man zijne\nheidensche vrouw onderrigt en bekeert, kan ik niet gelooven, dat hij\nzelf zou verloren gaan. En zou ik mij dan niet verheugen als zij nader\nbij de kennis van Christus gebragt zijn, schoon zij dan juist niet op\nhet oogenblik, dat ik zulks wenschte, in den schoot der Katholijke kerk\nzijn gekomen, en laten het aan 's Heilands wijsheid over zijn werk te\nzijner tijd te voltooijen? Zeker zou ik mij verheugen als al de wilden\nvan Amerika zoo ver waren, dat zij even als deze arme vrouw tot God\nbaden, al werden zij ook in den beginne Protestanten, liever dan dat zij\nheidenen bleven; want ik zou vast gelooven, dat Hij hun het eerste licht\ngeschonken had, een straal der Hemelsche genade op hen zou laten\nnederdalen, en als Hij goedvond, in den schoot zijner kerk brengen.\"\nIk was verbaasd over de opregtheid en gematigdheid van dezen vromen\nKatholijk, en weggesleept door de kracht zijner redenering, en thans\nbedacht ik, dat als alle menschen zoo gematigd dachten, wij allen\nKatholijke Christenen konden zijn, tot welke kerk of sekte wij ook\nbehoorden; dat een geest van liefde ons alsdan weldra tot de waarheid\nzou brengen. Ik zeide hem, dat als alle leden zijner kerk zoo gematigd\ndachten, zij spoedig allen Protestantsch zouden zijn; en hierbij lieten\nwij het berusten. want wij kwamen nooit tot redetwisten.\nIk viel hem echter op eene andere wijze aan, en zeide, hem bij de hand\nvattende: \"Mijn waarde vriend, ik deel volkomen in uw gevoelen, maar als\ngij in Spanje of Itali\u00eb zulke leerstellingen verkondigt, zal de\nInquisitie u spoedig beet pakken!\"--\"Het kan zijn,\" zeide hij, \"ik weet\nniet wat men in Spanje of Itali\u00eb zou doen, maar deze gestrengheid zou\nhen geen beter Christenen maken, want overmaat van liefde is geen\nketterij.\" Daar Atkins en zijne vrouw weg waren, hadden wij hier niets\nmeer te verrigten en keerden huiswaarts, en daar vonden wij hen op ons\nwachten. Ik vroeg den priester of wij hen zeggen zouden dat wij hen\ngezien hadden, maar hij zeide liever eerst te willen hooren wat hij ons\nte zeggen had. Daar er niemand anders bij was, begon ik met hem te\nvragen: \"Willem Atkins, welke opvoeding hebt gij wel gehad? Wie was uw\nvader?\"\nAtkins. Een aanzienlijker man dan ik ooit worden zal; hij was een\ngeestelijke.\nRobinson Crusoe. En uwe opvoeding?\nA. Hij wilde mij goed onderwijzen, mijnheer, maar ik had een afschuw van\nalle onderrigt, vermaning en berisping, als een wild dier.\nR. C. Ja, Salomo zegt reeds, dat hij, die berisping veracht, naar een\nbeest gelijkt.\nA. Ja, mijnheer, ik leefde als een beest. Ik heb mijn vader den dood\naangedaan; om Gods wil, mijnheer, spreek er niet meer over, ik heb mijn\narmen vader den dood aangedaan!\nTerwijl ik dit alles den priester vertolkte, werd hij bleek, sprong op\nbij de laatste woorden en riep uit: \"Hemel! een moordenaar!\"\nR. C. Neen, neen, mijnheer, gij begrijpt hem verkeerd. Atkins, gij hebt\nuwen vader niet met eigen hand vermoord?\nA. Neen, mijnheer, maar ik heb hem het hart gebroken en het verdriet\nover mij heeft zijne dagen verkort, doordien ik op de ondankbaarste,\nonnatuurlijkste wijze de liefderijkste en teederste zorgen beantwoordde.\nR. C. Ik bedoelde niet u deze belijdenis af te persen, ik bid God dat\nHij er u berouw over schenke, en u deze en uwe overige zonden vergeve;\nmaar ik vroeg u dit, omdat ik zie dat gij, ofschoon niet geleerd, toch\nniet zoo onwetend zijt in het goede, en dat gij meer van de godsdienst\nwist, dan gij in uw gedrag aan den dag legde.\nA. Gij hebt mij die belijdenis niet afgeperst, maar mijn geweten heeft\nhet gedaan. Als wij op onze levensbaan terugzien zijn de zonden, jegens\nonze liefderijke ouders gepleegd, zeker de eersten die zich opdoen; die\nwonden zijn het diepst en van alle zonden drukken deze ons het zwaarste.\nR. C. Hetgeen gij zegt treft mij te sterk, Atkins, ik kan het niet\naanhooren.\nA. Gij mijnheer? Deze wroegingen zullen u toch wel niet bekend zijn.\nR. C. Ja, Atkins, ieder strand, iedere heuvel, ja ik mag wel zeggen elke\nboom van dit eiland is getuige van mijne wroegingen over mijne\nondankbaarheid en mijne slechte handelwijze jegens mijn vader; een vader\nzoo als ook de uwe was, Atkins, maar ik geloof toch dat mijn berouw op\nverre na zoo groot niet is als het uwe.\nMijne aandoeningen beletten mij meer te zeggen, maar ik achtte 's mans\nberouw zoo veel sterker dan het mijne, dat ik op het punt stond het\ngesprek te staken en mij te verwijderen, want ik begreep, dat in plaats\nvan hem te leeren en te onderrigten, ik in hem zeer onverwachts, een\ntreffend leeraar en onderwijzer gevonden had. Ik deelde dit alles aan\nden geestelijke mede, die er zeer door getroffen was, en mij zeide: \"Heb\nik u niet gezegd, mijnheer, dat zoo deze man bekeerd was, hij ons allen\nonderrigten zou? Men heeft mij hier niet noodig, hij zal alles op het\neiland tot Christenen maken.\"\nNa mij eenigzins hersteld te hebben, hervatte ik mijn gesprek met\nAtkins. \"Maar, Atkins,\" zeide ik, \"hoe komt gij juist nu zoo tot inzigt\nin deze zaak?\"\nA. Mijnheer, gij hebt mij een werk opgedragen, dat mij als een zwaard\nhet hart doorboort. Ik heb mijne vrouw over God en de godsdienst\ngesproken, gelijk gij mij gelastte, om haar tot het Christendom over te\nhalen, en zij heeft mij eene predikatie gehouden, die ik nimmer zal\nvergeten.\nR.C. Neen, neen, uwe vrouw heeft die niet gehouden, maar uw geweten, dat\nuwe bewijzen tegen u zelven heeft aangevoerd.\nA. Ja, mijnheer en met onweerstaanbare kracht.\nR.C. Verhaal mij, als gij wilt, wat er tusschen u en uwe vrouw is\nvoorgevallen; ik weet er reeds iets van.\nA. Mijnheer, u daarvan een volledig verslag te geven is mij onmogelijk;\nik ben er vol van en kan het toch niet uitspreken; maar wat zij ook moge\ngezegd hebben, dit kan ik u verzekeren, dat ik besloten heb boete te\ndoen en mijn leven te verbeteren.\nR.C. Maar verhaal er ons iets van. Hoe zijt gij aangevangen. Dit is\nwaarlijk buitengewoon; zij heeft u inderdaad eene boetpreek gehouden als\nzij dat bewerkt heeft.\nA. Welnu dan, ik verhaalde haar eerst van den aard onzer wetten op het\nhuwelijk, en waarom mannen en vrouwen verpligt waren zulk eene\nonverbreekbare verbindtenis aan te gaan; dat anders de orde en\ngeregtigheid niet gehandhaafd konden worden, en de mannen hunne vrouwen\nen kinderen zouden verlaten, geen bloedverwantschap zou gekend blijven,\nen geen opvolging of erfdeel wettig kunnen genoten worden.\nR.C. Gij spreekt als een advokaat, Atkins. Kondt gij haar doen begrijpen\nwat gij door erfenissen en door bloedverwantschap meende? Bij de wilden\nkennen zij dat niet, maar trouwen naar ik gehoord heb, zonder op\nmaagschap acht te geven, broeder en zuster, zelfs vader en dochter.\nA. Ik geloof mijnheer, dat gij dwaalt. Mijne vrouw verzekert het\ntegendeel en zegt, dat zij bloedschande verfoeijen zoo wel als wij, maar\nmisschien zijn zij omtrent verdere verwantschap niet zoo naauwgezet als\nwij.\nR.C. En wat zeide zij op uwe voorstellingen?\nA. Dat dit haar zeer goed beviel, en beter was dan in haar land.\nR.C. Maar zeide gij haar wat het huwelijk was?\nA. Ja, daarmede begon ons gesprek. Ik vroeg haar of zij op onze wijze\nmet mij wilde trouwen. Zij vroeg wat dat was. Ik zeide haar, dat het\neene Goddelijke instelling was, en hierop hebben wij het zonderlingste\ngesprek gehad, dat ooit man en vrouw te zamen voerden.\nDit gesprek tusschen Atkins en zijne vrouw heb ik dadelijk opgeschreven,\nnadat hij het mij verhaald had. Hier volgt het:\nDe vrouw. Door uw God ingesteld. Hebt gij dan een God in uw land?\nAtkins. Ja, mijne lieve, God is overal.\nV. Neen, uw God is in mijn land niet. In mijn land is de groote oude\nBenamoekie God.\nA. Kind, ik ben weinig in staat u den aard van God te leeren. God is in\nden Hemel, en heeft den hemel en de aarde en de zee en al wat er in is\ngemaakt.\nV. Neen, uw God heeft de geheele aarde niet gemaakt, mijn land niet.\nAtkins lachte over deze uitdrukking.\nV. Waarom lacht gij? niet lagchen. Dit is geen ding om mede te lagchen.\nHij gevoelde hoe regtmatig zij hem berispte, want zij was in den beginne\nernstiger dan hij.\nA. Gij hebt gelijk; ik zal niet meer lagchen.\nV. Gij zegt dus, dat uw God alles gemaakt heeft?\nA. Ja kind, onze God heeft de geheele wereld en u en mij en alle dingen\ngemaakt, want Hij is de eenige ware God; er is geen God buiten hem. Hij\nleeft eeuwig in den Hemel.\nV. Waarom hebt gij mij dat niet al lang gezegd?\nA. Gij hebt gelijk, maar ik was een deugniet, die niet alleen vergat u\nmet iets van dien aard bekend te maken, maar zelf buiten God leefde.\nV. Wat, hebt gij een groote God in uw land, en kent Hem niet! Zegt niet\no tegen Hem? Doet niets goeds voor Hem? Dat is niet mogelijk.\nA. Het is toch maar al te waar. Wij leven alsof er geen God in den Hemel\nwas en als had Hij geene magt op aarde.\nV. Waarom laat God u dat doen? Waarom laat Hij u niet goed leven?\nA. Dat is onze eigene schuld.\nV. Maar gij zegt, Hij is groot, zeer groot, heeft zeer groote magt; kan\nu dooden als Hij wil. Waarom slaat Hij u niet dood als gij Hem niet\ndient, hem niet aanroept, geene goede dingen doet?\nA. Dat is waar, Hij kon mij dooden en ik mogt het verwachten; maar God\nis genadig en straft ons niet naar verdiensten.\nV. Maar zegt gij uwen God daarvoor dan niet dank?\nA. Neen, ik heb God niet gedankt voor zijne genade, evenmin als ik Hem\ngevreesd heb om zijne magt.\nV. Dan is uw God geen God. Ik geloof niet dat Hij zoo groot, zoo sterk,\nzoo magtig is, als Hij u niet doodslaat als gij Hem beleedigt.\nA. Hoe, zou mijn slecht leven u verhinderen in God te gelooven.\nEllendige, die ik ben! Welk eene droevige waarheid, dat het slechte\nleven der Christenen de bekeering der Heidenen belet!\nV. Hoe kan ik denken, dat gij zulk een grooten God d\u00e1\u00e1r hebt (naar den\nHemel wijzende) als gij geene goede dingen doet. Kan Hij spreken? Zeker\nweet Hij niet wat gij doet?\nA. Ja wel, Hij weet en ziet alles; Hij hoort ons spreken, ziet wat wij\ndoen, weet, wat wij denken, al spreken wij niet.\nV. Wat? Hoort Hij u vloeken, zweren, anderen verdoemen?\nA. Ja, ja, Hij hoort dat alles.\nV. Waar is dan zijn zoo sterke, groote magt?\nA. Hij is genadig, dat is al wat wij er van kunnen zeggen, en dat\nbewijst dat Hij de ware God is; Hij is God en geen mensch en daarom\nworden wij gespaard.\nAtkins zeide, dat hij hier zelf ijsde van de gedachte, dat hij zijne\nvrouw zoo duidelijk kon zeggen dat God alles ziet en hoort en de\ngeheimste gedachten des harten kent; en dat hij toch al zijne euveldaden\nhad durven verrigten.\nV. Genadig; wat meent gij daarmede?\nA. Hij is onze Vader en Schepper, en Hij heeft ons lief en spaart ons.\nV. Dan doodt Hij nimmer, wordt nimmer boos als gij kwaad doet, dan is\nHij ook zelf niet goed en niet magtig.\nA. Ja wel, ja wel; Hij is oneindig goed en oneindig magtig om te\nstraffen. Somwijlen geeft Hij blijken van zijnen toorn jegens zondaren.\nMenigeen wordt te midden zijner boosheden verdelgd.\nV. Maar Hij heeft u niet gedood; dan hebt gij misschien een verdrag met\nhem gemaakt, dat gij kwaad zoudt doen en Hij niet boos op u worden als\nHij het op anderen is.\nA. Neen waarlijk niet; al mijne zonden zijn zoo veel tergingen zijner\nlangmoedigheid, en met regtvaardigheid kon Hij mij verdelgen als andere\nzondaren.\nV. Zoo, en toch maakt Hij u niet dood? Wat zegt gij daarvoor tegen hem?\nZegt gij hem geen dank daarvoor?\nA. Ik ben een ondankbaar voorwerp, dat is waar.\nV. Waarom maakt Hij u niet veel beter? Gij zegt, dat Hij u gemaakt\nheeft.\nA. Hij heeft mij gemaakt, zoo wel als de geheele wereld; ik ben het, die\nmij zelven verlaagd en zijne goedheid misbruikt heb.\nV. Ik wenschte, dat God mij leerde kennen; ik zou hem niet boos maken,\nik zou geen kwade slechte dingen doen.\nHier zeide Atkins dacht hij van schaamte te vergaan, dat een dom\nonwetend schepsel naar de kennisse Gods verlangde; en dat hij zulk een\nsnoodaard was, dat hij haar omtrent God geen woord schier zeggen kon,\nwat niet door zijn eigen gedrag haar schier ongeloofelijk moest\nvoorkomen; ja, dat zij reeds niet in God kon gelooven, omdat een zoo\nslecht schepsel als hij niet verdelgd was geworden.\nA. Gij verlangt, mijn lieve, dat ik u God leer kennen, maar God kent u\nreeds en elke gedachte van uw hart.\nV. Zoo, als Hij weet wat ik nu tegen u zeg, dan weet Hij, dat ik Hem\nverlang te kennen. Hoe zal ik weten wie mij gemaakt heeft?\nA. Arm schepsel, God moet u leeren, ik kan het niet. Ik zal Hem bidden,\ndat Hij zich aan u leert kennen, en mij vergiffenis schenkt, dat ik\nonwaardig ben u te onderrigten.\nDe arme man was zoo beangst, toen zij verlangde, dat hij haar God zou\nleeren kennen, dat hij voor haar op de knie\u00ebn viel, en God bad haar te\nwillen verlichten door de zaligmakende kennis aan Jezus Christus, en hem\nzijne zonden vergeven en het werktuig worden, om haar de beginselen der\ngodsdienst mede te deelen. Vervolgens ging hij weder naast haar zitten,\nen het gesprek ging voort. Het was toen dat wij hem zagen nederknielen\nen de handen opheffen.\nV. Waarom knielt gij? waarom heft gij de handen omhoog? Tegen wien\nspreekt gij? Wat zegt gij? Wat beteekent dat alles?\nA. Mijn lieve, ik boog mijne knie\u00ebn met onderdanigheid aan mijnen\nSchepper. Ik zeide \"O\" tegen Hem, gelijk gij het noemt, en zoo als uwe\noude lieden tegen uwen afgod Benamoekie doen, dat wil zeggen ik aanbad\nHem.\nV. Waarom zeide gij O tegen Hem?\nA. Ik smeekte Hem uwe oogen en verstand te openen; ten einde Hij zich\naan u leerde kennen, en Hij zich uwer aannam.\nV. Kan Hij dat doen?\nA. Ja. Hij kan alles doen.\nV. Maar hoort Hij wat gij zegt?\nA. Ja, Hij heeft ons gelast tot Hem te bidden, en beloofd ons te zullen\nverhooren.\nV. U dat gelast? wanneer? en hoe? Hebt gij Hem hooren spreken?\nA. Neen, wij hooren Hem niet spreken, maar Hij heeft zich op\nverschillende wijzen aan ons geopenbaard.\nHier wist hij niet hoe hij haar zou doen begrijpen, dat God zich aan ons\nin zijn Woord heeft geopenbaard, en wat zijn woord was: maar eindelijk\nzeide hij haar het volgende:\nA. God heeft in vroegere dagen tot eenige goede menschen gesproken, uit\nden Hemel, in duidelijke woorden, en God heeft eenige goede menschen met\nzijn geest vervuld en deze hebben al zijne wetten in een boek\ngeschreven.\nV. Dat begrijp ik niet. Waar is dat boek?\nA. Ik heb helaas dat boek niet, maar ik hoop het den een of anderen tijd\nte bekomen en u daarin te leeren lezen.\nHier omhelsde hij haar met veel aandoening, maar zeer bedroefd, dat hij\ngeen Bijbel had.\nV. Maar hoe zult gij mij leeren, dat God hun geleerd heeft, dat boek te\nschrijven?\nA. Op dezelfde wijze, als waarop wij weten, dat Hij God is.\nV. Hoe weet gij dat?\nA. Omdat hij niet leert of beveelt dan wat goed, regtvaardig en heilig\nis, en ons zoowel volmaakt goed als volmaakt gelukkig tracht te maken,\nen omdat Hij ons gelast alles te vermijden wat slecht is, wat boos van\naard of boos in de gevolgen is.\nV. Dat zou ik wel begrijpen, dat zou ik wel willen zien; als Hij alle\ngoede dingen beloont, alle slechte dingen bestraft; alle goede dingen\nleert, alle kwade verbiedt, als Hij alles maakt, alles geeft, als Hij\nmij hoort als ik O tegen Hem zeg, als Hij mij goed maakt als ik goed wil\nzijn; mij spaarde, mij niet dood maakt als ik niet goed ben. Dat alles\nzegt gij, dat Hij doet; ja, Hij is een groote God, ik denk, ik geloof,\ndat Hij de groote God is; ik zal tot Hem \"O\" zeggen met u.\nHier kon de arme man zich niet langer bedwingen, maar opstaande, deed\nhij haar nederknielen, en bad God met luider stemme haar door den H.\nGeest in de kennisse Gods te onderrigten; en dat hij te eeniger tijd den\nBijbel mogt bekomen, ten einde zij Gods woord mogt hooren en door\nhetzelve Hem leeren kennen.\nDit was het oogenblik, waarop wij hem haar bij de hand zagen vatten en\nnederknielen, gelijk ik vroeger gezegd heb.\nNaar het schijnt wisselden zij nog vele woorden, te veel om hier mede te\ndeelen, en in het bijzonder deed zij hem beloven, daar, volgens zijne\neigene bekentenis, zijn leven eene reeks van schandelijke overtredingen\nvan Gods geboden was geweest, dat hij zich zou beteren, en God niet\nlanger tergen, opdat Hij hem niet dood maakte, gelijk zij zeide, en dan\nzou zij verlaten zijn, en nimmer God leeren kennen, en hij zou rampzalig\nzijn, gelijk hij haar verhaald had, dat slechte lieden na hunnen dood\nwaren.\nDit verhaal trof ons beide, maar vooral den jongen geestelijke, wien het\nechter bitter speet, dat hij niet tot haar spreken kon, daar hij geen\nEngelsch en zij het zeer gebrekkig sprak. Hij zeide tot mij, dat hij\ngeloofde, dat bij deze vrouw nog iets anders te doen was dan haar te\ntrouwen. Ik begreep hem eerst niet, maar hij gaf mij zijne meening te\nkennen, dat zij gedoopt moest worden. Ik stemde dit volmondig toe, en\nwilde er dadelijk toe overgaan. \"Neen, neen, mijnheer,\" zeide hij,\n\"schoon ik haar in allen geval wilde doopen, moet ik u doen opmerken,\ndat Willem Atkins haar op eene wonderbaarlijke wijze den lust tot een\ngodsdienstig leven heeft bijgebragt, en haar zeer juiste denkbeelden van\nhet wezen van God, van zijne magt, regtvaardigheid en genade, gegeven;\nmaar ik wenschte wel van hem te weten of hij haar iets gezegd heeft van\nJezus Christus en van de behoudenis der zondaren, van den aard van het\ngeloof in Hem en der verlossing door Hem, van den Heiligen Geest, de\nopstanding, het laatste oordeel, en een toekomstigen staat.\"\nIk riep Willem Atkins terug en vroeg hem dit, maar de arme kerel barstte\ndadelijk in tranen uit, en zeide, dat hij haar over dat alles gesproken\nhad, maar dat hij zelf zoo slecht was, en zijn eigen geweten hem over\nzijn goddeloos leven knaagde, dat de vrees hem deed beven, dat hare\nbekendheid met hem haar belangstelling hierin zou verhinderen, en haar\nde godsdienst eer doen verachten dan beminnen. Maar hij was, zeide hij,\nzoo verzekerd; dat haar geest voor alle goede indrukken geopend was,\ndat zoo ik slechts met haar wilde spreken, het spoedig blijken zou, dat\nmijne moeite bij haar niet vruchteloos zou blijven.\nIk riep haar dus binnen en plaatste mij als tolk tusschen den priester\nen de vrouw, en verzocht hem met haar te beginnen; maar waarlijk nimmer\nwerd een tweede predikatie als deze, in de laatste eeuwen, door een\nRoomsch priester gehouden. Hij had, gelijk mij voorkwam, al de\nopregtheid van een Christen, zonder de dwalingen der Roomsch-Katholijken,\nen ik hield hem voor een geestelijke, gelijk de eerste bisschoppen der\nChristelijke kerk ongetwijfeld geweest zijn. Om kort te gaan, hij bragt\nde arme vrouw zoo ver, dat zij de kennis van Christus en van de\nverlossing door Hem aannam, niet alleen met verwondering en verbazing,\ngelijk zij de eerste begrippen van Gods wezen ontving, maar met\nvertrouwen en vreugde, met aandoening, en met eene treffende bevatting,\ndie men zich naauwelijks verbeelden, laat staan beschrijven kan, en op\nhaar eigen verzoek werd zij gedoopt. Toen de geestelijke hiertoe\naanstalten maakte, verzocht ik hem hierbij voorzigtig te zijn, opdat zoo\nmogelijk, de man niet bemerkte, dat hij Roomsch-Katholijk was. Hij zeide\nmij, dat daar hij geene gewijde kapel, noch eenige dingen, tot den doop\ngeschikt, had, hij het op eene wijze doen zou, dat ik, zoo ik het niet\nwist, niet zeggen zou, dat het door een Roomsch-Katholijk geschiedde.\nZoo deed hij ook, want na eenige woorden in het Latijn bij zichzelven\ngezegd te hebben, stortte hij eene schaal vol water over het hoofd der\nvrouw, daarbij in het Fransch zeggende: \"Maria,\" zoo als haar man mij\nverzocht had, dat zij heeten zou, want ik was haar peet, \"ik doop u in\nden naam des Vaders, des Zoons en des Heiligen Geestes!\" zoodat niemand\ndaaraan kon hooren van welk geloof hij was. Daarop sprak hij den zegen\nuit in het Latijn, maar Willem Atkins wist niet beter of het was\nFransch, of sloeg er geen acht op.\nOnmiddellijk hierop trouwde hij hen, en zoodra het huwelijk gesloten\nwas, wendde hij zich tot Atkins, en vermaande hem op eene treffende\nwijze, niet alleen in zijne goede voornemens te volharden, maar door\neene verbetering van zijn leven zijn geloof te bewijzen. Hij zeide, dat\nzijn berouw niets baatte, zoo hij geen afstand deed van het kwaad; hield\nhem voor hoe God hem tot het werktuig had gekozen om zijne vrouw tot het\nChristendom te bekeeren, en dat hij zorgen moest Gods genade niet te\nverwaarloozen, want dat anders de bekeerde heiden een beter Christen zou\nzijn dan hij. Hij voegde daarbij nog vele goede lessen en gaf hun daarop\nin korte woorden den zegen, terwijl ik al wat hij zeide in het Engelsch\noverbragt. Hiermede eindigde deze plegtigheid. Steeds heb ik dezen dag\nvoor de aangenaamste mijns levens gehouden.\nMaar mijn geestelijke hield zijne taak nog niet voor volbragt; zijn hart\nhing aan de bekeering der zevenendertig wilden, en gaarne wilde hij\ndaartoe op het eiland blijven; maar ik overtuigde hem, dat deze\nonderneming op zichzelve zeer bezwaarlijk was, en ten tweede, dat deze\nmisschien in zijne afwezigheid kon geschieden, waarover straks nader.\nNa de zaken aldus op het eiland geschikt te hebben, maakte ik\ntoebereidselen tot mijn vertrek, toen de jongeling, die ik van de\nuitgehongerde equipage had medegenomen, bij mij kwam, zeggende, dat hij\nvernomen had, dat ik een geestelijke bij mij had, en de Engelschen met\nhunne vrouwen had doen trouwen; dat hij ook een huwelijk gesloten\nwenschte tusschen twee Christenen, hetgeen hij hoopte, dat mij niet\nonaangenaam zou zijn.\nDit, wist ik, moest de jonge dienstmaagd zijner moeder zijn, want er was\ngeene andere Christenvrouw op het eiland; ik vermaande hem dus hierin\ngeen overijlden stap te doen, of omdat hij zich in deze eenzaamheid\nbevond. Ik hield hem voor, dat hij, gelijk ik van hem en ook van de\ndienstmaagd gehoord had, eenige bezittingen en goede vrienden in de\nwereld had, dat het meisje niet alleen arm, en eene dienstbode was, maar\nook niet met hem gelijk stond, daar zij zes- of zevenentwintig, en hij\nzeventien of achttien jaar oud was; dat hij met mijne hulp\nwaarschijnlijk van hier en weder in zijn land zou komen, en dat het\nduizend tegen een was, dat zijne keus hem later zou berouwen, en dat\nbeider leven alsdan even onaangenaam zou zijn. Ik wilde hier nog veel\nbijvoegen, toen hij mij glimlagchend zeide, dat ik mij vergiste, dat hij\ndaar volstrekt niet aan dacht, daar zijn tegenwoordig lot treurig genoeg\nwas; dat hij met vreugde hoorde, dat ik op middelen bedacht was, hem\nnaar hun vaderland terug te voeren, en dat niets hem zou overhalen hier\nte blijven, dan dat mijne voorgenomen reis zoo uiterst lang en\ngevaarlijk was, en hen zoo ver van al zijne vrienden zou voeren, dat hij\nniets van mij verlangde, dan dat ik hem op het eiland een stuk land gaf\nmet eenige noodwendigheden, en een paar dienstboden, en dat hij dan als\neen planter leven zou, in afwachting, dat ik hem zou vandaar helpen als\nik in Engeland terugkwam; in welk geval hij hoopte, dat ik hem niet zou\nvergeten; dat hij mij eenige brieven aan zijne familie in Londen zou\nmedegeven, met vermelding hoe goed ik jegens hem geweest was, en hoe en\nwaar ik hem gelaten had; en dat als hij vandaar kwam, de plantaadje,\nhoeveel die ook dan waard mogt zijn, geheel mijn eigendom zou zijn.\nDit was voor een zoo jeugdig mensch zeer verstandig gesproken, en mij te\nmeer aangenaam, omdat hij mij stellig zeide, dat het voorgenomen\nhuwelijk hem niet aanging. Ik beloofde hem, dat zoo ik behouden in\nEngeland terugkwam, ik zijne brieven verzenden zou, en hij er staat op\nmaken kon, dat ik nimmer zou vergeten in welke omstandigheden ik hem\nverlaten had. Op mijn verlangen om te weten wie er trouwen wilden,\nnoemde hij mijn duizendkunstenaar, en Suzanna, zijne dienstmaagd. Dit\nbeviel mij uitstekend, want ik hield hen voor een zeer geschikt paar.\nHet karakter van den man heb ik reeds geschetst, en het meisje was zeer\nbraaf, zedig, godsdienstig en ingetogen; zij wist zich zeer wellevend en\nvan pas uit te drukken, en schroomde niet zich te laten hooren als het\nnoodig was, zonder dat zij, waar het onnoodig was, zich onbescheiden op\nden voorgrond stelde; zij was zeer handig en huishoudelijk in haar\ngedrag, en zeer goed tot het huisbestier geschikt, ja zij had het\ngeheele eiland wel kunnen bestieren. Zij had zeer goed den slag van met\nalle menschen om te gaan, ook met aanzienlijker dan zij hier aantrof.\nWij trouwden het paar nog dienzelfden dag, en daar ik de bruid als vader\nnaar het altaar geleidde, gaf ik haar ook een bruidschat; want ik schonk\naan haar man en haar eene fraaije uitgestrekte plek gronds, voor eene\nplantaadje. Dit huwelijk en het verzoek van den jongeling hem een stuk\ngrond af te staan, gaf aanleiding, dat ik de landerijen onder hen\nverdeelde, opdat er naderhand geen twist over zou ontstaan.\nDeze land verdeeling droeg ik aan Willem Atkins op, die nu een zeer\ningetogen, bezadigd, ernsthaftig man, geheel veranderd en zeer vroom en\ngodsdienstig was geworden; en voor zoo verre men in zulk een geval\nstellig spreken kan, en naar ik geloof, zich opregt bekeerd had. Hij\ndeed deze verdeeling zoo regtvaardig en naar ieders genoegen, dat zij\nalleen eene algemeene door mij geteekende acte voor zich allen\nverzochten, die ik deed opstellen en teekende, waarbij de ligging en\ngrenzen van iedere plantaadje bepaald werden, met bepaling, dat ik het\nregt op het geheele bezit en beschikking der verschillende plantaadjen\nmet derzelver aanhoorigheden, aan hen en hunne erfgenamen afstond\nterwijl ik mij het overige des eilands als mijn bijzonder eigendom\nvoorbehield, met eene zekere rente of erfpacht, na verloop van elf\njaren, als ik, of iemand van mijnentwege met een echt afschrift van deze\nacte kwam, om die te vragen.\nAangaande het bestier en wetten onder hen, zeide ik hun, dat ik hun geen\nbeter voorschriften geven kon dan zij zichzelven konden geven; doch ik\nnam hun de belofte af met elkander in liefde te leven en goede buurschap\nte onderhouden. En vervolgens maakte ik mij gereed tot mijn vertrek.\nIk moet echter nog eene zaak vermelden, dat is, dat daar zij thans eene\nsoort van gemeenebest uitmaakten, en volop werk hadden, het ongerijmd\nwas, dat zevenendertig Indianen, onafhankelijk, en zonder iets te\nverrigten, in een hoek van het eiland woonden; want deze hadden niets te\ndoen dan zich voedsel te verschaffen, dat hun soms moeijelijk genoeg\nviel, maar anders hadden zij niets te verrigten. Ik stelde derhalve\nvoor, dat de Spaansche gouverneur naar hen toe zou gaan, met Vrijdags\nvader, en hun voorstellen of voor zich zelven te bouwen, of bij hen als\ndienstboden ingedeeld te worden, om voor hunnen arbeid onderhoud te\nerlangen, maar zonder eigenlijke slaven te zijn, want daartoe wilde ik\nhen noch door geweld, noch door eenige middelen gemaakt hebben, omdat\nzij zich als het ware bij een verdrag hadden overgegeven, en dit niet\nbehoorde geschonden te worden. Zij namen verheugd het voorstel aan, en\ngingen welgemoed met hem mede. Wij gaven hun dus landerijen, die drie of\nvier aannamen, maar de overigen wilden liever als dienstboden bij de\nverschillende huisgezinnen gaan. Dus was mijne kolonie nu op de volgende\nwijze zamengesteld. De Spanjaarden bezaten mijne oude woning, die de\nhoofdstad uitmaakte, en hunne plantaadje strekte zich uit langs den\ninham, die de zoo dikwijls door mij beschrevene kreek vormde, tot aan\nmijne buitenplaats, terwijl zij hunne ontginningen steeds oostwaarts\nuitbreidden. De Engelschen woonden aan de noordoost zijde, waar Atkins\nen zijne makkers begon, en zij zich zuid- en zuidwestwaarts uitbreidden.\nIeder plantaadje had eene menigte woeste gronden, om als er gelegenheid\ntoe was, er bij aan te trekken, zoo dat zij niet uit gebrek aan ruimte\noneens behoefden te worden. Het geheele westeinde van het eiland was\nwoest gelaten, ten einde als de wilden daar alleen aan wal kwamen, om\nhunne gewone barbaarsche feestmalen te houden, zij ongehinderd gaan en\nkomen konden, en zoo zij niemand deerden, zou niemand hun deren, en\nongetwijfeld kwamen zij dikwijls aan land en vertrokken, schoon de\nplanters niet door hen verontrust werden.\nNu bedacht ik, dat ik mijn vriend, den geestelijke gezegd had, dat de\nbekeering der wilden, misschien in zijne afwezigheid, naar zijn genoegen\nkon verrigt worden, en ik zeide hem, dat ik nu een goed vooruitzigt\ndaarop meende te hebben, daar de wilden thans onder de Christenen\nverdeeld waren, en zoo ieder zich nu slechts moeite gaf op degenen, die\nonder zijne handen waren, hoopte ik, dat dit zeer goed afloopen zou.\nHij stemde daarin toe, _bijaldien_ ieder zich moeite gaf, \"maar,\" zeide\nhij, \"hoe zullen wij dat van hen gedaan krijgen?\" Ik zeide hen bijeen te\nwillen roepen, en het hun allen op het hart te drukken, of wel hen een\nvoor een te gaan spreken, wat hij het best oordeelde. Wij verdeelden het\nzoo, dat hij tot de Spanjaarden spreken zou, die allen Roomsch Katholijk\nwaren, en ik tot de Engelschen, die Protestanten waren, en wij bevolen\nhen aan en deden hen beloven, dat zij nimmer eenig onderscheid tusschen\nRoomsch en Protestantsch zouden maken in hunne vermaningen aan de\nwilden, maar hun de algemeene grondstellingen van den eenigen waren God\nen den Heiland leeren; en zij beloofden ons ook, dat zij nimmer onder\nelkander over de Godsdienst zouden twisten.\nToen ik aan het huis van Willem Atkins kwam (dat ik wel zoo noemen mag,\nwant zulk een huis of stuk mandewerk zag men geloof ik nooit ergens ter\nwereld) vond ik, dat de jonge vrouw, waarvan ik hiervoor gesproken heb,\nen de vrouw van Atkins boezemvriendinnen waren geworden, en deze\nverstandige, godsdienstige vrouw had het werk, dat Atkins begonnen had,\nvoltooid, en schoon het verhaalde eerst vier dagen geleden was, was\ndeze pas gedoopte Indiaansche vrouw zulk eene Christin, waarvan ik de\nwederga in al mijne ontmoetingen in de wereld zelden aangetroffen heb.\nDen morgen voor ik naar hen toeging bedacht ik, dat ik bij al de\nnoodwendigheden, die ik voor hen achterliet, geen Bijbel gevoegd had;\nwaarin ik mij minder bezorgd voor hen betoonde, dan de goede weduwe voor\nmij was, toen zij mij de lading van honderd Pond St. van Lissabon zond,\nwaarbij zij drie Bijbels en een gebedeboek voegde. Deze liefderijkheid\nvan de goede vrouw had nuttiger gevolgen dan zij voorzien kon, want zij\nwerden gespaard tot stichting en onderrigt van hen, die er veel beter\ngebruik van maakten dan ik gedaan had. Ik stak een der Bijbels in mijn\nzak, en toen ik bij Willem Atkins tent of huis kwam, vernam ik, dat de\njonge vrouw en die van Atkins over de Godsdienst hadden gesproken,\nhetgeen Atkins mij met veel vreugde verhaalde. Hoorende, dat zij nog bij\nelkander waren, ging ik binnen en zij met mij, en vond haar beide\nernstig in gesprek. \"O, mijnheer,\" zeide Atkins, \"als God zondaars met\nzich verzoenen wil, en verlorenen terug brengen, heeft Hij altijd boden.\nMijne vrouw heeft eene nieuwe leermeesteres. Ik weet, dat ik onwaardig\nwas tot dat werk; die jonge vrouw is door den Hemel hierheen gezonden;\nzij is in staat een geheel eiland vol wilden te bekeeren.\" De jonge\nvrouw stond blozende op en wilde heengaan, doch ik verzocht haar te\nblijven, zeide, dat zij een goed werk verrigtte, waarin ik hoopte, dat\nGods zegen met haar zijn mogt.\nWij spraken eenige oogenblikken en ik zag niet, dat zij eenig boek\nhadden, doch ik vroeg daar niet naar, maar haalde mijn Bijbel uit den\nzak. \"Hier,\" zeide ik tot Atkins, \"hebt gij een onderwijzer, die u\nmisschien ontbrak.\" Hij was zoo verbijsterd, dat hij in het eerst niet\nspreken kon, maar zich vervolgens herstellende, nam hij het boek met\nbeide handen aan en zeide tegen zijne vronw: \"Heb ik u niet gezegd dat\nGod, schoon in den Hemel, hooren kan wat wij zeggen? Hier is het boek\nwaarom ik gebeden heb. God heeft ons gebed verhoord en het ons\ngezonden.\" Hij weende als een kind van vreugde en dankbaarheid. Zijne\nvrouw was uiterst vatbaar, en schier in eene dwaling vervallen, die wij\neerst later bemerkten; zij geloofde, dat God dit boek, op haar mans\ngebed had gezonden. Het is waar, dat dit ook door de Voorzienigheid zoo\nbeschikt was, maar zij was geloof ik, geneigd te gelooven, dat er een\nbode uit den Hemel gekomen was, om haar dat boek te brengen. De zaak was\nte ernstig, om hier eenige misleiding te gedoogen, dus verzocht ik aan\nde jonge vrouw onze nieuwbekeerde te verklaren, hoe onze gebeden\nverhoord kunnen worden door den gewonen loop der zaken, en zonder dat\ndaarbij een wonder behoeft te geschieden. De jonge vrouw deed dit later,\nzoodat hier geen vroom bedrog plaats greep, hetgeen ik voor\nonverantwoordelijk zou gehouden hebben. De vreugde van Atkins echter was\nonbeschrijfelijk. Nimmer gevoelde iemand meer dankbaarheid dan hij voor\nzijn Bijbel, en niemand verheugde zich ooit over het bezit eens Bijbels\nom beter redenen, en hoewel hij een zeer woest, kwaadaardig en losbandig\nmensch was geweest, bewijst hij echter door zijn voorbeeld aan alle\nouders, dat zij nimmer het onderrigt hunner kinderen moeten staken, of\naan het goed gevolg hunner pogingen daartoe wanhopen, al zijn de\nkinderen ook schijnbaar nog zoo halsstarrig en ongevoelig, want zoo zij\nimmer tot een waar inzigt hunner zonden geraken, komen deze vroegere\nindrukken, die zoo lang geslapen hadden, weder levendig en weldadig voor\nden geest. Zoo was het ook hier; het weinige onderrigt in de Godsdienst,\ndat hij genoten had, kwam dezen armen man thans van pas, daar hij met\nnog onwetender dan hij te doen had.\nVooral herinnerde hij zich, wat zijn vader hem zoo dikwijls van de\nhooge waarde des Bijbels gezegd had, welk een voorregt deze voor geheele\nvolkeren, huisgezinnen en personen was, maar nimmer had hij dit naar\nwaarde beseft, dan nu hij de behoefte daaraan tot onderrigting van\nheidenen en barbaren gevoelde. De jonge vrouw was er ook zeer blijde\nmede, hoe wel zij en de jongeling onder hunne goederen, die nog aan\nboord waren, er ieder een hadden. Na zooveel van deze brave vrouw gezegd\nte hebben, kan ik niet nalaten er iets bij te voegen.\nIk heb verhaald welk gebrek zij geleden had, hoe hare meesteres van\nhonger gestorven was op dat ongelukkige schip, terwijl zij door het\nscheepsvolk eerst onmeedoogend behandeld en vervolgens geheel aan hun\nlot overgelaten waren. Eens hierover met haar sprekende, vroeg ik haar\nof zij, na hetgeen zij had uitgestaan, mij beschrijven kon wat het is\nvan honger te sterven. Zij zeide, dat zij geloofde van ja, en deed mij\nhet volgende verhaal:\n\"Eerst,\" zeide zij, \"hadden wij verscheidene dagen het zeer hard en\nleden geweldigen honger, tot wij eindelijk niets geen voedsel meer\nhadden dan een weinig suiker en wat wijn met water. Den eersten dag,\nnadat ik geheel geen voedsel gehad had, gevoelde ik mij tegen den avond\nflaauw en misselijk en zeer geneigd tot geeuwen en slapen. Ik ging op\neene bank in de groote kajuit liggen, en sliep bijkans drie uren, waarna\nik eenigzins verkwikt ontwaakte, daar ik, voor ik slapen ging, een glas\nwijn gedronken had. Na drie uren wakker geweest te zijn, werd ik weder\nmisselijk, ik ging weder liggen, maar kon niet slapen, terwijl ik\nduizelig was en dan weder neiging tot braken had, en dit ging zoo den\ngeheelen volgenden dag. Dien avond moest ik te rust gaan, zonder iets\ndan eene teug water genuttigd te hebben; ik droomde toen dat ik te\nBarbados op de markt was, die vol met levensmiddelen was, dat ik eenige\nvoor mijne meesteres kocht, en een goed middagmaal deed; maar bij mijn\nontwaken was ik zeer neerslagtig van denzelfden honger te gevoelen. Ik\ndronk het laatste glas wijn dat ik had, met wat suiker tot voedsel; maar\ndoor de zwakte van mijne maag, werkte de wijn onaangenaam op mijne\nhersenen, en naar men mij zeide, lag ik eenigen tijd bedwelmd en als\niemand die dronken is.\n\"Den derden dag, na een nacht dien ik vol verwarde droomen, meer\ndommelend dan slapend had doorgebragt, ontwaakte ik woedende van honger,\nen zoo mijne rede niet teruggekeerd was, weet ik niet of, zoo ik moeder\nware geweest, mijn kind wel veilig bij mij zou geweest zijn. Dit duurde\nongeveer drie uren, gedurende welke ik, gelijk mijn jonge meester mij\ngezegd heeft, ik in volslagen razernij verkeerde. In een der vlagen van\nverbijstering, struikelde ik en viel met mijn gelaat tegen den kant van\neen rustbed, waarop mijne mevrouw lag, zoodat mijn neus aan bloed\nsprong. De kajuitjongen reikte mij eene kom toe, ik ging zitten en\nverloor veel bloed, en naar gelang dat ik dit verloor, bedaarde de\nhevigheid van de koorts en tevens de knagingen van den honger.\nVervolgens werd ik gekweld door neiging tot braken. Na eenigen tijd viel\nik van bloedverlies flaauw, en allen hielden mij voor dood, doch spoedig\nkwam ik weder bij, en had toen de vreeselijkste maagpijn, die men zich\ndenken kan, niet als een kolijk, maar als een knagende, woedende trek\ntot honger, die tegen den avond overging in een allerhevigst verlangen\nnaar voedsel, misschien gelijk zwangere vrouwen wel ondervinden. Ik nam\nnog een glas water met suiker, doch mijn maag walgde van de suiker en\ngaf die weder terug. Toen nam ik eene teug zuiver water, en hield dat er\nin, waarna ik liggen ging en God allervurigst bad, dat Hij mij van de\nwereld mogt wegnemen. De hoop hierop deed mij wat bedaren, ik sluimerde\neenigen tijd en toen ik ontwaakte, dacht ik dat ik lag te zieltogen,\nwant mijne zwakke en ledige maag verbijsterde mij het brein. Ik beval\nmijne ziel aan God en verlangde hartelijk, dat iemand mij in zee wierp.\n\"Al dien tijd lag mijne mevrouw bij mij als eene stervende, maar zij\nverdroeg het geduldiger dan ik, en gaf haar laatste stukje brood aan\nharen zoon, die het niet nemen wilde, maar zij dwong hem het te eten, en\nik geloof dat hij zijn leven hieraan te danken heeft.\n\"Tegen den morgen viel ik weder in slaap, en eerst toen ik ontwaakte\nbarstte ik in tranen uit, en daarna had ik weder eene geweldige vlaag\nvan honger, zoodat ik half razend werd. Ware mijne meesteres dood\ngeweest, ik zou geloof ik een stuk van haar vleesch gegeten hebben, zoo\nonverschillig en met zoo veel smaak, als ik ooit vroeger eenig voedsel\nvoor ons bestemd, genuttigd had, en eens of tweemaal beet ik mij zelve\nin den arm. Eindelijk zag ik de kom waarin het bloed was, dat ik den\nvorigen dag verloren had, ik liep er heen, en verzwolg het zoo haastig\nen gretig, alsof ik vreesde, dat men het mij zou afnemen. Schoon ik\nnaderhand walgde van hetgeen ik gedaan had, was echter mijn honger\ngestild; ik nam eene teug water en bragt eenige uren zeer kalm door. Dit\nwas de vierde dag en dezen bragt ik zoo door tot des nachts, toen ik\ndrie uren lang dezelfde reeks van gewaarwordingen weder had; namelijk\nmisselijk, slaperig, uiterst hongerig, pijn in de maag, dan weder als\nrazende, dan weder misselijk, dan ijlhoofdig, dan gillende, dan weder\nkrankzinnig, en zoo ieder kwartier. Ik werd zeer zwak, en des nachts\nsliep ik in, alleen hopende, dat ik voor den morgen dood zou zijn.\n\"Den geheelen nacht sliep ik niet, de honger was door ziekte vervangen,\nen ik had zware kolijkpijnen; en zoo lag ik tot den morgen, toen ik een\nweinig verrast werd door het gejammer van mijn jongen heer, die mij\ntoeriep dat zijn moeder dood was. Ik hief mij een weinig op, want ik had\ngeen kracht om op te staan, en zag dat zij niet dood was, schoon zij\nslechts weinig teekens van leven geven kon.\n\"Toen gevoelde ik zulk eene snijdende pijn in de maag, en zulke knagingen\nvan den honger, dat niets dan de kwellingen des doods die kunnen\nevenaren. In dezen toestand hoorde ik de matrozen roepen: \"Een zeil! Een\nzeil!\" en boven mij schreeuwen en rondspringen als razenden. Ik was zoo\nzwak, dat ik niet opstaan kon en mijne mevrouw nog minder; en mijn jonge\nmeester was zoo ziek, dat ik dacht dat hij zieltoogde. Dus konden wij de\nkajuitdeur niet openen, om de reden van dit rumoer te hooren. Sedert\ntwee dagen hadden wij niemand van het scheepsvolk gezien; zij hadden ons\ngezegd, dat zij zelve niets te eten hadden, en later vernamen wij, dat\nzij ons reeds gestorven waanden. In dezen jammerlijken toestand waren\nwij, toen de Hemel u zond om ons het leven te redden.\"\nDit was haar verhaal, en naar het mij toescheen een zoo duidelijk\nverslag van den hongerdood, als ik nimmer hoorde. Ik houd het voor\nvolkomen waar, omdat de jongeling mij verscheidene omstandigheden even\nzoo verhaald had, schoon niet zoo juist en treffend als zijne\ndienstmaagd; welligt omdat zijne moeder hem nog, ten koste van haar\nleven, gevoed had. De arme meid echter, schoon sterker dan hare reeds\nbejaarde en zwakke meesteres, was er welligt het hardste aan toe\ngeweest, daar hare mevrouw misschien nog iets langer wat bewaard, en dit\nalleen aan haren zoon gegeven had. Ongetwijfeld zouden allen van honger\nbinnen weinige dagen gestorven zijn, zoo zij niet ons schip of een ander\nontmoet hadden, ten ware zij elkander verslonden hadden, en dit zou hun\nnog weinig gebaat hebben, op vijfhonderd mijlen van alle land en zonder\nuitzigt op andere hulp, dan hun thans te beurt was gevallen. Doch dit in\nhet voorbijgaan. Ik keer tot mijne schikkingen in de kolonie terug.\nOm verscheidene redenen zeide ik aan niemand iets van de sloep, die ik\nmedegenomen en bij hen gedacht had in elkander te zetten, want de zaden\nvan tweedragt, die ik bij mijne komst bespeurde, deden mij vreezen, dat\nzij bij eenige nieuwe oneenigheid, het eiland verlaten zouden of\nmisschien op zeeroof uitgaan, en mijn eiland hierdoor een\ndievenschuilhoek worden zou, in plaats van eene vestiging van brave en\ngodsdienstige lieden. Hierom behield ik ook de twee koperen stukken, die\nik aan boord had. Ik achtte hen genoegzaam in staat, om zich tegen elke\noverval te verdedigen, maar wilde hun geen gelegenheid geven tot een\naanvallenden oorlog of strooptogten, die eindelijk op hun verderf\nmoesten uitloopen. Ik behield derhalve de sloep en de kanonnen, om hen\ndaarmede op eene andere wijs van dienst te zijn, gelijk men later zien\nzal.\nIk heb thans met het eiland afgedaan. Ik verliet het in een bloeijenden\nstaat en ging aan boord den 6 Mei, na een verblijf van vijfentwintig\ndagen, en daar allen besloten hadden er te blijven tot ik hen kwam\nafhalen, beloofde ik hun nog eenigen onderstand van Brazili\u00eb te zullen\nzenden, als ik er gelegenheid toe vinden kon, vooral nog eenig rundvee,\ndaar wij datgene, wat ik in Engeland gekocht had, uit gebrek aan voeder\nhadden moeten slagten. Den volgenden dag groette ik met een saluut van\nvijf schoten en ging onder zeil, en kwam na twee\u00ebntwintig dagen reis in\nde Allerheiligen baai in Brazili\u00eb aan, zonder iets merkwaardigs ontmoet\nte hebben, dan dat wij een paar malen door de sterke strooming ten N. en\nN. O. uit onzen koers gedreven werden, en eens of tweemaal werd er \"land\nten Westen!\" geroepen, doch of het een eiland of het vaste land was,\nweet ik niet.\nDen derden dag echter tegen den avond zagen wij bij stil weder en eene\neffene zee, in de verte de zee met iets zwarts bedekt, doch konden niet\nzien wat het was. De opperstuurman echter, die met een kijker het groot\nwant inging, riep dat het een leger was. Ik begreep niet wat hij meende\nmet een leger, en riep wat te overijld, dat hij stapelgek was, of iets\ndergelijks. \"Word niet driftig, mijnheer,\" zeide hij, \"het is een leger\nen eene vloot ook; er zijn geloof ik wel duizend kanoes, vol volk, die\nnaar ons toe komen pagaaijen.\" Ik stond een weinig verzet en mijn neef,\nde kapitein, ook, die verschrikkelijke dingen van de wilden op het\neiland gehoord had, en nimmer te voren in deze zee\u00ebn geweest was. Hij\nwist niet wat hiervan te denken en herhaalde twee of drie maal: \"Wij\nzullen allen verslonden worden!\" Ik moet bekennen, dat ik ook het kwaad\ninzag, daar het doodstil was, en de stroom ons sterk naar het land\ndreef. Ik ried hem echter niet bang te zijn, maar te ankeren, zoodra zij\nzoo digt bij waren, dat het gevecht onvermijdelijk was.\nHet weder bleef stil en zij kwamen steeds nader, dus gelastte ik te\nankeren en de zeilen in te nemen. Van de wilden had men, zeide ik, niets\nte vreezen, dan dat zij brand verwekten, en hiertoe was het noodig de\nsloepen uit te zetten, en die wel bemand, voor en achter het schip te\nleggen, ten einde het volk daarin met putsen den brand kon blusschen,\nals de wilden dien verwekten. Aldus wachtten wij hen af, en kort daarop\nkwamen zij nader; ik geloof niet, dat ooit Christenen ontzettender\nschouwspel zagen. De stuurman had zich echter in het getal van duizend\nkanoes vergist; naar onze telling waren er niet meer dan honderd\nvijfentwintig, doch zwaar bemand; sommigen voerden zestien en zeventien\nman en meer, en de minsten zeven of acht.\nToen zij naderbij kwamen, schenen zij geheel ontzet van een gezigt,\nwelks wederga zij waarschijnlijk nimmer te voren gezien hadden, en eerst\nschenen zij niet te weten wat van ons te maken. Zij naderden echter\nsteeds meer en meer, en schenen ons te willen omsingelen, doch wij\nriepen het volk in de sloepen toe hen niet te laten naderen. Tegen onze\nbegeerte bragt dit een gevecht te weeg, want vijf of zes hunner grootste\nkanoes, kwamen zoo digt bij onze groote boot, dat ons volk hen met de\nhanden toewenkte om achteruit te gaan, hetgeen zij zeer goed begrepen en\nopvolgden, doch tevens schoten zij een vijftig pijlen op hen af, en een\nmatroos werd zwaar gewond. Ik riep hen echter toe niet te vuren, en wij\nreikten hun eenige planken toe, waarvan de timmerman eene soort van\nwaring opzette, om hen voor de pijlen te bedekken, als de wilden weder\nmogten schieten.\nEen half uur daarna kwamen zij allen te gelijk naar den achtersteven,\nzoo digt bij, dat wij hen zeer goed konden onderscheiden, maar niet\nbevroeden wat hun oogmerk was. Ik zag dadelijk, dat het mijne oude\nkennissen waren, de wilden, waarmede ik zoo veel te doen had gehad;\ndaarop roeiden zij wat terug en kwamen ons toen zoo digt op zijde, dat\nwij hen beroepen konden. Ik gelastte al het volk zich bedekt te houden,\nals zij soms weder mogten schieten, doch liet Vrijdag op het dek gaan om\nhen toe te spreken en te vernemen wat zij wilden. Of zij hem verstonden\nweet ik niet, maar zoodra hij hen aangeroepen had, wendden zes hunner,\ndie de voorsten waren, hunne kanoe, en toonden (met verlof) hun naakt\nachterste. Of dit eene uitdaging of beschimping was, weet ik niet, maar\nonmiddellijk daarop riep Vrijdag, dat zij gingen schieten, en ongelukkig\nvoor den armen jongen, schoten zij wel driehonderd pijlen af, en doodden\ntot mijne onuitsprekelijke droefheid, den armen Vrijdag, den eenigsten\nman dien zij zagen. De arme jongen was van drie pijlen getroffen, en\ndrie vielen vlak bij hem, zulke goede schutters waren zij.\nIk was zoo woedend over het verlies van mijn trouwen knecht, den\nmedgezel van mijne eenzaamheid, dat ik dadelijk vijf stukken met schroot\nen vier met kogels geladen, liet afvuren, en hun eene laag toezond, zoo\nals zij zeker nimmer in hun leven gehoord hadden. Zij waren zoo nabij en\nonze konstapels mikten zoo goed, dat een enkele kogel drie of vier\nhunner kanoes verbrijzelde.\nWij achtten ons juist niet zeer beleedigd doordien zij ons hun achterste\ngewezen hadden, en daar ik niet wist of deze verregaande lompheid bij\nons, bij hen hetzelfde beteekende, had ik besloten vier of vijf schoten\nmet los kruid te laten doen, dat hen genoeg schrik aangejaagd zou\nhebben. Maar toen zij zoo woedend op ons schoten, maar vooral toen zij\nmijn armen Vrijdag doodden, dien ik zoo hoog schatte en lief had, gelijk\nhij verdiende, achtte ik mijne handelwijze niet alleen geregtvaardigd\nvoor God en de menschen, maar zou ik gaarne iedere kanoe overzeild en\nieder hunner hebben laten verdrinken. Ik weet niet hoe velen er gekwetst\nof gedood werden, maar nimmer zag men onder eene groote menigte zulk een\nschrik, dertien of veertien hunner kanoes waren verbrijzeld of\nomgeslagen, en al het volk aan het zwemmen; de overigen roeiden zoo hard\nweg als zij konden, zonder zich te bekreunen aan hen, wier kanoes\ngezonken waren. Veel hunner zijn, denk ik, verongelukt. Ons volk nam een\nuur later, een armen kerel in, die het nog zwemmende gehouden had. Ons\nschroot had zeker velen gedood, maar wij vernamen er niets van, want\nbinnen een uur of drie hadden wij hen geheel uit het gezigt verloren, op\ndrie of vier kanoes na, die niet spoedig voort konden, en daar\ndienzelfden avond eene koelte opkwam, gingen wij onder zeil.\nDe gevangene die wij hadden was zoo woest, dat hij eten noch spreken\nwilde, en wij dachten, dat hij zich wilde laten doodhongeren. Maar ik\nwist hem wel te temmen, want ik liet hem in de sloep werpen, en hield\nmij alsof wij hem in zee wilden smijten, als hij niet spreken wilde. Het\nhielp echter niet, dus werd hij in zee gegooid, maar hij zwom de sloep\nna, en riep hen toe, schoon zij er niets van verslaan konden. Eindelijk\nnamen zij hem weder in, en nu was hij wat handelbaarder; hetgeen ik\nalleen gewild had, want ik zou hem niet hebben laten verdrinken.\nIk was bitter ter neder geslagen door het verlies van mijn Vrijdag, en\nhad gaarne naar het eiland willen terugkeeren, om vandaar een anderen\nknecht te halen, maar dit ging niet, dus vervolgden wij onze reis. Het\nduurde lang eer wij onzen gevangene iets konden doen begrijpen, maar met\nder tijd leerden de matrozen hem wat Engelsch, en werd hij wat\nhandelbaarder. Wij vroegen van welk land hij kwam, maar konden er niets\nvan begrijpen, zulk een zonderling keelgeluid maakte hij bij het\nspreken, daar zijne taal alleen uit scheen te bestaan, en hij de tong,\nlippen of tanden niet scheen te gebruiken bij het spreken. Later, toen\nde matrozen hem wat Engelsch geleerd hadden, zeide hij, dat zij met\nhunne koningen uitgegaan waren om te vechten. Wij vroegen hem hoe veel,\nen hij zeide vijf, die met hun allen tegen twee volken gingen vechten.\nOp onze vraag waarom zij naar ons toe gekomen waren, zeide hij, om het\ngroot wonder te zien. Wij konden hem nimmer leeren het meervoudig even\nals wij aan te duiden, en bij zijn uitspraak voegde hij altijd een _e_\nachter ieder woord gelijk ook alle Afrikanen doen als zij Engelsch\nleeren, en dat ik niet dan met de uiterste moeite Vrijdag had kunnen\nafleeren.\nEn nu ik dezen armen jongen nogmaals noem, moet ik voor altijd afscheid\nvan hem nemen. Arme brave Vrijdag! Wij begroeven hem zoo welvoegelijk en\nplegtig als ons mogelijk was. Het lijk werd in eene kist over boord\ngezet, waarbij ik elf schoten liet doen. Dit was het einde van den\ntrouwsten, eerlijksten en genegensten dienaar dien ooit iemand had.\nWij zetten nu met een gunstigen wind koers naar Brazili\u00eb, en ongeveer\ntwaalf dagen later zagen wij land op 5\u00b0 Z.B., zijnde het Noordoostelijkste\nvan dat gedeelte van Amerika. Vier dagen liepen wij Zuidoostwaars, in\nhet gezigt van het land, toen wij kaap Augustijn zagen, en drie later\nlieten wij het anker vallen in de Allerheiligenbaai, de plaats mijner\nredding, vanwaar mijn goed en kwaad lot begonnen is.\nNimmer liep hier een schip binnen, dat minder er te verrigten had dan\nik, en toch konden wij slechts met de grootste moeite verlof bekomen, om\neenige gemeenschap met den wal te hebben. Noch mijn compagnon, die nog\nleefde en een zeer aanzienlijk man was geworden, noch mijne twee\ngemagtigden, noch het gerucht van mijn wonderbaarlijk behoud op het\neiland, konden mij deze gunst doen verkrijgen. Mijn compagnon, die zich\nherinnerde, dat ik vijfhonderd gouden moidores aan den prioor der\nAugustijnen, en driehonderd twee\u00ebnzeventig aan de armen had gegeven,\nhaalde den tegenwoordigen prioor over, voor mij van den gouverneur\nverlof te vragen, om met den kapitein en een ander, benevens acht\nmatrozen aan wal te komen. Dit ontving ik onder uitdrukkelijke\nvoorwaarde van geene goederen zonder verlof aan land te brengen, noch\niemand van daar mede te nemen. Zij waren zoo streng, dat ik de grootste\nmoeite had om drie balen Engelsche goederen aan land te mogen brengen,\ndie ik tot presenten voor mijn compagnon medegebragt had.\nDeze was een braaf, onbekrompen man, schoon hij, even als ik, gering\nbegonnen was. Hij wist niet dat ik hem iets present wilde geven, maar\nzond mij versch vleesch, confituren en wijn present, dat met eenigen\ntabak en drie of vier fraaije gouden medailles, wel dertig gouden\nmoidores waard was. Maar ik deed voor hem niet onder in mijne\ngeschenken, die uit fijn laken, linnen en kant bestonden. Bovendien zond\nik hem aan dezelfde goederen eene waarde van 100 Pond St. tot een ander\neinde, en verzocht hem de sloep, die ik voor mijne kolonie uit Engeland\nhad mede gebragt, in elkander te laten zetten, om daarmede den\nvoorgenomen onderstand naar mijn eiland te zenden. Binnen weinige dagen\nwas de sloep gereed, en ik gaf den schipper zulke inlichtingen, dat hij\nhet eiland niet missen kon, waar hij ook, gelijk ik later van mijn\ncompagnon vernam, gelukkig aanlandde. Een der matrozen, die met mij aan\nwal geweest was, verzocht mij mede te mogen gaan en zich daar neder te\nzetten, als ik hem een brief aan den Spaansche gouverneur mede gaf, dat\ndeze hem een stuk land zou geven, en ik hem eenige kleederen en\ngereedschap mede gaf, om dat te bebouwen, waarvan hij verstand had, daar\nhij in Maryland een planter geweest was, en een boekanier ook. Ik gaf\nhem wat hij vroeg, en tevens den gevangen wilde als slaaf mede.\nTerwijl ik aan zijne uitrusting bezig was, zeide mijn oude compagnon,\ndat een Brazilisch planter, dien hij kende, een zeer braaf man, zich het\nongenoegen der kerk op den hals gehaald had. \"Wat eigenlijk van de zaak\nis,\" zeide hij, \"weet ik niet, maar ik geloof, dat hij in zijn hart een\nketter is; en hij is genoodzaakt zich voor de Inquisitie schuil te\nhouden. Zulk eene gelegenheid, om met zijne vrouw en twee dochters te\nontkomen, zou hem zeer welkom zijn, vooral als gij hem op een eiland een\nstuk gronds wilde afstaan, want al zijn goederen hier zijn in beslag\ngenomen, en hij bezit niets dan eenig huisraad en twee slaven. En,\"\nvoegde hij er bij, \"schoon ik zijne stellingen verfoei, wilde ik hem\ntoch niet in handen der geestelijke regtbank zien, want dan zou hij\nzeker levend verbrand worden.\"\nIk stond hem zijn verzoek toe, en wij hielden den man met zijn gezin aan\nboord verborgen, tot de sloep in zee stak, en toen deze buiten de baai\nwas, bragten wij hem daar aan boord, waar zijne goederen kort te voren\ngekomen waren. Onze matroos was met zijn reisgenoot zeer in zijn schik,\nen zij waren beide even rijk, namelijk in gereedschappen, en de belofte\nvan een stuk land. Het beste echter was eenig suikerriet, dat hij\nmedevoerde om daar te planten, en welks bouwing en bewerking de ketter,\nde Portugees namelijk, in den grond verstond.\nOnder den voorraad bevond zich voor mijn eiland drie koeijen en vijf\nkalven, twee\u00ebntwintig varkens, waaronder drie zeugen, die biggen\nmoesten, twee merri\u00ebn en een hengst. Ik haalde ook drie Portugesche\nvrouwen over zich derwaarts te begeven, en schreef aan de Spanjaards,\ndat zij haar goed behandelen moesten, en als zij wilden met haar\ntrouwen. Ik had er wel meer kunnen overzenden, maar ik herinnerde mij,\ndat slechts vijf Spanjaarden ongehuwd waren, terwijl de overige vrouwen\nin hun eigen land hadden, en dat de Portugesche vlugteling twee dochters\nbij zich had.\nDeze geheele bezending kwam behouden over, en was den inwoners zeer\naangenaam, die nu met de nieuw aangekomenen, een getal van tusschen de\nzestig en zeventig personen uitmaakten, eene menigte kleine kinderen\nniet medegerekend. Bij mijne terugkomst te Londen vond ik brieven van\nhen, die over Lissabon gekomen waren, en door hen met de naar Brazili\u00eb\nteruggekeerde sloep medegegeven waren, en waarover ik later spreken zal.\nIk stap thans geheel van mijn eiland af om er niet weer op terug te\nkomen, en die het verdere mijner gedenkschriften lezen, moeten hunne\ngedachten daarvan aftrekken, en zullen in de volgende bladzijden niets\nanders vinden dan de dwaasheden van een oud man, die noch door zijne\neigene ongelukken, noch door die van anderen zich liet afhouden om die\ntelkens weder te begaan; wien bijkans veertig jaren vol jammer en\nteleurstellingen geene bezadigdheid, noch ongedachte voorspoed\ntevredenheid konden verschaffen, noch ongehoorde rampspoeden en nood\nbehoedzaamheid inprenten.\nIk had even weinig noodig naar Oost-Indi\u00eb te gaan, als iemand, die vrij\nen onschuldig is, zich naar de gevangenis behoeft te begeven, om zich\nachter slot te laten zetten en van ellende te vergaan. Had ik in\nEngeland een klein scheepje genomen, daarmede regt naar mijn eiland\ngestevend, had ik het, gelijk het andere schip, beladen met allerlei\nnoodwendigheden voor het eiland en voor mijn volk, en een patent van de\nregering gevraagd, om het als een aan de Engelsche kroon onderworpen\neiland in bezit te gaan nemen, dat ik zeker had kunnen verkrijgen; had\nik geschut en wapens, bedienden en landlieden medegenomen, en er in naam\nvan Engeland bezit van genomen en het versterkt en bevolkt, gelijk ik\ngemakkelijk had kunnen doen; had ik mij daar gevestigd, en het scheepje,\nmet rijst geladen, terug gezonden, gelijk ik ook had kunnen doen in zes\nmaanden, en het daarop weder in Engeland laten uitrusten; had ik dit\ngedaan en ware ik er zelf gebleven, dan hadde ik althans als een\nverstandig mensch gehandeld. Maar ik was bezeten met een zucht tot\nzwerven, die alle voordeel in den wind sloeg; ik schepte er vermaak in\nde beschermer van de lieden te zijn, die ik daar geplaatst had, en hen\nop eene aartsvaderlijke wijze wel te doen, door hen te behandelen als\nware ik hun vader. Ik had geen de minste gedachte om in den naam van\neenige regering het te bezitten, of de bevolking onderdanen van eenig\nrijk te noemen; zelfs dacht ik er niet aan het eiland een naam te geven,\nmaar ik liet het zoo als ik het vond, als niemands eigendom, en het volk\nonder geenerlei oppermagt of wetten dan de mijne, die, schoon mijn\ninvloed op hen die van een vader en weldoener was, geen ander regt\nhadden op hunne gehoorzaamheid, dan die uit hunne vrijwillige\ntoestemming ontsproot. Dit zou echter voldoende geweest zijn als ik daar\ngebleven was, maar daar ik hun verliet en niet terugkwam, behelsden de\nlaatste berigten, die mijn compagnon mij van hen deed toekomen, nadat\nhij hun nog een tweede sloep derwaarts gezonden had, hoewel ik den brief\neerst vijf jaren ontving nadat hij geschreven was, dat de zaken daar\nniet vooruit gingen, en zij over hun lang verblijf aldaar misnoegd\nwaren; dat Willem Atkins dood en vijf van de Spanjaarden vertrokken\nwaren, en dat, schoon de wilden hen weinig lastig vielen, zij echter\neenige schermutselingen met hen gehad hadden, dat zij hem smeekten mij\nmijne belofte te herinneren van hen weg te halen, opdat zij voor hunnen\ndood hun vaderland mogten terug zien.\nMaar ik volgde steeds allerlei hersenschimmen, en die meer van mijn\nleven willen hooren, moeten mij volgen door eene reeks van nieuwe\ndwaasheden, moeijelijkheden en wilde avonturen, waaruit 's Hemels\nregtvaardigheid duidelijk uitblonk, en men zien kan hoe gemakkelijk de\nHemel onze geliefdste wenschen tot de bron onzer rampspoeden kan maken,\nen ons straffen door de vervulling van datgene, wat wij het vurigste\nverlangden. Doch ik keer tot de geschiedenis van mijne reis terug.\nIk moet hier echter echter nog vermelden, dat de brave en waarlijk\ngodvruchtige priester mij hier verliet; daar er een schip naar Lissabon\nzeilree lag, verzocht hij mij hem daarop te laten overgaan, daar het\ntoch, gelijk hij zeide, zijne bestemming scheen, nimmer eene reis te\nvolbrengen, die hij begon. Hoe gelukkig ware het geweest zoo ik met hem\ngegaan was. Doch dit was nu te laat, en al wat de Hemel beschikt, is tot\nons bestwil. Ware ik met hem gegaan, ik had nimmer zoo veel reden tot\ndankbaarheid aan God gehad, en de lezer zou nimmer het tweede deel van\nde Lotgevallen van Robinson Crusoe ontvangen hebben. Ik zal dus alle\nvruchtelooze klagten over mij zelven sparen en mijn verhaal vervolgen.\nVan Brazili\u00eb stevenden wij regt naar de Kaap de Goede Hoop, en hadden\nwel nu en dan eens storm of tegenwind, maar over het geheel eene\ngunstige reis. Mijne tegenspoeden op zee waren nu ten einde, maar andere\nongevallen en rampen wachtten mij op het land, ten blijke, dat dit even\nzoo wel als de zee, een middel kan zijn om ons te tuchtigen.\nWij hadden een supercarga aan boord, die na onze komst aan de Kaap over\nalles het bestier had, alleen was hij door den vrachtbrief verbonden tot\neen bepaald getal legdagen in elke haven, die wij aandeden. Ik had hier\nmij niet mede te bemoeijen, en al wat schip en lading betrof, werd door\nmijn neef den kapitein en den supercarga beide bestierd naar hun\ngoedvinden.\nIk zal den lezer niet vervelen met beschrijvingen van plaatsen, stukken\nuit het journaal, of met wijzingen van het compas, breedten, lengten en\nafstanden, passaatwinden, enz., die alleen nuttig zijn voor hen, die ook\nderwaarts willen gaan. Wij deden eerst Madagascar aan, waar, schoon de\ninboorlingen er stout en verraderlijk en zeer goed met bogen en lansen\ngewapend zijn, waarmede zij zeer behendig weten om te gaan; wij eene\npoos zeer goed met hen omgingen; zij behandelden ons zeer goed, en voor\neenige kramerijen als messen, scharen, enz., die wij hun gaven, bragten\nzij ons elf goede vette ossen, niet groot maar goed gevoed, die wij\nslagtten en gedeeltelijk voor scheepsgebruik inzoutten.\nNa voorraad ingenomen te hebben, moesten wij hier eenige dagen blijven,\nen ik, die altijd nieuwsgierig was om elken hoek van de wereld te zien,\nging zoo dikwijls aan den wal als ik kon. Op een avond ging ik aan de\noostzijde aan wal, en eene talrijke menigte inboorlingen drong om ons\nheen en bekeek ons, schoon zij op eenigen afstand bleven. Daar wij met\nhen handel gedreven, en vriendelijk bejegend waren, duchtten wij geen\ngevaar, maar toen wij al het volk zagen, kapten wij drie takken van een\nboom, en staken die op eenigen afstand van ons in den grond, hetwelk,\nnaar het schijnt, aldaar niet alleen een blijk van vrede en vriendschap\nis, maar als men van de andere zijde ook drie takken steekt, geeft dit\nte kennen, dat men den vrede of wapenstilstand aanneemt. Maar het is\neene bekende voorwaarde, dat men hen niet verder dan tot aan hunne drie\ntakken naderen mag, en zij niet verder komen dan die van u. Men is dus\nbinnen die takken volkomen veilig, en die ruimte is als het ware de\nmarkt, waarop handel gedreven wordt. Daar binnenkomende, moet men geene\nwapens medebrengen, en zij steken aan hunne zijde hunne spietsen en\nlansen bij de eerste takken, en naderen ongewapend, maar zoo jegens hun\neenig geweld gebruikt, en de wapenstilstand daardoor verbroken wordt,\nloopen zij naar de takken, vatten de wapens op, en de wapenstilstand is\nge\u00ebindigd.\nOp een avond, dat wij aan wal gegaan waren, kwam er veel meer volk dan\ngewoonlijk naar het strand, doch allen waren beleefd en minzaam. Zij\nbragten ons verscheidene eetwaren, die wij hun met eenige kramerijen\nbetaalden; de vrouwen bragten ons ook melk en groenten, en alles was\nrustig. Wij sloegen van takken een hutje op, en bleven dien nacht op het\nstrand. Ik had echter een tegenzin, schoon ik er geen reden voor had, om\nals de overigen op het strand te slapen, en daar onze sloep op een\nsteenworp afstands voor anker lag met twee matrozen er in, liet ik er\neen van aan wal komen en eenige takken in de sloep brengen, waarna ik\nhet zeil op den bodem der sloep uitspreidde, en daarop mij ter rust\nbegaf.\nTegen twee uren in den morgen hoorden wij een vreesselijk rumoer aan den\nwal, en een van ons volk riep ons toe, om Gods wil aan wal te komen met\nde sloep om hen te helpen, want dat zij allen waarschijnlijk vermoord\nzouden worden; tevens hoorde ik hen al hun schietgeweer lossen, dat uit\nvier of vijf snaphanen bestond, en dit tot driemaal toe, want het\nscheen, dat de inboorlingen hier niet zoo bang voor schietgeweer waren,\nals de Indianen, met welke ik te doen had gehad. Zonder te begrijpen wat\ner gaande was, maar door het rumoer dadelijk opgewekt, liet ik de sloep\ndadelijk naar land gaan, en besloot met drie geweren, die wij aan boord\nhadden, aan land te gaan, om ons volk bij te staan. Wij bereikten\nspoedig het strand, maar ons volk sprong te water, om er te spoediger in\nte komen, daar zij door drie- of vierhonderd man vervolgd werden. De\nonzen waren slechts negen in getal, en slechts vier of vijf hunner\nhadden geweren; de overigen hadden wel pistolen en sabels, maar daarmede\nkonden zij weinig uitrigten.\nWij namen zeven matrozen in de boot, en dit ging moeijelijk genoeg, daar\ndrie hunner zwaar gewond waren; en het ergste was, dat terwijl wij in de\nboot stonden om ons volk er in te helpen, wij evenveel gevaar uitstonden\nals zij op het strand gehad hadden, want zij beschoten ons zoo hevig met\nhunne pijlen, dat wij genoodzaakt waren ons te verschansen met de\ndoften, en twee of drie losse planken, die bij toeval, of liever door 's\nHemels beschikking in de boot lagen. Ware het echter dag geweest, dan\nzouden zij ons zeker allen gedood hebben, zoo zij slechts iets van ons\nligchaam hadden kunnen zien, zulke goede schutters zijn zij. Bij het\nmaanlicht zagen wij echter een glimp van hen, terwijl zij ons op het\nstrand spietsen en pijlen stonden toe te werpen, en na onze geweren\ngeladen te hebben, gaven wij hun de laag, en konden aan de kreten van\nsommigen hooren, dat wij verscheidenen gewond hadden. Zij bleven echter\ntot het aanbreken van den dag in slagorde op het strand geschaard,\nwaarschijnlijk om ons dan te wisser te treffen.\nTerwijl wij zoo lagen, wisten wij niet hoe wij ons anker ligten of ons\nzeil bijzetten zouden, omdat wij dan in de boot moesten gaan staan, en\nzij dan ons zoo zeker zouden treffen als wij een zittenden vogel met\nhagel. Wij maakten noodseinen tegen het schip, dat eene mijl in zee lag,\ndoch mijn neef de kapitein hoorde ons vuur, en door zijne kijkers ziende\nhoe wij lagen, begreep hij dadelijk wat er gaande was, en ten spoedigste\nhet anker ligtende, naderde hij den wal zoo nabij als hij durfde, en\nzond ons eene andere sloep met tien man te hulp, maar wij riepen hun toe\nniet te nabij te komen, en hoe de zaken stonden. Niet ver van ons bleven\nzij liggen, en een van het volk zwom naar ons toe met het eind van eene\nlijn in de hand, terwijl hij onze boot tusschen zich en den vijand\nhield, zoo dat men hem van het strand niet goed zien kon, en maakte dit\naan ons vast, waarop wij ons ankertouw lieten glippen, en ons anker\nachter lieten, terwijl zij ons buiten bereik hunner pijlen boegseerden,\nen wij ons achter de opgeslagen verschansing verborgen hielden. Zoodra\nwij niet meer tusschen het schip en den wal lagen, zonden wij hen van\nboord eene volle laag met schroot en kogels toe, hetwelk eene\nschrikkelijke verwoesting onder hen aanrigtte.\nToen wij aan boord teruggekeerd en buiten gevaar waren, konden wij naar\nde oorzaak van deze onlusten onderzoek doen, waarop onze supercarga, die\nhier meermalen geweest was, aandrong, want hij zeide, dat de inwoners\nons, na het aangaan van een wapenstilstand, nimmer eenig leed zouden\ngedaan hebben, als wij hen niet door het een of ander daartoe getergd\nhadden. Eindelijk kwam het uit, dat eene vrouw, die ons eenige melk was\nkomen verkoopen, een jong meisje had medegebragt, die eenige groenten\nhad gebragt, en terwijl de oude vrouw (of het hare moeder was wisten zij\nniet) hare melk verkocht, had een van ons volk zich ruw gedragen jegens\nhet meisje, waarop de oude vrouw een groot misbaar maakte. De matroos\nwilde echter zijne prooi niet laten varen, maar sleepte haar buiten het\ngezigt der oude, onder de takken, daar het thans genoegzaam duister was.\nDe oude vrouw moest zonder haar vertrekken, en bragt, naar het scheen,\nden stam, vanwaar zij gekomen was, in opschudding, die daarop binnen\ndrie of vier uren dit geheele leger tegen ons op de been bragt; en het\nwas groot wonder, dat wij niet allen omgebragt waren.\nEen van ons volk was bij het begin van den aanval door een werpspies\ngedood, zoo als hij uit de tent, die wij gemaakt hadden, te voorschijn\nkwam; de overigen bragten er het leven af, behalve de kerel, die het\ngeheele onheil veroorzaakt had, en zijn lust duur genoeg boette, want\nwij hoorden niets van hem. Wij bleven, schoon de wind gunstig was, twee\ngeheele dagen liggen, en deden seinen voor hem, en lieten onze booten\nhet strand verscheidene mijlen ver op en neder zeilen, maar alles\nvergeefs. Dus moesten wij het opgeven, en zoo hij er alleen voor geleden\nhad, ware het verlies zoo groot niet geweest.\nIk had echter geen rust voor ik nogmaals aan den wal beproefd had iets\nvan zijn lot te vernemen. Den derden nacht na het gevecht verlangde ik\nvolstrekt te weten wat kwaad wij hen gedaan hadden, en hoe de zaken bij\nde Indianen stonden. Ik zorgde het in den nacht te doen, ten einde wij\ngeen gevaar van een nieuwen aanval liepen, maar ik had mij ook moeten\nverzekeren, dat ik volkomen gezag had over het volk, dat ik medenam,\nalvorens ik mij op een togt waagde, die zoo gevaarlijk was, en zoo\nheilloos afliep, als zonder mijn weten of wensch gebeurde.\nDe supercarga en ik namen twintig van de moedigste matrozen mede, en wij\nlandden twee uren voor middernacht op dezelfde plaats, waar de Indianen\ntijdens het gevecht gestaan hadden. Ik landde juist hier, omdat ik\nhoofdzakelijk verlangde te zien of zij het veld geruimd en eenige\nteekens hadden achtergelaten van het door ons gestichte onheil; en ik\nhoopte, dat zoo wij soms een of twee hunner gevangen konden maken, wij\ndeze misschien voor onzen matroos zouden kunnen uitwisselen. Wij landden\nin de diepste stilte, en verdeelden het volk in twee hoopen; de een\nonder mijn bevel, de andere onder dat van den bootsman. Wij zagen noch\nhoorden een spoor van eenig menschelijk wezen, dus trokken wij op\neenigen afstand van elkander tot naar de plaats van het gevecht. In den\nbeginne belette de duisternis ons iets te zien, maar verder op\nstruikelde de bootsman, die vooruit ging, een paar malen over een lijk.\nHierdoor wetende, dat dit de plek was waar de Indianen gestaan hadden,\nhielden zij halt en wachtten mij af. Wij besloten te wachten tot de maan\nopkwam, hetgeen binnen een uur zou geschieden, en toen zagen wij\nduidelijk de door ons aangerigte vernieling. Wij telden twee\u00ebndertig\nlijken op het slagveld, waaronder twee die nog niet geheel dood waren.\nSommigen waren een arm, anderen een been, en een het hoofd geheel\nafgeschoten. De gewonden schenen zij medegevoerd te hebben.\nNa alles ontdekt te hebben, wat ik begreep te kunnen ontdekken, wilde ik\nnaar boord keeren, maar de bootsman en zijn volk lieten mij zeggen, dat\nzij besloten hadden het dorp op te zoeken, waar die schelmen, gelijk zij\nhen noemden, woonden, en verzocht mij mede te gaan; want vonden zij al\nhen niet, dan vonden zij toch zeker een rijken buit, en misschien wel\nTom Jeffries, zoo als de man heette dien wij verloren hadden.\nHadden zij mij om verlof gevraagd, dan had ik hun dadelijk bevolen naar\nboord te keeren, wetende, dat het ons niet betaamde dit gevaar te\nloopen, aan wie een schip en zijne lading toevertrouwd waren, en die\neene reis te doen hadden, waartoe het leven van het volk van het hoogste\nbelang was; maar daar zij mij lieten weten dat zij gaan wilden, en mij\nen mijn volk alleen verzochten mede te gaan, weigerde ik dit ronduit, en\nstond op, want ik zat op den grond, om naar de boot te gaan. Een of twee\nvan mijn volk vielen mij lastig om hen mede te laten gaan, en toen ik\ndit ook weigerde, begonnen zij te morren, zeiden, dat zij niet onder\nmijn bevel stonden, en dat zij toch zouden gaan. \"Ik ten minsten ga,\"\nzeide een hunner, \"kom Jack, gaat gij mede?\"--Jack zeide ja, en toen\nvolgde een ander en toen nog een, en om kort te gaan, allen verlieten\nmij op een na, dien ik, en dat nog met veel moeite, overreedde te\nblijven, waarop ik met hem en den supercarga naar de sloep ging, waar ik\nde anderen gezegd had, dat ik op hen wachten zou, en trachten zou\nzooveel van hen in te nemen als heelhuids terug kwamen; want ik hield\nhen voor dat zij eene dwaasheid begingen, en naar het scheen hetzelfde\nlot als Tom Jeffries wilden ondergaan.\nAls echte matrozen zeiden zij, dat alles zeker goed afloopen zou, dat\nzij daarvoor instonden, dat zij zeer voorzigtig zouden zijn, enz., en\ndaarmede gingen zij heen. Ik smeekte hen om het schip en de reis te\ndenken, en dat deze eenigermate aan hen toevertrouwd was; dat zoo hun\neen ongeluk overkwam, het schip uit gebrek aan volk kon verongelukken,\nen dat zij dit voor God noch menschen konden verantwoorden. Ik voegde er\nnog veel bij, maar had even goed tegen den grooten mast kunnen spreken;\nzij waren als verzot op den togt, doch gaven mij goede woorden,\nbeloofden dat zij uiterst voorzigtig en zeker binnen een uur terug\nzouden zijn, want het dorp lag volgens hun zeggen, geen half uur\nvandaar; schoon zij later ondervonden, dat het twee mijlen ver was. Zij\nvertrokken dan op deze dolzinnige onderneming, en om hun regt te laten\nwedervaren, even voorzigtig als moedig. Zij waren zekerlijk goed\ngewapend, ieder had een geweer, een bajonet en een pistool; sommigen\nhadden sabels en anderen enterbijlen, en bovendien hadden zij twaalf of\ndertien handgranaten. Nimmer gingen moediger kerels op slechter\nonderneming uit. Hun hoofddoel was plunderen, en zij hoopten er veel\ngoud te vinden; doch een onvoorzien toeval maakte hunne wraakzucht\ngaande, en hen tot baarlijke duivels.\nAan de plaats gekomen, waar zij het dorp dachten te vinden, en die geen\nhalf uur ver was, zagen zij zich teleurgesteld door slechts eenige\nweinige hutten te vinden, en nu wisten zij niet waar en hoe groot het\ndorp was. Zij beraadslaagden eenigen tijd of zij dit gehucht zouden\noverrompelen. In dat geval moesten zij al de inwoners van kant maken, en\nhet was tien tegen een dat er een ontsnapte, die hun weldra uit het\nnaaste dorp een geheel leger op den hals kon zenden. Zoo zij aan den\nanderen kant verder gingen, en de Indianen hier lieten slapen, wisten\nzij niet hoe het dorp te vinden. Eindelijk besloten zij er toch toe en\ngingen wat verder, tot zij eene koe aan een boom gebonden vonden. Deze\nbesloten zij hun tot gids te laten dienen, want, zeiden zij, de koe\nbehoort in het dorp voor ons of achter ons te huis; als wij haar los\nmaken en zij gaat terug, laten wij haar gaan, maar gaat zij verder dan\nvolgen wij haar. Zij sneden dus de koord van gevlochten takken los, en\nde koe ging voorwaarts, en bragten hen zoo regt naar het dorp, dat\nvolgens hen uit tweehonderd huizen of hutten bestond, in sommige waarvan\nverscheidene huisgezinnen woonden.\nAlles was daar even gerust in slaap, en zij hielden op nieuw krijgsraad,\nen besloten eindelijk zich in drie hoopen te verdeelen, en drie huizen,\nop drie verschillende plaatsen in brand te steken, en als het volk naar\nbuiten kwam, hen te grijpen en te binden, en zoo zij zich verweerden\nwist ieder wat hem te doen stond; en dan zouden zij de overige huizen\nplunderen. Zij besloten echter eerst in stilte het dorp door te trekken,\nom te zien hoe groot het was, en of zij ook beter zouden doen met af te\ntrekken. Dit deden zij, en besloten daarop tot den aanval; maar terwijl\nzij nog bijeen stonden, waren drie wat vooruitgetrokken en riepen thans,\ndat zij Thomas Jeffries gevonden hadden. Zij liepen allen derwaarts en\nhet was ook zoo, want zij vonden den rampzalige naakt uitgeschud, met\nafgesneden hals, aan een arm hangende. Digt daarbij was een hut, waarin\nzestien of zeventien Indianen zaten, waaronder twee of drie, die door\nonze kogels getroffen waren geworden, en zij hoorden deze tot elkander\nspreken.\nHet gezigt van hunnen ongelukkigen, mishandelden makker, maakte hen zoo\nverwoed, dat zij zwoeren hem te zullen wreken, en geen Indiaan, die in\nhunne handen viel, kwartier te geven. Zij gingen echter niet zoo\nonbesuisd te werk als men van hunne razende woede zou verwacht hebben.\nEerst zochten zij een en ander bijeen, dat spoedig vuur vatten kon, maar\nzij vonden dat dit niet noodig was, daar de meeste huizen zeer laag en\nmet biezen en dorre takken bedekt waren, derhalve maakten zij van eenig\nvochtig kruid een loop, en binnen een kwartier uurs stond het dorp op\nvier of vijf plaatsen in brand, vooral het huis waar de Indianen hadden\nzitten praten. Zoodra de vlammen uitsloegen, wilden de verschrikte\nwilden naar buiten vlugten, maar vonden den dood aan den ingang, waar\nde bootsman zelf twee hunner met zijne bijl velde. Daar het huis groot\nen er veel volk in was, wilde hij er niet ingaan, maar wierp er een\nhandgranaat in, die bij de uitbarsting bijkans allen doodde die daar\nbinnen waren, behalve twee of drie, die aan de deur gekomen met de\nbajonet afgemaakt werden. Er was een ander vertrek daar, waarin hun\nkoning of vorst zich met verscheidene anderen bevond, en deze hielden\nzij met geweld binnen, tot dat het brandende dak instortte, en zij in de\nvlammen omkwamen.\nZij hadden middelerwijl nog geen schot gedaan, omdat zij het volk niet\nspoediger wilden wakker maken, dan zij hen konden vermeesteren, maar de\nsnel voortgaande vlam deed hen spoedig genoeg ontwaken, en was zoo\nhevig, dat zij naauwelijks op den grond konden loopen, echter waren zij\ngenoodzaakt den loop des vuurs te volgen. Zoodra dus de vlammen de\nbewoners uit hunne huizen dreven, stonden de onzen gereed om hen af te\nmaken, terwijl zij elkander aanhoudend toeriepen: \"Denk om Tom\nJeffries!\"\nIk was, terwijl dit gebeurde, in de grootste ongerustheid, en vooral\ntoen ik de vlammen zag opstijgen; die in de duisternis vlak bij ons\nschenen te zijn. Mijn neef de kapitein, dien men bij het zien der\nvlammen gewekt had, was ook niet weinig ongerust, daar hij niet wist hoe\nde zaken stonden of in welk gevaar ik mij bevond, vooral toen hij ook\nhoorde schieten, want zij begonnen nu ook hunne geweren te gebruiken.\nHij stond duizend angsten uit, wat er van mij en den supercarga geworden\nwas. Eindelijk, niet wetende in wat nood wij waren, liet hij, schoon hij\nal zijn volk hoog noodig had, dertien man in eene andere sloep gaan, en\nging zelf met hen naar den wal.\nHij zag vreemd op, toen hij mij met den supercarga en slechts twee\nmatrozen in de boot vond, maar verlangde even hard als ik te weten wat\ner omging, want het getier hield aan en de vlammen werden steeds\nheviger. In zulk een geval is het bijkans onmogelijk het verlangen te\nwederstaan, om te weten wat er gebeurt en zijn volk te hulp te komen, en\nde kapitein zeide mij, dat hij, het kostte wat het wilde, zijn volk\nbijstand wilde bieden. Ik hield hem, even als vroeger het volk, het\nbehoud van het schip, het gevaar dat hij liep en het belang der reeders,\nvoor; en zeide, dat ik met de twee mannen op verkenning wilde uitgaan en\nhem berigt brengen. Maar ik had even goed spreken tegen mijn neef als\nvroeger tegen het volk. Hij wilde gaan, zeide hij, en hij wenschte dat\nhij slechts tien man aan boord gelaten had; want hij wilde zijn volk\nniet uit gebrek aan hulp laten omkomen; liever, zeide hij, het schip, de\nreis en zijn eigen leven er bij in te schieten, en daarmede vertrok hij.\nGelijk ik hen niet had kunnen overreden om niet te gaan, zoo kon ik mij\nzelven thans evenmin bedwingen om mede te gaan. De kapitein gelastte dus\ntwee man met de pinnas terug te roeijen, en nog twaalf man van boord te\nhalen, terwijl de groote boot voor anker bleef liggen, en dat als zij\nterug kwamen zes man op de booten zouden passen en zes ons volgen,\nzoodat hij slechts zestien man op het schip liet, want de geheele\nequipaadje bestond uit zesenvijftig man, waarvan twee bij den eersten\ntwist, die al het onheil te weeg bragt, gesneuveld waren.\nEens op weg dachten wij er weinig aan een pad te zoeken, maar gingen\nregt op de vlammen aan. Had eerst het schieten ons verontrust, thans\nwaren de jammerkreten van het arme volk van een geheel anderen aard, en\ndeden ons bloed verstijven van ijzing. Ik had zeker nimmer het\nstormenderhand innemen en verbranden van eene stad bijgewoond, maar ik\nhad van Cromwell's wreedheden in Ierland en van Tilly's plundering van\nMaagdenburg gehoord, maar nimmer vroeger van die zaken eenig besef\ngehad; ook is het niet mogelijk die te beschrijven of de ontzetting, die\nhet hooren daarvan ons aanjaagt.\nWij gingen echter verder en kwamen eindelijk aan het dorp, schoon de\nvlammen ons beletten er binnen te gaan. Het eerst wat wij zagen was eene\nhut in puin of liever in de asch, want het vuur had haar geheel\nverteerd, en daar voor lagen de lijken van vier mannen en drie vrouwen,\nen wij meenden nog een of twee in het vuur te zien. Kortom wij troffen\nzoo veel blijken aan van onmenschelijke woede en wraakzucht, dat wij het\nonmogelijk hielden, dat ons volk die allen had kunnen bedrijven; of\nanders hadden allen naar ons gevoelen den gruwelijksten dood verdiend.\nDoch dit was niet alles; voor ons uit vermeerderden de vlammen en tevens\nde kreten, zoodat wij volstrekt niet begrepen wat er gaande was. Een\nweinig verder gekomen zagen wij tot onze verbazing drie naakte gillende\nvrouwen ons als razenden voorbij vlugten, gevolgd door zestien of\nzeventien inboorlingen, met drie van onze Engelsche moordenaars achter\nhen, die, daar zij hen niet konden inhalen, op hen vuurden, en een voor\nonze oogen doodschoten. Toen de anderen ons zagen hielden zij ons ook\nvoor vijanden, van wie hun een gelijk lot te wachten stond als van de\nanderen, en zij begonnen allerakeligst te gillen, vooral de vrouwen, en\ntwee hunner vielen neder als of zij reeds werkelijk dood waren.\nMijn bloed verstijfde toen ik dit zag, en ik geloof dat, zoo de drie\nEngelsche matrozen, die hen vervolgden, bij ons gekomen waren, ik mijn\nvolk op hen zou hebben laten vuren. Wij gaven echter de arme\nvlugtelingen te kennen, dat wij hun geen kwaad wilden doen, en dadelijk\nkwamen zij naar ons toe, knielden met opgeheven handen, en hieven een\ndroevig gejammer om bescherming aan, die wij hun door gebaren beloofden,\nwaarop zij zich digt achter ons voegden. Ik liet mijn volk in orde\noprukken en gelastte hun niemand kwaad te doen, maar zoo mogelijk\neenigen van ons volk te bereiken, en te zien van welken duivel zij\nbezeten waren, wat zij wilden, en hun te gelasten het moorden te staken\nen te verzekeren, dat zij met het aanbreken van den dag honderdduizend\nwilden om hen heen zouden hebben, en ik begaf mij met een paar lieden\nonder de vlugtelingen, waar ik een jammerlijk schouwspel ontwaarde.\nSommigen hadden zich, bij het redden uit de vlammen, vreesselijk\ngebrand, anderen waren bovendien door de onzen gekwetst, en een man, die\neen kogel door het lijf had ontvangen, stierf terwijl ik er bij stond.\nIk had gaarne de aanleidende oorzaak van dit alles willen vernemen, maar\nkon van hunne woorden niets begrijpen, schoon ik uit hunne teekens\nopmaakte, dat zij er zelf niets van wisten. Ik was zoo verbitterd over\ndezen onmenschelijken aanval, dat ik het hier niet langer uithouden\nkon, maar naar mijn volk terug ging. Ik zeide hun mijn voornemen en\ngelastte hun mij te volgen, toen op dat oogenblik vier onzer matrozen\nonder aanvoering van de bootsman kwamen aanloopen, over hoopen van door\nhen vermoorde wilden, geheel met bloed en stof bedekt, alsof zij naar\nnog meer moorden verlangden. Ons volk riep hen toe zoo luid zij konden,\nen deden zich eindelijk met veel moeite hooren, zoodat zij ons herkenden\nen naar ons toekwamen.\nZoodra de bootsman ons zag riep hij hoezee, omdat hij dacht hulpbenden\nte zien, en zonder te wachten dat ik iets zeide, riep hij: \"Kapitein, ik\nben blijde dat gij gekomen zijt, wij hebben nog niet half gedaan. Die\nhonden, die helsche schurken! Ik zal er zoo veel doodslaan als de arme\nTomas haren op het hoofd had. Wij hebben gezworen geen hunner te sparen,\nwij willen hunne geheele natie van den aardbodem verdelgen!\" en zoo ging\nhij voort, hijgende van drift, zonder dat ik er een woord tusschen kon\nvoegen.\nEindelijk verhief ik mijne stem om hem te overschreeuwen. \"Barbaarsche\nschelm, wat doet gij?\" zeide ik. \"Ik verbied u, op doodstraffe, nog een\nvan het leven te berooven. Blijf hier en houd uwe handen voor u, als gij\nuw leven lief hebt, dat gelast ik u, of gij zijt zelf in twee minuten\neen lijk.\"\n\"Wel mijnheer,\" zeide hij, \"weet gij wel wat gij doet of wat zij gedaan\nhebben. Wilt gij de reden weten van onze handelingen, kom hier,\" en\ndaarmede bragt hij mij bij den armen kerel, die met afgesneden strot aan\neen boom hing.\nIk moet bekennen, dat ik toen zelf warm genoeg werd en op een anderen\ntijd misschien de voorste onder hen zou geweest zijn; maar ik begreep\ndat zij hunne wraak te ver hadden getrokken, en dacht aan de woorden van\nJacob tot zijne zonen Simeon en Levi: \"vervloekt zij hunnen toorn, want\nhij is heftig, en hunne verbolgenheid, want zij is hard!\" Maar mijne\ntaak vermeerderde thans, want toen het volk, dat ik medegebragt had,\neven als ik dit schouwspel zag, had ik om hen terug te houden even veel\nmoeite als aan de anderen, ja mijn neef zelf trok hunne partij, en zeide\nmij, zoodat zij het hooren konden, dat hij alleen bang was dat zij eene\ngroote overmagt zouden vinden; maar dat de wilden allen den dood\nverdiend hadden, om het vermoorden van den armen man, en dat zij als\nmoordenaars behoorden behandeld te worden. Dit hoorende, liepen acht van\nmijn volk den bootsman na om hem in zijn bloedig werk te helpen, en daar\nik zag, dat ik volstrekt buiten staat was hen tegen te houden, ging ik\nbitter bedroefd heen, want ik kon het gezigt, laat staan het jammerlijk\ngegil en geschreeuw der ongelukkigen, die in hunne handen vielen, niet\nuitstaan.\nIk kon niemand mede krijgen dan den supercargo en twee matrozen, en met\ndeze keerde ik naar de booten terug. Het was, dat beken ik, zeer dwaas\nvan mij, mij zoo alleen terug te wagen, want daar het nu reeds bijkans\ndag begon te worden, en de geheele omstreek in rep en roer scheen\ngebragt, stonden er bij het gehucht, waarvan ik vroeger sprak, ongeveer\nveertig man met lansen en bogen gewapend; maar toevallig liep ik hen\nmis, en kwam aan het strand toen het reeds klaar dag was. Dadelijk ging\nik met de pinnas aan boord, en zond haar daarop terug voor het volk.\nToen ik de boot bereikte, waren de vlammen bijkans uit, en het geraas\nwas veel verminderd, maar geen halfuur was ik aan boord, of ik hoorde\neen geregeld geweervuur, en zag een grooten rook opgaan. Later vernam\nik, dat ons volk toen die veertig man, die, gelijk ik zeide, bij dat\ngehucht stonden, hadden aangevallen, en er zestien of zeventien van\ngedood, waarna zij de hutten in brand staken, doch de vrouwen en\nkinderen lieten zij hier ongemoeid.\nToen de pinnas weder aan het strand kwam, begon ons volk te voorschijn\nte komen, niet in twee afdeelingen, en in geregelde orde, gelijk zij\nopgetrokken waren, maar bij kleine troepjes, die hier en daar\nrondzwierven, zoodat eenige weinige moedige mannen hen gemakkelijk\nhadden kunnen in de pan hakken. Maar de vrees voor hen was door de\ngeheele omstreek verspreid; en honderd wilden zouden geloof ik voor vijf\nmatrozen gevlugt zijn. Bij deze geheele slagting had zich niemand\nernstig verdedigd; zij waren zoo verrast door den schrik van de vlammen\nen de overrompeling der onzen in den nacht, dat zij niet wisten waar zij\nzich heen wenden zouden; want overal liepen zij den dood in den mond.\nGeen der matrozen had ook eenig letsel, behalve een, die zijn voet\nverstuikt had en een wiens handen zwaar gebrand waren.\nIk was zeer boos op mijn neef den kapitein, zoo wel als op al het volk,\nmaar op hem in het bijzonder, zoo wel omdat hij zijn pligt als\ngezagvoerder van een schip vergeten, en het gelukken der geheele reis in\nde waagschaal gesteld had, als omdat hij de woede van zijn volk in hunne\nonmenschelijke wraak eer aangevuurd dan gestild had. Hij zeide mij,\nofschoon zeer eerbiedig, dat toen hij het lijk van den matroos zag, dien\nzij zoo wreedaardig vermoord hadden, hij zijne drift niet had kunnen\nbedwingen. Hij erkende, dat hij als gezagvoerder van een schip verkeerd\ngehandeld had, maar dat hij een mensch was, en bij dit gezigt geen\nmeester van zichzelven had kunnen blijven. Over het overige volk had ik\nniets te zeggen, gelijk zij zeer goed wisten, en zij stoorden zich dus\naan mijn misnoegen in het geheel niet, en op den dag gingen wij onder\nzeil.\nOnze matrozen verschilden van meening omtrent het getal der gedooden,\ndoch naar de beste berekening waren er wel honderdvijftig mannen,\nvrouwen en kinderen gevallen, en was er in het dorp geen hut\novergebleven. Daar de arme Tom Jeffries dood was, zou het weinig gebaat\nhebben hem mede te voeren, dus lieten zij hem waar zij hem vonden,\nalleen namen zij hem van den boom af waaraan hij hing.\nHoe regtvaardig ons volk ook meende gehandeld te hebben, ik was van een\nander gevoelen, en zeide hun telkens, dat zij op hunne reis niet op Gods\nzegen konden hopen; want ik beschouwde hunne daden als zoo vele moorden.\nHet was wel waar, dat zij Tomas Jeffries vermoord hadden, maar het was\nook waar dat Jeffries de aanvaller was geweest, dat hij den\nwapenstilstand verbroken en een jong meisje, dat in het vertrouwen\ndaarop in ons kamp kwam, geweld had aangedaan. De bootsman sprak dit\ntegen toen wij later aan boord waren. Het was wel schijnbaar dat wij den\nwapenstilstand gebroken hadden, maar eigenlijk hadden de inboorlingen\ndit zelf gedaan, door een van ons volk te dooden, zoodat, daar wij regt\nhadden hen te bevechten, wij evenzeer regt hadden ons zelven regt te\nverschaffen; en ofschoon de arme man wat ruw tegen een meisje was\ngeweest, had men hem daarvoor zoo schandelijk niet mogen vermoorden; en\nzij hadden niets gedaan dan hetgeen regtmatig was, en hetgeen volgens\ngoddelijke wetten hun tegen moordenaars vrij stond.\nMen zou denken, dat dit ons had moeten waarschuwen van niet weder onder\nheidenen en barbaren aan wal te gaan, maar de menschen willen niet\nanders dan door hunne schade leeren; en hoe duurder de ondervinding hun\nte staan komt, des te meer indruk schijnt zij op hen te maken.\nOnze bestemming was thans naar de Perzische golf, en vandaar naar de\nkust van Coromandel, terwijl wij Suratte zouden aandoen; maar\nhoofdzakelijk was onze supercargo naar de baai van Bengalen voornemens,\nen als hij op de uitreis niet slaagde naar zijn genoegen, zou hij naar\nChina stevenen, op de thuisreis daar weder de kust aandoen.\nOns eerste ongeval trof ons in de Perzische golf, waar vijf man, die het\naan de Arabische zijde waagden landwaarts in te gaan, door de Arabieren\nafgesneden en gedood of in slavernij gevoerd werden; het overige\nbootsvolk kon hen niet ontzetten, maar had naauwelijks tijd het met de\nsloep te ontkomen. Ik bragt hen onder het oog, dat dit eene verdiende\nstraf des Hemels was; maar de bootsman zeide mij driftig, dat ik verder\nging, dan waartoe de Heilige Schrift mij regt gaf, en verwees mij op het\ngezegde des Heilands, dat de mannen, op wie de toren van Silo viel, geen\nzondaars waren geweest boven de anderen. Hetgeen mij echter hier den\nmond stopte was dat van de vijf man, die wij hier verloren, geen bij den\nmoord van Madagascar was geweest, gelijk ik het altijd noemde, schoon\nhet volk dit kwalijk verduwen kon.\nMijne gedurige berispingen hierover hadden echter rampzaliger gevolgen\ndan ik vermoed had, en de bootsman, die hen destijds aangevoerd had,\nkwam eens bij mij en zeide dat ik die zaak gestadig op het tapijt bragt,\nen al het volk en hem in het bijzonder er ten sterkste over gelaakt had,\nhetgeen zij, daar ik slechts een passagier was, die niets op het schip\nte bevelen had en wien de reis niets aanging, van mij niet langer\nverdragen wilden; dat zij vreesden, dat ik eenig kwaad opzet brouwde, en\nhen misschien bij onze terugkomst in Engeland zou aanklagen; en dat, zoo\nik er niet mede ophield, en mij nog verder met hem of wat hij gedaan had\nbemoeide, hij het schip zoude verlaten, want hij achtte het dan niet\nveilig als ik met hen aan boord bleef.\nIk hoorde hem vrij geduldig aan, tot hij gedaan had, en zeide toen, dat\nik zeker altijd den moord van Madagascar, gelijk ik dien altijd noemen\nzou, veroordeelde, en dat ik dit bij alle gelegenheden ronduit had te\nkennen gegeven, schoon niet meer tegen hem dan tegen een ander. Het was\nwaar, dat ik op het schip niets te bevelen had, maar ik matigde mij ook\nniets geen gezag aan, maar nam alleen de vrijheid om over zaken, die ons\nallen betroffen, ronduit te zeggen wat ik dacht; dat, welk belang ik bij\nde reis had, hem volstrekt niet aanging, dat ik een der reeders van het\nschip was, en als zoodanig begreep het regt te hebben van te spreken, en\nmeer te zeggen nog dan ik gedaan had, en noch hem, noch iemand daarvan\neenige verantwoording schuldig was; en ik begon hierop warm te worden.\nHij antwoordde weinig of niets, en ik dacht dat de zaak hiermede\nafgeloopen was. Wij waren toen op de reede van Bengalen, en daar ik de\nplaats gaarne wilde zien, ging ik met den supercargo met de sloep aan\nwal. Tegen den avond wilde ik weder naar boord gaan, toen een van het\nvolk naar mij toekwam, en mij zeide, dat ik mij geene moeite moest geven\nom naar het strand te gaan, want dat zij orders hadden mij niet naar\nboord te brengen. Op deze onbeschaamde boodschap stond ik niet weinig\nverbaasd, en vroeg den man wie hem daarmede belast had. Hij zeide de\nbootsman. Ik maakte hierop geene aanmerkingen, maar gelastte hem te\nzeggen, dat hij mij zijne boodschap gedaan en ik er niet op geantwoord\nhad.\nIk zocht dadelijk den supercargo op, en zeide hem wat er gebeurd was en\nwat ik er van dacht, namelijk, dat er zeker muiterij aan boord zou\nkomen, en verzocht hem dadelijk in eene inlandsche boot naar boord te\ngaan, en er den kapitein van te verwittigen. Ik had die moeite kunnen\nsparen, want voor ik hem gesproken had, was het aan boord reeds\ngeschied. De bootsman, de konstapel, de timmerman, en in een woord al de\nonderofficiers, waren, zoodra ik vertrokken was, naar achteren gekomen\nen hadden verzocht den kapitein te spreken, en daarop had de bootsman\neene lange aanspraak gedaan (want de man was zeer goed ter taal) en na\neerst alles herhaald te hebben wat hij mij gezegd had, zeide hij den\nkapitein, dat daar ik nu vreedzaam aan wal was gegaan, zij geen geweld\njegens mij gebruiken wilden, hetwelk zij anders zouden hebben moeten\ndoen om mij van boord te krijgen. Zij achtten zich dus genoodzaakt te\nverklaren, dat zij, die scheep gegaan waren onder zijn bevel, zich\ngetrouw van hunnen pligt zouden kwijten; maar dat, als ik niet van boord\nwilde gaan, noch de kapitein er mij toe dwingen, zij allen het schip\nzouden verlaten en niet verder met hem zeilen. Op het woord _allen_\nkeerde hij zich om, hetwelk, naar het schijnt, een vooraf beraamd sein\nwas, waarop al de matrozen, die bijeen stonden, riepen: \"Ja, allen;\nallen, iedereen!\"\nMijn neef de kapitein bezat zoo wel moed als tegenwoordigheid van geest,\nen schoon het voorgevallene hem zeer trof, zeide hij zeer bedaard dat\nhij er over denken zou, maar dat hij niets kon doen zonder mij eerst\ngesproken te hebben. Hij trachtte hun daarop het onbillijke en\nonregtvaardige van hunnen eisch onder het oog te brengen, maar niets\nbaatte. Zij zwoeren en gaven elkander in zijn bijzijn er de hand op,\ndat, zoo hij hun zijn woord niet gaf, zij mij niet zouden toelaten weder\naan boord te komen.\nDit was eene harde voorwaarde voor iemand, die zoo veel aan mij te\ndanken had, en niet wist hoe ik het op zou nemen; dus sprak hij hun\nernstig toe, zeide, dat ik de voornaamste reeder van het schip was, en\ndat men mij niet kon beletten bij mijn eigendom te blijven; dat dit\nbijkans even zoo gehandeld zou zijn als die zeeroover deed, die den\nkapitein op een woest eiland zette en met het schip doorging; dat dit\nhen bitter zou opbreken als zij ooit weder in Engeland kwamen, dat het\nschip mij toebehoorde en hij er mij niet kon afjagen, en dat hij liever\nhet schip en de reis in de steek zou laten, dan mij zoo slecht te\nbehandelen. Echter wilde hij aan den wal gaan en er met mij over\nspreken, en hij noodigde den bootsman met hem mede te gaan, ten einde te\nzien de zaak te schikken.\nZij weigerden dit echter eenstemmig en zeiden, dat zij niets meer met\nmij te doen wilden hebben, noch aan boord, noch aan den wal, en dat, als\nik op het schip kwam, zij allen het zouden verlaten. \"Nu,\" zeide de\nkapitein, \"als dat uw voornemen is, zal ik aan den wal gaan en er met\nhem over spreken.\" Kort nadat de bootsman mij het berigt had gebragt,\nkwam hij dan ook bij mij.\nIk was zeer verheugd mijn neef te zien, want ik was bang dat zij hem met\ngeweld zouden aan boord houden, zeil bijzetten en met het schip\nvertrekken, en dan had ik naakt en bloot in een vreemd land moeten\nachterblijven. In dat geval ware ik er erger aan toe geweest, dan toen\nik alleen op het eiland was.\nGelukkig waren zij zoo ver niet gegaan, en toen mijn neef mij verhaalde\nwat zij hem gezegd en hoe zij gezworen hadden, tot den laatsten man het\nschip te zullen verlaten als ik aan boord kwam, zeide ik, dat hij zich\nom mij niet bekommeren moest, want dat ik aan den wal zou blijven. Ik\nverzocht hem alleen, dat hij zorgen zou mij al wat ik noodig had aan den\nwal te zenden, en mij genoeg geld te laten, en dat ik dan, zoo goed ik\nkon, zou zien hoe ik naar Engeland kwam. Dit was mijn neef niet zeer\naangenaam, maar er was niet anders te doen; hij ging dus aan boord en\nzeide het volk, dat zijn oom aan hun onbescheiden verlangen had\ntoegegeven en zijne goederen van boord liet halen. Hiermede was de zaak\nafgeloopen, het volk keerde tot zijnen pligt terug, en ik begon te\noverwegen welken weg ik thans moest inslaan.\nIk was nu alleen aan het einde der wereld, gelijk ik wel zeggen mag,\nwant ik was ter zee drieduizend mijlen verder van Engeland dan toen ik\nop mijn eiland was; het is waar, ik kon van hier te land reizen, door\nhet land van den grooten Mogol naar Suratte, vandaar naar Bassora te\nwater, de Perzische golf op, en zoo den reisweg der karavanen op, door\nde Arabische woestijn naar Aleppo, en vandaar naar Itali\u00eb en zoo over\nland naar Frankrijk, en dit zou te zamen gerekend, zeker meer dan de\nhelft van den diameter des aardbols bedragen.\nEen ander middel was er nog, namelijk te wachten op Engelsche schepen,\ndie van Sumatra naar Bengalen kwamen, en daarmede naar Engeland terug te\ngaan. Maar ik was hier gekomen zonder eenige betrekking tot de\nOost-Indische compagnie, zoodat het moeijelijk zijn zou zonder haar\nverlof te vertrekken, tenzij door bijzondere gunst van de kapiteins of\nkooplieden van de compagnie, en bij dezen was ik geheel onbekend.\nThans had ik het hartzeer het schip te zien vertrekken zonder mij; eene\nbehandeling, die iemand, geloof ik, nimmer wedervaren is, dan van\nzeeroovers, die het schip afliepen, en hen, die niet wilden mededoen,\nhier of daar op de kust zetten. Mijn geval verschilde hiervan niet veel.\nEchter liet mijn neef mij twee bedienden, of liever lotgenooten, achter,\nde een was de onderschrijver, dien hij overreed had, om bij mij te\nblijven, en de andere was zijn eigen knecht. Ik nam mijnen intrek in het\nhuis van eene Engelsche vrouw, waar verscheidene kooplieden logeerden,\ndoch slechts een Engelschman. Hier had ik het zeer goed, en ten einde\nniets overijld te doen, bleef ik hier negen maanden, alvorens ik tot een\nbesluit kwam, wat ik doen en hoe ik verder trekken zou. Ik had eenige\nEngelsche goederen van groote waarde en vrij wat geld bij mij, daar mijn\nneef mij duizend stukken van achten en een kredietbrief voor meer\nachtergelaten had, ten einde ik in geen geval geldgebrek zou hebben.\nIk ontdeed mij spoedig en zeer voordeelig van al mijne goederen, en\ngelijk ik altijd voornemens was geweest, kocht ik er eenige fraaije\ndiamanten voor, dat in mijne omstandigheden het best was, omdat ik dan\naltijd mijne bezittingen kon medevoeren.\nNa lang hier gebleven te zijn, zonder dat het mij gelukte, eene\ngelegenheid naar Engeland te vinden, die mij aanstond, kwam op eenen\nmorgen de Engelsche koopman bij mij, die in hetzelfde huis logeerde, en\nmet wien ik bevriend was geraakt. \"Landsman!\" zeide hij, \"ik heb u eenen\nvoorslag te doen, welke ik vertrouw, dat u even goed zal aanstaan, als\nhij mij doet, nadat gij er goed over nagedacht zult hebben. Hier zijn\nwij geposteerd, gij bij toeval en ik uit eigene verkiezing, in een deel\nder wereld, dat zeer ver van ons vaderland verwijderd is, maar waar door\nons, die verstand van zaken hebben, vrij wat geld te verdienen is. Als\ngij duizend pond wilt toeleggen, even als ik, zullen wij het eerste het\nbeste schip huren, dat wij krijgen kunnen; gij zult kapitein en ik\nkoopman zijn, en wij zullen een reisje naar China doen. Waarom zouden\nwij stilzitten? De wereld en alle schepselen Gods, die er op zijn, de\nhemelligchamen zelfs, zijn allen vol beweging en leven. Waarom zouden\nwij alleen werkeloos zijn? Er zijn op Gods aardbodem geene andere\nluiaards dan menschen. Waarom zouden wij ons daaronder scharen?\"\nDeze voorslag smaakte mij zeer, vooral omdat hij op eene zoo goedhartige\nen minzame wijze gedaan werd. Ik zal niet zeggen, dat mijne\nomstandigheden mij te geschikter voor eenen handelstogt maakten, want de\nkoophandel was eigenlijk mijn element niet. Maar was deze mijn element\nniet, het zwerven wel, en dus moest iedere voorslag, om eenig deel der\nwereld te zien, dat mij nog onbekend was, mij smaken. Het duurde echter\neenigen tijd, voordat wij een schip naar ons genoegen konden vinden, en\ntoen wij dit hadden, was het niet gemakkelijk, om zooveel Engelsche\nmatrozen te verkrijgen, als noodig waren, om de reis te kunnen doen en\nde overige matrozen, die wij hier en daar opraapten, in bedwang te\nhouden. Na eene poos kregen wij een stuurman, een bootsman en een\nkonstapel, alle drie Engelschen; een Hollandsche timmerman en drie\nPortugezen voor eerste matrozen; met deze meenden wij het wel te kunnen\ndoen, daar wij overigens Hindoes namen, om de verdere bemanning uit te\nmaken.\nZooveel reizigers hebben hunne togten en lotgevallen beschreven, dat het\nweinigen smaken zou, hier een breed verhaal van de plaatsen, die wij\nbezochten, en derzelver bewoners te ontvangen. Ik laat het aan anderen\nover, naar wier werken ik mijne lezers verwijs. Alleen zal ik zeggen,\ndat wij eerst Achim op het eiland Sumatra aandeden, en vandaar naar Siam\ngingen, waar wij eenige onzer goederen voor opium en arak verruilden;\ndaar het eerste bij de Chinezen zeer duur betaald wordt en toen juist\nzeer schaars was. Om kort te gaan, wij gingen naar Susam, deden eene\nzeer groote reis, bleven acht maanden uit, en keerden naar Bengalen\nterug, zeer tevreden over onze reis. In Engeland verwondert men zich\ndikwijls, hoe de beambten en kooplieden der Oost-Indische compagnie, in\nzoo goeden doen geraken en dikwijls met zeventig, ja honderdduizend pond\nSterl. huiswaarts keeren. Maar dit is gemakkelijk te begrijpen, als men\nnagaat, dat op al die plaatsen en markten, waar Engelsche schepen komen,\ngestadig vraag is naar de voortbrengselen van andere landen, zoowel als\nretourgoederen voor de tehuisreis.\nWij hadden gelijk ik zeide, eene voordeelige reis, en door onze eerste\nonderneming zooveel geld gewonnen, en ik zooveel inzigt in de wijze van\nhandel drijven, dat, ware ik twintig jaren jonger geweest, ik in\nverzoeking zou gekomen zijn, om daar te blijven en mijne fortuin te\nmaken. Maar waartoe zou dit dienen bij iemand, die boven de zestig jaren\noud was, geld genoeg bezat, en meer reisde uit eene onbedwingbare zucht\nom de wereld te zien, dan uit hebzucht, en waarlijk ik mag die zucht wel\nonbedwingbaar noemen, want te huis verlangde ik op reis te zijn, en in\neen vreemd land verlangde ik naar huis. Ik herhaal het, wat baatte mij\nde winst? Ik was rijk genoeg, en verlangde niet naar schatten; derhalve\nwas het voordeelige van de reis voor mij geene drangreden, om mij tot\nverdere ondernemingen aan te zetten, en ik achtte zelfs deze reis als\nzonder gewin voor mij, omdat ik tot de plaats, vanwaar ik vertrokken\nwas, was teruggekeerd, alsof daar mijn vaderland was, terwijl mijn oog,\ndat, gelijk dat waarvan Salomo spreekt, onverzadigbaar was van zien,\nmaar altijd verlangde om meer te zwerven en te zien. Ik was in een deel\nder wereld gekomen, waar ik vroeger nimmer geweest was, en van hetwelk\nik vooral veel gehoord had, en had besloten, er van te zien zooveel als\nik kon, dan meende ik, had ik al het bezienswaardige in de wereld\ngezien.\nMijn compagnon bezag de zaken uit een ander oogpunt. Ik zeg dit niet, om\nhet mijne te verdedigen, want het zijne was het beste en het meest voor\neenen koopman geschikt, die, als hij op avontuur uitgaat, verstandig\nhandelt als hij zich houdt aan hetgeen waarschijnlijk hem het meeste\nvoordeel zal geven. Mijn nieuwe vriend hield zich aan het wezen van de\nzaak, en zou even als een paard in eenen molen, altijd denzelfden kring\nhebben willen rondloopen, mits hij er zijne rekening bij vond; aan den\nanderen kant was mijne denkwijze, hoe oud ik ook was, die van eenen\ndollen jongen, die als hij eens iets gezien heeft, er dadelijk van\nverzadigd is.\nMaar dit was niet alles. Ik verlangde vurig digter bij mijn vaderland te\nzijn, en kon volstrekt tot geen besluit komen, welken weg daartoe in te\nslaan. Terwijl ik hierover nadacht, stelde mijn vriend, die altijd om\nzijne zaken dacht, mij eene andere onderneming voor, naar de\nSpecerij-eilanden, en om van de Manilla's of dien kant uit, eene lading\nnagelen mede te brengen. Wel handelen de Hollanders op deze plaatsen,\nmaar zij behooren gedeeltelijk aan de Spanjaarden. Wij gingen echter zoo\nver niet, maar naar eenige andere, waar hunne magt niet zoo gevestigd\nis, als te Batavia, Ceylon enz. De toebereidselen tot deze reis waren\nspoedig gedaan, de grootste zwarigheid was alleen om er mij toe over te\nhalen. Daar echter niets anders zich voordeed en ik ondervond, dat\nreizen en handelen met eene zoo groote, en ik mag zeggen, zekere winst,\naangenamer en streelender was dan stil zitten, dat vooral voor mij, het\nrampzaligste leven was, besloot ik ook deze reis mede te doen. Wij\nvolbragten die reis gelukkig, legden te Borneo aan, en op verscheidene\neilanden, wier namen mij ontgaan zijn, en kwamen binnen vijf maanden\nterug. Onze specerijen, die voornamelijk in nagelen en eenige\nnotenmuskaat bestonden, verkochten wij aan Perzische kooplieden, die ze\nnaar de golf voerden, en daar wij vijf malen ons kapitaal terug\nontvingen, wonnen wij inderdaad veel geld.\nToen mijn compagnon de rekening opgemaakt had, zeide hij, glimlagchend\nen als om mijne onverschilligheid te hekelen: \"Welnu, is dat nu niet\nbeter dan hier rond te loopen als iemand, die niets te verrigten heeft,\nen onzen tijd te verkwisten met den onzin en domheid der heidenen aan te\ngapen?\"--\"Ik geloof waarlijk van ja, mijn vriend!\" antwoordde ik, \"en ik\nbegin de leerstellingen der kooplieden te omhelzen; maar ik moet u\nzeggen,\" vervolgde ik, \"gij weet niet wat ik doen kan, want als ik er\nlust in krijg en met hart en ziel er deel in neem, zal ik, zoo oud als\nik ben, u de wereld doorslepen, tot gij er uw bekomst van hebt, want ik\nzal het zoo ijverig aanleggen, dat gij geen oogenblik zult stilzitten.\"\nDoch om voort te gaan. Eene poos daarna kwam een Hollandsen schip van\nBatavia binnen; het was geschikt voor reizen langs de kust en niet naar\nEuropa, en van ongeveer tweehonderd ton. Het volk gaf voor, dat zij\nzooveel aan ziekte geleden hadden, dat de kapitein geen volk genoeg had,\nom weder naar zee te gaan, en daarom binnengeloopen was, en hetzij dat\nhij geld genoeg had of om andere redenen naar Europa verlangde, hij\nmaakte openlijk bekend, dat hij zijn schip wilde verkoopen. Dit kwam mij\nvroeger ter oore dan mijn compagnon, en ik kreeg lust het te koopen. Ik\nging dus naar hem toe en sprak er hem over. Hij dacht eene poos er over\nna, want hij overijlde zich nooit, en zeide eindelijk: \"Het is wel wat\ngroot; maar wij zullen het nemen.\" Diensvolgens kochten wij het schip,\nbetaalden het, en namen er bezit van. Toen dit afgeloopen was, besloten\nwij, om aan het volk te vragen, of zij met onze matrozen bij ons dienst\nwilden nemen, maar plotseling waren zij allen verdwenen, nadat zij,\ngelijk wij later vernamen, niet alleen hunne gagie, maar ook hun aandeel\nvan den koopprijs hadden ontvangen. Wij deden veel navraag naar hen, en\neindelijk zeide men ons, dat zij allen over land naar Agra, waar de\ngroote mogol zijn verblijf hield, waren gegaan, en van daar naar\nSuratte, en zoo te scheep naar de Perzische golf trokken.\nNiets speet mij eenen geruimen tijd zoo zeer, dan dat ik de gelegenheid\nvan met hen te gaan, had verzuimd, want zulk eene reis, in een\ngezelschap, dat mij zoowel tot bescherming als tot genoegen verstrekt\nzou hebben, zou juist met mijne wenschen gestrookt hebben. Ik zou dan de\nwereld gezien hebben, en tevens huiswaarts gekeerd zijn. Maar eenige\ndagen later dacht ik er anders over, toen ik vernam, wat het voor knapen\nwaren, want de man, dien zij kapitein noemden, was slechts de konstapel.\nZij waren op eene reis door eenige Maleijers aangevallen, die den\nkapitein en drie van zijn volk gedood hadden. Nadat deze gesneuveld\nwaren, besloten de overigen aan boord, elf in getal, met het schip door\nte gaan, gelijk zij deden, en het in de baai van Bengalen bragten,\nterwijl zij den stuurman met vijf man aan den wal achterlieten, van\nwelke wij later meer zullen hooren.\nDoch hoe zij ook aan het schip kwamen, wij geraakten er op eene eerlijke\nwijze aan, naar wij meenden, schoon wij misschien dat wat scherper\nhadden moeten onderzoeken, want zoo wij de matrozen ondervraagd hadden,\nzouden zij elkander zeker tegengesproken en ons grond tot achterdocht\ngegeven hebben; maar de kapitein toonde ons eene overdragt van het schip\nop zekeren Emanuel Kloosterhoven (waarschijnlijk alles valsch) en gaf\nvoor, dat hij zoo heette. Wij konden hem niet tegenspreken, en daar wij\nwat onvoorzigtig waren, of liever in het geheel geen kwaad vermoeden\nhadden, sloten wij den koop.\nWij namen vervolgens nog eenige Engelsche en Hollandsche matrozen aan,\nen besloten nu tot eene tweede reis, om specerijen naar de\nPhilippijnsche en Moluksche eilanden; en om den lezer niet met\nbeuzelingen te vermoeijen, ik bragt in het geheel in dit werelddeel zes\njaren door met van de eene haven naar de andere te varen, en ging nu in\nhet laatste jaar met mijnen compagnon op reis naar China, doch eerst\nzouden wij Siam aandoen om rijst in te koopen. Tegenwinden noodzaakten\nons hier eenen langen tijd in de engte van de Molucco's en tusschen de\nandere eilanden te kruisen, doch naauwelijks waren wij uit dit\nmoeijelijke vaarwater of wij vonden dat het schip lek was, zonder dat\nwij bij mogelijkheid konden vinden, waar dit lek zat. Hierdoor waren wij\nverpligt, om eene haven op te zoeken, en mijn compagnon, die hier beter\ndan ik bekend was, gelastte den kapitein de rivier Cambodia op te varen,\nwant ik had een Engelschen stuurman, zekeren Thomson, kapitein gemaakt,\nomdat ik geen lust had, om zelf het gezag te voeren. De rivier ligt\nnoordwaarts van de golf of baai die tot Siam zich uitstrekt.\nTerwijl wij hier lagen en dikwijls om ververschingen naar den wal\ngingen, ontmoette ik daar eens een Engelschman, naar het scheen,\nkonstapelsmaat op eenen Engelschen Oost-Indi\u00ebvaarder, die op dezelfde\nrivier digt bij Cambodia ten anker lag. Hij kwam naar mij toe, en sprak\nmij in het Engelsch aan, zeggende: \"Mijnheer! wij zijn onbekend, maar ik\nheb u iets te zeggen, dat van veel belang voor u is.\" Ik zag hem strak\naan, en dacht eerst, dat ik hem kende, maar dat was zoo niet. \"Zoo het\niets van belang voor mij en niet voor u is,\" zeide ik, \"wat beweegt u\ndan, om het mij te zeggen?\"--\"Het groot gevaar, waarin gij u bevindt,\nen dat gij, naar ik meen te zien, geheel niet vermoedt, treft mij,\"\nhernam hij.--\"Ik weet niet in welk gevaar ik mij bevinden zou,\" zeide\nik, \"behalve dat mijn schip een lek heeft, dat ik niet vinden kan, maar\nik denk het morgen op zijde te halen, en te zien of ik het vinden\nkan.\"--\"Lek of niet, gij zult wel wijzer doen, dan uw schip morgen hier\nte laten, als gij gehoord hebt, wat ik u zeggen zal,\" hernam hij. \"Weet\ngij wel, dat de stad Cambodia slechts vijftien mijlen van hier ligt, en\ndat er vijf mijlen aan deze zijde twee groote Engelsche en drie\nHollandsche schepen liggen?\"--\"Wel, wat gaat mij dat aan?\" hernam\nik.--\"Waarlijk, mijnheer!\" antwoordde hij, \"iemand, die op zulke\navonturen uitgaat als gij, is het niet geraden, om eene haven binnen te\nloopen, zonder eerst te onderzoeken welke schepen daar zijn, en of hij\nin staat is, om ze het hoofd te bieden. Ik geloof niet, dat gij tegen\nhen opgewassen zijt.\" Ik lachte over deze woorden, die mij geene zorg\nbaarden, want ik kon niet vatten wat hij meende, dus zeide ik eenigzins\nscherp: \"Ik wenschte wel, dat gij duidelijker spraakt, mijn vriend!\nwaarom zou ik bang zijn voor eenig kompagnies of Hollandsen schip; ik\nben geen smokkelaar. Wat kunnen zij tegen mij hebben?\"\nHij zette een misnoegd gelaat; doch zeide na eene poos zwijgens, met\neenen glimlach: \"Welnu, mijnheer! als gij u veilig acht, moogt gij\nafwachten wat er komen zal. Het spijt mij, dat gij blind zijt voor\ngoeden raad, maar wees verzekerd, dat zoo gij niet dadelijk in zee\nsteekt, gij met het volgende getij door vijf groote booten vol volks\nzult aangevallen worden; en als gij misschien genomen mogt worden, zal\nmen u als een zeeroover ophangen en daarna uw proces opmaken. Ik had\ngedacht,\" vervolgde hij, \"dat gij een berigt van zulk eene belangrijke\nzaak anders zoudt hebben opgenomen.\"--\"Ik ben nimmer ondankbaar,\"\nantwoordde ik, \"voor eenige dienst, noch jegens iemand, die mij eene\ndienst doet, maar ik begrijp niet, hoe zij zulk een oogmerk tegen mij\nkunnen hebben. Daar gij echter zegt, dat er geen tijd te verliezen is,\nen dat er een schelmsch voornemen bestaat, zal ik dadelijk aan boord\ngaan en in zee steken, als mijn volk het lek kan stoppen of wij zonder\ndat zee kunnen bouwen. Maar,\" vervolgde ik, \"ik zou gaarne de reden\nhiervan weten. Kunt gij mij hieromtrent geene opheldering geven?\"\n\"Slechts gedeeltelijk, mijnheer!\" zeide hij, \"maar ik heb een Hollandsen\nzeeman bij mij, en ik geloof, dat hij u wel alles zal willen verhalen,\nmaar er is naauwelijks tijd toe. De hoofdzaak echter is deze, waarvan\nhet begin u wel bekend zal zijn, namelijk dat gij met dit schip te\nSumatra geweest zijt, dat daar uw kapitein met drie of vier man door de\nMaleijers vermoord is geworden, en dat gij, of eenigen die met u daar\naan boord waren, met het schip doorgingen, en sedert zeeroof gepleegd\nhebben. Dit is de hoofdinhoud der zaak; en gij zult allen als zeeroovers\nopgepakt en zonder vele pligtplegingen opgehangen worden, want gij weet,\ndat koopvaarders den zeeroovers een kort proces aandoen, als die in\nhunne handen vallen.\"\n\"Nu spreekt gij rond en duidelijk,\" zeide ik, \"en ik bedank u, en schoon\nik weet, dat wij niets van dit alles bedreven hebben, maar op eene\neerlijke wijze aan dit schip gekomen zijn, zal ik echter op mijne hoede\nzijn als er zoo iets gebeurt, en daar gij het eerlijk schijnt te\nmeenen.\"--\"Spreek niet van op uwe hoede te zijn, mijnheer!\" zeide hij,\n\"uwe beste handelwijze is het gevaar te ontwijken. Zoo gij op uw leven\nen op dat van uw volk eenigen prijs stelt, zoo kies de ruimte, zoodra\nhet hoogwater is, en daar gij een geheel getij voor u hebt, zult gij al\nver in zee zijn, voordat zij bij u kunnen komen, en daar zij twintig\n(Eng.) mijlen moeten afleggen, wint gij bovendien twee uren door het\nverschil van het getij, en daar zij slechts met sloepen afkomen, zullen\nzij u niet te ver in zee kunnen volgen, vooral als het wat waait.\"--\"Ik\nheb waarlijk veel verpligting aan u,\" zeide ik, \"hoe zal ik u dit\nvergelden?\"--\"Spreek daarvan niet, mijnheer!\" zeide hij, \"zoolang gij\nniet weet, of het waarheid is wat ik u gezegd heb. Ik zal u iets\nvoorstellen. Ik heb negentien maanden gagie te goed op het schip,\nwaarmede ik uit Engeland ben gekomen, en de Hollander, die bij mij is,\nzeven maanden. Zoo gij ons deze geven wilt, zullen wij met u gaan, en\nzoo gij overtuigd wordt, dat wij uw leven en dat van uw volk en de\nlading gered hebben, laten wij de meerdere belooning aan u over.\"\nIk stemde dadelijk hierin toe en ging onmiddellijk met hen naar boord.\nZoodra ik op zijde kwam, riep mijn compagnon, die op het dek stond, mij\nverheugd toe: \"Wij hebben het lek gevonden en al gestopt\nook.\"--\"Goddank, dat ik het hoor,\" zeide ik, \"maar ligt dadelijk het\nanker.\"--\"Dadelijk ankerligten?\" herhaalde hij, \"waarom, wat is er\ngaande?\"--\"Vraag niet,\" zeide ik, \"maar roep alle mannen aan het werk,\nen laat het anker ligten, zonder een oogenblik te verliezen.\" Hij zag\nvreemd op, maar riep dadelijk den kapitein, en gaf hem orders, en schoon\nde eb nog niet doorgekomen was, dreef een koeltje van het land ons\nechter naar zee. Daarop riep ik hem in de kajuit en verhaalde hem wat er\ngaande was, en riep toen de twee mannen binnen, en zij verhaalden ons\nhet overige; maar daar hiermede vrij wat tijd verliep, hadden zij nog\nniet gedaan, toen reeds een matroos aan de kajuitdeur kwam, om ons te\nzeggen, dat de kapitein ons liet weten, dat er jagt op ons gemaakt\nwerd.--\"Jagt, door wie?\" vroeg ik.--\"Door vijf sloepen met volk,\" zeide\nde man.--\"Het is goed,\" zeide ik. \"Dan is er waarschijnlijk wat aan.\" Ik\nliet daarop al het volk achterop komen, en verhaalde hun, dat men\nvoornemens was, om het schip prijs te verklaren en ons als zeeroovers te\nbehandelen, en vroeg hun, of zij ons trouw wilden bijstaan. Zij\nantwoordden welgemoed, dat zij ons tot in den dood zouden getrouw\nblijven. Toen vroeg ik den kapitein, hoe wij hen het best zouden\nafslaan, want dat ik mij tot den laatsten droppel bloeds wilde\nverdedigen. Hij zeide, dat het best ware, hen met onze stukken zoo lang\nmogelijk op eenen afstand te houden, en daarna hen met ons handgeweer te\nbeletten, dat zij ons enterden, maar als dat alles vergeefs was, dat wij\nons dan omlaag moesten begeven, in de hoop, dat zij geene gereedschappen\nmogten hebben, om onze beschotten open te breken.\nDe konstapel ontving middelerwijl order om twee stukken voor en achter\nte plaatsen, zoodat zij het dek bestreken, en die te laden met\ngeweerkogels, oud ijzer en wat hij maar vond. Terwijl wij ons zoo gereed\nmaakten om te vechten, hielden wij het echter zeewaarts met eene\ntamelijke koelte en konden de sloepen op eenigen afstand zien, zijnde\nvijf groote barkassen, die ons vervolgden met zooveel zeil als zij\nslechts konden bijzetten. Twee daarvan, die wij door onze kijkers konden\nzien, dat Engelschen waren, waren de anderen bijkans twee mijlen\nvooruit, zoodat wij zagen, dat zij ons zouden inhalen. Hierop deden wij\neen schot met los kruid, tot een sein dat zij zouden bijleggen, en\nheschen eene witte vlag, tot teeken dat wij onderhandelen wilden, maar\nzij hielden vol totdat zij binnen het bereik van ons geschut kwamen.\nHierop streken wij de witte vlag, daar zij er niet op geantwoord hadden,\nheschen de roode en vuurden op hen met scherp. Desniettemin hielden zij\nvol, totdat zij zoo digt genaderd waren, dat wij hen met eenen roeper\nkonden praaijen; dus riepen wij hun toe om af te houden, als zij hun\nleven liefhadden.\nHet baatte alles niets; zij bleven ons volgen en trachtten onder onzen\nspiegel te komen, om ons zoo te enteren; waarop ik, ziende dat wij alles\nvan hen te vreezen hadden en dat zij op de andere booten, die hen\nvolgden, rekenden, gelastte het schip te wenden, zoodat zij ons op zijde\nkwamen, waarop wij dadelijk vijf stukken op hen afvuurden. Een schot\ntrof zoo goed, dat het den achtersteven van eene boot wegsloeg, waardoor\nhet volk de zeilen moest innemen en allen voorop loopen, om de boot niet\nte doen zinken; deze was dus buiten gevecht gesteld, maar daar de andere\nboot nog volhield, besloten wij op deze alleen te vuren.\nTerwijl dit geschiedde had een van de drie achterste booten, die de\nandere twee vooruitgeraakt was, de door ons gehavende boot bereikt, en\nwij zagen naderhand, dat zij er het volk uit had overgenomen. Wij riepen\nde voorste boot weder aan, en boden eenen wapenstilstand aan, om te\nonderhandelen en te weten wat zij van ons wilden hebben, maar ontvingen\ngeen antwoord, terwijl zij nader onder onzen spiegel schoot. Hierop\nhaalde onze konstapel, die een vlugge knaap was, zijne twee jagers uit\nen gaf vuur op haar, zonder te treffen. Het volk in de boot juichte en\nwuifde met hunne mutsen; maar de konstapel had spoedig weder geladen, en\neen schot trof het volk, schoon het de boot miste, en deed veel kwaad\nonder hen, gelijk wij duidelijk zagen. Maar wij stoorden ons hieraan\nniet, maar wendden weder, en deden nog drie schoten, waarmede wij de\nboot bijkans verbrijzelden, vooral was het roer en een deel van den\nsteven geheel weggeschoten; zij streken dus ijlings het zeil en waren\ngeheel in wanorde. Maar om hun ongeluk te voltooijen, gaf de konstapel\nnog tweemaal vuur op hen. Waar hij hen trof weet ik niet, maar de boot\nbegon te zinken en eenigen lagen reeds in het water. Dadelijk bemande ik\nhierop onze pinnas, die wij op zijde hadden liggen, met last om eenigen\nvan het volk, zoo het mogelijk was, te redden en dadelijk met hen aan\nboord te komen, omdat de andere booten ook opkwamen. Ons volk vischte\ndrie man op, waarvan een reeds half verdronken was, die wij eerst na\nveel moeite weder bijbragten. Zoo als zij aan boord waren, zetten wij\nzooveel zeil bij als wij konden en hielden zeewaarts, en toen de andere\ndrie booten bij de twee voorste gekomen waren, zagen wij, dat zij de\njagt opgaven.\nAldus van een gevaar bevrijd, dat veel grooter scheen, dan ik\nverwachtte, schoon ik er nog de reden niet van begreep, zorgde ik, dat\nwij onzen koers veranderden, zoodat niemand wist waar wij heengingen.\nWij legden dus eerst oostwaarts aan, geheel buiten het vaarwater van\nalle Europesche schepen, hetzij naar China of naar eenige andere\nhandelplaats. Toen wij op zee waren begonnen wij de beide zeelieden te\nondervragen naar de reden van dit alles. De Hollander helderde ons nu\nhet geheim op, zeggende, dat de kerel, die ons het schip verkocht had,\nniet anders dan een dief was, die met het schip was doorgegaan. Hij\nverhaalde vervolgens hoe de kapitein, dien hij mij noemde, doch wiens\nnaam mij ontgaan is, op de kust van Malacca, met drie van zijn volk,\nvermoord was geworden; en dat hij met nog vier anderen in het bosch\ngevlugt was, waar zij eenen geruimen tijd hadden rondgezworven, tot hij\nin het bijzonder zich gered had op een Hollandsen schip, dat daar eene\nboot aan wal gezonden had, om zoet water in te nemen.\nVervolgens verhaalde hij, hoe hij, op Batavia gekomen, twee matrozen van\nhet geroofde schip had ontmoet, die de overigen op reis verlaten hadden,\nen hoe deze hem gezegd hadden, dat de kerel, die met het schip\ndoorgegaan was, het in Bengalen aan een hoop zeeroovers verkocht had,\ndie er mede waren gaan kruisen, en dat zij reeds een Engelsch en twee\nHollandsche schepen genomen hadden, alle rijk geladen. Dit laatste\ngedeelte sloeg op ons, en schoon wij wisten dat het valsch was, echter,\ngelijk mijn compagnon aanmerkte, het ware vruchteloos geweest ons te\nverdedigen of lijfsbehoud van hen te verwachten, als wij in hunne handen\nwaren gevallen, terwijl zij zulk eene meening van ons koesterden, en te\nmeer, daar onze beschuldigers tevens onze regters waren en alleen naar\nhunne blinde driften te werk gingen. Hij sloeg derhalve voor, om\nregtstreeks naar Bengalen, vanwaar wij kwamen, terug te keeren, zonder\neenige haven aan te doen, omdat wij daar konden bewijzen, hoe wij aan\nhet schip gekomen waren. In alle gevallen, als wij genoodzaakt waren tot\nde regtbank ons te wenden, konden wij ten minste verwachten, volgens\nregten behandeld te worden, en niet eerst gehangen en dan ons proces\nopgemaakt te worden.\nEenigen tijd dacht ik er ook zoo over, maar na rijp overleg zeide ik\nhem, dat ik het zeer gevaarlijk achtte, om naar Bengalen te willen\nterugkeeren, want daar wij tusschen de Moluccos waren, konden wij\nverwachten overal door de Hollanders en Engelschen aangevallen te\nworden, en als wij genomen werden, terwijl wij als het ware vlugtten,\nzouden wij ons eigen vonnis uitspreken, en men zou geen verder bewijs\ntegen ons noodig achten. Ik vroeg den Engelschen zeeman naar zijn\ngevoelen, die mij gelijk gaf, en het zeker achtte, dat wij genomen\nzouden worden. Dit gevaar smaakte mijn compagnon en het scheepsvolk\nweinig, en wij besloten naar de kust van Tonking en zoo naar China te\nstevenen, en daar op eene of andere wijze ons schip trachten te\nverkoopen, en met een vaartuig van het land, dat wij bekomen konden,\nterug te keeren. Dit werd goedgekeurd, en dus stevenden wij N. N.\nOostwaarts, en hielden ons ongeveer vijftig mijlen ten Oosten van het\ngewone vaarwater.\nDit had echter dat ongemak, dat wij gestadig tegenwind hadden, daar de\npassaat bijkans altijd uit het O. en O. N. O. blies, zoodat wij eene\nlange reis hadden, terwijl wij slecht van levensmiddelen voorzien waren,\nen wat nog erger was, er was eenige kans, dat die schepen, wier booten\nons vervolgd hadden, waarvan sommigen dien kant heen moesten, daar voor\nons waren aangekomen, of aan eenen anderen Chinavaarder tijding van ons\ngegeven hadden, en dat die ons even fel vervolgden. Ik moet bekennen,\ndat ik vrij ongerust was, en mij in den gevaarlijksten toestand achtte,\nwaarin ik mij nog ooit bevonden had. Want in welke hagchelijke\nomstandigheden ik ook geweest was, nimmer te voren was ik als een dief\nvervolgd, noch had ik ooit iets gedaan wat oneerlijk, ongeoorloofd, laat\nstaan diefachtig was. Ik was voornamelijk mijn eigen vijand geweest of\nliever niemand vijandig dan mijzelven. Maar nu was ik er zoo slim aan\ntoe als mogelijk was, want schoon volmaakt onschuldig, zag ik geene\nkans, om die onschuld te doen blijken, en als ik genomen mogt worden,\nzou dit zijn, omdat men mij hield voor eenen misdadiger van de ergste\nsoort, althans naar de schatting van die lieden, met welke ik te doen\nzou hebben.\nDit maakte mij hoogst ongerust, schoon ik niet wist hoe er mij uit te\nredden, noch waar ik zou heengaan. Mijn compagnon, die mij zoo\nneerslagtig zag, schoon hij in den beginne er het meest verzet van was\ngeweest, trachtte mij een riem onder het hart te steken, en terwijl hij\nmij de verschillende havens van die kust beschreef, zeide hij mij, dat\nhij op de kust van Cochinchina of de baai van Tonking zou binnenloopen,\nen daarna naar Macao gaan, eene stad, die vroeger aan de Portugezen\nbehoorde, en waar nog zeer vele Europe\u00ebrs woonden; voornamelijk de\nzendelingen, die gewoonlijk zich daarheen begeven, om vandaar naar China\nte gaan. Wij besloten daarheen te gaan, en na eene langdurige en\nmoeijelijke reis, terwijl wij slechts schraal van levensmiddelen\nvoorzien waren, kregen wij op eenen vroegen morgen de kust in het\ngezigt. Toen wij nadachten in welke gevaarlijke omstandigheden wij\nwaren, besloten wij een riviertje op te varen, dat smal maar diep genoeg\nvoor ons was, en te zien of wij, hetzij te land of met de sloep, te\nweten konden komen, welke schepen er in de havens daaromstreeks lagen.\nDit gelukkig besluit was ons behoud, want er lagen in de baai van\nTonking wel geene Europesche schepen, maar den volgenden morgen kwamen\ner twee Hollanders binnen en een derde schip, dat geen vlag voerde, maar\ndat wij ook voor eenen Hollander aanzagen, voer ons op twee mijlen\nafstands voorbij, koers zettende naar de Chinesche kust, en des\nnamiddags zagen wij twee Engelschen denzelfden koers houden, en dus\nzagen wij ons van alle kanten omringd van vijanden. De plaats waar wij\nlagen was dor en woest, het volk diefachtig; en schoon wij weinig met\nhen verlangden om te gaan, dan om eenigen leeftogt op te doen, was het\nechter dikwijls moeijelijk genoeg dat wij allen twist met hen konden\nvermijden.\nWij lagen op eene kleine rivier, op weinige mijlen afstands van het\nnoordelijk uiteinde van dat land, en met onze boot verkenden wij de kust\ntot aan het punt van de groote baai van Tonking, en op deze vaart langs\nde kust ontdekten wij, hoe wij als het ware van vijanden omringd waren.\nHet volk van dit land was het onbeschaafdste van al de kustbewoners\naldaar; het had geenerlei omgang met andere nati\u00ebn, en handelde alleen\nin visch en olie en dergelijke. Als een blijk van hunne woestheid, kan\nik vermelden, dat zij onder andere gewoonten ook die hebben, dat zoo\neenig schip bij ongeluk op hunne kust strandt, zij al het scheepsvolk\ntot gevangenen, dat wil zeggen tot slaven maken, en wij hadden weldra\neen blijk van hunne geaardheid bij de volgende gelegenheid.\nIk heb reeds gezegd, dat ons schip op zee een lek had gekregen, dat wij\neerst niet hadden kunnen stoppen; echter was het gelukkig digt gemaakt\nop het oogenblik, dat wij door de Hollandsche en Engelsche schepen bij\nde baai van Siam zouden genomen worden. Het schip was echter niet zoo\ndigt als het wel behoorde, en dus besloten wij, terwijl wij hier waren,\nonze zwaarste goederen aan wal te brengen, die gelukkig weinig waren, en\nhet schip te kalfaten en zooveel mogelijk de lekken te stoppen. Na dus\nhet schip verligt te hebben, en onze stukken en wat vervoerbaar was,\nnaar de eene zijde gebragt te hebben, haalden wij het op zijde, om bij\nden bodem te kunnen komen. De inboorlingen, die nimmer zoo iets gezien\nhadden, kwamen naar het strand, en toen zij het schip zoo op zijde zagen\nliggen, en ons volk niet zagen, dat aan de andere zijde op steigers en\nin booten aan het werk was, begrepen zij, dat het schip op zijde\ngeslagen was en aan den grond zat.\nIn deze meening kwamen zij allen, een paar uren later, met tien of\ntwaalf groote booten, waarin acht tot tien man waren, op ons af,\nongetwijfeld met oogmerk, om het schip te plunderen, en als zij ons\nvonden, als slaven weg te voeren naar hunnen koning of opperhoofd, want\nhoe zij geregeerd worden weet ik niet. Toen zij het schip genaderd\nwaren, en er rondom roeiden, zagen zij ons allen hard aan het werk aan\nde buitenzijde van het schip, wasschende en schrapende en stoppende,\ngelijk ieder zeeman weet hoe. Zij stonden eene poos naar ons te zien, en\nwij, die eenigzins verrast waren, konden ons niet verbeelden wat hun\noogmerk was; maar om zeker te gaan, lieten wij eenigen in het schip\ngaan, om aan de anderen, die aan het werk waren, wapens en kruid en lood\ntoe te reiken, om zich mede te verdedigen, als het noodig was. Het was\nspoedig noodig, want na een kwartier uurs beraadslaagd te hebben,\nschenen zij begrepen te hebben, dat wij werkelijk gestrand waren, en nu\nallen bezig waren, om het schip vlot te krijgen of ons met de sloepen te\nredden, en toen wij wapens in de booten lieten, begrepen zij, dat wij\neenige goederen trachtten te bergen. Zij begrepen, dat thans van zelve\nsprak, dat alles hun toekwam, en dus voeren zij in slagorde regt op ons\naan.\nOns volk werd verschrikt door hun aantal, want wij waren in eene\nongunstige positie om te vechten, en zij riepen ons toe, dat zij niet\nwisten, wat zij doen zouden. Ik gelastte dadelijk het volk dat op den\nsteiger werkte, om er af te komen, en hen, die in de booten waren, dat\nzij het schip omroeijen zouden en aan boord komen, terwijl de weinigen,\ndie met ons aan boord waren, alle krachten inspanden, om het schip\novereind te halen. Maar eer het volk op den steiger en dat in de booten\nkonden doen wat hun gelast was, hadden de Cochinchinezen hen ingehaald,\nen twee hunner booten kwamen onze sloep op zijde, en begonnen het volk\naan te pakken als hunne gevangenen.\nDe eerste, dien zij aangrepen, was een Engelsche matroos, een kloeke\nsterke kerel, die een geweer in de hand had, maar, in plaats van vuur te\ngeven, het in de boot nederlegde, zeer onverstandig naar mij dacht. Maar\nhij wist zeer goed wat hij deed, want hij greep den barbaar aan, en\nrukte hem uit zijne boot in de onze, waar hij hem bij de ooren greep en\nzijn hoofd zoo geweldig tegen het boord van de sloep stiet, dat de man\nonder zijne handen dood bleef. Een Hollander, die naast hem stond, nam\nterwijl het geweer op, en sloeg met de kolf zoo om zich heen, dat hij\nvier of vijf, die in de sloep wilden komen, nedervelde; maar dit hielp\nweinig tegen veertig of vijftig man, die onbevreesd, omdat zij hun\ngevaar niet kenden, in de andere sloep sprongen, waarin slechts vijf man\nwaren. Een toeval verschafte echter ons volk eene volkomene overwinning\nen bovendien vrij wat stof tot lagchen.\nOnze timmerman was namelijk bezig, de buitenzijde van het schip te\nbreeuwen en de naden te vullen, waar hij die gekalfaat had, om de lekken\nte stoppen, en had juist twee ketels in de boot gelaten, de een met\nkokende pik en de andere met harpuis, olie en smeer, gelijk de\nscheepsbreeuwers gebruiken, en de man, die bij hem was, had een grooten\nijzeren lepel in de hand, waarmede hij de lieden, die met dat kokende\ngoed werkten, er van voorzag. Twee vijanden stapten voor in de boot,\nwaar die man stond; hij bedeelde hen terstond met een lepel vol van zijn\nbrouwsel, dat hen zoo zengde en brandde, daar zij bijkans naakt waren,\ndat zij brullende als stieren in zee sprongen. De timmerman zag het en\nriep: \"Goed gedaan; Jaap! geef ze nog wat!\" en terwijl hij zelf voorop\nstond, nam hij een van de dwijlen, en doopte die in de harpuispot, en\nhij en zijne maats besproeiden hen zoo rijkelijk, dat van al het volk in\nde drie booten er niet een was, zonder duchtig gebrand en verschroeid te\nzijn; en zulk een gehuil en getier hieven zij aan, als ik nimmer gehoord\nhad. Ik mag hier wel opmerken, dat hoewel natuurlijk pijn iedereen\nschreeuwen doet, echter ieder volk eene bijzondere wijze van schreeuwen\nheeft, dat evenveel van elkander verschilt als hunne spraak. Ik kan het\ngeluid van deze kerels niet gepaster noemen dan gehuil, want nimmer\nhoorde ik iets, dat zoo naar wolvengehuil geleek, hetwelk ik op de\ngrenzen van Languedoc gehoord had, gelijk ik verhaald heb.\nNimmer baarde eene overwinning mij meer genoegen dan deze, niet alleen\nomdat wij zoo verrassend uit een waarlijk groot gevaar gered waren, maar\nvooral omdat wij haar zonder bloedvergieten bevochten hadden, behalve\nvan den man, dien de Engelschman met zijne handen doodgeslagen had, en\ndit was mij zeer aangenaam, want ik had eenen grooten weerzin in het\ndooden van zulke arme wilden, schoon het ook uit zelfverdediging\nontstond. Ik wist, dat zij hunne handelingen als geoorloofd beschouwden,\ndaar zij niet beter wisten, en schoon wij misschien regt hadden, omdat\nhet noodzakelijk was (want in de natuur is niets, wat onregt is,\nnoodzakelijk), echter achtte ik het droevig, tot ons zelfbehoud zoovele\nonzer medemenschen te moeten dooden; en ik zou tegenwoordig liever al\nvrij wat leed willen ondergaan, dan zelfs den slechtsten mensch die mij\nkwaad deed, het leven te benemen. Ik geloof, dat ieder redelijk denkend\nmensch, die de waarde des levens beseft, bij eenig nadenken, mij hierin\nzal toestemmen.\nMaar ik keer tot mijn verhaal terug. Terwijl dit gebeurde, hadden mijn\ncompagnon en ik met het overige volk aan boord het schip weder overeind\ngehaald, en de stukken weder op zijne plaats gebragt. De konstapel\nverzocht mij, de booten terug te roepen, want dat hij vuren wilde. Ik\nriep hem toe, geen vuur te geven, want de timmerman zou dat wel voor hem\nklaren, maar gelastte hem nog een ketel met harpuis te vuur te zetten,\nwaarvoor onze kok zorgde. De vijand was echter van de eerste ontvangst\nzoo voldaan, dat zij niet terugkwamen, en toen degenen, die het verst af\nwaren, het schip vlot zagen, schenen zij het raadzaam te achten, die\nonderneming op te geven. Hiermede eindigde dit koddig gevecht, en daar\nwij twee dagen te voren wat rijst en groenten en brood en zestien goede\nvarkens aan boord hadden gekregen, besloten wij dadelijk te vertrekken,\nwat er ook van komen mogt, want wij begrepen, dat wij den volgenden\nmorgen meer roovers om ons heen zouden zien, dan onze harpuisketel\nmogelijk kon verjagen. Derhalve bragten wij dien avond alles aan boord\nin orde, en waren den volgenden morgen zeilree. Nu wij op eenigen\nafstand van den wal voor anker lagen, waren wij niet zoo ongerust, daar\nwij gereed waren om te vechten of te vlugten, al naar het noodig was.\nDen volgenden morgen gingen wij onder zeil, en vonden dat ons schip\nthans geheel digt was. Wij wilden de baai van Tonking inloopen, want wij\nwenschten te weten wat daar bekend was omtrent de Hollandsche schepen,\ndie daar geweest waren, maar omdat wij verscheidene schepen derwaarts\nhadden zien stevenen, durfden wij er niet binnenloopen. Wij hielden dus\nN. Oostwaarts naar het eiland Formosa, evenzeer vreezende, een Engelsen\nof Hollandsch schip te zien, als een Engelsch of Hollandsch koopvaarder\nin de Middellandsche zee vreest een Algerijnschen kaper te zien.\nEenmaal in volle zee zijnde hielden wij het N. Oostwaarts, alsof wij\nnaar Manilla of de Philippijnsche eilanden wilden stevenen, ten einde\nbuiten het vaarwater der Europesche schepen te blijven, en toen weder\nNoordelijk tot op eene breedte van 22\u00b0 20', op welke wijze wij Formosa\nbereikten, waar wij ankerden, om water en levensmiddelen in te nemen.\nWij vonden de bewoners hier zeer beleefd en zij behandelden ons zeer\neerlijk en volkomen volgens overeenkomst, wat men niet altijd in alle\nlanden ondervindt, en hetgeen hier misschien ontsproot uit overblijfsel\nvan het Christendom, dat hier eenmaal door Hollandsche zendelingen\nverkondigd is. Dit bewijst wat ik overal gezien heb, dat de Christelijke\ngodsdienst altijd beschaving en betere zeden bewerkt, behalve hetgeen\nzij tot hun eeuwig welzijn bijdraagt.\nWij zeilden vervolgens Noordwaarts en hielden het op eenen afstand van\nde Chinesche kust, tot wij wisten, dat wij alle havens van China voorbij\nwaren, die gewoonlijk door Europe\u00ebrs bezocht worden, daar wij zoo\nmogelijk niet in hunne handen wilden vallen, hetgeen ons vooral in dit\nland geheel of gedeeltelijk in het verderf zou gestort hebben. Ik in het\nbijzonder was zoo bevreesd, van in hunne magt te geraken, dat ik liever\nin die der Spaansche inquisitie had willen zijn. Op 30\u00b0 gekomen,\nbesloten wij de eerste haven, die zich opdeed, binnen te loopen, en toen\nwij op twee mijlen afstands van de kust waren, kwam een oude\nPortugesche loods bij ons aan boord, om zijne dienst aan te bieden, die\nwij aannamen. Zonder te vragen waar wij heen wilden, zond hij daarop\nzijne boot weg, waarmede hij gekomen was. Daar ik begreep, dat wij ons\nthans door den ouden man konden laten brengen, waar wij wilden, begon ik\nmet hem te spreken, om ons naar de golf van Nanking, het noordelijkste\npunt van de kust van China, te voeren. De oude man zeide, dat hij daar\nzeer goed bekend was, maar vroeg wat wij daar doen wilden. Ik zeide: er\nonze lading verkoopen en er calicots, thee, ruwe en gewerkte zijde enz.\nvoor nemen, en zoo denzelfden weg terugkeeren. Hij antwoordde, dat de\ngeschiktste haven daartoe Macao geweest was, waar wij eene goede\ngelegenheid voor onzen opium zouden gevonden hebben, en voor ons geld\neven goede Chinesche produkten konden inkoopen als te Nanking. Ik kon\nden ouden man van dit denkbeeld niet afbrengen, en zeide dus, dat wij\nniet alleen om handel te drijven reisden, maar ook om de wereld te zien,\nen dat wij de groote stad Peking en het vermaarde hof van den Chineschen\nkeizer verlangden te zien. \"Wel, dan moest gij naar Ningpo gaan,\" zeide\nde oude man, \"waar de rivier, die daar in zee valt, u binnen vijf mijlen\nin het groote kanaal brengt. Dit kanaal is een bevaarbaar gemaakte\nstroom, die het geheele Chinesche rijk doorloopt, al de rivieren\ndoorkruist, met behulp van sluizen over verscheidene groote heuvels\ngeleid is, en tot Peking loopt, zijnde 270 mijlen lang.\"\n\"Goed,\" zeide ik, \"maar dit is thans ons zoeken niet; de vraag is: of\ngij ons naar Nanking kunt brengen, vanwaar wij later naar Peking kunnen\ngaan?\" Hij antwoordde van ja, en dat kort geleden nog een Hollandsch\nschip derwaarts gegaan was. Dit deed mij schrikken, want wij waren thans\nbanger voor een Hollandsch schip dan voor den duivel. Wij waren niet in\nstaat het te bevechten, want hunne schepen, die daarop varen, zijn veel\ngrooter en sterker bemand dan het onze. De oude man zag mijne onrust en\nzeide: \"Gij behoeft voor de Hollanders niet te vreezen, mijnheer! want\nik geloof niet, dat zij thans met uw volk in oorlog zijn,\"--\"Neen,\"\nzeide ik, \"maar wie weet wat zij doen, als zij buiten het bereik der\nwetten van hun land zijn.\"--\"Wel,\" zeide hij, \"gij zijt geene\nzeeroovers, waarvoor zoudt gij bang zijn? Zij zullen een vreedzaam\nkoopvaarder wel ongemoeid laten.\" Zoo al mijn bloed niet naar mijn\ngelaat vloog bij deze woorden, was het zeker, dat het in mijne aderen\nverstijfde. Ik geraakte in de grootste verwarring en de oude man\nbespeurde dit dadelijk.\n\"Mijnheer!\" zeide hij, \"het schijnt, dat mijne woorden u eenigzins\nverontrusten, zeg slechts welken weg gij gaan wilt, en ik zal u van\ndienst zijn, wat ik kan.\"--\"Het is waar,\" hernam ik, \"ik ben\nbesluiteloos, waar ik heen wil gaan, en vooral na hetgeen gij van\nzeeroovers zegt. Ik hoop, dat er hier geene zwerven, want ik zou slecht\ntegen hen bestand zijn; gij ziet dat wij niet sterk gewapend en slechts\nzwak bemand zijn.\"--\"Vrees niet,\" antwoordde hij, \"ik weet niet, dat er\nin de laatste vijftien jaren hier zeeroovers geweest zijn, behalve dat\ner een, naar ik gehoord heb, eene maand geleden in de baai van Siam\ngezien is, en die is stellig Zuidwaarts gegaan; ook was het geen schip,\ndat zeer sterk of geschikt daartoe was. Het was niet voor een kaper\ngebouwd, maar eenige schurken daar aan boord waren er mede doorgegaan,\nnadat de kapitein en eenigen van het volk op of bij het eiland Sumatra\nvermoord waren.\"\n\"Wat!\" zeide ik, mij houdende alsof ik van niets wist, \"hebben zij den\nkapitein vermoord?\"--\"Neen,\" zeide hij, \"dat zeg ik niet, maar daar zij\nnaderhand met het schip doorgingen, gelooft men algemeen, dat zij hem\naan de Maleijers verraden hebben, die hem, misschien op hun aanstoken,\nvermoord hebben.\"--\"Dan verdienen zij evenzeer den dood, alsof zij het\nzelf gedaan hadden,\" zeide ik.--\"Zeker verdienen zij dien,\" hervatte de\noude man, \"en zij zullen dien ook ondergaan, als zij een Engelsch of\nHollandsch schip ontmoeten, want allen hebben besloten, die schurken\ngeen kwartier te geven, als zij hen aantreffen.\"\n\"Maar,\" zeide ik, \"gij zegt, dat de zeeroover deze zee\u00ebn heeft verlaten;\nhoe kunnen zij hem dan aantreffen?\"--\"Het is waar, dat men dit zegt,\"\nhernam hij, \"maar zoo als ik zeide, werd hij in de baai van Siam, op de\nrivier Cambodia ontdekt door eenige Hollanders, die daar aan boord\ngeweest en achtergebleven waren, toen men met het schip doorging, en\ndaar eenige Engelsche en Hollandsche koopvaarders op de rivier lagen,\nwas hij bijkans genomen. Zoo slechts de voorste booten door de achterste\ngoed ondersteund waren geworden, dan hadden zij hem zeker genomen; maar\nhij vuurde op hen, en koos toen de ruimte, voordat de andere opkwamen.\nZij hebben het schip echter zoo goed beschreven, dat het dadelijk\nherkend moet worden, en zij hebben gezworen, den kapitein en de matrozen\ngeen kwartier te geven, maar aan de nok van de groote ra op te\nhangen,\"--\"Zoo,\" zeide ik, \"zal men hen straffen, schuldig of\nonschuldig; eerst hen ophangen en dan hun proces opmaken?\"--\"Och!\" zeide\nde oude loods, \"met zulke schurken behoeft zooveel omslag niet gemaakt;\nlaat men hen rug aan rug binden en dan de voeten spoelen; zulke schurken\nverdienen niet beter.\"\nIk wist, dat ik den ouden man vast aan boord had, en hij mij geen kwaad\nkon doen, dus zeide ik driftig: \"Welnu, senhor! juist daarom wil ik,\ndat gij ons naar Nanking en niet naar Macao of ergens waar Hollandsche\nen Engelsche schepen komen, brengt; want laat mij u zeggen, dat die\nEngelsche en Hollandsche kapiteins een troep laatdunkende schoften zijn,\ndie volstrekt niet weten wat de regtvaardigheid, noch wat goddelijke en\nmenschelijke wetten eischen, maar die, trotsch op hun gezag, hunne magt\nte buiten gaan, en als moordenaars willen handelen, om zeeroovers te\nstraffen, en menschen, die ten onregte beschuldigd zijn, kwaad zouden\ndoen en hen zonder onderzoek schuldig verklaren; en misschien zal ik nog\neens eenigen ter verantwoording roepen, waar zij leeren kunnen, hoe de\ngeregtigheid gehandhaafd moet worden, en dat men niemand veroordeelen\nmag, zonder bewijs van de misdaad en dat hij die bedreven heeft.\"\nHierop verhaalde ik hem, dat juist dit schip aangevallen was, en alles\nwat er met de sloepen bij hunnen aanval gebeurd was, hoe wij aan het\nvaartuig gekomen waren, en hoe de Hollander ons gewaarschuwd had. Ik\nzeide hem, dat ik geloofde, dat de kapitein door de Maleijers vermoord\nwas geworden, en ook dat de matrozen met het schip doorgegaan waren;\nmaar dat de zeerooverij een bloot verzinsel van hen was, en van de\nwaarheid daarvan hadden zij zeker moeten zijn, eer zij ons zoo\nverraderlijk overvielen, en ik voegde er bij, dat het bloed, dat wij in\nonze regtmatige verdediging vergoten hadden, ter hunner verantwoording\nkwam.\nDe oude man stond zeer verbaasd, en gaf ons volkomen gelijk, dat wij\nNoordwaarts gehouden hadden, maar raadde ons om het schip in China te\nverkoopen, dat zeer goed gaan zou, en daar een ander te koopen of te\nlaten bouwen. \"Al is het dan ook zoo goed niet,\" zeide hij, \"dan zal het\nu en uwe goederen toch naar Bengalen of elders kunnen brengen.\" Ik\nzeide, dat ik hierover denken zou, als ik in eene haven kwam, waar ik\neen kooper voor dit schip of een ander vaartuig voor mij vinden kon. Hij\nzeide, dat ik te Nanking koopers genoeg zou vinden, en met eene\nChinesche jonk kon ik de thuisreis wel doen, en hij zou mij beide wel\nverschaffen.--\"Maar,\" zeide ik, \"daar het schip, gelijk gij zegt, zoo\ngoed bekend is, zal ik, als ik uw raad volg, misschien eenige\nonschuldige menschen in groot gevaar brengen, en welligt oorzaak zijn,\ndat zij in koelen bloede vermoord worden; want alleen om het schip\nzullen zij hen als schuldig houden.\"--\"Dat is zoo,\" hernam de oude man,\n\"maar ik weet een middel om dat te beletten; ik ken al de kapiteins zeer\ngoed en zal hen allen opzoeken, als zij voorbijgaan, en hen de zaak\nophelderen, en zij zullen mij zeker in zoo verre althans gelooven, dat\nzij in het vervolg voorzigtiger zullen te werk gaan.\"\nWij bleven middelerwijl koers zetten naar Nanking, en na dertien dagen\nzeilens ankerden wij aan de Z.W. punt van Nanking, waar ik toevallig\nvernam, dat de twee groote Hollandsche schepen mij voorgegaan waren en\nik onfeilbaar in hunne handen vallen zou. Ik raadpleegde mijnen\ncompagnon, die even zoo verlegen was als ik, en gaarne overal behouden\naan wal had willen zijn. Ik vroeg den ouden loods, of er geene kreek of\nhaven hier omstreeks was, waarin ik zonder gevaar met de Chinezen\nhandelen kon. Hij zeide mij, dat ongeveer twee\u00ebnveertig mijlen\nZuidwaarts eene haven, Quinchang, was, waar de paters zendelingen\ngewoonlijk van Macao landden, als zij het Christendom in China gingen\nverkondigen, en waar nimmer Europesche schepen binnenkwamen, en als ik\ndaar was, kon ik zien hoedanig ik verder handelen wilde. Het was echter\ngeene geschikte plaats om handel te drijven, behalve dat er somtijds\neene soort van jaarmarkt gehouden werd, waarop de kooplieden van Japan\nkwamen om Chinesche waren te koopen. Wij besloten naar die haven te\ngaan, wier naam ik misschien niet juist opgeef, daar ik dien met eenige\nanderen in een zakboekje opgeschreven had, dat bij toeval in het water\nviel; maar ik herinner mij, dat de Chinesche en Japansche kooplieden het\nanders noemden, dan onze Portugesche loods, ongeveer als ik zeide:\nQuinchang. Den volgenden dag gingen wij onder zeil, na slechts tweemaal\naan wal geweest te zijn, om zoet water in te nemen, en beide keeren\nwaren de inboorlingen zeer beleefd, en bragten ons eene menigte goederen\nals groenten, thee, rijst en eenig gevogelte, maar zij gaven niets\nzonder geld.\nDoor tegenwind kwamen wij eerst na vijf dagen aan de andere haven. Wij\nwaren zeer verheugd en ik dankte den hemel hartelijk, toen ik mijne\nvoeten behouden aan wal zette, en besloot, even als mijn compagnon, op\niedere andere redelijke wijze met ons goed elders te gaan, liever dan\nweder een voet op dit heilloos vaartuig te zetten; en waarlijk, onder\nalle omstandigheden mijns levens heb ik ondervonden, dat niets iemand\nzoo ongelukkig maakt als voortdurende vrees. Teregt zegt de Heilige\nSchrift: \"De vrees van den mensch brengt hem in eenen strik;\" het is een\nleven des doods, en de geest wordt zoo gedrukt, dat hij tot alle\ninspanning buiten staat is. In ons geval deed de vrees hare gewone\nuitwerking, namelijk door elk gevaar te verhoogen; alle Engelsche of\nHollandsche kapiteins te beschouwen als menschen, die geene reden\nverstonden, eerlijke lieden niet van schelmen, noch een geheel verzonnen\nverhaal van een waarachtig verslag van onze reis en ons oogmerk konden\nonderscheiden. Ieder verstandig mensch toch hadden wij kunnen\novertuigen, dat wij geene zeeroovers waren. De goederen, die wij aan\nboord hadden, onze koers, de wijze waarop wij ons vertoonden en deze en\ndie havens binnenliepen, onze zwakke bemanning en weinige\nkrijgsbehoeften en leeflogt, alles had iedereen moeten overtuigen, dat\nwij geene zeeroovers waren. De opium en andere goederen, die wij aan\nboord hadden, bewezen dat wij van Bengalen kwamen; de Hollander, die,\nnaar men zeide, de namen kende van het volk, dat op het schip was\ngeweest, kon gemakkelijk zien, dat ons volk uit Engelschen, Portugezen\nen Hindoes bestond, en dat wij slechts twee Hollanders aan boord hadden.\nDeze en vele andere bijzonderheden hadden een kapitein, als wij in zijne\nhanden gevallen waren, moeten overtuigen, dat wij geene zeeschuimers\nwaren. Maar de vrees, die blinde en nuttelooze hartstogt, verbijsterde\nons geheel en al, en spiegelde ons duizend ijselijkheden voor, die\nmisschien nimmer konden gebeuren. Wij onderstelden, dat de Engelschen en\nHollanders, vooral de laatsten, zoo woedend waren, dat wij hunne sloepen\nafgeslagen hadden, dat zij zich met geen onderzoek zouden inlaten, of\nwij zeeroovers waren of niet, maar ons ter dood brengen, zonder naar\nonze verdediging te hooren. Wij hielden ons voor, dat werkelijk in vele\nopzigten de schijn zoo tegen ons was, dat zij aan geen verder onderzoek\nzouden denken. Vooreerst toch was het schip hetzelfde, gelijk sommige\nzeelieden wisten, die er aan boord geweest waren; en ten tweede, dat\ntoen wij de tijding kregen, dat hunne sloepen op ons afkwamen, wij deze\nbevochten en daarop de vlugt kozen, zoodat dit hen ten volle overtuigen\nmoest, dat wij zeeroovers waren; gelijk ik in hun geval niet aarzelen\nzou, al het scheepsvolk, dat in zulke omstandigheden gevangen genomen\nwerd, daarvoor te houden.\nHoe het ook zij, deze angst kwelde ons; en zoowel mijn compagnon als ik\ndroomden schier elken nacht van galg en strop en gevangenneming, van te\ndooden of gedood te worden, en op zekeren nacht werd ik in mijnen droom\nzoo woedend, dat ik meende, dat een Hollandsch schip ons enterde en ik\neen matroos nedervelde, dat ik met mijne vuist zoo geweldig tegen het\nbeschot van de kajuit, sloeg, dat ik mij geweldig kneusde. De pijn deed\nmij ontwaken, en ik vreesde eerst, dat ik twee vingers verliezen zou.\nNog eene vrees kwelde mij, namelijk die voor eene wreede behandeling.\nToen herinnerde ik mij den moord van Amboina, en hoe wreed de Hollanders\ndaar te werk waren gegaan, en hoe zij thans eenige onzer ook ligt door\npijnigingen de bekentenis konden afpersen, dat wij zeeroovers waren, en\ndan zouden zij ons met eenen schijn van regt ter dood brengen; de winst\nvan ons schip en lading was eene groote verzoeking hiertoe, want met\nelkander was dit wel vier of vijfduizend Pond st. waardig. Dit alles\nontrustte mijn compagnon en mij dag en nacht. Wij troostten ons met de\ngedachte, dat koopvaardijkapiteins het regt niet hebben, om zoo te\nhandelen, en dat, als wij ons aan hen gevangen gaven, zij onzen dood of\npijniging zouden moeten verantwoorden in hun land; maar als zij ons zoo\nbehandelden, wat kon het ons baten, dat zij daarvoor ter verantwoording\ngeroepen werden; als wij dood waren, wat baatte het ons of zij daarvoor\nlater gestraft werden.\nIk kan niet nalaten hier mijne gedachten te vermelden over mijne\nomstandigheden, hoe hard ik het achtte, dat ik, die na een veertigjarig\nleven vol ongemakken, als het ware in de haven gekomen, waarnaar\niedereen verlangt, namelijk die van rust en overvloed, vrijwillig door\nmijne eigene dwaze verkiezing, nieuwe rampen in den mond was geloopen,\nvooral dat ik, die in mijne jeugd aan zoovele gevaren ontkomen was, nu\nop mijnen ouden dag, in zulk eene afgelegene plaats opgehangen moest\nworden, voor eene misdaad, waaraan ik niet eens gedacht, laat staan die\nbegaan had, zonder dat mijne onschuld mij kon beschermen.\nSomwijlen bedacht ik, dat ik mij aan alles wat de Voorzienigheid over\nmij besloten had, moest onderwerpen, en dat, hoezeer ook onschuldig voor\nde menschen, ik echter niet schuldeloos voor mijnen Schepper was, en dat\nik behoorde na te gaan door welken misstap ik mij deze straf op den hals\nhad gehaald, en mij daaraan te onderwerpen, even als aan eene schipbreuk\nof anderen rampspoed, die het God behagen mogt mij toe te zenden.\nOp andere tijden kwam de stoutmoedigheid boven, en dan nam ik het\nbesluit, om mij niet in koelen bloede door onmededoogende lieden te\nlaten mishandelen; beter ware het in de handen der kannibalen te vallen,\ndie mij dooden en verslinden, maar niet onmenschelijk pijnigen zouden.\nIk had altijd besloten, mij tegen de wilden tot den laatsten droppel\nbloeds te verdedigen, en waarom dan nu niet, daar het mij althans\nvreeselijker toescheen in de handen der Europe\u00ebrs te vallen. Als deze\ngedachten bij mij opkwamen, begon mijn bloed te koken en mijne oogen te\nfonkelen, en ik besloot, mij zoolang te verdedigen als ik kon, en als\ndit niet langer mogelijk was, het schip in de lucht te laten springen.\nMaar hoe heviger onze bekommering hierover was, des te grooter was onze\nvreugde toen wij behouden aan wal waren. Mijn compagnon zeide, dat hij\ngedroomd had, hoe hij met eene zware lading een heuvel moest opstijgen,\nen dat zijne krachten hem begaven, maar toen kwam de Portugesche loods\nen nam hem zijne lading af, en zijn weg werd effen. En waarlijk ons\nallen was een pak van het hart genomen. Ook ik was van eenen last\nontheven, dien ik niet langer kon dragen, en wij besloten niet weder met\ndit schip in zee te gaan. Toen wij aan wal waren, bezorgde de Portugees,\ndien wij thans als een vriend beschouwden, ons een verblijf voor ons en\neen pakhuis voor onze goederen; het was een klein huis met een groot\nhuis er aangetrokken, geheel van bamboes gebouwd en rondom met groote\nbamboezen gepalissadeerd, om de dieven te weren, die daar naar het\nschijnt in overvloed waren. De overheid stond ons echter bovendien een\nwacht toe, namelijk een soldaat, die met eene soort van hellebaard voor\nde deur op schildwacht stond, en dien wij eenige rijst en eenig geld,\nter waarde van drie stuivers dagelijks, gaven, zoodat onze goederen\nveilig waren.\nDe gewone jaarmarkt was hier reeds voorbij, echter vonden wij eenige\njonken op de rivier en twee schepen uit Japan met goederen, die zij in\nChina gekocht hadden, en die nog niet vertrokken waren, omdat de\neigenaars zich aan wal bevonden.\nHet eerste wat onze loods deed, was, dat hij ons in kennis bragt met\ndrie Roomsche zendelingen, die eenigen tijd in de stad geweest waren, om\nde inboorlingen te bekeeren. Ik geloof, dat zij weinig bekeerlingen\nmaakten, doch dit ging ons niet aan. Een hunner was een Franschman,\nvader Simon genaamd, een hupsch, opgeruimd man, en van geen zoo ernstig\nen statig voorkomen als de twee anderen, een Genuees en een Portugees.\nVader Simon was beleefd en vrolijk in gezelschap; de anderen waren\nterughoudender en schenen ijverig in hunne zaak, namelijk om met de\ninboorlingen om te gaan en met hen te spreken. Wij aten dikwijls met\nhen, maar ik moet bekennen, dat schoon hunne bekeeringen zich meestal\nbepaalden met den naam van Christus te leeren uitspreken, eenige gebeden\ntot de H. Maagd en Christus te doen, in eene taal, die zij niet\nverstonden, deze zendelingen echter vast vertrouwen, dat dit tot het\neeuwig heil van hunne bekeerlingen strekt. In dit vertrouwen verduren\nzij niet alleen de moeijelijkheden der reis en de gevaren aan hun\nverblijf alhier verknocht, maar zij ondergaan soms welgemoed den dood en\nde akeligste folteringen. Hoe wij ook over hunnen arbeid denken, wij\nmoeten altijd eerbied hebben voor hunnen ijver, die hen zoovele gevaren\ndoet trotseren, zonder eenig uitzigt op wereldlijk voordeel.\nDoch om tot mijn verhaal terug te keeren. Vader Simon was, naar het\nschijnt, door den superior der zending gelast, om naar Peking, het\nverblijf van den keizer, te gaan, en daar een ander priester af te\nwachten, die van Macao derwaarts zou gaan; en dan met dezen verder te\ntrekken. Wij spraken hem bijkans nimmer of hij drong bij ons aan, om met\nhem die reis te doen, zeggende, dat hij mij alle merkwaardigheden van\ndit magtige rijk, en onder anderen de grootste stad der wereld zou laten\nzien; \"eene stad,\" zeide hij, \"veel grooter dan Londen en Parijs te\nzamen.\" Hier meende hij Peking mede, dat zeker zeer groot en ontzettend\nbevolkt is, maar daar ik de zaken niet zoo als alle menschen beschouw,\nzal ik mijn gevoelen in het vervolg mijner reis daarover zeggen.\nOm tot mijnen zendeling weder te keeren. Op zekeren dag, dat wij zamen\nvrolijk aan tafel zaten, toonde ik eenigen flaauwen lust, om met hem\nmede te gaan, en hij drong er bij mij en mijnen compagnon op nieuw sterk\nop aan. \"Maar vader Simon!\" zeide mijn compagnon, \"hoe verlangt gij zoo\nnaar ons gezelschap? Gij weet, dat wij ketters zijn, die gij niet\nliefhebben kunt, noch met genoegen er mede in gezelschap zijn.\"--\"O,\"\nantwoordde hij, \"misschien wordt gij met den tijd nog goede katholijken;\nmijne taak is hier de heidenen te bekeeren, wie weet of ik u ook nog\nniet bekeer?\"--\"Mooi, vader!\" zeide ik, \"dan zult gij ons den geheelen\nweg over voorprediken?\"--\"Ik zal u niet tot last zijn,\" zeide hij. \"Onze\ngodsdienst belet ons niet welvoegelijk te zijn; bovendien zijn wij hier,\nals het ware, landslieden, en schoon gij een protestant zijt en ik een\nkatholijk ben, zijn wij toch beide Christenen, en in allen geval beide\nbeschaafde lieden, en dus kunnen wij met elkander omgaan, zonder\nelkander tot last te zijn.\" Dit antwoord beviel mij zeer, en deed mij\ndenken aan den jongen priester, dien ik in Brazili\u00eb achtergelaten had;\ndoch bij wiens karakter dat van vader Simon niet halen kon, want schoon\nmen hem geene laakbare ligtgeloovigheid kon te last leggen, bezat hij\nechter niet dien Christelijken ijver en die opregte godsvrucht en\nvroomheid van dien waardigen geestelijke.\nWij zullen hem een oogenblik daarlaten, schoon hij nimmer ophield met\naandringen, dat ik met hem zou gaan; maar wij hadden thans andere\nzorgen; want ons schip en onze lading lag ons nog op den hals, en wij\nwisten niet wat wij er mede doen zouden, want op deze plaats was weinig\nhandel, en eens stond ik op het punt om naar Nanking te zeilen; doch de\nVoorzienigheid scheen thans zigtbaar voor ons te waken, en ik begon te\nhopen eenmaal mijn vaderland te zullen wederzien, schoon ik nog niet\nwist op welke wijze. In de eerste plaats bragt onze oude Portugesche\nloods een Japanschen koopman bij ons, die ons vroeg, welke goederen wij\nhadden. Hij kocht ons dadelijk al onzen opium af tot een zeer goeden\nprijs, en betaalde ons in goud, bij het gewigt, gedeeltelijk in\nJapansche muntstukjes, en gedeeltelijk aan staafjes van tien of twaalf\noncen. Terwijl wij met hem over den opium handelden, kwam het bij mij\nop, dat hij het schip misschien ook wel koopen wilde, en ik zeide den\ntolk, om hem dit voor te slaan. Hij haalde bij het eerste voorstel de\nschouders op; maar hij kwam eenige dagen daarna terug met een van de\nzendelingen, om hem tot tolk te dienen, en zeide, dat hij mij eenen\nvoorslag te doen had. Hij had namelijk eene menigte goederen van ons\ngekocht, zonder eenige gedachten te hebben, dat hem het schip te koop\nzou geboden worden; en hij had er dus nu geen geld voor; maar als wij\nhetzelfde volk daar aan boord wilden laten, wilde hij het schip huren,\nom naar Japan te gaan, en het vandaar met eene andere lading, waarvan\nhij de vracht betalen zou, naar de Philippijnsche eilanden zenden, en\nals het terugkwam zou hij het schip koopen. Ik had hier wel ooren naar,\nen zoo zat het zwerven mij nog in het hoofd, dat ik lust kreeg, om mede\nte gaan, en van de Philippijnsche eilanden naar de Zuidzee te gaan, en\ndus vroeg ik aan den Japanees, of hij ons niet huren wilde tot aan de\nPhilippijnsche eilanden en ons daar ontslaan. Hij zeide neen, want dan\nkon hij geene retour voor zijne lading krijgen, maar hij wilde ons in\nJapan, als het schip terugkwam, wel ontslaan. Ik stond op het punt, om\nhierin toe te stemmen, maar mijn compagnon, die verstandiger was dan ik,\nbragt er mij van af, en hield mij de gevaren voor, zoowel van deze zee\u00ebn\nals van de Japanezen, die een wreed, arglistig volk zijn, en van de\nSpanjaarden op de Philippijnsche eilanden, die nog veel wreeder,\narglistiger en verraderlijker zijn.\nOm dit verhaal van onze zaken te bekorten, moet ik vermelden, dat wij\neerstelijk den kapitein en het volk vroegen of zij genegen waren, om\nnaar Japan te gaan, en terwijl dit gebeurde, kwam de jonge man, dien\nmijn neef, gelijk ik verhaald heb, bij mij achtergelaten had, bij mij en\nzeide, dat hij deze reis als zeer voordeelig zullende zijn beschouwde,\nen dat hij gaarne zou zien, dat ik medeging, maar als ik dit niet wilde,\nmaar hem verlof geven, dat hij dan als koopman mede zou gaan, of zoo als\nik zou goedvinden, om hem aan te stellen, dat zoo hij in Engeland\nterugkwam en mij daar in leven vond, hij mij getrouwe rekening zou\nafleggen, en dat ik hem dan kon afstaan wat ik wilde. Ik had weinig\nlust, om van hem te scheiden, maar als ik de voordeelige vooruitzigten\noverwoog, en dat hij een jongman was, op wien men rekenen kon, besloot\nik er toe, maar zeide, dat ik eerst mijn compagnon wilde spreken, en hem\nden volgenden dag zou antwoorden. Mijn compagnon deed mij een zeer\nedelmoedig voorstel. \"Gij weet,\" zeide hij, \"dat dit een ongelukkig\nschip is, en dat wij er niet weder mede in zee willen steken; als uw\nhofmeester (zoo noemde hij hem) het wagen wil, zal ik mijn aandeel in\nhet schip aan hem overlaten, en als wij elkander in Engeland aantreffen,\nen het is hem wel gegaan, zal hij ons de helft van de lading\nverantwoorden en de andere helft zal voor hem zijn.\"\nToen mijn compagnon, voor wien de jonge man een vreemdeling was, zulk\neen voorstel deed, kon ik niet wel minder doen, en daar al het\nscheepsvolk de reis wilde doen, droegen wij de helft van het schip aan\nhem in eigendom over, en ik liet hem eene verbindtenis teekenen voor de\nandere helft, en daarop vertrok hij naar Japan. De Japansche koopman was\neen zeer braaf, eerlijk man; hij beschermde hem te Japan en bezorgde hem\neene vergunning om aan den wal te komen, hetgeen voor eenen Europe\u00ebr\nzeer moeijelijk gaat. Hij betaalde prompt de vracht, en zond hem toen\nnaar de Philippijnsche eilanden met Japansche en Chinesche goederen,\nwaarvoor hij van de Spanjaarden Europesche goederen en eene menigte\nnagelen en specerijen inhandelde; en toen hij te Japan teruggekomen was\nen eene zeer goede vracht ontving, en hij geen lust had om het schip te\nverkoopen, bezorgde de koopman hem goederen voor zijne eigene rekening,\nwaarmede hij weder naar Manilla ging. Hier wist hij zijn schip vrij te\nkrijgen en de gouverneur huurde het, om naar Acapulco op de kust van\nMexico te gaan; en gaf hem eene vergunning, om aldaar te landen, naar\nMexico te gaan, en op een Spaansch schip met al zijn volk naar Europa te\ngaan. Hij kwam gelukkig te Acapulco en verkocht daar zijn schip, en\nontving verlof om te land naar Porto Bello te gaan, vanwaar hij kans\nzag, om naar Jamaica te komen, en acht jaren later kwam hij als een\nschatrijk man in Engeland. Doch ik keer tot onze zaken terug.\nNu wij het schip en scheepsvolk verlieten, moesten wij natuurlijk\ndenken, hoe wij de twee mannen beloonen zouden, die ons zoo van pas\ngewaarschuwd hadden, voor het gevaar, dat wij op de rivier Cambodia\nliepen. Het was waar, dat zij ons eene groote dienst gedaan en wij hun\nveel schuldig waren; schoon het toch een paar groote schurken waren,\nwant daar zij geloofden dat wij zeeroovers en werkelijk met het schip\ndoorgegaan waren, kwamen zij ons niet alleen waarschuwen voor hetgeen\nmen tegen ons voornemens was, maar om met ons als zeeroovers in zee te\nsteken; en een hunner liet zich naderhand eens ontvallen, dat alleen de\nhoop om op zeeroof uit te gaan hem daartoe had overgehaald. Dit\nverminderde echter de dienst niet, die zij ons bewezen hadden, en daar\nik beloofd had hun dankbaar te zullen zijn, gelastte ik hun eerst de\ngaadje te betalen, die zij zeiden, dat zij op hun vorig schip te goed\nhadden gehad, dat wil zeggen den Engelschman negentien en den Hollander\nzeven maanden gaadje; en bovendien gaf ik hun eenig goud, waarmede zij\nzeer tevreden waren, en maakte den Engelschman konstapel aan boord, daar\nde konstapel thans tweede stuurman en schrijver was geworden, en den\nHollander maakte ik bootsman. Zoo waren zij beide zeer in hun schik en\ntevens van veel dienst, want het waren bekwame zeelieden en moedige\nkerels.\nWij waren thans in China aan wal. Zoo ik in Bengalen mij ver van mijn\nvaderland had geacht, waar ik op verschillende wijzen voor mijn geld\nnaar huis kon keeren, wat moest ik dan nu denken, nu ik er ongeveer\nduizend mijlen verder af was, en zonder eenig vooruitzigt om derwaarts\nte kunnen gaan. Het eenigste was dat er op de plaats waar wij waren,\nover vier maanden weder eene markt zou gehouden worden, waarop wij\nallerlei goederen konden inslaan, en welligt een of andere Chinesche\njonk koopen, om ons te brengen waar wij wilden. Ik besloot dus hierop te\nwachten, en misschien, daar wij voor onze personen niets te vreezen\nhadden, konden wij, als een Hollandsen of Engelsen schip hier kwam, onze\ngoederen daarin laden en er mede hier of daar in Indi\u00eb komen, waar wij\naltijd digter bij huis waren. In afwachting daarvan deden wij tot ons\nvermaak twee of drie reizen landwaarts in. Eerstelijk deden wij een reis\nvan tien dagen naar Nanking om dat te zien, eene stad die het wel\nverdient. Men Zegt, dat het een millioen bewoners heeft, wat ik echter\nniet geloof; de stad is regelmatig gebouwd, met regte straten, die\nelkander regthoekig doorsnijden, hetgeen zeer goed staat.\nToen ik echter de jammerlijke bewoners met onze landgenooten vergeleek,\nhunne fabrieken, hunne levenswijs, hunne regering, hunne godsdienst, hun\nrijkdom en pracht (gelijk men die somtijds noemt), dan moet ik bekennen,\ndat die geene melding verdient, en evenmin waardig is beschreven als\ngelezen te worden. Het is opmerkelijk, dat wij ons altijd zoo verwonderd\nhebben over de grootheid, rijkdom, luister, ceremoni\u00ebn, regering,\nmanufacturen, handel en zeden van dit volk; niet omdat dit alles zoo\nbewonderenswaardig is, maar omdat wij aldaar niet die onbeschaafdheid en\ndomheid vinden, die wij algemeen in dit werelddeel verwachten. Maar\nanders, wat zijn hunne gebouwen bij de paleizen en vorstelijke\ngestichten van Europa? Wat is hun handel bij dien van Engeland, Holland,\nFrankrijk en Spanje? Wat zijn hunne steden bij de onze, ten aanzien van\nrijkdom, sterkte, vrolijk voorkomen, rijke meubelen en verscheidenheid?\nWat zijn hunne havens, waarin eenige jonken en sloepen liggen, bij onze\nzeevaart? Londen alleen drijft meer handel dan geheel het Chinesche\nrijk. Een Engelsch, Hollandsch of Fransch oorlogschip van 80 stukken zou\nheel de Chinesche zeemagt vernielen. Maar hun rijkdom, handel, krachtige\nregering en sterk leger wekt onze verbazing, omdat wij gewoon zijn hen\nals onbeschaafde Heidenen, weinig beter dan wilden te beschouwen, en dus\nniets van dien aard bij hen verwachten. Uit dit oogpunt heeft men al\nhunne grootheid en magt beschouwd. Met hun leger is het even als met\nhunne zeemagt gesteld; al hunne strijdkrachten, al bragten zij ook twee\nmillioen op de been, zou niets uitrigten dan het land vernielen en\nuithongeren. Als zij eene sterke vesting of een goed gedisciplineerd\nleger moesten bevechten, zou een gelid zware ruiterij al de Chinesche\nruiterij over hoop werpen; een milloen van hun voetvolk zou geen stand\nhouden tegen een troep van ons voetvolk, als dit niet omsingeld kon\nworden, al waren zij een tegen twintig. Ik snoef niet als ik zeg, dat\ndertigduizend man voetvolk en tienduizend ruiters al de legers van China\nzouden verslaan. Even ver gaan wij hen in vestingbouwkunde te boven;\ngeen vesting in China zou het eene maand tegen een Europeesch leger\nuithouden, en al de magt van China zou Duinkerken niet kunnen innemen,\nin geen tien jaren zelfs, ten ware door het uit te hongeren. Zij hebben\nzeker geweren, maar het zijn lompe, slecht gemaakte stukken, en hun\nkruid draagt niet ver. Hunne soldaten zijn zonder tucht, ongeoefend,\neven onbekwaam tot aanval als tot verdediging. Ik verwonderde mij\nderhalve niet weinig, toen ik te huis gekomen zoo veel fraais hoorde van\nde magt, luister en rijkdom der Chinezen, daar ik wist dat het een\nverachtelijke troep slaven was, onder eene regering alleen in staat zulk\neen volk te regeren. Ware China niet zoo ver van Rusland, en ware dit\nland zelf niet nog zoo onbeschaafd, dan kon de Czaar van Rusland hen\nallen met gemak in een veldtogt uit hun land drijven en dit veroveren.\nZoo Czaar Peter I dezen kant uit oorlog gevoerd had, in plaats van zich\nmet de krijgshafte Zweden in te laten, zou hij thans Keizer van China\nkunnen zijn, in stede van door den Koning van Zweden te Nerva geslagen\nte zijn met eene zes maal mindere magt. Even als hunne kracht en\ngrootheid zoo is ook hun handel, zeevaart en landbouw zeer gebrekkig,\nbij die van Europa vergeleken; even zoo is het met hunne\nwetenschappelijke kennis; zij bezitten aard- en hemelglobes en weten\niets van de wiskunde, maar hoe onwetend vindt men al hunne geleerden bij\nnader onderzoek. Van de beweging der hemelligchamen weten zij niets, en\nzij zijn zoo dom, dat zij bij eene zonsverduistering zich verbeelden,\ndat eene groote draak met de zon vecht, en daarom slaat iedereen op\ntrommen en ketels om het monster te verjagen, even als wij doen om een\nbijenzwerm bijeen te houden.\nDeze uitweiding is de eenigste van dien aard, die ik in het verhaal van\nal mijne reizen gedaan heb, en zij zal de laatste zijn. Het ligt niet in\nmijn bestek meer beschrijvingen van landen en volken te geven, maar\nalleen een verslag te geven van mijne eigene lotgevallen, gedurende een\nzoo wisselvallig en onrustig leven als men zelden zien zal. Ik zal dus\nniets zeggen van de vele volkeren, belangrijke plaatsen en eenzame\nlandstreken, die ik nog moet doortrekken, anders dan voor zoo verre het\ntot regt verstand van mijn verhaal vereischt wordt. Ik was thans, naar\nmijne beste schatting in het hart van China, ongeveer 30\u00b0 noordwaarts\nvan de linie, want wij waren naar Nanking teruggekeerd. Ik had wel lust\nom Peking te zien, daar ik zoo veel van gehoord had, en vader Simon\nspoorde er mij alle dagen toe aan. Eindelijk was de andere zendeling,\ndie met hem mede moest gaan, van Macao aangekomen, en het werd tijd, dat\nwij besloten al of niet te gaan. Ik liet het geheel aan mijn compagnon\nover, die eindelijk besliste, dat wij gaan zouden, en wij maakten ons\ndus daartoe gereed. Wij ontvingen verlof om in het gevolg van een\nmandarijn te reizen, een soort van Onderkoning of Gouverneur van eene\nprovincie, die eene groote staatsie houdt, en met groot gevolg reist.\nHet volk bewijst hun veel eer, schoon zij het dikwijls vrij wat\nverarmen, want al de gewesten, die zij doortrekken, zijn verpligt hun\nlevensmiddelen voor hen en hun gevolg te verschaffen. Wat ons betrof,\nals tot het gevolg van den mandarijn behoorende, ontvingen wij\nlevensmiddelen genoeg, zoo voor ons als onze paarden; maar wij waren\nverpligt alles naar den marktprijs van het gewest te betalen aan des\nmandarijns hofmeester of opzigter, die dit van ons afeischte; zoodat,\nschoon het reizen in zijn gevolg voor ons zeer aangenaam was, het echter\nniet alleen eene gunst van hem, maar ook zeer voordeelig voor hem was,\naangezien er nog dertig lieden even als wij in zijn gevolg of onder\nzijne bescherming reisden. Dit was zeer voordeelig voor hem, want het\ngewest gaf hem allen leeftogt om niet, en hij nam ons er ons geld voor\naf.\nWij deden in vijfentwintig dagen de reis naar Peking, door een zeer\nbevolkt, maar slecht bebouwd land; de akkerbouw en levenswijze waren er\neven ellendig, hoe breed men ook van de nijverheid van dit volk opgeeft;\nik zeg ellendig als wij hunne levenswijze bij de onze vergelijken of zoo\nmoesten leven, maar voor hen, die niet beter weten, is zij dit niet. De\nhoogmoed van dit volk is geweldig, en wordt alleen door hunne armoede\novertroffen, hetgeen hun leven nog ellendiger maakt. De naakte wilden in\nAmerika leven, dunkt mij, gelukkiger, want schoon deze niets hebben,\nbegeeren zij ook niets, terwijl de Chinezen trotsch en onbeschoft en\nvoor het meerendeel smerige bedelaars zijn. Hunne opgeblazenheid is\nongeloofelijk en blijkt hoofdzakelijk in hunne kleeding en gebouwen en\nin het houden van eene menigte slaven of bedienden, en, wat nog het\nbespottelijkste is, dat zij alles in de wereld verachten behalve\nzichzelven. Ik reisde naderhand met veel meer genoegen door de\nwildernissen en woestijnen van Tartarij\u00eb dan hier; schoon de wegen zeer\ngoed bestraat en onderhouden zijn, en zeer gemakkelijk voor reizigers;\nmaar niets hinderde mij meer dan het zien van zulk een opgeblazen\ntrotschheid, te midden van de grootste armoede en domheid. Mijn vriend,\nvader Simon, en ik lachten zeer dikwijls om de armoede en trotschheid\nvan dit volk. Een blijk hiervan zagen wij bij een landedelman, gelijk\nvader Simon hem noemde, ongeveer tien mijlen van Nanking, met welke wij\neen paar mijlen gereden hadden. Hij was een volmaakte Don Quichot, een\nzamenstel van armoede en grootschheid.\nZijn rok was zeer goed geweest voor een hansworst, want hij was vol\nlappen en gaten. Zijn onderkleed van zijde was zoo smerig, dat Zijn\nHoog-Edele een allergrootste smeerpoets moest zijn. Zijn paard was een\nmanke, magere knol, zoo als men in Engeland voor dertig schellingen kan\nkoopen, en twee slaven volgden hem te voet om het beest voort te\ndrijven. Hij had een zweep in de hand, waarmede hij het even hard van\nvoren sloeg als zijne slaven van achteren, en zoo reed hij met ons,\ngevolgd door tien of twaalf slaven. Wij vernamen, dat hij van de stad\nnaar zijn landverblijf, eene halve mijl verder op, ging. Wij reden\nlangzaam en onze edelman reed ons vooruit, en daar wij een uur in een\ndorp gebleven waren om te ontbijten, zagen wij hem, toen wij zijn\nlandhuis voorbijkwamen, op een pleintje voor de deur aan den maaltijd\nzitten; het was een soort van tuin, en wij zagen hem ligtelijk, gelijk\nmen ons ook zeide, dat hoe meer wij naar hem zagen, hoe aangenamer het\nhem zijn zou.\nHij zat onder eene soort van palmboom, die hem schaduw gaf, echter had\nhij nog een groot zonnescherm boven zich. Hij zat in een grooten\nleuningstoel, want hij was zeer zwaarlijvig, en twee slavinnen bragten\nzijn eten op, terwijl twee anderen bezig waren met eene dienst, waarop,\ngeloof ik, weinig heeren in Europa gesteld zouden zijn; de een namelijk\nstopte hem het eten in den mond, en de andere hield met de eene hand\nden schotel, en nam met de andere op hetgeen in zijn baard of op zijn\nkleed viel.\nWij lieten hem in den waan, dat wij over zijne pracht verrukt waren,\nterwijl wij die belachten, maar vader Simon wilde weten wat hij op zulk\neen feestdag at, en hij had, gelijk hij zeide, de eer gehad er van te\nmogen proeven; het was gekookte rijst met groene peper en eene specerij,\ndie naar muskus riekt en bijkans als mostaard smaakt. Dit alles was met\neen stukje schapenvleesch door elkander gekookt, en uit dezen enkelen\nschotel bestond zijn geheele maaltijd. Vier of vijf dienstboden stonden\nop een afstand, waarschijnlijk op het overschot te wachten.\nWat den mandarijn betreft, met wien wij reisden, deze werd als een vorst\nge\u00eberd; hij was altijd door zijn stoet zoo omringd en zoo bediend, dat\nik hem altijd slechts op een afstand kon zien. Ik heb echter geen enkel\npaard in zijn gevolg gezien, dat bij een onzer gewone karrenaarden halen\nkon; maar zij waren allen zoo bedekt met mantels en kleeden, dat men\nweinig anders dan den kop en de pooten van hen zien kon.\nIk was thans welgemoed; bevrijd van al mijne onrust, reisde ik thans\nzeer opgeruimd, ook had ik geenerlei wederwaardigheden, dan dat bij het\nrijden door eene beek mijn paard viel en mij burger maakte, gelijk men\nzegt; dat wil zeggen, mij er in wierp; het was niet diep, maar ik werd\ndoor en door nat. Ik maak hiervan gewag, omdat ik in mijn zakboek\nverscheidene namen van volken en plaatsen had opgeschreven, en daar ik\ndie bladen niet droogde, verrotten zij, en tot mijn spijt verloor ik zoo\nde namen van verscheidene plaatsen, die ik doorgetrokken was.\nEindelijk kwamen wij te Peking. Ik had niemand bij mij dan den\njongeling, dien mijn neef den kapitein, mij tot mijne bediening had\nachtergelaten, die even trouw als schrander was; en mijn compagnon had\nslechts een dienstbode, die aan hem verwant was, bij zich. Daar de\nPortugesche loods ook verlangde het hof te zien, deed hij de reis op\nonze kosten, en hij diende ons als tolk, want hij sprak de taal van het\nland en zeer goed Fransch, en een weinig Engelsch. Deze oude man was\nons zeer nuttig, want naauwelijks waren wij eene week te Peking of hij\nkwam lagchende bij mij en zeide: \"O, senhor Inglese, ik heb u iets te\nzeggen, dat u bijzonder verheugen zal.\"--\"Mij verheugen,\" zeide ik, \"ik\ngeloof niet, dat hier te lande mij iets bijzonder verheugen of bedroeven\nkan.\"--\"Ja, ja,\" zeide hij, \"het zal u blijde en mij bedroefd maken.\"\nDit maakte mij nieuwsgierig. \"Waarom zal het u bedroefd\nmaken?\"--\"Omdat,\" zeide hij, \"gij mij hier, vijfentwintig dagreizen ver,\ngebragt heb, en ik nu alleen zal moeten terugkeeren, zonder schip,\nzonder paard, zonder geld.\"--Kortom hij verhaalde mij, dat eene groote\nkaravaan van Russische en Poolsche kooplieden in de stad was, die over\nvier of vijf weken te land naar Rusland zouden gaan, en hij achtte het\nals zeker, dat ik deze gelegenheid te baat zou nemen en hem alleen laten\nterugkeeren. Ik moet bekennen, dat dit nieuws mij onbeschrijfelijk\nverraste en mij eene poos sprakeloos maakte, maar eindelijk zeide ik:\n\"Zijt gij daar zeker van? Hoe weet gij dat?\"--\"Ik heb dezen morgen een\nArmeni\u00ebr ontmoet,\" hernam hij, \"die onlangs van Astracan gekomen is, en\nnaar Nanking wilde, waar ik hem vroeger heb leeren kennen; maar deze\nheeft thans zich bedacht en besloten met de karavaan naar Moscou, en zoo\nden Wolga af naar Astracan te gaan.\"--\"Kom senhor,\" zeide ik, \"wees niet\nongerust over uwe terugreis; als ik langs dezen weg naar Engeland kan\nterug komen, behoeft gij niet weder naar Macao te gaan als gij niet\nwilt.\" Ik raadpleegde daarop mijn compagnon en vroeg hem wat hij er van\ndacht. Hij zeide, dat hij juist zoo handelen zou als ik, want hij had\nzijne zaken in Bengalen zoo goed geschikt, en in zulke vertrouwde handen\nachtergelaten, dat als wij de winst van onze reis in ruwe en gewerkte\nChinesche zijde konden steken, hij gaarne naar Engeland wilde gaan, en\nvandaar met een compagniesschip naar Bengalen terugkeeren.\nNa dit bepaald te hebben, besloten wij, dat als onze Portugesche loods\nwilde mede gaan, wij de reiskosten voor hem tot Moscou of Engeland\nzouden dragen; en dit was het minste wat wij voor hem konden doen voor\nde vele diensten, die hij ons bewezen had. Niet alleen was hij onze\nloods op zee, maar aan den wal onze makelaar geweest, en met ons den\nJapanschen koopman te brengen, had hij ons honderden guinjes in den zak\ngebragt. Wij besloten dus hem bovendien eenige staafjes goud te geven,\nter waarde ongeveer van 175 Pond St. en de reiskosten voor hem en zijn\npaard, uitgezonderd alleen den aankoop van een pakpaard voor zijne\ngoederen, te dragen. Wij riepen hem daarop om hem dit te verhalen. Ik\nzeide, dat hij gevreesd had dat wij hem alleen zouden laten terugkeeren,\nmaar dat wij besloten hadden hem in het geheel niet te laten\nterugkeeren; dat wij besloten hadden naar Europa met de karavaan terug\nte keeren, en dat hij zou mede gaan, en nu wenschten wij te weten hoe\nhij er over dacht. Hij schudde het hoofd, zeide dat het eene lange reis\nwas, en dat hij geen geld had om die te doen, noch om van te leven als\nhij daar kwam. Wij zeiden dat dit wel zoo was, maar dat wij daarom\nbesloten hadden iets voor hem te doen, ten bewijze hoezeer wij zijne\ngedane diensten erkenden, en hoe veel wij van hem hielden. Ik zeide hem\nvervolgens wat wij hem wilden geven, en dat hij even als wij kon\nbesteden, en dat wij hem en zijne goederen, buiten onvoorziene\ntoevallen, in Rusland of Engeland zoude brengen, op onze kosten, behalve\nalleen het vervoeren van zijn eigen goed.\nHij was hierover verrukt, en zeide, dat hij de geheele wereld met ons\nwilde doortrekken, en derhalve maakten wij alles gereed tot onze reis.\nEven als wij hadden de andere kooplieden echter veel te doen, zoodat in\nplaats van vijf weken het ruim vier maanden duurde, alvorens alles\ngereed was.\nHet was in het begin van Februarij, toen wij Peking verlieten. Mijn\ncompagnon was met den ouden loods naar de haven, die wij eerst waren\nbinnengeloopen, teruggekeerd, om eenige goederen, die daar gebleven\nwaren, te verkoopen, en ik was met een Chineschen koopman, dien ik te\nNanking ontmoet had, en die thans naar Peking was gekomen, naar Nanking\ngegaan, waar ik negentig stukken zware zijde, en nog tweehonderd stukken\nzeer fraaije zijde, waaronder met goud doorwerkt, kocht, en die tegen\ndat mijn compagnon terug kwam naar Peking terug bragt. Bovendien kochten\nwij eene groote menigte ruwe zijde en eenige andere goederen. Onze\nlading bedroeg alleen hieraan de waarde van drieduizend vijfhonderd Pond\nSt., waarmede wij, met thee en eenige fijne calicots en drie\nkameelladingen nootmuskaten en nagelen, in het geheel achttien kameelen\nvoor onze rekening belaadden, behalve die waarop wij reden, en twee of\ndrie handpaarden en twee paarden met levensmiddelen, waardoor wij in het\ngeheel zesentwintig kameelen en paarden hadden.\nDe karavaan was zeer groot en bestond naar ik meen uit ongeveer drie- of\nvierhonderd paarden en kameelen en honderdtwintig man, allen goed\ngewapend en uitgerust, want even als de karavanen in het Oosten dikwijls\ndoor Arabieren worden aangevallen, zoo worden deze door Tartaren, schoon\ndeze niet zoo gevaarlijk zijn als de Arabieren, noch zoo barbaarsch na\nde overwinning. De karavaan bestond uit personen van verschillende\nnati\u00ebn, voornamelijk Russen, want er waren meer dan zestig kooplieden\nuit Moscou, waarvan eenige echter Lijflanders waren, en tot ons genoegen\nwaren er vijf Schotten, die lieden van veel ervaring en moed schenen te\nzijn.\nNa een dag reizens riepen de gidsen, die vijf in getal waren, al de\npassagiers, behalve de dienstboden, tot een grooten raad bijeen, zoo als\nzij het noemden. Iedereen gaf daarbij eenig geld tot eene algemeene kas,\nom onder weg voeder te koopen, de gidsen te betalen, paarden te huren en\ndergelijke. En wijders werd hier de orde van de reis geregeld, namelijk\ner werden officieren benoemd, om ingeval van een aanval het bevel te\nvoeren, en ieder had op zijne beurt het bevel. Dit was ook een maatregel\ndie zeer noodig was, gelijk in het vervolg blijken zal.\nWij vonden hier het land overal zeer bevolkt, en vol pottebakkers en\nlieden, die de aarde voor het porselein mengden; en eens kwam onze\nPortugesche loods, die altijd op eene grap uit was, met een lagchend\ngezigt bij mij, en zeide, dat hij mij de grootste merkwaardigheid des\nlands zou laten zien, en dat ik na al het kwaad, dat ik al van China\ngezegd had, zou moeten bekennen, dat ik iets gezien had, welks wederga\nin de wereld niet te vinden was. Ik was zeer nieuwsgierig wat het was,\nen eindelijk zeide hij het was een huis van porselein.--\"Zoo,\" zeide ik,\n\"dat is mogelijk. Hoe groot is het? Kunnen wij het in een kist op een\nkameel pakken? Dan wil ik het koopen.\"--\"Op een kameel laden!\" riep de\noude man, de handen ineenslaande, \"er leeft een huisgezin van dertig\nzielen in.\"\nIk werd toen nog veel nieuwsgieriger, maar toen ik er bij kwam, was het\nniets dan een gewoon houten huis of wel van latten en leem gebouwd, doch\nmet echt porselein gepleisterd, of liever met de klei waarvan het\nporselein gemaakt wordt. De buitenzijde, waarop de zon brandde, was\nverglaasd en zag er zeer goed en helder wit uit en was met blaauwe\nfiguren beschilderd, gelijk men op het groote porselein ziet. Van binnen\nwaren geen beschotten van hout, maar de muren waren met geschilderde\nplatte tegels belegd, gelijk onze vierkante muurtegels, allen van het\nfijnst porselein en zeer fraai beschilderd, met allerlei kleuren, met\ngoud doormengd; verscheidene steentjes vormden slechts eene figuur, maar\nzij waren zoo kunstig met cement van dezelfde klei vereenigd, dat men de\nvoegen moeijelijk ontdekken kon. In de kamers was de vloer even zoo, en\nvolmaakt effen en hard, maar niet verglaasd en geschilderd, behalve in\neenige kamertjes of kabinetjes, die geheel in het rond op gelijke wijze\ngepleisterd waren, en ook het dak was met soortgelijke, maar\ndonkerzwarte tegels belegd.\nDit mogt inderdaad een porseleinen pakhuis heeten, en zoo ik niet verder\nhad moeten trekken, zou ik eenige dagen met de bezigtiging hebben kunnen\nbesteden. Men zeide mij dat er in den tuin fonteinen en vijvers waren,\nwaarvan de bodem en de zijden even zoo geplaatst waren, terwijl de paden\nbezet waren met beelden van dezelfde porseleinaarde gevormd en in hun\ngeheel gebakken. Daar dit een der merkwaardigheden van hun land is,\nmogen zij er zeker wel op roemen, maar zij overdrijven geweldig, want\nzij verhaalden mij zulke ongelooflijke dingen van hetgeen zij van\nporselein konden maken, dat ik zeker weet, dat niet waar kon zijn. Een\nonder anderen, vertelde mij van een werkman die een schip gemaakt had,\nmet al zijn want, masten en zeilen, groot genoeg om vijftig man te\nvoeren. Zoo hij mij niet verhaald had, dat hij het te water had gebragt\nen er eene reis mede naar Japan gedaan had, had ik er iets van kunnen\ngelooven, maar nu wist ik, dat de geheele zaak eenvoudig een leugen was.\nIk lachte daarom en zeide er niets van.\nHet bezien van dit huis had mij twee uren achter de karavaan doen\nblijven, waarvoor de aanvoerder mij voor drie schellingen ongeveer\nbeboette, en mij zeide, dat zoo ik drie dagreizens buiten den muur\ngeweest was, even als thans drie dagreizens er binnen, hij mij vier\nmalen zoo hoog had moeten beboeten, en op den volgenden raadsdag om\nverschooning doen vragen. Ik beloofde in het vervolg beter te zullen\noppassen, en vond naderhand dat de bevelen, om allen bijeen te blijven,\nhoogst noodzakelijk waren.\nTwee dagen later passeerden wij den grooten muur van China, die tot eene\nversterking tegen de Tartaren strekt. Het is een ontzettend werkstuk,\ndat eindeloos ver over heuvelen en bergen loopt, tot waar de rotsen\nonbeklimbaar en de afgronden niet over te trekken zijn. Men zeide mij,\ndat hij bijkans duizend Engelsche mijlen lang is, maar dat de\nuitgestrektheid van het landschap, dat hij omgeeft, in eene regte lijn\nslechts vijfhonderd is; hij is vier vademen hoog en op vele plaatsen\neven zoo dik.\nEen uur of daaromstreeks besteedde ik om dien zoo ver ik kon te bezien,\nzonder de orders te overtreden, want zoo lang had de karavaan werk om\nhem door te trekken; en onze gids, die dit wereldwonder reeds dikwijls\ngeroemd had, verlangde zeer te vernemen hoe ik er over dacht. Ik zeide,\ndat het een uitmuntend werkstuk was om de Tartaren af te weren, hetgeen\nhij anders opvatte dan ik het meende, en het voor eene loftuiting hield,\nmaar de oude loods lachte en zeide: \"O, senhor Inglese, gij spreekt\nverbloemd.\"--\"Hoe zoo?\" zeide ik. \"Wel,\" hernam hij, \"wat gij zegt is aan\nde eene zijde wit, aan den anderen kant zwart; gij zegt dat hij goed is\nom Tartaren af te weren, daarmede wilt gij zeggen, dat hij alleen\nTartaren kan buiten houden. Ik begrijp u wel, senhor, maar senhor\nChinees begrijpt u op zijne wijze.\"\n\"Wel,\" zeide ik, \"denkt gij dat deze muur zou bestand zijn tegen een\nleger van onze landslieden met een goed deel geschut, of onze ingenieurs\nmet een paar kompagni\u00ebn mineurs? Zouden zij er niet in tien dagen een\nbres in maken, daar een geheel leger in slagorde zou kunnen doortrekken,\nof hem in de lucht laten springen, dat er geen spoor van\noverblijft?\"--\"Ja, ja,\" zeide hij, \"dat weet ik.\" De Chinees wilde gaarne\nweten wat ik er van gezegd had, en ik gaf hem eenige dagen later\nverlof het te vertellen, want wij waren toen bijkans uit hun land, en\nhij zou ons kort daarop verlaten; maar toen hij vernomen had wat ik\ngezegd had, sprak hij verder geen woord meer, en wij hoorden niets meer\nvan zijn gezwets over de magt en de grootheid van China, zoolang hij bij\nons was.\nNa dit geweldige niets, dezen vermaarden muur, doorgetrokken te zijn,\nvonden wij het land schaars bevolkt, en het volk meer in versterkte\ndorpen en steden, daar zij hier meer blootstonden voor de strooptogten\nen invallen der Tartaren, die altijd in groot aantal komen, en dan door\nde bewoners van een open land niet kunnen afgeslagen worden. Ik zag hier\nhoe noodzakelijk het was, ons bijeen te houden, want verscheidene hoopen\nTartaren kwamen om ons heen zwerven; maar toen ik hen meer van nabij\nzag, kon ik niet begrijpen, hoe het Chinesche rijk door zulk een hoop\nonbeschaafd volk had kunnen verwonnen worden, want het is een hoop\nwilden, die noch van krijgstucht, noch van krijgskunde iets weten.\nHunne paarden zijn schraal, zwak, verhongerd en nergens goed voor; dit\nondervonden wij den eersten dag, dat wij hen zagen, hetwelk was, nadat\nwij in het woestere deel des lands waren gekomen. Onze aanvoerder van\ndien dag gaf zestien onzer verlof op de jagt te gaan, gelijk zij het\nnoemden, namelijk op de schapenjagt! Het mogt echter wel zoo heeten,\nwant het waren de wildste en vlugste schapen, die ik ooit zag, doch zij\nloopen niet lang, en gij zijt zeker van hen, als gij de jagt begint,\nwant zij zwerven bij kudden van dertig of veertig stuks, en blijven\naltijd bijeen als zij vlugten.\nTerwijl wij op dit wild joegen, ontmoetten wij een troep van ongeveer\nveertig Tartaren, die ook op schapen of eene andere prooi uitgingen, dit\nweet ik niet. Zoodra zij ons zagen, blies een hunner op eene soort van\nhoorn, en bragt een zeer wanluidend geluid voort, als ik nimmer hoorde,\nen ook nimmer verlang weder te hooren. Wij begrepen, dat dit was, om\nhunne makkers bijeen te roepen, en zoo was het ook, want binnen een half\nkwartieruurs zagen wij nog een veertig- of vijftigtal op een kwartieruur\nafstands opdagen, doch voor dien tijd was de zaak reeds tusschen ons\nafgedaan.\nEen van de Schotsche kooplieden uit Moscou was bij ons, en zoodra wij\nden hoorn hoorden, zeide hij, dat wij niets beter konden doen, dan hen\ndadelijk zonder eenig dralen aan te vallen, en ons in gelid plaatsende,\nvroeg hij of wij gereed waren. Wij antwoordden ja, en reden daarop op\nhen aan. Zij stonden in eenen verwarden hoop ons aan te gapen, zonder\neenigen schijn van orde, maar zoodra zij ons zagen naderen, schoten zij\nhunne pijlen op ons af, waarvan geen ons echter trof. Het scheen, dat\nzij wel goed gemikt hadden, maar dat de afstand te ver was, want hunne\npijlen vielen zoo digt voor ons neder, dat zoo wij tien roeden verder\ngeweest waren, zeker verscheidene onzer gedood of gewond zouden zijn\ngeweest.\nWij hielden dadelijk stil, en schoon de afstand nog groot was, gaven wij\nvuur en zonden hun voor hunne houten pijlen looden kogels toe, waarna\nwij in vollen galop op hen toe reden, om hen met de sabel in de vuist\naan te tasten, gelijk onze moedige Schot ons gelast had. Hij was een\nkoopman, maar hij gedroeg zich bij deze gelegenheid zoo dapper en tevens\nmet zulk eenen bedaarden moed, dat ik nimmer iemand zag, die beter\ngeschikt was, om een gevecht te besturen. Zoodra wij vlak bij hen waren,\nvuurden wij onze pistolen af, en trokken toen de sabel, maar zij sloegen\nin de grootste wanorde op de vlugt. Slechts drie hunner hielden aan onze\nregterzijde een oogenblik stand, en deden de anderen teekens dat zij\nzouden terugkeeren. Onze dappere aanvoerder galoppeerde naar hen toe,\nzonder iemand te gelasten hem te volgen, en sloeg met zijn geweer een\nhunner van het paard af en doodde den tweede met een pistoolschot, de\nderde nam de vlugt, en hiermede eindigde ons gevecht. Wij hadden er\nechter dit ongeval bij, dat daardoor onze jagt op niets uitliep. Niemand\nonzer was gedood of gewond, maar van de Tartaren waren er vier of vijf\ngesneuveld, en ik weet niet hoeveel gewond. De andere troep was zoo\nverschrikt, van ons vuur, dat zij de vlugt koos en ons ongemoeid liet.\nWij waren thans nog op Chineesch grondgebied; en derhalve waren de\nTartaren niet zoo vermetel als naderhand, maar vijf dagen later\nbereikten wij eene groote woestijn, welker doortrekking ons drie\nnachten en drie dagen bezig hield, en wij waren verpligt het drinkwater\nin groote lederen zakken mede te nemen en den nacht in het open veld\ndoor te brengen, even als ik van de woestijn van Arabi\u00eb gehoord heb. Ik\nvroeg mijne gidsen, wien dit land behoorde. Zij antwoordden, dat dit\neene soort van grensscheiding was, die men wel Niemandsland mogt noemen;\ndat het een deel was van Groot-Tartarije, maar echter tot China gerekend\nwerd, waar men echter niet zorgde, om het voor invallen van roovers te\nbeschermen, en het derhalve de gevaarlijkste weg van den geheelen togt\nwas, schoon wij nog grootere woestijnen moesten doortrekken.\nBij het doortrekken dezer woestijn, die mij zeer akelig toescheen, zagen\nwij twee of driemalen kleine troepen Tartaren, maar zij schenen niets\nkwaads tegen ons in den zin te hebben, en daar zij ons niets te zeggen\nschenen te hebben, zoo hadden wij evenmin er lust toe, en lieten hen\nstil gaan. Eens echter kwam eene troep ons zoo nabij, dat zij stand\nhielden, en ons aanstaarden; of het was om te beraadslagen of zij ons al\nof niet wilden aanvallen weet ik niet; maar toen wij hen voorbij waren,\nvormden wij eene achterhoede van veertig man, die staan bleef en de\nkaravaan een half uur vooruit liet trekken. Na eene poos trokken zij af,\nmaar zonden ons tot afscheid vijf pijlen toe, waarvan een een paard\nzoodanig kwetste, dat wij het den volgenden dag op weg moesten\nachterlaten; dien dag zagen wij niets meer van hen.\nWij hadden bijkans eene maand gereisd, terwijl de wegen, die zoo goed\nniet meer waren als vroeger, schoon nog op het gebied van den Chineschen\nkeizer, meerendeels door dorpen liepen, die versterkt waren, uithoofde\nvan de invallen der Tartaren. Toen wij aan een dezer dorpen kwamen\n(ongeveer twee en een halve dagreis van de stad Naum) verlangde ik een\nkameel te koopen, die men op den weg overal vindt, en paarden ook, zoo\nals zij dan zijn, omdat daaraan dikwijls behoefte is, dewijl zoovele\nkaravanen hier langs komen. De persoon, dien ik over het koopen van een\nkameel sprak, wilde er een voor mij gaan halen, maar ik had de dwaze\ndienstvaardigheid van mede te gaan. De plaats waar zij waren, was\nongeveer een half uur buiten het dorp, waar zij, naar het scheen, de\nkameelen en paarden onder eene wacht lieten weiden.\nIk ging te voet mede met mijnen ouden loods en een Chinees, daar ik zeer\nnaar eenige verscheidenheid verlangde. Aan de plaats komende, zagen wij,\ndat dit eene lage, moerassige plek was, door eenen muur van los\nopgestapelde steenen omringd, met eene kleine wacht van Chinesche\nsoldaten aan den ingang. Na een kameel uitgezocht en den koop gesloten\nte hebben, ging ik heen, en de Chinees, die bij mij was, leidde de\nkameel, toen plotseling vijf Tartaren kwamen aanrijden; twee hunner\ngrepen den man en ontrukten hem den kameel, terwijl de drie anderen naar\nmij en mijnen ouden loods toetraden, ziende dat wij genoegzaam\nongewapend waren, want ik had niets bij mij dan mijne sabel, waarmede ik\nmij kwalijk tegen drie ruiters verdedigen kon. De eerste bleef staan,\ntoen hij mij mijne sabel zag trekken (want het zijn groote lafaards),\nmaar een tweede kwam mij op zijde en gaf mij eenen slag op het hoofd,\ndien ik eerst naderhand voelde, want toen ik weder bijkwam, wist ik niet\nhoe ik het had noch waar ik was, want ik was op den grond gevallen, maar\nmijn brave oude loods had door eene bestiering der Voorzienigheid eene\npistool in zijnen zak, waarvan ik noch de Tartaren iets wisten, anders\nzouden zij ons zeker niet aangevallen hebben. Maar lafaards zijn altijd\nhet moedigst als er geen gevaar is.\nToen de oude man mij zag nedervallen, stapte hij moedig op den man aan,\ndie mij nedergeveld had, en hem met de eene hand bij den arm grijpende\nen een weinig naar zich toehalende, schoot hij hem door het hoofd, dat\nhij dood nederviel, daarop stapte hij naar den eersten toe, die ons\nstaande gehouden had, en voor deze hem naderen kon (want het geschiedde\nalles in een oogenblik) deed hij eene houw naar hem met de sabel, die\nhij altijd droeg. Hij miste hem echter, maar trof zijn paard aan het\nhoofd, sloeg het een oor af en eene groote lap vel van den kop. Het arme\ndier, dol van pijn, werd onhandelbaar, schoon de ruiter vast genoeg in\nden zadel zat, ging het met hem door, en voerde hem buiten bereik van\nden loods, en toen het een eind ver was, steigerde het, wierp zijn\nberijder af en viel op hem.\nMiddelerwijl kwam de arme Chinees aan, die zijn kameel verloren had,\ndoch hij was ongewapend. Toen hij den Tartaar zag vallen en zijn paard\nop hem, liep hij naar dezen toe en ontnam hem een lomp wapen, hetwelk\nwel naar eene bijl geleek, dat deze op zijde had, en sloeg er hem de\nhersenen mede in. De oude loods had echter nog met den derden Tartaar te\ndoen, en ziende dat deze niet, gelijk hij gehoopt had, de vlugt koos,\nnoch gelijk hij vreesde op hem afkwam, maar stil bleef staan, bleef de\noude man ook staan en begon zijne pistool weder te laden. Zoodra de\nTartaar echter de pistool zag, koos hij het hazenpad en liet den loods\nmeester van het slagveld.\nThans begon ik een weinig bij te komen, maar eerst dacht ik, dat ik uit\neenen gerusten slaap ontwaakt was, en wist niet waar ik was, noch hoe ik\nop den grond kwam; eenige oogenblikken daarna, weder tot bewustheid\ngekomen, gevoelde ik pijn, schoon ik niet wist waar, ik bragt mijne hand\naan mijn hoofd, en haalde die bebloed terug, toen gevoelde ik pijn aan\nmijn hoofd en weldra keerde ook de herinnering terug van hetgeen er\ngebeurd was. Ik sprong dadelijk op de been en greep naar mijne sabel,\nmaar er was geen vijand meer te zien. Ik zag een Tartaar dood op den\ngrond liggen, en zijn paard bedaard naast hem staan, en wat verderop zag\nik mijn bondgenoot en redder, die gaan zien was wat de Chinees deed, met\nzijne sabel in de hand terugkeeren. Toen de oude man mij op de been zag,\nkwam hij naar mij toeloopen, en omhelsde mij met groote vreugde, daar\nhij eerst gevreesd had, dat ik dood was. Mij bebloed ziende, wilde hij\nnaar mijne wond zien, maar deze beteekende niet veel, en bestond slechts\nuit een gat in den kop, gelijk men zegt. Ook had ik naderhand geen\nongemak van den slag, dan de wond, en die was binnen twee of drie dagen\nbijkans genezen.\nDeze overwinning bragt ons echter weinig voordeel aan; wij verloren een\nkameel en wij wonnen een paard, doch het verdient opmerking, dat toen\nwij in het dorp terugkwamen, de man voor den kameel wilde betaald\nworden. Ik weigerde dit, en de zaak werd voor den Chineschen regter van\ndie plaats gebragt, of gelijk wij zouden zeggen voor den vrederegter. Om\nhem regt te doen, hij handelde zeer voorzigtig en onpartijdig, en na\nbeide partijen gehoord te hebben, vroeg hij ernstig aan den Chinees, die\nmet mij medegegaan was, om den kameel te koopen, wiens knecht hij was.\n\"Ik ben geen knecht,\" zeide deze, \"maar ik ging met den vreemdeling\nmede.\"--\"Op wiens verzoek!\" vraagde de regter.--\"Op des vreemdelings\nverzoek,\" was het antwoord.--\"Welnu,\" zeide de regter, \"dan waart gij in\ndienst van den vreemdeling te dier tijd, en daar de kameel aan iemand in\nzijne dienst is ter hand gesteld, is zij aan hem ter hand gesteld, en\nhij moet hem betalen.\"\nIk beken, dat dit zoo duidelijk was, dat ik er niets tegen kon\ninbrengen; maar bewonderde de juistheid zijner gevolgtrekking en zijne\njuiste uiteenzetting der zaak, en betaalde dus gewillig den kameel en\nzond om eenen anderen, maar gij kunt er op aan, dat ik dien niet zelf\nging halen. Ik had daarvan mijn bekomst.\nDe stad Naum is eene grensplaats van het Chinesche rijk, zij noemen het\neene vesting, en het is er ook eene voor hun doen, want dat durf ik\nverzekeren, dat al de Tartaren van Groot-Tartarije, die geloof ik eenige\nmillioenen bedragen, de muren met hunne bogen en pijlen niet plat kunnen\nschieten, maar om het sterk te noemen, als het met geschut aangevallen\nwerd, daar zou iedereen om lagchen, die er verstand van had. Wij waren\nnog twee dagreizen van deze stad, toen wij boden ontmoetten, die van\nalle kanten uitgezonden waren, om alle reizigers en karavanen te\nverwittigen, dat zij halt moesten houden tot hun eene wacht was\ntoegezonden, want dat een bijzonder groote troep Tartaren, wel\ntienduizend, in de omstreek gezien was, ongeveer dertig (Eng.) mijlen\nvan de stad.\nDat was kwaad nieuws voor reizigers; echter was het van den gouverneur\nzeer zorgvuldig gehandeld, en wij vernamen met blijdschap, dat wij een\nescorte zouden erlangen. Twee dagen later werden ons ook tweehonderd\nsoldaten, uit een Chineesch garnizoen, links van ons, en nog driehonderd\nuit de stad Naum toegezonden, en met deze trokken wij moedig voort. De\ndriehonderd soldaten van Naum trokken vooruit, de tweehonderd achteraan,\nen ons volk aan weerszijden van de kameelen, met onze bagaadje en de\ngeheele karavaan in het midden. Op deze wijze en goed ten strijde\ntoegerust, dachten wij het wel met tienduizend Mongoolsche Tartaren te\nkunnen opnemen, als zij verschenen waren, maar toen zij den volgenden\ndag kwamen opdagen, zag het er geheel anders uit.\nVroeg in den morgen, toen wij Van een klein, welgelegen dorp, Changu\ngeheeten, opbraken, moesten wij eene rivier overtrekken, waar wij\nmoesten overvaren, en zoo de Tartaren op kondschap uitgegaan waren,\nhadden zij ons hier moeten overvallen, toen de karavaan overgetrokken en\nde achterhoede nog aan de andere zijde was, maar zij lieten zich daar\nniet zien. Eerst drie uren later, toen wij op eene woeste vlakte van\nongeveer vijftien of zestien mijlen gekomen waren, zagen wij aan eene\nopstijgende stofwolk, dat de vijand nabij was, en dit was ook zoo, want\nzij kwamen naar ons toerijden.\nDe Chinezen, onze voorhoede, die den vorigen dag zoo gesnoefd hadden,\nbegonnen te deinzen, en de soldaten zagen dikwijls om, hetgeen bij een\nsoldaat een zeker teeken is, dat hij op het punt staat van te vlugten.\nMijn oude loods dacht er ook zoo over, want bij mij komende zeide hij:\n\"Senhor Inglese! deze lieden moeten aangemoedigd worden of het is met\nons gedaan, want als de Tartaren nader komen, zullen zij geen stand\nhouden.\"--\"Ik geloof het ook,\" zeide ik, \"maar wat zullen wij\ndoen?\"--\"Wel,\" zeide hij, \"laat vijftig man van ons volk vooruittrekken,\nen hen de beide vleugels dekken en aanmoedigen, en dan zullen zij als\ndappere kerels met dappere bondgenooten strijden, maar zonder dit zal\niedereen het hazenpad kiezen.\" Ik reed dadelijk naar onzen aanvoerder,\nwien ik dit mededeelde. Hij gaf mij volkomen gelijk en dus dekten\nvijftig onzer hunne vleugels en de overigen maakten eene reserve uit;\nzoo trokken wij voort en lieten de laatste tweehonderd man als eene\nafzonderlijke afdeeling, om de kameelen te bewaken, met afspraak, dat\nzij, als het noodig ware, ons honderd man tot versterking zouden zenden.\nIn een woord, de Tartaren kwamen in ontelbare menigte, hoe veel konden\nwij niet zeggen, maar wij geloofden op zijn minst tienduizend. Eerst\nkwam eene troep van hen ons verkennen, die dwars voorbij onze linie\nreed, en daar zij binnen het bereik van onze geweren kwamen, liet onze\naanvoerder de twee vleugels vooruitrukken, en hen met kogels van beide\nvleugels begroeten. Zij trokken af en gingen denkelijk verhalen, welke\nontvangst hen hier bereid werd. Dit scheen de anderen weinig te smaken,\nwant zij hielden stil, stonden zich eene poos te bedenken, en linksaf\nzwenkende verlieten zij ons, hetgeen ons niet onaangenaam was, daar wij\nniet zeer verlangden naar een gevecht met zulk eene overmagt.\nTwee dagen daarna kwamen wij in de stad Naum. Wij bedankten den\ngouverneur voor zijne zorgen jegens ons, en bragten ongeveer een honderd\nkroonen bijeen, die wij aan de soldaten gaven, die ons begeleid hadden,\nen wij hielden hier een dag rust. Dit is eene vesting, waarin\nnegenhonderd soldaten lagen, maar de reden hiervan is, dat vroeger de\nRussische grenzen hier digterbij waren dan thans, daar de Russen het\ndeel des lands, dat zich ongeveer 200 (Eng.) mijlen westwaarts van deze\nstad uitstrekt, hebben verlaten, als woest en nergens toe geschikt, en\nvooral omdat het zoo ver af was en moeijelijk er troepen heen te zenden,\nwant wij moesten nog tweeduizend mijlen afleggen, eer wij aan het\neigenlijke Rusland kwamen.\nHierna trokken wij over verscheidene groote rivieren en door\nverscheidene woestijnen, waarmede wij zestien dagen bezig waren, en die\nonder geen bepaald gebied behoorden. Den 12 April kwamen wij aan de\ngrenzen van het Russische gebied. Ik meen, dat de eerste stad aldaar\nArguna heette, aan de westzijde van de rivier Argun.\nMet groote vreugde zag ik mij thans in een Christelijk land, althans in\neen land, dat door Christenen geregeerd wordt. Ieder die zooveel door de\nwereld gereisd had als ik, en eenige nagedachten had, zou gewis\nbedenken, welk een zegen het is in een land te komen, waar de naam van\nGod en den Verlosser bekend is en vereerd wordt; en waar niet het volk\nden duivel aanbidt, of zich voor houten of steenen monsters nederbuigt.\nNog geene stad of dorp waren wij tot hiertoe doorgetrokken, waar het\nvolk niet zijne afgoden en tempels had, en het werk zijner eigene handen\nvereerde en aanbad. Nu echter kwamen wij op plaatsen, waar de knie\u00ebn\nvoor onzen Heer gebogen werden en de naam van den eenigen waren God\naangeroepen werd, en dit denkbeeld verheugde mij tot in het binnenste\nder ziel. Ik deelde den Schotschen koopman mijne gewaarwordingen mede en\nhem bij de hand nemende, zeide ik: \"God dank, dat wij thans weder onder\nChristenen zijn.\" Hij glimlachte en zeide: \"Verheug u niet te vroeg,\nlandsman! de lieden hier zijn een vreemd slag van Christenen, en gij\nzult in de eerste maanden van onze reis daar niet veel anders dan den\nnaam van zien.\"--\"Dat is toch altijd beter dan het heidendom en\nduivelaanbidding,\" zeide ik.--\"Ja,\" zeide hij, \"maar behalve de hier in\ngarnizoen liggende Russische soldaten en eenige bewoners der steden,\nwordt het land nog duizend (Eng.) mijlen verder door de onwetendste\nheidenen bewoond.\" En de waarheid van het gezegde bleek ons later.\nWij bevonden ons thans, naar ik geloof, op het grootste gedeelte\nvastland, dat er, naar ik meen, op den ganschen aardbol te vinden is.\nWij waren oostwaarts ten minste twaalfhonderd (Eng.) mijlen van de zee,\nwestwaarts ten minste tweeduizend van de Oostzee, en bijkans drieduizend\nvan het Engelsch kanaal verwijderd; zuidwaarts vijfduizend mijlen van de\nIndische of Perzische zee, en ongeveer achthonderd mijlen noordwaarts\nvan de Poolzee. Zelfs als men sommigen gelooven wilde, zou er\nnoordoostwaarts in het geheel geene zee zijn, voor men om de pool\nnoordwestelijk was; en dus een vastland tot in Amerika hebben, niemand\nweet waar, schoon ik wel eenige reden voor het tegendeel zou kunnen\naanvoeren.\nToen wij op het Russische gebied kwamen, lang voordat wij eene stad van\neenig belang bereikten, vonden wij niets opmerkelijks, dan alleen dat\nalle rivieren oostelijk liepen. Naar de kaarten te zien, die sommigen\nonzer bij zich hadden, was het duidelijk, dat al deze stroomen in de\ngroote rivier Jamoer of Gamoer uitliepen. Door zijnen natuurlijken loop\nmoet deze rivier in de Chinesche zee vloeijen. Het verhaal dat men doet,\ndat de mond van deze rivier opgestopt is met biezen van ontzettende\ngrootte, namelijk van drie voet dik en twintig tot dertig voet hoog,\ngeloof ik, dat onwaar is. Maar daar derzelver bevaarbaarheid van geen\nnut is, dewijl er dien kant uit geen handel is, en de Tartaren, aan wie\ndezelve behoort, alleen in vee handelen, zoo is niemand ooit, voor\nzoover ik gehoord heb, zoo nieuwsgierig geweest, van naar den mond in\nbooten op te varen, of die in schepen af te varen, maar dit is zeker,\ndat deze rivier op 60\u00b0 breedte vlak oost loopt, en eene menigte rivieren\nin zich opneemt, en zich op die breedte in eene zee ontlast, die daar\nzeker aan te treffen is.\nEenige mijlen noordwaarts van die rivier zijn verscheidene groote\nstroomen, die even vlak noordelijk loopen, als de Jamoer oost, en al\ndeze ontlasten zich in de groote rivier Tartarus, zoo genoemd naar de\nnoordelijkste stammen der Mongoolsche Tartaren, die, naar de Chinezen\nzeggen, de oudste Tartaren der wereld zijn, en welke sommige zeggen, dat\nde Gog en Magog der Heilige Schrift zijn.\nWij trokken thans met kleine dagreizen van de rivier Arguna, en waren\nden Czaar van Rusland zeer verpligt voor zijne moeite, dat hij op\nzoovele plaatsen als mogelijk dorpen en steden had aangelegd, niet\nongelijk aan de vestigingen, die de Romeinen in de afgelegenste streken\nvan hun gebied aanlegden, ter beveiliging van den handel en opname van\nreizigers. Dit was ook hier het geval, want waar wij kwamen, waren wel\nde gouverneur en de bezetting Russen en Chinezen, maar de bewoners van\nhet land waren heidenen, die afgoden dienden, en de zon, de maan en\nsterren aanbaden, en dat niet alleen, maar van al de heidenen, die ik\nooit aantrof, waren dit de onbeschaafdste, behalve dat zij niet, gelijk\nde wilden van Amerika deden, menschenvleesch aten.\nEenige blijken hiervan vonden wij in het land tusschen Angura, waar wij\nhet Russische gebied betraden, en eene door de Russen en Tartaren\nbezeten wordende stad, Nortzinskoi genaamd, welke tusschenruimte uit\neene aanhoudende woestijn bestond, die ons twintig dagen kostte, om door\nte trekken. In een dorp nabij de laatste plaats, dreef de\nnieuwsgierigheid mij, om hunne leefwijze te bezien, die\nalleronbeschaafdst is. Zij hadden dien dag eene groote offerande, denk\nik, want op een ouden boomstronk stond een houten afgod, zoo leelijk als\nde duivel, althans zoo leelijk als iets wat den duivel voorstellen moet,\nwezen kan; zijn hoofd geleek naar niets wat ooit iemand zag, zijne ooren\nwaren zoo groot en dik, als bokkenhorens, zijne oogen zoo groot als een\ndriegulden, een neus als een gekromde ramshoorn, en een muil met vier\nhoeken als die van eenen leeuw, met leelijke tanden, zoo hoekig als de\nsneb van een papegaai. Hij was zoo leelijk gekleed als men denken kan,\nzijn bovenkleed was van schapenhuiden met de wol buitenwaarts, en hij\nhad eene groote Tartaarsche muts op het hoofd met twee hoorns er\ndoorkomende. Het was ongeveer acht voet hoog, maar had geene beenen,\nnoch eenige andere ligchaamsdeelen.\nDeze moolik stond aan de buitenzijde van het dorp, en er bijkomende zag\nik zestien of zeventien personen, mannen of vrouwen, dit kon ik niet\nzien, want zij zijn allen volkomen eveneens gekleed, rondom dit\nwanschapen beeld uitgestrekt op den grond liggen. Zij waren even\nbewegingloos, als hun houten afgod. Eerst dacht ik, dat zij ook van hout\nwaren, maar toen ik naderbijkwam, sprongen zij op de been, met een\nkrijschend gehuil, als zoovele huilende honden, en trokken terug, alsof\nzij misnoegd waren, dat zij gestoord waren. Een eind weegs van dit\nmonster, aan de deur van een van gedroogde koeijen- en schapenhuiden\ngemaakte tent, stonden drie slagers, alshans daarvoor hield ik hen, want\nzij hadden lange messen in de hand, en in het midden van de tent stonden\ndrie schapen en een jonge stier. Het waren, naar het schijnt, offers\nvoor dat gedrochtelijk stuk hout, en deze drie mannen priesters van\nhetzelve, en de zeventien op den grond liggende wezens waren lieden, die\nde offers aanbragten, en daarbij hunne gebeden deden.\nIk beken, dat hunne domheid in deze vereering van den moolik mij meer\nergerde, dan iets wat ik ooit aanschouwd had; om Gods edelste schepsel,\naan wien bij de schepping zoo vele voorregten boven al het geschapene\nzijn toegestaan, dat begaafd is met eene redelijke ziel, en met\neigenschappen om zijnen Schepper te eeren; hem zoo diep gezonken te\nzien, dat hij zich voor een leelijk schrikbeeld, een ingebeeld iets,\nnederwerpt, dat hij zelf gevormd en schrikinboezemend gemaakt en met\nvuile lappen bekleed had, dit achtte ik een gewrocht des duivels, die\nden Schepper de aanbidding zijner schepselen benijdde, en hen verleid\nhad tot zulke walgelijke en verderfelijke dingen, als men tegen de\nnatuur zou denken te strijden.\nMaar wat baatten alle deze overwegingen? Ik zag het daar voor mijne\noogen en kon dus niet denken, dat het onmogelijk was. Ik werd woedend en\nreed naar het beeld of monster, hoe men het noemen wil, en deed met\nmijne sabel een houw op de muts, die het droeg, zoodat die aan zijne\nhorens bleef hangen, en een van mijne geleiders trok de schapenhuid er\naf, die het bekleedde, toen er eensklaps, onder een geweldig geschreeuw,\nwel twee of driehonderd man kwamen aanloopen, zoodat ik blijde was de\nvlugt te kunnen kiezen, want wij zagen eenige bogen en pijlen; maar ik\nbesloot toch, het beeld nog een bezoek te geven.\nOnze karavaan bleef drie dagen in het dorp, dat een uur verder lag, om\nzich eenige paarden aan te schaffen, die wij noodig hadden, daar door de\nslechte wegen verscheidene paarden kreupel waren geworden. Dus had ik\ngelegenheid, hier mijn oogmerk uit te voeren. Ik deelde mijn voornemen\nmede aan den Schotschen koopman van Moscou, van wiens moed ik de\nduidelijkste blijken had gezien. Ik zeide hem, wat ik gezien had, en hoe\ndit mijne verontwaardiging had opgewekt, en dat ik besloten had, als ik\nslechts vier of vijf goed gewapende lieden mede kon krijgen, dat\nafschuwelijke afgodsbeeld te gaan vernielen, om hun te laten zien, dat\nhet geene de minste magt bezat, en dus geen voorwerp van vereering zijn\nkon. Hij begon te lagchen en zeide: \"Uw ijver is misschien goed, maar\nwat hebt gij u eigenlijk er bij voorgesteld?\"--\"Wat,\" zeide ik, \"wel om\nGods eer te wreken, die door deze duivelaanbidding beleedigd\nwordt.\"--\"Maar hoe zal dit geschieden,\" vervolgde hij, \"als het volk\nniet weet wat gij daarmede bedoelt, ten zij gij met hen kondt spreken en\nhet hen zeggen? En in dit geval beloof ik u, dat zij u zouden bevechten,\nen vooral ter verdediging van hunnen afgod zouden zij als wanhopigen\nvechten.\"--\"Kunnen wij het niet des nachts doen,\" vroeg ik, \"en hen dan\nschriftelijk in hunne taal er de redenen van achterlaten?\"--\"Schriftelijk?\"\nherhaalde hij, \"wel in al hunne vijf nati\u00ebn is er niet \u00e9\u00e9n, die eene\nletter lezen kan, zelfs niet in zijne moedertaal.\"--\"Welk eene grove\nonwetendheid!\" zeide ik. \"Maar toch heb ik mij voorgenomen het te doen;\nmisschien zullen zij er door tot het besluit komen, dat hunne vereering\nvan zulke plompe dingen beneden den mensch is.\"--\"Hoor eens, mijnheer!\"\nzeide hij, \"als uw ijver er u toe aandrijft, moet gij het doen, maar\nvooreerst moet gij bedenken, dat deze woeste volkeren met geweld onder\nde heerschappij van den Russischen Czaar gebragt zijn; en als gij het\ndoet, is het tien tegen een, dat zij bij duizenden naar den gouverneur\nvan Nortzinskoy zullen komen, om zich te beklagen en voldoening te\neischen, en als hij hun die niet geven kan, is het tien tegen een, dat\nzij zullen opstaan, en dit zal eenen nieuwen oorlog met al de Tartaren\nin het geheele land geven.\"\nDit moet ik bekennen, bragt mij eene poos op andere gedachten, maar ik\nbleef er toch mijne zinnen op zetten, en den geheelen dag verlangde ik\nmijn oogmerk te kunnen volvoeren. Tegen den avond ontmoette ik toevallig\nden Schotschen koopman op eene wandeling buiten de stad, en hij sprak\nmij aan. \"Ik geloof, dat ik u van uw goed voornemen heb afgebragt,\"\nzeide hij, \"en dat spijt mij eenigzins, want ik verfoei de afgoderij\nevenzeer als gij.\"--\"Gij hebt mij zekerlijk overgehaald, de uitvoering\nnog uit te stellen,\" antwoordde ik, \"maar mij er nog niet geheel van\nafgebragt, en ik geloof, dat ik het stuk nog bestaan zal, voordat wij\ndeze plaats verlaten, al zou men mij ook, om hen te voldoen, aan hen\nuitleveren.\"--\"Neen, neen,\" hernam hij, \"voor de uitlevering aan zulk\neen hoop monsters moge de Hemel u bewaren; dat zal men niet doen, dat\nzou uw zekere dood zijn.\"--\"Hoe zouden zij mij dan behandelen?\" vroeg\nik.--\"Ik zal u zeggen,\" hernam hij, \"hoe zij een ongelukkigen Rus\nbehandeld hebben, die hen, zoo als gij wilt, in hunne godsdienst\nbeleedigd had. Nadat zij hem verminkt hadden, dat hij niet kon\nwegloopen, ontkleedden zij hem, en zetteden hem boven op het\nafgodsbeeld, en allen gingen om hem staan, en schoten zoovele pijlen in\nzijn ligchaam, als zij konden, en verbrandden hem daarop ter eere van\nhunnen afgod.\"--\"En was dat dezelfde afgod?\" vroeg ik.--\"Dezelfde,\"\nzeide hij.--\"Nu, dan zal ik u ook iets verhalen,\" zeide ik. Daarop\nverhaalde ik hem het gebeurde te Madagascar, hoe ons volk daar het\ngeheele dorp in brand gestoken en al de bewoners omgebragt had, omdat\nzij een man van ons hadden vermoord, gelijk ik vroeger verhaald heb, en\ntoen ik ge\u00ebindigd had, voegde ik er bij, dat mijns bedunkens met dit\ndorp even zoo moest gehandeld worden.\nHij luisterde zeer oplettend naar mijn verhaal, maar toen ik sprak van\ndit dorp even zoo te behandelen, zeide hij: \"Gij hebt groot ongelijk;\nhet was dit dorp niet, het was bijkans honderd mijlen van hier, maar het\nwas dezelfde afgod, want dien voeren zij in processie het land\nrond.\"--\"Welnu,\" zeide ik, \"dan zal dit beeld er voor gestraft worden,\nen dit zal dezen nacht gebeuren, als ik dien beleef.\"\nToen hij zag, dat ik bij mijn voornemen bleef, keurde hij hetzelve goed,\nen zeide, dat ik niet alleen, maar dat hij met mij zou gaan; maar eerst\nzou hij een zijner landslieden gaan halen, een zeer ondernemend man, en\nzoo vol ijver als iemand tegen zulke werken des duivels als deze. Hij\nbragt daarop zijn makker bij mij, een Schot, dien hij kapitein\nRichardson noemde, en dezen verhaalde ik alles wat ik gezien en gehoord\nhad, en hij zeide, dat hij zou medegaan, al zou het hem het leven\nkosten. Zoo besloten wij dan met ons drie\u00ebn te gaan. Ik had het ook aan\nmijnen compagnon voorgesteld, maar deze weigerde er deel aan te nemen.\nHij zeide, mij overal en ten allen tijde tot mijne verdediging te willen\nbijstaan, maar dit was eene zaak, waarmede ik niets te maken had. Wij\nbesloten dus, met ons drie\u00ebn en mijn knecht dien nacht, tegen\nmiddernacht, het stuk zoo bedekt mogelijk te bestaan.\nBij nadere overweging besloten wij het nog een dag uit te stellen, omdat\nde karavaan den volgenden morgen vertrekken zou, en wij begrepen, dat de\ngouverneur hun dan geene voldoening ten onzen koste zou kunnen geven,\nals wij eens buiten zijn bereik waren. De Schotsche koopman, die even\nstandvastig als moedig was in wat hij ondernam, bragt mij een\nTartaarschen rok van schapenvachten en eene Tartaarsche muts, en boog en\npijlen, hetwelk hij ook voor zich en zijnen landgenoot had aangeschaft,\nopdat als men ons zien mogt, men niet zou weten, wie wij waren.\nDen geheelen avond bragten wij door met het gereedmaken van\nbrandstoffen, door voorloop, kruid en wat wij bekomen konden ondereen te\nmengen, en na ons nog van een pot vol teer meester gemaakt te hebben,\ngingen wij ongeveer een uur na zonsondergang op onze onderneming uit.\nTegen elf ure kwamen wij op de plaats, en vonden dat het volk geen zweem\nvan vrees voor hunnen afgod koesterde. De lucht was bewolkt, maar de\nmaan gaf ons toch licht genoeg, om te zien, dat het afgodsbeeld juist in\ndezelfde houding en op dezelfde plaats stond als vroeger. Al het volk\nscheen te slapen, behalve degenen, die in de groote hut of tent waren,\nwaar wij de drie priesters gezien hadden, die wij voor slagers hadden\naangezien; en digt bij de deur komende, hoorden wij de stemmen van wel\nvijf of zes personen. Wij begrepen nu, dat als wij rondom het\nafgodsbeeld een vuurtje maakten, deze mannen dadelijk zouden\ntoeschieten, om hunnen afgod uit het vuur te redden, en wij wisten niet\nhoe wij tegen hen zouden te werk gaan; eerst dachten wij het afgodsbeeld\nmede te nemen, en op eenen afstand van daar het in brand te steken; maar\ntoen wij het aanpakten, bemerkten wij, dat het voor ons te zwaar was, om\nte vervoeren, dus waren wij weder ten einde raad. De tweede Schot sloeg\nvoor, de hut of tent in brand te steken, en de lieden, die er uitkwamen,\nneder te vellen, maar daarin wilde ik niet toestemmen, want ik wilde hen\nniet dooden, als het bij mogelijkheid kon vermeden worden. \"Welnu, dan\nzal ik u zeggen, wat er gedaan moet worden,\" zeide de Schotsche koopman,\n\"wij moeten trachten hen gevangen te nemen, hen handen en voeten binden,\nen hen de vernieling van hunnen afgod laten aanzien.\"\nToevallig hadden wij genoeg bindtouw of koord bij ons, daar wij onze\nbrandstoffen mede bijeengebonden hadden, en dus besloten wij eerst deze\nlieden, met zoo weinig gerucht als mogelijk, te overvallen. Het eerst,\nwat wij deden, was, aan de deur te kloppen; toen een der priesters\ndezelve opende, grepen wij hem dadelijk aan, stopten hem den mond toe,\nknevelden hem en bragten hem tot voor het afgodsbeeld, waar wij hem aan\nhanden en voeten gebonden, op den grond nederlegden.\nTwee onzer waren aan de deur blijven staan wachten, of niet een ander\nnaar den eerste zou komen uitzien, maar wij stonden er nog, toen de\nderde man bij ons terugkwam, en toen er nog niemand kwam, klopten wij\nweder zachtjes aan, daarop kwamen er nog twee uit, die wij even als den\neerste behandelden, maar wij waren verpligt allen mede te gaan, en hen\nop eenigen afstand van elkander bij den afgod neder te leggen, waarna\nwij terugkeerden en er twee voor de deur zagen staan uitzien, terwijl de\nderde achter hen binnen de hut stond. Wij grepen de twee aan en bonden\nhen dadelijk; waarop de derde terugtrad en begon te schreeuwen. De\nSchotsche koopman volgde hem na, en haalde een mengsel voor den dag, dat\nhij gemaakt had, en hetwelk alleen rook en stank veroorzaakte, dat hij\ndaarop in brand stak en in de hut wierp. Middelerwijl hadden de\nSchotsche koopman en mijn bediende de twee reeds gebonden, mannen\naangegrepen, en legden hen voor hun afgodsbeeld neder, waar zij konden\nzien, of dit hen ook kon helpen, en keerden daarop zoo spoedig mogelijk\nnaar ons terug.\nToen het mengsel, dat wij in de hut hadden geworpen, die tot stikkens\ntoe met rook had opgevuld, wierpen wij een ander lederen zakje er in,\ndat met eene heldere vlam opbrandde, en traden die daarop binnen. Wij\nvonden er nog slechts vier personen in, twee mannen en twee vrouwen,\ndie, naar het scheen, een hunner duivelsfeesten daar gevierd hadden. Zij\nschenen allen doodelijk verschrikt; althans zij zaten ineengehurkt en\nals verbijsterd, zonder dat zij eenig geluid konden geven van wege den\nrook. Wij grepen hen aan en bonden hen even gelijk de overigen, zonder\neenig gedruisch te maken. Wij hadden hen echter eerst buiten de hut\ngebragt, want wij zelve konden het, evenmin als zij, in den rook\nuithouden. Toen dit geschied was, bragten wij hen allen naar het\nafgodsbeeld. Daarna gingen wij te werk met den afgod; eerst beteerden\nwij hem van boven tot onderen, en bestreken hem daarop met een mengsel\nvan talk en zwavel, daarna stopten wij zijne oogen, ooren en mond vol\nmet buskruid, vervolgens stopten wij een zak met vet in zijne muts, en\nbehingen hem toen met al de brandstoffen, die wij hadden medegebragt.\nDaarna zagen wij rond naar alles, wat den brand nog kon helpen, en het\nviel mijnen knecht in, dat hij bij de hut of tent, waar die menschen\ngeweest waren, een hoop droog stroo of biezen had zien liggen. Hij en\neen der Schotten liepen derwaarts en kwamen ieder met een arm vol terug.\nDit gedaan zijnde, namen wij onze gevangenen de stoppers uit den mond,\nplaatsten hen voor hunnen afgod, en staken er daarop den brand in.\nWij bleven er ongeveer een kwartieruurs bij, tot het kruid in de oogen,\nmond en ooren van het beeld vlam vatte, en het geheel geen fatsoen meer\nhad, maar niets dan een blok hout was; en daarop er het stroo voor\nstapelende, zagen wij, dat hij spoedig zou verbrand zijn; dus begonnen\nwij aan ons vertrek te denken. Een der Schotsche kooplieden echter\nzeide: \"Neen, wij moeten niet heengaan, want deze arme onwetende\nschepsels zouden zich allen in het vuur storten en zich met hunnen afgod\nlaten verbranden.\" Wij besloten dus te blijven, totdat alles tot asch\nverbrand was, en toen maakten wij dat wij wegkwamen.\nDes morgens kwamen wij onder onze reisgenooten, druk bezig met onze\ntoebereidselen voor de reis, en niemand vermoedde, dat wij ergens anders\ndan in ons bed waren geweest, gelijk men ook niet anders van reizigers\nverwachten zou, om zich tot de vermoeijenissen van de dagreis in staat\nte stellen.\nMaar daarmede was de zaak niet ge\u00ebindigd. Den volgenden morgen kwam eene\nontzettende menigte landvolk, niet alleen uit het dorp, maar ik geloof\nnog wel uit honderd andere, voor de stadspoorten, en eischten, op de\nonbeschaamdste wijze, voldoening van den gouverneur, voor het beschimpen\nvan hunne priesters, en het verbranden van hunnen grooten\nCham-Chi-Thangu, zulk eenen wanluidenden naam gaven zij aan het\nmonsterachtig schepsel, dat zij vereerden. De inwoners van Nortzinskoy\nwaren in den beginne zeer ontrust, want men zeide, dat er niet minder\ndan dertigduizend Tartaren waren, en dat zij binnen weinige dagen wel\ntot honderdduizend man zouden aangroeijen.\nDe Russische gouverneur zond afgezanten naar hen toe, en gaf hen alle\ngoede woorden, die hij bedenken kon. Hij verzekerde hen, dat hij er\nniets van wist, en dat van de bezetting geen man de stad had verlaten;\ndat het niet door iemand uit de stad kon bedreven zijn, en dat, zoo zij\nhem te kennen gaven, wie het gedaan had, de daders streng gestraft\nzouden worden. Zij antwoordden op hoogen toon, dat een ieder den grooten\nCham-Chi-Thangu vereerde, die in de zon woonde, en dat geen sterveling\ntegen zijn beeld geweld zou hebben durven plegen, dan eenige\nChristelijke booswichten, gelijk zij hen noemden; en dus dreigden zij\nhem en al de Russen, die allen euveldaders en Christenen waren, met\noorlog.\nDe gouverneur, die ongezind was, om eene vredebreuk te bewerken, en niet\nwilde, dat men, bij het uitbreken van eenen oorlog, op hem de schuld\ndaarvan zou leggen, daar de czaar hem strengelijk gelast had, de\nveroverde landstreek met inschikkelijkheid en goedheid te behandelen,\ngaf hun nog steeds goede woorden; eindelijk zeide hij hun, dat er dien\nmorgen eene karavaan naar Rusland vertrokken was, en dat welligt iemand\ndaarbij behoorende, hun deze beleediging had aangedaan, en dat hij, als\nzij hiermede tevreden waren, deze iemand achterop zou zenden, om er naar\nte onderzoeken. Dit scheen hen een weinig tot bedaren te brengen, en\ndiensvolgens zond de gouverneur ons iemand achterop, die ons alles, wat\ner voorgevallen was, mededeelde, en ten dringendste ried, dat zoo iemand\nin onze karavaan het gedaan had, deze zich uit de voeten moest maken;\nmaar dat, of dit het geval ware of niet, wij alle mogelijke haast zouden\nmaken, en dat hij hen middelerwijl, zoo lang hij kon, op den tuil zou\nhouden.\nDit was zeer vriendelijk van den gouverneur. Toen zijn zendeling echter\nbij de karavaan kwam, was er niemand, die er iets van wist, en op ons,\ndie het gedaan hadden, viel in het geheel geene verdenking; niemand\nvroeg er ons zelfs naar. Echter volgde de tegenwoordige aanvoerder van\nde karavaan den raad van den gouverneur, en wij trokken twee dagen en\ntwee nachten achter elkander voort, zonder van belang te rusten, dan in\neen dorpje, Plothus genaamd, en ook daar bleven wij niet lang, maar\nhaastten ons naar Jarawena, eene andere Russische stichting, waar wij\nvertrouwden, veilig te zullen zijn. Maar om daar te komen, begaven wij\nons in eene uitgestrekte woestijn, waarover ik nader zal spreken, en\nwaarin wij, zoo wij er midden in geweest waren, waarschijnlijk allen ons\ngraf zouden gevonden hebben. Het was de tweede dag na ons vertrek van\nPlothus, dat eenigen onzer, aan de groote stofwolken, die op verren\nafstand achter ons oprezen, begonnen te vermoeden, dat wij vervolgd\nwerden. Wij waren de woestijn ingetrokken, en hadden een groot meer,\nSchaks-Oser genaamd, op zijde van ons laten liggen, toen wij aan de\nandere zijde van hetzelve noordwaarts van ons, een groote troep\npaardenvolk zagen verschijnen, terwijl wij westwaarts trokken. Wij\nbemerkten, dat zij, even als wij, westwaarts trokken, maar in de meening\nwaren geweest, dat wij langs de overzijde van het meer zouden zijn\ngetrokken, terwijl wij gelukkig de zuidzijde gekozen hadden, en twee\ndagen later zagen wij niets meer van hen, want daar zij geloofden, dat\nwij hen nog steeds vooruit waren, trokken zij verder, tot zij aan de\nrivier Udda kwamen; deze is hooger noordwaarts een zeer groote stroom,\ndoch waar wij er bijkwamen, was zij smal en konden wij haar doorwaden.\nDen derden dag bespeurden zij hunnen misslag, of hadden zij tijding van\nons ontvangen, want in de schemering van den avond kwamen zij op ons af.\nWij waren zeer in onzen schik, dat wij juist voor ons nachtleger eene\nzeer geschikte plaats hadden uitgekozen, want daar wij aan den zoom van\neene woestijn waren, die ongeveer vijfhonderd (Eng.) mijlen groot was,\nzoo hadden wij geene steden te wachten, noch verwachtten wij ook geene\naan te treffen, buiten Jarawena, dat nog twee dagreizen van ons af lag.\nAan deze zijde waren echter eenige boschaadjes en beekjes, die allen in\nde groote rivier Udda uitliepen. In eenen engen pas tusschen twee digte\nboschjes sloegen wij ons nachtleger op, in de verwachting van in den\nnacht aangevallen te zullen worden.\nNiemand dan wij wisten, waarom wij eigenlijk vervolgd werden, maar daar\nde Mongoolsche Tartaren gewoon zijn, bij troepen in deze woestijn rond\nte zwerven, verschansen de karavanen zich iederen nacht tegen hen, als\ntegen rooverbenden, en dus was het niets vreemds, dat wij achtervolgd\nwerden. Maar van al onze nachtlegers hadden wij dezen nacht eene\nallerbijzonderst gunstige legerplaats, want wij lagen tusschen twee\nboschjes, met een beekje vlak van voren, zoodat wij niet omsingeld, noch\nanders dan van voren en achteren aangetast konden worden. Wij zorgden\nderhalve ons front zooveel te versterken, als wij konden, door onze\npakken en kameelen en paarden, allen in eene lijn aan deze zijde van het\nriviertje te plaatsen, en achter ons maakten wij eene verhakking van\neenige boomen.\nIn deze stelling sloegen wij ons veldleger op, maar voordat onze\ntoerustingen voltooid waren, hadden wij reeds den vijand bij ons. Zij\novervielen ons niet, zoo als wij verwacht hadden, gelijk roovers, maar\nzonden ons drie lieden toe, om ons af te vragen de uitlevering van\ndegenen, die hunne priesters mishandeld en hunnen afgod Cham-Chi-Thangu\nverbrand hadden, ten einde deze met vuur te verbranden. In dat geval,\nzeiden zij, zouden zij ons geen leed doen, maar aftrekken; doch zoo\nniet, dan zouden zij ons allen met vuur verbranden. De onzen zagen bij\ndeze boodschap vrij onthutst, en gaapten elkander aan, om uit elkanders\ngelaat te lezen, wie er schuldig was; maar niemand had het gedaan,\nniemand wist er iets van. De aanvoerder van de karavaan gaf ten\nantwoord, dat hij verzekerd was, dat niemand uit ons kamp het gedaan kon\nhebben, dat wij vreedzame kooplieden waren, die zich alleen met hunnen\nhandel bemoeiden, dat wij noch hen noch iemand anders kwaad hadden\ngedaan, en dat zij derhalve elders moesten zoeken naar de vijanden, die\nhen beleedigd hadden, want dat wij het niet waren; dus verzocht hij hun,\nom ons geen kwaad te doen, want dat wij geweld met geweld zouden\nvergelden.\nWel verre van met dit antwoord tevreden te zijn, kwam den volgenden\nmorgen met het krieken van den dag eene groote troep van hen ons kamp\nopzoeken; maar toen zij ons in zulk eene voordeelige stelling zagen,\ndurfden zij niet verder komen, dan de beek voor ons, waar zij staan\nbleven, en aan ons eene menigte vertoonden, zoo talrijk, dat wij er\ninderdaad van ontzetteden; want naar de geringste schatting waren er wel\ntienduizend. Zij bleven daar eene poos ons staan opnemen, en toen zonden\nzij, onder een geweldig geschreeuw ons eene wolk van pijlen toe, maar\ndaartegen waren wij zeer goed beschut, want wij zochten eene\nschuilplaats achter onze pakken, en ik herinner mij niet, dat iemand\nonzer eene kwetsuur ontving.\nEene poos daarna zagen wij hen regtsaf zwenken, en wij verwachtten van\nachteren aangevallen te zullen worden; toen een doorslepen knaap, een\nkozak van Jarawena, die in Russische dienst was, naar den aanvoerder van\nde karavaan ging, en hem zeide: \"Ik zal al het volk naar Siheilka\nterugzenden.\" Dit was eene stad, zeker vier of vijf dagreizen zuidwaarts\nen eenigzins achter ons. Daarop nam hij zijn boog en pijlen, steeg te\npaard en reed als het ware achterwaarts, alsof hij regt naar Nortzinskoy\nwilde terugkeeren; daarna nam hij eenen verren omweg en kwam zoo bij het\nTartaarsche leger, alsof hij naar hen afgezonden was, en deed hen daarop\neen lang verhaal, dat het volk, hetwelk hunnen Cham-Chi-Thangu verbrand\nhad, met eene troep boosdoeners, gelijk hij zeide, dat wil zeggen\nChristenen, naar Siheilka was gegaan; en dat zij besloten hadden, om den\nafgod Schal-Isar, die aan de Tunguzen behoorde, ook te verbranden.\nDaar deze knaap een volkomen Tartaar was en hunne taal volmaakt sprak,\nspeelde hij zijne rol zoo goed, dat zij hem in alles geloofden, en dat\nzij zich zoo haastig mogelijk naar Siheilka spoedden, dat, naar het\nscheen, bijkans vijf dagreizen zuidwaarts van ons lag. Binnen drie uren\nwaren zij allen uit ons gezigt, en nimmer hoorden wij iets meer van hen,\nnoch kwamen te weten, of zij naar Siheilka waren gegaan of niet. Wij\ntrokken thans in veiligheid naar Jarawena, waar een Russisch garnizoen\nlag, en hier bleven wij vijf dagen, doordien de laatste dagreis en het\ngemis der nachtrust de karavaan uiterst vermoeid had.\nVan deze stad hadden wij eene akelige woestijn, die ons drie\u00ebntwintig\ndagen ophield. Wij voorzagen ons hier van eenige tenten, ten einde het\ndes nachts gemakkelijker te hebben, en de aanvoerder voorzag hier de\nkaravaan van zestien wagens, om water en levensmiddelen mede te voeren;\nen deze wagens strekten tot verschansing van ons kamp gedurende den\nnacht, zoodat, als de Tartaren weder verschenen waren, zij ons weinig\nafbreuk hadden kunnen doen, ten ware zij in overgroot getal kwamen.\nLigt zal men begrijpen, dat wij na eene zoo lange reis rust behoefden,\nwant in deze woestijn zagen wij huizen noch boomen, naauwelijks nu en\ndan wat heesters. Wij zagen echter eene menigte sabeljagers, gelijk men\nhen noemt; dat waren allen Tartaren uit Mongoolsch Tartarije, waarvan\ndit land een gedeelte uitmaakt, en dikwijls tasten zij kleine karavanen\naan; maar wij zagen geene talrijke troepen van hen bijeen. Ik verlangde\neenige sabelvellen van hen te zien, maar ik kon niet met hen in gesprek\nkomen, want zij durfden ons zoo digt niet te naderen, en wij durfden ons\ngezelschap niet verlaten, om hen te naderen. Na deze woestijn\ndoorgetrokken te zijn, kwamen wij in eene vrij bevolkte landstreek, dat\nwil zeggen wij vonden dorpen en kasteelen, door den czaar van Rusland\ngesticht, om de karavanen te beschermen en het land tegen de Tartaren te\nverdedigen, die anders het reizen allergevaarlijkst zouden maken, en\nzijne majesteit heeft zulke strikte bevelen gegeven omtrent het\nbeschermen der karavanen en kooplieden, dat, als men verneemt, dat er\nzich in de landstreek Tartaren ophouden, er altijd afdeelingen van de\nbezettingen afgezonden worden, om de reizigers veilig van station tot\nstation te geleiden. Zoo bood de gouverneur van Adinskoy, dien ik\ngelegenheid had een bezoek te geven, door middel van den Schotschen\nkoopman, die hem kende, ons eene wacht van vijftig man aan, tot aan het\nnaaste station, als wij dachten, dat er gevaar was.\nReeds lang te voren had ik gedacht, dat, daar wij nu nader bij Europa\nkwamen, wij het land meer bevolkt, en het volk meer beschaafd zouden\nvinden; maar in beide opzigten vond ik mij bedrogen; want wij moesten\nnog het land der Tunguzen doortrekken, waar wij dezelfde of nog ergere\nblijken van heidendom en barbaarschheid te zien kregen, als te voren;\ndaar echter het land door de Russen veroverd en geheel onder hunne\nheerschappij gebragt is, zijn zij niet zoo gevaarlijk; doch in\nonbeschaafdheid, afgoderij en veelgodendom doen zij voor geen volk ter\nwereld onder. Zij gaan allen in beestenvellen gekleed, waarvan ook hunne\nhuizen gebouwd zijn. Men kan geene mannen of vrouwen van elkander\nonderscheiden, noch aan hun ruw gelaat, noch aan hunne kleeding, en des\nwinters als de grond met sneeuw bedekt is, leven zij onder den grond, in\neene soort van gewelven, die kelders of holen hebben, die in elkander\nloopen.\nTerwijl de Tartaren hunnen Cham-Chi-Thangu hadden voor een geheel dorp\nof landschap, bezaten deze een afgod in ieder huis en in ieder hol;\nbovendien vereeren zij de zon, de sterren, het water, de sneeuw, kortom,\nalles wat boven hun begrip is, en zij begrijpen slechts zeer weinig,\nzoodat bijkans alles, wat buitengewoon is, door hen vereerd wordt.\nMaar ik zal verder geene volken of landstreken meer beschrijven, dan\nvoor zoover het met mijne eigene lotgevallen in verband staat. Niets\nbijzonders gebeurde ons in deze geheele landstreek, die van de woestijn\naf, waarvan ik het laatst sprak, naar mijne gissing ten minste\nvierhonderd (Eng.) mijlen groot was, en waarbij wij eene andere groote\nwoestijn aantroffen, die ons twaalf dagreizen kostte, waar wij noch\nhuis, noch boom, noch struik zagen, maar levensmiddelen, zoowel brood\nals water, moesten medevoeren. Uit deze woestijn kwamen wij, na twee\ndagen reizens, te Janezay, eene Russische stad of sterkte aan de rivier\nJanezay. Deze rivier, verhaalde men ons, scheidt Europa van Azi\u00eb, doch\nik geloof niet, dat onze kaartenmakers dit zullen toestemmen. Zeker is\nhet de oostelijke grens van het oude Siberi\u00eb, dat nu slechts een\nwingewest van het Russische rijk is, maar zoo groot op zichzelf als\ngeheel Duitschland.\nEn zelfs hier bespeurde ik nog overal onwetendheid en heidendom, behalve\nin de Russische garnizoenen; het geheele land tusschen de rivier Obij en\nde Janezay, is zoo geheel heidensch en het volk zoo onbeschaafd, als de\nverst afgelegene Tartaren, ja, zelfs als eenig volk, dat ik weet, in\nAzi\u00eb of Amerika. Ik vond ook, gelijk ik de Russische gouverneurs, welke\nik van tijd tot tijd sprak, deed opmerken, dat de heidenen noch\nverstandiger, noch nader bij het Christendom zijn, omdat zij onder de\nRussische heerschappij woonden, hetwelk zij erkennen moesten, dat maar\nal te waar was, maar zij zeiden, dat hen dit niet aanging; maar als de\nczaar goedvond, zijne Siberische, Tungusische of Tartaarsche onderdanen\nte bekeeren, dan moest hij het doen door priesters tot hen te zenden,\nmaar geene soldaten; en zij voegden er met meer opregtheid dan ik\nverwacht had, bij, dat zij ondervonden, dat hun monarch er minder op\ngesteld was, om hen tot Christenen, dan wel tot zijne onderdanen te\nmaken.\nVan hier tot aan de groote rivier Oby trokken wij door een woest,\nonbebouwd land; het land is wel niet onvruchtbaar, maar het heeft gebrek\naan bevolking, anders is het op zichzelf een zeer aangenaam, vruchtbaar\nen bevallig land. Al de inwoners, die wij aantroffen, waren heidenen,\nbehalve zulken, die uit Rusland derwaarts gezonden waren; want in deze\nlandstreek, namelijk aan de beide kanten van de rivier Oby, worden de\nRussische misdadigers, die niet ter dood veroordeeld worden, gebannen,\nen het is genoegzaam onmogelijk, dat zij hier ooit kunnen ontvlugten.\nMijzelven wedervoer niets bijzonders, totdat ik te Tobolsk, de hoofdstad\nvan Siberi\u00eb, kwam, waar de volgende reden mij eenigen tijd deed\nvertoeven.\nWij waren thans bijkans zeven maanden op reis geweest, en de winter\nnaderde met snelle schreden, weshalve mijn compagnon en ik over onze\nzaken beraadslaagden, dewijl wij het noodig achtten, te overleggen hoe\nwij verder zouden handelen, omdat onze bestemming naar Engeland, en niet\nnaar Moskou, was. Men sprak ons van sleden en rendieren, om ons in den\nwinter over de sneeuw te vervoeren; en inderdaad door dit middel is het,\ndat de Russen beter in den winter dan in den zomer reizen kunnen, omdat\nzij in deze sleden nacht en dag doorrijden, daar de natuur hun door de\nthans bevrozen sneeuw eene effene baan verschaft, en de hoogten en\nlaagten, rivieren en meren allen effen en zoo hard als steen zijn, en\nzij glijden over de oppervlakte, zonder zich te bekreunen wat er onder\nis.\nMaar zulk eene winterreis was voor mij niet voegzaam; ik moest naar\nEngeland, en niet naar Moskou. Twee wegen lagen thans voor mij: de een\nwas met de karavaan mede te gaan tot Jaroslaw, en dan westwaarts naar\nNerva en de Finlandsche golf, en zoo ter zee of te land naar Dantzig,\nwaar ik mijne Chinesche goederen misschien zeer voordeelig zou kunnen\nafzetten; of ik moest de karavaan aan een stadje aan de Dwina verlaten,\nvanwaar ik in zes dagen te water naar Archangel kon komen, en daar was\nik zeker scheepsgelegenheid te zullen vinden naar Holland, Engeland of\nHamburg. Maar het ware niet raadzaam geweest, om een dezer togten in den\nwinter te ondernemen, want bij Dantzig zou de Oostzee bevrozen en dus\nvoor mij ontoegankelijk zijn, en om te land van daar te trekken, zou\nveel onveiliger zijn, dan onder de Mongoolsche Tartaren; even zoo als ik\nin October naar Archangel ging, zouden al de schepen van daar vertrokken\nzijn, en ik zou daar niets te wachten hebben dan veel koude en weinig\nlevensmiddelen, en den geheelen winter in eene eenzame stad moeten\ndoorbrengen. Na alles te hebben overwogen, achtte ik het dus veel beter;\nde karavaan te laten vertrekken en den winter door te brengen waar ik\nwas, namelijk te Tobolsk in Siberi\u00eb, op eene breedte van 60\u00b0, waar ik\nverzekerd was van drie dingen, waarmede men een kouden winter kan\ndoorstaan, namelijk overvloed van eten en drinken wat het land oplevert;\neen warm huis met genoeg brandstof, en uitmuntend gezelschap, gelijk ik\nnader zal vermelden.\nIk was nu in een klimaat, geheel verschillend van mijn bemind eiland,\nwaar ik nimmer koude gevoelde, dan als ik de koorts had; integendeel,\nhet viel mij daar zuur eenige kleederen te dragen, en waar ik nimmer\nvuur aanlegde, dan buiten de deur en als ik het noodig had, om eten te\nkoken. Nu liet ik mij drie goede rokken maken, met wijde jassen er over,\ndie tot op de voeten hingen, en tot beneden toe digt toegeknoopt konden\nworden, en die allen met bont gevoerd en zeer warm waren.\nVan een warm huis gesproken, moet ik zeggen, dat ik onze Engelsche\nmanier zeer afkeur, om in elke kamer van het huis in opene schoorsteenen\nvuur aan te maken, waardoor, als het vuur uit was, de lucht in de kamer\neven koud wordt als de buitenlucht. Maar na mijn intrek in een goed\nhuis in de stad genomen te hebben, liet ik een schoorsteen bouwen als\neen oven, in het midden van zes kamers; de pijp, door welke de rook\nwegtrok, liep naar de eene zijde, en de plaats om er de brandstof in te\ndoen, was aan de andere zijde, en al de kamers werden even warm\ngehouden, zonder dat men het vuur zag, even als men de badstoven in\nEngeland heet maakt. Hierdoor was het altijd in alle kamers even warm,\nen hadden wij steeds eene gelijkmatige warmte, en hoe koud het ook\nbuiten ware, binnen was het altijd warm, echter zagen wij geen vuur, en\nhadden nimmer eenigen last van den rook.\nHet zonderlingste van alles was, dat men hier zulk goed gezelschap\naantrof, in een land, zoo woest als de noordelijkste deelen van Europa,\nnabij de Poolzee, en slechts weinige graden van Nova Zembla. Maar daar\ndit het land is, waarheen, gelijk ik vroeger zeide, al de\nstaatsgevangenen van Rusland worden gebannen, was het er vol van\nvorsten, edellieden, generaals, kortom, alle graden van edelen, soldaten\nen hovelingen van Rusland. Hier was de vermaarde prins Galopkin of\nGalitzin en zijn zoon, de oude generaal Robodisky en verscheidene andere\naanzienlijke personen en eenige vrouwen van rang.\nDoor middel van mijne Schotsche kooplieden, waarvan eenige mij echter\nhier verlieten, geraakte ik met verscheidene van deze heeren in kennis,\nwaaronder eenige van den hoogsten rang, waarmede ik in de lange\nwinteravonden, die ik hier doorbragt, eenen zeer aangenamen omgang had.\nIk sprak op een avond met eenen zekeren prins, een der gebannen\nministers van den Moscovischen Czaar, toen het gesprek op mijne\nlotgevallen viel. Hij had mij veel fraais verhaald van de grootheid en\nluister, van het gebied en de onbeperkte magt van zijnen vorst. Ik viel\nhem in de rede, en zeide, dat ik een veel grooter en magtiger vorst was,\ndan de Russische keizer, schoon mijn gebied zoo groot niet was, noch\nmijne onderdanen zoo talrijk waren als de zijne. De Russische prins\nzette groote oogen op, terwijl hij mij strak aanzag, en begreep niet,\nwat ik wilde te kennen geven. Ik zeide hem, dat zijne verwondering zou\nophouden, als ik hem alles verklaard had. Eerst zeide ik hem, dat ik\nonbeperkte magt over het leven en de bezittingen mijner onderdanen had,\ndat niettegenstaande mijne onbeperkte magt, niet een hunner eenig\nmisnoegen had tegen mijne regering of mijnen persoon, op geheel mijn\ngebied. Hij schudde het hoofd, en zeide, dat ik in dat geval meer kon\nzeggen dan de czaar. Ik voegde er bij, dat al de landerijen in mijn rijk\nmijn eigendom waren, en al mijne onderdanen slechts mijne pachters, en\ndat wel vrijwillig waren, dat zij allen hunnen laatsten bloeddroppel\nvoor mij zouden willen storten, en dat nimmer een willekeurig heerscher,\nwant dit bekende ik te zijn, ooit zoo algemeen bemind en toch zoo\nontzettend gevreesd was geworden van zijne onderdanen.\nNa hem eenigen tijd met deze raadsels te hebben bezig gehouden, gaf ik\nhem de oplossing en verhaalde hem breedvoerig hoe ik op het eiland\ngekomen was, en hoe ik daar huishield, zoowel als de bevolking onder\nmij, gelijk ik hiervoren uitvoerig verhaald heb. Zij waren er allen zeer\nmede ingenomen, inzonderheid de prins, die mij met een zucht zeide, dat\nde ware grootheid bestond in heerschappij over zichzelven te voeren, dat\nhij eene levenswijze als de mijne niet voor die van czaar van Moscovi\u00eb\nzou willen ruilen, en dat hij meer geluk vond in de afzondering, waarin\nhij hier gebannen scheen, dan vroeger ooit in de hoogste magt, die hij\naan het hof van zijnen meester, den czaar, genoten had; dat het toppunt\nvan menschelijke wijsheid bestond in onzen geest naar de omstandigheden\nte voegen, en rust en stilte van binnen te bewaren, terwijl buiten de\ngeweldigste stormen loeiden. Toen hij eerst hier kwam, zeide hij, had\nhij zich de haren uit het hoofd en de kleederen van het lijf gescheurd,\ngelijk anderen voor hem gedaan hadden; maar eenig tijdverloop en\nnadenken hadden hem geleerd, een blik in zichzelven, zoowel als op de\nvoorwerpen buiten hem te slaan; hij had bevonden, dat zoo 's menschen\ngeest slechts eerst ernstig nadenkt over den staat van ons leven in het\nalgemeen; en hoe weinig men voor zijn waar geluk in deze wereld noodig\nheeft, men volkomen in staat is, om voor zichzelven een geluk te\nbereiden, dat volkomen genoegzaam is, en met onze beste verlangens en\nbestemming strookt, en waartoe de wereld slechts weinig behoeft bij te\ndragen; dat lucht, om in te ademen, voedsel, om te leven, kleederen, om\nde koude af te weren, en gelegenheid tot ligchaamsbeweging, om zijne\ngezondheid te onderhouden, naar zijne meening alles waren, wat de wereld\nons kon opleveren. Schoon de grootheid, magt, rijkdommen en het gezag,\ndie sommigen in de wereld bezitten, en waarvan hij zijn deel meer dan\nhem lief was had gehad, in vele opzigten aangenaam voor ons waren, moest\nhij echter opmerken, dat al deze dingen grootendeels strekken, om onze\nminder edele hartstogten te voldoen, als onze hoogmoed, ijdelheid,\neerzucht, gierigheid of ligtgeraaktheid, welke alle inderdaad op\nzichzelve misdadig zijn, en in zich de zaden van alle misdaden bevatten;\nterwijl zij op geenerlei wijze in betrekking staan tot die\neigenschappen, die de wijsheid ons leert, of tot die deugd, die ons\nChristenen onderscheidt. Thans, vervolgde bij, beroofd van al het\ngewaande geluk, dat hij in de uitoefening van al deze ondeugden vond,\nhad hij ruimschoots gelegenheid, om deze van de keerzijde te beschouwen,\nwaarop hij allerlei soort van verkeerdheden vond, en thans was hij\novertuigd, dat de deugd alleen iemand rijk, groot en magtig maakt, en\nhem op den weg houdt, die tot hooger geluk in eene andere wereld voert,\nen in dit opzigt, zeide hij, waren zij in hunne verbanning gelukkiger,\ndan al hunne vijanden, die in het volle genot waren van al die weelde en\nmagt, die zij (de bannelingen) hadden moeten achterlaten.\n\"En mijnheer!\" zeide hij, \"het is niet door den drang der\nomstandigheden, die sommigen ongelukkig noemen, dat ik uit staatkunde\ndit aan mijnen geest zoek op te dringen. Zoo ik mijzelven eenigzins ken,\nzou ik thans niet terugkeeren, neen, zelfs niet, al zou mijn meester, de\nczaar, mij terugroepen, met aanbieding van mij in al mijne vorige\ngrootheid te herstellen, ik zou, ik herhaal het, evenmin derwaarts\nterugkeeren, als ik vertrouw, dat mijne ziel, na eenmaal van de banden\ndes ligchaams ontslagen te zijn en eenen voorsmaak gehad te hebben van\neenen hemelschen staat na dit leven, zou willen terugkeeren in zijne\ngevangenis van vleesch en bloed, waarin zij thans is besloten, en den\nhemel verlaten, om in het slijk der aarde rond te zwerven.\"\nHij zeide dit met zooveel vuur, en op zijn gelaat blonk zulk eenen\nernst, dat dit blijkbaar de ware meening zijner ziel was, en waarlijk er\nwas geene reden, om zijne opregtheid in twijfel te trekken.\nIk zeide hem, dat ik eenmaal in mijnen voormaligen toestand, waarvan ik\nhem verhaald had, mijzelven eene soort van monarch gedacht had, maar dat\nik hem thans niet alleen als eenen monarch, maar als een groot\nveroveraar beschouwde, want dat hij zijne eigene hooggaande begeerten\nonder het juk had gebragt, en eene volstrekte heerschappij over\nzichzelven voerde; en hij, wiens rede al zijne daden bestuurt, is zeker\ngrooter dan hij, die eene stad inneemt. \"Maar mag ik zoo vrij zijn van u\neene vraag te doen, mijnheer?\" zeide ik.--\"Met al mijn hart,\" antwoordde\nhij.--\"Bijaldien de deur voor de vrijheid u werd opengesteld,\" zeide ik,\n\"zoudt gij die dan niet aangrijpen, om u uit deze ballingschap te\nbevrijden?\"--\"Uwe vraag is dubbelzinnig,\" zeide hij, \"en heeft eenige\njuiste onderscheidingen noodig, om er een opregt antwoord op te kunnen\ngeven, en die zal ik u uit grond van mijn hart geven. Niets ter wereld\nzou mij aandrijven, om mij uit dezen staat van ballingschap te\nverwijderen, dan twee beweegredenen; eerstelijk het verlangen, om mijne\nbloedverwanten weder te zien, en tweedens een warmer luchtgestel. Maar\ndit verzeker ik u, om terug te keeren naar den luister van het hof, den\nroem, de magt, de bezigheden van eenen minister, de rijkdommen, de\ngenoegens en vermaken, dat wil zeggen dwaasheden, van eenen hoveling;\nals mijn meester mij op dit oogenblik liet weten, dat hij mij in het\nbezit herstelde van alles, wat hij mij ontnomen heeft, dan verzeker ik\nu, dat ik, als ik eenigzins mijzelven ken, deze woestijnen, wildernissen\nen ijsvelden niet voor de paleizen van Moskou zou willen\nverlaten.\"--\"Maar prins!\" vervolgde ik, \"misschien zijt gij niet alleen\nverbannen van de vermaken van het hof en van de magt, het gezag en de\nschatten, die vroeger uw deel waren, maar gij kunt ook van eenige\ngemakken des levens verstoken zijn; uwe bezittingen zijn misschien\nverbeurd verklaard, en wat men u hier toestaat, is welligt niet\nvoldoende, om in uwe gewone behoeften te voorzien.\"--\"Ja,\" zeide hij,\n\"dat is ook zoo, als gij mij beschouwt als een edelman, een prins,\ngelijk ik ook ben; maar gij moet mij thans alleen beschouwen, als een\nmensch, een menschelijk wezen, dat zich van geen zijner medemenschen\nonderscheidt, en dan kan ik geen gebrek lijden, tenzij ik met ziekte of\nkwalen mogt bezocht worden. Om echter deze vraag op te lossen: gij ziet\nonze levenswijze, wij zijn hier met ons vijven, personen van hoogen\nrang, wij leven zoo stil, als in eenen staat van ballingschap. Van onze\nfortuin hebben wij uit de schipbreuk een klein gedeelte gered, hetgeen\nons van de verpligting ontslaat, om met jagen den kost te verdienen,\nmaar de arme soldaten, die hier zijn, en die hulp niet hebben, leven\neven ruim als wij. Zij gaan in de bosschen en vangen sabels en vossen;\neene maand hieraan besteed, verschaft hun levensonderhoud voor een jaar,\nen daar de levenswijze hier niet kostbaar is, is het gemakkelijk het\nnoodige te verwerven; dus is deze tegenwerping vervallen.\"\nHet zou mij te ver voeren, als ik een volledig verslag wilde geven van\nhet aangename onderhoud, dat ik met dezen waarlijk grooten man had;\ngedurende hetwelk hij bewees, dat zijn geest zoo vervuld was met een\ndiep inzigt in alle zaken; zoo gesterkt werd door godsdienst, zoowel als\ndoor de uitgebreidste kennis; dat zijne versmading van de wereld\nwerkelijk was, zoo als hij verklaarde, en dat hij zichzelven steeds\ngelijk bleef, gelijk in het vervolg van dit verhaal zal blijken.\nIk bragt hier acht maanden in eenen donkeren, treurigen winter door; de\nkoude was zoo streng, dat ik mijn neus niet buiten de deur kon steken,\nzonder in bont gewikkeld te zijn, en een masker voor het gelaat te\ndragen, of liever een digte sluijer, met een gat, om te ademen, en twee,\nom te zien. Het korte daglicht, dat wij hadden, was ongeveer drie\nmaanden lang niet meer dan vijf uren daags, zes op zijn hoogst, schoon\nhet nimmer zeer donker was, daar de sneeuw voortdurend liggen bleef en\nhet weder helder was. Onze paarden stonden in eenen kelder te\nverkwijnen, en onze dienstboden (want wij huurden die, om ons en onze\npaarden op te passen) waren telkens de handen en voeten bevroren.\nEchter zaten wij binnenshuis warm, de huizen waren digt, de muren dik,\nde vensters klein en allen met dubbele glazen. Ons eten bestond\nhoofdzakelijk in gedroogd wild, goed brood, als beschuit gebakken,\nverschillende soorten van gedroogden visch, en eenig schapen- en\nbuffelvleesch, dat zeer goed is. Alle levensmiddelen voor den winter\nworden in den zomer ingelegd. Onze drank was water, met brandewijn\nvermengd, en meede in plaats van wijn, voor een traktement, die zij\nechter zeer goed hebben. De jagers, die in elk weder uitgaan, bragten\nons dikwijls zeer goed en vet wild, en somtijds beerenvleesch, doch om\nhet laatste gaven wij niet veel. Wij hadden een goeden voorraad thee,\nwaarop wij onze vrienden onthaalden; met een woord, wij leidden over het\ngeheel een zeer goed leven.\nHet was nu Maart; de dagen begonnen vrij wat langer en het weder althans\ndragelijker te worden; derhalve begonnen de andere reizigers sleden\ngereed te maken, om hen over de sneeuw te brengen; maar ik had besloten,\ngelijk ik gezegd heb, naar Archangel, en niet naar Rusland of de Oostzee\nte gaan, en ik bleef dus waar ik was, want ik wist zeer goed, dat de\nschepen uit het zuiden daar niet voor Mei of Junij heengaan, en dat, als\nik in het begin van Augustus daar kwam, ik er vroeg genoeg zou zijn, om\nmet een der eerst vertrekkende schepen mede te gaan, en derhalve maakte\nik geen haast om te vertrekken, zoo als de anderen, en zag dus ook eene\ngroote menigte volks, ja, eindelijk alle reizigers voor mij vertrekken.\nHet schijnt, dat zij van Moskou alle jaren herwaarts trekken, om te\nhandelen, namelijk om pelterijen te brengen, en andere noodwendigheden\nte halen voor hunne winkels; en deze gaan met hetzelfde, oogmerk naar\nArchangel, maar deze allen, die ongeveer achthonderd mijlen terug\nmoesten, vertrokken voor mij.\nTegen het laatst van Mei begon ik mij ook tot mijn vertrek gereed te\nmaken, en terwijl ik dit deed, schoot mij te binnen, terwijl ik al deze\nlieden zag, die de czaar naar Siberi\u00eb gebannen had, en die toch als zij\nhier gekomen waren, vrijheid hadden om te gaan waarheen zij wilden,\nwaarom zij niet heengingen naar eenig deel der wereld, waar zij\ngoedvonden, en ik begon na te gaan wat hen belette zulks te ondernemen.\nMaar mijne verwondering hield op, toen ik hierover sprak, met den prins,\nvan wien ik hiervoren gewag gemaakt heb, en die mij het volgende ten\nantwoord gaf: \"In de eerste plaats, mijnheer! moet gij bedenken, waar\nwij zijn; ten tweede den toestand waarin wij zijn, en bijzonder den\ntoestand van het volk, dat hier gebannen is. Wij zijn hier omgeven door\nsterkere sluitingen dan muren en grendels; aan de noordzijde is eene\nonbevaarbare oceaan, waarop nimmer een schip gezeild heeft, noch eene\nboot gevaren, en al bezaten wij beide, wij zouden niet weten waarheen er\nmede te gaan. Langs elken anderen weg,\" vervolgde hij, \"moeten wij\nongeveer duizend (Eng.) mijlen het gebied van den czaar doortrekken,\nlangs wegen die ontoegankelijk zijn, behalve die welke de regering\ngemaakt heeft, en door steden, waarin zij bezetting heeft liggen, zoodat\nwij nimmer dien weg kunnen volgen, zonder ontdekt te worden, noch op\neene andere wijze levensmiddelen erlangen; alle pogingen daartoe zijn\nderhalve vergeefs.\"\nDit bragt mij tot zwijgen, en ik zag in, dat zij inderdaad in eene\ngevangenis waren opgesloten, zoo zeker, alsof zij in het kasteel van\nMoskou achter de grendels zaten. Het denkbeeld kwam echter bij mij op,\ndat ik wel het werktuig kon zijn, om een zoo uitmuntend persoon te doen\nontsnappen, en dat het voor mij zeer gemakkelijk was, hem mede te\nvoeren, daar er geene wacht hier te lande over hem gehouden werd. En\ndaar ik niet naar Moskou ging, maar wel naar Archangel, en op de wijze\nvan eene karavaan voorttrok, waardoor ik niet verpligt was de\nvestigingen in de woeste streken te betrekken, maar mijne nachten kon\ndoorbrengen waar ik wilde, konden wij gemakkelijk zonder verhindering\nArchangel bereiken, waar ik hem dadelijk aan boord van een Engelsch of\nHollandsch schip zou brengen. Wat zijn onderhoud en andere kleinigheden\nbetrof, hiervoor zou ik zorgen, totdat hij daarin zelf kon voorzien.\nHij hoorde mij zeer oplettend aan, terwijl ik hem dit voorstelde, en zag\nmij al den tijd dat ik sprak strak aan, ja, ik kon op zijn gelaat zien,\ndat hetgeen ik zeide zijn gemoed hevig in beweging bragt; hij veranderde\ndikwerf van kleur, zijne oogen vonkelden, en men kon ligt bespeuren, dat\nhij weifelde. Hij was eerst niet in staat om mij te antwoorden, toen ik\nhad uitgesproken, en ik, als het ware, wachtte wat hij er van zou\nzeggen. Na eenigen tijd gezwegen te hebben, omhelsde hij mij en zeide:\n\"Hoe ongelukkig zijn wij, feilbare menschen toch, dat zelfs onze beste\ndaden van vriendschap ons tot een strik worden, en dat wij elkander in\nverzoeking brengen! Mijn beste vriend,\" vervolgde hij, \"uwe aanbieding\nis zoo opregt, zoo goedhartig, zoo belangeloos, en zoo mijn voordeel\nbeoogende; dat ik slechts weinig wereldkennis zou bezitten als ik er mij\nniet zeer over verwonderde, en de verpligting niet erkende, die ik\ndaarvoor jegens u heb. Maar geloofde gij aan mijne opregtheid, in\nhetgeen ik zoo dikwijls u gezegd heb, dat ik de wereld verachtte?\nGeloofde gij, dat ik uit grond van mijn hart sprak, en dat ik hier\nwerkelijk dien graad van geluk bereikt had, die mij verheft boven alles\nwat de wereld mij kon verschaffen of voor mij kon doen? Geloofde gij dat\nik opregt was, toen ik u zeide dat ik niet zou willen terugkeeren, al\nzou ik teruggeroepen worden om alles te worden wat ik eenmaal was aan\nhet hof en in het bezit van de gunst van mijn meester, den czaar?\nGelooft gij, mijn vriend, dat ik een eerlijk man ben, of houdt gij mij\nvoor een snoevenden huichelaar?\" Hier zweeg hij stil, alsof hij op mijn\nantwoord wachtte, maar ik bespeurde spoedig dat hij eigenlijk ophield,\nomdat zijn gemoed geschokt en heen en weder geslingerd werd, en dat hij\nniet spreken kon. Ik beken dat ik verbaasd stond, zoo wel over hetgeen\nik hoorde, als over den man zelven. Ik voerde eenige redenen aan, om hem\nover te halen de vrijheid te kiezen; dat hij beschouwen moest, dat door\nden Hemel eene deur ter zijner bevrijding werd opengesteld, en dat het\neen wenk was van de Voorzienigheid, die alle dingen bestiert, om\nzichzelven wel te doen, en nuttig voor anderen te worden.\nHij had thans zijne bedaardheid herkregen. \"Hoe weet gij, mijnheer,\"\nzeide hij, \"dat dit in plaats van een wenk des Hemels, geen aanloksel is\nvan een anderen kant, dat mij in de verleidelijkste kleuren het geluk\neener bevrijding voorspiegelt, terwijl het inderdaad een valstrik kan\nzijn; waardoor ik mijn eigen verderf te gemoet ga? Ik ben hier bevrijd\nvan alle verzoeking, om mijne voormalige rampzalige grootheid weder te\nbereiken; ginds ben ik niet verzekerd of al de zaden van hoogmoed,\neer- en hebzucht en weelde, die ik weet dat nog in mijn aard liggen, niet\nzullen herleven en wortel schieten, en met een woord, zich weder meester\nvan mij maken; en dan zal de gelukkige gevangene, dien gij thans als\nmeester van zichzelven ziet, de rampzalige slaaf zijner hartstogten\nzijn, bij het genot van alle mogelijke persoonlijke vrijheid. Waarde\nvriend, laat mij in deze gelukkige hechtenis, verbannen van de misdaden\ndes levens, liever dan een zweem van vrijheid te koopen, ten koste van\nde vrijheid mijner rede, en van mijn toekomstig heil, dat ik thans te\ngemoet zie; maar dat ik alsdan, vrees ik, spoedig uit het oog zou\nverliezen, want ik ben slechts een mensch, heb vleesch en bloed, driften\nen hartstogten, die mij zoo waarschijnlijk als een ander zullen\novermeesteren en wegslepen. O, wees niet mijn vriend en tegelijk mijn\nverleider!\"\nStond ik vroeger verbaasd, thans was ik geheel tot zwijgen gebragt, en\nstond hem aan te staren en te bewonderen. De tweestrijd, waarin ik hem\ngebragt had, was zoo groot, dat, ofschoon het geweldig koud was, het\nzweet hem uitgebroken was, en daar ik zag dat hij zijn gemoed wilde\nontlasten, zeide ik met een paar woorden, dat hij er nog eens over moest\nnadenken en ik hem weder zou opzoeken, en begaf mij daarop naar mijne\nkamer.\nEen paar uren daarna hoorde ik iemand aan of bij mijne kamerdeur, en ik\nstond op om die te openen, toen de prins dit zelf deed en binnen kwam.\n\"Mijn waarde vriend,\" zeide hij, \"gij zoudt mij bijkans overgehaald\nhebben, doch thans ben ik weder tot mijzelven gekomen. Duid het mij niet\nten kwade, dat ik uw aanbod niet aanneem. Ik verzeker u, het is niet\nomdat ik niet gevoel hoe vriendschappelijk het van u is, en ik kwam er u\nmijne hartelijke dankbaarheid voor betuigen; maar ik hoop thans\nmijzelven overwonnen te hebben.\"\n\"Prins,\" zeide ik, \"ik hoop dat gij ten volle overtuigd zijt, dat gij u\nniet tegen eenen wenk der Voorzienigheid verzet.\"--\"Ware het eene stem\ndes Hemels geweest,\" zeide hij, \"dan zou diezelfde magt mij aangedreven\nhebben het voorstel aan te nemen; maar ik acht mij ten volle overtuigd\ndat het 's Hemels wil is dat ik het afwijs, en als wij scheiden zal het\nmij eene streelende gedachte zijn, dat gij mij achterlaat als een braaf\nman, schoon dan ook een gevangen man.\"\nMij schoot niets over dan hierin te berusten, en hem te verzekeren, dat\nmijne eenigste bedoeling geweest was hem van dienst te zijn. Hij\nomhelsde mij met vuur en verzekerde mij dat hij hiervan overtuigd was,\nen altijd dit zou erkennen; en daarbij bood hij mij een fraai geschenk\nvan sabelvellen; inderdaad voor mij te groot om aan te nemen, van iemand\nin zijne omstandigheden; en ik wilde het ontwijken, maar hij liet het\nzich niet afslaan.\nDen volgenden morgen zond ik mijn knecht naar hem toe, met een klein\ngeschenk van thee, twee stukken Chinesche lijnwaad, en vier stukjes\nJapansch goud, die te zamen nog geen zes oncen wogen; hetwelk echter\nniet haalde bij de waarde der sabelvellen, die ik bij mijne komst in\nEngeland vernam dat omtrent twee honderd Pond St. waard waren. Hij nam\nde thee en een stuk lijnwaad aan, en een van de Japansche goudstukjes,\ndaar een fraaije stempel opstond, hetwelk ik begreep, dat hij om de\nzeldzaamheid aannam; doch meer wilde hij niet aannemen, en hij liet mij\ndoor mijn knecht zeggen, dat hij mij gaarne wilde spreken.\nToen ik bij hem kwam zeide hij, dat ik nog wel weten zou wat er tusschen\nons voorgevallen was, en hij hoopte, dat ik daarover niet meer bij hem\naandringen zou. Maar dewijl ik hem zulk een edelmoedig aanbod gedaan\nhad, vroeg hij mij of ik zoo welwillend zou zijn om hetzelfde voor een\nander persoon te doen, dien hij mij noemen zou, en waarin hij zeer veel\nbelang stelde. Ik antwoordde, dat ik weinig lust had het voor iemand\nanders dan voor hem te doen, wien ik bijzonder hoogschatte, en dien ik\ngaarne had willen bevrijden. Zoo hij mij echter den persoon noemen\nwilde, zou ik hem bepaald antwoorden, in de hoop dat hij, zoo mijn\nantwoord hem niet beviel, mij dit niet euvel zou duiden. Hij zeide mij,\ndat hij het voor zijn zoon vroeg, die, ofschoon ik hem niet gezien had,\nin dezelfde omstandigheden als hij verkeerde, en ongeveer tweehonderd\n(Eng.) mijlen vandaar aan de overzijde der Oby was, maar dat hij, als ik\ntoestemde, om hem zenden zou.\nZonder te aarzelen zeide ik hem dat ik het doen zou. Ik gaf hem echter\ndaarbij te kennen, dat het alleen om zijnentwil was, en dat, aangezien\nik hem niet kon overhalen, ik hem een bewijs mijner achting wilde geven\ndoor mijn gedrag jegens zijn zoon, doch het zou vervelend zijn dit alles\nhier te herhalen. Hij zond den volgenden dag om zijn zoon, en twintig\ndagen later keerde deze met den bode terug, medebrengende zes of zeven\npaarden met zeer kostbare pelterijen beladen, die te zamen van groote\nwaarde waren.\nZijne knechts bragten de paarden in de stad, maar lieten den jongen\nprins op een afstand achter, tot in den nacht, toen hij heimelijk bij\nons kwam, en zijn vader hem aan mij voorstelde, en hier overlegden wij\nhoe wij reizen zouden, en welken weg wij zouden kiezen.\nIk had eene groote menigte sabelvellen, zwarte vossenvellen, fijn\nhermelijn en ander kostbaar bont gekocht, of liever geruild voor andere\ngoederen, die ik uit China medegebragt had, vooral voor de nagelen en\nnootmuskaten, die ik meerendeels hier en het overschot in Archangel\nverkocht, voor een veel hooger prijs dan zij te Londen hadden kunnen\ngelden; en mijn compagnon, die de winst berekende, en wiens bestemming\nveel meer dan de mijne het drijven van koophandel was, was magtig in\nzijn schik met ons vertoeven hier, uithoofde van onzen hier gedreven\nhandel.\nIn het begin van Junij verliet ik deze afgelegene plaats; eene stad,\nwaarvan men, geloof ik, in de wereld weinig spreekt, en geen wonder daar\nzij zoo ver buiten alle gewone handelswegen ligt. Wij waren thans tot\neene zeer kleine karavaan gesmolten, bestaande in het geheel slechts uit\ntwee\u00ebndertig paarden en kameelen, die allen voor de mijnen doorgingen,\nschoon er vier aan mijn nieuwen gast toebehoorden. Het was dus zeer\nnatuurlijk, dat ik meer knechts medenam dan vroeger; en de jonge prins\nging voor mijn opzigter of intendant door. Voor welk groot heer ik zelf\ngehouden werd, weet ik niet, ook lustte het mij niet er naar te vragen.\nWij moesten hier de ergste en grootste woestijn doortrekken, die wij op\nde geheele aarde aantroffen; ik noem haar de ergste, omdat de weg er op\nvele plaatsen zeer gevaarlijk en ongelijk was; het best dat wij er van\nkonden zeggen, was, dat wij geen troepen Tartaren en roovers te duchten\nhadden, omdat die nimmer, of althans hoogstzelden aan deze zijde van de\nrivier Oby komen; doch wij ondervonden het anders.\nDe jonge prins had bij zich een trouwen Russischen knecht, of eigenlijk\neen Siberi\u00ebr van geboorte, die het land volkomen kende, en ons langs\nzijwegen voerde, zoodat wij de voornaamste steden en dorpen aan den\ngrooten weg vermeden; omdat de Russische bezettingen, die daar liggen,\nzeer nieuwsgierig, en gestreng in hun onderzoek van reizigers zijn, en\nvooral nasporen of ook eenige ballingen op die wijze trachten te\nontkomen. Wij waren dikwijls verpligt in het open veld te liggen, en\ndaar onder onze tenten den nacht door te brengen, terwijl wij in de\nsteden aan den weg zeer goed ons gemak hadden kunnen nemen; hierdoor\nliep onze geheele reisweg als het ware door eene woestijn. Den jongen\nprins hinderde dit zoo, dat hij aan verscheidene steden gekomen, niet\nwilde dat wij in het open veld bleven, maar zelf met zijn knecht den\nnacht in de bosschen doorbragt, en ons den volgenden dag op eene\nafgesprokene plaats opwachtte.\nWij hadden juist Europa betreden, na de rivier Kama overgetrokken te\nzijn, die aldaar de grensscheiding tusschen Europa en Azi\u00eb uitmaakt, en\nde eerste stad aan de Europesche zijde heette Soloi-Kamaskoi, dat zoo\nveel zeggen wil als de groote stad op den oever van de Kama; en hier\nverwachtten wij eene merkbare verandering te zullen bespeuren in de\nbewoners, hunne zeden, gewoonten, godsdienst en bedrijf; maar wij hadden\nmisgerekend. Wij hadden nog eene uitgestrekte woestijn door te trekken,\ndie, naar men ons verhaalde, zevenhonderd (Eng.) mijlen op sommige\nplaatsen lang is, maar niet meer dan tweehonderd mijlen breed, waar wij\nhem doortrokken. Tot dat wij deze achter den rug hadden, vonden wij zeer\nweinig verschil tusschen dit land en Tartarij\u00eb, en het volk meest\nheidenen en weinig beschaafder dan de wilden van Amerika; hunne huizen\nen dorpen vol afgoden, en hunne levenswijze allerbarbaarscht, behalve in\nde steden, gelijk ik zeide, en de dorpen en derzelver nabijheid, die\ndoor Christenen van de Grieksche godsdienst bewoond worden; maar ook de\ngodsdienst van deze is zoo met bijgeloof doormengd, dat die op sommige\nplaatsen niet van afgoderij te onderscheiden was.\nIn het doortrekken van deze woestijn, nadat wij alle gevaren zoo wij\nmeenden, reeds achter den rug hadden, dacht ik dat wij nog\nuitgeplunderd en misschien vermoord zouden worden door eene troep\nroovers. Ik weet nog niet uit welk land zij waren; hetzij het\nzwerfbenden waren van de Ostiaken, eene soort van Tartaren, of woest\nvolk van de boorden van de Oby, die tot hier heen gezworven waren, dan\nwel of het Siberische sabeljagers waren; maar zij waren allen te paard,\ndroegen boog en pijlen, en waren eerst vijfenveertig in getal; zij\nkwamen tot op ongeveer twee geweerschoten afstands van ons, en zonder\nons eenige vragen te doen, reden zij om ons heen en sloegen ons zeer\nernstig gade. Eindelijk plaatsten zij zich vlak voor ons, waarop wij ons\nin een gelid voor onze kameelen schaarden, daar wij nog geen zestien man\nin het geheel uitmaakten, en zonden den Siberischen knecht naar hen toe\nom te zien wie zij waren. Zijn meester was te meer geneigd hem te laten\ngaan, daar hij zeer beducht was dat het een Siberische troep was, die\nmen hem achterna had gezonden. De man reed naar hen toe met eene witte\nvlag en sprak hen aan; maar schoon hij verscheidene van hunne talen of\nliever tongvallen gebruikte, kon hij geen woord verstaan van hetgeen zij\nzeiden. Na eenige teekens die zij hem deden van niet nader te komen als\nhij zijn leven lief had, en een aanbod om hem dood te schieten als hij\nnaderde, ten minste zoo verstond hij hunne bedoeling, kwam de man terug,\neven wijs als toen hij ging; echter zeide hij dat hij hen, naar hunne\nkleeding, voor Tartaren of Kalmukken, of voor eene horde Circassi\u00ebrs\nhield, en dat er in de groote woestijn meer van hen moesten zijn, schoon\nhij nimmer gehoord had, dat er vroeger ooit eenige zoo ver noordwaarts\nwaren doorgedrongen.\nDit was eene slechte troost voor ons. Er viel echter niet aan te doen.\nAan de linkerzijde, op ongeveer een vierde uurs was een groepje boomen,\ndie digt bijeen en vlak bij den weg stonden. Ik besloot dadelijk ons\ndaarheen te begeven en ons, zoo goed wij konden, te verschansen; want ik\nbegreep dat vooreerst deze boomen ons grootendeels voor hunne pijlen\nzouden beschutten, en in de tweede plaats, dat zij ons dan niet in massa\nop het lijf konden vallen. Eigenlijk was het mijn oude Portugeesche\nloods die het voorstelde, en die deze uitmuntende eigenschap had, dat\nhij altijd in de oogenblikken van het grootste gevaar het geschiktste\nwas om ons te leiden en aan te moedigen. Wij trokken met den meest\nmogelijken spoed daarheen en bereikten dat boschje, terwijl de Tartaren\nof dieven, wat zij dan ook waren, stand hielden, en ons geen hindernis\nin den weg legden. Daar gekomen, bevonden wij tot onze groote vreugd,\ndat het eene vochtige, moerassige plek gronds was, met aan de eene zijde\neene groote bron, die in een klein beekje uitliep, dat een eind weegs\nnader zich met een ander van gelijke grootte vereenigde, en dat\neigenlijk de oorsprong of bron van eene groote rivier was, die hooger op\nde Wertska heette. Er stonden om die bron niet boven de tweehonderd\nboomen, maar zij waren zeer groot en stonden digt opeen; zoodat, zoodra\nwij daar waren, wij ons volkomen voor den vijand beschut zagen, ten ware\nzij afstegen en ons te voet aanvielen.\nOm dit echter moeijelijk te maken, kapte onze Portugees met onvermoeiden\nijver takken van de boomen, en liet die hangen en niet geheel van den\nstam gescheiden, van den eenen boom naar den anderen; zoodat hij eene\nonafgebroken verschansing om ons heen vormde.\nWij bleven hier eenige uren de bewegingen des vijands gadeslaan, die\nechter geen lust tot eenige beweging scheen te hebben. Een paar uren\nvoor den avond kwamen zij echter op ons aanrukken, en schoon wij het\nniet bemerkt hadden, zagen wij nu dat er zich nog eenigen bij hen\ngevoegd hadden, zoodat er thans tachtig ruiters waren, waaronder echter,\nnaar onze meening, eenige vrouwen. Wij lieten hen tot op een half\ngeweerschot afstands van onze legerplaats komen, waarna wij met los\nkruid op hen schoten, en hen in het Russisch toeriepen wat zij van ons\nhebben wilden, en hen gelastten zich te verwijderen. Daar zij ons echter\nniet verstonden, drongen zij met verdubbelde woede op ons boschje aan,\nzich verbeeldende, dat wij niet zoo verschanst waren of zij zouden er\nwel kunnen doorbreken. Onze oude loods was onze bevelhebber, gelijk hij\nvroeger onze ingenieur geweest was, en gelastte ons niet te vuren, voor\nzij op een pistoolschot afstands gekomen waren; en alsdan vooral goed op\nhen te mikken. Wij zeiden, dat wij op zijn bevel zouden wachten,\nwaarmede hij zoo lang draalde tot sommigen nog slechts eenige schreden\nvan ons af waren.\nWij mikten zoo goed, of de hemel bestierde ons vuur zoo, dat wij bij de\neerste losbranding er veertien doodden, en nog verscheidenen benevens\neenige paarden kwetsten, want wij hadden allen onze geweren met ten\nminste twee of drie kogels geladen.\nDit bragt hen geheel in verwarring, en zij trokken dadelijk wel honderd\nroeden terug, in welken tijd wij onze geweren weder laadden, en ziende,\ndat zij op dien afstand bleven, deden wij een uitval, en vermeesterden\nvier of vijf paarden, wier ruiters waarschijnlijk gedood waren. Bij de\ngesneuvelden komende, zagen wij duidelijk dat het Tartaren waren, schoon\nwij niet wisten uit welke streek, noch hoe het kwam dat zij een zoo\nbuitengewoon verren togt hadden ondernomen.\nEen dag daarna maakten zij eene beweging om ons op nieuw aan te vallen,\nen reden ons boschje rond om te zien of zij ook ergens konden\ndoorbreken; maar ons steeds gereed vindende hun het hoofd te bieden,\nverlieten zij ons weder, en wij besloten dien nacht niet van de plaats\nte gaan.\nWij sliepen weinig, gelijk men wel denken kan, maar bragten het\nmeerendeel van den nacht door met ons leger te versterken, en de\ntoegangen te verschansen, en eene scherpe wacht te houden, in\nafwachting, dat het zou beginnen te dagen. Toen de dag doorkwam bragt\nhij ons eene onaangename ontdekking; want de vijand, dien wij gehoopt\nhadden dat door de geledene ontvangst afgeschrikt zou zijn geworden, was\nthans tot op zijn minst driehonderd aangegroeid, en had elf of twaalf\nhutten of tenten opgeslagen, alsof hij besloten had ons te belegeren.\nZij hadden hun kamp opgeslagen op eene opene vlakte, ongeveer drie\nkwartieruurs van ons verwijderd.\nDeze ontdekking was eene onaangename verrassing voor ons; en hier moet\nik bekennen, achtte ik mij verloren en al wat ik had. Het verlies mijner\ngoederen ging mij zoo veel niet aan het hart (schoon zij van veel waarde\nwaren), als wel de gedachte van in de handen van zulke barbaren te\nmoeten vallen, op het laatst van mijne reis, na het doorstaan van zoo\nvele gevaren en moeijelijkheden, en als het ware in het gezigt van de\nhaven, waar wij veiligheid en behoud verwachtten. Mijn compagnon was\nwoedend; hij zeide, dat het verlies zijner goederen hem in den grond zou\nboren, en dat hij liever wilde sterven dan tot den bedelstaf geraken, en\nhij wilde vechten tot den laatsten droppel bloed.\nDe jonge prins, een man zoo dapper als iemand, stemde ook voor het\ngevecht, en mijn oude loods was van meening, dat wij in onze stelling\nhen allen konden weerstaan. Wij bragten zoo den dag door in\nberaadslagingen wat wij doen wilden, doch tegen den avond bespeurden wij\ndat het getal onzer vijanden nog vermeerderd was. Misschien hadden zij\nin verschillende afdeelingen rond gezworven om buit op te sporen, en\nhadden de eerste verspieders uitgezonden om hen te hulp te roepen, en\nmet den buit bekend te maken. Wij wisten niet of niet hun getal den\nvolgenden morgen nog meer aangegroeid zou zijn, en dus vroeg ik aan de\nlieden, die wij van Tobolsk hadden medegenomen, of er geene andere,\ngeene zijwegen waren, waardoor wij misschien een of ander dorp of stad\nkonden bereiken, of wel het einde der woestijn.\nDe Siberische knecht van den jongen prins zeide ons, dat als wij hen\nwilden uit den weg gaan en niet bevechten, hij zich sterk maakte ons in\nden nacht op een weg te brengen, die noordwaarts liep, naar de rivier\nPetras, waardoor hij zich verzekerd hield, dat wij den aftogt zouden\nkunnen blazen, zonder dat de Tartaren wisten waar wij zouden gebleven\nzijn, maar hij zeide, dat zijn heer hem gezegd had niet te willen\nvlugten, maar liever te vechten. Ik zeide, dat hij zijn heer niet goed\nbegrepen had, dat deze te verstandig was om gaarne te vechten zonder\neenig doel; dat zijn heer reeds blijken genoeg had gegeven, dat hij\nonversaagd was, maar dat zijn heer zelf wel wist, dat zeventien of\nachttien man niet tegen vijfhonderd konden vechten, ten ware eene\nonvermijdelijke noodzakelijkheid hen er toe dwong, en dat als hij het\nmogelijk achtte in den nacht te ontkomen, wij dit volstrekt moesten\nbeproeven. Hij antwoordde, dat als zijn heer hem dit gebood, hij zijn\nleven te pand zette dat hij het doen zou. Wij haalden weldra zijn heer\nover, doch in het geheim, om hem dit bevel te geven, en maakten ons\ndadelijk gereed om het uit te voeren.\nIn de eerste plaats legden wij, zoodra het duister werd, een vuur aan in\nonze legerplaats, en maakten het zoo, dat het den geheelen nacht zou\nkunnen doorbranden, opdat de Tartaren mogten begrijpen dat wij er nog\nwaren; maar zoodra het duister werd, dat wil zeggen, zoodra wij de\nsterren konden zien (want eer wilde onze gids niet op weg gaan) volgden\nwij onzen nieuwen geleider, daar wij de paarden en kameelen reeds\nvooraf beladen hadden. Ik zag weldra, dat hij zijn weg naar de poolster\nrigtte, daar het land een groot eind geheel effen was.\nNa twee uren zeer snel voortgetrokken te zijn, begon het nog lichter te\nworden; want ofschoon de nacht reeds helder was geweest, kwam nu de maan\nop, zoodat het eigenlijk lichter was dan wij verlangden; doch den\nvolgenden morgen te zes ure hadden wij bijkans veertig (Eng.) mijlen\nafgelegd; waarmede wij onze paarden dan ook schier dood gereden hadden.\nHier vonden wij een Russisch dorp, Kirmazinskoi genaamd, waar wij rust\nhielden en dien dag niets van de Kalmuksche Tartaren vernamen. Twee uren\nvoor den avond trokken wij weder op weg en reisden tot den volgenden\nmorgen te acht ure, schoon niet zoo haastig als vroeger; en tegen zeven\nure trokken wij een riviertje over, genaamd Kirtza, en kwamen aan eene\ngoede, groote en zeer bevolkte stad, door Russen bewoond, genaamd\nOzomoys. Hier hoorden wij, dat er in de woestijn verscheidene troepen of\nhorden Kalmukken rondzwierven, maar dat wij thans buiten alle gevaar\nvoor hen waren, hetgeen, gelijk men denken kan, zeer naar ons genoegen\nwas. Hier waren wij verpligt andere paarden aan te schaffen, en daar wij\nrust hoog noodig hadden, bleven wij hier vijf dagen; en mijn compagnon\nen ik besloten den eerlijken Siberi\u00ebr, die ons hierheen geleid had, de\nwaarde van tien pistolen te geven voor zijn geleide.\nBinnen vijf dagen kwamen wij te Venessima aan de rivier Witzogda, die in\nde Dwina uitloopt, en dus gelukkig nabij het einde van onze reis te\nland, daar die rivier tot Archangel bevaarbaar is. Vandaar kwamen wij\nden derden nabij de Lawrenskoi, waar deze rivieren zich vereenigen, en\nnamen daar twee vrachtscheepjes en eene bark voor ons aan. Wij gingen\nden zevenden scheep en kwamen behouden te Archangel den achttienden, na\neen jaar, vijf maanden en drie dagen op reis te zijn geweest, daaronder\nbegrepen ons verblijf van acht maanden te Tobolsk.\nWij waren verpligt hier zes weken op de aankomst van schepen te\nwachten, en zouden nog langer hebben moeten wachten, zoo niet een\nHamburger eene maand vroeger dan eenig Engelsen schip binnengekomen was;\nna overwogen te hebben, dat Hamburg misschien eene even goede markt voor\nonze goederen als Londen zou opleveren, bevrachtten wij alleen hem, en\nna onze goederen aan boord gebragt te hebben, was het zeer natuurlijk,\ndat ik er mijn opzigter liet blijven om er het oog op te houden.\nHierdoor had de jonge prins eene voldoende gelegenheid om zich verborgen\nte houden, terwijl hij zoo lang wij hier bleven niet aan wal kwam, daar\nhij vreesde in de stad gezien te worden door eenige kooplieden van\nMoscou, die hem zeker herkend zoude hebben.\nWij zeilden van Archangel den 2den Augustus, en liepen zonder eenig\nmerkwaardig wedervaren den 13den September de Elbe op. Hier vonden mijn\ncompagnon zoo wel als ik, eene zeer goede gelegenheid om onze goederen\nte verkoopen, zoowel die uit China als de pelterijen van Siberi\u00eb, en na\nhet bedrag van den verkoop gedeeld te hebben, beliep mijn aandeel\ndrieduizend vierhonderd vijfenzeventig pond Sterling, zeventien\nschellingen, niettegenstaande de vele verliezen die wij geleden, en\nonkosten die wij hadden gemaakt. Ik moet echter aanmerken, dat hieronder\nbegrepen was de waarde van ongeveer zeshonderd Pond St. aan diamanten,\ndie ik te Bengalen gekocht had.\nHier nam de jonge prins afscheid van ons, en ging de Elbe op, om zich\nnaar het hof van Weenen te begeven, waar hij besloot bescherming te\nzoeken, en vanwaar hij briefwisseling kon houden met de vrienden zijns\nvaders, die nog leefden. Hij scheidde niet van mij, zonder herhaalde\nbetuigingen van zijne dankbaarheid voor de hem bewezen dienst, en voor\nde genegenheid, die ik zijn vader toedroeg.\nTen besluite. Nadat ik bijkans vier maanden in Hamburg vertoefd had,\nreisde ik vandaar te land naar den Haag, en stak vervolgens met de\npakketboot over naar Engeland, en kwam te Londen den 10 Januarij 1705,\nna tien jaren en negen maanden van Engeland afwezig te zijn geweest.\nEn hier heb ik besloten mij niet meer af te slooven; maar mij voor te\nbereiden voor een langduriger reize dan deze allen; daar ik thans\ntwee\u00ebnzeventig jaren oud ben geworden, in een leven vol eindelooze\nafwisseling, en thans voldoende de waarde van rust heb leeren waarderen,\nen den zegen van zijne dagen in vrede te besluiten.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Het leven en de lotgevallen van Robinson Crusoe, t. 2\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Lance Purple and Andrew Sly.\nThe Consolidator: or,\nMemoirs of Sundry Transactions\nFrom the World in the Moon.\nTranslated from the Lunar Language,\nBy the Author of The True-born English Man.\nIt cannot be unknown to any that have travell'd into the Dominions of\nthe Czar of Muscovy, that this famous rising Monarch, having studied\nall Methods for the Encrease of his Power, and the Enriching as well\nas Polishing his Subjects, has travell'd through most part of Europe,\nand visited the Courts of the greatest Princes; from whence, by his\nown Observation, as well as by carrying with him Artists in most\nuseful Knowledge, he has transmitted most of our General Practice,\nespecially in War and Trade, to his own Unpolite People; and the\nEffects of this Curiosity of his are exceeding visible in his present\nProceedings; for by the Improvements he obtained in his European\nTravels, he has Modell'd his Armies, form'd new Fleets, settled\nForeign Negoce in several remote Parts of the World; and we now see\nhis Forces besieging strong Towns, with regular Approaches; and his\nEngineers raising Batteries, throwing Bombs, &c. like other Nations;\nwhereas before, they had nothing of Order among them, but carried all\nby Ouslaught and Scalado, wherein they either prevailed by the Force\nof Irresistible Multitude, or were Slaughter'd by heaps, and left the\nDitches of their Enemies fill'd with their Dead Bodies.\nWe see their Armies now form'd into regular Battalions; and their\nStrelitz Musqueteers, a People equivalent to the Turks Janizaries,\ncloath'd like our Guards, firing in Platoons, and behaving themselves\nwith extraordinary Bravery and Order.\nWe see their Ships now compleatly fitted, built and furnish'd, by\nthe English and Dutch Artists, and their Men of War Cruize in the\nBaltick. Their New City of Petersburgh built by the present Czar,\nbegins now to look like our Portsmouth, fitted with Wet and Dry\nDocks, Storehouses, and Magazines of Naval Preparations, vast and\nIncredible; which may serve to remind us, how we once taught the\nFrench to build Ships, till they are grown able to teach us how to\nuse them.\nAs to Trade, our large Fleets to Arch-Angel may speak for it, where\nwe now send 100 Sail yearly, instead of 8 or 9, which were the\ngreatest number we ever sent before; and the Importation of Tobaccoes\nfrom England into his Dominions, would still increase the Trade\nthither, was not the Covetousness of our own Merchants the\nObstruction of their Advantages. But all this by the by.\nAs this great Monarch has Improved his Country, by introducing the\nManners and Customs of the Politer Nations of Europe; so, with\nIndefatigable Industry, he has settled a new, but constant Trade,\nbetween his Country and China, by Land; where his Carravans go twice\nor thrice a Year, as Numerous almost, and as strong, as those from\nEgypt to Persia: Nor is the Way shorter, or the Desarts they pass\nover less wild and uninhabitable, only that they are not so subject\nto Flouds of Sand, if that Term be proper, or to Troops of Arabs,\nto destroy them by the way; for this powerful Prince, to make this\nterrible Journey feazible to his Subjects, has built Forts, planted\nCollonies and Garisons at proper Distances; where, though they are\nseated in Countries intirely Barren, and among uninhabited Rocks and\nSands; yet, by his continual furnishing them from his own Stores, the\nMerchants travelling are reliev'd on good Terms, and meet both with\nConvoy and Refreshment.\nMore might be said of the admirable Decorations of this Journey, and\nhow so prodigious an Attempt is made easy; so that now they have an\nexact Correspondence, and drive a prodigious Trade between Muscow and\nTonquin; but having a longer Voyage in Hand, I shall not detain the\nReader, nor keep him till he grows too big with Expectation.\nNow, as all Men know the Chineses are an Ancient, Wise, Polite, and\nmost Ingenious People; so the Muscovites begun to reap the Benefit of\nthis open Trade; and not only to grow exceeding Rich by the bartering\nfor all the Wealth of those Eastern Countries; but to polish and\nrefine their Customs and Manners, as much on that side as they have\nfrom their European Improvements on this.\nAnd as the Chineses have many sorts of Learning which these Parts of\nthe World never heard of, so all those useful Inventions which we\nadmire ourselves so much for, are vulgar and common with them, and\nwere in use long before our Parts of the World were Inhabited. Thus\nGun-powder, Printing, and the use of the Magnet and Compass, which we\ncall Modern Inventions, are not only far from being Inventions, but\nfall so far short of the Perfection of Art they have attained to,\nthat it is hardly Credible, what wonderful things we are told of\nfrom thence, and all the Voyages the Author has made thither being\nimploy'd another way, have not yet furnish'd him with the Particulars\nfully enough to transmit them to view; not but that he is preparing a\nScheme of all those excellent Arts those Nations are Masters of, for\npublick View, by way of Detection of the monstrous Ignorance and\nDeficiencies of European Science; which may serve as a Lexicon\nTechnicum for this present Age, with useful Diagrams for that\npurpose; wherein I shall not fail to acqaint the World, 1. With the\nArt of Gunnery, as Practis'd in China long before the War of the\nGiants, and by which those Presumptuous Animals fired Red-hot Bullets\nright up into Heaven, and made a Breach sufficient to encourage them\nto a General Storm; but being Repulsed with great Slaughter, they\ngave over the Siege for that time. This memorable part of History\nshall be a faithful Abridgement of Ibra chizra-le-peglizar,\nHistoriagrapher-Royal to the Emperor of China, who wrote Anno Mundi\n114. his Volumes extant, in the Publick Library at Tonquin, Printed\nin Leaves of Vitrify'd Diamond, by an admirable Dexterity, struck all\nat an oblique Motion, the Engine remaining intire, and still fit for\nuse, in the Chamber of the Emperor's Rarities.\nAnd here I shall give you a Draft of the Engine it self, and a Plan\nof its Operation, and the wonderful Dexterity of its Performance.\nIf these Labours of mine shall prove successful, I may in my next\nJourney that way, take an Abstract of their most admirable Tracts\nin Navigation, and the Mysteries of Chinese Mathematicks; which\nout-do all Modern Invention at that Rate, that 'tis Inconceivable:\nIn this Elaborate Work I must run thro' the 365 Volumes of\nAugro-machi-lanquaro-zi, the most ancient Mathematician in all China:\nFrom thence I shall give a Description of a Fleet of Ships of 100000\nSail, built at the Expence of the Emperor Tangro the 15th; who having\nNotice of the General Deluge, prepar'd these Vessels, to every City\nand Town in his Dominions One, and in Bulk proportion'd to the number\nof its Inhabitants; into which Vessel all the People, with such\nMoveables as they thought fit to save, and with 120 Days Provisions,\nwere receiv'd at the time of the Floud; and the rest of their Goods\nbeing put into great Vessels made of China Ware, and fast luted down\non the top, were preserv'd unhurt by the Water: These Ships they\nfurnish'd with 600 Fathom of Chain instead of Cables; which being\nfastned by wonderful Arts to the Earth, every Vessel rid out the\nDeluge just at the Town's end; so that when the Waters abated,\nthe People had nothing to do, but to open the Doors made in the\nShip-sides, and come out, repair their Houses, open the great China\nPots their Goods were in, and so put themselves in Statu Quo.\nThe Draft of one of these Ships I may perhaps obtain by my Interest\nin the present Emperor's Court, as it has been preserv'd ever since,\nand constantly repair'd, riding at Anchor in a great Lake, about\n100 Miles from Tonquin; in which all the People of that City were\npreferv'd, amounting by their Computation to about a Million and half.\nAnd as these things must be very useful in these Parts, to abate the\nPride and Arrogance of our Modern Undertakers of great Enterprizes,\nAuthors of strange Foreign Accounts, Philosophical Transactions, and\nthe like; if Time and Opportunity permit, I may let them know, how\nInfinitely we are out-done by those refined Nations, in all manner of\nMechanick Improvements and Arts; and in discoursing of this, it will\nnecessarily come in my way to speak of a most Noble Invention, being\nan Engine I would recommend to all People to whom 'tis necessary to\nhave a good Memory; and which I design, if possible, to obtain a\nDraft of, that it may be Erected in our Royal Societies Laboratory:\nIt has the wonderfullest Operations in the World: One part of it\nfurnishes a Man of Business to dispatch his Affairs strangely; for if\nhe be a Merchant, he shall write his Letters with one Hand, and Copy\nthem with the other; if he is posting his Books, he shall post the\nDebtor side with one Hand, and the Creditor with the other; if he be\na Lawyer, he draws his Drafts with one Hand, and Ingrosses them with\nthe other.\nAnother part of it furnishes him with such an Expeditious way of\nWriting, or Transcribing, that a Man cannot speak so fast, but he\nthat hears shall have it down in Writing before 'tis spoken; and a\nPreacher shall deliver himself to his Auditory, and having this\nEngine before him, shall put down every thing he says in Writing at\nthe same time; and so exactly is this Engine squar'd by Lines and\nRules, that it does not require him that Writes to keep his Eye\nupon it.\nI am told, in some Parts of China, they had arriv'd to such a\nPerfection of Knowledge, as to understand one anothers Thoughts; and\nthat it was found to be an excellent Preservative to humane Society,\nagainst all sorts of Frauds, Cheats, Sharping, and many Thousand\nEuropean Inventions of that Nature, at which only we can be said\nto out-do those Nations.\nI confess, I have not yet had leisure to travel those Parts, having\nbeen diverted by an accidental Opportunity of a new Voyage I had\noccasion to make for farther Discoveries, and which the Pleasure and\nUsefulness thereof having been very great, I have omitted the other\nfor the present, but shall not fail to make a Visit to those Parts\nthe first Opportunity, and shall give my Country-men the best Account\nI can of those things; for I doubt not in Time to bring our Nation,\nso fam'd for improving other People's Discoveries, to be as wise as\nany of those Heathen Nations; I wish I had the same Prospect of\nmaking them half so honest.\nI had spent but a few Months in this Country, but my search after\nthe Prodigy of humane Knowledge the People abounds with, led me into\nAcquaintance with some of their principal Artists, Engineers, and Men\nof Letters; and I was astonish'd at every Day's Discovery of new and\nof unheard-of Worlds of Learning; but I Improv'd in the Superficial\nKnowledge of their General, by no body so much as by my Conversation\nwith the Library-keeper of Tonquin, by whom I had Admission into the\nvast Collection of Books, which the Emperors of that Country have\ntreasur'd up.\nIt would be endless to give you a Catalogue, and they admit of no\nStrangers to write any thing down, but what the Memory can retain,\nyou are welcome to carry away with you; and amongst the wonderful\nVolumes of Antient and Modern Learning, I could not but take Notice\nof a few; which, besides those I mentioned before, I saw, when I\nlookt over this vast Collection; and a larger Account may be given\nin our next.\nIt would be needless to Transcribe the Chinese Character, or to put\ntheir Alphabet into our Letters, because the Words would be both\nUnintelligible, and very hard to Pronounce; and therefore, to avoid\nhard Words, and Hyroglyphicks, I'll translate them as well as I can.\nThe first Class I came to of Books, was the Constitutions of the\nEmpire; these are vast great Volumes, and have a sort of Engine like\nour Magna Charta, to remove 'em, and with placing them in a Frame,\nby turning a Screw, open'd the Leaves, and folded them this way,\nor that, as the Reader desires. It was present Death for the\nLibrary-keeper to refuse the meanest Chinese Subject to come in and\nread them; for 'tis their Maxim, That all People ought to know the\nLaws by which they are to be govern'd; and as above all People, we\nfind no Fools in this Country, so the Emperors, though they seem to\nbe Arbitrary, enjoy the greatest Authority in the World, by always\nobserving, with the greatest Exactness, the Pacta Conventa of their\nGovernment: From these Principles it is impossible we should ever\nhear, either of the Tyranny of Princes, or Rebellion of Subjects,\nin all their Histories.\nAt the Entrance into this Class, you find some Ancient Comments,\nupon the Constitution of the Empire, written many Ages before we\npretend the World began; but above all, One I took particular notice\nof, which might bear this Title, Natural Right prov'd Superior to\nTemporal Power; wherein the old Author proves, the Chinese Emperors\nwere Originally made so, by Nature's directing the People, to place\nthe Power of Government in the most worthy Person they could find;\nand the Author giving a most exact History of 2000 Emperors, brings\nthem into about 35 or 36 Periods of Lines when the Race ended; and\nwhen a Collective Assembly of the Nobles, Cities, and People,\nNominated a new Family to the Goverment.\nThis being an heretical Book as to European Politicks, and our\nLearned Authors having long since exploded this Doctrine, and prov'd\nthat Kings and Emperors came down from Heaven with Crowns on their\nHeads, and all their Subjects were born with Saddles on their Backs;\nI thought fit to leave it where I found it, least our excellent\nTracts of Sir Robert Filmer, Dr. Hammond L...y, S....l, and Others,\nwho have so learnedly treated of the more useful Doctrine of Passive\nObedience, Divine Right, &c. should be blasphem'd by the Mob, grow\ninto Contempt of the People; and they should take upon them to\nquestion their Superiors for the Blood of Algernon Sidney, and Argyle.\nFor I take the Doctrines of Passive Obedience, &c. among the\nStates-men, to be like the Copernican System of the Earths Motion\namong Philosophers; which, though it be contrary to all antient\nKnowledge, and not capable of Demonstration, yet is adher'd to in\ngeneral, because by this they can better solve, and give a more\nrational Account of several dark Phanomena in Nature, than they could\nbefore.\nThus our Modern States-men approve of this Scheme of Government; not\nthat it admits of any rational Defence, much less of Demonstration,\nbut because by this Method they can the better explain, as well as\ndefend, all Coertion in Cases invasive of Natural Right, than they\ncould before.\nHere I found two famous Volumes in Chyrurgery, being an exact\nDescription of the Circulation of the Blood, discovered long before\nKing Solomon's Allegory of the Bucket's going to the Well; with\nseveral curious Methods by which the Demonstration was to be made so\nplain, as would make even the worthy Doctor B------ himself become a\nConvert to his own Eye-sight, make him damn his own Elaborate Book,\nand think it worse Nonsence than ever the Town had the Freedom to\nimagine.\nAll our Philosophers are Fools, and their Transactions a parcel\nof empty Stuff, to the Experiments of the Royal Societies in this\nCountry. Here I came to a Learned Tract of Winds, which outdoes even\nthe Sacred Text, and would make us believe it was not wrote to those\nPeople; for they tell Folks whence it comes, and whither it goes.\nThere you have an Account how to make Glasses of Hogs Eyes, that can\nsee the Wind; and they give strange Accounts both of its regular and\nirregular Motions, its Compositions and Quantities; from whence, by a\nsort of Algebra, they can cast up its Duration, Violence, and Extent:\nIn these Calculations, some say, those Authors have been so exact,\nthat they can, as our Philosophers say of Comets, state their\nRevolutions, and tell us how many Storms there shall happen to any\nPeriod of time, and when; and perhaps this may be with much about the\nsame Truth.\nIt was a certain Sign Aristotle had never been at China; for, had he\nseen the 216th Volume of the Chinese Navigation, in the Library I\nam speaking of, a large Book in Double Folio, wrote by the Famous\nMira-cho-cho-lasmo, Vice-Admiral of China, and said to be printed\nthere about 2000 Years before the Deluge, in the Chapter of Tides he\nwould have seen the Reason of all the certain and uncertain Fluxes\nand Refluxes of that Element, how the exact Pace is kept between the\nMoon and the Tides, with a most elaborate Discourse there, of the\nPower of Sympathy, and the manner how the heavenly Bodies Influence\nthe Earthly: Had he seen this, the Stagyrite would never have Drowned\nhimself, because he could not comprehend this Mystery.\n'Tis farther related of this Famous Author, that he was no Native\nof this World, but was Born in the Moon, and coming hither to make\nDiscoveries, by a strange Invention arrived to by the Virtuosoes of\nthat habitable World, the Emperor of China prevailed with him to stay\nand improve his Subjects, in the most exquisite Accomplishments of\nthose Lunar Regions; and no wonder the Chinese are such exquisite\nArtists, and Masters of such sublime Knowledge, when this Famous\nAuthor has blest them with such unaccountable Methods of Improvement.\nThere was abundance of vast Classes full of the Works of this\nwonderful Philosopher: He gave the how, the modus of all the secret\nOperations of Nature; and told us, how Sensation is convey'd to and\nfrom the Brain; why Respiration preserves Life; and how Locomotion\nis directed to, as well as perform'd by the Parts. There are some\nAnatomical Dissections of Thought, and a Mathematical Description of\nNature's strong Box, the Memory, with all its Locks and Keys.\nThere you have that part of the Head turn'd in-side outward, in which\nNature has placed the Materials of reflecting; and like a Glass\nBee-hive, represents to you all the several Cells in which are lodg'd\nthings past, even back to Infancy and Conception. There you have the\nRepository, with all its Cells, Classically, Annually, Numerically,\nand Alphabetically Dispos'd. There you may see how, when the perplext\nAnimal, on the loss of a Thought or Word, scratches his Pole: Every\nAttack of his Invading Fingers knocks at Nature's Door, allarms all\nthe Register-keepers, and away they run, unlock all the Classes,\nsearch diligently for what he calls for, and immediately deliver\nit up to the Brain; if it cannot be found, they intreat a little\nPatience, till they step into the Revolvary, where they run over\nlittle Catalogues of the minutest Passages of Life, and so in time\nnever fail to hand on the thing; if not just when he calls for it,\nyet at some other time.\nAnd thus, when a thing lyes very Abstruse, and all the rumaging of\nthe whole House cannot find it; nay, when all the People in the House\nhave given it over, they very often find one thing when they are\nlooking for another.\nNext you have the Retentive in the remotest part of the Place, which,\nlike the Records in the Tower, takes Possession of all Matters, as\nthey are removed from the Classes in the Repository, for want of\nroom. These are carefully Lockt, and kept safe, never to be open'd\nbut upon solemn Occasions, and have swinging great Bars and Bolts\nupon them; so that what is kept here, is seldom lost. Here Conscience\nhas one large Ware-house, and the Devil another; the first is very\nseldom open'd, but has a Chink or Till, where all the Follies and\nCrimes of Life being minuted are dropt in; but as the Man seldom\ncares to look in, the Locks are very Rusty, and not open'd but with\ngreat Difficulty, and on extraordinary Occasions, as Sickness,\nAfflictions, Jails, Casualties, and Death; and then the Bars all give\nway at once; and being prest from within with a more than ordinary\nWeight, burst as a Cask of Wine upon the Fret, which for want of\nVent, makes all the Hoops fly.\nAs for the Devil's Ware-house, he has two constant Warehouse-keepers,\nPride and Conceit, and these are always at the Door, showing their\nWares, and exposing the pretended Vertues and Accomplishments of the\nMan, by way of Ostentation.\nIn the middle of this curious part of Nature, there is a clear\nThorough-fare, representing the World, through which so many Thousand\nPeople pass so easily, and do so little worth taking notice of,\nthat 'tis for no manner of Signification to leave Word they have\nbeen here. Thro' this Opening pass Millions of things not worth\nremembring, and which the Register-Keepers, who stand at the Doors of\nthe Classes, as they go by, take no notice of; such as Friendships,\nhelps in Distress, Kindnesses in Affliction, Voluntary Services, and\nall sorts of Importunate Merit; things which being but Trifles in\ntheir own Nature, are made to be forgotten.\nIn another Angle is to be seen the Memory's Garden, in which her most\npleasant things are not only Deposited, but Planted, Transplanted,\nGrafted, Inoculated, and obtain all possible Propagation and\nEncrease; these are the most pleasant, delightful, and agreeable\nthings, call'd Envy, Slander, Revenge, Strife and Malice, with the\nAdditions of Ill-turns, Reproaches, and all manner of Wrong; these\nare caressed in the Cabinet of the Memory, with a World of Pleasure\nnever let pass, and carefully Cultivated with all imaginable Art.\nThere are multitudes of Weeds, Toys, Chat, Story, Fiction, and Lying,\nwhich in the great throng of passant Affairs, stop by the way, and\ncrowding up the Place, leave no room for their Betters that come\nbehind, which makes many a good Guess be put by, and left to go clear\nthro' for want of Entertainment.\nThere are a multitude of things very curious and observable,\nconcerning this little, but very accurate thing, called Memory; but\nabove all, I see nothing so very curious, as the wonderful Art of\nWilful Forgetfulness; and as 'tis a thing, indeed, I never could find\nany Person compleatly Master of, it pleased me very much, to find\nthis Author has made a large Essay, to prove there is really no such\nPower in Nature; and that the Pretenders to it are all Impostors, and\nput a Banter upon the World; for that it is impossible for any Man to\noblige himself to forget a thing, since he that can remember to\nforget, and at the same time forget to remember, has an Art above\nthe Devil.\nIn his Laboratory you see a Fancy preserv'd a la Mummy, several\nThousand Years old; by examining which you may perfectly discern,\nhow Nature makes a Poet: Another you have taken from a meer Natural,\nwhich discovers the Reasons of Nature's Negative in the Case of\nhumane Understanding; what Deprivation of Parts She suffers, in the\nComposition of a Coxcomb; and with what wonderful Art She prepares a\nMan to be a Fool.\nHere being the product of this Author's wonderful Skill, you have the\nSkeleton of a Wit, with all the Readings of Philosophy and Chyrurgery\nupon the Parts: Here you see all the Lines Nature has drawn to form a\nGenius, how it performs, and from what Principles.\nAlso you are Instructed to know the true reason of the Affinity\nbetween Poetry and Poverty; and that it is equally derived from\nwhat's Natural and Intrinsick, as from Accident and Circumstance; how\nthe World being always full of Fools and Knaves, Wit is sure to miss\nof a good Market; especially, if Wit and Truth happen to come in\nCompany; for the Fools don't understand it, and the Knaves can't bear\nit.\nBut still 'tis own'd, and is most apparent, there is something also\nNatural in the Case too, since there are some particular Vessels\nNature thinks necessary, to the more exact Composition of this nice\nthing call'd a Wit, which as they are, or are not Interrupted in the\npeculiar Offices for which they are appointed, are subject to various\nDistempers, and more particularly to Effluxions and Vapour, Diliriums\nGiddiness of the Brain, and Lapsa, or Looseness of the Tongue; and as\nthese Distempers, occasion'd by the exceeding quantity of Volatiles,\nNature is obliged to make use of in the Composition, are hardly to\nbe avoided, the Disasters which generally they push the Animal into,\nare as necessarily consequent to them as Night is to the Setting of\nthe Sun; and these are very many, as disobliging Parents, who have\nfrequently in this Country whipt their Sons for making Verses; and\nhere I could not but reflect how useful a Discipline early Correction\nmust be to a Poet; and how easy the Town had been had N---t, E---w,\nT. B--- P---s, D-- S-- D---fy, and an Hundred more of the jingling\nTrain of our modern Rhymers, been Whipt young, very young, for\nPoetasting, they had never perhaps suckt in that Venome of Ribaldry,\nwhich all the Satyr of the Age has never been able to scourge out of\nthem to this Day.\nThe further fatal Consequences of these unhappy Defects in Nature,\nwhere she has damn'd a Man to Wit and Rhyme, has been loss of\nInheritance, Parents being aggravated by the obstinate young Beaus,\nresolving to be Wits in spight of Nature, the wiser Head has been\nobliged to Confederate with Nature, and with-hold the Birth-right\nof Brains, which otherwise the young Gentleman might have enjoy'd,\nto the great support of his Family and Posterity. Thus the famous\nWaller, Denham, Dryden, and sundry Others, were oblig'd to condemn\ntheir Race to Lunacy and Blockheadism, only to prevent the fatal\nDestruction of their Families, and entailing the Plague of Wit and\nWeathercocks upon their Posterity.\nThe yet farther Extravagancies which naturally attend the Mischief of\nWit, are Beau-ism, Dogmaticality, Whimsification, Impudensity, and\nvarious kinds of Fopperosities (according to Mr. Boyl,) which issuing\nout of the Brain, descend into all the Faculties, and branch\nthemselves by infinite Variety, into all the Actions of Life.\nThese by Conseqence, Beggar the Head, the Tail, the Purse, and the\nwhole Man, till he becomes as poor and despicable as Negative Nature\ncan leave him, abandon'd of his Sense, his Manners, his Modesty, and\nwhat's worse, his Money, having nothing left but his Poetry, dies in\na Ditch, or a Garret, A-la-mode de Tom Brown, uttering Rhymes and\nNonsence to the last Moment.\nIn Pity to all my unhappy Brethren, who suffer under these\nInconveniencies, I cannot but leave it on Record, that they may not\nbe reproached with being Agents of their own Misfortunes, since I\nassure them, Nature has form'd them with the very Necessity of acting\nlike Coxcombs, fixt upon them by the force of Organick Consequences,\nand placed down at the very Original Effusion of that fatal thing\ncall'd Wit.\nNor is the Discovery less wonderful than edifying, and no humane Art\non our side the World ever found out such a Sympathetick Influence,\nbetween the Extreams of Wit and Folly, till this great Lunarian\nNaturalist furnisht us with such unheard-of Demonstrations.\nNor is this all I learnt from him, tho' I cannot part with this, till\nI have publisht a Memento Mori, and told 'em what I had discovered\nof Nature in these remote Parts of the World, from whence I take\nthe Freedom to tell these Gentlemen, That if they please to Travel\nto these distant Parts, and examine this great Master of Nature's\nSecrets, they may every Man see what cross Strokes Nature has struck,\nto finish and form every extravagant Species of that Heterogenious\nKind we call Wit.\nThere C--- S--- may be inform'd how he comes to be very Witty, and\na Mad-man all at once; and P---r may see, That with less Brains and\nmore P--x he is more a Wit and more a Mad-man than the Coll. Ad---son\nmay tell his Master my Lord ---- the reason from Nature, why he would\nnot take the Court's Word, nor write the Poem call'd, The Campaign,\ntill he had 200 l. per Annum secur'd to him; since 'tis known they\nhave but one Author in the Nation that writes for 'em for nothing,\nand he is labouring very hard to obtain the Title of Blockhead, and\nnot be paid for it: Here D. might understand, how he came to be able\nto banter all Mankind, and yet all Mankind be able to banter him; at\nthe fame time our numerous throng of Parnassians may see Reasons for\nthe variety of the Negative and Positive Blessings they enjoy; some\nfor having Wit and no Verse, some Verse and no Wit, some Mirth\nwithout Jest, some Jest without Fore-cast, some Rhyme and no Jingle,\nsome all Jingle and no Rhyme, some Language without measure; some all\nQuantity and no Cudence, some all Wit and no Sence, some all Sence\nand no Flame, some Preach in Rhyme, some sing when they Preach,\nsome all Song and no Tune, some all Tune and no Song; all these\nUnaccountables have their Originals, and can be answer'd for in\nunerring Nature, tho' in our out-side Guesses we can say little to\nit. Here is to be seen, why some are all Nature, some all Art; some\nbeat Verse out of the Twenty-four rough Letters, with Ten Hammers\nand Anvils to every Line, and maul the Language as a Swede beats\nStock-Fish; Others buff Nature, and bully her out of whole Stanza's\nof ready-made Lines at a time, carry all before them, and rumble like\ndistant Thunder in a black Cloud: Thus Degrees and Capacities are\nfitted by Nature, according to Organick Efficacy; and the Reason and\nNature of Things are found in themselves: Had D---y seen his own\nDraft by this Light of Chinese Knowledge, he might have known he\nshould be a Coxcomb without writing Twenty-two Plays, to stand as so\nmany Records against him. Dryden might have told his Fate, that\nhaving his extraordinary Genius flung and pitcht upon a Swivle, it\nwould certainly turn round as fast as the Times, and instruct him how\nto write Elegies to O. C. and King C. the Second, with all the\nCoherence imaginable; how to write Religio Laicy, and the Hind and\nPanther, and yet be the same Man, every Day to change his Principle,\nchange his Religion, change his Coat, change his Master, and yet\nnever change his Nature.\nThere are abundance of other Secrets in Nature discover'd in relation\nto these things, too many to repeat, and yet too useful to omit, as\nthe reason why Phisicians are generally Atheists; and why Atheists\nare universally Fools, and generally live to know it themselves, the\nreal Obstructions, which prevent fools being mad, all the Natural\nCauses of Love, abundance of Demonstrations of the Synonimous Nature\nof Love and Leachery, especially consider'd a la Modern, with an\nabsolute Specifick for the Frenzy of Love, found out in the\nConstitution, Anglice, a Halter.\nIt would be endless to reckon up the numerous Improvements, and\nwonderful Discoveries this extraordinary Person has brought down, and\nwhich are to be seen in his curious Chamber of Rarities.\nParticularly, a Map of Parnassus, with an exact Delineation of\nall the Cells, Apartments, Palaces and Dungeons, of that most\nfamous Mountain; with a Description of its Heighth, and a learned\nDissertation, proving it to be the properest Place next to the P---e\nHouse to take a Rise at, for a flight to the World in the Moon.\nAlso some Enquiries, whether Noah's Ark did not first rest upon\nit; and this might be one of the Summits of Ararat, with some\nConfutations of the gross and palpable Errors, which place this\nextraordinary Skill among the Mountains of the Moon in Africa.\nAlso you have here a Muse calcin'd, a little of the Powder of which\ngiven to a Woman big with Child, if it be a Boy it will be a Poet, if\na Girl she'll be a Whore, if an Hermaphrodite it will be Lunatick.\nStrange things, they tell us, have been done with this calcin'd Womb\nof Imagination; if the Body it came from was a Lyrick Poet, the Child\nwill be a Beau, or a Beauty; if an Heroick Poet, he will be a Bulley;\nif his Talent was Satyr, he'll be a Philosopher.\nAnother Muse they tell us, they have dissolv'd into a Liquid, and\nkept with wondrous Art, the Vertues of which are Soveraign against\nIdeotism, Dullness, and all sorts of Lethargick Diseases; but if\ngiven in too great a quantity, creates Poesy, Poverty, Lunacy, and\nthe Devil in the Head ever after.\nI confess, I always thought these Muses strange intoxicating things,\nand have heard much talk of their Original, but never was acquainted\nwith their Vertue a la Simple before; however, I would always advise\nPeople against too large a Dose of Wit, and think the Physician must\nbe a Mad-man that will venture to prescribe it.\nAs all these noble Acquirements came down with this wonderful Man\nfrom the World in the Moon, it furnisht me with these useful\nObservations.\n1. That Country must needs be a Place of strange Perfection, in all\nparts of extraordinary Knowledge.\n2. How useful a thing it would be for most sorts of our People,\nespecially Statesmen, P----t-men, Convocation-men, Phylosophers,\nPhysicians, Quacks, Mountebanks, Stock-jobbers, and all the Mob of\nthe Nation's Civil or Ecclesiastical Bone-setters, together with some\nMen of the Law, some of the Sword, and all of the Pen: I say, how\nuseful and improving a thing it must be to them, to take a Journey up\nto the World in the Moon; but above all, how much more beneficial it\nwould be to them that stay'd behind.\n3. That it is not to be wonder'd at, why the Chinese excell so much\nall these Parts of the World, since but for that Knowledge which\ncomes down to them from the World in the Moon, they would be like\nother People.\n4. No Man need to Wonder at my exceeding desire to go up to the World\nin the Moon, having heard of such extraordinary Knowledge to be\nobtained there, since in the search of Knowledge and Truth, wiser Men\nthan I have taken as unwarrantable Flights, and gone a great deal\nhigher than the Moon, into a strange Abbyss of dark Phanomena, which\nthey neither could make other People understand, nor ever rightly\nunderstood themselves, witness Malbranch, Mr. Lock, Hobbs, the\nHonourable Boyle and a great many others, besides Messieurs Norris,\nAsgil, Coward, and the Tale of a Tub.\nThis great Searcher into Nature has, besides all this, left wonderful\nDiscoveries and Experiments behind him; but I was with nothing more\nexceedingly diverted, than with his various Engines, and curious\nContrivances, to go to and from his own Native Country the Moon. All\nour Mechanick Motions of Bishop Wilkins, or the artificial Wings of\nthe Learned Spaniard, who could have taught God Almighty how to have\nmended the Creation, are Fools to this Gentleman; and because no\nMan in China has made more Voyages up into the Moon than my self, I\ncannot but give you some Account of the easyness of the Passage, as\nwell as of the Country.\nNor are his wonderful Tellescopes of a mean Quality, by which such\nplain Discoveries are made, of the Lands and Seas in the Moon, and in\nall the habitable Planets, that one may as plainly fee what a Clock\nit is by one of the Dials in the Moon, as if it were no farther off\nthan Windsor-Castle; and had he liv'd to finish the Speaking-trumpet\nwhich he had contriv'd to convey Sound thither, Harlequin's\nMock-Trumpet had been a Fool to it; and it had no doubt been an\nadmirable Experiment, to have given us a general Advantage from all\ntheir acquir'd Knowledge in those Regions, where no doubt several\nuseful Discoveries are daily made by the Men of Thought for the\nImprovement of all sorts of humane Understanding, and to have\ndiscoursed with them on those things, must have been very pleasant,\nbesides, its being very much to our particular Advantage.\nI confess, I have thought it might have been very useful to this\nNation, to have brought so wonderful an Invention hither, and I was\nonce very desirous to have set up my rest here, and for the Benefit\nof my Native Country, have made my self Master of these Engines,\nthat I might in due time have convey'd them to our Royal Society,\nthat once in 40 Years they might have been said to do something for\nPublick Good; and that the Reputation and Usefulness of the so so's\nmight be recover'd in England; but being told that in the Moon\nthere were many of these Glasses to be had very cheap, and I having\ndeclar'd my Resolution of undertaking a Voyage thither, I deferred my\nDesign, and shall defer my treating of them, till I give some Account\nof my Arrival there.\nBut above all his Inventions for making this Voyage, I saw none more\npleasant or profitable, than a certain Engine formed in the shape of\na Chariot, on the Backs of two vast Bodies with extended Wings, which\nspread about 50 Yards in Breadth, compos'd of Feathers so nicely put\ntogether, that no Air could pass; and as the Bodies were made of\nLunar Earth which would bear the Fire, the Cavities were fill'd with\nan Ambient Flame, which fed on a certain Spirit deposited in a proper\nquantity, to last out the Voyage; and this Fire so order'd as to move\nabout such Springs and Wheels as kept the Wings in a most exact and\nregular Motion, always ascendant; thus the Person being placed in\nthis airy Chariot, drinks a certain dozing Draught, that throws him\ninto a gentle Slumber, and Dreaming all the way, never wakes till he\ncomes to his Journey's end.\nOf the Consolidator.\nThese Engines are call'd in their Country Language, Dupekasses; and\naccording to the Ancient Chinese, or Tartarian, Apezolanthukanistes;\nin English, a Consolidator.\nThe Composition of this Engine is very admirable; for, as is before\nnoted, 'tis all made up of Feathers, and the quality of the Feathers,\nis no less wonderful than their Composition; and therefore, I hope\nthe Reader will bear with the Description for the sake of the\nNovelty, since I assure him such things as these are not to be seen\nin every Country.\nThe number of Feathers are just 513, they are all of a length and\nbreadth exactly, which is absolutely necessary to the floating\nFigure, or else one side or any one part being wider or longer than\nthe rest, it would interrupt the motion of the whole Engine; only\nthere is one extraordinary Feather which, as there is an odd one in\nthe number, is placed in the Center, and is the Handle, or rather\nRudder to the whole Machine: This Feather is every way larger than\nits Fellows, 'tis almost as long and broad again; but above all, its\nQuill or Head is much larger, and it has as it were several small\nbushing Feathers round the bottom of it, which all make but one\npresiding or superintendent Feather, to guide, regulate, and pilot\nthe whole Body.\nNor are these common Feathers, but they are pickt and cull'd out of\nall parts of the Lunar Country, by the Command of the Prince; and\nevery Province sends up the best they can find, or ought to do so at\nleast, or else they are very much to blame; for the Employment they\nare put to being of so great use to the Publick, and the Voyage or\nFlight so exceeding high, it would be very ill done if, when the King\nsends his Letters about the Nation, to pick him up the best Feathers\nthey can lay their Hands on, they should send weak, decay'd, or\nhalf-grown Feathers, and yet sometimes it happens so; and once there\nwas such rotten Feathers collected, whether it was a bad Year for\nFeathers, or whether the People that gather'd them had a mind to\nabuse their King; but the Feathers were so bad, the Engine was good\nfor nothing, but broke before it was got half way; and by a double\nMisfortune, this happen'd to be at an unlucky time, when the King\nhimself had resolv'd on a Voyage, or Flight to to the Moon; but being\ndeceiv'd, by the unhappy Miscarriage of the deficient Feathers, he\nfell down from so great a height, that he struck himself against his\nown Palace, and beat his Head off.\nNor had the Sons of this Prince much better Success, tho' the first\nof them was a Prince mightily belov'd by his Subjects; but his\nMisfortunes chiefly proceeded from his having made use of one of the\nEngines so very long, that the Feathers were quite worn out, and good\nfor nothing: He used to make a great many Voyages and Flights into\nthe Moon, and then would make his Subjects give him great Sums of\nMoney to come down to them again; and yet they were so fond of him,\nThat they always complyed with him, and would give him every thing he\naskt, rather than to be without him: But they grew wiser since.\nAt last, this Prince used his Engine so long, it could hold together\nno longer; and being obliged to write to his Subjects to pick him out\nsome new Feathers, they did so; but withall sent him such strong\nFeathers, and so stiff, that when he had placed 'em in their proper\nplaces, and made a very beautiful Engine, it was too heavy for him\nto manage: He made a great many Essays at it, and had it placed on\nthe top of an old Idol Chappel, dedicated to an old Bramyn Saint of\nthose Countries, called, Phantosteinaschap; in Latin, chap. de Saint\nStephano; or in English, St. Stephen's: Here the Prince try'd all\npossible Contrivances, and a vast deal of Money it cost him; but the\nFeathers were so stiff they would not work, and the Fire within was\nso choaked and smother'd with its own Smoak, for want of due Vent and\nCirculation, that it would not burn; so he was oblig'd to take it\ndown again; and from thence he carried it to his College of Bramyn\nPriests, and set it up in one of their Publick Buildings: There he\ndrew Circles of Ethicks and Politicks, and fell to casting of Figures\nand Conjuring, but all would not do, the Feathers could not be\nbrought to move; and, indeed, I have observ'd, That these Engines\nare seldom helpt by Art and Contrivance; there is no way with them,\nbut to have the People spoke to, to get good Feathers; and they are\neasily placed, and perform all the several Motions with the greatest\nEase and Accuracy imaginable; but it must be all Nature; any thing of\nForce distorts and dislocates them, and the whole Order is spoiled;\nand if there be but one Feather out of place, or pincht, or stands\nwrong, the D---l would not ride in the Chariot.\nThe Prince thus finding his Labour in vain, broke the Engine to\npieces, and sent his Subjects Word what bad Feathers they had sent\nhim: But the People, who knew it was his own want of Management, and\nthat the Feathers were good enough, only a little stiff at first, and\nwith good Usage would have been brought to be fit for use, took it\nill, and never would send him any other as long as he liv'd: However,\nit had this good effect upon him, That he never made any more Voyages\nto the Moon as long as he reign'd.\nHis Brother succeeded him; and truly he was resolved upon a Voyage\nto the Moon, as soon as ever he came to the Crown. He had met with\nsome unkind Usage from the Religious Lunesses of his own Country; and\nhe turn'd Abogratziarian, a zealous fiery Sect something like our\nAnti-every-body-arians in England. 'Tis confest, some of the Bramyns\nof his Country were very false to him, put him upon several Ways of\nextending his Power over his Subjects, contrary to the Customs of\nthe People, and contrary to his own Interest; and when the People\nexpressed their Dislike of it, he thought to have been supported\nby those Clergy-men; but they failed him, and made good, that Old\nEnglish Verse;\nThat Priests of all Religions are the same.\nHe took this so hainously, that he conceiv'd a just Hatred against\nthose that had deceiv'd him; and as Resentments seldom keep Rules,\nunhappily entertain'd Prejudices against all the rest; and not\nfinding it easy to bring all his Designs to pass better, he resolved\nupon a Voyage to the Moon.\nAccordingly, he sends a Summons to all his People according to\nCustom, to collect the usual quantity of Feathers for that purpose;\nand because he would be sure not be used as his Brother and Father\nhad been, he took care to send certain Cunning-men Express, all\nover the Country, to bespeak the People's Care, in collecting,\npicking and culling them out, these were call'd in their Language,\nTsopablesdetoo; which being Translated may signify in English, Men of\nZeal, or Booted Apostles: Nor was this the only Caution this Prince\nused; for he took care, as the Feathers were sent up to him, to\nsearch and examine them one by one in his own Closet, to see if\nthey were fit for his purpose; but, alas! he found himself in his\nBrother's Case exactly; and perceived, That his Subjects were\ngenerally disgusted at his former Conduct, about Abrogratzianism,\nand such things, and particularly set in a Flame by some of their\nPriests, call'd, Dullobardians, or Passive-Obedience-men, who had\nlately turn'd their Tale, and their Tail too upon their own Princes;\nand upon this, he laid aside any more Thoughts of the Engine, but\ntook up a desperate and implacable Resolution, viz. to fly up to the\nMoon without it; in order to this, abundance of his Cunning-men were\nsummon'd together to assist him, strange Engines contriv'd, and\nMethods propos'd; and a great many came from all Parts, to furnish\nhim with Inventions and equivalent for their Journey; but all were so\npreposterous and ridiculous, that his Subjects seeing him going on to\nruin himself, and by Consequence them too, unanimously took Arms; and\nif their Prince had not made his Escape into a foreign Country, 'tis\nthought they would have secur'd him for a Mad-man.\nAnd here 'tis observable, That as it is in most such Cases, the mad\nCouncellors of this Prince, when the People begun to gather about\nhim, fled; and every one shifted for themselves; nay, and some of\nthem plunder'd him first of his Jewels and Treasure, and never were\nheard of since.\nFrom this Prince none of the Kings or Government of that Country have\never seem'd to incline to the hazardous Attempt of the Voyage to the\nMoon, at least not in such a hair-brain'd manner.\nHowever, the Engine has been very accurately Re-built and finish'd;\nand the People are now oblig'd by a Law, to send up new Feathers\nevery three Years, to prevent the Mischiefs which happen'd by that\nPrince aforesaid, keeping one Set so long that it was dangerous to\nventure with them; and thus the Engine is preserved fit for use.\nAnd yet has not this Engine been without its continual Disasters, and\noften out of repair; for though the Kings of the Country, as has been\nNoted, have done riding on the back of it, yet the restless Courtiers\nand Ministers of State have frequently obtained the Management of it,\nfrom the too easy Goodness of their Masters, or the Evils of the\nTimes.\nTo Cure this, the Princes frequently chang'd Hands, turn'd one Set of\nMen out and put another in: But this made things still worse; for it\ndivided the People into Parties and Factions in the State, and still\nthe Strife was, who should ride in this Engine; and no sooner were\nthese Skaet-Riders got into it, but they were for driving all the\nNation up to the Moon: But of this by it self.\nAuthors differ concerning the Original of these Feathers, and by what\nmost exact Hand they were first appointed to this particular use; and\nas their Original is hard to be found, so it seems a Difficulty to\nresolve from what sort of Bird these Feathers are obtained: Some have\nnam'd one, some another; but the most Learned in those Climates call\nit by a hard Word, which the Printer having no Letters to express,\nand being in that place Hierogliphical, I can translate no better,\nthan by the Name of a Collective: This must be a Strange Bird without\ndoubt; it has Heads, Claws, Eyes and Teeth innumerable; and if I\nshould go about to describe it to you, the History would be so\nRomantick, it would spoil the Credit of these more Authentick\nRelations which are yet behind.\n'Tis sufficient, therefore, for the present, only to leave you this\nshort Abridgement of the Story, as follows: This great Monstrous\nBird, call'd the Collective, is very seldom seen, and indeed never,\nbut upon Great Revolutions, and portending terrible Desolations and\nDestructions to a Country.\nBut he frequently sheds his Feathers; and they are carefully pickt\nup, by the Proprietors of those Lands where they fall; for none but\nthose Proprietors may meddle with them; and they no sooner pick them\nup but they are sent to Court, where they obtain a new Name, and are\ncalled in a Word equally difficult to pronounce as the other, but\nVery like our English Word, Representative; and being placed in their\nproper Rows, with the Great Feather in the Center, and fitted for\nuse, they lately obtained the Venerable Title of, The Consolidators;\nand the Machine it self, the Consolidator; and by that Name the\nReader is desir'd for the future to let it be dignified and\ndistinguish'd.\nI cannot, however, forbear to descant a little here, on the Dignity\nand Beauty of these Feathers, being such as are hardly to be seen in\nany part of the World, but just in these remote Climates.\nAnd First, Every Feather has various Colours, and according to the\nVariety of the Weather, are apt to look brighter and clearer, or\npaler and fainter, as the Sun happens to look on them with a stronger\nor weaker Aspect. The Quill or Head of every Feather is or ought to\nbe full of a vigorous Substance, which gives Spirit, and supports the\nbrightness and colour of the Feather; and as this is more or less in\nquantity, the bright Colour of the Feather is increased, or turns\nlanguid and pale.\nTis true, some of those Quills are exceeding empty and dry; and the\nHumid being totally exhal'd, those Feathers grow very useless and\ninsignificant in a short time.\nSome again are so full of Wind, and puft up with the Vapour of the\nClimate, that there's not Humid enough to Condence the Steam; and\nthese are so fleet, so light, and so continually fluttering and\ntroublesome, that they greatly serve to disturb and keep the Motion\nunsteddy.\nOthers either placed too near the inward concealed Fire, or the Head\nof the Quill being thin, the Fire causes too great a Fermentation;\nand the Consequence of this is so fatal, that sometimes it mounts the\nEngine up too fast, and indangers Precipitation: But 'tis happily\nobserved, That these ill Feathers are but a very few, compar'd to the\nwhole number; at the most, I never heard they were above 134 of the\nwhole number: As for the empty ones, they are not very dangerous, but\na sort of Good-for-nothing Feathers, that will fly when the greatest\nnumber of the rest fly, or stand still when they stand still. The\nfluttering hot-headed Feathers are the most dangerous, and frequently\nstruggle hard to mount the Engine to extravagant heights; but still\nthe greater number of the Feathers being stanch, and well fixt, as\nwell as well furnisht, they always prevail, and check the Disorders\nthe other would bring upon the Motion; so that upon the whole Matter,\ntho' there has sometims been oblique Motions, Variations, and\nsometimes great Wandrings out of the way, which may make the Passage\ntedious, yet it has always been a certain and safe Voyage; and no\nEngine was ever known to miscarry or overthrow, but that one\nmentioned before, and that was very much owing to the precipitate\nMethods the Prince took in guiding it; and tho' all the fault was\nlaid in the Feathers, and they were to blame enough, yet I never\nheard any Wise Man, but what blam'd his Discretion, and particularly,\na certain great Man has wrote three large Tracts of those Affairs,\nand call'd them, The History of the Opposition of the Feathers;\nwherein, tho' it was expected he would have curst the Engine it self\nand all the Feathers to the Devil, on the contrary, he lays equal\nblame on the Prince, who guided the Chariot with so unsteddy a hand,\nnow as much too slack, as then too hard, turning them this way and\nthat so hastily, that the Feathers could not move in their proper\norder; and this at last put the Fire in the Center quite out, and so\nthe Engine over-set at once. This Impartiality has done great Justice\nto the Feathers, and set things in a clearer light: But of this I\nshall say more, when I come to treat of the Works of the Learned in\nthis Lunar World.\nThis is hinted here only to inform the Reader, That this Engine is\nthe safest Passage that ever was found out; and that saving that\none time, it never miscarried; nor if the common Order of things\nbe observed, cannot Miscarry; for the good Feathers are always\nNegatives, when any precipitant Motion is felt, and immediately\nsuppress it by their number; and these Negative Feathers are indeed\nthe Travellers safety; the other are always upon the flutter, and\nupon every occasion hey for the Moon, up in the Clouds presently; but\nthese Negative Feathers are never for going up, but when there is\noccasion for it; and from hence these fluttering fermented Feathers\nwere called by the Antients High-flying Feathers, and the blustering\nthings seem'd proud of the Name.\nBut to come to their general Character, the Feathers, speaking of\nthem all together, are generally very Comely, Strong, Large,\nBeautiful things, their Quills or Heads well fixt, and the Cavities\nfill'd with a solid substantial Matter, which tho' it is full of\nSpirit, has a great deal of Temperament, and full of suitable\nwell-dispos'd Powers, to the Operation for which they are design'd.\nThese placed, as I Noted before, in an extended Form like two great\nWings, and operated by that sublime Flame; which being concealed in\nproper Receptacles, obtains its vent at the Cavities appointed, are\nsupplied from thence with Life and Motion; and as Fire it fell, in\nthe Opinion of some Learned Men, is nothing but Motion, and Motion\ntends to Fire: It can no more be a Wonder, if exalted in the Center\nof this famous Engine, a whole Nation should be carried up to the\nWorld in the Moon.\n'Tis true, this Engine is frequently assaulted with fierce Winds, and\nfurious Storms, which sometimes drive it a great way out of its way;\nand indeed, considering the length of the Passage, and the various\nRegions it goes through, it would be strange if it should meet with\nno Obstructions: These are oblique Gales, and cannot be said to blow\nfrom any of the Thirty-two Points, but Retrograde and Thwart: Some of\nthese are call'd in their Language, Pensionazima, which is as much\nas to say, being Interpreted, a Court-breeze; another sort of Wind,\nwhich generally blows directly contrary to the Pensionazima, is\nthe Clamorio, or in English, a Country Gale; this is generally\nTempestuous, full of Gusts and Disgusts, Squauls and sudden Blasts,\nnot without claps of Thunder, and not a little flashing of Heat and\nParty-fires.\nThere are a great many other Internal Blasts, which proceed from the\nFire within, which sometimes not circulating right, breaks out in\nlittle Gusts of Wind and Heat, and is apt to indanger setting Fire to\nthe Feathers, and this is more or less dangerous, according as among\nwhich of the Feathers it happens; for some of the Feathers are more\napt to take Fire than others, as their Quills or Heads are more or\nless full of that solid Matter mention'd before.\nThe Engine suffers frequent Convulsions and Disorders from these\nseveral Winds; and which if they chance to overblow very much, hinder\nthe Passage; but the Negative Feathers always apply Temper and\nModeration; and this brings all to rights again.\nFor a Body like this, what can it not do? what cannot such an\nExtension perform in the Air? And when one thing is tackt to another,\nand properly Cosolidated into one mighty Consolidator, no question\nbut whoever shall go up to the Moon, will find himself so improv'd\nin this wonderful Experiment, that not a Man ever perform'd that\nwonderful Flight, but he certainly came back again as wise as he went.\nWell, Gentlemen, and what if we are called High-flyers now, and an\nHundred Names of Contempt and Distinction, what is this to the\npurpose? who would not be a High-flyer, to be Tackt and Consolidated\nin an Engine of such sublime Elevation, and which lifts Men,\nMonarchs, Members, yea, and whole Nations, up into the Clouds; and\nperforms with such wondrous Art, the long expected Experiment of a\nVoyage to the Moon? And thus much for the Description of the\nConsolidator.\nThe first Voyage I ever made to this Country, was in one of these\nEngines; and I can safely affirm, I never wak'd all the way; and now\nhaving been as often there as most that have us'd that Trade, it may\nbe expected I should give some Account of the Country; for it\nappears, I can give but little of the Road.\nOnly this I understand, That when this Engine, by help of these\nArtificial Wings, has raised it self up to a certain height, the\nWings are as useful to keep it from falling into the Moon, as they\nwere before to raise it, and keep it from falling back into this\nRegion again.\nThis may happen from an Alteration of Centers, and Gravity having\npast a certain Line, the Equipoise changes its Tendency, the\nMagnetick Quality being beyond it, it inclines of Course, and pursues\na Center, which it finds in the Lunar World, and lands us safe upon\nthe Surface.\nI was told, I need take no Bills of Exchange with me, nor Letters of\nCredit; for that upon my first Arrival, the Inhabitants would be very\ncivil to me: That they never suffered any of Our World to want any\nthing when they came there: That they were very free to show them\nany thing, and inform them in all needful Cases; and that whatever\nRarities the Country afforded, should be expos'd immediately.\nI shall not enter into the Customs, Geography, or History of the\nPlace, only acquaint the Reader, That I found no manner of Difference\nin any thing Natural, except as hereafter excepted, but all was\nexactly as is here, an Elementary World, peopled with Folks, as like\nus as if they were only Inhabitants of the same Continent, but in a\nremote Climate.\nThe Inhabitants were Men, Women, Beasts, Birds, Fishes, and Insects,\nof the same individual Species as Ours, the latter excepted: The Men\nno wiser, better, nor bigger than here; the Women no handsomer or\nhonester than Ours: There were Knaves and honest Men, honest Women\nand Whores of all Sorts, Countries, Nations and Kindreds, as on this\nside the Skies.\nThey had the same Sun to shine, the Planets were equally visible as\nto us, and their Astrologers were as busily Impertinent as Ours, only\nthat those wonderful Glasses hinted before made strange Discoveries\nthat we were unacquainted with; by them they could plainly discover,\nThat this World was their Moon, and their World our Moon; and when I\ncame first among them, the People that flockt about me, distinguisht\nme by the Name of, the Man that came out of the Moon.\nI cannot, however, but acquaint the Reader, with some Remarks I made\nin this new World, before I come to any thing Historical.\nI have heard, that among the Generallity of our People, who being\nnot much addicted to Revelation, have much concern'd themselves\nabout Demonstrations, a Generation have risen up, who to solve\nthe Difficulties of Supernatural Systems, imagine a mighty vast\nSomething, who has no Form but what represents him to them as one\nGreat Eye: This infinite Optick they imagine to be Natura Naturans,\nor Power-forming; and that as we pretend the Soul of Man has a\nSimilitude in quality to its Original, according to a Notion some\nPeople have, who read that so much ridicul'd Old Legend, call'd\nBible, That Man was made in the Image of his Maker: The Soul of Man,\ntherefore, in the Opinion of these Naturallists, is one vast Optick\nPower diffus'd through him into all his Parts, but seated principally\nin his Head.\nFrom hence they resolve all Beings to Eyes, some more capable of\nSight and receptive of Objects than others; and as to things\nInvisible, they reckon nothing so, only so far as our Sight is\ndeficient, contracted or darkened by Accidents from without, as\nDistance of Place, Interposition of Vapours, Clouds, liquid Air,\nExhalations, &c. or from within, as wandring Errors, wild Notions,\ncloudy Understandings, and empty Fancies, with a Thousand other\ninterposing Obstacles to the Sight, which darken it, and prevent its\nOperation; and particularly obstruct the perceptive Faculties, weaken\nthe Head, and bring Mankind in General to stand in need of the\nSpectacles of Education as soon as ever they are born: Nay, and as\nsoon as they have made use of these Artificial Eyes, all they can do\nis but to clear the Sight so far as to see that they can't see; the\nutmost Wisdom of Mankind, and the highest Improvement a Man ought to\nwish for, being but to be able to see that he was Born blind; this\npushes him upon search after Mediums for the Recovery of his Sight,\nand away he runs to School to Art and Science, and there he is\nfurnisht with Horoscopes, Microscopes, Tellescopes, Caliscopes,\nMoney-scopes, and the D---l and and all of Glasses, to help and\nassist his Moon-blind Understanding; these with wonderful Skill and\nAges of Application, after wandring thro' Bogs and Wildernesses of\nGuess, Conjectures, Supposes, Calculations, and he knows not what,\nwhich he meets with in Physicks, Politicks, Ethicks, Astronomy,\nMathematicks, and such sort of bewildring Things, bring him with vast\nDifficulty to a little Minute-spot, call'd Demonstration; and as not\none in Ten Thousand ever finds the way thither, but are lost in the\ntiresome uncouth Journey, so they that do, 'tis so long before\nthey come there, that they are grown Old and good for little in\nthe Journey; and no sooner have they obtained a glimering of this\nUniversal Eye-sight, this Eclaricissment General, but they Die, and\nhave hardly time to show the way to those that come after.\nNow, as the earnest search after this thing call'd Demonstration\nfill'd me with Desires of seeing every thing, so my Observations of\nthe strange multitude of Mysteries I met with in all Men's Actions\nhere, spurr'd my Curiosity to examine, if the Great Eye of the World\nhad no People to whom he had given a clearer Eye-sight, or at least,\nthat made a better use of it than we had here.\nIf pursuing this search I was much delighted at my Arrival into\nChina, it cannot be thought strange, since there we find Knowledge\nas much advanc'd beyond our common Pitch, as it was pretended to be\nderiv'd from a more Ancient Original.\nWe are told, that in the early Age of the World, the Strength of\nInvention exceeded all that ever has been arrived to since: That we\nin these latter Ages, having lost all that pristine Strength of\nReason and Invention, which died with the Ancients in the Flood,\nand receiving no helps from that Age, have by long Search arriv'd\nat several remote Parts of Knowledge, by the helps of reading\nConversation and Experience; but that all amounts to no more than\nfaint Imitations, Apings, and Resemblances of what was known in\nthose masterly Ages.\nNow, if it be true as is hinted before, That the Chinese Empire was\nPeopled long before the Flood; and that they were not destroyed in\nthe General Deluge in the Days of Noah; 'tis no such strange thing,\nthat they should so much out-do us in this sort of Eye-sight we call\nGeneral Knowledge, since the Perfections bestow'd on Nature, when in\nher Youth and Prime met with no General Suffocation by that Calamity.\nBut if I was extreamly delighted with the extraordinary things I saw\nin those Countries, you cannot but imagine I was exceedingly mov'd,\nwhen I heard of a Lunar World; and that the way was passable from\nthese Parts.\nI had heard of a World in the Moon among some of our Learned\nPhilosophers, and Moor, as I have been told, had a Moon in his Head;\nbut none of the fine Pretenders, no not Bishop Wilkins, ever found\nMechanick Engines, whose Motion was sufficient to attempt the\nPassage. A late happy Author indeed, among his Mechanick Operations\nof the Spirit, had found out an Enthusiasm, which if he could have\npursued to its proper Extream, without doubt might, either in the\nBody or out of the Body, have Landed him somewhere hereabout; but\nthat he form'd his System wholly upon the mistaken Notion of Wind,\nwhich Learned Hypothesis being directly contrary to the Nature of\nthings in this Climate, where the Elasticity of the Air is quite\ndifferent and where the pressure of the Atmosphere has for want of\nVapour no Force, all his Notion dissolv'd in its Native Vapour call'd\nWind, and flew upward in blew Strakes of a livid Flame call'd\nBlasphemy, which burnt up all the Wit and Fancy of the Author, and\nleft a strange stench behind it, that has this unhappy quality in it,\nthat every Body that Reads the Book, smells the Author, tho' he be\nnever so far off; nay, tho' he took Shipping to Dublin, to secure his\nFriends from the least danger of a Conjecture.\nBut to return, to the happy Regions of the Lunar Continent, I was no\nsooner Landed there, and had lookt about me, but I was surpriz'd with\nthe strange Alteration of the Climate and Country; and particularly\na strange Salubrity and Fragrancy in the Air, which I felt so\nNourishing, so Pleasant and Delightful, that tho' I could perceive\nsome small Respiration, it was hardly discernable, and the least\nrequisite for Life, supplied so long that the Bellows of Nature were\nhardly imployed.\nBut as I shall take occasion to consider this in a Critical\nExamination into the Nature, Uses and Advantages of Good Lungs, of\nwhich by it self, so I think fit to confine my present Observations\nto things more particularly concerning the Eye-sight.\nI was, you may be sure, not a little surprized, when being upon an\nEminence I found my self capable by common Observation, to see and\ndistinguish things at the distance of 100 Miles and more, and seeking\nsome Information on this point, I was acquainted by the People, that\nthere was a certain grave Philosopher hard by, that could give me a\nvery good Account of things.\nIt is not worth while to tell you this Man's Lunar Name, of whether\nhe had a Name, or no; 'tis plain, 'twas a Man in the Moon; but all\nthe Conference I had with him was very strange: At my first coming to\nhim, he askt me if I came from the World in the Moon? I told him, no:\nAt which he began to be angry, told me I Ly'd, he knew whence I came\nas well as I did; for he saw me all the way. I told him, I came to\nthe World in the Moon, and began to be as surly as he. It was a long\ntime before we could agree about it, he would have it, that I came\ndown from the Moon; and I, that I came up to the Moon: From this,\nwe came to Explications, Demonstrations, Spheres, Globes, Regions,\nAtmospheres, and a Thousand odd Diagrams, to make the thing out to\none another. I insisted on my part, as that my Experiment qualified\nme to know, and challeng'd him to go back with me to prove it. He,\nlike a true Philosopher, raised a Thousand Scruples, Conjectures, and\nSpherical Problems, to Confront me; and as for Demonstrations, he\ncall'd 'em Fancies of my own. Thus we differ'd a great many ways;\nboth of us were certain, and both uncertain; both right, and yet\nboth directly contrary; how to reconcile this Jangle was very hard,\ntill at last this Demonstration happen'd, the Moon as he call'd it,\nturning her blind-side upon us three Days after the Change, by which,\nwith the help of his extraordinary Glasses, I that knew the Country,\nperceived that side the Sun lookt upon was all Moon, and the other\nwas all world; and either I fancy'd I saw or else really saw all the\nlofty Towers of the Immense Cities of China: Upon this, and a little\nmore Debate, we came to this Conclusion, and there the Old Man and I\nagreed, That they were both Moons and both Worlds, this a Moon to\nthat, and that a Moon to this, like the Sun between two\nLooking-Glasses, and shone upon one another by Reflection, according\nto the oblique or direct Position of each other.\nThis afforded us a great deal of Pleasure; for all the World covet to\nbe found in the right, and are pleas'd when their Notions are\nacknowledg'd by their Antagonists: It also afforded us many very\nuseful Speculations, such as these;\n1. How easy it is for Men to fall out, and yet all sides to be in\nthe right?\n2. How Natural it is for Opinion to despise Demonstration?\n3. How proper mutual Enquiry is to mutual Satisfaction?\nFrom the Observation of these Glasses, we also drew some Puns,\nCrotchets and Conclusions.\n1st, That the whole World has a Blind-side, a Dark-side, and a\nBright-side, and consequently so has every Body in it.\n2dly, That the Dark-side of Affairs to Day, may be the Bright-side to\nMorrow; from whence abundance of useful Morals were also raised; such\nas,\n1. No Man's Fate is so dark, but when the Sun shines upon it, it will\nreturn its Rays, and shine for it self.\n2. All things turn like the Moon, up to Day, down to Morrow, Full and\nChange, Flux and Reflux.\n3. Humane Understanding is like the Moon at the First Quarter, half\ndark.\n3dly, The Changing-sides ought not to be thought so strange, or\nso much Condemn'd by Mankind, having its Original from the Lunar\nInfluence, and govern'd by the Powerful Operation of Heavenly Motion.\n4thly, If there be any such thing as Destiny in the World, I know\nnothing Man is so predestinated to, as to be eternally turning round;\nand but that I purpose to entertain the Reader with at least a whole\nChapter or Section of the Philosophy of Humane Motion, Spherically\nand Hypocritically Examin'd and Calculated, I should inlarge upon\nthat Thought in this place.\nHaving thus jumpt in our Opinions, and perfectly satisfied our selves\nwith Demonstration, That these Worlds were Sisters, both in Form,\nFunction, and all their Capacities; in short, a pair of Moons, and a\npair of Worlds, equally Magnetical, Sympathetical, and Influential,\nwe set up our rest as to that Affair, and went forward.\nI desir'd no better Acquaintance in my new Travels, than this new\nSociate; never was there such a Couple of People met; he was the Man\nin the Moon to me, and I the Man in the Moon to him; he wrote down\nall I said, and made a Book of it, and call'd it, News from the World\nin the Moon; and all the Town is like to see my Minutes under the\nsame Title; nay, and I have been told, he published some such bold\nTruths there, from the Allegorical Relations he had of me from our\nWorld: That he was call'd before the Publick Authority, who could not\nbear the just Reflections of his damn'd Satyrical way of Writing;\nand there they punisht the Poor Man, put him in Prison, ruin'd his\nFamily; and not only Fin'd him Ultra tenementum, but expos'd him in\nthe high Places of their Capital City, for the Mob to laugh at him\nfor a Fool: This is a Punishment not unlike our Pillory, and was\nappointed for mean Criminals, Fellows that Cheat and Couzen People,\nForge Writings, Forswear themselves, and the like; and the People,\nthat it was expected would have treated this Man very ill, on the\ncontrary Pitied him, wisht those that set him there placed in his\nroom, and exprest their Affections, by loud Shouts and Acclamations,\nwhen he was taken down.\nBut as this happen'd before my first Visit to that World, when I came\nthere all was over with him, his particular Enemies were disgrac'd\nand turn'd out, and the Man was not at all the worse receiv'd by his\nCountry-folks than he was before; and so much for the Man in the Moon.\nAfter we had settled the Debate between us, about the Nature and\nQuality, I desir'd him to show me some Plan or Draft of this new\nWorld of his; upon which, he brought me out a pair of very beautiful\nGlobes, and there I had an immediate Geographical Description of the\nPlace.\nI found it less by Degrees than Our Terrestial Globe, but more Land\nand less Water; and as I was particularly concern'd to see something\nin or near the same Climate with Our selves, I observ'd a large\nextended Country to the North, about the Latitude of 50 to 56\nNorthern Distance; and enquiring of that Country, he told me it was\none of the best Countries in all their World: That it was his Native\nClimate, and he was just a going to it, and would take me with him.\nHe told me in General, the Country was Good, Wholsome, Fruitful,\nrarely Scituate for Trade, extraordinarily Accommodated with\nHarbours, Rivers and Bays for Shipping; full of Inhabitants; for it\nhad been Peopled from all Parts, and had in it some of the Blood of\nall the Nations in the Moon.\nHe told me, as the Inhabitants were the most Numerous, so they\nwere the strangest People that liv'd; both their Natures, Tempers,\nQualities, Actions, and way of Living, was made up of innumerable\nContradictions: That they were the Wisest Fools, and the Foolishest\nWise Men in the World; the Weakest Strongest, Richest Poorest, most\nGenerous Covetous, Bold Cowardly, False Faithful, Sober Dissolute,\nSurly Civil, Slothful Diligent, Peaceable Quarrelling, Loyal\nSeditious Nation that ever was known.\nBesides my Observations which I made my self, and which could only\nfurnish me with what was present, and which I shall take time to\ninform my Reader with as much Care and Conciseness as possible; I was\nbeholding to this Old Lunarian, for every thing that was Historical\nor Particular.\nAnd First, He inform'd me, That in this new Country they had very\nseldom any Clouds at all, and consequently no extraordinary Storms,\nbut a constant Serenity, moderate Breezes cooled the Air, and\nconstant Evening Exhalations kept the Earth moist and fruitful; and\nas the Winds they had were various and strong enough to assist their\nNavigation, so they were without the Terrors, Dangers, Ship-wrecks\nand Destructions, which he knew we were troubled with in this our\nLunar World, as he call'd it.\nThe first just Observation I made of this was, That I suppos'd from\nhence the wonderful Clearness of the Air, and the Advantage of so\nvast Optick Capacities they enjoy'd, was obtained: Alas! says the Old\nFellow, You see nothing to what some of our Great Eyes see in some\nParts of this World, nor do you see any thing compar'd to what you\nmay see by the help of some new Invented Glasses, of which I may in\ntime let you see the Experiment; and perhaps you may find this to be\nthe reason why we do not so abound in Books as in your Lunar World;\nand that except it be some extraordinary Translations out of your\nCountry, you will find but little in our Libraries, worth giving you\na great deal of Trouble.\nWe immediately quitted the Philosophical Discourse of Winds, and I\nbegan to be mighty Inquisitive after these Glasses and Translations,\nand\n1st, I understood here was a strange sort of Glass that did not so\nmuch bring to the Eye, as by I know not what wonderful Operation\ncarried out the Eye to the Object, and quite varies from all our\nDoctrine of Opticks, by forming several strange Phanomena in Sight,\nwhich we are utterly unacquainted with; nor could Vision,\nRarification, or any of our School-mens fine Terms, stand me in any\nstead in this case; but here was such Additions of piercing Organs,\nParticles of Transparence, Emission, Transmission, Mediums,\nContraction of Rays, and a Thousand Applications of things prepar'd\nfor the wondrous Operation, that you may be sure are requisite for\nthe bringing to pass something yet unheard of on this side the Moon.\nFirst we were inform'd, by the help of these Glasses, strange things,\nwhich pass in our World for Non-Entities, is to be seen, and very\nperceptible; for Example:\nState Polity, in all its Meanders, Shifts, Turns, Tricks, and\nContraries, are so exactly Delineated and Describ'd, That they are in\nhopes in time to draw a pair of Globes out, to bring all those things\nto a certainty.\nNot but that it made some Puzzle, even among these Clear-sighted\nNations, to determine what Figure the Plans and Drafts of this\nundiscover'd World of Mysteries ought to be describ'd in: Some were\nof Opinion, it ought, to be an Irregular Centagon, a Figure with an\nHundred Cones or Angles: Since the Unaccountables of this\nState-Science, are hid in a Million of undiscover'd Corners; as the\nCraft, Subtilty and Hypocrisy of Knaves and Courtiers have concealed\nthem, never to be found out, but by this wonderful D---l-scope, which\nseem'd to threaten a perfect Discovery of all those Nudities, which\nhave lain hid in the Embrio, and false Conceptions of Abortive\nPolicy, ever since the Foundation of the World.\nSome were of Opinion, this Plan ought to be Circular, and in a\nGlobular Form, since it was on all sides alike, full of dark Spots,\nuntrod Mazes, waking Mischiefs, and sleeping Mysteries; and being\ndelineated like the Globes display'd, would discover all the Lines of\nWickedness to the Eye at one view: Besides, they fancied some sort of\nAnalogy in the Rotundity of the Figure, with the continued Circular\nMotion of all Court-Policies, in the stated Round of Universal\nKnavery.\nOthers would have had it Hyrogliphical as by a Hand in Hand, the Form\nrepresenting the Affinity between State Policy here, and State Policy\nin the Infernal Regions, with some unkind Similies between the\nOeconomy of Satan's Kingdom, and those of most of the Temporal Powers\non Earth; but this was thought too unkind. At last it was determin'd,\nThat neither of these Schemes were capable of the vast Description;\nand that, therefore, the Drafts must be made single, tho' not\ndividing the Governments, yet dividing the Arts of Governing into\nproper distinct Schemes, viz.\n1. A particular Plan of Publick Faith; and here we had the Experiment\nimmediately made: The Representation is quallified for the Meridian\nof any Country, as well in our World as theirs; and turning it\nto'ards our own World, there I saw plainly an Exchequer shut up, and\n20000 Mourning Families selling their Coaches, Horses, Whores,\nEquipages, &c. for Bread, the Government standing by laughing, and\nlooking on: Hard by I saw the Chamber of a great City shut up, and\nForty Thousand Orphans turn'd adrift in the World; some had no\nCloaths, some no Shoes, some no Money; and still the City Magistrates\ncalling upon other Orphans, to pay their money in. These things put\nme in mind of the Prophet Ezekiel, and methoughts I heard the same\nVoice that spoke to him, calling me, and telling me, Come hither, and\nI'll show thee greater Abominations than these: So looking still on\nthat vast Map, by the help of these Magnifying Glasses, I saw huge\nFleets hir'd for Transport-Service, but never paid; vast Taxes\nAnticipated, that were never Collected; others Collected and\nAppropriated, but Misapplied: Millions of Talleys struck to be\nDiscounted, and the Poor paying 40 per Cent, to receive their Money.\nI saw huge Quantities of Money drawn in, and little or none issued\nout; vast Prizes taken from the Enemy, and then taken away again at\nhome by Friends; Ships sav'd on the Sea, and sunk in the Prize\nOffices; Merchants escaping from Enemies at Sea, and be Pirated by\nSham Embargoes, Counterfeit Claims, Confiscations, &c a-shoar: There\nwe saw Turkey-Fleets taken into Convoys, and Guarded to the very\nMouth of the Enemy, and then abandon'd for their better Security:\nHere we saw Mons. Pouchartrain shutting up the Town-house of Paris,\nand plundring the Bank of Lyons.\n2. Here we law the State of the War among Nations; Here was the\nFrench giving Sham-thanks for Victories they never got, and some body\nelse adressing and congratulating the sublime Glory of running away:\nHere was Te Deum for Sham-Victories by Land; and there was\nThanksgiving for Ditto by Sea: Here we might see two Armies fight,\nboth run away, and both come and thank GOD for nothing: Here we saw a\nPlan of a late War like that in Ireland; there was all the Officers\ncursing a Dutch General, because the damn'd Rogue would fight, and\nspoil a good War, that with decent Management and good Husbandry,\nmight have been eek't out this Twenty Years; there was whole Armies\nhunting two Cows to one Irishman, and driving of black Cattle\ndeclar'd the Noble End of the the War: Here we saw a Country full of\nStone Walls and strong Towns, where every Campaign, the Trade of War\nwas carried on by the Soldiers, with the same Intriguing as it was\ncarried on in the Council Chambers; there was Millions of\nContributions raised, and vast Sums Collected, but no Taxes lessen'd;\nwhole Plate Fleets surpriz'd, but no Treasure found; vaft Sums lost\nby Enemies, and yet never found by Friends, Ships loaded with\nVolatile Silver, that came away full, and gat home empty; whole\nVoyages made to beat No body, and plunder Every body; two Millions\nrobb'd from the honest Merchants, and not a Groat sav'd for the\nhonest Subjects: There we saw Captains Lifting Men with the\nGovernments Money, and letting them go again for their own; Ships\nfitted out at the Rates of Two Millions a Year, to fight but once in\nThree Years, and then run away for want of Powder and Shot.\nThere we saw Partition Treaties damned, and the whole given away,\nConfederations without Allies, Allies without Quota's, Princes\nwithout Armies, Armies without Men, and Men without Money, Crowns\nwithout Kings, Kings without Subjects, more Kings than Countries, and\nmore Countries than were worth fighting for.\nHere we could see the King of France upbraiding his Neighbours with\ndishonourably assisting his Rebels, though the Mischief was, they did\nit not neither; and in the same Breath, assisting the Hungarian\nRebels against the Emperor; M. Ld N. refusing so dishonourable an\nAction, as to aid the Rebellious Camisars, but Leaguing with the\nAdmirant de Castile, to Invade the Dominions of his Master to whom he\nswore Allegiance: Here we saw Protestants fight against Protestants,\nto help Papists, Papists against Papists to help Protestants,\nProtestants call in Turks, to keep Faith against Christians that\nbreak it: Here we could see Swedes fighting for Revenge, and call it\nReligion; Cardinals deposing their Catholick Prince, to introduce the\nTyranny of a Lutheran and call it Liberty; Armies Electing Kings, and\ncall it Free Choice; French conquering Savoy, to secure the Liberty\nof Italy.\n3. The Map of State Policy contains abundance of Civil Transactions,\nno where to be discover'd but in this wonderful Country, and by this\nprodigious Invention: As first, it shows an Eminent Prelate running\nin every body's Debt to relieve the Poor, and bring to God Robbery\nfor Burnt-Offering: It opens a Door to the Fate of Nations; and there\nwe might see the Duke of S--y bought three times, and his subjects\nsold every time; Portugal bought twice, and neither time worth the\nEarnest; Spain bought once, but loth to go with the Bidder; Venice\nwilling to be Bought, if there had been any Buyers; Bavaria Bought,\nand run away with the Money; the Emperor Bought and Sold, but Bilkt\nthe Chapman; the French buying Kingdoms he can't keep, the Dutch keep\nKingdoms they never Bought; and the English paying their Money\nwithout Purchase.\nIn Matters of Civil Concerns, here was to be seen Religion with no\nout-side, and much Out-side with no Religion, much Strife about\nPeace, and no Peace in the Design: Here was Plunder without Violence,\nViolence without Persecution, Conscience without Good Works, and Good\nWorks without Charity; Parties cutting one anothers Throats for God's\nSake, pulling down Churches de propoganda fide, and making Divisions\nby way of Association.\nHere we have Peace and Union brought to pass The Shortest Way,\nExtirpation and Destruction prov'd to be the Road to Plenty and\nPleasure: Here all the Wise Nations, a Learned Author would have\nQuoted, if he could have found them, are to be seen, who carry on\nExclusive Laws to the general Safety and Satisfaction of their\nSubjects.\nOccasional Bills may have here a particular Historical, Categorical\nDescription: But of them by themselves.\nHere you might have the Rise, Original, Lawfulness, Usefulness, and\nNecessity of Passive Obedience, as fairly represented as a System of\nDivinity, and as clearly demonstrated as by a Geographical\nDescription; and which exceeds our mean Understanding here, 'tis by\nthe wonderful Assistance of these Glasses, plainly discerned to be\nCoherent with Resistance, taking Arms, calling in Foreign Powers, and\nthe like. --- Here you have a plain Discovery of C. of E. Politicks,\nand a Map of Loyalty: Here 'tis as plainly demonstrated as the Nose\nin a Man's Face, provided he has one, that a Man may Abdicate, drive\naway, and Dethrone his Prince, and yet be absolutely and intirely\nfree from, and innocent of the least Fracture, Breach, Incroachment,\nor Intrenchment, upon the Doctrine of Non-Resistance: Can shoot at\nhis Prince without any Design to kill him, fight against him without\nraising Rebellion, and take up Arms, without leaving War against his\nPrince.\nHere they can persecute Dissenters, without desiring they should\nConform, conform to the Church they would overthrow; Pray for the\nPrince they dare not Name, and Name the Prince they do not pray for.\nBy the help of these Glasses strange Insights are made, into the vast\nmysterious dark World of State Policy; but that which is yet more\nstrange, and requires vast Volumes to descend to the Particulars of,\nand huge Diagrams, Spheres, Charts, and a Thousand nice things to\ndisplay is, That in this vast Intelligent Discovery it is not only\nmade plain, that those things are so, but all the vast Contradictions\nare made Rational, reconciled to Practice, and brought down to\nDemonstration.\nGerman Clock-Work, the perpetual Motions, the Prim Mobilies of Our\nshort-sighted World, are Trifles to these Nicer Disquisitions.\nHere it would be plain and rational, why a Parliament-Man will spend\n5000 l. to be Chosen, that cannot get a Groat Honestly by setting\nthere: It would be easily made out to be rational, why he that rails\nmost at a Court is soonest receiv'd into it: Here it would be very\nplain, how great Estates are got in little Places, and Double in none\nat all. 'Tis easy to be prov'd honest and faithful to Victual the\nFrench Fleet out of English Stores, and let our own Navy want them; a\nlong Sight, or a large Lunar Perspective, will make all these things\nnot only plain in Fact, but Rational and Justifiable to all the World.\n'Tis a strange thing to any body without doubt, that has not been in\nthat clear-sighted Region, to comprehend, That those we call\nHigh-flyers in England are the only Friends to the Dissenters, and\nhave been the most Diligent and Faithful in their Interest, of any\nPeople in the Nation; and yet so it is, Gentlemen, and they ought to\nhave the Thanks of the whole Body for it.\nIn this advanc'd Station, we see it plainly by Reflexion, That the\nDissenters, like a parcel of Knaves, have retained all the\nHigh-Church-men in their Pay; they are certainly all in their\nPension-Roll: Indeed, I could not see the Money paid them there, it\nwas too remote; but I could plainly see the thing; all the deep Lines\nof the Project are laid as true, they are so Tackt and Consolidated\ntogether, that if any one will give themselves leave to consider,\nthey will be most effectually convinced, That the High-Church and the\nDissenters here, are all in a Caball, a meer Knot, a piece of\nClock-work; the Dissenters are the Dial-Plate, and the High-Church\nthe Movement, the Wheel within the Wheels, the Spring and the Screw\nto bring all things to Motion, and make the Hand on the Dial-plate\npoint which way the Dissenters please.\nFor what else have been all the Shams they have put upon the\nGovernments, Kings, States, and People they have been concern'd with?\nWhat Schemes have they laid on purpose to be broken? What vast\nContrivances, on purpose to be ridicul'd and expos'd? The Men are not\nFools, they had never V---d to Consolidate a B--- but that they were\nwilling to save the Dissenters, and put it into a posture, in which\nthey were sure it would miscarry. I defy all the Wise Men of the Moon\nto show another good reason for it.\nMethinks I begin to pity my Brethren, the moderate Men of the Church,\nthat they cannot see into this New Plot, and to wish they would but\nget up into our Consolidator, and take a Journey to the Moon, and\nthere, by the help of these Glasses, they would see the Allegorical,\nSymbollical, Hetrodoxicallity of all this Matter; it would make\nimmediate Converts of them; they would see plainly, that to Tack and\nConsolidate, to make Exclusive Laws, to persecute for Conscience,\ndisturb, and distress Parties; these are all Phanatick Plots, meer\nCombinations against the Church, to bring her into Contempt, and to\nfix and establish the Dissenters to the end of the Chapter: But of\nthis I shall find occasion to speak Occasionally, when an Occasion\npresents it self, to examine a certain Occasional Bill, transacting\nin these Lunar Regions, some time before I had the Happiness to\narrive there.\nIn examining the Multitude and Variety of these most admirable\nGlasses for the assisting the Opticks, or indeed the Formation of a\nnew perceptive Faculty; it was you may be sure most surprizing to\nfind there, that Art had exceeded Nature; and the Power of Vision was\nassisted to that prodigious Degree, as even to distinguish Non-Entity\nit self; and in these strange Engines of Light it could not but be\nvery pleasing, to distinguish plainly betwixt Being and Matter, and\nto come to a Determination, in the so long Canvast Dispute of\nSubstance, vel Materialis, vel Spiritualis; and I can solidly affirm,\nThat in all our Contention between Entity and Non-Entity, there is so\nlittle worth meddling with, that had we had these Glasses some Ages\nago, we should have left troubling our heads with it.\nI take upon me, therefore, to assure my Reader, That whoever pleases\nto take a Journey, or Voyage, or Flight up to these Lunar Regions, as\nsoon as ever he comes ashoar there, will presently be convinc'd, of\nthe Reasonableness of Immaterial Substance, and the Immortality, as\nwell as Immateriality of the Soul: He will no sooner look into these\nExplicating Glasses, but he will be-able to know the separate meaning\nof Body, Soul, Spirit, Life, Motion, Death, and a Thousand things\nthat Wise-men puzzle themselves about here, because they are not\nFools enough to understand.\nHere too I find Glasses for the Second Sight, as our Old Women call\nit. This Second Sight has been often pretended to in Our Regions, and\nsome Famous Old Wives have told us, they can see Death, the Soul,\nFuturity, and the Neighbourhood of them, in the Countenance: By this\nwonderful Art, these good People unfold strange Mysteries, as under\nsome Irrecoverable Disease, to foretell Death; under Hypocondriack\nMelancholy, to presage Trouble of Mind; in pining Youth, to predict\nContagious Love; and an Hundred other Infallibilities, which never\nfail to be true as soon as ever they come to pass, and are all\ngrounded upon the same Infallibility, by which a Shepherd may always\nknow when any one of his Sheep is Rotten, viz. when he shakes himself\nto pieces.\nBut all this Guess and Uncertainty is a Trifle, to the vast\nDiscoveries of these Explicatory Optick-Glasses; for here are seen\nthe Nature and Consequences of Secret Mysteries: Here are read\nstrange Mysteries relating to Predestination, Eternal Decrees, and\nthe like: Here 'tis plainly prov'd, That Predestination is, in spight\nof all Enthusiastick Pretences, so intirely committed into Man's\nPower, that whoever pleases to hang himself to Day, won't Live till\nto Morrow: no, though Forty Predestination Prophets were to tell him,\nHis time was not yet come. There abstruse Points are commonly and\nsolemnly Discuss'd here; and these People are such Hereticks, that\nthey say God's Decrees are all subservient to the means of his\nProvidence; That what we call Providence is a subjecting all things\nto the great Chain of Causes and Consequences, by which that one\nGrand Decree, That all Effects shall Obey, without reserve to their\nproper moving Causes, supercedes all subsequent Doctrines, or\npretended Decrees, or Predestination in the World: That by this Rule,\nhe that will kill himself, GOD, Nature, Providence, or Decree, will\nnot be concern'd to hinder him, but he shall Die; any Decrees,\nPredestination, or Fore-Knowledge of Infinite Power, to the contrary\nin any wise, notwithstanding that it is in a Man's Power to throw\nhimself into the Water, and be Drown'd; and to kill another Man, and\nhe shall Die, and to say, God appointed it, is to make him the Author\nof Murther, and to injure the Murtherer in putting him to Death for\nwhat he could not help doing.\nAll these things are received Truths here, and no doubt would be so\nevery where else, if the Eyes of Reason were opened to the Testimony\nof Nature, or if they had the helps of these most Incomparable\nGlasses.\nSome pretended, by the help of these Second-sight Glasses, to see the\ncommon Periods of Life; and Others said, they could see a great way\nbeyond the leap in the Dark: I confess, all I could see of the first\nwas, that holding up the Glass against the Sea, I plainly saw, as it\nwere on the edge of the Horizon, these Words,\n  The Verge of Life and Death is here.\n  'Tis best to know where 'tis, but not how far.\nAs to seeing beyond Death, all the Glasses I lookt into for that\npurpose, made but little of it; and these were the only Tubes that I\nfound Defective; for here I could discern nothing but Clouds, Mists,\nand thick dark hazy Weather; but revolving in my Mind, that I had\nread a certain Book in our own Country, called, Nature; it presently\noccurr'd, That the Conclusion of it, to all such as gave themselves\nthe trouble of making out those foolish things call'd Inferences,\nwas always Look up; upon which, turning one of their Glasses Up, and\nerecting the Point of it towards the Zenith, I saw these Words in the\nAir, REVELATION, in large Capital Letters.\nI had like to have rais'd the Mob upon me for looking upright with\nthis Glass; for this, they said, was prying into the Mysteries of the\nGreat Eye of the World; That we ought to enquire no farther than he\nhas inform'd us, and to believe what he had left us more Obscure:\nUpon this, I laid down the Glasses, and concluded, that we had Moses\nand the Prophets, and should be never the likelier to be taught by\nOne come from the Moon.\nIn short, I found, indeed, they had a great deal more Knowledge of\nthings than we in this World; and that Nature, Science, and Reason,\nhad obtained great Improvements in the Lunar World; but as to\nReligion, it was the same equally resign'd to and concluded in Faith\nand Redemption; so I shall give the World no great Information of\nthese things.\nI come next to some other strange Acquirements obtained by the\nhelps of these Glasses; and particularly for the discerning the\nImperceptibles of Nature; such as, the Soul, Thought, Honesty,\nReligion, Virginity, and an Hundred other nice things, too small\nfor humane Discerning.\nThe Discoveries made by these Glasses, as to the Soul, are of a very\ndiverting Variety; some Hieroglyphical, and Emblematical, and some\nDemonstrative.\nThe Hieroglyphical Discoveries of the Soul make it appear in the\nImage of its Maker; and the Analogy is remarkable, even in the very\nSimily; for as they represent the Original of Nature as One Great\nEye, illuminating as well as discerning all things; so the Soul,\nin its Allegorical, or Hieroglyphical Resemblance, appears as a\nGreat Eye, embracing the Man, enveloping, operating, and informing\nevery Part; from whence those sort of People who we falsly call\nPoliticians, acting so much to put out this Great Eye, by acting\nagainst their common Understandings, are very aptly represented by a\ngreat Eye, with Six or Seven pair of Spectacles on; not but that the\nEye of their Souls may be clear enough of it self, as to the common\nUnderstanding; but that they happen to have occasion to look\nsometimes so many ways at once, and to judge, conclude, and\nunderstand so many contrary ways upon one and the same thing; that\nthey are fain to put double Glasses upon their Understanding, as we\nlook at the Solar Ecclipses, to represent 'em in different Lights,\nleast their Judgments should not be wheadled into a Compliance with\nthe Hellish Resolutions of their Wills; and this is what I call the\nEmblematick Representation of the Soul.\nAs for the Demonstrations of the Soul's Existence, 'tis a plain case,\nby these Explicative Glasses, that it is, some have pretended to give\nus the Parts; and we have heard of Chyrurgeons, that could read an\nAnatomical Lecture on the Parts Of the Soul; and these pretend it to\nbe a Creature in form, whether Camelion or Salamandar, Authors have\nnot determin'd; nor is it compleatly discover'd when it comes into\nthe Body, or how it goes out, or where its Locality or Habitation is,\nwhile 'tis a Resident.\nBut they very aptly show it, like a Prince, in his Seat, in the\nmiddle of his Palace the Brain, issuing out his incessant Orders\nto innumerable Troops of Nerves, Sinews, Muscles, Tendons, Veins,\nArteries, Fibres, Capilaris, and useful Officers, call'd Organici,\nwho faithfully execute all the Parts of Sensation, Locomotion,\nConcoction, &c. and in the Hundred Thousandth part of a Moment,\nreturn with particular Messages for Information, and demand New\nInstructions. If any part of his Kingdom, the Body, suffers a\nDepredation, or an Invasion of the Enemy, the Expresses fly to the\nSeat of the Soul, the Brain, and immediately are order'd back to\nsmart, that the Body may of course send more Messengers to complain;\nimmediately other Expresses are dispatcht to the Tongue, with Orders\nto cry out, that the Neighbours may come in and help, or Friends send\nfor the Chyrurgeon: Upon the Application, and a Cure, all is quiet,\nand the same Expresses are dispatcht to the Tongue to be hush, and\nsay no more of it till farther Orders: All this is as plain to be\nseen in these Engines, as the Moon of Our World from the World in\nthe Moon.\nAs the Being, Nature, and Scituation of humane Soul is thus\nSpherically and Mathematically discover'd, I could not find any\nSecond Thoughts about it in all their Books, whether of their own\nComposition or by Translation; for it was a General received Notion,\nThat there could not be a greater Absurdity in humane Knowledge, than\nto imploy the Thoughts in Questioning, what is as plainly known by\nits Consequences, as if seen with the Eye; and that to doubt the\nBeing or Extent of the Soul's Operation, is to imploy her against her\nself; and therefore, when I began to argue with my Old Philosopher,\nagainst the Materiality and Immortality of this Mystery we call Soul,\nhe laught at me, and told me, he found we had none of their Glasses\nin our World; and bid me send all our Scepticks, Soul-Sleepers, our\nCowards, Bakers, Kings and Bakewells, up to him into the Moon, if\nthey wanted Demonstrations; where, by the help of their Engines,\nthey would make it plain to them, that the Great Eye being one vast\nIntellect, Infinite and Eternal, all Inferior Life is a Degree of\nhimself, and as exactly represents him as one little Flame the\nwhole Mass of Fire; That it is therefore uncapable of Dissolution,\nbeing like its Original in Duration, as well as in its Powers and\nFaculties, but that it goes and returns by Emission, Regression, as\nthe Great Eye governs and determines; and this was plainly made out,\nby the Figure I had seen it in, viz. an Eye, the exact Image of its\nMaker: 'Tis true, it was darkened by Ignorance, Folly and Crime, and\ntherefore oblig'd to wear Spectacles; but tho' these were Defects or\nInterruptions in its Operation, they were none in its Nature; which\nas it had its immediate Efflux from the Great Eye, and its return to\nhim must partake of himself, and could not but be of a Quality\nuncomatable, by Casualty or Death.\nFrom this Discourse we the more willingly adjourned our present\nThoughts, I being clearly convinced of the Matter; and as for our\nLearned Doctors, with their Second and Third Thoughts, I told him\nI would recommend them to the Man in the Moon for their farther\nIllumination, which if they refuse to accept, it was but just they\nshould remain in a Wood, where they are, and are like to be, puzzling\nthemselves about Demonstrations, squaring of Circles, and converting\noblique into right Angles, to bring out a Mathematical Clock-Work\nSoul, that will go till the Weight is down, and then stand still till\nthey know not who must wind it up again.\nHowever, I cannot pass over a very strange and extraordinary piece of\nArt which this Old Gentleman inform'd me of, and that was an Engine\nto screw a Man into himself: Perhaps our Country-men may be at some\nDifficulty to comprehend these things by my dull Description; and to\nsuch I cannot but recommend, a Journey in my Engine to the Moon.\nThis Machine that I am speaking of, contains a multitude of strange\nSprings and Screws, and a Man that puts himself into it, is very\ninsensibly carried into vast Speculations, Reflexions, and regular\nDebates with himself: They have a very hard Name for it in those\nParts; but if I were to give it an English Name, it should be call'd,\nThe Cogitator, or the Chair of Reflection.\nAnd First, The Person that is seated here feels some pain in passing\nsome Negative Springs, that are wound up, effectually to shut out\nall Injecting, Disturbing Thoughts; and the better to prepare him for\nthe Operation that is to follow, and this is without doubt a very\nrational way; for when a Man can absolutely shut out all manner of\nthinking, but what he is upon, he shall think the more Intensly upon\nthe one object before him.\nThis Operation past, here are certain Screws that draw direct Lines\nfrom every Angle of the Engine to the Brain of the Man, and at the\nsame time, other direct Lines to his Eyes; at the other end of which\nLines, there are Glasses which convey or reflect the Objects the\nPerson is desirous to think upon.\nThen the main Wheels are turn'd, which wind up according to their\nseveral Offices; this the Memory, that the Understanding; a third the\nWill, a fourth the thinking Faculty; and these being put all into\nregular Motions, pointed by direct Lines to their proper Objects,\nand perfectly uninterrupted by the Intervention of Whimsy, Chimera,\nand a Thousand fluttering Damons that Gender in the Fancy, but are\neffectually Lockt out as before, assist one another to receive right\nNotions, and form just Ideas of the things they are directed to, and\nfrom thence the Man is impower'd to make right Conclusions, to think\nand act like himself, suitable to the sublime Qualities his Soul was\noriginally blest with.\nThere never was a Man went into one of these thinking Engines, but he\ncame wiser out than he was before; and I am persuaded, it would be a\nmore effectual Cure to our Deism, Atheism, Scepticism, and all other\nScisms, than ever the Italian's Engine, for Curing the Gout by\ncutting off the Toe.\nThis is a most wonderful Engine, and performs admirably, and my\nAuthor gave me extraordinary Accounts of the good Effects of it; and\nI cannot but tell my Reader, That our Sublunar World suffers Millions\nof Inconveniencies, for want of this thinking Engine: I have had a\ngreat many Projects in my Head, how to bring our People to regular\nthinking, but 'tis in vain without this Engin; and how to get the\nModel of it I know not; how to screw up the Will, the Understanding,\nand the rest of the Powers; how to bring the Eye, the Thought, the\nFancy, and the Memory, into Mathematical Order, and obedient to\nMechanick Operation; help Boyl, Norris, Newton, Manton, Hammond,\nTillotson, and all the Learned Race, help Phylosophy, Divinity,\nPhysicks, Oeconomicks, all's in vain, a Mechanick Chair of Reflection\nis the only Remedy that ever I found in my Life for this Work.\nAs to the Effects of Mathematical thinking, what Volumes might be\nwrit of it will more easily appear, if we consider the wondrous\nUsefulness of this Engine in all humane Affairs; as of War, Peace,\nJustice, Injuries, Passion, Love, Marriage, Trade, Policy, and\nReligion.\nWhen a Man has been screw'd into himself, and brought by this Art to\na Regularity of Thought, he never commits any Absurdity after it; his\nActions are squared by the same Lines, for Action is but the\nConsequence of Thinking; and he that acts before he thinks, sets\nhumane Nature with the bottom upward.\nM. would never have made his Speech, nor the famous B----ly wrote a\nBook, if ever they had been in this thinking Engine: One would have\nnever told us of Nations he never saw, nor the other told us, he had\nseen a great many, and was never the Wiser.\nH. had never ruin'd his Family to Marry Whore, Thief and\nBeggar-Woman, in one Salliant Lady, after having been told so\nhonestly, and so often of it by the very Woman her self.\nOur late unhappy Monarch had never trusted the English Clergy, when\nthey preacht up that Non-Resistance, which he must needs see they\ncould never Practice; had his Majesty been screw'd up into this\nCogitator, he had presently reflected, that it was against Nature to\nexpect they should stand still, and let him tread upon them: That\nthey should, whatever they had preacht or pretended to, hold open\ntheir Throats to have them be cut, and tye their own Hands from\nresisting the Lord's Anointed.\nHad some of our Clergy been screw'd in this Engine, they had never\nturned Martyrs for their Allegiance to the Late King, only for the\nLechery of having Dr. S------- in their Company.\nHad our Merchants been manag'd in this Engine, they had never trusted\ntheir Turkey Fleet with a famous Squadron, that took a great deal of\ncare to Convoy them safe into the Enemies Hands.\nHad some People been in this Engine, when they had made a certain\nLeague in the World, in order to make amends for a better made\nbefore, they would certainly have consider'd farther, before they had\nembarkt with a Nation, that are neither fit to go abroad nor stay at\nHome.\nAs for the Thinking practis'd in Noble Speeches, Occasional Bills,\nAddressings about Prerogative, Convocation Disputes, Turnings in and\nTurnings out at Ours, and all the Courts of Christendom, I have\nnothing to say to it.\nHad the Duke of Bavaria been in our Engine, he would never have begun\na Quarrel, which he knew all the Powers of Europe were concern'd to\nsuppress, and lay all other Business down till it was done.\nHad the Elector of Saxony past the Operation of this Engine, he would\nnever have beggar'd a Rich Electorate, to ruin a beggar'd Crown, nor\nsold himself for a Kingdom hardly worth any Man's taking: He would\nnever have made himself less than he was, in hopes of being really no\ngreater; and stept down from a Protestant Duke, and Imperial Elector,\nto be a Nominal Mock King with a shadow of Power, and a Name without\nhonour, Dignity or Strength.\nHad Mons. Tallard been in our Engine, he would not only not have\nattackt the Confederates when they past the Morass and Rivulet in his\nFront, but not have attackt them at all, nor have suffer'd them to\nhave attackt him, it being his Business not to have fought at all,\nbut have linger'd out the War, till the Duke of Savoy having been\nreduced, the Confederate Army must have been forced to have divided\nthemselves of course, in order to defend their own.\nSome that have been very forward to have us proceed The Shortest\nWay with the Scots, may be said to stand in great need of this Chair\nof Reflection, to find out a just Cause for such a War, and to make\na Neighbour-Nation making themselves secure, a sufficient Reason\nfor another Neighbour-Nation to fall upon them: Our Engine would\npresently show it them in a clear sight, by way of Paralel, that 'tis\njust with the fame Right as a Man may break open a House, because the\nPeople bar and bolt the Windows.\nIf some-body has chang'd Hands there from bad to worse, and open'd\ninstead of closing Differences in those Cases, the Cogitator migyt\nhave brought them, by more regular Thinking, to have known that was\nnot at all the Method of bringing the S---s to Reason.\nOur Cogitator would be a very necessary thing to show some People,\nThat Poverty and Weakness is not a sufficient Ground to oppress a\nNation, and their having but little Trade, cannot be a sufficient\nGround to equip Fleets to take away what they have.\nI cannot deny, that I have often thought they have had something\nof this Engine in our Neighbouring Antient Kingdom, since no Man,\nhowever we pretend to be angry, but will own they are in the right\nof it, as to themselves, to Vote and procure Bills for their own\nSecurity, and not to do as others demand without Conditions fit to\nbe accepted: But of that by it self.\nThere are abundance of People in Our World, of all sorts and\nConditions, that stand in need of our thinking Engines, and to be\nscrew'd into themselves a little, that they might think as directly\nas they speak absurdly: But of these also in a Class by it self.\nThis Engine has a great deal of Philosophy in it; and particularly,\n'tis a wonderful Remedy against Poreing; and as it was said of Mons.\nJurieu at Amsterdam, that he us'd to lose himself in himself; by the\nAssistance of this piece of Regularity, a Man is most effectually\nsecur'd against bewildring Thoughts, and by direct thinking, he\nprevents all manner of dangerous wandring, since nothing can come to\nmore speedy Conclusions, than that which in right Lines, points to\nthe proper Subject of Debate.\nAll sorts of Confusion of Thoughts are perfectly avoided and\nprevented in this case, and a Man is never troubled with Spleen,\nHyppo, or Mute Madness, when once he has been thus under the\nOperation of the Screw: It prevents abundance of Capital Disasters\nin Men, in private Affairs; it prevents hasty Marriages, rash Vows,\nDuels, Quarrels, Suits at Law, and most sorts of Repentance. In the\nState, it saves a Government from many Inconveniences; it checks\nimmoderate Ambition, stops Wars, Navies and Expeditions; especially\nit prevents Members making long Speeches when they have nothing to\nsay; it keeps back Rebellions, Insurrections, Clashings of Houses,\nOccasional Bills, Tacking, &c.\nIt has a wonderful Property in our Affairs at Sea, and has prevented\nmany a Bloody Fight, in which a great many honest Men might have lost\ntheir Lives that are now useful Fellows, and help to Man and manage\nHer Majesty's Navy.\nWhat if some People are apt to charge Cowardice upon some People in\nthose Cases? 'Tis plain that cannot be it, for he that dare incur the\nResentment of the English Mob, shows more Courage than would be able\nto carry him through Forty Sea-fights.\n'Tis therefore for want of being in this Engine, that we censure\nPeople, because they don't be knocking one another on the Head, like\nthe People at the Bear-Garden; where, if they do not see the Blood\nrun about, they always cry out, A Cheat; and the poor Fellows are\nfain to cut one another, that they may not be pull'd a pieces; where\nthe Case is plain, they are bold for fear, and pull up Courage enough\nto Fight, because they are afraid of the People.\nThis Engine prevents all sorts of Lunacies, Love-Frenzies, and\nMelancholy-Madness, for preserving the Thought in right Lines to\ndirect Objects, it is impossible any Deliriums, Whimsies, or\nfluttering Air of Ideas, can interrupt the Man, he can never be Mad;\nfor which reason I cannot but recommend it to my Lord S---, my Lord\nN---, and my Lord H-----, as absolutely necesssary to defend them\nfrom the State-Madness, which for some Ages has possest their\nFamilies, and which runs too much in the Blood.\nIt is also an excellent Introduction to Thought, and therefore very\nwell adapted to those People whose peculiar Talent and Praise is,\nThat they never think at all. Of these, if his Grace of B---d would\nplease to accept Advice from the Man in the Moon, it should be to put\nhimself into this Engine, as a Soveraign Cure to the known Disease\ncall'd the Thoughtless Evil.\nBut above all, it is an excellent Remedy, and very useful to a sort\nof People, who are always Travelling in Thought, but never Deliver'd\ninto Action; who are so exceeding busy at Thinking, they have no\nleisure for Action; of whom the late Poet sung well to the purpose;\n  ---- Some modern Coxcombs, who\n  Retire to Think, 'cause they have nought to do;\n  For Thoughts were giv'n for Actions Government,\n  Where Action ceases, Thought Impertinent:\n  The Sphere of Action is Life's Happiness,\n  And he that Thinks beyond, Thinks like an Ass.\nThese Gentlemen would make excellent use of this Engine, for it would\nteach 'em to dispatch one thing before they begin another; and\ntherefore is of singular use to honest S----, whose peculiar it was,\nto be always beginning Projects, but never finish any.\nThe Variety of this Engine, its Uses, and Improvements, are\nInnumerable, and the Reader must not expect I can give any thing like\na perfect Description of it.\nThere are yet another sort of Machine, which I never obtained a sight\nof, till the last Voyage I made to this Lunar Orb, and these are\ncalled Elevators: The Mechanick Operations of these are wonderful,\nand helpt by Fire; by which the Sences are raised to all the strange\nExtreames we can imagine, and whereby the Intelligent Soul is made to\nconverse with its own Species, whether embody'd or not.\nThose that are rais'd to a due pitch in this wondrous Frame, have a\nclear Prospect into the World of Spirits, and converse with Visions,\nGuardian-Angels, Spirits departed, and what not: And as this is a\nwonderful Knowledge, and not to be obtained, but by the help of this\nFire; so those that have try'd the Experiment, give strange Accounts\nof Sympathy, Prexistence of Souls, Dreams, and the like.\nI confess, I always believ'd a converse of Spirits, and have heard of\nsome who have experienced so much of it, as they could obtain upon no\nBody else to believe.\nI never saw any reason to doubt the Existent State of the Spirit\nbefore embody'd, any more than I did of its Immortality after it\nshall be uncas'd, and the Scriptures saying, the Spirit returns to\nGod that gave it, implies a coming from, or how could it be call'd a\nreturn.\nNor can I see a reason why Embodying a Spirit should altogether\nInterrupt its Converse with the World of Spirits, from whence it was\ntaken; and to what else shall we ascribe Guardian Angels, in which\nthe Scripture is also plain; and from whence come Secret Notices,\nImpulse of Thought, pressing Urgencies of Inclination, to or from\nthis or that altogether Involuntary; but from some waking kind\nAssistant wandring Spirit, which gives secret hints to its\nFellow-Creature, of some approaching Evil or Good, which it was not\nable to foresee.\nFor Spirits without the helps of Voice converse.\nI know we have supplied much of this with Enthusiasm and conceited\nRevelation; but the People of this World convince us, that it may be\nall Natural, by obtaining it in a Mechanick way, viz. by forming\nsomething suitable to the sublime Nature, which working by Art, shall\nonly rectify the more vigorous Particles of the Soul, and work it up\nto a suitable Elevation. This Engine is wholly applied to the Head,\nand Works by Injection; the chief Influence being on what we call\nFancy, or Imagination, which by the heat of strong Ideas, is\nfermented to a strange heighth, and is thus brought to see backward\nand forward every way, beyond it self: By this a Man fancies himself\nin the Moon, and realizes things there as distinctly, as if he was\nactually talking to my Old Phylosopher.\nThis indeed is an admirable Engine, 'tis compos'd of an Hundred\nThousand rational Consequences, Five times the number of Conjectures,\nSupposes, and Probabilities, besides an innumerable Company of\nfluttering Suggestions, and Injections, which hover round the\nImagination, and are all taken in as fast as they can be Concocted\nand Digested there: These are form'd into Ideas, and some of those so\nwell put together, so exactly shap'd, so well drest and set out by\nthe Additional Fire of Fancy, that it is no uncommon thing for the\nPerson to be intirely deceived by himself, not knowing the brat of\nhis own Begetting, nor be able to distinguish between Reality and\nRepresentation: From hence we have some People talking to Images of\ntheir own forming, and seeing more Devils and Spectres than ever\nappear'd: From hence we have weaker Heads not able to bear the\nOperation, seeing imperfect Visions, as of Horses and Men without\nHeads or Arms, Light without Fire, hearing Voices without Sound, and\nNoises without Shapes, as their own Fears or Fancies broke the\nPhanomena before the intire Formation.\nBut the more Genuine and perfect Use of these vast Elevations of the\nFancy, which are perform'd, as I said, by the Mechanick Operation of\nInnate Fire, is to guide Mankind to as much Fore-sight of things, as\neither by Nature, or by the Aid of any thing Extranatural, may be\nobtain'd; and by this exceeding Knowledge, a Man shall forebode to\nhimself approaching Evil or Good, so as to avoid this, or be in the\nway of that; and what if I should say, That the Notices of these\nthings are not only frequent, but constant, and require nothing of\nus, but to make use of this Elevator, to keep our Eyes, our Ears,\nand our Fancies open to the hints; and observe them;\nYou may suppose me, if you please, come by this time into those\nNorthern Kingdoms I mention'd before, where my Old Philosopher was a\nNative, and not to trouble you with any of the needful Observations,\nLearned Inscriptions, &c. on the way, according to the laudable\npractices of the Famous Mr. Br---mly, 'tis sufficient to tell you\nI found there an Opulent, Populous, Potent and Terrible People.\nI found them at War with one of the greatest Monarchs of the Lunar\nWorld, and at the same time miserably rent and torn, mangl'd and\ndisorder'd among themselves.\nAs soon as I observ'd the Political posture of their Affairs, (for\nhere a Man sees things mighty soon by the helps of such a Masterly\nEye-sight as I have mention'd) and remembring what is said for our\nInstruction, That a Kingdom divided against its self cannot stand; I\nask'd the Old Gentleman if he had any Estate in that Country? He told\nme, no great matter; but ask'd me why I put that Question to him?\nBecause, said I, if this People go on fighting and snarling at all\nthe World, and one among another in this manner, they will certainly\nbe Ruin'd and Undone, either subdu'd by some more powerful Neighbour;\nwhilst one Party will stand still and see the t'others Throat cut,\ntho' their own Turn immediately follows, or else they will destroy\nand devour one another. Therefore I told him I would have him Turn\nhis Estate into Money, and go some where else; or go back to the\nother World with me.\nNo, no, reply'd the Old Man, I am in no such Fear at this Time, the\nScale of Affairs is very lately chang'd here, says he, in but a very\nfew Years.\nI know nothing of that, said I, but I am sure there never was but\none spot of Ground in that World which I came from, that was divided\nlike them, and that's that very Country I liv'd in. Here are three\nKingdoms of you in one spot, said I, One has already been Conquer'd\nand Subdu'd, the t'other suppres'd its Native lnhabitants, and\nplanted it with her own, and now carries it with so high a Hand over\nthem of her own Breed, that she limits their Trade, stops their\nPorts, when the Inhabitants have made their Manufactures, these wont\ngive them leave to send them abroad, impose Laws upon them, refuse to\nalter and amend those they would make for themselves, make them pay\nCustoms, Excises, and Taxes, and yet pay the Garrisons and Guards\nthat defend them, themselves; Press their Inhabitants to their\nFleets, and carry away their Old Veteran Troops that should defend\nthem, and leave them to raise more to be serv'd in the same manner,\nwill let none of their Mony be carry'd over thither, nor let them\nCoin any of their own; and a great many such hardships they suffer\nunder the Hand of this Nation as meer Slaves and Conquer'd People,\ntho' the greatest part of the Traders are the People of the very\nNation that treats 'em thus.\nOn the other hand, this creates Eternal Murmurs, Heart-burnings and\nRegret, both in the Natives and the Transplanted Inhabitants; the\nfirst have shewn their Uneasiness by frequent Insurrections and\nRebellions, for Nature prompts the meanest Animal to struggle for\nLiberty; and these struggles have often been attended with great\nCruelty, Ravages, Death, Massacres, and Ruin both of Families and the\nCountry it self: As to the Transplanted Inhabitants, they run into\nClandestine Trade, into corresponding with their Masters Enemies,\nVictualling their Navies, Colonies and the like, receiving and\nimporting their Goods in spight of all the Orders and Directions\nto the contrary.\nThese are the effects of Divisions, and Feuds on that side; on the\nother hand there is a Kingdom Entire Unconquer'd and Independent, and\nfor the present, under the same Monarch with the rest.---- But here\ntheir Feuds are greater than with the other, and more dangerous by\nfar because National: This Kingdom joins to the North part of the\nfirst Kingdom, and Terrible Divisions ly among the two Nations.\nThe People of these two Kingdoms are call'd if you please for\ndistinction sake, for I cannot well make you understand their hard\nNames, Solunarians and Nolunarians, these to the South and those\nto the North, the Solunarians were divided in their Articles of\nReligion; the Governing Party, or the Establish'd Church, I shall\ncall the Solunarian Church; but the whole Kingdom was full of a sort\nof Religious People call'd Crolians, who like our Dissenters in\nEngland profess divers sub-divided Opinions by themselves, and cou'd\nnot, or wou'd not, let it go which way it will, joyn with the\nEstablish'd Church.\nOn the other hand, the Establish'd Church in the Northern Kingdom\nwas all Crolians, but full of Solunarians in Opinions, who were\nDissenters there, as the Crolians were Dissenters in the South,\nand this unhappy mixture occasion'd endless Feuds, Divisions,\nSub-divisions and Animosities without Number, of which hereafter.\nThe Northern Men are Bold, Terrible Numerous and Brave, to the last\nDegree, but Poor, and by the Encroachments of their Neighbours,\ngrowing poorer every Day.\nThe Southern are equally Brave, more Numerous and Terrible, but\nWealthy and care not for Wars, had rather stay at Home and Quarrel\nwith one another, than go Abroad to Fight, making good an Old Maxim,\nToo Poor t'Agree, and yet too Rich to Fight.\nBetween these the Feud is great, and every Day growing greater; and\nthose People who pretend to have been in the Cogitator or thinking\nEngine tell us, all the lines of Consequences in that Affair point at\na fatal period between the Kingdoms.\nThe Complaints also are great, and back'd with fiery Arguments on\nboth sides; the Northern Men say, the Solunarians have dealt unjustly\nand unkindly by them in several Articles; but the Southern Men reply\nwith a most powerful Argument, viz. they are Poor, and therefore\nought to be Oppress'd, Suppress'd, or any thing.\nBut the main Debate is like to lye upon the Article of Choosing a\nKing; both the Nations being under one Government at present, but the\nSettlement ending in the Reigning Line, the Northern Men refuse to\njoyn in Government again, unless they have a rectification of some\nConditions in which, they say, they have the worst of it.\nIn this case, even the Southern Men themselves, say, they believe\nthe Nolunarians have been in the Chair of Reflection, the thinking\nEngine, and that having screw'd their Understandings into a Direct\nPosition to that Matter before them, they have made a right Judgment\nof their own Affairs, and with all their Poverty stand on the best\nFoot as to Right.\nBut as the matter of this Northern Quarrel comes under a Second Head,\nand is more properly the Subject of a Second Voyage to the Moon; the\nReader may have it more at large consider'd in another Class, and\nsome farther Enlightnings in that Affair than perhaps can be\nreasonably expected of me here.\nBut of all the Feuds and Brangles that ever poor Nation was embroild\nin, of all the Quarrels, the Factions and Parties that ever the\nPeople of any Nation thought worth while to fall out for, none were\never in reality so light, in effect so heavy, in appearance so great,\nin substance so small, in name so terrible, in nature so trifling, as\nthose for which this Southern Country was altogether by the Ears\namong themselves.\nAnd this was one Reason why I so earnestly enquir'd of my Lunarian\nPhilosopher, whether he had an Estate in that Country or no. But\nhaving told him the Cause of that enquiry, he reply'd, there was one\nthing in the Nature of his Country-men which secur'd them from the\nruin which usually attended divided Nations, viz. that if any Foreign\nNation thinking to take the advantage of their Intestine Divisions\nfell upon them in the highest of all their Feuds, they'd lay aside\ntheir Parties and Quarrels and presently fall in together to beat out\nthe common Enemy; and then no sooner had they obtain'd Peace abroad,\nby their Conduct and Bravery, but they would fall to cutting one\nanothers Throats again at home as naturally as if it had been their\nproper Calling, and that for Trifles too, meer Trifles.\nVery well, said I to my learned Self, pretty like my own Country\nstill, that whatever Peace they have abroad, are sure to have none\nat home.\nTo come at the historical Account of these Lunarian Dissentions, it\nwill be absolutely necessary to enter a little into the Story of the\nPlace, at least as far as relates to the present Constitution, both\nof the People, the Government, and the Subject of their present\nQuarrels.\nAnd first we are to understand, that there has for some Ages been\ncarry'd on in these Countries, a private feud or quarrel among the\nPeople, about a thing call'd by them Upogyla, with us very vulgarly\ncall'd Religion.\nThis Difference, as in its Original it was not great, nor indeed\nupon Points accounted among themselves Essential, so it had never\nbeen a Difference of any height, if there had not always been\nsome one thing, or other, hapning in the State which made the\nCourt-Polititians think it necessary to keep the People busy and\nembroil'd, to prevent their more narrow Inspection into Depredations\nand Encroachments on their Liberties, which was always making on\nthem by the Court.\n'Tis not deny'd but there might be a Native want of Charity in the\nInhabitant, adapting them to Feud, and particularly qualifying them\nto be alwavs Piquing one another; and some of their own Nation, who\nby the help of the famous Perspectives before-mentioned, pretend to\nhave seen farther into the Insides of Nature and Constitution than\nother People, tell us the cross Lines of Nature which appear in the\nmake of those particular People, signify a direct Negative as to the\nArticle of Charity and good Neighbour-hood.\n'Twas particularly unhappy to this wrangling People, that Reasons\nof State should always fall in, to make that uncharitableness and\ncontinual quarrelling Humour necessary to carry on the Publick\nAffairs of the Nation, and may pass for a certain Proof, that the\nState was under some Diseases and Convulsions, which, like a Body\nthat digests nothing so well as what is hurtful to its Constitution,\nmakes use of those things for its Support, which are in their very\nNature, fatal to its being, and must at last tend to its Destruction.\nBut as this however enclin'd them to be continually Snarling at one\nanother, so as in all Quarrels it generally appears one Side must go\ndown.\nThe prevailing Party therefore always kept the Power in their Hands,\nand as the under were always Subject to the lash they soon took\ncare to hook their Quarrel into the Affairs of State, and so join\nReligious Differences, and Civil Differences together.\nThese things had long embroil'd the Nation, and frequently involv'd\nthem in bitter Enmities, Feuds, and Quarrels, and once in a tedious,\nruinous, and bloody War in their own Bowels, in which, contrary to\nall expectation, this lesser Party prevail'd.\nAnd since the allegorick Relation may bear great Similitude with\nour European Affairs on this side the Moon: I shall for the ease of\nExpression, and the better Understanding of the Reader, frequently\ncall them by the same Names our unhappy Parties are call'd by in\nEngland, as Solunnarian Churchmen, and Crolian Dissenters, at the\nsame time desiring my Reader to observe, that he is always to\nremember who it is we are talking of, and that he is by no means to\nunderstand me of any Person, Party, People, Nation, or Place on this\nside the Moon, any Expression, Circumstance, Similitude, or\nAppearance to the contrary in any wise notwithstanding.\nThis premis'd, I am to tell the Reader that the last Civil War\nin this Lunar Country ended in the Victors confounding their own\nConquests by their intestine Broils, they being as is already noted\na most Eternally Quarrelling Nation; upon this new Breach, they that\nfirst began the War, turn'd about, and pleading that they took up\nArms to regulate the Government, not to overthrow it, fell in with\nthe Family of their Kings, who had been banish'd, and one of them\ndestroy'd, and restor'd the Crown to the Family, and the Nation to\nthe Crown, just for all the World as the Presbyterians in England\ndid, in the Case of King Charles the Second.\nThe Party that was thus restor'd, accepted the return the others made\nto their Duty, and their Assistance in restoring the Family of their\nMonarch, but abated not a Tittle of the old Rancour against them as a\nParty which they entertain'd at their first taking Arms, not allowing\nthe return they had made to be any attonement at all for the Crimes\nthey had been guilty of before. 'Tis true they pass'd an Act or Grant\nof General Pardon, and Oblivion, as in all such Cases is usual, and\nas without which the other would never ha' come in, or have join'd\nPowers to form the Restoration they were bringing to pass, but\nthe old Feud of Religion continu'd with this addition, that the\nDissenters were Rebels, Murtherers, King-killers, Enemies to Monarchy\nand Civil Government, lovers of Confusion, popular, anarchial\nGovernments, and movers of Sedition; that this was in their very\nNature and Principles, and the like.\nIn this Condition, and under these Mortifications this Party of\nPeople liv'd just an Egyptian Servitude, viz. of 40 Years, in\nwhich time they were frequently vex'd with Persecution, Harass'd,\nPlunder'd, Fin'd, Imprisoned, and very hardly Treated, insomuch that\nthey pretend to be able to give an account of vast Sums of their\nCountry-Mony, levy'd upon them on these Occasions, amounting as I\ntake it to 2 Millions of Lunatians, a Coin they keep their Accounts\nby there, and much about the value of our Pound Sterling; besides\nthis they were hook't into a great many Sham Plots, and Sworn out of\ntheir Lives and Estates in such a manner, that in the very next Reign\nthe Government was so sensible of their hard treatment, that they\nrevers'd several Sentences by the same Authority that had Executed\nthem; a most undeniable Proof they were asham'd of what had been\ndone; at last, the Prince who was restor'd as abovesaid, dyed, and\nhis Brother mounted the Throne; and now began a third Scene of\nAffairs, for this Prince was neither Church-man, nor Dissenter, but\nof a different Religion from them all, known in that Country by the\nName of Abrogratzianism, and this Religion of his had this one\nabsolutely necessary Consequence in it, that a Man could not be\nsincerely and heartily of this, but he must be an Implacable hater\nof both the other. As this is laid down as a previous Supposition,\nwe are with the same Reason to imagine this Prince to be entirely\nbent upon the Suppression and Destruction of both the other, if not\nabsolutely as to Life and Estate, yet entirely as to Religion.\nTo bring this the more readily to pass like a true Polititian, had\nhis Methods and Particulars been equally Politick with his Generals,\nhe began at the right End, viz. to make the Breach between the\nSolunnarian Church, and the Crolian Dissenters as wide as possible,\nand to do this it was resolv'd to shift Sides, and as the Crown had\nalways took part with the Church, crush'd, humbl'd, persecuted, and\nby all means possible mortify'd the Dissenters, as is noted in the\nReign of his Predecessor. This Prince resolv'd to caress, cherish,\nand encourage the Crolians by all possible Arts and outward\nEndearments, not so much that they purpos'd them any real Favour, for\nthe destruction of both was equally determin'd, nor so much that they\nexpected to draw them over to Abrogratzianism, but Two Reasons may be\nsuppos'd to give Rise to this Project.\n1. The Lunarian Church Party had all along Preach'd up for a part of\ntheir Religion, that Absolute undisputed Obedience, was due from\nevery Subject to their Prince without any Reserve, Reluctance or\nRepining; that as to Resistance, it was Fatal to Body, Soul,\nReligion, Justice and Government; and tho' the Doctrine was Repugnant\nto Nature, and to the very Supreme Command it self, yet he that\nresisted, receiv'd to himself Damnation, just for all the World\nlike our Doctrine of Passive Obedience. Now tho' these Solunarian\nChurch-Men did not absolutely believe all they said themselves to\nbe true, yet they found it necessary to push these things to the\nuttermost Extremities, because they might the better fix upon the\nCrolian Dissenters, the Charge of professing less Loyal Principles\nthan they. For as to the Crolians, they profess'd openly they would\npay Obedience to the Prince, as far as the Laws directed, but no\nfarther.\nThese things were run up to strange heights, and the People were\nalways falling out about what they would do, or wou'd not do, if\nthings were so or so, as they were not, and were never likely to be;\nand the hot Men on both sides were every now and then going together\nby the Ears about Chimeras, Shadows, May-be's and Supposes.\nThe hot Men of the Solunarian Church were for knocking the Crolians\nin the Head, because as they said they were Rebels, their Fathers\nwere Rebels, and they would certainly turn Rebels again upon occasion.\nThe Crolians insisted upon it, that they had nothing to do with what\nwas done before they were Born, that if they were Criminal, because\ntheir Fathers were so, then a great many who were now of the\nSolunarian Church were as Guilty as they, several of the best Members\nof that Church having been Born of Crolian Parents.\nIn the matter of Loyalty they insisted upon it, they were as Loyal as\nthe Solunarians, for that they were as Loyal as Nature, Reason and\nthe Laws both of God and Man requir'd, and what the Other talk'd of\nmore, was but a meer pretence, and so it would be found if ever their\nPrince should have occasion to put them to the Tryal, that he that\npretended to go beyond the Power of Nature and Reason, must indeed go\nbeyond them, and they never desir'd to be brought into the extream,\nbut they were ready at any time to shew such Proofs, and give such\nDemonstrations of their Loyalty, as would satisfy any reasonable\nPrince, and for more they had nothing to say.\nIn this posture of Affairs, this new Prince found his Subjects when\nhe came to the Crown, the Solunarian Church Caress'd him, and\nnotwithstanding his being Devoted to the Abrogratzian Faith, they\nCrown'd him with extraordinary Acclamations.\nThey were the rather enclin'd to push this forward by how much they\nthought it would singularly mortify the Crolians, and all the sorts\nof Dissenters, for they had all along declar'd their abhorrence of\nthe Abrogratzians to such a Degree that they publickly endeavour'd\nto have got a general Concurrence of the whole Nation in the Publick\nCortez, or Dyet of the Kingdom, to have joyn'd with them in Excluding\nthis very Prince by Name, and all other Princes that should ever\nembrace the Abrogratzian Faith.\nAnd it wanted but a very little of bringing it to pass, for almost\nall the Great Men of the Nation, tho' Solunarians, yet that were\nMen of Temper, Moderation, and Fore-sight, were for this exclusive\nLaw. But the High Priests and Patriarchs of the Solunarian Church\nprevented it, and upon pretence of this Passive Obedience Principle,\nmade their Interest and gave their Voices for Crowning, or Entailing\nthe Crown and Government on the Head of one of the most Implacable\nEnemies both to their Religion and Civil Right that ever the Nation\nsaw; but they liv'd to Repent it too late.\nThis Conquest over the Crolians and the Moderate Solunarians, if it\ndid not suppress them entirely, it yet gave the other Part such an\nascendant over them, that they made no Doubt when that Prince came to\nthe Crown, they had done so much to oblige him, that he could deny\nthem nothing, and therefore in expectation they swallow'd up the\nwhole Body of the Crolians at once, and began to talk of nothing\nless than Banishing them to the Northern part of the Country, or to\ncertain Islands, and Countries a vast way off, where formerly great\nnumbers of them had fled for shelter in like Cases.\nAnd this was the more probable by an unhappy Stroke these Crolians\nattempted to strike, but miscarry'd in at the very beginning of this\nPrince's Reign: for as they had always profest an aversion to this\nPrince on account of his Religion, as soon as their other King was\ndead, they set up one of his Natural Sons against this King, which\nthe Solunarians had so joyfully Crown'd. This young Prince invaded\nhis Dominions, and great Numbers of the most zealous Crolians joyn'd\nhim---- But to cut the Story short, he was entirely routed by the\nForces of the new Prince, for all the Solunarian Church joyn'd with\nhim against the Crolians without any respect to the Interest of\nReligion, so they overthrew their Brethren: The young invaded Prince\nwas taken and put to Death openly, and Great Cruelties were exercis'd\nin cold Blood upon the poor unhappy People that were taken in the\nDefeat!\nThus a second time these Loyal Solunarian Church-men Establish'd\ntheir Enemy, and built up what they were glad afterwards to pull down\nagain, and to beg the assistance of those Crolians whom they had so\nrudely handled, to help them demolish the Power they had erected\nthemselves, and which now began to set its foot upon the Throat of\nthose that nourish'd and supported it.\nUpon this exceeding Loyalty and blind Assistance given to their\nPrince, the Solunarians made no question but they had so Eternally\nbound him to them, that it would be in their Power to pull down the\nvery Name of Crolianism, and utterly destroy it from the Nation.\nBut the time came on to Undeceive them, for this Prince, whose\nPrinciple as an Abrogratzian, was to destroy them both, as it\nhappened, was furnish'd with Counsellors and Ecclesiasticks of his\nown Profession, ten thousand Times more bent for their general Ruin,\nthan himself.\nFor abstracted from the Venom and Rancour of his Profession as an\nAbrogratzian, and from the furious Zeal of his Bramin, Priests, and\nReligious People, that continually hung about him, and that prompted\nhim to act against his Temper and Inclination, by which he ruin'd\nall, he was else a forward and generous Prince, and likely to have\nmade his People Great and Flourishing.\nBut his furious Church-Men ruin'd all his good Designs, and turn'd\nall his Projects to compass the Introduction of his own Religion into\nhis Dominions.\nNay, and had he not fatally been push'd on by such as really design'd\nhis Ruin, to drive this deep Design on too hastily and turn the\nScale of his Management from a close and conceal'd, to an open and\nprofess'd Design, he might have gone a great way with it.---------\nHad he been content to have let that have been twenty Year a doing,\nwhich he impatiently as well as preposterously attempted all at\nonce.------- Wise Men have thought he might in time have supprest the\nSolunarian Religion, and have set up his own.\nTo give a short Scheme of his Proceedings, and with them of the\nreason of his Miscarriage.\n1. Having defeated the Rebellious Crolians, as is before noted, and\nreflecting on the Danger he was in upon the sudden Progress of that\nRebellion, for indeed he was within a trifle of Ruin in that Affair;\nand had not the Crolians been deceiv'd by the darkness of the Night\nand led to a large Ditch of Water, which they could not pass over,\nthey had certainly surpriz'd and overthrown his Army, and cut them in\npieces, before they had known who had hurt them. Upon the Sense of\nthis Danger, he takes up a pretence of necessity for the being always\nready to resist the Factious Crolians, as he call'd them, and by that\nInsinuation hooks himself into a standing Army in time of Peace;\n----- nay, and so easy were the Solunarian Church to yield up any\npoint, which they did but imagin would help to crush their Brethren\nthe Crolians, that they not only consented to this unusual Invasion\nof their antient Liberties, but sent up several Testimonials of their\nfree Consent, nay, and of their Joy of having arriv'd to so great a\nHappiness, as to have a Prince that setting aside the formality of\nLaws would vouchsafe to Govern them by the glorious Method of a\nStanding Army.------\nThese Testimonials were things not much unlike our Addresses in\nEngland, and which when I heard I could not but remember our Case, in\nthe time of the late King James, when the City of Carlisle in their\nAddress, Thankt his Majesty for the Establishing a Standing Army in\nEngland in time of Peace, calling it the Strength, and Glory of the\nKingdom.\nSo strong is the Ambition and Envy of Parties, these Solunarian\nGentlemen not grudging to put out one of their own eyes, so they\nmight at the same time put out both the Eyes of their Enemies; the\nCrolians rather consented to this badge of their own Slavery, and\nbrought themselves who were a free People before, under the Power and\nSlavery of the Sword.\nThe ease with which this Prince got over so considerable a Point as\nthis, made him begin to be too credulous and to perswade himself\nthat the Solunarian Church-Men were really in earnest, as to their\nPageant-Doctrin of Non-Resistance, and that as he had seen them bear\nwith strange extravagancies on the Crolian Part, they were real and\nin earnest when they Preach'd that Men ought to obey for Conscience's\nsake, whatever hardship were impos'd upon them, and however unjust,\nor contrary to the Laws of God, Nature, Reason, or their Country;\nwhat Principle in the World could more readily prompt a Prince to\nattempt what he so earnestly coveted, as this zealous Prince did the\nrestoring the Abrogratzian Faith, for since he had but two sorts of\nPeople to do with; one he had crush'd by force, and had brought the\nother to profess it their Religion, their Duty, and their Resolution\nto bear every thing he thought fit to Impose upon them, and that they\nshould be Damn'd if they resisted, the Work seem'd half done to his\nHand.\nAnd indeed when I reflected on the Coherence of things, I could not\nso much blame this Prince for his venturing upon the probability, for\nwhoever was but to go up to this Lunar World and read the Stories of\nthat Time, with what Fury the hot Men of the Solunarian Church acted\nagainst the Dissenting Crolians, and with what warmth they assisted\ntheir Prince against them, and how Cruelly they insulted them after\nthey were defeated in their attempt of Dethroning him, how zealously\nthey Preach'd up the Doctrine of absolute undisputed Resignation to\nhis Will, how frequently they obey'd several of his encroachments\nupon their Liberties, and what solemn Protestations they made to\nsubmit to him in any thing, and to stand by and assist him in\nwhatever he Commanded them to the last Drop, much with the same Zeal\nand Forwardness, as our Life-and-Fortune Men did here in England. I\nsay, when all this was consider'd, I could not so much condemn his\nCredulity, nor blame him for believing them, for no Man could have\ndoubted their Sincerity, but he that at the same time must have Taxt\nthem with most unexampled Hipocrisie.\nFor the Solunarians now began to discern their Prince was not really\non their side, that neither in State Matters any more than Religion,\nhe had any affection for them, and the first absolute Shock he gave\nthem, was in Publishing a general Liberty to the Crolians. 'Tis true\nthis was not out of respect to the Crolian Religion any more than the\nSolunarian, but purely because by that means he made way for an\nIntroduction of the Abrogratzian Religion which now began to appear\npublickly in the Country.\nBut however, as this was directly contrary to the expectation of the\nSolunarians, it gave them such a disgust against their Prince, that\nfrom that very time being disappointed in the Soveraign Authority\nthey expected, they entred into the deepest and blackest Conspiracy\nagainst their Prince and his Government that ever was heard of.\nMany of the Crolians were deluded by the new Favour and Liberty they\nreceiv'd from the Prince to believe him real, and were glad of the\nMortification of their Brethren; but the more Judicious seeing\nplainly the Prince's Design, declar'd against their own Liberty,\nbecause given them by an illegal Authority, without the assent of the\nwhole Body legally assembled.\nWhen the Solunarians saw this they easily reconcil'd themselves to\nthe Crolians, at least from the Outside of the Face, for the carrying\non their Design, and so here was a Nation full of Plots, here was the\nPrince and his Abrogratzians plotting to introduce their Religion,\nhere was a parcel of blind short-sighted Crolians plotting to ruin\nthe Solunarian Establishment, and weakly joining with the\nAbrogratzians to satisfy their private Resentments; and here was the\nwiser Crolians joining heartily with the Solunarians of all sorts,\nlaying aside private Resentments, and forgetting old Grudges about\nReligion, in order to ruin the invading Projects of the Prince and\nhis Party.\nThere was indeed some verbal Conditions past between them, and the\nSolunarians willing to bring them into their Party promised them upon\nthe Faith of their Nation, and the Honour of the Solunarian Religion,\nthat there should be no more Hatred, Disturbance or Persecution\nfor the sake of Religion between them, but that they would come to\na Temper with them, and always be Brethren for the future. They\ndeclared that Persecution ran contrary to their Religion in general,\nand to their Doctrin in particular; and backt their Allegations with\nsome Truths they have not since thought fit to like, nor much to\nregard.\nHowever by this Artifice, and on these Conditions, they brought the\nCrolians to join with them in their Resolutions to countermine their\ndesigning Prince; these indeed were for doing it by the old way\ndown-right, and to oppose Oppression with Force, a Doctrin they\nacknowledg'd, and profest to join with all the Lunar part of Mankind\nin the practice, and began to tell their Brethren how they had\nimpos'd upon themselves and the World, in pretending to absolute\nSubmission against Nature and universal Lunarian Practice.\nBut a cunning Fellow personating a Solunarian, and who was in the\nPlot, gravely answer'd them thus,\n'Look ye, Gentlemen, we own with you that Nature, Reason, Law,\nJustice, and Custom of Nations is on your side, and that all Power\nDerives from, Centers in, and on all Recesses or Demises of Power\nreturns to its Great Original the Party Governed: Nay we own our\nGreat Eye from whom all the habitable Parts of this Globe are\ninlightned, has always directed us to practice what Nature thus\ndictates, always approv'd and generally succeeded the attempt of\nDethroning Tyrants. But our Case differs, we have always pretended\nto this absolute undisputed Obedience, which we did indeed to gain\nthe Power of your Party; and if we should turn round at once to\nyour Opinion, tho' never so right, we should so fly in the Face of\nour own Doctrin, Sermons, innumerable Pamphlets and Pretensions, as\nwould give all our Enemies too great a Power over us in Argument,\nand we should never be able to look Mankind in the Face: But we\nhave laid our Measures so that by prompting the King to run upon us\nin all sorts of bare-fac'd Extreams and Violences, we shall bring\nhim to exasperate the whole Nation; then we may underhand foment\nthe breach on this side, raise the Mob upon him, and by acting on\nboth sides seem to suffer a Force in falling in with the People,\nand preserve our Reputation.\n'Thus we shall bring the thing to pass, betray our Prince, take\nArms against his Power, call in Foreign Force to do the Work, and\neven then keep our Hands seemingly out of the Broil, by being\npretended Sticklers for our former Prince; so save our Reputation,\nand bring all to pass with Ease and Calmness; while the eager Party\nof the Abrogratzians will do their own Work by expecting we will do\nit for them.\nThe Crolians astonish'd both at the Policy, the Depth, the Knavery\nand the Hypocrisy of the Design, left them to carry it on, owning it\nwas a Masterpiece of Craft, and so stood still to observe the Issue,\nwhich every way answer'd the exactness of its Contrivance.\nWhen I saw into the bottom of all this Deceit, I began to take up new\nResolutions of returning back into our Old World again, and going\nhome to England, where tho' I had conceiv'd great Indignation at the\nTreatment our Passive Obedience Men gave their Prince here, and was\nin hopes in these my remote Travels to have found out some Nations of\nHonour and Principles. I was fill'd with Amazement to see our\nModerate Knaves so much out-done, and I was inform'd that all these\nthings were meer Amusements, Vizors, and Shams, to bring an Innocent\nPrince into the Snare.\nWould any Mortal imagin who has read this short Part of the Story,\nthat all this was a Solunarian Church Plot, a meer Conspiracy between\nthese Gentlemen and the Crolian Dissenters, only to wheedle in the\nunhappy Prince to his own Destruction, and bring the popular\nAdvantage of the Mob, to a greater Ascendant on the Crown.\nOf all the Richlieus, Mazarines, Gondamours, Oliver Cromwels, and the\nwhole Train of Polititians that our World has produc'd, the greatest\nof their Arts are Follies to the unfathomable depth of these Lunarian\nPolicies; and for Wheedle, Lying, Swearing, Preaching, Printing, &c.\nwhat is said in our World by Priests and Polititans, we thank God may\nbe believ'd; but if ever I believe a Solunarian Priest Preaching\nNon-Resistance of Monarchs, or a Solunarian Polititian turning\nAbrogratzian, I ought to be mark'd down for a Fool; nor will ever any\nPrince in that Country take their Word again, if ever they have their\nSenses about 'em, but as this is a most extraordinary Scene, so I\ncannot omit a more particular and sufficient Relation of some Parts\nof it, than I us'd to give.\nThe Solunarian Clergy had carry'd on their Non-Resistance Doctrin to\nsuch Extremities, and had given this new Prince such unusual\ndemonstrations of it, that he fell absolutely into the Snare, and\nentirely believ'd them; he had try'd them with such Impositions as\nthey would never have born from any Prince in the World, nor from him\nneither, had they not had a deep Design, and consequently stood in\nneed of the deepest Disguise imaginable; they had yielded to a\nStanding Army, and applauded it as a thing they had desir'd; they had\nsubmitted to levying Taxes upon them by New Methods, and illegal\nPractices; they had yielded to the abrogation or suspension at least\nof their Laws, when the King's absolute Will requir'd it; not that\nthey were blind, and did not see what their Prince was doing, but\nthat the black Design was so deeply laid, they found it was the only\nway to ruin him, to push him upon the highest Extreams, and then they\nshould have their turn serv'd.---- Thus if he desir'd one illegal\nThing of them, they would immediately grant two; one would have\nthought they had read our Bible, and the Command, when a Man takes\naway the Cloak, to give him the Coat also.\nNor was this enough, but they seem'd willing to admit of the publick\nExercise of the Abrogratzian Religion in all Parts; and when the\nPrince set it up in his own Chappel, they suffered it to be set up in\ntheir Cities, and Towns, and the Abrogratzian Clergy began to be seen\nup and down in their very Habits; a thing which had never been\npermitted before in that Country, and which the Common People began\nto be very uneasy at. But still the Solunarian Clergy, and all such\nof the Gentry, especially as were in the Plot, by their Sermons,\nprinted Books, and publick Discourses, carry'd on this high topping\nNotion of absolute Submission, so that the People were kept under,\nand began to submit to all the impositions of the Prince.\nThese things were so acted to the Life, that not only the Prince, but\nnone of his Abrogratzian Counsellors could see the Snare, the Hook\nwas so finely covered by the Church-Artificers, and the Bait so\ndelicious, that they all swallow'd it with eagerness and delight.\nBut the Conspirators willing to make a sure game of it, and not\nthinking the King, or all his Counsellors would drive on so fast as\nthey would have them, tho' they had already made a fair progress for\nthe Time, resolv'd to play home, and accordingly they persuade their\nPrince, that they will not only submit to his Arbitrary Will, in\nMatters of State, and Government, but in Matters of Religion; and in\norder to carry this Jest on, one of the heads of their Politicks, and\na Person of great Estem for his Abilities in Matters of State, being\nwithout question one of the ablest Heads of all the Solunarian\nNobility, pretended to be converted, and turn'd Abrogratzian. This\nimmediately took as they desir'd, for the Prince caress'd him, and\nentertain'd him with all possible endearments, proferr'd him to\nseveral Posts of Honour and Advantage, always kept him near him,\nconsulted him in all Emergencies, took him with him to the Abrogian\nSacrifices, and he made no Scruple publickly to appear there, and by\nthese degrees and a super-achitophalian Hypocrisie, so insinuated\nhimself into the credulous Prince's favour, that he became his only\nConfident, and absolute Master of all his Designs.\nNow the Plot had its desir'd effect, for he push'd the King upon all\nmanner of Precipitations; and if even the Abrogratzians themselves\nwho were about the King, interpos'd for more temperate Proceedings,\nhe would call them Cowards, Strangers, ignorant of the Temper of the\nLunarians, who when they were a going, might be driven, but if they\nwere suffered to cool and consider, would face about and fall off.\nIndeed the Men of Prudence and Estates among his own Party, I mean\nthe Abrogratzians in the Country, frequently warn'd him to take more\nmoderate Measures, and to proceed with more Caution; told him he\nwould certainly ruin them all, and himself, and that there must be\nsome Body about his Majesty that push'd him upon these Extremes, on\npurpose to set all the Nation in a Flame, and to overthrow all the\ngood Designs, which with Temper and good Conduct, might be brought\nto perfection.\nHad these wary Councils been observ'd, and a Prudence and Policy\nagreeable to the mighty consequence of Things been practis'd, the\nSolunarian Church had run a great risque of being over thrown, and to\nhave sunk gradually in the Abrogian Errors, the People began to be\ndrawn off gradually, and the familiarity of the thing made it appear\nless frightful to unthinking People, who had entertain'd strange\nNotions of the monstrous things that were to be seen in it, so that\ncommon Vogue had fill'd the Peoples Minds with ignorant Aversions,\nthat 'tis no absurdity to say, I believe there was 200000 People\nwho would have spent the last drop of their Blood against\nAbrogratzianism, that did not know whether it was a Man or a Horse.\nThis thing consider'd well, would of it self have been sufficient to\nhave made the Prince and his Friends wary, and to have taught them to\nsuit their Measures to the Nature and Circumstances of Things before\nthem; but Success in their beginnings blinded their Eyes, and they\nfell into this Church Snare with the most unpitied willingness that\ncould be imagin'd.\nThe first thing therefore this new Counsellor put his Master upon,\nin order to the beginning his more certain Ruin, was to introduce\nseveral of his Abrograzians into Places of all kinds, both in the\nArmy, Navy, Treasure, and Civil Affairs, tho' contrary to some of the\ngeneral Constitutions of Government; he had done it into the Army\nbefore, tho' it had disgusted several of his Military Men, but now he\npush'd him upon making it Universal, and still the Passive\nSolunarians bore it with patience.\nFrom this tameness and submission, his next Step was to argue that he\nmight depend upon it the Solunarian Church had so sincerely embrac'd\nthe Doctrine of Non-Resistance, that they were now ripen'd not only\nto sit still, and see their Brethren the Crolians suppress'd, but to\nstand still and be opprest themselves, and he might assure himself\nthe Matter was now ripe, he might do just what he wou'd himself with\nthem, they were prepar'd to bare any thing.\nThis was the fatal Stroke, for having possest the Prince with the\nbelief of this, he let loose the Reins to all his long conceal'd\nDesires. Down went their Laws, their Liberties, their Corporations,\ntheir Churches, their Colleges, all went to wreck, and the eager\nAbrograzians thought the Day their own. The Solunarians made no\nopposition, but what was contain'd within the narrow circumference of\nPetitions, Addresses, Prayers, and Tears; and these the Prince was\nprepar'd to reject, and upon all occasions to let them know he was\nresolv'd to be obey'd.\nThus he drove on by the treacherous Advice of his new Counsels, till\nhe ripen'd all the Nation for the general Defection which afterward\nfollow'd.\nFor as the Encroachments of the Prince push'd especially at their\nChurch Liberties, and threatened the overthrow of all their\nEcclesiastical Privileges, the Clergy no sooner began to feel that\nthey were like to be the first Sacrifice, but they immediately\nthrew off the Vizor, and beat the Concionazimir; this is a certain\nEcclesiastick Engine which is usual in cases of general Alarm, as\nthe Churches Signal of Universal Tumult.\nThis is truly a strange Engine, and when a Clergy-Man gets into the\nInside of it, and beats it, it Roars, and makes such a terrible\nNoise from the several Cavities, that 'tis heard a long way; and\nthere are always a competent number of them plac'd in all Parts so\nconveniently, that the Alarm is heard all over the Kingdom in one Day.\nI had some Thoughts to have given the Reader a Diagram of this piece\nof Art, but as I am but a bad Drafts Man, I have not yet been able\nso exactly to describe it, as that a Scheme can be drawn, but to the\nbest of my Skill, take it as follows. 'Tis a hollow Vessel, large\nenough to hold the biggest Clergy-Man in the Nation; it is generally\nan Octagon in Figure, open before, from the Wast upward, but whole\nat the Back, with a Flat extended over it for Reverberation, or\ndoubling the Sound; doubling and redoubling, being frequently\nthought necessary to be made use of on these occasions; 'tis very\nMathematically contriv'd, erected on a Pedestal of Wood like a\nWindmil, and has a pair of winding Stairs up to it, like those at\nthe great Tun at Hiedlebergh.\nI could make some Hierogliphical Discourses upon it, from these\nReferences, thus. 1. That as it is erected on a Pedestal like a\nWind-Mill, so it is no new thing for the Clergy, who are the only\nPersons permitted to make use of it, to make it turn round with the\nWind, and serve to all the Points of the Compass. 2. As the Flat\nover it assists to encrease the Sound, by forming a kind of hollow,\nor cavity proper to that purpose, so there is a certain natural\nhollowness, or emptiness, made use of sometimes in it, by the\nGentlemen of the Gown, which serves exceedingly to the propogation\nof all sorts of Clamour, Noise, Railing, and Disturbance. 3. As the\nStairs to it go winding up like those by which one mounts to the vast\nTun of Wine at Hiedleburgh, which has no equal in our World, so the\nuse made of these ascending Steps, is not altogether different, being\nfrequently employ'd to raise People up to all sorts of Enthusiasms,\nspiritual Intoxications, mad and extravagant Action, high exalted\nFlights, Precipitations, and all kinds of Ecclesiastick Drunkenness\nand Excesses.\nThe sound of this Emblem of emptiness, the Concionazimir, was no\nsooner heard over the Nation, but all the People discover'd their\nreadiness to join in with the Summons, and as the thing had been\nconcerted before, they send over their Messengers to demand\nAssistance from a powerful Prince beyond the Sea, one of their\nown Religion, and who was allied by Marriage to the Crown.\nThey made their Story out so plain, and their King had by the\ncontrivance of their Achitophel rendred himself so suspected to all\nhis Neighbours, that this Prince, without any hesitation, resolv'd\nto join with them, and accordingly makes vast Preparations to invade\ntheir King.\nDuring this interval their Behaviour was quite altred at home, the\nDoctrin of absolute Submission and Non-Resistance was heard no more\namong them, the Concionazimir beat daily to tell all the People they\nshould stand up to Defend the Rights of the Church, and that it was\ntime to look about them for the Abrograzians were upon them. The\neager Clergy made this Ecclesiastick Engine sound as loud and make\nall the Noise they could, and no Men in the Nation were so forward\nas they to acknowledge that it was a State-Trick, and they were drawn\nin to make such a stir about the pretended Doctrins of absolute\nSubmission, that they did not see the Snare which lay under it, that\nnow their Eyes were opened, and they had learnt to see the Power and\nSuperiority of Natural Right, and would be deceiv'd no longer. Others\nwere so honest to tell the Truth, that they knew the emptiness and\nweakness of the pretence all along, and knew what they did when\nthey Preacht it up, viz. to suppress and pull down the Crolians: But\nthey thought their Prince who they always serv'd in crying up that\nDoctrin, and whose Exclusion was prevented by it, would ha' had more\nGratitude, or at least more Sense, than to try the Experiment upon\nthem, since whatever to serve his Designs and their own, which they\nalways thought well united, they were willing to pretend, he could\nnot but see they always knew better than to suffer the practice of\nit in their own Case. That since he had turn'd the Tables upon them,\n'tis true he had them at an advantage and might pretend they were\nKnaves, and perhaps had an opportunity to call them so with some\nreason; but they were resolv'd, since he had drove them to the\nnecessity of being one or t'other, tho' he might call them Knaves,\nthey would take care he should have no reason to call them Fools too.\nThus the Vapour of absolute Subjection was lost on a suddain, and as\nif it had been preparatory to what was coming after, the Experiment\nwas quickly made; for the King persuing his Encroachments upon the\nChurch, and being possest with a Belief that pursuant to their open\nProfessions they would submit to any thing, he made a beginning with\nthem, in sending his positive Command to one of his Superintendent\nPriests, or Patriarchs, to forbid a certain Ecclesiastick to\nofficiate any more till his Royal Pleasure was known.\nNow it happen'd very unluckily that this Patriarch, tho' none of the\nmost Learned of his Fraternity, yet had always been a mighty zealous\nPromoter of this blind Doctrin of Non-Resistance, and had not a\nlittle triumph'd over and insulted the Crolian Dissenters upon the\nNotion of Rebellion, antimonarchical Principles and Obedience, with\na reserve for the Laws, and the like, as a scandalous practice, and\ncomprehensive of Faction, Sedition, dangerous to the Church and\nState, and the like.\nThis Reverend Father was singl'd out as the first Mark of the King's\nDesign; the deluded Prince believ'd he could not but comply,\nhaving so publickly profest his being all Submission and absolute\nSubjection; but as this was all Conceit, he was pusht on to make\nthe Assault where he was most certain to meet a repulse; and this\nGentleman had long since thrown off the Mask, so his first Order\nwas disobey'd.\nThe Patriarch pretended to make humble Remonstrances, and to offer\nhis Reasons why he could not in Conscience, as he call'd it, comply.\nThe King, who was now made but a meer Engine, or Machine, screw'd up\nor down by this false Counsellor to act his approaching Destruction\nwith his own Hand, was prompted to resent this Repulse with the\nutmost Indignation, to reject all manner of Submissions, Excuses\nor Arguments, or any thing but an immediate, absolute compliance,\naccording to the Doctrin so often inculcated; and this he run on so\nhigh, as to put the Patriarch in Prison for Contumacy.\nThe Patriarch as absolutely refus'd to submit, and offer'd himself to\nthe Decision of the Law.\nNow it was always a sacred Rule in these Lunar Countries, that both\nKing and People are bound to stand by the arbitrimnet of the Law in\nall Cases of Right or Claim, whether publick or private; and this has\nbeen the reason that all the Princes have endeavour'd to cover their\nActions with pretences of Law, whatever really has been in their\nDesign; for this reason the King could not refuse to bring the\nPatriarch to a Tryal, where the Humour of the People first discover'd\nit self, for here Passive Obedience was Try'd and Cast, the Law\nprov'd to be superior to the King, the Patriarch was acquitted, his\nDisobedience to the King justify'd, and the King's Command prov'd\nunjust.\nThe Applause of the Patriarch, the Acclamations of the People, and\nthe general Rejoycings of the whole Nation at this Transaction, gave\na black prospect to the Abrograzians; and a great many of them came\nvery honestly and humbly to the King and told him, if he continued to\ngo on by these Measures he would ruin them all; they told him what\ngeneral Alarm had been over the whole Nation by the Clamours of the\nClergy; and the beating of the Concionazimir in all Parts, inform'd\nhim how the Doctrin of absolute Obedience was ridicul'd in all\nPlaces, and how the Clergy began to preach it back again like a\nWitches Prayer, and that it would infallibly raise the Devil of\nRebellion in all the Nation, they besought him to content himself\nwith the liberty of their Religion, and the freedom they enjoy'd of\nbeing let into Places and Offices of Trust and Honour, and to wait\nall reasonable Occasions to encrease their Advantages, and gradually\nto gain Ground; they entreated him to consider the impossibility of\nreducing so mighty, so obstinate, and so resolute a Nation all at\nonce. They pleaded how rational a thing it was to expect that by\nDegrees and good Management, which by precipitate Measures would be\nendanger'd and overthrown.\nHad these wholsome Counsels taken place in the King's Mind he had\nbeen King to his last hour, and the Solunarians and Crolians too had\nbeen all undone, for he had certainly incroach'd upon them gradually,\nand brought that to pass in time which by precipitant Measures he was\nnot likely to effect.\nIt was therefore a master-piece of Policy in the Solunarian\nChurch-men to place a feign'd Convert near their Prince, who shou'd\nalways biass him with contrary Advices, puff him up with vast\nprospect of Success, prompt him to all Extreams, and always Fool\nhim with the certainty of bringing Things to pass his own way.\nThese Arts made him set light by the repulse he met with in the\nMatter of the Patriarch, and now he proceeds to make two Attacks more\nupon the Church; one was by putting some of his Abrograzian Priests\ninto a College among some of the Solunarian Clergy; and the other\nwas to oblige all the Solunarian Clergy to read a certain Act of\nhis Council, in which his Majesty admitted all the Abrograzians,\nCrolians, and all sorts of Dissenters, to a freedom of their\nReligious Exercises, Sacrifices, Exorcisms, Dippings, Preachings, &c.\nand to prohibit the Solunarians to Molest or Disturb them.\nNow as this last was a bitter reproach to the Solunarian Church for\nall the ill Treatment the Dissenting Crolians had receiv'd from them,\nand as it was exprest in the Act that all such Treatment was Unjust\nand Unchristian, so for them to read it in their Temples, was to\nacknowledge that they had been guilty of most unjust and irreligious\nDealings to the Crolians, and that their Prince had taken care to do\nthem Justice.\nThe matter of introducing the Abrograzians into the Colleges or\nSeminaries of the Solunarian Priests, was actually against the Sacred\nConstitutions and Foundation Laws of those Seminaries.\nWherefore in both these Articles they not only disobey'd their\nPrince, but they oppos'd him with those trifling Things call'd Laws,\nwhich they had before declar'd had no Defensive Force against their\nPrince; these they had recourse to now, insisted upon the Justice and\nRight devolv'd upon them by the Laws, and absolutely refus'd their\ncompliance with his Commands.\nThe Prince, pusht upon the Tenters before, receiv'd their Denial with\nexceeding Resentment, and was heard with deep regret, to break out in\nExclamations at their unexpected faithless Proceedings, and sometimes\nto express himself thus: Horrid Hypocrisy! Surprizing Treachery! Is\nthis the absolute Subjection which in such numerous Testimonials or\nAddresses you profest, and for which you so often and so constantly\nbranded the poor Crolians, and told me that your Church was wholly\nmade up of Principles of Loyalty and Obedience! But I'll be fully\nsatisfied for this Treatment.\nIn the minute of one of those Excursions of his Passion, came into\nhis Presence the seemingly revolted Lunarian Noble Man, and falling\nin with his present Passions, prompts him to a speedy revenge; and\npropos'd his erecting a Court of Searches, something like the Spanish\nInquisition, giving them plenipotentiary Authority to hear and\ndetermine all Ecclesiastical Causes absolutely, and without Appeal.\nHe empower'd these Judges to place by his absolute Will, all the\nAbrograzian Students in the Solunarian College, and tho' they might\nmake a formal Hearing for the sake of the Form, yet that by Force it\nshould be done.\nHe gave them Power to displace all those Solunarian Clergy-Men that\nhad refus'd to read his Act of Demission to the Abrograzian, and\nCrolian Dissenters, and 'twas thought he design'd to keep their\nRevenues in Petto, till he might in time fill them up to some of his\nown Religion.\nThe Commission accordingly began to act, and discovering a full\nResolution to fulfil his Command, they by Force proceeded with the\nStudents of the Solunarian College; and it was very remarkable, that\neven some of the Solunarian Patriarchs were of this number, who\nturn'd out their Brethren the Solunarian Students, to place\nAbrograzians in their room.\nThis indeed they are said to have repented of since, but however,\nthese it seems were not of the Plot, and therefore did not foresee\nwhat was at hand.\nThe rest of the Patriarchs who were all in the Grand Design, and saw\nthings ripening for its Execution, upon the apprehension of this\nCourt of Searches beginning with them, make an humble Address to\ntheir Prince, containing the Reasons why they could not comply with\nhis Royal Command.------\nThe incens'd King upbraided them with his having been told by them\nof their absolute and unreserv'd Obedience, and refusing their\nSubmissions or their Reasons, sent them all to Jail, and resolv'd to\nhave brought them before his new High Court of Searches, in order, as\nwas believ'd, to have them all displac'd.\nAnd now all began to be in a Flame, the Sollicitations of the\nSolunarian Party, having obtain'd powerful Relief Abroad, they began\nto make suitable preparations at Home. The Gentry and Nobility who\nthe Clergy had brought to join with them, furnish'd themselves with\nHorses and Arms, and prepar'd with their Tenants and Dependants to\njoin the Succours as soon as they should Arrive.\nIn short, the Forreign Troops they had procur'd, Arriv'd, Landed, and\npublish'd a long Declaration of all the Grievances which they came to\nredress.\nNo sooner was this Forreign Army arriv'd with the Prince at the head\nof them, but the face of Affairs altred on a suddain. The King\nindeed, like a brave Prince, drew all his Forces together, and\nmarching out of his Capital City, advanced above 500 Stages, things\nthey measure Land with in those Countries, and much about our\nFurlong, to meet his Enemy.\nHe had a gallant Army well appointed and furnish'd, and all things\nmuch superior to his Adversary, but alas the Poison of Disobedience\nwas gotten in there, and upon the first March he offer'd to make\ntowards the Enemy one of his great Captains with a strong Party of\nhis Men went over and revolted.\nThis Example was applauded all over the Nation, and by this time one\nof the Patriarchs, even the same mention'd before that had so often\npreacht Non-Resistance of Princes, lays by his Sacred Vestments,\nMitre, and Staff, and exchanging his Robes for a Soldier's Coat,\nmounts on Horseback, and in short, appears in Arms against his\nLord.----- Nor was this all, but the Treacherous Prelate takes along\nwith him several Solunarian Lords, and Persons of the highest Figure,\nand of the Houshold, and Family of the King, and with him went the\nKing's own Daughter, his principle Favourites and Friends.\nAt the News of this, the poor deserted Prince lost all Courage, and\nabandoning himself to Despair, he causes his Army to retreat without\nfighting a Stroke, quits them and the Kingdom at once, and takes\nSanctuary with such as could escape with him, in the Court of a\nNeighbouring Prince.\nI have heard this Prince exceedingly blam'd, for giving himself up to\nDespair so soon. ----- That he thereby abandon'd the best and\nfaithfullest of his Friends, and Servants, and left them to the Mercy\nof the Solunarians; that when all these that would have forsaken him\nwere gone, he had Forces equal to his Enemies; that his Men were in\nHeart, fresh and forward; that he should have stood to the last;\nretreated to a strong Town, where his Ships rod, and which was over\nagainst the Territories of his great Allie, to whom he might have\ndeliver'd up the Ships which were there, and have thereby made him\nSuperior at Sea to his Enemies, and he was already much Superior at\nLand; that there he might have been reliev'd with Forces too strong\nfor them to match, and at least might have put it to the issue of a\nfair Battle.------ Others, that he might have retreated to his own\nCourt, and capital City, and taking possession of the Citadel, which\nwas his own, might so have aw'd the Citizens who were infinitely\nRich, and Numerous, with the apprehensions of having their Houses\nburnt, they would not have dar'd to have declar'd for his Enemies,\nfor fear of being reduc'd to heaps and ruins; and that at last he\nmight have set the City on Fire in 500 Places, and left the\nSolunarian Church-Men a Token to remember their Non-Resisting\nDoctrine by, and yet have made an easy Retreat down the Harbour, to\nother Forts he had below, and might with ease have destroy'd all the\nShipping, as he went.\n'Tis confess'd had he done either, or both these things, he had left\nthem a dear bought Victory, but he was depriv'd of his Counsellor,\nfor as soon as things came to this height, the Achitophel we have so\noften mention'd, left him also, and went away; all his Abrograzian\nPriests too fosook him, and he was so bereft of Counsel that he fell\ninto the Hands of his Enemies as he was making his escape, but he got\naway again, not without the connivance of the Enemy, who were willing\nenough he should go; so he got a Vessel to carry him over to the\nNeighbouring Kingdom, and all his Armies, Ships, Forts, Castles,\nMagazines, and Treasure, fell into his Enemies Hands.\nThe Neighbouring Prince entertain'd him very kindly, Cherish'd him,\nSuccour'd him, and furnish'd him with Armies and Fleets for the\nrecovery of his Dominions, which has occasion'd a tedious War with\nthat Prince, which continues to this Day.\nThus far Passive Doctrins, and Absolute Submission serv'd a Turn,\nbubl'd the Prince, wheedled him in to take their Word who profess'd\nit, 'till he laid his Finger upon the Men themselves, and that\nunravell'd all the Cheat; they were the first that call'd in Forreign\nPower, and took up Arms against their Prince.\nNor did they end here, but all this Scene being over, and the\nForreign Prince having thus deliver'd them, and their own King being\nthus chas'd away, the People call themselves together, and as Reason\ngood, having been deliver'd by him from the Miseries, Brangles,\nOppressions, and Divisions of the former Reign, they thought they\ncould do no less than to Crown their Deliverer; and having Summon'd a\ngeneral Assembly of all their Capital Men, they gave the Crown to\nthis Prince who had so generously sav'd them.\nAnd here again I heard the first King exceedingly blam'd for quitting\nhis Dominions, for had he staid here, tho' he had actually been in\ntheir Hands, unless they wou'd have Murther'd him, they could never\nhave proceeded to the Extremeties they did reach to, nor cou'd they\never have Crown'd the other Prince, he being yet alive and in his own\nDominions.\nBut by quitting the Country, they fix'd a legal Period to their\nObedience, he having deserted their Protection, and Defence, and\nopenly laid down the Administration.\nBut as these sort of Politicks cannot be decided by us, unless we\nknow the Constitutions of those Lunar Regions, so we cannot pretend\nto make a Decision of what might, or might not have happen'd.\nIt remains to examine how those Solunarians behav'd themselves, who\nhad so earnedly cryed up the Principles of Obedience, and absolute\nSubmission.\nNothing was so Ridiculous, now they saw what they had done, they\nbegan to repent, and upon recollection of Thoughts some were so\nasham'd of themselves, that having broken their Doctrin, and being\nnow call'd upon to tranfpose their Allegiance, truly they stopt in\nthe mid-way, and so became Martyrs on both sides.\nI can liken these to nothing so well as to those Gentlemen of our\nEnglish Church, who tho' they broke into the Principles of Passive\nObedience by joining, and calling over the P. of O. yet suffer'd\ndeprivations of Benefices, and loss of their Livings, for not taking\nthe Oath; as if they had not as effectually perjur'd themselves by\ntaking up Arms against their King, and joyning a Forreign Power, as\nthey could possibly do afterward, by Swearing to live quietly under\nthe next King.\nBut these nice Gentlemen are infinitely outdone in these Countries,\nfor these Solunarians by a true Church turn, not only refuse to\ntranspose their Allegiance, but pretend to wipe their Mouths as to\nformer taking Arms, and return to their old Doctrins of absolute\nSubmission, boast of Martyrdom, and boldly reconcile the contraries\nof taking up Arms, and Non-Resistance, charging all their Brethren\nwith Schism, Rebellion, Perjury, and the damnable Sin of Resistance.\nNor is this all, for as a great many of these Solunarian Church-Men\nhad no affection to this new Prince, but were not equally furnished,\nor qualify'd for Martyrdom with their Brethren; they went to certain\nWise Men, who being cunning at splitting Hairs, and making\ndistinctions, might perhaps furnish them with some mediums between\nLoyalty and Disloyalty; they apply'd themselves with great dilligence\nto these Men, and they by deep Study, and long Search, either found\nor made the quaintest Device for them that ever was heard of.\nBy this unheard of Discovery, to their great Joy and Satisfaction,\nthey have arriv'd at a Power, which all the Wise Men in our World\ncould never pretend to, and which 'tis thought, could the description\nof it be regularly made, and brought down hither, would serve for the\nSatisfaction and Repose of a great many tender Consciences, who are\nvery uneasy at Swearing to save their Benefices.\nThese great Makers of Distinction, have learn't to distinguish\nbetween active Swearing, and passive Swearing, between de facto\nLoyalty, and de jure Loyalty, and by this decent acquirement they\nobtain'd the Art of reconciling Swearing Allegiance without Loyalty,\nand Loyalty without Swearing, so that native and original Loyalty may\nbe preserv'd pure and uninterrupted, in spight of all subsequent\nOaths, to prevailing Usurpations.\nMany are the Mysteries, and vast the Advantages of this new invented\nMethod, Mental Reservations, Inuendoes, and Double Meanings are Toys\nto this, for they may be provided for in the litteral terms of an\nOath, but no Provision can be made against this; for these Men after\nthey have taken the Oath, make no Scruple to declare, they only Swear\nto be quiet, as long as they can make no Disturbance; that they are\nleft liberty still to espouse the Interest and Cause of their former\nPrince, they nicely distinguish between Obedience and Submission, and\ntell you a Slave taken into Captivity, tho' he Swears to live\npeaceably, does not thereby renounce his Allegiance to his natural\nPrince, nor abridge himself of a Right to attempt his own Liberty if\never opportunity present.\nHad these neat Distinctions been found out before, none of our\nSolunarian Clergy, no not the Patriarchs themselves surely would have\nstood out, and suffer'd such Depredations on their Fortunes and\nCharacters as they did; they wou'd never have been such Fools to have\nbeen turn'd out of their Livings for not Swearing, when they might\nhave learnt here that they might have swore to one Prince, and yet\nhave retain'd their Allegiance to another; might have taken an Oath\nto the new, without impeachment of their old Oaths to the absent\nPrince.------- It is great pity these Gentlemen had not gone up to\nthe Moon for Instruction in this difficult Case.\nThere they might have met with excellent Logicians, Men of most\nsublime Reasons, Dr. Overall, Dr. Sherlock, and all our nice\nExaminers of these things wou'd appear to be no Body to them; for as\nthe People in these Regions have an extraordinary Eye-sight, and the\nclearness of the Air contributs much to the help of their Opticks, so\nthey have without doubt a proportion'd clearness of discerning, by\nwhich they see as far into Mill-stones, and all sorts of Solids, as\nthe nature of things will permit, but above all, their Faculties are\nblest with two exceeding Advantages.\n1. With an extraordinary distinguishing Power, by which they can\ndistinguish even Indivisibles, part Unity it self, divide Principles,\nand distinguish Truth into such and so many minute Particles, till\nthey dwindle it away into a very Nose of Wax, and mould it into any\nForm they have occasion for, by which means they can distinguish\nthemselves into or out of any Opinion, either in Religion, Politicks\nor Civil Right, that their present Emergencies may call for.\n2. Their reasoning Faculties have this further advantage, that upon\noccasion they can see clearly for themselves, and prevent others from\nthe same discovery, so that when they have occasion to see any thing\nwhich presents for their own Advantage, they can search into the\nParticulars, make it clear to themselves, and yet let it remain dark\nand mysterious to all the World besides. Whether this is perform'd by\ntheir exceeding Penetration, or by casting an artificial Veil over\nthe Understandings of the Vulgar, Authors have not yet determin'd;\nbut that the Fact is true, admits of no Dispute.\nAnd the wonderful Benefit of these Things in point of Dispute is\nextraordinary, for they can see clearly they have the better of an\nArgument, when all the rest of the World think they have not a Word\nto say for themselves: 'Tis plain to them that this or that proves a\nthing, when Nature, by common Reasoning, knows no such Consequences.\nI confess I have seen some weak Attempts at this extraordinary\nTalent, particularly in the Disputes in England between the Church\nand the Dissenter, and between the High and Low Church, wherein\nPeople have tollerably well convinc'd themselves when no Body else\ncould see any thing of the Matter, as particularly the famous Mr.\nW---ly about the Antimonarchical Principles taught in the Dissenters\nAccademies; ditto in L----sly, about the Dissenters burning the City,\nand setting Fire to their own Houses to destroy their Neighbours; and\nanother famous Author, who prov'd that Christopher Love lost his Head\nfor attempting to pull down Monarchy by restoring King Charles the\nSecond.\nThese indeed are some faint Resemblances of what I am upon; but alas!\nthese are tender sort of People, that han't obtain'd a compleat\nVictory over their Consciences, but suffer that Trifle to reproach\nthem all the while they are doing it, to rebel against their resolv'd\nWills, and check them in the middle of the Design; from which\nInterruptions arise Palpitations of the Heart, Sickness and\nsqueamishness of Stomach; and these have proceeded to Castings and\nVomit, whereby they have been forc'd sometimes to throw up some such\nunhappy Truths as have confounded all the rest, and flown in their\nown Faces so violently, as in spight of Custom has made them blush\nand look downward; and tho' in kindness to one another they have\ncarefully lickt up one anothers Filth, yet this unhappy squeamishness\nof Stomach has spoil'd all the Design, and turn'd the Appetites of\ntheir Party, to the no small prejudice of a Cause that stood in need\nof more Art and more Face to carry it on as it shou'd be with a\nthoro'-pac'd Case-harden'd Policy, such as I have been relating, is\ncompleatly obtain'd in these Regions, where the Arts and Excellencies\nof sublime Reasonings are carried up to all the extraordinaries of\nbanishing Scruples, reconciling Contradictions, uniting Opposites,\nand all the necessary Circumstances requir'd in a compleat Casuist.\n'Tis not easily conceivable to what extraordinary Flights they have\ncarry'd this strength of Reasoning, for besides the distinguishing\nnicely between Truth and Error, they obtain a most refin'd Method of\ndistinguishing Truth it self into Seasons and Circumstances, and so\ncan bring any thing to be Truth, when it serves the turn that happens\njust then to be needful, and make the same thing to be false at\nanother time.\nAnd this method of circumstantiating Matters of Fact into Truth or\nFalshood, suited to occasion, is found admirably useful to the\nsolving the most difficult Phanomena of State, for by this Art the\nSolunarian Church made Persecution be against their Principles at one\ntime, and reducible to Practice at another. They made taking up Arms,\nand calling in Foreign Power to depose their Prince, consistent with\nNon-Resistance, and Passive Obedience; nay they went farther, they\ndistinguisht between a Crolian's taking Arms, and a Solunarians, and\nfairly prov'd this to be Rebellion and that to be Non-Resistance.\nNay, and which exceeded all the Power of human Art in the highest\ndegrees of Attainment that ever it arriv'd to on our side the Moon;\nthey turn'd the Tables so dexterously, as to argument upon one sort\nof Crolians, call'd Prestarians; that tho' they repented of the War\nthey had rais'd in former Times, and protested against the violence\noffer'd their Prince; and after another Party had in spight of them\nBeheaded him, took Arms against the other Party, and never left\ncontriving their Ruin, till they had brought in his Son, and set him\nupon the Throne again.\nYet by this most dextrous way of Twisting, Extending, Contracting,\nand Distinguishing of Phrases and Reasoning, they presently made it\nas plain as the Sun at Noon Day; that these Prestarians were\nKing-killers, Common-wealths Men, Rebels, Traytors, and Enemies to\nMonarchy; that they restor'd the Monarchy only in order to Destroy\nit, and that they Preach'd up Sedition, Rebellion and the like: This\nwas prov'd so plain by these sublime Distinctions, that they\nconvinc'd themselves and their Posterity of it, by a rare and newly\nacquir'd Art, found out by extraordinary Study, which proves the\nwonderful power of Custom, insomuch, that let any Man by this method,\ntell a Lye over a certain number of times, he shall arrive to a\nSatisfaction of its certainty, tho' he knew it to be a Fiction\nbefore, and shall freely tell it for a Truth all his life after.\nThus the Prestarians were call'd the Murtherers of the Father, tho'\nthey restor'd the Son, and all the Testimonials of their Sufferings,\nProtests and Insurrections to prevent his Death, signify'd nothing,\nfor this method of Distinguishing has that powerful Charm in it, that\nall those Trifles we call Proofs and Demonstration were of no use in\nthat Case. Custom brought the Story up to a Truth, and in an instant\nall the Crolians were hookt in under the general Name of Prestarians,\nat the same time to hook all Parties in the Crime.\nNow as it happen'd at last that these Solunarian Gentlemen found it\nnecessary to do the same thing themselves, viz. To lay aside their\nLoyalty, Depose, Fight against, shoot Bullets at, and throw Bombs at\ntheir King till they frighted him away, and sent him abroad to beg\nhis Bread. The Crolians began to take Heart and tell them, now they\nought to be Friends with them, and tell them no more of Rebellion and\nDisloyalty; nay, they carry'd it so far as to challenge them to bring\ntheir Loyalty to the Test, and compare Crolian Loyalty and Solunarian\nLoyalty together, and see who had rais'd more Wars, taken up Arms\noftenest, or appear'd in most Rebellions against their Kings; nay,\nwho had kill'd most Kings, the Crolians or the Solunarians, for there\nhaving been then newly fought a great Battle between the Solunarian\nChurch-Men under their new Prince, and the Armies of Foreign Succours\nunder their old King, in which their old King was beaten and forc'd\nto flie a second time, the Crolians told them that every Bullet they\nshot at the Battle was as much a murthering their King, as cutting\noff the Head with a Hatchet was a killing his Father.\nThese Arguments in our World would have been unanswerable, but when\nthey came to be brought to the Test of Lunar Reasoning, alas they\nsignify'd nothing; they distinguisht and distinguisht till they\nbrought the Prestarian War to be meer Rebellion, King-killing, Bloody\nand Unnatural; and the Solunarian fighting against their King, and\nturning him adrift to seek his Fortune, no prejudice at all to their\nLoyalty, no, nor to the famous Doctrine of Passive Obedience and\nAbsolute Subjection.\nWhen I saw this, I really bewail'd the unhappiness of some of our\nGentlemen in England, who standing exceedingly in need of such a\nwonderful Dexterity of Argument to defend their share in our late\nRevolution, and to reconcile it to their anticedent and subsequent\nConduct, should not be furnish'd from this more accurate World with\nthe suitable Powers, in order the better to defend them against the\nBanter and just Raillery of their ill-natur'd Enemies the Whigs.\nBy this they might have attained suitable reserves of Argument to\ndistinguish themselves out of their Loyalty, and into their Loyalty,\nas occasion presented to dismiss this Prince, and entertain that, as\nthey found it to their purpose; but above all, they might have learnt\na way how to justify Swearing to one King and Praying for another,\nEating one Prince's Bread and doing another Prince's Work, Serving\none King they don't Love and Loving another they don't Serve; they\nmight easily reconcile the Schisms of the Church, and prove they are\nstill Loyal Subjects to King James, while they are only forc'd\nBonds-Men to the Act of Settlement, for the sake of that comfortable\nImportance, call'd Food and Rainment; and thus their Reputation might\nhave been sav'd, which is most unhappily tarnish'd and blur'd, with\nthe malicious Attacks of the Whigs on one Hand, and the Non-Jurants\non the other.\nThese Tax them as above with Rebellion by their own Principles, and\ncontradicting the Doctrin of Passive Submission and Non-Resistance,\nby taking up Arms against their Prince, calling in a Foreign Power,\nand deposing him: They charge them with killing the Lord's Anointed,\nby Shooting at him at the Boyn, where if he was not kill'd it was his\nown fault, at least 'tis plain 'twas none of theirs.\nOn the other Hand, the Non Jurant Clergy charge them with Schism,\ndeclare the whole Church of England Schismaticks, and breakers off\nfrom the general Union of the Church, in renouncing their Allegiance,\nand Swearing to another Power, their former Prince being yet alive.\n'Tis confest all the Answers they have been able to make to these\nthings, are very weak and mean, unworthy Men of their Rank and\nCapacities, and 'tis pity they should not be assisted by some kind\nCommunication of these Lunar Arguments and Distinctions, without\nwhich, and till they can obtain which, a Conforming Jacobite must be\nthe absurdest Contradiction in Nature; a thing that admits of no\nmanner of Defence, no, not by the People themselves, and which they\nwould willingly abandon, but that they can find no side to join with\nthem.\nThe Dissenting Jacobites have some Plea for themselves, for let their\nOpinion be never so repugnant to their own Interest, or general\nVogue, they are faithful to some thing, and they wont joyn with these\nPeople, because they have Perjur'd their Faith, and yet pretend to\nadhere to it at the same time. The Conforming Whigs won't receive\nthem, because they pretend to rail at the Government they have Sworn\nto, and espouse the Interest they have Sworn against; so that these\npoor Creatures have but one way left them, which is to go along with\nme, next time I Travel to the Moon, and that will most certainly do\ntheir Business, for when they come down again, they will be quite\nanother sort of Men, the Distinctions, the Power of Argument, the way\nof Reasoning, they will be then furnish'd with will quite change the\nScene of the World with them, they'll certainly be able to prove they\nare the only People, both in Justice, in Politicks and in Prudence;\nthat the extremities of every side are in the Wrong, they'll prove\ntheir Loyalty preserv'd, untainted, thro' all the Swearings,\nFightings, Shootings and the like, and no Body will be able to come\nto the Test with them; so that upon the whole, they are all\ndistracted if they don't go up to the Moon for Illumination, and that\nthey may easily do in the next Consolidator.\nBut as this is a very long Digression, and for which I am to beg my\nReader's Pardon, being an Error I slipt into from my abundant respect\nto these Gentlemen, and for their particular Instruction, I shall\nendeavour to make my Reader amends, by keeping more close to my\nSubject.\nTo return therefore to the Historical part of the Solunarian\nChurch-Men, in the World in the Moon.\nHaving as is related Depos'd their King, and plac'd the Crown upon\nthe Head of the Prince that came to their assistance, a new Scene\nbegan all over the Kingdom.\n1. A terrible and bloody War began thro' all the parts of the Lunar\nWorld, where their banish'd Prince and his new Allie had any\nInterest; and the new King having a universal Character over all the\nNorthern Kingdoms of the Moon, he brought in a great many Potent\nKings, Princes, Emperors and States, to take part with him, and so it\nbecame the most general War that had happen'd in those Ages.\nI did not trouble my self to enquire into the particular Successes of\nthis War, but at what had a more particular regard to the Country\nfrom whence I came, and for whose Instruction I have design'd these\nSheets, the Strife of Parties, the Internal Feuds at home, and their\nAnalogy to ours; and whatever is instructively to be deduced from\nthem, was the Subject of immediate Inquiry.\nNo sooner was this Prince plac'd on the Throne, but according to his\nPromises to them that invited him over, he conven'd the Estates of\nthe Realm, and giving them free Liberty to make, alter, add or\nrepeal, all such Laws as they thought fit, it must be their own fault\nif they did not Establish themselves upon such Foundation of Liberty,\nand Right, as they desir'd; for he gave them their full Swing, never\ninterpos'd one Negative upon them for several Years, and let them do\nalmost every thing they pleas'd.\nThis full Liberty had like to have spoil'd all, for as is before\nnoted, this Nation had one unhappy Quality they could never be broke\nof, always to be falling out one among another.\nThe Crolians, according to Capitulation, demanded the full Liberty\nand Toleration of Religion, which the Solunarians had condition'd\nwith them for, when they drew them off from joyning with the old\nKing, and when they promis'd to come to a Temper, and to be Brethren\nin Peace and Love ever after.\nNor were the Solunarian Church-Men backward, either to remember, or\nperform the Conditions but by the consent of the King, who had been\nby agreement made Guarantee of their former Stipulations, an Act was\ndrawn up in full Form, and as compleat, as both satisfy'd the desires\nof the Crolians, and testify'd the Honesty and Probity of the\nSolunarians, as they were abstractedly and moderately consider'd.\nDuring the whole Reign of this King, this Union of Parties continu'd\nwithout any considerable Interruption, there was indeed brooding\nMischiefs which hovered over every accident, in order to generate\nStrife, but the Candor of the Prince, and the Prudence of his\nMinisters, kept it under for a long time.\nAt last an occasion offer'd it self, which gave an unhappy Stroke to\nthe Nation's Peace. The King thro' innumerable Hazards, terrible\nBattles and a twelve Years War, had reduc'd his powerful Adversary to\nsuch a necessity of Peace, that he became content to abandon the\nfugitive King, and to own the Title of this Warlike Prince; and upon\nthese, among various other Conditions, very Honourable for him, and\nhis Allies, and by which vast Conquests were surrendred, and\ndisgorg'd to the Losers, a Peace was made to the Universal\nSatisfaction of all those Parts of the Moon that had been involv'd in\na tiresome and expensive War.\nThis Peace was no sooner made, but the Inhabitants of this unhappy\nCountry, according to the constant Practice of the Place, fell out in\nthe most horrid manner among themselves, and with the very Prince\nthat had done all these great things for them; and I cannot forget\nhow the Old Gentleman I had these Relations from, being once deeply\nengag'd in Discourse with some Senators of that Country, and hearing\nthem reproach the Memory of that Prince from whom they receiv'd so\nmuch, and on the foot of whose Gallantry and Merit the Constitution\nthen subsisted, it put him into some heat, and he told them to their\nFaces that they were guilty both of Murther and Ingratitude.\nI thought the Charge was very high, but as they return'd upon him,\nand challeng'd him to make it out, he answer'd he was ready to do it,\nand went on thus.\nHis Majesty, said he, left a quiet, retir'd, compleatly happy\nCondition, full of Honour, belov'd of his Country, Vallu'd and\nEsteem'd, as well as Fear'd by his Enemies, to come over hither at\nyour own Request, to deliver you from the Encroachments and Tyranny\nas you call'd it, of your Prince.\nEver since he came hither, he has been your meer Journy-Man, your\nServant, your Souldier of Fortune, he has Fought for you, Fatigu'd\nand Harras'd his Person, and rob'd himself of all his Peace for you;\nhe has been in a constant Hurry, and run thro' a Million of Hazards\nfor you; he has convers'd with Fire and Blood, Storms at Sea, Camps\nand Trenches ashore, and given himself no rest for twelve Years, and\nall for your Use, Safety and Repose: In requital of which, he has\nbeen always treated with Jealousies, and Suspitions, with Reproaches,\nand Abuses of all Sorts, and on all Occasions, till the ungrateful\nTreatment of the Solunarians eat into his very Soul, tir'd it with\nserving an unthankful Nation, and absolutely broke his Heart; for\nwhich reason I think him as much Murther'd as his Predecessor was,\nwhose Head was cut off by his Subjects.\nI could not when this was over, but ask the Old Gentlemen, what was\nthe reason of his Exclamation, and how it was the People treated\ntheir Prince upon this occasion?\nHe told me it was a grievous Subject, and a long one, and too long to\nrehearse, but he would give me a short Abridgment of it; and not to\nlook back into his Wars, in which he was abominably ill serv'd, his\nsubjects constantly ill treated him in giving him Supplies too late,\nthat he cou'd not get into the Field, nor forward his Preparations in\ntime to be ready for his Enemies, who frequently were ready to insult\nhim in his Quarters.\nBy giving him sham Taxes and Funds, that raised little or no Mony, by\nwhich he having borrow'd Mony of his People by Anticipation, the\nFunds not answering, he contracted such vast Debts as the Nation\ncould never Pay which brought the War into disrepute, sunk the Credit\nof his Exchequer, and fill'd the Nation with Murmurs and Complaint.\nBy betraying his Counsel and well laid Designs to his Enemies,\nselling their Native Country to Foreigners, retarding their Navies\nand Expeditions, till the Enemies were provided to receive them,\nbetraying their Merchants and Trade, spending vast Sums to fit out\nFleets, just time enough to go Abroad, and do nothing, and then get\nHome again.\nBut as these were too numerous Evils, and too long to repeat, the\nparticular things he related to in his Discourse, were these that\nfollow.\nThere had been a hasty Peace concluded with a furious and powerful\nEnemy, the King foresaw it would be of no continnuace, and that the\ndemise of a neighbouring King, who by all appearance could not live\nlong, would certainly embroil them again.----- He saw that Prince\nkeep up numerous Legions of Forces, in order to be in a posture to\nbreak the Peace with advantage. This the King fairly represented to\nthem, and told them the necessity of keeping up such a Force, and for\nsuch a Time, at least as might be necessary to awe the Enemy from\nputting any affront upon them in case of the Death of that Prince,\nwhich they daily expected.\nThe Party who had all along malign'd the Prosperity of this Prince,\ntook fire at the Offer, and here began another State Plot, which tho'\nit hookt in two or three sets of Men for different Ends, yet\naltogether join'd in affronting and ill treating their Prince, upon\nthis Article of the Army.\nThe Nation had been in danger enough from the designs of former\nPrinces invading their Priviledges, and putting themselves in a\nPosture to Tyrannize by the help of standing Forces, and the Party\nthat first took Fire at this Proposal tho' the very same Men who in\nthe time of an Abrogratzian Prince, were for caressing him, and\ngiving him Thanks for his Standing Army, as has been noted before,\nwere the very People that began the outcry against this Demand, and\nso specious were the Pretences they made, that they drew in the very\nCrolians themselves upon the pretence of Liberty, and Exemption from\nArbitrary Methods of Government to oppose their King.\nIt griev'd this good Prince to be suspected of Tyrannick Designs, and\nthat by a Nation who he had done so much, and ventur'd so far to save\nfrom Tyranny, and Standing Armies; 'twas in vain he represented to\nthem the pressing occasion; in vain he gave them a Description of\napproaching Dangers, and the threatning posture of the Enemies\nArmies; in vain he told them of the probabilities of renewing the\nWar, and how keeping but a needful Force might be a means of\npreventing it; in vain he propos'd the subjecting what Force should\nbe necessary to the Absolute Power, both as to Time and Number of\ntheir own Cortez or National Assembly.\nIt was all one, the Design being form'd in the Breasts of those who\nwere neither Friends to the Nation, nor the King, those Reasons which\nwould have been of Force in another Case, made them the more eager;\nbitter Reflections were made on the King, and scurrilous Lampoons\npublish'd upon the Subject of Tyrants, and Governing by Armies.\nNothing could be more ungrateful to a generous Prince, nor could any\nthing more deeply affect this King, than whom none ever had a more\ngenuine, single-hearted Design for the Peoples good, but above all,\nlike Casar in the Case of Brutus, it heartily mov'd him to find\nhimself push'd at by those very People whom he had all along seen,\npretending to adhere to his Interest, and the Publick Benefit, which\nhe had always taken care should never be parted, and to find these\nPeople join against this Proposal, as a Design against their\nLiberties, and as a Foundation of Tyranny heartily and sensibly\nafflicted him.\nIt was a strange Mistery, and not easily unriddled, that those Men\nwho had always a known aversion to the Interest of the depos'd King\nshould fall in with this Party, and those that were Friends to the\ngeneral Good, never forgave it them.\nAll that could be said to excuse them, was the Plot I am speaking of,\nthat by carrying this Point for that Party, they hookt in those\nforward People to join in a popular Cry of Liberty and Property,\nthings they were never fond of before, and to make some Settlement of\nthe Peoples Claims which they always had oppos'd, and which they\nwould since have been very glad to have repeal'd.\nSo great an Ascendant had the Personal Spleen of this Party over\ntheir other Principles, that they were content to let the Liberties\nof the People be declar'd in their highest Claims, rather than not\nobtain this one Article, which they knew would so exceedingly mortify\ntheir Prince, and strengthen the Nations Enemies. They freely join'd\nin Acts of Succession, Abjuration, Declaration of the Power and\nClaims of the People, and the Superiority of their Right to the\nPrinces Prerogative, and abundance of such things, which they could\nnever be otherwise brought to.\n'Tis true these were great things, but 'twas thought all this might\nhave been obtain'd in Conjunction with their Prince, rather than by\nputting Affronts and Mortifications upon the Man that had next to the\nInfluence of Heaven been the only Agent of restoring them to a Power\nand Capacity of enjoying, as well as procuring, such things as\nNational Priviledges.\n'Twas vigorosly alledg'd that Standing Armies in times of Peace, were\ninconsistent with the Publick Safety, the Laws and Constitutions of\nall the Nations in the Moon.\nBut these Allegations were strenuously answer'd, that it was true\nwithout the consent of the great National Council, it was so, but\nthat being obtain'd, it was not illegal, and publick Necessities\nmight make that consent, not only legal, but convenient.\n'Twas all to no purpose, the whole was carry'd with a Torrent of\nClamour and Reflection against the good Prince, who consented,\nbecause he would in nothing oppose the Current of the People; but\nwithal, told them plainly what would be the consequences of their\nHeat, which they have effectually found true since to their Cost, and\nto the loss of some Millions of Treasure.\nFor no sooner was this Army broke, which was the best ever that\nNation saw, and was justly the Terror of the Enemy, but the great\nMonarch we mention'd before, broke all Measures with this Prince and\nthe Confederate Nations, a Proof what just apprehensions they had of\nhis Conduct, at the head of such an Army. For they broke with\ncontempt, a Treaty which the Prince upon a prospect of this\nunkindness of his People had entred into with the Enemy, and which he\nengag'd in, if possible, to prevent a new War, which he foresaw he\nshould be very unfit to begin, or carry on, and which they would\nnever have dar'd to break had not this Feud happen'd.\nIt was but a little before I came into this Country, when such\nrepeated Accounts came, of the Incroachments, Insults and\nPreparations of their great powerful Neighbour, that all the World\nsaw the necessity of a War, and the very People who were to feel it\nmost apply'd to the Prince to begin it.\nHe was forward enough to begin it, and in compliance with his People,\nresolv'd on it; but the Grief of the usage he had receiv'd, the\nunkind Treatment he had met with from those very People that brought\nhim thither, had sunk so deep upon his Spirits, that he could never\nrecover it; but being very weak in Body and Mind, and join'd to a\nslight hurt he receiv'd by a fall from his Horse, he dyed, to the\nunspeakable grief of all his Subjects that wish'd well to their\nNative Country.\nThis was the melancholly Account of this great Prince's end, and I\nhave been told that at once every Year, there is a kind of Fast, or\nsolemn Commemoration kept up for the Murther of that former Prince,\nwho, as I noted, was Beheaded by his Subjects; So it seems some of\nthe People, who are of Opinion this Prince was Murther'd by the ill\nTreatment of his Friends, a way which I must own, is the cruellest of\nDeaths, keep the same Day, to commemorate his Death, and this is a\nDay, in which it seems both Parties are very free with one another,\nas to Rallery and ill Language.\nBut the Friends of this last Prince have a double advantage, for they\nalso commemorate the Birth Day of this Prince, and are generally very\nmerry on that Day; and the custom is at their Feast on that Day, just\nlike our drinking Healths, they pledge one another to the immortal\nMemory of their Deliverer; as the Historical part of this Matter was\nabsolutely necessary to introduce the following Remarks, and to\ninstruct the Ignorant in those things, I hope it shall not be thought\na barren Digression, especially when I shall tell you that it is a\nmost exact Representation of what is yet to come in a Scene of\nAffairs, of which I must make a short Abstract, by way of\nIntroduction.\nThe deceas'd Prince we have heard of, was succeeded by his Sister\nin-Law, the second Daughter of the banish'd Prince, a Lady of an\nextraordinary Character, of the Old Race of their Kings, a Native by\nBirth, a Solunarian by Profession; exceeding Pious, Just and Good, of\nan Honesty peculiar to her self, and for which she was justly belov'd\nof all sorts and degrees of her Subjects.\nThis Princess having the Experience of her Father and Grand-father\nbefore her, join'd to her own Prudence and Honesty of Design; it was\nno wonder if she prudently shun'd all manner of rash Counsels, and\nendeavour'd to carry it with a steady Hand between her contending\nParties.\nAt her first coming to the Crown, she made a solemn Declaration of\nher resolutions for Peace and just Government; she gave the Crolians\nher Royal Word, that she would inviolably preserve the Toleration of\ntheir Religion and Worship, and always afford them her Protection,\nand by this she hop'd they would be easy.\nBut to the Solunarians, as those among whom she had been Educated,\nand whose Religion she had always profess'd, been train'd up in, and\nPiously persued; she express'd her self with an uncommon Tenderness,\ntold them they should be the Men of her Favour, and those that were\nmost zealous for that Church should have most of her Countenance; and\nshe back'd this soon after with an unparallel'd Act of Royal Bounty\nto them, freely parting with a considerable Branch of her Royal\nRevenue, for the poor Priests of that Religion, of which there were\nmany in the remote Parts of her Kingdom.\nWhat vast Consequences, and prodigiously differing from the Design,\nmay Words have when mistaken and misayplyed by the Hearers. Never\nwere significant Expressions spoken from a sincere, honest and\ngenerous Principle, with a single Design to ingage all the Subjects\nin the Moon, to Peace and Union, so perverted, misapply'd and turn'd\nby a Party, to a meaning directly contrary to the Royal Thoughts of\nthe Queen: For from this very Expression, most Zealous, grew all the\nDivisions and Subdivisions in the Solunarian Church, to the Ruin of\ntheir own Cause, and the vast advantage of the Crolian Interest. The\neager Men of the Church, especially those we have been talking of,\nhastily catch'd at this Expression of the Queen, Most Zealous, and\nMillions of fatal Constructions, and unhappy Consequences they made\nof it, some of which are as follows.\n1. They took it to imply that the Queen whatever she had said to the\nCrolians, really design'd their Destruction, and that those that were\nof that Opinion, must be meant by the Most Zealous Members of the\nSolunarian Church, and they could understand Zeal no otherwise than\ntheir own way.\n2. From this Speech, and their mistaking the Words Most Zealous,\narose an unhappy Distinction among the Solunarians themselves, some\nZealous, some More Zealous, which afterwards divided them into two\nmost opposite Parties, being fomented by an accident of a Book\npublish'd on an Occasion, of which presently.\nThe Consequences of this mistake, appear'd presently in the Most\nZealous, in their offering all possible Insults to the Crolian\nDissenters, Preaching them down, Printing them down, and Talking them\ndown, as a People not fit to be suffer'd in the Nation, and now they\nthought they had the Game sure.\nDown with the Crolians began to be all the Cry, and truly the\nCrolians themselves began to be uneasy, and had nothing to rely upon\nbut the Queens Promise, which however her Majesty always made good to\nthem.\nThe other Party proceeded so far, that they begun to Insult the very\nQueen her self, upon the Matter of her Word, and one of her\nCollege-Priests told her plainly in Print, she could not be a true\nFriend to the Solunarian Church, if she did not declare War against,\nand root out all the Crolians in her Dominions.\nBut these Proceedings met with a Check, by a very odd accident: A\ncertain Author of those Countries, a very mean, obscure and\ndespicable Fellow, of no great share of Wit, but that had a very\nunlucky way of telling his Story, seeing which way things were a\ngoing, writes a Book, and Personating this high Solunarian Zeal,\nmusters up all their Arguments, as if they were his own, and\nstrenuously pretends to prove that all the Crolians ought to be\nDestroy'd, Hang'd, Banish'd, and the D----l and all. As this Book was\na perfect Surprize to all the Country, so the Proceedings about it on\nall sides were as extraordinary.\nThe Crolians themselves were surpriz'd at it, and so closely had the\nAuthor couch'd his Design, that they never saw the irony of the\nStile, but began to look about them, to see which way they should fly\nto save themselves.\nThe Men of Zeal we talk'd of, were so blinded with the Notion which\nsuited so exactly with their real Design, that they hugg'd the Book,\napplauded the unknown Author, and plac'd the Book next their Oraclar\nWritings, or Laws of Religion.\nThe Author was all this while conceal'd, and the Paper had all the\neffect he wish'd for.\nFor as it caus'd these first Gentlemen to caress, applaud and approve\nit, and thereby discover'd their real Intention, so it met with\nAbhorrence and Detestation in all the Men of Principles, Prudence and\nModeration in the Kingdom, who tho' they were Solunarians in\nReligion, yet were not for Blood, Desolation and Persecution of their\nBrethren, but with the Queen were willing they should enjoy their\nLiberties and Estates, they behaving themselves quietly and peaceably\nto the Government.\nAt last it came out that it was writ by a Crolian; but good God! what\na Clamour was rais'd at the poor Man, the Crolians flew at him like\nLightning, ignorantly and blindly, not seeing that he had sacrific'd\nhimself and his Fortunes in their behalf; they rumag'd his Character\nfor Reproaches, tho' they could find little that way to hurt him;\nthey plentifully loaded him with ill Language and Railing, and took a\ngreat deal of pains to let the World see their own Ignorance and\nIngratitude.\nThe Ministers of State, tho' at that time of the fiery Party, yet\nseeing the general Detestation of such a Proposal, and how ill it\nwould go down with the Nation, tho' they approv'd the thing, yet\nbegan to scent the Design, and were also oblig'd to declare against\nit, for fear of being thought of the same Mind.\nThus the Author was Proscrib'd by Proclamation, and a Reward of 50000\nHecato's, a small imaginary Coin in those Parts, put upon his Head.\nThe Cortez of the Nation being at the same time assembled join'd in\nCensuring the Book, and thus the Party blindly damn'd their own\nPrinciples for meer shame of the practice, not daring to own the\nthing in publick which they had underhand profest, and the fury of\nall Parties fell upon the poor Author.\nThe Man fled the first popular Fury, but at last being betraid fell\ninto the Hands of the publick Ministry.\nWhen they had him they hardly knew what to do with him; they could\nnot proceed against him as Author of a Proposal for the Destruction\nof the Crolians because it appear'd he was a Crolian himself; they\nwere loth to charge him with suggesting that the Solunarian\nChurch-men were guilty of such a Design, least he should bring their\nown Writings to prove it true; so they fell to wheadling him with\ngood Words to throw himself into their Hands and submit, giving him\nthat Geu-gau the Publick Faith for a Civil and Gentleman-like\nTreatment; the Man, believing like a Coxcomb that they spoke as they\nmeant, quitted his own Defence, and threw himself on the Mercy of the\nQueen as he thought; but they abusing their Queen with false\nRepresentations, Perjur'd all their Promises with him, and treated\nhim in a most barbarous manner, on pretence that there were no such\nPromises made, tho' he prov'd it upon them by the Oath of the Persons\nto whom they were made.\nThus they laid him under a heavy Sentence, Fin'd him more than they\nthought him able to pay, and order'd him to be expos'd to the Mob in\nthe Streets.\nHaving him at this Advantage they set upon him with their Emissaries\nto discover to them his Adherents, as they call'd them, and promis'd\nhim great Things on one Hand, threatning him with his utter Ruin on\nthe other; and the Great Scribe of the Country, with another of their\ngreat Courtiers, took such a low Step as to go to him to the Dungeon\nwhere they had put him, to see if they could tempt him to betray his\nFriends. The Comical Dialogue between them there the Author of this\nhas seen in Manuscript, exceeding diverting, but having not time to\nTranslate it 'tis omitted for the present; tho' he promises to\npublish it in its proper Season for publick Instruction.\nHowever for the present it may suffice to tell the World, that\nneither by promises of Reward or fear of Punishment they could\nprevail upon him to discover any thing, and so it remains a Secret to\nthis day.\nThe Title of this unhappy Book was The shortest way with the\nCrolians. The Effects of it were various, as will be seen in our\nensuing Discourse: As to the Author nothing was more unaccountable\nthan the Circumstances of his Treatment; for he met with all that\nFate which they must expect who attempt to open the Eyes of a Nation\nwilfully blind.\nThe hot Men of the Solunarian Church damn'd him without Bell, Book,\nor Candle; the more Moderate pitied him, but lookt on as unconcern'd:\nBut the Crolians, for whom he had run this Venture, us'd him worst of\nall; for they not only abandon'd him, but reproacht him as an Enemy\nthat would ha' them destroy'd: So one side rail'd at him because they\ndid understand him, and the other because they did not.\nThus the Man sunk under the general Neglect, was ruin'd and undone,\nand left a Monument of what every Man must expect that serves a good\nCause, profest by an unthankful People.\nAnd here it was I found out that my Lunar Philosopher was only so in\nDisguise, and that he was no Philosopher, but the very Man I have\nbeen talking of.\nFrom this Book, and the Treatment its Author receiv'd, for they us'd\nhim with all possible Rigour, a new Scene of Parties came upon the\nStage, and this Queen's Reign began to be fill'd with more Divisions\nand Feuds than any before her.\nThese Parties began to be so numerous and violent that it endanger'd\nthe Publick Good, and gave great Disadvantages to the general Affairs\nabroad.\nThe Queen invited them all to Peace and Union, but 'twas in vain;\nnay, one had the Impudence to publish that to procure Peace and Union\nit was necessary to suppress all the Crolians, and have no Party but\none, and then all must be of a Mind.\nFrom this heat of Parties all the moderate Men fell in with their\nQueen, and were heartily for Peace and Union: The other, who were now\ndistinguish'd by the Title of High Solunarians, call'd these all\nCrolians and Low Solunarians, and began to Treat them with more\nInveteracy than they us'd to do the Crolians themselves, calling them\nTraytors to their Country, Betrayers of their Mother, Serpents\nharbour'd in the Bosom, who bite, sting and hiss at the Hand that\nsuccour'd them; and in short the Enmity grew so violent, that from\nhence proceeded one of the subtilest, foolishest, deep, shallow\nContrivances and Plots that ever was hatcht or set on foot by any\nParty of Men in the whole Moon, at least who pretended to any Brains,\nor to half a degree of common Understanding.\nThere had always been Dislikes and Distasts between even the most\nmoderate Solunarians and the Crolians, as I have noted in the\nbeginning of this Relation, and these were deriv'd from Dissenting in\nOpinions of Religion, ancient Feuds, private Interest, Education, and\nthe like; and the Solunarians had frequently, on pretence of securing\nthe Government, made Laws to exclude the Crolians from any part of\nthe Administration, unless they submitted to some Religious Tests and\nCeremonies which were prescrib'd them.\nNow as the keeping them out of Offices was more the Design than the\nConversion of the Crolians to the Solunarian Church, the Crolians, at\nleast many of them, submitted to the Test, and frequently Conform'd\nto qualify themselves for publick Employments.\nThe most moderate of the Solunarians were in their Opinion against\nthis practice, and the High Men taking advantage of them, drew them\nin to Concur in making a Law with yet more Severity against them,\neffectually to keep them out of Employment.\nThe low Solunarians were easy to be drawn into this Project, as it\nwas only a Confirming former Laws of their own making, and all Things\nrun fair for the Design; but as the High Men had further Ends in it\nthan barely reducing the Crolians to Conformity, they coucht so many\ngross Clauses into their Law, that even the Grandees of the\nSolunarians themselves could not comply with; nay even the Patriarchs\nof the Solunarian Church declar'd against it, as tending to\nPersecution and Confusion.\nThis Disappointment enrag'd the Party, and that very Rage entirely\nruin'd their Project; for now the Nobility, the Patriarchs, and all\nthe wise Men of the Nation, joining together against these Men of\nHeat and Fury, the Queen began to see into their Designs, and as she\nwas of a most pious and peaceable Temper, she conceiv'd a just Hatred\nof so wicked and barbarous a Design, and immediately dismiss'd from\nher Council and Favour the Great Scribe, and several others who were\nLeaders in the Design, to the great mortification of the whole Party,\nand utter Ruin of the intended Law against the Crolians.\nHere I could not but observe, as I have done before in the Case of\nthe banish'd King, how impolitick these high Solunarian Church-men\nacted in all their Proceedings, for had they contented themselves by\nlittle and little to ha' done their Work, they had done it\neffectually; but pushing at Extremities they overshot themselves, and\nruin'd all.\nFor the Grandees and Patriarchs made but a few trifling Objections at\nfirst, nay and came off, and yielded some of them too; and if these\nwould ha' consented to ha' parted with some Clauses which they have\nwillingly left out since, they had had it pass'd; but these were as\nhot Men always are, too eager and sure of their Game, they thought\nall was their own, and so they lost themselves.\nIf they rail'd at the low Solunarian Church-men before, they doubled\ntheir Clamors at them now, all the Patriarchs, and all the Nobility\nand Grandees, nay even the Queen her self came under their Censure,\nand every Body who was not of their Mind were Prestarians and\nCrolians.\nAs this Rage of theirs was implacable, so, as I hinted before, it\ndrove them into another Subdivision of Parties, and now began the\nMysterious Plot to be laid which I mention'd before; for the Cortez\nbeing summon'd, and the Law being proposed, some of these high\nSolunarians appear'd in Confederacy with the Crolians, in perfect\nConfederacy with them, a thing no Body would have imagin'd could ever\nha' been brought to pass.\nNow as these sorts of Plots must always be carry'd very nicely, so\nthese high Gentlemen who Confederated with the Crolians, having, to\nspight the other, resolv'd effectually to prevent the passing the Law\nagainst the Qualification of the Crolians, it was not their Business\nimmediately to declare themselves against it as a Law, but by still\nloading it with some Extravagance or other, and pushing it on to some\nintolerable Extreme, secure its miscarriage.\nIn the managing this Plot, one of their Authors was specially\nemploy'd, and that all that was really true of the Crolian Dissenters\nmight be ridicul'd, his Work was to draw monstrous Pictures of them,\nwhich no Body could believe; this took immediately, for now People\nbegan to look at their Shooes to see if they were not Cloven Footed\nas they went a long Streets; and at last finding they were really\nshap'd like the rest of the Lunar Inhabitants, they went back to the\nAuthor, who was a Learned Member of a certain Seminary, or\nBrother-hood of the Solunarian Clergy, and enquir'd if he were not\nMad, Distracted and Raving, or Moon-blind, and in want of the\nthinking Engine; but finding all things right there, and that he was\nin his Senses, especially in a Morning when he was a little free\nfrom, &c. that he was a Good, Honest, Jolly, Solunarian Priest, and\nno room could be found for an Objection there. Upon all these\nSearches it presently appear'd, and all Men concluded it was a meer\nFanatick Crolian Plot; that this High Party of all were but\nPretenders, and meer Traytors to the True High Solunarian Church-Men,\nthat wearing the same Cloth had herded among them in Disguise, only\nto wheedle them into such wild Extravagancies as must of necessity\nconfuse their Councils, expose their Persons, and ruin their Cause.\n---- According to the like Practice, put upon their Abrograzian\nPrince, and of which I have spoken before.\nAnd since I am upon the detection of this most refin'd Practice, I\ncrave leave to descend to some particular Instances, which will the\nbetter evince the Truth of this Matter, and make it appear that\neither this was really a Crolian Plot, or else all these People were\nperfectly Distracted; and as their Wits in that Lunar World, are much\nhigher strain'd than ours, so their Lunacy, where it happens, must\naccording to the Rules of Mathematical Nature, bear an extream Equal\nin proportion.\nThis College Fury of a Man was the first on whom this useful\nDiscovery was made, and having writ several Learned Tracts wherein he\ninvited the People to Murther and Destroy all the Crolians, Branded\nall the Solunarian Patriarchs, Clergy and Gentry that would not come\ninto his Proposal, with the name of Cowards, Traytors and Betrayers\nof Lunar Religion; having beat the Concionazimir at a great Assembly\nof the Cadirs, or Judges, and told them all the Crolians were Devils,\nand they were all Perjur'd that did not use them as such: He carry'd\non Matters so dexterously, and with such surprizing Success, that he\nfill'd even the Solunarians themselves with Horror at his\nProposals.----- And as I happen'd to be in one of their publick Halls\nwhere all such Writings as are new are laid a certain time to be read\nby every Comer, I saw a little knot of Men round a Table, where one\nwas reading this Book.\nThere were two Solunarian High Priests in their proper Vestments, one\nPrivy Councellor of the State, one other Noble Man, and one who had\nin his Hat a Token, to signifie that he possest one of the fine\nFeathers of the Consolidator, of which I have given the Description\nalready.\nThe Book being read by one of the habited Priests, he starts up with\nsome warmth, by the Moon, says he, I have found this Fellow out, he\nis certainly a Crolian, a meer Prestarian Crolian, and is crept into\nour Church only in Disguise, for 'tis certain all this is but meer\nBanter and Irony to expose us, and to ridicule the Solunarian\nInterest.\nThe Privy Councellor took it presently, whether he is a Crolian or\nno, says he, I cannot tell, but he has certainly done the Crolians so\nmuch Service, that if they had hir'd him to act for them, they could\nnot have desir'd he should serve them better.\nTruly, says the Man of the Feather, I was always for pulling down the\nCrolians, for I thought them dangerous to the State; but this Man has\nbrought the Matter nearer to my View, and shown me what destroying\nthem is, for he put me upon examining the Consequences, and now I\nfind it would be lopping off the Limbs of the Government, and laying\nit at the Mercy of the Enemy that they might lop off its Head; I\nassure you he has done the Crolians great Service, for whereas\nabundance of our Men of the Feather were for routing the Crolians,\nthey lately fell down to 134 or thereabouts.\nAll this confirm'd the first Man's Opinion that he was a Crolian in\nDisguise, or an Emissary employ'd by them to ruin the Project of\ntheir Enemies; for these Crolians are damn'd cunning People in their\nway, and they have Mony enough to engage Hirelings to their side.\nAnother Party concern'd in this Plot was an old cast-out Solunarian\nPriest, who, tho' professing himself a Solunarian, was turn'd out for\nadhering to the Abrograzian King, a mighty Stickler for the Doctrin\nof absolute Subjection.\nThis Man draws the most monstrous Picture of a Crolian that could be\ninvented, he put him in a Wolf's Skin with long Asses Ears, and hung\nhim all over full of Associations, Massacres, Persecutions,\nRebellions, and Blood. Here the People began to stare again, and a\nCrolian cou'd not go along the Street but they were alway's looking\nfor the long Ears, the Wolf's Claws, and the like; 'till at last\nnothing of these Things appearing, but the Crolians looking and\nacting like other Folks, they begun to examine the Matter, and found\nthis was a meer Crolian Plot too, and this Man was hir'd to run these\nextravagant lengths to point out the right meaning.\nThe Discovery being made, People ever since understand him that when\nhe talks of the Dissenters Associations, Murthers, Persecutions, and\nthe like, he means that his Readers should look back to the Murthers,\nOppressions and Persecutions they had suffered for several past\nyears, and the Associations that were now forming to bring them into\nthe same Condition again.\nFrom this famous Author I could not but proceed to observe the\nfarther Progress of this most refin'd piece of Cunning, among the\nvery great Ones, Grandees, Feathers, and Consolidators of the\nCountry. For these Cunning Crolians manag'd their Intriegues so\nnicely, that they brought about a Famous Division even among the High\nSolunarian Party themselves; and whereas the Law of Qualification was\nreviv'd again, and in great Danger of being compleated; these subtle\nCrolians brought over One Hundred and Thirty Four of the Feathers in\nthe Famous Consolidator to be of their side, and to Contrive the\nutter Destruction of it; and thus fell the Design which the High\nSolunarian Church Men had laid for the Ruin of the Crolians Interest,\nby their own Friends first joyning in all the Extremes they had\nproposed, and then pushing it so much farther, and to such mad\nPeriods that the very highest of them stood amaz'd at the Design,\nstartled, flew back and made a full stop; they were willing to Ruin\nthe Crolians, but they were not willing to Ruin the whole Nation. The\nmore these Men began to consider, the more furiously these Plotters\ncarry'd on their Extravagances; at last they made a General push at a\nthing in which they knew if the other High Men joyn'd, they must\nthrow all into Confusion, bring a Foreign Enemy on their Backs,\nunravel all the Thread of the War, fight all their Victories back\nagain, and involve the whole Nation in Blood and Confusion.\nThey knew well enough that most of the High Men would hesitate at\nthis, they knew if they did not the Grandees and Patriarchs would\nreject it, and so they plaid the surest Game to blast and overthrow\nthis Law, that could possibly be plaid.\nIf any Man, in the whole World in the Moon, will pretend this was not\na Plot, a Crolian Design, a meer Conspiracy to destroy the Law, let\nhim tell me for what other end could these Men offer such extreams as\nthey needs must know would meet with immediate opposition, things\nthat they knew all the Honest Men, all the Grandees, all the\nPatriarchs, and almost all the Feathers would oppose.\nFrom hence all the Men of any fore-sight brought it to this pass, as\nis before Noted, that either these One Hundred and Thirty Four were\nFools or Mad-Men, or that it was a Phanatick Crolian Plot and\nConspiracy to Ruin the makeing this Law, which the rest of the\nSolunarian Church Men were very forward to carry on.\nI heard indeed some Men Argue that this could not be, the breach was\ntoo wide between the Crolians and these Gentlemen ever to come to\nsuch an Agreement; but the Wiser Heads who argu'd the other way,\nalways brought them, as is noted above, to this pinch of Argument;\nthat either it must be so, be a Fanatick Crolian Plot, or else the\nMen of Fury were all Fools, Madmen, and fitter for an Hospital, than\na State-House, or a Pulpit.\nIt must be allow'd, these Crolians were Cunning People, thus to\nwheedle in these High Flying Solunarians to break the Neck of their\ndear Project.\nBut upon the whole, for ought I cou'd see, whether it went one way or\nt'other, all the Nation esteem'd the other People Fools ------ Fools\nof the most extraordinary Size in all the Moon, for either way they\npull'd down what they had been many Years a Building.\nI cannot say that this was in kindness to the Crolians, but in meer\nMalice to the Low Solunarian Party, who had the Government in their\nHands, for Malice always carries Men on to monstrous Extremes.\nSome indeed have thought it hard to call this a Plot, and a\nConfederacy with the Crolians.------ But I cannot but think it the\nkindest thing that can be said of them, and that 'tis impossible\nthose People who push'd at some imaginary Things in that Law could\nbut be in a Plot as aforesaid, or be perfectly Lunatick, down right\nMad-Men, or Traytors to their Country, and let them choose which\nCharacter they like.\nI cannot in Charity but spare them their Honesty, and their Senses,\nand attribute it all to their Policy.\nWhen I had understood all things at large, and found the exceeding\ndepth of the Design; I must confess the Discovery of these things was\nvery diverting, and the more so, when I made the proper Reflections\nupon the Analogy there seem'd to be between these Solunarian High\nChurch-Men in the Moon, and ours here in England; our High Church-Men\nare no more to compare to these, than the Hundred and Thirty Four,\nare to the Consolidators.\nOurs can Plot now and then a little among themselves, but then 'tis\nall Gross and plain Sailing, down right taking Arms, calling in\nForeign Forces, Assassinations and the like; but these are nothing to\nthe more Exquisite Heads in the Moon. For they have the subtillest\nWays with them, that ever were heard of. They can make War with a\nPrince, on purpose to bring him to the Crown; fit out vast Navies\nagainst him, that he may have the more leisure to take their Merchant\nMen; make Descents upon him, on purpose to come Home and do nothing;\nif they have a mind to a Sea Fight, they carefully send out Admirals\nthat care not to come within half a Mile of the Enemy, that coming\noff safe they may have the boasting Part of the Victory, and the\nbeaten Part both together.\n'Twould be endless to call over the Roll of their sublime Politicks.\nThey damn Moderation in order to Peace and Union, set the House on\nFire to save it from Desolation, Plunder to avoid Persecution, and\nconsolidate Things in order to their more immediate Dissolution.\nHad our High Church-Men been Masters of these excellent Arts, they\nhad long ago brought their Designs to pass.\nThe exquisite Plot of these High Solunarians answer'd the Crolians\nEnd, for it broke all their Enemies Measures, the Law vanish'd, the\nGrandees could hardly be perswaded to read it, and when it was\npropos'd to be read again, they hist at it, and threw it by with\nContempt.\nNor was this all; for it not only lost them their Design as to this\nLaw, but it also absolutely broke the Party, and just as it was with\nAdam and Eve, as soon as they Sinn'd they Quarrell'd, and fell out\nwith one another; so, as soon as things came to this height, the\nParty fell out one among another, and even the High Men themselves\nwere divided, some were for Consolidating, and some not for\nConsolidating, some were for Tacking, and some not for Tacking, as\nthey were, or were not let into the Secret.\nIf this Confusion of Languages, or Interest, lost them the real\nDesign, it cannot be a wonder; have we not always seen it in our\nWorld, that dividing an Interest, weakens and exposes it? Has not a\ngreat many both good and bad Designs been render'd Abortive in this\nour Lower World, for want of the Harmony of Parties, and the\nUnanimity of those concern'd in the Design?\nHow had the knot of Rebellion been dissolv'd in England, if it had\nnot been untied by the very Hands of those that knit it? All the\ncontrary Force had been entirely broken and subdu'd, and the\nRestoration of Monarchy had never happen'd in England, if Union and\nAgreement had been found among the managers of that Age.\nThe Enemies of the present Establishment have shown sufficiently that\nthey perfectly understand the shortest way to our infallible\nDestruction, when they bend their principle Force at dividing us into\nParties, and keeping those parties at the utmost variance.\nBut this is not all, the Author of this cannot but observe here that\nas England is unhappily divided among Parties, so it has this one\nFelicity even to be found in the very matter of her Misfortunes, that\nthose Parties are all again subdivided among themselves.\nHow easily might the Church have crusht and subdu'd the Dissenters if\nthey had been all as mad as one Party, if they had not been some High\nand some Low Church-men. And what Mischief might not that one Party\nha' done in this Nation, had not they been divided again into Jurant\nJacobites and Non-Jurant, into Consolidators and Non-Consolidators?\nFrom whence 'tis plain to me, that just as it is in the Moon these\nConsolidating Church-men are meer Confederates with the Whigs; and it\nmust be so, unless we should suppose them meer mad Men that don't\nknow what they are a doing, and who are the Drudges of their Enemies,\nand kno' nothing of the Matter.\nAnd from this Lunar Observation it presently occur'd to my\nUnderstanding, that my Masters the Dissenters may come in for a share\namong the Moon-blind Men of this Generation, since had they done for\ntheir own Interest what the Laws fairly admits to be done, had they\nbeen united among themselves, had they form'd themselves into a\nPolitick Body to have acted in a publick, united Capacity by general\nConcert, and as Persons that had but one Interest and understood it,\nthey had never been so often Insulted by every rising Party, they had\nnever had so many Machines and Intrigues to ruin and suppress them,\nthey had never been so often Tackt and Consolidated to Oppression and\nPersecution, and yet never have rebell'd or broke the Peace, incurr'd\nthe Displeasure of their Princes, or have been upbraided with Plots,\nInsurrections and Antimonarchical Principles; when they had made\nTreaties and Capitulations with the Church for Temper and Toleration,\nthe Articles would have been kept, and these would have demanded\nJustice with an Authority that would upon all Occasions be respected.\nWere they united in Civil Polity in Trade and Interest, would they\nBuy and Sell with one another, abstract their Stocks, erect Banks and\nCompanies in Trade of their own, lend their Cash to the Government in\na Body, and as a Body.\nIf I were to tell them what Advantages the Crolians in the Moon make\nof this sort of management, how the Government finds it their\nInterest to treat them civilly, and use them like Subjects of\nConsideration; how upon all Occasions some of the Grandees and\nNobility appear as Protectors of the Crolians, and treat with their\nPrinces in their Names, present their Petitions, and make Demands\nfrom the Prince of such Loans and Sums of Mony as the publick\nOccasions require; and what abundance of Advantages are reapt from\nsuch a Union, both to their own Body as a Party, and to the\nGovernment also they would be convinc'd; wherefore I cannot but very\nearnestly desire of the Dissenters and Whigs in my own Country that\nthey would take a Journy in my Consolidator up to the Moon, they\nwould certainly see there what vast Advantages they lose for want of\na Spirit of Union, and a concert of Measures among themselves.\nThe Crolians in the Moon are Men of large Souls, and Generously stand\nby one another on all Occasions; it was never known that they\ndeserted any Body that suffer'd for them, my Old Philosopher\nexcepted, and that was a surprize upon them.\nThe Reason of the Difference is plain, our Dissenters here have not\nthe Advantage of a Cogitator, or thinking Engine, as they have in the\nMoon.----- We have the Elevator here and are lifted up pretty much,\nbut in the Moon they always go into the Thinking Engine upon every\nEmergency, and in this they out-do us of this World on every Occasion.\nIn general therefore I must note that the wisest Men I found in the\nMoon, when they understood the Notes I had made as above, of the\nsub-divisions of our Parties, told me that it was the greatest\nHappiness that could ha' been obtained to our Country, for that if\nour Parties had not been thus divided, the Nation had been undone.\nThey own'd that had not their Solunarian Party been divided among\nthemselves, the Crolians had been undone, and all the Moon had been\ninvolv'd in Persecution, and been very probably subjected to the\nGallunarian Monarch.\nThus the fatal Errors of Men have their advantages, the seperate ends\nthey serve are not foreseen by their Authors and they do good against\nthe very Design of the People, and the nature of the Evil it self.\nAnd now that I may encourage our People to that Peace and good\nUnderstanding among themselves, which can alone produce their Safety\nand Deliverance; I shall give a brief Account how the Crolians in the\nMoon came to open their Eyes to their own Interest, how they came to\nUnite; and how the Fruits of that Union secur'd them from ever being\ninsulted again by the Solunarian Party, who in time gave over the\nvain and fruitless Attempt, and so a universal Lunar Calm has spread\nthe whole Moon ever since.\nIf our People will not listen to their own Advantages, nor do their\nown Business, let them take the consequences to themselves, they\ncannot blame the Man in the Moon.\nTo endeavour to bring this to pass, as these Memoirs have run thro'\nthe general History of the Feuds and unhappy Breaches between the\nSolunarian Church and the Crolian Dissenters in the World of the\nMoon, it would seem an imperfect and abrupt Relation, if I should not\ntell you how, and by what Method, tho' long hid from their Eyes, the\nCrolians came to understand their own Interest and know their own\nStrength.\n'Tis true, it seem'd a Wonder to me when I consider'd the Excellence\nand Variety of those perspective Glasses I have mentioned, the\nclearness of the Air, and consequently of the Head, in this Lunar\nWorld. I say it was very strange the Crolians should ha' been Moon\nBlind so long as they were, that they could not see it was always in\ntheir Power if they had but pursued their own Interest, and made use\nof those, legal Opportunities which lay before them, to put\nthemselves in a Posture, as that the Government it self should think\nthem a Body too big to be insulted, and find it their Interest to\nkeep Measures with them.\nIt was indeed a long time before they open'd their Eyes to these\nadvantages, but bore the Insults of the hair-brain'd Party, with a\nweakness and negligence that was as unjustifiable in them, as\nunaccountable to all the Nations of the Moon.\nBut at last, as all violent Extremes rouze their contrary\nExtremeties, the folly and extravagance of the High Solunarians drove\nthe Crolians into their Senses, and rouz'd them to their own\nInterest, the occasion was among a great many others as follows.\nThe eager Solunarian could not on all occasions forbear to show their\ndeep Regret at the Dissenting Crolians enjoying the Tolleration of\ntheir Religion, by a Law ---.\nAnd when all their legal Attempts to lessen that Liberty had prov'd\nAbortive, her Solunarian Majesty on all Occasions repeating her\nassurances of the continuance of her Protection, and particularly the\nmaintaining this Tolleration Inviolable. They proceeded then to show\nthe remains of their Mallice, in little Insults, mean and illegal\nMethods, and continual private Disturbances upon particular Persons,\nin which, however the Crolians having recourse to the Law, always\nfound Justice on their side, and had redress with Advantage, of which\nthe following Instance is more than ordinarily Remarkable.\nThere had been a Law made by the Men of the Feather, that all the\nmeaner Idle sort of People, who had no settel'd way of living should\ngo to the Wars, and the Lazognians, a sort of Magistrates there, in\nthe nature of our Justices of the Peace, were to send them away by\nForce.\nNow it happen'd in a certain Solunarian Island, that for want of a\nbetter, one of their High Priests was put into the Civil\nAdministration, and made a Lazognian.----- In the Neighbourhood of\nthis Man's Jurisdiction, one of their own Solunarian Priests had\nturn'd Crolian, and whether he had a better Tallent at performance,\nor rather was more diligent in his Office is not material, but he set\nup a kind of a Crolian Temple in an old Barn, or some such Mechanick\nBuilding, and all the People flock'd after him.\nThis so provok'd his Neighbours of the black Girdle, an Order of\nPriests, of which he had been one, that they resolv'd to suppress him\nlet it cost what it would.\nThey run strange lengths to bring this to pass.\nThey forg'd strange Stories of him, defam'd him, run him into Jayl\nupon frivolous and groundless Occasions, represented him as a Monster\nof a Man, told their Story so plain, and made it so specious, that\neven the Crolians themselves to their Shame, believ'd it, and took up\nPrejudices against the Poor Man, which had like to ha' been his Ruin.\nThey proscrib'd him in Print for Crimes they could never prove, they\nbranded him with Forgery, Adultery, Drunkenness, Swearing, breaking\nJayl, and abundance of Crimes; but when Matters were examin'd and\nthings came to the Test, they could never prove the least thing upon\nhim.----- In this manner however they continually worryed the poor\nMan, till they ruin'd his Family and reduc'd him to Beggary; and tho'\nhe came out of the Prison they cast him into by the meer force of\nInnocence, yet they never left persuing him with all sorts of\nviolence.------ At last they made use of their Brother of the Girdle\nwho was in Commission as above, and this Man being High Priest and\nLazonian too, by the first was a Party, and by the last had a Power\nto act the Tragedy they had plotted against the poor Man.\nIn short, they seiz'd him without any Crime alledg'd, took violently\nfrom him his Licence, as a Crolian Priest, by which the Law justify'd\nwhat he had done, pretending it was forg'd, and after very ill\nTreating him, condemn'd him to the Wars, delivers him up for a\nSouldier, and accordingly carry'd him away.\nBut it happen'd, to their great Mortification, that this Man found\nmore Mercy from the Men of the Sword, than from those of the Word,\nand so found means to get out of their Hands, and afterwards to\nundeceive all the Moon, both as to his own Character, and as to what\nhe had Suffer'd.\nFor some of the Crolians, who began to be made sensible of the Injury\ndone the poor Man, advis'd him to have recourse to the Law, and to\nbring his Adversaries before the Criminal Bar.\nBut as soon as this was done, good God! what a Scene of Villainy was\nhere opened: The poor Man brought up such a Cloud of Witnesses to\nconfront every Article of their Charge, and to vindicate his own\nCharacter, that when the very Judges heard it, tho' they were all\nSolunarians themselves, they held up their Hands, and declar'd in\nopen Court it was the deepest Track of Villany that ever came before\nthem, and that the Actors ought to be made Examples to all the Moon.\nThe Persons concern'd, us'd all possible Arts to avoid, or at least\nto delay the Shame, and adjourn the Punishment, thinking still to\nweary the poor Man out.------ But now his Brethren the Crolians began\nto see themselves wounded thro' his Sides, and above all, finding his\nInnocence clear'd up beyond all manner of dispute, they espous'd his\nCause, and assisted him to prosecute his Enemies, which he did, till\nhe brought them all to Justice, expos'd them to the last Degree,\nobtain'd the reparation of all his Losses, and a publick Decree of\nthe Judges of his Justification and future Repose.\nIndeed when I saw the Proceedings against this poor Man run to a\nheighth so extravagant and monstrous, when I found Malice, Forgery,\nSubornation, Perjury, and a thousand unjustifiable Things which their\nown Sense, if they had any, might ha' been their Protection against,\nand which any Child in the Moon might ha' told them must one time or\nother come upon the Stage and expose them; I began to think these\nPeople were all in the Crolian Plot too.\nFor really such Proceedings as these were the greatest pieces of\nService to the Crolians as could possibly be done; for as it\ngenerally proves in other Places as well as in the Moon, that\nMischief unjustly contriv'd falls upon the Head of the Authors, and\nredounds to their treble Dishonour, so it was here; the barbarity and\ninhumane Treatment of this Man, made the sober and honest Part even\nof the Solanarians themselves blush for their Brethren, and own that\nthe Punishment awarded on them was just.\nThus the Crolians got ground by the Folly and Madness of their\nEnemies, and the very Engines and Plots laid to injure them, serv'd\nto bring their Enemies on the Stage, and expose both them and their\nCause.\nBut this was not all, by these incessant Attacks on them as a Party,\nthey began to come to their Senses out of a 50 Year slumber, they\nfound the Law on their side, and the Government Moderate and Just;\nthey found they might oppose Violence with Law, and that when they\ndid fly to the Refuge of Justice, they always had the better of their\nEnemy; flusht with this Success, it put them upon considering what\nFools they had been all along to bear the Insolence of a few\nhot-headed Men, who contrary to the true Intent and Meaning of the\nQueen, or of the Government, had resolv'd their Destruction.\nIt put them upon revolving the State of their own Case, and comparing\nit with their Enemies; upon Examining on what foot they stood, and\ntho' Establish'd upon a firm Law, yet a violent Party pushing at the\noverthrow of that Establishment, and dissolving the legal Right they\nhad to their Liberty and Religion; it put them upon duly weighing the\nnearness of their approaching Ruin and Destruction, and finding\nthings run so hard against them, reflecting upon the Extremity of\ntheir Affairs, and how if they had not drawn in the High\nChurch-Champions to damn the Projects of their own Party, by running\nat such desperate Extremes as all Men of any Temper must of course\nabhor, they had been undone; truly now they began to consider, and to\nconsult with one another what was to be done.\nAbundance of Projects were laid before them, some too Dangerous, some\ntoo Foolish to be put in practice; at last they resolv'd to consult\nwith my Philosopher.\nHe had been but scurvily treated by them in his Troubles, and so\nUniversally abandon'd by the Crolians, that even the Solunarians\nthemselves insulted them on that Head, and laugh'd at them for\nexpecting any Body should venture for them again.----- But he\nforgetting their unkindness, ask'd them what it was they desir'd of\nhim?\nThey told him, they had heard that he had reported he could put the\nCrolians in a way to secure themselves from any possibility of being\ninsulted again by the Solunarians, and yet not disturb the publick\nTranquility, nor break the Laws; and they desir'd him, if he knew\nsuch a Secret, he would communicate it to them, and they would be\nsure to remember to forget him for it as long as he liv'd.\nHe frankly told them he had said so, and it was true, he could put\nthem in a way to do all this if they would follow his Directions.\nWhat's that, says one of the most earnest Enquirers? ----- 'Tis\nincluded in one Word, says he, UNITE.\nThis most significant Word, deeply and solidly reflected upon, put\nthem upon strange and various Conjectures, and many long Debates they\nhad with themselves about it; at last they came again to him, and\nask'd him what he mean't by it?\nHe told them he knew they were Strangers to the meaning of the thing,\nand therefore if they would meet him the next Day he would come\nprepar'd to explain himself; accordingly they meet, when instead of a\nlong Speech they expected from him what sort of Union he mean't, and\nwith who, he brings them a Thinking Press, or Cogitator, and setting\nit down, goes away without speaking one Word.\nThis Hyerogliphical Admonition was too plain not to let them all into\nhis meaning; but still as they are an obstinate People, and not a\nlittle valuing themselves upon their own Knowledge and Penetration,\nthey slighted the Engine and fell to off-hand-Surmises, Guesses and\nSupposes.\n1. Some concluded he mean't Unite with the Solunarian Church, and\nthey reflected upon his Understanding, that not being the Question in\nHand, and something remote from their Intention, or the High\nSolunarians Desire.\n2. Some mean't Unite to the moderate Party of the Solunarians, and\nthis they said they had done already.\nAt last some being very Cunning, found it out, that it must be his\nmeaning Unite one among another; and even there again they\nmisunderstood him too; and some imagin'd he mean't down right\nRebellion, Uniting Power, and Mobbing the whole Moon, but he soon\nconvinc'd them of that too.\nAt last they took the Hint, that his Advice directed them to Unite\ntheir subdivided Parties into one general Interest, and to act in\nConcert upon one bottom, to lay aside the Selfish, Narrow, Suspicious\nSpirit; three Qualifications the Crolians were but too justly charg'd\nwith, and begin to act with Courage, Unanimity and Largeness of Soul,\nto open their Eyes to their own Interest, maintain a regular and\nconstant Correspondence with one another in all parts of the Kingdom,\nand to bring their civil Interest into a Form.\nThe Author of this Advice having thus brought them to understand, and\napprove his Proposal, they demanded his assistance for making the\nEssay, and 'tis a most wonderful thing to consider what a strange\neffect the alteration of their Measures had upon the whole Solunarian\nNation.\nAs soon as ever they had settled the Methods they resolv'd to act in,\nthey form'd a general Council of the Heads of their Party, to be\nalways sitting, to reconcile Differences, to unite Parties, to\nsuppress Feuds in their beginning.\nThey appointed 3 general Meetings in 3 of the most remote Parts of\nthe Kingdom, to be half yearly, and one universal Meeting of Persons\ndeputed to concert matters among them in General.\nBy that time these Meetings had sat but once, and the Conduct of the\nCouncil of 12 began to appear, 'twas a wonder to see the prodigious\nalteration it made all over the Country.\nImmediately a Crolian would never buy any thing but of a Crolian;\nwould hire no Servants, employ neither Porter nor Carman, but what\nwere Crolians.\nThe Crolians in the Country that wrought and manag'd the\nManufactures, would employ no body but Crolian Spinners, Crolian\nWeavers, and the like.\nIn their capital City the Merchandizing Crolians would freight no\nShips but of which the Owners and Commanders were Crolians.\nThey call'd all their Cash out of the Solunarian Bank; and as the Act\nof the Cortez confirming the Bank then in being seem'd to be their\nSupport, they made it plain that Cash and Credit will make a Bank\nwithout a publick Settlement of Law; and without these all the Laws\nin the Moon will never be able to support it.\nThey brought all their running Cash into one Bank, and settled a\nsub-Cash depending upon the Grand-Bank in every Province of the\nKingdom; in which, by a strict Correspondence and crediting their\nBills, they might be able to settle a Paper Credit over the whole\nNation.\nThey went on to settle themselves in all sorts of Trade in open\nCompanies, and sold off their Interests in the publick Stocks then in\nTrade.\nIf the Government wanted a Million of Mony upon any Emergency, they\nwere ready to lend it as a Body, not by different Sums and private\nHands blended together with their Enemies, but as will appear at\nlarge presently, it was only Crolian Mony, and pass'd as such.\nNor were the Consequences of this New Model less considerable than\nthe Proposer expected, for the Crolians being generally of the\nTrading Manufacturing part of the World, and very Rich; the influence\nthis method had upon the common People, upon Trade, and upon the\nPublick was very considerable every way.\n1. All the Solunarian Trades-Men and Shop-keepers were at their Wits\nend, they sat in their Shops and had little or nothing to do, while\nthe Shops of the Crolians were full of Customers, and their People\nover Head and Ears in Business; this turn'd many of the Solunarian\nTrades-Men quite off of the hooks, and they began to break and decay\nstrangely, till at last a great many of them to prevent their utter\nRuin, turn'd Crolians on purpose to get a Trade; and what forwarded\nthat part of it was, that when a Solunarian, who had little or no\nTrade before, came but over to the Crolians, immediately every Body\ncome to Trade with him, and his Shop would be full of Customers, so\nthat this presently encreas'd the number of the Crolians.\n2. The poor People in the Countries, Carders, Spinners, Weavers,\nKnitters, and all sorts of Manufacturers, run in Crowds to the\nCrolian Temples for fear of being starv'd, for the Crolians were two\nthirds of the Masters or Employers in the Manufactures all over the\nCountry, and the Poor would ha' been starv'd and undone if they had\ncast them out of Work. Thus infenfibly the Crolians encreas'd their\nnumber.\n3. The Crolians being Men of vast Cash, they no sooner withdrew their\nMony from the General Bank but the Bank languisht, Credit sunk, and\nin a short time they had little to do, but dissolv'd of Course.\nOne thing remain'd which People expected would ha' put a Check to\nthis Undertaking, and that was a way of Trading in Classes, or\nSocieties, much like our East-India Companies in England; and these\ndepending upon publick Privileges granted by the Queen of the\nCountry, or her Predecessors, no Body could Trade to those Parts but\nthe Persons who had those priviledges: The cunning Crolians, who had\ngreat Stocks in those Trades, and foresaw they could not Trade by\nthemselves without the publick Grant or Charter, contriv'd a way to\nget almost all that Capital Trade into their Hands as follows.\nThey concerted Matters, and all at once fell to selling off their\nStock, giving out daily Reports that they would be no longer\nconcern'd, that it was a losing Trade, that the Fund at bottom was\ngood for nothing, and that of two Societies the Old one had not 20\nper Cent. to divide, all their Debts being paid; that the New Society\nhad Traded several Years, but if they were dissolv'd could not say\nthat they had got any thing; and that this must be a Cheat at last,\nand so they resolv'd to sell.\nBy this Artifice, they daily offering to Sale, and yet in all their\nDiscourse discouraging the thing they were to sell no Body could be\nfound to buy.\nThe offering a thing to Sale and no Bidders, is a certain\nnever-failing prospect of a lowring the Price; from this Method\ntherefore the value of all the Banks, Companies, Societies and Stocks\nin the Country fell to be little or nothing worth; and that was to be\nbought for 40 or 45 Lunarians that was formerly sold at 150, and so\nin proportion of all the rest.\nAll this while the Crolians employ'd their Emissaries to buy up\nprivately all the Interest or Shares in these Things that any of the\nSolunarian Party would sell.\nThis Plot took readily, for these Gentlemen exposing the weakness of\nthese Societies, and running down the value of their Stocks, and at\nthe same time warily buying at the lowest Prices, not only in time\ngot Possession of the whole Trade, with their Grants, Privileges and\nStocks, but got into them at a prodigiously low and despicable Price.\nThey had no sooner thus worm'd them out of the Trade, and got the\ngreatest part of the Effects in their own Hands, and consequently the\nwhole Management, but they run up the Price of the Funds again as\nhigh as ever, and laught at the folly of those that sold out.\nNor could the other People make any Reflections upon the honesty of\nthe practice, for it was no Original, but had its birth among the\nSolunarians themselves, of whom 3 or 4 had frequently made a Trade of\nraising and lowring the Funds of the Societies by all the Clandestine\nContrivances in the World, and had ruin'd abundance of Families to\nraise their own Fortunes and Estates.\nOne of the greatest Merchants in the Moon rais'd himself by this\nMethod to such a heighth of Wealth, that he left all his Children\nmarried to Grandees, Dukes, and Great Folks; and from a Mechanick\nOriginal, they are now rankt among the Lunarian Nobility, while\nmultitudes of ruin'd Families helpt to build his Fortune, by sinking\nunder the Knavery of his Contrivance.\nHis Brother in the same Iniquity, being at this time a Man of the\nFeather, has carry'd on the same intrieguing Trade with all the Face\nand Front imaginable; it has been nothing with him to persuade his\nmost intimate Friends to Sell, or Buy, just as he had occasion for\nhis own Interest to have it rise, or fall, and so to make his own\nMarket of their Misfortune. Thus he has twice rais'd his Fortunes,\nfor the House of Feathers demolisht him once, and yet he has by the\nsame clandestine Management work'd himself up again.\nThis civil way of Robbing Houses, for I can esteem it no better, was\ncarry'd on by a middle sort of People, call'd in the Moon\nBLOUTEGONDEGOURS, which which signifies Men with two Tongues, or in\nEnglish, Stock-Jobbing Brokers.\nThese had formerly such an unlimited Power and were so numerous, that\nindeed they govern'd the whole Trade of the Country; no Man knew when\nhe Bought or Sold, for tho' they pretended to Buy and Sell, and\nManage for other Men whose Stocks they had very much at Command, yet\nnothing was more frequent than when they bought a thing cheap, to buy\nit for themselves; if dear, for their Employer; if they were to Sell,\nif the Price rise, it was Sold, if it Fell, it was Unsold; and by\nthis Art no body got any Mony but themselves, that at last, excepting\nthe two capital Men we spoke of before, these govern'd the Prizes of\nall things, and nothing could be Bought or Sold to Advantage but\nthro' their hands; and as the Profit was prodigious, their number\nencreas'd accordingly, so that Business seem'd engross'd by these\nMen, and they govern'd the main Articles of Trade.\nThis Success, and the Imprudence of their Conduct, brought great\nComplaints against them to the Government, and a Law was made to\nrestrain them, both in Practice and Number.\nThis Law has in some measure had its Effect, the number is not only\nlessen'd, but by chance some honester Men than usual are got in among\nthem, but they are so very, very, very Few, hardly enough to save a\nMan's Credit that shall vouch for them.\nNay, some People that pretend to understand their Business better\nthan I do, having been of their Number, have affirm'd, it is\nimpossible to be honest in the employment.\nI confess when I began to search into the Conduct of these Men, at\nleast of some of them, I found there were abundance of black Stories\nto be told of them, a great deal known, and a great deal more\nunknown; for they were from the beginning continually Encroaching\ninto all sorts of People and Societies, and in Conjunction with some\nthat were not qualify'd by Law, but meerly Voluntarily, call'd in the\nMoon by a hard long Word, in English signifying PROJECTORS these\nerected Stocks in Shadows, Societies in Nubibus, and Bought and Sold\nmeer Vapour, Wind, Emptiness and Bluster for Mony, till they drew\nPeople in to lay out their Cash, and then laught at them.\nThus they erected Paper Societies, Linnen Societies, Sulphur\nSocieties, Copper Societies, Glass Societies, Sham Banks, and a\nthousand mock Whimsies to hook unwary People in; at last sold\nthemselves out, left the Bubble to float a little in the Air, and\nthen vanish of it self.\nThe other sort of People go on after all this; and tho' these\nProjectors began to be out of Fashion, they always found one thing or\nother to amuse and deceive the Ignorant, and went Jobbing on into all\nmanner of things, Publick as well as Private, whether the Revenue,\nthe Publick Funds, Loans, Annuities, Bear-Skins, or any thing.\nNay they were once grown to that extravagant highth, that they began\nto Stock-Job the very Feathers of the Consolidator, and in time the\nKing's employing those People might have had what Feathers they had\noccasion for, without concerning the Proprietors of the Lands much\nabout them.\n'Tis true this began to be notorious, and receiv'd some check in a\nformer meeting of the Feathers; but even now, when I came away, the\nthree Years expiring, and by Course a new Consolidator being to be\nbuilt, they were as busie as ever. Bidding, Offering, Procuring,\nBuying, Selling, and Jobbing of Feathers to who bid most; and\nnotwithstanding several late wholesome and strict Laws against all\nmanner of Collusion, Bribery and clandestine Methods, in the\nCountries procuring these Feathers; never was the Moon in such an\nuproar about picking and culling the Feathers, such Bribery, such\nDrunkenness, such Caballing, especially among the High Solunarian\nClergy and the Lazognians, such Feasting, Fighting and Distraction,\nas the like has never been known.\nAnd that which is very Remarkable, all this not only before the Old\nConsolidator was broke up, but even while it was actually whole and\nin use.\nHad this hurry been to send up good Feathers, there had been the less\nto say, but that which made it very strange to me was, that where the\nvery worst of all the Feathers were to be found, there was the most\nof this wicked Work; and tho' it was bad enough every where, yet the\ngreatest bustle and contrivance was in order to send up the worst\nFeathers they could get.\nAnd indeed some Places such Sorry, Scoundrel, Empty, Husky, Wither'd,\nDecay'd Feathers were offer'd to the Proprietors, that I have\nsometimes wonder'd any one could have the Impudence to send up such\nridiculous Feathers to make a Consolidator, which, as is before\nobserv'd, is an Engine of such Beauty, Usefulness and Necessity.\nAnd still in all my Observation, this Note came in my way, there was\nalways the most bustle and disturbance about the worst Feathers.\nIt was really a melancholly Thing to consider, and had this Lunar\nWorld been my Native Country, I should ha' been full of concern to\nsee that one thing, on which the welfare of the whole Nation so much\ndepended, put in so ill a Method, and gotten into the management of\nsuch Men, who for Mony would certainly ha' set up such Feathers, that\nwherever the Consolidator should be form'd, it would certainly\nover-set the first Voyage; and if the whole Nation should happen to\nbe Embarkt in it, on the dangerous Voyage to the Moon, the fall would\ncertainly give them such a Shock, as would put them all into\nConfusion, and open the Door to the Gallunarian, or any Foreign Enemy\nto destroy them.\nIt was really strange that this should be the Case, after so many\nLaws, and so lately made, against it; but in this, those People are\ntoo like our People in England, who have the best Laws the worst\nexecuted of any Nation under Heaven.\nFor in the Moon this hurry about choosing of Feathers was grown to\nthe greatest heighth imaginable, as if it encreast by the very Laws\nthat were made to suppress it; for now at a certain publick Place\nwhere the Bloutegondegours us'd to meet every Day, any Body that had\nbut Mony enough might buy a Feather at a reasonable Rate, and never\ngo down into the Country to fetch it; nay, the Trade grew so hot,\nthat of a sudden as if no other Business was in Hand, all people were\nupon it, and the whole Market was chang'd from Selling of Bear-Skins,\nto Buying of Feathers.\nSome gave this for a Reason why all the Stocks of the Societies fell\nso fast, but there were other Reasons to be given for that, such as\nClubs, Cabals, Stock-Jobbers, Knights, Merchants and Thie---s. I mean\na private Sort, not such as are frequently Hang'd there, but of a\nworse Sort, by how much they merit that Punishment more, but are out\nof the reach of the Law, can Rob and pick Pockets in the Face of the\nSun, and laugh at the Families they Ruin, bidding Defiance to all\nlegal Resentment.\nTo this height things were come under the growing Evil of this sort\nof People.\nAnd yet in the very Moon where, as I have noted, the People are so\nexceeding clear Sighted, and have such vast helps to their perceptive\nFaculties, such Mists are sometimes cast before the publick\nUnderstanding, that they cannot see the general Interest.\nThis was manifest, in that just as I came away from that Country, the\ngreat Council of their Wise Men, the Men of the Feather, were a going\nto repeal the old Law of Restraining the Number of these People; and\ntho' as it was, there was not Employment for half of them, there\nbeing 100 in all, and not above 5 honest ones; yet when I came away\nthey were going to encrease their Number. I have nothing to say to\nthis here, only that all Wise Men that understand Trade were very\nmuch concern'd at it, and lookt upon it as a most destructive Thing\nto the Publick, and forboding the same mischiefs that Trade suffer'd\nbefore.\nIt was the particular Misfortune to these Lunar People that this\nCountry had a better Stock of Governors in all Articles of their\nWell-fare, than in their Trade; their Law Affairs had good Judges,\ntheir Church good Patriarchs, except, as might be excepted; their\nState good Ministers, their Army good Generals, and their\nConsolidator good Feathers; but in Matters relating to Trade, they\nhad this particular Misfortune, that those Cases always came before\nPeople that did not understand them.\nEven the Judges themselves were often found at a Loss to determine\nCauses of Negoce, such as Protests, Charter-Parties, Avarages,\nBaratry, Demorage of Ships, Right of detaining Vessels on Demorage,\nand the like; nay, the very Laws themselves are fain to be silent and\nyield in many things a Superiority to the Custom of Merchants.\nAnd here I began to Congratulate my Native Country, where the\nPrudence of the Government has provided for these things, by\nEstablishing in a Commission of Trade some of the most experienc'd\nGentlemen in the Nation, to Regulate, Settle, Improve, and revive\nTrade in General, by their unwearyed Labours, and most consummate\nUnderstanding; and this made me pity these Countries, and think it\nwould be an Action worthy of this Nation, and be spoken of for Ages\nto come to their Glory, if in meer Charity they would appoint or\ndepute these Gentlemen to go a Voyage to those Countries of the Moon,\nand bless those Regions with the Schemes of their sublime\nUndertakings, and discoveries in Trade.\nBut when I was expressing my self thus, my Philosopher interrupted\nme, and told me I should see they were already furnisht for that\npurpose, when I came to examine the publick Libraries, of which by it\nself.\nBut I was farther confirm'd in my Observation of the weakness of the\npublick Heads of that Country, as to Trade, when I saw another most\npreposterous Law going forward among them, the Title of which was\nspecious, and contain'd something relating to employing the Poor, but\nthe substance of it absolutely destructive to the very Nature of\ntheir Trade, tending to Transposing, Confounding and Destroying their\nManufactures, and to the Ruin of all their Home-Commerce; never was\nNation so blind to their own Interest as these Lunarian Law Makers,\nand the People who were the Contrivers of this Law were so vainly\nConceited, so fond of the guilded Title, and so positively Dogmatick,\nthat they would not hear the frequent Applications of Persons better\nacquainted with those things than themselves, but pusht it on meerly\nby the strength of their Party, for the Vanity of being Authors of\nsuch a Contrivance.\nBut to return to the new Model of the Crolians. The advice of the\nLunarian Philosopher run now thro' all their Affairs, UNITE was the\nWord thro' all the Nation, in Trade, in Cash, in Stocks, as I noted\nbefore.\nIf a Solunarian Ship was bound to any Out Port, no Crolian would load\nany Goods aboard; if any Ship came to seek Freight abroad, none of\nthe Crolians Correspondents would Ship any thing unless they knew the\nOwners were Crolians; the Crolian Merchants turn'd out all their\nSolunarian Masters, Sailors and Captains from their Ships; and thus,\nas the Solunarians would have them be separated in respect of the\nGovernment, Profits, Honours and Offices, they resolv'd to separate\nin every thing else too, and to stand by themselves.\nAt last, upon some publick Occasion, the publick Treasurers of the\nLand sent to the capital City, to borrow 500000 Lunarians upon very\ngood Security of establisht Funds; truly no Body would lend any Mony,\nor at least they could not raise above a 5th part of that Sum,\nenquiring at the Bank, at their general Societies Cash, and other\nPlaces, all was languid and dull, and no Mony to be had; but being\ninform'd that the Crolians had erected a Bank of their own, they sent\nthither, and were answered readily, that whatever Sum the Government\nwanted, was at their Service, only it was to be lent not by\nparticular Persons, but such a Grandee being one of the prime\nNobility, and who the Crolians now call'd their Protector, was to be\nTreated with about it.\nThe Government saw no harm in all this; here was no Law broken, here\nwas nothing but Oppression answered with Policy, and Mischief fenc'd\nagainst with Reason.\nThe Government therefore took no Notice of it, nor made any Scruple\nwhen they wanted any Mony to Treat with this Nobleman, and borrow any\nSum of the Crolians, as Crolians; on the contrary in the Name of the\nCrolians; their Head or Protector presented their Addresses and\nPetitions, procur'd Favours on one Hand, and Assistance on the other;\nand thus by degrees and insensibly the Crolians became a Politick\nBody, settled and establish'd by Orders and Rules among themselves;\nand while a Spirit of Unanimity thus run thro' all their Proceedings,\ntheir Enemies could never hurt them, their Princes always saw it was\ntheir Interest to keep Measures with them, and they were sure to have\nJustice upon any Complaint whatsoever.\nWhen I saw this, it forc'd me to reflect upon Affairs in our own\nCountry; Well, said I, 'tis happy for England that our Dissenters\nhave not this Spirit of Union and Largeness of Heart among them; for\nif they were not a Narrow, mean-Spirited, short-Sighted,\nself-Preserving, friend-Betraying, poor-Neglecting People, they might\nha' been every way as Safe, as Considerable, as Regarded and as\nNumerous as the Crolians in the Moon; but it is not in their Souls to\ndo themselves Good, nor to Espouse, or Stand by those that would do\nit for them; and 'tis well for the Church-Men that it is so, for many\nAttempts have been made to save them, but their own narrowness of\nSoul, and dividedness in Interest has always prevented its being\neffectual, and discourag'd all the Instruments that ever attempted to\nserve them.\n'Tis confest the Case was thus at first among the Crolians, they were\nfull of Divisions among themselves, as I have noted already of the\nSolunarians, and the unhappy Feuds among them, had always not only\nexpos'd them to the Censure, Reproach and Banter of their Solunarian\nEnemies, but it had serv'd to keep them under, prevent their being\nvalued in the Government, and given the other Party vast Advantages\nagainst.\nBut the Solunarians driving thus furiously at their Destruction and\nentire Ruin, open'd their Eyes to the following Measures for their\npreservation: And here again the high Solunarians may see, and\ndoubtless whenever they made use of the Lunar-Glasses they must see\nit, that nothing could ha' driven the Crolians to make use of such\nMethods for their Defence, but the rash Proceedings of their own warm\nMen, in order to suppressing the whole Crolian Interest. And this\nmight inform our Country-men of the Church of England, that it cannot\nbut be their Interest to Treat their Brethren with Moderation and\nTemper, least their Extravagances should one time or other drive the\nother as it were by Force into their Senses, and open their Eyes to\ndo only all those Things which by Law they may do, and which they are\nlaught at by all the World for not doing.\nThis was the very Case in the Moon: The Philosopher, or\npretended-such as before, had often publish'd, that it was their\nInterest to UNITE; but their Eyes not being open to the true Causes\nand Necessity of it, their Ears were shut against the Council, till\nOppression and Necessities drove them to it.\nAccordingly they entred into a serious Debate, of the State of their\nown Affairs, and finding the Advice given, very reasonable; they set\nabout it, and the Author gave them a Model, Entitl'd An enquiry into\nwhat the Crolians may lawfully do, to prevent the certain Ruin of\ntheir Interest, and bring their Enemies to Peace.\nI will not pretend to examine the Contents of this sublime Tract; but\nfrom this very Day, we found the Crolians in the Moon, acting quite\non a different Foot from all their former Conduct, putting on a new\nTemper, and a new Face, as you have hear'd.\nAll this while the hot Solunarians cried out Plots, Associations,\nConfederacies, and Rebellions, when indeed here was nothing done but\nwhat the Laws justify'd, what Reason directed, and what had the\nCrolians but made use of the Cogitator, they would ha' done 40 Year\nbefore.\nThe Truth is, the other People had no Remedy, but to cry Murther, and\nmake a Noise; for the Crolians went on with their Affairs, and\nEstablisht themselves so, that when I came away, they were become a\nmost Solid, and well United Body, made a considerable Figure in the\nNation, and yet the Government was easy; for the Solunarians found\nwhen they had attain'd the utmost end of their Wishes, her Solunarian\nMajesty was as safe as before, and the Crolians Property being\nsecur'd, they were as Loyal Subjects as the Solunarians, as\nconsistent with Monarchy, as useful to it, and as pleas'd with it.\nI cannot but Remark here, that this Union of the Crolians among\nthemselves had another Consequence, which made it appear it was not\nonly to their own Advantage, but to the general Good of all the\nNatien.\nFor, by little, and little, the Feuds of the Parties cool'd, and the\nSolunarians began to be better reconcil'd to them; the Government was\neasy and safe, and the private Quarrels, as I have been told since,\nbegin to be quite forgot.\nWhat Blindness, said I to my self, has possest the Dissenters in our\nunhappy Country of England, where by eternal Discords, Feuds,\nDistrusts and Disgusts among themselves, they always fill their\nEnemies with Hopes, that by pushing at them, they may one time or\nother compleat their Ruin; which Expectation has always serv'd as a\nmeans to keep open the Quarrel; whereas had the Dissenters been\nUnited in Interest, Affection and Mannagement among themselves, all\nthis Heat had long ago been over, and the Nation, tho' there had been\ntwo Opinions had retain'd but one Interest, been joyn'd in Affection,\nand Peace at Home been rais'd up to that Degree that all Wise Men\nwish, as it is now among the Inhabitants of the World in the Moon.\nTis true, in all the Observations I made in this Lunar Country, the\nvast deference paid to the Persons of Princes began to lessen, and\nwhatever Respect they had for the Office, they found it necessary\nfrequently to tell the World that on occasion, they could Treat them\nwith less Respect than they pretended to owe them.\nFor about this time, the Divine Right of Kings, and the Inheritances\nof Princes in the Moon, met with a terrible Shock, and that by the\nSolunarian Party themselves; and insomuch that even my Philosopher,\nand he was none of the Jure Divino Men, neither declar'd, against it.\nThey made Crowns perfect Foot-balls, set up what Kings they would,\nand pull'd down such as they did not like, Ratitione Voluntas, right\nor wrong, as they thought best, of which some Examples shall be given\nby and by.\nAfter I had thus enquir'd into the Historical Affairs of this Lunar\nNation, which for its Similitude to my Native Country, I could not\nbut be inquisitive in; I wav'd a great many material Things, which at\nleast I cannot enter upon the Relation of here, and began to enquire\ninto their Affairs abroad.\nI think I took notice in the beginning of my Account of these parts,\nthat I found them engag'd in a tedious and bloody War, with one of\nthe most mighty Monarchs of all the Moon.\nI must therefore hint, that among the multitude of things, which for\nbrevity sake I omit, the Reader may observe these were some.\n1. That this was the same Monarch who harbour'd and entertain'd the\nAbrogratzian Prince, who was fled as before, and who we are to call\nthe King of Gallunaria.\n2. I have omitted the Account of a long and bloody War, which lasted\na great many Years, and which the present Queens Predecessor,\nmannag'd with a great deal of Bravery and Conduct, and finisht very\nmuch to his own Glory, and the Nations Advantage.\n3. I have too much omitted to Note, how Barbarously the High\nSolunarian Church Men treated him for all his Services, upbraided him\nwith the Expence of the War; and tho' he sav'd them all from Ruin and\nAbrogratzianism, yet had not one good Word for him, and indeed 'tis\nwith some difficulty that I pass this over, because it might be\nnecessary to observe, besides what is said before, that Ingratitude\nis a Vice in Nature, and practis'd every where, as well as in\nEngland. So that we need not upbraid the Party among us with their\nill Treatment of the late King, for these People us'd their good King\nevery Jot as bad, till their unkindness perfectly broke his Heart.\nHere also I am oblig'd to omit the Historical Part of the War, and of\nthe Peace that follow'd; only I must observe that this Peace was very\nPrecarious, Short and Unhappy, and in a few Months the War broke out\nagain, with as much Fury as ever.\nIn this War happen'd one of the strangest, unaccountable and most\npreposterous Actions, that ever a People in their National Capacity\ncould be guilty of.\nCertainly if our People in England, who pretend that Kingship is Jure\nDivino, did but know the Story of which I speak, they would be quite\nof another Mind; wherefore I crave leave to relate part of the\nHistory, or Original of this last War, as a necessary Introduction to\nthe proper Observations I shall make upon it.\nThere was a King of a certain Country in the Moon, call'd in their\nLanguage, Ebronia, who was formerly a Confederate with the\nSolunarians. This Prince dying without Issue, the great Monarch we\nspeak of, seiz'd upon all his Dominions as his Right.----- Tho' if I\nremember right, he had formerly Sworn never to lay Claim to it, and\nafter that by a subsequent Treaty had agreed with the Solunarian\nPrince, that another Monarch who claim'd a Right as well as he,\nshould divide it between them.\nThe breach of this Agreement, and seizing this Kingdom, put almost\nall the Lunar World into a Flame, and War hung over the Heads of all\nthe Northern Nations of the Moon, for several Claims were made to the\nSuccession by other Princes, and particularly by a certain Potent\nPrince call'd the Eagle, of an Ancient Family, whose Lunar Name I\ncannot well express, but in English it signifies the Men of the great\nLip; whether it was Originally a sort of a Nick Name, or whether they\nhad any such thing as a great Lip Hereditary to the Family, by which\nthey were distinguisht, is not worth my while to Examine.\n'Tis without question that the successive Right, if their Lunar\nSuccessions, are Govern'd as ours are in this world, devolv'd upon\nthis Man with the Lip and his Families; but the Gallunarian Monarch\nbrought things so to pass, by his extraordinary Conduct, that the\nEbronian King was drawn in by some of his Nobility, who this Prince\nhad Bought and Brib'd to betray their Country to his Interest, and\nparticularly a certain High Priest of that Country, to make an\nAssignment, or deed of Gift of all his Dominions to the Grandson of\nthis Gallunarian Monarch.\nBy Vertue of this Gift, or Legacy, as soon as the King dyed, who was\nthen languishing, and as the other Parry alledg'd, not in a very good\ncapacity to make a Will; the Gallunarian King sent his Grandson to\nseize upon the Crown, and backing him with suitable Forces, took\nPossession of all his strong Fortifications and Frontiers.\nNor was this all, the Man with the Lip indeed talkt big, and\nthreatned War immediately, but the Solunarians were so unsettl'd at\nHome, so unprepar'd for War, having but just dismist their Auxiliar\nTroops, and disbanded their own, and the Prince was so ill serv'd by\nhis Subjects, that both he and a Powerful Neighbour, Nations in the\nsame Interest, were meerly Bullyed by this Gallunarian; and as he\nthreatned immediately to Invade them, which they were then in no\nCondition to prevent, he forc'd them both to submit to his Demand,\ntacitely allow what he had done in breaking the Treaty with him, and\nat last openly acknowledge his new King.\nThis was indeed a most unaccountable Step, but there was a necessity\nto plead, for he was at their very Doors with his Forces; and this\nNeighbouring People, who they call Mogenites, could not resist him\nwithout help from the Solunarians, which they were very backward in,\nnotwithstanding the earnest Sollicitations of their Prince, and\nnotwithstanding they were oblig'd to do it by a solemn Treaty.\nThese delays oblig'd them to this strange Step of acknowledging the\nInvasion of their Enemy, and pulling off the Hat to the New King he\nhad set up.\n'Tis true, the Policy of these Lunar Nations was very Remarkable in\nthis Case, and they out-witted the Gallunarian Monarch in it; for by\nthe owning this Prince, whom they immediately after Declar'd a\nUsurper, and made War against; they stopt the Mouth of the\nGallunarian his Grandfather, took from him all pretence of Invading\nthem, and making him believe they were Sincere, Wheedl'd him to\nrestore several Thousands of their Men who he had taken Prisoners in\nthe Frontier Towns of the Ebronians.\nHad the Gallunarian Prince had but the forecast to ha' seen, that\nthis was but a forc'd pretence to gain Time, and that as soon as they\nhad their Troops clear and Time to raise more, they would certainly\nturn upon him again, he would never ha' been put by with so weak a\nTrifle as the Ceremony of Congratulation; whereas had he immediately\npusht at them with all his Forces, they must ha' been Ruin'd, and he\nhad carry'd his Point without much Interruption.\nBut here he lost his Opportunity, which he never retriev'd; for 'tis\nin the Moon, just as 'tis here, when an Occasion is lost, it is not\neasy to be recover'd, for both the Solunarians and the Mogenites\nquickly threw off the Mask, and declaring this new Prince an Usurper,\nand his Grandfather an Unjust breaker of Treaties, they prepar'd for\nWar against them both.\nAs to the Honesty of this matter, my Philosopher and I differ'd\nextremely, he exclaim'd against the Honour of acknowledging a King,\nwith a design to Depose him, and pretending Peace when War is\ndesign'd; tho' 'tis true, they are too customary in our World; but\nhowever, as to him I insisted upon the lawfulness of it, from the\nuniversal Custom of Nations, who generally do things ten times more\nPreposterous and Inconsistent, when they suit their Occasions. Yet I\nhope no Body will think I am recommending them by this Relation to\nthe Practice of our own Nations, but rather exposing them as\nunaccountable things never to be put in Practice, without quitting\nall pretences to Justice and national Honesty.\nThe Case was this.\nAs upon the Progress of Matters before related, the Solunarians and\nMogenites had made a formal acknowledgment of this new Monarch, the\nGrandson of the Gallunarian King, so as I have hinted already, they\nhad no other design than to Depose him, and pull him down.\nAccordingly, as soon as by the aforesaid Wile they had gain'd Breath,\nand furnisht themselves with Forces, they declar'd War against both\nthe Gallunarian King, and his Grandson, and entred into strict\nConfederacy with the Man of the great Lip, who was the Monarch of the\nEagle, and who by right of Succession, had the true Claim to the\nEbronian Crowns.\nIn these Declarations they alledge that Crowns do not descend by\nGift, nor are Kingdoms given away by Legacy, like a Gold Ring at a\nFuneral, and therefore this young Prince could have no Right, the\nformer deceas'd King having no Right to dispose it by Gift.\nI must allow, that judging by our Reason, and the Practice in our\nCountries here, on this side the Moon; this seem'd plain, and I saw\nno difference in matters of Truth there, or here, but Right and\nLiberty both of Princes and People seems to be the same in that\nWorld, as it is in this, and upon this account I thought the Reasons\nof this War very Just, and that the Claim of Right to the Succession\nof the Ebronian Crown, was undoubtedly in the Man with the Lip, and\nhis Heirs, and so far the War was most Just, and the Design\nreasonable.\nAnd thus far my Lunar Companion agreed with me, and had they gone on\nso, says he, they had my good Wishes, and my Judgment had been\nWitness to my Pretences, that they were in the right.\nBut in the prosecution of this War, says he, they went on to one of\nthe most Impolitick, Ridiculous, Dishonest, and Inconsistent Actions,\nthat ever any Nation in the Moon was guilty of; the Fact was thus.\nHaving agreed among themselves that the Ebronian Crown should not be\npossest by the Gallunarian King's Grandson, they in the next Place\nbegan to consider who should have it.\nThe Man with the Lip had the Title, but he had a great Government of\nhis own, Powerful, Happy and Remote, being as is noted, the Lord of\nthe great Eagle, and he told them he could not pretend to come to\nEbronia to be a King there; his eldest Son truly was not only\ndeclar'd Heir apparent to his Father, but had another Lunarian\nKingdom of his own still more remote than that, and he would not quit\nall this for the Crown of Ebronia, so it was concerted by all the\nConfederated Parties, that the second Son of this Prince, the Man\nwith the Lip, should be declar'd King, and here lay the Injustice of\nall the Case.\nI confess at my first examining this Matter, I did not see far into\nit, nor could I reach the Dishonesty of it, and perhaps the Reader of\nthese Sheets may be in the same Case; but my old Lunarian Friend\nbeing continually exclaiming against the Matter, and blaming his\nCountry-men the Solunarians for the Dishonesty of it, but especially\nthe Mogenites, he began to be something peevish with me that I should\nbe so dull as not to reach it, and askt me if he should screw me into\nthe Thinking-Press for the Clearing up my Understanding.\nAt last he told me he would write his particular Sentiments of this\nwhole Affair in a Letter to me, which he would so order as it should\neffectually open mine Eyes; which indeed it did, and so I believe it\nwill the Eyes of all that read it; to which purpose I have obtain'd\nof the Author to assist me in the Translation of it, he having some\nKnowledge also in our Sublunar Languages.\nThe Sustance of a Letter, wrote to the Author of these Sheets, while\nhe was in the Regions of the Moon.\n'Friend from the Moon,\n'According to my promise, I hereby give you a Scheme of Solunarian\nHonesty, join'd with Mogenite Policy, and my Opinion of the Action of\nmy Country-men and their Confederates, in declaring their new made\nEbronian King.\n'The Mogenites and Solunarians are look'd upon here to be the\nOriginal Contrivers of this ridiculous piece of Pageantry, and tho'\nsome of their Neighbours are suppos'd to have a Hand in it, yet we\nall lay it at the door of their Politicks, and for the Honesty of it\nlet them answer it if they can.\n''Tis observ'd here, that as soon as the King of Gallunaria had\ndeclar'd that he accepted the Will and Disposition of the Crown of\nEbronia, in favour of his Grandson, and that according to the said\nDisposition, he had own'd him for King; and in order to make it\neffectual, had put him into immediate Possession of the Kingdom. The\nMogenites and their Confederates made wonderful Clamours at the\nInjustice of his Proceedings, and particularly on account of his\nbreaking the Treaty then lately entred into with the King of the\nSolunarians and the Mogenites, for the settling the Matter of Right\nand Possession, in case of the Demise of the Ebronian King.\n'However, the King of Gallunaria had no sooner plac'd his Grandson on\nthe Throne, but the Mogenites and other Nations, and to all our\nWonder, the King of Solunaria himself acknowledg'd him, own'd him,\nsent their Ministers, and Compliments of Congratulation, and the\nlike, giving him the Title of King of Ebronia.\n'Tho' this proceeding had something of Surprize in it, and all Men\nexpected to see something more than ordinary Politick in the effect\nof it, yet it did not give half the astonishment to the Lunar World,\nas this unaccountable Monster of Politicks begins to do.\n'We have here two unlucky Fellows, call'd Pasquin and Marforio, these\nhad a long Dialogue about this very Matter, and Pasquin as he always\nlov'd Mischief, told a very unlucky Story to his Comrade, of a high\nMogenite Skipper, as follows.\n'A Mogenite Ship coming from a far Country, the Custom House Officers\nfound some Goods on Board, which were Controband, and for which they\npretended the Ship and Goods were all Confiscated; the Skipper, or\nCaptain in a great Fright, comes up to the Custom-House, and being\ntold he must Swear to something relating to his taking in those\nGoods, reply'd in his Country Jargon, Ya, dat sall Ick doen Myn Heer;\nor in English, Ay, Ay, I'll Swear.----- But finding they did not\nassure him that it would clear his Ship he scruples the Oath again,\nat which they told him it would clear his Ship immediately. Hael,\nwell Myn Heer, says the Mogen Man, vat mot Ick sagen, Ick sall all\nSwear myn Skip to salvare, i.e. I shall Swear any thing to save my\nSkip.\n'We apply this Story thus.\n'If the Mogenites did acknowledge the King of Ebronia, we did believe\nit was done to save the Skip; and when they reproacht the Gallunarian\nKing, with breaking the Treaty of Division, we us'd to say we would\nall break thro' twice as many Engagements for half as much Advantage.\n'This setting up a new King, against a King on the Throne,\nAcknowledg'd and Congratulated by them, is not only look'd on in the\nLunar World, as a thing Ridiculous, but particularly Infamous, that\nthey should first acknowledge a King, and then set up the Title of\nanother. If the Title of the first Ebronian King be good, this must\nbe an Impostor, an Usurper of another Man's Right; if it was not\ngood, why did they acknowledge him, and give him the full Title of\nall the Ebronian Dominions? Caress and Congratulate him, and make a\npublick Action of it to his Ambassador.\n'Will they tell us they were Bully'd, and Frighted into it? that is\nto own they may be hufft into an ill Action; for owing a Man in the\nPosession of what is none of his own, is an ill thing, and he that\nmay be hufft into one ill Action, may by Consequence be hufft into\nanother, and so into any thing.\n'What will they say for doing it? we have heard there has been in the\nWorld you came from, a way found out to own Kings de Facto, but not\nde Jure; if they will fly to that ridiculous Shift, let them tell the\nWorld so, that we may know what they mean, for those foolish things\nare not known here.\n'If they own'd the King of Ebronia voluntarily, and acknowledg'd his\nRight as we thought they had; how then can this young Gentleman have\na Title, unless they have found out a new Division, and so will have\ntwo Kings of Ebronia, make them Partners, and have a Gallunarian King\nof Ebronia, and a Mogenite King of Ebronia, both together?\n'Our Lunar Nations, Princes and States, whatever they may do in your\nWorld, always seek for some Pretences at least to make their Actions\nseem Honest, whither they are so or no; and therefore they generally\npublish Memorials, Manifesto's and Declarations, of their Reasons\nwhy, and on what account they do so, or so; that those who have any\nGrounds to charge them with Unjustice, may be answer'd, and silenc'd;\n'tis for the People in your Country, to fall upon their Neighbours,\nonly because they will do it, and make probability of Conquest, a\nsufficient Reason of Conquest; the Lunarian Nations are seldom so\ndestitute of Modesty, but that they will make a shew of Justice, and\nmake out the Reasons of their Proceedings; and tho' sometimes we find\neven the Reasons given for some Actions are weak enough; yet it is a\nbad Cause indeed, that can neither have a true Reason, nor a\npretended one. The custom of the Moon has oblig'd us to show so much\nrespect to Honesty, that when our Actions have the least colour of\nHonesty, yet we will make Reasons to look like a Defence, whether it\nbe so or no.\n'But here is an Action that has neither reality, nor pretence, here\nis not Face enough upon it to bear an Apology. First, they\nacknowledge one King, and then set up another King against him;\neither they first acknowledg'd a wrong King, and thereby became\nParties to a Usurper, or they act now against all the Rules of common\nJustice in the World, to set up a sham King, to pull down a true one,\nonly because 'tis their Interest to have it so.\n'This makes the very Name of a Solunarian scandalous to all the Moon,\nand Mankind look upon them with the utmost Prejudice, as if they were\na Nation who had sold all their Honesty to their Interest; and who\ncould act this way to Day, and that way to Morrow, without any regard\nto Truth, or the Rule of Honour, Equity or Conscience; This is\nSwearing any thing to save the Skip; and never let any Man Reproach\nthe Gallunarian King with breaking the Treaty of Division, and\ndisregarding the Faith and Stipulations of Leagues; for this is an\nAction so inconsistent with it self, so incongruous to common\nJustice, to the Reason and Nature of things, that no History of any\nof these latter Times can parallel it, and 'tis past the Power of Art\nto make any reasonable Defence for it.\n'Indeed some lame Reasons are given for it by our Polititians. First,\nthey say the Prince with the great Lip was extremely prest by the\nGallunarians at Home in his own Country, and not without\napprehensions of seeing them e'er long, under the Walls of his\ncapital City.\n'From this circumstance of the Man with the Lip, 'twas not irrational\nto expect that he might be induc'd to make a separate Peace with the\nGallunarians, and serve them as he did once the Prince of Berlindia\nat the Treaty of Peace in a former War, where he deserted him after\nthe solemnest Engagements never to make Peace without him; but his\npressing Occasions requiring it, concluded a Peace without him, and\nleft him to come out of the War, as well as he could, tho' he had\ncome into it only for his Assistance. Now finding him in danger of\nbeing ruin'd by the Gallunarian Power, and judging from former\nPractice in like Cases, that he might be hurry'd into a Peace, and\nleave them in the Lurch; they have drawn him into this Labrinth, as\ninto a Step, which can never be receded from without the utmost\nAffront and Disgrace, either to the Family of the Gallunarian, or of\nthe Lip; an Action which in its own Nature, is a Defiance of the\nwhole Gallunarian Power, and without any other Manifesto, may be\ntaken as a Declaration from the House of the Lip, to the Gallunarian,\nthat this War shall never end, till one of those two Families are\nruin'd and reduc'd.\n'What Condition the Prince with the Lip's Power is in, to make such a\nhuff at this Time, shall come under Examination by and by; in the\nmean time the Solunarians have clench'd the Nail, and secur'd the War\nto last as long as they think convenient.\n'If the Gallunarians should get the better, and reduce the Man with\nthe Lip to Terms never so disadvantageous, he cannot now make a Peace\nwithout leave from the Solunarians and the Mogenites, least his Son\nshould be ruin'd also.----- Or if he should make Articles for\nhimself, it must be with ten times the Dishonour that he might have\ndone before.\n'Politicians say, 'tis never good for a Prince to put himself into a\ncase of Desperation. This is drawing the Sword, and throwing away the\nScabbard; if a Disaster should befal him, his Retreat is impossible,\nand this must have been done only to secure the Man with the Lip from\nbeing hufft, or frighted into a separate Peace.\n'The second Reason People here give, why the Solunarians are\nconcerning themselves in this Matter, is drawn from Trade.\n'The continuing of Ebronia in the Hands of the Gallunarians, will\nmost certainly be the Destruction of the Solunarian and Mogenites\nTrade, both to that Kingdom, and the whole Seas on that side of the\nMoon; as this Article includes a fifth Part of all the Trade of the\nMoon, and would in Conjunction with the Gallunarians at last bring\nthe Mastership of the Sea, out of the Hands of the other, so it would\nin effect be more detriment to those two Nations, than ten Kingdoms\nlost, if they had them to part with.\n'This the Solunarians foreseeing, and being extremely sensible of the\nentire Ruin of their Trade, have left no Stone unturn'd to bring this\npiece of Pageantry on the Stage, by which they have hook'd in the Old\nBlack Eagle to plunge himself over Head and Ears in the Quarrel, in\nsuch a manner, as he can never go back with any tolerable Honour; he\ncan never quit his Son and the Crown of Ebronia, without the greatest\nReproach and Disgrace of all the World in the Moon.\n'Now whether one, or both of these Reasons are true in this Case, as\nmost believe both of them to be true; the Policy of my Country-men,\nthe Solunarians is visible indeed, but as for their Honesty, it is\npast finding out.\n'But it is objected here, this Son of the Lip has an undoubted Right\nto the Crown of Ebronia. We do not Fight now to set up an Usurper,\nbut to pull down an Usurper, and it has been made plain by the\nManifesto, that the giving a Kingdom by Will, is no conveyance of\nRight; the Prince of the Eagle has an undoubted Right, and they Fight\nto maintain it.\n'If this be true, then we must ask these High and Mighty Gentlemen\nhow came they to recognize and acknowledge the present King on the\nThrone? why did they own an Usurper if he be such? either one or\nother must be an act of Cowardize and Injustice, and all the\nPoliticks of the Moon cannot clear them of one of these two Charges;\neither they were Cowardly Knaves before, or else they must be Cunning\nKnaves now.\n'If the Young Eagle has an undoubted Title now, so he had before, and\nthey knew it as well before, as they do now; what can they say for\nthemselves, why they should own a King, who they knew had no Title,\nor what can they say for going to pull down one that has a Title?\n'I must be allow'd to distinguish between Fighting with a Nation, and\nFighting with the King. For Example. Our Quarrel with the\nGallunarians is with the whole Nation, as they are grown too strong\nfor their Neighbours. But our Quarrel with Ebronia is not with the\nNation, but with their King, and this Quarrel seems to be unjust in\nthis particular, at least in them who own'd him to be King, for that\nput an end to the Controversy.\n''Tis true, the Justice of publick Actions, either in Princes, or in\nStates, is no such nice Thing, that any Body should be surpriz'd, to\nsee the Government forfeit their Faith, and it seems the Solunarians\nare no more careful this way, than their Neighbours. But then those\nPeople should in especial manner forbear to reproach Other Nations\nand Princes, with the breaches which they themselves are subject too.\n'As to the Eagle, we have nothing to say to the Honesty of his\ndeclaring his Son King of Ebronia, for as is hinted before, he never\nacknowledg'd the Title of the Usurper, but always declar'd, and\ninsisted on his own undoubted Right, and that he would recover it if\nhe could.\n'Without doubt the Eagle has a Title by Proximity of Blood, founded\non the renunciation of the King of Gallunaria formerly mention'd, and\nif the Will of the late King be Invalid, or he had no Right to give\nthe Soveraignty of his Kingdoms away, then the Eagle is next Heir.\n'But as we quit his Morals, and justify the Honesty of his\nProceedings in the War, against the present King of Ebronia, so in\nthis Action of declaring his second Son. We must begin to question\nhis Understanding, and saying a respect of decency, it looks as if\nhis Musical Head was out of Tune, to Illus tratellus. I crave leave\nto tell you a Story out of your own Country, which we have heard of\nhither. A French Man that could speak but broken English, was at the\nCourt of England, when on some occasion he happen'd to hear the Title\nof the King of England read thus, Charles the II. King of England,\nScotland France and Ireland.\n'Vat is dat you say? says Monsieur, being a little affronted, the Man\nreads it again, as before. Charles the Second, King of England,\nScotland, France and Ireland.------ Charles the Second, King of\nFrance! Ma Foy, says the French Man, you can no read, Charles the\nSecond, King of France, ha! ha! ha! Charles the Second, King of\nFrance, when he can catch. Any one may apply the Story, whether it\nwas a true one or no.\n'All the Lunar World looks on it, therefore, as a most Ridiculous,\nSenseless Thing, to make a Man a King of a Country he has not one\nFoot of Land in, nor can have a Foot there, but what he must Fight\nfor. As to the probability of gaining it, I have nothing to say to\nit, but if we may guess at his Success there, by what has been done\nin other Parts of the Moon, we find he has Fought three Campaigns, to\nlose every Foot he had got.\n'It had been much more to the Honour of the Eagle's Conduct, and of\nthe young Hero himself, first to ha' let him ha' fac'd his Enemy in\nthe Field, and as soon as he had beaten him, the Ebronians would have\nacknowledg'd him fast enough; or his own Victorious Troops might have\nProclaim'd him at the Gate of their Capital City; and if after all,\nthe Success of the War had deny'd him the Crown he had fought for, he\nhad the Honour to have shown his Bravery, and he had been where he\nwas, a Prince of the Great Lip. A Son of the Eagle is a Title much\nmore Honourable than a King Without a Crown, without Subjects,\nwithout a Kingdom, and another Man upon his Throne; but by this\ndeclaring him King, the old Eagle has put him under a necessity of\ngaining the Kingdom of Ebronia, which at best is a great hazard, or\nif he fails to be miserably despicable, and to bear all his Life the\nconstant Chagrin of a great Title and no Possession.\n'How ridiculous will this poor Young Gentleman look, if at last he\nshould be forc'd to come Home again without his Kingdom? what a King\nof Clouts will he pass for, and what will this King-making old\nGentlemen, his Father say, when the young Hero shall tell him, your\nMajesty has made me Mock King for all the World to laugh at.\n''Twas certainly the weakest Thing that could be, for the Eagle thus\nto make him a King of that, which, were the probability greater than\nit is, he may easily, without the help of a Miracle, be disappointed\nof.\n''Tis true, the Confederates talk big, and have lately had a great\nVictory, and if Talk will beat the King of Ebronia out of his\nKingdom, he is certainly undone, but we do not find the Gallunarians\npart with any thing they can keep, nor that they quit any thing\nwithout Blows; It must cost a great deal of Blood and Treasure before\nthis War can be ended; if absolute Conquest on one side must be the\nMatter, and if the Design on Ebronia should miscarry, as one Voyage\nthither has done already, where are we then? Let any Man but look\nback, and consider what a sorry Figure your Confederate Fleet in your\nWorld had made, after their Andalusian Expedition, if they had not\nmore by Fate than Conduct, chopt upon a Booty at Vigo as they came\nback.\n'In the like condition, will this new King come back, if he should go\nfor a Kingdom and should not Catch, as the French Man call'd it. 'Tis\nin the Sense of the probability of this miscarriage, that most Men\nwonder at these unaccountable Measures, and think the Eagles Councils\nlook a little Wildish, as if some of his great Men were grown\nDilirious and Whymsical, that fancy'd Crowns and Kingdoms were to\ncome and go, just as the great Divan at their Court should direct.\nThis confusion of Circumstances has occasion'd a certain Copy of\nVerses to appear about the Moon, which in our Characters may be read\nas follows.\n  Wondelis Idulasin na Perixola Metartos,\n    Strigunia Crolias Xerin Hytale fylos;\n  Farnicos Galvare Orpto sonamel Egonsberch,\n    Sih lona Sipos Gullia Ropta Tylos.\n'Which may be English'd thus.\n  Casar you Trifle with the World in vain,\n  Think rather now of Germany than Spain;\n  He's hardly fit to fill th' Eagle's Throne,\n  Who gives new Crowns, and can't protect his own.\n'But after all to come closer to the Point, if I can now make it out\nthat whatever it was before, this very Practice of declaring a second\nSon to be King of Ebronia, has publickly own'd the Proceedings of the\nKing of Gallunaria to be Just, and the Title of his Grandson to be\nmuch better than the Title of the now declar'd King, what shall we\ncall it then?\n'In order to this, 'tis first necessary to examine the Title of the\npresent King, and to enter into the history of his coming to the\nCrown, in which I shall be very Brief.\n'The last King of Ebronia dying without Issue, and a former\nRenunciation taking place, the Succession devolves on the House of\nthe Eagle as before, of whom the present Eagle is the eldest Branch.\n'But the late King of Ebronia, to prevent the Succession of the\nEagle's Line, makes a Will, and supplies the Proviso of Renunciation\nby Devising, Giving or Bequeathing the Crown to the Grandson of his\nSister.\n'The King of Gallunaria insists that this is a lawful Title to the\nCrown, and seizes it accordingly, inflating his Grandson in the\nPossession.\n'The Eagle alledges the Renunciation to confirm his Title as Heir;\nand as to the Will of the late King, he says Crowns cannot descend by\nGift, and tho' the late King had an undoubted Right to enjoy it\nhimself, he had none to give it away.\n'To make the application of this History as short as may be, I demand\nthen what Right has the Eagle to give it to his second Son? if Crowns\nare not to descend by Gift, he may have a Right to enjoy it, but can\nhave none to give it away, but if he has a Right to give it away; so\nhad the former King, and then the present King has a better Title to\nit than the new one, because his Gift was Prior to this of the Eagle.\n'I would be glad to see this answer'd; and if it can't, then I Query\nwhether the Eagle's Senses ought not to be question'd, for setting up\na Title very Foundation for which he quarrels at him that is in\nPossession, and so confirm the honesty of the Possessor's Title by\nhis own Practice.?\n'From the whole, I make no Scruple to say that either the Eagle's\nsecond Son has no Title to the Kingdom of Ebronia, or else giving of\nCrowns is a legal Practice; and if Crowns may descend by Gift, then\nhas the other King a better Title than he, because it was given him\nfirst, and the Eagle has only given away what he had no Right to,\nbecause 'twas given away before he had any Title to it himself.\n'Further, the Posterity of the Eagle's eldest Son are manifestly\ninjur'd in this Action, for Kings can no more give away their Crowns\nfrom their Posterity, than from themselves; if the Right be in the\nEagle, 'tis his, as he's the eldest Male Branch of the House of the\ngreat Lip, not as he is Eagle, and from him the Crown of Ebronia by\nthe same Right of Devolution descends to his Posterity, and rests on\nthe Male Line of every eldest Branch. If so, no Act of Renunciation\ncan alter this Succession, for that is a Gift, and the Gift is\nexploded, or else the whole House of the great Lip is excluded; so\nthat let the Argument be turn'd and twisted never so many ways, it\nall Centers in this, that the present Person can have no Title to the\nCrown of Ebronia.\n'If he has any Title, 'tis from the Gift of his Father and elder\nBrother; if the Gift of a Crown is no good Title, then his Title\ncannot be good; If the Gift of a Crown is a good Title, then the\nCrown was given away before, and so neither he nor his Father has any\nTitle.\n'Let him that can answer these Paradoxes defend his Title if he can;\nand what shall we now say to the War in Ebronia, only this, that they\nare going to fight for the Crown of Ebronia? and to take it away from\none that has no Right to it, to give it to one that has a less Right\nthan he, and 'tis to be fear'd that if Heaven be Righteous, 'twill\nsucceed accordingly.\n'The Gentlemen of Letters who have wrote of this in our Lunar World,\non the Subject of the Gallunarians Title, have took a great deal of\nLiberty in the Eagle's behalf, to Banter and Ridicule the Gallunarian\nsham of a Title, as if it were a pretence too weak for any Prince to\nmake use of, to talk of Kings giving their Crowns by Will.\nKingdoms and Governments, says a Learned Lunar author, are not things\nof such indifferent Value to be given away, like a Token left for a\nLegacy. If any Prince has ever given or transferr'd his Government,\nit has been done by solemn Act, and the People have been call'd to\nassent and confirm such Concessions.\n'Then the same Author goes on, to Treat the King of Gallunaria with a\ngreat deal of Severity, and exposes his Politicks, that he should\nthink to put upon the Moon with so empty, so weak, so ridiculous a\nPretence, as the Will of a weak Headed Prince, who neither had a\nRight to give his Crown, nor a Brain to know what he was doing, and\nhe laughs to think what the King of Gallunaria would have said to\nhave such a dull Trick as that, put upon him in any such Case.\n'Now when we have been so Witty upon this very Article, of giving\naway the Crown to the King of Gallunaria's Grandson, as an\nincongruous and ridiculous Thing, shall we come to make the same\nIncongruity be the Foundation of a War?\n'With what Justice can we make a War for a Prince who has only a good\nTitle, by Vertue of the self same Action which makes the Grandson of\nhis Enemy have a bad Title.\n'I always thought we had a Just Ground to make War on Ebronia, as we\nwere bound by former Alliances to assist the Eagle in the recovery of\nit in case of the death of the late King of that Country.\n'But now the Eagle has refus'd the Succession, and his Eldest Son has\nrefus'd it, I would be glad to see it prov'd how the second Son can\nhave a Title, and yet the other King have no Title.\n'What a strange sort of a Thing is the Crown of Ebronia, that two of\nthe greatest Princes of the Lunar World should Fight, not who shall\nhave it, for neither of them will accept of it, but who shall have\nthe Power of giving it away.\n'Here are four Princes refuse it; the King of Gallunaria's Sons had a\nTitle in Right of their Mother, and 'twas not the former\nRenunciations that would have barr'd them, if this softer way had not\nbeen found out; for time was it has been pleaded on behalf of the\neldest Son of the Gallunarian King, that his Mother could not give\naway his Right before he was born.\n'Then the Eagle has a Right, and under him his eldest Son; and none\nof all these four will accept of the Crown; I believe all the Moon\ncan't find four more that would refuse it.\n'Now, tho' none of these think it worth accepting themselves, yet\nthey fall out about the Right of giving it away. The King of\nGallunaria will not accept of it himself, but he gets a Gift from the\nlast Incumbent. This, says the Eagle, can't be a good Title, for the\nlate King had no Right to make a Deed of Gift of the Crown, since a\nKing is only Tennant for Life, and Succession of Crowns either must\ndescend by a Lineal Progression in the Right of Primogeniture, or\nelse they lose the Tenure, and devolve on the People.\n'Now as this Argument holds good the Eagle has an undoubted Title to\nthe Crown of Ebronia: But then, says his Eaglish Majesty, I cannot\naccept of the Crown my self for I am the Eagle, and my eldest Son has\ntwo Kingdoms already, and is in a fair way to be Eagle after me, and\n'tis not worth while for him, but I have a second Son, and we will\ngive it him.\n'Now may the King of Gallunaria say, if one Gift is good, another is\ngood, and ours is the first Gift, and therefore we will keep it; and\ntho' I solemnly declare I should be very sorry to see the Crown of\nEbronia rest in the House of the Gallunarian, because our Trade will\nsuffer exceedingly; yet if never so much damage were to come of it,\nwe ought to do Justice in the World; if neither the Eagle nor his\neldest Son will be King of Ebronia, but a Deed of Gift shall be made,\nthe first Gift has the Right, for nothing can be given away to two\nPeople at once, and 'tis apparent that the late King had as much\nRight to give it away as any Body.\n'The poor Ebronians are in a fine Condition all this while, that no\nBody concerns them in the Matter; neither Party has so much as\nthought it worth while to ask them who they would have to Reign over\nthem, here has been no Assembly, no Cortez, no Meeting of the People\nof Ebronia, neither Collectively or Representatively, no general\nConvention of the Nobility, no House of Feathers, but Ebronia lies as\nthe spoil of the Victor wholly passive, and her People and Princes,\nas if they were wholly unconcern'd, lie by and look on, whoever is\nlike to be King, they are like to suffer deeply by the Strife, and\nyet neither side has thought fit to consult them about it.\n'The conclusion of the whole Matter is in short this, here is\ncertainly a false Step taken, how it shall be rectify'd is not the\npresent Business, nor am I Wise enough to Prescribe. One Man may do\nin a Moment what all the Lunar World cannot undo in an Age. 'Tis not\nbe thought the Eagle will be prevail'd on to undo it, nay he has\nSworn not to alter it.\n'I am not concern'd to prove the Title of the present King of\nEbronia, no, nor of the Eagles neither; but I think I can never be\nanswer'd in this, that this Gift of the Eagles to his second Son is\npreposterous, inconsistent with all his Claim to the Crown, and the\ngreatest confirmation of the Title of his Enemy that it was possible\nto give, and no doubt the Gallunarians will lay hold of the Argument.\n'If this Prince was the Eagle's eldest Son, he might have a Just\nRight from the concession of his Father, because the Right being\ninherent, he only receiv'd from him an Investiture of Time, but as\nthis young Gentleman is a second Son he has no more Right, his elder\nBrother being alive, than your Grand Seignior, or Czar of Muscovy in\nyour World.\n'Let them Fight then for such a Cause, who valuing only the Pay, make\nWar a Trade, and Fight for any thing they are bid to Fight for, and\nas such value not the Justice of the War, nor trouble their Heads\nabout Causes and Consequences, so they have their Pay, 'tis well\nenough for them.\n'But were the Justice of the War examin'd, I can see none, this\nDeclaring a new King who has no Right but by a Gift, and pulling down\none that had it by a Gift before, has so much Contradiction in it,\nthat I am afraid no Wise Man, or Honest Man will embark in it.\n     Your\n         Humble Servant,\n             The Man in the Moon.\nI wou'd have no Body now pretend to scandalize the Writer of this\nLetter, which being for the Gallunarians, for no Man in the Moon had\nmore Aversion for them than he, but he would have had the War carry'd\non upon a right Bottom, Justice and Honesty regarded in it, and as he\nsaid often, they had no need to go out of the Road of Justice, for\nhad they made War in the great Eagle's Name all had been well.\nNor was he a false Prophet, for as this was ill grounded, so it was\nas ill carry'd on, met with Shocks, Rubs and Disappointments every\nway. The very first Voyage the new King made, he had like to ha' been\ndrown'd by a very violent Tempest, things not very usual in those\nCountries; and all the Progress that had been made in his behalf when\nI came away from that Lunar World, had not brought him so much as to\nbe able to set his Foot upon his new Kingdom of Ebronia, but his\nAdversary by wonderful Dexterity, and the Assistance of his old\nGrandfather the Gallunarian Monarch, beat his Troops upon all\nOccasions, invaded his Ally that pretended to assist him, and kept a\nquiet Possession of all the vast Ebronian Monarchy; and but at last\nby the powerful Diversion of the Solunarian Fleet, a Shock was given\nthem on another Side, which if it had not happen'd, it was thought\nthe new King had been sent home again Re Infecta.\nBeing very much Shockt in my Judgment of this Affair, by these\nunanswerable Reasons; I enquir'd of my Author who were the Directors\nof this Matter? he told me plainly it was done by those great States\nMen, which the Solunarian Queen had lately very Justly turn'd out,\nwhose Politicks were very unaccountable in a great many other things,\nas well as in that.\n'Tis true, the War was carry'd on under the new Ministry, and no War\nin the World can be Juster, on account of the Injustice and\nEncroachment of the Gallunarian Monarch.\nThe Queen therefore and her present Ministers, go on with the War on\nPrinciples of Confederacy; 'tis the business of the Solunarians to\nbeat the Invader out, and then let the People come and make a fair\nDecision who they will have to Reign over them.\nThis indeed justifies the War in Ebronia to be Right, but for the\nPersonal Proceedure as before, 'tis all Contradiction and can never\nbe answer'd.\nI hope no Man will be so malicious, as to say I am hereby reflecting\non our War with Spain. I am very forward to say, it is a most Just\nand Reasonable War, as to paralels between the Case of the Princes,\nin defending the Matter of Personal Right, Hic labor, Hoc opus.\nThus however you see Humanum eft Errare, whether in this World or in\nthe Moon, 'tis all one, Infallibility of Councels any more than of\nDoctrine, is not in Man.\nThe Reader may observe, I have formerly noted there was a new\nConsolidator to be Built, and observ'd what struggle there was in the\nMoon about choosing the Feathers.\nI cannot omit some further Remarks here, as\n1. It is to be observ'd, that this last Consolidator was in a manner\nquite worn out.----- It had indeed continu'd but 3 Year, which was\nthe stated Time by Law, but it had been so Hurry'd, so Party Rid, so\noften had been up in the Moon, and made so many such extravagant\nFlights, and unnecessary Voyages thither, that it began to be\nexceedingly worn and defective.\n2. This occasion'd that the light fluttering Feathers, and the\nfermented Feathers made strange Work of it; nay, sometimes they were\nso hot, they were like to ha' ruin'd the whole Fabrick, and had it\nnot been for the great Feather in the Center, and a few Negative\nFeathers who were Wiser than the rest, all the Machines had been\nbroke to pieces, and the whole Nation put into a most strange\nConfusion.\nSometimes their Motion was so violent an precipitant, that there was\ngreat apprehensions of its being set on Fire by its own Velocity, for\nswiftness of Motion is allow'd by the Sages and so so's to produce\nFire as in Wheels, Mills and several sorts of Mechanick Engines which\nare frequently Fir'd, and so in Thoughts, Brains, Assemblies,\nConsolidators, and all such combustible Things.\nIndeed these things were of great Consequence, and therefore require\nsome more nice Examination than ordinary, and the following Story\nwill in part explain it.\nAmong the rest of the Broils they had with the Grandees, one happen'd\non this occasion.\nOne of the Tacking Feathers being accidentally met by a Grandee's\nFootman, whom it seems wanted some Manners, the Slave began to haloo\nhim in the Street, with a Tacker, a Tacker, a Feather-Fool, a Tacker,\n&c. and so brought the Mob about him, and had not the Grandee himself\ncome in the very interim, and rescu'd the Feather, the Mob had\ndemolisht him, they were so enrag'd.\nAs this Gentleman-Feather was rescu'd with great Courtesie by the\nGrandee, taken into his Coach and carry'd home to his House, he\ndesir'd to speak with the Footman.\nThe Fellow being call'd in, was ask't by him who employ'd him, or set\nhim on to offer him this Insult? the Footman being a ready bold\nFellow, told him no Body Sir, but you are all grown so ridiculous to\nthe whole Nation, that if the 134 of you were left but to us Footmen,\nand it was not in more respect to our Masters, than you, we should\nCure you of ever coming into the Consolidator again, and all the\nPeople in the Moon are of our Mind.\nBut says the Feather, why do you call me Fool too? why Sir, says he,\nbecause no Body could ever tell us what it was you drove at, and we\nha' been told you never knew your selves; now if one of you Tacking\nFeathers would but tell the World what your real Design was, they\nwould be satisfy'd, but to be leaders in the Consolidator, and to Act\nwithout Meaning, without Thought or Design, must argue your' Fools,\nor worse, and you will find all the Moon of my Mind.\nBut what if we had a meaning, says the Feather-Man? why then, says\nthe Footman, we shall leave calling you Fools, and call you Knaves,\nfor it could never be an Honest one, so that you had better stand as\nyou do: and I make it out thus.\nYou knew, that upon your Tacking the Crolians to the Tribute Bill,\nthe Grandees must reject both, they having declar'd against reading\nany Bills Tackt together, as being against their Priviledges. Now if\nyou had any Design, it must be to have the Bill of Tribute lost, and\nthat must be to disappoint all the publick Affairs, expose the Queen,\nbreak all Measures, discourage the Confederates, and putting all\nthings backward, bring the Gallunarian Forces upon them, and put all\nSolunaria into Confusion. Now Sir, says he, we cannot have such\ncourse Thoughts of you, as to believe you could design such dark,\nmischievous things as these, and therefore we chose to believe you\nall Fools, and not fit to be put into a Consolidator again; than\nKnaves and Traytors to your Country, and consequently fit for a worse\nPlace.\nThe plainness of the Footman was such, and so unanswerable, that his\nMaster was fain to check him, and so the Discourse broke off, and we\nshall leave it there, and proceed to the Story.\nThe Men of the Feather as I have noted, who are represented here by\nthe Consolidator, fell all together by the Ears, and all the Moon was\nin a combustion. The Case was as follows.\nThey had three times lost their quallifying Law, and particularly\nthey observ'd the Grandees were the Men that threw it out, and\nnotwithstanding the Plot of the Tackers, as they call'd them, who\nwere as I noted, observ'd to be in Conjunction with the Crolians, yet\nthe Law always past the Feathers, but still the Grandees quasht it.\nTo show their Resentment at the Grandees, they had often made\nattempts to mortify them, sometimes Arraigning them in general,\nsometimes Impeaching private Members of their House, but still all\nwou'd not do, the Grandees had the better of them, and going on with\nRegularity and Temper, the Consolidators or Feather-Men always had\nthe worst, the Grandees had the applause of all the Moon, had the\nlast Blow on every Occasion, and the other sunk in their Reputation\nexceedingly.\nIt is necessary to understand here, that the Men of the Feather serve\nin several Capacities, and under several Denominations, and act by\nthemselves, singly consider'd, they are call'd the Consolidator, and\nthe Feathers we mention'd abstracted from their Persons, make the\nglorious Engine we speak of, and in which, when any suddain Motion\ntakes them, they can all shut themselves up, and away for the Moon.\nBut when these are joyn'd with the Grandees, and the Queen, so\nUnited, they make a great Cortez, or general Collection of all the\nGoverning Authority of the Nation.\nWhen this last Fraction happen'd, the Men of the Feather were under\nan exceeding Ferment, they had in some Passion taken into their\nCustody, some good Honest Lunar Country-Men, for an Offence, which\nindeed few but themselves ever immagin'd was a Crime, for the poor\nMen did nothing but pursue their own Right by the Law.\n'Tis thought the Men of the Feather soon saw they were in the Wrong,\nbut acted like some Men in our World, that when they make a mistake,\nbeing too Proud to own themselves in the wrong, run themselves into\nworse Errors to mend it.\nSo these Lunar Gentlemen disdaining to have it said they could be\nmistaken, committed two Errors to conceal one, 'till at last they\ncame to be laught at by all the Moon.\nThese poor Men having lain a long while in Prison, for little or no\nCrime, at last were advis'd to apply themselves to the Law for\nDischarge; the Law would fairly have Discharg'd them; for in that\nCountry, no Man may be Imprison'd, but he must in a certain Time be\nTryed, or let go upon pledges of his Friends, much like our giving\nBail on a Writ of Habeas Corpus; but the Judges, whether over-aw'd by\nthe Feathers, or what was the Cause, Authors have not determin'd, did\nnot care to venture Discharging them.\nThe poor Men thus remanded, apply'd themselves to the Grandees who\nwere then Sitting, and who are the Soveraign Judicature of the\nCountry, and before whom Appeals lie from all Courts of Justice. The\nGrandees as in Duty bound, appear'd ready to do them Justice, but the\nQueen was to be apply'd to, first to grant a Writ, or a Warrant for a\nWrit, call'd in their Country a Writ of Follies, which is as much as\nto say Mistakes.\nThe Consolidators foreseeing the Consequence, immediately apply'd\nthemselves to the Queen with an Address, the Terms of which were so\nUndu----l and Unman--ly, that had she not been a Queen of unusual\nCandor and Goodness, she would have Treated them as they deserv'd,\nfor they upbraided her with their Freedom and Readiness in granting\nher Supplies, and therefore as good as told her they expected she\nshould do as they desir'd.\nThese People that knew the Supplies given, were from necessity,\nLegal, and for their own Defence, while the granting their Request,\nmust have been Illegal, Arbitrary, a Dispensing with the Laws, and\ndenying Justice to her Subjects, the very thing they ruin'd her\nFather for, were justly provok'd to see their good Queen so\nbarbarously Treated.\nThe Queen full of Goodness and Calmness, gave them a gentle kind\nAnswer, but told them she must be careful to Act with due Regard to\nthe Laws, and could not interrupt the course of Judicial Proceedings;\nand at the same time granted the Writ, having first consulted with\nher Council, and receiv'd the Opinion of all the Judges, that it was\nnot only Safe, but Just and Reasonable, and a Right to her People\nwhich she could not deny.\nThis Proceeding gall'd the Feathers to the quick, and finding the\nGrandees resolv'd to proceed Judicially upon the said Writ of\nFollies, which if they did, the Prisoners would be deliver'd and the\nFollies fixt upon the Feathers, they sent their Poursuivants took\nthem out of the Common Prison, and convey'd them separately and\nprivately into Prisons of their own.\nThis rash and unprecedented Proceedings, pusht them farther into a\nLabrinth, from whence it was impossible they could ever find their\nway out, but with infinite Loss to their Reputation, like a Sheep in\na thick Wood, that at every Briar pulls some of the Wool from her\nBack, till she comes out in a most scandalous Pickle of Nakedness and\nScratches.\nThe Grandees immediately publisht six Articles in Vindication of the\nPeoples Right, against the assum'd Priviledges of the Feathers, the\nAbstract of which is as follows.\n1. That the Feathers had no Right to Claim, or make any new\nPriviledges for themselves, other than they had before.\n2. That every Freeman of the Moon had a Right to repel Injury with\nLaw.\n3. That Imprisoning the 5 Countrymen by the Feathers, was assuming a\nnew Priviledge they had no Right to, and a subjecting the Subjects\nRight to their Arbitrary Votes.\n4. That a Writ of Deliverance, or removing the Body, is the legal\nRight of every Subject in the Moon, in order to his Liberty, in case\nof Imprisonment.\n5. That to punish any Person for assisting the Subjects, in procuring\nor prosecuting the said Writ of Deliverance, is a breach of the Laws,\nand a thing of dangerous Consequence.\n6. That a Writ of Follies is not a Grace, but a Right, and ought not\nto be deny'd to the Subject.\nThese Resolves struck the languishing Reputation of the Feathers with\nthe dead Palsie, and they began to stink in the Nostrils of all the\nNations in the Moon.\nBut besides this, they had one strange effect, which was a prodigious\ndisappointment to the Men of the Feather.\nI had observ'd before, that there was to be a new Set of Feathers,\nprovided in order to Building another Consolidator, according to a\nlate Law for a new Engine every three Years. Now several of these Men\nof the Feather, who thought their Feathers capable of serving again,\nhad made great Interest, and been at great Cost to have their old\nFeathers chosen again, but the People had entertain'd such scoundrel\nOpinions of these Proceedings, such as Tacking, Consolidating,\nImprisoning Electors, Impeaching without Tryal, Writs of Follies and\nthe like, that if any one was known to be concern'd in any of these\nthings, no Body would Vote for him.\nThe Gentlemen were so mortify'd at this, that even the hottest\nHigh-Church Solunarian of them all, if he put in any where to be\nre-chosen, the first thing he had to do, was to assure the People he\nwas no Tacker, none of the 134, and a vast deal of difficulty they\nhad to Purge themselves of this blessed Action, which they us'd to\nvalue themselves on before, as their Glory and Merit.\nThus they grew asham'd of it as a Crime, got Men to go about to vouch\nfor them to the Country People, that they were no Tackers, nay, one\nof them to clear himself loudly forswore it, and taking a Glass of\nWine wisht it might never pass thro' him, if he was a Tacker, tho'\nall Men suspected him to be of that Number too, he having been one of\nthe forwardest that way on all Occasions, of any Person among the\nSouth Folk of the Moon.\nIn like manner, one of the Feathers for the middle Province of the\nCountry, who us'd to think it his Honour to be for the qualifying\nLaw, seeing which way the humour of the Country ran, took as much\nPains now to tell the People he was no Tacker, as he did before, to\npromise them that he would do his utmost to have the Crolians\nreduc'd, and that Bill to pass, the Reason of which was plain, that\nhe saw if it should be known he was a Tacker, he should never have\nhis Feather return'd to be put into the Consolidator.\nThe Heats and Feuds that the Feathers and the Grandees were now run\ninto, began to make the latter very uneasie, and they sent to the\nGrandees to hasten them, and put them in mind of passing some Laws\nthey had sent up to them for raising Mony, and which lay before them,\nknowing that as soon as those Laws were past, the Queen would break\n'em up, and they being very willing to be gone, before these things\ncame too far upon the Stage, urg'd them to dispatch.\nBut the Grandees resolving to go thoro' with the Matter, sent to them\nto come to a Treaty on the foot of the six Articles, and to bring any\nReasons they could, to prove the Power they had to Act as they had\ndone with the Country-men, and with the Lawyers they had put in\nPrison for assisting them.\nThe Feathers were very backward and stiff about this Conference, or\nTreaty, 'till at last the Grandees having sufficiently expos'd them\nto all the Nation, the Bills were past, the Grandees caus'd the\nparticulars to be Printed, and a Representation of their Proceedings,\nand the Feathers foul Dealings to the Queen of the Country, and so\nher Majesty sent them Home.\nBut if they were asham'd of being call'd Tackers before, they were\ndoubly mortify'd at this now, nay the Country resented it so\nexceedingly, that some of them began to consider whether they should\nventure to go Home or no; Printed Lists of their Names were\nPublish'd, tho' we do not say they were true Lists, for it was a hard\nthing to know which were true Lists, and which were not, nor indeed\ncould a true List be made, no Man being able to retain the exact\nAccount of who were the Men in his Memory.\nFor as there were 134 Tackers, so there were 141 of these, who by a\nName of Distinction, were call'd Lebusyraneim, in English\nAilesbury-men.\nThe People were so exasperated against these, that they express'd\ntheir Resentment upon all Occasions, and least the Queen should think\nthat the Nation approv'd the Proceedings, they drew up a\nRepresentation or Complaint, full of most dutiful Expressions to\ntheir Queen, and full of Resentment against the Feathers, the Copy of\nwhich being handed about the Moon the last time I was there, I shall\ntake the Pains to put it into English in the best manner I can,\nkeeping as near the Originial as possible.\nIf any Man shall now wickedly suggest, that this Relation has any\nretrospect to the Affairs of England, the Author declares them\nmalitious Misconstruers of his honest Relation of Matters from this\nremote Country, and offers his positive Oath for their Satisfaction,\nthat the very last Journy he made into those Lunar Regions, this\nMatter was upon the Stage, of which, if this Treatise was not so near\nits conclusion, the Reader might expect a more particular Account.\nIf there is any Analogy or similitude between the Transactions of\neither World, he cannot account for that, 'tis application makes the\nAss.\nAnd yet sometimes he has thought, as some People Fable of the\nPlatonick Year, that after such a certain Revolution of Time, all\nThings are Transacted over again, and the same People live again, are\nthe fame Fools, Knaves, Philosophers and Mad-men they were before,\ntho' without any Knowledge of, or Retrospect to what they acted\nbefore; so why should it be impossible, that as the Moon and this\nWorld are noted before to be Twins and Sisters, equal in Motion and\nin Influence, and perhaps in Qualities, the same secret Power should\nso act them, as that like Actions and Circumstances should happen in\nall Parts of both Worlds at the same time.\nI leave this Thought to the improvement of our Royal Learned\nSocieties of the Anticacofanums, Opposotians, Periodicarians,\nAntepredestinarians, Universal Soulians, and such like unfathomable\nPeople, who, without question, upon mature Enquiry will find out the\nTruth of this Matter.\nBut if any one shall scruple the Matter of Fact as I have here\nrelated it, I freely give him leave to do as I did, and go up to the\nMoon for a Demonstration; and if upon his return he does not give\nample Testimony to the Case in every part of it, as here related, I\nam content to pass for the Contriver of it my self, and be punish'd\nas the Law shall say I deserve.\nNor was this all the publick Matters, in which this Nation of\nSolunarians took wrong Measures, for about this time, the\nMisunderstandings between the Southern and Northern Men began again,\nand the Solunarians made several Laws, as they call'd them, to secure\nthemselves against the Dangers they pretended might accrue from the\nnew Measures the Nolunarians had taken; but so unhappily were they\nblinded by the strife among themselves, and by-set by Opinion and\nInterest, that every Law they made, or so much as attempted to make,\nwas really to the Advantage, and to the Interest of the Northern-Men,\nand to their own loss; so Ignorantly and Weak-headed was these High\nSolunarian Church-Men in the true Interest of their Country, led by\ntheir implacable Malice at Crolianism, which as is before noted, was\nthe Establisht Religion of that Country.\nBut as this Matter was but Transacting when I took the other Remarks,\nand that I did not obtain a full Understanding of it, 'till my second\nVoyage, I refer it to a more full Relation of my farther Travels that\nway, when I shall not fail to give a clear State of the Debate of the\ntwo Kingdoms, in which the Southern Men had the least Reason, and the\nworst Success that ever they had in any Affair of that Nature for\nmany Years before.\nIt was always my Opinion in Affairs on this side the Moon, that tho'\nsometimes a foolish Bolt may hit the Point, and a random Shot kill\nthe Enemy, yet that generally Discretion and Prudence of Mannagement,\nhad the Advantage, and met with a proportion'd Success, find things\nwere, or were not happy, in their Conclusion as they were, more or\nless wisely Contriv'd and Directed.\nAnd tho' it may not be allow'd to be so here, yet I found it more\nconstantly so there, Effects were true to their Causes, and confusion\nof Councils never fail'd in the Moon to be follow'd by distracted and\ndestructive Consequences.\nThis appear'd more eminently in the Dispute between these two Lunar\nNations we are speaking of; never were People in the Moon, whatever\nthey might be in other Places, so divided in their Opinions about a\nmatter of such Consequence. Some were for declaring War immediately\nupon the Northern Men, tho' they could show no Reason at all why,\nonly because they would not do as they would have 'em; a parcel of\npoor Scoundrel, Scabby Rogues, they ought to be made submit, what!\nwon't they declare the same King as we do! hang them Rogues! a pack\nof Crolian Prestarian Devils, we must make them do it, down with them\nthe shortest Way, declare War immediately, and down with them.------\nNay some were for falling on them directly, without the formality of\ndeclaring War.\nOthers, more afraid than hurt, cry'd out Invasions, Depredation, Fire\nand Sword, the Northern Men would be upon them immediately, and\npropos'd to Fortify their Frontiers, and file off their Forces to the\nBorders; nay, so apprehensive did those Men of Prudence pretend to\nbe, that they order'd Towns to be Fortify'd 100 Mile off of the\nPlace, when all this while the poor Northern Men did nothing but tell\nthem, that unless they would come to Terms, they would not have the\nsame King as they, and they took some Measures to let them see they\ndid not purpose to be forc'd to it.\nAnother sort of Wiser Men than these, propos'd to Unite with them,\nhear their Reasons, and do them Right. These indeed were the only Men\nthat were in the right Method of concluding this unhappy Broil, and\nfor that Reason, were the most unlikely to succeed.\nBut the Wildest Notion of all, was, when some of the Grandees made a\ngrave Address to the Queen of the Country, to desire the Northern Men\nto settle Matters first, and to tell them, that when that was done,\nthey should see what these would do for them. This was a home Stroke,\nif it had but hit, and the Misfortune only lay in this, That the\nNorthern Men were not Fools enough; the clearness of the Air in those\ncold Climates generally clearing the Head so early, that those People\nsee much farther into a Mill-stone than any Blind Man in all the\nSouthern Nations of the Moon.\nThere was an another unhappiness in this Case, which made the Matter\nyet more confus'd, and that was, that the Souldiers had generally no\ngust to this War.--- This was an odd Case; for those sort of\nGentlemen, especially in the World in the Moon, don't use to enquire\ninto the Justice of the Case they Fight for, but they reckon 'tis\ntheir Business to go where they are sent, and kill any Body they are\norder'd to kill, leaving their Governors to answer for the Justice of\nit; but there was another Reason to be given why the Men of the Sword\nwere so averse, and always talk't coldly of the fighting Part, and\ntho' the Northern Men call'd it fear, yet I cannot joyn with them in\nthat, for to fear requires Thinking; and some of our Solunarians are\nabsolutely protected from the first, because they never meddle with\nthe last, except when they come to the Engine, and therefore 'tis\nplain it could not proceed from Fear.\nIt has puzzl'd the most discerning Heads of the Age, to give a Reason\nfrom whence this Aversion proceeded, and various Judgments have been\ngiven of it.\nThe Nolunarians jested with them, and when they talk't of Fighting,\nbad them look back into History, and examine what they ever made of a\nNolunarian War, and whether they had not been often well beaten, and\nsent short home, bid them have a care of catching a Tartar, as we\ncall it, and always made themselves merry with it.\nThey banter'd the Solunarians too, about the Fears and Terrors they\nwere under, from their Arming themselves, and putting themselves in a\nposture of Defence,----- When it was easy to see by the nature of the\nthing, that their Design was not a War, but a Union upon just\nConditions, that it was a plain Token that they design'd either to\nput some affront upon the Nolunarians, to deny them some just Claims,\nor to impose something very Provoking upon them more than they had\nyet done, that they were so exceeding fearful of an Invasion from\nthem.\nTho' these were sufficient to pass for Reasons in other Cases, yet it\ncould not be so here, but I saw there must be something else in it.\nAs I was thus wondering at this unusual backwardness of the\nSouldiers, I enquir'd a little farther into the meaning of it, and\nquickly found the Reason was plain, there was nothing to be got by\nit, that People were Brave, Desperate and Poor, the Country Barren,\nMountainous and Empty, so that in short there would be nothing but\nBlows, and Souldiers Fellows to be had, and I always observ'd that\nSouldiers never care to be knockt on the Head, and get nothing by the\nBargain.\nIn short, I saw plainly the Reasons that prompted the Solunarians to\nInsult their Neighbours of the North, were more deriv'd from the\nregret at their Establishing Crolianism, than at any real Causes they\nhad given, or indeed were in a condition to give them.\nThese, and abundance more particular Observations I made, but as I\nleft the thing still in agitation, and undetermin'd, I shall refer it\nto another Voyage which I purpose to make thither, and at my return,\nmay perhaps set that Case in a clearer Light than our Sight can yet\nbear to look at it in.\nIf in my second Vovage I should undeceive People in the Notions they\nentertain'd of those Northern People, and convince them that the\nSolunarians were really the Aggressors, and had put great hardships\nupon them, I might possibly do a Work, that if it met with\nEncouragement, might bring the Solunarians to do them Justice, and\nthat would set all to Rights, the two Nations might easily become\none, and Unite for ever, or at least become Friends, and give mutual\nAssistance to each other; and I cannot but own such an Agreement\nwould make them both very formidable, but this I refer to another\ntime.-----\nAt the same time I cannot leave it without a Remark that this\nJealousy between the two Nations, may perhaps in future Ages be\nnecessary to be maintain'd, in order to find some better Reasons for\nFortifications, Standing Armies, Guards and Garisons than could be\ngiven in the Reign of the great Prince I speak of, the Queen's\nPredecessor, tho' his was against Forreign insulting Enemy.\nBut the Temper of the Solunarian High Party was always such, that\nthey would with much more case give thanks for a Standing Army\nagainst the Nolunarians and Crolians, than agree to one Legion\nagainst the Abrogratzians and Gallunarians.\nBut of these Things I am also promis'd a more particular Account upon\nmy Journy into that Country.\nI cannot however conclude this Matter, without giving some Account of\nmy private Observations, upon what was farther to be seen in this\nCountry.\nAnd had not my Remarks on their State Matters taken up more of my\nThoughts than I expected, I might have entred a little upon their\nother Affairs, such as their Companies, their Commerce, their Publick\nOffices, their Stock-Jobbers, their Temper, their Conversation, their\nWomen, their Stages, Universities, their Courtiers, their Clergy, and\nthe Characters of the severals under all these Denominations, but\nthese must be referr'd to time, and my more perfect Observations.\nBut I cannot omit, that tho' I have very little Knowledge of Books,\nand had obtain'd less upon their Language, yet I could not but be\nvery inquisitive after their Libraries and Men of Letters.\nAmong their Libraries I found not abundance of their own Books, their\nLearning having so much of Demonstration, and being very\nHieroglyphical, but I found to my great Admiration vast quantities of\nTranslated Books out of all Languages of our World.\nAs I thought my self one of the first, at least of our Nation, that\never came thus far; it was, you may be sure no small surprize to me\nto find all the most valluable parts of Modern Learning, especially\nof Politicks, Translated from our Tongue, into the Lunar Dialect, and\nstor'd up in their Libraries with the Remarks, Notes and Observations\nof the Learned Men of that Climate upon the Subject.\nHere, among a vast croud of French Authors condemn'd in this polite\nWorld for trifling, came a huge Volume containing, Les Oevres de\nscavans, which has 19 small Bells painted upon the Book of several\ndisproportion'd sizes.\nI enquir'd the meaning of that Hieroglyphick, which the Master of the\nBooks told me, was to signify that the substance was all Jingle and\nNoise, and that of 30 Volumes which that one Book contains, 29 of\nthem have neither Substance, Musick, Harmony nor value in them.\nThe History of the Fulsoms, or a Collection of 300 fine Speeches made\nin the French Accademy at Paris, and 1500 gay Flourishes out of\nMonsieur Boileau, all in Praise of the invincible Monarch of France.\nThe Duke of Bavaria's Manifesto, shewing the Right of making War\nagainst our Sovereigns, from whence the People of that Lunar World\nhave noted that the same Reasons which made it lawful to him to\nattempt the Imperial Power, entitle him to lose his own, viz.\nConquest, and the longest Sword.\nJack a both Sides, or a Dialogue between Pasquin and Marforio, upon\nthe Subject Matter of the Pope's sincerity in Case of the War in\nItaly. Written by a Citizen of Ferrara. One side arguing upon the\noccasion of the Pope's General wheedling the Imperialists to quit\nthat Country. The other bantering Imperial Policy, or the Germains\npretending they were Trickt out of Italy, when they could stay there\nno longer.\nLewis the Invincible, by Monsieur Boileau. A Poem, on the Glory of\nhis most Christian Majesties Arms at Hochstedt, and Verue.\nAll these Translations have innumerable Hyerogliphical Notes, and\nEmblems painted on them, which pass as Comments, and are readily\nunderstood in that Climate. For Example, on the Vol. of Dialogues are\ntwo Cardinals washing the Pope's Hands under a Cloud that often\nbespatters them with Blood, signifying that in spight of all his\nPretensions he has a Hand in the Broils of Italy. And before him the\nSun setting in a Cloud, and a Blind Ballad-Singer making Sonnets upon\nthe brightness of its Lustre.\nThe three Kings of Brentford, being some Historical Observations on\nthree mighty Monarchs in our World, whose Heroick Actions may be the\nSubject of future Ages, being like to do little in this, the King of\nEngland, King of Poland, and King of Spain. These are describ'd by a\nFigure, representing a Castle in the Air, and three Knights pointing\nat it, but they could not catch.\nI omit abundance of very excellent pieces, because remote, as three\ngreat Volumes of European Misteries, among the vast varieties of\nwhich, and very entertaining, I observ'd but a few, such as these:\n1. Why Prince Ragotski will make no Peace with the Emperor.--- But\nmore particularly why the Emperor won't make Peace with him.\n2. Where the Policy of the King of Sweden lies, to persue the King of\nPoland, and let the Muscovites ravage and destroy his own Subjects.\n3. What the Duke of Bavaria propos'd to himself in declaring for\nFrance.\n4. Why the Protestants of the Confederacy never reliev'd the Camisars.\n5. Why there are no Cowards found in the English Service, but among\ntheir Sea Captains.\n6. Why the King of Portugal did not take Madrid, why the English did\nnot take Cadiz, and why the Spaniards did not take Gibraltar, viz.\nbecause the first were Fools, the second Knaves, and the last\nSpaniards.\n7. What became of all the Silver taken at Vigo.\n8. Who will be the next King of Scotland.\n9. If England should ever want a King, who would think it worth while\nto accept of it.\n10. What specifick difference can be produc'd between a Knave, a\nCoward, and a Traytor.\nAbundance of these Mysteries are Hieroglyphically describ'd in this\nample Collection, and without doubt our great Collection of Annals,\nand Historical Observations, particularly the Learned Mr. Walker,\nwould make great Improvements there.\nBut to come nearer home, There, to my great Amasement, I found\nseveral new Tracts out of our own Language, which I could hardly have\nimagin'd it possible should have reacht so far.\nAs first, sundry Transactions of our Royal Society about Winds, and a\nvaluable Desertation of Dr. B.....'s about Wind in the Brain.\nA Discourse of Poisons, by the Learned Dr. M..... with Lunar Notes\nupon it, wherein it appears that Dr. C....d had more Poison in his\nTongue, than all the Adders the Moon have in their Teeth.\nNec Non, or Lawyers Latin turn'd into Lunar Burlesque. The\nHyerogliphick was the Queens Mony tost in a Blanket, Dedicated to the\nAttorney General, and five false Latin Councellors.\nMandamus, as it was Acted at Abb...ton Assizes, by Mr. So....r\nGeneral, where the Qu..n had her own So...r against her for a bad\nCause, and never a Counsel for her in a good one.\nLunar Reflections, being a List of about 2000 ridiculous Errors in\nHistory, palpable Falsities, and scandalous Omissions in Mr.\nCollier's Geographical Dictionary; with a subsequent Enquiry by way\nof Appendix, into which are his own, and which he has ignorantly\ndeduc'd from ancient Authors.\nAssassination and Killing of Kings, prov'd to be a Church of England\nDoctrin; humbly Dedicated to the Prince of Wales, by Mr. Collier and\nMr. Snat; wherein their Absolving Sir John Friend and Sir William\nParkins without Repentance, and while they both own'd and justify'd\nthe Fact, is Vindicated and Defended.\nLes Bagatelles, or Brom..ys Travels into Italy, a choice Book, and by\ngreat Accident preserv'd from the malitious Design of the Author, who\ndiligently Bought up the whole Impression, for fear they should be\nseen, as a thing of which this ungrateful Age was not worthy.\nKilling no Murther, being an Account of the severe Justice design'd\nto be inflicted on the barbarous Murtherers of the honest Constable\nat Bow, but unhappily prevented by my Lord N.....m being turn'd out\nof his Office.\nDe modo Belli, or an Account of the best Method of making Conquests\nand Invasion a la Mode de Port St. Mary, 3 Volumes in 80. Dedicated\nto Sir Hen. Bell...s.\nKing Charles the first prov'd a T...t. By Edward Earl of Clarendon, 3\nVol. in Fol. Dedicated to the University of Oxford.\nThe Bawdy Poets, or new and accurate Editions of Catullus,\nPropertius, and Tibullus, being the Maiden-head of the new Printing\nPress at Cambridge, Dedicated by the Editor Mr. Ann...y to the\nUniversity, and in consideration of which, and some Disorders near\nCasterton, the University thought him fit to represent them in\nAlms no Charity, or the Skeleton of Sir Humphry Mackworth's Bill for\nrelief of the Poor: Being an excellent new Contrivance to find\nEmployment for all the Poor in the Nation, viz. By setting them at\nWork, to make all the rest of the People as Poor as themselves.\nSynodicum Superlativum, being sixteen large Volumes of the vigorous\nProceedings of the English Convocation, digested into Years, one\nVolume to every Year. -- Wherein are several large Lists of the\nHeretical, Atheistical, Deistical and other pernitious Errors which\nhave been Condemn'd in that Venerable Assembly, the various Services\ndone, and weighty Matters dispatcht, for the Honour of the English\nChurch, for sixteen Years last past, with their formal Proceedings\nagainst Asgil, Coward, Toland and others, for reviving old Antiquated\nErrors in Doctrine, and Publishing them to the World as their own.\nNew Worlds in Trade, being a vast Collection out of the Journals of\nthe Proceedings of the Right Honourable the Commissioners of Trade,\nwith several Eminent Improvements in general Negoce, vast Schemes of\nBusiness, and new Discoveries of Settlements and Correspondences in\nForreign Parts, for the Honour and Advantage of the English\nMerchants, being 12 Volumes in Fol. and very scarce and valluable\nBooks.\nLegal Rebellion, or an Argument proving that all sorts of\nInsurrections of Subjects against their Princes, are lawful, and to\nbe supported whenever they suit with our Occasions, made good from\nthe Practice of France with the Hungarians, the English with the\nCamisars, the Swede with the Poles, the Emperor with the Subjects of\nNaples, and all the Princes of the World as they find occasion, a\nlarge Volume in Folio, with a Poem upon the Sacred Right of Kingly\nPower.\nIgnis Fatuus or the Occasional Bill in Minature, a Farce, as it was\nacted by his Excellency the Lord Gr...il's Servants in Carolina.\nRunning away the shortest way to Victory, being a large Dissertation,\nshewing to save the Queens Ships, is the best way to beat the French.\nThe Tookites, a Poem upon the 134.\nA new Tract upon Trade, being a Demonstration that to be always\nputting the People upon customary Mourning, and wearing Black upon\nevery State Occasion, is an excellent Encouragement to Trade, and a\nmeans to employ the Poor.\nCity Gratitude, being a Poem on the Statue erected by the Court of\nAldermen at the upper end of Cheapside, to the Immortal Memory of\nKing William.\nThere were many more Tracts to be found in this place; but these may\nsuffice for a Specimen, and to excite all Men that would encrease\ntheir Understandings in humane Mysteries, to take a Voyage to this\nenlightned Country. Where their Memories, thinking Faculties and\nPenetration, will no question be so Tackt and Consolidated, that when\nthey return, they all Write Memoirs of the Place, and communicate to\ntheir Country the Advantages they have reapt by their Voyage,\naccording to the laudable Example of their\n     Most humble Servant,\n            The Man in the Moon.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Consolidator; or, Memoirs of Sundry Transactions from the World in the Moon\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by David Starner, Deirdre Menchaca, Ted Garvin\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\nOF CAPTAIN MISSON\nFrom \"The History Of The Pyrates. Vol. II.\"\nBy Daniel Defoe\nGENERAL EDITORS\nRichard C. Boys, _University of Michigan_ Ralph Cohen, _University of\nCalifornia, Los Angeles_ Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California,\nLos Angeles_ Lawrence Clark Powell, _Clark Memorial Library_\nASSISTANT EDITOR\nW. Earl Britton, _University of Michigan_\nADVISORY EDITORS\nEmmett L. Avery, _State College of Washington_ Benjamin Boyce, _Duke\nUniversity_ Louis Bredvold, _University of Michigan_ John Butt,\n_University of Edinburgh_ James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_\nArthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_ Louis A. Landa, _Princeton\nUniversity_ Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_ Ernest C. Mossner,\n_University of Texas_ James Sutherland, _University College, London_\nH.T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_\nCORRESPONDING SECRETARY\nEdna C. Davis, _Clark Memorial Library_\nINTRODUCTION\nDefoe has been recognized as the author of _A General History of the\nRobberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates_ since 1932 when\nJohn Robert Moore suggested that the supposed author, Captain Charles\nJohnson, like Andrew Moreton, Kara Selym or Captain Roberts, was merely\nanother mask for the creator of _Robinson Crusoe_. Although most of the\nfirst volume is of minor literary importance, the second section which\nappeared in 1728 as _The History of the Pyrates_ commenced with a life\n\"Of Captain Misson and His Crew,\" one of Defoe's most remarkable and\nneglected works of fiction. In much the same manner and at the same time\nthat John Gay was satirizing Walpole's government in _The Beggar's\nOpera_, Defoe began to use his pirates as a commentary on the injustice\nand hypocrisy of contemporary English society. Among Defoe's gallery of\npirates are Captain White, who refused to rob from women and children;\nCaptain Bellamy, the proletarian revolutionist; and captain North, whose\nsense of justice and honesty was a rebuke to the corruption of\ngovernment under Walpole. But the fictional Captain Misson, the founder\nof a communist utopia, is by far the most original of these creations.\nIf we were to accept the view of nineteenth-century critics, that Defoe\nwas one of the earliest exponents of _laissez faire_, his creation of a\ncommunist utopia would seem remarkable indeed. But paradoxes fascinated\nDefoe, and his ideas can seldom be reduced to unambiguous platitudes. He\nwas especially fascinated by the comparison between businessmen and\nthieves. In 1707 he urged the government to pardon the Madagascar\npirates if they agreed to stop their crimes, pay a large sum of money\nand \"become honest Freeholders, as others of our _West-India_ Pyrates,\n_Merchants I should have said_, have done before them.\" And he noted\nthat \"it would make a sad Chasm on the _Exchange of London_, if all the\nPyrates should be taken away from the Merchants there.\"[1] Twelve years\nlater just before the start of the South Sea Bubble, Defoe attacked\nstock-jobbing as \"a Branch of Highway Robbing.\"[2]\nAlthough these attacks were directed mainly at \"trade thieves\" and\ncorruptions in business practices, they reflect Defoe's growing concern\nwith problems of poverty and wealth in England. In his preface to the\nfirst volume of the _General History of the Pyrates_, Defoe argued that\nthe unemployed seaman had no choice but to \"_steal or starve_.\" When the\npirate, Captain Bellamy, boards a merchant ship from Boston, he attacks\nthe inequality of capitalist society, the ship owners, and most of all,\nthe Captain:\n_damn ye, you are a sneaking Puppy, and so are all those who will submit\nto be governed by Laws which rich Men have made for their own Security,\nfor the cowardly Whelps have not the Courage otherwise to defend what\nthey get by their Knavery; but damn ye altogether: Damn them for a Pack\nof crafty Rascals, and you, who serve them, for a Parcel of hen-hearted\nNumskuls. They villify us, the Scoundrels do, when there is only this\nDifference, they rob the Poor under the Cover of Law, forsooth, and we\nplunder the Rich under the Protection of our own Courage._[3]\nBellamy asks the crew of the captured ship to abandon the slavery of\nworking for low wages under severe captains for the complete economic\nand political equality of life on a pirate ship.\nGovernment on Captain Misson's ship, the _Victoire_, and in the colony\nof Libertalia is partially an idealization of the pirate's creed. But\ntwo other elements which must be considered are, first, the concept of\ngovernment in the state of nature, and secondly, the ideal of the\nsocialist utopia. Most political theorists of Defoe's time postulated a\nstate of nature in which man lived either entirely free from government\nor under loose patriarchal control, from which he was removed either by\nthe invention of money, the discovery of agriculture or by some crime.\nTo a certain extent, Misson's pirate government may be regarded as a\nstage in the evolution of government. In _The Farther Adventures of\nRobinson Crusoe_, Defoe showed how government evolved from the anarchy\nof the state of nature. Both Crusoe's colony and Libertalia are\neventually forced to establish government, private property and criminal\nlaws, but Libertalia, which retains its egalitarian and democratic\ncharacter, is overthrown by its failure to account for human evil and\ncrime.\nA second influence on Captain Misson's ideology is Plutarch's\ndescription of the laws of Sparta and Rome. Even during the\n\"Anti-Communist Period\" which followed the Glorious Revolution, the\nwell-regulated state of the Lacedemonians remained the norm for Utopias.\nThe influence of Plutarch pervades the biographies in the _General\nHistory of the Pyrates._ Lycurgus' laws echo throughout Misson's attacks\non luxury and the unequal distribution of wealth, while Plutarch's study\nof Spartacus, which is mentioned in Defoe's preface, may well have been\nthe model for his hero.\nBut neither the desire to regain the purity of the state of nature nor\nan admiration for Spartan simplicity entirely explain Misson's vigorous\ndemand for freedom and his attacks on the corruption of the ruling\nclass. By refusing to fly the pirate flag, Misson dramatizes the growing\nrevolt of the poor against a useless nobility. The crew of the\n_Victoire_ are, prophetically enough, French. Their aspiration is for a\nsociety following the precepts of _la carri\u00e8re ouverte aux talents_;\ntheir revolt is that of a few courageous men unafraid to engage in the\npirate's \"war against mankind\" while those of lesser courage \"dance to\nthe Musick of their Chains.\"\nDefoe's study of Misson is different from the Utopias of More, Bacon or\nCampanella in so far as there is no discovery of an ideal civilization.\nLibertalia is a Utopia which reflects a direct reaction to the abuses of\nthe time--abuses of economic, political and religious freedom.\nAnticipating Beccaria's criticism of the death penalty by almost forty\nyears, Carracioli argues that since man's right to life is inalienable,\nno government can have the power of capital punishment.[4] Misson's\nbelief in equality is extended to include the negro slaves the\n_Victoire_ takes at sea as well as the natives of Madagascar. After\nasking the negroes to join his crew, Misson tells his men that\nthe Trading for those of our own Species, could never be agreeable to\nthe Eyes of divine Justice: That no Man had Power of the Liberty of\nanother; and while those who profess'd a more enlightened Knowledge of\nthe Deity, sold men like Beasts; they prov'd that their Religion was no\nmore than Crimace...: For his Part he hop'd, he spoke the Sentiments of\nall his brave Companions, he had not exempted his Neck from the galling\nYoak of Slavery, and asserted his own Liberty to enslave others.\nSlavery is banished from Misson's ship, and the negroes are schooled in\nthe principles of freedom.\nPerhaps the most difficult problem in discussing the principles of\nMisson and Carracioli is to attempt an explanation of why Defoe, a\nPresbyterian, should have made his protagonists into deists. Defoe\nattacks Carracioli's deistic arguments through his narrator, Captain\nJohnson, who remarks that such ideas are pernicious only to \"weak Men\nwho cannot discover their Fallacy.\" But since similar ideas appear in\nRobert _Drury's Journal_ published a year later, it may be assumed that\nthe arguments of the deists held a certain fascination for Defoe at this\ntime. Carracioli's deism also has a dramatic function in the story. That\non a voyage to Rome a young man like Misson should be converted to deism\nby a disillusioned \"lewd\" priest was in harmony with the traditional\nEnglish belief in the dangers of Italy.[5] That Carracioli should\ncombine the rebellion against organized religion with the revolt against\nmonarchy is indicative of Defoe's keen apprehension of the future course\nof history.\nConsidered as a short novel, the history \"Of Captain Misson and his\nCrew\" reveals many of the same techniques which Defoe used in his longer\nworks. To gain a sense of verisimilitude the narrator pretends to be\nworking from a manuscript, a device which Defoe also employed in his\n_Memoirs of a Cavalier_. As in _Colonel Jack_ real historical figures\nand events from the War of the Spanish Succession are woven into the\nadventures of the _Victoire_. Captain Misson and his crew sink the\nWinchelsea, an English ship lost in the West Indies at the end of\nAugust, 1707, and they barely escape from Admiral Wager's fleet which\nfought a famous battle there in 1708. Even the name of Misson's ship,\nthe _Victoire_; was undoubtedly familiar to Defoe as the vessel\ncommanded by the famous French corsair, Cornil Saus.[6] So convincing is\nDefoe that although his hero is shown meeting a real freebooter, Captain\nTew, ten years after Tew's death, Misson is still included in the\nhistories of piracy.[7]\nAlso typical of Defoe's fiction is the relationship between Captain\nMisson, the leader, and his intellectual mentor, Carracioli. Colonel\nJack and his tutor, Moll Flanders and her Governess and particularly,\nCaptain Singleton and William Walters form similar groups. Just as\nWilliam Walters, a Quaker, reminds Captain Singleton and the crew that\ntheir business is not fighting but making money, so Carracioli addresses\nlengthy speeches to the crew, converting everyone on the _Victoire_ to\ndemocracy and deism. Misson's Libertalia takes root in Madagascar, where\nSingleton wanted to establish a colony, while both Carracioli and\nWalters adapt the secular aspects of their religion to piracy. But\nwhereas Walters eventually converts Singleton into an honest Christian,\nCarracioli leads Misson into piracy.\nIn the history \"Of Captain Misson and his Crew,\" Defoe decided to pursue\nthe same method of third person narrative as in his brief biographies of\nreal pirates. The result is that he merely provides a sketch of\npolitical theories rather than a study of human beings. Of course there\nare good reasons for this. Defoe was more interested in dramatizing\nproletarian utopian ideals than in developing the inner workings of\nMisson's mind. The novelette is unified by its epic theme, not by its\nstudy of character or its episodic plot.\nAlthough Defoe toyed with radical notions throughout _The History of the\nPyrates_, he had little faith in their practicality. Libertalia must be\nunderstood as Defoe's best expression of political and social ideals\nwhich he admired but considered unworkable. The continuation of Misson's\ncareer in the section \"Of Captain Tew\" depicts the decline and fall of\nthe utopia and the hero's tragic death as a disillusioned idealist.\nThis, however, is another story, a story which suggested that private\nproperty was necessary, equality impossible and slavery a useful\nexpedient for colonization. It was a far more comforting message for the\nAugustan Age, but it could not silence the tocsins of the French\nRevolution which sound throughout the speeches of Misson and Carracioli.\nMaximillian E. Novak University of Michigan\nBibliographical Note\nThe text of \"Of Captain Misson and His Crew\" has been reproduced from\nthe Henry E. Huntington Library's first edition copy of the second\nvolume of _A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most\nNotorious Pyrates_ which appeared under the title _The History of the\nPyrates_.\nNotes to the Introduction\n[Footnote 1: Daniel Defoe, _A Review of the Affairs of France_, ed. A.\nW. Secord (New York, 1938), IV, 424a.]\n[Footnote 2: _The Anatomy of Exchange--Alley_ (London, 1719), p. 8.]\n[Footnote 3: _A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most\nNotorious Pyrates_ (London, 1728), II, 220.]\n[Footnote 4: See Cesare Beccaria, _An Essay on Crimes and Punishments_\n[Footnote 5: In the previous year Defoe had written that \"it was the\nmost dangerous thing in the World for a young Gentleman, sober and\nvirtuous, to venture into _Italy_, till he was thoroughly grounded in\nPrinciple, ... for that nothing was more ordinary, than for such either\nto be seduc'd, by the Subtlety of the Clergy, to embrace a false\nReligion, or by the Artifice of a worse Enemy, to give up all Religion,\nand sink into _Scepticism_ and _Deism_, or, perhaps, _Atheism_.\" _A New\nFamily Instructor_ (London, 1727), p. 17.]\n[Footnote 6: See Ruth Bourne, _Queen Anne's Navy in the West Indies_\n(New Haven, 1939), pp. 63, 169-172; and _Manuscripts of the House of\nLords_, New Series (London, 1921), VII, 117-119.]\n[Footnote 7: See Philip Gosse, _The History of Piracy_ (New York, 1934),\np. 194; and Patrick Pringle, _Jolly Roger_ (London, 1953), pp. 136-138.]\n_Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci_.  Hor.\nTHE HISTORY OF THE PYRATES. VOL. II.\nOF CAPTAIN MISSON.\nWe can be somewhat particular in the Life of this Gentleman, because, by\nvery great Accident, we have got into our Hands a _French_ Manuscript,\nin which he himself gives a Detail of his Actions. He was born in\n_Provence_, of an ancient Family; his Father, whose true Name he\nconceals, was Master of a plentiful Fortune; but having a great Number\nof Children, our Rover had but little Hopes of other Fortune than what\nhe could carve out for himself with his Sword. His Parents took Care to\ngive him an Education equal to his Birth. After he had passed his\nHumanity and Logick, and was a tolerable Mathematician, at the Age of\nFifteen he was sent to _Angiers_, where he was a Year learning His\nExercises. His Father, at his Return home, would have put him into the\nMusketeers; but as he was of a roving Temper, and much affected with the\nAccounts he had read in Books of Travels, he chose the Sea as a Life\nwhich abounds with more Variety, and would afford him an Opportunity to\ngratify his Curiosity, by the Change of Countries Having made this\nChoice, his Father, with Letters of Recommendation, and every Thing\nfitting for him, sent him Voluntier on board the _Victoire_, commanded\nby Monsieur _Fourbin_, his Relation. He was received on Board with all\npossible Regard by the Captain, whose Ship was at _Marseilles_, and was\norder'd to cruise soon after _Misson's_ Arrival. Nothing could be more\nagreeable to the Inclinations of our Voluntier than this Cruize, which\nmade him acquainted with the most noted Ports of the _Mediterranean_,\nand gave him a great Insight into the practical Part of Navigation. He\ngrew fond of this Life, and was resolved to be a compleat Sailor, which\nmade him always one of the first on a Yard Arm, either to Hand or Reef,\nand very inquisitive in the different Methods of working a Ship: His\nDiscourse was turn'd on no other Subject, and he would often get the\nBoatswain and Carpenter to teach him in their Cabbins the constituent\nParts of a Ship's Hull, and how to rigg her, which he generously paid\n'em for; and tho' he spent a great Part of his Time with these two\nOfficers, yet he behaved himself with such Prudence that they never\nattempted at a Familiarity, and always paid the Respect due to his\nFamily. The Ship being at _Naples_, he obtained Leave of his Captain to\ngo to _Rome_, which he had a great Desire to visit. Hence we may date\nhis Misfortunes; for, remarking the licentious Lives of the Clergy (so\ndifferent from the Regularity observ'd among the _French_\nEcclesiasticks,) the Luxury of the Papal Court, and that nothing but\nHulls of Religion was to be found in the Metropolis of the Christian\nChurch, he began to figure to himself that all Religion was no more than\na Curb upon the Minds of the Weaker, which the wiser Sort yielded to, in\nAppearance only. These Sentiments, so disadvantageous to Religion and\nhimself, were strongly riveted by accidentally becoming acquainted with\na lewd Priest, who was, at his Arrival (by meer Chance) his Confessor,\nand after that his Procurer and Companion, for he kept him Company to\nhis Death. One Day, having an Opportunity, he told _Misson_, a Religious\nwas a very good Life, where a Man had a subtle enterprising Genius, and\nsome Friends; for such a one wou'd, in a short Time, rise to such\nDignities in the Church, the Hopes of which was the Motive of all the\nwiser Sort, who voluntarily took upon them the sacerdotal Habit. That\nthe ecclesiastical State was govern'd with the same Policy as were\nsecular Principalities and Kingdoms; that what was beneficial, not what\nwas meritorious and virtuous, would be alone regarded. That there were\nno more Hopes for a Man of Piety and Learning in the Patrimony of St.\n_Peter_, than in any other Monarchy, nay, rather less; for this being\nknown to be real, that Man's rejected as a Visionary, no way fit for\nEmployment; as one whose Scruples might prove prejudicial; for its a\nMaxim, that Religion and Politicks can never set up in one House. As to\nour Statesmen, don't imagine that the Purple makes 'em less Courtiers\nthan are those of other Nations; they know and pursue the _Reggione del\nStato_ (a Term of Art which means Self-Interest) with as much Cunning\nand as little Conscience as any Secular; and are as artful where Art is\nrequired, and as barefaced and impudent when their Power is great enough\nto support 'em, in the oppressing the People, and aggrandizing their\nFamilies. What their Morals are, you may read in the Practice of their\nLives, and their Sentiments of Religion from this Saying of a certain\nCardinal, _Quantum Lucrum ex ista fabula Christi!_ which many of 'em may\nsay, tho' they are not so foolish. For my Part, I am quite tir'd of the\nFarce, and will lay hold on the first Opportunity to throw off this\nmasquerading Habit; for, by Reason of my Age, I must act an under Part\nmany Years; and before I can rise to share the Spoils of the People, I\nshall, I fear, be too old to enjoy the Sweets of Luxury; and, as I am an\nEnemy to Restraint, I am apprehensive I shall never act up to my\nCharacter, and carry thro' the Hypocrite with Art enough to rise to any\nconsiderable Post in the Church. My Parents did not consult my Genius,\nor they would have given me a Sword instead of a Pair of Beads.\n_Misson_ advised him to go with him Voluntier, and offer'd him Money to\ncloath him; the Priest leap'd at the Proposal, and a Letter coming to\n_Misson_ from his Captain, that he was going to _Leghorn_, and left to\nhim either to come to _Naples_, or go by Land; he chose the latter, and\nthe _Dominican_, whom he furnish'd with Money, clothing himself very\nCavalierly, threw off his Habit, and preceeded him two Days, staying at\n_Pisa_ for _Misson_; from whence they went together to _Leghorn_, where\nthey found the _Victoire_, and Signor _Caraccioli_, recommended by his\nFriend, was received on Board. Two Days after they weigh'd from hence,\nand after a Week's Cruize fell in with two _Sally_ Men, the one of\ntwenty, the other of twenty four Guns; the _Victoire_ had but thirty\nmounted, though she had Ports for forty. The Engagement was long and\nbloody, for the _Sally_ Man hop'd to carry the _Victoire_; and, on the\ncontrary, Captain _Fourbin_, so far from having any Thoughts of being\ntaken, he was resolutely bent to make Prize of his Enemies, or sink his\nShip. One of the _Sally_ Men was commanded by a _Spanish_ Renegade,\n(though he had only the Title of a Lieutenant) for the Captain was a\nyoung Man who knew little of Marine Affairs.\nThis Ship was called the _Lyon_; and he attempted, more than once, to\nboard the _Victoire_, but by a Shot betwixt Wind and Water, he was\nobliged to sheer off, and running his Guns, &c. on one Side, bring her\non the careen to stop his Leak; this being done with too much\nPrecipitation, she overset, and every Soul was lost: His Comrade seeing\nthis Disaster, threw out all his small sails, and endeavour'd to get\noff, but the _Victoire_ wrong'd her, and oblig'd her to renew the Fight,\nwhich she did with great Obstinacy, and made Monsieur _Fourbin_ despair\nof carrying her if he did not board; he made Preparations accordingly.\nSignior _Caraccioli_ and _Misson_ were the two first on board when the\nCommand was given; but they and their Followers were beat back by the\nDespair of the _Sally_ Men; the former received a Shot in his Thigh, and\nwas carried down to the Surgeon. The _Victoire_ laid her on board the\nsecond time, and the _Sally_ Men defended their Decks with such\nResolution, that they were cover'd with their own, and the dead Bodies\nof their Enemies. _Misson_ seeing one of 'em jump down the Main-Hatch\nwith a lighted Match, suspecting his Design, resolutely leap'd after\nhim, and reaching him with his Sabre, laid him dead the Moment he going\nto set Fire to the Powder. The _Victoire_ pouring in more Men, the\n_Mahometans_ quitted the Decks, finding Resistance vain, and fled for\nShelter to the Cook Room, Steerage and Cabbins, and some run between\nDecks. The _French_ gave 'em Quarters, and put the Prisoners on board\nthe _Victoire_, the Prize yielding nothing worth mention, except Liberty\nto about fifteen Christian Slaves; she was carried into and sold with\nthe Prisoners at _[text unreadable]_. The Turks lost a great many Men,\nthe _French_ not less than 35 in boarding, for they lost very few by the\ngreat Shot, the _Sally_ Men firing mostly at the Masts and Rigging,\nhoping by disabling to carry her. The limited Time of  their Cruize\nbeing out, the _Victoire_ returned to _Marseilles_, from whence\n_Misson_, taking his Companion, went to visit his Parents, to whom the\nCaptain sent a very advantageous Character, both of his Courage and\nConduct. He was about a Month at home when his Captain wrote to him,\nthat his Ship was ordered to _Rochelle_, from whence he was to sail for\nthe _West-Indies_ with some Merchant Men. This was very agreeable to\n_Misson_ and Signior _Caraccioli_, who immediately set out for\n_Marseilles_. This Town is well fortified, has four Parish Churches, and\nthe Number of Inhabitants is computed to be about 120,0000; the Harbour\nis esteemed the safest in the _Mediterranean_, and is the common Station\nfor the _French_ Gallies.\nLeaving this Place, they steer'd for _Rochelle_, where the _Victoire_\nwas dock'd, the Merchant Ships not being near ready. _Misson_, who did\nnot Care to pass so long a Time in Idleness, proposed to his Comrade the\ntaking a Cruize on board the _Triumph_, who was going into the _English\nChannel_; the _Italian_ readily contented to it.\nBetween the Isle of _Guernsey_ and the _Start Point_ they met with the\n_Mayflower_, Captain _Balladine_ Commanded, a Merchant Ship of 18 Guns,\nrichly laden, and coming from _Jamaica_. The Captain of the _English_\nmade a gallant resistance, and fought his Ship so long, that the\n_French_ could not carry her into Harbour, wherefore they took the\nMoney, and what was most valuable, out of her; and finding she made more\nWater than the Pumps could free, quitted, and saw her go down in less\nthan four Hours after. Monsieur _le Blanc_, the _French_ Captain,\nreceived Captain _Balladine_ very civilly, and would not suffer either\nhim or his Men to be stripp'd, saying, _None but Cowards ought be\ntreated after that Manner; that brave Men ought to treat such, though\ntheir Enemies, as Brothers; and that to use a gallant Man (who does his\nDuty) ill, speaks a Revenge which cannot proceed but from a Coward\nSoul._ He order'd that the Prisoners should leave their Chests; and when\nsome of his Men seem'd to mutter, he bid 'em remember the Grandeur of\nthe Monarch they serv'd; that they were neither Pyrates nor Privateers;\nand, as brave Men, they ought to shew their Enemies an Example they\nwould willingly have follow'd, and use their Prisoners as they wish'd to\nbe us'd.\nThey running up the _English_ Channel as high as _Beachy Head_, and, in\nreturning, fell in with three fifty Gun Ships, which gave Chace to the\n_Triumph_; but as she was an excellent Sailor, she run 'em out of Sight\nin seven Glasses, and made the best of her Way for the _Lands-End_ they\nhere cruized eight Days, then doubling Cape _Cornwall_, ran up the\n_Bristol_ Channel, near as far as _Nash Point_, and intercepted a small\nShip from _Barbadoes_, and stretching away to the Northward, gave Chase\nto a Ship they saw in the Evening, but lost her in the Night. The\n_Triumph_ stood then towards _Milford_ and spying a Sail, endeavour'd to\ncut her off the Land, but found it impossible; for she got into the\nHaven, though they came up with her very fast, and she had surely been\ntaken, had the Chase had been any thing longer.\nCaptain _Balladine_, who took the Glass, said it was the _Port Royal_, a\n_Bristol_ Ship which left _Jamaica_ in Company with him and the\n_Charles_. They now return'd to their own Coast, and sold their Prize at\n_Brest_, where, at his Desire, they left Captain _Balladine_, and\nMonsieur _le Blanc_ made him a Present of Purse with 40 _Louis's_ for\nhis Support; his Crew were also left here.\nAt the Entrance into this Harbour the _Triumph_ struck upon a Rock, but\nreceiv'd no Damage: This Entrance, called _Genlet_, is very dangerous on\nAccount of the Number of Rocks which lie on each Side under Water,\nthough the Harbour is certainly the best in _France_. The Mouth of the\nHarbour is defended by a strong Castle; the Town is well fortified, and\nhas a Citadel for its farther Defence, which is of considerable\nStrength. In 1694 the _English_ attempted a Descent, but did not find\ntheir Market, for they were beat off with the Loss of their General, and\na great many Men. From hence the _Triumph_ return'd to _Rochel_, and in\na Month after our Voluntiers, who went on board the _Victoire_, took\ntheir Departure for _Martineco_ and _Guadalupe_; they met with nothing\nin their Voyage thither worth noting.\nI shall only observe, that Signior _Caraccioli_, who was as ambitious as\nhe was irreligious, had, by this Time, made a perfect Deist of _Misson_,\nand thereby convinc'd him, that all Religion was no other than human\nPolicy, and shew'd him that the Law of _Moses_ was no more than what\nwere necessary, as well for the Preservation as the Governing of the\nPeople; for Instance, said he, the _African_ Negroes never heard of the\nInstitution of Circumcision, which is said to be the Sign of the\nCovenant made between God and this People, and yet they circumcise their\nChildren; doubtless for the same Reason the _Jews_ and other Nations do,\nwho inhabit the Southern Climes, the Prepuce consolidating the perspired\nMatter, which is of a fatal Consequence. In short, he ran through all\nthe Ceremonies of the _Jewish_, Christian and _Mahometan_ Religion, and\nconvinced him these were, as might be observed by the Absurdity of many,\nfar from being Indications of Men inspired; and that _Moses_, in his\nAccount of the Creation, was guilty of known Blunders; and the Miracles,\nboth in the New and Old Testament, inconsistent with Reason. That God\nhad given us this Blessing, to make Use of for our present and future\nHappiness, and whatever was contrary to it, notwithstanding their School\nDistinctions of _contrary_ and _above_ Reason, must be false. This\nReason teaches us, that there is a first Cause of all Things, an _Ens\nEntium_, which we call God, and our Reason will also suggest, that he\nmust be eternal, and, as the Author of every Thing perfect, he must be\ninfinitely perfect.\nIf so, he can be subject to no Passions, and neither loves nor hates; he\nmust be ever the fame, and cannot rashly do to Day what he shall repent\nto Morrow. He must be perfectly happy, consequently nothing can add to\nan eternal State of Tranquillity, and though it becomes us to adore him,\nyet can our Adorations neither augment, nor our Sins take from this\nHappiness.\nBut his Arguments on this Head are too long, and too dangerous to\ntranslate; and as they are work'd up with great Subtlety, they may be\npernicious to weak Men, who cannot discover their Fallacy; or, who\nfinding 'em agreeable to their Inclinations, and would be glad to shake\noff the Yoke of the Christian Religion, which galls and curbs their\nPassions, would not give themselves the Trouble to examine them to the\nBottom, but give into what pleases, glad of finding some Excuse to their\nConsciences. Though as his Opinion of a future State has nothing in it\nwhich impugns the Christian Religion, I shall set it down in few Words.\nThat reasoning Faculty, says he, which we perceive within us, we call\nthe Soul, but what that Soul is, is unknown to us. It may die with the\nBody, or it may survive. I am of Opinion its immortal; but to say that\nthis Opinion is the Dictate of Reason, or only the Prejudice of\nEducation, would, I own, puzzle me. If it is immortal, it must be an\nEmanation from the Divine Being, and consequently at its being separated\nfrom the Body, will return to its first Principle, if not contaminated.\nNow, my Reason tells me, if it is estranged from its first Principle,\nwhich is the Deity, all the Hells of Man's Invention can never yield\nTortures adequate to such a Banishment.\nAs he had privately held these Discourses among the Crew, he had gained\na Number of Proselytes, who look'd upon him as a new Prophet risen up to\nreform the Abuses in Religion; and a great Number being _Rochellers_,\nand, as yet, tainted with _Calvinism_, his Doctrine was the more readily\nembrac'd. When he had experienced the Effects of his religious\nArguments, he fell upon Government, and shew'd, that every Man was born\nfree, and had as much Right to what would support him, as to the Air he\nrespired. A contrary Way of arguing would be accusing the Deity with\nCruelty and Injustice, for he brought into the World no Man to pass a\nLife of Penury, and to miserably want a necessary Support; that the vast\nDifference between Man and Man, the one wallowing in Luxury, and the\nother in the most pinching Necessity, was owing only to Avarice and\nAmbition on the one Hand, and a pusillanimous Subjection on the other;\nthat at first no other than a Natural was known, a paternal Government,\nevery Father was the Head, the Prince and Monarch of his Family, and\nObedience to such was both just and easy, for a Father had a\ncompassionate Tenderness for his Children; but Ambition creeping in by\nDegrees, the stronger Family set upon and enslaved the Weaker; and this\nadditional Strength over-run a third, by every Conquest gathering Force\nto make others, and this was the first Foundation of Monarchy. Pride\nencreasing with Power, Man usurped the Prerogative of God, over his\nCreatures, that of depriving them of Life, which was a Privilege no one\nhad over his own; for as he did not come into the World by his own\nElection, he ought to stay the determined Time of his Creator: That\nindeed, Death given in War, was by the Law of Nature allowable, because\nit is for the Preservation of our own Lives; but no Crime ought to be\nthus punished, nor indeed any War undertaken, but in Defence of our\nnatural Right, which is such a Share of Earth as is necessary for our\nSupport.\nThese Topicks he often declaimed on, and very often advised with\n_Misson_ about the setting up for themselves; he was as ambitious as the\nother, and as resolute. _Caraccioli_ and _Misson_ were by this expert\nMariners, and very capable of managing a Ship: _Caraccioli_ had founded\na great many of the Men on this Subject, and found them very inclineable\nto listen to him. An Accident happen'd which gave _Caraccioli_ a fair\nOpportunity to put his Designs in Execution, and he laid Hold of it;\nthey went off _Martinico_ on a Cruize, and met with the _Winchelsea_, an\n_English_ Man of War of 40 Guns, commanded by Captain _Jones_; they made\nfor each other, and a very smart Engagement followed, the first\nBroadside killed the Captain, second Captain, and the three Lieutenants,\non Board the _Victoire_ and left only the Master, who would have struck,\nbut Misson took up the Sword, order'd _Caraccioli_ to act as Lieutenant,\nand encouraging the Men fought the Ship six Glasses, when by some\nAccident, the _Winchelsea_ blew up, and not a Man was saved but\nLieutenant _Franklin_, whom the _French_ Boats took up, and he died in\ntwo Days. None ever knew before this Manuscript fell into my Hands how\nthe _Winchelsea_ was lost; for her Head being driven ashore at\n_Antegoa_, and a great Storm having happend a few Days before her Head\nwas found, it was concluded, that she founder'd in that Storm. After\nthis Engagement, _Caraccioli_ came to Misson and saluted him Captain,\nand desired to know if he would chuse a momentary or a lasting Command,\nthat he must now determine, for at his Return to _Martinico_ it would be\ntoo late; and he might depend upon the Ship he fought and saved being\ngiven to another, and they would think him well rewarded if made a\nLieutenant, which Piece of Justice he doubted: That he had his Fortune\nin his Hands, which he might either keep or let go; if he made Choice of\nthe latter, he must never again expect she would court him to accept her\nFavours: That he ought to let before his Eyes his Circumstances, as a\nyounger Brother of a good Family, but nothing to support his Character;\nand the many Years he must serve at the Expence of his Blood before he\ncould make any Figure in the World; and consider the wide Difference\nbetween the commanding and being commanded: That he might with the Ship\nhe had under Foot, and the brave Fellows under Command, bid Defiance to\nthe Power of _Europe_, enjoy every Thing he wish'd, reign Sovereign of\nthe Southern Seas, and lawfully make War on all the World, since it\nwould deprive him of that Liberty to which he had a Right by the Laws of\nNature: That he might in Time, become as great as _Alexander_ was to the\n_Persians_; and by encreasing his Forces by his Captures, he would every\nDay strengthen the Justice of his Cause, for who has Power is always in\nthe Right. That _Harry_ the Fourth and _Harry_ the Seventh, attempted\nand succeeded in their Enterprizes on the Crown of _England_, yet their\nForces did not equal his. _Mahomet_ with a few Camel Drivers, founded\nthe _Ottoman_ Empire and _Darius_, with no more than six or seven\nCompanions got Possession on of that of _Persia_.\nIn a Word he said so much that _Misson_ resolved to follow his Advice,\nand calling up all Hands, he told them, 'That a great Number of them had\nresolved with him upon a Life of Liberty, and had done him the Honour to\ncreate him Chief: That he designed to force no Man, and be guilty of\nthat Injustice he blamed in others; therefore, if any were averse to the\nfollowing his Fortune, which he promised should be the same to all, he\ndesired they would declare themselves, and he would set them ashore,\nwhence they might return with Conveniency;' having made an End, they one\nand all cryed, _Vive le Capitain_ Misson _et son Lieutenant le Seavant_\nCaraccioli, God bless Capt. _Misson_ and his learned Lieutenant\n_Caraccioli_. _Misson_ thanked them for the Honour they conferr'd upon\nhim, and promised he would use the Power they gave for the publick Good\nonly, and hoped, as they had the Bravery to assert their Liberty, they\nwould be as unanimous in the preserving it, and stand by him in what\nshould be found expedient for the Good of all; that he was their Friend\nand Companion, and should never exert his Power, or think himself other\nthan their Comrade, but when the Necessity of Affairs should oblige him.\nThey shouted a second Time, _vive le Capitain_; he, after this, desired\nthey would chuse their subaltern Officers, and give them Power to\nconsult and conclude upon what might be for the common Interest, and\nbind themselves down by an Oath to agree to what such Officers and he\nshould determine: This they readily gave into. The School-Master they\nchose for second Lieutenant, _Jean Besace_ they nominated for third, and\nthe Boatswain, and a Quarter-Master, named _Matthieu le Tondu_, with the\nGunner, they desired might be their Representatives in Council.\nThe Choice was approved, and that every Thing might pass methodically,\nand with general Approbation, they were called into the great Cabbin,\nand the Question put, what Course they should steer? The Captain\nproposed the _Spanish_ Coast as the most probable to afford them rich\nPrizes: This was agreed upon by all. The Boatswain then asked what\nColours they should fight under, and advised Black as most terrifying;\nbut _Caraccioli_ objected, that they were no Pyrates, but Men who were\nresolved to assert that Liberty which God and Nature gave them, and own\nno Subjection to any, farther than was for the common Good of all: That\nindeed, Obedience to Governors was necessary, when they knew and acted\nup to the Duty of their Function; were vigilant Guardians of the Peoples\nRights and Liberties; saw that Justice was equally distributed; were\nBarriers against the Rich and Powerful, when they attempted to oppress\nthe Weaker; when they suffered none of the one Hand to grow immensely\nrich, either by his own or his Ancestors Encroachments; nor on the\nother, any to be wretchedly miserable, either by falling into the Hands\nof Villains, unmerciful Creditors, or other Misfortunes. While he had\nEyes impartial, and allowed nothing but Merit to distinguish between Man\nand Man; and instead of being a Burthen to the People by his luxurious\nlife, he was by his Care for, and Protection of them, a real Father, and\nin every Thing acted with the equal and impartial Justice of a Parent:\nBut when a Governor, who is the Minister of the People, thinks himself\nrais'd to this Dignity, that he may spend his Days in Pomp and Luxury,\nlooking upon his Subjects as so many Slaves, created for his Use and\nPleasure, and therefore leaves them and their Affairs to the\nimmeasurable Avarice and Tyranny of some one whom he has chosen for his\nFavourite, when nothing but Oppression, Poverty, and all the Miseries of\nLife flow from such an Administration; that he lavishes away the Lives\nand Fortunes of the People, either to gratify his Ambition, or to\nsupport the Cause of some neighbouring Prince, that he may in Return,\nstrengthen his Hands should his People exert themselves in Defence of\ntheir native Rights; or should he run into unnecessary Wars, by the rash\nand thoughtless Councils of his Favourite, and not able to make Head\nagainst the Enemy he has rashly or wantonly brought upon his Hands, and\nbuy a Peace (which is the present Case of _France_, as every one knows,\nby supporting King _James_, and afterwards proclaiming his Son) and\ndrain the Subject; should the Peoples Trade be wilfully neglected, for\nprivate Interests, and while their Ships of War lie idle in their\nHarbours, suffer their Vessels to be taken; and the Enemy not only\nintercepts all Commerce, but insults their Coasts: It speaks a generous\nand great Soul to shake off the Yoak; and if we cannot redress our\nWrongs, withdraw from sharing the Miseries which meaner Spirits submit\nto, and scorn to yield to the Tyranny. Such Men are we, and, if the\nWorld, as Experience may convince us it will, makes War upon us, the Law\nof Nature empowers us not only to be on the defensive, but also on the\noffensive Part. As we then do not proceed upon the same Ground with\nPyrates, who are Men of dissolute Lives and no Principles, let us scorn\nto take their Colours: Ours is a brave, a just, an innocent, and a noble\nCause; the Cause of Liberty. I therefore advise a white Ensign, with\nLiberty painted in the Fly, and if you like the Motto, _a Deo a\nLibertate_, for God and Liberty, as an Emblem of our Uprightness and\nResolution.\nThe Cabbin Door was left open, and the Bulk Head which was of Canvas\nrowled up, the Steerage being full of Men, who lent an attentive Ear,\nthey cried, _Liberty, Liberty; we are free Men_: Vive _the brave\nCaptain_ Misson _and the noble Lieutenant_ Caraccioli. This short\nCouncil breaking up, every Thing belonging to the deceased Captain, and\nthe other Officers, and Men lost in the Engagement, was brought upon\nDeck and over-hawled; the Money ordered to be put into a Chest, and the\nCarpenter to clap on a Padlock for, and give a Key to, every one of the\nCouncil: Misson telling them, all should be in common, and the\nparticular Avarice of no one should defraud the Publick.\nWhen the Plate Monsieur _Fourbin_ had, was going to the Chest, the Men\nunanimously cried out avast, keep that out for the Captain's Use, as a\nPresent from his Officers and Fore-mast Men. _Misson_ thanked them, the\nPlate was returned to the great Cabbin, and the Chest secured according\nto Orders: Misson then ordered his Lieutenants and other Officers to\nexamine who among the Men, were in most Want of Cloaths, and to\ndistribute those of the dead Men impartially, which was done with a\ngeneral Content and Applause of the whole Crew: All but the wounded\nbeing upon Deck. _Misson_ from the Baracade, spoke to the following\nPurpose, 'That since they had unanimously resolved to seize upon and\ndefend their Liberty, which ambitious Men had usurped, and that this\ncould not be esteemed by impartial Judges other than a just and brave\nResolution, he was under an Obligation to recommend to them a brotherly\nLove to each other; the Banishment of all private Piques and Grudges,\nand a swift Agreement and Harmony among themselves: That in throwing off\nthe Yoak of Tyranny of which the Action spoke an Abhorrence, he hoped\nnone would follow the Example of Tyrants, and turn his Back upon\nJustice; for when Equity was trodden under Foot, Misery, Confusion, and\nmutual Distrust naturally followed.'--He also advised them to remember\nthere was a Supream; the Adoration of which, Reason and Gratitude\nprompted us, and our own Interests would engage us (as it is best to be\nof the surest Side, and after-Life was allowed possible) to\nconciliate.--That he was satisfied Men who were born and bred in\nSlavery, by which their Spirits were broke, and were incapable of so\ngenerous a Way of thinking, who, ignorant of their Birth-Right, and the\nSweets of Liberty, dance to the Musick of their Chains, which was,\nindeed, the greater Part of the Inhabitants of the Globe, would brand\nthis generous Crew with the insidious Name of Pyrates, and think it\nmeritorious, to be instrumental in their Destruction.--Self-Preservation\ntherefore, and not a cruel Disposition, obliged him to declare War\nagainst all such as should refuse him the Entry of their Ports, and\nagainst all, who should not immediately surrender and give up what their\nNecessities required; but in a more particular Manner against all\n_European_ Ships and Vessels, as concluded implacable Enemies. _And I do\nnow,_ said he, _declare such War, and, at the same time, recommend to\nyou my Comrades a humane and generous Behaviour towards your Prisoners;\nwhich will appear by so much more the Effects of a noble Soul, as we are\nsatisfied we should not meet the same Treatment should our ill Fortune,\nor more properly our Disunion, or want of Courage, give us up to their\nMercy._\nAfter this, he required a Muster should be made, and there were able\nHands two Hundred, and thirty five sick and wounded; as they were\nmuster'd they were sworn. After Affairs were thus settled, they shaped\ntheir Course the _Spanish West-Indies,_ but resolved, in the Way, to\ntake a Week or ten Days Cruize in the Windward Passage from _Jamaica,_\nbecause most Merchant Men, which were good Sailors and did not slay for\nConvoy, took this as the shorter Cut for _England._\nOff St. _Christophers_ they took an _English_ Sloop becalmed, with their\nBoats; they took out of her a couple of Puncheons of Rum, and half a\ndozen Hogsheads of Sugar (she was a _New England_ Sloop, bound for\n_Boston_) and without offering the least Violence to the Men, or\nstripping them, they let her go. The Master of the Sloop was _Thomas\nButler,_ who owned, he never met with so candid an Enemy as the _French_\nMan of War, which took him the Day he left St. _Christophers;_ they met\nwith no other Booty in their Way, till they came upon their Station,\nwhen after three Days, they saw a Sloop which had the Impudence to give\nthem Chace; Captain _Misson_ asked what could be the Meaning that the\nSloop stood for them? One of the Men, who was acquainted with the\n_West-Indies,_ told him, it was a _Jamaica_ Privateer, and he should not\nwonder, if he clapp'd him aboard. I am, said he, no Stranger to their\nWay of working, and this despicable Fellow, as those who don't know a\n_Jamaica_ Privateer may think him, it is ten to one will give you some\nTrouble. It now grows towards Evening, and you'll find as soon as he has\ndiscovered your Force, he'll keep out of the Reach of your Guns till the\n12 a-Clock Watch is changed at Night, and he'll then attempt to clap you\naboard, with Hopes to carry you in the Hurry: Wherefore Captain, if you\nwill give me Leave to advise you, let every Man have his small Arms; and\nat twelve, let the Bell ring as usual; and rather more Noise than\nordinary be made, as if the one Watch was turning in, and the other out,\nin a Confusion and Hurry, and I'll engage he will venture to enter his\nMen. The Fellow's Advice was approved and resolved upon, and the Sloop\nwork'd, as he said she would, for upon coming near enough to make\ndistinctly the Force of the _Victoire_, on her throwing out _French_\nColours, she, the Sloop, clapp'd upon a Wind, the _Victoire_ gave Chace,\nbut without Hopes of gaining upon her; she went so well to Windward,\nthat she cou'd spare the Ship some Points in her Sheet, and yet wrong\nher: At Dusk of the Even, the _French_ had lost Sight of her, but about\nEleven at Night, they saw her hankering up their Windward Bow, which\nconfirmed the Sailors Opinion, that she would attempt to board them, as\nshe did at the pretended Change of the Watch; there being little or no\nWind, she lashed to the Bow-Sprit of the _Victoire_ and enter'd her Men,\nwho were very quietly taken, as they enter'd and tumbled down the\nForehatch, where they were received by others, and bound without Noise,\nnot one of the Privateers killed, few hurt, and only one _Frenchman_\nwounded. The _Victoire_ the better Part of the Sloop's Men secured, they\nboarded in their Turn, when the Privateer's suspecting some Stratagem,\nwere endeavouring to cut their Lashing and get off:\nThus the Englishman caught a Tartar. The Prisoners being all secured,\nthe Captain charged his Men not to discover, thro' a Desire of\naugmenting their Number, the Account they were upon.\nThe next Morning Monsieur _Misson_ called for the Captain of the\nPrivateer, he told him, he could not but allow him a brave Fellow, to\nventure upon a Ship of his Countenance, and for that Reason he should\nmeet Treatment which Men of his Profession seldom afforded the Prisoners\nthey made. He asked him how long he had been out, what was his Name, and\nwhat he had on Board? He answered he was but just come out, that he was\nthe first Sail he had met with, and should have thought himself\naltogether as lucky not to have spoke with him' that his Name was _Harry\nRamsey_, and what he had on Board were Rags, Powder, Ball, and some few\nhalf Anchors of Rum. _Ramsey_ was ordered into the Gun-Room, and a\nCouncil being held in the publick Manner aforesaid, the Bulk Head of the\ngreat Cabbin rowled up. On their Conclusion, the Captain of the\nPrivateer was called in again, when Captain _Misson_ told him, he would\nreturn him his Sloop, and restore him and his Men to their Liberty,\nwithout stripping or plundering of any Thing, but what Prudence obliged\nhim to, their Ammunition and Small-Arms, if he would give him his Word\nand Honour, and his Men to take an Oath, not to go out on the Privateer\nAccount in six Months after they left him: That he did not design to\ncontinue that Station above a Week longer, at the Expiration of which\nTime he would let them go.\n_Ramsey_, who had a new Sloop, did not expect this Favour, which he\nthanked him for, and promised punctually to comply with the Injunction,\nwhich his Men as readily swore to, tho' they had no Design to keep the\nOath. The Time being expired, he and his Men were put on Board their own\nSloop. At going over the Ship's Side _Ramsey_ begg'd Monsieur _Misson_\nwould allow him Powder for a salute, by way of Thanks; but he answered\nhim, the Ceremony was needless, and he expected no other Return than\nthat of keeping his Word, which indeed _Ramsey_ did. Some of his Men had\nfound it more to their Advantage to have been as religious.\nAt parting Ramsey gave the Ship three Chears, and _Misson_ had the\nComplaisance to return one, which _Ramsey_ answering with three more,\nmade the best of his Way for _Jamaica_, and at the East End of the\nIsland met with the _Diana_, who, upon Advice, turn'd back.\nThe _Victoire_ steer'd for _Carthagene_, off which Port they cruised\nsome Days, but meeting with nothing in the Seas, they made for _Porto\nBello_; in their Way they met with two _Dutch_ Traders, who had Letters\nof Mart, and were just come upon the Coast, the one had 20, the other 24\nGuns; _Misson_ engaged them, and they defended themselves with a great\nDeal of Resolution and Gallantry; and as they were mann'd a Peak, he\ndarst not venture to board either of them, for fear of being at the same\nTime boarded by the other. His Weight of Mettal gave him a great\nAdvantage over the _Dutch_, though they were two to one; besides, their\nBusiness, as they had Cargoes, was to get off, if possible, wherefore\nthey made a running Fight, though they took Care to stick close to one\nanother.\nThey maintained the Fight for above six Hours, when _Misson_, enraged at\nthis Obstinacy, and fearing, if by Accident they should bring a Mast, or\nTop-Mast, by the board, they would get from him. He was resolved to sink\nthe larger Ship of the two, and accordingly ordered his Men to bring all\ntheir Guns to bear a Midship, then running close along Side of him, to\nraise their Mettal; his Orders being punctually obey'd, he pour'd in a\nBroad Side, which open'd such a Gap in the _Dutch_ Ship, that she went\ndirectly to the Bottom, and every Man perish'd.\nHe then mann'd his Bowsprit, brought his Sprit-sail Yard fore and aft,\nand resolved to board the other, which the _Dutch_ perceiving, and\nterrified with the unhappy Fate of their Comrade, thought a farther\nResistance vain, and immediately struck. _Misson_ gave them good\nQuarters, though he was enraged at the Loss of 13 Men killed outright,\nbeside 9 wounded, of which 6 died. They found on board a great Quantity\nof Gold and Silver Lace, brocade Silks, Silk Stockings, Bails of\nBroad-Cloath, bazes of all Colours, and _Osnabrughs_.\nA Consultation being held, it was resolved Captain _Misson_ should take\nthe Name of _Fourbin_, and returning to _Carthagene_, dispose of his\nPrize, and set his Prisoners ashoar. Accordingly they ply'd to the\nEastward, and came to an Anchor between _Boca Chieca_ Fort, and the\nTown, for they did not think it expedient to enter the Harbour. The\nBarge was manned, and _Caraccioli_, with the Name of _D'Aubigny_, the\nfirst lieutenant, who was killed in the Engagement with the\n_Winchelsea_, and his Commission in his Pocket, went ashore with a\nLetter to the Governor, sign'd _Fourbin_, whose Character, for fear of\nthe worst, was exactly counterfeited. The Purport of his Letter was,\nthat having discretionary Orders to cruize for three Months, and hearing\nthe _English_ infested his Coast, he was come in search of 'em, and had\nmet two _Dutch_ Men, one of which he had sunk, the other he made Prize\nof. That his limited Time being near expired, he should be obliged to\nhis Excellency, if he would send on board him such Merchants as were\nwilling to take the Ship and Cargoe off his Hands, of which he had lent\nthe _Dutch_ Invoice. Don _Joseph de la Zerda_, the then Governor,\nreceived the Lieutenant (who sent back the Barge at landing) very\ncivilly, and agreed to take the Prisoners ashoar, and do every Thing was\nrequired of him; and ordering fresh Provisions and Sallading to be got\nready as a Present for the Captain, he sent for some Merchants who were\nvery ready to go on board, and agree for the Ship and Goods; which they\ndid, for two and fifty thousand Pieces of Eight. The next Day the\nPrisoners were set ashoar; a rich Piece of Brocade which was reserv'd,\nsent to the Governor for a Present, a Quantity of fresh Provision bought\nand brought on board, the Money paid by the Merchants, the Ship and\nGoods deliver'd, and the _Victoire_, at the Dawn of the following Day,\ngot under Sail. It may be wonder'd how such Dispatch could be made, but\nthe Reader must take Notice, these Goods were sold by the _Dutch_\nInvoice, which the Merchant of the Prize affirmed was genuine. I shall\nobserve, by the by, that the _Victoire_ was the _French_ Man of War\nwhich Admiral _Wager_ sent the _Kingston_ in search of, and being\nafterwards falsly inform'd, that she was join'd by another of seventy\nGuns; and that they cruiz'd together between the Capes, order'd the\n_Severn_ up to Windward, to assist the _Kingston_, which had like to\nhave prov'd very fatal; for these two _English_ Men of War, commanded by\nCaptain _Trevor_ and Captain _Padnor_, meeting in the Night, had\nprepared to engage, each taking the other for the Enemy. The\n_Kingston's_ Men not having a good Look-out, which must be attributed to\nthe Negligence of the Officer of the Watch, did not see the _Severn_\ntill she was just upon them; but, by good Luck, to Leeward, and plying\nup, with all the Sail she could crowd, and a clear Ship. This put the\n_Kingston_ in such Confusion, that when the _Severn_ hal'd, no answer\nwas retun'd, for none heard her. She was got under the _Kingston's_\nStern, and Captain _Padnor_ ordered to hale for the third and last Time,\nand if no answer was return'd, to give her a Broadside. The Noise\nonboard the _Kingston_ was now a little ceas'd, and Captain Trevor, who\nwas on the poop with a speaking Trumpet to hale the _Severn_, by good\nLuck heard her hale him, answering the _Kingston_, and asking the Name\nof the other ship, prevented the Damage.\nThey cruised together some time, and meeting nothing which answer'd\ntheir Information, return'd to _Jamaica_, as I shall to my Subject,\nbegging Pardon for this, as I thought, necessary Digression.\nDon _Juan de la Zevda_ told the Captain in a Letter, that the St.\n_Joseph_, a Gallion of seventy Guns, was then lying at _Port a Bello_,\nand should be glad he could keep her Company till she was off the Coast.\nThat she would sail in eight or ten Days for the _Havana_; and that, if\nhis Time would permit him, he would send an Advice-Boat. That she had on\nboard the Value of 800,000 Pieces of Eight in Silver and Bar Gold.\n_Misson_ return'd Answer, that he believ'd he should be excus'd if he\nstretched his Orders, for a few Days; and that he would cruize off the\nIsle of _Pearls_, and Cape _Gratias a Dios_, and give for Signal to the\nGallion, his spreading a white Ensign in his Fore-Top-Mast Shrouds, the\ncluing up his Fore-sail, and the firing one Gun to Windward, and two to\nLeeward, which he should answer by letting run and hoisting his\nFore-Top-Sail three times, and the firing as many Guns to Leeward. Don\n_Joseph_, extreamly pleased with this Complaisance, sent a Boat express\nto advise the St. _Joseph_, but she was already sailed two Days,\ncontrary to the Governor of _Carthagene's_ Expectation, and, this Advice\nCaptain _Misson_ had from the Boat, which returning with an Answer, saw\nthe _Victoire_ in the Offin, and spoke to her. It was then resolved to\nfollow the _St. Joseph_, and accordingly they steer'd for the _Havanna_,\nbut by what Accident they did not overtake her is unknown.\nI forgot to tell my Reader, on Board the _Dutch_ Ship were fourteen\n_French_ Hugonots, whom _Misson_ thought fit to detain, when they were\nat Sea. _Misson_ called 'em up, and proposed to 'em their taking on;\ntelling them at the same Time, he left it to their Choice, for he would\nhave no forc'd Men; and that if they all, or any of them, disapproved\nthe Proposal, he would either give 'em the first Vessel he met that was\nfit for 'em, or set 'em ashoar on some inhabited Coast; and therefore\nbid 'em take two Days for Consideration before they returned an Answer;\nand, to encourage 'em, he called all Hands up, and declar'd, that if any\nMan repented him of the Course of Life he had chosen, his just Dividend\nshould be counted to him, and he would set him on Shoar, either near the\n_Havanna_, or some other convenient Place; but not one accepted the\nOffer, and the fourteen Prisoners unanimously resolved to join in with\n'em; to which Resolution, no doubt, the Hopes of a good Booty from the\n_St. Joseph_, and this Offer of Liberty greatly contributed.\nAt the Entrance of the Gulph they spied and came with a large Merchant\nShip bound for _London_ from _Jamaica_; she had 20 Guns, but no more\nthan 32 Hands, that its not to be wonder'd at she made no Resistance,\nbesides, she was deep laden with Sugars. Monsieur _Misson_ took out of\nher what Ammunition she had, about four thousand Pieces of Eight, some\nPuncheons of Rum, and ten Hogsheads of Sugar; and, without doing her any\nfurther Damage, let her proceed her Voyage. What he valued most in this\nPrize was the Men he got, for she was carrying to _Europe_ twelve\n_French_ Prisoners, two of which were necessary Hands, being a Carpenter\nand his Mate. They were of _Bourdeaux_, from whence they came with the\n_Pomechatraine_, which was taken by the _Maremaid_ off _Petit Guavers_,\nafter an obstinate Resistance, in which they lost forty Men; but they\nwere of Opinion the _Maremaid_ could not have taken 'em, having but four\nGuns less than she had, which was made amends for, by their having about\nthirty Hands. On the contrary, had not the _Guernsey_ come up, they\nthought of boarding and carrying the _Maremaid_. These Men very\nwillingly came into Captain _Misson's_ Measures.\nThese Men, who had been stripp'd to the Skin, begg'd Leave to make\nReprisals, but the Captain would not suffer them, though he told the\nMaster of the Prize, as he protected him and his Men, he thought it\nreasonable these _French_ should be cloathed: Upon this the Master\ncontributed of his own, and every Man bringing up his Chest, thought\nthemselves very well off in sharing with them one half.\nThough _Misson's_ Ship pass'd for a _French_ Man of War, yet his\nGenerosity in letting the Prize go, gave the _English_ Grounds to\nsuspect the Truth, neither the Ship nor Cargoe being of Use to such as\nwere upon the grand Account.\nWhen they had lost all Hopes of the St. _Joseph_, they coasted along the\nNorth-Side of _Cuba_, and the _Victoire_ growing now foul, they ran into\na Landlock'd Bay on the East North-East Point, where they hove her down\nby Boats and Guns, though they could not pretend to heave her Keel out;\nhowever, they scraped and tallowed as far as they could go; they, for\nthis Reason, many of them repented they had let the last Prize go, by\nwhich they might have careened.\nWhen they had righted the Ship, and put every Thing on Board, they\nconsulted upon the Course they should steer. Upon this the Council\ndivided. The Captain and _Caraccioli_ were for stretching over to the\n_African_, and the others for the _New-England_ Coast, alledging, that\nthe Ship had a foul Bottom, and was not fit for the Voyage; and that if\nthey met with contrary Winds, and bad Weather, their Stock of Provision\nmight fall short; and that as they were not far from the _English_\nSettlement of _Carolina_, they might either on that or the Coast of\n_Virginia, Maryland, Pensylvania, New-York_, or _New-England_, intercept\nships which traded to the Islands with Provisions, and by that Means\nprovide themselves with Bread, Flower, and other Necessaries. An Account\nof the Provisions were taken, and finding they had Provisions for four\nMonths. Captain _Misson_ called all Hands upon Deck, and told them, as\nthe Council differed in the Course they should steer, he thought it\nreasonable to have it put to the Vote of the whole Company. That for his\nPart, he was for going to the Coast of _Guiney_, where they might\nreasonably expect to meet with valuable Prizes; but should they fail in\ntheir Expectation one Way, they would be sure of having it answered\nanother; for they could then throw themselves in that of the\n_East-India_ Ships, and he need not tell them, that the outward bound\ndreined _Europe_ of what Money they drew from America. He then gave the\nSentiments of those who were against him, and their Reasons, and begg'd\nthat every one would give his Opinion and Vote according as he thought\nmost conducive to the Good of all. That he should be far from taking it\nill if they should reject what he had proposed, since he had no private\nViews to serve. The Majority of Votes fell on the Captain's Side, and\nthey accordingly shaped their Course for the Coast of Guiney, in which\nVoyage nothing remarkable happened. On their Arrival on the Gold-Coast,\nthey fell in with the _Nieuwstadt_ of _Amsterdam_, a Ship of 18 Guns,\ncommanded by Capt. _Blacs_, who made a running Fight of five Glasses:\nThis Ship they kept with them, putting on Board 40 Hands, and bringing\nall the Prisoners on Board the _Victoire_, they were Forty three in\nNumber, they left _Amsterdam_ with Fifty six, seven were killed in the\nEngagement, and they had lost six by Sickness and Accidents, one falling\noverboard, and one being taken by a Shark going overboard in a Calm.\nThe _Nieuwstadt_ had some Gold-Dust on Board, to the Value of about 2000\nl. Sterling, and a few Slaves to the Number of Seventeen, for she had\nbut begun to Trade; the Slaves were a strengthening of their Hands, for\nthe Captain order'd them to be cloathed out of Dutch Mariners Chests,\nand told his Men, 'That the Trading for those of our own Species, cou'd\nnever be agreeable to the Eyes of divine Justice: That no Man had Power\nor the Liberty of another; and while those who profess'd a more\nenlightened Knowledge of the Deity, sold Men like Beasts; they prov'd\nthat their Religion was no more than Grimace, and that they differ'd\nfrom the _Barbarians_ in Name only, since their Practice was in nothing\nmore humane: For his Part, and he hop'd, he spoke the Sentiments of all\nhis brave Companions, he had not exempted his Neck from the galling Yoak\nof Slavery, and asserted his own Liberty, to enslave others. That\nhowever, these Men were distinguish'd from the _Europeans_ by their\nColour, Customs, or religious Rites, they were the Work of the same\nomnipotent Being, and endued with equal Reason: Wherefore, he desired\nthey might be treated like Freemen (for he wou'd banish even the Name of\nSlavery from among them)' and divided into Messes among them, to the End\nthey might the sooner learn their Language, be sensible of the\nObligation they had to them, and more capable and zealous to defend that\nLiberty they owed to their Justice and Humanity.\nThis Speech of _Misson_'s was received with general Applause, and the\nShip rang with _vive le Capitain_ Misson. Long live Capt. _Misson_.--The\nNegroes were divided among the _French_, one to a Mess, who, by their\nGesticulations, shew'd they were gratefully sensible of their being\ndelivered from their Chains. Their Ship growing very foul, and going\nheavily through the Water, they run into the River of _Lagoa_, where\nthey hove her down, taking out such Planks as had suffer'd most by the\nWorms, and substituting new in their Room.\nAfter this they careened the Prize, and so put out to Sea, steering to\nthe Southward, and keeping along the Coast, but met with Nothing. All\nthis while, the greatest Decorum and Regularity was observed on Board\nthe _Victoire_; but the _Dutch_ Prisoners Example began to lead 'em into\nSwearing and Drunkenness, which the Captain remarking, thought it was\nbest to nip these Vices in the Bud; and calling both the _French_ and\n_Dutch_ upon Deck, he address'd himself to the former, desiring their\nCaptain, who spoke French excellently well, to interpret what he said to\nthose who did not understand him. He told them, 'before he had the\nMisfortune of having them on Board, his Ears were never grated with\nhearing the Name of the great Creator prophaned, tho' he, to his Sorrow,\nhad often since heard his own Men guilty of that Sin, which administer'd\nneither Profit nor Pleasure, and might draw upon them a severe\nPunishment: That if they had a just Idea of that great Being, they wou'd\nnever mention him, but they wou'd immediately reflect on his Purity and\ntheir own Vileness. That we so easily took Impression from our Company,\nthat the _Spanish_ Proverb says, _let a Hermit and a Thief live\ntogether, the Thief wou'd become Hermit, or the Hermit Thief_: That he\nsaw this verified in his Ship, for he cou'd attribute the Oaths and\nCurses he had heard among his brave Companions, to nothing but the\nodious Example of the _Dutch_: That this was not the only Vice they had\nintroduced, for before they were on Board, his Men were Men, but he\nfound by their beastly Pattern they were degenerated into Brutes, by\ndrowning that only Faculty, which distinguishes between Man and Beast,\n_Reason_. That as he had the Honour to command them, he could not see\nthem run into these odious Vices without, a sincere Concern, as he had a\npaternal Affection for them; and he should reproach himself as\nneglectful of the common Good, if he did not admonish them; and as by\nthe Post which they had honour'd him, he was obliged to have a watchful\nEye over their general Interest; he was obliged to tell them his\nSentiments were, that the _Dutch_ allured them to a dissolute Way of\nLife, that they might take some Advantage over them: Wherefore, as his\nbrave Companions, he was assured, wou'd be guided by Reason, he gave the\n_Dutch_ Notice, that the first whom he catch'd either with an Oath in\nhis Mouth or Liquor in his Head, should be brought to the Geers, whipped\nand pickled, for an Example to the rest of his Nation: As to his\nFriends, his Companions, his Children, those gallant, those generous,\nnoble, and heroick Souls he had the Honour to command, he entreated them\nto allow a small Time for Reflection, and to consider how little\nPleasure sure, and how much Danger, might flow from imitating the Vices\nof their Enemies; and that they would among themselves, make a Law for\nthe Suppression of what would otherwise estrange them from the Source of\nLife, and consequently leave them destitute of his Protection.'\nIt is not to be imagined what Efficacy this Speech had on both Nations:\nThe _Dutch_ grew continent in Fear of Punishment, and the _French_ in\nFear of being reproach'd by their good Captain, for they never mentioned\nhim without this Epithet. Upon the Coast of _Angola_, they met with a\nsecond Dutch Ship, the Cargo of which consisted of Silk and Woolen\nStuffs, Cloath, Lace, Wine, Brandy, Oyl, Spice, and hard Ware; the Prize\ngave Chase and engaged her, but upon the coming up of the _Victoire_ she\nstruck. This Ship opportunely came in their Way, and gave full Employ to\nthe Taylors, who were on Board, for the whole Crew began to be out at\nElbows: They plundered her of what was of Use to their own Ship, and\nthen sunk her.\nThe Captain having about ninety Prisoners on Board, proposed the giving\nthem the Prize, with what was necessary for their Voyage, and sending\nthem away; which being agreed to, they shifted her Ammunition on Board\nthe _Victoire_, and giving them Provision to carry them to the\nSettlements the Dutch have on the Coast, _Misson_ called them up, told\nthem what was his Design, and ask'd if any of them was willing to share\nhis Fortune: Eleven _Dutch_ came into him, two of which were\nSail-makers, one an Armourer, and one a Carpenter, necessary Hands; the\nrest he let go, not a little surprised at the Regularity, Tranquillity,\nand Humanity, which they found among these new fashioned Pyrates.\nThey had now run the Length of _Soldinia_ Bay about ten Leagues to the\nNorthward of _Table_ Bay. As here is good Water, safe Riding, plenty of\nFish and fresh Provision, to be got of the Natives for the Merchandize\nthey had on Board, it was resolved to stay here some little Time for\nRefreshments. When they had the Bay open, they spied a tall Ship, which\ninstantly got under sail, and hove out _English_ Colours. The _Victoire_\nmade a clear Ship, and hove out her _French_ Ensign, and a smart\nEngagement began. _The English_ was a new Ship built for 40 Guns, though\nshe had but 32 mounted, and 90 Hands. _Misson_ gave Orders for boarding,\nand his Number of fresh Men he constantly poured in, after an obstinate\nDispute obliged the _English_ to fly the Decks, and leave the _French_\nMasters of their Ship, who promised, and gave them, good Quarters, and\nstripp'd not a Man.\nThey found on Board the Prize some Bales of _English_ Broad-Cloath, and\nabout 60000 l. in _English_ Crown Pieces, and _Spanish_ Pieces of Eight.\nThe _English_ Captain was killed in the Engagement, and 14 of his Men:\nThe _French_ lost 12, which was no small Mortification, but did not,\nhowever provoke them to use their Prisoners harshly. Captain _Misson_\nwas sorry for the Death of the Commander, whom he buried on the Shoar,\nand one of his Men being a Stone-Cutter, he raised a Stone over his\nGrave with these Words, _Icy gist un brave Anglois_, Here lies a gallant\n_English_ Man; when he was buried he made a tripple Discharge of 50\nsmall Arms, and fired Minute Guns.\nThe _English_, knowing whose Hands they were fallen into, charm'd with\n_Misson_'s Humanity, 30 of them, in 3 Days Space, desired to take on\nwith him. He accepted 'em, but at the same Time gave 'em to understand,\nthat in taking on with him they were not to expect they should be\nindulged in a dissolute and immoral Life. He now divided his Company\nbetween the two Ships, and made _Caraccioli_ Captain of the Prize,\ngiving him Officers chosen by the publick Suffrage. The 17 Negroes began\nto understand a little _French_, and to be useful Hands, and in less\nthan a Month all the _English_ Prisoners came over to him, except their\nOfficers.\nHe had two Ships well mann'd with resolute Fellows; they now doubled the\nCape, and made the South End of _Madagascar_, and one of the _English_\nMen telling Captain _Misson_, that the _European_ Ships bound for\n_Surat_ commonly touch'd at the Island of _Johanna_, he sent for Captain\n_Caracciola_ on Board, and it was agreed to cruise off that Island. They\naccordingly sailed on the West-Side of _Madagascar_ and off the Bay _de\nDiego_. About half Seas over between that Bay and the Island of\n_Johanna_, they came up with an _English East-India_ Man, which made\nSignals of Distress as soon as she spy'd _Misson_ and his Prize; they\nfound her sinking by an unexpected Leak, and took all her Men on Board,\nthough they could get little out of her before she went down. The\n_English_, who were thus miraculously saved from perishing, desired to\nbe set on Shoar at _Johanna_, where they hop'd to meet with either a\n_Dutch_ or _English_ Ship in a little Time, and the mean while they were\nsure of Relief.\nThey arrived at Johanna, and were kindly received by the Queen-Regent\nand her Brother, on account of the _English_ on the one Hand, and of\ntheir  Strength on the other, which the Queen's Brother, who had the\nAdministration of Affairs, was not able to make Head against, and hoped\nthey might assist him against the King of _Mohila_, who threaten'd him\nwith a Visit.\nThis is an Island which is contiguous, in a manner, to _Johanna_, and\nlies about N. W. and by N. from it. _Caraccioli_ told _Misson_ he might\nmake his Advantage in widening the Breach between these two little\nMonarchies, and, by offering his Assistance to that of _Johanna_, in a\nmanner rule both, For these would count him as their Protector, and\nthose come to any Terms to buy his Friendship, by which Means he would\nhold the Ballance of Power between them. He followed this Advice, and\noffered his Friendship and Assistance to the Queen, who very readily\nembraced it.\nI must advise the Reader, that many of this Island speak _English_, and\nthat the _English_ Men who were of _Misson's_ Crew, and his\nInterpreters, told them, their Captain, though not an _Englishman_, was\ntheir Friend and Ally, and a Friend and Brother to the _Johanna_ Men,\nfor they esteem the _English_ beyond all other Nations.\nThey were supplied by the Queen with all Necessaries of Life, and\n_Misson_ married her Sister, as _Caraccioli_ did the Daughter of her\nBrother, whose Armory, which consisted before of no more than two rusty\nFire-Locks, and three Pistols, he furnish'd with thirty Fuzils, as many\nPair of Pistols, and gave him two Barrels of Powder, and four of Ball.\nSeveral of his Men took Wives, and some requited their Share of the\nPrizes, which was justly given them, they designing to settle in this\nIsland, but the Number of these did not exceed ten, which Loss was\nrepaired by thirty of the Crew (they had saved from perishing) coming in\nto him.\nWhile they past their Time in all manner of Diversions the Place would\nafford them, as hunting, feasting, and visiting the Island, the King of\n_Mohila_ made a Descent, and alarm'd the whole Country. _Misson_ advised\nthe Queen's Brother not to give him any Impediment, but let him get into\nthe Heart of the Island, and he would take Care to intercept their\nReturn; but the Prince answered, should he follow his Advice the Enemy\nwould do him and the Subjects an irreparable Damage, in destroying the\nCocoa Walks, and for that Reason he must endeavour to stop his Progress.\nUpon this Answer he asked the _English_ who were not under his Command,\nif they were willing to join him in repelling the Enemies of their\ncommon Host, and one and all consenting, he gave them Arms, and mixed\nthem with his own Men, and about the same Number of _Johannians_, under\nthe Command of _Caraccioli_ and the Queen's Brother, and arming out all\nhis Boats, he went himself to the Westward of the Island, where they\nmade their Descent. The Party which went by Land, fell in with, and beat\nthe _Mohilians_ with great Ease, who were in the greatest Consternation,\nto find their Retreat cut off by _Misson_'s Boats. The _Johannians_,\nwhom they had often molested, were so enraged, that they gave Quarter to\nnone, and out of 300 who made the Descent, if _Misson_ and _Caraccioli_\nhad not interposed, not a Soul had escaped; 113 were taken Prisoners by\nhis Men, and carried on Board his Ships. These he sent fate to _Mohila_,\nwith a Message to the King, to desire he would make Peace with his\nFriend and Ally the King of _Johanna_; but that Prince, little affected\nwith the Service done him in the Preservation of his Subjects, sent him\nWord he took Laws from none, and knew when to make War and Peace without\nhis Advice, which he neither asked nor wanted. _Misson_, irritated by\nthis rude Answer, resolved to transfer the War into his own Country, and\naccordingly set sail for _Mohila_, with about 100 _Johanna_ Men. The\nShoar, on Sight of the Ships, was filled with Men to hinder a Descent if\nintended, but the great Guns soon dispersed this Rabble, and under their\nCover he landed the _Johannians_, and an equal Number of _French_ and\n_English_. They were met by about 700 _Mohilians_, who pretended to stop\ntheir Passage, but their Darts and Arrows were of little avail against\n_Misson_'s Fuzils; the first Discharge made a great Slaughter, and about\n20 Shells which were thrown among them, put them to a confus'd Flight.\nThe Party of _Europeans_ and _Johannians_ then marched to their\nMetropolis, without Resistance, which they reduced to Ashes, and the\n_Johannians_ cut down all the Cocoa Walks that they could for the Time,\nfor towards Evening they returned to their Ships, and stood off to Sea.\nAt their Return to _Johanna_ the Queen made a Festival, and magnified\nthe Bravery and Service of her Guests, Friends, and Allies. This Feast\nlasted four Days, at the Expiration of which Time the Queen's Brother\nproposed to Captain _Misson_ the making another Descent, in which he\nwould go in Person, and did not doubt subjecting the _Mohilians_; but\nthis was not the Design of _Misson_, who had Thoughts of fixing a\nRetreat on the North West Side of _Madagascar_, and look'd upon the\nFeuds between these two Islands advantageous to his Views, and therefore\nno way his Interest to suffer the one to overcome the other; for while\nthe Variance was kept up, and their Forces pretty much upon a Level, it\nwas evident their Interest would make both Sides caress him; he\ntherefore answer'd, that they ought to deliberate on the Consequences,\nfor they might be deceived in their Hopes, and find the Conquest less\neasy than they imagined. That the King of _Mohilia_ would be more upon\nhis Guard, and not only intrench himself, but gall them with frequent\nAmbuscades, by which they must inevitably lose a Number of Men; and, if\nthey were forced to retire with Loss, raise the Courage of the\n_Mohilians_, and make them irreconcilable Enemies to the _Johannians_,\nand intirely deprive him of the Advantages with which he might now make\na Peace, having twice defeated them: That he could not be always with\nthem, and at his leaving _Johanna_ he might expect the King of _Mohilia_\nwould endeavour to take a bloody Revenge for the late Damages. The Queen\ngave intirely into _Misson's_ Sentiments.\nWhile this was in Agitation four _Mohilians_ arrived as Ambassadors to\npropose a Peace. They finding the _Johannians_ upon high Terms, one of\nthem spoke to this Purpose; O ye Johannians, _do not conclude from your\nlate Success, that Fortune will be always favourable; she will not\nalways give you the Protection of the_ Europeans, _and without their\nHelp its possible you might now sue for a Peace, which you seem averse\nto. Remember the Sun rises, comes to its Meridian Height, and stays not\nthere, but declines in a Moment. Let this admonish you to reflect on the\nconstant Revolution of all sublunary Affairs, and the greater is your\nGlory, the nearer you are to your Declension. We are taught by every\nThing we see, that there is no Stability in the World, but Nature is in\ncontinual Movement. The Sea, which o'er flows the Sands has its Bounds\nset, which it cannot pass, which the Moment it has reached, without\nabiding, returns back to the Bottom of the Deep. Every Herb, every Shrub\nand Tree, and even our own Bodies, teach us this Lesson, that nothing is\ndurable, or can be counted upon. Time passes away insensibly, one Sun\nfollows another, and brings its Changes with it. To-Day's Globe of Light\nsees you strengthened by these_ Europeans _elate with victory, and we,\nwho have been used to conquer you, come to ask a Peace. To Morrow's Sun\nmay see you deprived of your present Succours, and the_ Johannians\n_petitioning us; as therefore we cannot say what to Morrow may bring\nforth, it would be unwise on uncertain Hopes to forego a certain\nAdvantage, as surely Peace ought to be esteem'd by every wise Man_.\nHaving said this, the Ambassadors withdrew, and were treated by the\nQueen's Orders. After the Council had concluded, they were again call'd\nupon, and the Queen told them, that by the Advice of her good Friends,\nthe _Europeans_, and those of her Council, she agreed to make a Peace,\nwhich she wish'd might banish all Memory of former Injuries That they\nmust own the War was begun by them, and that she was far from being the\nAgressor; she only defended her self in her own Kingdom, which they had\noften invaded, though, till within few Days, she had never molested\ntheir Coasts. If then they really desired to live amicably with her,\nthey must resolve to send two of the King's Children, and ten of the\nfirst Nobility, as Hostages, that they might, when they pleased, return,\nfor that was the only Terms on which she would desist prosecuting the\nAdvantages she now had, with the utmost Vigour.\nThe Ambassadors returned with this Answer, and, about ten Days after,\nthe two Ships appearing upon their Coasts, they sent off to give Notice,\nthat their King comply'd with the Terms proposed, would send the\nHostages, and desired a Cessation of all Hostility, and, at the same\nTime, invited the Commanders on Shoar. The _Johanna_ Men on Board\ndisswaded their accepting the Invitation; but _Misson_ and _Caraccioli_,\nfearing nothing, went, but arm'd their Boat's Crew. They were received\nby the King with Demonstrations of Friendship, and they dined with him\nunder a Tamerane Tree; but when they parted from him, and were returning\nto their Boats, they were inclosed by, at least, 100 of the _Mohilians_,\nwho set upon them with the utmost Fury, and, in the first Flight of\nArrows, wounded both the Captains, and killed four of their Boat's Crew\nof eight, who were with them; they, in return, discharged their Pistols\nwith some Execution, and fell in with their Cutlasses; but all their\nBravery would have stood them in little Stead, had not the Report of\ntheir Pistols alarm'd and brought the rest of their Friends to their\nAssistance, who took their Fuzils, and coming up while they were\nengaged, discharged a Volley on the Back of the Assailants, which laid\ntwelve of them dead on the Spot. The Ships hearing this Fire, sent\nimmediately the Yawls and Long-Boats well mann'd. Though the Islanders\nwere a little damp'd in their Courage by this Fire of the Boats Crew,\nyet they did not give over the Fight, and one of them desperately threw\nhimself upon _Caraccioli_, and gave him a deep Wound in his Side, with a\nlong Knife, but he paid for the Rashness of the Attempt with his Life,\none of the Crew cleaving his Skull. The Yawls and Long-Boats now\narrived, and being guided by the Noise, reinforced their Companions, put\nthe Traytors to Flight, and brought off their dead and wounded. The\n_Europeans_ lost by this Treachery seven slain outright, and eight\nwounded, six of which recovered.\nThe Crew were resolved to revenge the Blood of their Officers and\nComrades the next Day, and were accordingly on the Point of Landing,\nwhen two Canoes came off with two Men bound, the pretended Authors of\nthis Treason, without the King's Knowledge, who had sent 'em that they\nmight receive the Punishment due to their Villany. The _Johanna_ Men on\nBoard were call'd for Interpreters, who having given this Account,\nadded, that the King only sacrificed these Men, but that they should not\nbelieve him, for he certainly had given Orders for assassinating the\n_Europeans_; and the better Way was to kill all the _Mohilians_ that\ncame in the Canoes as well as the two Prisoners; go back to _Johanna_,\ntake more of their Countrymen, and give no Peace to Traytors; but\n_Misson_ was for no such violent Measures, he was averse to every Thing\nthat bore the Face of Cruelty and thought a bloody Revenge, if Necessity\ndid not enforce it, spoke a groveling and timid Soul; he, therefore,\nsent those of the Canoes back, and bid them tell their King, if before\nthe Evening he sent the Hostages agreed upon, he should give Credit to\nhis Excuse, but if he did not, he should believe him the Author of the\nlate vile Attempt on his Life.\nThe Canoes went off but returned not with an Answer, wherefore, he bid\nthe _Johanna_ Men tell the two Prisoners that they should be set on\nShore the next Morning, and order'd them to acquaint their King, he was\nno Executioner to put those to Death whom he had condemn'd, but that he\nshould find, he knew how to revenge himself of his Treason. The\nPrisoners being unbound, threw themselves at his Feet, and begg'd that\nhe would not send them ashore, for they should be surely put to Death,\nfor the Crime they had committed, was, the dissuading the barbarous\nAction of which they were accused as Authors.\nNext Day the two Ships landed 200 Men, under the Cover of their Canon;\nbut that Precaution of bringing their Ships close to the Shore they\nfound needless; not a soul appearing, they march'd two Leagues up the\nCountry, when they saw a Body of Men appear behind some Shrubs;\n_Caraccioli's_ Lieutenant, who commanded the right Wing, with fifty Men\nmade up to them, but found he had got among Pit Falls artificially\ncover'd, several of his Men falling into them, which made him halt, and\nnot pursue those _Mohilians_ who made a feint Retreat to ensnare him,\nthinking it dangerous to proceed farther; and seeing no Enemy would face\nthem, they retired the same Way they came, and getting into their Boats,\nwent on Board the Ships, resolving to return with a strong\nReinforcement, and make Descents at one and the same Time in different\nParts of the Island. They ask'd the two Prisoners how the Country lay,\nand what the Soil was on the North Side the Island; and they answer'd it\nwas morass, and the most dangerous Part to attempt, it being a Place\nwhere they shelter on any imminent Danger.\nThe Ships return'd to _Johanna_, where the greatest Tenderness and Care\nwas shown for the Recovery and Cure of the two Captains and of their\nMen; they lay six Weeks before they were able to walk the Decks, for\nneither of them would quit his Ship. Their _Johanna_ Wives expressed a\nConcern they did not think them capable of, nay, a Wife of one of the\nwounded Men who died, stood some Time looking upon the Corpse as\nmotionless as a Statue, then embracing it, without shedding a Tear,\ndesired she might take it ashore to wash and bury it; and at the same\nTime, by an Interpreter, and with a little Mixture of _European_\nLanguage, she had, begg'd her late Husband's Friends would take their\nLeave of him the next Day.\nAccordingly a Number went ashore, and carried with them the Dividend,\nwhich fell to his Share, which the Captain order'd to be given his\nWidow; when she saw the Money, she smil'd, and ask'd if all, all that\nwas for her? Being answered in the affirmative, and what Good will all\nthat shining Dirt do me, if I could with it purchase the Life of my\nHusband, and call him back from the Grave, I would accept it with\nPleasure, but as it is not sufficient to allure him back to this World,\nI have no Use for it; do with it what you please. Then she desired they\nwould go with her and perform the last Ceremonies to her Husband's dead\nBody, after their Country Fashion, least he should be displeased, that\nshe could not stay with them, to be a Witness, because she was in haste\nto go and be married again. She startled the _Europeans_ who heard this\nlatter Part of her Speech so dissonant from the Beginning; however, they\nfollowed her, and she led them into a Plantane Walk, where they found a\ngreat many _Johanna_ Men and Women, sitting under the Shade of\nPlantanes, round the Corpse, which lay (as they all sate) on the Ground,\ncovered with Flowers. She embraced them round, and then the _Europeans_,\none by one, and after these Ceremonies, she poured out a Number of\nbitter Imprecations against the _Mohila_ Men, whose Treachery had\ndarken'd her Husband's Eyes, and made him insensible of her Caresses,\nwho was her first Love, to whom she had given her Heart, with her\nVirginity. She then proceeded in his Praises, calling him the Joy of\nInfants, the Love of Virgins, the Delight of the old, and the Wonder of\nthe young, adding, he was strong and beautiful as the Cedar, brave as\nthe Bull, tender as the Kid, and loving as the Ground Turtle; having\nfinished this Oration, not unlike those of the _Romans_, which the\nnearest Relation of the deceas'd used to pronounce from the Rostrum, she\nlaid her down by the Side of her Husband, embracing him, and sitting up\nagain, gave herself a deep Wound under the left Breast with a Bayonet,\nand fell dead on her Husband's Corpse.\nThe _Europeans_ were astonished at the Tenderness and Resolution of the\nGirl, for she was not, by what Her Mien spoke her, past seventeen; and\nthey now admired, as much as they had secretly detested her, for saying\nshe was in haste to be married again, the Meaning of which they did not\nunderstand.\nAfter the Husband and Wife were buried, the Crew return'd on Board, and\ngave an Account of what had pass'd; the Captains Wives (for _Misson_ and\nhis were on Board the _Bijoux_, the Name they had given their Prize from\nher Make and Gilding) seem'd not in the least surprized, and\n_Caraccioli's_ Lady only said, she must be of noble Descent, for none\nbut the Families of the Nobility had the Privilege allowed them of\nfollowing their Husbands on pain, if they transgressed, of being thrown\ninto the Sea, to be eat by Fish; and they knew, that their Souls could\nnot rest as long as any of the Fish, who fed upon them, lived. _Misson_\nasked, if they intended to have done the same Thing had they died? We\nshould not, answer'd his Wife, have disgraced our Families; nor is our\nTenderness for our Husbands inferior to hers whom you seem to admire.\nAfter their Recovery, _Misson_ proposes a Cruize, on the Coast of\n_Zangueber_, which being agreed to, he and _Caraccioli_ took Leave of\nthe Queen and her Brother, and would have left their Wives on the\nIsland, but they could by no Means be induced to the Separation; it was\nin vain to urge the Shortness of the Time they were to Cruize; they\nanswer'd it was farther than _Mohila_ they intended to go, and if they\nwere miserable in that short Absence, they could never support a longer;\nand if they would not allow them to keep them Company the Voyage, they\nmust not expect to see them at their Return, if they intended one.\nIn a Word they were obliged to yield to them, but told them, if the\nWives of their Men should insist as strongly on following their Example,\ntheir Tenderness, would be their Ruin, and make them a Prey to their\nEnemies; they answer'd the Queen should prevent that, by ordering no\nWoman should go on board, and if any were in the Ships, they should\nreturn on Shore: This Order was accordingly made, and they set Sail for\nthe River of _Mozembique_. In about ten Days Cruize after they had left\n_Johanna_, and about 15 Leagues to the Eastward of this River, they fell\nin with a stout _Portuguese_ Ship of 60 Guns, which engaged them from\nBreak of Day till Two in the Afternoon, when the Captain being killed,\nand a great Number of Men lost, she struck: This proved a very rich\nPrize, for she had the Value of 250000 _L_. Sterling on Board, in\nGold-Dust. The two Women never quitted the Decks all the Time of the\nEngagement, neither gave they the least Mark of Fear, except for their\nHusbands: This Engagement cost them thirty Men, and _Caraccioli_ lost\nhis right Leg; the Slaughter fell mostly on the _English_, for of the\nabove Number, twenty were of that Nation: The _Portuguese_ lost double\nthe Number. _Caraccioli's_ Wound made them resolve to make the best of\ntheir Way for _Johanna_ where the greatest Care was taken of their\nwounded, not one of whom died, tho' their Number amounted to Twenty\nseven.\n_Caraccioli_ kept his Bed two Months, but _Misson_ seeing him in a fair\nway of Recovery, took what Hands could be spar'd from the _Bijoux_,\nleaving her sufficient for Defence, and went out, having mounted ten of\nthe _Portuguese_ Guns, for he had hitherto carried but thirty, though he\nhad Ports for forty. He stretched over to _Madagascar_, and coasted\nalong this Island to the Northward, as far as the most northerly Point,\nwhen turning back, he enter'd a Bay to the northward of _Diego Suares_.\nHe run ten Leagues up this Bay, and on the larboard Side found it\nafforded a large, and safe, Harbour, with plenty of fresh Water. He came\nhere to an Anchor, went ashore and examined into the Nature of the Soil,\nwhich he found rich, the Air wholesome, and the Country level. He told\nhis Men, that this was an excellent Place for an Asylum, and that he\ndetermined here to fortify and raise a small Town, and make Docks for\nShipping, that they might have some Place to call their own; and a\nReceptacle, when Age or Wounds had render'd them incapable of Hardship,\nwhere they might enjoy the Fruits of their Labour, and go to their\nGraves in Peace. That he would not, however, set about this, till he had\nthe Approbation of the whole Company; and were he sure they would all\napprove this Design, which he hoped, it being evidently for the general\nGood, he should not think it adviseable to begin any Works, lest the\nNatives should, in his Absence, destroy them; but however, as they had\nnothing upon their Hands, if they were of his Opinion, they might begin\nto fall and square Timber, ready for the raising a wooden Fort, when\nthey return'd with their Companions.\nThe Captain's Motion was universally applauded, and in ten Days they\nfell'd and rough hew'd a hundred and fifty large Trees, without any\nInterruption from, or seeing any of, the Inhabitants. They fell'd their\nTimber at the Waters Edge, so that they had not the Trouble of hawling\nthem any way, which would have employ'd a great deal more Time: They\nreturned again, and acquainted their Companions with what they had seen\nand done, and with the Captain's Resolution, which they one and all came\ninto.\nCaptain _Misson_ then told the Queen, as he had been serviceable to her\nin her War with the Island of _Mohila_, and might continue to be of\nfarther Use, he did not question her lending him Assistance in the\nsettling himself on the Coast of _Madagascar_, and to that end, furnish\nhim with 300 Men, to help in his Buildings; the Queen answered, she\ncould do nothing without Consent of Council, and that she would assemble\nher Nobility, and did not question their agreeing to any Thing he could\nreasonably define, for they were sensible of the Obligations the\n_Johanians_ had to him. The Council was accordingly called, and\n_Misson_'s Demand being told, one of the eldest said, he did not think\nit expedient to comply with it, nor safe to refuse; that they should in\nagreeing to give him that Assistance, help to raise a Power, which might\nprove formidable to themselves, by the being so near a Neighbour; and\nthese Men who had lately protected, might, when they found it for their\nInterest, enslave them. On the other hand, if they did not comply, they\nhad the Power to do them great Damage. That they were to make choice of\nthe least of two possible Evils, for he could prognosticate no Good to\n_Johanna_, by their settling near it. Another answered, that many of\nthem had _Johanna_ Wives, that it was not likely they would make Enemies\nof the _Johanna_ Men at first settling, because their Friendship might\nbe of Use to them; and from their Children there was nothing to be\napprehended in the next Generation, for they would be half their own\nBlood; that in the mean while, if they comply'd with the Request, they\nmight be sure of an Ally, and Protector, against the King of _Mohila_;\nwherefore, he was for agreeing to the Demand.\nAfter a long Debate, in which every Inconvenience, and Advantage, was\nmaturely considered, it was agreed to send with him the Number of Men he\nrequired, on Condition he should send them back in four Moons, make an\nAlliance with them, and War against _Mohila_; this being agreed to, they\nstaid till _Caraccioli_ was thoroughly recovered, then putting the\n_Johannians_ on board the _Portuguese_ Ship with 40 _French_ and\n_English_ and 15 _Portuguese_ to work her, and setting Sail, they\narrived at the Place where _Misson_ designed his Settlement, which he\ncalled _Libertalia_, and gave the Name of _Liberi_ to his People,\ndesiring in that might be drown'd the distingush'd Names of _French_,\n_English_, _Dutch_, _Africans_, &c.\nThe first Thing they sat about was, the raising a Fort on each Side the\nHarbour, which they made of an octogon Figure, and having finished and\nmounted them with 40 Guns taken out of the _Portuguese_, they raised a\nBattery on an Angle of ten Guns, and began to raise Houses and Magazines\nunder the Protection of their Forts and Ships; the _Portuguese_ was\nunrigg'd, and all her Sails and Cordage carefully laid up. While they\nwere very busily employed in the raising a Town, a Party which had often\nhunted and rambled four or five Leagues off their Settlement, resolved\nto venture farther into the Country. They made themselves some Huts, at\nabout 4 Leagues distance from their Companions, and travell'd East South\nEast, about 5 Leagues farther into the Country, when they came up with a\nBlack, who was arm'd with a Bow, Arrows, and a Javelin; they with a\nfriendly Appearance engaged the Fellow to lay by his Fear and go with\nthem. They carried him to their Companions, and there entertained him\nthree Days with a great Deal of Humanity, and then returned with him\nnear the Place they found him, made him a Present of a Piece of scarlet\nBaze, and an Ax; he appeared overjoy'd at the Present, and left them\nwith seeming Satisfaction.\nThe Hunters imagined that there might be some Village not far off, and\nobserving that he look'd at the Sun, and then took his Way direct South,\nthey travell'd on the same Point of the Compass, and from the Top of a\nHill they spied a pretty large Village, and went down to it; the Men\ncame out with their Arms, such as before described, Bows, Arrows, and\nJavelins, but upon two only of the Whites advancing, with Presents of\nAxes, and Baze in their Hands, they sent only four to meet them. The\nMisfortune was, that they could not understand one another, but by their\npointing to the Sun, and holding up one Finger, and making one of them\ngo forward, and return again with shewing their Circumcision, and\npointing up to Heaven with one Finger, they apprehended, they gave them\nto understand, there was but one God, who had sent one Prophet, and\nconcluded from thence, and their Circumcision they were _Mahometans_;\nthe Presents were carried to their Chief, and he seem'd to receive them\nkindly, and by Signs invited the Whites into their Village; but they,\nremembring the late Treachery of the _Mohilians_, made Signs for\nVictuals to be brought them where they were.\n_More of the History of these Adventurers in another Place._", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Of Captain Mission\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by\nGoogle Books (Robarts - University of Toronto)\nTranscriber's Notes:\n1. Page scan source: The Web Archive\nhttps://archive.org/details/historyandremark00defouoft\n(Robarts - University of Toronto)\nThe History and Remarkable Life\nof the truly honourable\nColonel Jacque\nCommonly call\u2019d\nColonel Jack\nby Daniel Defoe\nWith the author\u2019s preface, and an introduction by\nG. H. Maynadier, Ph. D.\nDEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH, HARVARD UNIVERSITY\nNational Library Company\nNew York\nEdition De Luxe\nLIMITED TO ONE THOUSAND SETS\nCOPYRIGHT, 1904, BY\nTHE UNIVERSITY PRESS\nJacque summoned\nJacque is summoned before his master.\nCONTENTS Introduction Author\u2019s Preface The Life of Colonel Jacque The\nTrue-born Englishman The Shortest Way with the Dissenters\nILLUSTRATIONS\nCOLONEL JACQUE\nPART I\nJacque is summoned before his master. _ Frontispiece_\nEscaping with the purloined horse.\nPART II\nColonel Jacque and the lady\nColonel Jacque\u2019s arrival is announced\nINTRODUCTION\nSmollett bears witness to the popularity of Defoe\u2019s _Colonel Jacque_.\nIn the sixty-second chapter of _Roderick Random_, the hero of that\nnovel is profoundly impressed by the genius of the disappointed poet,\nMelopoyn, the story of whose tragedy is Smollett\u2019s acrimonious version\nof the fate of his own first literary effort, _The Regicide_. Melopoyn\ntells Random that while waiting in vain for his tragedy to be produced,\nhe wrote some pastorals which were rejected by one bookseller after\nanother. A first said merely that the pastorals would not serve; a\nsecond advised Melopoyn to offer in their place something \u201csatirical or\nluscious;\u201d and a third asked if he \u201chad got never a piece of secret\nhistory, thrown into a series of letters, or a volume of adventures,\nsuch as those of Robinson Crusoe and Colonel Jack, or a collection of\nconundrums, wherewith to entertain the plantations?\u201d Smollett probably\nwrote this passage some time in the year 1747, for _Roderick Random_\nwas published in January, 1748. It was twenty-four years\nearlier\u2014December twentieth, 1722\u2014that _Colonel Jacque_ had been\npublished, or, to give it the name set forth by its flaunting\ntitle-page:\u2014_The History and Remarkable Life of the truly Honourable\nColonel Jacque, vulgarly called Col. Jack, who was born a Gentleman;\nput \u2019Prentice to a Pickpocket; was six and twenty years a Thief, and\nthen kidnapped to Virginia; came back a Merchant; was five times\nmarried to four Whores; went into the Wars, behaved bravely, got\nPreferment, was made Colonel of a Regiment; came over, and fled with\nthe Chevalier, is still abroad Completing a Life of Wonders, and\nresolves to die a General_. Surely a book for servants, readers of our\ntime will be apt to think on looking at this title-page; and yet\n_Colonel Jacque_ is found to-day in many a gentleman\u2019s library. This is\nno reason, though, why it should still retain considerable popularity\nin Smollett\u2019s day. In less time after their appearance, some books\nwhich live forever in literature have been forgotten by the great mass\nof readers. What was it now that kept _Colonel Jacque_ popular a\nquarter of a century after its publication?\nIt can hardly be the story which maintained its popularity, for the\ninorganic tale is of the simplest kind. Jacque, like Captain Singleton,\nand Moll Flanders in her childhood, had almost no knowledge of his\nparents. He was brought up by a woman who was well paid for taking the\nchild off his parents\u2019 hands\u2014a woman who, though seemingly an abandoned\ncharacter, nevertheless showed the boy kindness. When he was about ten,\nshe died. Then followed the chequered career sketched in the title\ngiven above. Jacque, trained by a comrade as a pickpocket, became in\ntime a thief on a larger scale, but not a thief quite destitute of good\nfeeling. After he had robbed a poor woman of Kentish Town of 22_s_.\n6\u00bd_d_., his conscience was never easy till he paid her back the money,\na year later; and through all his criminal life, he remembered that his\nfoster-mother had told him he came of gentle blood, and accordingly\nshould remember always to be a gentleman. The hope of being a gentleman\nwas before him, even when he was kidnapped to Virginia and sold into\nbondage. There he became such a favourite of his master that in time he\nwas able to set up as a planter on his own account. From Virginia he\nreturned to England, and thence, after the unhappy matrimonial ventures\nmentioned in the title, he went back to Virginia, where at last he\nmarried the wife whom he had previously divorced.\nNor could the character of the hero have had much to do in keeping\n_Colonel Jacque_ popular. In spite of his matrimonial achievements, in\nspite of the affection which he rouses in his American employer and his\nslaves both, Colonel Jacque is without any attraction which a reader\ncan perceive to-day. Like most of Defoe\u2019s characters, he is without\nfine feeling; he is always looking out for the main chance. His chief\ninterest is commerce; he is a typical \u201cAnglo-Saxon\u201d trader. There are\nthousands and thousands of such clever, prosy, cold-blooded\nbusiness-men in the United States to-day, and in the British colonies,\nand in the United Kingdom. Though Defoe\u2019s biographers are divided as to\nwhether or not he shared their mercantile cleverness, there is no doubt\nthat Defoe was heartily in sympathy with such men; and his interest in\nrecounting Colonel Jacque\u2019s commercial ventures shows him to have been\nwhat I have already called him\u2014the Yankee trader of the Queen Anne\nwriters.\nIt was the story of Colonel Jacque\u2019s successful trading, no doubt,\nwhich had a large part in sustaining the popularity of his _History_.\nBut even more important in this respect, was that which we have seen to\nbe the vital force in all Defoe\u2019s fiction\u2014circumstantial vividness.\nThis is less striking in the later pages than in the earlier. The\nvividness ceases to a large extent after Jacque goes to America, for\nDefoe did not know America so well as he knew his England. Yet even\nwhen the scene shifts to the further side of the ocean, Defoe makes no\nblunders; nothing impossible occurs; his geography is correct. In\n_Colonel Jacque_, perhaps more than anywhere else, we see that interest\nof Defoe\u2019s in distant British possessions which made him, as I have\nsaid, one of the \u201cimperialists\u201d of his time. Even so, what vividness\nthere is in the American scenes is too largely commercial. Not many\npeople, other than small traders or would-be traders, could ever have\nread with interest such a paragraph as the following:\u2014\n\u201cWith the sloop I sent letters to my wife and to my chief manager with\norders to load her back, as I there directed, viz., that she should\nhave two hundred barrels of flour, fifty barrels of pease; and, to\nanswer my other views, I ordered a hundred bales to be made up of all\nsorts of European goods, such as not my own warehouses only would\nsupply, but such as they could be supplied with in other warehouses\nwhere I knew they had credit for anything.\u201d\nVery different are the earlier pages which deal with Jacque\u2019s\nadventures as a poor criminal boy in England. Here Defoe was on ground\nthat he knew thoroughly. Sir Leslie Stephen[1] has observed that Defoe\npassed beyond the bounds of probability when he made his hero, an\nalmost elderly man writing his memoirs in Mexico, remember the details\nof his boyish thieving with marvellous exactness. Barring this\nimprobability\u2014one by the way which you are not aware of while you read\nthe scenes in question, for you do not know how long a time will elapse\nbefore the hero begins to record his experiences\u2014the verisimilitude of\nthe first part of _Colonel Jacque_ could not be surpassed. Moreover, in\npicturing the life of the poor, neglected boy, Defoe is unusually\nsympathetic. And so in the early pages of _Colonel Jacque_, more than\nanywhere else, is found the power of the story, the secret of its\npopularity when Smollett was writing _Roderick Random_, and the secret\nof its appeal to readers to-day. Lamb was hardly overstating the case\nwhen he declared, \u201cThe beginning of \u2018Colonel Jack\u2019 is the most\naffecting, natural picture of a young thief that was ever drawn.\u201d[2]\nAt the end of the second volume of _Colonel Jacque_ will be found two\nof Defoe\u2019s earlier political satires:\u2014_The True-Born Englishman_ and\n_The Shortest Way with the Dissenters_. The former, the most celebrated\npiece of verse which Defoe wrote, was published in January, 1701. The\ncircumstances which led to its publication are set forth by the author\nhimself in his autobiographical sketch of 1715, _An Appeal to Honour\nand Justice_.\nOn the first of August, 1700, according to his statement, there\nappeared \u201ca vile abhorred pamphlet, in very ill verse, written by one\nMr. Tutchin, and called _The Foreigners_; in which the author . . .\nfell personally upon the King himself, and then upon the Dutch Nation.\nAnd after having reproached his Majesty with crimes that his worst\nenemy could not think of without horror, he sums up all in the odious\nname of _Foreigner_. This filled me with a kind of rage against the\nbook, and gave birth to a trifle which I never could hope should have\nmet with so general an acceptance as it did; I mean _The True-Born\nEnglishman_.\u201d\nThe reason for Tutchin\u2019s pamphlet was that William III., never loved by\nthe English, became less and less popular after the death of Queen\nMary. A Dutchman, he was supposed to have the interests of Holland more\nat heart than those of England. This supposition was strengthened by\nthe fact that he took no Englishmen into his confidence as he did his\nold and trusted Dutch friends. These, naturally, shared his\nunpopularity, especially the Duke of Schomberg and the King\u2019s favourite\nminister, William Bentinck, created Earl of Portland, both of whom are\nmentioned by Defoe in his _True-Born Englishman_.\nDefoe, in this reply to Tutchin\u2019s pamphlet, sought to prove that the\nking and his foreign friends had as good right to the esteem of the\nEnglish as any patriots in the history of the country. In the first\npart of the \u201cpoem,\u201d as Defoe called his satire, he showed that William,\nwith his Dutch blood, was as much entitled to the name of Englishman as\nany of his subjects, who came of mixed British, Pictish, Roman, Saxon,\nDanish, and Norman blood. In short, Defoe made the English out a hybrid\nrace, and with excellent good sense showed that their national vigour\nwas due largely to their being so. Much of what he said might well be\nsaid to-day of the people of the United States, as for instance, the\nfollowing from Defoe\u2019s explanatory preface:\u2014\n\u201cThe multitudes of foreign nations who have taken sanctuary here, have\nbeen the greatest additions to the wealth and strength of the nation;\nthe essential whereof is the number of its inhabitants. Nor would this\nnation ever have arrived to the degree of wealth and glory it now\nboasts of, if the addition of foreign nations . . . had not been\nhelpful to it. This is so plain, that he who is ignorant of it is too\ndull to be talked with.\u201d\nThe other side to Defoe\u2019s picture (and there was another side then as\nnow) is shown in verses which, with a few changes, would likewise be\napplicable to the United States to-day. Defoe is trying to prove that\neven with lapse of years the English race remains hybrid.\n\u201cAnd lest by length of time it be pretended\nThe climate may this modern breed have mended,\nWise Providence, to keep us where we are,\nMixes us daily with exceeding care.\nWe have been Europe\u2019s sink, the jakes where she\nVoids all her offal outcast progeny.\nFrom our fifth Henry\u2019s time, the strolling bands\nOf banish\u2019d fugitives from neighb\u2019ring lands\nHave here a certain sanctuary found:\nTh\u2019 eternal refuge of the vagabond,\nWhere, in but half a common age of time,\nBorr\u2019wing new blood and manners from the clime,\nProudly they learn all mankind to contemn,\nAnd all their race are true-born Englishmen.\u201d\nIn the second part of the satire, Defoe tries to describe the nature of\nthe English, their pride, and their ingratitude to their benefactors.\nAmong the stanzas in which he hits off the faults of his countrymen,\nthe following, more true than grammatical, is among the most forcible:\u2014\n\u201cSurly to strangers, froward to their friend;\nSubmit to love with a reluctant mind;\nResolved to be ungrateful and unkind.\nIf by necessity reduced to ask,\nThe giver has the difficultest task;\nFor what\u2019s bestow\u2019d they awkwardly receive,\nAnd always take less freely than they give.\nThe obligation is their highest grief;\nAnd never love, where they accept relief.\nSo sullen in their sorrows, that \u2019tis known,\nThey\u2019ll rather die than their afflictions own:\nAnd if relieved, it is too often true,\nThat they\u2019ll abuse their benefactors too;\nFor in distress their haughty stomach\u2019s such,\nThey hate to see themselves obliged too much,\nSeldom contented, often in the wrong;\nHard to be pleased at all, and never long.\u201d\nDefoe\u2019s satire was a success. Written, as it is, in rough verse, at\ntimes little better than doggerel, it is yet always vigorous and\ninteresting. To-day, after a lapse of two hundred years, no verse from\nDefoe\u2019s pen is so readable. That it was effective in accomplishing the\npurpose for which it was composed, is proved by the fact that the\npeople, taking the satire good-naturedly, experienced a revulsion of\nfeeling towards the king and his Dutch friends. It was natural that the\npiece should bring Defoe the increased regard of the king, whose favour\nhe had already to some extent enjoyed. \u201cThis poem was the occasion of\nmy being known to His Majesty,\u201d Defoe wrote in his _Appeal to Honour\nand Justice_; and \u201cI was afterwards received by him.\u201d\nConcluding the second volume of _Colonel Jacque_ will be found the\nironical _Shortest Way with the Dissenters_, which placed Defoe in the\npillory and in prison. It was written in 1702, the first year of Anne\u2019s\nreign, when the strong Tory influence in the government seemed likely\nto bring back the persecution of Nonconformists which had ceased in the\ntime of William. From the early summer, when Dr. Sacheverell preached\nat Oxford a most inflammatory sermon against the Dissenters, High\nChurch feeling against them grew stronger and stronger. Finally Defoe\ndecided that the best service he could render them was to show the\nviews of the High Church party in all their extreme savageness. The\nresult was the pamphlet, _The Shortest Way with the Dissenters; or,\nProposals for the Establishment of the Church_, which appeared on the\nfirst of December, 1702.\nDefoe was so successful in imagining High Tory sentiments in his\npamphlet, that it was received with indignation by the Dissenters\nthemselves and with acclaim by the extreme Churchmen. \u201cI join with\u201d the\nauthor \u201cin all he says,\u201d wrote one of them,[3] to a friend who had sent\nhim the pamphlet, \u201cand have such a value for the book, that, next to\nthe Holy Bible and the sacred Comments, I take it for the most valuable\npiece I have.\u201d Naturally there was a storm when the truth was\ndiscovered and the High Tories found out that what they had praised was\nironical. They were immediately shamed into declaring the pamphlet a\ndangerous libel, intended to stir up the Dissenters to civil war.\nDefoe\u2019s bookseller and printer were accordingly arrested, and a reward\nwas offered for his apprehension. He gave himself up, was tried, and\nsentenced to pay a fine of two hundred marks, to stand three times in\nthe pillory, and to go to prison for the Queen\u2019s pleasure. How Defoe\nconverted his punishment in the pillory into a triumph, and how\nprofitably he employed his time during his imprisonment, have been\nalready told in the introduction to _Robinson Crusoe_.\nG. H. Maynadier.\nAUTHOR\u2019S PREFACE\nSir,\u2014It is so customary to write prefaces to all books of this kind, to\nintroduce them with the more advantage into the world, that I cannot\nomit it, though on that account \u2019tis thought this work needs a preface\nless than any that ever went before it. The pleasant and delightful\npart speaks for itself; the useful and instructive is so large, and\ncapable of so many improvements, that it would employ a book large as\nitself to make improvements suitable to the vast variety of the\nsubject.\nHere\u2019s room for just and copious observations on the blessings and\nadvantages of a sober and well-governed education, and the ruin of so\nmany thousands of youths of all kinds in this nation for want of it;\nalso, how much public schools and charities might be improved to\nprevent the destruction of so, many unhappy children as in this town\nare every year bred up for the gallows.\nThe miserable condition of unhappy children, many of whose natural\ntempers are docible, and would lead them to learn the best things\nrather than the worst, is truly deplorable, and is abundantly seen in\nthe history of this man\u2019s childhood; where, though circumstances formed\nhim by necessity to be a thief, a strange rectitude of principles\nremained with him, and made him early abhor the worst part of his\ntrade, and at last wholly leave it off. If he had come into the world\nwith the advantage of education, and been well instructed how to\nimprove the generous principles he had in him, what a man might he not\nhave been!\nThe various turns of his fortunes in the world make a delightful field\nfor the reader to wander in; a garden where he may gather wholesome and\nmedicinal fruits, none noxious or poisonous; where he will see virtue\nand the ways of wisdom everywhere applauded, honoured, encouraged,\nrewarded; vice and all kinds of wickedness attended with misery, many\nkinds of infelicities; and at last, sin and shame going together, the\npersons meeting with reproof and reproach, and the crimes with\nabhorrence.\nEvery wicked reader will here be encouraged to a change, and it will\nappear that the best and only good end of an impious, misspent life is\nrepentance; that in this there is comfort, peace, and oftentimes hope,\nand that the penitent shall be returned like the prodigal, _and his\nlatter end be better than his beginning_.\nWhile these things, and such as these, are the ends and designs of the\nwhole book, I think I need not say one word more as an apology for any\npart of the rest\u2014no, nor for the whole. If discouraging everything that\nis evil, and encouraging everything that is virtuous and good\u2014I say, if\nthese appear to be the whole scope and design of the publishing this\nstory, no objection can lie against it; neither is it of the least\nmoment to inquire whether the Colonel hath told his own story true or\nnot; if he has made it a History or a Parable, it will be equally\nuseful, and capable of doing good; and in that it recommends itself\nwithout any introduction.\u2014Your humble servant,\nThe Editor.\nTHE LIFE OF\nCOLONEL JACQUE\nSeeing my life has been such a chequer-work of nature, and that I am\nable now to look back upon it from a safer distance than is ordinarily\nthe fate of the clan to which I once belonged, I think my history may\nfind a place in the world as well as some who I see are every day read\nwith pleasure, though they have in them nothing so diverting or\ninstructing as I believe mine will appear to be.\nMy original may be as high as anybody\u2019s for aught I know, for my mother\nkept very good company; but that part belongs to her story more than to\nmine. All I know of it is by oral tradition, thus: My nurse told me my\nmother was a gentlewoman, that my father was a man of quality, and she\n(my nurse) had a good piece of money given her to take me off his\nhands, and deliver him and my mother from the importunities that\nusually attend the misfortune of having a child to keep that should not\nbe seen or heard of.\nMy father, it seems, gave my nurse something more than was agreed for,\nat my mother\u2019s request, upon her solemn promise that she would use me\nwell and let me be put to school; and charged her, that if I lived to\ncome to any bigness, capable to understand the meaning of it, she\nshould always take care to bid me remember that I was a gentleman; and\nthis, he said, was all the education he would desire of her for me; for\nhe did not doubt, he said, but that, some time or other, the very hint\nwould inspire me with thoughts suitable to my birth, and that I would\ncertainly act like a gentleman, if I believed myself to be so.\nBut my disasters were not directed to end as soon as they began. It is\nvery seldom that the unfortunate are so but for a day; as the great\nrise by degrees of greatness to the pitch of glory in which they shine,\nso the miserable sink to the depth of their misery by a continued\nseries of disasters, and are long in the tortures and agonies of their\ndistressed circumstances, before a turn of fortune, if ever such a\nthing happens to them, gives them a prospect of deliverance.\nMy nurse was as honest to the engagement she had entered into as could\nbe expected from one of her employment, and particularly as honest as\nher circumstances would give her leave to be; for she bred me up very\ncarefully with her own son, and with another son of shame like me, whom\nshe had taken upon the same terms.\nMy name was John, as she told me, but neither she or I knew anything of\na surname that belonged to me; so I was left to call myself Mr.\nAnything, what I pleased, as fortune and better circumstances should\ngive occasion.\nIt happened that her own son (for she had a little boy of her own,\nabout one year older than I) was called John too; and about two years\nafter she took another son of shame, as I called it above, to keep as\nshe did me, and his name was John too.\nAs we were all Johns, we were all Jacques, and soon came to be called\nso; for at that part of the town where we had our breeding, viz., near\nGoodman\u2019s Fields, the Johns are generally called Jacque; but my nurse,\nwho may be allowed to distinguish her own son a little from the rest,\nwould have him called captain, because, forsooth, he was the eldest.\nI was provoked at having this boy called captain, and I cried, and told\nmy nurse I would be called captain; for she told me I was a gentleman,\nand I would be a captain, that I would. The good woman, to keep the\npeace, told me, ay, ay, I was a gentleman, and therefore I should be\nabove a captain, for I should be a colonel, and that was a great deal\nbetter than a captain; \u201cfor, my dear,\u201d says she, \u201cevery tarpauling, if\nhe gets but to be lieutenant of a press smack, is called captain, but\ncolonels are soldiers, and none but gentlemen are ever made colonels.\nBesides,\u201d says she, \u201cI have known colonels come to be lords and\ngenerals, though they were bastards at first, and therefore you shall\nbe called colonel.\u201d\nWell, I was hushed indeed with this for the present, but not thoroughly\npleased, till, a little while after, I heard her tell her own boy that\nI was a gentleman, and therefore he must call me colonel; at which her\nboy fell a-crying, and he would be called colonel. That part pleased me\nto the life, that he should cry to be called colonel, for then I was\nsatisfied that it was above a captain: so universally is ambition\nseated in the minds of men that not a beggar-boy but has his share of\nit.\nSo here was Colonel Jacque and Captain Jacque. As for the third boy, he\nwas only plain Jacque for some years after, till he came to preferment\nby the merit of his birth, as you shall hear in its place.\nWe were hopeful boys, all three of us, and promised very early, by many\nrepeated circumstances of our lives, that we would be all rogues; and\nyet I cannot say, if what I have heard of my nurse\u2019s character be true,\nbut the honest woman did what she could to prevent it.\nBefore I tell you much more of our story, it would be very proper to\ngive you something of our several characters, as I have gathered them\nup in my memory, as far back as I can recover things, either of myself\nor my brother Jacques, and they shall be brief and impartial.\nCaptain Jacque was the eldest of us all, by a whole year. He was a\nsquat, big, strong-made boy, and promised to be stout when grown up to\nbe a man, but not to be tall. His temper was sly, sullen, reserved,\nmalicious, revengeful; and, withal, he was brutish, bloody, and cruel\nin his disposition. He was, as to manners, a mere boor, or clown, of a\ncarman-like breed; sharp as a street-bred boy must be, but ignorant and\nunteachable from a child. He had much the nature of a bull-dog, bold\nand desperate, but not generous at all. All the schoolmistresses we\nwent to could never make him learn\u2014no, not so much as to make him know\nhis letters; and as if he was born a thief, he would steal everything\nthat came near him, even as soon almost as he could speak; and that not\nfrom his mother only, but from anybody else, and from us too that were\nhis brethren and companions. He was an original rogue, for he would do\nthe foulest and most villainous things, even by his own inclination; he\nhad no taste or sense of being honest\u2014no, not, I say, to his brother\nrogues, which is what other thieves make a point of honour of; I mean\nthat of being honest to one another.\nThe other, that is to say, the youngest of us Johns, was called Major\nJacque, by the accident following: The lady that had deposited him with\nour nurse had owned to her that it was a major of the Guards that was\nthe father of the child, but that she was obliged to conceal his name,\nand that was enough. So he was at first called John the Major, and\nafterwards the Major; and at last, when we came to rove together, Major\nJacque, according to the rest, for his name was John, as I have\nobserved already.\nMajor Jacque was a merry, facetious, pleasant boy, had a good share of\nwit, especially off-hand-wit, as they call it; was full of jests and\ngood humour, and, as I often said, had something of a gentleman in him.\nHe had a true manly courage, feared nothing, and could look death in\nthe face without any hesitation; and yet, if he had the advantage, was\nthe most generous and most compassionate creature alive. He had native\nprinciples of gallantry in him, without anything of the brutal or\nterrible part that the captain had; and, in a word, he wanted nothing\nbut honesty to have made him an excellent man. He had learned to read,\nas I had done; and as he talked very well, so he wrote good sense and\nvery handsome language, as you will see in the process of his story.\nAs for your humble servant, Colonel Jacque, he was a poor, unhappy,\ntractable dog, willing enough, and capable too, to learn anything, if\nhe had had any but the devil for his schoolmaster. He set out into the\nworld so early, that when he began to do evil, he understood nothing of\nthe wickedness of it, nor what he had to expect for it. I remember very\nwell that when I was once carried before a justice, for a theft which\nindeed I was not guilty of, and defended myself by argument, proving\nthe mistakes of my accusers, and how they contradicted themselves, the\njustice told me it was a pity I had not been better employed, for I was\ncertainly better taught; in which, however, his worship was mistaken,\nfor I had never been taught anything but to be a thief; except, as I\nsaid, to read and write, and that was all, before I was ten years old;\nbut I had a natural talent of talking, and could say as much to the\npurpose as most people that had been taught no more than I.\nI passed among my comrades for a bold, resolute boy, and one that durst\nfight anything; but I had a different opinion of myself, and therefore\nshunned fighting as much as I could, though sometimes I ventured too,\nand came off well, being very strong made and nimble withal. However, I\nmany times brought myself off with my tongue, where my hands would not\nhave been sufficient, and this as well after I was a man as while I was\na boy.\nI was wary and dexterous at my trade, and was not so often catched as\nmy fellow-rogues\u2014I mean while I was a boy, and never after I came to be\na man; no, not once for twenty-six years, being so old in the trade,\nand still unhanged, as you shall hear.\nAs for my person, while I was a dirty glass-bottle-house boy, sleeping\nin the ashes, and dealing always in the street dirt, it cannot be\nexpected but that I looked like what I was, and so we did all; that is\nto say, like a \u201cblack-your-shoes-your-honour,\u201d a beggar-boy, a\nblackguard-boy, or what you please, despicable and miserable to the\nlast degree; and yet I remember the people would say of me, \u201cThat boy\nhas a good face; if he was washed and well dressed, he would be a good,\npretty boy. Do but look; what eyes he has; what a pleasant, smiling\ncountenance! \u2019Tis a pity. I wonder what the rogue\u2019s father and mother\nwas,\u201d and the like. Then they would call me, and ask me my name, and I\nwould tell them my name was Jacque. \u201cBut what\u2019s your surname, sirrah?\u201d\nsays they. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d says I. \u201cWho is your father and mother?\u201d \u201cI\nhave none,\u201d said I. \u201cWhat, and never had you any?\u201d said they. \u201cNo,\u201d\nsays I, \u201cnot that I know of.\u201d Then they would shake their heads and\ncry, \u201cPoor boy!\u201d and \u201c\u2019Tis a pity,\u201d and the like; and so let me go. But\nI laid up all these things in my heart.\nI was almost ten years old, the captain eleven, and the major about\neight, when the good woman my nurse died. Her husband was a seaman, and\nhad been drowned a little before in the _Gloucester_ frigate, one of\nthe king\u2019s ships which was cast away going to Scotland with the Duke of\nYork in the time of King Charles II., and the honest woman dying very\npoor, the parish was obliged to bury her; when the three young Jacques\nattended her corpse, and I, the colonel (for we all passed for her own\nchildren), was chief mourner; the captain, who was the eldest son,\ngoing back very sick.\nThe good woman being dead, we, the three Jacques, were turned loose to\nthe world. As to the parish providing for us, we did not trouble\nourselves much about that; we rambled about all three together, and the\npeople in Rosemary Lane and Ratcliff, and that way, knowing us pretty\nwell, we got victuals easily enough and without much begging.\nFor my particular part, I got some reputation for a mighty civil,\nhonest boy; for if I was sent off an errand, I always did it punctually\nand carefully, and made haste again; and if I was trusted with any\nthing, I never touched it to diminish it, but made it a point of honour\nto be punctual to whatever was committed to me, though I was as arrant\na thief as any of them in all other cases.\nIn like case, some of the poorer shopkeepers would often leave me at\ntheir door, to look after their shops till they went up to dinner, or\ntill they went over the way to an alehouse, and the like, and I always\ndid it freely and cheerfully, and with the utmost honesty.\nCaptain Jacque, on the contrary, a surly, ill-looking, rough boy, had\nnot a word in his mouth that savoured either of good manners or good\nhumour; he would say \u201cYes\u201d and \u201cNo,\u201d just as he was asked a question,\nand that was all, but nobody got any thing from him that was obliging\nin the least. If he was sent off an errand he would forget half of it,\nand it may be go to play, if he met any boys, and never go at all, or\nif he went, never come back with an answer, which was such a\nregardless, disobliging way that nobody had a good word for him, and\neverybody said he had the very look of a rogue, and would come to be\nhanged. In a word, he got nothing of anybody for goodwill, but was, as\nit were, obliged to turn thief for the mere necessity of bread to eat;\nfor if he begged, he did it with so ill a tone, rather like bidding\nfolks give him victuals than entreating them, that one man, of whom he\nhad something given, and knew him, told him one day, \u201cCaptain Jacque,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cthou art but an awkward, ugly sort of a beggar, now thou art\na boy; I doubt thou wilt be fitter to ask a man for his purse than for\na penny when thou comest to be a man.\u201d\nThe major was a merry, thoughtless fellow, always cheerful; whether he\nhad any victuals or no, he never complained; and he recommended himself\nso well by his good carriage that the neighbours loved him, and he got\nvictuals enough, one where or other. Thus we all made a shift, though\nwe were so little, to keep from starving; and as for lodging, we lay in\nthe summer-time about the watch-houses and on bulkheads and shop-doors,\nwhere we were known. As for a bed, we knew nothing what belonged to it\nfor many years after my nurse died; and in winter we got into the\nash-holes and nealing-arches in the glass-house, called Dallow\u2019s\nGlass-house, in Rosemary Lane, or at another glass-house in Ratcliff\nHighway.\nIn this manner we lived for some years; and here we failed not to fall\namong a gang of naked, ragged rogues like ourselves, wicked as the\ndevil could desire to have them be at so early an age, and ripe for all\nthe other parts of mischief that suited them as they advanced in years.\nI remember that one cold winter night we were disturbed in our rest\nwith a constable and his watch crying out for one Wry-neck, who, it\nseems, had done some roguery, and required a hue-and-cry of that kind;\nand the watch were informed he was to be found among the beggar-boys\nunder the nealing-arches in the glass-house.\nThe alarm being given, we were awakened in the dead of the night with\n\u201cCome out here, ye crew of young devils; come out and show yourselves;\u201d\nso we were all produced. Some came out rubbing their eyes and\nscratching their heads, and others were dragged out; and I think there\nwas about seventeen of us in all, but Wry-neck as they called him, was\nnot among them. It seems this was a good big boy, that used to be among\nthe inhabitants of that place, and had been concerned in a robbery the\nnight before, in which his comrade, who was taken, in hopes of escaping\npunishment, had discovered him, and informed where he usually\nharboured; but he was aware, it seems, and had secured himself, at\nleast for that time. So we were allowed to return to our warm apartment\namong the coal-ashes, where I slept many a cold winter night; nay, I\nmay say, many a winter, as sound and as comfortably as ever I did\nsince, though in better lodgings.\nIn this manner of living we went on a good while, I believe two years,\nand neither did or meant any harm. We generally went all three\ntogether; for, in short, the captain, for want of address, and for\nsomething disagreeable in him, would have starved if we had not kept\nhim with us. As we were always together, we were generally known by the\nname of the three Jacques; but Colonel Jacque had always the\npreference, upon many accounts. The major, as I have said, was merry\nand pleasant, but the colonel always held talk with the better sort\u2014I\nmean the better sort of those that would converse with a beggar-boy. In\nthis way of talk I was always upon the inquiry, asking questions of\nthings done in public, as well as in private; particularly, I loved to\ntalk with seamen and soldiers about the war, and about the great\nsea-fights or battles on shore that any of them had been in; and, as I\nnever forgot anything they told me, I could soon, that is to say, in a\nfew years, give almost as good an account of the Dutch war, and of the\nfights at sea, the battles in Flanders, the taking of Maestricht, and\nthe like, as any of those that had been there; and this made those old\nsoldiers and tars love to talk with me too, and to tell me all the\nstories they could think of, and that not only of the wars then going\non, but also of the wars in Oliver\u2019s time, the death of King Charles\nI., and the like.\nBy this means, as young as I was, I was a kind of an historian; and\nthough I had read no books, and never had any books to read, yet I\ncould give a tolerable account of what had been done and of what was\nthen a-doing in the world, especially in those things that our own\npeople were concerned in. I knew the names of every ship in the navy,\nand who commanded them too, and all this before I was fourteen years\nold, or but very soon after.\nCaptain Jacque in this time fell into bad company, and went away from\nus, and it was a good while before we ever heard tale or tidings of\nhim, till about half a year, I think, or thereabouts. I understood he\nwas got among a gang of kidnappers, as they were then called, being a\nsort of wicked fellows that used to spirit people\u2019s children away; that\nis, snatch them up in the dark, and, stopping their mouths, carry them\nto such houses where they had rogues ready to receive them, and so\ncarry them on board ships bound to Virginia, and sell them.\nThis was a trade that horrid Jacque, for so I called him when we were\ngrown up, was very fit for, especially the violent part; for if a\nlittle child got into his clutches, he would stop the breath of it,\ninstead of stopping its mouth, and never troubled his head with the\nchild\u2019s being almost strangled, so he did but keep it from making a\nnoise. There was, it seems, some villainous thing done by this gang\nabout that time, whether a child was murdered among them, or a child\notherwise abused; but it seems it was a child of an eminent citizen,\nand the parent somehow or other got a scent of the thing, so that they\nrecovered their child, though in a sad condition, and almost killed. I\nwas too young, and it was too long ago, for me to remember the whole\nstory, but they were all taken up and sent to Newgate, and Captain\nJacque among the rest, though he was but young, for he was not then\nmuch above thirteen years old.\nWhat punishment was inflicted upon the rogues of that gang I cannot\ntell now, but the captain, being but a lad, was ordered to be three\ntimes soundly whipped at Bridewell, my Lord Mayor, or the Recorder,\ntelling him it was done in pity to him, to keep him from the gallows,\nnot forgetting to tell him that he had a hanging look, and bid him have\na care on that very account; so remarkable was the captain\u2019s\ncountenance, even so young, and which he heard of afterwards on many\noccasions. When he was in Bridewell I heard of his misfortune, and the\nmajor and I went to see him; for this was the first news we heard of\nwhat became of him.\nThe very day that we went he was called out to be corrected, as they\ncalled it, according to his sentence; and as it was ordered to be done\nsoundly, so indeed they were true to the sentence; for the alderman who\nwas the president of Bridewell, and whom I think they called Sir\nWilliam Turner, held preaching to him about how young he was, and what\npity it was such a youth should come to be hanged, and a great deal\nmore; how he should take warning by it, and how wicked a thing it was\nthat they should steal away poor innocent children, and the like; and\nall this while the man with a blue badge on lashed him most\nunmercifully, for he was not to leave off till Sir William knocked with\na little hammer on the table.\nThe poor captain stamped and danced, and roared out like a mad boy; and\nI must confess I was frighted almost to death; for though I could not\ncome near enough, being but a poor boy, to see how he was handled, yet\nI saw him afterwards with his back all wealed with the lashes, and in\nseveral places bloody, and thought I should have died with the sight of\nit; but I grew better acquainted with those things afterwards.\nI did what I could to comfort the poor captain when I got leave to come\nto him. But the worst was not over with him, for he was to have two\nmore such whippings before they had done with him; and indeed they\nscourged him so severely that they made him sick of the kidnapping\ntrade for a great while; but he fell in among them again, and kept\namong them as long as that trade lasted, for it ceased in a few years\nafterwards.\nThe major and I, though very young, had sensible impressions made upon\nus for some time by the severe usage of the captain, and it might be\nvery well said we were corrected as well as he, though not concerned in\nthe crime; but it was within the year that the major, a\ngood-conditioned, easy boy, was wheedled away by a couple of young\nrogues that frequented the glass-house apartments, to take a walk with\nthem, as they were pleased to call it. The gentlemen were very well\nmatched; the major was about twelve years old, and the oldest of the\ntwo that led him out was not above fourteen. The business was to go to\nBartholomew Fair, and the end of going to Bartholomew Fair was, in\nshort, to pick pockets.\nThe major knew nothing of the trade, and therefore was to do nothing;\nbut they promised him a share with them for all that, as if he had been\nas expert as themselves. So away they went. The two dexterous young\nrogues managed it so well that by eight o\u2019clock at night they came back\nto our dusty quarters at the glass-house, and, sitting them down in a\ncorner, they began to share their spoil, by the light of the\nglass-house fire. The major lugged out the goods, for as fast as they\nmade any purchase they unloaded themselves, and gave all to him, that,\nif they had been taken, nothing might be found about them.\nIt was a devilish lucky day to them, the devil certainly assisting them\nto find their prey, that he might draw in a young gamester, and\nencourage him to the undertaking, who had been made backward before by\nthe misfortune of the captain. The list of their purchase the first\nnight was as follows:\u2014\n1. A white handkerchief from a country wench, as she was staring up at\na jack-pudding; there was 3s. 6d. and a row of pins tied up in one end\nof it.\n2. A coloured handkerchief, out of a young country fellow\u2019s pocket as\nhe was buying a china orange.\n3. A riband purse with 11s. 3d. and a silver thimble in it, out of a\nyoung woman\u2019s pocket, just as a fellow offered to pick her up.\n_N.B_.\u2014She missed her purse presently, but, not seeing the thief,\ncharged the man with it that would have picked her up, and cried out,\n\u201cA pickpocket!\u201d and he fell into the hands of the mob, but, being known\nin the street, he got off with great difficulty.\n4. A knife and fork, that a couple of boys had just bought and were\ngoing home with; the young rogue that took it got it within the minute\nafter the boy had put it in his pocket.\n5. A little silver box with 7s. in it, all in small silver, 1d., 2d.,\n3d., 4d. pieces.\n_N.B_.\u2014This, it seems, a maid pulled out of her pocket, to pay at her\ngoing into the booth to see a show, and the little rogue got his hand\nin and fetched it off, just as she put it up again.\n6. Another silk handkerchief, out of a gentleman\u2019s pocket.\n7. Another.\n8. A jointed baby and a little looking-glass, stolen off a toy-seller\u2019s\nstall in the fair.\nAll this cargo to be brought home clear in one afternoon, or evening\nrather, and by only two little rogues so young, was, it must be\nconfessed, extraordinary; and the major was elevated the next day to a\nstrange degree.\nHe came very early to me, who lay not far from him, and said to me,\n\u201cColonel Jacque, I want to speak with you.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat do\nyou say?\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d said he, \u201cit is business of consequence; I cannot talk\nhere;\u201d so we walked out. As soon as we were come out into a narrow lane\nby the glass-house, \u201cLook here,\u201d says he, and pulls out his little hand\nalmost full of money.\nI was surprised at the sight, when he puts it up again, and, bringing\nhis hand out, \u201cHere,\u201d says he, \u201cyou shall have some of it;\u201d and gives\nme a sixpence and a shilling\u2019s worth of the small silver pieces. This\nwas very welcome to me, who, as much as I was of a gentleman, and as\nmuch as I thought of myself upon that account, never had a shilling of\nmoney together before in all my life, not that I could call my own.\nI was very earnest then to know how he came by this wealth, for he had\nfor his share 7s. 6d. in money, the silver thimble, and a silk\nhandkerchief, which was, in short, an estate to him, that never had, as\nI said of myself, a shilling together in his life.\n\u201cAnd what will you do with it now, Jacque?\u201d said I. \u201cI do?\u201d says he.\n\u201cThe first thing I do I\u2019ll go into Rag Fair and buy me a pair of shoes\nand stockings.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d says I, \u201cand so will I too;\u201d so away we\nwent together, and we bought each of us a pair of Rag Fair stockings in\nthe first place for fivepence; not fivepence a pair, but fivepence\ntogether; and good stockings they were too, much above our wear, I\nassure you.\nWe found it more difficult to fit ourselves with shoes; but at last,\nhaving looked a great while before we could find any good enough for\nus, we found a shop very well stored, and of these we bought two pair\nfor sixteenpence.\nWe put them on immediately, to our great comfort, for we had neither of\nus had any stockings to our legs that had any feet to them for a long\ntime. I found myself so refreshed with having a pair of warm stockings\non, and a pair of dry shoes\u2014things, I say, which I had not been\nacquainted with a great while\u2014that I began to call to my mind my being\na gentleman, and now I thought it began to come to pass. When we had\nthus fitted ourselves I said, \u201cHark ye, Major Jacque, you and I never\nhad any money in our lives before, and we never had a good dinner in\nall our lives. What if we should go somewhere and get some victuals? I\nam very hungry.\u201d\n\u201cSo we will, then,\u201d says the major; \u201cI am hungry too.\u201d So we went to a\nboiling cook\u2019s in Rosemary Lane, where we treated ourselves nobly, and,\nas I thought with myself, we began to live like gentlemen, for we had\nthree pennyworth of boiled beef, two pennyworth of pudding, a penny\nbrick (as they call it, or loaf), and a whole pint of strong beer,\nwhich was sevenpence in all.\n_N.B_.\u2014We had each of us a good mess of charming beef-broth into the\nbargain; and, which cheered my heart wonderfully, all the while we were\nat dinner, the maid and the boy in the house, every time they passed by\nthe open box where we sat at our dinner, would look in and cry,\n\u201cGentlemen, do you call?\u201d and \u201cDo ye call, gentlemen?\u201d I say, this was\nas good to me as all my dinner.\nNot the best housekeeper in Stepney parish, not my Lord Mayor of\nLondon, no, not the greatest man on earth, could be more happy in their\nown imagination, and with less mixture of grief or reflection, than I\nwas at this new piece of felicity; though mine was but a small part of\nit, for Major Jacque had an estate compared to me, as I had an estate\ncompared to what I had before; in a word, nothing but an utter\nignorance of greater felicity, which was my case, could make anybody\nthink himself so exalted as I did, though I had no share of this booty\nbut eighteenpence.\nThat night the major and I triumphed in our new enjoyment, and slept\nwith an undisturbed repose in the usual place, surrounded with the\nwarmth of the glass-house fires above, which was a full amends for all\nthe ashes and cinders which we rolled in below.\nThose who know the position of the glass-houses, and the arches where\nthey neal the bottles after they are made, know that those places where\nthe ashes are cast, and where the poor boys lie, are cavities in the\nbrickwork, perfectly close, except at the entrance, and consequently\nwarm as the dressing-room of a bagnio, that it is impossible they can\nfeel any cold there, were it in Greenland or Nova Zembla, and that\ntherefore the boys lie there not only safe, but very comfortably, the\nashes excepted, which are no grievance at all to them.\nThe next day the major and his comrades went abroad again, and were\nstill successful; nor did any disaster attend them, for I know not how\nmany months; and, by frequent imitation and direction, Major Jacque\nbecame as dexterous a pickpocket as any of them, and went on through a\nlong variety of fortunes, too long to enter upon now, because I am\nhastening to my own story, which at present is the main thing I have to\nset down.\nThe major failed not to let me see every day the effects of his new\nprosperity, and was so bountiful as frequently to throw me a tester,\nsometimes a shilling; and I might perceive that he began to have\nclothes on his back, to leave the ash-hole, having gotten a society\nlodging (of which I may give an explanation by itself on another\noccasion); and which was more, he took upon him to wear a shirt, which\nwas what neither he or I had ventured to do for three years before, and\nupward.\nBut I observed all this while, that though Major Jacque was so\nprosperous and had thriven so well, and notwithstanding he was very\nkind, and even generous, to me, in giving me money upon many occasions,\nyet he never invited me to enter myself into the society or to embark\nwith him, whereby I might have been made as happy as he; no, nor did he\nrecommend the employment to me at all.\nI was not very well pleased with his being thus reserved to me. I had\nlearned from him in general that the business was picking of pockets,\nand I fancied that though the ingenuity of the trade consisted very\nmuch in sleight-of-hand, a good address, and being very nimble, yet\nthat it was not at all difficult to learn; and, especially, I thought\nthe opportunities were so many, the country people that come to London\nso foolish, so gaping, and so engaged in looking about them, that it\nwas a trade with no great hazard annexed to it, and might be easily\nlearned, if I did but know in general the manner of it, and how they\nwent about it.\nThe subtle devil, never absent from his business, but ready at all\noccasions to encourage his servants, removed all these difficulties,\nand brought him into an intimacy with one of the most exquisite divers,\nor pickpockets, in the town; and this, our intimacy, was of no less a\nkind than that, as I had an inclination to be as wicked as any of them,\nhe was for taking care that I should not be disappointed.\nHe was above the little fellows who went about stealing trifles and\nbaubles in Bartholomew Fair, and ran the risk of being mobbed for three\nor four shillings. His aim was at higher things, even at no less than\nconsiderable sums of money, and bills for more.\nHe solicited me earnestly to go and take a walk with him as above,\nadding that after he had shown me my trade a little, he would let me be\nas wicked as I would; that is, as he expressed it, that after he had\nmade me capable, I should set up for myself, if I pleased, and he would\nonly wish me good luck.\nAccordingly, as Major Jacque went with his gentlemen only to see the\nmanner, and receive the purchase, and yet come in for a share; so he\ntold me, if he had success, I should have my share as much as if I had\nbeen principal; and this he assured me was a custom of the trade, in\norder to encourage young beginners, and bring them into the trade with\ncourage, for that nothing was to be done if a man had not the heart of\nthe lion.\nI hesitated at the matter a great while, objecting the hazard, and\ntelling the story of Captain Jacque, my elder brother, as I might call\nhim. \u201cWell, colonel,\u201d says he, \u201cI find you are faint-hearted, and to be\nfaint-hearted is indeed to be unfit for our trade, for nothing but a\nbold heart can go through stitch with this work; but, however, as there\nis nothing for you to do, so there is no risk for you to run in these\nthings the first time. If I am taken,\u201d says he, \u201cyou have nothing to do\nin it; they will let you go free; for it shall easily be made appear,\nthat whatever I have done, you had no hand in it.\u201d\nUpon these persuasions I ventured out with him; but I soon found that\nmy new friend was a thief of quality, and a pickpocket above the\nordinary rank, and that aimed higher abundantly than my brother Jacque.\nHe was a bigger boy than I a great deal; for though I was now near\nfifteen years old, I was not big of my age; and as to the nature of the\nthing, I was perfectly a stranger to it. I knew indeed what at first I\ndid not, for it was a good while before I understood the thing as an\noffence. I looked on picking pockets as a kind of trade, and thought I\nwas to go apprentice to it. It is true this was when I was young in the\nsociety, as well as younger in years, but even now I understood it to\nbe only a thing for which, if we were catched, we ran the risk of being\nducked or pumped, which we call soaking, and then all was over; and we\nmade nothing of having our rags wetted a little; but I never\nunderstood, till a great while after, that the crime was capital, and\nthat we might be sent to Newgate for it, till a great fellow, almost a\nman, one of our society, was hanged for it; and then I was terribly\nfrighted, as you shall hear by-and-by.\nWell, upon the persuasions of this lad, I walked out with him; a poor\ninnocent boy, and (as I remember my very thoughts perfectly well) I had\nno evil in my intentions. I had never stolen anything in my life; and\nif a goldsmith had left me in his shop, with heaps of money strewed all\nround me, and bade me look after it, I should not have touched it, I\nwas so honest; but the subtle tempter baited his hook for me, as I was\na child, in a manner suited to my childishness, for I never took this\npicking of pockets to be dishonesty, but, as I have said above, I\nlooked on it as a kind of trade that I was to be bred up to, and so I\nentered upon it, till I became hardened in it beyond the power of\nretreating. And thus I was made a thief involuntarily, and went on a\nlength that few boys do, without coming to the common period of that\nkind of life\u2014I mean to the transport-ship, or to the gallows.\nThe first day I went abroad with my new instructor, he carried me\ndirectly into the city, and as we went first to the water-side, he led\nme into the long-room at the custom-house. We were but a couple of\nragged boys at best, but I was much the worse. My leader had a hat on,\na shirt, and a neckcloth; as for me, I had neither of the three, nor\nhad I spoiled my manners so much as to have a hat on my head since my\nnurse died, which was now some years. His orders to me were to keep\nalways in sight, and near him, but not close to him, nor to take any\nnotice of him at any time till he came to me; and if any hurly-burly\nhappened, I should by no means know him, or pretend to have anything to\ndo with him.\nI observed my orders to a tittle. While he peered into every corner and\nhad his eye upon everybody, I kept my eye directly upon him, but went\nalways at a distance, and on the other side of the long-room, looking\nas it were for pins, and picking them up out of the dust as I could\nfind them, and then sticking them on my sleeve, where I had at last\ngotten forty or fifty good pins; but still my eye was upon my comrade,\nwho, I observed, was very busy among the crowds of people that stood at\nthe board doing business with the officers who pass the entries and\nmake the cockets, &c.\nAt length he comes over to me, and stooping as if he would take up a\npin close to me, he put some thing into my hand, and said, \u201cPut that\nup, and follow me downstairs quickly.\u201d He did not run, but shuffled\nalong apace through the crowd, and went down, not the great stairs\nwhich we came in at, but a little narrow staircase at the other end of\nthe long-room. I followed, and he found I did, and so went on, not\nstopping below, as I expected, nor speaking one word to me, till,\nthrough innumerable narrow passages, alleys, and dark ways, we were got\nup into Fenchurch Street, and through Billiter Lane into Leadenhall\nStreet, and from thence into Leadenhall Market.\nIt was not a meat-market day, so we had room to sit down upon one of\nthe butchers\u2019 stalls, and he bid me lug out. What he had given me was a\nlittle leather letter-case, with a French almanac stuck in the inside\nof it, and a great many papers in it of several kinds.\nWe looked them over, and found there was several valuable bills in it,\nsuch as bills of exchange and other notes, things I did not understand;\nbut among the rest was a goldsmith\u2019s note, as he called it, of one Sir\nStephen Evans, for \u00a3300, payable to the bearer, and at demand. Besides\nthis, there was another note for \u00a312, 10s., being a goldsmith\u2019s bill\ntoo, but I forget the name. There was a bill or two also written in\nFrench, which neither of us understood, but which, it seems, were\nthings of value, being called foreign bills accepted.\nThe rogue, my master, knew what belonged to the goldsmiths\u2019 bills well\nenough, and I observed, when he read the bill of Sir Stephen, he said,\n\u201cThis is too big for me to meddle with;\u201d but when he came to the bill\n\u00a312, 10s., he said to me, \u201cThis will do. Come hither, Jacque;\u201d so away\nhe runs to Lombard Street, and I after him, huddling the other papers\ninto the letter-case. As he went along he inquired the name out\nimmediately, and went directly to the shop, put on a good, grave\ncountenance, and had the money paid him without any stop or question\nasked. I stood on the other side the way looking about the street, as\nnot at all concerned with anybody that way, but observed that when he\npresented the bill he pulled out the letter-case, as if he had been a\nmerchant\u2019s boy, acquainted with business, and had other bills about\nhim.\nThey paid him the money in gold, and he made haste enough in telling it\nover, and came away, passing by me, and going into Three King Court, on\nthe other side of the way; then we crossed back into Clement\u2019s Lane,\nmade the best of our way to Cole Harbour, at the water-side, and got a\nsculler for a penny to carry us over the water to St. Mary Overy\u2019s\nstairs, where we landed, and were safe enough.\nHere he turns to me; \u201cColonel Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201cI believe you are a\nlucky boy; this is a good job. We\u2019ll go away to St. George\u2019s Fields and\nshare our booty.\u201d Away we went to the Fields, and sitting down in the\ngrass, far enough out of the path, he pulled out the money. \u201cLook here,\nJacque,\u201d says he, \u201cdid you ever see the like before in your life?\u201d \u201cNo,\nnever,\u201d says I; and added very innocently, \u201cMust we have it all?\u201d \u201cWe\nhave it!\u201d says he, \u201cwho should have it?\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cmust the man\nhave none of it again that lost it?\u201d \u201cHe have it again!\u201d says he. \u201cWhat\nd\u2019ye mean by that?\u201d \u201cNay, I don\u2019t know,\u201d says I. \u201cWhy, you said just\nnow you would let him have the t\u2019other bill again, that you said was\ntoo big for you.\u201d\nHe laughed at me. \u201cYou are but a little boy,\u201d says he, \u201cthat\u2019s true,\nbut I thought you had not been such a child neither;\u201d so he mighty\ngravely explained the thing to me thus: that the bill of Sir Stephen\nEvans was a great bill for \u00a3300, \u201cand if I,\u201d says he, \u201cthat am but a\npoor lad, should venture to go for the money, they will presently say,\nhow should I come by such a bill, and that I certainly found it or\nstole it; so they will stop me,\u201d says he, \u201cand take it away from me,\nand it may bring me into trouble for it too; so,\u201d says he, \u201cI did say\nit was too big for me to meddle with, and that I would let the man have\nit again, if I could tell how. But for the money, Jacque, the money\nthat we have got, I warrant you he should have none of that. Besides,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cwhoever he be that has lost this letter-case, to be sure, as\nsoon as he missed it, he would run to the goldsmith and give notice\nthat if anybody came for the money they would be stopped; but I am too\nold for him there,\u201d says he.\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cand what will you do with the bill? Will you throw it\naway? If you do, somebody else will find it,\u201d says I, \u201cand they will go\nand take the money.\u201d \u201cNo, no,\u201d says he; \u201cthen they will be stopped and\nexamined, as I tell you I should be.\u201d I did not know well what all this\nmeant, so I talked no more about that; but we fell to handling the\nmoney. As for me, I had never seen so much together in all my life, nor\ndid I know what in the world to do with it, and once or twice I was\na-going to bid him keep it for me, which would have been done like a\nchild indeed, for, to be sure, I had never heard a word more of it,\nthough nothing had befallen him.\nHowever, as I happened to hold my tongue as to that part, he shared the\nmoney very honestly with me; only at the end he told me, that though it\nwas true he promised me half, yet as it was the first time, and I had\ndone nothing but look on, so he thought it was very well if I took a\nlittle less than he did; so he divided the money, which was \u00a312, 10s.,\ninto two exact parts, viz., \u00a36, 5s. in each part; then he took \u00a31, 5s.\nfrom my part, and told me I should give him that for hansel. \u201cWell,\u201d\nsays I, \u201ctake it, then, for I think you deserve it all:\u201d so, however, I\ntook up the rest, and \u201cWhat shall I do with this now,\u201d says I, \u201cfor I\nhave nowhere to put it?\u201d \u201cWhy, have you no pockets?\u201d says he. \u201cYes,\u201d\nsays I; \u201cbut they are full of holes.\u201d I have often thought since that,\nand with some mirth too, how I had really more wealth than I knew what\nto do with; for lodging I had none, nor any box or drawer to hide my\nmoney in; nor had I any pocket, but such as I say was full of holes. I\nknew nobody in the world that I could go and desire them to lay it up\nfor me; for, being a poor naked, ragged boy, they would presently say I\nhad robbed somebody, and perhaps lay hold of me, and my money would be\nmy crime, as they say it often is in foreign countries. And now, as I\nwas full of wealth, behold I was full of care, for what to do to secure\nmy money I could not tell; and this held me so long, and was so\nvexatious to me the next day, that I truly sat down and cried.\nNothing could be more perplexing than this money was to me all that\nnight. I carried it in my hand a good while, for it was in gold, all\nbut 14s.; and that is to say, it was in four guineas, and that 14s. was\nmore difficult to carry than the four guineas. At last I sat down and\npulled off one of my shoes, and put the four guineas into that; but\nafter I had gone a while, my shoe hurt me so I could not go, so I was\nfain to sit down again and take it out of my shoe, and carry it in my\nhand. Then I found a dirty linen rag in the street, and I took that up\nand wrapped it all together, and carried it in that a good way. I have\noften since heard people say, when they have been talking of money that\nthey could not get in, \u201cI wish I had it in a foul clout;\u201d in truth, I\nhad mine in a foul clout; for it was foul, according to the letter of\nthat saying, but it served me till I came to a convenient place, and\nthen I sat down and washed the cloth in the kennel, and so then put my\nmoney in again.\nWell, I carried it home with me to my lodging in the glass-house, and\nwhen I went to go to sleep I knew not what to do with it. If I had let\nany of the black crew I was with know of it, I should have been\nsmothered in the ashes for it, or robbed of it, or some trick or other\nput upon me for it; so I knew not what to do, but lay with it in my\nhand, and my hand in my bosom. But then sleep went from my eyes. Oh,\nthe weight of human care! I, a poor beggar-boy, could not sleep so soon\nas I had but a little money to keep, who before that could have slept\nupon a heap of brick-bats, or stones, or cinders, or anywhere, as sound\nas a rich man does on his down bed, and sounder too.\nEvery now and then dropping asleep, I should dream that my money was\nlost, and start like one frighted; then, finding it fast in my hand,\ntry to go to sleep again, but could not for a long while; then drop and\nstart again. At last a fancy came into my head that if I fell asleep I\nshould dream of the money, and talk of it in my sleep, and tell that I\nhad money, which if I should do, and one of the rogues should hear me,\nthey would pick it out of my bosom, and of my hand too, without waking\nme; and after that thought I could not sleep a wink more; so that I\npassed that night over in care and anxiety enough; and this, I may\nsafely say, was the first night\u2019s rest that I lost by the cares of this\nlife and the deceitfulness of riches.\nAs soon as it was day I got out of the hole we lay in, and rambled\nabroad in the fields towards Stepney, and there I mused and considered\nwhat I should do with this money, and many a time I wished that I had\nnot had it; for, after all my ruminating upon it, and what course I\nshould take with it, or where I should put it, I could not hit upon any\none thing, or any possible method to secure it, and it perplexed me so\nthat at last, as I said just now, I sat down and cried heartily.\nWhen my crying was over the case was the same; I had the money still,\nand what to do with it I could not tell. At last it came into my head\nthat I would look out for some hole in a tree, and seek to hide it\nthere till I should have occasion for it. Big was this discovery, as I\nthen thought it. I began to look about me for a tree; but there were no\ntrees in the fields about Stepney or Mile End that looked fit for my\npurpose; and if there were any that I began to look narrowly at, the\nfields were so full of people that they would see if I went to hide any\nthing there; and I thought the people eyed me as it was, and that two\nmen in particular followed me to see what I intended to do.\nThis drove me farther off, and I crossed the road at Mile End, and in\nthe middle of the town went down a lane that goes away to the Blind\nBeggar\u2019s at Bethnal Green. When I came a little way in the lane I found\na footpath over the fields, and in those fields several trees for my\nturn, as I thought. At last one tree had a little hole in it, pretty\nhigh out of my reach, and I climbed up the tree to get it, and when I\ncame there I put my hand in, and found (as I thought) a place very fit,\nso I placed my treasure there, and was mighty well satisfied with it;\nbut, behold, putting my hand in again to lay it more commodiously, as I\nthought, of a sudden it slipped away from me, and I found the tree was\nhollow, and my little parcel was fallen in quite out of my reach, and\nhow far it might go in I knew not; so that, in a word, my money was\nquite gone, irrecoverably lost. There could be no room so much as to\nhope ever to see it again, for \u2019twas a vast great tree.\nAs young as I was, I was now sensible what a fool I was before, that I\ncould not think of ways to keep my money, but I must come thus far to\nthrow it into a hole where I could not reach it. Well, I thrust my hand\nquite up to my elbow, but no bottom was to be found, or any end of the\nhole or cavity. I got a stick of the tree, and thrust it in a great\nway, but all was one. Then I cried, nay, roared out, I was in such a\npassion. Then I got down the tree again, then up again, and thrust in\nmy hand again till I scratched my arm and made it bleed, and cried all\nthe while most violently. Then I began to think I had not so much as a\nhalfpenny of it left for a halfpenny roll, and I was hungry, and then I\ncried again. Then I came away in despair, crying and roaring like a\nlittle boy that had been whipped; then I went back again to the tree,\nand up the tree again, and thus I did several times. The last time I\nhad gotten up the tree I happened to come down not on the same side\nthat I went up and came down before, but on the other side of the tree,\nand on the side of the bank also; and, behold, the tree had a great\nopen place in the side of it close to the ground, as old hollow trees\noften have; and looking into the open place, to my inexpressible joy,\nthere lay my money and my linen rag, all wrapped up just as I had put\nit into the hole; for the tree being hollow all the way up, there had\nbeen some moss or light stuff, which I had not judgment enough to know\nwas not firm, and had given way when it came to drop out of my hand,\nand so it had slipped quite down at once.\nI was but a child, and I rejoiced like a child, for I halloed quite out\nloud when I saw it; then I ran to it, and snatched it up, hugged and\nkissed the dirty rag a hundred times; then danced and jumped about, ran\nfrom one end of the field to the other, and, in short, I knew not what;\nmuch less do I know now what I did, though I shall never forget the\nthing, either what a sinking grief it was to my heart when I thought I\nhad lost it, or what a flood of joy overwhelmed me when I had got it\nagain.\nWhile I was in the first transport of my joy, as I have said, I ran\nabout, and knew not what I did; but when that was over I sat down,\nopened the foul clout the money was in, looked at it, told it, found it\nwas all there, and then I fell a-crying as savourly as I did before,\nwhen I thought I had lost it.\nIt would tire the reader should I dwell on all the little boyish tricks\nthat I played in the ecstasy of my joy and satisfaction when I had\nfound my money; so I break off here. Joy is as extravagant as grief,\nand since I have been a man I have often thought, that had such a thing\nbefallen a man, so to have lost all he had, and not have a bit of bread\nto eat, and then so strangely to find it again, after having given it\nso effectually over\u2014I say, had it been so with a man, it might have\nhazarded his using some violence upon himself.\nWell, I came away with my money, and having taken sixpence out of it,\nbefore I made it up again I went to a chandler\u2019s shop in Mile End and\nbought a halfpenny roll and a halfpenny worth of cheese, and sat down\nat the door after I bought it, and ate it very heartily, and begged\nsome beer to drink with it, which the good woman gave me very freely.\nAway I went then for the town, to see if I could find any of my\ncompanions, and resolved I would try no more hollow trees for my\ntreasure. As I came along Whitechapel I came by a broker\u2019s shop over\nagainst the church, where they sold old clothes, for I had nothing on\nbut the worst of rags; so I stopped at the shop, and stood looking at\nthe clothes which hung at the door.\n\u201cWell, young gentleman,\u201d says a man that stood at the door, \u201cyou look\nwishfully. Do you see any thing you like, and will your pocket compass\na good coat now, for you look as if you belonged to the ragged\nregiment?\u201d I was affronted at the fellow. \u201cWhat\u2019s that to you,\u201d says I,\n\u201chow ragged I am? If I had seen anything I liked, I have money to pay\nfor it; but I can go where I shan\u2019t be huffed at for looking.\u201d\nWhile I said thus pretty boldly to the fellow comes a woman out. \u201cWhat\nails you,\u201d says she to the man, \u201cto bully away our customers so? A poor\nboy\u2019s money is as good as my Lord Mayor\u2019s. If poor people did not buy\nold clothes, what would become of our business?\u201d And then turning to\nme, \u201cCome hither, child,\u201d says she; \u201cif thou hast a mind to anything I\nhave, you shan\u2019t be hectored by him. The boy is a pretty boy, I assure\nyou,\u201d says she to another woman that was by this time come to her.\n\u201cAy,\u201d says the t\u2019other, \u201cso he is, a very well-looking child, if he was\nclean and well dressed, and may be as good a gentleman\u2019s son, for\nanything we know, as any of those that are well dressed. Come, my\ndear,\u201d says she, \u201ctell me what is it you would have.\u201d She pleased me\nmightily to hear her talk of my being a gentleman\u2019s son, and it brought\nformer things to my mind; but when she talked of my being not clean and\nin rags, then I cried.\nShe pressed me to tell her if I saw anything that I wanted. I told her\nno, all the clothes I saw there were too big for me. \u201cCome, child,\u201d\nsays she, \u201cI have two things here that will fit you, and I am sure you\nwant them both; that is, first, a little hat, and there,\u201d says she\n(tossing it to me), \u201cI\u2019ll give you that for nothing. And here is a good\nwarm pair of breeches; I dare say,\u201d says she, \u201cthey will fit you, and\nthey are very tight and good; and,\u201d says she, \u201cif you should ever come\nto have so much money that you don\u2019t know what to do with it, here are\nexcellent good pockets,\u201d says she, \u201cand a little fob to put your gold\nin, or your watch in, when you get it.\u201d\nIt struck me with a strange kind of joy that I should have a place to\nput my money in, and need not go to hide it again in a hollow tree,\nthat I was ready to snatch the breeches out of her hands, and wondered\nthat I should be such a fool never to think of buying me a pair of\nbreeches before, that I might have a pocket to put my money in, and not\ncarry it about two days together in my hand, and in my shoes and I knew\nnot how; so, in a word, I gave her two shillings for the breeches, and\nwent over into the churchyard and put them on, put my money into my new\npockets, and was as pleased as a prince is with his coach and six\nhorses. I thanked the good woman too for the hat, and told her I would\ncome again when I got more money, and buy some other things I wanted;\nand so I came away.\nI was but a boy, \u2019tis true, but I thought myself a man, now I had got a\npocket to put my money in, and I went directly to find out my companion\nby whose means I got it; but I was frighted out of my wits when I heard\nthat he was carried to Bridewell. I made no question but it was for the\nletter-case, and that I should be carried there too; and then my poor\nbrother Captain Jacque\u2019s case came into my head, and that I should be\nwhipped there as cruelly as he was, and I was in such a fright that I\nknew not what to do.\nBut in the afternoon I met him; he had been carried to Bridewell, it\nseems, upon that very affair, but was got out again. The case was thus:\nhaving had such good luck at the custom-house the day before, he takes\nhis walk thither again, and as he was in the long-room, gaping and\nstaring about him, a fellow lays hold of him, and calls to one of the\nclerks that sat behind, \u201cHere,\u201d says he, \u201cis the same young rogue that\nI told you I saw loitering about t\u2019other day, when the gentleman lost\nhis letter-case and his goldsmiths\u2019 bills; I dare say it was he that\nstole them.\u201d Immediately the whole crowd of people gathered about the\nboy, and charged him point-blank; but he was too well used to such\nthings to be frighted into a confession of what he knew they could not\nprove, for he had nothing about him belonging to it, nor had any money\nbut six pence and a few dirty farthings.\nThey threatened him, and pulled and hauled him, till they almost pulled\nthe clothes off his back, and the commissioners examined him; but all\nwas one; he would own nothing, but said he walked up through the room,\nonly to see the place, both then and the time before, for he had owned\nhe was there before; so, as there was no proof against him of any fact,\nno, nor of any circumstances relating to the letter-case, they were\nforced at last to let him go. However, they made a show of carrying him\nto Bridewell, and they did carry him to the gate to see if they could\nmake him confess anything; but he would confess nothing, and they had\nno mittimus; so they durst not carry him into the house; nor would the\npeople have received him, I suppose, if they had, they having no\nwarrant for putting him in prison.\nWell, when they could get nothing out of him, they carried him into an\nalehouse, and there they told him that the letter-case had bills in it\nof a very great value; that they would be of no use to the rogue that\nhad them, but they would be of infinite damage to the gentleman that\nhad lost them; and that he had left word with the clerk, whom the man\nthat stopped this boy had called to, and who was there with him, that\nhe would give \u00a330 to any one that would bring them again, and give all\nthe security that could be desired that he would give them no trouble,\nwhoever it was.\nHe was just come from out of their hands when I met with him, and so he\ntold me all the story. \u201cBut,\u201d says he, \u201cI would confess nothing, and so\nI got off, and am come away clear.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cand what will you\ndo with the letter-case and the bills? Will you not let the poor man\nhave his bills again?\u201d \u201cNo, not I,\u201d says he; \u201cI won\u2019t trust them. What\ncare I for their bills?\u201d It came into my head, as young as I was, that\nit was a sad thing indeed to take a man\u2019s bills away for so much money,\nand not have any advantage by it neither; for I concluded that the\ngentleman who owned the bills must lose all the money, and it was\nstrange he should keep the bills, and make a gentleman lose so much\nmoney for nothing. I remember that I ruminated very much about it, and\nthough I did not understand it very well, yet it lay upon my mind, and\nI said every now and then to him, \u201cDo let the gentleman have his bills\nagain; do, pray do;\u201d and so I teased him, with \u201cDo\u201d and \u201cPray do,\u201d till\nat last I cried about them. He said, \u201cWhat, would you have me be found\nout and sent to Bridewell, and be whipped, as your brother Captain\nJacque was?\u201d I said, \u201cNo, I would not have you whipped, but I would\nhave the man have his bills, for they will do you no good, but the\ngentleman will be undone, it may be.\u201d And then I added again, \u201cDo let\nhim have them.\u201d He snapped me short. \u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201chow shall I get\nthem to him? Who dare carry them? I dare not, to be sure, for they will\nstop me, and bring the goldsmith to see if he does not know me, and\nthat I received the money, and so they will prove the robbery, and I\nshall be hanged. Would you have me be hanged, Jacque?\u201d\nI was silenced a good while with that, for when he said, \u201cWould you\nhave me be hanged, Jacque?\u201d I had no more to say. But one day after\nthis he called to me. \u201cColonel Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201cI have thought of a\nway how the gentleman shall have his bills again; and you and I shall\nget a good deal of money by it, if you will be honest to me, as I was\nto you.\u201d \u201cIndeed,\u201d says I, \u201cRobin\u201d\u2014that was his name\u2014\u201cI will be very\nhonest; let me know how it is, for I would fain have him have his\nbills.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201cthey told me that he had left word at the clerk\u2019s\nplace in the long-room that he would give \u00a330 to any one that had the\nbills, and would restore them, and would ask no questions. Now, if you\nwill go, like a poor innocent boy, as you are, into the long-room and\nspeak to the clerk, it may do. Tell him if the gentleman will do as he\npromised, you believe you can tell him who has it; and if they are\ncivil to you, and willing to be as good as their words, you shall have\nthe letter-case, and give it them.\u201d\nI told him ay, I would go with all my heart. \u201cBut, Colonel Jacque,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cwhat if they should take hold of you and threaten to have you\nwhipped? Won\u2019t you discover me to them?\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d says I; \u201cif they would\nwhip me to death I won\u2019t.\u201d \u201cWell, then,\u201d says he, \u201cthere\u2019s the\nletter-case; do you go.\u201d So he gave me directions how to act and what\nto say; but I would not take the letter-case with me, lest they should\nprove false, and take hold of me, thinking to find it upon me, and so\ncharge me with the fact; so I left it with him. And the next morning I\nwent to the custom-house, as was agreed. What my directions were will,\nto avoid repetition, appear in what happened; it was an errand of too\nmuch consequence indeed to be entrusted to a boy, not only so young as\nI was, but so little of a rogue as I was yet arrived to the degree of.\nTwo things I was particularly armed with, which I resolved upon: 1.\nThat the man should have his bills again; for it seemed a horrible\nthing to me that he should be made to lose his money, which I supposed\nhe must, purely because we would not carry the letter-case home. 2.\nThat whatever happened to me, I was never to tell the name of my\ncomrade Robin, who had been the principal. With these two pieces of\nhonesty, for such they were both in themselves, and with a manly heart,\nthough a boy\u2019s head, I went up into the long-room in the custom-house\nthe next day.\nAs soon as I came to the place where the thing was done, I saw the man\nsit just where he had sat before, and it ran in my head that he had sat\nthere ever since; but I knew no better; so I went up, and stood just at\nthat side of the writing-board that goes upon that side of the room,\nand which I was but just tall enough to lay my arms upon.\nWhile I stood there one thrust me this way, and another thrust me that\nway, and the man that sat behind began to look at me. At last he called\nout to me, \u201cWhat does that boy do there? Get you gone, sirrah! Are you\none of the rogues that stole the gentleman\u2019s letter-case a Monday\nlast?\u201d Then he turns his tale to a gentleman that was doing business\nwith him, and goes on thus: \u201cHere was Mr. \u2014\u2014 had a very unlucky chance\non Monday last. Did not you hear of it?\u201d \u201cNo, not I,\u201d says the\ngentleman. \u201cWhy, standing just there, where you do,\u201d says he, \u201cmaking\nhis entries, he pulled out his letter-case, and laid it down, as he\nsays, but just at his hand, while he reached over to the standish there\nfor a penful of ink, and somebody stole away his letter-case.\u201d\n\u201cHis letter-case!\u201d says t\u2019other. \u201cWhat, and was there any bills in it?\u201d\n\u201cAy,\u201d says he, \u201cthere was Sir Stephen Evans\u2019s note in it for \u00a3300, and\nanother goldsmith\u2019s bill for about \u00a312; and which is worse still for\nthe gentleman, he had two foreign accepted bills in it for a great\nsum\u2014I know not how much. I think one was a French bill for 1200\ncrowns.\u201d\n\u201cAnd who could it be?\u201d says the gentleman.\n\u201cNobody knows,\u201d says he; \u201cbut one of our room-keepers says he saw a\ncouple of young rogues like that,\u201d pointing at me, \u201changing about here,\nand that on a sudden they were both gone.\u201d\n\u201cVillains!\u201d says he again. \u201cWhy, what can they do with them? They will\nbe of no use to them. I suppose he went immediately and gave notice to\nprevent the payment.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d says the clerk, \u201che did; but the rogues were too nimble for him\nwith the little bill of \u00a312 odd money; they went and got the money for\nthat, but all the rest are stopped. However, \u2019tis an unspeakable damage\nto him for want of his money.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, he should publish a reward for the encouragement of those that\nhave them to bring them again; they would be glad to bring them, I\nwarrant you.\u201d\n\u201cHe has posted it up at the door that he will give \u00a330 for them.\u201d\n\u201cAy; but he should add that he will promise not to stop or give any\ntrouble to the person that brings them.\u201d\n\u201cHe has done that too,\u201d says he; \u201cbut I fear they won\u2019t trust\nthemselves to be honest, for fear he should break his word.\u201d\n\u201cWhy? It is true he may break his word in that case, but no man should\ndo so; for then no rogue will venture to bring home anything that is\nstolen, and so he would do an injury to others after him.\u201d\n\u201cI durst pawn my life for him, he would scorn it.\u201d\nThus far they discoursed of it, and then went off to something else. I\nheard it all, but did not know what to do a great while; but at last,\nwatching the gentleman that went away, when he was gone I ran after him\nto have spoken to him, intending to have broke it to him, but he went\nhastily into a room or two full of people at the hither end of the\nlong-room; and when I went to follow, the doorkeepers turned me back,\nand told me I must not go in there; so I went back, and loitered about\nnear the man that sat behind the board, and hung about there till I\nfound the clock struck twelve, and the room began to be thin of people;\nand at last he sat there writing, but nobody stood at the board before\nhim, as there had all the rest of the morning. Then I came a little\nnearer, and stood close to the board, as I did before; when, looking up\nfrom his paper, and seeing me, says he to me, \u201cYou have been up and\ndown here all this morning, sirrah! What do you want? You have some\nbusiness that is not very good, I doubt.\u201d\n\u201cNo, I han\u2019t,\u201d said I.\n\u201cNo? It is well if you han\u2019t,\u201d says he. \u201cPray, what business can you\nhave in the long-room, sir? You are no merchant.\u201d\n\u201cI would speak with you,\u201d said I.\n\u201cWith me!\u201d says he. \u201cWhat have you to say to me?\u201d\n\u201cI have something to say,\u201d said I, \u201cif you will do me no harm for it.\u201d\n\u201cI do thee harm, child! What harm should I do thee?\u201d and spoke very\nkindly.\n\u201cWon\u2019t you indeed, sir?\u201d said I.\n\u201cNo, not I, child; I\u2019ll do thee no harm. What is it? Do you know\nanything of the gentleman\u2019s letter-case?\u201d\nI answered, but spoke softly that he could not hear me; so he gets over\npresently into the seat next him, and opens a place that was made to\ncome out, and bade me come in to him; and I did.\nThen he asked me again if I knew anything of the letter-case.\nI spoke softly again, and said folks would hear him.\nThen he whispered softly, and asked me again.\nI told him I believed I did, but that, indeed, I had it not, nor had no\nhand in stealing it, but it was gotten into the hands of a boy that\nwould have burned it, if it had not been for me; and that I heard him\nsay that the gentleman would be glad to have them again, and give a\ngood deal of money for them.\n\u201cI did say so, child,\u201d said he; \u201cand if you can get them for him, he\nshall give you a good reward, no less than \u00a330, as he has promised.\u201d\n\u201cBut you said too, sir, to the gentleman just now,\u201d said I, \u201cthat you\nwas sure he would not bring them into any harm that should bring them.\u201d\n\u201cNo, you shall come to no harm. I will pass my word for it.\u201d\n_Boy_. Nor shan\u2019t they make me bring other people into trouble?\n_Gent_. No; you shall not be asked the name of anybody, nor to tell who\nthey are.\n_Boy_. I am but a poor boy, and I would fain have the gentleman have\nhis bills; and indeed I did not take them away, nor I han\u2019t got them.\n_Gent_. But can you tell how the gentleman shall have them?\n_Boy_. If I can get them, I will bring them to you to-morrow morning.\n_Gent_. Can you not do it to-night?\n_Boy_. I believe I may if I knew where to come.\n_Gent_. Come to my house, child.\n_Boy_. I don\u2019t know where you live.\n_Gent_. Go along with me now, and you shall see.\nSo he carried me up into Tower Street, and showed me his house, and\nordered me to come there at five o\u2019clock at night; which accordingly I\ndid, and carried the letter-case with me.\nWhen I came the gentleman asked me if I had brought the book, as he\ncalled it.\n\u201cIt is not a book,\u201d said I.\n\u201cNo, the letter-case; that\u2019s all one,\u201d says he.\n\u201cYou promised me,\u201d said I, \u201cyou would not hurt me,\u201d and cried.\n\u201cDon\u2019t be afraid, child,\u201d says he. \u201cI will not hurt thee, poor boy;\nnobody shall hurt thee.\u201d\n\u201cHere it is,\u201d said I, and pulled it out.\nHe then brought in another gentleman, who, it seems, owned the\nletter-case, and asked him if that was it, and he said, \u201cYes.\u201d\nThen he asked me if all the bills were in it.\nI told him I heard him say there was one gone, but I believed there was\nall the rest.\n\u201cWhy do you believe so?\u201d says he.\n\u201cBecause I heard the boy that I believe stole them say they were too\nbig for him to meddle with.\u201d\nThe gentleman then that owned them said, \u201cWhere is the boy?\u201d\nThen the other gentleman put in, and said, \u201cNo, you must not ask him\nthat; I passed my word that you should not, and that he should not be\nobliged to tell it to anybody.\u201d\n\u201cWell, child,\u201d says he, \u201cyou will let us see the letter-case opened,\nand whether the bills are in it?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d says I.\nThen the first gentleman said, \u201cHow many bills were there in it?\u201d\n\u201cOnly three,\u201d says he. \u201cBesides the bill of \u00a312, 10s., there was Sir\nStephen Evans\u2019s note for \u00a3300 and two foreign bills.\u201d\n\u201cWell, then, if they are in the letter-case, the boy shall have \u00a330,\nshall he not?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d says the gentleman; \u201che shall have it very\nfreely.\u201d\n\u201cCome, then, child,\u201d says he, \u201clet me open it.\u201d\nSo I gave it him, and he opened it, and there were all three bills, and\nseveral other papers, fair and safe, nothing defaced or diminished; and\nthe gentleman said, \u201cAll is right.\u201d\nThen said the first man, \u201cThen I am security to the poor boy for the\nmoney.\u201d \u201cWell, but,\u201d says the gentleman, \u201cthe rogues have got the \u00a312,\n10s.; they ought to reckon that as part of the \u00a330.\u201d Had he asked me, I\nshould have consented to it at first word; but the first man stood my\nfriend. \u201cNay,\u201d says he, \u201cit was since you knew that the \u00a312, 10s. was\nreceived that you offered \u00a330 for the other bills, and published it by\nthe crier, and posted it up at the custom-house door, and I promised\nhim the \u00a330 this morning.\u201d They argued long, and I thought would have\nquarrelled about it.\nHowever, at last they both yielded a little, and the gentleman gave me\n\u00a325 in good guineas. When he gave it me he bade me hold out my hand,\nand he told the money into my hand; and when he had done he asked me if\nit was right. I said I did not know, but I believed it was. \u201cWhy,\u201d says\nhe, \u201ccan\u2019t you tell it?\u201d I told him no; I never saw so much money in my\nlife, nor I did not know how to tell money. \u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201cdon\u2019t you\nknow that they are guineas?\u201d No, I told him, I did not know how much a\nguinea was.\n\u201cWhy, then,\u201d says he, \u201cdid you tell me you believed it was right?\u201d I\ntold him, because I believed he would not give it me wrong.\n\u201cPoor child,\u201d says he, \u201cthou knowest little of the world, indeed. What\nart thou?\u201d\n\u201cI am a poor boy,\u201d says I, and cried.\n\u201cWhat is your name?\u201d says he. \u201cBut hold, I forgot,\u201d said he; \u201cI\npromised I would not ask your name, so you need not tell me.\u201d\n\u201cMy name is Jacque,\u201d said I.\n\u201cWhy, have you no surname?\u201d said he.\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d said I.\n\u201cYou have some other name besides Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201chan\u2019t you?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d says I; \u201cthey call me Colonel Jacque.\u201d\n\u201cBut have you no other name?\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d said I.\n\u201cHow came you to be Colonel Jacque, pray?\u201d\n\u201cThey say,\u201d said I, \u201cmy father\u2019s name was Colonel.\u201d\n\u201cIs your father or mother alive?\u201d said he.\n\u201cNo,\u201d said I; \u201cmy father is dead.\u201d\n\u201cWhere is your mother, then?\u201d said he.\n\u201cI never had e\u2019er a mother,\u201d said I.\nThis made him laugh. \u201cWhat,\u201d said he, \u201chad you never a mother? What,\nthen?\u201d\n\u201cI had a nurse,\u201d said I; \u201cbut she was not my mother.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he to the gentleman, \u201cI dare say this boy was not the\nthief that stole your bills.\u201d\n\u201cIndeed, sir, I did not steal them,\u201d said I, and cried again.\n\u201cNo, no, child,\u201d said he, \u201cwe don\u2019t believe you did. This is a very\nclever boy,\u201d says he to the other gentleman, \u201cand yet very ignorant and\nhonest; \u2019tis pity some care should not be taken of him, and something\ndone for him. Let us talk a little more with him.\u201d So they sat down and\ndrank wine, and gave me some, and then the first gentleman talked to me\nagain.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cwhat wilt thou do with this money now thou hast it?\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d said I.\n\u201cWhere will you put it?\u201d said he,\n\u201cIn my pocket,\u201d said I.\n\u201cIn your pocket!\u201d said he. \u201cIs your pocket whole? Shan\u2019t you lose it?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said I, \u201cmy pocket is whole.\u201d\n\u201cAnd where will you put it when you get home?\u201d\n\u201cI have no home,\u201d said I, and cried again.\n\u201cPoor child!\u201d said he. \u201cThen what dost thou do for thy living?\u201d\n\u201cI go of errands,\u201d said I, \u201cfor the folks in Rosemary Lane.\u201d\n\u201cAnd what dost thou do for a lodging at night?\u201d\n\u201cI lie at the glass-house,\u201d said I, \u201cat night.\u201d\n\u201cHow, lie at the glass-house! Have they any beds there?\u201d says he.\n\u201cI never lay in a bed in my life,\u201d said I, \u201cas I remember.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201cwhat do you lie on at the glass-house?\u201d\n\u201cThe ground,\u201d says I; \u201cand sometimes a little straw, or upon the warm\nashes.\u201d\nHere the gentleman that lost the bills said, \u201cThis poor child is enough\nto make a man weep for the miseries of human nature, and be thankful\nfor himself; he puts tears into my eyes.\u201d \u201cAnd into mine too,\u201d says the\nother.\n\u201cWell, but hark ye, Jacque,\u201d says the first gentleman, \u201cdo they give\nyou no money when they send you of errands?\u201d\n\u201cThey give me victuals,\u201d said I, \u201cand that\u2019s better.\u201d\n\u201cBut what,\u201d says he, \u201cdo you do for clothes?\u201d\n\u201cThey give me sometimes old things,\u201d said I, \u201csuch as they have to\nspare.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, you have never a shirt on, I believe,\u201d said he, \u201chave you?\u201d\n\u201cNo; I never had a shirt,\u201d said I, \u201csince my nurse died.\u201d\n\u201cHow long ago is that?\u201d said he.\n\u201cSix winters, when this is out,\u201d said I.\n\u201cWhy, how old are you?\u201d said he.\n\u201cI can\u2019t tell,\u201d said I.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says the gentleman, \u201cnow you have this money, won\u2019t you buy\nsome clothes and a shirt with some of it?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said I, \u201cI would buy some clothes.\u201d\n\u201cAnd what will you do with the rest?\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t tell,\u201d said I, and cried.\n\u201cWhat dost cry for, Jacque?\u201d said he.\n\u201cI am afraid,\u201d said I, and cried still.\n\u201cWhat art afraid of?\u201d\n\u201cThey will know I have money.\u201d\n\u201cWell, and what then?\u201d\n\u201cThen I must sleep no more in the warm glass house, and I shall be\nstarved with cold. They will take away my money.\u201d\n\u201cBut why must you sleep there no more?\u201d\nHere the gentlemen observed to one another how naturally anxiety and\nperplexity attend those that have money. \u201cI warrant you,\u201d says the\nclerk, \u201cwhen this poor boy had no money he slept all night in the\nstraw, or on the warm ashes in the glass-house, as soundly and as void\nof care as it would be possible for any creature to do; but now, as\nsoon as he has gotten money, the care of preserving it brings tears\ninto his eyes and fear into his heart.\u201d\nThey asked me a great many questions more, to which I answered in my\nchildish way as well as I could, but so as pleased them well enough. At\nlast I was going away with a heavy pocket, and I assure you not a light\nheart, for I was so frighted with having so much money that I knew not\nwhat in the earth to do with myself. I went away, however, and walked a\nlittle way, but I could not tell what to do; so, after rambling two\nhours or thereabout, I went back again, and sat down at the gentleman\u2019s\ndoor, and there I cried as long as I had any moisture in my head to\nmake tears of, but never knocked at the door.\nI had not sat long, I suppose, but somebody belonging to the family got\nknowledge of it, and a maid came and talked to me, but I said little to\nher, only cried still. At length it came to the gentleman\u2019s ears. As\nfor the merchant, he was gone. When the gentleman heard of me he called\nme in, and began to talk with me again, and asked me what I stayed for.\nI told him I had not stayed there all that while, for I had been gone a\ngreat while, and was come again.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cbut what did you come again for?\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t tell,\u201d says I.\n\u201cAnd what do you cry so for?\u201d said he. \u201cI hope you have not lost your\nmoney, have you?\u201d\nNo, I told him, I had not lost it yet, but was afraid I should.\n\u201cAnd does that make you cry?\u201d says he.\nI told him yes, for I knew I should not be able to keep it, but they\nwould cheat me of it, or they would kill me and take it away from me\ntoo.\n\u201cThey?\u201d says he. \u201cWho? What sort of gangs of people art thou with?\u201d\nI told him they were all boys, but very wicked boys; \u201cthieves and\npickpockets,\u201d said I, \u201csuch as stole this letter-case\u2014a sad pack; I\ncan\u2019t abide them.\u201d\n\u201cWell, Jacque,\u201d said he, \u201cwhat shall be done for thee? Will you leave\nit with me? Shall I keep it for you?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said I, \u201cwith all my heart, if you please.\u201d\n\u201cCome, then,\u201d says he, \u201cgive it me; and that you may be sure that I\nhave it, and you shall have it honestly again, I\u2019ll give you a bill for\nit, and for the interest of it, and that you may keep safe enough.\nNay,\u201d added he, \u201cand if you lose it, or anybody takes it from you, none\nshall receive the money but yourself, or any part of it.\u201d\nI presently pulled out all the money, and gave it to him, only keeping\nabout 15s. for myself to buy some clothes; and thus ended the\nconference between us on the first occasion, at least for the first\ntime. Having thus secured my money to my full satisfaction, I was then\nperfectly easy, and accordingly the sad thoughts that afflicted my mind\nbefore began to vanish away.\nThis was enough to let any one see how all the sorrows and anxieties of\nmen\u2019s lives come about; how they rise from their restless pushing at\ngetting of money, and the restless cares of keeping it when they have\ngot it. I that had nothing, and had not known what it was to have had\nanything, knew nothing of the care, either of getting or of keeping it;\nI wanted nothing, who wanted everything; I had no care, no concern\nabout where I should get my victuals or how I should lodge; I knew not\nwhat money was, or what to do with it; and never knew what it was not\nto sleep till I had money to keep, and was afraid of losing it.\nI had, without doubt, an opportunity at this time, if I had not been\ntoo foolish, and too much a child to speak for myself\u2014I had an\nopportunity, I say, to have got into the service, or perhaps to be\nunder some of the care and concern, of these gentlemen; for they seemed\nto be very fond of doing some thing for me, and were surprised at the\ninnocence of my talk to them, as well as at the misery (as they thought\nit) of my condition.\nBut I acted indeed like a child; and leaving my money, as I have said,\nI never went near them for several years after. What course I took, and\nwhat befell me in that interval, has so much variety in it, and carries\nso much instruction in it, that it requires an account of it by itself.\nThe first happy chance that offered itself to me in the world was now\nover. I had got money, but I neither knew the value of it or the use of\nit; the way of living I had begun was so natural to me, I had no notion\nof bettering it; I had not so much as any desire of buying me any\nclothes\u2014no, not so much as a shirt; and much less had I any thought of\ngetting any other lodging than in the glass-house, and loitering about\nthe streets, as I had done; for I knew no good, and had tasted no evil;\nthat is to say, the life I had led being not evil in my account.\nIn this state of ignorance I returned to my really miserable life; so\nit was in itself, and was only not so to me because I did not\nunderstand how to judge of it, and had known no better.\nMy comrade that gave me back the bills, and who, if I had not pressed\nhim, designed never to have restored them, never asked me what I had\ngiven me, but told me if they gave me anything it should be my own;\nfor, as he said he would not run the venture of being seen in the\nrestoring them, I deserved the reward if there was any; neither did he\ntrouble his head with inquiring what I had, or whether I had anything\nor no; so my title to what I had got was clear.\nI went now up and down just as I did before. I had money indeed in my\npocket, but I let nobody know it. I went of errands cheerfully as\nbefore, and accepted of what anybody gave me with as much thankfulness\nas ever. The only difference that I made with myself was, that if I was\nhungry, and nobody employed me, or gave me anything to eat, I did not\nbeg from door to door, as I did at first, but went to a boiling-house,\nas I said once before, and got a mess of broth and a piece of bread,\nprice a halfpenny; very seldom any meat; or if I treated myself, it was\na halfpennyworth of cheese; all which expense did not amount to above\ntwopence or three pence a week; for, contrary to the usage of the rest\nof the tribe, I was extremely frugal, and I had not disposed of any of\nthe guineas which I had at first; neither, as I said to the\ncustom-house gentleman, could I tell what a guinea was made of, or what\nit was worth.\nAfter I had been about a month thus, and had done nothing, my comrade,\nas I called him, came to me one morning. \u201cColonel Jacque,\u201d says he,\n\u201cwhen shall you and I take a walk again?\u201d \u201cWhen you will,\u201d said I.\n\u201cHave you got no business yet?\u201d says he. \u201cNo,\u201d says I; and so one thing\nbringing on another, he told me I was a fortunate wretch, and he\nbelieved I would be so again, but that he must make a new bargain with\nme now; \u201cfor,\u201d says he, \u201ccolonel, the first time we always let a raw\nbrother come in for full share to encourage him; but afterwards, except\nit be when he puts himself forward well and runs equal hazard, he\nstands to courtesy; but as we are gentlemen, we always do very\nhonourably by one another; and if you are willing to trust it or leave\nit to me, I shall do handsomely by you, that you may depend upon.\u201d I\ntold him I was not able to do anything, that was certain, for I did not\nunderstand it, and therefore I could not expect to get anything, but I\nwould do as he bade me; so we walked abroad together.\nWe went no more to the custom-house; it was too bold a venture.\nBesides, I did not care to show myself again, especially with him in\ncompany. But we went directly to the Exchange, and we hankered about in\nCastle Alley, and in Swithin\u2019s Alley, and at the coffee-house doors. It\nwas a very unlucky day, for we got nothing all day but two or three\nhandkerchiefs, and came home to the old lodgings at the glass-house;\nnor had I had anything to eat or drink all day but a piece of bread\nwhich he gave me, and some water at the conduit at the Exchange Gate.\nSo when he was gone from me, for he did not lie in the glass-house, as\nI did, I went to my old broth-house for my usual bait, and refreshed\nmyself, and the next day early went to meet him again, as he appointed\nme.\nBeing early in the morning, he took his walk to Billingsgate, where it\nseems two sorts of people make a great crowd as soon as it is light,\nand at that time a-year rather before daylight; that is to say, crimps\nand the masters of coal-ships, whom they call collier-masters; and,\nsecondly, fishmongers, fish-sellers, and buyers of fish.\nIt was the first of these people that he had his eye upon. So he gives\nme my orders, which was thus: \u201cGo you,\u201d says he, \u201cinto all the\nalehouses as we go along, and observe where any people are telling of\nmoney; and when you find any, come and tell me.\u201d So he stood at the\ndoor, and I went into the houses. As the collier-masters generally sell\ntheir coals at the gate, as they call it, so they generally receive\ntheir money in those alehouses; and it was not long before I brought\nhim word of several. Upon this he went in and made his observations,\nbut found nothing to his purpose. At length I brought him word that\nthere was a man in such a house who had received a great deal of money\nof somebody, I believed of several people, and that it lay all upon the\ntable in heaps, and he was very busy writing down the sums and putting\nit up in several bags. \u201cIs he?\u201d says he; \u201cI\u2019ll warrant him I will have\nsome of it;\u201d and in he goes. He walks up and down the house, which had\nseveral open tables and boxes in it, and he listened to hear, if he\ncould, what the man\u2019s name was; and he heard somebody call him Cullum,\nor some such name. Then he watches his opportunity, and steps up to\nhim, and tells him a long story, that there was two gentlemen at the\nGun tavern sent him to inquire for him, and to tell him they desired to\nspeak with him.\nThe collier-master had his money lay before him, just as I had told\nhim, and had two or three small payments of money, which he had put up\nin little black dirty bags, and lay by themselves; and as it was hardly\nbroad day, he found means in delivering his message to lay his hands\nupon one of those bags, and carry it off perfectly undiscovered.\nWhen we had got it he came out to me, who stood but at the door, and\npulling me by the sleeve, \u201cRun, Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201cfor our lives;\u201d and\naway he scours, and I after him, never resting, or scarce looking about\nme, till we got quite up into Fenchurch Street, through Lime Street\ninto Leadenhall Street, down St. Mary Axe to London Wall, then through\nBishopsgate Street and down Old Bedlam into Moorfields. By this time we\nwere neither of us able to run very fast; nor need we have gone so far,\nfor I never found that anybody pursued us. When we got into Moorfields\nand began to take breath, I asked him what it was frighted him so.\n\u201cFright me, you fool!\u201d says he; \u201cI have got a devilish great bag of\nmoney.\u201d \u201cA bag!\u201d said I. \u201cAy, ay,\u201d said he; \u201clet us get out into the\nfields where nobody can see us, and I\u2019ll show it you.\u201d So away he had\nme through Long Alley, and cross Hog Lane and Holloway Lane, into the\nmiddle of the great field, which since that has been called the\nFarthing Pie-House Fields. There we would have sat down, but it was all\nfull of water; so we went on, crossed the road at Anniseed Cleer, and\nwent into the field where now the great hospital stands; and finding a\nby-place, we sat down, and he pulls out the bag. \u201cThou art a lucky boy,\nJacque,\u201d says he; \u201cthou deservest a good share of this job, truly; for\nit is all along of thy lucky news.\u201d So he pours it all out into my hat;\nfor, as I told you, I now wore a hat.\nHow he did to whip away such a bag of money from any man that was awake\nand in his senses I cannot tell; but there was a great deal in it, and\namong it a paperful by itself. When the paper dropped out of the bag,\n\u201cHold,\u201d says he, \u201cthat is gold!\u201d and began to crow and hollow like a\nmad boy. But there he was baulked; for it was a paper of old\nthirteenpence-halfpenny pieces, half and quarter pieces, with\nninepences and fourpence-halfpennies\u2014all old crooked money, Scotch and\nIrish coin; so he was disappointed in that. But as it was there was\nabout \u00a317 or \u00a318 in the bag, as I understood by him; for I could not\ntell money, not I.\nWell, he parted this money into three; that is to say, into three\nshares\u2014two for himself and one for me, and asked if I was content. I\ntold him yes, I had reason to be contented. Besides, it was so much\nmoney added to that I had left of his former adventure that I knew not\nwhat to do with it, or with myself, while I had so much about me.\nThis was a most exquisite fellow for a thief; for he had the greatest\ndexterity at conveying anything away that he scarce ever pitched upon\nanything in his eye but he carried it off with his hands, and never\nthat I know of missed his aim or was caught in the fact.\nHe was an eminent pickpocket, and very dexterous at ladies\u2019 gold\nwatches; but he generally pushed higher at such desperate things as\nthese; and he came off the cleanest and with the greatest success\nimaginable; and it was in these kinds of the wicked art of thieving\nthat I became his scholar.\nAs we were now so rich, he would not let me lie any longer in the\nglass-house, or go naked and ragged as I had done, but obliged me to\nbuy two shirts, a waistcoat, and a greatcoat; for a greatcoat was more\nfor our purpose in the business we was upon than any other. So I\nclothed myself as he directed, and he took me a lodging in the same\nhouse with him, and we lodged together in a little garret fit for our\nquality.\nSoon after this we walked out again, and then we tried our fortune in\nthe places by the Exchange a second time. Here we began to act\nseparately, and I undertook to walk by myself; and the first thing I\ndid accurately was a trick I played that argued some skill for a new\nbeginner; for I had never seen any business of that kind done before. I\nsaw two gentlemen mighty eager in talk, and one pulled out a\npocket-book two or three times, and then slipt it into his coat-pocket\nagain, and then out it came again, and papers were taken out and others\nwere put in; and then in it went again, and so several times; the man\nbeing still warmly engaged with another man, and two or three others\nstanding hard by them. The last time he put his pocket-book into his\npocket, he might be said to throw it in rather than put it in with his\nhand, and the book lay end-way, resting upon some other book or\nsomething else in his pocket; so that it did not go quite down, but one\ncorner of it was seen above his pocket.\nThis careless way of men putting their pocket-books into a coat-pocket,\nwhich is so easily dived into by the least boy that has been used to\nthe trade, can never be too much blamed. The gentlemen are in great\nhurries, their heads and thoughts entirely taken up, and it is\nimpossible they should be guarded enough against such little\nhawk\u2019s-eyed creatures as we were; and, therefore, they ought either\nnever to put their pocket-books up at all, or to put them up more\nsecure, or to put nothing of value into them. I happened to be just\nopposite to this gentleman in that they call Swithin\u2019s Alley, or that\nalley rather which is between Swithin\u2019s Alley and the Exchange, just by\na passage that goes out of the alley into the Exchange, when, seeing\nthe book pass and repass into the pocket and out of the pocket as\nabove, it came immediately into my head, certainly I might get that\npocket-book out if I were nimble, and I warrant Will would have it, if\nhe saw it go and come to and again as I did. But when I saw it hang by\nthe way, as I have said, \u201cNow it is mine,\u201d said I to myself, and,\ncrossing the alley, I brushed smoothly but closely by the man, with my\nhand down flat to my own side, and, taking hold of it by the corner\nthat appeared, the book came so light into my hand, it was impossible\nthe gentleman should feel the least motion, or anybody else see me take\nit away. I went directly forward into the broad place on the north side\nof the Exchange, then scoured down Bartholomew Lane, so into Tokenhouse\nYard, into the alleys which pass through from thence to London Wall, so\nthrough Moorgate, and sat down on the grass in the second of the\nquarters of Moorfields, towards the middle field; which was the place\nthat Will and I had appointed to meet at if either of us got any booty.\nWhen I came thither Will was not come; but I saw him coming in about\nhalf-an-hour.\nAs soon as Will came to me I asked him what booty he had gotten. He\nlooked pale, and, as I thought, frighted; but he returned, \u201cI have got\nnothing, not I; but, you lucky young dog,\u201d says he, \u201cwhat have you got?\nHave not you got the gentleman\u2019s pocket-book in Swithin\u2019s Alley?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d says I, and laughed at him; \u201cwhy, how did you know it?\u201d \u201cKnow\nit!\u201d says he. \u201cWhy, the gentleman is raving and half distracted; he\nstamps and cries and tears his very clothes. He says he is utterly\nundone and ruined, and the folks in the alley say there is I know not\nhow many thousand pounds in it. What can be in it?\u201d says Will. \u201cCome,\nlet us see.\u201d\nWell, we lay close in the grass in the middle of the quarter, so that\nnobody minded us; and so we opened the pocket-book, and there was a\ngreat many bills and notes under men\u2019s hands; some goldsmiths\u2019, and\nsome belonging to insurance offices, as they call them, and the like.\nBut that which was, it seems, worth all the rest was that, in one of\nthe folds of the cover of the book, where there was a case with several\npartitions, there was a paper full of loose diamonds. The man, as we\nunderstood afterward, was a Jew, who dealt in such goods, and who\nindeed ought to have taken more care of the keeping of them.\nNow was this booty too great, even for Will himself, to manage; for\nthough by this time I was come to understand things better than I did\nformerly, when I knew not what belonged to money, yet Will was better\nskilled by far in those things than I. But this puzzled him too, as\nwell as me. Now were we something like the cock in the fable; for all\nthese bills, and I think there was one bill of Sir Henry Furness\u2019s for\n\u00a31200, and all these diamonds, which were worth about \u00a3150, as they\nsaid\u2014I say, all these things were of no value to us: one little purse\nof gold would have been better to us than all of it. \u201cBut come,\u201d says\nWill, \u201clet us look over the bills for a little one.\u201d\nWe looked over all the bills, and among them we found a bill under a\nman\u2019s hand for \u00a332. \u201cCome,\u201d says Will, \u201clet us go and inquire where\nthis man lives.\u201d So he went into the City again, and Will went to the\npost-house, and asked there. They told him he lived at Temple Bar.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says Will, \u201cI will venture. I\u2019ll go and receive the money; it\nmay be he has not remembered to send to stop the payment there.\u201d\nBut it came into his thoughts to take another course. \u201cCome,\u201d says\nWill, \u201cI\u2019ll go back to the alley, and see if I can hear anything of\nwhat has happened, for I believe the hurry is not over yet.\u201d It seems\nthe man who lost the book was carried into the King\u2019s Head tavern at\nthe end of that alley, and a great crowd was about the door.\nAway goes Will, and watches and waits about the place; and then, seeing\nseveral people together, for they were not all dispersed, he asks one\nor two what was the matter. They tell him a long story of a gentleman\nwho had lost his pocket-book, with a great bag of diamonds in it, and\nbills for a great many thousand pounds, and I know not what; and that\nthey had been just crying it, and had offered \u00a3100 reward to any one\nwho would discover and restore it.\n\u201cI wish,\u201d said he to one of them that parleyed with him, \u201cI did but\nknow who has it; I don\u2019t doubt but I could help him to it again. Does\nhe remember nothing of anybody, boy or fellow, that was near him? If he\ncould but describe him, it might do.\u201d Somebody that overheard him was\nso forward to assist the poor gentleman that they went up and let him\nknow what a young fellow, meaning Will, had been talking at the door;\nand down comes another gentleman from him, and, taking Will aside,\nasked him what he had said about it. Will was a grave sort of a young\nman, that, though he was an old soldier at the trade, had yet nothing\nof it in his countenance; and he answered that he was concerned in\nbusiness where a great many of the gangs of little pickpockets haunted,\nand if he had but the least description of the person they suspected,\nhe durst say he could find him out, and might perhaps get the things\nagain for him. Upon this he desired him to go up with him to the\ngentleman, which he did accordingly; and there, he said, he sat leaning\nhis head back to the chair, pale as a cloth, disconsolate to a strange\ndegree, and, as Will described him, just like one under a sentence.\nWhen they came to ask him whether he had seen no boy or shabby fellow\nlurking near where he stood, or passing, or repassing, and the like, he\nanswered, \u201cNo, not any.\u201d Neither could he remember that anybody had\ncome near him. \u201cThen,\u201d said Will, \u201cit will be very hard, if not\nimpossible, to find them out. However,\u201d said Will, \u201cif you think it\nworth while, I will put myself among those rogues, though,\u201d says he, \u201cI\ncare not for being seen among them. But I will put in among them, and\nif it be in any of those gangs, it is ten to one but I shall hear\nsomething of it.\u201d\nThey asked him then if he had heard what terms the gentleman had\noffered to have it restored; he answered, \u201cNo\u201d (though he had been told\nat the door). They answered, he had offered \u00a3100. \u201cThat is too much,\u201d\nsays Will; \u201cbut if you please to leave it to me, I shall either get it\nfor you for less than that, or not be able to get it for you at all.\u201d\nThen the losing gentleman said to one of the other, \u201cTell him that if\nhe can get it lower, the overplus shall be to himself.\u201d William said he\nwould be very glad to do the gentleman such a service, and would leave\nthe reward to himself. \u201cWell, young man,\u201d says one of the gentlemen,\n\u201cwhatever you appoint to the young artist that has done this roguery\n(for I warrant he is an artist, let it be who it will), he shall be\npaid, if it be within the \u00a3100, and the gentleman is willing to give\nyou \u00a350 besides for your pains.\u201d\n\u201cTruly, sir,\u201d says Will very gravely, \u201cit was by mere chance that,\ncoming by the door, and seeing the crowd, I asked what the matter was.\nBut if I should be instrumental to get the unfortunate gentleman his\npocket-book and the things in it again, I shall be very glad; nor am I\nso rich neither, sir, but \u00a350 is very well worth my while too.\u201d Then he\ntook directions who to come to, and who to give his account to if he\nlearned anything, and the like.\nWill stayed so long that, as he and I agreed, I went home, and he did\nnot come to me till night; for we had considered before that it would\nnot be proper to come from them directly to me, lest they should follow\nhim and apprehend me. If he had made no advances towards a treaty, he\nwould have come back in half-an-hour, as we agreed; but staying late,\nwe met at our night rendezvous, which was in Rosemary Lane.\nWhen he came he gave an account of all the discourse, and particularly\nwhat a consternation the gentleman was in who lost the pocket-book, and\nthat he did not doubt but we should get a good round sum for the\nrecovery of it.\nWe consulted all the evening about it, and concluded he should let them\nhear nothing of them the next day at all; and that the third day he\nshould go, but should make no discovery; only that he had got a scent\nof it, and that he believed he should have it, and make it appear as\ndifficult as possible, and to start as many objections as he could.\nAccordingly, the third day after he met with the gentleman, who, he\nfound, had been uneasy at his long stay, and told him they were afraid\nthat he only flattered them to get from them, and that they had been\ntoo easy in letting him go without a further examination.\nHe took upon him to be very grave with them, and told them that if that\nwas what he was like to have for being so free as to tell them he\nthought he might serve them, they might see that they had wronged him,\nand were mistaken by his coming again to them; that if they thought\nthey could do any thing by examining him, they might go about it, if\nthey pleased, now; that all he had to say to them was, that he knew\nwhere some of the young rogues haunted who were famous for such things;\nand that by some inquiries, offering them money, and the like, he\nbelieved they would be brought to betray one another, and that so he\nmight pick it out for them; and this he would say before a justice of\npeace, if they thought fit; and then all that he had to say further to\nthem was to tell them he had lost a day or two in their service, and\nhad got nothing but to be suspected for his pains, and that after that\nhe had done, and they might seek their goods where they could find\nthem.\nThey began to listen a little upon that, and asked him if he could give\nthem any hopes of recovering their loss. He told them that he was not\nafraid to tell them that he believed he had heard some news of them,\nand that what he had done had prevented all the bills being burnt, book\nand all; but that now he ought not to be asked any more questions till\nthey should be pleased to answer him a question or two. They told him\nthey would give him any satisfaction they could, and bid him tell what\nhe desired.\n\u201cWhy, sir,\u201d says he, \u201chow can you expect any thief that had robbed you\nto such a considerable value as this would come and put himself into\nyour hands, confess he had your goods, and restore them to you, if you\ndo not give them assurance that you will not only give them the reward\nyou agreed to, but also give assurance that they shall not be stopped,\nquestioned, or called to account before a magistrate?\u201d\nThey said they would give all possible assurance of it. \u201cNay,\u201d says he,\n\u201cI do not know what assurance you are able to give; for when a poor\nfellow is in your clutches and has shown you your goods, you may seize\nupon him for a thief, and it is plain he must be so. Then you go, take\naway your goods, send him to prison, and what amends can he have of you\nafterward?\u201d\nThey were entirely confounded with the difficulty; they asked him to\ntry if he could get the things into his hands, and they would pay him\nthe money before he let them go out of his hand, and he should go away\nhalf-an-hour before they went out of the room.\n\u201cNo, gentlemen,\u201d says he, \u201cthat won\u2019t do now. If you had talked so\nbefore you had talked of apprehending me for nothing, I should have\ntaken your words; but now it is plain you have had such a thought in\nyour heads, and how can I, or any one else, be assured of safety?\u201d\nWell, they thought of a great many particulars, but nothing would do.\nAt length the other people who were present put in, that they should\ngive security to him, by a bond of \u00a31000, that they would not give the\nperson any trouble whatsoever. He pretended they could not be bound,\nnor could their obligation be of any value, and that their own goods\nbeing once seen, they might seize them. \u201cAnd what would it signify,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cto put a poor pick pocket to sue for his reward?\u201d They could\nnot tell what to say, but told him that he should take the things of\nthe boy, if it was a boy, and they would be bound to pay him the money\npromised. He laughed at them, and said, \u201cNo, gentlemen; as I am not the\nthief, so I shall be very loth to put myself in the thief\u2019s stead and\nlie at your mercy.\u201d\nThey told him they knew not what to do then, and that it would be very\nhard he would not trust them at all. He said he was very willing to\ntrust them and to serve them, but that it would be very hard to be\nruined and charged with the theft for endeavouring to serve them.\nThey then offered to give it him under their hands that they did not in\nthe least suspect him; that they would never charge him with anything\nabout it; that they acknowledged he went about to inquire after the\ngoods at their request; and that if he produced them, they would pay\nhim so much money, at or before the delivery of them, without obliging\nhim to name or produce that person he had them from.\nUpon this writing, signed by three gentlemen who were present, and by\nthe person in particular who lost the things, the young gentleman told\nthem he would go and do his utmost to get the pocket-book and all that\nwas in it.\nThen he desired that they would in writing, beforehand, give him a\nparticular of all the several things that were in the book, that he\nmight not have it said, when he produced it, that there was not all;\nand he would have the said writing sealed up, and he would make the\nbook be sealed up when it was given to him. This they agreed to; and\nthe gentleman accordingly drew up a particular of all the bills that he\nremembered, as he said, was in the book, and also of the diamonds, as\nfollows:\u2014\nOne bill under Sir Henry Furness\u2019s hand for \u00a31200.\nOne bill under Sir Charles Duncomb\u2019s hand for \u00a3800, \u00a3250 endorsed off =\nOne bill under the hand of J. Tassel, goldsmith, \u00a3165.\nOne bill of Sir Francis Child, \u00a339.\nOne bill of one Stewart, that kept a wager-office and insurance, \u00a3350.\nA paper containing thirty-seven loose diamonds, value about \u00a3250.\nA little paper containing three large rough diamonds, and one large one\npolished and cut, value \u00a3185.\nFor all these things they promised, first, to give him whatever he\nagreed with the thief to give him, not exceeding \u00a350, and to give him\n\u00a350 more for himself for procuring them.\nNow he had his cue, and now he came to me, and told me honestly the\nwhole story as above. So I delivered him the book, and he told me that\nhe thought it was reasonable we should not take the full sum, because\nhe would seem to have done them some service, and so make them the\neasier. All this I agreed to; so he went the next day to the place, and\nthe gentlemen met him very punctually.\nHe told them at the first word he had done their work, and, as he\nhoped, to their mind; and told them, if it had not been for the\ndiamonds, he could have got all for \u00a310; but that the diamonds had\nshone so bright in the boy\u2019s imagination that he talked of running away\nto France or Holland, and living there all his days like a gentleman;\nat which they laughed. \u201cHowever, gentlemen,\u201d said he, \u201chere is the\nbook;\u201d and so pulled it out, wrapt up in a dirty piece of a coloured\nhandkerchief, as black as the street could make it, and sealed with a\npiece of sorry wax, and the impression of a farthing for a seal.\nUpon this, the note being also unsealed, at the same time he pulled\nopen the dirty rag, and showed the gentleman his pocket-book; at which\nhe was so over-surprised with joy, notwithstanding all the preparatory\ndiscourse, that he was fain to call for a glass of wine or brandy to\ndrink, to keep him from fainting.\nThe book being opened, the paper of diamonds was first taken out, and\nthere they were every one; only the little paper was by itself; and the\nrough diamonds that were in it were loose among the rest, but he owned\nthey were all there safe.\nThen the bills were called over one by one, and they found one bill for\n\u00a380 more than the account mentioned, besides several papers which were\nnot for money, though of consequence to the gentleman; and he\nacknowledged that all was very honestly returned. \u201cAnd now, young man,\u201d\nsaid they, \u201cyou shall see we will deal as honestly by you;\u201d and so, in\nthe first place, they gave him \u00a350 for himself, and then they told out\nthe \u00a350 for me.\nHe took the \u00a350 for himself, and put it up in his pocket, wrapping it\nin paper, it being all in gold; then he began to tell over the other\n\u00a350. But when he had told out \u00a330, \u201cHold, gentlemen,\u201d said he, \u201cas I\nhave acted fairly for you, so you shall have no reason to say I do not\ndo so to the end. I have taken \u00a330, and for so much I agreed with the\nboy; and so there is \u00a320 of your money again.\u201d\nThey stood looking one at another a good while, as surprised at the\nhonesty of it; for till that time they were not quite without a secret\nsuspicion that he was the thief; but that piece of policy cleared up\nhis reputation to them. The gentleman that had got his bills said\nsoftly to one of them, \u201cGive it him all.\u201d But the other said (softly\ntoo), \u201cNo, no; as long as he has got it abated, and is satisfied with\nthe \u00a350 you have given him, \u2019tis very well; let it go as it \u2019tis.\u201d This\nwas not spoke so softly but he heard it, and said, \u201cNo,\u201d too; \u201cI am\nvery well satisfied; I am glad I have got them for you;\u201d and so they\nbegan to part.\nBut just before they were going away one of the gentlemen said to him,\n\u201cYoung man, come, you see we are just to you, and have done fairly, as\nyou have also; and we will not desire you to tell us who this cunning\nfellow is that got such a prize from this gentleman; but as you have\ntalked with him, prithee, can you tell us nothing of how he did it,\nthat we may beware of such sparks again?\u201d\n\u201cSir,\u201d says Will, \u201cwhen I shall tell you what they say, and how the\nparticular case stood, the gentleman would blame himself more than\nanybody else, or as much at least. The young rogue that catched this\nprize was out, it seems, with a comrade, who is a nimble, experienced\npickpocket as most in London; but at that time the artist was somewhere\nat a distance, and this boy never had picked a pocket in his life\nbefore; but he says he stood over against the passage into the\nExchange, on the east side, and the gentleman stood just by the\npassage; that he was very earnest in talking with some other gentleman,\nand often pulled out this book and opened it, and took papers out and\nput others in, and returned it into his coat-pocket; that the last time\nit hitched at the pocket-hole, or stopt at something that was in the\npocket, and hung a little out, which the boy, who had watched it a good\nwhile perceiving, he passes by close to the gentleman, and carried it\nsmoothly off, without the gentleman\u2019s perceiving it at all.\u201d\nHe went on, and said, \u201c\u2019Tis very strange gentlemen should put\npocket-books which have such things in them into those loose pockets,\nand in so careless a manner.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s very true,\u201d says the gentleman;\nand so, with some other discourse of no great signification, he came\naway to me.\nWe were now so rich that we scarce knew what to do with our money; at\nleast I did not, for I had no relations, no friends, nowhere to put\nanything I had but in my pocket. As for Will, he had a poor mother, but\nwicked as himself, and he made her rich and glad with his good success.\nWe divided this booty equally; for though the gaining it was mine, yet\nthe improving of it was his, and his management brought the money; for\nneither he or I could have made anything proportionable of the thing\nany other way. As for the bills, there was no room to doubt but unless\nthey had been carried that minute to the goldsmith\u2019s for the money, he\nwould have come with notice to stop the payment, and perhaps have come\nwhile the money was receiving, and have taken hold of the person. And\nthen as to the diamonds, there had been no offering them to sale by us\npoor boys to anybody but those who were our known receivers, and they\nwould have given us nothing for them compared to what they were worth;\nfor, as I understood afterwards, those who made a trade of buying\nstolen goods took care to have false weights, and cheat the poor devil\nthat stole them at least an ounce in three.\nUpon the whole, we made the best of it many ways besides. I had a\nstrange kind of uninstructed conscience at that time; for though I made\nno scruple of getting anything in this manner from anybody, yet I could\nnot bear destroying their bills and papers, which were things that\nwould do them a great deal of hurt, and do me no good; and I was so\ntormented about it that I could not rest night or day while I made the\npeople easy from whom the things were taken.\nI was now rich, so rich that I knew not what to do with my money or\nwith myself. I had lived so near and so close, that although, as I\nsaid, I did now and then lay out twopence or threepence for mere\nhunger, yet I had so many people who, as I said, employed me, and who\ngave me victuals and sometimes clothes, that in a whole year I had not\nquite spent the 15s. which I had saved of the custom-house gentleman\u2019s\nmoney; and I had the four guineas which was of the first booty before\nthat still in my pocket\u2014I mean the money that I let fall into the tree.\nBut now I began to look higher; and though Will and I went abroad\nseveral times together, yet, when small things offered, as\nhandkerchiefs and such trifles, we would not meddle with them, not\ncaring to run the risk for small matters. It fell out one day that, as\nwe were strolling about in West Smithfield on a Friday, there happened\nto be an ancient country gentleman in the market, selling some very\nlarge bullocks. It seems they came out of Sussex, for we heard him say\nthere were no such bullocks in the whole county of Suffolk. His\nworship, for so they called him, had received the money for these\nbullocks at a tavern, whose sign I forget now, and having some of it in\na bag, and the bag in his hand, he was taken with a sudden fit of\ncoughing, and stands to cough, resting his hand with the bag of money\nin it upon the bulk-head of a shop just by the Cloister Gate in\nSmithfield; that is to say, within three or four doors of it. We were\nboth just behind him. Says Will to me, \u201cStand ready.\u201d Upon this he\nmakes an artificial stumble, and falls with his head just against the\nold gentleman in the very moment when he was coughing, ready to be\nstrangled, and quite spent for want of breath.\nThe violence of the blow beat the old gentleman quite down. The bag of\nmoney did not immediately fly out of his hand, but I ran to get hold of\nit, and gave it a quick snatch, pulled it clean away, and ran like the\nwind down the Cloisters with it; turned on the left hand, as soon as I\nwas through, and cut into Little Britain, so into Bartholomew Close,\nthen across Aldersgate Street, through Paul\u2019s Alley into Redcross\nStreet, and so across all the streets, through innumerable alleys, and\nnever stopped till I got into the second quarter of Moorfields, our old\nagreed rendezvous.\nWill, in the meantime, fell down with the old gentleman, but soon got\nup. The old knight, for such, it seems, he was, was frighted with the\nfall, and his breath so stopped with his cough that he could not\nrecover himself to speak till some time; during which nimble Will was\ngot up again, and walked off. Nor could he call out, \u201cStop thief,\u201d or\ntell anybody he had lost anything for a good while; but, coughing\nvehemently and looking red, till he was almost black in the face, he\ncried, \u201cThe ro\u2014hegh, hegh, hegh\u2014the rogues\u2014hegh\u2014have got\u2014hegh, hegh,\nhegh, hegh, hegh, hegh;\u201d then he would get a little breath, and at it\nagain: \u201cThe rogues\u2014hegh, hegh;\u201d and, after a great many heghs and\nrogues, he brought it out\u2014\u201chave got away my bag of money!\u201d\nAll this while the people understood nothing of the matter; and as for\nthe rogues indeed, they had time enough to get clear away, and in about\nan hour Will came to the rendezvous. There we sat down in the grass\nagain, and turned out the money, which proved to be eight guineas, and\n\u00a35, 12s. in silver, so that it made just \u00a314 together. This we shared\nupon the spot, and went to work the same day for more; but whether it\nwas that, being flushed with our success, we were not so vigilant, or\nthat no other opportunity offered, I know not, but we got nothing more\nthat night, nor so much as anything offered itself for an attempt.\nWe took many walks of this kind, sometimes together, at a little\ndistance from one another, and several small hits we made; but we were\nso flushed with our success that truly we were above meddling with\ntrifles, as I said before\u2014no, not such things that others would have\nbeen glad of; nothing but pocket-books, letter-cases, or sums of money\nwould move us.\nThe next adventure was in the dusk of the evening, in a court which\ngoes out of Gracechurch Street into Lombard Street, where the Quakers\u2019\nmeeting house is. There was a young fellow who, as we learned\nafterward, was a woollen-draper\u2019s apprentice in Gracechurch Street. It\nseems he had been receiving a sum of money which was very considerable,\nand he comes to a goldsmith\u2019s shop in Lombard Street with it; paid in\nthe most of it there; insomuch that it grew dark, and the goldsmith\nbegan to be shutting in shop, and candles to be lighted. We watched him\nin there, and stood on the other side of the way to see what he did.\nWhen he had paid in all the money he intended, he stayed still some\ntime longer, to take notes, as I supposed, for what he had paid; and by\nthis time it was still darker than before. At last he comes out of the\nshop, with still a pretty large bag under his arm, and walks over into\nthe court, which was then very dark. In the middle of the court is a\nboarded entry, and farther, at the end of it, a threshold; and as soon\nas he had set his foot over the threshold, he was to turn on his left\nhand into Gracechurch Street.\n\u201cKeep up,\u201d says Will to me; \u201cbe nimble;\u201d and as soon as he had said so\nhe flies at the young man, and gives him such a violent thrust that\npushed him forward with too great a force for him to stand; and as he\nstrove to recover, the threshold took his feet, and he fell forward\ninto the other part of the court, as if he had flown in the air, with\nhis head lying towards the Quakers\u2019 meeting-house. I stood ready, and\npresently felt out the bag of money, which I heard fall; for it flew\nout of his hand, he having his life to save, not his money. I went\nforward with the money, and Will, that threw him down, finding I had\nit, run backward, and as I made along Fenchurch Street, Will overtook\nme, and we scoured home together. The poor young man was hurt a little\nwith the fall, and reported to his master, as we heard afterward, that\nhe was knocked down, which was not true, for neither Will or I had any\nstick in our hands; but the master of the youth was, it seems, so very\nthankful that his young man was not knocked down before he paid the\nrest of the money (which was above \u00a3100 more) to the goldsmith, who was\nSir John Sweetapple, that he made no great noise at the loss he had,\nand, as we heard afterward, only warned his apprentice to be more\ncareful and come no more through such places in the dark; whereas the\nman had really no such deliverance as he imagined, for we saw him\nbefore, when he had all the money about him; but it was no time of day\nfor such work as we had to do, so that he was in no danger before.\nThis booty amounted to \u00a329, 16s., which was \u00a314 18s. apiece, and added\nexceedingly to my store, which began now to be very much too big for my\nmanagement; and indeed I began to be now full of care for the\npreservation of what I had got. I wanted a trusty friend to commit it\nto; but where was such a one to be found by a poor boy bred up among\nthieves? If I should have let any honest body know that I had so much\nmoney, they would have asked me how I came by it, and would have been\nafraid to take it into their hands, lest I being some time or other\ncatched in my rogueries, they should be counted the receivers of stolen\ngoods and the encouragers of a thief.\nWe had, however, in the meantime a great many other successful\nenterprises, some of one kind, some of another, and were never so much\nas in danger of being apprehended; but my companion Will, who was now\ngrown a man, and encouraged by these advantages, fell into quite\nanother vein of wickedness, getting acquainted with a wretched gang of\nfellows that turned their hands to everything that was vile.\nWill was a lusty, strong fellow, and withal very bold and daring, would\nfight anybody and venture upon anything; and I found he began to be\nabove the mean rank of a poor pickpocket, so I saw him but seldom.\nHowever, once coming to me in a very friendly manner, and asking me how\nI went on, I told him that I used the old trade still, that I had had\ntwo or three good jobs: one with a young woman, whose pocket I had\npicked of eleven guineas; and another, a countrywoman, just come out of\na stage-coach, seeing her pull out her bag to pay the coachman; and\nthat I followed her till I got an opportunity, and slipped it out so\nneatly that though there was \u00a38, 17s. in it, yet she never felt it go.\nAnd several other jobs I told him of, by which I made pretty good\npurchase. \u201cI always said you were a lucky boy, Colonel Jacque,\u201d says\nhe; \u201cbut, come, you are grown almost a man now, and you shall not be\nalways at play at push-pin. I am got into better business, I assure\nyou, and you shall come into it too. I\u2019ll bring you into a brave gang,\nJacque,\u201d says he, \u201cwhere you shall see we shall be all gentlemen.\u201d\nThen he told me the trade itself, in short, which was with a set of\nfellows that had two of the most desperate works upon their hands that\nbelonged to the whole art of thieving; that is to say, in the evening\nthey were footpads, and in the night they were housebreakers. Will told\nme so many plausible stories, and talked of such great things, that, in\nshort, I, who had been always used to do anything he bid me do, went\nwith him without any hesitation.\nNothing is more certain than that hitherto, being partly from the gross\nignorance of my untaught childhood, as I observed before, partly from\nthe hardness and wickedness of the company I kept; and add to these\nthat it was the business I might be said to be brought up to\u2014I had, I\nsay, all the way hitherto, no manner of thoughts about the good or evil\nof what I was embarked in; consequently I had no sense of conscience,\nno reproaches upon my mind for having done amiss.\nYet I had something in me, by what secret influence I knew not, kept me\nfrom the other degrees of raking and vice, and, in short, from the\ngeneral wickedness of the rest of my companions. For example, I never\nused any ill words, nobody ever heard me swear, nor was I given to\ndrink, or to love strong drink; and I cannot omit a circumstance that\nvery much served to prevent it. I had a strange original notion, as I\nhave mentioned in its place, of my being a gentleman; and several\nthings had casually happened in my way to increase this fancy of mine.\nIt happened one day, that being in the Glass-house Yard, between\nRosemary Lane and Ratcliff Highway, there came a man dressed very well,\nand with a coach attending him, and he came (as I suppose) to buy\nglass-bottles, or some other goods, as they sold; and in bargaining for\nhis goods, he swore most horrid oaths at every two or three words. At\nlength the master of the glass-house, an ancient, grave gentleman, took\nthe liberty to reprove him, which at first made him swear the worse.\nAfter a while the gentleman was a little calmer, but still he swore\nvery much, though not so bad as at first. After some time the master of\nthe glass-house turned from him\u2014\u201cReally, sir,\u201d says the good old\ngentleman, \u201cyou swear so, and take God\u2019s name in vain so, that I cannot\nbear to stay with you. I would rather you would let my goods alone and\ngo somewhere else. I hope you won\u2019t take it ill, but I don\u2019t desire to\ndeal with anybody that does so. I am afraid my glass-house should fall\non your head while you stay in it.\u201d\nThe gentleman grew good-humoured at the reproof, and said, \u201cWell, come,\ndon\u2019t go away; I won\u2019t swear any more,\u201d says he, \u201cif I can help it; for\nI own,\u201d says he, \u201cI should not do it.\u201d\nWith that the old gentleman looked up at him, and, returning, \u201cReally,\nsir,\u201d says he, \u201c\u2019tis pity you, that seem to be a fine gentleman,\nwell-bred and good-humoured, should accustom yourself to such a hateful\npractice. Why, \u2019tis not like a gentleman to swear; \u2019tis enough for my\nblack wretches that work there at the furnace, or for these ragged,\nnaked, blackguard boys,\u201d pointing at me, and some others of the dirty\ncrew that lay in the ashes. \u201c\u2019Tis bad enough for them,\u201d says he, \u201cand\nthey ought to be corrected for it, too; but for a man of breeding,\nsir,\u201d says he, \u201ca gentleman, it ought to be looked upon as below them.\nGentlemen know better, and are taught better, and it is plain you know\nbetter. I beseech you, sir, when you are tempted to swear, always ask\nyourself, \u2018Is this like a gentleman? Does this become me as a\ngentleman?\u2019 Do but ask yourself that question, and your reason will\nprevail\u2014you will soon leave it off.\u201d\nI heard all this, and it made the blood run chill in my veins when he\nsaid swearing was only fit for such as we were. In short, it made as\ngreat an impression upon me as it did upon the gentleman; and yet he\ntook it very kindly too, and thanked the old gentleman for his advice.\nBut from that time forward I never had the least inclination to\nswearing or ill words, and abhorred it when I heard other boys do it.\nAs to drinking, I had no opportunity; for I had nothing to drink but\nwater, or small-beer that anybody gave me in charity, for they seldom\ngave away strong beer; and after I had money, I neither desired strong\nbeer or cared to part with my money to buy it.\nThen as to principle, \u2019tis true I had no foundation laid in me by\neducation; and being early led by my fate into evil, I had the less\nsense of its being evil left upon my mind. But when I began to grow to\nan age of understanding, and to know that I was a thief, growing up in\nall manner of villainy, and ripening apace for the gallows, it came\noften into my thoughts that I was going wrong, that I was in the\nhigh-road to the devil; and several times I would stop short, and ask\nmyself if this was the life of a gentleman.\nBut these little things wore off again as often as they came on, and I\nfollowed the old trade again, especially when Will came to prompt me,\nas I have observed, for he was a kind of a guide to me in all these\nthings; and I had, by custom and application, together with seeing his\nway, learned to be as acute a workman as my master.\nBut to go back where I left off. Will came to me, as I have said, and\ntelling me how much better business he was fallen into, would have me\ngo along with him, and I should be a gentleman. Will, it seems,\nunderstood that word in a quite different manner from me; for his\ngentleman was nothing more or less than a gentleman thief, a villain of\na higher degree than a pickpocket, and one that might do something more\nwicked, and better entitling him to the gallows, than could be done in\nour way. But my gentleman that I had my eye upon was another thing\nquite, though I could not really tell how to describe it either.\nHowever, the word took with me, and I went with him. We were neither of\nus old. Will was about twenty-four; and as for me, I was now about\neighteen, and pretty tall of my age.\nThe first time I went with him, he brought me into the company only of\ntwo more young fellows. We met at the lower part of Gray\u2019s Inn Lane,\nabout an hour before sunset, and went out into the fields toward a\nplace called Pindar of Wakefield, where are abundance of brick-kilns.\nHere it was agreed to spread from the field-path to the roadway, all\nthe way towards Pancras Church, to observe any chance game, as they\ncalled it, which they might shoot flying. Upon the path within the bank\non the side of the road going towards Kentish Town, two of our gang,\nWill and one of the others, met a single gentleman walking apace\ntowards the town. Being almost dark, Will cried, \u201cMark, ho!\u201d which, it\nseems, was the word at which we were all to stand still at a distance,\ncome in if he wanted help, and give a signal if anything appeared that\nwas dangerous.\nWill steps up to the gentleman, stops him, and put the question; that\nis, \u201cSir, your money?\u201d The gentleman, seeing he was alone, struck at\nhim with his cane; but Will, a nimble, strong fellow, flew in upon him,\nand with struggling got him down. Then he begged for his life, Will\nhaving told him with an oath that he would cut his throat. In that\nmoment, while this was doing, comes a hackney-coach along the road, and\nthe fourth man, who was that way, cries, \u201cMark, ho!\u201d which was to\nintimate that it was a prize, not a surprise. And accordingly the next\nman went up to assist him, where they stopped the coach, which had a\ndoctor of physic and a surgeon in it, who had been to visit some\nconsiderable patient, and, I suppose, had had considerable fees. For\nhere they got two good purses, one with eleven or twelve guineas, the\nother six with some pocket-money, two watches, one diamond ring, and\nthe surgeon\u2019s plaster-box, which was most of it full of silver\ninstruments.\nWhile they were at this work, Will kept the man down who was under him;\nand though he promised not to kill him, unless he offered to make a\nnoise, yet he would not let him stir till he heard the noise of the\ncoach going on again, by which he knew the job was over on that side.\nThen he carried him a little out of the way, tied his hands behind him,\nand bade him lie still and make no noise, and he would come back in\nhalf-an-hour and untie him, upon his word; but if he cried out, he\nwould come back and kill him.\nThe poor man promised to lie still and make no noise, and did so; and\nhad not above 11s. 6d. in his pocket, which Will took, and came back to\nthe rest; but while they were together, I, who was on the side of the\nPindar of Wakefield, cried, \u201cMark, ho!\u201d too.\nWhat I saw was a couple of poor women, one a kind of a nurse, and the\nother a maid-servant, going for Kentish Town. As Will knew that I was\nbut young at the work, he came flying to me, and seeing how easy a\nbargain it was, he said, \u201cGo, colonel, fall to work.\u201d I went up to\nthem, and speaking to the elderly woman, \u201cNurse,\u201d said I, \u201cdon\u2019t be in\nsuch haste. I want to speak with you;\u201d at which they both stopped, and\nlooked a little frighted. \u201cDon\u2019t be frighted, sweetheart,\u201d said I to\nthe maid; \u201ca little of that money in the bottom of your pocket will\nmake all easy, and I will do you no harm.\u201d By this time Will came up to\nus, for they did not see him before; then they began to scream out.\n\u201cHold!\u201d says I; \u201cmake no noise, unless you have a mind to force us to\nmurder you whether we will or no. Give me your money presently, and\nmake no words, and we shan\u2019t hurt you.\u201d Upon this the poor maid pulled\nout 5s. 6d., and the old woman a guinea and a shilling, crying heartily\nfor her money, and said it was all she had left in the world. Well, we\ntook it for all that, though it made my very heart bleed to see what\nagony the poor woman was in at parting with it, and I asked her where\nshe lived. She said her name was Smith, and she lived at Kentish Town.\nI said nothing to her, but bid them go on about their business, and I\ngave Will the money. So in a few minutes we were all together again.\nSays one of the other rogues, \u201cCome, this is well enough for one road;\nit\u2019s time to be gone.\u201d So we jogged away, crossing the fields, out of\nthe path towards Tottenham Court. \u201cBut hold!\u201d says Will; \u201cI must go and\nuntie the man.\u201d \u201cD\u2014n him,\u201d says one of them, \u201clet him lie.\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d says\nWill, \u201cI won\u2019t be worse than my word; I will untie him.\u201d So he went to\nthe place, but the man was gone. Either he had untied himself, or\nsomebody had passed by, and he had called for help, and so was untied;\nfor he could not find him, nor make him hear, though he ventured to\ncall twice for him aloud.\nThis made us hasten away the faster, and getting into Tottenham Court\nRoad, they thought it was a little too near, so they made into the town\nat St. Giles\u2019s, and crossing to Piccadilly, went to Hyde Park gate.\nHere they ventured to rob another coach; that is to say, one of the two\nother rogues and Will did it, between the Park gate and Knightsbridge.\nThere was in it only a gentleman and a whore that he had picked up, it\nseems, at the Spring Garden, a little farther. They took the\ngentleman\u2019s money, his watch, and his silver-hilted sword; but when\nthey come to the slut, she damned and cursed them for robbing the\ngentleman of his money and leaving him none for her. As for herself,\nshe had not one sixpenny piece about her, though she was indeed well\nenough dressed too.\nHaving made this adventure, we left that road too, and went over the\nfields to Chelsea. In the way from Westminster to Chelsea we met three\ngentlemen, but they were too strong for us to meddle with. They had\nbeen afraid to come over the fields so late (for by this time it was\neight o\u2019clock, and though the moon gave some light, yet it was too late\nand too dark to be safe); so they hired three men at Chelsea, two with\npitchforks, and the third, a waterman, with a boathook staff to guard\nthem. We would have steered clear of them, and cared not to have them\nsee us, if we could help it. But they did see us, and cried, \u201cWho comes\nthere?\u201d We answered, \u201cFriends;\u201d and so they went on, to our great\nsatisfaction.\nWhen we came to Chelsea, it seems we had other work to do, which I had\nnot been made privy to; and this was a house to be robbed. They had\nsome intelligence, it seems, with a servant in the house, who was of\ntheir gang. This rogue was a waiting-man, or footman, and he had a\nwatchword to let them in by; but this fellow, not for want of being a\nvillain, but by getting drunk and not minding his part of the work,\ndisappointed us. For he had promised to rise at two o\u2019clock in the\nmorning and let us all in; but, being very drunk, and not come in at\neleven o\u2019clock, his master ordered him to be shut out and the doors\nlocked up, and charged the other servants not to let him in upon any\nterms whatsoever.\nWe came about the house at one o\u2019clock to make our observations,\nintending to go and lie under Beaufort House wall till the clock struck\ntwo, and then to come again; but, behold! when we came to the house,\nthere lay the fellow at the door fast asleep, and very drunk. Will,\nwho, I found, was the leader in all these things, waked the fellow,\nwho, as he had had about two hours\u2019 sleep, was a little come to\nhimself, and told them the misfortune, as he called it, and that he\ncould not get in. They had some instruments about them, by which they\ncould have broken in by force; but Will considered that as it was but\nwaiting till another time, and they should be let in quietly, they\nresolved to give it over for that time.\nBut this was a happy drunken bout for the family; for the fellow having\nlet fall some words in his drink (for he was a saucy one as well as a\ndrunken one, and talked oddly), as that it had been better they had let\nhim in, and he would make them pay dear for it, or some such thing, the\nmaster hearing of it, turned him away in the morning, and never let him\ncome into his house again. So, I say, it was a happy drunkenness to the\nfamily, for it saved them from being robbed, and perhaps murdered; for\nthey were a cursed, bloody crew, and, as I found, were about thirteen\nof them in all, whereof three of them made it their business to get\ninto gentlemen\u2019s services, and so to open doors in the night, and let\nthe other rogues in upon them to rob and destroy them.\nI rambled this whole night with them. They went from Chelsea, being\ndisappointed there as above, to Kensington. There they broke into a\nbrewhouse and washhouse, and by that means into an out-kitchen of a\ngentleman\u2019s house, where they unhanged a small copper, and brought it\noff, and stole about a hundredweight of pewter, and went clear off with\nthat too. And every one going their own by-ways, they found means to\nget safe to their several receptacles where they used to dispose of\nsuch things.\nWe lay still the next day, and shared the effects stolen that night, of\nwhich my share came to \u00a38, 19s. The copper and pewter being weighed,\nand cast up, a person was at hand to take it as money, at about half\nvalue, and in the afternoon Will and I came away together. Will was\nmighty full of the success we had had, and how we might be sure of the\nlike this way every day. But he observed that I did not seem so\nelevated at the success of that night\u2019s ramble as I used to be, and\nalso that I did not take any great notice of the expectations he was in\nof what was to come. Yet I had said little to him at that time.\nBut my heart was full of the poor woman\u2019s case at Kentish Town, and I\nresolved, if possible, to find her out and give her her money. With the\nabhorrence that filled my mind at the cruelty of that act, there\nnecessarily followed a little distaste for the thing itself; and now it\ncame into my head with a double force that this was the high road to\nthe devil, and that certainly this was not the life of a gentleman.\nWill and I parted for that time; but next morning we met again, and\nWill was mighty brisk and merry. \u201cAnd now, Colonel Jacque,\u201d says he,\n\u201cwe shall be rich very quickly.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cand what shall we do\nwhen we are rich?\u201d \u201cDo!\u201d says he; \u201cwe will buy a couple of good horses,\nand go farther afield.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you mean by farther afield?\u201d says I. \u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201cwe will\ntake the highway like gentlemen, and then we shall get a great deal of\nmoney indeed.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cwhat then?\u201d \u201cWhy, then,\u201d says he, \u201cwe\nshall live like gentlemen.\u201d\n\u201cBut, Will,\u201d says I, \u201cif we get a great deal of money, shan\u2019t we leave\nthis trade off, and sit down, and be safe and quiet?\u201d\n\u201cAy,\u201d says Will; \u201cwhen we have got a great estate, we shall be willing\nto lay it down.\u201d \u201cBut where,\u201d says I, \u201cshall we be before that time\ncomes, if we should drive on this cursed kind of trade?\u201d\n\u201cPrithee never think of that,\u201d says Will; \u201cif you think of those\nthings, you will never be fit to be a gentleman.\u201d He touched me there\nindeed, for it ran much in my mind still that I was to be a gentleman,\nand it made me dumb for a while; but I came to myself after a little\nwhile, and I said to him, pretty tartly, \u201cWhy, Will, do you call this\nway of living the life of a gentleman?\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says Will, \u201cwhy not?\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cwas it like a gentleman for me to take that 22s. from a\npoor ancient woman, when she begged of me upon her knees not to take\nit, and told me it was all she had in the world to buy her bread for\nherself and a sick child which she had at home? Do you think I could be\nso cruel, if you had not stood by and made me do it? Why, I cried at\ndoing it as much as the poor woman did, though I did not let you see\nme.\u201d\n\u201cYou fool you,\u201d says Will; \u201cyou will never be fit for our business,\nindeed, if you mind such things as those. I shall bring you off those\nthings quickly. Why, if you will be fit for business, you must learn to\nfight when they resist, and cut their throats when they submit; you\nmust learn to stop their breath that they may beg and pray no more.\nWhat signifies pity? Prithee, who will pity us when we come to the Old\nBailey? I warrant you that whining old woman, that begged so heartily\nfor her 22s., would let you and I beg upon our knees, and would not\nsave our lives by not coming in for an evidence against us. Did you\never see any of them cry when they see gentlemen go to the gallows?\u201d\n\u201cWell, Will,\u201d says I, \u201cyou had better let us keep to the business we\nwere in before. There were no such cruel doings in that, and yet we got\nmore money by it than I believe we shall get at this.\u201d\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d says Will, \u201cyou are a fool; you don\u2019t know what fine things\nwe shall do in a little while.\u201d\nUpon this discourse we parted for that time; but I resolved with myself\nthat I would never be concerned with him that way any more. The truth\nis, they were such a dreadful gang, such horrid barbarous villains,\nthat even that little while that I was among them my very blood run\ncold in my veins at what I heard, particularly the continued raving and\ndamning one another and themselves at every word they spoke; and then\nthe horrid resolutions of murder, and cutting throats, which I\nperceived was in their minds upon any occasion that should present.\nThis appeared first in their discourse upon the disappointment they met\nwith at Chelsea, where the two rogues that were with us, ay, and Will\ntoo, damned and raged that they could not get into the house, and swore\nthey would have cut the gentleman\u2019s throat if they had got in, and\nshook hands, damning and cursing themselves if they did not murder the\nwhole family as soon as Tom (that was the manservant) could get an\nopportunity to let them in.\nTwo days after this Will came to my lodging; for I had now got a room\nby myself, had bought me tolerable good clothes and some shirts, and\nbegan to look like other folks. But, as it happened, I was abroad upon\nthe scout in another way; for though I was not hardened enough for so\nblack a villain as Will would have had me be, yet I had not arrived to\nany principle sufficient to keep me from a life, in its degree wicked\nenough, which tended to the same destruction, though not in so violent\nand precipitant degrees. I had his message delivered to me, which was\nto meet him the next evening at such a place, and as I came in time\nenough to meet, so I went to the place, but resolved beforehand that I\nwould not go any more with him among the gang.\nHowever, to my great satisfaction, I missed him; for he did not come at\nall to the place, but met with the gang at another place, they having\nsent for him in haste upon the notice of some booty; and so they went\nall away together. This was a summons, it seems, from one of the\ncreatures which they had abroad in a family, where an opportunity\noffered them to commit a notorious robbery, down almost as far as\nHounslow, and where they wounded a gentleman\u2019s gardener so that I think\nhe died, and robbed the house of a very considerable sum of money and\nplate.\nThis, however, was not so clean carried, nor did they get in so easy,\nbut by the resistance they met with the neighbours were all alarmed,\nand the gentlemen rogues were pursued, and being at London with the\nbooty, one of them was taken. Will, a dexterous fellow and head of the\ngang, made his escape, and though in his clothes, with a great weight\nabout him of both money and plate, plunged into the Thames and swam\nover where there was no path or road leading to the river; so that\nnobody suspected any one\u2019s going that way. Being got over, he made his\nway, wet as he was, into some woods adjacent, and, as he told me\nafterwards, not far from Chertsey, and stayed lurking about in the\nwoods or fields thereabouts till his clothes were dry; then, in the\nnight, got down to Kingston, and so to Mortlake, where he got a boat to\nLondon.\nHe knew nothing that one of his comrades was taken; only he knew that\nthey were all so closely pursued that they were obliged to disperse,\nand every one to shift for himself. He happened to come home in the\nevening, as good luck then directed him, just after search had been\nmade for him by the constables; his companion, who was taken, having,\nupon promise of favour, and of saving him from the gallows, discovered\nhis companions, and Will among the rest, as the principal party in the\nwhole undertaking.\nWill got notice of this just time enough to run for it and not to be\ntaken; and away he came to look for me; but, as my good fate still\ndirected, I was not at home neither. However, he left all his booty at\nmy lodging, and hid it in an old coat that lay under my bedding, and\nleft word that my brother Will had been there, and had left his coat\nthat he borrowed of me, and that it was under my bed.\nI knew not what to make of it, but went up to go to bed; and, finding\nthe parcel, was perfectly frighted to see, wrapped up in it, above one\nhundred pound in plate and money, and yet knew nothing of brother Will,\nas he called himself, nor did I hear of him for three or four days.\nAt the end of four days I heard, by great accident, that Will, who used\nto be seen with me, and who called me brother, was taken, and would be\nhanged. Next day a poor man, a shoemaker, that used formerly to have a\nkindness for me, and to send me of errands, and gave me sometimes some\nvictuals, seeing me accidentally in Rosemary Lane, going by him,\nclasped me fast hold by the arm. \u201cHark ye, young man,\u201d says he, \u201chave I\ncatched you?\u201d and hauled me along as if I had been a thief apprehended,\nand he the constable. \u201cHark ye, Colonel Jacque,\u201d says he again, \u201ccome\nalong with me. I must speak with you. What, are you got into this gang\ntoo? What, are you turned housebreaker? Come, I\u2019ll have you hanged, to\nbe sure.\u201d\nThese were dreadful words to me, who, though not guilty of the\nparticular thing in question, yet was frighted heartily before, and did\nnot know what I might be charged with by Will, if he was taken, as I\nheard that very morning he was. With these words, the shoemaker began\nto hale and drag me along as he used to do when I was a boy.\nHowever, recovering my spirits, and provoked to the highest degree, I\nsaid to him again, \u201cWhat do you mean, Mr. \u2014\u2014? Let me alone, or you will\noblige me to make you do it;\u201d and with that I stopped short, and soon\nlet him see I was grown a little too big to be haled about as I used to\nbe when I run of his errands, and made a motion with my other hand as\nif I would strike him in the face.\n\u201cHow, Jacque!\u201d says he; \u201cwill you strike me? Will you strike your old\nfriend?\u201d and then he let go my arm, and laughed. \u201cWell, but hark ye,\ncolonel,\u201d says he, \u201cI am in earnest. I hear bad news of you. They say\nyou are gotten into bad company, and that this Will calls you brother.\nHe is a great villain, and I hear he is charged with a bloody robbery,\nand will be hanged if he is taken. I hope you are not concerned with\nhim. If you are, I would advise you to shift for yourself, for the\nconstable and the headborough are after him to-day, and if he can lay\nany thing to you he will do it, you may be sure. He will certainly hang\nyou to save himself.\u201d\nThis was kind, and I thanked him, but told him this was a thing too\nserious, and that had too much weight in it, to be jested with, as he\nhad done before; and that some ignorant stranger might have seized upon\nme as a person guilty, who had no further concern in it than just\nknowing the man, and so I might have been brought into trouble for\nnothing. At least people might have thought I was among them, whether I\nwas or no, and it would have rendered me suspected, though I was\ninnocent.\nHe acknowledged that; told me he was but in jest, and that he talked to\nme just as he used to do.\n\u201cHowever, colonel,\u201d says he, \u201cI won\u2019t jest any more with you in a thing\nof such a dangerous consequence; I only advise you to keep the fellow\ncompany no more.\u201d\nI thanked him, and went away, but in the greatest perplexity\nimaginable. And now, not knowing what to do with myself, or with the\nlittle ill-gotten wealth which I had, I went musing and alone into the\nfields towards Stepney, my usual walk, and there began to consider what\nto do. And as this creature had left his prize in my garret, I began to\nthink that if he should be taken, and should confess and send the\nofficers to search there for the goods, and they should find them, I\nshould be undone, and should be taken up for a confederate; whereas I\nknew nothing of the matter, and had no hand in it.\nWhile I was thus musing, and in great perplexity, I heard somebody\nhalloo to me; and, looking about, I saw Will running after me. I knew\nnot what to think at first, but seeing him alone, was the more\nencouraged, and I stood still for him. When he came up to me I said to\nhim, \u201cWhat is the matter, Will?\u201d \u201cMatter!\u201d says Will. \u201cMatter enough; I\nam undone. When was you at home?\u201d\n\u201cI saw what you left there,\u201d says I. \u201cWhat is the meaning of it, and\nwhere got you all that? Is that your being undone?\u201d\n\u201cAy,\u201d says Will, \u201cI am undone for all that; for the officers are after\nme; and I am a dead dog if I am taken, for George is in custody, and he\nhas peached on me and all the others to save his life.\u201d\n\u201cLife!\u201d says I; \u201cwhy should you lose your life if they should take you?\nPray what would they do to you?\u201d\n\u201cDo to me!\u201d says he; \u201cthey would hang me, if the king had ne\u2019er another\nsoldier in his guards. I shall certainly be hanged as I am now alive.\u201d\nThis frighted me terribly, and I said, \u201cAnd what will you do then?\u201d\n\u201cNay,\u201d says he, \u201cI know not. I would get out of the nation, if I knew\nhow; but I am a stranger to all those things, and I know not what to\ndo, not I. Advise me, Jacque,\u201d says he; \u201cprithee tell me whither shall\nI go. I have a good mind to go to sea.\u201d\n\u201cYou talk of going away,\u201d says I; \u201cwhat will you do with all you have\nhid in my garret? It must not lie there,\u201d said I; \u201cfor if I should be\ntaken up for it, and it be found to be the money you stole, I shall be\nruined.\u201d\n\u201cI care not what becomes of it, not I,\u201d says Will. \u201cI\u2019ll be gone. Do\nyou take it, if you will, and do what you will with it. I must fly, and\nI cannot take it with me.\u201d \u201cI won\u2019t have it, not I,\u201d says I to him.\n\u201cI\u2019ll go and fetch it to you if you will take it,\u201d says I; \u201cbut I won\u2019t\nmeddle with it. Besides, there is plate. What shall I do with plate?\u201d\nsaid I. \u201cIf I should offer to sell it anywhere,\u201d said I, \u201cthey will\nstop me.\u201d\n\u201cAs for that,\u201d says Will, \u201cI could sell it well enough, if I had it;\nbut I must not be seen anywhere among my old acquaintance; for I am\nblown, and they will all betray me. But I will tell you where you shall\ngo and sell it, if you will, and they will ask you no questions, if you\ngive them the word that I will give you.\u201d So he gave me the word, and\ndirections to a pawnbroker near Cloth Fair. The word was _Good tower\nstandard_. Having these instructions, he said to me, \u201cColonel Jacque, I\nam sure you won\u2019t betray me; and I promise you, if I am taken, and\nshould be hanged, I won\u2019t name you. I will go to such a house\u201d (naming\na house at Bromley, by Bow, where he and I had often been), \u201cand\nthere,\u201d says he, \u201cI\u2019ll stay till it is dark. At night I will come near\nthe streets, and I will lay under such a haystack all night\u201d (a place\nwe both knew also very well); \u201cand if you cannot finish to come to me\nthere, I will go back to Bow.\u201d\nI went back and took the cargo, went to the place by Cloth Fair, and\ngave the word _Good tower standard_; and without any words, they took\nthe plate, weighed it, and paid me after the rate of 2s. per ounce for\nit. So I came away and went to meet him, but it was too late to meet\nhim at the first place; but I went to the haystack, and there I found\nhim fast asleep.\nI delivered him his cargo. What it really amounted to I knew not, for I\nnever told it; but I went home to my quarters very late and tired. I\nwent to sleep at first, but, notwithstanding I was so weary, I slept\nlittle or none for several hours. At last, being overcome with sleep, I\ndropped, but was immediately roused with noise of people knocking at\nthe door, as if they would beat it down, and crying and calling out to\nthe people of the house, \u201cRise, and let in the constable here. We come\nfor your lodger in the garret.\u201d\nI was frighted to the last degree, and started up in my bed; but when I\nwas awaked I heard no noise at all, but of two watchmen thumping at the\ndoors with their staves, and giving the hour, \u201cPast three o\u2019clock, and\na rainy, wet morning\u201d\u2014for such it was. I was very glad when I found it\nwas but a dream, and went to bed again, but was soon roused a second\ntime with the same, very same noise and words. Then, being sooner\nawaked than I was before, I jumped out of bed and ran to the window,\nand found it was just an hour more, and the watchmen were come about:\n\u201cPast four o\u2019clock,\u201d and they went away again very quietly; so I lay me\ndown again, and slept the rest of the night quietly enough.\nI laid no stress upon the thing called a dream, neither till now did I\nunderstand that dreams were of any importance; but getting up the next\nday, and going out with a resolution to meet brother Will, who should I\nmeet but my former brother, Captain Jacque. When he saw me, he came\nclose to me in his blunt way, and says, \u201cDo you hear the news?\u201d \u201cNo,\nnot I,\u201d said I; \u201cwhat news?\u201d \u201cYour old comrade and teacher is taken\nthis morning and carried to Newgate.\u201d \u201cHow,\u201d says I, \u201cthis morning?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d says he, \u201cthis morning at four o\u2019clock. He is charged with a\nrobbery and murder somewhere beyond Brentford; and that which is worse\nis, that he is impeached by one of the gang, who, to save his own life,\nhas turned evidence; and therefore you had best consider,\u201d says the\ncaptain, \u201cwhat you have to do.\u201d \u201cWhat I have to do!\u201d says I; \u201cand what\ndo you mean by that?\u201d \u201cNay, colonel,\u201d says he, \u201cdon\u2019t be angry; you\nknow best. If you are not in danger, I am glad of it, but I doubt not\nbut you were with them.\u201d \u201cNo, not I,\u201d said I again; \u201cI assure you I was\nnot.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cbut if you were not with them this bout, you\nhave been with them at other times; and \u2019twill be all one.\u201d \u201cNot I,\u201d\nsays I; \u201cyou are quite mistaken. I am none of their gang; they are\nabove my quality.\u201d With such, and a little more talk of that kind, we\nparted, and Captain Jacque went away; but as he went I observed he\nshook his head, seemed to have more concern upon him than he could be\nsupposed to have merely on my account, of which we shall hear more very\nquickly.\nI was extremely alarmed when I heard Will was in Newgate, and, had I\nknown where to have gone, would certainly have fled as far as legs\nwould have carried me. My very joints trembled, and I was ready to sink\ninto the ground; and all that evening, and that night following, I was\nin the uttermost consternation. My head ran upon nothing but Newgate\nand the gallows, and being hanged; which, I said, I deserved, if it\nwere for nothing but taking that two-and-twenty shillings from the poor\nold nurse.\nThe first thing my perplexed thoughts allowed me to take care of was my\nmoney. This indeed lay in a little compass, and I carried it generally\nall about me. I had got together, as you will perceive by the past\naccount, above \u00a360 (for I spent nothing), and what to do with it I knew\nnot. At last it came into my head that I would go to my benefactor, the\nclerk at the custom-house, if he was to be found, and see if I could\nget him to take the rest of my money. The only business was to make a\nplausible story to him, that he might not wonder how I came by so much\nmoney.\nBut my invention quickly supplied that want. There was a suit of\nclothes at one of our houses of rendezvous, which was left there for\nany of the gang to put on, upon particular occasions, as a disguise.\nThis was a green livery, laced with pink-coloured galloon, and lined\nwith the same; an edged hat, a pair of boots, and a whip. I went and\ndressed myself up in this livery, and went to my gentleman, to his\nhouse in Tower Street, and there I found him in health and well, just\nthe same honest gentleman as ever.\nHe stared at me when first I came to him, for I met him just at his\ndoor; I say, he stared at me, and seeing me bow and bow to him several\ntimes, with my laced hat under my arm, at last, not knowing me in the\nleast, says he to me, \u201cDost thou want to speak with me, young man?\u201d And\nI said, \u201cYes, sir; I believe your worship\u201d (I had learnt some manners\nnow) \u201cdoes not know me. I am the poor boy Jacque.\u201d He looked hard at\nme, and then recollecting me presently, says he, \u201cWho\u2014Colonel Jacque!\nWhy, where hast thou been all this while? Why, \u2019tis five or six years\nsince I saw you.\u201d \u201c\u2019Tis above six years, and please your worship,\u201d says\nI.\n\u201cWell, and where hast thou been all this while?\u201d says he.\n\u201cI have been in the country, sir,\u201d says I, \u201cat service.\u201d\n\u201cWell, Colonel Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201cyou give long credit; what\u2019s the\nreason you han\u2019t fetched your money all this while, nor the interest?\nWhy, you will grow so rich in time by the interest of your money, you\nwon\u2019t know what to do with it.\u201d\nTo that I said nothing, but bowed and scraped a great many times.\n\u201cWell, come, Colonel Jacque,\u201d said he, \u201ccome in and I will give you\nyour money, and the interest of it too.\u201d\nI cringed and bowed, and told him I did not come to him for my money;\nfor I had had a good place or two, and I did not want my money.\n\u201cWell, Colonel Jacque,\u201d said he, \u201cand who do you live with?\u201d\n\u201cSir Jonathan Loxham,\u201d said I, \u201csir, in Somersetshire, and please your\nworship.\u201d This was a name I had heard of, but knew nothing of any such\ngentleman, or of the country.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cbut won\u2019t you have your money, Jacque?\u201d\n\u201cNo, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cif your worship would please, for I have had a good\nplace.\u201d\n\u201cIf I would please to do what, prithee? Your money is ready, I tell\nthee.\u201d\n\u201cNo, sir,\u201d said I; \u201cbut I have had a good place.\u201d\n\u201cWell, and what dost thou mean, Jacque? I do not understand thee.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, and please your worship, my old master, Sir Jonathan\u2019s father,\nleft me \u00a330 when he died, and a suit of mourning, and\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cAnd what, prithee, Jacque? What, hast thou brought me more money?\u201d For\nthen he began to understand what I meant.\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d said I; \u201cand your worship would be so good to take it, and\nput it all together. I have saved some, too, out of my wages.\u201d\n\u201cI told you, Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201cyou would be rich. And how much hast\nthou saved? Come, let me see it.\u201d\nTo shorten the story, I pulled it out, and he was content to take it,\ngiving me his note, with interest, for the whole sum, which amounted to\n\u00a394; that is to say,\n\u00a325 The first money.\n9 For six years\u2019 interest.\n60 Now paid him.\nI came away exceeding joyful, made him abundance of bows and scrapes,\nand went immediately to shift my clothes again, with a resolution to\nrun away from London and see it no more for a great while. But I was\nsurprised the very next morning, when, going cross Rosemary Lane, by\nthe end of the place which is called Rag Fair, I heard one call\n\u201cJacque.\u201d He had said something before, which I did not hear, but upon\nhearing the name Jacque I looked about me, immediately saw three men,\nand after them a constable coming towards me with great fury. I was in\na great surprise, and started to run, but one of them clapped in upon\nme, and got hold of me, and in a moment the rest surrounded me, and I\nwas taken. I asked them what they wanted, and what I had done. They\ntold me it was no place to talk of that there, but showed me their\nwarrant, and bade me read it, and I should know the rest when I came\nbefore the justice; so they hurried me away.\nI took the warrant, but, to my great affliction, I could know nothing\nby that, for I could not read; so I desired them to read it, and they\nread it, that they were to apprehend a known thief, that went by the\nname of one of the three Jacques of Rag Fair; for that he was charged\nupon oath with having been a party in a notorious robbery, burglary,\nand murder, committed so and so, in such a place, and on such a day.\nIt was to no purpose for me to deny it, or to say I knew nothing of it;\nthat was none of their business, they said; that must be disputed, they\ntold me, before the justice, where I would find that it was sworn\npositively against me, and then, perhaps, I might be better satisfied.\nI had no remedy but patience; and as my heart was full of terror and\nguilt, so I was ready to die with the weight of it as they carried me\nalong. For as I very well knew that I was guilty of the first day\u2019s\nwork, though I was not of the last, so I did not doubt but I should be\nsent to Newgate, and then I took it for granted I must be hanged; for\nto go to Newgate and to be hanged were to me as things which\nnecessarily followed one another.\nBut I had a sharp conflict to go through before it came to that part;\nand that was before the justice; where, when I was come, and the\nconstable brought me in, the justice asked me my name. \u201cBut hold,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cyoung man; before I ask you your name, let me do you justice. You\nare not bound to answer till your accusers come;\u201d so, turning to the\nconstable, he asked for his warrant.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says the justice, \u201cyou have brought this young man here by\nvirtue of this warrant. Is this young man the person for whom this\nwarrant is granted?\u201d\n_Con_. I believe so, and please your worship.\n_Just_. Believe so! Why, are you not sure of it?\n_Con_. An\u2019t please your worship, the people said so where I took him.\n_Just_. It is a very particular kind of warrant; it is to apprehend a\nyoung man who goes by the name of Jacque, but no surname, only that it\nis said he is called Captain Jacque, or some other such name. Now,\nyoung man, pray is your name Captain Jacque? or are you usually called\nso?\nI presently found that the men that took me knew nothing of me, and the\nconstable had taken me up by hearsay; so I took heart, and told the\njustice that I thought, with submission, that it was not the present\nquestion what my name was, but what these men, or any one else, had to\nlay to my charge; whether I was the person who the warrant empowered\nthem to apprehend or no.\nHe smiled. \u201c\u2019Tis very true, young man,\u201d says he, \u201cit is very true; and,\non my word, if they have taken you up, and do not know you, and there\nis nobody to charge you, they will be mistaken to their own damage.\u201d\nThen I told his worship I hoped I should not be obliged to tell my name\ntill my accuser was brought to charge me, and then I should not conceal\nmy name.\n\u201cIt is but reason,\u201d said his good worship. \u201cMr. Constable,\u201d turning to\nthe officers, \u201care you sure this is the person that is intended in your\nwarrant? If you are not, you must fetch the person that accuses him,\nand on whose oath the warrant was granted.\u201d They used many words to\ninsinuate that I was the person, and that I knew it well enough, and\nthat I should be obliged to tell my name.\nI insisted on the unreasonableness of it, and that I should not be\nobliged to accuse myself: and the justice told them in so many words\nthat he could not force me to it, that I might do it if I would,\nindeed; \u201cbut you see,\u201d says the justice, \u201che understood too well to be\nimposed upon in that case.\u201d So that, in short, after an hour\u2019s debating\nbefore his worship, in which time I pleaded against four of them, the\njustice told them they must produce the accuser, or he must discharge\nme.\nI was greatly encouraged at this, and argued with the more vigour for\nmyself. At length the accuser was brought, fettered as he was, from the\ngaol, and glad I was when I saw him, and found that I knew him not;\nthat is to say, that it was not one of the two rogues that I went out\nwith that night that we robbed the poor old woman.\nWhen the prisoner was brought into the room he was set right against\nme.\n\u201cDo you know this young man?\u201d says the justice.\n\u201cNo, sir,\u201d says the prisoner; \u201cI never saw him in my life.\u201d\n\u201cHum!\u201d says the justice; \u201cdid not you charge one that goes by the name\nof Jacque, or Captain Jacque, as concerned in the robbery and murder\nwhich you are in custody for?\u201d\n_Pris_. Yes, an\u2019t please your worship.\n_Just_. And is this the man, or is he not?\n_Pris_. This is not the man, sir; I never saw this man before.\n\u201cVery good, Mr. Constable,\u201d says the justice, \u201cwhat must we do now?\u201d\n\u201cI am surprised,\u201d says the constable. \u201cI was at such a house\u201d (naming\nthe house), \u201cand this young man went by. The people cried out, \u2019There\u2019s\nJacque; that\u2019s your man;\u2019 and these people ran after him, and\napprehended him.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says the justice, \u201cand have these people anything to say to\nhim? Can they prove that he is the person?\u201d\nOne said no, and the other said no; and, in short, they all said no.\n\u201cWhy, then,\u201d said the justice, \u201cwhat can be done? The young man must be\ndischarged; and I must tell you, Mr. Constable, and you gentlemen that\nhave brought him hither, he may give you trouble, if he thinks fit, for\nyour being so rash. But look you, young man,\u201d says the justice, \u201cyou\nhave no great damage done you, and the constable, though he has been\nmistaken, had no ill design, but to be faithful to his office. I think\nyou may pass it by.\u201d\nI told his worship I would readily pass it by at his direction, but I\nthought the constable and the rest could do no less than to go back to\nthe place where they had insulted me, and declare publicly there that I\nwas honourably acquitted, and that I was not the man. This his worship\nsaid was very reasonable, and the constable and his assistants promised\nto do it, and so we came all away good friends, and I was cleared with\ntriumph.\n_Note_.\u2014This was the time that, as I mentioned above, the justice\ntalked to me, and told me I was born to better things, and that by my\nwell managing of my own defence, he did not question but I had been\nwell educated; and that he was sorry I should fall into such a\nmisfortune as this, which he hoped, however, would be no dishonour to\nme, since I was so handsomely acquitted.\nThough his worship was mistaken in the matter of my education, yet it\nhad this good effect upon me, that I resolved, if possible, I would\nlearn to read and write, that I would not be such an uncapable\ncreature, that I should not be able to read a warrant, and see whether\nI was the person to be apprehended or not.\nBut there was something more in all this than what I have taken notice\nof; for, in a word, it appeared plainly that my brother, Captain\nJacque, who had the forwardness to put it to me whether I was among\nthem or no, when in truth he was there himself, had the only reason to\nbe afraid to fly, at the same time that he advised me to shift for\nmyself.\nAs this presently occurred to my thoughts, so I made it my business to\ninquire and find him out, and to give him notice of it.\nIn the meantime, being now confident of my own safety, I had no more\nconcern upon my mind about myself; but now I began to be anxious for\npoor Will, my master and tutor in wickedness, who was now fast by the\nheels in Newgate, while I was happily at liberty; and I wanted very\nmuch to go and see him, and accordingly did so.\nI found him in a sad condition, loaden with heavy irons, and had\nhimself no prospect or hope of escaping. He told me he should die, but\nbid me be easy; for, as it would do him no good to accuse me, who never\nwas out with any of them but that once, so I might depend upon it he\nwould not bring me into the trouble. As for the rogue who had betrayed\nthem all, he was not able to hurt me, for I might be satisfied he had\nnever seen me in his life. \u201cBut, Colonel Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201cI will tell\nyou who was with us, and that is, your brother the captain, and the\nvillain has certainly named him; and, therefore,\u201d says he, \u201cif you can\ngive him timely notice of it, do, that he may make his escape.\u201d\nHe said a great many things to warn me off following the steps he had\nled me. \u201cI was far out, Jacque,\u201d said he, \u201cwhen I told you, to be a\nnotorious thief was to live like a gentleman.\u201d He chiefly discovered\nhis concern that they had, as he feared, killed the gentleman\u2019s\ngardener, and that he in particular had given him a wound in the neck,\nof which he was afraid he would die.\nHe had a great sum of money in gold about him, being the same that I\nhad carried back to him at the haystack; and he had concealed it so\nwell that those who took him had not found it, and he gave me the\ngreatest part of it to carry to his mother, which I very honestly\ndelivered, and came away with a heavy heart. Nor did I ever see him\nsince, for he was executed in about three weeks\u2019 time after, being\ncondemned that very next sessions.\nI had nothing to do now but to find the captain, who, though not\nwithout some trouble, I at last got news of, and told him the whole\nstory, and how I had been taken up for him by mistake, and was come\noff, but that the warrant was still out for him, and very strict search\nafter him; I say, telling him all this, he presently discovered by his\nsurprise that he was guilty, and after a few words more, told me\nplainly it was all true, that he was in the robbery, and that he had\nthe greatest part of the booty in keeping, but what to do with it, or\nhimself, he did not know; and wanted me to tell him, which I was very\nunfit to do, for I knew nothing of the world. Then he told me he had a\nmind to fly into Scotland, which was easy to be done, and asked me if I\nwould go with him. I told him I would, with all my heart, if I had\nmoney enough to bear the charge. He had the trade still in his eyes by\nhis answer. \u201cI warrant you,\u201d says he, \u201cwe will make the journey pay our\ncharge.\u201d \u201cI dare not think of going any more upon the adventure,\u201d says\nI. \u201cBesides, if we meet with any misfortune out of our knowledge, we\nshall never get out of it; we shall be undone.\u201d \u201cNay,\u201d says he; \u201cwe\nshall find no mercy here, if they can catch us, and they can do no\nworse abroad. I am for venturing at all events.\u201d\n\u201cWell, but, captain,\u201d says I, \u201chave you husbanded your time so ill that\nyou have no money to supply you in such a time as this?\u201d \u201cI have very\nlittle indeed,\u201d said he, \u201cfor I have had bad luck lately.\u201d But he lied,\nfor he had a great share of the booty they had got at their last\nadventure, as above; and, as the rest complained, he and Will had got\nalmost all of it, and kept the rest out of their shares, which made\nthem the willinger to discover them.\nHowever it was, he owned he had about \u00a322 in money, and something that\nwould yield money\u2014I suppose it was plate; but he would not tell me what\nit was, or where it was. But he said he durst not go to fetch it, for\nhe should be betrayed and seized, so he would venture without it.\n\u201cSure,\u201d says he, \u201cwe shall come back again some time or other.\u201d\nI honestly produced all the money I had, which was \u00a316 and some odd\nshillings. \u201cNow,\u201d says I, \u201cif we are good husbands, and travel\nfrugally, this will carry us quite out of danger.\u201d For we had both been\nassured that when we came out of England we should be both safe, and\nnobody could hurt us, though they had known us; but we neither of us\nthought it was so many weary steps to Scotland as we found it.\nI speak of myself as in the same circumstances of danger with brother\nJacque; but it was only thus: I was in as much fear as he, but not in\nquite as much danger.\nI cannot omit that, in the interval of these things, and a few days\nbefore I carried my money to the gentleman in Tower Street, I took a\nwalk all alone into the fields, in order to go to Kentish Town and do\njustice to the poor old nurse. It happened that, before I was aware, I\ncrossed a field that came to the very spot where I robbed the poor old\nwoman and the maid, or where, I should say, Will made me rob them. My\nheart had reproached me many a time with that cruel action, and many a\ntime I promised to myself that I would find a way to make her\nsatisfaction and restore her money, and that day I had set apart for\nthe work, but was a little surprised that I was so suddenly upon the\nunhappy spot.\nThe place brought to my mind the villainy I had committed there, and\nsomething struck me with a kind of wish\u2014I cannot say prayer, for I knew\nnot what that meant\u2014that I might leave off that cursed trade, and said\nto myself, \u201cOh that I had some trade to live by! I would never rob no\nmore, for sure \u2019tis a wicked, abominable thing.\u201d\nHere indeed I felt the loss of what just parents do, and ought to do,\nby all their children\u2014I mean, being bred to some trade or employment;\nand I wept many times that I knew not what to do or what to turn my\nhand to, though, I resolved to leave off the wicked course I was in.\nBut to return to my journey. I asked my way to Kentish Town, and it\nhappened to be of a poor woman that said she lived there; upon which\nintelligence I asked if she knew a woman that lived there whose name\nwas Smith. She answered yes, very well; that she was not a settled\ninhabitant, only a lodger in the town, but that she was an honest,\npoor, industrious woman, and by her labour and pains maintained a poor\ndiseased husband, that had been unable to help himself some years.\n\u201cWhat a villain have I been,\u201d said I to myself, \u201cthat I should rob such\na poor woman as this, and add grief and tears to her misery, and to the\nsorrows of her house!\u201d This quickened my resolution to restore her\nmoney; and not only so, but I resolved I would give her something over\nand above her loss. So I went forward, and by the direction I had\nreceived, found her lodging with very little trouble. Then asking for\nthe woman, she came to the door immediately; for she heard me ask for\nher by her name of a little girl that came first to the door. I\npresently spoke to her: \u201cDame,\u201d said I, \u201cwas not you robbed about a\nyear ago, as you was coming home from London, about Pindar of\nWakefield?\u201d \u201cYes, indeed I was,\u201d says she; \u201cand sadly frighted into the\nbargain.\u201d \u201cAnd how much did you lose?\u201d said I. \u201cIndeed,\u201d says she, \u201cI\nlost all the money I had in the world. I am sure I worked hard for it;\nit was money for keeping a nurse-child that I had then, and I had been\nat London to receive it.\u201d \u201cBut how much was it, dame?\u201d said I. \u201cWhy,\u201d\nsays she, \u201cit was 22s. 6\u00bdd.; 21s. I had been to fetch, and the odd\nmoney was my own before.\u201d\n\u201cWell, look you, good woman, what will you say if I should put you in a\nway to get your money again? for I believe the fellow that took it is\nfast enough now, and perhaps I may do you a kindness in it, and for\nthat I came to see you.\u201d \u201cOh dear!\u201d says the old woman, \u201cI understand\nyou, but indeed I cannot swear to the man\u2019s face again, for it was\ndark; and, besides, I would not hang the poor wretch for my money; let\nhim live and repent.\u201d \u201cThat is very kind,\u201d says I\u2014\u201cmore than he\ndeserves from you; but you need not be concerned about that, for he\nwill be hanged whether you appear against him or not; but are you\nwilling to have your money again that you lost?\u201d \u201cYes, indeed,\u201d says\nthe woman, \u201cI should be glad of that; for I have not been so hard put\nto it for money a great while as I am now; I have much ado to find us\nbread to eat, though I work hard early and late;\u201d and with that she\ncried.\nI thought it would have broken my very heart, to think how this poor\ncreature worked and was a slave at near threescore, and that I, a young\nfellow of hardly twenty, should rob her of her bread to support my\nidleness and wicked life; and the tears came from my eyes in spite of\nall my struggling to prevent it, and the woman perceived it too. \u201cPoor\nwoman,\u201d said I, \u201c\u2019tis a sad thing such creatures as these should\nplunder and strip such a poor object as thou art. Well, he is at\nleisure now to repent it, I assure you.\u201d \u201cI perceive, sir,\u201d says she,\n\u201cyou are very compassionate indeed. I wish he may improve the time God\nhas spared him, and that he may repent, and I pray God give him\nrepentance. Whoever he is, I forgive him, whether he can make me\nrecompense or not, and I pray God forgive him. I won\u2019t do him any\nprejudice, not I.\u201d And with that she went on praying for me.\n\u201cWell, dame, come hither to me,\u201d says I; and with that I put my hand\ninto my pocket, and she came to me. \u201cHold up your hand,\u201d said I; which\nshe did, and I told her nine half-crowns into her hand. \u201cThere, dame,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cis your 22s. 6d. you lost. I assure you, dame,\u201d said I, \u201cI\nhave been the chief instrument to get it off him for you; for, ever\nsince he told me the story of it among the rest of his wicked exploits,\nI never gave him any rest till I made him promise me to make you\nrestitution.\u201d All the while I held her hand and put the money into it I\nlooked in her face, and I perceived her colour come and go, and that\nshe was under the greatest surprise of joy imaginable.\n\u201cWell, God bless him,\u201d says she, \u201cand spare him from the disaster he is\nafraid of, if it be His will. For sure this is an act of so much\njustice, and so honest, that I never expected the like.\u201d She run on a\ngreat while so, and wept for him when I told her I doubted there was no\nroom to expect his life. \u201cWell,\u201d says she, \u201cthen pray God give him\nrepentance and bring him to heaven; for sure he must have something\nthat is good at the bottom; he has a principle of honesty at bottom to\nbe sure, however he may have been brought into bad courses by bad\ncompany or evil example, or other temptations; but I daresay he will be\nbrought to repentance one time or other before he dies.\u201d\nAll this touched me nearer than she imagined; for I was the man that\nshe prayed for all this while, though she did not know it, and in my\nheart I said amen to it. For I was sensible that I had done one of the\nvilest actions in the world in attacking a poor creature in such a\ncondition, and not listening to her entreaties when she begged so\nheartily for that little money we took from her.\nIn a word, the good woman so moved me with her charitable prayers that\nI put my hand in my pocket again for her: \u201cDame,\u201d said I, \u201cyou are so\ncharitable in your petitions for this miserable creature that it puts\nme in mind of one thing more which I will do for him, whether he\nordered me or not; and that is, to ask your forgiveness for the thief\nin robbing you. For it was an offence and a trespass against you, as\nwell as an injury to you; and therefore I ask your pardon for him. Will\nyou sincerely and heartily forgive him, dame? I do desire it of you;\u201d\nand with that I stood up, and, with my hat off, asked her pardon. \u201cO\nsir!\u201d says she, \u201cdo not stand up, and with your hat off to me. I am a\npoor woman; I forgive him, and all that were with him; for there was\none or more with him. I forgive them with all my heart, and I pray God\nto forgive them.\u201d\n\u201cWell, dame, then,\u201d said I, \u201cto make you some recompense for your\ncharity, there is something for you more than your loss;\u201d and with that\nI gave her a crown more.\nThen I asked her who that was who was robbed with her. She said it was\na servant-maid that lived then in the town, but she was gone from her\nplace, and she did not know where she lived now. \u201cWell, dame,\u201d says I,\n\u201cif ever you do hear of her, let her leave word where she may be found;\nand if I live to come and see you again, I will get the money off him\nfor her too. I think that was but little, was it?\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d says she; \u201cit\nwas but 5s. 6d.,\u201d which I knew as well as she. \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cdame,\ninquire her out if you have an opportunity;\u201d so she promised me she\nwould, and away I came.\nThe satisfaction this gave me was very much; but then a natural\nconsequence attended it, which filled me with reflection afterwards;\nand this was, that, by the same rule, I ought to make restitution to\nall that I had wronged in the like manner; and what could I do as to\nthat? To this I knew not what to say, and so the thought in time wore\noff; for, in short, it was impossible to be done. I had not ability,\nneither did I know any of the people whom I had so injured; and that\nsatisfying me for the present, I let it drop.\nI come now to my journey with Captain Jacque, my supposed brother. We\nset out from London on foot, and travelled the first day to Ware; for\nwe had learnt so much of our road that the way lay through that town.\nWe were weary enough the first day, having not been used at all to\ntravelling; but we made shift to walk once up and down the town after\nwe came into it.\nI soon found that his walking out to see the town was not to satisfy\nhis curiosity in viewing the place, for he had no notion of anything of\nthat kind, but to see if he could light of any purchase. For he was so\nnatural a thief that he could see nothing on the road but it occurred\nto him how easily that might be taken, and how cleverly this might be\ncarried off, and the like.\nNothing offered in Ware to his mind, it not being market-day; and as\nfor me, though I made no great scruple of eating and drinking at the\ncost of his roguery, yet I resolved not to enter upon anything, as they\ncalled it, nor to take the least thing from anybody.\nWhen the captain found me resolved upon the negative, he asked me how I\nthought to travel. I asked him what he thought of himself, that was\nsure to be hanged if he was taken, how small soever the crime was that\nhe should be taken for. \u201cHow can that be?\u201d says he; \u201cthey don\u2019t know me\nin the country.\u201d \u201cAy,\u201d says I; \u201cbut do you think they do not send up\nword to Newgate as soon as any thief is taken in the country, and so\ninquire who is escaped from them, or who is fled, that they may be\nstopped? Assure yourself,\u201d says I, \u201cthe gaolers correspond with one\nanother, with the greatest exactness imaginable; and if you were taken\nhere but for stealing a basket of eggs, you shall have your accuser\nsent down to see if he knows you.\u201d\nThis terrified him a little for a while, and kept him honest for three\nor four days; but it was but for a few days indeed, for he played a\ngreat many rogue\u2019s tricks without me; till at last he came to his end\nwithout me too, though it was not till many years after, as you shall\nhear in its order. But as these exploits are no part of my story, but\nof his, whose life and exploits are sufficient to make a volume larger\nthan this by itself, so I shall omit every thing but what I was\nparticularly concerned in during this tedious journey.\nFrom Ware we travelled to Cambridge, though that was not our direct\nroad. The occasion was this: in our way, going through a village called\nPuckeridge, we baited at an inn, at the sign of the Falcon, and while\nwe were there a countryman comes to the inn, and hangs his horse at the\ndoor while he goes in to drink. We sat in the gateway, having called\nfor a mug of beer, and drank it up. We had been talking with the\nhostler about the way to Scotland, and he had bid us ask the road to\nRoyston. \u201cBut,\u201d says he, \u201cthere is a turning just here a little\nfarther. You must not go that way, for that goes to Cambridge.\u201d\nWe had paid for our beer, and sat at the door only to rest us, when on\nthe sudden comes a gentleman\u2019s coach to the door, and three or four\nhorsemen. The horsemen rode into the yard, and the hostler was obliged\nto go in with them. Says he to the captain, \u201cYoung man, pray take hold\nof the horse\u201d (meaning the countryman\u2019s horse I mentioned above), \u201cand\ntake him out of the way, that the coach may come up.\u201d He did so, and\nbeckoned me to follow him. We walked together to the turning. Says he\nto me, \u201cDo you step before and turn up the lane. I\u2019ll overtake you.\u201d So\nI went on up the lane, and in a few minutes he was got up upon the\nhorse and at my heels. \u201cCome, get up,\u201d says he; \u201cwe will have a lift,\nif we don\u2019t get the horse by the bargain.\u201d\nI made no difficulty to get up behind him, and away we went at a good\nround rate, it being a good strong horse. We lost no time for an hour\u2019s\nriding and more, by which time we thought we were out of the reach of\nbeing pursued. And as the country man, when he should miss his horse,\nwould hear that we inquired the way to Royston, he would certainly\npursue us that way, and not towards Cambridge. We went easier after the\nfirst hour\u2019s riding, and coming through a town or two, we alighted by\nturns, and did not ride double through the villages.\nescaping\nEscaping with the purloined horse.\nNow, as it was impossible for the captain to pass by anything that he\ncould lay his hand on and not take it, so now, having a horse to carry\nit off too, the temptation was the stronger. Going through a village\nwhere a good housewife of the house had been washing, and hung her\nclothes out upon a hedge near the road, he could not help it, but got\nhold of a couple of good shirts that were but about half dry, and\novertook me upon the spur; for I walked on before. I immediately got up\nbehind, and away we galloped together as fast as the horse would well\ngo. In this part of our expedition his good luck or mine carried us\nquite out of the road, and having seen nobody to ask the way of, we\nlost ourselves, and wandered I know not how many miles to the right\nhand, till, partly by that means and partly by the occasion following,\nwe came quite into the coach-road to Cambridge from London by\nBishop-Stortford. The particular occasion that made me wander on was\nthus: the country was all open cornfields, no enclosures; when, being\nupon a little rising ground, I bade him stop the horse, for I would get\ndown and walk a little to ease my legs, being tired with riding so long\nbehind without stirrups. When I was down and looked a little about me,\nI saw plainly the great white road, which we should have gone, at near\ntwo miles from us.\nOn a sudden looking a little back to my left, upon that road, I saw\nfour or five horsemen riding full speed, some a good way before the\nothers, and hurrying on, as people in a full pursuit.\nIt immediately struck me: \u201cHa! brother Jacque,\u201d says I, \u201cget off the\nhorse this moment, and ask why afterwards.\u201d So he jumps off. \u201cWhat is\nthe matter?\u201d says he. \u201cThe matter!\u201d says I. \u201cLook yonder; it is well we\nhave lost our way. Do you see how they ride? They are pursuing us, you\nmay depend upon it. Either,\u201d says I, \u201cyou are pursued from the last\nvillage for the two shirts, or from Puckeridge for the horse.\u201d He had\nso much presence of mind that, without my mentioning it to him, he puts\nback the horse behind a great white thorn-bush, which grew just by him;\nso they could by no means see the horse, which, we being just at the\ntop of the hill, they might otherwise have done, and so have pursued\nthat way at a venture.\nBut as it was impossible for them to see the horse, so was it as\nimpossible for them to see us at that distance, who sat down on the\nground to look at them the more securely.\nThe road winding about, we saw them a great way, and they rode as fast\nas they could make their horses go. When we found they were gone quite\nout of sight, we mounted and made the best of our way also; and indeed,\nthough we were two upon one horse, yet we abated no speed where the way\nwould admit of it, not inquiring of anybody the way to anywhere till,\nafter about two hours\u2019 riding, we came to a town, which, upon inquiry,\nthey called Chesterford. And here we stopped, and asked not our way to\nany place, but whither that road went, and were told it was the\ncoach-road to Cambridge; also that it was the way to Newmarket, to St.\nEdmund\u2019s Bury, to Norwich and Yarmouth, to Lynn, and to Ely, and the\nlike.\nWe stayed here a good while, believing ourselves secure; and\nafterwards, towards evening, went forward to a place called\nBournbridge, where the road to Cambridge turns away out of the road to\nNewmarket, and where there are but two houses only, both of them being\ninns. Here the captain says to me, \u201cHark ye, you see we are pursued\ntowards Cambridge, and shall be stopped if we go thither. Now Newmarket\nis but ten miles off, and there we may be safe, and perhaps get an\nopportunity to do some business.\u201d\n\u201cLook ye, Jacque,\u201d said I, \u201ctalk no more of doing business, for I will\nnot join with you in anything of that kind. I would fain get you to\nScotland before you get a halter about your neck. I will not have you\nhanged in England, if I can help it; and therefore I won\u2019t go to\nNewmarket, unless you will promise me to take no false steps there.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cif I must not, then I won\u2019t; but I hope you will let\nus get another horse, won\u2019t you, that we may travel faster?\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d says\nI, \u201cI won\u2019t agree to that; but if you will let me send this horse back\nfairly, I will tell you how we shall hire horses afterwards, for one\nstage, or two, and then take them as far as we please: it is only\nsending a letter to the owner to send for him, and then, if we are\nstopped, it can do us but little hurt.\u201d\n\u201cYou are a wary, politic gentleman,\u201d says the captain, \u201cbut I say we\nare better as we are; for we are out of all danger of being stopped on\nthe way after we are gone from this place.\u201d\nWe had not parleyed thus long, but, though in the dead of the night,\ncame a man to the other inn door\u2014for, as I said above, there are two\ninns at that place\u2014and called for a pot of beer; but the people were\nall in bed, and would not rise. He asked them if they had seen two\nfellows come that way upon one horse. The man said he had, that they\nwent by in the afternoon, and asked the way to Cambridge, but did not\nstop only to drink one mug. \u201cOh!\u201d says he, \u201care they gone to Cambridge?\nThen I\u2019ll be with them quickly.\u201d I was awake in a little garret of the\nnext inn, where we lodged, and hearing the fellow call at the door, got\nup and went to the window, having some uneasiness at every noise I\nheard; and by that means heard the whole story. Now, the case is plain,\nour hour was not come, our fate had determined other things for us, and\nwe were to be reserved for it. The matter was thus. When we first came\nto Bournbridge, we called at the first house, and asked the way to\nCambridge, drank a mug of beer and went on, and they might see to turn\noff to go the way they directed. But night coming on, and we being very\nweary, we thought we should not find the way; and we came back in the\ndusk of the evening, and went into the other house, being the first as\nwe came back, as that where we called before was the first as we went\nforward.\nYou may be sure I was alarmed now, as indeed I had reason to be. The\ncaptain was in bed and fast asleep, but I wakened him, and roused him\nwith a noise that frighted him enough. \u201cRise, Jacque,\u201d said I; \u201cwe are\nboth ruined; they are come after us hither.\u201d Indeed, I was wrong to\nterrify him at that rate; for he started, and jumped out of bed, and\nran directly to the window, not knowing where he was, and, not quite\nawake, was just going to jump out of the window, but I laid hold of\nhim. \u201cWhat are you going to do?\u201d says I. \u201cI won\u2019t be taken,\u201d says he.\n\u201cLet me alone. Where are they?\u201d\nThis was all confusion; and he was so out of himself with the fright,\nand being overcome with sleep, that I had much to do to prevent his\njumping out of the window. However, I held him fast, and thoroughly\nwakened him, and then all was well again, and he was presently\ncomposed.\nThen I told him the story, and we sat together upon the bedside,\nconsidering what we should do. Upon the whole, as the fellow that\ncalled was apparently gone to Cambridge, we had nothing to fear, but to\nbe quiet till daybreak, and then to mount and be gone.\nAccordingly, as soon as day peeped we were up; and having happily\ninformed ourselves of the road at the other house, and being told that\nthe road to Cambridge turned off on the left hand, and that the road to\nNewmarket lay straight forward\u2014I say, having learnt this, the captain\ntold me he would walk away on foot towards Newmarket; and so, when I\ncame to go out, I should appear as a single traveller. And accordingly\nhe went out immediately, and away he walked; and he travelled so hard\nthat when I came to follow, I thought once that he had dropped me; for\nthough I rode hard, I got no sight of him for an hour. At length,\nhaving passed the great bank called the Devil\u2019s Ditch, I found him, and\ntook him up behind me, and we rode double till we came almost to the\nend of Newmarket town. Just at the hither house in the town stood a\nhorse at a door, just as it was at Puckeridge. \u201cNow,\u201d says Jack, \u201cif\nthe horse was at the other end of the town I would have him, as sure as\nwe had the other at Puckeridge;\u201d but it would not do; so he got down\nand walked through the town on the right-hand side of the way.\nHe had not got half through the town but the horse, having somehow or\nother got loose, came trotting gently on by himself, and nobody\nfollowing him. The captain, an old soldier at such work, as soon as the\nhorse was got a pretty way before him, and that he saw nobody followed,\nsets up a run after the horse, and the horse, hearing him follow, ran\nthe faster. Then the captain calls out, \u201cStop the horse!\u201d and by this\ntime the horse was got almost to the farther end of the town, the\npeople of the house where he stood not missing him all the while.\nUpon his calling out, \u201cStop the horse!\u201d the poor people of the town,\nsuch as were next at hand, ran from both sides the way and stopped the\nhorse for him, as readily as could be, and held him for him till he\ncame up. He very gravely comes up to the horse, hits him a blow or two,\nand calls him dog for running away, gives the man twopence that catched\nhim for him, mounts, and away he comes after me.\nThis was the oddest adventure that could have happened, for the horse\nstole the captain, the captain did not steal the horse. When he came up\nto me, \u201cNow, Colonel Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201cwhat say you to good luck?\nWould you have had me refuse the horse, when he came so civilly to ask\nme to ride?\u201d \u201cNo, no,\u201d said I; \u201cyou have got this horse by your wit,\nnot by design; and you may go on now, I think. You are in a safer\ncondition than I am, if we are taken.\u201d\nThe next question was what road we should take. Here were four ways\nbefore us, and we were alike strangers to them all. First, on the right\nhand, and at about a little mile from the town, a great road went off\nto St. Edmund\u2019s Bury; straight on, but inclining afterwards to the\nright, lay the great road to Barton Mills and Thetford, and so to\nNorwich; and full before us lay a great road, also, to Brandon and\nLynn; and on the left lay a less road to the city of Ely, and into the\nfens.\nIn short, as we knew not which road to take, nor which way to get into\nthe great north road, which we had left, so we, by mere unguided\nchance, took the way to Brandon, and so to Lynn. At Brand, or Brandon,\nwe were told that, passing over at a place called Downham Bridge, we\nmight cross the fen country to Wisbeach, and from thence go along that\nbank of the river Nene to Peterborough, and from thence to Stamford,\nwhere we were in the northern road again; and likewise, that at Lynn we\nmight go by the Washes into Lincolnshire, and so might travel north.\nBut, upon the whole, this was my rule, that, when we inquired the way\nto any particular place, to be sure we never took that road, but some\nother which the accidental discourse we might have should bring in. And\nthus we did here; for, having chiefly asked our way into the northern\nroad, we resolved to go directly for Lynn.\nWe arrived here very easy and safe, and while we was considering of\nwhat way we should travel next we found we were got to a point, and\nthat there was no way now left but that by the Washes into\nLincolnshire, and that was represented as very dangerous; so an\nopportunity offering of a man that was travelling over the fens, we\ntook him for our guide, and went with him to Spalding, and from thence\nto a town called Deeping, and so to Stamford in Lincolnshire.\nThis is a large, populous town, and it was market-day when we came to\nit; so we put in at a little house at the hither end of the town, and\nwalked into the town.\nHere it was not possible to restrain my captain from playing his feats\nof art, and my heart ached for him. I told him I would not go with him,\nfor he would not promise, and I was so terribly concerned at the\napprehensions of his venturous humour that I would not so much as stir\nout of my lodging; but it was in vain to persuade him. He went into the\nmarket, and found a mountebank there, which was what he wanted. How he\npicked two pockets there in one quarter of an hour, and brought to our\nquarters a piece of new holland of eight or nine ells, a piece of\nstuff, and played three or four pranks more in less than two hours; and\nhow afterward he robbed a doctor of physic, and yet came off clear in\nthem all\u2014this, I say, as above, belongs to his story, not mine.\nI scolded heartily at him when he came back, and told him he would\ncertainly ruin himself, and me too, before he left off, and threatened\nin so many words that I would leave him, and go back and carry the\nhorse to Puckeridge where we borrowed it, and so go to London by\nmyself.\nHe promised amendment; but as we resolved (now we were in the great\nroad) to travel by night, so it being not yet night, he gives me the\nslip again, and was not gone half-an-hour but he comes back with a gold\nwatch in his hand: \u201cCome,\u201d says he, \u201cwhy ain\u2019t you ready to go? I am\nready to go as soon as you will;\u201d and with that he pulls out the gold\nwatch. I was amazed at such a thing as that in a country town; but it\nseems there was prayers at one of the churches in the evening, and he,\nplacing himself as the occasion directed, found the way to be so near\nthe lady as to get it from her side, and walked off with it\nunperceived.\nThe same night we went away by moonlight, after having the satisfaction\nto hear the watch cried, and ten guineas offered for it again. He would\nhave been glad of the ten guineas instead of the watch, but durst not\nventure carry it home. \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cyou are afraid, and you have\nreason. Give it me; I will venture to carry it again.\u201d But he would not\nlet me, but told me that when he came into Scotland we might sell\nanything there without danger; which was true indeed, for there they\nasked us no questions.\nWe set out, as I said, in the evening by moon light, and travelled\nhard, the road being very plain and large, till we came to Grantham, by\nwhich time it was about two in the morning, and all the town, as it\nwere, dead asleep. So we went on for Newark, where we reached about\neight in the morning, and there we lay down and slept most of the day;\nand by this sleeping so continually in the day-time I kept him from\ndoing a great deal of mischief, which he would otherwise have done.\nFrom Newark we took advice of one that was accidentally comparing the\nroads, and we concluded that the road by Nottingham would be the best\nfor us; so we turned out of the great road, and went up the side of the\nTrent to Nottingham. Here he played his pranks again in a manner that\nit was the greatest wonder imaginable to me that he was not surprised,\nand yet he came off clear. And now he had got so many bulky goods that\nhe bought him a portmanteau to carry them in. It was in vain for me to\noffer to restrain him any more; so after this he went on his own way.\nAt Nottingham, I say, he had such success that made us the hastier to\nbe going than otherwise we would have been, lest we would have been\nbaulked, and should be laid hold of. From thence we left the road,\nwhich leads to the north again, and went away by Mansfield into\nScarsdale, in Yorkshire.\nI shall take up no more of my own story with his pranks; they very well\nmerit to be told by themselves. But I shall observe only what relates\nto our journey. In a word, I dragged him along as fast as I could, till\nI came to Leeds, in Yorkshire. Here, though it be a large and populous\ntown, yet he could make nothing of it; neither had he any success at\nWakefield; and he told me, in short, that the north-country people were\ncertainly all thieves. \u201cWhy so?\u201d said I. \u201cThe people seem to be just as\nother people are.\u201d \u201cNo, no,\u201d says he; \u201cthey have their eyes so about\nthem, and are all so sharp, they look upon everybody that comes near\nthem to be a pickpocket, or else they would never stand so upon their\nguard. And then again,\u201d says he, \u201cthey are so poor, there is but little\nto be got; and I am afraid,\u201d says he, \u201cthe farther we go north, we\nshall find it worse.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cwhat do you infer from thence?\u201d\n\u201cI argue from thence,\u201d says he, \u201cthat we shall do nothing there, and I\nhad as good go back into the south and be hanged as into the north to\nbe starved.\u201d\nWell, we came at length to Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Here, on a market-day,\nwas a great throng of people, and several of the townspeople going to\nmarket to buy provisions; and here he played his pranks, cheated a\nshopkeeper of \u00a315 or \u00a316 in goods, and got clear away with them; stole\na horse, and sold that he came upon, and played so many pranks that I\nwas quite frighted for him. I say for him, for I was not concerned for\nmyself, having never stirred out of the house where I lodged\u2014at least\nnot with him, nor without some or other with me belonging to the inn\nthat might give an account of me.\nNor did I use this caution in vain; for he had made himself so public\nby his rogueries that he was waylaid everywhere to be taken, and had he\nnot artfully at first given out that he was come from Scotland and was\ngoing toward London, inquiring that road, and the like, which amused\nhis pursuers for the first day, he had been taken, and in all\nprobability had been hanged there. But by that artifice he got half a\nday\u2019s time of them; and yet, as it was, he was put so to it that he was\nfain to plunge, horse and all, into the river Tweed, and swim over, and\nthereby made his escape. It was true that he was before upon Scots\nground (as they call it), and consequently they had no power to have\ncarried him off, if anybody had opposed them; yet, as they were in a\nfull chase after him, could they have come up with him they would have\nrun the risk of the rest, and they could but have delivered him up if\nthey had been questioned about it. However, as he got over the Tweed,\nand was landed safe, they could neither follow him, the water being too\nhigh at the usual place of going over, nor could they have attempted to\nhave brought him away if they had taken him. The place where he took\nthe river was where there is a ford below Kelso, but the water being\nup, the ford was not passable, and he had no time to go to the\nferry-boat, which is about a furlong off, opposite to the town.\nHaving thus made his escape, he went to Kelso, where he had appointed\nme to come after him. I followed with a heavy heart, expecting every\nhour to meet him upon the road in the custody of the constables and\nsuch people, or to hear of him in the gaol; but when I came to a place\non the border called Woller-haugh-head, there I understood how he had\nbeen chased, and how he made his escape.\nWhen I came to Kelso he was easy enough to be found; for his having\ndesperately swam the Tweed, a rapid and large river, made him much\ntalked of, though it seems they had not heard of the occasion of it,\nnor anything of his character; for he had wit enough to conceal all\nthat, and live as retired as he could till I came to him.\nI was not so much rejoiced at his safety as I was provoked at his\nconduct; and the more, for that I could not find he had yet the least\nnotion of his having been void of common-sense with respect to his\ncircumstances, as well as contrary to what he promised me. However, as\nthere was no beating anything into his head by words, I only told him\nthat I was glad he was at last gotten into a place of safety, and I\nasked him then how he intended to manage himself in that country. He\nsaid in few words he did not know yet. He doubted the people were very\npoor; but if they had any money he was resolved to have some of it.\n\u201cBut do you know, too,\u201d says I, \u201cthat they are the severest people upon\ncriminals of your kind in the world?\u201d He did not value that, he said,\nin his blunt, short way; he would venture it. Upon this I told him\nthat, seeing it was so, and he would run such ventures, I would take my\nleave of him and be gone back to England. He seemed sullen, or rather\nit was the roughness of his untractable disposition. He said I might do\nwhat I would, he would do as he found opportunity. However, we did not\npart immediately, but went on towards the capital city. On the road we\nfound too much poverty and too few people to give him room to expect\nany advantage in his way; and though he had his eyes about him as sharp\nas a hawk, yet he saw plainly there was nothing to be done; for as to\nthe men, they did not seem to have much money about them; and for the\nwomen, their dress was such that, had they any money, or indeed any\npockets, it was impossible to come at them; for, wearing large plaids\nabout them and down to their knees, they were wrapped up so close that\nthere was no coming to make the least attempt of that kind.\nKelso was indeed a good town, and had abundance of people in it; and\nyet, though he stayed one Sunday there, and saw the church, which is\nvery large and thronged with people, yet, as he told me, there was not\none woman to be seen in all the church with any other dress than a\nplaid, except in two pews, which belonged to some nobleman, and who,\nwhen they came out, were so surrounded with footmen and servants that\nthere was no coming near them, any more than there was any coming near\nthe king surrounded by his guards.\nWe set out, therefore, with this discouragement, which I was secretly\nglad of, and went forward to Edinburgh. All the way thither we went\nthrough no considerable town, and it was but very coarse travelling for\nus, who were strangers; for we met with waters which were very\ndangerous to pass, by reason of hasty rains, at a place called\nLauderdale, and where my captain was really in danger of drowning, his\nhorse being driven down by the stream, and fell under him, by which he\nwetted and spoiled his stolen goods that he brought from Newcastle, and\nwhich he had kept dry strangely, by holding them up in his arms when he\nswam the Tweed. But here it wanted but little that he and his horse had\nbeen lost, not so much by the depth of the water as the fury of the\ncurrent. But he had a proverb in his favour, and he got out of the\nwater, though with difficulty enough, not being born to be drowned, as\nI shall observe afterwards in its place.\nWe came to Edinburgh the third day from Kelso, having stopped at an inn\none whole day, at a place called Soutrahill, to dry our goods and\nrefresh ourselves. We were oddly saluted at Edinburgh. The next day\nafter we came thither, my captain having a desire to walk and look\nabout him, asked me if I would go and see the town. I told him yes; so\nwe went out, and coming through a gate that they call the Nether Bow,\ninto the great High Street, which went up to the Cross, we were\nsurprised to see it thronged with an infinite number of people. \u201cAy,\u201d\nsays my captain, \u201cthis will do.\u201d However, as I had made him promise to\nmake no adventures that day, otherwise I told him I would not go out\nwith him, so I held him by the sleeve, and would not let him stir from\nme.\nThen we came up to the Market Cross, and there besides the great number\nof people who passed and repassed, we saw a great parade or kind of\nmeeting, like an exchange of gentlemen, of all ranks and qualities, and\nthis encouraged my captain again, and he pleased himself with that\nsight.\nIt was while we were looking, and wondering at what we saw here, that\nwe were surprised with a sight which we little expected. We observed\nthe people running on a sudden, as to see some strange thing just\ncoming along; and strange it was indeed: for we see two men naked from\nthe waist upwards run by us as swift as the wind, and we imagined\nnothing but that it was two men running a race for some mighty wager.\nOn a sudden we found two long, small ropes or lines, which hung down at\nfirst, pulled straight, and the two racers stopped, and stood still,\none close by the other. We could not imagine what this meant, but the\nreader may judge at our surprise when we found a man follow after, who\nhad the ends of both those lines in his hands, and who, when he came up\nto them, gave each of them two frightful lashes with a wire whip or\nlash, which he held in the other hand. And then the two poor naked\nwretches run on again to the length of their line or tether, where they\nwaited for the like salutation; and in this manner they danced the\nlength of the whole street, which is about half-a-mile.\nThis was a dark prospect to my captain, and put him in mind, not only\nof what he was to expect if he made a slip in the way of his profession\nin this place, but also of what he had suffered when he was but a boy,\nat the famous place called Bridewell.\nBut this was not all; for, as we saw the execution, so we were curious\nto examine into the crime too; and we asked a young fellow who stood\nnear us what the two men had done for which they suffered that\npunishment. The fellow, an unhappy, ill-natured Scotchman, perceived by\nour speech that we were Englishmen, and by our question that we were\nstrangers, told us, with a malicious wit, that they were two\nEnglishmen, and that they were whipped so for picking pockets, and\nother petty thieveries, and that they were afterwards to be sent away\nover the border into England.\nNow this was every word of it false, and was only formed by his nimble\ninvention to insult us as Englishmen; for when we inquired further,\nthey were both Scotchmen, and were thus scourged for the usual offences\nfor which we give the like punishment in England. And the man who held\nthe line and scourged them was the city hangman, who (by the way) is\nthere an officer of note, has a constant salary, and is a man of\nsubstance; and not only so, but a most dexterous fellow in his office,\nand makes a great deal of money of his employment.\nThis sight, however, was very shocking to us; and my captain turned to\nme: \u201cCome,\u201d says he, \u201clet us go away; I won\u2019t stay here any longer.\u201d I\nwas glad to hear him say so, but did not think he had meant or intended\nwhat he said. However, we went back to our quarters, and kept pretty\nmuch within, only that in the evenings we walked about. But even then\nmy captain found no employment, no encouragement. Two or three times,\nindeed, he made a prize of some mercery and millinery goods; but when\nhe had them he knew not what to do with them, so that, in short, he was\nforced to be honest in spite of his goodwill to be otherwise.\nWe remained here about a month, when, on a sudden, my captain was gone,\nhorse and all, and I knew nothing what was become of him. Nor did I\never see or hear of him for eighteen months after, nor did he so much\nas leave the least notice for me, either whither he was gone or whether\nhe would return to Edinburgh again or no.\nI took his leaving me very heinously, not knowing what to do with\nmyself, being a stranger in the place; and, on the other hand, my money\nabated apace too. I had for the most part of this time my horse upon my\nhands to keep; and as horses yield but a sorry price in Scotland, I\nfound no opportunity to make much of him; and, on the other hand, I had\na secret resolution, if I had gone back to England, to have restored\nhim to the owner, at Puckeridge, by Ware. And so I should have wronged\nhim of nothing but the use of him for so long a time; but I found an\noccasion to answer all my designs about the horse to advantage.\nThere came a man to the stabler\u2014so they call the people at Edinburgh\nthat take in horses to keep\u2014and wanted to know if he could hear of any\nreturned horses for England. My landlord, so we called him, came\nbluntly to me one day, and asked me if my horse was my own. It was an\nodd question, as my circumstances stood, and puzzled me at first; and I\nasked why, and what was the matter. \u201cBecause,\u201d says he, \u201cif it be a\nhired horse in England, as is often the case with Englishmen who come\nto Scotland, I could help you to send it back, and get you something\nfor riding.\u201d So he expressed himself.\nI was very glad of the occasion, and, in short, took security there of\nthe person for delivering the horse safe and sound, and had 15s.\nsterling for the riding him. Upon this agreement, I gave order to leave\nthe horse at the Falcon, at Puckeridge, and where I heard, many years\nafter, that he was honestly left, and that the owner had him again, but\nhad nothing for the loan of him.\nBeing thus eased of the expense of my horse, and having nothing at all\nto do, I began to consider with myself what would become of me, and\nwhat I could turn my hand to. I had not much diminished my stock of\nmoney, for though I was all the way so wary that I would not join with\nmy captain in his desperate attempts, yet I made no scruple to live at\nhis expense, which, as I came out of England only to keep him company,\nhad been but just, had I not known that all he had to spend upon me was\nwhat he robbed honest people of, and that I was all that while a\nreceiver of stolen goods. But I was not come off so far then as to\nscruple that part at all.\nIn the next place, I was not so anxious about my money running low,\nbecause I knew what a reserve I had made at London. But still I was\nvery willing to have engaged in any honest employment for a livelihood,\nfor I was sick indeed of the wandering life which I had led, and was\nresolved to thieve no more. But then two or three things which I had\noffered me I lost, because I could not write or read.\nThis afflicted me a great while very much; but the stabler, as I have\ncalled him, delivered me from my anxiety that way by bringing me to an\nhonest but a poor young man, who undertook to teach me both to write\nand read, and in a little time too, and for a small expense, if I would\ntake pains at it. I promised all possible diligence, and to work I went\nwith it, but found the writing much more difficult to me than the\nreading.\nHowever, in half a year\u2019s time, or thereabouts, I could read, and write\ntoo, tolerably well, insomuch that I began to think I was now fit for\nbusiness. And I got by it into the service of a certain officer of the\ncustoms, who employed me for a time; but as he set me to do little but\npass and repass between Leeds and Edinburgh, with the accounts which he\nkept for the farmers of the customs there, leaving me to live at my own\nexpense till my wages should be due, I run out the little money I had\nleft, in clothes and subsistence, and a little before the year\u2019s end,\nwhen I was to have \u00a312 English money, truly my master was turned out of\nhis place; and, which was worse, having been charged with some\nmisapplications, was obliged to take shelter in England, and so we that\nwere servants, for there were three of us, were left to shift for\nourselves.\nThis was a hard case for me in a strange place, and I was reduced by it\nto the last extremity. I might have gone for England, an English ship\nbeing there. The master proffered me to give me my passage (upon\ntelling him my distress), and to take my word for the payment of 10s.\nwhen I came there. But my captain appeared just then under new\ncircumstances, which obliged him not to go away, and I was loth to\nleave him. It seems we were yet further to take our fate together.\nI have mentioned that he left me, and that I saw him no more for\neighteen months. His rambles and adventures were many in that time. He\nwent to Glasgow, played some remarkable pranks there, escaped almost\nmiraculously from the gallows; got over to Ireland, wandered about\nthere, turned raparee, and did some villainous things there, and\nescaped from Londonderry, over to the Highlands in the north of\nScotland; and about a month before I was left destitute at Leith by my\nmaster, behold! my noble Captain Jacque came in there, on board the\nferry-boat from Fife, being, after all adventures and successes,\nadvanced to the dignity of a foot-soldier in a body of recruits raised\nin the north for the regiment of Douglas.\nAfter my disaster, being reduced almost as low as my captain, I found\nno better shift before me, at least for the present, than to enter\nmyself a soldier too; and thus we were ranked together, with each of us\na musket upon our shoulders; and I confess that thing did not sit so\nill upon me as I thought at first it would have done; for though I\nfared hard and lodged ill (for the last, especially, is the fate of\npoor soldiers in that part of the world), yet to me that had been used\nto lodge on the ashes in the glass house, this was no great matter. I\nhad a secret satisfaction at being now under no necessity of stealing,\nand living in fear of a prison, and of the lash of the hangman\u2014a thing\nwhich, from the time I saw it in Edinburgh, was so terrible to me that\nI could not think of it without horror. And it was an inexpressible\nease to my mind that I was now in a certain way of living, which was\nhonest, and which I could say was not unbecoming a gentleman.\nWhatever was my satisfaction in that part, yet other circumstances did\nnot equally concur to make this life suit me; for after we had been\nabout six months in this figure, we were informed that the recruits\nwere all to march for England, and to be shipped off at Newcastle, or\nat Hull, to join the regiment, which was then in Flanders.\nI should tell you that, before this, I was extremely delighted with the\nlife of a soldier, and I took the exercise so naturally that the\nsergeant that taught us to handle our arms, seeing me so ready at it,\nasked me if I had never carried arms before. I told him no; at which he\nswore, though jesting. \u201cThey call you colonel,\u201d says he, \u201cand I believe\nyou will be a colonel, or you must be some colonel\u2019s bastard, or you\nwould never handle your arms as you do, at once or twice showing.\u201d\nThis pleased me extremely, and encouraged me, and I was mightily taken\nwith the life of a soldier; but when my captain came and told me the\nnews, that we were to march for England, and to be shipped off for\nFlanders at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I was surprised very much, and new\nthoughts began to come in my mind; as, first, my captain\u2019s condition\nwas particular, for he durst not appear publicly at Newcastle, as he\nmust have done if he had marched with the battalion (for they were a\nbody of above four hundred, and therefore called themselves a\nbattalion, though we were but recruits, and belonged to several\ncompanies abroad)\u2014I say, he must have marched with them, and been\npublicly seen, in which case he would have been apprehended and\ndelivered up. In the next place I remembered that I had almost \u00a3100 in\nmoney in London, and if it should have been asked all the soldiers in\nthe regiment which of them would go to Flanders a private sentinel if\nthey had \u00a3100 in their pockets, I believe none of them would answer in\nthe affirmative\u2014\u00a3100 being at that time sufficient to buy colours in\nany new regiment, though not in that regiment, which was on an old\nestablishment. This whetted my ambition, and I dreamt of nothing but\nbeing a gentleman officer, as well as a gentleman soldier.\nThese two circumstances concurring, I began to be very uneasy, and very\nunwilling in my thoughts to go over a poor musqueteer into Flanders, to\nbe knocked on the head at the tune of 3s. 6d. a week. While I was daily\nmusing on the circumstances of being sent away, as above, and\nconsidering what to do, my captain comes to me one evening: \u201cHark ye,\nJacque,\u201d says he, \u201cI must speak with you; let us take a walk in the\nfields a little out from the houses.\u201d We were quartered at a place\ncalled Park End, near the town of Dunbar, about twenty miles from\nBerwick-upon-Tweed, and about sixteen miles from the river Tweed, the\nnearest way.\nWe walked together here, and talked seriously upon the matter. The\ncaptain told me how his case stood, and that he durst not march with\nthe battalion into Newcastle; that if he did he should be taken out of\nthe ranks and tried for his life, and that I knew as well as he. \u201cI\ncould go privately to Newcastle,\u201d says he, \u201cand go through the town\nwell enough, but to go publicly is to run into the jaws of\ndestruction.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cthat is very true; but what will you\ndo?\u201d \u201cDo!\u201d says he. \u201cDo you think I am so bound by honour, as a\ngentleman soldier, that I will be hanged for them? No, no,\u201d says he; \u201cI\nam resolved to be gone, and I would have you go with us.\u201d Said I, \u201cWhat\ndo you mean by us?\u201d \u201cWhy, here is another honest fellow, an Englishman\nalso,\u201d says he, \u201cthat is resolved to desert too, and he has been a long\nwhile in their service, and says he knows how we shall be used abroad,\nand he will not go to Flanders, says he, not he.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cyou will be shot to death for deserters if you are\ntaken, and they will send out scouts for you in the morning all over\nthe country, so that you will certainly fall into their hands.\u201d \u201cAs for\nthat,\u201d says he, \u201cmy comrade is thoroughly acquainted with the way, and\nhe has undertaken to bring us to the banks of the Tweed before they can\ncome up with us; and when we are on the other side of the Tweed, they\ncan\u2019t take us up.\u201d\n\u201cAnd when would you go away?\u201d says I.\n\u201cThis minute,\u201d says he; \u201cno time to be lost; \u2019tis a fine moonshining\nnight.\u201d\n\u201cI have none of my baggage,\u201d says I; \u201clet me go back and fetch my linen\nand other things.\u201d\n\u201cYour linen is not much, I suppose,\u201d says he, \u201cand we shall easily get\nmore in England the old way.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d says I, \u201cno more of your old ways. It has been owing to those old\nways that we are now in such a strait.\u201d\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d says he, \u201cthe old ways are better than this starving life\nof a gentleman, as we call it.\u201d\n\u201cBut,\u201d says I, \u201cwe have no money in our pockets. How shall we travel?\u201d\n\u201cI have a little,\u201d says the captain, \u201cenough to help us on to\nNewcastle; and if we can get none by the way, we will get some\ncollier-ship to take us in and carry us to London by sea.\u201d\n\u201cI like that the best of all the measures you have laid yet,\u201d said I;\nand so I consented to go, and went off with him immediately. The\ncunning rogue, having lodged his comrade a mile off under the hills,\nhad dragged me by talking with him, by little and little, that way,\ntill just when I consented he was in sight, and he said, \u201cLook, there\u2019s\nmy comrade!\u201d who I knew presently, having seen him among the men.\nBeing thus gotten under the hills, and a mile off the way, and the day\njust shut in, we kept on apace, resolving, if possible, to get out of\nthe reach of our pursuers before they should miss us or know anything\nof our being gone.\nWe plied our time so well and travelled so hard that by five o\u2019clock in\nthe morning, we were at a little village whose name I forget; but they\ntold us that we were within eight miles of the Tweed, and that as soon\nas we should be over the river we were on English ground.\nWe refreshed a little here, but marched on with but little stay.\nHowever, it was half-an-hour past eight in the morning before we\nreached the Tweed, so it was at least twelve miles, when they told us\nit was but eight. Here we overtook two more of the same regiment, who\nhad deserted from Haddington, where another part of the recruits were\nquartered.\nThose were Scotchmen, and very poor, having not one penny in their\npockets, and had no more when they made their escape but 8s. between\nthem. And when they saw us, whom they knew to be of the same regiment\nthey took us to be pursuers, and that we came to lay hold of them; upon\nwhich they stood upon their defence, having the regiment swords on, as\nwe had also, but none of the mounting or clothing; for we were not to\nreceive the clothing till we came to the regiment in Flanders.\nIt was not long before we made them understand that we were in the same\ncircumstances with themselves, and so we soon became one company; and\nafter resting some time on the English side of the river (for we were\nheartily tired, and the others were as much fatigued as we were)\u2014I say,\nafter resting awhile, we set forwards towards Newcastle, whither we\nresolved to go to get our passage by sea to London; for we had not\nmoney to hold us out any farther.\nOur money was ebbed very low; for though I had one piece of gold in my\npocket, which I kept reserved for the last extremity, yet it was but\nhalf-a-guinea, and my captain had bore all our charges as far as his\nmoney would go, so that when we came to Newcastle we had but sixpence\nleft in all to help ourselves, and the two Scots had begged their way\nall along the road.\nWe contrived to come into Newcastle in the dusk of the evening, and\neven then we durst not venture into the public part of the town, but\nmade down towards the river, something below the town, where some\nglass-houses stand. Here we knew not what to do with ourselves; but,\nguided by our fate, we put a good face upon the matter, and went into\nan alehouse, sat down, and called for a pint of beer.\nThe house was kept by a woman only\u2014that is to say, we saw no other; and\nas she appeared very frank and entertained us cheerfully, we at last\ntold our condition, and asked her if she could not help us to some kind\nmaster of a collier that would give us a passage to London by sea. The\nsubtle devil, who immediately found us proper fish for her hook, gave\nus the kindest words in the world, and told us she was heartily sorry\nshe had not seen us one day sooner; that there was a collier-master, of\nher particular acquaintance, that went away but with the morning tide;\nthat the ship was fallen down to Shields, but she believed was hardly\nover the bar yet, and she would send to his house and see if he was\ngone on board; for sometimes the masters do not go away till a tide\nafter the ship, and she was sure, if he was not gone, she could prevail\nwith him to take us all in; but then she was afraid we must go on board\nimmediately, the same night.\nWe begged her to send to his house, for we knew not what to do, and if\nshe could oblige him to take us on board, we did not care what time of\nnight it was; for, as we had no money, we had no lodging, and we wanted\nnothing but to be on board.\nWe looked upon this as a mighty favour, that she sent to the master\u2019s\nhouse, and, to our greater joy, she brought us word about an hour after\nthat he was not gone, and was at a tavern in the town, whither his boy\nhad been to fetch him, and that he had sent word he would call there in\nthe way home.\nThis was all in our favour, and we were extremely pleased with it.\nAbout an hour after, the landlady being in the room with us, her maid\nbrings us word the master was below. So down she goes to him, telling\nus she would go and tell him our case, and see to persuade him to take\nus all on board. After some time she comes up with him, and brings him\ninto the room to us. \u201cWhere are these honest gentlemen soldiers,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cthat are in such distress?\u201d We stood all up, and paid our respects\nto him. \u201cWell, gentlemen, and is all your money spent?\u201d\n\u201cIndeed it is,\u201d said one of our company, \u201cand we shall be infinitely\nobliged to you, sir, if you will give us a passage. We will be very\nwilling to do anything we can in the ship, though we are not seamen.\u201d\n\u201cWhy,\u201d says he, \u201cwere none of you ever at sea in your lives?\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d says we, \u201cnot one of us.\u201d\n\u201cYou will be able to do me no service, then,\u201d says he; \u201cfor you will be\nall sick. Well, however,\u201d says he, \u201cfor my good landlady\u2019s sake here,\nI\u2019ll do it; but are you all ready to go on board, for I go on board\nthis very night?\u201d\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d says we again; \u201cwe are ready to go this minute.\u201d\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d says he very kindly; \u201cwe\u2019ll drink together. Come, landlady,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cmake these honest gentlemen a sneaker of punch.\u201d\nWe looked at one another, for we knew we had no money, and he perceived\nit. \u201cCome, come,\u201d says he, \u201cdon\u2019t be concerned at your having no money;\nmy landlady here and I never part with dry lips. Come, goodwife,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cmake the punch as I bid you.\u201d\nWe thanked him and said, \u201cGod bless you, noble captain,\u201d a hundred\ntimes over, being overjoyed with such good luck. While we were drinking\nthe punch he calls the landlady: \u201cCome,\u201d says he, \u201cI\u2019ll step home and\ntake my things, and bid them good-bye, and order the boat to come at\nhigh water and take me up here. And pray, goodwife,\u201d says he, \u201cget me\nsomething for supper. Sure, if I can give these honest men their\npassage, I may give them a bit of victuals too; it may be they han\u2019t\nhad much for dinner.\u201d\nWith this away he went, and in a little while we heard the jack\na-going; and one of us, going down stairs for a spy, brought us word\nthere was a good leg of mutton at the fire. In less than an hour our\ncaptain came again, and came up to us, and blamed us that we had not\ndrank all the punch out. \u201cCome,\u201d says he, \u201cdon\u2019t be bashful; when that\nis out we can have another. When I am obliging poor men, I love to do\nit handsomely.\u201d\nWe drank on, and drank the punch out, and more was brought up, and he\npushed it about apace; and then came up a leg of mutton, and I need not\nsay that we ate heartily, being told several times that we should pay\nnothing. After supper was done he bids my landlady ask if the boat was\ncome. And she brought word no; it was not high water by a good deal.\n\u201cNo!\u201d says he. \u201cWell, then, give us some more punch.\u201d So more punch was\nbrought in, and, as was afterwards confessed, something was put into\nit, or more brandy than ordinary, and by that time the punch was drunk\nout we were all very drunk; and as for me, I was asleep.\nAbout the time that was out we were told the boat was come; so we\ntumbled out, almost over one another, into the boat, and away we went,\nand our captain in the boat. Most of us, if not all, fell asleep, till\nafter some time, though how much or how far going we knew not, the boat\nstopped, and we were waked and told we were at the ship\u2019s side, which\nwas true; and with much help and holding us, for fear we should fall\noverboard, we were all gotten into the ship. All I remember of it was\nthis, that as soon as we were on board our captain, as we called him,\ncalled out thus: \u201cHere, boatswain, take care of these gentlemen, and\ngive them good cabins, and let them turn in and go to sleep, for they\nare very weary;\u201d and so indeed we were, and very drunk too, being the\nfirst time I had ever drank punch in my life.\nWell, care was taken of us according to order, and we were put into\nvery good cabins, where we were sure to go immediately to sleep. In the\nmeantime the ship, which was indeed just ready to go, and only on\nnotice given had come to an anchor for us at Shields, weighed, stood\nover the bar, and went off to sea; and when we waked, and began to peep\nabroad, which was not till near noon the next day, we found ourselves a\ngreat way at sea; the land in sight, indeed, but at a great distance,\nand all going merrily on for London, as we understood it. We were very\nwell used and well satisfied with our condition for about three days,\nwhen we began to inquire whether we were not almost come, and how much\nlonger it would be before we should come into the river. \u201cWhat river?\u201d\nsays one of the men. \u201cWhy, the Thames,\u201d says my Captain Jacque. \u201cThe\nThames!\u201d says the seaman. \u201cWhat do you mean by that? What, han\u2019t you\nhad time enough to be sober yet?\u201d So Captain Jacque said no more, but\nlooked about him like a fool; when, a while after, some other of us\nasked the like question, and the seaman, who knew nothing of the cheat,\nbegan to smell a trick, and turning to the other Englishman that came\nwith us, \u201cPray,\u201d says he, \u201cwhere do you fancy you are going, that you\nask so often about it?\u201d \u201cWhy, to London,\u201d says he. \u201cWhere should we be\ngoing? We agreed with the captain to carry us to London.\u201d \u201cNot with the\ncaptain,\u201d says he, \u201cI dare say. Poor men! you are all cheated; and I\nthought so when I saw you come aboard with that kidnapping rogue\nGilliman. Poor men!\u201d adds he, \u201cyou are all be trayed. Why, you are\ngoing to Virginia, and the ship is bound to Virginia.\u201d\nThe Englishman falls a-storming and raving like a madman, and we\ngathering round him, let any man guess, if they can, what was our\nsurprise and how we were confounded when we were told how it was. In\nshort, we drew our swords and began to lay about us, and made such a\nnoise and hurry in the ship that at last the seamen were obliged to\ncall out for help. The captain commanded us to be disarmed in the first\nplace, which was not, however, done without giving and receiving some\nwounds, and afterwards he caused us to be brought to him into the great\ncabin.\nHere he talked very calmly to us, that he was really very sorry for\nwhat had befallen us; that he perceived we had been trepanned, and that\nthe fellow who had brought us on board was a rogue that was employed by\na sort of wicked merchants not unlike himself; that he supposed he had\nbeen represented to us as captain of the ship, and asked us if it was\nnot so. We told him yes, and gave him a large account of ourselves, and\nhow we came to the woman\u2019s house to inquire for some master of a\ncollier to get a passage to London, and that this man engaged to carry\nus to London in his own ship, and the like, as is related above.\nHe told us he was very sorry for it, and he had no hand in it; but it\nwas out of his power to help us, and let us know very plainly what our\ncondition was; namely, that we were put on board his ship as servants\nto be delivered at Maryland to such a man, whom he named to us; but\nthat, however, if we would be quiet and orderly in the ship, he would\nuse us well in the passage, and take care we should be used well when\nwe came there, and that he would do anything for us that lay in his\npower; but if we were unruly and refractory, we could not expect but he\nmust take such measures as to oblige us to be satisfied; and that, in\nshort, we must be handcuffed, carried down between the decks and kept\nas prisoners, for it was his business to take care that no disturbance\nmust be in the ship.\nMy captain raved like a madman, swore at the captain, told him he would\nnot fail to cut his throat, either on board or ashore, whenever he came\nwithin his reach; and that, if he could not do it now, he would do it\nafter he came to England again, if ever he durst show his face there\nagain. For he might depend upon it, if he was carried away to Virginia,\nhe should find his way to England again; that, if it was twenty years\nafter, he would have satisfaction of him. \u201cWell, young man,\u201d says the\ncaptain, smiling, \u201c\u2019tis very honestly said, and then I must take care\nof you while I have you here, and afterwards I must take care of\nmyself.\u201d \u201cDo your worst,\u201d says Jacque boldly; \u201cI\u2019ll pay you home for it\none time or other.\u201d \u201cI must venture that, young man,\u201d says he, still\ncalmly, \u201cbut for the present you and I must talk a little;\u201d so he bids\nthe boatswain, who stood near him, secure him, which he did. I spoke to\nhim to be easy and patient, and that the captain had no hand in our\nmisfortune.\n\u201cNo hand in it! D\u2014n him,\u201d said he aloud, \u201cdo you think he is not\nconfederate in this villainy? Would any honest man receive innocent\npeople on board his ship and not inquire of their circumstances, but\ncarry them away and not speak to them? And now he knows how barbarously\nwe are treated, why does he not set us on shore again? I tell you he is\na villain, and none but him. Why does he not complete his villainy and\nmurder us, and then he will be free from our revenge? But nothing else\nshall ever deliver him from my hands but sending us to the d\u2014l, or\ngoing thither himself; and I am honester in telling him so fairly than\nhe has been to me, and am in no passion any more than he is.\u201d\nThe captain was, I say, a little shocked at his boldness, for he talked\na great deal more of the same kind, with a great deal of spirit and\nfire, and yet without any disorder in his temper. Indeed I was\nsurprised at it, for I never had heard him talk so well and so much to\nthe purpose in my life. The captain was, I say, a little shocked at it.\nHowever, he talked very handsomely to him, and said to him, \u201cLook ye,\nyoung man, I bear with you the more because I am sensible your case is\nvery hard; and yet I cannot allow your threatening me neither, and you\noblige me by that to be severer with you than I intended. However, I\nwill do nothing to you but what your threatening my life makes\nnecessary.\u201d The boatswain called out to have him to the geers, as they\ncalled it, and to have him taste the cat-o\u2019-nine-tails\u2014all which were\nterms we did not understand till afterwards, when we were told he\nshould have been whipped and pickled, for they said it was not to be\nsuffered. But the captain said, \u201cNo, no; the young man has been really\ninjured, and has reason to be very much provoked; but I have not\ninjured him,\u201d says he. And then he protested he had no hand in it, that\nhe was put on board, and we also, by the owner\u2019s agent, and for their\naccount; that it was true that they did always deal in servants, and\ncarried a great many every voyage, but that it was no profit to him as\ncommander; but they were always put on board by the owners, and that it\nwas none of his business to inquire about them; and, to prove that he\nwas not concerned in it, but was very much troubled at so base a thing,\nand that he would not be instrumental to carry us away against our\nwills, if the wind and the weather would permit, he would set us on\nshore again, though, as it blowed then, the wind being at south-west\nand a hard gale, and that they were already as far as the Orkneys, it\nwas impossible.\nBut the captain was the same man. He told him that, let the wind blow\nhow it would, he ought not to carry us away against our consent; and as\nto his pretences of his owners and the like, it was saying of nothing\nto him, for it was he, the captain, that carried us away, and that,\nwhatever rogue trepanned us on board, now he knew it, he ought no more\nto carry us away than murder us; and that he demanded to be set on\nshore, or else he, the captain, was a thief and a murderer.\nThe captain continued mild still; and then I put in with an argument\nthat had like to have brought us all back, if the weather had not\nreally hindered it; which, when I came to understand sea affairs\nbetter, I found was indeed so, and that it had been impossible. I told\nthe captain that I was sorry that my brother was so warm, but that our\nusage was villainous, which he could not deny. Then I took up the air\nof what my habit did not agree with. I told him that we were not people\nto be sold for slaves, that though we had the misfortune to be in a\ncircumstance that obliged us to conceal ourselves, having disguised\nourselves to get out of the army, as being not willing to go into\nFlanders, yet that we were men of substance, and able to discharge\nourselves from the service when it came to that; and, to convince him\nof it, I told him I would give him sufficient security to pay \u00a320\napiece for my brother and myself; and in as short time as we could send\nfrom the place he should put into London, and receive a return. And, to\nshow that I was able to do it, I pulled out my bill for \u00a394 from the\ngentleman of the custom-house, and who, to my infinite satisfaction, he\nknew as soon as he saw the bill. He was astonished at this, and,\nlifting up his hands, \u201cBy what witchcraft,\u201d says he, \u201cwere ye brought\nhither!\u201d\n\u201cAs to that,\u201d says I, \u201cwe have told you the story, and we add nothing\nto it; but we insist upon it that you will do this justice to us now.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cI am very sorry for it, but I cannot answer putting\nback the ship; neither, if I could,\u201d says he, \u201cis it practicable to be\ndone.\u201d\nWhile this discourse lasted the two Scotchmen and the other Englishman\nwere silent; but as I seemed to acquiesce, the Scotchmen began to talk\nto the same purpose, which I need not repeat, and had not mentioned but\nfor a merry passage that followed. After the Scotchmen had said all\nthey could, and the captain still told them they must submit,\u2014\u201cAnd will\nyou then carry us to Virginia?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d says the captain. \u201cAnd will we\nbe sold,\u201d says the Scotchman, \u201cwhen we come there?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d says the\ncaptain. \u201cWhy then, sir,\u201d says the Scotchman, \u201cthe devil will have you\nat the hinder end of the bargain.\u201d \u201cSay you so,\u201d says the captain,\nsmiling. \u201cWell, well, let the devil and I alone to agree about that; do\nyou be quiet and behave civilly, as you should do, and you shall be\nused as kindly, both here and there too, as I can.\u201d The poor Scotchmen\ncould say little to it, nor I, nor any of us; for we saw there was no\nremedy but to leave the devil and the captain to agree among\nthemselves, as the captain had said, as to the honesty of it.\nThus, in short, we were all, I say, obliged to acquiesce but my\ncaptain, who was so much the more obstinate when he found that I had a\nfund to make such an offer upon; nor could all my persuasions prevail\nwith him. The captain of the ship and he had many pleasant dialogues\nabout this in the rest of the voyage, in which Jacque never treated him\nwith any language but that of kidnapper and villain, nor talked of\nanything but of taking his revenge of him. But I omit that part, though\nvery diverting, as being no part of my own story.\nIn short, the wind continued to blow hard, though very fair, till, as\nthe seamen said, we were past the islands on the north of Scotland, and\nthat we began to steer away westerly (which I came to understand\nsince). As there was no land any way for many hundred leagues, so we\nhad no remedy but patience, and to be easy as we could; only my surly\nCaptain Jacque continued the same man all the way.\nWe had a very good voyage, no storms all the way, and a northerly wind\nalmost twenty days together; so that, in a word, we made the capes of\nVirginia in two-and-thirty days from the day we steered west, as I have\nsaid, which was in the latitude of 60 degrees 30 minutes, being to the\nnorth of the isle of Great Britain; and this, they said, was a very\nquick passage.\nNothing material happened to me during the voyage; and indeed, when I\ncame there, I was obliged to act in so narrow a compass that nothing\nvery material could present itself.\nWhen we came ashore, which was in a great river which they call\nPotomac, the captain asked us, but me more particularly, whether I had\nanything to propose to him now. Jacque answered, \u201cYes, I have something\nto propose to you, captain; that is, that I have promised you to cut\nyour throat, and depend upon it I will be as good as my word.\u201d \u201cWell,\nwell,\u201d says the captain, \u201cif I can\u2019t help it, you shall;\u201d so he turned\naway to me. I understood him very well what he meant; but I was now out\nof the reach of any relief; and as for my note, it was now but a bit of\npaper of no value, for nobody could receive it but myself. I saw no\nremedy, and so talked coldly to him of it as of a thing I was\nindifferent about; and indeed I was grown indifferent, for I considered\nall the way on the voyage, that as I was bred a vagabond, had been a\npickpocket and a soldier, and was run from my colours, and that I had\nno settled abode in the world, nor any employ to get anything by,\nexcept that wicked one I was bred to, which had the gallows at the\nheels of it, I did not see but that this service might be as well to me\nas other business. And this I was particularly satisfied with when they\ntold me that after I had served out the five years\u2019 servitude I should\nhave the courtesy of the country (as they called it); that is, a\ncertain quantity of land to cultivate and plant for myself. So that now\nI was like to be brought up to something by which I might live, without\nthat wretched thing called stealing, which my very soul abhorred, and\nwhich I had given over, as I have said, ever since that wicked time\nthat I robbed the poor widow of Kentish Town.\nIn this mind I was when I arrived at Virginia; and so, when the captain\ninquired of me what I intended to do, and whether I had anything to\npropose\u2014that is to say, he meant whether I would give him my bill,\nwhich he wanted to be fingering very much\u2014I answered coldly, my bill\nwould be of no use to me now, for nobody would advance anything upon\nit. Only this I would say to him, that if he would carry me and Captain\nJacque back to England, and to London again, I would pay him the \u00a320\noff my bill for each of us. This he had no mind to; \u201cfor, as to your\nbrother,\u201d says he, \u201cI would not take him into my ship for twice \u00a320, he\nis such a hardened, desperate villain,\u201d says he; \u201cI should be obliged\nto carry him in irons as I brought him hither.\u201d\nThus we parted with our captain or kidnapper, call him as you will. We\nwere then delivered to the merchants to whom we were consigned, who\nagain disposed of us as they thought fit; and in a few days we were\nseparated.\nAs for my Captain Jacque, to make short of the story, that desperate\nrogue had the luck to have a very easy, good master, whose easiness and\ngood humour he abused very much; and, in particular, took an\nopportunity to run away with a boat which his master entrusted him and\nanother with to carry some provisions down the river to another\nplantation which he had there. This boat and provisions they ran away\nwith, and sailed north to the bottom of the bay, as they call it, and\ninto a river called Susquehanna, and there quitting the boat, they\nwandered through the woods, till they came to Pennsylvania, from whence\nthey made shift to get passage to New England, and from thence home;\nwhere, falling in among his old companions and to the old trade, he was\nat length taken and hanged, about a month before I came to London,\nwhich was near twenty years afterwards.\nMy part was harder at the beginning, though better at the latter end. I\nwas disposed of, that is to say, sold, to a rich planter whose name was\nSmith, and with me the other Englishman, who was my fellow-deserter,\nthat Jacque brought me to when we went off from Dunbar.\nWe were now fellow-servants, and it was our lot to be carried up a\nsmall river or creek which falls into Potomac river, about eight miles\nfrom the great river. Here we were brought to the plantation, and put\nin among about fifty servants, as well negroes as others; and being\ndelivered to the head man, or director, or manager of the plantation,\nhe took care to let us know that we must expect to work, and very hard\ntoo; for it was for that purpose his master bought servants, and for no\nother. I told him, very submissively, that since it was our misfortune\nto come into such a miserable condition as we were in, we expected no\nother; only we desired we might be showed our business, and be allowed\nto learn it gradually, since he might be sure we had not been used to\nlabour; and I added that when he knew particularly by what methods we\nwere brought and betrayed into such a condition, he would perhaps see\ncause at least to show us that favour, if not more. This I spoke with\nsuch a moving tone as gave him a curiosity to inquire into the\nparticulars of our story, which I gave him at large, a little more to\nour advantage, too, than ordinary.\nThis story, as I hoped it would, did move him to a sort of tenderness;\nbut yet he told us that his master\u2019s business must be done, and that he\nexpected we must work as above; that he could not dispense with that\nupon any account whatever. Accordingly, to work we went; and indeed we\nhad three hard things attending us; namely, we worked hard, lodged\nhard, and fared hard. The first I had been an utter stranger to; the\nlast I could shift well enough with.\nDuring this scene of life I had time to reflect on my past hours, and\nupon what I had done in the world; and though I had no great capacity\nof making a clear judgment, and very little reflections from\nconscience, yet it made some impressions upon me; and particularly,\nthat I was brought into this miserable condition of a slave by some\nstrange directing power as a punishment for the wickedness of my\nyounger years; and this thought was increased upon the following\noccasion. The master whose service I was now engaged in was a man of\nsubstance and figure in the country, and had abundance of servants, as\nwell negroes as English; in all, I think, he had near two hundred; and\namong so many, as some grew every year infirm and unable to work,\nothers went off upon their time being expired, and others died; and by\nthese and other accidents the number would diminish, if they were not\noften recruited and filled, and this obliged him to buy more every\nyear.\nIt happened while I was here that a ship arrived from London with\nseveral servants, and among the rest was seventeen transported felons,\nsome burnt in the hand, others not; eight of whom my master bought for\nthe time specified in the warrant for their transportation\nrespectively, some for a longer, some a shorter, term of years.\nOur master was a great man in the country, and a justice of peace,\nthough he seldom came down to the plantation where I was. Yet, as the\nnew servants were brought on shore and delivered at our plantation, his\nworship came thither, in a kind of state, to see and receive them. When\nthey were brought before him I was called, among other servants, as a\nkind of guard, to take them into custody after he had seen them, and\ncarry them to the work. They were brought by a guard of seamen from the\nship, and the second mate of the ship came with them, and delivered\nthem to our master, with the warrant for their transportation, as\nabove.\nWhen his worship had read over the warrants, he called them over by\ntheir names, one by one, and having let them know, by his reading the\nwarrants over again to each man respectively, that he knew for what\noffences they were transported, he talked to every one separately very\ngravely; let them know how much favour they had received in being saved\nfrom the gallows, which the law had appointed for their crimes; that\nthey were not sentenced to be transported, but to be hanged, and that\ntransportation was granted them upon their own request and humble\npetition.\nThen he laid before them that they ought to look upon the life they\nwere just going to enter upon as just beginning the world again; that\nif they thought fit to be diligent and sober, they would, after the\ntime they were ordered to serve was expired, be encouraged by the\nconstitution of the country to settle and plant for themselves; and\nthat even he himself would be so kind to them, that if he lived to see\nany of them serve their time faithfully out, it was his custom to\nassist his servants in order to their settling in that country,\naccording as their behaviour might merit from him; and they would see\nand know several planters round about them who now were in very good\ncircumstances, and who formerly were only his servants, in the same\ncondition with them, and came from the same place\u2014that is to say,\nNewgate; and some of them had the mark of it in their hands, but were\nnow very honest men and lived in very good repute.\nAmong the rest of his new servants, he came to a young fellow not above\nseventeen or eighteen years of age, and his warrant mentions that he\nwas, though a young man, yet an old offender; that he had been several\ntimes condemned, but had been respited or pardoned, but still he\ncontinued an incorrigible pickpocket; that the crime for which he was\nnow transported was for picking a merchant\u2019s pocket-book, or\nletter-case, out of his pocket, in which was bills of exchange for a\nvery great sum of money; that he had afterwards received the money upon\nsome of the bills, but that going to a goldsmith in Lombard Street with\nanother bill, and having demanded the money, he was stopped, notice\nhaving been given of the loss of them; that he was condemned to die for\nthe felony, and being so well known for an old offender, had certainly\ndied, but the merchant, upon his earnest application, had obtained that\nhe should be transported, on condition that he restored all the rest of\nhis bills, which he had done accordingly.\nOur master talked a long time to this young fellow; mentioned, with\nsome surprise, that he so young should have followed such a wicked\ntrade so long as to obtain the name of an old offender at so young an\nage; and that he should be styled incorrigible, which is to signify\nthat notwithstanding his being whipped two or three times, and several\ntimes punished by imprisonment, and once burnt in the hand, yet nothing\nwould do him any good, but that he was still the same. He talked mighty\nreligiously to this boy, and told him God had not only spared him from\nthe gallows, but had now mercifully delivered him from the opportunity\nof committing the same sin again, and put it into his power to live an\nhonest life, which perhaps he knew not how to do before; and though\nsome part of his life now might be laborious, yet he ought to look on\nit to be no more than being put out apprentice to an honest trade, in\nwhich, when he came out of his time, he might be able to set up for\nhimself and live honestly.\nThen he told him that while he was a servant he would have no\nopportunity to be dishonest; so when he came to be for himself he would\nhave no temptation to it; and so, after a great many other kind things\nsaid to him and the rest, they were dismissed.\nI was exceedingly moved at this discourse of our master\u2019s, as anybody\nwould judge I must be, when it was directed to such a young rogue, born\na thief, and bred up a pickpocket, like myself; for I thought all my\nmaster said was spoken to me, and sometimes it came into my head that\nsure my master was some extraordinary man, and he knew all things that\never I had done in my life.\nBut I was surprised to the last degree when my master, dismissing all\nthe rest of us servants, pointed at me, and speaking to his head-clerk,\n\u201cHere,\u201d says he, \u201cbring that young fellow hither to me.\u201d\nI had been near a year in the work, and I had plied it so well that the\nclerk, or headman, either flattered me or did really believe that I\nbehaved very well. But I was terribly frighted to hear myself called\nout aloud, just as they used to call for such as had done some\nmisdemeanour, and were to be lashed or otherwise corrected.\nI came in like a malefactor indeed, and thought I looked like one just\ntaken in the fact and carried before the justice; and indeed when I\ncame in, for I was carried into an inner room or parlour in the house\nto him (his discourse to the rest was in a large hall, where he sat in\na seat like a lord judge upon the bench, or a petty king upon his\nthrone); when I came in, I say, he ordered his man to withdraw, and I\nstanding half naked and bare-headed, with my haugh, or hoe, in my hand\n(the posture and figure I was in at my work), near the door, he bade me\nlay down my hoe and come nearer. Then he began to look a little less\nstern and terrible than I fancied him to look before, or, perhaps, both\nhis countenance then and before might be to my imagination differing\nfrom what they really were; for we do not always judge those things by\nthe real temper of the person, but by the measure of our apprehensions.\n\u201cHark ye, young man, how old are you?\u201d says my master; and so our\ndialogue began.\n_Jacque_. Indeed, sir, I do not know.\n_Mast_. What is your name?\n_Jacque_. They call me Colonel[4] here, but my name is Jacque, an\u2019t\nplease your worship.\n_Mast_. But prithee, what is thy name?\n_Jacque_. Jacque.\n_Mast_. What! is thy Christian name, then, Colonel, and thy surname\nJacque?\n_Jacque_. Truly, sir, to tell your honour the truth, I know little or\nnothing of myself,[5] nor what my true name is; but thus I have been\ncalled ever since I remember. Which is my Christian name, or which my\nsurname, or whether I was ever christened or not, I cannot tell.\n_Mast_. Well, however, that\u2019s honestly answered. Pray, how came you\nhither, and on what account are you made a servant here?\n_Jacque_. I wish your honour could have patience with me to hear the\nwhole story; it is the hardest and most unjust thing that ever came\nbefore you.\n_Mast_. Say you so? Tell it me at large, then. I\u2019ll hear it, I promise\nthat, if it be an hour long.\nThis encouraged me, and I began at being a soldier, and being persuaded\nto desert at Dunbar, and gave him all the particulars, as they are\nrelated above, to the time of my coming on shore and the captain\ntalking to me about my bill after I arrived here. He held up his hands\nseveral times as I went on, expressing his abhorrence of the usage I\nhad met with at Newcastle, and inquired the name of the master of the\nship; \u201cfor,\u201d said he, \u201cthat captain, for all his smooth words, must be\na rogue.\u201d So I told him his name, and the name of the ship, and he took\nit down in his book, and then he went on.\n_Mast_. But pray answer me, honestly too, to another question: What was\nit made you so much concerned at my talking to the boy there, the\npickpocket?\n_Jacque_. An\u2019t please your honour, it moved me to hear you talk so\nkindly to a poor slave.\n_Mast_. And was that all? Speak truly now.\n_Jacque_. No, indeed; but a secret wish came into my thoughts, that\nyou, that were so good to such a creature as that, could but one way or\nother know my case, and that if you did, you would certainly pity me,\nand do something for me.\n_Mast_. Well, but was there nothing in his case that hit your own, that\nmade you so affected with it; for I saw tears come from your eyes and\nit was that made me call to speak to you?\n_Jacque_. Indeed, sir, I have been a wicked, idle boy, and was left\ndesolate in the world; but that boy is a thief, and condemned to be\nhanged. I never was before a court of justice in my life.\n_Mast_. Well, I won\u2019t examine you too far. If you were never before a\ncourt of justice, and are not a criminal transported, I have nothing\nfurther to inquire of you. You have been ill used, that\u2019s certain; and\nwas it that that affected you?\n_Jacque_. Yes, indeed, please your honour. (We all called him his\nhonour, or his worship.)\n_Mast_. Well, now I do know your case, what can I do for you? You speak\nof a bill of \u00a394 of which you would have given the captain \u00a340 for your\nliberty; have you that bill in your keeping still?\n_Jacque_. Yes, sir; here it is.\nI pulled it out of the waistband of my drawers, where I always found\nmeans to preserve it, wrapped up in a piece of paper, and pinned to the\nwaistband, and yet almost worn out, too, with often pinning and\nremoving. So I gave it to him to read, and he read it.\n_Mast_. And is this gentleman in being that gave you the bill?\n_Jacque_. Yes, sir; he was alive and in good health when I came from\nLondon, which you may see by the date of the bill, for I came away the\nnext day.\n_Mast_. I do not wonder that the captain of the ship was willing to get\nthis bill of you when you came on shore here.\n_Jacque_. I would have given it into his possession if he would have\ncarried me and my brother back again to England, and have taken what he\nasked for us out of it.\n_Mast_. Ay; but he knew better than that, too. He knew, if he had any\nfriends there, they would call him to an account for what he had done.\nBut I wonder he did not take it from you while you were at sea, either\nby fraud or by force.\n_Jacque_. He did not attempt that indeed.\n_Mast_. Well, young man, I have a mind to try if I can do you any\nservice in this case. On my word, if the money can be paid, and you can\nget it safe over, I might put you in a way how to be a better man than\nyour master, if you will be honest and diligent.\n_Jacque_. As I have behaved myself in your service, sir, you will, I\nhope, judge of the rest.\n_Mast_. But perhaps you hanker after returning to England?\n_Jacque_. No, indeed, sir; if I can but get my bread honestly here, I\nhave no mind to go to England; for I know not how to get my bread\nthere. If I had, I had not \u2019listed for a soldier.\n_Mast_. Well, but I must ask you some questions about that part\nhereafter; for \u2019tis indeed something strange that you should list for a\nsoldier when you had \u00a394 in your pocket.\n_Jacque_. I shall give your worship as particular account of that as I\nhave of the other part of my life, if you please; but \u2019tis very long.\n_Mast_. Well, we will have that another time. But to the case in hand.\nAre you willing I should send to anybody at London to talk with that\ngentleman that gave you the bill; not to take the money of him, but to\nask him only whether he has so much money of yours in his hands, and\nwhether he will part with it when you shall give order, and send the\nbill, or a duplicate of it; that is (says he) the copy? (And it was\nwell he did say so, for I did not understand the word duplicate at\nall.)\n_Jacque_. Yes, sir; I will give you the bill itself, if you please. I\ncan trust it with you, though I could not with him.\n_Mast_. No, no, young man, I won\u2019t take it from you.\n_Jacque_. I wish your worship would please to keep it for me, for if I\nshould lose it, then I am quite undone.\n_Mast_. I will keep it for you, Jacque, if you will; but then you shall\nhave a note under my hand, signifying that I have it, and will return\nit you upon demand, which will be as safe to you as the bill. I won\u2019t\ntake it else.\nSo I gave my master the bill, and he gave me his note for it; and he\nwas a faithful steward for me, as you will hear in its place. After\nthis conference I was dismissed, and went to my work; but about two\nhours after, the steward, or the overseer of the plantation, came\nriding by, and coming up to me as I was at work, pulled a bottle out of\nhis pocket, and calling me to him, gave me a dram of rum. When, in good\nmanners, I had taken but a little sup, he held it out to me again, and\nbade me take another, and spoke wondrous civilly to me, quite otherwise\nthan he used to do.\nThis encouraged me and heartened me very much, but yet I had no\nparticular view of anything, or which way I should have any relief.\nA day or two after, when we were all going out to our work in the\nmorning, the overseer called me to him again, and gave me a dram and a\ngood piece of bread, and bade me come off from my work about one\no\u2019clock, and come to him to the house, for he must speak with me.\nWhen I came to him, I came, to be sure, in the ordinary habit of a poor\nhalf-naked slave. \u201cCome hither, young man,\u201d says he, \u201cand give me your\nhoe.\u201d When I gave it him, \u201cWell,\u201d says he, \u201cyou are to work no more in\nthis plantation.\u201d\nI looked surprised, and as if I was frighted. \u201cWhat have I done, sir?\u201d\nsaid I; \u201cand whither am I to be sent away?\u201d\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d says he, and looked very pleasantly, \u201cdo not be frighted;\n\u2019tis for your good; \u2019tis not to hurt you. I am ordered to make an\noverseer of you, and you shall be a slave no longer.\u201d\n\u201cAlas!\u201d says I to him, \u201cI an overseer! I am in no condition for it. I\nhave no clothes to put on, no linen, nothing to help myself.\u201d\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d says he, \u201cyou may be better used than you are aware of.\nCome hither with me.\u201d So he led me into a vast, great warehouse, or,\nrather, set of warehouses, one within another, and calling the\nwarehouse-keeper, \u201cHere,\u201d says he, \u201cyou must clothe this man, and give\nhim everything necessary, upon the foot of number five, and give the\nbill to me. Our master has ordered me to allow it in the account of the\nwest plantation.\u201d That was, it seems, the plantation where I was to go.\nAccordingly, the warehouse-keeper carried me into an inner warehouse,\nwhere were several suits of clothes of the sort his orders mentioned,\nwhich were plain but good sorts of clothes, ready made, being of a good\nbroadcloth, about 11s. a yard in England; and with this he gave me\nthree good shirts, two pair of shoes, stockings, and gloves, a hat, six\nneckcloths, and, in short, everything I could want; and when he had\nlooked everything out, and fitted them, he lets me into a little room\nby itself. \u201cHere,\u201d says he; \u201cgo in there a slave, and come out a\ngentleman;\u201d and with that carried everything into the room, and,\nshutting the door, bid me put them on, which I did most willingly; and\nnow you may believe that I began to hope for something better than\nordinary.\nIn a little while after this came the overseer, and gave me joy of my\nnew clothes, and told me I must go with him. So I was carried to\nanother plantation, larger than that where I worked before, and where\nthere were two overseers or clerks; one within doors, and one without.\nThis last was removed to another plantation, and I was placed there in\nhis room (that is to say, as the clerk without doors), and my business\nwas to look after the servants and negroes, and take care that they did\ntheir business, provide their food, and, in short, both govern and\ndirect them.\nI was elevated to the highest degree in my thoughts at this\nadvancement, and it is impossible for me to express the joy of my mind\nupon this occasion; but there came a difficulty upon me, that shocked\nme so violently and went so against my very nature that I really had\nalmost forfeited my place about it, and, in all appearance, the favour\nof our master, who had been so generous to me; and this was, that when\nI entered upon my office, I had a horse given me and a long horsewhip,\nlike what we call in England a hunting-whip. The horse was to ride up\nand down all over the plantation, to see the servants and negroes did\ntheir work; and, the plantation being so large, it could not be done on\nfoot, at least so often and so effectively as was required; and the\nhorsewhip was given me to correct and lash the slaves and servants when\nthey proved negligent or quarrelsome, or, in short, were guilty of any\noffence. This part turned the very blood within my veins, and I could\nnot think of it with any temper, that I, who was but yesterday a\nservant or slave like them, and under the authority of the same lash,\nshould lift up my hand to the cruel work which was my terror but the\nday before. This, I say, I could not do; insomuch that the negroes\nperceived it, and I had soon so much contempt upon my authority that we\nwere all in disorder.\nThe ingratitude of their return for the compassion I showed them\nprovoked me, I confess, and a little hardened my heart; and I began\nwith the negroes, two of whom I was obliged to correct; and I thought I\ndid it most cruelly; but after I had lashed them till every blow I\nstruck them hurt myself and I was ready to faint at the work, the\nrogues laughed at me, and one of them had the impudence to say, behind\nmy back, that, if he had the whipping of me, he would show me better\nhow to whip a negro.\nWell, however, I had no power to do it in such a barbarous manner as I\nfound it was necessary to have it done; and the defect began to be a\ndetriment to our master\u2019s business. And now I began indeed to see that\nthe cruelty so much talked of, used in Virginia and Barbados, and other\ncolonies, in whipping the negro slaves, was not so much owing to the\ntyranny and passion and cruelty of the English, as had been reported,\nthe English not being accounted to be of a cruel disposition, and\nreally are not so; but that it is owing to the brutality and obstinate\ntemper of the negroes, who cannot be managed by kindness and courtesy,\nbut must be ruled with a rod of iron, beaten with scorpions, as the\nScripture calls it, and must be used as they do use them, or they would\nrise and murder all their masters; which, their numbers considered,\nwould not be hard for them to do, if they had arms and ammunition\nsuitable to the rage and cruelty of their nature.\nBut I began to see at the same time that this brutal temper of the\nnegroes was not rightly managed; that they did not take the best course\nwith them to make them sensible, either of mercy or punishment; and it\nwas evident to me that even the worst of those tempers might be brought\nto a compliance without the lash, or at least without so much of it as\nthey generally inflicted.\nOur master was really a man of humanity himself, and was sometimes so\nfull of tenderness that he would forbid the severities of his overseers\nand stewards; but he saw the necessity of it, and was obliged at last\nto leave it to the discretion of his upper servants. Yet he would often\nbid them be merciful, and bid them consider the difference of the\nconstitution of the bodies of the negroes, some being less able to bear\nthe tortures of their punishment than others, and some of them less\nobstinate, too, than others.\nHowever, somebody was so officious as to inform him against me upon\nthis occasion, and let him know that I neglected his affairs, and that\nthe servants were under no government; by which means his plantation\nwas not duly managed, and that all things were in disorder.\nThis was a heavy charge for a young overseer, and his honour came like\na judge, with all his attendants, to look into things and hear the\ncause. However, he was so just to me as that, before he censured me, he\nresolved to hear me fully, and that not only publicly, but in private\ntoo. And the last part of this was my particular good fortune; for, as\nhe had formerly allowed me to speak to him with freedom, so I had the\nlike freedom now, and had full liberty to explain and defend myself.\nI knew nothing of the complaint against me till I had it from his own\nmouth, nor anything of his coming till I saw him in the very\nplantation, viewing his work, and viewing the several pieces of ground\nthat were ordered to be new planted; and after he had rode all round,\nand seen things in the condition which they were to be seen in, how\nevery thing was in its due order, and the servants and negroes were all\nat work, and everything appearing to his mind, he went into the house.\nAs I saw him come up the walks I ran towards him and made my homage,\nand gave him my humble thanks for the goodness he had showed me in\ntaking me from the miserable condition I was in before, and employing\nand entrusting me in his business; and he looked pleasant enough,\nthough he did not say much at first; and I attended him through the\nwhole plantation, gave him an account of everything as we went along,\nanswered all his objections and inquiries everywhere in such a manner\nas it seems he did not expect; and, as he acknowledged afterwards,\neverything was very much to his satisfaction.\nThere was an overseer, as I observed, belonging to the same plantation,\nwho was, though not over me, yet in a work superior to mine; for his\nbusiness was to see the tobacco packed up and deliver it either on\nboard the sloops or otherwise, as our master ordered, and to receive\nEnglish goods from the grand warehouse, which was at the other\nplantation, because that was nearest the water-side; and, in short, to\nkeep the accounts.\nThis overseer, an honest and upright man, made no complaint to him of\nhis business being neglected, as above, or of anything like it, though\nhe inquired of him about it, and that very strictly, too.\nI should have said, that as he rid over the plantation, he came in his\nround to the place where the servants were usually corrected when they\nhad done any fault; and there stood two negroes, with their hands tied\nbehind them, as it were under sentence; and when he came near them they\nfell on their knees and made pitiful signs to him for mercy. \u201cAlas!\nalas!\u201d says he, turning to me, \u201cwhy did you bring me this way? I do not\nlove such sights. What must I do now? I must pardon them; prithee, what\nhave they done?\u201d I told him the particular offences which they were\nbrought to the place for. One had stole a bottle of rum, and had made\nhimself drunk with it, and, when he was drunk, had done a great many\nmad things, and had attempted to knock one of the white servants\u2019\nbrains out with a handspike, but that the white man had avoided the\nblow, and, striking up the negro\u2019s heels, had seized him and brought\nhim prisoner thither, where he had lain all night; and that I had told\nhim he was to be whipped that day, and the next three days, twice every\nday.\n\u201cAnd could you be so cruel?\u201d says his honour. \u201cWhy, you would kill the\npoor wretch; and so, beside the blood which you would have to answer\nfor, you would lose me a lusty man negro, which cost me at least \u00a330 or\n\u00a340, and bring a reproach upon my whole plantation. Nay, and more than\nthat, some of them in revenge would murder me, if ever it was in their\npower.\u201d\n\u201cSir,\u201d says I, \u201cif those fellows are not kept under by violence, I\nbelieve you are satisfied nothing is to be done with them; and it is\nreported in your works that I have been rather their jest than their\nterror, for want of using them as they deserve; and I was resolved, how\nmuch soever it is against my own disposition, that your service should\nnot suffer for my unseasonable forbearance; and therefore, if I had\nscourged him to death\u2014\u2014\u201d \u201cHold,\u201d says he; \u201cno, no, by no means any such\nseverity in my bounds. Remember, young man; you were once a servant.\nDeal as you would acknowledge it would be just to deal with you in his\ncase, and mingle always some mercy. I desire it, and let the\nconsequence of being too gentle be placed to my account.\u201d\nThis was as much as I could desire, and the more because what passed\nwas in public, and several, both negroes and white servants, as well as\nthe particular persons who had accused me, heard it all, though I did\nnot know it. \u201cA cruel dog of an overseer,\u201d says one of the white\nservants behind; \u201che would have whipped poor bullet-head\u201d\u2014so they\ncalled the negro that was to be punished\u2014\u201cto death if his honour had\nnot happened to come to-day.\u201d\nHowever, I urged the notorious crime this fellow was guilty of, and the\ndanger there was in such forbearance, from the refractory and\nincorrigible temper of the negroes, and pressed a little the necessity\nof making examples. But he said, \u201cWell, well, do it the next time, but\nnot now;\u201d so I said no more.\nThe other fellow\u2019s crime was trifling compared with this; and the\nmaster went forward, talking of it to me, and I following him, till we\ncame to the house; when, after he had been sat down a while, he called\nme to him, and, not suffering my accusers to come near till he had\nheard my defence, he began with me thus:\u2014\n_Mast_. Hark ye, young man, I must have some discourse with you. Your\nconduct is complained of since I set you over this plantation. I\nthought your sense of the obligation I had laid on you would have\nsecured your diligence and faithfulness to me.\n_Jacque_. I am very sorry any complaint should be made of me, because\nthe obligation I am under to your honour (and which I freely confess)\ndoes bind me to your interest in the strongest manner imaginable; and,\nhowever I may have mistaken my business, I am sure I have not willingly\nneglected it.\n_Mast_. Well, I shall not condemn you without hearing you, and\ntherefore I called you in now to tell you of it.\n_Jacque_. I humbly thank your honour. I have but one petition more, and\nthat is, that I may know my accusation; and, if you please, my\naccusers.\n_Mast_. The first you shall, and that is the reason of my talking to\nyou in private; and if there is any need of a further hearing, you\nshall know your accusers too. What you are charged with is just\ncontrary to what appeared to me just now, and therefore you and I must\ncome to a new understanding about it, for I thought I was too cunning\nfor you, and now I think you have been too cunning for me.\n_Jacque_. I hope your honour will not be offended that I do not fully\nunderstand you.\n_Mast_. I believe you do not. Come, tell me honestly, did you really\nintend to whip the poor negro twice a day for four days together; that\nis to say, to whip him to death, for that would have been the English\nof it, and the end of it?\n_Jacque_. If I may be permitted to guess, sir, I believe I know the\ncharge that is brought against me, and that your honour has been told\nthat I have been too gentle with the negroes, as well as other\nservants; and that when they deserved to be used with the accustomed\nseverity of the country, I have not given them half enough; and that by\nthis means they are careless of your business, and that your plantation\nis not well looked after, and the like.\n_Mast_. Well, you guess right. Go on.\n_Jacque_. The first part of the charge I confess, but the last I deny,\nand appeal to your honour\u2019s strictest examination into every part of\nit.\n_Mast_. If the last part could be true, I would be glad the first were;\nfor it would be an infinite satisfaction to me that, my business not\nbeing neglected, nor our safety endangered, those poor wretches could\nbe used with more humanity; for cruelty is the aversion of my nature,\nand it is the only uncomfortable thing that attends me in all my\nprosperity.\n_Jacque_. I freely acknowledge, sir, that at first it was impossible\nfor me to bring myself to that terrible work. How could I, that was but\njust come out of the terror of it myself, and had but the day before\nbeen a poor naked, miserable servant myself, and might be to-morrow\nreduced to the same condition again; how could I use this terrible\nweapon[6] on the naked flesh of my fellow-servants, as well as\nfellow-creatures? At least, sir, when my duty made it absolutely\nnecessary, I could not do it without the utmost horror. I beseech you,\npardon me if I have such a tenderness in my nature, that though I might\nbe fit to be your servant, I am incapable of being an executioner,\nhaving been an offender myself.\n_Mast_. Well, but how, then, can my business be done? And how will this\nterrible obstinacy of the negroes, who, they tell me, can be no\notherwise governed, be kept from neglect of their work, or even\ninsolence and rebellion?\n_Jacque_. This brings me, sir, to the latter part of my defence; and\nhere I hope your honour will be pleased to call my accusers, or that\nyou will give yourself the trouble of taking the exactest view of your\nplantation, and see, or let them show you, if anything is neglected, if\nyour business has suffered in anything, or if your negroes or other\nservants are under less government than they were before; and if, on\nthe contrary, I have found out that happy secret, to have good order\nkept, the business of the plantation done, and that with diligence and\ndespatch, and that the negroes are kept in awe, the natural temper of\nthem subjected, and the safety and peace of your family secured, as\nwell by gentle means as by rough, by moderate correction as by torture\nand barbarity, by a due awe of just discipline as by the horror of\nunsufferable torments, I hope your honour will not lay that sin to my\ncharge.\n_Mast_. No, indeed; you would be the most acceptable manager that ever\nI employed. But how, then, does this consist with the cruel sentence\nyou had passed on the poor fellow that is in your condemned hole\nyonder, who was to be whipped eight times in four days?\n_Jacque_. Very well, sir. First, sir, he remains under the terrible\napprehensions of a punishment so severe as no negro ever had before.\nThis fellow, with your leave, I intended to release to-morrow without\nany whipping at all, after talking to him in my way about his offence,\nand raising in his mind a sense of the value of pardon. And if this\nmakes him a better servant than the severest whipping will do, then, I\npresume, you would allow I have gained a point.\n_Mast_. Ay; but what if it should not be so? For these fellows have no\nsense of gratitude.\n_Jacque_. That is, sir, because they are never pardoned. If they\noffend, they never know what mercy is; and what, then, have they to be\ngrateful for?\n_Mast_. Thou art in the right indeed. Where there is no mercy showed,\nthere is no obligation laid upon them.\n_Jacque_. Besides, sir, if they have at any time been let go, which is\nvery seldom, they are not told what the case is. They take no pains\nwith them to imprint principles of gratitude on their minds, to tell\nthem what kindness is shown them, and what they are indebted for it,\nand what they might gain in the end by it.\n_Mast_. But do you think such usage would do? Would it make any\nimpression? You persuade yourself it would, but you see \u2019tis against\nthe received notion of the whole country.\n_Jacque_. There are, it may be, public and national mistakes and errors\nin conduct, and this is one.\n_Mast_. Have you tried it? You cannot say it is a mistake till you have\ntried and proved it to be so.\n_Jacque_. Your whole plantation is a proof of it. This very fellow had\nnever acted as he did if he had not gotten rum in his head, and been\nout of the government of himself; so that, indeed, all the offence I\nought to have punished him for had been that of stealing a bottle of\nrum and drinking it all up; in which case, like Noah, he did not know\nthe strength of it, and when he had it in his head he was a madman, he\nwas as one raging and distracted; so that, for all the rest, he\ndeserved pity rather than punishment.\n_Mast_. Thou art right, certainly right, and thou wilt be a rare fellow\nif thou canst bring these notions into practice. I wish you had tried\nit upon any one particular negro, that I might see an example. I would\ngive \u00a3500 if it could be brought to bear.\n_Jacque_. I desire nothing, sir, but your favour, and the advantage of\nobliging you. I will show you an example of it among your own negroes,\nand all the plantation will acknowledge it.\n_Mast_. You make my very heart glad within me, Jacque. If you can bring\nthis to pass, I here give you my word I\u2019ll not only give you your own\nfreedom, but make a man of you for this world as long as you live.\nUpon this I bowed to him very respectfully, and told him the following\nstory:\u2014\u2018There is a negro, sir, in your plantation who has been your\nservant several years before I came. He did a fault that was of no\ngreat consequence in itself, but perhaps would have been worse if they\nhad indeed gone further; and I had him brought into the usual place,\nand tied him by the thumbs for correction, and he was told that he\nshould be whipped and pickled in a dreadful manner. After I had made\nproper impressions on his mind of the terror of his punishment, and\nfound that he was sufficiently humbled by it, I went into the house,\nand caused him to be brought out, just as they do when they go to\ncorrect the negroes on such occasions. When he was stripped and tied up\nhe had two lashes given him, that was indeed very cruel ones, and I\ncalled to them to hold. \u2018Hold!\u2019 said I to the two men that had just\nbegan to lay on upon the poor fellow: \u2018Hold!\u2019 said I, \u2018let me talk with\nhim.\u2019\n\u201cSo he was taken down. Then I began and represented to him how kind\nyou, that were his great master,[7] had been to him; that you had never\ndone him any harm; that you had used him gently, and he had never been\nbrought to this punishment in so many years, though he had done some\nfaults before; that this was a notorious offence, for he had stolen\nsome rum, and made himself and two other negroes drunk-mad;[8] and had\nabused two women negroes, who had husbands in our master\u2019s service, but\nin another plantation; and played several pranks, and for this I had\nappointed him this punishment.\n\u201cHe shook his head, and made signs that he was _muchee sorree_, as he\ncalled it. \u2018And what will you say or do,\u2019 said I, \u2018if I should prevail\nwith the great master to pardon you? I have a mind to go and see if I\ncan beg for you.\u2019 He told me he would lie down, let me kill him. \u2018Me\nwill,\u2019 says he, \u2018run, go, fetch, bring for you as long as me live.\u2019\nThis was the opportunity I had a mind to have, to try whether, as\nnegroes have all the other faculties of reasonable creatures, they had\nnot also some sense of kindness, some principles of natural generosity,\nwhich, in short, is the foundation of gratitude; for gratitude is the\nproduct of generous principles.\u201d\n\u201cYou please me with the beginning of this story,\u201d says he; \u201cI hope you\nhave carried it on.\u201d\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d says I; \u201cit has been carried on further perhaps than you\nimagine, or will think has been possible in such a case.\n\u201cBut I was not so arrogant as to assume the merit to myself. \u2018No, no,\u2019\nsaid I, \u2018I do not ask you to go or run for me; you must do all that for\nour great master, for it will be from him entirely that you will be\npardoned at all, for your offence is against him; and what will you\nsay? Will you be grateful to him, and run, go, fetch, bring, for him,\nas long as you live, as you have said you would for me?\u2019\n\u201c\u2019Yes, indeed,\u2019 says he, \u2018and muchee do, muchee do, for you too\u2019 (he\nwould not leave me out); \u2018you ask him for me.\u2019\n\u201cWell, I put off all his promised gratitude to me from myself, as was\nmy duty, and placed it to your account; told him I knew you was muchee\ngood, muchee pitiful, and I would persuade you if I could; and so told\nhim I would go to you, and he should be whipped no more till I came\nagain; but, \u2018Hark ye, Mouchat,\u2019 says I (that was the negro\u2019s name),\n\u2019they tell me, when I came hither, that there is no showing kindness to\nany of you negroes; that when we spare you from whipping you laugh at\nus, and are the worse.\u2019\n\u201cHe looked very serious at me, and said, \u2018Oh, that not so; the masters\nsay so, but no be so, no be so, indeede, indeede,\u2019 and so we parleyed.\u201d\n_Jacque_. Why do they say so, then? To be sure they have tried you all.\n_Negro_. No, no, they no try; they say so, but no try.\n_Jacque_. I hear them all say so.\n_Negro_. Me tell you the true; they have no mercie; they beat us cruel,\nall cruel; they never have show mercie. How can they tell we be no\nbetter?\n_Jacque_. What! do they never spare?\n_Negro_. Master, me speakee the true; they never give mercie; they\nalways whippee, lashee, knockee down, all cruel. Negro be muchee better\nman, do muchee better work, but they tell us no mercie.\n_Jacque_. But what, do they never show any mercy?\n_Negro_. No, never; no, never; all whippee; all whippee, cruel, worse\nthan they whippee de horse, whippee de dog.\n_Jacque_. But would they be better if they did?\n_Negro_. Yes, yes; negro be muchee better if they be mercie. When they\nbe whippee, whippee, negro muchee cry, muchee hate; would kill if they\nhad de gun. But when they makee de mercie, then negro tell de great\ntankee, and love to worke, and do muchee worke; and because he good\nmaster to them.\n_Jacque_. They say no; you would laugh at them and mock when they show\nmercy.\n_Negro_. How they say when they show mercie? They never show mercie; me\nnever see them show one mercie since me live.\n\u201cNow, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cif this be so, really they go, I dare say,\ncontrary to your inclination, for I see you are but too full of pity\nfor the miserable. I saw it in my own case; and upon a presumption that\nyou had rather have your work done from a principle of love than fear,\nwithout making your servants bleed for every trifle, if it were\npossible; I say, upon this presumption I dealt with this Mouchat, as\nyou shall hear.\u201d\n_Mast_. I have never met with anything of this kind since I have been a\nplanter, which is now about forty years. I am delighted with the story.\nGo on; I expect a pleasant conclusion.\n_Jacque_. The conclusion, sir, will be, I believe, as much to your\nsatisfaction as the beginning; for it every way answered my\nexpectation, and will yours also, and show you how you might be\nfaithfully served if you pleased, for \u2019tis certain you are not so\nserved now.\n_Mast_. No, indeed; they serve me but just as they do the devil, for\nfear I should hurt them. But \u2019tis contrary to an ingenuous spirit to\ndelight in such service. I abhor it, if I could but know how to get any\nother.\n_Jacque_. It is easy, sir, to show you that you may be served upon\nbetter principles, and consequently be better served, and more to your\nsatisfaction; and I dare undertake to convince you of it.\n_Mast_. Well, go on with the story.\n_Jacque_. After I had talked thus to him I said, \u201cWell, Mouchat, I\nshall see how you will be afterwards, if I can get our great master to\nbe merciful to you at this time.\u201d\n_Negro_. Yes, you shall see; you muchee see, muchee see.\n\u201cUpon this I called for my horse and went from him, and made as if I\nrode away to you, who they told me was in the next plantation; and\nhaving stayed four or five hours, I came back and talked to him again,\ntold him that I had waited on you, and that you had heard of his\noffence, was highly provoked, and had resolved to cause him to be\nseverely punished for an example to all the negroes in the plantation;\nbut that I had told you how penitent he was, and how good he would be\nif you would pardon him; and had at last prevailed on you. That you had\ntold me what all people said of the negroes; how, that to show them\nmercy was to make them think you were never in earnest with them, and\nthat you did but trifle and play with them. However, that I had told\nyou what he had said of himself, and that it was not true of the\nnegroes, and that the white men said it, but that they could not know\nbecause they did never show any mercy, and therefore had never tried;\nthat I had persuaded you to show mercy, to try whether kindness would\nprevail as much as cruelty. \u2018And now, Mouchat,\u2019 said I, \u2018you will be\nlet go. Pray let our great master see that I have said true.\u2019 So I\nordered him to be untied, gave him a dram of rum out of my\npocket-bottle, and ordered them to give him some victuals.\n\u201cWhen the fellow was let loose, he came to me and kneeled down to me,\nand took hold of my legs and of my feet, and laid his head upon the\nground, and sobbed and cried like a child that had been corrected, but\ncould not speak for his life; and thus he continued a long time. I\nwould have taken him up, but he would not rise; but I cried as fast as\nhe, for I could not bear to see a poor wretch lie on the ground to me,\nthat was but a servant the other day like himself. At last, but not\ntill a quarter of an hour, I made him get up, and then he spoke. \u2018Me\nmuchee know good great master, muchee good you master. No negro\nunthankful; me die for them, do me so muchee kind.\u2019\n\u201cI dismissed him then, and bid him go to his wife (for he was married),\nand not work that afternoon; but as he was going away I called him\nagain, and talked thus to him.\n\u201c\u2019Now, Mouchat,\u2019 says I, \u2018you see the white men can show mercy. Now you\nmust tell all the negroes what has been reported of them; that they\nregard nothing but the whip; that if they are used gently they are the\nworse, not the better; and that this is the reason why the white men\nshow them no mercy; and convince them that they would be much better\ntreated and used kindlier if they would show themselves as grateful for\nkind usage as humble after torment; and see if you can work on them.\u2019\n\u201c\u2019Me go, me go,\u2019 says he; \u2018me muchee talk to them. They be muchee glad\nas me be, and do great work to be used kind by de great master.\u2019\u201d\n_Mast_. Well, but now what testimony have you of this gratitude you\nspeak of? Have you seen any alteration among them?\n_Jacque_. I come next to that part, sir. About a month after this I\ncaused a report to be spread abroad in the plantation that I had\noffended you, the great master, and that I was turned out of the\nplantation, and was to be hanged. Your honour knows that some time ago\nyou sent me upon your particular business into Potuxent River, where I\nwas absent twelve days; then I took the opportunity to have this report\nspread about among the negroes, to see how it would work.\n_Mast_. What! to see how Mouchat would take it?\n_Jacque_. Yes, sir; and it made a discovery indeed. The poor fellow did\nnot believe it presently, but finding I was still absent, he went to\nthe head-clerk, and standing at his door, said nothing, but looked like\na fool of ten years old. After some time the upper overseer came out,\nand seeing him stand there, at first said nothing, supposing he had\nbeen sent of some errand; but observing him to stand stock-still, and\nthat he was in the same posture and place during the time that he had\npassed and repassed two or three times, he stops short the last time of\nhis coming by. \u201cWhat do you want,\u201d says he to him, \u201cthat you stand idle\nhere so long?\u201d\n\u201c\u2019Me speakee; me tell something,\u2019 says he.\n\u201cThen the overseer thought some discovery was at hand, and began to\nlisten to him. \u2018What would you tell me?\u2019 says he.\n\u201c\u2019Me tell! Pray,\u2019 says he, \u2018where be de other master?\u2019\n\u201cHe meant he would ask where he was. \u2018What other master do you mean?\u2019\nsays the clerk. \u2018What! do you want to speak with the great master? He\ncan\u2019t be spoke with by you. Pray what is your business? Cannot you tell\nit to me?\u2019\n\u201c\u2019No, no; me no speakee the great master\u2014the other master,\u2019 says\nMouchat.\u201d\n\u201c\u2019What! the colonel?\u2019 says the clerk.\n\u201c\u2019Yes, yes; the colonel,\u2019 says he.\n\u201c\u2019Why, don\u2019t you know that he is to be hanged to-morrow,\u2019 says the\nclerk, \u2018for making the great master angry?\u2019[9]\n\u201c\u2019Yes, yes,\u2019 says Mouchat; \u2018me know, me know; but me want speak; me\ntell something.\u2019\n\u201c\u2019Well, what would you say?\u2019 says the clerk.\n\u201c\u2019Oh! me no let him makee de great master angry.\u2019 With that he kneeled\ndown to the clerk.\n\u201c\u2019What ails you?\u2019 says the clerk. \u2018I tell you he must be hanged.\u2019\n\u201c\u2019No, no,\u2019 says he; \u2018no hang de master. Me kneel for him to great\nmaster.\u2019\n\u201c\u2019You kneel for him!\u2019 says the clerk.[10] \u2019What! do you think the great\nmaster will mind you? He has made the great master angry, and must be\nhanged, I tell you. What signifies your begging?\u2019\n\u201c_Negro_. Oh! me pray, me pray the great master for him.\n\u201c_Clerk_. Why, what ails you that you would pray for him?\n\u201c_Negro_. Oh! he beggee the great master for me; now me beggee for him.\nThe great master muchee good, muchee good; he pardon me when the other\nmaster beggee me; now he pardon him when me beggee for him again.\n\u201c_Clerk_. No, no; your begging won\u2019t do. Will you be hanged for him? If\nyou do that, something may be.\n\u201c_Negro_. Yes, yes; me be hang for de poor master that beggee for me.\nMouchat shall hang; the great master shall hangee me, whippee me;\nanything to save the poor master that beggee me; yes, yes, indeed.\n\u201c_Clerk_. Are you in earnest, Mouchat?\n\u201c_Negro_. Yes, indeed; me tellee de true. The great master shall know\nme tellee de true, for he shall see the white man hangee me, Mouchat.\nPoor negro Mouchat will be hangee, be whippee, anything for the poor\nmaster that beggee for me.\n\u201cWith this the poor fellow cried most pitifully, and there was no room\nto question his being in earnest; when on a sudden I appeared, for I\nwas fetched to see all this transaction. I was not in the house at\nfirst, but was just come home from the business you sent me of, and\nheard it all; and indeed neither the clerk or I could bear it any\nlonger, so he came out to me. \u2018Go to him,\u2019 says he; \u2018you have made an\nexample that will never be forgot, that a negro can be grateful. Go to\nhim,\u2019 adds he, \u2018for I can talk to him no longer.\u2019 So I appeared, and\nspoke to him presently, and let him see that I was at liberty; but to\nhear how the poor fellow behaved your honour cannot but be pleased.\u201d\n_Mast_. Prithee go on. I am pleased with it all; \u2019tis all a new scene\nof negro life to me, and very moving.\n_Jacque_. For a good while he stood as if he had been thunderstruck and\nstupid; but, looking steadily at me, though not speaking a word, at\nlast he mutters to himself, with a kind of laugh, \u201cAy, ay,\u201d says he,\n\u201cMouchat see, Mouchat no see; me wakee, me no wakee; no hangee, no\nhangee; he live truly, very live;\u201d and then on a sudden he runs to me,\nsnatches me away as if I had been a boy of ten years old, and takes me\nup upon his back and runs away with me, till I was fain to cry out to\nhim to stop. Then he sets me down, and looks at me again, then falls\na-dancing about me as if he had been bewitched, just as you have seen\nthem do about their wives and children when they are merry.\n\u201cWell, then, he began to talk with me, and told me what they had said\nto him, how I was to be hanged. \u2018Well,\u2019 says I, \u2018Mouchat, and would you\nhave been satisfied to be hanged to save me?\u2019 \u2018Yes, yes,\u2019 says he; \u2019be\ntruly hangee, to beggee you.\u2019\n\u201c\u2019But why do you love me so well, Mouchat?\u2019 said I.\n\u201c\u2019Did you no beggee me,\u2019 he says, \u2018at the great master? You savee me,\nmake great master muchee good, muchee kind, no whippee me; me no\nforget; me be whipped, be hanged, that you no be hanged; me die, that\nyou no die; me no let any bad be with you all while that me live.\u2019\n\u201cNow, sir, your honour may judge whether kindness, well managed, would\nnot oblige these people as well as cruelty, and whether there are\nprinciples of gratitude in them or no.\u201d\n_Mast_. But what, then, can be the reason that we never believed it to\nbe so before?\n_Jacque_. Truly, sir, I fear that Mouchat gave the true reason.\n_Mast_. What was that, pray? That we were too cruel?\n_Jacque_. That they never had any mercy showed them; that we never\ntried them whether they would be grateful or no; that if they did a\nfault they were never spared, but punished with the utmost cruelty; so\nthat they had no passion, no affection, to act upon but that of fear,\nwhich necessarily brought hatred with it; but that if they were used\nwith compassion they would serve with affection as well as other\nservants. Nature is the same, and reason governs in just proportions in\nall creatures; but having never been let taste what mercy is, they know\nnot how to act from a principle of love.\n_Mast_. I am convinced it is so. But now, pray tell me, how did you put\nthis in practice with the poor negroes now in bonds yonder, when you\npassed such a cruel sentence upon them that they should be whipped\ntwice a day, for four days together? Was that showing mercy?\n_Jacque_. My method was just the same; and if you please to inquire of\nMr.\u2014\u2014, your other servant, you will be satisfied that it was so; for we\nagreed upon the same measures as I took with Mouchat; namely, first to\nput them into the utmost horror and apprehensions of the cruellest\npunishment that they ever heard of, and thereby enhance the value of\ntheir pardon, which was to come as from yourself, but not without our\ngreat intercession. Then I was to argue with them, and work upon their\nreason, to make the mercy that was showed them sink deep into their\nminds and give lasting impressions; explain the meaning of gratitude to\nthem, and the nature of an obligation, and the like, as I had done with\nMouchat.\n_Mast_. I am answered. Your method is certainly right, and I desire you\nmay go on with it; for I desire nothing on this side heaven more than\nto have all my negroes serve me from principles of gratitude for my\nkindness to them. I abhor to be feared like a lion, like a tyrant. It\nis a violence upon nature every way, and is the most disagreeable thing\nin the world to a generous mind.\n_Jacque_. But, sir, I am doubtful that you may not believe that I\nintended to act thus with those poor fellows. I beseech you to send for\nMr.\u2014\u2014, that he may tell you what we had agreed on before I speak with\nhim.\n_Mast_. What reason have I to doubt that?\n_Jacque_. I hope you have not; but I should be very sorry you should\nthink me capable of executing such a sentence as you have heard me own\nI had passed on them, and there can be no way effectually to clear it\nup but this.\n_Mast_. Well, seeing you put so much weight upon it, he shall be called\nfor.\n[He was called, and being ordered by the master to tell the measures\nthat were concerted between them for the punishment or management of\nthose negroes, he gave it just as Jacque had done before.]\n_Jacque_. I hope, sir, you are now not only satisfied of the truth of\nthe account I gave relating to the method we had agreed on, but of its\nbeing so proper and so likely to answer your end.\n_Mast_. I am fully satisfied, and shall be glad to see that it answers\nthe end; for, as I have said, nothing can be more agreeable to me.\nNothing has so much robbed me of the comfort of all my fortunes as the\ncruelty used, in my name, on the bodies of those poor slaves.\n_Jacque_. It is certainly wrong, sir; it is not only wrong as it is\nbarbarous and cruel; but it is wrong, too, as it is the worst way of\nmanaging and of having your business done.\n_Mast_. It is my aversion; it fills my very soul with horror. I believe\nif I should come by while they were using those cruelties on the poor\ncreatures, I should either sink down at the sight of it or fly into a\nrage and kill the fellow that did it; though it is done, too, by my own\nauthority.\n_Jacque_. But, sir, I dare say I shall convince you also that it is\nwrong in respect of interest, and that your business shall be better\ndischarged and your plantations better ordered, and more work done by\nthe negroes who shall be engaged by mercy and lenity than by those who\nare driven and dragged by the whips and the chains of a merciless\ntormentor.\n_Mast_. I think the nature of the thing speaks itself. Doubtless it\nshould be so, and I have often thought it would be so, and a thousand\ntimes wished it might be so; but all my English people pretend\notherwise, and that it is impossible to bring the negroes to any sense\nof kindness, and consequently not to any obedience of love.\n_Jacque_. It may be true, sir, that there may be found here and there a\nnegro of a senseless, stupid, sordid disposition, perfectly\nuntractable, undocible, and incapable of due impressions; especially\nincapable of the generosity of principle which I am speaking of. You\nknow very well, sir, there are such among Christians as well as among\nthe negroes; whence else came the English proverb, That if you save a\nthief from the gallows, he shall be the first to cut your throat. But,\nsir, if such a refractory, undocible fellow comes in our way, he must\nbe dealt with, first by the smooth ways to try him, then by the violent\nway to break his temper, as they break a horse; and if nothing will do,\nsuch a wretch should be sold off, and others bought in his room; for\nthe peace of the plantation should not be broken for one\ndevilish-tempered fellow. And if this was done I doubt not you should\nhave all your plantations carried on and your work done, and not a\nnegro or a servant upon it but what would not only work for you, but\neven die for you, if there was an occasion for it, as you see this poor\nMouchat would have done for me.\n_Mast_. Well, go on with your measures, and may you succeed. I\u2019ll\npromise you I will fully make you amends for it. I long to have these\ncruelties out of use, in my plantation especially. As for others, let\nthem do as they will.\nOur master being gone, I went to the prisoners, and first I suffered\nthem to be told that the great master had been there, and that he had\nbeen inclined to pardon them, till he knew what their crime was; but\nthen he said it was so great a fault that it must be punished. Besides,\nthe man that talked to them told them that the great master said that\nhe knew if he had pardoned them they would be but the worse, for that\nthe negroes were never thankful for being spared, and that there were\nno other ways to make them obedient but severity.\nOne of the poor fellows, more sensible than the other, answered, if any\nnegro be badder for being kindly used, they should be whipped till they\nwere muchee better; but that he never knew that, for that he never knew\nthe negro be kindly use.\nThis was the same thing as the other had said, and indeed was but too\ntrue, for the overseers really knew no such thing as mercy; and that\nnotion of the negroes being no other way to be governed but by cruelty\nhad been the occasion that no other method was ever tried among them.\nAgain, if a slack hand had at any time been held upon them, it had not\nbeen done with discretion, or as a point of mercy, and managed with the\nassistance of argument to convince the negroes of the nature and reason\nof it, and to show them what they ought to do in return for it; but it\nwas perhaps the effect of negligence, ill conduct, and want of\napplication to the business of the plantation; and then it was no\nwonder that the negroes took the advantage of it.\nWell, I carried on the affair with these two negroes just as I did with\nMouchat, so I need not repeat the particulars; and they were delivered\nwith infinite acknowledgments and thanks, even to all the extravagances\nof joy usual in those people on such occasions. And such was the\ngratitude of those two pardoned fellows that they were the most\nfaithful and most diligent servants ever after that belonged to the\nwhole plantation, Mouchat excepted.\nIn this manner I carried on the plantation fully to his satisfaction;\nand before a year more was expired there was scarce any such thing as\ncorrection known in the plantation, except upon a few boys, who were\nincapable of the impressions that good usage would have made, even upon\nthem too, till they had lived to know the difference.\nIt was some time after this conference that our great master, as we\ncalled him, sent for me again to his dwelling-house, and told me he had\nhad an answer from England from his friend, to whom he had written\nabout my bill. I was a little afraid that he was going to ask me leave\nto send it to London; but he did not say anything like that, but told\nme that his friend had been with the gentleman, and that he owned the\nbill, and that he had all the money in his hand that the bill had\nmentioned; but that he had promised the young man that had given him\nthe money (meaning me) not to pay the money to anybody but himself,\nthough they should bring the bill; the reason of which was, that I did\nnot know who might get the bill away from me.\n\u201cBut now, Colonel Jacque,\u201d says he, \u201cas you wrote him an account where\nyou was, and by what wicked arts you were trepanned, and that it was\nimpossible for you to have your liberty till you could get the money,\nmy friend at London has written to me, that, upon making out a due copy\nof the bill here, attested by a notary and sent to him, and your\nobligation likewise attested, whereby you oblige yourself to deliver\nthe original to his order after the money is paid, he will pay the\nmoney.\u201d\nI told him I was willing to do whatever his honour directed; and so the\nproper copies were drawn as I had been told were required.\n\u201cBut now, what will you do with this money, Jacque?\u201d says he, smiling.\n\u201cWill you buy your liberty of me, and go to planting?\u201d\nI was too cunning for him now indeed, for I remembered what he had\npromised me; and I had too much knowledge of the honesty of his\nprinciples, as well as of the kindness he had for me, to doubt his\nbeing as good as his word; so I turned all this talk of his upon him\nanother way. I knew that when he asked me if I would buy my liberty and\ngo to planting, it was to try if I would leave him; so I said, \u201cAs to\nbuying my liberty, sir\u2014that is to say, going out of your service\u2014I had\nmuch rather buy more time in your service, and I am only unhappy that I\nhave but two years to serve.\u201d\n\u201cCome, come, colonel,\u201d says he, \u201cdon\u2019t flatter me; I love plain\ndealing. Liberty is precious to everybody; if you have a mind to have\nyour money brought over, you shall have your liberty to begin for\nyourself, and I will take care you shall be well used by the country,\nand get you a good plantation.\u201d\nI still insisted that I would not quit his service for the best\nplantation in Maryland; that he had been so good to me, and I believed\nI was so useful to him, that I could not think of it; and at last I\nadded I hoped he could not believe but I had as much gratitude as a\nnegro.\nHe smiled, and said he would not be served upon those terms; that he\ndid not forget what he had promised, nor what I had done in his\nplantation; and that he was resolved in the first place to give me my\nliberty. So he pulls out a piece of paper, and throws it to me:\n\u201cThere,\u201d says he, \u201cthere\u2019s a certificate of your coming on shore, and\nbeing sold to me for five years, of which you have lived three with me;\nand now you are your own master.\u201d I bowed, and told him that I was\nsure, if I was my own master, I would be his servant as long as he\nwould accept of my service. And now we strained courtesies, and he told\nme I should be his servant still; but it should be on two conditions:\nfirst, that he would give me \u00a330 a year and my board for my managing\nthe plantation I was then employed in; and, secondly, that at the same\ntime he would procure me a new plantation to begin upon my own account,\n\u201cFor, Colonel Jacque,\u201d says he, smiling, \u201cthough you are but a young\nman, yet \u2019tis time you were doing something for yourself.\u201d\nI answered that I could do little at a plantation for myself, unless I\nneglected his business, which I was resolved not to do on any terms\nwhatever, but that I would serve him faithfully, if he would accept of\nme, as long as he lived. \u201cSo you shall,\u201d says he again, \u201cand serve\nyourself too.\u201d And thus we parted for that time.\nHere I am to observe in the general, to avoid dwelling too long upon a\nstory, that as the two negroes who I delivered from punishment were\never after the most diligent and laborious poor fellows in the whole\nplantation as above, except Mouchat, of whom I shall speak more\nby-and-by, so they not only were grateful themselves for their good\nusage, but they influenced the whole plantation; so that the gentle\nusage and lenity with which they had been treated had a thousand times\nmore influence upon them to make them diligent than all the blows and\nkicks, whippings, and other tortures could have which they had been\nused to. And now the plantation was famous for it; so that several\nother planters began to do the same, though I cannot say it was with\nthe same success, which might be for want of taking pains with them and\nworking upon their passions in a right manner. It appeared that negroes\nwere to be reasoned into things as well as other people, and it was by\nthus managing their reason that most of the work was done.\nHowever, as it was, the plantations in Maryland were the better for\nthis undertaking, and they are to this day less cruel and barbarous to\ntheir negroes than they are in Barbados and Jamaica; and \u2019tis observed\nthe negroes are not in these colonies so desperate, neither do they so\noften run away or so often plot mischief against their master, as they\ndo in those.\nI have dwelt the longer upon it that, if possible, posterity might be\npersuaded to try gentler methods with those miserable creatures, and to\nuse them with humanity; assuring them that if they did so, adding the\ncommon prudence that every particular case would direct them to for\nitself, the negroes would do their work faithfully and cheerfully; they\nwould not find any of that refractoriness and sullenness in their\ntemper that they pretend now to complain of, but they would be the same\nas their Christian servants, except that they would be the more\nthankful, and humble, and laborious of the two.\nI continued in this station between five and six years after this, and\nin all that time we had not one negro whipped, except, as I observed\nbefore, now and then an unlucky boy, and that only for trifles. I\ncannot say but we had some ill-natured, ungovernable negroes; but if at\nany time such offended, they were pardoned the first time, in the\nmanner as above, and the second time were ordered to be turned out of\nthe plantation. And this was remarkable, that they would torment\nthemselves at the apprehension of being turned away, more by a great\ndeal than if they had been to be whipped, for then they were only\nsullen and heavy. Nay, at length we found the fear of being turned out\nof the plantation had as much effect to reform them\u2014that is to say,\nmake them more diligent\u2014than any torture would have done; and the\nreason was evident, namely, because in our plantation they were used\nlike men, in the other like dogs.\nMy master owned the satisfaction he took in this blessed change, as he\ncalled it, as long as he lived; and as he was so engaged by seeing the\nnegroes grateful, he showed the same principle of gratitude to those\nthat served him as he looked for in those that he served, and\nparticularly to me; and so I come briefly to that part. The first thing\nhe did after giving me my liberty as above, and making me an allowance,\nwas to get the country bounty to me\u2014that is to say, a quantity of land\nto begin and plant for myself.\nBut this he managed a way by himself, and, as I found afterwards, took\nup, that is, purchased in my name, about three hundred acres of land,\nin a more convenient place than it would have otherwise been allotted\nme; and this he did by his interest with the lord proprietor; so that I\nhad an extent of ground marked out to me, not next but very near one of\nhis own plantations. When I made my acknowledgment for this to him, he\ntold me plainly that I was not beholden to him for it all; for he did\nit that I might not be obliged to neglect his business for the carrying\non my own, and on that account he would not reckon to me what money he\npaid, which, however, according to the custom of the country, was not a\nvery great sum\u2014I think about \u00a340 or \u00a350.\nThus he very generously gave me my liberty, advanced this money for me,\nput me into a plantation for myself, and gave me \u00a330 a year wages for\nlooking after one of his own plantations.\n\u201cBut, Colonel,\u201d says he to me, \u201cgiving you this plantation is nothing\nat all to you if I do not assist you to support it and to carry it on,\nand therefore I will give you credit for whatever is needful to you for\nthe carrying it on; such as tools, provisions for servants, and some\nservants to begin; materials to build outhouses, and conveniences of\nall sorts for the plantation, and to buy hogs, cows, horses for stock,\nand the like; and I\u2019ll take it out of your cargo, which will come from\nLondon, for the money of your bill.\u201d\nThis was highly obliging and very kind, and the more so, as it\nafterwards appeared. In order to this he sent two servants of his own\nwho were carpenters. As for timber, boards, planks, and all sorts of\nsuch things, in a country almost all made of wood they could not be\nwanting. These run me up a little wooden house in less than three\nweeks\u2019 time, where I had three rooms, a kitchen, an outhouse, and two\nlarge sheds at a distance from the house for store houses, almost like\nbarns, with stables at the end of them; and thus I was set up in the\nworld, and, in short, removed by the degrees that you have heard from a\npickpocket to a kidnapped, miserable slave in Virginia (for Maryland is\nVirginia, speaking of them at a distance); then from a slave to a\nhead-officer or overseer of slaves, and from thence to a\nmaster-planter.\nI had now, as above, a house, a stable, two warehouses, and three\nhundred acres of land; but, as we say, bare walls make giddy hussies,\nso I had neither axe nor hatchet to cut down the trees; horse, nor hog,\nnor cow to put upon the land; not a hoe or a spade to break ground, nor\na pair of hands but my own to go to work upon.\nBut Heaven and kind masters make up all those things to a diligent\nservant; and I mention it because people who are either transported or\notherwise trepanned into those places are generally thought to be\nrendered miserable and undone; whereas, on the contrary, I would\nencourage them, upon my own experience, to depend upon it, that if\ntheir own diligence in the time of service gains them but a good\ncharacter, which it will certainly do if they can deserve it, there is\nnot the poorest and most despicable felon that ever went over but may,\nafter his time is served, begin for himself, and may in time be sure of\nraising a good plantation.\nFor example, I will now take a man in the meanest circumstances of a\nservant, who has served out his five or seven years; suppose a\ntransported wretch for seven years. The custom of the place was\nthen\u2014what it is since I know not\u2014that on his master\u2019s certifying that\nhe had served his time out faithfully, he had fifty acres of land\nallotted him for planting, and on this plan he begins.\nSome had a horse, a cow, and three hogs given, or rather lent, them, as\na stock for the land, which they made an allowance for at a certain\ntime and rate.\nCustom has made it a trade to give credit to such beginners as these\nfor tools, clothes, nails, ironwork, and other things necessary for\ntheir planting, and which the persons so giving credit to them are to\nbe paid for out of the crop of tobacco which they shall plant. Nor is\nit in the debtor\u2019s power to defraud the creditor of payment in that\nmanner; and as tobacco is their coin as well as their product, so all\nthings are to be purchased at a certain quantity of tobacco, the price\nbeing so rated.\nThus the naked planter has credit at his beginning, and immediately\ngoes to work to cure the land and plant tobacco; and from this little\nbeginning have some of the most considerable planters in Virginia, and\nin Maryland also, raised themselves\u2014namely, from being without a hat or\na shoe to estates of \u00a340,000 or \u00a350,000; and in this method, I may add,\nno diligent man ever miscarried, if he had health to work and was a\ngood husband; for he every year increases a little, and every year\nadding more land and planting more tobacco, which is real money, he\nmust gradually increase in substance, till at length he gets enough to\nbuy negroes and other servants, and then never works himself any more.\nIn a word, every Newgate wretch, every desperate forlorn creature, the\nmost despicable ruined man in the world, has here a fair opportunity\nput into his hands to begin the world again, and that upon a foot of\ncertain gain and in a method exactly honest, with a reputation that\nnothing past will have any effect upon; and innumerable people have\nraised themselves from the worst circumstances in the world\u2014namely,\nfrom the cells in Newgate.\nBut I return to my own story. I was now a planter, and encouraged by a\nkind benefactor; for, that I might not be wholly taken up with my new\nplantation, he gave me freely, and without any consideration, my\ngrateful negro, Mouchat. He told me it was a debt due to the affection\nthat poor creature had always had for me; and so indeed it was, for as\nthe fellow would once have been hanged for me, so now, and to his last,\nhe loved me so much that it was apparent he did everything with\npleasure that he did for me; and he was so overcome of joy when he\nheard that he was to be my negro that the people in the plantation\nreally thought it would turn his head, and that the fellow would go\ndistracted.\nBesides this, he sent me two servants more, a man and a woman, but\nthese he put to my account, as above. Mouchat and these two fell\nimmediately to work for me, and they began with about two acres of land\nwhich had but little timber on it at first, and most of that was cut\ndown by the two carpenters who built my house, or shed rather, for so\nit should be called.\nThese two acres I got in good forwardness, and most of it well planted\nwith tobacco; though some of it we were obliged to plant with\ngarden-stuff for food, such as potatoes, carrots, cabbages, peas,\nbeans, &c.\nIt was a great advantage to me that I had so bountiful a master, who\nhelped me out in every case; for in this very first year I received a\nterrible blow. For my bill, as I have observed, having been copied and\nattested in form, and sent to London, my kind friend and custom-house\ngentleman paid me the money, and the merchant at London, by my good\nmaster\u2019s direction, had laid it all out in a sorted cargo of goods for\nme, such as would have made a man of me all at once; but, to my\ninexpressible terror and surprise, the ship was lost, and that just at\nthe entrance into the capes; that is to say, the mouth of the bay. Some\nof the goods were recovered, but spoiled; and, in short, nothing but\nthe nails, tools, and ironwork were good for anything; and though the\nvalue of them was pretty considerable in proportion to the rest, yet my\nloss was irreparably great, and indeed the greatness of the loss to me\nconsisted in its being irreparable.\nI was perfectly astonished at the first news of the loss, knowing that\nI was in debt to my patron, or master, so much that it must be several\nyears before I should recover it; and as he brought me the bad news\nhimself, he perceived my disorder; that is to say, he saw I was in the\nutmost confusion and a kind of amazement; and so indeed I was, because\nI was so much in debt. But he spoke cheerfully to me. \u201cCome,\u201d says he,\n\u201cdo not be so discouraged; you may make up this loss.\u201d \u201cNo, sir,\u201d says\nI; \u201cthat never can be, for it is my all, and I shall never be out of\ndebt.\u201d \u201cWell, but,\u201d says he, \u201cyou have no creditor, however, but me;\nand now I remember I once told you I would make a man of you, and I\nwill not disappoint you for this disaster.\u201d\nI thanked him, and did it with more ceremony and respect than ever,\nbecause I thought myself more under the hatches than I was before. But\nhe was as good as his word, for he did not baulk me in the least of\nanything I wanted; and as I had more ironwork saved out of the ship, in\nproportion, than I wanted, I supplied him with some part of it, and\ntook up some linen and clothes and other necessaries from him in\nexchange.\nAnd now I began to increase visibly. I had a large quantity of land\ncured\u2014that is, freed from timber\u2014and a very good crop of tobacco in\nview. And I got three servants more and one negro, so that I had five\nwhite servants and two negroes, and with this my affairs went very well\non.\nThe first year, indeed, I took my wages, or salary\u2014that is to say, \u00a330\na year\u2014because I wanted it very much; but the second and third year I\nresolved not to take it on any account whatsoever, but to leave it in\nmy benefactor\u2019s hands to clear off the debt I had contracted.\nAnd now I must impose a short digression on the reader, to note that\nnotwithstanding all the disadvantages of a most wretched education, yet\nnow, when I began to feel myself, as I may say, in the world, and to be\narrived to an independent state, and to foresee that I might be\nsomething considerable in time; I say, now I found different sentiments\nof things taking place in my mind. And, first, I had a solid principle\nof justice and honesty, and a secret horror at things past, when I\nlooked back upon my former life. That original something\u2014I knew not\nwhat\u2014that used formerly to check me in the first meannesses of my\nyouth, and used to dictate to me when I was but a child that I was to\nbe a gentleman, continued to operate upon me now in a manner I cannot\ndescribe; and I continually remembered the words of the ancient\nglassmaker to the gentleman that he reproved for swearing, that to be a\ngentleman was to be an honest man; that without honesty human nature\nwas sunk and degenerated; the gentleman lost all the dignity of his\nbirth, and placed himself even below an honest beggar. These\nprinciples, growing upon my mind in the present circumstances I was in,\ngave me a secret satisfaction that I can give no description of. It was\nan inexpressible joy to me that I was now like to be, not only a man,\nbut an honest man; and it yielded me a greater pleasure that I was\nransomed from being a vagabond, a thief, and a criminal, as I had been\nfrom a child, than that I was delivered from slavery and the wretched\nstate of a Virginia sold servant. I had notion enough in my mind of the\nhardships of the servant, or slave, because I had felt it and worked\nthrough it; I remembered it as a state of labour and servitude,\nhardship and suffering. But the other shocked my very nature, chilled\nmy blood, and turned the very soul within me; the thought of it was\nlike reflections upon hell and the damned spirits; it struck me with\nhorror, it was odious and frightful to look back on, and it gave me a\nkind of a fit, a convulsion or nervous disorder, that was very uneasy\nto me.\nBut to look forward, to reflect how things were changed, how happy I\nwas that I could live by my own endeavours, and was no more under the\nnecessity of being a villain, and of getting my bread at my own hazard\nand the ruin of honest families\u2014this had in it something more than\ncommonly pleasing and agreeable, and, in particular, it had a pleasure\nthat till then I had known nothing of. It was a sad thing to be under a\nnecessity of doing evil to procure that subsistence which I could not\nsupport the want of, to be obliged to run the venture of the gallows\nrather than the venture of starving, and to be always wicked for fear\nof want.\nI cannot say that I had any serious religious reflections, or that\nthese things proceeded yet from the uneasiness of conscience, but from\nmere reasonings with myself, and from being arrived to a capacity of\nmaking a right judgment of things more than before. Yet I own I had\nsuch an abhorrence of the wicked life I had led that I was secretly\neasy, and had a kind of pleasure in the disaster that was upon me about\nthe ship, and that, though it was a loss, I could not but be glad that\nthose ill-gotten goods was gone, and that I had lost what I had stolen.\nFor I looked on it as none of mine, and that it would be fire in my\nflax if I should mingle it with what I had now, which was come honestly\nby, and was, as it were, sent from heaven to lay the foundation of my\nprosperity, which the other would be only as a moth to consume.\nAt the same time my thoughts dictated to me, that though this was the\nfoundation of my new life, yet that this was not the superstructure,\nand that I might still be born for greater things than these; that it\nwas honesty and virtue alone that made men rich and great, and gave\nthem a fame as well as a figure in the world, and that therefore I was\nto lay my foundation in these, and expect what might follow in time.\nTo help these thoughts, as I had learned to read and write when I was\nin Scotland, so I began now to love books, and particularly I had an\nopportunity of reading some very considerable ones, such as Livy\u2019s\nRoman History, the history of the Turks, the English History of Speed,\nand others; the history of the Low Country wars, the history of\nGustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden, and the history of the Spaniards\u2019\nconquest of Mexico, with several others, some of which I bought at a\nplanter\u2019s house who was lately dead and his goods sold, and others I\nhad borrowed.\nI considered my present state of life to be my mere youth, though I was\nnow above thirty years old, because in my youth I had learned nothing;\nand if my daily business, which was now great, would have permitted, I\nwould have been content to have gone to school. However, fate, that had\nyet something else in store for me, threw an opportunity into my hand;\nnamely, a clever fellow that came over a transported felon from\nBristol, and fell into my hands for a servant. He had led a loose life;\nthat he acknowledged; and being driven to extremities, took to the\nhighway, for which, had he been taken, he would have been hanged. But\nfalling into some low-prized rogueries afterwards, for want of\nopportunity for worse, was catched, condemned, and transported, and, as\nhe said, was glad he came off so.\nHe was an excellent scholar, and I, perceiving it, asked him one time\nif he could give a method how I might learn the Latin tongue. He said,\nsmiling, Yes; he could teach it me in three months, if I would let him\nhave books, or even without books, if he had time. I told him a book\nwould become his hands better than a hoe; and if he could promise to\nmake me but understand Latin enough to read it, and understand other\nlanguages by it, I would ease him of the labour which I was now obliged\nto put him to, especially if I was assured that he was fit to receive\nthat favour of a kind master. In short, I made him to me what my\nbenefactor made me to him, and from him I gained a fund of knowledge\ninfinitely more valuable than the rate of a slave, which was what I had\npaid for it; but of this hereafter.\nWith these thoughts I went cheerfully about my work. As I had now five\nservants, my plantation went on, though gently, yet safely, and\nincreased gradually, though slowly. But the third year, with the\nassistance of my old benefactor, I purchased two negroes more, so that\nnow I had seven servants; and having cured land sufficient for supply\nof their food, I was at no difficulty to maintain them; so that my\nplantation began now to enlarge itself, and as I lived without any\npersonal expense, but was maintained at my old great master\u2019s, as we\ncalled him, and at his charge, with \u00a330 a year besides, so all my gains\nwas laid up for increase.\nIn this posture I went on for twelve years, and was very successful in\nmy plantation, and had gotten, by means of my master\u2019s favour, who now\nI called my friend, a correspondent in London, with whom I traded,\nshipped over my tobacco to him, and received European goods in return,\nsuch as I wanted to carry on my plantation, and sufficient to sell to\nothers also.\nIn this interval my good friend and benefactor died, and I was left\nvery disconsolate on account of my loss; for it was indeed a great loss\nto me. He had been a father to me, and I was like a forsaken stranger\nwithout him, though I knew the country, and the trade too, well enough,\nand had for some time chiefly carried on his whole business for him.\nYet I seemed now at a loss; my counsellor and my chief supporter was\ngone, and I had no confidant to communicate myself to, on all\noccasions, as formerly; but there was no remedy. I was, however, in a\nbetter condition to stand alone than ever. I had a very large\nplantation, and had near seventy negroes and other servants. In a word,\nI was grown really rich, considering my first circumstances, that began\nas I may say with nothing; that is to say, I had nothing of stock, but\nI had a great beginning, for I had such a man\u2019s friendship and support\nin my beginning, that indeed I needed no other stock; and if I had had\n\u00a3500 to have begun with, and not the assistance, advice, and\ncountenance of such a man, I had not been in a better condition. But he\npromised to make a man of me; and so he did, and in one respect I may\nsay I have merited it of him, for I brought his plantation into such\norder, and the government of his negroes into such a regulation, that\nif he had given \u00a3500 to have had it done, he would have thought his\nmoney well bestowed. His work was always in order, going forward to his\nmind; every thing was in a thriving posture; his servants all loved\nhim, even negroes and all, and yet there was no such thing as a cruel\npunishment or severities known among them.\nIn my own plantation it was the same thing. I wrought so upon the\nreason and the affections of my negroes that they served me cheerfully,\nand, by consequence, faithfully and diligently; when in my neighbour\u2019s\nplantation there was not a week hardly passed without such horrible\noutcries, roarings and yellings of the servants, either under torture\nor in fear of it, that their negroes would, in discourse with ours,\nwish themselves dead and gone, as it seems they believed they should\nafter death, into their own country.\nIf I met with a sullen, stupid fellow, as sometimes it was unavoidable,\nI always parted with him and sold him off; for I would not keep any\nthat sense of kind usage would not oblige. But I seldom met with such\nbad ones; for, by talking to them in a plain reasoning way, I found the\ntemper of the roughest of them would break and soften. The sense of\ntheir own interest would prevail with them at first or last; and if it\nhad not, the contrary temper was so general among my people that their\nown fellows and countrymen would be against them, and that served to\nbring them to reason as soon as any other thing. And this those who\nthink it worth their while will easily find, viz., that having\nprevailed effectually over one leading man among them to be tractable,\nand pleased, and grateful, he shall make them all like him, and that in\na little while, with more ease than can be imagined.\nI was now a planter, and also a student. My pedagogue I mentioned above\nwas very diligent, and proved an extraordinary man indeed. He taught me\nnot only with application, but with admirable judgment in the teaching\npart; for I have seen it in many instances since that time that every\ngood scholar is not fitted for a schoolmaster, and that the art of\nteaching is quite different from that of knowing the language taught.\nBut this man had both, and proved of great use to me, and I found\nreason, in the worth of the person, to be very kind to him, his\ncircumstances considered. I once took the liberty to ask him how it\ncame to pass that he, who must have had a liberal education and great\nadvantages to have advanced him in the world, should be capable of\nfalling into such miserable circumstances as he was in when he came\nover. I used some caution in entering upon an inquiry which, as I said,\nmight not be pleasant to him to relate, but that I would make him\namends by telling him, that if he desired not to enter into it with me,\nI would readily excuse him, and would not take it ill at all. This I\ndid because to a man under such afflictions one should always be\ntender, and not put them upon relating anything of themselves which was\ngrievous to them or which they had rather was concealed.\nBut he told me that it was true, that to look back upon his past life\nwas indeed _renovare dolorem_; but that such mortifications were now\nuseful to him, to help forward that repentance which he hoped he was\nsincerely entered upon; and that though it was with horror he looked\nback upon misspent time and ill-applied gifts which a bountiful Creator\nhad blessed him with, and spared to him for a better improvement, yet\nhe thought he ought to load himself with as much of the shame as it\npleased God to make his lot, since he had already loaded himself with\nthe guilt in a shameless manner, till God, he still hoped in mercy to\nhim, had cut him short and brought him to public disgrace; though he\ncould not say he had been brought to justice, for then he had been sent\ninto eternity in despair, and not been sent to Virginia to repent of\nthe wickedest life that ever man lived. He would have gone on, but I\nfound his speech interrupted by a passionate struggle within, between\nhis grief and his tears.\nI took no more notice of it than to tell him that I was sorry I had\nasked him about it, but that it was my curiosity. When I saw that\nignorant, untaught, untractable creatures come into misery and shame, I\nmade no inquiry after their affairs; but when I saw men of parts and\nlearning take such steps, I concluded it must be occasioned by\nsomething exceeding wicked. \u201cSo, indeed,\u201d said he, \u201cthe judge said to\nme when I begged mercy of him in Latin. He told me that when a man with\nsuch learning falls into such crimes he is more inexcusable than other\nmen, because, his learning recommending him, he could not want\nadvantages and had the less temptation to crimes.\u201d\n\u201cBut, sir,\u201d said he, \u201cI believe my case was what I find is the case of\nmost of the wicked part of the world, viz., that to be reduced to\nnecessity is to be wicked; for necessity is not only the temptation,\nbut is such a temptation as human nature is not empowered to resist.\nHow good, then,\u201d says he, \u201cis that God which takes from you, sir, the\ntemptation, by taking away the necessity!\u201d\nI was so sensible of the truth of what he said, knowing it by my own\ncase, that I could not enter any further upon the discourse; but he\nwent on voluntarily. \u201cThis, sir,\u201d says he, \u201cI am so sensible of that I\nthink the case I am reduced to much less miserable than the life which\nI lived before, because I am delivered from the horrid necessity of\ndoing such ill things which was my ruin and disaster then, even for my\nbread, and am not now obliged to ravish my bread out of the mouths of\nothers by violence and disorder, but am fed, though I am made to earn\nit by the hard labour of my hands, and I thank God for the difference.\u201d\nHe paused here, but went on thus:\u2014\n\u201cHow much is the life of a slave in Virginia to be preferred to that of\nthe most prosperous thief in the world! Here I live miserable, but\nhonest; suffer wrong, but do no wrong; my body is punished, but my\nconscience is not loaded; and as I used to say that I had no leisure to\nlook in, but I would begin when I had some recess, some time to spare,\nnow God has found me leisure to repent.\u201d He run on in this manner a\ngreat while, giving thanks, I believe most heartily, for his being\ndelivered from the wretched life he had lived, though his misery were\nto be tenfold as much as it was.\nI was sincerely touched with his discourse on this subject. I had known\nso much of the real difference of the case that I could not but be\naffected with it, though till now, I confess, I knew little of the\nreligious part. I had been an offender as well as he, though not\naltogether in the same degree, but I knew nothing of the penitence;\nneither had I looked back upon anything as a crime, but as a life\ndishonourable and not like a gentleman, which run much in my thoughts,\nas I have several times mentioned.\n\u201cWell, but now,\u201d says I, \u201cyou talk penitently, and I hope you are\nsincere; but what would be your case if you were delivered from the\nmiserable condition of a slave sold for money, which you are now in?\nShould you not, think you, be the same man?\u201d\n\u201cBlessed be God,\u201d says he, \u201cthat, if I thought I should, I would\nsincerely pray that I might not be delivered, and that I might for ever\nbe a slave rather than a sinner.\u201d\n\u201cWell, but,\u201d says I, \u201csuppose you to be under the same necessity, in\nthe same starving condition, should you not take the same course?\u201d\nHe replied very sharply, \u201cThat shows us the need we have of the\npetition in the Lord\u2019s prayer, \u2018Lead us not into temptation;\u2019 and of\nSolomon\u2019s or Agar\u2019s prayer, \u2018Give me not poverty, lest I steal.\u2019 I\nshould ever beg of God not to be left to such snares as human nature\ncannot resist. But I have some hope, that I should venture to starve\nrather than to steal; but I also beg to be delivered from the danger,\nbecause I know not my own strength.\u201d\nThis was honestly spoken, indeed; and there really were such visible\ntokens of sincerity in all his discourse that I could not suspect him.\nOn some of our discourses on this subject, he pulled out a little dirty\npaper-book, in which he had wrote down such a prayer in verse as I\ndoubt few Christians in the world could subscribe to; and I cannot but\nrecord it, because I never saw anything like it in my life. The lines\nare as follow:\u2014\n\u201cLord! whatsoever sorrows rack my breast,\nTill crime removes too, let me find no rest;\nHow dark soe\u2019er my state or sharp my pain,\nOh! let not troubles cease and sin remain.\nFor Jesus\u2019 sake remove not my distress,\nTill free triumphant grace shall repossess\nThe vacant throne from whence my sins depart,\nAnd make a willing captive of my heart;\nTill grace completely shall my soul subdue,\nThy conquest full and my subjection true.\u201d\nThere were more lines on the same subject, but these were the\nbeginning; and these touching me so sensibly, I have remembered them\ndistinctly ever since, and have, I believe, repeated them to myself a\nthousand times.\nI pressed him no more, you may be sure, after an answer so very\nparticular and affecting as this was. It was easy to see the man was a\nsincere penitent, not sorrowing for the punishment he was suffering\nunder; for his condition was no part of his affliction; he was rather\nthankful for it, as above; but his concern was a feeling and affecting\nsense of the wicked and abominable life he had led, the abhorred crimes\nhe had committed both against God and man, and the little sense he had\nhad of the condition he was in, and that even till he came to the place\nwhere he now was.\nI asked him if he had no reflections of this kind after or before his\nsentence. He told me Newgate (for the prison at Bristol is called so,\nit seems, as well as that at London) was a place that seldom made\npenitents, but often made villains worse, till they learnt to defy God\nand devil; but that, however, he could look back with this\nsatisfaction, that he could say he was not altogether insensible of it\neven then; but nothing that amounted to a thorough serious looking up\nto heaven; that he often indeed looked in, and reflected upon his past\nmisspent life, even before he was in prison, when the intervals of his\nwicked practices gave some time for reflection, and he would sometimes\nsay to himself, \u201cWhither am I going? to what will all these things\nbring me at last? and where will they end? Sin and shame follow one\nanother, and I shall certainly come to the gallows. Then,\u201d said he, \u201cI\nwould strike upon my breast, and say, \u2018O wicked wretch! when will you\nrepent?\u2019 and would answer myself as often, \u2018Never! never! never! except\nit be in a gaol or at a gibbet.\u2019\n\u201cThen,\u201d said he, \u201cI would weep and sigh, and look back a little upon my\nwretched life, the history of which would make the world amazed; but,\nalas! the prospect was so dark, and it filled me with so much terror,\nthat I could not bear it. Then I would fly to wine and company for\nrelief; that wine brought on excess, and that company, being always\nwicked company like yourself, brought on temptation, and then all\nreflection vanished and I was the same devil as before.\u201d\nHe spoke this with so much affection that his face was ever smiling\nwhen he talked of it, and yet his eyes had tears standing in them at\nthe same time, and all the time; for he had a delightful sorrow, if\nthat be a proper expression, in speaking of it.\nThis was a strange relation to me, and began to affect me after a\nmanner that I did not understand. I loved to hear him talk of it, and\nyet it always left a kind of a dead lump behind it upon my heart, which\nI could give no reason for, nor imagine to what it should tend; I had a\nheaviness on my soul, without being able to describe it or to say what\nailed me.\nWell, he went on with his relation. \u201cAfter this,\u201d says he, \u201cI fell into\nthe hands of a justice for a trifle, a piece of sport in our crime; and\nI, that for a hundred robberies, as well on the highway as otherwise,\nthe particulars of which would fill a book to give an account of,\nought, whenever I was taken, to be hanged in chains, and who, if it had\nbeen public, could not have failed of having twenty people come in\nagainst me, was privately hurried into a country gaol under a wrong\nname; tried for a small fact, within benefit of clergy, and in which I\nwas not principally guilty, and by this means obtained the favour of\nbeing transported.\n\u201cAnd what think you,\u201d said he, \u201chas most sensibly affected me, and\nbrought on the blessed change that, I hope I may say, God has wrought\nin my soul? Not the greatness of my crimes, but the wonders of that\nmerciful Providence, which, when it has mercy in store for a man, often\nbrings him into the briers, into sorrow and misery for lesser sins,\nthat men may be led to see how they are spared from the punishment due\nto them for the greater guilt which they know lies upon them. Do you\nthink that when I received the grant of transportation I could be\ninsensible what a miracle of divine goodness such a thing must be to\none who had so many ways deserved to be hanged, and must infallibly\nhave died if my true name had been known, or if the least notice had\nbeen given that it was such a notorious wretch as I that was in\ncustody? There began the first motive of repentance; for certainly the\ngoodness of our great Creator in sparing us, when we forfeit our lives\nto His justice, and His merciful bringing us out of the miseries which\nwe plunge ourselves into, when we have no way to extricate ourselves;\nHis bringing those very miseries to be the means of our deliverance,\nand working good to us out of evil, when we are working the very evil\nout of His good; I say, these things are certainly the strongest\nmotives to repentance that are in the world, and the sparing thieves\nfrom the gallows certainly makes more penitents than the gallows\nitself.\n\u201cIt is true,\u201d continued he, \u201cthat the terror of punishment works\nstrongly upon the mind; in view of death men are filled with horror of\nsoul, and immediately they call that repentance which I doubt is too\noften mistaken, being only a kind of anguish in the soul, which breeds\na grief for the punishment that is to be suffered\u2014an amazement founded\nupon the dreadful view of what is to follow. But the sense of mercy is\nquite another thing; this seizes all the passions and all the\naffections, and works a sincere, unfeigned abhorrence of the crime, as\na crime, as an offence against our Benefactor, as an act of baseness\nand ingratitude to Him who has given us life and all the blessings and\ncomforts of life, and who has conquered us by continuing to do us good,\nwhen He has been provoked to destroy us.\n\u201cThis, sir,\u201d says he, \u201chas been the fountain of that repentance which I\nso much rejoice in; this is the delightful sorrow,\u201d says he, \u201cthat I\nspoke of just now; and this makes smiles sit on my face while tears run\nfrom my eyes, a joy that I can no otherwise express than by telling\nyou, sir, that I never lived a happy day since I came to an age of\nacting in the world till I landed in this country, and worked in your\nplantation, naked and hungry, weary and faint, oppressed with cold in\none season, and heat in the other. Then I began to see into my own\nways, and see the difference between the hardships of the body and the\ntorment of the mind. Before I revelled in fulness, and here I struggled\nwith hard fare; then I wallowed in sloth and voluptuous ease; here I\nlaboured till nature sometimes was just sinking under the load; but\nwith this difference in the felicity of either case, namely, that there\nI had a hell in my soul, was filled with horror and confusion, was a\ndaily terror to myself, and always expected a miserable end; whereas\nhere I had a blessed calm of soul, an emblem and forerunner of heaven,\nthankful and humble, adoring that mercy that had snatched me out of the\njaws of the devil. These took up my thoughts, and made my most weary\nhours pleasant to me, my labour light, and my heart cheerful. I never\nlay down on my hard lodging but I praised God with the greatest excess\nof affection, not only that it was not the condemned hole, and that I\nwas delivered from the death I had deserved, but that it was not\nShooter\u2019s Hill; that I was not still a robber, a terror to just and\nhonest men, a plunderer of the innocent and the poor, a thief, and a\nvillain, that ought to be rooted out from the earth for the safety of\nothers; but that I was delivered from the horrid temptation of sinning\nto support my luxury, and making one vice necessary to another; and\nthis, I bear witness, is sufficient to sweeten the bitterest sorrow,\nand make any man be thankful for Virginia, or a worse place, if that\ncan be.\u201d\nHe then entertained me with an opinion of his, that if it were possible\nfor the face of heaven and hell to be disclosed and laid open, and that\nmen could be made capable of seeing distinctly and separately the joys\nand glory and utmost felicity of one, and the horrors of the other, and\nto make a judgment of both according to the power of human reasoning,\nthe first would have a stronger and more powerful effect to reform the\nworld than the latter; but this we had further discourses about on many\noccasions.\nIf it should be inquired how I was capable of hearing all this, and\nhaving no impressions made upon my mind by it, especially when it so\nmany ways suited my own case, and the condition of the former part of\nmy life, I shall answer that presently by myself. However, I took no\nnotice of it to him, for he had quite other notions of me than I had of\nmyself; nor did I, as is usual in such cases, enter into any confidence\nwith him on my own story, only that I took sometimes the occasion to\nlet him know that I did not come over to Virginia in the capacity of a\ncriminal, or that I was not transported; which, considering how many of\nthe inhabitants there were so who then lived in good circumstances, was\nneedful enough to be done.\nBut as to myself, it was enough that I was in condition now; \u2019twas no\nmatter to anybody what I had been; and as it was grown pretty much out\nof memory from what original disaster I came into the country, or that\nI was ever a servant otherwise than voluntary, and that it was no\nbusiness of mine to expose myself, so I kept that part close. But for\nall that, it was impossible for me to conceal the disorder I was in as\noften as he talked of these things. I had hitherto gone on upon a\nnotion of things founded only in their appearance, as they affected me\nwith good or evil, esteeming the happy and unhappy part of life to be\nthose that gave me ease or sorrow, without regarding, or indeed much\nunderstanding, how far those turns of life were influenced by the Giver\nof Life, or how far they were all directed by a sovereign God that\ngoverns the world, and all the creatures he had made.\nAs I had no education but as you have heard, so I had had no\ninstruction, no knowledge of religion, or indeed of the meaning of it;\nand though I was now in a kind of search after religion, it was a mere\nlooking, as it were, into the world to see what kind of a thing or\nplace it was, and what had been done in it. But as to Him that made it,\nthere had truly been scarce a creature among all that He had made, with\nsouls in them, that were so entirely without the knowledge of God as I\nwas, and made so little inquiry about it.\nBut the serious, affectionate discourse of this young man began to have\ndifferent effects upon me, and I began to say to myself, \u201cThis man\u2019s\nreflections are certainly very just; but what a creature am I, and what\nhave I been doing!\u2014I that never once did this in all my life; that\nnever said so much\u2014\u2019God, I thank Thee for all that I have been saved\nfrom, or all that I have been brought to in this world;\u2019 and yet my\nlife has been as full of variety, and I have been as miraculously\ndelivered from dangers and mischiefs, and as many of them, as ever he\nhas. And if it has all been brought to pass by an invisible hand in\nmercy to me, what have I been doing, and where have I lived, that I\nonly should be the most thoughtless and unthankful of all God\u2019s\ncreatures?\u201d\nThis, indeed, began to grow upon me, and made me very melancholy; but\nas to religion, I understood so little about it that if I had resolved\nupon any such thing as a new course of life, or to set about a\nreligious change, I knew not at which end to begin or what to do about\nit.\nOne day it happened that my tutor\u2014for so I always called him\u2014had the\nBible in his hand, and was looking in it, as he generally did many\ntimes every day, though I knew not for what. Seeing the Bible, I took\nit out of his hands, and went to look in it, which I had done so little\nbefore that I think I might safely say I had never read a chapter in it\nin all my life. He was talking of the Bible then as a book only, and\nwhere he had it, and how he brought it to Virginia, and in some ecstasy\nhe took and kissed it. \u201cThis blessed book!\u201d says he; \u201cthis was all the\ntreasure I brought out from England with me. And a comfortable treasure\nit has been to me,\u201d added he; \u201cI would not have been without it in my\nsorrows for any other treasure in the world;\u201d and so he went on at\nlarge.\nI, that had no notion of what he meant\u2014only, as I have said above, some\nyoung infant thoughts about the works of Providence in the world and\nits merciful dealings with me\u2014took the book out of his hand and went to\nlook in it; and the book opened at the Acts xxvi. 28, where Felix says\nto St. Paul, \u201cAlmost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.\u201d \u201cI think,\u201d\nsays I, \u201chere\u2019s a line hits me to a tittle, upon the long account you\nhave given of yourself, and I must say them to you, as the governor\nhere said;\u201d and so I read the words to him. He blushed at the text, and\nreturns, \u201cI wish I could answer you in the very words the Apostle\nreturned to him in the next verse: \u2018I would thou wert both almost, and\naltogether such as I am, except these bonds.\u2019\u201d\nI was now more than thirty years old by my own account, and as well as\nit was possible for me to keep a reckoning of my age, who had nobody\nleft that ever knew my beginning; I was, I say, above thirty years old,\nand had gone through some variety in the world. But as I was perfectly\nabandoned in my infancy, and utterly without instruction in my youth,\nso I was entirely ignorant of everything that was worthy the name of\nreligion in the world; and this was the first time that ever any notion\nof religious things entered into my heart. I was surprised at this\nman\u2019s talk, and that several ways particularly he talked so feelingly\nof his past circumstances, and they were so like my own, that every\ntime he made a religious inference from his own condition, and argued\nfrom one condition of his to another, it struck into my thoughts like a\nbullet from a gun that I had certainly as much to be thankful for and\nto repent of as he had, except only that I had no knowledge of better\nthings to be thankful for, which he had. But in return for that, I was\ndelivered and set up in the world, made a master, and easy, and was in\ngood circumstances, being raised from the very same low, distressed\ncondition as he was in\u2014I mean a sold servant\u2014but that he remained so\nstill; so that, if his sin had been greater than mine, so his distress\nwas still greater.\nThis article of gratitude struck deep and lay heavy upon my mind. I\nremembered that I was grateful to the last degree to my old master, who\nhad raised me from my low condition, and that I loved the very name of\nhim, or, as might be said, the very ground he trod on; but I had not so\nmuch as once thought of any higher obligation; no, nor so much as, like\nthe Pharisee, had said once, \u201cGod, I thank thee,\u201d to Him, for all the\ninfluence which His providence must have had in my whole affair.\nIt occurred to me presently that if none of all these things befall us\nwithout the direction of a Divine Power, as my new instructor had told\nme at large, and that God had ordered everything, the most minute and\nleast transaction of life, insomuch that not a hair of our head shall\nfall to the ground without His permission; I say, it occurred to me\nthat I had been a most unthankful dog to that Providence that had done\nso much for me; and the consequence of the reflection was immediately\nthis: how justly may that Power, so disobliged, take away again His\nwool and His flax, with which I am now clothed, and reduce me to the\nmisery of my first circumstances.\nThis perplexed me much, and I was very pensive and sad; in which,\nhowever, my new instructor was a constant comforter to me, and I\nlearned every day something or other from him; upon which I told him\none morning that I thought be must leave off teaching me Latin, and\nteach me religion. He spoke with a great deal of modesty of his being\nincapable of informing me of anything that I did not know, and proposed\nto me to read the Scriptures every day, as the sure and only fund of\ninstruction. I answered that, in the words of the eunuch to St. Philip\nwhen the apostle asked him if he understood what he read: \u201cHow can I,\nunless some one guide me?\u201d\nWe talked frequently upon this subject, and I found so much reason to\nbelieve he was a sincere convert that I can speak of him as no other in\nall I have to say of him. However, I cannot say my thoughts were yet\nripened for an operation of that kind. I had some uneasiness about my\npast life, and I lived now, and had done so before I knew him, a very\nregular, sober life, always taken up in my business and running into no\nexcesses. But as to commencing penitent, as this man had done, I cannot\nsay I had any convictions upon me sufficient to bring it on, nor had I\na fund of religious knowledge to support me in it. So it wore off again\ngradually, as such things generally do where the first impressions are\nnot deep enough.\nIn the meantime, as he read over long lectures of his own disasters to\nme, and applied them all seriously to me, so our discourse was always\nvery solid and weighty, and we had nothing of levity between us, even\nwhen we were not concerned in religious discourses. He read history to\nme; and, where books were wanting, he gave me ideas of those things\nwhich had not been recorded by our modern histories, or at least that\nour number of books would not reach. By these things he raised an\nunquenchable thirst in me, after seeing something that was doing in the\nworld; and the more because all the world was at that time engaged,\nmore or less, in the great war wherein the French king might be said to\nbe engaged with and against all the powers of Europe.\nNow, I looked upon myself as one buried alive in a remote part of the\nworld, where I could see nothing at all, and hear but a little of what\nwas seen, and that little not till at least half a year after it was\ndone, and sometimes a year or more; and, in a word, the old reproach\noften came in the way\u2014namely, that even this was not yet the life of a\ngentleman.\nIt was true that this was much nearer to it than that of a pickpocket,\nand still nearer than that of a sold slave; but, in short, this would\nnot do, and I could receive no satisfaction in it. I had now a second\nplantation, a very considerable one, and it went forward very well. I\nhad on it almost a hundred servants already of sundry sorts, and an\noverseer that I had a great deal of reason to say I might depend upon,\nand but that I had a third in embryo, and newly begun, I had nothing to\nhinder me from going where I pleased.\nHowever, I now began to frame my thoughts for a voyage to England,\nresolving then to act as I should see cause, but with a secret\nresolution to see more of the world if possible, and realise those\nthings to my mind which I had hitherto only entertained remote ideas of\nby the help of books.\nAccordingly I pushed forward the settlement of my third plantation, in\norder to bring it to be in a posture either to be let to a tenant or\nleft in trust with an overseer, as I should find occasion.\nHad I resolved to leave it to an overseer or steward, no man in the\nworld could have been fit for it like my tutor; but I could not think\nof parting with him, who was the cause of my desire of travelling, and\nwho I concluded to make my partner in my travels.\nEND OF VOL. I.\nTHE LIFE OF COLONEL JACQUE.\nIt was three years after this before I could get things in order, fit\nfor my leaving the country. In this time I delivered my tutor from his\nbondage, and would have given him his liberty, but, to my great\ndisappointment, I found that I could not empower him to go for England\ntill his time was expired, according to the certificate of his\ntransportation, which was registered; so I made him one of my\noverseers, and thereby raised him gradually to a prospect of living in\nthe same manner and by the like steps that my good benefactor raised\nme, only that I did not assist him to enter upon planting for himself\nas I was assisted, neither was I upon the spot to do it. But this man\u2019s\ndiligence and honest application, even unassisted, delivered himself,\n[though not] any farther than, as I say, by making him an overseer,\nwhich was only a present ease and deliverance to him from the hard\nlabour and fare which he endured as a servant.\nHowever, in this trust he behaved so faithfully and so diligently that\nit recommended him in the country; and when I came back I found him in\ncircumstances very different from what I left him in, besides his being\nmy principal manager for near twenty years, as you shall hear in its\nplace.\nI mention these things the more at large that, if any unhappy wretch\nwho may have the disaster to fall into such circumstances as these may\ncome to see this account, they may learn the following short lessons\nfrom these examples:\u2014\nI. That Virginia and a state of transportation may be the happiest\nplace and condition they were ever in for this life, as, by a sincere\nrepentance and a diligent application to the business they are put to,\nthey are effectually delivered from a life of flagrant wickedness and\nput in a perfect new condition, in which they have no temptation to the\ncrimes they formerly committed, and have a prospect of advantage for\nthe future.\nII. That in Virginia the meanest and most despicable creature, after\nhis time of servitude is expired, if he will but apply himself with\ndiligence and industry to the business of the country, is sure (life\nand health supposed) both of living well and growing rich.\nAs this is a foundation which the most unfortunate wretch alive is\nentitled to, a transported felon is, in my opinion, a much happier man\nthan the most prosperous untaken thief in the nation. Nor are those\npoor young people so much in the wrong as some imagine them to be that\ngo voluntarily over to those countries, and in order to get themselves\ncarried over and placed there, freely bind themselves there, especially\nif the persons into whose hands they fall do anything honestly by them;\nfor, as it is to be supposed that those poor people knew not what\ncourse to take before, or had miscarried in their conduct before, here\nthey are sure to be immediately provided for, and, after the expiration\nof their time, to be put in a condition to provide for themselves. But\nI return to my own story, which now begins a new scene.\nI was now making provision for my going to England. After having\nsettled my plantation in such hands as was fully to my satisfaction, my\nfirst work was to furnish myself with such a stock of goods and money\nas might be sufficient for my occasions abroad, and particularly might\nallow me to make large returns to Maryland, for the use and supply of\nall my plantations. But when I came to look nearer into the voyage, it\noccurred to me that it would not be prudent to put my cargo all on\nboard the same ship that I went in; so I shipped at several times five\nhundred hogsheads of tobacco in several ships for England, giving\nnotice to my correspondent in London that I would embark about such a\ntime to come over myself, and ordering him to insure for a considerable\nsum, proportioned to the value of my cargo.\nAbout two months after this I left the place, and embarked for England\nin a stout ship, carrying twenty-four guns and about six hundred\nhogsheads of tobacco, and we left the capes of Virginia on the 1st of\nAugust. We had a very sour and rough voyage for the first fortnight,\nthough it was in a season so generally noted for good weather.\nAfter we had been about eleven days at sea, having the wind most part\nof the time blowing very hard at west, or between the west and\nnorth-west, by which we were carried a great way farther to the\neastward than they usually go in their course for England, we met with\na furious tempest, which held us five days, blowing most of the time\nexcessive hard, and by which we were obliged to run away afore the\nwind, as the seamen call it, wheresoever it was our lot to go. By this\nstorm our ship was greatly damaged, and some leaks we had, but not so\nbad that by the diligence of the seamen they were stopped. However, the\ncaptain, after having beaten up again as well as he could against the\nweather, and the sea going very high, at length he resolved to go away\nfor the Bermudas.\nI was not seaman enough to understand what the reason of their disputes\nwas, but in their running for the islands it seems they overshot the\nlatitude, and could never reach the islands of Bermudas again. The\nmaster and the mate differed to an extremity about this, their\nreckonings being more than usually wide of one another, the storm\nhaving driven them a little out of their knowledge. The master, being a\npositive man, insulted the mate about it, and threatened to expose him\nfor it when he came to England. The mate was an excellent sea artist\nand an experienced sailor, but withal a modest man, and though he\ninsisted upon his being right, did it in respectful terms and as it\nbecame him. But after several days\u2019 dispute, when the weather came to\nabate and the heavens to clear up, that they could take their\nobservations and know where they were, it appeared that the mate\u2019s\naccount was right, and the captain was mistaken; for they were then in\nthe latitude of 29 degrees, and quite out of the wake of the Bermudas.\nThe mate made no indecent use of the discovery at all, and the captain,\nbeing convinced, carried it civilly to him, and so the heats were over\namong them; but the next question was, what they should do next. Some\nwere for going one way, some another; but all agreed that they were not\nin a condition to go on the direct course for England, unless they\ncould have a southerly or south-west wind, which had not been our fate\nsince we came to sea.\nUpon the whole, they resolved by consent to steer away to the Canaries,\nwhich was the nearest land they could make except the Cape de Verde\nIslands, which were too much to the southward for us, if it could be\navoided.\nUpon this they stood away N.E., and the wind hanging still westerly, or\nto the northward of the west, we made good way, and in about fifteen\ndays\u2019 sail we made the Pico Teneriffe, being a monstrous hill in one of\nthe Canary Islands. Here we refreshed ourselves, got fresh water and\nsome fresh provisions, and plenty of excellent wine, but no harbour to\nrun into, to take care of the ship, which was leaky and tender, having\nhad so much very bad weather; so we were obliged to do as well as we\ncould, and put to sea again, after riding at the Canaries four days\nonly.\nFrom the Canaries we had tolerable weather and a smooth sea till we\ncame into the soundings\u2014so they call the mouth of the British\nChannel\u2014and the wind blowing hard at the N. and the N.W. obliged us to\nkeep a larger offing, as the seamen call it, at our entrance into the\nChannel; when, behold! in the grey of the morning a French cruiser or\nprivateer of twenty-six guns appeared, and crowded after us with all\nthe sail they could make. In short, our captain exchanged a broadside\nor two with them, which was terrible work to me, for I had never seen\nsuch before, the Frenchman\u2019s guns having raked us, and killed and\nwounded six of our best men.\nIn short, after a fight long enough to show us that if we would not be\ntaken we must resolve to sink by her side, for there was no room to\nexpect deliverance, and a fight long enough to save the master\u2019s\ncredit, we were taken, and the ship carried away to St. Malo.\nI was not much concerned for the loss I had in the ship, because I knew\nI had sufficient in the world somewhere or other; but as I was\neffectually stripped of everything I had about me, and even almost my\nclothes from my back, I was in but a very indifferent condition. But\nsomebody informing the captain of the privateer, that I was a passenger\nand a merchant, he called for me and inquired into my circumstances,\nand coming to hear from myself how I had been used, obliged the seamen\nto give me a coat and hat and a pair of shoes, which they had taken off\nme, and himself gave me a morning gown of his own to wear while I was\nin his ship, and, to give him his due, treated me very well.\nI had, however, besides my being taken, the mortification to be\ndetained on board the cruiser, and seeing the ship I was in manned with\nFrenchmen and sent away, as above, for St. Malo; and this was a greater\nmortification to me afterwards, when, being brought into St. Malo, I\nheard that our own ship was retaken in her passage to St. Malo by an\nEnglish man-of-war and carried to Portsmouth.\nWhen our ship was sent away the _Rover_ cruised abroad again in the\nmouth of the Channel for some time, but met with no purchase. At last\nthey made a sail, which proved to be one of their nation and one of\ntheir own trade, from whom they learned, the news having been carried\nto England that some French privateers lay off and on in the soundings,\nthat three English men-of-war were come out from Plymouth on purpose to\ncruise in the Channel, and that they would certainly meet with us. Upon\nthis intelligence the Frenchman, a bold, brave fellow, far from\nshrinking from his work, stands away N.E. for St. George\u2019s Channel, and\nin the latitude of 48 degrees and a half, unhappily enough, meets with\na large and rich English ship, bound home from Jamaica. It was in the\ngrey of the morning, and very clear, when a man on the roundtop cried\nout, \u201c_Au voile_, a sail.\u201d I was in hopes indeed it had been the\nEnglish men-of-war, and by the hurry and clutter they were in to get\nall ready for a fight, I concluded it was so, and got out of my hammock\n(for I had no cabin to lie in) that I might see what it was; but I soon\nfound that my hopes were in vain, and it was on the wrong side; for\nthat that being on our larboard bow, the ship lying then northward to\nmake the coast of Ireland, by the time I was turned out I could\nperceive they had all their sails bent and full, having begun to chase,\nand making great way. On the other hand, it was evident the ship saw\nthem too, and knew what they were, and, to avoid them, stretched away\nwith all the canvas they could lay on for the coast of Ireland, to run\nin there for harbour.\nOur privateer, it was plain, infinitely outsailed her, running two foot\nfor her one, and towards evening came up with them. Had they been able\nto have held it but six hours longer they would have got into Limerick\nRiver, or somewhere under shore, so that we should not have ventured\nupon them. But we came up with them, and the captain, when he saw there\nwas no remedy, bravely brought to and prepared to fight. She was a ship\nof thirty guns, but deep in the sea, cumbered between decks with goods,\nand could not run out her lower-deck guns, the sea also going pretty\nhigh, though at last she ventured to open her gun-room ports and fire\nwith three guns on a side. But her worst fate was, she sailed heavy,\nbeing deep loaden, and the Frenchman had run up by her side and poured\nin his broadside, and was soon ready again. However, as she was well\nmanned too, and that the English sailors bestirred themselves, they\ngave us their broadsides too very nimbly and heartily, and I found the\nFrenchman had a great many men killed at the first brush. But the next\nwas worse, for the English ship, though she did not sail so well as the\nFrenchman, was a bigger ship and strong built, and as we (the French)\nbore down upon them again, the English run boldly on board us, and laid\nthwart our hawse, lashing themselves fast to us. Then it was that the\nEnglish captain run out his lower tier of guns, and indeed tore the\nFrenchman so, that, had he held it, the privateer would have had the\nworst of it. But the Frenchman, with admirable readiness, indeed, and\ncourage, the captain appearing everywhere with his sword in his hand,\nbestirred themselves, and loosing themselves from the English ship,\nthrusting her off with brooms, and pouring their small shot so thick\nthat the other could not appear upon deck; I say, clearing themselves\nthus, they came to lie a-broadside of each other, when, by long firing,\nthe English ship was at length disabled, her mizzen-mast and bowsprit\nshot away, and, which was worst of all, her captain killed; so that,\nafter a fight which held all night\u2014for they fought in the dark\u2014and part\nof the next day, they were obliged to strike.\nI was civilly desired by the French captain to go down into the hold\nwhile the fight held, and, besides the civility of it, I found he was\nnot willing I should be upon deck. Perhaps he thought I might have some\nopportunity to do hurt, though I know not how it could be. However, I\nwas very ready to go down, for I had no mind to be killed, especially\nby my own friends; so I went down and sat by the surgeon, and had the\nopportunity to find that, the first broadside the English fired, seven\nwounded men were brought down to the surgeon, and three-and-thirty more\nafterwards, that is to say, when the English lay thwart their bow; and\nafter they cleared themselves there were about eleven more; so that\nthey had one-and-fifty men wounded and about two-and-twenty killed. The\nEnglishman had eighteen men killed and wounded, among whom was the\ncaptain.\nThe French captain, however, triumphed in his prize; for it was an\nexceeding rich ship, having abundance of silver on board. And after the\nship was taken and they had plundered all the great cabin afforded,\nwhich was very considerable, the mate promised the captain that, if he\nwould give him his liberty, he would discover six thousand pieces of\neight to him privately, which none of the men should know of. The\ncaptain engaged, and gave it under his hand to set him at liberty as\nsoon as he came on shore. Accordingly, in the night, after all was\neither turned in, as they call it, or employed on the duty of the\nwatch, the captain and the mate of the prize went on board, and having\nfaithfully discovered the money, which lay in a place made on purpose\nto conceal it, the captain resolved to let it lie till they arrived,\nand then he conveyed it on shore for his own use; so that the owners,\nnor the seamen, ever came to any share of it, which, by the way, was a\nfraud in the captain. But the mate paid his ransom by the discovery,\nand the captain gave him his liberty very punctually, as he had\npromised, and two hundred pieces of eight to carry him to England and\nto make good his losses.\nWhen he had made this prize, the captain thought of nothing more than\nhow to get safe to France with her, for she was a ship sufficient to\nenrich all his men and his owners also. The account of her cargo, by\nthe captain\u2019s books, of which I took a copy, was in general:\n260 hogsheads of sugar.\n187 smaller casks of sugar.\n176 barrels of indigo.\n28 casks of pimento.\n42 bags of cotton wool.\n80 cwt. of elephants\u2019 teeth.\n60 small casks of rum.\n18,000 pieces of eight, besides the six thousand concealed.\nSeveral parcels of drugs, tortoise-shell, sweetmeats, called succades,\nchocolate, lime juice, and other things of considerable value.\nThis was a terrible loss among the English merchants, and a noble booty\nfor the rogues that took it; but as it was in open war and by fair\nfighting, as they call it, there was no objection to be made against\nthem, and, to give them their due, they fought bravely for it.\nThe captain was not so bold as to meeting the English men-of-war\nbefore, but he was as wary now; for, having a prize of such value in\nhis hands, he was resolved not to lose her again, if he could help it.\nSo he stood away to the southward, and that so far that I once thought\nhe was resolved to go into the Straits, and home by Marseilles. But\nhaving sailed to the latitude of 45 degrees 3 quarters, or thereabouts,\nhe steered away east, into the bottom of the Bay of Biscay, and carried\nus all into the river of Bordeaux, where, on notice of his arrival with\nsuch a prize, his owners or principals came overland to see him, and\nwhere they consulted what to do with her. The money they secured, to be\nsure, and some of the cargo; but the ships sailed afterwards along the\ncoast to St. Malo, taking the opportunity of some French men-of-war\nwhich were cruising on the coast to be their convoy as far as Ushant.\nHere the captain rewarded and dismissed the English mate, as I have\nsaid, who got a passage from thence to Dieppe by sea, and after that\ninto England, by the help of a passport, through Flanders to Ostend.\nThe captain, it seems, the more willingly shipped him off that he might\nnot discover to others what he had discovered to him.\nI was now at Bordeaux, in France, and the captain asked me one morning\nwhat I intended to do. I did not understand him at first, but he soon\ngave me to understand that I was now either to be delivered up to the\nstate as an English prisoner, and so be carried to Dinan, in Brittany,\nor to find means to have myself exchanged, or to pay my ransom, and\nthis ransom he told me at first was three hundred crowns.\nI knew not what to do, but desired he would give me time to write to\nEngland to my friends; for that I had a cargo of goods sent to them by\nme from Virginia, but I did not know but it might have fallen into such\nhands as his were, and if it was, I knew not what would be my fate. He\nreadily granted that; so I wrote by the post, and had the satisfaction,\nin answer to it, to hear that the ship I was taken in had been retaken,\nand carried into Portsmouth; which I doubted would have made my new\nmaster more strict, and perhaps insolent; but he said nothing of it to\nme, nor I to him, though, as I afterwards understood, he had advice of\nit before.\nHowever, this was a help to me, and served to more than pay my ransom\nto the captain. And my correspondent in London, hearing of my being\nalive and at Bordeaux, immediately sent me a letter of credit upon an\nEnglish merchant at Bordeaux for whatever I might have occasion for. As\nsoon as I received this I went to the merchant, who honoured the letter\nof credit, and told me I should have what money I pleased. But as I,\nwho was before a mere stranger in the place and knew not what course to\ntake, had now, as it were, a friend to communicate my affairs to and\nconsult with, as soon as I told him my case, \u201cHold,\u201d says he; \u201cif that\nbe your case, I may perhaps find a way to get you off without a\nransom.\u201d\nThere was, it seems, a ship bound home to France from Martinico, taken\noff Cape Finisterre by an English man-of-war, and a merchant of\nRochelle, being a passenger, was taken on board, and brought into\nPlymouth. This man had made great solicitation by his friends to be\nexchanged, pleading poverty, and that he was unable to pay any ransom.\nMy friend told me something of it, but not much, only bade me not be\ntoo forward to pay any money to the captain, but pretend I could not\nhear from England. This I did till the captain appeared impatient.\nAfter some time the captain told me I had used him ill; that I had made\nhim expect a ransom, and he had treated me courteously and been at\nexpense to subsist me, and that I held him in suspense, but that, in\nshort, if I did not procure the money, he would send me to Dinan in ten\ndays, to lie there as the king\u2019s prisoner till I should be exchanged.\nMy merchant gave me my cue, and by his direction I answered I was very\nsensible of his civility, and sorry he should lose what expenses he had\nbeen at, but that I found my friends forgot me, and what to do I did\nnot know, and that, rather than impose upon him, I must submit to go to\nDinan, or where he thought fit to send me; but that if ever I obtained\nmy liberty, and came into England, I would not fail to reimburse him\nwhat expense he had been at for my subsistence; and so, in short, made\nmy case very bad in all my discourse. He shook his head and said\nlittle, but the next day entered me in the list of English prisoners to\nbe at the king\u2019s charge, as appointed by the intendant of the place,\nand to be sent away into Brittany.\nI was then out of the captain\u2019s power, and immediately the merchant,\nwith two others who were friends to the merchant prisoner at Plymouth,\nwent to the intendant and gained an order for the exchange, and my\nfriend giving security for my being forthcoming, in case the other was\nnot delivered, I had my liberty immediately, and went home with him to\nhis house.\nThus we bilked the captain of his ransom money. But, however, my friend\nwent to him, and letting him know that I was exchanged by the\ngovernor\u2019s order, paid him whatever he could say he was in disburse on\nmy account; and it was not then in the captain\u2019s power to object, or to\nclaim anything for a ransom.\nI got passage from hence to Dunkirk on board a French vessel, and\nhaving a certificate of an exchanged prisoner from the intendent at\nBordeaux, I had a passport given me to go into the Spanish Netherlands,\nand so whither I pleased.\nAccordingly I came to Ghent, in April\u2014\u2014, just as the armies were going\nto take the field. I had no dislike to the business of the army, but I\nthought I was a little above it now, and had other things to look to;\nfor that, in my opinion, nobody went into the field but those that\ncould not live at home. And yet I resolved to see the manner of it a\nlittle too, so, having made an acquaintance with an English officer\nquartered at Ghent, I told him my intention, and he invited me to go\nwith him, and offered me his protection as a volunteer, that I should\nquarter with him in his tent, and live as I would, and either carry\narms or not, as I saw occasion.\nThe campaign was none of the hardest that had been, or was like to be;\nso that I had the diversion of seeing the service, as it was proper to\ncall it, without much hazard. Indeed I did not see any considerable\naction, for there was not much fighting that campaign. As to the merit\nof the cause on either side, I knew nothing of it, nor had I suffered\nany of the disputes about it to enter into my thoughts. The Prince of\nOrange had been made king of England, and the English troops were all\non his side; and I heard a great deal of swearing and damning for King\nWilliam among the soldiers. But as for fighting, I observed the French\nbeat them several times, and particularly the regiment my friend\nbelonged to was surrounded in a village where they were posted, I knew\nnot upon what occasion, and all taken prisoners. But by great good hap,\nI, being not in service, and so not in command, was strolled away that\nday to see the country about; for it was my delight to see the strong\ntowns, and observe the beauty of their fortifications; and while I\ndiverted myself thus, I had the happy deliverance of not being taken by\nthe French for that time.\nWhen I came back I found the enemy possessed of the town, but as I was\nno soldier they did me no harm, and having my French passport in my\npocket, they gave me leave to go to Nieuport, where I took the\npacket-boat and came over to England, landing at Deal instead of Dover,\nthe weather forcing us into the Downs; and thus my short campaign\nended, and this was my second essay at the trade of soldiering.\nWhen I came to London I was very well received by my friend, to whom I\nhad consigned my effects, and I found myself in very good\ncircumstances; for all my goods, which, as above, by several ships, I\nhad consigned to him, came safe to hand; and my overseers that I had\nleft behind had shipped at several times four hundred hogsheads of\ntobacco to my correspondent in my absence, being the product of my\nplantation, or part of it, for the time of my being abroad; so that I\nhad above \u00a31000 in my factor\u2019s hands, two hundred hogsheads of tobacco\nbesides left in hand, not sold.\nI had nothing to do now but entirely to conceal myself from all that\nhad any knowledge of me before. And this was the easiest thing in the\nworld to do; for I was grown out of everybody\u2019s knowledge, and most of\nthose I had known were grown out of mine. My captain, who went with me,\nor, rather, who carried me away, I found, by inquiring at the proper\nplace, had been rambling about the world, came to London, fell into his\nown trade, which he could not forbear, and growing an eminent\nhighwayman, had made his exit at the gallows, after a life of fourteen\nyears\u2019 most exquisite and successful rogueries, the particulars of\nwhich would make, as I observed, an admirable history. My other brother\nJacque, who I called major, followed the like wicked trade, but was a\nman of more gallantry and generosity; and having committed innumerable\ndepredations upon mankind, yet had always so much dexterity as to bring\nhimself off, till at length he was laid fast in Newgate, and loaded\nwith irons, and would certainly have gone the same way as the captain,\nbut he was so dexterous a rogue that no gaol, no fetters, would hold\nhim; and he, with two more, found means to knock off their irons,\nworked their way through the wall of the prison, and let themselves\ndown on the outside in the night. So escaping, they found means to get\ninto France, where he followed the same trade, and with so much success\nthat he grew famous by the name of Anthony, and had the honour, with\nthree of his comrades, whom he had taught the English way of robbing\ngenerously, as they called it, without murdering or wounding, or\nill-using those they robbed;\u2014I say, he had the honour to be broke upon\nthe wheel at the Greve in Paris.\nAll these things I found means to be fully informed of, and to have a\nlong account of the particulars of their conduct from some of their\ncomrades who had the good fortune to escape, and who I got the\nknowledge of without letting them so much as guess at who I was or upon\nwhat account I inquired.\nI was now at the height of my good fortune. Indeed I was in very good\ncircumstances, and being of a frugal temper from the beginning, I saved\nthings together as they came, and yet lived very well too. Particularly\nI had the reputation of a very considerable merchant, and one that came\nover vastly rich from Virginia; and as I frequently bought supplies for\nmy several families and plantations there as they wrote to me for them,\nso I passed, I say, for a great merchant.\nI lived single, indeed, and in lodgings, but I began to be very well\nknown, and though I had subscribed my name only \u201cJack\u201d to my particular\ncorrespondent, yet the French, among whom I lived near a year, as I\nhave said, not understanding what Jack meant, called me Monsieur\nJacques and Colonel Jacques, and so gradually Colonel Jacque. So I was\ncalled in the certificate of exchanging me with the other prisoner, so\nthat I went so also into Flanders; upon which, and seeing my\ncertificate of exchange, as above, I was called Colonel Jacques in\nEngland by my friend who I called correspondent. And thus I passed for\na foreigner and a Frenchman, and I was infinitely fond of having\neverybody take me for a Frenchman; and as I spoke French very well,\nhaving learned it by continuing so long among them, so I went\nconstantly to the French church in London, and spoke French upon all\noccasions as much as I could; and, to complete the appearance of it, I\ngot me a French servant to do my business\u2014I mean as to my merchandise,\nwhich only consisted in receiving and disposing of tobacco, of which I\nhad about five hundred to six hundred hogsheads a year from my own\nplantations, and in supplying my people with necessaries as they wanted\nthem.\nIn this private condition I continued about two years more, when the\ndevil, owing me a spleen ever since I refused being a thief, paid me\nhome, with my interest, by laying a snare in my way which had almost\nruined me.\nThere dwelt a lady in the house opposite to the house I lodged in, who\nmade an extraordinary figure indeed. She went very well dressed, and\nwas a most beautiful person. She was well-bred, sung admirably fine,\nand sometimes I could hear her very distinctly, the houses being over\nagainst one another, in a narrow court, not much unlike Three King\nCourt in Lombard Street.\nThis lady put herself so often in my way that I could not in good\nmanners forbear taking notice of her, and giving her the ceremony of my\nhat when I saw her at her window, or at the door, or when I passed her\nin the court; so that we became almost acquainted at a distance.\nSometimes she also visited at the house I lodged at, and it was\ngenerally contrived that I should be introduced when she came, and thus\nby degrees we became more intimately acquainted, and often conversed\ntogether in the family, but always in public, at least for a great\nwhile.\nI was a mere boy in the affair of love, and knew the least of what\nbelonged to a woman of any man in Europe of my age. The thoughts of a\nwife, much less of a mistress, had never so much as taken the least\nhold of my head, and I had been till now as perfectly unacquainted with\nthe sex, and as unconcerned about them, as I was when I was ten years\nold, and lay in a heap of ashes at the glass-house.\nBut I know not by what witchcraft in the conversation of this woman,\nand her singling me out upon several occasions, I began to be ensnared,\nI knew not how, or to what end; and was on a sudden so embarrassed in\nmy thoughts about her that, like a charm, she had me always in her\ncircle. If she had not been one of the subtlest women on earth, she\ncould never have brought me to have given myself the least trouble\nabout her, but I was drawn in by the magic of a genius capable to\ndeceive a more wary capacity than mine, and it was impossible to resist\nher.\nShe attacked me without ceasing, with the fineness of her conduct, and\nwith arts which were impossible to be ineffectual. She was ever, as it\nwere, in my view, often in my company, and yet kept herself so on the\nreserve, so surrounded continually with obstructions, that for several\nmonths after she could perceive I sought an opportunity to speak to\nher, she rendered it impossible; nor could I ever break in upon her,\nshe kept her guard so well.\nThis rigid behaviour was the greatest mystery that could be,\nconsidering, at the same time, that she never declined my seeing her or\nconversing with me in public. But she held it on; she took care never\nto sit next me, that I might slip no paper into her hand or speak\nsoftly to her; she kept somebody or other always between, that I could\nnever come up to her; and thus, as if she was resolved really to have\nnothing to do with me, she held me at the bay several months.\nAll this while nothing was more certain than that she intended to have\nme, if she could catch; and it was indeed a kind of a catch, for she\nmanaged all by art, and drew me in with the most resolute backwardness,\nthat it was almost impossible not to be deceived by it. On the other\nhand, she did not appear to be a woman despicable, neither was she\npoor, or in a condition that should require so much art to draw any man\nin; but the cheat was really on my side; for she was unhappily told\nthat I was vastly rich, a great merchant, and that she would live like\na queen; which I was not at all instrumental in putting upon her,\nneither did I know that she went upon that motive.\nShe was too cunning to let me perceive how easy she was to be had; on\nthe contrary, she run all the hazards of bringing me to neglect her\nentirely that one would think any woman in the world could do. And I\nhave wondered often since how that it was possible it should fail of\nmaking me perfectly averse to her; for as I had a perfect indifferency\nfor the whole sex, and never till then entertained any notion of them,\nthey were no more to me than a picture hanging up against a wall.\nAs we conversed freely together in public, so she took a great many\noccasions to rally the men, and the weakness they were guilty of in\nletting the women insult them as they did. She thought if the men had\nnot been fools, marriage had been only treaties of peace between two\nneighbours, or alliances offensive or defensive, which must necessarily\nhave been carried on sometimes by interviews and personal treaties, but\noftener by ambassadors, agents, and emissaries on both sides; but that\nthe women had outwitted us, and brought us upon our knees, and made us\nwhine after them, and lower ourselves, so as we could never pretend to\ngain our equality again.\nI told her I thought it was a decency to the ladies to give them the\nadvantage of denying a little, that they might be courted, and that I\nshould not like a woman the worse for denying me. \u201cI expect it, madam,\u201d\nsays I, \u201cwhen I wait on you to-morrow;\u201d intimating that I intended it.\n\u201cYou shan\u2019t be deceived, sir,\u201d says she, \u201cfor I\u2019ll deny now, before you\nask me the question.\u201d\nI was dashed so effectually with so malicious, so devilish an answer\nthat I returned with a little sullenness, \u201cI shan\u2019t trespass upon you\nyet, madam; and I shall be very careful not to offend you when I do.\u201d\n\u201cIt is the greatest token of your respect, sir,\u201d says she, \u201cthat you\nare able to bestow upon me, and the most agreeable too, except one,\nwhich I will not be out of hopes of obtaining of you in a little time.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is in my power to oblige you in, madam,\u201d said I, \u201cyou may command\nme in at any time, especially the way we are talking of.\u201d This I spoke\nstill with a resentment very sincere.\n\u201cIt is only, sir, that you would promise to hate me with as much\nsincerity as I will endeavour to make you a suitable return.\u201d\n\u201cI granted that request, madam, seven years before you asked it,\u201d said\nI, \u201cfor I heartily hated the whole sex, and scarce know how I came to\nabate that good disposition in compliment to your conversation; but I\nassure you that abatement is so little that it does no injury to your\nproposal.\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s some mystery in that indeed, sir,\u201d said she, \u201cfor I desire to\nassist your aversion to women in a more particular manner, and hoped it\nshould never abate under my management.\u201d We said a thousand ill-natured\nthings after this, but she outdid me, for she had such a stock of\nbitterness upon her tongue as no woman ever went beyond her, and yet\nall this while she was the pleasantest and most obliging creature in\nevery part of our conversation that could possibly be, and meant not\none word of what she said; no, not a word. But I must confess it no way\nanswered her end, for it really cooled all my thoughts of her, and I,\nthat had lived in so perfect an indifferency to the sex all my days,\nwas easily returned to that condition again, and began to grow very\ncold and negligent in my usual respects to her upon all occasions.\nShe soon found she had gone too far with me, and, in short, that she\nwas extremely out in her politics; that she had to do with one that was\nnot listed yet among the whining sort of lovers, and knew not what it\nwas to adore a mistress in order to abuse her; and that it was not with\nme as it was with the usual sort of men in love, that are warmed by the\ncold, and rise in their passions as the ladies fall in their returns.\nOn the contrary, she found that it was quite altered. I was civil to\nher, as before, but not so forward. When I saw her at her\nchamber-window, I did not throw mine open, as I usually had done, to\ntalk with her. When she sung in the parlour, where I could easily hear\nit, I did not listen. When she visited at the house where I lodged, I\ndid not always come down; or if I did, I had business which obliged me\nto go abroad; and yet all this while, when I did come into her company,\nI was as intimate as ever.\nI could easily see that this madded her to the heart, and that she was\nperplexed to the last degree, for she found that she had all her game\nto play over again; that so absolute a reservedness, even to rudeness\nand ill manners, was a little too much; but she was a mere\nposture-mistress in love, and could put herself into what shapes she\npleased.\nShe was too wise to show a fondness or forwardness that looked like\nkindness. She knew that was the meanest and last step a woman can take,\nand lays her under the foot of the man she pretends to. Fondness is not\nthe last favour indeed, but it is the last favour but one that a woman\ncan grant, and lays her almost as low; I mean, it lays her at the mercy\nof the man she shows it to; but she was not come to that neither. This\nchameleon put on another colour, turned, on a sudden, the gravest,\nsoberest, majestic madam, so that any one would have thought she was\nadvanced in age in one week from two-and-twenty to fifty, and this she\ncarried on with so much government of herself that it did not in the\nleast look like art; but if it was a representation of nature only, it\nwas so like nature itself that nobody living can be able to\ndistinguish. She sung very often in her parlour, as well by herself as\nwith two young ladies who came often to see her. I could see by their\nbooks, and her guitar in her hand, that she was singing; but she never\nopened the window, as she was wont to do. Upon my coming to my window,\nshe kept her own always shut; or if it was open, she would be sitting\nat work, and not look up, it may be, once in half-an-hour.\nIf she saw me by accident all this while, she would smile, and speak as\ncheerfully as ever; but it was but a word or two, and so make her\nhonours and be gone; so that, in a word, we conversed just as we did\nafter I had been there a week.\nShe tired me quite out at this work; for though I began the\nstrangeness, indeed, yet I did not design the carrying it on so far.\nBut she held it to the last, just in the same manner as she began it.\nShe came to the house where I lodged as usual, and we were often\ntogether, supped together, played at cards together, danced together;\nfor in France I accomplished myself with everything that was needful to\nmake me what I believed myself to be even from a boy\u2014I mean a\ngentleman. I say, we conversed together, as above, but she was so\nperfectly another thing to what she used to be in every part of her\nconversation that it presently occurred to me that her former behaviour\nwas a kind of a rant or fit; that either it was the effect of some\nextraordinary levity that had come upon her, or that it was done to\nmimic the coquets of the town, believing it might take with me, who she\nthought was a Frenchman, and that it was what I loved. But her new\ngravity was her real natural temper, and indeed it became her so much\nbetter, or, as I should say, she acted it so well, that it really\nbrought me back to have, not as much only, but more mind to her than\never I had before.\nHowever, it was a great while before I discovered myself, and I stayed\nindeed to find out, if possible, whether this change was real or\ncounterfeit; for I could not easily believe it was possible the gay\nhumour she used to appear in could be a counterfeit. It was not,\ntherefore, till a year and almost a quarter that I came to any\nresolution in my thoughts about her, when, on a mere accident, we came\nto a little conversation together.\nShe came to visit at our house as usual, and it happened all the ladies\nwere gone abroad; but, as it fell out, I was in the passage or entry of\nthe house, going towards the stairs, when she knocked at the door; so,\nstepping back, I opened the door, and she, without any ceremony, came\nin, and ran forward into the parlour, supposing the women had been\nthere. I went in after her, as I could do no less, because she did not\nknow that the family was abroad.\nUpon my coming in she asked for the ladies. I told her I hoped she came\nto visit me now, for that the ladies were all gone abroad. \u201cAre they?\u201d\nsaid she, as if surprised\u2014though I understood afterwards she knew it\nbefore, as also that I was at home\u2014and then rises up to be gone. \u201cNo,\nmadam,\u201d said I, \u201cpray do not go; when ladies come to visit me, I do not\nuse to tire them of my company so soon.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s as ill-natured,\u201d says\nshe, \u201cas you could possibly talk. Pray don\u2019t pretend I came to visit\nyou. I am satisfied who I came to visit, and satisfied that you know\nit.\u201d \u201cYes, madam,\u201d said I; \u201cbut if I happen to be all of the family\nthat\u2019s left at home, then you came to visit me.\u201d\nJacque and lady\nCOLONEL JACQUE AND THE LADY\n\u201cI never receive visits from those that I hate,\u201d says she.\n\u201cYou have me there, indeed,\u201d said I; \u201cbut you never gave me leave to\ntell you why I hated you. I hated you because you would never give me\nan opportunity to tell you I loved you. Sure, you took me for some\nfrightful creature, that you would never come near enough so much as to\nlet me whisper to you that I love you.\u201d\n\u201cI never care to hear anything so disagreeable,\u201d says she, \u201cthough it\nbe spoken ever so softly.\u201d\nWe rallied thus for an hour. In short, she showed the abundance of her\nwit, and I an abundant deficiency of mine; for though three or four\ntimes she provoked me to the last degree, so that once I was going to\ntell her I had enough of her company, and, if she pleased I would wait\nupon her to the door, yet she had always so much witchcraft on her\ntongue that she brought herself off again; till, to make the story\nshort, we came at last to talk seriously on both sides about matrimony,\nand she heard me freely propose it, and answered me directly upon many\noccasions. For example, she told me I would carry her away to France or\nto Virginia, and that she could not think of leaving England, her\nnative country. I told her I hoped she did not take me for a kidnapper.\n(By the way, I did not tell her how I had been kidnapped myself.) She\nsaid no; but the consequence of my affairs, which were, it seems,\nmostly abroad, might oblige me to go, and she could never think of\nmarrying any man that she could not be content to go all over the world\nwith, if he had occasion to go himself. This was handsomely expressed\nindeed. I made her easy on that point, and thus we began the grand\nparley; which indeed she drew me into with the utmost art and subtilty,\nsuch as was peculiar to herself, but was infinitely her advantage in\nour treating of marriage; for she made me effectually court her, though\nat the same time in her design she courted me with the utmost skill,\nand such skill it was that her design was perfectly impenetrable to the\nlast moment.\nIn short, we came nearer and nearer every time we met; and after one\ncasual visit more, in which I had the mighty favour of talking with her\nalone, I then waited on her every day at her own house, or lodgings\nrather, and so we set about the work to a purpose, and in about a month\nwe gave the world the slip, and were privately married, to avoid\nceremony and the public inconveniency of a wedding.\nWe soon found a house proper for our dwelling, and so went to\nhousekeeping. We had not been long together but I found that gay temper\nof my wife returned, and she threw off the mask of her gravity and good\nconduct, that I had so long fancied was her mere natural disposition;\nand now, having no more occasion for disguises, she resolved to seem\nnothing but what really she was, a wild, untamed colt, perfectly loose,\nand careless to conceal any part, no, not the worst of her conduct.\nShe carried on this air of levity to such an excess that I could not\nbut be dissatisfied at the expense of it; for she kept company that I\ndid not like, lived beyond what I could support, and sometimes lost at\nplay more than I cared to pay. Upon which, one day, I took occasion to\nmention it, but lightly; and said to her, by way of raillery, that we\nlived merrily, for as long as it would last. She turned short upon me,\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d says she. \u201cWhy, you don\u2019t pretend to be uneasy, do\nye?\u201d \u201cNo, no, madam, not I, by no means; it is no business of mine, you\nknow,\u201d said I, \u201cto inquire what my wife spends, or whether she spends\nmore than I can afford, or less. I only desire the favour to know, as\nnear as you can guess, how long you will please to take to despatch me,\nfor I would not be too long a-dying.\u201d\n\u201cI do not know what you talk of,\u201d says she. \u201cYou may die as leisurely,\nor as hastily, as you please, when your time comes; I a\u2019nt a-going to\nkill you, as I know of.\u201d\n\u201cBut you are a-going to starve me, madam,\u201d said I, \u201cand hunger is as\nleisurely a death as breaking upon the wheel.\u201d\n\u201cI starve you! Why, are not you a great Virginia merchant, and did not\nI bring you \u00a31500? What would you have? Sure, you can maintain a wife\nout of that, can\u2019t you?\u201d\n\u201cYes, madam,\u201d says I, \u201cI could maintain a wife, but not a gamester,\nthough you had brought me \u00a31500 a year; no estate is big enough for a\nbox and dice.\u201d\nShe took fire at that, and flew out in a passion, and after a great\nmany bitter words, told me, in short, that she saw no occasion to alter\nher conduct; and as for my not maintaining her, when I could not\nmaintain her longer she would find some way or other to maintain\nherself.\nSome time after the first rattle of this kind, she vouchsafed to let me\nknow that she was pleased to be with child. I was at first glad of it,\nin hopes it would help to abate her madness; but it was all one, and\nher being with child only added to the rest, for she made such\npreparations for her lying-in, and the other appendixes of a child\u2019s\nbeing born, that, in short, I found she would be downright distracted.\nAnd I took the liberty to tell her one day that she would soon bring\nherself and me to destruction, and entreated her to consider that such\nfigures as those were quite above us, and out of our circle; and, in\nshort, that I neither could nor would allow such expenses; that, at\nthis rate, two or three children would effectually ruin me, and that I\ndesired her to consider what she was doing.\nShe told me, with an air of disdain, that it was none of her business\nto consider anything of that matter; that if I could not allow it, she\nwould allow it herself, and I might do my worst.\nI begged her to consider things for all that, and not drive me to\nextremities; that I married her to love and cherish her, and use her as\na good wife ought to be used, but not to be ruined and undone by her.\nIn a word, nothing could mollify her, nor any argument persuade her to\nmoderation, but withal she took it so heinously that I should pretend\nto restrain her, that she told me in so many words she would drop her\nburthen with me, and then, if I did not like it, she would take care of\nherself; she would not live with me an hour, for she would not be\nrestrained, not she; and talked a long while at that rate.\nI told her, as to her child, which she called her burthen, it should be\nno burthen to me; as to the rest, she might do as she pleased; it\nmight, however, do me this favour, that I should have no more lyings in\nat the rate of \u00a3136 at a time, as I found she intended it should be\nnow. She told me she could not tell that; if she had no more by me, she\nhoped she should by somebody else. \u201cSay you so, madam?\u201d said I. \u201cThen\nthey that get them shall keep them.\u201d She did not know that neither, she\nsaid, and so turned it off jeering, and, as it were, laughing at me.\nThis last discourse nettled me, I must confess, and the more because I\nhad a great deal of it and very often, till, in short, we began at\nlength to enter into a friendly treaty about parting.\nNothing could be more criminal than the several discourses we had upon\nthis subject. She demanded a separate maintenance, and, in particular,\nat the rate of \u00a3300 a year, and I demanded security of her that she\nshould not run me in debt. She demanded the keeping of the child, with\nan allowance of \u00a3100 a year for that, and I demanded that I should be\nsecured from being charged for keeping any she might have by somebody\nelse, as she had threatened me.\nIn the interval, and during these contests, she dropped her burthen (as\nshe called it), and brought me a son, a very fine child.\nShe was content during her lying-in to abate a little, though it was\nbut a very little indeed, of the great expense she had intended, and,\nwith some difficulty and persuasion, was content with a suit of\nchild-bed linen of \u00a315 instead of one she had intended of threescore;\nand this she magnified as a particular testimony of her condescension\nand a yielding to my avaricious temper, as she called it. But after she\nwas up again, it was the same thing, and she went on with her humour to\nthat degree that in a little time she began to carry it on to other\nexcesses, and to have a sort of fellows come to visit her, which I did\nnot like, and once, in particular, stayed abroad all night. The next\nday, when she came home, she began to cry out first; told me where (as\nshe said) she lay, and that the occasion was a christening, where the\ncompany had a feast and stayed too late; that, if I was dissatisfied, I\nmight inform myself there of all the particulars, where she lay, and\nthe like. I told her coldly, \u201cMadam, you do well to suggest my being\ndissatisfied, for you may be sure I am, and you could expect no other;\nthat as to going to your haunts to inform myself, that is not my\nbusiness: it is your business to bring testimonies of your behaviour,\nand to prove where you lay, and in what company. It is enough to me\nthat you lay out of your own house, without your husband\u2019s knowledge or\nconsent, and before you and I converse again I must have some\nsatisfaction of the particulars.\u201d\nShe answered, with all her heart; she was as in different as I; and\nsince I took so ill her lying at a friend\u2019s house on an extraordinary\noccasion, she gave me to understand that it was what she would have me\nexpect, and what she would have the liberty to do when she thought fit.\n\u201cWell, madam,\u201d said I, \u201cif I must expect what I cannot allow, you must\nexpect I shall shut my doors by day against those that keep out of them\nat night.\u201d\nShe would try me, she said, very speedily; and if I shut the doors\nagainst her, she would find a way to make me open them.\n\u201cWell, madam,\u201d says I, \u201cyou threaten me hard, but I would advise you to\nconsider before you take such measures, for I shall be as good as my\nword.\u201d However, it was not long that we could live together upon these\nterms; for I found very quickly what company she kept, and that she\ntook a course which I ought not to bear. So I began the separation\nfirst, and refused her my bed. We had indeed refrained all converse as\nhusband and wife for about two months before, for I told her very\nplainly I would father no brats that were not of my own getting; and\nmatters coming thus gradually to an extremity, too great to continue as\nit was, she went off one afternoon, and left me a line in writing,\nsignifying that affairs had come to such a pass between us that she did\nnot think fit to give me the opportunity of shutting her out of doors,\nand that therefore she had retired herself to such a place, naming a\nrelation of her own, as scandalous as herself; and that she hoped I\nwould not give her the trouble to sue for her support in the ordinary\ncourse of law, but that, as her occasions required, she should draw\nbills upon me, which she expected I would not refuse.\nI was extremely satisfied with this proceeding, and took care to let\nher hear of it, though I gave no answer at all to her letter; and as I\nhad taken care before that whenever she played such a prank as this,\nshe should not be able to carry much with her, so, after she was gone,\nI immediately broke up housekeeping, sold my furniture by public\noutcry, and in it everything in particular that was her own, and set a\nbill upon my door, giving her to understand by it that she had passed\nthe Rubicon, that as she had taken such a step of her own accord, so\nthere was no room left her ever to think of coming back again.\nThis was what any one may believe I should not have done if I had seen\nany room for a reformation; but she had given me such testimonies of a\nmind alienated from her husband, in particular espousing her own\nunsufferable levity, that there was indeed no possibility of our coming\nafterwards to any terms again.\nHowever, I kept a couple of trusty agents so near her that I failed not\nto have a full account of her conduct, though I never let her know\nanything of me but that I was gone over to France. As to her bills\nwhich she said she would draw upon me, she was as good as her word in\ndrawing one of \u00a330, which I refused to accept, and never gave her leave\nto trouble me with another.\nIt is true, and I must acknowledge it, that all this was a very\nmelancholy scene of life to me, and but that she took care by carrying\nherself to the last degree provoking, and continually to insult me, I\ncould never have gone on to the parting with so much resolution; for I\nreally loved her very sincerely, and could have been anything but a\nbeggar and a cuckold with her, but those were intolerable to me,\nespecially as they were put upon me with so much insult and rudeness.\nBut my wife carried it at last to a point that made all things light\nand easy to me, for after above a year\u2019s separation, and keeping such\ncompany as she thought fit, she was pleased to be with child again, in\nwhich she had, however, so much honesty as not to pretend that she had\nhad anything to do with me. What a wretched life she led after this,\nand how she brought herself to the utmost extremity of misery and\ndistress, I may speak of hereafter.\nI had found, soon after our parting, that I had a great deal of reason\nto put myself into a posture at first not to be imposed upon by her;\nfor I found very quickly that she had run herself into debt in several\nplaces very considerably, and that it was upon a supposition that I was\nliable to those debts. But I was gone, and it was absolutely necessary\nI should do so; upon which she found herself obliged, out of her wicked\ngains, however, whatever she made of them, to discharge most of those\ndebts herself.\nAs soon as she was delivered of her child, in which my intelligence was\nso good that I had gotten sufficient proof of it, I sued her in the\necclesiastical court, in order to obtain a divorce; and as she found it\nimpossible to avoid it, so she declined the defence, and I gained a\nlegal decree, or what they call it, of divorce, in the usual time of\nsuch process; and now I thought myself a free man once again, and began\nto be sick of wedlock with all my heart.\nI lived retired, because I knew she had contracted debts which I should\nbe obliged to pay, and I was resolved to be gone out of her reach with\nwhat speed I could. But it was necessary that I should stay till the\nVirginia fleet came in, because I looked for at least three hundred\nhogsheads of tobacco from thence, which I knew would heal all my\nbreaches; for indeed the extravagance of three years with this lady had\nsunk me most effectually, even far beyond her own fortune, which was\nconsiderable, though not quite \u00a31500, as she had called it.\nBut all the mischiefs I met with on account of this match were not over\nyet; for when I had been parted with her about three months, and had\nrefused to accept her bill of \u00a330, which I mentioned above, though I\nwas removed from my first lodgings too, and thought I had effectually\nsecured myself from being found out, yet there came a gentleman well\ndressed to my lodgings one day, and was let in before I knew of it, or\nelse I should scarce have admitted him.\nHe was led into a parlour, and I came down to him in my gown and\nslippers. When I came into the room he called me as familiarly by my\nname as if he had known me twenty years, and pulling out a pocket-book,\nhe shows me a bill upon me, drawn by my wife, which was the same bill\nfor \u00a330 that I had refused before.\n\u201cSir,\u201d says I, \u201cthis bill has been presented before, and I gave my\nanswer to it then.\u201d\n\u201cAnswer, sir!\u201d says he, with a kind of jeering, taunting air. \u201cI do not\nunderstand what you mean by an answer; it is not a question, sir; it is\na bill to be paid.\u201d\n\u201cWell, sir,\u201d says I, \u201cit is a bill; I know that, and I gave my answer\nto it before.\u201d\n\u201cSir, sir,\u201d says he very saucily, \u201cyour answer! There is no answer to a\nbill; it must be paid. Bills are to be paid, not to be answered. They\nsay you are a merchant, sir; merchants always pay their bills.\u201d\nI began to be angry too a little, but I did not like my man, for I\nfound he began to be quarrelsome. However, I said, \u201cSir, I perceive you\nare not much used to presenting bills. Sir, a bill is always first\npresented, and presenting is a question; it is asking if I will accept\nor pay the bill, and then whether I say yes or no, it is an answer one\nway or other. After \u2019tis accepted, it indeed requires no more answer\nbut payment when \u2019tis due. If you please to inform yourself, this is\nthe usage which all merchants or tradesmen of any kind who have bills\ndrawn upon them act by.\u201d\n\u201cWell, sir,\u201d says he, \u201cand what then? What is this to the paying me the\n\u201cWhy, sir,\u201d says I, \u201cit is this to it, that I told the person that\nbrought it I should not pay it.\u201d\n\u201cNot pay it!\u201d says he. \u201cBut you shall pay it; ay, ay, you will pay it.\u201d\n\u201cShe that draws it has no reason to draw any bills upon me, I am sure,\u201d\nsaid I; \u201cand I shall pay no bills she draws, I assure you.\u201d\nUpon this he turns short upon me: \u201cSir, she that draws this bill is a\nperson of too much honour to draw any bill without reason, and \u2019tis an\naffront to say so of her, and I shall expect satisfaction of you for\nthat by itself. But first the bill, sir\u2014the bill; you must pay the\nbill, sir.\u201d\nI returned as short: \u201cSir, I affront nobody. I know the person as well\nas you, I hope; and what I have said of her is no affront. She can have\nno reason to draw bills upon me, for I owe her nothing.\u201d\nI omit intermingling the oaths he laced his speech with, as too foul\nfor my paper. But he told me he would make me know she had friends to\nstand by her, that I had abused her, and he would let me know it, and\ndo her justice. But first I must pay his bill.\nI answered, in short, I would not pay the bill, nor any bills she\nshould draw.\nWith that he steps to the door and shuts it, and swore by G\u2014d he would\nmake me pay the bill before we parted, and laid his hand upon his\nsword, but did not draw it out.\nI confess I was frighted to the last degree, for I had no sword; and if\nI had, I must own that, though I had learned a great many good things\nin France to make me look like a gentleman, I had forgot the main\narticle of learning how to use a sword, a thing so universally\npractised there; and, to say more, I had been perfectly unacquainted\nwith quarrels of this nature; so that I was perfectly surprised when he\nshut the door, and knew not what to say or do.\nHowever, as it happened, the people of the house, hearing us pretty\nloud, came near the door, and made a noise in the entry to let me know\nthey were at hand; and one of the servants, going to open the door, and\nfinding it locked, called out to me, \u201cSir, for God\u2019s sake open the\ndoor! What is the matter? Shall we fetch a constable?\u201d I made no\nanswer, but it gave me courage; so I sat down composed in one of the\nchairs, and said to him, \u201cSir, this is not the way to make me pay the\nbill; you had much better be easy, and take your satisfaction another\nway.\u201d\nHe understood me of fighting, which, upon my word, was not in my\nthoughts; but I meant that he had better take his course at law.\n\u201cWith all my heart,\u201d says he; \u201cthey say you are a gentleman, and they\ncall you colonel. Now, if you are a gentleman, I accept your challenge,\nsir; and if you will walk out with me, I will take it for full payment\nof the bill, and will decide it as gentlemen ought to do.\u201d\n\u201cI challenge you, sir!\u201d said I. \u201cNot I; I made no challenge,\u201d I said.\n\u201cThis is not the way to make me pay a bill that I have not accepted;\nthat is, that you had better seek your satisfaction at law.\u201d\n\u201cLaw!\u201d says he; \u201claw! Gentlemen\u2019s law is my law. In short, sir, you\nshall pay me or fight me.\u201d And then, as if he had mistaken, he turns\nshort upon me, \u201cNay,\u201d says he, \u201cyou shall both fight me and pay me, for\nI will maintain her honour;\u201d and in saying this he bestowed about six\nor seven \u201cdamme\u2019s\u201d and oaths, by way of parenthesis.\nThis interval delivered me effectually, for just at the words \u201cfight\nme, for I will maintain her honour,\u201d the maid had brought in a\nconstable, with three or four neighbours to assist him.\nHe heard them come in, and began to be a little in a rage, and asked me\nif I intended to mob him instead of paying; and laying his hand on his\nsword, told me, if any man offered to break in upon him, he would run\nme through the first moment, that he might have the fewer to deal with\nafterwards.\nI told him he knew I had called for no help (believing he could not be\nin earnest in what he had said), and that, if anybody attempted to come\nin upon us, it was to prevent the mischief he threatened, and which he\nmight see I had no weapons to resist.\nUpon this the constable called, and charged us both in the king\u2019s name\nto open the door. I was sitting in a chair, and offered to rise. He\nmade a motion as if he would draw, upon which I sat down again, and the\ndoor not being opened, the constable set his foot against it and came\nin.\n\u201cWell, sir,\u201d says my gentleman, \u201cand what now? What\u2019s your business\nhere?\u201d \u201cNay, sir,\u201d says the constable, \u201cyou see my business. I am a\npeace-officer; all I have to do is to keep the peace, and I find the\npeople of the house frightened for fear of mischief between you, and\nthey have fetched me to prevent it.\u201d \u201cWhat mischief have they supposed\nyou should find?\u201d says he. \u201cI suppose,\u201d says the constable, \u201cthey were\nafraid you should fight.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s because they did not know this fellow\nhere. He never fights. They call him colonel,\u201d says he. \u201cI suppose he\nmight be born a colonel, for I dare say he was born a coward; he never\nfights; he dares not see a man. If he would have fought, he would have\nwalked out with me, but he scorns to be brave; they would never have\ntalked to you of fighting if they had known him. I tell you, Mr.\nConstable, he is a coward, and a coward is a rascal;\u201d and with that he\ncame to me, and stroked his finger down my nose pretty hard, and\nlaughed and mocked most horribly, as if I was a coward. Now, for aught\nI knew, it might be true, but I was now what they call a coward made\ndesperate, which is one of the worst of men in the world to encounter\nwith; for, being in a fury, I threw my head in his face, and closing\nwith him, threw him fairly on his back by mere strength; and had not\nthe constable stepped in and taken me off, I had certainly stamped him\nto death with my feet, for my blood was now all in a flame, and the\npeople of the house were frighted now as much the other way, lest I\nshould kill him, though I had no weapon at all in my hand.\nThe constable too reproved me in his turn; but I said to him, \u201cMr.\nConstable, do you not think I am sufficiently provoked? Can any man\nbear such things as these? I desire to know who this man is and who\nsent him hither.\u201d\n\u201cI am,\u201d says he, \u201ca gentleman, and come with a bill to him for money,\nand he refuses to pay it.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says the constable very prudently,\n\u201cthat is none of my business; I am no justice of the peace to hear the\ncause. Be that among yourselves, but keep your hands off one another,\nand that is as much as I desire; and therefore, sir,\u201d says the\nconstable to him, \u201cif I may advise you, seeing he will not pay the\nbill, and that must be decided between you as the law directs, I would\nhave you leave it for the present and go quietly away.\u201d\nHe made many impertinent harangues about the bill, and insisted that it\nwas drawn by my own wife. I said angrily, \u201cThen it was drawn by a\nwhore.\u201d He bullied me upon that, told me I durst not tell him so\nanywhere else; so I answered, \u201cI would very soon publish her for a\nwhore to all the world, and cry her down;\u201d and thus we scolded for near\nhalf-an-hour, for I took courage when the constable was there, for I\nknew that he would keep us from fighting, which indeed I had no mind\nto, and so at length I got rid of him.\nI was heartily vexed at this rencounter, and the more because I had\nbeen found out in my lodging, which I thought I had effectually\nconcealed. However, I resolved to remove the next day, and in the\nmeantime I kept within doors all that day till the evening, and then I\nwent out in order not to return thither any more.\nBeing come out into Gracechurch Street, I observed a man follow me,\nwith one of his legs tied up in a string, and hopping along with the\nother, and two crutches; he begged for a farthing, but I inclining not\nto give him anything, the fellow followed me still, till I came to a\ncourt, when I answered hastily to him, \u201cI have nothing for you! Pray do\nnot be so troublesome!\u201d with which words he knocked me down with one of\nhis crutches.\nBeing stunned with the blow, I knew nothing what was done to me\nafterwards; but coming to myself again, I found I was wounded very\nfrightfully in several places, and that among the rest my nose was slit\nupwards, one of my ears cut almost off, and a great cut with a sword on\nthe side of the forehead; also a stab into the body, though not\ndangerous.\nWho had been near me, or struck me, besides the cripple that struck me\nwith his crutch, I knew not, nor do I know to this hour; but I was\nterribly wounded, and lay bleeding on the ground some time, till,\ncoming to myself, I got strength to cry out for help, and people coming\nabout me, I got some hands to carry me to my lodging, where I lay by it\nmore than two months before I was well enough to go out of doors; and\nwhen I did go out, I had reason to believe that I was waited for by\nsome rogues, who watched an opportunity to repeat the injury I had met\nwith before.\nThis made me very uneasy, and I resolved to get myself out of danger if\npossible, and to go over to France, or home, as I called it, to\nVirginia, so to be out of the way of villains and assassinations; for\nevery time I stirred out here I thought I went in danger of my life;\nand therefore, as before, I went out at night, thinking to be\nconcealed, so now I never went out but in open day, that I might be\nsafe, and never without one or two servants to be my lifeguard.\nBut I must do my wife a piece of justice here too, and that was, that,\nhearing what had befallen me, she wrote me a letter, in which she\ntreated me more decently than she had been wont to do. She said she was\nvery sorry to hear how I had been used, and the rather because she\nunderstood it was on presenting her bill to me. She said she hoped I\ncould not, in my worst dispositions, think so hardly of her as to\nbelieve it was done by her knowledge or consent, much less by her order\nor direction; that she abhorred such things, and protested, if she had\nthe least knowledge or so much as a guess at the villains concerned,\nshe would discover them to me. She let me know the person\u2019s name to\nwhom she gave the bill, and where he lived, and left it to me to oblige\nhim to discover the person who had brought it and used me so ill, and\nwished I might find him and bring him to justice, and have him punished\nwith the utmost severity of the law.\nI took this so kindly of my wife that I think in my conscience, had she\ncome after it herself to see how I did, I had certainly taken her\nagain; but she satisfied herself with the civility of another letter,\nand desiring me to let her know as often as I could how I was; adding\nthat it would be infinitely to her satisfaction to hear I was recovered\nof the hurt I had received, and that he was hanged at Tyburn who had\ndone it.\nShe used some expressions signifying, as I understood them, her\naffliction at our parting and her continued respect for me; but did not\nmake any motion towards returning. Then she used some arguments to move\nme to pay her bills, intimating that she had brought me a large\nfortune, and now had nothing to subsist on, which was very severe.\nI wrote her an answer to this letter, though I had not to the other,\nletting her know how I had been used; that I was satisfied, upon her\nletter, that she had no hand in it; that it was not in her nature to\ntreat me so, who had never injured her, used any violence with her, or\nbeen the cause or desire of our parting; that, as to her bill, she\ncould not but know how much her expensive way of living had straitened\nand reduced me, and would, if continued, have ruined me; that she had\nin less than three years spent more than as much as she brought to me,\nand would not abate her expensive way, though calmly entreated by me,\nwith protestations that I could not support so great an expense, but\nchose rather to break up her family and go from me than to restrain\nherself to reasonable limits; though I used no violence with her, but\nentreaties and earnest persuasions, backed with good reason; letting\nher know how my estate was, and convincing her that it must reduce us\nto poverty at least; that, however, if she would recall her bill, I\nwould send her \u00a330, which was the sum mentioned in her bill, and,\naccording to my ability, would not let her want, if she pleased to live\nwithin due bounds; but then I let her know also that I had a very bad\naccount of her conduct, and that she kept company with a scandalous\nfellow, who I named to her; that I was loth to believe such things of\nher, but that, to put an entire end to the report and restore her\nreputation, I let her know that still, after all I heard, if she would\nresolve to live without restraints, within the reasonable bounds of my\ncapacity, and treat me with the same kindness, affection, and\ntenderness as I always had treated her, and ever would, I was willing\nto receive her again, and would forget all that was past; but that, if\nshe declined me now, it would be forever; for if she did not accept my\noffer, I was resolved to stay here no longer, where I had been so\nill-treated on many occasions, but was preparing to go into my own\ncountry, where I would spend my days in quiet, and in a retreat from\nthe world.\nShe did not give such an answer to this as I expected; for though she\nthanked me for the \u00a330, yet she insisted upon her justification in all\nother points; and though she did not refuse to return to me, yet she\ndid not say she accepted it, and, in short, said little or nothing to\nit, only a kind of claim to a reparation of her injured reputation, and\nthe like.\nThis gave me some surprise at first, for I thought, indeed, any woman\nin her circumstances would have been very willing to have put an end to\nall her miseries, and to the reproach which was upon her, by a\nreconciliation, especially considering she subsisted at that time but\nvery meanly. But there was a particular reason which prevented her\nreturn, and which she could not plead to in her letter, yet was a good\nreason against accepting an offer which she would otherwise have been\nglad of; and this was, that, as I have mentioned above, she had fallen\ninto bad company, and had prostituted her virtue to some of her\nflatterers, and, in short, was with child; so that she durst not\nventure to accept my offer.\nHowever, as I observed above, she did not absolutely refuse it,\nintending (as I understood afterward) to keep the treaty of it on foot\ntill she could drop her burthen, as she had called it before, and\nhaving been delivered privately, have accepted my proposal afterward;\nand, indeed, this was the most prudent step she could take, or, as we\nmay say, the only step she had left to take. But I was too many for her\nhere too. My intelligence about her was too good for her to conceal\nsuch an affair from me, unless she had gone away before she was visibly\nbig, and unless she had gone farther off too than she did; for I had an\naccount to a tittle of the time when, and place where, and the creature\nof which she was delivered; and then my offers of taking her again were\nat an end, though she wrote me several very penitent letters,\nacknowledging her crime and begging me to forgive her. But my spirit\nwas above all that now, nor could I ever bear the thoughts of her after\nthat, but pursued a divorce, and accordingly obtained it, as I have\nmentioned already.\nThings being at this pass, I resolved, as I have observed before, to go\nover to France, after I had received my effects from Virginia; and\naccordingly I came to Dunkirk in the year \u2014\u2014, and here I fell into\ncompany with some Irish officers of the regiment of Dillon, who by\nlittle and little entered me into the army, and by the help of\nLieutenant-General \u2014\u2014, an Irishman, and some money, I obtained a\ncompany in his regiment, and so went into the army directly.\nI was exceeding pleased with my new circumstances, and now I used to\nsay to myself I was come to what I was born to, and that I had never\ntill now lived the life of a gentleman.\nOur regiment, after I had been some time in it, was commanded into\nItaly, and one of the most considerable actions that I was in was the\nfamous attack upon Cremona, in the Milanese, where the Germans, being\nprivately and by treachery let into the town in the night through a\nkind of common sewer, surprised the town and got possession of the\ngreatest part of it, surprising the mareschal, Duke de Villeroi, and\ntaking him prisoner as he came out of his quarters, and beating the few\nFrench troops which were left in the citadel; but were in the middle of\ntheir victory so boldly and resolutely attacked by two Irish regiments\nwho were quartered in the street leading to the river Po, and who kept\npossession of the water-gate, or Po gate, of the town, by which the\nGerman reinforcements should have come in, that, after a most desperate\nfight, the Germans had their victory wrung out of their hands, and not\nbeing able to break through us to let in their friends, were obliged at\nlength to quit the town again, to the eternal honour of those Irish\nregiments, and indeed of their whole nation, and for which we had a\nvery handsome compliment from the king of France.\nI now had the satisfaction of knowing, and that for the first time too,\nthat I was not that cowardly, low-spirited wretch that I was when the\nfellow bullied me in my lodgings about the bill of \u00a330. Had he attacked\nme now, though in the very same condition, I should, naked and unarmed\nas I was, have flown in the face of him and trampled him under my feet.\nBut men never know themselves till they are tried, and courage is\nacquired by time and experience of things.\nPhilip de Comines tells us that, after the battle of Monteleri, the\nCount de Charolois, who till then had an utter aversion to the war, and\nabhorred it and everything that belonged to it, was so changed by the\nglory he obtained in that action, and by the flattery of those about\nhim, that afterwards the army was his mistress and the fatigues of the\nwar his chief delight. It is too great an example for me to bring in my\nown case, but so it was, that they flattered me so with my bravery, as\nthey called it, on the occasion of this action, that I fancied myself\nbrave, whether I was so or not, and the pride of it made me bold and\ndaring to the last degree on all occasions. But what added to it was,\nthat somebody gave a particular account to the Court of my being\ninstrumental to the saving the city, and the whole Cremonese, by my\nextraordinary defence of the Po gate, and by my managing that defence\nafter the lieutenant-colonel who commanded the party where I was posted\nwas killed; upon which the king sent me a public testimony of his\naccepting my service, and sent me a brevet to be lieutenant-colonel,\nand the next courier brought me actually a commission for\nlieutenant-colonel in the regiment of \u2014\u2014.\nI was in several skirmishes and petty encounters before this, by which\nI gained the reputation of a good officer; but I happened to be in some\nparticular posts too, by which I got somewhat that I liked much better,\nand that was a good deal of money.\nOur regiment was sent from France to Italy by sea. We embarked at\nToulon, and landed at Savona, in the territory of Genoa, and marched\nfrom thence to the duchy of Milan. At the first town we were sent to\ntake possession of, which was Alexandria, the citizens rose upon our\nmen in a most furious manner, and drove the whole garrison, which\nconsisted of eight hundred men\u2014that is, French and soldiers in the\nFrench service\u2014quite out of the town.\nI was quartered in a burgher\u2019s house, just by one of the ports, with\neight of my men and a servant, where, calling a short council with my\nmen, we were resolved to maintain the house we were in, whatever it\ncost, till we received orders to quit it from the commanding officer.\nUpon this, when I saw our men could not stand their ground in the\nstreet, being pressed hard by the citizens, I turned out of doors all\nthe family, and kept the house as a castle, which I was governor in;\nand as the house joined to the city gate, I resolved to maintain it, so\nas to be the last that should quit the place, my own retreat being\nsecured by being so near the port.\nHaving thus emptied the house of the inhabitants, we made no scruple of\nfilling our pockets with whatever we could find there. In a word, we\nleft nothing we could carry away, among which it came to my lot to dip\ninto the burgher\u2019s cabinet whose house it was where we were, and there\nI took about the quantity of two hundred pistoles in money and plate,\nand other things of value. There was great complaint made to Prince\nVaudemont, who was then governor of the Milanese, of this violence. But\nas the repulse the citizens gave us was contrary to his order, and to\nthe general design of the prince, who was then wholly in the interest\nof King Philip, the citizens could obtain nothing; and I found that if\nwe had plundered the whole city it would have been the same thing; for\nthe governor had orders to take our regiment in, and it was an act of\nopen rebellion to resist us as they did. However, we had orders not to\nfire upon the burghers, unless constrained to it by evident necessity,\nand we rather chose to quit the place as we did than dispute it with a\ndesperate body of fellows, who wanted no advantage of us, except only\nthat of having possession of two bastions and one port of our retreat.\nFirst, they were treble our number; for the burghers, being joined by\nseven companies of the regular troops, made up above sixteen hundred\nmen, besides rabble, which was many more, whereas we were about eight\nhundred in all; they also had the citadel and several pieces of cannon,\nso that we could have made nothing of it if we had attacked them. But\nthey submitted three or four days after to other forces, the soldiers\nwithin turning upon them and taking the citadel from them.\nAfter this we lay still in quarters eight months. For the prince,\nhaving secured the whole Milanese for King Philip, and no enemy\nappearing for some time, had nothing to do but to receive the auxiliary\ntroops of France, and as they came, extend himself every way as he\ncould, in order to keep the imperialists (who were preparing to fall\ninto Italy with a great army) as much at a distance as possible, which\nhe did by taking possession of the city of Mantua, and of most of the\ntowns on that side, as far as the Lake De la Guarda and the river\nAdige.\nWe lay in Mantua some time, but were afterwards drawn out by order of\nthe Count de Tesse (afterwards Marshal of France), to form the French\narmy, till the arrival of the Duke de Vend\u00f4me, who was to command in\nchief. Here we had a severe campaign, _anno_ 1701, having Prince Eugene\nof Savoy and an army of forty thousand Germans, all old soldiers, to\ndeal with; and though the French army was more numerous than the enemy\nby twenty-five thousand men, yet, being on the defensive, and having so\nmany posts to cover, not knowing exactly where the Prince of Savoy, who\ncommanded the imperial army, would attack us, it obliged the French to\nkeep their troops so divided and so remote from one another that the\nGermans pushed on their design with great success, as the histories of\nthose times more fully relate.\nI was at the action of Carpi, July 1701, where we were worsted by the\nGermans; indeed, were forced to quit our encampment and give up to the\nprince the whole river Adige, and where our regiment sustained some\nloss. But the enemies got little by us, and Monsieur Catinat, who\ncommanded at that time, drew up in order of battle the next day in\nsight of the German army, and gave them a defiance; but they would not\nstir, though we offered them battle two days together; for, having\ngained the passage over the Adige by our quitting Rivoli, which was\nthen useless to us, their business was done.\nFinding they declined a decisive action, our generals pressed them in\ntheir quarters, and made them fight for every inch of ground they\ngained; and at length, in the September following, we attacked them in\ntheir intrenched posts of Chiar. Here we broke into the very heart of\ntheir camp, where we made a very terrible slaughter. But I know not by\nwhat mistake among our generals, or defect in the execution of their\norders, the brigade of Normandy and our Irish Brigade, who had so\nbravely entered the German intrenchments, were not supported as we\nshould have been, so that we were obliged to sustain the shock of the\nwhole German army, and at last to quit the advantage we had gained, and\nthat not without loss; but, being timely reinforced by a great body of\nhorse, the enemy were in their turn beaten off too, and driven back\ninto their very camp. The Germans boasted of having a great victory\nhere, and indeed, in repulsing us after we had gained their camp, they\nhad the advantage. But had Monsieur de Tesse succoured us in time, as\nold Catinat said he ought to have done, with twelve thousand foot which\nhe had with him, that day\u2019s action had put an end to the war, and\nPrince Eugene must have been glad to have gone back to Germany in more\nhaste than he came, if, perhaps, we had not cut him short by the way.\nBut the fate of things went another way, and the Germans continued all\nthat campaign to push forward and advance one post after another, till\nthey beat us quite out of the Milanese.\nThe latter part of this campaign we made only a party war, the French,\naccording to their volatile temper, being every day abroad, either\nforaging or surprising the enemy\u2019s foragers, plundering or\ncircumventing the plunders of the other side. But they very often came\nshort home, for the Germans had the better of them on several\noccasions; and indeed so many lost their lives upon these petty\nencounters that I think, including those who died of distempers gotten\nby hard service and bad quarters, lying in the field even till the\nmiddle of December among rivers and bogs, in a country so full of\ncanals and rivers as that part of Italy is known to be; I say, we lost\nmore men, and so did the enemy also, than would have been lost in a\ngeneral decisive battle.\nThe Duke of Savoy, to give him his due, pressed earnestly to put it to\na day and come to a battle with Prince Eugene; but the Duke de\nVilleroi, Monsieur Catinat, and the Count de Tesse were all against it;\nand the principal reason was, that they knew the weakness of the\ntroops, who had suffered so much on so many occasions that they were in\nno condition to give battle to the Germans. So after, as I say, about\nthree months\u2019 harassing one another with parties, we went into winter\nquarters.\nBefore we marched out of the field, our regiment, with a detachment of\ndragoons of six hundred, and about two hundred and fifty horse, went\nout with a design to intercept Prince Commercy, a general of note under\nPrince Eugene of Savoy. The detachment was intended to be only horse\nand dragoons; but because it was the imperialists\u2019 good luck to beat\nmany of our parties, and, as was given out, many more than we beat of\ntheirs, and because it was believed that the prince, who was an officer\nof good note among them, would not go abroad but in very good company,\nthe Irish regiment of foot was ordered to be added, that, if possible,\nthey might meet with their match.\nI was commanded, about two hours before, to pass about two hundred foot\nand fifty dragoons at a small wood where our general had intelligence\nthat prince would post some men to secure his passage, which\naccordingly I did. But Count Tesse, not thinking our party strong\nenough, had marched himself, with a thousand horse and three hundred\ngrenadiers, to support us. And it was very well he did so; for Prince\nCommercy, having intelligence of the first party, came forward sooner\nthan they expected, and fell upon them, and had entirely routed them\nhad not the Count, hearing the firing, advanced with the thousand horse\nhe had, with such expedition as to support his men in the very heat of\nthe action, by which means the Germans were defeated and forced to\nretire. But the prince made a pretty good retreat, and after the action\ncame on to the wood where I was posted; but the surprise of his defeat\nhad prevented his sending a detachment to secure the pass at the wood,\nas he intended.\nThe Count de Tesse, understanding that we were sent, as above, to the\nwood, followed them close at the heels, to prevent our being cut off,\nand, if it were possible that we should give them any check at the\nwood, to fall in and have another brush with them. It was near night\nbefore they came to the wood, by which means they could not discern our\nnumber. But when they came up to the wood, fifty dragoons advanced to\ndiscover the pass and see if all was clear. These we suffered to pass a\ngreat way into the defile, or lane, that went through the wood, and\nthen clapping in between them and the entrance, cut off their retreat\nso effectually that when they discovered us and fired, they were\ninstantly surrounded and cut in pieces, the officers who commanded them\nand eight dragoons only being made prisoners.\nThis made the prince halt, not knowing what the case was or how strong\nwe were, and, to get better intelligence, sent two hundred horse to\nsurround or skirt the wood and beat up our quarter, and in the interim\nthe Count de Tesse appeared in his rear. We found the strait he was in\nby the noise of our own troops at a distance; so we resolved to engage\nthe two hundred horse immediately. Accordingly our little troop of\nhorse drew up in the entrance of the lane and offered to skirmish, and\nour foot, lying behind the hedge which went round the wood, stood ready\nto act as occasion should offer. The horse, being attacked, gave way,\nand retired into the lane; but the Germans were too old for us there.\nThey contented themselves to push us to the entrance, but would not be\ndrawn into a narrow pass without knowing whether the hedges were lined\nor no.\nBut the prince, finding the French in his rear, and not being strong\nenough to engage again, resolved to force his way through, and\ncommanded his dragoons to alight and enter the wood, to clear the\nhedges on either side the lane, that he might pass with his cavalry.\nThis they did so vigorously, and were so much too strong for us, that\nthough we made good our ground a long time, yet our men were almost\nhalf of them cut in pieces. However, we gave time to the French cavalry\nto come up, and to fall on the prince\u2019s troops and cut them off, and\ntake a great many prisoners, and then we retreated in our turn, opening\na gap for our own horse to break in. Three hundred of the dragoons were\nkilled, and two hundred of them taken prisoners.\nIn the first heat of this action, a German officer of dragoons, well\nfollowed, had knocked down three men that stood next me; and, offering\nme quarter, I was obliged to accept it, and gave him my sword; for our\nmen were upon the point of quitting their post and shifting every one\nas they could. But the scale was turned, for our cavalry breaking in,\nas above, the dragoons went to wreck, and the officer who had me\nprisoner, turning to me, said, \u201cWe are all lost.\u201d I asked him if I\ncould serve him. \u201cStand still a little,\u201d says he; for his men fought\nmost desperately indeed. But about two hundred French horse appearing\nin his rear too, he said to me in French, \u201cI will be your prisoner,\u201d\nand returning me my sword, gave me also his own. A dragoon that stood\nnear him was just going to do the like, when he was shot dead, and the\nhorse coming up, the field was cleared in an instant. But Prince\nCommercy went off with the rest of his party, and was pursued no\nfarther.\nThere were sixteen or seventeen of our men released, as I was, from\nbeing taken; but they had not the luck I had, to take the officer that\nhad them in keeping. He had been so generous to me as not to ask what\nmoney I had about me, though I had not much if he had. But I lost by\nhis civility, for then I could not have the assurance to ask him for\nhis money, though I understood he had near a hundred pistoles about\nhim. But he very handsomely at night, when we came to our tents, made\nme a present of twenty pistoles, and in return I obtained leave for him\nto go to Prince Eugene\u2019s camp upon his parole, which he did, and so got\nhimself exchanged.\nIt was after this campaign that I was quartered at Cremona, when the\naction happened there of which I have spoken already, and where our\nIrish regiment did such service that they saved the town from being\nreally surprised, and indeed beat the Germans out again, after they had\nbeen masters of three-quarters of the town six hours, and by which they\ngained a very great reputation.\nBut I hasten on to my own history, for I am not writing a journal of\nthe wars, in which I had no long share.\nThe summer after this our two Irish regiments were drawn out into the\nfield, and had many a sore brush with the Germans; for Prince Eugene, a\nvigilant general, gave us little rest, and gained many advantages by\nhis continual moving up and down, harassing his own men and ours too;\nand whoever will do the French justice, and knew how they had behaved,\nmust acknowledge they never declined the Germans, but fought them upon\nall occasions with the utmost resolution and courage; and though it\ncost the blood of an infinite number of fine gentlemen, as well as\nprivate soldiers, yet the Duke de Vend\u00f4me, who now commanded, though\nKing Philip was himself in the army this campaign, made the Prince of\nSavoy a full return in his own kind, and drove him from post to post,\ntill he was just at the point of quitting the whole country of Italy.\nAll that gallant army Prince Eugene brought with him into Italy, which\nwas the best without doubt, for the goodness of the troops, that ever\nwere there, laid their bones in that country, and many thousands more\nafter them, till, the affairs of France declining in other places, they\nwere forced in their turn to give way to their fate, as may be seen in\nthe histories of those times, as above. But it is none of my business.\nThe part that I bore in these affairs was but short and sharp. We took\nthe field about the beginning of July 1702, and the Duke de Vend\u00f4me\nordered the whole army to draw the sooner together, in order to relieve\nthe city of Mantua, which was blocked up by the imperialists.\nPrince Eugene was a politic, and indeed a fortunate, prince, and had\nthe year before pushed our army upon many occasions. But his good\nfortune began to fail him a little this year, for our army was not only\nmore numerous than his, but the duke was in the field before him; and\nas the prince had held Mantua closely blocked up all the winter, the\nduke resolved to relieve the town, cost what it would. As I said, the\nduke was first in the field; the prince was in no condition to prevent\nhis raising the blockade by force; so he drew off his troops, and\nleaving several strong bodies of troops to protect Bersello, which the\nDuke de Vend\u00f4me threatened, and Borgo Fort, where his magazine lay, he\ndrew all the rest of his forces together, to make head against us. By\nthis time the king of Spain was come into the army, and the Duke de\nVend\u00f4me lay with about thirty-five thousand men near Luzara, which he\nhad resolved to attack, to bring Prince Eugene to a battle. The Prince\nof Vaudemont lay intrenched with twenty thousand more at Rivalto,\nbehind Mantua, to cover the frontiers of Milan, and there was near\ntwelve thousand in Mantua itself; and Monsieur Pracontal lay with ten\nthousand men just under the cannon of one of the forts which guard the\ncauseway which leads into the city of Mantua; so that, had all these\njoined, as they would have done in a few days more, the prince must\nhave been put to his shifts, and would have had enough to do to have\nmaintained himself in Italy; for he was master of no one place in the\ncountry that could have held out a formal siege of fifteen days\u2019 open\ntrenches, and he knew all this very well; and therefore it seems, while\nthe Duke of Vend\u00f4me resolved, if possible, to bring him to a battle,\nand to that end made dispositions to attack Luzara, we were surprised\nto find, the 15th of June 1702, the whole imperial army appeared in\n_battalia_, and in full march, to attack us.\nAs it happened, our army was all marching in columns towards them, as\nwe had done for two days before; and I should have told you that, three\ndays before, the duke having noticed that General Visconti, with three\nimperial regiments of horse and one of dragoons, was posted at\nSan-Victoria, on the Tessona, he resolved to attack them; and this\ndesign was carried so secretly, that while Monsieur Visconti, though\nour army was three leagues another way, was passing towards the\nModenese, he found himself unexpectedly attacked by six thousand horse\nand dragoons of the French army. He defended himself very bravely for\nnear an hour; when, being overpowered, and finding he should be forced\ninto disorder, he sounded a retreat. But the squadrons had not faced\nabout to make their retreat scarce a quarter of an hour, when they\nfound themselves surrounded with a great body of infantry, who had\nentirely cut off their retreat, except over the bridge of Tessona,\nwhich being thronged with their baggage, they could neither get\nbackward or forward; so they thrust and tumbled over one another in\nsuch a manner that they could preserve no kind of order; but abundance\nfell into the river and were drowned, many were killed, and more taken\nprisoners; so that, in a word, the whole three regiments of horse and\none of dragoons were entirely defeated.\nThis was a great blow to the prince, because they were some of the\nchoicest troops of his whole army. We took about four hundred\nprisoners, and all their baggage, which was a very considerable booty,\nand about eight hundred horses; and no doubt these troops were very\nmuch wanted in the battle that ensued on the 15th, as I have said. Our\narmy being in full march, as above, to attack Luzara, a party of\nGermans appeared, being about six hundred horse, and in less than an\nhour more their whole army, in order of battle.\nOur army formed immediately, and the duke posted the regiments as they\ncame up so much to their advantage that Prince Eugene was obliged to\nalter his dispositions, and had this particular inconvenience upon his\nhands, viz., to attack an army superior to his own, in all their most\nadvantageous posts; whereas, had he thought fit to have waited but one\nday, we should have met him half-way. But this was owing to the pride\nof the German generals, and their being so opinionated of the goodness\nof their troops. The royal army was posted with the left to the great\nriver Po, on the other side of which the Prince of Vaudemont\u2019s army lay\ncannonading the intrenchments which the imperialists had made at Borgo\nFort; and hearing that there was like to be a general battle, he\ndetached twelve battalions and about a thousand horse, to reinforce the\nroyal army; all which, to our great encouragement, had time to join the\narmy, while Prince Eugene was making his new dispositions for the\nattack. And yet it was the coming of these troops which caused Prince\nEugene to resolve to begin the fight, expecting to have come to an\naction before they could come up. But he was disappointed in the reason\nof fighting, and yet was obliged to fight too, which was an error in\nthe prince that it was too late to retrieve.\nIt was five o\u2019clock in the evening before he could bring up his whole\nline to engage; and then, after having cannonaded us to no great\npurpose for half-an-hour, his right, commanded by the Prince de\nCommercy, attacked our left wing with great fury. Our men received them\nso well and seconded one another so punctually that they were repulsed\nwith a very great slaughter; and the Prince de Commercy being,\nunhappily for them, killed in the first onset, the regiments, for want\nof orders, and surprised with the fall of so great a man, were pushed\ninto disorder, and one whole brigade was entirely broke.\nBut their second line, advancing under General Herbeville, restored\nthings in the first. The battalions rallied, and they came boldly on to\ncharge a second time, and being seconded with new reinforcements from\ntheir main body, our men had their turn, and were pushed to a canal\nwhich lay on their left flank between them and the Po, behind which\nthey rallied; and being supported by new troops, as well horse as foot,\nthey fought on both sides with the utmost obstinacy, and with such\ncourage and skill that it was not possible to judge who should have had\nthe better could they have been able to have fought it out.\nOn the right of the royal army was posted the flower of the French\ncavalry\u2014namely, the gendarmes, the royal carbineers, and the queen\u2019s\nhorse-guards, with four hundred horse more\u2014and next them the infantry,\namong which were our brigade. The horse advanced first to charge, and\nthey carried all before them sword in hand, receiving the fire of two\nimperial regiments of cuirassiers without firing a shot, and falling in\namong them, bore them down by the strength of their horses, putting\nthem into confusion, and left so clear a field for us to follow that\nthe first line of our infantry stood drawn up upon the ground which the\nenemy at first possessed.\nIn this first attack the Marquis de Crequi, who commanded the whole\nright wing, was killed\u2014a loss which fully balanced the death of the\nPrince de Commercy on the side of the Germans. After we had thus pushed\nthe enemy\u2019s cavalry, as above, their troops, being rallied by the\ndexterity of their generals and supported by three imperial regiments\nof foot, came on again to the charge with such fury that nothing could\nwithstand them. And here two battalions of our Irish regiments were put\ninto disorder, and abundance of our men killed; and here also I had the\nmisfortune to receive a musket-shot, which broke my left arm; and that\nwas not all, for I was knocked down by a giant-like German soldier,\nwho, when he thought he had killed me, set his foot upon me, but was\nimmediately shot dead by one of my men, and fell just upon me, which,\nmy arm being broken, was a very great mischief to me; for the very\nweight of the fellow, who was almost as big as a horse, was such that I\nwas not able to stir.\nOur men were beaten back after this from the place where they stood;\nand so I was left in possession of the enemy, but was not their\nprisoner\u2014that is to say, was not found till next morning, when a party\nbeing sent, as usual, with surgeons to look after the wounded men among\nthe dead, found me almost smothered with the dead Germans and others\nthat lay near me. However, to do them justice, they used me with\nhumanity, and the surgeons set my arm very skilfully and well; and four\nor five days after, I had liberty to go to Parma upon parole.\nBoth the armies continued fighting, especially on our left, till it was\nso dark that it was impossible to know who they fired at, or for the\ngenerals to see what they did; so they abated firing gradually, and, as\nit may be truly said, the night parted them.\nBoth sides claimed the victory, and both concealed their losses as much\nas it was possible; but it is certain that never battle was fought with\ngreater bravery and obstinacy than this was; and had there been\ndaylight to have fought it out, doubtless there would have been many\nthousand more men killed on both sides.\nAll the Germans had to entitle them to the victory was, that they made\nour left retire, as I have said, to the canal, and to the high banks or\nmounds on the edge of the Po; but they had so much advantage in the\nretreat\u2014they fired from thence among the thickest of the enemy, and\ncould never be forced from their posts.\nThe best testimony the royal army had of the victory, and which was\ncertainly the better of the two, was, that, two days after the fight,\nthey attacked Guastalia, as it were in view of the German army, and\nforced the garrison to surrender, and to swear not to serve again for\nsix months, which, they being fifteen hundred men, was a great loss to\nthe Germans; and yet Prince Eugene did not offer to relieve it. And\nafter that we took several other posts which the imperialists had\npossession of, but were obliged to quit them upon the approach of the\nFrench army, not being in a condition to fight another battle that\nyear.\nMy campaign was now at an end, and though I came lame off, I came off\nmuch better than abundance of gentlemen; for in that bloody battle we\nhad above four hundred officers killed or wounded, whereof three were\ngeneral officers.\nThe campaign held on till December, and the Duke de Vend\u00f4me took Borgo\nFort and several other places from the Germans, who, in short, lost\nground every day in Italy. I was a prisoner a great while, and there\nbeing no cartel settled, Prince Eugene ordered the French prisoners to\nbe sent into Hungary, which was a cruelty that could not be reasonably\nexercised on them. However, a great many, by that banishment, found\nmeans to make their escape to the Turks, by whom they were kindly\nreceived, and the French ambassador at Constantinople took care of\nthem, and shipped them back again into Italy at the king\u2019s charge.\nBut the Duke de Vend\u00f4me now took so many German prisoners that Prince\nEugene was tired of sending his prisoners to Hungary, and was obliged\nto be at the charge of bringing some of them back again whom he had\nsent thither, and come to agree to a general exchange of prisoners.\nI was, as I have said, allowed for a time to go to Parma upon my\nparole, where I continued for the recovery of my wound and broken arm\nforty days, and was then obliged to render myself to the commanding\nofficer at Ferrara, where Prince Eugene coming soon after, I was, with\nseveral other prisoners of war, sent away into the Milanese, to be kept\nfor an exchange of prisoners.\nIt was in the city of Trent that I continued about eight months. The\nman in whose house I quartered was exceedingly civil to me, and took a\ngreat deal of care of me, and I lived very easy. Here I contracted a\nkind of familiarity, perfectly undesigned by me, with the daughter of\nthe burgher at whose house I had lodged, and, I know not by what\nfatality that was upon me, I was prevailed with afterwards to marry\nher. This was a piece of honesty on my side which I must acknowledge I\nnever intended to be guilty of; but the girl was too cunning for me,\nfor she found means to get some wine into my head more than I used to\ndrink, and though I was not so disordered with it but that I knew very\nwell what I did, yet in an unusual height of good humour I consented to\nbe married. This impolitic piece of honesty put me to many\ninconveniences, for I knew not what to do with this clog which I had\nloaded myself with. I could neither stay with her or take her with me,\nso that I was exceedingly perplexed.\nThe time came soon after that I was released by the cartel, and so was\nobliged to go to my regiment, which then was in quarters in the\nMilanese, and from thence I got leave to go to Paris, upon my promise\nto raise some recruits in England for the Irish regiments, by the help\nof my correspondence there. Having thus leave to go to Paris, I took a\npassport from the enemy\u2019s army to go to Trent, and making a long\ncircuit, I went back thither, and very honestly packed up my baggage,\nwife and all, and brought her away through Tyrol into Bavaria, and so\nthrough Suabia and the Black Forest into Alsatia; from thence I came\ninto Lorraine, and so to Paris.\nI had now a secret design to quit the war, for I really had had enough\nof fighting. But it was counted so dishonourable a thing to quit while\nthe army was in the field that I could not dispense with it; but an\nintervening accident made that part easy to me. The war was now renewed\nbetween France and England and Holland, just as it was before; and the\nFrench king, meditating nothing more than how to give the English a\ndiversion, fitted out a strong squadron of men-of-war and frigates at\nDunkirk, on board of which he embarked a body of troops of about six\nthousand five hundred men, besides volunteers; and the new king, as we\ncalled him, though more generally he was called the Chevalier de St.\nGeorge, was shipped along with them, and all for Scotland.\nI pretended a great deal of zeal for this service, and that if I might\nbe permitted to sell my company in the Irish regiment I was in, and\nhave the chevalier\u2019s brevet for a colonel, in case of raising troops\nfor him in Great Britain after his arrival, I would embark volunteer\nand serve at my own expense. The latter gave me a great advantage with\nthe chevalier; for now I was esteemed as a man of consideration, and\none that must have a considerable interest in my own country. So I\nobtained leave to sell my company, and having had a good round sum of\nmoney remitted me from London, by the way of Holland, I prepared a very\nhandsome equipage, and away I went to Dunkirk to embark.\nI was very well received by the chevalier; and as he had an account\nthat I was an officer in the Irish brigade, and had served in Italy,\nand consequently was an old soldier, all this added to the character\nwhich I had before, and made me have a great deal of honour paid me,\nthough at the same time I had no particular attachment to his person or\nto his cause. Nor indeed did I much consider the cause of one side or\nother. If I had, I should hardly have risked, not my life only, but\neffects too, which were all, as I might say, from that moment forfeited\nto the English government, and were too evidently in their power to\nconfiscate at their pleasure.\nHowever, having just received a remittance from London of \u00a3300\nsterling, and sold my company in the Irish regiment for very near as\nmuch, I was not only insensibly drawn in, but was perfectly volunteer\nin that dull cause, and away I went with them at all hazards. It\nbelongs very little to my history to give an account of that fruitless\nexpedition, only to tell you that, being so closely and effectually\nchased by the English fleet, which was superior in force to the French,\nI may say that, in escaping them, I escaped being hanged.\nIt was the good fortune of the French that they overshot the port they\naimed at, and intending for the Frith of Forth, or, as it is called,\nthe Frith of Edinburgh, the first land they made was as far north as a\nplace called Montrose, where it was not their business to land, and so\nthey were obliged to come back to the frith, and were gotten to the\nentrance of it, and came to an anchor for the tide. But this delay or\nhindrance gave time to the English, under Sir George Byng, to come to\nthe frith, and they came to an anchor, just as we did, only waiting to\ngo up the frith with the flood.\nHad we not overshot the port, as above, all our squadron had been\ndestroyed in two days, and all we could have done had been to have\ngotten into the pier or haven at Leith with the smaller frigates, and\nhave landed the troops and ammunition; but we must have set fire to the\nmen-of-war, for the English squadron was not above twenty-four hours\nbehind us, or thereabout.\nUpon this surprise, the French admiral set sail from the north point of\nthe frith where we lay, and crowding away to the north, got the start\nof the English fleet, and made their escape, with the loss of one ship\nonly, which, being behind the rest, could not get away.\nWhen we were satisfied the English left chasing us, which was not till\nthe third night, when we altered our course and lost sight of them, we\nstood over to the coast of Norway, and keeping that shore on board all\nthe way to the mouth of the Baltic, we came to an anchor again, and\nsent two scouts abroad to learn news, to see if the sea was clear; and\nbeing satisfied that the enemy did not chase us, we kept on with an\neasier sail, and came all back again to Dunkirk; and glad I was to set\nmy foot on shore again; for all the while we were thus flying for our\nlives I was under the greatest terror imaginable, and nothing but\nhalters and gibbets run in my head, concluding that, if I had been\ntaken, I should certainly have been hanged.\nBut the care was now over. I took my leave of the chevalier, and of the\narmy, and made haste to Paris. I came so unexpectedly to Paris, and to\nmy own lodgings, that it was my misfortune to make a discovery relating\nto my wife which was not at all to my satisfaction; for I found her\nladyship had kept some company that I had reason to believe were not\nsuch as an honest woman ought to have conversed with, and as I knew her\ntemper by what I had found of her myself, I grew very jealous and\nuneasy about her. I must own it touched me very nearly, for I began to\nhave an extraordinary value for her, and her behaviour was very taking,\nespecially after I had brought her into France; but having a vein of\nlevity, it was impossible to prevent her running into such things in a\ntown so full of what they call gallantry as Paris.\nIt vexed me also to think that it should be my fate to be a cuckold\nboth abroad and at home, and sometimes I would be in such a rage about\nit that I had no government of myself when I thought of it. Whole days,\nand I may say sometimes whole nights, I spent musing and considering\nwhat I should do to her, and especially what I should do to the\nvillain, whoever he was, that had thus abused and supplanted me. Here\nindeed I committed murder more than once, or indeed than a hundred\ntimes, in my imagination; and, as the devil is certainly an apparent\nprompter to wickedness, if he is not the first mover of it in our\nminds, he teased me night and day with proposals to kill my wife.\nThis horrid project he carried up so high, by raising fierce thoughts\nand fomenting the blood upon my contemplation of the word cuckold,\nthat, in short, I left debating whether I should murder her or no, as a\nthing out of the question, and determined; and my thoughts were then\ntaken up only with the management how I should kill her, and how to\nmake my escape after I had done it.\nAll this while I had no sufficient evidence of her guilt, neither had I\nso much as charged her with it or let her know I suspected her,\notherwise than as she might perceive it in my conduct, and in the\nchange of my behaviour to her, which was such that she could not but\nperceive that something troubled me. Yet she took no notice of it to\nme, but received me very well, and showed herself to be glad of my\nreturn. Nor did I find she had been extravagant in her expenses while I\nwas abroad. But jealousy, as the wise man says, is the wrath of a man;\nher being so good a hussy at what money I had left her gave my\ndistempered fancy an opinion that she had been maintained by other\npeople, and so had had no occasion to spend.\nI must confess she had a difficult point here upon her, though she had\nbeen really honest; for, as my head was prepossessed of her dishonesty,\nif she had been lavish I should have said she had spent it upon her\ngentlemen; and as she had been frugal, I said she had been maintained\nby them. Thus, I say, my head was distempered; I believed myself\nabused, and nothing could put it out of my thoughts night or day.\nAll this while it was not visibly broken out between us; but I was so\nfully possessed with the belief of it that I seemed to want no\nevidence, and I looked with an evil eye upon everybody that came near\nher or that she conversed with. There was an officer of the Guards du\nCorps that lodged in the same house with us, a very honest gentleman\nand a man of quality. I happened to be in a little drawing-room\nadjoining to a parlour where my wife sat at that time, and this\ngentleman came into the parlour, which, as he was one of the family, he\nmight have done without offence; but he, not knowing that I was in the\ndrawing-room, sat down and talked with my wife. I heard every word they\nsaid, for the door between us was open; nor could I say that there\npassed anything between them but cursory discourse. They talked of\ncasual things, of a young lady, a burgher\u2019s daughter of nineteen, that\nhad been married the week before to an advocate in the Parliament of\nParis, vastly rich, and about sixty-three; and of another, a widow lady\nof fortune in Paris, that had married her deceased husband\u2019s _valet de\nchamber_; and of such casual matters, that I could find no fault with\nher now at all.\nBut it filled my head with jealous thoughts and fired my temper. Now I\nfancied he used too much freedom with her, then that she used too much\nfreedom to him, and once or twice I was upon the point of breaking in\nupon them and affronting them both, but I restrained myself. At length\nhe talked some thing merrily of the lady throwing away her maiden head,\nas I understood it, upon an old man; but still it was nothing indecent.\nBut I, who was all on fire already, could bear it no longer, but\nstarted up and came into the room, and catching at my wife\u2019s words,\n\u201cSay you so, madam?\u201d said I. \u201cWas he too old for her?\u201d and giving the\nofficer a look that I fancy was something akin to the face on the sign\ncalled the Bull and Mouth, within Aldersgate, I went out into the\nstreet.\nThe marquis\u2014so he was styled\u2014a man of honour and of spirit too, took it\nas I meant it, and followed me in a moment and \u201chemmed\u201d after me in the\nstreet; upon which I stopped, and he came up to me. \u201cSir,\u201d said he,\n\u201cour circumstances are very unhappy in France, that we cannot do\nourselves justice here without the most severe treatment in the world.\nBut, come on it what will, you must explain yourself to me on the\nsubject of your behaviour just now.\u201d\nI was a little cooled as to the point of my conduct to him in the very\nfew moments that had passed, and was very sensible that I was wrong to\nhim; and I said, therefore, to him, very frankly, \u201cSir, you are a\ngentleman whom I know very well, and I have a very great respect for\nyou; but I had been disturbed a little about the conduct of my wife,\nand were it your own case, what would you have done less?\u201d\n\u201cI am sorry for any dislike between you and your wife,\u201d says he; \u201cbut\nwhat is that to me? Can you charge me with any indecency to her, except\nmy talking so and so?\u201d (at which he repeated the words); \u201cand as I knew\nyou were in the next room and heard every word, and that all the doors\nwere open, I thought no man could have taken amiss so innocent an\nexpression.\u201d\n\u201cI could no otherwise take it amiss,\u201d said I, \u201cthan as I thought it\nimplied a farther familiarity, and that you cannot expect should be\nborne by any man of honour. However, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cI spoke only to my\nwife. I said nothing to you, but gave you my hat as I passed you.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said he, \u201cand a look as full of rage as the devil. Are there no\nwords in such looks?\u201d\n\u201cI can say nothing to that,\u201d said I, \u201cfor I cannot see my own\ncountenance; but my rage, as you call it, was at my wife, not at you.\u201d\n\u201cBut hark you, sir,\u201d said he, growing warm as I grew calm, \u201cyour anger\nat your wife was for her discourse with me, and I think that concerns\nme too, and I ought to resent it.\u201d\n\u201cI think not, sir,\u201d said I; \u201cnor, had I found you in bed with my wife,\nwould I have quarrelled with you; for if my wife will let you lie with\nher, it is she is the offender. What have I to do with you? You could\nnot lie with her if she was not willing; and if she is willing to be a\nwhore, I ought to punish her; but I should have no quarrel with you. I\nwill lie with your wife if I can, and then I am even with you.\u201d\nI spoke this all in good humour and in order to pacify him, but it\nwould not do; but he would have me give him satisfaction, as he called\nit. I told him I was a stranger in the country, and perhaps should find\nlittle mercy in their course of justice; that it was not my business to\nfight any man in his vindicating his keeping company with my wife, for\nthat the injury was mine, in having a bad woman to deal with; that\nthere was no reason in the thing, that after any man should have found\nthe way into my bed, I, who am injured, should go and stake my life\nupon an equal hazard against the man who has abused me.\nNothing would prevail with this person to be quiet for all this; but I\nhad affronted him, and no satisfaction could be made him but that at\nthe point of the sword; so we agreed to go away together to Lisle, in\nFlanders. I was now soldier enough not to be afraid to look a man in\nthe face, and as the rage at my wife inspired me with courage, so he\nlet fall a word that fired and provoked me beyond all patience; for,\nspeaking of the distrust I had of my wife, he said, unless I had good\ninformation I ought not to suspect my wife. I told him, if I had good\ninformation, I should be past suspicion. He replied, if he was the\nhappy man, that had so much of her favour, he would take care then to\nput me past the suspicion. I gave him as rough an answer as he could\ndesire, and he returned in French, _\u201cNous verrons \u00e0 Lisle_;\u201d that is to\nsay, \u201cWe will talk further of it at Lisle.\u201d\nI told him I did not see the benefit either to him or me of going so\nfar as Lisle to decide this quarrel, since now I perceived he was the\nman I wanted; that we might decide this quarrel _au champ_, upon the\nspot, and whoever had the fortune to fall the other might make his\nescape to Lisle as well afterwards as before.\nThus we walked on talking very ill-naturedly on both sides, and yet\nvery mannerly, till we came clear of the suburbs of Paris, on the way\nto Charenton; when, seeing the way clear, I told him under those trees\nwas a very fit place for us, pointing to a row of trees adjoining to\nMonsieur \u2014\u2014\u2019s garden-wall. So we went thither, and fell to work\nimmediately. After some fencing he made a home-thrust at me, and run me\ninto my arm, a long slanting wound, but at the same time received my\npoint into his body, and soon after fell. He spoke some words before he\ndropped; first he told me I had killed him; then he said he had indeed\nwronged me, and as he knew it, he ought not to have fought me. He\ndesired I would make my escape immediately, which I did into the city,\nbut no farther, nobody, as I thought, having seen us together. In the\nafternoon, about six hours after the action, messengers brought news,\none on the heels of another, that the marquis was mortally wounded, and\ncarried into a house at Charenton. That account, saying he was not\ndead, surprised me a little, not doubting but that, concluding I had\nmade my escape, he would own who it was. However, I discovered nothing\nof my concern, but, going up into my chamber, I took out of a cabinet\nthere what money I had, which indeed was so much as I thought would be\nsufficient for my expenses. But having an accepted bill for two\nthousand livres, I walked sedately to a merchant who knew me, and got\nfifty pistoles of him upon my bill, letting him know my business called\nme to England, and I would take the rest of him when he had received\nit.\nHaving furnished myself thus, I provided me a horse for my servant, for\nI had one very good one of my own, and once more ventured home to my\nlodging, where I heard again that the marquis was not dead. My wife all\nthis while covered her concern for the marquis so well that she gave me\nno room to make any remark upon her; but she saw evidently the marks of\nrage and deep resentment in my behaviour after some little stay, and\nperceiving me making preparation for a journey, she said to me, \u201cAre\nyou going out of town?\u201d \u201cYes, madam,\u201d says I, \u201cthat you may have room\nto mourn for your friend the marquis;\u201d at which she started, and showed\nshe was indeed in a most terrible fright, and making a thousand crosses\nabout herself, with a great many callings upon the Blessed Virgin and\nher country saints, she burst out at last, \u201cIs it possible? Are you the\nman that has killed the marquis? Then you are undone, and I too.\u201d\n\u201cYou may, madam, be a loser by the marquis being killed; but I\u2019ll take\ncare to be as little a loser by you as I can. \u2019Tis enough; the marquis\nhas honestly confessed your guilt, and I have done with you.\u201d She would\nhave thrown herself into my arms, protesting her innocence, and told me\nshe would fly with me, and would convince me of her fidelity by such\ntestimonies as I could not but be satisfied with, but I thrust her\nviolently from me. \u201c_Allez, infame!_\u201d said I. \u201cGo, infamous creature,\nand take from me the necessity I should be under, if I stayed, of\nsending you to keep company with your dear friend the marquis.\u201d I\nthrust her away with such force that she fell backward upon the floor,\nand cried out most terribly, and indeed she had reason, for she was\nvery much hurt.\nIt grieved me indeed to have thrust her away with such force, but you\nmust consider me now in the circumstances of a man enraged, and, as it\nwere, out of himself, furious and mad. However, I took her up from the\nfloor and laid her on the bed, and calling up her maid, bid her go and\ntake care of her mistress; and, going soon after out of doors, I took\nhorse and made the best of my way, not towards Calais or Dunkirk, or\ntowards Flanders, whither it might be suggested I was fled, and whither\nthey did pursue me the same evening, but I took the direct road for\nLorraine, and riding all night and very hard, I passed the Maine the\nnext day at night, at Chalons, and came safe into the Duke of\nLorraine\u2019s dominions the third day, where I rested one day only to\nconsider what course to take; for it was still a most difficult thing\nto pass any way, but that I should either be in the king of France\u2019s\ndominions or be taken by the French allies as a subject of France. But\ngetting good advice from a priest at Bar le Duc, who, though I did not\ntell him the particulars of my case, yet guessed how it was, it being,\nas he said, very usual for gentlemen in my circumstances to fly that\nway;\u2014upon this supposition, this kind _padre_ got me a church pass;\nthat is to say, he made me a purveyor for the abbey of \u2014\u2014, and, as\nsuch, got me a passport to go to Deux Ponts, which belonged to the king\nof Sweden. Having such authority there, and the priest\u2019s recommendation\nto an ecclesiastic in the place, I got passports from thence in the\nking of Sweden\u2019s name to Cologne, and then I was thoroughly safe. So,\nmaking my way to the Netherlands without any difficulty, I came to the\nHague, and from thence, though very privately and by several names, I\ncame to England. And thus I got clear of my Italian wife\u2014whore I should\nhave called her; for, after I had made her so myself, how should I\nexpect any other of her?\nBeing arrived at London, I wrote to my friend at Paris, but dated my\nletters from the Hague, where I ordered him to direct his answers. The\nchief business of my writing was to know if my bill was paid him, to\ninquire if any pursuit was made after me, and what other news he had\nabout me or my wife, and particularly how it had fared with the\nmarquis.\nI received an answer in a few days, importing that he had received the\nmoney on my bill, which he was ready to pay as I should direct; that\nthe marquis was not dead; \u201cbut,\u201d said he, \u201cyou have killed him another\nway, for he has lost his commission in the Guards, which was worth to\nhim twenty thousand livres, and he is yet a close prisoner in the\nBastile;\u201d that pursuit was ordered after me upon suspicion; that they\nhad followed me to Amiens, on the road to Dunkirk, and to Chastean de\nCambresis, on the way to Flanders, but missing me that way, had given\nit over; that the marquis had been too well instructed to own that he\nhad fought with me, but said that he was assaulted on the road, and\nunless I could be taken, he would take his trial and come off for want\nof proof; that my flying was a circumstance indeed that moved strongly\nagainst him, because it was known that we had had some words that day,\nand were seen to walk together, but that, nothing being proved on\neither side, he would come off with the loss of his commission, which,\nhowever, being very rich, he could bear well enough.\nAs to my wife, he wrote me word she was inconsolable, and had cried\nherself to death almost; but he added (very ill-natured indeed),\nwhether it was for me or for the marquis, that he could not determine.\nHe likewise told me she was in very bad circumstances and very low, so\nthat, if I did not take some care of her, she would come to be in very\ngreat distress.\nThe latter part of this story moved me indeed, for I thought, however\nit was, I ought not to let her starve; and, besides, poverty was a\ntemptation which a woman could not easily withstand, and I ought not to\nbe the instrument to drive her to a horrid necessity of crime, if I\ncould prevent it.\nUpon this I wrote to him again to go to her, and talk with her, and\nlearn as much as he could of her particular circumstances; and that, if\nhe found she was really in want, and, particularly, that she did not\nlive a scandalous life, he should give her twenty pistoles, and tell\nher, if she would engage to live retired and honestly, she should have\nso much annually, which was enough to subsist her.\nShe took the first twenty pistoles, but bade him tell me that I had\nwronged her and unjustly charged her, and I ought to do her justice;\nand I had ruined her by exposing her in such a manner as I had, having\nno proof of my charge or ground for any suspicion; that, as to twenty\npistoles a year, it was a mean allowance to a wife that had travelled\nover the world, as she had done with me, and the like; and so\nexpostulated with him to obtain forty pistoles a year of me, which I\nconsented to. But she never gave me the trouble of paying above one\nyear; for after that the marquis was so fond of her again that he took\nher away to himself, and, as my friend wrote me word, had settled four\nhundred crowns a year on her, and I never heard any more of her.\nI was now in London, but was obliged to be very retired and change my\nname, letting nobody in the nation know who I was, except my merchant\nby whom I corresponded with my people in Virginia; and particularly\nwith my tutor, who was now become the head manager of my affairs, and\nwas in very good circumstances himself also by my means. But he\ndeserved all I did or could do for him, for he was a most faithful\nfriend as well as servant, as ever man had, in that country at least.\nI was not the easiest man alive, in the retired, solitary manner I now\nlived in; and I experienced the truth of the text, that \u201cit is not good\nfor man to be alone,\u201d for I was extremely melancholy and heavy, and\nindeed knew not what to do with myself, particularly because I was\nunder some restraint, that I was too afraid to go abroad. At last I\nresolved to go quite away, and go to Virginia again, and there live\nretired as I could.\nBut when I came to consider that part more narrowly, I could not\nprevail with myself to live a private life. I had got a wandering kind\nof taste, and knowledge of things begat a desire of increasing it, and\nan exceeding delight I had in it, though I had nothing to do in the\narmies or in war, and did not design ever to meddle with it again. Yet\nI could not live in the world and not inquire what was doing in it; nor\ncould I think of living in Virginia, where I was to hear my news twice\na year, and read the public accounts of what was just then upon the\nstocks, as the history of things past.\nThis was my notion: I was now in my native country, where my\ncircumstances were easy, and though I had ill-luck abroad, for I\nbrought little money home with me, yet, by a little good management, I\nmight soon have money by me. I had nobody to keep but myself, and my\nplantations in Virginia generally returned me from \u00a3400 to \u00a3600 a year,\none year above \u00a3700, and to go thither, I concluded, was to be buried\nalive; so I put off all thoughts of it, and resolved to settle\nsomewhere in England where I might know everybody and nobody know me. I\nwas not long in concluding where to pitch, for as I spoke the French\ntongue perfectly well, having been so many years among them, it was\neasy for me to pass for a Frenchman. So I went to Canterbury, called\nmyself an Englishman among the French, and a Frenchman among the\nEnglish; and on that score was the more perfectly concealed, going by\nthe name of Monsieur Charnot with the French, and was called Mr.\nCharnock among the English.\nHere indeed I lived perfectly incog. I made no particular acquaintance\nso as to be intimate, and yet I knew everybody, and everybody knew me.\nI discoursed in common, talked French with the Walloons, and English\nwith the English; and lived retired and sober, and was well enough\nreceived by all sorts; but as I meddled with nobody\u2019s business, so\nnobody meddled with mine; I thought I lived pretty well.\nBut I was not fully satisfied. A settled family life was the thing I\nloved; had made two pushes at it, as you have heard, but with\nill-success; yet the miscarriage of what was past did not discourage me\nat all, but I resolved to marry. I looked out for a woman as suitable\nas I could, but always found some thing or other to shock my fancy,\nexcept once a gentleman\u2019s daughter of good fashion; but I met with so\nmany repulses of one kind or another that I was forced to give it over;\nand indeed, though I might be said to be a lover in this suit, and had\nmanaged myself so well with the young lady that I had no difficulty\nleft but what would soon have been adjusted, yet her father was so\ndifficult, made so many objections, was to-day not pleased one way,\nto-morrow another, that he would stand by nothing that he himself had\nproposed, nor could he be ever brought to be of the same mind two days\ntogether; so that we at last put an end to the pretensions, for she\nwould not marry without her father\u2019s consent, and I would not steal\nher, and so that affair ended.\nI cannot say but I was a little vexed at the disappointment of this, so\nI left the city of Canterbury and went to London in the stage-coach.\nHere I had an odd scene presented as ever happened of its kind.\nThere was in the stage-coach a young woman and her maid. She was\nsitting in a very melancholy posture, for she was in the coach before\nme, and sighed most dreadfully all the way, and whenever her maid spoke\nto her she burst out into tears. I was not long in the coach with her\nbut, seeing she made such a dismal figure, I offered to comfort her a\nlittle, and inquired into the occasion of her affliction. But she would\nnot speak a word; but her maid, with a force of crying too, said her\nmaster was dead, at which word the lady burst out again into a passion\nof crying, and between mistress and maid this was all I could get for\nthe morning part of that day. When we came to dine, I offered the lady,\nthat seeing, I supposed, she would not dine with the company, if she\nwould please to dine with me, I would dine in a separate room; for the\nrest of the company were foreigners. Her maid thanked me in her\nmistresses name, but her mistress could eat nothing, and desired to be\nprivate.\nHere, however, I had some discourse with the maid, from whom I learned\nthat the lady was wife to a captain of a ship, who was outward bound to\nsomewhere in the Straits\u2014I think it was to Zante and Venice; that,\nbeing gone no farther than the Downs, he was taken sick, and after\nabout ten days\u2019 illness had died at Deal; that his wife, hearing of his\nsickness, had gone to Deal to see him, and had come but just time\nenough to see him die; had stayed there to bury him, and was now coming\nto London in a sad, disconsolate condition indeed.\nI heartily pitied the young gentlewoman indeed, and said some things to\nher in the coach to let her know I did so, which she gave no answer to,\nbut in civility now and then made a bow, but never gave me the least\nopportunity to see her face, or so much as to know whether she had a\nface or no, much less to guess what form of a face it was. It was\nwinter time, and the coach put up at Rochester, not going through in a\nday, as was usual in summer; and a little before we came to Rochester I\ntold the lady I understood she had ate nothing to-day, that such a\ncourse would but make her sick, and, doing her harm, could do her\ndeceased husband no good; and therefore I entreated her that, as I was\na stranger, and only offered a civility to her in order to abate her\nseverely afflicting herself, she would yield so far to matters of\nceremony as let us sup together as passengers; for, as to the\nstrangers, they did not seem to understand the custom or to desire it.\nShe bowed, but gave no answer; only, after pressing her by arguments,\nwhich she could not deny was very civil and kind, she returned, she\ngave me thanks, but she could not eat. \u201cWell, madam,\u201d said I, \u201cdo but\nsit down; though you think you cannot eat, perhaps you may eat a bit.\nIndeed you must eat, or you will destroy yourself at this rate of\nliving, and upon the road too; in a word, you will be sick indeed.\u201d I\nargued with her. The maid put in, and said, \u201cDo, madam; pray try to\ndivert yourself a little.\u201d I pressed her again, and she bowed to me\nvery respectfully, but still said, \u201cNo,\u201d and she could not eat. The\nmaid continued to importune her, and said, \u201cDear madam, do. The\ngentleman is a civil gentleman; pray, madam, do;\u201d and then, turning to\nme, said, \u201cMy mistress will, sir, I hope,\u201d and seemed pleased, and\nindeed was so.\nHowever, I went on to persuade her; and, taking no notice of what her\nmaid said, that I was a civil gentleman, I told her, \u201cI am a stranger\nto you, madam; but if I thought you were shy of me on any account, as\nto civility, I will send my supper up to you in your own chamber, and\nstay below myself.\u201d She bowed then to me twice, and looked up, which\nwas the first time, and said she had no suspicion of that kind; that my\noffer was so civil that she was as much ashamed to refuse it as she\nshould be ashamed to accept it, if she was where she was known; that\nshe thought I was not quite a stranger to her, for she had seen me\nbefore; that she would accept my offer so far as to sit at table,\nbecause I desired it; but she could not promise me to eat, and that she\nhoped I would take the other as a constraint upon her, in return to so\nmuch kindness.\nShe startled me when she said she had seen me before; for I had not the\nleast knowledge of her, nor did I remember so much as to have heard of\nher name; for I had asked her name of her maid; and indeed it made me\nalmost repent my compliment, for it was many ways essential to me not\nto be known. However, I could not go back; and, besides, if I was\nknown, it was essentially necessary to me to know who it was that knew\nme, and by what circumstances; so I went on with my compliment.\nWe came to the inn but just before it was dark. I offered to hand my\nwidow out of the coach, and she could not decline it; but though her\nhoods were not then much over her face, yet, being dark, I could see\nlittle of her then. I waited on her then into the stairfoot, and led\nher up the inn-stairs to a dining-room which the master of the house\noffered to show us, as if for the whole company; but she declined going\nin there, and said she desired rather to go directly to her chamber,\nand turning to her maid, bade her speak to the innkeeper to show her to\nher lodging-room. So I waited on her to the door, and took my leave,\ntelling her I would expect her at supper.\nIn order to treat her moderately well, and not extravagantly, for I had\nno thoughts of anything farther than civility, which was the effect of\nmere compassion for the unhappiness of the most truly disconsolate\nwoman that I ever met with; I say, in order to treat her handsomely,\nbut not extravagantly, I provided what the house afforded, which was a\ncouple of partridges and a very good dish of stewed oysters. They\nbrought us up afterwards a neat\u2019s tongue and a ham that was almost cut\nquite down, but we ate none of it; for the other was fully enough for\nus both, and the maid made her supper off the oysters we had left,\nwhich were enough.\nI mention this because it should appear I did not treat her as a person\nI was making any court to, for I had nothing of that in my thoughts;\nbut merely in pity to the poor woman, who I saw in a circumstance that\nwas indeed very unhappy.\nWhen I gave her maid notice that supper was ready, she fetched her\nmistress, coming in before her with a candle in her hand, and then it\nwas that I saw her face, and being in her dishabille, she had no hood\nover her eyes or black upon her head, when I was truly surprised to see\none of the most beautiful faces upon earth. I saluted her, and led her\nto the fireside, the table, though spread, being too far from the fire,\nthe weather being cold.\nShe was now something sociable, though very grave, and sighed often on\naccount of her circumstances. But she so handsomely governed her grief,\nyet so artfully made it mingle itself with all her discourse, that it\nadded exceedingly to her behaviour, which was every way most\nexquisitely genteel. I had a great deal of discourse with her, and upon\nmany subjects, and by degrees took her name, that is to say, from\nherself, as I had done before from her maid; also the place where she\nlived, viz., near Ratcliff, or rather Stepney, where I asked her leave\nto pay her a visit when she thought fit to admit company, which she\nseemed to intimate would not be a great while.\nIt is a subject too surfeiting to entertain people with the beauty of a\nperson they will never see. Let it suffice to tell them she was the\nmost beautiful creature of her sex that I ever saw before or since; and\nit cannot be wondered if I was charmed with her the very first moment I\nsaw her face. Her behaviour was likewise a beauty in itself, and was so\nextraordinary that I cannot say I can describe it.\nThe next day she was much more free than she was the first night, and I\nhad so much conversation as to enter into particulars of things on both\nsides; also she gave me leave to come and see her house, which,\nhowever, I did not do under a fortnight or thereabouts, because I did\nnot know how far she would dispense with the ceremony which it was\nnecessary to keep up at the beginning of the mourning.\nHowever, I came as a man that had business with her, relating to the\nship her husband was dead out of, and the first time I came was\nadmitted; and, in short, the first time I came I made love to her. She\nreceived that proposal with disdain. I cannot indeed say she treated me\nwith any disrespect, but she said she abhorred the offer, and would\nhear no more of it. How I came to make such a proposal to her I scarce\nknew then, though it was very much my intention from the first.\nIn the meantime I inquired into her circumstances and her character,\nand heard nothing but what was very agreeable of them both; and, above\nall, I found she had the report of the best-humoured lady and the\nbest-bred of all that part of the town; and now I thought I had found\nwhat I had so often wished for to make me happy and had twice\nmiscarried in, and resolved not to miss her, if it was possible to\nobtain her.\nIt came indeed a little into my thoughts that I was a married man, and\nhad a second wife alive, who, though she was false to me and a whore,\nyet I was not legally divorced from her, and that she was my wife for\nall that. But I soon got over that part; for, first, as she was a\nwhore, and the marquis had confessed it to me, I was divorced in law,\nand I had a power to put her away. But having had the misfortune of\nfighting a duel, and being obliged to quit the country, I could not\nclaim the legal process which was my right, and therefore might\nconclude myself as much divorced as if it had been actually done, and\nso that scruple vanished.\nI suffered now two months to run without pressing my widow any more,\nonly I kept a strict watch to find if any one else pretended to her. At\nthe end of two months I visited her again, when I found she received me\nwith more freedom, and we had no more sighs and sobs about the last\nhusband; and though she would not let me press my former proposal so\nfar as I thought I might have done, yet I found I had leave to come\nagain, and it was the article of decency which she stood upon as much\nas anything; that I was not disagreeable to her, and that my using her\nso handsomely upon the road had given me a great advantage in her\nfavour.\nI went on gradually with her, and gave her leave to stand off for two\nmonths more. But then I told her the matter of decency, which was but a\nceremony, was not to stand in competition with the matter of affection;\nand, in short, I could not bear any longer delay, but that, if she\nthought fit, we might marry privately; and, to cut the story short, as\nI did my courtship, in about five months I got her in the mind, and we\nwere privately married, and that with so very exact a concealment that\nher maid, that was so instrumental in it, yet had no knowledge of it\nfor near a month more.\nI was now, not only in my imagination, but in reality, the most happy\ncreature in the world, as I was so infinitely satisfied with my wife,\nwho was indeed the best-humoured woman in the world, a most\naccomplished, beautiful creature indeed, perfectly well-bred, and had\nnot one ill quality about her; and this happiness continued without the\nleast interruption for about six years.\nBut I, that was to be the most unhappy fellow alive in the article of\nmatrimony, had at last a disappointment of the worst sort even here. I\nhad three fine children by her, and in her time of lying-in with the\nlast she got some cold, that she did not in a long time get off; and,\nin short, she grew very sickly. In being so continually ill and out of\norder, she very unhappily got a habit of drinking cordials and hot\nliquors. Drink, like the devil, when it gets hold of any one, though\nbut a little, it goes on by little and little to their destruction. So\nin my wife, her stomach being weak and faint, she first took this\ncordial, then that, till, in short, she could not live without them,\nand from a drop to a sup, from a sup to a dram, from a dram to a glass,\nand so on to two, till at last she took, in short, to what we call\ndrinking.\nAs I likened drink to the devil, in its gradual possession of the\nhabits and person, so it is yet more like the devil in its encroachment\non us, where it gets hold of our senses. In short, my beautiful,\ngood-humoured, modest, well-bred wife grew a beast, a slave to strong\nliquor, and would be drunk at her own table\u2014nay, in her own closet by\nherself, till, instead of a well-made, fine shape, she was as fat as a\nhostess; her fine face, bloated and blotched, had not so much as the\nruins of the most beautiful person alive\u2014nothing remained but a good\neye; that indeed she held to the last. In short, she lost her beauty,\nher shape, her manners, and at last her virtue; and, giving herself up\nto drinking, killed herself in about a year and a half after she first\nbegan that cursed trade, in which time she twice was exposed in the\nmost scandalous manner with a captain of a ship, who, like a villain,\ntook the advantage of her being in drink and not knowing what she did.\nBut it had this unhappy effect, that instead of her being ashamed and\nrepenting of it when she came to herself, it hardened her in the crime,\nand she grew as void of modesty at last as of sobriety.\nOh, the power of intemperance! and how it encroaches on the best\ndispositions in the world; how it comes upon us gradually and\ninsensibly; and what dismal effects it works upon our morals, changing\nthe most virtuous, regular, well-instructed, and well-inclined tempers\ninto worse than brutal! That was a good story, whether real or\ninvented, of the devil tempting a young man to murder his father. No,\nhe said; that was unnatural. \u201cWhy, then,\u201d says the devil, \u201cgo and lie\nwith your mother.\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d says he; \u201cthat is abominable.\u201d \u201cWell, then,\u201d\nsays the devil, \u201cif you will do nothing else to oblige me, go and get\ndrunk.\u201d \u201cAy, ay,\u201d says the fellow, \u201cI will do that.\u201d So he went and\nmade himself drunk as a swine, and when he was drunk, he murdered his\nfather and lay with his mother.\nNever was a woman more virtuous, modest, chaste, sober; she never so\nmuch as desired to drink any thing strong; it was with the greatest\nentreaty that I could prevail with her to drink a glass or two of wine,\nand rarely, if ever, above one or two at a time; even in company she\nhad no inclination to it. Not an immodest word ever came out of her\nmouth, nor would she suffer it in any one else in her hearing without\nresentment and abhorrence. But upon that weakness and illness after her\nlast lying-in, as above, the nurse pressed her, whenever she found\nherself faint and a sinking of her spirits, to take this cordial and\nthat dram, to keep up her spirits, till it became necessary even to\nkeep her alive, and gradually increased to a habit, so that it was no\nlonger her physic but her food. Her appetite sunk and went quite away,\nand she ate little or nothing, but came at last to such a dreadful\nheight that, as I have said, she would be drunk in her own\ndressing-room by eleven o\u2019clock in the morning, and, in short, at last\nwas never sober.\nIn this life of hellish excess, as I have said, she lost all that was\nbefore so valuable in her, and a villain, if it be proper to call a man\nwho was really a gentleman by such a name, who was an intimate\nacquaintance, coming to pretend a visit to her, made her and her maid\nso drunk together that he lay with them both; with the mistress, the\nmaid being in the room, and with the maid, the mistress being in the\nroom; after which he, it seems, took the like liberty with them both as\noften as he thought fit, till the wench, being with child, discovered\nit for herself, and for her mistress too. Let any one judge what was my\ncase now. I, that for six years thought myself the happiest man alive,\nwas now the most miserable, distracted creature. As to my wife, I loved\nher so well, and was so sensible of the disaster of her drinking being\nthe occasion of it all, that I could not resent it to such a degree as\nI had done in her predecessor; but I pitied her heartily. However, I\nput away all her servants, and almost locked her up; that is to say, I\nset new people over her, who would not suffer any one to come near her\nwithout my knowledge.\nBut what to do with the villain that had thus abused both her and me,\nthat was the question that remained. To fight him upon equal terms, I\nthought, was a little hard; that after a man had treated me as he had\ndone, he deserved no fair play for his life. So I resolved to wait for\nhim in Stepney fields, and which way he often came home pretty late,\nand pistol him in the dark, and, if possible, to let him know what I\nkilled him for before I did it. But when I came to consider of this, it\nshocked my temper too as well as principle, and I could not be a\nmurderer, whatever else I could be, or whatever I was provoked to be.\nHowever, I resolved, on the other hand, that I would severely correct\nhim for what he had done, and it was not long before I had an\nopportunity; for, hearing one morning that he was walking across the\nfields from Stepney to Shadwell, which way I knew he often went, I\nwaited for his coming home again, and fairly met him.\nI had not many words with him, but told him I had long looked for him;\nthat he knew the villainy he had been guilty of in my family, and he\ncould not believe, since he knew also that I was fully informed of it,\nbut that I must be a great coward, as well as a cuckold, or that I\nwould resent it, and that it was now a very proper time to call him to\nan account for it; and therefore bade him, if he durst show his face to\nwhat he had done, and defend the name of a captain of a man-of-war, as\nthey said he had been, to draw.\nHe seemed surprised at the thing, and began to parley, and would lessen\nthe crime of it; but I told him it was not a time to talk that way,\nsince he could not deny the fact; and to lessen the crime was to lay it\nthe more upon the woman, who, I was sure, if he had not first debauched\nwith wine, he could never have brought to the rest; and, seeing he\nrefused to draw, I knocked him down with my cane at one blow, and I\nwould not strike him again while he lay on the ground, but waited to\nsee him recover a little; for I saw plainly he was not killed. In a few\nminutes he came to himself again, and then I took him fast by one\nwrist, and caned him as severely as I was able, and as long as I could\nhold it for want of breath, but forbore his head, because I was\nresolved he should feel it. In this condition at last he begged for\nmercy, but I was deaf to all pity a great while, till he roared out\nlike a boy soundly whipped. Then I took his sword from him and broke it\nbefore his face, and left him on the ground, giving him two or three\nkicks on the backside, and bade him go and take the law of me if he\nthought fit.\nI had now as much satisfaction as indeed could be taken of a coward,\nand had no more to say to him; but as I knew it would make a great\nnoise about the town, I immediately removed my family, and, that I\nmight be perfectly concealed, went into the north of England, and lived\nin a little town called \u2014\u2014, not far from Lancaster, where I lived\nretired, and was no more heard of for about two years. My wife, though\nmore confined than she used to be, and so kept up from the lewd part\nwhich, I believe, in the intervals of her intemperance, she was truly\nashamed of and abhorred, yet retained the drinking part, which\nbecoming, as I have said, necessary for her subsistence, she soon\nruined her health, and in about a year and a half after my removal into\nthe north she died.\nThus I was once more a free man, and, as one would think, should by\nthis time have been fully satisfied that matrimony was not appointed to\nbe a state of felicity to me.\nI should have mentioned that the villain of a captain who I had\ndrubbed, as above, pretended to make a great stir about my assaulting\nhim on the highway, and that I had fallen upon him with three ruffians,\nwith an intent to murder him; and this began to obtain belief among the\npeople in the neighbourhood. I sent him word of so much of it as I had\nheard, and told him I hoped it did not come from his own mouth; but if\nit did, I expected he would publicly disown it, he himself declaring he\nknew it to be false, or else I should be forced to act the same thing\nover again, till I had disciplined him into better manners; and that he\nmight be assured that if he continued to pretend that I had anybody\nwith me when I caned him, I would publish the whole story in print,\nand, besides that, would cane him again wherever I met him, and as\noften as I met him, till he thought fit to defend himself with his\nsword like a gentleman.\nHe gave me no answer to this letter; and the satisfaction I had for\nthat was, that I gave twenty or thirty copies of it about among the\nneighbours, which made it as public as if I had printed it (that is, as\nto his acquaintance and mine), and made him so hissed at and hated that\nhe was obliged to remove into some other part of the town\u2014whither I did\nnot inquire.\nMy wife being now dead, I knew not what course to take in the world,\nand I grew so disconsolate and discouraged that I was next door to\nbeing distempered, and sometimes, indeed, I thought myself a little\ntouched in my head. But it proved nothing but vapours and the vexation\nof this affair, and in about a year\u2019s time, or thereabouts, it wore off\nagain.\nI had rambled up and down in a most discontented, unsettled posture\nafter this, I say, about a year, and then I considered I had three\ninnocent children, and I could take no care of them, and that I must\neither go away and leave them to the wide world or settle here and get\nsomebody to look after them, and that better a mother-in-law than no\nmother; for to live such a wandering life it would not do; so I\nresolved I would marry as anything offered, though it was mean, and the\nmeaner the better. I concluded my next wife should be only taken as an\nupper servant; that is to say, a nurse to my children and housekeeper\nto myself; \u201cand let her be whore or honest woman,\u201d said I, \u201cas she\nlikes best; I am resolved I will not much concern myself about that;\u201d\nfor I was now one desperate, that valued not how things went.\nIn this careless, and indeed rash, foolish humour, I talked to myself\nthus: \u201cIf I marry an honest woman, my children will be taken care of;\nif she be a slut and abuses me, as I see everybody does, I will kidnap\nher and send her to Virginia, to my plantations there, and there she\nshall work hard enough and fare hard enough to keep her chaste, I\u2019ll\nwarrant her.\u201d\nI knew well enough at first that these were mad, hare-brained notions,\nand I thought no more of being serious in them than I thought of being\na man in the moon; but I know not how it happened to me, I reasoned and\ntalked to myself in this wild manner so long that I brought myself to\nbe seriously desperate; that is, to resolve upon another marriage, with\nall the suppositions of unhappiness that could be imagined to fall out.\nAnd yet even this rash resolution of my senses did not come presently\nto action; for I was half a year after this before I fixed upon\nanything. At last, as he that seeks mischief shall certainly find it,\nso it was with me. There happened to be a young, or rather a\nmiddle-aged, woman in the next town, which was but a half-mile off, who\nusually was at my house and among my children every day when the\nweather was tolerable; and though she came but merely as a neighbour,\nand to see us, yet she was always helpful in directing and ordering\nthings for them, and mighty handy about them, as well before my wife\ndied as after.\nHer father was one that I employed often to go to Liverpool, and\nsometimes to Whitehaven, and do business for me; for having, as it\nwere, settled myself in the northern parts of England, I had ordered\npart of my effects to be shipped, as occasion of shipping offered, to\neither of those two towns, to which, the war continuing very sharp, it\nwas safer coming, as to privateers, than about through the Channel to\nLondon.\nI took a mighty fancy at last that this girl would answer my end,\nparticularly that I saw she was mighty useful among the children; so,\non the other hand, the children loved her very well, and I resolved to\nlove her too, flattering myself mightily, that as I had married two\ngentlewomen and one citizen, and they proved all three whores, I should\nnow find what I wanted in an innocent country wench.\nI took up a world of time in considering of this matter; indeed scarce\nany of my matches were done without very mature consideration. The\nsecond was the worst in that article, but in this I thought of it, I\nbelieve, four months most seriously before I resolved, and that very\nprudence spoiled the whole thing. However, at last being resolved, I\ntook Mrs. Margaret one day as she passed by my parlour-door, called her\nin, and told her I wanted to speak with her. She came readily in, but\nblushed mightily when I bade her sit down in a chair just by me.\nI used no great ceremony with her, but told her that I had observed she\nhad been mighty kind to my children, and was very tender to them, and\nthat they all loved her, and that, if she and I could agree about it, I\nintended to make her their mother, if she was not engaged to somebody\nelse. The girl sat still and said never a word till I said those words,\n\u201cif she was not engaged to somebody else;\u201d when she seemed struck.\nHowever, I took no notice of it, other than this, \u201cLook ye, Moggy,\u201d\nsaid I (so they call them in the country), \u201cif you have promised\nyourself, you must tell me.\u201d For we all knew that a young fellow, a\ngood clergyman\u2019s wicked son, had hung about her a great while, two or\nthree years, and made love to her, but could never get the girl in the\nmind, it seems, to have him.\nShe knew I was not ignorant of it, and therefore, after her first\nsurprise was over, she told me Mr. \u2014\u2014 had, as I knew, often come after\nher, but she had never promised him anything, and had for several years\nrefused him; her father always telling her that he was a wicked fellow,\nand that he would be her ruin if she had him.\n\u201cWell, Moggy, then,\u201d says I, \u201cwhat dost say to me? Art thou free to\nmake me a wife?\u201d She blushed and looked down upon the ground, and would\nnot speak a good while; but when I pressed her to tell me, she looked\nup, and said she supposed I was but jesting with her. Well, I got over\nthat, and told her I was in very good earnest with her, and I took her\nfor a sober, honest, modest girl, and, as I said, one that my children\nloved mighty well, and I was in earnest with her; if she would give me\nher consent, I would give her my word that I would have her, and we\nwould be married to-morrow morning. She looked up again at that, and\nsmiled a little, and said no, that was too soon too to say yes. She\nhoped I would give her some time to consider of it, and to talk with\nher father about it.\nI told her she needed not much time to consider about it; but, however,\nI would give her till to-morrow morning, which was a great while. By\nthis time I had kissed Moggy two or three times, and she began to be\nfreer with me; and when I pressed her to marry me the next morning, she\nlaughed, and told me it was not lucky to be married in her old clothes.\nI stopped her mouth presently with that, and told her she should not be\nmarried in her old clothes, for I would give her some new. \u201cAy, it may\nbe afterwards,\u201d says Moggy, and laughed again. \u201cNo, just now,\u201d says I.\n\u201cCome along with me, Moggy;\u201d so I carried her upstairs into my wife\u2019s\nroom that was, and showed her a new morning-gown of my wife\u2019s, that she\nhad never worn above two or three times, and several other fine things.\n\u201cLook you there, Moggy,\u201d says I, \u201cthere is a wedding-gown for you; give\nme your hand now that you will have me to-morrow morning. And as to\nyour father, you know he has gone to Liverpool on my business, but I\nwill answer for it he shall not be angry when he comes home to call his\nmaster son-in-law; and I ask him no portion. Therefore give me thy hand\nfor it, Moggy,\u201d says I very merrily to her, and kissed her again; and\nthe girl gave me her hand, and very pleasantly too, and I was mightily\npleased with it, I assure you.\nThere lived about three doors from us an ancient gentleman who passed\nfor a doctor of physic, but who was really a Romish priest in orders,\nas there are many in that part of the country; and in the evening I\nsent to speak with him. He knew that I understood his profession, and\nthat I had lived in popish countries, and, in a word, believed me a\nRoman too, for I was such abroad. When he came to me I told him the\noccasion for which I sent for him, and that it was to be to-morrow\nmorning. He readily told me, if I would come and see him in the\nevening, and bring Moggy with me, he would marry us in his own study,\nand that it was rather more private to do it in the evening than in the\nmorning. So I called Moggy again to me, and told her, since she and I\nhad agreed the matter for to-morrow, it was as well to be done\novernight, and told her what the doctor had said.\nMoggy blushed again, and said she must go home first, that she could\nnot be ready before to-morrow. \u201cLook ye, Moggy,\u201d says I, \u201cyou are my\nwife now, and you shall never go away from me a maid. I know what you\nmean; you would go home to shift you. Come, Moggy,\u201d says I, \u201ccome along\nwith me again upstairs.\u201d So I carried her to a chest of linen, where\nwere several new shifts of my last wife\u2019s, which she had never worn at\nall, and some that had been worn.\n\u201cThere is a clean smock for you, Moggy,\u201d says I, \u201cand to-morrow you\nshall have all the rest.\u201d When I had done this, \u201cNow, Moggy,\u201d says I,\n\u201cgo and dress you;\u201d so I locked her in, and went downstairs. \u201cKnock,\u201d\nsays I, \u201cwhen you are dressed.\u201d\nAfter some time Moggy did not knock, but down she came into my room,\ncompletely dressed, for there were several other things that I bade her\ntake, and the clothes fitted her as if they had been made for her. It\nseems she slipped the lock back.\n\u201cWell, Moggy,\u201d says I, \u201cnow you see you shan\u2019t be married in your old\nclothes;\u201d so I took her in my arms and kissed her; and well pleased I\nwas as ever I was in my life, or with anything I ever did in my life.\nAs soon as it was dark Moggy slipped away beforehand, as the doctor and\nI had agreed, to the old gentleman\u2019s housekeeper, and I came in about\nhalf-an-hour after; and there we were married in the doctor\u2019s\nstudy\u2014that is to say, in his oratory or chapel, a little room within\nhis study\u2014and we stayed and supped with him afterwards.\nThen, after a short stay more, I went home first, because I would send\nthe children all to bed, and the other servants out of the way; and\nMoggy came some time after, and so we lay together that night. The next\nmorning I let all the family know that Moggy was my wife, and my three\nchildren were rejoiced at it to the last degree. And now I was a\nmarried man a fourth time; and, in short, I was really more happy in\nthis plain country girl than with any of all the wives I had had. She\nwas not young, being about thirty-three, but she brought me a son the\nfirst year. She was very pretty, well-shaped, and of a merry, cheerful\ndisposition, but not a beauty. She was an admirable family manager,\nloved my former children, and used them not at all the worse for having\nsome of her own. In a word, she made me an excellent wife, but lived\nwith me but four years, and died of a hurt she got of a fall while she\nwas with child, and in her I had a very great loss indeed.\nAnd yet such was my fate in wives, that, after all the blushing and\nbackwardness of Mrs. Moggy at first, Mrs. Moggy had, it seems, made a\nslip in her younger days, and was got with child ten years before, by a\ngentleman of a great estate in that country, who promised her marriage,\nand afterwards deserted her. But as that had happened long before I\ncame into the country, and the child was dead and forgotten, the people\nwere so good to her, and so kind to me, that, hearing I had married\nher, nobody ever spoke of it; neither did I ever hear of it or suspect\nit till after she was in her grave, and then it was of small\nconsequence to me one way or other; and she was a faithful, virtuous,\nobliging wife to me. I had very severe affliction indeed while she\nlived with me; for the smallpox, a frightful distemper in that country,\nbroke into my family, and carried off three of my children and a\nmaid-servant; so that I had only one of my former wife\u2019s, and one by my\nMoggy, the first a son, the last a daughter.\nWhile these things were in agitation came on the invasion of the Scots\nand the fight at Preston; and I have cause to bless the memory of my\nMoggy; for I was all on fire on that side, and just going away with\nhorse and arms to join the Lord Derwentwater. But Moggy begged me off\n(as I may call it), and hung about me so with her tears and\nimportunities that I sat still and looked on; for which I had reason to\nbe thankful.\nI was really a sorrowful father, and the loss of my children stuck\nclose to me; but the loss of my wife stuck closer to me than all the\nrest. Nor was my grief lessened or my kindest thoughts abated in the\nleast by the account I heard of her former miscarriages, seeing they\nwere so long before I knew her, and were not discovered by me or to me\nin her lifetime.\nAll these things put together made me very comfortless. And now I\nthought Heaven summoned me to retire to Virginia, the place, and, as I\nmay say, the only place, I had been blessed at, or had met with\nanything that deserved the name of success in, and where, indeed, my\naffairs being in good hands, the plantations were increased to such a\ndegree that some years my return here made up eight hundred pounds, and\none year almost a thousand. So I resolved to leave my native country\nonce more, and taking my son with me, and leaving Moggy\u2019s daughter with\nher grandfather, I made him my principal agent, left him considerable\nin his hands for the maintenance of the child, and left my will in his\nhand, by which, if I died before I should otherwise provide for her, I\nleft her \u00a32000 portion, to be paid by my son out of the estate I had in\nVirginia, and the whole estate, if he died unmarried.\nI embarked for Virginia in the year \u2014\u2014, at the town of Liverpool, and\nhad a tolerable voyage thither, only that we met with a pirate ship, in\nthe latitude of 48 degrees, who plundered us of every thing they could\ncome at that was for their turn; that is to say, provisions,\nammunition, small-arms, and money. But, to give the rogues their due,\nthough they were the most abandoned wretches that were ever seen, they\ndid not use us ill. And as to my loss, it was not considerable; the\ncargo which I had on board was in goods, and was of no use to them; nor\ncould they come at those things without rummaging the whole ship, which\nthey did not think worth their while.\nI found all my affairs in very good order at Virginia, my plantations\nprodigiously increased, and my manager, who first inspired me with\ntravelling thoughts, and made me master of any knowledge worth naming,\nreceived me with a transport of joy, after a ramble of four-and-twenty\nyears.\nI ought to remember it, to the encouragement of all faithful servants,\nthat he gave me an account, which, I believe, was critically just, of\nthe whole affairs of the plantations, each by themselves, and balanced\nin years, every year\u2019s produce being fully transmitted, charges\ndeducted, to my order at London.\nI was exceedingly satisfied, as I had good reason indeed, with his\nmanagement; and with his management, as much in its degree, of his own\nI can safely say it. He had improved a very large plantation of his own\nat the same time, which he began upon the foot of the country\u2019s\nallowance of land and the encouragement he had from me.\nWhen he had given me all this pleasing, agreeable account, you will not\nthink it strange that I had a desire to see the plantations, and to\nview all the servants, which, in both the works, were upwards of three\nhundred; and as my tutor generally bought some every fleet that came\nfrom England, I had the mortification to see two or three of the\nPreston gentlemen there, who, being prisoners of war, were spared from\nthe public execution, and sent over to that slavery, which to gentlemen\nmust be worse than death.\nI do not mention what I did or said relating to them here. I shall\nspeak at large of it when the rest of them came over, which more nearly\nconcerned me.\nBut one circumstance occurred to me here that equally surprised me and\nterrified me to the last degree. Looking over all the servants, as I\nsay above, and viewing the plantations narrowly and frequently, I came\none day by a place where some women were at work by themselves. I was\nseriously reflecting on the misery of human life, when I saw some of\nthose poor wretches. Thought I, \u201cThey have perhaps lived gay and\npleasantly in the world, notwithstanding, through a variety of\ndistresses, they may have been brought to this; and if a body was to\nhear the history of some of them now, it would perhaps be as moving and\nas seasonable a sermon as any minister in the country could preach.\u201d\nWhile I was musing thus and looking at the women, on a sudden I heard a\ncombustion among other of the women-servants, who were almost behind\nme, in the same work, and help was called loudly for, one of the women\nhaving swooned away. They said she would die immediately if something\nwas not done to relieve her. I had nothing about me but a little\nbottle, which we always carried about us there with rum, to give any\nservant a dram that merited that favour; so I turned my horse and went\nup towards the place. But as the poor creature was lying flat on the\nground, and the rest of the women-servants about her, I did not see\nher, but gave them the bottle, and they rubbed her temples with it,\nand, with much ado, brought her to life, and gave her a little to\ndrink. But she could drink none of it, and was exceeding ill\nafterwards, so that she was carried to the infirmary\u2014so they call it in\nthe religious houses in Italy where the sick nuns and friars are\ncarried; but here, in Virginia, I think they should call it the\ncondemned hole, for it really was only a place just fit for people to\ndie in, not a place to be cured in.\nThe sick woman refusing to drink, one of the women-servants brought me\nthe bottle again, and I bade them drink it among them, which had almost\nset them together by the ears for the liquor, there being not enough to\ngive every one a sup.\nI went home to my house immediately, and reflecting on the miserable\nprovision was wont to be made for poor servants when they were sick, I\ninquired of my manager if it was so still. He said he believed mine was\nbetter than any in the country; but he confessed it was but sad\nlodging. However, he said he would go and look after it immediately and\nsee how it was.\nHe came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very\nill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very\npenitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her\nmind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no\nminister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew\nthey had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived\ntill morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had\nremoved her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that\nhe had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he\nthought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her\nand sit up with her.\n\u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cthat\u2019s well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures\nlie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when\nthey are sick and want help. Besides,\u201d said I, \u201csome of those\nunfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been\ntenderly brought up.\u201d \u201cReally, sir,\u201d says he, \u201cthis poor creature, I\nalways said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by\nher behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very\ngreat once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and\nI dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a\nhand as fine as a lady\u2019s now, though it be tanned with the weather. I\ndare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she\nsays to the rest that it will kill her.\u201d\n\u201cTruly,\u201d says I, \u201cit may be so, and that may be the reason that she\nfaints under it;\u201d and I added, \u201cIs there nothing you can put her to\nwithin doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much\nheat and cold?\u201d He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the\nhousekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time,\nand was married and turned planter. \u201cWhy, then, let her have it,\u201d said\nI, \u201cif she recovers; and in the meantime go,\u201d said I, \u201cand tell her so;\nperhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her.\u201d\nHe did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good\nwarm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again;\nfor it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging\nand mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted\nat her work.\nWhen she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all\nthe household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions\nso well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and\nthen speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. \u201cI\u2019ll\nwarrant,\u201d says he, \u201cshe has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a\nfine woman in her time too.\u201d In a word, he said so many good things of\nher that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to\nthe plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always\nreserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to\nsee me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew\nme; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known\nher. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at\nseeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I\nordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and\nbegged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if\nshe came near me.\nI, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me\n(for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she\nneed to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for\nany hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give\nher. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was\nof another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a\nhandkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. \u201cMrs.\nHousekeeper,\u201d said I, speaking cheerfully to her, \u201cdon\u2019t be concerned\nat my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your\nmanagement, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased\nwith it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your\ncircumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of\nyour misery.\u201d\nShe made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far\nencouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face\nfully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was;\nbut I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her\nin my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to\ndo with any that I saw deserved it.\nIn the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some\nbusiness or other\u2014I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out\ninto a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: \u201cOh, sir!\u201d\nsays she, \u201cI see you don\u2019t know me. Be merciful to me; I am your\nmiserable divorced wife!\u201d\nI was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was\nspeechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her\nface, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say,\nas a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and\nfasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I\ntook her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew\nher than if I had never seen her.\n\u201cOh, sir!\u201d said she, \u201cafflictions are dreadful things; such as I have\nsuffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive,\u201d said\nshe, \u201cfor God\u2019s sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear\nfor all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should\nbring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings.\nForgive me, sir,\u201d said she, \u201cI beseech you, and let me be your slave or\nservant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;\u201d and with those\nwords she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was\nimpossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up\nagain, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear\nwhat I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I\nwas hardly able to speak any more than she was.\nFirst, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to\nsay much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast\nas they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that,\nas nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely\nnecessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the\nworse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I\ncould do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her\nfuture good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it;\nthat, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back\nto her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before;\nthat I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or\ntwo. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go\nout of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor\ncame again, that he might not see the agony she was in.\nI was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew\nwhat I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled\nresolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the\nmorning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly\nconcerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I\nhad heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been\nin very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad\nhe had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was\nalmost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and\ngive her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small\nthings such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to\nlet her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua\nof a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he\ndid, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she\nhad cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed\ncry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things\nhe gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and\nstop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out\nagain, so that it grieved everybody that saw her.\nI was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with\nmyself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the\nmeantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third\nday, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in\nthis remarkable case.\nWhen I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the\nroom I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her,\nand told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my\nlivery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much\nmore than she had deserved from me.\nI then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but\nourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind\nthings that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on\nthat subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was\npast. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her\nit was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her\nthere as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so\nlittle as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put\nan end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable\npart of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually\nkeep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her\nmouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable\nruin.\nShe was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me\nall she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present\ncalamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased,\nshe might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what\ntime she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do\nthe meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice\nto hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not\nlook any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the\nmeantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much\nas know that I had ever seen her before.\nI asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history\nof her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it\notherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with\nme began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards\nwas a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and\nat last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an\nexpensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to\nsupport the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and\ndifficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to\nextreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me\nin the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely\npenitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor\nwhich way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she\nwanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad\ncompany of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves,\nwith whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while,\nbut under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the\nconstant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was\ncome upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not\nprincipal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She\ntold me her life was such a collection of various fortunes\u2014up and down,\nin plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in\ntorment\u2014that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of\nit; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part\nof the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared\ndelicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire\nhusks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so\nstrongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so\nthat she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go\non at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her\nstory at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and\nthat I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and\ndesired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part.\nIn the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my\nhands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she\nshould not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at\npresent; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the\nbusiness of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an\nassistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither\nmore or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her;\nand told her, too, that it was so.\nAfter she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits\nand grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow\nparts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that\nbrightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to\nme; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and\nof taking her into her first station again; but there were many\ndifficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while.\nBut in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a\nvery great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing\ncould be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of\ngenerous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the\nmisery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some\nthings more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say,\nshe was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he\nwas charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love\nwith her.\nI hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue,\nwas mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and\nwas perfectly well-bred. These all remained with her still, and made\nher a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening\nand told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the\nhousekeeper.\nI was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him\nno room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of\nit before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that\nhe had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she\nhad almost four years of her time to serve.\nHe answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much\nas take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me\nhe had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer\nindeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself\nto her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her\nbeforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as\nhe thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it,\nneither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time\nwith me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would\nconsider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair\nas that.\nHe told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was\nresolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it,\nfor he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he\nran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the\nmanagement of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she\nwas, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the\nlike; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just\ncharacter too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she\nwas vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright\npart, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that\nshe formerly wanted.\nI had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest\nhousekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course\nshe would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill\nwith a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors;\nand in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had\ngone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at\nfirst, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her\nconsent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again\nthe third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could\nnot think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that\nshe thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his\nrespect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would\nsuppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not\nabuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under\nobligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a\nmarried woman and had a husband alive.\nThis was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no\nroom to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it\nwas a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as\never he met with.\nThe next day after he had received this repulse I came to the\nplantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her,\nand told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous\nproposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it,\nand then told her what my tutor had said to me.\nShe immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much.\n\u201cOh, sir!\u201d says she, \u201chow can you name such a thing to me?\u201d I told her\nthat I could name it the better to her because I had been married\nmyself since I parted from her. \u201cYes, sir,\u201d says she; \u201cbut the case\nalters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but,\u201d says\nshe, \u201cthat is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it.\u201d I pretended\nto press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my\nheart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her\nin my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to\nit, at which she burst out in a passion. \u201cNo, no,\u201d says she; \u201clet me be\nyour slave rather than the best man\u2019s wife in the world.\u201d I reasoned\nwith her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore\nher to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever\nknow or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it;\nbut, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be\nheard, \u201cI beseech you,\u201d says she, \u201cdo not speak of it any more. I was\nonce yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let\nme be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife\nto any man alive but yourself.\u201d\nI was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew\nnot what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, \u201cIt is a\ngreat pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had\nbeen better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to\nanything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for\nrefusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will\nreceive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into\nyour circumstances, so it is.\u201d \u201cOh, sir!\u201d says she, \u201cI have done all\nthat already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never\ntrouble you any more on that head;\u201d and then she told me what answer\nshe had given him.\nFrom that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be\nmy wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her\nformer ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she\ndid, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had\nundergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that\nProvidence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had\ngiven her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could\nrefuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther\nseparated from me.\nAs I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it\nany longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer,\nbut I took her in my arms: \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cyou have given me such a\ntestimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I\nforgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since\nyou will be nobody\u2019s but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at\nfirst.\u201d\nBut this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far\novercome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her\npassion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and\nI was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried\nfor a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word.\nWhen she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must\nconsider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be\ndone by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would\nexpose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she\nagreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we\nwere married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife\nor lived more happy than we both did for several years after.\nAnd now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I\nhad nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as\nmine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our\nsufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind\nof life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what\nstation we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy.\nBut man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than\nin that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for\nhimself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me,\nthat the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to\nmake a man completely happy as any private station in the world could\nbe. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for\nthe supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose\nto ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was\npleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any\ncircumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it;\nevery good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we\ncould have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us.\nNor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy\nnotions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could\nhappen to us in the common course of things, unless something should\nbefall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in\nthe world.\nBut, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and\nthough it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually\nremoved me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again\u2014a\ncondition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances\ndangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and\nbe guided by his own short-sighted measures.\nI must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past\nfor some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in\nEngland.\nI mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her\nentreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly\njoin in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party\nwhen they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life.\nBut my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip\nwhen they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at\nthem, and see what they were likely to come to.\nMy former wife\u2019s importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me\nfrom publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them\nin arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure,\nbecause I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known\nto have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me\nafterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had.\nBut when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there\nappeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old\ndoctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had\nmarried us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he\nobliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day\nbefore they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture\nwith me.\nI was not so public here as to be very well known, at least by any one\nthat had knowledge of me in the country where I lived; and this was\nindeed my safety afterwards, as you will soon hear. But yet I was known\ntoo among the men, especially among the Scots, with some of whom I had\nbeen acquainted in foreign service. With these I was particularly\nconversant, and, passing for a French officer, I talked to them of\nmaking a select detachment to defend the pass between Preston and the\nriver and bridge, upon maintaining which, as I insisted, depended the\nsafety of the whole party.\nIt was with some warmth that I spoke of that affair, and as I passed\namong them, I say, for a French officer and a man of experience, it\ncaused several debates among them. But the hint was not followed, as is\nwell known, and from that moment I gave them all up as lost, and\nmeditated nothing but how to escape from them, which I effected the\nnight before they were surrounded by the royal cavalry. I did not do\nthis without great difficulty, swimming the river Ribble at a place\nwhere, though I got well over, yet I could not for a long while get to\na place where my horse could land himself\u2014that is to say, where the\nground was firm enough for him to take the land. However, at length I\ngot on shore, and riding very hard, came the next evening in sight of\nmy own dwelling. Here, after lying by in a wood till the depth of\nnight, I shot my horse in a little kind of a gravel pit, or marl pit,\nwhere I soon covered him with earth for the present, and marching all\nalone, I came about two in the morning to my house, where my wife,\nsurprised with joy and yet terribly frighted, let me in; and then I\ntook immediate measures to secure myself upon whatever incident might\nhappen, but which, as things were ordered, I had no need to make use\nof, for the rebels being entirely defeated, and either all killed or\ntaken prisoners, I was not known by anybody in the country to have been\namong them; no, nor so much as suspected. And thus I made a narrow\nescape from the most dangerous action, and most foolishly embarked in,\nof any that I had ever been engaged in before.\nIt was very lucky to me that I killed and buried my horse, for he would\nhave been taken two days after, and would, to be sure, have been known\nby those who had seen me upon him at Preston. But now, as none knew I\nhad been abroad, nor any such circumstance could discover me, I kept\nclose, and as my excursion had been short and I had not been missed by\nany of my neighbours, if anybody came to speak with me, behold I was at\nhome.\nHowever, I was not thoroughly easy in my mind, and secretly wished I\nwas in my own dominions in Virginia, to which, in a little time, other\ncircumstances occurring, I made preparations to remove with my whole\nfamily.\nIn the meantime, as above, the action at Preston happened, and the\nmiserable people surrendered to the king\u2019s troops. Some were executed\nfor examples, as in such cases is usual, and the government extending\nmercy to the multitude, they were kept in Chester Castle, and other\nplaces a considerable time, till they were disposed of, some one way,\nsome another, as we shall hear.\nSeveral hundreds of them after this were, at their own request,\ntransported, as it is vulgarly expressed, to the plantations\u2014that is to\nsay, sent to Virginia and other British colonies to be sold after the\nusual manner of condemned criminals, or, as we call them there,\nconvicts, to serve a limited time in the country, and then be made\nfreemen again. Some of these I have spoken of above; but now, to my no\nlittle uneasiness, I found, after I had been there some time, two ships\narrived with more of these people in the same river where all my\nplantations lay.\nI no sooner heard of it but the first step I took was to resolve to let\nnone of them be bought into my work or to any of my plantations; and\nthis I did, pretending that I would not make slaves every day of\nunfortunate gentlemen who fell into that condition for their zeal to\ntheir party only, and the like. But the true reason was, that I\nexpected several of them would know me, and might perhaps betray me,\nand make it public that I was one of the same sort, but had made my\nescape; and so I might be brought into trouble, and, if I came off with\nmy life, might have all my effects seized on, and be reduced to misery\nand poverty again at once, all which I thought I had done enough to\ndeserve.\nThis was a just caution, but, as I found quickly, was not a sufficient\none, as my circumstances stood, for my safety; for though I bought none\nof these poor men myself, yet several of my neighbours did, and there\nwas scarce a plantation near me but had some of them, more or less,\namong them; so that, in a word, I could not peep abroad hardly but I\nwas in danger to be seen, and known too, by some or other of them.\nI may be allowed to say that this was a very uneasy life to me, and\nsuch that, in short, I found myself utterly unable to bear; for I was\nnow reduced from a great man, a magistrate, a governor or master of\nthree great plantations, and having three or four hundred servants at\nmy command, to be a poor self-condemned rebel, and durst not show my\nface; and that I might with the same safety, or rather more, have\nskulked about in Lancashire where I was, or gone up to London and\nconcealed myself there till things had been over. But now the danger\nwas come home to me, even to my door, and I expected nothing but to be\ninformed against every day, be taken up, and sent to England in irons,\nand have all my plantations seized on as a forfeited estate to the\nCrown.\nI had but one hope of safety to trust to, and that was, that having\nbeen so little a while among them, done nothing for them, and passing\nfor a stranger, they never knew my name, but only I was called the\nFrench colonel, or the French officer, or the French gentleman by most,\nif not by all, the people here. And as for the doctor that went with\nme, he had found means to escape too, though not the same way that I\ndid, finding the cause not likely to be supported, and that the king\u2019s\ntroops were gathering on all sides round them like a cloud.\nBut to return to myself; this was no satisfaction to me, and what to do\nI really knew not, for I was more at a loss how to shift in such a\ndistressed case as this, now it lay so close to me, than ever I was in\nany difficulty in my life. The first thing I did was to come home and\nmake a confidence of the whole affair to my wife; and though I did it\ngenerously without conditions, yet I did not do it without first\ntelling her how I was now going to put my life into her hands, that she\nmight have it in her power to pay me home for all that she might think\nhad been hard in my former usage of her; and that, in short, it would\nbe in her power to deliver me up into the hands of my enemies, but that\nI would trust her generosity, as well as her renewed affection, and put\nall upon her fidelity, and without any more precaution I opened the\nwhole thing to her, and particularly the danger I was now in.\nA faithful counsellor is life from the dead, gives courage where the\nheart is sinking, and raises the mind to a proper use of means; and\nsuch she was to me indeed upon every step of this affair, and it was by\nher direction that I took every step that followed for the extricating\nmyself out of this labyrinth.\n\u201cCome, come, my dear,\u201d says she, \u201cif this be all, there is no room for\nany such disconsolate doings as your fears run you upon;\u201d for I was\nimmediately for selling off my plantations and all my stock and\nembarking myself forthwith, and to get to Madeira or to any place out\nof the king\u2019s dominions.\nBut my wife was quite of another opinion, and encouraging me on another\naccount, proposed two things, either my freighting a sloop with\nprovisions to the West Indies, and so taking passage from thence to\nLondon, or letting her go away directly for England and endeavour to\nobtain the king\u2019s pardon, whatever it might cost.\nI inclined to the last proposal; for though I was unhappily prejudiced\nin favour of a wrong interest, yet I had always a secret and right\nnotion of the clemency and merciful disposition of his Majesty, and,\nhad I been in England, should, I believe, have been easily persuaded to\nhave thrown myself at his foot.\nBut going to England as I was circumstanced must have been a public\naction, and I must have made all the usual preparations for it, must\nhave appeared in public, have stayed till the crop was ready, and gone\naway in form and state as usual, or have acted as if something\nextraordinary was the matter, and have filled the heads of the people\nthere with innumerable suggestions of they knew not what.\nBut my wife made all this easy to me from her own invention; for,\nwithout acquainting me of any thing, she comes merrily to me one\nmorning before I was up: \u201cMy dear,\u201d says she, \u201cI am very sorry to hear\nthat you are not very well this morning. I have ordered Pennico\u201d (that\nwas a young negro girl which I had given her) \u201cto make you a fire in\nyour chamber, and pray lie still where you are a while till it is\ndone.\u201d At the same instant the little negro came in with wood and a\npair of bellows, &c., to kindle the fire, and my wife, not giving me\ntime to reply, whispers close to my ear to lie still and say nothing\ntill she came up again to me.\nI was thoroughly frighted, that you may be sure of, and thought of\nnothing but of being discovered, betrayed, and carried to England,\nhanged, quartered, and all that was terrible, and my very heart sunk\nwithin me. She perceived my disorder and turned back, assuring me there\nwas no harm, desired me to be easy, and she would come back again\npresently and give me satisfaction in every particular that I could\ndesire. So I composed myself a while as well as I could, but it was but\na little while that I could bear it, and I sent Pennico downstairs to\nfind out her mistress, and tell her I was very ill and must speak with\nher immediately; and the girl was scarce out of the room before I\njumped out of bed and began to dress me, that I might be ready for all\nevents.\nMy wife was as good as her word, and was coming up as the girl was\ncoming down. \u201cI see,\u201d says she, \u201cyou want patience, but pray do not\nwant government of yourself, but take that screen before your face, and\ngo to the window and see if you know any of those Scotchmen that are in\nthe yard, for there are seven or eight of them come about some business\nto your clerk.\u201d\nI went and looked through the screen, and saw the faces of them all\ndistinctly, but could make nothing of them other than that they were\nScotchmen, which was easy to discern. However, it was no satisfaction\nto me that I knew not their faces, for they might know mine for all\nthat, according to the old English proverb, \u201cThat more knows Tom Fool\nthan Tom Fool knows;\u201d so I kept close in my chamber till I understood\nthey were all gone.\nAfter this my wife caused it to be given out in the house that I was\nnot well; and when this not being well had lasted three or four days, I\nhad my leg wrapped up in a great piece of flannel and laid upon a\nstool, and there I was lame of the gout; and this served for about six\nweeks, when my wife told me she had given it out that my gout was\nrather rheumatic than a settled gout, and that I was resolved to take\none of my own sloops and go away to Nevis or Antigua, and use the hot\nbaths there for my cure.\nAll this was very well, and I approved my wife\u2019s contrivance as\nadmirably good, both to keep me within doors eight or ten weeks at\nfirst, and to convey me away afterwards without any extraordinary\nbustle to be made about it; but still I did not know what it all tended\nto, and what the design of it all was. But my wife desired me to leave\nthat to her; so I readily did, and she carried it all on with a\nprudence not to be disputed; and after she had wrapped my legs in\nflannel almost three months, she came and told me the sloop was ready\nand all the goods put on board. \u201cAnd now, my dear,\u201d says she, \u201cI come\nto tell you all the rest of my design; for,\u201d added she, \u201cI hope you\nwill not think I am going to kidnap you, and transport you from\nVirginia, as other people are transported to it, or that I am going to\nget you sent away and leave myself in possession of your estate; but\nyou shall find me the same faithful, humble creature which I should\nhave been if I had been still your slave, and not had any hopes of\nbeing your wife, and that in all my scheme which I have laid for your\nsafety, in this new exigence, I have not proposed your going one step\nbut where I shall go and be always with you, to assist and serve you on\nall occasions, and to take my portion with you, of what kind soever our\nlot may be.\u201d\nThis was so generous, and so handsome a declaration of her fidelity,\nand so great a token, too, of the goodness of her judgment in\nconsidering of the things which were before her, and of what my present\ncircumstances called for, that, from that time forward, I gave myself\ncheerfully up to her management without any hesitation in the least,\nand after about ten days\u2019 preparation we embarked in a large sloop of\nmy own of about sixty tons.\nI should have mentioned here that I had still my faithful tutor, as I\ncalled him, at the head of my affairs; and, as he knew who to\ncorrespond with, and how to manage the correspondence in England, we\nleft all that part to him, as I had done before; and I did this with a\nfull satisfaction in his ability as well as in his integrity. It is\ntrue he had been a little chagrined in that affair of my wife, who, as\nI hinted before, had married me, after telling him, in answer to his\nsolicitations, that she had a husband alive. Now, though this was\nliterally true, yet, as it was a secret not fit to be opened to him, I\nwas obliged to put him off with other reasons, as well as I could,\nperhaps not much to the purpose, and perhaps not much to his\nsatisfaction, so that I reckoned he looked on himself as not very\nkindly used several ways. But he began to get over it, and to be easy,\nespecially at our going away, when he found that the trust of\neverything was still left in his hands as it was before.\nWhen my wife had thus communicated everything of the voyage to me, and\nwe began to be ready to go off, she came to me one morning, and, with\nher usual cheerfulness, told me she now came to tell me the rest of her\nmeasures for the completing my deliverance; and this was, that while we\nmade this trip, as she called it, to the hot springs at Nevis, she\nwould write to a particular friend at London, whom she could depend\nupon, to try to get a pardon for a person on account of the late\nrebellion, with all the circumstances which my case was attended with,\nviz., of having acted nothing among them but being three days in the\nplace; and, while we were thus absent, she did not question but to have\nan answer, which she would direct to come so many ways that we would be\nsure to have the first of it as soon as it was possible the vessels\ncould go and come. And in the meantime the expense should be very\nsmall, for she would have an answer to the grand question first,\nwhether it could be obtained or no; and then an account of the expense\nof it, that so I might judge for myself whether I would part with the\nneedful sum or no, before any money was disbursed on my account.\nI could not but be thoroughly satisfied with her contrivance in this\nparticular, and I had nothing to add to it but that I would not have\nher limit her friend so strictly, but that if he saw the way clear, and\nthat he was sure to obtain it, he should go through stitch with it, if\nwithin the expense of two or three or four hundred pounds, and that,\nupon advice of its being practicable, he should have bills payable by\nsuch a person on delivery of the warrant for the thing.\nTo fortify this, I enclosed in her packet a letter to one of my\ncorrespondents, whom I could particularly trust, with a credit for the\nmoney, on such-an-such conditions; but the honesty and integrity of my\nwife\u2019s correspondence was such as prevented all the expense, and yet I\nhad the wished-for security, as if it had been all paid, as you shall\nhear presently.\nAll these things being fixed to our minds, and all things left behind\nin good posture of settlement as usual, we embarked together and put to\nsea, having the opportunity of an English man-of-war being on the coast\nin pursuit of the pirates, and who was just then standing away towards\nthe Gulf of Florida, and told us he would see us safe as far as New\nProvidence, on the Bahama Islands.\nAnd now having fair weather and a pleasant voyage, and my flannels\ntaken off my legs, I must hint a little what cargo I had with me; for\nas my circumstances were very good in that country, so I did not go\nsuch a voyage as this, and with a particular reserve of fortunes\nwhatever might afterwards happen, without a sufficient cargo for our\nsupport, and whatever exigence might happen.\nOur sloop, as I said, was of about sixty or seventy tons; and as\ntobacco, which is the general produce of the country, was no\nmerchandise at Nevis, that is to say, for a great quantity, so we\ncarried very little, but loaded the sloop with corn, peas, meal, and\nsome barrels of pork; and an excellent cargo it was, most of it being\nthe produce of my own plantation. We took also a considerable sum of\nmoney with us in Spanish gold, which was, as above, not for trade, but\nfor all events. I also ordered another sloop to be hired, and to be\nsent after me, loaden with the same goods, as soon as they should have\nadvice from me that I was safe arrived.\nWe came to the latitude of the island of Antigua, which was very near\nto that of Nevis, whither we intended to go, on the eighteenth day\nafter our passing the Capes of Virginia, but had no sight of the\nisland; only our master said he was sure if he stood the same course as\nhe then was, and the gale held, I say he told me he was sure he should\nmake the island in less than five hours\u2019 sail; so he stood on fair for\nthe islands. However, his account had failed him, for we held on all\nthe evening, made no land, and likewise all night, when in the grey of\nthe morning we discovered from the topmast-head a brigantine and a\nsloop making sail after us, at the distance of about six leagues, fair\nweather, and the wind fresh at S.E.\nOur master soon understood what they were, and came down into the cabin\nto me to let me know it. I was much surprised, you may be sure, at the\ndanger, but my poor wife took from me all the concern for myself to\ntake care of her, for she was frighted to that degree that I thought we\nshould not have been able to keep life in her.\nWhile we were thus under the first hurry and surprise of the thing,\nsuddenly another noise from the deck called us up to look out, and that\nwas, \u201cLand! land!\u201d The master and I\u2014for by this time I had got out of\nmy cabin\u2014run upon the deck, and there we saw the state of our case very\nplain. The two rogues that stood after us laid on all the canvas they\ncould carry, and crowded after us amain, but at the distance, as I have\nsaid, of about six leagues, rather more than less. On the other hand,\nthe land discovered lay about nine leagues right ahead, so that if the\npirates could get of us, so as to sail three feet for our two, it was\nevident they would be up with us before we could make the island. If\nnot, we should escape them and get in; but even then we had no great\nhope to do any more than to run the ship ashore to save our lives, and\nso, stranding our vessel, spoil both sloop and cargo.\nWhen we were making this calculation our master came in cheerfully, and\ntold me he had crowded on more sail, and found the sloop carried it\nvery well, and that he did not find the rogues gained much upon us, and\nthat especially if one of them did not, that was the sloop, he found he\ncould go away from the brigantine as he pleased. Thus we gave them what\nthey call a stern chase, and they worked hard to come up with us till\ntowards noon, when on a sudden they both stood away and gave us over,\nto our great satisfaction you may be sure.\nWe did not, it seems, so easily see the occasion of our deliverance as\nthe pirate did; for while we went spooning away large with the wind for\none of the islands, with those two spurs in our heels, that is, with\nthe two thieves at our sterns, there lay an English man-of-war in the\nroad of Nevis, which was the same island from whence they espied the\npirates, but the land lying between, we could not see them.\nAs the man-of-war discovered them she immediately slipped her cable and\nput herself under sail in chase of the rogues; and they as soon\nperceived her, and being windward, put themselves upon a wind to escape\nher; and thus we were delivered, and in half-an-hour more we knew who\nwas our deliverer, seeing the man-of-war stretch ahead clear of the\nisland, and stand directly after the pirates, who now crowded from us\nas fast as they crowded after us before; and thus we got safe into\nAntigua, after the terrible apprehension we had been in of being taken.\nOur apprehensions of being taken now were much more than they would\nhave been on board a loaden ship from or to London, where the most they\nordinarily do is to rifle the ship, take what is valuable and portable,\nand let her go. But ours being but a sloop, and all our loading being\ngood provisions, such as they wanted, to be sure, for their ship\u2019s\nstore, they would certainly have carried us away, ship and all, taken\nout the cargo and the men, and perhaps have set the sloop on fire; so\nthat, as to our cargo of gold, it had been inevitably lost, and we\nhurried away, nobody knows where, and used as such barbarous fellows\nare wont to use innocent people as fall into their hands.\nBut we were now out of their hands, and had the satisfaction a few days\nafter to hear that the man-of-war pursued them so close,\nnotwithstanding they changed their course in the night, that the next\nday they were obliged to separate and shift for themselves; so the\nman-of-war took one of them, namely, the brigantine, and carried her\ninto Jamaica, but the other, viz., the sloop, made her escape.\nBeing arrived here, we presently disposed of our cargo, and at a\ntolerable good price; and now the question was, what I should do next.\nI looked upon myself to be safe here from the fears I had been under of\nbeing discovered as a rebel, and so indeed I was; but having been now\nabsent five months, and having sent the ship back with a cargo of rum\nand molasses, which I knew was wanting in my plantations, I received\nthe same vessel back in return loaden, as at first, with provisions.\nWith this cargo my wife received a packet from London from the person\nwhom she had employed, as above, to solicit a pardon, who very honestly\nwrote to her that he would not be so unjust to her friend, whoever he\nwas, as to put him to any expense for a private solicitation; for that\nhe was very well assured that his Majesty had resolved, from his own\nnative disposition to acts of clemency and mercy to his subjects, to\ngrant a general pardon, with some few exceptions to persons\nextraordinary, and he hoped her friend was none of the extraordinary\npersons to be excepted.\nThis was a kind of life from the dead to us both, and it was resolved\nthat my wife should go back in the sloop directly to Virginia, where\nshe should wait the good news from England, and should send me an\naccount of it as soon as she received it.\nAccordingly she went back, and came safe with the sloop and cargo to\nour plantation, from whence, after above four months\u2019 more expectation,\nbehold the sloop came to me again, but empty and gutted of all her\ncargo, except about a hundred sacks of unground malt, which the\npirates, not knowing how to brew, knew not what to do with, and so had\nleft in her. However, to my infinite satisfaction, there was a packet\nof letters from my wife, with another to her from England, as well one\nfrom her friend as one from my own correspondent; both of them inti\nmating that the king had signed an act of grace, that is to say, a\ngeneral free pardon, and sent me copies of the act, wherein it was\nmanifest that I was fully included.\nAnd here let me hint, that having now, as it were, received my life at\nthe hands of King George, and in a manner so satisfying as it was to\nme, it made a generous convert of me, and I became sincerely given in\nto the interest of King George; and this from a principle of gratitude\nand a sense of my obligation to his Majesty for my life; and it has\ncontinued ever since, and will certainly remain with me as long as any\nsense of honour and of the debt of gratitude remains with me. I mention\nthis to hint how far in such cases justice and duty to ourselves\ncommands us; namely, that to those who graciously give us our lives\nwhen it is in their power to take them away, those lives are a debt\never after, and ought to be set apart for their service and interest as\nlong as any of the powers of life remain, for gratitude is a debt that\nnever ceases while the benefit received remains; and if my prince has\ngiven me my life, I can never pay the debt fully, unless such a\ncircumstance as this should happen, that the prince\u2019s life should be in\nmy power, and I as generously preserved it. And yet neither would the\nobligation be paid then, because the cases would differ; thus, that my\npreserving the life of my prince was my natural duty, whereas the\nprince on his side, my life being forfeited to him, had no motive but\nmere clemency and beneficence.\nPerhaps this principle may not please all that read it; but as I have\nresolved to guide my actions in things of such a nature by the rules of\nstrict virtue and principles of honour, so I must lay it down as a rule\nof honour, that a man having once forfeited his life to the justice of\nhis prince and to the laws of his country, and receiving it back as a\nbounty from the grace of his sovereign, such a man can never lift up\nhis hand again against that prince without a forfeiture of his virtue\nand an irreparable breach of his honour and duty, and deserves no\npardon after it either from God or man. But all this is a digression: I\nleave it as a sketch of the laws of honour, printed by the laws of\nnature in the breast of a soldier or a man of honour, and which, I\nbelieve, all impartial persons who understand what honour means will\nsubscribe to.\nBut I return now to my present circumstances. My wife was gone, and\nwith her all my good fortune and success in business seemed to have\nforsaken me; and I had another scene of misery to go through, after I\nhad thought that all my misfortunes were over and at an end.\nMy sloop, as I have told you, arrived, but having met with a pirate\nrogue in the Gulf of Florida, they took her first; then finding her\ncargo to be all eatables, which they always want, they gutted her of\nall her loading, except, as I have said, about a hundred sacks of malt,\nwhich they really knew not what to do with; and, which was still worse,\nthey took away all the men except the master and two boys, who they\nleft on board just to run the vessel into Antigua, where they said they\nwere bound.\nBut the most valuable part of my cargo, viz., a packet of letters from\nEngland, those they left, to my inexpressible comfort and satisfaction;\nand, particularly, that by those I saw my way home to return to my wife\nand to my plantations, from which I promised myself never to wander any\nmore.\nIn order to this, I now embarked myself and all my effects on board the\nsloop, resolving to sail directly to the Capes of Virginia. My captain\nbeating it up to reach the Bahama channel, had not been two days at sea\nbut we were overtaken by a violent storm, which drove us so far upon\nthe coast of Florida as that we twice struck upon the shore, and had we\nstruck a third time we had been inevitably lost. A day or two after\nthat, the storm abating a little, we kept the sea, but found the wind\nblowing so strong against our passing the gulf, and the sea going so\nhigh, we could not hold it any longer. So we were forced to bear away\nand make what shift we could; in which distress, the fifth day after,\nwe made land, but found it to be Cape \u2014\u2014, the north-west part of the\nisle of Cuba. Here we found ourselves under a necessity to run in under\nthe land for shelter, though we had not come to an anchor, so we had\nnot touched the king of Spain\u2019s territories at all. However, in the\nmorning we were surrounded with five Spanish barks, or boats, such as\nthey call _barco longos_, full of men, who instantly boarded us, took\nus and carried us into the Havannah, the most considerable port\nbelonging to the Spaniards in that part of the world.\nHere the sloop was immediately seized, and in consequence plundered, as\nany one that knows the Spaniards, especially in that country, will\neasily guess. Our men were made prisoners and sent to the common gaol;\nand as for myself and the captain, we were carried before the Alcade\nMajor, or intendant of the place, as criminals.\nI spoke Spanish very well, having served under the king of Spain in\nItaly, and it stood me in good stead at this time; for I so effectually\nargued the injustice of their treatment of me that the governor, or\nwhat I ought to call him, frankly owned they ought not to have stopped\nme, seeing I was in the open sea pursuing my voyage, and offered no\noffence to anybody, and had not landed or offered to land upon any part\nof his Catholic Majesty\u2019s dominions till I was brought as a prisoner.\nIt was a great favour that I could obtain thus much; but I found it\neasier to obtain an acknowledgment that I had received wrong than to\nget any satisfaction for that wrong, and much less was there any hope\nor prospect of restitution; and I was let know that I was to wait till\nan account could be sent to the viceroy of Mexico, and orders could be\nreceived back from him how to act in the affair.\nI could easily foresee what all this tended to, namely, to a\nconfiscation of the ship and goods by the ordinary process at the\nplace; and that my being left to the decision of the viceroy of Mexico\nwas but a pretended representation of things to him from the\ncorregidore or judge of the place.\nHowever, I had no remedy but the old insignificant thing called\npatience, and this I was better furnished with because I did not so\nmuch value the loss as I made them believe I did. My greatest\napprehensions were that they would detain me and keep me as a prisoner\nfor life, and perhaps send me to their mines in Peru, as they have done\nmany, and pretended to do to all that come on shore in their dominions,\nhow great soever the distresses may have been which have brought them\nthither, and which has been the reason why others who have been forced\non shore have committed all manner of violence upon the Spaniards in\ntheir turn, resolving, however dear they sold their lives, not to fall\ninto their hands.\nBut I got better quarter among them than that too, which was, as I have\nsaid, much of it owing to my speaking Spanish, and to my telling them\nhow I had fought in so many occasions in the quarrel of his Catholic\nMajesty in Italy; and, by great good chance, I had the king of France\u2019s\ncommission for lieutenant-colonel in the Irish brigade in my pocket,\nwhere it was mentioned that the said brigade was then serving in the\narmies of France, under the orders of his Catholic Majesty, in Italy.\nI failed not to talk up the gallantry and personal bravery of his\nCatholic Majesty on all occasions, and particularly in many battles\nwhere, by the way, his Majesty had never been at all, and in some where\nI had never been myself. But I found I talked to people who knew\nnothing of the matter, and so anything went down with them if it did\nbut praise the king of Spain and talk big of the Spanish cavalry, of\nwhich, God knows, there was not one regiment in the army, at least\nwhile I was there.\nHowever, this way of managing myself obtained me the liberty of the\nplace, upon my parole that I would not attempt an escape; and I\nobtained also, which was a great favour, to have two hundred pieces of\neight allowed me out of the sale of my cargo for subsistence till I\ncould negotiate my affairs at Mexico. As for my men, they were\nmaintained as prisoners at the public charge.\nWell, after several months\u2019 solicitation and attendance, all I could\nobtain was the satisfaction of seeing my ship and cargo confiscated and\nmy poor sailors in a fair way to be sent to the mines. The last I\nbegged off, upon condition of paying three hundred pieces of eight for\ntheir ransom, and having them set on shore at Antigua, and myself to\nremain hostage for the payment of the said three hundred pieces of\neight, and for two hundred pieces of eight, which I had already had,\nand for five hundred pieces of eight more for my own ransom, if, upon a\nreturn from Mexico, the sentence of confiscation, as above, should be\nconfirmed by the viceroy.\nThese were hard articles indeed, but I was forced to submit to them;\nnor, as my circumstances were above all such matters as these, as to\nsubstance, did I lay it much to heart. The greatest difficulty that lay\nin my way was, that I knew not how to correspond with my friends in any\npart of the world, or which way to supply myself with necessaries or\nwith money for the payment I had agreed to, the Spaniards being so\ntenacious of their ports that they allowed nobody to come on shore, or\nindeed near the shore, from any part of the world, upon pain of seizure\nand confiscation, as had been my case already. Upon this difficulty I\nbegan to reason with the corregidore, and tell him that he put things\nupon us that were impossible, and that were inconsistent with the\ncustoms of nations; that, if a man was prisoner at Algiers, they would\nallow him to write to his friends to pay his ransom, and would admit\nthe person that brought it to come and go free as a public person, and\nif they did not, no treaty could be carried on for the ransom of a\nslave, nor the conditions be performed when they are agreed upon.\nI brought it then down to my own case, and desired to know, upon\nsupposition, that I might, within the time limited in that agreement,\nhave the sums of money ready for the ransom of my men and of myself,\nhow I should obtain to have notice given me of it, or how it should be\nbrought, seeing the very persons bringing that notice, or afterwards\npresuming to bring the money, might be liable to be seized and\nconfiscated, as I had been, and the money itself be taken as a second\nprize, without redeeming the first.\nThough this was so reasonable a request that it could not be withstood\nin point of argument, yet the Spaniard shrunk his head into his\nshoulders, and said they had not power sufficient to act in such a\ncase; that the king\u2019s laws were so severe against the suffering any\nstrangers to set their foot on his Catholic Majesty\u2019s dominions in\nAmerica, and they could not dispense with the least tittle of them\nwithout a particular _assiento_, as they called it, from the Consulado,\nor Chamber of Commerce, at Seville, or a command under the hand and\nseal of the viceroy of Mexico.\n\u201cHow! signior corregidore,\u201d said I, with some warmth, and, as it were,\nwith astonishment, \u201chave you not authority enough to sign a passport\nfor an agent, or ambassador, to come on shore here, from any of the\nking of Great Britain\u2019s governors in these parts, under a white flag,\nor flag of truce, to speak with the governor of this place, or with any\nother person in the king\u2019s name, on the subject of such business as the\ngovernor may have to communicate? Why,\u201d said I, \u201cif you cannot do that,\nyou cannot act according to the law of nations.\u201d\nHe shook his head, but still said no, he could not do even so much as\nthat; but here one of the military governors put in and opposed him,\nand they two differed warmly, the first insisting that their orders\nwere deficient in that particular; but the other said that, as they\nwere bound up to them, it could not be in their power to act otherwise,\nand that they were answerable for the ill consequences.\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d says the governor to the corregidore, \u201cnow you have kept\nthis Englishman as hostage for the ransom of the men that you have\ndismissed, suppose he tells you the money is ready, either at such, or\nsuch, or such a place, how shall he bring it hither? You will take all\nthe people prisoners that offer to bring it; what must he do? If you\nsay you will send and fetch it, what security shall he have that he\nshall have his liberty when it is paid you? and why should he trust you\nso far as to pay the money, and yet remain here a prisoner?\u201d\nThis carried so much reason with it that the corregidore knew not what\nto say, but that so was the law, and he could act no otherwise but by\nthe very letter of it; and here each was so positive that nothing could\ndetermine it but another express to be sent to the viceroy of Mexico.\nUpon this the governor was so kind as to say he would get me a passport\nfor anybody that should bring the money, and any vessel they were in,\nby his own authority, and for their safe returning, and taking me with\nthem, provided I would answer for it that they should bring no European\nor other goods whatever with them, and should not set foot on shore\nwithout his express permission, and provided he did not receive orders\nto the contrary, in the meantime, from any superior hand; and that,\neven in such a case, they should have liberty to go back freely from\nwhence they came, under the protection of a white flag.\nI bowed very respectfully to the governor in token of my acknowledging\nhis justice, and then presented my humble petition to him that he would\nallow my men to take their own sloop; that it should be rated at a\ncertain value, and would be obliged they should bring specie on board\nwith them, and that they should either pay it for the sloop or leave\nthe sloop again.\nThen he inquired to what country he would send them for so much money,\nand if I could assure him of the payment; and when he understood it was\nno farther than to Virginia he seemed very easy; and, to satisfy the\ncorregidore, who still stood off, adhering with a true Spanish\nstiffness to the letter of the law, the said governor calls out to me:\n\u201cSignior,\u201d says he, \u201cI shall make all this matter easy to you, if you\nagree to my proposal. Your men shall have the sloop, on condition you\nshall be my hostage for her return; but they shall not take her as your\nsloop, though she shall in the effect be yours on the payment of the\nmoney; but you shall take two of my men on board with you, upon your\nparole for their safe return, and when she returns she shall carry his\nCatholic Majesty\u2019s colours, and be entered as one of the sloops\nbelonging to the Havannah; one of the Spaniards to be commander, and to\nbe called by such a name as he shall appoint.\u201d\nThis the corregidore came into immediately, and said this was within\nthe letter, of the king\u2019s commanderie or precept; upon condition,\nhowever, that she should bring no European goods on board. I desired it\nmight be put in other words; namely, that she should bring no European\ngoods on shore. It cost two days\u2019 debate between these two whether it\nshould pass that no European goods should be brought in the ship or\nbrought on shore; but having found means to intimate that I meant not\nto trade there, but would not be tied from bringing a small present to\na certain person in acknowledgment of favours\u2014I say, after I had found\nroom to place such a hint right where it should be placed, I found it\nwas all made easy to me; and it was all agreed presently that, after\nthe ransom was paid, and the ship also bought, it was but reasonable\nthat I should have liberty to trade to any other country not in the\ndominions of the king of Spain, so to make up my losses; and that it\nwould be hard to oblige my men to bring away the vessel light, and so\nlose the voyage, and add so much to our former misfortunes; that, so\nlong as no goods were brought on shore in the country belonging to his\nCatholic Majesty\u2019s dominions, which was all that they had to defend,\nthe rest was no business of theirs.\nNow I began to see my way through this unhappy business, and to find,\nthat as money would bring me out of it, so money would bring it to turn\nto a good account another way. Wherefore I sent the sloop away under\nSpanish colours, and called her the _Nuestra Signiora de la Val de\nGrace_, commanded by Signior Giraldo de Nesma, one of the two\nSpaniards.\nWith the sloop I sent letters to my wife and to my chief manager with\norders to load her back, as I there directed, viz., that she should\nhave two hundred barrels of flour, fifty barrels of pease; and, to\nanswer my other views, I ordered a hundred bales to be made up of all\nsorts of European goods, such as not my own warehouses only would\nsupply, but such as they could be supplied with in other warehouses\nwhere I knew they had credit for anything.\nIn this cargo I directed all the richest and most valuable English\ngoods they had, or could get, whether linen, woollen, or silk, to be\nmade up; the coarser things, such as we use in Virginia for clothing of\nservants, such I ordered to be left behind for the use of the\nplantation. In less than seven weeks\u2019 time the sloop returned, and I,\nthat failed not every day to look out for her on the strand, was the\nfirst that spied her at sea at a distance, and knew her by her sails,\nbut afterwards more particularly by her signals.\nWhen she returned she came into the road with her Spanish ancient\nflying, and came to an anchor as directed; but I, that had seen her\nsome hours before, went directly to the governor and gave him an\naccount of her being come, and fain I would have obtained the favour to\nhave his excellency, as I called him, go on board in person, that he\nmight see how well his orders were executed. But he declined that,\nsaying he could not justify going off of the island, which was, in\nshort, to go out of his command of the fort, which he could not\nreassume without a new commission from the king\u2019s own hand.\nThen I asked leave to go on board myself, which he granted me; and I\nbrought on shore with me the full sum in gold which I had conditioned\nto pay for the ransom both of my men and myself, and for the purchase\nof the sloop; and as I obtained leave to land in a different place, so\nmy governor sent his son with six soldiers to receive and convey me\nwith the money to the castle, where he commanded, and therein to his\nown house. I had made up the money in heavy parcels, as if it had been\nall silver, and gave it to two of my men who belonged to the sloop,\nwith orders to them that they should make it seem, by their carrying\nit, to be much heavier than it was. This was done to conceal three\nparcels of goods which I had packed up with the money to make a present\nto the governor as I intended.\nWhen the money was carried in and laid down on a table, the governor\nordered my men to withdraw, and I gave the soldiers each of them a\npiece of eight to drink, for which they were very thankful, and the\ngovernor seemed well pleased with it also. Then I asked him presently\nif he would please to receive the money. He said no, he would not\nreceive it but in presence of the corregidore and the other people\nconcerned. Then I begged his excellency, as I called him, to give me\nleave to open the parcels in his presence, for that I would do myself\nthe honour to acknowledge his favours in the best manner I could.\nHe told me no, he could not see anything be brought on shore but the\nmoney; but, if I had brought anything on shore for my own use, he would\nnot be so strict as to inquire into that, so I might do what I pleased\nmyself.\nUpon that I went into the place, shut myself in, and having opened all\nthe things, placed them to my mind. There was five little parcels, as\nfollows:\u2014\n1, 2. A piece of twenty yards fine English broad cloth, five yards\nblack, five yards crimson, in one parcel; and the rest of fine mixtures\nin another parcel.\n3. A piece of thirty ells of fine Holland linen.\n4. A piece of eighteen yards of fine English brocaded silk.\n5. A piece of black Colchester bays.\nAfter I had placed these by themselves, I found means, with some\nseeming difficulties and much grimace, to bring him to know that this\nwas intended for a present to himself. After all that part was over,\nand he had seemed to accept them, he signified, after walking a hundred\nturns and more in the room by them, by throwing his hat, which was\nunder his arm, upon them, and making a very stiff bow; I say, after\nthis he seemed to take his leave of me for a while, and I waited in an\nouter room. When I was called in again, I found that he had looked over\nall the particulars, and caused them to be removed out of the place.\nBut when I came again I found him quite another man. He thanked me for\nmy present; told me it was a present fit to be given to a viceroy of\nMexico rather than to a mere governor of a fort; that he had done me no\nservices suitable to such a return, but that he would see if he could\nnot oblige me further before I left the place.\nAfter our compliments were over I obtained leave to have the\ncorregidore sent for, who accordingly came, and in his presence the\nmoney stipulated for the ransom of the ship and of the men was paid.\nBut here the corregidore showed that he would be as severely just on my\nside as on theirs, for he would not admit the money as a ransom for us\nas prisoners, but as a deposit for so much as we were to be ransomed\nfor if the sentence of our being made prisoners should be confirmed.\nAnd then the governor and corregidore, joining together, sent a\nrepresentation of the whole affair\u2014at least we were told so\u2014to the\nviceroy of Mexico; and it was privately hinted to me that I would do\nwell to stay for the return of the _aviso_\u2014that is, a boat which they\nsend over the bay to Vera Cruz with an express to Mexico, whose return\nis generally performed in two months.\nI was not unwilling to stay, having secret hints given me that I should\nfind some way to go with my sloop towards Vera Cruz myself, where I\nmight have an occasion to trade privately for the cargo which I had on\nboard. But it came about a nearer way; for, about two days after this\nmoney being deposited, as above, the governor\u2019s son invited himself on\nboard my sloop, where I told him I would be very glad to see him, and\nwhither, at the same time, he brought with him three considerable\nmerchants, Spaniards, two of them not inhabitants of the place.\nWhen they were on board they were very merry and pleasant, and I\ntreated them so much to their satisfaction that, in short, they were\nnot well able to go on shore for that night, but were content to take a\nnap on some carpets, which I caused to be spread for them; and that the\ngovernor\u2019s son might think himself well used, I brought him a very good\nsilk nightgown, with a crimson velvet cap, to lie down in, and in the\nmorning desired him to accept of them for his use, which he took very\nkindly.\nDuring that merry evening one of the merchants, not so touched with\ndrink as the young gentleman, nor so as not to mind what it was he came\nabout, takes an occasion to withdraw out of the great cabin and enter\ninto a parley with the master of the sloop in order to trade for what\nEuropean goods we had on board. The master took the hint, and gave me\nnotice of what had passed, and I gave him instructions what to say and\nwhat to do; according to which instructions they made but few words,\nbought the goods for about five thousand pieces of eight, and carried\nthem away themselves, and at their own hazards.\nThis was very agreeable to me, for now I began to see I should lick\nmyself whole by the sale of this cargo, and should make myself full\namends of Jack Spaniard for all the injuries he had done me in the\nfirst of these things. With this view I gave my master or captain of\nthe sloop instructions for sale of all the rest of the goods, and left\nhim to manage by himself, which he did so well that he sold the whole\ncargo the next day to the three Spaniards; with this additional\ncircumstance, that they desired the sloop might carry the goods, as\nthey were on board, to such part of the _terra firma_ as they should\nappoint between the Honduras and the coast of La Vera Cruz.\nIt was difficult for me to make good this part of the bargain, but\nfinding the price agreed for would very well answer the voyage, I\nconsented. But then how to send the sloop away and remain among the\nSpaniards when I was now a clear man, this was a difficulty too, as it\nwas also to go away, and not wait for a favourable answer from the\nviceroy of Mexico to the representation of the governor and the\ncorregidore. However, at last I resolved to go in the sloop, fall out\nwhat would; so I went to the governor and represented to him that,\nbeing now to expect a favourable answer from Mexico, it would be a\ngreat loss to me to keep the sloop there all the while, and I desired\nhis leave for me to go with the sloop to Antigua to sell and dispose of\nthe cargo, which he well knew I was obliged not to bring on shore there\nat the Havannah, and which would be in danger of being spoiled by lying\nso long on board. This I obtained readily, with license to come again\ninto the road, and, for myself only, to come on shore in order to hear\nthe viceroy\u2019s pleasure in my case, which was depending.\nHaving thus obtained a license or passport for the sloop and myself, I\nput to sea with the three Spanish merchants on board with me. They told\nme they did not live at the Havannah, but it seems one of them did; and\nsome rich merchants of the Havannah, or of the parts thereabouts in the\nsame island, were concerned with them, for they brought on board, that\nnight we put to sea, a great sum of money in pieces of eight; and, as I\nunderstood afterwards, that these merchants bought the cargo of me, and\nthough they gave me a very great price for everything, yet that they\nsold them again to the merchants, who they procured on the coast of La\nVera Cruz, at a prodigious advantage, so that they got above a hundred\nper cent, after I had gained very sufficiently before.\nWe sailed from the Havannah directly for Vera Cruz. I scrupled\nventuring into the port at first, and was very uneasy lest I should\nhave another Spanish trick put upon me; but as we sailed under Spanish\ncolours, they showed us such authentic papers from the proper officers\nthat there was no room to fear anything.\nHowever, when we came in sight of the Spanish coast, I found they had a\nsecret clandestine trade to carry on, which, though it was secret, yet\nthey knew the way of it so well that it was but a mere road to them.\nThe case was this: we stood in close under the shore in the night,\nabout six leagues to the north of the port, where two of the three\nmerchants went on shore in the boat, and in three hours or there abouts\nthey came on board again with five canoes and seven or eight merchants\nmore with them, and as soon as they were on board we stood off to sea,\nso that by daylight we were quite out of sight of land.\nI ought to have mentioned before that as soon as we were put to sea\nfrom the Havannah, and during our voyage into the Gulf of Mexico, which\nwas eight days, we rummaged the whole cargo, and opening every bale as\nfar as the Spanish merchants desired, we trafficked with them for the\nwhole cargo, except the barrels of flour and pease.\nThis cargo was considerable in itself, for my wife\u2019s account or\ninvoice, drawn out by my tutor and manager, amounted to \u00a32684, 10s.,\nand I sold the whole, including what had been sold in the evening, when\nthey were on board first, as I have said, for thirty-eight thousand\nfive hundred and ninety-three pieces of eight, and they allowed me\ntwelve hundred pieces of eight for the freight of the sloop, and made\nmy master and the seamen very handsome presents besides; and they were\nwell able to do this too, as you shall hear presently.\nAfter we were gotten out of sight of land the Spaniards fell to their\ntraffic, and our three merchants opened their shop, as they might say,\nfor it was their shop. As to me, I had nothing to do with it or with\ntheir goods. They drove their bargain in a few hours, and at night we\nstood in again for the shore, when the five canoes carried a great part\nof the goods on shore, and brought the money back in specie, as well\nfor that they carried as for all the rest, and at their second voyage\ncarried all away clear, leaving me nothing on board but my barrels of\nflour and pease, which they bade me money for too, but not so much as I\nexpected.\nHere I found that my Spanish merchants made above seventy thousand\npieces of eight of the cargo I had sold them, upon which I had a great\nmind to be acquainted with those merchants on the _terra firma_, who\nwere the last customers; for it presently occurred to me that I could\neasily go with a sloop from Virginia, and taking a cargo directed on\npurpose from England of about \u00a35000 or \u00a36000, I might easily make four\nof one. With this view I began to make a kind of an acquaintance with\nthe Spaniards which came in the canoes, and we became so intimate that\nat last, with the consent of the three Spaniards of the Havannah, I\naccepted an invitation on shore to their house, which was a little\nvilla, or rather plantation, where they had an _ingenio_, that is to\nsay, a sugar-house, or sugar-work, and there they treated us like\nprinces.\nI took occasion at this invitation to say that, if I knew how to find\nmy way thither again, I could visit them once or twice a year, very\nmuch to their advantage and mine too. One of the Spaniards took the\nhint, and taking me into a room by myself, \u201cSeignior,\u201d says he, \u201cif you\nhave any thoughts of coming to this place again, I shall give you such\ndirections as you shall be sure not to mistake; and, upon either coming\non shore in the night and coming up to this place, or upon making the\nsignals which we shall give you, we will not fail to come off to you,\nand bring money enough for any _cargaison_\u201d (so they call it) \u201cthat you\nshall bring.\u201d\nI took all their directions, took their paroles of honour for my\nsafety, and, without taking any notice to my first three merchants,\nlaid up the rest in my most secret thoughts, resolving to visit them\nagain in as short a time as I could; and thus having, in about five\ndays, finished all our merchandising, we stood off to sea, and made for\nthe island of Cuba, where I set my three Spaniards on shore with all\ntheir treasure, to their heart\u2019s content, and made the best of my way\nto Antigua, where, with all the despatch I could, I sold my two hundred\nbarrels of flour, which, however, had suffered a little by the length\nof the voyage; and having laden the sloop with rum, molasses, and\nsugar, I set sail again for the Havannah.\nI was now uneasy indeed, for fear of the pirates, for I was a rich\nship, having, besides goods, near forty thousand pieces of eight in\nsilver.\nWhen I came back to the Havannah, I went on shore to wait on the\ngovernor and the corregidore, and to hear what return was had from the\nviceroy, and had the good fortune to know that the viceroy had\ndisallowed that part of the sentence which condemned us as prisoners\nand put a ransom on us, which he insisted could not be but in time of\nopen war. But as to the confiscation, he deferred it to the Chamber or\nCouncil of Commerce at Seville, and the appeal to the king, if such be\npreferred.\nThis was, in some measure, a very good piece of justice in the viceroy;\nfor, as we had not been on shore, we could not be legally imprisoned;\nand for the rest, I believe if I would have given myself the trouble to\nhave gone to Old Spain, and have preferred my claim to both the ship\nand the cargo, I had recovered them also.\nHowever, as it was, I was now a freeman without ransom, and my men were\nalso free, so that all the money which I had deposited, as above, was\nreturned me; and thus I took my leave of the Havannah, and made the\nbest of my way for Virginia, where I arrived after a year and a half\u2019s\nabsence; and notwithstanding all my losses, came home above forty\nthousand pieces of eight richer than I went out.\nAs to the old affair about the Preston prisoners, that was quite at an\nend, for the general pardon passed in Parliament made me perfectly\neasy, and I took no more thought about that part. I might here very\nusefully observe how necessary and inseparable a companion fear is to\nguilt. It was but a few months before that the face of a poor Preston\ntransport would have frighted me out of my wits; to avoid them I\nfeigned myself sick, and wrapped my legs in flannel, as if I had the\ngout; whereas now they were no more surprise to me, nor was I any more\nuneasy to see them, than I was to see any other of the servants of the\nplantations.\nAnd that which was more particular than all was, that, though before I\nfancied every one of them would know me and remember me, and\nconsequently betray and accuse me, now, though I was frequently among\nthem, and saw most of them, if not all of them, one time or other, nay,\nthough I remembered several of their faces, and even some of their\nnames, yet there was not a man of them that ever took the least notice\nof me, or of having known or seen me before.\nIt would have been a singular satisfaction to me if I could have known\nso much as this of them before, and have saved me all the fatigue,\nhazard, and misfortune that befell me afterwards; but man, a short\nsighted creature, sees so little before him that he can neither\nanticipate his joys nor prevent his disasters, be they ever so little a\ndistance from him.\nI had now my head full of my West India project, and I began to make\nprovision for it accordingly. I had a full account of what European\ngoods were most acceptable in New Spain; and, to add to my speed, I\nknew that the Spaniards were in great want of European goods, the\ngalleons from Old Spain having been delayed to an unusual length of\ntime for the two years before. Upon this account, not having time, as I\nthought, to send to England for a cargo of such goods as were most\nproper, I resolved to load my sloop with tobacco and rum, the last I\nbrought from Antigua, and go away to Boston in New England, and to New\nYork, and see if I could pick up a cargo to my mind.\nAccordingly, I took twenty thousand pieces of eight in money, and my\nsloop laden as above, and taking my wife with me, we went away. It was\nan odd and new thing at New England to have such a quantity of goods\nbought up there by a sloop from Virginia, and especially to be paid for\nin ready money, as I did for most of my goods; and this set all the\ntrading heads upon the stretch, to inquire what and who I was; to which\nthey had an immediate and direct answer, that I was a very considerable\nplanter in Virginia, and that was all any of my men on board the sloop\ncould tell of me, and enough too.\nWell, it was the cause of much speculation among them, as I heard at\nsecond and third hands. Some said, \u201cHe is certainly going to Jamaica;\u201d\nothers said, \u201cHe is going to trade with the Spaniards;\u201d others that \u201cHe\nis going to the South Sea and turn half merchant, half pirate, on the\ncoast of Chili and Peru;\u201d some one thing, some another, as the men\ngossips found their imaginations directed; but we went on with our\nbusiness, and laid out twelve thousand pieces of eight, besides our\ncargo of rum and tobacco, and went from thence to New York, where we\nlaid out the rest.\nThe chief of the cargo we bought here was fine English broadcloth,\nserges, druggets, Norwich stuffs, bays, says, and all kinds of woollen\nmanufactures, as also linen of all sorts, a very great quantity, and\nnear \u00a31000 in fine silks of several sorts. Being thus freighted, I came\nback safe to Virginia, and with very little addition to my cargo, began\nto prepare for my West India voyage.\nI should have mentioned that I had built upon my sloop and raised her a\nlittle, so that I had made her carry twelve guns, and fitted her up for\ndefence; for I thought she should not be attacked and boarded by a few\nSpanish _barco longos_, as she was before; and I found the benefit of\nit afterwards, as you shall hear.\nWe set sail the beginning of August, and as I had twice been attacked\nby pirates in passing the Gulf of Florida, or among the Bahama Islands,\nI resolved, though it was farther about, to stand off to sea, and so\nkeep, as I believed it would be, out of the way of them.\nWe passed the tropic, as near as we could guess, just where the famous\nSir William Phipps fished up the silver from the Spanish plate wreck,\nand, standing in between the islands, kept our course W. by S., keeping\nunder the isle of Cuba, and so running away, trade, as they call it,\ninto the great Gulf of Mexico, leaving the island of Jamaica to the S.\nand S.E., by this means avoiding, as I thought, all the Spaniards of\nCuba or the Havannah.\nAs we passed the west point of Cuba three Spanish boats came off to\nboard us, as they had done before, on the other side of the island. But\nthey found themselves mistaken; we were too many for them, for we run\nout our guns, which they did not perceive before, and firing three or\nfour shots at them, they retired.\nThe next morning they appeared again, being five large boats and a\nbarque, and gave us chase; but we then spread our Spanish colours, and\nbrought to to fight them, at which they retired; so we escaped this\ndanger by the addition of force which we had made to our vessel.\nWe now had a fair run for our port, and as I had taken very good\ndirections, I stood away to the north of St. John d\u2019Ulva, and then\nrunning in for the shore, found the place appointed exactly; and going\non shore, I sent the master of my sloop directly to the _ingenio_,\nwhere he found the Spanish merchant at his house, and where he dwelt\nlike a sovereign prince, who welcomed him, and understanding that I was\nin a particular boat at the creek, as appointed, he came immediately\nwith him, and bringing another Spaniard from a villa not far off, in\nabout four hours they were with me.\nThey would have persuaded me to go up to their houses and have stayed\nthere till the next night, ordering the sloop to stand off as usual,\nbut I would not consent to let the sloop go to sea without me, so we\nwent on board directly, and, as the night was almost run, stood off to\nsea; so by daybreak we were quite out of sight of land.\nHere we began, as I said before, to open shop, and I found the\nSpaniards were extremely surprised at seeing such a cargo\u2014I mean so\nlarge; for, in short, they had cared not if it had been four times as\nmuch. They soon ran through the contents of all the bales we opened\nthat night, and, with very little dispute about the price, they\napproved and accepted all that I showed them; but as they said they had\nnot money for any greater parcel, they agreed to go on shore the next\nevening for more money.\nHowever, we spent the remainder of the night in looking over and making\ninventories or invoices of the rest of the cargo, that so they might\nsee the goods, know the value, and know what more money they had to\nbring.\narrival announced Colonel Jacque\u2019s arrival is announced\nAccordingly, in the evening we stood in for the shore, and they carried\npart of the cargo with them, borrowing the sloop\u2019s boat to assist them;\nand after they had lodged and landed the goods they came on board\nagain, bringing three of the other merchants with them who were\nconcerned before, and money enough to clear the whole ship\u2014ay, and ship\nand all, if I had been willing to sell her.\nTo give them their due, they dealt with me like men of honour. They\nwere indeed sensible that they bought everything much cheaper of me\nthan they did before of the three merchants of the Havannah, these\nmerchants having been, as it were, the hucksters, and bought them first\nof me, and then advanced, as I have said, above one hundred per cent,\nupon the price they gave me. But yet, at the same time, I advanced in\nthe price much more now than I did before to the said Spaniards; nor\nwas it without reason, because of the length and risk of the voyage,\nboth out and home, which now lay wholly upon me.\nIn short, I sold the whole cargo to them, and for which I received near\ntwo hundred thousand pieces of eight in money; besides which, when they\ncame on board the second time, they brought all their boats loaden with\nfresh provisions, hogs, sheep, fowls, sweetmeats, &c., enough for my\nwhole voyage, all which they made a present of to me. And thus we\nfinished our traffic to our mutual satisfaction, and parted with\npromises of further commerce, and with assurances on their part of all\nacts of friendship and assistance that I could desire if any disaster\nshould befall me in any of these adventures\u2014as indeed was not\nimprobable, considering the strictness and severity of their customs in\ncase any people were trading upon their coast.\nI immediately called a council with my little crew which way we should\ngo back. The mate was for beating it up to windward and getting up to\nJamaica; but as we were too rich to run any risks, and were to take the\nbest course to get safe home, I thought, and so did the master of the\nsloop, that our best way was to coast about the bay, and, keeping the\nshore of Florida on board, make the shortest course to the gulf, and so\nmake for the coast of Carolina, and to put in there into the first port\nwe could, and wait for any English men-of-war that might be on the\ncoast to secure us to the capes.\nThis was the b\u2014-est course we could take, and proved very safe to us,\nexcepting that, about the cape of Florida, and on the coast in the\ngulf, till we came to the height of St. Augustine, we were several\ntimes visited with the Spaniards\u2019 _barco longos_ and small barks, in\nhopes of making a prize of us; but carrying Spanish colours deceived\nmost of them, and a good tier of guns kept the rest at a distance, so\nthat we came safe, though once or twice in danger of being run on shore\nby a storm of wind\u2014I say, we came safe into Charles River in Carolina.\nFrom hence I found means to send a letter home, with an account to my\nwife of my good success; and having an account that the coast was clear\nof pirates, though there were no men-of-war in the place, I ventured\nforward, and, in short, got safe into the Bay of Chesapeake, that is to\nsay, within the capes of Virginia, and in a few days more to my own\nhouse, having been absent three months and four days.\nNever did any vessel on this side the world make a better voyage in so\nshort a time that I made in this sloop; for by the most moderate\ncomputation I cleared in these three months \u00a325,000 sterling in ready\nmoney, all the charges of the voyages to New England also being\nreckoned up.\nNow was my time to have sat still, contented with what I had got, if it\nwas in the power of man to know when his good fortune was at the\nhighest. And more, my prudent wife gave it as her opinion that I should\nsit down satisfied and push the affair no farther, and earnestly\npersuaded me to do so. But I, that had a door open, as I thought, to\nimmense treasure, that had found the way to have a stream of the golden\nrivers of Mexico flow into my plantation of Virginia, and saw no\nhazards more than what were common to all such things in the\nprosecution\u2014I say, to me these things looked with another face, and I\ndreamed of nothing but millions and hundreds of thousands; so, contrary\nto all moderate measures, I pushed on for another voyage, and laid up a\nstock of all sorts of goods that I could get together proper for the\ntrade. I did not indeed go again to New England, for I had by this time\na very good cargo come from England pursuant to a commission I had sent\nseveral months before; so that, in short, my cargo, according to the\ninvoice now made out, amounted to above \u00a310,000 sterling first cost,\nand was a cargo so sorted and so well bought that I expected to have\nadvanced upon them much more in proportion than I had done in the cargo\nbefore.\nWith these expectations we began our second voyage in April, being\nabout five months after our return from the first. We had not indeed\nthe same good speed, even in our beginning, as we had at first; for\nthough we stood off to sea about sixty leagues in order to be out of\nthe way of the pirates, yet we had not been above five days at sea but\nwe were visited and rifled by two pirate barks, who, being bound to the\nnorthward, that is to say, the banks of Newfoundland, took away all our\nprovisions and all our ammunition and small arms, and left us very ill\nprovided to pursue our voyage; and it being so near home, we thought it\nadvisable to come about and stand in for the capes again, to restore\nour condition and furnish ourselves with stores of all kinds for our\nvoyage. This took us up about ten days, and we put to sea again. As for\nour cargo, the pirates did not meddle with it, being all bale goods,\nwhich they had no present use for, and knew not what to do with if they\nhad them.\nWe met with no other adventure worth naming till, by the same course\nthat we had steered before, we came into the Gulf of Mexico; and the\nfirst misfortune we met with here was, that, on the back of Cuba,\ncrossing towards the point of the _terra firma_, on the coast of\nYucatan, we had sight of the flota of New Spain, that is, of the ships\nwhich come from Carthagena or Porto Bello, and go to the Havannah, in\norder to pursue their voyage to Europe.\nThey had with them one Spanish man-of-war and three frigates. Two of\nthe frigates gave us chase; but, it being just at the shutting in of\nthe day, we soon lost sight of them, and standing to the north, across\nthe Bay of Mexico, as if we were going to the mouth of Mississippi,\nthey lost us quite, and in a few days more we made the bottom of the\nbay, being the port we were bound for.\nWe stood in as usual in the night, and gave notice to our friends; but\ninstead of their former readiness to come on board, they gave us notice\nthat we had been seen in the bay, and that notice of us was given at\nVera Cruz and at other places, and that several frigates were in quest\nof us, and that three more would be cruising the next morning in search\nfor us. We could not conceive how this could be; but we were afterwards\ntold that those three frigates, having lost sight of us in the night,\nhad made in for the shore, and had given the alarm of us as of\nprivateers.\nBe that as it would, we had nothing to do but to consider what course\nto take immediately. The Spanish merchant\u2019s advice was very good if we\nhad taken it, namely, to have unladen as many of our bales as we could\nthat very night by the help of our boat and their canoes, and to make\nthe best of our way in the morning to the north of the gulf, and take\nour fate.\nThis my skipper or master thought very well of, but when we began to\nput it into execution, we were so confused and in such a hurry, being\nnot resolved what course to take, that we could not get out above\nsixteen bales of all sorts of goods before it began to be too light and\nit behoved us to sail. At last the master proposed a medium, which was,\nthat I should go on shore in the next boat, in which were five bales of\ngoods more, and that I should stay on shore if the Spanish merchants\nwould undertake to conceal me, and let them go to sea and take their\nchance.\nThe Spanish merchants readily undertook to protect me, especially it\nbeing so easy to have me pass for a natural Spaniard, and so they took\nme on shore with twenty-one bales of my goods, and the sloop stood off\nto sea. If they met with any enemies they were to stand in for the\nshore the next night; and we failed not to look well out for them, but\nto no purpose, for the next day they were discovered and chased by two\nSpanish frigates. They stood from them, and the sloop, being an\nexcellent sailer, gained so much that they would certainly have been\nclear of them when night came on, but a small picaroon of a sloop kept\nthem company in spite of all they could do, and two or three times\noffered to engage them, thereby to give time to the rest to come up;\nbut the sloop kept her way, and gave them a chase of three days and\nnights, having a fresh gale of wind at S.W., till she made the Rio\nGrand, or, as the French call it, the Mississippi, and there finding no\nremedy, they ran the vessel on shore not far from the fort which the\nSpaniards call Pensacola, garrisoned at that time with French. Our men\nwould have entered the river as a port, but having no pilot, and the\ncurrent of the river being strong against them, the sloop ran on shore,\nand the men shifted as well as they could in their boats.\nI was now in a very odd condition indeed. My circumstances were in one\nsense, indeed, very happy\u2014namely, that I was in the hands of my\nfriends, for such really they were, and so faithful that no men could\nhave been more careful of their own safety than were they of mine; and\nthat which added to the comfort of my new condition was the produce of\nmy goods, which were gotten on shore by their own advice and direction,\nwhich was a fund sufficient to maintain me with them as long as I could\nbe supposed to stay there; and if not, the first merchant to whose\nhouse I went assured me that he would give me credit for twenty\nthousand pieces of eight if I had occasion for it.\nMy greatest affliction was, that I knew not how to convey news to my\nwife of my present condition, and how, among many misfortunes of the\nvoyage, I was yet safe and in good hands.\nBut there was no remedy for this part but the great universal cure of\nall incurable sorrows, viz., patience; and, indeed, I had a great deal\nof reason, not for patience only, but thankfulness, if I had known the\ncircumstances which I should have been reduced to if I had fallen into\nthe hands of the Spaniards; the best of which that I could reasonably\nhave expected had been to have been sent to the mines, or, which was\nten thousand times worse, the Inquisition; or, if I had escaped the\nSpaniards, as my men in the sloop did, the hardships they were exposed\nto, the dangers they were in, and the miseries they suffered were still\nworse in wandering among savages, and the more savage French, who\nplundered and stripped them, instead of relieving and supplying them in\ntheir long wilderness journey over the mountains till they reached the\nS.W. parts of South Carolina, a journey which, indeed, deserves to have\nan account to be given of it by itself. I say, all these things, had I\nknown of them, would have let me see that I had a great deal of reason,\nnot only to be patient under my present circumstances, but satisfied\nand thankful.\nHere, as I said, my patron, the merchant, entertained me like a prince;\nhe made my safety his peculiar care, and while we were in any\nexpectation of the sloop being taken and brought into Vera Cruz, he\nkept me retired at a little house in a wood, where he kept a fine\naviary of all sorts of American birds, and out of which he yearly sent\nsome as presents to his friends in Old Spain.\nThis retreat was necessary lest, if the sloop should be taken and\nbrought into Vera Cruz, and the men be brought in prisoners, they\nshould be tempted to give an account of me as their supercargo or\nmerchant, and where both I and the twenty-one bales of goods were set\non shore. As for the goods, he made sure work with them, for they were\nall opened, taken out of the bales, and separated, and, being mixed\nwith other European goods which came by the galleons, were made up in\nnew package, and sent to Mexico in several parcels, some to one\nmerchant, some to another, so that it was impossible to have found them\nout, even if they had had information of them.\nIn this posture, and in apprehension of some bad news of the sloop, I\nremained at the villa, or house in the vale\u2014for so they called it\u2014about\nfive weeks. I had two negroes appointed to wait on me, one of which was\nmy purveyor, or my cook, the other my valet; and my friend, the master\nof all, came constantly every evening to visit and sup with me, when we\nwalked out together into the aviary, which was, of its kind, the most\nbeautiful thing that ever I saw in the world.\nAfter above five weeks\u2019 retreat of this kind, he had good intelligence\nof the fate of the sloop, viz., that the two frigates and a sloop had\nchased her till she ran on ground near the fort of Pensacola; that they\nsaw her stranded and broke in pieces by the force of the waves, the men\nmaking their escape in their boat. This news was brought, it seems, by\nthe said frigates to La Vera Cruz, where my friend went on purpose to\nbe fully informed, and received the account from one of the captains of\nthe frigates, and discoursed with him at large about it.\nI was better pleased with the loss of the sloop and all my cargo, the\nmen being got on shore and escaping, than I should have been with the\nsaving the whole cargo, if the men had fallen into the hands of the\nSpaniards; for now I was safe, whereas then, it being supposed they\nwould have been forced to some discovery about me, I must have fled,\nand should have found it very difficult to have made my escape, even\nwith all that my friends could have done for me too.\nBut now I was perfectly easy, and my friend, who thought confining me\nat the house in the vale no longer needful, brought me publicly home to\nhis dwelling-house, as a merchant come from Old Spain by the last\ngalleons, and who, having been at Mexico, was come to reside with him.\nHere I was dressed like a Spaniard of the better sort, had three\nnegroes to attend me, and was called Don Ferdinand de Villa Moresa, in\nCastilia Feja\u2014that is to say, in Old Castile.\nHere I had nothing to do but to walk about and ride out into the woods,\nand come home again to enjoy the pleasantest and most agreeable\nretirement in the world; for certainly no men in the world live in such\nsplendour and wallow in such immense treasures as the merchants of this\nplace.\nThey live, as I have said, in a kind of country retreat at their\nvillas, or, as we would call them in Virginia, their plantations, and,\nas they do call them, their _ingenios_, where they make their indigo\nand their sugars. But they have also houses and warehouses at Vera\nCruz, where they go twice a year, when the galleons arrive from Old\nSpain, and when those galleons relade for their return. And it was\nsurprising to me, when I went to La Vera Cruz with them, to see what\nprodigious consignments they had from their correspondents in Old\nSpain, and with what despatch they managed them; for no sooner were the\ncases, packs, and bales of European goods brought into their warehouses\nbut they were opened and repacked by porters and packers of their\nown\u2014that is to say, negroes and Indian servants\u2014and being made up into\nnew bales and separate parcels, were all despatched again by horses for\nMexico, and directed to their several merchants there, and the\nremainder carried home, as above, to the _ingenio_ where they lived,\nwhich was near thirty English miles from Vera Cruz, so that in about\ntwenty days their warehouses were again entirely free. At La Vera Cruz,\nall their business was over there, and they and all their servants\nretired; for they stayed no longer there than needs must, because of\nthe unhealthiness of the air.\nAfter the goods were thus despatched, it was equally surprising to see\nhow soon, and with what exactness, the merchants of Mexico to whom\nthose cargoes were separately consigned made the return, and how it\ncame all in silver or in gold, so that their warehouses in a few months\nwere piled up, even to the ceiling, with chests of pieces of eight and\nwith bars of silver.\nIt is impossible to describe in the narrow compass of this work with\nwhat exactness and order, and yet with how little hurry, and not the\nleast confusion, everything was done, and how soon a weight of business\nof such importance and value was negotiated and finished, the goods\nrepacked, invoices made, and everything despatched and gone; so that in\nabout five weeks all the goods they had received from Europe by the\ngalleons were disposed of and entered in their journals to the proper\naccount of their merchant to whom they were respectively consigned;\nfrom thence they had book-keepers who drew out the invoices and wrote\nthe letters, which the merchant himself only read over and signed, and\nthen other hands copied all again into other books.\nI can give no estimate of the value of the several consignments they\nreceived by that flota; but I remember that, when the galleons went\nback, they shipped on board, at several times, one million three\nhundred thousand pieces of eight in specie, besides a hundred and\neighty bales or bags of cochineal and about three hundred bales of\nindigo; but they were so modest that they said this was for themselves\nand their friends. That is to say, the several merchants of Mexico\nconsigned large quantities of bullion to them, to ship on board and\nconsign according to their order; but then I know also that, for all\nthat, they were allowed commission, so that their gain was very\nconsiderable even that way also.\nI had been with them at La Vera Cruz, and came back again before we\ncame to an account for the goods which I had brought on shore in the\ntwenty-one bales, which, by the account we brought them to (leaving a\npiece of everything to be governed by our last market), amounted to\neight thousand five hundred and seventy pieces of eight, all which\nmoney my friend\u2014for so I must now call him\u2014brought me in specie, and\ncaused his negroes to pile them up in one corner of my apartment; so\nthat I was indeed still very rich, all things considered.\nThere was a bale which I had caused to be packed up on purpose in\nVirginia, and which indeed I had written for from England, being\nchiefly of fine English broadcloths, silk, silk druggets, and fine\nstuffs of several kinds, with some very fine hollands, which I set\napart for presents, as I should find occasion; and as, whatever hurry I\nwas in at carrying the twenty-one bales of goods on shore, I did not\nforget to let this bale be one of them, so, when we came to a sale for\nthe rest, I told them that this was a pack with clothes and necessaries\nfor my own wearing and use, and so desired it might not be opened with\nthe rest, which was accordingly observed, and that bale or pack was\nbrought into my apartment.\nThis bale was, in general, made up of several smaller bales, which I\nhad directed, so that I might have room to make presents, equally\nsorted as the circumstance might direct me. However, they were all\nconsiderable, and I reckoned the whole bale cost me near \u00a3200 sterling\nin England; and though my present circumstances required some limits to\nmy bounty in making presents, yet the obligation I was under being so\nmuch the greater, especially to this one friendly, generous Spaniard, I\nthought I could not do better than, by opening two of the smaller\nbales, join them together, and make my gift some thing suitable to the\nbenefactor, and to the respect he had shown me. Accordingly, I took two\nbales, and, laying the goods together, the contents were as follows:\u2014\nTwo pieces of fine English broadcloth, the finest that could be got in\nLondon, divided, as was that which I gave to the governor at the\nHavannah, into fine crimson in grain, fine light mixtures, and fine\nblack.\nFour pieces of fine holland, of 7s. to 8s. per ell in London.\nTwelve pieces of fine silk drugget and duroys, for men\u2019s wear.\nSix pieces of broad silks, two damasks, two brocaded silks, and two\nmantuas.\nWith a box of ribands and a box of lace; the last cost about \u00a340\nsterling in England.\nThis handsome parcel I laid open in my apartment, and brought him\nupstairs one morning, on pretence to drink chocolate with me, which he\nordinarily did; when, as we drank chocolate and was merry, I said to\nhim, though I had sold him almost all my cargo and taken his money, yet\nthe truth was, that I ought not to have sold them to him, but to have\nlaid them all at his feet, for that it was to his direction I owed the\nhaving anything saved at all.\nHe smiled, and, with a great deal of friendship in his face, told me\nthat not to have paid me for them would have been to have plundered a\nshipwreck, which had been worse than to have robbed an hospital.\nAt last I told him I had two requests to make to him, which must not be\ndenied. I told him I had a small present to make him, which I would\ngive him a reason why he should not refuse to accept; and the second\nrequest I would make after the first was granted. He said he would have\naccepted my present from me if I had not been under a disaster, but as\nit was it would be cruel and ungenerous. But I told him he was obliged\nto hear my reason for his accepting it. Then I told him that this\nparcel was made up for him by name by my wife and I in Virginia, and\nhis name set on the marks of the bale, and accordingly I showed him the\nmarks, which was indeed on one of the bales, but I had doubled it now,\nas above, so that I told him these were his own proper goods; and, in\nshort, I pressed him so to receive them that he made a bow; and I said\nno more, but ordered my negro, that is to say, his negro that waited on\nme, to carry them all, except the two boxes, into his apartments, but\nwould not let him see the particulars till they were all carried away.\nAfter he was gone about a quarter of an hour, he came in raving and\nalmost swearing, and in a great passion, but I could easily see he was\nexceedingly pleased; and told me, had he known the particulars, he\nwould never have suffered them to have gone as he did, and at last used\nthe very same compliment that the governor at the Havannah used, viz.,\nthat it was a present fit for a viceroy of Mexico rather than for him.\nWhen he had done, he then told me he remembered I had two requests to\nhim, and that one was not to be told till after the first was granted,\nand he hoped now I had something to ask of him that was equal to the\nobligation I laid upon him.\nI told him I knew it was not the custom in Spain for a stranger to make\npresents to the ladies, and that I would not in the least doubt but\nthat, whatever the ladies of his family required as proper for their\nuse, he would appropriate to them as he thought fit; but that there\nwere two little boxes in the parcel which my wife with her own hand had\ndirected to the ladies; and I begged he would be pleased with his own\nhand to give them in my wife\u2019s name, as directed; that I was only the\nmessenger, but that I could not be honest if I did not discharge myself\nof the trust reposed in me.\nThese were the two boxes of ribands and lace, which, knowing the nicety\nof the ladies in Spain, or rather of the Spaniards about their women, I\nhad made my wife pack up, and directed with her own hand, as I have\nsaid.\nHe smiled, and told me it was true the Spaniards did not ordinarily\nadmit so much freedom among the women as other nations; but he hoped,\nhe said, I would not think the Spaniards thought all their women\nwhores, or that all Spaniards were jealous of their wives; that, as to\nmy present, since he had agreed to accept of it, I should have the\ndirection of what part I pleased to his wife and daughters; for he had\nthree daughters.\nHere I strained courtesies again, and told him by no means; I would\ndirect nothing of that kind. I only begged that he would with his own\nhand present to his donna, or lady, the present designed her by my\nwife, and that he would present it in her name, now living in Virginia.\nHe was extremely pleased with the nicety I used; and I saw him present\nit to her accordingly, and could see, at the opening of it, that she\nwas extremely pleased with the present itself, as indeed might very\nwell be, for in that country it was worth a very considerable sum of\nmoney.\nThough I was used with an uncommon friendship before, and nothing could\nwell be desired more, yet the grateful sense I showed of it in the\nmagnificence of this present was not lost, and the whole family\nappeared sensible of it; so that I must allow that presents, where they\ncan be made in such a manner, are not without their influence, where\nthe persons were not at all mercenary either before or after.\nI had here now a most happy and comfortable retreat, though it was a\nkind of an exile. Here I enjoyed everything I could think of that was\nagreeable and pleasant, except only a liberty of going home, which, for\nthat reason perhaps, was the only thing I desired in the world; for the\ngrief of one absent comfort is oftentimes capable of embittering all\nthe other enjoyments in the world.\nHere I enjoyed the moments which I had never before known how to\nemploy\u2014I mean that here I learned to look back upon a long ill-spent\nlife, blessed with infinite advantage, which I had no heart given me\ntill now to make use of, and here I found just reflections were the\nutmost felicity of human life.\nHere I wrote these memoirs, having to add to the pleasure of looking\nback with due reflections the benefit of a violent fit of the gout,\nwhich, as it is allowed by most people, clears the head, restores the\nmemory, and qualifies us to make the most, and just, and useful remarks\nupon our own actions.\nPerhaps when I wrote these things down I did not foresee that the\nwritings of our own stories would be so much the fashion in England, or\nso agreeable to others to read, as I find custom and the humour of the\ntimes has caused it to be. If any one that reads my story pleases to\nmake the same just reflections which I acknowledge I ought to have\nmade, he will reap the benefit of my misfortunes perhaps more than I\nhave done myself. \u2019Tis evident by the long series of changes and turns\nwhich have appeared in the narrow compass of one private, mean person\u2019s\nlife, that the history of men\u2019s lives may be many ways made useful and\ninstructing to those who read them, if moral and religious improvement\nand reflections are made by those that write them.\nThere remains many things in the course of this unhappy life of mine,\nthough I have left so little a part of it to speak of, that is worth\ngiving a large and distinct account of, and which gives room for just\nreflections of a kind which I have not made yet. Particularly, I think\nit just to add how, in collecting the various changes and turns in my\naffairs, I saw clearer than ever I had done before how an invincible\noverruling Power, a hand influenced from above, governs all our actions\nof every kind, limits all our designs, and orders the events of\neverything relating to us.\nAnd from this observation it necessarily occurred to me how just it was\nthat we should pay the homage of all events to Him; that as He guided,\nand had even made the chain of cause and consequences, which nature in\ngeneral strictly obeyed, so to Him should be given the honour of all\nevents, the consequences of those causes, as the first Mover and Maker\nof all things.\nI, who had hitherto lived, as might be truly said, without God in the\nworld, began now to see farther into all those things than I had ever\nyet been capable of before, and this brought me at last to look with\nshame and blushes upon such a course of wickedness as I had gone\nthrough in the world. I had been bred, indeed, to nothing of either\nreligious or moral knowledge. What I gained of either was, first, by\nthe little time of civil life which I lived in Scotland, where my\nabhorrence of the wickedness of my captain and comrade, and some sober,\nreligious company I fell into, first gave me some knowledge of good and\nevil, and showed me the beauty of a sober, religious life, though, with\nmy leaving that country, it soon left me too; or, secondly, the modest\nhints and just reflections of my steward, whom I called my tutor, who\nwas a man of sincere religion, good principles, and a real, true\npenitent for his past miscarriages. Oh! had I with him sincerely\nrepented of what was past, I had not for twenty-four years together\nlived a life of levity and profligate wickedness after it.\nBut here I had, as I said, leisure to reflect and to repent, to call to\nmind things past, and, with a just detestation, learn, as Job says, to\nabhor myself in dust and ashes.\nIt is with this temper that I have written my story. I would have all\nthat design to read it prepare to do so with the temper of penitents,\nand remember with how much advantage they may make their penitent\nreflections at home, under the merciful dispositions of Providence, in\npeace, plenty, and ease, rather than abroad, under the discipline of a\ntransported criminal, as my wife and my tutor, or under the miseries\nand distresses of a shipwrecked wanderer, as my skipper or captain of\nthe sloop, who, as I hear, died a very great penitent, labouring in the\ndeserts and mountains to find his way home to Virginia, by the way of\nCarolina, whither the rest of the crew reached after infinite dangers\nand hardships; or in exile, however favourably circumstanced, as mine,\nin absence from my family, and for some time in no probable view of\never seeing them any more.\nSuch, I say, may repent with advantage; but how few are they that\nseriously look in till their way is hedged up and they have no other\nway to look!\nHere, I say, I had leisure to repent. How far it pleases God to give\nthe grace of repentance where He gives the opportunity of it is not for\nme to say of myself. It is sufficient that I recommend it to all that\nread this story, that, when they find their lives come up in any degree\nto any similitude of cases, they will inquire by me, and ask\nthemselves, Is not this the time to repent? Perhaps the answer may\ntouch them.\nI have only to add to what was then written, that my kind friends the\nSpaniards, finding no other method presented for conveying me to my\nhome\u2014that is to say, to Virginia\u2014got a license for me to come in the\nnext galleons, as a Spanish merchant, to Cadiz, where I arrived safe\nwith all my treasure; for he suffered me to be at no expenses in his\nhouse; and from Cadiz I soon got my passage on board an English\nmerchantship for London, from whence I sent an account of my adventures\nto my wife, and where, in about five months more, she came over to me,\nleaving with full satisfaction the management of all our affairs in\nVirginia in the same faithful hands as before.\nEND OF THE LIFE OF COLONEL JACQUE\nTHE TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN\nAN EXPLANATORY PREFACE\nIt is not that I see any reason to alter my opinion in anything I have\nwritten which occasions this epistle, but I find it necessary, for the\nsatisfaction of some persons of honour as well as wit, to pass a short\nexplication upon it, and tell the world what I mean, or rather what I\ndo not mean, in some things wherein I find I am liable to be\nmisunderstood.\nI confess myself something surprised to hear that I am taxed with\nbewraying my own nest and abusing our nation by discovering the\nmeanness of our original, in order to make the English contemptible\nabroad and at home; in which I think they are mistaken. For why should\nnot our neighbours be as good as we to derive from? And I must add\nthat, had we been an unmixed nation, I am of opinion it had been to our\ndisadvantage. For, to go no further, we have three nations about us as\nclear from mixtures of blood as any in the world, and I know not which\nof them I could wish ourselves to be like\u2014I mean the Scots, the Welsh,\nand Irish; and if I were to write a reverse to the satire, I would\nexamine all the nations of Europe, and prove that those nations which\nare most mixed are the best, and have least of barbarism and brutality\namong them; and abundance of reasons might be given for it, too long to\nbring into a preface.\nBut I give this hint to let the world know that I am far from thinking\nit is a satire upon the English nation to tell them they are derived\nfrom all the nations under heaven\u2014that is, from several nations. Nor is\nit meant to undervalue the original of the English, for we see no\nreason to like them the worse, being the relics of Nomans, Danes,\nSaxons, and Normans, than we should have done if they had remained\nBritons; that is, than if they had been all Welshmen.\nBut the intent of the satire is pointed at the vanity of those who talk\nof their antiquity and value themselves upon their pedigree, their\nancient families, and being true-born; whereas it is impossible we\nshould be true-born, and if we could, should have lost by the bargain.\nThose sort of people who call themselves true-born and tell long\nstories of their families, and, like a nobleman of Venice, think a\nforeigner ought not to walk on the same side of the street with them,\nare owned to be meant in this satire. What they would infer from their\nown original I know not, nor is it easy to make out whether they are\nthe better or the worse for their ancestors. Our English nation may\nvalue themselves for their wit, wealth, and courage, and I believe few\nwill dispute it with them; but for long originals and ancient true-born\nfamilies of English, I would advise them to waive the discourse. A true\nEnglishman is one that deserves a character, and I have nowhere\nlessened him that I know of; but as for a true-born Englishman, I\nconfess I do not understand him.\nFrom hence I only infer that an Englishman, of all men, ought not to\ndespise foreigners as such, and I think the inference is just, since\nwhat they are to-day we were yesterday, and to-morrow they will be like\nus. If foreigners misbehave in their several stations and employments,\nI have nothing to do with that; the laws are open to punish them\nequally with natives, and let them have no favour.\nBut when I see the town full of lampoons and invectives against\nDutchmen only because they are foreigners, and the King reproached and\ninsulted by insolent pedants and ballad-making poets for employing\nforeigners, and for being a foreigner himself, I confess myself moved\nby it to remind our nation of their own original, thereby to let them\nsee what a banter is put upon ourselves in it, since, speaking of\nEnglishmen _ab origine_, we are really foreigners ourselves.\nI could go on to prove it is also impolitic in us to discourage\nforeigners, since it is easy to make it appear that the multitudes of\nforeign nations who have taken sanctuary here have been the greatest\nadditions to the wealth and strength of the nation, the great essential\nwhereof is the number of its in habitants. Nor would this nation have\never arrived to the degree of wealth and glory it now boasts of if the\naddition of foreign nations, both as to manufactures and arms, had not\nbeen helpful to it. This is so plain that he who is ignorant of it is\ntoo dull to be talked with.\nThe satire, therefore, I must allow to be just till I am otherwise\nconvinced, because nothing can be more ridiculous than to hear our\npeople boast of that antiquity which, if it had been true, would have\nleft us in so much worse a condition than we are in now; whereas we\nought rather to boast among our neighbours that we are a part of\nthemselves, or the same original as they, but bettered by our climate,\nand, like our language and manufactures, derived from them and improved\nby us to a perfection greater than they can pretend to.\nThis we might have valued ourselves upon without vanity; but to disown\nour descent from them, talking big of our ancient families and long\noriginals, and stand at a distance from foreigners, like the enthusiast\nin religion, with a \u201cStand off; I am more holy than thou!\u201d\u2014this is a\nthing so ridiculous in a nation, derived from foreigners as we are,\nthat I could not but attack them as I have done.\nAnd whereas I am threatened to be called to a public account for this\nfreedom, and the publisher of this has been new-papered in gaol already\nfor it, though I see nothing in it for which the Government can be\ndispleased, yet if at the same time those people who, with an unlimited\narrogance in print, every day affront the King, prescribe the\nParliament, and lampoon the Government may be either punished or\nrestrained, I am content to stand and fall with the public justice of\nmy native country which I am not sensible I have anywhere injured.\nNor would I be misunderstood concerning the clergy, with whom, if I\nhave taken any license more than becomes a satire, I question not but\nthose gentlemen, who are men of letters, are also men of so much\ncandour as to allow me a loose at the crimes of the guilty without\nthinking the whole profession lashed, who are innocent. I profess to\nhave very mean thoughts of those gentlemen who have deserted their own\nprinciples, and exposed even their morals as well as loyalty, but not\nat all to think it affects any but such as are concerned in the fact.\nNor would I be misrepresented as to the ingratitude of the English to\nthe King and his friends, as if I meant the English as a nation are so.\nThe contrary is so apparent, that I would hope it should not be\nsuggested of me; and, therefore, when I have brought in Britannia\nspeaking of the King, I suppose her to be the representative or mouth\nof the nation as a body. But if I say we are full of such who daily\naffront the King and abuse his friends, who print scurrilous pamphlets,\nvirulent lampoons, and reproachful public banter against both the\nKing\u2019s person and Government, I say nothing but what is too true. And\nthat the satire is directed at such I freely own, and cannot say but I\nshould think it very hard to be censured for this satire while such\nremain unquestioned and tacitly approved. That I can mean none but such\nis plain from these few lines:\u2014\n\u201cYe Heavens, regard! Almighty Jove, look down,\nAnd view thy injured monarch on the throne.\nOn their ungrateful heads due vengeance take Who sought his aid and\nthen his part forsake.\u201d\nIf I have fallen upon our vices, I hope none but the vicious will be\nangry. As for writing for interest, I disown it. I have neither place,\nnor pension, nor prospect; nor seek none, nor will have none. If matter\nof fact justifies the truth of the crimes, the satire is just. As to\nthe poetic liberties, I hope the crime is pardonable. I am content to\nbe stoned provided none will attack me but the innocent.\nIf my countrymen would take the hint and grow better-natured from my\nill-natured poem, as some call it, I would say this of it, that though\nit is far from the best satire that ever was written, it would do the\nmost good that ever satire did.\nAnd yet I am ready to ask pardon of some gentlemen too, who, though\nthey are Englishmen, have good-nature enough to see themselves\nreproved, and can bear it. Those are gentlemen in a true sense that can\nbear to be told of their _faux pas_ and not abuse the reprover. To such\nI must say this is no satire; they are exceptions to the general rule;\nand I value my performance from their generous approbation more than I\ncan from any opinion I have of its worth.\nThe hasty errors of my verse I made my excuse for before; and since the\ntime I have been upon it has been but little, and my leisure less, I\nhave all along strove rather to make the thoughts explicit than the\npoem correct. However, I have mended some faults in this edition, and\nthe rest must be placed to my account.\nAs to answers, banters, true English Billingsgate, I expect them till\nnobody will buy, and then the shop will be shut. Had I wrote it for the\ngain of the press, I should have been concerned at its being printed\nagain and again by pirates, as they call them, and paragraph-men; but\nwould they but do it justice and print it true according to the copy,\nthey are welcome to sell it for a penny if they please.\nThe pence indeed is the end of their works. I will engage, if nobody\nwill buy, nobody will write. And not a patriot-poet of them all now\nwill, in defence of his native country\u2014which I have abused, they\nsay\u2014print an answer to it, and give it about for God\u2019s sake.\nTHE PREFACE\nThe end of satire is reformation; and the author, though he doubts the\nwork of conversion is at a general stop, has put his hand to the\nplough.\nI expect a storm of ill language from the fury of the town, and\nespecially from those whose English talent it is to rail. And without\nbeing taken for a conjuror, I may venture to foretell that I shall be\ncavilled at about my mean style, rough verse, and incorrect language;\nthings I might indeed have taken more care in, but the book is printed;\nand though I see some faults, it is too late to mend them. And this is\nall I think needful to say to them.\nPossibly somebody may take me for a Dutchman, in which they are\nmistaken. But I am one that would be glad to see Englishmen behave\nthemselves better to strangers and to governors also, that one might\nnot be reproached in foreign countries for belonging to a nation that\nwants manners.\nI assure you, gentlemen, strangers use us better abroad; and we can\ngive no reason but our ill-nature for the contrary here.\nMethinks an Englishman, who is so proud of being called a good fellow,\nshould be civil; and it cannot be denied but we are in many cases, and\nparticularly to strangers, the churlishest people alive.\nAs to vices, who can dispute our intemperance, while an honest drunken\nfellow is a character in a man\u2019s praise? All our reformations are\nbanters, and will be so till our magistrates and gentry reform\nthemselves by way of example. Then, and not till then, they may be\nexpected to punish others without blushing.\nAs to our ingratitude, I desire to be understood of that particular\npeople who, pretending to be Protestants, have all along endeavoured to\nreduce the liberties and religion of this nation into the hands of King\nJames and his Popish Powers; together with such who enjoy the peace and\nprotection of the present Government, and yet abuse and affront the\nKing, who procured it, and openly profess their uneasiness under him.\nThese, by whatsoever names or titles they are dignified or\ndistinguished, are the people aimed at; nor do I disown but that it is\nso much the temper of an Englishman to abuse his benefactor that I\ncould be glad to see it rectified.\nThose who think I have been guilty of any error in exposing the crimes\nof my own countrymen to themselves may, among many honest instances of\nthe like nature, find the same thing in Mr. Cowley, in his imitation of\nthe second Olympic ode of Pindar. His words are these\u2014\n\u201cBut in this thankless world the givers\nAre envied even by the receivers:\n\u2019Tis now the cheap and frugal fashion Rather to hide than pay an\nobligation.\nNay, \u2019tis much worse than so; It now an artifice doth grow Wrongs and\noutrages to do,\nLest men should think we owe.\u201d\nTHE INTRODUCTION\nSpeak, Satire; for there\u2019s none can tell like thee\nWhether \u2019tis folly, pride, or knavery\nThat makes this discontented land appear\nLess happy now in times of peace than war?\nWhy civil feuds disturb the nation more\nThan all our bloody wars have done before?\nFools out of favour grudge at knaves in place\nAnd men are always honest in disgrace:\nThe Court preferments make men knaves in course;\nBut they which would be in them would be worse.\n\u2019Tis not at foreigners that we repine,\nWould foreigners their perquisites resign:\nThe grand contention \u2019s plainly to be seen,\nTo get some men put out, and some put in.\nFor this our Senators make long harangues,\nAnd florid Members whet their polished tongues.\nStatesmen are always sick of one disease,\nAnd a good pension gives them present ease:\nThat\u2019s the specific makes them all content\nWith any King and any Government.\nGood patriots at Court abuses rail,\nAnd all the nation\u2019s grievances bewail;\nBut when the sovereign balsam\u2019s once applied,\nThe zealot never fails to change his side;\nAnd when he must the golden key resign,\nThe railing spirit comes about again.\nWho shall this bubbled nation disabuse,\nWhile they their own felicities refuse,\nWho at the wars have made such mighty pother,\nAnd now are falling out with one another:\nWith needless fears the jealous nation fill,\nAnd always have been saved against their will:\nWho fifty millions sterling have disbursed,\nTo be with peace and too much plenty cursed:\nWho their old monarch eagerly undo,\nAnd yet uneasily obey the new?\nSearch, Satire, search: a deep incision make;\nThe poison\u2019s strong, the antidote\u2019s too weak.\n\u2019Tis pointed Truth must manage this dispute,\nAnd downright English, Englishmen confute.\nWhet thy just anger at the nation\u2019s pride,\nAnd with keen phrase repel the vicious tide;\nTo Englishmen their own beginnings show,\nAnd ask them why they slight their neighbours so.\nGo back to elder times and ages past,\nAnd nations into long oblivion cast;\nTo old Britannia\u2019s youthful days retire,\nAnd there for true-born Englishmen inquire.\nBritannia freely will disown the name,\nAnd hardly knows herself from whence they came\nWonders that they of all men should pretend\nTo birth and blood, and for a name contend.\nGo back to causes where our follies dwell,\nAnd fetch the dark original from hell:\nSpeak, Satire, for there\u2019s none like thee can tell.\nTHE TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN\nPART I\nWherever God erects a house of prayer,\nThe Devil always builds a chapel there:[11]\nAnd \u2019twill be found upon examination,\nThe latter has the largest congregation:\nFor ever since he first debauched the mind,\nHe made a perfect conquest of mankind.\nWith uniformity of service, he\nReigns with a general aristocracy.\nNo non-conforming sects disturb his reign,\nFor of his yoke there\u2019s very few complain.\nHe knows the genius and the inclination,\nAnd matches proper sins for every nation,\nHe needs no standing-army government;\nHe always rules us by our own consent:\nHis laws are easy, and his gentle sway\nMakes it exceeding pleasant to obey:\nThe list of his vicegerents and commanders,\nOutdoes your C\u00e6sars or your Alexanders.\nThey never fail of his infernal aid,\nAnd he\u2019s as certain ne\u2019er to be betrayed.\nThrough all the world they spread his vast command,\nAnd Death\u2019s eternal empire is maintained.\nThey rule so politicly and so well,\nAs if they were Lords Justices of Hell,\nDuly divided to debauch mankind,\nAnd plant infernal dictates in his mind.\nPride, the first peer, and president of Hell,\nTo his share Spain, the largest province, fell.\nThe subtile Prince thought fittest to bestow\nOn these the golden mines of Mexico,\nWith all the silver mountains of Peru,\nWealth which would in wise hands the world undo:\nBecause he knew their genius was such,\nToo lazy and too haughty to be rich.\nSo proud a people, so above their fate,\nThat if reduced to beg, they\u2019ll beg in state;\nLavish of money to be counted brave,\nAnd proudly starve because they scorn to save.\nNever was nation in the world before\nSo very rich and yet so very poor.\nLust chose the torrid zone of Italy,\nWhere blood ferments in rapes and sodomy:\nWhere swelling veins overflow with liquid streams,\nWith heat impregnate from Vesuvian flames:\nWhose flowing sulphur forms infernal lakes,\nAnd human body of the soil partakes.\nTheir nature ever burns with hot desires,\nFanned with luxuriant air from subterranean fires;\nHere, undisturbed in floods of scalding lust,\nThe Infernal King reigns with infernal gust.\nDrunkenness, the darling favourite of Hell,\nChose Germany to rule; and rules so well,\nNo subjects more obsequiously obey,\nNone please so well or are so pleased as they.\nThe cunning artist manages so well,\nHe lets them bow to Heaven and drink to Hell.\nIf but to wine and him they homage pay,\nHe cares not to what deity they pray,\nWhat God they worship most, or in what way.\nWhether by Luther, Calvin, or by Rome\nThey sail for Heaven, by Wine he steers them home.\nUngoverned Passion settled first in France,\nWhere mankind lives in haste and thrives by chance;\nA dancing nation, fickle and untrue,\nHave oft undone themselves and others too;\nPrompt the infernal dictates to obey,\nAnd in Hell\u2019s favour none more great than they.\nThe Pagan world he blindly leads away,\nAnd personally rules with arbitrary sway;\nThe mask thrown off, plain Devil his title stands,\nAnd what elsewhere he tempts he there commands.\nThere with full gust the ambition of his mind\nGoverns, as he of old in Heaven designed.\nWorshipped as God, his Paynim altars smoke,\nEmbrued with blood of those that him invoke.\nThe rest by Deputies he rules as well,\nAnd plants the distant colonies of Hell.\nBy them his secret power he maintains,\nAnd binds the world in his infernal chains.\nBy Zeal the Irish, and the Russ by Folly\nFury the Dane, the Swede by Melancholy;\nBy stupid Ignorance the Muscovite;\nThe Chinese by a child of Hell called Wit\nWealth makes the Persian too effeminate,\nAnd Poverty the Tartars desperate;\nThe Turks and Moors by Mah\u2019met he subdues,\nAnd God has given him leave to rule the Jews.\nRage rules the Portuguese and Fraud the Scotch,\nRevenge the Pole and Avarice the Dutch.\nSatire, be kind, and draw a silent veil\nThy native England\u2019s vices to conceal;\nOr, if that task\u2019s impossible to do,\nAt least be just and show her virtues too\u2014\nToo great the first; alas, the last too few!\nEngland, unknown as yet, unpeopled lay;\nHappy had she remained so to this day,\nAnd not to every nation been a prey.\nHer open harbours and her fertile plains\n(The merchant\u2019s glory those, and these the swain\u2019s)\nTo every barbarous nation have betrayed her,\nWho conquer her as oft as they invade her;\nSo beauty\u2019s guarded but by innocence,\nThat ruins her, which should be her defence.\nIngratitude, a devil of black renown,\nPossessed her very early for his own.\nAn ugly, surly, sullen, selfish spirit,\nWho Satan\u2019s worst perfections does inherit;\nSecond to him in malice and in force,\nAll devil without, and all within him worse.\nHe made her first-born race to be so rude,\nAnd suffered her so oft to be subdued;\nBy several crowds of wandering thieves o\u2019errun,\nOften unpeopled, and as oft undone;\nWhile every nation that her powers reduced\nTheir languages and manners introduced.\nFrom whose mixed relics our compounded breed\nBy spurious generation does succeed,\nMaking a race uncertain and uneven,\nDerived from all the nations under Heaven.\nThe Romans first with Julius C\u00e6sar came,\nIncluding all the nations of that name,\nGauls, Greeks, and Lombards, and, by computation\nAuxiliaries or slaves of every nation.\nWith Hengist, Saxons; Danes with Sueno came,\nIn search of plunder, not in search of fame.\nScots, Picts, and Irish from the Hibernian shore,\nAnd conquering William brought the Normans o\u2019er.\nAll these their barbarous offspring left behind,\nThe dregs of armies, they of all mankind;\nBlended with Britons, who before were here,\nOf whom the Welsh ha\u2019 blessed the character.\nFrom this amphibious ill-born mob began\nThat vain, ill-natured thing, an Englishman.\nThe customs, surnames, languages, and manners\nOf all these nations are their own explainers:\nWhose relics are so lasting and so strong,\nThey ha\u2019 left a shibboleth upon our tongue,\nBy which with easy search you may distinguish\nYour Roman-Saxon-Danish Norman English.\nThe great invading Norman[12] let us know\nWhat conquerors in after times might do.\nTo every musketeer[13] he brought to town,\nHe gave the lands which never were his own.\nWhen first the English crown he did obtain,\nHe did not send his Dutchmen back again.\nNo reassumptions in his reign were known,\nD\u2019Avenant might there ha\u2019 let his book alone.\nNo Parliament his army could disband;\nHe raised no money, for he paid in land.\nHe gave his legions their eternal station,\nAnd made them all freeholders of the nation.\nHe cantoned out the country to his men,\nAnd every soldier was a denizen.\nThe rascals thus enriched, he called them lords,\nTo please their upstart pride with new-made words,\nAnd Doomsday Book his tyranny records.\nAnd here begins our ancient pedigree,\nThat so exalts our poor nobility:\n\u2019Tis that from some French trooper they derive,\nWho with the Norman bastard did arrive;\nThe trophies of the families appear,\nSome show the sword, the bow, and some the spear,\nWhich their great ancestor, forsooth, did wear.\nThese in the herald\u2019s register remain,\nTheir noble mean extraction to explain,\nYet who the hero was, no man can tell,\nWhether a drummer or a colonel:\nThe silent record blushes to reveal\nTheir undescended dark original.\nBut grant the best, how came the change to pass,\nA true-born Englishman of Norman race?\nA Turkish horse can show more history\nTo prove his well-descended family.\nConquest, as by the moderns[14] \u2019tis expressed,\nMay give a title to the lands possessed:\nBut that the longest sword should be so civil\nTo make a Frenchman English, that\u2019s the devil.\nThese are the heroes that despise the Dutch,\nAnd rail at new-come foreigners so much,\nForgetting that themselves are all derived\nFrom the most scoundrel race that ever lived;\nA horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones,\nWho ransacked kingdoms and dispeopled towns,\nThe Pict and painted Briton, treacherous Scot,\nBy hunger, /theft, and rapine hither brought;\nNorwegian pirates, buccaneering Danes,\nWhose red-haired offspring everywhere remains,\nWho, joined with Norman-French, compound the breed\nFrom whence your true-born Englishmen proceed.\nAnd lest by length of time it be pretended\nThe climate may this modern breed ha\u2019 mended,\nWise Providence, to keep us where we are,\nMixes us daily with exceeding care.\nWe have been Europe\u2019s sink, the jakes where she\nVoids all her offal outcast progeny.\nFrom the eighth Henry\u2019s time, the strolling bands\nOf banished fugitives from neighbouring lands\nHave here a certain sanctuary found:\nThe eternal refuge of the vagabond,\nWhere, in but half a common age of time,\nBorrowing new blood and manners from the clime,\nProudly they learn all mankind to contemn,\nAnd all their race are true-born Englishmen.\nDutch, Walloons, Flemings, Irishmen, and Scots,\nVaudois and Valtelins, and Hugonots,\nIn good Queen Bess\u2019s charitable reign,\nSupplied us with three hundred thousand men.\nReligion\u2014God, we thank Thee!\u2014sent them hither\nPriests, Protestants, the Devil and all together:\nOf all professions and of every trade,\nAll that were persecuted or afraid;\nWhether for debt or other crimes they fled,\nDavid at Hachilah was still their head.\nThe offspring of this miscellaneous crowd\nHad not their new plantations long enjoyed,\nBut they grew Englishmen, and raised their votes\nAt foreign shoals for interloping Scots.\nThe royal branch[15] from Pictland did succeed,\nWith troops of Scots and Scabs from North-by-Tweed.\nThe seven first years of his pacific reign\nMade him and half his nation Englishmen.\nScots from the northern frozen banks of Tay,\nWith packs and plods came whigging all away:\nThick as the locusts which in Egypt swarmed,\nWith pride and hungry hopes completely armed;\nWith native truth, diseases, and no money,\nPlundered our Canaan of the milk and honey.\nHere they grew quickly lords and gentlemen,\nAnd all their race are true-born Englishmen.\nThe civil wars, the common purgative,\nWhich always use to make the nation thrive,\nMade way for all that strolling congregation\nWhich thronged in Pious Charles\u2019s restoration.[16]\nThe royal refugee our breed restores,\nWith foreign courtiers and with foreign whores,\nAnd carefully repeopled us again,\nThroughout his lazy, long, lascivious reign,\nWith such a blest and true-born English fry,\nAs much illustrates our nobility.\nA gratitude which will so black appear,\nAs future ages must abhor to hear,\nWhen they look back on all that crimson flood,\nWhich streamed in Lindsay\u2019s and Carnarvon\u2019s blood,\nBold Strafford, Cambridge, Capel, Lucas, Lisle,\nWho crowned in death his father\u2019s funeral pile.\nThe loss of whom, in order to supply,\nWith true-born English nationality,\nSix bastard Dukes survive his luscious reign,\nThe labours of Italian Castlemaine,[17]\nFrench Portsmouth,[18] Tabby Scot, and Cambrian.\nBesides the numerous bright and virgin throng,\nWhose female glories shade them from my song.\nThis offspring, if one age they multiply,\nMay half the house with English peers supply;\nThere with true English pride they may contemn\nSchomberg and Portland,[19] new made noblemen.\nFrench cooks, Scotch pedlars, and Italian whores,\nWere all made lords or lords\u2019 progenitors.\nBeggars and bastards by his new creation\nMuch multiplied the peerage of the nation;\nWho will be all, ere one short age runs o\u2019er.\nAs true-born lords as those we had before.\nThen to recruit the Commons he prepares\nAnd heal the latent breaches of the wars;\nThe pious purpose better to advance,\nHe invites the banished Protestants of France:\nHither for God\u2019s sake and their own they fled,\nSome for religion came, and some for bread;\nTwo hundred thousand pairs of wooden shoes,\nWho, God be thanked, had nothing left to lose,\nTo Heaven\u2019s great praise did for religion fly,\nTo make us starve our poor in charity.\nIn every port they plant their fruitful train,\nTo get a race of true-born Englishmen;\nWhose children will, when riper years they see,\nBe as ill-natured and as proud as we;\nCall themselves English, foreigners despise,\nBe surly like us all, and just as wise.\nThus from a mixture of all kinds began\nThat heterogeneous thing an Englishman;\nIn eager rapes and furious lust begot,\nBetwixt a painted Briton and a Scot;\nWhose gendering offspring quickly learned to bow,\nAnd yoke their heifers to the Roman plough;\nFrom whence a mongrel half-bred race there came,\nWith neither name nor nation, speech nor fame;\nIn whose hot veins new mixtures quickly ran,\nInfused betwixt a Saxon and a Dane;\nWhile their rank daughters, to their parents just,\nReceived all nations with promiscuous lust.\nThis nauseous brood directly did contain\nThe well-extracted brood of Englishmen.\nWhich medley cantoned in a Heptarchy,\nA rhapsody of nations to supply,\nAmong themselves maintained eternal wars,\nAnd still the ladies loved the conquerors.\nThe Western Angles all the rest subdued,\nA bloody nation, barbarous and rude,\nWho by the tenure of the sword possessed\nOne part of Britain, and subdued the rest.\nAnd as great things denominate the small,\nThe conquering part gave title to the whole;\nThe Scot, Pict, Briton, Roman, Dane, submit,\nAnd with the English-Saxon all unite;\nAnd these the mixtures have so close pursued,\nThe very name and memory\u2019s subdued.\nNo Roman now, no Briton does remain;\nWales strove to separate, but strove in vain;\nThe silent nations undistinguished fall,\nAnd Englishman\u2019s the common name of all.\nFate jumbled them together, God knows how;\nWhat e\u2019er they were, they\u2019re true-born English now.\nThe wonder which remains is at our pride,\nTo value that which all men else deride.\nFor Englishmen to boast of generation\nCancels their knowledge and lampoons the nation.\nA true-born Englishman\u2019s a contradiction,\nIn speech an irony, in fact a fiction;\nA banter made to be a test to fools,\nWhich those that use it justly ridicules;\nA metaphor invented to express\nA man akin to all the universe.\nFor, as the Scots, as learned men have said,\nThroughout the world their wandering seed have spread;\nSo open-handed England, \u2019tis believed,\nHas all the gleanings of the world received.\nSome think of England, \u2019twas our Saviour meant,\nThe Gospel should to all the world be sent,\nSince, when the blessed sound did hither reach,\nThey to all nations might be said to preach.\n\u2019Tis well that virtue gives nobility,\nHow shall we else the want of birth and blood supply?\nSince scarce one family is left alive\nWhich does not from some foreigner derive.\nOf sixty thousand English gentlemen,\nWhose name and arms in registers remain,\nWe challenge all our heralds to declare\nTen families which English-Saxons are.\nFrance justly owns the ancient noble line\nOf Bourbon, Montmorency, and Lorraine,\nThe Germans too their House of Austria show\nAnd Holland their invincible Nassau,\nLines which in heraldry were ancient grown\nBefore the name of Englishman was known.\nEven Scotland, too, her elder glory shows,\nHer Gordons, Hamiltons, and her Monros,\nDouglas, Mackays, and Grahams, names well known\nLong before ancient England knew her own.\nBut England, modern to the last degree\nBorrows or makes her own nobility,\nAnd yet she boldly boasts of pedigree;\nRepines that foreigners are put upon her,\nAnd talks of her antiquity and honour;\nHer Sackvilles, Saviles, Capels, De la Meres,\nMohuns, and Montagues, Darcys, and Veres,\nNot one have English names, yet all are English peers.\nYour Hermans, Papillons, and Lavalliers\nPass now for true-born English knights and squires,\nAnd make good senate members or Lord Mayors.\nWealth, howsoever got, in England makes\nLords of mechanics, gentlemen of rakes:\nAntiquity and birth are needless here;\n\u2019Tis impudence and money makes a peer.\nInnumerable City knights, we know,\nFrom Bluecoat Hospital and Bridewell flow;\nDraymen and porters fill the city Chair\nAnd footboys magisterial purple wear.\nFate has but very small distinction set\nBetwixt the counter and the coronet.\nTarpaulin lords, pages of high renown,\nRise up by poor men\u2019s valour, not their own.\nGreat families of yesterday we show,\nAnd lords whose parents were the Lord knows who.\nPART II\nThe breed\u2019s described: Now, Satire, if you can,\nTheir temper show, for manners make the man.\nFierce, as the Briton; as the Roman, brave;\nAnd less inclined to conquer than to save;\nEager to fight, and lavish of their blood,\nAnd equally of fear and forecast void.\nThe Pict has made \u2019em sour, the Dane morose;\nFalse from the Scot, and from the Norman worse.\nWhat honesty they have, the Saxons gave them,\nAnd that, now they grow old, begins to leave them.\nThe climate makes them terrible and bold,\nAnd English beef their courage does uphold;\nNo danger can their daring spirit pall,\nAlways provided that their belly\u2019s full.\nIn close intrigues their faculty\u2019s but weak,\nFor generally what e\u2019er they know they speak,\nAnd often their own counsels undermine\nBy their infirmity, and not design;\nFrom whence the learned say it does proceed,\nThat English treasons never can succeed;\nFor they\u2019re so open-hearted, you may know\nTheir own most secret thoughts, and others too.\nThe lab\u2019ring poor, in spite of double pay,\nAre saucy, mutinous, and beggarly,\nSo lavish of their money and their time,\nThat want of forecast is the nation\u2019s crime.\nGood drunken company is their delight,\nAnd what they get by day they spend by night.\nDull thinking seldom does their heads engage,\nBut drink their youth away, and hurry on old age.\nEmpty of all good husbandry and sense,\nAnd void of manners most when void of pence,\nTheir strong aversion to behaviour\u2019s such,\nThey always talk too little or too much;\nSo dull, they never take the pains to think,\nAnd seldom are good-natured, but in drink.\nIn English ale their dear enjoyment lies,\nFor which they\u2019ll starve themselves and families.\nAn Englishman will fairly drink as much\nAs will maintain two families of Dutch:\nSubjecting all their labour to their pots;\nThe greatest artists are the greatest sots.\nThe country poor do by example live;\nThe gentry lead them, and the clergy drive:\nWhat may we not from such examples hope?\nThe landlord is their god, the priest their pope.\nA drunken clergy and a swearing bench\nHas given the Reformation such a drench,\nAs wise men think there is some cause to doubt\nWill purge good manners and religion out.\nNor do the poor alone their liquor prize;\nThe sages join in this great sacrifice;\nThe learned men who study Aristotle,\nCorrect him with an explanation bottle;\nPraise Epicurus rather than Lysander,\nAnd Aristippus[20] more than Alexander.\nThe doctors, too, their Galen here resign,\nAnd generally prescribe specific wine;\nThe graduate\u2019s study\u2019s grown an easier task,\nWhile for the urinal they toss the flask;\nThe surgeon\u2019s art grows plainer every hour,\nAnd wine\u2019s the balm which into wounds they pour.\nPoets long since Parnassus have forsaken,\nAnd say the ancient bards were all mistaken.\nApollo\u2019s lately abdicate and fled,\nAnd good King Bacchus governs in his stead;\nHe does the chaos of the head refine,\nAnd atom-thoughts jump into words by wine:\nThe inspirations of a finer nature,\nAs wine must needs excel Parnassus\u2019 water.\nStatesmen their weighty politics refine,\nAnd soldiers raise their courages by wine;\nCecilia gives her choristers their choice,\nAnd lets them all drink wine to clear their voice.\nSome think the clergy first found out the way,\nAnd wine\u2019s the only spirit by which they pray;\nBut others, less profane than so, agree\nIt clears the lungs and helps the memory;\nAnd therefore all of them divinely think,\nInstead of study, \u2019tis as well to drink.\nAnd here I would be very glad to know\nWhether our Asgilites may drink or no;\nTh\u2019 enlight\u2019ning fumes of wine would certainly\nAssist them much when they begin to fly;\nOr if a fiery chariot should appear,\nInflamed by wine, they\u2019d have the less to fear.\nEven the gods themselves, as mortals say,\nWere they on earth, would be as drunk as they;\nNectar would be no more celestial drink,\nThey\u2019d all take wine, to teach them how to think.\nBut English drunkards gods and men outdo,\nDrink their estates away, and money too.\nColon\u2019s in debt, and if his friends should fail\nTo help him out, must die at at last in gaol;\nHis wealthy uncle sent a hundred nobles\nTo pay his trifles off, and rid him of his troubles;\nBut Colon, like a true-born Englishman,\nDrank all the money out in bright champagne,\nAnd Colon does in custody remain.\nDrunk\u2019ness has been the darling of this realm\nE\u2019er since a drunken pilot had the helm.\nIn their religion they are so uneven,\nThat each man goes his own by-way to Heaven,\nTenacious of mistakes to that degree\nThat ev\u2019ry man pursues it separately,\nAnd fancies none can find the way but he:\nSo shy of one another they are grown,\nAs if they strove to get to Heaven alone.\nRigid and zealous, positive and grave,\nAnd ev\u2019ry grace but Charity they have.\nThis makes them so ill-natured and uncivil,\nThat all men think an Englishman the devil.\nSurly to strangers, froward to their friend;\nSubmit to love with a reluctant mind.\nResolved to be ungrateful and unkind,\nIf by necessity reduced to ask,\nThe giver has the difficultest task;\nFor what\u2019s bestowed they awkwardly receive,\nAnd always take less freely than they give.\nThe obligation is their highest grief,\nAnd never love where they accept relief.\nSo sullen in their sorrow, that \u2019tis known\nThey\u2019ll rather die than their afflictions own;\nAnd if relieved, it is too often true\nThat they\u2019ll abuse their benefactors too;\nFor in distress, their haughty stomach\u2019s such,\nThey hate to see themselves obliged too much.\nSeldom contented, often in the wrong,\nHard to be pleased at all, and never long.\nIf your mistakes their ill opinion gain,\nNo merit can their favour reobtain;\nAnd if they\u2019re not vindictive in their fury,\n\u2019Tis their unconstant temper does secure ye.\nTheir brain\u2019s so cool, their passion seldom burns,\nFor all\u2019s condensed before the flame returns;\nThe fermentation\u2019s of so weak a matter,\nThe humid damps the fume, and runs it all to water.\nSo, though the inclination may be strong,\nThey\u2019re pleased by fits, and never angry long.\nThen, if good-nature shows some slender proof,\nThey never think they have reward enough,\nBut, like our modern Quakers of the town,\nExpect your manners, and return you none.\nFriendship, th\u2019 abstracted union of the mind,\nWhich all men seek, but very few can find:\nOf all the nations in the universe,\nNone talk on\u2019t more, or understand it less;\nFor if it does their property annoy,\nTheir property their friendship will destroy.\nAs you discourse them, you shall hear them tell\nAll things in which they think they do excel.\nNo panegyric needs their praise record;\nAn Englishman ne\u2019er wants his own good word.\nHis long discourses generally appear\nPrologued with his own wond\u2019rous character.\nBut first to illustrate his own good name,\nHe never fails his neighbour to defame;\nAnd yet he really designs no wrong\u2014\nHis malice goes no further than his tongue.\nBut pleased to tattle, he delights to rail,\nTo satisfy the lech\u2019ry of a tale.\nHis own dear praises close the ample speech;\nTells you how wise he is\u2014that is, how rich:\nFor wealth is wisdom; he that\u2019s rich is wise;\nAnd all men learned poverty despise.\nHis generosity comes next, and then\nConcludes that he\u2019s a true-born Englishman;\nAnd they, \u2019tis known, are generous and free,\nForgetting and forgiving injury:\nWhich may be true, thus rightly understood,\nForgiving ill turns, and forgetting good.\nCheerful in labour when they\u2019ve undertook it,\nBut out of humour when they\u2019re out of pocket.\nBut if their belly and their pocket\u2019s full,\nThey may be phlegmatic, but never dull:\nAnd if a bottle does their brains refine,\nIt makes their wit as sparkling as their wine.\nAs for the general vices which we find\nThey\u2019re guilty of, in common with mankind,\nSatire, forbear, and silently endure;\nWe must conceal the crimes we cannot cure.\nNor shall my verse the brighter sex defame,\nFor English beauty will preserve her name,\nBeyond dispute, agreeable and fair,\nAnd modester than other nations are:\nFor where the vice prevails, the great temptation\nIs want of money more than inclination.\nIn general, this only is allowed,\nThey\u2019re something noisy, and a little proud.\nAn Englishman is gentlest in command,\nObedience is a stranger in the land:\nHardly subjected to the magistrate,\nFor Englishmen do all subjection hate;\nHumblest when rich, but peevish when they\u2019re poor,\nAnd think, what e\u2019er they have, they merit more.\nThe meanest English ploughman studies law,\nAnd keeps thereby the magistrates in awe;\nWill boldly tell them what they have to do,\nAnd sometimes punish their omissions too.\nTheir liberty and property\u2019s so dear,\nThey scorn their laws or governors to fear:\nSo bugbeared with the name of slavery,\nThey can\u2019t submit to their own liberty.\nRestraint from ill is freedom to the wise;\nBut Englishmen do all restraint despise.\nSlaves to their liquor, drudges to the pots,\nThe mob are statesmen and their statesmen sots.\nTheir governors they count such dangerous things,\nThat \u2019tis their custom to affront their kings:\nSo jealous of the power their kings possest,\nThey suffer neither power nor king to rest.\nThe bad with force they easily subdue:\nThe good with constant clamours they pursue;\nAnd did King Jesus reign, they\u2019d murmur too.\nA discontented nation, and by far\nHarder to rule in times of peace than war:\nEasily set together by the ears,\nAnd full of causeless jealousies and fears:\nApt to revolt, and willing to rebel,\nAnd never are contented when they\u2019re well.\nNo Government could ever please them long,\nCould tie their hands, or rectify their tongue:\nIn this to ancient Israel well compared,\nEternal murmurs are among them heard.\nIt was but lately that they were oppressed,\nTheir rights invaded, and their laws suppressed:\nWhen nicely tender of their liberty,\nLord! what a noise they made of slavery.\nIn daily tumult showed their discontent,\nLampooned the King, and mocked his Government.\nAnd if in arms they did not first appear,\n\u2019Twas want of force, and not for want of fear.\nIn humbler tone than English used to do,\nAt foreign hands for foreign aid they sue.\nWilliam, the great successor of Nassau,\nTheir prayers heard and their oppressions saw:\nHe saw and saved them; God and him they praised,\nTo this their thanks, to that their trophies raised.\nBut, glutted with their own felicities,\nThey soon their new deliverer despise;\nSay all their prayers back, their joy disown,\nUnsing their thanks, and pull their trophies down;\nTheir harps of praise are on the willows hung,\nFor Englishmen are ne\u2019er contented long.\nThe reverend clergy, too! Who would have thought\nThat they, who had such non-resistance taught,\nShould e\u2019er to arms against their prince be brought,\nWho up to Heaven did regal power advance,\nSubjecting English laws to modes of France,\nTwisting religion so with loyalty,\nAs one could never live and t\u2019other die.\nAnd yet no sooner did their prince design\nTheir glebes and perquisites to undermine,\nBut, all their passive doctrines laid aside,\nThe clergy their own principles denied;\nUnpreached their non-resisting cant, and prayed\nTo Heaven for help and to the Dutch for aid.\nThe Church chimed all her doctrines back again,\nAnd pulpit champions did the cause maintain;\nFlew in the face of all their former zeal,\nAnd non-resistance did at once repeal.\nThe Rabbis say it would be too prolix\nTo tie religion up to politics:\nThe Church\u2019s safety is _suprema lex_.\nAnd so, by a new figure of their own,\nTheir former doctrines all at once disown;\nAs laws _post facto_ in the Parliament\nIn urgent cases have obtained assent,\nBut are as dangerous precedents laid by,\nMade lawful only by necessity.\nThe reverend fathers then in arms appear,\nAnd men of God become the men of war.\nThe nation, fired by them, to arms apply,\nAssault their Antichristian monarchy;\nTo their due channel all our laws restore,\nAnd made things what they should have been before.\nBut when they came to fill the vacant throne,\nAnd the pale priests looked back on what they\u2019d done;\nHow English liberty began to thrive,\nAnd Church of England loyalty outlive;\nHow all their persecuting days were done,\nAnd their deliverer placed upon the throne:\nThe priests, as priests are wont to do, turned tail;\nThey\u2019re Englishmen, and nature will prevail.\nNow they deplore the ruins they have made,\nAnd murmur for the master they betrayed,\nExcuse those crimes they could not make him mend,\nAnd suffer for the cause they can\u2019t defend.\nPretend they\u2019d not have carried things so high,\nAnd proto-martyrs make for Popery.\nHad the prince done as they designed the thing,\nHave set the clergy up to rule the King,\nTaken a donative for coming hither,\nAnd so have left their King and them together,\nWe had, say they, been now a happy nation.\nNo doubt we had seen a blessed reformation:\nFor wise men say \u2019tis as dangerous a thing,\nA ruling priesthood as a priest-rid king;\nAnd of all plagues with which mankind are curst,\nEcclesiastic tyranny\u2019s the worst.\nIf all our former grievances were feigned,\nKing James has been abused and we trepanned;\nBugbeared with Popery and power despotic,\nTyrannic government and leagues exotic:\nThe Revolution\u2019s a fanatic plot,\nWilliam a tyrant, Sunderland a sot:\nA factious army and a poisoned nation\nUnjustly forced King James\u2019s abdication.\nBut if he did the subjects\u2019 rights invade,\nThen he was punished only, not betrayed;\nAnd punishing of kings is no such crime,\nBut Englishmen have done it many a time.\nWhen kings the sword of justice first lay down,\nThey are no kings, though they possess the crown:\nTitles are shadows, crowns are empty things:\nThe good of subjects is the end of kings;\nTo guide in war and to protect in peace;\nWhere tyrants once commence the kings do cease;\nFor arbitrary power\u2019s so strange a thing,\nIt makes the tyrant and unmakes the king.\nIf kings by foreign priests and armies reign,\nAnd lawless power against their oaths maintain,\nThen subjects must have reason to complain.\nIf oaths must bind us when our kings do ill,\nTo call in foreign aid is to rebel.\nBy force to circumscribe our lawful prince\nIs wilful treason in the largest sense;\nAnd they who once rebel, most certainly\nTheir God, and king, and former oaths defy.\nIf we allow no maladministration\nCould cancel the allegiance of the nation,\nLet all our learned sons of Levi try\nThis ecclesiastic riddle to untie:\nHow they could make a step to call the prince,\nAnd yet pretend to oaths and innocence?\nBy the first address they made beyond the seas,\nThey\u2019re perjured in the most intense degrees;\nAnd without scruple for the time to come\nMay swear to all the kings in Christendom.\nAnd truly did our kings consider all,\nThey\u2019d never let the clergy swear at all;\nTheir politic allegiance they\u2019d refuse,\nFor whores and priests do never want excuse.\nBut if the mutual contract were dissolved,\nThe doubts explained, the difficulties solved,\nThat kings, when they descend to tyranny,\nDissolve the bond and leave the subject free,\nThe government\u2019s ungirt when justice dies,\nAnd constitutions are non-entities;\nThe nation\u2019s all a mob; there\u2019s no such thing\nAs Lords or Commons, Parliament or King.\nA great promiscuous crowd the hydra lies\nTill laws revive and mutual contract ties;\nA chaos free to choose for their own share\nWhat case of government they please to wear.\nIf to a king they do the reins commit,\nAll men are bound in conscience to submit;\nBut then that king must by his oath assent\nTo _postulatus_ of the government,\nWhich if he breaks, he cuts off the entail,\nAnd power retreats to its original.\nThis doctrine has the sanction of assent\nFrom Nature\u2019s universal Parliament.\nThe voice of Nature and the course of things\nAllow that laws superior are to kings.\nNone but delinquents would have justice cease;\nKnaves rail at laws as soldiers rail at peace;\nFor justice is the end of government,\nAs reason is the test of argument.\nNo man was ever yet so void of sense\nAs to debate the right of self-defence,\nA principle so grafted in the mind,\nWith Nature born, and does like Nature bind;\nTwisted with reason and with Nature too,\nAs neither one or other can undo.\nNor can this right be less when national;\nReason, which governs one, should govern all.\nWhatever the dialects of courts may tell,\nHe that his right demands can ne\u2019er rebel,\nWhich right, if \u2019tis by governors denied,\nMay be procured by force or foreign aid;\nFor tyranny\u2019s a nation\u2019s term of grief,\nAs folks cry \u201cFire\u201d to hasten in relief;\nAnd when the hated word is heard about,\nAll men should come to help the people out.\nThus England groaned\u2014Britannia\u2019s voice was heard,\nAnd great Nassau to rescue her appeared,\nCalled by the universal voice of Fate\u2014\nGod and the people\u2019s legal magistrate.\nYe Heavens regard! Almighty Jove look down,\nAnd view thy injured monarch on the throne.\nOn their ungrateful heads due vengeance take,\nWho sought his aid and then his part forsake.\nWitness, ye Powers! It was our call alone,\nWhich now our pride makes us ashamed to own.\nBritannia\u2019s troubles fetched him from afar\nTo court the dreadful casualties of war;\nBut where requital never can be made,\nAcknowledgment\u2019s a tribute seldom paid.\nHe dwelt in bright Maria\u2019s circling arms,\nDefended by the magic of her charms\nFrom foreign fears and from domestic harms.\nAmbition found no fuel to her fire;\nHe had what God could give or man desire.\nTill pity roused him from his soft repose,\nHis life to unseen hazards to expose;\nTill pity moved him in our cause t\u2019appear;\nPity! that word which now we hate to hear.\nBut English gratitude is always such,\nTo hate the hand which doth oblige too much.\nBritannia\u2019s cries gave birth to his intent,\nAnd hardly gained his unforeseen assent;\nHis boding thoughts foretold him he should find\nThe people fickle, selfish, and unkind.\nWhich thought did to his royal heart appear\nMore dreadful than the dangers of the war;\nFor nothing grates a generous mind so soon\nAs base returns for hearty service done.\nSatire, be silent! awfully prepare\nBritannia\u2019s song and William\u2019s praise to hear.\nStand by, and let her cheerfully rehearse\nHer grateful vows in her immortal verse.\nLoud Fame\u2019s eternal trumpet let her sound;\nListen, ye distant Poles and endless round.\nMay the strong blast the welcome news convey\nAs far as sound can reach or spirit can fly.\nTo neighb\u2019ring worlds, if such there be, relate\nOur hero\u2019s fame, for theirs to imitate.\nTo distant worlds of spirits let her rehearse:\nFor spirits, without the help of voice, converse.\nMay angels hear the gladsome news on high,\nMixed with their everlasting symphony.\nAnd Hell itself stand in suspense to know\nWhether it be the fatal blast or no.\nBRITANNIA\nThe fame of virtue \u2019tis for which I sound,\nAnd heroes with immortal triumphs crowned.\nFame, built on solid virtue, swifter flies\nThan morning light can spread my eastern skies.\nThe gathering air returns the doubling sound,\nAnd loud repeating thunders force it round;\nEchoes return from caverns of the deep;\nOld Chaos dreamt on\u2019t in eternal sleep;\nTime hands it forward to its latest urn,\nFrom whence it never, never shall return;\nNothing is heard so far or lasts so long;\n\u2019Tis heard by every ear and spoke by every tongue.\nMy hero, with the sails of honour furled,\nRises like the great genius of the world.\nBy Fate and Fame wisely prepared to be\nThe soul of war and life of victory;\nHe spreads the wings of virtue on the throne,\nAnd every wind of glory fans them on.\nImmortal trophies dwell upon his brow,\nFresh as the garlands he has won but now.\nBy different steps the high ascent he gains,\nAnd differently that high ascent maintains.\nPrinces for pride and lust of rule make war,\nAnd struggle for the name of conqueror.\nSome fight for fame, and some for victory;\nHe fights to save, and conquers to set free.\nThen seek no phrase his titles to conceal,\nAnd hide with words what actions must reveal,\nNo parallel from Hebrew stories take\nOf god-like kings my similes to make;\nNo borrowed names conceal my living theme,\nBut names and things directly I proclaim.\n\u2019Tis honest merit does his glory raise,\nWhom that exalts let no man fear to praise:\nOf such a subject no man need be shy,\nVirtue\u2019s above the reach of flattery.\nHe needs no character but his own fame,\nNor any flattering titles but his name:\nWilliam\u2019s the name that\u2019s spoke by every tongue,\nWilliam\u2019s the darling subject of my song.\nListen, ye virgins to the charming sound,\nAnd in eternal dances hand it round:\nYour early offerings to this altar bring,\nMake him at once a lover and a king.\nMay he submit to none but to your arms,\nNor ever be subdued but by your charms.\nMay your soft thoughts for him be all sublime,\nAnd every tender vow be made for him.\nMay he be first in every morning thought,\nAnd Heaven ne\u2019er hear a prayer when he\u2019s left out.\nMay every omen, every boding dream,\nBe fortunate by mentioning his name;\nMay this one charm infernal power affright,\nAnd guard you from the terrors of the night;\nMay every cheerful glass, as it goes down\nTo William\u2019s health, be cordials to your own.\nLet every song be chorused with his name,\nAnd music pay a tribute to his fame;\nLet every poet tune his artful verse,\nAnd in immortal strains his deeds rehearse.\nAnd may Apollo never more inspire\nThe disobedient bard with his seraphic fire;\nMay all my sons their graceful homage pay,\nHis praises sing, and for his safety pray.\nSatire, return to our unthankful isle,\nSecured by Heaven\u2019s regard and William\u2019s toil;\nTo both ungrateful and to both untrue,\nRebels to God, and to good-nature too.\nIf e\u2019er this nation be distressed again,\nTo whomsoe\u2019er they cry, they\u2019ll cry in vain;\nTo Heaven they cannot have the face to look,\nOr, if they should, it would but Heaven provoke.\nTo hope for help from man would be too much,\nMankind would always tell them of the Dutch;\nHow they came here our freedoms to obtain,\nWere paid and cursed, and hurried home again;\nHow by their aid we first dissolved our fears,\nAnd then our helpers damned for foreigners.\n\u2019Tis not our English temper to do better,\nFor Englishmen think every man their debtor.\n\u2019Tis worth observing that we ne\u2019er complained\nOf foreigners, nor of the wealth they gained,\nTill all their services were at an end.\nWise men affirm it is the English way\nNever to grumble till they come to pay,\nAnd then they always think, their temper\u2019s such,\nThe work too little and the pay too much.\nAs frightened patients, when they want a cure,\nBid any price, and any pain endure;\nBut when the doctor\u2019s remedies appear,\nThe cure\u2019s too easy and the price too dear.\nGreat Portland ne\u2019er was bantered when he strove\nFor us his master\u2019s kindest thoughts to move;\nWe ne\u2019er lampooned his conduct when employed\nKing James\u2019s secret counsels to divide:\nThen we caressed him as the only man\nWhich could the doubtful oracle explain;\nThe only Hushai able to repel\nThe dark designs of our Achitopel;\nCompared his master\u2019s courage to his sense,\nThe ablest statesman and the bravest prince.\nOn his wise conduct we depended much,\nAnd liked him ne\u2019er the worse for being Dutch.\nNor was he valued more than he deserved,\nFreely he ventured, faithfully he served.\nIn all King William\u2019s dangers he has shared;\nIn England\u2019s quarrels always he appeared:\nThe Revolution first, and then the Boyne,\nIn both his counsels and his conduct shine;\nHis martial valour Flanders will confess,\nAnd France regrets his managing the peace.\nFaithful to England\u2019s interest and her king;\nThe greatest reason of our murmuring.\nTen years in English service he appeared,\nAnd gained his master\u2019s and the world\u2019s regard:\nBut \u2019tis not England\u2019s custom to reward.\nThe wars are over, England needs him not;\nNow he\u2019s a Dutchman, and the Lord knows what.\nSchomberg, the ablest soldier of his age,\nWith great Nassau did in our cause engage:\nBoth joined for England\u2019s rescue and defence,\nThe greatest captain and the greatest prince.\nWith what applause, his stories did we tell!\nStories which Europe\u2019s volumes largely swell.\nWe counted him an army in our aid:\nWhere he commanded, no man was afraid.\nHis actions with a constant conquest shine,\nFrom Villa-Viciosa to the Rhine.\nFrance, Flanders, Germany, his fame confess,\nAnd all the world was fond of him, but us.\nOur turn first served, we grudged him the command:\nWitness the grateful temper of the land.\nWe blame the King that he relies too much\nOn strangers, Germans, Hugonots, and Dutch,\nAnd seldom does his great affairs of state\nTo English counsellors communicate.\nThe fact might very well be answered thus:\nHe has so often been betrayed by us,\nHe must have been a madman to rely\nOn English Godolphin\u2019s fidelity.\nFor, laying other arguments aside,\nThis thought might mortify our English pride,\nThat foreigners have faithfully obeyed him,\nAnd none but Englishmen have e\u2019er betrayed him.\nThey have our ships and merchants bought and sold,\nAnd bartered English blood for foreign gold.\nFirst to the French they sold our Turkey fleet,\nAnd injured Talmarsh next at Camaret.\nThe King himself is sheltered from their snares,\nNot by his merit, but the crown he wears.\nExperience tells us \u2019tis the English way\nTheir benefactors always to betray.\nAnd lest examples should be too remote,\nA modern magistrate of famous note\nShall give you his own character by rote.\nI\u2019ll make it out, deny it he that can,\nHis worship is a true-born Englishman,\nIn all the latitude of that empty word,\nBy modern acceptations understood.\nThe parish books his great descent record;\nAnd now he hopes ere long to be a lord.\nAnd truly, as things go, it would be pity\nBut such as he should represent the City:\nWhile robbery for burnt-offering he brings,\nAnd gives to God what he has stole from kings:\nGreat monuments of charity he raises,\nAnd good St. Magnus whistles out his praises.\nTo City gaols he grants a jubilee,\nAnd hires huzzas from his own Mobilee.[21]\nLately he wore the golden chain and gown,\nWith which equipped, he thus harangued the town.\nHis Fine Speech, Etc.\nWith clouted iron shoes and sheep-skin breeches,\nMore rags than manners, and more dirt than riches;\nFrom driving cows and calves to Leyton Market,\nWhile of my greatness there appeared no spark yet,\nBehold I come, to let you see the pride\nWith which exalted beggars always ride.\nBorn to the needful labours of the plough,\nThe cart-whip graced me, as the chain does now.\nNature and Fate, in doubt what course to take,\nWhether I should a lord or plough-boy make,\nKindly at last resolved they would promote me,\nAnd first a knave, and then a knight, they vote me.\nWhat Fate appointed, Nature did prepare,\nAnd furnished me with an exceeding care,\nTo fit me for what they designed to have me;\nAnd every gift, but honesty, they gave me.\nAnd thus equipped, to this proud town I came,\nIn quest of bread, and not in quest of fame.\nBlind to my future fate, a humble boy,\nFree from the guilt and glory I enjoy,\nThe hopes which my ambition entertained\nWere in the name of foot-boy all contained.\nThe greatest heights from small beginnings rise;\nThe gods were great on earth before they reached the skies.\nB\u2014\u2014 well, the generous temper of whose mind\nWas ever to be bountiful inclined,\nWhether by his ill-fate or fancy led,\nFirst took me up, and furnished me with bread.\nThe little services he put me to\nSeemed labours, rather than were truly so.\nBut always my advancement he designed,\nFor \u2019twas his very nature to be kind.\nLarge was his soul, his temper ever free;\nThe best of masters and of men to me.\nAnd I, who was before decreed by Fate\nTo be made infamous as well as great,\nWith an obsequious diligence obeyed him,\nTill trusted with his all, and then betrayed him.\nAll his past kindnesses I trampled on,\nRuined his fortunes to erect my own.\nSo vipers in the bosom bred, begin\nTo hiss at that hand first which took them in.\nWith eager treachery I his fall pursued,\nAnd my first trophies were Ingratitude.\nIngratitude, the worst of human wit,\nThe basest action mankind can commit;\nWhich, like the sin against the Holy Ghost,\nHas least of honour, and of guilt the most;\nDistinguished from all other crimes by this,\nThat \u2019tis a crime which no man will confess.\nThat sin alone, which should not be forgiven\nOn earth, although perhaps it may in Heaven.\nThus my first benefactor I o\u2019erthrew;\nAnd how should I be to a second true?\nThe public trusts came next into my care,\nAnd I to use them scurvily prepare.\nMy needy sovereign lord I played upon,\nAnd lent him many a thousand of his own;\nFor which great interests I took care to charge,\nAnd so my ill-got wealth became so large.\nMy predecessor, Judas, was a fool,\nFitter to have been whipped and sent to school\nThan sell a Saviour. Had I been at hand,\nHis Master had not been so cheap trepanned;\nI would have made the eager Jews have found,\nFor forty pieces, thirty thousand pound.\nMy cousin, Ziba, of immortal fame\n(Ziba and I shall never want a name),\nFirst-born of treason, nobly did advance\nHis master\u2019s fall for his inheritance,\nBy whose keen arts old David first began\nTo break his sacred oath with Jonathan:\nThe good old king, \u2019tis thought, was very loth\nTo break his word, and therefore broke his oath.\nZiba\u2019s a traitor of some quality,\nYet Ziba might have been informed by me:\nHad I been there, he ne\u2019er had been content\nWith half the estate, nor have the government.\nIn our late revolution \u2019twas thought strange\nThat I, of all mankind, should like the change;\nBut they who wondered at it never knew\nThat in it I did my old game pursue;\nNor had they heard of twenty thousand pound,\nWhich never yet was lost, nor ne\u2019er was found.\nThus all things in their turn to sale I bring,\nGod and my master first, and then the King;\nTill, by successful villanies made bold,\nI thought to turn the nation into gold;\nAnd so to forgery my hand I bent,\nNot doubting I could gull the Government;\nBut there was ruffled by the Parliament.\nAnd if I \u2019scaped the unhappy tree to climb,\n\u2019Twas want of law, and not for want of crime.\nBut my old friend,[22] who printed in my face\nA needful competence of English brass,\nHaving more business yet for me to do,\nAnd loth to lose his trusty servant so,\nManaged the matter with such art and skill\nAs saved his hero and threw down the bill.\nAnd now I\u2019m graced with unexpected honours,\nFor which I\u2019ll certainly abuse the donors.\nKnighted, and made a tribune of the people,\nWhose laws and properties I\u2019m like to keep well;\nThe _custos rotulorum_ of the City,\nAnd captain of the guards of their banditti.\nSurrounded by my catchpoles, I declare\nAgainst the needy debtor open war;\nI hang poor thieves for stealing of your pelf,\nAnd suffer none to rob you but myself.\nThe King commanded me to help reform ye,\nAnd how I\u2019ll do it, Miss shall inform ye.\nI keep the best seraglio in the nation,\nAnd hope in time to bring it into fashion.\nFor this my praise is sung by every bard,\nFor which Bridewell would be a just reward.\nIn print my panegyrics fill the streets,\nAnd hired gaol-birds their huzzas repeat.\nSome charities contrived to make a show,\nHave taught the needy rabble to do so,\nWhose empty noise is a mechanic fame,\nSince for Sir Belzebub they\u2019d do the same.\nThe Conclusion\nThen let us boast of ancestors no more,\nOr deeds of heroes done in days of yore,\nIn latent records of the ages past,\nBehind the rear of time, in long oblivion placed.\nFor if our virtues must in lines descend,\nThe merit with the families would end,\nAnd intermixtures would most fatal grow;\nFor vice would be hereditary too;\nThe tainted blood would of necessity\nInvoluntary wickedness convey.\nVice, like ill-nature, for an age or two\nMay seem a generation to pursue;\nBut virtue seldom does regard the breed;\nFools do the wise, and wise men fools succeed.\nWhat is\u2019t to us what ancestors we had?\nIf good, what better? or what worse, if bad?\nExamples are for imitation set,\nYet all men follow virtue with regret.\nCould but our ancestors retrieve the fate,\nAnd see their offspring thus degenerate;\nHow we contend for birth and names unknown,\nAnd build on their past actions, not our own;\nThey\u2019d cancel records, and their tombs deface,\nAnd openly disown the vile degenerate race:\nFor fame of families is all a cheat,\n\u2019Tis personal virtue only makes us great.\nTHE SHORTEST WAY WITH\nTHE DISSENTERS;\nOR,\nPROPOSALS FOR THE ESTABLISHMENT\nOF\nTHE CHURCH\nTHE SHORTEST WAY WITH\nTHE DISSENTERS\nSir Roger L\u2019Estrange tells us a story in his collection of fables, of\nthe cock and the horses. The cock was gotten to roost in the stable\namong the horses, and there being no racks or other conveniences for\nhim, it seems he was forced to roost upon the ground. The horses\njostling about for room, and putting the cock in danger of his life, he\ngives them this grave advice, \u201cPray, gentlefolks, let us stand still,\nfor fear we should tread upon one another.\u201d\nThere are some people in the world, who now they are unperched, and\nreduced to an equality with other people, and under strong and very\njust apprehensions of being further treated as they deserve, begin,\nwith \u00c6sop\u2019s cock, to preach up peace and union, and the Christian\nduties of moderation, for getting that, when they had the power in\ntheir hands, these graces were strangers in their gates.\nIt is now near fourteen years[23] that the glory and peace of the\npurest and most flourishing Church in the world has been eclipsed,\nbuffeted, and disturbed by a sort of men whom God in His providence has\nsuffered to insult over her and bring her down. These have been the\ndays of her humiliation and tribulation. She has borne with invincible\npatience the reproach of the wicked, and God has at last heard her\nprayers, and delivered her from the oppression of the stranger.\nAnd now they find their day is over, their power gone, and the throne\nof this nation possessed by a royal, English, true, and ever-constant\nmember of, and friend to, the Church of England. Now they find that\nthey are in danger of the Church of England\u2019s just resentments; now\nthey cry out peace, union, forbearance, and charity, as if the Church\nhad not too long harboured her enemies under her wing, and nourished\nthe viperous brood till they hiss and fly in the face of the mother\nthat cherished them.\nNo, gentlemen, the time of mercy is past, your day of grace is over;\nyou should have practised peace, and moderation, and charity, if you\nexpected any yourselves.\nWe have heard none of this lesson for fourteen years past. We have been\nhuffed and bullied with your Act of Toleration; you have told us that\nyou are the Church established by law, as well as others; have set up\nyour canting synagogues at our church doors, and the Church and members\nhave been loaded with reproaches, with oaths, associations,\nabjurations, and what not. Where has been the mercy, the forbearance,\nthe charity, you have shown to tender consciences of the Church of\nEngland, that could not take oaths as fast as you made them; that\nhaving sworn allegiance to their lawful and rightful King, could not\ndispense with that oath, their King being still alive, and swear to\nyour new hodge-podge of a Dutch Government? These have been turned out\nof their livings, and they and their families left to starve; their\nestates double taxed to carry on a war they had no hand in, and you got\nnothing by. What account can you give of the multitudes you have forced\nto comply, against their consciences, with your new sophistical\npolitics, who, like new converts in France, sin because they cannot\nstarve? And now the tables are turned upon you; you must not be\npersecuted; it is not a Christian spirit.\nYou have butchered one king, deposed another king, and made a mock king\nof a third,[24] and yet you could have the face to expect to be\nemployed and trusted by the fourth. Anybody that did not know the\ntemper of your party would stand amazed at the impudence, as well as\nfolly, to think of it.\nYour management of your Dutch monarch, whom you reduced to a mere King\nof Clouts, is enough to give any future princes such an idea of your\nprinciples as to warn them sufficiently from coming into your clutches;\nand God be thanked the Queen is out of your hands, knows you, and will\nhave a care of you.\nThere is no doubt but the supreme authority of a nation has in itself a\npower, and a right to that power, to execute the laws upon any part of\nthat nation it governs. The execution of the known laws of the land,\nand that with a weak and gentle hand neither, was all this fanatical\nparty of this land have ever called persecution; this they have\nmagnified to a height, that the sufferings of the Huguenots in France\nwere not to be compared with. Now, to execute the known laws of a\nnation upon those who transgress them, after voluntarily consenting to\nthe making those laws, can never be called persecution, but justice.\nBut justice is always violence to the party offending, for every man is\ninnocent in his own eyes. The first execution of the laws against\nDissenters in England was in the days of King James the First;[25] and\nwhat did it amount to truly? The worst they suffered was at their own\nrequest: to let them go to New England and erect a new colony, and give\nthem great privileges, grants, and suitable powers, keep them under\nprotection, and defend them against all invaders, and receive no taxes\nor revenue from them. This was the cruelty of the Church of England.\nFatal leniency! It was the ruin of that excellent prince, King Charles\nthe First. Had King James sent all the Puritans in England away to the\nWest Indies, we had been a national, unmixed Church; the Church of\nEngland had been kept undivided and entire.\nTo requite the lenity of the father they take up arms against the son;\nconquer, pursue, take, imprison, and at last put to death the anointed\nof God, and destroy the very being and nature of government, setting up\na sordid impostor, who had neither title to govern nor understanding to\nmanage, but supplied that want with power, bloody and desperate\ncounsels, and craft without conscience.\nHad not King James the First withheld the full execution of the laws,\nhad he given them strict justice, he had cleared the nation of them,\nand the consequences had been plain: his son had never been murdered by\nthem nor the monarchy overwhelmed. It was too much mercy shown them,\nwas the ruin of his posterity and the ruin of the nation\u2019s peace. One\nwould think the Dissenters should not have the face to believe that we\nare to be wheedled and canted into peace and toleration when they know\nthat they have once requited us with a civil war, and once with an\nintolerable and unrighteous persecution for our former civility.\nNay, to encourage us to be easy with them, it is apparent that they\nnever had the upper hand of the Church, but they treated her with all\nthe severity, with all the reproach and contempt that was possible.\nWhat peace and what mercy did they show the loyal gentry of the Church\nof England in the time of their triumphant Commonwealth? How did they\nput all the gentry of England to ransom, whether they were actually in\narms for the King or not, making people compound for their estates and\nstarve their families? How did they treat the clergy of the Church of\nEngland, sequestered the ministers, devoured the patrimony of the\nChurch, and divided the spoil by sharing the Church lands among their\nsoldiers, and turning her clergy out to starve? Just such measure as\nthey have meted should be measured them again.\nCharity and love is the known doctrine of the Church of England, and it\nis plain she has put it in practice towards the Dissenters, even beyond\nwhat they ought, till she has been wanting to herself, and in effect\nunkind to her sons, particularly in the too much lenity of King James\nthe First, mentioned before. Had he so rooted the Puritans from the\nface of the land, which he had an opportunity early to have done, they\nhad not had the power to vex the Church as since they have done.\nIn the days of King Charles the Second, how did the Church reward their\nbloody doings with lenity and mercy, except the barbarous regicides of\nthe pretended court of justice? Not a soul suffered for all the blood\nin an unnatural war. King Charles came in all mercy and love, cherished\nthem, preferred them, employed them, withheld the rigour of the law,\nand oftentimes, even against the advice of his Parliament, gave them\nliberty of conscience;[26] and how did they requite him with the\nvillainous contrivance to depose and murder him and his successor at\nthe Rye Plot?[27]\nKing James, as if mercy was the inherent quality of the family, began\nhis reign with unusual favour to them. Nor could their joining with the\nDuke of Monmouth against him move him to do himself justice upon them;\nbut that mistaken prince thought to win them by gentleness and love,\nproclaimed an universal liberty to them, and rather discountenanced the\nChurch of England than them.[28] How they requited him all the world\nknows.\nThe late reign is too fresh in the memory of all the world to need a\ncomment; how, under pretence of joining with the Church in redressing\nsome grievances, they pushed things to that extremity, in conjunction\nwith some mistaken gentlemen, as to depose the late King, as if the\ngrievance of the nation could not have been redressed but by the\nabsolute ruin of the prince. Here is an instance of their temper, their\npeace, and charity. To what height they carried themselves during the\nreign of a king of their own; how they crept into all places of trust\nand profit; how they insinuated into the favour of the King, and were\nat first preferred to the highest places in the nation; how they\nengrossed the ministry, and above all, how pitifully they managed, is\ntoo plain to need any remarks.\nBut particularly their mercy and charity, the spirit of union, they\ntell us so much of, has been remarkable in Scotland. If any man would\nsee the spirit of a Dissenter, let him look into Scotland. There they\nmade entire conquest of the Church, trampled down the sacred orders,\nand suppressed the Episcopal government with an absolute, and, as they\nsuppose, irretrievable victory, though it is possible they may find\nthemselves mistaken. Now it would be a very proper question to ask\ntheir impudent advocate, the Observator, pray how much mercy and favour\ndid the members of the Episcopal Church find in Scotland from the\nScotch Presbyterian Government? and I shall undertake for the Church of\nEngland that the Dissenters shall still receive as much here, though\nthey deserve but little.\nIn a small treatise of the sufferings of the Episcopal clergy in\nScotland, it will appear what usage they met with; how they not only\nlost their livings, but in several places were plundered and abused in\ntheir persons; the ministers that could not conform turned out with\nnumerous families and no maintenance, and hardly charity enough left to\nrelieve them with a bit of bread. And the cruelties of the parties are\ninnumerable, and not to be attempted in this short piece.\nAnd now to prevent the distant cloud which they perceived to hang over\ntheir heads from England. With a true Presbyterian policy, they put in\nfor a union of nations, that England might unite their Church with the\nKirk of Scotland, and their Presbyterian members sit in our House of\nCommons, and their Assembly of Scotch canting long-cloaks in our\nConvocation. What might have been if our fanatic Whiggish statesmen\ncontinued, God only knows; but we hope we are out of fear of that now.\nIt is alleged by some of the faction\u2014and they began to bully us with\nit\u2014that if we won\u2019t unite with them, they will not settle the crown\nwith us again, but when Her Majesty dies, will choose a king for\nthemselves.\nIf they won\u2019t, we must make them, and it is not the first time we have\nlet them know that we are able. The crowns of these kingdoms have not\nso far disowned the right of succession, but they may retrieve it\nagain; and if Scotland thinks to come off from a successive to an\nelective state of government, England has not promised not to assist\nthe right heir and put them into possession without any regard to their\nridiculous settlements.[29]\nThese are the gentlemen, these their ways of treating the Church, both\nat home and abroad. Now let us examine the reasons they pretend to give\nwhy we should be favourable to them, why we should continue and\ntolerate them among us.\nFirst, they are very numerous, they say; they are a great part of the\nnation, and we cannot suppress them.\nTo this may be answered:\u2014 1. They are not so numerous as the\nProtestants in France, and yet the French King effectually cleared the\nnation of them at once, and we don\u2019t find he misses them at home.[30]\nBut I am not of the opinion they are so numerous as is pretended; their\nparty is more numerous than their persons, and those mistaken people of\nthe Church who are misled and deluded by their wheedling artifices to\njoin with them, make their party the greater; but these will open their\neyes when the Government shall set heartily about the work, and come\noff from them, as some animals which they say always desert a house\nwhen it is likely to fall.\n2. The more numerous the more dangerous, and therefore the more need to\nsuppress them; and God has suffered us to bear them as goads in our\nsides for not utterly extinguishing them long ago.\n3. If we are to allow them only because we cannot suppress them, then\nit ought to be tried whether we can or not; and I am of opinion it is\neasy to be done, and could prescribe ways and means, if it were proper;\nbut I doubt not the Government will find effectual methods for the\nrooting the contagion from the face of this land.\nAnother argument they use, which is this, that it is a time of war, and\nwe have need to unite against the common enemy.\nWe answer, this common enemy had been no enemy if they had not made him\nso. He was quiet in peace, and no way disturbed or encroached upon us,\nand we know no reason we had to quarrel with him.\nBut further, we make no question but we are able to deal with this\ncommon enemy without their help; but why must we unite with them\nbecause of the enemy? Will they go over to the enemy if we do not\nprevent it by a union with them? We are very well contented they\nshould, and make no question we shall be ready to deal with them and\nthe common enemy too, and better without them than with them.\nBesides, if we have a common enemy, there is the more need to be secure\nagainst our private enemies. If there is one common enemy, we have the\nless need to have an enemy in our bowels.\nIt was a great argument some people used against suppressing the old\nmoney, that it was a time of war, and it was too great a risk for the\nnation to run; if we should not master it, we should be undone. And yet\nthe sequel proved the hazard was not so great but it might be mastered,\nand the success was answerable. The suppressing the Dissenters is not a\nharder work nor a work of less necessity to the public. We can never\nenjoy a settled, uninterrupted union and tranquillity in this nation\ntill the spirit of Whiggism, faction, and schism is melted down like\nthe old money.\nTo talk of the difficulty is to frighten ourselves with chimeras and\nnotions of a powerful party, which are indeed a party without power.\nDifficulties often appear greater at a distance than when they are\nsearched into with judgment and distinguished from the vapours and\nshadows that attend them.\nWe are not to be frightened with it; this age is wiser than that by all\nour own experience and theirs too. King Charles the First had early\nsuppressed this party if he had taken more deliberate measures. In\nshort, it is not worth arguing to talk of their arms. Their Monmouths,\nand Shaftesburys, and Argyles are gone; their Dutch sanctuary is at an\nend; Heaven has made way for their destruction, and if we do not close\nwith the Divine occasion, we are to blame ourselves, and may remember\nthat we had once an opportunity to serve the Church of England by\nextirpating her implacable enemies, and having let slip the minute that\nHeaven presented, may experimentally complain, _Post est occasio\ncalva_.\nHere are some popular objections in the way:\u2014\nAs first, the Queen has promised them to continue them in their\ntolerated liberty, and has told us she will be a religious observer of\nher word.\nWhat Her Majesty will do we cannot help; but what, as head of the\nChurch, she ought to do, is another case. Her Majesty has promised to\nprotect and defend the Church of England, and if she cannot effectually\ndo that without the destruction of the Dissenters, she must of course\ndispense with one promise to comply with another. But to answer this\ncavil more effectually: Her Majesty did never promise to maintain the\ntoleration to the destruction of the Church; but it is upon supposition\nthat it may be compatible with the well-being and safety of the Church,\nwhich she had declared she would take especial care of. Now if these\ntwo interests clash, it is plain Her Majesty\u2019s intentions are to\nuphold, protect, defend, and establish the Church, and this we conceive\nis impossible.\nPerhaps it may be said that the Church is in no immediate danger from\nthe Dissenters, and therefore it is time enough. But this is a weak\nanswer.\nFor first, if a danger be real, the distance of it is no argument\nagainst, but rather a spur to quicken us to prevention, lest it be too\nlate hereafter.\nAnd secondly, here is the opportunity, and the only one perhaps that\never the Church had, to secure herself and destroy her enemies.\nThe representatives of the nation have now an opportunity; the time is\ncome which all good men have wished for, that the gentlemen of England\nmay serve the Church of England. Now they are protected and encouraged\nby a Church of England Queen.\nWhat will you do for your sister in the day that she shall be spoken\nfor?\nIf ever you will establish the best Christian Church in the world; if\never you will suppress the spirit of enthusiasm; if ever you will free\nthe nation from the viperous brood that have so long sucked the blood\nof their mother; if ever you will leave your posterity free from\nfaction and rebellion, this is the time. This is the time to pull up\nthis heretical weed of sedition that has so long disturbed the peace of\nour Church and poisoned the good corn.\nBut, says another hot and cold objector, this is renewing fire and\nfaggot, reviving the act _De Heretico Comburendo_; this will be cruelty\nin its nature, and barbarous to all the world.\nI answer, it is cruelty to kill a snake or a toad in cold blood, but\nthe poison of their nature makes it a charity to our neighbours to\ndestroy those creatures, not for any personal injury received, but for\nprevention; not for the evil they have done, but the evil they may do.\nSerpents, toads, vipers, &c., are noxious to the body, and poison the\nsensitive life; these poison the soul, corrupt our posterity, ensnare\nour children, destroy the vitals of our happiness, our future felicity,\nand contaminate the whole mass.\nShall any law be given to such wild creatures? Some beasts are for\nsport, and the huntsmen give them advantages of ground; but some are\nknocked on the head by all possible ways of violence and surprise.\nI do not prescribe fire and faggot, but, as Scipio said of Carthage,\n_Delenda est Carthago_. They are to be rooted out of this nation, if\never we will live in peace, serve God, or enjoy our own. As for the\nmanner, I leave it to those hands who have a right to execute God\u2019s\njustice on the nation\u2019s and the Church\u2019s enemies.\nBut if we must be frighted from this justice under the specious\npretences and odious sense of cruelty, nothing will be effected: it\nwill be more barbarous to our own children and dear posterity when they\nshall reproach their fathers, as we do ours, and tell us, \u201cYou had an\nopportunity to root out this cursed race from the world under the\nfavour and protection of a true English queen; and out of your foolish\npity you spared them, because, forsooth, you would not be cruel; and\nnow our Church is suppressed and persecuted, our religion trampled\nunder foot, our estates plundered, our persons imprisoned and dragged\nto jails, gibbets, and scaffolds: your sparing this Amalekite race is\nour destruction, your mercy to them proves cruelty to your poor\nposterity.\u201d\nHow just will such reflections be when our posterity shall fall under\nthe merciless clutches of this uncharitable generation, when our Church\nshall be swallowed up in schism, faction, enthusiasm, and confusion;\nwhen our Government shall be devolved upon foreigners, and our monarchy\ndwindled into a republic.\nIt would be more rational for us, if we must spare this generation, to\nsummon our own to a general massacre, and as we have brought them into\nthe world free, send them out so, and not betray them to destruction by\nour supine negligence, and then cry, \u201cIt is mercy.\u201d\nMoses was a merciful, meek man, and yet with what fury did he run\nthrough the camp, and cut the throats of three-and-thirty thousand of\nhis dear Israelites that were fallen into idolatry. What was the\nreason? It was mercy to the rest to make these examples, to prevent the\ndestruction of the whole army.\nHow many millions of future souls we save from infection and delusion\nif the present race of poisoned spirits were purged from the face of\nthe land!\nIt is vain to trifle in this matter, the light, foolish handling of\nthem by mulcts, fines, &c.,\u2014it is their glory and their advantage. If\nthe gallows instead of the Counter, and the galleys instead of the\nfines, were the reward of going to a conventicle, to preach or hear,\nthere would not be so many sufferers. The spirit of martyrdom is over;\nthey that will go to church to be chosen sheriffs and mayors would go\nto forty churches rather than be hanged.\nIf one severe law were made and punctually executed, that whoever was\nfound at a conventicle should be banished the nation and the preacher\nbe hanged, we should soon see an end of the tale. They would all come\nto church, and one age would make us all one again.\nTo talk of five shillings a month for not coming to the sacrament, and\none shilling per week for not coming to church, this is such a way of\nconverting people as never was known; this is selling them a liberty to\ntransgress for so much money. If it be not a crime, why don\u2019t we give\nthem full license? And if it be, no price ought to compound for the\ncommitting it, for that is selling a liberty to people to sin against\nGod and the Government.\nIf it be a crime of the highest consequence both against the peace and\nwelfare of the nation, the glory of God, the good of the Church, and\nthe happiness of the soul, let us rank it among capital offences, and\nlet it receive a punishment in proportion to it.\nWe hang men for trifles, and banish them for things not worth naming;\nbut an offence against God and the Church, against the welfare of the\nworld and the dignity of religion, shall be bought off for five\nshillings! This is such a shame to a Christian Government that it is\nwith regret I transmit it to posterity.\nIf men sin against God, affront His ordinances, rebel against His\nChurch, and disobey the precepts of their superiors, let them suffer as\nsuch capital crimes deserve. So will religion flourish, and this\ndivided nation be once again united.\nAnd yet the title of barbarous and cruel will soon be taken off from\nthis law too. I am not supposing that all the Dissenters in England\nshould be hanged or banished, but, as in cases of rebellions and\ninsurrections, if a few of the ringleaders suffer, the multitude are\ndismissed; so, a few obstinate people being made examples, there is no\ndoubt but the severity of the law would find a stop in the compliance\nof the multitude.\nTo make the reasonableness of this matter out of question, and more\nunanswerably plain, let us examine for what it is that this nation is\ndivided into parties and factions, and let us see how they can justify\na separation, or we of the Church of England can justify our bearing\nthe insults and inconveniences of the party.\nOne of their leading pastors,[31] and a man of as much learning as most\namong them, in his answer to a pamphlet, entitled \u201cAn Inquiry into the\nOccasional Conformity,\u201d has these words, p. 27, \u201cDo the religion of the\nChurch and the meeting-houses make two religions? Wherein do they\ndiffer? The substance of the same religion is common to them both; and\nthe modes and accidents are the things in which only they differ.\u201d P.\n28: \u201cThirty-nine articles are given us for the summary of our religion;\nthirty-six contain the substance of it, wherein we agree; three, the\nadditional appendices, about which we have some differences.\u201d\nNow, if as by their own acknowledgment the Church of England is a true\nChurch, and the difference between them is only in a few modes and\naccidents, why should we expect that they will suffer galleys,\ncorporeal punishment, and banishment for these trifles? There is no\nquestion but they will be wiser; even their own principles will not\nbear them out in it; they will certainly comply with the laws and with\nreason; and though at the first severity they may seem hard, the next\nage will feel nothing of it; the contagion will be rooted out; the\ndisease being cured, there will be no need of the operation; but if\nthey should venture to transgress and fall into the pit, all the world\nmust condemn their obstinacy, as being without ground from their own\nprinciples.\nThus the pretence of cruelty will be taken off, and the party actually\nsuppressed, and the disquiets they have so often brought upon the\nnation prevented.\nTheir numbers and their wealth make them haughty, and that is so far\nfrom being an argument to persuade us to forbear them, that it is a\nwarning to us, without any delay, to reconcile them to the unity of the\nChurch or remove them from us.\nAt present, Heaven be praised, they are not so formidable as they have\nbeen, and it is our own fault if ever we suffer them to be so.\nProvidence and the Church of England seem to join in this particular,\nthat now the destroyers of the nation\u2019s peace may be overturned, and to\nthis end the present opportunity seems to be put into our hands.\nTo this end her present Majesty seems reserved to enjoy the crown, that\nthe ecclesiastic as well as civil rights of the nation may be restored\nby her hand. To this end the face of affairs have received such a turn\nin the process of a few months as never has been before; the leading\nmen of the nation, the universal cry of the people, the unanimous\nrequest of the clergy, agree in this, that the deliverance of our\nChurch is at hand. For this end has Providence given us such a\nParliament, such a Convocation, such a gentry, and such a Queen as we\nnever had before. And what may be the consequences of a neglect of such\nopportunities? The succession of the crown has but a dark prospect;\nanother Dutch turn may make the hopes of it ridiculous and the practice\nimpossible. Be the house of our future princes never so well inclined,\nthey will be foreigners, and many years will be spent in suiting the\ngenius of strangers to this crown and the interests of the nation; and\nhow many ages it may be before the English throne be filled with so\nmuch zeal and can dour, so much tenderness and hearty affection to the\nChurch as we see it now covered with, who can imagine?\nIt is high time, then, for the friends of the Church of England to\nthink of building up and establishing her in such a manner that she may\nbe no more invaded by foreigners nor divided by factions, schisms, and\nerror.\nIf this could be done by gentle and easy methods, I should be glad; but\nthe wound is corroded, the vitals begin to mortify, and nothing but\namputation of members can complete the cure; all the ways of tenderness\nand compassion, all persuasive arguments, have been made use of in\nvain.\nThe humour of the Dissenters has so increased among the people, that\nthey hold the Church in defiance, and the house of God is an\nabomination among them; nay, they have brought up their posterity in\nsuch prepossessed aversions to our holy religion, that the ignorant mob\nthink we are all idolaters and worshippers of Baal, and account it a\nsin to come within the walls of our churches.\nThe primitive Christians were not more shy of a heathen temple or of\nmeat offered to idols, nor the Jews of swine\u2019s flesh, than some of our\nDissenters are of the Church, and the divine service solemnised\ntherein.\nThis obstinacy must be rooted out with the profession of it; while the\ngeneration are less at liberty daily to affront God Almighty and\ndishonour His holy worship, we are wanting in our duty to God and our\nmother, the Church of England.\nHow can we answer it to God, to the Church, and to our posterity to\nleave them entangled with fanaticism, error, and obstinacy in the\nbowels of the nation; to leave them an enemy in their streets, that in\ntime may involve them in the same crimes, and endanger the utter\nextirpation of religion in the nation?\nWhat is the difference betwixt this and being subjected to the power of\nthe Church of Rome, from whence we have reformed? If one be an extreme\non one hand, and one on another, it is equally destructive to the truth\nto have errors settled among us, let them be of what nature they will.\nBoth are enemies of our Church and of our peace; and why should it not\nbe as criminal to admit an enthusiast as a Jesuit? Why should the\nPapist with his seven sacraments be worse than the Quaker with no\nsacraments at all? Why should religious houses be more intolerable than\nmeeting-houses? Alas, the Church of England! What with Popery on one\nhand, and schismatics on the other, how has she been crucified between\ntwo thieves!\nNow let us crucify the thieves. Let her foundations be established upon\nthe destruction of her enemies. The doors of mercy being always open to\nthe returning part of the deluded people, let the obstinate be ruled\nwith the rod of iron.\nLet all true sons of so holy and oppressed a mother, exasperated by her\nafflictions, harden their hearts against those who have oppressed her.\nAnd may God Almighty put it into the hearts of all the friends of truth\nto lift up a standard against pride and Antichrist, that the posterity\nof the sons of error may be rooted out from the face of this land for\never.\nFOOTNOTES\nFootnote 1: _Hours in a Library_.\nFootnote 2: Wilson\u2019s _ Memoirs of Defoe_, London, 1830, III., p. 429.\nFootnote 3: Defoe mentions the letter in his _Review_ for August 11th,\nFootnote 4: I was not called Colonel Jacque as at London, but Colonel,\nand they did not know me by any other name.\nFootnote 5: He did not now talk quite so blindly and childishly as when\nhe was a boy, and when the custom-house gentleman talked to him about\nhis names.\nFootnote 6: Here he showed him the horsewhip that was given him with\nhis new office.\nFootnote 7: So the negroes call the owner of the plantation, or at\nleast so they called him, because he was a great man in the country,\nhaving three or four large plantations.\nFootnote 8: To be drunk in a negro is to be mad; for when they get rum\nthey are worse than raving, and fit to do any manner of mischief.\nFootnote 9: He understood the plot, and took the opportunity to tell\nhim that, to see what he would say.\nFootnote 10: He understood him; he meant he would beg your honour for\nme, that I might not be hanged for offending you.\nFootnote 11: This old proverb was quoted by Robert Burton in his\n\u201cAnatomy of Melancholy\u201d (1621), \u201cWhere God hath a temple the Devil hath\na chapel\u201d (Part III. sc. iv. subs. 1). It was also No. 670 in George\nHerbert\u2019s \u201cJacula Prudentium,\u201d first published in 1640, where it ran,\n\u201cNo sooner is a temple built to God but the Devil builds a chapel hard\nby.\u201d Defoe was the first rhymer of the proverb, and the rider to it is\nhis own.\nFootnote 12: William the Conqueror. [D.F.]\nFootnote 13: Or archer. [D.F.]\nFootnote 14: Dr. Sherlock, _de facto_. [D.F.]\nFootnote 15: K. J. I. [D.F.]\nFootnote 16: K. C. II. [D.F.]\nFootnote 17: Lady Castlemaine, of the Italian-French family of Villars,\nwas first known to Charles II. as Mrs. Palmer. Afterwards her husband\nwas made Earl of Castlemaine, and in 1668 she was made Duchess of\nCleveland. Of the cost of this woman Andrew Marvell wrote:\u2014\u201cThey have\nsigned and sealed ten thousand pounds a year more to the Duchess of\nCleveland; who has likewise near ten thousand pounds a year out of the\nnew farm of the country excise of beer and ale; five thousand pounds a\nyear out of the Post Office; and, they say, the reversion of all the\nKing\u2019s leases, the reversion of all places in the Custom House, the\ngreen-wax, and, indeed, what not? All promotions, spiritual and\ntemporal, pass under her cognisance,\u201d &c. Charles II. had by her five\nchildren.\nFootnote 18: Louise Ren\u00e9e de Puencovet de Queroualle came over to Dover\nas a maid of honour, and was created Duchess of Portsmouth in August\n1673. She cost as much as Lady Castlemaine. Her son, Charles Lennox,\nwas made Duke of Richmond. The Duchess of Portsmouth was living when\nthis satire appeared. She died in 1734.\nFootnote 19: Frederick de Schomberg, an old favourite of King\nWilliam\u2019s, was made Duke of Schomberg on the 10th of April 1689.\nAnother friend of the King\u2019s, William Bentinck, was created Earl of\nPortland on the 9th of April 1689. His son and heir was raised to a\ndukedom in 1716.\nFootnote 20: The drunkard\u2019s name for Canary. [D.F.]\nFootnote 21: \u201cMobile,\u201d applied to the movable, unstable populace, was\nfirst abridged to \u201cmob\u201d in Charles the Second\u2019s time.\nFootnote 22: The Devil.\u2014[D.F.]\nFootnote 23: Dating from 1688-89, the Revolution and accession of King\nWilliam III.\nFootnote 24: Charles I., James II., William III.\nFootnote 25: On the 16th of July, 1604, the Puritan clergy within the\nChurch were required to conform on or before the 30th of November on\npain of expulsion. On the 4th of December Whitgift\u2019s successor, Richard\nBancroft, was consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury. He strictly carried\nout this order, and declared every man, cleric or lay, to be\nexcommunicated who questioned the complete accordance of the Prayer\nBook with the Word of God. On the 6th of September, 1620, the\n_Mayflower_ left England with the first freight of English families\nthat sought freedom of worship where they came to be the founders of a\nNew England across the sea.\nFootnote 26: Charles II. unconstitutionally suspended the penal laws\nagainst nonconformists and recusants in 1679.\nFootnote 27: The story of the Rye House Plot was used for bringing\nAlgernon Sidney and Lord William Russell to the scaffold.\nFootnote 28: James II. unconstitutionally suspended the penal laws\nagainst nonconformists and recusants by Declarations of Indulgence in\nFootnote 29: The oath taken by Tories against the legal right of the\nPretender to the crown was said to reserve the question of his divine\nright of succession. Divine right was unchangeable, but laws were\nliable to change\u2014and so far as they go, what to-day is treason may be\nloyalty to-morrow.\nFootnote 30: The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes was signed on the\n17th of October 1685. All Protestant churches were to be demolished,\nand their ministers who would not be converted were to leave France\nwithin a fortnight. Fugitive reformers who did not return within four\nmonths would have their property confiscated. Lay Reformers were\nforbidden to leave France, on pain of the galleys for men and\nconfiscation of body and goods for women. Those who remained were\nexposed to cruelties of the soldiery. The King thought that his way of\nconversion by dragoons had reduced a million and a half of French\nheretics to twelve or fifteen thousand; but between the Revocation and\nthe time when Defoe wrote this pamphlet, it has been estimated that\n250,000 French Protestants left France to establish homes in England\nand elsewhere.\nFootnote 31: John Howe, in his answer to Defoe\u2019s request for a\nstatement of opinion from him on Occasional Conformity.\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The History and Remarkable Life of the\nTruly Honourable Colonel Jacque, Commonly called Colonel Jack, by Daniel Defoe\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLONEL JACK ***\n***** This file should be named 52603-0.txt or 52603-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by\nGoogle Books (Robarts - University of Toronto)\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by StevenGibbs, Val Wooff and the Online\nTHE\nSTORM.\nAN\nESSAY.\n  1704 title: An Elegy on the Author of the True-Born-English-Man.\n  With an essay on the late storm.\n  By the author of the Hymn to the Pillory.\nTHE STORM. AN ESSAY.\n    I'm told, _for we have News among the Dead_,\n      Heaven lately spoke, but few knew what it said;\n      The Voice, in loudest Tempests spoke,\n    And Storms, which Nature's strong Foundation shook.\n    _I felt it hither_, and I'd have you know\n    I heard the Voice, and knew the Language too.\n      Think it not strange I heard it here,\n    No Place is so remote, but when _he speaks_, they hear.\n      Besides, tho' I am dead in Fame,\n      Tho' I have lost Poetick Breath,\n      I'm not in perfect State of Death:\n    From whence this _Popish Consequence_ I draw,\n      _I'm in the_ Limbus _of the Law_.\n    Let me be where I will I heard the Storm,\n    From every Blast _it eccho'd thus, REFORM_;\n    I felt the mighty Shock, and saw the Night,\n    When Guilt look'd pale, and own'd the Fright;\n      And every Time the raging Element\n    Shook _London_'s lofty Towers, at every Rent                        20\n    The falling Timbers gave, _they cry'd, REPENT_.\n    I saw, when all the stormy Crew,\n      Newly commission'd from on high,\n    Newly instructed what to do,\n      In Lowring, Cloudy, Troops drew nigh:\n      They hover'd o'er the guilty Land,\n    As if they had been backward to obey;\n    As if they wondred at the sad Command,\n      And pity'd those they shou'd destroy.\n    But Heaven, that long had gentler Methods tried,                     30\n    And saw those gentler Methods all defied,\n      Had now resolv'd to be obey'd.\n    The Queen, an Emblem of the _soft, still, Voice_,\n    Had told the Nation how to make their Choice;\n      Told them the only Way to Happiness\n      Was by the Blessed Door of Peace.\n    But the unhappy Genius of the Land,\n    Deaf to the Blessing, as to the Command,\n      Scorn the high Caution, and contemn the News,\n      And all the blessed Thoughts of Peace refuse.                      40\n    Since Storms are then the Nation's Choice,\n    _Be Storms their Portion, said the Heavenly Voice_:\n      He said, and I could hear no more,\n    So soon th' obedient Troops began to roar:\n      So soon the blackning Clouds drew near,\n    And fill'd with loudest Storms the trembling Air:\n      I thought I felt the World's Foundation shake,\n    And lookt when all the wondrous Frame would break.\n      I trembl'd as the Winds grew high,\n    For he whose Valour scorns his Sence,\n    Has chang'd his Courage into Impudence.\n      Man may to Man his Valour show,\n      And 'tis his Vertue to do so.\n    But if he's of his Maker not afraid,\n    He's not courageous then, but mad.\n      Soon as I heard the horrid Blast,\n      And understood how long 'twould last,\n    View'd all the Fury of the Element,\n    And _unto whom_ for Punishment:\n      It brought my Hero to my Mind,\n    _William_, the Glorious, Great, and Good, and Kind.\n      Short Epithets to his Just Memory;\n    The first he was to all the World, _the last to me_.\n    The mighty Genius to my Thought appear'd,\n      Just in the same Concern he us'd to show,\n      When private Tempests us'd to blow,\n    Storms which the Monarch more than Death or Battel fear'd.\n    And made their mighty Malice known,\n      _I've heard the sighing Monarch say_,\n      The Publick Peace so near him lay,\n      It took the Pleasure of his Crown away.\n      It fill'd with Cares his Royal Breast;\n    Often he has those Cares Prophetickly exprest,\n      That when he should the Reins let go,\n    Heaven would some Token of its Anger show,\n      To let the thankless Nation see\n    How they despis'd their own Felicity.                                80\n      This robb'd the Hero of his Rest,\n    Disturb'd the Calm of his serener Breast.\n      When to the Queen the Scepter he resign'd,\n      With a resolv'd and steady Mind,\n    Tho' he rejoic'd to lay the Trifle down,\n    He pity'd Her to whom he left the Crown:\n      Foreseeing long and vig'rous Wars,\n    Foreseeing endless, private, Party Jarrs,\n      Would always interrupt Her Rest,\n    And fill with Anxious Cares Her Royal Breast.                        90\n      For Storms of Court Ambition rage as high\n      Almost as Tempests in the Sky.\n      Could I my hasty Doom retrieve,\n    And once more in the Land of Poets live,\n      I'd now the Men of Flags and Fortune greet,\n      And write an Elegy upon the Fleet.\n    First, those that on the Shore were idly found,\n    _Whom other Fate protects_, while better Men were drown'd,\n    They may thank God for being Knaves on Shore,\n    But sure the Q---- will never trust them more.                      100\n      They who rid out the Storm, and liv'd,\n    But saw not whence it was deriv'd,\n    Sensless of Danger, or the mighty Hand,\n    That could to cease, as well as blow, command,\n      Let such unthinking Creatures have a Care,\n      For some worse End prepare.\n      Let them look out for some such Day,\n    When what the Sea would not, _the Gallows may_.\n    Those that in former Dangers shunn'd the Fight,\n    But met their Ends in this Disast'rous Night,                       110\n      Have left this Caution, tho' too late,\n      That all Events are known to Fate.\n    Cowards avoid no Danger when they run,\n    And Courage scapes the Death it would not shun;\n      'Tis Nonsence from our Fate to fly,\n    All Men must once have Heart enough to die.\n      Those Sons of Plunder are below my Pen,\n    Because they are below the Names of Men;\n    Who from the Shores presenting to their Eyes\n    The Fatal _Goodwin_, where the Wreck of _Navies_ Lyes,              120\n    A thousand dying Saylors talking to the Skies.\n    From the sad Shores they saw the Wretches walk,\n      By Signals of Distress they talk;\n    There with one Tide of Life they're vext,\n      For all were sure to die the next.\n    The Barbarous Shores with Men and Boats abound,\n    The Men more Barbarous than the Shores are found;\n      Off to the shatter'd Ships they go,\n      And for the Floating Purchase Row.\n    But 'tis to save the Goods, and not the Men.\n    Within the sinking Supplaints Reach appear,\n      As if they'd mock their dying Fear.\n    Then for some Trifle all their Hopes supplant,\n    With Cruelty would make a _Turk_ relent.\n      If I had any _Satyr_ left to write,\n      Cou'd I with suited Spleen Indite,\n    My Verse should blast that Fatal Town,\n    And Drowned Saylors Widows pull it down;\n      And Ships no more Cast Anchor there.\n    The Barbarous Hated Name of _Deal_ shou'd die,\n      Or be a Term of Infamy;\n    And till that's done, the Town will stand\n      A just Reproach to all the Land.\n      The Ships come next to be my Theme,\n    The Men's the Loss, I'm not concern'd for them;\n      For had they perish'd e'er they went,\n      Where to no Purpose they were sent,\n    And we had sav'd the Money and the Men.\n      There the Mighty Wrecks appear,\n    _Hic Jacent_, Useless Things of War.\n      Graves of Men, and Tools of State,\n    There you lye too soon, there you lye too late.\n      But O ye Mighty Ships of War!\n      What in Winter did you there?\n    Wild _November_ should our Ships restore\n      To _Chatham_, _Portsmouth_, and the _Nore_,\n    For Heaven it self is not unkind,\n    If Winter Storms he'll sometimes send,\n      Since 'tis suppos'd the Men of War\n      Are all laid up, and left secure.\n    Nor did our Navy feell alone,\n      The dreadful Desolation;\n    It shook the _Walls of Flesh_ as well as Stone,\n      And ruffl'd all the Nation.\n      The Universal Fright\n    Made Guilty _H----_ expect his Fatal Night;                         170\n      His harden'd Soul began to doubt,\n    And Storms grew high within, as they grew high without.\n      Flaming Meteors fill'd the Air,\n    But _Asgil_ miss'd his _Fiery Chariot_ there;\n      Recall'd his black blaspheming Breath,\n    And trembling paid his Homage unto Death.\n      _Terror appear'd in every Face_,\n    Even _Vile Blackbourn_ felt some shocks of Grace;\n    Began to feel the Hated Truth appear,\n    After _he had Burlesqu'd a God_ so long,\n      He should at last be in the wrong.\n      Some Power he plainly saw,\n    (And seeing, felt a strange unusual Awe;)\n      Some secret Hand he plainly found,\n      Was bringing some strange thing to pass,\n    And he that neither God nor Devil own'd,\n      Must needs be at a loss to guess.\n      Fain he would not ha' guest the worst,\n    But Guilt will always be with Terror Curst.                         190\n      Hell shook, for Devils Dread Almighty Power,\n    At every Shock they fear'd the Fatal Hour,\n      The Adamantine Pillars mov'd,\n    And Satan's _Pandemonium_ trembl'd too;\n      The tottering _Seraphs_ wildly rov'd,\n    Doubtful what the Almighty meant to do;\n    For in the darkest of the black Abode,\n    _There's not a Devil but believes a God_.\n      Old _Lucifer_ has sometimes try'd\n    But Devils nor Men the Being of God deny'd,\n    Till Men of late found out New Ways to sin,\n    And turn'd the Devil out to let the Atheist in.\n    But when the mighty Element began,\n      And Storms the weighty Truth explain,\n    Almighty Power upon the Whirlwind Rode,\n      And every Blast proclaim'd aloud\n    _There is, there is, there is_, a God.\n    Plague, Famine, Pestilence, and War,\n    The true Originals appear\n      Before the Effects begin:\n    But Storms and Tempests are above our Rules,\n      Here our Philosophers are Fools.\n    The _Stagyrite_ himself could never show,\n      From whence, nor how they blow.\n    Tis all Sublime, 'tis all a Mystery,\n    They see no Manner how, nor Reason why;\n    _All Sovereign Being_ is the amazing Theme,\n      From this First Cause our Tempest came,\n    And let the Atheists spight of Sense Blaspheme,\n      They can no room for Banter find,\n    Till they produce another Father for the Wind.\n    _Satyr_, thy Sense of Sovereign Being Declare,\n      He made the Mighty Prince o'th' Air,\n    And Devils recognize him by their Fear.\n      Ancient as Time, and Elder than the Light,\n    Ere the First Day, or Antecedent Night,\n    And long before Existence had a Name;\n    Before th' Expance of indigested Space,\n    While the vast _No-where_ fill'd the Room of Place.\n    Liv'd _the First Cause_ The First Great _Where_ and _Why_,\n    Existing _to and from_ Eternity,\n    Of His Great Self, and _of Necessity_.\n    _This I call God_, that One great Word of Fear,\n      At whose great sound,\n    When from his Mighty Breath 'tis eccho'd round,\n    Nature pays Homage with a trembling bow,                            240\n    And Conscious Men would faintly disallow;\n    The Secret Trepidation racks the Soul,\n    And while he says, no God, replies, thou Fool.\n      _But call it what we will_,\n    _First Being it had_, does Space and Substance fill.\n    Eternal Self-existing Power enjoy'd,\n    And whatsoe'er is so, _That same is God_.\n    If then it should fall out, as who can tell,\n      But that there is a Heaven and Hell,\n    Mankind had best consider well for fear                             250\n    'T should be too late when their Mistakes appear;\n      Such may in vain Reform,\n    Unless they do't before another Storm.\n      They tell us _Scotland_ scap'd the Blast;\n    No Nation else have been without a Taste:\n      All _Europe_ sure have felt the Mighty Shock,\n      'T has been a Universal Stroke.\n    But Heaven has other Ways to plague the _Scots_,\n      As Poverty and Plots.\n    Her Majesty Confirms it, what She said,                             260\n      I plainly heard it, tho' I'm dead.\n    The dangerous Sound has rais'd me from my Sleep,\n      I can no longer Silence keep,\n    Here _Satyr_'s thy Deliverance,\n    A Plot in _Scotland_, Hatch'd in _France_,\n    And Liberty the Old Pretence.\n      Prelatick Power with Popish join,\n    The Queens Just Government to undermine;\n      This is enough to wake the Dead,\n    The Call's too loud, it never shall be said                         270\n      The lazy _Satyr_ slept too long,\n    When all the Nations Danger Claim'd his Song.\n    Rise _Satyr_ from thy sleep of legal Death,\n      And reassume Satyrick Breath;\n    What tho' to Seven Years sleep thou art confin'd,\n      Thou well may'st wake with such a Wind.\n      Such Blasts as these can seldom blow,\n    But they're both form'd above and heard below.\n    Then wake and warn us now the Storms are past,\n    Lest Heaven return with a severer Blast.                            280\n      Wake and inform Mankind\n      Of Storms that still remain behind.\n      If from this Grave thou lift thy Head,\n    They'll surely mind one risen from the Dead.\n    Tho' _Moses_ and the Prophets can't prevail,\n      A Speaking _Satyr_ cannot fail.\n    Tell 'em while secret Discontents appear,\n      There'll ne'er be _Peace and Union_ here.\n      Have something farther in their End;\n      But let those hasty People know,\n    The Storms above reprove the Storms below,\n      And 'tis too often known,\n    The Storms below do Storms above Forerun;\n      They say this was a High-Church Storm,\n      Sent out the Nation to Reform;\n    But th' Emblem left the Moral in the Lurch,\n    For't blew the Steeple down upon the Church.\n      From whence we now inform the People,\n    The danger of the Church is from the Steeple.                       300\n      And we've had many a bitter stroke,\n      From Pinacle and Weather-Cock;\n    From whence the Learned do relate,\n    That to secure the Church and State,\n      The Time will come when all the Town\n      To save the Church, will pull the Steeple down.\n      Two Tempests are blown over, now prepare\n    For Storms of Treason and Intestine War.\n      The High-Church Fury to the North extends,\n        Occasional Conforming led the Way,\n    And now Occasional Rebellion comes in Play,\n        To let the Wond'ring Nation know,\n      That High-Church Honesty's an Empty Show,\n        A Phantasm of Delusive Air,\n      That as Occasion serves can disappear,\n        And Loyalty's a sensless Phrase,\n    An Empty Nothing which our interest sways,\n        And as that suffers this decays.\n        _That Church-men can Rebel_.\n    Faction we thought was by the Whigs Engross'd,\n    And _Forty One_ was banter'd till the Jest was lost.\n      _Bothwel_ and _Pentland-Hills_ were fam'd,\n    And _Gilly Cranky_ hardly nam'd.\n      If Living Poets Dare not speak,\n      _We that are Dead_ must Silence break;\n    And boldly let them know the Time's at Hand.\n    When Ecclesiastick Tempests shake the Land.\n    Prelatick Treason from the Crown divides,                           330\n      And now Rebellion changes sides.\n    Their Volumes with their Loyalty may swell,\n      But in their Turns too they Rebel;\n        Can Plot, Contrive, Assassinate,\n    And spight of Passive Laws disturb the State.\n    Let fair Pretences fill the Mouths of Men,\n        No fair Pretence shall blind my Pen;\n    They that _in such a Reign as this_ Rebel\n    Must needs be in Confederacy with Hell.\n      Oppressions, Tyranny and Pride,\n    But where the Laws with open Justice Rule,\n    He that Rebels _Must be both Knave and Fool_.\n    May Heaven the growing Mischief soon prevent,\n      And Traytors meet Reward in Punishment.\n_FINIS._", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Storm. An Essay\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\nTHE COMPLETE ENGLISH TRADESMAN\nBY\n_DANIEL DEFOE_\n[LONDON 1726, EDINBURGH 1839]\nCONTENTS\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE\nINTRODUCTION\nCHAPTER I\nTHE TRADESMAN IN HIS PREPARATIONS WHILE AN APPRENTICE\nCHAPTER II\nTHE TRADESMAN'S WRITING LETTERS\nCHAPTER III\nTHE TRADING STYLE\nCHAPTER IV\nOF THE TRADESMAN ACQUAINTING HIMSELF WITH ALL BUSINESS IN GENERAL\nCHAPTER V\nDILIGENCE AND APPLICATION IN BUSINESS\nCHAPTER VI\nOVER-TRADING\nCHAPTER VII\nOF THE TRADESMAN IN DISTRESS, AND BECOMING BANKRUPT\nCHAPTER VIII\nTHE ORDINARY OCCASIONS OF THE RUIN OF TRADESMEN\nCHAPTER IX\nOF OTHER REASONS FOR THE TRADESMAN'S DISASTERS: AND, FIRST, OF INNOCENT\nDIVERSIONS\nCHAPTER X\nOF EXTRAVAGANT AND EXPENSIVE LIVING; ANOTHER STEP TO A TRADESMAN'S\nDISASTER\nCHAPTER XI\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S MARRYING TOO SOON\nCHAPTER XII\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S LEAVING HIS BUSINESS TO SERVANTS\nCHAPTER XIII\nOF TRADESMEN MAKING COMPOSITION WITH DEBTORS, OR WITH CREDITORS\nCHAPTER XIV\nOF THE UNFORTUNATE TRADESMAN COMPOUNDING WITH HIS CREDITORS\nCHAPTER XV\nOF TRADESMEN RUINING ONE ANOTHER BY RUMOUR AND CLAMOUR, BY SCANDAL AND\nREPROACH\nCHAPTER XVI\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S ENTERING INTO PARTNERSHIP IN TRADE, AND THE MANY\nDANGERS ATTENDING IT\nCHAPTER XVII\nOF HONESTY IN DEALING, AND LYING\nCHAPTER XVIII\nOF THE CUSTOMARY FRAUDS OF TRADE, WHICH HONEST MEN ALLOW THEMSELVES TO\nPRACTISE, AND PRETEND TO JUSTIFY\nCHAPTER XIX\nOF FINE SHOPS, AND FINE SHOWS\nCHAPTER XX\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S KEEPING HIS BOOKS, AND CASTING UP HIS SHOP\nCHAPTER XXI\nOF THE TRADESMAN LETTING HIS WIFE BE ACQUAINTED WITH HIS BUSINESS\nCHAPTER XXII\nOF THE DIGNITY OF TRADE IN ENGLAND MORE THAN IN OTHER COUNTRIES\nCHAPTER XXIII\nOF THE INLAND TRADE OF ENGLAND, ITS MAGNITUDE, AND THE GREAT ADVANTAGE\nIT IS TO THE NATION IN GENERAL\nCHAPTER XXIV\nOF CREDIT IN TRADE, AND HOW A TRADESMAN OUGHT TO VALUE AND IMPROVE IT:\nHOW EASILY LOST, AND HOW HARD IT IS TO BE RECOVERED\nCHAPTER XXV\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S PUNCTUAL PAYING HIS BILLS AND PROMISSORY NOTES UNDER\nHIS HAND, AND THE CREDIT HE GAINS BY IT\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE\nThe title of this work is an index of the performance. It is a\ncollection of useful instructions for a young tradesman. The world is\ngrown so wise of late, or (if you will) fancy themselves so, are so\n_opiniatre_, as the French well express it, so self-wise, that I expect\nsome will tell us beforehand they know every thing already, and want\nnone of my instructions; and to such, indeed, these instructions are not\nwritten.\nHad I not, in a few years' experience, seen many young tradesmen\nmiscarry, for want of those very cautions which are here given, I should\nhave thought this work needless, and I am sure had never gone about to\nwrite it; but as the contrary is manifest, I thought, and think still,\nthe world greatly wanted it.\nAnd be it that those unfortunate creatures that have thus blown\nthemselves up in trade, have miscarried for want of knowing, or for want\nof practising, what is here offered for their direction, whether for\nwant of wit, or by too much wit, the thing is the same, and the\ndirection is equally needful to both.\nAn old experienced pilot sometimes loses a ship by his assurance and\nover confidence of his knowledge, as effectually as a young pilot does\nby his ignorance and want of experience--this very thing, as I have been\ninformed, was the occasion of the fatal disaster in which Sir Cloudesley\nShovel, and so many hundred brave fellows, lost their lives in a moment\nupon the rocks of Scilly.[1]\nHe that is above informing himself when he is in danger, is above pity\nwhen he miscarries--a young tradesman who sets up thus full of himself,\nand scorning advice from those who have gone before him, like a horse\nthat rushes into the battle, is only fearless of danger because he does\nnot understand it.\nIf there is not something extraordinary in the temper and genius of the\ntradesmen of this age, if there is not something very singular in their\ncustoms and methods, their conduct and behaviour in business; also, if\nthere is not something different and more dangerous and fatal in the\ncommon road of trading, and tradesmen's management now, than ever was\nbefore, what is the reason that there are so many bankrupts and broken\ntradesmen now among us, more than ever were known before? I make no\ndoubt but there is as much trade now, and as much gotten by trading, as\nthere ever was in this nation, at least in our memory; and if we will\nallow other people to judge, they will tell us there is much more trade,\nand trade is much more gainful; what, then, must be the reason that the\ntradesmen cannot live on their trades, cannot keep open their shops,\ncannot maintain themselves and families, as well now as they could\nbefore? Something extraordinary must be the case.\nThere must be some failure in the tradesman--it can be nowhere\nelse--either he is less sober and less frugal, less cautious of what he\ndoes, whom he trusts, how he lives, and how he behaves, than tradesmen\nused to be, or he is less industrious, less diligent, and takes less\ncare and pains in his business, or something is the matter; it cannot be\nbut if he had the same gain, and but the same expense which the former\nages suffered tradesmen to thrive with, he would certainly thrive as\nthey did. There must be something out of order in the foundation; he\nmust fail in the essential part, or he would not fail in his trade. The\nsame causes would have the same effects in all ages; the same gain, and\nbut the same expense, would just leave him in the same place as it would\nhave left his predecessor in the same shop; and yet we see one grow\nrich, and the other starve, under the very same circumstances.\nThe temper of the times explains the case to every body that pleases but\nto look into it. The expenses of a family are quite different now from\nwhat they have been. Tradesmen cannot live as tradesmen in the same\nclass used to live; custom, and the manner of all the tradesmen round\nthem, command a difference; and he that will not do as others do, is\nesteemed as nobody among them, and the tradesman is doomed to ruin by\nthe fate of the times.\nIn short, there is a fate upon a tradesman; either he must yield to the\nsnare of the times, or be the jest of the times; the young tradesman\ncannot resist it; he must live as others do, or lose the credit of\nliving, and be run down as if he were bankrupt. In a word, he must spend\nmore than he can afford to spend, and so be undone; or not spend it, and\nso be undone.\nIf he lives as others do, he breaks, because he spends more than he\ngets; if he does not, he breaks too, because he loses his credit, and\nthat is to lose his trade. What must he do?[2]\nThe following directions are calculated for this exigency, and to\nprepare the young tradesman to stem the attacks of those fatal customs,\nwhich otherwise, if he yields to them, will inevitably send him the way\nof all the thoughtless tradesmen that have gone before him.\nHere he will be effectually, we hope, encouraged to set out well; to\nbegin wisely and prudently; and to avoid all those rocks which the gay\nrace of tradesmen so frequently suffer shipwreck upon. And here he will\nhave a true plan of his own prosperity drawn out for him, by which, if\nit be not his own fault, he may square his conduct in an unerring\nmanner, and fear neither bad fortune nor bad friends. I had purposed to\ngive a great many other cautions and directions in this work, but it\nwould have spun it out too far, and have made it tedious. I would indeed\nhave discoursed of some branches of home trade, which necessarily\nembarks the inland tradesman in some parts of foreign business, and so\nmakes a merchant of the shopkeeper almost whether he will or no. For\nexample, almost all the shopkeepers and inland traders in seaport towns,\nor even in the water-side part of London itself, are necessarily brought\nin to be owners of ships, and concerned at least in the vessel, if not\nin the voyage. Some of their trades, perhaps, relate to, or are employed\nin, the building, or fitting, or furnishing out ships, as is the case at\nShoreham, at Ipswich, Yarmouth, Hull, Whitby, Newcastle, and the like.\nOthers are concerned in the cargoes, as in the herring fishery at\nYarmouth and the adjacent ports, the colliery at Newcastle, Sunderland,\n&c., and the like in many other cases.\nIn this case, the shopkeeper is sometimes a merchant adventurer, whether\nhe will or not, and some of his business runs into sea-adventures, as in\nthe salt trade at Sheffield, in Northumberland, and Durham, and again at\nLimington; and again in the coal trade, from Whitehaven in Cumberland to\nIreland, and the like.\nThese considerations urged me to direct due cautions to such tradesmen,\nand such as would be particular to them, especially not to launch out in\nadventures beyond the compass of their stocks,[3] and withal to manage\nthose things with due wariness. But this work had not room for those\nthings; and as that sort of amphibious tradesmen, for such they are,\ntrading both by water and by land, are not of the kind with those\nparticularly aimed at in these sheets, I thought it was better to leave\nthem quite out than to touch but lightly upon them.\nI had also designed one chapter or letter to my inland tradesmen, upon\nthe most important subject of borrowing money upon interest, which is\none of the most dangerous things a tradesman is exposed to. It is a\npleasant thing to a tradesman to see his credit rise, and men offer him\nmoney to trade with, upon so slender a consideration as five per cent.\ninterest, when he gets ten per cent. perhaps twice in the year; but it\nis a snare of the most dangerous kind in the event, and has been the\nruin of so many tradesmen, that, though I had not room for it in the\nwork, I could not let it pass without this notice in the preface.\n1. Interest-money eats deep into the tradesman's profits, because it is\na payment certain, whether the tradesman gets or loses, and as he may\noften get double, so sometimes he loses, and then his interest is a\ndouble payment; it is a partner with him under this unhappy\ncircumstance, namely, that it goes halves when he gains, but not when he\nloses.\n2. The lender calls for his money when he pleases, and often comes for\nit when the borrower can ill spare it; and then, having launched out in\ntrade on the supposition of so much in stock, he is left to struggle\nwith the enlarged trade with a contracted stock, and thus he sinks under\nthe weight of it, cannot repay the money, is dishonoured, prosecuted,\nand at last undone, by the very loan which he took in to help him.\nInterest of money is a dead weight upon the tradesman, and as the\ninterest always keeps him low, the principal sinks him quite down, when\nthat comes to be paid out again. Payment of interest, to a tradesman, is\nlike Cicero bleeding to death in a warm bath;[4] the pleasing warmth of\nthe bath makes him die in a kind of dream, and not feel himself decay,\ntill at last he is exhausted, falls into convulsions, and expires.\nA tradesman held up by money at interest, is sure to sink at last by the\nweight of it, like a man thrown into the sea with a stone tied about his\nneck, who though he could swim if he was loose, drowns in spite of all\nhis struggle.\nIndeed, this article would require not a letter, but a book by itself;\nand the tragical stories of tradesmen undone by usury are so many, and\nthe variety so great, that they would make a history by themselves. But\nit must suffice to treat it here only in general, and give the tradesmen\na warning of it, as the Trinity-house pilots warn sailors of a sand, by\nhanging a buoy upon it, or as the Eddystone light-house upon a sunk\nrock, which, as the poet says, 'Bids men stand off, and live; come near,\nand die.'\nFor a tradesman to borrow money upon interest, I take to be like a man\ngoing into a house infected with the plague; it is not only likely that\nhe may be infected and die, but next to a miracle if he escapes.\nThis part being thus hinted at, I think I may say of the following\nsheets, that they contain all the directions needful to make the\ntradesman thrive; and if he pleases to listen to them with a temper of\nmind willing to be directed, he must have some uncommon ill luck if he\nmiscarries.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[1] [October 22, 1707.--Admiral Shovel, with the confederate fleet from\nthe Mediterranean, as he was coming home, apprehended himself near the\nrocks of Scilly about noon, and the weather being hazy, he brought to\nand lay by till evening, when he made a signal for sailing. What induced\nhim to be more cautious in the day than in the night is not known; but\nthe fleet had not been long under sail before his own ship, the\n_Association_, with the _Eagle_ and _Romney_, were dashed to pieces upon\nthe rocks called the _Bishop and his Clerks_, and all their men lost;\nthe _Ferdinand_ was also cast away, and but twenty-four of her men\nsaved. Admiral Byng, perceiving the misfortune, altered his course,\nwhereby he preserved himself and the rest of the fleet which sailed\nafter him.--_Salmon's Chronological Historian_. London, 1723.]\n[2] [There is much reason for receiving all such complaints as the above\nwith caution. The extravagance of the present, in contrast with the\nfrugality of a past age, has always been a favourite topic of\ndeclamation, and appears to have no other foundation than whim. Indeed,\nit is next to impossible that any great body of men could exist in the\ncircumstances described in the text.]\n[3] [Stock is in this book invariably used for what we express by the\nterm _capital_.]\n[4] [Cicero is here given by mistake for Seneca, who thus suffered death\nby order of the tyrant Nero.]\nINTRODUCTION\nBeing to direct this discourse to the tradesmen of this nation, it is\nneedful, in order to make the substance of this work and the subject of\nit agree together, that I should in a few words explain the terms, and\ntell the reader who it is we understand by the word tradesman, and how\nhe is to be qualified in order to merit the title of _complete_.\nThis is necessary, because the said term tradesman is understood by\nseveral people, and in several places, in a different manner: for\nexample, in the north of Britain, and likewise in Ireland, when you say\na tradesman, you are understood to mean a mechanic, such as a smith, a\ncarpenter, a shoemaker, and the like, such as here we call a\nhandicraftsman. In like manner, abroad they call a tradesman such only\nas carry goods about from town to town, and from market to market, or\nfrom house to house, to sell; these in England we call petty chapmen, in\nthe north pethers, and in our ordinary speech pedlars.\nBut in England, and especially in London, and the south parts of\nBritain, we take it in another sense, and in general, all sorts of\nwarehouse-keepers, shopkeepers, whether wholesale dealers or retailers\nof goods, are called tradesmen, or, to explain it by another word,\ntrading men: such are, whether wholesale or retail, our grocers,\nmercers, linen and woollen drapers, Blackwell-hall factors,\ntobacconists, haberdashers, whether of hats or small wares, glovers,\nhosiers, milliners, booksellers, stationers, and all other shopkeepers,\nwho do not actually work upon, make, or manufacture, the goods they\nsell.\nOn the other hand, those who make the goods they sell, though they do\nkeep shops to sell them, are not called tradesmen, but handicrafts, such\nas smiths, shoemakers, founders, joiners, carpenters, carvers, turners,\nand the like; others, who only make, or cause to be made, goods for\nother people to sell, are called manufacturers and artists, &c. Thus\ndistinguished, I shall speak of them all as occasion requires, taking\nthis general explication to be sufficient; and I thus mention it to\nprevent being obliged to frequent and further particular descriptions as\nI go on.\nAs there are several degrees of people employed in trade below these,\nsuch as workmen, labourers, and servants, so there is a degree of\ntraders above them, which we call merchants; where it is needful to\nobserve, that in other countries, and even in the north of Britain and\nIreland, as the handicraftsmen and artists are called tradesmen, so the\nshopkeepers whom we here call tradesmen, are all called merchants; nay,\neven the very pedlars are called travelling merchants.[5] But in England\nthe word merchant is understood of none but such as carry on foreign\ncorrespondences, importing the goods and growth of other countries, and\nexporting the growth and manufacture of England to other countries; or,\nto use a vulgar expression, because I am speaking to and of those who\nuse that expression, such as trade beyond sea. These in England, and\nthese only, are called merchants, by way of honourable distinction;\nthese I am not concerned with in this work, nor is any part of it\ndirected to them.\nAs the tradesmen are thus distinguished, and their several occupations\ndivided into proper classes, so are the trades. The general commerce of\nEngland, as it is the most considerable of any nation in the world, so\nthat part of it which we call the home or inland trade, is equal, if not\nsuperior, to that of any other nation, though some of those nations are\ninfinitely greater than England, and more populous also, as France and\nGermany in particular.\nI insist that the trade of England is greater and more considerable than\nthat of any other nation, for these reasons: 1. Because England produces\nmore goods as well for home consumption as for foreign exportation, and\nthose goods all made of its own produce or manufactured by its own\ninhabitants, than any other nation in the world. 2. Because England\nconsumes within itself more goods of foreign growth, imported from the\nseveral countries where they are produced or wrought, than any other\nnation in the world. And--3. Because for the doing this England employs\nmore shipping and more seamen than any other nation, and, some think,\nthan all the other nations, of Europe.\nHence, besides the great number of wealthy merchants who carry on this\ngreat foreign _negoce_ [_negotium_ (Latin) business], and who, by their\ncorresponding with all parts of the world, import the growth of all\ncountries hither--I say, besides these, we have a very great number of\nconsiderable dealers, whom we call tradesmen, who are properly called\nwarehouse-keepers, who supply the merchants with all the several kinds\nof manufactures, and other goods of the produce of England, for\nexportation; and also others who are called wholesalemen, who buy and\ntake off from the merchants all the foreign goods which they import;\nthese, by their corresponding with a like sort of tradesmen in the\ncountry, convey and hand forward those goods, and our own also, among\nthose country tradesmen, into every corner of the kingdom, however\nremote, and by them to the retailers, and by the retailer to the last\nconsumer, which is the last article of all trade. These are the\ntradesmen understood in this work, and for whose service these sheets\nare made public.\nHaving thus described the person whom I understand by the English\ntradesman, it is then needful to inquire into his qualifications, and\nwhat it is that renders him a finished or complete man in his business.\n1. That he has a general knowledge of not his own particular trade and\nbusiness only--that part, indeed, well denominates a handicraftsman to\nbe a complete artist; but our complete tradesman ought to understand all\nthe inland trade of England, so as to be able to turn his hand to any\nthing, or deal in any thing or every thing of the growth and product of\nhis own country, or the manufacture of the people, as his circumstances\nin trade or other occasions may require; and may, if he sees occasion,\nlay down one trade and take up another when he pleases, without serving\na new apprenticeship to learn it.\n2. That he not only has a knowledge of the species or kinds of goods,\nbut of the places and peculiar countries where those goods, whether\nproduct or manufacture, are to be found; that is to say, where produced\nor where made, and how to come at them or deal in them, at the first\nhand, and to his best advantage.\n3. That he understands perfectly well all the methods of\ncorrespondence, returning money or goods for goods, to and from every\ncounty in England; in what manner to be done, and in what manner most to\nadvantage; what goods are generally bought by barter and exchange, and\nwhat by payment of money; what for present money, and what for time;\nwhat are sold by commission from the makers, what bought by factors, and\nby giving commission to buyers in the country, and what bought by orders\nto the maker, and the like; what markets are the most proper to buy\nevery thing at, and where and when; and what fairs are proper to go to\nin order to buy or sell, or meet the country dealer at, such as\nSturbridge, Bristol, Chester, Exeter; or what marts, such as Beverly,\nLynn, Boston, Gainsborough, and the like.\nIn order to complete the English tradesman in this manner, the first\nthing to be done is lay down such general maxims of trade as are fit for\nhis instruction, and then to describe the English or British product,\nbeing the fund of its inland trade, whether we mean its produce as the\ngrowth of the country, or its manufactures, as the labour of her people;\nthen to acquaint the tradesman with the manner of the circulation where\nthose things are found, how and by what methods all those goods are\nbrought to London, and from London again conveyed into the country;\nwhere they are principally bought at best hand, and most to the\nadvantage of the buyer, and where the proper markets are to dispose of\nthem again when bought.\nThese are the degrees by which the complete tradesman is brought up, and\nby which he is instructed in the principles and methods of his commerce,\nby which he is made acquainted with business, and is capable of carrying\nit on with success, after which there is not a man in the universe\ndeserves the title of a complete tradesman, like the English shopkeeper.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[5] [This misuse of the term _merchant_ continues to exist in Scotland\nto the present day.]\nCHAPTER I\nTHE TRADESMAN IN HIS PREPARATIONS WHILE AN APPRENTICE\nThe first part of a trader's beginning is ordinarily when he is very\nyoung, I mean, when he goes as an apprentice, and the notions of trade\nare scarcely got into his head; for boys go apprentices while they are\nbut boys; to talk to them in their first three or four years signifies\nnothing; they are rather then to be taught submission to families, and\nsubjection to their masters, and dutiful attendance in their shops or\nwarehouses; and this is not our present business.\nBut after they have entered the fifth or sixth year, they may then be\nentertained with discourses of another nature; and as they begin then to\nlook forward beyond the time of their servitude, and think of setting up\nand being for themselves, I think then is the time to put them upon\nuseful preparations for the work, and to instruct them in such things as\nmay qualify them best to enter upon the world, and act for themselves\nwhen they are so entered.\nThe first thing a youth in the latter part of his time is to do, is to\nendeavour to gain a good judgment in the wares of all kinds that he is\nlikely to deal in--as, for example, if a draper, the quality of cloths;\nif a stationer, the quality of papers; if a grocer, the quality of\nsugars, teas, &c.; and so on with all other trades. During the first\nyears of a young man's time, he of course learns to weigh and measure\neither liquids or solids, to pack up and make bales, trusses, packages,\n&c., and to do the coarser and laborious part of business; but all that\ngives him little knowledge in the species and quality of the goods, much\nless a nice judgment in their value and sorts, which however is one of\nthe principal things that belong to trade.\nIt is supposed that, by this time, if his master is a man of\nconsiderable business, his man is become the eldest apprentice, and is\ntaken from the counter, and from sweeping the warehouse, into the\ncounting-house, where he, among other things, sees the bills of parcels\nof goods bought, and thereby knows what every thing costs at first hand,\nwhat gain is made of them, and if a miscarriage happens, he knows what\nloss too; by which he is led of course to look into the goodness of the\ngoods, and see the reason of things: if the goods are not to\nexpectation, and consequently do not answer the price, he sees the\nreason of that loss, and he looks into the goods, and sees where and how\nfar they are deficient, and in what; this, if he be careful to make his\nobservations, brings him naturally to have a good judgment in the goods.\nIf a young man neglects this part, and passes over the season for such\nimprovement, he very rarely ever recovers it; for this part has its\nseason, and that more remarkable than in many other cases, and that\nseason lost, never comes again; a judgment in goods taken in early, is\nnever lost, and a judgment taken in late is seldom good.\nIf the youth slips this occasion, and, not minding what is before him,\ngoes out of his time without obtaining such a skill as this in the goods\nhe is to deal in, he enters into trade without his most useful tools,\nand must use spectacles before his time.\nFor want of this knowledge of the goods, he is at a loss in the buying\npart, and is liable to be cheated and imposed upon in the most notorious\nmanner by the sharp-sighted world, for his want of judgment is a thing\nthat cannot be hid; the merchants or manufacturers of whom he buys,\npresently discover him; the very boys in the wholesalemen's warehouses,\nand in merchant's warehouses, will play upon him, sell him one thing for\nanother, show him a worse sort when he calls for a better, and, asking a\nhigher price for it, persuade him it is better; and when they have thus\nbubbled him, they triumph over his ignorance when he is gone, and expose\nhim to the last degree.\nBesides, for want of judgment in the goods he is to buy, he often runs a\nhazard of being cheated to a very great degree, and perhaps some time or\nother a tradesman may be ruined by it, or at least ruin his reputation.\nWhen I lived abroad, I had once a commission sent me from a merchant in\nLondon, to buy a large parcel of brandy: the goods were something out of\nmy way, having never bought any in that country before. However, it\nhappened that I had frequently bought and imported brandies in England,\nand had some judgment in them, so much that I ventured to buy without\ntaking a cooper with me, which was not usual in that place. The first\nparcel of brandy I saw was very good, and I bought freely to the value\nof about \u00a3600, and shipped them for England, where they gave very good\nsatisfaction to my employer. But I could not complete my commission to\nmy mind in that parcel. Some days after, some merchants, who had seen me\nbuy the other, and thought me a novice in the business, and that I took\nno cooper to taste the brandy, laid a plot for me, which indeed was such\na plot as I was not in the least aware of; and had not the little\njudgment which I had in the commodity prevented, I had been notoriously\nabused. The case was thus:--They gave me notice by the same person who\nhelped me to the sight of the first brandy, that there was a cellar of\nextraordinary good brandy at such a place, and invited me to see it.\nAccordingly I went in an afternoon, and tasted the brandy, being a large\nparcel, amounting to about \u00a3460.\nI liked the goods very well; but the merchant, as they called him, that\nis to say, the knave appointed to cheat the poor stranger, was cunningly\nout of the way, so that no bargain was to be made that night. But as I\nhad said that I liked the brandy, the same person who brought me an\naccount of them, comes to my lodgings to treat with me about the price.\nWe did not make many words: I bade him the current price which I had\nbought for some days before, and after a few struggles for five crowns\na-tun more, he came to my price, and his next word was to let me know\nthe gage of the cask; and as I had seen the goods already, he thought\nthere was nothing to do but to make a bargain, and order the goods to be\ndelivered.\nBut young as I was, I was too old for that too; and told him, I could\nnot tell positively how many I should take, but that I would come in the\nafternoon, and taste them again, and mark out what I wanted. He seemed\nuneasy at that, and pretended he had two merchants waiting to see them,\nand he could sell them immediately, and I might do him a prejudice if I\nmade him wait and put them off, who perhaps might buy in the mean time.\nI answered him coldly, I would not hinder him selling them by any means\nif he could have a better chapman, that I could not come sooner, and\nthat I would not be obliged to take the whole parcel, nor would I buy\nany of them without tasting them again: he argued much to have me buy\nthem, seeing, as he said, I had tasted them before, and liked them very\nwell.\n'I did so,' said I, 'but I love to have my palate confirm one day what\nit approved the day before.' 'Perhaps,' says he, 'you would have some\nother person's judgment of them, and you are welcome to do so, sir, with\nall my heart; send any body you please:' but still he urged for a\nbargain, when the person sent should make his report; and then he had\nhis agents ready, I understood afterwards, to manage the persons I\nshould send.\nI answered him frankly, I had no great judgment, but that, such as it\nwas, I ventured to trust to it; I thought I had honest men to deal with,\nand that I should bring nobody to taste them for me but myself.\nThis pleased him, and was what he secretly wished; and now, instead of\ndesiring me to come immediately, he told me, that seeing I would not buy\nwithout seeing the goods again, and would not go just then, he could not\nbe in the way in the afternoon, and so desired I would defer it till\nnext morning, which I readily agreed to.\nIn the morning I went, but not so soon as I had appointed; upon which,\nwhen I came, he seemed offended, and said I had hindered him--that he\ncould have sold the whole parcel, &c. I told him I could not have\nhindered him, for that I had told him he should not wait for me, but\nsell them to the first good customer he found. He told me he had indeed\nsold two or three casks, but he would not disoblige me so much as to\nsell the whole parcel before I came. This I mention, because he made it\na kind of a bite upon me, that I should not be alarmed at seeing the\ncasks displaced in the cellar.\nWhen I came to taste the brandy, I began to be surprised. I saw the very\nsame casks which I had touched with the marking-iron when I was there\nbefore, but I did not like the brandy by any means, but did not yet\nsuspect the least foul play.\nI went round the whole cellar, and I could not mark above three casks\nwhich I durst venture to buy; the rest apparently showed themselves to\nbe mixed, at least I thought so. I marked out the three casks, and told\nhim my palate had deceived me, that the rest of the brandy was not for\nmy turn.\nI saw the man surprised, and turn pale, and at first seemed to be very\nangry, that I should, as he called it, disparage the goods--that sure I\ndid not understand brandy, and the like--and that I should have brought\nsomebody with me that did understand it. I answered coldly, that if I\nventured my money upon my own judgment, the hazard was not to the\nseller, but to the buyer, and nobody had to do with that; if I did not\nlike his goods, another, whose judgment was better, might like them, and\nso there was no harm done: in a word, he would not let me have the three\ncasks I had marked, unless I took more, and I would take no more--so we\nparted, but with no satisfaction on his side; and I afterwards came to\nhear that he had sat up all the night with his coopers, mixing spirits\nin every cask, whence he drew off a quantity of the right brandy, and\ncorrupted it, concluding, that as I had no judgment to choose by but my\nown, I could not discover it; and it came out by his quarrelling with\nthe person who brought me to him, for telling him I did not understand\nthe goods, upon which presumption he ventured to spoil the whole parcel.\nI give you this story as a just caution to a young tradesman, and to\nshow how necessary it is that a tradesman should have judgment in the\ngoods he buys, and how easily he may be imposed upon and abused, if he\noffers to buy upon his own judgment, when really it is defective. I\ncould enlarge this article with many like examples, but I think this may\nsuffice.\nThe next thing I recommend to an apprentice at the conclusion of his\ntime, is to acquaint himself with his master's chapmen;[6] I mean of\nboth kinds, as well those he sells to, as those he buys of, and, if he\nis a factor, with his master's employers. But what I aim at now is the\nchapmen and customers whom his master chiefly sells to. I need not\nexplain myself not to mean by this the chance customers of a retailer's\nshop, for there can be no acquaintance, or very little, made with them;\nI mean the country shopkeepers, or others, who buy in parcels, and who\nbuy to sell again, or export as merchants. If the young man comes from\nhis master, and has formed no acquaintance or interest among the\ncustomers whom his master dealt with, he has, in short, slipt or lost\none of the principal ends and reasons of his being an apprentice, in\nwhich he has spent seven years, and perhaps his friends given a\nconsiderable sum of money.\nFor a young man coming out of his time to have his shop or warehouse\nstocked with goods, and his customers all to seek, will make his\nbeginning infinitely more difficult to him than it would otherwise be;\nand he not only has new customers to seek, but has their characters to\nseek also, and knows not who is good and who not, till he buys that\nknowledge by his experience, and perhaps sometimes pays too dear for it.\nIt was an odd circumstance of a tradesman in this city a few years ago,\nwho, being out of his time, and going to solicit one of his master's\ncustomers to trade with him, the chapman did not so much as know him, or\nremember that he had ever heard his name, except as he had heard his\nmaster call his apprentice Jacob. I know some masters diligently watch\nto prevent their apprentices speaking to their customers, and to keep\nthem from acquainting themselves with the buyers, that when they come\nout of their times they may not carry the trade away with them.\nTo hinder an apprentice from an acquaintance with the dealers of both\nsorts, is somewhat like Laban's usage of Jacob, namely, keeping back the\nbeloved Rachel, whom he served his seven years' time for, and putting\nhim off with a blear-eyed Leah in her stead; it is, indeed, a kind of\nrobbing him, taking from him the advantage which he served his time for,\nand sending him into the world like a man out of a ship set on shore\namong savages, who, instead of feeding him, are indeed more ready to eat\nhim up and devour him.[7]\nAn apprentice who has served out his time faithfully and diligently,\nought to claim it as a debt to his indentures, that his master should\nlet him into an open acquaintance with his customers; he does not else\nperform his promise to teach him the art and mystery of his trade; he\ndoes not make him master of his business, or enable him as he ought to\nset up in the world; for, as buying is indeed the first, so selling is\nthe last end of trade, and the faithful apprentice ought to be fully\nmade acquainted with them both.\nNext to being acquainted with his master's customers and chapmen, the\napprentice, when his time is near expiring, ought to acquaint himself\nwith the books, that is to say, to see and learn his master's method of\nbook-keeping, that he may follow it, if the method is good, and may\nlearn a better method in time, if it is not.\nThe tradesman should not be at a loss how to keep his books, when he is\nto begin his trade; that would be to put him to school when he is just\ncome from school; his apprenticeship is, and ought in justice to be, a\nschool to him, where he ought to learn every thing that should qualify\nhim for his business, at least every thing that his master can teach\nhim; and if he finds his master either backward or unwilling to teach\nhim, he should complain in time to his own friends, that they may some\nhow or other supply the defect.\nA tradesman's books are his repeating clock, which upon all occasions\nare to tell him how he goes on, and how things stand with him in the\nworld: there he will know when it is time to go on, or when it is time\nto give over; and upon his regular keeping, and fully acquainting\nhimself with his books, depends at least the comfort of his trade, if\nnot the very trade itself. If they are not duly posted, and if every\nthing is not carefully entered in them, the debtor's accounts kept even,\nthe cash constantly balanced, and the credits all stated, the tradesman\nis like a ship at sea, steered without a helm; he is all in confusion,\nand knows not what he does, or where he is; he may be a rich man, or a\nbankrupt--for, in a word, he can give no account of himself to himself,\nmuch less to any body else.\nHis books being so essential to his trade, he that comes out of his time\nwithout a perfect knowledge of the method of book-keeping, like a bride\nundrest, is not fit to be married; he knows not what to do, or what step\nto take; he may indeed have served his time, but he has not learned his\ntrade, nor is he fit to set up; and be the fault in himself for not\nlearning, or in his master for not teaching him, he ought not to set up\ntill he has gotten some skilful person to put him in a way to do it, and\nmake him fully to understand it.\nIt is true, there is not a great deal of difficulty in keeping a\ntradesman's books, especially if he be a retailer only; but yet, even in\nthe meanest trades, they ought to know how to keep books. But the advice\nis directed to those who are above the retailer, as well as to them; if\nthe book-keeping be small, it is the sooner learned, and the apprentice\nis the more to blame if he neglects it. Besides, the objection is much\nmore trifling than the advice. The tradesman cannot carry on any\nconsiderable trade without books; and he must, during his\napprenticeship, prepare himself for business by acquainting himself with\nevery thing needful for his going on with his trade, among which that of\nbook-keeping is absolutely necessary.\nThe last article, and in itself essential to a young tradesman, is to\nknow how to buy; if his master is kind and generous, he will consider\nthe justice of this part, and let him into the secret of it of his own\nfree will, and that before his time is fully expired; but if that should\nnot happen, as often it does not, let the apprentice know, that it is\none of the most needful things to him that can belong to his\napprenticeship, and that he ought not to let his time run over his head,\nwithout getting as much insight into it as possible; that therefore he\nought to lose no opportunity to get into it, even whether his master\napproves of it or no; for as it is a debt due to him from his master to\ninstruct him in it, it is highly just he should use all proper means to\ncome at it.\nIndeed, the affair in this age between masters and their apprentices,\nstands in a different view from what the same thing was a few years\npast; the state of our apprenticeship is not a state of servitude now,\nand hardly of subjection, and their behaviour is accordingly more like\ngentlemen than tradesmen; more like companions to their masters, than\nlike servants. On the other hand, the masters seem to have made over\ntheir authority to their apprentices for a sum of money, the money taken\nnow with apprentices being most exorbitantly great, compared to what it\nwas in former times.\nNow, though this does not at all exempt the servant or apprentice from\ntaking care of himself, and to qualify himself for business while he is\nan apprentice, yet it is evident that it is no furtherance to\napprentices; the liberties they take towards the conclusion of their\ntime, are so much employed to worse purposes, that apprentices do not\ncome out of their times better finished for business and trade than they\ndid formerly, but much the worse: and though it is not the proper\nbusiness and design of this work to enlarge on the injustice done both\nto master and servant by this change of custom, yet to bring it to my\npresent purpose, it carries this force with it, namely, that the advice\nto apprentices to endeavour to finish themselves for business during the\ntime of the indenture, is so much the more needful and seasonable.\nNor is this advice for the service of the master, but of the apprentice;\nfor if the apprentice neglects this advice, if he omits to qualify\nhimself for business as above, if he neither will acquaint himself with\nthe customers, nor the books, nor with the buying part, nor gain\njudgment in the wares he is to deal in, the loss is his own, not his\nmaster's--and, indeed, he may be said to have served not himself, but\nhis master--and both his money and his seven years are all thrown away.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[6] [Individuals dealt with.]\n[7] [It would be hard to doubt that Defore was sincere in this pleading\nof the rights of the apprentice; but its morality is certainly far from\nclear. The master may have gained customers with difficulty, by the\nexercise of much ingenuity, patience, and industry, or through some\npeculiar merit of his own. Indeed, it is always to be presumed that a\ntradesman's customers are attached to him from some of these causes. Of\ncourse, it would be hard if his apprentices, instead of collecting\ncustomers for themselves by the same means, seduced away those of his\nmaster. The true and direct object of an apprenticeship is to acquire a\ntrade, not to acquire customers.]\nCHAPTER II\nTHE TRADESMAN'S WRITING LETTERS\nAs plainness, and a free unconstrained way of speaking, is the beauty\nand excellence of speech, so an easy free concise way of writing is the\nbest style for a tradesman. He that affects a rumbling and bombast\nstyle, and fills his letters with long harangues, compliments, and\nflourishes, should turn poet instead of tradesman, and set up for a wit,\nnot a shopkeeper. Hark how such a young tradesman writes, out of the\ncountry, to his wholesale-man in London, upon his first setting up.\n'SIR--The destinies having so appointed it, and my dark stars\nconcurring, that I, who by nature was framed for better things, should\nbe put out to a trade, and the gods having been so propitious to me in\nthe time of my servitude, that at length the days are expired, and I am\nlaunched forth into the great ocean of business, I thought fit to\nacquaint you, that last month I received my fortune, which, by my\nfather's will, had been my due two years past, at which time I arrived\nto man's estate, and became major, whereupon I have taken a house in one\nof the principal streets of the town of----, where I am entered upon my\nbusiness, and hereby let you know that I shall have occasion for the\ngoods hereafter mentioned, which you may send to me by the carrier.'\nThis fine flourish, and which, no doubt, the young fellow dressed up\nwith much application, and thought was very well done, put his\ncorrespondent in London into a fit of laughter, and instead of sending\nhim the goods he wrote for, put him either first upon writing down into\nthe country to inquire after his character, and whether he was worth\ndealing with, or else it obtained to be filed up among such letters as\ndeserved no answer.\nThe same tradesman in London received by the post another letter, from a\nyoung shopkeeper in the country, to the purpose following:--\n'Being obliged, Sir, by my late master's decease, to enter immediately\nupon his business, and consequently open my shop without coming up to\nLondon to furnish myself with such goods as at present I want, I have\nhere sent you a small order, as underwritten. I hope you will think\nyourself obliged to use me well, and particularly that the goods may be\ngood of the sorts, though I cannot be at London to look them out myself.\nI have enclosed a bill of exchange for \u00a375, on Messrs A.B. and Company,\npayable to you, or your order, at one-and-twenty days' sight; be pleased\nto get it accepted, and if the goods amount to more than that sum, I\nshall, when I have your bill of parcels, send you the remainder. I\nrepeat my desire, that you will send me the goods well sorted, and well\nchosen, and as cheap as possible, that I may be encouraged to a further\ncorrespondence. I am, your humble servant,\nC.K.'\nThis was writing like a man that understood what he was doing; and his\ncorrespondent in London would presently say--'This young man writes like\na man of business; pray let us take care to use him well, for in all\nprobability he will be a very good chapman.'\nThe sum of the matter is this: a tradesman's letters should be plain,\nconcise, and to the purpose; no quaint expressions, no book-phrases, no\nflourishes, and yet they must be full and sufficient to express what he\nmeans, so as not to be doubtful, much less unintelligible. I can by no\nmeans approve of studied abbreviations, and leaving out the needful\ncopulatives of speech in trading letters; they are to an extreme\naffected; no beauty to the style, but, on the contrary, a deformity of\nthe grossest nature. They are affected to the last degree, and with this\naggravation, that it is an affectation of the grossest nature; for, in a\nword, it is affecting to be thought a man of more than ordinary sense by\nwriting extraordinary nonsense; and affecting to be a man of business,\nby giving orders and expressing your meaning in terms which a man of\nbusiness may not think himself bound by. For example, a tradesman at\nHull writes to his correspondent at London the following letter:--\n'SIR, yours received, have at present little to reply. Last post you had\nbills of loading, with invoice of what had loaden for your account in\nHamburgh factor bound for said port. What have farther orders for, shall\nbe dispatched with expedition. Markets slacken much on this side; cannot\nsell the iron for more than 37s. Wish had your orders if shall part with\nit at that rate. No ships since the 11th. London fleet may be in the\nroads before the late storm, so hope they are safe: if have not insured,\nplease omit the same till hear farther; the weather proving good, hope\nthe danger is over.\nMy last transmitted three bills exchange, import \u00a3315; please signify if\nare come to hand, and accepted, and give credit in account current to\nyour humble servant.'\nI pretend to say there is nothing in all this letter, though appearing\nto have the face of a considerable dealer, but what may be taken any\nway, _pro_ or _con_. The Hamburgh factor may be a ship, or a horse--be\nbound to Hamburgh or London. What shall be dispatched may be one thing,\nor any thing, or every thing, in a former letter. No ships since the\n11th, may be no ships come in, or no ships gone out. The London fleet\nbeing in the roads, it may be the London fleet from Hull to London, or\nfrom London to Hull, both being often at sea together. The roads may be\nYarmouth roads, or Grimsby, or, indeed, any where.\nBy such a way of writing, no orders can be binding to him that gives\nthem, or to him they are given to. A merchant writes to his factor at\nLisbon:--\n'Please to send, per first ship, 150 chests best Seville, and 200 pipes\nbest Lisbon white. May value yourself per exchange \u00a31250 sterling, for\nthe account of above orders. Suppose you can send the sloop to Seville\nfor the ordered chests, &c. I am.'\nHere is the order to send a cargo, with a _please to send_; so the\nfactor may let it alone if he does not please.[8] The order is 150\nchests Seville; it is supposed he means oranges, but it may be 150\nchests orange-trees as well, or chests of oil, or any thing. Lisbon\nwhite, may be wine or any thing else, though it is supposed to be wine.\nHe may draw \u00a31250, but he may refuse to accept it if he pleases, for any\nthing such an order as that obliges him.\nOn the contrary, orders ought to be plain and explicit; and he ought to\nhave assured him, that on his drawing on him, his bills should be\nhonoured--that is, accepted and paid.\nI know this affectation of style is accounted very grand, looks modish,\nand has a kind of majestic greatness in it; but the best merchants in\nthe world are come off from it, and now choose to write plain and\nintelligibly: much less should country tradesmen, citizens, and\nshopkeepers, whose business is plainness and mere trade, make use of it.\nI have mentioned this in the beginning of this work, because, indeed, it\nis the beginning of a tradesman's business. When a tradesman takes an\napprentice, the first thing he does for him, after he takes him from\nbehind his counter, after he lets him into his counting-house and his\nbooks, and after trusting him with his more private business--I say, the\nfirst thing is to let him write letters to his dealers, and correspond\nwith his friends; and this he does in his master's name, subscribing his\nletters thus:--\n     I am, for my master, A.B. and Company, your\n     humble servant, C.D.\nAnd beginning thus:--Sir,\n     I am ordered by my master A.B. to advise you that--\nOr thus:--\n     Sir, By my master's order, I am to signify to you that\nOrders for goods ought to be very explicit and particular, that the\ndealer may not mistake, especially if it be orders from a tradesman to a\nmanufacturer to make goods, or to buy goods, either of such a quality,\nor to such a pattern; in which, if the goods are made to the colours,\nand of a marketable goodness, and within the time limited, the person\nordering them cannot refuse to receive them, and make himself debtor to\nthe maker. On the contrary, if the goods are not of a marketable\ngoodness, or not to the patterns, or are not sent within the time, the\nmaker ought not to expect they should be received. For example--\nThe tradesman, or warehouseman, or what else we may call him, writes to\nhis correspondent at Devizes, in Wiltshire, thus:--\n'Sir--The goods you sent me last week are not at all for my purpose,\nbeing of a sort which I am at present full of: however, if you are\nwilling they should lie here, I will take all opportunities to sell them\nfor your account; otherwise, on your first orders, they shall be\ndelivered to whoever you shall direct: and as you had no orders from me\nfor such sorts of goods, you cannot take this ill. But I have here\nenclosed sent you five patterns as under, marked 1 to 5; if you think\nfit to make me fifty pieces of druggets of the same weight and goodness\nwith the fifty pieces, No. A.B., which I had from you last October, and\nmixed as exactly as you can to the enclosed patterns, ten to each\npattern, and can have the same to be delivered here any time in February\nnext, I shall take them at the same price which I gave you for the last;\nand one month after the delivery you may draw upon me for the money,\nwhich shall be paid to your content. Your friend and servant.\nP.S. Let me have your return per next post, intimating that you can or\ncannot answer this order, that I may govern myself accordingly. _To Mr\nH.G., clothier, Devizes_.'\nThe clothier, accordingly, gives him an answer the next post, as\nfollows:--\n'Sir--I have the favour of yours of the 22d past, with your order for\nfifty fine druggets, to be made of the like weight and goodness with the\ntwo packs, No. A.B., which I made for you and sent last October, as also\nthe five patterns enclosed, marked 1 to 5, for my direction in the\nmixture. I give you this trouble, according to your order, to let you\nknow I have already put the said fifty pieces in hand; and as I am\nalways willing to serve you to the best of my power, and am thankful for\nyour favours, you may depend upon them within the time, that is to say,\nsome time in February next, and that they shall be of the like fineness\nand substance with the other, and as near to the patterns as possible.\nBut in regard our poor are very craving, and money at this time very\nscarce, I beg you will give me leave (twenty or thirty pieces of them\nbeing finished and delivered to you at any time before the remainder),\nto draw fifty pounds on you for present occasion; for which I shall\nthink myself greatly obliged, and shall give you any security you please\nthat the rest shall follow within the time.\nAs to the pack of goods in your hands, which were sent up without your\norder, I am content they remain in your hands for sale on my account,\nand desire you will sell them as soon as you can, for my best advantage.\nI am,' &c.\nHere is a harmony of business, and every thing exact; the order is given\nplain and express; the clothier answers directly to every point; here\ncan be no defect in the correspondence; the diligent clothier applies\nimmediately to the work, sorts and dyes his wool, mixes his colours to\nthe patterns, puts the wool to the spinners, sends his yarn to the\nweavers, has the pieces brought home, then has them to the thicking or\nfulling-mill, dresses them in his own workhouse, and sends them up\npunctually by the time; perhaps by the middle of the month. Having sent\nup twenty pieces five weeks before, the warehouse-keeper, to oblige him,\npays his bill of \u00a350, and a month after the rest are sent in, he draws\nfor the rest of the money, and his bills are punctually paid. The\nconsequence of this exact writing and answering is this--\nThe warehouse-keeper having the order from his merchant, is furnished in\ntime, and obliges his customer; then says he to his servant, 'Well, this\nH.G. of Devizes is a clever workman, understands his business, and may\nbe depended on: I see if I have an order to give that requires any\nexactness and honest usage, he is my man; he understands orders when\nthey are sent, goes to work immediately, and answers them punctually.'\nAgain, the clothier at Devizes says to his head man, or perhaps his son,\n'This Mr H. is a very good employer, and is worth obliging; his orders\nare so plain and so direct, that a man cannot mistake, and if the goods\nare made honestly and to his time, there's one's money; bills are\ncheerfully accepted, and punctually paid; I'll never disappoint him;\nwhoever goes without goods, he shall not.'\nOn the contrary, when orders are darkly given, they are doubtfully\nobserved; and when the goods come to town, the merchant dislikes them,\nthe warehouseman shuffles them back upon the clothier, to lie for his\naccount, pretending they are not made to his order; the clothier is\ndiscouraged, and for want of his money discredited, and all their\ncorrespondence is confusion, and ends in loss both of money and credit.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[8] [The practice of trade now sanctions courteous expressions of this\nkind.]\nCHAPTER III\nTHE TRADING STYLE\nIn the last chapter I gave my thoughts for the instruction of young\ntradesmen in writing letters with orders, and answering orders, and\nespecially about the proper style of a tradesman's letters, which I\nhinted should be plain and easy, free in language, and direct to the\npurpose intended. Give me leave to go on with the subject a little\nfarther, as I think it is useful in another part of the tradesman's\ncorrespondence.\nI might have made some apology for urging tradesmen to write a plain and\neasy style; let me add, that the tradesmen need not be offended at my\ncondemning them, as it were, to a plain and homely style--easy, plain,\nand familiar language is the beauty of speech in general, and is the\nexcellency of all writing, on whatever subject, or to whatever persons\nthey are we write or speak. The end of speech is that men might\nunderstand one another's meaning; certainly that speech, or that way of\nspeaking, which is most easily understood, is the best way of speaking.\nIf any man were to ask me, which would be supposed to be a perfect\nstyle, or language, I would answer, that in which a man speaking to five\nhundred people, of all common and various capacities, idiots or lunatics\nexcepted, should be understood by them all in the same manner with one\nanother, and in the same sense which the speaker intended to be\nunderstood--this would certainly be a most perfect style.\nAll exotic sayings, dark and ambiguous speakings, affected words, and,\nas I said in the last chapter, abridgement, or words cut off, as they\nare foolish and improper in business, so, indeed, are they in any other\nthings; hard words, and affectation of style in business, is like\nbombast in poetry, a kind of rumbling nonsense, and nothing of the kind\ncan be more ridiculous.\nThe nicety of writing in business consists chiefly in giving every\nspecies of goods their trading names, for there are certain\npeculiarities in the trading language, which are to be observed as the\ngreatest proprieties, and without which the language your letters are\nwritten in would be obscure, and the tradesmen you write to would not\nunderstand you--for example, if you write to your factor at Lisbon, or\nat Cadiz, to make you returns in hardware, he understands you, and\nsends you so many bags of pieces of eight. So, if a merchant comes to me\nto hire a small ship of me, and tells me it is for the pipin trade, or\nto buy a vessel, and tells me he intends to make a pipiner of her, the\nmeaning is, that she is to run to Seville for oranges, or to Malaga for\nlemons. If he says he intends to send her for a lading of fruit, the\nmeaning is, she is to go to Alicant, Denia, or Xevia, on the coast of\nSpain, for raisins of the sun, or to Malaga for Malaga raisins. Thus, in\nthe home trade in England: if in Kent a man tells me he is to go among\nthe night-riders, his meaning is, he is to go a-carrying wool to the\nsea-shore--the people that usually run the wool off in boats, are called\nowlers--those that steal customs, smugglers, and the like. In a word,\nthere is a kind of slang in trade, which a tradesman ought to know, as\nthe beggars and strollers know the gipsy cant, which none can speak but\nthemselves; and this in letters of business is allowable, and, indeed,\nthey cannot understand one another without it.\nA brickmaker being hired by a brewer to make some bricks for him at his\ncountry-house, wrote to the brewer that he could not go forward unless\nhe had two or three loads _of spanish_, and that otherwise his bricks\nwould cost him six or seven chaldrons of coals extraordinary, and the\nbricks would not be so good and hard neither by a great deal, when they\nwere burnt.\nThe brewer sends him an answer, that he should go on as well as he could\nfor three or four days, and then the _spanish_ should be sent him:\naccordingly, the following week, the brewer sends him down two carts\nloaded with about twelve hogsheads or casks of molasses, which frighted\nthe brickmaker almost out of his senses. The case was this:-The brewers\nformerly mixed molasses with their ale to sweeten it, and abate the\nquantity of malt, molasses, being, at that time, much cheaper in\nproportion, and this they called _spanish_, not being willing that\npeople should know it. Again, the brickmakers all about London, do mix\nsea-coal ashes, or laystal-stuff, as we call it, with the clay of which\nthey make bricks, and by that shift save eight chaldrons of coals out of\neleven, in proportion to what other people use to burn them with, and\nthese ashes they call _spanish_.\nThus the received terms of art, in every particular business, are to be\nobserved, of which I shall speak to you in its turn: I name them here to\nintimate, that when I am speaking of plain writing in matters of\nbusiness, it must be understood with an allowance for all these\nthings--and a tradesman must be not only allowed to use them in his\nstyle, but cannot write properly without them--it is a particular\nexcellence in a tradesman to be able to know all the terms of art in\nevery separate business, so as to be able to speak or write to any\nparticular handicraft or manufacturer in his own dialect, and it is as\nnecessary as it is for a seaman to understand the names of all the\nseveral things belonging to a ship. This, therefore, is not to be\nunderstood when I say, that a tradesman should write plain and explicit,\nfor these things belong to, and are part of, the language of trade.\nBut even these terms of art, or customary expressions, are not to be\nused with affectation, and with a needless repetition, where they are\nnot called for.\nNor should a tradesman write those out-of-the-way words, though it is in\nthe way of the business he writes about, to any other person, who he\nknows, or has reason to believe, does not understand them--I say, he\nought not to write in those terms to such, because it shows a kind of\nostentation, and a triumph over the ignorance of the person they are\nwritten to, unless at the very same time you add an explanation of the\nterms, so as to make them assuredly intelligible at the place, and to\nthe person to whom they are sent.\nA tradesman, in such cases, like a parson, should suit his language to\nhis auditory; and it would be as ridiculous for a tradesman to write a\nletter filled with the peculiarities of this or that particular trade,\nwhich trade he knows the person he writes to is ignorant of, and the\nterms whereof he is unacquainted with, as it would be for a minister to\nquote the Chrysostome and St Austin, and repeat at large all their\nsayings in the Greek and the Latin, in a country church, among a parcel\nof ploughmen and farmers. Thus a sailor, writing a letter to a surgeon,\ntold him he had a swelling on the north-east side of his face--that his\nwindward leg being hurt by a bruise, it so put him out of trim, that he\nalways heeled to starboard when he made fresh way, and so run to\nleeward, till he was often forced aground; then he desired him to give\nhim some directions how to put himself into a sailing posture again. Of\nall which the surgeon understood little more than that he had a swelling\non his face, and a bruise in his leg.\nIt would be a very happy thing, if tradesmen had all their _lexicon\ntechnicum_ at their fingers' ends; I mean (for pray, remember, that I\nobserve my own rule, not to use a hard word without explaining it), that\nevery tradesman would study so the terms of art of other trades, that he\nmight be able to speak to every manufacturer or artist in his own\nlanguage, and understand them when they talked one to another: this\nwould make trade be a kind of universal language, and the particular\nmarks they are obliged to, would be like the notes of music, an\nuniversal character, in which all the tradesmen in England might write\nto one another in the language and characters of their several trades,\nand be as intelligible to one another as the minister is to his people,\nand perhaps much more.\nI therefore recommend it to every young tradesman to take all occasions\nto converse with mechanics of every kind, and to learn the particular\nlanguage of their business; not the names of their tools only, and the\nway of working with their instruments as well as hands, but the very\ncant of their trade, for every trade has its _nostrums_, and its little\nmade words, which they often pride themselves in, and which yet are\nuseful to them on some occasion or other.\nThere are many advantages to a tradesman in thus having a general\nknowledge of the terms of art, and the cant, as I call it, of every\nbusiness; and particularly this, that they could not be imposed upon so\neasily by other tradesmen, when they came to deal with them.\nIf you come to deal with a tradesman or handicraft man, and talk his own\nlanguage to him, he presently supposes you understand his business; that\nyou know what you come about; that you have judgment in his goods, or in\nhis art, and cannot easily be imposed upon; accordingly, he treats you\nlike a man that is not to be cheated, comes close to the point, and does\nnot crowd you with words and rattling talk to set out his wares, and to\ncover their defects; he finds you know where to look or feel for the\ndefect of things, and how to judge their worth. For example:--\nWhat trade has more hard words and peculiar ways attending it, than that\nof a jockey, or horse-courser, as we call them! They have all the parts\nof the horse, and all the diseases attending him, necessary to be\nmentioned in the market, upon every occasion of buying or bargaining. A\njockey will know you at first sight, when you do but go round a horse,\nor at the first word you say about him, whether you are a dealer, as\nthey call themselves, or a stranger. If you begin well, if you take up\nthe horse's foot right, if you handle him in the proper places, if you\nbid his servant open his mouth, or go about it yourself like a workman,\nif you speak of his shapes or goings in the proper words--'Oh!' says the\njockey to his fellow, 'he understands a horse, he speaks the language:'\nthen he knows you are not to be cheated, or, at least, not so easily;\nbut if you go awkwardly to work, whisper to your man you bring with you\nto ask every thing for you, cannot handle the horse yourself, or speak\nthe language of the trade, he falls upon you with his flourishes, and\nwith a flux of horse rhetoric imposes upon you with oaths and\nasseverations, and, in a word, conquers you with the mere clamour of his\ntrade.\nThus, if you go to a garden to buy flowers, plants, trees, and greens,\nif you know what you go about, know the names of flowers, or simples, or\ngreens; know the particular beauties of them, when they are fit to\nremove, and when to slip and draw, and when not; what colour is\nordinary, and what rare; when a flower is rare, and when ordinary--the\ngardener presently talks to you as to a man of art, tells you that you\nare a lover of art, a friend to a florist, shows you his exotics, his\ngreen-house, and his stores; what he has set out, and what he has budded\nor enarched, and the like; but if he finds you have none of the terms\nof art, know little or nothing of the names of plants, or the nature of\nplanting, he picks your pocket instantly, shows you a fine trimmed\nfuz-bush for a juniper, sells you common pinks for painted ladies, an\nordinary tulip for a rarity, and the like. Thus I saw a gardener sell a\ngentleman a large yellow auricula, that is to say, a _running away_, for\na curious flower, and take a great price. It seems, the gentleman was a\nlover of a good yellow; and it is known, that when nature in the\nauricula is exhausted, and has spent her strengh in showing a fine\nflower, perhaps some years upon the same root, she faints at last, and\nthen turns into a yellow, which yellow shall be bright and pleasant the\nfirst year, and look very well to one that knows nothing of it, though\nanother year it turns pale, and at length almost white. This the\ngardeners call a _run flower_, and this they put upon the gentleman for\na rarity, only because he discovered at his coming that he knew nothing\nof the matter. The same gardener sold another person a root of white\npainted thyme for the right _Marum Syriacum;_ and thus they do every\nday.\nA person goes into a brickmaker's field to view his clamp, and buy a\nload of bricks; he resolves to see them loaded, because he would have\ngood ones; but not understanding the goods, and seeing the workmen\nloading them where they were hard and well burnt, but looked white and\ngrey, which, to be sure, were the best of the bricks, and which perhaps\nthey would not have done if he had not been there to look at them, they\nsupposing he understood which were the best; but he, in the abundance of\nhis ignorance, finds fault with them, because they were not a good\ncolour, and did not look red; the brickmaker's men took the hint\nimmediately, and telling the buyer they would give him red bricks to\noblige him, turned their hands from the grey hard well-burnt bricks to\nthe soft _sammel_[9] half-burnt bricks, which they were glad to dispose\nof, and which nobody that had understood them would have taken off their\nhands.\nI mention these lower things, because I would suit my writing to the\nunderstanding of the meanest people, and speak of frauds used in the\nmost ordinary trades; but it is the like in almost all the goods a\ntradesman can deal in. If you go to Warwickshire to buy cheese, you\ndemand the cheese 'of the first make,' because that is the best. If you\ngo to Suffolk to buy butter, you refuse the butter of the first make,\nbecause that is not the best, but you bargain for 'the right rowing\nbutter,' which is the butter that is made when the cows are turned into\nthe grounds where the grass has been mowed, and the hay carried off, and\ngrown again: and so in many other cases. These things demonstrate\nthe advantages there are to a tradesman, in his being thoroughly\ninformed of the terms of art, and the peculiarities belonging to every\nparticular business, which, therefore, I call the language of trade.\nAs a merchant should understand all languages, at least the languages of\nthose countries which he trades to, or corresponds with, and the customs\nand usages of those countries as to their commerce, so an English\ntradesman ought to understand all the languages of trade, within the\ncircumference of his own country, at least, and particularly of such as\nhe may, by any of the consequences of his commerce, come to be any way\nconcerned with.\nEspecially, it is his business to acquaint himself with the terms and\ntrading style, as I call it, of those trades which he buys of, as to\nthose he sells to; supposing he sells to those who sell again, it is\ntheir business to understand him, not his to understand them: and if he\nfinds they do not understand him, he will not fail to make their\nignorance be his advantage, unless he is honester and more conscientious\nin his dealings than most of the tradesmen of this age seem to be.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[9] [_Sammel_ is a term of art the brickmakers use for those bricks\nwhich are not well burnt, and which generally look of a pale red colour,\nand as fair as the other, but are soft.]\nCHAPTER IV\nOF THE TRADESMAN ACQUAINTING HIMSELF WITH ALL BUSINESS IN GENERAL\nIt is the judgment of some experienced tradesmen, that no man ought to\ngo from one business to another, and launch out of the trade or\nemployment he was bred to: _Tractent fabrilia fabri_--'Every man to his\nown business;' and, they tell us, men never thrive when they do so.\nI will not enter into that dispute here. I know some good and\nencouraging examples of the contrary, and which stand as remarkable\ninstances, or as exceptions to the general rule: but let that be as it\nwill, sometimes providence eminently calls upon men out of one employ\ninto another, out of a shop into a warehouse, out of a warehouse into a\nshop, out of a single hand into a partnership, and the like; and they\ntrade one time here, another time there, and with very good success too.\nBut I say, be that as it will, a tradesman ought so far to acquaint\nhimself with business, that he should not be at a loss to turn his hand\nto this or that trade, as occasion presents, whether in or out of the\nway of his ordinary dealing, as we have often seen done in London and\nother places, and sometimes with good success.\nThis acquainting himself with business does not intimate that he should\nlearn every trade, or enter into the mystery of every employment. That\ncannot well be; but that he should have a true notion of business in\ngeneral, and a knowledge how and in what manner it is carried on; that\nhe should know where every manufacture is made, and how bought at first\nhand; that he should know which are the proper markets, and what the\nparticular kinds of goods to exchange at those markets; that he should\nknow the manner how every manufacture is managed, and the method of\ntheir sale.\nIt cannot be expected that he should have judgment in the choice of all\nkinds of goods, though in a great many he may have judgment too: but\nthere is a general understanding in trade, which every tradesman both\nmay and ought to arrive to; and this perfectly qualifies him to engage\nin any new undertaking, and to embark with other persons better\nqualified than himself in any new trade, which he was not in before; in\nwhich, though he may not have a particular knowledge and judgment in the\ngoods they are to deal in or to make, yet, having the benefit of the\nknowledge his new partner is master of, and being himself apt to take\nin all additional lights, he soon becomes experienced, and the knowledge\nof all the other parts of business qualifies him to be a sufficient\npartner. For example--A.B. was bred a dry-salter, and he goes in partner\nwith with C.D., a scarlet-dyer, called a bow-dyer, at Wandsworth.\nAs a salter, A.B. has had experience enough in the materials for dyeing,\nas well scarlets as all other colours, and understands very well the\nbuying of cochineal, indigo, galls, shumach, logwood, fustick, madder,\nand the like; so that he does his part very well. C.D. is an experienced\nscarlet-dyer; but now, doubling their stock, they fall into a larger\nwork, and they dye bays and stuffs, and other goods, into differing\ncolours, as occasion requires; and this brings them to an equality in\nthe business, and by hiring good experienced servants, they go on very\nwell together.\nThe like happens often when a tradesman turns his hand from one trade to\nanother; and when he embarks, either in partnership or out of it, in any\nnew business, it is supposed he seldom changes hands in such a manner\nwithout some such suitable person to join with, or that he has some\nexperienced head workman to direct him, which, if that workman proves\nhonest, is as well as a partner. On the other hand, his own application\nand indefatigable industry supply the want of judgment. Thus, I have\nknown several tradesmen turn their hands from one business to another,\nor from one trade entirely to another, and very often with good success.\nFor example, I have seen a confectioner turn a sugar-baker; another a\ndistiller; an apothecary turn chemist, and not a few turn physicians,\nand prove very good physicians too; but that is a step beyond what I am\nspeaking of.\nBut my argument turns upon this--that a tradesman ought to be able to\nturn his hand to any thing; that is to say, to lay down one trade and\ntake up another, if occasion leads him to it, and if he sees an evident\nview of profit and advantage in it; and this is only done by his having\na general knowledge of trade, so as to have a capacity of judging: and\nby but just looking upon what is offered or proposed, he sees as much at\nfirst view as others do by long inquiry, and with the judgment of many\nadvisers.\nWhen I am thus speaking of the tradesman's being capable of making\njudgment of things, it occurs, with a force not to be resisted, that I\nshould add, he is hereby fenced against bubbles and projects, and\nagainst those fatal people called projectors, who are, indeed, among\ntradesmen, as birds of prey are among the innocent fowls--devourers and\ndestroyers. A tradesman cannot be too well armed, nor too much\ncautioned, against those sort of people; they are constantly surrounded\nwith them, and are as much in jeopardy from them, as a man in a crowd is\nof having his pocket picked--nay, almost as a man is when in a crowd of\npickpockets.\nNothing secures the tradesman against those men so well as his being\nthoroughly knowing in business, having a judgment to weigh all the\ndelusive schemes and the fine promises of the wheedling projector, and\nto see which are likely to answer, or which not; to examine all his\nspecious pretences, his calculations and figures, and see whether they\nare as likely to answer the end as he takes upon him to say they will;\nto make allowances for all his fine flourishes and outsides, and then to\njudge for himself. A projector is to a tradesman a kind of incendiary;\nhe is in a constant plot to blow him up, or set fire to him; for\nprojects are generally as fatal to a tradesman as fire in a magazine of\ngunpowder.\nThe honest tradesman is always in danger, and cannot be too wary; and\ntherefore to fortify his judgment, that he may be able to guard against\nsuch people as these, is one of the most necessary things I can do for\nhim.\nIn order, then, to direct the tradesman how to furnish himself thus with\na needful stock of trading knowledge, first, I shall propose to him to\nconverse with tradesmen chiefly: he that will be a tradesman should\nconfine himself within his own sphere: never was the Gazette so full of\nthe advertisements of commissions of bankrupt as since our shopkeepers\nare so much engaged in parties, formed into clubs to hear news, and read\njournals and politics; in short, when tradesmen turn statesmen, they\nshould either shut up their shops, or hire somebody else to look after\nthem.\nThe known story of the upholsterer is very instructive,[10] who, in his\nabundant concern for the public, ran himself out of his business into a\njail; and even when he was in prison, could not sleep for the concern he\nhad for the liberties of his dear country: the man was a good patriot,\nbut a bad shopkeeper; and, indeed, should rather have shut up his shop,\nand got a commission in the army, and then he had served his country in\nthe way of his calling. But I may speak to this more in its turn.\nMy present subject is not the negative, what he should not do, but the\naffirmative, what he should do; I say, he should take all occasions to\nconverse within the circuit of his own sphere, that is, dwell upon the\nsubject of trade in his conversation, and sort with and converse among\ntradesmen as much as he can; as writing teaches to write--_scribendo\ndiscis scribere_--so conversing among tradesmen will make him a\ntradesman. I need not explain this so critically as to tell you I do not\nmean he should confine or restrain himself entirely from all manner of\nconversation but among his own class: I shall speak to that in its place\nalso. A tradesman may on occasion keep company with gentlemen as well\nas other people; nor is a trading man, if he is a man of sense,\nunsuitable or unprofitable for a gentleman to converse with, as occasion\nrequires; and you will often find, that not private gentlemen only, but\neven ministers of state, privy-councillors, members of parliament, and\npersons of all ranks in the government, find it for their purpose to\nconverse with tradesmen, and are not ashamed to acknowledge, that a\ntradesman is sometimes qualified to inform them in the most difficult\nand intricate, as well as the most urgent, affairs of government; and\nthis has been the reason why so many tradesmen have been advanced to\nhonours and dignities above their ordinary rank, as Sir Charles\nDuncombe, a goldsmith; Sir Henry Furnese, who was originally a retail\nhosier; Sir Charles Cook, late one of the board of trade, a merchant;\nSir Josiah Child, originally a very mean tradesman; the late Mr Lowndes,\nbred a scrivener; and many others, too many to name.\nBut these are instances of men called out of their lower sphere for\ntheir eminent usefulness, and their known capacities, being first known\nto be diligent and industrious men in their private and lower spheres;\nsuch advancements make good the words of the wise man--'Seest thou a man\ndiligent in his calling, he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand\nbefore mean men.[11]\nIn the mean time, the tradesman's proper business is in his shop or\nwarehouse, and among his own class or rank of people; there he sees how\nother men go on, and there he learns how to go on himself; there he sees\nhow other men thrive, and learns to thrive himself; there he hears all\nthe trading news--as for state news and politics, it is none of his\nbusiness; there he learns how to buy, and there he gets oftentimes\nopportunities to sell; there he hears of all the disasters in trade, who\nbreaks, and why; what brought such and such a man to misfortunes and\ndisasters; and sees the various ways how men go down in the world, as\nwell as the arts and management, by which others from nothing arise to\nwealth and estates.\nHere he sees the Scripture itself thwarted, and his neighbour tradesman,\na wholesale haberdasher, in spite of a good understanding, in spite of a\ngood beginning, and in spite of the most indefatigable industry, sink in\nhis circumstances, lose his credit, then his stock, and then break and\nbecome bankrupt, while the man takes more pains to be poor than others\ndo to grow rich.\nThere, on the other hand, he sees G.D., a plodding, weak-headed, but\nlaborious wretch, of a confined genius, and that cannot look a quarter\nof a mile from his shop-door into the world, and beginning with little\nor nothing, yet rises apace in the mere road of business, in which he\ngoes on like the miller's horse, who, being tied to the post, is turned\nround by the very wheel which he turns round himself; and this fellow\nshall get money insensibly, and grow rich even he knows not how, and no\nbody else knows why.\nHere he sees F.M. ruined by too much trade, and there he sees M.F.\nstarved for want of trade; and from all these observations he may learn\nsomething useful to himself, and fit to guide his own measures, that he\nmay not fall into the same mischiefs which he sees others sink under,\nand that he may take the advantage of that prudence which others rise\nby.\nAll these things will naturally occur to him, in his conversing among\nhis fellow-tradesmen. A settled little society of trading people, who\nunderstand business, and are carrying on trade in the same manner with\nhimself, no matter whether they are of the very same trades or no, and\nperhaps better not of the same--such a society, I say, shall, if due\nobservations are made from it, teach the tradesman more than his\napprenticeship; for there he learned the operation, here he learns the\nprogression; his apprenticeship is his grammar-school, this is his\nuniversity; behind his master's counter, or in his warehouse, he learned\nthe first rudiments of trade, but here he learns the trading sciences;\nhere he comes to learn the _arcana_, speak the language, understand the\nmeaning of every thing, of which before he only learned the beginning:\nthe apprenticeship inducts him, and leads him as the nurse the child;\nthis finishes him; there he learned the beginning of trade, here he sees\nit in its full extent; in a word, there he learned to trade, here he is\nmade a complete tradesman.\nLet no young tradesman object, that, in the conversation I speak of,\nthere are so many gross things said, and so many ridiculous things\nargued upon, there being always a great many weak empty heads among the\nshopkeeping trading world: this may be granted without any impeachment\nof what I have advanced--for where shall a man converse, and find no\nfools in the society?--and where shall he hear the weightiest things\ndebated, and not a great many empty weak things offered, out of which\nnothing can be learned, and from which nothing can be deduced?--for 'out\nof nothing, nothing can come.'\nBut, notwithstanding, let me still insist upon it to the tradesman to\nkeep company with tradesmen; let the fool run on in his own way; let the\ntalkative green-apron rattle in his own way; let the manufacturer and\nhis factor squabble and brangle; the grave self-conceited puppy, who was\nborn a boy, and will die before he is a man, chatter and say a great\ndeal of nothing, and talk his neighbours to death--out of every one you\nwill learn something--they are all tradesmen, and there is always\nsomething for a young tradesman to learn from them. If, understanding\nbut a little French, you were to converse every day a little among some\nFrenchmen in your neighbourhood, and suppose those Frenchmen, you thus\nkept company with, were every one of them fools, mere ignorant, empty,\nfoolish fellows, there might be nothing learnt from their sense, but you\nwould still learn French from them, if it was no more than the tone and\naccent, and the ordinary words usual in conversation.\nThus, among your silly empty tradesmen, let them be as foolish and empty\nother ways as you can suggest, though you can learn no philosophy from\nthem, you may learn many things in trade from them, and something from\nevery one; for though it is not absolutely necessary that every\ntradesman should be a philosopher, yet every tradesman, in his way,\nknows something that even a philosopher may learn from.\nI knew a philosopher that was excellently skilled in the noble science\nor study of astronomy, who told me he had some years studied for some\nsimile, or proper allusion, to explain to his scholars the phenomena of\nthe sun's motion round its own axis, and could never happen upon one to\nhis mind, till by accident he saw his maid Betty trundling her mop:\nsurprised with the exactness of the motion to describe the thing he\nwanted, he goes into his study, calls his pupils about him, and tells\nthem that Betty, who herself knew nothing of the matter, could show them\nthe sun revolving about itself in a more lively manner than ever he\ncould. Accordingly, Betty was called, and bidden bring out her mop,\nwhen, placing his scholars in a due-position, opposite not to the face\nof the maid, but to her left side, so that they could see the end of the\nmop, when it whirled round upon her arm. They took it immediately--there\nwas the broad-headed nail in the centre, which was as the body of the\nsun, and the thrums whisking round, flinging the water about every way\nby innumerable little streams, describing exactly the rays of the sun,\ndarting light from the centre to the whole system.\nIf ignorant Betty, by the natural consequences of her operation,\ninstructed the astronomer, why may not the meanest shoemaker or pedlar,\nby the ordinary sagacity of his trading wit, though it may be indeed\nvery ordinary, coarse, and unlooked for, communicate something, give\nsome useful hint, dart some sudden thought into the mind of the\nobserving tradesman, which he shall make his use of, and apply to his\nown advantage in trade, when, at the same time, he that gives such hint\nshall himself, like Betty and her mop, know nothing of the matter?\nEvery tradesman is supposed to manage his business his own way, and,\ngenerally speaking, most tradesmen have some ways peculiar and\nparticular to themselves, which they either derived from the masters\nwho taught them, or from the experience of things, or from something in\nthe course of their business, which had not happened to them before.\nAnd those little _nostrums_ are oftentime very properly and with\nadvantage communicated from one to another; one tradesman finds out a\nnearer way of buying than another, another finds a vent for what is\nbought beyond what his neighbour knows of, and these, in time, come to\nbe learned of them by their ordinary conversation.\nI am not for confining the tradesman from keeping better company, as\noccasion and leisure requires; I allow the tradesman to act the\ngentleman sometimes, and that even for conversation, at least if his\nunderstanding and capacity make him suitable company to them, but still\nhis business is among those of his own rank. The conversation of\ngentlemen, and what they call keeping good company, may be used as a\ndiversion, or as an excursion, but his stated society must be with his\nneighbours, and people in trade; men of business are companions for men\nof business; with gentlemen he may converse pleasantly, but here he\nconverses profitably; tradesmen are always profitable to one another; as\nthey always gain by trading together, so they never lose by conversing\ntogether; if they do not get money, they gain knowledge in business,\nimprove their experience, and see farther and farther into the world.\nA man of but an ordinary penetration will improve himself by conversing\nin matters of trade with men of trade; by the experience of the old\ntradesmen they learn caution and prudence, and by the rashness and the\nmiscarriages of the young, they learn what are the mischiefs that\nthemselves may be exposed to.\nAgain, in conversing with men of trade, they get trade; men first talk\ntogether, then deal together--many a good bargain is made, and many a\npound gained, where nothing was expected, by mere casual coming to talk\ntogether, without knowing any thing of the matter before they met. The\ntradesmen's meetings are like the merchants' exchange, where they\nmanage, negociate, and, indeed, beget business with one another.\nLet no tradesman mistake me in this part; I am not encouraging them to\nleave their shops and warehouses, to go to taverns and ale-houses, and\nspend their time there in unnecessary prattle, which, indeed, is nothing\nbut sotting and drinking; this is not meeting to do business, but to\nneglect business. Of which I shall speak fully afterwards.\nBut the tradesmen conversing with one another, which I mean, is the\ntaking suitable occasions to discourse with their fellow tradesmen,\nmeeting them in the way of their business, and improving their spare\nhours together. To leave their shops, and quit their counters, in the\nproper seasons for their attendance there, would be a preposterous\nnegligence, would be going out of business to gain business, and would\nbe cheating themselves, instead of improving themselves. The proper\nhours of business are sacred to the shop and the warehouse. He that goes\nout of the order of trade, let the pretence of business be what it will,\nloses his business, not increases it; and will, if continued, lose the\ncredit of his conduct in business also.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[10] [The story of the political upholsterer forms the subject of\nseveral amusing papers by Addison in the _Tatler_.]\n[11] [To stand in the presence of a prince is the highest mark of honour\nin the east, as to sit is with us.]\nCHAPTER V\nDILIGENCE AND APPLICATION IN BUSINESS\nSolomon was certainly a friend to men of business, as it appears by his\nfrequent good advice to them. In Prov. xviii. 9, he says, 'He that is\nslothful in business, is brother to him that is a great waster:' and in\nanother place, 'The sluggard shall be clothed in rags,' (Prov. xxiii.\n1), or to that purpose. On the contrary, the same wise man, by way of\nencouragement, tells them, 'The diligent hand maketh rich,' (Prov. x.\n4), and, 'The diligent shall bear rule, but the slothful shall be under\ntribute.'\nNothing can give a greater prospect of thriving to a young tradesman,\nthan his own diligence; it fills himself with hope, and gives him credit\nwith all who know him; without application, nothing in this world goes\nforward as it should do: let the man have the most perfect knowledge of\nhis trade, and the best situation for his shop, yet without application\nnothing will go on. What is the shop without the master? what the books\nwithout the book-keeper? what the credit without the man? Hark how the\npeople talk of such conduct as the slothful negligent trader discovers\nin his way.\n'Such a shop,' says the customer, 'stands well, and there is a good\nstock of goods in it, but there is nobody to serve but a 'prentice-boy\nor two, and an idle journeyman: one finds them always at play together,\nrather than looking out for customers; and when you come to buy, they\nlook as if they did not care whether they showed you any thing or no.\nOne never sees a master in the shop, if we go twenty times, nor anything\nthat bears the face of authority. Then, it is a shop always exposed, it\nis perfectly haunted with thieves and shop-lifters; they see nobody but\nraw boys in it, that mind nothing, and the diligent devils never fail to\nhaunt them, so that there are more outcries of 'Stop thief!' at their\ndoor, and more constables fetched to that shop, than to all the shops in\nthe row. There was a brave trade at that shop in Mr--'s time: he was a\ntrue shopkeeper; like the quack doctor, you never missed him from seven\nin the morning till twelve, and from two till nine at night, and he\nthrove accordingly--he left a good estate behind him. But I don't know\nwhat these people are; they say there are two partners of them, but\nthere had as good be none, for they are never at home, nor in their\nshop: one wears a long wig and a sword, I hear, and you see him often\nin the Mall and at court, but very seldom in his shop, or waiting on his\ncustomers; and the other, they say, lies a-bed till eleven o'clock every\nday, just comes into the shop and shows himself, then stalks about to\nthe tavern to take a whet, then to Child's coffee-house to hear the\nnews, comes home to dinner at one, takes a long sleep in his chair after\nit, and about four o'clock comes into the shop for half an hour, or\nthereabouts, then to the tavern, where he stays till two in the morning,\ngets drunk, and is led home by the watch, and so lies till eleven again;\nand thus he walks round like the hand of a dial. And what will it all\ncome to?--they'll certainly break, that you may be sure of; they can't\nhold it long.'\n'This is the town's way of talking, where they see an example of it in\nthe manner as is described; nor are the inferences unjust, any more than\nthe description is unlike, for such certainly is the end of such\nmanagement, and no shop thus neglected ever made a tradesman rich.\nOn the contrary, customers love to see the master's face in the shop,\nand to go to a shop where they are sure to find him at home. When he\ndoes not sell, or cannot take the price offered, yet the customers are\nnot disobliged, and if they do not deal now, they may another time: if\nthey do deal, the master generally gets a better price for his goods\nthan a servant can, besides that he gives better content; and yet the\ncustomers always think they buy cheaper of the master too.\nI seem to be talking now of the mercer or draper, as if my discourse\nwere wholly bent and directed to them; but it is quite contrary, for it\nconcerns every tradesman--the advice is general, and every tradesman\nclaims a share in it; the nature of trade requires it. It is an old\nAnglicism, 'Such a man drives a trade;' the allusion is to a carter,\nthat with his voice, his hands, his whip, and his constant attendance,\nkeeps the team always going, helps himself, lifts at the wheel in every\nslough, doubles his application upon every difficulty, and, in a word,\nto complete the simile, if he is not always with his horses, either the\nwagon is set in a hole, or the team stands still, or, which is worst of\nall, the load is spoiled by the waggon overthrowing.\nIt is therefore no improper speech to say, such a man drives his trade;\nfor, in short, if trade is not driven, it will not go.\nTrade is like a hand-mill, it must always be turned about by the\ndiligent hand of the master; or, if you will, like the pump-house at\nAmsterdam, where they put offenders in for petty matters, especially\nbeggars; if they will work and keep pumping, they sit well, and dry and\nsafe, and if they work very hard one hour or two, they may rest,\nperhaps, a quarter of an hour afterwards; but if they oversleep\nthemselves, or grow lazy, the water comes in upon them and wets them,\nand they have no dry place to stand in, much less to sit down in; and,\nin short, if they continue obstinately idle, they must sink; so that it\nis nothing but _pump_ or _drown_, and they may choose which they like\nbest.\nHe that engages in trade, and does not resolve to work at it, is _felo\nde se_; it is downright murdering himself; that is to say, in his\ntrading capacity, he murders his credit, he murders his stock, and he\nstarves, which is as bad as murdering, his family.\nTrade must not be entered into as a thing of light concern; it is called\nbusiness very properly, for it is a business _for_ life, and ought to be\nfollowed as one of the great businesses _of_ life--I do not say the\nchief, but one of the great businesses of life it certainly is--trade\nmust, I say, be worked at, not played with; he that trades in jest, will\ncertainly break in earnest; and this is one reason indeed why so many\ntradesmen come to so hasty a conclusion of their affairs.\nThere was another old English saying to this purpose, which shows how\nmuch our old fathers were sensible of the duty of a shopkeeper: speaking\nof the tradesman as just opening his shop, and beginning a dialogue with\nit; the result of which is, that the shop replies to the tradesman thus:\n'Keep me, and I will keep thee.' It is the same with driving the trade;\nif the shopkeeper will not keep, that is, diligently attend to his shop,\nthe shop will not keep, that is, maintain him: and in the other sense it\nis harsher to him, if he will not drive his trade, the trade will drive\nhim; that is, drive him out of the shop, drive him away.\nAll these old sayings have this monitory substance in them; namely, they\nall concur to fill a young tradesman with true notions of what he is\ngoing about; and that the undertaking of a trade is not a sport or game,\nin which he is to meet with diversions only, and entertainment, and not\nto be in the least troubled or disturbed: trade is a daily employment,\nand must be followed as such, with the full attention of the mind, and\nfull attendance of the person; nothing but what are to be called the\nnecessary duties of life are to intervene; and even these are to be\nlimited so as not to be prejudicial to business.\nAnd now I am speaking of the necessary things which may intervene, and\nwhich may divide the time with our business or trade, I shall state the\nmanner in a few words, that the tradesman may neither give too much, nor\ntake away too much, to or from any respective part of what may be called\nhis proper employment, but keep as due a balance of his time as he\nshould of his books or cash.\nThe life of man is, or should be, a measure of allotted time; as his\ntime is measured out to him, so the measure is limited, must end, and\nthe end of it is appointed.\nThe purposes for which time is given, and life bestowed, are very\nmomentous; no time is given uselessly, and for nothing; time is no more\nto be unemployed, than it is to be ill employed. Three things are\nchiefly before us in the appointment of our time: 1. Necessaries of\nnature. 2. Duties of religion, or things relating to a future life. 3.\nDuties of the present life, namely, business and calling.\nI. Necessities of nature, such as eating and drinking; rest, or sleep;\nand in case of disease, a recess from business; all which have two\nlimitations on them, and no more; namely, that they be\n1. Referred to their proper seasons.\n2. Used with moderation.\nBoth these might give me subject to write many letters upon; but I study\nbrevity, and desire rather to hint than dwell upon things which are\nserious and grave, because I would not tire you.\nII. Duties of religion: these may be called necessities too in their\nkind, and that of the sublimest nature; and they ought not to be thrust\nat all out of their place, and yet they ought to be kept in their place\ntoo.\nIII. Duties of life, that is to say, business, or employment, or\ncalling, which are divided into three kinds:\n1. Labour, or servitude.\n2. Employment.\n3. Trade.\nBy labour, I mean the poor manualist, whom we properly call the\nlabouring man, who works for himself indeed in one respect, but\nsometimes serves and works for wages, as a servant, or workman.\nBy employment, I mean men in business, which yet is not properly called\ntrade, such as lawyers, physicians, surgeons, scriveners, clerks,\nsecretaries, and such like: and\nBy trade I mean merchants and inland-traders, such as are already\ndescribed in the introduction to this work.\nTo speak of time, it is divided among these; even in them all there is a\njust equality of circumstances to be preserved, and as diligence is\nrequired in one, and necessity to be obeyed in another, so duty is to be\nobserved in the third; and yet all these with such a due regard to one\nanother, as that one duty may not jostle out another; and every thing\ngoing on with an equality and just regard to the nature of the thing,\nthe tradesman may go on with a glad heart and a quiet conscience.\nThis article is very nice, as I intend to speak to it; and it is a\ndangerous thing indeed to speak to, lest young tradesmen, treading on\nthe brink of duty on one side, and duty on the other side, should\npretend to neglect their duty to heaven, on pretence that I say they\nmust not neglect their shops. But let them do me justice, and they will\ndo themselves no injury; nor do I fear that my arguing on this point\nshould give them any just cause to go wrong; if they will go wrong, and\nplead my argument for their excuse, it must be by their abusing my\ndirections, and taking them in pieces, misplacing the words, and\ndisjointing the sense, and by the same method they may make blasphemy\nof the Scripture.\nThe duties of life, I say, must not interfere with one another, must not\njostle one another out of the place, or so break in as to be prejudicial\nto one another. It is certainly the duty of every Christian to worship\nGod, to pay his homage morning and evening to his Maker, and at all\nother proper seasons to behave as becomes a sincere worshipper of God;\nnor must any avocation, either of business or nature, however necessary,\ninterfere with this duty, either in public or in private. This is\nplainly asserting the necessity of the duty, so no man can pretend to\nevade that.\nBut the duties of nature and religion also have such particular seasons,\nand those seasons so proper to themselves, and so stated, as not to\nbreak in or trench upon one another, that we are really without excuse,\nif we let any one be pleaded for the neglect of the other. Food, sleep,\nrest, and the necessities of nature, are either reserved for the night,\nwhich is appointed for man to rest, or take up so little room in the\nday, that they can never be pleaded in bar of either religion or\nemployment.\nHe, indeed, who will sleep when he should work, and perhaps drink when\nhe should sleep, turns nature bottom upwards, inverts the appointment of\nprovidence, and must account to himself, and afterwards to a higher\njudge, for the neglect.\nThe devil--if it be the devil that tempts, for I would not wrong Satan\nhimself--plays our duties often one against another; and to bring us, if\npossible, into confusion in our conduct, subtly throws religion out of\nits place, to put it in our way, and to urge us to a breach of what we\nought to do: besides this subtle tempter--for, as above, I won't charge\nit all upon the devil--we have a great hand in it ourselves; but let it\nbe who it will, I say, this subtle tempter hurries the well-meaning\ntradesman to act in all manner of irregularity, that he may confound\nreligion and business, and in the end may destroy both.\nWhen the tradesman well inclined rises early in the morning, and is\nmoved, as in duty to his Maker he ought, to pay his morning vows to him\neither in his closet, or at the church, where he hears the six o'clock\nbell ring to call his neighbours to the same duty--then the secret hint\ncomes across his happy intention, that he must go to such or such a\nplace, that he may be back time enough for such other business as has\nbeen appointed over-night, and both perhaps may be both lawful and\nnecessary; so his diligence oppresses his religion, and away he runs to\ntransact his business, and neglects his morning sacrifice to his Maker.\nOn the other hand, and at another time, being in his shop, or his\ncounting-house, or warehouse, a vast throng of business upon his hands,\nand the world in his head, when it is highly his duty to attend it, and\nshall be to his prejudice to absent himself--then the same deceiver\npresses him earnestly to go to his closet, or to the church to prayers,\nduring which time his customer goes to another place, the neighbours\nmiss him in his shop, his business is lost, his reputation suffers; and\nby this turned into a practice, the man may say his prayers so long and\nso unseasonably till he is undone, and not a creditor he has (I may give\nit him from experience) will use him the better, or show him the more\nfavour, when a commission of bankrupt comes out against him.\nThus, I knew once a zealous, pious, religious tradesman, who would\nalmost shut up his shop every day about nine or ten o'clock to call all\nhis family together to prayers; and yet he was no presbyterian, I assure\nyou; I say, he would almost shut up his shop, for he would suffer none\nof his servants to be absent from his family worship.\nThis man had certainly been right, had he made all his family get up by\nsix o'clock in the morning, and called them to prayers before he had\nopened his shop; but instead of that, he first suffered sleep to\ninterfere with religion, and lying a-bed to postpone and jostle out his\nprayers--and then, to make God Almighty amends upon himself, wounds his\nfamily by making his prayers interfere with his trade, and shuts his\ncustomers out of his shop; the end of which was, the poor good man\ndeceived himself, and lost his business.\nAnother tradesman, whom I knew personally well, was raised in the\nmorning very early, by the outcries of his wife, to go and fetch a\nmidwife. It was necessary, in his way, to go by a church, where there\nwas always, on that day of the week, a morning sermon early, for the\nsupplying the devotion of such early Christians as he; so the honest\nman, seeing the door open, steps in, and seeing the minister just gone\nup into the pulpit, sits down, joins in the prayers, hears the sermon,\nand goes very gravely home again; in short, his earnestness in the\nworship, and attention to what he had heard, quite put the errand he was\nsent about out of his head; and the poor woman in travail, after having\nwaited long for the return of her husband with the midwife, was obliged\n(having run an extreme hazard by depending on his expedition) to\ndispatch other messengers, who fetched the midwife, and she was come,\nand the work over, long before the sermon was done, or that any body\nheard of the husband: at last, he was met coming gravely home from the\nchurch, when being upbraided with his negligence, in a dreadful surprise\nhe struck his hands together, and cried out, 'How is my wife? I profess\nI forgot it!'\nWhat shall we say now to this ill-timed devotion, and who must tempt the\npoor man to this neglect? Certainly, had he gone for the midwife, it had\nbeen much more his duty, than to go to hear a sermon at that time.\nI knew also another tradesman, who was such a sermon-hunter, and, as\nthere are lectures and sermons preached in London, either in the\nchurches or meeting-houses, almost every day in the week, used so\nassiduously to hunt out these occasions, that whether it was in a church\nor meeting-house, or both, he was always abroad to hear a sermon, at\nleast once every day, and sometimes more; and the consequence was, that\nthe man lost his trade, his shop was entirely neglected, the time which\nwas proper for him to apply to his business was misapplied, his trade\nfell off, and the man broke.\nNow it is true, and I ought to take notice of it also, that, though\nthese things happen, and may wrong a tradesman, yet it is oftener, ten\ntimes for once, that tradesmen neglect their shop and business to follow\nthe track of their vices and extravagence--some by taverns, others to\nthe gaming-houses, others to balls and masquerades, plays, harlequins,\nand operas, very few by too much religion.\nBut my inference is still sound, and the more effectually so as to that\npart; for if our business and trades are not to be neglected, no, not\nfor the extraordinary excursions of religion, and religious duties, much\nless are they to be neglected for vices and extravagances.\nThis is an age of gallantry and gaiety, and never was the city\ntransposed to the court as it is now; the play-houses and balls are now\nfilled with citizens and young tradesmen, instead of gentlemen and\nfamilies of distinction; the shopkeepers wear a differing garb now, and\nare seen with their long wigs and swords, rather than with aprons on, as\nwas formerly the figure they made.\nBut what is the difference in the consequences? You did not see in those\ndays acts of grace for the relief of insolvent debtors almost every\nsession of parliament, and yet the jails filled with insolvents before\nthe next year, though ten or twelve thousand have been released at a\ntime by those acts.\nNor did you hear of so many commissions of bankrupt every week in the\nGazette, as is now the case; in a word, whether you take the lower sort\nof tradesman, or the higher, where there were twenty that failed in\nthose days, I believe I speak within compass if I say that five hundred\nturn insolvent now; it is, as I said above, an age of pleasure, and as\nthe wise man said long ago, 'He that loves pleasure shall be a poor\nman'--so it is now; it is an age of drunkenness and extravagance, and\nthousands ruin themselves by that; it is an age of luxurious and\nexpensive living, and thousands more undo themselves by that; but, among\nall our vices, nothing ruins a tradesman so effectually as the neglect\nof his business: it is true, all those things prompt men to neglect\ntheir business, but the more seasonable is the advice; either enter upon\nno trade, undertake no business, or, having undertaken it, pursue it\ndiligently: drive your trade, that the world may not drive you out of\ntrade, and ruin and undo you. Without diligence a man can never\nthoroughly understand his business and how should a man thrive, when he\ndoes not perfectly know what he is doing, or how to do it? Application\nto his trade teaches him how to carry it on, as much as his going\napprentice taught him how to set it up. Certainly, that man shall never\nimprove in his trading knowledge, that does not know his business, or\nhow to carry it on: the diligent tradesman is always the knowing and\ncomplete tradesman.\nNow, in order to have a man apply heartily, and pursue earnestly, the\nbusiness he is engaged in, there is yet another thing necessary, namely,\nthat he should delight in it: to follow a trade, and not to love and\ndelight in it, is a slavery, a bondage, not a business: the shop is a\nbridewell, and the warehouse a house of correction to the tradesman, if\nhe does not delight in his trade. While he is bound, as we say, to keep\nhis shop, he is like the galley-slave chained down to the oar; he tugs\nand labours indeed, and exerts the utmost of his strength, for fear of\nthe strapado, and because he is obliged to do it; but when he is on\nshore, and is out from the bank, he abhors the labour, and hates to come\nto it again.\nTo delight in business is making business pleasant and agreeable; and\nsuch a tradesman cannot but be diligent in it, which, according to\nSolomon, makes him certainly rich, and in time raises him above the\nworld and able to instruct and encourage those who come after him.\nCHAPTER VI\nOVER-TRADING\nIt is an observation, indeed, of my own, but I believe it will hold true\nalmost in all the chief trading towns in England, that there are more\ntradesmen undone by having too much trade, than for want of trade.\nOver-trading is among tradesmen as over-lifting is among strong men:\nsuch people, vain of the strengh, and their pride prompting them to put\nit to the utmost trial, at last lift at something too heavy for them,\nover-strain their sinews, break some of nature's bands, and are cripples\never after.\nI take over-trading to be to a shopkeeper as ambition is to a prince.\nThe late king of France, the great king Louis, ambition led him to\ninvade the dominions of his neighbours; and while upon the empire here,\nor the states-general there, or the Spanish Netherlands on another\nquarter, he was an over-match for every one, and, in their single\ncapacity, he gained from them all; but at last pride made him think\nhimself a match for them all together, and he entered into a declared\nwar against the emperor and the empire, the kings of Spain and Great\nBritain, and the states of Holland, all at once. And what was the\nconsequence? They reduced him to the utmost distress, he lost all his\nconquests, was obliged, by a dishonourable peace, to quit what he had\ngot by encroachment, to demolish his invincible towns, such as Pignerol,\nDunkirk, &c., the two strongest fortresses in Europe; and, in a word,\nlike a bankrupt monarch, he may, in many cases, be said to have died a\nbeggar.\nThus the strong man in the fable, who by main strength used to rive a\ntree, undertook one at last which was too strong for him, and it closed\nupon his fingers, and held him till the wild beasts came and devoured\nhim. Though the story is a fable, the moral is good to my present\npurpose, and is not at all above my subject; I mean that of a tradesman,\nwho should be warned against over-trading, as earnestly, and with as\nmuch passion, as I would warn a dealer in gunpowder to be wary of fire,\nor a distiller or rectifier of spirits to moderate his furnace, lest the\nheads of his stills fly off, and he should be scalded to death.\nFor a young tradesman to over-trade himself, is like a young swimmer\ngoing out of his depth, when, if help does not come immediately, it is a\nthousand to one but he sinks, and is drowned. All rash adventures are\ncondemned by the prudent part of mankind; but it is as hard to restrain\nyouth in trade, as it is in any other thing, where the advantage stands\nin view, and the danger out of sight; the profits of trade are baits to\nthe avaricious shopkeeper, and he is forward to reckon them up to\nhimself, but does not perhaps cast up the difficulty which there may be\nto compass it, or the unhappy consequences of a miscarriage.\nFor want of this consideration, the tradesman oftentimes drowns, as I\nmay call it, even within his depth--that is, he sinks when he has really\nthe substance at bottom to keep him up--and this is all owing to an\nadventurous bold spirit in trade, joined with too great a gust of gain.\nAvarice is the ruin of many people besides tradesmen; and I might give\nthe late South Sea calamity for an example in which the longest heads\nwere most overreached, not so much by the wit or cunning of those they\nhad to deal with as by the secret promptings of their own avarice;\nwherein they abundantly verified an old proverbial speech or saying,\nnamely, 'All covet, all lose;' so it was there indeed, and the\ncunningest, wisest, sharpest, men lost the most money.\nThere are two things which may be properly called over-trading, in a\nyoung beginner; and by both which tradesmen are often overthrown.\n1. Trading beyond their stock.\n2. Giving too large credit.\nA tradesman ought to consider and measure well the extent of his own\nstrengh; his stock of money, and credit, is properly his beginning; for\ncredit is a stock as well as money. He that takes too much credit is\nreally in as much danger as he that gives too much credit; and the\ndanger lies particularly in this, if the tradesman over-buys himself,\nthat is, buys faster than he can sell, buying upon credit, the payments\nperhaps become due too soon for him; the goods not being sold, he must\nanswer the bills upon the strength of his proper stock--that is, pay for\nthem out of his own cash; if that should not hold out, he is obliged to\nput off his bills after they are due, or suffer the impertinence of\nbeing dunned by the creditor, and perhaps by servants and apprentices,\nand that with the usual indecencies of such kind of people.\nThis impairs his credit, and if he comes to deal with the same merchant,\nor clothier, or other tradesman again, he is treated like one that is\nbut an indifferent paymaster; and though they may give him credit as\nbefore, yet depending that if he bargains for six months, he will take\neight or nine in the payment, they consider it in the price, and use him\naccordingly; and this impairs his gain, so that loss of credit is indeed\nloss of money, and this weakens him both ways.\nA tradesman, therefore, especially at his beginning, ought to be very\nwary of taking too much credit; he had much better slip the occasion of\nbuying now and then a bargain to his advantage, for that is usually the\ntemptation, than buying a greater quantity of goods than he can pay for,\nrun into debt, and be insulted, and at last ruined. Merchants, and\nwholesale dealers, to put off their goods, are very apt to prompt young\nshopkeepers and young tradesmen to buy great quantities of goods, and\ntake large credit at first; but it is a snare that many a young beginner\nhas fallen into, and been ruined in the very bud; for if the young\nbeginner does not find a vent for the quantity, he is undone; for at the\ntime of payment the merchant expects his money, whether the goods are\nsold or not; and if he cannot pay, he is gone at once.\nThe tradesman that buys warily, always pays surely, and every young\nbeginner ought to buy cautiously; if he has money to pay, he need never\nfear goods to be had; the merchants' warehouses are always open, and he\nmay supply himself upon all occasions, as he wants, and as his customers\ncall.\nIt may pass for a kind of an objection here, that there are some goods\nwhich a tradesman may deal in, which are to be bought at such and such\nmarkets only, and at such and such fairs only, that is to say, are\nchiefly bought there; as the cheesemongers buy their stocks of cheese\nand of butter, the cheese at several fairs in Warwickshire, as at\nAtherston fair in particular, or at fair in Gloucestershire, and at\nSturbridge fair, near Cambridge; and their butter at Ipswich fair, in\nSuffolk; and so of many other things; but the answer is plain: those\nthings which are generally bought thus, are ready money goods, and the\ntradesman has a sure rule for buying, namely, his cash. But as I am\nspeaking of taking credit, so I must be necessarily supposed to speak of\nsuch goods as are bought upon credit, as the linen-draper buys of the\nHamburgh and Dutch merchants, the woollen-draper of the Blackwell-hall\nmen, the haberdasher of the thread merchants, the mercer of the weavers\nand Italian merchants, the silk-man of the Turkey merchants, and the\nlike; here they are under no necessity of running deep into debt, but\nmay buy sparingly, and recruit again as they sell off.\nI know some tradesmen are very fond of seeing their shops well-stocked,\nand their warehouses full of goods, and this is a snare to them, and\nbrings them to buy in more goods than they want; but this is a great\nerror, either in their judgment or their vanity; for, except in\nretailers' shops, and that in some trades where they must have a great\nchoice of goods, or else may want a trade, otherwise a well-experienced\ntradesman had rather see his warehouse too empty than too full: if it be\ntoo empty, he can fill it when he pleases, if his credit be good, or his\ncash strong; but a thronged warehouse is a sign of a want of customers,\nand of a bad market; whereas, an empty warehouse is a sign of a nimble\ndemand.[12]\nLet no young tradesman value himself upon having a very great throng of\ngoods in hand, having just a necessary supply to produce a choice of new\nand fashionable goods--nay, though he be a mercer, for they are the most\nunder the necessity of a large stock of goods; but I say, supposing even\nthe mercer to have a tolerable show and choice of fashionable goods,\nthat gives his shop a reputation, he derives no credit at all from a\nthrong of old shopkeepers, as they call them, namely, out-of-fashion\nthings: but in other trades it is much more a needful caution; a few\ngoods, and a quick sale, is the beauty of a tradesman's warehouse, or\nshop either; and it is his wisdom to keep himself in that posture that\nhis payments may come in on his front as fast as they go out in his\nrear; that he may be able to answer the demands of his merchants or\ndealers, and, if possible, let no man come twice for his money.\nThe reason of this is plain, and leads me back to where I began; credit\nis stock, and, if well supported, is as good as a stock, and will be as\ndurable. A tradesman whose credit is good, untouched, unspotted, and\nwho, as above, has maintained it with care, shall in many cases buy his\ngoods as cheap at three or four months' time of payment, as another man\nshall with ready money--I say in some cases, and in goods which are\nordinarily sold for time, as all our manufactures, the bay trade\nexcepted, generally are.\nHe, then, that keeps his credit unshaken, has a double stock--I mean, it\nis an addition to his real stock, and often superior to it: nay, I have\nknown several considerable tradesmen in this city who have traded with\ngreat success, and to a very considerable degree, and yet have not had\nat bottom one shilling real stock; but by the strength of their\nreputation, being sober and diligent, and having with care preserved the\ncharacter of honest men, and the credit of their business, by cautious\ndealing and punctual payments, they have gone on till the gain of their\ntrade has effectually established them, and they have raised estates out\nof nothing.\nBut to return to the dark side, namely, over-trading; the second danger\nis the giving too much credit. He that takes credit may give credit, but\nhe must be exceedingly watchful; for it is the most dangerous state of\nlife that a tradesman can live in, for he is in as much jeopardy as a\nseaman upon a lee-shore.\nIf the people he trusts fail, or fail but of a punctual compliance with\nhim, he can never support his own credit, unless by the caution I am now\ngiving; that is, to be very sure not to give so much credit as he takes.\nBy the word _so much_, I must be understood thus--either he must sell\nfor shorter time than he takes, or in less quantity; the last is the\nsafest, namely, that he should be sure not to trust out so much as he is\ntrusted with. If he has a real stock, indeed, besides the credit he\ntakes, that, indeed, makes the case differ; and a man that can pay his\nown debts, whether other people pay him or no, that man is out of the\nquestion--he is past danger, and cannot be hurt; but if he trusts beyond\nthe extent of his stock and credit, even _he_ may be overthrown too.\nThere were many sad examples of this in the time of the late war,[13]\nand in the days when the public credit was in a more precarious\ncondition that it has been since--I say, sad examples, namely, when\ntradesmen in flourishing circumstances, and who had indeed good estates\nat bottom, and were in full credit themselves, trusted the public with\ntoo great sums; which, not coming in at the time expected, either by the\ndeficiency of the funds given by parliament, and the parliament\nthemselves not soon making good those deficiencies, or by other\ndisasters of those times; I say, their money not coming in to answer\ntheir demands, they were ruined, at least their credit wounded, and some\nquite undone, who yet, had they been paid, could have paid all their own\ndebts, and had good sums of money left.\nOthers, who had ability to afford it, were obliged to sell their tallies\nand orders at forty or fifty per cent. loss; from whence proceeded that\nblack trade of buying and selling navy and victualling bills and\ntransport debts, by which the brokers and usurers got estates, and many\nthousands of tradesmen were brought to nothing; even those that stood\nit, lost great sums of money by selling their tallies: but credit cannot\nbe bought too dear; and the throwing away one half to save the other,\nwas much better than sinking under the burden; like sailors in a storm,\nwho, to lighten the ship wallowing in the trough of the sea, will throw\nthe choicest goods overboard, even to half the cargo, in order to keep\nthe ship above water, and save their lives.\nThese were terrible examples of over-trading indeed; the men were\ntempted by the high price which the government gave for their goods, and\nwhich they were obliged to give, because of the badness of the public\ncredit at that time; but this was not sufficient to make good the loss\nsustained in the sale of the tallies, so that even they that sold and\nwere able to stand without ruin, were yet great sufferers, and had\nenough to do to keep up their credit.\nThis was the effect of giving over-much credit; for though it was the\ngovernment itself which they trusted, yet neither could the government\nitself keep up the sinking credit of those whom it was indebted to; and,\nindeed, how should it, when it was not able to support its own credit?\nBut that by the way. I return to the young tradesman, whom we are now\nspeaking about.\nIt is his greatest prudence, therefore, after he has considered his own\nfund, and the stock he has to rest upon--I say, his next business is to\ntake care of his credit, and, next to limiting his buying-liberty, let\nhim be sure to limit his selling. Could the tradesman buy all upon\ncredit, and sell all for ready money, he might turn usurer, and put his\nown stock out to interest, or buy land with it, for he would have no\noccasion for one shilling of it; but since that is not expected, nor can\nbe done, it is his business to act with prudence in both parts--I mean\nof taking and giving credit--and the best rule to be given him for it\nis, never to give so much credit as he takes, by at least one-third\npart.\nBy giving credit, I do not mean, that even all the goods which he buys\nupon credit, may not be sold upon credit; perhaps they are goods which\nare usually sold so, and no otherwise; but the alternative is before him\nthus--either he must not give so much credit in quantity of goods, or\nnot so long credit in relation to time--for example:\nSuppose the young tradesman buys ten thousand pounds' value of goods on\ncredit, and this ten thousand pounds are sold for eleven thousand pounds\nlikewise on credit; if the time given be the same, the man is in a state\nof apparent destruction, and it is a hundred to one but he is blown up:\nperhaps he owes the ten thousand pounds to twenty men, perhaps the\neleven thousand pounds is owing to him by two hundred men--it is scarce\npossible that these two hundred petty customers of his, should all so\npunctually comply with their payments as to enable him to comply with\nhis; and if two or three thousand pounds fall short, the poor tradesman,\nunless he has a fund to support the deficiency, must be undone.\nBut if the man had bought ten thousand pounds at six or eight months'\ncredit, and had sold them all again as above to his two hundred\ncustomers, at three months' and four months' credit, then it might be\nsupposed all, or the greatest part of them, would have paid time enough\nto make his payments good; if not, all would be lost still.\nBut, on the other hand, suppose he had sold but three thousand pounds'\nworth of the ten for ready money, and had sold the rest for six months'\ncredit, it might be supposed that the three thousand pounds in cash, and\nwhat else the two hundred debtors might pay in time, might stop the\nmonths of the tradesman's creditors till the difference might be made\ngood.\nSo easy a thing is it for a tradesman to lose his credit in trade, and\nso hard is it, once upon such a blow, to retrieve it again. What need,\nthen, is there for the tradesman to guard himself against running too\nfar into debt, or letting other people run too far into debt to him; for\nif they do not pay him, he cannot pay others, and the next thing is a\ncommission of bankrupt, and so the tradesman may be undone, though he\nhas eleven thousand pounds to pay ten with?\nIt is true, it is not possible in a country where there is such an\ninfinite extent of trade as we see managed in this kingdom, that either\non one hand or another it can be carried on, without a reciprocal credit\nboth taken and given; but it is so nice an article, that I am of opinion\nas many tradesmen break with giving too much credit, as break with\ntaking it. The danger, indeed, is mutual, and very great. Whatever,\nthen, the young tradesman omits, let him guard against both his giving\nand taking too much credit.\nBut there are divers ways of over-trading, besides this of taking and\ngiving too much credit; and one of these is the running out into\nprojects and heavy undertakings, either out of the common road which the\ntradesman is already engaged in, or grasping at too many undertakings at\nonce, and having, as it is vulgarly expressed, too many irons in the\nfire at a time; in both which cases the tradesman is often wounded, and\nthat deeply, sometimes too deep to recover.\nThe consequences of those adventures are generally such as these: first,\nthat they stock-starve the tradesman, and impoverish him in his ordinary\nbusiness, which is the main support of his family; they lessen his\nstrength, and while his trade is not lessened, yet his stock is\nlessened; and as they very rarely add to his credit, so, if they lessen\nthe man's stock, they weaken him in the main, and he must at last faint\nunder it.\nSecondly, as they lessen his stock, so they draw from it in the most\nsensible part--they wound him in the tenderest and most nervous part,\nfor they always draw away his ready money; and what follows? The money,\nwhich was before the sinews of his business, the life of his trade,\nmaintained his shop, and kept up his credit in the full extent of it,\nbeing drawn off, like the blood let out of the veins, his trade\nlanguishes, his credit, by degrees, flags and goes off, and the\ntradesman falls under the weight.\nThus I have seen many a flourishing tradesman sensibly decay; his credit\nhas first a little suffered, then for want of that credit trade has\ndeclined--that is to say, he has been obliged to trade for less and\nless, till at last he is wasted and reduced: if he has been wise enough\nand wary enough to draw out betimes, and avoid breaking, he has yet come\nout of trade, like an old invalid soldier out of the wars, maimed,\nbruised, sick, reduced, and fitter for an hospital than a shop--such\nmiserable havoc has launching out into projects and remote undertakings\nmade among tradesmen.\nBut the safe tradesman is he, that avoiding all such remote excursions,\nkeeps close within the verge of his own affairs, minds his shop or\nwarehouse, and confining himself to what belongs to him there, goes on\nin the road of his business without launching into unknown oceans; and\ncontent with the gain of his own trade, is neither led by ambition or\navarice, and neither covets to be greater nor richer by such uncertain\nand hazardous attempts.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[12] [The keeping of a half empty shop will not suit the necessities of\ntrade in modern times. Instead of following the advice of Defoe,\ntherefore, the young tradesman is recommended to keep a sufficient stock\nof every kind of goods in which he professes to deal. A shopkeeper can\nhardly commit a greater blunder than allow himself to _be out_ of any\narticle of his trade. One of his chief duties ought to consist in\nkeeping up a _fresh stock_ of every article which there is a chance of\nbeing sought for, and, while avoiding the imprudence of keeping too\nlarge a stock of goods--which comes nearest to Defoe's meaning--it is\ncertain that, by having on hand an abundant choice, the shop gains a\nname, and has the best chance of securing a concourse of customers.]\n[13] [The war of the Spanish succession, concluded by the treaty of\nUtrecht, 1713.]\nCHAPTER VII\nOF THE TRADESMAN IN DISTRESS, AND BECOMING BANKRUPT\nIn former times it was a dismal and calamitous thing for a tradesman to\nbreak. Where it befell a family, it put all into confusion and\ndistraction; the man, in the utmost terror, fright, and distress, ran\naway with what goods he could get off, as if the house were on fire, to\nget into the Friars[14] or the Mint; the family fled, one one way, and\none another, like people in desperation; the wife to her father and\nmother, if she had any, and the children, some to one relation, some to\nanother. A statute (so they vulgarly call a commission of bankrupt) came\nand swept away all, and oftentimes consumed it too, and left little or\nnothing, either to pay the creditors or relieve the bankrupt. This made\nthe bankrupt desperate, and made him fly to those places of shelter with\nhis goods, where, hardened by the cruelty of the creditors, he chose to\nspend all the effects which should have paid the creditors, and at last\nperished in misery.\nBut now the case is altered; men make so little of breaking, that many\ntimes the family scarce removes for it. A commission of bankrupt is so\nfamiliar a thing, that the debtor oftentimes causes it to be taken out\nin his favour, that he may sooner be effectually delivered from all his\ncreditors at once, the law obliging him only to give a full account of\nhimself upon oath to the commissioners, who, when they see his\nintegrity, may effectually deliver him from all further molestation,\ngive him a part even of the creditors' estate; and so he may push into\nthe world again, and try whether he cannot retrieve his fortunes by a\nbetter management, or with better success for the future.\nSome have said, this law is too favourable to the bankrupt; that it\nmakes tradesmen careless; that they value not breaking at all, but run\non at all hazards, venturing without forecast and without consideration,\nknowing they may come off again so cheap and so easy, if they miscarry.\nBut though I cannot enter here into a long debate upon that subject, yet\nI may have room to say, that I differ from those people very much; for,\nthough the terror of the commission is in some measure abated, as\nindeed it ought to be, because it was before exorbitant and\nunreasonable, yet the terror of ruining a man's family, sinking his\nfortunes, blasting his credit, and throwing him out of business, and\ninto the worst of disgrace that a tradesman can fall into, this is not\ntaken away, or abated at all; and this, to an honest trading man, is as\nbad as all the rest ever was or could be.\nNor can a man be supposed, in the rupture of his affairs, to receive any\ncomfort, or to see through his disasters into the little relief which he\nmay, and at the same time cannot be sure he shall, receive, at the end\nof his troubles, from the mercy of the commission.\nThese are poor things, and very trifling for a tradesman to entertain\nthoughts of a breach from, especially with any prospect of satisfaction;\nnor can any tradesman with the least shadow of principle entertain any\nthought of breaking, but with the utmost aversion, and even abhorrence;\nfor the circumstances of it are attended with so many mortifications,\nand so many shocking things, contrary to all the views and expectations\nthat a tradesman can begin the world with, that he cannot think of it,\nbut as we do of the grave, with a chillness upon the blood, and a tremor\nin the spirits. Breaking is the death of a tradesman; he is mortally\nstabbed, or, as we may say, shot through the head, in his trading\ncapacity; his shop is shut up, as it is when a man is buried; his\ncredit, the life and blood of his trade, is stagnated; and his\nattendance, which was the pulse of his business, is stopped, and beats\nno more; in a word, his fame, and even name, as to trade is buried, and\nthe commissioners, that act upon him, and all their proceedings, are but\nlike the executors of the defunct, dividing the ruins of his fortune,\nand at last, his certificate is a kind of performing the obsequies for\nthe dead, and praying him out of purgatory.\nDid ever tradesman set up on purpose to break? Did ever a man build\nhimself a house on purpose to have it burnt down? I can by no means\ngrant that any tradesman, at least in his senses, can entertain the\nleast satisfaction in his trading, or abate any thing of his diligence\nin trade, from the easiness of breaking, or the abated severities of the\nbankrupt act.\nI could argue it from the nature of the act itself, which, indeed, was\nmade, and is effectual, chiefly for the relief of creditors, not\ndebtors; to secure the bankrupt's effects for the use of those to whom\nit of right belongs, and to prevent the extravagant expenses of the\ncommission, which before were such as often devoured all, ruining both\nthe bankrupt and his creditors too. This the present law has providently\nput a stop to; and the creditors now are secure in this point, that what\nis to be had, what the poor tradesman has left, they are sure to have\npreserved for, and divided among them, which, indeed, before they were\nnot. The case is so well known, and so recent in every tradesman's\nmemory, that I need not take up any more of your time about it.\nAs to the encouragements in the act for the bankrupt, they are only\nthese--namely, that, upon his honest and faithful surrender of his\naffairs, he shall be set at liberty; and if they see cause, they, the\ncreditors, may give him back a small gratification for his discovering\nhis effects, and assisting to the recovery of them; and all this, which\namounts to very little, is upon his being, as I have said, entirely\nhonest, and having run through all possible examinations and purgations,\nand that it is at the peril of his life if he prevaricates.\nAre these encouragements to tradesmen to be negligent and careless of\nthe event of things? Will any man in his wits fail in his trade, break\nhis credit, and shut up his shop, for these prospects? Or will he\ncomfort himself in case he is forced to fail--I say, will he comfort\nhimself with these little benefits, and make the matter easy to himself\non that account? He must have a very mean spirit that can do this, and\nmust act upon very mean principles in life, who can fall with\nsatisfaction, on purpose to rise no higher than this; it is like a man\ngoing to bed on purpose to rise naked, pleasing himself with the\nthoughts that, though he shall have no clothes to put on, yet he shall\nhave the liberty to get out of bed and shift for himself.\nOn these accounts, and some others, too long to mention here, I think it\nis out of doubt, that the easiness of the proceedings on commissions of\nbankrupt can be no encouragement to any tradesman to break, or so much\nas to entertain the thoughts of it, with less horror and aversion than\nhe would have done before this law was made.\nBut I must come now to speak of the tradesman in his real state of\nmortification, and under the inevitable necessity of a blow upon his\naffairs. He has had losses in his business, such as are too heavy for\nhis stock to support; he has, perhaps, launched out in trade beyond his\nreach: either he has so many bad debts, that he cannot find by his books\nhe has enough left to pay his creditors, or his debts lie out of his\nreach, and he cannot get them in, which in one respect is as bad; he has\nmore bills running against him than he knows how to pay, and creditors\ndunning him, whom it is hard for him to comply with; and this, by\ndegrees, sinks his credit.\nNow, could the poor unhappy tradesman take good advice, now would be his\ntime to prevent his utter ruin, and let his case be better or worse, his\nway is clear.\nIf it be only that he has overshot himself in trade, taken too much\ncredit, and is loaded with goods; or given too much credit, and cannot\nget his debts in; but that, upon casting up his books, he finds his\ncircumstances good at bottom, though his credit has suffered by his\neffects being out of his hands; let him endeavour to retrench, let him\ncheck his career in trade--immediately take some extraordinary measures\nto get in his debts, or some extraordinary measures, if he can, to raise\nmoney in the meantime, till those debts come in, that he may stop the\ncrowd of present demands. If this will not do, let him treat with some\nof his principal creditors, showing them a true and faithful state of\nhis affairs, and giving them the best assurances he can of payment, that\nthey may be easy with him till he can get in his debts; and then, with\nthe utmost care, draw in his trade within the due compass of his stock,\nand be sure never to run out again farther than he is able to answer,\nlet the prospect of advantage be what it will; and by this method he may\nperhaps recover his credit again, at least he may prevent his ruin. But\nthis is always supposing the man has a firm bottom, that he is sound in\nthe main, and that his stock is at least sufficient to pay all his\ndebts.\nBut the difficulty which I am proposing to speak of, is when the poor\ntradesman, distressed as above in point of credit, looking into his\naffairs, finds that his stock is diminished, or perhaps entirely\nsunk--that, in short, he has such losses and such disappointments in his\nbusiness, that he is not sound at bottom; that he has run too far, and\nthat his own stock being wasted or sunk, he has not really sufficient to\npay his debts; what is this man's business?--and what course shall he\ntake?\nI know the ordinary course with such tradesmen is this:--'It is true,'\nsays the poor man, 'I am running down, and I have lost so much in such a\nplace, and so much by such a chapman that broke, and, in short, so much,\nthat I am worse than nothing; but come, I have such a thing before me,\nor I have undertaken such a project, or I have such an adventure abroad,\nif it suceeds, I may recover again; I'll try my utmost; I'll never drown\nwhile I can swim; I'll never fall while I can stand; who knows but I may\nget over it?' In a word, the poor man is loth to come to the fatal day;\nloth to have his name in the Gazette, and see his wife and family turned\nout of doors, and the like; who can blame him? or who is not, in the\nlike case, apt to take the like measures?--for it is natural to us all\nto put the evil day far from us, at least to put it as far off as we\ncan. Though the criminal believes he shall be executed at last, yet he\naccepts of every reprieve, as it puts him within the possibility of an\nescape, and that as long as there is life there is hope; but at last the\ndead warrant comes down, then he sees death unavoidable, and gives\nhimself up to despair.\nIndeed, the malefactor was in the right to accept, as I say, of every\nreprieve, but it is quite otherwise in the tradesman's case; and if I\nmay give him a rule, safe, and in its end comfortable, in proportion to\nhis circumstances, but, to be sure, out of question, just, honest, and\nprudent, it is this:--\nWhen he perceives his case as above, and knows that if his new\nadventures or projects should fail, he cannot by any means stand or\nsupport himself, I not only give it as my advice to all tradesmen, as\ntheir interest, but insist upon it, as they are honest men, they should\nbreak, that is, stop in time: fear not to do that which necessity\nobliges you to do; but, above all, fear not to do that early, which, if\nomitted, necessity will oblige you to do late.\nFirst, let me argue upon the honesty of it, and next upon the prudence\nof it. Certainly, honesty obliges every man, when he sees that his stock\nis gone, that he is below the level, and eating into the estate of other\nmen, to put a stop to it, and to do it in time, while something is left.\nIt has been a fault, without doubt, to break in upon other men's estates\nat all; but perhaps a plea may be made that it was ignorantly done, and\nthey did not think they were run so far as to be worse than nothing; or\nsome sudden disaster may have occasioned it, which they did not expect,\nand, it may be, could not foresee; both which may indeed happen to a\ntradesman, though the former can hardly happen without his fault,\nbecause he ought to be always acquainting himself with his books,\nstating his expenses and his profits, and casting things up frequently,\nat least in his head, so as always to know whether he goes backward or\nforward. The latter, namely, sudden disaster, may happen so to any\ntradesman as that he may be undone, and it may not be his fault; for\nruin sometimes falls as suddenly as unavoidably upon a tradesman, though\nthere are but very few incidents of that kind which may not be accounted\nfor in such a manner as to charge it upon his prudence.\nSome cases may indeed happen, some disasters may befall a tradesman,\nwhich it was not possible he should foresee, as fire, floods of water,\nthieves, and many such--and in those cases the disaster is visible, the\nplea is open, every body allows it, the man can have no blame. A\nprodigious tide from the sea, joined with a great fresh or flood in the\nriver Dee, destroyed the new wharf below the Roodee at West Chester, and\ntore down the merchants' warehouses there, and drove away not only all\nthe goods, but even the buildings and altogether, into the sea. Now, if\na poor shopkeeper in Chester had a large parcel of goods lying there,\nperhaps newly landed in order to be brought up to the city, but were all\nswept away, if, I say, the poor tradesman were ruined by the loss of\nthose goods on that occasion, the creditors would see reason in it that\nthey should every one take a share in the loss; the tradesman was not to\nblame.\nLikewise in the distress of the late fire which began in Thames Street,\nnear Bear Quay, a grocer might have had a quantity of goods in a\nwarehouse thereabouts, or his shop might be there, and the goods perhaps\nmight be sugars, or currants, or tobacco, or any other goods in his\nway, which could not be easily removed; this fire was a surprise, it was\na blast of powder, it was at noonday, when no person coud foresee it.\nThe man may have been undone and be in no fault himself, one way or\nother; no man can reasonably say to him, why did you keep so many goods\nupon your hands, or in such a place? for it was his proper business both\nto have a stock of goods, and to have them in such a place; every thing\nwas in the right position, and in the order which the nature of his\ntrade required.\nOn the other hand, if it was the breaking of a particular chapman, or an\nadventure by sea, the creditors would perhaps reflect on his prudence;\nwhy should any man trust a single chapman so much, or adventure so much\nin one single bottom, and uninsured, as that the loss of it would be his\nundoing?\nBut there are other cases, however, which may happen to a tradesman, and\nby which he may be at once reduced below his proper stock, and have\nnothing left to trade on but his credit, that is to say, the estates of\nhis creditors. In such a case, I question whether it can be honest for\nany man to continue trading; for, first, it is making his creditors run\nan unjust hazard, without their consent; indeed, if he discovers his\ncondition to one or two of them, who are men of capital stocks, and will\nsupport him, they giving him leave to pay others off, and go on at their\nrisks, that alters the case; or if he has a ready money trade, that will\napparently raise him again, and he runs no more hazards, but is sure he\nshall at least run out no farther; in these two cases, and I do not know\nanother, he may with honesty continue.\nOn the contrary, when he sees himself evidently running out, and\ndeclining, and has only a shift here and a shift there, to lay hold on,\nas sinking men generally do; and knows, that unless something\nextraordinary happen, which, perhaps, also is not probable, he must\nfall, for such a man to go on, and trade in the ordinary way,\nnotwithstanding losses, and hazards--in such a case, I affirm, he cannot\nact the honest man, he cannot go on with justice to his creditors, or\nhis family; he ought to call his creditors together, lay his\ncircumstances honestly before them, and pay as far as it will go. If his\ncreditors will do any thing generously for him, to enable him to go on\nagain, well and good, but he cannot honestly oblige them to run the risk\nof his unfortunate progress, and to venture their estates on his bottom,\nafter his bottom is really nothing at all but their money.\nBut I pass from the honesty to the prudence of it--from what regards his\ncreditors, to what regards himself--and I affirm, nothing can be more\nimprudent and impolite, as it regards himself and his family, than to go\non after he sees his circumstances irrecoverable. If he has any\nconsideration for himself, or his future happiness, he will stop in\ntime, and not be afraid of meeting the mischief which he sees follows\ntoo fast for him to escape; be not so afraid of breaking, as not to\nbreak till necessity forces you, and that you have nothing left. In a\nword, I speak it to every declining tradesman, if you love yourself,\nyour family, or your reputation, and would ever hope to look the world\nin the face again, _break_ in time.\nBy breaking in time you will first obtain the character of an honest,\nthough unfortunate man; it is owing to the contrary course, which is\nindeed the ordinary practice of tradesmen, namely, not to break till\nthey run the bottom quite out, and have little or nothing left to pay; I\nsay, it is owing to this, that some people think all men that break are\nknaves. The censure, it is true, is unjust, but the cause is owing to\nthe indiscretion, to call it no worse, of the poor tradesmen, who\nputting the mischief as far from them as they can, trade on to the last\ngasp, till a throng of creditors coming on them together, or being\narrested, and not able to get bail, or by some such public blow to their\ncredit, they are brought to a stop or breach of course, like a man\nfighting to the last gasp who is knocked down, and laid on the ground,\nand then his resistance is at an end; for indeed a tradesman pushing on\nunder irresistable misfortunes is but fighting with the world to the\nlast drop, and with such unequal odds, that like the soldier surrounded\nwith enemies, he must be killed; so the debtor must sink, it cannot be\nprevented.\nIt is true, also, the man that thus struggles to the last, brings upon\nhim an universal reproach, and a censure, that is not only unavoidable,\nbut just, which is worse; but when a man breaks in time, he may hold up\nhis face to his creditors, and tell them, that he could have gone on a\nconsiderable while longer, but that he should have had less left to pay\nthem with, and that he has chosen to stop while he may be able to give\nthem so considerable a sum as may convince them of his integrity.\nWe have a great clamour among us of the cruelty of creditors, and it is\na popular clamour, that goes a great way with some people; but let them\ntell us when ever creditors were cruel, when the debtor came thus to\nthem with fifteen shillings in the pound in his offer. Perhaps when the\ndebtor has run to the utmost, and there appears to be little or nothing\nleft, he has been used roughly; and it is enough to provoke a creditor,\nindeed, to be offered a shilling or half-a-crown in the pound for a\nlarge debt, when, had the debtor been honest, and broke in time, he\nmight have received perhaps two-thirds of his debt, and the debtor been\nin better condition too.\nBreak then in time, young tradesman, if you see you are going down, and\nthat the hazard of going on is doubtful; you will certainly be received\nby your creditors with compassion, and with a generous treatment; and,\nwhatever happens, you will be able to begin the world again with the\ntitle of an honest man--even the same creditors will embark with you\nagain, and be more forward to give you credit than before.\nIt is true, most tradesmen that break merit the name of knave or\ndishonest man, but it is not so with all; the reason of the difference\nlies chiefly in the manner of their breaking--namely, whether sooner or\nlater. It is possible, he may be an honest man who cannot, but he can\nnever be honest that can, and will not pay his debts. Now he, that,\nbeing able to pay fifteen shillings in the pound, will struggle on till\nhe sees he shall not be able to pay half-a-crown in the pound, this man\nwas able to pay, but would not, and, therefore, as above, cannot be an\nhonest man.\nIn the next place, what shall we say to the peace and satisfaction of\nmind in breaking, which the tradesman will always have when he acts the\nhonest part, and breaks betimes, compared to that guilt and chagrin of\nthe mind, occasioned by a running on, as I said, to the last gasp, when\nthey have little to pay? Then, indeed, the tradesman can expect no\nquarter from his creditors, and will have no quiet in himself.\nI might instance here the miserable, anxious, perplexed life, which the\npoor tradesman lives under; the distresses and extremities of his\ndeclining state; how harassed and tormented for money; what shifts he is\ndriven to for supporting himself; how many little, mean, and even wicked\nthings, will even the religious tradesman stoop to in his distress, to\ndeliver himself--even such things as his very soul would abhor at\nanother time, and for which he goes perhaps with a wounded conscience\nall his life after!\nBy giving up early, all this, which is the most dreadful part of all the\nrest, would be prevented. I have heard many an honest unfortunate man\nconfess this, and repent, even with tears, that they had not learned to\ndespair in trade some years sooner than they did, by which they had\navoided falling into many foul and foolish actions, which they\nafterwards had been driven to by the extremity of their affairs.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[14] [Whitefriars, in the neighbourhood of the Temple, London. This and\nthe Mint were sanctuaries for debtors.]\nCHAPTER VIII\nTHE ORDINARY OCCASIONS OF THE RUIN OF TRADESMEN\nSince I have given advice to tradesmen, when they fell into\ndifficulties, and find they are run behind-hand, to break in time,\nbefore they run on too far, and thereby prevent the consequences of a\nfatal running on to extremity, it is but just I should give them some\nneedful directions, to avoid, if possible, breaking at all.\nIn order to this, I will briefly inquire what are the ordinary originals\nof a tradesman's ruin in business. To say it is negligence, when I have\nalready pressed to a close application and diligence; that it is\nlaunching into, and grasping at, more business than their stock, or,\nperhaps, their understandings, are able to manage, when I have already\nspoken of the fatal consequences of over-trading; to say it is trusting\ncarelessly people unable to pay, and running too rashly into debt, when\nI have already spoken of taking and giving too much credit--this would\nall be but saying the same thing over again--and I am too full of\nparticulars, in this important case, to have any need of tautologies and\nrepetitions; but there are a great many ways by which tradesmen\nprecipitate themselves into ruin besides those, and some that need\nexplaining and enlarging upon.\n1. Some, especially retailers, ruin themselves by fixing their shops in\nsuch places as are improper for their business. In most towns, but\nparticularly in the city of London, there are places as it were\nappropriated to particular trades, and where the trades which are placed\nthere succeed very well, but would do very ill any where else, or any\nother trades in the same places; as the orange-merchants and wet-salters\nabout Billingsgate, and in Thames Street; the coster-mongers at the\nThree Cranes; the wholesale cheesemongers in Thames Street; the mercers\nand drapers in the high streets, such as Cheapside, Ludgate Street,\nCornhill, Round Court, and Grace-church Street, &c.\nPray what would a bookseller make of his business at Billingsgate, or a\nmercer in Tower Street, or near the Custom-house, or a draper in Thames\nStreet, or about Queen-hithe? Many trades have their peculiar streets,\nand proper places for the sale of their goods, where people expect to\nfind such shops, and consequently, when they want such goods, they go\nthither for them; as the booksellers in St Paul's churchyard, about the\nExchange, Temple, and the Strand, &c., the mercers on both sides\nLudgate, in Round Court, and Grace-church and Lombard Streets; the\nshoemakers in St Martins le Grand, and Shoemaker Row; the coach-makers\nin Long-acre, Queen Street, and Bishopsgate; butchers in Eastcheap; and\nsuch like.\nFor a tradesman to open his shop in a place unresorted to, or in a place\nwhere his trade is not agreeable, and where it is not expected, it is no\nwonder if he has no trade. What retail trade would a milliner have among\nthe fishmongers' shops on Fishstreet-hill, or a toyman about\nQueen-hithe? When a shop is ill chosen, the tradesman starves; he is out\nof the way, and business will not follow him that runs away from it:\nsuppose a ship-chandler should set up in Holborn, or a block-maker in\nWhitecross Street, an anchor-smith at Moorgate, or a coachmaker in\nRedriff, and the like!\nIt is true, we have seen a kind of fate attend the very streets and rows\nwhere such trades have been gathered together; and a street, famous some\nyears ago, shall, in a few years after, be quite forsaken; as\nPaternoster Row for mercers, St Paul's Churchyard for woollen-drapers;\nboth the Eastcheaps for butchers; and now you see hardly any of those\ntrades left in those places.\nI mention it for this reason, and this makes it to my purpose in an\nextraordinary manner, that whenever the principal shopkeepers remove\nfrom such a street, or settled place, where the principal trade used to\nbe, the rest soon follow--knowing, that if the fame of the trade is not\nthere, the customers will not resort thither: and that a tradesman's\nbusiness is to follow wherever the trade leads. For a mercer to set up\nnow in Paternoster Row, or a woollen-draper in St Paul's Churchyard, the\none among the sempstresses, and the other among the chair-makers, would\nbe the same thing as for a country shopkeeper not to set up in or near\nthe market-place.[15]\nThe place, therefore, is to be prudently chosen by the retailer, when he\nfirst begins his business, that he may put himself in the way of\nbusiness; and then, with God's blessing, and his own care, he may expect\nhis share of trade with his neighbours.\n2. He must take an especial care to have his shop not so much crowded\nwith a large bulk of goods, as with a well-sorted and well-chosen\nquantity proper for his business, and to give credit to his beginning.\nIn order to this, his buying part requires not only a good judgment in\nthe wares he is to deal in, but a perfect government of his judgment by\nhis understanding to suit and sort his quantities and proportions, as\nwell to his shop as to the particular place where his shop is situated;\nfor example, a particular trade is not only proper for such or such a\npart of the town, but a particular assortment of goods, even in the same\nway, suits one part of the town, or one town and not another; as he that\nsets up in the Strand, or near the Exchange, is likely to sell more rich\nsilks, more fine Hollands, more fine broad-cloths, more fine toys and\ntrinkets, than one of the same trade setting up in the skirts of the\ntown, or at Ratcliff, or Wapping, or Redriff; and he that sets up in the\ncapital city of a county, than he that is placed in a private\nmarket-town, in the same county; and he that is placed in a market-town,\nthan he that is placed in a country village. A tradesman in a seaport\ntown sorts himself different from one of the same trade in an inland\ntown, though larger and more populous; and this the tradesman must weigh\nvery maturely before he lays out his stock.\nSometimes it happens a tradesman serves his apprenticeship in one town,\nand sets up in another; and sometimes circumstances altering, he removes\nfrom one town to another; the change is very important to him, for the\ngoods, which he is to sell in the town he removes to, are sometimes so\ndifferent from the sorts of goods which he sold in the place he removed\nfrom, though in the same way of trade, that he is at a great loss both\nin changing his hand, and in the judgment of buying. This made me\ninsist, in a former chapter, that a tradesman should take all occasions\nto extend his knowledge in every kind of goods, that which way soever he\nmay turn his hand, he may have judgment in every thing.\nIn thus changing his circumstances of trade, he must learn, as well as\nhe can, how to furnish his shop suitable to the place he is to trade in,\nand to sort his goods to the demand which he is like to have there;\notherwise he will not only lose the customers for want of proper goods,\nbut will very much lose by the goods which he lays in for sale, there\nbeing no demand for them where he is going.\nWhen merchants send adventures to our British colonies, it is usual with\nthem to make up to each factor what they call a _sortable cargo_; that\nis to say, they want something of every thing that may furnish the\ntradesmen there with parcels fit to fill their shops, and invite their\ncustomers; and if they fail, and do not thus sort their cargoes, the\nfactors there not only complain, as being ill sorted, but the cargo lies\nby unsold, because there is not a sufficient quantity of sorts to answer\nthe demand, and make them all marketable together.\nIt is the same thing here: if the tradesman's shop is not well sorted,\nit is not suitably furnished, or fitted to supply his customers; and\nnothing dishonours him more than to have people come to buy things usual\nto be had in such shops, and go away without them. The next thing they\nsay to one another is, 'I went to that shop, but I could not be\nfurnished; they are not stocked there for a trade; one seldom finds any\nthing there that is new or fashionable:' and so they go away to another\nshop; and not only go away themselves, but carry others away with\nthem--for it is observable, that the buyers or retail customers,\nespecially the ladies, follow one another as sheep follow the flock; and\nif one buys a beautiful silk, or a cheap piece of Holland, or a\nnew-fashioned thing of any kind, the next inquiry is, where it was\nbought; and the shop is presently recommended for a shop well sorted,\nand for a place where things are to be had not only cheap and good, but\nof the newest fashion, and where they have always great choice to please\nthe curious, and to supply whatever is called for. And thus the trade\nruns away insensibly to the shops which are best sorted.\n3. The retail tradesman in especial, but even every tradesman in his\nstation, must furnish himself with a competent stock of patience; I\nmean, that patience which is needful to bear with all sorts of\nimpertinence, and the most provoking curiosity, that it is possible to\nimagine the buyers, even the worst of them, are or can be guilty of. A\ntradesman behind his counter must have no flesh and blood about him, no\npassions, no resentment. He must never be angry; no, not so much as seem\nto be so. If a customer tumbles him five hundred pounds' worth of goods,\nand scarce bids money for any thing--nay, though they really come to his\nshop with no intent to buy, as many do, only to see what is to be sold,\nand if they cannot be better pleased than they are at some other shop\nwhere they intend to buy, it is all one, the tradesman must take it, and\nplace it to the account of his calling, that it is his business to be\nill used, and resent nothing; and so must answer as obligingly to those\nthat give him an hour or two's trouble and buy nothing, as he does to\nthose who in half the time lay out ten or twenty pounds. The case is\nplain: it is his business to get money, to sell and please; and if some\ndo give him trouble and do not buy, others make him amends, and do buy;\nand as for the trouble, it is the business of his shop.\nI have heard that some ladies, and those, too, persons of good note,\nhave taken their coaches and spent a whole afternoon in Ludgate Street\nor Covent Garden, only to divert themselves in going from one mercer's\nshop to another, to look upon their fine silks, and to rattle and banter\nthe journeymen and shopkeepers, and have not so much as the least\noccasion, much less intention, to buy any thing; nay, not so much as\ncarrying any money out with them to buy anything if they fancied it: yet\nthis the mercers who understand themselves know their business too well\nto resent; nor if they really knew it, would they take the least notice\nof it, but perhaps tell the ladies they were welcome to look upon their\ngoods; that it was their business to show them; and that if they did not\ncome to buy now, they might perhaps see they were furnished to please\nthem when they might have occasion.\nOn the other hand, I have been told that sometimes those sorts of\nladies have been caught in their own snare; that is to say, have been so\nengaged by the good usage of the shopkeeper, and so unexpectedly\nsurprised with some fine thing or other that has been shown them, that\nthey have been drawn in by their fancy against their design, to lay out\nmoney, whether they had it or no; that is to say, to buy, and send home\nfor money to pay for it.\nBut let it be how and which way it will, whether mercer or draper, or\nwhat trade you please, the man that stands behind the counter must be\nall courtesy, civility, and good manners; he must not be affronted, or\nany way moved, by any manner of usage, whether owing to casualty or\ndesign; if he sees himself ill used, he must wink, and not see it--he\nmust at least not appear to see it, nor any way show dislike or\ndistaste; if he does, he reproaches not only himself but his shop, and\nputs an ill name upon the general usuage of customers in it; and it is\nnot to be imagined how, in this gossiping, tea-drinking age, the scandal\nwill run, even among people who have had no knowledge of the person\nfirst complaining. 'Such a shop!' says a certain lady to a citizen's\nwife in conversation, as they were going to buy clothes; 'I am resolved\nI won't go to it; the fellow that keeps it is saucy and rude: if I lay\nout my money, I expect to be well used; if I don't lay it out, I expect\nto be well treated.'\n'Why, Madam,' says the citizen, 'did the man of the shop use your\nladyship ill?'\n_Lady_.--No, I can't say he used me ill, for I never was in his shop.\n_Cit._--How does your ladyship know he does so then?\n_Lady_.--Why, I know he used another lady saucily, because she gave him\na great deal of trouble, as he called it, and did not buy.\n_Cit._--Was it the lady that told you so herself, Madam?\n_Lady_.--I don't know, really, I have forgot who it was; but I have such\na notion in my head, and I don't care to try, for I hate the sauciness\nof shopkeepers when they don't understand themselves.\n_Cit._--Well; but, Madam, perhaps it may be a mistake--and the lady that\ntold you was not the person neither?\n_Lady_.--Oh, Madam, I remember now who told me; it was my Lady Tattle,\nwhen I was at Mrs Whymsy's on a visiting day; it was the talk of the\nwhole circle, and all the ladies took notice of it, and said they would\ntake care to shun that shop.\n_Cit._--Sure, Madam, the lady was strangely used; did she tell any of the\nparticulars?\n_Lady_.--No; I did not understand that she told the particulars, for it\nseems it was not to her, but to some other lady, a friend of hers; but\nit was all one; the company took as much notice of it as if it had been\nto her, and resented it as much, I assure you.\n_Cit._--Yet, and without examining the truth of the fact.\n_Lady_.--We did not doubt the story.\n_Cit._--But had no other proof of it, Madam, than her relation?\n_Lady_.--Why, that's true; nobody asked for a proof; it was enough to\ntell the story.\n_Cit._--What! though perhaps the lady did not know the person, or\nwhether it was true or no, and perhaps had it from a third or fourth\nhand--your ladyship knows any body's credit may be blasted at that rate.\n_Lady_.--We don't inquire so nicely, you know, into the truth of stories\nat a tea-table.\n_Cit._--No, Madam, that's true; but when reputation is at stake, we\nshould be a little careful too.\n_Lady_.--Why, that's true too. But why are you so concerned about it,\nMadam? do you know the man that keeps the shop?\n_Cit._--No otherwise, Madam, than that I have often bought there, and I\nalways found them the most civil, obliging people in the world.\n_Lady_.--It may be they know you, Madam.\n_Cit._--I am persuaded they don't, for I seldom went but I saw new\nfaces, for they have a great many servants and journeymen in the shop.\n_Lady_.--It may be you are easy to be pleased; you are good-humoured\nyourself, and cannot put their patience to any trial.\n_Cit._--Indeed, Madam, just the contrary; I believe I made them tumble\ntwo or three hundred pounds' worth of goods one day, and bought nothing;\nand yet it was all one; they used me as well as if I had laid out twenty\npounds.\n_Lady_.--Why, so they ought.\n_Cit._--Yes, Madam, but then it is a token they do as they ought, and\nunderstand themselves.\n_Lady_.--Well, I don't know much of it indeed, but thus I was told.\n_Cit._--Well, but if your ladyship would know the truth of it, you would\ndo a piece of justice to go and try them.\n_Lady_.--Not I; besides, I have a mercer of my acquaintance.\n_Cit._--Well, Madam, I'll wait on your ladyship to your own mercer, and\nif you can't find any thing to your liking, will you go and try the\nother shop?\n_Lady_.--Oh! I am sure I shall deal if I go to my mercer.\n_Cit._--Well, but if you should, let us go for a frolic, and give the\nother as much trouble as we can for nothing, and see how he'll behave,\nfor I want to be satisfied; if I find them as your ladyship has been\ntold, I'll never go there any more.\n_Lady_.--Upon that condition I agree--I will go with you; but I will go\nand lay out my money at my own mercer's first, because I wont be\ntempted.\n_Cit._--Well, Madam, I'll wait on your ladyship till you have laid out\nyour money.\nAfter this discourse they drove away to the mercer's shop where the lady\nused to buy; and when they came there, the lady was surprised--the shop\nwas shut up, and nobody to be seen. The next door was a laceman's, and\nthe journeyman being at the door, the lady sent her servant to desire\nhim to speak a word or two to her; and when he came, says the lady to\nhim,\nPray, how long has Mr--'s shop been shut up?\n_Laceman_.--About a month, madam.\n_Lady_.--What! is Mr--dead?\n_Laceman_.--No, madam, he is not dead.\n_Lady_.--What then, pray?\n_Laceman_.--Something worse, madam; he has had some misfortunes.\n_Lady_.--I am very sorry to hear it, indeed. So her ladyship made her\nbow, and her coachman drove away.\nThe short of the story was, her mercer was broke; upon which the city\nlady prevailed upon her ladyship to go to the other shop, which she did,\nbut declared beforehand she would buy nothing, but give the mercer all\nthe trouble she could; and so said the other. And to make the thing more\nsure, she would have them go into the shop single, because she fancied\nthe mercer knew the city lady, and therefore would behave more civilly\nto them both on that account, the other having laid out her money there\nseveral times. Well, they went in, and the lady asked for such and such\nrich things, and had them shown her, to a variety that she was surprised\nat; but not the best or richest things they could show her gave her any\nsatisfaction--either she did not like the pattern, or the colours did\nnot suit her fancy, or they were too dear; and so she prepares to leave\nthe shop, her coach standing at a distance, which she ordered, that they\nmight not guess at her quality.\nBut she was quite deceived in her expectation; for the mercer, far from\ntreating her in the manner as she had heard, used her with the utmost\ncivility and good manners. She treated him, on the contrary, as she said\nherself, even with a forced rudeness; she gave him all the impertinent\ntrouble she was able, as above; and, pretending to like nothing he\nshowed, turned away with an air of contempt, intimating that his shop\nwas ill furnished, and that she should be easily served, she doubted\nnot, at another.\nHe told her he was very unhappy in not having any thing that suited her\nfancy--that, if she knew what particular things would please her, he\nwould have them in two hours' time for her, if all the French and\nItalian merchants' warehouses in London, or all the weavers' looms in\nSpitalfields, could furnish them. But when that would not do, she comes\nforward from his back shop, where she had plagued him about an hour and\na half; and makes him the slight compliment of (in a kind of a scornful\ntone too), 'I am sorry I have given you so much trouble.'\n'The trouble, madam, is nothing; it is my misfortune not to please you;\nbut, as to trouble, my business is to oblige the ladies, my customers;\nif I show my goods, I may sell them; if I do not show them, I cannot; if\nit is not a trouble to you, I'll show you every piece of goods in my\nshop; if you do not buy now, you may perhaps buy another time.' And\nthus, in short, he pursued her with all the good words in the world, and\nwaited on her towards the door.\nAs she comes forward, there she spied the city lady, who had just used\nthe partner as the lady had used the chief master; and there, as if it\nhad been by mere chance, she salutes her with, 'Your servant, cousin;\npray, what brought you here?' The cousin answers, 'Madam, I am mighty\nglad to see your ladyship here; I have been haggling here a good while,\nbut this gentleman and I cannot bargain, and I was just going away.'\n'Why, then,' says the lady, 'you have been just such another customer as\nI, for I have troubled the gentleman mercer this two hours, and I cannot\nmeet with any thing to my mind.' So away they go together to the door;\nand the lady gets the mercer to send one of his servants to bid her\ncoachman drive to the door, showing him where the fellow stood.\nWhile the boy was gone, she takes the city lady aside, and talking\nsoftly, the mercer and his partner, seeing them talk together, withdrew,\nbut waited at a distance to be ready to hand them to the coach. So they\nbegan a new discourse, as follows:--\n_Lady_.--Well, I am satisfied this man has been ill used in the world.\n_Cit._--Why, Madam, how does your ladyship find him?\n_Lady_.--Only the most obliging, most gentleman-like man of a tradesman\nthat ever I met with in my life.\n_Cit._--But did your ladyship try him as you said you would?\n_Lady_.--Try him! I believe he has tumbled three thousand pounds' worth\nof goods for me.\n_Cit._--Did you oblige him to do so?\n_Lady_.--I forced him to it, indeed, for I liked nothing.\n_Cit._--Is he well stocked with goods?\n_Lady_.--I told him his shop was ill furnished.\n_Cit._--What did he say to that?\n_Lady_.--Say! why he carried me into another inner shop, or warehouse,\nwhere he had goods to a surprising quantity and value, I confess.\n_Cit._--And what could you say, then?\n_Lady_.--Say! in truth I was ashamed to say any more, but still was\nresolved not to be pleased, and so came away, as you see.\n_Cit._--And he has not disobliged you at all, has he?\n_Lady_.--Just the contrary, indeed. (Here she repeated the words the\nmercer had said to her, and the modesty and civility he had treated her\nwith.)\n_Cit._--Well, Madam, I assure you I have been faithful to my promise,\nfor you cannot have used him so ill as I have used his partner--for I\nhave perfectly abused him for having nothing to please me--I did as good\nas tell him I believed he was going to break, and that he had no choice.\n_Lady_.--And how did he treat you?\n_Cit._-Just in the same manner as his partner did your ladyship, all\nmild and mannerly, smiling, and in perfect temper; for my part, if I was\na young wench again, I should be in love with such a man.\n_Lady_.--Well, but what shall we do now?\n_Cit._--Why, be gone. I think we have teazed them enough; it would be\ncruel to bear-bait them any more.\n_Lady_.--No, I am not for teazing them any more; but shall we really go\naway, and buy nothing?\n_Cit._--Nay, that shall be just as your ladyship pleases--you know I\npromised you I would not buy; that is to say, unless you discharge me of\nthat obligation.\n_Lady_.--I cannot, for shame, go out of this shop, and lay out nothing.\n_Cit._--Did your ladyship see any thing that pleased you?\n_Lady_.--I only saw some of the finest things in England--I don't think\nall the city of Paris can outdo him.\n_Cit._--Well, madam, if you resolve to buy, let us go and look again.\n_Lady_.--'Come, then.' And upon that the lady, turning to the\nmercer--'Come, sir,' says she, 'I think I will look upon that piece of\nbrocade again; I cannot find in my heart to give you all this trouble\nfor nothing.'\n'Madam,' says the mercer, 'I shall be very glad if I can be so happy as\nto please you; but, I beseech your ladyship, don't speak of the trouble,\nfor that is the duty of our trade; we must never think our business a\ntrouble.'\nUpon this the ladies went back with him into his inner shop, and laid\nout between sixty and seventy pounds, for they both bought rich suits of\nclothes, and used his shop for many years after.\nThe short inference from this long discourse is this: That here you see,\nand I could give many examples very like this, how, and in what manner,\na shopkeeper is to behave himself in the way of his business--what\nimpertinences, what taunts, flouts, and ridiculous things, he must bear\nin his business, and must not show the least return, or the least\nsignal of disgust--he must have no passions, no fire in his temper--he\nmust be all soft and smooth: nay, if his real temper be naturally fiery\nand hot, he must show none of it in his shop--he must be a perfect\ncomplete hypocrite, if he will be a complete tradesman.[16]\nIt is true, natural tempers are not to be always counterfeited--the man\ncannot easily be a lamb in his shop, and a lion in himself; but let it\nbe easy or hard, it must be done, and it is done. There are men who\nhave, by custom and usage, brought themselves to it, that nothing could\nbe meeker and milder than they, when behind the counter, and yet nothing\nbe more furious and raging in every other part of life--nay, the\nprovocations they have met with in their shops have so irritated their\nrage, that they would go upstairs from their shop, and fall into\nphrensies, and a kind of madness, and beat their heads against the wall,\nand mischief themselves, if not prevented, till the violence of it had\ngotten vent, and the passions abate and cool. Nay, I heard once of a\nshopkeeper that behaved himself thus to such an extreme, that, when he\nwas provoked by the impertinence of the customers, beyond what his\ntemper could bear, he would go upstairs and beat his wife, kick his\nchildren about like dogs, and be as furious for two or three minutes as\na man chained down in Bedlam, and when the heat was over, would sit down\nand cry faster then the children he had abused; and after the fit was\nover he would go down into his shop again, and be as humble, as\ncourteous, and as calm as any man whatever--so absolute a government of\nhis passions had he in the shop, and so little out of it; in the shop a\nsoul-less animal that can resent nothing, and in the family a madman; in\nthe shop meek like the lamb, but in the family outrageous like a Lybian\nlion.\nThe sum of the matter is this: it is necessary for a tradesman to\nsubject himself, by all the ways possible, to his business; his\ncustomers are to be his idols: so far as he may worship idols by\nallowance, he is to bow down to them and worship them;[17] at least, he\nis not any way to displease them, or show any disgust or distaste at any\nthing they say or do. The bottom of it all is, that he is intending to\nget money by them; and it is not for him that gets money by them to\noffer the least inconvenience to them by whom he gets it; but he is to\nconsider, that, as Solomon says, 'The borrower is servant to the\nlender,' so the seller is servant to the buyer.\nWhen a tradesman has thus conquered all his passions, and can stand\nbefore the storm of impertinence, he is said to be fitted up for the\nmain article, namely, the inside of the counter.\nOn the other hand, we see that the contrary temper, nay, but the very\nsuggestion of it, hurries people on to ruin their trade, to disoblige\nthe customers, to quarrel with them, and drive them away. We see by the\nlady above, after having seen the ways she had taken to put this man out\nof temper--I say, we see it conquered her temper, and brought her to lay\nout her money cheerfully, and be his customer ever after.\nA sour, morose, dogmatic temper would have sent these ladies both away\nwith their money in their pockets; but the man's patience and temper\ndrove the lady back to lay out her money, and engaged her entirely.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[15] Paternoster Row has long been the chief seat of the bookselling and\npublishing trade in London; and there are now some splendid shops of\nmercers or haberdashers in St Paul's Churchyard, also in Ludgate hill\nadjoining.\n[16] [The necessity here insisted on seems a hard one, and scarcely\nconsistent with a just morality. Yet, if the tradesman takes a right\nview of his situation, he will scarcely doubt the propriety of Defoe's\nadvice. He must consider, that, in his shop, he is, as it were, acting a\npart. He performs a certain character in the drama of our social\narrangements, one which requires all the civility and forbearance above\ninsisted on. He is not called upon, in such circumstances, to feel,\nspeak, and act, as he would find himself in honour required to do in his\nprivate or absolutely personal capacity--in his own house, for instance,\nor in any public place where he mingled on a footing of equality with\nhis fellow-citizens. Accordingly, there is such a general sense of the\njustifiableness of his conducting himself in this submissive spirit,\nthat no one would think of imputing it to him as a fault; but he would\nbe more apt to be censured or ridiculed if he had so little sense as to\ntake offence, in his capacity of tradesman, at any thing which it would\nonly concern him to resent if it were offered to him in his capacity as\na private citizen.\nAn incident, somewhat like that so dramatically related by Defoe,\noccurred a few years ago in the northern capital. A lady had, through\nwhim, pestered a mercer in the manner related in the text, turning over\nall his goods, and only treating him with rudeness in return. When she\nfinally turned to leave the shop, to inquire, as she said, for better\nand cheaper goods elsewhere, she found that a shower was falling,\nagainst which she had no protection. The tradesman, who had politely\nshown her to the door, observing her hesitate on the threshold at sight\nof the rain, requested her to wait a moment, and, stepping backwards for\nhis umbrella, instantly returned, and, in the kindest accents, requested\nher to accept the loan of it. She took it, and went away, but in a few\nminutes returned it, in a totally different frame of spirit, and not\nonly purchased extensively on this occasion, but became a constant\ncustomer for the future.\nAnother tradesman in the same city was so remarkable for his\nimperturbable civility, that it became the subject of a bet--an\nindividual undertaking to irritate him, or, if he failed, to forfeit a\ncertain sum. He went to the shop, and caused an immense quantity of the\nfinest silks to be turned over, after which he coolly asked for a\npennyworth of a certain splendid piece of satin. 'By all means,' said\nthe discreet trader; 'allow me, Sir, to have your penny.' The coin was\nhanded to him, and, taking up the piece of satin, and placing the penny\non the end of it, he cut round with his scissors, thus detaching a\nlittle bit of exactly the size and shape of the piece of money which was\nto purchase it. This, with the most polite air imaginable, he handed to\nhis customer, whose confusion may be imagined.]\n[17] [It appears to the editor that the case is here somewhat\nover-stated. While imperterbable good temper and civility are\nindispensible in the shopkeeper, it is not impossible that he may also\nerr in displaying a _too great obsequiousness_ of _manner_. This, by\ndisgusting the common sense and good taste of customers, may do as much\nharm as want of civility. A too _pressing_ manner, likewise, does harm,\nby causing the customer to feel as if he were _obliged_ to purchase. The\nmedium of an easy, obliging, and good-humoured manner, is perhaps what\nsuits best. But here, as in many other things, it is not easy to lay\ndown any general rule. Much must be left to the goos sense and _tact_ of\nthe trader.]\nCHAPTER IX\nOF OTHER REASONS FOR THE TRADESMAN'S DISASTERS: AND, FIRST, OF INNOCENT\nDIVERSIONS\nA few directions seasonably given, and wisely received, will be\nsufficient to guide a tradesman in a right management of his business,\nso as that, if he observes them, he may secure his prosperity and\nsuccess: but it requires a long and serious caveat to warn him of the\ndangers he meets with in his way. Trade is a straight and direct way, if\nthey will but keep in it with a steady foot, and not wander, and launch\nout here and there, as a loose head and giddy fancy will prompt them to\ndo.\nThe road, I say, is straight and direct; but there are many turnings and\nopenings in it, both to the right hand and to the left, in which, if a\ntradesman but once ventures to step awry, it is ten thousand to one but\nhe loses himself, and very rarely finds his way back again; at least if\nhe does, it is like a man that has been lost in a wood; he comes out\nwith a scratched face, and torn clothes, tired and spent, and does not\nrecover himself in a long while after.\nIn a word, one steady motion carries him up, but many things assist to\npull him down; there are many ways open to his ruin, but few to his\nrising: and though employment is said to be the best fence against\ntemptations, and he that is busy heartily in his business, temptations\nto idleness and negligence will not be so busy about him, yet tradesmen\nare as often drawn from their business as other men; and when they are\nso, it is more fatal to them a great deal, than it is to gentlemen and\npersons whose employments do not call for their personal attendance so\nmuch as a shop does.\nAmong the many turnings and bye-lanes, which, as I say, are to be met\nwith in the straight road of trade, there are two as dangerous and fatal\nto their prosperity as the worst, though they both carry an appearance\nof good, and promise contrary to what they perform; these are--\nI. Pleasures and diversions, especially such as they will have us call\ninnocent diversions.\nII. Projects and adventures, and especially such as promise mountains of\nprofit _in nubibus_ [in the clouds], and are therefore the more likely\nto ensnare the poor eager avaricious tradesman.\n1. I am now to speak of the first, namely, pleasures and diversions. I\ncannot allow any pleasures to be innocent, when they turn away either\nthe body or the mind of a tradesman from the one needful thing which his\ncalling makes necessary, and that necessity makes his duty--I mean, the\napplication both of his hands and head to his business. Those pleasures\nand diversions may be innocent in themselves, which are not so to him:\nthere are very few things in the world that are simply evil, but things\nare made circumstantially evil when they are not so in themselves:\nkilling a man is not simply sinful; on the contrary, it is not lawful\nonly, but a duty, when justice and the laws of God or man require it;\nbut when done maliciously, from any corrupt principle, or to any\ncorrupted end, is murder, and the worst of crimes.\nPleasures and diversions are thus made criminal, when a man is engaged\nin duty to a full attendance upon such business as those pleasures and\ndiversions necessarily interfere with and interrupt; those pleasures,\nthough innocent in themselves, become a fault in him, because his legal\navocations demand his attendance in another place. Thus those pleasures\nmay be lawful to another man, which are not so to him, because another\nman has not the same obligation to a calling, the same necessity to\napply to it, the same cry of a family, whose bread may depend upon his\ndiligence, as a tradesman has.\nSolomon, the royal patron of industry, tells us, 'He that is a lover of\npleasure, shall be a poor man.' I must not doubt but Solomon is to be\nunderstood of tradesmen and working men, such as I am writing of, whose\ntime and application is due to their business, and who, in pursuit of\ntheir pleasures, are sure to neglect their shops, or employments, and I\ntherefore render the words thus, to the present purpose--'The tradesman\nthat is a lover of pleasure, shall be a poor man.' I hope I do not wrest\nthe Scripture in my interpretation of it; I am sure it agrees with the\nwhole tenor of the wise man's other discourses.\nWhen I see young shopkeepers keep horses, ride a-hunting, learn\ndog-language, and keep the sportsmen's brogue upon their tongues, I will\nnot say I read their destiny, for I am no fortuneteller, but I do say, I\nam always afraid for them; especially when I know that either their\nfortunes and beginnings are below it, or that their trades are such as\nin a particular manner to require their constant attendance. As to see a\nbarber abroad on a Saturday, a corn-factor abroad on a Wednesday and\nFriday, or a Blackwell-hall man on a Thursday, you may as well say a\ncountry shopkeeper should go a-hunting on a market-day, or go a-feasting\nat the fair day of the town where he lives; and yet riding and hunting\nare otherwise lawful diversions, and in their kind very good for\nexercise and health.\nI am not for making a galley-slave of a shopkeeper, and have him chained\ndown to the oar; but if he be a wise, a prudent, and a diligent\ntradesman, he will allow himself as few excursions as possible.\nBusiness neglected is business lost; it is true, there are some\nbusinesses which require less attendance than others, and give a man\nless occasion of application; but, in general, that tradesman who can\nsatisfy himself to be absent from his business, must not expect success;\nif he is above the character of a diligent tradesman, he must then be\nabove the business too, and should leave it to somebody, that, having\nmore need of it, will think it worth his while to mind it better.\nNor, indeed, is it possible a tradesman should be master of any of the\nqualifications which I have set down to denominate him complete, if he\nneglects his shop and his time, following his pleasures and diversions.\nI will allow that the man is not vicious and wicked, that he is not\naddicted to drunkenness, to women, to gaming, or any such things as\nthose, for those are not woundings, but murder, downright killing. A man\nmay wound and hurt himself sometimes, in the rage of an ungoverned\npassion, or in a phrensy or fever, and intend no more; but if he shoots\nhimself through the head, or hangs himself, we are sure then he intended\nto kill and destroy himself, and he dies inevitably.\nFor a tradesman to follow his pleasures, which indeed is generally\nattended with a slighting of his business, leaving his shop to servants\nor others, it is evident to me that he is indifferent whether it thrives\nor no; and, above all, it is evident that his heart is not in his\nbusiness; that he does not delight in it, or look on it with pleasure.\nTo a complete tradesman there is no pleasure equal to that of being in\nhis business, no delight equal to that of seeing himself thrive, to see\ntrade flow in upon him, and to be satisfied that he goes on\nprosperously. He will never thrive, that cares not whether he thrives or\nno. As trade is the chief employment of his life, and is therefore\ncalled, by way of eminence, _his business_, so it should be made the\nchief delight of his life. The tradesman that does not love his\nbusiness, will never give it due attendance.\nPleasure is a bait to the mind, and the mind will attract the body:\nwhere the heart is, the object shall always have the body's company. The\ngreat objection I meet with from young tradesmen against this argument\nis, they follow no unlawful pleasures; they do not spend their time in\ntaverns, and drinking to excess; they do not spend their money in\ngaming, and so stock-starve their business, and rob the shop to supply\nthe extravagant losses of play; or they do not spend their hours in ill\ncompany and debaucheries; all they do, is a little innocent diversion\nin riding abroad now and then for the air, and for their health, and to\nease their thoughts of the throng of other affairs which are heavy upon\nthem, &c.\nThese, I say, are the excuses of young tradesmen; and, indeed, they are\nyoung excuses, and, I may say truly, have nothing in them. It is perhaps\ntrue, or I may grant it so for the present purpose, that the pleasure\nthe tradesman takes is, as he says, not unlawful, and that he follows\nonly a little innocent diversion; but let me tell him, the words are ill\nput together, and the diversion is rather recommended from the word\n_little_, than from the word _innocent_: if it be, indeed, but little,\nit may be innocent; but the case is quite altered by the extent of the\nthing; and the innocence lies here, not in the nature of the thing, not\nin the diversion or pleasure that is taken, but in the time it takes;\nfor if the man spends the time in it which should be spent in his shop\nor warehouse, and his business suffers by his absence, as it must do, if\nthe absence is long at a time, or often practised--the diversion so\ntaken becomes criminal to him, though the same diversion might be\ninnocent in another.\nThus I have heard a young tradesman, who loved his bottle, excuse\nhimself, and say, 'It is true, I have been at the tavern, but I was\ntreated, it cost me nothing.' And this, he thinks, clears him of all\nblame; not considering that when he spends no money, yet he spends five\ntimes the value of the money in time. Another says, 'Why, indeed, I was\nat the tavern yesterday all the afternoon, but I could not help it, and\nI spent but sixpence.' But at the same time perhaps it might be said he\nspent five pounds' worth of time, his business being neglected, his shop\nunattended, his books not posted, his letters not written, and the\nlike--for all those things are works necessary to a tradesman, as well\nas the attendance on his shop, and infinitely above the pleasure of\nbeing treated at the expense of his time. All manner of pleasures should\nbuckle and be subservient to business: he that makes his pleasure be his\nbusiness, will never make his business be a pleasure. Innocent pleasures\nbecome sinful, when they are used to excess, and so it is here; the most\ninnocent diversion becomes criminal, when it breaks in upon that which\nis the due and just employment of the man's life. Pleasures rob the\ntradesman, and how, then, can he call them innocent diversions? They are\ndownright thieves; they rob his shop of his attendance, and of the time\nwhich he ought to bestow there; they rob his family of their due\nsupport, by the man's neglecting that business by which they are to be\nsupported and maintained; and they oftentimes rob the creditors of their\njust debts, the tradesman sinking by the inordinate use of those\ninnocent diversions, as he calls them, as well by the expense attending\nthem, as the loss of his time, and neglect of his business, by which he\nis at last reduced to the necessity of shutting up shop in earnest,\nwhich was indeed as good as shut before. A shop without a master is like\nthe same shop on a middling holiday, half shut up, and he that keeps it\nlong so, need not doubt but he may in a little time more shut it quite\nup.\nIn short, pleasure is a thief to business; how any man can call it\ninnocent, let him answer that does so; it robs him every way, as I have\nsaid above: and if the tradesman be a Christian, and has any regard to\nreligion and his duty, I must tell him, that when upon his disasters he\nshall reflect, and see that he has ruined himself and his family, by\nfollowing too much those diversions and pleasures which he thought\ninnocent, and which perhaps in themselves were really so, he will find\ngreat cause to repent of that which he insisted on as innocent; he will\nfind himself lost, by doing lawful things, and that he made those\ninnocent things sinful, and those lawful things unlawful to him. Thus,\nas they robbed his family and creditors before of their just debts--for\nmaintenance is a tradesman's just debt to his family, and a wife and\nchildren are as much a tradesman's real creditors as those who trusted\nhim with their goods--I say, as his innocent pleasures robbed his family\nand creditors before, they will rob him now of his peace, and of all\nthat calm of soul which an honest, industrious, though unfortunate,\ntradesman meets with under his disasters.\nI am asked here, perhaps, how much pleasure an honest-meaning tradesman\nmay be allowed to take? for it cannot be supposed I should insist that\nall pleasure is forbidden him, that he must have no diversion, no spare\nhours, no intervals from hurry and fatigue; that would be to pin him\ndown to the very floor of his shop, as John Sheppard was locked down to\nthe floor of his prison.\nThe answer to this question every prudent tradesman may make for\nhimself: if his pleasure is in his shop, and in his business, there is\nno danger of him; but if he has an itch after exotic diversions--I mean\nsuch as are foreign to his shop, and to his business, and which I\ntherefore call _exotic_--let him honestly and fairly state the case\nbetween his shop and his diversions, and judge impartially for himself.\nSo much pleasure, and no more, may be innocently taken, as does not\ninterfere with, or do the least damage to his business, by taking him\naway from it.\nEvery moment that his trade wants him in his shop or warehouse, it is\nhis duty to be there; it is not enough to say, I believe I shall not be\nwanted; or I believe I shall suffer no loss by my absence. He must come\nto a point and not deceive himself; if he does, the cheat is all his\nown. If he will not judge sincerely at first, he will reproach himself\nsincerely at last; for there is no fraud against his own reflections: a\nman is very rarely a hypocrite to himself.\nThe rule may be, in a few words, thus: those pleasures or diversions,\nand those only, can be innocent, which the man may or does use, or\nallow himself to use, without hindrance of, or injury to, his business\nand reputation.\nLet the diversions or pleasures in question be what they will, and how\ninnocent soever they are in themselves, they are not so to him, because\nthey interrupt or interfere with his business, which is his immediate\nduty. I have mentioned the circumstance which touches this part too,\nnamely, that there may be a time when even the needful duties of\nreligion may become faults, and unseasonable, when another more needful\nattendance calls for us to apply to it; much more, then, those things\nwhich are only barely lawful. There is a visible difference between the\nthings which we may do, and the things which we must do. Pleasures at\ncertain seasons are allowed, and we may give ourselves some loose to\nthem; but business, I mean to the man of business, is that needful\nthing, of which it is not to be said it _may_, but it _must_ be done.\nAgain, those pleasures which may not only be lawful in themselves, but\nwhich may be lawful to other men, yet are criminal and unlawful to him.\nTo gentlemen of fortunes and estates, who being born to large\npossessions, and have no avocations of this kind, it is certainly lawful\nto spend their spare hours on horseback, with their hounds or hawks,\npursuing their game; or, on foot, with their gun and their net, and\ntheir dogs to kill the hares or birds, &c.--all which we call sport.\nThese are the men that can, with a particular satisfaction, when they\ncome home, say they have only taken an innocent diversion; and yet even\nin these, there are not wanting some excesses which take away the\ninnocence of them, and consequently the satisfaction in their\nreflection, and therefore it was I said it was lawful to them to spend\ntheir spare hours--by which I am to be understood, those hours which are\nnot due to more solemn and weighty occasions, such as the duties of\nreligion in particular. But as this is not my present subject, I\nproceed; for I am not talking to gentlemen now, but to tradesmen.\nThe prudent tradesman will, in time, consider what he ought or ought not\nto do, in his own particular case, as to his pleasures--not what another\nman may or may not do. In short, nothing of pleasure or diversion can be\ninnocent to him, whatever it may be to another, if it injures his\nbusiness, if it takes either his time, or his mind, or his delight, or\nhis attendance, from his business; nor can all the little excuses, of\nits being for his health, and for the needful unbending the bow of the\nmind, from the constant application of business, for all these must\nstoop to the great article of his shop and business; though I might add,\nthat the bare taking the air for health, and for a recess to the mind,\nis not the thing I am talking of--it is the taking an immoderate\nliberty, and spending an immoderate length of time, and that at\nunseasonable and improper hours, so as to make his pleasures and\ndiversions be prejudicial to his business--this is the evil I object to,\nand this is too much the ruin of the tradesmen of this age; and thus any\nman who calmly reads these papers will see I ought to be understood.\nNor do I confine this discourse to the innocent diversions of a horse,\nand riding abroad to take the air; things which, as above, are made\nhurtful and unlawful to him, only as they are hindrances to his\nbusiness, and are more or less so, as they rob his shop or warehouse, or\nbusiness, or his attendance and time, and cause him to draw his\naffections off from his calling.\nBut we see other and new pleasures daily crowding in upon the tradesman,\nand some which no age before this have been in danger of--I mean, not to\nsuch an excess as is now the case, and consequently there were fewer\ntradesmen drawn into the practice.\nThe present age is a time of gallantry and gaiety; nothing of the\npresent pride and vanity was known, or but very little of it, in former\ntimes: the baits which are every where laid for the corruption of youth,\nand for the ruin of their fortunes, were never so many and so\nmischievous as they are now.\nWe scarce now see a tradesman's apprentice come to his fifth year, but\nhe gets a long wig and a sword, and a set of companions suitable; and\nthis wig and sword, being left at proper and convenient places, are put\non at night after the shop is shut, or when they can slip out to go\na-raking in, and when they never fail of company ready to lead them into\nall manner of wickedness and debauchery; and from this cause it is\nprincipally that so many apprentices are ruined, and run away from their\nmasters before they come out of their times--more, I am persuaded, now,\nthan ever were to be found before.\nNor, as I said before, will I charge the devil with having any hand in\nthe ruin of these young fellows--indeed, he needs not trouble himself\nabout them, they are his own by early choice--they anticipate\ntemptation, and are as forward as the devil can desire them to be. These\nmay be truly said to be drawn aside of their own lusts, and\nenticed--they need no tempter.\nBut of these I may also say, they seldom trouble the tradesmen's class;\nthey get ruined early, and finish the tradesman before they begin, so my\ndiscourse is not at present directed much to them; indeed, they are past\nadvice before they come in my way.\nIndeed, I knew one of these sort of gentlemen-apprentices make an\nattempt to begin, and set up his trade--he was a dealer in what they\ncall Crooked-lane wares: he got about \u00a3300 from his father, an honest\nplain countryman, to set him up, and his said honest father exerted\nhimself to the utmost to send him up so much money.\nWhen he had gotten the money, he took a shop near the place where he had\nserved his time, and entering upon the shop, he had it painted, and\nfitted up, and some goods he bought in order to furnish it; but before\nthat, he was obliged to pay about \u00a370 of the money to little debts,\nwhich he had contracted in his apprenticeship, at two or three\nale-houses, for drink and eatables, treats, and junketings; and at the\nbarber's for long perukes, at the sempstress's for fine Holland-shirts,\nturn-overs, white gloves, &c, to make a beau of him, and at several\nother places.\nWhen he came to dip into this, and found that it wanted still \u00a330 or \u00a340\nto equip him for the company which he had learned to keep, he took care\nto do this first; and being delighted with his new dress, and how like a\ngentleman he looked, he was resolved, before he opened a shop, to take\nhis swing a little in the town; so away he went, with two of his\nneighbour's apprentices, to the play-house, thence to the tavern, not\nfar from his dwelling, and there they fell to cards, and sat up all\nnight--and thus they spent about a fortnight; the rest just creeping\ninto their masters' houses, by the connivance of their fellow-servants,\nand he getting a bed in the tavern, where what he spent, to be sure,\nmade them willing enough to oblige him--that is to say, to encourage him\nto ruin himself.\nThey then changed their course, indeed, and went to the ball, and that\nnecessarily kept them out the most part of the night, always having\ntheir supper dressed at the tavern at their return; and thus, in a few\nwords, he went on till he made way through all the remaining money he\nhad left, and was obliged to call his creditors together, and break\nbefore he so much as opened his shop--I say, his creditors, for great\npart of the goods which he had furnished his shop with were unpaid for;\nperhaps some few might be bought with ready money.\nThis man, indeed, is the only tradesman that ever I met with, that set\nup and broke before his shop was open; others I have indeed known make\nvery quick work of it.\nBut this part rather belongs to another head. I am at present not\ntalking of madmen, as I hope, indeed, I am not writing to madmen, but I\nam talking of tradesmen undone by lawful things, by what they call\ninnocent and harmless things--such as riding abroad, or walking abroad\nto take the air, and to divert themselves, dogs, gun, country-sport, and\ncity-recreation. These things are certainly lawful, and in themselves\nvery innocent; nay, they may be needful for health, and to give some\nrelaxation to the mind, hurried with too much business; but the\nneedfulness of them is so much made an excuse, and the excess of them is\nso injurious to the tradesman's business and to his time, which should\nbe set apart for his shop and his trade, that there are not a few\ntradesmen thus lawfully ruined, as I may call it--in a word, lawful or\nunlawful, their shop is neglected, their business goes behind-hand, and\nit is all one to the subject of breaking, and to the creditor, whether\nthe man was undone by being a knave, or by being a fool; it is all one\nwhether he lost his trade by scandalous immoral negligence, or by sober\nor religious negligence.\nIn a word, business languishes, while the tradesman is absent, and\nneglects it, be it for his health or for his pleasure, be it in good\ncompany or in bad, be it from a good or an ill design; and if the\nbusiness languishes, the tradesman will not be long before he languishes\ntoo; for nothing can support the tradesman but his supporting his trade\nby a due attendance and application.[18]\nFOOTNOTES:\n[18] [In the above admirable series of plain-spoken advices, the author\nhas omitted one weighty reason why young tradesmen should not spend\ntheir evenings in frivolous, or otherwise improper company. The actual\nloss of time and of money incurred by such courses of conduct, is\ngenerally of less consequence than the losses arising from habitual\ndistraction of mind, and the acquisition of an acquaintanceship with a\nset of idle or silly companions. It is of the utmost importance that\nyoung tradesmen should spend their leisure hours in a way calculated to\nsoothe the feelings, and enlarge the mind; and in the present day, from\nthe prevalance of literature, and other rational means for amusement,\nthey have ample opportunities of doing so.]\nCHAPTER X\nOF EXTRAVAGANT AND EXPENSIVE LIVING; ANOTHER STEP TO A TRADESMAN'S\nDISASTER\nHitherto I have written of tradesmen ruined by lawful and innocent\ndiversions; and, indeed, these are some of the most dangerous pits for a\ntradesman to fall into, because men are so apt to be insensible of the\ndanger: a ship may as well be lost in a calm smooth sea, and an easy\nfair gale of wind, as in a storm, if they have no pilot, or the pilot be\nignorant or unwary; and disasters of that nature happen as frequently as\nany others, and are as fatal. When rocks are apparent, and the pilot,\nbold and wilful, runs directly upon them, without fear or wit, we know\nthe fate of the ship--it must perish, and all that are in it will\ninevitably be lost; but in a smooth sea, a bold shore, an easy gale, the\nunseen rocks or shoals are the only dangers, and nothing can hazard them\nbut the skilfulness of the pilot: and thus it is in trade. Open\ndebaucheries and extravagances, and a profusion of expense, as well as a\ngeneral contempt of business, these are open and current roads to a\ntradesman's destruction; but a silent going on, in pursuit of innocent\npleasures, a smooth and calm, but sure neglect of his shop, and time,\nand business, will as effectually and as surely ruin the tradesman as\nthe other; and though the means are not so scandalous, the effect is as\ncertain. But I proceed to the other.\nNext to immoderate pleasures, the tradesman ought to be warned against\nimmoderate expense. This is a terrible article, and more particularly so\nto the tradesman, as custom has now, as it were on purpose for their\nundoing, introduced a general habit of, and as it were a general\ninclination among all sorts of people to, an expensive way of living; to\nwhich might be added a kind of necessity of it; for that even with the\ngreatest prudence and frugality a man cannot now support a family with\nthe ordinary expense, which the same family might have been maintained\nwith some few years ago: there is now (1) a weight of taxes upon almost\nall the necessaries of life, bread and flesh excepted, as coals, salt,\nmalt, candles, soap, leather, hops, wine, fruit, and all foreign\nconsumptions; (2) a load of pride upon the temper of the nation, which,\nin spite of taxes and the unusual dearess of every thing, yet prompts\npeople to a profusion in their expenses.\nThis is not so properly called a _tax_ upon the tradesmen; I think\nrather, it may be called _a plague_ upon them: for there is, first, the\ndearness of every necessary thing to make living expensive; and\nsecondly, an unconquerable aversion to any restraint; so that the poor\nwill be like the rich, and the rich like the great, and the great like\nthe greatest--and thus the world runs on to a kind of distraction at\nthis time: where it will end, time must discover.\nNow, the tradesman I speak of, if he will thrive, he must resolve to\nbegin as he can go on; and if he does so, in a word, he must resolve to\nlive more under restraint than ever tradesmen of his class used to do;\nfor every necessary thing being, as I have said, grown dearer than\nbefore, he must entirely omit all the enjoyment of the unnecessaries\nwhich he might have allowed himself before, or perhaps be obliged to an\nexpense beyond the income of his trade: and in either of these cases he\nhas a great hardship upon him.\nWhen I talk of immoderate expenses, I must be understood not yet to mean\nthe extravagances of wickedness and debaucheries; there are so many\nsober extravagances, and so many grave sedate ways for a tradesman's\nruin, and they are so much more dangerous than those hair-brained\ndesperate ways of gaming and debauchery, that I think it is the best\nservice I can do the tradesmen to lay before them those sunk rocks (as\nthe seamen call them), those secret dangers in the first place, that\nthey may know how to avoid them; and as for the other common ways,\ncommon discretion will supply them with caution for those, and their\nsenses will be their protection.\nThe dangers to the tradesmen whom I am directing myself to, are from\nlawful things, and such as before are called innocent; for I am speaking\nto the sober part of tradesmen, who yet are often ruined and overthrown\nin trade; and perhaps as many such miscarry, as of the mad and\nextravagant, particularly because their number far exceeds them.\nExpensive living is a kind of slow fever; it is not so open, so\nthreatening and dangerous, as the ordinary distemper which goes by that\nname, but it preys upon the spirits, and, when its degrees are increased\nto a height, is as fatal and as sure to kill as the other: it is a\nsecret enemy, that feeds upon the vitals; and when it has gone its full\nlength, and the languishing tradesman is weakened in his solid part, I\nmean his stock, then it overwhelms him at once.\nExpensive living feeds upon the life and blood of the tradesman, for it\neats into the two most essential branches of his trade, namely, his\ncredit and his cash; the first is its triumph, and the last is its food:\nnothing goes out to cherish the exorbitance, but the immediate money;\nexpenses seldom go on trust, they are generally supplied and supported\nwith ready money, whatever are not.\nThis expensive way of living consists in several things, which are all\nindeed in their degree ruinous to the tradesman; such as\n     1. Expensive house-keeping, or family extravagance.\n     2. Expensive dressing, or the extravagance of fine clothes.\n     3. Expensive company, or keeping company above himself.\n     4. Expensive equipages, making a show and ostentation of\n     figure in the world.\nI might take them all in bulk, and say, what has a young tradesman to do\nwith these? and yet where is there a tradesman now to be found, who is\nnot more or less guilty? It is, as I have said, the general vice of the\ntimes; the whole nation are more or less in the crime; what with\nnecessity and inclination, where is the man or the family that lives as\nsuch families used to live?\nIn short, good husbandry and frugality is quite out of fashion, and he\nthat goes about to set up for the practice of it, must mortify every\nthing about him that has the least tincture of frugality; it is the mode\nto live high, to spend more than we get, to neglect trade, contemn care\nand concern, and go on without forecast, or without consideration; and,\nin consequence, it is the mode to go on to extremity, to break, become\nbankrupt and beggars, and so going off the trading stage, leave it open\nfor others to come after us, and do the same.[19]\nTo begin with house-keeping. I have already hinted, that every thing\nbelonging to the family subsistence bears a higher price than usual, I\nmay say, than ever; at the same time I can neither undertake to prove\nthat there is more got by selling, or more ways to get it, I mean to a\ntradesman, than there was formerly; the consequence then must be, that\nthe tradesmen do not grow rich faster than formerly; at least we may\nventure to say this of tradesmen and their families, comparing them with\nformer times, namely, that there is not more got, and I am satisfied\nthere is less laid up, than was then; or, if you will have it, that\ntradesmen get less and spend more than they ever did. How they should be\nricher than they were in those times, is very hard to say.\nThat all things are dearer than formerly to a house-keeper, needs little\ndemonstration; the taxes necessarily infer it from the weight of them,\nand the many things charged; for, besides the things enumerated above,\nwe find all articles of foreign importation are increased by the high\nduties laid on them; such as linen, especially fine linen; silk,\nespecially foreign wrought silk: every thing eatable, drinkable, and\nwearable, are made heavy to us by high and exorbitant customs and\nexcises, as brandies, tobacco, sugar; deals and timber for building;\noil, wine, spice, raw silks, calico, chocolate, coffee, tea; on some of\nthese the duties are more than doubled: and yet that which is most\nobservable is, that such is the expensive humour of the times, that not\na family, no, hardly of the meanest tradesman, but treat their friends\nwith wine, or punch, or fine ale; and have their parlours set off with\nthe tea-table and the chocolate-pot--treats and liquors all exotic,\nforeign and new among tradesmen, and terrible articles in their modern\nexpenses; which have nothing to be said for them, either as to the\nexpense of them, or the helps to health which they boast of: on the\ncontrary, they procure us rheumatic bodies and consumptive purses, and\ncan no way pass with me for necessaries; but being needless, they add to\nthe expense, by sending us to the doctors and apothecaries to cure the\nbreaches which they make in our health, and are themselves the very\nworst sort of superfluities.\nBut I come back to necessaries; and even in them, family-expenses are\nextremely risen, provisions are higher rated--no provisions that I know\nof, except only bread, mutton, and fish, but are made dearer than\never--house-rent, in almost all the cities and towns of note in England,\nis excessively and extremely dearer, and that in spite of such\ninnumerable buildings as we see almost everywhere raised up, as well in\nthe country as in London, and the parts adjacent.\nAdd to the rents of houses, the wages of servants. A tradesman, be he\never so much inclined to good husbandry, cannot always do his\nkitchen-work himself, suppose him a bachelor, or can his wife, suppose\nhim married, and suppose her to have brought him any portion, be his\nbedfellow and his cook too. These maid-servants, then, are to be\nconsidered, and are an exceeding tax upon house-keepers; those who were\nformerly hired at three pounds to four pounds a-year wages, now demand\nfive, six and eight pounds a-year; nor do they double anything upon us\nbut their wages and their pride; for, instead of doing more work for\ntheir advance of wages, they do less: and the ordinary work of families\ncannot now be performed by the same number of maids, which, in short, is\na tax upon the upper sort of tradesmen, and contributes very often to\ntheir disasters, by the extravagant keeping three or four maid-servants\nin a house, nay, sometimes five, where two formerly were thought\nsufficient. This very extravagance is such, that talking lately with a\nman very well experienced in this matter, he told me he had been making\nhis calculations on that very particular, and he found by computation,\nthat the number of servants kept by all sorts of people, tradesmen as\nwell as others, was so much increased, that there are in London, and the\ntowns within ten miles of it, take it every way, above a hundred\nthousand more maid-servants and footmen, at this time in place, than\nused to be in the same compass of ground thirty years ago;[20] and that\ntheir wages amounted to above forty shillings a-head per annum, more\nthan the wages of the like number of servants did amount to at the same\nlength of time past; the advance to the whole body amounting to no less\nthan two hundred thousand pounds a-year.\nIndeed, it is not easy to guess what the expense of wages to servants\namounts to in a year, in this nation; and consequently we cannot easily\ndetermine what the increase of that expense amounts to in England, but\ncertainly it must rise to many hundred thousand pounds a-year in the\nwhole.\nThe tradesmen bear their share of this expense, and indeed too great a\nshare, very ordinary tradesmen in London keeping at least two maids, and\nsome more, and some a footman or two besides; for it is an ordinary\nthing to see the tradesmen and shopkeepers of London keep footmen, as\nwell as the gentlemen: witness the infinite number of blue liveries,\nwhich are so common now that they are called the tradesmen's liveries;\nand few gentlemen care to give blue to their servants for that very\nreason.\nIn proportion to their servants, the tradesmen now keep their tables,\nwhich are also advanced in their proportion of expense to other things:\nindeed, the citizen's and tradesmen's tables are now the emblems, not of\nplenty, but of luxury, not of good house-keeping, but of profusion, and\nthat of the highest kind of extravagance; insomuch, that it was the\nopinion of a gentleman who had been not a traveller only, but a nice\nobserver of such things abroad, that there is at this time more waste of\nprovisions in England than in any other nation in the world, of equal\nextent of ground; and that England consumes for their whole subsistence\nmore flesh than half Europe besides; that the beggars of London, and\nwithin ten miles round it, eat more white bread than the whole kingdom\nof Scotland,[21] and the like.\nBut this is an observation only, though I believe it is very just; I am\nbringing it in here only as an example of the dreadful profusion of this\nage, and how an extravagant way of expensive living, perfectly negligent\nof all degrees of frugality or good husbandry, is the reigning vice of\nthe people. I could enlarge upon it, and very much to the purpose here,\nbut I shall have occasion to speak of it again.\nThe tradesman, whom I am speaking to by way of direction, will not, I\nhope, think this the way for him to thrive, or find it for his\nconvenience to fall in with this common height of living presently, in\nhis beginning; if he comes gradually into it after he has gotten\nsomething considerable to lay by, I say, if he does it then, it is early\nenough, and he may be said to be insensibly drawn into it by the\nnecessity of the times; because, forsooth, it is a received notion, 'We\nmust be like other folks:' I say, if he does fall into it then, when he\nwill pretend he cannot help it, it is better than worse, and if he can\nafford it, well and good; but to begin thus, to set up at this rate,\nwhen he first looks into the world, I can only say this, he that begins\nin such a manner, it will not be difficult to guess where he will end;\nfor a tradesman's pride certainly precedes his destruction, and an\nexpensive living goes before his fall.\nWe are speaking now to a tradesman, who, it is supposed, must live by\nhis business, a young man who sets up a shop, or warehouse, and expects\nto get money; one that would be a rich tradesman, rather than a poor,\nfine, gay man; a grave citizen, not a peacock's feather; for he that\nsets up for a Sir Fopling Flutter, instead of a complete tradesman, is\nnot to be thought capable of relishing this discourse; neither does this\ndiscourse relish him; for such men seem to be among the incurables, and\nare rather fit for an hospital of fools (so the French call our Bedlam)\nthan to undertake trade, and enter upon business.\nTrade is not a ball, where people appear in masque, and act a part to\nmake sport; where they strive to seem what they really are not, and to\nthink themselves best dressed when they are least known: but it is a\nplain visible scene of honest life, shown best in its native appearance,\nwithout disguise; supported by prudence and frugality; and like strong,\nstiff, clay land, grows fruitful only by good husbandry, culture, and\nmanuring.\nA tradesman dressed up fine, with his long wig and sword, may go to the\nball when he pleases, for he is already dressed up in the habit; like a\npiece of counterfeit money, he is brass washed over with silver, and no\ntradesman will take him for current; with money in his hand, indeed, he\nmay go to the merchant's warehouse and buy any thing, but no body will\ndeal with him without it: he may write upon his edged hat, as a certain\ntradesman, after having been once broke and set up again, 'I neither\ngive nor take credit:' and as others set up in their shops, 'No trust by\nretail,' so he may say, 'No trust by wholesale.' In short, thus\nequipped, he is truly a tradesman in masquerade, and must pass for such\nwherever he is known. How long it may be before his dress and he may\nsuit, it not hard to guess.\nSome will have it that this expensive way of living began among the\ntradesmen first, that is to say, among the citizens of London; and that\ntheir eager resolved pursuit of that empty and meanest kind of pride,\ncalled imitation, namely, to look like the gentry, and appear above\nthemselves, drew them into it. It has indeed been a fatal custom, but\nit has been too long a city vanity. If men of quality lived like\nthemselves, men of no quality would strive to live not like themselves:\nif those had plenty, these would have profusion; if those had enough,\nthese would have excess; if those had what was good, these would have\nwhat was rare and exotic; I mean as to season, and consequently dear.\nAnd this is one of the ways that have worn out so many tradesmen before\ntheir time.\nThis extravagance, wherever it began, had its first rise among those\nsorts of tradesmen, who, scorning the society of their shops and\ncustomers, applied themselves to rambling to courts and plays; kept\ncompany above themselves, and spent their hours in such company as lives\nalways above them; this could not but bring great expense along with it,\nand that expense would not be confined to the bare keeping such company\nabroad, but soon showed itself in a living like them at home, whether\nthe tradesmen could support it or no.\nKeeping high company abroad certainly brings on visitings and high\ntreatings at home; and these are attended with costly furniture, rich\nclothes, and dainty tables. How these things agree with a tradesman's\nincome, it is easy to suggest; and that, in short, these measures have\nsent so many tradesmen to the Mint and to the Fleet, where I am witness\nto it that they have still carried on their expensive living till they\nhave come at last to starving and misery; but have been so used to it,\nthey could not abate it, or at least not quite leave it off, though they\nwanted the money to pay for it.\nNor is the expensive dressing a little tax upon tradesmen, as it is now\ncome up to an excess not formerly known to tradesmen; and though it is\ntrue that this particularly respects the ladies (for the tradesmen's\nwives now claim that title, as they do by their dress claim the\nappearance), yet to do justice to them, and not to load the women with\nthe reproach, as if it were wholly theirs, it must be acknowledged the\nmen have their share in dress, as the times go now, though, it is true,\nnot so antic and gay as in former days; but do we not see fine wigs,\nfine Holland shirts of six to seven shillings an ell, and perhaps laced\nalso, all lately brought down to the level of the apron, and become the\ncommon wear of tradesmen--nay, I may say, of tradesmen's\napprentices--and that in such a manner as was never known in England\nbefore?\nIf the tradesman is thriving, and can support this and his credit too,\nthat makes the case differ, though even then it cannot be said to be\nsuitable; but for a tradesman to begin thus, is very imprudent, because\nthe expense of this, as I said before, drains the very life-blood of his\ntrade, taking away his ready money only, and making no return, but the\nworst of return, poverty and reproach; and, in case of miscarriage,\ninfinite scandal and offence.\nI am loth to make any part of my writing a satire upon the women; nor,\nindeed, does the extravagance either of dress or house-keeping, lie all,\nor always, at the door of the tradesmen's wives--the husband is often\nthe prompter of it; at least he does not let his wife into the detail of\nhis circumstances, he does not make her mistress of her own condition,\nbut either flatters her with notions of his wealth, his profits, and his\nflourishing circumstances, and so the innocent woman spends high and\nlives great, believing that she is in a condition to afford it, and that\nher husband approves of it; at least, he does not offer to retrench or\nrestrain her, but lets her go on, and indeed goes on with her, to the\nruin of both.\nI cannot but mention one thing here (though I purpose to give you one\ndiscourse on that subject by itself), namely, the great and\nindispensable obligation there is upon a tradesman always to acquaint\nhis wife with the truth of his circumstances, and not to let her run on\nin ignorance, till she falls with him down the precipice of an\nunavoidable ruin--a thing no prudent woman would do, and therefore will\nnever take amiss a husband's plainness in that particular case. But I\nreserve this to another place, because I am rather directing my\ndiscourse at this time to the tradesman at his beginning, and, as it may\nbe supposed, unmarried.\nNext to the expensive dressing, I place the expensive keeping company,\nas one thing fatal to a tradesman, and which, if he would be a complete\ntradesman, he should avoid with the utmost diligence. It is an agreeable\nthing to be seen in good company; for a man to see himself courted and\nvalued, and his company desired by men of fashion and distinction, is\nvery pleasing to any young tradesman, and it is really a snare which a\nyoung tradesman, if he be a man of sense, can very hardly resist. There\nis in itself indeed nothing that can be objected against, or is not very\nagreeable to the nature of man, and that not to his vicious part merely,\nbut even to his best faculties; for who would not value himself upon\nbeing, as above, rendered acceptable to men both in station and figure\nabove themselves? and it is really a piece of excellent advice which a\nlearned man gave to his son, always to keep company with men above\nhimself, not with men below himself.\nBut take me now to be talking, as I really am, not to the man merely,\nbut to his circumstances, if he were a man of fortune, and had the view\nof great things before him, it would hold good; but if he is a young\ntradesman, such as I am now speaking of, who is newly entered into\nbusiness, and must depend upon his said business for his subsistence and\nsupport, and hopes to raise himself by it--I say, if I am talking to\nsuch a one, I must say to him, that keeping company as above, with men\nsuperior to himself in knowledge, in figure, and estate, is not his\nbusiness; for, first, as such conversation must necessarily take up a\ngreat deal of his time, so it ordinarily must occasion a great expense\nof money, and both destructive of his prosperity; nay, sometimes the\nfirst may be as fatal to him as the last, and it is oftentimes true in\nthat sense of trade, that while by keeping company he is drawn out of\nhis business, his absence from his shop or warehouse is the most fatal\nto him; and while he spends one crown in the tavern, he spends forty\ncrowns' worth of his time; and with this difference, too, which renders\nit the worse to the tradesman, namely, that the money may be recovered,\nand gotten up again, but the time cannot. For example--\n1. Perhaps in that very juncture a person comes to his warehouse.\nSuppose the tradesman to be a warehouse-keeper, who trades by\ncommission, and this person, being a clothier in the country, comes to\noffer him his business, the commission of which might have been worth to\nhim thirty to forty or fifty pounds per annum; but finding him abroad,\nor rather, not finding him at home and in his business, goes to another,\nand fixes with him at once. I once knew a dealer lose such an occasion\nas this, for an afternoon's pleasure, he being gone a-fishing into\nHackney-marsh. This loss can never be restored, this expense of time was\na fatal expense of money; and no tradesman will deny but they find many\nsuch things as this happen in the course of trade, either to themselves\nor others.\n2. Another tradesman is invited to dinner by his great friend; for I am\nnow speaking chiefly upon the subject of keeping high company, and what\nthe tradesman sometimes suffers by it; it is true, that there he finds a\nmost noble entertainment, the person of quality, and that professes a\nfriendship for him, treats him with infinite respect, is fond of him,\nmakes him welcome as a prince--for I am speaking of the acquaintance as\nreally valuable and good in itself--but then, see it in its\nconsequences. The tradesman on this occasion misses his 'Change, that\nis, omits going to the Exchange for that one day only, and not being\nfound there, a merchant with whom he was in treaty for a large parcel of\nforeign goods, which would have been to his advantage to have bought,\nsells them to another more diligent man in the same way; and when he\ncomes home, he finds, to his great mortification, that he has lost a\nbargain that would have been worth a hundred pounds buying; and now\nbeing in want of the goods, he is forced to entreat his neighbour who\nbought them to part with some of them at a considerable advance of\nprice, and esteem it a favour too. Who now paid dearest for the visit to\na person of figure?--the gentleman, who perhaps spent twenty shillings\nextraordinary to give him a handsome dinner, or the tradesman who lost a\nbargain worth a hundred pounds buying to go to eat it?\n3. Another tradesman goes to 'Change in the ordinary course of his\nbusiness, intending to speak with some of the merchants, his customers,\nas is usual, and get orders for goods, or perhaps an appointment to come\nto his warehouse to buy; but a snare of the like kind falls in his way,\nand a couple of friends, who perhaps have little or no business, at\nleast with him, lay hold of him, and they agree to go off Change to the\ntavern together. By complying with this invitation, he omits speaking to\nsome of those merchants, as above, who, though he knew nothing of their\nminds, yet it had been his business to have shown himself to them, and\nhave put himself in the way of their call; but omitting this, he goes\nand drinks a bottle of wine, as above, and though he stays but an hour,\nor, as we say, but a little while, yet unluckily, in that interim, the\nmerchant, not seeing him on the Exchange, calls at his warehouse as he\ngoes from the Exchange, but not finding him there either, he goes to\nanother warehouse, and gives his orders to the value of \u00a3300 or \u00a3400, to\na more diligent neighbour of the same business; by which he (the\nwarehouse-keeper) not only loses the profit of selling that parcel, or\nserving that order, but the merchant is shown the way to his neighbour's\nwarehouse, who, being more diligent than himself, fails not to cultivate\nhis interest, obliges him with selling low, even to little or no gain,\nfor the first parcel; and so the unhappy tradesman loses not his selling\nthat parcel only, but loses the very customer, which was, as it were,\nhis peculiar property before.\nAll these things, and many more such, are the consequences of a\ntradesman's absence from his business; and I therefore say, the expense\nof time on such light occasions as these, is one of the worst sorts of\nextravagance, and the most fatal to the tradesman, because really he\nknows not what he loses.\nAbove all things, the tradesman should take care not to be absent in the\nseason of business, as I have mentioned above; for the warehouse-keeper\nto be absent from 'Change, which is his market, or from his warehouse,\nat the times when the merchants generally go about to buy, he had better\nbe absent all the rest of the day.\nI know nothing is more frequent, than for the tradesman, when company\ninvites, or an excursion from business presses, to say, 'Well, come, I\nhave nothing to do; there is no business to hinder, there is nothing\nneglected, I have no letters to write;' and the like; and away he goes\nto take the air for the afternoon, or to sit and enjoy himself with a\nfriend--all of them things innocent and lawful in themselves; but here\nis the crisis of a tradesman's prosperity. In that very moment business\npresents, a valuable customer comes to buy, an unexpected bargain offers\nto be sold; another calls to pay money; and the like: nay, I would\nalmost say, but that I am loth to concern the devil in more evils than\nhe is guilty of--that the devil frequently draws a man out of his\nbusiness when something extraordinary is just at hand for his advantage.\nBut not, as I have said, to charge the devil with what he is not guilty\nof, the tradesman is generally his own tempter; his head runs off from\nhis business by a secret indolence; company, and the pleasure of being\nwell received among gentlemen, is a cursed snare to a young tradesman,\nand carries him away from his business, for the mere vanity of being\ncaressed and complimented by men who mean no ill, and perhaps know not\nthe mischief they do to the man they show respect to; and this the young\ntradesman cannot resist, and that is in time his undoing.\nThe tradesman's pleasure should be in his business, his companions\nshould be his books; and if he has a family, he makes his excursions up\nstairs, and no farther; when he is there, a bell or a call brings him\ndown; and while he is in his parlour, his shop or his warehouse never\nmisses him; his customers never go away unserved, his letters never come\nin and are unanswered. None of my cautions aim at restraining a\ntradesman from diverting himself, as we call it, with his fireside, or\nkeeping company with his wife and children: there are so few tradesmen\nruin themselves that way, and so few ill consequences happen upon an\nuxorious temper, that I will not so much as rank it with the rest; nor\ncan it be justly called one of the occasions of a tradesman's disasters;\non the contrary, it is too often that the want of a due complacency\nthere, the want of taking delight there, estranges the man from not his\nparlour only, but his warehouse and shop, and every part of business\nthat ought to engross both his mind and his time. That tradesman who\ndoes not delight in his family, will never long delight in his business;\nfor, as one great end of an honest tradesman's diligence is the support\nof his family, and the providing for the comfortable subsistence of his\nwife and children, so the very sight of, and above all, his tender and\naffectionate care for his wife and children, is the spur of his\ndiligence; that is, it puts an edge upon his mind, and makes him hunt\nthe world for business, as hounds hunt the woods for their game. When he\nis dispirited, or discouraged by crosses and disappointments, and ready\nto lie down and despair, the very sight of his family rouses him again,\nand he flies to his business with a new vigour; 'I must follow my\nbusiness,' says he, 'or we must all starve, my poor children must\nperish;' in a word, he that is not animated to diligence by the very\nsight and thought of his wife and children being brought to misery and\ndistress, is a kind of a deaf adder that no music will charm, or a\nTurkish mute that no pity can move: in a word, he is a creature not to\nbe called human, a wretch hardened against all the passions and\naffections that nature has furnished to other animals; and as there is\nno rhetoric of use to such a kind of man as that, so I am not talking to\nsuch a one, he must go among the incurables; for, where nature cannot\nwork, what can argument assist?\nFOOTNOTES:\n[19] [Now, as in Defoe's time, a common observer is apt to be impressed\nwith the idea, that expenses, with a large part of the community, exceed\ngains. Certainly, this is true at all times with a certain portion of\nsociety, but probably at no time with a large portion. There is a\ntendency to great self-deception in all such speculations; and no one\never thinks of bringing them to the only true test--statistical facts.\nThe reader ought, therefore, to pay little attention to the complaints\nin the text, as to an increased extravagance in the expenses of\ntradesmen, and only regard the general recommendation, and the reasons\nby which that recommendation is enforced, to live within income.]\n[20] [There can be little doubt, that the calculation of this\nexperienced gentleman is grossly inconsistent with the truth.\nNevertheless, this part of Defoe's work contains some curious traits of\nmanners, which are probably not exaggerated]\n[21] [Defoe, from his having been employed for several years in Scotland\nat the time of the Union, must have well known how rare was then the use\nof white or wheaten bread in that country.]\nCHAPTER XI\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S MARRYING TOO SOON\nIt was a prudent provision which our ancestors made in the indenture of\ntradesmen's apprentices, that they should not contract matrimony during\ntheir apprenticeship; and they bound it with a penalty that was then\nthought sufficient. However, custom has taken off the edge of it since;\nnamely, that they who did thus contract matrimony should forfeit their\nindentures, that is to say, should lose the benefit of their whole\nservice, and not be made free.\nDoubtless our forefathers were better acquainted with the advantages of\nfrugality than we are, and saw farther into the desperate consequences\nof expensive living in the beginning of a tradesman's setting out into\nthe world than we do; at least, it is evident they studied more and\npractised more of the prudential part in those cases, than we do.\nHence we find them very careful to bind their youth under the strongest\nobligations they could, to temperance, modesty, and good husbandry, as\nthe grand foundations of their prosperity in trade, and to prescribe to\nthem such rules and methods of frugality and good husbandry, as they\nthought would best conduce to their prosperity.\nAmong these rules this was one of the chief--namely, 'that they should\nnot wed before they had sped?' It is an old homely rule, and coarsely\nexpressed, but the meaning is evident, that a young beginner should\nnever marry too soon. While he was a servant, he was bound from it as\nabove; and when he had his liberty, he was persuaded against it by all\nthe arguments which indeed ought to prevail with a considering\nman--namely, the expenses that a family necessarily would bring with it,\nand the care he ought to take to be able to support the expense before\nhe brought it upon himself.\nOn this account it is, I say, our ancestors took more of their youth\nthan we now do; at least, I think, they studied well the best methods of\nthriving, and were better acquainted with the steps by which a young\ntradesman ought to be introduced into the world than we are, and of the\ndifficulties which those people would necessarily involve themselves in,\nwho, despising those rules and methods of frugality, involved themselves\nin the expense of a family before they were in a way of gaining\nsufficient to support it.\nA married apprentice will always make a repenting tradesman; and those\nstolen matches, a very few excepted, are generally attended with\ninfinite broils and troubles, difficulties, and cross events, to carry\nthem on at first by way of intrigue, to conceal them afterwards under\nfear of superiors, to manage after that to keep off scandal, and\npreserve the character as well of the wife as of the husband; and all\nthis necessarily attended with a heavy expense, even before the young\nman is out of his time; before he has set a foot forward, or gotten a\nshilling in the world; so that all this expense is out of his original\nstock, even before he gets it, and is a sad drawback upon him when it\ncomes.\nNay, this unhappy and dirty part is often attended with worse\nconsequences still; for this expense coming upon him while he is but a\nservant, and while his portion, or whatever it is to be called, is not\nyet come into his hand, he is driven to terrible exigencies to supply\nthis expense. If his circumstances are mean, and his trade mean, he is\nfrequently driven to wrong his master, and rob his shop or his till for\nmoney, if he can come at it: and this, as it begins in madness,\ngenerally ends in destruction; for often he is discovered, exposed, and\nperhaps punished, and so the man is undone before he begins. If his\ncircumstances are good, and he has friends that are able, and\nexpectations that are considerable, then his expense is still the\ngreater, and ways and means are found out, or at least looked for, to\nsupply the expense, and conceal the fact, that his friends may not know\nit, till he has gotten the blessing he expects into his hands, and is\nput in a way to stand upon his own legs; and then it comes out, with a\ngreat many grieving aggravations to a parent to find himself tricked and\ndefeated in the expectations of his son's marrying handsomely, and to\nhis advantage; instead of which, he is obliged to receive a dish-clout\nfor a daughter-in-law, and see his family propagated by a race of\nbeggars, and yet perhaps as haughty, as insolent, and as expensive, as\nif she had blessed the family with a lady of fortune, and brought a fund\nwith her to have supported the charge of her posterity.\nWhen this happens, the poor young man's case is really deplorable.\nBefore he is out of his time, he is obliged to borrow of friends, if he\nhas any, on pretence his father does not make him a sufficient\nallowance, or he trenches upon his master's cash, which perhaps, he\nbeing the eldest apprentice, is in his hands; and this he does,\ndepending, that when he is out of his time, and his father gives him\nwherewith to set up, he will make good the deficiency; and all this\nhappens accordingly so that his reputation as to his master is\npreserved, and he comes off clear as to dishonesty in his trust.\nBut what a sad chasm does it make in his fortune! I knew a certain young\ntradesman, whose father, knowing nothing of his son's measures, gave him\n\u00a32000 to set up with, straining himself to the utmost for the well\nintroducing his son into the world; but who, when he came to set up,\nhaving near a year before married the servant-maid of the house where he\nlodged, and kept her privately at a great expense, had above \u00a3600 of his\nstock already wasted and sunk, before he began for himself; the\nconsequence of which was, that going in partner with another young man,\nwho had likewise \u00a32000 to begin with, he was, instead of half of the\nprofits, obliged to make a private article to accept of a third of the\ntrade; and the beggar-wife proving more expensive, by far, than the\npartner's wife (who married afterwards, and doubled his fortune), the\nfirst young man was obliged to quit the trade, and with his remaining\nstock set up by himself; in which case his expenses continuing, and his\nstock being insufficient, he sank gradually, and then broke, and died\npoor. In a word, he broke the heart of his father, wasted what he had,\nand could never recover it, and at last it broke his own heart too.\nBut I shall bring it a little farther. Suppose the youth not to act so\ngrossly neither; not to marry in his apprenticeship, not to be forced to\nkeep a wife privately, and eat the bread he never got; but suppose him\nto be entered upon the world, that he has set up, opened shop, or fitted\nup his warehouse, and is ready to trade, the next thing, in the ordinary\ncourse of the world, at this time is _a wife_; nay, I have met with some\nparents, who have been indiscreet enough themselves to prompt their sons\nto marry as soon as they are set up; and the reason they give for it is,\nthe wickedness of the age, that youth are drawn in a hundred ways to\nruinous matches or debaucheries, and are so easily ruined by the mere\nlooseness of their circumstances, that it is needful to marry them to\nkeep them at home, and to preserve them diligent, and bind them close to\ntheir business.\nThis, be it just or not, is a bad cure of an ill disease; it is ruining\nthe young man to make him sober, and making him a slave for life to make\nhim diligent. Be it that the wife he shall marry is a sober, frugal,\nhousewifely woman, and that nothing is to be laid to her charge but the\nmere necessary addition of a family expense, and that with the utmost\nmoderation, yet, at the best, he cripples his fortune, stock-starves his\nbusiness, and brings a great expense upon himself at first, before, by\nhis success in trade, he had laid up stock enough to support the charge.\nFirst, it is reasonable to suppose, that at his beginning in the world\nhe cannot expect to get so good a portion with a wife, as he might after\nhe had been set up a few years, and by his diligence and frugality,\njoined to a small expense in house-keeping, had increased both his stock\nin trade and the trade itself; then he would be able to look forward\nboldly, and would have some pretence for insisting on a fortune, when he\ncould make out his improvements in trade, and show that he was both\nable to maintain a wife, and able to live without her. When a young\ntradesman in Holland or Germany goes a-courting, I am told the first\nquestion the young woman asks of him, or perhaps her friends for her,\nis, 'Are you able to pay the charges?' that is to say, in English, 'Are\nyou able to keep a wife when you have got her?' The question is a little\nGothic indeed, and would be but a kind of gross way of receiving a lover\nhere, according to our English good breeding; but there is a great deal\nof reason in the inquiry, that must be confessed; and he that is not\nable to _pay the charges_, should never begin the journey; for, be the\nwife what she will, the very state of life that naturally attends the\nmarrying a woman, brings with it an expense so very considerable, that a\ntradesman ought to consider very well of it before he engages.\nBut it is to be observed, too, that abundance of young tradesmen,\nespecially in England, not only marry early, but by the so marrying they\nare obliged to take up with much less fortunes in their haste, than when\nthey allow themselves longer time of consideration. As it stands now,\ngenerally speaking, the wife and the shop make their first show\ntogether; but how few of these early marriages succeed--how hard such a\ntradesman finds it to stand, and support the weight that attends it--I\nappeal to the experience of those, who having taken this wrong step, and\nbeing with difficulty got over it, are yet good judges of that\nparticular circumstance in others that come after them.[22]\nI know it is a common cry that is raised against the woman, when her\nhusband fails in business, namely, that it is the wife has ruined him;\nit is true, in some particular cases it may be so, but in general it is\nwrong placed--they may say marrying has ruined the man, when they cannot\nsay his wife has done it, for the woman was not in fault, but her\nhusband.\nWhen a tradesman marries, there are necessary consequences, I mean of\nexpenses, which the wife ought not be charged with, and cannot be made\naccountable for--such as, first, furnishing the house; and let this be\ndone with the utmost plainness, so as to be decent; yet it must be done,\nand this calls for ready money, and that ready money by so much\ndiminishes his stock in trade; nor is the wife at all to be charged in\nthis case, unless she either put him to more charge than was needful, or\nshowed herself dissatisfied with things needful, and required\nextravagant gaiety and expense. Secondly, servants, if the man was\nfrugal before, it may be he shifted with a shop, and a servant in it, an\napprentice, or journeyman, or perhaps without one at first, and a\nlodging for himself, where he kept no other servant, and so his expenses\nwent on small and easy; or if he was obliged to take a house because of\nhis business and the situation of his shop, he then either let part of\nthe house out to lodgers, keeping himself a chamber in it, or at the\nworst left it unfurnished, and without any one but a maid-servant to\ndress his victuals, and keep the house clean; and thus he goes on when a\nbachelor, with a middling expense at most.\nBut when he brings home a wife, besides the furnishing his house, he\nmust have a formal house-keeping, even at the very first; and as\nchildren come on, more servants, that is, maids, or nurses, that are as\nnecessary as the bread he eats--especially if he multiplies apace, as he\nought to suppose he may--in this case let the wife be frugal and\nmanaging, let her be unexceptionable in her expense, yet the man finds\nhis charge mount high, and perhaps too high for his gettings,\nnotwithstanding the additional stock obtained by her portion. And what\nis the end of this but inevitable decay, and at last poverty and ruin?\nNay, the more the woman is blameless, the more certain is his overthrow,\nfor if it was an expense that was extravagant and unnecessary, and that\nhis wife ran him out by her high living and gaiety, he might find ways\nto retrench, to take up in time, and prevent the mischief that is in\nview. A woman may, with kindness and just reasoning, be easily\nconvinced, that her husband cannot maintain such an expense as she now\nlives at; and let tradesmen say what they will, and endeavour to excuse\nthemselves as much as they will, by loading their wives with the blame\nof their miscarriage, as I have known some do, and as old father Adam,\nthough in another case, did before them, I must say so much in the\nwoman's behalf at a venture. It will be very hard to make me believe\nthat any woman, that was not fit for Bedlam, if her husband truly and\ntimely represented his case to her, and how far he was or was not able\nto maintain the expense of their way of living, would not comply with\nher husband's circumstances, and retrench her expenses, rather than go\non for a while, and come to poverty and misery. Let, then, the tradesman\nlay it early and seriously before his wife, and with kindness and\nplainness tell her his circumstances, or never let him pretend to charge\nher with being the cause of his ruin. Let him tell her how great his\nannual expense is; for a woman who receives what she wants as she wants\nit, that only takes it with one hand, and lays it out with another, does\nnot, and perhaps cannot, always keep an account, or cast up how much it\ncomes to by the year. Let her husband, therefore, I say, tell her\nhonestly how much his expense for her and himself amounts to yearly; and\ntell her as honestly, that it is too much for him, that his income in\ntrade will not answer it; that he goes backward, and the last year his\nfamily expenses amounted to so much, say \u00a3400--for that is but an\nordinary sum now for a tradesman to spend, whatever it has been esteemed\nformerly--and that his whole trade, though he made no bad debts, and had\nno losses, brought him in but \u00a3320 the whole year, so that he was \u00a380\nthat year a worse man than he was before, that this coming year he had\nmet with a heavy loss already, having had a shopkeeper in the country\nbroke in his debt \u00a3200, and that he offered but eight shillings in the\npound, so that he should lose \u00a3120 by him, and that this, added to the\n\u00a380 run out last year, came to \u00a3200, and that if they went on thus, they\nshould be soon reduced.\nWhat could the woman say to so reasonable a discourse, if she was a\nwoman of any sense, but to reply, she would do any thing that lay in her\nto assist him, and if her way of living was too great for him to\nsupport, she would lessen it as he should direct, or as much as he\nthought was reasonable?--and thus, going hand in hand, she and he\ntogether abating what reason required, they might bring their expenses\nwithin the compass of their gettings, and be able to go on again\ncomfortably.\nBut now, when the man, finding his expenses greater than his income, and\nyet, when he looks into those expenses, finds that his wife is frugal\ntoo, and industrious, and applies diligently to the managing her family,\nand bringing up her children, spends nothing idly, saves every thing\nthat can be saved; that instead of keeping too many servants, is a\nservant to every body herself; and that, in short, when he makes the\nstrictest examination, finds she lays out nothing but what is absolutely\nnecessary, what now must this man do? He is ruined inevitably--for all\nhis expense is necessary; there is no retrenching, no abating any thing.\nThis, I say, is the worst case of the two indeed; and this man, though\nhe may say he is undone by marrying, yet cannot blame the woman, and say\nhe is undone by his wife. This is the very case I am speaking of; the\nman should not have married so soon; he should have staid till he had,\nby pushing on his trade, and living close in his expense, increased his\nstock, and been what we call beforehand in the world; and had he done\nthus, he had not been undone by marrying.\nIt is a little hard to say it, but in this respect it is very true,\nthere is many a young tradesman ruined by marrying a good wife--in\nwhich, pray take notice that I observe my own just distinction: I do\nnot say they are ruined or undone by a good wife, or by their wives\nbeing good, but by their marrying--their unseasonable, early, and hasty\nmarrying--before they had cast up the cost of one, or the income of the\nother--before they had inquired into the necessary charge of a wife and\na family, or seen the profits of their business, whether it would\nmaintain them or no; and whether, as above, they could pay the charges,\nthe increasing necessary charge, of a large and growing family. How to\npersuade young men to consider this in time, and beware and avoid the\nmischief of it, that is a question by itself.\nLet no man, then, when he is brought to distress by this early rashness,\nturn short upon his wife, and reproach her with being the cause of his\nruin, unless, at the same time, he can charge her with extravagant\nliving, needless expense, squandering away his money, spending it in\ntrifles and toys, and running him out till the shop could not maintain\nthe kitchen, much less the parlour; nor even then, unless he had given\nher timely notice of it, and warned her that he was not able to maintain\nso large a family, or so great an expense, and that, therefore, she\nwould do well to consider of it, and manage with a straiter hand, and\nthe like. If, indeed, he had done so, and she had not complied with him,\nthen she had been guilty, and without excuse too; but as the woman\ncannot judge of his affairs, and he sees and bears a share in the\nriotous way of their living, and does not either show his dislike of it,\nor let her know, by some means or other, that he cannot support it, the\nwoman cannot be charged with being his ruin--no, though her way of\nextravagant expensive living were really the cause of it. I met with a\nshort dialogue, the other day, between a tradesman and his wife, upon\nsuch a subject as this, some part of which may be instructing in the\ncase before us.\nThe tradesman was very melancholy for two or three days, and had\nappeared all that time to be pensive and sad, and his wife, with all her\narts, entreaties, anger, and tears, could not get it out of him; only\nnow and then she heard him fetch a deep sigh, and at another time say,\nhe wished he was dead, and the like expressions. At last, she began the\ndiscourse with him in a respectful, obliging manner, but with the utmost\nimportunity to get it out of him, thus:--\n_Wife_.--My dear, what is the matter with you?\n_Husb._--Nothing.\n_Wife_.--Nay, don't put me off with an answer that signifies nothing;\ntell me what is the matter, for I am sure something extraordinary is the\ncase--tell me, I say, do tell me. [_Then she kisses him._]\n_Husb._--Prithee, don't trouble me.\n_Wife_.--I will know what is the matter\n_Husb._--I tell you nothing is the matter--what should be the matter?\n_Wife_.--Come, my dear, I must not be put off so; I am sure, if it be\nany thing ill, I must have my share of it; and why should I not be\nworthy to know it, whatever it is, before it comes upon me.\n_Husb._--Poor woman! [_He kisses her_.]\n_Wife_.--Well, but let me know what it is; come, don't distract yourself\nalone; let me bear a share of your grief, as well as I have shared in\nyour joy.\n_Husb._--My dear, let me alone, you trouble me now, indeed.\n_[Still he keeps her off_.]\n_Wife_.--Then you will not trust your wife with knowing what touches you\nso sensibly?\n_Husb._--I tell you, it is nothing, it is a trifle, it is not worth\ntalking of.\n_Wife_.--Don't put me off with such stuff as that; I tell you, it is not\nfor nothing that you have been so concerned, and that so long too; I\nhave seen it plain enough; why, you have drooped upon it for this\nfortnight past, and above.\n_Husb._--Ay, this twelvemonth, and more.\n_Wife_.--Very well, and yet it is nothing.\n_Husb._--It is nothing that you can help me in.\n_Wife_.--Well, but how do you know that? Let me see, and judge whether I\ncan, or no.\n_Husb._--I tell you, you cannot.\n_Wife_.--Sure it is some terrible thing then. Why must not I know it?\nWhat! are you going to break? Come, tell me the worst of it.\n_Husb._--Break! no, no, I hope not--Break! no, I'll never break.\n_Wife_.--As good as you have broke; don't presume; no man in trade can\nsay he won't break.\n_Husb._--Yes, yes; I can say I won't break.\n_Wife_.--I am glad to hear it; I hope you have a knack, then, beyond\nother tradesmen.\n_Husb._--No, I have not neither; any man may say so as well as I; and no\nman need break, if he will act the part of an honest man.\n_Wife_.--How is that, pray?\n_Husb._--Why, give up all faithfully to his creditors, as soon as he\nfinds there is a deficiency in his stock, and yet that there is enough\nleft to pay them.\n_Wife_.--Well, I don't understand those things, but I desire you would\ntell me what it is troubles you now; and if it be any thing of that\nkind, yet I think you should let me know it.\n_Husb._--Why should I trouble you with it?\n_Wife_.--It would be very unkind to let me know nothing till it comes\nand swallows you up and me too, all on a sudden; I must know it, then;\npray tell it me now.\n_Husb._--Why, then, I will tell you; indeed, I am not going to break,\nand I hope I am in no danger of it, at least not yet.\n_Wife_.--I thank you, my dear, for that; but still, though it is some\nsatisfaction to me to be assured of so much, yet I find there is\nsomething in it; and your way of speaking is ambiguous and doubtful. I\nentreat you, be plain and free with me. What is at the bottom of\nit?--why won't you tell me?--what have I done, that I am not to be\ntrusted with a thing that so nearly concerns me?\n_Husb._--I have told you, my dear; pray be easy; I am not going to\nbreak, I tell you.\n_Wife_.--Well, but let us talk a little more seriously of it; you are\nnot going to break, that is, not just now, not yet, you said; but, my\ndear, if it is then not just at hand, but may happen, or is in view at\nsome distance, may not some steps be taken to prevent it for the\npresent, and to save us from it at last too.\n_Husb._--What steps could you think of, if that were the case?\n_Wife_.--Indeed it is not much that is in a wife's power, but I am ready\nto do what lies in me, and what becomes me; and first, pray let us live\nlower. Do you think I would live as I do, if I thought your income would\nnot bear it? No, indeed.\n_Husb._--You have touched me in the most sensible part, my dear; you\nhave found out what has been my grief; you need make no further\ninquiries.\n_Wife_.--Was that your grief?--and would you never be so kind to your\nwife as to let her know it?\n_Husb._--How could I mention so unkind a thing to you?\n_Wife_.--Would it not have been more unkind to have let things run on to\ndestruction, and left your wife to the reproach of the world, as having\nruined you by her expensive living?\n_Husb._--That's true, my dear; and it may be I might have spoke to you\nat last, but I could not do it now; it looks so cruel and so hard to\nlower your figure, and make you look little in the eyes of the world,\nfor you know they judge all by outsides, that I could not bear it.\n_Wife_.--It would be a great deal more cruel to let me run on, and be\nreally an instrument to ruin, my husband, when, God knows, I thought I\nwas within the compass of your gettings, and that a great way; and you\nknow you always prompted me to go fine, to treat handsomely, to keep\nmore servants, and every thing of that kind. Could I doubt but that you\ncould afford it very well?\n_Husb._--That's true, but I see it is otherwise now; and though I cannot\nhelp it, I could not mention it to you, nor, for ought I know, should I\never have done it.\n_Wife_.--Why! you said just now you should have done it.\n_Husb._--Ay, at last, perhaps, I might, when things had been past\nrecovery.\n_Wife_.--That is to say, when you were ruined and undone, and could not\nshow your head, I should know it; or when a statute of bankrupt had come\nout, and the creditors had come and turned us out of doors, then I\nshould have known it--that would have been a barbarous sort of kindness.\n_Husb._--What could I do? I could not help it.\n_Wife_.--Just so our old acquaintance G--W--did; his poor wife knew not\none word of it, nor so much as suspected it, but thought him in as\nflourishing circumstances as ever; till on a sudden he was arrested in\nan action for a great sum, so great that he could not find bail, and the\nnext day an execution on another action was served in the house, and\nswept away the very bed from under her; and the poor lady, that brought\nhim \u00a33000 portion, was turned into the street with five small children\nto take care of.\n_Husb._--Her case was very sad, indeed.\n_Wife_.--But was not he a barbarous wretch to her, to let her know\nnothing of her circumstances? She was at the ball but the day before, in\nher velvet suit, and with her jewels on, and they reproach her with it\nevery day.\n_Husb._--She did go too fine, indeed.\n_Wife_.--Do you think she would have done so, if she had known any thing\nof his circumstances?\n_Husb._--It may be not.\n_Wife_.--No, no; she is a lady of too much sense, to allow us to suggest\nit.\n_Husb._--And why did he not let her have some notice of it?\n_Wife_.--Why, he makes the same dull excuse you speak of; he could not\nbear to speak to her of it, and it looked so unkind to do any thing to\nstraiten her, he could not do it, it would break his heart, and the\nlike; and now he has broke her heart.\n_Husb._--I know it is hard to break in upon one's wife in such a manner,\nwhere there is any true kindness and affection; but--\n_Wife_.--But! but what? Were there really a true kindness and affection,\nas is the pretence, it would be quite otherwise; he would not break his\nown heart, forsooth, but chose rather to break his wife's heart! he\ncould not be so cruel to tell her of it, and therefore left her to be\ncruelly and villanously insulted, as she was, by the bailiffs and\ncreditors. Was that his kindness to her?\n_Husb._--Well, my dear, I have not brought you to that, I hope.\n_Wife_.--No, my dear, and I hope you will not; however, you shall not say\nI will not do every thing I can to prevent it; and, if it lies on my\nside, you are safe.\n_Husb._--What will you do to prevent it? Come, let's see, what can you\ndo?\n_Wife_.--Why, first, I keep five maids, you see, and a footman; I shall\nimmediately give three of my maids warning, and the fellow also, and\nsave you that part of the expense.\n_Husb._--How can you do that?--you can't do your business.\n_Wife_.--Yes, yes, there's nobody knows what they can do till they are\ntried; two maids may do all my house-business, and I'll look after my\nchildren myself; and if I live to see them grown a little bigger, I'll\nmake them help one another, and keep but one maid; I hope that will be\none step towards helping it.\n_Husb_.--And what will all your friends and acquaintance, and the world,\nsay to it?\n_Wife_.--Not half so much as they would to see you break, and the world\nbelieve it be by my high living, keeping a house full of servants, and\ndo nothing myself.\n_Husb_.--They will say I am going to break upon your doing thus, and\nthat's the way to make it so.\n_Wife_.--I had rather a hundred should say you were going to break, than\none could say you were really broke already.\n_Husb_.--But it is dangerous to have it talked of, I say.\n_Wife_.--No, no; they will say we are taking effectual ways to prevent\nbreaking.\n_Husb_.--But it will put a slur upon yourself too. I cannot bear any\nmortifications upon you, any more than I can upon myself.\n_Wife_.--Don't tell me of mortifications; it would be a worse\nmortification, a thousand times over, to have you ruined, and have your\ncreditors insult me with being the occasion of it.\n_Husb_.--It is very kind in you, my dear, and I must always acknowledge\nit; but, however, I would not have you straiten yourself too much\nneither.\n_Wife_.--Nay, this will not be so much a mortification as the natural\nconsequence of other things; for, in order to abate the expense of our\nliving, I resolve to keep less company. I assure you I will lay down all\nthe state of living, as well as the expense of it; and, first, I will\nkeep no visiting days; secondly, I'll drop the greatest part of the\nacquaintance I have; thirdly, I will lay down our treats and\nentertainments, and the like needless occasions of expense, and then I\nshall have no occasion for so many maids.\n_Husb_.--But this, my dear, I say, will make as much noise almost, as if\nI were actually broke.\n_Wife_.--No, no; leave that part to me.\n_Husb_.--But you may tell me how you will manage it then.\n_Wife_.--Why, I'll go into the country.\n_Husb_.--That will but bring them after you, as it used to do.\n_Wife_.--But I'll put off our usual lodgings at Hampstead, and give out\nthat I am gone to spend the summer in Bedfordshire, at my aunt's, where\nevery body knows I used to go sometimes; they can't come after me\nthither.\n_Husb_.--But when you return, they will all visit you.\n_Wife_.--Yes, and I will make no return to all those I have a mind to\ndrop, and there's an end of all their acquaintance at once.\n_Husb_.--And what must I do?\n_Wife_.--Nay, my dear, it is not for me to direct that part; you know\nhow to cure the evil which you sensibly feel the mischief of. If I do my\npart, I don't doubt you know how to do yours.\n_Husb_.--Yes, I know, but it is hard, very hard.\n_Wife_.--Nay, I hope it is no harder for you than it is for your wife.\n_Husb_.--That is true, indeed, but I'll see.\n_Wife_.--The question to me is not whether it is hard, but whether it is\nnecessary.\n_Husb_.--Nay, it is necessary, that is certain.\n_Wife_.--Then I hope it is as necessary to you as to your wife.\n_Husb_.--I know not where to begin.\n_Wife_.--Why, you keep two horses and a groom, you keep rich high\ncompany, and you sit long at the Fleece every evening. I need say no\nmore; you know where to begin well enough.\n_Husb_.--It is very hard; I have not your spirit, my dear.\n_Wife_.--I hope you are not more ashamed to retrench, than you would be\nto have your name in the Gazette.\n_Husb_.--It is sad work to come down hill thus.\n_Wife_.--It would be worse to fall down at one blow from the top; better\nslide gently and voluntarily down the smooth part, than to be pushed\ndown the precipice, and be dashed all in pieces.\nThere was more of this dialogue, but I give the part which I think most\nto the present purpose; and as I strive to shorten the doctrine, so I\nwill abridge the application also; the substance of the case lies in a\nfew particulars, thus:--\nI. The man was melancholy, and oppressed with the thoughts of his\ndeclining circumstances, and yet had not any thought of letting his wife\nknow it, whose way of living was high and expensive, and more than he\ncould support; but though it must have ended in ruin, he would rather\nlet it have gone on till she was surprised in it, than to tell her the\ndanger that was before her.\nHis wife very well argues the injustice and unkindness of such usage,\nand how hard it was to a wife, who, being of necessity to suffer in the\nfall, ought certainly to have the most early notice of it--that, if\npossible, she might prevent it, or, at least, that she might not be\noverwhelmed with the suddenness and the terror of it.\nII. Upon discovering it to his wife, or rather her drawing the\ndiscovery from him by her importunity, she immediately, and most\nreadily and cheerfully, enters into measures to retrench her expenses,\nand, as far as she was able, to prevent the blow, which was otherwise\napparent and unavoidable.\nHence it is apparent, that the expensive living of most tradesmen in\ntheir families, is for want of a serious acquainting their wives with\ntheir circumstances, and acquainting them also in time; for there are\nvery few ladies so unreasonable, who, if their husbands seriously\ninformed them how things stood with them, and that they could not\nsupport their way of living, would not willingly come into measures to\nprevent their own destruction.\nIII. That it is in vain, as well as unequal, for a tradesman to preach\nfrugality to his wife, and to bring his wife to a retrenching of her\nexpenses, and not at the same time to retrench his own; seeing that\nkeeping horses and high company is every way as great and expensive, and\nas necessary to be abated, as any of the family extravagances, let them\nbe which they will.\nAll this relates to the duty of a tradesman in preventing his family\nexpenses being ruinous to his business; but the true method to prevent\nall this, and never to let it come so far, is still, as I said before,\nnot to marry too soon; not to marry, till by a frugal industrious\nmanagement of his trade in the beginning, he has laid a foundation for\nmaintaining a wife, and bringing up a family, and has made an essay by\nwhich he knows what he can and cannot do, and also before he has laid up\nand increased his stock, that he may not cripple his fortune at first,\nand be ruined before he has begun to thrive.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[22] [Defoe's views on the subject of the too early marrying of young\ntradesmen, are in every particular sound. Though there are instances of\npremature marriages followed by no evil result, but rather the contrary,\nthere can be no doubt, that the only prudent course is to wait till a\nsettlement in life, and a regular income, have been secured. A young\nman, anxious for other reasons to marry, is sometimes heard to express\nhis conviction that he might live more cheaply married than single.\nThere could be no assertion more inconsistent with all common\nexperience. Even if no positively ruinous consequences arise from an\nover-early marriage, it almost always occasions much hardship. It\nsaddens a period of life which nature has designed to be peculiarly\ncheerful. The whole life of such a man becomes like a year in which\nthere has been no May or June. The grave cares of matrimony do not\nappear to be naturally suitable to the human character, till the man has\napproached his thirtieth, and the woman her twenty-fourth year.]\nCHAPTER XII\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S LEAVING HIS BUSINESS TO SERVANTS\nIt is the ordinary excuse of the gentlemen tradesmen of our times, that\nthey have good servants, and that therefore they take more liberty to be\nout of their business, than they would otherwise do. 'Oh!' says the\nshopkeeper, 'I have an apprentice--it is an estate to have such a\nservant. I am as safe in him as if I had my eye upon the business from\nmorning till night; let me be where I will, I am always satisfied he is\nat home; if I am at the tavern, I am sure he is in the counting-house,\nor behind the counter; he is never out of his post.\n'And then for my other servants, the younger apprentices,' says he, 'it\nis all one as if I were there myself--they would be idle it may be, but\nhe won't let them, I assure you; they must stick close to it, or he will\nmake them do it; he tells them, boys do not come apprentices to play,\nbut to work; not to sit idle, and be doing nothing, but to mind their\nmaster's business, that they may learn how to do their own.'\n'Very well; and you think, Sir, this young man being so much in the\nshop, and so diligent and faithful, is an estate to you, and so indeed\nit is; but are your customers as well pleased with this man, too, as you\nare? or are they as well pleased with him, as they would be, if you were\nthere yourself?'\n'Yes, they are,' says the shopkeeper; 'nay, abundance of the customers\ntake him for the master of the shop, and don't know any other; and he is\nso very obliging, and pleases so well, giving content to every body,\nthat, if I am at any other part of the shop, and see him serving a\ncustomer, I never interrupt them, unless sometimes (he is so modest) he\nwill call me, and turning to the ladies say, \"There's my master, Madam;\nif you think he will abate you any thing, I'll call him;\" and sometimes\nthey will look a little surprised, and say, \"Is that your master?\nindeed, we thought you had been the master of the shop yourself.\"'\n'Well,' said I, 'and you think yourself very happy in all this, don't\nyou? Pray, how long has this young gentleman to serve? how long is it\nbefore his time will be out?' 'Oh, he has almost a year and a half to\nserve,' says the shopkeeper. 'I hope, then,' said I, 'you will take care\nto have him knocked on the head, as soon as his time is out.' 'God\nforbid,' says the honest man; 'what do you mean by that?' 'Mean!' said\nI, 'why, if you don't, he will certainly knock your trade on the head,\nas soon as the year and a half comes to be up. Either you must dispose\nof him, as I say, or take care that he does not set up near you, no, not\nin the same street; if you do, your customers will all run thither. When\nthey miss him in the shop, they will presently inquire for him; and as,\nyou say, they generally take him for the master, they will ask whether\nthe gentleman is removed that kept the shop before.'\nAll my shopkeeper could say, was, that he had got a salve for that sore,\nand that was, that when Timothy was out of his time, he resolved to take\nhim in partner.\n'A very good thing, indeed! so you must take Timothy into half the trade\nwhen he is out of his time, for fear he should run away with\nthree-quarters of it, when he sets up for himself. But had not the\nmaster much better have been Timothy himself?--then he had been sure\nnever to have the customers take Timothy for the master; and when he\nwent away, and set up perhaps at next door, leave the shop, and run\nafter him.'\nIt is certain, a good servant, a faithful, industrious, obliging\nservant, is a blessing to a tradesman, and, as he said, is an estate to\nhis master; but the master, by laying the stress of his business upon\nhim, divests himself of all the advantages of such a servant, and turns\nthe blessing into a blast; for by giving up the shop as it were to him,\nand indulging himself in being abroad, and absent from his business, the\napprentice gets the mastery of the business, the fame of the shop\ndepends upon him, and when he sets up, certainly follows him. Such a\nservant would, with the master's attendance too, be very helpful, and\nyet not be dangerous; such a servant is well, when he is visibly an\nassistant to the master, but is ruinous when he is taken for the master.\nThere is a great deal of difference between a servant's being the stay\nof his master, and his being the stay of his trade: when he is the\nfirst, the master is served by him; and when he is gone, he breeds up\nanother to follow his steps; but when he is the last, he carries the\ntrade with him, and does his master infinitely more hurt than good.\nA good tradesman has a great deal of trouble with a bad servant, but\nmust take heed that he is not wounded by a good one--the extravagant\nidle vagrant servant hurts himself, but the diligent servant endangers\nhis master. The greater reputation the servant gets in his business, the\nmore care the master has upon him, lest he gets within him, and worms\nhim out of his business.\nThe only way to prevent this, and yet not injure a diligent servant, is\nthat the master be as diligent as the servant; that the master be as\nmuch at the shop as the man. He that will keep in his business, need\nnever fear keeping his business, let his servant be as diligent as he\nwill. It is a hard thing that a tradesman should have the blessing of a\ngood servant, and make it a curse to him, by his appearing less capable\nthan his man.\nLet your apprentice be in the business, but let the master be at the\nhead of the business at all times. There is a great deal of difference\nbetween being diligent in the business _in_ the shop, and leading the\nwhole business _of_ the shop. An apprentice who is diligent may be\nmaster of his business, but should never be master of the shop; the one\nis to be useful to his master, the other is to be master of his master;\nand, indeed, this shows the absolute necessity of diligence and\napplication in a tradesman, and how, for want of it, that very thing\nwhich is the blessing of another tradesman's business is the ruin of\nhis.\nServants, especially apprentices, ought to be considered, as they really\nare, in their moveable station, that they are here with you but seven\nyears, and that then they act or move in a sphere or station of their\nown: their diligence is now for you, but ever after it is for\nthemselves; that the better servants they have been while they were with\nyou, the more dangerous they will be to you when you part; that,\ntherefore, though you are bound in justice to them to let them into your\nbusiness in every branch of it, yet you are not bound to give your\nbusiness away to them; the diligence, therefore, of a good servant in\nthe master's business, should be a spur to the master's diligence to\ntake care of himself.\nThere is a great deal of difference also between trusting a servant in\nyour business, and trusting him with your business: the first is leaving\nyour business with him, the other is leaving your business to him. He\nthat trusts a servant in his business, leaves his shop only to him; but\nhe that leaves his business to his servant, leaves his wife and children\nat his disposal--in a word, such a trusting, or leaving the business to\nthe servant, is no less than a giving up all to him, abandoning the care\nof his shop and all his affairs to him; and when such a servant is out\nof his time, the master runs a terrible risk, such as, indeed, it is not\nfit any tradesman should run--namely, of losing the best of his\nbusiness.\nWhat I have been now saying, is of the tradesman leaving his business to\nhis apprentices and servants, when they prove good, when they are honest\nand diligent, faithful, and industrious; and if there are dangers even\nin trusting good servants, and such as do their duty perfectly well,\nwhat, then, must it be when the business is left to idle, negligent, and\nextravagant servants, who both neglect their masters' business and their\nown, who neither learn their trade for themselves, nor regard it for the\ninterest of their masters? If the first are a blessing to their masters,\nand may only be made dangerous by their carrying away the trade with\nthem when they go, these are made curses to their masters early, for\nthey lose the trade for themselves and their masters too. The first\ncarry the customers away with them, the last drive the customers away\nbefore they go. 'What signifies going to such a shop?' say the ladies,\neither speaking of a mercer or a draper, or any other trade; 'there is\nnothing to be met with there but a crew of saucy boys, that are always\nat play when you come in, and can hardly refrain it when you are there:\none hardly ever sees a master in the shop, and the young rude boys\nhardly mind you when you are looking on their goods; they talk to you as\nif they cared not whether you laid out your money or no, and as if they\nhad rather you were gone, that they might go to play again. I will go\nthere no more, not I.'\nIf this be not the case, then you are in danger of worse still, and that\nis, that they are often thieves--idle ones are seldom honest ones--nay,\nthey cannot indeed be honest, in a strict sense, if they are idle: but\nby dishonest, I mean downright thieves; and what is more dangerous than\nfor an apprentice, to whom the whole business, the cash, the books, and\nall is committed, to be a thief?\nFor a tradesman, therefore, to commit his business thus into the hand of\na false, a negligent, and a thievish servant, is like a man that travels\na journey, and takes a highwayman into the coach with him: such a man is\nsure to be robbed, and to be fully and effectually plundered, because he\ndiscovers where he hides his treasure. Thus the tradesman places his\nconfidence in the thief, and how should he avoid being robbed?\nIt is answered, that, generally tradesmen, who have any considerable\ntrust to put into the hands of an apprentice, take security of them for\ntheir honesty by their friends, when their indentures are signed; and it\nis their fault then, if they are not secure. True, it is often so; but\nin a retail business, if the servant be unfaithful, there are so many\nways to defraud a master, besides that of merely not balancing the cash,\nthat it is impossible to detect them; till the tradesman, declining\ninsensibly by the weight of the loss, is ruined and undone.\nWhat need, then, has the tradesman to give a close attendance, and\npreserve himself from plunder, by acquainting himself in and with his\nbusiness and servants, by which he makes it very difficult for them to\ndeceive him, and much easier to him to discover it if he suspects them.\nBut if the tradesman lives abroad, keeps at his country-house or\nlodgings, and leaves his business thus in the hands of his servants,\ncommitting his affairs to them, as is often the case; if they prove\nthieves, negligent, careless, and idle, what is the consequence?--he is\ninsensibly wronged, his substance wasted, his business neglected; and\nhow shall a tradesman thrive under such circumstances? Nay, how is it\npossible he should avoid ruin and destruction?--I mean, as to his\nbusiness; for, in short, every such servant has his hand in his master's\npocket, and may use him as he pleases.\nAgain, if they are not thieves, yet if they are idle and negligent, it\nis, in some cases, the same thing; and I wish it were well recommended\nto all such servants as call themselves honest, that it is as criminal\nto neglect their master's business as to rob him; and he is as really a\nthief who robs him of his time, as he that robs him of his money.\nI know, as servants are now, this is a principle they will not allow,\nneither does one servant in fifty act by it; but if the master be\nabsent, the servant is at his heels--that is to say, is as soon out of\ndoors as his master, and having none but his conscience to answer to, he\nmakes shift to compound with himself, like a bankrupt with his creditor,\nto pay half the debt--that is to say, half the time to his master, and\nhalf to himself, and think it good pay too.\nThe point of conscience, indeed, seems to be out of the question now,\nbetween master and servant; and as few masters concern themselves with\nthe souls, nay, scarce with the morals of their servants, either to\ninstruct them, or inform them of their duty either to God or man, much\nless to restrain them by force, or correct them, as was anciently\npractised, so, few servants concern themselves in a conscientious\ndischarge of their duty to their masters--so that the great law of\nsubordination is destroyed, and the relative duties on both sides are\nneglected; all which, as I take it, is owing to the exorbitant sums of\nmoney which are now given with servants to the masters, as the present\nor condition of their apprenticeship, which, as it is extravagant in\nitself, so it gives the servant a kind of a different figure in the\nfamily, places him above the ordinary class of servants hired for wages,\nand exempts him from all the laws of family government, so that a master\nseems now to have nothing to do with his apprentice, any other than in\nwhat relates to his business.\nAnd as the servant knows this, so he fails not to take the advantage of\nit, and to pay no more service than he thinks is due; and the hours of\nhis shop business being run out, he claims all the rest for himself,\nwithout the above restraint. Nor will the servants, in these times, bear\nany examinations with respect to the disposing of their waste time, or\nwith respect to the company they keep, or the houses or places they go\nto.\nThe use I make of it is this, and herein it is justly applicable to the\ncase in hand; by how much the apprentices and servants in this age are\nloose, wild, and ungovernable, by so much the more should a master think\nhimself obliged not to depend upon them, much less to leave his business\nto them, and dispense with his own attendance in it. If he does, he must\nhave much better luck then his neighbours, if he does not find himself\nvery much wronged and abused, seeing, as I said above, the servants and\napprentices of this age do very rarely act from a principle of\nconscience in serving their master's interest, which, however, I do not\nsee they can be good Christians without.\nI knew one very considerable tradesman in this city, and who had always\nfive or six servants in his business, apprentices and journeymen, who\nlodged in his house; and having a little more the spirit of government\nin him than most masters I now meet with, he took this method with them.\nWhen he took apprentices, he told them beforehand the orders of his\nfamily, and which he should oblige them to; particularly, that they\nshould none be absent from his business without leave, nor out of the\nhouse after nine o'clock at night; and that he would not have it thought\nhard, if he exacted three things of them:--\n1. That, if they had been out, he should ask them where they had been,\nand in what company? and that they should give him a true and direct\nanswer.\n2. That, if he found reason to forbid them keeping company with any\nparticular person, or in any particular house or family, they should be\nobliged to refrain from such company.\n3. That, in breach of any of those two, after being positively charged\nwith it, he would, on their promising to amend it, forgive them, only\nacquainting their friends of it; but the second time, he would dismiss\nthem his service, and not be obliged to return any of the money he had\nwith them. And to these he made their parents consent when they were\nbound; and yet he had large sums of money with them too, not less than\n\u00a3200 each, and sometimes more.\nAs to his journeymen, he conditioned with them as follows:--\n1. They should never dine from home without leave asked and obtained,\nand telling where, if required.\n2. After the shutting in of the shop, they were at liberty to go where\nthey pleased, only not to be out of the house after nine o'clock at\nnight.\n3. Never to be in drink, or to swear, on pain of being immediately\ndismissed without the courtesy usual with such servants, namely, of a\nmonth's warning.\nThese were excellent household laws; but the question is, how shall a\nmaster see them punctually obeyed, for the life of all laws depends upon\ntheir being well executed; and we are famous in England for being remiss\nin that very point; and that we have the best laws the worst executed of\nany nation in the world.\nBut my friend was a man who knew as well how to make his laws be well\nexecuted, as he did how to make the laws themselves. His case was thus:\nhe kept a country-house about two miles from London, in the summer-time,\nfor the air of his wife and children, and there he maintained them very\ncomfortably: but it was a rule with him, that he who expects his\nservants to obey his orders, must be always upon the spot with them to\nsee it done: to this purpose he confined himself to lie always at home,\nthough his family was in the country; and every afternoon he walked out\nto see them, and to give himself the air too; but always so ordered his\ndiversions, that he was sure to be at home before nine at night, that he\nmight call over his family, and see that they observed orders, that is,\nthat they were all at home at their time, and all sober.\nAs this was, indeed, the only way to have good servants, and an orderly\nfamily, so he had both; but it was owing much, if not all, to the\nexactness of his government; and would all masters take the same method,\nI doubt not they would have the like success; but what servants can a\nman expect when he leaves them to their own government, not regarding\nwhether they serve God or the devil?\nNow, though this man had a very regular family, and very good servants,\nyet he had this particular qualification, too, for a good tradesman,\nnamely, that he never left his business entirely to them, nor could any\nof them boast that they were trusted to more than another.\nThis is certainly the way to have regular servants and to have business\nthrive; but this is not practised by one master to a thousand at this\ntime--if it were, we should soon see a change in the families of\ntradesmen, and that very much for the better: nor, indeed, would this\nfamily government be good for the tradesman only, but it would be the\nservant's advantage too; and such a practice, we may say, would in time\nreform all the next age, and make them ashamed of us that went before\nthem.\nIf, then, the morals of servants are thus loose and debauched, and that\nit is a general and epidemic evil, how much less ought tradesmen of this\nage to trust them, and still less to venture their all upon them, leave\ntheir great design, the event of all their business with them, and go\ninto the country in pursuit of their pleasure.\nThe case of tradesmen differs extremely in this age from those in the\nlast, with respect to their apprentices and servants; and the difference\nis all to the disadvantage of the present age, namely, in the last age,\nthat is to say, fifty or sixty years ago, for it is not less, servants\nwere infinitely more under subjection than they are now, and the\nsubordination of mankind extended effectually to them; they were content\nto submit to family government; and the just regulations which masters\nmade in their houses were not scorned and contemned, as they are now;\nfamily religion also had some sway upon them; and if their masters did\nkeep good orders, and preserve the worship of God in their houses, the\napprentices thought themselves obliged to attend at the usual hours for\nsuch services; nay, it has been known, where such orders have been\nobserved, that if the master of the family has been sick, or indisposed,\nor out of town, the eldest apprentice has read prayers to the family in\nhis place.\nHow ridiculous, to speak in the language of the present times, would it\nbe for any master to expect this of a servant in our days! and where is\nthe servant that would comply with it? Nay, it is but very rarely now\nthat masters themselves do it; it is rather thought now to be a low\nstep, and beneath the character of a man in business, as if worshipping\nGod were a disgrace, and not an honour, to a family, or to the master of\na family; and I doubt not but in a little while more, either the worship\nof God will be quite banished out of families, or the better sort of\ntradesmen, and such as have any regard to it, will keep chaplains, as\nother persons of quality do. It is confessed, the first is most\nprobable, though the last, as I am informed, is already begun in the\ncity, in some houses, where the reader of the parish is allowed a small\nadditional salary to come once a-day, namely, every evening, to read\nprayers in the house.\nBut I am not talking on this subject; I am not directing myself to\ncitizens or townsmen, as masters of families, but as heads of trade, and\nmasters in their business; the other part would indeed require a whole\nbook by itself, and would insensibly run me into a long satirical\ndiscourse upon the loss of all family government among us; in which,\nindeed, the practice of house-keepers and heads of families is grown not\nremiss only in all serious things, but even scandalous in their own\nmorals, and in the personal examples they show to their servants, and\nall about them.\nBut to come back to my subject, namely, that the case of tradesmen\ndiffers extremely from what it was formerly: the second head of\ndifference is this; that whereas, in former times, the servants were\nbetter and humbler than they are now, submitted more to family\ngovernment, and to the regulations made by their masters, and masters\nwere more moral, set better examples, and kept better order in their\nhouses, and, by consequence of it, all servants were soberer, and fitter\nto be trusted, than they are now; yet, on the other hand,\nnotwithstanding all their sobriety, masters did not then so much depend\nupon them, leave business to them, and commit the management of their\naffairs so entirely to their servants, as they do now.\nAll that I meet with, which masters have to say to this, is contained in\ntwo heads, and these, in my opinion, amount to very little.\nI. That they have security for their servants' honesty, which in former\ntimes they had not.\nII. That they receive greater premiums, or present-money, now with their\napprentices, than they did formerly.\nThe first of these is of no moment; for, first, it does not appear that\napprentices in those former days gave no security to their masters for\ntheir integrity, which, though perhaps not so generally as now, yet I\nhave good reason to know was then practised among tradesmen of note,\nand is not now among inferior tradesmen: but, secondly, this security\nextends to nothing, but to make the master satisfaction for any\nmisapplications or embezzlements which are discovered, and can be\nproved, but extend to no secret concealed mischiefs: neither, thirdly,\ndo those securities reach to the negligence, idleness, or debaucheries\nof servants; but, which is still more than all the rest, they do not\nreach to the worst of robbery between the servant and his master, I mean\nthe loss of his time; so that still there is as much reason for the\nmaster's inspection, both into his servants and their business, as ever.\nBut least of all does this security reach to make the master any\nsatisfaction for the loss of his business, the ill management of his\nshop, the disreputation brought upon it by being committed to servants,\nand those servants behaving ill, slighting, neglecting, or disobliging\ncustomers; this does not relate to securities given or taken, nor can\nthe master make himself any amends upon his servant, or upon his\nsecurities, for this irrecoverable damage. He, therefore, that will keep\nup the reputation of his shop, or of his business, and preserve his\ntrade to his own advantage, must resolve to attend it himself, and not\nleave it to servants, whether good or bad; if he leaves it to good\nservants, they improve it for themselves, and carry the trade away with\nthem when they go; if to bad servants, they drive his customers away,\nbring a scandal upon his shop, and destroy both their master and\nthemselves.\nSecondly, As to the receiving great premiums with their apprentices,\nwhich, indeed, is grown up to a strange height in this age, beyond\nwhatever it was before, it is an unaccountable excess, which is the ruin\nof more servants at this time than all the other excesses they are\nsubject to, nay, in some respect it is the cause of it all; and, on the\ncontrary, is far from being an equivalent to their masters for the\ndefect of their service, but is an unanswerable reason why the master\nshould not leave his business to their management.\nThis premium was originally not a condition of indenture, but was a kind\nof usual or customary present to the tradesman's wife to engage her to\nbe kind to the youth, and take a motherly care of him, being supposed to\nbe young when first put out.\nBy length of time this compliment or present became so customary as to\nbe made a debt, and to be conditioned for as a demand, but still was\nkept within bounds, and thirty or forty pounds was sufficient to a very\ngood merchant, which now is run up to five hundred, nay, to a thousand\npounds with an apprentice; a thing which formerly would have been\nthought monstrous, and not to be named.\nThe ill consequences of giving these large premiums are such and so\nmany, that it is not to be entered upon in such a small tract as this;\nnor is it the design of this work: but it is thus far to the purpose\nhere--namely, as it shows that this sets up servants into a class of\ngentlemen above their masters, and above their business; and they\nneither have a sufficient regard to one or other, and consequently are\nthe less fit to be trusted by the master in the essential parts of his\nbusiness; and this brings it down to the case in hand.\nUpon the whole, the present state of things between masters and servants\nis such, that now more than ever the caution is needful and just, that\nhe that leaves his business to the management of his servants, it is ten\nto one but he ruins his business and his servants too.\nRuining his business is, indeed, my present subject; but ruining his\nservants also is a consideration that an honest, conscientious master\nought to think is of weight with him, and will concern himself about.\nServants out of government are like soldiers without an officer, fit for\nnothing but to rob and plunder; without order, and without orders, they\nneither know what to do, or are directed how to do it.\nBesides, it is letting loose his apprentices to levity and liberty in\nthat particular critical time of life, when they have the most need of\ngovernment and restraint. When should laws and limits be useful to\nmankind but in their youth, when unlimited liberty is most fatal to\nthem, and when they are least capable of governing themselves? To have\nyouth left without government, is leaving fire in a magazine of powder,\nwhich will certainly blow it all up at last, and ruin all the houses\nthat are near it.\nIf there is any duty on the side of a master to his servant, any\nobligation on him as a Christian, and as a trustee for his parents, it\nlies here--to limit and restrain them, if possible, in the liberty of\ndoing evil; and this is certainly a debt due to the trust reposed in\nmasters by the parents of the youth committed to them. If he is let\nloose here, he is undone, of course, and it may be said, indeed, he was\nruined by his master; and if the master is afterwards ruined by such a\nservant, what can be said for it but this? He could expect no other.\nTo leave a youth without government is indeed unworthy of any honest\nmaster; he cannot discharge himself as a master; for instead of taking\ncare of him he indeed casts him off, abandons him, and, to put it into\nScripture words, he leads him into temptation: nay, he goes farther, to\nuse another Scripture expression: he delivers him over to Satan.\nIt is confessed--and it is fatal both to masters and servants at this\ntime--that not only servants are made haughty, and above the government\nof their masters, and think it below them to submit to any family\ngovernment, or any restraints of their masters, as to their morals and\nreligion; but masters also seem to have given up all family government,\nand all care or concern for the morals and manners, as well as for the\nreligion of their servants, thinking themselves under no obligation to\nmeddle with those things, or to think any thing about them, so that\ntheir business be but done, and their shop or warehouse duly looked\nafter.\nBut to bring it all home to the point in hand, if it is so with the\nmaster and servant, there is the less room still for the master of such\nservants to leave any considerable trust in the hands of such\napprentices, or to expect much from them, to leave the weight of their\naffairs with them, and, living at their country lodgings, and taking\ntheir own diversions, depend upon such servants for the success of their\nbusiness. This is indeed abandoning their business, throwing it away,\nand committing themselves, families, and fortunes, to the conduct of\nthose, who, they have all the reason in the world to believe, have no\nconcern upon them for their good, or care one farthing what becomes of\nthem.\nCHAPTER XIII\nOF TRADESMEN MAKING COMPOSITION WITH DEBTORS, OR WITH CREDITORS\nThere is an alternative in the subject of this chapter, which places the\ndiscourse in the two extremes of a tradesman's fortunes.\nI. The _fortunate tradesman_, called upon by his poor unfortunate\nneighbour, who is his debtor, and is become insolvent, to have\ncompassion on him, and to compound with him for part of his debt, and\naccept his offer in discharge of the whole.\nII. The _unfortunate tradesman_ become insolvent and bankrupt himself,\nand applying himself to his creditor to accept of a composition, in\ndischarge of his debt.\nI must confess, a tradesman, let his circumstances be what they will,\nhas the most reason to consider the disasters of the unfortunate, and be\ncompassionate to them under their pressures and disasters, of any other\nmen; because they know not--no, not the most prosperous of them--what\nmay be their own fate in the world. There is a Scripture proverb, if I\nmay call it so, very necessary to a tradesman in this case, 'Let him\nthat thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall.'\nN.B. It is not said, let him that standeth take heed, but him _that\nthinketh_ he standeth. Men in trade can but think they stand; and there\nare so many incidents in a tradesman's circumstances, that sometimes\nwhen he thinks himself most secure of standing, he is in most danger of\nfalling.\nIf, then, the contingent nature of trade renders every man liable to\ndisaster that is engaged in it, it seems strange that tradesmen should\nbe outrageous and unmerciful to one another when they fall; and yet so\nit is, that no creditor is so furious upon an unhappy insolvent\ntradesman, as a brother-tradesman of his own class, and who is at least\nliable to the same disaster, in the common event of his business.\nNay, I have lived to see--such is the uncertainty of human affairs, and\nespecially in trade--the furious and outrageous creditor become bankrupt\nhimself in a few years, or perhaps months after, and begging the same\nmercy of others, which he but just before denied to his not more\nunfortunate fellow-tradesman, and making the same exclamations at the\ncruelty and hard-heartedness of his creditors in refusing to comply with\nhim, when, at the same time, his own heart must reproach him with his\nformer conduct; how inexorable he was to all the entreaties and tears of\nhis miserable neighbour and his distressed family, who begged his\ncompassion with the lowest submission, who employed friends to solicit\nand entreat for them, laying forth their misery in the most lively\nexpressions, and using all the arguments which the most moving distress\ncould dictate, but in vain.\nThe tradesman is certainly wrong in this, as compassion to the miserable\nis a debt of charity due from all mankind to their fellow-creatures; and\nthough the purse-proud tradesman may be able to say he is above the fear\nof being in the like circumstances, as some may be, yet, even then, he\nmight reflect that perhaps there was a time when he was not so, and he\nought to pay that debt of charity, in acknowledgement of the mercy that\nhas set him above the danger.\nAnd yet, speaking in the ordinary language of men who are subject to\nvicissitudes of fortune, where is the man that is sure he shall meet\nwith no shock? And how have we seen men, who have to-day been immensely\nrich, be to-morrow, as it were, reduced to nothing! What examples were\nmade in this city of such precipitations within the memory of some\nliving, when the Exchequer shutting up ruined the great bankers of\nLombard Street.[23] To what fell Sir Robert Viner--the great Alderman\nBackwell--the three brothers of the name of Forth, of whom King Charles\nII. made that severe pun, that '_Three-fourths_ of the city were broke?'\nTo what have we seen men of prodigious bulk in trade reduced--as Sir\nThomas Cook, Sir Basil Firebrass, Sheppard, Coggs, and innumerable\nbankers, money-scriveners, and merchants, who thought themselves as\nsecure against the shocks of trade, as any men in the world could be?\nNot to instance our late South Sea directors, and others, reduced by the\nterrible fate of bubbles, whose names I omit because they yet live,\nthough sinking still under the oppression of their fortunes, and whose\nweight I would be far from endeavouring to make heavier.\nWhy, then, should any tradesman, presuming on his own security, and of\nhis being out of the reach of disaster, harden his heart against the\nmiseries and distresses of a fellow-tradesman, who sinks, as it were, by\nhis side, and refuse to accept his offer of composition; at least, if he\ncannot object against the integrity of his representations, and cannot\ncharge him with fraud and deceit, breaking with a wicked design to cheat\nand delude his creditors, and to get money by a pretended breach? I say,\nwhy should any tradesman harden his heart in such a case, and not, with\na generous pity, comply with a reasonable and fair proposal, while it is\nto be had?\nI do acknowledge, if there is an evident fraud, if he can detect the\nbankrupt in any wicked design, if he can prove he has effects sufficient\nto pay his debts, and that he only breaks with a purpose to cheat his\ncreditors, and he conceals a part of his estate, when he seems to offer\na sincere surrender; if this be the case, and it can be made appear to\nbe so--for in such a case, too, we ought to be very sure of the\nfact--then, indeed, no favour is due, and really none ought to be shown.\nAnd, therefore, it was a very righteous clause which was inflicted on\nthe fraudulent bankrupt, in a late act of Parliament, namely, that in\ncase he concealed his effects, and that it appeared he had, though upon\nhis oath, not given in a full account of his estate, but willingly and\nknowingly concealed it, or any part of it, with design to defraud his\ncreditors, he should be put to death as a felon: the reason and justice\nof which clause was this, and it was given as the reason of it when the\nact was passed in the House of Commons, namely, that the act was made\nfor the relief of the debtor, as well as of the creditor, and to procure\nfor him a deliverance on a surrender of his effects; but then it was\nmade also for the relief of the creditor, too, that he might have as\nmuch of his debt secured to him as possible, and that he should not\ndischarge the debtor with his estate in his pocket, suffering him to run\naway with his (the creditor's) money before his face.\nAlso it was objected, that the act, without a penalty, would be only an\nact to encourage perjury, and would deliver the hard-mouthed knave that\ncould swear what he pleased, and ruin and reject the modest\nconscientious tradesman, that was willing and ready to give up the\nutmost farthing to his creditors. On this account the clause was\naccepted, and the act passed, which otherwise had been thrown out.\nNow, when the poor insolvent has thus surrendered his all, stript\nhimself entirely upon oath, and that oath taken on the penalty of death\nif it be false, there seems to be a kind of justice due to the bankrupt.\nHe has satisfied the law, and ought to have his liberty given him _as a\nprey_, as the text calls it, Jer. xxxix. 18., that he may try the world\nonce again, and see, if possible, to recover his disasters, and get his\nbread; and it is to be spoken in honour of the justice as well as\nhumanity of that law for delivering bankrupts, that there are more\ntradesmen recover themselves in this age upon their second endeavours,\nand by setting up again after they have thus failed and been delivered,\nthan ever were known to do so in ten times the number of years before.\nTo break, or turn bankrupt, before this, was like a man being taken by\nthe Turks; he seldom recovered liberty to try his fortune again, but\nfrequently languished under the tyranny of the commissioners of\nbankrupt, or in the Mint, or Friars, or rules of the Fleet, till he\nwasted the whole estate, and at length his life, and so his debts were\nall paid at once.\nNor was the case of the creditor much better--I mean as far as\nrespected his debt, for it was very seldom that any considerable\ndividend was made; on the other hand, large contributions were called\nfor before people knew whether it was likely any thing would be made of\nthe debtor's effects or no, and oftentimes the creditor lost his whole\ndebt, contribution-money and all; so that while the debtor was kept on\nthe rack, as above, being held in suspense by the creditors, or by the\ncommissioners, or both, he spent the creditor's effects, and subsisted\nat their expense, till, the estate being wasted, the loss fell heavy on\nevery side, and generally most on those who were least able to bear it.\nBy the present state of things, this evil is indeed altered, and the\nruin of the creditor's effects is better prevented; the bankrupt can no\nmore skulk behind the door of the Mint and Rules, and prevent the\ncommissioners' inspection; he must come forth, be examined, give in an\naccount, and surrender himself and effects too, or fly his country, and\nbe seen here no more; and if he does come in, he must give a full\naccount upon oath, on the penalty of his neck.\nWhen the effects are thus surrendered, the commissioners' proceedings\nare short and summary. The assignees are obliged to make dividends, and\nnot detain the estate in their own hands, as was the case in former\ndays, till sometimes they became bankrupts themselves, so that the\ncreditors are sure now what is put into the hands of the assignees,\nshall in due time, and without the usual delay, be fairly divided. On\nthe other hand, the poor debtor having honestly discharged his part, and\nno objection lying against the sincerity of the discovery, has a\ncertificate granted him, which being allowed by the Lord Chancellor, he\nis a clear man, and may begin the world again, as I have said above.\nThe creditor, being thus satisfied that the debtor has been faithful,\ndoes not answer the end of the act of Parliament, if he declines to\nassent to the debtor's certificate; nor can any creditor decline it, but\non principles which no man cares to own--namely, that of malice, and the\nhighest resentment, which are things a Christian tradesman will not\neasily act upon.\nBut I come now to the other part of the case; and this is supposing a\ndebtor fails, and the creditors do not think fit to take out a\ncommission of bankrupt against him, as sometimes is the case, at least,\nwhere they see the offers of the debtor are any thing reasonable: my\nadvice in such case is (and I speak it from long experience in such\nthings), that they should always accept the first reasonable proposal of\nthe debtor; and I am not in this talking on the foot of charity and\nmercy to the debtor, but of the real and undoubted interest of the\ncreditor; nor could I urge it, by such arguments as I shall bring, upon\nany other foundation; for, if I speak in behalf of the debtor, I must\nargue commiseration to the miserable, compassion and pity of his family,\nand a reflection upon the sad changes which human life exposes us all\nto, and so persuade the creditor to have pity upon not him only, but\nupon all families in distress.\nBut, I say, I argue now upon a different foundation, and insist that it\nis the creditor's true interest, as I hinted before, that if he finds\nthe debtor inclined to be honest, and he sees reason to believe he makes\nthe best offer he can, he should accept the first offer, as being\ngenerally the best the debtor can make;[24] and, indeed, if the debtor\nbe wise as well as honest, he will make it so, and generally it is found\nto be so. And there are, indeed, many reasons why the first offers of\nthe debtor are generally the best, and why no commission of bankrupt\nordinarily raises so much, notwithstanding all its severities, as the\nbankrupt offers before it is sued out--not reckoning the time and\nexpense which, notwithstanding all the new methods, attend such things,\nand are inevitable. For example--\nWhen the debtor, first looking into his affairs, sees the necessity\ncoming upon him of making a stop in trade, and calling his creditors\ntogether, the first thought which by the consequence of the thing comes\nto be considered, is, what offers he can make to them to avoid the\nhaving a commission sued out against him, and to which end common\nprudence, as well as honest principles, move him to make the best offers\nhe can. If he be a man of sense, and, according to what I mentioned in\nanother chapter, has prudently come to a stop in time, before things are\nrun to extremities, and while he has something left to make an offer of\nthat may be considerable, he will seldom meet with creditors so weak or\nso blind to their own interest not to be willing to end it amicably,\nrather than to proceed to a commission. And as this is certainly best\nboth for the debtor and the creditor, so, as I argued with the debtor,\nthat he should be wise enough, as well as honest enough, to break\nbetimes, and that it was infinitely best for his own interest, so I must\nadd, on the other hand, to the creditor, that it is always his interest\nto accept the first offer; and I never knew a commission make more of an\nestate, where the debtor has been honest, than he (the debtor) proposed\nto give them without it.\nIt is true, there are cases where the issuing out a commission may be\nabsolutely necessary. For example--\n1. Where the debtor is evidently knavish, and discovers himself to be\nso, by endeavours to carry off his effects, or alter the property of the\nestate, confessing judgments, or any the usual ways of fraud, which in\nsuch cases are ordinarily practised. Or--\n2. Where some creditors, by such judgments, or by attachments of debts,\ngoods delivered, effects made over, or any other way, have gotten some\nof the estate into their hands, or securities belonging to it, whereby\nthey are in a better state, as to payment, than the rest. Or--\n3. Where some people are brought in as creditors, whose debts there is\nreason to believe are not real, but who place themselves in the room of\ncreditors, in order to receive a dividend for the use of the bankrupt,\nor some of his family.\nIn these, and such like cases, a commission is inevitable, and must be\ntaken out; nor does the man merit to be regarded upon the foot of what I\ncall compassion and commiseration at all, but ought to be treated like a\n_rapparee_,[25] or plunderer, who breaks with a design to make himself\nwhole by the composition; and as many did formerly, who were beggars\nwhen they broke, be made rich by the breach. It was to provide against\nsuch harpies as these that the act of Parliament was made; and the only\nremedy against them is a commission, in which the best thing they can do\nfor their creditors is to come in and be examined, give in a false\naccount upon oath, be discovered, convicted of it, and sent to the\ngallows, as they deserve.\nBut I am speaking of honest men, the reverse of such thieves as these,\nwho being brought into distress by the ordinary calamities of trade, are\nwilling to do the utmost to satisfy their creditors. When such as these\nbreak in the tradesman's debt, let him consider seriously my advice, and\nhe shall find--I might say, he shall _always_ find, but I do affirm, he\nshall _generally_ find--the first offer the best, and that he will never\nlose by accepting it. To refuse it is but pushing the debtor to\nextremities, and running out some of the effects to secure the rest.\nFirst, as to collecting in the debts. Supposing the man is honest, and\nthey can trust him, it is evident no man can make so much of them as the\nbankrupt. (1.) He knows the circumstances of the debtors, and how best\nto manage them; he knows who he may best push at, and who best forbear.\n(2.) He can do it with the least charge; the commissioners or assignees\nmust employ other people, such as attorneys, solicitors, &c., and they\nare paid dear. The bankrupt sits at home, and by letters into the\ncountry, or by visiting them, if in town, can make up every account,\nanswer every objection, judge of every scruple, and, in a word, with\nease, compared to what others must do, brings them to comply.\nNext, as to selling off a stock of goods. The bankrupt keeps open the\nshop, disperses or disposes of the goods with advantage; whereas the\ncommission brings all to a sale, or an outcry, or an appraisement, and\nall sinks the value of the stock; so that the bankrupt can certainly\nmake more of the stock than any other person (always provided he is\nhonest, as I said before), and much more than the creditors can do.\nFor these reasons, and many others, the bankrupt is able to make a\nbetter offer upon his estate than the creditors can expect to raise any\nother way; and therefore it is their interest always to take the first\noffer, if they are satisfied there is no fraud in it, and that the man\nhas offered any thing near the extent of what he has left in the world\nto offer from.\nIf, then, it be the tradesman's interest to accept of the offer made,\nthere needs no stronger argument to be used with him for the doing it;\nand nothing is more surprising to me than to see tradesmen, the hardest\nto come into such compositions, and to push on severities against other\ntradesmen, as if they were out of the reach of the shocks of fortune\nthemselves, or that it was impossible for them ever to stand in need of\nthe same mercy--the contrary to which I have often seen.\nTo what purpose should tradesmen push things to extremities against\ntradesmen, if nothing is to be gotten by it, and if the insolvent\ntradesman will take proper measures to convince the creditor that his\nintentions are honest? The law was made for offenders; there needs no\nlaw for innocent men: commissions are granted to manage knaves, and\nhamper and entangle cunning and designing rogues, who seek to raise\nfortunes out of their creditors' estates, and exalt themselves by their\nown downfall; they are not designed against honest men, neither, indeed,\nis there any need of them for such.\nLet no man mistake this part, therefore, and think that I am moving\ntradesmen to be easy and compassionate to rogues and cheats: I am far\nfrom it, and have given sufficient testimony of the contrary; having, I\nassure you, been the only person who actually formed, drew up, and first\nproposed that very cause to the House of Commons, which made it felony\nto the bankrupt to give in a false account. It cannot, therefore, be\nsuggested, without manifest injustice, that I would with one breath\nprompt creditors to be easy to rogues, and to cheating fraudulent\nbankrupts, and with another make a proposal to have them hanged.\nBut I move the creditor, on account of his own interest, always to take\nthe first offer, if he sees no palpable fraud in it, or sees no reason\nto suspect such fraud; and my reason is good, namely, because I believe,\nas I said before, it is generally the best.\nI know there is a new method of putting an end to a tradesman's\ntroubles, by that which was formerly thought the greatest of all\ntroubles; I mean a fraudulent method, or what they call taking out\nfriendly statutes; that is, when tradesmen get statutes taken out\nagainst themselves, moved first by some person in kindness to them, and\ndone at the request of the bankrupt himself. This is generally done\nwhen the circumstances of the debtor are very low, and he has little or\nnothing to surrender; and the end is, that the creditors may be obliged\nto take what there is, and the man may get a full discharge.\nThis is, indeed, a vile corruption of a good law, and turning the edge\nof the act against the creditor, not against the debtor; and as he has\nnothing to surrender, they get little or nothing, and the man is as\neffectually discharged as if he had paid twenty shillings in the pound;\nand so he is in a condition to set up again, take fresh credit, break\nagain, and have another commission against him; and so round, as often\nas he thinks fit. This, indeed, is a fraud upon the act, and shows that\nall human wisdom is imperfect, that the law wants some repairs, and that\nit will in time come into consideration again, to be made capable of\ndisappointing the people that intend to make such use of it.\nI think there is also wanting a law against twice breaking, and that all\nsecond commissions should have some penalty upon the bankrupt, and a\nthird a farther penalty, and if the fourth brought the man to the\ngallows, it could not be thought hard; for he that has set up and broke,\nand set up again, and broke again, and the like, a third time, I think\nmerits to be hanged, if he pretends to venture any more.\nMost of those crimes against which any laws are published in particular,\nand which are not capital, have generally an addition of punishment upon\na repetition of the crime, and so on--a further punishment to a further\nrepetition. I do not see why it should not be so here; and I doubt not\nbut it would have a good effect upon tradesmen, to make them cautious,\nand to warn them to avoid such scandalous doings as we see daily\npractised, breaking three or four, or five times over; and we see\ninstances of some such while I am writing this very chapter.\nTo such, therefore, I am so far from moving for any favour, either from\nthe law, or from their creditors, that I think the only deficiency of\nthe law at this time is, that it does not reach to inflict a corporal\npunishment in such a case, but leaves such insolvents to fare well, in\ncommon with those whose disasters are greater, and who, being honest and\nconscientious, merit more favour, but do not often find it.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[23] [This event took place in 1671, Charles II. finding it necessary to\nsuspend the national payments for a year.]\n[24] [The truth of this continues to be matter of daily observation in\nour own times.]\n[25] [A name applied, in the seventeenth century, to a certain class of\nrobbers in Ireland.]\nCHAPTER XIV\nOF THE UNFORTUNATE TRADESMAN COMPOUNDING WITH HIS CREDITORS\nThis is what in the last chapter I called an alternative to that of the\nfortunate tradesman yielding to accept the composition of his insolvent\ndebtor.\nThe poor unhappy tradesman, having long laboured in the fire, and\nfinding it is in vain to struggle, but that whether he strives or not\nstrives, he must break; that he does but go backward more and more, and\nthat the longer he holds out, he shall have the less to offer, and be\nthe harder thought of, as well as the harder dealt with--resolves to\ncall his creditors together in time, while there is something\nconsiderable to offer them, and while he may have some just account to\ngive of himself, and of his conduct, and that he may not be reproached\nwith having lived on the spoil, and consumed their estates; and thus,\nbeing satisfied that the longer he puts the evil day from him, the\nheavier it will fall when it comes; I say, he resolves to go no farther,\nand so gets a friend to discourse with and prepare them, and then draws\nup a state of his case to lay before them.\nFirst, He assures them that he has not wasted his estate, either by vice\nand immorality, or by expensive and riotous living, luxury,\nextravagance, and the like.\nSecondly, He makes it appear that he has met with great losses, such as\nhe could not avoid; and yet such and so many, that he has not been able\nto support the weight of them.\nThirdly, That he could have stood it out longer, but that he was\nsensible if he did, he should but diminish the stock, which, considering\nhis debts, was properly not his own; and that he was resolved not to\nspend one part of their debts, as he had lost the other.\nFourthly, That he is willing to show them his books, and give up every\nfarthing into their hands, that they might see he acted the part of an\nhonest man to them. And,\nFifthly, That upon his doing so, they will find, that there is in goods\nand good debts sufficient to pay them fifteen shillings in the pound;\nafter which, and when he has made appear that they have a faithful and\njust account of every thing laid before them, he hopes they will give\nhim his liberty, that he may try to get his bread, and to maintain his\nfamily in the best manner he can; and, if possible, to pay the remainder\nof the debt.\nYou see I go all the way upon the suggestion of the poor unfortunate\ntradesman being critically honest, and showing himself so to the full\nsatisfaction of his creditors; that he shows them distinctly a true\nstate of his case, and offers his books and vouchers to confirm every\npart of his account.\nUpon the suggestion of his being thus sincerely honest, and allowing\nthat the state of his account comes out so well as to pay fifteen\nshillings in the pound, what and who but a parcel of outrageous\nhot-headed men would reject such a man? What would they be called, nay,\nwhat would they say of themselves, if they should reject such a\ncomposition, and should go and take out a commission of bankrupt against\nsuch a man? I never knew but one of the like circumstances, that was\nrefused by his creditors; and that one held them out, till they were all\nglad to accept of half what they said should be first paid them: so may\nall those be served, who reject such wholesome advice, and the season\nfor accepting a good offer, when it was made them. But I return to the\ndebtor.\nWhen he looks into his books, he finds himself declined, his own fortune\nlost, and his creditors' stock in his hands wasted in part, and still\nwasting, his trade being for want of stock much fallen off, and his\nfamily expense and house-rent great; so he draws up the general articles\nthus:--\nSTOCK DEBTOR\n     To cash of my father (being my stock) to begin with in\n     To Cash of my father-in-law, being my wife's portion         600  0  0\n     To profits in trade for ten years, as by the yearly balance\n     To debts abroad esteemed good, as by the ledger appears     1357  8  0\n     To goods in the warehouse at the prime cost                  672 12  0\n     Plate and some small jewels of my wife's left, and old\n     STOCK CREDITOR\n     By losses by bad debts in trade, in the year 1715       \u00a3 50    0  0\n     By house-keeping and expenses, taxes included, as by the\n     By credits now owing to sundry persons, as by the ledger\nThis account is drawn out to satisfy himself how his condition stands,\nand what it is he ought to do: upon the stating which account he sees to\nhis affliction that he has sunk all his own fortune and his wife's, and\nis a thousand pounds worse than nothing in the world; and that, being\nobliged to live in the same house for the sake of his business and\nwarehouse, though the rent is too great for him, his trade being\ndeclined, his credit sunk, and his family being large, he sees evidently\nhe cannot go on, and that it will only be bringing things from bad to\nworse; and, above all the rest, being greatly perplexed in his mind that\nhe is spending other people's estates, and that the bread he eats is not\nhis own, he resolves to call his creditors all together, lay before them\nthe true state of his case, and lie at their mercy for the rest.\nThe account of his present and past fortune standing as it did, and as\nappears above, the result is as follows, namely, that he has not\nsufficient to pay all his creditors, though his debts should prove to be\nall good, and the goods in his warehouse should be fully worth the price\nthey cost, which, being liable to daily contingencies, add to the\nreasons which pressed him before to make an offer of surrender to his\ncreditors both of his goods and debts, and to give up all into their\nhands.\nThe state of his case, as to his debts and credits, stands as follows:--\n     His debts esteemed good, as by the ledger, are         \u00a31357   8   0\n     His creditors demands, as by the same ledger\nThis amounts to fifteen shillings in the pound upon all his debts,\nwhich, if the creditors please to appoint an assignee or trustee to sell\nthe goods, and collect the debts, he is willing to surrender wholly into\ntheir hands, hoping they will, as a favour, give him his household\ngoods, as in the account, for his family use, and his liberty, that he\nmay seek out for some employment to get his bread.\nThe account being thus clear, the books exactly agreeing, and the man\nappearing to have acted openly and fairly, the creditors meet, and,\nafter a few consultations, agree to accept his proposals, and the man is\na free man immediately, gets fresh credit, opens his shop again, and,\ndoubling his vigilance and application in business, he recovers in a few\nyears, grows rich; then, like an honest man still, he calls all his\ncreditors together again, tells them he does not call them now to a\nsecond composition, but to tell them, that having, with God's blessing\nand his own industry, gotten enough to enable him, he was resolved to\npay them the remainder of his old debt; and accordingly does so, to the\ngreat joy of his creditors, to his own very great honour, and to the\nencouragement of all honest men to take the same measures. It is true,\nthis does not often happen, but there have been instances of it, and I\ncould name several within my own knowledge.\nBut here comes an objection in the way, as follows: It is true this man\ndid very honestly, and his creditors had a great deal of reason to be\nsatisfied with his just dealing with them; but is every man bound thus\nto strip himself naked? Perhaps this man at the same time had a family\nto maintain, and had he no debt of justice to them, but to beg his\nhousehold goods back of them for his poor family, and that as an\nalms?-and would he not have fared as well, if he had offered his\ncreditors ten shillings in the pound, and took all the rest upon\nhimself, and then he had reserved to himself sufficient to have\nsupported himself in any new undertaking?\nThe answer to this is short and plain, and no debtor can be at a loss to\nknow his way in it, for otherwise people may make difficulties where\nthere are none; the observing the strict rules of justice and honesty\nwill chalk out his way for him.\nThe man being deficient in stock, and his estate run out to a thousand\npounds worse than nothing by his losses, &c, it is evident all he has\nleft is the proper estate of his creditors, and he has no right to one\nshilling of it; he owes it them, it is a just debt to them, and he ought\nto discharge it fairly, by giving up all into their hands, or at least\nto offer to do so.\nBut to put the case upon a new foot; as he is obliged to make an offer,\nas above, to put all his effects, books, and goods into their power, so\nhe may add an alternative to them thus, namely--that if, on the other\nhand, they do not think proper to take the trouble, or run the risk, of\ncollecting the debts, and selling the goods, which may be difficult, if\nthey will leave it to him to do it, he will undertake to pay\nthem--shillings in the pound, and stand to the hazard both of debts and\ngoods.\nHaving thus offered the creditors their choice, if they accept the\nproposal of a certain sum, as sometimes I know they have chosen to do,\nrather than to have the trouble of making assignees, and run the hazard\nof the debts, when put into lawyers' hands to collect, and of the goods,\nto sell them by appraisement; if, I say, they choose this, and offer to\ndischarge the debtor upon payment, suppose it be of ten or twelve\nshillings in the pound in money, within a certain time, or on giving\nsecurity for the payment; then, indeed, the debtor is discharged in\nconscience, and may lawfully and honestly take the remainder as a gift\ngiven him by his creditors for undertaking their business, or securing\nthe remainder of their debt to them--I say, the debtor may do this with\nthe utmost satisfaction to his conscience.\nBut without thus putting it into the creditors' choice, it is a force\nupon them to offer them any thing less than the utmost farthing that he\nis able to pay; and particularly to pretend to make an offer as if it\nwere his utmost, and, as is usual, make protestations that it is the\nmost he is able to pay (indeed, every offer of a composition is a kind\nof protestation that the debtor is not able to pay any more)--I say, to\noffer thus, and declare he offers as much as possible, and as much as\nthe effects he has left will produce, if his effects are able to produce\nmore, he is then a cheat; for he acts then like one that stands at bay\nwith his creditors, make an offer, and if the creditors do not think fit\nto accept of it, they must take what methods they think they can take to\nget more; that is to say, he bids open defiance to their statutes and\ncommissions of bankrupt, and any other proceedings: like a town\nbesieged, which offers to capitulate and to yield upon such and such\narticles; which implies, that if those articles are not accepted, the\ngarrison will defend themselves to the last extremity, and do all the\nmischief to the assailants that they can.\nNow, this in a garrison-town, I say, may be lawful and fair, but in a\ndebtor to his creditor it is quite another thing: for, as I have said\nabove, the debtor has no property in the effects which he has in his\nhands; they are the goods and the estate of the creditor; and to hold\nout against the creditor, keep his estate by violence, and make him\naccept of a small part of it, when the debtor has a larger part in his\npower, and is able to give it--this is not fair, much less is it honest\nand conscientious; but it is still worse to do this, and at the same\ntime to declare that it is the utmost the debtor can do; this, I say, is\nstill more dishonest, because it is not true, and is adding falsehood to\nthe other injustice.\nThus, I think, I have stated the case clearly, for the conduct of the\ndebtor; and, indeed, this way of laying all before the creditors, and\nputting it into their choice, seems a very happy method for the comfort\nof the debtor, cast down and dejected with the weight of his\ncircumstances; and, it may be, with the reproaches of his own conscience\ntoo, that he has not done honestly in running out the effects of his\ncreditors, and making other families suffer by him, and perhaps poor\nfamilies too--I say, this way of giving up all with an honest and single\ndesire to make all the satisfaction he is able to his creditors, greatly\nheals the breach in his peace, which his circumstances had made before;\nfor, by now doing all that is in his power, he makes all possible amends\nfor what is past, I mean as to men; and they are induced, by this open,\nfrank usage, to give him the reward of his honesty, and freely forgive\nhim the rest of the debt.\nThere is a manifest difference to the debtor, in point of conscience,\nbetween surrendering his whole effects, or estate, to his creditors for\nsatisfaction of their debts, and offering them a composition, unless, as\nI have said, the composition is offered, as above, to the choice of the\ncreditor. By surrendering the whole estate, the debtor acknowledges the\ncreditors' right to all he has in his possession, and gives it up to\nthem as their own, putting it in their full power to dispose of it as\nthey please.\nBut, by a composition, the debtor, as I have said above, stands at bay\nwith the creditors, and, keeping their estates in his hands, capitulates\nwith them, as it were, sword in hand, telling them he can give them no\nmore, when perhaps, and too often it is the case, it is apparent that he\nis in condition to offer more. Now, let the creditors consent to these\nproposals, be what it will; and, however voluntary it may be pretended\nto be, it is evident that a force is the occasion of it, and the\ncreditor complies, and accepts the proposal, upon the supposition that\nno better conditions can be had. It is the plain language of the thing,\nfor no man accepts of less than he thinks he can get: if he believed he\ncould have more, he would certainly get it if he could.\nAnd if the debtor is able to pay one shilling more than he offers, it is\na cheat, a palpable fraud, and of so much he actually robs his creditor.\nBut in a surrender the case is altered in all its parts; the debtor says\nto his creditors, 'Gentlemen, there is a full and faithful account of\nall I have left; it is your own, and there it is; I am ready to put it\ninto your hands, or into the hands of whomsoever you shall appoint to\nreceive it, and to lie at your mercy.' This is all the man is able to\ndo, and therefore is so far honest; whether the methods that reduced him\nwere honest or no, that is a question by itself. If on this surrender he\nfinds the creditors desirous rather to have it digested into a\ncomposition, and that they will voluntarily come into such a proposal,\nthen, as above, they being judges of the equity of the composition, and\nof what ability the debtor is to perform it, and, above all, of what he\nmay or may not gain by it, if they accept of such a composition, instead\nof the surrender of his effects, then the case alters entirely, and the\ndebtor is acquitted in conscience, because the creditor had a fair\nchoice, and the composition is rather their proposal to the debtor, than\nthe debtor's proposal to them.\nThus, I think, I have stated the case of justice and conscience on the\ndebtor's behalf, and cleared up his way, in case of a necessity, to stop\ntrading, that he may break without wounding his conscience, as well as\nhis fortunes; and he that thinks fit to act thus, will come off with the\nreputation of an honest man, and will have the favour of his creditors\nto begin again, with whatever he may have as to stock; and sometimes\nthat favour is better to him than a stock, and has been the raising of\nmany a broken tradesman, so that his latter end has been better than his\nbeginning.\nCHAPTER XV\nOF TRADESMEN RUINING ONE ANOTHER BY RUMOUR AND CLAMOUR, BY SCANDAL AND\nREPROACH\nI have dwelt long upon the tradesman's management of himself, in order\nto his due preserving both his business and his reputation: let me\nbestow one chapter upon the tradesman for his conduct among his\nneighbours and fellow-tradesmen.\nCredit is so much a tradesman's blessing that it is the choicest ware he\ndeals in, and he cannot be too chary of it when he has it, or buy it too\ndear when he wants it; it is a stock to his warehouse, it is current\nmoney in his cash-chest, it accepts all his bills, for it is on the fund\nof his credit that he has any bills to accept; demands would else be\nmade upon the spot, and he must pay for his goods before he has\nthem--therefore, I say, it accepts all his bills, and oftentimes pays\nthem too; in a word, it is the life and soul of his trade, and it\nrequires his utmost vigilance to preserve it.\nIf, then, his own credit should be of so much value to him, and he\nshould be so nice in his concern about it, he ought in some degree to\nhave the same care of his neighbour's. Religion teaches us not to\nslander and defame our neighbour, that is to say, not to raise or\npromote any slander or scandal upon his good name. As a good name is to\nanother man, and which the wise man says, 'is better than life,' the\nsame is credit to a tradesman--it is the life of his trade; and he that\nwounds a tradesman's credit without cause, is as much a murderer in\ntrade, as he that kills a man in the dark is a murderer in matters of\nblood.\nBesides, there is a particular nicety in the credit of a tradesman,\nwhich does not reach in other cases: a man is slandered in his\ncharacter, or reputation, and it is injurious; and if it comes in the\nway of a marriage, or of a preferment, or post, it may disappoint and\nruin him; but if this happens to a tradesman, he is immediately and\nunavoidably blasted and undone; a tradesman has but two sorts of enemies\nto encounter with, namely, thieves breaking open his shop, and ill\nneighbours blackening and blasting his reputation; and the latter are\nthe worst thieves of the two, by a great deal; and, therefore, people\nshould indeed be more chary of their discourse of tradesmen, than of\nother men, and that as they would not be guilty of murder. I knew an\nauthor of a book, who was drawn in unwarily, and without design, to\npublish a scandalous story of a tradesman in London. He (the author) was\nimposed upon by a set of men, who did it maliciously, and he was utterly\nignorant of the wicked design; nor did he know the person, but rashly\npublished the thing, being himself too fond of a piece of news, which he\nthought would be grateful to his readers; nor yet did he publish the\nperson's name, so cautious he was, though that was not enough, as it\nproved, for the person was presently published by those who had\nmaliciously done it.\nThe scandal spread; the tradesman, a flourishing man, and a considerable\ndealer, was run upon by it with a torrent of malice; a match which he\nwas about with a considerable fortune was blasted and prevented, and\nthat indeed was the malicious end of the people that did it; nor did it\nstop there--it brought his creditors upon him, it ruined him, it brought\nout a commission of bankrupt against him, it broke his heart, and killed\nhim; and after his death, his debts and effects coming in, there\nappeared to be seven shillings in the pound estate, clear and good over\nand above all demands, all his debts discharged, and all the expenses of\nthe statute paid.\nIt was to no purpose that the man purged himself of the crime laid to\nhis charge--that the author, who had ignorantly and rashly published the\nscandal, declared himself ignorant; the man was run down by a torrent of\nreproach; scandal oppressed him; he was buried alive in the noise and\ndust raised both against his morals and his credit, and yet his\ncharacter was proved good, and his bottom in trade was so too, as I have\nsaid above.\nIt is not the least reason of my publishing this to add, that even the\nperson who was ignorantly made the instrument of publishing the scandal,\nwas not able to retrieve it, or to prevent the man's ruin by all the\npublic reparation he could make in print, and by all the acknowledgement\nhe could make of his having been ignorantly drawn in to do it. And this\nI mention for the honest tradesman's caution, and to put him in mind,\nthat when he has unwarily let slip anything to the wounding the\nreputation of his neighbour tradesman, whether in his trading credit, or\nthe credit of his morals, it may not be in his power to unsay it again,\nthat is, so as to prevent the ruin of the person; and though it may\ngrieve him as long as he lives, as the like did the author I mention,\nyet it is not in his power to recall it, or to heal the wound he has\ngiven; and that he should consider very well of beforehand.\nA tradesman's credit and a virgin's virtue ought to be equally sacred\nfrom the tongues of men; and it is a very unhappy truth, that as times\nnow go, they are neither of them regarded among us as they ought to be.\nThe tea-table among the ladies, and the coffee-house among the men, seem\nto be places of new invention for a depravation of our manners and\nmorals, places devoted to scandal, and where the characters of all\nkinds of persons and professions are handled in the most merciless\nmanner, where reproach triumphs, and we seem to give ourselves a loose\nto fall upon one another in the most unchristian and unfriendly manner\nin the world.\nIt seems a little hard that the reputation of a young lady, or of a\nnew-married couple, or of people in the most critical season of\nestablishing the characters of their persons and families, should lie at\nthe mercy of the tea-table; nor is it less hard, that the credit of a\ntradesman, which is the same thing in its nature as the virtue of a\nlady, should be tossed about, shuttle-cock-like, from one table to\nanother, in the coffee-house, till they shall talk all his creditors\nabout his ears, and bring him to the very misfortune which they reported\nhim to be near, when at the same time he owed them nothing who raised\nthe clamour, and owed nothing to all the world, but what he was able to\npay.\nAnd yet how many tradesmen have been thus undone, and how many more have\nbeen put to the full trial of their strength in trade, and have stood by\nthe mere force of their good circumstances; whereas, had they been\nunfurnished with cash to have answered their whole debts, they must have\nfallen with the rest.\nWe need go no farther than Lombard Street for an exemplification of this\ntruth. There was a time when Lombard Street was the only bank, and the\ngoldsmiths there were all called bankers. The credit of their business\nwas such, that the like has not been seen in England since, in private\nhands: some of those bankers, as I have had from their own mouths, have\nhad near two millions of paper credit upon them at a time; that is to\nsay, have had bills under their hands running abroad for so much at a\ntime.\nOn a sudden, like a clap of thunder, King Charles II. shut up the\nExchequer, which was the common centre of the overplus cash these great\nbankers had in their hands. What was the consequence? Not only the\nbankers who had the bulk of their cash there, but all Lombard Street,\nstood still. The very report of having money in the Exchequer brought a\nrun upon the goldsmiths that had no money there, as well as upon those\nthat had, and not only Sir Robert Viner, Alderman Backwell, Farringdon,\nForth, and others, broke and failed, but several were ruined who had not\na penny of money in the Exchequer, and only sunk by the rumour of it;\nthat rumour bringing a run upon the whole street, and giving a check to\nthe paper credit that was run up to such an exorbitant height.\nI remember a shopkeeper who one time took the liberty (foolish liberty!)\nwith himself, in public company in a coffee-house, to say that he was\nbroke. 'I assure you,' says he, 'that I am broke, and to-morrow I\nresolve to shut up my shop, and call my creditors together.' His meaning\nwas, that he had a brother just dead in his house, and the next day was\nto be buried, when, in civility to the deceased, he kept his shop shut;\nand several people whom he dealt with, and owed money to, were the next\nday invited to the funeral, so that he did actually shut up his shop,\nand call some of his creditors together.\nBut he sorely repented the jest which he put upon himself. 'Are you\nbroke?' says one of his friends to him, that was in the coffee-house;\n'then I wish I had the little money you owe me' (which however, it\nseems, was not much). Says the other, still carrying on his jest, 'I\nshall pay nobody, till, as I told you, I have called my people\ntogether.' The other did not reach his jest, which at best was but a\ndull one, but he reached that part of it that concerned himself, and\nseeing him continue carelessly sitting in the shop, slipped out, and,\nfetching a couple of sergeants, arrested him. The other was a little\nsurprised; but however, the debt being no great sum, he paid it, and\nwhen he found his mistake, told his friends what he meant by his being\nbroke.\nBut it did not end there; for other people of his neighbours, who were\nthen in the coffee-house, and heard his discourse, and had thought\nnothing more of it, yet in the morning seeing his shop shut, concluded\nthe thing was so indeed, and immediately it went over the whole street\nthat such a one was broke; from thence it went to the Exchange, and from\nthence into the country, among all his dealers, who came up in a throng\nand a fright to look after him. In a word, he had as much to do to\nprevent his breaking as any man need to desire, and if he had not had\nvery good friends as well as a very good bottom, he had inevitably been\nruined and undone.\nSo small a rumour will overset a tradesman, if he is not very careful of\nhimself; and if a word in jest from himself, which though indeed no man\nthat had considered things, or thought before he spoke, would have said\n(and, on the other hand, no man who had been wise and thinking would\nhave taken as it was taken)--I say, if a word taken from the tradesman's\nown mouth could be so fatal, and run such a dangerous length, what may\nnot words spoken slyly, and secretly, and maliciously, be made to do?\nA tradesman's reputation is of the nicest nature imaginable; like a\nblight upon a fine flower, if it is but touched, the beauty of it, or\nthe flavour of it, or the seed of it, is lost, though the noxious breath\nwhich touched it might not reach to blast the leaf, or hurt the root;\nthe credit of a tradesman, at least in his beginning, is too much at the\nmercy of every enemy he has, till it has taken root, and is established\non a solid foundation of good conduct and success. It is a sad truth,\nthat every idle tongue can blast a young shopkeeper; and therefore,\nthough I would not discourage any young beginner, yet it is highly\nbeneficial to alarm them, and to let them know that they must expect a\nstorm of scandal and reproach upon the least slip they make: if they but\nstumble, fame will throw them down; it is true, if they recover, she\nwill set them up as fast; but malice generally runs before, and bears\ndown all with it; and there are ten tradesmen who fall under the weight\nof slander and an ill tongue, to one that is lifted up again by the\ncommon hurry of report.\nTo say I am broke, or in danger of breaking, is to break me: and though\nsometimes the malicious occasion is discovered, and the author detected\nand exposed, yet how seldom is it so; and how much oftener are ill\nreports raised to ruin and run down a tradesman, and the credit of a\nshop; and like an arrow that flies in the dark, it wounds unseen. The\nauthors, no nor the occasion of these reports, are never discovered\nperhaps, or so much as rightly guessed at; and the poor tradesman feels\nthe wound, receives the deadly blow, and is perhaps mortally stabbed in\nthe vitals of his trade, I mean his trading credit, and never knows who\nhurt him.\nI must say, in the tradesman's behalf, that he is in such a case to be\nesteemed a sacrifice to the worst and most hellish of all secret crimes,\nI mean envy; which is made up of every hateful vice, a complication of\ncrimes which nothing but the worst of God's reasonable world can be\nguilty of; and he will indeed merit and call for every honest man's pity\nand concern. But what relief is this to him? for, in the meantime,\nthough the devil himself were the raiser of the scandal, yet it shall go\nabout; the blow shall take, and every man, though at the same time\nexpressing their horror and aversion at the thing, shall yet not be\nable, no not themselves, to say they receive no impression from it.\nThough I know the clamour or rumour was raised maliciously, and from a\nsecret envy at the prosperity of the man, yet if I deal with him, it\nwill in spite of all my abhorrence of the thing, in spite of all my\nwillingness to do justice, I say it will have some little impression\nupon me, it will be some shock to my confidence in the man; and though I\nknow the devil is a liar, a slanderer, a calumniator, and that his name\n_devil_ is derived from it; and that I knew, if that, as I said, were\npossible, that the devil in his proper person raised and began, and\ncarried on, this scandal upon the tradesman, yet there is a secret\nlurking doubt (about him), which hangs about me concerning him; the\ndevil is a liar, but he may happen to speak truth just then, he may\nchance to be right, and I know not what there may be in it, and whether\nthere may be any thing or no, but I will have a little care, &c.\nThus, insensibly and involuntarily, nay, in spite of friendship, good\nwishes, and even resolution to the contrary, it is almost impossible to\nprevent our being shocked by rumour, and we receive an impression\nwhether we will or not, and that from the worst enemy; there is such a\npowerful sympathy between our thoughts and our interest, that the first\nbeing but touched, and that in the lightest manner imaginable, we cannot\nhelp it, caution steps on in behalf of the last, and the man is jealous\nand afraid, in spite of all the kindest and best intentions in the\nworld.\nNor is it only dangerous in case of false accusations and false charges,\nfor those indeed are to be expected fatal; but even just and true things\nmay be as fatal as false, for the truth is not always necessary to be\nsaid of a tradesman: many things a tradesman may perhaps allow himself\nto do, and may be lawfully done, but if they should be known to be part\nof his character, it would sink deep into his trading fame, his credit\nwould suffer by it, and in the end it might be his ruin; so that he that\nwould not set his hand to his neighbour's ruin, should as carefully\navoid speaking some truths, as raising some forgeries upon him.\nOf what fatal consequence, then, is the raising rumours and suspicions\nupon the credit and characters of young tradesmen! and how little do\nthose who are forward to raise such suspicions, and spread such rumours,\nconsult conscience, or principle, or honour, in what they do! How little\ndo they consider that they are committing a trading murder, and that, in\nrespect to the justice of it, they may with much more equity break open\nthe tradesman's house, and rob his cash-chest, or his shop; and what\nthey can carry away thence will not do him half the injury that robbing\nhis character of what is due to it from an upright and diligent conduct,\nwould do. The loss of his money or goods is easily made up, and may be\nsometimes repaired with advantage, but the loss of credit is never\nrepaired; the one is breaking open his house, but the other is burning\nit down; the one carries away some goods, but the other shuts goods out\nfrom coming in; one is hurting the tradesman, but the other is undoing\nhim.\nCredit is the tradesman's life; it is, as the wise man says, 'marrow to\nhis bones;' it is by this that all his affairs go on prosperously and\npleasantly; if this be hurt, wounded, or weakened, the tradesman is\nsick, hangs his head, is dejected and discouraged; and if he does go on,\nit is heavily and with difficulty, as well as with disadvantage; he is\nbeholding to his fund of cash, not his friends; and he may be truly said\nto stand upon his own legs, for nothing else can do it.\nAnd therefore, on the other hand, if such a man is any way beholding to\nhis credit, if he stood before upon the foundation of his credit, if he\nowes any thing considerable, it is a thousand to one but he sinks under\nthe oppression of it; that is to say, it brings every body upon him--I\nmean, every one that has any demand upon him--for in pushing for their\nown, especially in such cases, men have so little mercy, and are so\nuniversally persuaded that he that comes first is first served, that I\ndid not at all wonder, that in the story of the tradesman who so\nfoolishly exposed himself in the coffee-house, as above, his friend whom\nhe said the words to, began with him that very night, and before he went\nout of the coffee-house; it was rather a wonder to me he did not go out\nand bring in half-a-dozen more upon him the same evening.\nIt is very rarely that men are wanting to their own interest; and the\njealousy of its being but in danger, is enough to make men forget, not\nfriendship only, and generosity, but good manners, civility, and even\njustice itself, and fall upon the best friends they have in the world,\nif they think they are in the least danger of suffering by them.\nOn these accounts it is, and many more, that a tradesman walks in\ncontinual jeopardy, from the looseness and inadvertency of men's\ntongues, ay, and women's too; for though I am all along very tender of\nthe ladies, and would do justice to the sex, by telling you, they were\nnot the dangerous people whom I had in view in my first writing upon\nthis subject, yet I must be allowed to say, that they are sometimes\nfully even with the men, for ill usage, when they please to fall upon\nthem in this nice article, in revenge for any slight, or but pretended\nslight, put upon them.\nIt was a terrible revenge a certain lady, who was affronted by a\ntradesman in London, in a matter of love, took upon him in this very\narticle. It seems a tradesman had courted her some time, and it was\nbecome public, as a thing in a manner concluded, when the tradesman left\nthe lady a little abruptly, without giving a good reason for it, and,\nindeed, she afterwards discovered, that he had left her for the offer of\nanother with a little more money, and that, when he had done so, he\nreported that it was for another reason, which reflected a little on the\nperson of the lady; and in this the tradesman did very unworthily\nindeed, and deserved her resentment: but, as I said, it was a terrible\nrevenge she took, and what she ought not to have done.\nFirst, she found out who it was that her former pretended lover had been\nrecommended to, and she found means to have it insinuated to her by a\nwoman-friend, that he was not only rakish and wicked, but, in short,\nthat he had a particular illness, and went so far as to produce letters\nfrom him to a quack-doctor, for directions to him how to take his\nmedicines, and afterwards a receipt for money for the cure; though both\nthe letters and receipt also, as afterwards appeared, were forged, in\nwhich she went a dismal length in her revenge, as you may see.\nThen she set two or three female instruments to discourse her case in\nall their gossips' companies, and at the tea-tables wherever they came,\nand to magnify the lady's prudence in refusing such a man, and what an\nescape she had had in being clear of him.\n'Why,' says a lady to one of these emissaries, 'what was the matter? I\nthought she was like to be very well married.'\n'Oh no, Madam! by no means,' says the emissary.\n'Why, Madam,' says another lady, 'we all know Mr H----; he is a very\npretty sort of a man.'\n'Ay, Madam,' says the emissary again, 'but you know a pretty man is not\nall that is required.'\n'Nay,' says the lady again, 'I don't mean so; he is no beauty, no rarity\nthat way; but I mean a clever good sort of a man in his business, such\nas we call a pretty tradesman.'\n'Ay,' says the lady employed, 'but that is not all neither.'\n'Why,' says the other lady, 'he has a very good trade too, and lives in\ngood credit.'\n'Yes,' says malice, 'he has some of the first, but not too much of the\nlast, I suppose.'\n'No!' says the lady; 'I thought his credit had been very good.'\n'If it had, I suppose,' says the first, 'the match had not been broke\noff.'\n'Why,' says the lady, 'I understood it was broken off on his side.'\n'And so did I,' says another.\n'And so did I, indeed,' says a third.\n'Oh, Madam!' says the tool, 'nothing like it, I assure you.'\n'Indeed,' says another, I understood he had quitted Mrs----, because she\nhad not fortune enough for him, and that he courted another certain\nlady, whom we all know.'\nThen the ladies fell to talking of the circumstances of his leaving her,\nand how he had broken from her abruptly and unmannerly, and had been too\nfree with her character; at which the first lady, that is to say, the\nemissary, or tool, as I call her, took it up a little warmly, thus:--\n1. _Lady_.--Well, you see, ladies, how easily a lady's reputation may be\ninjured; I hope you will not go away with it so.\n2. _Lady_.--Nay, we have all of us a respect for Mrs----, and some of us\nvisit there sometimes; I believe none of us would be willing to injure\nher.\n1. _Lady_.--But indeed, ladies, she is very much injured in that story.\n2. _Lady_.--Indeed, it is generally understood so, and every body\nbelieves it.\n1. _Lady_.--I can assure you it is quite otherwise in fact.\n2. _Lady_.--I believe he reports it so himself, and that with some very\nodd things about the lady too.\n1. _Lady_.--The more base unworthy fellow he.\n2. _Lady_.--Especially if he knows it to be otherwise.\n1. _Lady_.--Especially if he knows the contrary to be true, Madam.\n2. _Lady_.--Is that possible? Did he not refuse her, then?\n1. _Lady_.--Nothing like it, Madam; but just the contrary.\n2. _Lady_.--You surprise me!\n3. _Lady_.--I am very glad to hear it, for her sake.\n1. _Lady_.--I can assure you, Madam, she had refused him, and that he\nknows well enough, which has been one of the reasons that has made him\nabuse her as he has done.\n2. _Lady_.--Indeed, she has been used very ill by him, or somebody for\nhim.\n1. _Lady_.--Yes, he has reported strange things, but they are all lies.\n2. _Lady_.--Well; but pray, Madam, what was the reason, if we may be so\nfree, that she turned him off after she had entertained him so long?\n1. _Lady_.--Oh, Madam! reason enough; I wonder he should pretend, when\nhe knew his own circumstances too, to court a lady of her fortune.\n2. _Lady_.--Why, are not his circumstances good, then?\n1. _Lady_.--No, Madam. Good! alas, he has no bottom.\n2. _Lady_.--No bottom! Why, you surprise me; we always looked upon him\nto be a man of substance, and that he was very well in the world.\n1. _Lady_.--It is all a cheat, Madam; there's nothing in it; when it\ncame to be made out, nothing at all in it.\n2. _Lady_.--That cannot be, Madam; Mr ---- has lived always in good\nreputation and good credit in his business.\n1. _Lady_.--It is all sunk again then, if it was so; I don't know.\n2. _Lady_.--Why did she entertain him so long, then?\n1. _Lady_.--Alas! Madam, how could she know, poor lady, till her friends\ninquired into things? But when they came to look a little narrowly into\nit, they soon found reason to give her a caution, that he was not the\nman she took him for.\n2. _Lady_.--Well, it is very strange; I am sure he passed for another\nman among us.\n1. _Lady_.--It must be formerly, then, for they tell me his credit has\nbeen sunk these three or four years; he had need enough indeed to try\nfor a greater fortune, he wants it enough.\n2. _Lady_.--It is a sad thing when men look out for fortunes to heal\ntheir trade-breaches with, and make the poor wife patch up their old\nbankrupt credit.\n1. _Lady_.--Especially, Madam, when they know themselves to be gone so\nfar, that even with the addition they can stand but a little while, and\nmust inevitably bring the lady to destruction with them.\n2. _Lady_.--Well, I could never have thought Mr ---- was in such\ncircumstances.\n3. _Lady_.--Nor I; we always took him for a ten thousand pound man.\n1. _Lady_.--They say he was deep in the bubbles, Madam.\n2. _Lady_.--Nay, if he was gotten into the South Sea, that might hurt\nhim indeed, as it has done many a gentleman of better estates than he.\n1. _Lady_.--I don't know whether it was the South Sea, or some other\nbubbles, but he was very near making a bubble of her, and \u00a33000 into the\nbargain.\n2. _Lady_.--I am glad she has escaped him, if it be so; it is a sign her\nfriends took a great deal of care of her.\n1. _Lady_.--He won't hold it long; he will have his desert, I hope; I\ndon't doubt but we shall see him in the Gazette quickly for a bankrupt.\n2. _Lady_.--If he does not draw in some innocent young thing that has\nher fortune in her own hands to patch him up.\n1. _Lady_.--I hope not, Madam; I hear he is blown where he went since,\nand there, they say, they have made another discovery of him, in a worse\ncircumstance than the other.\n2. _Lady_.--How, pray?\n1. _Lady_.--Nothing, Madam, but a particular kind of illness, &c. I need\nsay no more.\n2. _Lady_.--You astonish me! Why, I always thought him a very civil,\nhonest, sober man.\n1. _Lady_.--This is a sad world, Madam; men are seldom known now, till\nit is too late; but sometimes murder comes out seasonably, and so I\nunderstand it is here; for the lady had not gone so far with him, but\nthat she could go off again.\n2. _Lady_.--Nay, it was time to go off again, if it were so.\n1. _Lady_.--Nay, Madam, I do not tell this part of my own knowledge; I\nonly heard so, but I am afraid there is too much in it.\nThus ended this piece of hellish wildfire, upon the character and credit\nof a tradesman, the truth of all which was no more than this--that the\ntradesman, disliking his first lady, left her, and soon after, though\nnot presently, courted another of a superior fortune indeed, though not\nfor that reason; and the first lady, provoked at being cast off, and, as\nshe called it, slighted, raised all this clamour upon him, and\npersecuted him with it, wherever she was able.\nSuch a discourse as this at a tea-table, it could not be expected would\nbe long a secret; it ran from one tittle-tattle society to another; and\nin every company, snow-ball like, it was far from lessening, and it went\non, till at length it began to meet with some contradiction, and the\ntradesman found himself obliged to trace it as far and as well as he\ncould.\nBut it was to no purpose to confront it; when one was asked, and another\nwas asked, they only answered they heard so, and they heard it in\ncompany in such a place, and in such a place, and some could remember\nwhere they had it, and some could not; and the poor tradesman, though he\nwas really a man of substance, sank under it prodigiously: his new\nmistress, whom he courted, refused him, and would never hear any thing\nin his favour, or trouble herself to examine whether it were true or\nno--it was enough, she said, to her, that he was laden with such a\nreport; and, if it was unjust, she was sorry for it, but the misfortune\nmust be his, and he must place it to the account of his having made some\nenemies, which she could not help.\nAs to his credit, the slander of the first lady's raising was spread\nindustriously, and with the utmost malice and bitterness, and did him an\ninexpressible prejudice; every man he dealt with was shy of him; every\nman he owed any thing to came for it, and, as he said, he was sure he\nshould see the last penny demanded; it was his happiness that he had\nwherewith to pay, for had his circumstances been in the least perplexed,\nthe man had been undone; nay, as I have observed in another case, as his\naffairs might have lain, he might have been able to have paid forty\nshillings in the pound, and yet have been undone, and been obliged to\nbreak, and shut up his shop.\nIt is true, he worked through it, and he carried it so far as to fix the\nmalice of all the reports pretty much upon the first lady, and\nparticularly so far as to discover that she was the great reason of his\nbeing so positively rejected by the other; but he could never fix it so\nupon her as to recover any damages of her, only to expose her a little,\nand that she did not value, having, as she said wickedly, had her full\nrevenge of him, and so indeed she had.\nThe sum of the matter is, and it is for this reason I tell you the\nstory, that the reputation of a tradesman is too much at the mercy of\nmen's tongues or women's either; and a story raised upon a tradesman,\nhowever malicious, however false, and however frivolous the occasion, is\nnot easily suppressed, but, if it touches his credit, as a flash of fire\nit spreads over the whole air like a sheet; there is no stopping it.\nMy inference from all this shall be very brief; if the tongues of every\nill-disposed envious gossip, whether man-gossip or woman-gossip, for\nthere are of both sorts, may be thus mischievous to the tradesman, and\nhe is so much at the mercy of the tattling slandering part of the world,\nhow much more should tradesmen be cautious and wary how they touch or\nwound the credit and character of one another. There are but a very few\ntradesmen who can say they are out of the reach of slander, and that the\nmalice of enemies cannot hurt them with the tongue. Here and there one,\nand those ancient and well established, may be able to defy the world;\nbut there are so many others, that I think I may warn all tradesmen\nagainst making havoc of one another's reputation, as they would be\ntenderly used in the same case.\nAnd yet I cannot but say it is too much a tradesman's crime, I mean to\nspeak slightly and contemptibly of other tradesman, their neighbours, or\nperhaps rivals in trade, and to run them down in the characters they\ngive of them, when inquiry may be made of them, as often is the case.\nThe reputation of tradesmen is too often put into the hands of their\nfellow-tradesmen, when ignorant people think to inform themselves of\ntheir circumstances, by going to those whose interest it is to defame\nand run them down.\nI know no case in the world in which there is more occasion for the\ngolden rule, Do as you would be done unto; and though you may be\nestablished, as you may think, and be above the reach of the tongues of\nothers, yet the obligation of the rule is the same, for you are to do as\nyou would be done unto, supposing that you were in the same condition,\nor on a level with the person.\nIt is confessed that tradesmen do not study this rule in the particular\ncase I am now speaking of. No men are apter to speak slightly and coldly\nof a fellow-tradesman than his fellow-tradesmen, and to speak unjustly\nso too; the reasons for which cannot be good, unless it can be pleaded\nfor upon the foundation of a just and impartial concern in the interest\nof the inquirer; and even then nothing must be said but what is\nconsistent with strict justice and truth: all that is more than that, is\nmere slander and envy, and has nothing of the Christian in it, much less\nof the neighbour or friend. It is true that friendship may be due to the\ninquirer, but still so much justice is due to the person inquired of,\nthat it is very hard to speak in such cases, and not be guilty of\nraising dust, as they call it, upon your neighbour, and at least\nhurting, if not injuring him.\nIt is, indeed, so difficult a thing, that I scarce know what stated rule\nto lay down for the conduct of a tradesman in this case:--A tradesman at\na distance is going to deal with another tradesman, my neighbour; and\nbefore he comes to bargain, or before he cares to trust him, he goes,\nweakly enough perhaps, to inquire of him, and of his circumstances,\namong his neighbours and fellow-tradesmen, perhaps of the same\nprofession or employment, and who, among other things, it may be, are\nconcerned by their interest, that this tradesman's credit should not\nrise too fast. What must be done in this case?\nIf I am the person inquired of, what must I do? If I would have this man\nsink in his reputation, or be discredited, and if it is for my interest\nto have him cried down in the world, it is a sore temptation to me to\nput in a few words to his disadvantage; and yet, if I do it in\ngratification of my private views or interest, or upon the foot of\nresentment of any kind whatever, and let it be from what occasion it\nwill, nay, however just and reasonable the resentment is, or may be, it\nis utterly unjust and unlawful, and is not only unfair as a man, but\nunchristian, and is neither less nor more than a secret revenge, which\nis forbidden by the laws of God and man.\nIf, on the other hand, I give a good character of the man, or of his\nreputation, I mean, of his credit in business, in order to have the\ninquirer trust him, and at the same time know or believe that he is not\na sound and good man (that is, as to trade, for it is his character in\ntrade that I am speaking of), what am I doing then? It is plain I lay a\nsnare for the inquirer, and am at least instrumental to his loss,\nwithout having really any design to hurt him; for it is to be supposed,\nbefore he came to me to inquire, I had no view of acting any thing to\nhis prejudice.\nAgain, there is no medium, for to refuse or decline giving a character\nof the man, is downright giving him the worst character I can--it is, in\nshort, shooting him through the head in his trade. A man comes to me for\na character of my neighbouring tradesman; I answer him with a repulse to\nhis inquiry thus--\n_A_.--Good sir, do not ask me the character of my neighbours--I resolve\nto meddle with nobody's character; pray, do not inquire of me.\n_B_.--Well, but, sir, you know the gentleman; you live next door to him;\nyou can tell me, if you please, all that I desire to know, whether he is\na man in credit, and fit to be trusted, or no, in the way of his\nbusiness.\n_A_.--I tell you, sir, I meddle with no man's business; I will not give\ncharacters of my neighbours--it is an ill office--a man gets no thanks\nfor it, and perhaps deserves none.\n_B_.--But, sir, you would be willing to be informed and advised, if it\nwere your own case.\n_A_.--It may be so, but I cannot oblige people to inform me.\n_B_.--But you would entreat it as a favour, and so I come to you.\n_A_.--But you may go to any body else.\n_B_.--But you are a man of integrity; I can depend upon what you say; I\nknow you will not deceive me; and, therefore, I beg of you to satisfy\nme.\n_A_.--But I desire you to excuse me, for it is what I never do--I cannot\ndo it.\n_B_.--But, sir, I am in a great strait; I am just selling him a great\nparcel of goods, and I am willing to sell them too, and yet I am willing\nto be safe, as you would yourself, if you were in my case.\n_A_.--I tell you, sir, I have always resolved to forbear meddling with\nthe characters of my neighbours--it is an ill office. Besides, I mind my\nown business; I do not enter into the inquiries after other people's\naffairs.\n_B_.--Well, sir, I understand you, then; I know what I have to do.\n_A_.--What do you mean by that?\n_B_.--Nothing, sir, but what I suppose you would have me understand by\nit.\n_A_.--I would have you understand what I say--namely, that I will\nmeddle with nobody's business but my own.\n_B_.--And I say I understand you; I know you are a good man, and a man\nof charity, and loth to do your neighbours any prejudice, and that you\nwill speak the best of every man as near as you can.\n_A_.--I tell you, I speak neither the best nor the worst--I speak\nnothing.\n_B_.--Well, sir, that is to say, that as charity directs you to speak\nwell of every man, so, when you cannot speak well, you refrain, and will\nsay nothing; and you do very well, to be sure; you are a very kind\nneighbour.\n_A_.--But that is a base construction of my words; for I tell you, I do\nthe like by every body.\n_B_.--Yes, sir, I believe you do, and I think you are in the right of\nit--am fully satisfied.\n_A_.--You act more unjustly by me than by my neighbour; for you take my\nsilence, or declining to give a character, to be giving an ill\ncharacter.\n_B_.--No, sir, not for an ill character.\n_A_.--But I find you take it for a ground of suspicion.\n_B_.--I take it, indeed, for a due caution to me, sir; but the man may\nbe a good man for all that, only--\n_A_.--Only what? I understand you--only you won't trust him with your\ngoods.\n_B_.--But another man may, sir, for all that, so that you have been kind\nto your neighbours and to me too, sir--and you are very just. I wish all\nmen would act so one by another; I should feel the benefit of it myself\namong others, for I have suffered deeply by ill tongues, I am sure.\n_A_.--Well, however unjust you are to me, and to my neighbour too, I\nwill not undeceive you at present; I think you do not deserve it.\nHe used a great many more words with him to convince him that he did not\nmean any discredit to his neighbour tradesman; but it was all one; he\nwould have it be, that his declining to give his said neighbour a good\ncharacter was giving him an ill character, which the other told him was\na wrong inference. However, he found that the man stood by his own\nnotion of it, and declined trusting the tradesman with the goods, though\nhe was satisfied he (the tradesman) was a sufficient man.\nUpon this, he was a little uneasy, imagining that he had been the cause\nof it, as indeed he had, next to the positive humour of the inquirer,\nthough it was not really his fault; neither was the construction the\nother made of it just to his intention, for he aimed at freeing himself\nfrom all inquiries of that nature, but found there was no prevailing\nwith him to understand it any other way than he did; so, to requite the\nman a little in his own way, he contrived the following method: he met\nwith him two or three days after, and asked him if he had sold his goods\nto the person his neighbour?\n'No,' says he; 'you know I would not.'\n'Nay,' says the other, 'I only knew you said so; I did not think you\nwould have acted so from what I said, nor do I think I gave you any\nreason.'\n'Why,' says he, 'I knew you would have given him a good character if you\ncould, and I knew you were too honest to do it, if you were not sure it\nwas just.'\n'The last part I hope is true, but you might have believed me honest\ntoo, in what I did say, that I had resolved to give no characters of any\nbody.'\n'As to that, I took it, as any body would, to be the best and modestest\nway of covering what you would not have be disclosed, namely, that you\ncould not speak as you would; and I also judged that you therefore chose\nto say nothing.'\n'Well, I can say no more but this; you are not just to me in it, and I\nthink you are not just to yourself neither.'\nThey parted again upon this, and the next day the first tradesman, who\nhad been so pressed to give a character of his neighbour, sent a man to\nbuy the parcel of goods of the other tradesman, and offering him ready\nmoney, bought them considerably cheaper than the neighbour-tradesman was\nto have given for them, besides reckoning a reasonable discount for the\ntime, which was four months, that the first tradesman was to have given\nto his neighbour.\nAs soon as he had done, he went and told the neighbour-tradesman what he\nhad done, and the reason of it, and sold the whole parcel to him again,\ngiving the same four months' credit for them as the first man was to\nhave given, and taking the discount for time only to himself, gave him\nall the advantage of the buying, and gave the first man the\nmortification of knowing it all, and that the goods were not only for\nthe same man, but that the very tradesman, whom he would not believe\nwhen he declined giving a character of any man in general, had trusted\nhim with them.\nHe pretended to be very angry, and to take it very ill; but the other\ntold him, that when he came to him for a character of the man, and he\ntold him honestly, that he would give no characters at all, that it was\nnot for any ill to his neighbour that he declined it, he ought to have\nbelieved him; and that he hoped, when he wanted a character of any of\nhis neighbours again, he would not come to him for it.\nThis story is to my purpose in this particular, which is indeed very\nsignificant; that it is the most difficult thing of its kind in the\nworld to avoid giving characters of our neighbouring tradesmen; and\nthat, let your reasons for it be what they will, to refuse giving a\ncharacter is giving a bad character, and is generally so taken, whatever\ncaution or arguments you use to the contrary.\nIn the next place, it is hard indeed, if an honest neighbour be in\ndanger of selling a large parcel of goods to a fellow, who I may know it\nis not likely should be able to pay for them, though his credit may in\nthe common appearance be pretty good at that time; and what must I do?\nIf I discover the man's circumstances, which perhaps I am let into by\nsome accident, I say, if I discover them, the man is undone; and if I do\nnot, the tradesman, who is in danger of trusting him, is undone.\nI confess the way is clear, if I am obliged to speak at all in the case:\nthe man unsound is already a bankrupt at bottom, and must fail, but the\nother man is sound and firm, if this disaster does not befall him: the\nfirst has no wound given him, but negatively; he stands where he stood\nbefore; whereas the other is drawn in perhaps to his own ruin. In the\nnext place, the first is a knave, or rather thief, for he offers to buy,\nand knows he cannot pay; in a word, he offers to cheat his neighbour;\nand if I know it, I am so far confederate with him in the cheat.\nIn this case I think I am obliged to give the honest man a due caution\nfor his safety, if he desires my advice; I cannot say I am obliged\nofficiously to go out of my way to do it, unless I am any way interested\nin the person--for that would be to dip into other men's affairs, which\nis not my proper work; and if I should any way be misinformed of the\ncircumstances of the tradesman I am to speak of, and wrong him, I may be\ninstrumental to bring ruin causelessly upon him.\nIn a word, it is a very nice and critical case, and a tradesman ought to\nbe very sure of what he says or does in such a case, the good or evil\nfate of his neighbour lying much at stake, and depending too much on the\nbreath of his mouth. Every part of this discourse shows how much a\ntradesman's welfare depends upon the justice and courtesy of his\nneighbours, and how nice and critical a thing his reputation is.\nThis, well considered, would always keep a tradesman humble, and show\nhim what need he has to behave courteously and obligingly among his\nneighbours; for one malicious word from a man much meaner than himself,\nmay overthrow him in such a manner, as all the friends he has may not be\nable to recover him; a tradesman, if possible, should never make himself\nany enemies.\nBut if it is so fatal a thing to tradesmen to give characters of one\nanother, and that a tradesman should be so backward in it for fear of\nhurting his neighbour, and that, notwithstanding the character given\nshould be just, and the particular reported of him should be true, with\nhow much greater caution should we act in like cases where what is\nsuggested is really false in fact, and the tradesman is innocent, as was\nthe case in the tradesman mentioned before about courting the lady. If a\ntradesman may be ruined and undone by a true report, much more may he be\nso by a false report, by a malicious, slandering, defaming tongue. There\nis an artful way of talking of other people's reputation, which really,\nhowever some people salve the matter, is equal, if not superior, in\nmalice to the worst thing they can say; this is, by rendering them\nsuspected, talking doubtfully of their characters, and of their conduct,\nand rendering them first doubtful, and then strongly suspected. I don't\nknow what to say to such a man. A gentleman came to me the other day,\nbut I knew not what to say; I dare not say he is a good man, or that I\nwould trust him with five hundred pounds myself; if I should say so, I\nshould belie my own opinion. I do not know, indeed, he may be a good man\nat bottom, but I cannot say he minds his business; if I should, I must\nlie; I think he keeps a great deal of company, and the like.\nAnother, he is asked of the currency of his payments, and he answers\nsuspiciously on that side too; I know not what to say, he may pay them\nat last, but he does not pay them the most currently of any man in the\nstreet, and I have heard saucy boys huff him at his door for bills, on\nhis endeavouring to put them off; indeed, I must needs say I had a bill\non him a few weeks ago for a hundred pounds, and he paid me very\ncurrently, and without any dunning, or often calling upon, but it was I\nbelieve because I offered him a bargain at that time, and I supposed he\nwas resolved to put a good face upon his credit.\nA tradesman, that would do as he would be done by, should carefully\navoid these people who come always about, inquiring after other\ntradesman's characters. There are men who make it their business to do\nthus; and as they are thereby as ready to ruin and blow up good\nfair-dealing tradesmen as others, so they do actually surprise many, and\ncome at their characters earlier and nearer than they expect they would.\nTradesmen, I say, that will thus behave to one another, cannot be\nsupposed to be men of much principle, but will be apt to lay hold of any\nother advantage, how unjust soever, and, indeed, will wait for an\noccasion of such advantages; and where is there a tradesman, but who, if\nhe be never so circumspect, may some time or other give his neighbour,\nwho watches for his halting, advantage enough against him. When such a\nmalicious tradesman appears in any place, all the honest tradesmen about\nhim ought to join to expose him, whether they are afraid of him or no:\nthey should blow him among the neighbourhood, as a public nuisance, as a\ncommon _barrettor_, or raiser of scandal; by such a general aversion to\nhim they would depreciate him, and bring him into so just a contempt,\nthat no body would keep him company, much less credit any thing he said;\nand then his tongue would be no slander, and his breath would be no\nblast, and nobody would either tell him any thing, or hear any thing\nfrom him: and this kind of usage, I think, is the only way to put a stop\nto a defamer; for when he has no credit of his own left, he would be\nunable to hurt any of his neighbour's.\nCHAPTER XVI\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S ENTERING INTO PARTNERSHIP IN TRADE, AND THE MANY\nDANGERS ATTENDING IT\nThere are some businesses which are more particularly accustomed to\npartnerships than others, and some that are very seldom managed without\ntwo, three, or four partners, and others that cannot be at all carried\non without partnership; and there are those again, in which they seldom\njoin partners together.\nMercers, linen-drapers, banking goldsmiths, and such considerable\ntrades, are often, and indeed generally, carried on in partnership; but\nother meaner trades, and of less business, are carried on, generally\nspeaking, single-handed.\nSome merchants, who carry on great business in foreign ports, have what\nthey call houses in those ports, where they plant and breed up their\nsons and apprentices; and these are such as I hinted could not carry on\ntheir business without partnership.\nThe trading in partnership is not only liable to more hazards and\ndifficulties, but it exposes the tradesman to more snares and\ndisadvantages by a great deal, than the trading with a single hand does;\nand some of those snares are these:--\n1. If the partner is a stirring, diligent, capable man, there is danger\nof his slipping into the whole trade, and, getting in between you and\nhome, by his application, thrusting you at last quite out; so that you\nbring in a snake into your chimney corner, which, when it is warmed and\ngrown vigorous, turns about at you, and hisses you out of the house. It\nis with the tradesman, in the case of a diligent and active partner, as\nI have already observed it was in the case of a trusty and diligent\napprentice, namely, that if the master does not appear constantly at the\nhead of the business, and make himself be known by his own application\nand diligence to be what he is, he shall soon look to be what he is not,\nthat is to say, one not concerned in the business.\nHe will never fail to be esteemed the principal person concerned in the\nshop, and in the trade, who is principally and most constantly found\nthere, acting at the head of every business; and be it a servant or a\npartner, the master or chief loses himself extremely by the advances the\nother makes of that kind; for, whenever they part again, either the\napprentice by being out of his time, or the partner by the expiration of\nthe articles of partnership, or by any other determination of their\nagreement, the customers most certainly desire to deal with the man whom\nthey have so often been obliged by; and if they miss him, inquire after\nand follow him.\nIt is true, the apprentice is the more dangerous of the two, because his\nseparation is supposed to be more certain, and generally sooner than the\npartner; the apprentice is not known, and cannot have made his interest\namong the buyers, but for perhaps a year, or a year and a half, before\nhis time expired: sooner than that he could not put himself in the way\nof being known and observed; and then, when his time is out, he\ncertainly removes, unless he is taken into the shop as a partner, and\nthat, indeed, prolongs the time, and places the injury at a greater\ndistance, but still it makes it the more influencing when it comes; and\nunless he is brought some how or other into the family, and becomes one\nof the house, perhaps by marriage, or some other settled union with the\nmaster, he never goes off without making a great chasm in the master's\naffairs, and the more, by how much he has been more diligent and useful\nin the trade, the wounds of which the master seldom if ever recovers.\nIf the partner were not an apprentice, but that they either came out of\ntheir times together, or near it, or had a shop and business before, but\nquitted it to come in, it may then be said that he brought part of the\ntrade with him, and so increased the trade when he joined with the other\nin proportion to what he may be said to carry away when he went off;\nthis is the best thing that can be said of a partnership; and then I\nhave this to add, first, that the tradesman who took the partner in has\na fair field, indeed, to act in with his partner, and must take care, by\nhis constant attendance, due acquaintance with the customers, and\nappearing in every part of the business, to maintain not his interest\nonly, but the appearance of his interest, in the shop or warehouse, that\nhe may, on every occasion, and to every customer, not only be, but be\nknown to be, the master and head of the business; and that the other is\nat best but a partner, and not a chief partner, as, in case of his\nabsence and negligence, will presently be suggested; for he that chiefly\nappears will be always chief partner in the eye of the customers,\nwhatever he is in the substance of the thing.\nThis, indeed, is much the same case with what is said before of a\ndiligent servant, and a negligent master, and therefore I forbear to\nenlarge upon it; but it is so important in both cases, that indeed it\ncannot well be mentioned too often: the master's full application, in\nhis own person, is the only answer to both. He that takes a partner only\nto ease him of the toil of his business, that he may take his pleasure,\nand leave the drudgery, as they call it, to the partner, should take\ncare not to do it till about seven years before he resolves to leave\noff trade, that, at the end of the partnership, he may be satisfied to\ngive up the trade to his partner, or see him run away with it, and not\ntrouble himself about it.\nBut if he takes a partner at his beginning, with an intent, by their\njoint enlarged stock, to enlarge their business, and so carry on a\ncapital trade, which perhaps neither of them were able to do by\nthemselves, and which is the only justifiable reason for taking a\npartner at all, he must resolve then to join with his partner, not only\nin stock, but in mutual diligence and application, that the trade may\nflourish by their joint assistance and constant labour, as two oxen\nyoked together in the same draught, by their joint assistance, draw much\nmore than double what they could either of them draw by their single\nstrength; and this, indeed, is the only safe circumstance of a\npartnership: then, indeed, they are properly partners when they are\nassistants to one another, whereas otherwise they are like two gamesters\nstriving to worm one another out, and to get the mastery in the play\nthey are engaged in.\nThe very word _partner_ imports the substance of the thing, and they\nare, as such, engaged to a mutual application, or they are no more\npartners, but rather one is the trading gentleman, and the other is the\ntrading drudge; but even then, let them depend, the drudge will carry\naway the trade, and the profit too, at last. And this is the way how one\npartner may honestly ruin another, and for ought I know it is the only\none: for it cannot be said but that the diligent partner acts honestly\nin acting diligently, and if the other did the same, they would both\nthrive alike; but if one is negligent and the other diligent, one\nextravagant and expensive, the other frugal and prudent, it cannot be\nsaid to be his fault that one is rich and the other poor--that one\nincreases in the stock, and the other is lessened, and at last worked\nquite out of it.\nAs a partner, then, is taken in only for ease, to abate the first\ntradesman's diligence, and take off the edge of his application, so far\na partner, let him be as honest and diligent as he will, is dangerous to\nthe tradesman--nay, the more honest and the more diligent he is, the\nmore dangerous he is, and the more a snare to the tradesman that takes\nhim in; and a tradesman ought to be very cautious in the adventure, for,\nindeed, it is an adventure--that he be not brought in time to relax his\ndiligence, by having a partner, even contrary to his first intention;\nfor laziness is a subtle insinuating thing, and it is a sore temptation\nto a man of ease and indolence to see his work done for him, and less\nneed of him in the business than used to be, and yet the business to go\non well too; and this danger is dormant, and lies unseen, till after\nseveral years it rises, as it were, out of its ambuscade, and surprises\nthe tradesman, letting him see by his loss what his neglect has cost\nhim.\n2. But there are other dangers in partnership, and those not a few; for\nyou may not only be remiss and negligent, remitting the weight of the\nbusiness upon him, and depending upon him for its being carried on, by\nwhich he makes himself master, and brings you to be forgot in the\nbusiness; but he may be crafty too, and designing in all this, and when\nhe has thus brought you to be as it were _nobody_, he shall make himself\nbe all _somebody_ in the trade, and in that particular he by degrees\ngets the capital interest, as well as stock in the trade, while the true\noriginal of the shop, who laid the foundation of the whole business,\nbrought a trade to the shop, or brought commissions to the house, and\nwhose the business more particularly is, is secretly supplanted, and\nwith the concurrence of his own negligence--for without that it cannot\nbe--is, as it were, laid aside, and at last quite thrust out.\nThus, whether honest or dishonest, the tradesman is circumvented, and\nthe partnership is made fatal to him; for it was all owing to the\npartnership the tradesman was diligent before, understood his business,\nand kept close to it, gave up his time to it, and by employing himself,\nprevented the indolence which he finds breaking insensibly upon him\nafterwards, by being made easy, as they call it, in the assistance of a\npartner.\n3. But there are abundance of other cases which make a partnership\ndangerous; for if it be so where the partner is honest and diligent, and\nwhere he works into the heart of the business by his industry and\napplication, or by his craft and insinuation, what may it not be if he\nproves idle and extravagant; and if, instead of working him out, he may\nbe said to play him out of the business, that is to say, prove wild,\nexpensive, and run himself and his partner out by his extravagance?\nThere are but too many examples of this kind; and here the honest\ntradesman has the labouring oar indeed; for instead of being assisted by\na diligent industrious partner, whom on that account he took into the\ntrade, he proves a loose, extravagant, wild fellow, runs abroad into\ncompany, and leaves him (for whose relief he was taken in) to bear the\nburden of the whole trade, which, perhaps, was too heavy for him before,\nand if it had not been so, he had not been prevailed with to have taken\nin a partner at all.\nThis is, indeed, a terrible disappointment, and is very discouraging,\nand the more so, because it cannot be recalled; for a partnership is\nlike matrimony, it is almost engaged in for better or for worse, till\nthe years expire; there is no breaking it off, at least, not easily nor\nfairly, but all the inconveniences which are to be feared will follow\nand stare in your face: as, first, the partner in the first place draws\nout all his stock; and this sometimes is a blow fatal enough, for\nperhaps the partner cannot take the whole trade upon himself, and cannot\ncarry on the trade upon his own stock: if he could, he would not have\ntaken in a partner at all. This withdrawing the stock has sometimes been\nvery dangerous to a partner; nay, has many times been the overthrow and\nundoing of him and of the family that is left.\nHe that takes a partner into his trade on this account--namely, for the\nsupport of his stock, to enjoy the assistance of so much cash to carry\non the trade, ought seriously to consider what he shall be able to do\nwhen the partner, breaking off the partnership, shall carry all his\nstock, and the improvement of it too, with him: perhaps the tradesman's\nstock is not much increased, perhaps not at all; nay, perhaps the stock\nis lessened, instead of being increased, and they have rather gone\nbackward than forward. What shall the tradesman do in such a case? And\nhow shall he bear the breach in his stock which that separation would\nmake?\nThus he is either tied down to the partner, or the partner is pinned\ndown to him, for he cannot separate without a breach. It is a sad truth\nto many a partner, that when the partnership comes to be finished and\nexpired, the man would let his partner go, but the other cannot go\nwithout tearing him all to pieces whom he leaves behind him; and yet the\npartner being loose, idle, and extravagant, in a word, will ruin both if\nhe stays.\nThis is the danger of partnership in some of the best circumstances of\nit; but how hazardous and how fatal is it in other cases! And how many\nan honest and industrious tradesman has been prevailed with to take in a\npartner to ease himself in the weight of the business, or on several\nother accounts, some perhaps reasonable and prudent enough, but has\nfound himself immediately involved in a sea of trouble, is brought into\ninnumerable difficulties, concealed debts, and unknown incumbrances,\nsuch as he could no ways extricate himself out of, and so both have been\nunavoidably ruined together!\nThese cases are so various and so uncertain, that it is not easy to\nenumerate them: but we may include the particulars in a general or two.\n1. One partner may contract debts, even in the partnership itself, so\nfar unknown to the other, as that the other may be involved in the\ndanger of them, though he was not at all concerned in, or acquainted\nwith, them at the same time they were contracted.\n2. One partner may discharge debts for both partners; and so, having a\ndesign to be knavish, may go and receive money, and give receipts for\nit, and not bringing it to account, or not bringing the money into cash,\nmay wrong the stock to so considerable a sum as may be to the ruin of\nthe other partner.\n3. One partner may confess judgment, or give bonds, or current notes in\nthe name, and as for the account of the company, and yet convert the\neffects to his own private use, leaving the stock to be answerable for\nthe value.\n4. One partner may sell and give credit, and deliver parcels of goods to\nwhat sum, or what quantity, he thinks fit, and to whom, and so, by his\nindiscretion, or perhaps by connivance and knavery, lose to the stock\nwhat parcel of goods he pleases, to the ruin of the other partner, and\nbring themselves to be both bankrupt together.\n5. Nay, to sum up all, one partner may commit acts of bankruptcy without\nthe knowledge of the other, and thereby subject the united stock, and\nboth or all the partners, to the danger of a commission, when they may\nthemselves know nothing of it till the blow is given, and given so as to\nbe too late to be retrieved.\nAll these, and many more, being the ill consequences and dangers of\npartnership in trade, I cannot but seriously warn the honest industrious\ntradesman, if possible, to stand upon his own legs, and go on upon his\nown bottom; to pursue his business diligently, but cautiously, and what\nwe call fair and softly; not eagerly pushing to drive a vast trade, and\nenjoy but half of it, rather carry on a middling business, and let it be\nhis own.\nThere may be cases, indeed, which may have their exceptions to this\ngeneral head of advice; partnerships may sometimes prove successful, and\nin some particular business they are more necessary than in others, and\nin some they tell us that they are absolutely necessary, though the last\nI can by no means grant; but be that as it will, there are so many cases\nmore in number, and of great consequence too, which miscarry by the\nseveral perplexed circumstances, differing tempers, and open knavery of\npartners, that I cannot but give it as a friendly advice to all\ntradesmen--if possible, to avoid partnerships of all kinds.\nBut if the circumstances of trade require partnerships, and the risk\nmust be run, I would recommend to the tradesman not to enter into\npartnerships, but under the following circumstances:--\n1. Not to take in any partner who should be allowed to carry on any\nseparate business, in which the partnership is not concerned. Depend\nupon it, whatever other business your partner carries on, you run the\nrisk of it as much as you do of your own; and you run the risk with this\nparticular circumstance too, that you have the hazard without the profit\nor success: that is, without a share in the profit or success, which is\nvery unequal and unfair. I know cunning men will tell you, that there\nmay be provision made so effectually in the articles of partnership,\nthat the stock in partnership should be concerned in no other interest\nor engagements but its own; but let such cunning gentlemen tell me, if\nthe partner meets with a disappointment in his other undertakings, which\nwounds him so deep as to break him, will it not affect the partnership\nthus far? 1. That it may cause his stock to be drawn hastily out, and\nperhaps violently too. 2. That it touches and taints the credit of the\npartner to be concerned with such a man; and though a man's bottom may\nsupport him, if it be very good, yet it is a blow to him, touches his\ncredit, and makes the world stand a little at a stay about him, if it be\nno more, for a while, till they see that he shows himself upon the\nExchange, or at his shop-door again, in spite of all the apprehensions\nand doubts that have been handed about concerning him. Either of these\nare so essential to the tradesman, whose partner thus sinks by his own\nprivate breaches, in which the parnership is not concerned, that it is\nworth while to caution the tradesman against venturing. And I must add,\ntoo, that many a tradesman has fallen under the disaster by the\npartner's affairs thus affecting him, though the immediate losses which\nthe partner had suffered have not been charged upon him; and yet I\nbelieve it is not so easy to avoid being fallen upon for those debts\nalso.\nIt is certain, as I formerly noted, rumour will break a tradesman almost\nat any time. It matters not, at first, whether the rumour be true or\nfalse. What rumour can sit closer to a man in business--his own personal\nmisfortunes excepted--than such as this-_that his partner is broke?_\nThat his partner has met with a loss, suppose an insurance, suppose a\nfall of stocks, suppose a bubble or a cheat, or we know not what, the\npartner is sunk, no man knows whether the partnership be concerned in it\nor no; and while it is not known, every man will suppose it, for mankind\nalways think the worst of every thing.\nWhat can be a closer stroke at the poor tradesman? He knows not what his\npartner has done; he has reason to fear the worst; he even knows not\nhimself, for a while, whether he can steer clear of the rocks or no; but\nsoon recovers, knows his own circumstances, and struggles hard with the\nworld, pays out his partner's stock, and gets happily over it. And it is\nwell he does so, for that he is at the brink of ruin must be granted;\nand where one stands and keeps up his reputation and his business, there\nare twenty would be undone in the same circumstance.\nWho, then, would run the venture of a partner, if it were possible to\navoid it? And who, if they must have a partner, would have one that was\nconcerned in separate business, in which the partnership was not\nengaged?\n2. If you must have a partner, always choose to have the partner rather\nunder than over you; by this I mean, take him in for a fifth, a fourth,\nor at most a third, never for a half. There are many reasons to be given\nfor this, besides that of having the greater share of profits, for that\nI do not give as a reason here at all; but the principal reasons are\nthese:--First, in case of any disaster in any of the particular supposed\naccidents which I have mentioned, and that you should be obliged to pay\nout your partner's stock, it will not be so heavy, or be so much a blow\nto you: and, secondly, you preserve to yourself the governing influence\nin your own business; you cannot be overruled, overawed, or dogmatically\ntold, it shall, or shall not, be thus, or thus. He that takes in a\npartner for a third, has a partner servant; he that takes him in for a\nhalf, has a partner master--that is to say, a director, or preceptor:\nlet your partner have always a lesser interest in the business than\nyourself, and be rather less acquainted with the business than yourself,\nat least not better. You should rather have a partner to be instructed,\nthan a partner to instruct you; for he that teaches you, will always\ntaunt you.\n3. If you must have a partner, let him always be your junior, rather\nthan your senior; by this I mean, your junior in business, whether he is\nso in years or not. There are many reasons why the tradesman should\nchoose this, and particularly the same as the other of taking him in for\na junior or inferior part of the trade--that is to say, to maintain the\nsuperiority of the business in his own hands; and this I mention, not at\nall upon account of the pride or vanity of the superiority, for that is\na trifle compared to the rest; but that he may have the more authority\nto inspect the conduct of his partner, in which he is so much and so\nessentially concerned; and to inquire whether he is doing any thing, or\ntaking any measures, dangerous or prejudicial to the stock, or to the\ncredit of the partnership, that so if he finds any thing, he may\nrestrain him, and prevent in time the mischief which would otherwise be\ninevitable to them both.\nThere are many other advantages to a tradesman who is obliged to take a\npartner, by keeping in his own hands the major part of the trade, which\nare too long to repeat here; such as his being always able to put a\ncheck to any rash adventure, any launching out into bubbles and\nprojects, and things dangerous to the business: and this is a very\nneedful thing in a partnership, that one partner should be able to\ncorrect the rash resolves of another in hazardous cases.\nBy this correcting of rash measures, I mean over-ruling them with\nmoderation and temper, for the good of the whole, and for their mutual\nadvantage. The Romans frequently had two generals, or consuls, to\ncommand their armies in the field: one of which was to be a young man,\nthat by his vigour and sprightly forwardness he might keep up the\nspirits and courage of the soldiers, encourage them to fight, and lead\nthem on by his example; the other an old soldier, that by his experience\nin the military affairs, age, and counsels, he might a little abate the\nfire of his colleague, and might not only know how to fight, but know\nwhen to fight, that is to say, when to avoid fighting; and the want of\nthis lost them many a victory, and the great battle of Cannae in\nparticular, in which 80,000 Romans were killed in one day.\nTo compare small things with great, I may say it is just so in the\naffair of trade. You should always join a sober grave head, weighed to\nbusiness, and acquainted with trade, to the young trader, who having\nbeen young in the work will the easier give up his judgment to the\nother, and who is governed with the solid experience of the other; and\nso you join their ways together, the rash and the sedate, the grave and\nthe giddy.\nAgain, if you must go into partnership, be sure, if possible, you take\nnobody into partnership but such as whose circumstances in trade you are\nfully acquainted with. Such there are frequently to be had among\nrelations and neighbours, and such, if possible, should be the man that\nis taken into partnership, that the hazard of unsound circumstances may\nbe avoided. A man may else be taken into partnership who may be really\nbankrupt even before you take him; and such things have been done, to\nthe ruin of many an honest tradesman.\nIf possible, let your partner be a beginner, that his stock may be\nreasonably supposed to be free and unentangled; and let him be one that\nyou know personally, and his circumstances, and did know even before you\nhad any thoughts of engaging together.\nAll these cautions are with a supposition that the partner must be had;\nbut I must still give it as my opinion, in the case of such tradesmen as\nI have all along directed myself to, that if possible they should go on\nsingle-handed in trade; and I close it with this brief note, respecting\nthe qualifications of a partner, as above, that, next to no partner,\nsuch a partner is best.\nCHAPTER XVII\nOF HONESTY IN DEALING, AND LYING\nThere is some difference between an honest man and an honest tradesman;\nand though the distinction is very nice, yet, I must say, it is to be\nsupported. Trade cannot make a knave of an honest man, for there is a\nspecific difference between honesty and knavery which can never be\naltered by trade or any other thing; nor can that integrity of mind\nwhich describes and is peculiar to a man of honesty be ever abated to a\ntradesman; the rectitude of his soul must be the same, and he must not\nonly intend or mean honestly and justly, but he must do so; he must act\nhonestly and justly, and that in all his dealings; he must neither cheat\nnor defraud, over-reach nor circumvent his neighbour, nor indeed anybody\nhe deals with; nor must he design to do so, or lay any plots or snares\nto that purpose in his dealing, as is frequent in the general conduct of\ntoo many, who yet call themselves honest tradesmen, and would take it\nvery ill to have any one tax their integrity.\nBut after all this is premised, there are some latitudes, like poetical\nlicences in other cases, which a tradesman is and must be allowed, and\nwhich by the custom and usage of trade he may give himself a liberty in,\nwhich cannot be allowed in other cases to any man, no, nor to the\ntradesman himself out of his business--I say, he may take some\nliberties, but within bounds; and whatever some pretenders to strict\nliving may say, yet that tradesman shall pass with me for a very honest\nman, notwithstanding the liberty which he gives himself of this kind, if\nhe does not take those liberties in an exorbitant manner; and those\nliberties are such as these.\n1. The liberty of asking more than he will take. I know some people have\ncondemned this practice as dishonest, and the Quakers for a time stood\nto their point in the contrary practice, resolving to ask no more than\nthey would take, upon any occasion whatsoever, and choosing rather to\nlose the selling of their goods, though they could afford sometimes to\ntake what was offered, rather than abate a farthing of the price they\nhad asked; but time and the necessities of trade made them wiser, and\nbrought them off of that severity, and they by degrees came to ask, and\nabate, and abate again, just as other business tradesmen do, though not\nperhaps as some do, who give themselves a fuller liberty that way.\nIndeed, it is the buyers that make this custom necessary; for they,\nespecially those who buy for immediate use, will first pretend\npositively to tie themselves up to a limited price, and bid them a\nlittle and a little more, till they come so near the sellers' price,\nthat they, the sellers, cannot find in their hearts to refuse it, and\nthen they are tempted to take it, notwithstanding their first words to\nthe contrary. It is common, indeed, for the tradesman to say, 'I cannot\nabate anything,' when yet they do and can afford it; but the tradesman\nshould indeed not be understood strictly and literally to his words, but\nas he means it, namely, that he cannot reasonably abate, and that he\ncannot afford to abate: and there he may be in earnest, namely, that he\ncannot make a reasonable profit of his goods, if he is obliged to abate,\nand so the meaning is honest, that he cannot abate; and yet rather than\nnot take your money, he may at last resolve to do it, in hopes of\ngetting a better price for the remainder, or being willing to abate his\nordinary gain, rather than disoblige the customer; or being perhaps\nafraid he should not sell off the quantity; and many such reasons may be\ngiven why he submits to sell at a lower price than he really intended,\nor can afford to do; and yet he cannot be said to be dishonest, or to\nlie, in saying at first he cannot, or could not, abate.\nA man in trade is properly to be said not to be able to do what he\ncannot do to his profit and advantage. The English cannot trade to\nHungary, and into Slavonia--that is to say, they cannot do it to\nadvantage; but it is better for them to trade to Venice with their\ngoods, and let the Venetians carry on a trade into Hungary through\nDalmatia, Croatia, &c, and the like in other places.\nTo bring it down to particular cases: one certain merchant cannot deal\nin one sort of goods which another merchant is eminent for; the other\nmerchant is as free to the trade as he, but he cannot do it to profit;\nfor he is unacquainted with the trade, and it is out of his way, and\ntherefore he cannot do it.\nThus, to the case in hand. The tradesman says he cannot sell his goods\nunder such a price, which in the sense of his business is true; that is\nto say, he cannot do it to carry on his trade with the usual and\nreasonable advantage which he ought to expect, and which others make in\nthe same way of business.\nOr, he cannot, without underselling the market, and undervaluing the\ngoods, and seeming to undersell his neighbour-shopkeepers, to whom there\nis a justice due in trade, which respects the price of sale; and to\nundersell is looked upon as an unfair kind of trading.\nAll these, and many more, are the reasons why a tradesman may be said\nnot to lie, though he should say he _cannot_ abate, or _cannot_ sell his\ngoods under such a price, and yet may after think fit to sell you his\ngoods something lower than he so intended, or can afford to do, rather\nthan lose your custom, or rather than lose the selling of his goods, and\ntaking your ready money, which at that time he may have occasion for.\nIn these cases, I cannot say a shopkeeper should be tied down to the\nliteral meaning of his words in the price he asks, or that he is guilty\nof lying in not adhering stiffly to the letter of his first demand;\nthough, at the same time, I would have every tradesman take as little\nliberty that way as may be: and if the buyer would expect the tradesman\nshould keep strictly to his demand, he should not stand and haggle, and\nscrew the shopkeeper down, bidding from one penny to another, to a\ntrifle within his price, so, as it were, to push him to the extremity,\neither to turn away his customer for a sixpence, or some such trifle, or\nto break his word: as if he would say, I will force you to speak\nfalsely, or turn me away for a trifle.\nIn such cases, if, indeed, there is a breach, the sin is the buyer's: at\nleast, he puts himself in the devil's stead, and makes himself both\ntempter and accuser; nor can I say that the seller is in that case so\nmuch to blame as the buyer. However, it were to be wished that on both\nsides buying and selling might be carried on without it; for the buyer\nas often says, 'I won't give a farthing more,' and yet advances, as the\nseller says, 'I can't abate a farthing,' and yet complies. These are, as\nI call them, _trading lies_; and it were to be wished they could be\navoided on both sides; and the honest tradesman does avoid them as much\nas possible, but yet must not, I say, in all cases, be tied up to the\nstrict, literal sense of that expression, _I cannot abate_, as\nabove.[26]\n2. Another trading licence is that of appointing, and promising payments\nof money, which men in business are oftentimes forced to make, and\nforced to break, without any scrupple; nay, and without any reproach\nupon their integrity. Let us state this case as clearly as we can, and\nsee how it stands as to the morality of it, for that is the point in\ndebate.\nThe credit usually given by one tradesman to another, as particularly by\nthe merchant to the wholesale-man, and by the wholesale-man to the\nretailer, is such, that, without tying the buyer up to a particular day\nof payment, they go on buying and selling, and the buyer pays money upon\naccount, as his convenience admits, and as the seller is content to take\nit. This occasions the merchant, or the wholesale-man, to go about, as\nthey call it, _a-dunning_ among their dealers, and which is generally\nthe work of every Saturday. When the merchant comes to his customer the\nwholesale-man, or warehouse-keeper, for money, he tells him, 'I have no\nmoney, Sir; I cannot pay you now; if you call next week, I will pay\nyou.' Next week comes, and the merchant calls again; but it is the same\nthing, only the warehouseman adds, 'Well, I will pay you next week,\n_without fail.'_ When the week comes, he tells him he has met with great\ndisappointments, and he knows not what to do, but desires his patience\nanother week: and when the other week comes, perhaps he pays him, and so\nthey go on.\nNow, what is to be said for this? In the first place, let us look back\nto the occasion. This warehouse-keeper, or wholesale-man, sells the\ngoods which he buys of the merchant--I say, he sells them to the\nretailers, and it is for that reason I place it first there. Now, as\nthey buy in smaller quantities than he did of the merchant, so he deals\nwith more of them in number, and he goes about among them the same\nSaturday, to get in money that he may pay his merchant, and he receives\nhis bag full of promises, too, every where instead of money, and is put\noff from week to week, perhaps by fifty shopkeepers in a day; and their\nserving him thus obliges him to do the same to the merchant.\nAgain, come to the merchant. Except some, whose circumstances are above\nit, they are by this very usage obliged to put off the Blackwell-hall\nfactor, or the packer, or the clothier, or whoever they deal with, in\nproportion; and thus promises go round for payment, and those promises\nare kept or broken as money comes in, or as disappointments happen; and\nall this while there is no breach of honesty, or parole; no lying, or\nsupposition of it, among the tradesmen, either on one side or other.\nBut let us come, I say, to the morality of it. To break a solemn promise\nis a kind of prevarication; that is certain, there is no coming off of\nit; and I might enlarge here upon the first fault, namely, of making the\npromise, which, say the strict objectors, they should not do. But the\ntradesman's answer is this: all those promises ought to be taken as they\nare made--namely, with a contingent dependence upon the circumstances of\ntrade, such as promises made them by others who owe them money, or the\nsupposition of a week's trade bringing in money by retail, as usual,\nboth of which are liable to fail, or at least to fall short; and this\nthe person who calls for the money knows, and takes the promise with\nthose attending casualties; which if they fail, he knows the shopkeeper,\nor whoever he is, must fail him too.\nThe case is plain, if the man had the money in cash, he need not make a\npromise or appointment for a farther day; for that promise is no more or\nless than a capitulation for a favour, a desire or condition of a week's\nforbearance, on his assurance, that if possible he will not fail to pay\nhim at the time. It is objected, that the words _if possible_ should\nthen be mentioned, which would solve the morality of the case: to this\nI must answer, that I own I think it needless, unless the man to whom\nthe promise was made could be supposed to believe the promise was to be\nperformed, whether it were possible or no; which no reasonable man can\nbe supposed to do.\nThere is a parallel case to this in the ordinary appointment of people\nto meet either at place or time, upon occasions of business. Two friends\nmake an appointment to meet the next day at such a house, suppose a\ntavern at or near the Exchange: one says to the other, 'Do not fail me\nat that time, for I will certainly be there;' the other answers, 'I will\nnot fail.' Some people, who think themselves more religious than others,\nor at least would be thought so, object against these positive\nappointments, and tell us we ought to say, 'I will, if it pleases God.'\nor I will, life and health permitting;[27] and they quote the text for\nit, where our Saviour expressly commands to use such a caution, and\nwhich I shall say nothing to lessen the force of.\nBut to say a word to our present custom. Since Christianity is the\npublic profession of the country, and we are to suppose we not only are\nChristians ourselves, but that all those we are talking to, or of, are\nalso Christians, we must add that Christianity supposes we acknowledge\nthat life, and all the contingencies of life, are subjected to the\ndominion of Providence, and liable to all those accidents which God\npermits to befall us in the ordinary course of our living in the world,\ntherefore we expect to be taken in that sense in all such appointments;\nand it is but justice to us as Christians, in the common acceptation of\nour words, that when I say, _I will certainly_ meet my friend at such a\nplace, and at such a time, he should understand me to mean, if it\npleases God to give me life and health, or that his Providence permits\nme to come, or, as the text says, 'If the Lord will;' for we all know\nthat unless the Lord will, I cannot meet, or so much as live.\nNot to understand me thus, is as much as to say, you do not understand\nme to be a Christian, or to act like a Christian in any thing; and on\nthe other hand, they that understand it otherwise, I ought not to\nunderstand them to be Christians. Nor should I be supposed to put any\nneglect or dishonour upon the government of Providence in the world, or\nto suggest that I did not think myself subjected to it, because I\nomitted the words in my appointment.\nIn like manner, when a man comes to me for money, I put him off: that,\nin the first place, supposes I have not the money by me, or cannot spare\nit to pay him at that time; if it were otherwise, it may be supposed I\nwould pay him just then. He is then perhaps impatient, and asks me when\nI will pay him, and I tell him at such a time. This naturally supposes,\nthat by that time I expect to be supplied, so as to be able to pay; I\nhave current bills, or promises of money, to be paid me, or I expect the\nordinary takings in my shop or warehouse will supply me to make good my\npromise: thus my promise is honest in its foundation, because I have\nreason to expect money to come in to make me in a condition to perform\nit; but so it falls out, contrary to my expectation, and contrary to the\nreason of things, I am disappointed, and cannot do it; I am then,\nindeed, a trespasser upon my creditor, whom I ought to have paid, and I\nam under affliction enough on that account, and I suffer in my\nreputation for it also; but I cannot be said to be a liar, an immoral\nman, a man that has no regard to my promise, and the like; for at the\nsame time I have perhaps used my utmost endeavour to do it, but am\nprevented by many several men breaking promise with me, and I am no way\nable to help myself.\nIt is objected to this, that then I should not make my promises\nabsolute, but conditional. To this I say, that the promises, as is above\nobserved, are really not absolute, but conditional in the very nature of\nthem, and are understood so when they are made, or else they that hear\nthem do not understand them, as all human appointments ought to be\nunderstood; I do confess, it would be better not to make an absolute\npromise at all, but to express the condition or reserve with the\npromise, and say, 'I will if I can,' or, 'I will if people are just to\nme, and perform their promises to me.'\nBut to this I answer, the importunity of the person who demands the\npayment will not permit it--nothing short of a positive promise will\nsatisfy--they never believe the person intends to perform if he makes\nthe least reserve or condition in his promise, though, at the same time,\nthey know that even the nature of the promise and the reason of the\npromise strongly implies the condition--I say, the importunity of the\ncreditor occasions the breach, which he reproaches the debtor with the\nimmorality of.[28]\nCustom, indeed, has driven us beyond the limits of our morals in many\nthings, which trade makes necessary, and which we cannot now avoid; so\nthat if we must pretend to go back to the literal sense of the command;\nif our yea must be yea, and our nay nay; if no man must go beyond, or\ndefraud his neighbour; if our conversation must be without covetousness,\nand the like--why, then, it is impossible for tradesmen to be\nChristians, and we must unhinge all business, act upon new principles in\ntrade, and go on by new rules--in short, we must shut up shop, and leave\noff trade, and so in many things we must leave off living; for as\nconversation is called life, we must leave off to converse: all the\nordinary communication of life is now full of lying; and what with\ntable-lies, salutation-lies, and trading-lies, there is no such thing as\nevery man speaking truth with his neighbour.\nBut this is a subject would launch me out beyond the bounds of a\nchapter, and make a book by itself. I return to the case particularly in\nhand--promises of payment of money. Men in trade, I say, are under this\nunhappy necessity, they are forced to make them, and they are forced to\nbreak them; the violent pressing and dunning, and perhaps threatening\ntoo, of the creditor, when the poor shopkeeper cannot comply with his\ndemand, forces him to promise; in short, the importunate creditor will\nnot be otherwise put off, and the poor shopkeeper, almost worried, and\nperhaps a little terrified too, and afraid of him, is glad to do and say\nany thing to pacify him, and this extorts a promise, which, when the\ntime comes, he is no more able to perform than he was before, and this\nmultiplies promises, and consequently breaches, so much of which are to\nbe placed to the accounts of force, that I must acknowledge, though the\ndebtor is to blame, the creditor is too far concerned in the crime of it\nto be excused, and it were to be wished some other method could be found\nout to prevent the evil, and that tradesmen would resolve with more\ncourage to resist the importunities of the creditor, be the consequence\nwhat it would, rather than break in upon their morals, and load their\nconsciences with the reproaches of it for all their lives after.\nI remember I knew a tradesman, who, labouring long under the ordinary\ndifficulties of men embarrassed in trade, and past the possibility of\ngetting out, and being at last obliged to stop and call his people\ntogether, told me, that after he was broke, though it was a terrible\nthing to him at first too, as it is to most tradesmen, yet he thought\nhimself in a new world, when he was at a full stop, and had no more the\nterror upon him of bills coming for payment, and creditors knocking at\nhis door to dun him, and he without money to pay. He was no more obliged\nto stand in his shop, and be bullied and ruffled by his creditors, nay,\nby their apprentices and boys, and sometimes by porters and footmen, to\nwhom he was forced to give good words, and sometimes strain his\npatience to the utmost limits: he was now no more obliged to make\npromises, which he knew he could not perform, and break promises as fast\nas he made them, and so lie continually both to God and man; and, he\nadded, the ease of his mind which he felt upon that occasion was so\ngreat, that it balanced all the grief he was in at the general disaster\nof his affairs; and, farther, that even in the lowest of his\ncircumstances which followed, he would not go back to live as he had\ndone, in the exquisite torture of want of money to pay his bills and his\nduns.\nNor was it any satisfaction to him to say, that it was owing to the like\nbreach of promise in the shopkeepers, and gentlemen, and people whom he\ndealt with, who owed him money, and who made no conscience of promising\nand disappointing him, and thereby drove him to the necessity of\nbreaking his own promises; for this did not satisfy his mind in the\nbreaches of his word, though they really drove him to the necessity of\nit: but that which lay heaviest upon him was the violence and clamour of\ncreditors, who would not be satisfied without such promises, even when\nhe knew, or at least believed, he should not be able to perform.\nNay, such was the importunity of one of his merchants, that when he came\nfor money, and he was obliged to put him off, and to set him another\nday, the merchant would not be satisfied, unless he would swear that he\nwould pay him on that day without fail. 'And what said you to him?' said\nI. 'Say to him!' said he, 'I looked him full in the face, and sat me\ndown without speaking a word, being filled with rage and indignation at\nhim; but after a little while he insisted again, and asked me what\nanswer I would make him, at which I smiled, and asked him, if he were in\nearnest? He grew angry then, and asked me if I laughed at him, and if I\nthought to laugh him out of his money? I then asked him, if he really\ndid expect I should swear that I would pay him the next week, as I\nproposed to promise? He told me, yes, he did, and I should swear it, or\npay him before he went out of my warehouse.\nI wondered, indeed, at the discourse, and at the folly of the merchant,\nwho, I understood afterwards, was a foreigner; and though I thought he\nhad been in jest at first, when he assured me he was not, I was curious\nto hear the issue, which at first he was loth to go on with, because he\nknew it would bring about all the rest; but I pressed him to know--so he\ntold me that the merchant carried it to such a height as put him into a\nfurious passion, and, knowing he must break some time or other, he was\nresolved to put an end to his being insulted in that manner; so at last\nhe rose up in a rage, told the merchant, that as no honest man could\ntake such an oath, unless he had the money by him to pay it, so no\nhonest man could ask such a thing of him; and that, since he must have\nan answer, his answer was, he would not swear such an oath for him, nor\nany man living, and if he would not be satisfied without it, he might do\nhis worst--and so turned from him; and knowing the man was a\nconsiderable creditor, and might do him a mischief, he resolved to shut\nup that very night, and did so, carrying all his valuable goods with him\ninto the Mint, and the next day he heard that his angry creditor waylaid\nhim the same afternoon to arrest him, but he was too quick for him; and,\nas he said, though it almost broke his heart to shut up his shop, yet\nthat being delivered from the insulting temper of his creditor, and the\nperpetual perplexities of want of money to pay people when they dunned\nhim, and, above all, from the necessity of making solemn promises for\ntrifling sums, and then breaking them again, was to him like a load\ntaken off his back when he was weary, and could stand under it no\nlonger; it was a terror to him, he said, to be continually lying,\nbreaking faith with all mankind, and making promises which he could not\nperform.\nThis necessarily brings me to observe here, and it is a little for the\nease of the tradesman's mind in such severe cases, that there is a\ndistinction to be made in this case between wilful premeditated lying,\nand the necessity men may be driven to by their disappointments, and\nother accidents of their circumstances, to break such promises, as they\nhad made with an honest intention of performing them.\nHe that breaks a promise, however solemnly made, may be an honest man,\nbut he that makes a promise with a design to break it, or with no\nresolution of performing it, cannot be so: nay, to carry it farther, he\nthat makes a promise, and does not do his endeavour to perform it, or to\nput himself into a condition to perform it, cannot be an honest man. A\npromise once made supposes the person willing to perform it, if it were\nin his power, and has a binding influence upon the person who made it,\nso far as his power extends, or that he can within the reach of any\nreasonable ability perform the conditions; but if it is not in his power\nto perform it, as in this affair of payment of money is often the case,\nthe man cannot be condemned as dishonest, unless it can be made appear,\neither\n1. That when he made the promise, he knew he should not be able to\nperform it; or,\n2. That he resolved when he made the promise not to perform it, though\nhe should be in a condition to do it. And in both these cases the\nmorality of promising cannot be justified, any more than the immorality\nof not performing it.\nBut, on the other hand, the person promising, honestly intending when he\nmade the appointment to perform it if possible, and endeavouring\nfaithfully to be able, but being rendered unable by the disappointment\nof those on whose promises he depended for the performance of his own; I\ncannot say that such a tradesman can be charged with lying, or with any\nimmorality in promising, for the breach was not properly his own, but\nthe people's on whom he depended; and this is justified from what I said\nbefore, namely, that every promise of that kind supposes the possibility\nof such a disappointment, even in the very nature of its making; for, if\nthe man were not under a moral incapacity of payment, he would not\npromise at all, but pay at the time he promised. His promising, then,\nimplies that he has only something future to depend upon, to capacitate\nhim for the payment; that is to say, the appointments of payment by\nother tradesmen, who owe him (that promises) the money, or the daily\nsupply from the ordinary course of his trade, suppose him a retailer in\na shop, and the like; all which circumstances are subject to\ncontingencies and disappointments, and are known to be so by the person\nto whom the promise is made; and it is with all those contingencies and\npossibilities of disappointment, that he takes or accepts the\ntradesman's promise, and forbears him, in hopes that he will be able to\nperform, knowing, that unless he receives money as above, he cannot.\nI must, however, acknowledge, that it is a very mortifying thing to a\ntradesman, whether we suppose him to be one that values his credit in\ntrade, or his principle as to honest dealing, to be obliged to break his\nword; and therefore, where men are not too much under the hatches to the\ncreditor, and they can possibly avoid it, a tradesman should not make\nhis promises of payment so positive, but rather conditional, and thereby\navoid both the immorality and the discredit of breaking his word; nor\nwill any tradesman, I hope, harden himself in a careless forwardness to\npromise, without endeavouring or intending to perform, from any thing\nsaid in this chapter; for be the excuse for it as good as it will, as to\nthe point of strict honesty, he can have but small regard to his own\npeace of mind, or to his own credit in trade, who will not avoid it as\nmuch as possible.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[26] [The practice of haggling about prices is now very properly\nabandoned by all respectable dealers in goods, greatly to the comfort of\nboth sellers and buyers.]\n[27] [It was a fashion of trade in Defoe's time, and down to a somewhat\nlater period, to thrust the phrase 'God willing' into almost every\npromise or announcement, the purport of which might possibly be thwarted\nby death or any other accident. The phrase, in particular, appeared at\nthe beginning of all letters in which a merchant announced his design of\nvisiting retail dealers in the provinces; as, 'God willing, I shall have\nthe honour of waiting on you on the 15th proximo:' hence English\n_riders_, or commercial travellers, came to be known in Scotland by the\nnickname of God-willings.' This pious phraseology seems now to be\nbanished from all mercantile affairs, except the shipping of goods.]\n[28] [Notwithstanding all this ingenious reasoning, we cannot help\nthinking that it would be better if conditional promises were made in\nconditional language. It is not necessarily to be understood in all\ncases that a direct unreserved promise means something conditional, so\nthat there is a liability to being much deceived and grievously\ndisappointed by all such promises. A sound morality certainly demands\nthat the tradesman should use the practices described in the text as\nrarely, and with as much reluctance, as possible, and that, like other\nmen, he should make his words, as nearly as may be, the echo of his\nthoughts.]\nCHAPTER XVIII\nOF THE CUSTOMARY FRAUDS OF TRADE, WHICH HONEST MEN ALLOW THEMSELVES TO\nPRACTISE, AND PRETEND TO JUSTIFY\nAs there are trading lies which honest men tell, so there are frauds in\ntrade, which tradesmen daily practise, and which, notwithstanding, they\nthink are consistent with their being honest men.\nIt is certainly true, that few things in nature are simply unlawful and\ndishonest, but that all crime is made so by the addition and concurrence\nof circumstances; and of these I am now to speak: and the first I take\nnotice of, is that of taking and repassing, or putting off, counterfeit\nor false money.\nIt must be confessed, that calling in the old money in the time of the\nlate King William was an act particularly glorious to that reign, and in\nnothing more than this, that it delivered trade from a terrible load,\nand tradesmen from a vast accumulated weight of daily crime. There was\nscarce a shopkeeper that had not a considerable quantity or bag full of\nfalse and unpassable money; not an apprentice that kept his master's\ncash, but had an annual loss, which they sometimes were unable to\nsupport, and sometimes their parents and friends were called upon for\nthe deficiency.\nThe consequence was, that every raw youth or unskilful body, that was\nsent to receive money, was put upon by the cunning tradesmen, and all\nthe bad money they had was tendered in payment among the good, that by\nignorance or oversight some might possibly be made to pass; and as these\ntook it, so they were not wanting again in all the artifice and sleight\nof hand they were masters of, to put it off again; so that, in short,\npeople were made bites and cheats to one another in all their business;\nand if you went but to buy a pair of gloves, or stockings, or any\ntrifle, at a shop, you went with bad money in one hand, and good money\nin the other, proffering first the bad coin, to get it off, if possible,\nand then the good, to make up the deficiency, if the other was rejected.\nThus, people were daily upon the catch to cheat and surprise one\nanother, if they could; and, in short, paid no good money for anything,\nif they could help it. And how did we triumph, if meeting with some poor\nraw servant, or ignorant woman, behind a counter, we got off a\ncounterfeit half-crown, or a brass shilling, and brought away their\ngoods (which were worth the said half-crown or shilling, if it had been\ngood) for a half-crown that was perhaps not worth sixpence, or for a\nshilling not worth a penny: as if this were not all one with picking the\nshopkeeper's pocket, or robbing his house!\nThe excuse ordinarily given for this practice was this--namely, that it\ncame to us for good; we took it, and it only went as it came; we did not\nmake it, and the like; as if, because we had been basely cheated by A,\nwe were to be allowed to cheat B; or that because C had robbed our\nhouse, that therefore we might go and rob D.\nAnd yet this was constantly practised at that time over the whole\nnation, and by some of the honestest tradesmen among us, if not by all\nof them.\nWhen the old money was, as I have said, called in, this cheating trade\nwas put to an end, and the morals of the nation in some measure\nrestored--for, in short, before that, it was almost impossible for a\ntradesman to be an honest man; but now we begin to fall into it again,\nand we see the current coin of the kingdom strangely crowded with\ncounterfeit money again, both gold and silver; and especially we have\nfound a great deal of counterfeit foreign money, as particularly\nPortugal and Spanish gold, such as moydores and Spanish pistoles, which,\nwhen we have the misfortune to be put upon with them, the fraud runs\nhigh, and dips deep into our pockets, the first being twenty-seven\nshillings, and the latter seventeen shillings. It is true, the latter\nbeing payable only by weight, we are not often troubled with them; but\nthe former going all by tale, great quantities of them have been put off\namong us. I find, also, there is a great increase of late of counterfeit\nmoney of our own coin, especially of shillings, and the quantity\nincreasing, so that, in a few years more, if the wicked artists are not\ndetected, the grievance may be in proportion as great as it was\nformerly, and perhaps harder to be redressed, because the coin is not\nlikely to be any more called in, as the old smooth money was.\nWhat, then, must be done? And how must we prevent the mischief to\nconscience and principle which lay so heavy upon the whole nation\nbefore? The question is short, and the answer would be as short, and to\nthe purpose, if people would but submit to the little loss that would\nfall upon them at first, by which they would lessen the weight of it as\nthey go on, as it would never increase to such a formidable height as it\nwas at before, nor would it fall so much upon the poor as it did then.\nFirst, I must lay it down as a stated rule or maxim, in the moral part\nof the question--that to put off counterfeit base money for good money,\nknowing it to be counterfeit, is dishonest and knavish.\nNor will it take off from the crime of it, or lessen the dishonesty, to\nsay, 'I took it for good and current money, and it goes as it comes;'\nfor, as before, my having been cheated does not authorise me to cheat\nany other person, so neither was it a just or honest thing in that\nperson who put the bad money upon me, if they knew it to be bad; and if\nit were not honest in them, how can it be so in me? If, then, it came by\nknavery, it should not go by knavery--that would be, indeed, to say, it\ngoes as it comes, in a literal sense; that is to say, it came by\ninjustice, and I shall make it go so: but that will not do in matters of\nright and wrong.\nThe laws of our country, also, are directly against the practice; the\nlaw condemns the coin as illegal--that is to say, it is not current\nmoney, or, as the lawyers style it, it is not lawful money of England.\nNow, every bargain or agreement in trade, is in the common and just\nacceptation, and the language of trade, made for such a price or rate,\nin the current money of England; and though you may not express it in\nwords at length, it is so understood, as much as if it were set down in\nwriting. If I cheapen any thing at a shop, suppose it the least toy or\ntrifle, I ask them, 'What must you have for it?' The shopkeeper\nanswers--so much; suppose it were a shilling, what is the English but\nthis--one shilling of lawful money of England? And I agree to give that\nshilling; but instead of it give them a counterfeit piece of lead or\ntin, washed over, to make it look like a shilling. Do I pay them what I\nbargained for? Do I give them one shilling of lawful money of England?\nDo I not put a cheat upon them, and act against justice and mutual\nagreement?\nTo say I took this for the lawful money of England, will not add at all,\nexcept it be to the fraud; for my being deceived does not at all make it\nbe lawful money: so that, in a word, there can be nothing in that part\nbut increasing the criminal part, and adding one knave more to the\nnumber of knaves which the nation was encumbered with before.\nThe case to me is very clear, namely, that neither by law, justice, nor\nconscience, can the tradesman put off his bad money after he has taken\nit, if he once knows it to be false and counterfeit money. That it is\nagainst the law is evident, because it is not good and lawful money of\nEngland; it cannot be honest, because you do not pay in the coin you\nagreed for, or perform the bargain you made, or pay in the coin expected\nof you; and it is not just, because you do not give a valuable\nconsideration for the goods you buy, but really take a tradesman's goods\naway, and return dross and dirt to him in the room of it.\nThe medium I have to propose in the room of this, is, that every man who\ntakes a counterfeit piece of money, and knows it to be such, should\nimmediately destroy it--that is to say, destroy it as money, cut it in\npieces; or, as I have seen some honest tradesmen do, nail it up against\na post, so that it should go no farther. It is true, this is sinking so\nmuch upon himself, and supporting the credit of the current coin at his\nown expense, and he loses the whole piece, and this tradesmen are loth\nto do: but my answer is very clear, that thus they ought to do, and that\nsundry public reasons, and several public benefits, would follow to the\npublic, in some of which he might have his share of benefit hereafter,\nand if he had not, yet he ought to do it.\nFirst, by doing thus, he puts a stop to the fraud--that piece of money\nis no more made the instrument to deceive others, which otherwise it\nmight do; and though it is true that the loss is only to the last man,\nthat is to say, in the ordinary currency of the money, yet the breach\nupon conscience and principle is to every owner through whose hands that\npiece of money has fraudulently passed, that is to say, who have passed\nit away for good, knowing it to be counterfeit; so that it is a piece of\ngood service to the public to take away the occasion and instrument of\nso much knavery and deceit.\nSecondly, he prevents a worse fraud, which is, the buying and selling\nsuch counterfeit money. This was a very wicked, but open trade, in\nformer days, and may in time come to be so again: fellows went about the\nstreets, crying '_Brass money, broken or whole;'_ that is to say, they\nwould give good money for bad. It was at first pretended that they were\nobliged to cut it in pieces, and if you insisted upon it, they would cut\nit in pieces before your face; but they as often got it without that\nceremony, and so made what wicked shifts they could to get it off again,\nand many times did put it off for current money, after they had bought\nit for a trifle.\nThirdly, by this fraud, perhaps, the same piece of money might, several\nyears after, come into your hands again, after you had sold it for a\ntrifle, and so you might lose by the same shilling two or three times\nover, and the like of other people; but if men were obliged to demolish\nall the counterfeit money they take, and let it go no farther, they they\nwould be sure the fraud could go no farther, nor would the quantity be\never great at a time; for whatever quantity the false coiners should at\nany time make, it would gradually lessen and sink away, and not a mass\nof false and counterfeit coin appear together, as was formerly the case,\nand which lost the nation a vast sum of money to call in.\nIt has been the opinion of some, that a penalty should be inflicted upon\nthose who offered any counterfeit money in payment; but besides that,\nthere is already a statute against uttering false money, knowing it to\nbe such. If any other or farther law should be made, either to enforce\nthe statute, or to have new penalties added, they would still fall into\nthe same difficulties as in the act.\n1. That innocent men would suffer, seeing many tradesmen may take a\npiece of counterfeit money in tale with other money, and really and\n_bona fide_ not know it, and so may offer it again as innocently as they\nat first took it ignorantly; and to bring such into trouble for every\nfalse shilling which they might offer to pay away without knowing it,\nwould be to make the law be merely vexatious and tormenting to those\nagainst whom it was not intended, and at the same time not to meddle\nwith the subtle crafty offender whom it was intended to punish, and who\nis really guilty.\n2. Such an act would be difficultly executed, because it would still be\ndifficult to know who did knowingly utter false money, and who did not;\nwhich is the difficulty, indeed, in the present law--so that, upon the\nwhole, such a law would no way answer the end, nor effectually discover\nthe offender, much less suppress the practice. But I am not upon\nprojects and schemes--it is not the business of this undertaking.\nBut a general act, obliging all tradesmen to suppress counterfeit money,\nby refusing to put it off again, after they knew it to be counterfeit,\nand a general consent of tradesmen to do so; this would be the best way\nto put a stop to the practice, the morality of which is so justly called\nin question, and the ill consequences of which to trade are so very well\nknown; nor will any thing but a universal consent of tradesmen, in the\nhonest suppressing of counterfeit money, ever bring it to pass. In the\nmeantime, as to the dishonesty of the practice, however popular it is\ngrown at this time, I think it is out of question; it can have nothing\nbut custom to plead for it, which is so far from an argument, that I\nthink the plea is criminal in itself, and really adds to its being a\ngrievance, and calls loudly for a speedy redress.\nAnother trading fraud, which, among many others of the like nature, I\nthink worth speaking of, is the various arts made use of by tradesmen to\nset off their goods to the eye of the ignorant buyer.\nI bring this in here, because I really think it is something of kin to\nputting off counterfeit money; every false gloss put upon our woollen\nmanufactures, by hot-pressing, folding, dressing, tucking, packing,\nbleaching, &c, what are they but washing over a brass shilling to make\nit pass for sterling? Every false light, every artificial side-window,\nsky-light, and trunk-light we see made to show the fine Hollands, lawns,\ncambrics, &c. to advantage, and to deceive the buyer--what is it but a\ncounterfeit coin to cheat the tradesman's customers?--an _ignis fatuus_\nto impose upon fools and ignorant people, and make their goods look\nfiner than they are?\nBut where in trade is there any business entirely free from these\nfrauds? and how shall we speak of them, when we see them so universally\nmade use of? Either they are honest, or they are not. If they are not,\nwhy do we, I say, universally make use of them?--if they are honest, why\nso much art and so much application to manage them, and to make goods\nappear fairer and finer to the eye than they really are?--which, in its\nown nature, is evidently a design to cheat, and that in itself is\ncriminal, and can be no other.\nAnd yet there is much to be said for setting goods out to the best\nadvantage too; for in some goods, if they are not well dressed, well\npressed, and packed, the goods are not really shown in a true light;\nmany of our woollen manufactures, if brought to market rough and\nundressed, like a piece of cloth not carried to the fulling or thicking\nmill, it does not show itself to a just advantage, nay, it does not show\nwhat it really is; and therefore such works as may be proper for so far\nsetting it forth to the eye may be necessary. For example:\nThe cloths, stuffs, serges, druggets, &c, which are brought to market in\nthe west and northern parts of England, and in Norfolk, as they are\nbought without the dressing and making up, it may be said of them that\nthey are brought to market unfinished, and they are bought there again\nby the wholesale dealers, or cloth-workers, tuckers, and merchants, and\nthey carry them to their warehouses and workhouses, and there they go\nthrough divers operations again, and are finished for the market; nor,\nindeed, are they fit to be shown till they are so; the stuffs are in the\ngrease, the cloth is in the oil, they are rough and foul, and are not\ndressed, and consequently not finished; and as our buyers do not\nunderstand them till they are so dressed, it is no proper finishing the\ngoods to bring them to market before--they are not, indeed, properly\nsaid to be made till that part is done.\nTherefore I cannot call all those setting-out of goods to be knavish and\nfalse; but when the goods, like a false shilling, are to be set out with\nfraud and false colours, and made smooth and shining to delude the eye,\nthere, where they are so, it is really a fraud; and though in some cases\nit extremely differs, yet that does not excuse the rest by any means.\nThe packers and hot-pressers, tuckers, and cloth-workers, are very\nnecessary people in their trades, and their business is to set goods off\nto the best advantage; but it may be said, too, that their true and\nproper business is to make the goods show what really they are, and\nnothing else. It is true, as above, that in the original dress, as a\npiece of cloth or drugget, or stuff, comes out of the hand of the maker,\nit does not show itself as it really is, nor what it should and ought to\nshow: thus far these people are properly called finishers of the\nmanufactures, and their work is not lawful only, but it is a doing\njustice to the manufacture.\nBut if, by the exuberances of their art, they set the goods in a false\nlight, give them a false gloss, a finer and smoother surface than really\nthey have: this is like a painted jade, who puts on a false colour upon\nher tawny skin to deceive and delude her customers, and make her seem\nthe beauty which she has no just claim to the name of.\nSo far as art is thus used to show these goods to be what they really\nare not, and deceive the buyer, so far it is a trading fraud, which is\nan unjustifiable practice in business, and which, like coining of\ncounterfeit money, is making goods to pass for what they really are not;\nand is done for the advantage of the person who puts them off, and to\nthe loss of the buyer, who is cheated and deceived by the fraud.\nThe making false lights, sky-lights, trunks, and other contrivances, to\nmake goods look to be what they are not, and to deceive the eye of the\nbuyer, these are all so many brass shillings washed over, in order to\ndeceive the person who is to take them, and cheat him of his money; and\nso far these false lights are really criminal, they are cheats in trade,\nand made to deceive the world; to make deformity look like beauty, and\nto varnish over deficiencies; to make goods which are ordinary in\nthemselves appear fine; to make things which are ill made look well; in\na word, they are cheats in themselves, but being legitimated by custom,\nare become a general practice; the honestest tradesmen have them, and\nmake use of them; the buyer knows of it, and suffers himself to be so\nimposed upon; and, in a word, if it be a cheat, as no doubt it is, they\ntell us that yet it is a universal cheat, and nobody trades without it;\nso custom and usage make it lawful, and there is little to be said but\nthis, _Si populus vult decepi, decipiatur_--if the people will be\ncheated, let them be cheated, or they shall be cheated.\nI come next to the setting out their goods to the buyer by the help of\ntheir tongue; and here I must confess our _shop rhetoric_ is a strange\nkind of speech; it is to be understood in a manner by itself; it is to\nbe taken, not in a latitude only, but in such a latitude as indeed\nrequires as many flourishes to excuse it, as it contains flourishes in\nitself.\nThe end of it, indeed, is corrupt, and it is also made up of a corrupt\ncomposition; it is composed of a mass of rattling flattery to the buyer,\nand that filled with hypocrisy, compliment, self-praises, falsehood,\nand, in short, a complication of wickedness; it is a corrupt means to a\nvicious end: and I cannot see any thing in it but what a wise man laughs\nat, a good man abhors, and any man of honesty avoids as much as\npossible.\nThe shopkeeper ought, indeed, to have a good tongue, but he should not\nmake a common prostitute of his tongue, and employ it to the wicked\npurpose of abusing and imposing upon all that come to deal with him.\nThere is a modest liberty, which trading licence, like the poetic\nlicence, allows to all the tradesmen of every kind: but tradesmen ought\nno more to lie behind the counter, than the parsons ought to talk\ntreason in the pulpit.\nLet them confine themselves to truth, and say what they will. But it\ncannot be done; a talking rattling mercer, or draper, or milliner,\nbehind his counter, would be worth nothing if he should confine himself\nto that mean silly thing called _truth_--they must lie; it is in support\nof their business, and some think they cannot live without it; but I\ndeny that part, and recommend it, I mean to the tradesmen I am speaking\nof, to consider what a scandal it is upon trade, to pretend to say that\na tradesman cannot live without lying, the contrary to which may be made\nappear in almost every article.\nOn the other hand, I must do justice to the tradesmen, and must say,\nthat much of it is owing to the buyers--they begin the work, and give\nthe occasion. It was the saying of a very good shopman once upon this\noccasion, 'That their customers would not be pleased without lying; and\nwhy,' said he, 'did Solomon reprove the buyer?--he said nothing to the\nshopkeeper--\"It is naught, it is naught,\" says the buyer; \"but when he\ngoes away, then he boasteth\" (Prov. xx. 14.) The buyer telling us,' adds\nhe, 'that every thing is worse than it is, forces us, in justifying its\ntrue value, to tell them it is better than it is.'\nIt must be confessed, this verbose way of trading is most ridiculous, as\nwell as offensive, both in buyer and seller; and as it adds nothing to\nthe goodness or value of the goods, so, I am sure, it adds nothing to\nthe honesty or good morals of the tradesman, on one side or other, but\nmultiplies trading-lies on every side, and brings a just reproach on the\nintegrity of the dealer, whether he be the buyer or seller.\nIt was a kind of a step to the cure of this vice in trade, for such it\nis, that there was an old office erected in the city of London, for\nsearching and viewing all the goods which were sold in bulk, and could\nnot be searched into by the buyer--this was called _garbling_; and the\ngarbler having viewed the goods, and caused all damaged or unsound goods\nto be taken out, set his seal upon the case or bags which held the rest,\nand then they were vouched to be marketable, so that when the merchant\nand the shopkeeper met to deal, there was no room for any words about\nthe goodness of the wares; there was the garbler's seal to vouch that\nthey were marketable and good, and if they were otherwise, the garbler\nwas answerable.\nThis respected some particular sorts of goods only, and chiefly spices\nand drugs, and dye-stuffs, and the like. It were well if some other\nmethod than that of a rattling tongue could be found out, to ascertain\nthe goodness and value of goods between the shopkeeper and the retail\nbuyer, that such a flux of falsehoods and untruths might be avoided, as\nwe see every day made use of to run up and run down every thing that is\nbought or sold, and that without any effect too; for, take it one time\nwith another, all the shopkeeper's lying does not make the buyer like\nthe goods at all the better, nor does the buyer's lying make the\nshopkeeper sell the cheaper.\nIt would be worth while to consider a little the language that passes\nbetween the tradesman and his customer over the counter, and put it\ninto plain homespun English, as the meaning of it really imports. We\nwould not take that usage if it were put into plain words--it would set\nall the shopkeepers and their customers together by the ears, and we\nshould have fighting and quarrelling, instead of bowing and curtseying,\nin every shop. Let us hark a little, and hear how it would sound between\nthem. A lady comes into a mercer's shop to buy some silks, or to the\nlaceman's to buy silver laces, or the like; and when she pitches upon a\npiece which she likes, she begins thus:\n_Lady_.--I like that colour and that figure well enough, but I don't\nlike the silk--there is no substance in it.\n_Mer._--Indeed, Madam, your ladyship lies--it is a very substantial\nsilk.\n_Lady_.-No, no! you lie indeed, Sir; it is good for nothing; it will do\nno service.\n_Mer._--Pray, Madam, feel how heavy it is; you will find it is a lie;\nthe very weight of it may satisfy you that you lie, indeed, Madam.\n_Lady_.--Come, come, show me a better piece; I am sure you have better.\n_Mer._--Indeed, Madam, your ladyship lies; I may show you more pieces,\nbut I cannot show you a better; there is not a better piece of silk of\nthat sort in London, Madam.\n_Lady_.--Let me see that piece of crimson there.\n_Mer._--Here it is, Madam.\n_Lady_.--No, that won't do neither; it is not a good colour.\n_Mer_.--Indeed, Madam, you lie; it is as fine a colour as can be dyed.\n_Lady_.--Oh fy! you lie, indeed, Sir; why, it is not in grain.\n_Mer_.--Your ladyship lies, upon my word, Madam; it is in grain, indeed,\nand as fine as can be dyed.\nI might make this dialogue much longer, but here is enough to set the\nmercer and the lady both in a flame, and to set the shop in an uproar,\nif it were but spoken out in plain language, as above; and yet what is\nall the shop-dialect less or more than this? The meaning is plain--it is\nnothing but _you lie_, and _you lie_--downright Billingsgate, wrapped\nup in silk and satin, and delivered dressed finely up in better clothes\nthan perhaps it might come dressed in between a carman and a porter.\nHow ridiculous is all the tongue-padding flutter between Miss Tawdry,\nthe sempstress, and Tattle, my lady's woman, at the change-shop, when\nthe latter comes to buy any trifle! and how many lies, indeed, creep\ninto every part of trade, especially of retail trade, from the meanest\nto the uppermost part of business!--till, in short, it is grown so\nscandalous, that I much wonder the shopkeepers themselves do not leave\nit off, for the mere shame of its simplicity and uselessness.\nBut habits once got into use are very rarely abated, however ridiculous\nthey are; and the age is come to such a degree of obstinate folly, that\nnothing is too ridiculous for them, if they please but to make a custom\nof it.\nI am not for making my discourse a satire upon the shopkeepers, or upon\ntheir customers: if I were, I could give a long detail of the arts and\ntricks made use of behind the counter to wheedle and persuade the buyer,\nand manage the selling part among shopkeepers, and how easily and\ndexterously they draw in their customers; but this is rather work for a\nballad and a song: my business is to tell the complete tradesman how to\nact a wiser part, to talk to his customers like a man of sense and\nbusiness, and not like a mountebank and his merry-andrew; to let him see\nthat there is a way of managing behind a counter, that, let the customer\nbe what or how it will, man or woman, impertinent or not\nimpertinent--for sometimes, I must say, the men customers are every jot\nas impertinent as the women; but, I say, let them be what they will, and\nhow they will, let them make as many words as they will, and urge the\nshopkeeper how they will, he may behave himself so as to avoid all those\nimpertinences, falsehoods, follish and wicked excursions which I\ncomplain of, if he pleases.\nIt by no means follows, that because the buyer is foolish, the seller\nmust be so too; that because the buyer has a never-ceasing tongue, the\nseller must rattle as fast as she; that because she tells a hundred lies\nto run down his goods, he must tell another hundred to run them up; and\nthat because she belies the goods one way, he must do the same the other\nway.\nThere is a happy medium in these things. The shopkeeper, far from being\nrude to his customers on one hand, or sullen and silent on the other,\nmay speak handsomely and modestly, of his goods; what they deserve, and\nno other; may with truth, and good manners too, set forth his goods as\nthey ought to be set forth; and neither be wanting to the commodity he\nsells, nor run out into a ridiculous extravagance of words, which have\nneither truth of fact nor honesty of design in them.\nNor is this middle way of management at all less likely to succeed, if\nthe customers have any share of sense in them, or the goods he shows any\nmerit to recommend them; and I must say, I believe this grave middle way\nof discoursing to a customer, is generally more effectual, and more to\nthe purpose, and more to the reputation of the shopkeeper, than a storm\nof words, and a mouthful of common, shop-language, which makes a noise,\nbut has little in it to plead, except to here and there a fool that can\nno otherwise be prevailed with.\nIt would be a terrible satire upon the ladies, to say that they will not\nbe pleased or engaged either with good wares or good pennyworths, with\nreasonable good language, or good manners, but they must have the\naddition of long harangues, simple, fawning, and flattering language,\nand a flux of false and foolish words, to set off the goods, and wheedle\nthem in to lay out their money; and that without these they are not to\nbe pleased.\nBut let the tradesman try the honest part, and stand by that, keeping a\nstock of fashionable and valuable goods in his shop to show, and I dare\nsay he will run no venture, nor need he fear customers; if any thing\ncalls for the help of noise, and rattling words, it must be mean and\nsorry, unfashionable, and ordinary goods, together with weak and silly\nbuyers; and let the buyers that chance to read this remember, that\nwhenever they find the shopkeeper begins his noise, and makes his fine\nspeeches, they ought to suppose he (the shopkeeper) has trash to bring\nout, and believes he has fools to show it to.\nCHAPTER XIX\nOF FINE SHOPS, AND FINE SHOWS\nIt is a modern custom, and wholly unknown to our ancestors, who yet\nunderstood trade, in proportion to the trade they carried on, as well as\nwe do, to have tradesmen lay out two-thirds of their fortune in fitting\nup their shops.\nBy fitting up, I do not mean furnishing their shops with wares and goods\nto sell--for in that they came up to us in every particular, and perhaps\nwent beyond us too--but in painting and gilding, fine shelves, shutters,\nboxes, glass-doors, sashes, and the like, in which, they tell us now, it\nis a small matter to lay out two or three hundred pounds, nay, five\nhundred pounds, to fit up a pastry-cook's, or a toy-shop.\nThe first inference to be drawn from this must necessarily be, that this\nage must have more fools than the last: for certainly fools only are\nmost taken with shows and outsides.\nIt is true, that a fine show of goods will bring customers; and it is\nnot a new custom, but a very old one, that a new shop, very well\nfurnished, goes a great way to bringing a trade; for the proverb was,\nand still is, very true, that every body has a penny for a new shop; but\nthat a fine show of shelves and glass-windows should bring customers,\nthat was never made a rule in trade till now.\nAnd yet, even now, I should not except so much against it, if it were\nnot carried on to such an excess, as is too much for a middling\ntradesman to bear the expense of. In this, therefore, it is made not a\ngrievance only, but really scandalous to trade; for now, a young\nbeginner has such a tax upon him before he begins, that he must sink\nperhaps a third part, nay, a half part, of his stock, in painting and\ngilding, wainscoting and glazing, before he begins to trade, nay, before\nhe can open his shop. As they say of building a watermill, two-thirds of\nthe expense lies under the water; and when the poor tradesman comes to\nfurnish his shop, and lay in his stock of goods, he finds a great hole\nmade in his cash to the workmen, and his show of goods, on which the\nlife of his trade depends, is fain to be lessened to make up his show of\nboards, and glass to lay them in.\nNor is this heavy article to be abated upon any account; for if he does\nnot make a good show, he comes abroad like a mean ordinary fellow, and\nnobody of fashion comes to his shop; the customers are drawn away by the\npictures and painted shelves, though, when they come there, they are not\nhalf so well filled as in other places, with goods fit for a trade; and\nhow, indeed, should it be otherwise? the joiners and painters, glaziers\nand carvers, must have all ready money; the weavers and merchants may\ngive credit; their goods are of so much less moment to the shopkeeper,\nthat they must trust; but the more important show must be finished\nfirst, and paid first; and when that has made a deep hole in the\ntradesman's stock, then the remainder may be spared to furnish the shop\nwith goods, and the merchant must trust for the rest.\nIt will hardly be believed in ages to come, when our posterity shall be\ngrown wiser by our loss, and, as I may truly say, at our expense, that a\npastry-cook's shop, which twenty pounds would effectually furnish at a\ntime, with all needful things for sale, nay, except on an extraordinary\nshow, as on twelfth-day at night for cakes, or upon some great feast,\ntwenty pounds can hardly be laid out at one time in goods for sale, yet\nthat fitting up one of these shops should cost upwards of \u00a3300 in the\nyear 1710--let the year be recorded--the fitting up to consist of the\nfollowing particulars:--\n1. Sash windows, all of looking-glass plates, 12 inches by 16 inches in\nmeasure.\n2. All the walls of the shop lined up with galley-tiles, and the back\nshop with galley-tiles in panels, finely painted in forest-work and\nfigures.\n3. Two large pier looking-glasses and one chimney glass in the shop, and\none very large pier-glass seven feet high in the back shop.\n4. Two large branches of candlesticks, one in the shop, and one in the\nback room.\n5. Three great glass lanterns in the shop, and eight small ones.\n6. Twenty-five sconces against the wall, with a large pair of silver\nstanding candlesticks in the back room, value \u00a325.\n7. Six fine large silver salvers to serve sweetmeats.\n8. Twelve large high stands of rings, whereof three silver, to place\nsmall dishes for tarts, jellies, &c., at a feast.\n9. Painting the ceiling, and gilding the lanterns, the sashes, and the\ncarved work, \u00a355.\nThese, with some odd things to set forth the shop, and make a show,\nbesides small plate, and besides china basins and cups, amounted to, as\nI am well informed, above \u00a3300.\nAdd to this the more necessary part, which was:--\n1. Building two ovens, about \u00a325.\n2. Twenty pounds in stock for pies, cheese-cakes, &c.\nSo that, in short, here was a trade which might be carried on for about\n\u00a330 or \u00a340 stock, required \u00a3300 expenses to fit up the shop, and make a\nshow to invite customers.\nI might give something of a like example of extravagance in fitting up\na cutler's shop, _Anglic\u00e9_ a toyman, which are now come up to such a\nridiculous expense, as is hardly to be thought of without the utmost\ncontempt: let any one stop at the Temple, or at Paul's corner, or in\nmany other places.\nAs to the shops of the more considerable trades, they all bear a\nproportion of the humour of the times, but do not call for so loud a\nremark. Leaving, therefore, the just reflection which such things call\nfor, let me bring it home to the young tradesman, to whom I am directing\nthis discourse, and to whom I am desirous to give solid and useful hints\nfor his instruction, I would recommend it to him to avoid all such\nneedless expenses, and rather endeavour to furnish his shop with goods,\nthan to paint and gild it over, to make it fine and gay; let it invite\ncustomers rather by the well-filled presses and shelves, and the great\nchoice of rich and fashionable goods, that one customer being\nwell-served may bring another; and let him study to bring his shop into\nreputation for good choice of wares, and good attendance on his\ncustomers; and this shall bring a throng to him much better, and of much\nbetter people, than those that go in merely for a gay shop.\nLet the shop be decent and handsome, spacious as the place will allow,\nand let something like the face of a master be always to be seen in it;\nand, if possible, be always busy, and doing something in it, that may\nlook like being employed: this takes as much with the wiser observers of\nsuch things, as any other appearance can do.\nI have heard of a young apothecary, who setting up in a part of the\ntown, where he had not much acquaintance, and fearing much whether he\nshould get into business, hired a man acquainted with such business, and\nmade him be every morning between five and six, and often late in the\nevenings, working very hard at the great mortar; pounding and beating,\nthough he had nothing to do with it, but beating some very needless\nthing, that all his neighbours might hear it, and find that he was in\nfull employ, being at work early and late, and that consequently he must\nbe a man of vast business, and have a great practice: and the thing was\nwell laid, and took accordingly; for the neighbours, believing he had\nbusiness, brought business to him; and the reputation of having a trade,\nmade a trade for him.\nThe observation is just: a show may bring some people to a shop, but it\nis the fame of business that brings business; and nothing raises the\nfame of a shop like its being a shop of good trade already; then people\ngo to it, because they think other people go to it, and because they\nthink there is good choice of goods; their gilding and painting may go a\nlittle way, but it is the having a shop well filled with goods,[29]\nhaving good choice to sell, and selling reasonable--these are the things\nthat bring a trade, and a trade thus brought will stand by you and last;\nfor fame of trade brings trade anywhere.\nIt is a sign of the barrenness of the people's fancy, when they are so\neasily taken with shows and outsides of things. Never was such painting\nand gilding, such sashings and looking-glasses among the shopkeepers, as\nthere is now; and yet trade flourished more in former times by a gread\ndeal that it does now, if we may believe the report of very honest and\nunderstanding men. The reason, I think, cannot be to the credit of the\npresent age, nor it it to the discredit of the former; for they carried\non their trade with less gaiety, and with less expense, than we do\nMy advice to a young tradesman is to keep the safe middle between these\nextremes; something the times must be humoured in, because fashion and\ncustom must be followed; but let him consider the depth of his stock,\nand not lay out half his estate upon fitting up his shop, and then leave\nbut the other half to furnish it; it is much better to have a full shop,\nthan a fine shop; and a hundred pounds in goods will make a much better\nshow than a hundred pounds' worth of painting and carved work; it is\ngood to make a show, but not to be _all show._\nIt is true, that painting and adorning a shop seems to intimate, that\nthe tradesman has a large stock to begin with, or else they suggest he\nwould not make such a show; hence the young shopkeepers are willing to\nmake a great show, and beautify, and paint, and gild, and carve, because\nthey would be thought to have a great stock to begin with; but let me\ntell you, the reputation of having a great stock is ill purchased, when\nhalf your stock is laid out to make the world believe it; that is, in\nshort, reducing yourself to a small stock to have the world believe you\nhave a great one; in which you do no less than barter the real stock for\nthe imaginary, and give away your stock to keep the name of it only.\nI take this indeed to be a French humour, or a spice of it turned\nEnglish; and, indeed, we are famous for this, that when we do mimic the\nFrench, we generally do it to our hurt, and over-do the French\nthemselves.\nThe French nation are eminent for making a fine outside, when perhaps\nwithin they want necessaries; and, indeed, a gay shop and a mean stock\nis something like the Frenchman with his laced ruffles, without a shirt.\nI cannot but think a well-furnished shop with a moderate outside is much\nbetter to a tradesman, than a fine shop and few goods; I am sure it will\nbe much more to his satisfaction, when he casts up his year's account,\nfor his fine shop will weigh but sorrily in his account of profit and\nloss; it is all a dead article; it is sunk out of his first money,\nbefore he makes a shilling profit, and may be some years a-recovering,\nas trade may go with him.\nIt is true that all these notions of mine in trade are founded upon the\nprinciple of frugality and good husbandry; and this is a principle so\ndisagreeable to the times, and so contrary to the general practice, that\nwe shall find very few people to whom it is agreeable. But let me tell\nmy young tradesmen, that if they must banish frugality and good\nhusbandry, they must at the same time banish all expectation of growing\nrich by their trade. It is a maxim in commerce, that money gets money,\nand they that will not frugally lay up their gain, in order to increase\ntheir gain, must not expect to gain as they might otherwise do;\nfrugality may be out of fashion among the gentry, but if it comes to be\nso among tradesmen, we shall soon see that wealthy tradesmen will be\nhard to find; for they who will not save as well as gain, must expect to\ngo out of trade as lean as they began.\nSome people tell us indeed in many cases, especially in trade, that\nputting a good face upon things goes as far as the real merit of the\nthings themselves; and that a fine, painted, gilded shop, among the\nrest, has a great influence upon the people, draws customers, and brings\ntrade; and they run a great length in this discourse by satirising on\nthe blindness and folly of mankind, and how the world are to be taken in\ntheir own way; and seeing they are to be deluded and imposed upon in\nsuch an innocent way, they ought to be so far deluded and imposed upon,\nalluding to the old proverbial saying, '_Si populus vult decipi,\ndecipiatur;' _that it is no fraud, no crime, and can neither be against\nconscience, nor prudence; for if they are pleased with a show, why\nshould they not have it? and the like.\nThis way of talking is indeed plausible; and were the fact true, there\nmight be more in it than I think there is. But I do not grant that the\nworld is thus to be deluded; and that the people do follow this rule in\ngeneral--I mean, go always to a fine shop to lay out their money.\nPerhaps, in some cases, it may be so, where the women, and the weakest\nof the sex too, are chiefly concerned; or where the fops and fools of\nthe age resort; and as to those few, they that are willing to be so\nimposed upon, let them have it.\nBut I do not see, that even this extends any farther than to a few\ntoy-shops, and pastry-cooks; and the customers of both these are not of\ncredit sufficient, I think, to weigh in this case: we may as well argue\nfor the fine habits at a puppet-show and a rope-dancing, because they\ndraw the mob about them; but I cannot think, after you go but one degree\nabove these, the thing is of any weight, much less does it bring credit\nto the tradesman, whatever it may do to the shop.\nThe credit of a tradesman respects two sorts of people, first, the\nmerchants, or wholesale men, or makers, who sell him his goods, or the\ncustomers, who come to his shop to buy.\nThe first of these are so far from valuing him upon the gay appearance\nof his shop, that they are often the first that take an offence at it,\nand suspect his credit upon that account: their opinion upon a\ntradesman, and his credit with them, is raised quite another way,\nnamely, by his current pay, diligent attendance, and honest figure; the\ngay shop does not help him at all there, but rather the contrary.\nAs to the latter, though some customers may at first be drawn by the gay\nappearance and fine gilding and painting of a shop, yet it is the well\nsorting a shop with goods, and the selling good pennyworths, that will\nbring trade, especially after the shop has been open some time: this,\nand this only, establishes the man and the credit of the shop.\nTo conclude: the credit raised by the fine show of things is also of a\ndifferent kind from the substantial reputation of a tradesman; it is\nrather the credit of the shop, than of the man; and, in a word, it is no\nmore or less than a net spread to catch fools; it is a bait to allure\nand deceive, and the tradesman generally intends it so. He intends that\nthe customers shall pay for the gilding and painting his shop, and it is\nthe use he really makes of it, namely, that his shop looking like\nsomething eminent, he may sell dearer than his neighbours: who, and what\nkind of fools can so be drawn in, it is easy to describe, but satire is\nnone of our business here.\nOn the contrary, the customers, who are the substantial dependence of a\ntradesman's shop, are such as are gained and preserved by good usage,\ngood pennyworths, good wares, and good choice; and a shop that has the\nreputation of these four, like good wine that needs no bush, needs no\npainting and gilding, no carved works and ornaments;[31] it requires\nonly a diligent master and a faithful servant, and it will never want a\ntrade.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[29] [In another place, the author recommends a light stock, as showing\na nimble trade. There can be little doubt that he is more reasonable\nhere. A considerable abundance of goods is certainly an attraction to a\nshop. No doubt, a tradesman with little capital would only be incurring\ncertain ruin having a larger stock than he could readily pay for. He\nmust needs keep a small stock, if he would have a chance at all of doing\nwell in the world. But this does not make it the less an advantage to a\ntradesman of good capital to keep an abundant and various stock of\ngoods.]\n[30] [It is really curious to find in this chapter the same contrast\ndrawn between the _old_ and the _new_ style of fitting up shops, and\ncarrying on business, as would be drawn at the present day by nine out\nof every ten common observers. The notion that the shops of the past age\nwere plain, while those of the present are gaudy, and that the tradesmen\nof a past age carried on all their business in a quiet way and with\nlittle expense, is as strongly impressed on the minds of the present\ngeneration, as it is here seen to have been on those of Defoe's\ncontemporaries, a hundred and twenty years ago, although it is quite\nimpossible that the notion can be just in both cases. The truth probably\nis, that in Defoe's time, and at all former times, there were\nconspicuous, but not very numerous, examples of finely decorated shops,\nwhich seemed, and really were, very much of a novelty, as well as a\nrather striking exception from the style in which such places in general\nwere then, and had for many years been furnished. So far, however, from\nthese proving, as Defoe anticipates, a warning to future generations,\nthe general appearance of shops has experienced a vast improvement since\nthose days; and the third-rate class are now probably as fine as the\nfirst-rate were at no distant period. At the same time, as in the reign\nof the first George, we have now also a few shops fitted up in a style\nof extraordinary and startling elegance, and thus forming that contrast\nwith the general appearance of shops for the last forty years, which\nmakes old people, and many others, talk of all the past as homely and\nmoderate, and all the present as showy and expensive.]\n[31] [The author seems here to carry his objections to decoration to an\nextreme. Good usage, good pennyworths, good wares, and good choice, are\ndoubtless the four cardinal points of business; but a handsome shop also\ngoes a considerable way in attracting customers, and is a principle\nwhich no prudent tradesman will despise.]\nCHAPTER XX\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S KEEPING HIS BOOKS, AND CASTING UP HIS SHOP\nIt was an ancient and laudable custom with tradesmen in England always\nto balance their accounts of stock, and of profit and loss, at least\nonce every year; and generally it was done at Christmas, or New-year's\ntide, when they could always tell whether they went backward or forward,\nand how their affairs stood in the world; and though this good custom is\nvery much lost among tradesmen at this time, yet there are a great many\nthat do so still, and they generally call it _casting up shop. _To speak\nthe truth, the great occasion of omitting it has been from the many\ntradesmen, who do not care to look into things, and who, fearing their\naffairs are not right, care not to know how they go at all, good or bad;\nand when I see a tradesman that does not cast up once a-year, I conclude\nthat tradesman to be in very bad circumstances, that at least he fears\nhe is so, and by consequence cares not to inquire.\nAs casting up the shop is the way to know every year whether he goes\nbackward or forward, and is the tradesman's particular satisfaction, so\nhe must cast up his books too, or else it will be very ominous to the\ntradesman's credit.\nNow, in order to doing this effectually once a-year, it is needful the\ntradesman should keep his books always in order; his day-book duly\nposted, his cash duly balanced, and all people's accounts always fit for\na view. He that delights in his trade will delight in his books; and, as\nI said that he that will thrive must diligently attend his shop or\nwarehouse, and take up his delight there, so, I say now, he must also\ndiligently keep his books, or else he will never know whether he thrives\nor no.\nExact keeping his books is one essential part of a tradesman's\nprosperity. The books are the register of his estate, the index of his\nstock. All the tradesman has in the world must be found in these three\narticles, or some of them:--\nGoods in the shop; Money in cash; Debts abroad.\nThe shop will at any time show the first of these upon a small stop to\ncast it up; the cash-chest and bill-box will show the second at demand;\nand the ledger when posted will show the last; so that a tradesman can\nat any time, at a week's notice, cast up all these three; and then,\nexamining his accounts, to take the balance, which is a real trying what\nhe is worth in the world.\nIt cannot be satisfactory to any tradesman to let his books go\nunsettled, and uncast up, for then he knows nothing of himself, or of\nhis circumstances in the world; the books can tell him at any time what\nhis condition is, and will satisfy him what is the condition of his\ndebts abroad.\nIn order to his regular keeping his books, several things might be said\nvery useful for the tradesman to consider:\nI. Every thing done in the whole circumference of his trade must be set\ndown in a book, except the retail trade; and this is clear, if the goods\nare not in bulk, then the money is in cash, and so the substance will be\nalways found either there, or somewhere else; for if it is neither in\nthe shop, nor in the cash, nor in the books, it must be stolen and lost.\nII. As every thing done must be set down in the books, so it should be\ndone at the very time of it; all goods sold must be entered in the books\nbefore they are sent out of the house; goods sent away and not entered,\nare goods lost; and he that does not keep an exact account of what goes\nout and comes in, can never swear to his books, or prove his debts, if\noccasion calls for it.\nI am not going to set down rules here for book-keeping, or to teach the\ntradesman how to do it, but I am showing the necessity and usefulness of\ndoing it at all. That tradesman who keeps no books, may depend upon it\nhe will ere long keep no trade, unless he resolves also to give no\ncredit. He that gives no trust, and takes no trust, either by wholesale\nor by retail, and keeps his cash all himself, may indeed go on without\nkeeping any books at all; and has nothing to do, when he would know his\nestate, but to cast up his shop and his cash, and see how much they\namount to, and that is his whole and neat estate; for as he owes\nnothing, so nobody is in debt to him, and all his estate is in his shop;\nbut I suppose the tradesman that trades wholly thus, is not yet born, or\nif there ever were any such, they are all dead.\nA tradesman's books, like a Christian's conscience, should always be\nkept clean and clear; and he that is not careful of both will give but a\nsad account of himself either to God or man. It is true, that a great\nmany tradesmen, and especially shopkeepers, understand but little of\nbook-keeping; but it is as true that they all understand something of\nit, or else they will make but poor work of shopkeeping.\nI knew a tradesman that could not write, and yet he supplied the defect\nwith so many ingenious knacks of his own, to secure the account of what\npeople owed him, and was so exact doing it, and then took such care to\nhave but very short accounts with any body, that he brought up his\nmethod to be every way an equivalent to writing; and, as I often told\nhim, with half the study and application that those things cost him, he\nmight have learned to write, and keep books too. He made notches upon\nsticks for all the middling sums, and scored with chalk for lesser\nthings. He had drawers for every particular customer's name, which his\nmemory supplied, for he knew every particular drawer, though he had a\ngreat many, as well as if their faces had been painted upon them; he had\ninnumerable figures to signify what he would have written, if he could;\nand his shelves and boxes always put me in mind of the Egyptian\nhieroglyphics, and nobody understood them, or any thing of them, but\nhimself.\nIt was an odd thing to see him, when a country-chap, came up to settle\naccounts with him; he would go to a drawer directly, among such a number\nas was amazing: in that drawer was nothing but little pieces of split\nsticks, like laths, with chalk-marks on them, all as unintelligible as\nthe signs of the zodiac are to an old school-mistress that teaches the\nhorn-book and primer, or as Arabic or Greek is to a ploughman. Every\nstick had notches on one side for single pounds, on the other side for\ntens of pounds, and so higher; and the length and breadth also had its\nsignification, and the colour too; for they were painted in some places\nwith one colour, and in some places with anther; by which he knew what\ngoods had been delivered for the money: and his way of casting up was\nvery remarkable, for he knew nothing of figures; but he kept six spoons\nin a place on purpose, near his counter, which he took out when he had\noccasion to cast up any sum, and, laying the spoons in a row before him,\nhe counted upon them thus:\n   One, two, three, and another, one odd spoon, and t'other | | | | | |\nBy this he told up to six; if he had any occasion to tell any farther,\nhe began again, as we do after the number ten in our ordinary\nnumeration; and by this method, and running them up very quick, he would\ncount any number under thirty-six, which was six spoons of six spoons,\nand then, by the strength of his head, he could number as many more as\nhe pleased, multiplying them always by sixes, but never higher.\nI give this instance to show how far the application of a man's head\nmight go to supply the defect, but principally to show (and it does\nabundantly show it) what an absolute necessity there is for a tradesman\nto be very diligent and exact in keeping his books, and what pains those\nwho understand their business will always take to do it.\nThis tradesman was indeed a country shopkeeper; but he was so\nconsiderable a dealer, that he became mayor of the city which he lived\nin (for it was a city, and that a considerable city too), and his\nposterity have been very considerable traders in the same city ever\nsince, and they show their great-grandfather's six counting spoons and\nhis hieroglyphics to this day.\nAfter some time, the old tradesman bred up two of his sons to his\nbusiness, and the young men having learned to write, brought books into\nthe counting-house, things their father had never used before; but the\nold man kept to his old method for all that, and would cast up a sum,\nand make up an account with his spoons and his drawers, as soon as they\ncould with their pen and ink, if it were not too full of small articles,\nand that he had always avoided in his business.\nHowever, as I have said above, this evidently shows the necessity of\nbook-keeping to a tradesman, and the very nature of the thing evidences\nalso that it must be done with the greatest exactness. He that does not\nkeep his books exactly, and so as that he may depend upon them for\ncharging his debtors, had better keep no books at all, but, like my\nshopkeeper, score and notch every thing; for as books well kept make\nbusiness regular, easy, and certain, so books neglected turn all into\nconfusion, and leave the tradesman in a wood, which he can never get out\nof without damage and loss. If ever his dealers know that his books are\nill kept, they play upon him, and impose horrid forgeries and falsities\nupon him: whatever he omits they catch at, and leave it out; whatever\nthey put upon him, he is bound to yield to; so that, in short, as books\nwell kept are the security of the tradesman's estate, and the\nascertaining of his debts, so books ill kept will assist every knavish\ncustomer or chapman to cheat and deceive him.\nSome men keep a due and exact entry or journal of all they sell, or\nperhaps of all they buy or sell, but are utterly remiss in posting it\nforward to a ledger; that is to say, to another book, where every parcel\nis carried to the debtor's particular account. Likewise they keep\nanother book, where they enter all the money they receive, but, as\nabove, never keeping any account for the man; there it stands in the\ncash-book, and both these books must be ransacked over for the\nparticulars, as well of goods sold, as of the money received, when this\ncustomer comes to have his account made up; and as the goods are\ncertainly entered when sold or sent away, and the money is certainly\nentered when it is received, this they think is sufficient, and all the\nrest superfluous.\nI doubt not such tradesmen often suffer as much by their slothfulness\nand neglect of book-keeping, as might, especially if their business is\nconsiderable, pay for a book-keeper; for what is such a man's case,\nwhen his customer, suppose a country dealer, comes to town, which\nperhaps he does once a-year (as in the custom of other tradesmen), and\ndesires to have his account made up? The London tradesman goes to his\nbooks, and first he rummages his day-book back for the whole year, and\ntakes out the foot[32] of all the parcels sent to his chapman, and they\nmake the debtor side of the account; then he takes his cash-book, if it\ndeserves that name, and there he takes out all the sums of money which\nthe chapman has sent up, or bills which he has received, and these make\nthe creditor side of the account; and so the balance is drawn out, and\nthis man thinks himself a mighty good accountant, that he keeps his\nbooks exactly; and so perhaps he does, as far as he keeps them at all;\nthat is to say, he never sends a parcel away to his customer, but he\nenters it down, and never receives a bill from him, but he sets it down\nwhen the money is paid; but now take this man and his chap, together, as\nthey are making up this account. The chapman, a sharp clever tradesman,\nthough a countryman, has his pocket-book with him, and in it a copy of\nhis posting-book, so the countrymen call a ledger, where the London\ntradesman's accounts are copied out; and when the city tradesman has\ndrawn out his account, he takes it to his inn and examines it by his\nlittle book, and what is the consequence?\nIf the city tradesman has omitted any of the bills which the country\ntradesman has sent him up, he finds it out, and is sure to put him in\nmind of it. 'Sir,' says he, 'you had a bill from me upon Mr A.G. at such\na time, for thirty pounds, and I have your letter that you received the\nmoney; but you have omitted it in the account, so that I am not so much\nin your debt by thirty pounds, as you thought I was.'\n'Say you so!' says the city tradesman; 'I cannot think but you must be\nmistaken.'\n'No, no!' says the other, 'I am sure I can't be mistaken, for I have it\nin my book; besides, I can go to Mr A.G., whom the bill was drawn upon,\nand there is, to be sure, your own endorsement upon it, and a receipt\nfor the money.'\n'Well,' says the citizen, 'I keep my books as exact as any body--I'll\nlook again, and if it be there I shall find it, for I am sure if I had\nit, it is in my cash-book.'\n'Pray do, then,' says the countryman, 'for I am sure I sent it you, and\nI am sure I can produce the bill, if there be occasion.'\nAway goes the tradesman to his books, which he pretends he keeps so\nexact, and examining them over again, he finds the bill for thirty\npounds entered fairly, but in his running the whole year over together,\nas well he might, he had overlooked it, whereas, if his cash-book had\nbeen duly posted every week, as it ought to have been, this bill had\nbeen regularly placed to account.\nBut now, observe the difference: the bill for thirty pounds being\nomitted, was no damage to the country tradesman, because he has an\naccount of it in his book of memorandums, and had it regularly posted in\nhis books at home, whatever the other had, and also was able to bring\nsufficient proof of the payment; so the London tradesman's omission was\nno hurt to him.\nBut the case differs materially in the debtor side of the account; for\nhere the tradesman, who with all his boasts of keeping his books\nexactly, has yet no ledger, which being, as I have said, duly posted,\nshould show every man's account at one view; and being done every week,\nleft it scarce possible to omit any parcel that was once entered in the\nday-book or journal--I say, the tradesman keeping no ledger, he looks\nover his day-book for the whole year past, to draw up the debtor side of\nhis customer's account, and there being a great many parcels, truly he\noverlooks one or two of them, or suppose but one of them, and gives the\nchapman the account, in which he sums up his debtor side so much,\nsuppose \u00a3136, 10s.: the chapman examining this by his book, as he did\nthe cash, finds two parcels, one \u00a37, 15s., and the other \u00a39, 13s.,\nomitted; so that by his own book his debtor side was \u00a3153, 18s.; but\nbeing a cunning sharp tradesman, and withal not exceeding honest, 'Well,\nwell,' says he to himself, 'if Mr G. says it is no more than \u00a3136, 10s.\nwhat have I to do to contradict him? it is none of my business to keep\nhis books for him; it is time enough for me to reckon for it when he\ncharges me.' So he goes back to him the next day, and settles accounts\nwith him, pays him the balance in good bills which he brought up with\nhim for that purpose, takes a receipt in full of all accounts and\ndemands to such a day of the month, and the next day comes and looks out\nanother parcel of goods, and so begins an account for the next year,\nlike a current chapman, and has the credit of an extraordinary customer\nthat pays well, and clears his accounts every year; which he had not\ndone had he not seen the advantage, and so strained himself to pay, that\nhe might get a receipt in full of all accounts.\nIt happens some years after that this city tradesman dies, and his\nexecutors finding his accounts difficult to make up, there being no\nbooks to be found but a day-book and a cash-book, they get some skilful\nbook-keeper to look into them, who immediately sees that the only way to\nbring the accounts to a head, is to form a ledger out of the other two,\nand post every body's account into it from the beginning; for though it\nwere a long way back, there is no other remedy.\nIn doing this, they come to this mistake, among a great many others of\nthe like kind in other chapmen's accounts; upon this they write to the\nchapman, and tell him they find him debtor to the estate of the deceased\nin such a sum of money, and desire him to make payment.\nThe country shopkeeper huffs them, tells them he always made up accounts\nwith Mr. G., the deceased, once a-year, as he did with all his other\nchapmen, and that he took his receipt in full of all accounts and\ndemands, upon paying the balance to him at such a time; which receipt he\nhas to show; and that he owes him nothing, or but such a sum, being the\naccount of goods bought since.\nThe executors finding the mistake, and how it happened, endeavour to\nconvince him of it; but it is all one-he wants no convincing, for he\nknows at bottom how it is; but being a little of a knave himself, or if\nyou please, not a little, he tells them he cannot enter into the\naccounts so far back--Mr G. always told him he kept his books very\nexactly, and he trusted to him; and as he has his receipt in full, and\nit is so long ago, he can say nothing to it.\nFrom hence they come to quarrel, and the executors threaten him with\ngoing to law; but he bids them defiance, and insists upon his receipt in\nfull; and besides that, it is perhaps six years ago, and so he tells\nthem he will plead the statute of limitations upon them; and then adds,\nthat he does not do it avoid a just debt, but to avoid being imposed\nupon, he not understanding books so well as Mr G. pretended to do; and\nhaving balanced accounts so long ago with him, he stands by the balance,\nand has nothing to say to their mistakes, not he. So that, in short, not\nfinding any remedy, they are forced to sit down by the loss; and perhaps\nin the course of twenty years' trade, Mr G. might lose a great many such\nparcels in the whole; and had much better have kept a ledger; or if he\ndid not know how to keep a ledger himself, had better have hired a\nbook-keeper to have come once a-week, or once a-month, to have posted\nhis day-book for him.\nThe like misfortune attends the not balancing his cash, a thing which\nsuch book-keepers as Mr G. do not think worth their trouble; nor do they\nunderstand the benefit of it. The particulars, indeed, of this article\nare tedious, and would be too long for a chapter; but certainly they\nthat know any thing of the use of keeping an exact cash-book, know that,\nwithout it, a tradesman can never be thoroughly satisfied either of his\nown not committing mistakes, or of any people cheating him, I mean\nservants, or sons, or whoever is the first about him.\nWhat I call balancing his cash-book, is, first, the casting up daily, or\nweekly, or monthly, his receipts and payments, and then seeing what\nmoney is left in hand, or, as the usual expression of the tradesman is,\nwhat money is in cash; secondly, the examining his money, telling it\nover, and seeing how much he has in his chest or bags, and then seeing\nif it agrees with the balance of his book, that what is, and what should\nbe, correspond.\nAnd here let me give tradesmen a caution or two.\n1. Never sit down satisfied with an error in the cash; that is to say,\nwith a difference between the money really in the cash, and the balance\nin the book; for if they do not agree, there must be a mistake\nsomewhere, and while there is a mistake in the cash, the tradesman\ncannot, at least he ought not to be, easy. He that can be easy with a\nmistake in his cash, may be easy with a gang of thieves in his house;\nfor if his money does not come right, he must have paid something that\nis not set down, and that is to be supposed as bad as if it were lost;\nor he must have somebody about him that can find the way to his money\nbesides himself, that is to say, somebody that should not come to it;\nand if so, what is the difference between that and having a gang of\nthieves about him?--for every one that takes money out of his cash\nwithout his leave, and without letting him know it, is so far a thief to\nhim: and he can never pretend to balance his cash, nor, indeed, know any\nthing of his affairs, that does not know which way his money goes.\n2. A tradesman endeavouring to balance his cash, should no more be\nsatisfied if he finds a mistake in his cash one way, than another--that\nis to say, if he finds more in cash than by the balance of his cash-book\nought to be there, than if he finds less, or wanting in cash. I know\nmany, who, when they find it thus, sit down satisfied, and say, 'Well,\nthere is an error, and I don't know where it lies; but come, it is an\nerror on the right hand; I have more cash in hand than I should have,\nthat is all, so I am well enough; let it go; I shall find it some time\nor other.' But the tradesman ought to consider that he is quite in the\ndark; and as he does not really know where it lies, so, for ought he\nknows, the error may really be to his loss very considerably--and the\ncase is very plain, that it is as dangerous to be over, as it would be\nto be under; he should, therefore, never give it over till he has found\nit out, and brought it to rights. For example:\nIf there appears to be more money in the cash than there is by the\nbalance in the cash-book, this must follow--namely, that some parcel of\nmoney must have been received, which is not entered in the book; now,\ntill the tradesman knows what sum of money this is, that is thus not\nentered, how can he tell but the mistake may be quite the other way, and\nthe cash be really wrong to his loss? Thus,\nMy cash-book being cast up for the last month, I find, by the foot of\nthe leaf, there is cash remaining in hand to balance \u00a3176, 10s. 6d.\nTo see if all things are right, I go and tell my money over, and there,\nto my surprise, I find \u00a3194, 10s. 6d. in cash, so that I have \u00a318 there\nmore than I should have. Now, far from being pleased that I have more\nmoney by me than I should have, my inquiry is plain, 'How comes this to\npass?'\nPerhaps I puzzle my head a great while about it, but not being able to\nfind out, I sit down easy and satisfied, and say, 'Well, I don't much\nconcern myself about it; it is better to be so than \u00a318 missing; I\ncannot tell where it lies, but let it lie where it will, here is the\nmoney to make up the mistake when it appears.'\nBut how foolish is this! how ill-grounded the satisfaction! and how weak\nam I to argue thus, and please myself with the delusion! For some months\nafter, it appears, perhaps, that whereas there was \u00a338 entered, received\nof Mr B.K., the figure 3 was mistaken, and set down for a figure of 5,\nfor the sum received was \u00a358; so that, instead of having \u00a318 more in\ncash than there ought to be, I have 40s. wanting in my cash, which my\nson or my apprentice stole from me when they put in the money, and made\nthe mistake of the figures to puzzle the book, that it might be some\ntime before it should be discovered.\nUpon the whole, take it as a rule, the tradesman ought to be as\nunsatisfied when he finds a mistake to his gain in his cash, as when he\nfinds it to his loss; and it is every whit as dangerous, nay, it is the\nmore suspicious, because it seems to be laid as a bait for him to stop\nhis mouth, and to prevent further inquiries; and it is on that account\nthat I leave this caution upon record, that the tradesman may be duly\nalarmed.\nThe keeping a cash-book is one of the nicest parts of a tradesman's\nbusiness, because there is always the bag and the book to be brought\ntogether, and if they do not exactly speak the same language, even to a\nfarthing, there must be some omission; and how big or how little that\nomission may be, who knows, or how shall it be known, but by casting and\nrecasting up, telling, and telling over and over again, the money?\nIf there is but twenty shillings over in the money, the question is,\n'How came it there?' It must be received somewhere, and of somebody,\nmore than is entered; and how can the cash-keeper, be he master or\nservant, know but more was received with it, which is not, and should\nhave been, entered, and so the loss may be the other way? It is true, in\ntelling money there may have been a mistake, and he that received a sum\nof money may have received twenty shillings too much, or five pounds too\nmuch--and such a mistake I have known to be made in the paying and\nreceiving of money--and a man's cash has been more perplexed, and his\nmind more distracted about it, than the five pounds have been worth,\nbecause he could not find it out, till some accident has discovered\nit;[33] and the reason is, because not knowing which way it could come\nthere, he could not know but some omission might be made to his loss\nanother way, as in the case above mentioned.\nI knew, indeed, a strong waterman, who drove a very considerable trade,\nbut, being an illiterate tradesman, never balanced his cash-book for\nmany years, nor scarce posted his other books, and, indeed, hardly\nunderstood how to do it; but knowing his trade was exceedingly\nprofitable, and keeping his money all himself, he was easy, and grew\nrich apace, in spite of the most unjustifiable, and, indeed, the most\nintolerable, negligence; but lest this should be pleaded as an exception\nto my general rule, and to invalidate the argument, give me leave to\nadd, that, though this man grew rich in spite of indolence, and a\nneglect of his book, yet, when he died, two things appeared, which no\ntradesman in his wits would desire should be said of him.\nI. The servants falling out, and maliciously accusing one another, had,\nas it appeared by the affidavits of several of them, wronged him of\nseveral considerable sums of money, which they received, and never\nbrought into the books; and others, of sums which they brought into the\nbooks, but never brought into the cash; and others, of sums which they\ntook ready money in the shop, and never set down, either the goods in\nthe day-book, or the money into the cash-book; and it was thought,\nthough he was so rich as not to feel it, that is, not to his hurt, yet\nthat he lost three or four hundred pounds a-year in that manner, for the\ntwo or three last years of his life; but his widow and son, who came\nafter him, having the discovery made to them, took better measures\nafterwards.\nII. He never did, or could know, what he was worth, for the accounts in\nhis books were never made up; nor when he came to die, could his\nexecutors make up any man's account, so as to be able to prove the\nparticulars, and make a just demand of their debt, but found a\nprodigious number of small sums of money paid by the debtors, as by\nreceipts in their books and on their files, some by himself, and some by\nhis man, which were never brought to account, or brought into cash; and\nhis man's answer being still, that he gave all to the master, they could\nnot tell how to charge him by the master's account, because several\nsums, which the master himself received, were omitted being entered in\nthe same manner, so that all was confusion and neglect; and though the\nman died rich, it was in spite of that management that would have made\nany but himself have died poor.\nExact book-keeping is to me the effect of a man whose heart is in his\nbusiness, and who intends to thrive. He that cares not whether his books\nare kept well or no, is in my opinion one that does not much care\nwhether he thrives or no; or else, being in desperate circumstances,\nknows it, and that he cannot, or does not thrive, and so matters not\nwhich way it goes.\nIt is true, the neglect of the books is private and secret, and is\nseldom known to any body but the tradesman himself, at least till he\ncomes to break, and be a bankrupt, and then you frequently hear them\nexclaim against him, upon that very account. 'Break!' says one of the\nassignees; 'how should he but break?--why, he kept no books; you never\nsaw books kept in such a scandalous manner in your life; why, he has not\nposted his cash-book, for I know not how many months; nor posted his\nday-book and journal at all, except here and there an account that he\nperhaps wanted to know the balance of; and as for balancing his cash, I\ndon't see any thing of that done, I know not how long. Why, this fellow\ncould never tell how he went on, or how things stood with him: I wonder\nhe did not break a long time ago.'\nNow, the man's case was this: he knew how to keep his books well enough,\nperhaps, and could write well enough; and if you look into his five or\nsix first years of trade, you find all his accounts well kept, the\njournal duly posted, the cash monthly balanced; but the poor man found\nafter that, that things went wrong, that he went backwards, and that all\nwent down-hill, and he hated to look into his books. As a profligate\nnever looks into his conscience, because he can see nothing there but\nwhat terrifies and affrights him, makes him uneasy and melancholy, so a\nsinking tradesman cares not to look into his books, because the prospect\nthere is dark and melancholy. 'What signify the accounts to me?' says\nhe; 'I can see nothing in the books but debts that 1 cannot pay, and\ndebtors that will never pay; I can see nothing there but how I have\ntrusted my estate away like a fool, and how I am to be ruined for my\neasiness, and being a sot:' and this makes him throw them away, and\nhardly post things enough to make up when folks call to pay; or if he\ndoes post such accounts as he has money to receive from, that's all, and\nthe rest lie at random, till, as I say, the assignees come to reproach\nhim with his negligence.\nWhereas, in truth, the man understood his books well enough, but had no\nheart to look in them, no courage to balance them, because of the\nafflicting prospect of them.\nBut let me here advise tradesmen to keep a perfect acquaintance with\ntheir books, though things are bad and discouraging; it keeps them in\nfull knowledge of what they are doing, and how they really stand; and it\nbrings them sometimes to the just reflections on their circumstances\nwhich they ought to make; so to stop in time, as I hinted before, and\nnot let things run too far before they are surprised and torn to pieces\nby violence.\nAnd, at the worst, even a declining tradesman should not let his books\nbe neglected; if his creditors find them punctually kept to the last, it\nwill be a credit to him, and they would see he was a man fit for\nbusiness; and I have known when that very thing has recommended a\ntradesman so much to his creditors, that after the ruin of his fortunes,\nsome or other of them have taken him into business, as into partnership,\nor into employment, only because they knew him to be qualified for\nbusiness, and for keeping books in particular.\nBut if we should admonish the tradesman to an exact and regular care of\nhis books, even in his declining fortunes, much more should it be his\ncare in his beginning, and before any disaster has befallen him. I doubt\nnot, that many a tradesman has miscarried by the mistakes and neglect of\nhis books; for the losses that men suffer on that account are not easily\nset down; but I recommend it to a tradesman to take exact care of his\nbooks, as I would to every man to take care of his diet and temperate\nliving, in order to their health; for though, according to some, we\ncannot, by all our care and caution, lengthen out life, but that every\none must and shall live their appointed time,[34] yet, by temperance and\nregular conduct, we may make that life more comfortable, more agreeable,\nand pleasant, by its being more healthy and hearty; so, though the\nexactest book-keeping cannot be said to make a tradesman thrive, or that\nhe shall stand the longer in his business, because his profit and loss\ndo not depend upon his books, or the goodness of his debts depend upon\nthe debtor's accounts being well posted, yet this must be said, that the\nwell keeping of his books may be the occasion of his trade being carried\non with the more ease and pleasure, and the more satisfaction, by having\nnumberless quarrels, and contentions, and law-suits, which are the\nplagues of a tradesman's life, prevented and avoided; which, on the\ncontrary, often torment a tradesman, and make his whole business be\nuneasy to him for want of being able to make a regular proof of things\nby his books.\nA tradesman without his books, in case of a law-suit for a debt, is like\na married woman without her certificate. How many times has a woman\nbeen cast, and her cause not only lost, but her reputation and\ncharacter exposed, for want of being able to prove her marriage, though\nshe has been really and honestly married, and has merited a good\ncharacter all her days? And so in trade, many a debt has been lost, many\nan account been perplexed by the debtor, many a sum of money been\nrecovered, and actually paid over again, especially after the tradesman\nhas been dead, for want of hits keeping his books carefully and exactly\nwhen he was alive; by which negligence, if he has not been ruined when\nhe was living, his widow and children have been ruined after his\ndecease; though, had justice been done, he had left them in good\ncircumstances, and with sufficient to support them.\nAnd this brings me to another principal reason why a tradesman should\nnot only keep books, but be very regular and exact in keeping them in\norder, that is to say, duly posted, and all his affairs exactly and duly\nentered in his books; and this is, that if he should be surprised by\nsudden or unexpected sickness, or death, as many are, and as all may be,\nhis accounts may not be left intricate and unsettled, and his affairs\nthereby be perplexed.\nNext to being prepared for death, with respect to Heaven and his soul, a\ntradesman should be always in a state of preparation for death, with\nrespect to his books; it is in vain that he calls for a scrivener or\nlawyer, and makes a will, when he finds a sudden summons sent him for\nthe grave, and calls his friends about him to divide and settle his\nestate; if his business is in confusion below stairs, his books out of\norder, and his accounts unsettled, to what purpose does he give his\nestate among his relations, when nobody knows where to find it?\nAs, then, the minister exhorts us to take care of our souls, and make\nour peace with Heaven, while we are in a state of health, and while life\nhas no threatening enemies about it, no diseases, no fevers attending;\nso let me second that advice to the tradesman always to keep his books\nin such a posture, that if he should be snatched away by death, his\ndistressed widow and fatherless family may know what is left for them,\nand may know where to look for it. He may depend upon it, that what he\nowes to any one they will come fast enough for, and his widow and\nexecutrix will be pulled to pieces for it, if she cannot and does not\nspeedily pay it. Why, then, should he not put her in a condition to have\njustice done her and her children, and to know how and of whom to seek\nfor his just debts, that she may be able to pay others, and secure the\nremainder for herself and her children? I must confess, a tradesman not\nto leave his books in order when he dies, argues him to be either.\n1. A very bad Christian, who had few or no thoughts of death upon him,\nor that considered nothing of its frequent coming unexpected and sudden\nwithout warning; or,\n2. A very unnatural relation, without the affections of a father, or a\nhusband, or even of a friend, that should rather leave what he had to be\nswallowed up by strangers, than leave his family and friends in a\ncondition to find, and to recover it.\nAgain, it is the same case as in matters religious, with respect to the\ndoing this in time, and while health and strength remain. For, as we say\nvery well, and with great reason, that the work of eternity should not\nbe left to the last moments; that a death-bed is no place, and a sick\nlanguishing body no condition, and the last breath no time, for\nrepentance; so I may add, neither are these the place, the condition,\nnor the time, to make up our accounts. There is no posting the books on\na death-bed, or balancing the cash-book in a high fever. Can the\ntradesman tell you where his effects lie, and to whom he has lent or\ntrusted sums of money, or large quantities of goods, when he is\ndelirious and light-headed? All these things must be done in time, and\nthe tradesman should take care that his books should always do this for\nhim, and then he has nothing to do but make his will, and dispose of\nwhat he has; and for the rest he refers them to his books, to know where\nevery thing is to be had.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[32] [The sum at the bottom, or _foot_, of the account.]\n[33] [This reminds the editor of an amusing anecdote he has heard,\nillustrative of the diseased accuracy, as it may be called, of a certain\nexisting London merchant. On reckoning up his household book one year,\nhe found that he had expended one penny more than was accounted for, and\nthere was accordingly an error to that extent in his reckoning. The very\nidea of an error, however trifling the amount, gave him great\nuneasiness, and he set himself with the greatest anxiety to discover, if\npossible, the occasion. He employed the by-hours of weeks in the vain\nattempt; but at length, having one day to cross Waterloo Bridge, where\nthere is a pontage of a penny for foot passengers, he all at once, to\nhis inconceivable joy, recollected having there disbursed the coin in\nquestion about a twelvemonth before.]\n[34] [The correct doctrine is, we _may_ not, by our utmost care and\ndiligence, avoid the causes of an early and premature death; but he who\nacts according to the rules which promote health, and avoids all things\nwhich tend to endanger it, has a much better chance of living to the\nnatural period appointed for human life than he who acts\notherwise--besides, as stated in the text, making his life more\nagreeable. The author's illustration would be more properly drawn if we\nwere to say, 'The tradesman, by keeping exact accounts, may not succeed\nin contending against certain unfavourable circumstances, no more than\nthe man who lives according to the just rules of nature may thereby\nsucceed in eviting other evils that tend to cut short life; but as the\ntemperate man is most likely to be healthy, so is the tradesman, who\nkeeps exact accounts, most likely to thrive in business.']\nCHAPTER XXI\nOF THE TRADESMAN LETTING HIS WIFE BE ACQUAINTED WITH HIS BUSINESS\nIt must be acknowledged, that as this chapter seems to be written in\nfavour of the women, it also seems to be an officious, thankless\nbenefaction to the wives; for that, as the tradesman's ladies now\nmanage, they are above the favour, and put no value upon it. On the\ncontrary, the women, generally speaking, trouble not their heads about\nit, scorn to be seen in the counting house, much less behind the\ncounter; despise the knowledge of their husbands' business, and act as\nif they were ashamed of being tradesmen's wives, and never intended to\nbe tradesmen's widows.\nIf this chosen ignorance of theirs comes some time or other to be their\nloss, and they find the disadvantage of it too late, they may read their\nfault in their punishment, and wish too late they had acted the humbler\npart, and not thought it below them to inform themselves of what it is\nso much their interest to know. This pride is, indeed, the great\nmisfortune of tradesmen's wives; for, as they lived as if they were\nabove being owned for the tradesman's wife, so, when he dies, they live\nto be the shame of the tradesman's widow. They knew nothing how he got\nhis estate when he was alive, and they know nothing where to find it\nwhen he is dead. This drives them into the hands of lawyers, attorneys,\nand solicitors, to get in their effects; who, when they have got it,\noften run away with it, and leave the poor widow in a more disconsolate\nand perplexed condition than she was in before.\nIt is true, indeed, that this is the women's fault in one respect, and\ntoo often it is so in many, since the common spirit is, as I observed,\nso much above the tradesman's condition; but since it is not so with\nevery body, let me state the case a little for the use of those who\nstill have ther senses about them; and whose pride is not got so much\nabove their reason, as to let them choose to be tradesmen's beggars,\nrather than tradesmen's widows.\nWhen the tradesman dies, it is to be expected that what estate or\neffects he leaves, is, generally speaking, dispersed about in many\nhands; his widow, if she is left executrix, has the trouble of getting\nthings together as well as she can; if she is not left executrix, she\nhas not the trouble indeed, but then it is looked upon that she is\ndishonoured in not having the trust; when she comes to look into her\naffairs, she is more or less perplexed and embarrassed, as she has not\nor has acquainted herself, or been made acquainted, with her husband's\naffairs in his lifetime.\nIf she has been one of those gay delicate ladies, that valuing herself\nupon her being a gentlewoman, and that thought it a step below herself,\nwhen she married this mechanic thing called a tradesman, and\nconsequently scorned to come near his shop, or warehouse, and by\nconsequence acquainting herself with any of his affairs,[35] or so much\nas where his effects lay, which are to be her fortune for the future--I\nsay, if this has been her case, her folly calls for pity now, as her\npride did for contempt before; for as she was foolish in the first, she\nmay be miserable in the last part of it; for now she falls into a sea of\ntrouble, she has the satisfaction of knowing that her husband has died,\nas the tradesmen call it, well to pass, and that she is left well\nenough; but she has at the same time the mortification of knowing\nnothing how to get it in, or in what hands it lies. The only relief she\nhas is her husband's books, and she is happy in that, but just in\nproportion to the care he took in keeping them; even when she finds the\nnames of debtors, she knows not who they are, or where they dwell, who\nare good, and who are bad; the only remedy she has here, if her husband\nhad ever a servant, or apprentice, who was so near out of his time as to\nbe acquainted with the customers, and with the books, then she is forced\nto be beholden to him to settle the accounts for her, and endeavour to\nget in the debts; in return for which she is forced to give him his time\nand freedom, and let him into the trade, make him master of all the\nbusiness in the world, and it may be at last, with all her pride, has to\ntake him for a husband; and when her friends upbraid her with it, that\nshe should marry her apprentice boy, when it may be she was old enough\nto be his mother, her answer is, 'Why, what could I do? I see I must\nhave been ruined else; I had nothing but what lay abroad in debts,\nscattered about the world, and nobody but he knew how to get them in.\nWhat could I do? If I had not done it, I must have been a beggar.' And\nso, it may be, _she is_ at last too, if the boy of a husband proves a\nbrute to her, as many do, and as in such unequal matches indeed most\nsuch people do. Thus, that pride which once set her above a kind,\ndiligent, tender husband, and made her scorn to stoop to acquaint\nherself with his affairs, by which, had she done it, she had been\ntolerably qualified to get in her debts, dispose of her shop-goods, and\nbring her estate together--the same pride sinks her into the necessity\nof cringing to a scoundrel, and taking her servant to be her master.\nThis I mention for the caution of those ladies who stoop to marry men of\nbusiness, and yet despise the business they are maintained by; that\nmarry the tradesman, but scorn the trade. If madam thinks fit to stoop\nto the man, she ought never to think herself above owning his\nemployment; and as she may upon occasion of his death be left to value\nherself upon it, and to have at least her fortune and her children's to\ngather up out of it, she ought not to profess herself so unacquainted\nwith it as not to be able to look into it when necessity obliges her.\nIt is a terrible disaster to any woman to be so far above her own\ncircumstances, that she should not qualify herself to make the best of\nthings that are left her, or to preserve herself from being cheated, and\nbeing imposed upon. In former times, tradesmen's widows valued\nthemselves upon the shop and trade, or the warehouse and trade, that\nwere left them; and at least, if they did not carry on the trade in\ntheir own names, they would keep it up till they put it off to\nadvantage; and often I have known a widow get from \u00a3300 to \u00a3500 for the\ngood-will, as it is called, of the shop and trade, if she did not think\nfit to carry on the trade; if she did, the case turned the other way,\nnamely, that if the widow did not put off the shop, the shop would put\noff the widow; and I may venture to say, that where there is one widow\nthat keeps on the trade now, after a husband's decease, there were ten,\nif not twenty, that did it then.\nBut now the ladies are above it, and disdain it so much, that they\nchoose rather to go without the prospect of a second marriage, in virtue\nof the trade, than to stoop to the mechanic low step of carrying on a\ntrade; and they have their reward, for they do go without it; and\nwhereas they might in former times match infinitely to their advantage\nby that method, now they throw themselves away, and the trade too.[36]\nBut this is not the case which I particularly aim at in this chapter. If\nthe women will act weakly and foolishly, and throw away the advantages\nthat he puts into their hands, be that to them, and it is their business\nto take care of that; but I would have them have the opportunity put\ninto their hands, and that they may make the best of it if they please;\nif they will not, the fault is their own. But to this end, I say, I\nwould have every tradesman make his wife so much acquainted with his\ntrade, and so much mistress of the managing part of it, that she might\nbe able to carry it on if she pleased, in case of his death; if she does\nnot please, that is another case; or if she will not acquaint herself\nwith it, that also is another case, and she must let it alone; but he\nshould put it into her power, or give her the offer of it.\nFirst, he should do it for her own sake, namely, as before, that she may\nmake her advantage of it, either for disposing herself and the shop\ntogether, as is said above, or for the more readily disposing the goods,\nand getting in the debts, without dishonouring herself, as I have\nobserved, and marrying her 'prentice boy, in order to take care of the\neffects--that is to say, ruining herself to prevent her being ruined.\nSecondly, he should do it for his children's sake, if he has any, that\nif the wife have any knowledge of the business, and has a son to breed\nup to it, though he be not yet of age to take it up, she may keep the\ntrade for him, and introduce him into it, that so he may take the\ntrouble off her hands, and she may have the satisfaction of preserving\nthe father's trade for the benefit of his son, though left too young to\nenter upon it at first.\nThus I have known many a widow that would have thought it otherwise\nbelow her, has engaged herself in her husbands's business, and carried\nit on, purely to bring her eldest son up to it, and has preserved it for\nhim, and which has been an estate to him, whereas otherwise it must have\nbeen lost, and he would have had the world to seek for a new business.\nThis is a thing which every honest affectionate mother would, or at\nleast should, be so willing to do for a son, that she, I think, who\nwould not, ought not to marry a tradesman at all; but if she would think\nherself above so important a trust for her own children, she should\nlikewise think herself above having children by a tradesman, and marry\nsomebody whose children she would act the mother for.\nBut every widow is not so unnatural, and I am willing to suppose the\ntradesman I am writing to shall be better married, and, therefore, I\ngive over speaking to the woman's side, and I will suppose the\ntradesman's wife not to be above her quality, and willing to be made\nacquainted with her husband's affairs, as well as to be helpful to him,\nif she can, as to be in a condition to be helpful to herself and her\nfamily, if she comes to have occasion. But, then, the difficulty often\nlies on the other side the question, and the tradesman cares not to lay\nopen his business to, or acquaint his wife with it; and many\ncircumstances of the tradesman draw him into this snare; for I must call\nit a snare both to him and to her.\nI. The tradesman is foolishly vain of making his wife a gentlewoman,\nand, forsooth, he will have her sit above in the parlour, and receive\nvisits, and drink tea, and entertain her neighbours, or take a coach and\ngo abroad; but as to the business, she shall not stoop to touch it; he\nhas apprentices and journeymen, and there is no need of it.\nII. Some trades, indeed, are not proper for the women to meddle in, or\ncustom has made it so, that it would be ridiculous for the women to\nappear in their shops; that is, such as linen and woollen drapers,\nmercers, booksellers, goldsmiths, and all sorts of dealers by\ncommission, and the like--custom, I say, has made these trades so\neffectually shut out the women, that, what with custom, and the women's\ngenerally thinking it below them, we never, or rarely, see any women in\nthose shops or warehouses.\nIII. Or if the trade is proper, and the wife willing, the husband\ndeclines it, and shuts her out--and this is the thing I complain of as\nan unjustice upon the woman. But our tradesmen, forsooth, think it an\nundervaluing to them and to their business to have their wives seen in\ntheir shops--that is to say, that, because other trades do not admit\nthem, therefore they will not have their trades or shops thought less\nmasculine or less considerable than others, and they will not have their\nwives be seen in their shops.\nIV. But there are two sorts of husbands more who decline acquainting\ntheir wives with their business; and those are, (1.) Those who are\nunkind, haughty, and imperious, who will not trust their wives, because\nthey will not make them useful, that they may not value themselves upon\nit, and make themselves, as it were, equal to their husbands. A weak,\nfoolish, and absurd suggestion! as if the wife were at all exalted by\nit, which, indeed, is just the contrary, for the woman is rather humbled\nand made a servant by it: or, (2.) The other sort are those who are\nafraid their wives should be let into the grand secret of all--namely,\nto know that they are bankrupt, and undone, and worth nothing.\nAll these considerations are foolish or fraudulent, and in every one of\nthem the husband is in the wrong--nay, they all argue very strongly for\nthe wife's being, in a due degree, let into the knowledge of their\nbusiness; but the last, indeed, especially that she may be put into a\nposture to save him from ruin, if it be possible, or to carry on some\nbusiness without him, if he is forced to fail, and fly; as many have\nbeen, when the creditors have encouraged the wife to carry on a trade\nfor the support of her family and children, when he perhaps may never\nshow his head again.\nBut let the man's case be what it will, I think he can never call it a\nhard shift to let his wife into an acquaintance with his business, if\nshe desires it, and is fit for it; and especially in case of mortality,\nthat she may not be left helpless and friendless with her children when\nher husband is gone, and when, perhaps, her circumstances may require\nit.\nI am not for a man setting his wife at the head of his business, and\nplacing himself under her like a journeyman, like a certain\nchina-seller, not far from the East India House, who, if any customers\ncame into the shop that made a mean, sorry figure, would leave them to\nher husband to manage and attend them; but if they looked like quality,\nand people of fashion, would come up to her husband, when he was showing\nthem his goods, putting him by with a 'Hold your tongue, Tom, and let me\ntalk.' I say, it is not this kind, or part, that I would have the\ntradesman's wife let into, but such, and so much, of the trade only as\nmay be proper for her, not ridiculous, in the eye of the world, and may\nmake her assisting and helpful, not governing to him, and, which is the\nmain thing I am at, such as should qualify her to keep up the business\nfor herself and children, if her husband should be taken away, and she\nbe left destitute in the world, as many are.\nThus much, I think, it is hard a wife should not know, and no honest\ntradesman ought to refuse it; and above all, it is a great pity the\nwives of tradesmen, who so often are reduced to great inconvenience for\nwant of it, should so far withstand their own felicity, as to refuse to\nbe thus made acquainted with their business, by which weak and foolish\npride they expose themselves, as I have observed, to the misfortune of\nthrowing the business away, when they may come to want it, and when the\nkeeping it up might be the restoring of their family, and providing for\ntheir children.\nFor, not to compliment tradesmen too much, their wives are not all\nladies, nor are their children all born to be gentlemen. Trade, on the\ncontrary, is subject to contingencies; some begin poor, and end rich;\nothers, and those very many, begin rich, and end poor: and there are\ninnumerable circumstances which may attend a tradesman's family, which\nmay make it absolutely necessary to preserve the trade for his children,\nif possible; the doing which may keep them from misery, and raise them\nall in the world, and the want of it, on the other hand, sinks and\nsuppresses them. For example:--\nA tradesman has begun the world about six or seven years; he has, by his\nindustry and good understanding in business, just got into a flourishing\ntrade, by which he clears five or six hundred pounds a-year; and if it\nshould please God to spare his life for twenty years or more, he would\ncertainly be a rich man, and get a good estate; but on a sudden, and in\nthe middle of all his prosperity, he is snatched away by a sudden fit\nof sickness, and his widow is left in a desolate despairing condition,\nhaving five children, and big with another; but the eldest of these is\nnot above six years old, and, though he is a boy, yet he is utterly\nincapable to be concerned in the business; so the trade which (had his\nfather lived to bring him up in his shop or warehouse) would have been\nan estate to him, is like to be lost, and perhaps go all away to the\neldest apprentice, who, however, wants two years of his time. Now, what\nis to be done for this unhappy family?\n'Done!' says the widow; 'why, I will never let the trade fall so, that\nshould be the making of my son, and in the meantime be the maintenance\nof all my children.'\n'Why, what can you do, child?' says her father, or other friends; 'you\nknow nothing of it. Mr ---- did not acquaint you with his business.'\n'That is true,' says the widow; 'he did not, because I was a fool, and\ndid not care to look much into it, and that was my fault. Mr ---- did not\npress me to it, because he was afraid I might think he intended to put\nme upon it; but he often used to say, that if he should drop off before\nhis boys were fit to come into the shop, it would be a sad loss to\nthem--that the trade would make gentlemen of a couple of them, and it\nwould be great pity it should go away from them.'\n'But what does that signify now, child?' adds the father; 'you see it is\nso; and how can it be helped?'\n'Why,' says the widow, 'I used to ask him if he thought I could carry it\non for them, if such a thing should happen?'\n'And what answer did he make?' says the father.\n'He shook his head,' replied the widow, 'and answered, \"Yes, I might, if\nI had good servants, and if I would look a little into it beforehand.\"'\n'Why,' says the father, 'he talked as if he had foreseen his end.'\n'I think he did foresee it,' says she, 'for he was often talking thus.'\n'And why did you not take the hint then,' says her father, 'and acquaint\nyourself a little with things, that you might have been prepared for\nsuch an unhappy circumstance, whatever might happen?'\n'Why, so I did,' says the widow, 'and have done for above two years\npast; he used to show me his letters, and his books, and I know where he\nbought every thing; and I know a little of goods too, when they are\ngood, and when bad, and the prices; also I know all the country-people\nhe dealt with, and have seen most of them, and talked with them. Mr----\nused to bring them up to dinner sometimes, and he would prompt my being\nacquainted with them, and would sometimes talk of his business with them\nat table, on purpose that I might hear it; and I know a little how to\nsell, too, for I have stood by him sometimes, and seen the customers and\nhim chaffer with one another.'\n'And did your husband like that you did so?' says the father.\n'Yes,' says she, 'he loved to see me do it, and often told me he did so;\nand told me, that if he were dead, he believed I might carry on the\ntrade as well as he.'\n'But he did not believe so, I doubt,' says the father.\n'I do not know as to that, but I sold goods several times to some\ncustomers, when he has been out of the way.'\n'And was he pleased with it when he came home? Did you do it to his\nmind?'\n'Nay, I have served a customer sometimes when he has been in the\nwarehouse, and he would go away to his counting-house on purpose, and\nsay, \"I'll leave you and my wife to make the bargain,\" and I have\npleased the customer and him too.'\n'Well,' says the father, 'do you think you could carry on the trade?'\n'I believe I could, if I had but an honest fellow of a journeyman for a\nyear or two to write in the books, and go abroad among customers.'\n'Well, you have two apprentices; one of them begins to understand things\nvery much, and seems to be a diligent lad.'\n'He comes forward, indeed, and will be very useful, if he does not grow\ntoo forward, upon a supposition that I shall want him too much: but it\nwill be necessary to have a man to be above him for a while.'\n'Well,' says the father, 'we will see to get you such a one.'\nIn short, they got her a man to assist to keep the books, go to\nExchange, and do the business abroad, and the widow carried on the\nbusiness with great application and success, till her eldest son grew\nup, and was first taken into the shop as an apprentice to his mother;\nthe eldest apprentice served her faithfully, and was her journeyman four\nyears after his time was out; then she took him in partner to one-fourth\nof the trade, and when her son came of age, she gave the apprentice one\nof her daughters, and enlarged his share to a third, gave her own son\nanother third, and kept a third for herself to support the family.\nThus the whole trade was preserved, and the son and son-in-law grew rich\nin it, and the widow, who grew as skilful in the business as her husband\nwas before her, advanced the fortunes of all the rest of her children\nvery considerably.\nThis was an example of the husband's making the wife (but a little)\nacquainted with his business; and if this had not been the case, the\ntrade had been lost, and the family left just to divide what the father\nleft; which, as they were seven of them, mother and all, would not have\nbeen considerable enough to have raised them above just the degree of\nhaving bread to eat, and none to spare.\nI hardly need give any examples where tradesmen die, leaving nourishing\nbusinesses, and good trades, but leaving their wives ignorant and\ndestitute, neither understanding their business, nor knowing how to\nlearn, having been too proud to stoop to it when they had husbands, and\nnot courage or heart to do it when they have none. The town is so full\nof such as these, that this book can scarce fall into the hands of any\nreaders but who will be able to name them among their own acquaintance.\nThese indolent, lofty ladies have generally the mortification to see\ntheir husbands' trades catched up by apprentices or journeymen in the\nshop, or by other shopkeepers in the neighbourhood, and of the same\nbusiness, that might have enriched them, and descended to their\nchildren; to see their bread carried away by strangers, and other\nfamilies flourishing on the spoils of their fortunes.\nAnd this brings me to speak of those ladies, who, though they do,\nperhaps, for want of better offers, stoop to wed a trade, as we call it,\nand take up with a mechanic; yet all the while they are the tradesmen's\nwives, they endeavour to preserve the distinction of their fancied\ncharacter; carry themselves as if they thought they were still above\ntheir station, and that, though they were unhappily yoked with a\ntradesman, they would still keep up the dignity of their birth, and be\ncalled gentlewomen; and in order to this, would behave like such all the\nway, whatever rank they were levelled with by the misfortune of their\ncircumstances.\nThis is a very unhappy, and, indeed, a most unseasonable kind of pride;\nand if I might presume to add a word here by way of caution to such\nladies, it should be to consider, before they marry tradesmen, the great\ndisadvantages they lay themselves under, in submitting to be a\ntradesman's wife, but not putting themselves in a condition to take the\nbenefit, as well as the inconvenience of it; for while they are above\nthe circumstances of the tradesman's wife, they are deprived of all the\nremedy against the miseries of a tradesman's widow; and if the man dies,\nand leaves them little or nothing but the trade to carry on and maintain\nthem, they, being unacquainted with that, are undone.\nA lady that stoops to marry a tradesman, should consider the usage of\nEngland among the gentry and persons of distinction, where the case is\nthus: if a lady, who has a title of honour, suppose it be a countess, or\nif she were a duchess, it is all one--if, I say, she stoop to marry a\nprivate gentleman, she ceases to rank for the future as a countess, or\nduchess, but must be content to be, for the time to come, what her\nhusband can entitle her to, and no other; and, excepting the courtesy of\nthe people calling her my Lady Duchess, or the Countess, she is no more\nthan plain Mrs such a one, meaning the name of her husband, and no\nother.\nThus, if a baronet's widow marry a tradesman in London, she is no more\nmy lady, but plain Mrs----, the draper's wife, &c. The application of\nthe thing is thus: if the lady think fit to marry a mechanic, say a\nglover, or a cutler, or whatever it is, she should remember she is a\nglover's wife from that time, and no more; and to keep up her dignity,\nwhen fortune has levelled her circumstances, is but a piece of\nunseasonable pageantry, and will do her no service at all. The thing she\nis to inquire is, what she must do if Mr----, the glover, or cutler,\nshould die? whether she can carry on the trade afterwards, or whether\nshe can live without it? If she find she cannot live without it, it is\nher prudence to consider in time, and so to acquaint herself with the\ntrade, that she may be able to do it when she comes to it.\nI do confess, there is nothing more ridiculous than the double pride of\nthe ladies of this age, with respect to marrying what they call below\ntheir birth. Some ladies of good families, though but of mean fortune,\nare so stiff upon the point of honour, that they refuse to marry\ntradesmen, nay, even merchants, though vastly above them in wealth and\nfortune, only because they are tradesmen, or, as they are pleased to\ncall them, though improperly, mechanics; and though perhaps they have\nnot above \u00a3500 or \u00a31000 to their portion, scorn the man for his rank,\nwho does but turn round, and has his choice of wives, perhaps, with two,\nor three, or four thousand pounds, before their faces.\nThe gentlemen of quality, we see, act upon quite another foot, and, I\nmay say, with much more judgment, seeing nothing is more frequent than\nwhen any noble family are loaded with titles and honour rather than\nfortune, they come down into the city, and choose wives among the\nmerchants' and tradesmen's daughters to raise their families; and I am\nmistaken, if at this time we have not several duchesses, countesses, and\nladies of rank, who are the daughters of citizens and tradesmen, as the\nDuchess of Bedford, of A----e, of Wharton, and others; the Countess of\nExeter, of Onslow, and many more, too many to name, where it is thought\nno dishonour at all for those persons to have matched into rich\nfamilies, though not ennobled; and we have seen many trading families\nlay the foundation of nobility by their wealth and opulence--as Mr\nChild, for example, afterwards Sir Josiah Child, whose posterity by his\ntwo daughters are now Dukes of Beaufort and of Bedford, and his grandson\nLord Viscount Castlemain, and yet he himself began a tradesman, and in\ncircumstances very mean.\nBut this stiffness of the ladies, in refusing to marry tradesmen, though\nit is weak in itself, is not near so weak as the folly of those who\nfirst do stoop to marry thus, and yet think to maintain the dignity of\ntheir birth in spite of the meanness of their fortune, and so, carrying\nthemselves above that station in which Providence has placed them,\ndisable themselves from receiving the benefit which their condition\noffers them, upon any subsequent changes of their life.\nThis extraordinary stiffness, I have known, has brought many a\nwell-bred gentlewoman to misery and the utmost distress, whereas, had\nthey been able to have stooped to the subsequent circumstances of life,\nwhich Providence also thought fit to make their lot, they might have\nlived comfortably and plentifully all their days.\nIt is certainly every lady's prudence to bring her spirit down to her\ncondition; and if she thinks fit, or it is any how her lot to marry a\ntradesman, which many ladies of good families have found it for their\nadvantage to do--I say, if it be her lot, she should take care she does\nnot make that a curse to her, which would be her blessing, by despising\nher own condition, and putting herself into a posture not to enjoy it.\nIn all this, I am to be understood to mean that unhappy temper, which I\nfind so much among the tradesman's wives at this time, of being above\ntaking any notice of their husband's affairs, as if nothing were before\nthem but a constant settled state of prosperity, and it were impossible\nfor them to taste any other fortune; whereas, that very hour they embark\nwith a tradesman, they ought to remember that they are entering a state\nof life full of accidents and hazards, and that innumerable families, in\nas good circumstances as theirs, fall every day into disasters and\nmisfortunes, and that a tradesman's condition is liable to more\ncasualties than any other life whatever.\nHow many widows of tradesmen, nay, and wives of broken and ruined\ntradesmen, do we daily see recover themselves and their shattered\nfamilies, when the man has been either snatched away by death, or\ndemolished by misfortunes, and has been forced to fly to the East or\nWest Indies, and forsake his family in search of bread?\nWomen, when once they give themselves leave to stoop to their own\ncircumstances, and think fit to rouse up themselves to their own relief,\nare not so helpless and shiftless creatures as some would make them\nappear in the world; and we see whole families in trade frequently\nrecovered by their industry: but, then, they are such women as can stoop\nto it, and can lay aside the particular pride of their first years; and\nwho, without looking back to what they have been, can be content to look\ninto what Providence has brought them to be, and what they must\ninfallibly be, if they do not vigorously apply to the affairs which\noffer, and fall into the business which their husbands leave them the\nintroduction to, and do not level their minds to their condition. It\nmay, indeed, be hard to do this at first, but necessity is a spur to\nindustry, and will make things easy where they seem difficult; and this\nnecessity will humble the minds of those whom nothing else could make to\nstoop; and where it does not, it is a defect of the understanding, as\nwell as of prudence, and must reflect upon the senses as well as the\nmorals of the person.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[35] [Most of the wives of tradesmen above a certain rather humble\ncondition would now smile at the idea of their being expected to attend\ntheir husbands' shops, in order to form an intimate acquaintance with\ntheir affairs. Doubtless, however, in the days of Defoe, when the\ncapitals of tradesmen were less, when provision for widows by insurance\nupon lives was not practised, and when the comparative simplicity of the\nmodes of conducting business admitted it, a female in that situation\nwould only be exercising a prudent caution, and doing nothing in the\nleast inconsistent with the delicacy of her sex, in obeying the rules\nlaid down in the text.]\n[36] [The number of widows, or at least females, carrying on trade in\nEngland, is still very considerable. In Scotland, it is a comparatively\nrare case. A native of the northern part of the island is apt to be\nstrongly impressed with this fact, when, in the large manufacturing\ntowns of England, he sees female names in so many cases inscribed upon\nthe waggons used in the transport of goods. The complaint in the text,\nthat females have, to such an extent, ceased to carry on the business of\ntheir deceased husbands, is probably, like many other complaints of the\nsame kind already pointed out, merely a piece of querulousness on the\npart of our author, or the result of a very common mental deception.]\nCHAPTER XXII\nOF THE DIGNITY OF TRADE IN ENGLAND MORE THAN IN OTHER COUNTRIES\nIt is said of England, by way of distinction, and we all value ourselves\nupon it, that it is a trading country; and King Charles II., who was\nperhaps that prince of all the kings that ever reigned in England, that\nbest understood the country and the people that he governed, used to\nsay, 'That the tradesmen were the only gentry in England.' His majesty\nspoke it merrily, but it had a happy signification in it, such as was\npeculiar to the bright genius of that prince, who, though he was not the\nbest governor, was the best acquainted with the world of all the princes\nof his age, if not of all the men in it; and, though it be a digression,\ngive me leave, after having quoted the king, to add three short\nobservations of my own, in favour of England, and of the people and\ntrade of it, and yet without the least partiality to our own country.\nI. We are not only a trading country, but the greatest trading country\nin the world.\nII. Our climate is the most agreeable climate in the world to live in.\nIII. Our Englishmen are the stoutest and best men (I mean what we call\nmen of their hands) in the world.\nThese are great things to advance in our own favour, and yet to pretend\nnot to be partial too; and, therefore, I shall give my reasons, which I\nthink support my opinion, and they shall be as short as the heads\nthemselves, that I may not go too much off from my subject.\n1. We are the greatest trading country in the world, because we have the\ngreatest exportation of the growth and product of our land, and of the\nmanufacture and labour of our people; and the greatest importation and\nconsumption of the growth, product, and manufactures of other countries\nfrom abroad, of any nation in the world.[37]\n2. Our climate is the best and most agreeable, because a man can be more\nout of doors in England than in other countries. This was King Charles\nII.'s reason for it, and I cannot name it, without doing justice to his\nmajesty in it.\n3. Our men are the stoutest and best, because, strip them naked from the\nwaist upwards, and give them no weapons at all but their hands and\nheels, and turn them into a room, or stage, and lock them in with the\nlike number of other men of any nation, man for man, and they shall beat\nthe best men you shall find in the world.\nFrom this digression, which I hope will not be disagreeable, as it is\nnot very tedious, I come back to my first observation, that England is a\ntrading country, and two things I offer from that head.\nFirst, our tradesmen are not, as in other countries, the meanest of our\npeople.\nSecondly, some of the greatest and best, and most flourishing families,\namong not the gentry only, but even the nobility, have been raised from\ntrade, owe their beginning, their wealth, and their estates, to trade;\nand, I may add,\nThirdly, those families are not at all ashamed of their original, and,\nindeed, have no occasion to be ashamed of it.\nIt is true, that in England we have a numerous and an illustrious\nnobility and gentry; and it is true, also, that not so many of those\nfamilies have raised themselves by the sword as in other nations, though\nwe have not been without men of fame in the field too.\nBut trade and learning have been the two chief steps by which our\ngentlemen have raised their relations, and have built their fortunes;\nand from which they have ascended up to the prodigious height, both in\nwealth and number, which we see them now risen to.\nAs so many of our noble and wealthy families are raised by, and derive\nfrom trade, so it is true, and, indeed, it cannot well be otherwise,\nthat many of the younger branches of our gentry, and even of the\nnobility itself, have descended again into the spring from whence they\nflowed, and have become tradesmen; and thence it is, that, as I said\nabove, our tradesmen in England are not, as it generally is in other\ncountries, always of the meanest of our people.\nIndeed, I might have added here, that trade itself in England is not, as\nit generally is in other countries, the meanest thing the men can turn\ntheir hand to; but, on the contrary, trade is the readiest way for men\nto raise their fortunes and families; and, therefore, it is a field for\nmen of figure and of good families to enter upon.\nN.B. By trade we must be understood to include navigation, and foreign\ndiscoveries, because they are, generally speaking, all promoted and\ncarried on by trade, and even by tradesmen, as well as merchants; and\nthe tradesmen are at this time as much concerned in shipping (as owners)\nas the merchants; only the latter may be said to be the chief employers\nof the shipping.\nHaving thus done a particular piece of justice to ourselves, in the\nvalue we put upon trade and tradesmen in England, it reflects very much\nupon the understanding of those refined heads, who pretend to depreciate\nthat part of the nation, which is so infinitely superior in number and\nin wealth to the families who call themselves gentry, or quality, and so\ninfinitely more numerous.\nAs to the wealth of the nation, that undoubtedly lies chiefly among the\ntrading part of the people; and though there are a great many families\nraised within few years, in the late war, by great employments, and by\ngreat actions abroad, to the honour of the English gentry; yet how many\nmore families among the tradesmen have been raised to immense estates,\neven during the same time, by the attending circumstances of the war,\nsuch as the clothing, the paying, the victualling and furnishing, &c,\nboth army and navy! And by whom have the prodigious taxes been paid, the\nloans supplied, and money advanced upon all occasions? By whom are the\nbanks and companies carried on?--and on whom are the customs and excises\nlevied? Have not the trade and tradesmen born the burden of the\nwar?--and do they not still pay four millions a-year interest for the\npublic debts? On whom are the funds levied, and by whom the public\ncredit supported? Is not trade the inexhausted fund of all funds, and\nupon which all the rest depend?\nAs is the trade, so in proportion are the tradesmen; and how wealthy are\ntradesmen in almost all the several parts of England, as well as in\nLondon! How ordinary is it to see a tradesman go off the stage, even but\nfrom mere shopkeeping, with from ten to forty thousand pounds' estate,\nto divide among his family!--when, on the contrary, take the gentry in\nEngland from one end to the other, except a few here and there, what\nwith excessive high living, which is of late grown so much into a\ndisease, and the other ordinary circumstances of families, we find few\nfamilies of the lower gentry, that is to say, from six or seven hundred\na-year downwards, but they are in debt and in necessitous circumstances,\nand a great many of greater estates also.\nOn the other hand, let any one who is acquainted with England, look but\nabroad into the several counties, especially near London, or within\nfifty miles of it. How are the ancient families worn out by time and\nfamily misfortunes, and the estates possessed by a new race of\ntradesmen, grown up into families of gentry, and established by the\nimmense wealth, gained, as I may say, behind the counter, that is, in\nthe shop, the warehouse, and the counting-house! How are the sons of\ntradesmen ranked among the prime of the gentry! How are the daughters of\ntradesmen at this time adorned with the ducal coronets, and seen riding\nin the coaches of the best of our nobility! Nay, many of our trading\ngentlemen at this time refuse to be ennobled, scorn being knighted, and\ncontent themselves with being known to be rated among the richest\ncommoners in the nation. And it must be acknowledged, that, whatever\nthey be as to court-breeding and to manners, they, generally speaking,\ncome behind none of the gentry in knowledge of the world.\nAt this very day we see the son of Sir Thomas Scawen matched into the\nducal family of Bedford, and the son of Sir James Bateman into the\nprincely house of Marlborough, both whose ancestors, within the memory\nof the writer of these sheets, were tradesmen in London; the first Sir\nWilliam Scawen's apprentice, and the latter's grandfather a porter upon\nor near London Bridge.\nHow many noble seats, superior to the palaces of sovereign princes (in\nsome countries) do we see erected within few miles of this city by\ntradesmen, or the sons of tradesmen, while the seats and castles of the\nancient gentry, like their families, look worn out, and fallen into\ndecay. Witness the noble house of Sir John Eyles, himself a merchant, at\nGiddy-hall near Rumford; Sir Gregory Page on Blackheath, the son of a\nbrewer; Sir Nathaniel Mead near Wealgreen, his father a linen-draper,\nwith many others too long to repeat; and, to crown all, the Lord\nCastlemains at Wanstead, his father Sir Josiah Child, originally a\ntradesman.\nIt was a smart, but just repartee, of a London tradesman, when a\ngentleman, who had a good estate too, rudely reproached him in company,\nand bade him hold his tongue, for he was no gentleman. 'No, Sir,' says\nhe, 'but I can buy a gentleman, and therefore I claim a liberty to speak\namong gentlemen.'\nAgain, in how superior a port or figure (as we now call it) do our\ntradesmen live, to what the middling gentry either do or can support! An\nordinary tradesman now, not in the city only, but in the country, shall\nspend more money by the year, than a gentleman of four or five hundred\npounds a-year can do, and shall increase and lay up every year too,\nwhereas the gentleman shall at the best stand stock still, just where he\nbegan, nay, perhaps decline; and as for the lower gentry, from a hundred\npounds a-year to three hundred, or thereabouts, though they are often as\nproud and high in their appearance as the other--as to them, I say, a\nshoemaker in London shall keep a better house, spend more money, clothe\nhis family better, and yet grow rich too. It is evident where the\ndifference lies; _an estate's a pond, but a trade's a spring_: the\nfirst, if it keeps full, and the water wholesome, by the ordinary\nsupplies and drains from the neighbouring grounds, it is well, and it is\nall that is expected; but the other is an inexhausted current, which not\nonly fills the pond, and keeps it full, but is continually running over,\nand fills all the lower ponds and places about it.\nThis being the case in England, and our trade being so vastly great, it\nis no wonder that the tradesmen in England fill the lists of our\nnobility and gentry; no wonder that the gentlemen of the best families\nmarry tradesmen's daughters, and put their younger sons apprentices to\ntradesmen; and how often do these younger sons come to buy the elder\nson's estates, and restore the family, when the elder, and head of the\nhouse, proving rakish and extravagant, has wasted his patrimony, and is\nobliged to make out the blessing of Israel's family, where the younger\nson bought the birthright, and the elder was doomed to serve him.\nTrade is so far here from being inconsistent with a gentleman, that, in\nshort, trade in England makes gentlemen, and has peopled this nation\nwith gentlemen; for after a generation or two the tradesmen's children,\nor at least their grand-children, come to be as good gentlemen,\nstatesmen, parliament-men, privy-counsellors, judges, bishops, and\nnoblemen, as those of the highest birth and the most ancient families,\nand nothing too high for them. Thus the late Earl of Haversham was\noriginally a merchant; the late Secretary Craggs was the son of a\nbarber; the present Lord Castlemain's father was a tradesman; the\ngreat-grandfather of the present Duke of Bedford the same; and so of\nseveral others. Nor do we find any defect either in the genius or\ncapacities of the posterity of tradesmen, arising from any remains of\nmechanic blood, which it is pretended should influence them, but all the\ngallantry of spirit, greatness of soul, and all the generous principles,\nthat can be found in any of the ancient families, whose blood is the\nmost untainted, as they call it, with the low mixtures of a mechanic\nrace, are found in these; and, as is said before, they generally go\nbeyond them in knowledge of the world, which is the best education.\nWe see the tradesmen of England, as they grow wealthy, coming every day\nto the Herald's Office, to search for the coats-of-arms of their\nancestors, in order to paint them upon their coaches, and engrave them\nupon their plate, embroider them upon their furniture, or carve them\nupon the pediments of their new houses; and how often do we see them\ntrace the registers of their families up to the prime nobility, or the\nmost ancient gentry of the kingdom!\nIn this search we find them often qualified to raise new families, if\nthey do not descend from old; as was said of a certain tradesman of\nLondon that if he could not find the ancient race of gentlemen from\nwhich he came, he would begin a new race, who should be as good\ngentlemen as any that went before them. They tell us a story of the old\nLord Craven, who was afterwards created Earl of Craven by King Charles\nII., that, being upbraided with his being of an upstart nobility, by the\nfamous Aubery, Earl of Oxford, who was himself of the very ancient\nfamily of the Veres, Earls of Oxford, the Lord Craven told him, he\n(Craven) would cap pedigrees with him (Oxford) for a wager. The Earl of\nOxford laughed at the challenge, and began reckoning up his famous\nancestors, who had been Earls of Oxford for a hundred years past, and\nknights for some hundreds of years more; but when my Lord Craven began,\nhe read over his family thus:--'I am William Lord Craven; my father was\nLord Mayor of London, and my grandfather was the Lord knows who;\nwherefore I think my pedigree as good as yours, my lord.' The story was\nmerry enough, but is to my purpose exactly; for let the grandfather be\nwho he would, his father, Sir William Craven, who was Lord Mayor of\nLondon, was a wholesale grocer, and raised the family by trade, and yet\nnobody doubts but that the family of Craven is at this day as truly\nnoble, in all the beauties which adorn noble birth and blood, as can be\ndesired of any family, however ancient, or anciently noble.\nIn Italy, and especially at Venice, we see every day the sons of\nmerchants, and other trades, who grow in wealth and estates, and can\nadvance for the service of their country a considerable sum of money,\nnamely, 60,000 to 100,000 dollars, are accepted to honour by the senate,\nand translated into the list of the nobility, without any regard to the\nantiquities of their families, or the nobility of blood; and in all ages\nthe best kings and sovereign princes have thought fit to reward the\nextraordinary merit of their subjects with titles of honour, and to rank\nmen among their nobility, who have deserved it by good and great\nactions, whether their birth and the antiquity of their families\nentitled them to it or not.\nThus in the late wars between England and France, how was our army full\nof excellent officers, who went from the shop, and from behind the\ncounter, into the camp, and who distinguished themselves there by their\nmerit and gallant behaviour. And several such came to command regiments,\nand even to be general officers, and to gain as much reputation in the\nservice as any; as Colonel Pierce, Wood, Richards, and several others\nthat might be named.\nAll this confirms what I have said before, namely, that trade in England\nneither is nor ought to be levelled with what it is in other countries;\nnor the tradesmen depreciated as they are abroad, and as some of our\ngentry would pretend to do in England; but that, as many of our best\nfamilies rose from trade, so many branches of the best families in\nEngland, under the nobility, have stooped so low as to be put\napprentices to tradesmen in London, and to set up and follow those\ntrades when they have come out of their times, and have thought it no\ndishonour to their blood.\nTo bring this once more home to the ladies, who are so scandalised at\nthat mean step, which they call it, of marrying a tradesman--it may be\ntold them for their humiliation, that, however they think fit to act,\nsometimes those tradesmen come of better families than their own; and\noftentimes, when they have refused them to their loss, those very\ntradesmen have married ladies of superior fortune to them, and have\nraised families of their own, who in one generation have been superior\nto those nice ladies both in dignity and estate, and have, to their\ngreat mortification, been ranked above them upon all public occasions.\nThe word tradesman in England does not sound so harsh as it does in\nother countries; and to say _a gentleman-tradesman_, is not so much\nnonsense as some people would persuade us to reckon it: and, indeed, as\ntrade is now flourishing in England, and increasing, and the wealth of\nour tradesmen is already so great, it is very probable a few years will\nshow us still a greater race of trade-bred gentlemen, than ever England\nyet had.\nThe very name of an English tradesman will, and does already obtain in\nthe world; and as our soldiers by the late war gained the reputation of\nbeing some of the best troops in the world, and our seamen are at this\nday, and very justly too, esteemed the best sailors in the world, so the\nEnglish tradesmen may in a few years be allowed to rank with the best\ngentlemen in Europe; and as the prophet Isaiah said of the merchants of\nTyre, that 'her traffickers were the honourable of the earth,' (Isaiah,\nxxiii. 8.)\nIn the meantime, it is evident their wealth at this time out-does that\nof the like rank of any nation in Europe; and as their number is\nprodigious, so is their commerce; for the inland commerce of\nEngland--and it is of those tradesmen, or traffickers, that I am now\nspeaking in particular--is certainly the greatest of its kind of any in\nthe world; nor is it possible there should ever be any like it, the\nconsumption of all sorts of goods, both of our own manufacture, and of\nforeign growth, being so exceeding great.\nIf the English nation were to be nearly inquired into, and its present\nopulence and greatness duly weighed, it would appear, that, as the\nfigure it now makes in Europe is greater than it ever made before--take\nit either in King Edward III.'s reign, or in Queen Elizabeth's, which\nwere the two chief points of time when the English fame was in its\nhighest extent--I say, if its present greatness were to be duly weighed,\nthere is no comparison in its wealth, the number of its people, the\nvalue of its lands, the greatness of the estates of its private\ninhabitants; and, in consequence of all this, its real strength is\ninfinitely beyond whatever it was before, and if it were needful, I\ncould fill up this work with a very agreeable and useful inquiry into\nthe particulars.\nBut I content myself with turning it to the case in hand, for the truth\nof fact is not to be disputed--I say, I turn it to the case in hand\nthus: whence comes it to be so?--how is it produced? War has not done\nit; no, nor so much as helped or assisted to it; it is not by any\nmartial exploits; we have made no conquests abroad, added no new\nkingdoms to the British empire, reduced no neighbouring nations, or\nextended the possession of our monarchs into the properties of others;\nwe have grained nothing by war and encroachment; we are butted and\nbounded just where we were in Queen Elizabeth's time; the Dutch, the\nFlemings, the French, are in view of us just as they were then. We have\nsubjected no new provinces or people to our government; and, with few or\nno exceptions, we are almost for dominion where King Edward I. left us;\nnay, we have lost all the dominions which our ancient kings for some\nhundreds of years held in France--such as the rich and powerful\nprovinces of Normandy, Poictou, Gascoigne, Bretagne, and Acquitaine; and\ninstead of being enriched by war and victory, on the contrary we have\nbeen torn in pieces by civil wars and rebellions, as well in Ireland as\nin England, and that several times, to the ruin of our richest families,\nand the slaughter of our nobility and gentry, nay, to the destruction\neven of monarchy itself, and this many years at a time, as in the long\nbloody wars between the houses of Lancaster and York, the many\nrebellions of the Irish, as well in Queen Elizabeth's time, as in King\nCharles I.'s time, and the fatal massacre, and almost extirpation of the\nEnglish name in that kingdom; and at last, the late rebellion in\nEngland, in which the monarch fell a sacrifice to the fury of the\npeople, and monarchy itself gave way to tyranny and usurpation, for\nalmost twenty years.\nThese things prove abundantly that the rising greatness of the British\nnation is not owing to war and conquests, to enlarging its dominion by\nthe sword, or subjecting the people of other countries to our power; but\nit is all owing to trade, to the increase of our commerce at home, and\nthe extending it abroad.\nIt is owing to trade, that new discoveries have been made in lands\nunknown, and new settlements and plantations made, new colonies placed,\nand new governments formed in the uninhabited islands, and the\nuncultivated continent of America; and those plantings and settlements\nhave again enlarged and increased the trade, and thereby the wealth and\npower of the nation by whom they were discovered and planted. We have\nnot increased our power, or the number of our subjects, by subduing the\nnations which possessed those countries, and incorporating them into our\nown, but have entirely planted our colonies, and peopled the countries\nwith our own subjects, natives of this island; and, excepting the\nnegroes, which we transport from Africa to America, as slaves to work in\nthe sugar and tobacco plantations, all our colonies, as well in the\nislands as on the continent of America, are entirely peopled from Great\nBritain and Ireland, and chiefly the former; the natives having either\nremoved farther up into the country, or by their own folly and\ntreachery raising war against us, been destroyed and cut off.\nAs trade alone has peopled those countries, so trading with them has\nraised them also to a prodigy of wealth and opulence; and we see now the\nordinary planters at Jamaica and Barbadoes rise to immense estates,\nriding in their coaches and six, especially at Jamaica, with twenty or\nthirty negroes on foot running before them whenever they please to\nappear in public.\nAs trade has thus extended our colonies abroad, so it has, except those\ncolonies, kept our people at home, where they are multiplied to that\nprodigious degree, and do still continue to multiply in such a manner,\nthat if it goes on so, time may come that all the lands in England will\ndo little more than serve for gardens for them, and to feed their cows;\nand their corn and cattle be supplied from Scotland and Ireland.\nWhat is the reason that we see numbers of French, and of Scots, and of\nGermans, in all the foreign nations in Europe, and especially filling up\ntheir armies and courts, and that you see few or no English there?\nWhat is the reason, that when we want to raise armies, or to man navies\nin England, we are obliged to press the seamen, and to make laws and\nempower the justices of the peace, and magistrates of towns, to force\nmen to go for soldiers, and enter into the service, or allure them by\ngiving bounty-money, as an encouragement to men to list\nthemselves?--whereas the people of other nations, and even the Scots and\nIrish, travel abroad, and run into all the neighbour nations, to seek\nservice, and to be admitted into their pay.\nWhat is it but trade?--the increase of business at home, and the\nemployment of the poor in the business and manufactures of this kingdom,\nby which the poor get so good wages, and live so well, that they will\nnot list for soldiers; and have so good pay in the merchants' service,\nthat they will not serve on board the ships of war, unless they are\nforced to do it?\nWhat is the reason, that, in order to supply our colonies and\nplantations with people, besides the encouragement given in those\ncolonies to all people that will come there to plant and to settle, we\nare obliged to send away thither all our petty offenders, and all the\ncriminals that we think fit to spare from the gallows, besides what we\nformerly called the kidnapping trade?--that is to say, the arts made use\nof to wheedle and draw away young vagrant and indigent people, and\npeople of desperate fortunes, to sell themselves--that is, bind\nthemselves for servants, the numbers of which are very great.\nIt is poverty fills armies, mans navies, and peoples colonies. In vain\nthe drums beat for soldiers, and the king's captains invite seamen to\nserve in the armies for fivepence a-day, and in the royal navy for\ntwenty-three shillings per month, in a country where the ordinary\nlabourer can have nine shillings a-week for his labour, and the\nmanufacturers earn from twelve to sixteen shillings a-week for their\nwork, and while trade gives thirty shillings per month wages to the\nseamen on board merchant ships. Men will always stay or go, as the pay\ngives them encouragement; and this is the reason why it has been so much\nmore difficult to raise and recruit armies in England, than it has been\nin Scotland and Ireland, France and Germany.\nThe same trade that keeps our people at home, is the cause of the well\nliving of the people here; for as frugality is not the national virtue\nof England, so the people that get much spend much; and as they work\nhard, so they live well, eat and drink well, clothe warm, and lodge\nsoft--in a word, the working manufacturing people of England eat the\nfat, and drink the sweet, live better, and fare better, than the working\npoor of any other nation in Europe; they make better wages of their\nwork, and spend more of the money upon their backs and bellies, than in\nany other country. This expense of the poor, as it causes a prodigious\nconsumption both of the provisions, and of the manufactures of our\ncountry at home, so two things are undeniably the consequence of that\npart.\n1. The consumption of provisions increases the rent and value of the\nlands, and this raises the gentlemen's estates, and that again increases\nthe employment of people, and consequently the numbers of them, as well\nthose who are employed in the husbandry of land, breeding and feeding of\ncattle, &c, as of servants in the gentlemen's families, who, as their\nestates increase in value, so they increase their families and\nequipages.\n2. As the people get greater wages, so they, I mean the same poorer part\nof the people, clothe better, and furnish better, and this increases the\nconsumption of the very manufactures they make; then that consumption\nincreases the quantity made, and this creates what we call inland trade,\nby which innumerable families are employed, and the increase of the\npeople maintained, and by which increase of trade and people the present\ngrowing prosperity of this nation is produced.\nThe whole glory and greatness of England, then, being thus raised by\ntrade, it must be unaccountable folly and ignorance in us to lessen that\none article in our own esteem, which is the only fountain from whence we\nall, take us as a nation, are raised, and by which we are enriched and\nmaintained. The Scripture says, speaking of the riches and glory of the\ncity of Tyre--which was, indeed, at that time, the great port or\nemporium of the world for foreign commerce, from whence all the silks\nand fine manufactures of Persia and India were exported all over the\nwestern world--'That her merchants were princes;' and, in another place,\n'By thy traffic thou hast increased thy riches.' (Ezek. xxviii. 5.)\nCertain it is, that our traffic has increased our riches; and it is also\ncertain, that the flourishing of our manufactures is the foundation of\nall our traffic, as well our merchandise as our inland trade.\nThe inland trade of England is a thing not easily described; it would,\nin a word, take up a whole book by itself; it is the foundation of all\nour wealth and greatness; it is the support of all our foreign trade,\nand of our manufacturing, and, as I have hitherto written, of the\ntradesmen who carry it on. I shall proceed with a brief discourse of the\ntrade itself.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[37] [We have here a pleasing trait of the superior sagacity of Defoe,\nin as far as it was a prevalent notion down to his time, and even later\n(nor is it, perhaps, altogether extinguished yet), that the prosperity\nof a country was marked by its excess of exports over imports. Defoe\njustly ranks the amount of importation on a level with that of\nexportation, as indicative of the well-being of the country.]\nCHAPTER XXIII\nOF THE INLAND TRADE OF ENGLAND, ITS MAGNITUDE, AND THE GREAT ADVANTAGE\nIT IS TO THE NATION IN GENERAL\nI have, in a few words, described what I mean by the inland trade of\nEngland, in the introduction to this work. It is the circulation of\ncommerce among ourselves.\nI. For the carrying on our manufactures of several kinds in the several\ncounties where they are made, and the employing the several sorts of\npeople and trades needful for the said manufactures.\nII. For the raising and vending provisions of all kinds for the supply\nof the vast numbers of people who are employed every where by the said\nmanufactures.\nIII. For the importing and bringing in from abroad all kinds of foreign\ngrowth and manufactures which we want.\nIV. For the carrying about and dispersing, as well our own growth and\nmanufactures as the foreign imported growth and manufactures of other\nnations, to the retailer, and by them to the last consumer, which is the\nutmost end of all trade; and this, in every part, to the utmost corner\nof the island of Great Britain and Ireland.\nThis I call inland trade, and these circulators of goods, and retailers\nof them to the last consumer, are those whom we are to understand by the\nword tradesmen, in all the parts of this work; for (as I observed in the\nbeginning) the ploughmen and farmers who labour at home, and the\nmerchant who imports our merchandise from abroad, are not at all meant\nor included, and whatever I have been saying, except where they have\nbeen mentioned in particular, and at length.\nThis inland trade is in itself at this time the wonder of all the world\nof trade, nor is there any thing like it now in the world, much less\nthat exceeds it, or perhaps ever will be, except only what itself may\ngrow up to in the ages to come; for, as I have said on all occasions, it\nis still growing and increasing.\nBy this prodigy of a trade, all the vast importation from our own\ncolonies is circulated and dispersed to the remotest corner of the\nisland, whereby the consumption is become so great, and by which those\ncolonies are so increased, and are become so populous and so wealthy as\nI have already observed of them. This importation consists chiefly of\nsugars and tobacco, of which the consumption in Great Britain is\nscarcely to be conceived of, besides the consumption of cotton, indigo,\nrice, ginger, pimento or Jamaica pepper, cocoa or chocolate, rum and\nmolasses, train-oil, salt-fish, whale-fin, all sorts of furs, abundance\nof valuable drugs, pitch, tar, turpentine, deals, masts, and timber, and\nmany other things of smaller value; all which, besides the employing a\nvery great number of ships and English seamen, occasion again a very\ngreat exportation of our own manufactures of all sorts to those\ncolonies; which being circulated again for consumption there, that\ncirculation is to be accounted a branch of home or inland trade, as\nthose colonies are on all such occasions esteemed as a branch of part of\nourselves, and of the British government in the world.\nThis trade to our West Indies and American colonies, is very\nconsiderable, as it employs so many ships and sailors, and so much of\nthe growth of those colonies is again exported by us to other parts of\nthe world, over and above what is consumed among us at home; and, also,\nas all those goods, and a great deal of money in specie, is returned\nhither for and in balance of our own manufactures and merchandises\nexported thither--on these accounts some have insisted that more real\nwealth is brought into Great Britain every year from those colonies,\nthan is brought from the Spanish West Indies to old Spain,\nnotwithstanding the extent of their dominion is above twenty times as\nmuch, and notwithstanding the vast quantity of gold and silver which\nthey bring from the mines of Mexico, and the mountains of Potosi.[38]\nWhether these people say true or no, is not my business to inquire here;\nthough, if I may give my opinion, I must acknowledge that I believe they\ndo; but be it so or not, it is certain that it is an infinitely extended\ntrade, and daily increasing; and much of it, if not all, is and ought to\nbe esteemed as an inland trade, because, as above, it is a circulation\namong ourselves.\nAs the manufactures of England, particularly those of wool (cotton wool\nincluded), and of silk, are the greatest, and amount to the greatest\nvalue of any single manufacture in Europe,[39] so they not only employ\nmore people, but those people gain the most money, that is to say, have\nthe best wages for their work of any people in the world; and yet, which\nis peculiar to England, the English manufactures are, allowing for their\ngoodness, the cheapest at market of any in the world, too. Even France\nitself, after all the pains they are at to get our wool, and all the\nexpense they have been at to imitate our manufactures, by getting over\nour workmen, and giving them even greater wages than they had here, have\nyet made so little proficiency in it, and are so far from outselling us\nin foreign markets, that they still, in spite of the strictest\nprohibitions, send hither, and to Holland and Germany, for English\nbroad-cloths, druggets, duroys, flannels, serges, and several other\nsorts of our goods, to supply their own. Nor can they clothe themselves\nto their satisfaction with their own goods; but if any French gentleman\nof quality comes over hither from France, he is sure to bring no more\ncoats with him than backs, but immediately to make him new clothes as\nsoon as he arrives, and to carry as many new suits home with him at his\nreturn, as he can get leave to bring ashore when he comes there--a\ndemonstration that our manufacture exceeds theirs, after all their\nboasts of it, both in goodness and in cheapness, even by their own\nconfession. But I am not now to enter upon the particular manufactures,\nbut the general trade in the manufacture; this particular being a trade\nof such a magnitude, it is to be observed for our purpose, that the\ngreatness of it consists of two parts:--\n1. The consumption of it at home, including our own plantations and\nfactories.\n2. The exportation of it to foreign parts, exclusive of the said\nplantations and factories.\nIt is the first of these which is the subject of my present discourse,\nbecause the tradesmen to whom, and for whose instruction these chapters\nare designed, are the people principally concerned in the making all\nthese manufactures, and wholly and solely concerned in dispersing and\ncirculating them for the home consumption; and this, with some\nadditions, as explained above, I call _inland trade_.\nThe home-consumption of our own goods, as it is very great, so it has\none particular circumstance attending it, which exceedingly increases it\nas a trade, and that is, that besides the numbers of people which it\nemploys in the raising the materials, and making the goods themselves as\na manufacture--I say, besides all this, there are multitudes of people\nemployed, cattle maintained, with waggons and carts for the service on\nshore, barges and boats for carriage in the rivers, and ships and barks\nfor carrying by sea, and all for the circulating these manufactures from\none place to another, for the consumption of them among the people.\nSo that, in short, the circulation of the goods is a business not equal,\nindeed, but bearing a very great proportion to the trade itself.\nThis is owing to another particular circumstance of our manufacture, and\nperhaps is not so remarkably the case of any other manufacture or\ncountry in Europe, namely, that though all our manufactures are used\nand called for by almost all the people, and that in every part of the\nwhole British dominion, yet they are made and wrought in their several\ndistinct and respective countries in Britain, and some of them at the\nremotest distance from one another, hardly any two manufactures being\nmade in one place. For example:\nThe broad-cloth and druggets in Wilts, Gloucester, and Worcestershire;\nserges in Devon and Somersetshire; narrow-cloths in Yorkshire and\nStaffordshire; kerseys, cottons, half-thicks, duffields, plains, and\ncoarser things, in Lancashire and Westmoreland; shalloons in the\ncounties of Northampton, Berks, Oxford, Southampton, and York;\nwomen's-stuffs in Norfolk; linsey-woolseys, &c, at Kidderminster;\ndimmeties and cotton-wares at Manchester; flannels at Salisbury, and in\nWales; tammeys at Coventry; and the like. It is the same, in some\nrespects, with our provisions, especially for the supply of the city of\nLondon, and also of several other parts: for example, when I speak of\nprovisions, I mean such as are not made use of in the county where they\nare made and produced. For example:\nButter, in firkins, in Suffolk and Yorkshire; cheese from Cheshire,\nWiltshire, Warwickshire, and Gloucestershire; herrings, cured red, from\nYarmouth in Norfolk; coals, for fuel, from Northumberland and Durham;\nmalt from the counties of Hertford, Essex, Kent, Bucks, Oxford, Berks,\nAnd thus of many other things which are the proper produce of one part\nof the country only, but are from thence dispersed for the ordinary use\nof the people into many, or perhaps into all the other counties of\nEngland, to the infinite advantage of our inland commerce, and employing\na vast number of people and cattle; and consequently those people and\ncattle increasing the consumption of provisions and forage, and the\nimprovement of lands; so true it is, and so visible, that trade\nincreases people, and people increase trade.\nThis carriage of goods in England from those places is chiefly managed\nby horses and waggons; the number of which is not to be guessed at, nor\nis there any rule or art that can be thought of, by which any just\ncalculation can be made of it, and therefore I shall not enter upon any\nparticular of it at this time; it is sufficient to say, what I believe\nto be true, namely, that it is equal to the whole trade of some nations,\nand the rather because of the great improvement of land, which proceeds\nfrom the employing so many thousands of horses as are furnished for this\npart of business.\nIn other countries, and indeed, in most countries in Europe, all their\ninland trade, such as it is, is carried on by the convenience of\nnavigation, either by coastings on the sea, or by river-navigation. It\nis true, our coasting trade is exceedingly great, and employs a\nprodigious number of ships, as well from all the shores of England to\nLondon, as from one port to another.\nBut as to our river-navigation, it is not equal to it, though in some\nplaces it is very great too; but we have but a very few navigable rivers\nin England, compared with those of other countries; nor are many of\nthose rivers we have navigable to any considerable length from the sea.\nThe most considerable rivers in England for navigation are as\nfollows:--The Thames, the Trent, the Severn, the Wye, the Ouse, the\nHumber, the Air, and the Calder. These are navigable a considerable way,\nand receive several other navigable rivers into them; but except these\nthere are very few rivers in England which are navigable much above the\nfirst town of note within their mouth.\nMost of our other greatest and most navigable rivers are navigable but a\nvery little way in; as the northern Ouse but to York, the Orwell but to\nIpswich, the Yare but to Norwich; the Tyne itself but a very little\nabove Newcastle, not in all above twelve miles; the Tweed not at all\nabove Berwick; the great Avon but to Bristol; the Exe but to Exeter; and\nthe Dee but to Chester: in a word, our river-navigation is not to be\nnamed for carriage, with the vast bulk of carriage by pack-horses and by\nwaggons; nor must the carriage by pedlars on their backs be omitted.[40]\nThis carriage is the medium of our inland trade, and, as I said, is a\nbranch of the trade itself. This great carriage is occasioned by the\nsituation of our produce and manufactures. For example--the Taunton and\nExeter serges, perpetuanas, and duroys, come chiefly by land; the\nclothing, such as the broad-cloth and druggets from Wilts, Gloucester,\nWorcester, and Shropshire, comes all by land-carriage to London, and\ngoes down again by land-carriages to all parts of England; the Yorkshire\nclothing trade, the Manchester and Coventry trades, all by land, not to\nLondon only, but to all parts of England, by horse-packs--the Manchester\nmen being, saving their wealth, a kind of pedlars, who carry their goods\nthemselves to the country shopkeepers every where, as do now the\nYorkshire and Coventry manufacturers also.\nNow, in all these manufactures, however remote from one another, every\ntown in England uses something, not only of one or other, but of all the\nrest. Every sort of goods is wanted every where; and where they make one\nsort of goods, and sell them all over England, they at the same time\nwant other goods from almost every other part. For example:\nNorwich makes chiefly woollen stuffs and camblets, and these are sold\nall over England; but then Norwich buys broad-cloth from Wilts and\nWorcestershire, serges and sagathies from Devon and Somersetshire,\nnarrow cloth from Yorkshire, flannel from Wales, coal from Newcastle,\nand the like; and so it is, _mutatis mutandis_, of most of the other\nparts.\nThe circulating of these goods in this manner, is the life of our inland\ntrade, and increases the numbers of our people, by keeping them employed\nat home; and, indeed, of late they are prodigiously multiplied; and they\nagain increase our trade, as shall be mentioned in its place.\nAs the demand for all sorts of English goods is thus great, and they are\nthus extended in every part of the island, so the tradesmen are\ndispersed and spread over every part also; that is to say, in every\ntown, great or little, we find shopkeepers, wholesale or retail, who are\nconcerned in this circulation, and hand forward the goods to the last\nconsumer. From London, the goods go chiefly to the great towns, and from\nthose again to the smaller markets, and from those to the meanest\nvillages; so that all the manufactures of England, and most of them also\nof foreign countries, are to be found in the meanest village, and in the\nremotest corner of the whole island of Britain, and are to be bought, as\nit were, at every body's door.\nThis shows not the extent of our manufactures only, but the usefulness\nof them, and how they are so necessary to mankind that our own people\ncannot be without them, and every sort of them, and cannot make one\nthing serve for another; but as they sell their own, so they buy from\nothers, and every body here trades with every body: this it is that\ngives the whole manufacture so universal a circulation, and makes it so\nimmensely great in England. What it is abroad, is not so much to our\npresent purpose.\nAgain, the magnitude of the city of London adds very considerably to the\ngreatness of the inland trade; for as this city is the centre of our\ntrade, so all the manufactures are brought hither, and from hence\ncirculated again to all the country, as they are particularly called\nfor. But that is not all; the magnitude of the city influences the whole\nnation also in the article of provisions, and something is raised in\nevery county in England, however remote, for the supply of London; nay,\nall the best of every produce is brought hither; so that all the people,\nand all the lands in England, seem to be at work for, or employed by, or\non the account of, this overgrown city.\nThis makes the trade increase prodigiously, even as the city itself\nincreases; and we all know the city is very greatly increased within few\nyears past. Again, as the whole nation is employed to feed and clothe\nthis city, so here is the money, by which all the people in the whole\nnation seem to be supported and maintained.\nI have endeavoured to make some calculation of the number of shopkeepers\nin this kingdom, but I find it is not to be done--we may as well count\nthe stars; not that they are equal in number neither, but it is as\nimpossible, unless any one person corresponded so as to have them\nnumbered in every town or parish throughout the kingdom. I doubt not\nthey are some hundreds of thousands, but there is no making an\nestimate--the number is in a manner infinite. It is as impossible\nlikewise to make any guess at the bulk of their trade, and how much they\nreturn yearly; nor, if we could, would it give any foundation for any\njust calculation of the value of goods in general, because all our goods\ncirculate so much, and go so often through so many hands before they\ncome to the consumer. This so often passing every sort of goods through\nso many hands, before it comes into the hands of the last consumer, is\nthat which makes our trade be so immensely great. For example, if there\nis made in England for our home-consumption the value of \u00a3100,000 worth\nof any particular goods, say, for example, that it be so many pieces of\nserge or cloth, and if this goes through ten tradesmen's hands, before\nit comes to the last consumer, then there is \u00a31,000,000 returned in\ntrade for that \u00a3100,000 worth of goods; and so of all the sorts of goods\nwe trade in.\nAgain, as I said above, all our manufactures are so useful to, and\ndepend on, one another so much in trade, that the sale of one\nnecessarily causes the demand of the other in all parts. For example,\nsuppose the poorest countryman wants to be clothed, or suppose it be a\ngentleman wants to clothe one of his servants, whether a footman in a\nlivery, or suppose it be any servant in ordinary apparel, yet he shall\nin some part employ almost every one of the manufacturing counties of\nEngland, for making up one ordinary suit of clothes. For example:\nIf his coat be of woollen-cloth, he has that from Yorkshire; the lining\nis shalloon from Berkshire; the waistcoat is of callamanco from Norwich;\nthe breeches of a strong drugget from Devizes, Wiltshire; the stockings\nbeing of yarn from Westmoreland; the hat is a felt from Leicester; the\ngloves of leather from Somersetshire; the shoes from Northampton; the\nbuttons from Macclesfield in Cheshire, or, if they are of metal, they\ncome from Birmingham, or Warwickshire; his garters from Manchester; his\nshirt of home-made linen of Lancashire, or Scotland.\nIf it be thus of every poor man's clothing, or of a servant, what must\nit be of the master, and of the rest of the family? And in this\nparticular the case is the same, let the family live where they will; so\nthat all these manufactures must be found in all the remotest towns and\ncounties in England, be it where you will.\nAgain, take the furnishing of our houses, it is the same in proportion,\nand according to the figure and quality of the person. Suppose, then, it\nbe a middling tradesman that is going to live in some market-town, and\nto open his shop there; suppose him not to deal in the manufacture, but\nin groceries, and such sort of wares as the country grocers sell.\nThis man, however, must clothe himself and his wife, and must furnish\nhis house: let us see, then, to how many counties and towns, among our\nmanufactures, must he send for his needful supply. Nor is the quantity\nconcerned in it; let him furnish himself as frugally as he pleases, yet\nhe must have something of every necessary thing; and we will suppose for\nthe present purpose the man lived in Sussex, where very few, if any,\nmanufactures are carried on; suppose he lived at Horsham, which is a\nmarket-town in or near the middle of the county.\nFor his clothing of himself--for we must allow him to have a new suit of\nclothes when he begins the world--take them to be just as above; for as\nto the quality or quantity, it is much the same; only, that instead of\nbuying the cloth from Yorkshire, perhaps he has it a little finer than\nthe poor man above, and so his comes out of Wiltshire, and his stockings\nare, it may be, of worsted, not of yarn, and so they come from\nNottingham, not Westmoreland; but this does not at all alter the case.\nCome we next to his wife; and she being a good honest townsman's\ndaughter, is not dressed over fine, yet she must have something decent,\nbeing newly married too, especially as times go, when the burghers'\nwives of Horsham, or any other town, go as fine as they do in other\nplaces: allow her, then, to have a silk gown, with all the necessaries\nbelonging to a middling tolerable appearance, yet you shall find all the\nnation more or less concerned in clothing this country grocer's wife,\nand furnishing his house, and yet nothing at all extravagant. For\nexample:\nHer gown, a plain English mantua-silk, manufactured in Spitalfields; her\npetticoat the same; her binding, a piece of chequered-stuff, made at\nBristol and Norwich; her under-petticoat, a piece of black callamanco,\nmade at Norwith--quilted at home, if she be a good housewife, but the\nquilting of cotton from Manchester, or cotton-wool from abroad; her\ninner-petticoats, flannel and swanskin, from Salisbury and Wales; her\nstockings from Tewksbury, if ordinary, from Leicester, if woven; her\nlace and edgings from Stony Stratford the first, and Great Marlow the\nlast; her muslin from foreign trade, as likewise her linen, being\nsomething finer than the man's, may perhaps be a guilick-Holland; her\nwrapper, or morning-gown, a piece of Irish linen, printed at London; her\nblack hood, a thin English lustring; her gloves, lamb's-skin, from\nBerwick and Northumberland, or Scotland; her ribands, being but very\nfew, from Coventry, or London; her riding-hood, of English\nworsted-camblet, made at Norwich.\nCome next to the furniture of their house. It is scarce credible, to how\nmany counties of England, and how remote, the furniture of but a mean\nhouse must send them, and how many people are every where employed\nabout it; nay, and the meaner the furniture, the more people and places\nemployed. For example:\nThe hangings, suppose them to be ordinary linsey-woolsey, are made at\nKidderminster, dyed in the country, and painted, or watered, at London;\nthe chairs, if of cane, are made at London; the ordinary matted chairs,\nperhaps in the place where they live; tables, chests of drawers, &c.,\nmade at London; as also looking-glass; bedding, &c., the curtains,\nsuppose of serge from Taunton and Exeter, or of camblets, from Norwich,\nor the same with the hangings, as above; the ticking comes from the west\ncountry, Somerset and Dorsetshire; the feathers also from the same\ncountry; the blankets from Whitney in Oxfordshire; the rugs from\nWestmoreland and Yorkshire; the sheets, of good linen, from Ireland;\nkitchen utensils and chimney-furniture, almost all the brass and iron\nfrom Birmingham and Sheffield; earthen-ware from Stafford, Nottingham,\nand Kent; glass ware from Sturbridge in Worcestershire, and London.\nI give this list to explain what I said before, namely, that there is no\nparticular place in England, where all the manufactures are made, but\nevery county or place has its peculiar sort, or particular manufacture,\nin which the people are wholly employed; and for all the rest that is\nwanted, they fetch them from other parts.[41]\nBut, then, as what is thus wanted by every particular person, or family,\nis but in small quantities, and they would not be able to send for it to\nthe country or town where it is to be bought, there are shopkeepers in\nevery village, or at least in every considerable market-town, where the\nparticulars are to be bought, and who find it worth their while to\nfurnish themselves with quantities of all the particular goods, be they\nmade where and as far off as they will; and at these shops the people\nwho want them are easily supplied.\nNor do even these shopkeepers go or send to all the several counties\nwhere those goods are made--that is to say, to this part for the cloth,\nor to that for the lining; to another for the buttons, and to another\nfor the thread; but they again correspond with the wholesale dealers in\nLondon, where there are particular shops or warehouses for all these;\nand they not only furnish the country shopkeepers, but give them large\ncredit, and sell them great quantities of goods, by which they again\nare enabled to trust the tailors who make the clothes, or even their\nneighbours who wear them; and the manufacturers in the several counties\ndo the like by those wholesale dealers who supply the country shops.\nThrough so many hands do all the necessary things pass for the clothing\na poor plain countryman, though he lived as far as Berwick-upon-Tweed;\nand this occasions, as I have said, a general circulation of trade, both\nto and from London, from and to all the parts of England, so that every\nmanufacture is sold and removed five or six times, and perhaps more,\nbefore it comes at the last consumer.\nThis method of trade brings another article in, which also is the great\nfoundation of the increase of commerce, and the prodigious magnitude of\nour inland trade is much owing to it; and that is giving credit, by\nwhich every tradesman is enabled to trade for a great deal more than he\notherwise could do. By this method a shopkeeper is able to stock his\nshop, or warehouses, with two or three times as much goods in value, as\nhe has stock of his own to begin the world with, and by that means is\nable to trust out his goods to others, and give them time, and so under\none another--nay, I may say, many a tradesman begins the world with\nborrowed stocks, or with no stock at all, but that of credit, and yet\ncarries on a trade for several hundreds, nay, for several thousands, of\npounds a-year.\nBy this means the trade in general is infinitely increased--nay, the\nstock of the kingdom in trade is doubled, or trebled, or more, and there\nis infinitely more business carried on, than the real stock could be\nable to manage, if no credit were to be given; for credit in this\nparticular is a stock, and that not an imaginary, but a real stock; for\nthe tradesman, that perhaps begins but with five hundred, or one\nthousand pounds' stock, shall be able to furnish or stock his shop with\nfour times the sum in the value of goods; and as he gives credit again,\nand trusts other tradesmen under him, so he launches out into a trade of\ngreat magnitude; and yet, if he is a prudent manager of his business, he\nfinds himself able to answer his payments, and so continually supply\nhimself with goods, keeping up the reputation of his dealings, and the\ncredit of his shop, though his stock be not a fifth, nay, sometimes not\na tenth part, in proportion to the returns that he makes by the year: so\nthat credit is the foundation on which the trade of England is made so\nconsiderable.\nNor is it enough to say, that people must and will have goods, and that\nthe consumption is the same; it is evident that consumption is not the\nsame; and in those nations where they give no credit, or not so much as\nhere, the trade is small in proportion, as I shall show in its place.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[38] [The amount of trade produced by the British colonies is still\ngreat; but it has been ascertained that it is not profitable to the\nnation at large, as much more is paid from the public purse for the\nmilitary protection required by the colonies, than returns to\nindividuals through the medium of business.]\n[39] [The cotton manufacture has now the prominence which, in Defoe's\ntime, was due to those of wool and silk.]\n[40] [It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, that the canal\nnavigation of England has come into existence since the date of this\nwork--the railway communication is but of yesterday.]\n[41] [Since Defoe's time, little alteration has taken place in the\nlocality of a number of manufactures in England; but, in the interval,\nan entire change has been effected in Scotland, which now possesses\nvarious manufactures of importance in the commercial economy of the\nnation. We need only allude to the cambrics, gauzes, and silks of\nPaisley; the cottons and other goods of Glasgow; the plaidings of\nStirlingshire; the stockings of Hawick; the printing-paper of\nMid-Lothian; the carpets and bonnets of Kilmarnock; the iron of Muirkirk\nand Carron; the linens of Fife and Dundee; and the shawls of Edinburgh.]\nCHAPTER XXIV\nOF CREDIT IN TRADE, AND HOW A TRADESMAN OUGHT TO VALUE AND IMPROVE IT:\nHOW EASILY LOST, AND HOW HARD IT IS TO BE RECOVERED\nCredit is, or ought to be, the tradesman's _mistress_; but I must tell\nhim too, he must not think of ever casting her off, for if once he loses\nher, she hardly ever returns; and yet she has one quality, in which she\ndiffers from most of the ladies who go by that name--if you court her,\nshe is gone; if you manage so wisely as to make her believe you really\ndo not want her, she follows and courts you. But, by the way, no\ntradesman can be in so good circumstances as to say he does not want,\nthat is, does not stand in need of credit.\nCredit, next to real stock, is the foundation, the life and soul, of\nbusiness in a private tradesman; it is his prosperity; it is his support\nin the substance of his whole trade; even in public matters, it is the\nstrengh and fund of a nation. We felt, in the late wars, the consequence\nof both the extremes--namely, of wanting and of enjoying a complete fund\nof credit.\nCredit makes war, and makes peace; raises armies, fits out navies,\nfights battles, besieges towns; and, in a word, it is more justly called\nthe sinews of war than the money itself,[42] because it can do all these\nthings without money--nay, it will bring in money to be subservient,\nthough it be independent.\nCredit makes the soldier fight without pay, the armies march without\nprovisions, and it makes tradesmen keep open shop without stock. The\nforce of credit is not to be described by words; it is an impregnable\nfortification, either for a nation, or for a single man in business; and\nhe that has credit is invulnerable, whether he has money or no; nay, it\nwill make money, and, which is yet more, it will make money without an\nintrinsic, without the _materia medica_ (as the doctors have it); it\nadds a value, and supports whatever value it adds, to the meanest\nsubstance; it makes paper pass for money, and fills the Exchequer and\nthe banks with as many millions as it pleases, upon demand. As I said\nin last chapter, it increases commerce; so, I may add, it makes trade,\nand makes the whole kingdom trade for many millions more than the\nnational specie can amount to.\nIt may be true, as some allege, that we cannot drive a trade for more\ngoods than we have to trade with, but then it is as true, that it is by\nthe help of credit that we can increase the quantity, and that more\ngoods are made to trade with than would otherwise be; more goods are\nbrought to market than they could otherwise sell; and even in the last\nconsumption, how many thousands of families wear out their clothes\nbefore they pay for them, and eat their dinner upon tick with the\nbutcher! Nay, how many thousands who could not buy any clothes, if they\nwere to pay for them in ready money, yet buy them at a venture upon\ntheir credit, and pay for them as they can!\nTrade is anticipated by credit, and it grows by the anticipation; for\nmen often buy clothes before they pay for them, because they want\nclothes before they can spare the money; and these are so many in\nnumber, that really they add a great stroke to the bulk of our inland\ntrade. How many families have we in England that live upon credit, even\nto the tune of two or three years' rent of their revenue, before it\ncomes in!--so that they must be said to _eat the calf in the cow's\nbelly_. This encroachment they make upon the stock in trade; and even\nthis very article may state the case: I doubt not but at this time the\nland owes to the trade some millions sterling; that is to say, the\ngentlemen owe to the tradesmen so much money, which, at long run, the\nrents of their lands must pay.\nThe tradesmen having, then, trusted the landed men with so much, where\nmust they have it but by giving credit also to one another? Trusting\ntheir goods and money into trade, one launching out into the hands of\nanother, and forbearing payment till the lands make it good out of their\nproduce, that is to say, out of their rents.\nThe trade is not limited; the produce of lands may be and is restrained.\nTrade cannot exceed the bounds of the goods it can sell; but while trade\ncan increase its stock of cash by credit, it can increase its stock of\ngoods for sale, and then it has nothing to do but to find a market to\nsell at; and this we have done in all parts of the world, still by the\nforce of our stocks being so increased.\nThus, credit raising stock at home, that stock enables us to give credit\nabroad; and thus the quantity of goods which we make, and which is\ninfinitely increased at home, enables us to find or force a vent abroad.\nThis is apparent, our home trade having so far increased our\nmanufacture, that England may be said to be able almost to clothe the\nwhole world; and in our carrying on the foreign trade wholly upon the\nEnglish stocks, giving credit to almost all the nations of the world;\nfor it is evident, our stocks lie at this time upon credit in the\nwarehouses of the merchants in Spain and Portugal, Holland and Germany,\nItaly and Turkey; nay, in New Spain and Brazil.\nThe exceeding quantity of goods thus raised in England cannot be\nsupposed to be the mere product of the solid wealth and stocks of the\nEnglish people; we do not pretend to it; the joining those stocks to the\nvalue of goods, always appearing in England in the hands of the\nmanufacturers, tradesmen, and merchants, and to the wealth which appears\nin shipping, in stock upon land, and in the current coin of the nation,\nwould amount to such a prodigy of stock, as not all Europe could pretend\nto.\nBut all this is owing to the prodigious thing called credit, the extent\nof which in the British trade is as hard to be valued, as the benefit of\nit to England is really not to be described. It must be likewise said,\nto the honour of our English tradesman, that they understand how to\nmanage the credit they both give and take, better than any other\ntradesmen in the world; indeed, they have a greater opportunity to\nimprove it, and make use of it, and therefore may be supposed to be more\nready in making the best of their credit, than any other nations are.\nHence it is that we frequently find tradesmen carrying on a prodigious\ntrade with but a middling stock of their own, the rest being all managed\nby the force of their credit; for example, I have known a man in a\nprivate warehouse in London trade for forty thousand pounds a-year\nsterling, and carry on such a return for many years together, and not\nhave one thousand pounds' stock of his own, or not more--all the rest\nhas been carried on upon credit, being the stocks of other men running\ncontinually through his hands; and this is not practised now and then,\nas a great rarity, but is very frequent in trade, and may be seen every\nday, as what in its degree runs through the whole body of the tradesmen\nin England.[43]\nEvery tradesman both gives and takes credit, and the new mode of setting\nit up over their shop and warehouse doors, in capital letters, _No trust\nby retail_, is a presumption in trade; and though it may have been\nattempted in some trades, was never yet brought to any perfection; and\nmost of those trades, who were the forwardest to set it up, have been\nobliged to take it down again, or act contrary to it in their business,\nor see some very good customers go away from them to other shops, who,\nthough they have not brought money with them, have yet good foundations\nto make any tradesmen trust them, and who do at proper times make\npayments punctual enough.\nOn the contrary, instead of giving no trust by retail, we see very\nconsiderable families who buy nothing but on trust; even bread, beer,\nbutter, cheese, beef, and mutton, wine, groceries, &c, being the things\nwhich even with the meanest families are generally sold for ready money.\nThus I have known a family, whose revenue has been some thousands\na-year, pay their butcher, and baker, and grocer, and cheesemonger, by a\nhundred pounds at a time, and be generally a hundred more in each of\ntheir debts, and yet the tradesmen have thought it well worth while to\ntrust them, and their pay has in the end been very honest and good.\nThis is what I say brings land so much in debt to trade, and obliges the\ntradesman to take credit of one another; and yet they do not lose by it\nneither, for the tradesmen find it in the price, and they take care to\nmake such families pay warmly for the credit, in the rate of their\ngoods; nor can it be expected it should be otherwise, for unless the\nprofit answered it, the tradesman could not afford to be so long without\nhis money.\nThis credit takes its beginning in our manufactures, even at the very\nfirst of the operation, for the master manufacturer himself begins it.\nTake a country clothier, or bay-maker, or what other maker of goods you\nplease, provided he be one that puts out the goods to the making; it is\ntrue that the poor spinners and weavers cannot trust; the first spin for\ntheir bread, and the last not only weave for their bread, but they have\nseveral workmen and boys under them, who are very poor, and if they\nshould want their pay on Saturday night, must want their dinner on\nSunday; and perhaps would be in danger of starving with their families,\nby the next Saturday.\nBut though the clothier cannot have credit for spinning and weaving, he\nbuys his wool at the stapler's or fellmonger's, and he gets two or three\nmonths' credit for that; he buys his oil and soap of the country\nshopkeeper, or has it sent down from his factor at London, and he gets\nlonger credit for that, and the like of all other things; so that a\nclothier of any considerable business, when he comes to die, shall\nappear to be \u00a34000 or \u00a35000 in debt.\nBut, then, look into his books, and you shall find his factor at\nBlackwell Hall, who sells his cloths, or the warehouse-keeper who sells\nhis duroys and druggets, or both together, have \u00a32000 worth of goods in\nhand left unsold, and has trusted out to drapers, and mercers, and\nmerchants, to the value of \u00a34000 more; and look into his workhouse at\nhome, namely, his wool-lofts, his combing-shop, his yarn-chamber, and\nthe like, and there you will find it--in wool unspun, and in yarn spun,\nand in wool at the spinners', and in yarn at and in the looms at the\nweavers'; in rape-oil, gallipoli oil, and perhaps soap, &c, in his\nwarehouses, and in cloths at the fulling-mill, and in his rowing-shops,\nfinished and unfinished, \u00a34000 worth of goods more; so that, though this\nclothier owed \u00a35000 at his death, he has nevertheless died in good\ncircumstances, and has \u00a35000 estate clear to go among his children, all\nhis debts paid and discharged. However, it is evident, that at the very\nbeginning of this manufacturer's trade, his \u00a35000 stock is made \u00a310,000,\nby the help of his credit, and he trades for three times as much in the\nyear; so that \u00a35000 stock makes \u00a310,000 stock and credit, and that\ntogether makes \u00a330,000 a-year returned in trade.\nWhen you come from him to the warehouse-keeper in London, there you\ndouble and treble upon it, to an unknown degree; for the London\nwholesale man shall at his death appear to have credit among the country\nclothiers for \u00a310,000 or \u00a315,000, nay, to \u00a320,000, and yet have kept up\nan unspotted credit all his days.\nWhen he is dead, and his executors or widow come to look into things,\nthey are frightened with the very appearance of such a weight of debts,\nand begin to doubt how his estate will come out at the end of it. But\nwhen they come to cast up his books and his warehouse, they find,\nIn debts abroad, perhaps   \u00a330,000\nIn goods in his warehouse  \u00a312,000\nSo that, in a word, the man has died immensely rich; that is to say,\nworth between \u00a320,000 and \u00a330,000, only that, having been a long\nstandard in trade, and having a large stock, he drove a very great\nbusiness, perhaps to the tune of \u00a360,000 or \u00a370,000 a-year; so that, of\nall the \u00a330,000 owing, there may be very little of it delivered above\nfour to six months, and the debtors being many of them considerable\nmerchants, and good paymasters, there is no difficulty in getting in\nmoney enough to clear all his own debts; and the widow and children\nbeing left well, are not in such haste for the rest but that it comes in\ntime enough to make them easy; and at length it all comes in, or with\nbut a little loss.\nAs it is thus in great things, it is the same in proportion with small;\nso that in all the trade of England, you may reckon two-thirds of it\ncarried on upon credit; in which reckoning I suppose I speak much within\ncompass, for in some trades there is four parts of five carried on so,\nand in some more.\nAll these things serve to show the infinite value of which credit is to\nthe tradesman, as well as to trade itself; and it is for this reason I\nhave closed my instructions with this part of the discourse. Credit is\nthe choicest jewel the tradesman is trusted with; it is better than\nmoney many ways; if a man has \u00a310,000 in money, he may certainly trade\nfor \u00a310,000, and if he has no credit, he cannot trade for a shilling\nmore.\nBut how often have we seen men, by the mere strength of their credit,\ntrade for ten thousand pounds a-year, and have not one groat of real\nstock of their own left in the world! Nay, I can say it of my own\nknowledge, that I have known a tradesman trade for ten thousand pounds\na-year, and carry it on with full credit to the last gasp, then die, and\nbreak both at once; that is to say, die unsuspected, and yet, when his\nestate has been cast up, appear to be five thousand pounds worse than\nnothing in the world: how he kept up his credit, and made good his\npayments so long, is indeed the mystery, and makes good what I said\nbefore, namely, that as none trade so much upon credit in the world, so\nnone know so well how to improve and manage credit to their real\nadvantage, as the English tradesmen do; and we have many examples of it,\namong our bankers especially, of which I have not room to enter at this\ntime into the discourse, though it would afford a great many diverting\nparticulars.[44]\nI have mentioned on several occasions in this work, how nice and how\ndainty a dame this credit is, how soon she is affronted and disobliged,\nand how hard to be recovered, when once distasted and fled; particularly\nin the story of the tradesman who told his friends in a public\ncoffee-house that he was broke, and should shut up his shop the next\nday. I have hinted how chary we ought to be of one another's credit, and\nthat we should take care as much of our neighbour tradesman's credit as\nwe would of his life, or as we would of firing his house, and,\nconsequently, the whole street.\nLet me close all with a word to the tradesman himself, that if it be so\nvaluable to him, and his friends should be all so chary of injuring his\nreputation, certainly he should be very chary of it himself. The\ntradesman that is not as tender of his credit as he is of his eyes, or\nof his wife and children, neither deserves credit, nor will long be\nmaster of it.\nAs credit is a coy mistress, and will not easily be courted, so she is a\nmighty nice touchy lady, and is soon affronted; if she is ill used, she\nflies at once, and it is a very doubtful thing whether ever you gain her\nfavour again.\nSome may ask me here, 'How comes it to pass, since she is so nice and\ntouchy a lady, that so many clowns court and carry her, and so many\nfools keep her so long?' My answer is, that those clowns have yet good\nbreeding enough to treat her civilly; he must be a fool indeed that will\ngive way to have his credit injured, and sit still and be quiet-that\nwill not bustle and use his utmost industry to vindicate his own\nreputation, and preserve his credit.\nBut the main question for a tradesman in this case, and which I have not\nspoken of yet, is, 'What is the man to do to preserve his credit? What\nare the methods that a young tradesman is to take, to gain a good share\nof credit in his beginning, and to preserve and maintain it when it is\ngained?'[45]\nEvery tradesman's credit is supposed to be good at first. He that begins\nwithout credit, is an unhappy wretch of a tradesman indeed, and may be\nsaid to be broke even before he sets up; for what can a man do, who by\nany misfortune in his conduct during his apprenticeship, or by some ill\ncharacter upon him so early, begins with a blast upon his credit? My\nadvice to such a young man would be, not to set up at all; or if he did,\nto stay for some time, till by some better behaviour, either as a\njourneyman, or as an assistant in some other man's shop or warehouse, he\nhad recovered himself; or else to go and set up in some other place or\ntown remote from that where he has been bred; for he must have a great\nassurance that can flatter himself to set up, and believe he shall\nrecover a lost reputation.\nBut take a young tradesman as setting up with the ordinary stock, that\nis to say, a negative character, namely, that he has done nothing to\nhurt his character, nothing to prejudice his behaviour, and to give\npeople a suspicion of him: what, then, is the first principle on which\nto build a tradesman's reputation? and what is it he is to do?\nThe answer is short. Two things raise credit in trade, and, I may say,\nthey are the only things required; there are some necessary addenda, but\nthese are the fundamentals.\n1. Industry. 2. Honesty.\nI have dwelt upon the first; the last I have but a few words to say to,\nbut they will be very significant; indeed, that head requires no\ncomment, no explanations or enlargements: nothing can support credit, be\nit public or private, but honesty; a punctual dealing, a general probity\nin every transaction. He that once breaks through his honesty, violates\nhis credit--once denominate a man a knave, and you need not forbid any\nman to trust him.\nEven in the public it appears to be the same thing. Let any man view the\npublic credit in its present flourishing circumstances, and compare it\nwith the latter end of the years of King Charles II. after the Exchequer\nhad been shut up, parliamentary appropriations misapplied, and, in a\nword, the public faith broken; who would lend? Seven or eight per cent,\nwas given for anticipations in King William's time, though no new fraud\nhad been offered, only because the old debts were unpaid; and how hard\nwas it to get any one to lend money at all!\nBut, after by a long series of just and punctual dealing, the Parliament\nmaking good all the deficient funds, and paying even those debts for\nwhich no provision was made, and the like, how is the credit restored,\nthe public faith made sacred again, and how money flows into the\nExchequer without calling for, and that at three or four per cent.\ninterest, even from foreign countries as well as from our own people!\nThey that have credit can never want money; and this credit is to be\nraised by no other method, whether by private tradesmen, or public\nbodies of men, by nations and governments, but by a general probity and\nan honest punctual dealing.\nThe reason of this case is as plain as the assertion; the cause is in\nitself; no man lends his money but with an expectation of receiving it\nagain with the interest. If the borrower pays it punctually without\nhesitations and defalcations, without difficulties, and, above all,\nwithout compulsion, what is the consequence?--he is called an honest\nman, he has the reputation of a punctual fair dealer. And what\nthen?--why, then, he may borrow again whenever he will, he may take up\nmoney and goods, or anything, upon his bare words, or note; when another\nman must give bondsmen, or _mainprize_, that is, a pawn or pledge for\nsecurity, and hardly be trusted to neither. This is credit.\nIt is not the quality of the person would give credit to his dealing;\nnot kings, princes, emperors, it is all one; nay, a private shopkeeper\nshall borrow money much easier than a prince, if the credit of the\ntradesman has the reputation of being an honest man. Not the crown\nitself can give credit to the head that wears it, if once he that wears\nit comes but to mortgage his honour in the matter of payment of money.\nWho would have lent King Charles II. fifty pounds on the credit of his\nword or bond, after the shutting up the Exchequer? The royal word was\nmade a jest of, and the character of the king was esteemed a fluttering\ntrifle, which no man would venture upon, much less venture his money\nupon.\nIn King William's time the case was much the same at first; though the\nking had not broken his credit then with any man, yet how did they break\ntheir faith with the whole world, by the deficiency of the funds, the\ngiving high and ruinous interest to men almost as greedy as vultures,\nthe causing the government to pay great and extravagant rates for what\nthey bought, and great premiums for what they borrowed--these were the\ninjuries to the public for want of credit; nor was it in the power of\nthe whole nation to remedy it; on the contrary, they made it still grow\nworse and worse, till, as above, the parliament recovered it. And how\nwas it done? Not but by the same method a private person must do the\nsame, namely, by doing justly, and fairly, and honestly, by every body.\nThus credit began to revive, and to enlarge itself again; and usury,\nwhich had, as it were, eaten up mankind in business, declined, and so\nthings came to their right way again.\nThe case is the same with a tradesman; if he shuffles in payment,\nbargains at one time, and pays at another, breaks his word and his\nhonour in the road of his business, he is gone; no man will take his\nbills, no man will trust him.\nThe conclusion is open and clear: the tradesman cannot be too careful of\nhis credit, he cannot buy it too dear, or be too careful to preserve it:\nit is in vain to maintain it by false and loose doing business; by\nbreaking faith, refusing to perform agreements, and such shuffling\nthings as those; the greatest monarch in Europe could not so preserve\nhis credit.\nNothing but probity will support credit; just, and fair, and honourable\ndealings give credit, and nothing but the same just, and fair, and\nhonourable dealings will preserve it.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[42] [How strikingly was this proved in the last war, when the British\ngovernment obtained credit for no less than six hundred millions to\nconduct warlike operations, and by these means was ultimately\nvictorious.]\n[43] [The author's praises of credit must be received with caution. If\nhis descriptions of the credit system of his own day are true, an\nimprovement has since taken place, as business neither is nor can be now\ncarried on to such an extent upon credit--a circumstance that redounds\nto the advantage of all parties.]\n[44] [Defoe speaks of such cases as if there were something laudable in\nthem, whereas it is obviously for the interest of all honest traders,\nthat no such men should be allowed to carry on business.]\n[45] [Defoe almost appears in this place to lay capital out of the\nquestion, and to represent credit as all in all. Credit is a matter of\ngreat consequence; but we must not attempt to carry on business by its\nmeans alone. It should only be considered as an aid to capital. Those\nwho, without capital, endeavour to set up in business by means of\ncredit, or, when capital is exhausted, attempt to struggle on by means\nof credit alone, will, in general, only have a life of anxiety and\ndispeace for their pains.]\nCHAPTER XXV\nOF THE TRADESMAN'S PUNCTUAL PAYING HIS BILLS AND PROMISSORY NOTES UNDER\nHIS HAND, AND THE CREDIT HE GAINS BY IT\nAs I said that credit is maintained by just and honourable dealing, so\nthat just dealing depends very much upon the tradesman's punctual\npayment of money in all the several demands that are upon him. The\nordinary demands of money upon a tradesman are--\nI. Promises of money for goods bought at time.\nII. Bills drawn upon him; which, generally speaking, are from the\ncountry, that is to say, from some places remote from where he lives.\nOr,\nIII. Promissory notes under his hand, which are passed oftentimes upon\nbuying goods: bought also at time, as in the first head.\nIV. Bonds bearing interest, given chiefly for money borrowed at running\ninterest.\n1. Promises of money for goods bought at time. This indeed is the\nloosest article in a tradesman's payments; and it is true that a\ntradesman's credit is maintained upon the easiest terms in this case of\nany other that belongs to trade; for in this case not one man in twenty\nkeeps to his time; and so easy are tradesmen to one another, that in\ngeneral it is not much expected, but he that pays tolerably well, and\nwithout dunning, is a good man, and in credit; shall be trusted any\nwhere, and keeps up a character in his business: sometimes he pays\nsooner, sometimes later, and is accounted so good a customer, that\nthough he owes a great deal, yet he shall be trusted any where, and is\nas lofty and touchy if his credit be called in question, as if he paid\nall ready money.\nAnd, indeed, these men shall often buy their goods as cheap upon the\ncredit of their ordinary pay, as another man shall that brings his money\nin his hand; and it is reasonable it should be so, for the ready-money\nman comes and buys a parcel here and a parcel there, and comes but\nseldom, but the other comes every day, that is to say, as often as he\nwants goods, buys considerably, perhaps deals for two or three thousand\npounds a-year with you, and the like, and pays currently too. Such a\ncustomer ought indeed to be sold as cheap to, as the other chance\ncustomer for his ready money. In this manner of trade, I say, credit is\nmaintained upon the easiest terms of any other, and yet here the\ntradesman must have a great care to keep it up too; for though it be the\neasiest article to keep up credit in, yet even in this article the\ntradesman may lose his credit, and then he is undone at once; and this\nis by growing (what in the language of trade is called) long-winded,\nputting off and putting off continually, till he will bear dunning; then\nhis credit falls, his dealer that trusted him perhaps a thousand pounds\npreviously, that esteemed him as good as ready money, now grows sick of\nhim, declines him, cares not whether he deals with him or no, and at\nlast refuses to trust him any longer. Then his credit is quite sunk and\ngone, and in a little after that his trade is ruined and the tradesman\ntoo; for he must be a very extraordinary tradesman that can open his\nshop after he has outlived his credit: let him look which way he will,\nall is lost, nobody cares to deal with him, and, which is still worse,\nnobody will trust him.\n2. Bills drawn upon him from the country, that is to say, from some\nplaces remote from where he now dwells: it is but a little while ago\nsince those bills were the loosest things in trade, for as they could\nnot be protested, so they would not (in all their heats) always sue for\nthem, but rather return them to the person from whom they received them.\nIn the meantime, let the occasion be what it will, the tradesman ought\non all occasions to pay these notes without a public recalling and\nreturning them, and without hesitation of any kind whatsoever. He that\nlets his bills lie long unpaid, must not expect to keep his credit much\nafter them.\nBesides, the late law for noting and protesting inland bills, alters the\ncase very much. Bills now accepted, are protested in form, and, if not\npunctually paid, are either returned immediately, or the person on whom\nthey are drawn is liable to be sued at law; either of which is at best a\nblow to the credit of the acceptor.\nA tradesman may, without hurt to his reputation, refuse to accept a\nbill, for then, when the notary comes he gives his reasons, namely, that\nhe refuses to accept the bill for want of advice, or for want of effects\nin his hands for account of the drawer, or that he has not given orders\nto draw upon him; in all which cases the non-acceptance touches the\ncredit of the drawer; for in trade it is always esteemed a dishonourable\nthing to draw upon any man that has not effects in his hands to answer\nthe bill; or to draw without order, or to draw and not give advice of\nit; because it looks like a forwardness to take the remitter's money\nwithout giving him a sufficient demand for it, where he expects and\nought to have it.\nA tradesman comes to me in London, and desires me to give him a bill\npayable at Bristol, for he is going to the fair there, and being to buy\ngoods there, he wants money at Bristol to pay for them. If I give him a\nbill, he pays me down the money upon receipt of it, depending upon my\ncredit for the acceptance of the bill. If I draw this bill where I have\nno reason to draw it, where I have no demand, or no effects to answer\nit, or if I give my correspondent no advice of it, I abuse the remitter,\nthat is, the man whose money I take, and this reflects upon my credit\nthat am the drawer, and the next time this tradesman wants money at\nBristol fair, he will not come to me. 'No,' says he, 'his last bills\nwere not accepted.' Or, if he does come to me, then he demands that he\nshould not pay his money till he has advice that my bills are accepted.\nBut, on the other hand, if bills are right drawn, and advice duly given,\nand the person has effects in his hands, then, if he refuses the bill,\nhe says to the notary he does not accept the bill, but gives no reason\nfor it, only that he says absolutely, 'I will not accept it--you may\ntake that for an answer;' or he adds, 'I refuse to accept it, for\nreasons best known to myself.' This is sometimes done, but this does not\nleave the person's credit who refuses, so clear as the other, though\nperhaps it may not so directly reflect upon him; but it leaves the case\na little dubious and uncertain, and men will be apt to write back to the\nperson who sent the bill to inquire what the drawer says to it, and what\naccount he gives, or what character he has upon his tongue for the\nperson drawn upon.\nAs the punctual paying of bills when accepted, is a main article in the\ncredit of the acceptor, so a tradesman should be very cautious in\npermitting men to draw upon him where he has not effects, or does not\ngive order; for though, as I said, it ought not to affect his reputation\nnot to accept a bill where it ought not to be drawn, yet a tradesman\nthat is nice of his own character does not love to be always or often\nrefusing to accept bills, or to have bills drawn upon him where he has\nno reason to accept them, and therefore he will be very positive in\nforbidding such drawing; and if, notwithstanding that, the importunities\nof the country tradesman oblige him to draw, the person drawn upon will\ngive smart and rough answers to such bills; as particularly, 'I refuse\nto accept this bill, because I have no effects of the drawer's to answer\nit.' Or thus, 'I refuse to accept this bill, because I not only gave no\norders to draw, but gave positive orders not to draw.' Or thus, 'I\nneither will accept this bill, nor any other this man shall draw;' and\nthe like. This thoroughly clears the credit of the acceptor, and\nreflects grossly on the drawer.\nAnd yet, I say, even in this case a tradesman does not care to be drawn\nupon, and be obliged to see bills presented for acceptance, and for\npayment, where he has given orders not to draw, and where he has no\neffects to answer.\nIt is the great error of our country manufacturers, in many, if not in\nmost, parts of England at this time, that as soon as they can finish\ntheir goods, they hurry them up to London to their factor, and as soon\nas the goods are gone, immediately follow them with their bills for the\nmoney, without waiting to hear whether the goods are come to a market,\nare sold, or in demand, and whether they are likely to sell quickly or\nnot; thus they load the factor's warehouse with their goods before they\nare wanted, and load the factor with their bills, before it is possible\nthat he can have gotten cash in his hand to pay them.\nThis is, first, a direct borrowing money of their factor; and it is\nborrowing, as it were, whether the factor will lend or no, and sometimes\nwhether he can or no. The factor, if he be a man of money, and answers\ntheir bills, fails not to make them pay for advancing; or sells the\ngoods to loss to answer the bills, which is making them pay dear for the\nloan; or refuses their bills, and so baulks both their business and\ntheir credit.\nBut if the factor, willing to oblige his employers, and knowing he shall\notherwise lose their commission, accepts the bills on the credit of the\ngoods, and then, not being able to sell the goods in time, is also made\nunable to pay the bills when due--this reflects upon his credit, though\nthe fault is indeed in the drawer whose effects are not come in; and\nthis has ruined many an honest factor.\nFirst, it has hurt him by drawing large sums out of his cash, for the\nsupply of the needy manufacturer, who is his employer, and has thereby\nmade him unable to pay his other bills currently, even of such men's\ndrafts who had perhaps good reason to draw.\nSecondly, it keeps the factor always bare of money, and wounds his\nreputation, so that he pays those very bills with discredit, which in\njustice to himself he ought not to pay at all, and the borrower has the\nmoney, at the expense of the credit of the lender; whereas, indeed, the\nreproach ought to be to him that borrows, not to him that lends--to him\nthat draws where there are no effects to warrant his draft, not to him\nthat pays where he does not owe.\nBut the damage lies on the circumstances of accepting the bill, for the\nfactor lends his employer the money the hour he accepts the bill, and\nthe blow to his credit is for not paying when accepted. When the bill is\naccepted, the acceptor is debtor to the person to whom the bill is\npayable, or in his right to every indorser; for a bill of exchange is in\nthis case different from a bond, namely, that the right of action is\ntransferable by indorsement, and every indorser has a right to sue the\nacceptor in his own name, and can transfer that right to another;\nwhereas in a bond, though it be given to me by assignment, I must sue in\nthe name of the first person to whom the bond is payable, and he may at\nany time discharge the bond, notwithstanding my assignment.\nTradesmen, then, especially such as are factors,[46] are unaccountably\nto blame to accept bills for their employers before their goods are\nsold, and the money received, or within reach: if the employers cannot\nwait, the reproach should lie on them, not on the factor; and, indeed,\nthe manufacturers all over England are greatly wrong in that part of\ntheir business; for, not considering the difference between a time of\ndemand and a time of glut, a quick or a dead market, they go on in the\nsame course of making, and, without slackening their hands as to\nquantity, crowd up their goods, as if it were enough to them that the\nfactor had them, and that they were to be reckoned as sold when they\nwere in his hands: but would the factor truly represent to them the\nstate of the market--that there are great quantities of goods in hand\nunsold, and no present demand, desiring them to slack their hands a\nlittle in making; and at the same time back their directions in a plain\nand positive way, though with respect too, by telling them they could\naccept no more bills till the goods were sold. This would bring the\ntrade into a better regulation, and the makers would stop their hands\nwhen the market stopped; and when the merchant ceased to buy, the\nmanufacturers would cease to make, and, consequently, would not crowd or\nclog the market with goods, or wrong their factors with bills.\nBut this would require a large discourse, and the manufacturers'\nobjections should be answered, namely, that they cannot stop, that they\nhave their particular sets of workmen and spinners, whom they are\nobliged to keep employed, or, if they should dismiss them, they could\nnot have them again when a demand for goods came, and the markets\nrevived, and that, besides, the poor would starve.\nThese objections are easy to be answered, though that is not my present\nbusiness; but thus far it is to my purpose--it is the factor's business\nto keep himself within compass: if the goods cannot be sold, the maker\nmust stay till they can; if the poor must be employed, the manufacturer\nis right to keep them at work if he can; but if he cannot, without\noppressing the factor, then he makes the factor employ them, not\nhimself; and I do not see the factor has any obligation upon him to\nconsider the spinners and weavers, especially not at the expense of his\nown credit, and his family's safety.\nUpon the whole, all tradesmen that trade thus, whether by commission\nfrom the country, or upon their own accounts, should make it the\nstanding order of their business not to suffer themselves to be\noverdrawn by their employers, so as to straiten themselves in their\ncash, and make them unable to pay their bills when accepted. It is also\nto be observed, that when a tradesman once comes to suffer himself to be\nthus overdrawn, and sinks his credit in kindness to his employer, he\nbuys his employment so dear as all his employer can do for him can never\nrepay the price.\nAnd even while he is thus serving his employer, he more and more wounds\nhimself; for suppose he does (with difficulty) raise money, and, after\nsome dunning, does pay the bills, yet he loses in the very doing it, for\nhe never pays them with credit, but suffers in reputation by every day's\ndelay. In a word, a tradesman that buys upon credit, that is to say, in\na course of credit, such as I have described before, may let the\nmerchant or the warehouse-keeper call two or three times, and may put\nhim off without much damage to his credit; and if he makes them stay one\ntime, he makes it up again another, and recovers in one good payment\nwhat he lost in two or three bad ones.\nBut in bills of exchange or promissory notes, it is quite another thing;\nand he that values his reputation in trade should never let a bill come\ntwice for payment, or a note under his hand stay a day after it is due,\nthat is to say, after the three days _of grace,_ as it is called. Those\nthree days, indeed, are granted to all bills of exchange, not by law,\nbut by the custom of trade: it is hard to tell how this custom\nprevailed, or when it began, but it is one of those many instances which\nmay be given, where custom of trade is equal to an established law; and\nit is so much a law now in itself, that no bill is protested now, till\nthose three days are expired; nor is a bill of exchange esteemed due\ntill the third day; no man offers to demand it, nor will any goldsmith,\nor even the bank itself, pay a foreign bill sooner. But that by the way.\nBills of exchange being thus sacred in trade, and inland bills being (by\nthe late law for protesting them, and giving interest and damage upon\nthem) made, as near as can be, equally sacred, nothing can be of more\nmoment to a tradesman than to pay them always punctually and honourably.\nLet no critic cavil at the word _honourably_, as it relates to trade:\npunctual payment is the honour of trade, and there is a word always used\namong merchants which justifies my using it in this place; and that is,\nwhen a merchant draws a bill from abroad upon his friend at London, his\ncorrespondent in London answering his letter, and approving his drawing\nupon him, adds, that he shall be sure to _honour_ his bill when it\nappears; that is to say, to accept it.\nLikewise, when the drawer gives advice of his having drawn such a bill\nupon him, he gives an account of the sum drawn, the name of the person\nit is payable to, the time it is drawn at, that is, the time given for\npayment, and he adds thus--'I doubt not your giving my bill due\nhonour;' that is, of accepting it, and paying it when it is due.\nThis term is also used in another case in foreign trade only, namely--a\nmerchant abroad (say it be at Lisbon, or Bourdeaux) draws a bill of \u00a3300\nsterling upon his correspondent at London: the correspondent happens to\nbe dead, or is broke, or by some other accident the bill is not\naccepted; another merchant on the Exchange hearing of it, and knowing,\nand perhaps corresponding with, the merchant abroad who drew the bill,\nand loth his credit should suffer by the bill going back protested,\naccepts it, and pays it for him. This is called accepting it for the\nhonour of the drawer; and he writes so upon the bill when he accepts it,\nwhich entitles him to re-draw the same with interest upon the drawer in\nLisbon or Bourdeaux, as above.\nThis is, indeed, a case peculiar to foreign commerce, and is not often\npractised in home trade, and among shopkeepers, though sometimes I have\nknown it practised here too: but I name it on two accounts, first--to\nlegitimate the word honourable, which I had used, and which has its due\npropriety in matters of trade, though not in the same acceptation as it\ngenerally receives in common affairs; and, secondly, to let the\ntradesman see how deeply the honour, that is, the credit of trade, is\nconcerned in the punctual payment of bills of exchange, and the like of\npromissory notes; for in point of credit there is no difference, though\nin matter of form there is.\nThere are a great many variations in the drawing bills from foreign\ncountries, according as the customs and usages of merchants direct, and\naccording as the coins and rates of exchange differ, and according as\nthe same terms are differently understood in several places; as the word\n_usance_, and _two usance,_ which is a term for the number of days given\nfor payment, after the date of the bill; and though this is a thing\nparticularly relating to merchants, and to foreign commerce, yet as the\nnature of bills of exchange is pretty general, and that sometimes an\ninland tradesman, especially in seaport towns, may be obliged to take\nforeign accepted bills in payment for their goods; or if they have money\nto spare (as sometimes it is an inland tradesman's good luck to have),\nmay be asked to discount such bills--I say, on this account, and that\nthey may know the value of a foreign bill when they see it, and how far\nit has to run, before it has to be demanded, I think it not foreign to\nthe case before me, to give them the following account:--\n1. As to the times of payment of foreign bills of exchange, and the\nterms of art ordinarily used by merchants in drawing, and expressed in\nthe said bills: the times of payment are, as above, either--\n(1.) At sight; which is to be understood, not the day it is presented,\nbut three days (called days of grace) after the bill is accepted: (2.)\nusance: (3.) two usance.[47]\nUsance between London and all the towns in the States Generals'\ndominions, and also in the provinces now called the Austrian Netherlands\n[Belgium], is one month. And two usance is two months; reckoning not\nfrom the acceptance of the bill, but from the date of it. Usance between\nLondon and Hamburgh is two months, Venice is three months; and double\nusance, or two usance, is double that time. Usance payable at Florence\nor Leghorn, is two months; but from thence payable at London, usance is\nthree months. Usance from London to Rouen or Paris, is one month; but\nthey generally draw at a certain number of days, usually twenty-one\ndays' sight. Usance from London to Seville, is two months; as likewise\nbetween London and Lisbon, and Oporto, to or from. Usance from Genoa to\nRome is payable at Rome ten days after sight. Usance between Antwerp and\nGenoa, Naples or Messina, is two months, whether to or from. Usance from\nAntwerp or Amsterdam, payable at Venice, is two months, payable in bank.\nThere are abundance of niceties in the accepting and paying of bills of\nexchange, especially foreign bills, which I think needless to enter upon\nhere; but this I think I should not omit, namely--\nThat if a man pays a bill of exchange before it is due, though he had\naccepted it, if the man to whom it was payable proves a bankrupt after\nhe has received the money, and yet before the bill becomes due, the\nperson who voluntarily paid the money before it was due, shall be liable\nto pay it again to the remitter; for as the remitter delivered his money\nto the drawer, in order to have it paid again to such person as he\nshould order, it is, and ought to be, in his power to divert the payment\nby altering the bill, and make it payable to any other person whom he\nthinks fit, during all the time between the acceptance and the day of\npayment.\nThis has been controverted, I know, in some cases, but I have always\nfound, that by the most experienced merchants, and especially in places\nof the greatest business abroad, it was always given in favour of the\nremitter, namely, that the right of guiding the payment is in him, all\nthe time the bill is running; and no bill can or ought to be paid before\nit is due, without the declared assent of the remitter, signified under\nhis hand, and attested by a public notary. There are, I say, abundance\nof niceties in the matter of foreign exchanges, and in the manner of\ndrawing, accepting, and protesting bills; but as I am now speaking with,\nand have confined my discourse in this work to, the inland tradesmen of\nEngland, I think it would be as unprofitable to them to meddle with\nthis, as it would be difficult to them to understand it.[48]\nI return, therefore, to the subject in hand, as well as to the people to\nwhom I have all along directed my discourse.\nThough the inland tradesmen do not, and need not, acquaint themselves\nwith the manner of foreign exchanges, yet there is a great deal of\nbusiness done by exchange among ourselves, and at home, and in which our\ninland trade is chiefly concerned; and as this is the reason why I speak\nso much, and repeat it so often to the tradesman for whose instruction I\nam writing, that he should maintain the credit of his bills, so it may\nnot be amiss to give the tradesman some directions concerning such\nbills.\nHe is to consider, that, in general, bills pass through a number of\nhands, by indorsation from one to another, and that if the bill comes\nto be protested afterwards and returned, it goes back again through all\nthose hands with this mark of the tradesman's disgrace upon it, namely,\nthat it has been accepted, but that the man who accepted it is not able\nto pay it, than which nothing can expose the tradesman more.\nHe is to consider that the grand characteristic of a tradesman, and by\nwhich his credit is rated, is this of paying his bills well or ill. If\nany man goes to the neighbours or dealers of a tradesman to inquire of\nhis credit, or his fame in business, which is often done upon almost\nevery extraordinary occasion, the first question is, 'How does he pay\nhis bills?' As when we go to a master or mistress to inquire the\ncharacter of a maid-servant, one of the first questions generally is of\nher probity, 'Is she honest?' so here, if you would be able to judge of\nthe man, your first question is, 'What for a paymaster is he? How does\nhe pay his bills?'--strongly intimating, and, indeed, very reasonably,\nthat if he has any credit, or any regard to his credit, he will be sure\nto pay his bills well; and if he does not pay his bills well, he cannot\nbe sound at bottom, because he would never suffer a slur there, if it\nwere possible for him to avoid it. On the other hand, if a tradesman\npays his bills punctually, let whatever other slur be upon his\nreputation, his credit will hold good. I knew a man in the city, who\nupon all occasions of business issued promissory notes, or notes under\nhis hand, at such or such time, and it was for an immense sum of money\nthat he gave out such notes; so that they became frequent in trade, and\nat length people began to carry them about to discount, which lessened\nthe gentleman so much, though he was really a man of substance, that his\nbills went at last at twenty per cent, discount or more; and yet this\nman maintained his credit by this, that though he would always take as\nmuch time as he could get in these notes, yet when they came due they\nwere always punctually paid to a day; no man came twice for his money.\nThis was a trying case, for though upon the multitude of his notes that\nwere out, and by reason of the large discount given upon them, his\ncredit at first suffered exceedingly, and men began to talk very\ndubiously of him, yet upon the punctual discharge of them when due, it\nbegan presently to be taken notice of, and said openly how well he paid\nhis notes; upon which presently the rate of his discount fell, and in a\nshort time all his notes were at _par_; so that punctual payment, in\nspite of rumour, and of a rumour not so ill grounded as rumours\ngenerally are, prevailed and established the credit of the person, who\nwas indeed rich at bottom, but might have found it hard enough to have\nstood it, if, as his bills had a high discount upon them, they had been\nill paid too. All which confirms what I have hitherto alleged, namely,\nof how much concern it is for a tradesman to pay his bills and\npromissory notes very punctually.\nI might argue here how much it is his interest to do so, and how it\nenables him to coin as many bills as he pleases--in short, a man whose\nnotes are currently paid, and the credit of whose bills is established\nby their being punctually paid, has an infinite advantage in trade; he\nis a bank to himself; he can buy what bargains he pleases; no advantage\nin business offers but he can grasp at it, for his notes are current as\nanother man's cash; if he buys at time in the country, he has nothing to\ndo but to order them to draw for the money when it is due, and he gains\nall the time given in the bills into the bargain.\nIf he knows what he buys, and how to put it off, he buys a thousand\npounds' worth of goods at once, sells them for less time than he buys\nat, and pays them with their own money. I might swell this discourse to\na volume by itself, to set out the particular profit that such a man may\nmake of his credit, and how he can raise what sums he will, by buying\ngoods, and by ordering the people whom he is to pay in the country, to\ndraw bills on him. Nor is it any loss to those he buys of, for as all\nthe remitters of money know his bills, and they are currently paid, they\nnever scruple delivering their money upon his bills, so that the\ncountryman or manufacturer is effectually supplied, and the time given\nin the bill is the property of the current dealer on whom they are\ndrawn.\nBut, then, let me add a caution here for the best of tradesmen not to\nneglect--namely, as the tradesman should take care to pay his bills and\nnotes currently, so, that he may do it, he must be careful what notes he\nissues out, and how he suffers others to draw on him. He that is careful\nof his reputation in business, will also be cautious not to let any man\nhe deals with over draw him, or draw upon him before the money drawn for\nhis due. And as to notes promissory, or under his hand, he is careful\nnot to give out such notes but on good occasions, and where he has the\neffects in his hand to answer them; this keeps his cash whole, and\npreserves his ability of performing and punctually paying when the notes\nbecome due; and the want of this caution has ruined the reputation of a\ntradesman many times, when he might otherwise have preserved himself in\nas good credit and condition as other men.\nAll these cautions are made thus needful on account of that one useful\nmaxim, that the tradesman's _all_ depends upon his punctual complying\nwith the payment of his bills.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[46] [By factors, Defoe seems to mean the class of persons whom we now\nname commission-agents.]\n[47] [All bills and promissory notes, inland or foreign, payable in this\ncountry, are allowed three days of grace beyond the actual period\nexpressed upon them; thus, a bill drawn at thirty days after date, is\npayable only on the thirty-third day. If bills be not presented for\npayment on the last day of grace, they cannot be protested, and\nconsitute only an evidence of the debt for legal recovery. If the last\nday of grace be a Sunday, the bill is presentible on the Saturday\nprevious.]\n[48] [In consequence of the great extension of commerce since the time\nof Defoe, a short explanation of the principle and practice of drawing\nforeign bills of exchange now seems necessary. Foreign bills of exchange\nare used, in order to avoid the necessity of transmitting actual money\nfrom one country to another. A merchant, for instance, in Nova Scotia,\nis owing \u00a3100 to a manufacturer in Glasgow: he seeks out some one who is\na creditor to that amount to some person in Britain; we shall say he\nfinds a captain in the army who wishes to draw \u00a3100 from his agent in\nLondon. To this captain the Nova Scotia merchant pays \u00a3100, and gets his\norder or bill on the London agent, which bill he sends to the\nmanufacturer in Glasgow, and the manufacturer transmits the bill to\nLondon for payment; any banker, indeed, will give him the money for it,\ndeducting a small commission. Thus two debts are liquidated, without the\ntransmission of a farthing in money. The demand for bills in foreign\ncountries to send to Great Britain, has the effect of raising them to a\npremium, which is called the rate of exchange, and is a burden which\nfalls on the purchaser of the bill. Foreign bills of exchange drawn on\nparties in Great Britain, have expressed upon them the number of days\nafter sight at which they are to be payable. Thus, a merchant on\nreceiving a foreign bill drawn at 'thirty days after sight,' hastens to\nget it 'sighted,' or shown to the party on whom it is drawn, and that\nparty accepts it, at the same time marking the date of doing so. The\nbill is then complete and negociable, and is presented for payment to\nthe acceptor at the end of the time specified, allowing the usual three\ndays of grace. Should the bill not be accepted on being 'sighted,' it is\na dishonoured bill, and is returned with a legal protest to the foreign\ncorrespondent. To avert, as far as possible, the loss of foreign bills\nby shipwreck, a set of three bills is drawn for each transaction, called\nfirst, second, and third, of the same tenor. For example: 'Thirty days\nafter sight pay this my first bill of exchange, for the sum of \u00a3100\nsterling; second and third of the same tenor being unpaid.' This first\nbill is first sent, and by next conveyance the second is sent. Should\nthe first arrive safely, the second, on making its appearance, is\ndestroyed. The third is retained by the foreign correspondent till he\nhear whether the former two have arrived at their destination, and is\nsent only if they have been lost. On receiving whichever comes first, it\nis the duty of the receiver to communicate intelligence of the fact to\nthe sender.]", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Complete English Tradesman (1839 ed.)\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "The\nLife and Adventures\nof\nRobinson Crusoe\nBy\nDaniel Defoe\n_With Illustrations by H. M. Brock_\nLondon\nSeeley, Service & Co. Limited\n38 Great Russell Street\nContents\n CHAPTER I\u2014START IN LIFE\n CHAPTER II\u2014SLAVERY AND ESCAPE\n CHAPTER III\u2014WRECKED ON A DESERT ISLAND\n CHAPTER IV\u2014FIRST WEEKS ON THE ISLAND\n CHAPTER V\u2014BUILDS A HOUSE\u2014THE JOURNAL\n CHAPTER VI\u2014ILL AND CONSCIENCE-STRICKEN\n CHAPTER VII\u2014AGRICULTURAL EXPERIENCE\n CHAPTER VIII\u2014SURVEYS HIS POSITION\n CHAPTER IX\u2014A BOAT\n CHAPTER X\u2014TAMES GOATS\n CHAPTER XI\u2014FINDS PRINT OF MAN\u2019S FOOT ON THE SAND\n CHAPTER XII\u2014A CAVE RETREAT\n CHAPTER XIII\u2014WRECK OF A SPANISH SHIP\n CHAPTER XIV\u2014A DREAM REALISED\n CHAPTER XV\u2014FRIDAY\u2019S EDUCATION\n CHAPTER XVI\u2014RESCUE OF PRISONERS FROM CANNIBALS\n CHAPTER XVII\u2014VISIT OF MUTINEERS\n CHAPTER XVIII\u2014THE SHIP RECOVERED\n CHAPTER XIX\u2014RETURN TO ENGLAND\n CHAPTER XX\u2014FIGHT BETWEEN FRIDAY AND A BEAR\nCHAPTER I. START IN LIFE\nI was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family,\nthough not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who\nsettled first at Hull. He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving\noff his trade, lived afterwards at York, from whence he had married my\nmother, whose relations were named Robinson, a very good family in that\ncountry, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but, by the\nusual corruption of words in England, we are now called\u2014nay we call\nourselves and write our name\u2014Crusoe; and so my companions always called\nme.\nI had two elder brothers, one of whom was lieutenant-colonel to an\nEnglish regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous\nColonel Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near Dunkirk against the\nSpaniards. What became of my second brother I never knew, any more than\nmy father or mother knew what became of me.\nBeing the third son of the family and not bred to any trade, my head\nbegan to be filled very early with rambling thoughts. My father, who\nwas very ancient, had given me a competent share of learning, as far as\nhouse-education and a country free school generally go, and designed me\nfor the law; but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea;\nand my inclination to this led me so strongly against the will, nay,\nthe commands of my father, and against all the entreaties and\npersuasions of my mother and other friends, that there seemed to be\nsomething fatal in that propensity of nature, tending directly to the\nlife of misery which was to befall me.\nMy father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel\nagainst what he foresaw was my design. He called me one morning into\nhis chamber, where he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very\nwarmly with me upon this subject. He asked me what reasons, more than a\nmere wandering inclination, I had for leaving father\u2019s house and my\nnative country, where I might be well introduced, and had a prospect of\nraising my fortune by application and industry, with a life of ease and\npleasure. He told me it was men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or\nof aspiring, superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon\nadventures, to rise by enterprise, and make themselves famous in\nundertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were\nall either too far above me or too far below me; that mine was the\nmiddle state, or what might be called the upper station of low life,\nwhich he had found, by long experience, was the best state in the\nworld, the most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries\nand hardships, the labour and sufferings of the mechanic part of\nmankind, and not embarrassed with the pride, luxury, ambition, and envy\nof the upper part of mankind. He told me I might judge of the happiness\nof this state by this one thing\u2014viz. that this was the state of life\nwhich all other people envied; that kings have frequently lamented the\nmiserable consequence of being born to great things, and wished they\nhad been placed in the middle of the two extremes, between the mean and\nthe great; that the wise man gave his testimony to this, as the\nstandard of felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty nor\nriches.\nHe bade me observe it, and I should always find that the calamities of\nlife were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind, but that\nthe middle station had the fewest disasters, and was not exposed to so\nmany vicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind; nay, they\nwere not subjected to so many distempers and uneasinesses, either of\nbody or mind, as those were who, by vicious living, luxury, and\nextravagances on the one hand, or by hard labour, want of necessaries,\nand mean or insufficient diet on the other hand, bring distemper upon\nthemselves by the natural consequences of their way of living; that the\nmiddle station of life was calculated for all kind of virtue and all\nkind of enjoyments; that peace and plenty were the handmaids of a\nmiddle fortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health,\nsociety, all agreeable diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were\nthe blessings attending the middle station of life; that this way men\nwent silently and smoothly through the world, and comfortably out of\nit, not embarrassed with the labours of the hands or of the head, not\nsold to a life of slavery for daily bread, nor harassed with perplexed\ncircumstances, which rob the soul of peace and the body of rest, nor\nenraged with the passion of envy, or the secret burning lust of\nambition for great things; but, in easy circumstances, sliding gently\nthrough the world, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living, without\nthe bitter; feeling that they are happy, and learning by every day\u2019s\nexperience to know it more sensibly.\nAfter this he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate\nmanner, not to play the young man, nor to precipitate myself into\nmiseries which nature, and the station of life I was born in, seemed to\nhave provided against; that I was under no necessity of seeking my\nbread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly\ninto the station of life which he had just been recommending to me; and\nthat if I was not very easy and happy in the world, it must be my mere\nfate or fault that must hinder it; and that he should have nothing to\nanswer for, having thus discharged his duty in warning me against\nmeasures which he knew would be to my hurt; in a word, that as he would\ndo very kind things for me if I would stay and settle at home as he\ndirected, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes as to\ngive me any encouragement to go away; and to close all, he told me I\nhad my elder brother for an example, to whom he had used the same\nearnest persuasions to keep him from going into the Low Country wars,\nbut could not prevail, his young desires prompting him to run into the\narmy, where he was killed; and though he said he would not cease to\npray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if I did take this\nfoolish step, God would not bless me, and I should have leisure\nhereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel when there might\nbe none to assist in my recovery.\nI observed in this last part of his discourse, which was truly\nprophetic, though I suppose my father did not know it to be so\nhimself\u2014I say, I observed the tears run down his face very plentifully,\nespecially when he spoke of my brother who was killed: and that when he\nspoke of my having leisure to repent, and none to assist me, he was so\nmoved that he broke off the discourse, and told me his heart was so\nfull he could say no more to me.\nI was sincerely affected with this discourse, and, indeed, who could be\notherwise? and I resolved not to think of going abroad any more, but to\nsettle at home according to my father\u2019s desire. But alas! a few days\nwore it all off; and, in short, to prevent any of my father\u2019s further\nimportunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to run quite away from\nhim. However, I did not act quite so hastily as the first heat of my\nresolution prompted; but I took my mother at a time when I thought her\na little more pleasant than ordinary, and told her that my thoughts\nwere so entirely bent upon seeing the world that I should never settle\nto anything with resolution enough to go through with it, and my father\nhad better give me his consent than force me to go without it; that I\nwas now eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice to a\ntrade or clerk to an attorney; that I was sure if I did I should never\nserve out my time, but I should certainly run away from my master\nbefore my time was out, and go to sea; and if she would speak to my\nfather to let me go one voyage abroad, if I came home again, and did\nnot like it, I would go no more; and I would promise, by a double\ndiligence, to recover the time that I had lost.\nThis put my mother into a great passion; she told me she knew it would\nbe to no purpose to speak to my father upon any such subject; that he\nknew too well what was my interest to give his consent to anything so\nmuch for my hurt; and that she wondered how I could think of any such\nthing after the discourse I had had with my father, and such kind and\ntender expressions as she knew my father had used to me; and that, in\nshort, if I would ruin myself, there was no help for me; but I might\ndepend I should never have their consent to it; that for her part she\nwould not have so much hand in my destruction; and I should never have\nit to say that my mother was willing when my father was not.\nThough my mother refused to move it to my father, yet I heard\nafterwards that she reported all the discourse to him, and that my\nfather, after showing a great concern at it, said to her, with a sigh,\n\u201cThat boy might be happy if he would stay at home; but if he goes\nabroad, he will be the most miserable wretch that ever was born: I can\ngive no consent to it.\u201d\nIt was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose, though, in\nthe meantime, I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling\nto business, and frequently expostulated with my father and mother\nabout their being so positively determined against what they knew my\ninclinations prompted me to. But being one day at Hull, where I went\ncasually, and without any purpose of making an elopement at that time;\nbut, I say, being there, and one of my companions being about to sail\nto London in his father\u2019s ship, and prompting me to go with them with\nthe common allurement of seafaring men, that it should cost me nothing\nfor my passage, I consulted neither father nor mother any more, nor so\nmuch as sent them word of it; but leaving them to hear of it as they\nmight, without asking God\u2019s blessing or my father\u2019s, without any\nconsideration of circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God\nknows, on the 1st of September 1651, I went on board a ship bound for\nLondon. Never any young adventurer\u2019s misfortunes, I believe, began\nsooner, or continued longer than mine. The ship was no sooner out of\nthe Humber than the wind began to blow and the sea to rise in a most\nfrightful manner; and, as I had never been at sea before, I was most\ninexpressibly sick in body and terrified in mind. I began now seriously\nto reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was overtaken by the\njudgment of Heaven for my wicked leaving my father\u2019s house, and\nabandoning my duty. All the good counsels of my parents, my father\u2019s\ntears and my mother\u2019s entreaties, came now fresh into my mind; and my\nconscience, which was not yet come to the pitch of hardness to which it\nhas since, reproached me with the contempt of advice, and the breach of\nmy duty to God and my father.\nAll this while the storm increased, and the sea went very high, though\nnothing like what I have seen many times since; no, nor what I saw a\nfew days after; but it was enough to affect me then, who was but a\nyoung sailor, and had never known anything of the matter. I expected\nevery wave would have swallowed us up, and that every time the ship\nfell down, as I thought it did, in the trough or hollow of the sea, we\nshould never rise more; in this agony of mind, I made many vows and\nresolutions that if it would please God to spare my life in this one\nvoyage, if ever I got once my foot upon dry land again, I would go\ndirectly home to my father, and never set it into a ship again while I\nlived; that I would take his advice, and never run myself into such\nmiseries as these any more. Now I saw plainly the goodness of his\nobservations about the middle station of life, how easy, how\ncomfortably he had lived all his days, and never had been exposed to\ntempests at sea or troubles on shore; and I resolved that I would, like\na true repenting prodigal, go home to my father.\nThese wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the storm lasted,\nand indeed some time after; but the next day the wind was abated, and\nthe sea calmer, and I began to be a little inured to it; however, I was\nvery grave for all that day, being also a little sea-sick still; but\ntowards night the weather cleared up, the wind was quite over, and a\ncharming fine evening followed; the sun went down perfectly clear, and\nrose so the next morning; and having little or no wind, and a smooth\nsea, the sun shining upon it, the sight was, as I thought, the most\ndelightful that ever I saw.\nI had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick, but very\ncheerful, looking with wonder upon the sea that was so rough and\nterrible the day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in so\nlittle a time after. And now, lest my good resolutions should continue,\nmy companion, who had enticed me away, comes to me; \u201cWell, Bob,\u201d says\nhe, clapping me upon the shoulder, \u201chow do you do after it? I warrant\nyou were frighted, wer\u2019n\u2019t you, last night, when it blew but a capful\nof wind?\u201d \u201cA capful d\u2019you call it?\u201d said I; \u201c\u2019twas a terrible storm.\u201d\n\u201cA storm, you fool you,\u201d replies he; \u201cdo you call that a storm? why, it\nwas nothing at all; give us but a good ship and sea-room, and we think\nnothing of such a squall of wind as that; but you\u2019re but a fresh-water\nsailor, Bob. Come, let us make a bowl of punch, and we\u2019ll forget all\nthat; d\u2019ye see what charming weather \u2019tis now?\u201d To make short this sad\npart of my story, we went the way of all sailors; the punch was made\nand I was made half drunk with it: and in that one night\u2019s wickedness I\ndrowned all my repentance, all my reflections upon my past conduct, all\nmy resolutions for the future. In a word, as the sea was returned to\nits smoothness of surface and settled calmness by the abatement of that\nstorm, so the hurry of my thoughts being over, my fears and\napprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being forgotten, and the\ncurrent of my former desires returned, I entirely forgot the vows and\npromises that I made in my distress. I found, indeed, some intervals of\nreflection; and the serious thoughts did, as it were, endeavour to\nreturn again sometimes; but I shook them off, and roused myself from\nthem as it were from a distemper, and applying myself to drinking and\ncompany, soon mastered the return of those fits\u2014for so I called them;\nand I had in five or six days got as complete a victory over conscience\nas any young fellow that resolved not to be troubled with it could\ndesire. But I was to have another trial for it still; and Providence,\nas in such cases generally it does, resolved to leave me entirely\nwithout excuse; for if I would not take this for a deliverance, the\nnext was to be such a one as the worst and most hardened wretch among\nus would confess both the danger and the mercy of.\nThe sixth day of our being at sea we came into Yarmouth Roads; the wind\nhaving been contrary and the weather calm, we had made but little way\nsince the storm. Here we were obliged to come to an anchor, and here we\nlay, the wind continuing contrary\u2014viz. at south-west\u2014for seven or eight\ndays, during which time a great many ships from Newcastle came into the\nsame Roads, as the common harbour where the ships might wait for a wind\nfor the river.\nWe had not, however, rid here so long but we should have tided it up\nthe river, but that the wind blew too fresh, and after we had lain four\nor five days, blew very hard. However, the Roads being reckoned as good\nas a harbour, the anchorage good, and our ground-tackle very strong,\nour men were unconcerned, and not in the least apprehensive of danger,\nbut spent the time in rest and mirth, after the manner of the sea; but\nthe eighth day, in the morning, the wind increased, and we had all\nhands at work to strike our topmasts, and make everything snug and\nclose, that the ship might ride as easy as possible. By noon the sea\nwent very high indeed, and our ship rode forecastle in, shipped several\nseas, and we thought once or twice our anchor had come home; upon which\nour master ordered out the sheet-anchor, so that we rode with two\nanchors ahead, and the cables veered out to the bitter end.\nBy this time it blew a terrible storm indeed; and now I began to see\nterror and amazement in the faces even of the seamen themselves. The\nmaster, though vigilant in the business of preserving the ship, yet as\nhe went in and out of his cabin by me, I could hear him softly to\nhimself say, several times, \u201cLord be merciful to us! we shall be all\nlost! we shall be all undone!\u201d and the like. During these first hurries\nI was stupid, lying still in my cabin, which was in the steerage, and\ncannot describe my temper: I could ill resume the first penitence which\nI had so apparently trampled upon and hardened myself against: I\nthought the bitterness of death had been past, and that this would be\nnothing like the first; but when the master himself came by me, as I\nsaid just now, and said we should be all lost, I was dreadfully\nfrighted. I got up out of my cabin and looked out; but such a dismal\nsight I never saw: the sea ran mountains high, and broke upon us every\nthree or four minutes; when I could look about, I could see nothing but\ndistress round us; two ships that rode near us, we found, had cut their\nmasts by the board, being deep laden; and our men cried out that a ship\nwhich rode about a mile ahead of us was foundered. Two more ships,\nbeing driven from their anchors, were run out of the Roads to sea, at\nall adventures, and that with not a mast standing. The light ships\nfared the best, as not so much labouring in the sea; but two or three\nof them drove, and came close by us, running away with only their\nspritsail out before the wind.\nTowards evening the mate and boatswain begged the master of our ship to\nlet them cut away the fore-mast, which he was very unwilling to do; but\nthe boatswain protesting to him that if he did not the ship would\nfounder, he consented; and when they had cut away the fore-mast, the\nmain-mast stood so loose, and shook the ship so much, they were obliged\nto cut that away also, and make a clear deck.\nAny one may judge what a condition I must be in at all this, who was\nbut a young sailor, and who had been in such a fright before at but a\nlittle. But if I can express at this distance the thoughts I had about\nme at that time, I was in tenfold more horror of mind upon account of\nmy former convictions, and the having returned from them to the\nresolutions I had wickedly taken at first, than I was at death itself;\nand these, added to the terror of the storm, put me into such a\ncondition that I can by no words describe it. But the worst was not\ncome yet; the storm continued with such fury that the seamen themselves\nacknowledged they had never seen a worse. We had a good ship, but she\nwas deep laden, and wallowed in the sea, so that the seamen every now\nand then cried out she would founder. It was my advantage in one\nrespect, that I did not know what they meant by _founder_ till I\ninquired. However, the storm was so violent that I saw, what is not\noften seen, the master, the boatswain, and some others more sensible\nthan the rest, at their prayers, and expecting every moment when the\nship would go to the bottom. In the middle of the night, and under all\nthe rest of our distresses, one of the men that had been down to see\ncried out we had sprung a leak; another said there was four feet water\nin the hold. Then all hands were called to the pump. At that word, my\nheart, as I thought, died within me: and I fell backwards upon the side\nof my bed where I sat, into the cabin. However, the men roused me, and\ntold me that I, that was able to do nothing before, was as well able to\npump as another; at which I stirred up and went to the pump, and worked\nvery heartily. While this was doing the master, seeing some light\ncolliers, who, not able to ride out the storm were obliged to slip and\nrun away to sea, and would come near us, ordered to fire a gun as a\nsignal of distress. I, who knew nothing what they meant, thought the\nship had broken, or some dreadful thing happened. In a word, I was so\nsurprised that I fell down in a swoon. As this was a time when\neverybody had his own life to think of, nobody minded me, or what was\nbecome of me; but another man stepped up to the pump, and thrusting me\naside with his foot, let me lie, thinking I had been dead; and it was a\ngreat while before I came to myself.\nWe worked on; but the water increasing in the hold, it was apparent\nthat the ship would founder; and though the storm began to abate a\nlittle, yet it was not possible she could swim till we might run into\nany port; so the master continued firing guns for help; and a light\nship, who had rid it out just ahead of us, ventured a boat out to help\nus. It was with the utmost hazard the boat came near us; but it was\nimpossible for us to get on board, or for the boat to lie near the\nship\u2019s side, till at last the men rowing very heartily, and venturing\ntheir lives to save ours, our men cast them a rope over the stern with\na buoy to it, and then veered it out a great length, which they, after\nmuch labour and hazard, took hold of, and we hauled them close under\nour stern, and got all into their boat. It was to no purpose for them\nor us, after we were in the boat, to think of reaching their own ship;\nso all agreed to let her drive, and only to pull her in towards shore\nas much as we could; and our master promised them, that if the boat was\nstaved upon shore, he would make it good to their master: so partly\nrowing and partly driving, our boat went away to the northward, sloping\ntowards the shore almost as far as Winterton Ness.\nWe were not much more than a quarter of an hour out of our ship till we\nsaw her sink, and then I understood for the first time what was meant\nby a ship foundering in the sea. I must acknowledge I had hardly eyes\nto look up when the seamen told me she was sinking; for from the moment\nthat they rather put me into the boat than that I might be said to go\nin, my heart was, as it were, dead within me, partly with fright,\npartly with horror of mind, and the thoughts of what was yet before me.\nWhile we were in this condition\u2014the men yet labouring at the oar to\nbring the boat near the shore\u2014we could see (when, our boat mounting the\nwaves, we were able to see the shore) a great many people running along\nthe strand to assist us when we should come near; but we made but slow\nway towards the shore; nor were we able to reach the shore till, being\npast the lighthouse at Winterton, the shore falls off to the westward\ntowards Cromer, and so the land broke off a little the violence of the\nwind. Here we got in, and though not without much difficulty, got all\nsafe on shore, and walked afterwards on foot to Yarmouth, where, as\nunfortunate men, we were used with great humanity, as well by the\nmagistrates of the town, who assigned us good quarters, as by\nparticular merchants and owners of ships, and had money given us\nsufficient to carry us either to London or back to Hull as we thought\nfit.\nHad I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull, and have gone home,\nI had been happy, and my father, as in our blessed Saviour\u2019s parable,\nhad even killed the fatted calf for me; for hearing the ship I went\naway in was cast away in Yarmouth Roads, it was a great while before he\nhad any assurances that I was not drowned.\nBut my ill fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy that nothing could\nresist; and though I had several times loud calls from my reason and my\nmore composed judgment to go home, yet I had no power to do it. I know\nnot what to call this, nor will I urge that it is a secret overruling\ndecree, that hurries us on to be the instruments of our own\ndestruction, even though it be before us, and that we rush upon it with\nour eyes open. Certainly, nothing but some such decreed unavoidable\nmisery, which it was impossible for me to escape, could have pushed me\nforward against the calm reasonings and persuasions of my most retired\nthoughts, and against two such visible instructions as I had met with\nin my first attempt.\nMy comrade, who had helped to harden me before, and who was the\nmaster\u2019s son, was now less forward than I. The first time he spoke to\nme after we were at Yarmouth, which was not till two or three days, for\nwe were separated in the town to several quarters; I say, the first\ntime he saw me, it appeared his tone was altered; and, looking very\nmelancholy, and shaking his head, he asked me how I did, and telling\nhis father who I was, and how I had come this voyage only for a trial,\nin order to go further abroad, his father, turning to me with a very\ngrave and concerned tone \u201cYoung man,\u201d says he, \u201cyou ought never to go\nto sea any more; you ought to take this for a plain and visible token\nthat you are not to be a seafaring man.\u201d \u201cWhy, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cwill you\ngo to sea no more?\u201d \u201cThat is another case,\u201d said he; \u201cit is my calling,\nand therefore my duty; but as you made this voyage on trial, you see\nwhat a taste Heaven has given you of what you are to expect if you\npersist. Perhaps this has all befallen us on your account, like Jonah\nin the ship of Tarshish. Pray,\u201d continues he, \u201cwhat are you; and on\nwhat account did you go to sea?\u201d Upon that I told him some of my story;\nat the end of which he burst out into a strange kind of passion: \u201cWhat\nhad I done,\u201d says he, \u201cthat such an unhappy wretch should come into my\nship? I would not set my foot in the same ship with thee again for a\nthousand pounds.\u201d This indeed was, as I said, an excursion of his\nspirits, which were yet agitated by the sense of his loss, and was\nfarther than he could have authority to go. However, he afterwards\ntalked very gravely to me, exhorting me to go back to my father, and\nnot tempt Providence to my ruin, telling me I might see a visible hand\nof Heaven against me. \u201cAnd, young man,\u201d said he, \u201cdepend upon it, if\nyou do not go back, wherever you go, you will meet with nothing but\ndisasters and disappointments, till your father\u2019s words are fulfilled\nupon you.\u201d\nWe parted soon after; for I made him little answer, and I saw him no\nmore; which way he went I knew not. As for me, having some money in my\npocket, I travelled to London by land; and there, as well as on the\nroad, had many struggles with myself what course of life I should take,\nand whether I should go home or to sea.\nAs to going home, shame opposed the best motions that offered to my\nthoughts, and it immediately occurred to me how I should be laughed at\namong the neighbours, and should be ashamed to see, not my father and\nmother only, but even everybody else; from whence I have since often\nobserved, how incongruous and irrational the common temper of mankind\nis, especially of youth, to that reason which ought to guide them in\nsuch cases\u2014viz. that they are not ashamed to sin, and yet are ashamed\nto repent; not ashamed of the action for which they ought justly to be\nesteemed fools, but are ashamed of the returning, which only can make\nthem be esteemed wise men.\nIn this state of life, however, I remained some time, uncertain what\nmeasures to take, and what course of life to lead. An irresistible\nreluctance continued to going home; and as I stayed away a while, the\nremembrance of the distress I had been in wore off, and as that abated,\nthe little motion I had in my desires to return wore off with it, till\nat last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it, and looked out for a\nvoyage.\nCHAPTER II. SLAVERY AND ESCAPE\nThat evil influence which carried me first away from my father\u2019s\nhouse\u2014which hurried me into the wild and indigested notion of raising\nmy fortune, and that impressed those conceits so forcibly upon me as to\nmake me deaf to all good advice, and to the entreaties and even the\ncommands of my father\u2014I say, the same influence, whatever it was,\npresented the most unfortunate of all enterprises to my view; and I\nwent on board a vessel bound to the coast of Africa; or, as our sailors\nvulgarly called it, a voyage to Guinea.\nIt was my great misfortune that in all these adventures I did not ship\nmyself as a sailor; when, though I might indeed have worked a little\nharder than ordinary, yet at the same time I should have learnt the\nduty and office of a fore-mast man, and in time might have qualified\nmyself for a mate or lieutenant, if not for a master. But as it was\nalways my fate to choose for the worse, so I did here; for having money\nin my pocket and good clothes upon my back, I would always go on board\nin the habit of a gentleman; and so I neither had any business in the\nship, nor learned to do any.\nIt was my lot first of all to fall into pretty good company in London,\nwhich does not always happen to such loose and misguided young fellows\nas I then was; the devil generally not omitting to lay some snare for\nthem very early; but it was not so with me. I first got acquainted with\nthe master of a ship who had been on the coast of Guinea; and who,\nhaving had very good success there, was resolved to go again. This\ncaptain taking a fancy to my conversation, which was not at all\ndisagreeable at that time, hearing me say I had a mind to see the\nworld, told me if I would go the voyage with him I should be at no\nexpense; I should be his messmate and his companion; and if I could\ncarry anything with me, I should have all the advantage of it that the\ntrade would admit; and perhaps I might meet with some encouragement.\nI embraced the offer; and entering into a strict friendship with this\ncaptain, who was an honest, plain-dealing man, I went the voyage with\nhim, and carried a small adventure with me, which, by the disinterested\nhonesty of my friend the captain, I increased very considerably; for I\ncarried about \u00a340 in such toys and trifles as the captain directed me\nto buy. These \u00a340 I had mustered together by the assistance of some of\nmy relations whom I corresponded with; and who, I believe, got my\nfather, or at least my mother, to contribute so much as that to my\nfirst adventure.\nThis was the only voyage which I may say was successful in all my\nadventures, which I owe to the integrity and honesty of my friend the\ncaptain; under whom also I got a competent knowledge of the mathematics\nand the rules of navigation, learned how to keep an account of the\nship\u2019s course, take an observation, and, in short, to understand some\nthings that were needful to be understood by a sailor; for, as he took\ndelight to instruct me, I took delight to learn; and, in a word, this\nvoyage made me both a sailor and a merchant; for I brought home five\npounds nine ounces of gold-dust for my adventure, which yielded me in\nLondon, at my return, almost \u00a3300; and this filled me with those\naspiring thoughts which have since so completed my ruin.\nYet even in this voyage I had my misfortunes too; particularly, that I\nwas continually sick, being thrown into a violent calenture by the\nexcessive heat of the climate; our principal trading being upon the\ncoast, from latitude of 15 degrees north even to the line itself.\nI was now set up for a Guinea trader; and my friend, to my great\nmisfortune, dying soon after his arrival, I resolved to go the same\nvoyage again, and I embarked in the same vessel with one who was his\nmate in the former voyage, and had now got the command of the ship.\nThis was the unhappiest voyage that ever man made; for though I did not\ncarry quite \u00a3100 of my new-gained wealth, so that I had \u00a3200 left,\nwhich I had lodged with my friend\u2019s widow, who was very just to me, yet\nI fell into terrible misfortunes. The first was this: our ship making\nher course towards the Canary Islands, or rather between those islands\nand the African shore, was surprised in the grey of the morning by a\nTurkish rover of Sallee, who gave chase to us with all the sail she\ncould make. We crowded also as much canvas as our yards would spread,\nor our masts carry, to get clear; but finding the pirate gained upon\nus, and would certainly come up with us in a few hours, we prepared to\nfight; our ship having twelve guns, and the rogue eighteen. About three\nin the afternoon he came up with us, and bringing to, by mistake, just\nathwart our quarter, instead of athwart our stern, as he intended, we\nbrought eight of our guns to bear on that side, and poured in a\nbroadside upon him, which made him sheer off again, after returning our\nfire, and pouring in also his small shot from near two hundred men\nwhich he had on board. However, we had not a man touched, all our men\nkeeping close. He prepared to attack us again, and we to defend\nourselves. But laying us on board the next time upon our other quarter,\nhe entered sixty men upon our decks, who immediately fell to cutting\nand hacking the sails and rigging. We plied them with small shot,\nhalf-pikes, powder-chests, and such like, and cleared our deck of them\ntwice. However, to cut short this melancholy part of our story, our\nship being disabled, and three of our men killed, and eight wounded, we\nwere obliged to yield, and were carried all prisoners into Sallee, a\nport belonging to the Moors.\nThe usage I had there was not so dreadful as at first I apprehended;\nnor was I carried up the country to the emperor\u2019s court, as the rest of\nour men were, but was kept by the captain of the rover as his proper\nprize, and made his slave, being young and nimble, and fit for his\nbusiness. At this surprising change of my circumstances, from a\nmerchant to a miserable slave, I was perfectly overwhelmed; and now I\nlooked back upon my father\u2019s prophetic discourse to me, that I should\nbe miserable and have none to relieve me, which I thought was now so\neffectually brought to pass that I could not be worse; for now the hand\nof Heaven had overtaken me, and I was undone without redemption; but,\nalas! this was but a taste of the misery I was to go through, as will\nappear in the sequel of this story.\nAs my new patron, or master, had taken me home to his house, so I was\nin hopes that he would take me with him when he went to sea again,\nbelieving that it would some time or other be his fate to be taken by a\nSpanish or Portugal man-of-war; and that then I should be set at\nliberty. But this hope of mine was soon taken away; for when he went to\nsea, he left me on shore to look after his little garden, and do the\ncommon drudgery of slaves about his house; and when he came home again\nfrom his cruise, he ordered me to lie in the cabin to look after the\nship.\nHere I meditated nothing but my escape, and what method I might take to\neffect it, but found no way that had the least probability in it;\nnothing presented to make the supposition of it rational; for I had\nnobody to communicate it to that would embark with me\u2014no fellow-slave,\nno Englishman, Irishman, or Scotchman there but myself; so that for two\nyears, though I often pleased myself with the imagination, yet I never\nhad the least encouraging prospect of putting it in practice.\nAfter about two years, an odd circumstance presented itself, which put\nthe old thought of making some attempt for my liberty again in my head.\nMy patron lying at home longer than usual without fitting out his ship,\nwhich, as I heard, was for want of money, he used constantly, once or\ntwice a week, sometimes oftener if the weather was fair, to take the\nship\u2019s pinnace and go out into the road a-fishing; and as he always\ntook me and young Maresco with him to row the boat, we made him very\nmerry, and I proved very dexterous in catching fish; insomuch that\nsometimes he would send me with a Moor, one of his kinsmen, and the\nyouth\u2014the Maresco, as they called him\u2014to catch a dish of fish for him.\nIt happened one time, that going a-fishing in a calm morning, a fog\nrose so thick that, though we were not half a league from the shore, we\nlost sight of it; and rowing we knew not whither or which way, we\nlaboured all day, and all the next night; and when the morning came we\nfound we had pulled off to sea instead of pulling in for the shore; and\nthat we were at least two leagues from the shore. However, we got well\nin again, though with a great deal of labour and some danger; for the\nwind began to blow pretty fresh in the morning; but we were all very\nhungry.\nBut our patron, warned by this disaster, resolved to take more care of\nhimself for the future; and having lying by him the longboat of our\nEnglish ship that he had taken, he resolved he would not go a-fishing\nany more without a compass and some provision; so he ordered the\ncarpenter of his ship, who also was an English slave, to build a little\nstate-room, or cabin, in the middle of the long-boat, like that of a\nbarge, with a place to stand behind it to steer, and haul home the\nmain-sheet; the room before for a hand or two to stand and work the\nsails. She sailed with what we call a shoulder-of-mutton sail; and the\nboom jibed over the top of the cabin, which lay very snug and low, and\nhad in it room for him to lie, with a slave or two, and a table to eat\non, with some small lockers to put in some bottles of such liquor as he\nthought fit to drink; and his bread, rice, and coffee.\nWe went frequently out with this boat a-fishing; and as I was most\ndexterous to catch fish for him, he never went without me. It happened\nthat he had appointed to go out in this boat, either for pleasure or\nfor fish, with two or three Moors of some distinction in that place,\nand for whom he had provided extraordinarily, and had, therefore, sent\non board the boat overnight a larger store of provisions than ordinary;\nand had ordered me to get ready three fusees with powder and shot,\nwhich were on board his ship, for that they designed some sport of\nfowling as well as fishing.\nI got all things ready as he had directed, and waited the next morning\nwith the boat washed clean, her ancient and pendants out, and\neverything to accommodate his guests; when by-and-by my patron came on\nboard alone, and told me his guests had put off going from some\nbusiness that fell out, and ordered me, with the man and boy, as usual,\nto go out with the boat and catch them some fish, for that his friends\nwere to sup at his house, and commanded that as soon as I got some fish\nI should bring it home to his house; all which I prepared to do.\nThis moment my former notions of deliverance darted into my thoughts,\nfor now I found I was likely to have a little ship at my command; and\nmy master being gone, I prepared to furnish myself, not for fishing\nbusiness, but for a voyage; though I knew not, neither did I so much as\nconsider, whither I should steer\u2014anywhere to get out of that place was\nmy desire.\nMy first contrivance was to make a pretence to speak to this Moor, to\nget something for our subsistence on board; for I told him we must not\npresume to eat of our patron\u2019s bread. He said that was true; so he\nbrought a large basket of rusk or biscuit, and three jars of fresh\nwater, into the boat. I knew where my patron\u2019s case of bottles stood,\nwhich it was evident, by the make, were taken out of some English\nprize, and I conveyed them into the boat while the Moor was on shore,\nas if they had been there before for our master. I conveyed also a\ngreat lump of beeswax into the boat, which weighed about half a\nhundred-weight, with a parcel of twine or thread, a hatchet, a saw, and\na hammer, all of which were of great use to us afterwards, especially\nthe wax, to make candles. Another trick I tried upon him, which he\ninnocently came into also: his name was Ismael, which they call Muley,\nor Moely; so I called to him\u2014\u201cMoely,\u201d said I, \u201cour patron\u2019s guns are on\nboard the boat; can you not get a little powder and shot? It may be we\nmay kill some alcamies (a fowl like our curlews) for ourselves, for I\nknow he keeps the gunner\u2019s stores in the ship.\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d says he, \u201cI\u2019ll\nbring some;\u201d and accordingly he brought a great leather pouch, which\nheld a pound and a half of powder, or rather more; and another with\nshot, that had five or six pounds, with some bullets, and put all into\nthe boat. At the same time I had found some powder of my master\u2019s in\nthe great cabin, with which I filled one of the large bottles in the\ncase, which was almost empty, pouring what was in it into another; and\nthus furnished with everything needful, we sailed out of the port to\nfish. The castle, which is at the entrance of the port, knew who we\nwere, and took no notice of us; and we were not above a mile out of the\nport before we hauled in our sail and set us down to fish. The wind\nblew from the N.N.E., which was contrary to my desire, for had it blown\nsoutherly I had been sure to have made the coast of Spain, and at least\nreached to the bay of Cadiz; but my resolutions were, blow which way it\nwould, I would be gone from that horrid place where I was, and leave\nthe rest to fate.\nAfter we had fished some time and caught nothing\u2014for when I had fish on\nmy hook I would not pull them up, that he might not see them\u2014I said to\nthe Moor, \u201cThis will not do; our master will not be thus served; we\nmust stand farther off.\u201d He, thinking no harm, agreed, and being in the\nhead of the boat, set the sails; and, as I had the helm, I ran the boat\nout near a league farther, and then brought her to, as if I would fish;\nwhen, giving the boy the helm, I stepped forward to where the Moor was,\nand making as if I stooped for something behind him, I took him by\nsurprise with my arm under his waist, and tossed him clear overboard\ninto the sea. He rose immediately, for he swam like a cork, and called\nto me, begged to be taken in, told me he would go all over the world\nwith me. He swam so strong after the boat that he would have reached me\nvery quickly, there being but little wind; upon which I stepped into\nthe cabin, and fetching one of the fowling-pieces, I presented it at\nhim, and told him I had done him no hurt, and if he would be quiet I\nwould do him none. \u201cBut,\u201d said I, \u201cyou swim well enough to reach to the\nshore, and the sea is calm; make the best of your way to shore, and I\nwill do you no harm; but if you come near the boat I\u2019ll shoot you\nthrough the head, for I am resolved to have my liberty;\u201d so he turned\nhimself about, and swam for the shore, and I make no doubt but he\nreached it with ease, for he was an excellent swimmer.\nI could have been content to have taken this Moor with me, and have\ndrowned the boy, but there was no venturing to trust him. When he was\ngone, I turned to the boy, whom they called Xury, and said to him,\n\u201cXury, if you will be faithful to me, I\u2019ll make you a great man; but if\nyou will not stroke your face to be true to me\u201d\u2014that is, swear by\nMahomet and his father\u2019s beard\u2014\u201cI must throw you into the sea too.\u201d The\nboy smiled in my face, and spoke so innocently that I could not\ndistrust him, and swore to be faithful to me, and go all over the world\nwith me.\nWhile I was in view of the Moor that was swimming, I stood out directly\nto sea with the boat, rather stretching to windward, that they might\nthink me gone towards the Straits\u2019 mouth (as indeed any one that had\nbeen in their wits must have been supposed to do): for who would have\nsupposed we were sailed on to the southward, to the truly Barbarian\ncoast, where whole nations of negroes were sure to surround us with\ntheir canoes and destroy us; where we could not go on shore but we\nshould be devoured by savage beasts, or more merciless savages of human\nkind.\nBut as soon as it grew dusk in the evening, I changed my course, and\nsteered directly south and by east, bending my course a little towards\nthe east, that I might keep in with the shore; and having a fair, fresh\ngale of wind, and a smooth, quiet sea, I made such sail that I believe\nby the next day, at three o\u2019clock in the afternoon, when I first made\nthe land, I could not be less than one hundred and fifty miles south of\nSallee; quite beyond the Emperor of Morocco\u2019s dominions, or indeed of\nany other king thereabouts, for we saw no people.\nYet such was the fright I had taken of the Moors, and the dreadful\napprehensions I had of falling into their hands, that I would not stop,\nor go on shore, or come to an anchor; the wind continuing fair till I\nhad sailed in that manner five days; and then the wind shifting to the\nsouthward, I concluded also that if any of our vessels were in chase of\nme, they also would now give over; so I ventured to make to the coast,\nand came to an anchor in the mouth of a little river, I knew not what,\nnor where, neither what latitude, what country, what nation, or what\nriver. I neither saw, nor desired to see any people; the principal\nthing I wanted was fresh water. We came into this creek in the evening,\nresolving to swim on shore as soon as it was dark, and discover the\ncountry; but as soon as it was quite dark, we heard such dreadful\nnoises of the barking, roaring, and howling of wild creatures, of we\nknew not what kinds, that the poor boy was ready to die with fear, and\nbegged of me not to go on shore till day. \u201cWell, Xury,\u201d said I, \u201cthen I\nwon\u2019t; but it may be that we may see men by day, who will be as bad to\nus as those lions.\u201d \u201cThen we give them the shoot gun,\u201d says Xury,\nlaughing, \u201cmake them run wey.\u201d Such English Xury spoke by conversing\namong us slaves. However, I was glad to see the boy so cheerful, and I\ngave him a dram (out of our patron\u2019s case of bottles) to cheer him up.\nAfter all, Xury\u2019s advice was good, and I took it; we dropped our little\nanchor, and lay still all night; I say still, for we slept none; for in\ntwo or three hours we saw vast great creatures (we knew not what to\ncall them) of many sorts, come down to the sea-shore and run into the\nwater, wallowing and washing themselves for the pleasure of cooling\nthemselves; and they made such hideous howlings and yellings, that I\nnever indeed heard the like.\nXury was dreadfully frighted, and indeed so was I too; but we were both\nmore frighted when we heard one of these mighty creatures come swimming\ntowards our boat; we could not see him, but we might hear him by his\nblowing to be a monstrous huge and furious beast. Xury said it was a\nlion, and it might be so for aught I know; but poor Xury cried to me to\nweigh the anchor and row away; \u201cNo,\u201d says I, \u201cXury; we can slip our\ncable, with the buoy to it, and go off to sea; they cannot follow us\nfar.\u201d I had no sooner said so, but I perceived the creature (whatever\nit was) within two oars\u2019 length, which something surprised me; however,\nI immediately stepped to the cabin door, and taking up my gun, fired at\nhim; upon which he immediately turned about and swam towards the shore\nagain.\nBut it is impossible to describe the horrid noises, and hideous cries\nand howlings that were raised, as well upon the edge of the shore as\nhigher within the country, upon the noise or report of the gun, a thing\nI have some reason to believe those creatures had never heard before:\nthis convinced me that there was no going on shore for us in the night\non that coast, and how to venture on shore in the day was another\nquestion too; for to have fallen into the hands of any of the savages\nhad been as bad as to have fallen into the hands of the lions and\ntigers; at least we were equally apprehensive of the danger of it.\nBe that as it would, we were obliged to go on shore somewhere or other\nfor water, for we had not a pint left in the boat; when and where to\nget to it was the point. Xury said, if I would let him go on shore with\none of the jars, he would find if there was any water, and bring some\nto me. I asked him why he would go? why I should not go, and he stay in\nthe boat? The boy answered with so much affection as made me love him\never after. Says he, \u201cIf wild mans come, they eat me, you go wey.\u201d\n\u201cWell, Xury,\u201d said I, \u201cwe will both go and if the wild mans come, we\nwill kill them, they shall eat neither of us.\u201d So I gave Xury a piece\nof rusk bread to eat, and a dram out of our patron\u2019s case of bottles\nwhich I mentioned before; and we hauled the boat in as near the shore\nas we thought was proper, and so waded on shore, carrying nothing but\nour arms and two jars for water.\nI did not care to go out of sight of the boat, fearing the coming of\ncanoes with savages down the river; but the boy seeing a low place\nabout a mile up the country, rambled to it, and by-and-by I saw him\ncome running towards me. I thought he was pursued by some savage, or\nfrighted with some wild beast, and I ran forward towards him to help\nhim; but when I came nearer to him I saw something hanging over his\nshoulders, which was a creature that he had shot, like a hare, but\ndifferent in colour, and longer legs; however, we were very glad of it,\nand it was very good meat; but the great joy that poor Xury came with,\nwas to tell me he had found good water and seen no wild mans.\nBut we found afterwards that we need not take such pains for water, for\na little higher up the creek where we were we found the water fresh\nwhen the tide was out, which flowed but a little way up; so we filled\nour jars, and feasted on the hare he had killed, and prepared to go on\nour way, having seen no footsteps of any human creature in that part of\nthe country.\nAs I had been one voyage to this coast before, I knew very well that\nthe islands of the Canaries, and the Cape de Verde Islands also, lay\nnot far off from the coast. But as I had no instruments to take an\nobservation to know what latitude we were in, and not exactly knowing,\nor at least remembering, what latitude they were in, I knew not where\nto look for them, or when to stand off to sea towards them; otherwise I\nmight now easily have found some of these islands. But my hope was,\nthat if I stood along this coast till I came to that part where the\nEnglish traded, I should find some of their vessels upon their usual\ndesign of trade, that would relieve and take us in.\nBy the best of my calculation, that place where I now was must be that\ncountry which, lying between the Emperor of Morocco\u2019s dominions and the\nnegroes, lies waste and uninhabited, except by wild beasts; the negroes\nhaving abandoned it and gone farther south for fear of the Moors, and\nthe Moors not thinking it worth inhabiting by reason of its barrenness;\nand indeed, both forsaking it because of the prodigious number of\ntigers, lions, leopards, and other furious creatures which harbour\nthere; so that the Moors use it for their hunting only, where they go\nlike an army, two or three thousand men at a time; and indeed for near\na hundred miles together upon this coast we saw nothing but a waste,\nuninhabited country by day, and heard nothing but howlings and roaring\nof wild beasts by night.\nOnce or twice in the daytime I thought I saw the Pico of Teneriffe,\nbeing the high top of the Mountain Teneriffe in the Canaries, and had a\ngreat mind to venture out, in hopes of reaching thither; but having\ntried twice, I was forced in again by contrary winds, the sea also\ngoing too high for my little vessel; so, I resolved to pursue my first\ndesign, and keep along the shore.\nSeveral times I was obliged to land for fresh water, after we had left\nthis place; and once in particular, being early in morning, we came to\nan anchor under a little point of land, which was pretty high; and the\ntide beginning to flow, we lay still to go farther in. Xury, whose eyes\nwere more about him than it seems mine were, calls softly to me, and\ntells me that we had best go farther off the shore; \u201cFor,\u201d says he,\n\u201clook, yonder lies a dreadful monster on the side of that hillock, fast\nasleep.\u201d I looked where he pointed, and saw a dreadful monster indeed,\nfor it was a terrible, great lion that lay on the side of the shore,\nunder the shade of a piece of the hill that hung as it were a little\nover him. \u201cXury,\u201d says I, \u201cyou shall on shore and kill him.\u201d Xury,\nlooked frighted, and said, \u201cMe kill! he eat me at one mouth!\u201d\u2014one\nmouthful he meant. However, I said no more to the boy, but bade him lie\nstill, and I took our biggest gun, which was almost musket-bore, and\nloaded it with a good charge of powder, and with two slugs, and laid it\ndown; then I loaded another gun with two bullets; and the third (for we\nhad three pieces) I loaded with five smaller bullets. I took the best\naim I could with the first piece to have shot him in the head, but he\nlay so with his leg raised a little above his nose, that the slugs hit\nhis leg about the knee and broke the bone. He started up, growling at\nfirst, but finding his leg broken, fell down again; and then got upon\nthree legs, and gave the most hideous roar that ever I heard. I was a\nlittle surprised that I had not hit him on the head; however, I took up\nthe second piece immediately, and though he began to move off, fired\nagain, and shot him in the head, and had the pleasure to see him drop\nand make but little noise, but lie struggling for life. Then Xury took\nheart, and would have me let him go on shore. \u201cWell, go,\u201d said I: so\nthe boy jumped into the water and taking a little gun in one hand, swam\nto shore with the other hand, and coming close to the creature, put the\nmuzzle of the piece to his ear, and shot him in the head again, which\ndespatched him quite.\nThis was game indeed to us, but this was no food; and I was very sorry\nto lose three charges of powder and shot upon a creature that was good\nfor nothing to us. However, Xury said he would have some of him; so he\ncomes on board, and asked me to give him the hatchet. \u201cFor what, Xury?\u201d\nsaid I. \u201cMe cut off his head,\u201d said he. However, Xury could not cut off\nhis head, but he cut off a foot, and brought it with him, and it was a\nmonstrous great one.\nI bethought myself, however, that, perhaps the skin of him might, one\nway or other, be of some value to us; and I resolved to take off his\nskin if I could. So Xury and I went to work with him; but Xury was much\nthe better workman at it, for I knew very ill how to do it. Indeed, it\ntook us both up the whole day, but at last we got off the hide of him,\nand spreading it on the top of our cabin, the sun effectually dried it\nin two days\u2019 time, and it afterwards served me to lie upon.\nCHAPTER III. WRECKED ON A DESERT ISLAND\nAfter this stop, we made on to the southward continually for ten or\ntwelve days, living very sparingly on our provisions, which began to\nabate very much, and going no oftener to the shore than we were obliged\nto for fresh water. My design in this was to make the river Gambia or\nSenegal, that is to say anywhere about the Cape de Verde, where I was\nin hopes to meet with some European ship; and if I did not, I knew not\nwhat course I had to take, but to seek for the islands, or perish there\namong the negroes. I knew that all the ships from Europe, which sailed\neither to the coast of Guinea or to Brazil, or to the East Indies, made\nthis cape, or those islands; and, in a word, I put the whole of my\nfortune upon this single point, either that I must meet with some ship\nor must perish.\nWhen I had pursued this resolution about ten days longer, as I have\nsaid, I began to see that the land was inhabited; and in two or three\nplaces, as we sailed by, we saw people stand upon the shore to look at\nus; we could also perceive they were quite black and naked. I was once\ninclined to have gone on shore to them; but Xury was my better\ncounsellor, and said to me, \u201cNo go, no go.\u201d However, I hauled in nearer\nthe shore that I might talk to them, and I found they ran along the\nshore by me a good way. I observed they had no weapons in their hand,\nexcept one, who had a long slender stick, which Xury said was a lance,\nand that they could throw them a great way with good aim; so I kept at\na distance, but talked with them by signs as well as I could; and\nparticularly made signs for something to eat: they beckoned to me to\nstop my boat, and they would fetch me some meat. Upon this I lowered\nthe top of my sail and lay by, and two of them ran up into the country,\nand in less than half-an-hour came back, and brought with them two\npieces of dried flesh and some corn, such as is the produce of their\ncountry; but we neither knew what the one or the other was; however, we\nwere willing to accept it, but how to come at it was our next dispute,\nfor I would not venture on shore to them, and they were as much afraid\nof us; but they took a safe way for us all, for they brought it to the\nshore and laid it down, and went and stood a great way off till we\nfetched it on board, and then came close to us again.\nWe made signs of thanks to them, for we had nothing to make them\namends; but an opportunity offered that very instant to oblige them\nwonderfully; for while we were lying by the shore came two mighty\ncreatures, one pursuing the other (as we took it) with great fury from\nthe mountains towards the sea; whether it was the male pursuing the\nfemale, or whether they were in sport or in rage, we could not tell,\nany more than we could tell whether it was usual or strange, but I\nbelieve it was the latter; because, in the first place, those ravenous\ncreatures seldom appear but in the night; and, in the second place, we\nfound the people terribly frighted, especially the women. The man that\nhad the lance or dart did not fly from them, but the rest did; however,\nas the two creatures ran directly into the water, they did not offer to\nfall upon any of the negroes, but plunged themselves into the sea, and\nswam about, as if they had come for their diversion; at last one of\nthem began to come nearer our boat than at first I expected; but I lay\nready for him, for I had loaded my gun with all possible expedition,\nand bade Xury load both the others. As soon as he came fairly within my\nreach, I fired, and shot him directly in the head; immediately he sank\ndown into the water, but rose instantly, and plunged up and down, as if\nhe were struggling for life, and so indeed he was; he immediately made\nto the shore; but between the wound, which was his mortal hurt, and the\nstrangling of the water, he died just before he reached the shore.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment of these poor creatures at\nthe noise and fire of my gun: some of them were even ready to die for\nfear, and fell down as dead with the very terror; but when they saw the\ncreature dead, and sunk in the water, and that I made signs to them to\ncome to the shore, they took heart and came, and began to search for\nthe creature. I found him by his blood staining the water; and by the\nhelp of a rope, which I slung round him, and gave the negroes to haul,\nthey dragged him on shore, and found that it was a most curious\nleopard, spotted, and fine to an admirable degree; and the negroes held\nup their hands with admiration, to think what it was I had killed him\nwith.\nThe other creature, frighted with the flash of fire and the noise of\nthe gun, swam on shore, and ran up directly to the mountains from\nwhence they came; nor could I, at that distance, know what it was. I\nfound quickly the negroes wished to eat the flesh of this creature, so\nI was willing to have them take it as a favour from me; which, when I\nmade signs to them that they might take him, they were very thankful\nfor. Immediately they fell to work with him; and though they had no\nknife, yet, with a sharpened piece of wood, they took off his skin as\nreadily, and much more readily, than we could have done with a knife.\nThey offered me some of the flesh, which I declined, pointing out that\nI would give it them; but made signs for the skin, which they gave me\nvery freely, and brought me a great deal more of their provisions,\nwhich, though I did not understand, yet I accepted. I then made signs\nto them for some water, and held out one of my jars to them, turning it\nbottom upward, to show that it was empty, and that I wanted to have it\nfilled. They called immediately to some of their friends, and there\ncame two women, and brought a great vessel made of earth, and burnt, as\nI supposed, in the sun, this they set down to me, as before, and I sent\nXury on shore with my jars, and filled them all three. The women were\nas naked as the men.\nI was now furnished with roots and corn, such as it was, and water; and\nleaving my friendly negroes, I made forward for about eleven days more,\nwithout offering to go near the shore, till I saw the land run out a\ngreat length into the sea, at about the distance of four or five\nleagues before me; and the sea being very calm, I kept a large offing\nto make this point. At length, doubling the point, at about two leagues\nfrom the land, I saw plainly land on the other side, to seaward; then I\nconcluded, as it was most certain indeed, that this was the Cape de\nVerde, and those the islands called, from thence, Cape de Verde\nIslands. However, they were at a great distance, and I could not well\ntell what I had best to do; for if I should be taken with a fresh of\nwind, I might neither reach one or other.\nIn this dilemma, as I was very pensive, I stepped into the cabin and\nsat down, Xury having the helm; when, on a sudden, the boy cried out,\n\u201cMaster, master, a ship with a sail!\u201d and the foolish boy was frighted\nout of his wits, thinking it must needs be some of his master\u2019s ships\nsent to pursue us, but I knew we were far enough out of their reach. I\njumped out of the cabin, and immediately saw, not only the ship, but\nthat it was a Portuguese ship; and, as I thought, was bound to the\ncoast of Guinea, for negroes. But, when I observed the course she\nsteered, I was soon convinced they were bound some other way, and did\nnot design to come any nearer to the shore; upon which I stretched out\nto sea as much as I could, resolving to speak with them if possible.\nWith all the sail I could make, I found I should not be able to come in\ntheir way, but that they would be gone by before I could make any\nsignal to them: but after I had crowded to the utmost, and began to\ndespair, they, it seems, saw by the help of their glasses that it was\nsome European boat, which they supposed must belong to some ship that\nwas lost; so they shortened sail to let me come up. I was encouraged\nwith this, and as I had my patron\u2019s ancient on board, I made a waft of\nit to them, for a signal of distress, and fired a gun, both which they\nsaw; for they told me they saw the smoke, though they did not hear the\ngun. Upon these signals they very kindly brought to, and lay by for me;\nand in about three hours; time I came up with them.\nThey asked me what I was, in Portuguese, and in Spanish, and in French,\nbut I understood none of them; but at last a Scotch sailor, who was on\nboard, called to me: and I answered him, and told him I was an\nEnglishman, that I had made my escape out of slavery from the Moors, at\nSallee; they then bade me come on board, and very kindly took me in,\nand all my goods.\nIt was an inexpressible joy to me, which any one will believe, that I\nwas thus delivered, as I esteemed it, from such a miserable and almost\nhopeless condition as I was in; and I immediately offered all I had to\nthe captain of the ship, as a return for my deliverance; but he\ngenerously told me he would take nothing from me, but that all I had\nshould be delivered safe to me when I came to the Brazils. \u201cFor,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cI have saved your life on no other terms than I would be glad to\nbe saved myself: and it may, one time or other, be my lot to be taken\nup in the same condition. Besides,\u201d said he, \u201cwhen I carry you to the\nBrazils, so great a way from your own country, if I should take from\nyou what you have, you will be starved there, and then I only take away\nthat life I have given. No, no,\u201d says he: \u201cSeignior Inglese\u201d (Mr.\nEnglishman), \u201cI will carry you thither in charity, and those things\nwill help to buy your subsistence there, and your passage home again.\u201d\nAs he was charitable in this proposal, so he was just in the\nperformance to a tittle; for he ordered the seamen that none should\ntouch anything that I had: then he took everything into his own\npossession, and gave me back an exact inventory of them, that I might\nhave them, even to my three earthen jars.\nAs to my boat, it was a very good one; and that he saw, and told me he\nwould buy it of me for his ship\u2019s use; and asked me what I would have\nfor it? I told him he had been so generous to me in everything that I\ncould not offer to make any price of the boat, but left it entirely to\nhim: upon which he told me he would give me a note of hand to pay me\neighty pieces of eight for it at Brazil; and when it came there, if any\none offered to give more, he would make it up. He offered me also sixty\npieces of eight more for my boy Xury, which I was loth to take; not\nthat I was unwilling to let the captain have him, but I was very loth\nto sell the poor boy\u2019s liberty, who had assisted me so faithfully in\nprocuring my own. However, when I let him know my reason, he owned it\nto be just, and offered me this medium, that he would give the boy an\nobligation to set him free in ten years, if he turned Christian: upon\nthis, and Xury saying he was willing to go to him, I let the captain\nhave him.\nWe had a very good voyage to the Brazils, and I arrived in the Bay de\nTodos los Santos, or All Saints\u2019 Bay, in about twenty-two days after.\nAnd now I was once more delivered from the most miserable of all\nconditions of life; and what to do next with myself I was to consider.\nThe generous treatment the captain gave me I can never enough remember:\nhe would take nothing of me for my passage, gave me twenty ducats for\nthe leopard\u2019s skin, and forty for the lion\u2019s skin, which I had in my\nboat, and caused everything I had in the ship to be punctually\ndelivered to me; and what I was willing to sell he bought of me, such\nas the case of bottles, two of my guns, and a piece of the lump of\nbeeswax\u2014for I had made candles of the rest: in a word, I made about two\nhundred and twenty pieces of eight of all my cargo; and with this stock\nI went on shore in the Brazils.\nI had not been long here before I was recommended to the house of a\ngood honest man like himself, who had an _ingenio_, as they call it\n(that is, a plantation and a sugar-house). I lived with him some time,\nand acquainted myself by that means with the manner of planting and\nmaking of sugar; and seeing how well the planters lived, and how they\ngot rich suddenly, I resolved, if I could get a licence to settle\nthere, I would turn planter among them: resolving in the meantime to\nfind out some way to get my money, which I had left in London, remitted\nto me. To this purpose, getting a kind of letter of naturalisation, I\npurchased as much land that was uncured as my money would reach, and\nformed a plan for my plantation and settlement; such a one as might be\nsuitable to the stock which I proposed to myself to receive from\nEngland.\nI had a neighbour, a Portuguese, of Lisbon, but born of English\nparents, whose name was Wells, and in much such circumstances as I was.\nI call him my neighbour, because his plantation lay next to mine, and\nwe went on very sociably together. My stock was but low, as well as\nhis; and we rather planted for food than anything else, for about two\nyears. However, we began to increase, and our land began to come into\norder; so that the third year we planted some tobacco, and made each of\nus a large piece of ground ready for planting canes in the year to\ncome. But we both wanted help; and now I found, more than before, I had\ndone wrong in parting with my boy Xury.\nBut, alas! for me to do wrong that never did right, was no great\nwonder. I had no remedy but to go on: I had got into an employment\nquite remote to my genius, and directly contrary to the life I\ndelighted in, and for which I forsook my father\u2019s house, and broke\nthrough all his good advice. Nay, I was coming into the very middle\nstation, or upper degree of low life, which my father advised me to\nbefore, and which, if I resolved to go on with, I might as well have\nstayed at home, and never have fatigued myself in the world as I had\ndone; and I used often to say to myself, I could have done this as well\nin England, among my friends, as have gone five thousand miles off to\ndo it among strangers and savages, in a wilderness, and at such a\ndistance as never to hear from any part of the world that had the least\nknowledge of me.\nIn this manner I used to look upon my condition with the utmost regret.\nI had nobody to converse with, but now and then this neighbour; no work\nto be done, but by the labour of my hands; and I used to say, I lived\njust like a man cast away upon some desolate island, that had nobody\nthere but himself. But how just has it been\u2014and how should all men\nreflect, that when they compare their present conditions with others\nthat are worse, Heaven may oblige them to make the exchange, and be\nconvinced of their former felicity by their experience\u2014I say, how just\nhas it been, that the truly solitary life I reflected on, in an island\nof mere desolation, should be my lot, who had so often unjustly\ncompared it with the life which I then led, in which, had I continued,\nI had in all probability been exceeding prosperous and rich.\nI was in some degree settled in my measures for carrying on the\nplantation before my kind friend, the captain of the ship that took me\nup at sea, went back\u2014for the ship remained there, in providing his\nlading and preparing for his voyage, nearly three months\u2014when telling\nhim what little stock I had left behind me in London, he gave me this\nfriendly and sincere advice:\u2014\u201cSeignior Inglese,\u201d says he (for so he\nalways called me), \u201cif you will give me letters, and a procuration in\nform to me, with orders to the person who has your money in London to\nsend your effects to Lisbon, to such persons as I shall direct, and in\nsuch goods as are proper for this country, I will bring you the produce\nof them, God willing, at my return; but, since human affairs are all\nsubject to changes and disasters, I would have you give orders but for\none hundred pounds sterling, which, you say, is half your stock, and\nlet the hazard be run for the first; so that, if it come safe, you may\norder the rest the same way, and, if it miscarry, you may have the\nother half to have recourse to for your supply.\u201d\nThis was so wholesome advice, and looked so friendly, that I could not\nbut be convinced it was the best course I could take; so I accordingly\nprepared letters to the gentlewoman with whom I had left my money, and\na procuration to the Portuguese captain, as he desired.\nI wrote the English captain\u2019s widow a full account of all my\nadventures\u2014my slavery, escape, and how I had met with the Portuguese\ncaptain at sea, the humanity of his behaviour, and what condition I was\nnow in, with all other necessary directions for my supply; and when\nthis honest captain came to Lisbon, he found means, by some of the\nEnglish merchants there, to send over, not the order only, but a full\naccount of my story to a merchant in London, who represented it\neffectually to her; whereupon she not only delivered the money, but out\nof her own pocket sent the Portugal captain a very handsome present for\nhis humanity and charity to me.\nThe merchant in London, vesting this hundred pounds in English goods,\nsuch as the captain had written for, sent them directly to him at\nLisbon, and he brought them all safe to me to the Brazils; among which,\nwithout my direction (for I was too young in my business to think of\nthem), he had taken care to have all sorts of tools, ironwork, and\nutensils necessary for my plantation, and which were of great use to\nme.\nWhen this cargo arrived I thought my fortune made, for I was surprised\nwith the joy of it; and my stood steward, the captain, had laid out the\nfive pounds, which my friend had sent him for a present for himself, to\npurchase and bring me over a servant, under bond for six years\u2019\nservice, and would not accept of any consideration, except a little\ntobacco, which I would have him accept, being of my own produce.\nNeither was this all; for my goods being all English manufacture, such\nas cloths, stuffs, baize, and things particularly valuable and\ndesirable in the country, I found means to sell them to a very great\nadvantage; so that I might say I had more than four times the value of\nmy first cargo, and was now infinitely beyond my poor neighbour\u2014I mean\nin the advancement of my plantation; for the first thing I did, I\nbought me a negro slave, and an European servant also\u2014I mean another\nbesides that which the captain brought me from Lisbon.\nBut as abused prosperity is oftentimes made the very means of our\ngreatest adversity, so it was with me. I went on the next year with\ngreat success in my plantation: I raised fifty great rolls of tobacco\non my own ground, more than I had disposed of for necessaries among my\nneighbours; and these fifty rolls, being each of above a hundredweight,\nwere well cured, and laid by against the return of the fleet from\nLisbon: and now increasing in business and wealth, my head began to be\nfull of projects and undertakings beyond my reach; such as are, indeed,\noften the ruin of the best heads in business. Had I continued in the\nstation I was now in, I had room for all the happy things to have yet\nbefallen me for which my father so earnestly recommended a quiet,\nretired life, and of which he had so sensibly described the middle\nstation of life to be full of; but other things attended me, and I was\nstill to be the wilful agent of all my own miseries; and particularly,\nto increase my fault, and double the reflections upon myself, which in\nmy future sorrows I should have leisure to make, all these miscarriages\nwere procured by my apparent obstinate adhering to my foolish\ninclination of wandering abroad, and pursuing that inclination, in\ncontradiction to the clearest views of doing myself good in a fair and\nplain pursuit of those prospects, and those measures of life, which\nnature and Providence concurred to present me with, and to make my\nduty.\nAs I had once done thus in my breaking away from my parents, so I could\nnot be content now, but I must go and leave the happy view I had of\nbeing a rich and thriving man in my new plantation, only to pursue a\nrash and immoderate desire of rising faster than the nature of the\nthing admitted; and thus I cast myself down again into the deepest gulf\nof human misery that ever man fell into, or perhaps could be consistent\nwith life and a state of health in the world.\nTo come, then, by the just degrees to the particulars of this part of\nmy story. You may suppose, that having now lived almost four years in\nthe Brazils, and beginning to thrive and prosper very well upon my\nplantation, I had not only learned the language, but had contracted\nacquaintance and friendship among my fellow-planters, as well as among\nthe merchants at St. Salvador, which was our port; and that, in my\ndiscourses among them, I had frequently given them an account of my two\nvoyages to the coast of Guinea: the manner of trading with the negroes\nthere, and how easy it was to purchase upon the coast for trifles\u2014such\nas beads, toys, knives, scissors, hatchets, bits of glass, and the\nlike\u2014not only gold-dust, Guinea grains, elephants\u2019 teeth, &c., but\nnegroes, for the service of the Brazils, in great numbers.\nThey listened always very attentively to my discourses on these heads,\nbut especially to that part which related to the buying of negroes,\nwhich was a trade at that time, not only not far entered into, but, as\nfar as it was, had been carried on by assientos, or permission of the\nkings of Spain and Portugal, and engrossed in the public stock: so that\nfew negroes were bought, and these excessively dear.\nIt happened, being in company with some merchants and planters of my\nacquaintance, and talking of those things very earnestly, three of them\ncame to me next morning, and told me they had been musing very much\nupon what I had discoursed with them of the last night, and they came\nto make a secret proposal to me; and, after enjoining me to secrecy,\nthey told me that they had a mind to fit out a ship to go to Guinea;\nthat they had all plantations as well as I, and were straitened for\nnothing so much as servants; that as it was a trade that could not be\ncarried on, because they could not publicly sell the negroes when they\ncame home, so they desired to make but one voyage, to bring the negroes\non shore privately, and divide them among their own plantations; and,\nin a word, the question was whether I would go their supercargo in the\nship, to manage the trading part upon the coast of Guinea; and they\noffered me that I should have my equal share of the negroes, without\nproviding any part of the stock.\nThis was a fair proposal, it must be confessed, had it been made to any\none that had not had a settlement and a plantation of his own to look\nafter, which was in a fair way of coming to be very considerable, and\nwith a good stock upon it; but for me, that was thus entered and\nestablished, and had nothing to do but to go on as I had begun, for\nthree or four years more, and to have sent for the other hundred pounds\nfrom England; and who in that time, and with that little addition,\ncould scarce have failed of being worth three or four thousand pounds\nsterling, and that increasing too\u2014for me to think of such a voyage was\nthe most preposterous thing that ever man in such circumstances could\nbe guilty of.\nBut I, that was born to be my own destroyer, could no more resist the\noffer than I could restrain my first rambling designs when my father\u2019s\ngood counsel was lost upon me. In a word, I told them I would go with\nall my heart, if they would undertake to look after my plantation in my\nabsence, and would dispose of it to such as I should direct, if I\nmiscarried. This they all engaged to do, and entered into writings or\ncovenants to do so; and I made a formal will, disposing of my\nplantation and effects in case of my death, making the captain of the\nship that had saved my life, as before, my universal heir, but obliging\nhim to dispose of my effects as I had directed in my will; one half of\nthe produce being to himself, and the other to be shipped to England.\nIn short, I took all possible caution to preserve my effects and to\nkeep up my plantation. Had I used half as much prudence to have looked\ninto my own interest, and have made a judgment of what I ought to have\ndone and not to have done, I had certainly never gone away from so\nprosperous an undertaking, leaving all the probable views of a thriving\ncircumstance, and gone upon a voyage to sea, attended with all its\ncommon hazards, to say nothing of the reasons I had to expect\nparticular misfortunes to myself.\nBut I was hurried on, and obeyed blindly the dictates of my fancy\nrather than my reason; and, accordingly, the ship being fitted out, and\nthe cargo furnished, and all things done, as by agreement, by my\npartners in the voyage, I went on board in an evil hour, the 1st\nSeptember 1659, being the same day eight years that I went from my\nfather and mother at Hull, in order to act the rebel to their\nauthority, and the fool to my own interests.\nOur ship was about one hundred and twenty tons burden, carried six guns\nand fourteen men, besides the master, his boy, and myself. We had on\nboard no large cargo of goods, except of such toys as were fit for our\ntrade with the negroes, such as beads, bits of glass, shells, and other\ntrifles, especially little looking-glasses, knives, scissors, hatchets,\nand the like.\nThe same day I went on board we set sail, standing away to the\nnorthward upon our own coast, with design to stretch over for the\nAfrican coast when we came about ten or twelve degrees of northern\nlatitude, which, it seems, was the manner of course in those days. We\nhad very good weather, only excessively hot, all the way upon our own\ncoast, till we came to the height of Cape St. Augustino; from whence,\nkeeping further off at sea, we lost sight of land, and steered as if we\nwere bound for the isle Fernando de Noronha, holding our course N.E. by\nN., and leaving those isles on the east. In this course we passed the\nline in about twelve days\u2019 time, and were, by our last observation, in\nseven degrees twenty-two minutes northern latitude, when a violent\ntornado, or hurricane, took us quite out of our knowledge. It began\nfrom the south-east, came about to the north-west, and then settled in\nthe north-east; from whence it blew in such a terrible manner, that for\ntwelve days together we could do nothing but drive, and, scudding away\nbefore it, let it carry us whither fate and the fury of the winds\ndirected; and, during these twelve days, I need not say that I expected\nevery day to be swallowed up; nor, indeed, did any in the ship expect\nto save their lives.\nIn this distress we had, besides the terror of the storm, one of our\nmen die of the calenture, and one man and the boy washed overboard.\nAbout the twelfth day, the weather abating a little, the master made an\nobservation as well as he could, and found that he was in about eleven\ndegrees north latitude, but that he was twenty-two degrees of longitude\ndifference west from Cape St. Augustino; so that he found he was upon\nthe coast of Guiana, or the north part of Brazil, beyond the river\nAmazon, toward that of the river Orinoco, commonly called the Great\nRiver; and began to consult with me what course he should take, for the\nship was leaky, and very much disabled, and he was going directly back\nto the coast of Brazil.\nI was positively against that; and looking over the charts of the\nsea-coast of America with him, we concluded there was no inhabited\ncountry for us to have recourse to till we came within the circle of\nthe Caribbee Islands, and therefore resolved to stand away for\nBarbadoes; which, by keeping off at sea, to avoid the indraft of the\nBay or Gulf of Mexico, we might easily perform, as we hoped, in about\nfifteen days\u2019 sail; whereas we could not possibly make our voyage to\nthe coast of Africa without some assistance both to our ship and to\nourselves.\nWith this design we changed our course, and steered away N.W. by W., in\norder to reach some of our English islands, where I hoped for relief.\nBut our voyage was otherwise determined; for, being in the latitude of\ntwelve degrees eighteen minutes, a second storm came upon us, which\ncarried us away with the same impetuosity westward, and drove us so out\nof the way of all human commerce, that, had all our lives been saved as\nto the sea, we were rather in danger of being devoured by savages than\never returning to our own country.\nIn this distress, the wind still blowing very hard, one of our men\nearly in the morning cried out, \u201cLand!\u201d and we had no sooner run out of\nthe cabin to look out, in hopes of seeing whereabouts in the world we\nwere, than the ship struck upon a sand, and in a moment her motion\nbeing so stopped, the sea broke over her in such a manner that we\nexpected we should all have perished immediately; and we were\nimmediately driven into our close quarters, to shelter us from the very\nfoam and spray of the sea.\nIt is not easy for any one who has not been in the like condition to\ndescribe or conceive the consternation of men in such circumstances. We\nknew nothing where we were, or upon what land it was we were\ndriven\u2014whether an island or the main, whether inhabited or not\ninhabited. As the rage of the wind was still great, though rather less\nthan at first, we could not so much as hope to have the ship hold many\nminutes without breaking into pieces, unless the winds, by a kind of\nmiracle, should turn immediately about. In a word, we sat looking upon\none another, and expecting death every moment, and every man,\naccordingly, preparing for another world; for there was little or\nnothing more for us to do in this. That which was our present comfort,\nand all the comfort we had, was that, contrary to our expectation, the\nship did not break yet, and that the master said the wind began to\nabate.\nNow, though we thought that the wind did a little abate, yet the ship\nhaving thus struck upon the sand, and sticking too fast for us to\nexpect her getting off, we were in a dreadful condition indeed, and had\nnothing to do but to think of saving our lives as well as we could. We\nhad a boat at our stern just before the storm, but she was first staved\nby dashing against the ship\u2019s rudder, and in the next place she broke\naway, and either sunk or was driven off to sea; so there was no hope\nfrom her. We had another boat on board, but how to get her off into the\nsea was a doubtful thing. However, there was no time to debate, for we\nfancied that the ship would break in pieces every minute, and some told\nus she was actually broken already.\nIn this distress the mate of our vessel laid hold of the boat, and with\nthe help of the rest of the men got her slung over the ship\u2019s side; and\ngetting all into her, let go, and committed ourselves, being eleven in\nnumber, to God\u2019s mercy and the wild sea; for though the storm was\nabated considerably, yet the sea ran dreadfully high upon the shore,\nand might be well called _den wild zee_, as the Dutch call the sea in a\nstorm.\nAnd now our case was very dismal indeed; for we all saw plainly that\nthe sea went so high that the boat could not live, and that we should\nbe inevitably drowned. As to making sail, we had none, nor if we had\ncould we have done anything with it; so we worked at the oar towards\nthe land, though with heavy hearts, like men going to execution; for we\nall knew that when the boat came near the shore she would be dashed in\na thousand pieces by the breach of the sea. However, we committed our\nsouls to God in the most earnest manner; and the wind driving us\ntowards the shore, we hastened our destruction with our own hands,\npulling as well as we could towards land.\nWhat the shore was, whether rock or sand, whether steep or shoal, we\nknew not. The only hope that could rationally give us the least shadow\nof expectation was, if we might find some bay or gulf, or the mouth of\nsome river, where by great chance we might have run our boat in, or got\nunder the lee of the land, and perhaps made smooth water. But there was\nnothing like this appeared; but as we made nearer and nearer the shore,\nthe land looked more frightful than the sea.\nAfter we had rowed, or rather driven about a league and a half, as we\nreckoned it, a raging wave, mountain-like, came rolling astern of us,\nand plainly bade us expect the _coup de gr\u00e2ce_. It took us with such a\nfury, that it overset the boat at once; and separating us as well from\nthe boat as from one another, gave us no time to say, \u201cO God!\u201d for we\nwere all swallowed up in a moment.\nNothing can describe the confusion of thought which I felt when I sank\ninto the water; for though I swam very well, yet I could not deliver\nmyself from the waves so as to draw breath, till that wave having\ndriven me, or rather carried me, a vast way on towards the shore, and\nhaving spent itself, went back, and left me upon the land almost dry,\nbut half dead with the water I took in. I had so much presence of mind,\nas well as breath left, that seeing myself nearer the mainland than I\nexpected, I got upon my feet, and endeavoured to make on towards the\nland as fast as I could before another wave should return and take me\nup again; but I soon found it was impossible to avoid it; for I saw the\nsea come after me as high as a great hill, and as furious as an enemy,\nwhich I had no means or strength to contend with: my business was to\nhold my breath, and raise myself upon the water if I could; and so, by\nswimming, to preserve my breathing, and pilot myself towards the shore,\nif possible, my greatest concern now being that the sea, as it would\ncarry me a great way towards the shore when it came on, might not carry\nme back again with it when it gave back towards the sea.\nThe wave that came upon me again buried me at once twenty or thirty\nfeet deep in its own body, and I could feel myself carried with a\nmighty force and swiftness towards the shore\u2014a very great way; but I\nheld my breath, and assisted myself to swim still forward with all my\nmight. I was ready to burst with holding my breath, when, as I felt\nmyself rising up, so, to my immediate relief, I found my head and hands\nshoot out above the surface of the water; and though it was not two\nseconds of time that I could keep myself so, yet it relieved me\ngreatly, gave me breath, and new courage. I was covered again with\nwater a good while, but not so long but I held it out; and finding the\nwater had spent itself, and began to return, I struck forward against\nthe return of the waves, and felt ground again with my feet. I stood\nstill a few moments to recover breath, and till the waters went from\nme, and then took to my heels and ran with what strength I had further\ntowards the shore. But neither would this deliver me from the fury of\nthe sea, which came pouring in after me again; and twice more I was\nlifted up by the waves and carried forward as before, the shore being\nvery flat.\nThe last time of these two had well-nigh been fatal to me, for the sea\nhaving hurried me along as before, landed me, or rather dashed me,\nagainst a piece of rock, and that with such force, that it left me\nsenseless, and indeed helpless, as to my own deliverance; for the blow\ntaking my side and breast, beat the breath as it were quite out of my\nbody; and had it returned again immediately, I must have been strangled\nin the water; but I recovered a little before the return of the waves,\nand seeing I should be covered again with the water, I resolved to hold\nfast by a piece of the rock, and so to hold my breath, if possible,\ntill the wave went back. Now, as the waves were not so high as at\nfirst, being nearer land, I held my hold till the wave abated, and then\nfetched another run, which brought me so near the shore that the next\nwave, though it went over me, yet did not so swallow me up as to carry\nme away; and the next run I took, I got to the mainland, where, to my\ngreat comfort, I clambered up the cliffs of the shore and sat me down\nupon the grass, free from danger and quite out of the reach of the\nwater.\nI was now landed and safe on shore, and began to look up and thank God\nthat my life was saved, in a case wherein there was some minutes before\nscarce any room to hope. I believe it is impossible to express, to the\nlife, what the ecstasies and transports of the soul are, when it is so\nsaved, as I may say, out of the very grave: and I do not wonder now at\nthe custom, when a malefactor, who has the halter about his neck, is\ntied up, and just going to be turned off, and has a reprieve brought to\nhim\u2014I say, I do not wonder that they bring a surgeon with it, to let\nhim blood that very moment they tell him of it, that the surprise may\nnot drive the animal spirits from the heart and overwhelm him.\n\u201cFor sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first.\u201d\nI walked about on the shore lifting up my hands, and my whole being, as\nI may say, wrapped up in a contemplation of my deliverance; making a\nthousand gestures and motions, which I cannot describe; reflecting upon\nall my comrades that were drowned, and that there should not be one\nsoul saved but myself; for, as for them, I never saw them afterwards,\nor any sign of them, except three of their hats, one cap, and two shoes\nthat were not fellows.\nI cast my eye to the stranded vessel, when, the breach and froth of the\nsea being so big, I could hardly see it, it lay so far of; and\nconsidered, Lord! how was it possible I could get on shore?\nAfter I had solaced my mind with the comfortable part of my condition,\nI began to look round me, to see what kind of place I was in, and what\nwas next to be done; and I soon found my comforts abate, and that, in a\nword, I had a dreadful deliverance; for I was wet, had no clothes to\nshift me, nor anything either to eat or drink to comfort me; neither\ndid I see any prospect before me but that of perishing with hunger or\nbeing devoured by wild beasts; and that which was particularly\nafflicting to me was, that I had no weapon, either to hunt and kill any\ncreature for my sustenance, or to defend myself against any other\ncreature that might desire to kill me for theirs. In a word, I had\nnothing about me but a knife, a tobacco-pipe, and a little tobacco in a\nbox. This was all my provisions; and this threw me into such terrible\nagonies of mind, that for a while I ran about like a madman. Night\ncoming upon me, I began with a heavy heart to consider what would be my\nlot if there were any ravenous beasts in that country, as at night they\nalways come abroad for their prey.\nAll the remedy that offered to my thoughts at that time was to get up\ninto a thick bushy tree like a fir, but thorny, which grew near me, and\nwhere I resolved to sit all night, and consider the next day what death\nI should die, for as yet I saw no prospect of life. I walked about a\nfurlong from the shore, to see if I could find any fresh water to\ndrink, which I did, to my great joy; and having drank, and put a little\ntobacco into my mouth to prevent hunger, I went to the tree, and\ngetting up into it, endeavoured to place myself so that if I should\nsleep I might not fall. And having cut me a short stick, like a\ntruncheon, for my defence, I took up my lodging; and having been\nexcessively fatigued, I fell fast asleep, and slept as comfortably as,\nI believe, few could have done in my condition, and found myself more\nrefreshed with it than, I think, I ever was on such an occasion.\nCHAPTER IV. FIRST WEEKS ON THE ISLAND\nWhen I waked it was broad day, the weather clear, and the storm abated,\nso that the sea did not rage and swell as before. But that which\nsurprised me most was, that the ship was lifted off in the night from\nthe sand where she lay by the swelling of the tide, and was driven up\nalmost as far as the rock which I at first mentioned, where I had been\nso bruised by the wave dashing me against it. This being within about a\nmile from the shore where I was, and the ship seeming to stand upright\nstill, I wished myself on board, that at least I might save some\nnecessary things for my use.\nWhen I came down from my apartment in the tree, I looked about me\nagain, and the first thing I found was the boat, which lay, as the wind\nand the sea had tossed her up, upon the land, about two miles on my\nright hand. I walked as far as I could upon the shore to have got to\nher; but found a neck or inlet of water between me and the boat which\nwas about half a mile broad; so I came back for the present, being more\nintent upon getting at the ship, where I hoped to find something for my\npresent subsistence.\nA little after noon I found the sea very calm, and the tide ebbed so\nfar out that I could come within a quarter of a mile of the ship. And\nhere I found a fresh renewing of my grief; for I saw evidently that if\nwe had kept on board we had been all safe\u2014that is to say, we had all\ngot safe on shore, and I had not been so miserable as to be left\nentirely destitute of all comfort and company as I now was. This forced\ntears to my eyes again; but as there was little relief in that, I\nresolved, if possible, to get to the ship; so I pulled off my\nclothes\u2014for the weather was hot to extremity\u2014and took the water. But\nwhen I came to the ship my difficulty was still greater to know how to\nget on board; for, as she lay aground, and high out of the water, there\nwas nothing within my reach to lay hold of. I swam round her twice, and\nthe second time I spied a small piece of rope, which I wondered I did\nnot see at first, hung down by the fore-chains so low, as that with\ngreat difficulty I got hold of it, and by the help of that rope I got\nup into the forecastle of the ship. Here I found that the ship was\nbulged, and had a great deal of water in her hold, but that she lay so\non the side of a bank of hard sand, or, rather earth, that her stern\nlay lifted up upon the bank, and her head low, almost to the water. By\nthis means all her quarter was free, and all that was in that part was\ndry; for you may be sure my first work was to search, and to see what\nwas spoiled and what was free. And, first, I found that all the ship\u2019s\nprovisions were dry and untouched by the water, and being very well\ndisposed to eat, I went to the bread room and filled my pockets with\nbiscuit, and ate it as I went about other things, for I had no time to\nlose. I also found some rum in the great cabin, of which I took a large\ndram, and which I had, indeed, need enough of to spirit me for what was\nbefore me. Now I wanted nothing but a boat to furnish myself with many\nthings which I foresaw would be very necessary to me.\nIt was in vain to sit still and wish for what was not to be had; and\nthis extremity roused my application. We had several spare yards, and\ntwo or three large spars of wood, and a spare topmast or two in the\nship; I resolved to fall to work with these, and I flung as many of\nthem overboard as I could manage for their weight, tying every one with\na rope, that they might not drive away. When this was done I went down\nthe ship\u2019s side, and pulling them to me, I tied four of them together\nat both ends as well as I could, in the form of a raft, and laying two\nor three short pieces of plank upon them crossways, I found I could\nwalk upon it very well, but that it was not able to bear any great\nweight, the pieces being too light. So I went to work, and with a\ncarpenter\u2019s saw I cut a spare topmast into three lengths, and added\nthem to my raft, with a great deal of labour and pains. But the hope of\nfurnishing myself with necessaries encouraged me to go beyond what I\nshould have been able to have done upon another occasion.\nMy raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable weight. My next\ncare was what to load it with, and how to preserve what I laid upon it\nfrom the surf of the sea; but I was not long considering this. I first\nlaid all the planks or boards upon it that I could get, and having\nconsidered well what I most wanted, I got three of the seamen\u2019s chests,\nwhich I had broken open, and emptied, and lowered them down upon my\nraft; the first of these I filled with provisions\u2014viz. bread, rice,\nthree Dutch cheeses, five pieces of dried goat\u2019s flesh (which we lived\nmuch upon), and a little remainder of European corn, which had been\nlaid by for some fowls which we brought to sea with us, but the fowls\nwere killed. There had been some barley and wheat together; but, to my\ngreat disappointment, I found afterwards that the rats had eaten or\nspoiled it all. As for liquors, I found several, cases of bottles\nbelonging to our skipper, in which were some cordial waters; and, in\nall, about five or six gallons of rack. These I stowed by themselves,\nthere being no need to put them into the chest, nor any room for them.\nWhile I was doing this, I found the tide begin to flow, though very\ncalm; and I had the mortification to see my coat, shirt, and waistcoat,\nwhich I had left on the shore, upon the sand, swim away. As for my\nbreeches, which were only linen, and open-kneed, I swam on board in\nthem and my stockings. However, this set me on rummaging for clothes,\nof which I found enough, but took no more than I wanted for present\nuse, for I had others things which my eye was more upon\u2014as, first,\ntools to work with on shore. And it was after long searching that I\nfound out the carpenter\u2019s chest, which was, indeed, a very useful prize\nto me, and much more valuable than a shipload of gold would have been\nat that time. I got it down to my raft, whole as it was, without losing\ntime to look into it, for I knew in general what it contained.\nMy next care was for some ammunition and arms. There were two very good\nfowling-pieces in the great cabin, and two pistols. These I secured\nfirst, with some powder-horns and a small bag of shot, and two old\nrusty swords. I knew there were three barrels of powder in the ship,\nbut knew not where our gunner had stowed them; but with much search I\nfound them, two of them dry and good, the third had taken water. Those\ntwo I got to my raft with the arms. And now I thought myself pretty\nwell freighted, and began to think how I should get to shore with them,\nhaving neither sail, oar, nor rudder; and the least capful of wind\nwould have overset all my navigation.\nI had three encouragements\u20141st, a smooth, calm sea; 2ndly, the tide\nrising, and setting in to the shore; 3rdly, what little wind there was\nblew me towards the land. And thus, having found two or three broken\noars belonging to the boat\u2014and, besides the tools which were in the\nchest, I found two saws, an axe, and a hammer; with this cargo I put to\nsea. For a mile or thereabouts my raft went very well, only that I\nfound it drive a little distant from the place where I had landed\nbefore; by which I perceived that there was some indraft of the water,\nand consequently I hoped to find some creek or river there, which I\nmight make use of as a port to get to land with my cargo.\nAs I imagined, so it was. There appeared before me a little opening of\nthe land, and I found a strong current of the tide set into it; so I\nguided my raft as well as I could, to keep in the middle of the stream.\nBut here I had like to have suffered a second shipwreck, which, if I\nhad, I think verily would have broken my heart; for, knowing nothing of\nthe coast, my raft ran aground at one end of it upon a shoal, and not\nbeing aground at the other end, it wanted but a little that all my\ncargo had slipped off towards the end that was afloat, and to fallen\ninto the water. I did my utmost, by setting my back against the chests,\nto keep them in their places, but could not thrust off the raft with\nall my strength; neither durst I stir from the posture I was in; but\nholding up the chests with all my might, I stood in that manner near\nhalf-an-hour, in which time the rising of the water brought me a little\nmore upon a level; and a little after, the water still-rising, my raft\nfloated again, and I thrust her off with the oar I had into the\nchannel, and then driving up higher, I at length found myself in the\nmouth of a little river, with land on both sides, and a strong current\nof tide running up. I looked on both sides for a proper place to get to\nshore, for I was not willing to be driven too high up the river: hoping\nin time to see some ships at sea, and therefore resolved to place\nmyself as near the coast as I could.\nAt length I spied a little cove on the right shore of the creek, to\nwhich with great pain and difficulty I guided my raft, and at last got\nso near that, reaching ground with my oar, I could thrust her directly\nin. But here I had like to have dipped all my cargo into the sea again;\nfor that shore lying pretty steep\u2014that is to say sloping\u2014there was no\nplace to land, but where one end of my float, if it ran on shore, would\nlie so high, and the other sink lower, as before, that it would\nendanger my cargo again. All that I could do was to wait till the tide\nwas at the highest, keeping the raft with my oar like an anchor, to\nhold the side of it fast to the shore, near a flat piece of ground,\nwhich I expected the water would flow over; and so it did. As soon as I\nfound water enough\u2014for my raft drew about a foot of water\u2014I thrust her\nupon that flat piece of ground, and there fastened or moored her, by\nsticking my two broken oars into the ground, one on one side near one\nend, and one on the other side near the other end; and thus I lay till\nthe water ebbed away, and left my raft and all my cargo safe on shore.\nMy next work was to view the country, and seek a proper place for my\nhabitation, and where to stow my goods to secure them from whatever\nmight happen. Where I was, I yet knew not; whether on the continent or\non an island; whether inhabited or not inhabited; whether in danger of\nwild beasts or not. There was a hill not above a mile from me, which\nrose up very steep and high, and which seemed to overtop some other\nhills, which lay as in a ridge from it northward. I took out one of the\nfowling-pieces, and one of the pistols, and a horn of powder; and thus\narmed, I travelled for discovery up to the top of that hill, where,\nafter I had with great labour and difficulty got to the top, I saw my\nfate, to my great affliction\u2014viz. that I was in an island environed\nevery way with the sea: no land to be seen except some rocks, which lay\na great way off; and two small islands, less than this, which lay about\nthree leagues to the west.\nI found also that the island I was in was barren, and, as I saw good\nreason to believe, uninhabited except by wild beasts, of whom, however,\nI saw none. Yet I saw abundance of fowls, but knew not their kinds;\nneither when I killed them could I tell what was fit for food, and what\nnot. At my coming back, I shot at a great bird which I saw sitting upon\na tree on the side of a great wood. I believe it was the first gun that\nhad been fired there since the creation of the world. I had no sooner\nfired, than from all parts of the wood there arose an innumerable\nnumber of fowls, of many sorts, making a confused screaming and crying,\nand every one according to his usual note, but not one of them of any\nkind that I knew. As for the creature I killed, I took it to be a kind\nof hawk, its colour and beak resembling it, but it had no talons or\nclaws more than common. Its flesh was carrion, and fit for nothing.\nContented with this discovery, I came back to my raft, and fell to work\nto bring my cargo on shore, which took me up the rest of that day. What\nto do with myself at night I knew not, nor indeed where to rest, for I\nwas afraid to lie down on the ground, not knowing but some wild beast\nmight devour me, though, as I afterwards found, there was really no\nneed for those fears.\nHowever, as well as I could, I barricaded myself round with the chest\nand boards that I had brought on shore, and made a kind of hut for that\nnight\u2019s lodging. As for food, I yet saw not which way to supply myself,\nexcept that I had seen two or three creatures like hares run out of the\nwood where I shot the fowl.\nI now began to consider that I might yet get a great many things out of\nthe ship which would be useful to me, and particularly some of the\nrigging and sails, and such other things as might come to land; and I\nresolved to make another voyage on board the vessel, if possible. And\nas I knew that the first storm that blew must necessarily break her all\nin pieces, I resolved to set all other things apart till I had got\neverything out of the ship that I could get. Then I called a\ncouncil\u2014that is to say in my thoughts\u2014whether I should take back the\nraft; but this appeared impracticable: so I resolved to go as before,\nwhen the tide was down; and I did so, only that I stripped before I\nwent from my hut, having nothing on but my chequered shirt, a pair of\nlinen drawers, and a pair of pumps on my feet.\nI got on board the ship as before, and prepared a second raft; and,\nhaving had experience of the first, I neither made this so unwieldy,\nnor loaded it so hard, but yet I brought away several things very\nuseful to me; as first, in the carpenters stores I found two or three\nbags full of nails and spikes, a great screw-jack, a dozen or two of\nhatchets, and, above all, that most useful thing called a grindstone.\nAll these I secured, together with several things belonging to the\ngunner, particularly two or three iron crows, and two barrels of musket\nbullets, seven muskets, another fowling-piece, with some small quantity\nof powder more; a large bagful of small shot, and a great roll of\nsheet-lead; but this last was so heavy, I could not hoist it up to get\nit over the ship\u2019s side.\nBesides these things, I took all the men\u2019s clothes that I could find,\nand a spare fore-topsail, a hammock, and some bedding; and with this I\nloaded my second raft, and brought them all safe on shore, to my very\ngreat comfort.\nI was under some apprehension, during my absence from the land, that at\nleast my provisions might be devoured on shore: but when I came back I\nfound no sign of any visitor; only there sat a creature like a wild cat\nupon one of the chests, which, when I came towards it, ran away a\nlittle distance, and then stood still. She sat very composed and\nunconcerned, and looked full in my face, as if she had a mind to be\nacquainted with me. I presented my gun at her, but, as she did not\nunderstand it, she was perfectly unconcerned at it, nor did she offer\nto stir away; upon which I tossed her a bit of biscuit, though by the\nway, I was not very free of it, for my store was not great: however, I\nspared her a bit, I say, and she went to it, smelled at it, and ate it,\nand looked (as if pleased) for more; but I thanked her, and could spare\nno more: so she marched off.\nHaving got my second cargo on shore\u2014though I was fain to open the\nbarrels of powder, and bring them by parcels, for they were too heavy,\nbeing large casks\u2014I went to work to make me a little tent with the sail\nand some poles which I cut for that purpose: and into this tent I\nbrought everything that I knew would spoil either with rain or sun; and\nI piled all the empty chests and casks up in a circle round the tent,\nto fortify it from any sudden attempt, either from man or beast.\nWhen I had done this, I blocked up the door of the tent with some\nboards within, and an empty chest set up on end without; and spreading\none of the beds upon the ground, laying my two pistols just at my head,\nand my gun at length by me, I went to bed for the first time, and slept\nvery quietly all night, for I was very weary and heavy; for the night\nbefore I had slept little, and had laboured very hard all day to fetch\nall those things from the ship, and to get them on shore.\nI had the biggest magazine of all kinds now that ever was laid up, I\nbelieve, for one man: but I was not satisfied still, for while the ship\nsat upright in that posture, I thought I ought to get everything out of\nher that I could; so every day at low water I went on board, and\nbrought away something or other; but particularly the third time I went\nI brought away as much of the rigging as I could, as also all the small\nropes and rope-twine I could get, with a piece of spare canvas, which\nwas to mend the sails upon occasion, and the barrel of wet gunpowder.\nIn a word, I brought away all the sails, first and last; only that I\nwas fain to cut them in pieces, and bring as much at a time as I could,\nfor they were no more useful to be sails, but as mere canvas only.\nBut that which comforted me more still, was, that last of all, after I\nhad made five or six such voyages as these, and thought I had nothing\nmore to expect from the ship that was worth my meddling with\u2014I say,\nafter all this, I found a great hogshead of bread, three large runlets\nof rum, or spirits, a box of sugar, and a barrel of fine flour; this\nwas surprising to me, because I had given over expecting any more\nprovisions, except what was spoiled by the water. I soon emptied the\nhogshead of the bread, and wrapped it up, parcel by parcel, in pieces\nof the sails, which I cut out; and, in a word, I got all this safe on\nshore also.\nThe next day I made another voyage, and now, having plundered the ship\nof what was portable and fit to hand out, I began with the cables.\nCutting the great cable into pieces, such as I could move, I got two\ncables and a hawser on shore, with all the ironwork I could get; and\nhaving cut down the spritsail-yard, and the mizzen-yard, and everything\nI could, to make a large raft, I loaded it with all these heavy goods,\nand came away. But my good luck began now to leave me; for this raft\nwas so unwieldy, and so overladen, that, after I had entered the little\ncove where I had landed the rest of my goods, not being able to guide\nit so handily as I did the other, it overset, and threw me and all my\ncargo into the water. As for myself, it was no great harm, for I was\nnear the shore; but as to my cargo, it was a great part of it lost,\nespecially the iron, which I expected would have been of great use to\nme; however, when the tide was out, I got most of the pieces of the\ncable ashore, and some of the iron, though with infinite labour; for I\nwas fain to dip for it into the water, a work which fatigued me very\nmuch. After this, I went every day on board, and brought away what I\ncould get.\nI had been now thirteen days on shore, and had been eleven times on\nboard the ship, in which time I had brought away all that one pair of\nhands could well be supposed capable to bring; though I believe verily,\nhad the calm weather held, I should have brought away the whole ship,\npiece by piece. But preparing the twelfth time to go on board, I found\nthe wind began to rise: however, at low water I went on board, and\nthough I thought I had rummaged the cabin so effectually that nothing\nmore could be found, yet I discovered a locker with drawers in it, in\none of which I found two or three razors, and one pair of large\nscissors, with some ten or a dozen of good knives and forks: in another\nI found about thirty-six pounds value in money\u2014some European coin, some\nBrazil, some pieces of eight, some gold, and some silver.\nI smiled to myself at the sight of this money: \u201cO drug!\u201d said I, aloud,\n\u201cwhat art thou good for? Thou art not worth to me\u2014no, not the taking\noff the ground; one of those knives is worth all this heap; I have no\nmanner of use for thee\u2014e\u2019en remain where thou art, and go to the bottom\nas a creature whose life is not worth saving.\u201d However, upon second\nthoughts I took it away; and wrapping all this in a piece of canvas, I\nbegan to think of making another raft; but while I was preparing this,\nI found the sky overcast, and the wind began to rise, and in a quarter\nof an hour it blew a fresh gale from the shore. It presently occurred\nto me that it was in vain to pretend to make a raft with the wind\noffshore; and that it was my business to be gone before the tide of\nflood began, otherwise I might not be able to reach the shore at all.\nAccordingly, I let myself down into the water, and swam across the\nchannel, which lay between the ship and the sands, and even that with\ndifficulty enough, partly with the weight of the things I had about me,\nand partly the roughness of the water; for the wind rose very hastily,\nand before it was quite high water it blew a storm.\nBut I had got home to my little tent, where I lay, with all my wealth\nabout me, very secure. It blew very hard all night, and in the morning,\nwhen I looked out, behold, no more ship was to be seen! I was a little\nsurprised, but recovered myself with the satisfactory reflection that I\nhad lost no time, nor abated any diligence, to get everything out of\nher that could be useful to me; and that, indeed, there was little left\nin her that I was able to bring away, if I had had more time.\nI now gave over any more thoughts of the ship, or of anything out of\nher, except what might drive on shore from her wreck; as, indeed,\ndivers pieces of her afterwards did; but those things were of small use\nto me.\nMy thoughts were now wholly employed about securing myself against\neither savages, if any should appear, or wild beasts, if any were in\nthe island; and I had many thoughts of the method how to do this, and\nwhat kind of dwelling to make\u2014whether I should make me a cave in the\nearth, or a tent upon the earth; and, in short, I resolved upon both;\nthe manner and description of which, it may not be improper to give an\naccount of.\nI soon found the place I was in was not fit for my settlement, because\nit was upon a low, moorish ground, near the sea, and I believed it\nwould not be wholesome, and more particularly because there was no\nfresh water near it; so I resolved to find a more healthy and more\nconvenient spot of ground.\nI consulted several things in my situation, which I found would be\nproper for me: 1st, health and fresh water, I just now mentioned;\n2ndly, shelter from the heat of the sun; 3rdly, security from ravenous\ncreatures, whether man or beast; 4thly, a view to the sea, that if God\nsent any ship in sight, I might not lose any advantage for my\ndeliverance, of which I was not willing to banish all my expectation\nyet.\nIn search of a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the\nside of a rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep\nas a house-side, so that nothing could come down upon me from the top.\nOn the one side of the rock there was a hollow place, worn a little way\nin, like the entrance or door of a cave but there was not really any\ncave or way into the rock at all.\nOn the flat of the green, just before this hollow place, I resolved to\npitch my tent. This plain was not above a hundred yards broad, and\nabout twice as long, and lay like a green before my door; and, at the\nend of it, descended irregularly every way down into the low ground by\nthe seaside. It was on the N.N.W. side of the hill; so that it was\nsheltered from the heat every day, till it came to a W. and by S. sun,\nor thereabouts, which, in those countries, is near the setting.\nBefore I set up my tent I drew a half-circle before the hollow place,\nwhich took in about ten yards in its semi-diameter from the rock, and\ntwenty yards in its diameter from its beginning and ending.\nIn this half-circle I pitched two rows of strong stakes, driving them\ninto the ground till they stood very firm like piles, the biggest end\nbeing out of the ground above five feet and a half, and sharpened on\nthe top. The two rows did not stand above six inches from one another.\nThen I took the pieces of cable which I had cut in the ship, and laid\nthem in rows, one upon another, within the circle, between these two\nrows of stakes, up to the top, placing other stakes in the inside,\nleaning against them, about two feet and a half high, like a spur to a\npost; and this fence was so strong, that neither man nor beast could\nget into it or over it. This cost me a great deal of time and labour,\nespecially to cut the piles in the woods, bring them to the place, and\ndrive them into the earth.\nThe entrance into this place I made to be, not by a door, but by a\nshort ladder to go over the top; which ladder, when I was in, I lifted\nover after me; and so I was completely fenced in and fortified, as I\nthought, from all the world, and consequently slept secure in the\nnight, which otherwise I could not have done; though, as it appeared\nafterwards, there was no need of all this caution from the enemies that\nI apprehended danger from.\nInto this fence or fortress, with infinite labour, I carried all my\nriches, all my provisions, ammunition, and stores, of which you have\nthe account above; and I made a large tent, which to preserve me from\nthe rains that in one part of the year are very violent there, I made\ndouble\u2014one smaller tent within, and one larger tent above it; and\ncovered the uppermost with a large tarpaulin, which I had saved among\nthe sails.\nAnd now I lay no more for a while in the bed which I had brought on\nshore, but in a hammock, which was indeed a very good one, and belonged\nto the mate of the ship.\nInto this tent I brought all my provisions, and everything that would\nspoil by the wet; and having thus enclosed all my goods, I made up the\nentrance, which till now I had left open, and so passed and repassed,\nas I said, by a short ladder.\nWhen I had done this, I began to work my way into the rock, and\nbringing all the earth and stones that I dug down out through my tent,\nI laid them up within my fence, in the nature of a terrace, so that it\nraised the ground within about a foot and a half; and thus I made me a\ncave, just behind my tent, which served me like a cellar to my house.\nIt cost me much labour and many days before all these things were\nbrought to perfection; and therefore I must go back to some other\nthings which took up some of my thoughts. At the same time it happened,\nafter I had laid my scheme for the setting up my tent, and making the\ncave, that a storm of rain falling from a thick, dark cloud, a sudden\nflash of lightning happened, and after that a great clap of thunder, as\nis naturally the effect of it. I was not so much surprised with the\nlightning as I was with the thought which darted into my mind as swift\nas the lightning itself\u2014Oh, my powder! My very heart sank within me\nwhen I thought that, at one blast, all my powder might be destroyed; on\nwhich, not my defence only, but the providing my food, as I thought,\nentirely depended. I was nothing near so anxious about my own danger,\nthough, had the powder took fire, I should never have known who had\nhurt me.\nSuch impression did this make upon me, that after the storm was over I\nlaid aside all my works, my building and fortifying, and applied myself\nto make bags and boxes, to separate the powder, and to keep it a little\nand a little in a parcel, in the hope that, whatever might come, it\nmight not all take fire at once; and to keep it so apart that it should\nnot be possible to make one part fire another. I finished this work in\nabout a fortnight; and I think my powder, which in all was about two\nhundred and forty pounds weight, was divided in not less than a hundred\nparcels. As to the barrel that had been wet, I did not apprehend any\ndanger from that; so I placed it in my new cave, which, in my fancy, I\ncalled my kitchen; and the rest I hid up and down in holes among the\nrocks, so that no wet might come to it, marking very carefully where I\nlaid it.\nIn the interval of time while this was doing, I went out once at least\nevery day with my gun, as well to divert myself as to see if I could\nkill anything fit for food; and, as near as I could, to acquaint myself\nwith what the island produced. The first time I went out, I presently\ndiscovered that there were goats in the island, which was a great\nsatisfaction to me; but then it was attended with this misfortune to\nme\u2014viz. that they were so shy, so subtle, and so swift of foot, that it\nwas the most difficult thing in the world to come at them; but I was\nnot discouraged at this, not doubting but I might now and then shoot\none, as it soon happened; for after I had found their haunts a little,\nI laid wait in this manner for them: I observed if they saw me in the\nvalleys, though they were upon the rocks, they would run away, as in a\nterrible fright; but if they were feeding in the valleys, and I was\nupon the rocks, they took no notice of me; from whence I concluded\nthat, by the position of their optics, their sight was so directed\ndownward that they did not readily see objects that were above them; so\nafterwards I took this method\u2014I always climbed the rocks first, to get\nabove them, and then had frequently a fair mark.\nThe first shot I made among these creatures, I killed a she-goat, which\nhad a little kid by her, which she gave suck to, which grieved me\nheartily; for when the old one fell, the kid stood stock still by her,\ntill I came and took her up; and not only so, but when I carried the\nold one with me, upon my shoulders, the kid followed me quite to my\nenclosure; upon which I laid down the dam, and took the kid in my arms,\nand carried it over my pale, in hopes to have bred it up tame; but it\nwould not eat; so I was forced to kill it and eat it myself. These two\nsupplied me with flesh a great while, for I ate sparingly, and saved my\nprovisions, my bread especially, as much as possibly I could.\nHaving now fixed my habitation, I found it absolutely necessary to\nprovide a place to make a fire in, and fuel to burn: and what I did for\nthat, and also how I enlarged my cave, and what conveniences I made, I\nshall give a full account of in its place; but I must now give some\nlittle account of myself, and of my thoughts about living, which, it\nmay well be supposed, were not a few.\nI had a dismal prospect of my condition; for as I was not cast away\nupon that island without being driven, as is said, by a violent storm,\nquite out of the course of our intended voyage, and a great way, viz.\nsome hundreds of leagues, out of the ordinary course of the trade of\nmankind, I had great reason to consider it as a determination of\nHeaven, that in this desolate place, and in this desolate manner, I\nshould end my life. The tears would run plentifully down my face when I\nmade these reflections; and sometimes I would expostulate with myself\nwhy Providence should thus completely ruin His creatures, and render\nthem so absolutely miserable; so without help, abandoned, so entirely\ndepressed, that it could hardly be rational to be thankful for such a\nlife.\nBut something always returned swift upon me to check these thoughts,\nand to reprove me; and particularly one day, walking with my gun in my\nhand by the seaside, I was very pensive upon the subject of my present\ncondition, when reason, as it were, expostulated with me the other way,\nthus: \u201cWell, you are in a desolate condition, it is true; but, pray\nremember, where are the rest of you? Did not you come, eleven of you in\nthe boat? Where are the ten? Why were they not saved, and you lost? Why\nwere you singled out? Is it better to be here or there?\u201d And then I\npointed to the sea. All evils are to be considered with the good that\nis in them, and with what worse attends them.\nThen it occurred to me again, how well I was furnished for my\nsubsistence, and what would have been my case if it had not happened\n(which was a hundred thousand to one) that the ship floated from the\nplace where she first struck, and was driven so near to the shore that\nI had time to get all these things out of her; what would have been my\ncase, if I had been forced to have lived in the condition in which I at\nfirst came on shore, without necessaries of life, or necessaries to\nsupply and procure them? \u201cParticularly,\u201d said I, aloud (though to\nmyself), \u201cwhat should I have done without a gun, without ammunition,\nwithout any tools to make anything, or to work with, without clothes,\nbedding, a tent, or any manner of covering?\u201d and that now I had all\nthese to sufficient quantity, and was in a fair way to provide myself\nin such a manner as to live without my gun, when my ammunition was\nspent: so that I had a tolerable view of subsisting, without any want,\nas long as I lived; for I considered from the beginning how I would\nprovide for the accidents that might happen, and for the time that was\nto come, even not only after my ammunition should be spent, but even\nafter my health and strength should decay.\nI confess I had not entertained any notion of my ammunition being\ndestroyed at one blast\u2014I mean my powder being blown up by lightning;\nand this made the thoughts of it so surprising to me, when it lightened\nand thundered, as I observed just now.\nAnd now being about to enter into a melancholy relation of a scene of\nsilent life, such, perhaps, as was never heard of in the world before,\nI shall take it from its beginning, and continue it in its order. It\nwas by my account the 30th of September, when, in the manner as above\nsaid, I first set foot upon this horrid island; when the sun, being to\nus in its autumnal equinox, was almost over my head; for I reckoned\nmyself, by observation, to be in the latitude of nine degrees\ntwenty-two minutes north of the line.\nAfter I had been there about ten or twelve days, it came into my\nthoughts that I should lose my reckoning of time for want of books, and\npen and ink, and should even forget the Sabbath days; but to prevent\nthis, I cut with my knife upon a large post, in capital letters\u2014and\nmaking it into a great cross, I set it up on the shore where I first\nlanded\u2014\u201cI came on shore here on the 30th September 1659.\u201d\nUpon the sides of this square post I cut every day a notch with my\nknife, and every seventh notch was as long again as the rest, and every\nfirst day of the month as long again as that long one; and thus I kept\nmy calendar, or weekly, monthly, and yearly reckoning of time.\nIn the next place, we are to observe that among the many things which I\nbrought out of the ship, in the several voyages which, as above\nmentioned, I made to it, I got several things of less value, but not at\nall less useful to me, which I omitted setting down before; as, in\nparticular, pens, ink, and paper, several parcels in the captain\u2019s,\nmate\u2019s, gunner\u2019s and carpenter\u2019s keeping; three or four compasses, some\nmathematical instruments, dials, perspectives, charts, and books of\nnavigation, all which I huddled together, whether I might want them or\nno; also, I found three very good Bibles, which came to me in my cargo\nfrom England, and which I had packed up among my things; some\nPortuguese books also; and among them two or three Popish prayer-books,\nand several other books, all which I carefully secured. And I must not\nforget that we had in the ship a dog and two cats, of whose eminent\nhistory I may have occasion to say something in its place; for I\ncarried both the cats with me; and as for the dog, he jumped out of the\nship of himself, and swam on shore to me the day after I went on shore\nwith my first cargo, and was a trusty servant to me many years; I\nwanted nothing that he could fetch me, nor any company that he could\nmake up to me; I only wanted to have him talk to me, but that would not\ndo. As I observed before, I found pens, ink, and paper, and I husbanded\nthem to the utmost; and I shall show that while my ink lasted, I kept\nthings very exact, but after that was gone I could not, for I could not\nmake any ink by any means that I could devise.\nAnd this put me in mind that I wanted many things notwithstanding all\nthat I had amassed together; and of these, ink was one; as also a\nspade, pickaxe, and shovel, to dig or remove the earth; needles, pins,\nand thread; as for linen, I soon learned to want that without much\ndifficulty.\nThis want of tools made every work I did go on heavily; and it was near\na whole year before I had entirely finished my little pale, or\nsurrounded my habitation. The piles, or stakes, which were as heavy as\nI could well lift, were a long time in cutting and preparing in the\nwoods, and more, by far, in bringing home; so that I spent sometimes\ntwo days in cutting and bringing home one of those posts, and a third\nday in driving it into the ground; for which purpose I got a heavy\npiece of wood at first, but at last bethought myself of one of the iron\ncrows; which, however, though I found it, made driving those posts or\npiles very laborious and tedious work.\nBut what need I have been concerned at the tediousness of anything I\nhad to do, seeing I had time enough to do it in? nor had I any other\nemployment, if that had been over, at least that I could foresee,\nexcept the ranging the island to seek for food, which I did, more or\nless, every day.\nI now began to consider seriously my condition, and the circumstances I\nwas reduced to; and I drew up the state of my affairs in writing, not\nso much to leave them to any that were to come after me\u2014for I was\nlikely to have but few heirs\u2014as to deliver my thoughts from daily\nporing over them, and afflicting my mind; and as my reason began now to\nmaster my despondency, I began to comfort myself as well as I could,\nand to set the good against the evil, that I might have something to\ndistinguish my case from worse; and I stated very impartially, like\ndebtor and creditor, the comforts I enjoyed against the miseries I\nsuffered, thus:\u2014\n_Evil_.\n_Good_.\nI am cast upon a horrible, desolate island, void of all hope of\nrecovery.\nBut I am alive; and not drowned, as all my ship\u2019s company were.\nI am singled out and separated, as it were, from all the world, to be\nmiserable.\nBut I am singled out, too, from all the ship\u2019s crew, to be spared from\ndeath; and He that miraculously saved me from death can deliver me from\nthis condition.\nI am divided from mankind\u2014a solitaire; one banished from human society.\nBut I am not starved, and perishing on a barren place, affording no\nsustenance.\nI have no clothes to cover me.\nBut I am in a hot climate, where, if I had clothes, I could hardly wear\nthem.\nI am without any defence, or means to resist any violence of man or\nbeast.\nBut I am cast on an island where I see no wild beasts to hurt me, as I\nsaw on the coast of Africa; and what if I had been shipwrecked there?\nI have no soul to speak to or relieve me.\nBut God wonderfully sent the ship in near enough to the shore, that I\nhave got out as many necessary things as will either supply my wants or\nenable me to supply myself, even as long as I live.\nUpon the whole, here was an undoubted testimony that there was scarce\nany condition in the world so miserable but there was something\nnegative or something positive to be thankful for in it; and let this\nstand as a direction from the experience of the most miserable of all\nconditions in this world: that we may always find in it something to\ncomfort ourselves from, and to set, in the description of good and\nevil, on the credit side of the account.\nHaving now brought my mind a little to relish my condition, and given\nover looking out to sea, to see if I could spy a ship\u2014I say, giving\nover these things, I began to apply myself to arrange my way of living,\nand to make things as easy to me as I could.\nI have already described my habitation, which was a tent under the side\nof a rock, surrounded with a strong pale of posts and cables: but I\nmight now rather call it a wall, for I raised a kind of wall up against\nit of turfs, about two feet thick on the outside; and after some time\n(I think it was a year and a half) I raised rafters from it, leaning to\nthe rock, and thatched or covered it with boughs of trees, and such\nthings as I could get, to keep out the rain; which I found at some\ntimes of the year very violent.\nI have already observed how I brought all my goods into this pale, and\ninto the cave which I had made behind me. But I must observe, too, that\nat first this was a confused heap of goods, which, as they lay in no\norder, so they took up all my place; I had no room to turn myself: so I\nset myself to enlarge my cave, and work farther into the earth; for it\nwas a loose sandy rock, which yielded easily to the labour I bestowed\non it: and so when I found I was pretty safe as to beasts of prey, I\nworked sideways, to the right hand, into the rock; and then, turning to\nthe right again, worked quite out, and made me a door to come out on\nthe outside of my pale or fortification. This gave me not only egress\nand regress, as it was a back way to my tent and to my storehouse, but\ngave me room to store my goods.\nAnd now I began to apply myself to make such necessary things as I\nfound I most wanted, particularly a chair and a table; for without\nthese I was not able to enjoy the few comforts I had in the world; I\ncould not write or eat, or do several things, with so much pleasure\nwithout a table: so I went to work. And here I must needs observe, that\nas reason is the substance and origin of the mathematics, so by stating\nand squaring everything by reason, and by making the most rational\njudgment of things, every man may be, in time, master of every mechanic\nart. I had never handled a tool in my life; and yet, in time, by\nlabour, application, and contrivance, I found at last that I wanted\nnothing but I could have made it, especially if I had had tools.\nHowever, I made abundance of things, even without tools; and some with\nno more tools than an adze and a hatchet, which perhaps were never made\nthat way before, and that with infinite labour. For example, if I\nwanted a board, I had no other way but to cut down a tree, set it on an\nedge before me, and hew it flat on either side with my axe, till I\nbrought it to be thin as a plank, and then dub it smooth with my adze.\nIt is true, by this method I could make but one board out of a whole\ntree; but this I had no remedy for but patience, any more than I had\nfor the prodigious deal of time and labour which it took me up to make\na plank or board: but my time or labour was little worth, and so it was\nas well employed one way as another.\nHowever, I made me a table and a chair, as I observed above, in the\nfirst place; and this I did out of the short pieces of boards that I\nbrought on my raft from the ship. But when I had wrought out some\nboards as above, I made large shelves, of the breadth of a foot and a\nhalf, one over another all along one side of my cave, to lay all my\ntools, nails and ironwork on; and, in a word, to separate everything at\nlarge into their places, that I might come easily at them. I knocked\npieces into the wall of the rock to hang my guns and all things that\nwould hang up; so that, had my cave been to be seen, it looked like a\ngeneral magazine of all necessary things; and had everything so ready\nat my hand, that it was a great pleasure to me to see all my goods in\nsuch order, and especially to find my stock of all necessaries so\ngreat.\nAnd now it was that I began to keep a journal of every day\u2019s\nemployment; for, indeed, at first I was in too much hurry, and not only\nhurry as to labour, but in too much discomposure of mind; and my\njournal would have been full of many dull things; for example, I must\nhave said thus: \u201c30_th_.\u2014After I had got to shore, and escaped\ndrowning, instead of being thankful to God for my deliverance, having\nfirst vomited, with the great quantity of salt water which had got into\nmy stomach, and recovering myself a little, I ran about the shore\nwringing my hands and beating my head and face, exclaiming at my\nmisery, and crying out, \u2018I was undone, undone!\u2019 till, tired and faint,\nI was forced to lie down on the ground to repose, but durst not sleep\nfor fear of being devoured.\u201d\nSome days after this, and after I had been on board the ship, and got\nall that I could out of her, yet I could not forbear getting up to the\ntop of a little mountain and looking out to sea, in hopes of seeing a\nship; then fancy at a vast distance I spied a sail, please myself with\nthe hopes of it, and then after looking steadily, till I was almost\nblind, lose it quite, and sit down and weep like a child, and thus\nincrease my misery by my folly.\nBut having gotten over these things in some measure, and having settled\nmy household staff and habitation, made me a table and a chair, and all\nas handsome about me as I could, I began to keep my journal; of which I\nshall here give you the copy (though in it will be told all these\nparticulars over again) as long as it lasted; for having no more ink, I\nwas forced to leave it off.\nCHAPTER V. BUILDS A HOUSE\u2014THE JOURNAL\nSeptember 30, 1659.\u2014I, poor miserable Robinson Crusoe, being\nshipwrecked during a dreadful storm in the offing, came on shore on\nthis dismal, unfortunate island, which I called \u201cThe Island of\nDespair\u201d; all the rest of the ship\u2019s company being drowned, and myself\nalmost dead.\nAll the rest of the day I spent in afflicting myself at the dismal\ncircumstances I was brought to\u2014viz. I had neither food, house, clothes,\nweapon, nor place to fly to; and in despair of any relief, saw nothing\nbut death before me\u2014either that I should be devoured by wild beasts,\nmurdered by savages, or starved to death for want of food. At the\napproach of night I slept in a tree, for fear of wild creatures; but\nslept soundly, though it rained all night.\n_October_ 1.\u2014In the morning I saw, to my great surprise, the ship had\nfloated with the high tide, and was driven on shore again much nearer\nthe island; which, as it was some comfort, on one hand\u2014for, seeing her\nset upright, and not broken to pieces, I hoped, if the wind abated, I\nmight get on board, and get some food and necessaries out of her for my\nrelief\u2014so, on the other hand, it renewed my grief at the loss of my\ncomrades, who, I imagined, if we had all stayed on board, might have\nsaved the ship, or, at least, that they would not have been all drowned\nas they were; and that, had the men been saved, we might perhaps have\nbuilt us a boat out of the ruins of the ship to have carried us to some\nother part of the world. I spent great part of this day in perplexing\nmyself on these things; but at length, seeing the ship almost dry, I\nwent upon the sand as near as I could, and then swam on board. This day\nalso it continued raining, though with no wind at all.\n_From the 1st of October to the 24th_.\u2014All these days entirely spent in\nmany several voyages to get all I could out of the ship, which I\nbrought on shore every tide of flood upon rafts. Much rain also in the\ndays, though with some intervals of fair weather; but it seems this was\nthe rainy season.\n_Oct._ 20.\u2014I overset my raft, and all the goods I had got upon it; but,\nbeing in shoal water, and the things being chiefly heavy, I recovered\nmany of them when the tide was out.\n_Oct._ 25.\u2014It rained all night and all day, with some gusts of wind;\nduring which time the ship broke in pieces, the wind blowing a little\nharder than before, and was no more to be seen, except the wreck of\nher, and that only at low water. I spent this day in covering and\nsecuring the goods which I had saved, that the rain might not spoil\nthem.\n_Oct._ 26.\u2014I walked about the shore almost all day, to find out a place\nto fix my habitation, greatly concerned to secure myself from any\nattack in the night, either from wild beasts or men. Towards night, I\nfixed upon a proper place, under a rock, and marked out a semicircle\nfor my encampment; which I resolved to strengthen with a work, wall, or\nfortification, made of double piles, lined within with cables, and\nwithout with turf.\nFrom the 26th to the 30th I worked very hard in carrying all my goods\nto my new habitation, though some part of the time it rained\nexceedingly hard.\nThe 31st, in the morning, I went out into the island with my gun, to\nseek for some food, and discover the country; when I killed a she-goat,\nand her kid followed me home, which I afterwards killed also, because\nit would not feed.\n_November_ 1.\u2014I set up my tent under a rock, and lay there for the\nfirst night; making it as large as I could, with stakes driven in to\nswing my hammock upon.\n_Nov._ 2.\u2014I set up all my chests and boards, and the pieces of timber\nwhich made my rafts, and with them formed a fence round me, a little\nwithin the place I had marked out for my fortification.\n_Nov._ 3.\u2014I went out with my gun, and killed two fowls like ducks,\nwhich were very good food. In the afternoon went to work to make me a\ntable.\n_Nov_. 4.\u2014This morning I began to order my times of work, of going out\nwith my gun, time of sleep, and time of diversion\u2014viz. every morning I\nwalked out with my gun for two or three hours, if it did not rain; then\nemployed myself to work till about eleven o\u2019clock; then eat what I had\nto live on; and from twelve to two I lay down to sleep, the weather\nbeing excessively hot; and then, in the evening, to work again. The\nworking part of this day and of the next were wholly employed in making\nmy table, for I was yet but a very sorry workman, though time and\nnecessity made me a complete natural mechanic soon after, as I believe\nthey would do any one else.\n_Nov._ 5.\u2014This day went abroad with my gun and my dog, and killed a\nwild cat; her skin pretty soft, but her flesh good for nothing; every\ncreature that I killed I took of the skins and preserved them. Coming\nback by the sea-shore, I saw many sorts of sea-fowls, which I did not\nunderstand; but was surprised, and almost frightened, with two or three\nseals, which, while I was gazing at, not well knowing what they were,\ngot into the sea, and escaped me for that time.\n_Nov._ 6.\u2014After my morning walk I went to work with my table again, and\nfinished it, though not to my liking; nor was it long before I learned\nto mend it.\n_Nov._ 7.\u2014Now it began to be settled fair weather. The 7th, 8th, 9th,\n10th, and part of the 12th (for the 11th was Sunday) I took wholly up\nto make me a chair, and with much ado brought it to a tolerable shape,\nbut never to please me; and even in the making I pulled it in pieces\nseveral times.\n_Note_.\u2014I soon neglected my keeping Sundays; for, omitting my mark for\nthem on my post, I forgot which was which.\n_Nov._ 13.\u2014This day it rained, which refreshed me exceedingly, and\ncooled the earth; but it was accompanied with terrible thunder and\nlightning, which frightened me dreadfully, for fear of my powder. As\nsoon as it was over, I resolved to separate my stock of powder into as\nmany little parcels as possible, that it might not be in danger.\n_Nov._ 14, 15, 16.\u2014These three days I spent in making little square\nchests, or boxes, which might hold about a pound, or two pounds at\nmost, of powder; and so, putting the powder in, I stowed it in places\nas secure and remote from one another as possible. On one of these\nthree days I killed a large bird that was good to eat, but I knew not\nwhat to call it.\n_Nov._ 17.\u2014This day I began to dig behind my tent into the rock, to\nmake room for my further conveniency.\n_Note_.\u2014Three things I wanted exceedingly for this work\u2014viz. a pickaxe,\na shovel, and a wheelbarrow or basket; so I desisted from my work, and\nbegan to consider how to supply that want, and make me some tools. As\nfor the pickaxe, I made use of the iron crows, which were proper\nenough, though heavy; but the next thing was a shovel or spade; this\nwas so absolutely necessary, that, indeed, I could do nothing\neffectually without it; but what kind of one to make I knew not.\n_Nov._ 18.\u2014The next day, in searching the woods, I found a tree of that\nwood, or like it, which in the Brazils they call the iron-tree, for its\nexceeding hardness. Of this, with great labour, and almost spoiling my\naxe, I cut a piece, and brought it home, too, with difficulty enough,\nfor it was exceeding heavy. The excessive hardness of the wood, and my\nhaving no other way, made me a long while upon this machine, for I\nworked it effectually by little and little into the form of a shovel or\nspade; the handle exactly shaped like ours in England, only that the\nboard part having no iron shod upon it at bottom, it would not last me\nso long; however, it served well enough for the uses which I had\noccasion to put it to; but never was a shovel, I believe, made after\nthat fashion, or so long in making.\nI was still deficient, for I wanted a basket or a wheelbarrow. A basket\nI could not make by any means, having no such things as twigs that\nwould bend to make wicker-ware\u2014at least, none yet found out; and as to\na wheelbarrow, I fancied I could make all but the wheel; but that I had\nno notion of; neither did I know how to go about it; besides, I had no\npossible way to make the iron gudgeons for the spindle or axis of the\nwheel to run in; so I gave it over, and so, for carrying away the earth\nwhich I dug out of the cave, I made me a thing like a hod which the\nlabourers carry mortar in when they serve the bricklayers. This was not\nso difficult to me as the making the shovel: and yet this and the\nshovel, and the attempt which I made in vain to make a wheelbarrow,\ntook me up no less than four days\u2014I mean always excepting my morning\nwalk with my gun, which I seldom failed, and very seldom failed also\nbringing home something fit to eat.\n_Nov._ 23.\u2014My other work having now stood still, because of my making\nthese tools, when they were finished I went on, and working every day,\nas my strength and time allowed, I spent eighteen days entirely in\nwidening and deepening my cave, that it might hold my goods\ncommodiously.\n_Note_.\u2014During all this time I worked to make this room or cave\nspacious enough to accommodate me as a warehouse or magazine, a\nkitchen, a dining-room, and a cellar. As for my lodging, I kept to the\ntent; except that sometimes, in the wet season of the year, it rained\nso hard that I could not keep myself dry, which caused me afterwards to\ncover all my place within my pale with long poles, in the form of\nrafters, leaning against the rock, and load them with flags and large\nleaves of trees, like a thatch.\n_December_ 10.\u2014I began now to think my cave or vault finished, when on\na sudden (it seems I had made it too large) a great quantity of earth\nfell down from the top on one side; so much that, in short, it frighted\nme, and not without reason, too, for if I had been under it, I had\nnever wanted a gravedigger. I had now a great deal of work to do over\nagain, for I had the loose earth to carry out; and, which was of more\nimportance, I had the ceiling to prop up, so that I might be sure no\nmore would come down.\n_Dec_. 11.\u2014This day I went to work with it accordingly, and got two\nshores or posts pitched upright to the top, with two pieces of boards\nacross over each post; this I finished the next day; and setting more\nposts up with boards, in about a week more I had the roof secured, and\nthe posts, standing in rows, served me for partitions to part off the\nhouse.\n_Dec._ 17.\u2014From this day to the 20th I placed shelves, and knocked up\nnails on the posts, to hang everything up that could be hung up; and\nnow I began to be in some order within doors.\n_Dec._ 20.\u2014Now I carried everything into the cave, and began to furnish\nmy house, and set up some pieces of boards like a dresser, to order my\nvictuals upon; but boards began to be very scarce with me; also, I made\nme another table.\n_Dec._ 24.\u2014Much rain all night and all day. No stirring out.\n_Dec._ 25.\u2014Rain all day.\n_Dec._ 26.\u2014No rain, and the earth much cooler than before, and\npleasanter.\n_Dec._ 27.\u2014Killed a young goat, and lamed another, so that I caught it\nand led it home in a string; when I had it at home, I bound and\nsplintered up its leg, which was broke.\n_N.B._\u2014I took such care of it that it lived, and the leg grew well and\nas strong as ever; but, by my nursing it so long, it grew tame, and fed\nupon the little green at my door, and would not go away. This was the\nfirst time that I entertained a thought of breeding up some tame\ncreatures, that I might have food when my powder and shot was all\nspent.\n_Dec._ 28, 29, 30.\u2014Great heats and no breeze, so that there was no\nstirring abroad except in the evening for food; this time I spent in\nputting all my things in order within doors.\n_January_ 1.\u2014Very hot still: but I went abroad early and late with my\ngun, and lay still in the middle of the day. This evening, going\nfarther into the valleys which lay towards the centre of the island, I\nfound there were plenty of goats, though exceedingly shy, and hard to\ncome at; however, I resolved to try if I could not bring my dog to hunt\nthem down.\n_Jan._ 2.\u2014Accordingly, the next day I went out with my dog, and set him\nupon the goats, but I was mistaken, for they all faced about upon the\ndog, and he knew his danger too well, for he would not come near them.\n_Jan._ 3.\u2014I began my fence or wall; which, being still jealous of my\nbeing attacked by somebody, I resolved to make very thick and strong.\n_N.B._\u2014This wall being described before, I purposely omit what was said\nin the journal; it is sufficient to observe, that I was no less time\nthan from the 2nd of January to the 14th of April working, finishing,\nand perfecting this wall, though it was no more than about twenty-four\nyards in length, being a half-circle from one place in the rock to\nanother place, about eight yards from it, the door of the cave being in\nthe centre behind it.\nAll this time I worked very hard, the rains hindering me many days,\nnay, sometimes weeks together; but I thought I should never be\nperfectly secure till this wall was finished; and it is scarce credible\nwhat inexpressible labour everything was done with, especially the\nbringing piles out of the woods and driving them into the ground; for I\nmade them much bigger than I needed to have done.\nWhen this wall was finished, and the outside double fenced, with a turf\nwall raised up close to it, I perceived myself that if any people were\nto come on shore there, they would not perceive anything like a\nhabitation; and it was very well I did so, as may be observed\nhereafter, upon a very remarkable occasion.\nDuring this time I made my rounds in the woods for game every day when\nthe rain permitted me, and made frequent discoveries in these walks of\nsomething or other to my advantage; particularly, I found a kind of\nwild pigeons, which build, not as wood-pigeons in a tree, but rather as\nhouse-pigeons, in the holes of the rocks; and taking some young ones, I\nendeavoured to breed them up tame, and did so; but when they grew older\nthey flew away, which perhaps was at first for want of feeding them,\nfor I had nothing to give them; however, I frequently found their\nnests, and got their young ones, which were very good meat. And now, in\nthe managing my household affairs, I found myself wanting in many\nthings, which I thought at first it was impossible for me to make; as,\nindeed, with some of them it was: for instance, I could never make a\ncask to be hooped. I had a small runlet or two, as I observed before;\nbut I could never arrive at the capacity of making one by them, though\nI spent many weeks about it; I could neither put in the heads, or join\nthe staves so true to one another as to make them hold water; so I gave\nthat also over. In the next place, I was at a great loss for candles;\nso that as soon as ever it was dark, which was generally by seven\no\u2019clock, I was obliged to go to bed. I remembered the lump of beeswax\nwith which I made candles in my African adventure; but I had none of\nthat now; the only remedy I had was, that when I had killed a goat I\nsaved the tallow, and with a little dish made of clay, which I baked in\nthe sun, to which I added a wick of some oakum, I made me a lamp; and\nthis gave me light, though not a clear, steady light, like a candle. In\nthe middle of all my labours it happened that, rummaging my things, I\nfound a little bag which, as I hinted before, had been filled with corn\nfor the feeding of poultry\u2014not for this voyage, but before, as I\nsuppose, when the ship came from Lisbon. The little remainder of corn\nthat had been in the bag was all devoured by the rats, and I saw\nnothing in the bag but husks and dust; and being willing to have the\nbag for some other use (I think it was to put powder in, when I divided\nit for fear of the lightning, or some such use), I shook the husks of\ncorn out of it on one side of my fortification, under the rock.\nIt was a little before the great rains just now mentioned that I threw\nthis stuff away, taking no notice, and not so much as remembering that\nI had thrown anything there, when, about a month after, or thereabouts,\nI saw some few stalks of something green shooting out of the ground,\nwhich I fancied might be some plant I had not seen; but I was\nsurprised, and perfectly astonished, when, after a little longer time,\nI saw about ten or twelve ears come out, which were perfect green\nbarley, of the same kind as our European\u2014nay, as our English barley.\nIt is impossible to express the astonishment and confusion of my\nthoughts on this occasion. I had hitherto acted upon no religious\nfoundation at all; indeed, I had very few notions of religion in my\nhead, nor had entertained any sense of anything that had befallen me\notherwise than as chance, or, as we lightly say, what pleases God,\nwithout so much as inquiring into the end of Providence in these\nthings, or His order in governing events for the world. But after I saw\nbarley grow there, in a climate which I knew was not proper for corn,\nand especially that I knew not how it came there, it startled me\nstrangely, and I began to suggest that God had miraculously caused His\ngrain to grow without any help of seed sown, and that it was so\ndirected purely for my sustenance on that wild, miserable place.\nThis touched my heart a little, and brought tears out of my eyes, and I\nbegan to bless myself that such a prodigy of nature should happen upon\nmy account; and this was the more strange to me, because I saw near it\nstill, all along by the side of the rock, some other straggling stalks,\nwhich proved to be stalks of rice, and which I knew, because I had seen\nit grow in Africa when I was ashore there.\nI not only thought these the pure productions of Providence for my\nsupport, but not doubting that there was more in the place, I went all\nover that part of the island, where I had been before, peering in every\ncorner, and under every rock, to see for more of it, but I could not\nfind any. At last it occurred to my thoughts that I shook a bag of\nchickens\u2019 meat out in that place; and then the wonder began to cease;\nand I must confess my religious thankfulness to God\u2019s providence began\nto abate, too, upon the discovering that all this was nothing but what\nwas common; though I ought to have been as thankful for so strange and\nunforeseen a providence as if it had been miraculous; for it was really\nthe work of Providence to me, that should order or appoint that ten or\ntwelve grains of corn should remain unspoiled, when the rats had\ndestroyed all the rest, as if it had been dropped from heaven; as also,\nthat I should throw it out in that particular place, where, it being in\nthe shade of a high rock, it sprang up immediately; whereas, if I had\nthrown it anywhere else at that time, it had been burnt up and\ndestroyed.\nI carefully saved the ears of this corn, you may be sure, in their\nseason, which was about the end of June; and, laying up every corn, I\nresolved to sow them all again, hoping in time to have some quantity\nsufficient to supply me with bread. But it was not till the fourth year\nthat I could allow myself the least grain of this corn to eat, and even\nthen but sparingly, as I shall say afterwards, in its order; for I lost\nall that I sowed the first season by not observing the proper time; for\nI sowed it just before the dry season, so that it never came up at all,\nat least not as it would have done; of which in its place.\nBesides this barley, there were, as above, twenty or thirty stalks of\nrice, which I preserved with the same care and for the same use, or to\nthe same purpose\u2014to make me bread, or rather food; for I found ways to\ncook it without baking, though I did that also after some time.\nBut to return to my Journal.\nI worked excessive hard these three or four months to get my wall done;\nand the 14th of April I closed it up, contriving to go into it, not by\na door but over the wall, by a ladder, that there might be no sign on\nthe outside of my habitation.\n_April_ 16.\u2014I finished the ladder; so I went up the ladder to the top,\nand then pulled it up after me, and let it down in the inside. This was\na complete enclosure to me; for within I had room enough, and nothing\ncould come at me from without, unless it could first mount my wall.\nThe very next day after this wall was finished I had almost had all my\nlabour overthrown at once, and myself killed. The case was thus: As I\nwas busy in the inside, behind my tent, just at the entrance into my\ncave, I was terribly frighted with a most dreadful, surprising thing\nindeed; for all on a sudden I found the earth come crumbling down from\nthe roof of my cave, and from the edge of the hill over my head, and\ntwo of the posts I had set up in the cave cracked in a frightful\nmanner. I was heartily scared; but thought nothing of what was really\nthe cause, only thinking that the top of my cave was fallen in, as some\nof it had done before: and for fear I should be buried in it I ran\nforward to my ladder, and not thinking myself safe there neither, I got\nover my wall for fear of the pieces of the hill, which I expected might\nroll down upon me. I had no sooner stepped down upon the firm ground,\nthan I plainly saw it was a terrible earthquake, for the ground I stood\non shook three times at about eight minutes\u2019 distance, with three such\nshocks as would have overturned the strongest building that could be\nsupposed to have stood on the earth; and a great piece of the top of a\nrock which stood about half a mile from me next the sea fell down with\nsuch a terrible noise as I never heard in all my life. I perceived also\nthe very sea was put into violent motion by it; and I believe the\nshocks were stronger under the water than on the island.\nI was so much amazed with the thing itself, having never felt the like,\nnor discoursed with any one that had, that I was like one dead or\nstupefied; and the motion of the earth made my stomach sick, like one\nthat was tossed at sea; but the noise of the falling of the rock\nawakened me, as it were, and rousing me from the stupefied condition I\nwas in, filled me with horror; and I thought of nothing then but the\nhill falling upon my tent and all my household goods, and burying all\nat once; and this sunk my very soul within me a second time.\nAfter the third shock was over, and I felt no more for some time, I\nbegan to take courage; and yet I had not heart enough to go over my\nwall again, for fear of being buried alive, but sat still upon the\nground greatly cast down and disconsolate, not knowing what to do. All\nthis while I had not the least serious religious thought; nothing but\nthe common \u201cLord have mercy upon me!\u201d and when it was over that went\naway too.\nWhile I sat thus, I found the air overcast and grow cloudy, as if it\nwould rain. Soon after that the wind arose by little and little, so\nthat in less than half-an-hour it blew a most dreadful hurricane; the\nsea was all on a sudden covered over with foam and froth; the shore was\ncovered with the breach of the water, the trees were torn up by the\nroots, and a terrible storm it was. This held about three hours, and\nthen began to abate; and in two hours more it was quite calm, and began\nto rain very hard. All this while I sat upon the ground very much\nterrified and dejected; when on a sudden it came into my thoughts, that\nthese winds and rain being the consequences of the earthquake, the\nearthquake itself was spent and over, and I might venture into my cave\nagain. With this thought my spirits began to revive; and the rain also\nhelping to persuade me, I went in and sat down in my tent. But the rain\nwas so violent that my tent was ready to be beaten down with it; and I\nwas forced to go into my cave, though very much afraid and uneasy, for\nfear it should fall on my head. This violent rain forced me to a new\nwork\u2014viz. to cut a hole through my new fortification, like a sink, to\nlet the water go out, which would else have flooded my cave. After I\nhad been in my cave for some time, and found still no more shocks of\nthe earthquake follow, I began to be more composed. And now, to support\nmy spirits, which indeed wanted it very much, I went to my little\nstore, and took a small sup of rum; which, however, I did then and\nalways very sparingly, knowing I could have no more when that was gone.\nIt continued raining all that night and great part of the next day, so\nthat I could not stir abroad; but my mind being more composed, I began\nto think of what I had best do; concluding that if the island was\nsubject to these earthquakes, there would be no living for me in a\ncave, but I must consider of building a little hut in an open place\nwhich I might surround with a wall, as I had done here, and so make\nmyself secure from wild beasts or men; for I concluded, if I stayed\nwhere I was, I should certainly one time or other be buried alive.\nWith these thoughts, I resolved to remove my tent from the place where\nit stood, which was just under the hanging precipice of the hill; and\nwhich, if it should be shaken again, would certainly fall upon my tent;\nand I spent the two next days, being the 19th and 20th of April, in\ncontriving where and how to remove my habitation. The fear of being\nswallowed up alive made me that I never slept in quiet; and yet the\napprehension of lying abroad without any fence was almost equal to it;\nbut still, when I looked about, and saw how everything was put in\norder, how pleasantly concealed I was, and how safe from danger, it\nmade me very loath to remove. In the meantime, it occurred to me that\nit would require a vast deal of time for me to do this, and that I must\nbe contented to venture where I was, till I had formed a camp for\nmyself, and had secured it so as to remove to it. So with this\nresolution I composed myself for a time, and resolved that I would go\nto work with all speed to build me a wall with piles and cables, &c.,\nin a circle, as before, and set my tent up in it when it was finished;\nbut that I would venture to stay where I was till it was finished, and\nfit to remove. This was the 21st.\n_April_ 22.\u2014The next morning I begin to consider of means to put this\nresolve into execution; but I was at a great loss about my tools. I had\nthree large axes, and abundance of hatchets (for we carried the\nhatchets for traffic with the Indians); but with much chopping and\ncutting knotty hard wood, they were all full of notches, and dull; and\nthough I had a grindstone, I could not turn it and grind my tools too.\nThis cost me as much thought as a statesman would have bestowed upon a\ngrand point of politics, or a judge upon the life and death of a man.\nAt length I contrived a wheel with a string, to turn it with my foot,\nthat I might have both my hands at liberty. _Note_.\u2014I had never seen\nany such thing in England, or at least, not to take notice how it was\ndone, though since I have observed, it is very common there; besides\nthat, my grindstone was very large and heavy. This machine cost me a\nfull week\u2019s work to bring it to perfection.\n_April_ 28, 29.\u2014These two whole days I took up in grinding my tools, my\nmachine for turning my grindstone performing very well.\n_April_ 30.\u2014Having perceived my bread had been low a great while, now I\ntook a survey of it, and reduced myself to one biscuit cake a day,\nwhich made my heart very heavy.\n_May_ 1.\u2014In the morning, looking towards the sea side, the tide being\nlow, I saw something lie on the shore bigger than ordinary, and it\nlooked like a cask; when I came to it, I found a small barrel, and two\nor three pieces of the wreck of the ship, which were driven on shore by\nthe late hurricane; and looking towards the wreck itself, I thought it\nseemed to lie higher out of the water than it used to do. I examined\nthe barrel which was driven on shore, and soon found it was a barrel of\ngunpowder; but it had taken water, and the powder was caked as hard as\na stone; however, I rolled it farther on shore for the present, and\nwent on upon the sands, as near as I could to the wreck of the ship, to\nlook for more.\nCHAPTER VI. ILL AND CONSCIENCE-STRICKEN\nWhen I came down to the ship I found it strangely removed. The\nforecastle, which lay before buried in sand, was heaved up at least six\nfeet, and the stern, which was broke in pieces and parted from the rest\nby the force of the sea, soon after I had left rummaging her, was\ntossed as it were up, and cast on one side; and the sand was thrown so\nhigh on that side next her stern, that whereas there was a great place\nof water before, so that I could not come within a quarter of a mile of\nthe wreck without swimming I could now walk quite up to her when the\ntide was out. I was surprised with this at first, but soon concluded it\nmust be done by the earthquake; and as by this violence the ship was\nmore broke open than formerly, so many things came daily on shore,\nwhich the sea had loosened, and which the winds and water rolled by\ndegrees to the land.\nThis wholly diverted my thoughts from the design of removing my\nhabitation, and I busied myself mightily, that day especially, in\nsearching whether I could make any way into the ship; but I found\nnothing was to be expected of that kind, for all the inside of the ship\nwas choked up with sand. However, as I had learned not to despair of\nanything, I resolved to pull everything to pieces that I could of the\nship, concluding that everything I could get from her would be of some\nuse or other to me.\n_May_ 3.\u2014I began with my saw, and cut a piece of a beam through, which\nI thought held some of the upper part or quarter-deck together, and\nwhen I had cut it through, I cleared away the sand as well as I could\nfrom the side which lay highest; but the tide coming in, I was obliged\nto give over for that time.\n_May_ 4.\u2014I went a-fishing, but caught not one fish that I durst eat of,\ntill I was weary of my sport; when, just going to leave off, I caught a\nyoung dolphin. I had made me a long line of some rope-yarn, but I had\nno hooks; yet I frequently caught fish enough, as much as I cared to\neat; all which I dried in the sun, and ate them dry.\n_May_ 5.\u2014Worked on the wreck; cut another beam asunder, and brought\nthree great fir planks off from the decks, which I tied together, and\nmade to float on shore when the tide of flood came on.\n_May_ 6.\u2014Worked on the wreck; got several iron bolts out of her and\nother pieces of ironwork. Worked very hard, and came home very much\ntired, and had thoughts of giving it over.\n_May_ 7.\u2014Went to the wreck again, not with an intent to work, but found\nthe weight of the wreck had broke itself down, the beams being cut;\nthat several pieces of the ship seemed to lie loose, and the inside of\nthe hold lay so open that I could see into it; but it was almost full\nof water and sand.\n_May_ 8.\u2014Went to the wreck, and carried an iron crow to wrench up the\ndeck, which lay now quite clear of the water or sand. I wrenched open\ntwo planks, and brought them on shore also with the tide. I left the\niron crow in the wreck for next day.\n_May_ 9.\u2014Went to the wreck, and with the crow made way into the body of\nthe wreck, and felt several casks, and loosened them with the crow, but\ncould not break them up. I felt also a roll of English lead, and could\nstir it, but it was too heavy to remove.\n_May_ 10\u201314.\u2014Went every day to the wreck; and got a great many pieces\nof timber, and boards, or plank, and two or three hundredweight of\niron.\n_May_ 15.\u2014I carried two hatchets, to try if I could not cut a piece off\nthe roll of lead by placing the edge of one hatchet and driving it with\nthe other; but as it lay about a foot and a half in the water, I could\nnot make any blow to drive the hatchet.\n_May_ 16.\u2014It had blown hard in the night, and the wreck appeared more\nbroken by the force of the water; but I stayed so long in the woods, to\nget pigeons for food, that the tide prevented my going to the wreck\nthat day.\n_May_ 17.\u2014I saw some pieces of the wreck blown on shore, at a great\ndistance, near two miles off me, but resolved to see what they were,\nand found it was a piece of the head, but too heavy for me to bring\naway.\n_May_ 24.\u2014Every day, to this day, I worked on the wreck; and with hard\nlabour I loosened some things so much with the crow, that the first\nflowing tide several casks floated out, and two of the seamen\u2019s chests;\nbut the wind blowing from the shore, nothing came to land that day but\npieces of timber, and a hogshead, which had some Brazil pork in it; but\nthe salt water and the sand had spoiled it. I continued this work every\nday to the 15th of June, except the time necessary to get food, which I\nalways appointed, during this part of my employment, to be when the\ntide was up, that I might be ready when it was ebbed out; and by this\ntime I had got timber and plank and ironwork enough to have built a\ngood boat, if I had known how; and also I got, at several times and in\nseveral pieces, near one hundredweight of the sheet lead.\n_June_ 16.\u2014Going down to the seaside, I found a large tortoise or\nturtle. This was the first I had seen, which, it seems, was only my\nmisfortune, not any defect of the place, or scarcity; for had I\nhappened to be on the other side of the island, I might have had\nhundreds of them every day, as I found afterwards; but perhaps had paid\ndear enough for them.\n_June_ 17.\u2014I spent in cooking the turtle. I found in her three-score\neggs; and her flesh was to me, at that time, the most savoury and\npleasant that ever I tasted in my life, having had no flesh, but of\ngoats and fowls, since I landed in this horrid place.\n_June_ 18.\u2014Rained all day, and I stayed within. I thought at this time\nthe rain felt cold, and I was something chilly; which I knew was not\nusual in that latitude.\n_June_ 19.\u2014Very ill, and shivering, as if the weather had been cold.\n_June_ 20.\u2014No rest all night; violent pains in my head, and feverish.\n_June_ 21.\u2014Very ill; frighted almost to death with the apprehensions of\nmy sad condition\u2014to be sick, and no help. Prayed to God, for the first\ntime since the storm off Hull, but scarce knew what I said, or why, my\nthoughts being all confused.\n_June_ 22.\u2014A little better; but under dreadful apprehensions of\nsickness.\n_June_ 23.\u2014Very bad again; cold and shivering, and then a violent\nheadache.\n_June_ 24.\u2014Much better.\n_June_ 25.\u2014An ague very violent; the fit held me seven hours; cold fit\nand hot, with faint sweats after it.\n_June_ 26.\u2014Better; and having no victuals to eat, took my gun, but\nfound myself very weak. However, I killed a she-goat, and with much\ndifficulty got it home, and broiled some of it, and ate, I would fain\nhave stewed it, and made some broth, but had no pot.\n_June_ 27.\u2014The ague again so violent that I lay a-bed all day, and\nneither ate nor drank. I was ready to perish for thirst; but so weak, I\nhad not strength to stand up, or to get myself any water to drink.\nPrayed to God again, but was light-headed; and when I was not, I was so\nignorant that I knew not what to say; only I lay and cried, \u201cLord, look\nupon me! Lord, pity me! Lord, have mercy upon me!\u201d I suppose I did\nnothing else for two or three hours; till, the fit wearing off, I fell\nasleep, and did not wake till far in the night. When I awoke, I found\nmyself much refreshed, but weak, and exceeding thirsty. However, as I\nhad no water in my habitation, I was forced to lie till morning, and\nwent to sleep again. In this second sleep I had this terrible dream: I\nthought that I was sitting on the ground, on the outside of my wall,\nwhere I sat when the storm blew after the earthquake, and that I saw a\nman descend from a great black cloud, in a bright flame of fire, and\nlight upon the ground. He was all over as bright as a flame, so that I\ncould but just bear to look towards him; his countenance was most\ninexpressibly dreadful, impossible for words to describe. When he\nstepped upon the ground with his feet, I thought the earth trembled,\njust as it had done before in the earthquake, and all the air looked,\nto my apprehension, as if it had been filled with flashes of fire. He\nwas no sooner landed upon the earth, but he moved forward towards me,\nwith a long spear or weapon in his hand, to kill me; and when he came\nto a rising ground, at some distance, he spoke to me\u2014or I heard a voice\nso terrible that it is impossible to express the terror of it. All that\nI can say I understood was this: \u201cSeeing all these things have not\nbrought thee to repentance, now thou shalt die;\u201d at which words, I\nthought he lifted up the spear that was in his hand to kill me.\nNo one that shall ever read this account will expect that I should be\nable to describe the horrors of my soul at this terrible vision. I\nmean, that even while it was a dream, I even dreamed of those horrors.\nNor is it any more possible to describe the impression that remained\nupon my mind when I awaked, and found it was but a dream.\nI had, alas! no divine knowledge. What I had received by the good\ninstruction of my father was then worn out by an uninterrupted series,\nfor eight years, of seafaring wickedness, and a constant conversation\nwith none but such as were, like myself, wicked and profane to the last\ndegree. I do not remember that I had, in all that time, one thought\nthat so much as tended either to looking upwards towards God, or\ninwards towards a reflection upon my own ways; but a certain stupidity\nof soul, without desire of good, or conscience of evil, had entirely\noverwhelmed me; and I was all that the most hardened, unthinking,\nwicked creature among our common sailors can be supposed to be; not\nhaving the least sense, either of the fear of God in danger, or of\nthankfulness to God in deliverance.\nIn the relating what is already past of my story, this will be the more\neasily believed when I shall add, that through all the variety of\nmiseries that had to this day befallen me, I never had so much as one\nthought of it being the hand of God, or that it was a just punishment\nfor my sin\u2014my rebellious behaviour against my father\u2014or my present\nsins, which were great\u2014or so much as a punishment for the general\ncourse of my wicked life. When I was on the desperate expedition on the\ndesert shores of Africa, I never had so much as one thought of what\nwould become of me, or one wish to God to direct me whither I should\ngo, or to keep me from the danger which apparently surrounded me, as\nwell from voracious creatures as cruel savages. But I was merely\nthoughtless of a God or a Providence, acted like a mere brute, from the\nprinciples of nature, and by the dictates of common sense only, and,\nindeed, hardly that. When I was delivered and taken up at sea by the\nPortugal captain, well used, and dealt justly and honourably with, as\nwell as charitably, I had not the least thankfulness in my thoughts.\nWhen, again, I was shipwrecked, ruined, and in danger of drowning on\nthis island, I was as far from remorse, or looking on it as a judgment.\nI only said to myself often, that I was an unfortunate dog, and born to\nbe always miserable.\nIt is true, when I got on shore first here, and found all my ship\u2019s\ncrew drowned and myself spared, I was surprised with a kind of ecstasy,\nand some transports of soul, which, had the grace of God assisted,\nmight have come up to true thankfulness; but it ended where it began,\nin a mere common flight of joy, or, as I may say, being glad I was\nalive, without the least reflection upon the distinguished goodness of\nthe hand which had preserved me, and had singled me out to be preserved\nwhen all the rest were destroyed, or an inquiry why Providence had been\nthus merciful unto me. Even just the same common sort of joy which\nseamen generally have, after they are got safe ashore from a shipwreck,\nwhich they drown all in the next bowl of punch, and forget almost as\nsoon as it is over; and all the rest of my life was like it. Even when\nI was afterwards, on due consideration, made sensible of my condition,\nhow I was cast on this dreadful place, out of the reach of human kind,\nout of all hope of relief, or prospect of redemption, as soon as I saw\nbut a prospect of living and that I should not starve and perish for\nhunger, all the sense of my affliction wore off; and I began to be very\neasy, applied myself to the works proper for my preservation and\nsupply, and was far enough from being afflicted at my condition, as a\njudgment from heaven, or as the hand of God against me: these were\nthoughts which very seldom entered my head.\nThe growing up of the corn, as is hinted in my Journal, had at first\nsome little influence upon me, and began to affect me with seriousness,\nas long as I thought it had something miraculous in it; but as soon as\never that part of the thought was removed, all the impression that was\nraised from it wore off also, as I have noted already. Even the\nearthquake, though nothing could be more terrible in its nature, or\nmore immediately directing to the invisible Power which alone directs\nsuch things, yet no sooner was the first fright over, but the\nimpression it had made went off also. I had no more sense of God or His\njudgments\u2014much less of the present affliction of my circumstances being\nfrom His hand\u2014than if I had been in the most prosperous condition of\nlife. But now, when I began to be sick, and a leisurely view of the\nmiseries of death came to place itself before me; when my spirits began\nto sink under the burden of a strong distemper, and nature was\nexhausted with the violence of the fever; conscience, that had slept so\nlong, began to awake, and I began to reproach myself with my past life,\nin which I had so evidently, by uncommon wickedness, provoked the\njustice of God to lay me under uncommon strokes, and to deal with me in\nso vindictive a manner. These reflections oppressed me for the second\nor third day of my distemper; and in the violence, as well of the fever\nas of the dreadful reproaches of my conscience, extorted some words\nfrom me like praying to God, though I cannot say they were either a\nprayer attended with desires or with hopes: it was rather the voice of\nmere fright and distress. My thoughts were confused, the convictions\ngreat upon my mind, and the horror of dying in such a miserable\ncondition raised vapours into my head with the mere apprehensions; and\nin these hurries of my soul I knew not what my tongue might express.\nBut it was rather exclamation, such as, \u201cLord, what a miserable\ncreature am I! If I should be sick, I shall certainly die for want of\nhelp; and what will become of me!\u201d Then the tears burst out of my eyes,\nand I could say no more for a good while. In this interval the good\nadvice of my father came to my mind, and presently his prediction,\nwhich I mentioned at the beginning of this story\u2014viz. that if I did\ntake this foolish step, God would not bless me, and I would have\nleisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel when\nthere might be none to assist in my recovery. \u201cNow,\u201d said I, aloud, \u201cmy\ndear father\u2019s words are come to pass; God\u2019s justice has overtaken me,\nand I have none to help or hear me. I rejected the voice of Providence,\nwhich had mercifully put me in a posture or station of life wherein I\nmight have been happy and easy; but I would neither see it myself nor\nlearn to know the blessing of it from my parents. I left them to mourn\nover my folly, and now I am left to mourn under the consequences of it.\nI abused their help and assistance, who would have lifted me in the\nworld, and would have made everything easy to me; and now I have\ndifficulties to struggle with, too great for even nature itself to\nsupport, and no assistance, no help, no comfort, no advice.\u201d Then I\ncried out, \u201cLord, be my help, for I am in great distress.\u201d This was the\nfirst prayer, if I may call it so, that I had made for many years.\nBut to return to my Journal.\n_June_ 28.\u2014Having been somewhat refreshed with the sleep I had had, and\nthe fit being entirely off, I got up; and though the fright and terror\nof my dream was very great, yet I considered that the fit of the ague\nwould return again the next day, and now was my time to get something\nto refresh and support myself when I should be ill; and the first thing\nI did, I filled a large square case-bottle with water, and set it upon\nmy table, in reach of my bed; and to take off the chill or aguish\ndisposition of the water, I put about a quarter of a pint of rum into\nit, and mixed them together. Then I got me a piece of the goat\u2019s flesh\nand broiled it on the coals, but could eat very little. I walked about,\nbut was very weak, and withal very sad and heavy-hearted under a sense\nof my miserable condition, dreading, the return of my distemper the\nnext day. At night I made my supper of three of the turtle\u2019s eggs,\nwhich I roasted in the ashes, and ate, as we call it, in the shell, and\nthis was the first bit of meat I had ever asked God\u2019s blessing to, that\nI could remember, in my whole life. After I had eaten I tried to walk,\nbut found myself so weak that I could hardly carry a gun, for I never\nwent out without that; so I went but a little way, and sat down upon\nthe ground, looking out upon the sea, which was just before me, and\nvery calm and smooth. As I sat here some such thoughts as these\noccurred to me: What is this earth and sea, of which I have seen so\nmuch? Whence is it produced? And what am I, and all the other creatures\nwild and tame, human and brutal? Whence are we? Sure we are all made by\nsome secret Power, who formed the earth and sea, the air and sky. And\nwho is that? Then it followed most naturally, it is God that has made\nall. Well, but then it came on strangely, if God has made all these\nthings, He guides and governs them all, and all things that concern\nthem; for the Power that could make all things must certainly have\npower to guide and direct them. If so, nothing can happen in the great\ncircuit of His works, either without His knowledge or appointment.\nAnd if nothing happens without His knowledge, He knows that I am here,\nand am in this dreadful condition; and if nothing happens without His\nappointment, He has appointed all this to befall me. Nothing occurred\nto my thought to contradict any of these conclusions, and therefore it\nrested upon me with the greater force, that it must needs be that God\nhad appointed all this to befall me; that I was brought into this\nmiserable circumstance by His direction, He having the sole power, not\nof me only, but of everything that happened in the world. Immediately\nit followed: Why has God done this to me? What have I done to be thus\nused? My conscience presently checked me in that inquiry, as if I had\nblasphemed, and methought it spoke to me like a voice: \u201cWretch! dost\n_thou_ ask what thou hast done? Look back upon a dreadful misspent\nlife, and ask thyself what thou hast _not_ done? Ask, why is it that\nthou wert not long ago destroyed? Why wert thou not drowned in Yarmouth\nRoads; killed in the fight when the ship was taken by the Sallee\nman-of-war; devoured by the wild beasts on the coast of Africa; or\ndrowned _here_, when all the crew perished but thyself? Dost _thou_\nask, what have I done?\u201d I was struck dumb with these reflections, as\none astonished, and had not a word to say\u2014no, not to answer to myself,\nbut rose up pensive and sad, walked back to my retreat, and went up\nover my wall, as if I had been going to bed; but my thoughts were sadly\ndisturbed, and I had no inclination to sleep; so I sat down in my\nchair, and lighted my lamp, for it began to be dark. Now, as the\napprehension of the return of my distemper terrified me very much, it\noccurred to my thought that the Brazilians take no physic but their\ntobacco for almost all distempers, and I had a piece of a roll of\ntobacco in one of the chests, which was quite cured, and some also that\nwas green, and not quite cured.\nI went, directed by Heaven no doubt; for in this chest I found a cure\nboth for soul and body. I opened the chest, and found what I looked\nfor, the tobacco; and as the few books I had saved lay there too, I\ntook out one of the Bibles which I mentioned before, and which to this\ntime I had not found leisure or inclination to look into. I say, I took\nit out, and brought both that and the tobacco with me to the table.\nWhat use to make of the tobacco I knew not, in my distemper, or whether\nit was good for it or no: but I tried several experiments with it, as\nif I was resolved it should hit one way or other. I first took a piece\nof leaf, and chewed it in my mouth, which, indeed, at first almost\nstupefied my brain, the tobacco being green and strong, and that I had\nnot been much used to. Then I took some and steeped it an hour or two\nin some rum, and resolved to take a dose of it when I lay down; and\nlastly, I burnt some upon a pan of coals, and held my nose close over\nthe smoke of it as long as I could bear it, as well for the heat as\nalmost for suffocation. In the interval of this operation I took up the\nBible and began to read; but my head was too much disturbed with the\ntobacco to bear reading, at least at that time; only, having opened the\nbook casually, the first words that occurred to me were these, \u201cCall on\nMe in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt\nglorify Me.\u201d These words were very apt to my case, and made some\nimpression upon my thoughts at the time of reading them, though not so\nmuch as they did afterwards; for, as for being _delivered_, the word\nhad no sound, as I may say, to me; the thing was so remote, so\nimpossible in my apprehension of things, that I began to say, as the\nchildren of Israel did when they were promised flesh to eat, \u201cCan God\nspread a table in the wilderness?\u201d so I began to say, \u201cCan God Himself\ndeliver me from this place?\u201d And as it was not for many years that any\nhopes appeared, this prevailed very often upon my thoughts; but,\nhowever, the words made a great impression upon me, and I mused upon\nthem very often. It grew now late, and the tobacco had, as I said,\ndozed my head so much that I inclined to sleep; so I left my lamp\nburning in the cave, lest I should want anything in the night, and went\nto bed. But before I lay down, I did what I never had done in all my\nlife\u2014I kneeled down, and prayed to God to fulfil the promise to me,\nthat if I called upon Him in the day of trouble, He would deliver me.\nAfter my broken and imperfect prayer was over, I drank the rum in which\nI had steeped the tobacco, which was so strong and rank of the tobacco\nthat I could scarcely get it down; immediately upon this I went to bed.\nI found presently it flew up into my head violently; but I fell into a\nsound sleep, and waked no more till, by the sun, it must necessarily be\nnear three o\u2019clock in the afternoon the next day\u2014nay, to this hour I am\npartly of opinion that I slept all the next day and night, and till\nalmost three the day after; for otherwise I know not how I should lose\na day out of my reckoning in the days of the week, as it appeared some\nyears after I had done; for if I had lost it by crossing and recrossing\nthe line, I should have lost more than one day; but certainly I lost a\nday in my account, and never knew which way. Be that, however, one way\nor the other, when I awaked I found myself exceedingly refreshed, and\nmy spirits lively and cheerful; when I got up I was stronger than I was\nthe day before, and my stomach better, for I was hungry; and, in short,\nI had no fit the next day, but continued much altered for the better.\nThis was the 29th.\nThe 30th was my well day, of course, and I went abroad with my gun, but\ndid not care to travel too far. I killed a sea-fowl or two, something\nlike a brandgoose, and brought them home, but was not very forward to\neat them; so I ate some more of the turtle\u2019s eggs, which were very\ngood. This evening I renewed the medicine, which I had supposed did me\ngood the day before\u2014the tobacco steeped in rum; only I did not take so\nmuch as before, nor did I chew any of the leaf, or hold my head over\nthe smoke; however, I was not so well the next day, which was the first\nof July, as I hoped I should have been; for I had a little spice of the\ncold fit, but it was not much.\n_July_ 2.\u2014I renewed the medicine all the three ways; and dosed myself\nwith it as at first, and doubled the quantity which I drank.\n_July_ 3.\u2014I missed the fit for good and all, though I did not recover\nmy full strength for some weeks after. While I was thus gathering\nstrength, my thoughts ran exceedingly upon this Scripture, \u201cI will\ndeliver thee\u201d; and the impossibility of my deliverance lay much upon my\nmind, in bar of my ever expecting it; but as I was discouraging myself\nwith such thoughts, it occurred to my mind that I pored so much upon my\ndeliverance from the main affliction, that I disregarded the\ndeliverance I had received, and I was as it were made to ask myself\nsuch questions as these\u2014viz. Have I not been delivered, and wonderfully\ntoo, from sickness\u2014from the most distressed condition that could be,\nand that was so frightful to me? and what notice had I taken of it? Had\nI done my part? God had delivered me, but I had not glorified Him\u2014that\nis to say, I had not owned and been thankful for that as a deliverance;\nand how could I expect greater deliverance? This touched my heart very\nmuch; and immediately I knelt down and gave God thanks aloud for my\nrecovery from my sickness.\n_July_ 4.\u2014In the morning I took the Bible; and beginning at the New\nTestament, I began seriously to read it, and imposed upon myself to\nread a while every morning and every night; not tying myself to the\nnumber of chapters, but long as my thoughts should engage me. It was\nnot long after I set seriously to this work till I found my heart more\ndeeply and sincerely affected with the wickedness of my past life. The\nimpression of my dream revived; and the words, \u201cAll these things have\nnot brought thee to repentance,\u201d ran seriously through my thoughts. I\nwas earnestly begging of God to give me repentance, when it happened\nprovidentially, the very day, that, reading the Scripture, I came to\nthese words: \u201cHe is exalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance\nand to give remission.\u201d I threw down the book; and with my heart as\nwell as my hands lifted up to heaven, in a kind of ecstasy of joy, I\ncried out aloud, \u201cJesus, thou son of David! Jesus, thou exalted Prince\nand Saviour! give me repentance!\u201d This was the first time I could say,\nin the true sense of the words, that I prayed in all my life; for now I\nprayed with a sense of my condition, and a true Scripture view of hope,\nfounded on the encouragement of the Word of God; and from this time, I\nmay say, I began to hope that God would hear me.\nNow I began to construe the words mentioned above, \u201cCall on Me, and I\nwill deliver thee,\u201d in a different sense from what I had ever done\nbefore; for then I had no notion of anything being called\n_deliverance_, but my being delivered from the captivity I was in; for\nthough I was indeed at large in the place, yet the island was certainly\na prison to me, and that in the worse sense in the world. But now I\nlearned to take it in another sense: now I looked back upon my past\nlife with such horror, and my sins appeared so dreadful, that my soul\nsought nothing of God but deliverance from the load of guilt that bore\ndown all my comfort. As for my solitary life, it was nothing. I did not\nso much as pray to be delivered from it or think of it; it was all of\nno consideration in comparison to this. And I add this part here, to\nhint to whoever shall read it, that whenever they come to a true sense\nof things, they will find deliverance from sin a much greater blessing\nthan deliverance from affliction.\nBut, leaving this part, I return to my Journal.\nMy condition began now to be, though not less miserable as to my way of\nliving, yet much easier to my mind: and my thoughts being directed, by\na constant reading the Scripture and praying to God, to things of a\nhigher nature, I had a great deal of comfort within, which till now I\nknew nothing of; also, my health and strength returned, I bestirred\nmyself to furnish myself with everything that I wanted, and make my way\nof living as regular as I could.\nFrom the 4th of July to the 14th I was chiefly employed in walking\nabout with my gun in my hand, a little and a little at a time, as a man\nthat was gathering up his strength after a fit of sickness; for it is\nhardly to be imagined how low I was, and to what weakness I was\nreduced. The application which I made use of was perfectly new, and\nperhaps which had never cured an ague before; neither can I recommend\nit to any to practise, by this experiment: and though it did carry off\nthe fit, yet it rather contributed to weakening me; for I had frequent\nconvulsions in my nerves and limbs for some time. I learned from it\nalso this, in particular, that being abroad in the rainy season was the\nmost pernicious thing to my health that could be, especially in those\nrains which came attended with storms and hurricanes of wind; for as\nthe rain which came in the dry season was almost always accompanied\nwith such storms, so I found that rain was much more dangerous than the\nrain which fell in September and October.\nCHAPTER VII. AGRICULTURAL EXPERIENCE\nI had now been in this unhappy island above ten months. All possibility\nof deliverance from this condition seemed to be entirely taken from me;\nand I firmly believe that no human shape had ever set foot upon that\nplace. Having now secured my habitation, as I thought, fully to my\nmind, I had a great desire to make a more perfect discovery of the\nisland, and to see what other productions I might find, which I yet\nknew nothing of.\nIt was on the 15th of July that I began to take a more particular\nsurvey of the island itself. I went up the creek first, where, as I\nhinted, I brought my rafts on shore. I found after I came about two\nmiles up, that the tide did not flow any higher, and that it was no\nmore than a little brook of running water, very fresh and good; but\nthis being the dry season, there was hardly any water in some parts of\nit\u2014at least not enough to run in any stream, so as it could be\nperceived. On the banks of this brook I found many pleasant savannahs\nor meadows, plain, smooth, and covered with grass; and on the rising\nparts of them, next to the higher grounds, where the water, as might be\nsupposed, never overflowed, I found a great deal of tobacco, green, and\ngrowing to a great and very strong stalk. There were divers other\nplants, which I had no notion of or understanding about, that might,\nperhaps, have virtues of their own, which I could not find out. I\nsearched for the cassava root, which the Indians, in all that climate,\nmake their bread of, but I could find none. I saw large plants of\naloes, but did not understand them. I saw several sugar-canes, but\nwild, and, for want of cultivation, imperfect. I contented myself with\nthese discoveries for this time, and came back, musing with myself what\ncourse I might take to know the virtue and goodness of any of the\nfruits or plants which I should discover, but could bring it to no\nconclusion; for, in short, I had made so little observation while I was\nin the Brazils, that I knew little of the plants in the field; at\nleast, very little that might serve to any purpose now in my distress.\nThe next day, the sixteenth, I went up the same way again; and after\ngoing something further than I had gone the day before, I found the\nbrook and the savannahs cease, and the country become more woody than\nbefore. In this part I found different fruits, and particularly I found\nmelons upon the ground, in great abundance, and grapes upon the trees.\nThe vines had spread, indeed, over the trees, and the clusters of\ngrapes were just now in their prime, very ripe and rich. This was a\nsurprising discovery, and I was exceeding glad of them; but I was\nwarned by my experience to eat sparingly of them; remembering that when\nI was ashore in Barbary, the eating of grapes killed several of our\nEnglishmen, who were slaves there, by throwing them into fluxes and\nfevers. But I found an excellent use for these grapes; and that was, to\ncure or dry them in the sun, and keep them as dried grapes or raisins\nare kept, which I thought would be, as indeed they were, wholesome and\nagreeable to eat when no grapes could be had.\nI spent all that evening there, and went not back to my habitation;\nwhich, by the way, was the first night, as I might say, I had lain from\nhome. In the night, I took my first contrivance, and got up in a tree,\nwhere I slept well; and the next morning proceeded upon my discovery;\ntravelling nearly four miles, as I might judge by the length of the\nvalley, keeping still due north, with a ridge of hills on the south and\nnorth side of me. At the end of this march I came to an opening where\nthe country seemed to descend to the west; and a little spring of fresh\nwater, which issued out of the side of the hill by me, ran the other\nway, that is, due east; and the country appeared so fresh, so green, so\nflourishing, everything being in a constant verdure or flourish of\nspring that it looked like a planted garden. I descended a little on\nthe side of that delicious vale, surveying it with a secret kind of\npleasure, though mixed with my other afflicting thoughts, to think that\nthis was all my own; that I was king and lord of all this country\nindefensibly, and had a right of possession; and if I could convey it,\nI might have it in inheritance as completely as any lord of a manor in\nEngland. I saw here abundance of cocoa trees, orange, and lemon, and\ncitron trees; but all wild, and very few bearing any fruit, at least\nnot then. However, the green limes that I gathered were not only\npleasant to eat, but very wholesome; and I mixed their juice afterwards\nwith water, which made it very wholesome, and very cool and refreshing.\nI found now I had business enough to gather and carry home; and I\nresolved to lay up a store as well of grapes as limes and lemons, to\nfurnish myself for the wet season, which I knew was approaching. In\norder to do this, I gathered a great heap of grapes in one place, a\nlesser heap in another place, and a great parcel of limes and lemons in\nanother place; and taking a few of each with me, I travelled homewards;\nresolving to come again, and bring a bag or sack, or what I could make,\nto carry the rest home. Accordingly, having spent three days in this\njourney, I came home (so I must now call my tent and my cave); but\nbefore I got thither the grapes were spoiled; the richness of the fruit\nand the weight of the juice having broken them and bruised them, they\nwere good for little or nothing; as to the limes, they were good, but I\ncould bring but a few.\nThe next day, being the nineteenth, I went back, having made me two\nsmall bags to bring home my harvest; but I was surprised, when coming\nto my heap of grapes, which were so rich and fine when I gathered them,\nto find them all spread about, trod to pieces, and dragged about, some\nhere, some there, and abundance eaten and devoured. By this I concluded\nthere were some wild creatures thereabouts, which had done this; but\nwhat they were I knew not. However, as I found there was no laying them\nup on heaps, and no carrying them away in a sack, but that one way they\nwould be destroyed, and the other way they would be crushed with their\nown weight, I took another course; for I gathered a large quantity of\nthe grapes, and hung upon the out-branches of the trees, that they\nmight cure and dry in the sun; and as for the limes and lemons, I\ncarried as many back as I could well stand under.\nWhen I came home from this journey, I contemplated with great pleasure\nthe fruitfulness of that valley, and the pleasantness of the situation;\nthe security from storms on that side of the water, and the wood: and\nconcluded that I had pitched upon a place to fix my abode which was by\nfar the worst part of the country. Upon the whole, I began to consider\nof removing my habitation, and looking out for a place equally safe as\nwhere now I was situate, if possible, in that pleasant, fruitful part\nof the island.\nThis thought ran long in my head, and I was exceeding fond of it for\nsome time, the pleasantness of the place tempting me; but when I came\nto a nearer view of it, I considered that I was now by the seaside,\nwhere it was at least possible that something might happen to my\nadvantage, and, by the same ill fate that brought me hither might bring\nsome other unhappy wretches to the same place; and though it was scarce\nprobable that any such thing should ever happen, yet to enclose myself\namong the hills and woods in the centre of the island was to anticipate\nmy bondage, and to render such an affair not only improbable, but\nimpossible; and that therefore I ought not by any means to remove.\nHowever, I was so enamoured of this place, that I spent much of my time\nthere for the whole of the remaining part of the month of July; and\nthough upon second thoughts, I resolved not to remove, yet I built me a\nlittle kind of a bower, and surrounded it at a distance with a strong\nfence, being a double hedge, as high as I could reach, well staked and\nfilled between with brushwood; and here I lay very secure, sometimes\ntwo or three nights together; always going over it with a ladder; so\nthat I fancied now I had my country house and my sea-coast house; and\nthis work took me up to the beginning of August.\nI had but newly finished my fence, and began to enjoy my labour, when\nthe rains came on, and made me stick close to my first habitation; for\nthough I had made me a tent like the other, with a piece of a sail, and\nspread it very well, yet I had not the shelter of a hill to keep me\nfrom storms, nor a cave behind me to retreat into when the rains were\nextraordinary.\nAbout the beginning of August, as I said, I had finished my bower, and\nbegan to enjoy myself. The 3rd of August, I found the grapes I had hung\nup perfectly dried, and, indeed, were excellent good raisins of the\nsun; so I began to take them down from the trees, and it was very happy\nthat I did so, for the rains which followed would have spoiled them,\nand I had lost the best part of my winter food; for I had above two\nhundred large bunches of them. No sooner had I taken them all down, and\ncarried the most of them home to my cave, than it began to rain; and\nfrom hence, which was the 14th of August, it rained, more or less,\nevery day till the middle of October; and sometimes so violently, that\nI could not stir out of my cave for several days.\nIn this season I was much surprised with the increase of my family; I\nhad been concerned for the loss of one of my cats, who ran away from\nme, or, as I thought, had been dead, and I heard no more tidings of her\ntill, to my astonishment, she came home about the end of August with\nthree kittens. This was the more strange to me because, though I had\nkilled a wild cat, as I called it, with my gun, yet I thought it was\nquite a different kind from our European cats; but the young cats were\nthe same kind of house-breed as the old one; and both my cats being\nfemales, I thought it very strange. But from these three cats I\nafterwards came to be so pestered with cats that I was forced to kill\nthem like vermin or wild beasts, and to drive them from my house as\nmuch as possible.\nFrom the 14th of August to the 26th, incessant rain, so that I could\nnot stir, and was now very careful not to be much wet. In this\nconfinement, I began to be straitened for food: but venturing out\ntwice, I one day killed a goat; and the last day, which was the 26th,\nfound a very large tortoise, which was a treat to me, and my food was\nregulated thus: I ate a bunch of raisins for my breakfast; a piece of\nthe goat\u2019s flesh, or of the turtle, for my dinner, broiled\u2014for, to my\ngreat misfortune, I had no vessel to boil or stew anything; and two or\nthree of the turtle\u2019s eggs for my supper.\nDuring this confinement in my cover by the rain, I worked daily two or\nthree hours at enlarging my cave, and by degrees worked it on towards\none side, till I came to the outside of the hill, and made a door or\nway out, which came beyond my fence or wall; and so I came in and out\nthis way. But I was not perfectly easy at lying so open; for, as I had\nmanaged myself before, I was in a perfect enclosure; whereas now I\nthought I lay exposed, and open for anything to come in upon me; and\nyet I could not perceive that there was any living thing to fear, the\nbiggest creature that I had yet seen upon the island being a goat.\n_Sept._ 30.\u2014I was now come to the unhappy anniversary of my landing. I\ncast up the notches on my post, and found I had been on shore three\nhundred and sixty-five days. I kept this day as a solemn fast, setting\nit apart for religious exercise, prostrating myself on the ground with\nthe most serious humiliation, confessing my sins to God, acknowledging\nHis righteous judgments upon me, and praying to Him to have mercy on me\nthrough Jesus Christ; and not having tasted the least refreshment for\ntwelve hours, even till the going down of the sun, I then ate a\nbiscuit-cake and a bunch of grapes, and went to bed, finishing the day\nas I began it. I had all this time observed no Sabbath day; for as at\nfirst I had no sense of religion upon my mind, I had, after some time,\nomitted to distinguish the weeks, by making a longer notch than\nordinary for the Sabbath day, and so did not really know what any of\nthe days were; but now, having cast up the days as above, I found I had\nbeen there a year; so I divided it into weeks, and set apart every\nseventh day for a Sabbath; though I found at the end of my account I\nhad lost a day or two in my reckoning. A little after this, my ink\nbegan to fail me, and so I contented myself to use it more sparingly,\nand to write down only the most remarkable events of my life, without\ncontinuing a daily memorandum of other things.\nThe rainy season and the dry season began now to appear regular to me,\nand I learned to divide them so as to provide for them accordingly; but\nI bought all my experience before I had it, and this I am going to\nrelate was one of the most discouraging experiments that I made.\nI have mentioned that I had saved the few ears of barley and rice,\nwhich I had so surprisingly found spring up, as I thought, of\nthemselves, and I believe there were about thirty stalks of rice, and\nabout twenty of barley; and now I thought it a proper time to sow it,\nafter the rains, the sun being in its southern position, going from me.\nAccordingly, I dug up a piece of ground as well as I could with my\nwooden spade, and dividing it into two parts, I sowed my grain; but as\nI was sowing, it casually occurred to my thoughts that I would not sow\nit all at first, because I did not know when was the proper time for\nit, so I sowed about two-thirds of the seed, leaving about a handful of\neach. It was a great comfort to me afterwards that I did so, for not\none grain of what I sowed this time came to anything: for the dry\nmonths following, the earth having had no rain after the seed was sown,\nit had no moisture to assist its growth, and never came up at all till\nthe wet season had come again, and then it grew as if it had been but\nnewly sown. Finding my first seed did not grow, which I easily imagined\nwas by the drought, I sought for a moister piece of ground to make\nanother trial in, and I dug up a piece of ground near my new bower, and\nsowed the rest of my seed in February, a little before the vernal\nequinox; and this having the rainy months of March and April to water\nit, sprung up very pleasantly, and yielded a very good crop; but having\npart of the seed left only, and not daring to sow all that I had, I had\nbut a small quantity at last, my whole crop not amounting to above half\na peck of each kind. But by this experiment I was made master of my\nbusiness, and knew exactly when the proper season was to sow, and that\nI might expect two seed-times and two harvests every year.\nWhile this corn was growing I made a little discovery, which was of use\nto me afterwards. As soon as the rains were over, and the weather began\nto settle, which was about the month of November, I made a visit up the\ncountry to my bower, where, though I had not been some months, yet I\nfound all things just as I left them. The circle or double hedge that I\nhad made was not only firm and entire, but the stakes which I had cut\nout of some trees that grew thereabouts were all shot out and grown\nwith long branches, as much as a willow-tree usually shoots the first\nyear after lopping its head. I could not tell what tree to call it that\nthese stakes were cut from. I was surprised, and yet very well pleased,\nto see the young trees grow; and I pruned them, and led them up to grow\nas much alike as I could; and it is scarce credible how beautiful a\nfigure they grew into in three years; so that though the hedge made a\ncircle of about twenty-five yards in diameter, yet the trees, for such\nI might now call them, soon covered it, and it was a complete shade,\nsufficient to lodge under all the dry season. This made me resolve to\ncut some more stakes, and make me a hedge like this, in a semi-circle\nround my wall (I mean that of my first dwelling), which I did; and\nplacing the trees or stakes in a double row, at about eight yards\ndistance from my first fence, they grew presently, and were at first a\nfine cover to my habitation, and afterwards served for a defence also,\nas I shall observe in its order.\nI found now that the seasons of the year might generally be divided,\nnot into summer and winter, as in Europe, but into the rainy seasons\nand the dry seasons, which were generally thus:\u2014The half of February,\nthe whole of March, and the half of April\u2014rainy, the sun being then on\nor near the equinox.\nThe half of April, the whole of May, June, and July, and the half of\nAugust\u2014dry, the sun being then to the north of the line.\nThe half of August, the whole of September, and the half of\nOctober\u2014rainy, the sun being then come back.\nThe half of October, the whole of November, December, and January, and\nthe half of February\u2014dry, the sun being then to the south of the line.\nThe rainy seasons sometimes held longer or shorter as the winds\nhappened to blow, but this was the general observation I made. After I\nhad found by experience the ill consequences of being abroad in the\nrain, I took care to furnish myself with provisions beforehand, that I\nmight not be obliged to go out, and I sat within doors as much as\npossible during the wet months. This time I found much employment, and\nvery suitable also to the time, for I found great occasion for many\nthings which I had no way to furnish myself with but by hard labour and\nconstant application; particularly I tried many ways to make myself a\nbasket, but all the twigs I could get for the purpose proved so brittle\nthat they would do nothing. It proved of excellent advantage to me now,\nthat when I was a boy, I used to take great delight in standing at a\nbasket-maker\u2019s, in the town where my father lived, to see them make\ntheir wicker-ware; and being, as boys usually are, very officious to\nhelp, and a great observer of the manner in which they worked those\nthings, and sometimes lending a hand, I had by these means full\nknowledge of the methods of it, and I wanted nothing but the materials,\nwhen it came into my mind that the twigs of that tree from whence I cut\nmy stakes that grew might possibly be as tough as the sallows, willows,\nand osiers in England, and I resolved to try. Accordingly, the next day\nI went to my country house, as I called it, and cutting some of the\nsmaller twigs, I found them to my purpose as much as I could desire;\nwhereupon I came the next time prepared with a hatchet to cut down a\nquantity, which I soon found, for there was great plenty of them. These\nI set up to dry within my circle or hedge, and when they were fit for\nuse I carried them to my cave; and here, during the next season, I\nemployed myself in making, as well as I could, a great many baskets,\nboth to carry earth or to carry or lay up anything, as I had occasion;\nand though I did not finish them very handsomely, yet I made them\nsufficiently serviceable for my purpose; thus, afterwards, I took care\nnever to be without them; and as my wicker-ware decayed, I made more,\nespecially strong, deep baskets to place my corn in, instead of sacks,\nwhen I should come to have any quantity of it.\nHaving mastered this difficulty, and employed a world of time about it,\nI bestirred myself to see, if possible, how to supply two wants. I had\nno vessels to hold anything that was liquid, except two runlets, which\nwere almost full of rum, and some glass bottles\u2014some of the common\nsize, and others which were case bottles, square, for the holding of\nwater, spirits, &c. I had not so much as a pot to boil anything, except\na great kettle, which I saved out of the ship, and which was too big\nfor such as I desired it\u2014viz. to make broth, and stew a bit of meat by\nitself. The second thing I fain would have had was a tobacco-pipe, but\nit was impossible to me to make one; however, I found a contrivance for\nthat, too, at last. I employed myself in planting my second rows of\nstakes or piles, and in this wicker-working all the summer or dry\nseason, when another business took me up more time than it could be\nimagined I could spare.\nCHAPTER VIII. SURVEYS HIS POSITION\nI mentioned before that I had a great mind to see the whole island, and\nthat I had travelled up the brook, and so on to where I built my bower,\nand where I had an opening quite to the sea, on the other side of the\nisland. I now resolved to travel quite across to the sea-shore on that\nside; so, taking my gun, a hatchet, and my dog, and a larger quantity\nof powder and shot than usual, with two biscuit-cakes and a great bunch\nof raisins in my pouch for my store, I began my journey. When I had\npassed the vale where my bower stood, as above, I came within view of\nthe sea to the west, and it being a very clear day, I fairly descried\nland\u2014whether an island or a continent I could not tell; but it lay very\nhigh, extending from the W. to the W.S.W. at a very great distance; by\nmy guess it could not be less than fifteen or twenty leagues off.\nI could not tell what part of the world this might be, otherwise than\nthat I knew it must be part of America, and, as I concluded by all my\nobservations, must be near the Spanish dominions, and perhaps was all\ninhabited by savages, where, if I had landed, I had been in a worse\ncondition than I was now; and therefore I acquiesced in the\ndispositions of Providence, which I began now to own and to believe\nordered everything for the best; I say I quieted my mind with this, and\nleft off afflicting myself with fruitless wishes of being there.\nBesides, after some thought upon this affair, I considered that if this\nland was the Spanish coast, I should certainly, one time or other, see\nsome vessel pass or repass one way or other; but if not, then it was\nthe savage coast between the Spanish country and Brazils, where are\nfound the worst of savages; for they are cannibals or men-eaters, and\nfail not to murder and devour all the human bodies that fall into their\nhands.\nWith these considerations, I walked very leisurely forward. I found\nthat side of the island where I now was much pleasanter than mine\u2014the\nopen or savannah fields sweet, adorned with flowers and grass, and full\nof very fine woods. I saw abundance of parrots, and fain I would have\ncaught one, if possible, to have kept it to be tame, and taught it to\nspeak to me. I did, after some painstaking, catch a young parrot, for I\nknocked it down with a stick, and having recovered it, I brought it\nhome; but it was some years before I could make him speak; however, at\nlast I taught him to call me by name very familiarly. But the accident\nthat followed, though it be a trifle, will be very diverting in its\nplace.\nI was exceedingly diverted with this journey. I found in the low\ngrounds hares (as I thought them to be) and foxes; but they differed\ngreatly from all the other kinds I had met with, nor could I satisfy\nmyself to eat them, though I killed several. But I had no need to be\nventurous, for I had no want of food, and of that which was very good\ntoo, especially these three sorts, viz. goats, pigeons, and turtle, or\ntortoise, which added to my grapes, Leadenhall market could not have\nfurnished a table better than I, in proportion to the company; and\nthough my case was deplorable enough, yet I had great cause for\nthankfulness that I was not driven to any extremities for food, but had\nrather plenty, even to dainties.\nI never travelled in this journey above two miles outright in a day, or\nthereabouts; but I took so many turns and re-turns to see what\ndiscoveries I could make, that I came weary enough to the place where I\nresolved to sit down all night; and then I either reposed myself in a\ntree, or surrounded myself with a row of stakes set upright in the\nground, either from one tree to another, or so as no wild creature\ncould come at me without waking me.\nAs soon as I came to the sea-shore, I was surprised to see that I had\ntaken up my lot on the worst side of the island, for here, indeed, the\nshore was covered with innumerable turtles, whereas on the other side I\nhad found but three in a year and a half. Here was also an infinite\nnumber of fowls of many kinds, some which I had seen, and some which I\nhad not seen before, and many of them very good meat, but such as I\nknew not the names of, except those called penguins.\nI could have shot as many as I pleased, but was very sparing of my\npowder and shot, and therefore had more mind to kill a she-goat if I\ncould, which I could better feed on; and though there were many goats\nhere, more than on my side the island, yet it was with much more\ndifficulty that I could come near them, the country being flat and\neven, and they saw me much sooner than when I was on the hills.\nI confess this side of the country was much pleasanter than mine; but\nyet I had not the least inclination to remove, for as I was fixed in my\nhabitation it became natural to me, and I seemed all the while I was\nhere to be as it were upon a journey, and from home. However, I\ntravelled along the shore of the sea towards the east, I suppose about\ntwelve miles, and then setting up a great pole upon the shore for a\nmark, I concluded I would go home again, and that the next journey I\ntook should be on the other side of the island east from my dwelling,\nand so round till I came to my post again.\nI took another way to come back than that I went, thinking I could\neasily keep all the island so much in my view that I could not miss\nfinding my first dwelling by viewing the country; but I found myself\nmistaken, for being come about two or three miles, I found myself\ndescended into a very large valley, but so surrounded with hills, and\nthose hills covered with wood, that I could not see which was my way by\nany direction but that of the sun, nor even then, unless I knew very\nwell the position of the sun at that time of the day. It happened, to\nmy further misfortune, that the weather proved hazy for three or four\ndays while I was in the valley, and not being able to see the sun, I\nwandered about very uncomfortably, and at last was obliged to find the\nseaside, look for my post, and come back the same way I went: and then,\nby easy journeys, I turned homeward, the weather being exceeding hot,\nand my gun, ammunition, hatchet, and other things very heavy.\nIn this journey my dog surprised a young kid, and seized upon it; and\nI, running in to take hold of it, caught it, and saved it alive from\nthe dog. I had a great mind to bring it home if I could, for I had\noften been musing whether it might not be possible to get a kid or two,\nand so raise a breed of tame goats, which might supply me when my\npowder and shot should be all spent. I made a collar for this little\ncreature, and with a string, which I made of some rope-yarn, which I\nalways carried about me, I led him along, though with some difficulty,\ntill I came to my bower, and there I enclosed him and left him, for I\nwas very impatient to be at home, from whence I had been absent above a\nmonth.\nI cannot express what a satisfaction it was to me to come into my old\nhutch, and lie down in my hammock-bed. This little wandering journey,\nwithout settled place of abode, had been so unpleasant to me, that my\nown house, as I called it to myself, was a perfect settlement to me\ncompared to that; and it rendered everything about me so comfortable,\nthat I resolved I would never go a great way from it again while it\nshould be my lot to stay on the island.\nI reposed myself here a week, to rest and regale myself after my long\njourney; during which most of the time was taken up in the weighty\naffair of making a cage for my Poll, who began now to be a mere\ndomestic, and to be well acquainted with me. Then I began to think of\nthe poor kid which I had penned in within my little circle, and\nresolved to go and fetch it home, or give it some food; accordingly I\nwent, and found it where I left it, for indeed it could not get out,\nbut was almost starved for want of food. I went and cut boughs of\ntrees, and branches of such shrubs as I could find, and threw it over,\nand having fed it, I tied it as I did before, to lead it away; but it\nwas so tame with being hungry, that I had no need to have tied it, for\nit followed me like a dog: and as I continually fed it, the creature\nbecame so loving, so gentle, and so fond, that it became from that time\none of my domestics also, and would never leave me afterwards.\nThe rainy season of the autumnal equinox was now come, and I kept the\n30th of September in the same solemn manner as before, being the\nanniversary of my landing on the island, having now been there two\nyears, and no more prospect of being delivered than the first day I\ncame there, I spent the whole day in humble and thankful\nacknowledgments of the many wonderful mercies which my solitary\ncondition was attended with, and without which it might have been\ninfinitely more miserable. I gave humble and hearty thanks that God had\nbeen pleased to discover to me that it was possible I might be more\nhappy in this solitary condition than I should have been in the liberty\nof society, and in all the pleasures of the world; that He could fully\nmake up to me the deficiencies of my solitary state, and the want of\nhuman society, by His presence and the communications of His grace to\nmy soul; supporting, comforting, and encouraging me to depend upon His\nprovidence here, and hope for His eternal presence hereafter.\nIt was now that I began sensibly to feel how much more happy this life\nI now led was, with all its miserable circumstances, than the wicked,\ncursed, abominable life I led all the past part of my days; and now I\nchanged both my sorrows and my joys; my very desires altered, my\naffections changed their gusts, and my delights were perfectly new from\nwhat they were at my first coming, or, indeed, for the two years past.\nBefore, as I walked about, either on my hunting or for viewing the\ncountry, the anguish of my soul at my condition would break out upon me\non a sudden, and my very heart would die within me, to think of the\nwoods, the mountains, the deserts I was in, and how I was a prisoner,\nlocked up with the eternal bars and bolts of the ocean, in an\nuninhabited wilderness, without redemption. In the midst of the\ngreatest composure of my mind, this would break out upon me like a\nstorm, and make me wring my hands and weep like a child. Sometimes it\nwould take me in the middle of my work, and I would immediately sit\ndown and sigh, and look upon the ground for an hour or two together;\nand this was still worse to me, for if I could burst out into tears, or\nvent myself by words, it would go off, and the grief, having exhausted\nitself, would abate.\nBut now I began to exercise myself with new thoughts: I daily read the\nword of God, and applied all the comforts of it to my present state.\nOne morning, being very sad, I opened the Bible upon these words, \u201cI\nwill never, never leave thee, nor forsake thee.\u201d Immediately it\noccurred that these words were to me; why else should they be directed\nin such a manner, just at the moment when I was mourning over my\ncondition, as one forsaken of God and man? \u201cWell, then,\u201d said I, \u201cif\nGod does not forsake me, of what ill consequence can it be, or what\nmatters it, though the world should all forsake me, seeing on the other\nhand, if I had all the world, and should lose the favour and blessing\nof God, there would be no comparison in the loss?\u201d\nFrom this moment I began to conclude in my mind that it was possible\nfor me to be more happy in this forsaken, solitary condition than it\nwas probable I should ever have been in any other particular state in\nthe world; and with this thought I was going to give thanks to God for\nbringing me to this place. I know not what it was, but something\nshocked my mind at that thought, and I durst not speak the words. \u201cHow\ncanst thou become such a hypocrite,\u201d said I, even audibly, \u201cto pretend\nto be thankful for a condition which, however thou mayest endeavour to\nbe contented with, thou wouldst rather pray heartily to be delivered\nfrom?\u201d So I stopped there; but though I could not say I thanked God for\nbeing there, yet I sincerely gave thanks to God for opening my eyes, by\nwhatever afflicting providences, to see the former condition of my\nlife, and to mourn for my wickedness, and repent. I never opened the\nBible, or shut it, but my very soul within me blessed God for directing\nmy friend in England, without any order of mine, to pack it up among my\ngoods, and for assisting me afterwards to save it out of the wreck of\nthe ship.\nThus, and in this disposition of mind, I began my third year; and\nthough I have not given the reader the trouble of so particular an\naccount of my works this year as the first, yet in general it may be\nobserved that I was very seldom idle, but having regularly divided my\ntime according to the several daily employments that were before me,\nsuch as: first, my duty to God, and the reading the Scriptures, which I\nconstantly set apart some time for thrice every day; secondly, the\ngoing abroad with my gun for food, which generally took me up three\nhours in every morning, when it did not rain; thirdly, the ordering,\ncutting, preserving, and cooking what I had killed or caught for my\nsupply; these took up great part of the day. Also, it is to be\nconsidered, that in the middle of the day, when the sun was in the\nzenith, the violence of the heat was too great to stir out; so that\nabout four hours in the evening was all the time I could be supposed to\nwork in, with this exception, that sometimes I changed my hours of\nhunting and working, and went to work in the morning, and abroad with\nmy gun in the afternoon.\nTo this short time allowed for labour I desire may be added the\nexceeding laboriousness of my work; the many hours which, for want of\ntools, want of help, and want of skill, everything I did took up out of\nmy time. For example, I was full two and forty days in making a board\nfor a long shelf, which I wanted in my cave; whereas, two sawyers, with\ntheir tools and a saw-pit, would have cut six of them out of the same\ntree in half a day.\nMy case was this: it was to be a large tree which was to be cut down,\nbecause my board was to be a broad one. This tree I was three days in\ncutting down, and two more cutting off the boughs, and reducing it to a\nlog or piece of timber. With inexpressible hacking and hewing I reduced\nboth the sides of it into chips till it began to be light enough to\nmove; then I turned it, and made one side of it smooth and flat as a\nboard from end to end; then, turning that side downward, cut the other\nside til I brought the plank to be about three inches thick, and smooth\non both sides. Any one may judge the labour of my hands in such a piece\nof work; but labour and patience carried me through that, and many\nother things. I only observe this in particular, to show the reason why\nso much of my time went away with so little work\u2014viz. that what might\nbe a little to be done with help and tools, was a vast labour and\nrequired a prodigious time to do alone, and by hand. But\nnotwithstanding this, with patience and labour I got through everything\nthat my circumstances made necessary to me to do, as will appear by\nwhat follows.\nI was now, in the months of November and December, expecting my crop of\nbarley and rice. The ground I had manured and dug up for them was not\ngreat; for, as I observed, my seed of each was not above the quantity\nof half a peck, for I had lost one whole crop by sowing in the dry\nseason. But now my crop promised very well, when on a sudden I found I\nwas in danger of losing it all again by enemies of several sorts, which\nit was scarcely possible to keep from it; as, first, the goats, and\nwild creatures which I called hares, who, tasting the sweetness of the\nblade, lay in it night and day, as soon as it came up, and eat it so\nclose, that it could get no time to shoot up into stalk.\nThis I saw no remedy for but by making an enclosure about it with a\nhedge; which I did with a great deal of toil, and the more, because it\nrequired speed. However, as my arable land was but small, suited to my\ncrop, I got it totally well fenced in about three weeks\u2019 time; and\nshooting some of the creatures in the daytime, I set my dog to guard it\nin the night, tying him up to a stake at the gate, where he would stand\nand bark all night long; so in a little time the enemies forsook the\nplace, and the corn grew very strong and well, and began to ripen\napace.\nBut as the beasts ruined me before, while my corn was in the blade, so\nthe birds were as likely to ruin me now, when it was in the ear; for,\ngoing along by the place to see how it throve, I saw my little crop\nsurrounded with fowls, of I know not how many sorts, who stood, as it\nwere, watching till I should be gone. I immediately let fly among them,\nfor I always had my gun with me. I had no sooner shot, but there rose\nup a little cloud of fowls, which I had not seen at all, from among the\ncorn itself.\nThis touched me sensibly, for I foresaw that in a few days they would\ndevour all my hopes; that I should be starved, and never be able to\nraise a crop at all; and what to do I could not tell; however, I\nresolved not to lose my corn, if possible, though I should watch it\nnight and day. In the first place, I went among it to see what damage\nwas already done, and found they had spoiled a good deal of it; but\nthat as it was yet too green for them, the loss was not so great but\nthat the remainder was likely to be a good crop if it could be saved.\nI stayed by it to load my gun, and then coming away, I could easily see\nthe thieves sitting upon all the trees about me, as if they only waited\ntill I was gone away, and the event proved it to be so; for as I walked\noff, as if I was gone, I was no sooner out of their sight than they\ndropped down one by one into the corn again. I was so provoked, that I\ncould not have patience to stay till more came on, knowing that every\ngrain that they ate now was, as it might be said, a peck-loaf to me in\nthe consequence; but coming up to the hedge, I fired again, and killed\nthree of them. This was what I wished for; so I took them up, and\nserved them as we serve notorious thieves in England\u2014hanged them in\nchains, for a terror to others. It is impossible to imagine that this\nshould have such an effect as it had, for the fowls would not only not\ncome at the corn, but, in short, they forsook all that part of the\nisland, and I could never see a bird near the place as long as my\nscarecrows hung there. This I was very glad of, you may be sure, and\nabout the latter end of December, which was our second harvest of the\nyear, I reaped my corn.\nI was sadly put to it for a scythe or sickle to cut it down, and all I\ncould do was to make one, as well as I could, out of one of the\nbroadswords, or cutlasses, which I saved among the arms out of the\nship. However, as my first crop was but small, I had no great\ndifficulty to cut it down; in short, I reaped it in my way, for I cut\nnothing off but the ears, and carried it away in a great basket which I\nhad made, and so rubbed it out with my hands; and at the end of all my\nharvesting, I found that out of my half-peck of seed I had near two\nbushels of rice, and about two bushels and a half of barley; that is to\nsay, by my guess, for I had no measure at that time.\nHowever, this was a great encouragement to me, and I foresaw that, in\ntime, it would please God to supply me with bread. And yet here I was\nperplexed again, for I neither knew how to grind or make meal of my\ncorn, or indeed how to clean it and part it; nor, if made into meal,\nhow to make bread of it; and if how to make it, yet I knew not how to\nbake it. These things being added to my desire of having a good\nquantity for store, and to secure a constant supply, I resolved not to\ntaste any of this crop but to preserve it all for seed against the next\nseason; and in the meantime to employ all my study and hours of working\nto accomplish this great work of providing myself with corn and bread.\nIt might be truly said, that now I worked for my bread. I believe few\npeople have thought much upon the strange multitude of little things\nnecessary in the providing, producing, curing, dressing, making, and\nfinishing this one article of bread.\nI, that was reduced to a mere state of nature, found this to my daily\ndiscouragement; and was made more sensible of it every hour, even after\nI had got the first handful of seed-corn, which, as I have said, came\nup unexpectedly, and indeed to a surprise.\nFirst, I had no plough to turn up the earth\u2014no spade or shovel to dig\nit. Well, this I conquered by making me a wooden spade, as I observed\nbefore; but this did my work but in a wooden manner; and though it cost\nme a great many days to make it, yet, for want of iron, it not only\nwore out soon, but made my work the harder, and made it be performed\nmuch worse. However, this I bore with, and was content to work it out\nwith patience, and bear with the badness of the performance. When the\ncorn was sown, I had no harrow, but was forced to go over it myself,\nand drag a great heavy bough of a tree over it, to scratch it, as it\nmay be called, rather than rake or harrow it. When it was growing, and\ngrown, I have observed already how many things I wanted to fence it,\nsecure it, mow or reap it, cure and carry it home, thrash, part it from\nthe chaff, and save it. Then I wanted a mill to grind it, sieves to\ndress it, yeast and salt to make it into bread, and an oven to bake it;\nbut all these things I did without, as shall be observed; and yet the\ncorn was an inestimable comfort and advantage to me too. All this, as I\nsaid, made everything laborious and tedious to me; but that there was\nno help for. Neither was my time so much loss to me, because, as I had\ndivided it, a certain part of it was every day appointed to these\nworks; and as I had resolved to use none of the corn for bread till I\nhad a greater quantity by me, I had the next six months to apply myself\nwholly, by labour and invention, to furnish myself with utensils proper\nfor the performing all the operations necessary for making the corn,\nwhen I had it, fit for my use.\nCHAPTER IX. A BOAT\nBut first I was to prepare more land, for I had now seed enough to sow\nabove an acre of ground. Before I did this, I had a week\u2019s work at\nleast to make me a spade, which, when it was done, was but a sorry one\nindeed, and very heavy, and required double labour to work with it.\nHowever, I got through that, and sowed my seed in two large flat pieces\nof ground, as near my house as I could find them to my mind, and fenced\nthem in with a good hedge, the stakes of which were all cut off that\nwood which I had set before, and knew it would grow; so that, in a\nyear\u2019s time, I knew I should have a quick or living hedge, that would\nwant but little repair. This work did not take me up less than three\nmonths, because a great part of that time was the wet season, when I\ncould not go abroad. Within-doors, that is when it rained and I could\nnot go out, I found employment in the following occupations\u2014always\nobserving, that all the while I was at work I diverted myself with\ntalking to my parrot, and teaching him to speak; and I quickly taught\nhim to know his own name, and at last to speak it out pretty loud,\n\u201cPoll,\u201d which was the first word I ever heard spoken in the island by\nany mouth but my own. This, therefore, was not my work, but an\nassistance to my work; for now, as I said, I had a great employment\nupon my hands, as follows: I had long studied to make, by some means or\nother, some earthen vessels, which, indeed, I wanted sorely, but knew\nnot where to come at them. However, considering the heat of the\nclimate, I did not doubt but if I could find out any clay, I might make\nsome pots that might, being dried in the sun, be hard enough and strong\nenough to bear handling, and to hold anything that was dry, and\nrequired to be kept so; and as this was necessary in the preparing\ncorn, meal, &c., which was the thing I was doing, I resolved to make\nsome as large as I could, and fit only to stand like jars, to hold what\nshould be put into them.\nIt would make the reader pity me, or rather laugh at me, to tell how\nmany awkward ways I took to raise this paste; what odd, misshapen, ugly\nthings I made; how many of them fell in and how many fell out, the clay\nnot being stiff enough to bear its own weight; how many cracked by the\nover-violent heat of the sun, being set out too hastily; and how many\nfell in pieces with only removing, as well before as after they were\ndried; and, in a word, how, after having laboured hard to find the\nclay\u2014to dig it, to temper it, to bring it home, and work it\u2014I could not\nmake above two large earthen ugly things (I cannot call them jars) in\nabout two months\u2019 labour.\nHowever, as the sun baked these two very dry and hard, I lifted them\nvery gently up, and set them down again in two great wicker baskets,\nwhich I had made on purpose for them, that they might not break; and as\nbetween the pot and the basket there was a little room to spare, I\nstuffed it full of the rice and barley straw; and these two pots being\nto stand always dry I thought would hold my dry corn, and perhaps the\nmeal, when the corn was bruised.\nThough I miscarried so much in my design for large pots, yet I made\nseveral smaller things with better success; such as little round pots,\nflat dishes, pitchers, and pipkins, and any things my hand turned to;\nand the heat of the sun baked them quite hard.\nBut all this would not answer my end, which was to get an earthen pot\nto hold what was liquid, and bear the fire, which none of these could\ndo. It happened after some time, making a pretty large fire for cooking\nmy meat, when I went to put it out after I had done with it, I found a\nbroken piece of one of my earthenware vessels in the fire, burnt as\nhard as a stone, and red as a tile. I was agreeably surprised to see\nit, and said to myself, that certainly they might be made to burn\nwhole, if they would burn broken.\nThis set me to study how to order my fire, so as to make it burn some\npots. I had no notion of a kiln, such as the potters burn in, or of\nglazing them with lead, though I had some lead to do it with; but I\nplaced three large pipkins and two or three pots in a pile, one upon\nanother, and placed my firewood all round it, with a great heap of\nembers under them. I plied the fire with fresh fuel round the outside\nand upon the top, till I saw the pots in the inside red-hot quite\nthrough, and observed that they did not crack at all. When I saw them\nclear red, I let them stand in that heat about five or six hours, till\nI found one of them, though it did not crack, did melt or run; for the\nsand which was mixed with the clay melted by the violence of the heat,\nand would have run into glass if I had gone on; so I slacked my fire\ngradually till the pots began to abate of the red colour; and watching\nthem all night, that I might not let the fire abate too fast, in the\nmorning I had three very good (I will not say handsome) pipkins, and\ntwo other earthen pots, as hard burnt as could be desired, and one of\nthem perfectly glazed with the running of the sand.\nAfter this experiment, I need not say that I wanted no sort of\nearthenware for my use; but I must needs say as to the shapes of them,\nthey were very indifferent, as any one may suppose, when I had no way\nof making them but as the children make dirt pies, or as a woman would\nmake pies that never learned to raise paste.\nNo joy at a thing of so mean a nature was ever equal to mine, when I\nfound I had made an earthen pot that would bear the fire; and I had\nhardly patience to stay till they were cold before I set one on the\nfire again with some water in it to boil me some meat, which it did\nadmirably well; and with a piece of a kid I made some very good broth,\nthough I wanted oatmeal, and several other ingredients requisite to\nmake it as good as I would have had it been.\nMy next concern was to get me a stone mortar to stamp or beat some corn\nin; for as to the mill, there was no thought of arriving at that\nperfection of art with one pair of hands. To supply this want, I was at\na great loss; for, of all the trades in the world, I was as perfectly\nunqualified for a stone-cutter as for any whatever; neither had I any\ntools to go about it with. I spent many a day to find out a great stone\nbig enough to cut hollow, and make fit for a mortar, and could find\nnone at all, except what was in the solid rock, and which I had no way\nto dig or cut out; nor indeed were the rocks in the island of hardness\nsufficient, but were all of a sandy, crumbling stone, which neither\nwould bear the weight of a heavy pestle, nor would break the corn\nwithout filling it with sand. So, after a great deal of time lost in\nsearching for a stone, I gave it over, and resolved to look out for a\ngreat block of hard wood, which I found, indeed, much easier; and\ngetting one as big as I had strength to stir, I rounded it, and formed\nit on the outside with my axe and hatchet, and then with the help of\nfire and infinite labour, made a hollow place in it, as the Indians in\nBrazil make their canoes. After this, I made a great heavy pestle or\nbeater of the wood called the iron-wood; and this I prepared and laid\nby against I had my next crop of corn, which I proposed to myself to\ngrind, or rather pound into meal to make bread.\nMy next difficulty was to make a sieve or searce, to dress my meal, and\nto part it from the bran and the husk; without which I did not see it\npossible I could have any bread. This was a most difficult thing even\nto think on, for to be sure I had nothing like the necessary thing to\nmake it\u2014I mean fine thin canvas or stuff to searce the meal through.\nAnd here I was at a full stop for many months; nor did I really know\nwhat to do. Linen I had none left but what was mere rags; I had goat\u2019s\nhair, but neither knew how to weave it or spin it; and had I known how,\nhere were no tools to work it with. All the remedy that I found for\nthis was, that at last I did remember I had, among the seamen\u2019s clothes\nwhich were saved out of the ship, some neckcloths of calico or muslin;\nand with some pieces of these I made three small sieves proper enough\nfor the work; and thus I made shift for some years: how I did\nafterwards, I shall show in its place.\nThe baking part was the next thing to be considered, and how I should\nmake bread when I came to have corn; for first, I had no yeast. As to\nthat part, there was no supplying the want, so I did not concern myself\nmuch about it. But for an oven I was indeed in great pain. At length I\nfound out an experiment for that also, which was this: I made some\nearthen-vessels very broad but not deep, that is to say, about two feet\ndiameter, and not above nine inches deep. These I burned in the fire,\nas I had done the other, and laid them by; and when I wanted to bake, I\nmade a great fire upon my hearth, which I had paved with some square\ntiles of my own baking and burning also; but I should not call them\nsquare.\nWhen the firewood was burned pretty much into embers or live coals, I\ndrew them forward upon this hearth, so as to cover it all over, and\nthere I let them lie till the hearth was very hot. Then sweeping away\nall the embers, I set down my loaf or loaves, and whelming down the\nearthen pot upon them, drew the embers all round the outside of the\npot, to keep in and add to the heat; and thus as well as in the best\noven in the world, I baked my barley-loaves, and became in little time\na good pastrycook into the bargain; for I made myself several cakes and\npuddings of the rice; but I made no pies, neither had I anything to put\ninto them supposing I had, except the flesh either of fowls or goats.\nIt need not be wondered at if all these things took me up most part of\nthe third year of my abode here; for it is to be observed that in the\nintervals of these things I had my new harvest and husbandry to manage;\nfor I reaped my corn in its season, and carried it home as well as I\ncould, and laid it up in the ear, in my large baskets, till I had time\nto rub it out, for I had no floor to thrash it on, or instrument to\nthrash it with.\nAnd now, indeed, my stock of corn increasing, I really wanted to build\nmy barns bigger; I wanted a place to lay it up in, for the increase of\nthe corn now yielded me so much, that I had of the barley about twenty\nbushels, and of the rice as much or more; insomuch that now I resolved\nto begin to use it freely; for my bread had been quite gone a great\nwhile; also I resolved to see what quantity would be sufficient for me\na whole year, and to sow but once a year.\nUpon the whole, I found that the forty bushels of barley and rice were\nmuch more than I could consume in a year; so I resolved to sow just the\nsame quantity every year that I sowed the last, in hopes that such a\nquantity would fully provide me with bread, &c.\nAll the while these things were doing, you may be sure my thoughts ran\nmany times upon the prospect of land which I had seen from the other\nside of the island; and I was not without secret wishes that I were on\nshore there, fancying that, seeing the mainland, and an inhabited\ncountry, I might find some way or other to convey myself further, and\nperhaps at last find some means of escape.\nBut all this while I made no allowance for the dangers of such an\nundertaking, and how I might fall into the hands of savages, and\nperhaps such as I might have reason to think far worse than the lions\nand tigers of Africa: that if I once came in their power, I should run\na hazard of more than a thousand to one of being killed, and perhaps of\nbeing eaten; for I had heard that the people of the Caribbean coast\nwere cannibals or man-eaters, and I knew by the latitude that I could\nnot be far from that shore. Then, supposing they were not cannibals,\nyet they might kill me, as many Europeans who had fallen into their\nhands had been served, even when they had been ten or twenty\ntogether\u2014much more I, that was but one, and could make little or no\ndefence; all these things, I say, which I ought to have considered\nwell; and did come into my thoughts afterwards, yet gave me no\napprehensions at first, and my head ran mightily upon the thought of\ngetting over to the shore.\nNow I wished for my boy Xury, and the long-boat with shoulder-of-mutton\nsail, with which I sailed above a thousand miles on the coast of\nAfrica; but this was in vain: then I thought I would go and look at our\nship\u2019s boat, which, as I have said, was blown up upon the shore a great\nway, in the storm, when we were first cast away. She lay almost where\nshe did at first, but not quite; and was turned, by the force of the\nwaves and the winds, almost bottom upward, against a high ridge of\nbeachy, rough sand, but no water about her. If I had had hands to have\nrefitted her, and to have launched her into the water, the boat would\nhave done well enough, and I might have gone back into the Brazils with\nher easily enough; but I might have foreseen that I could no more turn\nher and set her upright upon her bottom than I could remove the island;\nhowever, I went to the woods, and cut levers and rollers, and brought\nthem to the boat resolving to try what I could do; suggesting to myself\nthat if I could but turn her down, I might repair the damage she had\nreceived, and she would be a very good boat, and I might go to sea in\nher very easily.\nI spared no pains, indeed, in this piece of fruitless toil, and spent,\nI think, three or four weeks about it; at last finding it impossible to\nheave it up with my little strength, I fell to digging away the sand,\nto undermine it, and so to make it fall down, setting pieces of wood to\nthrust and guide it right in the fall.\nBut when I had done this, I was unable to stir it up again, or to get\nunder it, much less to move it forward towards the water; so I was\nforced to give it over; and yet, though I gave over the hopes of the\nboat, my desire to venture over for the main increased, rather than\ndecreased, as the means for it seemed impossible.\nThis at length put me upon thinking whether it was not possible to make\nmyself a canoe, or periagua, such as the natives of those climates\nmake, even without tools, or, as I might say, without hands, of the\ntrunk of a great tree. This I not only thought possible, but easy, and\npleased myself extremely with the thoughts of making it, and with my\nhaving much more convenience for it than any of the negroes or Indians;\nbut not at all considering the particular inconveniences which I lay\nunder more than the Indians did\u2014viz. want of hands to move it, when it\nwas made, into the water\u2014a difficulty much harder for me to surmount\nthan all the consequences of want of tools could be to them; for what\nwas it to me, if when I had chosen a vast tree in the woods, and with\nmuch trouble cut it down, if I had been able with my tools to hew and\ndub the outside into the proper shape of a boat, and burn or cut out\nthe inside to make it hollow, so as to make a boat of it\u2014if, after all\nthis, I must leave it just there where I found it, and not be able to\nlaunch it into the water?\nOne would have thought I could not have had the least reflection upon\nmy mind of my circumstances while I was making this boat, but I should\nhave immediately thought how I should get it into the sea; but my\nthoughts were so intent upon my voyage over the sea in it, that I never\nonce considered how I should get it off the land: and it was really, in\nits own nature, more easy for me to guide it over forty-five miles of\nsea than about forty-five fathoms of land, where it lay, to set it\nafloat in the water.\nI went to work upon this boat the most like a fool that ever man did\nwho had any of his senses awake. I pleased myself with the design,\nwithout determining whether I was ever able to undertake it; not but\nthat the difficulty of launching my boat came often into my head; but I\nput a stop to my inquiries into it by this foolish answer which I gave\nmyself\u2014\u201cLet me first make it; I warrant I will find some way or other\nto get it along when it is done.\u201d\nThis was a most preposterous method; but the eagerness of my fancy\nprevailed, and to work I went. I felled a cedar-tree, and I question\nmuch whether Solomon ever had such a one for the building of the Temple\nof Jerusalem; it was five feet ten inches diameter at the lower part\nnext the stump, and four feet eleven inches diameter at the end of\ntwenty-two feet; after which it lessened for a while, and then parted\ninto branches. It was not without infinite labour that I felled this\ntree; I was twenty days hacking and hewing at it at the bottom; I was\nfourteen more getting the branches and limbs and the vast spreading\nhead cut off, which I hacked and hewed through with axe and hatchet,\nand inexpressible labour; after this, it cost me a month to shape it\nand dub it to a proportion, and to something like the bottom of a boat,\nthat it might swim upright as it ought to do. It cost me near three\nmonths more to clear the inside, and work it out so as to make an exact\nboat of it; this I did, indeed, without fire, by mere mallet and\nchisel, and by the dint of hard labour, till I had brought it to be a\nvery handsome periagua, and big enough to have carried six-and-twenty\nmen, and consequently big enough to have carried me and all my cargo.\nWhen I had gone through this work I was extremely delighted with it.\nThe boat was really much bigger than ever I saw a canoe or periagua,\nthat was made of one tree, in my life. Many a weary stroke it had cost,\nyou may be sure; and had I gotten it into the water, I make no\nquestion, but I should have begun the maddest voyage, and the most\nunlikely to be performed, that ever was undertaken.\nBut all my devices to get it into the water failed me; though they cost\nme infinite labour too. It lay about one hundred yards from the water,\nand not more; but the first inconvenience was, it was up hill towards\nthe creek. Well, to take away this discouragement, I resolved to dig\ninto the surface of the earth, and so make a declivity: this I began,\nand it cost me a prodigious deal of pains (but who grudge pains who\nhave their deliverance in view?); but when this was worked through, and\nthis difficulty managed, it was still much the same, for I could no\nmore stir the canoe than I could the other boat. Then I measured the\ndistance of ground, and resolved to cut a dock or canal, to bring the\nwater up to the canoe, seeing I could not bring the canoe down to the\nwater. Well, I began this work; and when I began to enter upon it, and\ncalculate how deep it was to be dug, how broad, how the stuff was to be\nthrown out, I found that, by the number of hands I had, being none but\nmy own, it must have been ten or twelve years before I could have gone\nthrough with it; for the shore lay so high, that at the upper end it\nmust have been at least twenty feet deep; so at length, though with\ngreat reluctancy, I gave this attempt over also.\nThis grieved me heartily; and now I saw, though too late, the folly of\nbeginning a work before we count the cost, and before we judge rightly\nof our own strength to go through with it.\nIn the middle of this work I finished my fourth year in this place, and\nkept my anniversary with the same devotion, and with as much comfort as\never before; for, by a constant study and serious application to the\nWord of God, and by the assistance of His grace, I gained a different\nknowledge from what I had before. I entertained different notions of\nthings. I looked now upon the world as a thing remote, which I had\nnothing to do with, no expectations from, and, indeed, no desires\nabout: in a word, I had nothing indeed to do with it, nor was ever\nlikely to have, so I thought it looked, as we may perhaps look upon it\nhereafter\u2014viz. as a place I had lived in, but was come out of it; and\nwell might I say, as Father Abraham to Dives, \u201cBetween me and thee is a\ngreat gulf fixed.\u201d\nIn the first place, I was removed from all the wickedness of the world\nhere; I had neither the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, nor\nthe pride of life. I had nothing to covet, for I had all that I was now\ncapable of enjoying; I was lord of the whole manor; or, if I pleased, I\nmight call myself king or emperor over the whole country which I had\npossession of: there were no rivals; I had no competitor, none to\ndispute sovereignty or command with me: I might have raised\nship-loadings of corn, but I had no use for it; so I let as little grow\nas I thought enough for my occasion. I had tortoise or turtle enough,\nbut now and then one was as much as I could put to any use: I had\ntimber enough to have built a fleet of ships; and I had grapes enough\nto have made wine, or to have cured into raisins, to have loaded that\nfleet when it had been built.\nBut all I could make use of was all that was valuable: I had enough to\neat and supply my wants, and what was all the rest to me? If I killed\nmore flesh than I could eat, the dog must eat it, or vermin; if I sowed\nmore corn than I could eat, it must be spoiled; the trees that I cut\ndown were lying to rot on the ground; I could make no more use of them\nbut for fuel, and that I had no occasion for but to dress my food.\nIn a word, the nature and experience of things dictated to me, upon\njust reflection, that all the good things of this world are no farther\ngood to us than they are for our use; and that, whatever we may heap up\nto give others, we enjoy just as much as we can use, and no more. The\nmost covetous, griping miser in the world would have been cured of the\nvice of covetousness if he had been in my case; for I possessed\ninfinitely more than I knew what to do with. I had no room for desire,\nexcept it was of things which I had not, and they were but trifles,\nthough, indeed, of great use to me. I had, as I hinted before, a parcel\nof money, as well gold as silver, about thirty-six pounds sterling.\nAlas! there the sorry, useless stuff lay; I had no more manner of\nbusiness for it; and often thought with myself that I would have given\na handful of it for a gross of tobacco-pipes; or for a hand-mill to\ngrind my corn; nay, I would have given it all for a sixpenny-worth of\nturnip and carrot seed out of England, or for a handful of peas and\nbeans, and a bottle of ink. As it was, I had not the least advantage by\nit or benefit from it; but there it lay in a drawer, and grew mouldy\nwith the damp of the cave in the wet seasons; and if I had had the\ndrawer full of diamonds, it had been the same case\u2014they had been of no\nmanner of value to me, because of no use.\nI had now brought my state of life to be much easier in itself than it\nwas at first, and much easier to my mind, as well as to my body. I\nfrequently sat down to meat with thankfulness, and admired the hand of\nGod\u2019s providence, which had thus spread my table in the wilderness. I\nlearned to look more upon the bright side of my condition, and less\nupon the dark side, and to consider what I enjoyed rather than what I\nwanted; and this gave me sometimes such secret comforts, that I cannot\nexpress them; and which I take notice of here, to put those\ndiscontented people in mind of it, who cannot enjoy comfortably what\nGod has given them, because they see and covet something that He has\nnot given them. All our discontents about what we want appeared to me\nto spring from the want of thankfulness for what we have.\nAnother reflection was of great use to me, and doubtless would be so to\nany one that should fall into such distress as mine was; and this was,\nto compare my present condition with what I at first expected it would\nbe; nay, with what it would certainly have been, if the good providence\nof God had not wonderfully ordered the ship to be cast up nearer to the\nshore, where I not only could come at her, but could bring what I got\nout of her to the shore, for my relief and comfort; without which, I\nhad wanted for tools to work, weapons for defence, and gunpowder and\nshot for getting my food.\nI spent whole hours, I may say whole days, in representing to myself,\nin the most lively colours, how I must have acted if I had got nothing\nout of the ship. How I could not have so much as got any food, except\nfish and turtles; and that, as it was long before I found any of them,\nI must have perished first; that I should have lived, if I had not\nperished, like a mere savage; that if I had killed a goat or a fowl, by\nany contrivance, I had no way to flay or open it, or part the flesh\nfrom the skin and the bowels, or to cut it up; but must gnaw it with my\nteeth, and pull it with my claws, like a beast.\nThese reflections made me very sensible of the goodness of Providence\nto me, and very thankful for my present condition, with all its\nhardships and misfortunes; and this part also I cannot but recommend to\nthe reflection of those who are apt, in their misery, to say, \u201cIs any\naffliction like mine?\u201d Let them consider how much worse the cases of\nsome people are, and their case might have been, if Providence had\nthought fit.\nI had another reflection, which assisted me also to comfort my mind\nwith hopes; and this was comparing my present situation with what I had\ndeserved, and had therefore reason to expect from the hand of\nProvidence. I had lived a dreadful life, perfectly destitute of the\nknowledge and fear of God. I had been well instructed by father and\nmother; neither had they been wanting to me in their early endeavours\nto infuse a religious awe of God into my mind, a sense of my duty, and\nwhat the nature and end of my being required of me. But, alas! falling\nearly into the seafaring life, which of all lives is the most destitute\nof the fear of God, though His terrors are always before them; I say,\nfalling early into the seafaring life, and into seafaring company, all\nthat little sense of religion which I had entertained was laughed out\nof me by my messmates; by a hardened despising of dangers, and the\nviews of death, which grew habitual to me by my long absence from all\nmanner of opportunities to converse with anything but what was like\nmyself, or to hear anything that was good or tended towards it.\nSo void was I of everything that was good, or the least sense of what I\nwas, or was to be, that, in the greatest deliverances I enjoyed\u2014such as\nmy escape from Sallee; my being taken up by the Portuguese master of\nthe ship; my being planted so well in the Brazils; my receiving the\ncargo from England, and the like\u2014I never had once the words \u201cThank\nGod!\u201d so much as on my mind, or in my mouth; nor in the greatest\ndistress had I so much as a thought to pray to Him, or so much as to\nsay, \u201cLord, have mercy upon me!\u201d no, nor to mention the name of God,\nunless it was to swear by, and blaspheme it.\nI had terrible reflections upon my mind for many months, as I have\nalready observed, on account of my wicked and hardened life past; and\nwhen I looked about me, and considered what particular providences had\nattended me since my coming into this place, and how God had dealt\nbountifully with me\u2014had not only punished me less than my iniquity had\ndeserved, but had so plentifully provided for me\u2014this gave me great\nhopes that my repentance was accepted, and that God had yet mercy in\nstore for me.\nWith these reflections I worked my mind up, not only to a resignation\nto the will of God in the present disposition of my circumstances, but\neven to a sincere thankfulness for my condition; and that I, who was\nyet a living man, ought not to complain, seeing I had not the due\npunishment of my sins; that I enjoyed so many mercies which I had no\nreason to have expected in that place; that I ought never more to\nrepine at my condition, but to rejoice, and to give daily thanks for\nthat daily bread, which nothing but a crowd of wonders could have\nbrought; that I ought to consider I had been fed even by a miracle,\neven as great as that of feeding Elijah by ravens, nay, by a long\nseries of miracles; and that I could hardly have named a place in the\nuninhabitable part of the world where I could have been cast more to my\nadvantage; a place where, as I had no society, which was my affliction\non one hand, so I found no ravenous beasts, no furious wolves or\ntigers, to threaten my life; no venomous creatures, or poisons, which I\nmight feed on to my hurt; no savages to murder and devour me. In a\nword, as my life was a life of sorrow one way, so it was a life of\nmercy another; and I wanted nothing to make it a life of comfort but to\nbe able to make my sense of God\u2019s goodness to me, and care over me in\nthis condition, be my daily consolation; and after I did make a just\nimprovement on these things, I went away, and was no more sad. I had\nnow been here so long that many things which I had brought on shore for\nmy help were either quite gone, or very much wasted and near spent.\nMy ink, as I observed, had been gone some time, all but a very little,\nwhich I eked out with water, a little and a little, till it was so\npale, it scarce left any appearance of black upon the paper. As long as\nit lasted I made use of it to minute down the days of the month on\nwhich any remarkable thing happened to me; and first, by casting up\ntimes past, I remembered that there was a strange concurrence of days\nin the various providences which befell me, and which, if I had been\nsuperstitiously inclined to observe days as fatal or fortunate, I might\nhave had reason to have looked upon with a great deal of curiosity.\nFirst, I had observed that the same day that I broke away from my\nfather and friends and ran away to Hull, in order to go to sea, the\nsame day afterwards I was taken by the Sallee man-of-war, and made a\nslave; the same day of the year that I escaped out of the wreck of that\nship in Yarmouth Roads, that same day-year afterwards I made my escape\nfrom Sallee in a boat; the same day of the year I was born on\u2014viz. the\n30th of September, that same day I had my life so miraculously saved\ntwenty-six years after, when I was cast on shore in this island; so\nthat my wicked life and my solitary life began both on a day.\nThe next thing to my ink being wasted was that of my bread\u2014I mean the\nbiscuit which I brought out of the ship; this I had husbanded to the\nlast degree, allowing myself but one cake of bread a-day for above a\nyear; and yet I was quite without bread for near a year before I got\nany corn of my own, and great reason I had to be thankful that I had\nany at all, the getting it being, as has been already observed, next to\nmiraculous.\nMy clothes, too, began to decay; as to linen, I had had none a good\nwhile, except some chequered shirts which I found in the chests of the\nother seamen, and which I carefully preserved; because many times I\ncould bear no other clothes on but a shirt; and it was a very great\nhelp to me that I had, among all the men\u2019s clothes of the ship, almost\nthree dozen of shirts. There were also, indeed, several thick\nwatch-coats of the seamen\u2019s which were left, but they were too hot to\nwear; and though it is true that the weather was so violently hot that\nthere was no need of clothes, yet I could not go quite naked\u2014no, though\nI had been inclined to it, which I was not\u2014nor could I abide the\nthought of it, though I was alone. The reason why I could not go naked\nwas, I could not bear the heat of the sun so well when quite naked as\nwith some clothes on; nay, the very heat frequently blistered my skin:\nwhereas, with a shirt on, the air itself made some motion, and\nwhistling under the shirt, was twofold cooler than without it. No more\ncould I ever bring myself to go out in the heat of the sun without a\ncap or a hat; the heat of the sun, beating with such violence as it\ndoes in that place, would give me the headache presently, by darting so\ndirectly on my head, without a cap or hat on, so that I could not bear\nit; whereas, if I put on my hat it would presently go away.\nUpon these views I began to consider about putting the few rags I had,\nwhich I called clothes, into some order; I had worn out all the\nwaistcoats I had, and my business was now to try if I could not make\njackets out of the great watch-coats which I had by me, and with such\nother materials as I had; so I set to work, tailoring, or rather,\nindeed, botching, for I made most piteous work of it. However, I made\nshift to make two or three new waistcoats, which I hoped would serve me\na great while: as for breeches or drawers, I made but a very sorry\nshift indeed till afterwards.\nI have mentioned that I saved the skins of all the creatures that I\nkilled, I mean four-footed ones, and I had them hung up, stretched out\nwith sticks in the sun, by which means some of them were so dry and\nhard that they were fit for little, but others were very useful. The\nfirst thing I made of these was a great cap for my head, with the hair\non the outside, to shoot off the rain; and this I performed so well,\nthat after I made me a suit of clothes wholly of these skins\u2014that is to\nsay, a waistcoat, and breeches open at the knees, and both loose, for\nthey were rather wanting to keep me cool than to keep me warm. I must\nnot omit to acknowledge that they were wretchedly made; for if I was a\nbad carpenter, I was a worse tailor. However, they were such as I made\nvery good shift with, and when I was out, if it happened to rain, the\nhair of my waistcoat and cap being outermost, I was kept very dry.\nAfter this, I spent a great deal of time and pains to make an umbrella;\nI was, indeed, in great want of one, and had a great mind to make one;\nI had seen them made in the Brazils, where they are very useful in the\ngreat heats there, and I felt the heats every jot as great here, and\ngreater too, being nearer the equinox; besides, as I was obliged to be\nmuch abroad, it was a most useful thing to me, as well for the rains as\nthe heats. I took a world of pains with it, and was a great while\nbefore I could make anything likely to hold: nay, after I had thought I\nhad hit the way, I spoiled two or three before I made one to my mind:\nbut at last I made one that answered indifferently well: the main\ndifficulty I found was to make it let down. I could make it spread, but\nif it did not let down too, and draw in, it was not portable for me any\nway but just over my head, which would not do. However, at last, as I\nsaid, I made one to answer, and covered it with skins, the hair\nupwards, so that it cast off the rain like a pent-house, and kept off\nthe sun so effectually, that I could walk out in the hottest of the\nweather with greater advantage than I could before in the coolest, and\nwhen I had no need of it could close it, and carry it under my arm.\nThus I lived mighty comfortably, my mind being entirely composed by\nresigning myself to the will of God, and throwing myself wholly upon\nthe disposal of His providence. This made my life better than sociable,\nfor when I began to regret the want of conversation I would ask myself,\nwhether thus conversing mutually with my own thoughts, and (as I hope I\nmay say) with even God Himself, by ejaculations, was not better than\nthe utmost enjoyment of human society in the world?\nCHAPTER X. TAMES GOATS\nI cannot say that after this, for five years, any extraordinary thing\nhappened to me, but I lived on in the same course, in the same posture\nand place, as before; the chief things I was employed in, besides my\nyearly labour of planting my barley and rice, and curing my raisins, of\nboth which I always kept up just enough to have sufficient stock of one\nyear\u2019s provisions beforehand; I say, besides this yearly labour, and my\ndaily pursuit of going out with my gun, I had one labour, to make a\ncanoe, which at last I finished: so that, by digging a canal to it of\nsix feet wide and four feet deep, I brought it into the creek, almost\nhalf a mile. As for the first, which was so vastly big, for I made it\nwithout considering beforehand, as I ought to have done, how I should\nbe able to launch it, so, never being able to bring it into the water,\nor bring the water to it, I was obliged to let it lie where it was as a\nmemorandum to teach me to be wiser the next time: indeed, the next\ntime, though I could not get a tree proper for it, and was in a place\nwhere I could not get the water to it at any less distance than, as I\nhave said, near half a mile, yet, as I saw it was practicable at last,\nI never gave it over; and though I was near two years about it, yet I\nnever grudged my labour, in hopes of having a boat to go off to sea at\nlast.\nHowever, though my little periagua was finished, yet the size of it was\nnot at all answerable to the design which I had in view when I made the\nfirst; I mean of venturing over to the _terra firma_, where it was\nabove forty miles broad; accordingly, the smallness of my boat assisted\nto put an end to that design, and now I thought no more of it. As I had\na boat, my next design was to make a cruise round the island; for as I\nhad been on the other side in one place, crossing, as I have already\ndescribed it, over the land, so the discoveries I made in that little\njourney made me very eager to see other parts of the coast; and now I\nhad a boat, I thought of nothing but sailing round the island.\nFor this purpose, that I might do everything with discretion and\nconsideration, I fitted up a little mast in my boat, and made a sail\ntoo out of some of the pieces of the ship\u2019s sails which lay in store,\nand of which I had a great stock by me. Having fitted my mast and sail,\nand tried the boat, I found she would sail very well; then I made\nlittle lockers or boxes at each end of my boat, to put provisions,\nnecessaries, ammunition, &c., into, to be kept dry, either from rain or\nthe spray of the sea; and a little, long, hollow place I cut in the\ninside of the boat, where I could lay my gun, making a flap to hang\ndown over it to keep it dry.\nI fixed my umbrella also in the step at the stern, like a mast, to\nstand over my head, and keep the heat of the sun off me, like an\nawning; and thus I every now and then took a little voyage upon the\nsea, but never went far out, nor far from the little creek. At last,\nbeing eager to view the circumference of my little kingdom, I resolved\nupon my cruise; and accordingly I victualled my ship for the voyage,\nputting in two dozen of loaves (cakes I should call them) of\nbarley-bread, an earthen pot full of parched rice (a food I ate a good\ndeal of), a little bottle of rum, half a goat, and powder and shot for\nkilling more, and two large watch-coats, of those which, as I mentioned\nbefore, I had saved out of the seamen\u2019s chests; these I took, one to\nlie upon, and the other to cover me in the night.\nIt was the 6th of November, in the sixth year of my reign\u2014or my\ncaptivity, which you please\u2014that I set out on this voyage, and I found\nit much longer than I expected; for though the island itself was not\nvery large, yet when I came to the east side of it, I found a great\nledge of rocks lie out about two leagues into the sea, some above\nwater, some under it; and beyond that a shoal of sand, lying dry half a\nleague more, so that I was obliged to go a great way out to sea to\ndouble the point.\nWhen I first discovered them, I was going to give over my enterprise,\nand come back again, not knowing how far it might oblige me to go out\nto sea; and above all, doubting how I should get back again: so I came\nto an anchor; for I had made a kind of an anchor with a piece of a\nbroken grappling which I got out of the ship.\nHaving secured my boat, I took my gun and went on shore, climbing up a\nhill, which seemed to overlook that point where I saw the full extent\nof it, and resolved to venture.\nIn my viewing the sea from that hill where I stood, I perceived a\nstrong, and indeed a most furious current, which ran to the east, and\neven came close to the point; and I took the more notice of it because\nI saw there might be some danger that when I came into it I might be\ncarried out to sea by the strength of it, and not be able to make the\nisland again; and indeed, had I not got first upon this hill, I believe\nit would have been so; for there was the same current on the other side\nthe island, only that it set off at a further distance, and I saw there\nwas a strong eddy under the shore; so I had nothing to do but to get\nout of the first current, and I should presently be in an eddy.\nI lay here, however, two days, because the wind blowing pretty fresh at\nESE., and that being just contrary to the current, made a great breach\nof the sea upon the point: so that it was not safe for me to keep too\nclose to the shore for the breach, nor to go too far off, because of\nthe stream.\nThe third day, in the morning, the wind having abated overnight, the\nsea was calm, and I ventured: but I am a warning to all rash and\nignorant pilots; for no sooner was I come to the point, when I was not\neven my boat\u2019s length from the shore, but I found myself in a great\ndepth of water, and a current like the sluice of a mill; it carried my\nboat along with it with such violence that all I could do could not\nkeep her so much as on the edge of it; but I found it hurried me\nfarther and farther out from the eddy, which was on my left hand. There\nwas no wind stirring to help me, and all I could do with my paddles\nsignified nothing: and now I began to give myself over for lost; for as\nthe current was on both sides of the island, I knew in a few leagues\ndistance they must join again, and then I was irrecoverably gone; nor\ndid I see any possibility of avoiding it; so that I had no prospect\nbefore me but of perishing, not by the sea, for that was calm enough,\nbut of starving from hunger. I had, indeed, found a tortoise on the\nshore, as big almost as I could lift, and had tossed it into the boat;\nand I had a great jar of fresh water, that is to say, one of my earthen\npots; but what was all this to being driven into the vast ocean, where,\nto be sure, there was no shore, no mainland or island, for a thousand\nleagues at least?\nAnd now I saw how easy it was for the providence of God to make even\nthe most miserable condition of mankind worse. Now I looked back upon\nmy desolate, solitary island as the most pleasant place in the world\nand all the happiness my heart could wish for was to be but there\nagain. I stretched out my hands to it, with eager wishes\u2014\u201cO happy\ndesert!\u201d said I, \u201cI shall never see thee more. O miserable creature!\nwhither am going?\u201d Then I reproached myself with my unthankful temper,\nand that I had repined at my solitary condition; and now what would I\ngive to be on shore there again! Thus, we never see the true state of\nour condition till it is illustrated to us by its contraries, nor know\nhow to value what we enjoy, but by the want of it. It is scarcely\npossible to imagine the consternation I was now in, being driven from\nmy beloved island (for so it appeared to me now to be) into the wide\nocean, almost two leagues, and in the utmost despair of ever recovering\nit again. However, I worked hard till, indeed, my strength was almost\nexhausted, and kept my boat as much to the northward, that is, towards\nthe side of the current which the eddy lay on, as possibly I could;\nwhen about noon, as the sun passed the meridian, I thought I felt a\nlittle breeze of wind in my face, springing up from SSE. This cheered\nmy heart a little, and especially when, in about half-an-hour more, it\nblew a pretty gentle gale. By this time I had got at a frightful\ndistance from the island, and had the least cloudy or hazy weather\nintervened, I had been undone another way, too; for I had no compass on\nboard, and should never have known how to have steered towards the\nisland, if I had but once lost sight of it; but the weather continuing\nclear, I applied myself to get up my mast again, and spread my sail,\nstanding away to the north as much as possible, to get out of the\ncurrent.\nJust as I had set my mast and sail, and the boat began to stretch away,\nI saw even by the clearness of the water some alteration of the current\nwas near; for where the current was so strong the water was foul; but\nperceiving the water clear, I found the current abate; and presently I\nfound to the east, at about half a mile, a breach of the sea upon some\nrocks: these rocks I found caused the current to part again, and as the\nmain stress of it ran away more southerly, leaving the rocks to the\nnorth-east, so the other returned by the repulse of the rocks, and made\na strong eddy, which ran back again to the north-west, with a very\nsharp stream.\nThey who know what it is to have a reprieve brought to them upon the\nladder, or to be rescued from thieves just going to murder them, or who\nhave been in such extremities, may guess what my present surprise of\njoy was, and how gladly I put my boat into the stream of this eddy; and\nthe wind also freshening, how gladly I spread my sail to it, running\ncheerfully before the wind, and with a strong tide or eddy underfoot.\nThis eddy carried me about a league on my way back again, directly\ntowards the island, but about two leagues more to the northward than\nthe current which carried me away at first; so that when I came near\nthe island, I found myself open to the northern shore of it, that is to\nsay, the other end of the island, opposite to that which I went out\nfrom.\nWhen I had made something more than a league of way by the help of this\ncurrent or eddy, I found it was spent, and served me no further.\nHowever, I found that being between two great currents\u2014viz. that on the\nsouth side, which had hurried me away, and that on the north, which lay\nabout a league on the other side; I say, between these two, in the wake\nof the island, I found the water at least still, and running no way;\nand having still a breeze of wind fair for me, I kept on steering\ndirectly for the island, though not making such fresh way as I did\nbefore.\nAbout four o\u2019clock in the evening, being then within a league of the\nisland, I found the point of the rocks which occasioned this disaster\nstretching out, as is described before, to the southward, and casting\noff the current more southerly, had, of course, made another eddy to\nthe north; and this I found very strong, but not directly setting the\nway my course lay, which was due west, but almost full north. However,\nhaving a fresh gale, I stretched across this eddy, slanting north-west;\nand in about an hour came within about a mile of the shore, where, it\nbeing smooth water, I soon got to land.\nWhen I was on shore, God I fell on my knees and gave God thanks for my\ndeliverance, resolving to lay aside all thoughts of my deliverance by\nmy boat; and refreshing myself with such things as I had, I brought my\nboat close to the shore, in a little cove that I had spied under some\ntrees, and laid me down to sleep, being quite spent with the labour and\nfatigue of the voyage.\nI was now at a great loss which way to get home with my boat! I had run\nso much hazard, and knew too much of the case, to think of attempting\nit by the way I went out; and what might be at the other side (I mean\nthe west side) I knew not, nor had I any mind to run any more ventures;\nso I resolved on the next morning to make my way westward along the\nshore, and to see if there was no creek where I might lay up my frigate\nin safety, so as to have her again if I wanted her. In about three\nmiles or thereabouts, coasting the shore, I came to a very good inlet\nor bay, about a mile over, which narrowed till it came to a very little\nrivulet or brook, where I found a very convenient harbour for my boat,\nand where she lay as if she had been in a little dock made on purpose\nfor her. Here I put in, and having stowed my boat very safe, I went on\nshore to look about me, and see where I was.\nI soon found I had but a little passed by the place where I had been\nbefore, when I travelled on foot to that shore; so taking nothing out\nof my boat but my gun and umbrella, for it was exceedingly hot, I began\nmy march. The way was comfortable enough after such a voyage as I had\nbeen upon, and I reached my old bower in the evening, where I found\neverything standing as I left it; for I always kept it in good order,\nbeing, as I said before, my country house.\nI got over the fence, and laid me down in the shade to rest my limbs,\nfor I was very weary, and fell asleep; but judge you, if you can, that\nread my story, what a surprise I must be in when I was awaked out of my\nsleep by a voice calling me by my name several times, \u201cRobin, Robin,\nRobin Crusoe: poor Robin Crusoe! Where are you, Robin Crusoe? Where are\nyou? Where have you been?\u201d\nI was so dead asleep at first, being fatigued with rowing, or part of\nthe day, and with walking the latter part, that I did not wake\nthoroughly; but dozing thought I dreamed that somebody spoke to me; but\nas the voice continued to repeat, \u201cRobin Crusoe, Robin Crusoe,\u201d at last\nI began to wake more perfectly, and was at first dreadfully frightened,\nand started up in the utmost consternation; but no sooner were my eyes\nopen, but I saw my Poll sitting on the top of the hedge; and\nimmediately knew that it was he that spoke to me; for just in such\nbemoaning language I had used to talk to him and teach him; and he had\nlearned it so perfectly that he would sit upon my finger, and lay his\nbill close to my face and cry, \u201cPoor Robin Crusoe! Where are you? Where\nhave you been? How came you here?\u201d and such things as I had taught him.\nHowever, even though I knew it was the parrot, and that indeed it could\nbe nobody else, it was a good while before I could compose myself.\nFirst, I was amazed how the creature got thither; and then, how he\nshould just keep about the place, and nowhere else; but as I was well\nsatisfied it could be nobody but honest Poll, I got over it; and\nholding out my hand, and calling him by his name, \u201cPoll,\u201d the sociable\ncreature came to me, and sat upon my thumb, as he used to do, and\ncontinued talking to me, \u201cPoor Robin Crusoe! and how did I come here?\nand where had I been?\u201d just as if he had been overjoyed to see me\nagain; and so I carried him home along with me.\nI had now had enough of rambling to sea for some time, and had enough\nto do for many days to sit still and reflect upon the danger I had been\nin. I would have been very glad to have had my boat again on my side of\nthe island; but I knew not how it was practicable to get it about. As\nto the east side of the island, which I had gone round, I knew well\nenough there was no venturing that way; my very heart would shrink, and\nmy very blood run chill, but to think of it; and as to the other side\nof the island, I did not know how it might be there; but supposing the\ncurrent ran with the same force against the shore at the east as it\npassed by it on the other, I might run the same risk of being driven\ndown the stream, and carried by the island, as I had been before of\nbeing carried away from it: so with these thoughts, I contented myself\nto be without any boat, though it had been the product of so many\nmonths\u2019 labour to make it, and of so many more to get it into the sea.\nIn this government of my temper I remained near a year; and lived a\nvery sedate, retired life, as you may well suppose; and my thoughts\nbeing very much composed as to my condition, and fully comforted in\nresigning myself to the dispositions of Providence, I thought I lived\nreally very happily in all things except that of society.\nI improved myself in this time in all the mechanic exercises which my\nnecessities put me upon applying myself to; and I believe I should,\nupon occasion, have made a very good carpenter, especially considering\nhow few tools I had.\nBesides this, I arrived at an unexpected perfection in my earthenware,\nand contrived well enough to make them with a wheel, which I found\ninfinitely easier and better; because I made things round and shaped,\nwhich before were filthy things indeed to look on. But I think I was\nnever more vain of my own performance, or more joyful for anything I\nfound out, than for my being able to make a tobacco-pipe; and though it\nwas a very ugly, clumsy thing when it was done, and only burned red,\nlike other earthenware, yet as it was hard and firm, and would draw the\nsmoke, I was exceedingly comforted with it, for I had been always used\nto smoke; and there were pipes in the ship, but I forgot them at first,\nnot thinking there was tobacco in the island; and afterwards, when I\nsearched the ship again, I could not come at any pipes.\nIn my wicker-ware also I improved much, and made abundance of necessary\nbaskets, as well as my invention showed me; though not very handsome,\nyet they were such as were very handy and convenient for laying things\nup in, or fetching things home. For example, if I killed a goat abroad,\nI could hang it up in a tree, flay it, dress it, and cut it in pieces,\nand bring it home in a basket; and the like by a turtle; I could cut it\nup, take out the eggs and a piece or two of the flesh, which was enough\nfor me, and bring them home in a basket, and leave the rest behind me.\nAlso, large deep baskets were the receivers of my corn, which I always\nrubbed out as soon as it was dry and cured, and kept it in great\nbaskets.\nI began now to perceive my powder abated considerably; this was a want\nwhich it was impossible for me to supply, and I began seriously to\nconsider what I must do when I should have no more powder; that is to\nsay, how I should kill any goats. I had, as is observed in the third\nyear of my being here, kept a young kid, and bred her up tame, and I\nwas in hopes of getting a he-goat; but I could not by any means bring\nit to pass, till my kid grew an old goat; and as I could never find in\nmy heart to kill her, she died at last of mere age.\nBut being now in the eleventh year of my residence, and, as I have\nsaid, my ammunition growing low, I set myself to study some art to trap\nand snare the goats, to see whether I could not catch some of them\nalive; and particularly I wanted a she-goat great with young. For this\npurpose I made snares to hamper them; and I do believe they were more\nthan once taken in them; but my tackle was not good, for I had no wire,\nand I always found them broken and my bait devoured. At length I\nresolved to try a pitfall; so I dug several large pits in the earth, in\nplaces where I had observed the goats used to feed, and over those pits\nI placed hurdles of my own making too, with a great weight upon them;\nand several times I put ears of barley and dry rice without setting the\ntrap; and I could easily perceive that the goats had gone in and eaten\nup the corn, for I could see the marks of their feet. At length I set\nthree traps in one night, and going the next morning I found them, all\nstanding, and yet the bait eaten and gone; this was very discouraging.\nHowever, I altered my traps; and not to trouble you with particulars,\ngoing one morning to see my traps, I found in one of them a large old\nhe-goat; and in one of the others three kids, a male and two females.\nAs to the old one, I knew not what to do with him; he was so fierce I\ndurst not go into the pit to him; that is to say, to bring him away\nalive, which was what I wanted. I could have killed him, but that was\nnot my business, nor would it answer my end; so I even let him out, and\nhe ran away as if he had been frightened out of his wits. But I did not\nthen know what I afterwards learned, that hunger will tame a lion. If I\nhad let him stay three or four days without food, and then have carried\nhim some water to drink and then a little corn, he would have been as\ntame as one of the kids; for they are mighty sagacious, tractable\ncreatures, where they are well used.\nHowever, for the present I let him go, knowing no better at that time:\nthen I went to the three kids, and taking them one by one, I tied them\nwith strings together, and with some difficulty brought them all home.\nIt was a good while before they would feed; but throwing them some\nsweet corn, it tempted them, and they began to be tame. And now I found\nthat if I expected to supply myself with goats\u2019 flesh, when I had no\npowder or shot left, breeding some up tame was my only way, when,\nperhaps, I might have them about my house like a flock of sheep. But\nthen it occurred to me that I must keep the tame from the wild, or else\nthey would always run wild when they grew up; and the only way for this\nwas to have some enclosed piece of ground, well fenced either with\nhedge or pale, to keep them in so effectually, that those within might\nnot break out, or those without break in.\nThis was a great undertaking for one pair of hands yet, as I saw there\nwas an absolute necessity for doing it, my first work was to find out a\nproper piece of ground, where there was likely to be herbage for them\nto eat, water for them to drink, and cover to keep them from the sun.\nThose who understand such enclosures will think I had very little\ncontrivance when I pitched upon a place very proper for all these\n(being a plain, open piece of meadow land, or savannah, as our people\ncall it in the western colonies), which had two or three little drills\nof fresh water in it, and at one end was very woody\u2014I say, they will\nsmile at my forecast, when I shall tell them I began by enclosing this\npiece of ground in such a manner that, my hedge or pale must have been\nat least two miles about. Nor was the madness of it so great as to the\ncompass, for if it was ten miles about, I was like to have time enough\nto do it in; but I did not consider that my goats would be as wild in\nso much compass as if they had had the whole island, and I should have\nso much room to chase them in that I should never catch them.\nMy hedge was begun and carried on, I believe, about fifty yards when\nthis thought occurred to me; so I presently stopped short, and, for the\nbeginning, I resolved to enclose a piece of about one hundred and fifty\nyards in length, and one hundred yards in breadth, which, as it would\nmaintain as many as I should have in any reasonable time, so, as my\nstock increased, I could add more ground to my enclosure.\nThis was acting with some prudence, and I went to work with courage. I\nwas about three months hedging in the first piece; and, till I had done\nit, I tethered the three kids in the best part of it, and used them to\nfeed as near me as possible, to make them familiar; and very often I\nwould go and carry them some ears of barley, or a handful of rice, and\nfeed them out of my hand; so that after my enclosure was finished and I\nlet them loose, they would follow me up and down, bleating after me for\na handful of corn.\nThis answered my end, and in about a year and a half I had a flock of\nabout twelve goats, kids and all; and in two years more I had\nthree-and-forty, besides several that I took and killed for my food.\nAfter that, I enclosed five several pieces of ground to feed them in,\nwith little pens to drive them to take them as I wanted, and gates out\nof one piece of ground into another.\nBut this was not all; for now I not only had goat\u2019s flesh to feed on\nwhen I pleased, but milk too\u2014a thing which, indeed, in the beginning, I\ndid not so much as think of, and which, when it came into my thoughts,\nwas really an agreeable surprise, for now I set up my dairy, and had\nsometimes a gallon or two of milk in a day. And as Nature, who gives\nsupplies of food to every creature, dictates even naturally how to make\nuse of it, so I, that had never milked a cow, much less a goat, or seen\nbutter or cheese made only when I was a boy, after a great many essays\nand miscarriages, made both butter and cheese at last, also salt\n(though I found it partly made to my hand by the heat of the sun upon\nsome of the rocks of the sea), and never wanted it afterwards. How\nmercifully can our Creator treat His creatures, even in those\nconditions in which they seemed to be overwhelmed in destruction! How\ncan He sweeten the bitterest providences, and give us cause to praise\nHim for dungeons and prisons! What a table was here spread for me in\nthe wilderness, where I saw nothing at first but to perish for hunger!\nCHAPTER XI. FINDS PRINT OF MAN\u2019S FOOT ON THE SAND\nIt would have made a Stoic smile to have seen me and my little family\nsit down to dinner. There was my majesty the prince and lord of the\nwhole island; I had the lives of all my subjects at my absolute\ncommand; I could hang, draw, give liberty, and take it away, and no\nrebels among all my subjects. Then, to see how like a king I dined,\ntoo, all alone, attended by my servants! Poll, as if he had been my\nfavourite, was the only person permitted to talk to me. My dog, who was\nnow grown old and crazy, and had found no species to multiply his kind\nupon, sat always at my right hand; and two cats, one on one side of the\ntable and one on the other, expecting now and then a bit from my hand,\nas a mark of especial favour.\nBut these were not the two cats which I brought on shore at first, for\nthey were both of them dead, and had been interred near my habitation\nby my own hand; but one of them having multiplied by I know not what\nkind of creature, these were two which I had preserved tame; whereas\nthe rest ran wild in the woods, and became indeed troublesome to me at\nlast, for they would often come into my house, and plunder me too, till\nat last I was obliged to shoot them, and did kill a great many; at\nlength they left me. With this attendance and in this plentiful manner\nI lived; neither could I be said to want anything but society; and of\nthat, some time after this, I was likely to have too much.\nI was something impatient, as I have observed, to have the use of my\nboat, though very loath to run any more hazards; and therefore\nsometimes I sat contriving ways to get her about the island, and at\nother times I sat myself down contented enough without her. But I had a\nstrange uneasiness in my mind to go down to the point of the island\nwhere, as I have said in my last ramble, I went up the hill to see how\nthe shore lay, and how the current set, that I might see what I had to\ndo: this inclination increased upon me every day, and at length I\nresolved to travel thither by land, following the edge of the shore. I\ndid so; but had any one in England met such a man as I was, it must\neither have frightened him, or raised a great deal of laughter; and as\nI frequently stood still to look at myself, I could not but smile at\nthe notion of my travelling through Yorkshire with such an equipage,\nand in such a dress. Be pleased to take a sketch of my figure, as\nfollows.\nI had a great high shapeless cap, made of a goat\u2019s skin, with a flap\nhanging down behind, as well to keep the sun from me as to shoot the\nrain off from running into my neck, nothing being so hurtful in these\nclimates as the rain upon the flesh under the clothes.\nI had a short jacket of goat\u2019s skin, the skirts coming down to about\nthe middle of the thighs, and a pair of open-kneed breeches of the\nsame; the breeches were made of the skin of an old he-goat, whose hair\nhung down such a length on either side that, like pantaloons, it\nreached to the middle of my legs; stockings and shoes I had none, but\nhad made me a pair of somethings, I scarce knew what to call them, like\nbuskins, to flap over my legs, and lace on either side like\nspatterdashes, but of a most barbarous shape, as indeed were all the\nrest of my clothes.\nI had on a broad belt of goat\u2019s skin dried, which I drew together with\ntwo thongs of the same instead of buckles, and in a kind of a frog on\neither side of this, instead of a sword and dagger, hung a little saw\nand a hatchet, one on one side and one on the other. I had another belt\nnot so broad, and fastened in the same manner, which hung over my\nshoulder, and at the end of it, under my left arm, hung two pouches,\nboth made of goat\u2019s skin too, in one of which hung my powder, in the\nother my shot. At my back I carried my basket, and on my shoulder my\ngun, and over my head a great clumsy, ugly, goat\u2019s-skin umbrella, but\nwhich, after all, was the most necessary thing I had about me next to\nmy gun. As for my face, the colour of it was really not so mulatto-like\nas one might expect from a man not at all careful of it, and living\nwithin nine or ten degrees of the equinox. My beard I had once suffered\nto grow till it was about a quarter of a yard long; but as I had both\nscissors and razors sufficient, I had cut it pretty short, except what\ngrew on my upper lip, which I had trimmed into a large pair of\nMahometan whiskers, such as I had seen worn by some Turks at Sallee,\nfor the Moors did not wear such, though the Turks did; of these\nmoustachios, or whiskers, I will not say they were long enough to hang\nmy hat upon them, but they were of a length and shape monstrous enough,\nand such as in England would have passed for frightful.\nBut all this is by-the-bye; for as to my figure, I had so few to\nobserve me that it was of no manner of consequence, so I say no more of\nthat. In this kind of dress I went my new journey, and was out five or\nsix days. I travelled first along the sea-shore, directly to the place\nwhere I first brought my boat to an anchor to get upon the rocks; and\nhaving no boat now to take care of, I went over the land a nearer way\nto the same height that I was upon before, when, looking forward to the\npoints of the rocks which lay out, and which I was obliged to double\nwith my boat, as is said above, I was surprised to see the sea all\nsmooth and quiet\u2014no rippling, no motion, no current, any more there\nthan in other places. I was at a strange loss to understand this, and\nresolved to spend some time in the observing it, to see if nothing from\nthe sets of the tide had occasioned it; but I was presently convinced\nhow it was\u2014viz. that the tide of ebb setting from the west, and joining\nwith the current of waters from some great river on the shore, must be\nthe occasion of this current, and that, according as the wind blew more\nforcibly from the west or from the north, this current came nearer or\nwent farther from the shore; for, waiting thereabouts till evening, I\nwent up to the rock again, and then the tide of ebb being made, I\nplainly saw the current again as before, only that it ran farther off,\nbeing near half a league from the shore, whereas in my case it set\nclose upon the shore, and hurried me and my canoe along with it, which\nat another time it would not have done.\nThis observation convinced me that I had nothing to do but to observe\nthe ebbing and the flowing of the tide, and I might very easily bring\nmy boat about the island again; but when I began to think of putting it\nin practice, I had such terror upon my spirits at the remembrance of\nthe danger I had been in, that I could not think of it again with any\npatience, but, on the contrary, I took up another resolution, which was\nmore safe, though more laborious\u2014and this was, that I would build, or\nrather make, me another periagua or canoe, and so have one for one side\nof the island, and one for the other.\nYou are to understand that now I had, as I may call it, two plantations\nin the island\u2014one my little fortification or tent, with the wall about\nit, under the rock, with the cave behind me, which by this time I had\nenlarged into several apartments or caves, one within another. One of\nthese, which was the driest and largest, and had a door out beyond my\nwall or fortification\u2014that is to say, beyond where my wall joined to\nthe rock\u2014was all filled up with the large earthen pots of which I have\ngiven an account, and with fourteen or fifteen great baskets, which\nwould hold five or six bushels each, where I laid up my stores of\nprovisions, especially my corn, some in the ear, cut off short from the\nstraw, and the other rubbed out with my hand.\nAs for my wall, made, as before, with long stakes or piles, those piles\ngrew all like trees, and were by this time grown so big, and spread so\nvery much, that there was not the least appearance, to any one\u2019s view,\nof any habitation behind them.\nNear this dwelling of mine, but a little farther within the land, and\nupon lower ground, lay my two pieces of corn land, which I kept duly\ncultivated and sowed, and which duly yielded me their harvest in its\nseason; and whenever I had occasion for more corn, I had more land\nadjoining as fit as that.\nBesides this, I had my country seat, and I had now a tolerable\nplantation there also; for, first, I had my little bower, as I called\nit, which I kept in repair\u2014that is to say, I kept the hedge which\nencircled it in constantly fitted up to its usual height, the ladder\nstanding always in the inside. I kept the trees, which at first were no\nmore than stakes, but were now grown very firm and tall, always cut, so\nthat they might spread and grow thick and wild, and make the more\nagreeable shade, which they did effectually to my mind. In the middle\nof this I had my tent always standing, being a piece of a sail spread\nover poles, set up for that purpose, and which never wanted any repair\nor renewing; and under this I had made me a squab or couch with the\nskins of the creatures I had killed, and with other soft things, and a\nblanket laid on them, such as belonged to our sea-bedding, which I had\nsaved; and a great watch-coat to cover me. And here, whenever I had\noccasion to be absent from my chief seat, I took up my country\nhabitation.\nAdjoining to this I had my enclosures for my cattle, that is to say my\ngoats, and I had taken an inconceivable deal of pains to fence and\nenclose this ground. I was so anxious to see it kept entire, lest the\ngoats should break through, that I never left off till, with infinite\nlabour, I had stuck the outside of the hedge so full of small stakes,\nand so near to one another, that it was rather a pale than a hedge, and\nthere was scarce room to put a hand through between them; which\nafterwards, when those stakes grew, as they all did in the next rainy\nseason, made the enclosure strong like a wall, indeed stronger than any\nwall.\nThis will testify for me that I was not idle, and that I spared no\npains to bring to pass whatever appeared necessary for my comfortable\nsupport, for I considered the keeping up a breed of tame creatures thus\nat my hand would be a living magazine of flesh, milk, butter, and\ncheese for me as long as I lived in the place, if it were to be forty\nyears; and that keeping them in my reach depended entirely upon my\nperfecting my enclosures to such a degree that I might be sure of\nkeeping them together; which by this method, indeed, I so effectually\nsecured, that when these little stakes began to grow, I had planted\nthem so very thick that I was forced to pull some of them up again.\nIn this place also I had my grapes growing, which I principally\ndepended on for my winter store of raisins, and which I never failed to\npreserve very carefully, as the best and most agreeable dainty of my\nwhole diet; and indeed they were not only agreeable, but medicinal,\nwholesome, nourishing, and refreshing to the last degree.\nAs this was also about half-way between my other habitation and the\nplace where I had laid up my boat, I generally stayed and lay here in\nmy way thither, for I used frequently to visit my boat; and I kept all\nthings about or belonging to her in very good order. Sometimes I went\nout in her to divert myself, but no more hazardous voyages would I go,\nscarcely ever above a stone\u2019s cast or two from the shore, I was so\napprehensive of being hurried out of my knowledge again by the currents\nor winds, or any other accident. But now I come to a new scene of my\nlife.\nIt happened one day, about noon, going towards my boat, I was\nexceedingly surprised with the print of a man\u2019s naked foot on the\nshore, which was very plain to be seen on the sand. I stood like one\nthunderstruck, or as if I had seen an apparition. I listened, I looked\nround me, but I could hear nothing, nor see anything; I went up to a\nrising ground to look farther; I went up the shore and down the shore,\nbut it was all one; I could see no other impression but that one. I\nwent to it again to see if there were any more, and to observe if it\nmight not be my fancy; but there was no room for that, for there was\nexactly the print of a foot\u2014toes, heel, and every part of a foot. How\nit came thither I knew not, nor could I in the least imagine; but after\ninnumerable fluttering thoughts, like a man perfectly confused and out\nof myself, I came home to my fortification, not feeling, as we say, the\nground I went on, but terrified to the last degree, looking behind me\nat every two or three steps, mistaking every bush and tree, and\nfancying every stump at a distance to be a man. Nor is it possible to\ndescribe how many various shapes my affrighted imagination represented\nthings to me in, how many wild ideas were found every moment in my\nfancy, and what strange, unaccountable whimsies came into my thoughts\nby the way.\nWhen I came to my castle (for so I think I called it ever after this),\nI fled into it like one pursued. Whether I went over by the ladder, as\nfirst contrived, or went in at the hole in the rock, which I had called\na door, I cannot remember; no, nor could I remember the next morning,\nfor never frightened hare fled to cover, or fox to earth, with more\nterror of mind than I to this retreat.\nI slept none that night; the farther I was from the occasion of my\nfright, the greater my apprehensions were, which is something contrary\nto the nature of such things, and especially to the usual practice of\nall creatures in fear; but I was so embarrassed with my own frightful\nideas of the thing, that I formed nothing but dismal imaginations to\nmyself, even though I was now a great way off. Sometimes I fancied it\nmust be the devil, and reason joined in with me in this supposition,\nfor how should any other thing in human shape come into the place?\nWhere was the vessel that brought them? What marks were there of any\nother footstep? And how was it possible a man should come there? But\nthen, to think that Satan should take human shape upon him in such a\nplace, where there could be no manner of occasion for it, but to leave\nthe print of his foot behind him, and that even for no purpose too, for\nhe could not be sure I should see it\u2014this was an amusement the other\nway. I considered that the devil might have found out abundance of\nother ways to have terrified me than this of the single print of a\nfoot; that as I lived quite on the other side of the island, he would\nnever have been so simple as to leave a mark in a place where it was\nten thousand to one whether I should ever see it or not, and in the\nsand too, which the first surge of the sea, upon a high wind, would\nhave defaced entirely. All this seemed inconsistent with the thing\nitself and with all the notions we usually entertain of the subtlety of\nthe devil.\nAbundance of such things as these assisted to argue me out of all\napprehensions of its being the devil; and I presently concluded then\nthat it must be some more dangerous creature\u2014viz. that it must be some\nof the savages of the mainland opposite who had wandered out to sea in\ntheir canoes, and either driven by the currents or by contrary winds,\nhad made the island, and had been on shore, but were gone away again to\nsea; being as loath, perhaps, to have stayed in this desolate island as\nI would have been to have had them.\nWhile these reflections were rolling in my mind, I was very thankful in\nmy thoughts that I was so happy as not to be thereabouts at that time,\nor that they did not see my boat, by which they would have concluded\nthat some inhabitants had been in the place, and perhaps have searched\nfarther for me. Then terrible thoughts racked my imagination about\ntheir having found out my boat, and that there were people here; and\nthat, if so, I should certainly have them come again in greater numbers\nand devour me; that if it should happen that they should not find me,\nyet they would find my enclosure, destroy all my corn, and carry away\nall my flock of tame goats, and I should perish at last for mere want.\nThus my fear banished all my religious hope, all that former confidence\nin God, which was founded upon such wonderful experience as I had had\nof His goodness; as if He that had fed me by miracle hitherto could not\npreserve, by His power, the provision which He had made for me by His\ngoodness. I reproached myself with my laziness, that would not sow any\nmore corn one year than would just serve me till the next season, as if\nno accident could intervene to prevent my enjoying the crop that was\nupon the ground; and this I thought so just a reproof, that I resolved\nfor the future to have two or three years\u2019 corn beforehand; so that,\nwhatever might come, I might not perish for want of bread.\nHow strange a chequer-work of Providence is the life of man! and by\nwhat secret different springs are the affections hurried about, as\ndifferent circumstances present! To-day we love what to-morrow we hate;\nto-day we seek what to-morrow we shun; to-day we desire what to-morrow\nwe fear, nay, even tremble at the apprehensions of. This was\nexemplified in me, at this time, in the most lively manner imaginable;\nfor I, whose only affliction was that I seemed banished from human\nsociety, that I was alone, circumscribed by the boundless ocean, cut\noff from mankind, and condemned to what I call silent life; that I was\nas one whom Heaven thought not worthy to be numbered among the living,\nor to appear among the rest of His creatures; that to have seen one of\nmy own species would have seemed to me a raising me from death to life,\nand the greatest blessing that Heaven itself, next to the supreme\nblessing of salvation, could bestow; I say, that I should now tremble\nat the very apprehensions of seeing a man, and was ready to sink into\nthe ground at but the shadow or silent appearance of a man having set\nhis foot in the island.\nSuch is the uneven state of human life; and it afforded me a great many\ncurious speculations afterwards, when I had a little recovered my first\nsurprise. I considered that this was the station of life the infinitely\nwise and good providence of God had determined for me; that as I could\nnot foresee what the ends of Divine wisdom might be in all this, so I\nwas not to dispute His sovereignty; who, as I was His creature, had an\nundoubted right, by creation, to govern and dispose of me absolutely as\nHe thought fit; and who, as I was a creature that had offended Him, had\nlikewise a judicial right to condemn me to what punishment He thought\nfit; and that it was my part to submit to bear His indignation, because\nI had sinned against Him. I then reflected, that as God, who was not\nonly righteous but omnipotent, had thought fit thus to punish and\nafflict me, so He was able to deliver me: that if He did not think fit\nto do so, it was my unquestioned duty to resign myself absolutely and\nentirely to His will; and, on the other hand, it was my duty also to\nhope in Him, pray to Him, and quietly to attend to the dictates and\ndirections of His daily providence.\nThese thoughts took me up many hours, days, nay, I may say weeks and\nmonths: and one particular effect of my cogitations on this occasion I\ncannot omit. One morning early, lying in my bed, and filled with\nthoughts about my danger from the appearances of savages, I found it\ndiscomposed me very much; upon which these words of the Scripture came\ninto my thoughts, \u201cCall upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will\ndeliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.\u201d Upon this, rising cheerfully\nout of my bed, my heart was not only comforted, but I was guided and\nencouraged to pray earnestly to God for deliverance: when I had done\npraying I took up my Bible, and opening it to read, the first words\nthat presented to me were, \u201cWait on the Lord, and be of good cheer, and\nHe shall strengthen thy heart; wait, I say, on the Lord.\u201d It is\nimpossible to express the comfort this gave me. In answer, I thankfully\nlaid down the book, and was no more sad, at least on that occasion.\nIn the middle of these cogitations, apprehensions, and reflections, it\ncame into my thoughts one day that all this might be a mere chimera of\nmy own, and that this foot might be the print of my own foot, when I\ncame on shore from my boat: this cheered me up a little, too, and I\nbegan to persuade myself it was all a delusion; that it was nothing\nelse but my own foot; and why might I not come that way from the boat,\nas well as I was going that way to the boat? Again, I considered also\nthat I could by no means tell for certain where I had trod, and where I\nhad not; and that if, at last, this was only the print of my own foot,\nI had played the part of those fools who try to make stories of\nspectres and apparitions, and then are frightened at them more than\nanybody.\nNow I began to take courage, and to peep abroad again, for I had not\nstirred out of my castle for three days and nights, so that I began to\nstarve for provisions; for I had little or nothing within doors but\nsome barley-cakes and water; then I knew that my goats wanted to be\nmilked too, which usually was my evening diversion: and the poor\ncreatures were in great pain and inconvenience for want of it; and,\nindeed, it almost spoiled some of them, and almost dried up their milk.\nEncouraging myself, therefore, with the belief that this was nothing\nbut the print of one of my own feet, and that I might be truly said to\nstart at my own shadow, I began to go abroad again, and went to my\ncountry house to milk my flock: but to see with what fear I went\nforward, how often I looked behind me, how I was ready every now and\nthen to lay down my basket and run for my life, it would have made any\none have thought I was haunted with an evil conscience, or that I had\nbeen lately most terribly frightened; and so, indeed, I had. However, I\nwent down thus two or three days, and having seen nothing, I began to\nbe a little bolder, and to think there was really nothing in it but my\nown imagination; but I could not persuade myself fully of this till I\nshould go down to the shore again, and see this print of a foot, and\nmeasure it by my own, and see if there was any similitude or fitness,\nthat I might be assured it was my own foot: but when I came to the\nplace, first, it appeared evidently to me, that when I laid up my boat\nI could not possibly be on shore anywhere thereabouts; secondly, when I\ncame to measure the mark with my own foot, I found my foot not so large\nby a great deal. Both these things filled my head with new\nimaginations, and gave me the vapours again to the highest degree, so\nthat I shook with cold like one in an ague; and I went home again,\nfilled with the belief that some man or men had been on shore there;\nor, in short, that the island was inhabited, and I might be surprised\nbefore I was aware; and what course to take for my security I knew not.\nOh, what ridiculous resolutions men take when possessed with fear! It\ndeprives them of the use of those means which reason offers for their\nrelief. The first thing I proposed to myself was, to throw down my\nenclosures, and turn all my tame cattle wild into the woods, lest the\nenemy should find them, and then frequent the island in prospect of the\nsame or the like booty: then the simple thing of digging up my two\ncorn-fields, lest they should find such a grain there, and still be\nprompted to frequent the island: then to demolish my bower and tent,\nthat they might not see any vestiges of habitation, and be prompted to\nlook farther, in order to find out the persons inhabiting.\nThese were the subject of the first night\u2019s cogitations after I was\ncome home again, while the apprehensions which had so overrun my mind\nwere fresh upon me, and my head was full of vapours. Thus, fear of\ndanger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger itself, when\napparent to the eyes; and we find the burden of anxiety greater, by\nmuch, than the evil which we are anxious about: and what was worse than\nall this, I had not that relief in this trouble that from the\nresignation I used to practise I hoped to have. I looked, I thought,\nlike Saul, who complained not only that the Philistines were upon him,\nbut that God had forsaken him; for I did not now take due ways to\ncompose my mind, by crying to God in my distress, and resting upon His\nprovidence, as I had done before, for my defence and deliverance;\nwhich, if I had done, I had at least been more cheerfully supported\nunder this new surprise, and perhaps carried through it with more\nresolution.\nThis confusion of my thoughts kept me awake all night; but in the\nmorning I fell asleep; and having, by the amusement of my mind, been as\nit were tired, and my spirits exhausted, I slept very soundly, and\nwaked much better composed than I had ever been before. And now I began\nto think sedately; and, upon debate with myself, I concluded that this\nisland (which was so exceedingly pleasant, fruitful, and no farther\nfrom the mainland than as I had seen) was not so entirely abandoned as\nI might imagine; that although there were no stated inhabitants who\nlived on the spot, yet that there might sometimes come boats off from\nthe shore, who, either with design, or perhaps never but when they were\ndriven by cross winds, might come to this place; that I had lived there\nfifteen years now and had not met with the least shadow or figure of\nany people yet; and that, if at any time they should be driven here, it\nwas probable they went away again as soon as ever they could, seeing\nthey had never thought fit to fix here upon any occasion; that the most\nI could suggest any danger from was from any casual accidental landing\nof straggling people from the main, who, as it was likely, if they were\ndriven hither, were here against their wills, so they made no stay\nhere, but went off again with all possible speed; seldom staying one\nnight on shore, lest they should not have the help of the tides and\ndaylight back again; and that, therefore, I had nothing to do but to\nconsider of some safe retreat, in case I should see any savages land\nupon the spot.\nNow, I began sorely to repent that I had dug my cave so large as to\nbring a door through again, which door, as I said, came out beyond\nwhere my fortification joined to the rock: upon maturely considering\nthis, therefore, I resolved to draw me a second fortification, in the\nmanner of a semicircle, at a distance from my wall, just where I had\nplanted a double row of trees about twelve years before, of which I\nmade mention: these trees having been planted so thick before, they\nwanted but few piles to be driven between them, that they might be\nthicker and stronger, and my wall would be soon finished. So that I had\nnow a double wall; and my outer wall was thickened with pieces of\ntimber, old cables, and everything I could think of, to make it strong;\nhaving in it seven little holes, about as big as I might put my arm out\nat. In the inside of this I thickened my wall to about ten feet thick\nwith continually bringing earth out of my cave, and laying it at the\nfoot of the wall, and walking upon it; and through the seven holes I\ncontrived to plant the muskets, of which I took notice that I had got\nseven on shore out of the ship; these I planted like my cannon, and\nfitted them into frames, that held them like a carriage, so that I\ncould fire all the seven guns in two minutes\u2019 time; this wall I was\nmany a weary month in finishing, and yet never thought myself safe till\nit was done.\nWhen this was done I stuck all the ground without my wall, for a great\nlength every way, as full with stakes or sticks of the osier-like wood,\nwhich I found so apt to grow, as they could well stand; insomuch that I\nbelieve I might set in near twenty thousand of them, leaving a pretty\nlarge space between them and my wall, that I might have room to see an\nenemy, and they might have no shelter from the young trees, if they\nattempted to approach my outer wall.\nThus in two years\u2019 time I had a thick grove; and in five or six years\u2019\ntime I had a wood before my dwelling, growing so monstrously thick and\nstrong that it was indeed perfectly impassable: and no men, of what\nkind soever, could ever imagine that there was anything beyond it, much\nless a habitation. As for the way which I proposed to myself to go in\nand out (for I left no avenue), it was by setting two ladders, one to a\npart of the rock which was low, and then broke in, and left room to\nplace another ladder upon that; so when the two ladders were taken down\nno man living could come down to me without doing himself mischief; and\nif they had come down, they were still on the outside of my outer wall.\nThus I took all the measures human prudence could suggest for my own\npreservation; and it will be seen at length that they were not\naltogether without just reason; though I foresaw nothing at that time\nmore than my mere fear suggested to me.\nCHAPTER XII. A CAVE RETREAT\nWhile this was doing, I was not altogether careless of my other\naffairs; for I had a great concern upon me for my little herd of goats:\nthey were not only a ready supply to me on every occasion, and began to\nbe sufficient for me, without the expense of powder and shot, but also\nwithout the fatigue of hunting after the wild ones; and I was loath to\nlose the advantage of them, and to have them all to nurse up over\nagain.\nFor this purpose, after long consideration, I could think of but two\nways to preserve them: one was, to find another convenient place to dig\na cave underground, and to drive them into it every night; and the\nother was to enclose two or three little bits of land, remote from one\nanother, and as much concealed as I could, where I might keep about\nhalf-a-dozen young goats in each place; so that if any disaster\nhappened to the flock in general, I might be able to raise them again\nwith little trouble and time: and this though it would require a good\ndeal of time and labour, I thought was the most rational design.\nAccordingly, I spent some time to find out the most retired parts of\nthe island; and I pitched upon one, which was as private, indeed, as my\nheart could wish: it was a little damp piece of ground in the middle of\nthe hollow and thick woods, where, as is observed, I almost lost myself\nonce before, endeavouring to come back that way from the eastern part\nof the island. Here I found a clear piece of land, near three acres, so\nsurrounded with woods that it was almost an enclosure by nature; at\nleast, it did not want near so much labour to make it so as the other\npiece of ground I had worked so hard at.\nI immediately went to work with this piece of ground; and in less than\na month\u2019s time I had so fenced it round that my flock, or herd, call it\nwhich you please, which were not so wild now as at first they might be\nsupposed to be, were well enough secured in it: so, without any further\ndelay, I removed ten young she-goats and two he-goats to this piece,\nand when they were there I continued to perfect the fence till I had\nmade it as secure as the other; which, however, I did at more leisure,\nand it took me up more time by a great deal. All this labour I was at\nthe expense of, purely from my apprehensions on account of the print of\na man\u2019s foot; for as yet I had never seen any human creature come near\nthe island; and I had now lived two years under this uneasiness, which,\nindeed, made my life much less comfortable than it was before, as may\nbe well imagined by any who know what it is to live in the constant\nsnare of the fear of man. And this I must observe, with grief, too,\nthat the discomposure of my mind had great impression also upon the\nreligious part of my thoughts; for the dread and terror of falling into\nthe hands of savages and cannibals lay so upon my spirits, that I\nseldom found myself in a due temper for application to my Maker; at\nleast, not with the sedate calmness and resignation of soul which I was\nwont to do: I rather prayed to God as under great affliction and\npressure of mind, surrounded with danger, and in expectation every\nnight of being murdered and devoured before morning; and I must\ntestify, from my experience, that a temper of peace, thankfulness,\nlove, and affection, is much the more proper frame for prayer than that\nof terror and discomposure: and that under the dread of mischief\nimpending, a man is no more fit for a comforting performance of the\nduty of praying to God than he is for a repentance on a sick-bed; for\nthese discomposures affect the mind, as the others do the body; and the\ndiscomposure of the mind must necessarily be as great a disability as\nthat of the body, and much greater; praying to God being properly an\nact of the mind, not of the body.\nBut to go on. After I had thus secured one part of my little living\nstock, I went about the whole island, searching for another private\nplace to make such another deposit; when, wandering more to the west\npoint of the island than I had ever done yet, and looking out to sea, I\nthought I saw a boat upon the sea, at a great distance. I had found a\nperspective glass or two in one of the seamen\u2019s chests, which I saved\nout of our ship, but I had it not about me; and this was so remote that\nI could not tell what to make of it, though I looked at it till my eyes\nwere not able to hold to look any longer; whether it was a boat or not\nI do not know, but as I descended from the hill I could see no more of\nit, so I gave it over; only I resolved to go no more out without a\nperspective glass in my pocket. When I was come down the hill to the\nend of the island, where, indeed, I had never been before, I was\npresently convinced that the seeing the print of a man\u2019s foot was not\nsuch a strange thing in the island as I imagined: and but that it was a\nspecial providence that I was cast upon the side of the island where\nthe savages never came, I should easily have known that nothing was\nmore frequent than for the canoes from the main, when they happened to\nbe a little too far out at sea, to shoot over to that side of the\nisland for harbour: likewise, as they often met and fought in their\ncanoes, the victors, having taken any prisoners, would bring them over\nto this shore, where, according to their dreadful customs, being all\ncannibals, they would kill and eat them; of which hereafter.\nWhen I was come down the hill to the shore, as I said above, being the\nSW. point of the island, I was perfectly confounded and amazed; nor is\nit possible for me to express the horror of my mind at seeing the shore\nspread with skulls, hands, feet, and other bones of human bodies; and\nparticularly I observed a place where there had been a fire made, and a\ncircle dug in the earth, like a cockpit, where I supposed the savage\nwretches had sat down to their human feastings upon the bodies of their\nfellow-creatures.\nI was so astonished with the sight of these things, that I entertained\nno notions of any danger to myself from it for a long while: all my\napprehensions were buried in the thoughts of such a pitch of inhuman,\nhellish brutality, and the horror of the degeneracy of human nature,\nwhich, though I had heard of it often, yet I never had so near a view\nof before; in short, I turned away my face from the horrid spectacle;\nmy stomach grew sick, and I was just at the point of fainting, when\nnature discharged the disorder from my stomach; and having vomited with\nuncommon violence, I was a little relieved, but could not bear to stay\nin the place a moment; so I got up the hill again with all the speed I\ncould, and walked on towards my own habitation.\nWhen I came a little out of that part of the island I stood still\nawhile, as amazed, and then, recovering myself, I looked up with the\nutmost affection of my soul, and, with a flood of tears in my eyes,\ngave God thanks, that had cast my first lot in a part of the world\nwhere I was distinguished from such dreadful creatures as these; and\nthat, though I had esteemed my present condition very miserable, had\nyet given me so many comforts in it that I had still more to give\nthanks for than to complain of: and this, above all, that I had, even\nin this miserable condition, been comforted with the knowledge of\nHimself, and the hope of His blessing: which was a felicity more than\nsufficiently equivalent to all the misery which I had suffered, or\ncould suffer.\nIn this frame of thankfulness I went home to my castle, and began to be\nmuch easier now, as to the safety of my circumstances, than ever I was\nbefore: for I observed that these wretches never came to this island in\nsearch of what they could get; perhaps not seeking, not wanting, or not\nexpecting anything here; and having often, no doubt, been up the\ncovered, woody part of it without finding anything to their purpose. I\nknew I had been here now almost eighteen years, and never saw the least\nfootsteps of human creature there before; and I might be eighteen years\nmore as entirely concealed as I was now, if I did not discover myself\nto them, which I had no manner of occasion to do; it being my only\nbusiness to keep myself entirely concealed where I was, unless I found\na better sort of creatures than cannibals to make myself known to. Yet\nI entertained such an abhorrence of the savage wretches that I have\nbeen speaking of, and of the wretched, inhuman custom of their\ndevouring and eating one another up, that I continued pensive and sad,\nand kept close within my own circle for almost two years after this:\nwhen I say my own circle, I mean by it my three plantations\u2014viz. my\ncastle, my country seat (which I called my bower), and my enclosure in\nthe woods: nor did I look after this for any other use than an\nenclosure for my goats; for the aversion which nature gave me to these\nhellish wretches was such, that I was as fearful of seeing them as of\nseeing the devil himself. I did not so much as go to look after my boat\nall this time, but began rather to think of making another; for I could\nnot think of ever making any more attempts to bring the other boat\nround the island to me, lest I should meet with some of these creatures\nat sea; in which case, if I had happened to have fallen into their\nhands, I knew what would have been my lot.\nTime, however, and the satisfaction I had that I was in no danger of\nbeing discovered by these people, began to wear off my uneasiness about\nthem; and I began to live just in the same composed manner as before,\nonly with this difference, that I used more caution, and kept my eyes\nmore about me than I did before, lest I should happen to be seen by any\nof them; and particularly, I was more cautious of firing my gun, lest\nany of them, being on the island, should happen to hear it. It was,\ntherefore, a very good providence to me that I had furnished myself\nwith a tame breed of goats, and that I had no need to hunt any more\nabout the woods, or shoot at them; and if I did catch any of them after\nthis, it was by traps and snares, as I had done before; so that for two\nyears after this I believe I never fired my gun once off, though I\nnever went out without it; and what was more, as I had saved three\npistols out of the ship, I always carried them out with me, or at least\ntwo of them, sticking them in my goat-skin belt. I also furbished up\none of the great cutlasses that I had out of the ship, and made me a\nbelt to hang it on also; so that I was now a most formidable fellow to\nlook at when I went abroad, if you add to the former description of\nmyself the particular of two pistols, and a broadsword hanging at my\nside in a belt, but without a scabbard.\nThings going on thus, as I have said, for some time, I seemed,\nexcepting these cautions, to be reduced to my former calm, sedate way\nof living. All these things tended to show me more and more how far my\ncondition was from being miserable, compared to some others; nay, to\nmany other particulars of life which it might have pleased God to have\nmade my lot. It put me upon reflecting how little repining there would\nbe among mankind at any condition of life if people would rather\ncompare their condition with those that were worse, in order to be\nthankful, than be always comparing them with those which are better, to\nassist their murmurings and complainings.\nAs in my present condition there were not really many things which I\nwanted, so indeed I thought that the frights I had been in about these\nsavage wretches, and the concern I had been in for my own preservation,\nhad taken off the edge of my invention, for my own conveniences; and I\nhad dropped a good design, which I had once bent my thoughts upon, and\nthat was to try if I could not make some of my barley into malt, and\nthen try to brew myself some beer. This was really a whimsical thought,\nand I reproved myself often for the simplicity of it: for I presently\nsaw there would be the want of several things necessary to the making\nmy beer that it would be impossible for me to supply; as, first, casks\nto preserve it in, which was a thing that, as I have observed already,\nI could never compass: no, though I spent not only many days, but\nweeks, nay months, in attempting it, but to no purpose. In the next\nplace, I had no hops to make it keep, no yeast to make it work, no\ncopper or kettle to make it boil; and yet with all these things\nwanting, I verily believe, had not the frights and terrors I was in\nabout the savages intervened, I had undertaken it, and perhaps brought\nit to pass too; for I seldom gave anything over without accomplishing\nit, when once I had it in my head to began it. But my invention now ran\nquite another way; for night and day I could think of nothing but how I\nmight destroy some of the monsters in their cruel, bloody\nentertainment, and if possible save the victim they should bring hither\nto destroy. It would take up a larger volume than this whole work is\nintended to be to set down all the contrivances I hatched, or rather\nbrooded upon, in my thoughts, for the destroying these creatures, or at\nleast frightening them so as to prevent their coming hither any more:\nbut all this was abortive; nothing could be possible to take effect,\nunless I was to be there to do it myself: and what could one man do\namong them, when perhaps there might be twenty or thirty of them\ntogether with their darts, or their bows and arrows, with which they\ncould shoot as true to a mark as I could with my gun?\nSometimes I thought of digging a hole under the place where they made\ntheir fire, and putting in five or six pounds of gunpowder, which, when\nthey kindled their fire, would consequently take fire, and blow up all\nthat was near it: but as, in the first place, I should be unwilling to\nwaste so much powder upon them, my store being now within the quantity\nof one barrel, so neither could I be sure of its going off at any\ncertain time, when it might surprise them; and, at best, that it would\ndo little more than just blow the fire about their ears and fright\nthem, but not sufficient to make them forsake the place: so I laid it\naside; and then proposed that I would place myself in ambush in some\nconvenient place, with my three guns all double-loaded, and in the\nmiddle of their bloody ceremony let fly at them, when I should be sure\nto kill or wound perhaps two or three at every shot; and then falling\nin upon them with my three pistols and my sword, I made no doubt but\nthat, if there were twenty, I should kill them all. This fancy pleased\nmy thoughts for some weeks, and I was so full of it that I often\ndreamed of it, and, sometimes, that I was just going to let fly at them\nin my sleep. I went so far with it in my imagination that I employed\nmyself several days to find out proper places to put myself in\nambuscade, as I said, to watch for them, and I went frequently to the\nplace itself, which was now grown more familiar to me; but while my\nmind was thus filled with thoughts of revenge and a bloody putting\ntwenty or thirty of them to the sword, as I may call it, the horror I\nhad at the place, and at the signals of the barbarous wretches\ndevouring one another, abetted my malice. Well, at length I found a\nplace in the side of the hill where I was satisfied I might securely\nwait till I saw any of their boats coming; and might then, even before\nthey would be ready to come on shore, convey myself unseen into some\nthickets of trees, in one of which there was a hollow large enough to\nconceal me entirely; and there I might sit and observe all their bloody\ndoings, and take my full aim at their heads, when they were so close\ntogether as that it would be next to impossible that I should miss my\nshot, or that I could fail wounding three or four of them at the first\nshot. In this place, then, I resolved to fulfil my design; and\naccordingly I prepared two muskets and my ordinary fowling-piece. The\ntwo muskets I loaded with a brace of slugs each, and four or five\nsmaller bullets, about the size of pistol bullets; and the\nfowling-piece I loaded with near a handful of swan-shot of the largest\nsize; I also loaded my pistols with about four bullets each; and, in\nthis posture, well provided with ammunition for a second and third\ncharge, I prepared myself for my expedition.\nAfter I had thus laid the scheme of my design, and in my imagination\nput it in practice, I continually made my tour every morning to the top\nof the hill, which was from my castle, as I called it, about three\nmiles or more, to see if I could observe any boats upon the sea, coming\nnear the island, or standing over towards it; but I began to tire of\nthis hard duty, after I had for two or three months constantly kept my\nwatch, but came always back without any discovery; there having not, in\nall that time, been the least appearance, not only on or near the\nshore, but on the whole ocean, so far as my eye or glass could reach\nevery way.\nAs long as I kept my daily tour to the hill, to look out, so long also\nI kept up the vigour of my design, and my spirits seemed to be all the\nwhile in a suitable frame for so outrageous an execution as the killing\ntwenty or thirty naked savages, for an offence which I had not at all\nentered into any discussion of in my thoughts, any farther than my\npassions were at first fired by the horror I conceived at the unnatural\ncustom of the people of that country, who, it seems, had been suffered\nby Providence, in His wise disposition of the world, to have no other\nguide than that of their own abominable and vitiated passions; and\nconsequently were left, and perhaps had been so for some ages, to act\nsuch horrid things, and receive such dreadful customs, as nothing but\nnature, entirely abandoned by Heaven, and actuated by some hellish\ndegeneracy, could have run them into. But now, when, as I have said, I\nbegan to be weary of the fruitless excursion which I had made so long\nand so far every morning in vain, so my opinion of the action itself\nbegan to alter; and I began, with cooler and calmer thoughts, to\nconsider what I was going to engage in; what authority or call I had to\npretend to be judge and executioner upon these men as criminals, whom\nHeaven had thought fit for so many ages to suffer unpunished to go on,\nand to be as it were the executioners of His judgments one upon\nanother; how far these people were offenders against me, and what right\nI had to engage in the quarrel of that blood which they shed\npromiscuously upon one another. I debated this very often with myself\nthus: \u201cHow do I know what God Himself judges in this particular case?\nIt is certain these people do not commit this as a crime; it is not\nagainst their own consciences reproving, or their light reproaching\nthem; they do not know it to be an offence, and then commit it in\ndefiance of divine justice, as we do in almost all the sins we commit.\nThey think it no more a crime to kill a captive taken in war than we do\nto kill an ox; or to eat human flesh than we do to eat mutton.\u201d\nWhen I considered this a little, it followed necessarily that I was\ncertainly in the wrong; that these people were not murderers, in the\nsense that I had before condemned them in my thoughts, any more than\nthose Christians were murderers who often put to death the prisoners\ntaken in battle; or more frequently, upon many occasions, put whole\ntroops of men to the sword, without giving quarter, though they threw\ndown their arms and submitted. In the next place, it occurred to me\nthat although the usage they gave one another was thus brutish and\ninhuman, yet it was really nothing to me: these people had done me no\ninjury: that if they attempted, or I saw it necessary, for my immediate\npreservation, to fall upon them, something might be said for it: but\nthat I was yet out of their power, and they really had no knowledge of\nme, and consequently no design upon me; and therefore it could not be\njust for me to fall upon them; that this would justify the conduct of\nthe Spaniards in all their barbarities practised in America, where they\ndestroyed millions of these people; who, however they were idolators\nand barbarians, and had several bloody and barbarous rites in their\ncustoms, such as sacrificing human bodies to their idols, were yet, as\nto the Spaniards, very innocent people; and that the rooting them out\nof the country is spoken of with the utmost abhorrence and detestation\nby even the Spaniards themselves at this time, and by all other\nChristian nations of Europe, as a mere butchery, a bloody and unnatural\npiece of cruelty, unjustifiable either to God or man; and for which the\nvery name of a Spaniard is reckoned to be frightful and terrible, to\nall people of humanity or of Christian compassion; as if the kingdom of\nSpain were particularly eminent for the produce of a race of men who\nwere without principles of tenderness, or the common bowels of pity to\nthe miserable, which is reckoned to be a mark of generous temper in the\nmind.\nThese considerations really put me to a pause, and to a kind of a full\nstop; and I began by little and little to be off my design, and to\nconclude I had taken wrong measures in my resolution to attack the\nsavages; and that it was not my business to meddle with them, unless\nthey first attacked me; and this it was my business, if possible, to\nprevent: but that, if I were discovered and attacked by them, I knew my\nduty. On the other hand, I argued with myself that this really was the\nway not to deliver myself, but entirely to ruin and destroy myself; for\nunless I was sure to kill every one that not only should be on shore at\nthat time, but that should ever come on shore afterwards, if but one of\nthem escaped to tell their country-people what had happened, they would\ncome over again by thousands to revenge the death of their fellows, and\nI should only bring upon myself a certain destruction, which, at\npresent, I had no manner of occasion for. Upon the whole, I concluded\nthat I ought, neither in principle nor in policy, one way or other, to\nconcern myself in this affair: that my business was, by all possible\nmeans to conceal myself from them, and not to leave the least sign for\nthem to guess by that there were any living creatures upon the island\u2014I\nmean of human shape. Religion joined in with this prudential\nresolution; and I was convinced now, many ways, that I was perfectly\nout of my duty when I was laying all my bloody schemes for the\ndestruction of innocent creatures\u2014I mean innocent as to me. As to the\ncrimes they were guilty of towards one another, I had nothing to do\nwith them; they were national, and I ought to leave them to the justice\nof God, who is the Governor of nations, and knows how, by national\npunishments, to make a just retribution for national offences, and to\nbring public judgments upon those who offend in a public manner, by\nsuch ways as best please Him. This appeared so clear to me now, that\nnothing was a greater satisfaction to me than that I had not been\nsuffered to do a thing which I now saw so much reason to believe would\nhave been no less a sin than that of wilful murder if I had committed\nit; and I gave most humble thanks on my knees to God, that He had thus\ndelivered me from blood-guiltiness; beseeching Him to grant me the\nprotection of His providence, that I might not fall into the hands of\nthe barbarians, or that I might not lay my hands upon them, unless I\nhad a more clear call from Heaven to do it, in defence of my own life.\nIn this disposition I continued for near a year after this; and so far\nwas I from desiring an occasion for falling upon these wretches, that\nin all that time I never once went up the hill to see whether there\nwere any of them in sight, or to know whether any of them had been on\nshore there or not, that I might not be tempted to renew any of my\ncontrivances against them, or be provoked by any advantage that might\npresent itself to fall upon them; only this I did: I went and removed\nmy boat, which I had on the other side of the island, and carried it\ndown to the east end of the whole island, where I ran it into a little\ncove, which I found under some high rocks, and where I knew, by reason\nof the currents, the savages durst not, at least would not, come with\ntheir boats upon any account whatever. With my boat I carried away\neverything that I had left there belonging to her, though not necessary\nfor the bare going thither\u2014viz. a mast and sail which I had made for\nher, and a thing like an anchor, but which, indeed, could not be called\neither anchor or grapnel; however, it was the best I could make of its\nkind: all these I removed, that there might not be the least shadow for\ndiscovery, or appearance of any boat, or of any human habitation upon\nthe island. Besides this, I kept myself, as I said, more retired than\never, and seldom went from my cell except upon my constant employment,\nto milk my she-goats, and manage my little flock in the wood, which, as\nit was quite on the other part of the island, was out of danger; for\ncertain, it is that these savage people, who sometimes haunted this\nisland, never came with any thoughts of finding anything here, and\nconsequently never wandered off from the coast, and I doubt not but\nthey might have been several times on shore after my apprehensions of\nthem had made me cautious, as well as before. Indeed, I looked back\nwith some horror upon the thoughts of what my condition would have been\nif I had chopped upon them and been discovered before that; when, naked\nand unarmed, except with one gun, and that loaded often only with small\nshot, I walked everywhere, peeping and peering about the island, to see\nwhat I could get; what a surprise should I have been in if, when I\ndiscovered the print of a man\u2019s foot, I had, instead of that, seen\nfifteen or twenty savages, and found them pursuing me, and by the\nswiftness of their running no possibility of my escaping them! The\nthoughts of this sometimes sank my very soul within me, and distressed\nmy mind so much that I could not soon recover it, to think what I\nshould have done, and how I should not only have been unable to resist\nthem, but even should not have had presence of mind enough to do what I\nmight have done; much less what now, after so much consideration and\npreparation, I might be able to do. Indeed, after serious thinking of\nthese things, I would be melancholy, and sometimes it would last a\ngreat while; but I resolved it all at last into thankfulness to that\nProvidence which had delivered me from so many unseen dangers, and had\nkept me from those mischiefs which I could have no way been the agent\nin delivering myself from, because I had not the least notion of any\nsuch thing depending, or the least supposition of its being possible.\nThis renewed a contemplation which often had come into my thoughts in\nformer times, when first I began to see the merciful dispositions of\nHeaven, in the dangers we run through in this life; how wonderfully we\nare delivered when we know nothing of it; how, when we are in a\nquandary as we call it, a doubt or hesitation whether to go this way or\nthat way, a secret hint shall direct us this way, when we intended to\ngo that way: nay, when sense, our own inclination, and perhaps business\nhas called us to go the other way, yet a strange impression upon the\nmind, from we know not what springs, and by we know not what power,\nshall overrule us to go this way; and it shall afterwards appear that\nhad we gone that way, which we should have gone, and even to our\nimagination ought to have gone, we should have been ruined and lost.\nUpon these and many like reflections I afterwards made it a certain\nrule with me, that whenever I found those secret hints or pressings of\nmind to doing or not doing anything that presented, or going this way\nor that way, I never failed to obey the secret dictate; though I knew\nno other reason for it than such a pressure or such a hint hung upon my\nmind. I could give many examples of the success of this conduct in the\ncourse of my life, but more especially in the latter part of my\ninhabiting this unhappy island; besides many occasions which it is very\nlikely I might have taken notice of, if I had seen with the same eyes\nthen that I see with now. But it is never too late to be wise; and I\ncannot but advise all considering men, whose lives are attended with\nsuch extraordinary incidents as mine, or even though not so\nextraordinary, not to slight such secret intimations of Providence, let\nthem come from what invisible intelligence they will. That I shall not\ndiscuss, and perhaps cannot account for; but certainly they are a proof\nof the converse of spirits, and a secret communication between those\nembodied and those unembodied, and such a proof as can never be\nwithstood; of which I shall have occasion to give some remarkable\ninstances in the remainder of my solitary residence in this dismal\nplace.\nI believe the reader of this will not think it strange if I confess\nthat these anxieties, these constant dangers I lived in, and the\nconcern that was now upon me, put an end to all invention, and to all\nthe contrivances that I had laid for my future accommodations and\nconveniences. I had the care of my safety more now upon my hands than\nthat of my food. I cared not to drive a nail, or chop a stick of wood\nnow, for fear the noise I might make should be heard: much less would I\nfire a gun for the same reason: and above all I was intolerably uneasy\nat making any fire, lest the smoke, which is visible at a great\ndistance in the day, should betray me. For this reason, I removed that\npart of my business which required fire, such as burning of pots and\npipes, &c., into my new apartment in the woods; where, after I had been\nsome time, I found, to my unspeakable consolation, a mere natural cave\nin the earth, which went in a vast way, and where, I daresay, no\nsavage, had he been at the mouth of it, would be so hardy as to venture\nin; nor, indeed, would any man else, but one who, like me, wanted\nnothing so much as a safe retreat.\nThe mouth of this hollow was at the bottom of a great rock, where, by\nmere accident (I would say, if I did not see abundant reason to ascribe\nall such things now to Providence), I was cutting down some thick\nbranches of trees to make charcoal; and before I go on I must observe\nthe reason of my making this charcoal, which was this\u2014I was afraid of\nmaking a smoke about my habitation, as I said before; and yet I could\nnot live there without baking my bread, cooking my meat, &c.; so I\ncontrived to burn some wood here, as I had seen done in England, under\nturf, till it became chark or dry coal: and then putting the fire out,\nI preserved the coal to carry home, and perform the other services for\nwhich fire was wanting, without danger of smoke. But this is\nby-the-bye. While I was cutting down some wood here, I perceived that,\nbehind a very thick branch of low brushwood or underwood, there was a\nkind of hollow place: I was curious to look in it; and getting with\ndifficulty into the mouth of it, I found it was pretty large, that is\nto say, sufficient for me to stand upright in it, and perhaps another\nwith me: but I must confess to you that I made more haste out than I\ndid in, when looking farther into the place, and which was perfectly\ndark, I saw two broad shining eyes of some creature, whether devil or\nman I knew not, which twinkled like two stars; the dim light from the\ncave\u2019s mouth shining directly in, and making the reflection. However,\nafter some pause I recovered myself, and began to call myself a\nthousand fools, and to think that he that was afraid to see the devil\nwas not fit to live twenty years in an island all alone; and that I\nmight well think there was nothing in this cave that was more frightful\nthan myself. Upon this, plucking up my courage, I took up a firebrand,\nand in I rushed again, with the stick flaming in my hand: I had not\ngone three steps in before I was almost as frightened as before; for I\nheard a very loud sigh, like that of a man in some pain, and it was\nfollowed by a broken noise, as of words half expressed, and then a deep\nsigh again. I stepped back, and was indeed struck with such a surprise\nthat it put me into a cold sweat, and if I had had a hat on my head, I\nwill not answer for it that my hair might not have lifted it off. But\nstill plucking up my spirits as well as I could, and encouraging myself\na little with considering that the power and presence of God was\neverywhere, and was able to protect me, I stepped forward again, and by\nthe light of the firebrand, holding it up a little over my head, I saw\nlying on the ground a monstrous, frightful old he-goat, just making his\nwill, as we say, and gasping for life, and, dying, indeed, of mere old\nage. I stirred him a little to see if I could get him out, and he\nessayed to get up, but was not able to raise himself; and I thought\nwith myself he might even lie there\u2014for if he had frightened me, so he\nwould certainly fright any of the savages, if any of them should be so\nhardy as to come in there while he had any life in him.\nI was now recovered from my surprise, and began to look round me, when\nI found the cave was but very small\u2014that is to say, it might be about\ntwelve feet over, but in no manner of shape, neither round nor square,\nno hands having ever been employed in making it but those of mere\nNature. I observed also that there was a place at the farther side of\nit that went in further, but was so low that it required me to creep\nupon my hands and knees to go into it, and whither it went I knew not;\nso, having no candle, I gave it over for that time, but resolved to go\nagain the next day provided with candles and a tinder-box, which I had\nmade of the lock of one of the muskets, with some wildfire in the pan.\nAccordingly, the next day I came provided with six large candles of my\nown making (for I made very good candles now of goat\u2019s tallow, but was\nhard set for candle-wick, using sometimes rags or rope-yarn, and\nsometimes the dried rind of a weed like nettles); and going into this\nlow place I was obliged to creep upon all-fours as I have said, almost\nten yards\u2014which, by the way, I thought was a venture bold enough,\nconsidering that I knew not how far it might go, nor what was beyond\nit. When I had got through the strait, I found the roof rose higher up,\nI believe near twenty feet; but never was such a glorious sight seen in\nthe island, I daresay, as it was to look round the sides and roof of\nthis vault or cave\u2014the wall reflected a hundred thousand lights to me\nfrom my two candles. What it was in the rock\u2014whether diamonds or any\nother precious stones, or gold which I rather supposed it to be\u2014I knew\nnot. The place I was in was a most delightful cavity, or grotto, though\nperfectly dark; the floor was dry and level, and had a sort of a small\nloose gravel upon it, so that there was no nauseous or venomous\ncreature to be seen, neither was there any damp or wet on the sides or\nroof. The only difficulty in it was the entrance\u2014which, however, as it\nwas a place of security, and such a retreat as I wanted; I thought was\na convenience; so that I was really rejoiced at the discovery, and\nresolved, without any delay, to bring some of those things which I was\nmost anxious about to this place: particularly, I resolved to bring\nhither my magazine of powder, and all my spare arms\u2014viz. two\nfowling-pieces\u2014for I had three in all\u2014and three muskets\u2014for of them I\nhad eight in all; so I kept in my castle only five, which stood ready\nmounted like pieces of cannon on my outmost fence, and were ready also\nto take out upon any expedition. Upon this occasion of removing my\nammunition I happened to open the barrel of powder which I took up out\nof the sea, and which had been wet, and I found that the water had\npenetrated about three or four inches into the powder on every side,\nwhich caking and growing hard, had preserved the inside like a kernel\nin the shell, so that I had near sixty pounds of very good powder in\nthe centre of the cask. This was a very agreeable discovery to me at\nthat time; so I carried all away thither, never keeping above two or\nthree pounds of powder with me in my castle, for fear of a surprise of\nany kind; I also carried thither all the lead I had left for bullets.\nI fancied myself now like one of the ancient giants who were said to\nlive in caves and holes in the rocks, where none could come at them;\nfor I persuaded myself, while I was here, that if five hundred savages\nwere to hunt me, they could never find me out\u2014or if they did, they\nwould not venture to attack me here. The old goat whom I found expiring\ndied in the mouth of the cave the next day after I made this discovery;\nand I found it much easier to dig a great hole there, and throw him in\nand cover him with earth, than to drag him out; so I interred him\nthere, to prevent offence to my nose.\nCHAPTER XIII. WRECK OF A SPANISH SHIP\nI was now in the twenty-third year of my residence in this island, and\nwas so naturalised to the place and the manner of living, that, could I\nbut have enjoyed the certainty that no savages would come to the place\nto disturb me, I could have been content to have capitulated for\nspending the rest of my time there, even to the last moment, till I had\nlaid me down and died, like the old goat in the cave. I had also\narrived to some little diversions and amusements, which made the time\npass a great deal more pleasantly with me than it did before\u2014first, I\nhad taught my Poll, as I noted before, to speak; and he did it so\nfamiliarly, and talked so articulately and plain, that it was very\npleasant to me; and he lived with me no less than six-and-twenty years.\nHow long he might have lived afterwards I know not, though I know they\nhave a notion in the Brazils that they live a hundred years. My dog was\na pleasant and loving companion to me for no less than sixteen years of\nmy time, and then died of mere old age. As for my cats, they\nmultiplied, as I have observed, to that degree that I was obliged to\nshoot several of them at first, to keep them from devouring me and all\nI had; but at length, when the two old ones I brought with me were\ngone, and after some time continually driving them from me, and letting\nthem have no provision with me, they all ran wild into the woods,\nexcept two or three favourites, which I kept tame, and whose young,\nwhen they had any, I always drowned; and these were part of my family.\nBesides these I always kept two or three household kids about me, whom\nI taught to feed out of my hand; and I had two more parrots, which\ntalked pretty well, and would all call \u201cRobin Crusoe,\u201d but none like my\nfirst; nor, indeed, did I take the pains with any of them that I had\ndone with him. I had also several tame sea-fowls, whose name I knew\nnot, that I caught upon the shore, and cut their wings; and the little\nstakes which I had planted before my castle-wall being now grown up to\na good thick grove, these fowls all lived among these low trees, and\nbred there, which was very agreeable to me; so that, as I said above, I\nbegan to be very well contented with the life I led, if I could have\nbeen secured from the dread of the savages. But it was otherwise\ndirected; and it may not be amiss for all people who shall meet with my\nstory to make this just observation from it: How frequently, in the\ncourse of our lives, the evil which in itself we seek most to shun, and\nwhich, when we are fallen into, is the most dreadful to us, is\noftentimes the very means or door of our deliverance, by which alone we\ncan be raised again from the affliction we are fallen into. I could\ngive many examples of this in the course of my unaccountable life; but\nin nothing was it more particularly remarkable than in the\ncircumstances of my last years of solitary residence in this island.\nIt was now the month of December, as I said above, in my twenty-third\nyear; and this, being the southern solstice (for winter I cannot call\nit), was the particular time of my harvest, and required me to be\npretty much abroad in the fields, when, going out early in the morning,\neven before it was thorough daylight, I was surprised with seeing a\nlight of some fire upon the shore, at a distance from me of about two\nmiles, toward that part of the island where I had observed some savages\nhad been, as before, and not on the other side; but, to my great\naffliction, it was on my side of the island.\nI was indeed terribly surprised at the sight, and stopped short within\nmy grove, not daring to go out, lest I might be surprised; and yet I\nhad no more peace within, from the apprehensions I had that if these\nsavages, in rambling over the island, should find my corn standing or\ncut, or any of my works or improvements, they would immediately\nconclude that there were people in the place, and would then never rest\ntill they had found me out. In this extremity I went back directly to\nmy castle, pulled up the ladder after me, and made all things without\nlook as wild and natural as I could.\nThen I prepared myself within, putting myself in a posture of defence.\nI loaded all my cannon, as I called them\u2014that is to say, my muskets,\nwhich were mounted upon my new fortification\u2014and all my pistols, and\nresolved to defend myself to the last gasp\u2014not forgetting seriously to\ncommend myself to the Divine protection, and earnestly to pray to God\nto deliver me out of the hands of the barbarians. I continued in this\nposture about two hours, and began to be impatient for intelligence\nabroad, for I had no spies to send out. After sitting a while longer,\nand musing what I should do in this case, I was not able to bear\nsitting in ignorance longer; so setting up my ladder to the side of the\nhill, where there was a flat place, as I observed before, and then\npulling the ladder after me, I set it up again and mounted the top of\nthe hill, and pulling out my perspective glass, which I had taken on\npurpose, I laid me down flat on my belly on the ground, and began to\nlook for the place. I presently found there were no less than nine\nnaked savages sitting round a small fire they had made, not to warm\nthem, for they had no need of that, the weather being extremely hot,\nbut, as I supposed, to dress some of their barbarous diet of human\nflesh which they had brought with them, whether alive or dead I could\nnot tell.\nThey had two canoes with them, which they had hauled up upon the shore;\nand as it was then ebb of tide, they seemed to me to wait for the\nreturn of the flood to go away again. It is not easy to imagine what\nconfusion this sight put me into, especially seeing them come on my\nside of the island, and so near to me; but when I considered their\ncoming must be always with the current of the ebb, I began afterwards\nto be more sedate in my mind, being satisfied that I might go abroad\nwith safety all the time of the flood of tide, if they were not on\nshore before; and having made this observation, I went abroad about my\nharvest work with the more composure.\nAs I expected, so it proved; for as soon as the tide made to the\nwestward I saw them all take boat and row (or paddle as we call it)\naway. I should have observed, that for an hour or more before they went\noff they were dancing, and I could easily discern their postures and\ngestures by my glass. I could not perceive, by my nicest observation,\nbut that they were stark naked, and had not the least covering upon\nthem; but whether they were men or women I could not distinguish.\nAs soon as I saw them shipped and gone, I took two guns upon my\nshoulders, and two pistols in my girdle, and my great sword by my side\nwithout a scabbard, and with all the speed I was able to make went away\nto the hill where I had discovered the first appearance of all; and as\nsoon as I got thither, which was not in less than two hours (for I\ncould not go quickly, being so loaded with arms as I was), I perceived\nthere had been three canoes more of the savages at that place; and\nlooking out farther, I saw they were all at sea together, making over\nfor the main. This was a dreadful sight to me, especially as, going\ndown to the shore, I could see the marks of horror which the dismal\nwork they had been about had left behind it\u2014viz. the blood, the bones,\nand part of the flesh of human bodies eaten and devoured by those\nwretches with merriment and sport. I was so filled with indignation at\nthe sight, that I now began to premeditate the destruction of the next\nthat I saw there, let them be whom or how many soever. It seemed\nevident to me that the visits which they made thus to this island were\nnot very frequent, for it was above fifteen months before any more of\nthem came on shore there again\u2014that is to say, I neither saw them nor\nany footsteps or signals of them in all that time; for as to the rainy\nseasons, then they are sure not to come abroad, at least not so far.\nYet all this while I lived uncomfortably, by reason of the constant\napprehensions of their coming upon me by surprise: from whence I\nobserve, that the expectation of evil is more bitter than the\nsuffering, especially if there is no room to shake off that expectation\nor those apprehensions.\nDuring all this time I was in a murdering humour, and spent most of my\nhours, which should have been better employed, in contriving how to\ncircumvent and fall upon them the very next time I should see\nthem\u2014especially if they should be divided, as they were the last time,\ninto two parties; nor did I consider at all that if I killed one\nparty\u2014suppose ten or a dozen\u2014I was still the next day, or week, or\nmonth, to kill another, and so another, even _ad infinitum_, till I\nshould be, at length, no less a murderer than they were in being\nman-eaters\u2014and perhaps much more so. I spent my days now in great\nperplexity and anxiety of mind, expecting that I should one day or\nother fall into the hands of these merciless creatures; and if I did at\nany time venture abroad, it was not without looking around me with the\ngreatest care and caution imaginable. And now I found, to my great\ncomfort, how happy it was that I had provided a tame flock or herd of\ngoats, for I durst not upon any account fire my gun, especially near\nthat side of the island where they usually came, lest I should alarm\nthe savages; and if they had fled from me now, I was sure to have them\ncome again with perhaps two or three hundred canoes with them in a few\ndays, and then I knew what to expect. However, I wore out a year and\nthree months more before I ever saw any more of the savages, and then I\nfound them again, as I shall soon observe. It is true they might have\nbeen there once or twice; but either they made no stay, or at least I\ndid not see them; but in the month of May, as near as I could\ncalculate, and in my four-and-twentieth year, I had a very strange\nencounter with them; of which in its place.\nThe perturbation of my mind during this fifteen or sixteen months\u2019\ninterval was very great; I slept unquietly, dreamed always frightful\ndreams, and often started out of my sleep in the night. In the day\ngreat troubles overwhelmed my mind; and in the night I dreamed often of\nkilling the savages and of the reasons why I might justify doing it.\nBut to waive all this for a while. It was in the middle of May, on the\nsixteenth day, I think, as well as my poor wooden calendar would\nreckon, for I marked all upon the post still; I say, it was on the\nsixteenth of May that it blew a very great storm of wind all day, with\na great deal of lightning and thunder, and; a very foul night it was\nafter it. I knew not what was the particular occasion of it, but as I\nwas reading in the Bible, and taken up with very serious thoughts about\nmy present condition, I was surprised with the noise of a gun, as I\nthought, fired at sea. This was, to be sure, a surprise quite of a\ndifferent nature from any I had met with before; for the notions this\nput into my thoughts were quite of another kind. I started up in the\ngreatest haste imaginable; and, in a trice, clapped my ladder to the\nmiddle place of the rock, and pulled it after me; and mounting it the\nsecond time, got to the top of the hill the very moment that a flash of\nfire bid me listen for a second gun, which, accordingly, in about half\na minute I heard; and by the sound, knew that it was from that part of\nthe sea where I was driven down the current in my boat. I immediately\nconsidered that this must be some ship in distress, and that they had\nsome comrade, or some other ship in company, and fired these for\nsignals of distress, and to obtain help. I had the presence of mind at\nthat minute to think, that though I could not help them, it might be\nthat they might help me; so I brought together all the dry wood I could\nget at hand, and making a good handsome pile, I set it on fire upon the\nhill. The wood was dry, and blazed freely; and, though the wind blew\nvery hard, yet it burned fairly out; so that I was certain, if there\nwas any such thing as a ship, they must needs see it. And no doubt they\ndid; for as soon as ever my fire blazed up, I heard another gun, and\nafter that several others, all from the same quarter. I plied my fire\nall night long, till daybreak: and when it was broad day, and the air\ncleared up, I saw something at a great distance at sea, full east of\nthe island, whether a sail or a hull I could not distinguish\u2014no, not\nwith my glass: the distance was so great, and the weather still\nsomething hazy also; at least, it was so out at sea.\nI looked frequently at it all that day, and soon perceived that it did\nnot move; so I presently concluded that it was a ship at anchor; and\nbeing eager, you may be sure, to be satisfied, I took my gun in my\nhand, and ran towards the south side of the island to the rocks where I\nhad formerly been carried away by the current; and getting up there,\nthe weather by this time being perfectly clear, I could plainly see, to\nmy great sorrow, the wreck of a ship, cast away in the night upon those\nconcealed rocks which I found when I was out in my boat; and which\nrocks, as they checked the violence of the stream, and made a kind of\ncounter-stream, or eddy, were the occasion of my recovering from the\nmost desperate, hopeless condition that ever I had been in in all my\nlife. Thus, what is one man\u2019s safety is another man\u2019s destruction; for\nit seems these men, whoever they were, being out of their knowledge,\nand the rocks being wholly under water, had been driven upon them in\nthe night, the wind blowing hard at ENE. Had they seen the island, as I\nmust necessarily suppose they did not, they must, as I thought, have\nendeavoured to have saved themselves on shore by the help of their\nboat; but their firing off guns for help, especially when they saw, as\nI imagined, my fire, filled me with many thoughts. First, I imagined\nthat upon seeing my light they might have put themselves into their\nboat, and endeavoured to make the shore: but that the sea running very\nhigh, they might have been cast away. Other times I imagined that they\nmight have lost their boat before, as might be the case many ways;\nparticularly by the breaking of the sea upon their ship, which many\ntimes obliged men to stave, or take in pieces, their boat, and\nsometimes to throw it overboard with their own hands. Other times I\nimagined they had some other ship or ships in company, who, upon the\nsignals of distress they made, had taken them up, and carried them off.\nOther times I fancied they were all gone off to sea in their boat, and\nbeing hurried away by the current that I had been formerly in, were\ncarried out into the great ocean, where there was nothing but misery\nand perishing: and that, perhaps, they might by this time think of\nstarving, and of being in a condition to eat one another.\nAs all these were but conjectures at best, so, in the condition I was\nin, I could do no more than look on upon the misery of the poor men,\nand pity them; which had still this good effect upon my side, that it\ngave me more and more cause to give thanks to God, who had so happily\nand comfortably provided for me in my desolate condition; and that of\ntwo ships\u2019 companies, who were now cast away upon this part of the\nworld, not one life should be spared but mine. I learned here again to\nobserve, that it is very rare that the providence of God casts us into\nany condition so low, or any misery so great, but we may see something\nor other to be thankful for, and may see others in worse circumstances\nthan our own. Such certainly was the case of these men, of whom I could\nnot so much as see room to suppose any were saved; nothing could make\nit rational so much as to wish or expect that they did not all perish\nthere, except the possibility only of their being taken up by another\nship in company; and this was but mere possibility indeed, for I saw\nnot the least sign or appearance of any such thing. I cannot explain,\nby any possible energy of words, what a strange longing I felt in my\nsoul upon this sight, breaking out sometimes thus: \u201cOh that there had\nbeen but one or two, nay, or but one soul saved out of this ship, to\nhave escaped to me, that I might but have had one companion, one\nfellow-creature, to have spoken to me and to have conversed with!\u201d In\nall the time of my solitary life I never felt so earnest, so strong a\ndesire after the society of my fellow-creatures, or so deep a regret at\nthe want of it.\nThere are some secret springs in the affections which, when they are\nset a-going by some object in view, or, though not in view, yet\nrendered present to the mind by the power of imagination, that motion\ncarries out the soul, by its impetuosity, to such violent, eager\nembracings of the object, that the absence of it is insupportable. Such\nwere these earnest wishings that but one man had been saved. I believe\nI repeated the words, \u201cOh that it had been but one!\u201d a thousand times;\nand my desires were so moved by it, that when I spoke the words my\nhands would clinch together, and my fingers would press the palms of my\nhands, so that if I had had any soft thing in my hand I should have\ncrushed it involuntarily; and the teeth in my head would strike\ntogether, and set against one another so strong, that for some time I\ncould not part them again. Let the naturalists explain these things,\nand the reason and manner of them. All I can do is to describe the\nfact, which was even surprising to me when I found it, though I knew\nnot from whence it proceeded; it was doubtless the effect of ardent\nwishes, and of strong ideas formed in my mind, realising the comfort\nwhich the conversation of one of my fellow-Christians would have been\nto me. But it was not to be; either their fate or mine, or both,\nforbade it; for, till the last year of my being on this island, I never\nknew whether any were saved out of that ship or no; and had only the\naffliction, some days after, to see the corpse of a drowned boy come on\nshore at the end of the island which was next the shipwreck. He had no\nclothes on but a seaman\u2019s waistcoat, a pair of open-kneed linen\ndrawers, and a blue linen shirt; but nothing to direct me so much as to\nguess what nation he was of. He had nothing in his pockets but two\npieces of eight and a tobacco pipe\u2014the last was to me of ten times more\nvalue than the first.\nIt was now calm, and I had a great mind to venture out in my boat to\nthis wreck, not doubting but I might find something on board that might\nbe useful to me. But that did not altogether press me so much as the\npossibility that there might be yet some living creature on board,\nwhose life I might not only save, but might, by saving that life,\ncomfort my own to the last degree; and this thought clung so to my\nheart that I could not be quiet night or day, but I must venture out in\nmy boat on board this wreck; and committing the rest to God\u2019s\nprovidence, I thought the impression was so strong upon my mind that it\ncould not be resisted\u2014that it must come from some invisible direction,\nand that I should be wanting to myself if I did not go.\nUnder the power of this impression, I hastened back to my castle,\nprepared everything for my voyage, took a quantity of bread, a great\npot of fresh water, a compass to steer by, a bottle of rum (for I had\nstill a great deal of that left), and a basket of raisins; and thus,\nloading myself with everything necessary. I went down to my boat, got\nthe water out of her, got her afloat, loaded all my cargo in her, and\nthen went home again for more. My second cargo was a great bag of rice,\nthe umbrella to set up over my head for a shade, another large pot of\nwater, and about two dozen of small loaves, or barley cakes, more than\nbefore, with a bottle of goat\u2019s milk and a cheese; all which with great\nlabour and sweat I carried to my boat; and praying to God to direct my\nvoyage, I put out, and rowing or paddling the canoe along the shore,\ncame at last to the utmost point of the island on the north-east side.\nAnd now I was to launch out into the ocean, and either to venture or\nnot to venture. I looked on the rapid currents which ran constantly on\nboth sides of the island at a distance, and which were very terrible to\nme from the remembrance of the hazard I had been in before, and my\nheart began to fail me; for I foresaw that if I was driven into either\nof those currents, I should be carried a great way out to sea, and\nperhaps out of my reach or sight of the island again; and that then, as\nmy boat was but small, if any little gale of wind should rise, I should\nbe inevitably lost.\nThese thoughts so oppressed my mind that I began to give over my\nenterprise; and having hauled my boat into a little creek on the shore,\nI stepped out, and sat down upon a rising bit of ground, very pensive\nand anxious, between fear and desire, about my voyage; when, as I was\nmusing, I could perceive that the tide was turned, and the flood come\non; upon which my going was impracticable for so many hours. Upon this,\npresently it occurred to me that I should go up to the highest piece of\nground I could find, and observe, if I could, how the sets of the tide\nor currents lay when the flood came in, that I might judge whether, if\nI was driven one way out, I might not expect to be driven another way\nhome, with the same rapidity of the currents. This thought was no\nsooner in my head than I cast my eye upon a little hill which\nsufficiently overlooked the sea both ways, and from whence I had a\nclear view of the currents or sets of the tide, and which way I was to\nguide myself in my return. Here I found, that as the current of ebb set\nout close by the south point of the island, so the current of the flood\nset in close by the shore of the north side; and that I had nothing to\ndo but to keep to the north side of the island in my return, and I\nshould do well enough.\nEncouraged by this observation, I resolved the next morning to set out\nwith the first of the tide; and reposing myself for the night in my\ncanoe, under the watch-coat I mentioned, I launched out. I first made a\nlittle out to sea, full north, till I began to feel the benefit of the\ncurrent, which set eastward, and which carried me at a great rate; and\nyet did not so hurry me as the current on the south side had done\nbefore, so as to take from me all government of the boat; but having a\nstrong steerage with my paddle, I went at a great rate directly for the\nwreck, and in less than two hours I came up to it. It was a dismal\nsight to look at; the ship, which by its building was Spanish, stuck\nfast, jammed in between two rocks. All the stern and quarter of her\nwere beaten to pieces by the sea; and as her forecastle, which stuck in\nthe rocks, had run on with great violence, her mainmast and foremast\nwere brought by the board\u2014that is to say, broken short off; but her\nbowsprit was sound, and the head and bow appeared firm. When I came\nclose to her, a dog appeared upon her, who, seeing me coming, yelped\nand cried; and as soon as I called him, jumped into the sea to come to\nme. I took him into the boat, but found him almost dead with hunger and\nthirst. I gave him a cake of my bread, and he devoured it like a\nravenous wolf that had been starving a fortnight in the snow; I then\ngave the poor creature some fresh water, with which, if I would have\nlet him, he would have burst himself. After this I went on board; but\nthe first sight I met with was two men drowned in the cook-room, or\nforecastle of the ship, with their arms fast about one another. I\nconcluded, as is indeed probable, that when the ship struck, it being\nin a storm, the sea broke so high and so continually over her, that the\nmen were not able to bear it, and were strangled with the constant\nrushing in of the water, as much as if they had been under water.\nBesides the dog, there was nothing left in the ship that had life; nor\nany goods, that I could see, but what were spoiled by the water. There\nwere some casks of liquor, whether wine or brandy I knew not, which lay\nlower in the hold, and which, the water being ebbed out, I could see;\nbut they were too big to meddle with. I saw several chests, which I\nbelieve belonged to some of the seamen; and I got two of them into the\nboat, without examining what was in them. Had the stern of the ship\nbeen fixed, and the forepart broken off, I am persuaded I might have\nmade a good voyage; for by what I found in those two chests I had room\nto suppose the ship had a great deal of wealth on board; and, if I may\nguess from the course she steered, she must have been bound from Buenos\nAyres, or the Rio de la Plata, in the south part of America, beyond the\nBrazils to the Havannah, in the Gulf of Mexico, and so perhaps to\nSpain. She had, no doubt, a great treasure in her, but of no use, at\nthat time, to anybody; and what became of the crew I then knew not.\nI found, besides these chests, a little cask full of liquor, of about\ntwenty gallons, which I got into my boat with much difficulty. There\nwere several muskets in the cabin, and a great powder-horn, with about\nfour pounds of powder in it; as for the muskets, I had no occasion for\nthem, so I left them, but took the powder-horn. I took a fire-shovel\nand tongs, which I wanted extremely, as also two little brass kettles,\na copper pot to make chocolate, and a gridiron; and with this cargo,\nand the dog, I came away, the tide beginning to make home again\u2014and the\nsame evening, about an hour within night, I reached the island again,\nweary and fatigued to the last degree. I reposed that night in the boat\nand in the morning I resolved to harbour what I had got in my new cave,\nand not carry it home to my castle. After refreshing myself, I got all\nmy cargo on shore, and began to examine the particulars. The cask of\nliquor I found to be a kind of rum, but not such as we had at the\nBrazils; and, in a word, not at all good; but when I came to open the\nchests, I found several things of great use to me\u2014for example, I found\nin one a fine case of bottles, of an extraordinary kind, and filled\nwith cordial waters, fine and very good; the bottles held about three\npints each, and were tipped with silver. I found two pots of very good\nsuccades, or sweetmeats, so fastened also on the top that the\nsalt-water had not hurt them; and two more of the same, which the water\nhad spoiled. I found some very good shirts, which were very welcome to\nme; and about a dozen and a half of white linen handkerchiefs and\ncoloured neckcloths; the former were also very welcome, being\nexceedingly refreshing to wipe my face in a hot day. Besides this, when\nI came to the till in the chest, I found there three great bags of\npieces of eight, which held about eleven hundred pieces in all; and in\none of them, wrapped up in a paper, six doubloons of gold, and some\nsmall bars or wedges of gold; I suppose they might all weigh near a\npound. In the other chest were some clothes, but of little value; but,\nby the circumstances, it must have belonged to the gunner\u2019s mate;\nthough there was no powder in it, except two pounds of fine glazed\npowder, in three flasks, kept, I suppose, for charging their\nfowling-pieces on occasion. Upon the whole, I got very little by this\nvoyage that was of any use to me; for, as to the money, I had no manner\nof occasion for it; it was to me as the dirt under my feet, and I would\nhave given it all for three or four pair of English shoes and\nstockings, which were things I greatly wanted, but had had none on my\nfeet for many years. I had, indeed, got two pair of shoes now, which I\ntook off the feet of two drowned men whom I saw in the wreck, and I\nfound two pair more in one of the chests, which were very welcome to\nme; but they were not like our English shoes, either for ease or\nservice, being rather what we call pumps than shoes. I found in this\nseaman\u2019s chest about fifty pieces of eight, in rials, but no gold: I\nsupposed this belonged to a poorer man than the other, which seemed to\nbelong to some officer. Well, however, I lugged this money home to my\ncave, and laid it up, as I had done that before which I had brought\nfrom our own ship; but it was a great pity, as I said, that the other\npart of this ship had not come to my share: for I am satisfied I might\nhave loaded my canoe several times over with money; and, thought I, if\nI ever escape to England, it might lie here safe enough till I come\nagain and fetch it.\nCHAPTER XIV. A DREAM REALISED\nHaving now brought all my things on shore and secured them, I went back\nto my boat, and rowed or paddled her along the shore to her old\nharbour, where I laid her up, and made the best of my way to my old\nhabitation, where I found everything safe and quiet. I began now to\nrepose myself, live after my old fashion, and take care of my family\naffairs; and for a while I lived easy enough, only that I was more\nvigilant than I used to be, looked out oftener, and did not go abroad\nso much; and if at any time I did stir with any freedom, it was always\nto the east part of the island, where I was pretty well satisfied the\nsavages never came, and where I could go without so many precautions,\nand such a load of arms and ammunition as I always carried with me if I\nwent the other way.\nI lived in this condition near two years more; but my unlucky head,\nthat was always to let me know it was born to make my body miserable,\nwas all these two years filled with projects and designs how, if it\nwere possible, I might get away from this island: for sometimes I was\nfor making another voyage to the wreck, though my reason told me that\nthere was nothing left there worth the hazard of my voyage; sometimes\nfor a ramble one way, sometimes another\u2014and I believe verily, if I had\nhad the boat that I went from Sallee in, I should have ventured to sea,\nbound anywhere, I knew not whither.\nI have been, in all my circumstances, a memento to those who are\ntouched with the general plague of mankind, whence, for aught I know,\none half of their miseries flow: I mean that of not being satisfied\nwith the station wherein God and Nature hath placed them\u2014for, not to\nlook back upon my primitive condition, and the excellent advice of my\nfather, the opposition to which was, as I may call it, my _original\nsin_, my subsequent mistakes of the same kind had been the means of my\ncoming into this miserable condition; for had that Providence which so\nhappily seated me at the Brazils as a planter blessed me with confined\ndesires, and I could have been contented to have gone on gradually, I\nmight have been by this time\u2014I mean in the time of my being in this\nisland\u2014one of the most considerable planters in the Brazils\u2014nay, I am\npersuaded, that by the improvements I had made in that little time I\nlived there, and the increase I should probably have made if I had\nremained, I might have been worth a hundred thousand moidores\u2014and what\nbusiness had I to leave a settled fortune, a well-stocked plantation,\nimproving and increasing, to turn supercargo to Guinea to fetch\nnegroes, when patience and time would have so increased our stock at\nhome, that we could have bought them at our own door from those whose\nbusiness it was to fetch them? and though it had cost us something\nmore, yet the difference of that price was by no means worth saving at\nso great a hazard.\nBut as this is usually the fate of young heads, so reflection upon the\nfolly of it is as commonly the exercise of more years, or of the\ndear-bought experience of time\u2014so it was with me now; and yet so deep\nhad the mistake taken root in my temper, that I could not satisfy\nmyself in my station, but was continually poring upon the means and\npossibility of my escape from this place; and that I may, with greater\npleasure to the reader, bring on the remaining part of my story, it may\nnot be improper to give some account of my first conceptions on the\nsubject of this foolish scheme for my escape, and how, and upon what\nfoundation, I acted.\nI am now to be supposed retired into my castle, after my late voyage to\nthe wreck, my frigate laid up and secured under water, as usual, and my\ncondition restored to what it was before: I had more wealth, indeed,\nthan I had before, but was not at all the richer; for I had no more use\nfor it than the Indians of Peru had before the Spaniards came there.\nIt was one of the nights in the rainy season in March, the\nfour-and-twentieth year of my first setting foot in this island of\nsolitude, I was lying in my bed or hammock, awake, very well in health,\nhad no pain, no distemper, no uneasiness of body, nor any uneasiness of\nmind more than ordinary, but could by no means close my eyes, that is,\nso as to sleep; no, not a wink all night long, otherwise than as\nfollows:\nIt is impossible to set down the innumerable crowd of thoughts that\nwhirled through that great thoroughfare of the brain, the memory, in\nthis night\u2019s time. I ran over the whole history of my life in\nminiature, or by abridgment, as I may call it, to my coming to this\nisland, and also of that part of my life since I came to this island.\nIn my reflections upon the state of my case since I came on shore on\nthis island, I was comparing the happy posture of my affairs in the\nfirst years of my habitation here, with the life of anxiety, fear, and\ncare which I had lived in ever since I had seen the print of a foot in\nthe sand. Not that I did not believe the savages had frequented the\nisland even all the while, and might have been several hundreds of them\nat times on shore there; but I had never known it, and was incapable of\nany apprehensions about it; my satisfaction was perfect, though my\ndanger was the same, and I was as happy in not knowing my danger as if\nI had never really been exposed to it. This furnished my thoughts with\nmany very profitable reflections, and particularly this one: How\ninfinitely good that Providence is, which has provided, in its\ngovernment of mankind, such narrow bounds to his sight and knowledge of\nthings; and though he walks in the midst of so many thousand dangers,\nthe sight of which, if discovered to him, would distract his mind and\nsink his spirits, he is kept serene and calm, by having the events of\nthings hid from his eyes, and knowing nothing of the dangers which\nsurround him.\nAfter these thoughts had for some time entertained me, I came to\nreflect seriously upon the real danger I had been in for so many years\nin this very island, and how I had walked about in the greatest\nsecurity, and with all possible tranquillity, even when perhaps nothing\nbut the brow of a hill, a great tree, or the casual approach of night,\nhad been between me and the worst kind of destruction\u2014viz. that of\nfalling into the hands of cannibals and savages, who would have seized\non me with the same view as I would on a goat or turtle; and have\nthought it no more crime to kill and devour me than I did of a pigeon\nor a curlew. I would unjustly slander myself if I should say I was not\nsincerely thankful to my great Preserver, to whose singular protection\nI acknowledged, with great humanity, all these unknown deliverances\nwere due, and without which I must inevitably have fallen into their\nmerciless hands.\nWhen these thoughts were over, my head was for some time taken up in\nconsidering the nature of these wretched creatures, I mean the savages,\nand how it came to pass in the world that the wise Governor of all\nthings should give up any of His creatures to such inhumanity\u2014nay, to\nsomething so much below even brutality itself\u2014as to devour its own\nkind: but as this ended in some (at that time) fruitless speculations,\nit occurred to me to inquire what part of the world these wretches\nlived in? how far off the coast was from whence they came? what they\nventured over so far from home for? what kind of boats they had? and\nwhy I might not order myself and my business so that I might be able to\ngo over thither, as they were to come to me?\nI never so much as troubled myself to consider what I should do with\nmyself when I went thither; what would become of me if I fell into the\nhands of these savages; or how I should escape them if they attacked\nme; no, nor so much as how it was possible for me to reach the coast,\nand not to be attacked by some or other of them, without any\npossibility of delivering myself; and if I should not fall into their\nhands, what I should do for provision, or whither I should bend my\ncourse; none of these thoughts, I say, so much as came in my way; but\nmy mind was wholly bent upon the notion of my passing over in my boat\nto the mainland. I looked upon my present condition as the most\nmiserable that could possibly be; that I was not able to throw myself\ninto anything but death, that could be called worse; and if I reached\nthe shore of the main I might perhaps meet with relief, or I might\ncoast along, as I did on the African shore, till I came to some\ninhabited country, and where I might find some relief; and after all,\nperhaps I might fall in with some Christian ship that might take me in:\nand if the worst came to the worst, I could but die, which would put an\nend to all these miseries at once. Pray note, all this was the fruit of\na disturbed mind, an impatient temper, made desperate, as it were, by\nthe long continuance of my troubles, and the disappointments I had met\nin the wreck I had been on board of, and where I had been so near\nobtaining what I so earnestly longed for\u2014somebody to speak to, and to\nlearn some knowledge from them of the place where I was, and of the\nprobable means of my deliverance. I was agitated wholly by these\nthoughts; all my calm of mind, in my resignation to Providence, and\nwaiting the issue of the dispositions of Heaven, seemed to be\nsuspended; and I had as it were no power to turn my thoughts to\nanything but to the project of a voyage to the main, which came upon me\nwith such force, and such an impetuosity of desire, that it was not to\nbe resisted.\nWhen this had agitated my thoughts for two hours or more, with such\nviolence that it set my very blood into a ferment, and my pulse beat as\nif I had been in a fever, merely with the extraordinary fervour of my\nmind about it, Nature\u2014as if I had been fatigued and exhausted with the\nvery thoughts of it\u2014threw me into a sound sleep. One would have thought\nI should have dreamed of it, but I did not, nor of anything relating to\nit, but I dreamed that as I was going out in the morning as usual from\nmy castle, I saw upon the shore two canoes and eleven savages coming to\nland, and that they brought with them another savage whom they were\ngoing to kill in order to eat him; when, on a sudden, the savage that\nthey were going to kill jumped away, and ran for his life; and I\nthought in my sleep that he came running into my little thick grove\nbefore my fortification, to hide himself; and that I seeing him alone,\nand not perceiving that the others sought him that way, showed myself\nto him, and smiling upon him, encouraged him: that he kneeled down to\nme, seeming to pray me to assist him; upon which I showed him my\nladder, made him go up, and carried him into my cave, and he became my\nservant; and that as soon as I had got this man, I said to myself, \u201cNow\nI may certainly venture to the mainland, for this fellow will serve me\nas a pilot, and will tell me what to do, and whither to go for\nprovisions, and whither not to go for fear of being devoured; what\nplaces to venture into, and what to shun.\u201d I waked with this thought;\nand was under such inexpressible impressions of joy at the prospect of\nmy escape in my dream, that the disappointments which I felt upon\ncoming to myself, and finding that it was no more than a dream, were\nequally extravagant the other way, and threw me into a very great\ndejection of spirits.\nUpon this, however, I made this conclusion: that my only way to go\nabout to attempt an escape was, to endeavour to get a savage into my\npossession: and, if possible, it should be one of their prisoners, whom\nthey had condemned to be eaten, and should bring hither to kill. But\nthese thoughts still were attended with this difficulty: that it was\nimpossible to effect this without attacking a whole caravan of them,\nand killing them all; and this was not only a very desperate attempt,\nand might miscarry, but, on the other hand, I had greatly scrupled the\nlawfulness of it to myself; and my heart trembled at the thoughts of\nshedding so much blood, though it was for my deliverance. I need not\nrepeat the arguments which occurred to me against this, they being the\nsame mentioned before; but though I had other reasons to offer now\u2014viz.\nthat those men were enemies to my life, and would devour me if they\ncould; that it was self-preservation, in the highest degree, to deliver\nmyself from this death of a life, and was acting in my own defence as\nmuch as if they were actually assaulting me, and the like; I say though\nthese things argued for it, yet the thoughts of shedding human blood\nfor my deliverance were very terrible to me, and such as I could by no\nmeans reconcile myself to for a great while. However, at last, after\nmany secret disputes with myself, and after great perplexities about it\n(for all these arguments, one way and another, struggled in my head a\nlong time), the eager prevailing desire of deliverance at length\nmastered all the rest; and I resolved, if possible, to get one of these\nsavages into my hands, cost what it would. My next thing was to\ncontrive how to do it, and this, indeed, was very difficult to resolve\non; but as I could pitch upon no probable means for it, so I resolved\nto put myself upon the watch, to see them when they came on shore, and\nleave the rest to the event; taking such measures as the opportunity\nshould present, let what would be.\nWith these resolutions in my thoughts, I set myself upon the scout as\noften as possible, and indeed so often that I was heartily tired of it;\nfor it was above a year and a half that I waited; and for great part of\nthat time went out to the west end, and to the south-west corner of the\nisland almost every day, to look for canoes, but none appeared. This\nwas very discouraging, and began to trouble me much, though I cannot\nsay that it did in this case (as it had done some time before) wear off\nthe edge of my desire to the thing; but the longer it seemed to be\ndelayed, the more eager I was for it: in a word, I was not at first so\ncareful to shun the sight of these savages, and avoid being seen by\nthem, as I was now eager to be upon them. Besides, I fancied myself\nable to manage one, nay, two or three savages, if I had them, so as to\nmake them entirely slaves to me, to do whatever I should direct them,\nand to prevent their being able at any time to do me any hurt. It was a\ngreat while that I pleased myself with this affair; but nothing still\npresented itself; all my fancies and schemes came to nothing, for no\nsavages came near me for a great while.\nAbout a year and a half after I entertained these notions (and by long\nmusing had, as it were, resolved them all into nothing, for want of an\noccasion to put them into execution), I was surprised one morning by\nseeing no less than five canoes all on shore together on my side the\nisland, and the people who belonged to them all landed and out of my\nsight. The number of them broke all my measures; for seeing so many,\nand knowing that they always came four or six, or sometimes more in a\nboat, I could not tell what to think of it, or how to take my measures\nto attack twenty or thirty men single-handed; so lay still in my\ncastle, perplexed and discomforted. However, I put myself into the same\nposition for an attack that I had formerly provided, and was just ready\nfor action, if anything had presented. Having waited a good while,\nlistening to hear if they made any noise, at length, being very\nimpatient, I set my guns at the foot of my ladder, and clambered up to\nthe top of the hill, by my two stages, as usual; standing so, however,\nthat my head did not appear above the hill, so that they could not\nperceive me by any means. Here I observed, by the help of my\nperspective glass, that they were no less than thirty in number; that\nthey had a fire kindled, and that they had meat dressed. How they had\ncooked it I knew not, or what it was; but they were all dancing, in I\nknow not how many barbarous gestures and figures, their own way, round\nthe fire.\nWhile I was thus looking on them, I perceived, by my perspective, two\nmiserable wretches dragged from the boats, where, it seems, they were\nlaid by, and were now brought out for the slaughter. I perceived one of\nthem immediately fall; being knocked down, I suppose, with a club or\nwooden sword, for that was their way; and two or three others were at\nwork immediately, cutting him open for their cookery, while the other\nvictim was left standing by himself, till they should be ready for him.\nIn that very moment this poor wretch, seeing himself a little at\nliberty and unbound, Nature inspired him with hopes of life, and he\nstarted away from them, and ran with incredible swiftness along the\nsands, directly towards me; I mean towards that part of the coast where\nmy habitation was. I was dreadfully frightened, I must acknowledge,\nwhen I perceived him run my way; and especially when, as I thought, I\nsaw him pursued by the whole body: and now I expected that part of my\ndream was coming to pass, and that he would certainly take shelter in\nmy grove; but I could not depend, by any means, upon my dream, that the\nother savages would not pursue him thither and find him there. However,\nI kept my station, and my spirits began to recover when I found that\nthere was not above three men that followed him; and still more was I\nencouraged, when I found that he outstripped them exceedingly in\nrunning, and gained ground on them; so that, if he could but hold out\nfor half-an-hour, I saw easily he would fairly get away from them all.\nThere was between them and my castle the creek, which I mentioned often\nin the first part of my story, where I landed my cargoes out of the\nship; and this I saw plainly he must necessarily swim over, or the poor\nwretch would be taken there; but when the savage escaping came thither,\nhe made nothing of it, though the tide was then up; but plunging in,\nswam through in about thirty strokes, or thereabouts, landed, and ran\nwith exceeding strength and swiftness. When the three persons came to\nthe creek, I found that two of them could swim, but the third could\nnot, and that, standing on the other side, he looked at the others, but\nwent no farther, and soon after went softly back again; which, as it\nhappened, was very well for him in the end. I observed that the two who\nswam were yet more than twice as strong swimming over the creek as the\nfellow was that fled from them. It came very warmly upon my thoughts,\nand indeed irresistibly, that now was the time to get me a servant,\nand, perhaps, a companion or assistant; and that I was plainly called\nby Providence to save this poor creature\u2019s life. I immediately ran down\nthe ladders with all possible expedition, fetched my two guns, for they\nwere both at the foot of the ladders, as I observed before, and getting\nup again with the same haste to the top of the hill, I crossed towards\nthe sea; and having a very short cut, and all down hill, placed myself\nin the way between the pursuers and the pursued, hallowing aloud to him\nthat fled, who, looking back, was at first perhaps as much frightened\nat me as at them; but I beckoned with my hand to him to come back; and,\nin the meantime, I slowly advanced towards the two that followed; then\nrushing at once upon the foremost, I knocked him down with the stock of\nmy piece. I was loath to fire, because I would not have the rest hear;\nthough, at that distance, it would not have been easily heard, and\nbeing out of sight of the smoke, too, they would not have known what to\nmake of it. Having knocked this fellow down, the other who pursued him\nstopped, as if he had been frightened, and I advanced towards him: but\nas I came nearer, I perceived presently he had a bow and arrow, and was\nfitting it to shoot at me: so I was then obliged to shoot at him first,\nwhich I did, and killed him at the first shot. The poor savage who\nfled, but had stopped, though he saw both his enemies fallen and\nkilled, as he thought, yet was so frightened with the fire and noise of\nmy piece that he stood stock still, and neither came forward nor went\nbackward, though he seemed rather inclined still to fly than to come\non. I hallooed again to him, and made signs to come forward, which he\neasily understood, and came a little way; then stopped again, and then\na little farther, and stopped again; and I could then perceive that he\nstood trembling, as if he had been taken prisoner, and had just been to\nbe killed, as his two enemies were. I beckoned to him again to come to\nme, and gave him all the signs of encouragement that I could think of;\nand he came nearer and nearer, kneeling down every ten or twelve steps,\nin token of acknowledgment for saving his life. I smiled at him, and\nlooked pleasantly, and beckoned to him to come still nearer; at length\nhe came close to me; and then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground,\nand laid his head upon the ground, and taking me by the foot, set my\nfoot upon his head; this, it seems, was in token of swearing to be my\nslave for ever. I took him up and made much of him, and encouraged him\nall I could. But there was more work to do yet; for I perceived the\nsavage whom I had knocked down was not killed, but stunned with the\nblow, and began to come to himself: so I pointed to him, and showed him\nthe savage, that he was not dead; upon this he spoke some words to me,\nand though I could not understand them, yet I thought they were\npleasant to hear; for they were the first sound of a man\u2019s voice that I\nhad heard, my own excepted, for above twenty-five years. But there was\nno time for such reflections now; the savage who was knocked down\nrecovered himself so far as to sit up upon the ground, and I perceived\nthat my savage began to be afraid; but when I saw that, I presented my\nother piece at the man, as if I would shoot him: upon this my savage,\nfor so I call him now, made a motion to me to lend him my sword, which\nhung naked in a belt by my side, which I did. He no sooner had it, but\nhe runs to his enemy, and at one blow cut off his head so cleverly, no\nexecutioner in Germany could have done it sooner or better; which I\nthought very strange for one who, I had reason to believe, never saw a\nsword in his life before, except their own wooden swords: however, it\nseems, as I learned afterwards, they make their wooden swords so sharp,\nso heavy, and the wood is so hard, that they will even cut off heads\nwith them, ay, and arms, and that at one blow, too. When he had done\nthis, he comes laughing to me in sign of triumph, and brought me the\nsword again, and with abundance of gestures which I did not understand,\nlaid it down, with the head of the savage that he had killed, just\nbefore me. But that which astonished him most was to know how I killed\nthe other Indian so far off; so, pointing to him, he made signs to me\nto let him go to him; and I bade him go, as well as I could. When he\ncame to him, he stood like one amazed, looking at him, turning him\nfirst on one side, then on the other; looked at the wound the bullet\nhad made, which it seems was just in his breast, where it had made a\nhole, and no great quantity of blood had followed; but he had bled\ninwardly, for he was quite dead. He took up his bow and arrows, and\ncame back; so I turned to go away, and beckoned him to follow me,\nmaking signs to him that more might come after them. Upon this he made\nsigns to me that he should bury them with sand, that they might not be\nseen by the rest, if they followed; and so I made signs to him again to\ndo so. He fell to work; and in an instant he had scraped a hole in the\nsand with his hands big enough to bury the first in, and then dragged\nhim into it, and covered him; and did so by the other also; I believe\nhe had him buried them both in a quarter of an hour. Then, calling\naway, I carried him, not to my castle, but quite away to my cave, on\nthe farther part of the island: so I did not let my dream come to pass\nin that part, that he came into my grove for shelter. Here I gave him\nbread and a bunch of raisins to eat, and a draught of water, which I\nfound he was indeed in great distress for, from his running: and having\nrefreshed him, I made signs for him to go and lie down to sleep,\nshowing him a place where I had laid some rice-straw, and a blanket\nupon it, which I used to sleep upon myself sometimes; so the poor\ncreature lay down, and went to sleep.\nHe was a comely, handsome fellow, perfectly well made, with straight,\nstrong limbs, not too large; tall, and well-shaped; and, as I reckon,\nabout twenty-six years of age. He had a very good countenance, not a\nfierce and surly aspect, but seemed to have something very manly in his\nface; and yet he had all the sweetness and softness of a European in\nhis countenance, too, especially when he smiled. His hair was long and\nblack, not curled like wool; his forehead very high and large; and a\ngreat vivacity and sparkling sharpness in his eyes. The colour of his\nskin was not quite black, but very tawny; and yet not an ugly, yellow,\nnauseous tawny, as the Brazilians and Virginians, and other natives of\nAmerica are, but of a bright kind of a dun olive-colour, that had in it\nsomething very agreeable, though not very easy to describe. His face\nwas round and plump; his nose small, not flat, like the negroes; a very\ngood mouth, thin lips, and his fine teeth well set, and as white as\nivory.\nAfter he had slumbered, rather than slept, about half-an-hour, he awoke\nagain, and came out of the cave to me, for I had been milking my goats\nwhich I had in the enclosure just by: when he espied me he came running\nto me, laying himself down again upon the ground, with all the possible\nsigns of an humble, thankful disposition, making a great many antic\ngestures to show it. At last he lays his head flat upon the ground,\nclose to my foot, and sets my other foot upon his head, as he had done\nbefore; and after this made all the signs to me of subjection,\nservitude, and submission imaginable, to let me know how he would serve\nme so long as he lived. I understood him in many things, and let him\nknow I was very well pleased with him. In a little time I began to\nspeak to him; and teach him to speak to me; and first, I let him know\nhis name should be Friday, which was the day I saved his life; I called\nhim so for the memory of the time. I likewise taught him to say Master;\nand then let him know that was to be my name; I likewise taught him to\nsay Yes and No and to know the meaning of them. I gave him some milk in\nan earthen pot, and let him see me drink it before him, and sop my\nbread in it; and gave him a cake of bread to do the like, which he\nquickly complied with, and made signs that it was very good for him. I\nkept there with him all that night; but as soon as it was day I\nbeckoned to him to come with me, and let him know I would give him some\nclothes; at which he seemed very glad, for he was stark naked. As we\nwent by the place where he had buried the two men, he pointed exactly\nto the place, and showed me the marks that he had made to find them\nagain, making signs to me that we should dig them up again and eat\nthem. At this I appeared very angry, expressed my abhorrence of it,\nmade as if I would vomit at the thoughts of it, and beckoned with my\nhand to him to come away, which he did immediately, with great\nsubmission. I then led him up to the top of the hill, to see if his\nenemies were gone; and pulling out my glass I looked, and saw plainly\nthe place where they had been, but no appearance of them or their\ncanoes; so that it was plain they were gone, and had left their two\ncomrades behind them, without any search after them.\nBut I was not content with this discovery; but having now more courage,\nand consequently more curiosity, I took my man Friday with me, giving\nhim the sword in his hand, with the bow and arrows at his back, which I\nfound he could use very dexterously, making him carry one gun for me,\nand I two for myself; and away we marched to the place where these\ncreatures had been; for I had a mind now to get some further\nintelligence of them. When I came to the place my very blood ran chill\nin my veins, and my heart sunk within me, at the horror of the\nspectacle; indeed, it was a dreadful sight, at least it was so to me,\nthough Friday made nothing of it. The place was covered with human\nbones, the ground dyed with their blood, and great pieces of flesh left\nhere and there, half-eaten, mangled, and scorched; and, in short, all\nthe tokens of the triumphant feast they had been making there, after a\nvictory over their enemies. I saw three skulls, five hands, and the\nbones of three or four legs and feet, and abundance of other parts of\nthe bodies; and Friday, by his signs, made me understand that they\nbrought over four prisoners to feast upon; that three of them were\neaten up, and that he, pointing to himself, was the fourth; that there\nhad been a great battle between them and their next king, of whose\nsubjects, it seems, he had been one, and that they had taken a great\nnumber of prisoners; all which were carried to several places by those\nwho had taken them in the fight, in order to feast upon them, as was\ndone here by these wretches upon those they brought hither.\nI caused Friday to gather all the skulls, bones, flesh, and whatever\nremained, and lay them together in a heap, and make a great fire upon\nit, and burn them all to ashes. I found Friday had still a hankering\nstomach after some of the flesh, and was still a cannibal in his\nnature; but I showed so much abhorrence at the very thoughts of it, and\nat the least appearance of it, that he durst not discover it: for I\nhad, by some means, let him know that I would kill him if he offered\nit.\nWhen he had done this, we came back to our castle; and there I fell to\nwork for my man Friday; and first of all, I gave him a pair of linen\ndrawers, which I had out of the poor gunner\u2019s chest I mentioned, which\nI found in the wreck, and which, with a little alteration, fitted him\nvery well; and then I made him a jerkin of goat\u2019s skin, as well as my\nskill would allow (for I was now grown a tolerably good tailor); and I\ngave him a cap which I made of hare\u2019s skin, very convenient, and\nfashionable enough; and thus he was clothed, for the present, tolerably\nwell, and was mighty well pleased to see himself almost as well clothed\nas his master. It is true he went awkwardly in these clothes at first:\nwearing the drawers was very awkward to him, and the sleeves of the\nwaistcoat galled his shoulders and the inside of his arms; but a little\neasing them where he complained they hurt him, and using himself to\nthem, he took to them at length very well.\nThe next day, after I came home to my hutch with him, I began to\nconsider where I should lodge him: and that I might do well for him and\nyet be perfectly easy myself, I made a little tent for him in the\nvacant place between my two fortifications, in the inside of the last,\nand in the outside of the first. As there was a door or entrance there\ninto my cave, I made a formal framed door-case, and a door to it, of\nboards, and set it up in the passage, a little within the entrance;\nand, causing the door to open in the inside, I barred it up in the\nnight, taking in my ladders, too; so that Friday could no way come at\nme in the inside of my innermost wall, without making so much noise in\ngetting over that it must needs awaken me; for my first wall had now a\ncomplete roof over it of long poles, covering all my tent, and leaning\nup to the side of the hill; which was again laid across with smaller\nsticks, instead of laths, and then thatched over a great thickness with\nthe rice-straw, which was strong, like reeds; and at the hole or place\nwhich was left to go in or out by the ladder I had placed a kind of\ntrap-door, which, if it had been attempted on the outside, would not\nhave opened at all, but would have fallen down and made a great\nnoise\u2014as to weapons, I took them all into my side every night. But I\nneeded none of all this precaution; for never man had a more faithful,\nloving, sincere servant than Friday was to me: without passions,\nsullenness, or designs, perfectly obliged and engaged; his very\naffections were tied to me, like those of a child to a father; and I\ndaresay he would have sacrificed his life to save mine upon any\noccasion whatsoever\u2014the many testimonies he gave me of this put it out\nof doubt, and soon convinced me that I needed to use no precautions for\nmy safety on his account.\nThis frequently gave me occasion to observe, and that with wonder, that\nhowever it had pleased God in His providence, and in the government of\nthe works of His hands, to take from so great a part of the world of\nHis creatures the best uses to which their faculties and the powers of\ntheir souls are adapted, yet that He has bestowed upon them the same\npowers, the same reason, the same affections, the same sentiments of\nkindness and obligation, the same passions and resentments of wrongs,\nthe same sense of gratitude, sincerity, fidelity, and all the\ncapacities of doing good and receiving good that He has given to us;\nand that when He pleases to offer them occasions of exerting these,\nthey are as ready, nay, more ready, to apply them to the right uses for\nwhich they were bestowed than we are. This made me very melancholy\nsometimes, in reflecting, as the several occasions presented, how mean\na use we make of all these, even though we have these powers\nenlightened by the great lamp of instruction, the Spirit of God, and by\nthe knowledge of His word added to our understanding; and why it has\npleased God to hide the like saving knowledge from so many millions of\nsouls, who, if I might judge by this poor savage, would make a much\nbetter use of it than we did. From hence I sometimes was led too far,\nto invade the sovereignty of Providence, and, as it were, arraign the\njustice of so arbitrary a disposition of things, that should hide that\nsight from some, and reveal it to others, and yet expect a like duty\nfrom both; but I shut it up, and checked my thoughts with this\nconclusion: first, that we did not know by what light and law these\nshould be condemned; but that as God was necessarily, and by the nature\nof His being, infinitely holy and just, so it could not be, but if\nthese creatures were all sentenced to absence from Himself, it was on\naccount of sinning against that light which, as the Scripture says, was\na law to themselves, and by such rules as their consciences would\nacknowledge to be just, though the foundation was not discovered to us;\nand secondly, that still as we all are the clay in the hand of the\npotter, no vessel could say to him, \u201cWhy hast thou formed me thus?\u201d\nBut to return to my new companion. I was greatly delighted with him,\nand made it my business to teach him everything that was proper to make\nhim useful, handy, and helpful; but especially to make him speak, and\nunderstand me when I spoke; and he was the aptest scholar that ever\nwas; and particularly was so merry, so constantly diligent, and so\npleased when he could but understand me, or make me understand him,\nthat it was very pleasant for me to talk to him. Now my life began to\nbe so easy that I began to say to myself that could I but have been\nsafe from more savages, I cared not if I was never to remove from the\nplace where I lived.\nCHAPTER XV. FRIDAY\u2019S EDUCATION\nAfter I had been two or three days returned to my castle, I thought\nthat, in order to bring Friday off from his horrid way of feeding, and\nfrom the relish of a cannibal\u2019s stomach, I ought to let him taste other\nflesh; so I took him out with me one morning to the woods. I went,\nindeed, intending to kill a kid out of my own flock; and bring it home\nand dress it; but as I was going I saw a she-goat lying down in the\nshade, and two young kids sitting by her. I catched hold of Friday.\n\u201cHold,\u201d said I, \u201cstand still;\u201d and made signs to him not to stir:\nimmediately I presented my piece, shot, and killed one of the kids. The\npoor creature, who had at a distance, indeed, seen me kill the savage,\nhis enemy, but did not know, nor could imagine how it was done, was\nsensibly surprised, trembled, and shook, and looked so amazed that I\nthought he would have sunk down. He did not see the kid I shot at, or\nperceive I had killed it, but ripped up his waistcoat to feel whether\nhe was not wounded; and, as I found presently, thought I was resolved\nto kill him: for he came and kneeled down to me, and embracing my\nknees, said a great many things I did not understand; but I could\neasily see the meaning was to pray me not to kill him.\nI soon found a way to convince him that I would do him no harm; and\ntaking him up by the hand, laughed at him, and pointing to the kid\nwhich I had killed, beckoned to him to run and fetch it, which he did:\nand while he was wondering, and looking to see how the creature was\nkilled, I loaded my gun again. By-and-by I saw a great fowl, like a\nhawk, sitting upon a tree within shot; so, to let Friday understand a\nlittle what I would do, I called him to me again, pointed at the fowl,\nwhich was indeed a parrot, though I thought it had been a hawk; I say,\npointing to the parrot, and to my gun, and to the ground under the\nparrot, to let him see I would make it fall, I made him understand that\nI would shoot and kill that bird; accordingly, I fired, and bade him\nlook, and immediately he saw the parrot fall. He stood like one\nfrightened again, notwithstanding all I had said to him; and I found he\nwas the more amazed, because he did not see me put anything into the\ngun, but thought that there must be some wonderful fund of death and\ndestruction in that thing, able to kill man, beast, bird, or anything\nnear or far off; and the astonishment this created in him was such as\ncould not wear off for a long time; and I believe, if I would have let\nhim, he would have worshipped me and my gun. As for the gun itself, he\nwould not so much as touch it for several days after; but he would\nspeak to it and talk to it, as if it had answered him, when he was by\nhimself; which, as I afterwards learned of him, was to desire it not to\nkill him. Well, after his astonishment was a little over at this, I\npointed to him to run and fetch the bird I had shot, which he did, but\nstayed some time; for the parrot, not being quite dead, had fluttered\naway a good distance from the place where she fell: however, he found\nher, took her up, and brought her to me; and as I had perceived his\nignorance about the gun before, I took this advantage to charge the gun\nagain, and not to let him see me do it, that I might be ready for any\nother mark that might present; but nothing more offered at that time:\nso I brought home the kid, and the same evening I took the skin off,\nand cut it out as well as I could; and having a pot fit for that\npurpose, I boiled or stewed some of the flesh, and made some very good\nbroth. After I had begun to eat some I gave some to my man, who seemed\nvery glad of it, and liked it very well; but that which was strangest\nto him was to see me eat salt with it. He made a sign to me that the\nsalt was not good to eat; and putting a little into his own mouth, he\nseemed to nauseate it, and would spit and sputter at it, washing his\nmouth with fresh water after it: on the other hand, I took some meat\ninto my mouth without salt, and I pretended to spit and sputter for\nwant of salt, as much as he had done at the salt; but it would not do;\nhe would never care for salt with meat or in his broth; at least, not\nfor a great while, and then but a very little.\nHaving thus fed him with boiled meat and broth, I was resolved to feast\nhim the next day by roasting a piece of the kid: this I did by hanging\nit before the fire on a string, as I had seen many people do in\nEngland, setting two poles up, one on each side of the fire, and one\nacross the top, and tying the string to the cross stick, letting the\nmeat turn continually. This Friday admired very much; but when he came\nto taste the flesh, he took so many ways to tell me how well he liked\nit, that I could not but understand him: and at last he told me, as\nwell as he could, he would never eat man\u2019s flesh any more, which I was\nvery glad to hear.\nThe next day I set him to work beating some corn out, and sifting it in\nthe manner I used to do, as I observed before; and he soon understood\nhow to do it as well as I, especially after he had seen what the\nmeaning of it was, and that it was to make bread of; for after that I\nlet him see me make my bread, and bake it too; and in a little time\nFriday was able to do all the work for me as well as I could do it\nmyself.\nI began now to consider, that having two mouths to feed instead of one,\nI must provide more ground for my harvest, and plant a larger quantity\nof corn than I used to do; so I marked out a larger piece of land, and\nbegan the fence in the same manner as before, in which Friday worked\nnot only very willingly and very hard, but did it very cheerfully: and\nI told him what it was for; that it was for corn to make more bread,\nbecause he was now with me, and that I might have enough for him and\nmyself too. He appeared very sensible of that part, and let me know\nthat he thought I had much more labour upon me on his account than I\nhad for myself; and that he would work the harder for me if I would\ntell him what to do.\nThis was the pleasantest year of all the life I led in this place.\nFriday began to talk pretty well, and understand the names of almost\neverything I had occasion to call for, and of every place I had to send\nhim to, and talked a great deal to me; so that, in short, I began now\nto have some use for my tongue again, which, indeed, I had very little\noccasion for before. Besides the pleasure of talking to him, I had a\nsingular satisfaction in the fellow himself: his simple, unfeigned\nhonesty appeared to me more and more every day, and I began really to\nlove the creature; and on his side I believe he loved me more than it\nwas possible for him ever to love anything before.\nI had a mind once to try if he had any inclination for his own country\nagain; and having taught him English so well that he could answer me\nalmost any question, I asked him whether the nation that he belonged to\nnever conquered in battle? At which he smiled, and said\u2014\u201cYes, yes, we\nalways fight the better;\u201d that is, he meant always get the better in\nfight; and so we began the following discourse:\u2014\n_Master_.\u2014You always fight the better; how came you to be taken\nprisoner, then, Friday?\n_Friday_.\u2014My nation beat much for all that.\n_Master_.\u2014How beat? If your nation beat them, how came you to be taken?\n_Friday_.\u2014They more many than my nation, in the place where me was;\nthey take one, two, three, and me: my nation over-beat them in the\nyonder place, where me no was; there my nation take one, two, great\nthousand.\n_Master_.\u2014But why did not your side recover you from the hands of your\nenemies, then?\n_Friday_.\u2014They run, one, two, three, and me, and make go in the canoe;\nmy nation have no canoe that time.\n_Master_.\u2014Well, Friday, and what does your nation do with the men they\ntake? Do they carry them away and eat them, as these did?\n_Friday_.\u2014Yes, my nation eat mans too; eat all up.\n_Master_.\u2014Where do they carry them?\n_Friday_.\u2014Go to other place, where they think.\n_Master_.\u2014Do they come hither?\n_Friday_.\u2014Yes, yes, they come hither; come other else place.\n_Master_.\u2014Have you been here with them?\n_Friday_.\u2014Yes, I have been here (points to the NW. side of the island,\nwhich, it seems, was their side).\nBy this I understood that my man Friday had formerly been among the\nsavages who used to come on shore on the farther part of the island, on\nthe same man-eating occasions he was now brought for; and some time\nafter, when I took the courage to carry him to that side, being the\nsame I formerly mentioned, he presently knew the place, and told me he\nwas there once, when they ate up twenty men, two women, and one child;\nhe could not tell twenty in English, but he numbered them by laying so\nmany stones in a row, and pointing to me to tell them over.\nI have told this passage, because it introduces what follows: that\nafter this discourse I had with him, I asked him how far it was from\nour island to the shore, and whether the canoes were not often lost. He\ntold me there was no danger, no canoes ever lost: but that after a\nlittle way out to sea, there was a current and wind, always one way in\nthe morning, the other in the afternoon. This I understood to be no\nmore than the sets of the tide, as going out or coming in; but I\nafterwards understood it was occasioned by the great draft and reflux\nof the mighty river Orinoco, in the mouth or gulf of which river, as I\nfound afterwards, our island lay; and that this land, which I perceived\nto be W. and NW., was the great island Trinidad, on the north point of\nthe mouth of the river. I asked Friday a thousand questions about the\ncountry, the inhabitants, the sea, the coast, and what nations were\nnear; he told me all he knew with the greatest openness imaginable. I\nasked him the names of the several nations of his sort of people, but\ncould get no other name than Caribs; from whence I easily understood\nthat these were the Caribbees, which our maps place on the part of\nAmerica which reaches from the mouth of the river Orinoco to Guiana,\nand onwards to St. Martha. He told me that up a great way beyond the\nmoon, that was beyond the setting of the moon, which must be west from\ntheir country, there dwelt white bearded men, like me, and pointed to\nmy great whiskers, which I mentioned before; and that they had killed\nmuch mans, that was his word: by all which I understood he meant the\nSpaniards, whose cruelties in America had been spread over the whole\ncountry, and were remembered by all the nations from father to son.\nI inquired if he could tell me how I might go from this island, and get\namong those white men. He told me, \u201cYes, yes, you may go in two canoe.\u201d\nI could not understand what he meant, or make him describe to me what\nhe meant by two canoe, till at last, with great difficulty, I found he\nmeant it must be in a large boat, as big as two canoes. This part of\nFriday\u2019s discourse I began to relish very well; and from this time I\nentertained some hopes that, one time or other, I might find an\nopportunity to make my escape from this place, and that this poor\nsavage might be a means to help me.\nDuring the long time that Friday had now been with me, and that he\nbegan to speak to me, and understand me, I was not wanting to lay a\nfoundation of religious knowledge in his mind; particularly I asked him\none time, who made him. The creature did not understand me at all, but\nthought I had asked who was his father\u2014but I took it up by another\nhandle, and asked him who made the sea, the ground we walked on, and\nthe hills and woods. He told me, \u201cIt was one Benamuckee, that lived\nbeyond all;\u201d he could describe nothing of this great person, but that\nhe was very old, \u201cmuch older,\u201d he said, \u201cthan the sea or land, than the\nmoon or the stars.\u201d I asked him then, if this old person had made all\nthings, why did not all things worship him? He looked very grave, and,\nwith a perfect look of innocence, said, \u201cAll things say O to him.\u201d I\nasked him if the people who die in his country went away anywhere? He\nsaid, \u201cYes; they all went to Benamuckee.\u201d Then I asked him whether\nthose they eat up went thither too. He said, \u201cYes.\u201d\nFrom these things, I began to instruct him in the knowledge of the true\nGod; I told him that the great Maker of all things lived up there,\npointing up towards heaven; that He governed the world by the same\npower and providence by which He made it; that He was omnipotent, and\ncould do everything for us, give everything to us, take everything from\nus; and thus, by degrees, I opened his eyes. He listened with great\nattention, and received with pleasure the notion of Jesus Christ being\nsent to redeem us; and of the manner of making our prayers to God, and\nHis being able to hear us, even in heaven. He told me one day, that if\nour God could hear us, up beyond the sun, he must needs be a greater\nGod than their Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off, and yet\ncould not hear till they went up to the great mountains where he dwelt\nto speak to them. I asked him if ever he went thither to speak to him.\nHe said, \u201cNo; they never went that were young men; none went thither\nbut the old men,\u201d whom he called their Oowokakee; that is, as I made\nhim explain to me, their religious, or clergy; and that they went to\nsay O (so he called saying prayers), and then came back and told them\nwhat Benamuckee said. By this I observed, that there is priestcraft\neven among the most blinded, ignorant pagans in the world; and the\npolicy of making a secret of religion, in order to preserve the\nveneration of the people to the clergy, not only to be found in the\nRoman, but, perhaps, among all religions in the world, even among the\nmost brutish and barbarous savages.\nI endeavoured to clear up this fraud to my man Friday; and told him\nthat the pretence of their old men going up to the mountains to say O\nto their god Benamuckee was a cheat; and their bringing word from\nthence what he said was much more so; that if they met with any answer,\nor spake with any one there, it must be with an evil spirit; and then I\nentered into a long discourse with him about the devil, the origin of\nhim, his rebellion against God, his enmity to man, the reason of it,\nhis setting himself up in the dark parts of the world to be worshipped\ninstead of God, and as God, and the many stratagems he made use of to\ndelude mankind to their ruin; how he had a secret access to our\npassions and to our affections, and to adapt his snares to our\ninclinations, so as to cause us even to be our own tempters, and run\nupon our destruction by our own choice.\nI found it was not so easy to imprint right notions in his mind about\nthe devil as it was about the being of a God. Nature assisted all my\narguments to evidence to him even the necessity of a great First Cause,\nan overruling, governing Power, a secret directing Providence, and of\nthe equity and justice of paying homage to Him that made us, and the\nlike; but there appeared nothing of this kind in the notion of an evil\nspirit, of his origin, his being, his nature, and above all, of his\ninclination to do evil, and to draw us in to do so too; and the poor\ncreature puzzled me once in such a manner, by a question merely natural\nand innocent, that I scarce knew what to say to him. I had been talking\na great deal to him of the power of God, His omnipotence, His aversion\nto sin, His being a consuming fire to the workers of iniquity; how, as\nHe had made us all, He could destroy us and all the world in a moment;\nand he listened with great seriousness to me all the while. After this\nI had been telling him how the devil was God\u2019s enemy in the hearts of\nmen, and used all his malice and skill to defeat the good designs of\nProvidence, and to ruin the kingdom of Christ in the world, and the\nlike. \u201cWell,\u201d says Friday, \u201cbut you say God is so strong, so great; is\nHe not much strong, much might as the devil?\u201d \u201cYes, yes,\u201d says I,\n\u201cFriday; God is stronger than the devil\u2014God is above the devil, and\ntherefore we pray to God to tread him down under our feet, and enable\nus to resist his temptations and quench his fiery darts.\u201d \u201cBut,\u201d says\nhe again, \u201cif God much stronger, much might as the wicked devil, why\nGod no kill the devil, so make him no more do wicked?\u201d I was strangely\nsurprised at this question; and, after all, though I was now an old\nman, yet I was but a young doctor, and ill qualified for a casuist or a\nsolver of difficulties; and at first I could not tell what to say; so I\npretended not to hear him, and asked him what he said; but he was too\nearnest for an answer to forget his question, so that he repeated it in\nthe very same broken words as above. By this time I had recovered\nmyself a little, and I said, \u201cGod will at last punish him severely; he\nis reserved for the judgment, and is to be cast into the bottomless\npit, to dwell with everlasting fire.\u201d This did not satisfy Friday; but\nhe returns upon me, repeating my words, \u201c\u2018_Reserve at last_!\u2019 me no\nunderstand\u2014but why not kill the devil now; not kill great ago?\u201d \u201cYou\nmay as well ask me,\u201d said I, \u201cwhy God does not kill you or me, when we\ndo wicked things here that offend Him\u2014we are preserved to repent and be\npardoned.\u201d He mused some time on this. \u201cWell, well,\u201d says he, mighty\naffectionately, \u201cthat well\u2014so you, I, devil, all wicked, all preserve,\nrepent, God pardon all.\u201d Here I was run down again by him to the last\ndegree; and it was a testimony to me, how the mere notions of nature,\nthough they will guide reasonable creatures to the knowledge of a God,\nand of a worship or homage due to the supreme being of God, as the\nconsequence of our nature, yet nothing but divine revelation can form\nthe knowledge of Jesus Christ, and of redemption purchased for us; of a\nMediator of the new covenant, and of an Intercessor at the footstool of\nGod\u2019s throne; I say, nothing but a revelation from Heaven can form\nthese in the soul; and that, therefore, the gospel of our Lord and\nSaviour Jesus Christ, I mean the Word of God, and the Spirit of God,\npromised for the guide and sanctifier of His people, are the absolutely\nnecessary instructors of the souls of men in the saving knowledge of\nGod and the means of salvation.\nI therefore diverted the present discourse between me and my man,\nrising up hastily, as upon some sudden occasion of going out; then\nsending him for something a good way off, I seriously prayed to God\nthat He would enable me to instruct savingly this poor savage;\nassisting, by His Spirit, the heart of the poor ignorant creature to\nreceive the light of the knowledge of God in Christ, reconciling him to\nHimself, and would guide me so to speak to him from the Word of God\nthat his conscience might be convinced, his eyes opened, and his soul\nsaved. When he came again to me, I entered into a long discourse with\nhim upon the subject of the redemption of man by the Saviour of the\nworld, and of the doctrine of the gospel preached from Heaven, viz. of\nrepentance towards God, and faith in our blessed Lord Jesus. I then\nexplained to him as well as I could why our blessed Redeemer took not\non Him the nature of angels but the seed of Abraham; and how, for that\nreason, the fallen angels had no share in the redemption; that He came\nonly to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, and the like.\nI had, God knows, more sincerity than knowledge in all the methods I\ntook for this poor creature\u2019s instruction, and must acknowledge, what I\nbelieve all that act upon the same principle will find, that in laying\nthings open to him, I really informed and instructed myself in many\nthings that either I did not know or had not fully considered before,\nbut which occurred naturally to my mind upon searching into them, for\nthe information of this poor savage; and I had more affection in my\ninquiry after things upon this occasion than ever I felt before: so\nthat, whether this poor wild wretch was better for me or no, I had\ngreat reason to be thankful that ever he came to me; my grief sat\nlighter, upon me; my habitation grew comfortable to me beyond measure:\nand when I reflected that in this solitary life which I have been\nconfined to, I had not only been moved to look up to heaven myself, and\nto seek the Hand that had brought me here, but was now to be made an\ninstrument, under Providence, to save the life, and, for aught I knew,\nthe soul of a poor savage, and bring him to the true knowledge of\nreligion and of the Christian doctrine, that he might know Christ\nJesus, in whom is life eternal; I say, when I reflected upon all these\nthings, a secret joy ran through every part of My soul, and I\nfrequently rejoiced that ever I was brought to this place, which I had\nso often thought the most dreadful of all afflictions that could\npossibly have befallen me.\nI continued in this thankful frame all the remainder of my time; and\nthe conversation which employed the hours between Friday and me was\nsuch as made the three years which we lived there together perfectly\nand completely happy, if any such thing as complete happiness can be\nformed in a sublunary state. This savage was now a good Christian, a\nmuch better than I; though I have reason to hope, and bless God for it,\nthat we were equally penitent, and comforted, restored penitents. We\nhad here the Word of God to read, and no farther off from His Spirit to\ninstruct than if we had been in England. I always applied myself, in\nreading the Scripture, to let him know, as well as I could, the meaning\nof what I read; and he again, by his serious inquiries and\nquestionings, made me, as I said before, a much better scholar in the\nScripture knowledge than I should ever have been by my own mere private\nreading. Another thing I cannot refrain from observing here also, from\nexperience in this retired part of my life, viz. how infinite and\ninexpressible a blessing it is that the knowledge of God, and of the\ndoctrine of salvation by Christ Jesus, is so plainly laid down in the\nWord of God, so easy to be received and understood, that, as the bare\nreading the Scripture made me capable of understanding enough of my\nduty to carry me directly on to the great work of sincere repentance\nfor my sins, and laying hold of a Saviour for life and salvation, to a\nstated reformation in practice, and obedience to all God\u2019s commands,\nand this without any teacher or instructor, I mean human; so the same\nplain instruction sufficiently served to the enlightening this savage\ncreature, and bringing him to be such a Christian as I have known few\nequal to him in my life.\nAs to all the disputes, wrangling, strife, and contention which have\nhappened in the world about religion, whether niceties in doctrines or\nschemes of church government, they were all perfectly useless to us,\nand, for aught I can yet see, they have been so to the rest of the\nworld. We had the sure guide to heaven, viz. the Word of God; and we\nhad, blessed be God, comfortable views of the Spirit of God teaching\nand instructing by His word, leading us into all truth, and making us\nboth willing and obedient to the instruction of His word. And I cannot\nsee the least use that the greatest knowledge of the disputed points of\nreligion, which have made such confusion in the world, would have been\nto us, if we could have obtained it. But I must go on with the\nhistorical part of things, and take every part in its order.\nAfter Friday and I became more intimately acquainted, and that he could\nunderstand almost all I said to him, and speak pretty fluently, though\nin broken English, to me, I acquainted him with my own history, or at\nleast so much of it as related to my coming to this place: how I had\nlived there, and how long; I let him into the mystery, for such it was\nto him, of gunpowder and bullet, and taught him how to shoot. I gave\nhim a knife, which he was wonderfully delighted with; and I made him a\nbelt, with a frog hanging to it, such as in England we wear hangers in;\nand in the frog, instead of a hanger, I gave him a hatchet, which was\nnot only as good a weapon in some cases, but much more useful upon\nother occasions.\nI described to him the country of Europe, particularly England, which I\ncame from; how we lived, how we worshipped God, how we behaved to one\nanother, and how we traded in ships to all parts of the world. I gave\nhim an account of the wreck which I had been on board of, and showed\nhim, as near as I could, the place where she lay; but she was all\nbeaten in pieces before, and gone. I showed him the ruins of our boat,\nwhich we lost when we escaped, and which I could not stir with my whole\nstrength then; but was now fallen almost all to pieces. Upon seeing\nthis boat, Friday stood, musing a great while, and said nothing. I\nasked him what it was he studied upon. At last says he, \u201cMe see such\nboat like come to place at my nation.\u201d I did not understand him a good\nwhile; but at last, when I had examined further into it, I understood\nby him that a boat, such as that had been, came on shore upon the\ncountry where he lived: that is, as he explained it, was driven thither\nby stress of weather. I presently imagined that some European ship must\nhave been cast away upon their coast, and the boat might get loose and\ndrive ashore; but was so dull that I never once thought of men making\ntheir escape from a wreck thither, much less whence they might come: so\nI only inquired after a description of the boat.\nFriday described the boat to me well enough; but brought me better to\nunderstand him when he added with some warmth, \u201cWe save the white mans\nfrom drown.\u201d Then I presently asked if there were any white mans, as he\ncalled them, in the boat. \u201cYes,\u201d he said; \u201cthe boat full of white\nmans.\u201d I asked him how many. He told upon his fingers seventeen. I\nasked him then what became of them. He told me, \u201cThey live, they dwell\nat my nation.\u201d\nThis put new thoughts into my head; for I presently imagined that these\nmight be the men belonging to the ship that was cast away in the sight\nof my island, as I now called it; and who, after the ship was struck on\nthe rock, and they saw her inevitably lost, had saved themselves in\ntheir boat, and were landed upon that wild shore among the savages.\nUpon this I inquired of him more critically what was become of them. He\nassured me they lived still there; that they had been there about four\nyears; that the savages left them alone, and gave them victuals to live\non. I asked him how it came to pass they did not kill them and eat\nthem. He said, \u201cNo, they make brother with them;\u201d that is, as I\nunderstood him, a truce; and then he added, \u201cThey no eat mans but when\nmake the war fight;\u201d that is to say, they never eat any men but such as\ncome to fight with them and are taken in battle.\nIt was after this some considerable time, that being upon the top of\nthe hill at the east side of the island, from whence, as I have said, I\nhad, in a clear day, discovered the main or continent of America,\nFriday, the weather being very serene, looks very earnestly towards the\nmainland, and, in a kind of surprise, falls a jumping and dancing, and\ncalls out to me, for I was at some distance from him. I asked him what\nwas the matter. \u201cOh, joy!\u201d says he; \u201cOh, glad! there see my country,\nthere my nation!\u201d I observed an extraordinary sense of pleasure\nappeared in his face, and his eyes sparkled, and his countenance\ndiscovered a strange eagerness, as if he had a mind to be in his own\ncountry again. This observation of mine put a great many thoughts into\nme, which made me at first not so easy about my new man Friday as I was\nbefore; and I made no doubt but that, if Friday could get back to his\nown nation again, he would not only forget all his religion but all his\nobligation to me, and would be forward enough to give his countrymen an\naccount of me, and come back, perhaps with a hundred or two of them,\nand make a feast upon me, at which he might be as merry as he used to\nbe with those of his enemies when they were taken in war. But I wronged\nthe poor honest creature very much, for which I was very sorry\nafterwards. However, as my jealousy increased, and held some weeks, I\nwas a little more circumspect, and not so familiar and kind to him as\nbefore: in which I was certainly wrong too; the honest, grateful\ncreature having no thought about it but what consisted with the best\nprinciples, both as a religious Christian and as a grateful friend, as\nappeared afterwards to my full satisfaction.\nWhile my jealousy of him lasted, you may be sure I was every day\npumping him to see if he would discover any of the new thoughts which I\nsuspected were in him; but I found everything he said was so honest and\nso innocent, that I could find nothing to nourish my suspicion; and in\nspite of all my uneasiness, he made me at last entirely his own again;\nnor did he in the least perceive that I was uneasy, and therefore I\ncould not suspect him of deceit.\nOne day, walking up the same hill, but the weather being hazy at sea,\nso that we could not see the continent, I called to him, and said,\n\u201cFriday, do not you wish yourself in your own country, your own\nnation?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cI be much O glad to be at my own nation.\u201d\n\u201cWhat would you do there?\u201d said I. \u201cWould you turn wild again, eat\nmen\u2019s flesh again, and be a savage as you were before?\u201d He looked full\nof concern, and shaking his head, said, \u201cNo, no, Friday tell them to\nlive good; tell them to pray God; tell them to eat corn-bread, cattle\nflesh, milk; no eat man again.\u201d \u201cWhy, then,\u201d said I to him, \u201cthey will\nkill you.\u201d He looked grave at that, and then said, \u201cNo, no, they no\nkill me, they willing love learn.\u201d He meant by this, they would be\nwilling to learn. He added, they learned much of the bearded mans that\ncame in the boat. Then I asked him if he would go back to them. He\nsmiled at that, and told me that he could not swim so far. I told him I\nwould make a canoe for him. He told me he would go if I would go with\nhim. \u201cI go!\u201d says I; \u201cwhy, they will eat me if I come there.\u201d \u201cNo, no,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cme make they no eat you; me make they much love you.\u201d He\nmeant, he would tell them how I had killed his enemies, and saved his\nlife, and so he would make them love me. Then he told me, as well as he\ncould, how kind they were to seventeen white men, or bearded men, as he\ncalled them who came on shore there in distress.\nFrom this time, I confess, I had a mind to venture over, and see if I\ncould possibly join with those bearded men, who I made no doubt were\nSpaniards and Portuguese; not doubting but, if I could, we might find\nsome method to escape from thence, being upon the continent, and a good\ncompany together, better than I could from an island forty miles off\nthe shore, alone and without help. So, after some days, I took Friday\nto work again by way of discourse, and told him I would give him a boat\nto go back to his own nation; and, accordingly, I carried him to my\nfrigate, which lay on the other side of the island, and having cleared\nit of water (for I always kept it sunk in water), I brought it out,\nshowed it him, and we both went into it. I found he was a most\ndexterous fellow at managing it, and would make it go almost as swift\nagain as I could. So when he was in, I said to him, \u201cWell, now, Friday,\nshall we go to your nation?\u201d He looked very dull at my saying so; which\nit seems was because he thought the boat was too small to go so far. I\nthen told him I had a bigger; so the next day I went to the place where\nthe first boat lay which I had made, but which I could not get into the\nwater. He said that was big enough; but then, as I had taken no care of\nit, and it had lain two or three and twenty years there, the sun had so\nsplit and dried it, that it was rotten. Friday told me such a boat\nwould do very well, and would carry \u201cmuch enough vittle, drink, bread;\u201d\nthis was his way of talking.\nCHAPTER XVI. RESCUE OF PRISONERS FROM CANNIBALS\nUpon the whole, I was by this time so fixed upon my design of going\nover with him to the continent that I told him we would go and make one\nas big as that, and he should go home in it. He answered not one word,\nbut looked very grave and sad. I asked him what was the matter with\nhim. He asked me again, \u201cWhy you angry mad with Friday?\u2014what me done?\u201d\nI asked him what he meant. I told him I was not angry with him at all.\n\u201cNo angry!\u201d says he, repeating the words several times; \u201cwhy send\nFriday home away to my nation?\u201d \u201cWhy,\u201d says I, \u201cFriday, did not you say\nyou wished you were there?\u201d \u201cYes, yes,\u201d says he, \u201cwish we both there;\nno wish Friday there, no master there.\u201d In a word, he would not think\nof going there without me. \u201cI go there, Friday?\u201d says I; \u201cwhat shall I\ndo there?\u201d He turned very quick upon me at this. \u201cYou do great deal\nmuch good,\u201d says he; \u201cyou teach wild mans be good, sober, tame mans;\nyou tell them know God, pray God, and live new life.\u201d \u201cAlas, Friday!\u201d\nsays I, \u201cthou knowest not what thou sayest; I am but an ignorant man\nmyself.\u201d \u201cYes, yes,\u201d says he, \u201cyou teachee me good, you teachee them\ngood.\u201d \u201cNo, no, Friday,\u201d says I, \u201cyou shall go without me; leave me\nhere to live by myself, as I did before.\u201d He looked confused again at\nthat word; and running to one of the hatchets which he used to wear, he\ntakes it up hastily, and gives it to me. \u201cWhat must I do with this?\u201d\nsays I to him. \u201cYou take kill Friday,\u201d says he. \u201cWhat must kill you\nfor?\u201d said I again. He returns very quick\u2014\u201cWhat you send Friday away\nfor? Take kill Friday, no send Friday away.\u201d This he spoke so earnestly\nthat I saw tears stand in his eyes. In a word, I so plainly discovered\nthe utmost affection in him to me, and a firm resolution in him, that I\ntold him then and often after, that I would never send him away from me\nif he was willing to stay with me.\nUpon the whole, as I found by all his discourse a settled affection to\nme, and that nothing could part him from me, so I found all the\nfoundation of his desire to go to his own country was laid in his\nardent affection to the people, and his hopes of my doing them good; a\nthing which, as I had no notion of myself, so I had not the least\nthought or intention, or desire of undertaking it. But still I found a\nstrong inclination to attempting my escape, founded on the supposition\ngathered from the discourse, that there were seventeen bearded men\nthere; and therefore, without any more delay, I went to work with\nFriday to find out a great tree proper to fell, and make a large\nperiagua, or canoe, to undertake the voyage. There were trees enough in\nthe island to have built a little fleet, not of periaguas or canoes,\nbut even of good, large vessels; but the main thing I looked at was, to\nget one so near the water that we might launch it when it was made, to\navoid the mistake I committed at first. At last Friday pitched upon a\ntree; for I found he knew much better than I what kind of wood was\nfittest for it; nor can I tell to this day what wood to call the tree\nwe cut down, except that it was very like the tree we call fustic, or\nbetween that and the Nicaragua wood, for it was much of the same colour\nand smell. Friday wished to burn the hollow or cavity of this tree out,\nto make it for a boat, but I showed him how to cut it with tools;\nwhich, after I had showed him how to use, he did very handily; and in\nabout a month\u2019s hard labour we finished it and made it very handsome;\nespecially when, with our axes, which I showed him how to handle, we\ncut and hewed the outside into the true shape of a boat. After this,\nhowever, it cost us near a fortnight\u2019s time to get her along, as it\nwere inch by inch, upon great rollers into the water; but when she was\nin, she would have carried twenty men with great ease.\nWhen she was in the water, though she was so big, it amazed me to see\nwith what dexterity and how swift my man Friday could manage her, turn\nher, and paddle her along. So I asked him if he would, and if we might\nventure over in her. \u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cwe venture over in her very well,\nthough great blow wind.\u201d However I had a further design that he knew\nnothing of, and that was, to make a mast and a sail, and to fit her\nwith an anchor and cable. As to a mast, that was easy enough to get; so\nI pitched upon a straight young cedar-tree, which I found near the\nplace, and which there were great plenty of in the island, and I set\nFriday to work to cut it down, and gave him directions how to shape and\norder it. But as to the sail, that was my particular care. I knew I had\nold sails, or rather pieces of old sails, enough; but as I had had them\nnow six-and-twenty years by me, and had not been very careful to\npreserve them, not imagining that I should ever have this kind of use\nfor them, I did not doubt but they were all rotten; and, indeed, most\nof them were so. However, I found two pieces which appeared pretty\ngood, and with these I went to work; and with a great deal of pains,\nand awkward stitching, you may be sure, for want of needles, I at\nlength made a three-cornered ugly thing, like what we call in England a\nshoulder-of-mutton sail, to go with a boom at bottom, and a little\nshort sprit at the top, such as usually our ships\u2019 long-boats sail\nwith, and such as I best knew how to manage, as it was such a one as I\nhad to the boat in which I made my escape from Barbary, as related in\nthe first part of my story.\nI was near two months performing this last work, viz. rigging and\nfitting my masts and sails; for I finished them very complete, making a\nsmall stay, and a sail, or foresail, to it, to assist if we should turn\nto windward; and, what was more than all, I fixed a rudder to the stern\nof her to steer with. I was but a bungling shipwright, yet as I knew\nthe usefulness and even necessity of such a thing, I applied myself\nwith so much pains to do it, that at last I brought it to pass; though,\nconsidering the many dull contrivances I had for it that failed, I\nthink it cost me almost as much labour as making the boat.\nAfter all this was done, I had my man Friday to teach as to what\nbelonged to the navigation of my boat; though he knew very well how to\npaddle a canoe, he knew nothing of what belonged to a sail and a\nrudder; and was the most amazed when he saw me work the boat to and\nagain in the sea by the rudder, and how the sail jibed, and filled this\nway or that way as the course we sailed changed; I say when he saw this\nhe stood like one astonished and amazed. However, with a little use, I\nmade all these things familiar to him, and he became an expert sailor,\nexcept that of the compass I could make him understand very little. On\nthe other hand, as there was very little cloudy weather, and seldom or\nnever any fogs in those parts, there was the less occasion for a\ncompass, seeing the stars were always to be seen by night, and the\nshore by day, except in the rainy seasons, and then nobody cared to\nstir abroad either by land or sea.\nI was now entered on the seven-and-twentieth year of my captivity in\nthis place; though the three last years that I had this creature with\nme ought rather to be left out of the account, my habitation being\nquite of another kind than in all the rest of the time. I kept the\nanniversary of my landing here with the same thankfulness to God for\nHis mercies as at first: and if I had such cause of acknowledgment at\nfirst, I had much more so now, having such additional testimonies of\nthe care of Providence over me, and the great hopes I had of being\neffectually and speedily delivered; for I had an invincible impression\nupon my thoughts that my deliverance was at hand, and that I should not\nbe another year in this place. I went on, however, with my husbandry;\ndigging, planting, and fencing as usual. I gathered and cured my\ngrapes, and did every necessary thing as before.\nThe rainy season was in the meantime upon me, when I kept more within\ndoors than at other times. We had stowed our new vessel as secure as we\ncould, bringing her up into the creek, where, as I said in the\nbeginning, I landed my rafts from the ship; and hauling her up to the\nshore at high-water mark, I made my man Friday dig a little dock, just\nbig enough to hold her, and just deep enough to give her water enough\nto float in; and then, when the tide was out, we made a strong dam\nacross the end of it, to keep the water out; and so she lay, dry as to\nthe tide from the sea: and to keep the rain off we laid a great many\nboughs of trees, so thick that she was as well thatched as a house; and\nthus we waited for the months of November and December, in which I\ndesigned to make my adventure.\nWhen the settled season began to come in, as the thought of my design\nreturned with the fair weather, I was preparing daily for the voyage.\nAnd the first thing I did was to lay by a certain quantity of\nprovisions, being the stores for our voyage; and intended in a week or\na fortnight\u2019s time to open the dock, and launch out our boat. I was\nbusy one morning upon something of this kind, when I called to Friday,\nand bid him to go to the sea-shore and see if he could find a turtle or\na tortoise, a thing which we generally got once a week, for the sake of\nthe eggs as well as the flesh. Friday had not been long gone when he\ncame running back, and flew over my outer wall or fence, like one that\nfelt not the ground or the steps he set his foot on; and before I had\ntime to speak to him he cries out to me, \u201cO master! O master! O sorrow!\nO bad!\u201d\u2014\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter, Friday?\u201d says I. \u201cO yonder there,\u201d says he,\n\u201cone, two, three canoes; one, two, three!\u201d By this way of speaking I\nconcluded there were six; but on inquiry I found there were but three.\n\u201cWell, Friday,\u201d says I, \u201cdo not be frightened.\u201d So I heartened him up\nas well as I could. However, I saw the poor fellow was most terribly\nscared, for nothing ran in his head but that they were come to look for\nhim, and would cut him in pieces and eat him; and the poor fellow\ntrembled so that I scarcely knew what to do with him. I comforted him\nas well as I could, and told him I was in as much danger as he, and\nthat they would eat me as well as him. \u201cBut,\u201d says I, \u201cFriday, we must\nresolve to fight them. Can you fight, Friday?\u201d \u201cMe shoot,\u201d says he,\n\u201cbut there come many great number.\u201d \u201cNo matter for that,\u201d said I again;\n\u201cour guns will fright them that we do not kill.\u201d So I asked him\nwhether, if I resolved to defend him, he would defend me, and stand by\nme, and do just as I bid him. He said, \u201cMe die when you bid die,\nmaster.\u201d So I went and fetched a good dram of rum and gave him; for I\nhad been so good a husband of my rum that I had a great deal left. When\nwe had drunk it, I made him take the two fowling-pieces, which we\nalways carried, and loaded them with large swan-shot, as big as small\npistol-bullets. Then I took four muskets, and loaded them with two\nslugs and five small bullets each; and my two pistols I loaded with a\nbrace of bullets each. I hung my great sword, as usual, naked by my\nside, and gave Friday his hatchet. When I had thus prepared myself, I\ntook my perspective glass, and went up to the side of the hill, to see\nwhat I could discover; and I found quickly by my glass that there were\none-and-twenty savages, three prisoners, and three canoes; and that\ntheir whole business seemed to be the triumphant banquet upon these\nthree human bodies: a barbarous feast, indeed! but nothing more than,\nas I had observed, was usual with them. I observed also that they had\nlanded, not where they had done when Friday made his escape, but nearer\nto my creek, where the shore was low, and where a thick wood came\nalmost close down to the sea. This, with the abhorrence of the inhuman\nerrand these wretches came about, filled me with such indignation that\nI came down again to Friday, and told him I was resolved to go down to\nthem and kill them all; and asked him if he would stand by me. He had\nnow got over his fright, and his spirits being a little raised with the\ndram I had given him, he was very cheerful, and told me, as before, he\nwould die when I bid die.\nIn this fit of fury I divided the arms which I had charged, as before,\nbetween us; I gave Friday one pistol to stick in his girdle, and three\nguns upon his shoulder, and I took one pistol and the other three guns\nmyself; and in this posture we marched out. I took a small bottle of\nrum in my pocket, and gave Friday a large bag with more powder and\nbullets; and as to orders, I charged him to keep close behind me, and\nnot to stir, or shoot, or do anything till I bid him, and in the\nmeantime not to speak a word. In this posture I fetched a compass to my\nright hand of near a mile, as well to get over the creek as to get into\nthe wood, so that I could come within shot of them before I should be\ndiscovered, which I had seen by my glass it was easy to do.\nWhile I was making this march, my former thoughts returning, I began to\nabate my resolution: I do not mean that I entertained any fear of their\nnumber, for as they were naked, unarmed wretches, it is certain I was\nsuperior to them\u2014nay, though I had been alone. But it occurred to my\nthoughts, what call, what occasion, much less what necessity I was in\nto go and dip my hands in blood, to attack people who had neither done\nor intended me any wrong? who, as to me, were innocent, and whose\nbarbarous customs were their own disaster, being in them a token,\nindeed, of God\u2019s having left them, with the other nations of that part\nof the world, to such stupidity, and to such inhuman courses, but did\nnot call me to take upon me to be a judge of their actions, much less\nan executioner of His justice\u2014that whenever He thought fit He would\ntake the cause into His own hands, and by national vengeance punish\nthem as a people for national crimes, but that, in the meantime, it was\nnone of my business\u2014that it was true Friday might justify it, because\nhe was a declared enemy and in a state of war with those very\nparticular people, and it was lawful for him to attack them\u2014but I could\nnot say the same with regard to myself. These things were so warmly\npressed upon my thoughts all the way as I went, that I resolved I would\nonly go and place myself near them that I might observe their barbarous\nfeast, and that I would act then as God should direct; but that unless\nsomething offered that was more a call to me than yet I knew of, I\nwould not meddle with them.\nWith this resolution I entered the wood, and, with all possible\nwariness and silence, Friday following close at my heels, I marched\ntill I came to the skirts of the wood on the side which was next to\nthem, only that one corner of the wood lay between me and them. Here I\ncalled softly to Friday, and showing him a great tree which was just at\nthe corner of the wood, I bade him go to the tree, and bring me word if\nhe could see there plainly what they were doing. He did so, and came\nimmediately back to me, and told me they might be plainly viewed\nthere\u2014that they were all about their fire, eating the flesh of one of\ntheir prisoners, and that another lay bound upon the sand a little from\nthem, whom he said they would kill next; and this fired the very soul\nwithin me. He told me it was not one of their nation, but one of the\nbearded men he had told me of, that came to their country in the boat.\nI was filled with horror at the very naming of the white bearded man;\nand going to the tree, I saw plainly by my glass a white man, who lay\nupon the beach of the sea with his hands and his feet tied with flags,\nor things like rushes, and that he was an European, and had clothes on.\nThere was another tree and a little thicket beyond it, about fifty\nyards nearer to them than the place where I was, which, by going a\nlittle way about, I saw I might come at undiscovered, and that then I\nshould be within half a shot of them; so I withheld my passion, though\nI was indeed enraged to the highest degree; and going back about twenty\npaces, I got behind some bushes, which held all the way till I came to\nthe other tree, and then came to a little rising ground, which gave me\na full view of them at the distance of about eighty yards.\nI had now not a moment to lose, for nineteen of the dreadful wretches\nsat upon the ground, all close huddled together, and had just sent the\nother two to butcher the poor Christian, and bring him perhaps limb by\nlimb to their fire, and they were stooping down to untie the bands at\nhis feet. I turned to Friday. \u201cNow, Friday,\u201d said I, \u201cdo as I bid\nthee.\u201d Friday said he would. \u201cThen, Friday,\u201d says I, \u201cdo exactly as you\nsee me do; fail in nothing.\u201d So I set down one of the muskets and the\nfowling-piece upon the ground, and Friday did the like by his, and with\nthe other musket I took my aim at the savages, bidding him to do the\nlike; then asking him if he was ready, he said, \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cThen fire at\nthem,\u201d said I; and at the same moment I fired also.\nFriday took his aim so much better than I, that on the side that he\nshot he killed two of them, and wounded three more; and on my side I\nkilled one, and wounded two. They were, you may be sure, in a dreadful\nconsternation: and all of them that were not hurt jumped upon their\nfeet, but did not immediately know which way to run, or which way to\nlook, for they knew not from whence their destruction came. Friday kept\nhis eyes close upon me, that, as I had bid him, he might observe what I\ndid; so, as soon as the first shot was made, I threw down the piece,\nand took up the fowling-piece, and Friday did the like; he saw me cock\nand present; he did the same again. \u201cAre you ready, Friday?\u201d said I.\n\u201cYes,\u201d says he. \u201cLet fly, then,\u201d says I, \u201cin the name of God!\u201d and with\nthat I fired again among the amazed wretches, and so did Friday; and as\nour pieces were now loaded with what I call swan-shot, or small\npistol-bullets, we found only two drop; but so many were wounded that\nthey ran about yelling and screaming like mad creatures, all bloody,\nand most of them miserably wounded; whereof three more fell quickly\nafter, though not quite dead.\n\u201cNow, Friday,\u201d says I, laying down the discharged pieces, and taking up\nthe musket which was yet loaded, \u201cfollow me,\u201d which he did with a great\ndeal of courage; upon which I rushed out of the wood and showed myself,\nand Friday close at my foot. As soon as I perceived they saw me, I\nshouted as loud as I could, and bade Friday do so too, and running as\nfast as I could, which, by the way, was not very fast, being loaded\nwith arms as I was, I made directly towards the poor victim, who was,\nas I said, lying upon the beach or shore, between the place where they\nsat and the sea. The two butchers who were just going to work with him\nhad left him at the surprise of our first fire, and fled in a terrible\nfright to the seaside, and had jumped into a canoe, and three more of\nthe rest made the same way. I turned to Friday, and bade him step\nforwards and fire at them; he understood me immediately, and running\nabout forty yards, to be nearer them, he shot at them; and I thought he\nhad killed them all, for I saw them all fall of a heap into the boat,\nthough I saw two of them up again quickly; however, he killed two of\nthem, and wounded the third, so that he lay down in the bottom of the\nboat as if he had been dead.\nWhile my man Friday fired at them, I pulled out my knife and cut the\nflags that bound the poor victim; and loosing his hands and feet, I\nlifted him up, and asked him in the Portuguese tongue what he was. He\nanswered in Latin, Christianus; but was so weak and faint that he could\nscarce stand or speak. I took my bottle out of my pocket and gave it\nhim, making signs that he should drink, which he did; and I gave him a\npiece of bread, which he ate. Then I asked him what countryman he was:\nand he said, Espagniole; and being a little recovered, let me know, by\nall the signs he could possibly make, how much he was in my debt for\nhis deliverance. \u201cSeignior,\u201d said I, with as much Spanish as I could\nmake up, \u201cwe will talk afterwards, but we must fight now: if you have\nany strength left, take this pistol and sword, and lay about you.\u201d He\ntook them very thankfully; and no sooner had he the arms in his hands,\nbut, as if they had put new vigour into him, he flew upon his murderers\nlike a fury, and had cut two of them in pieces in an instant; for the\ntruth is, as the whole was a surprise to them, so the poor creatures\nwere so much frightened with the noise of our pieces that they fell\ndown for mere amazement and fear, and had no more power to attempt\ntheir own escape than their flesh had to resist our shot; and that was\nthe case of those five that Friday shot at in the boat; for as three of\nthem fell with the hurt they received, so the other two fell with the\nfright.\nI kept my piece in my hand still without firing, being willing to keep\nmy charge ready, because I had given the Spaniard my pistol and sword:\nso I called to Friday, and bade him run up to the tree from whence we\nfirst fired, and fetch the arms which lay there that had been\ndischarged, which he did with great swiftness; and then giving him my\nmusket, I sat down myself to load all the rest again, and bade them\ncome to me when they wanted. While I was loading these pieces, there\nhappened a fierce engagement between the Spaniard and one of the\nsavages, who made at him with one of their great wooden swords, the\nweapon that was to have killed him before, if I had not prevented it.\nThe Spaniard, who was as bold and brave as could be imagined, though\nweak, had fought the Indian a good while, and had cut two great wounds\non his head; but the savage being a stout, lusty fellow, closing in\nwith him, had thrown him down, being faint, and was wringing my sword\nout of his hand; when the Spaniard, though undermost, wisely quitting\nthe sword, drew the pistol from his girdle, shot the savage through the\nbody, and killed him upon the spot, before I, who was running to help\nhim, could come near him.\nFriday, being now left to his liberty, pursued the flying wretches,\nwith no weapon in his hand but his hatchet: and with that he despatched\nthose three who as I said before, were wounded at first, and fallen,\nand all the rest he could come up with: and the Spaniard coming to me\nfor a gun, I gave him one of the fowling-pieces, with which he pursued\ntwo of the savages, and wounded them both; but as he was not able to\nrun, they both got from him into the wood, where Friday pursued them,\nand killed one of them, but the other was too nimble for him; and\nthough he was wounded, yet had plunged himself into the sea, and swam\nwith all his might off to those two who were left in the canoe; which\nthree in the canoe, with one wounded, that we knew not whether he died\nor no, were all that escaped our hands of one-and-twenty. The account\nof the whole is as follows: Three killed at our first shot from the\ntree; two killed at the next shot; two killed by Friday in the boat;\ntwo killed by Friday of those at first wounded; one killed by Friday in\nthe wood; three killed by the Spaniard; four killed, being found\ndropped here and there, of the wounds, or killed by Friday in his chase\nof them; four escaped in the boat, whereof one wounded, if not\ndead\u2014twenty-one in all.\nThose that were in the canoe worked hard to get out of gun-shot, and\nthough Friday made two or three shots at them, I did not find that he\nhit any of them. Friday would fain have had me take one of their\ncanoes, and pursue them; and indeed I was very anxious about their\nescape, lest, carrying the news home to their people, they should come\nback perhaps with two or three hundred of the canoes and devour us by\nmere multitude; so I consented to pursue them by sea, and running to\none of their canoes, I jumped in and bade Friday follow me: but when I\nwas in the canoe I was surprised to find another poor creature lie\nthere, bound hand and foot, as the Spaniard was, for the slaughter, and\nalmost dead with fear, not knowing what was the matter; for he had not\nbeen able to look up over the side of the boat, he was tied so hard\nneck and heels, and had been tied so long that he had really but little\nlife in him.\nI immediately cut the twisted flags or rushes which they had bound him\nwith, and would have helped him up; but he could not stand or speak,\nbut groaned most piteously, believing, it seems, still, that he was\nonly unbound in order to be killed. When Friday came to him I bade him\nspeak to him, and tell him of his deliverance; and pulling out my\nbottle, made him give the poor wretch a dram, which, with the news of\nhis being delivered, revived him, and he sat up in the boat. But when\nFriday came to hear him speak, and look in his face, it would have\nmoved any one to tears to have seen how Friday kissed him, embraced\nhim, hugged him, cried, laughed, hallooed, jumped about, danced, sang;\nthen cried again, wrung his hands, beat his own face and head; and then\nsang and jumped about again like a distracted creature. It was a good\nwhile before I could make him speak to me or tell me what was the\nmatter; but when he came a little to himself he told me that it was his\nfather.\nIt is not easy for me to express how it moved me to see what ecstasy\nand filial affection had worked in this poor savage at the sight of his\nfather, and of his being delivered from death; nor indeed can I\ndescribe half the extravagances of his affection after this: for he\nwent into the boat and out of the boat a great many times: when he went\nin to him he would sit down by him, open his breast, and hold his\nfather\u2019s head close to his bosom for many minutes together, to nourish\nit; then he took his arms and ankles, which were numbed and stiff with\nthe binding, and chafed and rubbed them with his hands; and I,\nperceiving what the case was, gave him some rum out of my bottle to rub\nthem with, which did them a great deal of good.\nThis affair put an end to our pursuit of the canoe with the other\nsavages, who were now almost out of sight; and it was happy for us that\nwe did not, for it blew so hard within two hours after, and before they\ncould be got a quarter of their way, and continued blowing so hard all\nnight, and that from the north-west, which was against them, that I\ncould not suppose their boat could live, or that they ever reached\ntheir own coast.\nBut to return to Friday; he was so busy about his father that I could\nnot find in my heart to take him off for some time; but after I thought\nhe could leave him a little, I called him to me, and he came jumping\nand laughing, and pleased to the highest extreme: then I asked him if\nhe had given his father any bread. He shook his head, and said, \u201cNone;\nugly dog eat all up self.\u201d I then gave him a cake of bread out of a\nlittle pouch I carried on purpose; I also gave him a dram for himself;\nbut he would not taste it, but carried it to his father. I had in my\npocket two or three bunches of raisins, so I gave him a handful of them\nfor his father. He had no sooner given his father these raisins but I\nsaw him come out of the boat, and run away as if he had been bewitched,\nfor he was the swiftest fellow on his feet that ever I saw: I say, he\nran at such a rate that he was out of sight, as it were, in an instant;\nand though I called, and hallooed out too after him, it was all\none\u2014away he went; and in a quarter of an hour I saw him come back\nagain, though not so fast as he went; and as he came nearer I found his\npace slacker, because he had something in his hand. When he came up to\nme I found he had been quite home for an earthen jug or pot, to bring\nhis father some fresh water, and that he had got two more cakes or\nloaves of bread: the bread he gave me, but the water he carried to his\nfather; however, as I was very thirsty too, I took a little of it. The\nwater revived his father more than all the rum or spirits I had given\nhim, for he was fainting with thirst.\nWhen his father had drunk, I called to him to know if there was any\nwater left. He said, \u201cYes\u201d; and I bade him give it to the poor\nSpaniard, who was in as much want of it as his father; and I sent one\nof the cakes that Friday brought to the Spaniard too, who was indeed\nvery weak, and was reposing himself upon a green place under the shade\nof a tree; and whose limbs were also very stiff, and very much swelled\nwith the rude bandage he had been tied with. When I saw that upon\nFriday\u2019s coming to him with the water he sat up and drank, and took the\nbread and began to eat, I went to him and gave him a handful of\nraisins. He looked up in my face with all the tokens of gratitude and\nthankfulness that could appear in any countenance; but was so weak,\nnotwithstanding he had so exerted himself in the fight, that he could\nnot stand up upon his feet\u2014he tried to do it two or three times, but\nwas really not able, his ankles were so swelled and so painful to him;\nso I bade him sit still, and caused Friday to rub his ankles, and bathe\nthem with rum, as he had done his father\u2019s.\nI observed the poor affectionate creature, every two minutes, or\nperhaps less, all the while he was here, turn his head about to see if\nhis father was in the same place and posture as he left him sitting;\nand at last he found he was not to be seen; at which he started up,\nand, without speaking a word, flew with that swiftness to him that one\ncould scarce perceive his feet to touch the ground as he went; but when\nhe came, he only found he had laid himself down to ease his limbs, so\nFriday came back to me presently; and then I spoke to the Spaniard to\nlet Friday help him up if he could, and lead him to the boat, and then\nhe should carry him to our dwelling, where I would take care of him.\nBut Friday, a lusty, strong fellow, took the Spaniard upon his back,\nand carried him away to the boat, and set him down softly upon the side\nor gunnel of the canoe, with his feet in the inside of it; and then\nlifting him quite in, he set him close to his father; and presently\nstepping out again, launched the boat off, and paddled it along the\nshore faster than I could walk, though the wind blew pretty hard too;\nso he brought them both safe into our creek, and leaving them in the\nboat, ran away to fetch the other canoe. As he passed me I spoke to\nhim, and asked him whither he went. He told me, \u201cGo fetch more boat;\u201d\nso away he went like the wind, for sure never man or horse ran like\nhim; and he had the other canoe in the creek almost as soon as I got to\nit by land; so he wafted me over, and then went to help our new guests\nout of the boat, which he did; but they were neither of them able to\nwalk; so that poor Friday knew not what to do.\nTo remedy this, I went to work in my thought, and calling to Friday to\nbid them sit down on the bank while he came to me, I soon made a kind\nof hand-barrow to lay them on, and Friday and I carried them both up\ntogether upon it between us.\nBut when we got them to the outside of our wall, or fortification, we\nwere at a worse loss than before, for it was impossible to get them\nover, and I was resolved not to break it down; so I set to work again,\nand Friday and I, in about two hours\u2019 time, made a very handsome tent,\ncovered with old sails, and above that with boughs of trees, being in\nthe space without our outward fence and between that and the grove of\nyoung wood which I had planted; and here we made them two beds of such\nthings as I had\u2014viz. of good rice-straw, with blankets laid upon it to\nlie on, and another to cover them, on each bed.\nMy island was now peopled, and I thought myself very rich in subjects;\nand it was a merry reflection, which I frequently made, how like a king\nI looked. First of all, the whole country was my own property, so that\nI had an undoubted right of dominion. Secondly, my people were\nperfectly subjected\u2014I was absolutely lord and lawgiver\u2014they all owed\ntheir lives to me, and were ready to lay down their lives, if there had\nbeen occasion for it, for me. It was remarkable, too, I had but three\nsubjects, and they were of three different religions\u2014my man Friday was\na Protestant, his father was a Pagan and a cannibal, and the Spaniard\nwas a Papist. However, I allowed liberty of conscience throughout my\ndominions. But this is by the way.\nAs soon as I had secured my two weak, rescued prisoners, and given them\nshelter, and a place to rest them upon, I began to think of making some\nprovision for them; and the first thing I did, I ordered Friday to take\na yearling goat, betwixt a kid and a goat, out of my particular flock,\nto be killed; when I cut off the hinder-quarter, and chopping it into\nsmall pieces, I set Friday to work to boiling and stewing, and made\nthem a very good dish, I assure you, of flesh and broth; and as I\ncooked it without doors, for I made no fire within my inner wall, so I\ncarried it all into the new tent, and having set a table there for\nthem, I sat down, and ate my own dinner also with them, and, as well as\nI could, cheered them and encouraged them. Friday was my interpreter,\nespecially to his father, and, indeed, to the Spaniard too; for the\nSpaniard spoke the language of the savages pretty well.\nAfter we had dined, or rather supped, I ordered Friday to take one of\nthe canoes, and go and fetch our muskets and other firearms, which, for\nwant of time, we had left upon the place of battle; and the next day I\nordered him to go and bury the dead bodies of the savages, which lay\nopen to the sun, and would presently be offensive. I also ordered him\nto bury the horrid remains of their barbarous feast, which I could not\nthink of doing myself; nay, I could not bear to see them if I went that\nway; all which he punctually performed, and effaced the very appearance\nof the savages being there; so that when I went again, I could scarce\nknow where it was, otherwise than by the corner of the wood pointing to\nthe place.\nI then began to enter into a little conversation with my two new\nsubjects; and, first, I set Friday to inquire of his father what he\nthought of the escape of the savages in that canoe, and whether we\nmight expect a return of them, with a power too great for us to resist.\nHis first opinion was, that the savages in the boat never could live\nout the storm which blew that night they went off, but must of\nnecessity be drowned, or driven south to those other shores, where they\nwere as sure to be devoured as they were to be drowned if they were\ncast away; but, as to what they would do if they came safe on shore, he\nsaid he knew not; but it was his opinion that they were so dreadfully\nfrightened with the manner of their being attacked, the noise, and the\nfire, that he believed they would tell the people they were all killed\nby thunder and lightning, not by the hand of man; and that the two\nwhich appeared\u2014viz. Friday and I\u2014were two heavenly spirits, or furies,\ncome down to destroy them, and not men with weapons. This, he said, he\nknew; because he heard them all cry out so, in their language, one to\nanother; for it was impossible for them to conceive that a man could\ndart fire, and speak thunder, and kill at a distance, without lifting\nup the hand, as was done now: and this old savage was in the right;\nfor, as I understood since, by other hands, the savages never attempted\nto go over to the island afterwards, they were so terrified with the\naccounts given by those four men (for it seems they did escape the\nsea), that they believed whoever went to that enchanted island would be\ndestroyed with fire from the gods. This, however, I knew not; and\ntherefore was under continual apprehensions for a good while, and kept\nalways upon my guard, with all my army: for, as there were now four of\nus, I would have ventured upon a hundred of them, fairly in the open\nfield, at any time.\nCHAPTER XVII. VISIT OF MUTINEERS\nIn a little time, however, no more canoes appearing, the fear of their\ncoming wore off; and I began to take my former thoughts of a voyage to\nthe main into consideration; being likewise assured by Friday\u2019s father\nthat I might depend upon good usage from their nation, on his account,\nif I would go. But my thoughts were a little suspended when I had a\nserious discourse with the Spaniard, and when I understood that there\nwere sixteen more of his countrymen and Portuguese, who having been\ncast away and made their escape to that side, lived there at peace,\nindeed, with the savages, but were very sore put to it for necessaries,\nand, indeed, for life. I asked him all the particulars of their voyage,\nand found they were a Spanish ship, bound from the Rio de la Plata to\nthe Havanna, being directed to leave their loading there, which was\nchiefly hides and silver, and to bring back what European goods they\ncould meet with there; that they had five Portuguese seamen on board,\nwhom they took out of another wreck; that five of their own men were\ndrowned when first the ship was lost, and that these escaped through\ninfinite dangers and hazards, and arrived, almost starved, on the\ncannibal coast, where they expected to have been devoured every moment.\nHe told me they had some arms with them, but they were perfectly\nuseless, for that they had neither powder nor ball, the washing of the\nsea having spoiled all their powder but a little, which they used at\ntheir first landing to provide themselves with some food.\nI asked him what he thought would become of them there, and if they had\nformed any design of making their escape. He said they had many\nconsultations about it; but that having neither vessel nor tools to\nbuild one, nor provisions of any kind, their councils always ended in\ntears and despair. I asked him how he thought they would receive a\nproposal from me, which might tend towards an escape; and whether, if\nthey were all here, it might not be done. I told him with freedom, I\nfeared mostly their treachery and ill-usage of me, if I put my life in\ntheir hands; for that gratitude was no inherent virtue in the nature of\nman, nor did men always square their dealings by the obligations they\nhad received so much as they did by the advantages they expected. I\ntold him it would be very hard that I should be made the instrument of\ntheir deliverance, and that they should afterwards make me their\nprisoner in New Spain, where an Englishman was certain to be made a\nsacrifice, what necessity or what accident soever brought him thither;\nand that I had rather be delivered up to the savages, and be devoured\nalive, than fall into the merciless claws of the priests, and be\ncarried into the Inquisition. I added that, otherwise, I was persuaded,\nif they were all here, we might, with so many hands, build a barque\nlarge enough to carry us all away, either to the Brazils southward, or\nto the islands or Spanish coast northward; but that if, in requital,\nthey should, when I had put weapons into their hands, carry me by force\namong their own people, I might be ill-used for my kindness to them,\nand make my case worse than it was before.\nHe answered, with a great deal of candour and ingenuousness, that their\ncondition was so miserable, and that they were so sensible of it, that\nhe believed they would abhor the thought of using any man unkindly that\nshould contribute to their deliverance; and that, if I pleased, he\nwould go to them with the old man, and discourse with them about it,\nand return again and bring me their answer; that he would make\nconditions with them upon their solemn oath, that they should be\nabsolutely under my direction as their commander and captain; and they\nshould swear upon the holy sacraments and gospel to be true to me, and\ngo to such Christian country as I should agree to, and no other; and to\nbe directed wholly and absolutely by my orders till they were landed\nsafely in such country as I intended, and that he would bring a\ncontract from them, under their hands, for that purpose. Then he told\nme he would first swear to me himself that he would never stir from me\nas long as he lived till I gave him orders; and that he would take my\nside to the last drop of his blood, if there should happen the least\nbreach of faith among his countrymen. He told me they were all of them\nvery civil, honest men, and they were under the greatest distress\nimaginable, having neither weapons nor clothes, nor any food, but at\nthe mercy and discretion of the savages; out of all hopes of ever\nreturning to their own country; and that he was sure, if I would\nundertake their relief, they would live and die by me.\nUpon these assurances, I resolved to venture to relieve them, if\npossible, and to send the old savage and this Spaniard over to them to\ntreat. But when we had got all things in readiness to go, the Spaniard\nhimself started an objection, which had so much prudence in it on one\nhand, and so much sincerity on the other hand, that I could not but be\nvery well satisfied in it; and, by his advice, put off the deliverance\nof his comrades for at least half a year. The case was thus: he had\nbeen with us now about a month, during which time I had let him see in\nwhat manner I had provided, with the assistance of Providence, for my\nsupport; and he saw evidently what stock of corn and rice I had laid\nup; which, though it was more than sufficient for myself, yet it was\nnot sufficient, without good husbandry, for my family, now it was\nincreased to four; but much less would it be sufficient if his\ncountrymen, who were, as he said, sixteen, still alive, should come\nover; and least of all would it be sufficient to victual our vessel, if\nwe should build one, for a voyage to any of the Christian colonies of\nAmerica; so he told me he thought it would be more advisable to let him\nand the other two dig and cultivate some more land, as much as I could\nspare seed to sow, and that we should wait another harvest, that we\nmight have a supply of corn for his countrymen, when they should come;\nfor want might be a temptation to them to disagree, or not to think\nthemselves delivered, otherwise than out of one difficulty into\nanother. \u201cYou know,\u201d says he, \u201cthe children of Israel, though they\nrejoiced at first for their being delivered out of Egypt, yet rebelled\neven against God Himself, that delivered them, when they came to want\nbread in the wilderness.\u201d\nHis caution was so seasonable, and his advice so good, that I could not\nbut be very well pleased with his proposal, as well as I was satisfied\nwith his fidelity; so we fell to digging, all four of us, as well as\nthe wooden tools we were furnished with permitted; and in about a\nmonth\u2019s time, by the end of which it was seed-time, we had got as much\nland cured and trimmed up as we sowed two-and-twenty bushels of barley\non, and sixteen jars of rice, which was, in short, all the seed we had\nto spare: indeed, we left ourselves barely sufficient, for our own food\nfor the six months that we had to expect our crop; that is to say\nreckoning from the time we set our seed aside for sowing; for it is not\nto be supposed it is six months in the ground in that country.\nHaving now society enough, and our numbers being sufficient to put us\nout of fear of the savages, if they had come, unless their number had\nbeen very great, we went freely all over the island, whenever we found\noccasion; and as we had our escape or deliverance upon our thoughts, it\nwas impossible, at least for me, to have the means of it out of mine.\nFor this purpose I marked out several trees, which I thought fit for\nour work, and I set Friday and his father to cut them down; and then I\ncaused the Spaniard, to whom I imparted my thoughts on that affair, to\noversee and direct their work. I showed them with what indefatigable\npains I had hewed a large tree into single planks, and I caused them to\ndo the like, till they made about a dozen large planks, of good oak,\nnear two feet broad, thirty-five feet long, and from two inches to four\ninches thick: what prodigious labour it took up any one may imagine.\nAt the same time I contrived to increase my little flock of tame goats\nas much as I could; and for this purpose I made Friday and the Spaniard\ngo out one day, and myself with Friday the next day (for we took our\nturns), and by this means we got about twenty young kids to breed up\nwith the rest; for whenever we shot the dam, we saved the kids, and\nadded them to our flock. But above all, the season for curing the\ngrapes coming on, I caused such a prodigious quantity to be hung up in\nthe sun, that, I believe, had we been at Alicant, where the raisins of\nthe sun are cured, we could have filled sixty or eighty barrels; and\nthese, with our bread, formed a great part of our food\u2014very good living\ntoo, I assure you, for they are exceedingly nourishing.\nIt was now harvest, and our crop in good order: it was not the most\nplentiful increase I had seen in the island, but, however, it was\nenough to answer our end; for from twenty-two bushels of barley we\nbrought in and thrashed out above two hundred and twenty bushels; and\nthe like in proportion of the rice; which was store enough for our food\nto the next harvest, though all the sixteen Spaniards had been on shore\nwith me; or, if we had been ready for a voyage, it would very\nplentifully have victualled our ship to have carried us to any part of\nthe world; that is to say, any part of America. When we had thus housed\nand secured our magazine of corn, we fell to work to make more\nwicker-ware, viz. great baskets, in which we kept it; and the Spaniard\nwas very handy and dexterous at this part, and often blamed me that I\ndid not make some things for defence of this kind of work; but I saw no\nneed of it.\nAnd now, having a full supply of food for all the guests I expected, I\ngave the Spaniard leave to go over to the main, to see what he could do\nwith those he had left behind him there. I gave him a strict charge not\nto bring any man who would not first swear in the presence of himself\nand the old savage that he would in no way injure, fight with, or\nattack the person he should find in the island, who was so kind as to\nsend for them in order to their deliverance; but that they would stand\nby him and defend him against all such attempts, and wherever they went\nwould be entirely under and subjected to his command; and that this\nshould be put in writing, and signed in their hands. How they were to\nhave done this, when I knew they had neither pen nor ink, was a\nquestion which we never asked. Under these instructions, the Spaniard\nand the old savage, the father of Friday, went away in one of the\ncanoes which they might be said to have come in, or rather were brought\nin, when they came as prisoners to be devoured by the savages. I gave\neach of them a musket, with a firelock on it, and about eight charges\nof powder and ball, charging them to be very good husbands of both, and\nnot to use either of them but upon urgent occasions.\nThis was a cheerful work, being the first measures used by me in view\nof my deliverance for now twenty-seven years and some days. I gave them\nprovisions of bread and of dried grapes, sufficient for themselves for\nmany days, and sufficient for all the Spaniards\u2014for about eight days\u2019\ntime; and wishing them a good voyage, I saw them go, agreeing with them\nabout a signal they should hang out at their return, by which I should\nknow them again when they came back, at a distance, before they came on\nshore. They went away with a fair gale on the day that the moon was at\nfull, by my account in the month of October; but as for an exact\nreckoning of days, after I had once lost it I could never recover it\nagain; nor had I kept even the number of years so punctually as to be\nsure I was right; though, as it proved when I afterwards examined my\naccount, I found I had kept a true reckoning of years.\nIt was no less than eight days I had waited for them, when a strange\nand unforeseen accident intervened, of which the like has not, perhaps,\nbeen heard of in history. I was fast asleep in my hutch one morning,\nwhen my man Friday came running in to me, and called aloud, \u201cMaster,\nmaster, they are come, they are come!\u201d I jumped up, and regardless of\ndanger I went, as soon as I could get my clothes on, through my little\ngrove, which, by the way, was by this time grown to be a very thick\nwood; I say, regardless of danger I went without my arms, which was not\nmy custom to do; but I was surprised when, turning my eyes to the sea,\nI presently saw a boat at about a league and a half distance, standing\nin for the shore, with a shoulder-of-mutton sail, as they call it, and\nthe wind blowing pretty fair to bring them in: also I observed,\npresently, that they did not come from that side which the shore lay\non, but from the southernmost end of the island. Upon this I called\nFriday in, and bade him lie close, for these were not the people we\nlooked for, and that we might not know yet whether they were friends or\nenemies. In the next place I went in to fetch my perspective glass to\nsee what I could make of them; and having taken the ladder out, I\nclimbed up to the top of the hill, as I used to do when I was\napprehensive of anything, and to take my view the plainer without being\ndiscovered. I had scarce set my foot upon the hill when my eye plainly\ndiscovered a ship lying at anchor, at about two leagues and a half\ndistance from me, SSE., but not above a league and a half from the\nshore. By my observation it appeared plainly to be an English ship, and\nthe boat appeared to be an English long-boat.\nI cannot express the confusion I was in, though the joy of seeing a\nship, and one that I had reason to believe was manned by my own\ncountrymen, and consequently friends, was such as I cannot describe;\nbut yet I had some secret doubts hung about me\u2014I cannot tell from\nwhence they came\u2014bidding me keep upon my guard. In the first place, it\noccurred to me to consider what business an English ship could have in\nthat part of the world, since it was not the way to or from any part of\nthe world where the English had any traffic; and I knew there had been\nno storms to drive them in there in distress; and that if they were\nreally English it was most probable that they were here upon no good\ndesign; and that I had better continue as I was than fall into the\nhands of thieves and murderers.\nLet no man despise the secret hints and notices of danger which\nsometimes are given him when he may think there is no possibility of\nits being real. That such hints and notices are given us I believe few\nthat have made any observation of things can deny; that they are\ncertain discoveries of an invisible world, and a converse of spirits,\nwe cannot doubt; and if the tendency of them seems to be to warn us of\ndanger, why should we not suppose they are from some friendly agent\n(whether supreme, or inferior and subordinate, is not the question),\nand that they are given for our good?\nThe present question abundantly confirms me in the justice of this\nreasoning; for had I not been made cautious by this secret admonition,\ncome it from whence it will, I had been done inevitably, and in a far\nworse condition than before, as you will see presently. I had not kept\nmyself long in this posture till I saw the boat draw near the shore, as\nif they looked for a creek to thrust in at, for the convenience of\nlanding; however, as they did not come quite far enough, they did not\nsee the little inlet where I formerly landed my rafts, but ran their\nboat on shore upon the beach, at about half a mile from me, which was\nvery happy for me; for otherwise they would have landed just at my\ndoor, as I may say, and would soon have beaten me out of my castle, and\nperhaps have plundered me of all I had. When they were on shore I was\nfully satisfied they were Englishmen, at least most of them; one or two\nI thought were Dutch, but it did not prove so; there were in all eleven\nmen, whereof three of them I found were unarmed and, as I thought,\nbound; and when the first four or five of them were jumped on shore,\nthey took those three out of the boat as prisoners: one of the three I\ncould perceive using the most passionate gestures of entreaty,\naffliction, and despair, even to a kind of extravagance; the other two,\nI could perceive, lifted up their hands sometimes, and appeared\nconcerned indeed, but not to such a degree as the first. I was\nperfectly confounded at the sight, and knew not what the meaning of it\nshould be. Friday called out to me in English, as well as he could, \u201cO\nmaster! you see English mans eat prisoner as well as savage mans.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, Friday,\u201d says I, \u201cdo you think they are going to eat them, then?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d says Friday, \u201cthey will eat them.\u201d \u201cNo no,\u201d says I, \u201cFriday; I\nam afraid they will murder them, indeed; but you may be sure they will\nnot eat them.\u201d\nAll this while I had no thought of what the matter really was, but\nstood trembling with the horror of the sight, expecting every moment\nwhen the three prisoners should be killed; nay, once I saw one of the\nvillains lift up his arm with a great cutlass, as the seamen call it,\nor sword, to strike one of the poor men; and I expected to see him fall\nevery moment; at which all the blood in my body seemed to run chill in\nmy veins. I wished heartily now for the Spaniard, and the savage that\nhad gone with him, or that I had any way to have come undiscovered\nwithin shot of them, that I might have secured the three men, for I saw\nno firearms they had among them; but it fell out to my mind another\nway. After I had observed the outrageous usage of the three men by the\ninsolent seamen, I observed the fellows run scattering about the\nisland, as if they wanted to see the country. I observed that the three\nother men had liberty to go also where they pleased; but they sat down\nall three upon the ground, very pensive, and looked like men in\ndespair. This put me in mind of the first time when I came on shore,\nand began to look about me; how I gave myself over for lost; how wildly\nI looked round me; what dreadful apprehensions I had; and how I lodged\nin the tree all night for fear of being devoured by wild beasts. As I\nknew nothing that night of the supply I was to receive by the\nprovidential driving of the ship nearer the land by the storms and\ntide, by which I have since been so long nourished and supported; so\nthese three poor desolate men knew nothing how certain of deliverance\nand supply they were, how near it was to them, and how effectually and\nreally they were in a condition of safety, at the same time that they\nthought themselves lost and their case desperate. So little do we see\nbefore us in the world, and so much reason have we to depend cheerfully\nupon the great Maker of the world, that He does not leave His creatures\nso absolutely destitute, but that in the worst circumstances they have\nalways something to be thankful for, and sometimes are nearer\ndeliverance than they imagine; nay, are even brought to their\ndeliverance by the means by which they seem to be brought to their\ndestruction.\nIt was just at high-water when these people came on shore; and while\nthey rambled about to see what kind of a place they were in, they had\ncarelessly stayed till the tide was spent, and the water was ebbed\nconsiderably away, leaving their boat aground. They had left two men in\nthe boat, who, as I found afterwards, having drunk a little too much\nbrandy, fell asleep; however, one of them waking a little sooner than\nthe other and finding the boat too fast aground for him to stir it,\nhallooed out for the rest, who were straggling about: upon which they\nall soon came to the boat: but it was past all their strength to launch\nher, the boat being very heavy, and the shore on that side being a soft\noozy sand, almost like a quicksand. In this condition, like true\nseamen, who are, perhaps, the least of all mankind given to\nforethought, they gave it over, and away they strolled about the\ncountry again; and I heard one of them say aloud to another, calling\nthem off from the boat, \u201cWhy, let her alone, Jack, can\u2019t you? she\u2019ll\nfloat next tide;\u201d by which I was fully confirmed in the main inquiry of\nwhat countrymen they were. All this while I kept myself very close, not\nonce daring to stir out of my castle any farther than to my place of\nobservation near the top of the hill: and very glad I was to think how\nwell it was fortified. I knew it was no less than ten hours before the\nboat could float again, and by that time it would be dark, and I might\nbe at more liberty to see their motions, and to hear their discourse,\nif they had any. In the meantime I fitted myself up for a battle as\nbefore, though with more caution, knowing I had to do with another kind\nof enemy than I had at first. I ordered Friday also, whom I had made an\nexcellent marksman with his gun, to load himself with arms. I took\nmyself two fowling-pieces, and I gave him three muskets. My figure,\nindeed, was very fierce; I had my formidable goat-skin coat on, with\nthe great cap I have mentioned, a naked sword by my side, two pistols\nin my belt, and a gun upon each shoulder.\nIt was my design, as I said above, not to have made any attempt till it\nwas dark; but about two o\u2019clock, being the heat of the day, I found\nthat they were all gone straggling into the woods, and, as I thought,\nlaid down to sleep. The three poor distressed men, too anxious for\ntheir condition to get any sleep, had, however, sat down under the\nshelter of a great tree, at about a quarter of a mile from me, and, as\nI thought, out of sight of any of the rest. Upon this I resolved to\ndiscover myself to them, and learn something of their condition;\nimmediately I marched as above, my man Friday at a good distance behind\nme, as formidable for his arms as I, but not making quite so staring a\nspectre-like figure as I did. I came as near them undiscovered as I\ncould, and then, before any of them saw me, I called aloud to them in\nSpanish, \u201cWhat are ye, gentlemen?\u201d They started up at the noise, but\nwere ten times more confounded when they saw me, and the uncouth figure\nthat I made. They made no answer at all, but I thought I perceived them\njust going to fly from me, when I spoke to them in English.\n\u201cGentlemen,\u201d said I, \u201cdo not be surprised at me; perhaps you may have a\nfriend near when you did not expect it.\u201d \u201cHe must be sent directly from\nheaven then,\u201d said one of them very gravely to me, and pulling off his\nhat at the same time to me; \u201cfor our condition is past the help of\nman.\u201d \u201cAll help is from heaven, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cbut can you put a\nstranger in the way to help you? for you seem to be in some great\ndistress. I saw you when you landed; and when you seemed to make\napplication to the brutes that came with you, I saw one of them lift up\nhis sword to kill you.\u201d\nThe poor man, with tears running down his face, and trembling, looking\nlike one astonished, returned, \u201cAm I talking to God or man? Is it a\nreal man or an angel?\u201d \u201cBe in no fear about that, sir,\u201d said I; \u201cif God\nhad sent an angel to relieve you, he would have come better clothed,\nand armed after another manner than you see me; pray lay aside your\nfears; I am a man, an Englishman, and disposed to assist you; you see I\nhave one servant only; we have arms and ammunition; tell us freely, can\nwe serve you? What is your case?\u201d \u201cOur case, sir,\u201d said he, \u201cis too\nlong to tell you while our murderers are so near us; but, in short,\nsir, I was commander of that ship\u2014my men have mutinied against me; they\nhave been hardly prevailed on not to murder me, and, at last, have set\nme on shore in this desolate place, with these two men with me\u2014one my\nmate, the other a passenger\u2014where we expected to perish, believing the\nplace to be uninhabited, and know not yet what to think of it.\u201d \u201cWhere\nare these brutes, your enemies?\u201d said I; \u201cdo you know where they are\ngone?\u201d \u201cThere they lie, sir,\u201d said he, pointing to a thicket of trees;\n\u201cmy heart trembles for fear they have seen us and heard you speak; if\nthey have, they will certainly murder us all.\u201d \u201cHave they any\nfirearms?\u201d said I. He answered, \u201cThey had only two pieces, one of which\nthey left in the boat.\u201d \u201cWell, then,\u201d said I, \u201cleave the rest to me; I\nsee they are all asleep; it is an easy thing to kill them all; but\nshall we rather take them prisoners?\u201d He told me there were two\ndesperate villains among them that it was scarce safe to show any mercy\nto; but if they were secured, he believed all the rest would return to\ntheir duty. I asked him which they were. He told me he could not at\nthat distance distinguish them, but he would obey my orders in anything\nI would direct. \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201clet us retreat out of their view or\nhearing, lest they awake, and we will resolve further.\u201d So they\nwillingly went back with me, till the woods covered us from them.\n\u201cLook you, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cif I venture upon your deliverance, are you\nwilling to make two conditions with me?\u201d He anticipated my proposals by\ntelling me that both he and the ship, if recovered, should be wholly\ndirected and commanded by me in everything; and if the ship was not\nrecovered, he would live and die with me in what part of the world\nsoever I would send him; and the two other men said the same. \u201cWell,\u201d\nsays I, \u201cmy conditions are but two; first, that while you stay in this\nisland with me, you will not pretend to any authority here; and if I\nput arms in your hands, you will, upon all occasions, give them up to\nme, and do no prejudice to me or mine upon this island, and in the\nmeantime be governed by my orders; secondly, that if the ship is or may\nbe recovered, you will carry me and my man to England passage free.\u201d\nHe gave me all the assurances that the invention or faith of man could\ndevise that he would comply with these most reasonable demands, and\nbesides would owe his life to me, and acknowledge it upon all occasions\nas long as he lived. \u201cWell, then,\u201d said I, \u201chere are three muskets for\nyou, with powder and ball; tell me next what you think is proper to be\ndone.\u201d He showed all the testimonies of his gratitude that he was able,\nbut offered to be wholly guided by me. I told him I thought it was very\nhard venturing anything; but the best method I could think of was to\nfire on them at once as they lay, and if any were not killed at the\nfirst volley, and offered to submit, we might save them, and so put it\nwholly upon God\u2019s providence to direct the shot. He said, very\nmodestly, that he was loath to kill them if he could help it; but that\nthose two were incorrigible villains, and had been the authors of all\nthe mutiny in the ship, and if they escaped, we should be undone still,\nfor they would go on board and bring the whole ship\u2019s company, and\ndestroy us all. \u201cWell, then,\u201d says I, \u201cnecessity legitimates my advice,\nfor it is the only way to save our lives.\u201d However, seeing him still\ncautious of shedding blood, I told him they should go themselves, and\nmanage as they found convenient.\nIn the middle of this discourse we heard some of them awake, and soon\nafter we saw two of them on their feet. I asked him if either of them\nwere the heads of the mutiny? He said, \u201cNo.\u201d \u201cWell, then,\u201d said I, \u201cyou\nmay let them escape; and Providence seems to have awakened them on\npurpose to save themselves. Now,\u201d says I, \u201cif the rest escape you, it\nis your fault.\u201d Animated with this, he took the musket I had given him\nin his hand, and a pistol in his belt, and his two comrades with him,\nwith each a piece in his hand; the two men who were with him going\nfirst made some noise, at which one of the seamen who was awake turned\nabout, and seeing them coming, cried out to the rest; but was too late\nthen, for the moment he cried out they fired\u2014I mean the two men, the\ncaptain wisely reserving his own piece. They had so well aimed their\nshot at the men they knew, that one of them was killed on the spot, and\nthe other very much wounded; but not being dead, he started up on his\nfeet, and called eagerly for help to the other; but the captain\nstepping to him, told him it was too late to cry for help, he should\ncall upon God to forgive his villainy, and with that word knocked him\ndown with the stock of his musket, so that he never spoke more; there\nwere three more in the company, and one of them was slightly wounded.\nBy this time I was come; and when they saw their danger, and that it\nwas in vain to resist, they begged for mercy. The captain told them he\nwould spare their lives if they would give him an assurance of their\nabhorrence of the treachery they had been guilty of, and would swear to\nbe faithful to him in recovering the ship, and afterwards in carrying\nher back to Jamaica, from whence they came. They gave him all the\nprotestations of their sincerity that could be desired; and he was\nwilling to believe them, and spare their lives, which I was not\nagainst, only that I obliged him to keep them bound hand and foot while\nthey were on the island.\nWhile this was doing, I sent Friday with the captain\u2019s mate to the boat\nwith orders to secure her, and bring away the oars and sails, which\nthey did; and by-and-by three straggling men, that were (happily for\nthem) parted from the rest, came back upon hearing the guns fired; and\nseeing the captain, who was before their prisoner, now their conqueror,\nthey submitted to be bound also; and so our victory was complete.\nIt now remained that the captain and I should inquire into one\nanother\u2019s circumstances. I began first, and told him my whole history,\nwhich he heard with an attention even to amazement\u2014and particularly at\nthe wonderful manner of my being furnished with provisions and\nammunition; and, indeed, as my story is a whole collection of wonders,\nit affected him deeply. But when he reflected from thence upon himself,\nand how I seemed to have been preserved there on purpose to save his\nlife, the tears ran down his face, and he could not speak a word more.\nAfter this communication was at an end, I carried him and his two men\ninto my apartment, leading them in just where I came out, viz. at the\ntop of the house, where I refreshed them with such provisions as I had,\nand showed them all the contrivances I had made during my long, long\ninhabiting that place.\nAll I showed them, all I said to them, was perfectly amazing; but above\nall, the captain admired my fortification, and how perfectly I had\nconcealed my retreat with a grove of trees, which having been now\nplanted nearly twenty years, and the trees growing much faster than in\nEngland, was become a little wood, so thick that it was impassable in\nany part of it but at that one side where I had reserved my little\nwinding passage into it. I told him this was my castle and my\nresidence, but that I had a seat in the country, as most princes have,\nwhither I could retreat upon occasion, and I would show him that too\nanother time; but at present our business was to consider how to\nrecover the ship. He agreed with me as to that, but told me he was\nperfectly at a loss what measures to take, for that there were still\nsix-and-twenty hands on board, who, having entered into a cursed\nconspiracy, by which they had all forfeited their lives to the law,\nwould be hardened in it now by desperation, and would carry it on,\nknowing that if they were subdued they would be brought to the gallows\nas soon as they came to England, or to any of the English colonies, and\nthat, therefore, there would be no attacking them with so small a\nnumber as we were.\nI mused for some time on what he had said, and found it was a very\nrational conclusion, and that therefore something was to be resolved on\nspeedily, as well to draw the men on board into some snare for their\nsurprise as to prevent their landing upon us, and destroying us. Upon\nthis, it presently occurred to me that in a little while the ship\u2019s\ncrew, wondering what was become of their comrades and of the boat,\nwould certainly come on shore in their other boat to look for them, and\nthat then, perhaps, they might come armed, and be too strong for us:\nthis he allowed to be rational. Upon this, I told him the first thing\nwe had to do was to stave the boat which lay upon the beach, so that\nthey might not carry her off, and taking everything out of her, leave\nher so far useless as not to be fit to swim. Accordingly, we went on\nboard, took the arms which were left on board out of her, and whatever\nelse we found there\u2014which was a bottle of brandy, and another of rum, a\nfew biscuit-cakes, a horn of powder, and a great lump of sugar in a\npiece of canvas (the sugar was five or six pounds): all which was very\nwelcome to me, especially the brandy and sugar, of which I had had none\nleft for many years.\nWhen we had carried all these things on shore (the oars, mast, sail,\nand rudder of the boat were carried away before), we knocked a great\nhole in her bottom, that if they had come strong enough to master us,\nyet they could not carry off the boat. Indeed, it was not much in my\nthoughts that we could be able to recover the ship; but my view was,\nthat if they went away without the boat, I did not much question to\nmake her again fit to carry as to the Leeward Islands, and call upon\nour friends the Spaniards in my way, for I had them still in my\nthoughts.\nCHAPTER XVIII. THE SHIP RECOVERED\nWhile we were thus preparing our designs, and had first, by main\nstrength, heaved the boat upon the beach, so high that the tide would\nnot float her off at high-water mark, and besides, had broke a hole in\nher bottom too big to be quickly stopped, and were set down musing what\nwe should do, we heard the ship fire a gun, and make a waft with her\nensign as a signal for the boat to come on board\u2014but no boat stirred;\nand they fired several times, making other signals for the boat. At\nlast, when all their signals and firing proved fruitless, and they\nfound the boat did not stir, we saw them, by the help of my glasses,\nhoist another boat out and row towards the shore; and we found, as they\napproached, that there were no less than ten men in her, and that they\nhad firearms with them.\nAs the ship lay almost two leagues from the shore, we had a full view\nof them as they came, and a plain sight even of their faces; because\nthe tide having set them a little to the east of the other boat, they\nrowed up under shore, to come to the same place where the other had\nlanded, and where the boat lay; by this means, I say, we had a full\nview of them, and the captain knew the persons and characters of all\nthe men in the boat, of whom, he said, there were three very honest\nfellows, who, he was sure, were led into this conspiracy by the rest,\nbeing over-powered and frightened; but that as for the boatswain, who\nit seems was the chief officer among them, and all the rest, they were\nas outrageous as any of the ship\u2019s crew, and were no doubt made\ndesperate in their new enterprise; and terribly apprehensive he was\nthat they would be too powerful for us. I smiled at him, and told him\nthat men in our circumstances were past the operation of fear; that\nseeing almost every condition that could be was better than that which\nwe were supposed to be in, we ought to expect that the consequence,\nwhether death or life, would be sure to be a deliverance. I asked him\nwhat he thought of the circumstances of my life, and whether a\ndeliverance were not worth venturing for? \u201cAnd where, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cis\nyour belief of my being preserved here on purpose to save your life,\nwhich elevated you a little while ago? For my part,\u201d said I, \u201cthere\nseems to be but one thing amiss in all the prospect of it.\u201d \u201cWhat is\nthat?\u201d say he. \u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201cit is, that as you say there are three\nor four honest fellows among them which should be spared, had they been\nall of the wicked part of the crew I should have thought God\u2019s\nprovidence had singled them out to deliver them into your hands; for\ndepend upon it, every man that comes ashore is our own, and shall die\nor live as they behave to us.\u201d As I spoke this with a raised voice and\ncheerful countenance, I found it greatly encouraged him; so we set\nvigorously to our business.\nWe had, upon the first appearance of the boat\u2019s coming from the ship,\nconsidered of separating our prisoners; and we had, indeed, secured\nthem effectually. Two of them, of whom the captain was less assured\nthan ordinary, I sent with Friday, and one of the three delivered men,\nto my cave, where they were remote enough, and out of danger of being\nheard or discovered, or of finding their way out of the woods if they\ncould have delivered themselves. Here they left them bound, but gave\nthem provisions; and promised them, if they continued there quietly, to\ngive them their liberty in a day or two; but that if they attempted\ntheir escape they should be put to death without mercy. They promised\nfaithfully to bear their confinement with patience, and were very\nthankful that they had such good usage as to have provisions and light\nleft them; for Friday gave them candles (such as we made ourselves) for\ntheir comfort; and they did not know but that he stood sentinel over\nthem at the entrance.\nThe other prisoners had better usage; two of them were kept pinioned,\nindeed, because the captain was not able to trust them; but the other\ntwo were taken into my service, upon the captain\u2019s recommendation, and\nupon their solemnly engaging to live and die with us; so with them and\nthe three honest men we were seven men, well armed; and I made no doubt\nwe should be able to deal well enough with the ten that were coming,\nconsidering that the captain had said there were three or four honest\nmen among them also. As soon as they got to the place where their other\nboat lay, they ran their boat into the beach and came all on shore,\nhauling the boat up after them, which I was glad to see, for I was\nafraid they would rather have left the boat at an anchor some distance\nfrom the shore, with some hands in her to guard her, and so we should\nnot be able to seize the boat. Being on shore, the first thing they\ndid, they ran all to their other boat; and it was easy to see they were\nunder a great surprise to find her stripped, as above, of all that was\nin her, and a great hole in her bottom. After they had mused a while\nupon this, they set up two or three great shouts, hallooing with all\ntheir might, to try if they could make their companions hear; but all\nwas to no purpose. Then they came all close in a ring, and fired a\nvolley of their small arms, which indeed we heard, and the echoes made\nthe woods ring. But it was all one; those in the cave, we were sure,\ncould not hear; and those in our keeping, though they heard it well\nenough, yet durst give no answer to them. They were so astonished at\nthe surprise of this, that, as they told us afterwards, they resolved\nto go all on board again to their ship, and let them know that the men\nwere all murdered, and the long-boat staved; accordingly, they\nimmediately launched their boat again, and got all of them on board.\nThe captain was terribly amazed, and even confounded, at this,\nbelieving they would go on board the ship again and set sail, giving\ntheir comrades over for lost, and so he should still lose the ship,\nwhich he was in hopes we should have recovered; but he was quickly as\nmuch frightened the other way.\nThey had not been long put off with the boat, when we perceived them\nall coming on shore again; but with this new measure in their conduct,\nwhich it seems they consulted together upon, viz. to leave three men in\nthe boat, and the rest to go on shore, and go up into the country to\nlook for their fellows. This was a great disappointment to us, for now\nwe were at a loss what to do, as our seizing those seven men on shore\nwould be no advantage to us if we let the boat escape; because they\nwould row away to the ship, and then the rest of them would be sure to\nweigh and set sail, and so our recovering the ship would be lost.\nHowever we had no remedy but to wait and see what the issue of things\nmight present. The seven men came on shore, and the three who remained\nin the boat put her off to a good distance from the shore, and came to\nan anchor to wait for them; so that it was impossible for us to come at\nthem in the boat. Those that came on shore kept close together,\nmarching towards the top of the little hill under which my habitation\nlay; and we could see them plainly, though they could not perceive us.\nWe should have been very glad if they would have come nearer us, so\nthat we might have fired at them, or that they would have gone farther\noff, that we might come abroad. But when they were come to the brow of\nthe hill where they could see a great way into the valleys and woods,\nwhich lay towards the north-east part, and where the island lay lowest,\nthey shouted and hallooed till they were weary; and not caring, it\nseems, to venture far from the shore, nor far from one another, they\nsat down together under a tree to consider it. Had they thought fit to\nhave gone to sleep there, as the other part of them had done, they had\ndone the job for us; but they were too full of apprehensions of danger\nto venture to go to sleep, though they could not tell what the danger\nwas they had to fear.\nThe captain made a very just proposal to me upon this consultation of\ntheirs, viz. that perhaps they would all fire a volley again, to\nendeavour to make their fellows hear, and that we should all sally upon\nthem just at the juncture when their pieces were all discharged, and\nthey would certainly yield, and we should have them without bloodshed.\nI liked this proposal, provided it was done while we were near enough\nto come up to them before they could load their pieces again. But this\nevent did not happen; and we lay still a long time, very irresolute\nwhat course to take. At length I told them there would be nothing done,\nin my opinion, till night; and then, if they did not return to the\nboat, perhaps we might find a way to get between them and the shore,\nand so might use some stratagem with them in the boat to get them on\nshore. We waited a great while, though very impatient for their\nremoving; and were very uneasy when, after long consultation, we saw\nthem all start up and march down towards the sea; it seems they had\nsuch dreadful apprehensions of the danger of the place that they\nresolved to go on board the ship again, give their companions over for\nlost, and so go on with their intended voyage with the ship.\nAs soon as I perceived them go towards the shore, I imagined it to be\nas it really was that they had given over their search, and were going\nback again; and the captain, as soon as I told him my thoughts, was\nready to sink at the apprehensions of it; but I presently thought of a\nstratagem to fetch them back again, and which answered my end to a\ntittle. I ordered Friday and the captain\u2019s mate to go over the little\ncreek westward, towards the place where the savages came on shore, when\nFriday was rescued, and so soon as they came to a little rising round,\nat about half a mile distant, I bid them halloo out, as loud as they\ncould, and wait till they found the seamen heard them; that as soon as\never they heard the seamen answer them, they should return it again;\nand then, keeping out of sight, take a round, always answering when the\nothers hallooed, to draw them as far into the island and among the\nwoods as possible, and then wheel about again to me by such ways as I\ndirected them.\nThey were just going into the boat when Friday and the mate hallooed;\nand they presently heard them, and answering, ran along the shore\nwestward, towards the voice they heard, when they were stopped by the\ncreek, where the water being up, they could not get over, and called\nfor the boat to come up and set them over; as, indeed, I expected. When\nthey had set themselves over, I observed that the boat being gone a\ngood way into the creek, and, as it were, in a harbour within the land,\nthey took one of the three men out of her, to go along with them, and\nleft only two in the boat, having fastened her to the stump of a little\ntree on the shore. This was what I wished for; and immediately leaving\nFriday and the captain\u2019s mate to their business, I took the rest with\nme; and, crossing the creek out of their sight, we surprised the two\nmen before they were aware\u2014one of them lying on the shore, and the\nother being in the boat. The fellow on shore was between sleeping and\nwaking, and going to start up; the captain, who was foremost, ran in\nupon him, and knocked him down; and then called out to him in the boat\nto yield, or he was a dead man. They needed very few arguments to\npersuade a single man to yield, when he saw five men upon him and his\ncomrade knocked down: besides, this was, it seems, one of the three who\nwere not so hearty in the mutiny as the rest of the crew, and therefore\nwas easily persuaded not only to yield, but afterwards to join very\nsincerely with us. In the meantime, Friday and the captain\u2019s mate so\nwell managed their business with the rest that they drew them, by\nhallooing and answering, from one hill to another, and from one wood to\nanother, till they not only heartily tired them, but left them where\nthey were, very sure they could not reach back to the boat before it\nwas dark; and, indeed, they were heartily tired themselves also, by the\ntime they came back to us.\nWe had nothing now to do but to watch for them in the dark, and to fall\nupon them, so as to make sure work with them. It was several hours\nafter Friday came back to me before they came back to their boat; and\nwe could hear the foremost of them, long before they came quite up,\ncalling to those behind to come along; and could also hear them answer,\nand complain how lame and tired they were, and not able to come any\nfaster: which was very welcome news to us. At length they came up to\nthe boat: but it is impossible to express their confusion when they\nfound the boat fast aground in the creek, the tide ebbed out, and their\ntwo men gone. We could hear them call one to another in a most\nlamentable manner, telling one another they were got into an enchanted\nisland; that either there were inhabitants in it, and they should all\nbe murdered, or else there were devils and spirits in it, and they\nshould be all carried away and devoured. They hallooed again, and\ncalled their two comrades by their names a great many times; but no\nanswer. After some time we could see them, by the little light there\nwas, run about, wringing their hands like men in despair, and sometimes\nthey would go and sit down in the boat to rest themselves: then come\nashore again, and walk about again, and so the same thing over again.\nMy men would fain have had me give them leave to fall upon them at once\nin the dark; but I was willing to take them at some advantage, so as to\nspare them, and kill as few of them as I could; and especially I was\nunwilling to hazard the killing of any of our men, knowing the others\nwere very well armed. I resolved to wait, to see if they did not\nseparate; and therefore, to make sure of them, I drew my ambuscade\nnearer, and ordered Friday and the captain to creep upon their hands\nand feet, as close to the ground as they could, that they might not be\ndiscovered, and get as near them as they could possibly before they\noffered to fire.\nThey had not been long in that posture when the boatswain, who was the\nprincipal ringleader of the mutiny, and had now shown himself the most\ndejected and dispirited of all the rest, came walking towards them,\nwith two more of the crew; the captain was so eager at having this\nprincipal rogue so much in his power, that he could hardly have\npatience to let him come so near as to be sure of him, for they only\nheard his tongue before: but when they came nearer, the captain and\nFriday, starting up on their feet, let fly at them. The boatswain was\nkilled upon the spot: the next man was shot in the body, and fell just\nby him, though he did not die till an hour or two after; and the third\nran for it. At the noise of the fire I immediately advanced with my\nwhole army, which was now eight men, viz. myself, generalissimo;\nFriday, my lieutenant-general; the captain and his two men, and the\nthree prisoners of war whom we had trusted with arms. We came upon\nthem, indeed, in the dark, so that they could not see our number; and I\nmade the man they had left in the boat, who was now one of us, to call\nthem by name, to try if I could bring them to a parley, and so perhaps\nmight reduce them to terms; which fell out just as we desired: for\nindeed it was easy to think, as their condition then was, they would be\nvery willing to capitulate. So he calls out as loud as he could to one\nof them, \u201cTom Smith! Tom Smith!\u201d Tom Smith answered immediately, \u201cIs\nthat Robinson?\u201d for it seems he knew the voice. The other answered,\n\u201cAy, ay; for God\u2019s sake, Tom Smith, throw down your arms and yield, or\nyou are all dead men this moment.\u201d \u201cWho must we yield to? Where are\nthey?\u201d says Smith again. \u201cHere they are,\u201d says he; \u201chere\u2019s our captain\nand fifty men with him, have been hunting you these two hours; the\nboatswain is killed; Will Fry is wounded, and I am a prisoner; and if\nyou do not yield you are all lost.\u201d \u201cWill they give us quarter, then?\u201d\nsays Tom Smith, \u201cand we will yield.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll go and ask, if you promise\nto yield,\u201d said Robinson: so he asked the captain, and the captain\nhimself then calls out, \u201cYou, Smith, you know my voice; if you lay down\nyour arms immediately and submit, you shall have your lives, all but\nWill Atkins.\u201d\nUpon this Will Atkins cried out, \u201cFor God\u2019s sake, captain, give me\nquarter; what have I done? They have all been as bad as I:\u201d which, by\nthe way, was not true; for it seems this Will Atkins was the first man\nthat laid hold of the captain when they first mutinied, and used him\nbarbarously in tying his hands and giving him injurious language.\nHowever, the captain told him he must lay down his arms at discretion,\nand trust to the governor\u2019s mercy: by which he meant me, for they all\ncalled me governor. In a word, they all laid down their arms and begged\ntheir lives; and I sent the man that had parleyed with them, and two\nmore, who bound them all; and then my great army of fifty men, which,\nwith those three, were in all but eight, came up and seized upon them,\nand upon their boat; only that I kept myself and one more out of sight\nfor reasons of state.\nOur next work was to repair the boat, and think of seizing the ship:\nand as for the captain, now he had leisure to parley with them, he\nexpostulated with them upon the villainy of their practices with him,\nand upon the further wickedness of their design, and how certainly it\nmust bring them to misery and distress in the end, and perhaps to the\ngallows. They all appeared very penitent, and begged hard for their\nlives. As for that, he told them they were not his prisoners, but the\ncommander\u2019s of the island; that they thought they had set him on shore\nin a barren, uninhabited island; but it had pleased God so to direct\nthem that it was inhabited, and that the governor was an Englishman;\nthat he might hang them all there, if he pleased; but as he had given\nthem all quarter, he supposed he would send them to England, to be\ndealt with there as justice required, except Atkins, whom he was\ncommanded by the governor to advise to prepare for death, for that he\nwould be hanged in the morning.\nThough this was all but a fiction of his own, yet it had its desired\neffect; Atkins fell upon his knees to beg the captain to intercede with\nthe governor for his life; and all the rest begged of him, for God\u2019s\nsake, that they might not be sent to England.\nIt now occurred to me that the time of our deliverance was come, and\nthat it would be a most easy thing to bring these fellows in to be\nhearty in getting possession of the ship; so I retired in the dark from\nthem, that they might not see what kind of a governor they had, and\ncalled the captain to me; when I called, at a good distance, one of the\nmen was ordered to speak again, and say to the captain, \u201cCaptain, the\ncommander calls for you;\u201d and presently the captain replied, \u201cTell his\nexcellency I am just coming.\u201d This more perfectly amazed them, and they\nall believed that the commander was just by, with his fifty men. Upon\nthe captain coming to me, I told him my project for seizing the ship,\nwhich he liked wonderfully well, and resolved to put it in execution\nthe next morning. But, in order to execute it with more art, and to be\nsecure of success, I told him we must divide the prisoners, and that he\nshould go and take Atkins, and two more of the worst of them, and send\nthem pinioned to the cave where the others lay. This was committed to\nFriday and the two men who came on shore with the captain. They\nconveyed them to the cave as to a prison: and it was, indeed, a dismal\nplace, especially to men in their condition. The others I ordered to my\nbower, as I called it, of which I have given a full description: and as\nit was fenced in, and they pinioned, the place was secure enough,\nconsidering they were upon their behaviour.\nTo these in the morning I sent the captain, who was to enter into a\nparley with them; in a word, to try them, and tell me whether he\nthought they might be trusted or not to go on board and surprise the\nship. He talked to them of the injury done him, of the condition they\nwere brought to, and that though the governor had given them quarter\nfor their lives as to the present action, yet that if they were sent to\nEngland they would all be hanged in chains; but that if they would join\nin so just an attempt as to recover the ship, he would have the\ngovernor\u2019s engagement for their pardon.\nAny one may guess how readily such a proposal would be accepted by men\nin their condition; they fell down on their knees to the captain, and\npromised, with the deepest imprecations, that they would be faithful to\nhim to the last drop, and that they should owe their lives to him, and\nwould go with him all over the world; that they would own him as a\nfather to them as long as they lived. \u201cWell,\u201d says the captain, \u201cI must\ngo and tell the governor what you say, and see what I can do to bring\nhim to consent to it.\u201d So he brought me an account of the temper he\nfound them in, and that he verily believed they would be faithful.\nHowever, that we might be very secure, I told him he should go back\nagain and choose out those five, and tell them, that they might see he\ndid not want men, that he would take out those five to be his\nassistants, and that the governor would keep the other two, and the\nthree that were sent prisoners to the castle (my cave), as hostages for\nthe fidelity of those five; and that if they proved unfaithful in the\nexecution, the five hostages should be hanged in chains alive on the\nshore. This looked severe, and convinced them that the governor was in\nearnest; however, they had no way left them but to accept it; and it\nwas now the business of the prisoners, as much as of the captain, to\npersuade the other five to do their duty.\nOur strength was now thus ordered for the expedition: first, the\ncaptain, his mate, and passenger; second, the two prisoners of the\nfirst gang, to whom, having their character from the captain, I had\ngiven their liberty, and trusted them with arms; third, the other two\nthat I had kept till now in my bower, pinioned, but on the captain\u2019s\nmotion had now released; fourth, these five released at last; so that\nthere were twelve in all, besides five we kept prisoners in the cave\nfor hostages.\nI asked the captain if he was willing to venture with these hands on\nboard the ship; but as for me and my man Friday, I did not think it was\nproper for us to stir, having seven men left behind; and it was\nemployment enough for us to keep them asunder, and supply them with\nvictuals. As to the five in the cave, I resolved to keep them fast, but\nFriday went in twice a day to them, to supply them with necessaries;\nand I made the other two carry provisions to a certain distance, where\nFriday was to take them.\nWhen I showed myself to the two hostages, it was with the captain, who\ntold them I was the person the governor had ordered to look after them;\nand that it was the governor\u2019s pleasure they should not stir anywhere\nbut by my direction; that if they did, they would be fetched into the\ncastle, and be laid in irons: so that as we never suffered them to see\nme as governor, I now appeared as another person, and spoke of the\ngovernor, the garrison, the castle, and the like, upon all occasions.\nThe captain now had no difficulty before him, but to furnish his two\nboats, stop the breach of one, and man them. He made his passenger\ncaptain of one, with four of the men; and himself, his mate, and five\nmore, went in the other; and they contrived their business very well,\nfor they came up to the ship about midnight. As soon as they came\nwithin call of the ship, he made Robinson hail them, and tell them they\nhad brought off the men and the boat, but that it was a long time\nbefore they had found them, and the like, holding them in a chat till\nthey came to the ship\u2019s side; when the captain and the mate entering\nfirst with their arms, immediately knocked down the second mate and\ncarpenter with the butt-end of their muskets, being very faithfully\nseconded by their men; they secured all the rest that were upon the\nmain and quarter decks, and began to fasten the hatches, to keep them\ndown that were below; when the other boat and their men, entering at\nthe forechains, secured the forecastle of the ship, and the scuttle\nwhich went down into the cook-room, making three men they found there\nprisoners. When this was done, and all safe upon deck, the captain\nordered the mate, with three men, to break into the round-house, where\nthe new rebel captain lay, who, having taken the alarm, had got up, and\nwith two men and a boy had got firearms in their hands; and when the\nmate, with a crow, split open the door, the new captain and his men\nfired boldly among them, and wounded the mate with a musket ball, which\nbroke his arm, and wounded two more of the men, but killed nobody. The\nmate, calling for help, rushed, however, into the round-house, wounded\nas he was, and, with his pistol, shot the new captain through the head,\nthe bullet entering at his mouth, and came out again behind one of his\nears, so that he never spoke a word more: upon which the rest yielded,\nand the ship was taken effectually, without any more lives lost.\nAs soon as the ship was thus secured, the captain ordered seven guns to\nbe fired, which was the signal agreed upon with me to give me notice of\nhis success, which, you may be sure, I was very glad to hear, having\nsat watching upon the shore for it till near two o\u2019clock in the\nmorning. Having thus heard the signal plainly, I laid me down; and it\nhaving been a day of great fatigue to me, I slept very sound, till I\nwas surprised with the noise of a gun; and presently starting up, I\nheard a man call me by the name of \u201cGovernor! Governor!\u201d and presently\nI knew the captain\u2019s voice; when, climbing up to the top of the hill,\nthere he stood, and, pointing to the ship, he embraced me in his arms,\n\u201cMy dear friend and deliverer,\u201d says he, \u201cthere\u2019s your ship; for she is\nall yours, and so are we, and all that belong to her.\u201d I cast my eyes\nto the ship, and there she rode, within little more than half a mile of\nthe shore; for they had weighed her anchor as soon as they were masters\nof her, and, the weather being fair, had brought her to an anchor just\nagainst the mouth of the little creek; and the tide being up, the\ncaptain had brought the pinnace in near the place where I had first\nlanded my rafts, and so landed just at my door. I was at first ready to\nsink down with the surprise; for I saw my deliverance, indeed, visibly\nput into my hands, all things easy, and a large ship just ready to\ncarry me away whither I pleased to go. At first, for some time, I was\nnot able to answer him one word; but as he had taken me in his arms I\nheld fast by him, or I should have fallen to the ground. He perceived\nthe surprise, and immediately pulled a bottle out of his pocket and\ngave me a dram of cordial, which he had brought on purpose for me.\nAfter I had drunk it, I sat down upon the ground; and though it brought\nme to myself, yet it was a good while before I could speak a word to\nhim. All this time the poor man was in as great an ecstasy as I, only\nnot under any surprise as I was; and he said a thousand kind and tender\nthings to me, to compose and bring me to myself; but such was the flood\nof joy in my breast, that it put all my spirits into confusion: at last\nit broke out into tears, and in a little while after I recovered my\nspeech; I then took my turn, and embraced him as my deliverer, and we\nrejoiced together. I told him I looked upon him as a man sent by Heaven\nto deliver me, and that the whole transaction seemed to be a chain of\nwonders; that such things as these were the testimonies we had of a\nsecret hand of Providence governing the world, and an evidence that the\neye of an infinite Power could search into the remotest corner of the\nworld, and send help to the miserable whenever He pleased. I forgot not\nto lift up my heart in thankfulness to Heaven; and what heart could\nforbear to bless Him, who had not only in a miraculous manner provided\nfor me in such a wilderness, and in such a desolate condition, but from\nwhom every deliverance must always be acknowledged to proceed.\nWhen we had talked a while, the captain told me he had brought me some\nlittle refreshment, such as the ship afforded, and such as the wretches\nthat had been so long his masters had not plundered him of. Upon this,\nhe called aloud to the boat, and bade his men bring the things ashore\nthat were for the governor; and, indeed, it was a present as if I had\nbeen one that was not to be carried away with them, but as if I had\nbeen to dwell upon the island still. First, he had brought me a case of\nbottles full of excellent cordial waters, six large bottles of Madeira\nwine (the bottles held two quarts each), two pounds of excellent good\ntobacco, twelve good pieces of the ship\u2019s beef, and six pieces of pork,\nwith a bag of peas, and about a hundred-weight of biscuit; he also\nbrought me a box of sugar, a box of flour, a bag full of lemons, and\ntwo bottles of lime-juice, and abundance of other things. But besides\nthese, and what was a thousand times more useful to me, he brought me\nsix new clean shirts, six very good neckcloths, two pair of gloves, one\npair of shoes, a hat, and one pair of stockings, with a very good suit\nof clothes of his own, which had been worn but very little: in a word,\nhe clothed me from head to foot. It was a very kind and agreeable\npresent, as any one may imagine, to one in my circumstances, but never\nwas anything in the world of that kind so unpleasant, awkward, and\nuneasy as it was to me to wear such clothes at first.\nAfter these ceremonies were past, and after all his good things were\nbrought into my little apartment, we began to consult what was to be\ndone with the prisoners we had; for it was worth considering whether we\nmight venture to take them with us or no, especially two of them, whom\nhe knew to be incorrigible and refractory to the last degree; and the\ncaptain said he knew they were such rogues that there was no obliging\nthem, and if he did carry them away, it must be in irons, as\nmalefactors, to be delivered over to justice at the first English\ncolony he could come to; and I found that the captain himself was very\nanxious about it. Upon this, I told him that, if he desired it, I would\nundertake to bring the two men he spoke of to make it their own request\nthat he should leave them upon the island. \u201cI should be very glad of\nthat,\u201d says the captain, \u201cwith all my heart.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d says I, \u201cI will\nsend for them up and talk with them for you.\u201d So I caused Friday and\nthe two hostages, for they were now discharged, their comrades having\nperformed their promise; I say, I caused them to go to the cave, and\nbring up the five men, pinioned as they were, to the bower, and keep\nthem there till I came. After some time, I came thither dressed in my\nnew habit; and now I was called governor again. Being all met, and the\ncaptain with me, I caused the men to be brought before me, and I told\nthem I had got a full account of their villainous behaviour to the\ncaptain, and how they had run away with the ship, and were preparing to\ncommit further robberies, but that Providence had ensnared them in\ntheir own ways, and that they were fallen into the pit which they had\ndug for others. I let them know that by my direction the ship had been\nseized; that she lay now in the road; and they might see by-and-by that\ntheir new captain had received the reward of his villainy, and that\nthey would see him hanging at the yard-arm; that, as to them, I wanted\nto know what they had to say why I should not execute them as pirates\ntaken in the fact, as by my commission they could not doubt but I had\nauthority so to do.\nOne of them answered in the name of the rest, that they had nothing to\nsay but this, that when they were taken the captain promised them their\nlives, and they humbly implored my mercy. But I told them I knew not\nwhat mercy to show them; for as for myself, I had resolved to quit the\nisland with all my men, and had taken passage with the captain to go to\nEngland; and as for the captain, he could not carry them to England\nother than as prisoners in irons, to be tried for mutiny and running\naway with the ship; the consequence of which, they must needs know,\nwould be the gallows; so that I could not tell what was best for them,\nunless they had a mind to take their fate in the island. If they\ndesired that, as I had liberty to leave the island, I had some\ninclination to give them their lives, if they thought they could shift\non shore. They seemed very thankful for it, and said they would much\nrather venture to stay there than be carried to England to be hanged.\nSo I left it on that issue.\nHowever, the captain seemed to make some difficulty of it, as if he\ndurst not leave them there. Upon this I seemed a little angry with the\ncaptain, and told him that they were my prisoners, not his; and that\nseeing I had offered them so much favour, I would be as good as my\nword; and that if he did not think fit to consent to it I would set\nthem at liberty, as I found them: and if he did not like it he might\ntake them again if he could catch them. Upon this they appeared very\nthankful, and I accordingly set them at liberty, and bade them retire\ninto the woods, to the place whence they came, and I would leave them\nsome firearms, some ammunition, and some directions how they should\nlive very well if they thought fit. Upon this I prepared to go on board\nthe ship; but told the captain I would stay that night to prepare my\nthings, and desired him to go on board in the meantime, and keep all\nright in the ship, and send the boat on shore next day for me; ordering\nhim, at all events, to cause the new captain, who was killed, to be\nhanged at the yard-arm, that these men might see him.\nWhen the captain was gone I sent for the men up to me to my apartment,\nand entered seriously into discourse with them on their circumstances.\nI told them I thought they had made a right choice; that if the captain\nhad carried them away they would certainly be hanged. I showed them the\nnew captain hanging at the yard-arm of the ship, and told them they had\nnothing less to expect.\nWhen they had all declared their willingness to stay, I then told them\nI would let them into the story of my living there, and put them into\nthe way of making it easy to them. Accordingly, I gave them the whole\nhistory of the place, and of my coming to it; showed them my\nfortifications, the way I made my bread, planted my corn, cured my\ngrapes; and, in a word, all that was necessary to make them easy. I\ntold them the story also of the seventeen Spaniards that were to be\nexpected, for whom I left a letter, and made them promise to treat them\nin common with themselves. Here it may be noted that the captain, who\nhad ink on board, was greatly surprised that I never hit upon a way of\nmaking ink of charcoal and water, or of something else, as I had done\nthings much more difficult.\nI left them my firearms\u2014viz. five muskets, three fowling-pieces, and\nthree swords. I had above a barrel and a half of powder left; for after\nthe first year or two I used but little, and wasted none. I gave them a\ndescription of the way I managed the goats, and directions to milk and\nfatten them, and to make both butter and cheese. In a word, I gave them\nevery part of my own story; and told them I should prevail with the\ncaptain to leave them two barrels of gunpowder more, and some\ngarden-seeds, which I told them I would have been very glad of. Also, I\ngave them the bag of peas which the captain had brought me to eat, and\nbade them be sure to sow and increase them.\nCHAPTER XIX. RETURN TO ENGLAND\nHaving done all this I left them the next day, and went on board the\nship. We prepared immediately to sail, but did not weigh that night.\nThe next morning early, two of the five men came swimming to the ship\u2019s\nside, and making the most lamentable complaint of the other three,\nbegged to be taken into the ship for God\u2019s sake, for they should be\nmurdered, and begged the captain to take them on board, though he\nhanged them immediately. Upon this the captain pretended to have no\npower without me; but after some difficulty, and after their solemn\npromises of amendment, they were taken on board, and were, some time\nafter, soundly whipped and pickled; after which they proved very honest\nand quiet fellows.\nSome time after this, the boat was ordered on shore, the tide being up,\nwith the things promised to the men; to which the captain, at my\nintercession, caused their chests and clothes to be added, which they\ntook, and were very thankful for. I also encouraged them, by telling\nthem that if it lay in my power to send any vessel to take them in, I\nwould not forget them.\nWhen I took leave of this island, I carried on board, for relics, the\ngreat goat-skin cap I had made, my umbrella, and one of my parrots;\nalso, I forgot not to take the money I formerly mentioned, which had\nlain by me so long useless that it was grown rusty or tarnished, and\ncould hardly pass for silver till it had been a little rubbed and\nhandled, as also the money I found in the wreck of the Spanish ship.\nAnd thus I left the island, the 19th of December, as I found by the\nship\u2019s account, in the year 1686, after I had been upon it\neight-and-twenty years, two months, and nineteen days; being delivered\nfrom this second captivity the same day of the month that I first made\nmy escape in the long-boat from among the Moors of Sallee. In this\nvessel, after a long voyage, I arrived in England the 11th of June, in\nthe year 1687, having been thirty-five years absent.\nWhen I came to England I was as perfect a stranger to all the world as\nif I had never been known there. My benefactor and faithful steward,\nwhom I had left my money in trust with, was alive, but had had great\nmisfortunes in the world; was become a widow the second time, and very\nlow in the world. I made her very easy as to what she owed me, assuring\nher I would give her no trouble; but, on the contrary, in gratitude for\nher former care and faithfulness to me, I relieved her as my little\nstock would afford; which at that time would, indeed, allow me to do\nbut little for her; but I assured her I would never forget her former\nkindness to me; nor did I forget her when I had sufficient to help her,\nas shall be observed in its proper place. I went down afterwards into\nYorkshire; but my father was dead, and my mother and all the family\nextinct, except that I found two sisters, and two of the children of\none of my brothers; and as I had been long ago given over for dead,\nthere had been no provision made for me; so that, in a word, I found\nnothing to relieve or assist me; and that the little money I had would\nnot do much for me as to settling in the world.\nI met with one piece of gratitude indeed, which I did not expect; and\nthis was, that the master of the ship, whom I had so happily delivered,\nand by the same means saved the ship and cargo, having given a very\nhandsome account to the owners of the manner how I had saved the lives\nof the men and the ship, they invited me to meet them and some other\nmerchants concerned, and all together made me a very handsome\ncompliment upon the subject, and a present of almost \u00a3200 sterling.\nBut after making several reflections upon the circumstances of my life,\nand how little way this would go towards settling me in the world, I\nresolved to go to Lisbon, and see if I might not come at some\ninformation of the state of my plantation in the Brazils, and of what\nwas become of my partner, who, I had reason to suppose, had some years\npast given me over for dead. With this view I took shipping for Lisbon,\nwhere I arrived in April following, my man Friday accompanying me very\nhonestly in all these ramblings, and proving a most faithful servant\nupon all occasions. When I came to Lisbon, I found out, by inquiry, and\nto my particular satisfaction, my old friend, the captain of the ship\nwho first took me up at sea off the shore of Africa. He was now grown\nold, and had left off going to sea, having put his son, who was far\nfrom a young man, into his ship, and who still used the Brazil trade.\nThe old man did not know me, and indeed I hardly knew him. But I soon\nbrought him to my remembrance, and as soon brought myself to his\nremembrance, when I told him who I was.\nAfter some passionate expressions of the old acquaintance between us, I\ninquired, you may be sure, after my plantation and my partner. The old\nman told me he had not been in the Brazils for about nine years; but\nthat he could assure me that when he came away my partner was living,\nbut the trustees whom I had joined with him to take cognisance of my\npart were both dead: that, however, he believed I would have a very\ngood account of the improvement of the plantation; for that, upon the\ngeneral belief of my being cast away and drowned, my trustees had given\nin the account of the produce of my part of the plantation to the\nprocurator-fiscal, who had appropriated it, in case I never came to\nclaim it, one-third to the king, and two-thirds to the monastery of St.\nAugustine, to be expended for the benefit of the poor, and for the\nconversion of the Indians to the Catholic faith: but that, if I\nappeared, or any one for me, to claim the inheritance, it would be\nrestored; only that the improvement, or annual production, being\ndistributed to charitable uses, could not be restored: but he assured\nme that the steward of the king\u2019s revenue from lands, and the\nprovidore, or steward of the monastery, had taken great care all along\nthat the incumbent, that is to say my partner, gave every year a\nfaithful account of the produce, of which they had duly received my\nmoiety. I asked him if he knew to what height of improvement he had\nbrought the plantation, and whether he thought it might be worth\nlooking after; or whether, on my going thither, I should meet with any\nobstruction to my possessing my just right in the moiety. He told me he\ncould not tell exactly to what degree the plantation was improved; but\nthis he knew, that my partner was grown exceeding rich upon the\nenjoying his part of it; and that, to the best of his remembrance, he\nhad heard that the king\u2019s third of my part, which was, it seems,\ngranted away to some other monastery or religious house, amounted to\nabove two hundred moidores a year: that as to my being restored to a\nquiet possession of it, there was no question to be made of that, my\npartner being alive to witness my title, and my name being also\nenrolled in the register of the country; also he told me that the\nsurvivors of my two trustees were very fair, honest people, and very\nwealthy; and he believed I would not only have their assistance for\nputting me in possession, but would find a very considerable sum of\nmoney in their hands for my account, being the produce of the farm\nwhile their fathers held the trust, and before it was given up, as\nabove; which, as he remembered, was for about twelve years.\nI showed myself a little concerned and uneasy at this account, and\ninquired of the old captain how it came to pass that the trustees\nshould thus dispose of my effects, when he knew that I had made my\nwill, and had made him, the Portuguese captain, my universal heir, &c.\nHe told me that was true; but that as there was no proof of my being\ndead, he could not act as executor until some certain account should\ncome of my death; and, besides, he was not willing to intermeddle with\na thing so remote: that it was true he had registered my will, and put\nin his claim; and could he have given any account of my being dead or\nalive, he would have acted by procuration, and taken possession of the\ningenio (so they call the sugar-house), and have given his son, who was\nnow at the Brazils, orders to do it. \u201cBut,\u201d says the old man, \u201cI have\none piece of news to tell you, which perhaps may not be so acceptable\nto you as the rest; and that is, believing you were lost, and all the\nworld believing so also, your partner and trustees did offer to account\nwith me, in your name, for the first six or eight years\u2019 profits, which\nI received. There being at that time great disbursements for increasing\nthe works, building an ingenio, and buying slaves, it did not amount to\nnear so much as afterwards it produced; however,\u201d says the old man, \u201cI\nshall give you a true account of what I have received in all, and how I\nhave disposed of it.\u201d\nAfter a few days\u2019 further conference with this ancient friend, he\nbrought me an account of the first six years\u2019 income of my plantation,\nsigned by my partner and the merchant-trustees, being always delivered\nin goods, viz. tobacco in roll, and sugar in chests, besides rum,\nmolasses, &c., which is the consequence of a sugar-work; and I found by\nthis account, that every year the income considerably increased; but,\nas above, the disbursements being large, the sum at first was small:\nhowever, the old man let me see that he was debtor to me four hundred\nand seventy moidores of gold, besides sixty chests of sugar and fifteen\ndouble rolls of tobacco, which were lost in his ship; he having been\nshipwrecked coming home to Lisbon, about eleven years after my having\nthe place. The good man then began to complain of his misfortunes, and\nhow he had been obliged to make use of my money to recover his losses,\nand buy him a share in a new ship. \u201cHowever, my old friend,\u201d says he,\n\u201cyou shall not want a supply in your necessity; and as soon as my son\nreturns you shall be fully satisfied.\u201d Upon this he pulls out an old\npouch, and gives me one hundred and sixty Portugal moidores in gold;\nand giving the writings of his title to the ship, which his son was\ngone to the Brazils in, of which he was quarter-part owner, and his son\nanother, he puts them both into my hands for security of the rest.\nI was too much moved with the honesty and kindness of the poor man to\nbe able to bear this; and remembering what he had done for me, how he\nhad taken me up at sea, and how generously he had used me on all\noccasions, and particularly how sincere a friend he was now to me, I\ncould hardly refrain weeping at what he had said to me; therefore I\nasked him if his circumstances admitted him to spare so much money at\nthat time, and if it would not straiten him? He told me he could not\nsay but it might straiten him a little; but, however, it was my money,\nand I might want it more than he.\nEverything the good man said was full of affection, and I could hardly\nrefrain from tears while he spoke; in short, I took one hundred of the\nmoidores, and called for a pen and ink to give him a receipt for them:\nthen I returned him the rest, and told him if ever I had possession of\nthe plantation I would return the other to him also (as, indeed, I\nafterwards did); and that as to the bill of sale of his part in his\nson\u2019s ship, I would not take it by any means; but that if I wanted the\nmoney, I found he was honest enough to pay me; and if I did not, but\ncame to receive what he gave me reason to expect, I would never have a\npenny more from him.\nWhen this was past, the old man asked me if he should put me into a\nmethod to make my claim to my plantation. I told him I thought to go\nover to it myself. He said I might do so if I pleased, but that if I\ndid not, there were ways enough to secure my right, and immediately to\nappropriate the profits to my use: and as there were ships in the river\nof Lisbon just ready to go away to Brazil, he made me enter my name in\na public register, with his affidavit, affirming, upon oath, that I was\nalive, and that I was the same person who took up the land for the\nplanting the said plantation at first. This being regularly attested by\na notary, and a procuration affixed, he directed me to send it, with a\nletter of his writing, to a merchant of his acquaintance at the place;\nand then proposed my staying with him till an account came of the\nreturn.\nNever was anything more honourable than the proceedings upon this\nprocuration; for in less than seven months I received a large packet\nfrom the survivors of my trustees, the merchants, for whose account I\nwent to sea, in which were the following, particular letters and papers\nenclosed:\u2014\nFirst, there was the account-current of the produce of my farm or\nplantation, from the year when their fathers had balanced with my old\nPortugal captain, being for six years; the balance appeared to be one\nthousand one hundred and seventy-four moidores in my favour.\nSecondly, there was the account of four years more, while they kept the\neffects in their hands, before the government claimed the\nadministration, as being the effects of a person not to be found, which\nthey called civil death; and the balance of this, the value of the\nplantation increasing, amounted to nineteen thousand four hundred and\nforty-six crusadoes, being about three thousand two hundred and forty\nmoidores.\nThirdly, there was the Prior of St. Augustine\u2019s account, who had\nreceived the profits for above fourteen years; but not being able to\naccount for what was disposed of by the hospital, very honestly\ndeclared he had eight hundred and seventy-two moidores not distributed,\nwhich he acknowledged to my account: as to the king\u2019s part, that\nrefunded nothing.\nThere was a letter of my partner\u2019s, congratulating me very\naffectionately upon my being alive, giving me an account how the estate\nwas improved, and what it produced a year; with the particulars of the\nnumber of squares, or acres that it contained, how planted, how many\nslaves there were upon it: and making two-and-twenty crosses for\nblessings, told me he had said so many _Ave Marias_ to thank the\nBlessed Virgin that I was alive; inviting me very passionately to come\nover and take possession of my own, and in the meantime to give him\norders to whom he should deliver my effects if I did not come myself;\nconcluding with a hearty tender of his friendship, and that of his\nfamily; and sent me as a present seven fine leopards\u2019 skins, which he\nhad, it seems, received from Africa, by some other ship that he had\nsent thither, and which, it seems, had made a better voyage than I. He\nsent me also five chests of excellent sweetmeats, and a hundred pieces\nof gold uncoined, not quite so large as moidores. By the same fleet my\ntwo merchant-trustees shipped me one thousand two hundred chests of\nsugar, eight hundred rolls of tobacco, and the rest of the whole\naccount in gold.\nI might well say now, indeed, that the latter end of Job was better\nthan the beginning. It is impossible to express the flutterings of my\nvery heart when I found all my wealth about me; for as the Brazil ships\ncome all in fleets, the same ships which brought my letters brought my\ngoods: and the effects were safe in the river before the letters came\nto my hand. In a word, I turned pale, and grew sick; and, had not the\nold man run and fetched me a cordial, I believe the sudden surprise of\njoy had overset nature, and I had died upon the spot: nay, after that I\ncontinued very ill, and was so some hours, till a physician being sent\nfor, and something of the real cause of my illness being known, he\nordered me to be let blood; after which I had relief, and grew well:\nbut I verily believe, if I had not been eased by a vent given in that\nmanner to the spirits, I should have died.\nI was now master, all on a sudden, of above five thousand pounds\nsterling in money, and had an estate, as I might well call it, in the\nBrazils, of above a thousand pounds a year, as sure as an estate of\nlands in England: and, in a word, I was in a condition which I scarce\nknew how to understand, or how to compose myself for the enjoyment of\nit. The first thing I did was to recompense my original benefactor, my\ngood old captain, who had been first charitable to me in my distress,\nkind to me in my beginning, and honest to me at the end. I showed him\nall that was sent to me; I told him that, next to the providence of\nHeaven, which disposed all things, it was owing to him; and that it now\nlay on me to reward him, which I would do a hundred-fold: so I first\nreturned to him the hundred moidores I had received of him; then I sent\nfor a notary, and caused him to draw up a general release or discharge\nfrom the four hundred and seventy moidores, which he had acknowledged\nhe owed me, in the fullest and firmest manner possible. After which I\ncaused a procuration to be drawn, empowering him to be the receiver of\nthe annual profits of my plantation: and appointing my partner to\naccount with him, and make the returns, by the usual fleets, to him in\nmy name; and by a clause in the end, made a grant of one hundred\nmoidores a year to him during his life, out of the effects, and fifty\nmoidores a year to his son after him, for his life: and thus I requited\nmy old man.\nI had now to consider which way to steer my course next, and what to do\nwith the estate that Providence had thus put into my hands; and,\nindeed, I had more care upon my head now than I had in my state of life\nin the island where I wanted nothing but what I had, and had nothing\nbut what I wanted; whereas I had now a great charge upon me, and my\nbusiness was how to secure it. I had not a cave now to hide my money\nin, or a place where it might lie without lock or key, till it grew\nmouldy and tarnished before anybody would meddle with it; on the\ncontrary, I knew not where to put it, or whom to trust with it. My old\npatron, the captain, indeed, was honest, and that was the only refuge I\nhad. In the next place, my interest in the Brazils seemed to summon me\nthither; but now I could not tell how to think of going thither till I\nhad settled my affairs, and left my effects in some safe hands behind\nme. At first I thought of my old friend the widow, who I knew was\nhonest, and would be just to me; but then she was in years, and but\npoor, and, for aught I knew, might be in debt: so that, in a word, I\nhad no way but to go back to England myself and take my effects with\nme.\nIt was some months, however, before I resolved upon this; and,\ntherefore, as I had rewarded the old captain fully, and to his\nsatisfaction, who had been my former benefactor, so I began to think of\nthe poor widow, whose husband had been my first benefactor, and she,\nwhile it was in her power, my faithful steward and instructor. So, the\nfirst thing I did, I got a merchant in Lisbon to write to his\ncorrespondent in London, not only to pay a bill, but to go find her\nout, and carry her, in money, a hundred pounds from me, and to talk\nwith her, and comfort her in her poverty, by telling her she should, if\nI lived, have a further supply: at the same time I sent my two sisters\nin the country a hundred pounds each, they being, though not in want,\nyet not in very good circumstances; one having been married and left a\nwidow; and the other having a husband not so kind to her as he should\nbe. But among all my relations or acquaintances I could not yet pitch\nupon one to whom I durst commit the gross of my stock, that I might go\naway to the Brazils, and leave things safe behind me; and this greatly\nperplexed me.\nI had once a mind to have gone to the Brazils and have settled myself\nthere, for I was, as it were, naturalised to the place; but I had some\nlittle scruple in my mind about religion, which insensibly drew me\nback. However, it was not religion that kept me from going there for\nthe present; and as I had made no scruple of being openly of the\nreligion of the country all the while I was among them, so neither did\nI yet; only that, now and then, having of late thought more of it than\nformerly, when I began to think of living and dying among them, I began\nto regret having professed myself a Papist, and thought it might not be\nthe best religion to die with.\nBut, as I have said, this was not the main thing that kept me from\ngoing to the Brazils, but that really I did not know with whom to leave\nmy effects behind me; so I resolved at last to go to England, where, if\nI arrived, I concluded that I should make some acquaintance, or find\nsome relations, that would be faithful to me; and, accordingly, I\nprepared to go to England with all my wealth.\nIn order to prepare things for my going home, I first (the Brazil fleet\nbeing just going away) resolved to give answers suitable to the just\nand faithful account of things I had from thence; and, first, to the\nPrior of St. Augustine I wrote a letter full of thanks for his just\ndealings, and the offer of the eight hundred and seventy-two moidores\nwhich were undisposed of, which I desired might be given, five hundred\nto the monastery, and three hundred and seventy-two to the poor, as the\nprior should direct; desiring the good padre\u2019s prayers for me, and the\nlike. I wrote next a letter of thanks to my two trustees, with all the\nacknowledgment that so much justice and honesty called for: as for\nsending them any present, they were far above having any occasion of\nit. Lastly, I wrote to my partner, acknowledging his industry in the\nimproving the plantation, and his integrity in increasing the stock of\nthe works; giving him instructions for his future government of my\npart, according to the powers I had left with my old patron, to whom I\ndesired him to send whatever became due to me, till he should hear from\nme more particularly; assuring him that it was my intention not only to\ncome to him, but to settle myself there for the remainder of my life.\nTo this I added a very handsome present of some Italian silks for his\nwife and two daughters, for such the captain\u2019s son informed me he had;\nwith two pieces of fine English broadcloth, the best I could get in\nLisbon, five pieces of black baize, and some Flanders lace of a good\nvalue.\nHaving thus settled my affairs, sold my cargo, and turned all my\neffects into good bills of exchange, my next difficulty was which way\nto go to England: I had been accustomed enough to the sea, and yet I\nhad a strange aversion to go to England by the sea at that time, and\nyet I could give no reason for it, yet the difficulty increased upon me\nso much, that though I had once shipped my baggage in order to go, yet\nI altered my mind, and that not once but two or three times.\nIt is true I had been very unfortunate by sea, and this might be one of\nthe reasons; but let no man slight the strong impulses of his own\nthoughts in cases of such moment: two of the ships which I had singled\nout to go in, I mean more particularly singled out than any other,\nhaving put my things on board one of them, and in the other having\nagreed with the captain; I say two of these ships miscarried. One was\ntaken by the Algerines, and the other was lost on the Start, near\nTorbay, and all the people drowned except three; so that in either of\nthose vessels I had been made miserable.\nHaving been thus harassed in my thoughts, my old pilot, to whom I\ncommunicated everything, pressed me earnestly not to go by sea, but\neither to go by land to the Groyne, and cross over the Bay of Biscay to\nRochelle, from whence it was but an easy and safe journey by land to\nParis, and so to Calais and Dover; or to go up to Madrid, and so all\nthe way by land through France. In a word, I was so prepossessed\nagainst my going by sea at all, except from Calais to Dover, that I\nresolved to travel all the way by land; which, as I was not in haste,\nand did not value the charge, was by much the pleasanter way: and to\nmake it more so, my old captain brought an English gentleman, the son\nof a merchant in Lisbon, who was willing to travel with me; after which\nwe picked up two more English merchants also, and two young Portuguese\ngentlemen, the last going to Paris only; so that in all there were six\nof us and five servants; the two merchants and the two Portuguese,\ncontenting themselves with one servant between two, to save the charge;\nand as for me, I got an English sailor to travel with me as a servant,\nbesides my man Friday, who was too much a stranger to be capable of\nsupplying the place of a servant on the road.\nIn this manner I set out from Lisbon; and our company being very well\nmounted and armed, we made a little troop, whereof they did me the\nhonour to call me captain, as well because I was the oldest man, as\nbecause I had two servants, and, indeed, was the origin of the whole\njourney.\nAs I have troubled you with none of my sea journals, so I shall trouble\nyou now with none of my land journals; but some adventures that\nhappened to us in this tedious and difficult journey I must not omit.\nWhen we came to Madrid, we, being all of us strangers to Spain, were\nwilling to stay some time to see the court of Spain, and what was worth\nobserving; but it being the latter part of the summer, we hastened\naway, and set out from Madrid about the middle of October; but when we\ncame to the edge of Navarre, we were alarmed, at several towns on the\nway, with an account that so much snow was falling on the French side\nof the mountains, that several travellers were obliged to come back to\nPampeluna, after having attempted at an extreme hazard to pass on.\nWhen we came to Pampeluna itself, we found it so indeed; and to me,\nthat had been always used to a hot climate, and to countries where I\ncould scarce bear any clothes on, the cold was insufferable; nor,\nindeed, was it more painful than surprising to come but ten days before\nout of Old Castile, where the weather was not only warm but very hot,\nand immediately to feel a wind from the Pyrenean Mountains so very\nkeen, so severely cold, as to be intolerable and to endanger benumbing\nand perishing of our fingers and toes.\nPoor Friday was really frightened when he saw the mountains all covered\nwith snow, and felt cold weather, which he had never seen or felt\nbefore in his life. To mend the matter, when we came to Pampeluna it\ncontinued snowing with so much violence and so long, that the people\nsaid winter was come before its time; and the roads, which were\ndifficult before, were now quite impassable; for, in a word, the snow\nlay in some places too thick for us to travel, and being not hard\nfrozen, as is the case in the northern countries, there was no going\nwithout being in danger of being buried alive every step. We stayed no\nless than twenty days at Pampeluna; when (seeing the winter coming on,\nand no likelihood of its being better, for it was the severest winter\nall over Europe that had been known in the memory of man) I proposed\nthat we should go away to Fontarabia, and there take shipping for\nBordeaux, which was a very little voyage. But, while I was considering\nthis, there came in four French gentlemen, who, having been stopped on\nthe French side of the passes, as we were on the Spanish, had found out\na guide, who, traversing the country near the head of Languedoc, had\nbrought them over the mountains by such ways that they were not much\nincommoded with the snow; for where they met with snow in any quantity,\nthey said it was frozen hard enough to bear them and their horses. We\nsent for this guide, who told us he would undertake to carry us the\nsame way, with no hazard from the snow, provided we were armed\nsufficiently to protect ourselves from wild beasts; for, he said, in\nthese great snows it was frequent for some wolves to show themselves at\nthe foot of the mountains, being made ravenous for want of food, the\nground being covered with snow. We told him we were well enough\nprepared for such creatures as they were, if he would insure us from a\nkind of two-legged wolves, which we were told we were in most danger\nfrom, especially on the French side of the mountains. He satisfied us\nthat there was no danger of that kind in the way that we were to go; so\nwe readily agreed to follow him, as did also twelve other gentlemen\nwith their servants, some French, some Spanish, who, as I said, had\nattempted to go, and were obliged to come back again.\nAccordingly, we set out from Pampeluna with our guide on the 15th of\nNovember; and indeed I was surprised when, instead of going forward, he\ncame directly back with us on the same road that we came from Madrid,\nabout twenty miles; when, having passed two rivers, and come into the\nplain country, we found ourselves in a warm climate again, where the\ncountry was pleasant, and no snow to be seen; but, on a sudden, turning\nto his left, he approached the mountains another way; and though it is\ntrue the hills and precipices looked dreadful, yet he made so many\ntours, such meanders, and led us by such winding ways, that we\ninsensibly passed the height of the mountains without being much\nencumbered with the snow; and all on a sudden he showed us the pleasant\nand fruitful provinces of Languedoc and Gascony, all green and\nflourishing, though at a great distance, and we had some rough way to\npass still.\nWe were a little uneasy, however, when we found it snowed one whole day\nand a night so fast that we could not travel; but he bid us be easy; we\nshould soon be past it all: we found, indeed, that we began to descend\nevery day, and to come more north than before; and so, depending upon\nour guide, we went on.\nIt was about two hours before night when, our guide being something\nbefore us, and not just in sight, out rushed three monstrous wolves,\nand after them a bear, from a hollow way adjoining to a thick wood; two\nof the wolves made at the guide, and had he been far before us, he\nwould have been devoured before we could have helped him; one of them\nfastened upon his horse, and the other attacked the man with such\nviolence, that he had not time, or presence of mind enough, to draw his\npistol, but hallooed and cried out to us most lustily. My man Friday\nbeing next me, I bade him ride up and see what was the matter. As soon\nas Friday came in sight of the man, he hallooed out as loud as the\nother, \u201cO master! O master!\u201d but like a bold fellow, rode directly up\nto the poor man, and with his pistol shot the wolf in the head that\nattacked him.\nIt was happy for the poor man that it was my man Friday; for, having\nbeen used to such creatures in his country, he had no fear upon him,\nbut went close up to him and shot him; whereas, any other of us would\nhave fired at a farther distance, and have perhaps either missed the\nwolf or endangered shooting the man.\nBut it was enough to have terrified a bolder man than I; and, indeed,\nit alarmed all our company, when, with the noise of Friday\u2019s pistol, we\nheard on both sides the most dismal howling of wolves; and the noise,\nredoubled by the echo of the mountains, appeared to us as if there had\nbeen a prodigious number of them; and perhaps there was not such a few\nas that we had no cause of apprehension: however, as Friday had killed\nthis wolf, the other that had fastened upon the horse left him\nimmediately, and fled, without doing him any damage, having happily\nfastened upon his head, where the bosses of the bridle had stuck in his\nteeth. But the man was most hurt; for the raging creature had bit him\ntwice, once in the arm, and the other time a little above his knee; and\nthough he had made some defence, he was just tumbling down by the\ndisorder of his horse, when Friday came up and shot the wolf.\nIt is easy to suppose that at the noise of Friday\u2019s pistol we all\nmended our pace, and rode up as fast as the way, which was very\ndifficult, would give us leave, to see what was the matter. As soon as\nwe came clear of the trees, which blinded us before, we saw clearly\nwhat had been the case, and how Friday had disengaged the poor guide,\nthough we did not presently discern what kind of creature it was he had\nkilled.\nCHAPTER XX. FIGHT BETWEEN FRIDAY AND A BEAR\nBut never was a fight managed so hardily, and in such a surprising\nmanner as that which followed between Friday and the bear, which gave\nus all, though at first we were surprised and afraid for him, the\ngreatest diversion imaginable. As the bear is a heavy, clumsy creature,\nand does not gallop as the wolf does, who is swift and light, so he has\ntwo particular qualities, which generally are the rule of his actions;\nfirst, as to men, who are not his proper prey (he does not usually\nattempt them, except they first attack him, unless he be excessively\nhungry, which it is probable might now be the case, the ground being\ncovered with snow), if you do not meddle with him, he will not meddle\nwith you; but then you must take care to be very civil to him, and give\nhim the road, for he is a very nice gentleman; he will not go a step\nout of his way for a prince; nay, if you are really afraid, your best\nway is to look another way and keep going on; for sometimes if you\nstop, and stand still, and look steadfastly at him, he takes it for an\naffront; but if you throw or toss anything at him, though it were but a\nbit of stick as big as your finger, he thinks himself abused, and sets\nall other business aside to pursue his revenge, and will have\nsatisfaction in point of honour\u2014that is his first quality: the next is,\nif he be once affronted, he will never leave you, night or day, till he\nhas his revenge, but follows at a good round rate till he overtakes\nyou.\nMy man Friday had delivered our guide, and when we came up to him he\nwas helping him off his horse, for the man was both hurt and\nfrightened, when on a sudden we espied the bear come out of the wood;\nand a monstrous one it was, the biggest by far that ever I saw. We were\nall a little surprised when we saw him; but when Friday saw him, it was\neasy to see joy and courage in the fellow\u2019s countenance. \u201cO! O! O!\u201d\nsays Friday, three times, pointing to him; \u201cO master, you give me te\nleave, me shakee te hand with him; me makee you good laugh.\u201d\nI was surprised to see the fellow so well pleased. \u201cYou fool,\u201d says I,\n\u201che will eat you up.\u201d\u2014\u201cEatee me up! eatee me up!\u201d says Friday, twice\nover again; \u201cme eatee him up; me makee you good laugh; you all stay\nhere, me show you good laugh.\u201d So down he sits, and gets off his boots\nin a moment, and puts on a pair of pumps (as we call the flat shoes\nthey wear, and which he had in his pocket), gives my other servant his\nhorse, and with his gun away he flew, swift like the wind.\nThe bear was walking softly on, and offered to meddle with nobody, till\nFriday coming pretty near, calls to him, as if the bear could\nunderstand him. \u201cHark ye, hark ye,\u201d says Friday, \u201cme speakee with you.\u201d\nWe followed at a distance, for now being down on the Gascony side of\nthe mountains, we were entered a vast forest, where the country was\nplain and pretty open, though it had many trees in it scattered here\nand there. Friday, who had, as we say, the heels of the bear, came up\nwith him quickly, and took up a great stone, and threw it at him, and\nhit him just on the head, but did him no more harm than if he had\nthrown it against a wall; but it answered Friday\u2019s end, for the rogue\nwas so void of fear that he did it purely to make the bear follow him,\nand show us some laugh as he called it. As soon as the bear felt the\nblow, and saw him, he turns about and comes after him, taking very long\nstrides, and shuffling on at a strange rate, so as would have put a\nhorse to a middling gallop; away runs Friday, and takes his course as\nif he ran towards us for help; so we all resolved to fire at once upon\nthe bear, and deliver my man; though I was angry at him for bringing\nthe bear back upon us, when he was going about his own business another\nway; and especially I was angry that he had turned the bear upon us,\nand then ran away; and I called out, \u201cYou dog! is this your making us\nlaugh? Come away, and take your horse, that we may shoot the creature.\u201d\nHe heard me, and cried out, \u201cNo shoot, no shoot; stand still, and you\nget much laugh:\u201d and as the nimble creature ran two feet for the bear\u2019s\none, he turned on a sudden on one side of us, and seeing a great\noak-tree fit for his purpose, he beckoned to us to follow; and doubling\nhis pace, he got nimbly up the tree, laying his gun down upon the\nground, at about five or six yards from the bottom of the tree. The\nbear soon came to the tree, and we followed at a distance: the first\nthing he did he stopped at the gun, smelt at it, but let it lie, and up\nhe scrambles into the tree, climbing like a cat, though so monstrous\nheavy. I was amazed at the folly, as I thought it, of my man, and could\nnot for my life see anything to laugh at, till seeing the bear get up\nthe tree, we all rode near to him.\nWhen we came to the tree, there was Friday got out to the small end of\na large branch, and the bear got about half-way to him. As soon as the\nbear got out to that part where the limb of the tree was weaker, \u201cHa!\u201d\nsays he to us, \u201cnow you see me teachee the bear dance:\u201d so he began\njumping and shaking the bough, at which the bear began to totter, but\nstood still, and began to look behind him, to see how he should get\nback; then, indeed, we did laugh heartily. But Friday had not done with\nhim by a great deal; when seeing him stand still, he called out to him\nagain, as if he had supposed the bear could speak English, \u201cWhat, you\ncome no farther? pray you come farther;\u201d so he left jumping and shaking\nthe tree; and the bear, just as if he understood what he said, did come\na little farther; then he began jumping again, and the bear stopped\nagain. We thought now was a good time to knock him in the head, and\ncalled to Friday to stand still and we should shoot the bear: but he\ncried out earnestly, \u201cOh, pray! Oh, pray! no shoot, me shoot by and\nthen:\u201d he would have said by-and-by. However, to shorten the story,\nFriday danced so much, and the bear stood so ticklish, that we had\nlaughing enough, but still could not imagine what the fellow would do:\nfor first we thought he depended upon shaking the bear off; and we\nfound the bear was too cunning for that too; for he would not go out\nfar enough to be thrown down, but clung fast with his great broad claws\nand feet, so that we could not imagine what would be the end of it, and\nwhat the jest would be at last. But Friday put us out of doubt quickly:\nfor seeing the bear cling fast to the bough, and that he would not be\npersuaded to come any farther, \u201cWell, well,\u201d says Friday, \u201cyou no come\nfarther, me go; you no come to me, me come to you;\u201d and upon this he\nwent out to the smaller end, where it would bend with his weight, and\ngently let himself down by it, sliding down the bough till he came near\nenough to jump down on his feet, and away he ran to his gun, took it\nup, and stood still. \u201cWell,\u201d said I to him, \u201cFriday, what will you do\nnow? Why don\u2019t you shoot him?\u201d \u201cNo shoot,\u201d says Friday, \u201cno yet; me\nshoot now, me no kill; me stay, give you one more laugh:\u201d and, indeed,\nso he did; for when the bear saw his enemy gone, he came back from the\nbough, where he stood, but did it very cautiously, looking behind him\nevery step, and coming backward till he got into the body of the tree,\nthen, with the same hinder end foremost, he came down the tree,\ngrasping it with his claws, and moving one foot at a time, very\nleisurely. At this juncture, and just before he could set his hind foot\non the ground, Friday stepped up close to him, clapped the muzzle of\nhis piece into his ear, and shot him dead. Then the rogue turned about\nto see if we did not laugh; and when he saw we were pleased by our\nlooks, he began to laugh very loud. \u201cSo we kill bear in my country,\u201d\nsays Friday. \u201cSo you kill them?\u201d says I; \u201cwhy, you have no guns.\u201d\u2014\u201cNo,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cno gun, but shoot great much long arrow.\u201d This was a good\ndiversion to us; but we were still in a wild place, and our guide very\nmuch hurt, and what to do we hardly knew; the howling of wolves ran\nmuch in my head; and, indeed, except the noise I once heard on the\nshore of Africa, of which I have said something already, I never heard\nanything that filled me with so much horror.\nThese things, and the approach of night, called us off, or else, as\nFriday would have had us, we should certainly have taken the skin of\nthis monstrous creature off, which was worth saving; but we had near\nthree leagues to go, and our guide hastened us; so we left him, and\nwent forward on our journey.\nThe ground was still covered with snow, though not so deep and\ndangerous as on the mountains; and the ravenous creatures, as we heard\nafterwards, were come down into the forest and plain country, pressed\nby hunger, to seek for food, and had done a great deal of mischief in\nthe villages, where they surprised the country people, killed a great\nmany of their sheep and horses, and some people too.\nWe had one dangerous place to pass, and our guide told us if there were\nmore wolves in the country we should find them there; and this was a\nsmall plain, surrounded with woods on every side, and a long, narrow\ndefile, or lane, which we were to pass to get through the wood, and\nthen we should come to the village where we were to lodge.\nIt was within half-an-hour of sunset when we entered the wood, and a\nlittle after sunset when we came into the plain: we met with nothing in\nthe first wood, except that in a little plain within the wood, which\nwas not above two furlongs over, we saw five great wolves cross the\nroad, full speed, one after another, as if they had been in chase of\nsome prey, and had it in view; they took no notice of us, and were gone\nout of sight in a few moments. Upon this, our guide, who, by the way,\nwas but a fainthearted fellow, bid us keep in a ready posture, for he\nbelieved there were more wolves a-coming. We kept our arms ready, and\nour eyes about us; but we saw no more wolves till we came through that\nwood, which was near half a league, and entered the plain. As soon as\nwe came into the plain, we had occasion enough to look about us. The\nfirst object we met with was a dead horse; that is to say, a poor horse\nwhich the wolves had killed, and at least a dozen of them at work, we\ncould not say eating him, but picking his bones rather; for they had\neaten up all the flesh before. We did not think fit to disturb them at\ntheir feast, neither did they take much notice of us. Friday would have\nlet fly at them, but I would not suffer him by any means; for I found\nwe were like to have more business upon our hands than we were aware\nof. We had not gone half over the plain when we began to hear the\nwolves howl in the wood on our left in a frightful manner, and\npresently after we saw about a hundred coming on directly towards us,\nall in a body, and most of them in a line, as regularly as an army\ndrawn up by experienced officers. I scarce knew in what manner to\nreceive them, but found to draw ourselves in a close line was the only\nway; so we formed in a moment; but that we might not have too much\ninterval, I ordered that only every other man should fire, and that the\nothers, who had not fired, should stand ready to give them a second\nvolley immediately, if they continued to advance upon us; and then that\nthose that had fired at first should not pretend to load their fusees\nagain, but stand ready, every one with a pistol, for we were all armed\nwith a fusee and a pair of pistols each man; so we were, by this\nmethod, able to fire six volleys, half of us at a time; however, at\npresent we had no necessity; for upon firing the first volley, the\nenemy made a full stop, being terrified as well with the noise as with\nthe fire. Four of them being shot in the head, dropped; several others\nwere wounded, and went bleeding off, as we could see by the snow. I\nfound they stopped, but did not immediately retreat; whereupon,\nremembering that I had been told that the fiercest creatures were\nterrified at the voice of a man, I caused all the company to halloo as\nloud as they could; and I found the notion not altogether mistaken; for\nupon our shout they began to retire and turn about. I then ordered a\nsecond volley to be fired in their rear, which put them to the gallop,\nand away they went to the woods. This gave us leisure to charge our\npieces again; and that we might lose no time, we kept going; but we had\nbut little more than loaded our fusees, and put ourselves in readiness,\nwhen we heard a terrible noise in the same wood on our left, only that\nit was farther onward, the same way we were to go.\nThe night was coming on, and the light began to be dusky, which made it\nworse on our side; but the noise increasing, we could easily perceive\nthat it was the howling and yelling of those hellish creatures; and on\na sudden we perceived three troops of wolves, one on our left, one\nbehind us, and one in our front, so that we seemed to be surrounded\nwith them: however, as they did not fall upon us, we kept our way\nforward, as fast as we could make our horses go, which, the way being\nvery rough, was only a good hard trot. In this manner, we came in view\nof the entrance of a wood, through which we were to pass, at the\nfarther side of the plain; but we were greatly surprised, when coming\nnearer the lane or pass, we saw a confused number of wolves standing\njust at the entrance. On a sudden, at another opening of the wood, we\nheard the noise of a gun, and looking that way, out rushed a horse,\nwith a saddle and a bridle on him, flying like the wind, and sixteen or\nseventeen wolves after him, full speed: the horse had the advantage of\nthem; but as we supposed that he could not hold it at that rate, we\ndoubted not but they would get up with him at last: no question but\nthey did.\nBut here we had a most horrible sight; for riding up to the entrance\nwhere the horse came out, we found the carcasses of another horse and\nof two men, devoured by the ravenous creatures; and one of the men was\nno doubt the same whom we heard fire the gun, for there lay a gun just\nby him fired off; but as to the man, his head and the upper part of his\nbody was eaten up. This filled us with horror, and we knew not what\ncourse to take; but the creatures resolved us soon, for they gathered\nabout us presently, in hopes of prey; and I verily believe there were\nthree hundred of them. It happened, very much to our advantage, that at\nthe entrance into the wood, but a little way from it, there lay some\nlarge timber-trees, which had been cut down the summer before, and I\nsuppose lay there for carriage. I drew my little troop in among those\ntrees, and placing ourselves in a line behind one long tree, I advised\nthem all to alight, and keeping that tree before us for a breastwork,\nto stand in a triangle, or three fronts, enclosing our horses in the\ncentre. We did so, and it was well we did; for never was a more furious\ncharge than the creatures made upon us in this place. They came on with\na growling kind of noise, and mounted the piece of timber, which, as I\nsaid, was our breastwork, as if they were only rushing upon their prey;\nand this fury of theirs, it seems, was principally occasioned by their\nseeing our horses behind us. I ordered our men to fire as before, every\nother man; and they took their aim so sure that they killed several of\nthe wolves at the first volley; but there was a necessity to keep a\ncontinual firing, for they came on like devils, those behind pushing on\nthose before.\nWhen we had fired a second volley of our fusees, we thought they\nstopped a little, and I hoped they would have gone off, but it was but\na moment, for others came forward again; so we fired two volleys of our\npistols; and I believe in these four firings we had killed seventeen or\neighteen of them, and lamed twice as many, yet they came on again. I\nwas loth to spend our shot too hastily; so I called my servant, not my\nman Friday, for he was better employed, for, with the greatest\ndexterity imaginable, he had charged my fusee and his own while we were\nengaged\u2014but, as I said, I called my other man, and giving him a horn of\npowder, I had him lay a train all along the piece of timber, and let it\nbe a large train. He did so, and had but just time to get away, when\nthe wolves came up to it, and some got upon it, when I, snapping an\nuncharged pistol close to the powder, set it on fire; those that were\nupon the timber were scorched with it, and six or seven of them fell;\nor rather jumped in among us with the force and fright of the fire; we\ndespatched these in an instant, and the rest were so frightened with\nthe light, which the night\u2014for it was now very near dark\u2014made more\nterrible that they drew back a little; upon which I ordered our last\npistols to be fired off in one volley, and after that we gave a shout;\nupon this the wolves turned tail, and we sallied immediately upon near\ntwenty lame ones that we found struggling on the ground, and fell to\ncutting them with our swords, which answered our expectation, for the\ncrying and howling they made was better understood by their fellows; so\nthat they all fled and left us.\nWe had, first and last, killed about threescore of them, and had it\nbeen daylight we had killed many more. The field of battle being thus\ncleared, we made forward again, for we had still near a league to go.\nWe heard the ravenous creatures howl and yell in the woods as we went\nseveral times, and sometimes we fancied we saw some of them; but the\nsnow dazzling our eyes, we were not certain. In about an hour more we\ncame to the town where we were to lodge, which we found in a terrible\nfright and all in arms; for, it seems, the night before the wolves and\nsome bears had broken into the village, and put them in such terror\nthat they were obliged to keep guard night and day, but especially in\nthe night, to preserve their cattle, and indeed their people.\nThe next morning our guide was so ill, and his limbs swelled so much\nwith the rankling of his two wounds, that he could go no farther; so we\nwere obliged to take a new guide here, and go to Toulouse, where we\nfound a warm climate, a fruitful, pleasant country, and no snow, no\nwolves, nor anything like them; but when we told our story at Toulouse,\nthey told us it was nothing but what was ordinary in the great forest\nat the foot of the mountains, especially when the snow lay on the\nground; but they inquired much what kind of guide we had got who would\nventure to bring us that way in such a severe season, and told us it\nwas surprising we were not all devoured. When we told them how we\nplaced ourselves and the horses in the middle, they blamed us\nexceedingly, and told us it was fifty to one but we had been all\ndestroyed, for it was the sight of the horses which made the wolves so\nfurious, seeing their prey, and that at other times they are really\nafraid of a gun; but being excessively hungry, and raging on that\naccount, the eagerness to come at the horses had made them senseless of\ndanger, and that if we had not by the continual fire, and at last by\nthe stratagem of the train of powder, mastered them, it had been great\nodds but that we had been torn to pieces; whereas, had we been content\nto have sat still on horseback, and fired as horsemen, they would not\nhave taken the horses so much for their own, when men were on their\nbacks, as otherwise; and withal, they told us that at last, if we had\nstood altogether, and left our horses, they would have been so eager to\nhave devoured them, that we might have come off safe, especially having\nour firearms in our hands, being so many in number. For my part, I was\nnever so sensible of danger in my life; for, seeing above three hundred\ndevils come roaring and open-mouthed to devour us, and having nothing\nto shelter us or retreat to, I gave myself over for lost; and, as it\nwas, I believe I shall never care to cross those mountains again: I\nthink I would much rather go a thousand leagues by sea, though I was\nsure to meet with a storm once a-week.\nI have nothing uncommon to take notice of in my passage through\nFrance\u2014nothing but what other travellers have given an account of with\nmuch more advantage than I can. I travelled from Toulouse to Paris, and\nwithout any considerable stay came to Calais, and landed safe at Dover\nthe 14th of January, after having had a severe cold season to travel\nin.\nI was now come to the centre of my travels, and had in a little time\nall my new-discovered estate safe about me, the bills of exchange which\nI brought with me having been currently paid.\nMy principal guide and privy-counsellor was my good ancient widow, who,\nin gratitude for the money I had sent her, thought no pains too much\nnor care too great to employ for me; and I trusted her so entirely that\nI was perfectly easy as to the security of my effects; and, indeed, I\nwas very happy from the beginning, and now to the end, in the unspotted\nintegrity of this good gentlewoman.\nAnd now, having resolved to dispose of my plantation in the Brazils, I\nwrote to my old friend at Lisbon, who, having offered it to the two\nmerchants, the survivors of my trustees, who lived in the Brazils, they\naccepted the offer, and remitted thirty-three thousand pieces of eight\nto a correspondent of theirs at Lisbon to pay for it.\nIn return, I signed the instrument of sale in the form which they sent\nfrom Lisbon, and sent it to my old man, who sent me the bills of\nexchange for thirty-two thousand eight hundred pieces of eight for the\nestate, reserving the payment of one hundred moidores a year to him\n(the old man) during his life, and fifty moidores afterwards to his son\nfor his life, which I had promised them, and which the plantation was\nto make good as a rent-charge. And thus I have given the first part of\na life of fortune and adventure\u2014a life of Providence\u2019s chequer-work,\nand of a variety which the world will seldom be able to show the like\nof; beginning foolishly, but closing much more happily than any part of\nit ever gave me leave so much as to hope for.\nAny one would think that in this state of complicated good fortune I\nwas past running any more hazards\u2014and so, indeed, I had been, if other\ncircumstances had concurred; but I was inured to a wandering life, had\nno family, nor many relations; nor, however rich, had I contracted\nfresh acquaintance; and though I had sold my estate in the Brazils, yet\nI could not keep that country out of my head, and had a great mind to\nbe upon the wing again; especially I could not resist the strong\ninclination I had to see my island, and to know if the poor Spaniards\nwere in being there. My true friend, the widow, earnestly dissuaded me\nfrom it, and so far prevailed with me, that for almost seven years she\nprevented my running abroad, during which time I took my two nephews,\nthe children of one of my brothers, into my care; the eldest, having\nsomething of his own, I bred up as a gentleman, and gave him a\nsettlement of some addition to his estate after my decease. The other I\nplaced with the captain of a ship; and after five years, finding him a\nsensible, bold, enterprising young fellow, I put him into a good ship,\nand sent him to sea; and this young fellow afterwards drew me in, as\nold as I was, to further adventures myself.\nIn the meantime, I in part settled myself here; for, first of all, I\nmarried, and that not either to my disadvantage or dissatisfaction, and\nhad three children, two sons and one daughter; but my wife dying, and\nmy nephew coming home with good success from a voyage to Spain, my\ninclination to go abroad, and his importunity, prevailed, and engaged\nme to go in his ship as a private trader to the East Indies; this was\nin the year 1694.\nIn this voyage I visited my new colony in the island, saw my successors\nthe Spaniards, had the old story of their lives and of the villains I\nleft there; how at first they insulted the poor Spaniards, how they\nafterwards agreed, disagreed, united, separated, and how at last the\nSpaniards were obliged to use violence with them; how they were\nsubjected to the Spaniards, how honestly the Spaniards used them\u2014a\nhistory, if it were entered into, as full of variety and wonderful\naccidents as my own part\u2014particularly, also, as to their battles with\nthe Caribbeans, who landed several times upon the island, and as to the\nimprovement they made upon the island itself, and how five of them made\nan attempt upon the mainland, and brought away eleven men and five\nwomen prisoners, by which, at my coming, I found about twenty young\nchildren on the island.\nHere I stayed about twenty days, left them supplies of all necessary\nthings, and particularly of arms, powder, shot, clothes, tools, and two\nworkmen, which I had brought from England with me, viz. a carpenter and\na smith.\nBesides this, I shared the lands into parts with them, reserved to\nmyself the property of the whole, but gave them such parts respectively\nas they agreed on; and having settled all things with them, and engaged\nthem not to leave the place, I left them there.\nFrom thence I touched at the Brazils, from whence I sent a bark, which\nI bought there, with more people to the island; and in it, besides\nother supplies, I sent seven women, being such as I found proper for\nservice, or for wives to such as would take them. As to the Englishmen,\nI promised to send them some women from England, with a good cargo of\nnecessaries, if they would apply themselves to planting\u2014which I\nafterwards could not perform. The fellows proved very honest and\ndiligent after they were mastered and had their properties set apart\nfor them. I sent them, also, from the Brazils, five cows, three of them\nbeing big with calf, some sheep, and some hogs, which when I came again\nwere considerably increased.\nBut all these things, with an account how three hundred Caribbees came\nand invaded them, and ruined their plantations, and how they fought\nwith that whole number twice, and were at first defeated, and one of\nthem killed; but at last, a storm destroying their enemies\u2019 canoes,\nthey famished or destroyed almost all the rest, and renewed and\nrecovered the possession of their plantation, and still lived upon the\nisland.\nAll these things, with some very surprising incidents in some new\nadventures of my own, for ten years more, I shall give a farther\naccount of in the Second Part of my Story.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Bethanne M. Simms, Louise Pryor and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\nECLECTIC ENGLISH CLASSICS\nHISTORY\nOF\nTHE PLAGUE IN LONDON\nBY\nDANIEL DEFOE\nNEW YORK \u00b7:\u00b7 CINCINNATI \u00b7:\u00b7 CHICAGO\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\nCopyright, 1894, by\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.\nDEFOE--THE PLAGUE IN LONDON.\n[Illustration: PRINCIPAL WARDS AND PARISHES IN THE CITY OF LONDON,\n[Illustration: LONDON AND THE SUBURBS, SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.]\nINTRODUCTION.\nThe father of Daniel Defoe was a butcher in the parish of St. Giles's,\nCripplegate, London. In this parish, probably, Daniel Defoe was born in\n1661, the year after the restoration of Charles II. The boy's parents\nwished him to become a dissenting minister, and so intrusted his\neducation to a Mr. Morton who kept an academy for the training of\nnonconformist divines. How long Defoe staid at this school is not known.\nHe seems to think himself that he staid there long enough to become a\ngood scholar; for he declares that the pupils were \"made masters of the\nEnglish tongue, and more of them excelled in that particular than of any\nschool at that time.\" If this statement be true, we can only say that\nthe other schools must have been very bad indeed. Defoe never acquired a\nreally good style, and can in no true sense be called a \"master of the\nEnglish tongue.\"\nNature had gifted Defoe with untiring energy, a keen taste for public\naffairs, and a special aptitude for chicanery and intrigue. These were\nnot qualities likely to advance him in the ministry, and he wisely\nrefused to adopt that profession. With a young man's love for adventure\nand a dissenter's hatred for Roman Catholicism, he took part in the Duke\nof Monmouth's rebellion (1685) against James II. More fortunate than\nthree of his fellow students, who were executed for their share in this\naffair, Defoe escaped the hue and cry that followed the battle of\nSedgemoor, and after some months' concealment set up as a wholesale\nmerchant in Cornhill. When James II. was deposed in 1688, and the\nProtestant William of Orange elected to the English throne, Defoe\nhastened to give in his allegiance to the new dynasty. In 1691 he\npublished his first pamphlet, \"A New Discovery of an Old Intrigue, a\nSatire leveled at Treachery and Ambition.\" This is written in miserable\ndoggerel verse. That Defoe should have mistaken it for poetry, and\nshould have prided himself upon it accordingly, is only a proof of how\nincompetent an author is to pass judgment upon what is good and what is\nbad in his own work.\nIn 1692 Defoe failed in business, probably from too much attention to\npolitics, which were now beginning to engross more and more of his time\nand thoughts. His political attitude is clearly defined in the title of\nhis next pamphlet, \"The Englishman's Choice and True Interest: in the\nVigorous Prosecution of the War against France, and serving K. William\nand Q. Mary, and acknowledging their Right.\" \"K. William\" was too astute\na manager to neglect a writer who showed the capacity to become a\ndangerous opponent. Defoe was accordingly given the place of accountant\nto the commissioners of the glass duty (1694). From this time until\nWilliam's death (1702), he had no more loyal and active servant than\nDefoe. Innumerable pamphlets bear tribute to his devotion to the King\nand his policy,--pamphlets written in an easy, swinging, good-natured\nstyle, with little imagination and less passion; pamphlets whose\nprincipal arguments are based upon a reasonable self-interest, and for\nthe comprehension of which no more intellectual power is called for than\nProvidence has doled out to the average citizen. Had Defoe lived in the\nnineteenth century, instead of in the seventeenth, he would have\ncommanded a princely salary as writer for the Sunday newspaper, and as\ncomposer of campaign documents and of speeches for members of the House\nof Representatives.\nIn 1701 Defoe published his \"True-born Englishman,\" a satire upon the\nEnglish people for their stupid opposition to the continental policy of\nthe King. This is the only metrical composition of prolific Daniel that\nhas any pretensions to be called a poem. It contains some lines not\nunworthy to rank with those of Dryden at his second-best. For instance,\nthe opening:--\n    \"Wherever God erects a house of prayer,\n    The Devil always builds a chapel there;\n    And 'twill be found upon examination\n    The latter has the largest congregation.\"\nOr, again, this keen and spirited description of the origin of the\nEnglish race:--\n    \"These are the heroes that despise the Dutch,\n    And rail at newcome foreigners so much,\n    Forgetting that themselves are all derived\n    From the most scoundrel race that ever lived;\n    A horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones,\n    Who ransacked kingdoms and dispeopled towns:\n    The Pict and painted Briton, treach'rous Scot\n    By hunger, theft, and rapine hither brought;\n    Norwegian pirates, buccaneering Danes,\n    Whose red-haired offspring everywhere remains:\n    Who, joined with Norman French, compound the breed\n    From whence your true-born Englishmen proceed.\"\nStrange to say, the English people were so pleased with this humorous\nsketch of themselves, that they bought eighty thousand copies of the\nwork. Not often is a truth teller so rewarded.\nNot unnaturally elated by the success of this experiment, the next year\nDefoe came out with his famous \"Shortest Way with the Dissenters,\" a\nsatire upon those furious High Churchmen and Tories, who would devour\nthe dissenters tooth and nail. Unfortunately, the author had\noverestimated the capacity of the average Tory to see through a stone\nwall. The irony was mistaken for sincerity, and quoted approvingly by\nthose whom it was intended to satirize. When the truth dawned through\nthe obscuration of the Tories' intellect, they were naturally enraged.\nThey had influence enough to have Defoe arrested, and confined in\nNewgate for some eighteen months. He was also compelled to stand in the\npillory for three days; but it is not true that his ears were cropped,\nas Pope intimates in his\n    \"Earless on high stood unabashed Defoe.\"\nWhat are the exact terms Defoe made with the ministry, and on exactly\nwhat conditions he was released from Newgate, have not been ascertained.\nIt is certain he never ceased to write, even while in prison, both\nanonymously and under his own name. For some years, in addition to\npamphlet after pamphlet, he published a newspaper which he called the\n\"Review,\"[1] in which he generally sided with the moderate Whigs,\nadvocated earnestly the union with Scotland, and gave the English people\na vast deal of good advice upon foreign policy and domestic trade. There\nis no doubt that during this time he was in the secret service of the\ngovernment. When the Tories displaced the Whigs in 1710, he managed to\nkeep his post, and took his \"Review\" over to the support of the new\nmasters, justifying his turncoating by a disingenuous plea of preferring\ncountry to party. His pamphleteering pen was now as active in the\nservice of the Tory prime minister Harley as it had been in that of the\nWhig Godolphin. The party of the latter rightly regarded him as a\ntraitor to their cause, and secured an order from the Court of Queen's\nBench, directing the attorney-general to prosecute Defoe for certain\npamphlets, which they declared were directed against the Hanoverian\nsuccession. Before the trial took place, Harley, at whose instigation\nthe pamphlets had been written, secured his henchman a royal pardon.\nWhen the Tories fell from power at the death of Queen Anne (1714), and\nthe Whigs again obtained possession of the government, only one of two\ncourses was open to Defoe: he must either retire permanently from\npolitics, or again change sides. He unhesitatingly chose the latter. But\nhis political reputation had now sunk so low, that no party could afford\nthe disgrace of his open support. He was accordingly employed as a\nliterary and political spy, ostensibly opposing the government, worming\nhimself into the confidence of Tory editors and politicians, using his\ninfluence as an editorial writer to suppress items obnoxious to the\ngovernment, and suggesting the timely prosecution of such critics as he\ncould not control. He was able to play this double part for eight years,\nuntil his treachery was discovered by one Mist, whose \"Journal\" Defoe\nhad, in his own words, \"disabled and enervated, so as to do no mischief,\nor give any offense to the government.\" Mist hastened to disclose\nDefoe's real character to his fellow newspaper proprietors; and in 1726\nwe find the good Daniel sorrowfully complaining, \"I had not published my\nproject in this pamphlet, could I have got it inserted in any of the\njournals without feeing the journalists or publishers.... I have not\nonly had the mortification to find what I sent rejected, but to lose my\noriginals, not having taken copies of what I wrote.\"[2] Heavy-footed\njustice had at last overtaken the arch liar of his age.\nOf the two hundred and fifty odd books and pamphlets written by Defoe,\nit may fairly be said that only two--\"Robinson Crusoe\" and the \"History\nof the Plague in London\"--are read by any but the special students of\neighteenth-century literature. The latter will be discussed in another\npart of this Introduction. Of the former it may be asserted, that it\narose naturally out of the circumstances of Defoe's trade as a\njournalist. So long as the papers would take his articles, nobody of\ndistinction could die without Defoe's rushing out with a biography of\nhim. In these biographies, when facts were scanty, Defoe supplied them\nfrom his imagination, attributing to his hero such sentiments as he\nthought the average Londoner could understand, and describing his\nappearance with that minute fidelity of which only an eyewitness is\nsupposed to be capable. Long practice in this kind of composition made\nDefoe an adept in the art of \"lying like truth.\" When, therefore, the\nactual and extraordinary adventures of Alexander Selkirk came under his\nnotice, nothing was more natural and more profitable for Defoe than to\nseize upon this material, and work it up, just as he worked up the lives\nof Jack Sheppard the highwayman, and of Avery the king of the pirates.\nIt is interesting to notice also that the date of publication of\n\"Robinson Crusoe\" (1719) corresponds with a time at which Defoe was\nplaying the desperate and dangerous game of a political spy. A single\nfalse move might bring him a stab in the dark, or might land him in the\nhulks for transportation to some tropical island, where he might have\nabundant need for the exercise of those mental resources that interest\nus so much in Crusoe. The secret of Defoe's life at this time was known\nonly to himself and to the minister that paid him. He was almost as much\nalone in London as was Crusoe on his desert island.\nThe success which Defoe scored in \"Robinson Crusoe\" he never repeated.\nHis entire lack of artistic conscience is shown by his adding a dull\nsecond part to \"Robinson Crusoe,\" and a duller series of serious\nreflections such as might have passed through Crusoe's mind during his\nisland captivity. Of even the best of Defoe's other novels,--\"Moll\nFlanders,\" \"Roxana,\" \"Captain Singleton,\"--the writer must confess that\nhis judgment coincides with that of Mr. Leslie Stephen, who finds two\nthirds of them \"deadly dull,\" and the treatment such as \"cannot raise\n[the story] above a very moderate level.\"[3]\nThe closing scenes of Defoe's life were not cheerful. He appears to have\nlost most of the fortune he acquired from his numerous writings and\nscarcely less numerous speculations. For the two years immediately\npreceding his death, he lived in concealment away from his home, though\nwhy he fled, and from what danger, is not definitely known. He died in a\nlodging in Ropemaker's Alley, Moorfields, on April 26, 1731.\nThe only description we have of Defoe's personal appearance is an\nadvertisement published in 1703, when he was in hiding to avoid arrest\nfor his \"Shortest Way with the Dissenters:\"--\n\"He is a middle-aged, spare man, about forty years old, of a brown\ncomplexion, and dark-brown colored hair, but wears a wig; a hooked nose,\na sharp chin, gray eyes, and a large mole near his mouth.\"\nIn the years 1720-21 the plague, which had not visited Western Europe\nfor fifty-five years, broke out with great violence in Marseilles. About\nfifty thousand people died of the disease in that city, and great alarm\nwas felt in London lest the infection should reach England. Here was a\njournalistic chance that so experienced a newspaper man as Defoe could\nnot let slip. Accordingly, on the 17th of March, 1722, appeared his\n\"Journal of the Plague Year: Being Observations or Memorials of the most\nRemarkable Occurrences, as well Publick as Private, which happened in\nLondon during the Last Great Visitation in 1665. Written by a Citizen\nwho continued all the while in London. Never made public before.\" The\nstory is told with such an air of veracity, the little circumstantial\ndetails are introduced with such apparent artlessness, the grotesque\nincidents are described with such animation, (and relish!) the horror\nborne in upon the mind of the narrator is so apparently genuine, that we\ncan easily understand how almost everybody not in the secret of the\nauthorship believed he had here an authentic \"Journal,\" written by one\nwho had actually beheld the scenes he describes. Indeed, we know that\ntwenty-three years after the \"Journal\" was published, this impression\nstill prevailed; for Defoe is gravely quoted as an authority in \"A\nDiscourse on the Plague; by Richard Mead, Fellow of the College of\nPhysicians and of the Royal Society, and Physician to his Majesty. 9th\nEdition. London, 1744.\" Though Defoe, like his admiring critic Mr.\nSaintsbury, had but small sense of humor, even he must have felt tickled\nin his grave at this ponderous scientific tribute to his skill in the\nart of realistic description.\nIf we inquire further into the secret of Defoe's success in the \"History\nof the Plague,\" we shall find that it consists largely in his vision,\nor power of seeing clearly and accurately what he describes, before he\nattempts to put this description on paper. As Defoe was but four years\nold at the time of the Great Plague, his personal recollection of its\neffects must have been of the dimmest; but during the years of childhood\n(the most imaginative of life) he must often have conversed with persons\nwho had been through the plague, possibly with those who had recovered\nfrom it themselves. He must often have visited localities ravaged by the\nplague, and spared by the Great Fire of 1666; he must often have gazed\nin childish horror at those awful mounds beneath which hundreds of human\nbodies lay huddled together,--rich and poor, high and low, scoundrel and\nsaint,--sharing one common bed at last. His retentive memory must have\nstored away at least the outline of those hideous images, so effectively\nrecombined many years later by means of his powerful though limited\nimagination.\nDefoe had the ability to become a good scholar, and to acquire the\nelements of a good English style; but it is certain he never did. He\nnever had time, or rather he never took time, preferring invariably\nquantity to quality. What work of his has survived till to-day is read,\nnot for its style, but in spite of its style. His syntax is loose and\nunscholarly; his vocabulary is copious, but often inaccurate; many of\nhis sentences ramble on interminably, lacking unity, precision, and\nbalance. Figures of speech he seldom abuses because he seldom uses; his\nimagination, as noticed before, being extremely limited in range. That\nDefoe, in spite of these defects, should succeed in interesting us in\nhis \"Plague,\" is a remarkable tribute to his peculiar ability as\ndescribed in the preceding paragraph.\nIn the course of the Notes, the editor has indicated such corrections\nas are necessary to prevent the student from thinking that in reading\nDefoe he is drinking from a \"well of English undefiled.\" The art of\nwriting an English prose at once scholarly, clear-cut, and vigorous, was\nwell understood by Defoe's great contemporaries, Dryden, Swift, and\nCongreve; it does not seem to have occurred to Defoe that he could learn\nanything from their practice. He has his reward. \"Robinson Crusoe\" may\ncontinue to hold the child and the kitchen wench; but the \"Essay on\nDramatic Poesy,\" \"The Battle of the Books,\" and \"Love for Love,\" are for\nthe men and women of culture.\nThe standard Life of Defoe is by William Lee (London, J.C. Hotten,\n1869). William Minto, in the \"English Men of Letters Series,\" has an\nexcellent short biography of Defoe. For criticism, the only good\nestimate I am acquainted with is by Leslie Stephen, in \"Hours in a\nLibrary, First Series.\" The nature of the article on Defoe in the\n\"Britannica\" may be indicated by noticing that the writer (Saintsbury)\nseriously compares Defoe with Carlyle as a descriptive writer. It would\nbe consoling to think that this is intended as a joke.\nThose who wish to know more about the plague than Defoe tells them\nshould consult Besant's \"London,\" pp. 376-394 (New York, Harpers).\nBesant refers to two pamphlets, \"The Wonderful Year\" and \"Vox\nCivitatis,\" which he thinks Defoe must have used in writing his book.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[1] At first, a weekly; with the fifth number, a bi-weekly; after the\nfirst year, a tri-weekly.\n[2] Preface to his pamphlet entitled Street Robberies.\n[3] For a very different estimate, see Saintsbury's Selections from\nDefoe's Minor Novels.\nHISTORY\nOF\nTHE PLAGUE IN LONDON.\nIt was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among\nthe rest of my neighbors, heard in ordinary discourse that the\nplague was returned again in Holland; for it had been very\nviolent there, and particularly at Amsterdam and Rotterdam, in\nthe year 1663, whither, they say, it was brought (some said from\nItaly, others from the Levant) among some goods which were\nbrought home by their Turkey fleet; others said it was brought\nfrom Candia; others, from Cyprus. It mattered not from whence\nit came; but all agreed it was come into Holland again.[4]\nWe had no such thing as printed newspapers in those days, to\nspread rumors and reports of things, and to improve them by the\ninvention of men, as I have lived to see practiced since. But\nsuch things as those were gathered from the letters of merchants\nand others who corresponded abroad, and from them was handed\nabout by word of mouth only; so that things did not spread instantly\nover the whole nation, as they do now. But it seems that\nthe government had a true account of it, and several counsels[5]\nwere held about ways to prevent its coming over; but all was\nkept very private. Hence it was that this rumor died off again;\nand people began to forget it, as a thing we were very little concerned\nin and that we hoped was not true, till the latter end of\nNovember or the beginning of December, 1664, when two men,\nsaid to be Frenchmen, died of the plague in Longacre, or rather\nat the upper end of Drury Lane.[6] The family they were in endeavored\nto conceal it as much as possible; but, as it had gotten\nsome vent in the discourse of the neighborhood, the secretaries\nof state[7] got knowledge of it. And concerning themselves to\ninquire about it, in order to be certain of the truth, two physicians\nand a surgeon were ordered to go to the house, and make inspection.\nThis they did, and finding evident tokens[8] of the sickness\nupon both the bodies that were dead, they gave their opinions\npublicly that they died of the plague. Whereupon it was given\nin to the parish clerk,[9] and he also returned them[10] to the hall; and\nit was printed in the weekly bill of mortality in the usual manner,\nthus:--\n    PLAGUE, 2. PARISHES INFECTED, 1.\nThe people showed a great concern at this, and began to be alarmed all\nover the town, and the more because in the last week in December, 1664,\nanother man died in the same house and of the same distemper. And then\nwe were easy again for about six weeks, when, none having died with any\nmarks of infection, it was said the distemper was gone; but after that,\nI think it was about the 12th of February, another died in another\nhouse, but in the same parish and in the same manner.\nThis turned the people's eyes pretty much towards that end of the town;\nand, the weekly bills showing an increase of burials in St. Giles's\nParish more than usual, it began to be suspected that the plague was\namong the people at that end of the town, and that many had died of it,\nthough they had taken care to keep it as much from the knowledge of the\npublic as possible. This possessed the heads of the people very much;\nand few cared to go through Drury Lane, or the other streets suspected,\nunless they had extraordinary business that obliged them to it.\nThis increase of the bills stood thus: the usual number of burials in a\nweek, in the parishes of St. Giles-in-the-Fields and St. Andrew's,\nHolborn,[11] were[12] from twelve to seventeen or nineteen each, few\nmore or less; but, from the time that the plague first began in St.\nGiles's Parish, it was observed that the ordinary burials increased in\nnumber considerably. For example:--\n              Whereof one of the plague.\nThe like increase of the bills was observed in the parishes of St.\nBride's, adjoining on one side of Holborn Parish, and in the parish of\nSt. James's, Clerkenwell, adjoining on the other side of Holborn; in\nboth which parishes the usual numbers that died weekly were from four to\nsix or eight, whereas at that time they were increased as follows:--\nBesides this, it was observed, with great uneasiness by the people, that\nthe weekly bills in general increased very much during these weeks,\nalthough it was at a time of the year when usually the bills are very\nmoderate.\nThe usual number of burials within the bills of mortality for a week was\nfrom about two hundred and forty, or thereabouts, to three hundred. The\nlast was esteemed a pretty high bill; but after this we found the bills\nsuccessively increasing, as follows:--\nThis last bill was really frightful, being a higher number than had\nbeen known to have been buried in one week since the preceding\nvisitation of 1656.\nHowever, all this went off again; and the weather proving cold, and the\nfrost, which began in December, still continuing very severe, even till\nnear the end of February, attended with sharp though moderate winds, the\nbills decreased again, and the city grew healthy; and everybody began to\nlook upon the danger as good as over, only that still the burials in St.\nGiles's continued high. From the beginning of April, especially, they\nstood at twenty-five each week, till the week from the 18th to the 25th,\nwhen there was[13] buried in St. Giles's Parish thirty, whereof two of\nthe plague, and eight of the spotted fever (which was looked upon as the\nsame thing); likewise the number that died of the spotted fever in the\nwhole increased, being eight the week before, and twelve the week above\nnamed.\nThis alarmed us all again; and terrible apprehensions were among the\npeople, especially the weather being now changed and growing warm, and\nthe summer being at hand. However, the next week there seemed to be some\nhopes again: the bills were low; the number of the dead in all was but\n388; there was none of the plague, and but four of the spotted fever.\nBut the following week it returned again, and the distemper was spread\ninto two or three other parishes, viz., St. Andrew's, Holborn, St.\nClement's-Danes; and, to the great affliction of the city, one died\nwithin the walls, in the parish of St. Mary-Wool-Church, that is to say,\nin Bearbinder Lane, near Stocks Market: in all, there were nine of the\nplague, and six of the spotted fever. It was, however, upon inquiry,\nfound that this Frenchman who died in Bearbinder Lane was one who,\nhaving lived in Longacre, near the infected houses, had removed for fear\nof the distemper, not knowing that he was already infected.\nThis was the beginning of May, yet the weather was temperate, variable,\nand cool enough, and people had still some hopes. That which encouraged\nthem was, that the city was healthy. The whole ninety-seven parishes\nburied but fifty-four, and we began to hope, that, as it was chiefly\namong the people at that end of the town, it might go no farther; and\nthe rather, because the next week, which was from the 9th of May to the\n16th, there died but three, of which not one within the whole city or\nliberties;[14] and St. Andrew's buried but fifteen, which was very low.\nIt is true, St. Giles's buried two and thirty; but still, as there was\nbut one of the plague, people began to be easy. The whole bill also was\nvery low: for the week before, the bill was but three hundred and\nforty-seven; and the week above mentioned, but three hundred and\nforty-three. We continued in these hopes for a few days; but it was but\nfor a few, for the people were no more to be deceived thus. They\nsearched the houses, and found that the plague was really spread every\nway, and that many died of it every day; so that now all our\nextenuations[15] abated, and it was no more to be concealed. Nay, it\nquickly appeared that the infection had spread itself beyond all hopes\nof abatement; that in the parish of St. Giles's it was gotten into\nseveral streets, and several families lay all sick together; and\naccordingly, in the weekly bill for the next week, the thing began to\nshow itself. There was indeed but fourteen set down of the plague, but\nthis was all knavery and collusion; for St. Giles's Parish, they buried\nforty in all, whereof it was certain most of them died of the plague,\nthough they were set down of other distempers. And though the number of\nall the burials were[16] not increased above thirty-two, and the whole\nbill being but three hundred and eighty-five, yet there was[17] fourteen\nof the spotted fever, as well as fourteen of the plague; and we took it\nfor granted, upon the whole, that there were fifty died that week of the\nplague.\nThe next bill was from the 23d of May to the 30th, when the number of\nthe plague was seventeen; but the burials in St. Giles's were\nfifty-three, a frightful number, of whom they set down but nine of the\nplague. But on an examination more strictly by the justices of the\npeace, and at the lord mayor's[18] request, it was found there were\ntwenty more who were really dead of the plague in that parish, but had\nbeen set down of the spotted fever, or other distempers, besides others\nconcealed.\nBut those were trifling things to what followed immediately after. For\nnow the weather set in hot; and from the first week in June, the\ninfection spread in a dreadful manner, and the bills rise[19] high; the\narticles of the fever, spotted fever, and teeth, began to swell: for all\nthat could conceal their distempers did it to prevent their neighbors\nshunning and refusing to converse with them, and also to prevent\nauthority shutting up their houses, which, though it was not yet\npracticed, yet was threatened; and people were extremely terrified at\nthe thoughts of it.\nThe second week in June, the parish of St. Giles's, where still the\nweight of the infection lay, buried one hundred and twenty, whereof,\nthough the bills said but sixty-eight of the plague, everybody said\nthere had been a hundred at least, calculating it from the usual number\nof funerals in that parish as above.\nTill this week the city continued free, there having never any died\nexcept that one Frenchman, who[20] I mentioned before, within the whole\nninety-seven parishes. Now, there died four within the city,--one in\nWood Street, one in Fenchurch Street, and two in Crooked Lane. Southwark\nwas entirely free, having not one yet died on that side of the water.\nI lived without Aldgate, about midway between Aldgate Church and\nWhitechapel Bars, on the left hand, or north side, of the street; and as\nthe distemper had not reached to that side of the city, our neighborhood\ncontinued very easy. But at the other end of the town their\nconsternation was very great; and the richer sort of people, especially\nthe nobility and gentry from the west part of the city, thronged out of\ntown, with their families and servants, in an unusual manner. And this\nwas more particularly seen in Whitechapel; that is to say, the Broad\nStreet where I lived. Indeed, nothing was to be seen but wagons and\ncarts, with goods, women, servants, children, etc.; coaches filled with\npeople of the better sort, and horsemen attending them, and all hurrying\naway; then empty wagons and carts appeared, and spare horses with\nservants, who it was apparent were returning, or sent from the country\nto fetch more people; besides innumerable numbers of men on horseback,\nsome alone, others with servants, and, generally speaking, all loaded\nwith baggage, and fitted out for traveling, as any one might perceive by\ntheir appearance.\nThis was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and as it was a\nsight which I could not but look on from morning to night (for indeed\nthere was nothing else of moment to be seen), it filled me with very\nserious thoughts of the misery that was coming upon the city, and the\nunhappy condition of those that would be left in it.\nThis hurry of the people was such for some weeks, that there was no\ngetting at the lord mayor's door without exceeding difficulty; there was\nsuch pressing and crowding there to get passes and certificates of\nhealth for such as traveled abroad; for, without these, there was no\nbeing admitted to pass through the towns upon the road, or to lodge in\nany inn. Now, as there had none died in the city for all this time, my\nlord mayor gave certificates of health without any difficulty to all\nthose who lived in the ninety-seven parishes, and to those within the\nliberties too, for a while.\nThis hurry, I say, continued some weeks, that is to say, all the months\nof May and June; and the more because it was rumored that an order of\nthe government was to be issued out, to place turnpikes[21] and barriers\non the road to prevent people's traveling; and that the towns on the\nroad would not suffer people from London to pass, for fear of bringing\nthe infection along with them, though neither of these rumors had any\nfoundation but in the imagination, especially at first.\nI now began to consider seriously with myself concerning my own case,\nand how I should dispose of myself; that is to say, whether I should\nresolve to stay in London, or shut up my house and flee, as many of my\nneighbors did. I have set this particular down so fully, because I know\nnot but it may be of moment to those who come after me, if they come to\nbe brought to the same distress and to the same manner of making their\nchoice; and therefore I desire this account may pass with them rather\nfor a direction to themselves to act by than a history of my actings,\nseeing it may not be of one farthing value to them to note what became\nof me.\nI had two important things before me: the one was the carrying on my\nbusiness and shop, which was considerable, and in which was embarked all\nmy effects in the world; and the other was the preservation of my life\nin so dismal a calamity as I saw apparently was coming upon the whole\ncity, and which, however great it was, my fears perhaps, as well as\nother people's, represented to be much greater than it could be.\nThe first consideration was of great moment to me. My trade was a\nsaddler, and as my dealings were chiefly not by a shop or chance trade,\nbut among the merchants trading to the English colonies in America, so\nmy effects lay very much in the hands of such. I was a single man, it is\ntrue; but I had a family of servants, who[22] I kept at my business; had\na house, shop, and warehouses filled with goods; and in short to leave\nthem all as things in such a case must be left, that is to say, without\nany overseer or person fit to be trusted with them, had been to hazard\nthe loss, not only of my trade, but of my goods, and indeed of all I had\nin the world.\nI had an elder brother at the same time in London, and not many years\nbefore come over from Portugal; and, advising with him, his answer was\nin the three words, the same that was given in another case[23] quite\ndifferent, viz., \"Master, save thyself.\" In a word, he was for my\nretiring into the country, as he resolved to do himself, with his\nfamily; telling me, what he had, it seems, heard abroad, that the best\npreparation for the plague was to run away from it. As to my argument of\nlosing my trade, my goods, or debts, he quite confuted me: he told me\nthe same thing which I argued for my staying, viz., that I would trust\nGod with my safety and health was the strongest repulse[24] to my\npretensions of losing my trade and my goods. \"For,\" says he, \"is it not\nas reasonable that you should trust God with the chance or risk of\nlosing your trade, as that you should stay in so eminent a point of\ndanger, and trust him with your life?\"\nI could not argue that I was in any strait as to a place where to go,\nhaving several friends and relations in Northamptonshire, whence our\nfamily first came from; and particularly, I had an only sister in\nLincolnshire, very willing to receive and entertain me.\nMy brother, who had already sent his wife and two children into\nBedfordshire, and resolved to follow them, pressed my going very\nearnestly; and I had once resolved to comply with his desires, but at\nthat time could get no horse: for though it is true all the people did\nnot go out of the city of London, yet I may venture to say, that in a\nmanner all the horses did; for there was hardly a horse to be bought or\nhired in the whole city for some weeks. Once I resolved to travel on\nfoot with one servant, and, as many did, lie at no inn, but carry a\nsoldier's tent with us, and so lie in the fields, the weather being very\nwarm, and no danger from taking cold. I say, as many did, because\nseveral did so at last, especially those who had been in the armies, in\nthe war[25] which had not been many years past: and I must needs say,\nthat, speaking of second causes, had most of the people that traveled\ndone so, the plague had not been carried into so many country towns and\nhouses as it was, to the great damage, and indeed to the ruin, of\nabundance of people.\nBut then my servant who[26] I had intended to take down with me,\ndeceived me, and being frighted at the increase of the distemper, and\nnot knowing when I should go, he took other measures, and left me: so I\nwas put off for that time. And, one way or other, I always found that to\nappoint to go away was always crossed by some accident or other, so as\nto disappoint and put it off again. And this brings in a story which\notherwise might be thought a needless digression, viz., about these\ndisappointments being from Heaven.\nIt came very warmly into my mind one morning, as I was musing on this\nparticular thing, that as nothing attended us without the direction or\npermission of Divine Power, so these disappointments must have something\nin them extraordinary, and I ought to consider whether it did not\nevidently point out, or intimate to me, that it was the will of Heaven I\nshould not go. It immediately followed in my thoughts, that, if it\nreally was from God that I should stay, he was able effectually to\npreserve me in the midst of all the death and danger that would surround\nme; and that if I attempted to secure myself by fleeing from my\nhabitation, and acted contrary to these intimations, which I believed to\nbe divine, it was a kind of flying from God, and that he could cause his\njustice to overtake me when and where he thought fit.[27]\nThese thoughts quite turned my resolutions again; and when I came to\ndiscourse with my brother again, I told him that I inclined to stay and\ntake my lot in that station in which God had placed me; and that it\nseemed to be made more especially my duty, on the account of what I have\nsaid.\nMy brother, though a very religious man himself, laughed at all I had\nsuggested about its being an intimation from Heaven, and told me several\nstories of such foolhardy people, as he called them, as I was; that I\nought indeed to submit to it as a work of Heaven if I had been any way\ndisabled by distempers or diseases, and that then, not being able to go,\nI ought to acquiesce in the direction of Him, who, having been my Maker,\nhad an undisputed right of sovereignty in disposing of me; and that then\nthere had been no difficulty to determine which was the call of his\nprovidence, and which was not; but that I should take it as an\nintimation from Heaven that I should not go out of town, only because I\ncould not hire a horse to go, or my fellow was run away that was to\nattend me, was ridiculous, since at the same time I had my health and\nlimbs, and other servants, and might with ease travel a day or two on\nfoot, and, having a good certificate of being in perfect health, might\neither hire a horse, or take post on the road, as I thought fit.\nThen he proceeded to tell me of the mischievous consequences which\nattend the presumption of the Turks and Mohammedans in Asia, and in\nother places where he had been (for my brother, being a merchant, was a\nfew years before, as I have already observed, returned from abroad,\ncoming last from Lisbon); and how, presuming upon their professed\npredestinating[28] notions, and of every man's end being predetermined,\nand unalterably beforehand decreed, they would go unconcerned into\ninfected places, and converse with infected persons, by which means they\ndied at the rate of ten or fifteen thousand a week, whereas the\nEuropeans, or Christian merchants, who kept themselves retired and\nreserved, generally escaped the contagion.\nUpon these arguments my brother changed my resolutions again, and I\nbegan to resolve to go, and accordingly made all things ready; for, in\nshort, the infection increased round me, and the bills were risen to\nalmost seven hundred a week, and my brother told me he would venture to\nstay no longer. I desired him to let me consider of it but till the next\nday, and I would resolve; and as I had already prepared everything as\nwell as I could, as to my business and who[29] to intrust my affairs\nwith, I had little to do but to resolve.\nI went home that evening greatly oppressed in my mind, irresolute, and\nnot knowing what to do. I had set the evening wholly apart to consider\nseriously about it, and was all alone; for already people had, as it\nwere by a general consent, taken up the custom of not going out of doors\nafter sunset: the reasons I shall have occasion to say more of by and\nby.\nIn the retirement of this evening I endeavored to resolve first what was\nmy duty to do, and I stated the arguments with which my brother had\npressed me to go into the country, and I set against them the strong\nimpressions which I had on my mind for staying,--the visible call I\nseemed to have from the particular circumstance of my calling, and the\ncare due from me for the preservation of my effects, which were, as I\nmight say, my estate; also the intimations which I thought I had from\nHeaven, that to me signified a kind of direction to venture; and it\noccurred to me, that, if I had what I call a direction to stay, I ought\nto suppose it contained a promise of being preserved, if I obeyed.\nThis lay close to me;[30] and my mind seemed more and more encouraged to\nstay than ever, and supported with a secret satisfaction that I should\nbe kept.[31] Add to this, that turning over the Bible which lay before\nme, and while my thoughts were more than ordinary serious upon the\nquestion, I cried out, \"Well, I know not what to do, Lord direct me!\"\nand the like. And at that juncture I happened to stop turning over the\nbook at the Ninety-first Psalm, and, casting my eye on the second verse,\nI read to the seventh verse exclusive, and after that included the\ntenth, as follows: \"I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my\nfortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from\nthe snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover\nthee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth\nshall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the\nterror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the\npestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that\nwasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand\nat thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes\nshalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked. Because thou hast\nmade the Lord, which is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habitation;\nthere shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy\ndwelling,\" etc.\nI scarce need tell the reader that from that moment I resolved that I\nwould stay in the town, and, casting myself entirely upon the goodness\nand protection of the Almighty, would not seek any other shelter\nwhatever; and that as my times were in his hands,[32] he was as able to\nkeep me in a time of the infection as in a time of health; and if he did\nnot think fit to deliver me, still I was in his hands, and it was meet\nhe should do with me as should seem good to him.\nWith this resolution I went to bed; and I was further confirmed in it\nthe next day by the woman being taken ill with whom I had intended to\nintrust my house and all my affairs. But I had a further obligation laid\non me on the same side: for the next day I found myself very much out of\norder also; so that, if I would have gone away, I could not. And I\ncontinued ill three or four days, and this entirely determined my stay:\nso I took my leave of my brother, who went away to Dorking in\nSurrey,[33] and afterwards fetched around farther into Buckinghamshire\nor Bedfordshire, to a retreat he had found out there for his family.\nIt was a very ill time to be sick in; for if any one complained, it was\nimmediately said he had the plague; and though I had, indeed, no\nsymptoms of that distemper, yet, being very ill both in my head and in\nmy stomach, I was not without apprehension that I really was infected.\nBut in about three days I grew better. The third night I rested well,\nsweated a little, and was much refreshed. The apprehensions of its\nbeing the infection went also quite away with my illness, and I went\nabout my business as usual.\nThese things, however, put off all my thoughts of going into the\ncountry; and my brother also being gone, I had no more debate either\nwith him or with myself on that subject.\nIt was now mid-July; and the plague, which had chiefly raged at the\nother end of the town, and, as I said before, in the parishes of St.\nGiles's, St. Andrew's, Holborn, and towards Westminster, began now to\ncome eastward, towards the part where I lived. It was to be observed,\nindeed, that it did not come straight on towards us; for the city, that\nis to say within the walls, was indifferent healthy still. Nor was it\ngot then very much over the water into Southwark; for though there died\nthat week twelve hundred and sixty-eight of all distempers, whereof it\nmight be supposed above nine hundred died of the plague, yet there was\nbut twenty-eight in the whole city, within the walls, and but nineteen\nin Southwark, Lambeth Parish included; whereas in the parishes of St.\nGiles and St. Martin's-in-the-Fields alone, there died four hundred and\ntwenty-one.\nBut we perceived the infection kept chiefly in the outparishes, which\nbeing very populous and fuller also of poor, the distemper found more to\nprey upon than in the city, as I shall observe afterwards. We perceived,\nI say, the distemper to draw our way, viz., by the parishes of\nClerkenwell, Cripplegate, Shoreditch, and Bishopsgate; which last two\nparishes joining to Aldgate, Whitechapel, and Stepney, the infection\ncame at length to spread its utmost rage and violence in those parts,\neven when it abated at the western parishes where it began.\nIt was very strange to observe that in this particular week (from the\n4th to the 11th of July), when, as I have observed, there died near four\nhundred of the plague in the two parishes of St. Martin's and St.\nGiles-in-the-Fields[34] only, there died in the parish of Aldgate but\nfour, in the parish of Whitechapel three, in the parish of Stepney but\none.\nLikewise in the next week (from the 11th of July to the 18th), when the\nweek's bill was seventeen hundred and sixty-one, yet there died no more\nof the plague, on the whole Southwark side of the water, than sixteen.\nBut this face of things soon changed, and it began to thicken in\nCripplegate Parish especially, and in Clerkenwell; so that by the second\nweek in August, Cripplegate Parish alone buried eight hundred and\neighty-six, and Clerkenwell one hundred and fifty-five. Of the first,\neight hundred and fifty might well be reckoned to die of the plague; and\nof the last, the bill itself said one hundred and forty-five were of the\nplague.\nDuring the month of July, and while, as I have observed, our part of the\ntown seemed to be spared in comparison of the west part, I went\nordinarily about the streets as my business required, and particularly\nwent generally once in a day, or in two days, into the city, to my\nbrother's house, which he had given me charge of, and to see it was\nsafe; and having the key in my pocket, I used to go into the house, and\nover most of the rooms, to see that all was well. For though it be\nsomething wonderful to tell that any should have hearts so hardened, in\nthe midst of such a calamity, as to rob and steal, yet certain it is\nthat all sorts of villainies, and even levities and debaucheries, were\nthen practiced in the town as openly as ever: I will not say quite as\nfrequently, because the number of people were[35] many ways lessened.\nBut the city itself began now to be visited too, I mean within the\nwalls. But the number of people there were[35] indeed extremely lessened\nby so great a multitude having been gone into the country; and even all\nthis month of July they continued to flee, though not in such multitudes\nas formerly. In August, indeed, they fled in such a manner, that I began\nto think there would be really none but magistrates and servants left in\nthe city.\nAs they fled now out of the city, so I should observe that the\ncourt[36] removed early, viz., in the month of June, and went to\nOxford, where it pleased God to preserve them; and the distemper did\nnot, as I heard of, so much as touch them; for which I cannot say that I\never saw they showed any great token of thankfulness, and hardly\nanything of reformation, though they did not want being told that their\ncrying vices might, without breach of charity, be said to have gone far\nin bringing that terrible judgment upon the whole nation.\nThe face of London was now, indeed, strangely altered: I mean the whole\nmass of buildings, city, liberties, suburbs, Westminster, Southwark, and\naltogether; for as to the particular part called the city, or within the\nwalls, that was not yet much infected. But in the whole, the face of\nthings, I say, was much altered. Sorrow and sadness sat upon every face,\nand though some part were not yet overwhelmed, yet all looked deeply\nconcerned; and as we saw it apparently coming on, so every one looked on\nhimself and his family as in the utmost danger. Were it possible to\nrepresent those times exactly to those that did not see them, and give\nthe reader due ideas of the horror that everywhere presented itself, it\nmust make just impressions upon their minds, and fill them with\nsurprise. London might well be said to be all in tears. The mourners did\nnot go about the streets,[37] indeed; for nobody put on black, or made a\nformal dress of mourning for their nearest friends: but the voice of\nmourning was truly heard in the streets. The shrieks of women and\nchildren at the windows and doors of their houses, where their nearest\nrelations were perhaps dying, or just dead, were so frequent to be heard\nas we passed the streets, that it was enough to pierce the stoutest\nheart in the world to hear them. Tears and lamentations were seen almost\nin every house, especially in the first part of the visitation; for\ntowards the latter end, men's hearts were hardened, and death was so\nalways before their eyes that they did not so much concern themselves\nfor the loss of their friends, expecting that themselves should be\nsummoned the next hour.\nBusiness led me out sometimes to the other end of the town, even when\nthe sickness was chiefly there. And as the thing was new to me, as well\nas to everybody else, it was a most surprising thing to see those\nstreets, which were usually so thronged, now grown desolate, and so few\npeople to be seen in them, that if I had been a stranger, and at a loss\nfor my way, I might sometimes have gone the length of a whole street, I\nmean of the by-streets, and see[38] nobody to direct me, except watchmen\nset at the doors of such houses as were shut up; of which I shall speak\npresently.\nOne day, being at that part of the town on some special business,\ncuriosity led me to observe things more than usually; and indeed I\nwalked a great way where I had no business. I went up Holborn, and there\nthe street was full of people; but they walked in the middle of the\ngreat street, neither on one side or[39] other, because, as I suppose,\nthey would not mingle with anybody that came out of houses, or meet with\nsmells and scents from houses, that might be infected.\nThe inns of court were all shut up, nor were very many of the lawyers in\nthe Temple,[40] or Lincoln's Inn, or Gray's Inn, to be seen there.\nEverybody was at peace, there was no occasion for lawyers; besides, it\nbeing in the time of the vacation too, they were generally gone into the\ncountry. Whole rows of houses in some places were shut close up, the\ninhabitants all fled, and only a watchman or two left.\nWhen I speak of rows of houses being shut up, I do not mean shut up by\nthe magistrates, but that great numbers of persons followed the court,\nby the necessity of their employments, and other dependencies; and as\nothers retired, really frighted with the distemper, it was a mere\ndesolating of some of the streets. But the fright was not yet near so\ngreat in the city, abstractedly so called,[41] and particularly because,\nthough they were at first in a most inexpressible consternation, yet, as\nI have observed that the distemper intermitted often at first, so they\nwere, as it were, alarmed and unalarmed again, and this several times,\ntill it began to be familiar to them; and that even when it appeared\nviolent, yet seeing it did not presently spread into the city, or the\neast or south parts, the people began to take courage, and to be, as I\nmay say, a little hardened. It is true, a vast many people fled, as I\nhave observed; yet they were chiefly from the west end of the town, and\nfrom that we call the heart of the city, that is to say, among the\nwealthiest of the people, and such persons as were unincumbered with\ntrades and business. But of the rest, the generality staid, and seemed\nto abide the worst; so that in the place we call the liberties, and in\nthe suburbs, in Southwark, and in the east part, such as Wapping,\nRatcliff, Stepney, Rotherhithe, and the like, the people generally\nstaid, except here and there a few wealthy families, who, as above, did\nnot depend upon their business.\nIt must not be forgot here that the city and suburbs were prodigiously\nfull of people at the time of this visitation, I mean at the time that\nit began. For though I have lived to see a further increase, and mighty\nthrongs of people settling in London, more than ever; yet we had always\na notion that numbers of people which--the wars being over, the armies\ndisbanded, and the royal family and the monarchy being restored--had\nflocked to London to settle in business, or to depend upon and attend\nthe court for rewards of services, preferments, and the like, was[42]\nsuch that the town was computed to have in it above a hundred thousand\npeople more than ever it held before. Nay, some took upon them to say\nit had twice as many, because all the ruined families of the royal party\nflocked hither, all the soldiers set up trades here, and abundance of\nfamilies settled here. Again: the court brought with it a great flux of\npride and new fashions; all people were gay and luxurious, and the joy\nof the restoration had brought a vast many families to London.[43]\nBut I must go back again to the beginning of this surprising time. While\nthe fears of the people were young, they were increased strangely by\nseveral odd accidents, which put altogether, it was really a wonder the\nwhole body of the people did not rise as one man, and abandon their\ndwellings, leaving the place as a space of ground designed by Heaven for\nan Aceldama,[44] doomed to be destroyed from the face of the earth, and\nthat all that would be found in it would perish with it. I shall name\nbut a few of these things; but sure they were so many, and so many\nwizards and cunning people propagating them, that I have often wondered\nthere was any (women especially) left behind.\nIn the first place, a blazing star or comet appeared for several months\nbefore the plague, as there did, the year after, another a little before\nthe fire. The old women, and the phlegmatic hypochondriac[45] part of\nthe other sex (whom I could almost call old women too), remarked,\nespecially afterward, though not till both those judgments were over,\nthat those two comets passed directly over the city, and that so very\nnear the houses that it was plain they imported something peculiar to\nthe city alone; that the comet before the pestilence was of a faint,\ndull, languid color, and its motion very heavy, solemn, and slow, but\nthat the comet before the fire was bright and sparkling, or, as others\nsaid, flaming, and its motion swift and furious; and that, accordingly,\none foretold a heavy judgment, slow but severe, terrible, and\nfrightful, as was the plague, but the other foretold a stroke, sudden,\nswift, and fiery, as was the conflagration. Nay, so particular some\npeople were, that, as they looked upon that comet preceding the fire,\nthey fancied that they not only saw it pass swiftly and fiercely, and\ncould perceive the motion with their eye, but even they heard it; that\nit made a rushing, mighty noise, fierce and terrible, though at a\ndistance, and but just perceivable.\nI saw both these stars, and, I must confess, had had so much of the\ncommon notion of such things in my head, that I was apt to look upon\nthem as the forerunners and warnings of God's judgments, and, especially\nwhen the plague had followed the first, I yet saw another of the like\nkind, I could not but say, God had not yet sufficiently scourged the\ncity.\nThe apprehensions of the people were likewise strangely increased by the\nerror of the times, in which I think the people, from what principle I\ncannot imagine, were more addicted to prophecies, and astrological\nconjurations, dreams, and old wives' tales, than ever they were before\nor since.[46] Whether this unhappy temper was originally raised by the\nfollies of some people who got money by it, that is to say, by printing\npredictions and prognostications, I know not. But certain it is, books\nfrighted them terribly, such as \"Lilly's Almanack,\"[47] \"Gadbury's\nAstrological Predictions,\" \"Poor Robin's Almanack,\"[48] and the like;\nalso several pretended religious books,--one entitled \"Come out of Her,\nmy People, lest ye be Partaker of her Plagues;\"[49] another called \"Fair\nWarning;\" another, \"Britain's Remembrancer;\" and many such,--all, or\nmost part of which, foretold directly or covertly the ruin of the city.\nNay, some were so enthusiastically bold as to run about the streets with\ntheir oral predictions, pretending they were sent to preach to the city;\nand one in particular, who, like Jonah[50] to Nineveh, cried in the\nstreets, \"Yet forty days, and London shall be destroyed.\" I will not be\npositive whether he said \"yet forty days,\" or \"yet a few days.\" Another\nran about naked, except a pair of drawers about his waist, crying day\nand night, like a man that Josephus[51] mentions, who cried, \"Woe to\nJerusalem!\" a little before the destruction of that city: so this poor\nnaked creature cried, \"Oh, the great and the dreadful God!\" and said no\nmore, but repeated those words continually, with a voice and countenance\nfull of horror, a swift pace, and nobody could ever find him to stop, or\nrest, or take any sustenance, at least that ever I could hear of. I met\nthis poor creature several times in the streets, and would have spoke to\nhim, but he would not enter into speech with me, or any one else, but\nkept on his dismal cries continually.\nThese things terrified the people to the last degree, and especially\nwhen two or three times, as I have mentioned already, they found one or\ntwo in the bills dead of the plague at St. Giles's.\nNext to these public things were the dreams of old women; or, I should\nsay, the interpretation of old women upon other people's dreams; and\nthese put abundance of people even out of their wits. Some heard voices\nwarning them to be gone, for that there would be such a plague in London\nso that the living would not be able to bury the dead; others saw\napparitions in the air: and I must be allowed to say of both, I hope\nwithout breach of charity, that they heard voices that never spake, and\nsaw sights that never appeared. But the imagination of the people was\nreally turned wayward and possessed; and no wonder if they who were\nporing continually at the clouds saw shapes and figures,\nrepresentations and appearances, which had nothing in them but air and\nvapor. Here they told us they saw a flaming sword held in a hand, coming\nout of a cloud, with a point hanging directly over the city. There they\nsaw hearses and coffins in the air carrying to be buried. And there\nagain, heaps of dead bodies lying unburied and the like, just as the\nimagination of the poor terrified people furnished them with matter to\nwork upon.\n    So hypochondriac fancies represent\n    Ships, armies, battles in the firmament;\n    Till steady eyes the exhalations solve,\n    And all to its first matter, cloud, resolve.\nI could fill this account with the strange relations such people give\nevery day of what they have seen; and every one was so positive of their\nhaving seen what they pretended to see, that there was no contradicting\nthem, without breach of friendship, or being accounted rude and\nunmannerly on the one hand, and profane and impenetrable on the other.\nOne time before the plague was begun, otherwise than as I have said in\nSt. Giles's (I think it was in March), seeing a crowd of people in the\nstreet, I joined with them to satisfy my curiosity, and found them all\nstaring up into the air to see what a woman told them appeared plain to\nher, which was an angel clothed in white, with a fiery sword in his\nhand, waving it or brandishing it over his head. She described every\npart of the figure to the life, showed them the motion and the form, and\nthe poor people came into it so eagerly and with so much readiness.\n\"Yes, I see it all plainly,\" says one: \"there's the sword as plain as\ncan be.\" Another saw the angel; one saw his very face, and cried out\nwhat a glorious creature he was. One saw one thing, and one another. I\nlooked as earnestly as the rest, but perhaps not with so much\nwillingness to be imposed upon; and I said, indeed, that I could see\nnothing but a white cloud, bright on one side, by the shining of the sun\nupon the other part. The woman endeavored to show it me, but could not\nmake me confess that I saw it; which, indeed, if I had, I must have\nlied. But the woman, turning to me, looked me in the face, and fancied I\nlaughed, in which her imagination deceived her too, for I really did not\nlaugh, but was seriously reflecting how the poor people were terrified\nby the force of their own imagination. However, she turned to me, called\nme profane fellow and a scoffer, told me that it was a time of God's\nanger, and dreadful judgments were approaching, and that despisers such\nas I should wander and perish.\nThe people about her seemed disgusted as well as she, and I found there\nwas no persuading them that I did not laugh at them, and that I should\nbe rather mobbed by them than be able to undeceive them. So I left them,\nand this appearance passed for as real as the blazing star itself.\nAnother encounter I had in the open day also; and this was in going\nthrough a narrow passage from Petty France[52] into Bishopsgate\nchurchyard, by a row of almshouses. There are two churchyards to\nBishopsgate Church or Parish. One we go over to pass from the place\ncalled Petty France into Bishopsgate Street, coming out just by the\nchurch door; the other is on the side of the narrow passage where the\nalmshouses are on the left, and a dwarf wall with a palisade on it on\nthe right hand, and the city wall on the other side more to the right.\nIn this narrow passage stands a man looking through the palisades into\nthe burying place, and as many people as the narrowness of the place\nwould admit to stop without hindering the passage of others; and he was\ntalking mighty eagerly to them, and pointing, now to one place, then to\nanother, and affirming that he saw a ghost walking upon such a\ngravestone there. He described the shape, the posture, and the movement\nof it so exactly, that it was the greatest amazement to him in the world\nthat everybody did not see it as well as he. On a sudden he would cry,\n\"There it is! Now it comes this way!\" then, \"'Tis turned back!\" till at\nlength he persuaded the people into so firm a belief of it, that one\nfancied he saw it; and thus he came every day, making a strange hubbub,\nconsidering it was so narrow a passage, till Bishopsgate clock struck\neleven; and then the ghost would seem to start, and, as if he were\ncalled away, disappeared on a sudden.\nI looked earnestly every way, and at the very moment that this man\ndirected, but could not see the least appearance of anything. But so\npositive was this poor man that he gave them vapors[53] in abundance,\nand sent them away trembling and frightened, till at length few people\nthat knew of it cared to go through that passage, and hardly anybody by\nnight on any account whatever.\nThis ghost, as the poor man affirmed, made signs to the houses and to\nthe ground and to the people, plainly intimating (or else they so\nunderstanding it) that abundance of people should come to be buried in\nthat churchyard, as indeed happened. But then he saw such aspects I must\nacknowledge I never believed, nor could I see anything of it myself,\nthough I looked most earnestly to see it if possible.\nSome endeavors were used to suppress the printing of such books as\nterrified the people, and to frighten the dispersers of them, some of\nwhom were taken up, but nothing done in it, as I am informed; the\ngovernment being unwilling to exasperate the people, who were, as I may\nsay, all out of their wits already.\nNeither can I acquit those ministers that in their sermons rather sunk\nthan lifted up the hearts of their hearers. Many of them, I doubt not,\ndid it for the strengthening the resolution of the people, and\nespecially for quickening them to repentance; but it certainly answered\nnot their end, at least not in proportion to the injury it did another\nway.\nOne mischief always introduces another. These terrors and apprehensions\nof the people led them to a thousand weak, foolish, and wicked things,\nwhich they wanted not a sort of people really wicked to encourage them\nto; and this was running about to fortune tellers, cunning men,[54] and\nastrologers, to know their fortunes, or, as it is vulgarly expressed, to\nhave their fortunes told them, their nativities[55] calculated, and the\nlike. And this folly presently made the town swarm with a wicked\ngeneration of pretenders to magic, to the \"black art,\" as they called\nit, and I know not what, nay, to a thousand worse dealings with the\ndevil than they were really guilty of. And this trade grew so open and\nso generally practiced, that it became common to have signs and\ninscriptions set up at doors, \"Here lives a fortune teller,\" \"Here lives\nan astrologer,\" \"Here you may have your nativity calculated,\" and the\nlike; and Friar Bacon's brazen head,[56] which was the usual sign of\nthese people's dwellings, was to be seen almost in every street, or else\nthe sign of Mother Shipton,[57] or of Merlin's[58] head, and the like.\nWith what blind, absurd, and ridiculous stuff these oracles of the devil\npleased and satisfied the people, I really know not; but certain it is,\nthat innumerable attendants crowded about their doors every day: and if\nbut a grave fellow in a velvet jacket, a band,[59] and a black cloak,\nwhich was the habit those quack conjurers generally went in, was but\nseen in the streets, the people would follow them[60] in crowds, and ask\nthem[60] questions as they went along.\nThe case of poor servants was very dismal, as I shall have occasion to\nmention again by and by; for it was apparent a prodigious number of them\nwould be turned away. And it was so, and of them abundance perished,\nand particularly those whom these false prophets flattered with hopes\nthat they should be kept in their services, and carried with their\nmasters and mistresses into the country; and had not public charity\nprovided for these poor creatures, whose number was exceeding great (and\nin all cases of this nature must be so), they would have been in the\nworst condition of any people in the city.\nThese things agitated the minds of the common people for many months\nwhile the first apprehensions were upon them, and while the plague was\nnot, as I may say, yet broken out. But I must also not forget that the\nmore serious part of the inhabitants behaved after another manner. The\ngovernment encouraged their devotion, and appointed public prayers, and\ndays of fasting and humiliation, to make public confession of sin, and\nimplore the mercy of God to avert the dreadful judgment which hangs over\ntheir heads; and it is not to be expressed with what alacrity the people\nof all persuasions embraced the occasion, how they flocked to the\nchurches and meetings, and they were all so thronged that there was\noften no coming near, even to the very doors of the largest churches.\nAlso there were daily prayers appointed morning and evening at several\nchurches, and days of private praying at other places, at all which the\npeople attended, I say, with an uncommon devotion. Several private\nfamilies, also, as well of one opinion as another, kept family fasts, to\nwhich they admitted their near relations only; so that, in a word, those\npeople who were really serious and religious applied themselves in a\ntruly Christian manner to the proper work of repentance and humiliation,\nas a Christian people ought to do.\nAgain, the public showed that they would bear their share in these\nthings. The very court, which was then gay and luxurious, put on a face\nof just concern for the public danger. All the plays and interludes[61]\nwhich, after the manner of the French court,[62] had been set up and\nbegan to increase among us, were forbid to act;[63] the gaming tables,\npublic dancing rooms, and music houses, which multiplied and began to\ndebauch the manners of the people, were shut up and suppressed; and the\njack puddings,[64] merry-andrews,[64] puppet shows, ropedancers, and\nsuch like doings, which had bewitched the common people, shut their\nshops, finding indeed no trade, for the minds of the people were\nagitated with other things, and a kind of sadness and horror at these\nthings sat upon the countenances even of the common people. Death was\nbefore their eyes, and everybody began to think of their graves, not of\nmirth and diversions.\nBut even these wholesome reflections, which, rightly managed, would have\nmost happily led the people to fall upon their knees, make confession of\ntheir sins, and look up to their merciful Savior for pardon, imploring\nhis compassion on them in such a time of their distress, by which we\nmight have been as a second Nineveh, had a quite contrary extreme in the\ncommon people, who, ignorant and stupid in their reflections as they\nwere brutishly wicked and thoughtless before, were now led by their\nfright to extremes of folly, and, as I said before, that they ran to\nconjurers and witches and all sorts of deceivers, to know what should\nbecome of them, who fed their fears and kept them always alarmed and\nawake, on purpose to delude them and pick their pockets: so they were as\nmad upon their running after quacks and mountebanks, and every\npracticing old woman for medicines and remedies, storing themselves with\nsuch multitudes of pills, potions, and preservatives, as they were\ncalled, that they not only spent their money, but poisoned themselves\nbeforehand, for fear of the poison of the infection, and prepared their\nbodies for the plague, instead of preserving them against it. On the\nother hand, it was incredible, and scarce to be imagined, how the posts\nof houses and corners of streets were plastered over with doctors'\nbills, and papers of ignorant fellows quacking and tampering in physic,\nand inviting people to come to them for remedies, which was generally\nset off with such flourishes as these; viz., \"INFALLIBLE preventitive\npills against the plague;\" \"NEVER-FAILING preservatives against the\ninfection;\" \"SOVEREIGN cordials against the corruption of air;\" \"EXACT\nregulations for the conduct of the body in case of infection;\"\n\"Antipestilential pills;\" \"INCOMPARABLE drink against the plague, never\nfound out before;\" \"An UNIVERSAL remedy for the plague;\" \"The ONLY TRUE\nplague water;\" \"The ROYAL ANTIDOTE against all kinds of infection;\" and\nsuch a number more that I cannot reckon up, and, if I could, would fill\na book of themselves to set them down.\nOthers set up bills to summon people to their lodgings for direction and\nadvice in the case of infection. These had specious titles also, such as\nthese:--\n    An eminent High-Dutch physician, newly come over from Holland,\n      where he resided during all the time of the great plague,\n      last year, in Amsterdam, and cured multitudes of people that\n      actually had the plague upon them.\n    An Italian gentlewoman just arrived from Naples, having a\n      choice secret to prevent infection, which she found out by\n      her great experience, and did wonderful cures with it in the\n      late plague there, wherein there died 20,000 in one day.\n    An ancient gentlewoman having practiced with great success in\n      the late plague in this city, anno 1636, gives her advice\n      only to the female sex. To be spoken with, etc.\n    An experienced physician, who has long studied the doctrine of\n      antidotes against all sorts of poison and infection, has,\n      after forty years' practice, arrived at such skill as may,\n      with God's blessing, direct persons how to prevent being\n      touched by any contagious distemper whatsoever. He directs\n      the poor gratis.\nI take notice of these by way of specimen. I could give you two or three\ndozen of the like, and yet have abundance left behind. It is sufficient\nfrom these to apprise any one of the humor of those times, and how a set\nof thieves and pickpockets not only robbed and cheated the poor people\nof their money, but poisoned their bodies with odious and fatal\npreparations; some with mercury, and some with other things as bad,\nperfectly remote from the thing pretended to, and rather hurtful than\nserviceable to the body in case an infection followed.\nI cannot omit a subtlety of one of those quack operators with which he\ngulled the poor people to crowd about him, but did nothing for them\nwithout money. He had, it seems, added to his bills, which he gave out\nin the streets, this advertisement in capital letters; viz., \"He gives\nadvice to the poor for nothing.\"\nAbundance of people came to him accordingly, to whom he made a great\nmany fine speeches, examined them of the state of their health and of\nthe constitution of their bodies, and told them many good things to do,\nwhich were of no great moment. But the issue and conclusion of all was,\nthat he had a preparation which, if they took such a quantity of every\nmorning, he would pawn his life that they should never have the plague,\nno, though they lived in the house with people that were infected. This\nmade the people all resolve to have it, but then the price of that was\nso much (I think it was half a crown[65]). \"But, sir,\" says one poor\nwoman, \"I am a poor almswoman, and am kept by the parish; and your bills\nsay you give the poor your help for nothing.\"--\"Ay, good woman,\" says\nthe doctor, \"so I do, as I published there. I give my advice, but not my\nphysic!\"--\"Alas, sir,\" says she, \"that is a snare laid for the poor\nthen, for you give them your advice for nothing; that is to say, you\nadvise them gratis to buy your physic for their money: so does every\nshopkeeper with his wares.\" Here the woman began to give him ill words,\nand stood at his door all that day, telling her tale to all the people\nthat came, till the doctor, finding she turned away his customers, was\nobliged to call her upstairs again and give her his box of physic for\nnothing, which perhaps, too, was good for nothing when she had it.\nBut to return to the people, whose confusions fitted them to be imposed\nupon by all sorts of pretenders and by every mountebank. There is no\ndoubt but these quacking sort of fellows raised great gains out of the\nmiserable people; for we daily found the crowds that ran after them were\ninfinitely greater, and their doors were more thronged, than those of\nDr. Brooks, Dr. Upton, Dr. Hodges, Dr. Berwick, or any, though the most\nfamous men of the time; and I was told that some of them got five\npounds[66] a day by their physic.\nBut there was still another madness beyond all this, which may serve to\ngive an idea of the distracted humor of the poor people at that time,\nand this was their following a worse sort of deceivers than any of\nthese; for these petty thieves only deluded them to pick their pockets\nand get their money (in which their wickedness, whatever it was, lay\nchiefly on the side of the deceiver's deceiving, not upon the deceived);\nbut, in this part I am going to mention, it lay chiefly in the people\ndeceived, or equally in both. And this was in wearing charms,\nphilters,[67] exorcisms,[68] amulets,[69] and I know not what\npreparations to fortify the body against the plague, as if the plague\nwas not the hand of God, but a kind of a possession of an evil spirit,\nand it was to be kept off with crossings,[70] signs of the zodiac,[71]\npapers tied up with so many knots, and certain words or figures written\non them, as particularly the word \"Abracadabra,\"[72] formed in triangle\nor pyramid; thus,--\n    A B R A C A D A B R A\n     A B R A C A D A B R\nOthers had the Jesuits' mark in a cross:--\nOthers had nothing but this mark; thus,--\nI might spend a great deal of my time in exclamations against the\nfollies, and indeed the wickednesses of those things, in a time of such\ndanger, in a matter of such consequence as this of a national infection;\nbut my memorandums of these things relate rather to take notice of the\nfact, and mention only that it was so. How the poor people found the\ninsufficiency of those things, and how many of them were afterwards\ncarried away in the dead carts, and thrown into the common graves of\nevery parish with these hellish charms and trumpery hanging about their\nnecks, remains to be spoken of as we go along.\nAll this was the effect of the hurry the people were in, after the first\nnotion of the plague being at hand was among them, and which may be said\nto be from about Michaelmas,[74] 1664, but more particularly after the\ntwo men died in St. Giles's, in the beginning of December; and again\nafter another alarm in February, for when the plague evidently spread\nitself, they soon began to see the folly of trusting to these\nunperforming creatures who had gulled them of their money; and then\ntheir fears worked another way, namely, to amazement and stupidity, not\nknowing what course to take or what to do, either to help or to relieve\nthemselves; but they ran about from one neighbor's house to another, and\neven in the streets, from one door to another, with repeated cries of,\n\"Lord, have mercy upon us! What shall we do?\"\nI am supposing, now, the plague to have begun, as I have said, and that\nthe magistrates began to take the condition of the people into their\nserious consideration. What they did as to the regulation of the\ninhabitants, and of infected families, I shall speak to[75] by itself;\nbut as to the affair of health, it is proper to mention here my having\nseen the foolish humor of the people in running after quacks,\nmountebanks, wizards, and fortune tellers, which they did, as above,\neven to madness. The lord mayor, a very sober and religious gentleman,\nappointed physicians and surgeons for the relief of the poor, I mean the\ndiseased poor, and in particular ordered the College of Physicians[76]\nto publish directions for cheap remedies for the poor in all the\ncircumstances of the distemper. This, indeed, was one of the most\ncharitable and judicious things that could be done at that time; for\nthis drove the people from haunting the doors of every disperser of\nbills, and from taking down blindly and without consideration, poison\nfor physic, and death instead of life.\nThis direction of the physicians was done by a consultation of the whole\ncollege; and as it was particularly calculated for the use of the poor,\nand for cheap medicines, it was made public, so that everybody might see\nit, and copies were given gratis to all that desired it. But as it is\npublic and to be seen on all occasions, I need not give the reader of\nthis the trouble of it.\nIt remains to be mentioned now what public measures were taken by the\nmagistrates for the general safety and to prevent the spreading of the\ndistemper when it broke out. I shall have frequent occasion to speak of\nthe prudence of the magistrates, their charity, their vigilance for the\npoor and for preserving good order, furnishing provisions, and the like,\nwhen the plague was increased as it afterwards was. But I am now upon\nthe order and regulations which they published for the government of\ninfected families.\nI mentioned above shutting of houses up, and it is needful to say\nsomething particularly to that; for this part of the history of the\nplague is very melancholy. But the most grievous story must be told.\nAbout June, the lord mayor of London, and the court of aldermen, as I\nhave said, began more particularly to concern themselves for the\nregulation of the city.\nThe justices of the peace for Middlesex,[77] by direction of the\nsecretary of state, had begun to shut up houses in the parishes of St.\nGiles-in-the-Fields, St. Martin's, St. Clement's-Danes, etc., and it was\nwith good success; for in several streets where the plague broke out,\nupon strict guarding the houses that were infected, and taking care to\nbury those that died as soon as they were known to be dead, the plague\nceased in those streets. It was also observed that the plague decreased\nsooner in those parishes after they had been visited to the full than it\ndid in the parishes of Bishopsgate, Shoreditch, Aldgate, Whitechapel,\nStepney, and others; the early care taken in that manner being a great\nmeans to the putting a check to it.\nThis shutting up of the houses was a method first taken, as I\nunderstand, in the plague which happened in 1603, at the coming of King\nJames I. to the crown; and the power of shutting people up in their own\nhouses was granted by act of Parliament, entitled \"An Act for the\nCharitable Relief and Ordering of Persons Infected with Plague.\" On\nwhich act of Parliament the lord mayor and aldermen of the city of\nLondon founded the order they made at this time, and which took place\nthe 1st of July, 1665, when the numbers of infected within the city\nwere but few; the last bill for the ninety-two parishes being but four,\nand some houses having been shut up in the city, and some people being\nremoved to the pesthouse beyond Bunhill Fields, in the way to Islington.\nI say by these means, when there died near one thousand a week in the\nwhole, the number in the city was but twenty-eight; and the city was\npreserved more healthy, in proportion, than any other place all the time\nof the infection.\nThese orders of my lord mayor's were published, as I have said, the\nlatter end of June, and took place from the 1st of July, and were as\nfollow: viz.,--\n     ORDERS CONCEIVED AND PUBLISHED BY THE LORD MAYOR AND ALDERMEN OF\n     THE CITY OF LONDON, CONCERNING THE INFECTION OF THE PLAGUE; 1665.\n     Whereas in the reign of our late sovereign King James, of happy\n     memory, an act was made for the charitable relief and ordering of\n     persons infected with the plague; whereby authority was given to\n     justices of the peace, mayors, bailiffs, and other head officers,\n     to appoint within their several limits examiners, searchers,\n     watchmen, keepers, and buriers, for the persons and places\n     infected, and to minister unto them oaths for the performance of\n     their offices; and the same statute did also authorize the giving\n     of their directions as unto them for other present necessity should\n     seem good in their discretions: it is now, upon special\n     consideration, thought very expedient, for preventing and avoiding\n     of infection of sickness (if it shall please Almighty God), that\n     these officers following be appointed, and these orders hereafter\n     duly observed.\n     _Examiners to be appointed to every Parish._\n     First, it is thought requisite, and so ordered, that in every\n     parish there be one, two, or more persons of good sort and credit\n     chosen by the alderman, his deputy, and common council of every\n     ward, by the name of examiners, to continue in that office for the\n     space of two months at least: and if any fit person so appointed\n     shall refuse to undertake the same, the said parties so refusing to\n     be committed to prison until they shall conform themselves\n     accordingly.\n     _The Examiner's Office._\n     That these examiners be sworn by the aldermen to inquire and learn\n     from time to time what houses in every parish be visited, and what\n     persons be sick, and of what diseases, as near as they can inform\n     themselves, and, upon doubt in that case, to command restraint of\n     access until it appear what the disease shall prove; and if they\n     find any person sick of the infection, to give order to the\n     constable that the house be shut up; and, if the constable shall be\n     found remiss and negligent, to give notice thereof to the alderman\n     of the ward.\n     _Watchmen._\n     That to every infected house there be appointed two watchmen,--one\n     for every day, and the other for the night; and that these watchmen\n     have a special care that no person go in or out of such infected\n     houses whereof they have the charge, upon pain of severe\n     punishment. And the said watchmen to do such further offices as the\n     sick house shall need and require; and if the watchman be sent upon\n     any business, to lock up the house and take the key with him; and\n     the watchman by day to attend until ten o'clock at night, and the\n     watchman by night until six in the morning.\n     _Searchers._\n     That there be a special care to appoint women searchers in every\n     parish, such as are of honest reputation and of the best sort as\n     can be got in this kind; and these to be sworn to make due search\n     and true report, to the utmost of their knowledge, whether the\n     persons whose bodies they are appointed to search do die of the\n     infection, or of what other diseases, as near as they can. And that\n     the physicians who shall be appointed for the cure and prevention\n     of the infection do call before them the said searchers, who are or\n     shall be appointed for the several parishes under their respective\n     cares, to the end they may consider whether they be fitly qualified\n     for that employment, and charge them from time to time, as they\n     shall see cause, if they appear defective in their duties.\n     That no searcher during this time of visitation be permitted to use\n     any public work or employment, or keep a shop or stall, or be\n     employed as a laundress, or in any other common employment\n     whatsoever.\n     _Chirurgeons._[78]\n     For better assistance of the searchers, forasmuch as there has been\n     heretofore great abuse in misreporting the disease, to the further\n     spreading of the infection, it is therefore ordered that there be\n     chosen and appointed able and discreet chirurgeons besides those\n     that do already belong to the pesthouse, amongst whom the city and\n     liberties to be quartered as they lie most apt and convenient; and\n     every of these to have one quarter for his limit. And the said\n     chirurgeons in every of their limits to join with the searchers for\n     the view of the body, to the end there may be a true report made of\n     the disease.\n     And further: that the said chirurgeons shall visit and search such\n     like persons as shall either send for them, or be named and\n     directed unto them by the examiners of every parish, and inform\n     themselves of the disease of the said parties.\n     And forasmuch as the said chirurgeons are to be sequestered from\n     all other cures,[79] and kept only to this disease of the\n     infection, it is ordered that every of the said chirurgeons shall\n     have twelvepence a body searched by them, to be paid out of the\n     goods of the party searched, if he be able, or otherwise by the\n     parish.\n     _Nurse Keepers._\n     If any nurse keeper shall remove herself out of any infected house\n     before twenty-eight days after the decease of any person dying of\n     the infection, the house to which the said nurse keeper doth so\n     remove herself shall be shut up until the said twenty-eight days\n     shall be expired.\n     ORDERS CONCERNING INFECTED HOUSES, AND PERSONS SICK OF THE PLAGUE.\n     _Notice to be given of the Sickness._\n     The master of every house, as soon as any one in his house\n     complaineth either of botch, or purple, or swelling in any part of\n     his body, or falleth otherwise dangerously sick without apparent\n     cause of some other disease, shall give notice thereof to the\n     examiner of health, within two hours after the said sign shall\n     appear.\n     _Sequestration of the Sick._\n     As soon as any man shall be found by this examiner, chirurgeon, or\n     searcher, to be sick of the plague, he shall the same night be\n     sequestered in the same house; and in case he be so sequestered,\n     then, though he die not, the house wherein he sickened shall be\n     shut up for a month after the use of the due preservatives taken by\n     the rest.\n     _Airing the Stuff._\n     For sequestration of the goods and stuff of the infection, their\n     bedding and apparel, and hangings of chambers, must be well aired\n     with fire, and such perfumes as are requisite, within the infected\n     house, before they be taken again to use. This to be done by the\n     appointment of the examiner.\n     _Shutting up of the House._\n     If any person shall visit any man known to be infected of the\n     plague, or entereth willingly into any known infected house, being\n     not allowed, the house wherein he inhabiteth shall be shut up for\n     certain days by the examiner's direction.\n     _None to be removed out of Infected Houses, but, etc._\n     Item, That none be removed out of the house where he falleth sick\n     of the infection into any other house in the city (except it be to\n     the pesthouse or a tent, or unto some such house which the owner of\n     the said house holdeth in his own hands, and occupieth by his own\n     servants), and so as security be given to the said parish whither\n     such remove is made, that the attendance and charge about the said\n     visited persons shall be observed and charged in all the\n     particularities before expressed, without any cost of that parish\n     to which any such remove shall happen to be made, and this remove\n     to be done by night. And it shall be lawful to any person that hath\n     two houses to remove either his sound or his infected people to his\n     spare house at his choice, so as, if he send away first his sound,\n     he do not after send thither the sick; nor again unto the sick, the\n     sound; and that the same which he sendeth be for one week at the\n     least shut up, and secluded from company, for the fear of some\n     infection at first not appearing.\n     _Burial of the Dead._\n     That the burial of the dead by this visitation be at most\n     convenient hours, always before sunrising, or after sunsetting,\n     with the privity[80] of the churchwardens, or constable, and not\n     otherwise; and that no neighbors nor friends be suffered to\n     accompany the corpse to church, or to enter the house visited, upon\n     pain of having his house shut up, or be imprisoned.\n     And that no corpse dying of the infection shall be buried, or\n     remain in any church, in time of common prayer, sermon, or lecture.\n     And that no children be suffered, at time of burial of any corpse,\n     in any church, churchyard, or burying place, to come near the\n     corpse, coffin, or grave; and that all graves shall be at least six\n     feet deep.\n     And further, all public assemblies at other burials are to be\n     forborne during the continuance of this visitation.\n     _No Infected Stuff to be uttered._[81]\n     That no clothes, stuff, bedding, or garments, be suffered to be\n     carried or conveyed out of any infected houses, and that the criers\n     and carriers abroad of bedding or old apparel to be sold or pawned\n     be utterly prohibited and restrained, and no brokers of bedding or\n     old apparel be permitted to make any public show, or hang forth on\n     their stalls, shop boards, or windows towards any street, lane,\n     common way, or passage, any old bedding or apparel to be sold, upon\n     pain of imprisonment. And if any broker or other person shall buy\n     any bedding, apparel, or other stuff out of any infected house,\n     within two months after the infection hath been there, his house\n     shall be shut up as infected, and so shall continue shut up twenty\n     days at the least.\n     _No Person to be conveyed out of any Infected House._\n     If any person visited[82] do fortune,[83] by negligent looking\n     unto, or by any other means, to come or be conveyed from a place\n     infected to any other place, the parish from whence such party hath\n     come, or been conveyed, upon notice thereof given, shall, at their\n     charge, cause the said party so visited and escaped to be carried\n     and brought back again by night; and the parties in this case\n     offending to be punished at the direction of the alderman of the\n     ward, and the house of the receiver of such visited person to be\n     shut up for twenty days.\n     _Every Visited House to be marked._\n     That every house visited be marked with a red cross of a foot long,\n     in the middle of the door, evident to be seen, and with these usual\n     printed words, that is to say, \"Lord have mercy upon us,\" to be set\n     close over the same cross, there to continue until lawful opening\n     of the same house.\n     _Every Visited House to be watched._\n     That the constables see every house shut up, and to be attended\n     with watchmen, which may keep in, and minister necessaries to them\n     at their own charges, if they be able, or at the common charge if\n     they be unable. The shutting up to be for the space of four weeks\n     after all be whole.\n     That precise order be taken that the searchers, chirurgeons,\n     keepers, and buriers, are not to pass the streets without holding a\n     red rod or wand of three foot in length in their hands, open and\n     evident to be seen; and are not to go into any other house than\n     into their own, or into that whereunto they are directed or sent\n     for, but to forbear and abstain from company, especially when they\n     have been lately used[84] in any such business or attendance.\n     _Inmates._\n     That where several inmates are in one and the same house, and any\n     person in that house happens to be infected, no other person or\n     family of such house shall be suffered to remove him or themselves\n     without a certificate from the examiners of the health of that\n     parish; or, in default thereof, the house whither she or they\n     remove shall be shut up as is in case of visitation.\n     _Hackney Coaches._\n     That care be taken of hackney coachmen, that they may not, as some\n     of them have been observed to do after carrying of infected persons\n     to the pesthouse and other places, be admitted to common use till\n     their coaches be well aired, and have stood unemployed by the space\n     of five or six days after such service.\n     ORDERS FOR CLEANSING AND KEEPING OF THE STREETS SWEPT.\n     _The Streets to be kept Clean._\n     First, it is thought necessary, and so ordered, that every\n     householder do cause the street to be daily prepared before his\n     door, and so to keep it clean swept all the week long.\n     _That Rakers take it from out the Houses._\n     That the sweeping and filth of houses be daily carried away by the\n     rakers, and that the raker shall give notice of his coming by the\n     blowing of a horn, as hitherto hath been done.\n     _Laystalls_[85] _to be made far off from the City._\n     That the laystalls be removed as far as may be out of the city and\n     common passages, and that no nightman or other be suffered to empty\n     a vault into any vault or garden near about the city.\n     _Care to be had of Unwholesome Fish or Flesh, and of Musty Corn._\n     That special care be taken that no stinking fish, or unwholesome\n     flesh, or musty corn, or other corrupt fruits, of what sort soever,\n     be suffered to be sold about the city or any part of the same.\n     That the brewers and tippling-houses be looked unto for musty and\n     unwholesome casks.\n     That no hogs, dogs, or cats, or tame pigeons, or conies, be\n     suffered to be kept within any part of the city, or any swine to be\n     or stray in the streets or lanes, but that such swine be impounded\n     by the beadle[86] or any other officer, and the owner punished\n     according to the act of common council; and that the dogs be killed\n     by the dog killers appointed for that purpose.\n     ORDERS CONCERNING LOOSE PERSONS AND IDLE ASSEMBLIES.\n     _Beggars._\n     Forasmuch as nothing is more complained of than the multitude of\n     rogues and wandering beggars that swarm about in every place about\n     the city, being a great cause of the spreading of the infection,\n     and will not be avoided[87] notwithstanding any orders that have\n     been given to the contrary: it is therefore now ordered that such\n     constables, and others whom this matter may any way concern, take\n     special care that no wandering beggars be suffered in the streets\n     of this city, in any fashion or manner whatsoever, upon the penalty\n     provided by law to be duly and severely executed upon them.\n     That all plays, bear baitings,[88] games, singing of ballads,\n     buckler play,[89] or such like causes of assemblies of people, be\n     utterly prohibited, and the parties offending severely punished by\n     every alderman in his ward.\n     _Feasting prohibited._\n     That all public feasting, and particularly by the companies[90] of\n     this city, and dinners in taverns, alehouses, and other places of\n     public entertainment, be forborne till further order and allowance,\n     and that the money thereby spared be preserved, and employed for\n     the benefit and relief of the poor visited with the infection.\n     _Tippling-Houses._\n     That disorderly tippling in taverns, alehouses, coffeehouses, and\n     cellars, be severely looked unto as the common sin of the time, and\n     greatest occasion of dispersing the plague. And that no company or\n     person be suffered to remain or come into any tavern, alehouse, or\n     coffeehouse, to drink, after nine of the clock in the evening,\n     according to the ancient law and custom of this city, upon the\n     penalties ordained by law.\n     And for the better execution of these orders, and such other rules\n     and directions as upon further consideration shall be found\n     needful, it is ordered and enjoined that the aldermen, deputies,\n     and common councilmen shall meet together weekly, once, twice,\n     thrice, or oftener, as cause shall require, at some one general\n     place accustomed in their respective wards, being clear from\n     infection of the plague, to consult how the said orders may be put\n     in execution, not intending that any dwelling in or near places\n     infected shall come to the said meeting while their coming may be\n     doubtful. And the said aldermen, deputies, and common councilmen,\n     in their several wards, may put in execution any other orders that\n     by them, at their said meetings, shall be conceived and devised for\n     the preservation of his Majesty's subjects from the infection.\nI need not say that these orders extended only to such places as were\nwithin the lord mayor's jurisdiction: so it is requisite to observe that\nthe justices of peace within those parishes and places as were called\nthe \"hamlets\" and \"outparts\" took the same method. As I remember, the\norders for shutting up of houses did not take place so soon on our side,\nbecause, as I said before, the plague did not reach to this eastern part\nof the town at least, nor begin to be violent till the beginning of\nAugust. For example, the whole bill from the 11th to the 18th of July\nwas 1,761, yet there died but 71 of the plague in all those parishes we\ncall the Tower Hamlets; and they were as follows:--\nIt was indeed coming on amain, for the burials that same week were, in\nthe next adjoining parishes, thus:--\n    St. Bot.[94] Bishopsg.   65   prodigiously  { 105   Aug. 1 { 116\n    St. Giles's Crippl.[95] 213   increased, as { 431   thus:  { 554\nThis shutting up of houses was at first counted a very cruel and\nunchristian method, and the poor people so confined made bitter\nlamentations. Complaints of the severity of it were also daily brought\nto my lord mayor, of houses causelessly, and some maliciously, shut up.\nI cannot say but upon inquiry many that complained so loudly were found\nin a condition to be continued; and others again, inspection being made\nupon the sick person, and the sickness not appearing infectious, or, if\nuncertain, yet, on his being content to be carried to the pesthouse,\nwas[96] released.\nAs I went along Houndsditch one morning, about eight o'clock, there was\na great noise. It is true, indeed, there was not much crowd, because the\npeople were not very free to gather together, or to stay long together\nwhen they were there, nor did I stay long there; but the outcry was loud\nenough to prompt my curiosity, and I called to one, who looked out of a\nwindow, and asked what was the matter.\nA watchman, it seems, had been employed to keep his post at the door of\na house which was infected, or said to be infected, and was shut up. He\nhad been there all night, for two nights together, as he told his story,\nand the day watchman had been there one day, and was now come to relieve\nhim. All this while no noise had been heard in the house, no light had\nbeen seen, they called for nothing, sent him of no errands (which used\nto be the chief business of the watchmen), neither had they given him\nany disturbance, as he said, from Monday afternoon, when he heard a\ngreat crying and screaming in the house, which, as he supposed, was\noccasioned by some of the family dying just at that time. It seems the\nnight before, the \"dead cart,\" as it was called, had been stopped there,\nand a servant maid had been brought down to the door dead; and the\n\"buriers\" or \"bearers,\" as they were called, put her into the cart,\nwrapped only in a green rug, and carried her away.\nThe watchman had knocked at the door, it seems, when he heard that noise\nand crying, as above, and nobody answered a great while; but at last one\nlooked out and said with an angry, quick tone, and yet a kind of crying\nvoice, or a voice of one that was crying, \"What d'ye want, that you make\nsuch a knocking?\" He answered, \"I am the watchman. How do you do? What\nis the matter?\" The person answered, \"What is that to you? Stop the dead\ncart.\" This, it seems, was about one o'clock. Soon after, as the fellow\nsaid, he stopped the dead cart, and then knocked again, but nobody\nanswered; he continued knocking, and the bellman called out several\ntimes, \"Bring out your dead;\" but nobody answered, till the man that\ndrove the cart, being called to other houses, would stay no longer, and\ndrove away.\nThe watchman knew not what to make of all this, so he let them alone\ntill the morning man, or \"day watchman,\" as they called him, came to\nrelieve him. Giving him an account of the particulars, they knocked at\nthe door a great while, but nobody answered; and they observed that the\nwindow or casement at which the person looked out who had answered\nbefore, continued open, being up two pair of stairs.\nUpon this, the two men, to satisfy their curiosity, got a long ladder,\nand one of them went up to the window and looked into the room, where he\nsaw a woman lying dead upon the floor, in a dismal manner, having no\nclothes on her but her shift.[97] But though he called aloud, and,\nputting in his long staff, knocked hard on the floor, yet nobody stirred\nor answered, neither could he hear any noise in the house.\nHe came down again upon this, and acquainted his fellow, who went up\nalso; and finding it just so, they resolved to acquaint either the lord\nmayor or some other magistrate of it, but did not offer to go in at the\nwindow. The magistrate, it seems, upon the information of the two men,\nordered the house to be broke open, a constable and other persons being\nappointed to be present, that nothing might be plundered; and\naccordingly it was so done, when nobody was found in the house but that\nyoung woman, who having been infected, and past recovery, the rest had\nleft her to die by herself, and every one gone, having found some way to\ndelude the watchman, and to get open the door, or get out at some back\ndoor, or over the tops of the houses, so that he knew nothing of it. And\nas to those cries and shrieks which he heard, it was supposed they were\nthe passionate cries of the family at this bitter parting, which, to be\nsure, it was to them all, this being the sister to the mistress of the\nfamily; the man of the house, his wife, several children and servants,\nbeing all gone and fled: whether sick or sound, that I could never\nlearn, nor, indeed, did I make much inquiry after it.\nAt another house, as I was informed, in the street next within Aldgate,\na whole family was shut up and locked in because the maidservant was\ntaken sick. The master of the house had complained by his friends to the\nnext alderman, and to the lord mayor, and had consented to have the maid\ncarried to the pesthouse, but was refused: so the door was marked with a\nred cross, a padlock on the outside, as above, and a watchman set to\nkeep the door, according to public order.\nAfter the master of the house found there was no remedy, but that he,\nhis wife, and his children, were locked up with this poor distempered\nservant, he called to the watchman, and told him he must go then and\nfetch a nurse for them to attend this poor girl, for that it would be\ncertain death to them all to oblige them to nurse her, and told him\nplainly that if he would not do this the maid would perish either[98] of\nthe distemper, or be starved for want of food, for he was resolved none\nof his family should go near her; and she lay in the garret, four story\nhigh, where she could not cry out or call to anybody for help.\nThe watchman consented to that, and went and fetched a nurse as he was\nappointed, and brought her to them the same evening. During this\ninterval, the master of the house took his opportunity to break a large\nhole through his shop into a bulk or stall, where formerly a cobbler had\nsat before or under his shop window; but the tenant, as may be supposed,\nat such a dismal time as that, was dead or removed, and so he had the\nkey in his own keeping. Having[99] made his way into this stall, which\nhe could not have done if the man had been at the door, the noise he was\nobliged to make being such as would have alarmed the watchman,--I say,\nhaving made his way into this stall, he sat still till the watchman\nreturned with the nurse, and all the next day also; but the night\nfollowing, having contrived to send the watchman of another trifling\nerrand (which, as I take it, was to an apothecary's for a plaster for\nthe maid, which he was to stay for the making up, or some other such\nerrand that might secure his staying some time), in that time he\nconveyed himself and all his family out of the house, and left the nurse\nand the watchman to bury the poor wench, that is, throw her into the\ncart, and take care of the house.\nNot far from the same place they blowed up a watchman with gunpowder,\nand burned the poor fellow dreadfully; and while he made hideous cries,\nand nobody would venture to come near to help him, the whole family that\nwere able to stir got out at the windows (one story high), two that were\nleft sick calling out for help. Care was taken to give them nurses to\nlook after them; but the persons fled were never found till, after the\nplague was abated, they returned. But as nothing could be proved, so\nnothing could be done to them.\nIn other cases, some had gardens and walls, or pales,[100] between them\nand their neighbors, or yards and backhouses; and these, by friendship\nand entreaties, would get leave to get over those walls or pales, and\nso go out at their neighbors' doors, or, by giving money to their\nservants, get them to let them through in the night. So that, in short,\nthe shutting up of houses was in no wise to be depended upon; neither\ndid it answer the end at all, serving more to make the people desperate,\nand drive them to such extremities as that they would break out at all\nadventures.\nAnd that which was still worse, those that did thus break out spread the\ninfection farther, by their wandering about with the distemper upon them\nin their desperate circumstances, than they would otherwise have done;\nfor whoever considers all the particulars in such cases must\nacknowledge, and cannot doubt, but the severity of those confinements\nmade many people desperate, and made them run out of their houses at all\nhazards, and with the plague visibly upon them, not knowing either\nwhither to go, or what to do, or indeed what they did. And many that did\nso were driven to dreadful exigencies and extremities, and perished in\nthe streets or fields for mere want, or dropped down by[101] the raging\nviolence of the fever upon them. Others wandered into the country, and\nwent forward any way, as their desperation guided them, not knowing\nwhither they went or would go, till, faint and tired, and not getting\nany relief, the houses and villages on the road refusing to admit them\nto lodge, whether infected or no, they have perished by the roadside, or\ngotten into barns, and died there, none daring to come to them or\nrelieve them, though perhaps not infected, for nobody would believe\nthem.\nOn the other hand, when the plague at first seized a family, that is to\nsay, when any one body of the family had gone out, and unwarily or\notherwise catched[102] the distemper and brought it home, it was\ncertainly known by the family before it was known to the officers, who,\nas you will see by the order, were appointed to examine into the\ncircumstances of all sick persons, when they heard of their being sick.\nIn this interval, between their being taken sick and the examiners\ncoming, the master of the house had leisure and liberty to remove\nhimself, or all his family, if he knew whither to go; and many did so.\nBut the great disaster was, that many did thus after they were really\ninfected themselves, and so carried the disease into the houses of those\nwho were so hospitable as to receive them; which, it must be confessed,\nwas very cruel and ungrateful.\nI am speaking now of people made desperate by the apprehensions of their\nbeing shut up, and their breaking out by stratagem or force, either\nbefore or after they were shut up, whose misery was not lessened when\nthey were out, but sadly increased. On the other hand, many who thus got\naway had retreats to go to, and other houses, where they locked\nthemselves up, and kept hid till the plague was over; and many families,\nforeseeing the approach of the distemper, laid up stores of provisions\nsufficient for their whole families, and shut themselves up, and that so\nentirely, that they were neither seen or heard of till the infection was\nquite ceased, and then came abroad sound and well. I might recollect\nseveral such as these, and give you the particulars of their management;\nfor doubtless it was the most effectual secure step that could be taken\nfor such whose circumstances would not admit them to remove, or who had\nnot retreats abroad proper for the case; for, in being thus shut up,\nthey were as if they had been a hundred miles off. Nor do I remember\nthat any one of those families miscarried.[103] Among these, several\nDutch merchants were particularly remarkable, who kept their houses like\nlittle garrisons besieged, suffering none to go in or out, or come near\nthem; particularly one in a court in Throckmorton Street, whose house\nlooked into Drapers' Garden.\nBut I come back to the case of families infected, and shut up by the\nmagistrates. The misery of those families is not to be expressed; and it\nwas generally in such houses that we heard the most dismal shrieks and\noutcries of the poor people, terrified, and even frightened to death,\nby the sight of the condition of their dearest relations, and by the\nterror of being imprisoned as they were.\nI remember, and while I am writing this story I think I hear the very\nsound of it: a certain lady had an only daughter, a young maiden about\nnineteen years old, and who was possessed of a very considerable\nfortune. They were only lodgers in the house where they were. The young\nwoman, her mother, and the maid had been abroad on some occasion, I do\nnot remember what, for the house was not shut up; but about two hours\nafter they came home, the young lady complained she was not well; in a\nquarter of an hour more she vomited, and had a violent pain in her head.\n\"Pray God,\" says her mother, in a terrible fright, \"my child has not the\ndistemper!\" The pain in her head increasing, her mother ordered the bed\nto be warmed, and resolved to put her to bed, and prepared to give her\nthings to sweat, which was the ordinary remedy to be taken when the\nfirst apprehensions of the distemper began.\nWhile the bed was airing, the mother undressed the young woman, and just\nas she was laid down in the bed, she, looking upon her body with a\ncandle, immediately discovered the fatal tokens on the inside of her\nthighs. Her mother, not being able to contain herself, threw down her\ncandle, and screeched out in such a frightful manner, that it was enough\nto place horror upon the stoutest heart in the world. Nor was it one\nscream, or one cry, but, the fright having seized her spirits, she\nfainted first, then recovered, then ran all over the house (up the\nstairs and down the stairs) like one distracted, and indeed really was\ndistracted, and continued screeching and crying out for several hours,\nvoid of all sense, or at least government of her senses, and, as I was\ntold, never came thoroughly to herself again. As to the young maiden,\nshe was a dead corpse from that moment: for the gangrene, which\noccasions the spots, had spread over her whole body, and she died in\nless than two hours. But still the mother continued crying out, not\nknowing anything more of her child, several hours after she was dead.\nIt is so long ago that I am not certain, but I think the mother never\nrecovered, but died in two or three weeks after.\nI have by me a story of two brothers and their kinsman, who, being\nsingle men, but that had staid[104] in the city too long to get away,\nand, indeed, not knowing where to go to have any retreat, nor having\nwherewith to travel far, took a course for their own preservation,\nwhich, though in itself at first desperate, yet was so natural that it\nmay be wondered that no more did so at that time. They were but of mean\ncondition, and yet not so very poor as that they could not furnish\nthemselves with some little conveniences, such as might serve to keep\nlife and soul together; and finding the distemper increasing in a\nterrible manner, they resolved to shift as well as they could, and to be\ngone.\nOne of them had been a soldier in the late wars,[105] and before that in\nthe Low Countries;[106] and having been bred to no particular employment\nbut his arms, and besides, being wounded, and not able to work very\nhard, had for some time been employed at a baker's of sea biscuit, in\nWapping.\nThe brother of this man was a seaman too, but somehow or other had been\nhurt of[107] one leg, that he could not go to sea, but had worked for\nhis living at a sailmaker's in Wapping or thereabouts, and, being a good\nhusband,[108] had laid up some money, and was the richest of the three.\nThe third man was a joiner or carpenter by trade, a handy fellow, and he\nhad no wealth but his box or basket of tools, with the help of which he\ncould at any time get his living (such a time as this excepted) wherever\nhe went; and he lived near Shadwell.\nThey all lived in Stepney Parish, which, as I have said, being the last\nthat was infected, or at least violently, they staid there till they\nevidently saw the plague was abating at the west part of the town, and\ncoming towards the east, where they lived.\nThe story of those three men, if the reader will be content to have me\ngive it in their own persons, without taking upon me to either vouch the\nparticulars or answer for any mistakes, I shall give as distinctly as I\ncan, believing the history will be a very good pattern for any poor man\nto follow in case the like public desolation should happen here. And if\nthere may be no such occasion, (which God of his infinite mercy grant\nus!) still the story may have its uses so many ways as that it will, I\nhope, never be said that the relating has been unprofitable.\nI say all this previous to the history, having yet, for the present,\nmuch more to say before I quit my own part.\nI went all the first part of the time freely about the streets, though\nnot so freely as to run myself into apparent danger, except when they\ndug the great pit in the churchyard of our parish of Aldgate. A terrible\npit it was, and I could not resist my curiosity to go and see it. As\nnear as I may judge, it was about forty feet in length, and about\nfifteen or sixteen feet broad, and at the time I first looked at it\nabout nine feet deep. But it was said they dug it near twenty feet deep\nafterwards, in one part of it, till they could go no deeper for the\nwater; for they had, it seems, dug several large pits before this; for,\nthough the plague was long a-coming[109] to our parish, yet, when it did\ncome, there was no parish in or about London where it raged with such\nviolence as in the two parishes of Aldgate and Whitechapel.\nI say they had dug several pits in another ground when the distemper\nbegan to spread in our parish, and especially when the dead carts began\nto go about, which was not in our parish till the beginning of August.\nInto these pits they had put perhaps fifty or sixty bodies each; then\nthey made larger holes, wherein they buried all that the cart brought in\na week, which, by the middle to the end of August, came to from two\nhundred to four hundred a week. And they could not well dig them larger,\nbecause of the order of the magistrates, confining them to leave no\nbodies within six feet of the surface; and the water coming on at about\nseventeen or eighteen feet, they could not well, I say, put more in one\npit. But now, at the beginning of September, the plague raging in a\ndreadful manner, and the number of burials in our parish increasing to\nmore than was[110] ever buried in any parish about London of no larger\nextent, they ordered this dreadful gulf to be dug, for such it was\nrather than a pit.\nThey had supposed this pit would have supplied them for a month or more\nwhen they dug it; and some blamed the churchwardens for suffering such a\nfrightful thing, telling them they were making preparations to bury the\nwhole parish, and the like. But time made it appear, the churchwardens\nknew the condition of the parish better than they did: for, the pit\nbeing finished the 4th of September, I think they began to bury in it\nthe 6th, and by the 20th, which was just two weeks, they had thrown into\nit eleven hundred and fourteen bodies, when they were obliged to fill it\nup, the bodies being then come to lie within six feet of the surface. I\ndoubt not but there may be some ancient persons alive in the parish who\ncan justify the fact of this, and are able to show even in what place of\nthe churchyard the pit lay, better than I can: the mark of it also was\nmany years to be seen in the churchyard on the surface, lying in length,\nparallel with the passage which goes by the west wall of the churchyard\nout of Houndsditch, and turns east again into Whitechapel, coming out\nnear the Three Nuns Inn.\nIt was about the 10th of September that my curiosity led, or rather\ndrove, me to go and see this pit again, when there had been near four\nhundred people buried in it. And I was not content to see it in the\ndaytime, as I had done before,--for then there would have been nothing\nto have been seen but the loose earth, for all the bodies that were\nthrown in were immediately covered with earth by those they called the\n\"buriers,\" which at other times were called \"bearers,\"--but I resolved\nto go in the night, and see some of them thrown in.\nThere was a strict order to prevent people coming to those pits, and\nthat was only to prevent infection. But after some time that order was\nmore necessary; for people that were infected and near their end, and\ndelirious also, would run to those pits wrapped in blankets, or rugs,\nand throw themselves in, and, as they said, \"bury themselves.\" I cannot\nsay that the officers suffered any willingly to lie there; but I have\nheard that in a great pit in Finsbury, in the parish of Cripplegate (it\nlying open then to the fields, for it was not then walled about), many\ncame and threw themselves in, and expired there, before they threw any\nearth upon them; and that when they came to bury others, and found them\nthere, they were quite dead, though not cold.\nThis may serve a little to describe the dreadful condition of that day,\nthough it is impossible to say anything that is able to give a true idea\nof it to those who did not see it, other than this: that it was indeed\nvery, very, very dreadful, and such as no tongue can express.\nI got admittance into the churchyard by being acquainted with the sexton\nwho attended, who, though he did not refuse me at all, yet earnestly\npersuaded me not to go, telling me very seriously (for he was a good,\nreligious, and sensible man) that it was indeed their business and duty\nto venture, and to run all hazards, and that in it they might hope to be\npreserved; but that I had no apparent call to it but my own curiosity,\nwhich, he said, he believed I would not pretend was sufficient to\njustify my running that hazard. I told him I had been pressed in my mind\nto go, and that perhaps it might be an instructing sight that might not\nbe without its uses. \"Nay,\" says the good man, \"if you will venture upon\nthat score, 'name of God,[111] go in; for, depend upon it, it will be a\nsermon to you, it may be, the best that ever you heard in your life. It\nis a speaking sight,\" says he, \"and has a voice with it, and a loud\none, to call us all to repentance;\" and with that he opened the door,\nand said, \"Go, if you will.\"\nHis discourse had shocked my resolution a little, and I stood wavering\nfor a good while; but just at that interval I saw two links[112] come\nover from the end of the Minories, and heard the bellman, and then\nappeared a \"dead cart,\" as they called it, coming over the streets: so I\ncould no longer resist my desire of seeing it, and went in. There was\nnobody, as I could perceive at first, in the churchyard, or going into\nit, but the buriers, and the fellow that drove the cart, or rather led\nthe horse and cart; but when they came up to the pit, they saw a man go\nto and again,[113] muffled up in a brown cloak, and making motions with\nhis hands, under his cloak, as if he was[114] in great agony. And the\nburiers immediately gathered about him, supposing he was one of those\npoor delirious or desperate creatures that used to pretend, as I have\nsaid, to bury themselves. He said nothing as he walked about, but two or\nthree times groaned very deeply and loud, and sighed as[115] he would\nbreak his heart.\nWhen the buriers came up to him, they soon found he was neither a person\ninfected and desperate, as I have observed above, or a person\ndistempered in mind, but one oppressed with a dreadful weight of grief\nindeed, having his wife and several of his children all in the cart that\nwas just come in with him; and he followed in an agony and excess of\nsorrow. He mourned heartily, as it was easy to see, but with a kind of\nmasculine grief, that could not give itself vent by tears, and, calmly\ndesiring the buriers to let him alone, said he would only see the bodies\nthrown in, and go away. So they left importuning him; but no sooner was\nthe cart turned round, and the bodies shot into the pit\npromiscuously,--which was a surprise to him, for he at least expected\nthey would have been decently laid in, though, indeed, he was afterwards\nconvinced that was impracticable,--I say, no sooner did he see the\nsight, but he cried out aloud, unable to contain himself. I could not\nhear what he said, but he went backward two or three steps, and fell\ndown in a swoon. The buriers ran to him and took him up, and in a little\nwhile he came to himself, and they led him away to the Pye[116] Tavern,\nover against the end of Houndsditch, where, it seems, the man was known,\nand where they took care of him. He looked into the pit again as he went\naway; but the buriers had covered the bodies so immediately with\nthrowing in earth, that, though there was light enough (for there were\nlanterns,[117] and candles in them, placed all night round the sides of\nthe pit upon the heaps of earth, seven or eight, or perhaps more), yet\nnothing could be seen.\nThis was a mournful scene indeed, and affected me almost as much as the\nrest. But the other was awful, and full of terror: the cart had in it\nsixteen or seventeen bodies; some were wrapped up in linen sheets, some\nin rugs, some little other than naked, or so loose that what covering\nthey had fell from them in the shooting out of the cart, and they fell\nquite naked among the rest; but the matter was not much to them, or the\nindecency much to any one else, seeing they were all dead, and were to\nbe huddled together into the common grave of mankind, as we may call it;\nfor here was no difference made, but poor and rich went together. There\nwas no other way of burials, neither was it possible there should,[118]\nfor coffins were not to be had for the prodigious numbers that fell in\nsuch a calamity as this.\nIt was reported, by way of scandal upon the buriers, that if any corpse\nwas delivered to them decently wound up, as we called it then, in a\nwinding sheet tied over the head and feet (which some did, and which was\ngenerally of good linen),--I say, it was reported that the buriers were\nso wicked as to strip them in the cart, and carry them quite naked to\nthe ground; but as I cannot credit anything so vile among Christians,\nand at a time so filled with terrors as that was, I can only relate it,\nand leave it undetermined.\nInnumerable stories also went about of the cruel behavior and practice\nof nurses who attended the sick, and of their hastening on the fate of\nthose they attended in their sickness. But I shall say more of this in\nits place.\nI was indeed shocked with this sight, it almost overwhelmed me; and I\nwent away with my heart most afflicted, and full of afflicting thoughts\nsuch as I cannot describe. Just at my going out of the church, and\nturning up the street towards my own house, I saw another cart, with\nlinks, and a bellman going before, coming out of Harrow Alley, in the\nButcher Row, on the other side of the way; and being, as I perceived,\nvery full of dead bodies, it went directly over the street, also,\ntowards the church. I stood a while, but I had no stomach[119] to go\nback again to see the same dismal scene over again: so I went directly\nhome, where I could not but consider with thankfulness the risk I had\nrun, believing I had gotten no injury, as indeed I had not.\nHere the poor unhappy gentleman's grief came into my head again, and\nindeed I could not but shed tears in the reflection upon it, perhaps\nmore than he did himself; but his case lay so heavy upon my mind, that I\ncould not prevail with myself but that I must go out again into the\nstreet, and go to the Pye Tavern, resolving to inquire what became of\nhim.\nIt was by this time one o'clock in the morning, and yet the poor\ngentleman was there. The truth was, the people of the house, knowing\nhim, had entertained him, and kept him there all the night,\nnotwithstanding the danger of being infected by him, though it appeared\nthe man was perfectly sound himself.\nIt is with regret that I take notice of this tavern. The people were\ncivil, mannerly, and an obliging sort of folks enough, and had till this\ntime kept their house open, and their trade going on, though not so very\npublicly as formerly. But there was a dreadful set of fellows that used\ntheir house, and who, in the middle of all this horror, met there every\nnight, behaving with all the reveling and roaring extravagances as is\nusual for such people to do at other times, and indeed to such an\noffensive degree that the very master and mistress of the house grew\nfirst ashamed, and then terrified, at them.\nThey sat generally in a room next the street; and as they always kept\nlate hours, so when the dead cart came across the street end to go into\nHoundsditch, which was in view of the tavern windows, they would\nfrequently open the windows as soon as they heard the bell, and look out\nat them; and as they might often hear sad lamentations of people in the\nstreets, or at their windows, as the carts went along, they would make\ntheir impudent mocks and jeers at them, especially if they heard the\npoor people call upon God to have mercy upon them, as many would do at\nthose times, in their ordinary passing along the streets.\nThese gentlemen, being something disturbed with the clutter of bringing\nthe poor gentleman into the house, as above, were first angry and very\nhigh with the master of the house for suffering such a fellow, as they\ncalled him, to be brought out of the grave into their house; but being\nanswered that the man was a neighbor, and that he was sound, but\noverwhelmed with the calamity of his family, and the like, they turned\ntheir anger into ridiculing the man and his sorrow for his wife and\nchildren, taunting him with want of courage to leap into the great pit,\nand go to heaven, as they jeeringly expressed it, along with them;\nadding some very profane and even blasphemous expressions.\nThey were at this vile work when I came back to the house; and as far as\nI could see, though the man sat still, mute and disconsolate, and their\naffronts could not divert his sorrow, yet he was both grieved and\noffended at their discourse. Upon this, I gently reproved them, being\nwell enough acquainted with their characters, and not unknown in person\nto two of them.\nThey immediately fell upon me with ill language and oaths, asked me\nwhat I did out of my grave at such a time, when so many honester men\nwere carried into the churchyard, and why I was not at home saying my\nprayers, against[120] the dead cart came for me, and the like.\nI was indeed astonished at the impudence of the men, though not at all\ndiscomposed at their treatment of me: however, I kept my temper. I told\nthem that though I defied them, or any man in the world, to tax me with\nany dishonesty, yet I acknowledged, that, in this terrible judgment of\nGod, many better than I were swept away, and carried to their grave;\nbut, to answer their question directly, the case was, that I was\nmercifully preserved by that great God whose name they had blasphemed\nand taken in vain by cursing and swearing in a dreadful manner; and that\nI believed I was preserved in particular, among other ends of his\ngoodness, that I might reprove them for their audacious boldness in\nbehaving in such a manner, and in such an awful time as this was,\nespecially for their jeering and mocking at an honest gentleman and a\nneighbor, for some of them knew him, who they saw was overwhelmed with\nsorrow for the breaches which it had pleased God to make upon his\nfamily.\nI cannot call exactly to mind the hellish, abominable raillery which was\nthe return they made to that talk of mine, being provoked, it seems,\nthat I was not at all afraid to be free with them; nor, if I could\nremember, would I fill my account with any of the words, the horrid\noaths, curses, and vile expressions such as, at that time of the day,\neven the worst and ordinariest people in the street would not use: for,\nexcept such hardened creatures as these, the most wicked wretches that\ncould be found had at that time some terror upon their mind of the hand\nof that Power which could thus in a moment destroy them.\nBut that which was the worst in all their devilish language was, that\nthey were not afraid to blaspheme God and talk atheistically, making a\njest at my calling the plague the hand of God, mocking, and even\nlaughing at the word \"judgment,\" as if the providence of God had no\nconcern in the inflicting such a desolating stroke; and that the people\ncalling upon God, as they saw the carts carrying away the dead bodies,\nwas all enthusiastic, absurd, and impertinent.\nI made them some reply, such as I thought proper, but which I found was\nso far from putting a check to their horrid way of speaking, that it\nmade them rail the more: so that I confess it filled me with horror and\na kind of rage; and I came away, as I told them, lest the hand of that\nJudgment which had visited the whole city should glorify his vengeance\nupon them and all that were near them.\nThey received all reproof with the utmost contempt, and made the\ngreatest mockery that was possible for them to do at me, giving me all\nthe opprobrious insolent scoffs that they could think of for preaching\nto them, as they called it, which, indeed, grieved me rather than\nangered me; and I went away, blessing God, however, in my mind, that I\nhad not spared them, though they had insulted me so much.\nThey continued this wretched course three or four days after this,\ncontinually mocking and jeering at all that showed themselves religious\nor serious, or that were any way touched with the sense of the terrible\njudgment of God upon us; and I was informed they flouted in the same\nmanner at the good people, who, notwithstanding the contagion, met at\nthe church, fasted, and prayed to God to remove his hand from them.\nI say they continued this dreadful course three or four days (I think it\nwas no more), when one of them, particularly he who asked the poor\ngentleman what he did out of his grave, was struck from Heaven with the\nplague, and died in a most deplorable manner; and, in a word, they were\nevery one of them carried into the great pit, which I have mentioned\nabove, before it was quite filled up, which was not above a fortnight or\nthereabout.\nThese men were guilty of many extravagances, such as one would think\nhuman nature should have trembled at the thoughts of, at such a time of\ngeneral terror as was then upon us, and particularly scoffing and\nmocking at everything which they happened to see that was religious\namong the people, especially at their thronging zealously to the place\nof public worship, to implore mercy from Heaven in such a time of\ndistress; and this tavern where they held their club, being within view\nof the church door, they had the more particular occasion for their\natheistical, profane mirth.\nBut this began to abate a little with them before the accident, which I\nhave related, happened; for the infection increased so violently at this\npart of the town now, that people began to be afraid to come to the\nchurch: at least such numbers did not resort thither as was usual. Many\nof the clergymen, likewise, were dead, and others gone into the country;\nfor it really required a steady courage and a strong faith, for a man\nnot only to venture being in town at such a time as this, but likewise\nto venture to come to church, and perform the office of a minister to a\ncongregation of whom he had reason to believe many of them were actually\ninfected with the plague, and to do this every day, or twice a day, as\nin some places was done.\nIt seems they had been checked, for their open insulting religion in\nthis manner, by several good people of every persuasion; and that[121]\nand the violent raging of the infection, I suppose, was the occasion\nthat they had abated much of their rudeness for some time before, and\nwere only roused by the spirit of ribaldry and atheism at the clamor\nwhich was made when the gentleman was first brought in there, and\nperhaps were agitated by the same devil when I took upon me to reprove\nthem; though I did it at first with all the calmness, temper, and good\nmanners that I could, which, for a while, they insulted me the more for,\nthinking it had been in fear of their resentment, though afterwards they\nfound the contrary.[122]\nThese things lay upon my mind, and I went home very much grieved and\noppressed with the horror of these men's wickedness, and to think that\nanything could be so vile, so hardened, and so notoriously wicked, as to\ninsult God, and his servants and his worship, in such a manner, and at\nsuch a time as this was, when he had, as it were, his sword drawn in his\nhand, on purpose to take vengeance, not on them only, but on the whole\nnation.\nI had indeed been in some passion at first with them, though it was\nreally raised, not by any affront they had offered me personally, but by\nthe horror their blaspheming tongues filled me with. However, I was\ndoubtful in my thoughts whether the resentment I retained was not all\nupon my own private account; for they had given me a great deal of ill\nlanguage too, I mean personally: but after some pause, and having a\nweight of grief upon my mind, I retired myself as soon as I came home\n(for I slept not that night), and, giving God most humble thanks for my\npreservation in the imminent danger I had been in, I set my mind\nseriously and with the utmost earnestness to pray for those desperate\nwretches, that God would pardon them, open their eyes, and effectually\nhumble them.\nBy this I not only did my duty, namely, to pray for those who\ndespitefully used me, but I fully tried my own heart, to my full\nsatisfaction that it was not filled with any spirit of resentment as\nthey had offended me in particular; and I humbly recommend the method to\nall those that would know, or be certain, how to distinguish between\ntheir zeal for the honor of God and the effects of their private\npassions and resentment.\nI remember a citizen, who, having broken out of his house in Aldersgate\nStreet or thereabout, went along the road to Islington. He attempted to\nhave gone[123] in at the Angel Inn, and after that at the White Horse,\ntwo inns known still by the same signs, but was refused, after which he\ncame to the Pyed[124] Bull, an inn also still continuing the same sign.\nHe asked them for lodging for one night only, pretending to be going\ninto Lincolnshire, and assuring them of his being very sound, and free\nfrom the infection, which also at that time had not reached much that\nway.\nThey told him they had no lodging that they could spare but one bed up\nin the garret, and that they could spare that bed but for one night,\nsome drovers being expected the next day with cattle: so, if he would\naccept of that lodging, he might have it, which he did. So a servant was\nsent up with a candle with him to show him the room. He was very well\ndressed, and looked like a person not used to lie in a garret; and when\nhe came to the room, he fetched a deep sigh, and said to the servant, \"I\nhave seldom lain in such a lodging as this.\" However, the servant\nassured him again that they had no better. \"Well,\" says he, \"I must make\nshift.[125] This is a dreadful time, but it is but for one night.\" So he\nsat down upon the bedside, and bade the maid, I think it was, fetch him\na pint of warm ale. Accordingly the servant went for the ale; but some\nhurry in the house, which perhaps employed her other ways, put it out of\nher head, and she went up no more to him.\nThe next morning, seeing no appearance of the gentleman, somebody in the\nhouse asked the servant that had showed him upstairs what was become of\nhim. She started. \"Alas!\" says she, \"I never thought more of him. He\nbade me carry him some warm ale, but I forgot.\" Upon which, not the\nmaid, but some other person, was sent up to see after him, who, coming\ninto the room, found him stark dead, and almost cold, stretched out\nacross the bed. His clothes were pulled off, his jaw fallen, his eyes\nopen in a most frightful posture, the rug of the bed being grasped hard\nin one of his hands, so that it was plain he died soon after the maid\nleft him; and it is probable, had she gone up with the ale, she had\nfound him dead in a few minutes after he had sat down upon the bed. The\nalarm was great in the house, as any one may suppose, they having been\nfree from the distemper till that disaster, which, bringing the\ninfection to the house, spread it immediately to other houses round\nabout it. I do not remember how many died in the house itself; but I\nthink the maidservant who went up first with him fell presently ill by\nthe fright, and several others; for, whereas there died but two in\nIslington of the plague the week before, there died nineteen the week\nafter, whereof fourteen were of the plague. This was in the week from\nthe 11th of July to the 18th.\nThere was one shift[126] that some families had, and that not a few,\nwhen their houses happened to be infected, and that was this: the\nfamilies who in the first breaking out of the distemper fled away into\nthe country, and had retreats among their friends, generally found some\nor other of their neighbors or relations to commit the charge of those\nhouses to, for the safety of the goods and the like. Some houses were\nindeed entirely locked up, the doors padlocked, the windows and doors\nhaving deal boards nailed over them, and only the inspection of them\ncommitted to the ordinary watchmen and parish officers; but these were\nbut few.\nIt was thought that there were not less than a thousand houses forsaken\nof the inhabitants in the city and suburbs, including what was in the\noutparishes and in Surrey, or the side of the water they called\nSouthwark. This was besides the numbers of lodgers and of particular\npersons who were fled out of other families; so that in all it was\ncomputed that about two hundred thousand people were fled and gone in\nall.[127] But of this I shall speak again. But I mention it here on this\naccount: namely, that it was a rule with those who had thus two houses\nin their keeping or care, that, if anybody was taken sick in a family,\nbefore the master of the family let the examiners or any other officer\nknow of it, he immediately would send all the rest of his family,\nwhether children or servants as it fell out to be, to such other house\nwhich he had not in charge, and then, giving notice of the sick person\nto the examiner, have a nurse or nurses appointed, and having another\nperson to be shut up in the house with them (which many for money would\ndo), so to take charge of the house in case the person should die.\nThis was in many cases the saving a whole family, who, if they had been\nshut up with the sick person, would inevitably have perished. But, on\nthe other hand, this was another of the inconveniences of shutting up\nhouses; for the apprehensions and terror of being shut up made many run\naway with the rest of the family, who, though it was not publicly known,\nand they were not quite sick, had yet the distemper upon them; and who,\nby having an uninterrupted liberty to go about, but being obliged still\nto conceal their circumstances, or perhaps not knowing it themselves,\ngave the distemper to others, and spread the infection in a dreadful\nmanner, as I shall explain further hereafter.\nI had in my family only an ancient woman that managed the house, a\nmaidservant, two apprentices, and myself; and, the plague beginning to\nincrease about us, I had many sad thoughts about what course I should\ntake and how I should act. The many dismal objects[128] which happened\neverywhere as I went about the streets had filled my mind with a great\ndeal of horror, for fear of the distemper itself, which was indeed very\nhorrible in itself, and in some more than others. The swellings, which\nwere generally in the neck or groin, when they grew hard, and would not\nbreak, grew so painful that it was equal to the most exquisite torture;\nand some, not able to bear the torment, threw themselves out at windows,\nor shot themselves, or otherwise made themselves away, and I saw several\ndismal objects of that kind. Others, unable to contain themselves,\nvented their pain by incessant roarings; and such loud and lamentable\ncries were to be heard, as we walked along the streets, that[129] would\npierce the very heart to think of, especially when it was to be\nconsidered that the same dreadful scourge might be expected every moment\nto seize upon ourselves.\nI cannot say but that now I began to faint in my resolutions. My heart\nfailed me very much, and sorely I repented of my rashness, when I had\nbeen out, and met with such terrible things as these I have talked of. I\nsay I repented my rashness in venturing to abide in town, and I wished\noften that I had not taken upon me to stay, but had gone away with my\nbrother and his family.\nTerrified by those frightful objects, I would retire home sometimes, and\nresolve to go out no more; and perhaps I would keep those resolutions\nfor three or four days, which time I spent in the most serious\nthankfulness for my preservation and the preservation of my family, and\nthe constant confession of my sins, giving myself up to God every day,\nand applying to him with fasting and humiliation and meditation. Such\nintervals as I had, I employed in reading books and in writing down my\nmemorandums of what occurred to me every day, and out of which,\nafterwards, I took most of this work, as it relates to my observations\nwithout doors. What I wrote of my private meditations I reserve for\nprivate use, and desire it may not be made public on any account\nwhatever.\nI also wrote other meditations upon divine subjects, such as occurred to\nme at that time, and were profitable to myself, but not fit for any\nother view, and therefore I say no more of that.\nI had a very good friend, a physician, whose name was Heath, whom I\nfrequently visited during this dismal time, and to whose advice I was\nvery much obliged for many things which he directed me to take by way of\npreventing the infection when I went out, as he found I frequently did,\nand to hold in my mouth when I was in the streets. He also came very\noften to see me; and as he was a good Christian, as well as a good\nphysician, his agreeable conversation was a very great support to me in\nthe worst of this terrible time.\nIt was now the beginning of August, and the plague grew very violent and\nterrible in the place where I lived; and Dr. Heath coming to visit me,\nand finding that I ventured so often out in the streets, earnestly\npersuaded me to lock myself up, and my family, and not to suffer any of\nus to go out of doors; to keep all our windows fast, shutters and\ncurtains close, and never to open them, but first to make a very strong\nsmoke in the room, where the window or door was to be opened, with\nrosin[130] and pitch, brimstone and gunpowder, and the like; and we did\nthis for some time. But, as I had not laid in a store of provision for\nsuch a retreat, it was impossible that we could keep within doors\nentirely. However, I attempted, though it was so very late, to do\nsomething towards it; and first, as I had convenience both for brewing\nand baking, I went and bought two sacks of meal, and for several weeks,\nhaving an oven, we baked all our own bread; also I bought malt, and\nbrewed as much beer as all the casks I had would hold, and which seemed\nenough to serve my house for five or six weeks; also I laid in a\nquantity of salt butter and Cheshire cheese; but I had no flesh\nmeat,[131] and the plague raged so violently among the butchers and\nslaughterhouses on the other side of our street, where they are known to\ndwell in great numbers, that it was not advisable so much as to go over\nthe street among them.\nAnd here I must observe again, that this necessity of going out of our\nhouses to buy provisions was in a great measure the ruin of the whole\ncity; for the people catched the distemper, on these occasions, one of\nanother; and even the provisions themselves were often tainted (at least\nI have great reason to believe so), and therefore I cannot say with\nsatisfaction, what I know is repeated with great assurance, that the\nmarket people, and such as brought provisions to town, were never\ninfected. I am certain the butchers of Whitechapel, where the greatest\npart of the flesh meat was killed, were dreadfully visited, and that at\nlast to such a degree that few of their shops were kept open; and those\nthat remained of them killed their meat at Mile End, and that way, and\nbrought it to market upon horses.\nHowever, the poor people could not lay up provisions, and there was a\nnecessity that they must go to market to buy, and others to send\nservants or their children; and, as this was a necessity which renewed\nitself daily, it brought abundance of unsound people to the markets; and\na great many that went thither sound brought death home with them.\nIt is true, people used all possible precaution. When any one bought a\njoint of meat in the market, they[132] would not take it out of the\nbutcher's hand, but took it off the hooks themselves.[132] On the other\nhand, the butcher would not touch the money, but have it put into a pot\nfull of vinegar, which he kept for that purpose. The buyer carried\nalways small money to make up any odd sum, that they might take no\nchange. They carried bottles for scents and perfumes in their hands, and\nall the means that could be used were employed; but then the poor could\nnot do even these things, and they went at all hazards.\nInnumerable dismal stories we heard every day on this very account.\nSometimes a man or woman dropped down dead in the very markets; for many\npeople that had the plague upon them knew nothing of it till the inward\ngangrene had affected their vitals, and they died in a few moments. This\ncaused that many died frequently in that manner in the street suddenly,\nwithout any warning: others, perhaps, had time to go to the next\nbulk[133] or stall, or to any door or porch, and just sit down and die,\nas I have said before.\nThese objects were so frequent in the streets, that when the plague came\nto be very raging on one side, there was scarce any passing by the\nstreets but that several dead bodies would be lying here and there upon\nthe ground. On the other hand, it is observable, that though at first\nthe people would stop as they went along, and call to the neighbors to\ncome out on such an occasion, yet afterward no notice was taken of them;\nbut that, if at any time we found a corpse lying, go across the way and\nnot come near it; or, if in a narrow lane or passage, go back again, and\nseek some other way to go on the business we were upon. And in those\ncases the corpse was always left till the officers had notice to come\nand take them away, or till night, when the bearers attending the dead\ncart would take them up and carry them away. Nor did those undaunted\ncreatures who performed these offices fail to search their pockets, and\nsometimes strip off their clothes, if they were well dressed, as\nsometimes they were, and carry off what they could get.\nBut to return to the markets. The butchers took that care, that, if any\nperson died in the market, they had the officers always at hand to take\nthem up upon handbarrows, and carry them to the next churchyard; and\nthis was so frequent that such were not entered in the weekly bill,\nfound dead in the streets or fields, as is the case now, but they went\ninto the general articles of the great distemper.\nBut now the fury of the distemper increased to such a degree, that even\nthe markets were but very thinly furnished with provisions, or\nfrequented with buyers, compared to what they were before; and the lord\nmayor caused the country people who brought provisions to be stopped in\nthe streets leading into the town, and to sit down there with their\ngoods, where they sold what they brought, and went immediately away. And\nthis encouraged the country people greatly to do so; for they sold their\nprovisions at the very entrances into the town, and even in the fields,\nas particularly in the fields beyond Whitechapel, in Spittlefields.\nNote, those streets now called Spittlefields were then indeed open\nfields; also in St. George's Fields in Southwark, in Bunhill Fields, and\nin a great field called Wood's Close, near Islington. Thither the lord\nmayor, aldermen, and magistrates sent their officers and servants to buy\nfor their families, themselves keeping within doors as much as possible;\nand the like did many other people. And after this method was taken, the\ncountry people came with great cheerfulness, and brought provisions of\nall sorts, and very seldom got any harm, which, I suppose, added also\nto that report of their being miraculously preserved.[134]\nAs for my little family, having thus, as I have said, laid in a store of\nbread, butter, cheese, and beer, I took my friend and physician's\nadvice, and locked myself up, and my family, and resolved to suffer the\nhardship of living a few months without flesh meat rather than to\npurchase it at the hazard of our lives.\nBut, though I confined my family, I could not prevail upon my\nunsatisfied curiosity to stay within entirely myself, and, though I\ngenerally came frighted and terrified home, yet I could not restrain,\nonly that, indeed, I did not do it so frequently as at first.\nI had some little obligations, indeed, upon me to go to my brother's\nhouse, which was in Coleman Street Parish, and which he had left to my\ncare; and I went at first every day, but afterwards only once or twice a\nweek.\nIn these walks I had many dismal scenes before my eyes, as,\nparticularly, of persons falling dead in the streets, terrible shrieks\nand screechings of women, who in their agonies would throw open their\nchamber windows, and cry out in a dismal surprising manner. It is\nimpossible to describe the variety of postures in which the passions of\nthe poor people would express themselves.\nPassing through Token-House Yard in Lothbury, of a sudden a casement\nviolently opened just over my head, and a woman gave three frightful\nscreeches, and then cried, \"O death, death, death!\" in a most inimitable\ntone, and which[135] struck me with horror, and[136] a chillness in my\nvery blood. There was nobody to be seen in the whole street, neither did\nany other window open, for people had no curiosity now in any case, nor\ncould anybody help one another: so I went on to pass into Bell Alley.\nJust in Bell Alley, on the right hand of the passage, there was a more\nterrible cry than that, though it was not so directed out at the window.\nBut the whole family was in a terrible fright, and I could hear women\nand children run screaming about the rooms like distracted, when a\ngarret window opened, and somebody from a window on the other side the\nalley called, and asked, \"What is the matter?\" Upon which from the first\nwindow it was answered, \"O Lord, my old master has hanged himself!\" The\nother asked again, \"Is he quite dead?\" and the first answered, \"Ay, ay,\nquite dead; quite dead and cold!\" This person was a merchant and a\ndeputy alderman, and very rich. I care not to mention his name, though I\nknew his name too; but that would be a hardship to the family, which is\nnow flourishing again.[137]\nBut this is but one. It is scarce credible what dreadful cases happened\nin particular families every day,--people, in the rage of the distemper,\nor in the torment of their swellings, which was indeed intolerable,\nrunning out of their own government,[138] raving and distracted, and\noftentimes laying violent hands upon themselves, throwing themselves out\nat their windows, shooting themselves, etc.; mothers murdering their own\nchildren in their lunacy; some dying of mere grief as a passion, some of\nmere fright and surprise without any infection at all; others frighted\ninto idiotism[139] and foolish distractions, some into despair and\nlunacy, others into melancholy madness.\nThe pain of the swelling was in particular very violent, and to some\nintolerable. The physicians and surgeons may be said to have tortured\nmany poor creatures even to death. The swellings in some grew hard, and\nthey applied violent drawing plasters, or poultices, to break them; and,\nif these did not do, they cut and scarified them in a terrible manner.\nIn some, those swellings were made hard, partly by the force of the\ndistemper, and partly by their being too violently drawn, and were so\nhard that no instrument could cut them; and then they burned them with\ncaustics, so that many died raving mad with the torment, and some in the\nvery operation. In these distresses, some, for want of help to hold them\ndown in their beds or to look to them, laid hands upon themselves as\nabove; some broke out into the streets, perhaps naked, and would run\ndirectly down to the river, if they were not stopped by the watchmen or\nother officers, and plunge themselves into the water wherever they found\nit.\nIt often pierced my very soul to hear the groans and cries of those who\nwere thus tormented. But of the two, this was counted the most promising\nparticular in the whole infection: for if these swellings could be\nbrought to a head, and to break and run, or, as the surgeons call it, to\n\"digest,\" the patient generally recovered; whereas those who, like the\ngentlewoman's daughter, were struck with death at the beginning, and had\nthe tokens come out upon them, often went about indifferently easy till\na little before they died, and some till the moment they dropped down,\nas in apoplexies and epilepsies is often the case. Such would be taken\nsuddenly very sick, and would run to a bench or bulk, or any convenient\nplace that offered itself, or to their own houses, if possible, as I\nmentioned before, and there sit down, grow faint, and die. This kind of\ndying was much the same as it was with those who die of common\nmortifications,[140] who die swooning, and, as it were, go away in a\ndream. Such as died thus had very little notice of their being infected\nat all till the gangrene was spread through their whole body; nor could\nphysicians themselves know certainly how it was with them till they\nopened their breasts, or other parts of their body, and saw the tokens.\nWe had at this time a great many frightful stories told us of nurses and\nwatchmen who looked after the dying people (that is to say, hired\nnurses, who attended infected people), using them barbarously, starving\nthem, smothering them, or by other wicked means hastening their end,\nthat is to say, murdering of them. And watchmen being set to guard\nhouses that were shut up, when there has been but one person left, and\nperhaps that one lying sick, that[141] they have broke in and murdered\nthat body, and immediately thrown them out into the dead cart; and so\nthey have gone scarce cold to the grave.\nI cannot say but that some such murders were committed, and I think two\nwere sent to prison for it, but died before they could be tried; and I\nhave heard that three others, at several times, were executed for\nmurders of that kind. But I must say I believe nothing of its being so\ncommon a crime as some have since been pleased to say; nor did it seem\nto be so rational, where the people were brought so low as not to be\nable to help themselves; for such seldom recovered, and there was no\ntemptation to commit a murder, at least not equal to the fact, where\nthey were sure persons would die in so short a time, and could not live.\nThat there were a great many robberies and wicked practices committed\neven in this dreadful time, I do not deny. The power of avarice was so\nstrong in some, that they would run any hazard to steal and to plunder;\nand, particularly in houses where all the families or inhabitants have\nbeen dead and carried out, they would break in at all hazards, and,\nwithout regard to the danger of infection, take even the clothes off the\ndead bodies, and the bedclothes from others where they lay dead.\nThis, I suppose, must be the case of a family in Houndsditch, where a\nman and his daughter (the rest of the family being, as I suppose,\ncarried away before by the dead cart) were found stark naked, one in one\nchamber and one in another, lying dead on the floor, and the clothes of\nthe beds (from whence it is supposed they were rolled off by thieves)\nstolen, and carried quite away.\nIt is indeed to be observed that the women were, in all this calamity,\nthe most rash, fearless, and desperate creatures. And, as there were\nvast numbers that went about as nurses to tend those that were sick,\nthey committed a great many petty thieveries in the houses where they\nwere employed; and some of them were publicly whipped for it, when\nperhaps they ought rather to have been hanged for examples,[142] for\nnumbers of houses were robbed on these occasions; till at length the\nparish officers were sent to recommend nurses to the sick, and always\ntook an account who it was they sent, so as that they might call them to\naccount if the house had been abused where they were placed.\nBut these robberies extended chiefly to wearing-clothes, linen, and what\nrings or money they could come at, when the person died who was under\ntheir care, but not to a general plunder of the houses. And I could give\nyou an account of one of these nurses, who several years after, being on\nher deathbed, confessed with the utmost horror the robberies she had\ncommitted at the time of her being a nurse, and by which she had\nenriched herself to a great degree. But as for murders, I do not find\nthat there was ever any proofs of the fact in the manner as it has been\nreported, except as above.\nThey did tell me, indeed, of a nurse in one place that laid a wet cloth\nupon the face of a dying patient whom she tended, and so put an end to\nhis life, who was just expiring before; and another that smothered a\nyoung woman she was looking to, when she was in a fainting fit, and\nwould have come to herself; some that killed them by giving them one\nthing, some another, and some starved them by giving them nothing at\nall. But these stories had two marks of suspicion that always attended\nthem, which caused me always to slight them, and to look on them as mere\nstories that people continually frighted one another with: (1) That\nwherever it was that we heard it, they always placed the scene at the\nfarther end of the town, opposite or most remote from where you were to\nhear it. If you heard it in Whitechapel, it had happened at St.\nGiles's, or at Westminster, or Holborn, or that end of the town; if you\nheard it at that end of the town, then it was done in Whitechapel, or\nthe Minories, or about Cripplegate Parish; if you heard of it in the\ncity, why, then, it happened in Southwark; and, if you heard of it in\nSouthwark, then it was done in the city; and the like.\nIn the next place, of whatsoever part you heard the story, the\nparticulars were always the same, especially that of laying a wet double\nclout[143] on a dying man's face, and that of smothering a young\ngentlewoman: so that it was apparent, at least to my judgment, that\nthere was more of tale than of truth in those things.\nA neighbor and acquaintance of mine, having some money owing to him from\na shopkeeper in Whitecross Street or thereabouts, sent his apprentice, a\nyouth about eighteen years of age, to endeavor to get the money. He came\nto the door, and, finding it shut, knocked pretty hard, and, as he\nthought, heard somebody answer within, but was not sure: so he waited,\nand after some stay knocked again, and then a third time, when he heard\nsomebody coming downstairs.\nAt length the man of the house came to the door. He had on his breeches,\nor drawers, and a yellow flannel waistcoat, no stockings, a pair of slip\nshoes, a white cap on his head, and, as the young man said, death in his\nface.\nWhen he opened the door, says he, \"What do you disturb me thus for?\" The\nboy, though a little surprised, replied, \"I come from such a one; and my\nmaster sent me for the money, which he says you know of.\"--\"Very well,\nchild,\" returns the living ghost; \"call, as you go by, at Cripplegate\nChurch, and bid them ring the bell,\" and with these words shut the door\nagain, and went up again, and died the same day, nay, perhaps the same\nhour. This the young man told me himself, and I have reason to believe\nit. This was while the plague was not come to a height. I think it was\nin June, towards the latter end of the month. It must have been before\nthe dead carts came about, and while they used the ceremony of ringing\nthe bell for the dead, which was over for certain, in that parish at\nleast, before the month of July; for by the 25th of July there died five\nhundred and fifty and upwards in a week, and then they could no more\nbury in form[144] rich or poor.\nI have mentioned above, that, notwithstanding this dreadful calamity,\nyet that[145] numbers of thieves were abroad upon all occasions where\nthey had found any prey, and that these were generally women. It was one\nmorning about eleven o'clock, I had walked out to my brother's house in\nColeman Street Parish, as I often did, to see that all was safe.\nMy brother's house had a little court before it, and a brick wall and a\ngate in it, and within that several warehouses, where his goods of\nseveral sorts lay. It happened that in one of these warehouses were\nseveral packs of women's high-crowned hats, which came out of the\ncountry, and were, as I suppose, for exportation, whither I know not.\nI was surprised that when I came near my brother's door, which was in a\nplace they called Swan Alley, I met three or four women with\nhigh-crowned hats on their heads; and, as I remembered afterwards, one,\nif not more, had some hats likewise in their hands. But as I did not see\nthem come out at my brother's door, and not knowing that my brother had\nany such goods in his warehouse, I did not offer to say anything to\nthem, but went across the way to shun meeting them, as was usual to do\nat that time, for fear of the plague. But when I came nearer to the\ngate, I met another woman, with more hats, come out of the gate. \"What\nbusiness, mistress,\" said I, \"have you had there?\"--\"There are more\npeople there,\" said she. \"I have had no more business there than they.\"\nI was hasty to get to the gate then, and said no more to her; by which\nmeans she got away. But just as I came to the gate, I saw two more\ncoming across the yard, to come out, with hats also on their heads and\nunder their arms; at which I threw the gate to behind me, which, having\na spring lock, fastened itself. And turning to the women, \"Forsooth,\"\nsaid I, \"what are you doing here?\" and seized upon the hats, and took\nthem from them. One of them, who, I confess, did not look like a thief,\n\"Indeed,\" says she, \"we are wrong; but we were told they were goods that\nhad no owner: be pleased to take them again. And look yonder: there are\nmore such customers as we.\" She cried, and looked pitifully: so I took\nthe hats from her, and opened the gate, and bade them begone, for I\npitied the women indeed. But when I looked towards the warehouse, as she\ndirected, there were six or seven more, all women, fitting themselves\nwith hats, as unconcerned and quiet as if they had been at a hatter's\nshop buying for their money.\nI was surprised, not at the sight of so many thieves only, but at the\ncircumstances I was in; being now to thrust myself in among so many\npeople, who for some weeks I had been so shy of myself, that, if I met\nanybody in the street, I would cross the way from them.\nThey were equally surprised, though on another account. They all told me\nthey were neighbors; that they had heard any one might take them; that\nthey were nobody's goods; and the like. I talked big to them at first;\nwent back to the gate and took out the key, so that they were all my\nprisoners; threatened to lock them all into the warehouse, and go and\nfetch my lord mayor's officers for them.\nThey begged heartily, protested they found the gate open, and the\nwarehouse door open, and that it had no doubt been broken open by some\nwho expected to find goods of greater value; which indeed was reasonable\nto believe, because the lock was broke, and a padlock that hung to the\ndoor on the outside also loose, and not abundance of the hats carried\naway.\nAt length I considered that this was not a time to be cruel and\nrigorous; and besides that, it would necessarily oblige me to go much\nabout, to have several people come to me, and I go to several, whose\ncircumstances of health I knew nothing of; and that, even at this time,\nthe plague was so high as that there died four thousand a week; so that,\nin showing my resentment, or even in seeking justice for my brother's\ngoods, I might lose my own life. So I contented myself with taking the\nnames and places where some of them lived, who were really inhabitants\nin the neighborhood, and threatening that my brother should call them to\nan account for it when he returned to his habitation.\nThen I talked a little upon another footing with them, and asked them\nhow they could do such things as these in a time of such general\ncalamity, and, as it were, in the face of God's most dreadful judgments,\nwhen the plague was at their very doors, and, it may be, in their very\nhouses, and they did not know but that the dead cart might stop at their\ndoors in a few hours, to carry them to their graves.\nI could not perceive that my discourse made much impression upon them\nall that while, till it happened that there came two men of the\nneighborhood, hearing of the disturbance, and knowing my brother (for\nthey had been both dependents upon his family), and they came to my\nassistance. These being, as I said, neighbors, presently knew three of\nthe women, and told me who they were, and where they lived, and it seems\nthey had given me a true account of themselves before.\nThis brings these two men to a further remembrance. The name of one was\nJohn Hayward, who was at that time under-sexton of the parish of St.\nStephen, Coleman Street (by under-sexton was understood at that time\ngravedigger and bearer of the dead). This man carried, or assisted to\ncarry, all the dead to their graves, which were buried in that large\nparish, and who were carried in form, and, after that form of burying\nwas stopped, went with the dead cart and the bell to fetch the dead\nbodies from the houses where they lay, and fetched many of them out of\nthe chambers and houses; for the parish was, and is still, remarkable,\nparticularly above all the parishes in London, for a great number of\nalleys and thoroughfares, very long, into which no carts could come,\nand where they were obliged to go and fetch the bodies a very long way,\nwhich alleys now remain to witness it; such as White's Alley, Cross Keys\nCourt, Swan Alley, Bell Alley, White Horse Alley, and many more. Here\nthey went with a kind of handbarrow, and laid the dead bodies on, and\ncarried them out to the carts; which work he performed, and never had\nthe distemper at all, but lived about twenty years after it, and was\nsexton of the parish to the time of his death. His wife at the same time\nwas a nurse to infected people, and tended many that died in the parish,\nbeing for her honesty recommended by the parish officers; yet she never\nwas infected, neither.[146]\nHe never used any preservative against the infection other than holding\ngarlic and rue[147] in his mouth, and smoking tobacco. This I also had\nfrom his own mouth. And his wife's remedy was washing her head in\nvinegar, and sprinkling her head-clothes so with vinegar as to keep them\nalways moist; and, if the smell of any of those she waited on was more\nthan ordinary offensive, she snuffed vinegar up her nose, and sprinkled\nvinegar upon her head-clothes, and held a handkerchief wetted with\nvinegar to her mouth.\nIt must be confessed, that, though the plague was chiefly among the\npoor, yet were the poor the most venturous and fearless of it, and went\nabout their employment with a sort of brutal courage: I must call it so,\nfor it was founded neither on religion or prudence. Scarce did they use\nany caution, but ran into any business which they could get any\nemployment in, though it was the most hazardous; such was that of\ntending the sick, watching houses shut up, carrying infected persons to\nthe pesthouse, and, which was still worse, carrying the dead away to\ntheir graves.\nIt was under this John Hayward's care, and within his bounds, that the\nstory of the piper, with which people have made themselves so merry,\nhappened; and he assured me that it was true. It is said that it was a\nblind piper; but, as John told me, the fellow was not blind, but an\nignorant, weak, poor man, and usually went his rounds about ten o'clock\nat night, and went piping along from door to door. And the people\nusually took him in at public houses where they knew him, and would give\nhim drink and victuals, and sometimes farthings; and he in return would\npipe and sing, and talk simply, which diverted the people; and thus he\nlived. It was but a very bad time for this diversion while things were\nas I have told; yet the poor fellow went about as usual, but was almost\nstarved: and when anybody asked how he did, he would answer, the dead\ncart had not taken him yet, but that they had promised to call for him\nnext week.\nIt happened one night that this poor fellow, whether somebody had given\nhim too much drink or no (John Hayward said he had not drink in his\nhouse, but that they had given him a little more victuals than ordinary\nat a public house in Coleman Street), and the poor fellow having not\nusually had a bellyful, or perhaps not a good while, was laid all along\nupon the top of a bulk or stall, and fast asleep at a door in the street\nnear London Wall, towards Cripplegate; and that, upon the same bulk or\nstall, the people of some house in the alley of which the house was a\ncorner, hearing a bell (which they always rung before the cart came),\nhad laid a body really dead of the plague just by him, thinking too that\nthis poor fellow had been a dead body as the other was, and laid there\nby some of the neighbors.\nAccordingly, when John Hayward with his bell and the cart came along,\nfinding two dead bodies lie upon the stall, they took them up with the\ninstrument they used, and threw them into the cart; and all this while\nthe piper slept soundly.\nFrom hence they passed along, and took in other dead bodies, till, as\nhonest John Hayward told me, they almost buried him alive in the cart;\nyet all this while he slept soundly. At length the cart came to the\nplace where the bodies were to be thrown into the ground, which, as I do\nremember, was at Mountmill; and, as the cart usually stopped some time\nbefore they were ready to shoot out the melancholy load they had in it,\nas soon as the cart stopped, the fellow awaked, and struggled a little\nto get his head out from among the dead bodies; when, raising himself up\nin the cart, he called out, \"Hey, where am I?\" This frighted the fellow\nthat attended about the work; but, after some pause, John Hayward,\nrecovering himself, said, \"Lord bless us! There's somebody in the cart\nnot quite dead!\" So another called to him, and said, \"Who are you?\" The\nfellow answered, \"I am the poor piper. Where am I?\"--\"Where are you?\"\nsays Hayward. \"Why, you are in the dead cart, and we are going to bury\nyou.\"--\"But I ain't dead, though, am I?\" says the piper; which made them\nlaugh a little, though, as John said, they were heartily frightened at\nfirst. So they helped the poor fellow down, and he went about his\nbusiness.\nI know the story goes, he set up[148] his pipes in the cart, and\nfrighted the bearers and others, so that they ran away; but John Hayward\ndid not tell the story so, nor say anything of his piping at all. But\nthat he was a poor piper, and that he was carried away as above, I am\nfully satisfied of the truth of.\nIt is to be noted here that the dead carts in the city were not confined\nto particular parishes; but one cart went through several parishes,\naccording as the number of dead presented. Nor were they tied[149] to\ncarry the dead to their respective parishes; but many of the dead taken\nup in the city were carried to the burying ground in the outparts for\nwant of room.\nAt the beginning of the plague, when there was now no more hope but that\nthe whole city would be visited; when, as I have said, all that had\nfriends or estates in the country retired with their families; and when,\nindeed, one would have thought the very city itself was running out of\nthe gates, and that there would be nobody left behind,--you may be sure\nfrom that hour all trade, except such as related to immediate\nsubsistence, was, as it were, at a full stop.\nThis is so lively a case, and contains in it so much of the real\ncondition of the people, that I think I cannot be too particular in it,\nand therefore I descend to the several arrangements or classes of people\nwho fell into immediate distress upon this occasion. For example:--\n1. All master workmen in manufactures, especially such as belonged to\nornament and the less necessary parts of the people's dress, clothes,\nand furniture for houses; such as ribbon-weavers and other weavers, gold\nand silver lacemakers, and gold and silver wire-drawers, seamstresses,\nmilliners, shoemakers, hatmakers, and glovemakers, also upholsterers,\njoiners, cabinet-makers, looking-glass-makers, and innumerable trades\nwhich depend upon such as these,--I say, the master workmen in such\nstopped their work, dismissed their journeymen and workmen and all their\ndependents.\n2. As merchandising was at a full stop (for very few ships ventured to\ncome up the river, and none at all went out[150]), so all the\nextraordinary officers of the customs, likewise the watermen, carmen,\nporters, and all the poor whose labor depended upon the merchants, were\nat once dismissed, and put out of business.\n3. All the tradesmen usually employed in building or repairing of houses\nwere at a full stop; for the people were far from wanting to build\nhouses when so many thousand houses were at once stripped of their\ninhabitants; so that this one article[151] turned out all the ordinary\nworkmen of that kind of business, such as bricklayers, masons,\ncarpenters, joiners, plasterers, painters, glaziers, smiths, plumbers,\nand all the laborers depending on such.\n4. As navigation was at a stop, our ships neither coming in or going out\nas before, so the seamen were all out of employment, and many of them in\nthe last and lowest degree of distress. And with the seamen were all the\nseveral tradesmen and workmen belonging to and depending upon the\nbuilding and fitting out of ships; such as ship-carpenters, calkers,\nropemakers, dry coopers, sailmakers, anchor-smiths, and other smiths,\nblockmakers, carvers, gunsmiths, ship-chandlers, ship-carvers, and the\nlike. The masters of those, perhaps, might live upon their substance;\nbut the traders were universally at a stop, and consequently all their\nworkmen discharged. Add to these, that the river was in a manner without\nboats, and all or most part of the watermen, lighter-men, boat-builders,\nand lighter-builders, in like manner idle and laid by.\n5. All families retrenched their living as much as possible, as well\nthose that fled as those that staid; so that an innumerable multitude of\nfootmen, serving men, shopkeepers, journeymen, merchants' bookkeepers,\nand such sort of people, and especially poor maidservants, were turned\noff, and left friendless and helpless, without employment and without\nhabitation; and this was really a dismal article.\nI might be more particular as to this part; but it may suffice to\nmention, in general, all trades being stopped, employment ceased, the\nlabor, and by that the bread of the poor, were cut off; and at first,\nindeed, the cries of the poor were most lamentable to hear, though, by\nthe distribution of charity, their misery that way was gently[152]\nabated. Many, indeed, fled into the country; but, thousands of them\nhaving staid in London till nothing but desperation sent them away,\ndeath overtook them on the road, and they served for no better than the\nmessengers of death: indeed, others carrying the infection along with\nthem, spread it very unhappily into the remotest parts of the kingdom.\nThe women and servants that were turned off from their places were\nemployed as nurses to tend the sick in all places, and this took off a\nvery great number of them.\nAnd which,[153] though a melancholy article in itself, yet was a\ndeliverance in its kind, namely, the plague, which raged in a dreadful\nmanner from the middle of August to the middle of October, carried off\nin that time thirty or forty thousand of these very people, which, had\nthey been left, would certainly have been an insufferable burden by\ntheir poverty; that is to say, the whole city could not have supported\nthe expense of them, or have provided food for them, and they would in\ntime have been even driven to the necessity of plundering either the\ncity itself, or the country adjacent, to have subsisted themselves,\nwhich would, first or last, have put the whole nation, as well as the\ncity, into the utmost terror and confusion.\nIt was observable, then, that this calamity of the people made them very\nhumble; for now, for about nine weeks together, there died near a\nthousand a day, one day with another, even by the account of the weekly\nbills, which yet, I have reason to be assured, never gave a full account\nby many thousands; the confusion being such, and the carts working in\nthe dark when they carried the dead, that in some places no account at\nall was kept, but they worked on; the clerks and sextons not attending\nfor weeks together, and not knowing what number they carried. This\naccount is verified by the following bills of mortality:--\n                          Of All Diseases.  Of the Plague.\nSo that the gross of the people were carried off in these two months;\nfor, as the whole number which was brought in to die of the plague was\nbut 68,590, here is[154] 50,000 of them, within a trifle, in two\nmonths: I say 50,000, because as there wants 395 in the number above, so\nthere wants two days of two months in the account of time.[155]\nNow, when I say that the parish officers did not give in a full account,\nor were not to be depended upon for their account, let any one but\nconsider how men could be exact in such a time of dreadful distress, and\nwhen many of them were taken sick themselves, and perhaps died in the\nvery time when their accounts were to be given in (I mean the parish\nclerks, besides inferior officers): for though these poor men ventured\nat all hazards, yet they were far from being exempt from the common\ncalamity, especially if it be true that the parish of Stepney had within\nthe year one hundred and sixteen sextons, gravediggers, and their\nassistants; that is to say, bearers, bellmen, and drivers of carts for\ncarrying off the dead bodies.\nIndeed, the work was not of such a nature as to allow them leisure to\ntake an exact tale[156] of the dead bodies, which were all huddled\ntogether in the dark into a pit; which pit, or trench, no man could come\nnigh but at the utmost peril. I have observed often that in the parishes\nof Aldgate, Cripplegate, Whitechapel, and Stepney, there were five, six,\nseven, and eight hundred in a week in the bills; whereas, if we may\nbelieve the opinion of those that lived in the city all the time, as\nwell as I, there died sometimes two thousand a week in those parishes.\nAnd I saw it under the hand of one that made as strict an examination as\nhe could, that there really died a hundred thousand people of the plague\nin it that one year; whereas, in the bills, the article of the plague\nwas but 68,590.\nIf I may be allowed to give my opinion, by what I saw with my eyes, and\nheard from other people that were eyewitnesses, I do verily believe the\nsame; viz., that there died at least a hundred thousand of the plague\nonly, besides other distempers, and besides those which died in the\nfields and highways and secret places, out of the compass[157] of the\ncommunication, as it was called, and who were not put down in the bills,\nthough they really belonged to the body of the inhabitants. It was known\nto us all that abundance of poor despairing creatures who had the\ndistemper upon them, and were grown stupid or melancholy by their misery\n(as many were), wandered away into the fields and woods, and into secret\nuncouth[158] places, almost anywhere, to creep into a bush or hedge, and\ndie.\nThe inhabitants of the villages adjacent would in pity carry them food,\nand set it at a distance, that they might fetch it if they were able;\nand sometimes they were not able. And the next time they went they would\nfind the poor wretches lie[159] dead, and the food untouched. The number\nof these miserable objects were[160] many; and I know so many that\nperished thus, and so exactly where, that I believe I could go to the\nvery place, and dig their bones up still;[161] for the country people\nwould go and dig a hole at a distance from them, and then, with long\npoles and hooks at the end of them, drag the bodies into these pits, and\nthen throw the earth in form, as far as they could cast it, to cover\nthem, taking notice how the wind blew, and so come on that side which\nthe seamen call \"to windward,\" that the scent of the bodies might blow\nfrom them. And thus great numbers went out of the world who were never\nknown, or any account of them taken, as well within the bills of\nmortality as without.\nThis indeed I had, in the main, only from the relation of others; for I\nseldom walked into the fields,[162] except towards Bethnal Green and\nHackney, or as hereafter. But when I did walk, I always saw a great many\npoor wanderers at a distance, but I could know little of their cases;\nfor, whether it were in the street or in the fields, if we had seen\nanybody coming, it was a general method to walk away. Yet I believe the\naccount is exactly true.\nAs this puts me upon mentioning my walking the streets and fields, I\ncannot omit taking notice what a desolate place the city was at that\ntime. The great street I lived in, which is known to be one of the\nbroadest of all the streets of London (I mean of the suburbs as well as\nthe liberties, all the side where the butchers lived, especially without\nthe bars[163]), was more like a green field than a paved street; and the\npeople generally went in the middle with the horses and carts. It is\ntrue that the farthest end, towards Whitechapel Church, was not all\npaved, but even the part that was paved was full of grass also. But this\nneed not seem strange, since the great streets within the city, such as\nLeadenhall Street, Bishopsgate Street, Cornhill, and even the Exchange\nitself, had grass growing in them in several places. Neither cart nor\ncoach was seen in the streets from morning to evening, except some\ncountry carts to bring roots and beans, or pease, hay, and straw, to the\nmarket, and those but very few compared to what was usual. As for\ncoaches, they were scarce used, but to carry sick people to the\npesthouse and to other hospitals, and some few to carry physicians to\nsuch places as they thought fit to venture to visit; for really coaches\nwere dangerous things, and people did not care to venture into them,\nbecause they did not know who might have been carried in them last; and\nsick infected people were, as I have said, ordinarily carried in them to\nthe pesthouses; and sometimes people expired in them as they went along.\nIt is true, when the infection came to such a height as I have now\nmentioned, there were very few physicians who cared to stir abroad to\nsick houses, and very many of the most eminent of the faculty[164] were\ndead, as well as the surgeons also; for now it was indeed a dismal time,\nand for about a month together, not taking any notice of the bills of\nmortality, I believe there did not die less than fifteen or seventeen\nhundred a day, one day with another.\nOne of the worst days we had in the whole time, as I thought, was in\nthe beginning of September, when, indeed, good people were beginning to\nthink that God was resolved to make a full end of the people in this\nmiserable city. This was at that time when the plague was fully come\ninto the eastern parishes. The parish of Aldgate, if I may give my\nopinion, buried above one thousand a week for two weeks, though the\nbills did not say so many; but it[165] surrounded me at so dismal a\nrate, that there was not a house in twenty uninfected. In the Minories,\nin Houndsditch, and in those parts of Aldgate Parish about the Butcher\nRow, and the alleys over against me,--I say, in those places death\nreigned in every corner. Whitechapel Parish was in the same condition,\nand though much less than the parish I lived in, yet buried near six\nhundred a week, by the bills, and in my opinion near twice as many.\nWhole families, and indeed whole streets of families, were swept away\ntogether, insomuch that it was frequent for neighbors to call to the\nbellman to go to such and such houses and fetch out the people, for that\nthey were all dead.\nAnd indeed the work of removing the dead bodies by carts was now grown\nso very odious and dangerous, that it was complained of that the bearers\ndid not take care to clear such houses where all the inhabitants were\ndead, but that some of the bodies lay unburied till the neighboring\nfamilies were offended by the stench, and consequently infected. And\nthis neglect of the officers was such, that the churchwardens and\nconstables were summoned to look after it; and even the justices of the\nhamlets[166] were obliged to venture their lives among them to quicken\nand encourage them; for innumerable of the bearers died of the\ndistemper, infected by the bodies they were obliged to come so near. And\nhad it not been that the number of people who wanted employment, and\nwanted bread, as I have said before, was so great that necessity drove\nthem to undertake anything, and venture anything, they would never have\nfound people to be employed; and then the bodies of the dead would have\nlain above ground, and have perished and rotted in a dreadful manner.\nBut the magistrates cannot be enough commended in this, that they kept\nsuch good order for the burying of the dead, that as fast as any of\nthose they employed to carry off and bury the dead fell sick or died (as\nwas many times the case), they immediately supplied the places with\nothers; which, by reason of the great number of poor that was left out\nof business, as above, was not hard to do. This occasioned, that,\nnotwithstanding the infinite number of people which died and were sick,\nalmost all together, yet they were always cleared away, and carried off\nevery night; so that it was never to be said of London that the living\nwere not able to bury the dead.\nAs the desolation was greater during those terrible times, so the\namazement of the people increased; and a thousand unaccountable things\nthey would do in the violence of their fright, as others did the same in\nthe agonies of their distemper: and this part was very affecting. Some\nwent roaring, and crying, and wringing their hands, along the street;\nsome would go praying, and lifting up their hands to heaven, calling\nupon God for mercy. I cannot say, indeed, whether this was not in their\ndistraction; but, be it so, it was still an indication of a more serious\nmind when they had the use of their senses, and was much better, even as\nit was, than the frightful yellings and cryings that every day, and\nespecially in the evenings, were heard in some streets. I suppose the\nworld has heard of the famous Solomon Eagle, an enthusiast. He, though\nnot infected at all, but in his head, went about denouncing of judgment\nupon the city in a frightful manner; sometimes quite naked, and with a\npan of burning charcoal on his head. What he said or pretended, indeed,\nI could not learn.\nI will not say whether that clergyman was distracted or not, or whether\nhe did it out of pure zeal for the poor people, who went every evening\nthrough the streets of Whitechapel, and, with his hands lifted up,\nrepeated that part of the liturgy of the church continually, \"Spare us,\ngood Lord; spare thy people whom thou hast redeemed with thy most\nprecious blood.\" I say I cannot speak positively of these things,\nbecause these were only the dismal objects which represented themselves\nto me as I looked through my chamber windows; for I seldom opened the\ncasements while I confined myself within doors during that most violent\nraging of the pestilence, when indeed many began to think, and even to\nsay, that there would none escape. And indeed I began to think so too,\nand therefore kept within doors for about a fortnight, and never stirred\nout. But I could not hold it. Besides, there were some people, who,\nnotwithstanding the danger, did not omit publicly to attend the worship\nof God, even in the most dangerous times. And though it is true that a\ngreat many of the clergy did shut up their churches and fled, as other\npeople did, for the safety of their lives, yet all did not do so. Some\nventured to officiate, and to keep up the assemblies of the people by\nconstant prayers, and sometimes sermons, or brief exhortations to\nrepentance and reformation; and this as long as they would hear them.\nAnd dissenters[167] did the like also, and even in the very churches\nwhere the parish ministers were either dead or fled; nor was there any\nroom for making any difference at such a time as this was.\nIt pleased God that I was still spared, and very hearty and sound in\nhealth, but very impatient of being pent up within doors without air, as\nI had been for fourteen days or thereabouts. And I could not restrain\nmyself, but I would go and carry a letter for my brother to the\nposthouse; then it was, indeed, that I observed a profound silence in\nthe streets. When I came to the posthouse, as I went to put in my\nletter, I saw a man stand in one corner of the yard, and talking to\nanother at a window; and a third had opened a door belonging to the\noffice. In the middle of the yard lay a small leather purse, with two\nkeys hanging at it, with money in it; but nobody would meddle with it. I\nasked how long it had lain there. The man at the window said it had\nlain almost an hour, but they had not meddled with it, because they did\nnot know but the person who dropped it might come back to look for it. I\nhad no such need of money, nor was the sum so big that I had any\ninclination to meddle with it or to get the money at the hazard it might\nbe attended with: so I seemed to go away, when the man who had opened\nthe door said he would take it up, but so that, if the right owner came\nfor it, he should be sure to have it. So he went in and fetched a pail\nof water, and set it down hard by the purse, then went again and fetched\nsome gunpowder, and cast a good deal of powder upon the purse, and then\nmade a train from that which he had thrown loose upon the purse (the\ntrain reached about two yards); after this he goes in a third time, and\nfetches out a pair of tongs red hot, and which he had prepared, I\nsuppose, on purpose; and first setting fire to the train of powder, that\nsinged the purse, and also smoked the air sufficiently. But he was not\ncontent with that, but he then takes up the purse with the tongs,\nholding it so long till the tongs burnt through the purse, and then he\nshook the money out into the pail of water: so he carried it in. The\nmoney, as I remember, was about thirteen shillings, and some smooth\ngroats[168] and brass farthings.[169]\nMuch about the same time, I walked out into the fields towards Bow; for\nI had a great mind to see how things were managed in the river and among\nthe ships; and, as I had some concern in shipping, I had a notion that\nit had been one of the best ways of securing one's self from the\ninfection to have retired into a ship. And, musing how to satisfy my\ncuriosity in that point, I turned away over the fields, from Bow to\nBromley, and down to Blackwall, to the stairs that are there for\nlanding, or taking water.\nHere I saw a poor man walking on the bank, or \"sea wall\" as they call\nit, by himself. I walked awhile also about, seeing the houses all shut\nup. At last I fell into some talk, at a distance, with this poor man.\nFirst I asked how people did thereabouts. \"Alas, sir!\" says he, \"almost\ndesolate, all dead or sick; here are very few families in this part, or\nin that village,\" pointing at Poplar, \"where half of them are not dead\nalready, and the rest sick.\" Then he, pointing to one house, \"They are\nall dead,\" said he, \"and the house stands open: nobody dares go into it.\nA poor thief,\" says he, \"ventured in to steal something; but he paid\ndear for his theft, for he was carried to the churchyard too, last\nnight.\" Then he pointed to several other houses. \"There,\" says he, \"they\nare all dead, the man and his wife and five children. There,\" says he,\n\"they are shut up; you see a watchman at the door:\" and so of other\nhouses. \"Why,\" says I, \"what do you here all alone?\"--\"Why,\" says he, \"I\nam a poor desolate man: it hath pleased God I am not yet visited, though\nmy family is, and one of my children dead.\"--\"How do you mean, then,\"\nsaid I, \"that you are not visited?\"--\"Why,\" says he, \"that is my house,\"\npointing to a very little low boarded house, \"and there my poor wife and\ntwo children live,\" said he, \"if they may be said to live; for my wife\nand one of the children are visited; but I do not come at them.\" And\nwith that word I saw the tears run very plentifully down his face; and\nso they did down mine too, I assure you.\n\"But,\" said I, \"why do you not come at them? How can you abandon your\nown flesh and blood?\"--\"O sir!\" says he, \"the Lord forbid! I do not\nabandon them, I work for them as much as I am able; and, blessed be the\nLord! I keep them from want.\" And with that I observed he lifted up his\neyes to heaven with a countenance that presently told me I had happened\non a man that was no hypocrite, but a serious, religious, good man; and\nhis ejaculation was an expression of thankfulness, that, in such a\ncondition as he was in, he should be able to say his family did not\nwant. \"Well,\" says I, \"honest man, that is a great mercy, as things go\nnow with the poor. But how do you live, then, and how are you kept from\nthe dreadful calamity that is now upon us all?\"--\"Why, sir,\" says he, \"I\nam a waterman, and there is my boat,\" says he, \"and the boat serves me\nfor a house; I work in it in the day, and I sleep in it in the night:\nand what I get I lay it down upon that stone,\" says he, showing me a\nbroad stone on the other side of the street, a good way from his house;\n\"and then,\" says he, \"I halloo and call to them till I make them hear,\nand they come and fetch it.\"\n\"Well, friend,\" says I, \"but how can you get money as a waterman? Does\nanybody go by water these times?\"--\"Yes, sir,\" says he, \"in the way I am\nemployed there does. Do you see there,\" says he, \"five ships lie at\nanchor?\" pointing down the river a good way below the town; \"and do you\nsee,\" says he, \"eight or ten ships lie at the chain there, and at anchor\nyonder?\" pointing above the town. \"All those ships have families on\nboard, of their merchants and owners, and such like, who have locked\nthemselves up and live on board, close shut in, for fear of the\ninfection; and I tend on them to fetch things for them, carry letters,\nand do what is absolutely necessary, that they may not be obliged to\ncome on shore. And every night I fasten my boat on board one of the\nship's boats, and there I sleep by myself, and, blessed be God! I am\npreserved hitherto.\"\n\"Well,\" said I, \"friend, but will they let you come on board after you\nhave been on shore here, when this has been such a terrible place, and\nso infected as it is?\"\n\"Why, as to that,\" said he, \"I very seldom go up the ship side, but\ndeliver what I bring to their boat, or lie by the side, and they hoist\nit on board: if I did, I think they are in no danger from me, for I\nnever go into any house on shore, or touch anybody, no, not of my own\nfamily; but I fetch provisions for them.\"\n\"Nay,\" says I, \"but that may be worse; for you must have those\nprovisions of somebody or other; and since all this part of the town is\nso infected, it is dangerous so much as to speak with anybody; for the\nvillage,\" said I, \"is, as it were, the beginning of London, though it be\nat some distance from it.\"\n\"That is true,\" added he; \"but you do not understand me right. I do not\nbuy provisions for them here. I row up to Greenwich, and buy fresh meat\nthere, and sometimes I row down the river to Woolwich,[170] and buy\nthere; then I go to single farmhouses on the Kentish side, where I am\nknown, and buy fowls and eggs and butter, and bring to the ships as they\ndirect me, sometimes one, sometimes the other. I seldom come on shore\nhere, and I came only now to call my wife, and hear how my little family\ndo, and give them a little money which I received last night.\"\n\"Poor man!\" said I. \"And how much hast thou gotten for them?\"\n\"I have gotten four shillings,\" said he, \"which is a great sum, as\nthings go now with poor men; but they have given me a bag of bread too,\nand a salt fish, and some flesh: so all helps out.\"\n\"Well,\" said I, \"and have you given it them yet?\"\n\"No,\" said he, \"but I have called; and my wife has answered that she\ncannot come out yet, but in half an hour she hopes to come, and I am\nwaiting for her. Poor woman!\" says he, \"she is brought sadly down; she\nhas had a swelling, and it is broke, and I hope she will recover, but I\nfear the child will die. But it is the Lord!\"--Here he stopped, and wept\nvery much.\n\"Well, honest friend,\" said I, \"thou hast a sure comforter, if thou hast\nbrought thyself to be resigned to the will of God: he is dealing with us\nall in judgment.\"\n\"O sir!\" says he, \"it is infinite mercy if any of us are spared; and who\nam I to repine!\"\n\"Say'st thou so?\" said I; \"and how much less is my faith than thine!\"\nAnd here my heart smote me, suggesting how much better this poor man's\nfoundation was, on which he stayed in the danger, than mine: that he had\nnowhere to fly; that he had a family to bind him to attendance, which I\nhad not; and mine was mere presumption, his a true dependence and a\ncourage resting on God; and yet that he used all possible caution for\nhis safety.\nI turned a little away from the man while these thoughts engaged me;\nfor, indeed, I could no more refrain from tears than he.\nAt length, after some further talk, the poor woman opened the door, and\ncalled, \"Robert, Robert!\" He answered, and bid her stay a few moments\nand he would come: so he ran down the common stairs to his boat, and\nfetched up a sack in which was the provisions he had brought from the\nships; and when he returned he hallooed again; then he went to the great\nstone which he showed me, and emptied the sack, and laid all out,\neverything by themselves, and then retired; and his wife came with a\nlittle boy to fetch them away; and he called, and said, such a captain\nhad sent such a thing, and such a captain such a thing, and at the end\nadds, \"God has sent it all: give thanks to him.\" When the poor woman had\ntaken up all, she was so weak she could not carry it at once in, though\nthe weight was not much, neither: so she left the biscuit, which was in\na little bag, and left a little boy to watch it till she came again.\n\"Well, but,\" says I to him, \"did you leave her the four shillings too,\nwhich you said was your week's pay?\"\n\"Yes, yes,\" says he; \"you shall hear her own it.\" So he called again,\n\"Rachel, Rachel!\" which it seems was her name, \"did you take up the\nmoney?\"--\"Yes,\" said she. \"How much was it?\" said he. \"Four shillings\nand a groat,\" said she. \"Well, well,\" says he, \"the Lord keep you all;\"\nand so he turned to go away.\nAs I could not refrain from contributing tears to this man's story, so\nneither could I refrain my charity for his assistance; so I called him.\n\"Hark thee, friend,\" said I, \"come hither, for I believe thou art in\nhealth, that I may venture thee:\" so I pulled out my hand, which was in\nmy pocket before. \"Here,\" says I, \"go and call thy Rachel once more, and\ngive her a little more comfort from me. God will never forsake a family\nthat trusts in him as thou dost.\" So I gave him four other shillings,\nand bid him go lay them on the stone, and call his wife.\nI have not words to express the poor man's thankfulness; neither could\nhe express it himself but by tears running down his face. He called his\nwife, and told her God had moved the heart of a stranger, upon hearing\ntheir condition, to give them all that money; and a great deal more such\nas that he said to her. The woman, too, made signs of the like\nthankfulness, as well to Heaven as to me, and joyfully picked it up; and\nI parted with no money all that year that I thought better bestowed.\nI then asked the poor man if the distemper had not reached to Greenwich.\nHe said it had not till about a fortnight before; but that then he\nfeared it had, but that it was only at that end of the town which lay\nsouth towards Deptford[171] Bridge; that he went only to a butcher's\nshop and a grocer's, where he generally bought such things as they sent\nhim for, but was very careful.\nI asked him then how it came to pass that those people who had so shut\nthemselves up in the ships had not laid in sufficient stores of all\nthings necessary. He said some of them had; but, on the other hand, some\ndid not come on board till they were frightened into it, and till it was\ntoo dangerous for them to go to the proper people to lay in quantities\nof things; and that he waited on two ships, which he showed me, that had\nlaid in little or nothing but biscuit bread[172] and ship beer, and that\nhe had bought everything else almost for them. I asked him if there were\nany more ships that had separated themselves as those had done. He told\nme yes; all the way up from the point, right against Greenwich, to\nwithin the shores of Limehouse and Redriff, all the ships that could\nhave room rid[173] two and two in the middle of the stream, and that\nsome of them had several families on board. I asked him if the distemper\nhad not reached them. He said he believed it had not, except two or\nthree ships, whose people had not been so watchful as to keep the seamen\nfrom going on shore as others had been; and he said it was a very fine\nsight to see how the ships lay up the Pool.[174]\nWhen he said he was going over to Greenwich as soon as the tide began\nto come in, I asked if he would let me go with him, and bring me back,\nfor that I had a great mind to see how the ships were ranged, as he had\ntold me. He told me if I would assure him, on the word of a Christian\nand of an honest man, that I had not the distemper, he would. I assured\nhim that I had not; that it had pleased God to preserve me; that I lived\nin Whitechapel, but was too impatient of being so long within doors, and\nthat I had ventured out so far for the refreshment of a little air, but\nthat none in my house had so much as been touched with it.\n\"Well, sir,\" says he, \"as your charity has been moved to pity me and my\npoor family, sure you cannot have so little pity left as to put yourself\ninto my boat if you were not sound in health, which would be nothing\nless than killing me, and ruining my whole family.\" The poor man\ntroubled me so much when he spoke of his family with such a sensible\nconcern and in such an affectionate manner, that I could not satisfy\nmyself at first to go at all. I told him I would lay aside my curiosity\nrather than make him uneasy, though I was sure, and very thankful for\nit, that I had no more distemper upon me than the freshest man in the\nworld. Well, he would not have me put it off neither, but, to let me see\nhow confident he was that I was just to him, he now importuned me to go:\nso, when the tide came up to his boat, I went in, and he carried me to\nGreenwich. While he bought the things which he had in charge to buy, I\nwalked up to the top of the hill, under which the town stands, and on\nthe east side of the town, to get a prospect of the river; but it was a\nsurprising sight to see the number of ships which lay in rows, two and\ntwo, and in some places two or three such lines in the breadth of the\nriver, and this not only up to the town, between the houses which we\ncall Ratcliff and Redriff, which they name the Pool, but even down the\nwhole river, as far as the head of Long Reach, which is as far as the\nhills give us leave to see it.\nI cannot guess at the number of ships, but I think there must have been\nseveral hundreds of sail; and I could not but applaud the contrivance,\nfor ten thousand people and more who attended ship affairs were\ncertainly sheltered here from the violence of the contagion, and lived\nvery safe and very easy.\nI returned to my own dwelling very well satisfied with my day's journey,\nand particularly with the poor man; also I rejoiced to see that such\nlittle sanctuaries were provided for so many families on board in a time\nof such desolation. I observed, also, that, as the violence of the\nplague had increased, so the ships which had families on board removed\nand went farther off, till, as I was told, some went quite away to sea,\nand put into such harbors and safe roads[175] on the north coast as they\ncould best come at.\nBut it was also true, that all the people who thus left the land, and\nlived on board the ships, were not entirely safe from the infection; for\nmany died, and were thrown overboard into the river, some in coffins,\nand some, as I heard, without coffins, whose bodies were seen sometimes\nto drive up and down with the tide in the river.\nBut I believe I may venture to say, that, in those ships which were thus\ninfected, it either happened where the people had recourse to them too\nlate, and did not fly to the ship till they had staid too long on shore,\nand had the distemper upon them, though perhaps they might not perceive\nit (and so the distemper did not come to them on board the ships, but\nthey really carried it with them), or it was in these ships where the\npoor waterman said they had not had time to furnish themselves with\nprovisions, but were obliged to send often on shore to buy what they had\noccasion for, or suffered boats to come to them from the shore; and so\nthe distemper was brought insensibly among them.\nAnd here I cannot but take notice that the strange temper of the people\nof London at that time contributed extremely to their own destruction.\nThe plague began, as I have observed, at the other end of the town\n(namely, in Longacre, Drury Lane, etc.), and came on towards the city\nvery gradually and slowly. It was felt at first in December, then again\nin February, then again in April (and always but a very little at a\ntime), then it stopped till May; and even the last week in May there\nwere but seventeen in all that end of the town. And all this while, even\nso long as till there died about three thousand a week, yet had the\npeople in Redriff and in Wapping and Ratcliff, on both sides the river,\nand almost all Southwark side, a mighty fancy that they should not be\nvisited, or at least that it would not be so violent among them. Some\npeople fancied the smell of the pitch and tar, and such other things, as\noil and resin and brimstone (which is much used by all trades relating\nto shipping), would preserve them. Others argued it,[176] because\nit[177] was in its extremest violence in Westminster and the parish of\nSt. Giles's and St. Andrew's, etc., and began to abate again before it\ncame among them, which was true, indeed, in part. For example:--\n    Aug. 8 to Aug. 15,  St. Giles-in-the-Fields      242\n    Aug. 15 to Aug. 22, St. Giles-in-the-Fields      175\nN.B.[179]--That it was observed that the numbers mentioned in Stepney\nParish at that time were generally all on that side where Stepney\nParish joined to Shoreditch, which we now call Spittlefields, where\nthe parish of Stepney comes up to the very wall of Shoreditch\nchurchyard. And the plague at this time was abated at St.\nGiles-in-the-Fields, and raged most violently in Cripplegate,\nBishopsgate, and Shoreditch Parishes, but there were not ten people a\nweek that died of it in all that part of Stepney Parish which takes in\nLimehouse, Ratcliff Highway, and which are now the parishes of\nShadwell and Wapping, even to St. Katherine's-by-the-Tower, till after\nthe whole month of August was expired; but they paid for it\nafterwards, as I shall observe by and by.\nThis, I say, made the people of Redriff and Wapping, Ratcliff and\nLimehouse, so secure, and flatter themselves so much with the plague's\ngoing off without reaching them, that they took no care either to fly\ninto the country or shut themselves up: nay, so far were they from\nstirring, that they rather received their friends and relations from the\ncity into their houses; and several from other places really took\nsanctuary in that part of the town as a place of safety, and as a place\nwhich they thought God would pass over, and not visit as the rest was\nvisited.\nAnd this was the reason, that, when it came upon them, they were more\nsurprised, more unprovided, and more at a loss what to do, than they\nwere in other places; for when it came among them really and with\nviolence, as it did indeed in September and October, there was then no\nstirring out into the country. Nobody would suffer a stranger to come\nnear them, no, nor near the towns where they dwelt; and, as I have been\ntold, several that wandered into the country on the Surrey side were\nfound starved to death in the woods and commons; that country being more\nopen and more woody than any other part so near London, especially about\nNorwood and the parishes of Camberwell, Dulwich,[180] and Lusum, where\nit seems nobody durst[181] relieve the poor distressed people for fear\nof the infection.\nThis notion having, as I said, prevailed with the people in that part of\nthe town, was in part the occasion, as I said before, that they had\nrecourse to ships for their retreat; and where they did this early and\nwith prudence, furnishing themselves so with provisions so that they had\nno need to go on shore for supplies, or suffer boats to come on board to\nbring them,--I say, where they did so, they had certainly the safest\nretreat of any people whatsoever. But the distress was such, that people\nran on board in their fright without bread to eat, and some into ships\nthat had no men on board to remove them farther off, or to take the boat\nand go down the river to buy provisions, where it may be done safely;\nand these often suffered, and were infected on board as much as on\nshore.\nAs the richer sort got into ships, so the lower rank got into hoys,[182]\nsmacks, lighters, and fishing boats; and many, especially watermen, lay\nin their boats: but those made sad work of it, especially the latter;\nfor going about for provision, and perhaps to get their subsistence, the\ninfection got in among them, and made a fearful havoc. Many of the\nwatermen died alone in their wherries as they rid at their roads, as\nwell above bridge[183] as below, and were not found sometimes till they\nwere not in condition for anybody to touch or come near them.\nIndeed, the distress of the people at this seafaring end of the town was\nvery deplorable, and deserved the greatest commiseration. But, alas!\nthis was a time when every one's private safety lay so near them that\nthey had no room to pity the distresses of others; for every one had\ndeath, as it were, at his door, and many even in their families, and\nknew not what to do, or whither to fly.\nThis, I say, took away all compassion. Self-preservation, indeed,\nappeared here to be the first law: for the children ran away from their\nparents as they languished in the utmost distress; and in some places,\nthough not so frequent as the other, parents did the like to their\nchildren. Nay, some dreadful examples there were, and particularly two\nin one week, of distressed mothers, raving and distracted, killing\ntheir own children; one whereof was not far off from where I dwelt, the\npoor lunatic creature not living herself long enough to be sensible of\nthe sin of what she had done, much less to be punished for it.\nIt is not, indeed, to be wondered at; for the danger of immediate death\nto ourselves took away all bowels of love, all concern for one another.\nI speak in general: for there were many instances of immovable\naffection, pity, and duty in many, and some that came to my knowledge,\nthat is to say, by hearsay; for I shall not take upon me to vouch the\ntruth of the particulars.\nI could tell here dismal stories of living infants being found sucking\nthe breasts of their mothers or nurses after they have been dead of the\nplague; of a mother in the parish where I lived, who, having a child\nthat was not well, sent for an apothecary to view the child, and when he\ncame, as the relation goes, was giving the child suck at her breast, and\nto all appearance was herself very well; but, when the apothecary came\nclose to her, he saw the tokens upon that breast with which she was\nsuckling the child. He was surprised enough, to be sure; but, not\nwilling to fright the poor woman too much, he desired she would give the\nchild into his hand: so he takes the child, and, going to a cradle in\nthe room, lays it in, and, opening its clothes, found the tokens upon\nthe child too; and both died before he could get home to send a\npreventive medicine to the father of the child, to whom he had told\ntheir condition. Whether the child infected the nurse mother, or the\nmother the child, was not certain, but the last most likely.\nLikewise of a child brought home to the parents from a nurse that had\ndied of the plague; yet the tender mother would not refuse to take in\nher child, and laid it in her bosom, by which she was infected and died,\nwith the child in her arms dead also.\nIt would make the hardest heart move at the instances that were\nfrequently found of tender mothers tending and watching with their dear\nchildren, and even dying before them, and sometimes taking the distemper\nfrom them, and dying, when the child for whom the affectionate heart\nhad been sacrificed has got over it and escaped.\nI have heard also of some who, on the death of their relations, have\ngrown stupid with the insupportable sorrow; and of one in particular,\nwho was so absolutely overcome with the pressure upon his spirits, that\nby degrees his head sunk into his body so between his shoulders, that\nthe crown of his head was very little seen above the bone of his\nshoulders; and by degrees, losing both voice and sense, his face,\nlooking forward, lay against his collar bone, and could not be kept up\nany otherwise, unless held up by the hands of other people. And the poor\nman never came to himself again, but languished near a year in that\ncondition, and died. Nor was he ever once seen to lift up his eyes, or\nto look upon any particular object.[184]\nI cannot undertake to give any other than a summary of such passages as\nthese, because it was not possible to come at the particulars where\nsometimes the whole families where such things happened were carried off\nby the distemper; but there were innumerable cases of this kind which\npresented[185] to the eye and the ear, even in passing along the\nstreets, as I have hinted above. Nor is it easy to give any story of\nthis or that family, which there was not divers parallel stories to be\nmet with of the same kind.\nBut as I am now talking of the time when the plague raged at the\neasternmost parts of the town; how for a long time the people of those\nparts had flattered themselves that they should escape, and how they\nwere surprised when it came upon them as it did (for indeed it came upon\nthem like an armed man when it did come),--I say this brings me back to\nthe three poor men who wandered from Wapping, not knowing whither to go\nor what to do, and whom I mentioned before,--one a biscuit baker, one a\nsailmaker, and the other a joiner, all of Wapping or thereabouts.\nThe sleepiness and security of that part, as I have observed, was such,\nthat they not only did not shift for themselves as others did, but they\nboasted of being safe, and of safety being with them. And many people\nfled out of the city, and out of the infected suburbs, to Wapping,\nRatcliff, Limehouse, Poplar, and such places, as to places of security.\nAnd it is not at all unlikely that their doing this helped to bring the\nplague that way faster than it might otherwise have come: for though I\nam much for people's flying away, and emptying such a town as this upon\nthe first appearance of a like visitation, and that all people who have\nany possible retreat should make use of it in time, and begone, yet I\nmust say, when all that will fly are gone, those that are left, and must\nstand it, should stand stock-still where they are, and not shift from\none end of the town or one part of the town to the other; for that is\nthe bane and mischief of the whole, and they carry the plague from house\nto house in their very clothes.\nWherefore were we ordered to kill all the dogs and cats, but because, as\nthey were domestic animals, and are apt to run from house to house and\nfrom street to street, so they are capable of carrying the effluvia or\ninfectious steams of bodies infected, even in their furs and hair? And\ntherefore it was, that, in the beginning of the infection, an order was\npublished by the lord mayor and by the magistrates, according to the\nadvice of the physicians, that all the dogs and cats should be\nimmediately killed; and an officer was appointed for the execution.\nIt is incredible, if their account is to be depended upon, what a\nprodigious number of those creatures were destroyed. I think they talked\nof forty thousand dogs and five times as many cats; few houses being\nwithout a cat, some having several, sometimes five or six in a house.\nAll possible endeavors were used also to destroy the mice and rats,\nespecially the latter, by laying rats-bane and other poisons for them;\nand a prodigious multitude of them were also destroyed.\nI often reflected upon the unprovided condition that the whole body of\nthe people were in at the first coming of this calamity upon them; and\nhow it was for want of timely entering into measures and managements, as\nwell public as private, that all the confusions that followed were\nbrought upon us, and that such a prodigious number of people sunk in\nthat disaster which, if proper steps had been taken, might, Providence\nconcurring, have been avoided, and which, if posterity think fit, they\nmay take a caution and warning from. But I shall come to this part\nagain.\nI come back to my three men. Their story has a moral in every part of\nit; and their whole conduct, and that of some whom they joined with, is\na pattern for all poor men to follow, or women either, if ever such a\ntime comes again: and if there was no other end in recording it, I think\nthis a very just one, whether my account be exactly according to fact or\nno.\nTwo of them were said to be brothers, the one an old soldier, but now a\nbiscuit baker; the other a lame sailor, but now a sailmaker; the third a\njoiner. Says John the biscuit baker, one day, to Thomas, his brother,\nthe sailmaker, \"Brother Tom, what will become of us? The plague grows\nhot in the city, and increases this way. What shall we do?\"\n\"Truly,\" says Thomas, \"I am at a great loss what to do; for I find if it\ncomes down into Wapping I shall be turned out of my lodging.\" And thus\nthey began to talk of it beforehand.\n     _John._ Turned out of your lodging, Tom? If you are, I don't know\n     who will take you in; for people are so afraid of one another now,\n     there is no getting a lodging anywhere.\n     _Tho._ Why, the people where I lodge are good civil people, and\n     have kindness for me too; but they say I go abroad every day to my\n     work, and it will be dangerous; and they talk of locking themselves\n     up, and letting nobody come near them.\n     _John._ Why, they are in the right, to be sure, if they resolve to\n     venture staying in town.\n     _Tho._ Nay, I might even resolve to stay within doors too; for,\n     except a suit of sails that my master has in hand, and which I am\n     just finishing, I am like to get no more work a great while.\n     There's no trade stirs now, workmen and servants are turned off\n     everywhere; so that I might be glad to be locked up too. But I do\n     not see that they will be willing to consent to that any more than\n     to the other.\n     _John._ Why, what will you do then, brother? And what shall I do?\n     for I am almost as bad as you. The people where I lodge are all\n     gone into the country but a maid, and she is to go next week, and\n     to shut the house quite up; so that I shall be turned adrift to the\n     wide world before you: and I am resolved to go away too, if I knew\n     but where to go.\n     _Tho._ We were both distracted we did not go away at first, when we\n     might ha' traveled anywhere: there is no stirring now. We shall be\n     starved if we pretend to go out of town. They won't let us have\n     victuals, no, not for our money, nor let us come into the towns,\n     much less into their houses.\n     _John._ And, that which is almost as bad, I have but little money\n     to help myself with, neither.\n     _Tho._ As to that, we might make shift. I have a little, though not\n     much; but I tell you there is no stirring on the road. I know a\n     couple of poor honest men in our street have attempted to travel;\n     and at Barnet,[186] or Whetstone, or thereabout, the people offered\n     to fire at them if they pretended to go forward: so they are come\n     back again quite discouraged.\n     _John._ I would have ventured their fire, if I had been there. If I\n     had been denied food for my money, they should have seen me take it\n     before their faces; and, if I had tendered money for it, they could\n     not have taken any course with me by the law.\n     _Tho._ You talk your old soldier's language, as if you were in the\n     Low Countries[187] now; but this is a serious thing. The people\n     have good reason to keep anybody off that they are not satisfied\n     are sound at such a time as this, and we must not plunder them.\n     _John._ No, brother, you mistake the case, and mistake me too: I\n     would plunder nobody. But for any town upon the road to deny me\n     leave to pass through the town in the open highway, and deny me\n     provisions for my money, is to say the town has a right to starve\n     me to death; which cannot be true.\n     _Tho._ But they do not deny you liberty to go back again from\n     whence you came, and therefore they do not starve you.\n     _John._ But the next town behind me will, by the same rule, deny me\n     leave to go back; and so they do starve me between them. Besides,\n     there is no law to prohibit my traveling wherever I will on the\n     road.\n     _Tho._ But there will be so much difficulty in disputing with them\n     at every town on the road, that it is not for poor men to do it, or\n     undertake it, at such a time as this is especially.\n     _John._ Why, brother, our condition, at this rate, is worse than\n     anybody's else; for we can neither go away nor stay here. I am of\n     the same mind with the lepers of Samaria.[188] If we stay here, we\n     are sure to die. I mean especially as you and I are situated,\n     without a dwelling house of our own, and without lodging in\n     anybody's else. There is no lying in the street at such a time as\n     this; we had as good[189] go into the dead cart at once. Therefore,\n     I say, if we stay here, we are sure to die; and if we go away, we\n     can but die. I am resolved to be gone.\n     _Tho._ You will go away. Whither will you go, and what can you do?\n     I would as willingly go away as you, if I knew whither; but we have\n     no acquaintance, no friends. Here we were born, and here we must\n     _John._ Look you, Tom, the whole kingdom is my native country as\n     well as this town. You may as well say I must not go out of my\n     house if it is on fire, as that I must not go out of the town I was\n     born in when it is infected with the plague. I was born in England,\n     and have a right to live in it if I can.\n     _Tho._ But you know every vagrant person may, by the laws of\n     England, be taken up, and passed back to their last legal\n     settlement.\n     _John._ But how shall they make me vagrant? I desire only to\n     travel on upon my lawful occasions.\n     _Tho._ What lawful occasions can we pretend to travel, or rather\n     wander, upon? They will not be put off with words.\n     _John._ Is not flying to save our lives a lawful occasion? And do\n     they not all know that the fact is true? We cannot be said to\n     dissemble.\n     _Tho._ But, suppose they let us pass, whither shall we go?\n     _John._ Anywhere to save our lives: it is time enough to consider\n     that when we are got out of this town. If I am once out of this\n     dreadful place, I care not where I go.\n     _Tho._ We shall be driven to great extremities. I know not what to\n     think of it.\n     _John._ Well, Tom, consider of it a little.\nThis was about the beginning of July; and though the plague was come\nforward in the west and north parts of the town, yet all Wapping, as I\nhave observed before, and Redriff and Ratcliff, and Limehouse and\nPoplar, in short, Deptford and Greenwich, both sides of the river from\nthe Hermitage, and from over against it, quite down to Blackwall, was\nentirely free. There had not one person died of the plague in all\nStepney Parish, and not one on the south side of Whitechapel Road, no,\nnot in any parish; and yet the weekly bill was that very week risen up\nIt was a fortnight after this before the two brothers met again, and\nthen the case was a little altered, and the plague was exceedingly\nadvanced, and the number greatly increased. The bill was up at 2,785,\nand prodigiously increasing; though still both sides of the river, as\nbelow, kept pretty well. But some began to die in Redriff, and about\nfive or six in Ratcliff Highway, when the sailmaker came to his brother\nJohn, express,[190] and in some fright; for he was absolutely warned out\nof his lodging, and had only a week to provide himself. His brother John\nwas in as bad a case, for he was quite out, and had only[191] begged\nleave of his master, the biscuit baker, to lodge in an outhouse\nbelonging to his workhouse, where he only lay upon straw, with some\nbiscuit sacks, or \"bread sacks,\" as they called them, laid upon it, and\nsome of the same sacks to cover him.\nHere they resolved, seeing all employment being at an end, and no work\nor wages to be had, they would make the best of their way to get out of\nthe reach of the dreadful infection, and, being as good husbands as they\ncould, would endeavor to live upon what they had as long as it would\nlast, and then work for more, if they could get work anywhere of any\nkind, let it be what it would.\nWhile they were considering to put this resolution in practice in the\nbest manner they could, the third man, who was acquainted very well with\nthe sailmaker, came to know of the design, and got leave to be one of\nthe number; and thus they prepared to set out.\nIt happened that they had not an equal share of money; but as the\nsailmaker, who had the best stock, was, besides his being lame, the most\nunfit to expect to get anything by working in the country, so he was\ncontent that what money they had should all go into one public stock, on\ncondition that whatever any one of them could gain more than another, it\nshould, without any grudging, be all added to the public stock.\nThey resolved to load themselves with as little baggage as possible,\nbecause they resolved at first to travel on foot, and to go a great way,\nthat they might, if possible, be effectually safe. And a great many\nconsultations they had with themselves before they could agree about\nwhat way they should travel; which they were so far from adjusting,\nthat, even to the morning they set out, they were not resolved on it.\nAt last the seaman put in a hint that determined it. \"First,\" says he,\n\"the weather is very hot; and therefore I am for traveling north, that\nwe may not have the sun upon our faces, and beating upon our breasts,\nwhich will heat and suffocate us; and I have been told,\" says he, \"that\nit is not good to overheat our blood at a time when, for aught we know,\nthe infection may be in the very air. In the next place,\" says he, \"I am\nfor going the way that may be contrary to the wind as it may blow when\nwe set out, that we may not have the wind blow the air of the city on\nour backs as we go.\" These two cautions were approved of, if it could be\nbrought so to hit that the wind might not be in the south when they set\nout to go north.\nJohn the baker, who had been a soldier, then put in his opinion.\n\"First,\" says he, \"we none of us expect to get any lodging on the road,\nand it will be a little too hard to lie just in the open air. Though it\nmay be warm weather, yet it may be wet and damp, and we have a double\nreason to take care of our healths at such a time as this; and\ntherefore,\" says he, \"you, brother Tom, that are a sailmaker, might\neasily make us a little tent; and I will undertake to set it up every\nnight and take it down, and a fig for all the inns in England. If we\nhave a good tent over our heads, we shall do well enough.\"\nThe joiner opposed this, and told them, let them leave that to him: he\nwould undertake to build them a house every night with his hatchet and\nmallet, though he had no other tools, which should be fully to their\nsatisfaction, and as good as a tent.\nThe soldier and the joiner disputed that point some time; but at last\nthe soldier carried it for a tent: the only objection against it was,\nthat it must be carried with them, and that would increase their baggage\ntoo much, the weather being hot. But the sailmaker had a piece of good\nhap[192] fall in, which made that easy; for his master who[193] he\nworked for, having a ropewalk, as well as sailmaking trade, had a little\npoor horse that he made no use of then, and, being willing to assist the\nthree honest men, he gave them the horse for the carrying their baggage;\nalso, for a small matter of three days' work that his man did for him\nbefore he went, he let him have an old topgallant sail[194] that was\nworn out, but was sufficient, and more than enough, to make a very good\ntent. The soldier showed how to shape it, and they soon, by his\ndirection, made their tent, and fitted it with poles or staves for the\npurpose: and thus they were furnished for their journey; viz., three\nmen, one tent, one horse, one gun for the soldier (who would not go\nwithout arms, for now he said he was no more a biscuit baker, but a\ntrooper). The joiner had a small bag of tools, such as might be useful\nif he should get any work abroad, as well for their subsistence as his\nown. What money they had they brought all into one public stock, and\nthus they began their journey. It seems that in the morning when they\nset out, the wind blew, as the sailor said, by his pocket compass, at\nN.W. by W., so they directed, or rather resolved to direct, their course\nN.W.\nBut then a difficulty came in their way, that as they set out from the\nhither end of Wapping, near the Hermitage, and that the plague was now\nvery violent, especially on the north side of the city, as in Shoreditch\nand Cripplegate Parish, they did not think it safe for them to go near\nthose parts: so they went away east, through Ratcliff Highway, as far as\nRatcliff Cross, and leaving Stepney church still on their left hand,\nbeing afraid to come up from Ratcliff Cross to Mile End, because they\nmust come just by the churchyard, and because the wind, that seemed to\nblow more from the west, blowed directly from the side of the city where\nthe plague was hottest. So, I say, leaving Stepney, they fetched a long\ncompass,[195] and, going to Poplar and Bromley, came into the great road\njust at Bow.\nHere the watch placed upon Bow Bridge would have questioned them; but\nthey, crossing the road into a narrow way that turns out of the higher\nend of the town of Bow to Oldford, avoided any inquiry there, and\ntraveled on to Oldford. The constables everywhere were upon their guard,\nnot so much, it seems, to stop people passing by, as to stop them from\ntaking up their abode in their towns; and, withal, because of a report\nthat was newly raised at that time, and that indeed was not very\nimprobable, viz., that the poor people in London, being distressed and\nstarved for want of work, and by that means for want of bread, were up\nin arms, and had raised a tumult, and that they would come out to all\nthe towns round to plunder for bread. This, I say, was only a rumor, and\nit was very well it was no more; but it was not so far off from being a\nreality as it has been thought, for in a few weeks more the poor people\nbecame so desperate by the calamity they suffered, that they were with\ngreat difficulty kept from running out into the fields and towns, and\ntearing all in pieces wherever they came. And, as I have observed\nbefore, nothing hindered them but that the plague raged so violently,\nand fell in upon them so furiously, that they rather went to the grave\nby thousands than into the fields in mobs by thousands; for in the parts\nabout the parishes of St. Sepulchre's, Clerkenwell, Cripplegate,\nBishopsgate, and Shoreditch, which were the places where the mob began\nto threaten, the distemper came on so furiously, that there died in\nthose few parishes, even then, before the plague was come to its height,\nno less than 5,361 people in the first three weeks in August, when at\nthe same time the parts about Wapping, Ratcliff, and Rotherhithe were,\nas before described, hardly touched, or but very lightly; so that in a\nword, though, as I said before, the good management of the lord mayor\nand justices did much to prevent the rage and desperation of the people\nfrom breaking out in rabbles and tumults, and, in short, from the poor\nplundering the rich,--I say, though they did much, the dead cart did\nmore: for as I have said, that, in five parishes only, there died above\nfive thousand in twenty days, so there might be probably three times\nthat number sick all that time; for some recovered, and great numbers\nfell sick every day, and died afterwards. Besides, I must still be\nallowed to say, that, if the bills of mortality said five thousand, I\nalways believed it was twice as many in reality, there being no room to\nbelieve that the account they gave was right, or that indeed they[196]\nwere, among such confusions as I saw them in, in any condition to keep\nan exact account.\nBut to return to my travelers. Here they were only examined, and, as\nthey seemed rather coming from the country than from the city, they\nfound the people easier with them; that they talked to them, let them\ncome into a public house where the constable and his warders were, and\ngave them drink and some victuals, which greatly refreshed and\nencouraged them. And here it came into their heads to say, when they\nshould be inquired of afterwards, not that they came from London, but\nthat they came out of Essex.\nTo forward this little fraud, they obtained so much favor of the\nconstable at Oldford as to give them a certificate of their passing from\nEssex through that village, and that they had not been at London; which,\nthough false in the common acceptation of London in the country, yet was\nliterally true, Wapping or Ratcliff being no part either of the city or\nliberty.\nThis certificate, directed to the next constable, that was at Homerton,\none of the hamlets of the parish of Hackney, was so serviceable to them,\nthat it procured them, not a free passage there only, but a full\ncertificate of health from a justice of the peace, who, upon the\nconstable's application, granted it without much difficulty. And thus\nthey passed through the long divided town of Hackney (for it lay then in\nseveral separated hamlets), and traveled on till they came into the\ngreat north road, on the top of Stamford Hill.\nBy this time they began to weary; and so, in the back road from Hackney,\na little before it opened into the said great road, they resolved to set\nup their tent, and encamp for the first night; which they did\naccordingly, with this addition: that, finding a barn, or a building\nlike a barn, and first searching as well as they could to be sure there\nwas nobody in it, they set up their tent with the head of it against the\nbarn. This they did also because the wind blew that night very high, and\nthey were but young at such a way of lodging, as well as at the managing\ntheir tent.\nHere they went to sleep; but the joiner, a grave and sober man, and not\npleased with their lying at this loose rate the first night, could not\nsleep, and resolved, after trying it to no purpose, that he would get\nout, and, taking the gun in his hand, stand sentinel, and guard his\ncompanions. So, with the gun in his hand, he walked to and again before\nthe barn; for that stood in the field near the road, but within the\nhedge. He had not been long upon the scout, but he heard a noise of\npeople coming on as if it had been a great number; and they came on, as\nhe thought, directly towards the barn. He did not presently awake his\ncompanions, but in a few minutes more, their noise growing louder and\nlouder, the biscuit baker called to him and asked him what was the\nmatter, and quickly started out too. The other being the lame sailmaker,\nand most weary, lay still in the tent.\nAs they expected, so the people whom they had heard came on directly to\nthe barn, when one of our travelers challenged, like soldiers upon the\nguard, with, \"Who comes there?\" The people did not answer immediately;\nbut one of them speaking to another that was behind them, \"Alas, alas!\nwe are all disappointed,\" says he; \"here are some people before us; the\nbarn is taken up.\"\nThey all stopped upon that, as under some surprise; and it seems there\nwere about thirteen of them in all, and some women among them. They\nconsulted together what they should do; and by their discourse, our\ntravelers soon found they were poor distressed people too, like\nthemselves, seeking shelter and safety; and besides, our travelers had\nno need to be afraid of their coming up to disturb them, for as soon as\nthey heard the words, \"Who comes there?\" they could hear the women say,\nas if frighted, \"Do not go near them; how do you know but they may have\nthe plague?\" And when one of the men said, \"Let us but speak to them,\"\nthe women said, \"No, don't, by any means; we have escaped thus far by\nthe goodness of God; do not let us run into danger now, we beseech you.\"\nOur travelers found by this that they were a good sober sort of people,\nand flying for their lives as they were; and as they were encouraged by\nit, so John said to the joiner, his comrade, \"Let us encourage them\ntoo, as much as we can.\" So he called to them. \"Hark ye, good people,\"\nsays the joiner; \"we find by your talk that you are flying from the same\ndreadful enemy as we are. Do not be afraid of us; we are only three poor\nmen of us. If you are free from the distemper, you shall not be hurt by\nus. We are not in the barn, but in a little tent here on the outside,\nand we will remove for you; we can set up our tent again immediately\nanywhere else.\" And upon this a parley began between the joiner, whose\nname was Richard, and one of their men, whose said name was Ford.\n     _Ford._ And do you assure us that you are all sound men?\n     _Rich._ Nay, we are concerned to tell you of it, that you may not\n     be uneasy, or think yourselves in danger; but you see we do not\n     desire you should put yourselves into any danger, and therefore I\n     tell you that we have not made use of the barn; so we will remove\n     from it, that you may be safe and we also.\n     _Ford._ That is very kind and charitable; but if we have reason to\n     be satisfied that you are sound, and free from the visitation, why\n     should we make you remove, now you are settled in your lodging,\n     and, it may be, are laid down to rest? We will go into the barn, if\n     you please, to rest ourselves awhile, and we need not disturb you.\n     _Rich._ Well, but you are more than we are. I hope you will assure\n     us that you are all of you sound too, for the danger is as great\n     from you to us as from us to you.\n     _Ford._ Blessed be God that some do escape, though it be but few!\n     What may be our portion still, we know not, but hitherto we are\n     preserved.\n     _Rich._ What part of the town do you come from? Was the plague come\n     to the places where you lived?\n     _Ford._ Ay, ay, in a most frightful and terrible manner, or else we\n     had not fled away as we do; but we believe there will be very few\n     left alive behind us.\n     _Rich._ What part do you come from?\n     _Ford._ We are most of us from Cripplegate Parish; only two or\n     three of Clerkenwell Parish, but on the hither side.\n     _Rich._ How, then, was it that you came away no sooner?\n     _Ford._ We have been away some time, and kept together as well as\n     we could at the hither end of Islington, where we got leave to lie\n     in an old uninhabited house, and had some bedding and conveniences\n     of our own, that we brought with us; but the plague is come up into\n     Islington too, and a house next door to our poor dwelling was\n     infected and shut up, and we are come away in a fright.\n     _Rich._ And what way are you going?\n     _Ford._ As our lot shall cast us, we know not whither; but God will\n     guide those that look up to him.\nThey parleyed no further at that time, but came all up to the barn, and\nwith some difficulty got into it. There was nothing but hay in the barn,\nbut it was almost full of that, and they accommodated themselves as well\nas they could, and went to rest; but our travelers observed that before\nthey went to sleep, an ancient man, who, it seems, was the father of one\nof the women, went to prayer with all the company, recommending\nthemselves to the blessing and protection of Providence before they went\nto sleep.\nIt was soon day at that time of the year; and as Richard the joiner had\nkept guard the first part of the night, so John the soldier relieved\nhim, and he had the post in the morning. And they began to be acquainted\nwith one another. It seems, when they left Islington, they intended to\nhave gone north away to Highgate, but were stopped at Holloway, and\nthere they would not let them pass; so they crossed over the fields and\nhills to the eastward, and came out at the Boarded River, and so,\navoiding the towns, they left Hornsey on the left hand, and Newington on\nthe right hand, and came into the great road about Stamford Hill on that\nside, as the three travelers had done on the other side. And now they\nhad thoughts of going over the river in the marshes, and make forwards\nto Epping Forest, where they hoped they should get leave to rest. It\nseems they were not poor, at least not so poor as to be in want: at\nleast, they had enough to subsist them moderately for two or three\nmonths, when, as they said, they were in hopes the cold weather would\ncheck the infection, or at least the violence of it would have spent\nitself, and would abate, if it were only for want of people left alive\nto be infected.\nThis was much the fate of our three travelers, only that they seemed to\nbe the better furnished for traveling, and had it in their view to go\nfarther off; for, as to the first, they did not propose to go farther\nthan one day's journey, that so they might have intelligence every two\nor three days how things were at London.\nBut here our travelers found themselves under an unexpected\ninconvenience, namely, that of their horse; for, by means of the horse\nto carry their baggage, they were obliged to keep in the road, whereas\nthe people of this other band went over the fields or roads, path or no\npath, way or no way, as they pleased. Neither had they any occasion to\npass through any town, or come near any town, other than to buy such\nthings as they wanted for their necessary subsistence; and in that,\nindeed, they were put to much difficulty, of which in its place.\nBut our three travelers were obliged to keep the road, or else they must\ncommit spoil, and do the country a great deal of damage in breaking down\nfences and gates to go over inclosed fields, which they were loath to do\nif they could help it.\nOur three travelers, however, had a great mind to join themselves to\nthis company, and take their lot with them; and, after some discourse,\nthey laid aside their first design, which looked northward, and resolved\nto follow the other into Essex. So in the morning they took up their\ntent and loaded their horse, and away they traveled all together.\nThey had some difficulty in passing the ferry at the riverside, the\nferryman being afraid of them; but, after some parley at a distance, the\nferryman was content to bring his boat to a place distant from the\nusual ferry, and leave it there for them to take it. So, putting\nthemselves over, he directed them to leave the boat, and he, having\nanother boat, said he would fetch it again; which it seems, however, he\ndid not do for above eight days.\nHere, giving the ferryman money beforehand, they had a supply of\nvictuals and drink, which he brought and left in the boat for them, but\nnot without, as I said, having received the money beforehand. But now\nour travelers were at a great loss and difficulty how to get the horse\nover, the boat being small, and not fit for it, and at last could not do\nit without unloading the baggage and making him swim over.\nFrom the river they traveled towards the forest; but when they came to\nWalthamstow, the people of that town denied[197] to admit them, as was\nthe case everywhere; the constables and their watchmen kept them off at\na distance, and parleyed with them. They gave the same account of\nthemselves as before; but these gave no credit to what they said, giving\nit for a reason, that two or three companies had already come that way\nand made the like pretenses, but that they had given several people the\ndistemper in the towns where they had passed, and had been afterwards so\nhardly used by the country, though with justice too, as they had\ndeserved, that about Brentwood[198] or that way, several of them\nperished in the fields, whether of the plague, or of mere want and\ndistress, they could not tell.\nThis was a good reason, indeed, why the people of Walthamstow should be\nvery cautious, and why they should resolve not to entertain anybody that\nthey were not well satisfied of; but as Richard the joiner, and one of\nthe other men who parleyed with them, told them, it was no reason why\nthey should block up the roads and refuse to let the people pass through\nthe town, and who asked nothing of them but to go through the street;\nthat, if their people were afraid of them, they might go into their\nhouses and shut their doors: they would neither show them civility nor\nincivility, but go on about their business.\nThe constables and attendants, not to be persuaded by reason, continued\nobstinate, and would hearken to nothing: so the two men that talked with\nthem went back to their fellows to consult what was to be done. It was\nvery discouraging in the whole, and they knew not what to do for a good\nwhile; but at last John, the soldier and biscuit baker, considering\nawhile, \"Come,\" says he, \"leave the rest of the parley to me.\" He had\nnot appeared yet: so he sets the joiner, Richard, to work to cut some\npoles out of the trees, and shape them as like guns as he could; and in\na little time he had five or six fair muskets, which at a distance would\nnot be known; and about the part where the lock of a gun is, he caused\nthem to wrap cloth and rags, such as they had, as soldiers do in wet\nweather to preserve the locks of their pieces from rust; the rest was\ndiscolored with clay or mud, such as they could get; and all this while\nthe rest of them sat under the trees by his direction, in two or three\nbodies, where they made fires at a good distance from one another.\nWhile this was doing, he advanced himself, and two or three with him,\nand set up their tent in the lane, within sight of the barrier which the\ntownsmen had made, and set a sentinel just by it with the real gun, the\nonly one they had, and who[199] walked to and fro with the gun on his\nshoulder, so as that the people of the town might see them; also he tied\nthe horse to a gate in the hedge just by, and got some dry sticks\ntogether and kindled a fire on the other side of the tent, so that the\npeople of the town could see the fire and the smoke, but could not see\nwhat they were doing at it.\nAfter the country people had looked upon them very earnestly a great\nwhile, and by all that they could see could not but suppose that they\nwere a great many in company, they began to be uneasy, not for their\ngoing away, but for staying where they were; and above all, perceiving\nthey had horses and arms (for they had seen one horse and one gun at the\ntent, and they had seen others of them walk about the field on the\ninside of the hedge by the side of the lane with their muskets, as they\ntook them to be, shouldered),--I say, upon such a sight as this, you may\nbe assured they were alarmed and terribly frightened; and it seems they\nwent to a justice of the peace to know what they should do. What the\njustice advised them to, I know not; but towards the evening they called\nfrom the barrier, as above, to the sentinel at the tent.\n     \"What do you want?\" says John.\n     \"Why, what do you intend to do?\" says the constable.\n     \"To do?\" says John; \"what would you have us to do?\"\n     _Const._ Why don't you begone? What do you stay there for?\n     _John._ Why do you stop us on the King's highway, and pretend to\n     refuse us leave to go on our way?\n     _Const._ We are not bound to tell you the reason, though we did let\n     you know it was because of the plague.\n     _John._ We told you we were all sound, and free from the plague,\n     which we were not bound to have satisfied you of, and yet you\n     pretend to stop us on the highway.\n     _Const._ We have a right to stop it up, and our own safety obliges\n     us to it; besides, this is not the King's highway, it is a way upon\n     sufferance. You see here is a gate, and if we do let people pass\n     here, we make them pay toll.\n     _John._ We have a right to seek our own safety as well as you; and\n     you may see we are flying for our lives, and it is very unchristian\n     and unjust in you to stop us.\n     _Const._ You may go back from whence you came, we do not hinder you\n     from that.\n     _John._ No, it is a stronger enemy than you that keeps us from\n     doing that, or else we should not have come hither.\n     _Const._ Well, you may go any other way, then.\n     _John._ No, no. I suppose you see we are able to send you going,\n     and all the people of your parish, and come through your town when\n     we will; but, since you have stopped us here, we are content. You\n     see we have encamped here, and here we will live. We hope you will\n     furnish us with victuals.\n     _Const._ We furnish you! What mean you by that?\n     _John._ Why, you would not have us starve, would you? If you stop\n     us here, you must keep us.\n     _Const._ You will be ill kept at our maintenance.\n     _John._ If you stint us, we shall make ourselves the better\n     allowance.\n     _Const._ Why, you will not pretend to quarter upon us by force,\n     will you?\n     _John._ We have offered no violence to you yet, why do you seem to\n     oblige us to it? I am an old soldier, and cannot starve; and, if\n     you think that we shall be obliged to go back for want of\n     provisions, you are mistaken.\n     _Const._ Since you threaten us, we shall take care to be strong\n     enough for you. I have orders to raise the county upon you.\n     _John._ It is you that threaten, not we; and, since you are for\n     mischief, you cannot blame us if we do not give you time for it. We\n     shall begin our march in a few minutes.\n     _Const._ What is it you demand of us?\n     _John._ At first we desired nothing of you but leave to go through\n     the town. We should have offered no injury to any of you, neither\n     would you have had any injury or loss by us. We are not thieves,\n     but poor people in distress, and flying from the dreadful plague in\n     London, which devours thousands every week. We wonder how you can\n     be so unmerciful.\n     _Const._ Self-preservation obliges us.\n     _John._ What! To shut up your compassion, in a case of such\n     distress as this?\n     _Const._ Well, if you will pass over the fields on your left hand,\n     and behind that part of the town, I will endeavor to have gates\n     opened for you.\n     _John._ Our horsemen cannot pass with our baggage that way. It does\n     not lead into the road that we want to go, and why should you force\n     us out of the road? Besides, you have kept us here all day without\n     any provisions but such as we brought with us. I think you ought to\n     send us some provisions for our relief.\n     _Const._ If you will go another way, we will send you some\n     provisions.\n     _John._ That is the way to have all the towns in the county stop up\n     the ways against us.\n     _Const._ If they all furnish you with food, what will you be the\n     worse? I see you have tents: you want no lodging.\n     _John._ Well, what quantity of provisions will you send us?\n     _Const._ How many are you?\n     _John._ Nay, we do not ask enough for all our company. We are in\n     three companies. If you will send us bread for twenty men and about\n     six or seven women for three days, and show us the way over the\n     field you speak of, we desire not to put your people into any fear\n     for us. We will go out of our way to oblige you, though we are as\n     free from infection as you are.\n     _Const._ And will you assure us that your other people shall offer\n     us no new disturbance?\n     _John._ No, no; you may depend on it.\n     _Const._ You must oblige yourself, too, that none of your people\n     shall come a step nearer than where the provisions we send you\n     shall be set down.\n     _John._ I answer for it, we will not.\nHere he called to one of his men, and bade him order Captain Richard and\nhis people to march the lower way on the side of the marshes, and meet\nthem in the forest; which was all a sham, for they had no Captain\nRichard or any such company.\nAccordingly, they sent to the place twenty loaves of bread and three or\nfour large pieces of good beef, and opened some gates, through which\nthey passed; but none of them had courage so much as to look out to see\nthem go, and as it was evening, if they had looked, they could not have\nseen them so as to know how few they were.\nThis was John the soldier's management; but this gave such an alarm to\nthe county, that, had they really been two or three hundred, the whole\ncounty would have been raised upon them, and they would have been sent\nto prison, or perhaps knocked on the head.\nThey were soon made sensible of this, for two days afterwards they found\nseveral parties of horsemen and footmen also about, in pursuit of three\ncompanies of men armed, as they said, with muskets, who were broke out\nfrom London and had the plague upon them, and that were not only\nspreading the distemper among the people, but plundering the country.\nAs they saw now the consequence of their case, they soon saw the danger\nthey were in: so they resolved, by the advice also of the old soldier,\nto divide themselves again. John and his two comrades, with the horse,\nwent away as if towards Waltham,[200]--the other in two companies, but\nall a little asunder,--and went towards Epping.[200]\nThe first night they encamped all in the forest, and not far off from\none another, but not setting up the tent for fear that should discover\nthem. On the other hand, Richard went to work with his ax and his\nhatchet, and, cutting down branches of trees, he built three tents or\nhovels, in which they all encamped with as much convenience as they\ncould expect.\nThe provisions they had at Walthamstow served them very plentifully this\nnight; and as for the next, they left it to Providence. They had fared\nso well with the old soldier's conduct, that they now willingly made him\ntheir leader, and the first of his conduct appeared to be very good. He\ntold them that they were now at a proper distance enough from London;\nthat, as they need not be immediately beholden to the country for\nrelief, they ought to be as careful the country did not infect them as\nthat they did not infect the country; that what little money they had\nthey must be as frugal of as they could; that as he would not have them\nthink of offering the country any violence, so they must endeavor to\nmake the sense of their condition go as far with the country as it\ncould. They all referred themselves to his direction: so they left their\nthree houses standing, and the next day went away towards Epping; the\ncaptain also (for so they now called him), and his two fellow travelers,\nlaid aside their design of going to Waltham, and all went together.\nWhen they came near Epping, they halted, choosing out a proper place in\nthe open forest, not very near the highway, but not far out of it, on\nthe north side, under a little cluster of low pollard trees.[201] Here\nthey pitched their little camp, which consisted of three large tents or\nhuts made of poles, which their carpenter, and such as were his\nassistants, cut down, and fixed in the ground in a circle, binding all\nthe small ends together at the top, and thickening the sides with boughs\nof trees and bushes, so that they were completely close and warm. They\nhad besides this a little tent where the women lay by themselves, and a\nhut to put the horse in.\nIt happened that the next day, or the next but one, was market day at\nEpping, when Captain John and one of the other men went to market and\nbought some provisions, that is to say, bread, and some mutton and beef;\nand two of the women went separately, as if they had not belonged to the\nrest, and bought more. John took the horse to bring it home, and the\nsack which the carpenter carried his tools in, to put it in. The\ncarpenter went to work and made them benches and stools to sit on, such\nas the wood he could get would afford, and a kind of a table to dine on.\nThey were taken no notice of for two or three days; but after that,\nabundance of people ran out of the town to look at them, and all the\ncountry was alarmed about them. The people at first seemed afraid to\ncome near them; and, on the other hand, they desired the people to keep\noff, for there was a rumor that the plague was at Waltham, and that it\nhad been in Epping two or three days. So John called out to them not to\ncome to them. \"For,\" says he, \"we are all whole and sound people here,\nand we would not have you bring the plague among us, nor pretend we\nbrought it among you.\"\nAfter this, the parish officers came up to them, and parleyed with them\nat a distance, and desired to know who they were, and by what authority\nthey pretended to fix their stand at that place. John answered very\nfrankly, they were poor distressed people from London, who, foreseeing\nthe misery they should be reduced to if the plague spread into the city,\nhad fled out in time for their lives, and, having no acquaintance or\nrelations to fly to, had first taken up at Islington, but, the plague\nbeing come into that town, were fled farther; and, as they supposed that\nthe people of Epping might have refused them coming into their town,\nthey had pitched their tents thus in the open field and in the forest,\nbeing willing to bear all the hardships of such a disconsolate lodging\nrather than have any one think, or be afraid, that they should receive\ninjury by them.\nAt first the Epping people talked roughly to them, and told them they\nmust remove; that this was no place for them; and that they pretended to\nbe sound and well, but that they might be infected with the plague, for\naught they knew, and might infect the whole country, and they could not\nsuffer them there.\nJohn argued very calmly with them a great while, and told them that\nLondon was the place by which they, that is, the townsmen of Epping, and\nall the country round them, subsisted; to whom they sold the produce of\ntheir lands, and out of whom they made the rents of their farms; and to\nbe so cruel to the inhabitants of London, or to any of those by whom\nthey gained so much, was very hard; and they would be loath to have it\nremembered hereafter, and have it told, how barbarous, how inhospitable,\nand how unkind they were to the people of London when they fled from the\nface of the most terrible enemy in the world; that it would be enough to\nmake the name of an Epping man hateful throughout all the city, and to\nhave the rabble stone them in the very streets whenever they came so\nmuch as to market; that they were not yet secure from being visited\nthemselves, and that, as he heard, Waltham was already; that they would\nthink it very hard, that, when any of them fled for fear before they\nwere touched, they should be denied the liberty of lying so much as in\nthe open fields.\nThe Epping men told them again that they, indeed, said they were sound,\nand free from the infection, but that they had no assurance of it; and\nthat it was reported that there had been a great rabble of people at\nWalthamstow, who made such pretenses of being sound as they did, but\nthat they threatened to plunder the town, and force their way, whether\nthe parish officers would or no; that there were near two hundred of\nthem, and had arms and tents like Low Country soldiers; that they\nextorted provisions from the town by threatening them with living upon\nthem at free quarter,[202] showing their arms, and talking in the\nlanguage of soldiers; and that several of them having gone away towards\nRumford and Brentwood, the country had been infected by them, and the\nplague spread into both those large towns, so that the people durst not\ngo to market there, as usual; that it was very likely they were some of\nthat party, and, if so, they deserved to be sent to the county jail, and\nbe secured till they had made satisfaction for the damage they had done,\nand for the terror and fright they had put the country into.\nJohn answered, that what other people had done was nothing to them; that\nthey assured them they were all of one company; that they had never been\nmore in number than they saw them at that time (which, by the way, was\nvery true); that they came out in two separate companies, but joined by\nthe way, their cases being the same; that they were ready to give what\naccount of themselves anybody desired of them, and to give in their\nnames and places of abode, that so they might be called to an account\nfor any disorder that they might be guilty of; that the townsmen might\nsee they were content to live hardly, and only desired a little room to\nbreathe in on the forest, where it was wholesome (for where it was not,\nthey could not stay, and would decamp if they found it otherwise there).\n\"But,\" said the townsmen, \"we have a great charge of poor upon our hands\nalready, and we must take care not to increase it. We suppose you can\ngive us no security against your being chargeable to our parish and to\nthe inhabitants, any more than you can of being dangerous to us as to\nthe infection.\"\n\"Why, look you,\" says John, \"as to being chargeable to you, we hope we\nshall not. If you will relieve us with provisions for our present\nnecessity, we will be very thankful. As we all lived without charity\nwhen we were at home, so we will oblige ourselves fully to repay you, if\nGod please to bring us back to our own families and houses in safety,\nand to restore health to the people of London.\n\"As to our dying here, we assure you, if any of us die, we that survive\nwill bury them, and put you to no expense, except it should be that we\nshould all die, and then, indeed, the last man, not being able to bury\nhimself, would put you to that single expense; which I am persuaded,\"\nsays John, \"he would leave enough behind him to pay you for the expense\nof.\n\"On the other hand,\" says John, \"if you will shut up all bowels of\ncompassion, and not relieve us at all, we shall not extort anything by\nviolence, or steal from any one; but when that little we have is spent,\nif we perish for want, God's will be done!\"\nJohn wrought so upon the townsmen by talking thus rationally and\nsmoothly to them, that they went away; and though they did not give any\nconsent to their staying there, yet they did not molest them, and the\npoor people continued there three or four days longer without any\ndisturbance. In this time they had got some remote acquaintance with a\nvictualing house on the outskirts of the town, to whom they called at a\ndistance to bring some little things that they wanted, and which they\ncaused to be set down at some distance, and always paid for very\nhonestly.\nDuring this time the younger people of the town came frequently pretty\nnear them, and would stand and look at them, and would sometimes talk\nwith them at some space between; and particularly it was observed that\nthe first sabbath day the poor people kept retired, worshiped God\ntogether, and were heard to sing psalms.\nThese things, and a quiet, inoffensive behavior, began to get them the\ngood opinion of the country, and the people began to pity them and speak\nvery well of them; the consequence of which was, that upon the occasion\nof a very wet, rainy night, a certain gentleman who lived in the\nneighborhood sent them a little cart with twelve trusses or bundles of\nstraw, as well for them to lodge upon as to cover and thatch their huts,\nand to keep them dry. The minister of a parish not far off, not knowing\nof the other, sent them also about two bushels of wheat and half a\nbushel of white pease.\nThey were very thankful, to be sure, for this relief, and particularly\nthe straw was a very great comfort to them; for though the ingenious\ncarpenter had made them frames to lie in, like troughs, and filled them\nwith leaves of trees and such things as they could get, and had cut all\ntheir tent cloth out to make coverlids, yet they lay damp and hard and\nunwholesome till this straw came, which was to them like feather beds,\nand, as John said, more welcome than feather beds would have been at\nanother time.\nThis gentleman and the minister having thus begun, and given an example\nof charity to these wanderers, others quickly followed; and they\nreceived every day some benevolence or other from the people, but\nchiefly from the gentlemen who dwelt in the country round about. Some\nsent them chairs, stools, tables, and such household things as they gave\nnotice they wanted. Some sent them blankets, rugs, and coverlids; some,\nearthenware; and some, kitchen ware for ordering[203] their food.\nEncouraged by this good usage, their carpenter, in a few days, built\nthem a large shed or house with rafters, and a roof in form, and an\nupper floor, in which they lodged warm, for the weather began to be damp\nand cold in the beginning of September; but this house being very well\nthatched, and the sides and roof very thick, kept out the cold well\nenough. He made also an earthen wall at one end, with a chimney in it;\nand another of the company, with a vast deal of trouble and pains, made\na funnel to the chimney to carry out the smoke.\nHere they lived comfortably, though coarsely, till the beginning of\nSeptember, when they had the bad news to hear, whether true or not, that\nthe plague, which was very hot at Waltham Abbey on the one side, and\nRumford and Brentwood on the other side, was also come to Epping, to\nWoodford, and to most of the towns upon the forest; and which, as they\nsaid, was brought down among them chiefly by the higglers,[204] and such\npeople as went to and from London with provisions.\nIf this was true, it was an evident contradiction to the report which\nwas afterwards spread all over England, but which, as I have said, I\ncannot confirm of my own knowledge, namely, that the market people\ncarrying provisions to the city never got the infection or carried it\nback into the country; both which, I have been assured, has been[205]\nfalse.\nIt might be that they were preserved even beyond expectation, though not\nto a miracle;[206] that abundance went and came and were not touched;\nand that was much encouragement for the poor people of London, who had\nbeen completely miserable if the people that brought provisions to the\nmarkets had not been many times wonderfully preserved, or at least more\npreserved than could be reasonably expected.\nBut these new inmates began to be disturbed more effectually, for the\ntowns about them were really infected. And they began to be afraid to\ntrust one another so much as to go abroad for such things as they\nwanted; and this pinched them very hard, for now they had little or\nnothing but what the charitable gentlemen of the country supplied them\nwith. But, for their encouragement, it happened that other gentlemen of\nthe country, who had not sent them anything before, began to hear of\nthem and supply them. And one sent them a large pig, that is to say, a\nporker; another, two sheep; and another sent them a calf: in short, they\nhad meat enough, and sometimes had cheese and milk, and such things.\nThey were chiefly put to it[207] for bread; for when the gentlemen sent\nthem corn, they had nowhere to bake it or to grind it. This made them\neat the first two bushels of wheat that was sent them, in parched corn,\nas the Israelites of old did, without grinding or making bread of\nAt last they found means to carry their corn to a windmill near\nWoodford, where they had it ground; and afterwards the biscuit baker\nmade a hearth so hollow and dry, that he could bake biscuit cakes\ntolerably well, and thus they came into a condition to live without any\nassistance or supplies from the towns. And it was well they did; for the\ncountry was soon after fully infected, and about a hundred and twenty\nwere said to have died of the distemper in the villages near them, which\nwas a terrible thing to them.\nOn this they called a new council, and now the towns had no need to be\nafraid they should settle near them; but, on the contrary, several\nfamilies of the poorer sort of the inhabitants quitted their houses, and\nbuilt huts in the forest, after the same manner as they had done. But it\nwas observed that several of these poor people that had so removed had\nthe sickness even in their huts or booths, the reason of which was\nplain: namely, not because they removed into the air, but[209] because\nthey did not remove time[210] enough, that is to say, not till, by\nopenly conversing with other people, their neighbors, they had the\ndistemper upon them (or, as may be said, among them), and so carried it\nabout with them whither they went; or (2) because they were not careful\nenough, after they were safely removed out of the towns, not to come in\nagain and mingle with the diseased people.\nBut be it which of these it will, when our travelers began to perceive\nthat the plague was not only in the towns, but even in the tents and\nhuts on the forest near them, they began then not only to be afraid, but\nto think of decamping and removing; for, had they staid, they would have\nbeen in manifest danger of their lives.\nIt is not to be wondered that they were greatly afflicted at being\nobliged to quit the place where they had been so kindly received, and\nwhere they had been treated with so much humanity and charity; but\nnecessity, and the hazard of life which they came out so far to\npreserve, prevailed with them, and they saw no remedy. John, however,\nthought of a remedy for their present misfortune; namely, that he would\nfirst acquaint that gentleman who was their principal benefactor with\nthe distress they were in, and to[211] crave his assistance and advice.\nThis good charitable gentleman encouraged them to quit the place, for\nfear they should be cut off from any retreat at all by the violence of\nthe distemper; but whither they should go, that he found very hard to\ndirect them to. At last John asked of him, whether he, being a justice\nof the peace, would give them certificates of health to other justices\nwho[212] they might come before, that so, whatever might be their lot,\nthey might not be repulsed, now they had been also so long from London.\nThis his worship immediately granted, and gave them proper letters of\nhealth; and from thence they were at liberty to travel whither they\npleased.\nAccordingly they had a full certificate of health, intimating that they\nhad resided in a village in the county of Essex so long; that, being\nexamined and scrutinized sufficiently, and having been retired from all\nconversation[213] for above forty days, without any appearance of\nsickness, they were therefore certainly concluded to be sound men, and\nmight be safely entertained anywhere, having at last removed rather for\nfear of the plague, which was come into such a town, rather[214] than\nfor having any signal of infection upon them, or upon any belonging to\nthem.\nWith this certificate they removed, though with great reluctance; and,\nJohn inclining not to go far from home, they removed towards the marshes\non the side of Waltham. But here they found a man who, it seems, kept a\nweir or stop upon the river, made to raise water for the barges which go\nup and down the river; and he terrified them with dismal stories of the\nsickness having been spread into all the towns on the river and near the\nriver, on the side of Middlesex and Hertfordshire (that is to say, into\nWaltham, Waltham Cross, Enfield, and Ware, and all the towns on the\nroad), that they were afraid to go that way; though it seems the man\nimposed upon them, for that[215] the thing was not really true.\nHowever, it terrified them, and they resolved to move across the forest\ntowards Rumford and Brentwood; but they heard that there were numbers of\npeople fled out of London that way, who lay up and down in the forest,\nreaching near Rumford, and who, having no subsistence or habitation, not\nonly lived oddly,[216] and suffered great extremities in the woods and\nfields for want of relief, but were said to be made so desperate by\nthose extremities, as that they offered many violences to the country,\nrobbed and plundered, and killed cattle, and the like; and others,\nbuilding huts and hovels by the roadside, begged, and that with an\nimportunity next door to demanding relief: so that the country was very\nuneasy, and had been obliged to take some of them up.\nThis, in the first place, intimated to them that they would be sure to\nfind the charity and kindness of the county, which they had found here\nwhere they were before, hardened and shut up against them; and that, on\nthe other hand, they would be questioned wherever they came, and would\nbe in danger of violence from others in like cases with themselves.\nUpon all these considerations, John, their captain, in all their names,\nwent back to their good friend and benefactor who had relieved them\nbefore, and, laying their case truly before him, humbly asked his\nadvice; and he as kindly advised them to take up their old quarters\nagain, or, if not, to remove but a little farther out of the road, and\ndirected them to a proper place for them. And as they really wanted some\nhouse, rather than huts, to shelter them at that time of the year, it\ngrowing on towards Michaelmas, they found an old decayed house, which\nhad been formerly some cottage or little habitation, but was so out of\nrepair as[217] scarce habitable; and by consent of a farmer, to whose\nfarm it belonged, they got leave to make what use of it they could.\nThe ingenious joiner, and all the rest by his directions, went to work\nwith it, and in a very few days made it capable to shelter them all in\ncase of bad weather; and in which there was an old chimney and an old\noven, though both lying in ruins, yet they made them both fit for use;\nand, raising additions, sheds, and lean-to's[218] on every side, they\nsoon made the house capable to hold them all.\nThey chiefly wanted boards to make window shutters, floors, doors, and\nseveral other things; but as the gentleman above favored them, and the\ncountry was by that means made easy with them, and, above all, that they\nwere known to be all sound and in good health, everybody helped them\nwith what they could spare.\nHere they encamped for good and all, and resolved to remove no more.\nThey saw plainly how terribly alarmed that country was everywhere at\nanybody that came from London, and that they should have no admittance\nanywhere but with the utmost difficulty; at least no friendly reception\nand assistance, as they had received here.\nNow, although they received great assistance and encouragement from the\ncountry gentlemen, and from the people round about them, yet they were\nput to great straits; for the weather grew cold and wet in October and\nNovember, and they had not been used to so much hardship, so that they\ngot cold in their limbs, and distempers, but never had the infection.\nAnd thus about December they came home to the city again.\nI give this story thus at large, principally to give an account[219]\nwhat became of the great numbers of people which immediately appeared in\nthe city as soon as the sickness abated; for, as I have said, great\nnumbers of those that were able, and had retreats in the country, fled\nto those retreats. So when it[220] was increased to such a frightful\nextremity as I have related, the middling people[221] who had not\nfriends fled to all parts of the country where they could get shelter,\nas well those that had money to relieve themselves as those that had\nnot. Those that had money always fled farthest, because they were able\nto subsist themselves; but those who were empty suffered, as I have\nsaid, great hardships, and were often driven by necessity to relieve\ntheir wants at the expense of the country. By that means the country was\nmade very uneasy at them, and sometimes took them up, though even then\nthey scarce knew what to do with them, and were always very backward to\npunish them; but often, too, they forced them from place to place, till\nthey were obliged to come back again to London.\nI have, since my knowing this story of John and his brother, inquired,\nand found that there were a great many of the poor disconsolate people,\nas above, fled into the country every way; and some of them got little\nsheds and barns and outhouses to live in, where they could obtain so\nmuch kindness of the country, and especially where they had any, the\nleast satisfactory account to give of themselves, and particularly that\nthey did not come out of London too late. But others, and that in great\nnumbers, built themselves little huts and retreats in the fields and\nwoods, and lived like hermits in holes and caves, or any place they\ncould find, and where, we may be sure, they suffered great extremities,\nsuch that many of them were obliged to come back again, whatever the\ndanger was. And so those little huts were often found empty, and the\ncountry people supposed the inhabitants lay dead in them of the plague,\nand would not go near them for fear, no, not in a great while; nor is it\nunlikely but that some of the unhappy wanderers might die so all alone,\neven sometimes for want of help, as particularly in one tent or hut was\nfound a man dead, and on the gate of a field just by was cut with his\nknife, in uneven letters, the following words, by which it may be\nsupposed the other man escaped, or that, one dying first, the other\nburied him as well as he could:--\n    We Bo T H Sh a L L D y E,\nI have given an account already of what I found to have been the case\ndown the river among the seafaring men, how the ships lay in the\n\"offing,\" as it is called, in rows or lines, astern of one another,\nquite down from the Pool as far as I could see. I have been told that\nthey lay in the same manner quite down the river as low as\nGravesend,[222] and some far beyond, even everywhere, or in every place\nwhere they could ride with safety as to wind and weather. Nor did I ever\nhear that the plague reached to any of the people on board those ships,\nexcept such as lay up in the Pool, or as high as Deptford Reach,\nalthough the people went frequently on shore to the country towns and\nvillages, and farmers' houses, to buy fresh provisions (fowls, pigs,\ncalves, and the like) for their supply.\nLikewise I found that the watermen on the river above the bridge found\nmeans to convey themselves away up the river as far as they could go;\nand that they had, many of them, their whole families in their boats,\ncovered with tilts[223] and bales, as they call them, and furnished with\nstraw within for their lodging; and that they lay thus all along by the\nshore in the marshes, some of them setting up little tents with their\nsails, and so lying under them on shore in the day, and going into their\nboats at night. And in this manner, as I have heard, the riversides were\nlined with boats and people as long as they had anything to subsist on,\nor could get anything of the country; and indeed the country people, as\nwell gentlemen as others, on these and all other occasions, were very\nforward to relieve them, but they were by no means willing to receive\nthem into their towns and houses, and for that we cannot blame them.\nThere was one unhappy citizen, within my knowledge, who had been visited\nin a dreadful manner, so that his wife and all his children were dead,\nand himself and two servants only left, with an elderly woman, a near\nrelation, who had nursed those that were dead as well as she could. This\ndisconsolate man goes to a village near the town, though not within the\nbills of mortality, and, finding an empty house there, inquires out the\nowner, and took the house. After a few days he got a cart, and loaded it\nwith goods, and carries them down to the house. The people of the\nvillage opposed his driving the cart along, but, with some arguings and\nsome force, the men that drove the cart along got through the street up\nto the door of the house. There the constable resisted them again, and\nwould not let them be brought in. The man caused the goods to be\nunloaded and laid at the door, and sent the cart away, upon which they\ncarried the man before a justice of peace; that is to say, they\ncommanded him to go, which he did. The justice ordered him to cause the\ncart to fetch away the goods again, which he refused to do; upon which\nthe justice ordered the constable to pursue the carters and fetch them\nback, and make them reload the goods and carry them away, or to set\nthem in the stocks[224] till they[225] came for further orders; and if\nthey could not find them,[226] and the man would not consent to take\nthem[227] away, they[225] should cause them[227] to be drawn with hooks\nfrom the house door, and burned in the street. The poor distressed man,\nupon this, fetched the goods again, but with grievous cries and\nlamentations at the hardship of his case. But there was no remedy:\nself-preservation obliged the people to those severities which they\nwould not otherwise have been concerned in. Whether this poor man lived\nor died, I cannot tell, but it was reported that he had the plague upon\nhim at that time, and perhaps the people might report that to justify\ntheir usage of him; but it was not unlikely that either he or his goods,\nor both, were dangerous, when his whole family had been dead of the\ndistemper so little a while before.\nI know that the inhabitants of the towns adjacent to London were much\nblamed for cruelty to the poor people that ran from the contagion in\ntheir distress, and many very severe things were done, as may be seen\nfrom what has been said; but I cannot but say also, that where there was\nroom for charity and assistance to the people, without apparent danger\nto themselves, they were willing enough to help and relieve them. But as\nevery town were indeed judges in their own case, so the poor people who\nran abroad in their extremities were often ill used, and driven back\nagain into the town; and this caused infinite exclamations and outcries\nagainst the country towns, and made the clamor very popular.\nAnd yet more or less, maugre[228] all the caution, there was not a town\nof any note within ten (or, I believe, twenty) miles of the city, but\nwhat was more or less infected, and had some[229] died among them. I\nhave heard the accounts of several, such as they were reckoned up, as\nfollows:--\n    Barnet and Hadley         43\n    Eltham and Lusum          85\nAnother thing might render the country more strict with respect to the\ncitizens, and especially with respect to the poor, and this was what I\nhinted at before; namely, that there was a seeming propensity, or a\nwicked inclination, in those that were infected, to infect others.\nThere have been great debates among our physicians as to the reason of\nthis. Some will have it to be in the nature of the disease, and that it\nimpresses every one that is seized upon by it with a kind of rage and a\nhatred against their own kind, as if there were a malignity, not only in\nthe distemper to communicate itself, but in the very nature of man,\nprompting him with evil will, or an evil eye, that as they say in the\ncase of a mad dog, who, though the gentlest creature before of any of\nhis kind, yet then will fly upon and bite any one that comes next him,\nand those as soon as any, who have been most observed[231] by him\nbefore.\nOthers placed it to the account of the corruption of human nature,\nwho[232] cannot bear to see itself more miserable than others of its own\nspecies, and has a kind of involuntary wish that all men were as unhappy\nor in as bad a condition as itself.\nOthers say it was only a kind of desperation, not knowing or regarding\nwhat they did, and consequently unconcerned at the danger or safety, not\nonly of anybody near them, but even of themselves also. And indeed, when\nmen are once come to a condition to abandon themselves, and be\nunconcerned for the safety or at the danger of themselves, it cannot be\nso much wondered that they should be careless of the safety of other\npeople.\nBut I choose to give this grave debate quite a different turn, and\nanswer it or resolve it all by saying that I do not grant the fact. On\nthe contrary, I say that the thing is not really so, but that it was a\ngeneral complaint raised by the people inhabiting the outlying villages\nagainst the citizens, to justify, or at least excuse, those hardships\nand severities so much talked of, and in which complaints both sides may\nbe said to have injured one another; that is to say, the citizens\npressing to be received and harbored in time of distress, and with the\nplague upon them, complain of the cruelty and injustice of the country\npeople in being refused entrance, and forced back again with their\ngoods and families; and the inhabitants, finding themselves so imposed\nupon, and the citizens breaking in, as it were, upon them, whether they\nwould or no, complain that when they[233] were infected, they were not\nonly regardless of others, but even willing to infect them: neither of\nwhich was really true, that is to say, in the colors they[234] were\ndescribed in.\nIt is true there is something to be said for the frequent alarms which\nwere given to the country, of the resolution of the people of London to\ncome out by force, not only for relief, but to plunder and rob; that\nthey ran about the streets with the distemper upon them without any\ncontrol; and that no care was taken to shut up houses, and confine the\nsick people from infecting others; whereas, to do the Londoners justice,\nthey never practiced such things, except in such particular cases as I\nhave mentioned above, and such like. On the other hand, everything was\nmanaged with so much care, and such excellent order was observed in the\nwhole city and suburbs, by the care of the lord mayor and aldermen, and\nby the justices of the peace, churchwardens, etc., in the outparts, that\nLondon may be a pattern to all the cities in the world for the good\ngovernment and the excellent order that was everywhere kept, even in the\ntime of the most violent infection, and when the people were in the\nutmost consternation and distress. But of this I shall speak by itself.\nOne thing, it is to be observed, was owing principally to the prudence\nof the magistrates, and ought to be mentioned to their honor; viz., the\nmoderation which they used in the great and difficult work of shutting\nup houses. It is true, as I have mentioned, that the shutting up of\nhouses was a great subject of discontent, and I may say, indeed, the\nonly subject of discontent among the people at that time; for the\nconfining the sound in the same house with the sick was counted very\nterrible, and the complaints of people so confined were very grievous:\nthey were heard in the very streets, and they were sometimes such that\ncalled for resentment, though oftener for compassion. They had no way to\nconverse with any of their friends but out of their windows, where they\nwould make such piteous lamentations as often moved the hearts of those\nthey talked with, and of others who, passing by, heard their story; and\nas those complaints oftentimes reproached the severity, and sometimes\nthe insolence, of the watchmen placed at their doors, those watchmen\nwould answer saucily enough, and perhaps be apt to affront the people\nwho were in the street talking to the said families; for which, or for\ntheir ill treatment of the families, I think seven or eight of them in\nseveral places were killed. I know not whether I should say murdered or\nnot, because I cannot enter into the particular cases. It is true, the\nwatchmen were on their duty, and acting in the post where they were\nplaced by a lawful authority; and killing any public legal officer in\nthe execution of his office is always, in the language of the law,\ncalled \"murder.\" But as they were not authorized by the magistrate's\ninstructions, or by the power they acted under, to be injurious or\nabusive, either to the people who were under their observation or to any\nthat concerned themselves for them, so that,[235] when they did so, they\nmight be said to act themselves, not their office; to act as private\npersons, not as persons employed; and consequently, if they brought\nmischief upon themselves by such an undue behavior, that mischief was\nupon their own heads. And indeed they had so much the hearty curses of\nthe people, whether they deserved it or not, that, whatever befell them,\nnobody pitied them; and everybody was apt to say they deserved it,\nwhatever it was. Nor do I remember that anybody was ever punished, at\nleast to any considerable degree, for whatever was done to the watchmen\nthat guarded their houses.\nWhat variety of stratagems were used to escape, and get out of houses\nthus shut up, by which the watchmen were deceived or overpowered, and\nthat[236] the people got away, I have taken notice of already, and shall\nsay no more to that; but I say the magistrates did moderate and ease\nfamilies upon many occasions in this case, and particularly in that of\ntaking away or suffering to be removed the sick persons out of such\nhouses, when they were willing to be removed, either to a pesthouse or\nother places, and sometimes giving the well persons in the family so\nshut up leave to remove, upon information given that they were well, and\nthat they would confine themselves in such houses where they went, so\nlong as should be required of them. The concern, also, of the\nmagistrates for the supplying such poor families as were infected,--I\nsay, supplying them with necessaries, as well physic as food,--was very\ngreat: and in which they did not content themselves with giving the\nnecessary orders to the officers appointed; but the aldermen, in person\nand on horseback, frequently rode to such houses, and caused the people\nto be asked at their windows whether they were duly attended or not,\nalso whether they wanted anything that was necessary, and if the\nofficers had constantly carried their messages, and fetched them such\nthings as they wanted, or not. And if they answered in the affirmative,\nall was well; but if they complained that they were ill supplied, and\nthat the officer did not do his duty, or did not treat them civilly,\nthey (the officers) were generally removed, and others placed in their\nstead.\nIt is true, such complaint might be unjust; and if the officer had such\narguments to use as would convince the magistrate that he was right, and\nthat the people had injured him, he was continued, and they reproved.\nBut this part could not well bear a particular inquiry, for the parties\ncould very ill be well heard and answered in the street from the\nwindows, as was the case then. The magistrates, therefore, generally\nchose to favor the people, and remove the man, as what seemed to be the\nleast wrong and of the least ill consequence; seeing, if the watchman\nwas injured, yet they could easily make him amends by giving him another\npost of a like nature; but, if the family was injured, there was no\nsatisfaction could be made to them, the damage, perhaps, being\nirreparable, as it concerned their lives.\nA great variety of these cases frequently happened between the watchmen\nand the poor people shut up, besides those I formerly mentioned about\nescaping. Sometimes the watchmen were absent, sometimes drunk, sometimes\nasleep, when the people wanted them; and such never failed to be\npunished severely, as indeed they deserved.\nBut, after all that was or could be done in these cases, the shutting up\nof houses, so as to confine those that were well with those that were\nsick, had very great inconveniences in it, and some that were very\ntragical, and which merited to have been considered, if there had been\nroom for it: but it was authorized by a law, it had the public good in\nview as the end chiefly aimed at; and all the private injuries that were\ndone by the putting it in execution must be put to the account of the\npublic benefit.\nIt is doubtful whether, in the whole, it contributed anything to the\nstop of the infection; and indeed I cannot say it did, for nothing could\nrun with greater fury and rage than the infection did when it was in its\nchief violence, though the houses infected were shut up as exactly and\neffectually as it was possible. Certain it is, that, if all the infected\npersons were effectually shut in, no sound person could have been\ninfected by them, because they could not have come near them.[237] But\nthe case was this (and I shall only touch it here); namely, that the\ninfection was propagated insensibly, and by such persons as were not\nvisibly infected, who neither knew whom they infected, nor whom they\nwere infected by.\nA house in Whitechapel was shut up for the sake of one infected maid,\nwho had only spots, not the tokens, come out upon her, and recovered;\nyet these people obtained no liberty to stir, neither for air or\nexercise, forty days. Want of breath, fear, anger, vexation, and all the\nother griefs attending such an injurious treatment, cast the mistress of\nthe family into a fever; and visitors came into the house and said it\nwas the plague, though the physicians declared it was not. However, the\nfamily were obliged to begin their quarantine anew, on the report of the\nvisitor or examiner, though their former quarantine wanted but a few\ndays of being finished. This oppressed them so with anger and grief,\nand, as before, straitened them also so much as to room, and for want of\nbreathing and free air, that most of the family fell sick, one of one\ndistemper, one of another, chiefly scorbutic[238] ailments, only one a\nviolent cholic; until, after several prolongings of their confinement,\nsome or other of those that came in with the visitors to inspect the\npersons that were ill, in hopes of releasing them, brought the distemper\nwith them, and infected the whole house; and all or most of them died,\nnot of the plague as really upon them before, but of the plague that\nthose people brought them, who should have been careful to have\nprotected them from it. And this was a thing which frequently happened,\nand was indeed one of the worst consequences of shutting houses up.\nI had about this time a little hardship put upon me, which I was at\nfirst greatly afflicted at, and very much disturbed about, though, as it\nproved, it did not expose me to any disaster; and this was, being\nappointed, by the alderman of Portsoken Ward, one of the examiners of\nthe houses in the precinct where I lived. We had a large parish, and had\nno less than eighteen examiners, as the order called us: the people\ncalled us visitors. I endeavored with all my might to be excused from\nsuch an employment, and used many arguments with the alderman's deputy\nto be excused; particularly, I alleged that I was against shutting up\nhouses at all, and that it would be very hard to oblige me to be an\ninstrument in that which was against my judgment, and which I did verily\nbelieve would not answer the end it was intended for. But all the\nabatement I could get was only, that whereas the officer was appointed\nby my lord mayor to continue two months, I should be obliged to hold it\nbut three weeks, on condition, nevertheless, that I could then get some\nother sufficient housekeeper to serve the rest of the time for me;\nwhich was, in short, but a very small favor, it being very difficult to\nget any man to accept of such an employment that was fit to be intrusted\nwith it.\nIt is true that shutting up of houses had one effect which I am sensible\nwas of moment; namely, it confined the distempered people, who would\notherwise have been both very troublesome and very dangerous in their\nrunning about streets with the distemper upon them, which, when they\nwere delirious, they would have done in a most frightful manner, as,\nindeed, they began to do at first very much until they were restrained;\nnay, so very open they were, that the poor would go about and beg at\npeople's doors, and say they had the plague upon them, and beg rags for\ntheir sores, or both, or anything that delirious nature happened to\nthink of.\nA poor unhappy gentlewoman, a substantial citizen's wife, was, if the\nstory be true, murdered by one of these creatures in Aldersgate Street,\nor that way. He was going along the street, raving mad, to be sure, and\nsinging. The people only said he was drunk; but he himself said he had\nthe plague upon him, which, it seems, was true; and, meeting this\ngentlewoman, he would kiss her. She was terribly frightened, as he was a\nrude fellow, and she run from him; but, the street being very thin of\npeople, there was nobody near enough to help her. When she saw he would\novertake her, she turned and gave him a thrust so forcibly, he being but\nweak, as pushed him down backward; but very unhappily, she being so\nnear, he caught hold of her and pulled her down also, and, getting up\nfirst, mastered her and kissed her, and, which was worst of all, when he\nhad done, told her he had the plague, and why should not she have it as\nwell as he. She was frightened enough before; but when she heard him say\nhe had the plague, she screamed out, and fell down into a swoon, or in a\nfit, which, though she recovered a little, yet killed her in a very few\ndays; and I never heard whether she had the plague or no.\nAnother infected person came and knocked at the door of a citizen's\nhouse where they knew him very well. The servant let him in, and, being\ntold the master of the house was above, he ran up, and came into the\nroom to them as the whole family were at supper. They began to rise up a\nlittle surprised, not knowing what the matter was; but he bid them sit\nstill, he only come to take his leave of them. They asked him, \"Why, Mr.\n----, where are you going?\"--\"Going?\" says he; \"I have got the sickness,\nand shall die to-morrow night.\" It is easy to believe, though not to\ndescribe, the consternation they were all in. The women and the man's\ndaughters, which[239] were but little girls, were frightened almost to\ndeath, and got up, one running out at one door and one at another, some\ndownstairs and some upstairs, and, getting together as well as they\ncould, locked themselves into their chambers, and screamed out at the\nwindows for help, as if they had been frightened out of their wits. The\nmaster, more composed than they, though both frightened and provoked,\nwas going to lay hands on him and throw him downstairs, being in a\npassion; but then, considering a little the condition of the man and the\ndanger of touching him, horror seized his mind, and he stood still like\none astonished. The poor distempered man, all this while, being as well\ndiseased in his brain as in his body, stood still like one amazed. At\nlength he turns round. \"Ay!\" says he with all the seeming calmness\nimaginable, \"is it so with you all? Are you all disturbed at me? Why,\nthen, I'll e'en go home and die there.\" And so he goes immediately\ndownstairs. The servant that had let him in goes down after him with a\ncandle, but was afraid to go past him and open the door; so he stood on\nthe stairs to see what he would do. The man went and opened the door,\nand went out and flung[240] the door after him. It was some while before\nthe family recovered the fright; but, as no ill consequence attended,\nthey have had occasion since to speak of it, you may be sure, with great\nsatisfaction. Though the man was gone, it was some time, nay, as I\nheard, some days, before they recovered themselves of the hurry they\nwere in; nor did they go up and down the house with any assurance till\nthey had burned a great variety of fumes and perfumes in all the rooms,\nand made a great many smokes of pitch, of gunpowder, and of sulphur. All\nseparately shifted,[241] and washed their clothes, and the like. As to\nthe poor man, whether he lived or died, I do not remember.\nIt is most certain, that if, by the shutting up of houses, the sick had\nnot been confined, multitudes, who in the height of their fever were\ndelirious and distracted, would have been continually running up and\ndown the streets; and even as it was, a very great number did so, and\noffered all sorts of violence to those they met, even just as a mad dog\nruns on and bites at every one he meets. Nor can I doubt but that,\nshould one of those infected diseased creatures have bitten any man or\nwoman while the frenzy of the distemper was upon them, they (I mean the\nperson so wounded) would as certainly have been incurably infected as\none that was sick before and had the tokens upon him.\nI heard of one infected creature, who, running out of his bed in his\nshirt, in the anguish and agony of his swellings (of which he had three\nupon him), got his shoes on, and went to put on his coat; but the nurse\nresisting, and snatching the coat from him, he threw her down, run over\nher, ran downstairs and into the street directly to the Thames, in his\nshirt, the nurse running after him, and calling to the watch to stop\nhim. But the watchman, frightened at the man, and afraid to touch him,\nlet him go on; upon which he ran down to the Still-Yard Stairs, threw\naway his shirt, and plunged into the Thames, and, being a good swimmer,\nswam quite over the river; and the tide being \"coming in,\" as they call\nit (that is, running westward), he reached the land not till he came\nabout the Falcon Stairs, where, landing and finding no people there, it\nbeing in the night, he ran about the streets there, naked as he was, for\na good while, when, it being by that time high water, he takes the\nriver again, and swam back to the Still Yard, landed, ran up the streets\nto his own house, knocking at the door, went up the stairs, and into his\nbed again; and[242] that this terrible experiment cured him of the\nplague, that is to say, that the violent motion of his arms and legs\nstretched the parts where the swellings he had upon him were (that is to\nsay, under his arms and in his groin), and caused them to ripen and\nbreak; and that the cold of the water abated the fever in his blood.\nI have only to add, that I do not relate this, any more than some of the\nother, as a fact within my own knowledge, so as that I can vouch the\ntruth of them; and especially that of the man being cured by the\nextravagant adventure, which I confess I do not think very possible, but\nit may serve to confirm the many desperate things which the distressed\npeople, falling into deliriums and what we call light-headedness, were\nfrequently run upon at that time, and how infinitely more such there\nwould have been if such people had not been confined by the shutting up\nof houses; and this I take to be the best, if not the only good thing,\nwhich was performed by that severe method.\nOn the other hand, the complaints and the murmurings were very bitter\nagainst the thing itself.\nIt would pierce the hearts of all that came by, to hear the piteous\ncries of those infected people, who, being thus out of their\nunderstandings by the violence of their pain or the heat of their blood,\nwere either shut in, or perhaps tied in their beds and chairs, to\nprevent their doing themselves hurt, and who would make a dreadful\noutcry at their being confined, and at their being not permitted to \"die\nat large,\" as they called it, and as they would have done before.\nThis running of distempered people about the streets was very dismal,\nand the magistrates did their utmost to prevent it; but as it was\ngenerally in the night, and always sudden, when such attempts were made,\nthe officers could not be at hand to prevent it; and even when they got\nout in the day, the officers appointed did not care to meddle with\nthem, because, as they were all grievously infected, to be sure, when\nthey were come to that height, so they were more than ordinarily\ninfectious, and it was one of the most dangerous things that could be to\ntouch them. On the other hand, they generally ran on, not knowing what\nthey did, till they dropped down stark dead, or till they had exhausted\ntheir spirits so as that they would fall and then die in perhaps half an\nhour or an hour; and, which was most piteous to hear, they were sure to\ncome to themselves entirely in that half hour or hour, and then to make\nmost grievous and piercing cries and lamentations, in the deep\nafflicting sense of the condition they were in. There was much of it\nbefore the order for shutting up of houses was strictly put into\nexecution; for at first the watchmen were not so rigorous and severe as\nthey were afterwards in the keeping the people in; that is to say,\nbefore they were (I mean some of them) severely punished for their\nneglect, failing in their duty, and letting people who were under their\ncare slip away, or conniving at their going abroad, whether sick or\nwell. But after they saw the officers appointed to examine into their\nconduct were resolved to have them do their duty, or be punished for the\nomission, they were more exact, and the people were strictly restrained;\nwhich was a thing they took so ill, and bore so impatiently, that their\ndiscontents can hardly be described; but there was an absolute necessity\nfor it, that must be confessed, unless some other measures had been\ntimely entered upon, and it was too late for that.\nHad not this particular of the sick being restrained as above been our\ncase at that time, London would have been the most dreadful place that\never was in the world. There would, for aught I know, have as many\npeople died in the streets as died in their houses: for when the\ndistemper was at its height, it generally made them raving and\ndelirious; and when they were so, they would never be persuaded to keep\nin their beds but by force; and many who were not tied threw themselves\nout of windows when they found they could not get leave to go out of\ntheir doors.\nIt was for want of people conversing one with another in this time of\ncalamity, that it was impossible any particular person could come at the\nknowledge of all the extraordinary cases that occurred in different\nfamilies; and particularly, I believe it was never known to this day how\nmany people in their deliriums drowned themselves in the Thames, and in\nthe river which runs from the marshes by Hackney, which we generally\ncalled Ware River or Hackney River. As to those which were set down in\nthe weekly bill, they were indeed few. Nor could it be known of any of\nthose, whether they drowned themselves by accident or not; but I believe\nI might reckon up more who, within the compass of my knowledge or\nobservation, really drowned themselves in that year than are put down in\nthe bill of all put together, for many of the bodies were never found\nwho yet were known to be lost; and the like in other methods of\nself-destruction. There was also one man in or about Whitecross Street\nburnt himself to death in his bed. Some said it was done by himself,\nothers that it was by the treachery of the nurse that attended him; but\nthat he had the plague upon him, was agreed by all.\nIt was a merciful disposition of Providence, also, and which I have many\ntimes thought of at that time, that no fires, or no considerable ones at\nleast, happened in the city during that year, which, if it had been\notherwise, would have been very dreadful; and either the people must\nhave let them alone unquenched, or have come together in great crowds\nand throngs, unconcerned at the danger of the infection, not concerned\nat the houses they went into, at the goods they handled, or at the\npersons or the people they came among. But so it was, that excepting\nthat in Cripplegate Parish, and two or three little eruptions of fires,\nwhich were presently extinguished, there was no disaster of that kind\nhappened in the whole year. They told us a story of a house in a place\ncalled Swan Alley, passing from Goswell Street near the end of Old\nStreet into St. John Street, that a family was infected there in so\nterrible a manner that every one of the house died. The last person lay\ndead on the floor, and, as it is supposed, had laid herself all along\nto die just before the fire. The fire, it seems, had fallen from its\nplace, being of wood, and had taken hold of the boards and the joists\nthey lay on, and burned as far as just to the body, but had not taken\nhold of the dead body, though she had little more than her shift on, and\nhad gone out of itself, not hurting the rest of the house, though it was\na slight timber house. How true this might be, I do not determine; but\nthe city being to suffer severely the next year by fire, this year it\nfelt very little of that calamity.\nIndeed, considering the deliriums which the agony threw people into, and\nhow I have mentioned in their madness, when they were alone, they did\nmany desperate things, it was very strange there were no more disasters\nof that kind.\nIt has been frequently asked me, and I cannot say that I ever knew how\nto give a direct answer to it, how it came to pass that so many infected\npeople appeared abroad in the streets at the same time that the houses\nwhich were infected were so vigilantly searched, and all of them shut up\nand guarded as they were.\nI confess I know not what answer to give to this, unless it be this:\nthat, in so great and populous a city as this is, it was impossible to\ndiscover every house that was infected as soon as it was so, or to shut\nup all the houses that were infected; so that people had the liberty of\ngoing about the streets, even where they pleased, unless they were known\nto belong to such and such infected houses.\nIt is true, that, as the several physicians told my lord mayor, the fury\nof the contagion was such at some particular times, and people sickened\nso fast and died so soon, that it was impossible, and indeed to no\npurpose, to go about to inquire who was sick and who was well, or to\nshut them up with such exactness as the thing required, almost every\nhouse in a whole street being infected, and in many places every person\nin some of the houses. And, that which was still worse, by the time that\nthe houses were known to be infected, most of the persons infected would\nbe stone dead, and the rest run away for fear of being shut up; so that\nit was to very small purpose to call them infected houses and shut them\nup, the infection having ravaged and taken its leave of the house before\nit was really known that the family was any way touched.\nThis might be sufficient to convince any reasonable person, that as it\nwas not in the power of the magistrates, or of any human methods or\npolicy, to prevent the spreading the infection, so that this way of\nshutting up of houses was perfectly insufficient for that end. Indeed,\nit seemed to have no manner of public good in it equal or proportionable\nto the grievous burthen that it was to the particular families that were\nso shut up; and, as far as I was employed by the public in directing\nthat severity, I frequently found occasion to see that it was incapable\nof answering the end. For example, as I was desired as a visitor or\nexaminer to inquire into the particulars of several families which were\ninfected, we scarce came to any house where the plague had visibly\nappeared in the family but that some of the family were fled and gone.\nThe magistrates would resent this, and charge the examiners with being\nremiss in their examination or inspection; but by that means houses were\nlong infected before it was known. Now, as I was in this dangerous\noffice but half the appointed time, which was two months, it was long\nenough to inform myself that we were no way capable of coming at the\nknowledge of the true state of any family but by inquiring at the door\nor of the neighbors. As for going into every house to search, that was a\npart no authority would offer to impose on the inhabitants, or any\ncitizen would undertake; for it would have been exposing us to certain\ninfection and death, and to the ruin of our own families as well as of\nourselves. Nor would any citizen of probity, and that could be depended\nupon, have staid in the town if they had been made liable to such a\nseverity.\nSeeing, then, that we could come at the certainty of things by no method\nbut that of inquiry of the neighbors or of the family (and on that we\ncould not justly depend), it was not possible but that the uncertainty\nof this matter would remain as above.\nIt is true, masters of families were bound by the order to give notice\nto the examiner of the place wherein he lived, within two hours after he\nshould discover it, of any person being sick in his house, that is to\nsay, having signs of the infection; but they found so many ways to evade\nthis, and excuse their negligence, that they seldom gave that notice\ntill they had taken measures to have every one escape out of the house\nwho had a mind to escape, whether they were sick or sound. And while\nthis was so, it was easy to see that the shutting up of houses was no\nway to be depended upon as a sufficient method for putting a stop to the\ninfection, because, as I have said elsewhere, many of those that so went\nout of those infected houses had the plague really upon them, though\nthey might really think themselves sound; and some of these were the\npeople that walked the streets till they fell down dead: not that they\nwere suddenly struck with the distemper, as with a bullet that killed\nwith the stroke, but that they really had the infection in their blood\nlong before, only that, as it preyed secretly on their vitals, it\nappeared not till it seized the heart with a mortal power, and the\npatient died in a moment, as with a sudden fainting or an apoplectic\nfit.\nI know that some, even of our physicians, thought for a time that those\npeople that so died in the streets were seized but that moment they\nfell, as if they had been touched by a stroke from heaven, as men are\nkilled by a flash of lightning; but they found reason to alter their\nopinion afterward, for, upon examining the bodies of such after they\nwere dead, they always either had tokens upon them, or other evident\nproofs of the distemper having been longer upon them than they had\notherwise expected.\nThis often was the reason that, as I have said, we that were examiners\nwere not able to come at the knowledge of the infection being entered\ninto a house till it was too late to shut it up, and sometimes not till\nthe people that were left were all dead. In Petticoat Lane two houses\ntogether were infected, and several people sick; but the distemper was\nso well concealed, the examiner, who was my neighbor, got no knowledge\nof it till notice was sent him that the people were all dead, and that\nthe carts should call there to fetch them away. The two heads of the\nfamilies concerted their measures, and so ordered their matters as that,\nwhen the examiner was in the neighborhood, they appeared generally at a\ntime, and answered, that is, lied for one another, or got some of the\nneighborhood to say they were all in health, and perhaps knew no better;\ntill, death making it impossible to keep it any longer as a secret, the\ndead carts were called in the night to both the houses, and so it became\npublic. But when the examiner ordered the constable to shut up the\nhouses, there was nobody left in them but three people (two in one\nhouse, and one in the other), just dying, and a nurse in each house, who\nacknowledged that they had buried five before, that the houses had been\ninfected nine or ten days, and that for all the rest of the two\nfamilies, which were many, they were gone, some sick, some well, or,\nwhether sick or well, could not be known.\nIn like manner, at another house in the same lane, a man, having his\nfamily infected, but very unwilling to be shut up, when he could conceal\nit no longer, shut up himself; that is to say, he set the great red\ncross upon the door, with the words, \"LORD, HAVE MERCY UPON US!\" and so\ndeluded the examiner, who supposed it had been done by the constable, by\norder of the other examiner (for there were two examiners to every\ndistrict or precinct). By this means he had free egress and regress into\nhis house again and out of it, as he pleased, notwithstanding it was\ninfected, till at length his stratagem was found out, and then he, with\nthe sound part of his family and servants, made off and escaped; so they\nwere not shut up at all.\nThese things made it very hard, if not impossible, as I have said, to\nprevent the spreading of an infection by the shutting up of houses,\nunless the people would think the shutting up of their houses no\ngrievance, and be so willing to have it done as that they would give\nnotice duly and faithfully to the magistrates of their being infected,\nas soon as it was known by themselves; but as that cannot be expected\nfrom them, and the examiners cannot be supposed, as above, to go into\ntheir houses to visit and search, all the good of shutting up houses\nwill be defeated, and few houses will be shut up in time, except those\nof the poor, who cannot conceal it, and of some people who will be\ndiscovered by the terror and consternation which the thing put them\ninto.\nI got myself discharged of the dangerous office I was in as soon as I\ncould get another admitted, whom I had obtained for a little money to\naccept of it; and so, instead of serving the two months, which was\ndirected, I was not above three weeks in it; and a great while too,\nconsidering it was in the month of August, at which time the distemper\nbegan to rage with great violence at our end of the town.\nIn the execution of this office, I could not refrain speaking my opinion\namong my neighbors as to the shutting up the people in their houses, in\nwhich we saw most evidently the severities that were used, though\ngrievous in themselves, had also this particular objection against them;\nnamely, that they did not answer the end, as I have said, but that the\ndistempered people went day by day about the streets. And it was our\nunited opinion that a method to have removed the sound from the sick, in\ncase of a particular house being visited, would have been much more\nreasonable on many accounts, leaving nobody with the sick persons but\nsuch as should, on such occasions, request to stay, and declare\nthemselves content to be shut up with them.\nOur scheme for removing those that were sound from those that were sick\nwas only in such houses as were infected; and confining the sick was no\nconfinement: those that could not stir would not complain while they\nwere in their senses, and while they had the power of judging. Indeed,\nwhen they came to be delirious and light-headed, then they would cry out\nof[243] the cruelty of being confined; but, for the removal of those\nthat were well, we thought it highly reasonable and just, for their own\nsakes, they should be removed from the sick, and that, for other\npeople's safety, they should keep retired for a while, to see that they\nwere sound, and might not infect others; and we thought twenty or thirty\ndays enough for this.\nNow, certainly, if houses had been provided on purpose for those that\nwere sound, to perform this demiquarantine in, they would have much less\nreason to think themselves injured in such a restraint than in being\nconfined with infected people in the houses where they lived.\nIt is here, however, to be observed, that after the funerals became so\nmany that people could not toll the bell, mourn or weep, or wear black\nfor one another, as they did before, no, nor so much as make coffins for\nthose that died, so, after a while, the fury of the infection appeared\nto be so increased, that, in short, they shut up no houses at all. It\nseemed enough that all the remedies of that kind had been used till they\nwere found fruitless, and that the plague spread itself with an\nirresistible fury; so that, as the fire the succeeding year spread\nitself and burnt with such violence that the citizens in despair gave\nover their endeavors to extinguish it, so in the plague it came at last\nto such violence, that the people sat still looking at one another, and\nseemed quite abandoned to despair. Whole streets seemed to be desolated,\nand not to be shut up only, but to be emptied of their inhabitants:\ndoors were left open, windows stood shattering with the wind in empty\nhouses, for want of people to shut them. In a word, people began to give\nup themselves to their fears, and to think that all regulations and\nmethods were in vain, and that there was nothing to be hoped for but an\nuniversal desolation. And it was even in the height of this general\ndespair that it pleased God to stay his hand, and to slacken the fury of\nthe contagion in such a manner as was even surprising, like its\nbeginning, and demonstrated it to be his own particular hand; and that\nabove, if not without the agency of means, as I shall take notice of in\nits proper place.\nBut I must still speak of the plague as in its height, raging even to\ndesolation, and the people under the most dreadful consternation, even,\nas I have said, to despair. It is hardly credible to what excesses the\npassions of men carried them in this extremity of the distemper; and\nthis part, I think, was as moving as the rest. What could affect a man\nin his full power of reflection, and what could make deeper impressions\non the soul, than to see a man almost naked, and got out of his house or\nperhaps out of his bed into the street, come out of Harrow Alley, a\npopulous conjunction or collection of alleys, courts, and passages, in\nthe Butcher Row in Whitechapel,--I say, what could be more affecting\nthan to see this poor man come out into the open street, run, dancing\nand singing, and making a thousand antic gestures, with five or six\nwomen and children running after him, crying and calling upon him for\nthe Lord's sake to come back, and entreating the help of others to bring\nhim back, but all in vain, nobody daring to lay a hand upon him, or to\ncome near him?\nThis was a most grievous and afflicting thing to me, who saw it all from\nmy own windows; for all this while the poor afflicted man was, as I\nobserved it, even then in the utmost agony of pain, having, as they\nsaid, two swellings upon him, which could not be brought to break or to\nsuppurate; but by laying strong caustics on them the surgeons had, it\nseems, hopes to break them, which caustics were then upon him, burning\nhis flesh as with a hot iron. I cannot say what became of this poor man,\nbut I think he continued roving about in that manner till he fell down\nand died.\nNo wonder the aspect of the city itself was frightful. The usual\nconcourse of the people in the streets, and which used to be supplied\nfrom our end of the town, was abated. The Exchange was not kept shut,\nindeed, but it was no more frequented. The fires were lost: they had\nbeen almost extinguished for some days by a very smart and hasty rain.\nBut that was not all. Some of the physicians insisted that they were not\nonly no benefit, but injurious to the health of the people. This they\nmade a loud clamor about, and complained to the lord mayor about it. On\nthe other hand, others of the same faculty, and eminent too, opposed\nthem, and gave their reasons why the fires were and must be useful to\nassuage the violence of the distemper. I cannot give a full account of\ntheir arguments on both sides; only this I remember, that they caviled\nvery much with one another. Some were for fires, but that they must be\nmade of wood and not coal, and of particular sorts of wood too, such as\nfir, in particular, or cedar, because of the strong effluvia of\nturpentine; others were for coal and not wood, because of the sulphur\nand bitumen; and others were neither for one or other. Upon the whole,\nthe lord mayor ordered no more fires, and especially on this account,\nnamely, that the plague was so fierce that they saw evidently it defied\nall means, and rather seemed to increase than decrease upon any\napplication to check and abate it; and yet this amazement of the\nmagistrates proceeded rather from want of being able to apply any means\nsuccessfully than from any unwillingness either to expose themselves or\nundertake the care and weight of business; for, to do them justice, they\nneither spared their pains nor their persons. But nothing answered. The\ninfection raged, and the people were now terrified to the last degree,\nso that, as I may say, they gave themselves up, and, as I mentioned\nabove, abandoned themselves to their despair.\nBut let me observe here, that when I say the people abandoned themselves\nto despair, I do not mean to what men call a religious despair, or a\ndespair of their eternal state; but I mean a despair of their being able\nto escape the infection, or to outlive the plague, which they saw was so\nraging, and so irresistible in its force, that indeed few people that\nwere touched with it in its height, about August and September, escaped;\nand, which is very particular, contrary to its ordinary operation in\nJune and July and the beginning of August, when, as I have observed,\nmany were infected, and continued so many days, and then went off, after\nhaving had the poison in their blood a long time. But now, on the\ncontrary, most of the people who were taken during the last two weeks in\nAugust, and in the first three weeks in September, generally died in two\nor three days at the farthest, and many the very same day they were\ntaken. Whether the dog days[244] (as our astrologers pretended to\nexpress themselves, the influence of the Dog Star) had that malignant\neffect, or all those who had the seeds of infection before in them\nbrought it up to a maturity at that time altogether, I know not; but\nthis was the time when it was reported that above three thousand people\ndied in one night; and they that would have us believe they more\ncritically observed it pretend to say that they all died within the\nspace of two hours, viz., between the hours of one and three in the\nmorning.\nAs to the suddenness of people dying at this time, more than before,\nthere were innumerable instances of it, and I could name several in my\nneighborhood. One family without the bars, and not far from me, were all\nseemingly well on the Monday, being ten in family. That evening one maid\nand one apprentice were taken ill, and died the next morning, when the\nother apprentice and two children were touched, whereof one died the\nsame evening and the other two on Wednesday. In a word, by Saturday at\nnoon the master, mistress, four children, and four servants were all\ngone, and the house left entirely empty, except an ancient woman, who\ncame to take charge of the goods for the master of the family's brother,\nwho lived not far off, and who had not been sick.\nMany houses were then left desolate, all the people being carried away\ndead; and especially in an alley farther on the same side beyond the\nbars, going in at the sign of Moses and Aaron.[245] There were several\nhouses together, which they said had not one person left alive in them;\nand some that died last in several of those houses were left a little\ntoo long before they were fetched out to be buried, the reason of which\nwas not, as some have written very untruly, that the living were not\nsufficient to bury the dead, but that the mortality was so great in the\nyard or alley that there was nobody left to give notice to the buriers\nor sextons that there were any dead bodies there to be buried. It was\nsaid, how true I know not, that some of those bodies were so corrupted\nand so rotten, that it was with difficulty they were carried; and, as\nthe carts could not come any nearer than to the alley gate in the High\nStreet, it was so much the more difficult to bring them along. But I am\nnot certain how many bodies were then left: I am sure that ordinarily it\nwas not so.\nAs I have mentioned how the people were brought into a condition to\ndespair of life, and abandoned themselves, so this very thing had a\nstrange effect among us for three or four weeks; that is, it made them\nbold and venturous. They were no more shy of one another, or restrained\nwithin doors, but went anywhere and everywhere, and began to converse.\nOne would say to another, \"I do not ask you how you are, or say how I\nam. It is certain we shall all go: so 'tis no matter who is sick or who\nis sound.\" And so they ran desperately into any place or company.\nAs it brought the people into public company, so it was surprising how\nit brought them to crowd into the churches. They inquired no more into\nwho[246] they sat near to or far from, what offensive smells they met\nwith, or what condition the people seemed to be in; but, looking upon\nthemselves all as so many dead corpses, they came to the churches\nwithout the least caution, and crowded together as if their lives were\nof no consequence compared to the work which they came about there.\nIndeed, the zeal which they showed in coming, and the earnestness and\naffection they showed in their attention to what they heard, made it\nmanifest what a value people would all put upon the worship of God if\nthey thought every day they attended at the church that it would be\ntheir last. Nor was it without other strange effects, for it took away\nall manner of prejudice at, or scruple about, the person whom they found\nin the pulpit when they came to the churches. It cannot be doubted but\nthat many of the ministers of the parish churches were cut off among\nothers in so common and dreadful a calamity; and others had not courage\nenough to stand it, but removed into the country as they found means for\nescape. As then some parish churches were quite vacant and forsaken, the\npeople made no scruple of desiring such dissenters as had been a few\nyears before deprived of their livings, by virtue of an act of\nParliament called the \"Act of Uniformity,\"[247] to preach in the\nchurches, nor did the church ministers in that case make any difficulty\nin accepting their assistance; so that many of those whom they called\nsilent ministers had their mouths opened on this occasion, and preached\npublicly to the people.\nHere we may observe, and I hope it will not be amiss to take notice of\nit, that a near view of death would soon reconcile men of good\nprinciples one to another, and that it is chiefly owing to our easy\nsituation in life, and our putting these things far from us, that our\nbreaches are fomented, ill blood continued, prejudices, breach of\ncharity and of Christian union so much kept and so far carried on among\nus as it is. Another plague year would reconcile all these differences;\na close conversing with death, or with diseases that threaten death,\nwould scum off the gall from our tempers, remove the animosities among\nus, and bring us to see with differing eyes than those which we looked\non things with before. As the people who had been used to join with the\nchurch were reconciled at this time with the admitting the dissenters to\npreach to them, so the dissenters, who, with an uncommon prejudice, had\nbroken off from the communion of the Church of England, were now content\nto come to their parish churches, and to conform to the worship which\nthey did not approve of before. But, as the terror of the infection\nabated, those things all returned again to their less desirable\nchannel, and to the course they were in before.\nI mention this but historically: I have no mind to enter into arguments\nto move either or both sides to a more charitable compliance one with\nanother. I do not see that it is probable such a discourse would be\neither suitable or successful; the breaches seem rather to widen, and\ntend to a widening farther, than to closing: and who am I, that I should\nthink myself able to influence either one side or other? But this I may\nrepeat again, that it is evident death will reconcile us all: on the\nother side the grave we shall be all brethren again. In heaven, whither\nI hope we may come from all parties and persuasions, we shall find\nneither prejudice nor scruple: there we shall be of one principle and of\none opinion. Why we cannot be content to go hand in hand to the place\nwhere we shall join heart and hand without the least hesitation, and\nwith the most complete harmony and affection,--I say, why we cannot do\nso here, I can say nothing to; neither shall I say anything more of it,\nbut that it remains to be lamented.\nI could dwell a great while upon the calamities of this dreadful time,\nand go on to describe the objects that appeared among us every day,--the\ndreadful extravagances which the distraction of sick people drove them\ninto; how the streets began now to be fuller of frightful objects, and\nfamilies to be made even a terror to themselves. But after I have told\nyou, as I have above, that one man being tied in his bed, and finding no\nother way to deliver himself, set the bed on fire with his candle (which\nunhappily stood within his reach), and burned himself in bed; and how\nanother, by the insufferable torment he bore, danced and sung naked in\nthe streets, not knowing one ecstasy[248] from another,--I say, after I\nhave mentioned these things, what can be added more? What can be said to\nrepresent the misery of these times more lively to the reader, or to\ngive him a perfect idea of a more complicated distress?\nI must acknowledge that this time was so terrible that I was sometimes\nat the end of all my resolutions, and that I had not the courage that I\nhad at the beginning. As the extremity brought other people abroad, it\ndrove me home; and, except having made my voyage down to Blackwall and\nGreenwich, as I have related, which was an excursion, I kept afterwards\nvery much within doors, as I had for about a fortnight before. I have\nsaid already that I repented several times that I had ventured to stay\nin town, and had not gone away with my brother and his family; but it\nwas too late for that now. And after I had retreated and staid within\ndoors a good while before my impatience led me abroad, then they called\nme, as I have said, to an ugly and dangerous office, which brought me\nout again; but as that was expired, while the height of the distemper\nlasted I retired again, and continued close ten or twelve days more,\nduring which many dismal spectacles represented themselves in my\nview,[249] out of my own windows, and in our own street, as that\nparticularly, from Harrow Alley, of the poor outrageous creature who\ndanced and sung in his agony; and many others there were. Scarce a day\nor a night passed over but some dismal thing or other happened at the\nend of that Harrow Alley, which was a place full of poor people, most of\nthem belonging to the butchers, or to employments depending upon the\nbutchery.\nSometimes heaps and throngs of people would burst out of the alley, most\nof them women, making a dreadful clamor, mixed or compounded of\nscreeches, cryings, and calling one another, that we could not conceive\nwhat to make of it. Almost all the dead part of the night,[250] the dead\ncart stood at the end of that alley; for if it went in, it could not\nwell turn again, and could go in but a little way. There, I say, it\nstood to receive dead bodies; and, as the churchyard was but a little\nway off, if it went away full, it would soon be back again. It is\nimpossible to describe the most horrible cries and noise the poor people\nwould make at their bringing the dead bodies of their children and\nfriends out to the cart; and, by the number, one would have thought\nthere had been none left behind, or that there were people enough for a\nsmall city living in those places. Several times they cried murder,\nsometimes fire; but it was easy to perceive that it was all distraction\nand the complaints of distressed and distempered people.\nI believe it was everywhere thus at that time, for the plague raged for\nsix or seven weeks beyond all that I have expressed, and came even to\nsuch a height, that, in the extremity, they began to break into that\nexcellent order of which I have spoken so much in behalf of the\nmagistrates, namely, that no dead bodies were seen in the streets, or\nburials in the daytime; for there was a necessity in this extremity to\nbear with its being otherwise for a little while.\nOne thing I cannot omit here, and indeed I thought it was extraordinary,\nat least it seemed a remarkable hand of divine justice; viz., that all\nthe predictors, astrologers, fortune tellers, and what they called\ncunning men, conjurers, and the like, calculators of nativities, and\ndreamers of dreams, and such people, were gone and vanished; not one of\nthem was to be found. I am verily persuaded that a great number of them\nfell in the heat of the calamity, having ventured to stay upon the\nprospect of getting great estates; and indeed their gain was but too\ngreat for a time, through the madness and folly of the people: but now\nthey were silent; many of them went to their long home, not able to\nforetell their own fate, or to calculate their own nativities. Some have\nbeen critical enough to say[251] that every one of them died. I dare not\naffirm that; but this I must own, that I never heard of one of them that\never appeared after the calamity was over.\nBut to return to my particular observations during this dreadful part\nof the visitation. I am now come, as I have said, to the month of\nSeptember, which was the most dreadful of its kind, I believe, that ever\nLondon saw; for, by all the accounts which I have seen of the preceding\nvisitations which have been in London, nothing has been like it, the\nnumber in the weekly bill amounting to almost forty thousands from the\n22d of August to the 26th of September, being but five weeks. The\nparticulars of the bills are as follows: viz.,--\nThis was a prodigious number of itself; but if I should add the reasons\nwhich I have to believe that this account was deficient, and how\ndeficient it was, you would with me make no scruple to believe that\nthere died above ten thousand a week for all those weeks, one week with\nanother, and a proportion for several weeks, both before and after. The\nconfusion among the people, especially within the city, at that time was\ninexpressible. The terror was so great at last, that the courage of the\npeople appointed to carry away the dead began to fail them; nay, several\nof them died, although they had the distemper before, and were\nrecovered; and some of them dropped down when they have been carrying\nthe bodies even at the pitside, and just ready to throw them in. And\nthis confusion was greater in the city, because they had flattered\nthemselves with hopes of escaping, and thought the bitterness of death\nwas past. One cart, they told us, going up Shoreditch, was forsaken by\nthe drivers, or, being left to one man to drive, he died in the street;\nand the horses, going on, overthrew the cart, and left the bodies, some\nthrown here, some there, in a dismal manner. Another cart was, it seems,\nfound in the great pit in Finsbury Fields, the driver being dead, or\nhaving been gone and abandoned it; and the horses running too near it,\nthe cart fell in, and drew the horses in also. It was suggested that the\ndriver was thrown in with it, and that the cart fell upon him, by reason\nhis whip was seen to be in the pit among the bodies; but that, I\nsuppose, could not be certain.\nIn our parish of Aldgate the dead carts were several times, as I have\nheard, found standing at the churchyard gate full of dead bodies, but\nneither bellman, or driver, or any one else, with it. Neither in these\nor many other cases did they know what bodies they had in their cart,\nfor sometimes they were let down with ropes out of balconies and out of\nwindows, and sometimes the bearers brought them to the cart, sometimes\nother people; nor, as the men themselves said, did they trouble\nthemselves to keep any account of the numbers.\nThe vigilance of the magistrate was now put to the utmost trial, and, it\nmust be confessed, can never be enough acknowledged on this occasion;\nalso, whatever expense or trouble they were at, two things were never\nneglected in the city or suburbs either:--\n1. Provisions were always to be had in full plenty, and the price not\nmuch raised neither, hardly worth speaking.\n2. No dead bodies lay unburied or uncovered; and if any one walked from\none end of the city to another, no funeral, or sign of it, was to be\nseen in the daytime, except a little, as I have said, in the first three\nweeks in September.\nThis last article, perhaps, will hardly be believed when some accounts\nwhich others have published since that shall be seen, wherein they say\nthat the dead lay unburied, which I am sure was utterly false; at least,\nif it had been anywhere so, it must have been in houses where the living\nwere gone from the dead, having found means, as I have observed, to\nescape, and where no notice was given to the officers. All which amounts\nto nothing at all in the case in hand; for this I am positive in, having\nmyself been employed a little in the direction of that part of the\nparish in which I lived, and where as great a desolation was made, in\nproportion to the number of the inhabitants, as was anywhere. I say, I\nam sure that there were no dead bodies remained unburied; that is to\nsay, none that the proper officers knew of, none for want of people to\ncarry them off, and buriers to put them into the ground and cover them.\nAnd this is sufficient to the argument; for what might lie in houses and\nholes, as in Moses and Aaron Alley, is nothing, for it is most certain\nthey were buried as soon as they were found. As to the first article,\nnamely, of provisions, the scarcity or dearness, though I have mentioned\nit before, and shall speak of it again, yet I must observe here.\n1. The price of bread in particular was not much raised; for in the\nbeginning of the year, viz., in the first week in March, the penny\nwheaten loaf was ten ounces and a half, and in the height of the\ncontagion it was to be had at nine ounces and a half, and never dearer,\nno, not all that season; and about the beginning of November it was sold\nat ten ounces and a half again, the like of which, I believe, was never\nheard of, in any city under so dreadful a visitation, before.\n2. Neither was there, which I wondered much at, any want of bakers or\novens kept open to supply the people with bread; but this was indeed\nalleged by some families, viz., that their maidservants, going to the\nbakehouses with their dough to be baked, which was then the custom,\nsometimes came home with the sickness, that is to say, the plague, upon\nthem.\nIn all this dreadful visitation there were, as I have said before, but\ntwo pesthouses made use of; viz., one in the fields beyond Old Street,\nand one in Westminster. Neither was there any compulsion used in\ncarrying people thither. Indeed, there was no need of compulsion in the\ncase, for there were thousands of poor distressed people, who having no\nhelp, or conveniences, or supplies, but of charity, would have been very\nglad to have been carried thither and been taken care of; which, indeed,\nwas the only thing that, I think, was wanting in the whole public\nmanagement of the city, seeing nobody was here allowed to be brought to\nthe pesthouse but where money was given, or security for money, either\nat their introducing,[252] or upon their being cured and sent out; for\nvery many were sent out again whole, and very good physicians were\nappointed to those places; so that many people did very well there, of\nwhich I shall make mention again. The principal sort of people sent\nthither were, as I have said, servants, who got the distemper by going\nof errands to fetch necessaries for the families where they lived, and\nwho, in that case, if they came home sick, were removed to preserve the\nrest of the house; and they were so well looked after there, in all the\ntime of the visitation, that there was but one hundred and fifty-six\nburied in all at the London pesthouse, and one hundred and fifty-nine at\nthat of Westminster.\nBy having more pesthouses, I am far from meaning a forcing all people\ninto such places. Had the shutting up of houses been omitted, and the\nsick hurried out of their dwellings to pesthouses, as some proposed it\nseems at that time as well as since, it[253] would certainly have been\nmuch worse than it was. The very removing the sick would have been a\nspreading of the infection, and the rather because that removing could\nnot effectually clear the house where the sick person was of the\ndistemper; and the rest of the family, being then left at liberty, would\ncertainly spread it among others.\nThe methods, also, in private families which would have been universally\nused to have concealed the distemper, and to have concealed the persons\nbeing sick, would have been such that the distemper would sometimes have\nseized a whole family before any visitors or examiners could have known\nof it. On the other hand, the prodigious numbers which would have been\nsick at a time would have exceeded all the capacity of public pesthouses\nto receive them, or of public officers to discover and remove them.\nThis was well considered in those days, and I have heard them talk of it\noften. The magistrates had enough to do to bring people to submit to\nhaving their houses shut up; and many ways they deceived the watchmen,\nand got out, as I observed. But that difficulty made it apparent that\nthey would have found it impracticable to have gone the other way to\nwork; for they could never have forced the sick people out of their beds\nand out of their dwellings: it must not have been my lord mayor's\nofficers, but an army of officers, that must have attempted it. And the\npeople, on the other hand, would have been enraged and desperate, and\nwould have killed those that should have offered to have meddled with\nthem or with their children and relations, whatever had befallen them\nfor it; so that they would have made the people (who, as it was, were in\nthe most terrible distraction imaginable), I say, they would have made\nthem stark mad: whereas the magistrates found it proper on several\noccasions to treat them with lenity and compassion, and not with\nviolence and terror, such as dragging the sick out of their houses, or\nobliging them to remove themselves, would have been.\nThis leads me again to mention the time when the plague first\nbegan,[254] that is to say, when it became certain that it would spread\nover the whole town, when, as I have said, the better sort of people\nfirst took the alarm, and began to hurry themselves out of town. It was\ntrue, as I observed in its place, that the throng was so great, and the\ncoaches, horses, wagons, and carts were so many, driving and dragging\nthe people away, that it looked as if all the city was running away; and\nhad any regulations been published that had been terrifying at that\ntime, especially such as would pretend to dispose of the people\notherwise than they would dispose of themselves, it would have put both\nthe city and suburbs into the utmost confusion.\nThe magistrates wisely caused the people to be encouraged, made very\ngood by-laws[255] for the regulating the citizens, keeping good order in\nthe streets, and making everything as eligible as possible to all sorts\nof people.\nIn the first place, the lord mayor and the sheriffs,[256] the court of\naldermen, and a certain number of the common councilmen, or their\ndeputies, came to a resolution, and published it; viz., that they would\nnot quit the city themselves, but that they would be always at hand for\nthe preserving good order in every place, and for doing justice on all\noccasions, as also for the distributing the public charity to the poor,\nand, in a word, for the doing the duty and discharging the trust reposed\nin them by the citizens, to the utmost of their power.\nIn pursuance of these orders, the lord mayor, sheriffs, etc., held\ncouncils every day, more or less, for making such dispositions as they\nfound needful for preserving the civil peace; and though they used the\npeople with all possible gentleness and clemency, yet all manner of\npresumptuous rogues, such as thieves, housebreakers, plunderers of the\ndead or of the sick, were duly punished; and several declarations were\ncontinually published by the lord mayor and court of aldermen against\nsuch.\nAlso all constables and churchwardens were enjoined to stay in the city\nupon severe penalties, or to depute such able and sufficient\nhousekeepers as the deputy aldermen or common councilmen of the precinct\nshould approve, and for whom they should give security, and also\nsecurity, in case of mortality, that they would forthwith constitute\nother constables in their stead.\nThese things re\u00ebstablished the minds of the people very much, especially\nin the first of their fright, when they talked of making so universal a\nflight that the city would have been in danger of being entirely\ndeserted of its inhabitants, except the poor, and the country of being\nplundered and laid waste by the multitude. Nor were the magistrates\ndeficient in performing their part as boldly as they promised it; for my\nlord mayor and the sheriffs were continually in the streets and at\nplaces of the greatest danger; and though they did not care for having\ntoo great a resort of people crowding about them, yet in emergent cases\nthey never denied the people access to them, and heard with patience\nall their grievances and complaints. My lord mayor had a low gallery\nbuilt on purpose in his hall, where he stood, a little removed from the\ncrowd, when any complaint came to be heard, that he might appear with as\nmuch safety as possible.\nLikewise the proper officers, called my lord mayor's officers,\nconstantly attended in their turns, as they were in waiting; and if any\nof them were sick or infected, as some of them were, others were\ninstantly employed to fill up, and officiate in their places till it was\nknown whether the other should live or die.\nIn like manner the sheriffs and aldermen did,[257] in their several\nstations and wards, where they were placed by office; and the sheriff's\nofficers or sergeants were appointed to receive orders from the\nrespective aldermen in their turn; so that justice was executed in all\ncases without interruption. In the next place, it was one of their\nparticular cares to see the orders for the freedom of the markets\nobserved; and in this part either the lord mayor, or one or both of the\nsheriffs, were every market day on horseback to see their orders\nexecuted, and to see that the country people had all possible\nencouragement and freedom in their coming to the markets and going back\nagain, and that no nuisance or frightful object should be seen in the\nstreets to terrify them, or make them unwilling to come. Also the bakers\nwere taken under particular order, and the master of the Bakers' Company\nwas, with his court of assistants, directed to see the order of my lord\nmayor for their regulation put in execution, and the due assize[258] of\nbread, which was weekly appointed by my lord mayor, observed; and all\nthe bakers were obliged to keep their ovens going constantly, on pain of\nlosing the privileges of a freeman of the city of London.\nBy this means, bread was always to be had in plenty, and as cheap as\nusual, as I said above; and provisions were never wanting in the\nmarkets, even to such a degree that I often wondered at it, and\nreproached myself with being so timorous and cautious in stirring\nabroad, when the country people came freely and boldly to market, as if\nthere had been no manner of infection in the city, or danger of catching\nit.\nIt was indeed one admirable piece of conduct in the said magistrates,\nthat the streets were kept constantly clear and free from all manner of\nfrightful objects, dead bodies, or any such things as were indecent or\nunpleasant; unless where anybody fell down suddenly, or died in the\nstreets, as I have said above, and these were generally covered with\nsome cloth or blanket, or removed into the next churchyard till night.\nAll the needful works that carried terror with them, that were both\ndismal and dangerous, were done in the night. If any diseased bodies\nwere removed, or dead bodies buried, or infected clothes burned, it was\ndone in the night; and all the bodies which were thrown into the great\npits in the several churchyards or burying grounds, as has been\nobserved, were so removed in the night, and everything was covered and\nclosed before day. So that in the daytime there was not the least signal\nof the calamity to be seen or heard of, except what was to be observed\nfrom the emptiness of the streets, and sometimes from the passionate\noutcries and lamentations of the people, out at their windows, and from\nthe numbers of houses and shops shut up.\nNor was the silence and emptiness of the streets so much in the city as\nin the outparts, except just at one particular time, when, as I have\nmentioned, the plague came east, and spread over all the city. It was\nindeed a merciful disposition of God, that as the plague began at one\nend of the town first, as has been observed at large, so it proceeded\nprogressively to other parts, and did not come on this way, or eastward,\ntill it had spent its fury in the west part of the town; and so as it\ncame on one way it abated another. For example:--\nIt began at St. Giles's and the Westminster end of the town, and it was\nin its height in all that part by about the middle of July, viz., in St.\nGiles-in-the-Fields, St. Andrew's, Holborn, St. Clement's-Danes, St.\nMartin's-in-the-Fields, and in Westminster. The latter end of July it\ndecreased in those parishes, and, coming east, it increased prodigiously\nin Cripplegate, St. Sepulchre's, St. James's, Clerkenwell, and St.\nBride's and Aldersgate. While it was in all these parishes, the city and\nall the parishes of the Southwark side of the water, and all Stepney,\nWhitechapel, Aldgate, Wapping, and Ratcliff, were very little touched;\nso that people went about their business unconcerned, carried on their\ntrades, kept open their shops, and conversed freely with one another in\nall the city, the east and northeast suburbs, and in Southwark, almost\nas if the plague had not been among us.\nEven when the north and northwest suburbs were fully infected, viz.,\nCripplegate, Clerkenwell, Bishopsgate, and Shoreditch, yet still all the\nrest were tolerably well. For example:--\nFrom the 25th of July to the 1st of August the bill stood thus of all\ndiseases:--\n    St. Giles's, Cripplegate               554\n    All the 97 parishes within the walls   228\n    All the parishes in Southwark          205\nSo that, in short, there died more that week in the two parishes of\nCripplegate and St. Sepulchre's by forty-eight than all the city, all\nthe east suburbs, and all the Southwark parishes put together. This\ncaused the reputation of the city's health to continue all over England,\nand especially in the counties and markets adjacent, from whence our\nsupply of provisions chiefly came, even much longer than that health\nitself continued; for when the people came into the streets from the\ncountry by Shoreditch and Bishopsgate, or by Old Street and Smithfield,\nthey would see the outstreets empty, and the houses and shops shut, and\nthe few people that were stirring there walk in the middle of the\nstreets; but when they came within the city, there things looked better,\nand the markets and shops were open, and the people walking about the\nstreets as usual, though not quite so many; and this continued till the\nlatter end of August and the beginning of September.\nBut then the case altered quite; the distemper abated in the west and\nnorthwest parishes, and the weight of the infection lay on the city and\nthe eastern suburbs, and the Southwark side, and this in a frightful\nmanner.\nThen indeed the city began to look dismal, shops to be shut, and the\nstreets desolate. In the High Street, indeed, necessity made people stir\nabroad on many occasions; and there would be in the middle of the day a\npretty many[259] people, but in the mornings and evenings scarce any to\nbe seen even there, no, not in Cornhill and Cheapside.\nThese observations of mine were abundantly confirmed by the weekly bills\nof mortality for those weeks, an abstract of which, as they respect the\nparishes which I have mentioned, and as they make the calculations I\nspeak of very evident, take as follows.\nThe weekly bill which makes out this decrease of the burials in the west\nand north side of the city stands thus:--\n    St. Giles's, Cripplegate               456\n    St. Leonard, Shoreditch                183\n    In the 97 parishes within the walls  1,493\n    In the 8 parishes on Southwark side  1,636\nHere is a strange change of things indeed, and a sad change it was;\nand, had it held for two months more than it did, very few people would\nhave been left alive; but then such, I say, was the merciful disposition\nof God, that when it was thus, the west and north part, which had been\nso dreadfully visited at first, grew, as you see, much better; and, as\nthe people disappeared here, they began to look abroad again there; and\nthe next week or two altered it still more, that is, more to the\nencouragement of the other part of the town. For example:--\n    St. Giles's, Cripplegate               277\n    St. Leonard, Shoreditch                146\n    In the 97 parishes within the walls  1,268\n    In the 8 parishes on Southwark side  1,390\n    St. Giles's, Cripplegate               196\n    St. Leonard, Shoreditch                128\n    In the 97 parishes within the walls  1,149\n    In the 8 parishes on Southwark side  1,201\nAnd now the misery of the city, and of the said east and south parts,\nwas complete indeed; for, as you see, the weight of the distemper lay\nupon those parts, that is to say, the city, the eight parishes over the\nriver, with the parishes of Aldgate, Whitechapel, and Stepney, and this\nwas the time that the bills came up to such a monstrous height as that I\nmentioned before, and that eight or nine, and, as I believe, ten or\ntwelve thousand a week died; for it is my settled opinion that they[260]\nnever could come at any just account of the numbers, for the reasons\nwhich I have given already.\nNay, one of the most eminent physicians, who has since published in\nLatin an account of those times and of his observations, says that in\none week there died twelve thousand people, and that particularly there\ndied four thousand in one night; though I do not remember that there\never was any such particular night so remarkably fatal as that such a\nnumber died in it. However, all this confirms what I have said above of\nthe uncertainty of the bills of mortality, etc., of which I shall say\nmore hereafter.\nAnd here let me take leave to enter again, though it may seem a\nrepetition of circumstances, into a description of the miserable\ncondition of the city itself, and of those parts where I lived, at this\nparticular time. The city, and those other parts, notwithstanding the\ngreat numbers of people that were gone into the country, was[261] vastly\nfull of people; and perhaps the fuller because people had for a long\ntime a strong belief that the plague would not come into the city, nor\ninto Southwark, no, nor into Wapping or Ratcliff at all; nay, such was\nthe assurance of the people on that head, that many removed from the\nsuburbs on the west and north sides into those eastern and south sides\nas for safety, and, as I verily believe, carried the plague amongst them\nthere, perhaps sooner than they would otherwise have had it.\nHere, also, I ought to leave a further remark for the use of posterity,\nconcerning the manner of people's infecting one another; namely, that it\nwas not the sick people only from whom the plague was immediately\nreceived by others that were sound, but the well. To explain myself: by\nthe sick people, I mean those who were known to be sick, had taken\ntheir beds, had been under cure, or had swellings or tumors upon them,\nand the like. These everybody could beware of: they were either in their\nbeds, or in such condition as could not be concealed.\nBy the well, I mean such as had received the contagion, and had it\nreally upon them and in their blood, yet did not show the consequences\nof it in their countenances; nay, even were not sensible of it\nthemselves, as many were not for several days. These breathed death in\nevery place, and upon everybody who came near them; nay, their very\nclothes retained the infection; their hands would infect the things they\ntouched, especially if they were warm and sweaty, and they were\ngenerally apt to sweat, too.\nNow, it was impossible to know these people, nor did they sometimes, as\nI have said, know themselves, to be infected. These were the people that\nso often dropped down and fainted in the streets; for oftentimes they\nwould go about the streets to the last, till on a sudden they would\nsweat, grow faint, sit down at a door, and die. It is true, finding\nthemselves thus, they would struggle hard to get home to their own\ndoors, or at other times would be just able to go into their houses, and\ndie instantly. Other times they would go about till they had the very\ntokens come out upon them, and yet not know it, and would die in an hour\nor two after they came home, but be well as long as they were abroad.\nThese were the dangerous people; these were the people of whom the well\npeople ought to have been afraid: but then, on the other side, it was\nimpossible to know them.\nAnd this is the reason why it is impossible in a visitation to prevent\nthe spreading of the plague by the utmost human vigilance; viz., that it\nis impossible to know the infected people from the sound, or that the\ninfected people should perfectly know themselves. I knew a man who\nconversed freely in London all the season of the plague in 1665, and\nkept about him an antidote or cordial, on purpose to take when he\nthought himself in any danger; and he had such a rule to know, or have\nwarning of the danger by, as indeed I never met with before or since:\nhow far it may be depended on, I know not. He had a wound in his leg;\nand whenever he came among any people that were not sound, and the\ninfection began to affect him, he said he could know it by that signal,\nviz., that the wound in his leg would smart, and look pale and white: so\nas soon as ever he felt it smart it was time for him to withdraw, or to\ntake care of himself, taking his drink, which he always carried about\nhim for that purpose. Now, it seems he found his wound would smart many\ntimes when he was in company with such who thought themselves to be\nsound, and who appeared so to one another; but he would presently rise\nup, and say publicly, \"Friends, here is somebody in the room that has\nthe plague,\" and so would immediately break up the company. This was,\nindeed, a faithful monitor to all people, that the plague is not to be\navoided by those that converse promiscuously in a town infected, and\npeople have it when they know it not, and that they likewise give it to\nothers when they know not that they have it themselves; and in this\ncase, shutting up the well or removing the sick will not do it, unless\nthey can go back and shut up all those that the sick had conversed with,\neven before they knew themselves to be sick; and none knows how far to\ncarry that back, or where to stop, for none knows when, or where, or\nhow, they may have received the infection, or from whom.\nThis I take to be the reason which makes so many people talk of the air\nbeing corrupted and infected, and that they need not be cautious of whom\nthey converse with, for that the contagion was in the air. I have seen\nthem in strange agitations and surprises on this account. \"I have never\ncome near any infected body,\" says the disturbed person; \"I have\nconversed with none but sound healthy people, and yet I have gotten the\ndistemper.\" \"I am sure I am struck from Heaven,\" says another, and he\nfalls to the serious part.[262] Again the first goes on exclaiming, \"I\nhave come near no infection, or any infected person; I am sure it is in\nthe air; we draw in death when we breathe, and therefore it is the hand\nof God: there is no withstanding it.\" And this at last made many people,\nbeing hardened to the danger, grow less concerned at it, and less\ncautious towards the latter end of the time, and when it was come to its\nheight, than they were at first. Then, with a kind of a Turkish\npredestinarianism,[263] they would say, if it pleased God to strike\nthem, it was all one whether they went abroad, or staid at home: they\ncould not escape it. And therefore they went boldly about, even into\ninfected houses and infected company, visited sick people, and, in\nshort, lay in the beds with their wives or relations when they were\ninfected. And what was the consequence but the same that is the\nconsequence in Turkey, and in those countries where they do those\nthings, namely, that they were infected too, and died by hundreds and\nthousands?\nI would be far from lessening the awe of the judgments of God, and the\nreverence to his providence, which ought always to be on our minds on\nsuch occasions as these. Doubtless the visitation itself is a stroke\nfrom Heaven upon a city, or country, or nation, where it falls; a\nmessenger of his vengeance, and a loud call to that nation, or country,\nor city, to humiliation and repentance, according to that of the prophet\nJeremiah (xviii. 7, 8): \"At what instant I shall speak concerning a\nnation, and concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, and to pull down, and to\ndestroy it; if that nation, against whom I have pronounced, turn from\ntheir evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to do unto them.\"\nNow, to prompt due impressions of the awe of God on the minds of men on\nsuch occasions, and not to lessen them, it is that I have left those\nminutes upon record.\nI say, therefore, I reflect upon no man for putting the reason of those\nthings upon the immediate hand of God and the appointment and direction\nof his providence; nay, on the contrary, there were many wonderful\ndeliverances of persons from infection, and deliverances of persons\nwhen infected, which intimate singular and remarkable providence in the\nparticular instances to which they refer; and I esteem my own\ndeliverance to be one next to miraculous, and do record it with\nthankfulness.\nBut when I am speaking of the plague as a distemper arising from natural\ncauses, we must consider it as it was really propagated by natural\nmeans. Nor is it at all the less a judgment for its being under the\nconduct of human causes and effects; for as the Divine Power has formed\nthe whole scheme of nature, and maintains nature in its course, so the\nsame Power thinks fit to let his own actings with men, whether of mercy\nor judgment, to go on in the ordinary course of natural causes, and he\nis pleased to act by those natural causes as the ordinary means,\nexcepting and reserving to himself, nevertheless, a power to act in a\nsupernatural way when he sees occasion. Now it is evident, that, in the\ncase of an infection, there is no apparent extraordinary occasion for\nsupernatural operation; but the ordinary course of things appears\nsufficiently armed, and made capable of all the effects that Heaven\nusually directs by a contagion. Among these causes and effects, this of\nthe secret conveyance of infection, imperceptible and unavoidable, is\nmore than sufficient to execute the fierceness of divine vengeance,\nwithout putting it upon supernaturals and miracles.\nThe acute, penetrating nature of the disease itself was such, and the\ninfection was received so imperceptibly, that the most exact caution\ncould not secure us while in the place; but I must be allowed to\nbelieve--and I have so many examples fresh in my memory to convince me\nof it, that I think none can resist their evidence,--I say, I must be\nallowed to believe that no one in this whole nation ever received the\nsickness or infection, but who received it in the ordinary way of\ninfection from somebody, or the clothes, or touch, or stench of\nsomebody, that was infected before.\nThe manner of its first coming to London proves this also, viz., by\ngoods brought over from Holland, and brought thither from the Levant;\nthe first breaking of it out in a house in Longacre where those goods\nwere carried and first opened; its spreading from that house to other\nhouses by the visible unwary conversing with those who were sick, and\nthe infecting the parish officers who were employed about persons dead;\nand the like. These are known authorities for this great foundation\npoint, that it went on and proceeded from person to person, and from\nhouse to house, and no otherwise. In the first house that was infected,\nthere died four persons. A neighbor, hearing the mistress of the first\nhouse was sick, went to visit her, and went home and gave the distemper\nto her family, and died, and all her household. A minister called to\npray with the first sick person in the second house was said to sicken\nimmediately, and die, with several more in his house. Then the\nphysicians began to consider, for they did not at first dream of a\ngeneral contagion; but the physicians being sent to inspect the bodies,\nthey assured the people that it was neither more or less than the\nplague, with all its terrifying particulars, and that it threatened an\nuniversal infection; so many people having already conversed with the\nsick or distempered, and having, as might be supposed, received\ninfection from them, that it would be impossible to put a stop to it.\nHere the opinion of the physicians agreed with my observation\nafterwards, namely, that the danger was spreading insensibly: for the\nsick could infect none but those that came within reach of the sick\nperson; but that one man, who may have really received the infection,\nand knows it not, but goes abroad and about as a sound person, may give\nthe plague to a thousand people, and they to greater numbers in\nproportion, and neither the person giving the infection, nor the persons\nreceiving it, know anything of it, and perhaps not feel the effects of\nit for several days after. For example:--\nMany persons, in the time of this visitation, never perceived that they\nwere infected till they found, to their unspeakable surprise, the tokens\ncome out upon them, after which they seldom lived six hours; for those\nspots they called the tokens were really gangrene spots, or mortified\nflesh, in small knobs as broad as a little silver penny, and hard as a\npiece of callus[264] or horn; so that when the disease was come up to\nthat length, there was nothing could follow but certain death. And yet,\nas I said, they knew nothing of their being infected, nor found\nthemselves so much as out of order, till those mortal marks were upon\nthem. But everybody must allow that they were infected in a high degree\nbefore, and must have been so some time; and consequently their breath,\ntheir sweat, their very clothes, were contagious for many days before.\nThis occasioned a vast variety of cases, which physicians would have\nmuch more opportunity to remember than I; but some came within the\ncompass of my observation or hearing, of which I shall name a few.\nA certain citizen who had lived safe and untouched till the month of\nSeptember, when the weight of the distemper lay more in the city than it\nhad done before, was mighty cheerful, and something too bold, as I think\nit was, in his talk of how secure he was, how cautious he had been, and\nhow he had never come near any sick body. Says another citizen, a\nneighbor of his, to him one day, \"Do not be too confident, Mr. ----: it\nis hard to say who is sick and who is well; for we see men alive and\nwell to outward appearance one hour, and dead the next.\"--\"That is\ntrue,\" says the first man (for he was not a man presumptuously secure,\nbut had escaped a long while; and men, as I have said above, especially\nin the city, began to be overeasy on that score),--\"that is true,\" says\nhe. \"I do not think myself secure; but I hope I have not been in company\nwith any person that there has been any danger in.\"--\"No!\" says his\nneighbor. \"Was not you at the Bull Head Tavern in Gracechurch Street,\nwith Mr. ----, the night before last?\"--\"Yes,\" says the first, \"I was;\nbut there was nobody there that we had any reason to think dangerous.\"\nUpon which his neighbor said no more, being unwilling to surprise him.\nBut this made him more inquisitive, and, as his neighbor appeared\nbackward, he was the more impatient; and in a kind of warmth says he\naloud, \"Why, he is not dead, is he?\" Upon which his neighbor still was\nsilent, but cast up his eyes, and said something to himself; at which\nthe first citizen turned pale, and said no more but this, \"Then I am a\ndead man too!\" and went home immediately, and sent for a neighboring\napothecary to give him something preventive, for he had not yet found\nhimself ill. But the apothecary, opening his breast, fetched a sigh, and\nsaid no more but this, \"Look up to God.\" And the man died in a few\nhours.\nNow, let any man judge from a case like this if it is possible for the\nregulations of magistrates, either by shutting up the sick or removing\nthem, to stop an infection which spreads itself from man to man even\nwhile they are perfectly well, and insensible of its approach, and may\nbe so for many days.\nIt may be proper to ask here how long it may be supposed men might have\nthe seeds of the contagion in them before it discovered[265] itself in\nthis fatal manner, and how long they might go about seemingly whole, and\nyet be contagious to all those that came near them. I believe the most\nexperienced physicians cannot answer this question directly any more\nthan I can; and something an ordinary observer may take notice of which\nmay pass their observation. The opinion of physicians abroad seems to\nbe, that it may lie dormant in the spirits, or in the blood vessels, a\nvery considerable time: why else do they exact a quarantine of those who\ncome into their harbors and ports from suspected places? Forty days is,\none would think, too long for nature to struggle with such an enemy as\nthis, and not conquer it or yield to it; but I could not think by my own\nobservation that they can be infected, so as to be contagious to others,\nabove fifteen or sixteen days at farthest; and on that score it was,\nthat when a house was shut up in the city, and any one had died of the\nplague, but nobody appeared to be ill in the family for sixteen or\neighteen days after, they were not so strict but that they[266] would\nconnive at their going privately abroad; nor would people be much afraid\nof them afterwards, but rather think they were fortified the better,\nhaving not been vulnerable when the enemy was in their house: but we\nsometimes found it had lain much longer concealed.\nUpon the foot of all these observations I must say, that, though\nProvidence seemed to direct my conduct to be otherwise, it is my\nopinion, and I must leave it as a prescription, viz., that the best\nphysic against the plague is to run away from it. I know people\nencourage themselves by saying, \"God is able to keep us in the midst of\ndanger, and able to overtake us when we think ourselves out of danger;\"\nand this kept thousands in the town whose carcasses went into the great\npits by cartloads, and who, if they had fled from the danger, had, I\nbelieve, been safe from the disaster: at least, 'tis probable they had\nbeen safe.\nAnd were this very fundamental[267] only duly considered by the people\non any future occasion of this or the like nature, I am persuaded it\nwould put them upon quite different measures for managing the people\nfrom those that they took in 1665, or than any that have been taken\nabroad that I have heard of: in a word, they would consider of\nseparating the people into smaller bodies, and removing them in time\nfarther from one another, and not let such a contagion as this, which is\nindeed chiefly dangerous to collected bodies of people, find a million\nof people in a body together, as was very near the case before, and\nwould certainly be the case if it should ever appear again.\nThe plague, like a great fire, if a few houses only are contiguous where\nit happens, can only[268] burn a few houses; or if it begins in a\nsingle, or, as we call it, a lone house, can only burn that lone house\nwhere it begins; but if it begins in a close-built town or city, and\ngets ahead, there its fury increases, it rages over the whole place, and\nconsumes all it can reach.\nI could propose many schemes on the foot of which the government of\nthis city, if ever they should be under the apprehension of such another\nenemy, (God forbid they should!) might ease themselves of the greatest\npart of the dangerous people that belong to them: I mean such as the\nbegging, starving, laboring poor, and among them chiefly those who, in a\ncase of siege, are called the useless mouths; who, being then prudently,\nand to their own advantage, disposed of, and the wealthy inhabitants\ndisposing of themselves, and of their servants and children, the city\nand its adjacent parts would be so effectually evacuated that there\nwould not be above a tenth part of its people left together for the\ndisease to take hold upon. But suppose them to be a fifth part, and that\ntwo hundred and fifty thousand people were left; and if it did seize\nupon them, they would, by their living so much at large, be much better\nprepared to defend themselves against the infection, and be less liable\nto the effects of it, than if the same number of people lived close\ntogether in one smaller city, such as Dublin, or Amsterdam, or the like.\nIt is true, hundreds, yea thousands, of families fled away at this last\nplague; but then of them many fled too late, and not only died in their\nflight, but carried the distemper with them into the countries where\nthey went, and infected those whom they went among for safety; which\nconfounded[269] the thing, and made that be a propagation of the\ndistemper which was the best means to prevent it. And this, too, is\nevident of it, and brings me back to what I only hinted at before, but\nmust speak more fully to here, namely, that men went about apparently\nwell many days after they had the taint of the disease in their vitals,\nand after their spirits were so seized as that they could never escape\nit; and that, all the while they did so, they were dangerous to others.\nI say, this proves that so it was; for such people infected the very\ntowns they went through, as well as the families they went among; and it\nwas by that means that almost all the great towns in England had the\ndistemper among them more or less, and always they would tell you such\na Londoner or such a Londoner brought it down.\nIt must not be omitted,[270] that when I speak of those people who were\nreally thus dangerous, I suppose them to be utterly ignorant of their\nown condition; for if they really knew their circumstances to be such as\nindeed they were, they must have been a kind of willful murderers if\nthey would have gone abroad among healthy people, and it would have\nverified indeed the suggestion which I mentioned above, and which I\nthought seemed untrue, viz., that the infected people were utterly\ncareless as to giving the infection to others, and rather forward to do\nit than not; and I believe it was partly from this very thing that they\nraised that suggestion, which I hope was not really true in fact.\nI confess no particular case is sufficient to prove a general; but I\ncould name several people, within the knowledge of some of their\nneighbors and families yet living, who showed the contrary to an\nextreme. One man, the master of a family in my neighborhood, having had\nthe distemper, he thought he had it given him by a poor workman whom he\nemployed, and whom he went to his house to see, or went for some work\nthat he wanted to have finished; and he had some apprehensions even\nwhile he was at the poor workman's door, but did not discover it[271]\nfully; but the next day it discovered itself, and he was taken very ill,\nupon which he immediately caused himself to be carried into an\noutbuilding which he had in his yard, and where there was a chamber over\na workhouse, the man being a brazier. Here he lay, and here he died, and\nwould be tended by none of his neighbors but by a nurse from abroad, and\nwould not suffer his wife, nor children, nor servants, to come up into\nthe room, lest they should be infected, but sent them his blessing and\nprayers for them by the nurse, who spoke it to them at a distance; and\nall this for fear of giving them the distemper, and without which, he\nknew, as they were kept up, they could not have it.\nAnd here I must observe also that the plague, as I suppose all\ndistempers do, operated in a different manner on differing\nconstitutions. Some were immediately overwhelmed with it, and it came to\nviolent fevers, vomitings, insufferable headaches, pains in the back,\nand so up to ravings and ragings with those pains; others with swellings\nand tumors in the neck or groin, or armpits, which, till they could be\nbroke, put them into insufferable agonies and torment; while others, as\nI have observed, were silently infected, the fever preying upon their\nspirits insensibly, and they seeing little of it till they fell into\nswooning and faintings, and death without pain.\nI am not physician enough to enter into the particular reasons and\nmanner of these differing effects of one and the same distemper, and of\nits differing operation in several bodies; nor is it my business here to\nrecord the observations which I really made, because the doctors\nthemselves have done that part much more effectually than I can do, and\nbecause my opinion may in some things differ from theirs. I am only\nrelating what I know, or have heard, or believe, of the particular\ncases, and what fell within the compass of my view, and the different\nnature of the infection as it appeared in the particular cases which I\nhave related; but this may be added too, that though the former sort of\nthose cases, namely, those openly visited, were the worst for themselves\nas to pain (I mean those that had such fevers, vomitings, headaches,\npains, and swellings), because they died in such a dreadful manner, yet\nthe latter had the worst state of the disease; for in the former they\nfrequently recovered, especially if the swellings broke; but the latter\nwas inevitable death. No cure, no help, could be possible; nothing could\nfollow but death. And it was worse, also, to others; because, as above,\nit secretly and unperceived by others or by themselves, communicated\ndeath to those they conversed with, the penetrating poison insinuating\nitself into their blood in a manner which it was impossible to describe,\nor indeed conceive.\nThis infecting and being infected without so much as its being known to\neither person is evident from two sorts of cases which frequently\nhappened at that time; and there is hardly anybody living, who was in\nLondon during the infection, but must have known several of the cases of\nboth sorts.\n1. Fathers and mothers have gone about as if they had been well, and\nhave believed themselves to be so, till they have insensibly infected\nand been the destruction of their whole families; which they would have\nbeen far from doing if they had had the least apprehensions of their\nbeing unsound and dangerous themselves. A family, whose story I have\nheard, was thus infected by the father, and the distemper began to\nappear upon some of them even before he found it upon himself; but,\nsearching more narrowly, it appeared he had been infected some time,\nand, as soon as he found that his family had been poisoned by himself,\nhe went distracted, and would have laid violent hands upon himself, but\nwas kept from that by those who looked to him; and in a few days he\ndied.\n2. The other particular is, that many people, having been well to the\nbest of their own judgment, or by the best observation which they could\nmake of themselves for several days, and only finding a decay of\nappetite, or a light sickness upon their stomachs,--nay, some whose\nappetite has been strong, and even craving, and only a light pain in\ntheir heads,--have sent for physicians to know what ailed them, and have\nbeen found, to their great surprise, at the brink of death, the tokens\nupon them, or the plague grown up to an incurable height.\nIt was very sad to reflect how such a person as this last mentioned\nabove had been a walking destroyer, perhaps for a week or fortnight\nbefore that; how he had ruined those that he would have hazarded his\nlife to save, and had been breathing death upon them, even perhaps in\nhis tender kissing and embracings of his own children. Yet thus\ncertainly it was, and often has been, and I could give many particular\ncases where it has been so. If, then, the blow is thus insensibly\nstriking; if the arrow flies thus unseen, and cannot be discovered,--to\nwhat purpose are all the schemes for shutting up or removing the sick\npeople? Those schemes cannot take place but upon those that appear to\nbe sick or to be infected; whereas there are among them at the same time\nthousands of people who seem to be well, but are all that while carrying\ndeath with them into all companies which they come into.\nThis frequently puzzled our physicians, and especially the apothecaries\nand surgeons, who knew not how to discover the sick from the sound. They\nall allowed that it was really so; that many people had the plague in\ntheir very blood, and preying upon their spirits, and were in themselves\nbut walking putrefied carcasses, whose breath was infectious, and their\nsweat poison, and yet were as well to look on as other people, and even\nknew it not themselves,--I say they all allowed that it was really true\nin fact, but they knew not how to propose a discovery.[272]\nMy friend Dr. Heath was of opinion that it might be known by the smell\nof their breath; but then, as he said, who durst smell to that breath\nfor his information, since to know it he must draw the stench of the\nplague up into his own brain in order to distinguish the smell? I have\nheard it was the opinion of others that it might be distinguished by the\nparty's breathing upon a piece of glass, where, the breath condensing,\nthere might living creatures be seen by a microscope, of strange,\nmonstrous, and frightful shapes, such as dragons, snakes, serpents, and\ndevils, horrible to behold. But this I very much question the truth of,\nand we had no microscopes at that time, as I remember, to make the\nexperiment with.[273]\nIt was the opinion, also, of another learned man that the breath of such\na person would poison and instantly kill a bird, not only a small bird,\nbut even a cock or hen; and that, if it did not immediately kill the\nlatter, it would cause them to be roupy,[274] as they call it;\nparticularly that, if they had laid any eggs at that time, they would be\nall rotten. But those are opinions which I never found supported by any\nexperiments, or heard of others that had seen it,[275] so I leave them\nas I find them, only with this remark, namely, that I think the\nprobabilities are very strong for them.\nSome have proposed that such persons should breathe hard upon warm\nwater, and that they would leave an unusual scum upon it, or upon\nseveral other things, especially such as are of a glutinous substance,\nand are apt to receive a scum, and support it.\nBut, from the whole, I found that the nature of this contagion was such\nthat it was impossible to discover it at all, or to prevent it spreading\nfrom one to another by any human skill.\nHere was indeed one difficulty, which I could never thoroughly get over\nto this time, and which there is but one way of answering that I know\nof, and it is this; viz., the first person that died of the plague was\non December 20th, or thereabouts, 1664, and in or about Longacre: whence\nthe first person had the infection was generally said to be from a\nparcel of silks imported from Holland, and first opened in that house.\nBut after this we heard no more of any person dying of the plague, or of\nthe distemper being in that place, till the 9th of February, which was\nabout seven weeks after, and then one more was buried out of the same\nhouse. Then it was hushed, and we were perfectly easy as to the public\nfor a great while; for there were no more entered in the weekly bill to\nbe dead of the plague till the 22d of April, when there were two more\nburied, not out of the same house, but out of the same street; and, as\nnear as I can remember, it was out of the next house to the first. This\nwas nine weeks asunder; and after this we had no more till a fortnight,\nand then it broke out in several streets, and spread every way. Now, the\nquestion seems to lie thus: Where lay the seeds of the infection all\nthis while? how came it to stop so long, and not stop any longer? Either\nthe distemper did not come immediately by contagion from body to body,\nor, if it did, then a body may be capable to continue infected, without\nthe disease discovering itself, many days, nay, weeks together; even not\na quarantine[276] of days only, but a soixantine,[277]--not only forty\ndays, but sixty days, or longer.\nIt is true there was, as I observed at first, and is well known to many\nyet living, a very cold winter and a long frost, which continued three\nmonths; and this, the doctors say, might check the infection. But then\nthe learned must allow me to say, that if, according to their notion,\nthe disease was, as I may say, only frozen up, it would, like a frozen\nriver, have returned to its usual force and current when it thawed;\nwhereas the principal recess of this infection, which was from February\nto April, was after the frost was broken and the weather mild and warm.\nBut there is another way of solving all this difficulty, which I think\nmy own remembrance of the thing will supply; and that is, the fact is\nnot granted, namely, that there died none in those long intervals, viz.,\nfrom the 20th of December to the 9th of February, and from thence to the\n22d of April. The weekly bills are the only evidence on the other side,\nand those bills were not of credit enough, at least with me, to support\nan hypothesis, or determine a question of such importance as this; for\nit was our received opinion at that time, and I believe upon very good\ngrounds, that the fraud lay in the parish officers, searchers, and\npersons appointed to give account of the dead, and what diseases they\ndied of; and as people were very loath at first to have the neighbors\nbelieve their houses were infected, so they gave money to procure, or\notherwise procured, the dead persons to be returned as dying of other\ndistempers; and this I know was practiced afterwards in many places, I\nbelieve I might say in all places where the distemper came, as will be\nseen by the vast increase of the numbers placed in the weekly bills\nunder other articles[278] of diseases during the time of the infection.\nFor example, in the months of July and August, when the plague was\ncoming on to its highest pitch, it was very ordinary to have from a\nthousand to twelve hundred, nay, to almost fifteen hundred, a week, of\nother distempers. Not that the numbers of those distempers were really\nincreased to such a degree; but the great number of families and houses\nwhere really the infection was, obtained the favor to have their dead be\nreturned of other distempers, to prevent the shutting up their houses.\nFor example:--\n    _Dead of other Diseases besides the Plague._\n    From the 18th to the 25th of July     942\n    To the 5th of September             1,264\nNow, it was not doubted but the greatest part of these, or a great part\nof them, were dead of the plague; but the officers were prevailed with\nto return them as above, and the numbers of some particular articles of\ndistempers discovered is as follows:--\nThere were several other articles which bore a proportion to these, and\nwhich it is easy to perceive were increased on the same account; as\naged,[279] consumptions, vomitings, imposthumes,[280] gripes, and the\nlike, many of which were not doubted to be infected people; but as it\nwas of the utmost consequence to families not to be known to be\ninfected, if it was possible to avoid it, so they took all the measures\nthey could to have it not believed, and if any died in their houses, to\nget them returned to the examiners, and by the searchers, as having died\nof other distempers.\nThis, I say, will account for the long interval which, as I have said,\nwas between the dying of the first persons that were returned in the\nbills to be dead of the plague, and the time when the distemper spread\nopenly, and could not be concealed.\nBesides, the weekly bills themselves at that time evidently discover\nthis truth; for while there was no mention of the plague, and no\nincrease after it had been mentioned, yet it was apparent that there was\nan increase of those distempers which bordered nearest upon it. For\nexample, there were eight, twelve, seventeen, of the spotted fever in a\nweek when there were none or but very few of the plague; whereas before,\none, three, or four were the ordinary weekly numbers of that distemper.\nLikewise, as I observed before, the burials increased weekly in that\nparticular parish and the parishes adjacent, more than in any other\nparish, although there were none set down of the plague; all which tell\nus that the infection was handed on, and the succession of the distemper\nreally preserved, though it seemed to us at that time to be ceased, and\nto come again in a manner surprising.\nIt might be, also, that the infection might remain in other parts of the\nsame parcel of goods which at first it came in, and which might not be,\nperhaps, opened, or at least not fully, or in the clothes of the first\ninfected person; for I cannot think that anybody could be seized with\nthe contagion in a fatal and mortal degree for nine weeks together, and\nsupport his state of health so well as even not to discover it to\nthemselves:[281] yet, if it were so, the argument is the stronger in\nfavor of what I am saying, namely, that the infection is retained in\nbodies apparently well, and conveyed from them to those they converse\nwith, while it is known to neither the one nor the other.\nGreat were the confusions at that time upon this very account; and when\npeople began to be convinced that the infection was received in this\nsurprising manner from persons apparently well, they began to be\nexceeding shy and jealous of every one that came near them. Once, on a\npublic day, whether a sabbath day or not I do not remember, in Aldgate\nChurch, in a pew full of people, on a sudden one fancied she smelt an\nill smell. Immediately she fancies the plague was in the pew, whispers\nher notion or suspicion to the next, then rises and goes out of the pew.\nIt immediately took with the next, and so with them all; and every one\nof them, and of the two or three adjoining pews, got up and went out of\nthe church, nobody knowing what it was offended them, or from whom.\nThis immediately filled everybody's mouths with one preparation or\nother, such as the old women directed, and some, perhaps, as physicians\ndirected, in order to prevent infection by the breath of others;\ninsomuch, that if we came to go into a church when it was anything full\nof people, there would be such a mixture of smells at the entrance, that\nit was much more strong, though perhaps not so wholesome, than if you\nwere going into an apothecary's or druggist's shop: in a word, the whole\nchurch was like a smelling bottle. In one corner it was all perfumes; in\nanother, aromatics,[282] balsamics,[283] and a variety of drugs and\nherbs; in another, salts and spirits, as every one was furnished for\ntheir own preservation. Yet I observed that after people were possessed,\nas I have said, with the belief, or rather assurance, of the infection\nbeing thus carried on by persons apparently in health, the churches and\nmeetinghouses were much thinner of people than at other times, before\nthat, they used to be; for this is to be said of the people of London,\nthat, during the whole time of the pestilence, the churches or meetings\nwere never wholly shut up, nor did the people decline coming out to the\npublic worship of God, except only in some parishes, when the violence\nof the distemper was more particularly in that parish at that time, and\neven then[284] no longer than it[285] continued to be so.\nIndeed, nothing was more strange than to see with what courage the\npeople went to the public service of God, even at that time when they\nwere afraid to stir out of their own houses upon any other occasion\n(this I mean before the time of desperation which I have mentioned\nalready). This was a proof of the exceeding populousness of the city at\nthe time of the infection, notwithstanding the great numbers that were\ngone into the country at the first alarm, and that fled out into the\nforests and woods when they were further terrified with the\nextraordinary increase of it. For when we came to see the crowds and\nthrongs of people which appeared on the sabbath days at the churches,\nand especially in those parts of the town where the plague was abated,\nor where it was not yet come to its height, it was amazing. But of this\nI shall speak again presently. I return, in the mean time, to the\narticle of infecting one another at first. Before people came to right\nnotions of the infection and of infecting one another, people were only\nshy of those that were really sick. A man with a cap upon his head, or\nwith cloths round his neck (which was the case of those that had\nswellings there),--such was indeed frightful; but when we saw a\ngentleman dressed, with his band[286] on, and his gloves in his hand,\nhis hat upon his head, and his hair combed,--of such we had not the\nleast apprehensions; and people conversed a great while freely,\nespecially with their neighbors and such as they knew. But when the\nphysicians assured us that the danger was as well from the sound (that\nis, the seemingly sound) as the sick, and that those people that thought\nthemselves entirely free were oftentimes the most fatal; and that it\ncame to be generally understood that people were sensible of it, and of\nthe reason of it,--then, I say, they began to be jealous of everybody;\nand a vast number of people locked themselves up, so as not to come\nabroad into any company at all, nor suffer any that had been abroad in\npromiscuous company to come into their houses, or near them (at least\nnot so near them as to be within the reach of their breath, or of any\nsmell from them); and when they were obliged to converse at a distance\nwith strangers, they would always have preservatives in their mouths and\nabout their clothes, to repel and keep off the infection.\nIt must be acknowledged that when people began to use these cautions\nthey were less exposed to danger, and the infection did not break into\nsuch houses so furiously as it did into others before; and thousands of\nfamilies were preserved, speaking with due reserve to the direction of\nDivine Providence, by that means.\nBut it was impossible to beat anything into the heads of the poor. They\nwent on with the usual impetuosity of their tempers, full of outcries\nand lamentations when taken, but madly careless of themselves,\nfoolhardy, and obstinate, while they were well. Where they could get\nemployment, they pushed into any kind of business, the most dangerous\nand the most liable to infection; and if they were spoken to, their\nanswer would be, \"I must trust to God for that. If I am taken, then I am\nprovided for, and there is an end of me;\" and the like. Or thus, \"Why,\nwhat must I do? I cannot starve. I had as good have the plague as perish\nfor want. I have no work: what could I do? I must do this, or beg.\"\nSuppose it was burying the dead, or attending the sick, or watching\ninfected houses, which were all terrible hazards; but their tale was\ngenerally the same. It is true, necessity was a justifiable, warrantable\nplea, and nothing could be better; but their way of talk was much the\nsame where the necessities were not the same. This adventurous conduct\nof the poor was that which brought the plague among them in a most\nfurious manner; and this, joined to the distress of their circumstances\nwhen taken, was the reason why they died so by heaps; for I cannot say\nI could observe one jot of better husbandry[287] among them (I mean the\nlaboring poor) while they were all well and getting money than there was\nbefore; but[288] as lavish, as extravagant, and as thoughtless for\nto-morrow as ever; so that when they came to be taken sick, they were\nimmediately in the utmost distress, as well for want as for sickness, as\nwell for lack of food as lack of health.\nThe misery of the poor I had many occasions to be an eyewitness of, and\nsometimes, also, of the charitable assistance that some pious people\ndaily gave to such, sending them relief and supplies, both of food,\nphysic, and other help, as they found they wanted. And indeed it is a\ndebt of justice due to the temper of the people of that day, to take\nnotice here, that not only great sums, very great sums of money, were\ncharitably sent to the lord mayor and aldermen for the assistance and\nsupport of the poor distempered people, but abundance of private people\ndaily distributed large sums of money for their relief, and sent people\nabout to inquire into the condition of particular distressed and visited\nfamilies, and relieved them. Nay, some pious ladies were transported\nwith zeal in so good a work, and so confident in the protection of\nProvidence in discharge of the great duty of charity, that they went\nabout in person distributing alms to the poor, and even visiting poor\nfamilies, though sick and infected, in their very houses, appointing\nnurses to attend those that wanted attending, and ordering apothecaries\nand surgeons, the first to supply them with drugs or plasters, and such\nthings as they wanted, and the last to lance and dress the swellings and\ntumors, where such were wanting; giving their blessing to the poor in\nsubstantial relief to them, as well as hearty prayers for them.\nI will not undertake to say, as some do, that none of those charitable\npeople were suffered to fall under the calamity itself; but this I may\nsay, that I never knew any one of them that miscarried, which I mention\nfor the encouragement of others in case of the like distress; and\ndoubtless if they that give to the poor lend to the Lord, and he will\nrepay them, those that hazard their lives to give to the poor, and to\ncomfort and assist the poor in such misery as this, may hope to be\nprotected in the work.\nNor was this charity so extraordinary eminent only in a few; but (for I\ncannot lightly quit this point) the charity of the rich, as well in the\ncity and suburbs as from the country, was so great, that in a word a\nprodigious number of people, who must otherwise have perished for want\nas well as sickness, were supported and subsisted by it; and though I\ncould never, nor I believe any one else, come to a full knowledge of\nwhat was so contributed, yet I do believe, that, as I heard one say that\nwas a critical observer of that part,[289] there was not only many\nthousand pounds contributed, but many hundred thousand pounds, to the\nrelief of the poor of this distressed, afflicted city. Nay, one man\naffirmed to me that he could reckon up above one hundred thousand pounds\na week which was distributed by the churchwardens at the several parish\nvestries, by the lord mayor and the aldermen in the several wards and\nprecincts, and by the particular direction of the court and of the\njustices respectively in the parts where they resided, over and above\nthe private charity distributed by pious hands in the manner I speak of;\nand this continued for many weeks together.\nI confess this is a very great sum; but if it be true that there was\ndistributed, in the parish of Cripplegate only, seventeen thousand eight\nhundred pounds in one week to the relief of the poor, as I heard\nreported, and which I really believe was true, the other may not be\nimprobable.\nIt was doubtless to be reckoned among the many signal good providences\nwhich attended this great city, and of which there were many other worth\nrecording. I say, this was a very remarkable one, that it pleased God\nthus to move the hearts of the people in all parts of the kingdom so\ncheerfully to contribute to the relief and support of the poor at\nLondon; the good consequences of which were felt many ways, and\nparticularly in preserving the lives and recovering the health of so\nmany thousands, and keeping so many thousands of families from perishing\nand starving.\nAnd now I am talking of the merciful disposition of Providence in this\ntime of calamity, I cannot but mention again, though I have spoken\nseveral times of it already on other accounts (I mean that of the\nprogression of the distemper), how it began at one end of the town, and\nproceeded gradually and slowly from one part to another, and like a dark\ncloud that passes over our heads, which, as it thickens and overcasts\nthe air at one end, clears up at the other end: so, while the plague\nwent on raging from west to east, as it went forwards east, it abated in\nthe west; by which means those parts of the town which were not seized,\nor who[290] were left, and where it had spent its fury, were (as it\nwere) spared to help and assist the other: whereas, had the distemper\nspread itself over the whole city and suburbs at once, raging in all\nplaces alike, as it has done since in some places abroad, the whole body\nof the people must have been overwhelmed, and there would have died\ntwenty thousand a day, as they say there did at Naples, nor would the\npeople have been able to have helped or assisted one another.\nFor it must be observed that where the plague was in its full force,\nthere indeed the people were very miserable, and the consternation was\ninexpressible; but a little before it reached even to that place, or\npresently after it was gone, they were quite another sort of people; and\nI cannot but acknowledge that there was too much of that common temper\nof mankind to be found among us all at that time, namely, to forget the\ndeliverance when the danger is past. But I shall come to speak of that\npart again.\nIt must not be forgot here to take some notice of the state of trade\nduring the time of this common calamity; and this with respect to\nforeign trade, as also to our home trade.\nAs to foreign trade, there needs little to be said. The trading nations\nof Europe were all afraid of us. No port of France, or Holland, or\nSpain, or Italy, would admit our ships, or correspond with us. Indeed,\nwe stood on ill terms with the Dutch, and were in a furious war with\nthem, though in a bad condition to fight abroad, who had such dreadful\nenemies to struggle with at home.\nOur merchants were accordingly at a full stop. Their ships could go\nnowhere; that is to say, to no place abroad. Their manufactures and\nmerchandise, that is to say, of our growth, would not be touched abroad.\nThey were as much afraid of our goods as they were of our people; and\nindeed they had reason, for our woolen manufactures are as retentive of\ninfection as human bodies, and, if packed up by persons infected, would\nreceive the infection, and be as dangerous to the touch as a man would\nbe that was infected; and therefore when any English vessel arrived in\nforeign countries, if they did take the goods on shore, they always\ncaused the bales to be opened and aired in places appointed for that\npurpose. But from London they would not suffer them to come into port,\nmuch less to unload their goods, upon any terms whatever; and this\nstrictness was especially used with them in Spain and Italy. In Turkey\nand the islands of the Arches,[291] indeed, as they are called, as well\nthose belonging to the Turks as to the Venetians, they were not so very\nrigid. In the first there was no obstruction at all, and four ships\nwhich were then in the river loading for Italy (that is, for Leghorn and\nNaples) being denied product, as they call it, went on to Turkey, and\nwere freely admitted to unlade their cargo without any difficulty, only\nthat when they arrived there, some of their cargo was not fit for sale\nin that country, and other parts of it being consigned to merchants at\nLeghorn, the captains of the ships had no right nor any orders to\ndispose of the goods; so that great inconveniences followed to the\nmerchants. But this was nothing but what the necessity of affairs\nrequired; and the merchants at Leghorn and Naples, having notice given\nthem, sent again from thence to take care of the effects which were\nparticularly consigned to those ports, and to bring back in other ships\nsuch as were improper for the markets at Smyrna[292] and\nScanderoon.[293]\nThe inconveniences in Spain and Portugal were still greater; for they\nwould by no means suffer our ships, especially those from London, to\ncome into any of their ports, much less to unlade. There was a report\nthat one of our ships having by stealth delivered her cargo, among which\nwere some bales of English cloth, cotton, kerseys, and such like goods,\nthe Spaniards caused all the goods to be burned, and punished the men\nwith death who were concerned in carrying them on shore. This I believe\nwas in part true, though I do not affirm it; but it is not at all\nunlikely, seeing the danger was really very great, the infection being\nso violent in London.\nI heard likewise that the plague was carried into those countries by\nsome of our ships, and particularly to the port of Faro, in the kingdom\nof Algarve,[294] belonging to the King of Portugal, and that several\npersons died of it there; but it was not confirmed.\nOn the other hand, though the Spaniards and Portuguese were so shy of\nus, it is most certain that the plague, as has been said, keeping at\nfirst much at that end of the town next Westminster, the merchandising\npart of the town, such as the city and the waterside, was perfectly\nsound till at least the beginning of July, and the ships in the river\ntill the beginning of August; for to the 1st of July there had died but\nseven within the whole city, and but sixty within the liberties; but one\nin all the parishes of Stepney, Aldgate, and Whitechapel, and but two in\nall the eight parishes of Southwark. But it was the same thing abroad,\nfor the bad news was gone over the whole world, that the city of London\nwas infected with the plague; and there was no inquiring there how the\ninfection proceeded, or at which part of the town it was begun or was\nreached to.\nBesides, after it began to spread, it increased so fast, and the bills\ngrew so high all on a sudden, that it was to no purpose to lessen the\nreport of it, or endeavor to make the people abroad think it better than\nit was. The account which the weekly bills gave in was sufficient; and\nthat there died two thousand to three or four thousand a week was\nsufficient to alarm the whole trading part of the world: and the\nfollowing time being so dreadful also in the very city itself, put the\nwhole world, I say, upon their guard against it.\nYou may be sure also that the report of these things lost nothing in the\ncarriage. The plague was itself very terrible, and the distress of the\npeople very great, as you may observe of what I have said, but the rumor\nwas infinitely greater; and it must not be wondered that our friends\nabroad, as my brother's correspondents in particular, were told there\n(namely, in Portugal and Italy, where he chiefly traded), that in London\nthere died twenty thousand in a week; that the dead bodies lay unburied\nby heaps; that the living were not sufficient to bury the dead, or the\nsound to look after the sick; that all the kingdom was infected\nlikewise, so that it was an universal malady such as was never heard of\nin those parts of the world. And they could hardly believe us when we\ngave them an account how things really were; and how there was not above\none tenth part of the people dead; that there were five hundred thousand\nleft that lived all the time in the town; that now the people began to\nwalk the streets again, and those who were fled to return; there was no\nmiss of the usual throng of people in the streets, except as every\nfamily might miss their relations and neighbors; and the like. I say,\nthey could not believe these things; and if inquiry were now to be made\nin Naples, or in other cities on the coast of Italy, they would tell you\nthere was a dreadful infection in London so many years ago, in which, as\nabove, there died twenty thousand in a week, etc., just as we have had\nit reported in London that there was a plague in the city of Naples in\nthe year 1656, in which there died twenty thousand people in a day, of\nwhich I have had very good satisfaction that it was utterly false.\nBut these extravagant reports were very prejudicial to our trade, as\nwell as unjust and injurious in themselves; for it was a long time after\nthe plague was quite over before our trade could recover itself in those\nparts of the world; and the Flemings[295] and Dutch, but especially the\nlast, made very great advantages of it, having all the market to\nthemselves, and even buying our manufactures in the several parts of\nEngland where the plague was not, and carrying them to Holland and\nFlanders, and from thence transporting them to Spain and to Italy, as if\nthey had been of their own making.\nBut they were detected sometimes, and punished, that is to say, their\ngoods confiscated, and ships also; for if it was true that our\nmanufactures as well as our people were infected, and that it was\ndangerous to touch or to open and receive the smell of them, then those\npeople ran the hazard, by that clandestine trade, not only of carrying\nthe contagion into their own country, but also of infecting the nations\nto whom they traded with those goods; which, considering how many lives\nmight be lost in consequence of such an action, must be a trade that no\nmen of conscience could suffer themselves to be concerned in.\nI do not take upon me to say that any harm was done, I mean of that\nkind, by those people; but I doubt I need not make any such proviso in\nthe case of our own country; for either by our people of London, or by\nthe commerce, which made their conversing with all sorts of people in\nevery county, and of every considerable town, necessary,--I say, by this\nmeans the plague was first or last spread all over the kingdom, as well\nin London as in all the cities and great towns, especially in the\ntrading manufacturing towns and seaports: so that first or last all the\nconsiderable places in England were visited more or less, and the\nkingdom of Ireland in some places, but not so universally. How it fared\nwith the people in Scotland, I had no opportunity to inquire.\nIt is to be observed, that, while the plague continued so violent in\nLondon, the outports, as they are called, enjoyed a very great trade,\nespecially to the adjacent countries and to our own plantations.[296]\nFor example, the towns of Colchester, Yarmouth, and Hull, on that\nside[297] of England, exported to Holland and Hamburg the manufactures\nof the adjacent counties for several months after the trade with London\nwas, as it were, entirely shut up. Likewise the cities of Bristol[298]\nand Exeter, with the port of Plymouth, had the like advantage to Spain,\nto the Canaries, to Guinea, and to the West Indies, and particularly to\nIreland. But as the plague spread itself every way after it had been in\nLondon to such a degree as it was in August and September, so all or\nmost of those cities and towns were infected first or last, and then\ntrade was, as it were, under a general embargo, or at a full stop, as I\nshall observe further when I speak of our home trade.\nOne thing, however, must be observed, that as to ships coming in from\nabroad (as many, you may be sure, did), some who were out in all parts\nof the world a considerable while before, and some who, when they went\nout, knew nothing of an infection, or at least of one so\nterrible,--these came up the river boldly, and delivered their cargoes\nas they were obliged to do, except just in the two months of August and\nSeptember, when, the weight of the infection lying, as I may say, all\nbelow bridge, nobody durst appear in business for a while. But as this\ncontinued but for a few weeks, the homeward-bound ships, especially such\nwhose cargoes were not liable to spoil, came to an anchor, for a time,\nshort of the Pool, or freshwater part of the river, even as low as the\nriver Medway, where several of them ran in; and others lay at the Nore,\nand in the Hope below Gravesend: so that by the latter end of October\nthere was a very great fleet of homeward-bound ships to come up, such as\nthe like had not been known for many years.\nTwo particular trades were carried on by water carriage all the while of\nthe infection, and that with little or no interruption, very much to the\nadvantage and comfort of the poor distressed people of the city; and\nthose were the coasting trade for corn, and the Newcastle trade for\ncoals.\nThe first of these was particularly carried on by small vessels from the\nport of Hull, and other places in the Humber, by which great quantities\nof corn were brought in from Yorkshire and Lincolnshire; the other part\nof this corn trade was from Lynn in Norfolk, from Wells, and Burnham,\nand from Yarmouth, all in the same county; and the third branch was from\nthe river Medway, and from Milton, Feversham, Margate, and Sandwich, and\nall the other little places and ports round the coast of Kent and\nEssex.[299]\nThere was also a very good trade from the coast of Suffolk, with corn,\nbutter, and cheese. These vessels kept a constant course of trade, and\nwithout interruption came up to that market known still by the name of\nBear Key, where they supplied the city plentifully with corn when land\ncarriage began to fail, and when the people began to be sick of coming\nfrom many places in the country.\nThis also was much of it owing to the prudence and conduct of the lord\nmayor, who took such care to keep the masters and seamen from danger\nwhen they came up, causing their corn to be bought off at any time they\nwanted a market (which, however, was very seldom), and causing the\ncornfactors[300] immediately to unlade and deliver the vessels laden\nwith corn, that they had very little occasion to come out of their ships\nor vessels, the money being always carried on board to them, and put it\ninto a pail of vinegar before it was carried.\nThe second trade was that of coals from Newcastle-upon-Tyne, without\nwhich the city would have been greatly distressed; for not in the\nstreets only, but in private houses and families, great quantities of\ncoal were then burnt, even all the summer long, and when the weather was\nhottest, which was done by the advice of the physicians. Some, indeed,\nopposed it, and insisted that to keep the houses and rooms hot was a\nmeans to propagate the distemper, which was a fermentation and heat\nalready in the blood; that it was known to spread and increase in hot\nweather, and abate in cold; and therefore they alleged that all\ncontagious distempers are the worst for heat, because the contagion was\nnourished, and gained strength, in hot weather, and was, as it were,\npropagated in heat.\nOthers said they granted that heat in the climate might propagate\ninfection, as sultry hot weather fills the air with vermin, and\nnourishes innumerable numbers and kinds of venomous creatures, which\nbreed in our food, in the plants, and even in our bodies, by the very\nstench of which infection may be propagated; also that heat in the air,\nor heat of weather, as we ordinarily call it, makes bodies relax and\nfaint, exhausts the spirits, opens the pores, and makes us more apt to\nreceive infection or any evil influence, be it from noxious,\npestilential vapors, or any other thing in the air; but that the heat of\nfire, and especially of coal fires, kept in our houses or near us, had\nquite a different operation, the heat being not of the same kind, but\nquick and fierce, tending not to nourish, but to consume and dissipate,\nall those noxious fumes which the other kind of heat rather exhaled, and\nstagnated than separated, and burnt up. Besides, it was alleged that the\nsulphureous and nitrous particles that are often found to be in the\ncoal, with that bituminous substance which burns, are all assisting to\nclear and purge the air, and render it wholesome and safe to breathe\nin, after the noxious particles (as above) are dispersed and burnt up.\nThe latter opinion prevailed at that time, and, as I must confess, I\nthink with good reason; and the experience of the citizens confirmed it,\nmany houses which had constant fires kept in the rooms having never been\ninfected at all; and I must join my experience to it, for I found the\nkeeping of good fires kept our rooms sweet and wholesome, and I do\nverily believe made our whole family so, more than would otherwise have\nbeen.\nBut I return to the coals as a trade. It was with no little difficulty\nthat this trade was kept open, and particularly because, as we were in\nan open war with the Dutch at that time, the Dutch capers[301] at first\ntook a great many of our collier ships, which made the rest cautious,\nand made them to stay to come in fleets together. But after some time\nthe capers were either afraid to take them, or their masters, the\nStates, were afraid they should, and forbade them, lest the plague\nshould be among them, which made them fare the better.\nFor the security of those northern traders, the coal ships were ordered\nby my lord mayor not to come up into the Pool above a certain number at\na time; and[302] ordered lighters and other vessels, such as the\nwoodmongers (that is, the wharf keepers) or coal sellers furnished, to\ngo down and take out the coals as low as Deptford and Greenwich, and\nsome farther down.\nOthers delivered great quantities of coals in particular places where\nthe ships could come to the shore, as at Greenwich, Blackwall, and other\nplaces, in vast heaps, as if to be kept for sale; but[303] were then\nfetched away after the ships which brought them were gone; so that the\nseamen had no communication with the river men, nor so much as came near\none another.[304]\nYet all this caution could not effectually prevent the distemper\ngetting among the colliery, that is to say, among the ships, by which a\ngreat many seamen died of it; and that which was still worse was, that\nthey carried it down to Ipswich and Yarmouth, to Newcastle-upon-Tyne,\nand other places on the coast, where, especially at Newcastle and at\nSunderland, it carried off a great number of people.\nThe making so many fires as above did indeed consume an unusual quantity\nof coals; and that upon one or two stops of the ships coming up (whether\nby contrary weather or by the interruption of enemies, I do not\nremember); but the price of coals was exceedingly dear, even as high as\nfour pounds a chaldron;[305] but it soon abated when the ships came in,\nand, as afterwards they had a freer passage, the price was very\nreasonable all the rest of that year.\nThe public fires which were made on these occasions, as I have\ncalculated it, must necessarily have cost the city about two hundred\nchaldron of coals a week, if they had continued, which was indeed a very\ngreat quantity; but as it was thought necessary, nothing was spared.\nHowever, as some of the physicians cried them down, they were not kept\nalight above four or five days. The fires were ordered thus:--\nOne at the Custom House; one at Billingsgate; one at Queenhithe, and one\nat the Three Cranes; one in Blackfriars, and one at the gate of\nBridewell; one at the corner of Leadenhall Street and Gracechurch; one\nat the north and one at the south gate of the Royal Exchange; one at\nGuildhall, and one at Blackwell Hall gate; one at the lord mayor's door\nin St. Helen's; one at the west entrance into St. Paul's; and one at the\nentrance into Bow Church. I do not remember whether there was any at the\ncity gates, but one at the bridge foot there was, just by St. Magnus\nChurch.\nI know some have quarreled since that at the experiment, and said that\nthere died the more people because of those fires; but I am persuaded\nthose that say so offer no evidence to prove it, neither can I believe\nit on any account whatever.\nIt remains to give some account of the state of trade at home in England\nduring this dreadful time, and particularly as it relates to the\nmanufactures and the trade in the city. At the first breaking out of the\ninfection there was, as it is easy to suppose, a very great fright among\nthe people, and consequently a general stop of trade, except in\nprovisions and necessaries of life; and even in those things, as there\nwas a vast number of people fled and a very great number always sick,\nbesides the number which died, so there could not be above two thirds,\nif above one half, of the consumption of provisions in the city as used\nto be.\nIt pleased God to send a very plentiful year of corn and fruit, and not\nof hay or grass, by which means bread was cheap by reason of the plenty\nof corn, flesh was cheap by reason of the scarcity of grass, but butter\nand cheese were dear for the same reason; and hay in the market, just\nbeyond Whitechapel Bars, was sold at four pounds per load; but that\naffected not the poor. There was a most excessive plenty of all sorts of\nfruit, such as apples, pears, plums, cherries, grapes; and they were the\ncheaper because of the wants of the people; but this made the poor eat\nthem to excess, and this brought them into surfeits and the like, which\noften precipitated them into the plague.\nBut to come to matters of trade. First, foreign exportation being\nstopped, or at least very much interrupted and rendered difficult, a\ngeneral stop of all those manufactures followed of course, which were\nusually brought for exportation; and, though sometimes merchants abroad\nwere importunate for goods, yet little was sent, the passages being so\ngenerally stopped that the English ships would not be admitted, as is\nsaid already, into their port.\nThis put a stop to the manufactures that were for exportation in most\nparts of England, except in some outports; and even that was soon\nstopped, for they all had the plague in their turn. But though this was\nfelt all over England, yet, what was still worse, all intercourse of\ntrade for home consumption of manufactures, especially those which\nusually circulated through the Londoners' hands, was stopped at once,\nthe trade of the city being stopped.\nAll kinds of handicrafts in the city, etc., tradesmen and mechanics,\nwere, as I have said before, out of employ; and this occasioned the\nputting off and dismissing an innumerable number of journeymen and\nworkmen of all sorts, seeing nothing was done relating to such trades\nbut what might be said to be absolutely necessary.\nThis caused the multitude of single people in London to be unprovided\nfor, as also of families whose living depended upon the labor of the\nheads of those families. I say, this reduced them to extreme misery; and\nI must confess it is for the honor of the city of London, and will be\nfor many ages, as long as this is to be spoken of, that they were able\nto supply with charitable provision the wants of so many thousands of\nthose as afterwards fell sick and were distressed; so that it may be\nsafely averred that nobody perished for want, at least that the\nmagistrates had any notice given them of.\nThis stagnation of our manufacturing trade in the country would have put\nthe people there to much greater difficulties, but that the master\nworkmen, clothiers, and others, to the uttermost of their stocks and\nstrength, kept on making their goods to keep the poor at work, believing\nthat, as soon as the sickness should abate, they would have a quick\ndemand in proportion to the decay of their trade at that time; but as\nnone but those masters that were rich could do thus, and that many were\npoor and not able, the manufacturing trade in England suffered greatly,\nand the poor were pinched all over England by the calamity of the city\nof London only.\nIt is true that the next year made them full amends by another terrible\ncalamity upon the city; so that the city by one calamity impoverished\nand weakened the country, and by another calamity (even terrible, too,\nof its kind) enriched the country, and made them again amends: for an\ninfinite quantity of household stuff, wearing apparel, and other\nthings, besides whole warehouses filled with merchandise and\nmanufactures, such as come from all parts of England, were consumed in\nthe fire of London the next year after this terrible visitation. It is\nincredible what a trade this made all over the whole kingdom, to make\ngood the want, and to supply that loss; so that, in short, all the\nmanufacturing hands in the nation were set on work, and were little\nenough for several years to supply the market, and answer the demands.\nAll foreign markets also were empty of our goods, by the stop which had\nbeen occasioned by the plague, and before an open trade was allowed\nagain; and the prodigious demand at home falling in, joined to make a\nquick vent[306] for all sorts of goods; so that there never was known\nsuch a trade all over England, for the time, as was in the first seven\nyears after the plague, and after the fire of London.\nIt remains now that I should say something of the merciful part of this\nterrible judgment. The last week in September, the plague being come to\nits crisis, its fury began to assuage. I remember my friend Dr. Heath,\ncoming to see me the week before, told me he was sure the violence of it\nwould assuage in a few days; but when I saw the weekly bill of that\nweek, which was the highest of the whole year, being 8,297 of all\ndiseases, I upbraided him with it, and asked him what he had made his\njudgment from. His answer, however, was not so much to seek[307] as I\nthought it would have been. \"Look you,\" says he: \"by the number which\nare at this time sick and infected, there should have been twenty\nthousand dead the last week, instead of eight thousand, if the\ninveterate mortal contagion had been as it was two weeks ago; for then\nit ordinarily killed in two or three days, now not under eight or ten;\nand then not above one in five recovered, whereas I have observed that\nnow not above two in five miscarry. And observe it from me, the next\nbill will decrease, and you will see many more people recover than used\nto do; for though a vast multitude are now everywhere infected, and as\nmany every day fall sick, yet there will not so many die as there did,\nfor the malignity of the distemper is abated;\" adding that he began now\nto hope, nay, more than hope, that the infection had passed its crisis,\nand was going off. And accordingly so it was; for the next week being,\nas I said, the last in September, the bill decreased almost two\nthousand.\nIt is true, the plague was still at a frightful height, and the next\nbill was no less than 6,460, and the next to that 5,720; but still my\nfriend's observation was just, and it did appear the people did recover\nfaster, and more in number, than they used to do; and indeed if it had\nnot been so, what had been the condition of the city of London? For,\naccording to my friend, there were not fewer than 60,000 people at that\ntime infected, whereof, as above, 20,477 died, and near 40,000\nrecovered; whereas, had it been as it was before, 50,000 of that number\nwould very probably have died, if not more, and 50,000 more would have\nsickened; for in a word the whole mass of people began to sicken, and it\nlooked as if none would escape.\nBut this remark of my friend's appeared more evident in a few weeks\nmore; for the decrease went on, and another week in October it decreased\n1,843, so that the number dead of the plague was but 2,665; and the next\nweek it decreased 1,413 more, and yet it was seen plainly that there was\nabundance of people sick, nay, abundance more than ordinary, and\nabundance fell sick every day; but, as above, the malignity of the\ndisease abated.\nSuch is the precipitant disposition of our people (whether it is so or\nnot all over the world, that is none of my particular business to\ninquire; but I saw it apparently here), that, as upon the first sight of\nthe infection they shunned one another, and fled from one another's\nhouses and from the city with an unaccountable, and, as I thought,\nunnecessary fright, so now, upon this notion spreading, viz., that the\ndistemper was not so catching as formerly, and that if it was catched it\nwas not so mortal, and seeing abundance of people who really fell sick\nrecover again daily, they took to such a precipitant courage, and grew\nso entirely regardless of themselves and of the infection, that they\nmade no more of the plague than of an ordinary fever, nor indeed so\nmuch. They not only went boldly into company with those who had tumors\nand carbuncles upon them that were running, and consequently contagious,\nbut eat and drank with them, nay, into their houses to visit them, and\neven, as I was told, into their very chambers where they lay sick.\nThis I could not see rational. My friend Dr. Heath allowed, and it was\nplain to experience, that the distemper was as catching as ever, and as\nmany fell sick, but only he alleged that so many of those that fell sick\ndid not die; but I think that while many did die, and that at best the\ndistemper itself was very terrible, the sores and swellings very\ntormenting, and the danger of death not left out of the circumstance of\nsickness, though not so frequent as before,--all those things, together\nwith the exceeding tediousness of the cure, the loathsomeness of the\ndisease, and many other articles, were enough to deter any man living\nfrom a dangerous mixture[308] with the sick people, and make them[309]\nas anxious almost to avoid the infection as before.\nNay, there was another thing which made the mere catching of the\ndistemper frightful, and that was the terrible burning of the caustics\nwhich the surgeons laid on the swellings to bring them to break and to\nrun; without which the danger of death was very great, even to the last;\nalso the insufferable torment of the swellings, which, though it might\nnot make people raving and distracted, as they were before, and as I\nhave given several instances of already, yet they put the patient to\ninexpressible torment; and those that fell into it, though they did\nescape with life, yet they made bitter complaints of those that had told\nthem there was no danger, and sadly repented their rashness and folly in\nventuring to run into the reach of it.\nNor did this unwary conduct of the people end here; for a great many\nthat thus cast off their cautions suffered more deeply still, and though\nmany escaped, yet many died; and at least it[310] had this public\nmischief attending it, that it made the decrease of burials slower than\nit would otherwise have been; for, as this notion ran like lightning\nthrough the city, and the people's heads were possessed with it, even as\nsoon as the first great decrease in the bills appeared, we found that\nthe two next bills did not decrease in proportion: the reason I take to\nbe the people's running so rashly into danger, giving up all their\nformer cautions and care, and all shyness which they used to practice,\ndepending that the sickness would not reach them, or that, if it did,\nthey should not die.\nThe physicians opposed this thoughtless humor of the people with all\ntheir might, and gave out printed directions, spreading them all over\nthe city and suburbs, advising the people to continue reserved, and to\nuse still the utmost caution in their ordinary conduct, notwithstanding\nthe decrease of the distemper; terrifying them with the danger of\nbringing a relapse upon the whole city, and telling them how such a\nrelapse might be more fatal and dangerous than the whole visitation that\nhad been already; with many arguments and reasons to explain and prove\nthat part to them, and which are too long to repeat here.\nBut it was all to no purpose. The audacious creatures were so possessed\nwith the first joy, and so surprised with the satisfaction of seeing a\nvast decrease in the weekly bills, that they were impenetrable by any\nnew terrors, and would not be persuaded but that the bitterness of death\nwas passed; and it was to no more purpose to talk to them than to an\neast wind; but they opened shops, went about streets, did business, and\nconversed with anybody that came in their way to converse with, whether\nwith business or without, neither inquiring of their health, or so much\nas being apprehensive of any danger from them, though they knew them not\nto be sound.\nThis imprudent, rash conduct cost a great many their lives who had with\ngreat care and caution shut themselves up, and kept retired, as it were,\nfrom all mankind, and had by that means, under God's providence, been\npreserved through all the heat of that infection.\nThis rash and foolish conduct of the people went so far, that the\nministers took notice to them of it, and laid before them both the folly\nand danger of it; and this checked it a little, so that they grew more\ncautious. But it had another effect, which they could not check: for as\nthe first rumor had spread, not over the city only, but into the\ncountry, it had the like effect; and the people were so tired with being\nso long from London, and so eager to come back, that they flocked to\ntown without fear or forecast, and began to show themselves in the\nstreets as if all the danger was over. It was indeed surprising to see\nit; for though there died still from a thousand to eighteen hundred a\nweek, yet the people flocked to town as if all had been well.\nThe consequence of this was, that the bills increased again four hundred\nthe very first week in November; and, if I might believe the physicians,\nthere were above three thousand fell sick that week, most of them\nnewcomers too.\nOne John Cock, a barber in St. Martin's-le-Grand, was an eminent example\nof this (I mean of the hasty return of the people when the plague was\nabated). This John Cock had left the town with his whole family, and\nlocked up his house, and was gone into the country, as many others did;\nand, finding the plague so decreased in November that there died but 905\nper week of all diseases, he ventured home again. He had in his family\nten persons; that is to say, himself and wife, five children, two\napprentices, and a maidservant. He had not been returned to his house\nabove a week, and began to open his shop and carry on his trade, but the\ndistemper broke out in his family, and within about five days they all\ndied except one: that is to say, himself, his wife, all his five\nchildren, and his two apprentices; and only the maid remained alive.\nBut the mercy of God was greater to the rest than we had reason to\nexpect; for the malignity, as I have said, of the distemper was spent,\nthe contagion was exhausted, and also the wintry weather came on apace,\nand the air was clear and cold, with some sharp frosts; and this\nincreasing still, most of those that had fallen sick recovered, and the\nhealth of the city began to return. There were indeed some returns of\nthe distemper, even in the month of December, and the bills increased\nnear a hundred; but it went off again, and so in a short while things\nbegan to return to their own channel. And wonderful it was to see how\npopulous the city was again all on a sudden; so that a stranger could\nnot miss the numbers that were lost, neither was there any miss of the\ninhabitants as to their dwellings. Few or no empty houses were to be\nseen, or, if there were some, there was no want of tenants for them.\nI wish I could say, that, as the city had a new face, so the manners of\nthe people had a new appearance. I doubt not but there were many that\nretained a sincere sense of their deliverance, and that were heartily\nthankful to that Sovereign Hand that had protected them in so dangerous\na time. It would be very uncharitable to judge otherwise in a city so\npopulous, and where the people were so devout as they were here in the\ntime of the visitation itself; but, except what of this was to be found\nin particular families and faces, it must be acknowledged that the\ngeneral practice of the people was just as it was before, and very\nlittle difference was to be seen.\nSome, indeed, said things were worse; that the morals of the people\ndeclined from this very time; that the people, hardened by the danger\nthey had been in, like seamen after a storm is over, were more wicked\nand more stupid, more bold and hardened in their vices and immoralities,\nthan they were before; but I will not carry it so far, neither. It would\ntake up a history of no small length to give a particular of all the\ngradations by which the course of things in this city came to be\nrestored again, and to run in their own channel as they did before.\nSome parts of England were now infected as violently as London had been.\nThe cities of Norwich, Peterborough, Lincoln, Colchester, and other\nplaces, were now visited, and the magistrates of London began to set\nrules for our conduct as to corresponding with those cities. It is true,\nwe could not pretend to forbid their people coming to London, because\nit was impossible to know them asunder; so, after many consultations,\nthe lord mayor and court of aldermen were obliged to drop it. All they\ncould do was to warn and caution the people not to entertain in their\nhouses, or converse with, any people who they knew came from such\ninfected places.\nBut they might as well have talked to the air; for the people of London\nthought themselves so plague-free now, that they were past all\nadmonitions. They seemed to depend upon it that the air was restored,\nand that the air was like a man that had had the smallpox,--not capable\nof being infected again. This revived that notion that the infection was\nall in the air; that there was no such thing as contagion from the sick\npeople to the sound; and so strongly did this whimsey prevail among\npeople, that they run altogether promiscuously, sick and well. Not the\nMohammedans, who, prepossessed with the principle of predestination,\nvalue[311] nothing of contagion, let it be in what it will, could be\nmore obstinate than the people of London. They that were perfectly\nsound, and came out of the wholesome air, as we call it, into the city,\nmade nothing of going into the same houses and chambers, nay, even into\nthe same beds, with those that had the distemper upon them, and were not\nrecovered.\nSome, indeed, paid for their audacious boldness with the price of their\nlives. An infinite number fell sick, and the physicians had more work\nthan ever, only with this difference, that more of their patients\nrecovered, that is to say, they generally recovered; but certainly there\nwere more people infected and fell sick now, when there did not die\nabove a thousand or twelve hundred a week, than there was[312] when\nthere died five or six thousand a week, so entirely negligent were the\npeople at that time in the great and dangerous case of health and\ninfection, and so ill were they able to take or except[313] of the\nadvice of those who cautioned them for their good.\nThe people being thus returned, as it were, in general, it was very\nstrange to find, that, in their inquiring after their friends, some\nwhole families were so entirely swept away that there was no remembrance\nof them left. Neither was anybody to be found to possess or show any\ntitle to that little they had left; for in such cases what was to be\nfound was generally embezzled and purloined, some gone one way, some\nanother.\nIt was said such abandoned effects came to the King as the universal\nheir; upon which we are told, and I suppose it was in part true, that\nthe King granted all such as deodands[314] to the lord mayor and court\nof aldermen of London, to be applied to the use of the poor, of whom\nthere were very many. For it is to be observed, that though the\noccasions of relief and the objects of distress were very many more in\nthe time of the violence of the plague than now, after all was over, yet\nthe distress of the poor was more now a great deal than it was then,\nbecause all the sluices of general charity were shut. People supposed\nthe main occasion to be over, and so stopped their hands; whereas\nparticular objects were still very moving, and the distress of those\nthat were poor was very great indeed.\nThough the health of the city was now very much restored, yet foreign\ntrade did not begin to stir; neither would foreigners admit our ships\ninto their ports for a great while. As for the Dutch, the\nmisunderstandings between our court and them had broken out into a war\nthe year before, so that our trade that way was wholly interrupted; but\nSpain and Portugal, Italy and Barbary,[315] as also Hamburg, and all the\nports in the Baltic,--these were all shy of us a great while, and would\nnot restore trade with us for many months.\nThe distemper sweeping away such multitudes, as I have observed, many if\nnot all of the outparishes were obliged to make new burying grounds,\nbesides that I have mentioned in Bunhill Fields, some of which were\ncontinued, and remain in use to this day; but others were left off, and,\nwhich I confess I mention with some reflection,[316] being converted\ninto other uses, or built upon afterwards, the dead bodies were\ndisturbed, abused, dug up again, some even before the flesh of them was\nperished from the bones, and removed like dung or rubbish to other\nplaces. Some of those which came within the reach of my observations are\nas follows:--\nFirst, A piece of ground beyond Goswell Street, near Mountmill, being\nsome of the remains of the old lines or fortifications of the city,\nwhere abundance were buried promiscuously from the parishes of\nAldersgate, Clerkenwell, and even out of the city. This ground, as I\ntake it, was since[317] made a physic garden,[318] and, after[319] that,\nhas been built upon.\nSecond, A piece of ground just over the Black Ditch, as it was then\ncalled, at the end of Holloway Lane, in Shoreditch Parish. It has been\nsince made a yard for keeping hogs and for other ordinary uses, but is\nquite out of use as a burying ground.\nThird, The upper end of Hand Alley, in Bishopsgate Street, which was then\na green field, and was taken in particularly for Bishopsgate Parish,\nthough many of the carts out of the city brought their dead thither also,\nparticularly out of the parish of St. Allhallows-on-the-Wall. This place\nI cannot mention without much regret. It was, as I remember, about two or\nthree years after the plague was ceased, that Sir Robert Clayton[320]\ncame to be possessed of the ground. It was reported, how true I know not,\nthat it fell to the King for want of heirs (all those who had any right\nto it being carried off by the pestilence), and that Sir Robert Clayton\nobtained a grant of it from King Charles II. But however he came by it,\ncertain it is the ground was let out to build on, or built upon by his\norder. The first house built upon it was a large fair house, still\nstanding, which faces the street or way now called Hand Alley, which,\nthough called an alley, is as wide as a street. The houses in the same\nrow with that house northward are built on the very same ground where the\npoor people were buried; and the bodies, on opening the ground for the\nfoundations, were dug up, some of them remaining so plain to be seen,\nthat the women's skulls were distinguished by their long hair, and of\nothers the flesh was not quite perished; so that the people began to\nexclaim loudly against it, and some suggested that it might endanger a\nreturn of the contagion; after which the bones and bodies, as fast as\nthey[321] came at them, were carried to another part of the same ground,\nand thrown altogether into a deep pit, dug on purpose, which now is to be\nknown[322] in that it is not built on, but is a passage to another house\nat the upper end of Rose Alley, just against the door of a meetinghouse,\nwhich has been built there many years since; and the ground is\npalisadoed[323] off from the rest of the passage in a little square.\nThere lie the bones and remains of near two thousand bodies, carried by\nthe dead carts to their grave in that one year.\nFourth, Besides this, there was a piece of ground in Moorfields, by the\ngoing into the street which is now called Old Bethlem, which was\nenlarged much, though not wholly taken in, on the same occasion.\nN.B. The author of this journal lies buried in that very ground, being\nat his own desire, his sister having been buried there a few years\nbefore.\nFifth, Stepney Parish, extending itself from the east part of London to\nthe north, even to the very edge of Shoreditch churchyard, had a piece\nof ground taken in to bury their dead, close to the said churchyard; and\nwhich, for that very reason, was left open, and is since, I suppose,\ntaken into the same churchyard. And they had also two other burying\nplaces in Spittlefields,--one where since a chapel or tabernacle has\nbeen built for ease to this great parish, and another in Petticoat Lane.\nThere were no less than five other grounds made use of for the parish of\nStepney at that time; one where now stands the parish church of St.\nPaul, Shadwell, and the other where now stands the parish church of St.\nJohn, at Wapping, both which had not the names of parishes at that time,\nbut were belonging to Stepney Parish.\nI could name many more; but these coming within my particular knowledge,\nthe circumstance, I thought, made it of use to record them. From the\nwhole, it may be observed that they were obliged in this time of\ndistress to take in new burying grounds in most of the outparishes for\nlaying the prodigious numbers of people which died in so short a space\nof time; but why care was not taken to keep those places separate from\nordinary uses, that so the bodies might rest undisturbed, that I cannot\nanswer for, and must confess I think it was wrong. Who were to blame, I\nknow not.\nI should have mentioned that the Quakers[324] had at that time also a\nburying ground set apart to their use, and which they still make use of;\nand they had also a particular dead cart to fetch their dead from their\nhouses. And the famous Solomon Eagle, who, as I mentioned before,[325]\nhad predicted the plague as a judgment, and run naked through the\nstreets, telling the people that it was come upon them to punish them\nfor their sins, had his own wife died[326] the very next day of the\nplague, and was carried, one of the first, in the Quakers' dead cart to\ntheir new burying ground.\nI might have thronged this account with many more remarkable things\nwhich occurred in the time of the infection, and particularly what\npassed between the lord mayor and the court, which was then at Oxford,\nand what directions were from time to time received from the government\nfor their conduct on this critical occasion; but really the court\nconcerned themselves so little, and that little they did was of so small\nimport, that I do not see it of much moment to mention any part of it\nhere, except that of appointing a monthly fast in the city, and the\nsending the royal charity to the relief of the poor, both which I have\nmentioned before.\nGreat was the reproach thrown upon those physicians who left their\npatients during the sickness; and, now they came to town again, nobody\ncared to employ them. They were called deserters, and frequently bills\nwere set up on their doors, and written, \"Here is a doctor to be let!\"\nSo that several of those physicians were fain for a while to sit still\nand look about them, or at least remove their dwellings and set up in\nnew places and among new acquaintance. The like was the case with the\nclergy, whom the people were indeed very abusive to, writing verses and\nscandalous reflections upon them; setting upon the church door, \"Here is\na pulpit to be let,\" or sometimes \"to be sold,\" which was worse.\nIt was not the least of our misfortunes, that with our infection, when\nit ceased, there did not cease the spirit of strife and contention,\nslander and reproach, which was really the great troubler of the\nnation's peace before. It was said to be the remains of the old\nanimosities which had so lately involved us all in blood and\ndisorder;[327] but as the late act of indemnity[328] had lain asleep the\nquarrel itself, so the government had recommended family and personal\npeace, upon all occasions, to the whole nation.\nBut it[329] could not be obtained; and particularly after the ceasing\nof the plague in London, when any one had seen the condition which the\npeople had been in, and how they caressed one another at that time,\npromised to have more charity for the future, and to raise no more\nreproaches,--I say, any one that had seen them then would have thought\nthey would have come together with another spirit at last. But, I say,\nit could not be obtained. The quarrel remained, the Church[330] and the\nPresbyterians were incompatible. As soon as the plague was removed, the\ndissenting ousted ministers who had supplied the pulpits which were\ndeserted by the incumbents, retired. They[331] could expect no other but\nthat they[332] should immediately fall upon them[331] and harass them\nwith their penal laws; accept their[331] preaching while they[332] were\nsick, and persecute them[331] as soon as they[332] were recovered again.\nThis even we that were of the Church thought was hard, and could by no\nmeans approve of it.\nBut it was the government, and we could say nothing to hinder it. We\ncould only say it was not our doing, and we could not answer for it.\nOn the other hand, the dissenters reproaching those ministers of the\nChurch with going away, and deserting their charge, abandoning the\npeople in their danger, and when they had most need of comfort, and the\nlike,--this we could by no means approve; for all men have not the same\nfaith and the same courage, and the Scripture commands us to judge the\nmost favorably, and according to charity.\nA plague is a formidable enemy, and is armed with terrors that every man\nis not sufficiently fortified to resist, or prepared to stand the shock\nagainst.[333] It is very certain that a great many of the clergy who\nwere in circumstances to do it withdrew, and fled for the safety of\ntheir lives; but it is true, also, that a great many of them staid, and\nmany of them fell in the calamity, and in the discharge of their duty.\nIt is true, some of the dissenting turned-out ministers staid, and\ntheir courage is to be commended and highly valued; but these were not\nabundance. It cannot be said that they all staid, and that none retired\ninto the country, any more than it can be said of the Church clergy that\nthey all went away. Neither did all those that went away go without\nsubstituting curates[334] and others in their places, to do the offices\nneedful, and to visit the sick as far as it was practicable. So that,\nupon the whole, an allowance of charity might have been made on both\nsides, and we should have considered that such a time as this of 1665 is\nnot to be paralleled in history, and that it is not the stoutest courage\nthat will always support men in such cases. I had not said this, but had\nrather chosen[335] to record the courage and religious zeal of those of\nboth sides who did hazard themselves for the service of the poor people\nin their distress, without remembering that any failed in their duty on\neither side; but the want of temper among us has made the contrary to\nthis necessary: some that staid, not only boasting too much of\nthemselves, but reviling those that fled, branding them with cowardice,\ndeserting their flocks, and acting the part of the hireling, and the\nlike. I recommend it to the charity of all good people to look back and\nreflect duly upon the terrors of the time; and whoever does so will see\nthat it is not an ordinary strength that could support it. It was not\nlike appearing in the head of an army, or charging a body of horse in\nthe field; but it was charging death itself on his pale horse.[336] To\nstay was indeed to die; and it could be esteemed nothing less,\nespecially as things appeared at the latter end of August and the\nbeginning of September, and as there was reason to expect them at that\ntime; for no man expected, and I dare say believed, that the distemper\nwould take so sudden a turn as it did, and fall immediately two\nthousand in a week, when there was such a prodigious number of people\nsick at that time as it was known there was; and then it was that many\nshifted[337] away that had staid most of the time before.\nBesides, if God gave strength to some more than to others, was it to\nboast of their ability to abide the stroke, and upbraid those that had\nnot the same gift and support, or ought they not rather to have been\nhumble and thankful if they were rendered more useful than their\nbrethren?\nI think it ought to be recorded to the honor of such men, as well clergy\nas physicians, surgeons, apothecaries, magistrates, and officers of\nevery kind, as also all useful people, who ventured their lives in\ndischarge of their duty, as most certainly all such as staid did to the\nlast degree; and several of these kinds did not only venture, but lost\ntheir lives on that sad occasion.\nI was once making a list of all such (I mean of all those professions\nand employments who thus died, as I call it, in the way of their duty),\nbut it was impossible for a private man to come at a certainty in the\nparticulars. I only remember that there died sixteen clergymen, two\naldermen, five physicians, thirteen surgeons, within the city and\nliberties, before the beginning of September. But this being, as I said\nbefore, the crisis and extremity of the infection, it can be no complete\nlist. As to inferior people, I think there died six and forty constables\nand headboroughs[338] in the two parishes of Stepney and Whitechapel;\nbut I could not carry my list on, for when the violent rage of the\ndistemper, in September, came upon us, it drove us out of all measure.\nMen did then no more die by tale[339] and by number: they might put out\na weekly bill, and call them seven or eight thousand, or what they\npleased. It is certain they died by heaps, and were buried by heaps;\nthat is to say, without account. And if I might believe some people who\nwere more abroad and more conversant with those things than I (though I\nwas public enough for one that had no more business to do than I\nhad),--I say, if we may believe them, there was not many less buried\nthose first three weeks in September than twenty thousand per week.\nHowever the others aver the truth of it, yet I rather choose to keep to\nthe public account. Seven or eight thousand per week is enough to make\ngood all that I have said of the terror of those times; and it is much\nto the satisfaction of me that write, as well as those that read, to be\nable to say that everything is set down with moderation, and rather\nwithin compass than beyond it.\nUpon all these accounts, I say, I could wish, when we were recovered,\nour conduct had been more distinguished for charity and kindness, in\nremembrance of the past calamity, and not so much in valuing ourselves\nupon our boldness in staying; as if all men were cowards that fly from\nthe hand of God, or that those who stay do not sometimes owe their\ncourage to their ignorance, and despising the hand of their Maker, which\nis a criminal kind of desperation, and not a true courage.\nI cannot but leave it upon record, that the civil officers, such as\nconstables, headboroughs, lord mayor's and sheriff's men, also parish\nofficers, whose business it was to take charge of the poor, did their\nduties, in general, with as much courage as any, and perhaps with more;\nbecause their work was attended with more hazards, and lay more among\nthe poor, who were more subject to be infected, and in the most pitiful\nplight when they were taken with the infection. But then it must be\nadded, too, that a great number of them died; indeed, it was scarcely\npossible it should be otherwise.\nI have not said one word here about the physic or preparations that were\nordinarily made use of on this terrible occasion (I mean we that\nfrequently went abroad up and down the streets, as I did). Much of this\nwas talked of in the books and bills of our quack doctors, of whom I\nhave said enough already. It may, however, be added, that the College of\nPhysicians were daily publishing several preparations, which they had\nconsidered of in the process of their practice; and which, being to be\nhad in print, I avoid repeating them for that reason.\nOne thing I could not help observing,--what befell one of the quacks,\nwho published that he had a most excellent preservative against the\nplague, which whoever kept about them should never be infected, or\nliable to infection. This man, who, we may reasonably suppose, did not\ngo abroad without some of this excellent preservative in his pocket, yet\nwas taken by the distemper, and carried off in two or three days.\nI am not of the number of the physic haters or physic despisers (on the\ncontrary, I have often mentioned the regard I had to the dictates of my\nparticular friend Dr. Heath); but yet I must acknowledge I made use of\nlittle or nothing, except, as I have observed, to keep a preparation of\nstrong scent, to have ready in case I met with anything of offensive\nsmells, or went too near any burying place or dead body.\nNeither did I do, what I know some did, keep the spirits high and hot\nwith cordials and wine, and such things, and which, as I observed, one\nlearned physician used himself so much to, as that he could not leave\nthem off when the infection was quite gone, and so became a sot for all\nhis life after.\nI remember my friend the doctor used to say that there was a certain set\nof drugs and preparations which were all certainly good and useful in\nthe case of an infection, out of which or with which physicians might\nmake an infinite variety of medicines, as the ringers of bells make\nseveral hundred different rounds of music by the changing and order of\nsound but in six bells; and that all these preparations shall[340] be\nreally very good. \"Therefore,\" said he, \"I do not wonder that so vast a\nthrong of medicines is offered in the present calamity, and almost every\nphysician prescribes or prepares a different thing, as his judgment or\nexperience guides him; but,\" says my friend, \"let all the prescriptions\nof all the physicians in London be examined, and it will be found that\nthey are all compounded of the same things, with such variations only as\nthe particular fancy of the doctor leads him to; so that,\" says he,\n\"every man, judging a little of his own constitution and manner of his\nliving, and circumstances of his being infected, may direct his own\nmedicines out of the ordinary drugs and preparations. Only that,\" says\nhe, \"some recommend one thing as most sovereign, and some another.\nSome,\" says he, \"think that Pill. Ruff., which is called itself the\nantipestilential pill, is the best preparation that can be made; others\nthink that Venice treacle[341] is sufficient of itself to resist the\ncontagion; and I,\" says he, \"think as both these think, viz., that the\nfirst is good to take beforehand to prevent it, and the last, if\ntouched, to expel it.\" According to this opinion, I several times took\nVenice treacle, and a sound sweat upon it, and thought myself as well\nfortified against the infection as any one could be fortified by the\npower of physic.\nAs for quackery and mountebank, of which the town was so full, I\nlistened to none of them, and observed often since, with some wonder,\nthat for two years after the plague I scarcely ever heard one of them\nabout the town. Some fancied they were all swept away in the infection\nto a man, and were for calling it a particular mark of God's vengeance\nupon them for leading the poor people into the pit of destruction merely\nfor the lucre of a little money they got by them; but I cannot go that\nlength, neither. That abundance of them died is certain (many of them\ncame within the reach of my own knowledge); but that all of them were\nswept off, I much question. I believe, rather, they fled into the\ncountry, and tried their practices upon the people there, who were in\napprehension of the infection before it came among them.\nThis, however, is certain, not a man of them appeared for a great while\nin or about London. There were indeed several doctors who published\nbills recommending their several physical preparations for cleansing the\nbody, as they call it, after the plague, and needful, as they said, for\nsuch people to take who had been visited and had been cured; whereas, I\nmust own, I believe that it was the opinion of the most eminent\nphysicians of that time, that the plague was itself a sufficient purge,\nand that those who escaped the infection needed no physic to cleanse\ntheir bodies of any other things (the running sores, the tumors, etc.,\nwhich were broken and kept open by the direction of the physicians,\nhaving sufficiently cleansed them); and that all other distempers, and\ncauses of distempers, were effectually carried off that way. And as the\nphysicians gave this as their opinion wherever they came, the quacks got\nlittle business.\nThere were indeed several little hurries which happened after the\ndecrease of the plague, and which, whether they were contrived to fright\nand disorder the people, as some imagined, I cannot say; but sometimes\nwe were told the plague would return by such a time; and the famous\nSolomon Eagle, the naked Quaker I have mentioned, prophesied evil\ntidings every day, and several others, telling us that London had not\nbeen sufficiently scourged, and the sorer and severer strokes were yet\nbehind. Had they stopped there, or had they descended to particulars,\nand told us that the city should be the next year destroyed by fire,\nthen, indeed, when we had seen it come to pass, we should not have been\nto blame to have paid more than common respect to their prophetic\nspirits (at least, we should have wondered at them, and have been more\nserious in our inquiries after the meaning of it, and whence they had\nthe foreknowledge); but as they generally told us of a relapse into the\nplague, we have had no concern since that about them. Yet by those\nfrequent clamors we were all kept with some kind of apprehensions\nconstantly upon us; and if any died suddenly, or if the spotted fevers\nat any time increased, we were presently alarmed; much more if the\nnumber of the plague increased, for to the end of the year there were\nalways between two and three hundred[342] of the plague. On any of these\noccasions, I say, we were alarmed anew.\nThose who remember the city of London before the fire must remember that\nthere was then no such place as that we now call Newgate Market; but in\nthe middle of the street, which is now called Blow Bladder Street, and\nwhich had its name from the butchers, who used to kill and dress their\nsheep there (and who, it seems, had a custom to blow up their meat with\npipes, to make it look thicker and fatter than it was, and were punished\nthere for it by the lord mayor),--I say, from the end of the street\ntowards Newgate there stood two long rows of shambles for the\nselling[343] meat.\nIt was in those shambles that two persons falling down dead as they were\nbuying meat, gave rise to a rumor that the meat was all infected; which\nthough it might affright the people, and spoiled the market for two or\nthree days, yet it appeared plainly afterwards that there was nothing of\ntruth in the suggestion: but nobody can account for the possession of\nfear when it takes hold of the mind. However, it pleased God, by the\ncontinuing of the winter weather, so to restore the health of the city,\nthat by February following we reckoned the distemper quite ceased, and\nthen we were not easily frighted again.\nThere was still a question among the learned, and[344] at first\nperplexed the people a little; and that was, in what manner to purge the\nhouses and goods where the plague had been, and how to render them[345]\nhabitable again which had been left empty during the time of the plague.\nAbundance of perfumes and preparations were prescribed by physicians,\nsome of one kind, some of another, in which the people who listened to\nthem put themselves to a great, and indeed in my opinion to an\nunnecessary, expense; and the poorer people, who only set open their\nwindows night and day, burnt brimstone, pitch, and gunpowder, and such\nthings, in their rooms, did as well as the best; nay, the eager people\nwho, as I said above, came home in haste and at all hazards, found\nlittle or no inconvenience in their houses, nor in their goods, and did\nlittle or nothing to them.\nHowever, in general, prudent, cautious people did enter into some\nmeasures for airing and sweetening their houses, and burnt perfumes,\nincense, benjamin,[346] resin, and sulphur in their rooms, close shut\nup, and then let the air carry it all out with a blast of gunpowder;\nothers caused large fires to be made all day and all night for several\ndays and nights. By the same token that[347] two or three were pleased\nto set their houses on fire, and so effectually sweetened them by\nburning them down to the ground (as particularly one at Ratcliff, one in\nHolborn, and one at Westminster, besides two or three that were set on\nfire; but the fire was happily got out again before it went far enough\nto burn down the houses); and one citizen's servant, I think it was in\nThames Street, carried so much gunpowder into his master's house, for\nclearing it of the infection, and managed it so foolishly, that he blew\nup part of the roof of the house. But the time was not fully come that\nthe city was to be purged with fire, nor was it far off; for within nine\nmonths more I saw it all lying in ashes, when, as some of our quaking\nphilosophers pretend, the seeds of the plague were entirely destroyed,\nand not before,--a notion too ridiculous to speak of here, since, had\nthe seeds of the plague remained in the houses, not to be destroyed but\nby fire, how has it been that they have not since broken out, seeing all\nthose buildings in the suburbs and liberties, all in the great parishes\nof Stepney, Whitechapel, Aldgate, Bishopsgate, Shoreditch, Cripplegate,\nand St. Giles's, where the fire never came, and where the plague raced\nwith the greatest violence, remain still in the same condition they were\nin before?\nBut to leave these things just as I found them, it was certain that\nthose people who were more than ordinarily cautious of their health did\ntake particular directions for what they called seasoning of their\nhouses; and abundance of costly things were consumed on that account,\nwhich I cannot but say not only seasoned those houses as they desired,\nbut filled the air with very grateful and wholesome smells, which others\nhad the share of the benefit of, as well as those who were at the\nexpenses of them.\nThough the poor came to town very precipitantly, as I have said, yet, I\nmust say, the rich made no such haste. The men of business, indeed, came\nup, but many of them did not bring their families to town till the\nspring came on, and that they saw reason to depend upon it that the\nplague would not return.\nThe court, indeed, came up soon after Christmas; but the nobility and\ngentry, except such as depended upon and had employment under the\nadministration, did not come so soon.\nI should have taken notice here, that notwithstanding the violence of\nthe plague in London and other places, yet it was very observable that\nit was never on board the fleet; and yet for some time there was a\nstrange press[348] in the river, and even in the streets, for seamen to\nman the fleet. But it was in the beginning of the year, when the plague\nwas scarce begun, and not at all come down to that part of the city\nwhere they usually press for seamen; and though a war with the Dutch was\nnot at all grateful to the people at that time, and the seamen went with\na kind of reluctancy into the service, and many complained of being\ndragged into it by force, yet it proved, in the event, a happy violence\nto several of them, who had probably perished in the general calamity,\nand who, after the summer service was over, though they had cause to\nlament the desolation of their families (who, when they came back, were\nmany of them in their graves), yet they had room to be thankful that\nthey were carried out of the reach of it, though so much against their\nwills. We, indeed, had a hot war with the Dutch that year, and one very\ngreat engagement[349] at sea, in which the Dutch were worsted; but we\nlost a great many men and some ships. But, as I observed, the plague was\nnot in the fleet; and when they came to lay up the ships in the river,\nthe violent part of it began to abate.\nI would be glad if I could close the account of this melancholy year\nwith some particular examples historically, I mean of the thankfulness\nto God, our Preserver, for our being delivered from this dreadful\ncalamity. Certainly the circumstances of the deliverance, as well as the\nterrible enemy we were delivered from, called upon the whole nation for\nit. The circumstances of the deliverance were indeed very remarkable, as\nI have in part mentioned already; and particularly the dreadful\ncondition which we were all in, when we were, to the surprise of the\nwhole town, made joyful with the hope of a stop to the infection.\nNothing but the immediate finger of God, nothing but omnipotent power,\ncould have done it. The contagion despised all medicine, death raged in\nevery corner; and, had it gone on as it did then, a few weeks more would\nhave cleared the town of all and everything that had a soul. Men\neverywhere began to despair; every heart failed them for fear; people\nwere made desperate through the anguish of their souls; and the terrors\nof death sat in the very faces and countenances of the people.\nIn that very moment, when we might very well say, \"Vain was the help of\nman,\"[350]--I say, in that very moment it pleased God, with a most\nagreeable surprise, to cause the fury of it to abate, even of itself;\nand the malignity declining, as I have said, though infinite numbers\nwere sick, yet fewer died; and the very first week's bill decreased\n1,843, a vast number indeed.\nIt is impossible to express the change that appeared in the very\ncountenances of the people that Thursday morning when the weekly bill\ncame out. It might have been perceived in their countenances that a\nsecret surprise and smile of joy sat on everybody's face. They shook one\nanother by the hands in the streets, who would hardly go on the same\nside of the way with one another before. Where the streets were not too\nbroad, they would open their windows and call from one house to another,\nand asked how they did, and if they had heard the good news that the\nplague was abated. Some would return, when they said good news, and ask,\n\"What good news?\" And when they answered that the plague was abated, and\nthe bills decreased almost two thousand, they would cry out, \"God be\npraised!\" and would weep aloud for joy, telling them they had heard\nnothing of it; and such was the joy of the people, that it was, as it\nwere, life to them from the grave. I could almost set down as many\nextravagant things done in the excess of their joy as of their grief;\nbut that would be to lessen the value of it.\nI must confess myself to have been very much dejected just before this\nhappened; for the prodigious numbers that were taken sick the week or\ntwo before, besides those that died, was[351] such, and the lamentations\nwere so great everywhere, that a man must have seemed to have acted even\nagainst his reason if he had so much as expected to escape; and as there\nwas hardly a house but mine in all my neighborhood but what was\ninfected, so, had it gone on, it would not have been long that there\nwould have been any more neighbors to be infected. Indeed, it is hardly\ncredible what dreadful havoc the last three weeks had made: for, if I\nmight believe the person whose calculations I always found very well\ngrounded, there were not less than thirty thousand people dead, and near\none hundred thousand fallen sick, in the three weeks I speak of; for the\nnumber that sickened was surprising, indeed it was astonishing, and\nthose whose courage upheld them all the time before, sunk under it now.\nIn the middle of their distress, when the condition of the city of\nLondon was so truly calamitous, just then it pleased God, as it were, by\nhis immediate hand, to disarm this enemy: the poison was taken out of\nthe sting. It was wonderful. Even the physicians themselves were\nsurprised at it. Wherever they visited, they found their patients\nbetter,--either they had sweated kindly, or the tumors were broke, or\nthe carbuncles went down and the inflammations round them changed color,\nor the fever was gone, or the violent headache was assuaged, or some\ngood symptom was in the case,--so that in a few days everybody was\nrecovering. Whole families that were infected and down, that had\nministers praying with them, and expected death every hour, were revived\nand healed, and none died at all out of them.\nNor was this by any new medicine found out, or new method of cure\ndiscovered, or by any experience in the operation which the physicians\nor surgeons attained to; but it was evidently from the secret invisible\nhand of Him that had at first sent this disease as a judgment upon us.\nAnd let the atheistic part of mankind call my saying what they please,\nit is no enthusiasm: it was acknowledged at that time by all mankind.\nThe disease was enervated, and its malignity spent; and let it proceed\nfrom whencesoever it will, let the philosophers search for reasons in\nnature to account for it by, and labor as much as they will to lessen\nthe debt they owe to their Maker, those physicians who had the least\nshare of religion in them were obliged to acknowledge that it was all\nsupernatural, that it was extraordinary, and that no account could be\ngiven of it.\nIf I should say that this is a visible summons to us all to\nthankfulness, especially we that were under the terror of its increase,\nperhaps it may be thought by some, after the sense of the thing was\nover, an officious canting of religious things, preaching a sermon\ninstead of writing a history, making myself a teacher instead of giving\nmy observations of things (and this restrains me very much from going on\nhere, as I might otherwise do); but if ten lepers were healed, and but\none returned to give thanks, I desire to be as that one, and to be\nthankful for myself.\nNor will I deny but there were abundance of people who, to all\nappearance, were very thankful at that time: for their mouths were\nstopped, even the mouths of those whose hearts were not extraordinarily\nlong affected with it; but the impression was so strong at that time,\nthat it could not be resisted, no, not by the worst of the people.\nIt was a common thing to meet people in the street that were strangers,\nand that we knew nothing at all of, expressing their surprise. Going one\nday through Aldgate, and a pretty many people being passing and\nrepassing, there comes a man out of the end of the Minories; and,\nlooking a little up the street and down, he throws his hands abroad:\n\"Lord, what an alteration is here! Why, last week I came along here, and\nhardly anybody was to be seen.\" Another man (I heard him) adds to his\nwords, \"'Tis all wonderful; 'tis all a dream.\"--\"Blessed be God!\" says a\nthird man; \"and let us give thanks to him, for 'tis all his own doing.\"\nHuman help and human skill were at an end. These were all strangers to\none another, but such salutations as these were frequent in the street\nevery day; and, in spite of a loose behavior, the very common people\nwent along the streets, giving God thanks for their deliverance.\nIt was now, as I said before, the people had cast off all apprehensions,\nand that too fast. Indeed, we were no more afraid now to pass by a man\nwith a white cap upon his head, or with a cloth wrapped round his neck,\nor with his leg limping, occasioned by the sores in his groin,--all\nwhich were frightful to the last degree but the week before. But now the\nstreet was full of them, and these poor recovering creatures, give them\ntheir due, appeared very sensible of their unexpected deliverance, and I\nshould wrong them very much if I should not acknowledge that I believe\nmany of them were really thankful; but I must own that for the\ngenerality of the people it might too justly be said of them, as was\nsaid of the children of Israel after their being delivered from the host\nof Pharaoh, when they passed the Red Sea, and looked back and saw the\nEgyptians overwhelmed in the water, viz., \"that they sang his praise,\nbut they soon forgot his works.\"[352]\nI can go no further here. I should be counted censorious, and perhaps\nunjust, if I should enter into the unpleasing work of reflecting,\nwhatever cause there was for it, upon the unthankfulness and return of\nall manner of wickedness among us, which I was so much an eyewitness of\nmyself. I shall conclude the account of this calamitous year, therefore,\nwith a coarse but a sincere stanza of my own, which I placed at the end\nof my ordinary memorandums the same year they were written:--\n    A dreadful plague in London was,\n      In the year sixty-five,\n    Which swept an hundred thousand souls\n      Away, yet I alive.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[4] It was popularly believed in London that the plague came from\nHolland; but the sanitary (or rather unsanitary) conditions of London\nitself were quite sufficient to account for the plague's originating\nthere. Andrew D. White tells us, that it is difficult to decide to-day\nbetween Constantinople and New York as candidates for the distinction of\nbeing the dirtiest city in the world.\n[5] Incorrectly used for \"councils.\"\n[6] In April, 1663, the first Drury Lane Theater had been opened. The\npresent Drury Lane Theater (the fourth) stands on the same site.\n[7] The King's ministers. At this time they held office during the\npleasure of the Crown, not, as now, during the pleasure of a\nparliamentary majority.\n[8] Gangrene spots (see text, pp. 197, 198).\n[9] The local government of London at this time was chiefly in the hands\nof the vestries of the different parishes. It is only of recent years\nthat the power of these vestries has been seriously curtailed, and\ntransferred to district councils.\n[10] The report.\n[11] Pronounced H[=o]\u00b4burn. {Transcriber's note: [=o] indicates o-macron}\n[13] Were.\n[14] Outlying districts; so called because they enjoyed certain\nmunicipal immunities, or liberties. Until recent years, a portion of\nPhiladelphia was known as the \"Northern Liberties.\"\n[15] Attempts to believe the evil lessened.\n[17] Were.\n[18] The chief executive officer of the city of London still bears this\ntitle.\n[19] One of the many instances in which Defoe mixes his tenses.\n[20] Whom. We shall find many more instances of Defoe's misuse of this\nform, as also of others (see Introduction, p. 15).\n[21] Used almost in its original sense of a military barrier.\n[22] Whom.\n[23] See Matt, xxvii. 40; Mark xv. 30; Luke xxiii. 35.\n[24] Denial.\n[25] The civil war between the Royalists and the Parliamentarians,\n[26] Whom.\n[27] This argument is neatly introduced to account for the narrator's\nstaying in the city at all, when he could easily have escaped.\n[28] Explained by the two following phrases.\n[29] Whom.\n[30] \"Lay close to me,\" i.e., was constantly in my mind.\n[31] Kept safe from the plague.\n[32] \"My times are in thy hand\" (Ps. xxxi. 15).\n[33] Dorking is about twenty miles southwest of London.\n[34] Rather St. Martin's-in-the-Fields and St. Giles's.\n[36] Charles II. and his courtiers. The immunity of Oxford was doubtless\ndue to good drainage and general cleanliness.\n[38] Have seen.\n[39] Nor. This misuse of \"or\" for \"nor\" is frequent with Defoe.\n[40] The four inns of court in London which have the exclusive right of\ncalling to the bar, are the Inner Temple, the Middle Temple, Lincoln's\nInn, and Gray's Inn. The Temple is so called because it was once the\nhome of the Knights Templars.\n[41] The city proper, i.e., the part within the walls, as distinguished\nfrom that without.\n[42] Were.\n[43] The population of London at this time was probably about half a\nmillion. It is now about six millions. (See Macaulay's History, chap.\niii.)\n[44] Acel\u00b4dama, the field of blood (see Matt. xxvii. 8).\n[45] Phlegmatic hypochondriac is a contradiction in terms; for\n\"phlegmatic\" means \"impassive, self-restrained,\" while \"hypochondriac\"\nmeans \"morbidly anxious\" (about one's health). Defoe's lack of\nscholarship was a common jest among his more learned adversaries, such\nas Swift, and Pope.\n[46] It was in this very plague year that Newton formulated his theory\nof gravitation. Incredible as it may seem, at this same date even such\nmen as Dryden held to a belief in astrology.\n[47] William Lilly was the most famous astrologer and almanac maker of\nthe time. In Butler's Hudibras he is satirized under the name of\nSidrophel.\n[48] Poor Robin's Almanack was first published in 1661 or 1662, and was\nascribed to Robert Herrick, the poet.\n[49] See Rev. xviii. 4.\n[50] Jonah iii. 4.\n[51] Flavius Josephus, the author of the History of the Jewish Wars. He\nis supposed to have died in the last decade of the first century A.D.\n[52] So called because many Frenchmen lived there. In Westminster there\nwas another district with this same name.\n[53] \"Gave them vapors,\" i.e., put them into a state of nervous\nexcitement.\n[54] Soothsayers.\n[55] In astrology, the scheme or figure of the heavens at the moment of\na person's birth. From this the astrologers pretended to foretell a\nman's destiny.\n[56] Roger Bacon, a Franciscan friar of the thirteenth century, had a\nknowledge of mechanics and optics far in advance of his age: hence he\nwas commonly regarded as a wizard. The brazen head which he manufactured\nwas supposed to assist him in his necromantic feats; it is so introduced\nby Greene in his play of Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay (1594).\n[57] A fortune teller who lived in the reign of Henry VIII., and was\nfamous for her prophecies.\n[58] The most celebrated magician of medi\u00e6val times (see Spenser's\nFa\u00ebrie Queene and Tennyson's Merlin and Vivien).\n[59] Linen collar or ruff.\n[61] The interlude was originally a short, humorous play acted in the\nmidst of a morality play to relieve the tedium of that very tedious\nperformance. From the interlude was developed farce; and from farce,\ncomedy.\n[62] Charles II. and his courtiers, from their long exile in France,\nbrought back to England with them French fashions in literature and in\nart.\n[63] To be acted.\n[64] Buffoons, clowns.\n[65] About 62\u00bd cents.\n[66] About twenty-five dollars; but the purchasing power of money was\nthen seven or eight times what it is now.\n[67] Strictly speaking, this word means \"love potions.\"\n[68] Exorcism is the act of expelling evil spirits, or the formula used\nin the act. Defoe's use of the word here is careless and inaccurate.\n[69] Bits of metal, parchment, etc., worn as charms.\n[70] Making the sign of the cross.\n[71] Paper on which were marked the signs of the zodiac,--a superstition\nfrom astrology.\n[72] A meaningless word used in incantations. Originally the name of a\nSyrian deity.\n[73] Iesus Hominum Salvator (\"Jesus, Savior of Men\"). The order of the\nJesuits was founded by Ignatius de Loyola in 1534.\n[74] The Feast of St. Michael, Sept. 29.\n[75] This use of \"to\" for \"of\" is frequent with Defoe.\n[76] The Royal College of Physicians was founded by Thomas Linacre,\nphysician to Henry VIII. Nearly every London physician of prominence is\na member.\n[77] The city of London proper lies entirely in the county of Middlesex.\n[78] Literally, \"hand workers;\" now contracted into \"surgeons.\"\n[79] Cares, duties.\n[80] Consenting knowledge.\n[81] Disposed of to the public, put in circulation.\n[82] That is, by the disease.\n[83] Happen.\n[84] Engaged.\n[85] Heaps of rubbish.\n[86] A kind of parish constable.\n[87] The writer seems to mean that the beggars are so importunate, there\nis no avoiding them.\n[88] Fights between dogs and bears. This was not declared a criminal\noffense in England until 1835.\n[89] Contests with sword and shield.\n[90] The guilds or organizations of tradesmen, such as the goldsmiths,\nthe fishmongers, the merchant tailors.\n[91] St. Katherine's by the Tower.\n[92] Trinity (east of the) Minories. The Minories (a street running\nnorth from the Tower) was so designated from an abbey of St. Clare nuns\ncalled Minoresses. They took their name from that of the Franciscan\nOrder, Fratres Minores, or Lesser Brethren.\n[93] St. Luke's.\n[94] St. Botolph's, Bishopsgate.\n[95] St. Giles's, Cripplegate.\n[96] Were.\n[97] Chemise.\n[98] This word is misplaced; it should go before \"perish.\"\n[99] Before \"having,\" supply \"the master.\"\n[100] Fences.\n[102] This old form for \"caught\" is used frequently by Defoe.\n[103] Came to grief.\n[104] \"Who, being,\" etc., i.e., who, although single men, had yet staid.\n[105] The wars of the Commonwealth or of the Puritan Revolution,\n[106] Holland and Belgium.\n[107] \"Hurt of,\" a common form of expression used in Defoe's time.\n[108] Manager, economist. This meaning of \"husband\" is obsolete.\n[109] A participial form of expression very common in Old English, the\n\"a\" being a corruption of \"in\" or \"on.\"\n[111] \"'Name of God,\" i.e., in the name of God.\n[112] Torches.\n[113] \"To and again,\" i.e., to and fro.\n[116] Magpie.\n[117] This word is from the same root as \"lamp.\" The old form \"lanthorn\"\ncrept in from the custom of making the sides of a lantern of horn.\n[118] Supply \"be.\"\n[119] Inclination.\n[120] In expectation of the time when.\n[121] Their being checked.\n[122] This paragraph could hardly have been more clumsily expressed. It\nwill be found a useful exercise to rewrite it.\n[123] \"To have gone,\" i.e., to go.\n[124] Spotted.\n[125] \"Make shift,\" i.e., endure it.\n[126] Device, expedient.\n[127] \"In all\" is evidently a repetition.\n[128] Objects cannot very well happen. Defoe must mean, \"the many dismal\nsights I saw as I went about the streets.\"\n[130] \"Rosin\" is a long-established misspelling for \"resin.\" Resin\nexudes from pine trees, and from it the oil of turpentine is separated\nby distillation.\n[131] As distinguished from fish meat.\n[132] Defoe uses these pronouns in the wrong number, as in numerous\nother instances.\n[133] The projecting part of a building.\n[134] Their miraculous preservation was wrought by their keeping in the\nfresh air of the open fields. It seems curious that after this object\nlesson the physicians persisted in their absurd policy of shutting up\ninfected houses, thus practically condemning to death their inmates.\n[135] Used here for \"this,\" as also in many other places.\n[136] Supply \"with.\"\n[137] Such touches as this created a widespread and long-enduring belief\nthat Defoe's fictitious diary was an authentic history.\n[138] \"Running out,\" etc., i.e., losing their self-control.\n[139] Idiocy. In modern English, \"idiotism\" is the same as \"idiom.\"\n[140] Gangrene, death of the soft tissues.\n[141] Before \"that\" supply \"we have been told.\"\n[142] Hanging was at this time a common punishment for theft. In his\nnovel Moll Flanders, Defoe has a vivid picture of the mental and\nphysical sufferings of a woman who was sent to Newgate, and condemned to\ndeath, for stealing two pieces of silk.\n[143] Cloth, rag.\n[144] They could no longer give them regular funerals, but had to bury\nthem promiscuously in pits.\n[145] Evidently a repetition.\n[146] In old and middle English two negatives did not make an\naffirmative, as they do in modern English.\n[147] It is now well known that rue has no qualities that are useful for\nwarding off contagion.\n[148] \"Set up,\" i.e., began to play upon.\n[149] Constrained.\n[150] Because they would have been refused admission to other ports.\n[151] Matter. So used by Sheridan in The Rivals, act iii. sc. 2.\n[152] Probably a misprint for \"greatly.\"\n[155] He has really given two days more than two months.\n[156] A count.\n[157] Range, limits.\n[158] Unknown.\n[159] Lying.\n[161] Notice this skillful touch to give verisimilitude to the\nnarrative.\n[162] Country.\n[163] \"Without the bars,\" i.e., outside the old city limits.\n[164] Profession.\n[165] The plague.\n[166] The legal meaning of \"hamlet\" in England is a village without a\nchurch of its own: ecclesiastically, therefore, it belongs to the parish\nof some other village.\n[167] All Protestant sects other than the Established Church of England.\n[168] A groat equals fourpence, about eight cents. It is not coined now.\n[169] A farthing equals one quarter of a penny.\n[170] About ten miles down the Thames.\n[171] The _t_ is silent in this word.\n[172] Hard-tack, pilot bread.\n[173] Old form for \"rode.\"\n[174] See the last sentence of the next paragraph but one.\n[175] Roadstead, an anchoring ground less sheltered than a harbor.\n[176] Substitute \"that they would not be visited.\"\n[177] The plague.\n[178] St. Margaret's.\n[179] _Nota bene_, note well.\n[180] Dul\u00b4ich. All these places are southward from London. Norwood is\nsix miles distant.\n[181] Old form of \"dared.\"\n[182] Small vessels, generally schooner-rigged, used for carrying heavy\nfreight on rivers and harbors.\n[183] London Bridge.\n[184] This incident is so overdone, that it fails to be pathetic, and\nrather excites our laughter.\n[185] Supply \"themselves.\"\n[186] Barnet was about eleven miles north-northwest of London.\n[187] Holland and Belgium.\n[188] See Luke xvii. 11-19.\n[190] With speed, in haste.\n[191] This word is misplaced. It should go immediately before \"to\nlodge.\"\n[194] A small sail set high upon the mast.\n[195] \"Fetched a long compass,\" i.e., went by a circuitous route.\n[196] The officers.\n[197] Refused.\n[198] Nearly twenty miles northeast of London.\n[199] He. This pleonastic use of a conjunction with the relative is\ncommon among illiterate writers and speakers to-day.\n[200] Waltham and Epping, towns two or three miles apart, at a distance\nof ten or twelve miles almost directly north of London.\n[201] Pollard trees are trees cut back nearly to the trunk, and so\ncaused to grow into a thick head (_poll_) of branches.\n[202] Entertainment. In this sense, the plural, \"quarters,\" is the\ncommoner form.\n[203] Preparing.\n[204] Peddlers.\n[205] \"Has been,\" an atrocious solecism for \"were.\"\n[206] To a miraculous extent.\n[207] \"Put to it,\" i.e., hard pressed.\n[208] There are numerous references in the Hebrew Scriptures to parched\ncorn as an article of food (see, among others, Lev. xxiii. 14, Ruth ii.\n[211] Substitute \"would.\"\n[213] Familiar intercourse.\n[214] Evidently a repetition.\n[215] \"For that,\" i.e., because.\n[216] Singly.\n[217] Supply \"to be.\"\n[218] Buildings the rafters of which lean against or rest upon the outer\nwall of another building.\n[219] Supply \"of.\"\n[220] The plague.\n[221] \"Middling people,\" i.e., people of the middle class.\n[222] At the mouth of the Thames.\n[223] Awnings.\n[224] Two heavy timbers placed horizontally, the upper one of which can\nbe raised. When lowered, it is held in place by a padlock. Notches in\nthe timbers form holes, through which the prisoner's legs are thrust,\nand held securely.\n[225] The constables.\n[226] The carters.\n[227] The goods.\n[228] In spite of, notwithstanding.\n[229] Supply \"who.\"\n[230] \"Cum aliis,\" i.e., with others. Most of the places mentioned in\nthis list are several miles distant from London: for example, Enfield is\nten miles northeast; Hadley, over fifty miles northeast; Hertford,\ntwenty miles north; Kingston, ten miles southwest; St. Albans, twenty\nmiles northwest; Uxbridge, fifteen miles west; Windsor, twenty miles\nwest; etc.\n[231] Kindly regarded.\n[232] Which.\n[233] The citizens.\n[234] Such statements.\n[235] For \"so that,\" substitute \"so.\"\n[237] It was not known in Defoe's time that minute disease germs may be\ncarried along by a current of air.\n[238] Affected with scurvy.\n[239] \"Which,\" as applied to persons, is a good Old English idiom, and\nwas in common use as late as 1711 (see Spectator No. 78; and Matt. vi.\n9, version of 1611).\n[240] Flung to.\n[241] Changed their garments.\n[242] Supply \"I heard.\"\n[244] Various periods are assigned for the duration of the dog days:\nperhaps July 3 to Aug. 11 is that most commonly accepted. The dog days\nwere so called because they coincided with the heliacal rising of Sirius\nor Canicula (the little dog).\n[245] An inn with this title (and probably a picture of the brothers)\npainted on its signboard.\n[247] The Act of Uniformity was passed in 1661. It required all\nmunicipal officers and all ministers to take the communion according to\nthe ritual of the Church of England, and to sign a document declaring\nthat arms must never be borne against the King. For refusing obedience\nto this tyrannical measure, some two thousand Presbyterian ministers\nwere deprived of their livings.\n[248] Madness, as in Hamlet, act iii. sc. 1.\n[249] \"Represented themselves,\" etc., i.e., presented themselves to my\nsight.\n[250] \"Dead part of the night,\" i.e., from midnight to dawn. Compare,\n \"In the dead waste and middle of the night.\"\n _Hamlet_, act i. sc 2.\n[251] \"Have been critical,\" etc., i.e., have claimed to have knowledge\nenough to say.\n[252] Being introduced.\n[253] The plague.\n[254] \"First began\" is a solecism common in the newspaper writing of\nto-day.\n[255] Literally, laws of the _by_ (town). In modern usage, \"by-law\" is\nused to designate a rule less general and less easily amended than a\nconstitutional provision.\n[256] \"Sheriff\" is equivalent to _shire-reeve_ (magistrate of the county\nor shire). London had, and still has, two sheriffs.\n[257] Acted.\n[258] The inspection, according to ordinance, of weights, measures, and\nprices.\n[259] \"Pretty many,\" i.e., a fair number of.\n[260] The officers.\n[262] \"Falls to the serious part,\" i.e., begins to discourse on serious\nmatters.\n[263] See note, p. 28. The Mohammedans are fatalists.\n{Transcriber's note: The reference is to footnote 28.}\n[264] A growth of osseous tissue uniting the extremities of fractured\nbones.\n[265] Disclosed.\n[266] The officers.\n[267] Leading principle.\n[268] Defoe means, \"can burn only a few houses.\" In the next line he\nagain misplaces \"only.\"\n[269] Put to confusion.\n[270] Left out of consideration.\n[271] The distemper.\n[272] A means for discovering whether the person were infected or not.\n[273] Defoe's ignorance of microscopes was not shared by Robert Hooke,\nwhose Micrographia (published in 1664) records numerous discoveries made\nwith that instrument.\n[274] Roup is a kind of chicken's catarrh.\n[275] Them, i.e., such experiments.\n[276] From the Latin _quadraginta_ (\"forty\").\n[277] From the Latin _sexaginta_ (\"sixty\").\n[278] Kinds, species.\n[279] Old age.\n[280] Abscesses.\n[281] Himself.\n[282] The essential oils of lavender, cloves, and camphor, added to\nacetic acid.\n[283] In chemistry, balsams are vegetable juices consisting of resins\nmixed with gums or volatile oils.\n[284] Supply \"they declined coming to public worship.\"\n[285] This condition of affairs.\n[286] Collar.\n[287] Economy.\n[288] Supply \"they were.\"\n[289] Action (obsolete in this sense). See this word as used in 2 Henry\nIV., act iv. sc. 4.\n[290] Which.\n[291] Sailors' slang for \"Archipelagoes.\"\n[292] An important city in Asia Minor.\n[293] A city in northern Syria, better known as Iskanderoon or\nAlexandretta. The town was named in honor of Alexander the Great, the\nTurkish form of Alexander being Iskander.\n[294] Though called a kingdom, Algarve was nothing but a province of\nPortugal. It is known now as Faro.\n[295] The natives of Flanders, a medi\u00e6val countship now divided among\nHolland, Belgium, and France.\n[296] Colonies. In the reign of Charles II., the English colonies were\ngoverned by a committee (of the Privy Council) known as the \"Council of\nPlantations.\"\n[297] The east side.\n[298] On the west side.\n[299] See map of England for all these places. Feversham is in Kent,\nforty-five miles southeast of London; Margate is on the Isle of Thanet,\neighty miles southeast.\n[300] Commission merchants.\n[301] Privateers. _Capers_ is a Dutch word.\n[302] Supply \"he.\"\n[303] Supply \"the coals.\"\n[304] \"One another,\" by a confusion of constructions, has been used here\nfor \"them.\"\n[305] By a statute of Charles II. a chaldron was fixed at 36 coal\nbushels. In the United States, it is generally 26\u00bc hundredweight.\n[306] Opening.\n[307] \"To seek,\" i.e., without judgment or knowledge.\n[308] Mixing.\n[310] This unwary conduct.\n[311] Think.\n[313] Accept.\n[314] Personal chattels that had occasioned the death of a human being,\nand were therefore given to God (_Deo_, \"to God\"; _dandum_, \"a thing\ngiven\"); i.e., forfeited to the King, and by him distributed in alms.\nThis curious law of deodands was not abolished in England until 1846.\n[315] The southern coast of the Mediterranean, from Egypt to the\nAtlantic.\n[316] Censure.\n[317] Afterward.\n[318] \"Physic garden,\" i.e., a garden for growing medicinal herbs.\n[319] Since.\n[320] Lord mayor of London, 1679-80, and for many years member of\nParliament for the city.\n[321] The workmen.\n[322] Recognized.\n[323] Fenced.\n[324] Members of the Society of Friends, a religious organization\nfounded by George Fox about 1650. William Penn was one of the early\nmembers. The society condemns a paid ministry, the taking of oaths, and\nthe making of war.\n[325] See p. 105, next to the last paragraph.\n[326] Die. \"Of the plague\" should immediately follow \"died.\"\n{Transcriber's note: the reference is to footnote 26.}\n[328] The act of indemnity passed at the restoration of Charles II.\n(1660). In spite of the King's promise of justice, the Parliamentarians\nwere largely despoiled of their property, and ten of those concerned in\nthe execution of Charles I. were put to death.\n[329] Family and personal peace.\n[330] The Established Church of England, nearly all of whose ministers\nwere Royalists. The Presbyterians were nearly all Republicans.\n[331] The dissenting ministers.\n[332] The Churchmen.\n[334] What we should call an assistant minister is still called a curate\nin the Church of England.\n[335] \"I had not said this,\" etc., i.e., I would not have said this, but\nwould rather have chosen, etc.\n[337] Moved away (into the country).\n[338] The duties of headboroughs differed little from those of the\nconstables. The title is now obsolete.\n[339] Count.\n[340] \"Must.\" In this sense common in Chaucer. The past tense, \"should,\"\nretains something of this force. Compare the German _sollen_.\n[341] Otherwise known as _theriac_ (from the Greek [Greek: th\u00eariakos],\n\"pertaining to a wild beast,\" since it was supposed to be an antidote\nfor poisonous bites). This medicine was compounded of sixty or seventy\ndrugs, and was mixed with honey.\n[342] Supply \"died.\"\n[343] Supply \"of.\"\n[344] Substitute \"which.\"\n[345] Those.\n[346] A corruption of \"benzoin,\" a resinous juice obtained from a tree\nthat flourishes in Siam and the Malay Archipelago. When heated, it gives\noff a pleasant odor. It is one of the ingredients used in court-plaster.\n[347] This word should be omitted.\n[348] The \"press gang\" was a naval detachment under the command of an\nofficer, empowered to seize men and carry them off for service on\nmen-of-war.\n[349] Off Lowestoft, in 1665. Though the Dutch were beaten, they made\ngood their retreat, and heavily defeated the English the next year in\nthe battle of The Downs.\n[352] See Exod. xiv., xv., and xvi. 1-3.\n[353] \"H.F.\" is of course fictitious.\nWEBSTER'S SCHOOL DICTIONARIES.\nREVISED EDITIONS.\nWEBSTER'S SCHOOL DICTIONARIES in their revised form constitute a\nprogressive series, carefully graded and especially adapted for Primary\nSchools, Common Schools, High Schools, Academies, etc. They have all\nbeen thoroughly revised, entirely reset, and made to conform in all\nessential points to the great standard authority--WEBSTER'S\nINTERNATIONAL DICTIONARY.\nWEBSTER'S PRIMARY SCHOOL DICTIONARY.\n  Containing over 20,000 words and meanings, with over 400 illustrations.\nWEBSTER'S COMMON SCHOOL DICTIONARY.\n  Containing over 25,000 words and meanings, with over 500 illustrations.\nWEBSTER'S HIGH SCHOOL DICTIONARY.\n  Containing about 37,000 words and definitions, and an appendix giving a\n  pronouncing vocabulary of Biblical, Classical, Mythological, Historical,\n  and Geographical proper names, with over 800 illustrations.\nWEBSTER'S ACADEMIC DICTIONARY.\n  Abridged directly from the International Dictionary, and giving the\n  orthography, pronunciations, definitions and synonyms of the large\n  vocabulary of words in common use, with an appendix containing various\n  useful tables, with over 800 illustrations.\nSPECIAL EDITIONS.\n     Webster's Condensed Dictionary. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " Latin\n", "content": "REBILIUS CRUSO:\n                      ROBINSON CRUSOE, IN LATIN;\n                       A BOOK TO LIGHTEN TEDIUM\n                        FRANCIS WILLIAM NEWMAN,\n      EMERITUS PROFESSOR OF LATIN IN UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON;\n             HONORARY FELLOW OF WORCESTER COLLEGE, OXFORD.\n               PRINTED BY STEVENSON, BAILEY, AND SMITH,\nPREFACE.\nThis book was composed when the writer was a Professor of Latin, as\npart of a larger scheme. He has long been convinced that the mode of\nteaching Latin has become less and less effective in proportion as it\nhas been made more and more scientific. The effort has been general to\nconfine the pupil to the most elaborate styles and the most approved\nclassics, and the exercise of memory has been superseded by minute\naccuracy in the study of very limited pieces. In the natural mode we\nhave enormous endless repetition and much learning of the names of\nthings. We begin with short sentences and a very limited number of\nverbs; and we learn with the least possible number of _rules_. If\nwe could talk in Latin, that would be of all best; but as we cannot\nget exercise in talking it for practical needs, no teacher can hope\nto gain adequate readiness and facility: or if a few might, yet this\ncould not be counted on in any general system. It has long been my\nconviction that we ought to seek to learn a language _first_, and study\nits characteristic literature _afterward_. Greek and Latin literature\nplunge us into numerous difficulties all at once, inasmuch as their\npolitics, their history, their geography and their religion are all\nstrange to the young student. To take difficulties one by one is\nobvious wisdom; and with a view to this I elaborately maintained in an\narticle of the _Museum_ (No. iv., Jan., 1862, Edinburgh) that we ought\nto teach by _modern_ Latin. As parts of such a system I have executed\nand published a Latin \u201cHiawatha,\u201d and Latin Verse Translations of many\nsmall pieces of English poetry. If I could write Latin conversations\n_that would interest learners_, I should gladly have undertaken this:\nbut when I tried, I could not invent matter that seemed interesting\nenough. This indeed is my objection to Erasmus\u2019s \u201cColloquies,\u201d which\nalso are not easy enough in idiom to satisfy me. This \u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d\nI thought I could make very interesting, and it includes a far greater\nvariety of vocabulary than can be obtained from any of our received\nclassics of the same length. I hope also the style is easy.\nI surely need not apologize for taking only the general idea from\nDefoe. His tale is far too diffuse, too full of moralizing and with too\nlittle variety. He was very ignorant of the Botany and Zoology of the\ntropics, and when his tale is faithfully abridged, its impossibilities\nbecome too glaring. The Arabic \u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d published by the\nChurch Missionary Society cuts down Defoe\u2019s story unmercifully.\nI am indebted to my former colleague, the late Professor T. Hewitt\nKey, for the translation of Robinson into the name Rebilius. He also\napproved of Ignipulta for _a gun_, not as strictly grammatical, but\nas good enough to pass with Latins who were familiar with the word\nCatapulta. From him also I adopted Cannones, for _cannons_, and Pistola\n_a pistol_. The word Canna, a cane (or hollow tube) seems to be the\nroot of Cann\u0304on, a _tube_ or _cannon_, in Spanish, whence the American\ncan\u0304on for a tunnel, or larger tube.\nAfter I had executed my own Rebilius (finally completed in 1861), I\nlearned that a Frenchman, Goffaux, had published a \u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d\nin Latin and French. On discovering this, I stopped the printing which\nI had begun, and after some delay succeeded in getting the book. But\non perusing it I found his principles of remodelling the tale to\nbe fundamentally the opposite of mine, concerning which I need not\nenlarge. I like his Latin, yet do not think his book supersedes mine.\nBut if teachers can practically use his with advantage, I shall be well\nsatisfied.\nI wish here to renew my protest, that no accuracy of reading small\nportions of Latin will ever be so effective as extensive reading; and\nto make extensive reading possible to the many, the style ought to be\nvery easy and the matter attractive. To enable us to talk, we ought\nto have a vocabulary that includes all familiar objects,--which the\nClassics of our schools cannot give us. Terence, though somewhat too\ndifficult, would have great excellencies for the learner; but the\nsubstance of his plays is low, and eminently unedifying.\nIn the near future, _some_ universal tongue will be sought for by the\neducated. If Latin be still learned in England, France, Italy, Germany,\nHungary, Spain, this is still, as three centuries ago, the best for all\nChristendom. But perhaps even Latin will be beaten out of the schools.\nIt may be well to remark, that inasmuch as the grave accent has been\nvery widely used in school books as indicative of _an adverb_, I\nadopt the mark in this sense; and think it no objection to say that\nthe Latins never so used it. Neither had they our stops. We do not\npretend to follow their writing in detail. We usefully distinguish the\nvowels u i from the consonants v j; they did not. What should we gain,\nby writing the Iliad as its author wrote it? So too, I think it well\noccasionally to add long or short marks, as \u0113g\u0113re \u0115g\u0113re \u0113g\u0115re, v\u0113n\u0113re\nv\u0115n\u0115re, l\u0103t\u0113re l\u0103t\u0115re l\u0101tere, to obviate ambiguity. Nay I write fluct\u00fbs\nfor gen. sing., fluct\u016bs for plural, but fluctus for nomin. sing.\nWhen _et_ means _both_ or _even_, I set an acute accent over it, not\ndoubting that it then received some emphasis.\nI also borrow from the marks used in Hebrew an _under_-parenthesis\nfor coupling words that are in grammatical union. This mark is often\nvery effective in explaining the structure of complicated Greek\nsentences.\nCONTENTS.\n    CHAPTER I.\n    1 Robinson\u2019s parentage. 2 His first adventures. 3 His\n    slavetrading voyage. 4 The shipwreck. 5 They take to the\n    boat. 6 It is swamped. 7 His narrow escape. 8 His forlorn\n    position. 9 He sleeps in a tree. 10 His mental struggles.\n    11 The dog and long boat. 12 He swims to the ship. 13 Its\n    condition. The skiff. 14 He makes a raft. 15 He loads it,\n    first with food; 16 next, with other necessaries. 17 He\n    tows off the raft by the skiff. 18 Favouring weather. 19\n    It is all but wrecked. 20 He sleeps again in a tree. 21\n    His first supper. 22 He fastens the raft; 23 and visits\n    the long boat. 24 Second visit to the ship. 25 He plans a\n    raft on water-tight empty boxes. 26 He carries off a few\n    costly articles in the skiff; 27 and tows off whatever will\n    float. 28 He lands his train at the nearest point; 29 and\n    explores a natural harbour. 30 His dog-and-cat meat. 31 He\n    ascertains that he is in an island. 32 Its character. 33\n    His precaution against panthers. 34 He puts his first raft\n    in safety. 35 Third visit to the ship. 36 He brings away\n    his new raft. 37 Second expedition the same day.\n    CHAPTER II.\n    38 In future, he will write less minutely. 39 Weather\n    changes. 40 He goes on foot to his harbor. 41 Its cliffs\n    and caverns. 42 He bathes. 43 Sport and affection of the\n    dog. 44 Robinson ascends to the table land. 45 Shoots a\n    she-antelope and wounds a kid. 46, 7 How he deals with his\n    booty. 48 His mental agitations. 49 His ledger of things\n    good and bad. 50 How he is soothed. 51 He conciliates dog\n    and cat to the kid. 52 Thirteen days\u2019 work. 53 Why the ship\n    had so much ammunition. 54 His search for certain articles.\n    55 He finds iron tools; 56 and baskets of dry beans; 57 and\n    a portion of the plaid dresses. 58 He heightens his skiff.\n    59 His device for the long boat. 60 He saves it into his\n    harbor. 61 Last visit to the ship. 62 His raft is wrecked.\n    63 The ship vanishes.\n    CHAPTER III.\n    64 His state of feeling. 65 His affection to tame animals.\n    66 His cooking of the beans. 67 Recovery of articles from\n    his wrecked raft. 68 Details concerning the caverns. 69\n    Smoothness of their floor. 70 Solidity of their roofs. 71\n    Their screen of cactuses. 72 His bedroom and larder. 73\n    His manifold embarrassments. 74 He discovers a pure rill\n    at hand; 75 and a natural dock for the boat. 76 He hedges\n    in a spot in the valley. 77 He transports certain things\n    to the caverns. 78 Numerous gay-hued birds. 79 Abundant\n    vegetation. 80 Kindling materials. 81 Tropical products. 82\n    The creek ends in a land stream. 83 Natural fruit gardens.\n    84 He clings to the seaside. 86 He recovers the computation\n    of time, and resumes his nautical mathematics. 87 How he\n    had learned. 88 His register of lunar months.\n    CHAPTER IV.\n    89 How he had learned carpentry. 90 He makes a little\n    sledge. 91 He arranges his caverns. 92 His fear of wild\n    beasts. 93 He adapts the ship ladder to a new use. 94\n    Digs a hole under his window. 95 He now feels safe. 96 On\n    mining. 97 On his familiarity with gunpowder. 98 Removes to\n    the caverns. 99 His encounter with a female antelope. 100\n    His two new young ones. 101 Absence of men on the island.\n    102 He amasses fodder and improves two cliff paths. 103\n    He discovers a palm grove eastward; 104 and a forest glen\n    aloft to N.W. 105 How he brings down fuel and timber. 106\n    Climate of his island. 107 He rows round to the palm grove.\n    108 He cuts a young tree for boat oars.\n    CHAPTER V.\n    109 He arranges his armory. 110 His other apartments. 111\n    His laundry operations. 112 Treatment of his skin and hair.\n    113 Distress from cold. 114 His leathern tippet. 115 His\n    mat for the back. 116 Defence for head and cheeks in heat.\n    117 He shapes his new oars. 118 Exercises his boat in\n    harbor. 119 From his skiff he sees a lofty mountain. 120\n    How he cooks waterfowl. 121 How he gets tame pigeons. 122\n    His toil in carrying. 123 His spirits suddenly fail. 124\n    His religious agitation. 125 His tackle to catch a rabbit.\n    126 He catches two. 126* He plaits new shoes.\n    CHAPTER VI.\n    127 He explores the high mountain. 128 Panorama from the\n    summit. 129 The mainland is on the south. 130 He discovers\n    vine plants, and brings home citrons and lemons half-ripe.\n    131 He returns by an easy and natural road. 132 Joy makes\n    him liberal. 133 Threefold character of the island. 134,\n    5 He explores the hill west of the creek. 136 He catches\n    a parrot. 137 He makes a rabbit-hutch. 138 He reads of\n    elephant catching. 139 He plans to catch a fully-grown\n    antelope alive. 140-2 The battle and victory. 143 He\n    catches a female alive, and two kids. 144 Steady morning\n    rains. North of the palm grove, he surveys eastward more of\n    the coast; 145 with tortoises on wide sands. 146 Why he has\n    no palms in his harbor. 147 Sport of the dog with the kids.\n    148 Their swiftness. 149 Description of the antelopes. 150\n    He trains them to the little sledge; his harness. 151 His\n    dog learns to watch the flock. 152 He trains them to his\n    whistle. 153 His schemes for food. 154 His fishing. 155 His\n    weir-net. 156. He moralizes on his own character.\n    CHAPTER VII.\n    157 His dressing of fish. 158 His unleavened bannocks.\n    159 His home garden. 160 His argumentation with himself.\n    161, 2 How he is affected by his mother\u2019s birthday. 163\n    His funeral feast. 164 He finishes it in the glen. 165, 6\n    The parrot\u2019s talk. 167-9 He brings home a tortoise. 170\n    The hull of the ship is cast up. 171 He ventures upon it\n    within the reef. 172 An ague seizes him. 173 His dread\n    of darkness; he drinks, first lemonade; 174 afterwards,\n    Cinchona. 175 He gets oil and eggs from the tortoise. 176\n    He makes lampwicks. 177 The weather clears. 178 Birth of\n    new kittens. 179 Other new broods. 180-2 Development of his\n    religious sentiment. 183 The Popish Prayer-book. 184 The\n    lessons which he now learnt.\n    CHAPTER VIII.\n    185 He saws down the horns of the male antelope. 186 Use of\n    the horns. 187 He makes a drill, 188 with a bow, 189 and\n    guide; 190 also a larger sledge. 191 Deficiency of leather.\n    192 How he makes fine ropes. 193 His small bridge. 194\n    His beach road. 195 New kids. 196 Contrivance for picking\n    cocoa nuts. 197 Experiments on leaves, pith and bark.\n    198, 9 Migration of his flock. 200 He sleeps in a hammock\n    under the sky. 201 He makes the rush mat for his back.\n    202 His dress in the heat. 203 His preparation of a yam\n    garden. 204 His siesta. 205 His raisins. 206 New products\n    of the soil. 207 Turpentine or Resin. 208 Midday with the\n    dog. 209-11 More fruits. 212 Unsuccessful expedition in\n    the long boat. 213 He cannot return against the wind; 214\n    his distress. 215 The parrot comes to comfort him. 216 He\n    trudges home, leaving the boat. 217 He fixes the latitude;\n    218 plants his kitchen garden. 219 Adds to his stores of\n    food. 220 Insufficiency of his store-chests. 221 His first\n    attempt at pottery. 222 He builds a furnace. 223 Makes huge\n    square jars of coarse pottery. 224 He sets up a target for\n    practice. 225 His preserving of fruit. 226 His recovery of\n    glass beads.\n    CHAPTER IX.\n    227 Two boats of black savages arrive. 228 He arms; 229\n    goes forth and views a cannibal feast. 230 A captive\n    escapes. 231 Robinson shoots one pursuer dead and wounds\n    another; 232 but saves the life of the latter. 233 Binds\n    up his wound. 234 Ascertains that the two boats have\n    departed. 235 He brings the fugitive to his caverns. 236\n    Returns to bury the dead; 237 and bring home the wounded\n    man. 238 He tries the temper of the fugitive. 239 His\n    deliberation and assumed majesty. 240 His careful treatment\n    of the fugitive (Elapsus). 241 He astonishes both men with\n    his pistols,--also Elapsus with telescope and watch. 242\n    He pours away nearly all the brandy and rum. 243 Elapsus\n    makes good sandals for Robinson. 244 Robinson gives him\n    a handsome plaid; 245 also cloaks to both. 246 He takes\n    Elapsus to the scene of the murderous feast. 247 Elapsus\n    reveals the virtues of trees and shrubs, 248 and talks of\n    Indian poultry. 249, 250 Various palms and their uses.\n    251 Thoughts about the long boat. 252 Convalescence of\n    Secutor. 253 Elapsus devises a royal badge for Robinson.\n    254 Robinson accepts it; 255 and gives a secondary badge\n    to Elapsus. 256 Description of the two men. 257 Elapsus\n    is curious about work in iron. 258 Skill of both men in\n    wattling and plaiting. 259 Skill of Secutor in cookery;\n    his making of tea. 260 Why Robinson resolves to show no\n    distrust. 261 He teaches both the sword-exercise. 262 Armor\n    used in it. 263 Secutor makes new arrows. 264 Robinson\n    plans a cross-bow. 265 The men execute it.\n    CHAPTER X.\n    266 Expedition to fetch the boat. 267 Mending of the\n    sails. 268 It tacks well. 269 Elapsus pronounces it, _Not\n    yet good_. 270 Secutor enlarges the kitchen garden. 271\n    Their sport in swimming. 272 Trial of soap-making. 273\n    Secutor as groom and gardener. 274 Reliefs for the men\u2019s\n    toil. 275, 6 Elapsus works bulwarks and flaps (outriggers)\n    for the boat. 277 Robinson studies how to fulfil his\n    demands of ironwork. 278 With Elapsus he makes a longer\n    excursion on the hills. 279 Gets a view of the ridges and\n    under cliff on the north-east. 280 The three work together\n    at the smithy. 281 The parrot is killed by a falcon. How\n    Elapsus comforts Robinson. 282 Diligent work during the\n    rains. 283 Secutor\u2019s enmity to the rabbits. 284 Robinson\u2019s\n    literary occupation. 285 His talk with them during their\n    work. 286 They present him with a royal dress. 287 They\n    try the new rig of the boat. 288 Petition of the two men\n    concerning wives. 289 Robinson\u2019s anxieties. 290 His first\n    question. 291 Their further suggestions. 292 His fresh\n    objections. 293 He insists on first surveying the coast.\n    CHAPTER XI.\n    294 Their new manufactures. 295 Robinson plays the\n    hydrographer. 296 Elapsus finds the rice plant. 297 They\n    survey the west coast. 298 Difficulty about currents. 299\n    Problem of the flock, solved by Elapsus. 300 They agree\n    to hew new oars. 301 Robinson claims better missiles. 302\n    Their reply reproves him. 303 Their activity. 304 They\n    carry home the fruit crop. 305, 6 Some account of their own\n    country. 307 Calculations of Elapsus. 308 Secutor\u2019s account\n    of the late war. 309 Why neither tribe comes to the island.\n    310 Robinson promises to sail within four days. 311 Energy\n    of Secutor. 312 Zoology of the mainland. 313 Robinson\u2019s\n    final preparations. 314 Fate of the tame rabbits. 315 The\n    three put to sea at evening; 316 and at dawn see land. 317\n    The two men resume their true names. 318 Reception by the\n    populace. 319 The shooting match. 320 Sister of Gelavi; 321\n    also his bride. 322 Robinson consents to everything. 323\n    They are towed out with honor. 324 The return voyage. 325\n    They land at the Garden-port. 326 What of the flock?\n    CHAPTER XII.\n    327 Nuptial preparations. 328 Indian Poultry. 329 Pranks of\n    thieves. 330 Nuptial ceremonies. 331 Speech of Robinson.\n    332 Services of Upis and Calefus; 333 also of Pachus. Skill\n    of Totopil in snares. 334 Functions of Robinson. 335 New\n    Pottery and store closet. 336 Sago, Wax, Oil, Sugar. 337\n    Pachus and Calefus undertake rice. 338 Apartments. 339\n    New cares of Robinson. 340 Retrospect of his slavery. 341\n    His rest on Sunday. 342 His Sunday School. 343 His pupil\n    teachers. 344 Materials for paper. 345 Religious talk with\n    Gelavi. 346 Pachus makes needles. 347 New ideas of Gelavi.\n    348 Robinson seeks explanation. 349 Gelavi cannot satisfy\n    him. 350 Pachus finds a stream of copper. 351 Three persons\n    are driven on shore in a boat. 352 Policy of Robinson. 353\n    Perplexing comment of Gelavi. 354 The strangers depart. 355\n    Anxieties of Robinson. 356 New arrivals. 357 Robinson\u2019s\n    suspicions. 358 of Gelavi and Fenis. 359 Fenis\u2019s defence.\n    360 Robinson recovers himself. 361 His promises to Cortops.\n    365 Supplementary conditions.\n    CHAPTER XIII.\n    366 Robinson\u2019s zeal for his own language. 367 Gelavi\n    opposes. 368, 9 The discussion. 370 Robinson reluctantly\n    yields. 371 He aids Gelavi in new alphabet. 372 He trains\n    his own family to firearms. 373 Refuses to tell how to\n    make gunpowder. 374 Pachus and Robinson sleep in hammocks.\n    375 Guns of distress. 376 Robinson sends to Cortops for\n    rowers, 377 and boards the ship. 378 The rowers tow it off\n    the sandbank. 379 Robinson guides them to the creek. 380\n    He promises a new mast, 381 and food. 382 The captain\u2019s\n    story. 383 He asks the longitude, 384 and promises to carry\n    Robinson to England. 385 Robinson orders food, 386 and\n    shoots three wild antelopes, 387 and a pelican. 388 Cortops\n    gives rice liberally. 389 The captain visits the caverns,\n    390 and accepts _one_ dead antelope. 391 Gifts to Cortops\n    and the rowers. 392 On the new mast. 393 Robinson and two\n    men cut it. 394 Robinson visits Cortops by appointment. 395\n    Secret interview and compact. 396 It is revealed to Pachus\n    and Gelavi. 397 Robinson abdicates in favor of Cortops. 398\n    Cortops adopts Gelavi as son and successor.\n    CHAPTER XIV.\n    399 Dispatch of business. 400 Royal gifts of Robinson to\n    Cortops. 401 Sudden loss of Robinson\u2019s skiff by Upis. 402\n    Yards are wanting to the mast. 403 Robinson undertakes to\n    be ship-carpenter; 404 and buys many wares of the captain\n    as presents to Cortops, Pachus and Calefus. 405 Great\n    farewell on the Sunday; 406 and solemn advice to Gelavi.\n    407 Final arrangements in the ship. 408 Last gifts of\n    Robinson. 409 The ship is wind-bound. 410 Robinson\u2019s story\n    of himself. 411 How he escaped from the Moors to Brazil.\n    412 Received funds from England. 413 Became familiar\n    with his employer\u2019s sons; 414 was invited to join in\n    partnership. 415 Easy liberality of the Brazilians. 416\n    European considerations. 417 Robinson becomes a partner.\n    418 Fertility of the country. 419 Nature and management of\n    his estates. 420 Occupation of three years. 421 His _ennui_\n    in the fourth. 422 New overtures of his partner. 423-430\n    Robinson consents, after faint resistance. 431-3 His voyage\n    and shipwreck. 434 The weather changes. 435 They are towed\n    off. 436 The boats and Gelavi depart. 437 They fall in with\n    a ship bound for England. 438 Robinson sends a letter by\n    it. 439 He reaches Jamaica. 440 Arranges business at Brazil\n    by letters--and without further events, regains his English\n    home.\nERRATA.\nTranscriber\u2019s Note: the errata have been corrected as part of the\nprocess of producing this e-text.\n    Section 8, line 6--_for_ rersus _read_ rursus.\n      \u201d    12,   \u201d 14--_for_ protulentam _read_ potulentam.\n      \u201d    35,   \u201d 15--_for_ facilime _read_ facillime.\n      \u201d    65,   \u201d 12--_for_ compertum _read_ compertam.\n      \u201d    66,   \u201d  6--_for_ panxillulum _read_ pauxillulum.\n      \u201d    91,   \u201d  4--_for_ qualicumque _read_ qualicunque.\n      \u201d   103,   \u201d  8--_for_ explorari _read_ explorare.\n      \u201d   216,   \u201d  2--_for_ incedentem _read_ incedens.\n      \u201d   291,   \u201d  4--_for_ Secutorum _read_ Secutorem.\nROBINSON CRUSOE.\nREBILII CRUSONIS ANNALES.\nCAPUT PRIMUM.\n1. Natus sum ego Eboraci, ex bon\u00e2 famili\u00e2, sed peregrin\u00e2: quippe pater\nmeus Germanus fuit e Brem\u00e2, ubi appellabatur Kreutznaer. Ceter\u00f9m per\nmercaturam dives factus, Eboraci consedit, unde recepit in connubium\nmatrem meam. Ex hujus agnatis praenomen mihi Rebilius, ex patre nomen\nKreutznaer inditum est. Sed vulgus hominum, facili corruptel\u00e2, Crusonem\nme Rebilium appellabat. Tertius eram filius familiae. Frater maximus,\ntribunus militum, cum Hispanis praelio congressus, ad Dunquercam\noccubuit. Frater proximus, sicut ego quoque postea, incertum quomodo,\nevanuit. Me quidem pater, diligenter institutum, juris legumque studiis\ndestinabat: sed, fatali quodam motu, nihil mihi arridebat, nisi ut mari\noberrarem.\n2. Prim\u00e2 in juvent\u00e2 clam patrem \u00e9vasi nauta. Cursu mox felici cum\nmagistro navis humanissimo ad Guineam Africae navigavi. Altero in\ncursu a Mauris piratis captus sum, et per quatuor fere annos duram\nservivi servitutem. Inde miraculo audaciae elapsus, in Lusitan\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam\nnav\u0115 ad Braziliam sum devectus, ubi colono cuidam tres ampli\u00f9s annos\nstrenuam operam navavi, praefectus servorum agrestium. Mox per hunc\namicosque hujus adductus sum, ut ad Guineam navigarem, homines nigritas\nconquisiturus, quos ipsi inter se per sua praedia servitutis caus\u00e2\ndividerent. Equidem magnam lucri partem eram derivaturus.\n3. Sed longe aliter ordinavit Deus, ne impune caecae cupiditati\nobsequerer. Nempe ventis abrepta nav\u012ds Oceanum transire nequibat, sed\nlonge ad Caurum devehitur, circa Orinoconis ostia, ut credebamus.\nAltera mox superveniens procella magno impetu nos in Occidentem\npropulit, ubi, si e mari effugeremus, per feros homines foret pereundum.\n4. Gravi impendente periculo, nocte intempest\u00e2 et saeviente adhuc\nvento, nauta qui erat in vigili\u00e2 \u201cterram adesse\u201d exclamavit; atque,\nantea qu\u00e0m ceteri experrecti superne congregamur, nav\u012ds in arenis\nhaeret. St\u0103tim cum strepitu tremendo corruunt m\u0101li eorumque armamenta.\nFluct\u016bs magn\u00e2 vi foros proluebant, neque ipsae nav\u012ds compages diu\ntoleraturae videbantur. 5. Magister scapham demitti jubet. Demittitur:\nnec facil\u00e8 id quidem. Res, quae maxime ad vitam sunt necessariae,\nraptim ingerunter; tum nos ipsi, tredecim viri, in eandem descendimus.\nMontosum littus inter sublustrem caliginem furvum apparebat: e\u00f2\nremigamus, si qua fort\u00e8 in sinu terrae reducto tranquilliore mari\nutamur. Jam, violenter undante salo et circum nos se frangente, res non\nnauticae peritiae sed divinae opis videbatur: quare inter remigandum\nse quisque Deo Supremo, pius impiusve, commendabat, salute paene\ndesperat\u00e2. 6. Ventus, ad terram propellens, cursum scaphae accelerabat,\nterram faciebat formidolosiorem; metu autem maris, spe littoris, ipsi\nnosmet quasi in certissimum exitium detrudebamus. Tandem, vadosiore\nmari, fluct\u016bs perniciosius circumfringi et dejectari scapha. Mox, ecce\ncrista undae ingens, quae nos persequitur; et vix DEI effamur nomen,\nquum cuncti sumus absorpti.\n7. Quae sequebantur, longa fortasse enarratu, factu erant brevissima.\nProfundi\u00f9s sensi me verbere fluct\u00fbs illius deprimi, sed, anim\u00e2 fortiter\ncompress\u00e2, ad summas aquas emersi tandem. Altero in fluctu spumante\nimplicatus atque violenter circumtortus, immens\u00f9m anhelans eluctor;\ntum conversus, humeros meos succedenti oppono cristae. Ea me magn\u00e2 vi\ncautem versus projecit, aqu\u00e2 exstantem: hanc ego amplexus, adhaereo,\ndum decurrit unda; tunc, priusquam novus superveniat fluctus, per vada\nexsiliens scando, iterumque amplector cautem; simul, aestu paulisper\nobruor. Ictus ejus me aspere quassabat, sed extemplo a\u00ebra animamque\nrecepi, et rursus per vada supergredior. Citra saxa undas longe minus\ningentes sensi, inter quas poteram natare, aegr\u0113 profect\u00f2. Mox littore\nipso projectus, uncis pedibus in sabulonem lapillosque inculcatis,\npronus dec\u012ddo, ut ne me fluctus retrahat. Uno p\u00f2st temporis momento in\nterr\u00e2 firm\u00e2 asto. Conversus, video praeter littus cautium seriem, inter\nalbicantes aquas nigrarum; nihil aliud per tenebras in mari dispicio,\nneque scapham neque quemquam e sodalibus.\n8. Tamen haud valde caliginosa erat nox. Ingentes aliquot nubes, et\nplurimae nubeculae, sibilante vento raptabantur: inter has clarissima\nlucebant sidera e nigerrimo caelo. Respiciens ad terram, collium\nduntaxat cerno lineamenta ac rupium. Tum vestimenta raptim detracta\nm\u0103nibus contorqueo, et, quoad possum, aquam marinam exprimo. Eadem\nrursus induor, (quid aliud facerem?) et rupem proximam per algas enisus\nascendo; frustra: nam ne inde quidem in mari quidquam discerni potest.\n9. Attamen arboris forma super colle exstat. Hanc sequor, et, ut\npotissimum in caligine, arborem illam scando et ramos amplexus\ninterfususque me repono. Vestimentorum in loculis nihil habui, praeter\ncultellum, tabaci aliquantum et tubulum fumarium. Post brevem requiem\nassurgens, virgam grandiusculam amputo, qu\u00e2 protegam me aliquatenus.\nAqu\u00e2 marin\u00e2 largi\u00f9s insorpt\u00e2, tamen neque sitis neque famis aderat mihi\nlevamen. Sed, loco cibi, tabaci folium in os meum compono, implicat\u00e2que\nramis virg\u00e2, membra mea ita dispono, ut ne dec\u012ddam, si somno capiar.\nVespertiliones, et maximi illi quidem, stridoribus ac volatu, somnum\naliquamdiu discutiunt.\n10. Item quoad concitato opus erat corpore, mens mea tranquilla fuerat\nac praesens: nunc, quando quiescit corpus, maxime se mens agitare\ncoepit. Imprimis gratias Deo optimo maximo sincerissimas profudi,\nadmirans praesertim, si ego solus ex tanto naufragio servor. Mox\nid ipsum crudelissime me pungit; etenim h\u00eec solitarius, madidus,\nfamelicus, paene nudus, pej\u00f9s enecor qu\u00e0m in mari, nisi ver\u00f2 feri\nhomines sive bestiae me devorabunt. Sane ego id temporis pius non eram,\nminime religiosus. Igitur tant\u00e2 in calamitate magnus me aestus animi\nconquassabat, inter grates querelasque, consilium ac desperationem.\nTandem agitatione victus profundo somno conquievi, laboris ac\nmoestitiae obl\u012btus.\n11. M\u0101n\u0115 expergiscor, multum recreatus, sed algens; nec mirum. Ceter\u00f9m\nibi maris temperies humanae cutis calorem aequat: etiam nox ipsa\ntepet: porro arboris illius densa folia fuerant mihi pro tegumento,\nne calor in apertum aethera effugeret. Sciuri, psittaci, macaci\nsive cercopitheci circ\u00f9m garriebant continenter. Evigilans incipio\ndescendere: ecce autem canis noster ad radices arboris meae, quasi\ncustodiens. Id me tenero quodam ita affecit gaudio, ut lacrimae oculis\noborirentur. Ergo non sum prorsus solitarius; unum saltem retineo\namicum! Hunc demulceo, plaudo armos, paene amplector. Mox festinanter\ndeambulans, navem nostram ex adverso conspicor, longiuscule ultra eas\ncautes, ubi ipse projectus fui. Sine dubio aestus intumescens, ex\narenis levatam, huc detrusit. Jam autem paene sopito vento, inanis\ntant\u00f9m supererat undarum jactatio. At ego in margine rupis incedens,\ndespecto circa littus: mox, interjectis vix mille passibus, scapham\nnostram discerno in aren\u00e2, subter caerule\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam rupe. Adire eam\nvolui; sed quasi lingua quaedam maris interfusa impediebat; et quoniam\nfame urgebar, in navem poti\u00f9s, si possem, regrediendum censui.\n12. Degressus rupe, redeo praeter littus: ibi pileum nauticum video,\nsummo cum moerore. Jam aliquantum recesserat aestus, atque, ut\naestimabam, vix trecenti aquarum pass\u016bs a nave me distinebant. Exutis\npall\u00e2 braccisque, intrepide mare ingressus sum, inter grallatorias\naves, quae plurimae aqu\u00e2 exsurgebant; et facil\u00e8 navem natando assequor.\nPuppis ejus valde elevata est, depressa prora; ex qu\u00e2 catenae\ndependentes aquam tangebant. Has ego prehensas ascendo, et supervado\nloricam tabulatorum. O tristem ruinam, ubi m\u0101li, vela, funes strage\nconturbatissim\u00e2 complicantur. Sed ego ad cellam penuariam decurro,\nibique arrepto pane nautico (qui _bis coctus_ appellatur) vescor\nlibenter. Mox, ex arc\u00e2 me\u00e2 ipsius extractas, vestes induor atque\nhorologium meum resumo. (Profecto resurgente aestu vesperi, ille meus\nin littore vestitus natans asportatus est.) Simul ut aquam potulentam\ninvenio, sin\u016bs vestium pane complevi, ut quoties l\u012db\u0113ret, vescerer: tum\nmeditabar, quid facerem potissimum.\n13. Illud me angebat, qu\u00f2d manifeste, si in nave mansissemus, omnes\nfuissemus salvi. Super pror\u00e2 quidem saepius insultantes undae plurimas\nres corruperant; sed altera pars, puppim versus, alte sublata, sicca\nerat atque incolumis. Quippe, ut credo, quia in aren\u00e2, non in cautibus\nhaeserat, carinae soliditas perduravit. Qu\u00e0m plurimas res jam cupiebam\nasportare; sed id erat difficile. Scapha major, ut dixi, in littore\nprojecta erat longe. Illa quindecim viros facil\u00e8 portabat, et in magnis\nAfricae fluviis ad invehendos venales magno usui erat futura. Alteram\ncomportaveramus longe minorem, cymbam poti\u00f9s quam scapham dixerim;\nquae duos homines cum remige posset ad scapham devehere, si qu\u00e0 juxta\nripas aquae forent breviores. Haec in nave remansit: demittere eam in\nmare erat in facili; sed parum capiebat, nec videbatur nimio sub onere\naestum littoris toleratura. Postquam arcas ac dolia multo cum suspiratu\naliquamdiu aspexi, contemplor m\u0101los, ac ratem componendam decerno.\n14. Subito exsultans, ex fabri nostri repositorio serr\u00e2 derept\u00e2,\nmalos disseco, ut trabes longitudine fere pares efficiam. Has in mare\nprovolvo, funibus quibusdam m\u0101lorum supra inhibitas. Ligna grandiora\ncujuscunque gener\u012ds colligo, ingero, omnia funiculis deligata. Postea\nipse seminudus, cum malleo et confibularum sacculo circum collum\nsuspenso, degressus equito super trabe. Undatio maris jam deminuta est:\nraptim ego ligna atque trabes, v\u0113lis funibusque confusas, conjungo,\ndestino, depango; vi me\u00e2 maxim\u00e2, quantumvis rudi, rat\u012ds fundamenta\njaciens. Redeo supra; video quanta sint portanda onera, ratemque nondum\nsufficere. Tum alia ligna plurima et tabulas ex omni parte nav\u012ds\nconquiro. Has dissecare ex suo loco, nimii laboris erat atque temporis.\nSed septa animadverto lignea, quae ad dividenda nigritarum cubilia\ncomparaveram. Utrumque binis hamis e tergo, binis spicatis clavis e\nfundo, erat instructum; annulis lateri nav\u012ds infixis, per quos hami\ninseri debebant. Haec septa plurimam atque optimam mihi sufficiebant\nmateriem. Quibus rebus superadditis, molem rat\u012ds et soliditatem\nmultum adaugeo; tum funibus astringo cuncta. Longum id erat et sane\ndifficile: necnon sol me admonebat horarum: horologium substiterat.\nDenique postquam, graviter insultans rati, firmitati ejus confido,\nmaximo cum dolore sentio, vix minimam partem eorum, quae vellem,\nposse me asportare; jam autem deligendum esse. 15. Ab oper\u00e2 paulisper\nrequiesco; vini ardentis saccharini haurio pocillum, meditorque\nmoestissime. Ea quae ad vitam maxime sunt necessaria, decerno sumere\nimprimis; tum, arma ad vitam defendendam. Quatuor nautarum arcas\ncommode vehi posse super rati me\u00e2 credebam. Totidem exinanio, et,\nper tollenonem[A] suculis instructum, demitto in ratem: hanc mox\nscalas vers\u00f9s traho. Sacculos impleo plures bis cocto pane, oryz\u00e2,\nfabis, miliari\u00e2 atque hordeace\u00e2 farin\u00e2; et facil\u00e8 in arcas dejicio.\nFabis atque milio praesertim eramus nigritas cibaturi, et sane multum\nhujus cibi portabamus, sed infra in alveo. Jam tres caseos Batavicos\narripio, caprinae carnis siccatae massas quinque, (qu\u00e2 carne vel maxime\nvescebamur,) et frumenti Europaei relliquias quasdam, quod ad gallinas\nalendas convexeramus. Gallinae vi procellarum perierant omnes. Ceter\u00f9m\ntriticum fuit id, cum hordeo: postea inveni corruptum esse per sorices.\n16. Dein latice ardenti anquisito, vini palmaris congios fere sex, cum\nplurimis delicatiorum potuum lagenis, seorsim conclusi. Hae lagenae\npartim magistri fuerant, partim meae ipsius. Lacernam meam et lecti\nopertorium corripio, porro serram, securim, malleum clavosque: sed haec\nin cymb\u00e2 destino portanda. Plures fuisse in nave nitrati pulveris cados\nmajores sciebam; sed ubinam artillator noster eos habuisset cond\u012dtos,\neram nescius. Tandem multum anquisitos duo inv\u0113ni siccos sanosque,\ntertium aqu\u00e2 marin\u00e2 corruptum. Cistas tres, h\u00f4c pulvere completas,\ncuratissime intra arcam super rati ita concludo, ut, si fluctus alluat,\nminimo sit detrimento. Jam de igne fovendo subit cura. Coqui nostri\nrecenseo supellectilem. Inde deripio foculum cum forcipe, batillo et\nrutabulo, cratibulam ferream, ahenum, ollamque coculam. Satis oneris\njam videbar imposuisse. 17. Cymbam protinus per easdem suculas mari\ncommitto; id quod difficillimum fuisset, nisi requiessent undae. Huc\nimpono ignipultam aucupariam optimam, par pistolarum cum balteo,\nmulctram stanneam, igniaria, s\u012bnum ligneum, poculum ex albo plumbo,\nitem corneum; cum vestibus ac fabrili supellectile, quam nominavi. Addo\npilularum plumbearum sacculum ac gladios duo. Unus horum falcatus erat\nMaurusii mei domini gladius. Solem video declinare; itaque propere\nfunem tractorium rati adjungo, funiculos plures in cymbam projicio,\njamque descendo cum remis, ratem ad littus tracturus.\n18. Tria me confirmabant,--mare tranquillum; aestus placide allabens;\naurae quoque, quantum erat, terram vers\u00f9s spirans. Parvam ancoram in\ncymb\u00e2 portabam. Jam remigo, atque contus animum subit. Redeo, effero\ncontum: demum littus peto, sed directam viam cautes prohibebant. Aves\nmultae in ratem consederunt, ut piscarentur commode. Has aegre abigo.\nMox sensi me praetervehi, ipso mari clam trahente: inde sperabam posse\nme in fluvii alicujus ostium deportari, ubi bona mea tuti\u00f9s exponerem.\nId quod evenit: nam rupes mox subeo, ubi in convallem sinus maris\nintrat. 19. Sed dum remis, quantum possum, medium in flumen cymbam\ndirigo, paene altero naufragio conflictor, rate v\u0103do illis\u00e2. Declivi\nprotinus rati delabebantur ejus onera, nisi propere succurrissem.\nCircumact\u00e2 cymb\u00e2, ligna aliquot de rate in interstitia ejusdem intrudo,\nquasi paxillis enormibus sustinens arcas. H\u00eec alligatus necessario\ncommoror, anxius sane animi, donec aestus insurgens ratem allevavit.\nTum in parvum quendam s\u012dnum deverto, juxta planitiem, cui mare debebat\nsuperfundi. E\u00f2 mox delatus metuebam ancoram dejicere, ne tanta m\u014dles\nfunem abrumperet, nisi aquas stagnare intelligerem. Tandem recedens\naestus in terr\u00e2 firm\u00e2 relinquit et cymbam et ratem.\n20. Onera mea exponere inutile erat, nocte appropinquante. In arbore\naliqu\u00e2 iterum dormire decrevi; itaque suffert\u00e2 ignipult\u00e2 armatus, item\ngladio serr\u00e2que, per ulvas uberrimas procedo, anquisiturus idoneum\ncubile. Nemus haud longe video. Ibi delect\u00e2 majore qu\u00e2dam arbore,\ncurvis transversisque ramis, grad\u016bs pro scalis in cortice serr\u00e2 inc\u012bdo;\ntum scandens cum serr\u00e2 amputo ramorum quidquid sit obfuturum, et\ncubandi facio periculum. Macacos video plures in arboribus, sed parvos\nmitesque.\n21. Redeunti c\u0103nis occurrit, lepusculum ore ferens, quem ante pedes\nmeos projecit. Intellexi eum magnam partem devorasse; etenim plenus\nsaturque apparebat. Sane ego donum ejus non contemsi, quamvis laniatum.\nAccepi; sed subit cura, ne s\u014dlo meo amico priver, nisi sedul\u00f2\npascam. Magno erat corpore, multoque egebat cibatu; de quo incepi\nmeditari.--Dulcem aquam juxt\u00e0 conspicor, in flumen marinum decurrentem.\nMox frondibus foliisque siccis igne facto, lepusculi reliquias super\nvivis prunis ope gladii ac serrae torreo, gustatuque ejus qu\u00e0m\nmaxime fruor. Primam illam in insul\u00e2 solitari\u00e2 coenam cum voluptate\ntristiti\u00e2que mir\u0113 commist\u00e2 memini. Jamque caligabat. Ego autem tabulam\nquandam reportatam clavis destinavi ad ramos arboris meae, ibique\nlacern\u00e2 obvolutus somno me dabam. Ignipultam inter ramos apposueram:\nc\u0103nis jacebat subtus. Pistolis qu\u014fque succingor, ne simia aliqu\u0103 major\nme incessat.\n22. Et profund\u0113 equidem dormivi, defessus laboribus; tamen ante lucem\nsum experrectus: (etenim ill\u00e2 in regione aestatis ipsius nox proxim\u0113\nante diluculum tenebras obtendit:) atque ego meditans consilia mea\ncompono. Ut primum dilucescit, descendo. Ligna aliquot exacuo securi;\ntum pro sublicis in arenam ita adigo, ut ratem, quamvis crescentibus\naquis, inhibeant. Nitrati pulveris cistas lacern\u00e2 protego, si\nfort\u00e8 pluat. Serram,--malleum,--clavos,--tabulas duas, robustam\ntenuemque,--argillam mollem, cum vetere fune pro stupp\u00e2,--in cymbam\ncolloco. Aquam mulctr\u00e2 haustam sumo mecum, item poculum ac panem.\nLepusculi, quod restat, cum c\u0103ne divido, ipsoque in cymbam adsumto\nflumen ingredior, scapham nostram invisurus.\n23. Pleno maris aestu, tardi\u00f9s descendo flumen; mox intra cautes\nlittus lego, ne quid undarum me incommodet. Magis magisque admiror\navium abundantiam, qu\u00e0 marinarum, qu\u00e0 silvestrium. Inter cautes ac\nlittus grallatoriae abundabant. Ad scapham tandem pertingo; perfractam\ninvenio, velut animo praeceperam; credideram posse me detrimenta ejus\nresarcire. Sed viginti pass\u016bs a mari jacebat, procell\u00e2 aestuque illius\nnoctis longe evecta; neque summ\u00e2 me\u00e2 vi potuit moveri. Porro, remos\nidoneos neque habebam, neque, si haberem, adhibere possem, onust\u00e2 certe\nscaph\u00e2. Aeger animi hanc relinquo, remigoque navem versus. Cogitans\nautem statuo m\u0103lum velumque scaphae anquirere, si fort\u00e8 postea horum\nusus venerit.\n24. Ad scalas nav\u012ds accedo. Has natans non potueram manu attingere:\netenim puppis nimi\u00f9m erat elata. Sed astans in cymb\u00e2, facil\u00e8 eas\napprehendo. C\u00e2ne primum superposito, alligat\u0103que cymb\u00e2, ipse ascendi;\nmox desideo inops consilii. Ollam offendo fructuum cond\u012btorum: cum\npane vescor, dum cogito. Video alteram ratem non posse me construere;\nspatium diei non sufficere, si trabes ips\u00e2 ex nave sint dissecandae;\nloricam tabulatorum discindere, laboriosum fore, nec valde utile. 25.\nMaurorum memineram rates utribus suffultas. Utres non habebam. Arcas\naquae impenetrabiles volebam pro utribus adhibere; sciebam autem\nnostras solido esse robore et astrict\u00e2 fabric\u00e2. Unaquaeque harum\nligneo pessulo rudique s\u0115r\u00e2 obdebatur; cuncta compari erant modulo.\nDie superiore, dissecto serr\u00e2 pessulo, facil\u00e8 aperueram quatuor illas;\n\u012ddem nunc facio in caeteris, atque exinanitarum exploro commissuras.\nArctissimae videbantur; id gaudeo: sed funibus proper\u0113 in mare demisi\nquatuor harum, ut commissurae aqu\u00e2 intumescerent; meam ipsius, quae\noptime fabrefacta est, pice ac stupp\u00e2 circa operculum incepi oblinere,\npericulum faciens, num aquam excludere possem. Postquam operui,\ncuneos tenues ligneos juxta pessulum inferciebam, quo astrictissim\u0113\nconcluderem. Hanc in mare demisi, fundo sursum sustentata; atque ibi\nreligatam reliqui, ut operam meam aqua exploraret.\n26. Jam video diem procedere, metusque subit\u00f2 me incessit, ne quis\nthesauros meos e rate compilaret, neve bestia corrumperet cibum.\nInsula foret an continens terra, culta an inculta, ferocibus bestiis\ninfesta necne,--nondum sciebam. Rat\u012ds autem dilectissima oculis s\u014dlique\nexposita manet, dum ego novas h\u00eec res conquiro! Credebam non posse\nme illo ipso die novae rat\u012ds onus asportare; satius esse, redire\nqu\u00e0m citissim\u0113. Illud succurrit: \u201cHer\u00ec, quae ad vitam maxime erant\nnecessaria, avexi; hodie, quae pondere l\u0115vissima sunt, nundinatione\npretiosissima, aveham in cymb\u00e2; ut _si fort\u00e8_ navis aliqu\u0103 me servabit,\nne prorsus sim pecuniae inops.\u201d Duo gladios pulcros e caeruleo chalybe\ninvenio; hos avide sumo. In secreto magistri scrinio aureos nummos\nHispanorum (doblounos vocant) cert\u00f2 sciebam contineri; quos ille\ncomportabat, ne, ventorum vi aliqu\u00f2 devectus, pecuni\u00e2 ad reficiendam\nnavem \u0115g\u0113ret. Dolabr\u00e2 protinus fores scrinii perfringo: invenio autem\nnon auri solum cr\u016dm\u0113nas, sed instrumentum astrologicum, pretiosum illud\nquidem, ac duo optima horologia; item furcillam mensalem et cochlear,\nutrumque ex argento; mox duas ac\u016bs magneticas, utramque su\u00e2 in capsula:\ntertiam videram ipsum juxta gubernaculum, propter usum gubernandi. In\nmensul\u00e2 offendo supellectilem geographicam ac scriptoriam, cum libris\nquatuor. Cuncta arripio, et quasi votum Deo concipio, nunquam, quantum\nin me est, cognatos magistri optimi quidquam laturos damni, _si fort\u00e8_\nin hominum gregem restituar.\n27. Dum meos ipsius perscrutor loculos, unde argentum, arculas optimas\nclavesque avebam, illud \u201c_si fort\u00e8_\u201d animum auresque meas pertentat.\nImmo totum hunc diem quasi rhythmus quidam \u201c_si fort\u00e8_\u201d tinnit in\nauribus, dum remigo, dum incedo. Jam res pretiosissimas in arculis\nconcluseram, quum scaphae memini armamenta. Haec facil\u00e8 reperio. M\u0101lum\nejus ad terram attrahendum decerno, pone cymbam alligatum. Quamvis\nproperans, temperare mihi nequivi, quin lardi asportarem succidiam, cum\nbulborum majorum marsupio ac capide duobusque cultris. Dein, quidquid\nvidebam corbium, fiscorum, riscorum, quod natare poterat, restibus\nconstringo, et pone traho, in cymb\u00e2 portans me ipsum ac canem cum novis\nthesauris. Ecce autem, dum in eo sum, ut navem relinquam, duae feles\ncymbae insiliunt, quas quidem neque ego neque c\u0103nis aspernatur.\n28. In remigando, vereor ne agmen meum, pone tractum, v\u0103do fluminis\nillidatur; in littus poti\u00f9s projicere volo. Dein locum puto\nexquirendum, ubi rat\u012ds mea postero die tutissime appellat: nam si\narcae in fundo rat\u012ds aliqu\u00f2 affligerentur, maximum fore periculum ne\ncunctae res disperirent. Dixi lingu\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam maris primo illo m\u0101n\u0115 me a\nscaph\u00e2 interseptum. Hanc video ad dextram cautium, e\u00f2que dirigo cursum.\nCorbes, m\u0101lum scaphae, caetera, facil\u00e8 in littus sursum traho; dein\ns\u012dnum illum maris propero intrare.\n29. Circa quingentos pass\u016bs penetrabat terram, rupe praecipiti undique\ncircumclusus. Ostium angustius erat, quia aspera saxa utrinque\nexsurgebant postium instar. Littus intimum e mollissim\u00e2 ac planissim\u00e2\nerat aren\u00e2; id quod facil\u00e8 perspexi, quia nondum altius pertinuerat\naestus. Ultra arenam video algas cactosque. Huc certum est ratem\nillam cras deducere. Quae quum summ\u00e2 celeritate lustrassem, contentis\nbrachiis domum remigo: nempe _domum ire_, erat, _ad opes meas_. Intra\ncautes mare inveni tunc quidem san\u00e8 tranquillum.\n30. Ad coquendum protinus accingor, praesertim (si credere possis)\npropter canem; immo, propter feles item; namque ad quidvis, quod posset\nme amar\u0115, mire allectabar. Quatuor intra lapides ignem accendo. Tres\nstipites, infr\u00e0 arenae infixos, supr\u00e0 fune colligo; inde su\u00e2 caten\u00e2\nsuspendo ahenum coculum. Aquam in cap\u012dde apportatam infundo; addo\nfabas, farinam hordeaceam, lardi segmen cum bulbo. Materi\u00e2 igni largi\u00f9s\ninject\u00e2, ignipultam arripio paroque collem ascendere qui haud longe\naberat. C\u0103nem mecum adsumo, feles credo propter fervorem ignis nihil\nnocituras cibo. 31. Mille quingentos pass\u016bs ad summum aestimabam iter\nillud; sed quia propter rivulum quendam atque uvidum s\u014flum circuivi,\nlongius erat aliquanto. Demum enisus per praecipitia, mare undique\ncircumfusum conspicor, aliam null\u00e2 ex regione terram, praeter scopulos\naliquot duasque pusillas insulas novem fere millia occidentem versus.\nUnus in postico mons mare exsuperabat; sed tamen eram in insul\u00e2. Hoc me\nmagnopere angebat.\n32. Magn\u00e2 ex parte sterilior videbatur insula, saxosis collibus\nabundans, non sine arboribus; quae quidem in cavis locis densabantur.\nNisi numerarem felem quandam feram, carnivoras non offenderam bestias;\nsed praeter macacos ac sciuros in convalle, lepores et exiguos\nporcillos videram; aves autem notas ignotasque ubique qu\u00e0m plurimas.\nAlitem majorem, arbori insidentem, glandibus olorinis transverbero\nrediens. Pluma ejus rostrumque accipitris erat, ungues modicae, caro\npiscibus foetida. Tum vero memet increpabam qu\u00f2d jaculandi suppetias\nperderem. Alites autem rapaces, quanquam plurimos, non magnos illos\nvideram. Porr\u00f2 feras hujus insulae coram homine plerasque intrepidas\nesse repperi. A collis jugo ingentes prospicio arbores, quas aestus in\nflumine resurgens debeat alluere. Hae supra ratem erant, neque procul\nab arbore in qu\u00e2 proxim\u00e2 nocte dormiveram. Subter has statuo ratem\nattrahere, succedente aestu. Sed propere reversus, ignem exstinctum\ninvenio, cibum non male coctum. Feles, valde famelicae, magn\u00e2 voce\nquerebantur. Has et canem largiter pasco; et mecum statuo, plures etiam\nme fabas, si possim, nav\u0115 extracturum.\n33. At ferae visio felis me commoverat aliquantum. Verebar ne majores\nejusmodi bestiae h\u00eec degerent, ut pardus, ut panthera, quae arbores\nfacil\u00e8 escendunt. Circumvallare me certus sum. Utensilibus arreptis\nfabrilibus cum materi\u00e2 ac fune, peto arborem meam; ubi, incisuris\nsecuri impressis, p\u0101los infigo, breves tabulas supr\u00e0 destino, tum\nquator desuper palis contra ictus infernos corroboro. Quippe intellexi\nfelem quamcunque ab ips\u00e2 stirpe arboris tanquam incurrere sursum; et\nsi quid praerupt\u0113 emineat, arceri. Restim autem quasi in annulos duos\nsive amenta complico, quem ramis alligatum, ipse possim prehendere\nascendens. Tali tum podio arborem, ut poteram, praetexui: postea\nconfirmavi, pleniore adjutus supellectile. 34. Jam video noctem\naestumque approperare. Sublicis evulsis, pone cymbam traho ratem,\napponoque sub arbore ingenti incolumem; ubi lat\u0113re posse credens,\nsublicis iterum depango. Deonerat\u00e2 cymb\u00e2, compono res omnes accurate.\nTum, crastinis consiliis aestuans, tamen somno celeriter corripior,\nalatis blattis atque vespertilionibus contemtis.\n35. Evigilo ante diluculum. Depropero ad cymbam detrudoque in fluvium;\nc\u0103nis quasi suo jure insilit. Subter stellis remigo, adverso aestu. In\nnavem invado, etiam ante solem ortum; sed dilucescebat. Inspicio arcam\nmeam; optime aquam excluserat. Caeteras item e mari subtractas stupp\u00e2\nac pice pariter ac meam ipsius concludo. Omnia funibus contentissimis\nastringo. Mox quattuor sufficere videntur; immo sic tutius fore ad\nprimum experimentum. His in mare delatis, et firmissim\u0113 constrictis\nsuperpono dolium pulveris nitrati, alterum panis, mox totum fabri\nrepositorium. Adjungo seriam olei, ollam picis, arma missilia aliquot,\nalias res minores. Vela quotquot inveni, quae supervacanea portabamus,\ncum scaphae velo, collocavi supra; superque his rursus carbasum quendam\npice liquid\u00e2 obl\u012dtum. Tantum onus facillime videbantur arcae tolerare.\n36. Postquam restibus omnia consolidavi, paul\u00f2 ante meridiem, strenuo\nnisu ratem ad littus traho, paene infimo in aest\u00fbs recessu. Sed inter\npost\u0113s saxeos in s\u012dnum illum procedo, neque in flumen adversum vol\u014f me\ncommittere. Mare intr\u00e0 mox quietissimum invenio, et quasi in stagno\nreligo ratem. Maxim\u0113 gavisus, projicio me sub rupe et paulisper sub\numbr\u00e2 requiesco: dein cibo recreatus, ad operam redeo. 37. Quidquid\nerat in rate, in algosum siccae arenae acervum expono; sed laborios\u0113,\npropter humiles aquas. Video mare adhuc tranquillum; cras posse\nco-oriri procellas. Spes et cupiditas, quamvis lasso, dedit vires. Cum\ncarbaso illo (si fort\u00e8 sit usui) atque cunctis funibus retraho ratem ad\nnavem. Quintam illam proper\u0113 adjungo arcam, et aliquot res ponderosas\nimpono; inter quas h\u00eec nominare libet m\u014flam ferramentis acuendis,\nglandium majorum cadulos duo: in cymb\u00e2 autem meas vestes, et pulveris\nnitrati aliquantum. Cuncta deporto intra postes marinos incolumia paul\u00f2\nante tenebras. Vald\u0113 defessus inde redibam: sed aestus cymbam subvexit\nsine me\u00e2 vi. Vix poteram coenare; igitur pasto c\u0103ne felibusque, somno\nme commisi.\nCAPUT (II.) SECUNDUM.\n38. TRIUM dierum res gestas narravi singillatim. Imo in corde meo\ninscriptae sunt, quasi hesternae essent. In iis quae sequuntur,\nsaepius accidet, ut rem prob\u0113 n\u014dverim, diem meminerim par\u00f9m; nec\nlectori jucundum foret, ut res, si possem, diarii more enarrarem.\nDehinc, quae ex nave insuper avexi, summatim poti\u00f9s memorabo. 39.\nQuarto m\u0101ne dormivi post lucem. Jejunus, vescor avid\u0113: etenim in\naheno cibus aliquot dierum mihi meisque restabat. Sed quasi nervis\nsuccisis, languebat animus fastidiebatque suos success\u016bs. \u201cCur laboro?\u201d\ninquiebam \u201ccur-ve juvat me vivere, solitarium, moribundum? Quid prosunt\nnav\u012ds spolia, n\u012ds\u012d ut aliquot dies vitam extraham?\u201d Tum addidi clar\u00e2\nvoce: _N\u012ds\u012d fort\u00e8! N\u012ds\u012d fort\u00e8!_ Mox intelligo ventum a mari flare,\naestum violenti\u00f9s insurgere, in ostio periculosum forsitan cymbae\nfore. Cymbulam autem illam majoris qu\u00e0m cuncta quae in nave restabant\naestimabam. 40. Tum si ad navem ratem e portu meo traxissem--etenim\nillum maris s\u012dnum postibus munitum jam Portum Meum appellabam--quis\nsponderet, quin naufragium ipso in flumine pat\u0115rer rediens? Nubes porr\u00f2\nvolitare animadverti; imber ne caderet, meli\u00f9s tegi, quae exposita\nreliqueram in portu. Etenim cava plura ill\u00e2 in rupe cognoveram. Ill\u00f9c\nigitur pedibus confestim ire decerno. 41. Rupes ad laevam prim\u00f2 rubra\nerat, n\u012ds\u012d ubi alg\u00e2 obtegeretur; ipso in portu alba; ulterius praeceps\nac caerula: omnis autem e saxo (ut credidi) calcario. Portus cavis\nlocis, imm\u00f2 cavernis abundabat, quarum in aliquam possem sine magno\nlabore eas res recondere, quas pluvia corrumperet potissim\u00f9m. Per algas\ncactosque enisus, h\u00f9c reposui lectum vestesque omnes, item panem,\nignipultas ac nitratum pulverem, carbaso illo piceato contecta. Res\nfabriles et cetera graviora v\u0113lis obtexi.\n42. Jam corporis illuvies me vexat; nam per tres laboriosissimos\ndies ac duas noctes iisdem in vestimentis illotus manseram. Discingor\nnataturus. Pleno fer\u00e8 aestu quasi lacus maris clarissimus cor\u00e0m\nredundabat. Cadebat pluvia tenuis, sed inter nubes radiabat jubar; mox\napparebat arcus coelestis. Mir\u0113 ille visus stringit mulcetque animum\nmeum. 43. Atqui c\u0103nis in aquam me insequitur et mecum vult ludere.\nNostratium c\u0103num ille fortasse Graio Hibernorum c\u0103ni simillimus erat,\nMolosso domestico gracilior et velocior, glabro item corpore, ut\ncaloribus n\u0101to. Prob\u0113 n\u0103tabat, sed digitatus erat, non _palmipes_ (quod\nappellant); id est, digitis non erat pellitis; atque ego velocitate\nnatandi facile eum superabam. Itaque hunc dum eludo, me recreo. Ut ex\naqu\u00e2 egressus sum, is crura pedesque meos tam amanter lambit, atque tam\ngestit me recuper\u00e2sse, ut nequiverim me continere. In effusum fletum\nsolvor, velut olim in pueriti\u00e2, sentioque cor exonerari. Vestes mutavi:\nimmundas in aqu\u00e2 marin\u00e2 sub majoribus lapillis demergo: tum egredior,\ninsulam exploraturus. 44. Scando e portu per ardua. Inde video illum\ncollem, qu\u00f2 ante\u00e0 en\u012bsus sum, h\u00f4c a l\u0103t\u0115re ascensu facillimum. Culmen\nrupium planities erat sive campus calcarius, delicatis vestitus herbis.\nHae recenti pluvi\u00e2 ita erant recreatae, ut nova veteribus admista\nfolia florum praetulerint speciem, ubi rubor vel purpura cum novo\nvirore contendebant. Lep\u014fres sive cuniculi suis e latibulis egredientes\naudenti\u00f9s me aspexere, quos ne insequeretur, aegr\u0113 repressi canem.\n45. Mox in scopulosa loco evado, et capros discerno feros procul;\n_antilopas_ poti\u00f9s dixerim. Pone saxa inserpo, quanquam minim\u0113 fugaces\nerant. Glandibus olorinis tubum suffercio; dein igne emisso occ\u012bdo\ncapram vulneroque haedum juxt\u00e0. C\u0103n\u012ds intercurrens haedum prehens\u00e2\npelle attinet, dum assequor. Crure vulneratam posteriore invenio;\npoterat tamen incedere. Matrem volui reportare ad flumen vallemque\nmeam; sed fateor, adhuc eram tam delicatus, ut noluerim recentem\nvestitum sanguine commaculare. Sudari\u00f2 e sinu vestis extracto,\nargill\u00e2que ud\u00e2 in vulnus compress\u00e2, constrinxi firmiter; tum gramine\nsanguinem omnem abstersi. 46. Volui eam in cervicibus portare; sed\nquando conor, id ver\u00f2 meas vires exsuperat. Super glareosam humum\naegerrim\u0113 cornibus eam traho, in gramine facili\u00f9s. Haedi cornibus\nfuniculo circumdato, hanc duco mecum simul; id quod, dum ignipultam\nporto, paene nimium erat; igitur saepius consedi. Via autem et declivis\nerat, nec longa, circa alterum j\u016dgi l\u0103tus; itaque tandem perv\u0113ni.\n47. Protinus in udo linteo crus haedi astringo; et, ne longus sim,\ntant\u00e2 cur\u00e2 foveo pascoque (nam grandiuscula erat) ut mansuetissima\nevaserit. In aren\u00e2, juxta ratem primam, sub densis umbris, pelvem\nexcavo; in quam, aqu\u00e2 semisals\u00e2 repletam, recondo capram, ut otiosi\u00f9s\ncarni coquendae dem operam. Canem appropinquare vetui; pasco autem\nliberaliter et hunc et feles: aves tamen metuo, ne carnis sint cupidae.\n48. Dum strenu\u0113 me exercebam, vix sentiebam miserias meas: sed simul\nac lassitudo abrumperet operam, nisi somno corriperer, mens coepit\nagitari: id quod saepius mihi ev\u0113nit. Meas egomet cogitationes nequibam\ntolerare, et variis quasi ventis h\u00f9c ill\u00f9c ferebar. In desperatissim\u00e2\nconditione me videbam, extra navium Europaearum cursum. Fracto animo,\nlugens, interdum lacrimans, diffisus Deo, decreta ejus conquerens;\nrurs\u00f9s ipse memet objurgabam, solabar, hortabar, confirmabam, maxim\u0113\ngavisus qu\u00f2d tot res e nav\u0115 congessissem. 49. Itaque per id tempus,\nquoniam apud neminem potui vicem miserari meam, aperui capsam\nscriptoriam, ex qu\u00e2 chartam, calamos, atramentum, protuli, incipioque\nangores meos argumentando effundere, quasi per sermonem. Mox talem\naltercationem in tabulas (ut ita dicam) _accepti impensique_ refero,\nquas lectoris oculis nunc subjicere libet.\n  1. In insul\u00e2 solitari\u00e2 sum projectus.  1. At non es demersus, sicut\n  2. Ego unus e sodalibus enecor         2. At tibi uni restat spes\n  3. Exsulo e societate hominum.         3. At non serv\u012ds hominibus\n  4. Vi bestiarum sum plan\u0113 obnoxius.    4. At non in belluosam Africam\n  5. Laboriosissim\u0113 victum quotidianum   5. At magnam tu habes ex nav\u0115\n  6. Servio hic servitutem perpetuam.    6. At alios tu in servitutem\n  7. N\u012ds\u012d prius solitari\u0115 moriar, ad     7. At non tua magis qu\u00e0m\n     solitariam senectutem reservor.        parentum senectus erit\n50. Profect\u00f2 ultima illa nimis me pupug\u0113re. Quae pro levamentis\nscripsi, vulnus animi recrudescere fecerunt. \u201cPeccavi,\u201d inquam:\n\u201cmeritam poenam tolerabo viriliter: _fortasse_ ipsa poena aliquid\ntandem boni afferet.\u201d Tum cit\u00f2 sedata est omnis mea perturbatio.\nEgo autem haec atque talia reputans, admiror, quanta sit vis vel\nincertae obscuraeque religionis, si mod\u00f2 rect\u00e2 intendatur vi\u00e2. Illud\n_fortasse_ et _si fort\u00e8_ pluris est, qu\u00e0m quis putaverit; quia\nsaepius indicium est animi per tenebras, lucem vers\u00f9s, en\u012btentis.\nId autem ipsum est virtus: nam sapientissimus quisque nostr\u00fbm in\nsu\u00e2 tamen versatur caligine, semperque eluctatur pleniorem vers\u00f9s\nlucem. Itaque iter\u00f9m evasi strenuus. 51. Tum c\u0103ni felibusque haedum\nconciliare studeo. Omnes paxillis depango vicinis; unicuique suum\nlargior cibatum; unumquemque su\u00e2 vice demulceo. Ex consuctudine spero\nfamiliaritatem, ex me\u00e2 caritate caritatem mutuam. Postea ad portum\nc\u0103ne comitante reversus, alias exploro cavernas, pluresque res meli\u00f9s\nordino. 52. Tredecim dies in terr\u00e2 degebam, necdum navis evanuerat.\nIllam undecies (credo) ascendi. Quantumvis co-acervaveram, plus tamen\nconcupiscebam; et dum navis consistebat, inter eam portumque meum\nacerrimum sustento rat\u012ds commercium. Res aliquot, quas avexi, libet hic\nmemorare: Incudem artillatoris, quam aegerrim\u0113 amolitus sum; virgas\nvectesque ferreos; pensilem lectum cum lodicibus; supp\u0103rum ant\u012bcum e\nsubsidiariis: lacernas plures: piscatoriam supellectilem novam atque\namplam. Porro e re jaculatori\u00e2 magnos forcipes follesque, malleum\nrobustissimum, pelves ferreas ad plumbum liquefaciendum, batillum\ngrande. Tum omnes ignipultas, bonas malas, asporto; item alterum par\npistolarum. Dem\u00f9m fabrilem mensam, retinaculo cocleato instructam,\nmulto cum labore per tollenonem demitto, laetusque comperio hanc per\nse natare. Inter minores res memoro libram cum lancibus aheneis,\nsive trutinam oportet appellare, quam in scrinio magistri offendi.\nIlle propter medicas, credo, us\u016bs habebat; nam magister nautis pro\nmedico erat. Ego hanc, velut pecunias, idcirco asservavi, siquando pro\nnummis valeret. Ingentem plumbi convoluti laminam, quae nimia posset\nesse, securi malleoque discissam particulatim asportavi; etiam magnum\npilularum plumbearum vim, plures rudentes, funes, ferreos hamos,\nclavos, pessulos, confibulas, annulos. Cannonas su\u00e2 ex sede non eram\ndeturbaturus. Postea magnum tritici dolium laetus invenio, seriam\noptimi ad\u014dris, sacchari cadum majorem, vini ardentis amphoras tres;\nporro cultros furcillasque mensales, grandem forficem, tres novaculas,\nquatuor nautarum gladios sive sicas.\n53. Ne fort\u00e8 mir\u00e8tur lector, quare tantam bellici terroris vim\nin mercatori\u00e2 nave vexer\u012bmus, naturam illius commercii curati\u00f9s\ndemonstrabo. Homines barbaros e Guine\u00e2 eramus in servitutem\nreportaturi; quem ad usum \u00e9t ipsa navis et omnis ejus dispositio\nceteris erat vald\u0113 diversa. Grandiuscula erat navis, navales socii\nsexdecim. Cannonas habebat quinque,--unam a tergo,--ne forte aut\ncum praedonibus aut cum nigritis foret confligendum; neve, propter\nsubitum aliquod in Europ\u00e2 bellum, Lusitani\u00e2 implicat\u00e2, nos tanquam\nLusitani lacesseremur. Ignipultae quoque inerant plures, pars venando,\nalia pars pugnae apta. Simul pulveris nitrati plumbique rotundati\nvim magnam vehebamus, atque adeo hominem unum toti rei jaculatoriae\npraefectum: Artillator appellabatur. Harum rerum impens\u00e2 vald\u0113 minuitur\nnegociatoribus lucrum, nisi qu\u00f2d h\u00f4c in commercio merx quae exportatur\nvilissima est; quae reportatur, pretiosissima.\n54. Aliquot fabas prim\u00e2 in rate asportavi. Quanquam sciebam magnam\nhujus cibi vim navi fuisse impositam, sed infra in alveo, credidi\nmarin\u00e2 aqu\u00e2 corruptam esse. Nihilominus descendo. Puppim versus\nomnia sicca erant; in inferiore parte aqua stagnabat. Sed non me\nillud repellit. Infr\u00e0 nudus, per aquam incedo, quae genu attingebat,\nscrutorque merces palpando: tandem saccos invenio fabis plenos.\nUnum horum placebat avehere, sed quando conor, nequeo ad tabulata\nextollere. Re deliberat\u00e2, non operae pretium videtur de cibo madido\nlaborem pendere; nam asservari posse quis spoponderit? 55. Mox res\nduras acutasque sub pedibus sentio; ipsa erant ferramenta, quae inter\nmerces nostras imperaveram. Palae, plan\u0113 nostratium instar, profect\u00f2\nnon inerant; tant\u00f9m ligones, furcillataeque marrae, praeter sarcula\nac dolabras. Deinde in s\u0115cures inc\u012ddo. Tales res sub aqu\u00e2 dijudicare,\npaul\u00f9m difficile erat. Num operae esset pretium auferre,--dubitabam.\nTandem aliquot cujusque generis assumo, praesertim capita securium ac\nligonum. 56. Postea felicior eram. Nam in conclavi qu\u00f4dam, quod coqui\nnostri erat proprium, quinque offendi corbes, fabarum plenas, apprim\u0113\nsiccarum. Has curati\u00f9s repono avehendas, et aliam post aliam cunctas\ndem\u00f9m ad terram deporto salvas. 57. Porro dum mensam fabrilem amovebam,\nquae supr\u00e0 erat, non in alveo, pone in angulo fasces quosdam mercium\nretexi. Hos aperio. Intus erant versicolores vestes, quas propter\nAfrorum commercium imperaveram. Avid\u0113 corripio, sed nesciebam quare.\nPoste\u00e0 numeravi, inv\u0113n\u012bque sexaginta. Ceterae, ut opinor, fuerant in\nalveo.\n58. Duodecimo m\u0101ne, ut remigo ex portu ratem pone trahens, fluctus\nasperior aliquantum aquae in cymbam immisit. Exhaurire simul atque\nremigare non poteram: si remos inhiberem, verebar ne deflexa cursu\ncymba l\u0103tus undis objiceret. In portum, ut tutius, st\u0103tim redeo:\nibi roborandam suscipio cymbam. Altiorem facio proram, additis\ntabulis, quae, ferreis virgis firmatae, aliquantum asperginis possint\nrejicere. Non longi laboris erat illud; sed nimius ventus me terrebat,\nigitur reliquum diem scaphae addixi. 59. Illud consideraveram.\nNaufragium recente lun\u00e2 passi eramus ipsis in Kalendis Septembribus.\nAd plenilunium iter\u00f9m intumescente Oceano posse credebam sublevari\nscapham; grande momentum, servaretur-ne an prors\u00f9s confringeretur. Ex\narcis meis unam deligo, aquae (siqua alia) impenetrabilem. Quidquid\nin scaph\u00e2 infirmum videtur, summ\u00e2 me\u00e2 arte reficio, seu stupp\u00e2 ac\npice, seu argill\u00e2 vitreari\u00e2 opus sit. Simul ac aestus recesserat,\nancoram qu\u00e0m longissim\u0113 per arenas mare vers\u00f9s traho, suo ancorali\narcti\u00f9s scaphae colligatam. Dentem ancorae firmiter defigo, quoad\npossum. Ipso in ancorali, circ\u00e0 septem pedes ab ancora, funem brevem\nnodo astrictissimo implico; mox h\u00f9c deportatam arcam eodem fune\nconnecto. 60. Illud evenit, quod speraveram. Arca, aestu insurgente\nsublevata, simul ut ad scapham aqua pertingebat, (nam ego cum spe\nmetuque cuncta notabam) incepit scapham attrahere. Tum pro cup\u00e2[B]\nnatante arca mihi erat. Confestim decurro ad cymbam. Per aestum remigo,\nubi propter altitudinem aquae fluct\u016ds non se frangebat; et ut prim\u00f9m\nscapham assequor, eam remulco inhibens, solvo ancorale; nam ancoram\nextrahere, nimii id fuisset temporis. Mox, ovans et praegestiens,\nscapham in portum deduco incolumem. Haec in duodecimo erant die. 61.\nM\u0101ne insequente, quum speculor, sentio mari mal\u00e8 credi: tamen quasdam\netiam res volui eripere, quanquam rati non confidebam. Scalas navis\nac tollenonem ad ultimum reliqueram. Optimas habebat fores diaeta[C]\nprincipalis: has concupivi, quia bon\u00e2 erant fabric\u00e2. Cardines facile\navello: fores reste firmiter colligo. Dein suculas[D] cum trochleis[E]\nassumsi; ipsius porro tollenonis ferramenta omnia: sed scapum\nrostrumque ejus, quae lignea erant, trahenda per aquas destinavi, cum\nscalis et foribus. Ferreum onus, uno homine non gravius, in cymb\u00e2\ndecerno asportare.\n62. Impigr\u0113 redii, sed aestus in horas magis tumescebat. Tunc quum\nmaxim\u0113 intrabam port\u00fbs ostium, agmen pon\u00e8 tractum adeo disjectabat\ncymbam, ut ego perterritus funes necessario absolverim, ne demergerer.\nIncolumis egomet postes illos praetereo, laetus qu\u00f2d nil mihi cymbaeque\naccidisset, praeter asperginem profusam. 63. Ventus etiam atque etiam\nincrudescebat: post tres horas violenta flabat procella, quae totam per\nnoctem furebat. M\u0101ne, ut prospexi, evanuerat nav\u012ds.\nCAPUT (III.) TERTIUM.\n64. Equidem ut vacuum aspectabam mare, neque lacrimatus sum neque\ngemui, ne agitabar quidem animo. Sed tenerum quendam sentiebam\naffectum, tanquam si fess\u00e2 aetate parens, cujus magnis fruimur\nbeneficiis, legitim\u0113 ac necessari\u00f2 decessisset. Immo non tam nav\u012ds\nqu\u00e0m egomet videbar obiisse mortem. Ab hominibus abscindor, novo sum\nin orbe rerum, asto tanquam in aeternitatis solitudine. Ignotus me\ncircumambit Deus, cujus sentio tum misericordiam tum severitatem, me\nipsum culpans sed non amar\u0113, nec sine modo. Non in genua procumbo;\nnon preces, non vota concipio; grates non effundo, nec poenitentiam;\ntamen caeca quaedam, ut opinor, me penetrabat veneratio. Cert\u0113 eram\net tranquillissimus, et quasi religios\u0113 defixus. 65. Ex h\u00f4c statu\nme expergefacit c\u0103nis, amanter blandiens. \u201cAh! qu\u00e0m vellem posses\ncolloqui,\u201d inquam clar\u0113; et amore erga canem haediculamque meam atque\nipsas feles vald\u0113 pertentor. Prop\u00e8 poenitet me, qu\u00f2d capram matrem\nocc\u012bdi. Quoniam bruta animalia, si mod\u00f2 reciprocare amorem possint,\ncommunem habent nobis socialemque naturam, nolo vitam eripere temer\u0113.\nHaec cogitans, insuper memini, parcere nitrato pulveri qu\u00e0m sit\nbonum, pondus caprae qu\u00e0m fuerit molestum. Paul\u00f2 p\u00f2st quaerebam, cur,\nsi victum terra subjicit, malim ferarum more raptas vitas praedari.\nIlla san\u0113 quaestio profundius in pectus descendit, postquam ubertatem\ninsulae pleni\u00f9s compertam habui. 66. Sed exsulto, et pastis animalibus,\nde fabis meis satago, quarum aliquas aqu\u00e2 coctas velim, pro c\u0103nis\ncibatu. Postea has coquebam cum carnis frustis, cum sebo, lardo, dem\u00f9m\npiscibus vel oleo; faciebamque massas quadratas: tum si aliunde nihil\nforet in promtu, hinc et canem et feles pascebam. Semper denique h\u00f4c\nmodo pauxillulum carnis aut piscium pro condimento adjungebam fabis,\nfarinae vel radicibus.\n67. Postero die, coelo sereno et mari tranquillo, ligna tollenonis\net diaetae fores ejecta sunt in littore; cum minore detrimento qu\u00e0m\nquis exspectaverit. Has res, ut prim\u00f9m possum, citra vim undarum\ntraho; denique in cavernas illas, de quibus dixi, depono, et quando\nab aliis operibus vaco, restituo tollenonis ferramenta. Postea hunc\nad navale meum constitui, propter us\u016bs scaphae. 68. Sed de domicilio\nmeo multa erant decernenda. Cavernas in rupe qu\u00f4 latius exploraveram,\nmagis admiror. Ultra numerum videbantur. Aliae patebant, sine externo\npariete, tanquam porticus aut ambulacrum; aliae angust\u00e2 janu\u00e2, intus\ncameratae, junctae sunt item internis ostiis, ita ut tota rupes velut\nspongia esse posset. 69. Contemplans credidi, has mari esse excavatas:\nnam sub pedibus pavimentum erat saxeum, molliter tanquam fluctibus\nrotundatum, et quasi per latissimos grad\u016bs ascendens. Omnia mea possem\nhic optim\u00e2 cum disciplin\u00e2 disponere; sed de cubiculo erat praecipu\u0113\ncogitandum; nec libebat arborem meam pri\u00f9s relinquere, qu\u00e0m munitius\nquiddam reperirem. 70. Illud animadverti,--nihil saxorum praeter littus\njac\u0113re, quod a rupe cecidisset; et quidem ubi gelu est ignotum, rarior\nesse debet tal\u012ds rupium labes. Porr\u00f2 pavimenta cavernarum parc\u00e2 tantum\naren\u00e2 vestiebantur, tanquam vento illat\u00e2. Lacunaria fere camerata\nerant, hic atque hic quasi stiriarum massis distincta. Aquas per rupem\nstillantes crediderim saxo saturatas fuisse. 71. Littus externum,\npropius undas, algarum erat ferax; internum, ultra summos aest\u016bs,\nali\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam alg\u00e2 et cactis aliisque spinosis fruticibus opplebatur.\nPlures horum in decem pedes surgebant, aliquot in quindecim. Ex his\nsilva plurima et quasi umbraculum ante cavernas praetexebatur, nequis\ne mari vel a rupe opposit\u00e2 facile intr\u00f2 perspiceret. Ego autem,\narrept\u00e2 s\u0115curi, continuam sub rupe aperiebam semitam, succisis cactis\ncaeterisque, quidquid nimium obstaret. Jamque velut in meam villam me\nrecondo. 72. E cavernis duas praesertim denotavi, unam pro cubiculo,\nalteram pro penari\u00e2. Utr\u0103que internum habebat ostium, per quod aura\nflabat salubris. Senseram autem, et apud Mauros et in Brazili\u00e2, quant\u00fam\nnox frigidula corpus fervoribus adustum foveret atque recrearet; et\nsi in magic\u00e2 h\u00e2c horrend\u00e2que insul\u00e2 (sic eam quandoque vacuis oculis\ncontemplabar) per summos calores habitandum mihi foret, tale cubiculum\nmagni aestimabam. Opera quaedam hic meditabar, si h\u00f9c mea omnia\ncongererem; propter quod consulto opus erat. 73. Mari seu terr\u00e2, ipsam\nratem, sive bona mea ex rate, deducerem, aut periculosum aut laboriosum\nfore opinabar. Mox subit haedi cura, cui neque pabulum hoc in loco\nhabebam neque aquam dulcem. Mihimet profecto aquam imprimis anquirere\nopus erat: sed non diu hujus rei inopiam queror. 74. Etenim postquam\nper spinas fruticeti longi\u00fas patefeci viam, et dulcem aquam et navale\nscaphae idoneum invenio. Post quingentos amplius pedes abrupta humus\nerat, alveo marino intus penetrante, tanquem ostio rivuli. Intelligo\nalveum hunc, quasi flumen submarinum, ad Postes Saxeos continuari;\nintus autem navale, mihi satis profundum, etiam in recessu aest\u00fbs\npraeberi. 75. Hunc in alveum rivus e terr\u00e2 praeceps decurrebat. Spatium\nautem praetereundi inter rupem alveumque satis l\u0101tum patebat, succisis\nmod\u00f2 fruticibus. Jam tollenonem mente destino in margine erigendum: sed\nredeo contentus in vallem, de ordinatione bonorum meorum meditans. 76.\nOmnia de prim\u00e2 ill\u00e2 rate detraho disponoque subter qu\u00e2dam arbore, cum\nips\u00e2 r\u0103tis materie. Lat\u0113re volebam, si fort\u00e8 quis adveniret. Plurimas\ncaedo virgas, quae facillim\u0113 udo in solo possint frondescere, hasque\nita defigo, ut qu\u00e0m maxime, quidquid sit intus, obtegant. H\u00f9c deduco\nhaedum, velut suum in praesepe. Cistas quae pecuniam, quae astrologicam\nsupellectilem, quae pulverem nitratum continebant, has et capsas\nscriptorias aliasque res minores, singulatim ad cavernas asportavi:\npostea culinae instrumentum.\n77. Post aliquot dies, his rebus ordinatis, coelo sereno, censeo\ndeambulandum. Caput inful\u00e2 dens\u00e2, Turcarum more, obvolvor; quod quidem\nin Brazili\u00e2 faciebam. Balteo pistolisque succingor. Grandem cultrum\nplicatilem sumo ac peram; dein convallem ascendo juxta ripam fluminis.\nNov\u00e2 in regione omnia non possum lectoris animo subjicere, quae meis\noccurrebant oculis; sed plura conabor paulatim expedire. 78. Avium\nversicolorum tanta erat multitudo, ut nisi in Brazili\u00e2 praerepta\nmihi esset admiratio, tunc obstupescerem. Hic autem me praesertim\nalliciebat pulcerrima illa avicula, quam in Occidentalibus insulis\nAngli _aviculam bombilantem_ appellant. Plura quidem hujus generis\npassim volitabant, item mira papilionum varietas. 79. Immo, non mod\u00f2\nalia prors\u00f9s arborum, fruticum, graminum, foliorum genera apparebant,\nnostris hominibus ignotu, ver\u00f9m etiam fere omnis arbor reptatoriis\nfruticibus, vitium aut hederarum ad instar, vestiebatur; atque ade\u00f2,\nobruebantur plurimae. E tant\u00e2 varietate vix quidquam prim\u00f2 poteram\nagnoscere: ceterum imprimis anquiro esculentas radices atque ignis\nalimentum. 80. Quidquid juncorum obviam v\u0113nit vel cannarum, medullam\nexploravi, anne idoneum praeberet fomitem. Tria dem\u00f9m genera in peram\nselecta condidi, quae experimento probarem. Aridas sive ligni sive\nlignosorum foliorum reliquias celerrim\u00e2 flamm\u00e2 arsuras credebam. Talis\nmateriae plures asportavi pugillos. Rubos quoque notavi dumosque\naridos, ex quibus immensa copia cremando sufficeretur. 81. Mox fruticem\nvideo, qui piper gignit; sed magis gaudebam, qu\u00f2d dioscoreas esculentas\ninv\u0113ni multas. Duo harum genera optima pro certo agnoveram,--quae\n_alata_ appellatur, et quae _globosa_. Ulterius perscrutans, adeo\nabundare intelligo has radices, ut, si conservari possint, cibus semper\nfuturus sit in promtu. Jam _cinchonam_ video arborem, colligoque\nramulos plures. Ne longus sim, satis sit narrare, me circa hos locos\nposte\u00e0 invenisse medicas quasdam herbas, quas in Brazili\u00e2 didiceram,\net alias quas pro condimentis ciborum aestimabam. 82. Acclivitas\nvallis augescebat. Vix quatuor millia passuum aestus marinus in terram\npenetrat; sed modicus rivus pluresque rivuli descendebant per plantas\net arbusculas. Propius ad colles densantur generum diversorum arbores,\ngrandes aliquot. Nova simul atque arida folia in e\u00e2dem consistebant\narbore, id quod colores pulcerrimos contendebat: immo, exoriebantur\nfructuum germina ipso e ramo, unde pendebant fruct\u016bs putrescentes. 83.\nQuinque vel sex millia continuavi iter, semper ascendens convallem.\nEn vero, hic loci seges illa pretiosissima blanditur oculis, _zea_\nvirore et auro fulgens. Pl\u0113n\u0113 maturam credidi. Humi jacebant grana\nplurima et siliquae. Pigebat me, qu\u00f2d major mihi pera non erat in\npromtu. Quantum potui, inferciebam, jamque pro certo habebam cibum\nmihi nunquam defore. Tandem colles sinistri se demisere; atque alia\nvallis, latior atque amoenissima, quasi hortos viridissimos in sinu\nsuo retegit. In fronte mihi assurgebant juga altiora, montes paene\ndicerem, spissis vestita herbis, ex quibus undique stillabant rivuli\nperennes. Arbores fructificas admiror, inter quas dispiciens agnosco\ncitros, aureas m\u0101los,[F] et Assyrias m\u0101los, quas _limonas_ appellamus.\nSan\u0113 jucundissimus erat ruris aspectus, meque sensi esse opulentum\nlatifundiorum dominum. Utramque vallem mihi tanquam proprium protinus\nassero, nominoque priorem convallem meam, vel Convallem Fluminis,\nalteram Hortos meos.\n84. Mult\u00fam me alliciebat hortorum amoenitas, copia arb\u014frum et dulcis\naquae, defensioque montium. Deliberabam de commigrando ill\u00fac, nisi qu\u00f2d\nnollem maris prospectum amittere, si nav\u012ds veniret: imm\u00f2, prors\u00f9s nolui\ncymbae scaphaeque us\u016bs renunciare: necnon per pluviales horas nihil\ncum cavernis meis videbatur contendere. Etenim h\u00e2c in regione caeli\nliquebat mihi dirissimas aliquando esse expectandas procellas, quae\ntentoria ac domicilia perverterent; tali in tempestate nil cavernis\nesse comparandum. Pigebat me videre fruct\u016bs plurimos et optimos humi\nprostratos et aqu\u00e2 putrescentes. Arbores passim vim venti prodebant.\nSine dubio autumnales procellae tantas fecerant ruinas. Seri\u00f9s ego hos\nin locos processeram, messe fructuum praeterit\u00e2. Attamen h\u00f4c sub astro\ntam vegeta est vis terrae genitalis, ut novi fructus apparerent, qui\nmox possent maturescere. Plures horum concupivi, et de modo convehendi\nmeditabar.\n85. Redii ad cavernas alacer animi, curarum obl\u012btus. Peram oppleveram\nillis rebus quas memoravi; loculos autem vestium aromatis, gummine\net citreis m\u0101lis aliquot. Protinus novos thesauros curat\u0113 digero.\nDenique a cavernis in arborem meam propter noctem retro cedere, paul\u00f2\nlaboriosius videtur.\n86. M\u0101ne quum expergiscor, sentio dierum me amisisse computationem.\nNe prorsus fierem barbarus, ad disciplinam puerilem me reduxi. Dies\nincipio in digitis numerare. Quid unoquoque die fecerim, ego mihimet\nrecito; inde comperio, quinam sit hodiernus dies. Tum volo mathematicus\nrationes retractare. Dixi me quatuor libros e navi avexisse. Unus\nerat precum sacrarum libellus, secundum normas Papales: alterum erat\nde Geographi\u00e2: tertium nihil habebat nisi numeros ad usum navigandi\ndigestos: quartus ipsam nautarum mathematicam tractabat. Hanc perlego\nlibenter. Quippe non sol\u00f9m solitudine animum avertit, sed absolutius\nquiddam et sublimius subjecit cogitanti, ne semper de meis tantummod\u00f2\ncuris satagerem.\n87. Quaerere potest lector, qu\u00ee factum sit, ut ego, patre invito\nnavigans, nauticam mathematicam edidicerim. Videlicet, admod\u00f9m juvenis\nLondinum petii, navem anquisiturus, in qu\u00e2 peregre irem. Magna\nmihi tunc illa felicitas videbatur, qu\u00f2d humanissimo cuidam viro,\nnav\u012ds magistro, inc\u012ddi, in Guineam navigaturo. Is me clementissim\u00e8\nexceptum, pro suo sodale habuit; persuasitque ut, quantam maximam\npossem conquirere pecuniam, hanc commutarem idone\u00e2 merce qualem ipse\nadmonebat, et apud se collocarem. Ego igitur quosdam ex amicis pecunias\nrogabam, hique, exorat\u00e2 matre me\u00e2, fortasse etiam patre, quadraginta\nl\u012bbras Anglicas ad me remiserunt. Eas autem magister optimus sic\nadministravit, ut, ex Afric\u00e2 dem\u00f9m reversus, mercem quam rettuli, nempe\naureum pulverem, Londini trecentis l\u012bbris Anglicis mutaverim. Porr\u00f2\n(quod eram lectori demonstraturus) ipso in cursu, cum benevolenti\u00e2 vere\npatern\u00e2, omnia quae navis magistrum scire oporteret, diligentissime\nme docebat, praesertim astrologicorum praecepta, viasque caelum\nservandi. Ego sane, tant\u00e2 caritate delen\u012btus, summ\u00e2 industri\u00e2 haec in\nstudia incubui, rediique ex h\u00e2c expeditione magnopere auctus mentis\nvi, sive ad navigationem, sive ad mercaturam. Atqui, O meam maximam\ncalamitatem! amicus ille summus meus atque alter pater, morbo vehemente\ncorreptus, decessit subit\u00f2. Hujus me tenera subit memoria, dum\npraecepta mathematicorum retracto, dum stellam Polarem observo, locique\nlatitudinem (quam appellant astrologi) colligo; item dum noctibus\nsingulis omnium horologiorum libramenta convoluta intendo.\n88. In animo imprimis erat, ut Cristiano more septimum quemque diem\nquodammodo religiose observarem; enimvero mecum constituebam septenorum\ndierum opera. Sic (credebam) temporis computationem eram servaturus.\nMox vidi fore ut multa me prohiberent ullam praefinitam laborum\nrotam persequi; necnon sine religios\u00e2 contione res nihili mihi erat\ndies Dominicus: itaque ad aliam rationem me proper\u0113 converti. Novae\nlunae observantur facillim\u0113 et paene necessario. Navis fracta erat\nnocte proxim\u00e2 post novam lunam: quando altera adv\u0113nit nova luna,\ndecrevi mecum, atque unum def\u014ddi stipitem propter mensem lunarem.\nPostea eleganti\u00f9s res administrandas censeo. Paxillos praeparo\ntredecim modicos et compares, gemens identidem si universum annum hic\nmihi degendum erit. In assi idoneae magnitudinis tredecim foramina\nterebro, illis paxillis accommodata. Quoties redit nova luna, paxillum\nsolemniter infigo. Post lunam tredecies novatam, cunctos extraho\npaxillos, grandius terebro foramen et grandiorem insero palum. Hic pro\nanno lunari valet. Mox procedente lun\u00e2, menstruos paxillos alium post\nalium restituo. His constitutis, nov\u00e2 qu\u00eevis lun\u00e2 poteram computando\naffirmare, quinam esset ille dies secundum Europeas temporis rationes.\nCAPUT (IV.) QUARTUM.\n89. Jam ad res convehendas trahulam decerno parare: nam rei fabrilis\nnon eram imperitus. Hanc profect\u00f2 artem in Brazili\u00e2 magnopere\nexercebam, c\u00f9m propter varios us\u016bs, t\u00f9m quia ipse me animus excitabat.\nFabrilis nempe opera vald\u0113 fuit necessaria nobis, nec servis nigritis\nsatis bene cognita. Faber noster lignarius, bonus ille quidem vir,\nmalleo fortiter feriebat, serr\u00e2 patienter laborabat: sed accurat\u0113\nmetiri, coarctare commissuras, immo, rectam lineam ducere, vix calluit;\nnedum designare opus. Si novam quandam casam vel officinam struere\noportebat, praepropera ejus industria absurdissimique errores angebant\nme. Itaque hunc dum paro docere, ipse artem disco. Mathematic\u00e2 me\u00e2\nscienti\u00e2 qualicunque adjutus, poteram san\u0113 plura animo moliri, in\nchart\u00e2 describere, constituere, computare. Mox ipsis ferramentis manu\nprehensis, delineabam, dissecabam, runcinabam; nihil quod lignarii\nfabri est, intentatum relinquo. 90. Jamque, ut dicebam, ad confingendam\ntrahulam me converto, quae \u00e8t per arenas et super leviorem rupium\nsuperficiem facil\u00e8 currat. Dolio quodam ligneo, quod perfractum erat,\ndetraho circulos ferreos. Hos, velut calceos, trabibus duobus brevibus\nparibusque, leniter curvatis, subjicio. Supr\u00e0, simplicissimum constituo\ncurrum, in quo vehatur onus viribus meis tractu non nimium. Restim\naddo, atque finitum est opus. Quoniam in recessu aest\u00fbs continuus\nerat arenae margo a praesepi meo usque ad portum, h\u00e2c vi\u00e2, quaecunque\nvellem, in animo erat trahere: nec jam manibus humerisve portabam.\nPostea domum ipsam curati\u00f9s digero atque excolo.\n91. Conclavia ver\u014d habui nulla; plura quidem septa, siquidem\nunaquaeque caverna, seu locus cameratus, erat pro septo. Principale\nseptum \u2e24meum ipsius\u2e25 erat _cubiculum_, de cujus munimentis erit\ndicendum: dein _penaria_, pro cibo qualicunque: tertium, _culina_;\ntum, _fumarium_; deinceps _armamentarium_ sive _fabrica_; sextum erat\n_mus\u0113um_. In mus\u0113o l\u012dbros, horologia, astrologicam supellectilem,\nl\u012bbram trutinariam, materiam omnem scriptoriam repono, cum sell\u00e2 \u2e24e\ntribus quas habebam\u2e25 optim\u00e2. Harum rerum aliquot cum pecuni\u00e2 in cistis\nerant: mensam postea confeci. Septimum septum continere debebat ignis\nmateriem; _lignarium_ appellabam. Octavum pro _fructuario_ cedebat.\nNovum pro haedi _stabulo_ destinabam. Decimum ac remotissimum nitrati\nerat pulveris repositorium. 92. Cubiculum autem tale fuit. Angust\u00e2\nac cels\u00e2 fenestr\u00e2 intrabatur, cujus limen quinque pedes ab externo\ns\u014flo, duos ab interno aestimaverim. Alteram intus habebat fenestram,\nper quam aura flabat salubris: hanc tamen, prae mult\u00e2 me\u00e2 cautione,\ntransenn\u00e2 protexi. De valland\u00e2 extern\u00e2 fenestr\u00e2 cogitaveram; sed\narboreum meum opus imitari, in saxo nimis difficile videbatur. Plures\nportarum formas considero, mox rejicio. Puteum poti\u00f9s volo sub fenestr\u00e2\nfodere, quem ipse scalis transeam, dein scalas intus ad me retraham.\n93. Navales scalae meri erant grad\u016bs lignei, firmiter constricti\nfunibus, qui pondus hominis tut\u00f2 sustentabant. In navis l\u0103t\u0115re septem\nampli\u00f9s dependebant pedes. L\u0103t\u0115ra nunc his adjungo lignea, tantummodo\nut rig\u014drem, non ut robur addam; nam funium robur sufficiebat; sed\nquia flexiles erant, id hic erat incommodum. Scalae sic refectae octo\npedum habebant longitudinem. 94. Deinde ligones recognosco cunctos, et\nmarras bifurcas trifidasque, si quid horum possit cuniculariae hastae\nvicem gerere; s\u014flum enim calcarium robusto egebat ferramento. Talia\ninveni instrumenta, quorum ope puteum, brevem san\u0113, def\u014ddi sub ips\u00e2\nfenestr\u00e2, duo tant\u00f9m pedes altum, sed quatuor ampli\u00f9s a rupe exstantem.\nVecte ferreo, quanquam non acuto, graviora saxa amolitus sum, postquam\ninitia penetrandi factu sunt. Tum h\u00f4c puteo ade\u00f2 protectus videbar,\nut ne a pardo quidem foret metuendum. 95. Illud enim me confirmabat,\nqu\u00f2d feles ferae quae non \u2e24naribus confisae\u2e25 venantur, nunquam possent\nconjectare, quid in meo cubiculo dormiret. Ego ver\u014d interdum serpentes\nquoque formidabam: sed nunquam ne unum quidem anguem, magnum parvumve,\nme\u00e2 in insul\u00e2 vidi; quae, velut Hibernia, sancti Patricii benedictione\nvidebatur frui. Stelliones erant in cavernis, quos fovebam, quia muscas\ninsectasque comedunt: et san\u0113 facil\u00e8 mansuescebant. 96. Si ligonibus\nres non cessisset, fodinam paratus eram nitrato pulvere displodere.\nPraetermisi narrare, me, postquam dolium pulveris nitrati \u2e24aqu\u00e2 marin\u00e2\ncorrupti\u2e25 deportavi, intus crustam invenisse duram, intra quam pulvis\nsiccus erat et plan\u0113 incolumis. Crustam malleo comminutam reservavi,\net pro experimento, vel lus\u00fbs caus\u00e2, aliquoties in pyrotechnicam\nadhibueram, diffisus posse in aliquam utilitatem converti. Postea\ncredebam rudera haec nitrata ad fodinas displodendas esse accommodata:\nigitur asservavi, si fort\u00e8 usus v\u0115niret. 97. Pulvere nitrato eram\nprofecto assuetissimus, de qu\u00e2 re libet ampli\u00f9s explicare lectori.\nEtenim dum degebam in Brazili\u00e2, maximo studio \u2e24missilis plumbi\ndirigendi peritiam\u2e25 colebam. Nec san\u0113 unquam hujus exercitationis\nfueram alienus; sed neque patriam circa urbem, neque super mari\nopportunitates eam excolendi reppereram. Attamen in Brazili\u00e2, rure\naperto, ingentibus silvis, ubi prodigiosa insectarum vis \u2e24mirificam\navium qu\u014fque copiam\u2e25 in aeternum praestat, si quis sub sole potest esse\nagilis, ad aves venandas ipso agro attrahitur. Prim\u00f2 habebam ignipultam\nquandam a domino meo Maurusio dereptam; mox meliores quaesivi, imprimis\nex Lusitani\u00e2. Postea Helvetici cujusdam viri, qui Romae mercenariorum\nmilitum praefectus fuerat, ignipultas duas vel optimas fort\u00e8 potui\n\u0115m\u0115re, unam duorum tuborum; quas quidem hujus filius, post patris\nmortem illaten\u00f9s evagatus, inter alias res vendidit. Equidem ad tela\nilla probanda in scopum aliquando collineabam: sed quia vald\u0113 incertus\nerat a longinquo jactus, plures ac minores uno in tubo conferciebam\nglandes, quae, per aera dispersae, latius ferirent. Furc\u00e2 item\n_bitubam_ illam sustentabam, propter certiorem ictum. Et quoniam\ngrandiores illic abundabant alites, ut vulturius, ut ferus olor, ut\ngrues atque ardeae nostris diversae,--nec deest struthio quidam--hos\nquoque pilulis olorinis petebam, jaculandique omnino peritissimus\nevasi. Proh caecitatem hominum! quippe nesciebam quantum in solitari\u00e2\ninsul\u00e2 haec mihi ars esset profutura.\n98. Simul ac cubiculum satis firmaveram, volui ill\u00f9c commigrare,\ncunctis cum animalibus meis. Haedus paululum clauda erat, id quod non\ndolebam: tanto minus erat me effugitura. At ver\u00f2 tres jam mihi erant\nhaedi, de quo narrandum erit. Ceter\u00f9m falcato gladio \u2e24quidquid idoneum\nvidebatur herbarum aut frondium\u2e25 demetebam et convehebam ad cavernas:\nmultum san\u0113 \u2e24s\u014dli expositum siccatumque\u2e25 recondidi. Haedos omnes suo in\nstabulo composui.\n99. De novis haedis incipit narratiuncula. Trahul\u00e2 jam me\u00e2 adjutus,\ncupidinem admiseram venandi iter\u00f9m, ne c\u0103ni felibusque c\u0103r\u014f deforet.\nTrahulam per clivos clementiores surs\u00f9m traxi super molli brevique\nherb\u00e2, ignipultam in trahul\u00e2 habens. Canem non potui retinere, quin\nlepusculos venaretur: is prorsus evanuit. Ego ut prim\u00f9m in scopulosum\ndeveni iter, trahulam omitto, inter saxa serpo. Emergens capram\nconspicor cum haedis ad stagnum herboso in pratulo. Non me fugerunt,\nneque demonstrabant metum. Decerpo gramina, accedo propius et porrigo.\nHaedi accurrunt, libenterque rodunt. Ego cornua eorum resticulis cingo,\net laqueis brachio meo adnecto. Iterum iterumque decerpo gramen,\nstudeoque mansuefacere. Accurrit mater capra, grandis et robusta;\nhaec quoque e manu me\u00e2 comedit. Poenitebat me, qu\u00f2d voluissem tam\ncicurem animantem occ\u012bdere; nunc robustiore eam adnecto reste. Sed\nut prim\u00f9m vi se tractam sentit, violenter retorto capite manu se me\u00e2\nabripit, et priusquam me possim recolligere, cum reste eff\u016dgit. Exiguo\ntemporis intervallo convertitur. Haedos mecum videt, et directo cursu\n\u2e24summo cum furore\u2e25 me petit. Magnum equidem sensi esse periculum,\nnam et cornu incurrentis et ipse impetus lethalis esse poterat.\nCoactus me tu\u0113ri, demittor in dextrum genu, ne d\u00eberrem, ignipultam\nconstantissim\u0113 dirigens. Vix quindecim distabat pedes, atque ego ignem\nemitto. Quanquam capite et collo transverberata, plures gress\u016bs illo\nimpetu evecta est, titubansque ad dextram meam procubuit emortua. 100.\nObstupescebam, incertus quid facerem. Mox capram libuit omittere,\nhaedos attinere: nec longa erat ad praesepe via, per ardua descendenti.\nGramina etiam atque etiam decerpsi recondidique in sacculum; et\nsiquando male sequerentur haedi, gramen ante ora ostentans, alliciebam.\nHoc modo incolumes deduxi, gaudens praesertim qu\u00f2d mas et femina erant.\nPaxillis celeriter prope claudam haedum advenas depango, suggero\ngramina; tum festino, matrem reportaturus. Regressus, trahulam coactus\nsum per asperiora loca, ut possem, subducere, dum mortuam assequor,\nquam aegr\u0113 in trahulam compono; dein satis laborios\u0113 hanc cum ignipult\u00e2\nper saxosa loca deduco, mox facilius super clivis herbosis. Illam, ut\npriorem, demergere in pelvi sive piscin\u00e2 volebam, sed spurcam credidi:\nquare nil melius noveram, qu\u00e0m ut in praesens ramis frondosis corpus\noperirem: etenim ligo et pala non erant in promtu. 101. Jam de ferarum\naudenti\u00e2 reputans, intelligo homines h\u00e2c in insul\u00e2 esse ignotos. Id\nmult\u00f9m me solatur; nam quantumvis solitudinem detrectabam, barbaros\nsaevosque homines formidabam long\u0113 amplius. Porr\u00f2 si lepores avesque,\naequ\u00e8 ac capri, hominis metu vacant, si nunc haec animalia facile\nmansuefiant, stult\u0113 absterreri opinor. Itaque magis magisque pulveri\nnitrato parcendum decerno, et, quidquid ferarum posset, mansuefaciendum.\n102. Etiam congerebam pabulum. Multas deportabam siliquas ze\u00e2 plenas,\net dioscoreas aliasque radices; item cepe, bulbos, condimenta. Caprae\nsecundae carnem partim siccaveram fumo, partim sale condiveram, nec jam\nde cibo eram sollicitus. Duas vias e cavernis ad summam rupem ligone ac\nvecte tuti\u00f9s jam munio; unam, qu\u00e2 primo illo m\u0101ne, prospect\u00e2 scaph\u00e2,\nper praecipitia atque algas degressus sum; alteram ex portu praeter\nnavale meum. In difficiliore loco \u2e24stipites duo firmiter defossos\u2e25 fune\nconnecto, qu\u00f4 audacius securi\u00f9sque descendam; tum gradibus incisis,\nopus perficio.\n103. In reportand\u00e2 capr\u00e2, trahulae me quodammodo poenitebat. In arenis\nquidem bene currebat, item per saxa l\u0113via gramine vestita; sed in\nferaci humo super spissis variisque herbis, inter admistos frutices,\ntrahere qu\u00e0m portare difficilius fore sentio: ad dioscoreas, ad zeam,\nad citros aliosque fructus convehendos peras sacculosque meosque\nhumeros anteponi oportere trahulae, nisi meliorem potero munire viam:\nid quod me male habet. Igitur universam viciniam explorare cupio.--Dixi\nme ab excelso quodam colle prospectasse. H\u00f4c colle inferior alter, qui\ncavernas meas fer\u00e8 ex adverso despiciebat, littoris aspectum superiori\nademerat. Quum, ascens\u00e2 rupe, in inferiori colle asto (quem _Speculam_\nmeam nominavi) admirans gaudensque propiorem littoris oram contemplor.\nAd dextram, id est, ad occidentem, fluminis video ostium, deinde\nportum meum, tum in fronte promontorium modicum.[G] Contra autem ad\nsinistram, id est, ad orientem, inter humiles rupes ac mare, acclivis\nplanities arboribus proc\u0113r\u012bs mir\u0113 luxuriabat, palmis praesertim.\nSupr\u00e0, pone rupes, palus quaedam seu lacus angustus extenditur: rursus\nsuper h\u00f4c novus atque excelsior rupium ac saxorum ordo, unde pluvias\ncredo in paludem colligi. In or\u00e2 paludis viridissimas adverto herbas,\nplurimasque aves aquatiles. 104. Sed ego ad interiora me converto. Ab\nexcelsiore illo colle arbores quasdam in cavo loco videram, non multas\nillas quidem. Jam explorans perspicio omnia praeter summas arbores\nabscondita mihi tunc fuisse, interjecto quodam inferiore grumo. Clivus\nille montis quasi pelvi erat ingente excavatus, in quam multum aquarum\nex scopulos\u00e2 ill\u00e2 regione confluit. Hae, graminibus sustentatae,\nperpetuum sufficiebant rivum, qui in flumen, non long\u0113 a praesepi meo,\ndecurrebat. Inde fuerat mihi primus ille dulcis aquae haustus. H\u00e2c in\npelvi (nam proprium hujus formae nomen nescio:--convallis non erat)\nconsistebant arbores plurimae, Europaearum aspectum praeferentes.\nAmplius postea perscrutatus, repperi has non esse nostratium ad instar,\ntamen fructui lignoque utiles. Hunc locum appello _Saltum_ meum. 105.\nHinc poteram ligna devehere, sive ad fabriles us\u016bs sive ignis grati\u00e2,\nmulto facili\u00f9s qu\u00e0m a fluminis convalle. Quippe grandis ramus vel ipse\narboris truncus, tractus seu humi devolutus, ad rupem erat facile\ndescensurus. Sic postea saepius rem gessi. Minora ligna, quae igni\ndebebant inservire, ex summ\u00e2 rupe praecipitabam. Sed propter graviora,\nquae diffringi nolebam, robustam delegi arborem, ipsum ad marginem,\nunde magis praeceps erat rupes. Cursui tum devolventis ligni, fune\ncirca hujus stipitem contorto, moderor ac tempero, donec ad fundum\npervenit. Sed haec post aliquot menses.\n106. Quo meli\u00f9s intelligat lector mearum rerum statum, de situ insulae\net varietate tempestatum quaedam sunt dicenda. Insulae latitudinem\n(quod Geographi appellant) satis compertam habeo: poteram san\u0113 in\nstell\u00e2 Polari observand\u00e2 errare, sed non multum: grad\u016bs, credo,\nhabebat duodecim (12\u00b0) ab aequinoctiali circulo, Septentriones versus.\nDe longitudine nihil pro certo confirmare ausim: arbitror tamen\natque autumo eandem esse atque insulae quam Portum Opulentum (_Porto\nRico_) appellant Hispani. Nostris vero in chartis nihil omnino hic\ndenotabatur: porro quaenam sit meae insulae longitudo geographica,\nminim\u0113 nunc r\u0113fert. Propter tempestatum notitiam satis est ten\u0113re,\nbis in anno solem super verticem insurgere, ultimo fere Aprilis die,\nsextoque fere Sextilis. Intra hos continuatur aestas, quae tamen\nimbribus satis violentis dividitur. Imber quotidianus ac modicus fere\nad finem Junii mensis cadit, sed ipso in fine est san\u0113 immodicus. Post\nhoc siccitas et calor subsequitur. Maximos autem calores in terti\u00e2 fere\nparte hujus aestatis pono; vel, si ad amussim denotandum est, triginta\nsex dies ab Idibus Quintilibus perdurat aestuosum tempus. Hos intra\ndies rarior est pluvia. Quiescit ventus triduum vel quatriduum; tum\nvespertinus turbo san\u0113 violentus, attamen gratissimus, a\u00ebra recreat.\nHic rerum ordo fervoribus moderatur, longo mense amplius. Tandem summa\naestas disturbatur et quasi convellitur horrendis et pervicacissimis\nturbinibus, seriori in parte Sextilis. Hinc procellosum illud mare,\nquod nostram abripuit navem. In Februario item mense debent expectari\nprocellae; sed neque harum tempus praefiniri potest neque violenti\u00e2\ncompares sunt aestivis. In tempestate procellos\u00e2 abundant fulgura, post\nquae frigus ossa penetrat. Sed haec frigora si excipias, jucundissima\nest a\u00ebris temperies. Pluvia ut plurim\u00f9m cadit tenuis ac dulcissima\ntres vel quatuor horas unoquoque m\u0101ne per plures anni menses. Nisi per\ntonitrua, veste ad defendendum frigus non opus est, sed contra solem\nvestiendus es. Attamen post nimium fulgur Caurus ventus plures per dies\nmirum frigus incutit, sed semper citra gelu. Nec calores conqueror.\nLusitanum vel Anglum hominem equidem credo, si neque t\u0113m\u0113tum imbibat\net carne parcissim\u0113 vescatur, (id ipsum apud Mauros didici,) totum per\nannum posse laborare salubriter, mod\u00f2 per maximos fervores prudentiam\nadhibeat. In hieme cert\u0113 (id est, dum sol a meridie stat) si nimium\nexuaris vestimentorum onus, ipsis in Angli\u00e2 Anglis ad laborem par\neris. Spirante Cauro post fulgura, lacern\u00e2, ac spiss\u00e2 quidem, carere\nneutiquam potui: ignem aliquoties fovebam, sed rar\u00f2.\n107. Ego autem quodam die quum pluvia matur\u0113 destiterat, cymbam\ningredior remigoque non sine timore circum illud promontorium quod\ncaeruleam terminat rupem. Plurimas palmas video, quas credidi ejus\nesse pretiosissimi generis, quod vulgo Nux Cocus appellatur. Multae\naliae arbores fruticesque mihi ignoti illic stabant, sed ipse littoris\nacervus Portum meum referebat. Tant\u00f9m omnia hic ampliora atque\nuberiora. De _alg\u00e2_ saepius memoravi. Aliud nomen non succurrit;\netenim nostratibus viris res ipsa ignota est. Hic denoto, algas illas,\nut plurim\u00f9m, non marinas fuisse, sed maritimas, ultra summum aest\u00fbs\nterminum. Hi reptantes erant frutices, diversi generis; hibiscos,\nacanthos, conjectur\u00e2 dixerim. San\u0113 erant pulcerrimi, puris distincti\nfoliorum ac florum coloribus. 108. Deambulo in littore, cocos admiror:\nmultum cogito ac vescor spe. Subit\u00f2 memini remos vel optimos e coci\ntrunco fieri, scaphamque meam remis car\u0113re. S\u0115curim mecum habui. Unam\ne minimis cocis st\u0103tim exscindo atque obtrunco. Caput hujus in cymbam\ncongero, ipsam destino fune trahendam. Sed quum volo redire, aest\u00fbs\nrecessus me impedit: nam circa promontorium, ubi fuerat mare, nunc saxa\nlongi\u00f9s excurrebant, quae metuo circumire, ne in profluentem aliquam\nmarinam implicer. Tandem super saxis ingrediens, flexuosum reperio iter\naquae, in quo cymba natare possit. Hanc traho, saxis ipse insiliens.\nPostea truncum illum super humeris asporto per eandem viam; mox, cymbam\ningressus, me atque mea omnia domum laetus reporto.\nCAPUT (V.) QUINTUM.\n109. Pluvia quoties caderet, intus me abdidi, et in excolend\u00e2 domo\nsatis habui operis. _Armamentarium_ meum praesertim cum exultatione\ncordis aspiciebam. Arma igniaria cuncta, rite emundata, perfricata\noleo, hamis ad muros suspendi. Mensam fabrilem suo in loco constitui;\njuxta hanc, repositorium fabrile: in angulo, ferramenta agrestia.\nQuotidie suum quidque in locum severissim\u0113 repono, experienti\u00e2 doctus\nsic facillim\u0113 quidque inveniri, ubi festinato opus est. 110. Porro\nin _penari\u00e2_ ac _culin\u00e2_ multa ordinavi. Scalas quas ad cubiculum\nintrandum adhibebam, compagi cuidam ligne\u00e6 per hamos annulosque sic\nannexui, ut, super his astans, carnem supr\u00e0 \u2e24procul felibus suspensam\u2e25\npossem attingere; possem quoque disjungere scalas, quoties vellem.\nQuando memet objurgo propter nimiam carnis cupidinem, respondeo, me\nipsis felibus consulere, ne suum ipsae cibatum deperdant. In penariam\ncellam dolia item atque arcas plures collocavi: alias quidem in\nfructuario meo. Ceter\u00f9m pro culin\u00e2 sumseram ejusmodi cavernam, cujus\nin angulo erat quasi focus naturalis. Rimam quandam vidi, per quam\nfumus exire poterat: hanc ferreo vecte amplio. Porr\u00f2 foramen majus\neffodio supr\u00e0, ne fumus per culinam vagaretur. Exibat autem in alteram\nminorem cavernam, quam pro _fumario_ destinabam. H\u00eec carnem suspendo,\nsiquam induratam velim. Tum fumus, h\u00f4c modo diffusus, minus erat me\nproditurus: nam velut nebula in rupe poterat videri. In _lignario_\nautem meo, quidquid ligni ex nave deportaveram, et quidquid materiem\nignis habebat, illud omne reponebam. Vela quoque huc deposui, sed par\u00f9m\ncontentus loco.\n111. De corpore curando qu\u00e6dam si narrem, ignoscet lector. Quae\nsequuntur, plures ad menses, immo annos, pertinent. Dixi me sub\naqu\u00e2 marin\u00e2, post tertium in insul\u00e2 diem, vestes immundas lapillis\noppressisse. Poste\u0101 reputabam,--si vel saponem haberem, oper\u00e6 non\nfore pretium has nostro more in splendorem recol\u0115re. Spurcitiem\nvestimentorum non e colore consistere, atra essent an candida, sed\ne cutis excremento, quod quidem sals\u00e2 maris aqu\u00e2 optim\u0113 amoveretur:\nm\u0103nibus autem ac sapone fricatas, deteri vestes. Quapropter has ipsas,\nsol\u0115 siccatas, iterum postea induebar. Deinde etiam simpliciorem\nexcogitavi viam.--Postquam expertus sum, vespertina natatio quantum\nreficeret corpus, decerno, sub solis ocasum unoquoque vespere, ips\u00e2 in\ntunic\u00e2, cum feminalibus linteis ac tibialibus[H] (id est, tegumentis\ncrurum gossipinis) denatare in portu meo. Egressus aqu\u00e2, exuor\nvestimenta, contorqueo manibus, suspendo, alia induor. Illa altera m\u0101ne\nsicca invenio. Itaque recente semper vestitu pernoctor. San\u0113 per summas\npluvias aegerrim\u0113 siccabantur res: tali in tempestate madidas vestes in\nculin\u00e2 suspendebam.\n112. Praetere\u0101, cuti fricandae do operam, neque caesariem prors\u00f9s\nnegligo. Sciebam enim, inter barbaros, si qu\u0103 sit gens sanitate,\nproceritate, dec\u014dre corp\u014fris insignis, hanc praesertim cuti curandae\nsemper d\u0113di; sin autem me illuvie\u00ef permisero, in nullam non spurcitiem\nposse delabi. Equidem e nav\u0115 meas habebam mappas atque mantilia\ncum sudariis. Mappae detergendae corpori nimium l\u0113ves erant; mox\nin caloribus has adhibui ad genas protegendas, Arabum Scenitarum\nmore. Mantilia, ut quae villosa maxim\u0113, dum durabant, prae ceteris\napprobabam.--In capillorum supellectile nihil egomet habueram, praeter\nunum pect\u012dnem atque unam sc\u014dpulam setosam: sed totidem, qu\u00e6 magistri\nnav\u012ds erant, avexi, pluresque nautarum pectines. Nautis sc\u014dpulae nullae\nerant. Sc\u014dpulas equidem magni aestimabam; nam diffisus sum posse\nreparari. Barbae, ips\u00e2 in nav\u0115, semper promittebantur; nec in me\u00e2\ninsul\u00e2 me radebam, quanquam haberem novaculas; sed forf\u012dce identidem\ntondebam leviter aut capillos aut barbam.\n113. In tempestate procellos\u00e2, praesertim post fulgura, propter frigus\nCauri, quoties desisterem ab opere, lacernam induebar, nec spernebam\nignis solatium. Sed tum maxim\u0113 poteram laborare. Nova gram\u012dna aut\nradices aut viridem zeam, optim\u00e2 caule meliorem, aut ligna reportabam;\nporro utrumque tram\u012dtem qu\u00f4 in summam rupem evadebam, comparabam in\nmelius. Quippe rubram super rupem sperabam fore ut trah\u016dla tandem\nsub\u012bret. Quodam die imber superveniens infulam capitis meam humore\nsaturavit, et, tergo profus\u0113 madido, caurus ventus acerrimum mihi\nfrig\u014fris sensum incussit. Domum cucurri magis qu\u00e0m incessi, mutatisque\nvestimentis deliberabam. Ser\u012dca mea umbella e nav\u0115 in promptu erat;\nsed ubi man\u016bs esse deb\u0113rent l\u012bberae, h\u00e2c \u016bti non possem. Inter pluvias\nnimium sensi sol\u012ds fervorem, nec inful\u00e2 potui car\u0113re. H\u00eec omnia narrabo\nquae excogitavi, quanquam plures per menses.\n114. Caprarum pelles servaveram. San\u0113 molles erant et delicatae. Harum\nlacinias duas commod\u00e2 magnitudine absc\u012ddi, quae pro cucullo forent.\nJunxi supr\u00e0, a fronte usque ad occ\u012dput; inde per cerv\u012bces defluere\npermisi. Ips\u00e2 in dorsi spin\u00e2 duplices cadebant, contra pluvias solemve\numbraculum. Caput atque ade\u00f2 infulam comprehendebant arct\u0113. Quoniam\nfemineae quas habebam ac\u016bs tenues nimis erant fragilesque, idcirco\nsarcinarias adhibebam ac\u016bs cum tenuissimis funiculis: his satis bene\nconsuebam. Sed deps\u0115re volo internam cutem, quod quidem artificium\nparum cognoveram. Ego autem cinchonam aqu\u00e2 decoxi lento igne, ut aquae\nremaneret qu\u00e0m minimum, qu\u00e0m maxima autem foret ejus potentia. Mox\ninfudi in ferreum artillatoris ferculum; superpono pellem, ut interior\npars imbibat cinchonam. Post biduum, longulo ac l\u0113vi lapide, quem pro\nmag\u012dde[I] aestimabam, oleum pice imbutum impr\u012dmo atque infrico in\npellem: jamque pro depst\u00e2 accipiebam.\n115. Etiam summis in caloribus vix sufficiebat tunica,[J] nam contra\ninsectas tibialibus[K] erat opus. Sed dorsi quoque tegumento car\u0113re\nnequ\u00e2quam conveniebat; id quod prob\u0113 sciunt Lusitani. Atque erat mihi\nsagulum Lusitanum vel optimum, nisi qu\u00f2d propter nigrum calorem radios\ns\u014dl\u012ds imbiberet: quare aut albis testis marinis aut spinis fortasse\nhystriceis vellem san\u0113 dorsum obtex\u0115re. Jam, quoties humeris quidpiam\nportandum erat saltem asperum ac grave, suffarcinamentum desiderabam,\nne excoriarentur ossa. Intellexi spiss\u00e2 tegete esse opus, quae humeros,\nsi onus portarem, defenderet; porro solem pluviamve repelleret, nec\nimbiberet calorem. 116. Tale tegumentum dem\u00f9m contexui, postquam juncos\ncannasque insulae paul\u00f4 meli\u00f9s cognitos haberem; neque ullo vestimento\nsuperbivi magis. Contra calores superficiem tegetis madefaciebam;\ninde frigus gratissimum me recreabat. Item mappas ac lintea \u2e24quantum\npossem\u2e25 reservans, roscidis foliis callide obvolutis amicior caput,\nun\u00e2que deligo fasci\u00e2 sive taeni\u00e2. Quoties ex laboribus ac calore\nrequiescerem in umbr\u00e2, poteram, detract\u00e2 inful\u00e2, crines madefacere: tum\nvero assumebam cingulum, ne in viscera admitterem frigus. Sic caput\nfrigidulum erat, corpus tepidum.\n117. Scapham autem, mense Decembri nondum finito, gestio instruere.\nCoci truncum, quem deportaveram, cortice exut\u00e2, difficulter san\u0113\nsecundum longitudinem dissecaveram serr\u00e2, et in rem\u014drum formam magis\nmagisque caedebam. Etenim cymbae remi tanquam pro exemplare prostabant.\nAd remigandam quidem scapham sex homines cum sex remis adhibebamus,\nquatuor ad minimum. Ego, unus homo, duo ingentes remos moliens, nihil\npossem contra fluct\u016bs vel contra profluentem maris facere: attamen\nrestagnante mari ac vento, unus prope debilis remex aliquantum usui\nforet. 118. Circa Kalendas Januarias serenissim\u00e2 in tempestate m\u0101lo\nveloque scapham instruxi. Ancoram ejus cum arcorali atque ill\u00e2 arc\u00e2,\nitem tollenonis ferramenta, jamdudum ex arenis recuperaveram. In portu\nsaepius exercebam tum vela, tum remos; hosque in melius figurabam.\nQuorsum haec, nesciebam equidem: enimvero nisi perquam leni aur\u00e2 non\nauderem exitum; sed in scaph\u00e2 videbar quasi novam quandam ten\u0113r\u0115 vim,\nnecnon ipsam navigandi artem inani amore fovebam. Mox operae, quam\npri\u00f9s in scaph\u00e2 navaveram, diffisus, iterum carinam sarcivi. Ubicunque\nrimas metuo, argillam pice obl\u012dtum firmissim\u0113 infercio, donec omnia\nviderentur tutissima.\n119. At marinas profluentes, si quae essent requiescente vento,\nvolebam propter scaphae salutem cognoscere. Has ut explorarem,\nclementissimo sub vento, ulteri\u00f9s \u2e24meridiem versus\u2e25 in cymb\u00e2 processi.\nEcce autem, quando duo ampli\u00f9s millia eram a terr\u00e2, jugum montis long\u0113\naltius qu\u00e0m excelsus ille collis a qu\u00f4 ter, quater prospexeram. Ab\nh\u00f4c monte terram opinabar sensim desidere usque ad hortos meos. Jam\nvideo, si insulam ac maria rect\u0113 prospectare vellem, montem illum\nesse conscendendum; idque meditor. Poste\u0101 recordor, me ipso a colle\neundem vidisse montem, sed tantam esse ejus altitudinem tunc non\nsuspicatum. 120. Quanquam neque mites vellem feras timore mei implere,\nneque prodigere nitratum pulverem, decerno tamen exercendam esse\njaculandi artem, ne obliviscar, neve ipsa arma robigine corrumpantur.\nVersicolores quidem aves, quales fere inveniebam, vix me fugiebant; sed\naquaticae quaedam volucres, nostris non vald\u0113 dissimiles, omni astuti\u00e2\nac metu evadebant me. Has credidi adv\u0115nas esse, assuetasque hominibus:\npraecipuam earum sedem poste\u0101 conspicatus sum. Ego autem has pro cibo\net propter teli exercitationem occ\u012bdo. An\u0103tes erant, ans\u0115res, ol\u014dres,\nplumis formisque non omnino nostrarum ad instar, porr\u00f2 plurum inter se\ngenerum. Has, ut plurim\u00f9m, plumbulis in or\u00e2 tant\u00f9m maritim\u00e2 petebam, ne\nteli fragor ceteras terreret feras: canis autem, sive in terram sive\nin aquam dec\u012dderent, acerrim\u0113 eas reportabat. Si protin\u00f9s comedere non\nplaceret, nec eg\u0113rem quo canem pascerem, in fumario suspendebam. Quippe\nfumus et maturabat carnem et putredinem avertebat. Assae poti\u00f9s qu\u00e0m\naqu\u00e2 coctae mihi placebant; sed carbonem, Anglorum more, alt\u0113 exstruere\nnequivi. Supra ignem ass\u0101re necesse erat: quare alitem, membratim\nconcisum, fil\u012bs ferreis, tanquam verubus, trajectum, vivas supra prunas\namburebam.\n121. Eodem fere temp\u014fre columbas quasdam facillim\u0113 nanciscor. Dum colle\nregredior obambulans, alarum stridorem audio: mox conversus volatum\nquasi columbarum agnosco. Hae aves in cavum saxi locum se recep\u0113re,\nquem oculis facile notavi, credidique me posse illuc ascendere.\nPostquam cuncta conjectando emensus sum, virgam arboris \u2e24abscissam\npro signo\u2e25 terrae infigo: tum domum redeo meditans. Quantum possum\ncelerrim\u0113 columbariam cellam, perl\u0115vem illam quidem, compango: hanc\nhumero portans eundem locum repeto, post biduum. Virga illa eminens\nfit index; saxum ascendo, pluresque in cavis invenio nidos, quibus\nova nondum inerant. Unum nidum in columbariam meam cellam transfero;\nmox advolavit columba, intravitque cellam nidum repetens. Id gaudeo,\net relinquo cellam. Post plures dies reversus avem nido insidentem\ninvenio: quam ips\u00e2 cum cell\u00e2 motu clementissimo reporto domum; atque\nilla intrepida manebat. Conjux postea subsecutus est: ambobus, ut\npoteram, quotidie dabam cibatum. Postea turriculam confeci columbariam,\ncolumnae innixam, securitatis ergo: nec pullos volebam mactare, sed in\nspem amplioris prolis reservabam.\n122. Cibi quidem satis superque mihi erant, si mod\u00f2 convehere\npossem. Sed qu\u00f4 magis ruminor, laborem deportandorum fructuum horreo\nmagis. Hoedos in praesepe reduxeram, ne graminibus quoque congerendis\ndefatigarer; tamen \u2e24ill\u00e2 in convalle depress\u00e2\u2e25 oneribus gravabar,\nneque trahulam poteram adhibere, propter novarum herbarum luxuriem.\nDe tractoriis jumentis paene desperavi, videbarque in servitutem\nlaboriosissimam devotus; sin requiem capto, protinus mens fiebat\nmiserior.\n123. Accedebat quod calceamentis deficiebar. Naut\u00e6 super nave aut\nnudis pedibus aut tenuissimis sole\u00efs agebant. Cal\u012dgas ego et magister\nnavis habebamus, sed ego magnitudine pedum superabam. Porr\u00f2 saepi\u00f9s\nex necessitate mare ingredienti, corium caligarum se contraxerat. Ego\nautem post tres laboriosos dies, pedibus aeger, nolebam exire. Omnium\nrerum me taedebat. Nova luna jam intraverat. Assim ego quadratam coepi\ninc\u012bdere, inscriptionem quasi sepulcri designans. Tal\u012ds erat:\n                  |   _H\u00eec naufr\u0103gus solitarius_,  |\n                  |  _Quintum jam mensem enecor_.  |\nIllud iteravi ter quaterque, _hominum miserrimus_. At subit\u00f2 vocem\nquandam sensi, non auribus, sed corde: \u201cTu-ne omnium miserrimus?\nTu, qui summ\u00e2 pace fru\u0115ris, in pulcerrim\u00e2 uberrim\u00e2que insul\u00e2, sano\nvalidoque corpore! At ne te Deus Mauris iterum praedam projiciat vel\nmorbo feriat!\u201d 124. Cohorrui. Tum reputabam: \u201cAnne hoc illud est, qu\u00f2d\nvates sacri summ\u00e2 in solitudine afflatum Dei quaerebant? Numne igitur\nme qu\u014fque intrat ille afflatus?\u201d Mir\u0113 profect\u00f2 agitabar. Dein memet\nincrepui: \u201cO fatue Rebili, sanae non es mentis. Imaginari\u00e2 sapienti\u00e2\nver\u00e2que deliratione capi\u0113ris, si divinam credes te audire vocem.\u201d\nProten\u00f9s velut demortuus hominibus, vivus necessari\u0113 coram Creatore\nmeo, mir\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam ac nov\u00e2 audenti\u00e2 illum compellabam, et quasi votum\nconcipio. \u201cO Supreme! quisquis es (inquam), nimius tu es mihi: pavesco\nfanaticam dementiam. Sed dulcem redde hominum aspectum; tum prudenti\u00f9s\nte cognovero, pleni\u00f9s venerabor.\u201d Post haec tranquillior fiebam: sed\npericulosa esse sensi intervalla industri\u00e6, nisi oblectatione aliqu\u00e2\nsolarer. Quare pictam avem psittacum, si possim, cap\u0115re ac mansuefac\u0115re\ndecerno, si forte mecum colloquatur. De macaco[L] cogitaveram; sed\ntimui has bestias, ne maligno forent ingenio: san\u0113 aliorum generum alii\nsunt mores: itaque hoc consilium deposui.\n125. Mox lep\u014fres quoque vol\u014f cap\u0115re. Quippe saepius captaveram, neque\nars mea processerat. Lep\u014fres illi (seu recti\u00f9s cuniculi: ita credo: sed\nquia c\u0103r\u014f leporem potius referebat, idcirco ex prim\u00e2 ill\u00e2 nocte lep\u014fres\nsemper appellaveram;) attamen gallinarum domesticarum more se gerebant.\nQu\u00e0m proxime sinebant me adire, tangere non sinebant; sed in cava\nterrae prorumpentes, inde me intuebantur. Laqueos instruxeram plures,\nsed frustr\u00e0: jam piscando experiendum esse arbitror. Super nave flagra\naliquot robusta erant, quae (nam fatendum est) ad flagellandos nigritas\ncomportabamus, si ratio tulisset. Horum tria offenderam, avexique\npropter lororum us\u016bs. Nunc unius in fine hamum piscatorium grandiorem\naffigo. 126. Virgam quoque praeparo tanquam piscatoriam, sed breviorem,\nresticul\u00e2 instructam: huic fasciculum tenerarum herbarum adnecto.\nTres sacculos super humero portans cum virg\u00e2 flagroque, lep\u014frum adeo\nlocos. Sinistr\u00e2 fasciculum jactans, ad ludum allicio. P\u00f2st paul\u00f2 lepus\nincipit, ut felium catuli, persequi fasciculi cursum ac gramina ejus\nsubinde rodere. Flagrum ego dextr\u00e2 tenens, opportunitatem rei gerendae\nopperior, subitoque projecto hamo, super caud\u00e2 leporem opprimo.\nConfestim arreptum attineo, sacculoque immersum. Tantos ille ciet\nstrepit\u016bs, ut ceteri accurrant mirabundi; dumque obstupescunt, alterum\nverbere hami assequor. Animadverto marem esse ac feminam; quare satis\nhabeo, laetusque deveho praedam. Sub rupe ubi cava loca abundabant,\ncredo non male habitaturos; postea ad mansuefaciendos operam adhibui.\n126* De calceamentis pauca sunt explicanda. Quoniam labascebant omnium\ncaligarum coria, sensi validiore esse opus tegumento pedum: idque\njuncis ac lent\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam cortice plicatis concinnavi. E juncis, quos\n\u2e24diversi generis plurimos\u2e25 in sole siccaveram, cos deligo qui lenti\nsimul et relucentes viderentur: nam quidquid reluceret, id caunarum\nmore pluvias optime rejecturum credidi. Ex his plicavi marsupium,\ncujus forma erat pedis instar a convexo ad calcem praecisi. Dein e\ncorticibus, quas maceraveram, lora plicavi, lata min\u016ds duo digitos.\nVeterum caligarum fundum vel soleam sub marsupio illo positum, dum pes\nmeus inerat, loris illis circumligavi, nodavique super talo. Rudis sane\nhic calceus erat, attamen aliquatenus certe pedem protexit vulneribus.\nNon absurdum erit h\u00eec dicere, me ips\u00e2 in Brazili\u00e2 contra insectas\nsaepe Persicos gest\u00e2sse socculos, e tap\u0113te factos. Per hos non possunt\nculices mordere, sed spinae sentesque facile penetrant.\nCAPUT (VI.) SEXTUM.\n127. Circa Idus Januarias ad montem explorandum accingor. Lacernam\ncapio cibumque, si forte pernoctari opus sit. Mollissimos induor\ncalceos: _prospeculum_ adnecto balteo. Adsumo canem. Sed ante exortum\nsolem educo haedos, et (quod mor\u012ds mei erat) commodo in loco paxillis\ndestino. Tum ex convalle dextrors\u00f9m surgens juxta aquam desilientem\npergo, saltum vers\u016bs meum. Sed ascendo jugum, qu\u00f2 latius prospectem,\nsaltumque subt\u00f9s in laev\u00e2 facio. Modica erat acclivitas, sed continua.\nSub sole\u00e2 mihi breve erat gramen,--molle, frigidulum, non impediens.\nQu\u00f4 magis insurgebam, largior erat aura ac plena vig\u014dris. Facile\nl\u012bbereque incedebam. Dextr\u00e0, caprorum video scopulos ac pascua; sed\nad sinistram magno flexu redeo, dein convallem fluminis n\u014dtam attineo\nsupr\u00e0, moxque hortos meos. Hos simul ac praeteriveram, sinistrorsum\nleni deflexu contendebam, incepique ipsum montem oblique ascendere.\nJamque intellexi, longe facili\u00f9s h\u00f4c cursu \u2e24quamvis longo\u2e25 hortos\nadiri; nam propter auras montanas, siccius s\u014flum, breviores herbas, non\nmod\u00f2 non defessus, imm\u00f2 recreatus sum itinere. Ubi aquula quaedam a\nmonte desilit, c\u0103n\u012ds incipit lamb\u0115re. Sic monitus, cibis communicatis,\nvescor biboque. 128. Ut prim\u00f9m monte de summo prospexi, praegestiens\ncuncta admiror. Valde praeceps erat mons occidentem ac Septentriones\nvers\u00f9s, id est, ad mare. Ipsa aetheris claritas extentusque Oceanus\npulcerrima erant. At ego propi\u00f9s circumspecto alterum in l\u0103tus, unde\nclementissime surgebat tanta altitudo, illam vallem lustraturus in qu\u00e2\nsupern\u00e8 horti erant mei. Penit\u00f9s despicere nequivi, sed per oppositos\nclivos cursum ejus usque ad mare indago. Aestus tunc qu\u00e0m maxime\nrecesserat; laetus tamen animadverto rivum se in mare effundentem,\nduosque \u2e24quasi hujus tributarios\u2e25 de diversis ripis rivulos, quorum\nutervis scapham meam possit excipere. Per prospeculum dispiciens,\nfacil\u00e8 vidi palmas astare praegrandes \u2e24ostium rivi vers\u00f9s\u2e25 et paene\nad oram maris. Postquam ill\u00e0c satiavi oculos, conversus in aliam\nterrae regionem aspecto. Vasta h\u00eec subjecta est silva usque ad ultimum\ninsulae littus. Declivitas modica erat, nec continua: quindecim millia\nsilvae ad minimum haec aestimabam. Ne prospeculi quidem ope ultimarum\npoteram arborum naturam cognoscere, ceter\u00f9m proximae ultimaeque valde\nerant dissimiles. Ad Aquilones Juga Caprina (sic enim nominabam)\nscenam concludebant, sed mare supereminebat. 129. Haec dum commeditor,\nprospectoque circumcirc\u00e0, repente terram e longinquo videor videre\nmeridiem versus. Dispicio, anne sit nebula. Etiam atque etiam\ncontemplor: dem\u00f9m agnosco latissime porrectam terram, valde humilem,\nsed terram tamen. Prim\u00f2 me spe illud ac gaudio affecit. Continentem\nAmericae meridianam esse pronuncio: mox fateor, nihil id ad me. Etenim\ntalis regio solitudo est vastior, foedior, immanior longe qu\u00e0m haec est\ninsula. Fac abesse barbaros homines pantherasque; at illic si forem,\naut in latissim\u00e2 atque inhuman\u00e2 aren\u00e2 projicerer, aut (quod credo\npoti\u00f9s) in aggeribus silvosis maximi alicujus fluvii, inter paludes\nimmensas atque insaluberrimos vap\u014dres. Sane haec insula prae continente\nill\u00e2 tanquam Parad\u012bsus est. 130. Retorqueo oculos meum vers\u00f9s regnum,\ncontentus, laetiorque; tum direct\u00e2 incipio vi\u00e2 descendere, donec totu\nmihi vallis patet. Mox hortos meos considerans, frutices observo\ngrossulariis[M] non dissimiles, quibus propiores clivi distincti sunt.\nHos versus dirigo gradum. Magis magisque uvidum invenio hoc l\u0103tus jugi,\nvelut spongiam; id quod rivum perennem promittit, herbis pluvialem\naquam multos per menses sustentantibus. Frutices autem illi in sicciore\nstabant or\u00e2, quanquam prop\u00e8 ad humida. Vites recognosco, et uvas credo\nposse su\u00e2 in tempestate hinc deferri. Porr\u00f2 cruda m\u0101la citrea colligo\nplura limonasque ad delicias bibendi.\n131. Regredior paullatim descendens, donec ad juncturam vallium\npertingo. At ipso in laevo vallis l\u0103t\u0115re quasi viam naturalem cespite\nobductam conspicor, quae declivitate perqu\u00e0m modic\u00e2 \u2e24saltum versus\nmeum\u2e25 ducit. Per hanc libet degredi. Nusquam min\u00f9s decem pedes l\u0101ta\nerat. Supr\u00e0 ad laevam, infra ad dextram, clivus satis arduus erat,\nherbis multorum generum abundans, sed in fundo arboribus consitus\ndensissimis. Agnovi protin\u00f9s, facillime posse in trahul\u00e2 me\u00e2 ex hortis\nh\u00e2c vi\u00e2 fruct\u016bs ad rupes super cavernis devehi; nam cespes erat\nbrevis, durissimo in s\u014flo atque (ut arbitrabar) calcario; jamque uno\nin conspectu prop\u00e8 tria millia viae hujus patebant. Deambulans alacer,\nsaltum tandem meum in laev\u00e2 praetereo, mox desilientem illum rivulum\nassequor, videoque non posse trahulam sine ponte h\u00e0c transire. Sed\ntalem pontem non magni esse oper\u012ds judico.\n132. Praeclarum sane videbatur hujus diei iter. Laetus, atque\nidcirco liberalior, tritico atque hordeo Europaeo columbas largiter\npasco. Has fruges \u2e24in sacculis cond\u012dtas\u2e25 e nave asportaveram, sed\nparvi aestimabam; nunc columbis largior. Neque unquam sane has aves\nneglexi, sed inter famulos reputans, plus minusve cibi impertiebam.\n133. In universum aestimanti, tres partes \u2e24natur\u00e2 diversas\u2e25 insula\nexhibebat,--fructiferam, sterilem, silvestrem. Sterilia ac sicca\nCaprinum opinor Jugum collesque vel grumos inde porrectos usque ad\nportum meum: ultra Jugum quidnam fuerit, nondum videram. Spatio longe\nminimo fortasse erat fructifera; sed ubi tantae silvae, ibi fruges\naliquando esse possent.\n134. Equidem postquam sensi quanto cum labore radices esculentas\ne convalle humeris portem, placuit cymb\u00e2 devehere, si cum aestu\nmaris flumen ascendere possem. Quodam die hos propter us\u016bs solito\nmaturi\u00f9s ill\u00e2tenus ascenderam, ubi quaedam humo nascentia colligerem;\ntum, n\u012ds\u012d contra aestum me defatigare vellem, duas fere horas erat\nconsidendum. Quare cymb\u00e2 transgressus flumen, regionem ex Occidente\noppositam exploro. Ostium vers\u00f9s fluminis valde praeceps erat ripa,\nsed ubi aestus maris desinit, leniorem habebat clivum. Collis\ncalcarius esse videbatur, alteri illi super cavernis meis simillimus.\n135. Simul ac culmen attigi, mare vers\u00f9s omnia esse praecipitia\nintelligo. In brevibus herbis prostratus, caput ultra marginem\nrupis protendo, ejusque radices subt\u00f9s video undis etiamnum lavari.\nUlterius ad Septentriones surgebat mons insulae ille altissimus,\nquam exploraveram. Celeriter ea vidi quae maximi erant, redeoque\nproperus. 136. Vix attingo cymbam, atque tres conspicor psittacos in\nramis considentes. Flagrum arripio (id erat in cymb\u00e2), item illico\nvirgam dec\u012bdo. Concitatiore flagri verbere psittacum assequor, hamoque\ndeprehendo. Rostrum ejus metuens, sarmento oculos meos protegebam.\nIlle autem subito dolore territus, prors\u00f9s exuit fortitudinem, neque\nvalde reluctabatur. Itaque sarmento, quod in laev\u00e2 tenebam, caput\nejus opprimo, mox pede inculco sarmentum, expeditoque cultello unam\nplumam circumcido. Ne longus sim, funiculo attentum deveho domum,\nasperiore captur\u00e2 nihil gravius perpessum. Fune pede deligo, pertic\u00e2 ad\ninsidendum dat\u00e2. Facilius id videbatur, qu\u00e0m caveam e cancellis facere.\n137. Ego autem captivis leporibus consulens, dolium quoddam e\nperfractis transenn\u00e2 instruxeram: hic in cavo rupis degebant. Fimus\ncaprinus, quem e stabulo egererem, in sicciore humo appositus, locos\npraeparabat in quibus cespites herbasque leporibus dilectas defoderem.\nLep\u014fres summ\u00e2 cur\u00e2 pasco ac mansuefacio.\n138. Sed in narratione me\u00e2 paullum nunc regredi opus est. Ut\nme oblectarem, saepius l\u012dbrum sumebam; ali\u00e0s mathematicum illum,\nqui teneram curam primi mei atque optimi patroni revocabat; ali\u00e0s\ngeographicum. Hinc quodam die de Indis edisco, qu\u00e0m prudenter feros\nelephantos mansuefaciant. Equidem de capris meis ad trahulam jungendis\ncogitaveram, sed nondum grandes erant: harum autem opperiri \u00e6tatem,\nlongum videbatur. Jam, his perlectis, credidi, posse caprum ferum\npariter ac ferum elephantum ad quamlibet aptari disciplinam, cujus\nquidem \u2e24ipsius natura\u2e25 foret capax: cuncta in eo verti, ut feram in\nmanu ten\u0113res. 139. Re ponderat\u00e2, demum egressus sum, certus depugnandi.\nDuas succingor pistolas, quibus me in extremis protegam; sed restibus\nlaqueisque sum fretus. Laqueis duobus tribulos ferreos, si recte rem\nnomino, validissime annexueram. Tribuli autem tali erant natur\u00e2, ut,\nhominis pede oppressi, trina spicula in s\u014flo defigerent. In reticul\u00e2\nherbas comportabam eas quas maxime deligebant capri. Canem domi\nconstringo, atque sic armatus sedes peto caprinas. Plures ibi video\ncapras atque hoedos; mox caprum quendam grandem ac robustum contemplor,\n(vix minor erat qu\u00e0m bonus asinus) qui viribus confisus seorsim\nagebat. Hunc adeo, herbas suavissimas porrigens. 140. Ille autem neque\nterritus neque iratus, accedit roditque libenter. Herbas in humum\nprojicio, dumque pascitur, laqueos cum tribulis super cornibus impono.\nTribulum unum pede pressum humi infigo; dein, antequam sentiat, inculco\nalterum quoque, et sub pede attineo. Protin\u00f9s gnarus se illigatum,\nin posterioribus cruribus se erigit, surs\u00f9m capite n\u012btens: ego autem\ntertio laqueo pedes ejus primores involvo. In eo erat ut alterum\nextraheret tribulum, quando arcte constrictis primoribus pedibus, quos\nin a\u00ebre habebat, ego asperrime trudens dejicio eum in l\u0103tus. Consido\nin armum, inculcans cornu. Ille autem sic depresso capite pedibusque\ncorreptis, onus violentissime detrectabat, sed nequibat excutere. Ego\nnon invitus sino eum se defatigare calcitrantem, subulamque[N] grandem\nac lorum expedio. 141. Summ\u00e2 in tranquillitate labrum ejus superius\nperfodio, atque insero lorum, quod annuli instar concinno, pluries\nnodatum. Tribulis novo in loco defixis, ampli\u00f9s paulo libertatis\npedibus ejus permitto, ut amplius se defatiget frustr\u00e0 conn\u012btendo.\nTandem defessus, sudore perfusus, requiescit. Herbis in reticulam\nrecollectis, surgo; convello tribulos, appendoque cervici ejus;\ntum labro traho leniter. Is, dolore gemens, erexit se, invitusque\nsequebatur, pedibus etiamnum constrictis, sed non adducte. 142. Sic\nquinquaginta forsitan pass\u016bs eum deduxi. Tum subit\u00f2 reluctabatur;\nsed dolore labri perc\u012dtus, cornu me feriebat: id ver\u00f2 facile caveo,\nloro subtrahens; simul, iterum adducto laqueo, praepedio crura. Sane\nille totus contremiscere, praeteritorum memor et posth\u00e0c me sequitur\nobedientissime: quod simul atque animadverto, porrigo herbas ante\nnares. Nolebat rodere, sed odorem libens captabat; jamque facile eum in\nsaltum meum deduco. Ibi arbori firmiter alligatum fame paro expugnare.\nPorro id nullius erat laboris; etenim postquam haedos juxt\u00e0 affixeram,\nmixt\u00e2 crudelitate et clementi\u00e2 mox plenissime est domitus.\n143. Explorato, posse feram sic subigi, post aliquot dies capram\npariter aggressus, hanc quoque vel facili\u00f9s deduxi. Duo haedi grandes\nac paene adultae matrem ad praesepe volentes secutae sunt; tum nova\nveteri admista caterva cit\u00f2 maerere destitit. Itaque grex meus jam\ncaprum habebat ac capram, item tres haedos duasque juvencas capras.\nEgo ver\u00f2 cunctos incipio trahul\u00e2 consuefacere. Difficile sane est\nres gestas ordine st\u0101to narrare. Quippe perpetuo variabantur labores\nmei, neque unquam uno quasi nisu ullum opus perfeci, sed particulatim\noperabar, seu tempestate coeli motus, seu phantasi\u00e2, vel subit\u00f2 aliquid\nrecordans; et siquid par\u00f9m bene valere crederem, reficiebam in melius.\nDe piscatione me\u00e2 mox sum dicturus. Sic, inter labores multos et otii\npaulum, praeteri\u00eare menses.\n144. Circa Kalendas Apriles, ut credo, imber matutinus (de qu\u00f4\nmemoravi) largior et almior cecidit. Mirum inde vigorem nacta sunt\nomnia quae gignit humus, miramque ego ipse voluptatem percepi.\nExspatiandum decerno. Ad speculam meam (de qu\u00e2 ant\u00e8 memoravi) enisus,\nprogredior ut littus ad Orientem ampli\u00f9s cognoscerem. Duo millia\nfortasse passus processeram, quum viam quandam _Lunatam_ video (si\nsic licet appellare), quae flexu continuo, acclivitate modic\u00e2, ab or\u00e2\nmaris palmarum feraci ad culmen hujusce regionis ducebat. Jam praeter\noram maritimam duo numerabam promontoria duosque sin\u016bs: nunc _Tertium_\nhunc appello s\u012dnum. 145. Ceteris in rebus prim\u00f2 nihil n\u014fvi exhibebatur,\nnisi qu\u00f2d arenae extendebantur latissimae. Pluribus has rebus\ndistinctas videbam. Expedito prospeculo, marinas dispicio testas,--imm\u00f2\ntestudines,--diversissimas magnitudine. Id quidem gaudeo. Porro h\u00f4c\nin sinu palmae ita dominabantur, ut vix quidquam aliud inter arbores\ndesuper viderim. Paludes autem longiores in rupibus continuabantur\nsupr\u00e0 palmas illas. Ut explorem cuncta propius, palude qu\u00e2dam non\nfacil\u00e8 circuit\u00e2, descendo ad oram maris. Tria palmarum genera agnosco,\nflecto sensim ad sinistram, dem\u00f9m Lunat\u00e2 ill\u00e2 vi\u00e2 domum redeo. 146.\nPostea mecum excutiens, cur in portu meo cacti optim\u0113 crescerent,\npalmarum nihil esset; colligo, quia paludes apud me super rupibus\nnon sint, idcirc\u00f2 neque cocos neque alias palmas nasci. 147. Jam de\ngrege quotidiana me incessit cura, ignarum quid sanitati necessarium\nforet, et quantus ac qualis hujus aestatis calor. Multa feci, mox\ninfecta reddidi; quae narrare non opus est. In saltu meo novum praesepe\nmeditabar. Sed haedos non effugituros credo, retentis capro capr\u00e2que;\nigitur solvo. C\u0103nis autem tunc mecum erat, ipsum ad saltum. Is, simul\nut haedi excurrere in prata coeperunt, nov\u00e2 libertate gestientes,\nipse ludi fit particeps: quippe collusorem diu non habuerat. Tum mihi\naspectus san\u0113 erat jucundissimus. 148. Caper, imm\u00f2 capra, ut credo,\nbrevi in curriculo plerosque canes venaticos superat, sed c\u0103ni perdurat\nvelocitas. Ipsae se haedi tam pern\u012bces ostendebant, ut non sine magn\u00e2\ncontentione c\u0103nis eas praeverterit. Neque volebant effugere; nam iter\u00f9m\niter\u00f9mque redibant. Ego vero omnium hilaritate exhilaratus, increpo\nmemet, qu\u00f2d cicures animantes tam innocenti voluptate privaverim.\n149. Capros hos dictito; attamen nequaquam erant nostratium caprorum ad\nnormam. Antilopas equinos vel \u1f44\u03c1\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1\u03c2 fortasse quis illos appellaverit.\nCervix horum carnosa et arcuata, armus amplus planusque, equum\ngenerosum referebat. Pellis brevissimo delicatissimoque villo sive\nlanugine, colore mustelino, vestiebatur; neque seta inerat neque\np\u012blus, praeterqu\u00e0m in jub\u00e2 atque in m\u0103ris barb\u00e2. Juba fere tota in\nipso sedit armo. Lacertosiores erant qu\u00e0m damae fulvae; fero poti\u00f9s\ncervo comparaverim. Cetera erant rotunda, bene compacta; crura autem\ngracilia, ex osse densissimo. Os frontis vald\u0113 robustum credidi. Cornua\nnon recurva, sed propiora taurinis; id quod arcuatae cervici credebam\naptius. Caprae cornua divergebant aliquantum. 150. Anteh\u00e0c cunctos\nin trahul\u00e2 exercueram, sed sine pondere: pondus nudo dorso saepius\nimponebam: nunc capro capraeque quotidianum laborem adjudico, si rect\u0113\npossim apparare. Retinacula funalia trahulae adaptaveram, sed collare\ntractorium long\u0113 erat difficilius. Quidquid compegeram, rudius esse\nsensi: id enim erat agendum, ut ne pulmonem onus opprimeret. Vidi tamen\narmos cervicemque equinis esse tam comparia, ut si male res cessisset,\nartifex culpandus foret, non animal. Nihilominus toties male rem gessi,\nut destiterim ampli\u00f9s h\u00e0c in vi\u00e2 conari. Funes dem\u00f9m meos circum\nfrontem, cornibus sustentatos, composui; id quod si non optim\u0113, at\nsatis bene confecit rem.\n151. Ligna quae superne ad rupis marginem convexi, \u2e24ut plurim\u00f9m\u2e25\ndevolvo, trahul\u00e2 supr\u00e0 relict\u00e2. Fere quotidie post finitum imbrem\nhaedos cum cane submitto in clivis lusuros. Vald\u0113 mihi placebat, qu\u00f2d\nc\u0103nis circumcurrere et circumscribere eas, pastoricii c\u0103nis more, magis\nindi\u00e8s discebat. Ego autem, si longiuscul\u0113 abesse viderentur, jubebam:\n\u201ciret, reduceret:\u201d quod quidem ille, quasi prob\u0113 intelligens, confestim\nfaciebat. Porro grex ipse canem diligere videbatur. Jam sperabam non\nnecesse fore ut has vincirem, quae ferae libertatis non recordarentur.\n152. Aliud quoque mox excogitavi. Ex virgul\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam, puerorum\nnostrorum more, cavat\u00e2 ac terebrat\u00e2, fistulam confeci. H\u00e2c clar\u0113\ncanebam quoties gregem eram pasturus: imm\u00f2, si in vi\u00e2 inter trahendum\ncapro forem vescendi facturus copiam, fistul\u00e2 ante\u00e0 sedulo sonabam;\nneque unquam eos frustrabar, sed post illum cantum, aut cibatum illis\naut potum fidelissim\u0113 afferebam. Inde factum est, ut sono fistulae\nlibentissim\u0113 accurrerent. 153. De cibo meo restat aliquid narrandum.\nPanem nauticum ac farinam e nave e\u00f4 magis consumebam, quia verebar\nne mucescerent. Video autem, si Summi Numinis decreto hic diutius\nmihi sit degendum, domesticis opus esse copiis. Quidquid herbarum,\naromat\u012ds, fructuumve condiat cibos, si nec ponderosum sit et conservari\nqueat, id fateor a longinquo non male importari: sed quidquid sit qu\u00f4\nvescar praesertim, hoc omne sub me\u00e2 esse manu oportere credo. Igitur\nagellum vel angulum potius in portu dioscoreis destinaveram, si humum\nidoneam afferre possem. Siccatae carnis paullulum restabat, neque id\njucundum. Lep\u014frem, praeter primum illud a c\u0103ne, non gustaveram; sed\npisces facile capio,--id quod explicandum est. 154. Prim\u00f2 line\u00e2 hamis\ninstruct\u00e2 piscabar, sed hujus vald\u0113 taedebat me. Postea pone cymbam\nparvum verriculum trahebam, quod identidem scrutabar, pluresque h\u00f4c\nmodo pisces capiebam. Mox alia succurrit ratio,--ut ostium port\u016bs\nverriculis trajicerem; idque feci, quamvis difficile erat valida\nferramenta in scopulos illos (_Postes_ quos dixi) infigere. Clavos\nspicatos e ferro optimo postqu\u00e0m satis acui, malleo artillatoris sic\nimpegi, ut angustas rimas inter saxa exsculperem: huc adegi ferramenta,\nquibus retia inn\u012bterentur. 155. Aestus alluebat pisces, quorum aliquot\nsaltem nunquam non relinquebantur in verriculis. Interdum magna vis\ncapiebatur; tunc maritimae aves per retia irruentes meque et praedam\nmeam vexabant. Quoniam \u2e24corticibus sublata\u2e25 natarent verricula, pisces\nattinebantur sub aqu\u00e2, quae profunda erat in ostio. Itaque hoc meum\naestimo esse _vivarium_, unde pisces, quoties velim, non magno labore\ncapio. Magnum mihi laborem attulerant verricula; sed animum meum, de\ncibatu c\u0103nis feliumque anxium, solabantur.\n156. Profecto quando de meis laboribus mecum reputo, illa mihi\ninterdum subit animum contemplatio, anne, si optimus parens, ut erat\ntenerrimus, sic sagax fuisset meaeque intelligens indolis, posset\nforsan me domi apud se ten\u0113re, contentum atque beatum. Nae, si prob\u0113\nme nosset, non in Anglicarum legum studia,--semper arida, jejuna,\nsaepissim\u0113 praepostera,--incumbere me voluisset; sed impigrum ac\nstrenuum aliquod opus, ubi oculus manusque viget, tali commendasset\nfilio. Poteram autem patriae littora vel agrum lati\u00f9s pervagari,\nparentibus non derelictis. Etenim memini, quando eram in Brazili\u00e2,\nquamdiu nova erat opera, mir\u00e2 me vehementi\u00e2 eam semper persecutum\nesse. Nempe ut fortis equus ire vult, sed quorsum aut quare, nescit;\nsic impetu quodam ad agendum instigabar, nullo satis certo actionis\nfine proposito: itaque, rem quampiam assecutus, simul fastidiebam. Nec\nulla profundior causa in funestam illam et sceleratam navigationem\nme propulit, ex qu\u00e2 in exilium tristissimum et laboriosissimum sum\ndetrusus.\nCAPUT (VII.) SEPTIMUM.\n157. De capiendis piscibus memoravi: de coquinandis addo pauca. Octo\ndecemve pisces, vel pauciores si grandes erant, rapido igne leviter\nelixabam, tum pinnas,--id est, tota latera,--capita, caudas, felibus\nmeis reservabam. Magn\u00e2 spin\u00e2 extract\u00e2, ceteram carnem aut super\ncratibul\u00e2 leviter torrebam, aut cum fabis vel grano admiscebam pro\nc\u0103nis cibatu. Equidem in verriculo saepius marina animalia inveniebam,\nqualia nemo pisces nominaverit: porro piscium genus vald\u0113 carnosum,\nquod magni aestimabam, squatinis nostris simillimum. Illud addo: si\nvellem, poteram facillim\u0113 grallatorias aves quae inter cautes aut ipso\nin portu piscabantur, igne dejectas capere: sed carnem piscosam fore\ncredidi, pulveris nitrati dispendio male emptam.\n158. Farin\u00e2 autem elix\u00e2 cum piscibus vescebar prim\u00f2; mox Arabum\nmore assas placentas faciebam. Nempe, combustis super ferre\u00e2 lamin\u00e2\nvel plano saxo lignis, prunas submovebam; placentas udas in calid\u00e2\nsuperficie positas sub patell\u00e2 ferre\u00e2 obtegebam: huic iter\u00f9m\nsuperingerebam prunas. Placentae subt\u00e8r, velut in furno, coquebantur:\nsed fermentare placentas nesciebam. 159. De his hactenus. Ceterum\nde pulcritudine rerum quae domicilium meum cingebant, non eram\nincuriosus. In floribus aut foliis si quid excelleret, pluries\nreportavi aut radicem aut sarmentum, quod defoderem in cavernarum\nvicini\u00e2. Summ\u00e2 in aestate coci nucem, quae su\u00e2 ex arbore deciderat,\nreportavi mecum, plen\u0113 maturam credens; mox ipso in portu meo serendam\ndecrevi. Etenim sic commentabar mecum: \u201csi proper\u0113 in Angliam avehar,\nnunquam me poenitebit hanc sevisse arborem, plurium fortasse parentem,\naliorum hominum domicilium ornaturam: sin h\u00e2c in insul\u00e2 detinear\nultra biennium, gaudebo arbusculam videns surgentem.\u201d Sedulo delegi\nlocum serendi, congessique humum uberrimam; statuo irrigandam esse\ndiligentissim\u0113. 160. Post diem san\u0113 laboriosum, dum sub astris vescor\net bibo, antequam me in aquarum lavacrum committam, miror quamnam\nob rem me tantopere fat\u012bgem. \u201cAnne, O fatue Rebili, nihil tibi esse\noperis putas? Times-ne, ne facil\u00e8 nimis vivens, socordi\u00e2 opprimaris?\u201d\nTum respondeo: (etenim moris mei erat, multa clar\u0113 loqui. N\u012ds\u012d hoc\nfecissem, patriae linguae forem obl\u012btus: imm\u00f2 ipsum mentis acumen\nhebetatum foret. Sed prope omnia mea difficiliora consilia, plen\u00e2\noratione pronunciando, definiebam magis et consummabam.) Itaque\nrespondeo: \u201cCibus, vestis, domicilium, vitam asservant hominis; sed\npulcritudo beatam facit vitam. Ad portum meum adornandum, in honorem\nejus et pulcritudinem, cocum nucem ceterasque res consevi.\u201d Extemplo\netiam clarius, \u201cOh fatue Rebili! (inquam) hominum neutiquam miserrimus\nes tu, qui adornando domicilio das operam.\u201d\n161. Aliam rem, absurdum forsitan, non absurdum erit lectori\ncommunicare. Quarto die postqu\u00e0m cocum insevi, longi\u00f9s durante pluvi\u00e2,\ntempus computabam, invenioque natali matris die me illam sevisse\nnucem. Mox memini, qu\u00e0m incertum sit, vivat-ne mater an mortua sit.\nMir\u0113 tangebar et tener\u00e2 perfundebar memori\u00e2. Tum quia plures noveram\nvel audiveram, qui praesagium mortis alicujus se habuisse crederent,\nhoc mihi ipsi matris mortem ominari videbatur. Etenim jam fassus sum,\nme, simul ac opere cessarem, moestum saepius evasisse fractumque\nanimo. 162. Quando me ineptiarum incuso, respondeo, \u201cfortasse non esse\nineptum.\u201d Nam si restituat me Deus in patriam, tum aut gaudebo vivam\ninveniens matrem, aut rectissim\u0113 praecepero debitam moestitiam. Sin\nnunquam restituar, sed solitarius peream, min\u00f9s sum inhumanus, min\u00f9s\nab omnibus necessitudinibus abruptus, quando caritate praeteritorum\nemollior. Melius autumo, propter ficta humanarum rerum flere, qu\u00e0m\nrebus humanis omnino non tangi, et pro me solo vivere. 163. Quamobrem\nubi nona venit dies, decerno in honorem matris novemdialem praebere\ncoenam. Hospites autem, quos solos potui invitare, erant psittacus,\nc\u0103nis, grex, lep\u014fres, feles, columbi. His optimam, quantum possim, paro\ncoenam. Ceteros facil\u00e8 satio, sed duas capellarum experior avidissimas.\nMagnitudine indies crescebant. Omnes, cibo succulento pastos, sperabam\nmajores pinguioresque qu\u00e0m fera animalia fore, si semper largiter\npraeberem. Etenim velocitatem in capris minim\u0113 cupiebam. Pondus\ncorporis trahulae conveniebat vel lac promittebat uberius; itaque\nlarg\u00e2 manu pascebam libens. In pabulo autem erat gramen merum, frondes\nitem herbae plures delicatae, quas in matris honorem suggesseram. Has\ncunctas comedunt, concupiscuntque etiam. Imber destiterat commod\u0113:\ncenseo igitur finiendam in saltu novemdialem coenam. 164. Qu\u00e0m\ncelerrime annulo lori caprum apparo, ejusque caudae capram adjungo:\nceteros solvo. Falcatum gladium in balteum insero, caprumque ducens\nnotum ascendo tramitem. Illi sequuntur. C\u0103nis in fronte excurrit,\npsittacus humero meo insederat, suo more garriens incontinenter. Feles\n\u2e24mirabundae emigrationem\u2e25 ejulant, tanquam ploratrices (opinabar) ad\nsepulcrum, mox nolebant progredi: cum leporibus domi remanebant. Magnam\nveli laciniam cum funiculis in dorsum capri conjeceram; sic saltum\nattinemus. Haedi alternis pascuntur, ludunt. Sed ego gladio falcato\nherbas frondesque molles, quae sub quotidian\u00e2 pluvi\u00e2 luxuriabant,\nlargiter succ\u012bdo,--alias lacini\u00e2 veli obvolvo, alias mero fune\ncolligo,--super dorso jumentorum apponens. Opportunum erat, qu\u00f2d tunc\nhaec pabula deportavi, nam postea propter pluvias paulo difficilior\nfuit convectio. Ceter\u00f9m animantium hilaritas et mea ipsius excitatio\nmoestitiam mihi dispulit.\n165. Sub longiore pluvi\u00e2 mult\u00f9m ego cum psittaco loquebar; quod\nquidem ab initio feceram. Sed postqu\u00e0m consuetus est nuces atque alios\ncibos e manu me\u00e2 capere, gaudebatque meo adventu, propere discebat\nloqui, et valde me risu alloquioque solabatur. Etenim, ut plurim\u00f9m,\ndocebam eum sic pronunciare: \u201cO fatue Rebili!\u201d sic enim memet appellare\nsolebam. Atqui ille vocabulum \u201cfatue\u201d aut non potuit dicere aut non\nvoluit, meum autem nomen libentissime ac plenissime proferebat. 166.\nAliquando audiebam, O debili Rebili; vel, O febili Rebili; alias, O\nhebili Rebili; quae quidem sic interpretabar, ut essent, O d\u0113bilis, O\nfl\u0113bilis, O habilis! dubitabamque subridens, numne habilis magis an\ndebilis essem. Sed longe saepius meum nomen ipsum iterabat, et quasi\nvariabat amatorie. O Rebili Rebili, inquiebat; t\u00f9m accelerans semper\nsonorum cursum, O Rebi bili, Rebi rebi, Rebi relili, Rebi libili,\nO!--Et quum ego tristi cum misericordi\u00e2 vocabulum O! pronunciarem,\nille me imitans prim\u00f2 tragic\u00e2 severitate dicebat O! sed in fine\ntanqu\u00e0m cavillans deridensque illud O! joculariter efferebat, donec in\ncachinnos solvor.--Neque vinc\u012bre eum opus erat; itaque ligamina detraxi.\n167. Omnium uvidissimus, ut opinor, Junius erat mensis, nunquam tamen\nquinque vel sex horas exsuperabant pluviae. Quodam die post imbrem\nsplendida fuit coeli serenitas cum aur\u00e2 mollissim\u00e2. Interrogavi memet,\nquidnam facere oporteret. St\u0103tim respondi,--\u201cNunc, si vir es, Rebili!\ntestudinem marinam reportabis.\u201d Hoc namque saepe cupiveram, conatus\neram nunquam; sed h\u00e2c in \u2e24claritate s\u014dlis\u2e25 post pluviam, testudines\ncredebam summ\u00e2 in aqu\u00e2 suspensum iri. 168. Cymb\u00e2 expedit\u00e2 progressus\nsum. L\u0101to lenique motu fluctuabat aequor maris, molle, rugosum, et\nquasi oleo perfusum. Fervorem solis aura marina discutiebat: itaque\npergo. Tertium illum attingo s\u012dnum; mox video testudines plurimas,\nsummis in aquis apricantes, fortasse dormitantes. Cautissime\ncircumspicio, et modic\u00e2 del\u0115go[O] magnitudine unam, cujus caput erat\naversum. 169. Lenissimo motu allabor, omnesque caveo strepit\u016bs; dein\npedes testudinis posteriores transversis m\u0103nibus arripiens, dum ad\nproram genibus innitor, uno molimine ac jactu praedam medi\u00e2 in cymb\u00e2\nteneo supinam. Morsus testudinis horrendus est: hunc si cavebis, cetera\nerunt in facili: in dorsum autem conjecta, jacet immobilis. Confestim\nredeo, tam cit\u00f4 successu laetus. Postmod\u00f2 haec praeda majoris mihi erat\nqu\u00e0m putaveram.\n170. Indies mox foedior ingruebat tempestas. Tandem inter nimbos\nnigerrimos prodibant fulgura tremenda, quae frigus maximum incutiebant:\ngrandinis procellae sequebantur. Tonitrua per plures horas erant paene\ncontinua. Mare vehementer furebat; aestus ipsas ad rupes pertigit.\nQuando pluvia paulisper destitit, exeo prospecturus: ecce autem carina\nnavis nostrae decem mensibus post naufragium, ipsis in arenis intra\ncautes projecta. 171. Extra cautes mare montosum erat; intra tam\nperfractum, ut nulla posset esse cymbae utilitas: sed valde brevem esse\nintelligo aquam. Tant\u00e2 sum cupiditate incensus, ut caligis ac braccis\nexutis, mare ingressus navis fragmina scanserim. Summae sane partis non\nmultum restabat: quid remaneret in alveo, volo inquirere. Facile video\net multa inesse et nihil posse me id temporis amoliri: itaque postquam\nsatis exploravi, redeo domum, per aquas praeter rupes necessari\u00f2\nvadens. 172. Sed algebam, crepitabantque dentes mei. Muto vestimenta:\nfrico cutem: sed algeo tamen. Ignem accendo, neque inde multum acquiro\ncaloris. Sensim inv\u0113ni, penit\u00f9s in viscera descendisse frigus, et morbo\nme pertentari. Projectus in cubili, quidquid ibi erat vestimentorum\ncircumvolvor. Nequicquam. Ignarus quid facere oporteat, pavesco ne\nvesper ingruat, tenebris obtegar, inops auxilii consiliique. Tandem\nalgoribus meis nimius fervor succedebat, valde profecto violentus. 173.\nInterdum Maurorum formulam adhibens, in pectore aspiravi: \u201cO Deus!\na te prodivi, ad te redeam!\u201d Quid foret, esse solitarium, tum dem\u00f9m\ncognoveram. Jac\u0113re, stare, s\u0115d\u0113re, cuncta dolebant; flagrabat caput.\nCorporis dolores angor mentis exsuperabat. Tenebras, omnium rerum\nmaxime, metuebam. Surgo, pede titubante incedo, aquam potulentam et\ncitrea m\u0101la quaerens. Os interius plane siccum erat; lingua si buccas,\nsi palatum tangeret, ibi adhaerebat. Quare m\u0101lum citreum in tenuissimas\nquasi assulas conc\u012bdi, quarum unam linguae apposui: alias in poculo\ncompressi, deinde aqu\u00e2 commiscui. Hoc medicamentum sorbillabam,\ninterdum bibebam. Credidi fervori viscerum id fore utile. Alteram\nmox atque alteram super linguam compono assulam citricam, siccitatis\nlevamentum. Jam nox adveniebat, recordorque animalia non esse pasta.\nFeles vehementer ejulabant. Neque potui eas abigere, neque, dum fervor\ncapitis instat, sufficiunt mihi vires ad ministrandum.\n174. Tandem in sudorem solvor: post horas dolentissimas mens se\naliquantum recuperat. Spisso obvolutus pallio, cibatum praebeo\nfelibus, leporibus, capris, c\u0103ni, quanquam debilis toto corpore. Jam\ncertum habeo, qualis sit febris hujus natura; felicemque me judico,\nquod lux in tantum duraverit. Mente levatus, plurimisque vestibus\nopertus, somnum capto; sed quando dorm\u012bto paulisper, morbida me terrent\ninsomnia, prav\u00e2 religione plena. Sane pluribus horis ante lucem ipse\nsudor cessat; tum, quamvis defessus, laborios\u00e8 cutem perfrico, et\nquidquid e vestimentis maxime sit villosum, libens amplector: ligna\nin culin\u00e2 accendo. De remedio morbi tum meditor. Dixi me cinchonam\ne valle apportasse, atque in usum corii adhibuisse. Bonam hinc esse\nmedicinam noveram; nunc ver\u00f2 contra amaritudinem ejus firmans mentem,\naqu\u00e2 commixtam l\u012bb\u0115re poto. Nec dubito quin me sagaciter curaverim;\nnam febris non rediit. M\u0101n\u0115 autem e cubili surgens, cogito quid postea\nfaciendum.\n175. Imprimis statuo: si possim, noctem insequentem non sine lumine me\nacturum. Aut candelas aut lucernam aliquam judico necessariam. Nihil\nfacilius videbatur, qu\u00e0m Maurorum ritu rem conficere, si aut oleum\naut sebum haberem. Sed quicquid fuit, id omne credidi consumtum esse,\naut in cibatu canis aut in scaph\u00e2 resarciend\u00e2, sive in retinaculis\njumentorum vel in serr\u00e2. Tum testudinis reminiscor: hujus adipem\nvolo adhibere. Item carnem ejus, ut novum quiddam, pro cibo st\u0103tim\nconcupisco. De mactand\u00e2, fateor, haesitabam; nam tale feceram nihil.\nCaput testudinis si amputabitur, tamen (aiunt) post viginti quatuor\nhoras mordebit tenacissime. Quid ergo occ\u012bdet eam? Ego ver\u00f2 opinor,\namputato capite, nihil doloris sensurum corpus. Igitur ipso in dolio,\nubi in aqu\u00e2 marin\u00e2 servabatur, amputo caput: hoc caute forcipe abjicio:\ncetera conc\u012bdo et plurima intus ova invenio. Horum quatuor protinus\ntorreo, vescorque cum placent\u00e2. Maximam vim adipis excipio. Partem\nhujus (eam fere quae solidior erat) pro placentis assandis vel pro\nsartagine reservavi: longe plurimam pro oleo sumsi. Tum de linamentis\ncogito. 176. Feliciter acc\u012ddit, qu\u00f2d huic rei non opus est viribus:\nlinamenta contorquere, puellarum potest esse opera. Veterum funium\nquidquid esset corruptum, pro stupp\u00e2 reposueram. Inde duabus horis\nlinamenta confeci, quot triginta noctibus facil\u00e8 sufficerent. In ferre\u00e2\npatell\u00e2 depono adipem ac linamentum sic circumtortum, ut finis hujus\nsuper labro patellae minimum tant\u00f9m dependat. Ipsum linamentum liquid\u00e2\nadipe saturatum accendo, experiorque rem bene procedere. Equidem si\ndormirem, nemine linamentum subinde extrahente, p\u00f2st paul\u00f2 extinctum\nforet: attamen id parum r\u0113ferre censeo; nam per igniaria possem\naccendere, ut prim\u00f9m evigilarem. Postea juvat me invenisse, talem\nfebrem posse subigi.\n177. Post triduum finitae sunt pluviae, et sol processit clarissimus.\nEgo quoque prodeo, tepore gaudens. Inviso littus. Video doliis stratum,\ncadis, arcis perfractis, lignis omnis formae et ferramentis. Paene in\nsicco erat ipse navis alveus, cum ancor\u00e2 atque ancorali. Cuncta jam\npro meis destino, sed volo relaxari paulisper; etenim min\u00f9s firmum\nme sensi: igitur ab his redeo in portum. 178. Feles video, utramque\ncum catulis rec\u00e8ns natis. Tum me subit: \u201cAh! illud erat, quare ade\u00f2\nejulavere; non tanquam funeris ploratrices, sed ut expostularent\ncatulorum alimenta.\u201d Bonis matribus collaudatis, praetereo. Jamque\nrecordor, feram felem primo illo die esse a me visam; de quo postea\naliquoties dubitaveram. Agnosco, aut in saltu aut in silv\u00e2 magn\u00e2\ntales inveniri bestias. 179. Gregem deambulans assequor. Haedos\nomnes grandescere ac pinguescere notaveram; jamque video juniores\ncapellas spem prolis dare. Inviso lep\u014fres: en autem, lepus femina\nlepusculos ediderat. Non ridere non poteram: imm\u00f2 cachinnavi. Sic autem\ninterpretatus sum: Teneram progeniem male nasci ante finitas pluvias:\nquare sic esse a Natur\u00e2 comparatum, ut qu\u00e0m proxime poste\u00e0 nascerentur.\n180. Lectori denunciandum est, inde ab ill\u00e2 febre pictatis me conscium\nnovae factum. Re non prors\u00f9s nova erat; nam inde ab ipso naufragio\nquasi fermentatio mentis coepta est. Tum prim\u00f9m didici, quanti\nesset humana caritas, qu\u00e0m jucundus ipse aspectus hominis. Mox erg\u0101\nipsa animalia emolliebar, quorum caritatem pluris qu\u00e0m utilitates\naestimabam. Deinde intellexi, qu\u00e0m ingens esset inter generosissimum\nbrutorum atque infimum hominem discrimen: etenim quemvis e servis\nmeis Brazilicis loco c\u0103nis optimi vehementissime amplexus forem. 181.\nJam poenitebat me de parentibus: neminem praeter memet culpabam.\nErg\u0101 hos reverentia, erg\u0101 omnes impet\u016ds quidam amoris ac desiderii\nme exercebat: itaque, ut opinor, ad rectam religionem eram maturus.\nEtenim dixit nescio quis: \u201cQui inferiora bene amat, hic superiorem\nbene venerabitur.\u201d Attamen ante hanc febrem ipse Deus ignotus qu\u012bdam\nac nimius videbatur mihi; quem qu\u012ddem diligere, praeter naturam esse\ncensebam. Nec his de rebus singillatim juvat explicare. Quippe neque\nego ab aliis neque ceteri a me eam religionem ediscent, quae pect\u014fris\nest, non merae mentis. 182. Sed ips\u00e2 in febre, quando tranquille Deo\nme commisi, intellexi prim\u00f9m, qu\u00e0m non longinquus esset Deus; imm\u00f2,\nipso illo in loco adesse illum, si uspiam alibi. Exinde profundior de\nreligione me invadebat cogitatio; neque cogitatio sol\u00f9m, sed cordis\nqu\u012bdam motus, qui me tunc prim\u00f9m ad sacram lectionem instigabat.\n183. E quatuor meis libris, unum dixi esse precum Lusitanarum secundum\nformas Papales. Idcirco spreveram. Nunc autem legens, plures invenio\nversiculos e Juda\u00efcis et Cristianis l\u012dbris, qui cunctorum sunt, non\nPapistarum mod\u00f2. Duo me praesertim commovebant. \u201cQuem diligit Dominus\nDeus, hunc castigat, per virgarum disciplinam erudiens filios.\u201d Item.\n\u201cQuare homo, qui vescitur aur\u00e2, de poenis delictorum conqueratur?\nnae, prodest in juvent\u00e2 sustinere jugum.\u201d 184. Tali lectione\naffectum, preces \u00e9t verae et vehementes sancto me gaudio tum prim\u00f9m\npertentarunt. Porr\u00f2 hinc repperi, unde solitariae vitae derivarem\nsolatia. Inquietissimus sane interdum eram, pertaesus solitudinis et\nsuspirans ad alloquium; attamen tria tandem plene didici:--constantius\nea quae animo, qu\u00e0m ea quae oculo percipiuntur, perm\u0103nere:--Deum non\nmin\u00f9s mihi esse praesentem, qu\u00f2d abessent homines:--denique, Ut ex h\u00f4c\ntaedio me potuit eripere, sic in eodem posse illum \u2e24purgato mihi animo\u2e25\npleniorem dare liberationem.--Sed haec pedetentim et plures per menses.\nQuippe vera religio vita est, non disceptatio ingeniosa, nec nisi mult\u00e2\npect\u014fris exercitatione ipsarumque rerum experienti\u00e2 percipitur.\nCAPUT (VIII.) OCTAVUM.\n185. De grege erat quod me male habebat. Capri maximi quanquam labrum\nperfoderam, tamen expertus sum aliquando ferociter eum cornibus petere;\nidque periculosum esse sensi, quando ad trahulam eum vellem ligare. Re\nperpens\u00e2, ne mihi aliquando sit infestus, cornuum ejus maximam partem\nserr\u00e2 amputo. Relinquo tantum, quantum helciis sustentandis sit opus.\nExinde gnarus deminutarum virium, tranquillior factus est. 186. Ne\nposth\u00e0c obliviscar, h\u00eec libet narrare, quidnam cornibus ejus fecerim.\nSolidiora erant, qu\u00e0m caprarum quae asservaveram: jam arcum terebrandi\ngrati\u00e2 conficere statuo. Saxum quoties vellem perforare, nihil e me\u00e2\nsupellectile placebat. Erat mihi terebra,[P] erat caestrum[Q] fabrile,\nutrumque tenue nimis; non nisi ligno vel cornui terebrando idoneum.\nAd saxum terebrandum clavis spicatis utebar multo cum labore; nunc\narcum ritu Maurorum libet adhibere. 187. Imprimis e velorum funiumque\ntrochleolis unam del\u0113gi bonam, perfecto orbe, cujus in medio quadratum\nerat foramen. Ferreolum item del\u0115go; (multa in littore talia tunc\njacebant) quae illud foramen tant\u00f9m[R] non intret. Hujus unum finem\nigne mollitum valde tundo, ut sit et solidior et paene acutus: alterum\nfinem in teretius concinno. Mox lim\u00e2 h\u00eec atque h\u00eec detritam, in foramen\ntrochleolae impingo. Acutiorem finem mol\u00e2 quoque exacuo: sic ipsam\nterebram perfeci. 188. Arcus restat. Anquisito robore solido, unum\nfragmentum circumc\u012bdo serr\u00e2; dein duo foramina paul\u00f2 obliqua terebro,\nquorum in utrumque inferciatur cornu infimum. Spatium inter haec\nrelinquo, velut manubrium, quod firmiter possim prehendere: duobus\nlaminis ferreis ac fune robusto confirmo juncturam: Cacumina cornuum\nlaxo nervo connectuntur: hic est arcus. 189. Nervus, trochleolae\nconvolutus transversusque, fit tensus: tum arcus, citr\u00f2 ultr\u00f2que\ntractus, terebram rotat. Porr\u00f2 in angust\u00e2 assi foramen facio, quod\nalter terebrae finis facile intret. Assim hunc in dextr\u00e2 tenens, dirigo\nterebram, dum sinistr\u00e2 arcu operor. Simplici h\u00f4c apparatu saxa dehinc\nlonge facilius terebro.\n190. Vereor ne taedio sim lectori, si plurima quae elaboravi accurat\u00e8\nexplicem. Nova atque ampla materies e ferro lignoque, quam cum\nreliquiis navis nostrae nactus eram, nov\u00e2 me implet ambitione: item\nauctus grex vim novam trahendi offert. Idcirco, plurima convehenda\ndestinans, majorem volo construere traham, tam latam, ut aequ\u00e2 fronte\njumenta trahant tria, meque ipsum, quoties velim, habenas retinentem,\nvehant. Quidquid ligno ferrove conficiendum erat, confeci; sed corium\nd\u00eberat. 191. Pelles si haberem, nec depsendi eram peritus, nec libens\npropter pelles capros occ\u012bderem. Tantum animal, tam plenum sanguine,\nmactare, avehere, conc\u012bdere, nauseam mihi movebat. Sed e fruticibus\nmaritimis unum repperi, cujus folia funiculis comparaverim. Haec in\nsole siccata, mox oleo tincta, leviter contorsi, tum ex connexis\nrobustiores struxi funes. Inde materiem habebam, e qu\u00e2 habenas,\nretinacula, etiam helcia atque alias res jumentis utiles conficio. His\nsi non optime instruebar, meis tamen usibus fu\u0113re idonei.\n193. Vix opus est dicere qu\u00e0m curios\u00e8 omnia ferramenta ex littore\ncollegerim; nihil equidem sprevi e lignis, doliis, arcis, fracta an\nsolida essent. Majora quaedam ligna, multo molimine surs\u00f9m tracta ipsis\nin caloribus, pro ponte destino, per quem traha mea aquulam e saltu\ntram\u00ebet. Cratibus superjactis et fiscorum frustis, cum tabulis et humo,\nviam tandem consolidavi. 194. Alteram quoque viam sub rupibus credo\nnecessariam, ne aestu maris interrumpatur trahae commeatus. _Torno_\nmeo (id est, nov\u00e2 terebr\u00e2) saxa cavo, nitrato pulvere discutienda; et\n\u2e24min\u00f9s laborios\u00e8 qu\u00e0m expectaveram\u2e25 objices amoveo viae. Profecto hanc\nviam facili\u00f9s confeci, qu\u00e0m ponticulum illum, qui quidem non magno\npoterat esse usui, donec tramitem super rubr\u00e2 rupe feceram trahae\npervium. Omnium meorum operum hoc vires meas unice exhausit, praesertim\nquia aurae tum maxime stagnabant. Sed protinus magna habui adjumenta\nfrugibus vel fructibus deportandis, sive ab hortis meis sive a convalle.\n195. Quinto die ante Kalendas Sextiles, caprae duae partum ediderunt,\nunaquaeque binam progeniem. Prim\u00f2 lac mihimet avebam, conorque mulg\u0113re.\nHuic rei inhabilis fui, reputansque declino mulgendi labores, ne ego\npoti\u00f9s pecori qu\u00e0m pecus mihi inserviat; nam si mulgendi negligens\nforem, id pecori foret crudele, mox lactis cohiberet profluvium.\nTum in delicatiores cibos lac adhibere, longe nimii temporis erat\net curae. Spero me cocis nucibus cito abundaturum, atque harum lac\nsemper fore in promtu. His autem de nucibus sunt quaedam explicanda,\nquae praetermiseram. 196. Nolueram barbarorum more proceras arbores\nscandere; id quod \u00e9t laboriosum fore et periculosissimum credidi.\nNovas scalas hanc ad rem, duobus ante\u00e0 mensibus, et propriam falculam\ncommentatus sum. Et quidem pro falcul\u00e2, \u2e24perticae longae in fine\u2e25\nloculum inc\u012bdo, ubi inhaereat ansa cultri coquinaris: tum \u2e24funiculo\ncer\u00e2 obl\u012dto\u2e25 (nam massam quandam cerae habebam) ansam illam perticamque\ncircumvolutam firmiter constrinxi. Atqui modica firmitudo poterat\nsufficere; nam acuto cultro leviter amputantur nuces.--Pro scalis\nipso in cocorum sinu par idoneum arb\u014frum succ\u012bdo, triginta fere pedes\nlongarum, postquam capita detraxi. Utramque dedolatam \u2e24quant\u00f9m possim\nsine detrimento roboris\u2e25 extenuo, ut qu\u00e0m levissimae sint scalae.\nSane erant cavae, (medull\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam plenae,) idcirco robustiores, qu\u00e0m\nsi ejusdem fuissent ponderis et longitudinis, sed solidae. Gradus\nscalarum addo, e lignis atque e fune, ut in cubicularibus meis: sed\ntres in summo funes valde laxos relinquo, ut scalae applicatae quasi\namplectantur arborem, nec possint delabi. Tali instrumento adjutus,\ncredidi posse me amplam nucum vim decerpere, quanquam plurimae coci\n\u2e24longe proceriores\u2e25 macacis opulentam reservabant praedam. Haec,\ncredo, in Maio mense finita sunt. 197. Equidem coeorum utilitates\npar\u00f9m intelligebam; sed plurimas esse gnarus, nihil rejeceram. Frondes\npennasve (si ita licet dicere) parvae illius coci, quam pro remis\nsucc\u012bdi, animadverti paene tegulorum[S] esse instar. Has funiculis\nita consu\u00ebram, ut cuculli[T] vicem optime gesserint. Medullam cocorum\narborum atque aliarum palmarum statuo explorandam: corticem omnem\nasservo.\n198. Grex, (quem propter sanitatem maturi\u00f9s in saltum transduxi,)\nevulsis s\u014flo pedicis, in vallem rediit. Cunctos invenio circa vetus\npraesepe, herbas \u2e24uberrimas atque apprime succulentas\u2e25 summo cum\ngustatu rodentes. Pedicas detraxi, ipsas animantes reputans a Natur\u00e2\nmeli\u00f9s qu\u00e0m a me edoceri, ubinam potissim\u00f9m deg\u0115re oporteret. Quoniam\ncic\u016dres invenio sibiloque fistulae obedientes, id mihi sufficit.\nSuccurrit animo, quant\u00f9m roboris amiserint vaccae nostrates domesticae,\nqu\u00e0m saepe difficili partu torqueantur, per nostram importunam\ncurationem. Vereor ne meum gregem immutem, si stulte ego me immisceam.\n199. Seri\u00f9s, quum aurae stagnarent calorque ingrueret, non ad saltum\nperrexere, sed ad apertum ac summum collem; fortasse quia cul\u012dces\nvel oestri urgebant. Multo m\u0101n\u0115 (credo) pascebantur, ante lucem;\nposte\u00e0 auram captantes mir\u00e8 apricabantur summo in colle, ibidem\ndormientes. 200. Ego qu\u014fque in stagnante aur\u00e2 pertaesus cavernarum,\npostquam aliquot noctes iterum inter ramos arb\u014fris dormiveram, melius\nfore credo, si gregem sequar. Quare mult\u00e2 ac difficili machinatione\ntres ass\u0115res longissimos summo in colle sic erexi, ut de colligatis\ncapitibus lectus pensilis sustineretur. Ego per funem ascendo, qui\ndesuper fluitans quasi in annulos nodatur, in quos ingredior. Ut prim\u00f9m\nlectulum attingerem, funem illum ad me recipiebam. Talis erat n\u014fvi\ncubilis forma.\n201. Haec inter opera, ex novo quodam junco contexui dorsualem illam,\nde qu\u00e2 dixi, tegetem; item foliis roscidis tum primum caput meum sub\ninful\u00e2 condo. Etenim nimius erat fervor solis; quanquam calor non\nadeo suffocabat quant\u00f9m metueram. Ill\u00e2 in regione ipsius aestatis nox\nlongiuscula est, flabatque identidem sicc\u00e2 in tempestate vespertinus\nturbo venti, qui a\u00ebra refrigerabat; necnon qu\u00e2vis in nocte aura quaedam\nmontana superioribus in locis sentiebatur. 202. Maris temperiem sensim\naugescere credebam; ego autem magis magisque lavacris captabam frigus.\nSi caput ac dorsum a sole defendas, alio tegmine vix opus est, nisi\npropter culices; ego ver\u00f2, tenuissime amictus, posse videbar multum\nlaboris vel summ\u00e2 in aestate perferre.\n203. Finito quod maxime urgeret, paro humum optimam ab ostio fluminis\nad portum transvehere, in qua dioscoreae serantur. Locum delegi, quem\npossem ex rivulo \u2e24quoties vellem\u2e25 irrigare. Hunc ad usum ligna aliquot\nsic cavavi, ut compluvii[U] instar essent. Robustissimas meas tabulas\nad traham curati\u00f9s constrinxi, ut humus ingesta ne efflueret. Duobus\njumentis biduum conveho humum: traha sub rupibus in plano currit: cava\nloca impleo; quidquid fimi uspiam rejectum est, comporto, opperiorque\ntempus dioscore\u012bs ipsis plautandis.\n204. Multum fruebar lectulo pensili. Sub astris jucundum erat frigus,\naliquando tamen nimium. Nox decem horas durabat, ac sine crepusculo.\nTot horas dormire non possum, frigesco interdum sub nudo aethere.\nGregem comperio pasci tres vel quatuor horas ante solem, dormire post\nmeridiem: credo me, iterum animalia imitantem, sequi Naturam ducem.\nAnte solem exortum iis rebus operor, quibus lux est min\u00f9s necessaria:\ninter has vescendi operam numero atque incedendi sive ad cavernas\nsive ad vallem. Sed unusquisque dies suum habuit colorem suumque\nopus. 205. Jam credo advenisse tempus fruct\u00fbs colligendi. Uvas in\nhortis invenio multis in locis jam maturas. Aliquot gustatis, magnam\nvim decerptam resticulis suspendo, ut sole arescant. Multos per dies\nh\u00fbc commeans idem facio, pluresque fruct\u016bs trah\u00e2 reporto. 206. Tum\n_ricinum_ invenio fruticem, e qu\u00e2 oleum illud quod \u201ccastoreum\u201d vulgo\nappellant, conficitur. Multo cum gaudio _maniocam_ invenio, ex qu\u00e2\nconficitur _cassava_ panis. Hanc in Brazili\u00e2 noveram: inde etiam\nexcoquitur _Tapioca_ Anglorum. Porro _banana_ vel _musa_ his in\nlocis nascebatur, infra autem nanas quasdam palmas dactyliferas esse\ncomperio. 207. Alio die optimum repperi in _mang\u00e2_ arbore terebinthum,\ncredidique me hinc satis habere posse, tum stuppae, tum terebinthi\naut r\u0113s\u012bnae. Plures fructus colligo vix exorto sole, postquam ante\nlucem ad hortos pedibus incessi. Si quando \u2e24fabrilem propter operam\u2e25\nvalid\u00e2 nervorum exercitatione opus sit, id aut ante solem perficio,\naut sub stellis lunaeve luce, taedis aliquando adjutus. 208. Jam paulo\naudentior factus, canem habens comitem,--si usus veniret, sub arbore\ndormiebam horis meridianis. E sopore experrectus, apparo traham, jungo\njumenta, ipse vehor in trah\u00e2, hortos pomeridiano tempore inviso. Tum\nfructus ingero, jumentis ad pascendum solutis. Si nimis vagentur, c\u0103nis\nreducit. Dem\u00f9m junctis iterum ad traham, descendo cum onere pretioso.\nNova mox ingruit difficultas, quum non sufficerent arcae protegendis\nthesauris.\n209. Tamen neutiquam satiata est mea cupiditas. Ad cocos nuces\ndemetendas falculam illam mecum apportavi; scalas novas ipsis in\nhortis relinquebam. Dum autem infra incedo, _ananassas_ video multas,\n(_m\u0101la p\u012bnea_ vulgo nos vocamus): nunquam ego ante\u00e0 has animadverti.\nJam intelligo et plurimas esse et maximas, paene ex arenis cum cactis\nnascentes. Unam illic\u00f2 vindemiavi, nec abstinui quin grande frustum\ncomederim. 210. Mox nucem cocorum \u2e24ab humo sumtam\u2e25 perforando experior\nnum sicca sit. Paulum lactis exsugo,--dulce, spissum, non copiosum.\nPlures harum colligo reservoque seorsim. Tum applicatis scalis,\nquicquid nucum videbatur maximum, id decerpo, duosque facio acervos.\nPropere domum redeo cum ananass\u00e2 ill\u00e2 ac falcul\u00e2, et, paulum recreatus,\nin cymb\u00e2 regredi ad hortos volo. Attamen statum aest\u00fbs quum video, et\npromontoria quae essent superanda, id ver\u00f2 non ausus sum. 211. Tum\nsubit cogitatio, quanto meli\u00f9s foret, si scaph\u00e2 possem reportare; tanta\nerat copia, tanta varietas fructuum oculos et mentem captantium. Bis\ntrah\u00e2 hortos invisere uno in die facinus erat magnum: quantum trah\u00e2\npossem reportare, quinquies id scapha portaret. Post auroram, credo,\nlenis aura favebit: maris \u2e24plures per dies\u2e25 aequor fuerat undis expers.\n212. Jam dactylos, bananas, cocos nuces, ananassas, uvas, ad libitum\nme habiturum spero: nimia me spes et nimia cupiditas festinavit.\nCrastino die \u2e24leni aurae\u2e25 vela scaphae permisi; illa per vitream oceani\nsuperficiem clementissimo motu delabitur; mox ultra promontorium paul\u00f2\nvelocius devehor. Dem\u00f9m laetus ipsum attingo ostium, et detracto velo,\nremis ingredior rivum. 213. Multa avidis oculis lustravi: quae acervata\nerant, assumsi: plurima alia abripui. Sine mor\u00e2 impono omnia scaphae,\net reciprocum iter conor. Tum vero fortuna se vertit. Stagnante aur\u00e2,\nvelum inutile erat. Remis incumbo, sed tardiuscule moveor. Nervis\ncontentis, defatigo memet, aestuos\u00e2 in hor\u00e2. Tellurem observans, dubito\nanne progrediar, maxim\u00e2 me\u00e2 vi. Cohorreo, ne h\u00e2c in parte profluens sit\nmaris, quae me in ignotas aquas rapiat. Uni homini certe nimia erat,\nnisi vento marique favente, hujus scaphae moderatio. Igitur deficior\nfortitudine, et reflecto scapham in palmetum, qu\u00f2 tandem pervenisse\ngaudeo, valde defessus. 214. Ego ver\u00f2 angor animi, quo pacto reduci\npossit scapha. Re amplius perpens\u00e2, credo nunquam me ausurum eam mari\ncommittere iter\u00f9m. Tunc moestissime solitudinem meam conqu\u0115rens,\noptabam ut iter\u00f9m puer ille Maurus, qu\u00f4cum ex Mauritani\u00e2 aufugi, socius\nmihi navalis foret. Sed protinus me conscientia objurgat, qu\u00f2d propter\nservitutem ejus, fortasse necessariam, ego nummos acceperim: itaque\ningemens, os in m\u0103nibus recondidi. 215. Exinde tanquam in somniis\nhilarem audivi vocem, Rebili bebile libi bili O! psittacus autem in\nhumero meo considebat. Is quidem rostro ac capitis plum\u00e2 genas meas\ndemulcebat, ac voces profundebat carissimas. Sane tangebar. Quia sine\ncomite meo processeram, ille ad hortos \u2e24me anquirens\u2e25 avolaverat.\nVolasse eum, minus accurat\u00e8 dixi; quippe manc\u00e2 etiamnum penn\u00e2, inter\nvolatum atque obliquum saltum procedebat. 216. Tum replet\u00e2 fiscell\u00e2,\nexperior quantum possim humeris sufferre incedens. Modicum bananarum\net dactylorum onus assumo: vescor quantum libet, bibo e rivulo, et,\nrelict\u00e2 scaph\u00e2, ascendo vallem. Pedibus jam siccis, (nam aqu\u00e2 marin\u00e2\nimmersi erant) sub umbr\u00e2 citri per fervores maximos recondor, dormioque\npaullum; dem\u00f9m notum per tramitem evado, moestusque assequor cavernas.\n217. Ex quant\u00e2 calamitate quam angusto discrimine effugissem, per\nmeam tempestatum imperitiam, prorsus nesciebam: nam, triduo p\u00f2st,\nturbo furiosus ventorum totum coelum pervertit cietque intimum\nmare. In cavernis libens me recondo. Tum memini Kalendas Septembres\nimmin\u0113re, quo in die navis fracta est. Anno superiore egenus eram,\ninops, spe destitutus: nunc opum multarum sum dominus et praeclaro\nfruor procellarum profugio. Equidem libris legendis et calami usu peto\nvarietatem negotii. Quae feci, non libet h\u00eec accuratius narrare; sed\nlibro illo mathematico adjutus, dedi operam ut fundamenta rationesque\nmathematicas solidius probarem. 218. Ut prim\u00f9m credo saevas praeter\u00eesse\nprocellas, decerno in domesticum hortum incumbere. Dioscoreas circa\nquinquaginta praeparaveram, radicibus circumcisis: item septemdecim\nmaniocas tractaveram pariter: has omnes in trah\u00e2 reportatas rite\nconsevi: mox humum de novo \u2e24a fluminis ostio convectam\u2e25 addidi, quia\nde manioc\u00e2 prius non cogitaveram. 219. Macacos vidi fructibus meis\ninsidiari, item \u2e24nescio quae insecta\u2e25 aliquot horum corruperat.\nNolo de cibariis anxius esse: alia multa opera curam viresque meas\navocant. Credo, quantum sine nimio labore possim convehere, tantum\nconvehendum; nam nescio utrum, seu robigine seu insectis sive avibus\naut macacis, maxima pars rerum coacervatarum sit peritura. Itaque res\nedules avide reposui; porro alias res, ut ricinum,--e quo facilius\noleum extruxi propter fabriles us\u016bs quam ex ali\u00e2 qu\u00e2piam re. 220.\nSed arcae loculique ad res asservandas non sufficiebant. Quidquid\nhabebam ollarum aut lagenarum, adhibui ananassis, persicis m\u0101lis\naliisque fructibus conservandis. Ahenum maximum oleo ricini spurcum\nerat; nam quanquam aren\u00e2 emundaveram, manebat quidam odor et nauseam\ncreabat. Nova vasa fingere volebam, immo magna, quae ut apud Mauros,\ndoliorum vicem sustinerent. 221. Prima mea experimenta valde rudia\nerant. De form\u00e2 incuriosus, argillam sole siccare et concoquere\nconor, si massam aliquam possim satis consolidare. L\u0101teres potius\nquam ollas conficiebam: cito autem agnovi, rem h\u00e2c vi\u00e2 non procedere.\nCoctis l\u0101teribus sine dubio erat opus, ad furnum constituendum; dein\nigne, non sole, coctos l\u0101teres velim. 222. Herbas in sole siccatas\npro stramine crudis l\u0101teribus intertexo, argill\u00e2 primo subact\u00e2: sic\nfacio struem. Stipites virides cum sicco ligno mistos interpono atque\ncompono: mox subjicio ignem. Materie renovat\u00e2 lentum calorem per totum\ndiem sustento: postero die (quoniam non videbatur ignis sufficere)\nviolentius incendo: jamque l\u0101teres bene cocti erant et solidi. Mero\nluto et lateribus illis (sine gypso, quod ex rupe calcari\u00e2 potuissem\ncomburendo conficere) furnum construxi. 223. Omitto narrare, quo pacto\nin experimentum prim\u00f2 fecerim ollas. Ceterum explorato, posse me\nplumbo liquefacto vitream quondam faciem superponere, id quod propter\nmunditiam concupivi, optimum credidi, qu\u00e0m maxime quadrata fingere\ningentia vasa; quoniam haec forma omnium esset facillima. Plura horum,\nfateor, praeter aciem rimas \u0113g\u0113runt; sed res solidas, non liquidas,\nrecondebam; itaque meis usibus aliquatenus serviebant.\n224. Ceter\u00f9m ut telorum artem probe exercerem, intimo in portu\nclipeum quendam ingentem, velut metam scopumve, erexi. Compages erat\nex assulis: velorum praetensis laciniis, in medio (pro _taurino_, quem\nvocant, oculo) pullum lanam affixi. Unamquamque ignipultarum su\u00e2 in\nvice exercebam, aliquando majoribus glandibus, aliquando aut olorinis\naut minimis: sed plumbum omne diligenter recollegi, quantum poteram:\nspatia quoque sedulo notavi, ut in collineando peritior fierem. Nisi\nme aliquo modo aut exercerem aut oblectarem, moestitia me incessit;\netenim non jam laboribus fatigabar. 225. Sed multus eram tunc temporis\nin coquendo et condiendo, ne fructus perirent plures. Ollas Europaeas\naliquot habebam, sed operculis egebam, quae a\u00ebra excluderent. E\n_mangis_ r\u0113s\u012bnam quandam elicui, qu\u00e2 velut pice oblinerem velorum\nlacinias. Hae, operculis circumdatae, satis bene concludebant ollas;\nat r\u0113s\u012bnam de novo superlevi. 226. Obl\u012btus sum quaedam de ejectamentis\nmaris narrare. Uno in dolio plura inv\u0113ni ornamenta, praesertim specilla\nac vitreas bullas. Specillorum orae detrimentum tulerunt; sed bullae\nerant incolumes. Tria item fascicula inv\u0113ni, discolorum vestium plena.\nPostquam aperui, sub umbr\u00e2 exponendas decerno. Non integra fuit colorum\npulcritudo, necnon plures vestium quasi rigescebant. Omnes in cavernis\nreposui, si forte posth\u00e0c utiles fierent. Bullas autem plurimas,\nresticulis, sive filis conjunctos, super jumentorum cervicibus ornandi\ncaus\u00e2 suspendi.\nCAPUT (IX.) NONUM.\n227. Tales inter curas exercebar, quando nova res me vehementer\nexcitavit, Octobri mense. Quodam mane, dum eram in culin\u00e2, mare vers\u00f9s\naspiciens, repente video navigium, nigris hominibus plenum, quod\nad portum meum videbatur tendere. Haesito exanimis, neque audeo in\narmamentarium excurrere, ne cernar; metuoque ne animadvertant aut retia\nmea aut tramitem. Appellunt sub coerule\u00e2 rupe, extrahuntque captivum,\ncui brachia post tergum erant retorta. Dum obstupesco contemplans,\nsubit\u00f2 in navigium redeunt cum captivo et remigantes abeunt. Extempl\u00f2\nalterum video navigium, quod promontorium coeruleae rupis studet\nexsuperare: jam intelligo priores e\u00f2dem tendere, ne a sociis suis\ndividerentur. 228. Ut prim\u00f9m evanuere, surgo. Ignipultam corripio\nbitubam, quae Helvetici militis fuerat; qu\u00e2 quidem h\u00e2c in insul\u00e2\nnunquam usus eram, praeterquam in exercitando, quoties in clipeum\ncollinearem. Quum paul\u00f2 gravior esset, furcam quandam pro fulcro\nadhibebam: qu\u00e2 in terram defix\u00e2, multo certi\u00f9s jaculabar. Utrumque\ntubum nunc diligenter suffarcio, hunc magn\u00e2 glande, illum olorinis;\nitem par pistolarum. Vescor parce; placentam in sinu vestis recondo.\nAccinctus balteo, gladium sumo, pistolas, bitubam su\u00e2 cum furc\u00e2, item\nprospeculum, quod de collo suspensum gerebam funiculo crassiore,\nquia loris delicatis deficiebar. Perulam quoque capio, pulveris ac\npilulorum repositorium. Tum aliquoties ad Numen Supremum vota vel\npreces attollens, egredior prospecturus. Canem abegi, qui me comitari\nvoluit. 229. Ad speculam meam quant\u00e2 poteram celeritate ascendo. Inde\nvideo circiter viginti quinque viros cum duobus captivis. Ignem jam\naccenderant: mox unum e captivis nudum in aren\u00e2 extendunt, caput clav\u00e2\nobterunt, et confestim membra discerpunt. Cultros non clare dispexi,\nsed (quod horrorem simul ac nauseam mihi m\u014dvit) torrefactis membris\nvescuntur. Dum facinus exsecro, credo licere mihi, si possim, omnes\ntrucidare, qui hospitium insulae meae tam foede violent. Ego autem\nconsedi immotus et tanquam fascinatus.\n230. Repente alium video captivum praeter oram maris fug\u0115re: hunc\nquinque persequunter summo ardore. Ille, colles vers\u00f9s tendens, pone\nrupem evanescit. Tum exsurgens curro, cavens tamen ne exanimis fiam;\ntandem iterum fugitivum discerno. Viam Lunatam ascendit; pone tres viri\nsectantur, quorum primus clavam habuit bellicam. Duo illi sagittas.\nFugitivum credo a primo secutore velocitate superari, tantummodo\npraeoccupasse cursum. Ego in foss\u00e0 qu\u00e2dam lateo, defigoque furcam in\ns\u014flo. 231. Intelligo fugitivum non posse evadere: etenim anhelabat\ngraviter. A primo secutore prehensus, ab illis necabitur; sed opperior\ndum prope veniant. Tranquillissime collineo, dein olorinis pilulis\njaculor. Illic\u00f2 prostratus cadit primus secutor. Saltat metu fugitivus,\nfragorem audiens, sed nescit prim\u00f2 quid acciderit. Mox capite inflexo\nrespiciens, vidit hostem dejectum: tum ipse quoque subsistit, animam\nrecipiens. Secundus adhuc currit: jam sagitt\u00e2 arcui applicat\u00e2 parat\ntransfigere fugitivum. Id me iterum accendit, nec tamen occ\u012bdere eum\nvolo. Glande majore ex altero tubo crura ejus peto, affligoque actutum.\nQui tertius accurrit, duo socios prostratos cernens, auditoque fragore,\nsumm\u00e2 celeritate retro cedit. Mox duos alios qui pone sectabantur,\nhic vertit retro; itaque evanuere omnes. 232. Tum egomet egredior.\nFugitivus obstupescebat etiam. Tandem accurrit, et cor\u00e2m provolutus,\nterram fronte tangit. Id erat pro veneratione. Excito hunc, et, Anglic\u0113\nloquens, plane tanquam intelligat, impero ut mecum veniat. Vulneratos\nvolo invisere. Posterior volutabatur humi, nec potuit surgere; tamen\nab arcu ejus aliquantum metui. Sed fugitivus circumsultans arcum e\nmanu ejus eripit: protinus correpti erat oblisurus fauces, nisi ego\niratissim\u00e2 voce prohibuissem.\n233. Vulneratus ille stolide admiratur: angor (credo) vulneris metum\ndomuerat; nam per femur transfossus est. Fugitivum jussi brachia\nvulnerati m\u0103nibus constringere, funemque e loculis petii, frustra.\nSed funiculum illum collo detraxi, qui prospeculum meum sustinebat:\nhic pro compede sufficiebat. Dein vulnere inspecto, mappam e loculis\nvestis meae extractam applico, et linteis infulae firmiter ligo. 234.\nTum fugitivo imperavi, ut mecum tollat virum et in proximo quodam\ncavo reponat. Non reluctatur ille saucius: credo eum, quum vulnera\nligarem, intellexisse tale facinus non inimici esse. Sed ad primum\nsecutorem convertens me, mortuum esse cognosco; fortasse in cor\npenetraverant pilulae. Confestim fugitivum accersens, reviso speculum.\nEn autem! duo illa navigia jam sunt in mari, abeuntque: id quod mihi\nerat gratissimum. Credidi eos, perterritos quasi miraculo, aufugisse.\n235. In re tam nov\u00e2 vix me recolligo; spatium considerandi cupio; sed\nfugitivus me suscitat, osculans talos meos. Equidem tum ejus demulceo\ngenas, jubeoque me sequi. Descendo ad cavernas: vestem induo, cibos\nappono, ipse quoque vescor. Veste sane ac cibo gaudet, mox iterum\niterumque me veneratur. 236. At ego traham paro cum duobus jumentis.\nQuando gregem aspexit, video quant\u00f9m excitetur. Impono trahae lecti\nvestimenta, ligonem ac palam quandam. Arma mea, praeter gladium, exuor:\ntum cum fugitivo ac cane ascendo novum meum tramitem, jumenta ducens.\nLongiore hoc circuitu regressus ad mortuum, incipio humum ligone\naperire, ut corpus recondam. Id ver\u00f2 fugitivus me non vult facere:\nsumit ferramenta, operam strenue perficit: tum mortuum humo obtegimus.\nClavam ejus curiosus asservavi. 237. Exinde sine mor\u00e2 sauciatum hominem\nin traham assumtum reporto, et gestu signisque benignis permulceo.\nProfect\u00f2 volui hominem sanare, nec ignarus eram quantum impediret\nsanationi pavor et anxietas. Quare quidquid potui excogitare, feci,\ntanquam fratri. Aquam libenter bibit, vesci noluit. Postquam vulnus\nsumm\u00e2 me\u00e2 ope sedul\u00f2 curavi, hunc relinquo: dein fugitivi man\u016bs paro\nligare, ut videam qu\u00f4 se mod\u00f4 gesturus sit. 238. Is autem, genibus\nprocumbens, summ\u00e2 humilitate man\u016bs offert, ut colligem, si velim. Id\nsatis erat. Ego subridens funem retraho: ille rursus gestu demonstrat,\nvelle se mihi servire: atque ego accipio. Jubeo in aren\u00e2 cons\u012bd\u0115re.\nIpse sericam umbellam, fast\u00fbs caus\u00e2, effero, et sub h\u00e2c compositus, in\noptim\u00e2 me\u00e2 sell\u00e2 sedens, delibero quid faciendum.\n239. Arbitror duo hos viros pro servis et pro amicis esse mihi a\nDeo datos, si horum possim \u00e8t venerationem et caritatem conciliare.\nUtrumque arguo per me esse morte ereptum; quoniam, ille alter ne\nstranguletur, id per me stetit. Utrique credidi novam prorsus esse vim\njact\u00fbs ignei. Igitur sperabam mentibus eorum posse me dominari. Decerno\nlargam caritatem majestate temperatam adhibere. Protenus fugitivo\nindo nomen _Elapso_; alterum appello _Secutorem_. 240. Sed novus me\nincessit timor, ne Elapsus, cymb\u00e2 vis\u00e2, evadet remigans; quare remos\nprim\u00f2 recondidi. Porro, si domo solus abirem, vinciebam Elapsum; sed,\ndomum reversus, non solvi modo, sed blandissime alloquebar, Anglic\u00e2\nlingu\u00e2 prorsus garriens. Optimos dabam cibos, socium operis assumebam,\nindustriam ejus collaudans: multa docui, mox ab eo multa quoque didici.\nVidi eum esse gratum et sedulo obedire. Leni cum risu vinciebam eum;\nnecnon ille ridebat, saepius osculabatur man\u016bs meas. Sed ante nundinas\ntertias pudebat me vincire, nec jam faciebam. 241. Jam qu\u00f4 magis\nambobus augerem reverentiam mei, spectaculum jaculationis machinatus\nsum. Duas tabulas ostento ligneas: demonstro ambos esse l\u0113ves, sine\npuncto vel incisur\u00e2. Unam pone alteram apposui, modico intervallo; sic\nautem ut Secutor, quamvis claudus, aspiceret. Dein e parv\u00e2 pistol\u00e2\nemitto ignem. Glans, transverberat\u00e2 priore tabul\u00e2, defoditur in\nsecundum. Igne ac detonatione territi ejulabant ambo: mox vis\u00e2 glande,\nElapsus priorem scrutatur tabulam, et mirabundus Secutori demonstrat\nparvum, immo minimum, foramen. Nec alteruter audebat pistolam\ntangere. Ipsam rem volueram. P\u00f2st paullo Elapsum per prospeculum meum\naspectare feci; id quod cum admiratione commovet. Procedente autem\ntempore horologium meum ostentavi, apertis interioribus machinamentis.\nTalibus rebus credebam barbarorum mentes salubriter capi. 242. Jam\nmagnam facio jacturam. Gnarus quantum barbaris noceant vina ardentia,\nanxius ne his aliquando depravati sint atque efferati, quidquid hujus\ngeneris habebam, Deo invocato, effudi, praeter unam lagunculam, quam\nidcirco in arcanis reposui, si forte pro medicin\u00e2 aliquando foret\nutilis. 243. Nondum memoravi, Secutorem bonis esse indutum sandaliis,\nElapsi pedes nudos fuisse. Uterque praecinctorium gerebat, Secutor\nbalteum quoque cum c\u014dr\u0233to sagittario. Sandalia illa e cortice erant\nplicata; Elapsus autem, dum sedet domi otiosus, a me quidem vinctus,\nsandalia propter meos us\u016bs imprimis, dein propter suos, e me\u00e2 vetere\nmateri\u00e2 confecit. Talem virum cur vincire oportebat? 244. Ego rurs\u00f9m\nilli dono vestem versicolorem, ex iis quas ex mari recuperaveram. Is\naccipit gratus. Post triduum video eum h\u00e2c veste fulgentem: colorum\nsplendor, qui aliquantum erat immutatus, integer redierat. Interrogo\neum Anglic\u0113, unde hoc miraculum? Ridet ille, laetaturque, sed lingu\u00e2\nnequit explicare. 245. Necnon omisi narrare, lacernam propter nocturnum\npraesertim frigus utrique me dedisse; id quod libentissime accep\u0113re.\nEtenim Secutor, qui ambulare nequibat, frigus si quod erat, graviter\npersentiebat; quare accurati\u00f9s eum protegebam; et sane gratus animi\nvidebatur. Ego autem multis signis doceo, illos inter se amicissimos\nesse debere. 246. Tandem Elapsum in cymb\u00e2 mecum colloco, post matutinam\npluviam. Mensis fortasse Februarius erat, serenum coelum, mare\ntranquillum. Ad tertium remigo s\u012dnum, ubi horrendum illud epulum vidi.\nTum subit animum, foedas reliquias non esse amotas: nec fallebar.\nIpso in loco ossa trucidati viri albescebant. Carnis reliquias aut\naves aut insectae aboleverant; sed calvariam humanam quivis noverit:\nitem spinam dorsi atque alia. Elapsus, pietate (credo) gentilici\u00e2\nmotus, aren\u00e2 manibus corras\u00e2, omnes has reliquias quamvis moerens\ndefodit. Mox ad alias res convertimur. Arbores ille magno contemplatur\ngaudio, fruticesque explorat diligentissime, folia multa asportat.\n247. Ne longus sim, ut prim\u00f9m verbis explicare poterat, plurimos\nindicabat mihi fruticum atque arborem us\u016bs: hinc et oleo et funibus\ncito abundabam. Ex humili quodam rubo oleum hic mihi extraxit, itaque\nnon jam confugiendum erat ad ricinum. Mox tria magni pretii indicavit\nlegumina, inter humidiora convallis; prim\u00f9m, rapa maxima et optima,\nnostratibus solidiora et suaviora; deinde, quiddam e fabarum genere,\ngrande ac bonum sane. De \u00c6gyptiorum fab\u00e2 audivi. Nescio an haec et\nilla consimiles fuerint. Tum genus quoddam, ut putabam, cucurbitae;\nsed form\u00e2 fere cylindric\u00e2, velut pulvinulum, colore purpureo, optim\u00e2\ncucumi praestantius. Postea \u012bdem oryzam detexit humidis in locis, quos\nego evitaveram. Porro gossypium mihi retexit. Ex aliis rebus stuppas\nquasdam vel villos extraxit, cannabi vel lino pares.\n248. Aliam quandam rem voluit Elapsus me docere, sed intelligere\nnequibam. Grandiores aliquot aves, quas ego phasianis rettuli dum\npropi\u00f9s praeter volant, ille manibus plaudens columbas et capras esse\ndicit. Prim\u00f2 sic interpretatus sum, ut diceret has edules esse, ut\ncarnem columbinam et caprinam. Poste\u00e0 explicatum est, has aves posse\ndomari et mansuescere, ut capras columbasque meas: de qu\u00f4 seri\u00f9s\nnarrabo. 249. Itidem de palmis multa ille me docuit. Equidem noveram\nalias esse nuciferas, quas _cocos_ appellabam; alias phoenices, vel\ndactyliferas, nanas illas quidem me\u00e2 in insul\u00e2. Jam disco, tertium\ngenus \u00e9t funiferum esse et saccharum praebere; _caryotum_ appellari\naudio. Mollissimi fiunt hinc restes, tanquam lora optime depsta, qui\npropter capistra jumentorum aut cingula possunt adhiberi, necnon\npropter balteos. Attamen ex aspero nucum villo robustiores contexuntur\nfunes, crassae tegetes, sc\u014dpae rigidae. 250. Quartum dixit esse\nole\u00efferum; id quod in Brazili\u00e2 quoque audieram; anne prorsus eadem\narbor sit, nescio. Quintum porro nobilissimum, robore procerissimo et\noptimo, cujus folia pro umbell\u00e2 essent. Denique ex tribus generibus\nad minimum, oleum, vinum, saccharum, ab uno ceram, ab alio farinam\noptimam, provenire. Sed me juvabat, unumquidque inde sumere, unde\nminimi esset laboris. 251. Tam cito tot res Anglic\u0113 Elapsus didicit,\nut crederem posse me jam, h\u00f4c ministro, scapham reducere. Equidem in\nhortos eum deduxi, ubi multa me docuit: sed melius arbitrabar, ad\nreducendam scapham, Secutoris opperiri vires. 252. Ille ex vulnere\nconvalescebat, et summam mihi demonstrabat reverentiam. Ut prim\u00f9m\nsine periculo reptare poterat, ad focum accedebat, rem culinariam\nobservabat, paulatim ipse coquebat, et quae Anglic\u0113 dicebam, coepit\nintelligere, etsi pauciora cum eo locutus eram, quam eum Elapso,\nqui mihi erat socius laborum. Glans plumbea sine dubio e crure ejus\nexierat: nihil intus remansit, quare simplicior erat ejus curatio,\ndonec solide convaluit.\n253. Quodam die Elapsus vitreas illas bullas capris detrahit, et,\nhumillime me veneratus, meo collo circumponit. Ego ridens dolium ei\nostendo, ubi plures habeo bullas; mox detractas collo meo capris paro\nreddere. Ille ver\u00f2 reclamat, obtestatur: tunc e dolio aliquas delegit,\nquae lucentissimae videbantur; has significat mihi convenire. Minores\nquasdam ac min\u00f9s fulgentes suo collo suspendendas rogat. 254. Quanquam\nprim\u00f2 irridebam, mox video rem non esse contemnendam. Non barbari\ns\u014dlum, ver\u00f9m omnes homines regem suum vel imperatorem insignibus\nimperii decoratum volunt. Majestati meae conveniebat, ut regium aliquod\ninsigne gestarem. Itaque dem\u00f9m his bullis, quas pro regulorum Afrorum\nlenocinio imperaveram, egomet regium quiddam inesse opinor. 255. Si\nautem in regno meo ad res ordinandas grad\u016bs quosdam honoris constituam,\nElapsus sine dubio summus minister regius esse debeat, et secundariis\ngemmis fulgere. Ingenium qu\u014fque ejus versutius esse et capacius qu\u00e0m\nSecutoris cognoveram, ut erant hi viri valde dispares. 256. Elapsus\ngracilis erat, procerus, ampl\u00e2 fronte, micantibus oculis, vultu valde\nmobili, ore autem suavissimo. Secutor humeros latior erat, min\u00f9s\nprocerus, genis plenioribus, vultu non malo illo quidem sed tardiore.\nCrura, brachia, crassiora qu\u00e0m Elapsi, qui quidem vix summas suas vires\nattigerat. Hunc credidi tria et viginti annos aetatis habere, Secutorem\ntriginta vel amplius. Ut, quae \u2e24mei vicarius\u2e25 Elapsus juberet, Secutor\nobediret, profore credidi, si Elapsum quasi magistrat\u00fbs insignibus\ndecorarem. Itaque monilia illa, majora et minora, mihi atque Elapso\ncomprobavi. 257. Inter haec re fabrili Elapsum exerceo, usumque doceo\nomnis meae supellectilis. Jam intelligebat omnia fere quae dicerem,\nsed loqui vix conabatur, praeter aliquot vocabula negandi, affirmandi,\napprobandi, interrogandi. Artem ego ferrariam neque exercueram neque\nmultum fortasse solus potuissem: sed quum ille de ferramentis curiosum\nse demonstrat, nova me ambitio capit, si forte, his ministris, ars\nquoque illa mihi serviat. Nunc explico tant\u00f9m, per ignem et malleum\nrem confici. 258. Barbarorum uterque contexendis viminibus, juncis,\narundinibus, cannis, valde excellebat. Quidquid hujus modi ego conf\u0113ci,\nerat sane inhabile. Jam vero illi magnam mihi vim qualorum, corbium,\nfiscorum rapide contexunt, Elapso materiem harum rerum comportante;\nnecnon, quod praesertim mihi cordi erat, idoneas perficiunt caligas\ntextiles. Ut aquam excluderent, res nullius momenti videbatur, si\nlapidum ac saxorum asperitates, necnon insectas defenderent. 259.\nSecutor autem in re coquinari\u00e2 excellebat. E cocorum nucibus placentas\ndelicatissimas, item quasi florem quandam lactis, faciebat. Pisces,\ndioscoreas, manioces, bananas, plurimas nuces ita cond\u012btas proferebat,\nut nihil supra: etenim pro condimentis habebat ananassas, zingiberim,\npiper et alia aromata, saccharum e palmis et oleum vel optimum. Mox,\npostquam inter silvas vagari potuit, aves plurimas insidiis capiebat;\nunde nullo nitrati pulveris dispendio, suave habebamus epulum. Porr\u00f2\nfruticem invenit, cujus foliis in sole desiccatis aquam aspergebat\ncalefactam: horum jus tepidum, saccharo admisto, praesertim cum flore\ncoci lacteo, gratissimum fuit. _Potionem foliaceam_ appellabam.\n260. Saepius mecum deliberavi, anne satis tuto s\u0115cures penes hos\nviros relinquerem: video tamen, si quid in h\u00e2c re sit periculi, id\nfortiter dissimulando optime defendi. Si suspicionem fassus ero,\npravum consilium ipse submonebo. Tela omnia am\u014fvere, quae possint esse\nlethalia, prorsus non possum. Si (quod minime est veri simile) ambo\nhomines in me conjurabunt, fortasse vix potero servari; nam igniaria\nmea tela surripient. Sed nisi conjurabunt, alteruter mihi auxiliabitur:\nnec credo alienari posse amborum animos, dum majestatem ac vim meam\nbenignitate tempero. 261. His rebus perpensis, quia lusus corporeus\nmentem levat, ludum gladiatorium decerno. Etenim si redeant barbari, si\ndepugnare cogamur, meos viros velim totidem barbaris longe praestare;\nat si neque suas habeant sagittas neque fusili plumbo exerceantur neque\ngladiis bonis rem gerant, inferiores barbaris fiant. Igitur Elapsum\nprotenus, Secutorem simul ac sanitas permisit, gladiatoriam doceo artem.\n262. Vimineis quibusdam munimentis caput, humeros, crura protegimur,\nut magn\u00e2 vi poss\u012bmus sine periculo caesim ferire; et effusos ex ictibus\nhabebamus ris\u016bs. Postea ludum variabam, ne ull\u00e2 ratione pugnandi\ndeficerent. Sane ventrem, pectus, vultum protegere, si hostis punctim\npetat, longe difficilius est. Spiss\u00e2 tegete ac larv\u00e2 robust\u00e2 armaturam\nconcinnavi; sed ipsi viminea scuta fecerunt, quae, laevo brachio\ngestata, ict\u016bs repellerent. Video tamen hanc ludi formam, quantumvis\nobtusum sumas pro gladio baculum, oculis et ventri esse periculosam.\nPsittacus autem re gladiatori\u00e2 abhorrebat cunct\u00e2, multoque cum\nejulatu absiliebat. 263. Mox Secutor, qui suum retinebat arcum atque\naliquot sagittas, pennis anatum ac ferreis clavis vult sagittas novas\nfabricari. Ipsius sagittis mucrones ex piscium ossibus erant, nam ferri\nsu\u00e2 in gente exstabat nihil. Clavos eos quotquot maxime viderentur\nidonei, libens dono; is autem valde peritum se ostendit, quum insuper\nlimam et cultrum operi commodo. 264. At ego vel parvam catapultam magno\narcui longe anteponebam, pigebatque me qu\u00f2d pessulum ejus tractorium\nchart\u00e2 describere, nedum ligno fingere, tam difficile videretur. Sed\ncalamis et chart\u00e2 designando meditor, experior, donec pessulum cum\ntalo suo tandem recte excogitaverim. 265. Tum caprarum cornua, quae\nreservaveram, exquiro, et idoneum proponens stipitem caedo, sculpo,\nterebro: denique mollissimo e ligno, satis magn\u00e2 cum diligenti\u00e2, rude\net grande constituo exemplar: quo viso totam rem intellexere. Itaque\nipsis opus remisi elegantius perficiendum; nec spe me\u00e2 falsus eram, nam\ncatapultas haud spernendas p\u00f2st pa\u00f9lo confecerunt. Ego autem glandes\nidoneas e plumbo confeci, sed spicula avebam.\nCAPUT (X.) DECIMUM.\n266. Circiter id temporis statui scapham, si possem, reducere, ne\nvela prorsus corrumperentur. Elapsus autem jam satis intelligebat,\nquid juberem. Malleum, clavos, serram parvam, argillam vitreariam,[V]\nac\u016bs sarcinarias, funiculos, velorum aliquot lacinias, in mulctrali\ncomposui: haec Elapsus portat. Ego cibum, poculum, cultellum, pistolas\nporto. Flumen convallis vado transivimus, saxis adjuti modicis, quorum\nope credebam pontem sine magno opere posse construi. Sic breviore\ncursu ad scapham pertingimus. 267. Prim\u00f9m vela expando, inspicio,\ntento: tribus in locis valde infirma esse opinor. Denoto, ubi\nresarcienda sint: id Elapsus strenue perficit. Intere\u0101 mulctrali aquam\npluvialem marinamque scaph\u00e2 exhaurio: fructus in aqu\u00e2 putrescentes\nvehementer aversor: subt\u00f9s invenio solida omnia, nec quidquam rimarum\nesse timendum. Fabri ope non egent tabulae; itaque perfectis velis\ningredimur. 268. Aura, sicut expectaveram, adversa erat. Remigamus ex\nostio, dein expansis velis, ad dextram excurrimus, gubernante Elapso,\nid quod optime calluit: ego jubeo et vela rego. Ut prim\u00f9m deflectendum\nin terram opinor, exclamo \u201cAd sinistram!\u201d et protinus torqueo vela.\nObedit ille: scapha optime convertitur: tunc praecipuus meus decessit\ntimor. Sine ullo periculi sensu primum illud exsuperamus promontorium,\nquamvis adversante vento, postea celeri\u00f9s proficiscentes praevertimur,\ndenique littus intra cautes legimus usque ad portum meum, ubi in navale\nscapham laetus repono. 269. Ego autem Elapsum interrogo, \u201cAnne bona\nsit scapha?\u201d Responsum exspectabam, \u201cSic, sic;\u201d vel \u201cBona, bona:\u201d sed\nadmiror, quum ille clare ac deliberate respondet, \u201cBona non est; bonam\nfaciemus posth\u00e0c.\u201d Iterum interrogo, Cur? Is ver\u00f2 quasi novam v\u014dcis\nfacultatem exhauserit, nihil respondet nisi, \u201cSic.\u201d\n270. Quod cibos collegeram et s\u0113v\u0115ram longe amplius qu\u00e0m quod mihimet,\nuni viro, erat opus, s\u0101ne gavisus eram: sed quum Secutor, injussu meo,\nin agello meo novam operam inciperet, iracundi\u00f9s paull\u00f2 rationem ejus\nrei reposco. Is humillime m\u0103nibus ac vultu deprecans, \u201cSic optime\u201d esse\nconfirmat. Ego vero gaudeo, qu\u00f2d, tardior ingenior qui visus erat, per\nse possit bonas operas excogitare; nec diu est, quum video, in hortulo\neum pariter atque in culin\u00e2 fore utilem. Jumentis \u012ddem gaudebat; inde\nspes mihi, fore ut ex diversis famulorum ingeniis cumulatior proveniret\nopera nostra. 271. Ut prim\u00f9m, sanato crure, natare ausus est, admod\u00f9m\ngestiebat; nam propter tep\u014drem maris, nigritae omnes natandi sunt\nstudiosissimi. Equidem post primum illum diem nunquam in ipsum mare me\ncommittebam, ne intra cautes quidem; tanta me timiditas in solitudine\ninvasit: in portu mod\u00f2 natabam. Sed cum Elapso etiam inter fractos\nfluct\u016bs amabam ludere; mox aqu\u00e2, velut telo, inter natandum, aves\ngrallatorias petebamus, qu\u00f4 in ludo acerrimum se Secutor ostentabat.\n272. Oleo jam abundans, _saponem_ facere volui; nec poteram Secutori,\nquid vellem, explicare. Algas vere marinas plurium generum cremavi:\nearum cineres oleo admistas igne lentissimo percoquebam, aqu\u00e2 calidiore\ncircumposit\u00e2. Item e mangarum fructu quum spissum quandam extraxissem\nr\u0113s\u012bnam, hanc oleo commistam itidem decoxi. Post aliquot experimenta,\nduobus modis saponem non ita m\u0103lum confeci: tum omnem rem perspexit\nSecutor, meque in sapone componendo facile superavit. Usum autem\nsaponis edocui, atque exinde in curando corpore utebar. 273. Rideo\nsane, quum video quant\u00e2 ille superbi\u00e2 aurigam se e trah\u00e2 jactet, in\nvilissimo quodem scamillo sedens, tribus jumentis vectus. Ceter\u00f9m\nomnia quae imperaverim, recte perficit, usuque trahae impetrato,\nmultas reportat radices cum ipsarum humo: has dividit aut circumc\u012bdit,\nfimum curatissime ingerit; dem\u00f9m satis magno cum labore amplum facit\nseminarium. Tum mecum arguo, si nimium praeparetur cibi, id minime\nculpandum, quoniam tres viri vesci e meo oportebit: item industrios\nhomines non e suis laboribus effugituros; jam pro patri\u00e2 adoptasse hanc\ninsulam. 274. Elapsus quoque suas inveniebat operas: atque ego, dum\nuterque mihi, quidquid jubeam, obediat, gaudeo qu\u00f2d liberrim\u00e2 utuntur\ndiligenti\u00e2, neque socordiae sint amantes. Tamen ne subit\u00f2 defessi\nconc\u012ddant, saepius excogitabam, aut ludo aut varietate, levamenta\nlaboris. Remigando, piscando, gladiatoriis ludis, natando quotidie,\ntelis et catapult\u00e2, ordinarium opus variabatur. 275. Tunc autem texendo\nvel plicando praesertim exercebat se Elapsus, nec quidnam conficeret,\nsatis intelligebam. Ex cannis diffissis quasi tabulas complicat\narcte reticulatas, juncosque sic internectit, ut foramina concludat.\nLevissimum sane erat opus, quamquam firmum. Artem ejus admirans, quaero\ntandem, quorsum haec spectent. Respondet, \u201cPropter scapham, sed ferro\nqu\u014fque opus esse.\u201d 276. Amplius interroganti, totum suum propositum\nexplicat, partim verbis, partim rem ipsam demonstrando. Ait, scapham\nin fluvio esse non semper malam, in mari cum velo plenam periculi;\nquippe quae neque fluct\u016bs neque vim venti tolerare possit. Duplex opus\nscaphae esse addendum. Ne fluctus a fronte supercurreret, erigendam\ntanquam loricam in pror\u00e2, dein praeter latera quasi alas expandendas,\nsed has firmandas ferro. Id mihi esse curandum, se paraturum cetera.\n277. Admirabar hominis ingenium, nec tamen proram praealtam approbabam;\nille vero negat sine his rebus vela profore. Mox ingemo, nescius quare,\nquorsum, quando, in magnum mare sim invasurus. Sed memet objurgo: Cur\ntandem, priusquam hi viri ad te venerunt, tu tantopere hanc scapham\nfovisti? Agnosco oportere, in cas\u016bs necessarie incertissimos, scapham\nqu\u00e0m robustissime reconcinnare, v\u0113lis idoneam. Itaque de ferrari\u00e2\nre etiam atque etiam commeditor, mod\u00f2 chart\u00e2 delineans, mod\u00f2 ipsa\nferramenta colligens, comparans, examinans.\n278. Inter haec libet cum Elapso caprorum scopulos visitare. Equidem\nsemper timidus fueram, quoties ibi forem, (nam inter saxa prospicere\nnequibam) ne novum quid atque infestum latens subit\u00f2 ingrueret. Fateor\nme, dum solus manebam, timidiorem indies factum. Min\u00f9s min\u00f9sque me in\ndensos arctosque locos volebam committere; sed aperta amabam spatia,\nubi cuncta longe possem prospectare: idcirco quoque min\u00f9s inter saxa\ncaprina pervaseram. Nunc cum Elapso fortiorem me gerens, cum pistolis\nprodeo: ille sicam gerebat: explorare, non venari volo. Ascendimus\ntramitem; verna prata floribus suaveolentia praeterimus; locos notos\nrecognosco. Mox longi\u00f9s penetrans, ab excelsiore quodam saxo repente\nnovum gratissimumque video prospectum. Lacus longissimus, quasi amnis\nflexuosus, per plura millia passuum in fronte jacebat. Aquas quasdam\nvicinas ante\u00e0 notaveram; jam agnosco aut membra hujus fuisse lac\u00fbs,\naut ejus quasi cisternas naturales. In or\u00e2 erant herbae fruticesque\nviridissimi, uberrimum mitibus bestiis praebentes alimentum. Circa\nsurgebant acclives scopuli, quibus decurrentes sine numero rivuli\nlacum replebant. Maxima vis h\u00eec versabatur aquatilium alitum tanquam\nsu\u00e2 in domo. 279. Dum haec me valde excitant, Elapsus antiloparum\ngregem viderat, magn\u00e2 cum delectatione: mihi in _paludes_ aspicienti\nillud jam succurrit, fortasse has ejus esse generis quod _palustre_\nappellatur. Sed nolo eas perturbare, atque ad mare poti\u00f9s duco, ubi\njuga montium alti\u00f9s assurgebant. Lacum a septentrionibus circumeo,\ninde pergens mare vers\u00f9s. Tandem, per scopulos enisi, mare non longe\nvidemus, sed descensu asperrimo a nobis divisum. Subjacebat ora terrae,\nlongula, palmis praesertim abundans; sed rupes ulteri\u00f9s ipsas in undas\nvidebantur se praecipitare. Nullum sane portum h\u00e2c in or\u00e2 dispicio,\nquod orientem vers\u00f9s patebat. Circumversi, sed mare despicientes,\nredimus domum. 280. Ego ver\u00f2, quanquam augescebant imbres, oper\u00e2\nferrari\u00e2 identidem exercebar. Incudem, folles, malleos, forcipes, e\nre tormentari\u00e2 navis nostrae habebam. Fornacem de novo, famulis meis\nadjutus, decrevi exstruere, lateritiam materiem residuam adhibens.\nCarbones e ligno parare uterque probe calluit. Mox, Elapso folles\nexercente, ego ac Secutor ferreolos calefactos tundebamus. Etiam\ncalidum frigido pertundere docebam, dum Secutor forcipem tenet. Sic\nvirgae ferreae, quales propter scapham postulabat Elapsus perficiuntur.\nAliud post aliud paullatim conamur; prim\u00f2 multimodis clavos ferreos\nmutabamus,--in hamos, in annulos, mox in spicatos annulos; sic plures\nin formas discebamus ferrum fingere. Tandem illi, re tot\u00e2 perspect\u00e2,\nsignificant, meo labore non jam esse opus: se hujus artificii esse\ncompotes. 281. Inter haec, magno sum dolore afflictus, occiso psittaco.\nHunc accipiter quidam incautum excepit, neque ego ulcisci poteram,\nquanquam strepitum carissimae avis audiens. Sed antequam ignipultam\nattinerem, hostis cum praed\u00e2 evanuit. Hanc sane rem aegerrime tuli.\nQuod postquam animadvertit Elapsus, solari me volens, psittacos\nnon bonas esse aves dicit, alias quasdam longe meliores; neque\ndolendum esse, quando tanta mihi superesset avium pulcerrimarum atque\nutilissimarum varietas, quae _velut caprae aut columbae_ cibatum ab\nhomine accipere vellent. Tunc memini, eum tale quid de phasianis illis\ndixisse; mox interrogando comperio, ipsas has aves facile mansuescere\net ova par\u0115re plurima: id quod libenter audio. Tum Secutori denuncio,\nsi aliquot harum avium possit insidiis capere vivas, id mihi fore\ngratissimum.\n282. Plurima per imbres parabamus. Catapultas indies perfecti\u00f9s\nfigurabant: loricam ego et alas scaphae summ\u00e2 cur\u00e2 maturabam. Scilicet\nElapsus bitumine quodam opus suum perunxerat, ut aquam rejicerent junci\ncannaeque: a me postulabat ut compagem totam firmiter conjungerem. Alia\nquaedam in melius novabam, quae longum est dicere:--de supellectile\ntractori\u00e2, item de arc\u012bs penariis. Famuli autem mei operas quasdam\ninter se exercebant, de quibus non consulebar. Id me non conturbat,\nquoniam industrios sentio. Inter imbres pabula vel ligna colligunt,\nfolia, cannas, alia reportant, fimum humo ingerunt, gregi inserviunt,\nnatant, remigant, gladio vel telis se exercent. Sic dies praetereunt\nceleriter. 283. Jam Secutor ad me venit, veneransque humiliter ait,\n\u201cPessimos esse lep\u014fres: velle se occ\u012bdere.\u201d Dioscoreas et maniocas\nostendit, non corrosas modo, sed ex humo evulsas. Lepores si supra\nsint, \u201cbonos\u201d esse ait, sed \u201cinfra non bonos.\u201d Etsi par\u00f9m bene\nloquebatur, intelligo quid velit, et video non esse absonum. Attamen\nvexare mitissimam gentem, quam egomet tanquam colonos deduxeram, id\nnimis crudele puto. Tandem, mult\u00f9m reluctatus, esc\u00e2 atque blanditiis\nveteres mansuetosque parentes capio, et in pristinam caveam concludo.\nCeteros ad arbitr\u00f9m Secutoris abigi aut occ\u012bdi patior. 284. Duorum\njam ministrorum oper\u00e2 adjutus, paull\u00f2 amplius poteram litteris me\ndare: id vero ipsum illi mirabantur. Aliquando quasdam res iis e l\u012dbro\nlegebam, si quid possent intelligere: p\u00f2st paull\u00f2 id eos penetrabat\nalti\u00f9s. Nempe videbant, sibi esse aut suam aut senum aliquot \u2e24quibuscum\nvixissent\u2e25 sapientiam; me ex libro plurimorum cognitiones ad libitum\nmeum haurire. 285. Quoniam neque librorum habui copiam, neque otium\niis esse poterat, litteras docere supervacaneum credidi; sed libere\ncolloquebar multis de rebus. Illi autem, arrectis animis, studiose\nauscultabant. De meis fortunis aliquot res enarravi, denique de\nnaufragio. Magnitudinem demonstravi nav\u012ds et uberem rerum copiam, quam\nex meris ruinis excepi. Talia dum narrabam, illi textilia continuabant\nopera et linguae meae indies fiebant intelligentiores: id quod maximi\nsane erat momenti.\n286. Tandem se aperiunt, explicantque quidnam elaboraverint.\nRegium mihi vestitum exhibent atque imponunt. Primum erat capitis\ndecoramen, crista vel corona ex pennis multicoloribus: hanc infulae\nmeae superimpositum volebant. Dein teg\u0115s dorsualis ex palmeis cannis\natque arundinibus; quae sic erant dispositae, ut ipsarum colores pro\npulcerrimo fuerint ornamento. Praecinctorium item erat ex mollibus\njuncis, quod a ventre ad genu pertingebat. Tum calcei, ex palmarum fune\nsupra, ex cocorum villo infra. E bullis vitreis catellas fecerant,\ncollarem talaremque: porro alias bullas aut vesti aut praecinctorio\nass\u00fcerant, tanquam gemmas. Talia fidelitatis documenta laetissime et\nbenignissime accepi: sensi profect\u00f2, posse barbarica regni insignia\nmult\u00f9m valere, aut apud hos ipsos, aut apud alios barbaros. Decerno\nquotidie, finitis operibus, uno alterove horum me ornare; et si\nqua dies solemnior videretur, gestare universa. Nunc, benignitatis\nostentui, utrumque fidelium ministrorum super oculis osculor. 287.\nLongum foret si narrarem, quant\u00e2 cum industri\u00e2 messem fructuum, radicum\nac foliorum su\u00e2 in tempestate colleger\u012bmus, tres viri cum tribus\njumentis. Ego autem post biennium h\u00e2c in insul\u00e2 jam factus sum temporum\nperitior: si ver\u014d antea ego nimium fui avidus, hi nunc meam aviditatem\nsuperant. Nec culpo, immo laudo et gratias ago, qu\u00f2d tam laboriose\nvictum et delicias comparent. Pluviae, calores, procellae, fulgura,\nsuo in ordine, velut anno superiore redi\u0113re. Dem\u00f9m, tempestate ill\u00e2\nperact\u00e2, coeli serenitas rediit; atque illi sub auroram laborantes,\nscapham perficiebant praeseptam labrosamque. Dein post autumnales\nprocellas prors\u00f9s finitas, ut ipso in mari probaretur opus, erecti sunt\nomnium animi. V\u0113lis accuratissime recognitis, varias curs\u00fbs experimur\nformas. Pro saburra \u2e24ponderosa aliquot saxa\u2e25 portabamus; haec cum ips\u00e2\nancor\u00e2 ita collocavimus, ut scapham male deprimerent; quae nihilominus\nse solidam stabilemque praestitit. In portum regressi, novam loricam\nexploramus, num qu\u00e0 laxetur vel firmitate careat. Sane plauditur ab\nuniversis. 288. Postridie coram me submisse veniunt, dicuntque, \u201cesse\nquod velint orare: sperare se, benigne me auditurum.\u201d Impetrat\u00e2 veni\u00e2,\nl\u012bbere curt\u0113que explicant, \u201csine uxoribus vitam non bene transigi:\nvelle se in scaph\u00e2 uxores ex advers\u00e2 terr\u00e2 reportare.\u201d Id me sane\nperculit: tot res in mentem irruebant; vultusque meus, ut credo,\nretegebat, quid sentirem. Breviter aio: \u201comni in re me illis consultum\nvelle; si possim, facturum; sed multa esse perpendenda, nec posse me\nillic\u00f2 responsum dare. Ad munia sua redirent, crederentque me de suo\ncommodo anxie meditar\u00ee.\u201d 289. De mobilitate et perfidi\u00e2 barbarorum\nmulta audiveram. Memet interrogabam, anne idcirco regiis me honoribus\ncumulaverint, ut scapham furati abirent. Id vero posse nego; hi namque\nviri fu\u00eare hostes: uterque ad me qu\u00e0m ad alterum propior est. Tum si\naufugere velint, Quamne ad terram? anne ad patriam? sed patriae sunt\ndiversae. Sed sint sane fideles: mene scapham meam cum meis ministris\nmari committere, domi sedentem? qui si fluctibus hausti nunquam\nredeant, iter\u00f9m sum orbatus, et pejus quoque, spe abrupt\u00e2. Melius\narbitror pericula participare. At si omnes egredimur, quis gregem\ncustodiet? quis fruges decerpet, servabit? Talia commeditatus, crastino\ndie iter\u00f9m colloquor. 290. Prim\u00f9m interrogo, Anne jam uxores habeant.\nSecutor abrupti\u00f9s respondet: \u201cper me suam uxorem a se distractam:\u201d\nfuscus autem rubor, dum loquebatur, vultum oculosque implebat, in quo\ntenerum aliquid inesse putabam. \u201cMortuum esse se uxori suae,\u201d addidit;\n\u201cquae, secund\u00f9m gentis morem, jam alii viro sine dubio nupsisset;\nquoniam, se vivere, nemo suorum posset credere.\u201d Recte eum dicere\njudicabam. Mox Elapsus humescente oculo incert\u00e2que lingu\u00e2 respondet,\n\u201csibi virginem quandam fuisse desponsam, quando ab hostibus surreptus\nesset.\u201d Nihil ultra addidit. 291. Deinde interrogo, unde velint uxores\npetere? ab Elapsi patri\u00e2 an a Secutoris? et quo signo cursum in mari\npossint dirigere? Respondet Elapsus, \u201cSecutorem ad ipsius patriam\nnolle reverti: id uxori ejus fore crudelissimum: Elapsi patriam\nambo petituros. Ceter\u00f9m si vento favente hanc insulam ips\u00e2 vesper\u00e2\nrelinquant, cum luce terram continentem propi\u00f9s visurum, cunctam sibi\nsatis notam; deinde, ut prim\u00f9m popularibus suis aspiciantur, his\napprobantibus ad terram appulsuros.\u201d Talia quum audissem, respondi:\nRecte se res habere; sed amplius esse ponderandas.\n292. Vespere post operam, ad rem redeo, interrogans: \u201cQuis autem\ntot buccis cibum dabit, si h\u00e2c in insul\u00e2 quinque erimus,--tres viri,\nuxores duae?\u201d Tum Secutor arridens ait, \u201cOcto hominibus satis esse\njam cibi, superque.\u201d Elapsus autem, genibus meis provolutus, dextram\nosculatur, oratque, \u201cne irascar; sed amplius quiddam illos in animo\nhabere. Interroganti mihi, Quidnam igitur?\u201d respondet: Matrem suam esse\nmortuam, fratres occisos: velle se, si possit id fieri, patrem suum\nh\u00fbc transvehere. Hoc quum dixisset, vultum meum sollicite contemplans,\naddit: \u201cNumne aliud quiddam audeam dicere?\u201d \u201cPerge:\u201d inquam. Tum\ndicit, \u201cNescire se, quis sit uxorem daturus: posse autem fieri, ut\nparens, qui unam habeat virginem filiam _ita_ velit dare, _si_ cum\ne\u00e2 sit iturus. Anne ego nolim insulam meam frequentari?\u201d Res ipsa\nnon mihi displicebat: quanquam id quoque reputo, cavendum esse, ne\nnimi\u00e2 barbarorum frequenti\u00e2 ipse in servitutem redigar. Ergo benigne\nrespondeo, de tot novis rebus considerate cogitandum. Illud tantum\naffirmo, si proficiscentur, me socium periculi habituros.\n293. Postridie iis annuncio, gratissimum esse id mihi, qu\u00f2d tam longe\nprospexerint tamque industrie laboraverint, praeparantes cibum,\ninstrumenta, materiem, ipsamque scapham. Talibus viris, quidquid restet\nardui, sperare me fore pronum; sed priusquam aliis de rebus dicam,\nillud apprime necessarium, ut nostram nos insulam exploremus, antequam\nin cas\u016bs maris committamur. Hoc enim stare mihi certum, ut non sine me\nnavigent. Jam si procella ingruet, si vi venti in aliud insulae l\u0103tus\ndetrudamur, quid ignavius, qu\u00e0m non n\u00f4sse port\u016bs, littora, rivos, ubi\ntut\u00f2 recondamur? Circumnavigandam insulam, indagandas profluentes\nmaris, tentandas bol\u012dde profunditates, notandas in chart\u00e2 montium\nformas, priusquam in incerta maris ruamus. Haec quum dixissem, illi\nprim\u00f2 vix intelligebant; sed postquam bis terque explicavi, tandem\naequissimis animis decretum meum acceperunt.\nCAPUT (XI.) UNDECIMUM.\n294. Post hos sermones uterque magis magisque in operas ruit.\nVestitus nuptiales ac dona sponsalia credebam praeparari. Cannarum,\narundinum, juncorum, restium vel filorum, pinnarum plumarumque magnam\nvim comportabant. Postea explicatur, patrio Elapsi regulo plumatam\nvestem ac dorsualem tegetem pro dono destinari. Id quum intellexi,\ne vitreis meis bullis plures obtuli, ut pro torque collari essent:\nhas accepit Elapsus libentissime. Video quoque lectorum opercula vel\nstragula e mollibus juncis contexi: igitur versicolores vestes \u2e24quas\nhabebam fulgentissimas\u2e25 in sponsarum usum dono. 295. Ego vero b\u014fl\u012dde\n(quam Graeci vocant) quaesit\u00e2;--etenim plures in nave fuerant--saepius\ncum alterutro virorum egrediebar longi\u00f9s, interdum in cymb\u00e2, si\nvalde esset serena tempestas, quia tum remis certior est cursus.\nTunc totam illam oram quae Caprino Jugo subjacet, satis exploravi;\nnusquam patebat scaphae receptaculum: sed colles accurate delineavi,\nut locos posthac recognoscerem. Necnon cum ambobus in scaph\u00e2 egressus,\noram adversam juxta hortos ulterius visitavi; quidquid de littore,\nde profunditate, de montibus erat notandum, id conscripsi, notatis\ncoeli regionibus. Necnon unicuique montium nomen indidi aliquod, cum\nsu\u00e2 figur\u00e2 descriptum. 296. Quum die quodam in hortis cum Elapso\npermansi, Secutore domum misso propter varios usus, per inferiora\nprata diligentius exspatiantes, oryzam inv\u0113n\u012dmus in uvidiore loco\nlate crescentem, ubi nunquam ante\u00e0 incesseram. Hanc rem credidi\nposse aliquando magni esse momenti. 297. Postridie quiescente aur\u00e2,\nexcurrimus in cymb\u00e2 usque ad portum hortorum. Montem illum altissimum\njudico praecipuum esse oportere locorum documentum. Quare a tribus\nlateribus figuram ejus accurate delineo; tum credidi, me, si h\u00e2c in\nparte insulae forem, in die quamvis nubilo posituram meam agniturum.\nCautes quoque, si quas vid\u0113rem, scripto notavi. 298. Profluentes maris\nmult\u00f2 erat difficilius observare vel conjectare; nam aestus diurnus\natque aura conturbabat rationes meas. Insulam a Septemtrionibus\npraeverti non ausus sum. Multa navigando expertus, tandem despero de\nprofluentibus cognoscendis, nec valde perturbor, sed de hac re reticui.\n299. Domum revertenti delicatissimum mihi prandium apponit Secutor,\nex avibus grandioribus membratim conc\u012bs\u012bs. Genus avium nesciebam: num\notides[W] esse possint, dubitabam. Ille explicat, esse eas ex h\u00f4c\ngenere, quod mansuefactum volebam; sed hacten\u00f9s nullam se cepisse\nvivam. Neque ille neque Elapsus vult vesci: sed postquam finivi,\nvescebantur. Tum interrogo, quidnam de grege possit fieri, si nos omnes\nperegrinamur. Tacent paulisper; mox Elapsus respondet: \u201cSi faveant\naurae atque Fortuna Maritalis, triduo nos posse reverti. Solvendum\nesse gregem, compedibus fortasse vel objicibus praepeditum. Quando\nredeamus, fistulae cantui obedituros: sin min\u00f9s, si forte haedorum\naliquot amittantur, ferendum damnum. Nos e colle Caprino novos haedos,\nsi libeat, venari posse; uxores non posse.\u201d Quando haec serio ac\ndeliberatissime dixit, vix risum continui. 300. Sed pergo interrogare,\nQuot remos habeamus scaphae. \u201cDuos tant\u00f9m,\u201d respondent; eos nempe\nquos egomet fabricavi. Id sufficere nego; quippe si aur\u00e2 deficiamur,\nfortasse remigantes tres viri quatuor remis novum assequemur ventum,\nsed duobus utentes remis in stagnante a\u00ebre haerebimus. Novos remos,\nclamant, caedendos; id quod ego comprobo. 301. Tum alium injicio\nscrupulum. Si barbaris foret confligendum, ego ignipult\u00e2 pistolisque\nvaleo; ministri mei comin\u00f9s gladio bene pugnant, sed emin\u00f9s a barbaris\nsuperantur. Nam neque multas habent sagittas, neque multum in h\u00e2c arte\nsunt exerciti: porro si maxime essent sagittarii, duo viri a multis\nfacile obruuntur. Melioribus opus est telis,--H\u00ecc pausam facio. 302.\nIlli prim\u00f2 tacuere: tandem invito sermonem. Elapsus timide interrogat,\n\u201canne sciam, quot habeamus in usum catapultarum praeparata spicula\nmissilia?\u201d Tum respondeo, \u201cEgo certe nescio.\u201d Ille vero, tanquam\nveritus ne me reprehensione corripiat, tacet iterum. Sed Secutor,\npaullo audentior, testatur, \u201cnon posse illos portare spiculorum jam\nconfictorum pondus: plura confingere, inutile esse: quod genus telorum\nsit melius, se nescire, nisi si ignipultas denotare velim.\u201d 303. Sensi\nme err\u00e2sse; nam nolui igniaria tela tunc eos edocere. Itaque benigne\ndixi, \u201cindustriam illorum omni laude esse dignam, meque gaudere, qu\u00f2d\ntantam haberent spiculorum vim: sperare me, sine praelio aut jurgio nos\nredituros; sed quotidie catapultas exercerent, et tot uterque secum\nassumeret spicula, quot res ipsa permitteret.\u201d Tali responso contentos\nse demonstrabant.\n304. Caesis duobus cocorum truncis, dissecamus, dolamus, in remos\nfingimus;--nam quatuor remos placebat conficere. Variat\u00e2 oper\u00e2 ac ludo,\nin labores reficimur, aemulatione ac spe erecti. Haec inter negotia\nmultum colloquinur. De ipsorum patri\u00e2 interrogo viros, numne earumdem\nrerum sit ferax, quae h\u00e2c in insul\u00e2 gignuntur. 305. Illi explicant,\npaene contiguas se habitasse regiones, scopulos\u00e2 or\u00e2 divisas, quae\n\u2e24ipsos propter scopulos\u2e25 ab utrisque concupisceretur; hinc illos\ninternecinis involvi bellis. Nam ceteram suorum terram ex mer\u00e2 humo\nconsistere, molli, uvid\u00e2, arboribus fruticibusque uberrim\u00e2, sed siccis\nsolidisque locis carente: porro per inopiam ferri optimum lignum minus\nesse utile; igitur saxo destitutis nulla esse domorum fundamenta.\n306. Domos gentilicias, ut plurim\u00f9m, nidos esse, inter ramos arborum\ncontextas, ut ab udo solo submoveantur, praesertim tumescentibus\nfluviis. In uvid\u00e2 calid\u00e2que ill\u00e2 humo proc\u0113ras nasci arbores, egregios\nfruct\u016bs; plura tamen genera meis in montibus vigere, quae illic uvidus\ncalor non patiatur. Interrogo, Habeant-ne uvas? \u201cHabebamus,\u201d inquit\nSecutor, \u201csed gustu his dispares: nil erant nostrae, nisi dulcis\nquaedam in ore aqua.\u201d \u201cErgo,\u201d inquam, \u201ctu exquire, quidnam e siccatis\nnostris uvis sit optimum, quod patri sponsae tuae des dono.\u201d Arridet.\n307. Tum in Elapsum conversus: \u201cTu\u00e2ne in patri\u00e2 nuptias tum celeriter\nperficiunt, ut parens tribus horis unicam filiam viro ignoto for\u00e0s\nducendam tradat?\u201d Paullum pudibundus respondet ille: \u201cSi pater domi\nrelinquendus erit, non potest id fieri: sin pater cum fili\u00e2 sit iturus,\npotest nonnunquam. Atqui neque ego inter meos sum ignotus, et propter\nme confident Secutori. Te autem regie vestitum postqu\u00e0m viderint ac vim\ntelorum noverint, audierintque a me qualis et quantus sis, quidlibet\nmihi tui grati\u00e2 concedent.\u201d Dubitabam, merane esset hoc adulatio, an\nveritas; vera tamen eum dicere, libebat credere. 308. Mox e Secutore\nquaerebam, quapropter ipse atqui ipsius populares ad insulam meam tunc\npervenerint et nunquam ali\u00e0s. Rem ab initio narrat. Scopulosa illa\nregio erat ab alteris occupata: hinc coeptum est bellum. Quisquis\nhostium erat in praesidio, comedendus destinabatur: id gravissimum\niis supplicium. Inter alios correptus est illic Elapsus. Sed patriam\nvers\u00f9s redeuntes oppressit procella, quae duas scaphas in apertum mare\nabripuit. Totam noctem frustra luctati, summo m\u0101n\u0115 insulam meam non\nlonge vid\u0113runt. Volentes neque v\u0113n\u0113re neque iterum venient; nam ignei\nmei teli vis pro fulgure praestigiatoris divini sine dubio nunciatur.\n309. Tum volo scire, utrum hic esse insulam prorsus nesciverint. Tum\nElapsus confirmat, montem insulae excelsissimum interdum distingui;\nsed non vacare ut mer\u00e2 curiositate mari se committant,--tumido, an\ntranquillo. Percontor, numne caro humana propter lubidinem palati\nexquiratur. Ambo vehementer negant: in ultionem summae injuriae,\nidcirco tant\u00f9m aiunt quasi religiose com\u0115di. 310. Mox Secutor urget,\nut diserte dicam qu\u00f4 die velim navigare; nam certum se habere, benigna\nmea verba pro factis valere, nec velle me sine caus\u00e2 diem proferre.\nTum video decernendum esse sine ignavi\u00e2 diverticulorum. Respondeo, si\ncuncta parata sint, intra triduum nos profecturos. Rursus interrogat,\nanne velim eum omnia, quae vict\u00fbs caus\u00e2 sunt commoda, praeparare: ego\nautem assentior. 311. Crastino die, dum aliis in rebus absum, Secutor\nhaedum jugulat, sanguinem in agello suo diffundit, cornua reservat,\nmembra discerpit; alia coquit, alia suspendit in fumo. Ungulas Elapsus\npro glutine arripit, pellemque incipit patrio more depsere. Haec\nrediens invenio obviam; sed neque probo neque culpo, quoniam veniam\nmeam praeripuerat Secutor. 312. Ad Elapsus conversus quaero, anne su\u00e2\nin patri\u00e2 tales sint capri, sive aliarum pellium abundantia. Respondet,\napud suos abundare ursulos, porcillos, immo porcos varii generis,\nmacacos, sciuros, et quadrupedes capris meis pares, paene aquaticos;\nex quibus pelles diversas habeant; porr\u00f2 formidandos sed raros pardos,\nquorum pellis optima sane: item audisse se, longe inter scopulosos\ncolles capros fere hujusmodi existere: se nunquam vidisse.--Lubet me\ntalia sciscitari et colloqui.\n313. Post biduum mihi nunciant, parata omnia: occidente sole\nnavigandum. Hic nuncius me quasi stupore defixit; nam mille res prius\nvidebantur conficiendae. Sed video me multa imperasse: nunc dicto\nobediendum: ergo de bellico apparatu prim\u00f9m satago, postpositis rebus\nceteris. 314. Mox repperio Secutorem lep\u014fres meos occ\u012bdisse, coxisso,\nsub crustul\u00e2 condidisse. Vultu angorem demonstro: sed ille, me commotum\nsentiens, humi cons\u012ddet tacitus, reprehensionem (credo) expectans.\nDem\u00f9m fract\u00e2 voce ait: \u201cPoenitet me, siquid te, here, laesi.\u201d Tum\nsuspirans dixi, \u201cMutari non potest: fortasse non male fecisti: ceter\u00f9m\nne canem meum occ\u012bdas. Ego ver\u00f2 tibi ignosco.\u201d 315. Ne longus sim, fere\nNonis Novembribus, sub noctem navigamus, nunc remis, nunc aur\u00e2 adjuti.\nAstris facile dirigebatur cursus ad meridiem. Quum vento tranquille\nferebamur, quieti me d\u0115di, jubens, si quid mutaretur, expergefacere.\nAnte lucem stagnavit aura; tunc evigilo; jubeo remigare. 316. Orto\nmox sole, Elapsus grumos patrios procul agnoscit: uterque moestior\nvidebatur: susurrabant inter se. Sed Elapsum dormire jubeo: ego cum\nSecutore propello scapham. Post horulam video Elapsum propter inquietam\nmentem non posse dormire; itaque Secutori impero somnum. Quando intra\nconspectum venimus, Elapsus in m\u0101lo erigit signum, apert\u00e2que arc\u00e2,\nregiis vestibus me exornat. Tum extracto cibo vesci hortatur. Secutor\nmox evigilat, et vescimur omnes, c\u0103ne non invito. 317. Jam linter a\nterr\u00e2 cauti\u00f9s appropinquat: tres inerant viri: credo, quia nos erant\ntres. \u201cQuid autem te tui cives vocant?\u201d Elapsum interrogo. \u201cEgo apud\neos\u201d inquit, \u201csum Gelavi.\u201d \u201cDehinc ergo apud me eris Gelavius,\u201d inquam.\n\u201cEgo vero apud meos eram Totopil,\u201d infit Secutor. \u201cErgo tu,\u201d inquam,\n\u201ceris Totopillus.\u201d Dum risu et alloquio oblectamur, accesserat linter:\nmox noster Gelavius nescio quid clar\u00e2 voce pronunciat. Illi gestientes\nstrepunt, proxime accedunt, me mirabundi aspectant. Postquam iterum\nperoravit Gelavius, illi rapide ad terram remigant, nos sequimur\ntardiuscule. Tandem, jubente Gelavio, ancoram jacimus: me viri mei,\nhonoris caus\u00e2, humeris suis in littus deportant. Stratis tapetibus,\nconsideo: sericam meam umbellam Totopillus super me praetendit;\nGelavius evanuerat. 318. Opper\u012bmur reditum ejus. Redit demum cum\ncaterv\u00e2 magn\u00e2. In fronte erat ipse, cum seniore viro et virgine. Tum\nme compellans a\u00eft, \u201cEn pater meus! En unica soror!\u201d Pater genua mea\nman\u016bsque fervide osculatus est, virgo quasi venerans constitit. Mox\nGelavius cum Totopillo verba secreto habet, post quae intimos credidi\nsermones misceri. Interea tota nobis caterva circumfunditur, mox\nad scapham se convertit. Id me aliquantum commovet. Gelavius autem\nmultas res, dona principi, effert; dein ignipultas meas cum sacculis\nsubsidiariis: mox Totopillum video scutulum pro met\u00e2 erexisse.\n319. Quinque juvenes cum arcubus astabant. A viginti passibus sagittas\nad scutulum direxere; nemo medium ferit, nemo per tabulam penetrat.\nDeinde Gelavius et Totopillus a triginta passibus e catapultis\njaculantur. Hi \u00e9t justius collineabant, et altius penetrabant:\nfacile erant victores. Postea ad me venerans accedit caterva,\norans ut ignipultae ostentem vim: tum mult\u00f2 cum honore ad carcer\nducunt. Quinquaginta passus metari jubeo: bitubam meam su\u00e2 cum furc\u00e2\ncomportaveram. Demisso genu, bis ignem ejicio: utraque glans medium\ntransverberat scutulum. Ejulabant territi, mox murmure collaudabant:\ndeinde magnum erat silentium. Gelavius tunc cunctis explicat, his\ntelis se per me fuisse servatum. 320. Inter haec Gelavii pater cum\nfili\u00e2 coram me redit, Totopillus autem pro interprete mihi explicat,\nvelle illum se suamque filiam fidei atque insulae meae committi. Tum\nego abrupti\u00f9s Totopillo, \u201cEgo-ne hanc pro tu\u00e2 uxore mecum reportabo?\u201d\nIs autem erubescens annuit: \u201cHere! reportabis sane, si libet, \u00e9t\nuxorem meam et patrem uxoris.\u201d \u201cAt vero,\u201d inquam, \u201cprincipi oportet me\nobviam venire honoris caus\u00e2, nec tanquam clanculum abire.\u201d Respondet\nTotopillus, \u201cImmo, id principi foret ingratum. Ille neque tibi vult\noffensam afferre, neque nimio erga te honore se suis elevare.[X] Sed\ndonis Gelavii placatus, honorificam coram multitudine de te fecit\nmentionem.\u201d 321. Jamque accurrit Gelavius, excitatus ut nunquam\nvideram. Hic secum habebat virum ac mulierem cum virgine. Me recta\npetit, et rem omnem aperit. \u201cEllam! quae mihi erat desponsa. Propter\nmei amorem nondum voluit nubere: en pater materque ejus! Tu-ne nolis, O\nhere! hanc meam familiam mecum revehere? Omnes sunt tui cupidissimi.\u201d\n\u201cEgo sane volo,\u201d inquam: \u201csed quot post horas?\u201d \u201cJam sunt parati,\u201d\nrespondet: \u201cad tenuem comportandam supellectilem vix semihor\u00e2 opus\nest.\u201d 322. Fateor, haec mihi nimia erant: velut in somnio esse videbar.\nTandem ministris meis dico: \u201cQuod bene vortat Deus, ex intimo pectore\ngratulor vobis. Nunc, ne tempestas se mutet, qu\u00e0m celerrime redeamus.\u201d\nIlli cum senioribus colloquuntur; tandem renunciant, tribus post\nmeridiem horis esse navigandum. Id admirans, aio non posse fieri.\n\u201cImmo,\u201d aiunt: \u201csic erit melius, ipso te judice.\u201d\n323. Video alias aliasque accedere lintres, et multa inter se parare.\nPraestitut\u00e2 hor\u00e2 scapham ingredimur, quinque viri, una mulier, duae\nvirgines, cum c\u0103ne optimo, quem pueri valde mirati sunt. Hospitum\nunusquisque spississimas suas vestes indutus est: stragulas quoque in\nscaph\u00e2 composuerant. Aura paullum erat adversa; sed octo lintres cum\nrobustis remigibus nos fune trahebant, tribus horis amplius. Simul ut\nAuster ventus flabat, Gelavius, multis actis gratiis, bonos remiges\nvalere jubet, munusculo qu\u014fque unumquemque proretam honorat, sed\ntant\u00e2 res tradidit celeritate, ut, quid dederit, nesciam scribere.\n324. Excusso remulco, v\u0113lis navigamus. Gelavius clavum tenet. Illud\ntantum narrabo, me propter concitationem mentis non potuisse dormire;\nGelavium, qui prius non potuit, post aliquot horas dormivisse optime.\nJucundissimam sensi noctis auram, et de futuro meditabar, non sine\nprecibus ac gratiis Deo oblatis. 325. Prim\u00e2 cum luce \u2e24montis nostri\nfiguram\u2e25 agnosco. Tandem Austro cessante, Subsolanus ventus surgit\nvehementior, torquetque nos nimium ad sinistram. Equidem nolebam\ntam pretiosum onus vel minimo periculo committere: igitur, quoniam\nnemo omnium erat invalidus, in hortorum portum direxi cursum. Ibi\nsumto matutino cibo, scapham Gelavio commisi, cum patre, quando\nfaveat ventus, circumducendam: ego cum ceteris domum revertor,\ncolles escendens. Nos ante meridiem cavernas assequimur: illi seri\u00f9s\nperveniunt. 326. Summam autem rupem dum pervadimus, fistul\u00e2 canendo\nrecolligo gregem. Desunt duo tant\u00f9m e junioribus. Hos crastino die\nTotopillus acerrime anquisitos recuperat, cane adjutore. Sic illa res\nfaustum habuit exitum.\nCAPUT (XII.) DUODECIMUM.\n327. Nomina novae familiae hic libet narrare. Gelavii pater erat\n_Pachus_, soror _Laris_. Sponsa autem Gelavii _Fenis_ appellabatur;\nhujus p\u0103rentes _Calefus_ et _Upis_. Upim credidi vix amplius\nquadraginta quatuor habere annos, et neque Pachum neque Calefum\nexsuperare quinquaginta. Biduum praeparandis nuptiis destinantur; quae\nquidem omnia ipsis relinquo. Nuncio tamen parentibus per interpretes\nmeos,--si quid vestis apud me sit, quod utendum velint sumere propter\nfilias suas, vel si quae de cavernis videantur pro cubiculis commodae,\nne graventur quidvis me rogare.\n328. Inter haec maximo cum gaudio accurrit Totopillus, nunciatque se\nalites tres, ex eo genere quod posset mansuescere, cepisse vivos. Atqui\nnon erant phasiani, neque, quantum ego poteram intelligere, otides;\nsed nostratium gallos gallinasque potius referebant, quanquam long\u00e8\nerant grandiores augustioresque, ac sane splendidi. Equidem Gallum\nIndicum pro nomine indidi. Libenter credebam, hoc avium genus numero\novorum apprime excellere: tum mansuefacienda decerno. Mas unus erat,\nduae feminae: nesciebam, anne pares numero conjuges esse deberent:\nsed Totopillo imperavi, asservaret omnes summ\u00e2 cum sedulitate,\ndaretque operam, ut proles gigneretur plurima ac mansueta. Ipsum erat\ngenus alitum, quod olim mihi Gelavius denotaverat. 329. Quando autem\nfructuarium meum intro, fures ibi video res despoliasse. Cocorum\naliquot nuces, sacculo quodam discisso, abreptae fuerant: id sine dubio\nmacacorum erat opus. Atque ante\u0101, me absente, unam nucem surripuerat\nmacacus, neque, qui rem vidit Totopillus, poterat prohibere. Alias\nres mire disjectas suis e locis invenimus: feles inculpat Totopillus.\nEquidem non credo: sed ille urget vehementer, petitque ut liceat unam\nreservare felem cum pusillo mare, ceteras abigere: ego vero, ne nimium\nadversarer, tandem permisi.\n330. Exploratis cavernis, tres pro conjugalibus cubiculis destinantur:\nsed quoniam opera quaedam pri\u00f9s videbantur necessaria, meo ipsius\ncubiculo cedo. Hoc atque museum novis nuptis permitto, fructuarium\nCalefo et Upi: ego in armamentario dormio. Nuptias suo fere in more\ntransigunt: sed postquam uterque pater sponsum sponsam suam osculari\njussit, (id quod solemnes ceremonias mihi videbatur terminare,) ego,\nindutus regium vestitum, peroraturus assurrexi, jussique Gelavium\ninterpretari. 331. Dixi me, Dei nomine, in meam eos insulam convexisse,\nut forent beati, me regente: ceter\u00f9m obsequentiam postulo: jamque\nimprimis, mea lingua est ab omnibus perdiscenda, et quantum fieri\npotest, semper dehinc h\u00e2c in insul\u00e2 audietur.--Tum Gelavio et Totopillo\nimpero, ut prandium nuptiale apponatur. Post prandium, in rupem\nambulabant, mirantes insulam. Vespere, obortis tenebris, e corrupto\npulvere nitrato aliquot ego _pyrobolos_ cremavi, gestientibus barbaris.\nSic confectae sunt nuptiae.\n332. Jam ego Upi matres antilopas, a c\u0103ne vigilanter custoditas,\ndemonstraveram, et de mulgendi arte conatus eram explicare. Ea curam\nlactariam acerrime suscipit: duae autem erant matres cum haediculis,\nnec multum sane expectabam lactis, quanquam corpore erant grandiores.\nEadem _cassavam_ panem ex manioc\u00e2 et _tapiocam_ optime conficiebat. Mox\nCalefus pollicetur nova vasa fictilia, ac meliora quidem, se facturum;\natque ego de caseo, de butyro, de lactis flore, quidquid noveram, per\nTotopillum communico, sed caseum praesertim censeo faciendum. Item\nplumbum liquefactum, ad vitream vasorum superficiem quantum conferat,\ndemonstro. 333. Pachus instrumenta agri colendi atque omnem rem\nferrariam vehementer admiratur: mox per Gelavium edoctus, princeps\nevadit faber ferrarius, item agricola. Calefus operam figulinam,\nlorariam, funariam poti\u00f9s exercebat; materiam quoque caedebat lubens.\nTotopillus, ut antea, culinae se dabat: item calo erat atque auriga,\net hortulanus et lanius et auceps. Multam hic habuit in condendis\ndecipulis peritiam. Nunquam ego ne unum quidem cuniculum resticulis\npotui capere; at Totopillus porcillos plurimos, aves innumerabiles,\nlaqueis convolutis aut suspensis capiebat: hinc illae coenarum\ndeliciae, illa pennarum plumarumque copia, quam miratus eram; hinc\nnuperrime gallus Indicus cum gallinis. Etenim Gelavius patrio suo\nregulo vestem pulcerrimam, e multicoloribus avium plumis contextam,\ndono dedit, qualis in Angli\u00e2 caballi pretium afferret.\n334. Video porro me ipsum, velut in Brazili\u00e2 quondam, oportere nunc\npro operarum praefecto esse. Nauticam quidem rem ipse pro me suscepi;\nsed in nendo e foliis filum, in complicando cannas, juncos,--multa\nfaciebant feminae. Linamenta lucernarum torquent, oleam palmarum\nexprimunt. E lignari\u00e2 fabrorum arte pleraque jam Gelavius exercebat et\nquidquid juberem, perficiebat prudentissime. In viminibus cannisque\ncontexendis peritissimi erant omnes. Hic autem loci affirmare oportet\nquid de barbaris sentiam, non omnibus, sed multis, quos nos Angli\nnimium contemnimus. Erras valde et pessime consulis, si longe ex\nipsorum consuetudine velis eos detorquere; attamen hunc errorem si\ndeclinas,--si aperte ingenue fideliter juste agas,--multo fideliores\ntibi erunt qu\u00e0m quis putaverit; mox miram sagacitatem, gratos animos\ngenerososque, aliasque virtutes neutiquam spernendas deprehendes summam\ninter barbariem. Nos autem, heu lugubri fato! nostra communicamus\nvitia, illosque dediscimus nativas ipsorum virtutes; dein incertis\nex causis inimicitiae insurgunt, donec hostile odium mitia commercia\npessumdet. 335. Prima autem mihi cura post nuptias erat, ut \u2e24res\ncomparatas\u2e25 melius ordinarem, unamquamque suo in loculo. Novas ut ollas\nlargioresque praepararet Calefus, urgebam, argillamque unde haberet,\nindicavi. Ego autem, quoniam veteres non sufficiunt arc\u00e6, majus\nquiddam, armarii instar, eum mensis interioribus, condo. Fores illas\ndiaetae nauticae principalis, quae supra biennium apud me jacuerant,\npro hujus armarii foribus adhibeo. Illud opus me per sex dies exercuit.\nTotopillum jussi curatissime deligere, quid primum deberet consumi,\nquid in saccharo conservandum, quid per se posset consistere. Is autem\ndioscoreis, maniocis, cucumibus in novo agello per se dedit operam.\nQuoties aliquid aut piscium aut carnis erat consumendum, plures\ndidicerat reservare reliquias, quibus \u2e24elixis propter canem ac feles\u2e25\nmassae farinulentae vel alius cibus gustum derivarent idoneum. 336. Mox\nde oleo ac saccharo erat providendum, deque _sagone_ (quod appellant)\net de cer\u00e2 palmarum. Palmis aliquot succisis, aut farinulentam medullam\naut ceram habebamus: folia, cannas, stipites, ad suos quidque usus\nadhibemus. Maximam autem et olei et sacchari copiam jam nunc censui\nparandam. Saccharum Gelavius, optimum illud quidem, e palm\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam\naff\u0103tim detulit: _Borassum Flabelliformem_, ut nunc audio, appellant\narborem. 337. Post haec de agricultur\u00e2 dubitabam. _Zeam_ qu\u00e0m maxime\naccurandam opinabar. _Oryzae_ plantas in hortis dixi invenisse\nGelavium; sed illam culturam min\u00f9s esse salubrem credidi, nec posse\nnisi uvidissimo in loco exerceri. Attamen Pachus et Calefus orant, ut\nsibi liceat hanc rem administrare: itaque ipsis remisi, simul indicans\nzeam a me oryzae anteponi. 338. Pachus in cavernis ordinandis strenuum\nse praebet. Feminae, adjuvante Gelavio et materiem suppeditante,\nin vestibus nectendis valde erant industriae; mox dato _sapone_,\nvestimenta lavare edocui. Tandem, post duos fere menses, tota mea\nfamilia suas habebat sedes, satis ornatas, suasque operas.\n339. Tantis adjumentis suffultus, poteram esse otiosior, immo\nsegnior: nec laetior tamen eram. \u201cQuorsum haec?\u201d interrogabam. \u201cNum\ntota mea vita sic est degenda,--res opimas colligendo, consumendo? An\nmeliorem aliquam religionem potero his barbaris impertire? Tentandum\nest fortasse: sed linguam meam imprimis perdiscant oportet. Anne\nhorum oper\u00e2 ecquando patriam recuperabo meam?\u201d Talibus exerc\u012dtus\ncogitationibus moestior fiebam ac taciturnior: id vero sentio pessimi\nesse exempli. Etenim nisi multum colloquar, ne Gelavius quidem nec\nTotopillus garrient Anglic\u0113; tum c\u0113teri non poterunt discere. Statuo\nfabellis ac narratiunculis, quoties coenamus, abundare; et, cum Gelavio\nimprimis, item cum Totopillo, de religione sermones habere seorsim.\n340. Equidem jam pridem de me\u00e2 ipsius histori\u00e2 quaedam, praecipue\nde naufragio, illis narraveram; sed plurima tunc par\u00f9m intellexere,\natque iterum audire avebant. Nunc autem prim\u00f9m clare dixi quondam\nfuisse me Mauri hominis barbari servulum; id quod animos eorum adeo\nperculit, ut singula quaeque audire cupiverint magnopere. Ego autem\nquae plures per dies tunc narravi, non celarem lectorem meum, nisi\ndictu longiuscula forent. Profecto illa serv\u012dtus crudum meum et\npraeferocem animum salubriter mitigavit; et quoniam herum non crudelem\nhabui, multa tum didici sub Experienti\u00e2 magistr\u00e2. Porro ill\u00e2 in terr\u00e2\ncaloribus assuevi, imm\u00f2 robustior fiebam. Sol orae Marocanae, nostro\nlonge acrior, aur\u00e2 Oceani temperatur, neque nobis est insaluber, modo\ncaput fasci\u00e2 sindonis involvas, et vino abstineas prors\u00f9s. Illic quoque\nplurima didici de frugibus, de oleribus, de fruticibus, quae postea\nerant utilia. Plurimas res item minore didici apparatu facere, qu\u00e2m qu\u00f4\napud nos fiunt. Quippe ferramenta agrestia, domesticam supellectilem,\ninstrumentum culinae, pistrini, fabricae,--offendi illic rudiora omnia;\nsed Necessitas inventrix multa simpliciter conficit, quae fato quodam\nmeo discebam. Denique ipso industriae fructu superbiens, strenuus\noperis evasi, versutus ad excogitandum patiensque laboris. 341. Sed ad\nrem redeo. Aliud quoque jam aequum videbatur. Quoniam continuus labor\nad vitam non jam erat necessarius, festique aliquot dies ipsis barbaris\nassolent, septimus dies (quem _primum_ vel _Domini_ diem appellamus)\nCristianorum more debebat tandem distingui; ex quo religionis aliqua\nposset cura exoriri. Itaque Kalendario meo recensito, quisnam sit\n\u201cdies Domini\u201d discerno: tum subditis meis ed\u012bco, ut festus sit hic\ndies: quo die item coram me post matutinum cibum congregentur. Ego\nregium monile gerens, precem brevem Numini Supremo pronuncio, ut suo\nhalitu mentes nostras purget; illum quoque ipsius propter virtutes\nadoro: postea litterarum rudimenta cunctos doceo, ut novam linguam\nprofundi\u00f9s animis defigam. 342. Si pluvia cadit, in mus\u0113o congregamur;\nego in tabulam ligneam cret\u00e2 scribo: sin serenum est caelum, ubi arena\nsubtilis ac plana est potissim\u00f9m, ibi radio maximas designo litteras.\nEa imprimis vocabula, quae saepissime pronunciantur, docui scribere,\nut nomina rerum, Homo, Vir, Femina, C\u0103nis, Panis; ut verba communia,\nFac, Dic, Da mihi, V\u0115ni, Abi; ut pronomina, Ego, Tu, Nos, Vos, Hic,\nIlle, Sic.--Primo quidnam vellem faceremve, par\u00f9m intelligebant; sed\nquum \u012bdem sonus e\u00e2dem cum litter\u00e2 saepi\u00f9s audiebatur, sentiebam eos\nexcitari. Gelavius primus orabat, ut sibi liceret rem iterare. Dein\nincipit a Me, Te, Se; item Nos, Vos, Hi, Hos, Sic, Dic; et postqu\u00e0m bis\nterque est a me edoctus, optime perdidicit brevia vocabula tot, quot\nomnibus elementis comprehendendis sufficerent. Mox ego totam litterarum\nseriem, in parv\u00e2 chart\u00e2 conscriptam, ipsi trado. 343. Gelavius sane\net Totopillus, qui quae dicerem intelligebant, longe celeri\u00f9s ipsas\ndiscebant litteras. Hos amplius indies edocui. Proximo die Dominico\nceteris ipsi praecipiebant. Tandem furor discendi cunctos pervasit\nmagnus, quando hos viderunt \u00e9t intelligere et pro magistris esse: sed\nmulta non poterant leg\u0115re, qui paucissima vocabula noverant. 344. Mox a\nme exquirit Gelavius, ex qu\u00e2nam re conficiatur charta. Ego de papyro,\nde lino, de gossypio facio certiorem; explico item de membran\u00e2 sive\npergamen\u00e2. Multa poste\u0101 folia grandiuscula ad me reportat, siccat in\nsole, premit, l\u0113vigat; juncos item aqu\u00e2 maceratos contundit, gummi\nmiscet, explanat, chartas meas imitans, sed par\u00f9m res cessit: tandem e\npraegrandibus palmae cujusdam foliis satis bonam censet haberi chartam.\nDixi huic arundines ac pennas avium pro calamis scriptoriis sufficere,\npro atramento succum sepiae; gummi addendum, si liquor in chart\u00e2\nnimis difflueret. Ille confirmat, nunquam sibi defuturum scribendi\ninstrumentum, mod\u00f2 artem ipsam mente arripuerit. Jam unam quotidie\nhoram litteras eum doceo. Die Domini quaecunque nova vocabula ceteri\ndidicerint, ea doceo scribere; paullatimque, quum plura intelligunt,\nquaedam de religione incipio inculcare.\n345. Cum Gelavio liberi\u00f9s de rebus divinis loquebar. Quidquid de\nDeo Creatore, de lege morali atque officiis, de sancto Dei judicio,\nde ejusdem in sanctos grati\u00e2 dicerem, id omne illi facile esse et\nquasi naturale comperio: etiam de immortalitate humani animi (id quod\nmirabar) jam eredebat. Sed quoties auderem de Cristo, de Moyse, de\nJudaeis narrare, otiosus audiebat, quasi qui miraretur quid haec ad se\nattinerent: aliquando fortiter contr\u00e0 dicebat. Tandem diffisus posse me\ntantis argumentis suam impertire gravitatem, abstinui, ne profundius me\ndemergerem.\n346. Non absurdum erit narrare, quantum Pachus su\u00e2 arte ferrari\u00e2\nfeminas adjuverit. Erant e meo instrumento ac\u016bs quaedam minores, item\nmajores sarcinariae. Has Pachus multum admiratur. Minores nequit\nimitari, sed utriusque formae plures procudit grandes, quas exacuit\npolitque satis pulcre, oculis recte pertusis. Unicuique feminae dono\ndat tres formae utriusque: his vestes, tegetes, stragula consuunt.\n347. Gelavius ident\u012ddem quaerit ex me, numne poeniteat me, qu\u00f2d\nplures sumus: num velim ad tres viros rurs\u00f9m redigi: num si pro octo\noctoginta forenus, id oporteret dolere: num malim paucorum esse qu\u00e0m\nplurimorum regulus. Nesciebam quorsum haec intenderent: subesse\nquiddam mihi videbatur. Demum interrogo direct\u00e0, anne consulto talia\nloquatur. Tum modeste ac candide respondet: \u201cO here! talis est hujus\ninsulae jucunditas, talis omnium rerum copia atque commoditas, talis\ntua ipsius benevolentia, aequitas, sapientia; ut ego populares meos\nvellem sane multos hisce rebus mecum frui. Nec dubito fore ut illi\nvelint eadem, si mod\u00f2 liceret: tuum erit dicere, si id licebit\nnunquam.\u201d Haec quum responderet, haesitavi consilii incertus. Mox dixi:\n\u201csane suis esse illum benevolum: ego quid velle, quid nolle deberem,\nid mihi ipsi neutiquam l\u012bqu\u0115re.\u201d Notavi poste\u0101 cunctos, ultra quod\nnecesse erat, ampliare culturam. Id ipsum ante\u0101 fecisse Totopillum\nmemineram, tum quum hancce coloniam clam meditabantur: itaque credo\nomnes eandem fovere spem, quam indicaverat Gelavius. Hoc me male\nhabet, ne nimis adverser, neve periculosum quidpiam gratificer. 348.\nIterum e Gelavio quaero quot novos colonos tut\u00f2 posse venire credat,\net qu\u00e2nam sub lege: num tot mod\u00f2 quot in un\u00e2 famili\u00e2 nobiscum aetatem\npossint degere.--Respondet, \u201csemper se credere, fore ut ego in patriam\nrestituar: quippe, ubi una venerit navis, aliquando tandem venturam\nesse alteram. Tum se suosque, optimo defensore orbos, parvam manum\npollentibus barbaris relinqui: nam hos quoque aliquando venturos, nec,\nnisi aut igneis telis aut majore caterv\u00e2, posse abigi. Tot erga novas\nfamilias, quot firmo sint praesidio, esse optandas. Mille viros nimis\nmultos non fore, sed quinquaginta contra ejectamenta maris sufficere.\u201d\nInterrogo, quid sibi velint maris ejectamenta. Sic ille explicat, ut\ndicat, \u201cviros qui in scaphis per cas\u016bs maris h\u00f9c advehantur inviti.\u201d\nVis ergo (inquam) quinquaginta importare familias? \u201cSi liceret,\nvellem,\u201d respondet. At Gelavi! (rursus aio) id non per me licebit.\nPropter locos, arbores, antilopas, pisces, aves, nulla non erit pugna\natrox. Nemo mihi obtemperabit nemo intelliget: ego inter primos\nocc\u012bdar. 349. \u201cAh, ne talia fingas,\u201d (inquit): \u201cne metuas, here! Pri\u00f9s\ncerte ego moriar: sed non n\u00f4sti meam gentem.\u201d Dic quomodo (inquam).\n\u201cPrim\u00f9m, here! (respondet) homines sumus, non bestiae; itaque \u00e8t Deum\net principem veneramur. Quisquis fortitudine, prudenti\u00e2, justiti\u00e2\nexcellit, hunc extollere, decorare, sequi amamus. Talis tu es vir, qui\nstrenue ac juste regere calles. Nostrorum virorum quot te noverint, te\nprae nostris regulis omnibus anteponent. Dein, audi, quaeso, ampli\u00f9s.\nSummi nostri reguli patruus est Cortops qu\u012bdam, optimus ille quidem\nvir, sed fratris filium sibi praeponi aegr\u0113 fert, habetque factionem\nnon parvam. Mitis est ac senior vir; filii autem ejus omnes praelio\noccubant. Is profecto talem in insulam colonos deducere vehementer\ncupiat: immo, id ipsum audivi, ac credo. Jam si h\u00f9c adveniret, ille et\nsuos cunctos facile regeret, et tibi obsequeretur officiosissime. Tum\nomnia illa de locis, arboribus, antilopis, ex consuetudine nostr\u00e2 ac\nsine pugn\u00e2 ordinabuntur.\u201d Optime causam dicis, O Gelavi (respondeo) et\ncallide adularis; sed nimi\u00e2 me solicitudine tota haec res excruciaret:\nquare amplius de e\u00e2 ne colloquamur.\n350. Nos autem, ita ut dixi, cursum nostrum tenebamus, nec poenitebat\nme meorum subditorum. Singula narrare de tot hominibus, longum foret.\nOmnia quae egomet inveneram, paullatim discunt; sed Pachus novam rem\nreperit. Per Gelavium a me exquisiverat, unde veniret ferrum. Dixi, e\nmontibus effodi, ejusque aspectum esse, tanquam in humum influxisset,\nmassasque humi su\u00e2 gravitate implevisset. Post aliquot dies laetus\nrenunciat, ferrum a se in monte repertum. Ostendit marram, novo quodam\nmetallo crustatam. Explicant mihi, vidisse eum, in ulteriore altissimi\nillius montis latere, rivulum quendam discolorem, turbidum: marr\u00e2\npostqu\u00e0m conciverit, hanc concrevisse crustam. Video non ferream esse\ncrustam illam, sed aheneam. Respondeo, posse hoc multi esse us\u00fbs,\nquanquam non sit ferrum; amplius oportere examinari. Poste\u0101 doceo tale\naes colligere et fabricare, quoties usus venerit.\n351. Hiems hujus regionis praeterierat. Calidior tempestas\nappropinquabat; quotidiani imbres augescebant. Die quodam Martii\n\u2e24solito acri\u00f9s\u2e25 flabat ventus et continenter per noctem duravit. Sub\nipsum mane per tenuem pluviam ego cum Totopillo cocorum s\u012dnum vers\u00f9s\npergebam, atque a specul\u00e2 me\u00e2 video lintrem terrae appropinquantem.\nEgrediuntur duo viri, una femina: tot modo inerant. Video protinus\npiratas non esse hos: viri defessi esse videntur, femina algescere.\nHaec ubi a vento protegatur, vestibus contectam collocant: ipsi\nvagantur, ramos aspectantes, ut qui cibum anquirunt. 352. Pistolas\nmecum habui, sed nihil erat quod timerem. Ramulo arboris raptim\nabscisso, hunc elate gerens, cum Totopillo descendi, ciebamque eos\nclamore: neque illi a nobis fugerunt. Jussi Totopillum colloqui, si\nforte intelligerent. Is cito confirmat, esse eos Gelavii populares,\nvento abreptos, jamque fame, labore, frigore enectos. Nolui, in portum\nadmissis, secreta dom\u00fbs aperire: sed jussi eum dicere, \u201ccibum iis\nmissum iri,\u201d et ipsum juxt\u0101 manere. Ego actut\u00f9m redeo, tum Gelavium\nremitto cum cibo, uxoremque ejus cum spissis siccisque vestibus. Ipsi\nfrustra conantur ignem fovere. Fenis et Totopillus apud eos morantur:\nGelavius illico ad me redit: sic jussi. Tum colloquimur.\n353. Ego aio: si per ventum non poterunt ante noctem regredi, nunquam\nregredi debere, ne plures poste\u0101 in nos reportent, pervulgato insulae\narcano.--Is laudat consilium meum, mod\u00f2 possit fieri. Mox addit:\nvelle se qu\u012ddem plures insulae cives; sed invitos retinere, nisi\nvincias, fore lubricum; nam posse aliquando scapham meam furari.--Id\nme perculit, nec quidquam ultra dixi: tamen eundem illum in s\u012dnum\nhospites c\u00f6ercere statuo. Fenis autem rediens ait, sibi illam feminam\nantea notam esse, et vero dilectam, atque ejus se misereri. 354. Quando\nrefoti sunt, tertio die de reditu consulitur. Erat sane difficilis\nlintri reditus, si ventus e\u00e2dem ex regione perstaret flare, quamvis\nclementer. Imperavi ut nemo retineret eos, nemo abigeret, sed suis\nrelinquerentur consiliis. Multas nobis gratias agunt, viatico accepto,\naiuntque velle se, ut primum possint, domum redire. Quarto dem\u00fam die\nevanuerant, sub noctem regressi.\n355. Haec erant in mense Martio, neque ego tunc suspicabar qu\u00f2\nme invitum divina duceret Providentia: nam novos colonos arcessere\npertinaciter nolui, quamvis timerem ne meis forem iniquus: sed\nsollicitudo acris semper me vetabat. Continuabantur menses, et nostra\nomnium opera. Praeteriere suo in ordine genialis pluvia ac foeda\ntempestas: terti\u00f9m jam mihi redibat siccior aestatis pars. Nos quidem\nin fructibus colligendis tum maxime fuimus occupati. 356. En autem\nipso Sextili mense, dum cum Calefo et Totopillo per rupem incedo, e\nsaltu prodeunt duo viri barbari. Pistol\u00e2 corrept\u00e2, jubeo Totopillum\neos compellare. Respondent, \u201camicos esse se, et regem insulae\namicissime petere.\u201d Jubeo, mei honoris caus\u00e2, tela in humum projicere:\nprojiciunt. Tunc ut amicos saluto, recipere tela jubeo, et dicere\ncur, unde, venerint. Totopillus, parum facile, tamen interpretatur\nresponsa. Senior autem e duobus illis, mitis aspectu vir, qui fere\nseptuaginta habere videbatur annos, in hunc modum loquitur. \u201cEgo sum\nCortops. Cum quindecim lintribus venio, octo et viginti familiis, ut\ntu\u00e2 veni\u00e2 cum bon\u00e2 pace consideamus h\u00e2c in insul\u00e2, tibi pro summo\nprincipe obtemperaturi. Ceteros infr\u00e0 rel\u012bqui, dum tua reportamus\njussa. Agrum autem ex tu\u00e2 abundanti\u00e2 a te oramus.\u201d Quia de re inopinat\u00e2\nillic\u00f2 respondere erat difficile, mult\u00f9m salvere jussi; h\u00ecc in saltu\nrequiesceret paulisper: honoris caus\u00e2 hos duos meorum apud eum\nrelinqui: me celeriter cum servis cibisque rediturum: tum nos de omni\nh\u00e2c re l\u012bb\u0115re collocuturos. 357. Itaque decessi solus. Proditum me\ncredidi. Gelavius sine dubio nuncium Cortopi per illos viros miserat,\nquoniam me obstinatum sensit. Tamen si triginta viri armati jam in\nterram expositi erant, per vim telorum mal\u00e8 resisto palam: arte et\nsolerti\u00e2 est opus. Aut suadere debeo ut protenus abeant, aut deliberare\nquo tandem pacto minimo cum periculo maneant, sive ad tempus, sive in\nperpetuum. 358. Interim irascor Gelavio et incipio objurgare. Ille\nadmirans, obnixe ac simplicissime negat quidquam nuncii se aut misisse\naut missum velle; idque iteravit tam anxie, ut nequiverim persistere.\nJam hunc cum Pacho cibos ac dona aliquot relaturum mitto. Ipse, regalia\nassumens, memini Fenim fuisse feminae illius amicam. Igitur, miss\u00e2 ad\neam Lari, arcesso, et irat\u00e2 voce interrogo, quidnam hospiti dixerit.\nIlla, quanquam mal\u00e8 loqueretur, tamen, quae dicebam, satis intellexit.\n359. Effusa in lacrimas respondet, se, ab amic\u00e2 su\u00e2 rogitatam, anne\ncommode se h\u00ecc haberet, dixisse; \u201cImmo optime: sane se esse beatissimam\nsub benignissimo ac justissimo principe in jucundissim\u00e2 insul\u00e2.\u201d Talia\neam velle dicere, sermone quamvis incond\u012dto, intellexi. \u201cAn nihil\naliud dixisti?\u201d interrogo. \u201cSane plurima,\u201d inquit. Quid ergo? \u201cAt\nego nescio.\u201d--Nonne tu nuncium ad Cortopem misisti, ut h\u00f9c v\u0115niret?\n\u201cCerte nihil tale auderem (inquit) neque ausa sum.\u201d Sed neminem tu h\u00f9c\ninvit\u00e2sti? \u201cOh here (respondet), invitavi neminem; tant\u00f9m, ut credo,\namicae meae dixi,--Vellem ipsam et qu\u00e0m plurimos meorum sub optimo\nte principe esse beatos, velut memet.\u201d Postquam experior nihil ultra\nsciscitando extorqueri, vultum compono: bono animo eam esse jubeo: dein\negredior. 360. Incedens simul reputo. Si re ver\u00e2 propter famam mei, non\npropter cupiditatem m\u0103lam, tot viri veniunt; tum ver\u00f2, si prorsus eos\nvenisse nolim, ipse memet objurgare debeo, qu\u00f2d non fuerim injustior;\nneque ade\u00f2 sunt timendi, qui ad imperata perferenda festinant. Meae\nme laudes fortasse emolliebant: nulla convincitur proditio. Tum illud\nsurgit:--quatuor ope virorum nunquam hic navem fabricabor: si redire\nad patriam vol\u014f, per plures id debet confici. Quid si nunc plures Deus\nipse ad me misit? Ego-ne illos abigam, in aeternam memet redacturus\nbarbariem? Reputans talia, cum alio prorsus animo ad Cortopem reverti,\nqui cibos jam confecerat, et cane meo, propter offulas blandienti, se\noblectabat. 361. Nunciatur mihi, cunctam ejus plebem esse in portu\nhortorum; sub arboribus a calore protegi: habere secum maximum zeae\natque oryzae numerum, item maniocarum; coria quoque comportare et\nmaximas vestes, tegetesque quae malignam imbrium vim possint arcere:\nquadraginta duos viros puerosve esse, septem et quinquaginta feminas:\nCortopis omnes dicto obedire: ipsum Cortopem mihi profecto velle\nsubmitti, constanter autem a me orare sedem idoneam.--Responsum feci\nplenum benevolenti\u00e2. Pollicitus sum, illic\u00f2 me demissurum, qui ligna\nsecaret in focos, atque alterum qui plura \u2e24cibo commoda\u2e25 distribueret,\nvelut oleum, sal, aromata: tertium qui ollas cacabosque ferret. Interim\nme de sede dand\u00e2 meditaturum.--Mox nos redimus cavernas vers\u00f9s, duo\nilli viri ad suos. Quando animadverti auram extra ordinem a meridie\ncontinuari modicam, melius censeo ut in scaph\u00e2 \u2e24Gelavius cum patre\nsoceroque\u2e25 supellectilem ac cibum portet. Gelavius \u2e24minoribus gemmis\nfulgens\u2e25 me repraesentat. Hic lignum secat, illi prandium properant.\n362. Ego autem sub seric\u00e2 umbell\u00e2 propter fastum ac calorem tectus,\nad Caprinum jugum deflecto, atque, inde prospectans, novae coloniae\ndecerno longam illam oram subter jugo, cum primo sinu citra Lunatam\nViam, si eo quoque \u0115g\u0113rent. Sed ora illa facile suffectura erat.\nPostulo ut septimus quisque dies pro festo habeatur; ut, quot possint,\nillo die coram me veniant; ut Cortops quater in anno, ad minimum, me\nveneraturus adeat; ut mea lingua pro imperatori\u00e2 lingu\u00e2 aestimetur,\nquam cuncti, ut prim\u00f9m possint, discant el\u014fqui. His acceptis legibus,\nproximo die circumremigant, suamque capiunt sedem.\n363. Paullo p\u00f2st clari\u00f9s denoto; quidquid sit ill\u00e2 in or\u00e2, Cortopis\nesse, sine ull\u00e2 exceptione. Quaslibet aves, quoslibet pisces, ill\u00e2\ntant\u00f9m in or\u00e2, pro suis oportere eum aestimare. Sin ultra lineam\naltissimi jugi Caprini voluerit venari aut fructum terrae percipere, id\nmecum amplius deliberandum. Si quid in monte velit seminari, id liberum\nesse; et quidquid coluerit quispiam, id fore cultoris.--Has quoque\nleges comprob\u00e2runt: tum ego sollicitudinem deponebam.\n364. Mox ligones, secures, dolabras plurimas deligo, item marras\naliquot et cultros mensales, quos Cortopi dono dem, suae plebi ad suum\narbitrium distribuendos. Cultrum, furcam et cochleare, splendidiore\nspecie, ipsi destino Cortopi. Sacchari aliquantum et olei addo, item\naromata. Has res ille cupidissime ac multis cum gratiis accipit. Tum,\nne gemmis Gelavius praeluceat, monili pulcrius variato exorno Cortopem.\n365. Postea aliud quiddam mihi arrogo:--Si hostes hanc in insulam\ndescendant, ut sub Cortope cuncti imperata mea perficiant, conferantque\nsubsidia belli.--Id quoque facile conceditur. Tum citrea atque aurea\nm\u0101la, cocos nuces uvasque siccatas, et conservatarum ananassarum ollas\nad Cortopem demitto.\nCAPUT (XIII.) TREDECIMUM.\n366. Jamque post violentam concitationem res ad suos cursus redi\u0113re.\nSexdecim p\u00f2st diebus aestas procellis abrumpitur: piget me qu\u00f2d\ncavernis hospites carent. Ego autem de me\u00e2 lingu\u00e2 intrudend\u00e2 praesertim\nsollicitabar. Prima mea colonia et linguam non absurde et litteras\nparce didicerat: nunc meditor qu\u00f4 possim pact\u00f4 easdem novae plebi\nimpertire. Quando cum Gelavio colloquor, rogat ille, utrum velim eum\nassentiri obedienter, an loqui l\u012bb\u0115re. L\u012bb\u0115re autem (inquam) loqui.\n367. Tum infit: \u201cNos, here, tua familia, te et mult\u00f9m audivimus et\nvalde amamus: igitur in lingu\u00e2 litterisque profecimus meli\u00f9s. Tamen\nnimius fuit ille conatus, nec nisi propter tui amorem tolerabilis. Duas\nres un\u00e0 postulas, utramque difficilem. Crede mihi, longe praestat,\nut de lingu\u00e2 tu\u00e2 paullum differatur. Nostram poti\u00f9s nos linguam\nprim\u00f9m litteris exprimere discamus: postea quidquid e tu\u00e2 didicerint\nlingu\u00e2 (et discent multa paullatim) cupient ipsi scribere.\u201d 368. Haec\naudiens, quasi obstupui. Quid? (inquam): tune linguam barbaram vis\nlitteris effingere, et quantum possis, in perpetuum defigere?--Acriter\nrespondet: \u201cNostrae tu, here, nescius es linguae, qui barbaram vocas.\nLingua est copiosa, delicata, subtilis, tenerrima, sono mollissima, usu\ngravissima: immo, quantum conjicere possim, tu\u00e2 sane praestantior.\u201d\nQuid ais? inquam. Ego non n\u014dvi tuam linguam: recte dicis. Sed cur\ncredis eam meae antecellere? \u201cEn (ait) quando tu _Nos_ dicitis, ego\nillud _Nos_ per quatuor vocabula interpretor. Nam aut _Ego ac tu_\nvalet, aut _Ego atque ille_, aut _Ego ac vos_, aut _Ego atque illi_.\nHic quatuor sunt, quae tua lingua in unum illud _Nos_ confundit; nostra\npulcerrime distinguit _Bini_, _Bili_, _Binir_, _Bilir_. Nonne hanc\nrecte dico magis hic esse subtilem, accuratam, copiosam?\u201d Assentior.\n\u201cItem _Vos_ (pergit dicere) duas confundit res; nam aut valet _Tu\ncum ceteris quos compello_, aut _Tu cum quibusdam absentibus_. Hic\niterum nostrates duo habent vocabula, _Vinir_, _Dinir_. Jam tu de\n_fronte contrahend\u00e2_ loqueris; unam hanc a te didici locutionem: nos\nquatuor habemus verba simplicia. Nam frontem contraho aut propter\nlucem nimiam, aut meditabundus, aut cum maerore, aut cum maliti\u00e2: nos\nquadrifariam dicimus ac simpliciter.\u201d Perge ultra, (inquam). \u201cDeinde\ntu (inquit) de _demittendo capite_ loqueris: nos septem vel amplius\nmodis hoc pronunciamus. Nam caput demitto, prim\u00f9m ut hostile telum vel\nramum arboris devitem: deinde, ut venerer aliquem; tum, ut acuti\u00f9s\nprospeculer; quarto, ut assensum denotem; quinto, propter pudorem;\nsexto, per obstinatam contumaciam; septimo, in aquas descensurus;\nitem octavo, saltans. En octo nostratium vocabula, Metic, Rodic,\nFiarilic, Duthic, Lianic, Shanfic, Madiric, Reutic.\u201d--Immo, Gelavi!\n(inquam interpellans) linguam tu meam par\u00f9m novisti: nam nos _Annuere_\nadhibemus, assensum capitis demissi denotantes. 369. \u201cVerissime dixisti\nillud, here! (respondet). Non n\u014dvi tuam linguam, neque unquam plene\nnovero, nisi si possem renasci, et cum lacte matris carissimas voces\nhaurire; nisi possem cum pueris iterum colludere, in vestris ludis\nlitterariis discere; nisi possem in contione sapientium fervida captare\nverba, atque in foro, ubi res venditis, multos per menses nundinari.\nNisi de novo possem matris, sororis caritatem discere, et suaves amoris\nsusurros nunc prim\u00f9m tu\u00e2 in lingu\u00e2 audire, nunquam sic ego complectar\neam, ut tu corde atque animo complect\u0115ris.\u201d Fateor; vehementi\u00e2 ejus\nperculsus sum. Nihil tale expectaveram: itaque reticui. Tum addit,--\u201cO\nhere, noli succensere: sed ita se res habet. Lingua tua nobis in meram\nmentem v\u0115nit, quasi cum frigid\u00e2 luce. Nostra pectus tangit, animum\nerigit. Ut tuam nos, quantum possimus, discamus linguam, aequissime\npostulas; sed nostram quae tenerrimis nos memoriis perfundit, noli sic\nsurripere nobis, ut tuam manc\u0113 apprehendamus, fortasse foede laceremus.\u201d\n370. Nunquam antea suspicatus eram, qu\u00e0m sua cuique genti pretiosa\nesset lingua. P\u00f2st paullo fassus sum, mal\u00e8 me consuluisse, Gelavium\nrecte judicare: itaque jubeo, si possit, populares suos edocere, qu\u00f4\npacto ipsorum linguam litteris exprimant. Tum ille a me opem orat.\nDicit, meis litteris illorum sonos non omnino congruere; propterea,\nse haerere. Equidem non modo Lusitanic\u0113 multa de orthographi\u00e2 (quam\nappellant) cogitaveram; sed pri\u00f9s, quando Maurusi\u0113 discebam loqui,\nomnia Europaeis conscribebam litteris, mutatis additisque aliquot\nformis. 371. Igitur fere centum auditis perscriptisque vocibus, tandem\nquum autumat omnes linguae sonos se mihi pronunciasse, facile ei\ntotam seriem explico. Hoc ubi plurifariam probavit, crediditque rem\nconfectam, totum gregem nostrum edocet; illi alacriter arripiunt.\nPostea, die Domini, quando ceteri conveniunt, incipit horulam dare\nhuic rei impertiendae. Ego autem illo die contionor de rebus pluribus,\nquae possint mentes stimulare, excolere, firmare. 372. Illud laetus\nvideo, non esse segnes hos barbaros neque ventri aut temeto deditos.\nEtenim veloces esse et armis strenuos, id cuncti pro publico officio\naestimabant. Sed ludos sedulo iis commendo. Feminae nostrae quotidie\nnatabant, sed suo in grege: nos viri jam \u2e24duntaxat extra portum\u2e25\nnatamus. Ego sic jussi: namque ipsis non interesse videbatur. 373. At\nego jam decerno, igneorum telorum usum Gelavio ac Totopillo impertire,\nquo tutior fiam. Id summo cum gaudio accipiunt, ut documentum fiduciae\nmeae. Pulveris nitrati quia parcissimus fueram, aliquantum etiam\nrestabat. Hoc reparari posse desperans, quidquid potest sine dispendio\npulveris doceri, edoceo, atque illi acerrime artem meam assequi\nconantur. Totopillus de pulveris illius compositione acriter exquirit.\nCarbonem facile explico; sed quid sit nitrum, quid sulfur, nequeo\ninterpretari; nec, propter immane periculum, vellem eum componendi\nexperimentis se objicere. Itaque hoc pro arcano relinquitur. 374. H\u00e2c\naestate ego ac Pachus in pensilibus lectis super rupe dormiveramus:\nceteri tres cum uxoribus malunt in cavernis manere; neque ego prohibeo.\nPachum pro comite mecum assumo.\n375. Inter haec subita res iterum rotam meae vitae convertit,\net demum me p\u0103rentibus, mihi patriam reddidit. Ante lucem, tertio\nante Idus Decembres, bombus cannonis me expergefacit. Iteratur ter\nquaterque. Agnosco signum nav\u012ds, quae opem in periculo orat. Prim\u00e2\nluce per prospeculum contemplor, videoque navem magnam, quae in arenis\nlonge a terr\u00e2 haeret. Arbitror illas ipsas esse arenas, ubi, quatuor\nant\u00e8 annis ampli\u00f9s, nostra navis se impegit, confregitque m\u0101los.\nAttenti\u00f9s observans, credo unum m\u0101lorum esse confractum. Mox vexillum\ndiscerno: id erat Anglicum. Tum miro gaudio, moerore, spe afficior.\n376. Mare erat tranquillissimum: vix ulla tum flabat aura. Acie\noculorum content\u00e2, per prospeculum nihil video mot\u00fbs neque instantis\npericuli. Tum illud succurrit: Quidni possumus, pluribus connitentibus\nscaphis, remulcis navem ex aren\u00e2 detrahere? Gelavium jubeo properare\nad Cortopem, et meo nomine impense rogare, ut lintres suas cunctas\ncum remigibus robustissimisque remulcis ad navem mitteret, atque \u2e24a\nme dicta\u2e25 eos accipere juberet. 377. Protenus ego cum Totopillo et\nCalefo Pachoque in scapham ingredior: nos quatuor remigamus, quoniam\nventus deest. Cibum nondum gustaveramus, sed comportari jussi quidquid\nesset in promtu. Primi ad navem pertingimus, mox Anglic\u00e2 voce exquiro,\nubinam sit praefectus nav\u012ds. Illi mirabundi, et laetantes quanquam\ntanto in periculo, eum evocant. Narrat mihi, id quod ipse dispexeram.\nIn littus, nocte utique tranquill\u00e2, incurrerant, fregerantque m\u0101lum\nanteriorem. Etiam tum haerebant, timebantque ne surgente vento\nobruerentur. Dico me jussisse lintres remigesque tracturos v\u0115nire,\nsi forte id opis esse posset. Tum certiorem me facit, fundum n\u0101v\u012ds\nesse solidum, neque admisisse aquam. Mox a magistro bolidem petii,\net a scaph\u00e2 me\u00e2 tentabam aquas. Sex ulnae navi sufficiebant. Means\nremeansque in scaph\u00e2, submarini aggeris finem dimidio fere horae satis\ncomperi. Jam autem tredecim pervenere lintres. Magister me docebat,\nquot remulcis esset opus: ipse affigit, funesque ex suo addit. Saburram\ntramovet, partes nav\u012ds afflictas levans. Ejus dicta per me et Gelavium\ntraduntur. Remis incumbunt, gravi\u00f9s qu\u00e0m violenti\u00f9s prim\u00f2. Remulci\ntenduntur, strident. Exclamat Gelavius: credo eum prohibuisse nimium\nintendi. Iterum; ter; quater incumbunt: demum non frustra esse video.\nMotus quidem nav\u012ds exiguus apparet, augescit, continuatur: tandem\nclamor gaudentium exoritur: nav\u012ds v\u0103do detrahitur et protenus bene\nnatat. 379. Tum magister a me gubernatorem petit, qui in tutum aliquem\nlocum navem deducat, donec m\u0101lus erit resartus. Mult\u00f9m ille miratur,\nquum respondeo, \u201cnemini ceterorum quidquam de h\u00f4c mari esse notum, me\ns\u014dlum littoris aliquam habere notitiam.\u201d Remigibus per Gelavium indico,\nsperare me rem recte processuram: multas me agere gratias: sed parati\nsint iterum adjuvare, si iterum sit opus. Interim aura diurna a mari\nsurrexerat, et, v\u0113lis aliquot praetentis, tardiuscule movebatur nav\u012ds.\nEgo in scaph\u00e2, profunditatem semper praetentans, flumen vers\u00f9s, in\nquod primam meam direxi ratem, sensim deducebam. Sed quoniam tempus\nprocellosum longe \u00e2berat, suasi ut ancoram extr\u00e0 jac\u0115ret, deinde\nper suos nautas exploraret ostium. Assensus est. Tum ego meos viros\ncum scaph\u00e0 domum remitto, ipse in navi maneo colloquii grati\u00e2. 380.\nProtenus magister quaerit, anne novum possit m\u0101lum apud nos \u0115m\u0115re.\nRespondeo: \u201cImmo, sec\u0101re. Esse plurimas supr\u00e0 arbores, m\u0101lis idoneas;\nquas succisas posse facile in vallem detrudi, et, in rip\u00e2 fluminis\ndedolatas, aqu\u00e2 vehi ad navem. In ostio fluminis tutissimum esse portum\nvel furentibus procellis, mod\u00f2 profunditas aquae navem admittat.\u201d 381.\nJam quaerit, anne cibos praebere possimus. Id vero promitto. Illic\u00f2\njubet prandium omnibus apponi liberius, narratque parcius per plures\ndies comedisse cunctos, quia metuerant inopiam. Ego ver\u00f2 interrogo,\nquare has in regiones venerint, utrum gnari an inviti. Ille postquam\nquaedam imperavit, seorsim ductum humili me voce compellat. 382. \u201cTu\nme (inquit) valde adjuv\u00e2sti; ergo l\u012bb\u0115re loquar. Merces ego Anglicas a\nBristoli\u00e2 ad Jamaicam debebam portare. Propter vim venti in Corragiam\nHibernorum conf\u016dg\u0115re sum coactus.\u201d Ibi aliquot meorum nautarum majore\nmercede mihi surripit alius quidam nav\u012ds magister. Tum alios ex\nnecessitate accepi, quales ipse locus dabat, mercenarios nautas, quorum\ntres erant valde improbi. Multa molientes, seditionem serebant et\nbonorum pervert\u00eare mentes. Tandem c\u00f6-orti, in catenas me d\u0115d\u0113re, quum\nmaxime eramus in Occidentalis Indiae mari. Quid de me facere voluerint,\nnescio; sed ceteri nautae nihil gravius in me consuli patiebantur.\nOculos Europaeorum fugientes, inter barbaros (ut opinor) se volebant\nrecondere, credebantque se posse ditescere, divenditis meis mercibus.\nUn\u00e2 ex or\u00e2 optimam aquae copiam assecuti sunt, absentibus barbaris;\nmox, ubi cibos volebant \u0115m\u0115re, orto jurgio, duo e navalibus sociis\noccisi sunt, quorum unus callidissimus erat e tribus illis improbis.\nCeteri, qui cum scaph\u00e2 erant, aegre eff\u016bg\u0113re. Duo illi, qui restabant\ne pessimis, homines imperiti, vi ac minis ac consuetudine qu\u00e2dam navem\nregebant, quanquam coeli ac maris et chartarum marinarum ignari. Cibos\niterum ac ter frustra quaesivere: propter inopiam alimentorum ceteri\nmurmurabant: demum proxim\u00e2 nocte sub auroram in arenas incurrimus.\nTum ver\u00f2 imperitiae horum hominum succensentes, nautae eos catenis\nvinciunt, me liberant, orantque ut sontes puniam, ceteros a periculo\nl\u012bb\u0115rem. Ego st\u0103tim cannonas opem orantes personare jussi: illud\nrestat, ut si possim, quod male factum est, resarciam. Jam autem,\ndic mihi, (quod maximi est) quot gradus terrestris longitudinis hic\nhabeamus. 383. Paene risi, quum haec me interrogaret. Respondeo:\nillum a meo vestitu posse conjectare, quant\u00e2 in barbarie verser. Loci\nsane latitudinem, stellis observatis, cognosse me; longitudinem (quam\nappellant mathematici) prorsus nescire. Id tantum me habere cognitum,\nad Occidentem nos degere, ultra ultimum Orinoconis ostium.--Ille ait,\netiam hoc cognosse, magni referre. 384. Mox interrogo, anne velit me\nin patriam reportare. Is confirmat, maximo illud sibi gaudio fore; nec\ngratiis modo revecturum; nam propter servatam navem magnum mihi a se\nsuisque deberi praemium. Tum jussi, de \u2e24h\u00f4c quod dicebam\u2e25 reticere;\njamque me in su\u00e2 scaph\u00e2 ad terram vehere, ut de cibis comparandis\nimperarem. 385. Undeviginti viri in nave erant: carnem recentem\nAnglis credo fore libentibus. Totopillo dico, si laqueis porcillos,\nlepores avesve possit capere, qu\u00e0m plurimos capiat, ac vivos. Pachum\nac Calefum, trah\u00e2 ac trahul\u00e2 educt\u00e2 (ill\u00e2 duobus jumentis, h\u00e2c uno)\nmecum ad colles Caprinos v\u0115nire jubeo; Larim Fenimque in calathos\nplures fiscellasque componere dioscoreas, maniocas, bananas, dactylos,\naliosque fructus vel legumina: Upim caseos promere quos habebat\nplurimos, et quidquid piscium sale cond\u012btum reservaverat,--si id\nquoque nautis usui foret. Ova gallinacea mihi non erant: pullis avibus\nparcendum decrevi. Denique Gelavium ad Cortopem mitto, orans ut si\nquid aut zeae aut oryzae possit sine suorum detrimento tradere, id me\u00e2\ngrati\u0103 navi convehendum praebeat.\n386. Pachum ac Calefum jam summ\u00e2 in rupe offendi opperientes.\nCaprarum silvestrium agros vers\u00f9s imus rect\u0101, usque e\u00f2 ubi propter\nasperitatem saxorum nulla erat trah\u012bs via. Tum Pachum jubeo qu\u00e0m\noccultissime, more barbarorum, pone saxa inserpere, donec gregem\naliquem intra teli conjectum videat. Ignipultas duas iis tradideram\nportandas: una erat bituba mea. Ambas jam suffercio. Ut Pachus\nrecurrit, progredior caute, etsi neutiquam fugaces erant hae ferae. E\nduplice tubo bis maxim\u00e2 celeritate jaculatus, duas antilopas occ\u012bdo.\nTotus grex aufugit; sed propter formam locorum non pot\u0113rat extra jactum\nextemplo evanescere. Alter\u00e2 ignipult\u00e2 de Calefo arrept\u00e2, tertium\nprotenus dejicio mortuum: is mas fuit, grandis ille quidem, qui\nrestiterat hostem conspecturus. Jumenta nostra paxillis destinaver\u0101mus:\ne\u00f2 jam necesse erat praedam deportare. Calefus et Pachus, connisi,\nsatis aegre humeris suis capras, unam post alteram, deferunt. Caprum\nantilopam video nimium fore: quare egomet, oneri submissus, adjuvo.\nSic per trium virorum nis\u016bs hic quoque in trahulam componitur:\ndein protinus domum eos remitto. 387. Egomet lacum vers\u00f9s propero,\nut anseres vel ferum olorem reportem. Ipsam ad lac\u00fbs oram nunquam\npertigeram: ibi nunc olores video maximos. Anne pisces comedant, anne\ncaro sit bona, nescio; credo tamen pisces e dulci aqu\u00e2 non nocituros\ngustui. Itaque igne conjecto maximum alitem, qui vix in margine erat\naquae, occ\u012bdo; quem, quanquam canis non aderat, facile assequor.\nHunc reportavi humeris meis, incommodum sane onus. 388. Ad cavernas\nCortopem offendo, qui collocuturus de ze\u00e2 et oryz\u00e2 venerat. A Pacho\nvult discere, quanta sit secundae spes messis; item a Totopillo quantam\nvim radicum esculentarum, aut a nobis satam, aut genitam in vallibus,\ndebeamus exspectare. Certior de his rebus factus, decrevit et zeam et\noryzam praebere satis liberaliter. Eum magno cum honore excipio, oroque\nut ad coenam maneat. Plures res in mus\u0113o nunc prim\u00f9m ei exhibeo. 389.\nInter haec perv\u0113nit Totopillus cum nav\u012ds magistro. Magister breviter\nait, Ostium fluminis a se esse exploratum; satis superque esse aquae\nprofundae; cras cum aestu maris velle se intrare. E valle Totopillum\nin rupe a se visum esse; (is de cuniculis ibi satagebat:) se cursum\nsuum ad eum direxisse, ut ad me duceretur.--Totopillus secum habuit\nin sacculis quatuor vivos, unum mortuum cuniculum; dein ego demonstro\nmagistro, quos ei cibos destinem. 390. Is de ceteris rebus multas agit\ngratias; sed unum illum ait sufficere antilopam, duas feminas nolle.\nNam tantam carnis vim corruptum iri, nisi propere comedatur; nautis\nautem qui decem per dies parci\u00f9s pasti essent, insaluberrimum fore,\nsi multum subito carnis haberent. Sed ego (ait) in rupe mansuetum\nvidi gregem: quidni possis duos tresve haedos cum pabulo vivos navi\nimponere, quando in eo erimus ut solvamus?--Tum video errasse me per\nproperantiam: porr\u00f2 m\u0101lus novus erat caedendus. Igitur respondeo:\n\u201cBene est: quidquid poterimus, faciemus.\u201d Tamen de meis haedis\naegre ferebam: nam quidquid mihi cicur factum est, et e me\u00e2 manu\npascebatur, id jugulare dolebat me. 391. De olore obl\u012btus eram facere\nmentionem: nunc sententiam muto. In Cortopem convertor, interprete\nGelavio. Multo cum honore illum maximo alite dono, item duabus mortuis\nantilopis, ut suis remigibus, si sibi libeat, praebeat epulum. Addo,\nnolle me oryzam ab ipso orare, nisi esset, unde supplerem. Is laetus\naccipit, polliceturque lintres ad convehendum cras mittere.--Tum\na Totopillo quaero, numve aves porcillosve ceperit. Nondum ullos,\nrespondet.--Igitur differas (aio) hanc rem, donec resarciatur nav\u012ds:\nnunc ex uno illo lepore coenam appara.--Id ille properat. 392. Confect\u00e2\ncoen\u00e2, Cortops ad suos vult extemplo redire. Ego cum magistro trans\nrupem ambulo, ut arbores m\u0101lo idoneas oculis lustret. Quatuor, quas\ndenotat, cret\u00e2 distinguo: hae erant in saltu meo. Descendens ad\nflumen quintam animadverti, ejusdem fere magnitudinis, quae p\u014dpuli\ninstar gerebat. Hanc ut propiorem commendo, atque ille comprobat.\nTum aio: \u201cFabrum tu nav\u012ds tuae cras h\u00f9c mittito: si quid jumentis\nopus fuerit, ego per viros meos praebebo.\u201d--\u201cEheu! (respondet): faber\nmeus cum insignissimo illo improborum fuit a barbaris occisus: idque\nme male habet, qu\u00f2d nemo apud me est, qui arborem in m\u0101lum dedolare\ncalleat. Sed nisi inter vos quispiam est fabrili arte exercitus,\nnautae mei, ut ut poterunt, caedent.\u201d Tum narro et me et quosdam e\nmeis ex necessitate multam rei fabrili dedisse operam; et posse nos,\nsi velit, hanc rem aliquo tandem modo perficere. Id lubens audit: ait\nse, m\u0101lo, qui fractus sit, in ripam exposito, alterum, ejusdem plane\nmensurae, imperaturum mihi; pretiumque ejus, pecuni\u00e2 aestimatum, in\naccepti tabulam mihi relaturum. Tum ego, quantum possum, spondeo: is ad\nsuam scapham abit, in navem rediturus; ego ad cavernas. 393. Postero\ndie sine ull\u00e2 difficultate Pachus et Calefus arborem illam succidunt\net ramos amputant. Nav\u012ds cum matutino aestu ostium subit fluminis,\nm\u0101lumque illum confractum in ripam excutit. Ibi ego accuratissime omnes\nejus partes metior conscriboque. Fabrilia nav\u012ds instrumenta recognosco:\nm\u014dlem quandam cochleatam mutuor et maximas confibulas plures; quoniam\nutroque in fine inter operandum debeat arbor firmiter destinari.\nDolabras item et runcinas inde sumo, ne, si nostrae in caedendo\nretundantur, absumatur tempus. Ego quidem videbar plus festinare qu\u00e0m\nmagister; inaniter credo: sed spem redeundi oblatam tandem, mora\nuniuscujusque diei videbatur imminuere. Video cras operam perfectum\niri: igitur Totopillum jubeo, qu\u00e0m maturrime possit, testudinem capere;\nmox pabulum haedinum in navem congerere. Enimvero cras, id est, tertio\ndie, ut speravi, m\u0101lum perfecimus. Vespere Gelavium ad Cortopem mitto,\nnunciaturum, me gravissim\u00e2 de re velle colloqui, quae cum plebe su\u00e2\ndebeat communicari; quare in ejus honorem, nisi quid nolit, ipsum me ad\neum m\u0101n\u0115 venturum. Respondet, lubenti fore.\n394. M\u0101n\u0115, regium vestitum gerens, me\u00e2 in scaph\u00e2, comitantibus\nCalefo, Pacho, Gelavio, circumnavigavi ad Cortopem. Is me multo cum\nhonore excipit. Tumulum quendam vel tribunal e cespite exstruxerant,\nin quod mecum ascendit, et in arundinaceo quodam picto tap\u0113te me\nrequiescere jubet. Tum ad contionem suorum verba facit,--credo ut\nme iis commendet: illi conclamant plaudentes. Assurgo et manibus\ngesticulor: nihil aliud poteram. Dein descendimus, et per Gelavium\noro, ut Cortops mecum et Calefo seorsim colloquatur. Jam me aperio,\nCalefo interprete. 395. Aio, me omnibus insulae meae civibus summam\noptare prosperitatem: hanc ut affirmem, praecipuae mihi esse curae.\nIllum, quippe virum nobilem, mitem, seniorem et diu notum, quasdam\npropter causas me ipso fortasse meli\u00f9s eorum fortunis praesessurum:\nquare un\u00e2 sub condicione esse mihi in animo, ut de principatu illi\ncedam.--Prim\u00f2 non credit Calefum recte interpretari. Bis terque\ninterrogabat, et, ut iteraretur res, postulavit. Igitur ego, regiis\ngemmis de meo collo detractis, illius super capite sustinebam. Sensi\nhominem valde moveri. Tum quaesivit, quaenam foret illa una condicio?\nRespondeo:--Quoniam illi non essent filii, postulare me, ut Gelavium\npro suo filio et principat\u00fbs successore adoptaret; et postquam ego\ncoram contione Cortopem meis regalibus exornassem, is rursus Gelavium,\npro suo filio ac successore pronunciatum, regio aliquo more publice\nagnosceret. Libentissime hanc condicionem accepit. 396. Tunc adhibitis\nin colloquium Pacho ac Gelavio, ret\u0115go quid actum sit. Pachus laetatur,\nGelavius obstupescens lacrimatur, interrogatque, numne abeam. Protenus\nexplico; hanc navem meorum esse popularium et ad meam redire patriam:\noportere me, patris senectutem amanter fovere; porro h\u00ecc me, si maxime\nlinguae Indicanae forem peritus, paucis aliquot posse esse carissimum,\nuniversis non posse esse acceptum gratumque principem. Non me poenitere\nqu\u00f2d artem litterarum iis per Gelavium tradiderim. Hanc si excolant,\nfilios fore patribus, nepotes filiis usque sapientiores. Sed opus meum\nh\u00e2c in insul\u00e2 finitum esse.--Profundum subsequitur silentium. 397.\nP\u00f2st paullisper Cortopem rogo, nunquid obstet, quominus rem illico\nperficiamus. Ille, quasi evigilans, vacuis oculis aliquid respondet.\nInterpretantur: \u201cNihil quod sciam.\u201d Tum Calefus in cespitem escendens\npauca proclamat, populum in contionem revocans. Opper\u012bmur, donec qu\u00e0m\nplurimi reveniant. Tum Cortopis manum tenens, cum eo iterum escendo,\ncunctis mirantibua quid agatur. Protenus ego meo capite detractam\ncristam Cortopis impono capiti, et monile meum e bullis fulgentissimis\net versicoloribus collo ejusdem circumpono. Adstrepit plebs gestiens.\nMox Pachus explicat, me in honorem Cortopis de meo principatu cedere.\nConclamatur ab universis. Descendimus ego ac Pachus: Gelavium escendere\njubeo. 398. Rursus Cortops palam nunciat, se publice Gelavium pro suo\nfilio adoptare, quem se mortuo debeant pro principe venerari. Post haec\ndicta, ipsum illud monile meum, suo collo detractum, imponit Gelavio,\nqu\u00f2 manifestior meis sit oculis acta res. Applaudo. Tum Cortops Gelavii\ncollo manus suas circumdat, et paternum ei osculum imprimit. Dein\nbrevissimum aliquid proclamat, quod mox mihi explicant: \u201cEn vobis\nfilius meus!\u201d Mox maxim\u00e2 cum acclamatione disceditur. Oro Cortopem,\nut propter mea summa negotia, si illi id non sit incommodum, ad meum\nportum secundo m\u0101n\u0115 veniat. Mox mult\u00e2 cum ceremoni\u00e2 decedentes, domum\nscaph\u00e2 petivimus. Haec quarto erant die, post navis adventum. Eodem\nsane die novus ille m\u0101lus per duo jumenta ad navem a Totopillo deductus\nest.\nCAPUT (XIV.) QUARTUMDECIMUM.\n399. Quinto die novus ille m\u0101lus suum in locum figitur. Ego autem\nquidquid volebam asportare, deligebam, componebam,--laetans, moerens,\ngemens, mire varius, et valde taciturnus. Statui autem me ante quintum\nfinitum diem meas res omnes confecturum: atque confeci. 400. Sexto die\nperv\u0113nit Cortops, sic ut rogaveram. Pulcerrimum ei gladiorum meorum,\nqui erat e chalybe caeruleo, atque unam novaculam cum coticul\u00e2 su\u00e2\ncoriace\u00e2, dono do; item optimam ignipultam aucupariam: dicoque, si\nartem jaculandi velit discere, posse a Gelavio doceri. Mox furcillam\nmensalem et cochlear, quae argentea habebam, ut regii juris, detuli.\nInstrumentum meum fabrile ac coquinarium omne ei exhibui, jussique,\nsi quid praesertim vellet, inde deligere. Nihil ille nisi ferream\ncratem, sartaginem[Y] et duas secures del\u0113git. Serras dixit se cunctas\nconcupiscere; sed accipere,--id fore impudentis. Tum ego arridens dico,\nquidquid cum Gelavio reliquerim, ejus usum fructumque penes Gelavii\npatrem principemque fore. Mox addidi, nescire me, quanti meam ille\nscapham aestimaret; Gelavii et Totopilli oper\u00e2 fuisse exornatam; sed\nhonoris caus\u00e2, acciperet a me. Honoris (respondet) caus\u00e2 lubentissime\nse accipere. Denique sericam meam umbellam illi trado, quoniam haec\nquoque regium quiddam habere videbatur. Post prandium, ips\u00e2 in scaph\u00e2\ncum donis meis revertit, suam lintrem (pulcram illam quidem) concedens\nGelavio, sagittasque Totopillo cum arcu splendidiore. Equidem meis\nomnibus sedulo multa gratificabar, maribus ignipultas pistolasque\nimprimis, honoris fortasse caus\u00e2, item alias res plures; sed feminis\nquae dari oporteat, aliquanto difficili\u00f9s statuebam.\n401. Rerum serie abreptus, cladem cymbae omisi narrare. Upis, praeter\nalias operas, in piscibus colligendis condiendisque erat utilis.\nSolebat in cymb\u00e2 retia mea ipso in portu visere, inde pisces reportans.\nHaec mulier cum Lari item nova fecit retia, et vetera resarcivit.\nQuodam die, quando, reti elato, in eo erat ut pisces extraheret,\naccipiter quidam marinus pro pisce certabat: id quod ali\u00e0s evenire\nnoveram; nam hominem hi alites par\u00f9m formidabant. Ea surgens, remo\nafflixit alitem; sed vi verberis oblique se e cymb\u00e2 praecipitavit.\nForte plenus tum maxime erat aestus, mari satis tumido. Cymba,\nresorbente aestu, extra asportatur, mox in scopulos affligitur. Mulier\nenatans facile terram attigit: cymbae nil nisi tabulas quasdam et unum\nremum recuperavimus.\n402. Totopillus, ut primum tempestas favet, tres testudines ope\nGelavii ac Pachi reportat. Has cum plurimis cibis vivas ad navem ego\ncum Gelavio, ipsius in lintre, conveho: ibi cum magistro colloquor.\nPolliceor vivos haedos pusillos quatuor: demonstroque, si amplius\nvellet pabuli, nautas posse e valle metere. Antennas, ait ille, mali\netiam deesse; rogatque anne possim fracti mali antennas probe affigere,\nceterasque res concinnare: suos enim nautas valde esse inhabiles, quos\ne Corrhagi\u00e2 duxisset. Credo posse me operam conficere; sed Dominicus\ndies accedebat. Ne post discessum meum prorsus negligeretur ille dies,\ncomperendinavi rem. \u201cDie Lunari (dixi), si potero, perficiam; tum tu\ndie Martis navem fortasse solves.\u201d Se fore praesto, ait, si ventus\nfaveat.\n403. Tum seorsim magistro dico; quoniam fabrum non habeat, quidni me\npro fabro suo rediens accipiat? Ridet prim\u00f2 incredulus; sed quando me\nserium videt, respondet, \u201cSit sane, ut vis. Si opera tua fabrilis navi\nsuffecerit, plenam fabri mercedem a sociis meis domi accipies. Servatae\nnavis praemium tibi erit integrum. Pro cibis quos praebes, pecuniam non\nnumerabo quidem nunc, sed aestimabo.\u201d 404. Tum quales habeat merces,\ninterrogo. Ait se ad Jamaicam portare agricolendi instrumentum, item\nvilia servorum vestimenta, et quidquid coloniae sit idoneum. Num serras\nhabeat, num palas, rogo. Maxime, ait. Tum ego decem serras, decem\npalas, quadraginta cultellos plicatiles, quadraginta vestes e gossypio,\net longi gossipii quatuor fasces, emo; novum donum Cortopi. Sic propter\noryzam spero ejus plebi satis repensum iri. Mox varia conficio feminis\nnostris munuscula, aliqua viris meis, quae referre taedet: long\u00e8 plura\nsane Gelavio confero, inter quae duo pono dolia pulveris nitrati,\nquatuor missilis plumbi sacculos. Has res omnes magister contra me\nin tabulam impensi refert, polliceturque in cavernas meas deportare.\n405. Cras, qui dies erat Domini, plurimi conven\u0113re, ut me ultim\u00f9m\nsalutarent. Multa dixi benigne, sed moribundi hominis animum gerebam.\nMultis Gelavium monui, ut quantum posset, non his tant\u00f9m viris, sed\nposteris prospiceret; nempe, si seniorum consilio de agris colendis,\nde usu-fructu agrorum ac maris, de aedibus condendis, de materie saxi\ncaementique fruend\u00e2, leges aequas firmasque promulgaret. De talibus\nrebus prout leges bonae exercentur, ita (dixi) civitatis cujusque\nviget polletque status. Si de his quae Deus donavit mortalibus aeque\njuste-que inter homines statutum sit, tum fore ut singulorum industria\nvigeat, universorum copiae abundent; neque unquam uberrim\u00e2 in insul\u00e2\ndefore principi tutamenta majestatis, si usque ad humillimum quemque\ncivem descenderit principis aequitas.--Ille mea verba quasi haurit\natque recondit, rar\u00f2 respondens aut paucissima. Tandem ait (ignoscat\nmihi lector, qu\u00f2d refero,) \u201cO here, nunquam ego volui regnare; sed si\nantea nescirem, in te didici quaenam essent regnatoris elementa.\u201d 406.\nPostea dixi: \u201cNae tu, quidquid evenerit, id agas, ut nunquam h\u00e2c in\ninsul\u00e2 duo sint inter se liberi principes. Si ad tempus id devitari\nnequibit, at tu per foedus facito ut filii vestri ac filii omnium qui\nin e\u00e2dem h\u00e2c erunt insul\u00e2, e\u00f4dem summo principe utantur. Qu\u00e0m mites\nsitis inter vos, tu optim\u0113 noveris. Qu\u00e0m atrox funestumque possit\nesse bellum, ego video, quatuor illos fortesque requirens Cortopis\nfilios. Tu in fratris jam loco es erga Totopillum; cur, quaeso,\nacerrimi quondam crudelissimique fuistis hostes?\u201d Lacrim\u00e2 obort\u00e2, \u201cTu\nconciliasti,\u201d inquit. De se nihil promittebat.\n407. Die Lunari antennas resarcivimus: tum funes nautae ipsi\nordinabant. Magister queritur, inter fructus non fuisse limonas, de qu\u00e2\nre illico imperabam. Mox Totopillus octo aves vivas detulit, quinque\nmortuas; ex his tres grandes erant; otidas esse credidi. Dixit habere\nse porcillos quoque, cras fortasse alia delaturum. 408. Ego unam acum\npolarem, unum par pistolarum, bitubam meam, alteramque aucupariam\nmecum eram avecturus; item quidquid proprium fuit Brazilici magistri.\nQuidquid nemini datum relinquerem, id omne pronuncio Gelavii esse. Hunc\nporro rogavi, ut in matris meae honorem cocum illam in portu rigaret\nfoveretque.\n409. Summo mane experrecti, maxim\u00e2 cum exspectatione multi mortales\ndiscurrimus. Totopillus mature porcillos vivos tres detulit, novamque\navium copiam, inter quas columbi erant e meis vivi. Seri\u00f9s Fenis,\nLaris, Pachus fiscellam limonum suo quisque in capite deportat. Mox\na Cortope nuncius remigum operam pollicetur, siqu\u00e0 forte opus sit.\nSed propter ventum adversissimum et cautes vadosi maris par\u00f9m n\u014dtas,\nmagister honorifico responso negat se audere hodie egredi: id qu\u00f2d\nmult\u00f9m doleo. 410. Nam suspensis intentisque animis moestissimum\nest segnitia: item, paratis rebus omnibus, quid nobis nisi segnitia\nrestat? Propterea, procedento die, juvabat me qu\u00f2d magister, plurima\ninterrogando, multum a me sermonem elicuit. Praecipue mirabatur, qu\u00f4\ntandem fato ego, Anglus homo, inter Lusitanos Brazilienses ineunte\nadolescenti\u00e2 fuerim colonus, ubi ipsa religio deterret Anglos.\nUbi Gelavius quoque oravit, ut totam hanc rem plenius explicarem,\nin plen\u00e2 nautarum contione hanc tandem in modum locutus sum. 411.\nEgo, in nave Anglic\u00e2 ad Guineam navigans, a Mauro pirat\u00e2 captus sum\ncum sociis nostris navalibus. Is me quatuor fere annos pro servulo\nlaborare co-egit. Tandem felici audaci\u00e2 aufugi, in phaselo heri\nvelocissimo, unum puerum Maurum simul asportans. Ipso in Oceano nave\nLusitan\u00e2 excepti sumus atque ad Braziliam devecti. Magister negat se\npro naulo quidquam a fugitivo Christiano accepturum: pro phaselo et\nrebus omnibus quas asportavi, ipse pollicetur pretium. Denique ab h\u00f4c\nviro liberali, postquam in Omnium Sanctorum Sinu ancoram jacimus,\npersoluta mihi est summa ducentarum viginti minarum Lusitanarum. Hoc\ncaput mihi erat pecuniae, in Braziliam exposito. Fatendum autem est me\nclam patre navigasse; noluisse me idcirco sic reverti in patriam, ut\np\u0103rentis opes iners consumerem. 412. Illa sane regio, immensa agrorum,\nprofunda saltibus, vacua virorum, advenas libentissime excipit: nec\ndiu exspecto, antequam apud colonum quendam in agriculturam adhibear.\nPrim\u00f2 quidem propter linguam ignotam par\u00f9m eram utilis. Poteram sane\ncolentibus astare, observare, segnitiam cohibere, et modic\u00e2 qu\u00e2dam\noper\u00e2 cibum tectumque mereri, ut ne ex meo impenderem. Interim per\neundem navis magistrum transigebam, ut ex Angli\u00e2 pecuniae quaedam\nmeae ad me mitterentur. Is nempe, Ulyssiponem rediturus, credebat se\nillic posse id procurare, si ego litteras sibi ad mearum pecuniarum\nsequestrem confiderem; id quod lubenter feci. (At femina habebat nummos\nmeos, vidua magistri navis, primi mei atque optimi patroni.) Postea\nautem vir benignus, re me\u00e2 tanquam su\u00e2 ipsius accuratius perpens\u00e2,\nait nummis nequaquam opus esse; sed caput pecuniae, postquam de summ\u00e2\ncertior veniret ab Angli\u00e2 nuncius, Lusitan\u00e2 merce mutandum, qualis\npraesertim Braziliae esset idonea. Posse me post aliquod tempus\nUlyssiponem ad se scribere, siquid potissimum vellem: sin minus, tum\nquaecunque sibi viderentur, reportaturum. Gratias sane \u0113gi, litterasque\nad amicam viduam composui, in quibus omnia, quae contigerant, strictim\nnarrabantur. Ea, postquam redditae sunt hae litterae, laeta effugio\nmeo, propter mariti sui memoriam Lusitanum magistrum ex suo liberaliter\ndonat, simul parentibus meis cuncta impertit. Comperire non potui,\ncredo tamen, meas apud illam pecunias a patre confestim auctas\nesse; nam merx quam demum accepi, aliquanto plus erat qu\u00e0m quod aut\nexspectaveram aut potui explicare. Sed redeo unde deflexi. 413. Colonus\nille (Araujo ei erat nomen) cujus in operis eram, agri ditior erat qu\u00e0m\npecuniae, nec potuit naturali agrorum ubertate ita frui ut debebat.\nAger per servos colitur. Atqui ille neque tot servos, quot opus erant,\nhabebat, neque instrumentum satis amplum, si, propagat\u00e2 cultur\u00e2,\nredit\u016bs ac commercia opperiretur. Ut industrium me prim\u00f2 esse vidit,\nagrique colendi haud ignarum; mox, intellexit nummorum me aliquantum\nmanu tenere, alias exspectare ab Angli\u00e2 pecunias: sensi eum familiari\u00f9s\nme compellare, tum saepi\u00f9s astare, velle colloqui, ad mensam interdum\nadhibere. Mox pueris uxorique me commendat. Garrio cum pueris, ruri\nc\u014fm\u0115s fio; ludum quasi gladiatorium facio,--non cum ipso gladio, nam\nvirga pro telo erat,--dum doceo quomodo Anglus nauta, quomodo Maurus,\nferiat, arceat. Quae omnia non modo animum meum inter peregrinos valde\nsolabantur, sed propter linguae quoque usum proderant. Lusitanic\u0113 loqui\nex pueris disco, cum patre sermones \u2e24ipsius de re\u2e25 habeo arctiores.\n414. Tandem is se aperit. Benigne de me quaedam praefatus, ait,--Si\nsocium haud pauperem haberet, ambobus lautius fore qu\u00e0m nunc sibi soli:\ntantam esse agri ubertatem, coeli teporem, aquarum abundantiam. Me,\nsi in haeretic\u00e2 religione persistam, agros meo nomine non posse in\nBrazili\u00e2 tenere. Sane se velle, concordes forent omnes Cristiani: sin\nautem id fieri non possit, tum--idone\u00e2 fact\u00e2 syngraph\u00e2, quin pecunias\nin fundo ejus collocem, amplosque redit\u016bs foenore accipiam?\n415. Ubi cibus abundat et jucunda aeris temperies facili oper\u00e2\ncorpus fovet, ibi (opinor) animi ad liberalitatem, apud nos ad\navaritiam, sunt propensiores. Itaque coloni illi sunt haud raro segnes,\nnegligentes, prodigi; profecto non sunt illiberales. Quare, quae in\nmedium proferebat, c\u014dmiter excutiebam; neque abhorrebam a viro, vultu\nmoribusque juxt\u00e0 benigno. 416. Illud quoque considerabam; Lusitaniam\nAngliae arctiore quodam vinculo astringi, ex quo tempore formidanda\nilla, ingens potentiae Hispania, nostra dirissima atque implacabilis\nhostis, e possessione Lusitaniae est exturbata: quo tutiores mihi fore\npecunias, apud civem Lusitanum collocatas. 417. Denique consensi;\nscriptisque litteris, quas merces ille desiderabat potissimum, has\nego Ulyssipone reportandas ad me rogavi. Pecunias propter praesent\u0113s\nus\u016bs illico poteram ex arc\u00e2 me\u00e2 conferre. Paciscitur porro, ut ego\noperas agrestes curem regamque, ille praestet mihi ex ipso fundo\ncibum, servos, equos, cuncta quae maximi sunt: cetera ex praesenti\npecuni\u00e2 atque ex annuo foenore facile solvo. 418. Miranda sane est\nill\u00e2 in regione arborum atque fruticum tum copia, tum proceritas.\nPlurimarum nomina arduum est dicere: immo, prorsus populis Europaeis\nsunt incognita. Celebris est ibi mandioca esculenta, item milium atque\nzea Indica, item banana, et oryza sativa. Atqui ego, qui plurima terr\u00e2\nnascentia apud Mauros didiceram, tamen longe plura h\u00ecc prim\u00f2 ignota\ninv\u0113ni. 419. Noster quidem fundus saccharum praecipue et tabacum\ngignebat. Rad\u012bces esculentas, olera, cerealia, ipsi in suis agellis\nservi ed\u016dcant, heroque praestant unus quisque aliquantum. Ille s\u0113min\u0103\nquaedam, instrumenta, vestimenta, tecta domorum confert; cuncta\nadministrat, defendit, regia vectigalia persolvit. 420. Per biennium\nplurima circa fundum erant novanda. Plus aliquando excolebatur agri.\nSep\u0113s, viae, portulae erant conficiendae: tum casulae novae, plutei.\nDistribuendum instrumentum, cultura regenda, multa nove docenda.\nIrrigatione non opus erat; duntaxat propter oryzam quibusdam in\nagellis cohibebantur rivuli decurrentes. Tertio itidem anno mult\u00e2\nopus erat alacritate et perpensatione diligentissim\u00e2, ut ad amussim\njudicarem quid sapienter, quid stulte impensum; quae retinendae\nrationes, quae mutandae forent. Necnon, ipsorum servorum ingeniis\njam meli\u00f9s perspectis, ad suas quemque curas fructuosi\u00f9s poteram\ndisponere. Tantummod\u00f2 non satis habebamus virorum in operis, quanquam\nvernulae quotannis nascebantur, et post aliquot annos videbantur\nsuffecturi. 421. Attamen quarto jam anno affluebant opes, servuli\ncontinuam officiorum rotam persequebantur. Socius (sive collega) ille\nmeus Araujo, vetus negociandi, externas fundi nostri res diligenter\nadministrabat. Ego ver\u00f2 quasi brachiis replicatis poteram ditescere,\nnisi qu\u00f2d propter novam hanc segnitiam tum maxime fundi, regionis,\nhominum, meique ipsius taedebat me.\n422. Debebam fortasse uxorem ducere, sed religio loci impediebat: non\nqu\u00f2d ego Anglici cult\u00fbs tenax fuerim atque ostentator; nam extra,\nvix diversus a ceteris videbar. Sciebam autem, ut prim\u00f9m matrimonium\ncontemplarer, extemplo sacerdotes de me\u00e2 religione fore curiosissimos;\ndein arctas connubii leges postulaturos, quibus neque uxor sit mea\nipsius, neque liberi neque domus neque servi; sed sacerdos su\u00e2 sponte\nintret, cognoscat, ordinet, imperitet; cunctos, si lubitum fuerit,\ncontra me cohortetur. Id vero non erat ferendum. Itaque solus manebam,\nsolum me fovebam, oblectabam: mox, me ipsum perosus, inquieto agitabar\nanimo.\n423. Ita affecto subita supervenit vitae conversio, quam satis mirari\nnon possum. Collega ille sive magister meus sedulo me ad se vocat; ait,\ngravi de re velle se colloqui; aures benignas et patientes se orare.\nEgo, mirabundus quid sit, respondeo, esse mihi otii satis superque,\net perlubenter me auscultaturum. 424. Tum infit: Opulentiorem se per\nme indies fieri. Quidquid dicat, ne se putem ingratum, neve velle ab\nse me amotum. Multa me fundo suo optime fecisse, unum non potuisse\nfacere, ut plures essent servuli. Id si fieret, mult\u00f2 etiam perfecti\u00f9s\nlati\u00f9sque excoli posse agros. Operam meam per triennium utilem fuisse,\nimmo necessariam; jam ipsam per se quasi confectam: sic enim me\nres administrasse, ut non jam indigerent mei. Nunc si sibi suisque\nfamiliaribus consultum velim, in eo res esse ut valde possim adjuvare.\n425. Hic pausam fecit: ego autem exspectans etiam tacui. Tum de novo\nincipit: Audisse se ex me, navigasse me ad Guineam commercii causs\u00e2.\nSi iterum vellem e\u00f2dem proficisci, sibi amicisque gratum fore, mihi\nipsi fortasse non malum. Etenim plures notasse, me, qui antea hilaris\nstrenuusque fuissem, nuper taciturnum evasisse, moestum, languidum.\nFortasse propter valetudinem mutandum a\u00ebra. Excursionem maritimam\ncorpori mentique fore salubrem. 426. Interroganti mihi, Quid autem\nego tibi tuisque circa Guineam sum profuturus? respondet: Imprimis tu\nrationem hujus commercii atque idoneas merces intelligis, quas hinc\noporteat exportare: tum, (quod est maxumum) servos nigritas, quos\nvolumus c\u00f6emere, tu clementer r\u0115ges, sanos deportabis. L\u012bb\u0115re tecum\nde te loquar. Difficile est virum bon\u00e2 famili\u00e2, humane institutum,\nbenevolum, veterem rei marit\u012dmae, strenuum negociando, regendi capacem\nreperire, qui servitia venalia conquirat. Atqui vel maxime tali viro\nhic est opus. 427. Tu homines barbaros benigne excipies, demulcebis,\nad obsequium d\u016bces leniter: alii efferos, contumaces, tristes, vel\nlanguidos, morbosos, semimortuos important. Nos te volumus sine\ntuo impendio ire. Manicipia de nostro c\u00f6-emes: deportata inter nos\ndividemus; tu parem nobis habebis sortem. Porro, quod nunc tibi propter\noperam tuam agrestem attribuo, id omne, pecuni\u00e2 aestimatum, quamdiu in\nnave sis, solvam. 428. Nescio an laus mei me nonnihil oblectaverit:\nceter\u00f9m respondeo, admirans si per regium praefectum talis expeditio\nliceret: nam rex jus servitiorum venditandorum paucis quibusdam propter\nmagnam pecuniam concedit. At ille: \u201cNihil nos contra regis edicta\nsumus facturi. Palam non licet venditare, at nos prorsus non vendemus.\nEt ver\u00f2, quo certius res se habeat, muneribus quibusdam sagaciter\ndistributis efficiamus ut ne nimia de navis onere sit investigatio.\n429. Accedit qu\u00f2d sacerdotes tale inceptum vehementer comprobant.\nBarbaros homines, quorum vita (l\u012bbera sit, an servilis) saeva est,\nimpia, foeda,--hos in mansuetum servitium sub benignitate Cristian\u00e2\ntradere, verae aiunt esse pietatis. Jam nav\u012ds parata est; merx, qualem\ntu jubebis, cito parabitur.\u201d\n430. Neque valde placebat mihi neque displicebat haec expeditio. Haud\namplius juvenali ardore in maria irruebam, et tamen amabam mare atque\nipsam operum commutationem. Condiciones vidi aequas esse, rem lucrosam,\nneque amicos homines rejicere facile fuit. Re ponderat\u00e2, demum\nconsensi. Tum quasi intermortuus, solemni testamento omnia concludo.\nBenignum illum navis magistrum, qui me ex mari servaverat, haeredem\ninstituo ex semisse. Alterum semissem rei meae ad Angliam remittendum\ndestino, conscriboque singillatim, quid opus facto sit. Sane, si, ut in\ntestamento fui providus, sic in vit\u00e2 dirigend\u00e2 fuissem sagax, nunquam\ntantas aerumnas exsul ab hominis genere forem perpessus.\n431. Jamque paratis rebus omnibus, solvimus a portu ipsis Nonis,\nAugusto mense. Prim\u00f2 ad septemtriones navigavimus, paene littus\nAmericae nostrae legentes, tempestate bon\u00e2, duntaxat vehementer calid\u00e2,\ndonec ad promontorium Augustinianum devenimus. Inde ad Aquilones\nversus, tanquam ad insulam Ferdinandi Neroniani direximus cursum,\ncitoque terram condidimus. Duodecimo die turbo ventorum ex Austro\nconversus detorquetur in Eurum, inde in Aquilonem, violenti\u00e2 semper\naugescens. 432. Nos, multum contr\u00e0 luctati, necessario tempestate\ndeferimur. E sodalicio unus vir febre victus decessit: mox nauta ac\npuer, superscandente fluctu, asportantur. Ut potuit magister, paullum\ndecrescente vento, coelum observare, credidit nos prope Septentrionale\ncontinentis littus, circa Orinoconis ostia, devectos. Navem negat\nAtlanticum mare trajiciendi jam esse comp\u014ftem: igitur me in consilium\nadhibito, rect\u0101 domum redeundum censet. Id ver\u00f2 vehementer nolo;\ninspectoque mari in chartis descripto, suadeo ut Barbadam petat, vitato\naest\u00fbs decursu, qui s\u012dnum Mexicanum invehitur. 433. Ille consensit ne\nredeat, clavumque ita flectit, ut qui in aliqu\u00f4 Anglarum Antillium\nportu cupiat navem reficere. H\u00e2c spe adductus, iterum nos in altum\ncommittit: attamen novae procellae infortunatam navem excipiunt.\nDenique, ne longus sim, mult\u00f9m reluctati, in has ipsas arenas\ndepellimur, ubi vestra navis afflicta est. Sed nos, scaph\u00e2 conantes\neff\u016dg\u0115re, salo maris obr\u016dti sumus, unde ego solus evasi vivus. Ceter\u00f9m\nnavis ad plenilunium duravit incolumis, et praebuit mihi, non victum\nmod\u00f2, sed paene insulae hujus imperium.\n434. Talia ubi dixeram, multa inter se colloquuntur, atque alia\ninterrogant, quibus Gelavium respondere jubeo: sic vario sermone\nfinitus est dies. Nocte mutatur ventus. Prim\u00e2 luce magister mihi\naperit, remiges nunc posse mult\u00f9m adjuvare; de quo protinus nuncium\nmisi. Hor\u00e2 ante meridiem decem cum ipso Cortope v\u0113n\u0113re. Mei quoque\nomnes congregabantur, inter quos (ignoscat lector!) canem paene\nlacrimans aspicio. Hunc, illis tam utilem, asportare nolui: illud\ndolebam, qu\u00f2d feminam canem non potui simul dare, ne ipsum genus\nperiret. 435. Mox solvunt ancoram. Movetur navis cum aestu, remulci\napplicantur, flumen descendimus. Vocibus, vultu, gestu, plenis\ncaritate, plenis item magno moerore, discedimus. Ad coelum surgit\ncor meum, quaeritantis ecquando eccubi hosce tam fideles, tam bonos\niterum conveniam. Gelavium oculi mei anquirunt frustra: fortasse\npropter dolorem se occultabat. A terr\u00e2 jam recedens, egregiam insulae\npulcritudinem admiror. Nunquam sane algae, fruticeta, praegrandes\narbores, palmeta, colles, aqua purpurea, coelum clarissimum, tam\ndigna mihi antea visa sunt Paradiso. Sic remiges nos trahunt, quamdiu\nmagistro id tutius videretur. 436. Ut primum in alto sumus et rite\nconcinnantur vela, magister mihi significat ut dimittam lintres. Tum\nvideo Gelavium, loco Cortopis, iis esse praefectum. Is propere navem\nscandit, genua mea complectitur; et antea quam verba possim illo\nmomento digna fingere, recesserat, evaserat. Extemplo inter lintres\nac navem magnum exstitit intervallum. Descendo in cellam meam, animum\nvariis motibus distractum, pietate, si possim recollecturus.\n437. Ad Caurum, quantum sineret ventus, semper contendebamus. Postquam\nquadraginta fere millia cursus fecimus, nav\u012ds Europaea apparet;\nmercatoria nav\u012ds, ut credimus. Eam versus rect\u0101 tendens, magister\ncannones opem precantes personari jubet. Mox per prospecula vexillum\nvidemus Anglicum. \u201cForsitan (inquit magister) ill\u00e2 citius in nave qu\u00e0m\nin me\u00e2 patriam attingas.\u201d Id me dubitatione conturbat. Postea aio,\nsi maxime illa nav\u012ds rect\u0101 ad Angliam properet, praestat praemonere\nparentes, vivere me ac venire. Dein memini, quoniam pro fabro operam\nlocassem meam, aequius esse, ut ne, nisi coactus, pactum abrumperem; et\nquidquid rei pecuniariae inter me et magistrum pend\u0113ret, id benignius\na sociis ejus aestimatum iri, si tunc navi adhaererem. 438. Igitur\npropere litteras conscribo, quae ad patrem meum traderentur, si forte\nnav\u012ds illa perferret. Quando convenimus, magister noster quaerit ab\niis, qu\u00e2nam in longitudine terrestri versemur. Illi confestim et\nlongitudinem et latitudinem nobis pronunciant; aiunt porro Angliam se\ndirect\u0101 pet\u0115re. Magister meas aliasque a se litteras iis tradit; mox\ninter utrosque disceditur. 439. Jamaicam sine nox\u00e2 attigimus: h\u00ecc finis\nmihi erat vagandi. Divendit\u00e2 merce atque ali\u00e2 merce assumt\u00e2, iterum\nsolvimus, et minus quinquaginta diebus in Bristoliae portu recondimur.\nInde epistolam ad patrem scribo, et tenerrimo responso exhilaror. 440.\nTransactis festinanter negociis, ali\u00e0s litteras ad Braziliam compono.\nQuidquid de me\u00e2 re ex meo testamento fecisset optimus et amicissimus\nmeus haeres, credens me mortuum, id omne confirmo. Quidquid ex re nav\u012ds\nmagistri illius, qui in naufragio periit, apud me teneo,--horologia,\naurum Hispanum, aliaque,--haec et si cujus al\u012bus rei pretium exceperim,\nspondeo reparare. Omnes ibi amicos salvere jubeo. 441. Tum propero\nad p\u0103rentes, portans mecum documenta illa fidelium ministrorum,\nregiam tegetem dorsualem, praecinctorium, calceamenta, item clavam\nbellicam viri occisi. Nec diu est, quum Eboraci ad carissimorum ac diu\nneglectorum pertingo s\u012dnum, senectuti patris matrisque tener\u00e2 pietate\nopitulaturus.\nGLOSSARY.\n    Acus sarcinaria, _packing needle_.\n    Amentum, _a loop_, _thong with loop_.\n    Argilla vitrearia, _glazier\u2019s putty_.\n    \u2020Artillator, _the gunner of a ship_.\n    Aurea m\u0101la, _oranges_.\n    Batillum, _coal shovel_.\n    Blatta, _chafer_ or _beetle_.\n    Capis, -idis, _jug_, _mug_, _tankard_.\n    \u2020Cannon, -onis, _a cannon_.\n    Cinchona, _Peruvian bark_.\n    Cochlear, -\u0101re, _a spoon_.\n    Confibula, _a clamp_.\n    Culter plicatilis, _a clasp-knife_.\n    Cupa natans, _a buoy_.\n    Cymba, _a skiff_.\n    Dactylus, \u2020Datta, _a date (fruit)_.\n    Diaeta, _cabin of ship_.\n    \u2020Dioscorea, _a yam_.\n    Forceps, _pincers_.\n    Forfex, _shears_, _scissors_.\n    Frutices, _shrubs_.\n    Furcilla, _table fork_.\n    \u2020Grallatores, _wading birds_.\n    \u2020Grossularius, _gooseberry_.\n    Hasta cunicularia, _miner\u2019s pike_.\n    Helcia, _traces_.\n    Horologium, _clock_ or _watch_.\n    \u2020Ignipulta, _a gun_.\n    Infula, _turban_.\n    Res Jaculatoria, _gunnery_.\n    Lodices, _blankets_.\n    Lorica, _(ship\u2019s) parapet_ or _bulwark_.\n    \u2020Macacus, _monkey_.\n    Magis, -idis, _rolling pin_.\n    Otides, _bustards_.\n    Pessulum, _a bolt_.\n    Podium, _outjutting ledge_, _balcony_.\n    Prospeculum, _small telescope_.\n    \u2020Pistola, _pistol_.\n    Pulvis nitratus, _gunpowder_.\n    Riscus, _a rude box_, _a chest_.\n    Rubus, _bramble_, as _blackberry bush_.\n    Rutabulum, _coal rake_.\n    \u2020Sago, -onis, _sago_.\n    \u2020Sapo, -onis, _soap_.\n    \u2020Saccharum, _sugar_.\n    Scapha, _ship\u2019s boat_.\n    Scrinium, _dispatch box_, _desk_.\n    S\u012bnum, _a bowl_.\n    Stellio, _small lizard_.\n    Sublica, _pile_, _stake_, _support_.\n    Subula, _bodkin_.\n    Succ\u012bdia, _a slice_.\n    Succulae, _a windlass?_\n    Sudarium, _pocket handkerchief_.\n    Suffercio, _I load (a gun)_.\n    Supparum, _topsail_.\n    Tibiales, _stockings_.\n    Tolleno, _a crane for lifting_.\n    Traha, _a sledge_; _dimin._ \u2020Trahula.\n    Trochlea, _a pulley_; _dimin._ Trochleola.\n    Tunica, _a shirt_.\n    Vespertilio, _a (flying) bat_.\n    Zea, _maize_.\nFOOTNOTES\n[A] A crane,--with windlass.\n[B] A buoy.\n[C] The cabin.\n[D] Windlass.\n[E] Pulleys.\n[F] Orange trees.\n[G] He is looking southward.\n[H] Stockings.\n[I] A rolling pin.\n[J] Shirt.\n[K] Stockings.\n[L] Monkey.\n[M] Gooseberries.\n[N] Bodkin.\n[O] Select.\n[P] Auger.\n[Q] Cutter (chisel?)\n[R] All but, _tantum non_.\n[S] Thatch.\n[T] Hood.\n[U] A gutter.\n[V] Glazier\u2019s putty.\n[W] A Greek word: _Bustards_.\n[X] Make lighter.\n[Y] Frying Pan.\n    Among WORKS by F. W. NEWMAN, are--\n    HIAWATHA, in Rhythmical Latin. 12mo. 2s. 6d.\n    TRANSLATIONS OF ENGLISH POETRY INTO LATIN VERSE. Crown 8vo.\n    TRANSLATION OF HORACE\u2019S ODES into unrhymed specific\n    stanzas. Post 8vo. 4s.\n    TRANSLATION OF HOMER\u2019S ILIAD into the modern Greek Epic\n    verse. Royal 8vo. 10s. 6d.\n    HOMERIC TRANSLATION: a Reply to Professor MATTHEW ARNOLD.\n    SUGGESTED IMPROVEMENTS OF THE TEXT OF AESCHYLUS. Demy 8vo.\n    ATTEMPT TO RENDER THE IGUVINE INSCRIPTIONS INTO LATIN. 8vo.\n    PUBLISHED BY\n    TR\u00dcBNER & CO., 57 & 59, LUDGATE HILL,\n    LONDON.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Rebilius Cruso\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "E-text prepared by Steven Gibbs and the Project Gutenberg Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team\nTHE HISTORY OF THE REMARKABLE LIFE OF JOHN SHEPPARD\nContaining a Particular Account of His Many Robberies and Escapes,\n     His robbing the Shop of Mr. _Bains_ in White-Horse-Yard of 24\n     Yards of Fustian. Of his breaking and entering the House of\n     the said Mr. _Bains_, and stealing in Goods and Money to the\n     Value of 20 l. Of his robbing the House of Mr. _Charles_ in\n     _May Fair_ of Money, Rings, Plate, &c to the Value of 30 l. Of\n     his robbing the House of Mrs. _Cook_ in _Clare-Market,_ along\n     with his pretended Wife, and his Brother, to the Value of\n     between 50 and 60 l. Of his breaking the Shop of Mr. _Philips_\n     in _Drury-Lane,_ with the same Persons, and stealing Goods of\n     small Value. Of his entering the House of Mr. _Carter_, a\n     Mathematical Instrument Maker in _Wytch Street_, along with\n     _Anthony Lamb_ and _Charles Grace_, and robbing of Mr.\n     _Barton_, a Master Taylor who lodged therein, of Goods and\n     Bonds to the Value of near 300 l. Of his breaking and entering\n     the House of Mr. _Kneebone_, a Woollen-Draper, near the _New\n     Church_ in the _Strand_, in Company of _Joseph Blake_ alias\n     _Blewskin_ and _William Field_, and stealing Goods to the\n     Value of near 50 l. Of his robbing of Mr. _Pargiter_ on the\n     Highway near the Turnpike, on the Road _Hampstead_, along with\n     the said _Blewskin_. Of his robbing a Lady's Woman in her\n     Mistress's Coach on the same Road. Of his robbing also a Stage\n     Coach, with the said _Blewskin_, on the _Hampstead_ Road.\n     Likewise of his breaking the Shop of Mr. _Martin_ in\n     _Fleet-street,_ and stealing 3 silver Watches of 15 l. Value.\n     A particular Account of his rescuing his pretended Wife from\n     St. _Giles's_ Round House. Of the wonderful Escape himself\n     made from the said Round-House. Of the miraculous Escape he\n     and his said pretended Wife made together from _New-Prison_,\n     on the 25th of _May_ last. Of his surprizing Escape from the\n     Condemn'd Hold of _Newgate_ on the 31st of _August_: Together\n     with the true manner of his being retaken; and of his\n     Behaviour in _Newgate_, till the most astonishing, and never\n     to be forgotten Escape he made from thence, in the Night of\n     the 15th of October. The Whole taken from the most authentick\n     Accounts, as the Informations of divers Justices of the Peace,\n     the several Shop-keepers above-mentioned, the principal\n     Officers of _Newgate_ and _New Prison_, and from the\n     Confession of _Sheppard_ made to the Rev. Mr. _Wagstaff_, who\n     officiated for the Ordinary at _Newgate_.\n_LONDON_: Printed and sold by JOHN APLEDEE in _Black-Fryers_,\nJ. ISTED, at the _Golden-Ball_ near _Chancery Lane_ in\n_Fleet Street_, and the Booksellers of _London_ and _Westminster._\n(Price One Shilling.)\nTO THE CITIZENS\nOF\n_London_ and _Westminster_.\nGENTLEMEN,\n_Experience has confirm'd you in that everlasting_ Maxim, _that there is\nno other way to protect the_ Innocent, _but by Punishing the_ Guilty.\n_Crimes ever were, and ever must be unavoidably frequent in such\npopulous Cities as yours are, being the necessary Consequences, either\nof the_ Wants, _or the Depravity, of the lowest part of the_ humane\n_Species_.\n_At this time the most flagrant Offences, as_ Burning of Dwellings;\nBurglaries, _and_ Highway Robberies _abound; and_ Frauds _common_\nFelonies, _and_ Forgeries _are practic'd without Number; thus not only\nyour Properties, but even your very Lives are every way struck at_.\n_The_ Legislative Power _has not been wanting in providing necessary and\nwholesome Laws against these_ Evils, _the executive part whereof\n(according to your great Privileges) is lodged in your own Hands: And\nthe Administration hath at all times applyed proper Remedies and\nRegulations to the_ Defects _which have happen'd in the_ Magistracy\n_more immediately under their Jurisdiction_.\n_Through the just and salutary Severities of the Magistrates, publick\nexcessive_ Gaming _has been in a manner Surpress'd; and some late\nExamples of divine Vengeance have overtaken certain of the most\nnotorious lewd_ Prostitutes _of the Town, which together with the\nlaudable endeavours of the great and worthy_ Societies, _has given no\nsmall check to that enormous and spreading_ Vice.\n_But here's a_ Criminal _bids Defiance to your_ Laws, _and _Justice _who\ndeclar'd and has manifested that the_ Bars _are not made that can either\nkeep him_ Out, _or keep him_ In, _and accordingly hath a second time\nfled from the very_ Bosom Of Death.\n_His History will astonish! and is not compos'd of Fiction, Fable, or\nStories plac'd at York_, Rome, _or_ Jamaica, _but_ Facts _done at your\nDoors_, Facts _unheard of, altogether new, Incredible, and yet\nUncontestable_.\n_He is gone once more upon his wicked Range in the World. Restless\nVengeance is pursuing, and_ Gentlemen '_tis to be hoped that she will be\nassisted by your Endeavours to bring to Justice this notorious\nOffender_.\nTHE LIFE OF\n_JOHN SHEPPARD, &c._\nThis _John Sheppard_, a Youth both in Age and Person, tho' an old Man in\nSin; was Born in the Parish of _Stepney_ near _London_, in the Year\n1702, a Son, Grandson, and great Grandson of a _Carpenter_: His Father\ndied when he was so very Young that he could not recollect that ever he\nsaw him. Thus the burthen of his Maintenance, together with his\nBrother's and Sister's, lay upon the Shoulders of the Widow Mother, who\nsoon procured an Admittance of her Son _John_ into the _Work-House_ in\n_Bishopsgate-street,_ where he continued for the space of a Year and\nhalf, and in that time received an Education sufficient to qualifie him\nfor the Trade his Mother design'd him, _viz_. a _Carpenter_: Accordingly\nshe was recommended to Mr. _Wood_ in _Witch-Street_ near _Drury-Lane_,\nas a Master capable of entertaining and instructing her Son: They agreed\nand Bound he was for the space of seven Years; the Lad proved an early\nproficient, had a ready and ingenious Hand, and soon became Master of\nhis Business, and gave entire Satisfaction to his Master Customers, and\nhad the Character of a very sober and orderly Boy. But alas unhappy\nYouth! before he had compleated six Years of his Apprenticeship, he\ncommenced a fatal Acquaintance with one _Elizabeth Lyon_, otherwise\ncall'd _Edgworth Bess_, from a Town of that Name in _Middlesex_ where\nshe was Born, the reputed Wife of a Foot Soldier, and who lived a wicked\nand debauch'd Life; and our young _Carpenter_ became Enamour'd of her,\nand they must Cohabit together as Man and Wife.\nNow was laid the Foundation of his Ruin; _Sheppard_ grows weary of the\nYoke of Servitude, and began to dispute with his Master; telling him\nthat his way of Jobbing from House to House was not sufficient to\nfurnish him with a due Experience in his Trade; and that if he would not\nset out to undertake some Buildings, he would step into the World for\nbetter Information. Mr. _Wood_ a mild, sober, honest Man, indulg'd him;\nand Mrs. _Wood_ with Tears, exhorted him against the Company of this\nlewd Prostitute: But her Man prompted and harden'd by his HARLOT, D---\nn'd _her Blood_, and threw a Stick at his Mistress, and beat her to the\nGround. And being with his Master at Work at Mr. _Britt's_ the _Sun_\nAle-house near _Islington_, upon a very trivial Occasion fell upon his\nMaster, and beat and bruised him in a most barbarous and shameful\nManner. Such a sudden and deplorable Change was there in the Behaviour\nof this promising young Man. Next ensued a neglect of Duty, both to God\nand his Master, lying out of Nights, perpetual Jarrings, and\nAnimosities; these and such like, were the Consequences of his intimacy\nwith this she _Lyon_; who by the sequel will appear to have been a main\nloadstone in attracting of him up to this Eminence of Guilt.\nMr. _Wood_ having Reason to suspect, that _Sheppard_ had robb'd a\nNeighbour, began to be in great Fear and Terror for himself. And when\nhis Man came not Home in due season at Nights bar'd him out; but he made\na mere jest of the Locks and Bolts, and enter'd in, and out at Pleasure;\nand when Mr. _Wood_ and his Wife have had all the Reason in the World to\nbelieve him Lock't out, they have found him very quiet in his Bed the\nnext Morning, such was the power of his early Magick.\n_Edgworth Bess_ having stol'n a Gold Ring from a Gentleman, whom she had\npick'd up in the Streets, was sent to St. _Giles's_ Round-house;\n_Sheppard_ went immediately to his Consort, and after a short Discourse\nwith Mr. _Brown_ the Beadle, and his Wife, who had the Care of the\nPlace, he fell upon the poor old Couple, took the Keys from them, and\nlet his Lady out at the Door in spight of all the Out-cryes, and\nOpposition they were capable of making.\nAbout _July_ 1723, He was by his Master sent to perform a Repair, at the\nHouse of Mr. _Bains_, a Piece-Broker in _White-Horse Yard_; he from\nthence stole a Roll of Fustain, containing 24 Yards, which was\nafterwards found in his Trunk. This is supposed to be the first Robbery\nhe ever committed and it was not long e're he Repeated another upon this\nsame Mr. _Bains_, by breaking into his House in the Night-time, and\ntaking out of the _Till_ seven Pounds in Money, and Goods to the value\nof fourteen Pounds more. How he enter'd this House, was a Secret till\nhis being last committed to _Newgate_, when he confessed that he took up\nthe Iron Bars at the Cellar Window, and after he had done his Business,\nhe nailed them down again, so that Mr. _Bains_ never believed his House\nhad been broke; and an innocent Woman a Lodger in the House lay all the\nwhile under the weight of a suspicion of committing the Robbery.\n_Sheppard_ and his Master had now parted, ten Months before the\nexpiration of his Apprenticeship, a woeful parting to the former; he was\ngone from a good and careful Patronage, and lay expos'd to, and comply'd\nwith the Temptations of the most wicked Wretches this Town could afford\nas _Joseph Blake_, alias _Blewskins, William Field, Doleing, James\nSykes_, alias _Hell_ and _Fury_, which last was the first that betray'd,\nand put him into the Hands of Justice, as will presently appear.\nHaving deserted his Master's Service, he took Shelter in the House of\nMr. _Charles_ in _May-Fair_, near _Piccadilly_, and his Landlord having\na Necessity for some Repairs in his House, engag'd one Mr. _Panton_ a\n_Carpenter_ to Undertake them, and _Sheppard_ to assist him as a\nJourneyman; but on the 23rd of _October_, 1723, e're the Work was\ncompleat, _Sheppard_ took Occasion to rob the People of the Effects\nfollowing, _viz._ seven Pound ten Shillings in Specie, five large silver\nSpoons, six plain Forks ditto, four Tea-Spoons, six plain Gold Rings,\nand a Cypher Ring; four Suits of Wearing Apparel, besides Linnen, to a\nconsiderable value. This Fact he confess'd to the Reverend Mr.\n_Wagstaff_ before his Escape from the Condemn'd Hold of _Newgate_.\n_Sheppard_ had a Brother, nam'd _Thomas_, a _Carpenter_ by Profession,\ntho' a notorious Thief and House-breaker by Practice. This _Thomas_\nbeing committed to _Newgate_ for breaking the House of Mrs. _Mary Cook_\na _Linnen-Draper_, in _Clare-street, Clare-Market_, on the 5th of\n_February_ last, and stealing Goods to the value of between 50, and 60\nl. he impeach'd his Brother _John Sheppard_, and _Edgworth Bess_ as\nbeing concerned with him in the Fact; and these three were also Charg'd\nwith being concern'd together, in breaking the House of Mr. _William\nPhillips_ in _Drury-Lane_, and stealing divers Goods, the Property of\nMrs. _Kendrick_ a Lodger in the House, on the 14th of the said\n_February_: All possible endeavours were us'd by Mrs. _Cook_ and Mr.\n_Phillips_, to get _John Sheppard_ and _Edgworth Bess_ Apprehended, but\nto no purpose, till the following Accident.\n_Sheppard_ was now upon his wicked Range in _London_, committing\nRobberies every where at Discretion; but one Day meeting with his\nAcquaintance, _James Sykes_, alias _Hell_ and _Fury_, sometimes a\nChair-man, and at others a Running Foot-man. This _Sykes_ invited him to\ngo to one _Redgate's_, a Victualling-house near the _Seven Dials_, to\nplay at _Skettles_, _Sheppard_ comply'd, and _Sykes_ secretly sent for\nMr. _Price_ a Constable in St. _Giles's Parish_, and Charg'd him with\nhis Friend _Sheppard_ for the Robbing of Mrs. _Cook_, &c. _Sheppard_ was\ncarried before Justice _Parry_, who order'd him to St. _Giles's_\nRound-house till the next Morning for farther Examination: He was\nConfin'd in the Upper part of the Place, being two Stories from the\nGround, but 'ere two Hours came about, by only the help of a Razor, and\nthe Stretcher of a Chair, he broke open the Top of the Round house, and\ntying together a Sheet and Blanket, by them descended into the\nChurch-yard and Escap'd, leaving the Parish to Repair the Damage, and\nRepent of the Affront put upon his Skill and Capacity.\nOn the 19th of _May_ last in the Evening, _Sheppard_ with another Robber\nnamed _Benson_, were passing thro' _Leicester-fields_, where a Gentleman\nstood accusing a Woman with an attempt to steal his Watch, a Mobb was\ngathered about the Disputants, and _Sheppard's_ Companion being a\n_Master_, got in amongst them and pick'd the Gentleman's Pocket in good\nearnest of the Watch; the Scene was surprizingly chang'd, from an\nimaginary Robbery to a real one; and in a moment ensued an Out-cry of\n_stop Thief_, _Sheppard_ and _Benson_ took to their Heels, and\n_Sheppard_ was seiz'd by a Serjeant of the Guard at _Leicester_ House,\ncrying out _stop Thief_ with much earnestness. He was convey'd to St.\n_Ann's Round House_ in _Soho_, and kept secure till the next Morning,\nwhen _Edgworth Bess_ came to visit him, who was seiz'd also; they were\ncarried before Justice _Walters_, when the People in _Drury-Lane_ and\n_Clare-Market_ appeared, and charged them with the Robberies\naforemention'd: But _Sheppard_ pretending to Impeach certain of his\nAccomplices, the Justice committed them to _New-Prison_, with intent to\nhave them soon removed to _Newgate_, unless there came from them some\nuseful Discoveries. _Sheppard_ was now a second time in the hands of\nJustice, but how long he intended to keep in them, the Reader will soon\nbe able to Judge.\nHe and his MATE were now in a strong and well guarded Prison, himself\nloaded with a pair of double _Links_ and _Basils_[17] of about fourteen\npounds weight, and confined together in the safest Appartment call'd\n_Newgate Ward_; _Sheppard_ conscious of his Crimes, and knowing the\n_Information_ he had made to be but a blind Amusement that would avail\nhim nothing; he began to Meditate an Escape. They had been thus detained\nfor about four Days, and their Friends having the Liberty of seeing\nthem, furnish'd him with Implements proper for his Design, accordingly\nMr. _Sheppard_ goes to work, and on the 25th of May being _Whit-son\nMonday_ at about two of the Clock in the Morning, he had compleated a\npracticable breach, and sawed of his Fetters; having with unheard of\nDiligence and Dexterity, cut off an Iron Bar from the Window, and taken\nout a Muntin, or Bar of the most solid Oak of about nine Inches in\nthickness, by boring it thro' in many Places, a work of great Skill and\nLabour; they had still five and twenty Foot to descend from the Ground;\n_Sheppard_ fasten'd a Sheet and Blanket to the Bars, and causes Madam to\ntake off her Gown and Petticoat, and sent her out first, and she being\nmore Corpulent than himself, it was with great Pain and Difficulty that\nhe got her through the Interval, and observing his Directions, was\ninstantly down, and more frighted than hurt; the _Phylosopher_ follow'd,\nand lighted with Ease and Pleasure; But where are they Escap'd to? Why\nout of one Prison into another. The Reader is to understand, that the\n_New Prison_ and _Clerkenwell Bridewell_ lye Contiguous to one another,\nand they are got into the Yard of the latter, and have a Wall of\ntwenty-two Foot high to Scale, before their Liberty is perfected;\n_Sheppard_ far from being unprepared to surmount this Difficulty, has\nhis Gimblets and Peircers ready, and makes a Scaleing-Ladder. The\nKeepers and Prisoners of both Places are a sleep in their Beds; he\nMounts his _Bagage_, and in less than ten Minutes carries both her and\nhimself over this wall, and compleats an entire Escape. Altho' his\nEscape from the Condemn'd Hold of _Newgate_, has made a far greater\nNoise in the World, than that from this Prison hath. It has been allow'd\nby all the Jayl-Keepers in _London_, that one so Miraculous was never\nperform'd before in _England_; the broken Chains and Bars are kept at\n_New Prison_ to Testifie, and preserve the Memory of this extraordinary\nVillain.\n_Sheppard_ not warn'd by this Admonition, returns like a _Dog to his\nVomit_, and comes Secretly into his Master _Wood's_ Neighbourhood in\n_Witch-street_, and conceits Measures with one _Anthony Lamb_, an\nApprentice to Mr. _Carter_ a Mathematical Instrument-maker, for Robbing\nof Mr. _Barton_ a Master Taylor; a Man of Worth and Reputation, who\nLodg'd in Mr. _Carter's_ House. _Charles Grace_, a graceless Cooper was\nlet into the Secret, and consented, and resolved to Act his Part. The\n16th of _June_ last was appointed, _Lamb_ accordingly lets _Grace_ and\n_Sheppard_ into the House at Mid-Night; and they all go up to Mr.\n_Bartons_ Appartment well arm'd with Pistols, and enter'd his Rooms,\nwithout being disturb'd. _Grace_ was Posted at Mr. _Barton's_ Bedside\nwith a loaded Pistol, and positive Orders to shoot him through the Head,\nif in case he awak'd. _Sheppard_ being engag'd in opening the Trunks and\nBoxes, the mean while. It luckily happen'd for Mr. _Barton_, that he\nslept Sounder than usual that Night, as having come from a Merry-making\nwith some Friends; tho' poor Man little Dreaming in what dreadful\nCircumstances. They carried off in Notes, and Bonds, Guineas, Cloaths,\nMade and Unmade, to the value of between two and three Hundred Pounds;\nbesides a Padesuoy Suit of Cloaths, worth about eighteen or twenty\nPounds more; which having been made for a Corpulent Gentleman,\n_Sheppard_ had them reduc'd, and fitted for his own Size and War, as\ndesigning to Appear and make a Figure among the _Beau Monde_. _Grace_\nand _Sheppard_, having disposed of the Goods at an Ale-house in\n_Lewkenors Lane_ (a Rendezvous of Robbers and Ruffians) took their\nFlight, and _Grace_ had not been since heard of. _Lamb_ was apprehended,\nand carried before Justice _Newton_, and made an ample Confession; and\nthere being nothing but that against him at his Tryal, and withal, a\nfavourable Prosecution, he came off with a Sentence of Transportation\nonly. He as well as _Sheppard_ has since confirm'd all the above\nparticulars, and with this Addition, _viz_. That it was Debated among\nthem to have Murder'd all the People in the House, save one Person.\nAbout the latter End of the same Month, _June_, Mr. _Kneebone_, a\nWoollen-Draper near the New Church in the _Strand_, receiv'd a Caution\nfrom the Father of _Anthony Lamb_, who intimated to Mr. _Kneebone_ that\nhis House was intended to be broke open and robb'd that very Night. Mr.\n_Kneebone_ prepar'd for the Event, ordering his Servants to sit up, and\ngave Directions to the Watchman in the Street to observe his House: At\nabout two in the Morning _Sheppard_ and his Gang were about the Door, a\nMaid-Servant went to listen, and heard one of the Wretches, say, _Da--n\nhim, if they could not enter that Night, they would another, and would\nhave 300l. of his_, (meaning) Mr. _Kneebone's_ Money. They went off, and\nnothing more was heard of them till _Sunday_ the 12th Day of _July_\nfollowing, when _Joseph Blake_, alias _Blewskins, John Sheppard_, and\n_William Field_ (as himself Swears) came about 12 o'clock at Night, and\ncut two large Oaken-Bars over the Cellar-Window, at the back part of the\nHouse in _Little-Drury-Lane_, and so entered; Mr. _Kneebone_, and his\nFamily being at Rest, they proceeded to open a Door at the Foot of the\nCellar-Stairs, with three Bolts, and a large Padlock upon it, and then\ncame up into the Shop and wrench'd off the Hasp, and Padlock that went\nover the Press, and arriv'd at their desir'd Booty; they continu'd in\nthe House for three Hours, and carry'd off with them One Hundred and\neight Yards of Broad Woollen Cloth, five Yards of blue Bays, a light\nTye-Wig, and Beaver-Hat, two Silver Spoons, an Handkerchief, and a\nPenknife. In all to the value of near fifty Pounds.\nThe _Sunday_ following, being the 19th of _July, Sheppard_ and\n_Blewskins_ were out upon the _Hampstead_ Road, and there stopt a Coach\nwith a Ladies Woman in it, from whom they took but Half-a-Crown; all the\nMoney then about her; the Foot-man behind the Coach came down, and\nexerted himself; but _Sheppard_ sent him in hast up to his Post again,\nby threat of his Pistol.\nThe next Night being the 20th of _july_, about Nine, they Robb'd Mr.\n_Pargiter_, a Chandler of _Hamstead_, near the Halfway-House;\n_Sheppard_ after his being taken at _Finchley_ was particularly\nexamin'd about this Robbery. The Reverend Mr. _Wagstaff_ having receiv'd\na Letter from an unknown Hand, with two Questions, to be propos'd to\n_Sheppard_, _viz._ Whether he did Rob _John Pargiter_, on _Monday_ the\n20th of _July_, about Nine at Night, between the _Turnpike_ and\n_Hamstead_; How much Money he took from him? Whither _Pargiter_ was\nDrunk, or not, and if he had Rings or Watch about him, when robb'd?\nwhich, Request was comply'd with, and _Sheppard_ affirm'd, that Mr.\n_Pargiter_ was very much in Liquor, having a great Coat on; neither\nRings on his Fingers or Watch, and only three Shillings in his Pocket,\nwhich they took from him, and that _Blewskins_ knock him down twice with\nthe Butt-end of his Pistol to make sure Work, (tho' Excess of drink had\ndone that before) but _Sheppard_ did in kindness raise him up as often.\nThe next Night, _July_ 21, they stopt a Stage-Coach, and took from a\nPassenger in it, Twenty-two Shillings, and were so expeditious in the\nMatter, that _not two Words were made about the Bargain_.\nNow Mr. _Sheppard's_ long and wicked Course seemingly draws towards a\nPeriod. Mr. _Kneebone_ having apply'd to _Jonathan Wild_, and set forth\nAdvertisements in the Papers, complaining of his Robbery. On _Tuesday_\nthe 22d of _July_ at Night _Edgworth Bess_ was taken in a Brandy-shop,\nnear _Temple-Bar_ by _Jonathan Wild_; she being much terrify'd,\ndiscover'd where _Sheppard_ was: A Warrant was accordingly issued by\nJustice _Blackerby_, and the next Day he was Apprehended, at the House\nof _Blewskin's_ Mother, in _Rose-Mary-Lane_, by one _Quilt_, a Domestick\nof Mr. _Wild's_ though not without great opposition, for, he clapt a\nloaded, Pistol to _Quilt's_ Breast, and attempted to shoot him, but the\nPistol miss'd fire; he was brought back to _New Prison_, confin'd in the\nDungeon; and the next Day carried before Justice _Blackerby_. Upon his\nExamination he Confess'd the three Robberies on the Highway\naforemention'd, as also the Robbing of Mr. _Bains_, Mr. _Barton_, and\nMr. _Kneebone_, he was committed to Newgate, and at the Sessions of\n_Oyer_ and _Terminer_, and Goal delivery, holden at the _Old-Baily_, on\nthe 12th, 13th and 14th of _August_, he was try'd upon three several\nindictments, _viz._ First for breaking the House of _William Philips_.\n_John Sheppard_, of the Parish of St. _Martin_ in _the Fields_, was\nindicted for breaking the House of _William Philips_, and stealing\ndivers Goods, the 14th of _February_ last. But there not being\nsufficient Evidence against the Prisoner, he was acquitted.\nHe was also indicted a Second Time, of St. _Clement Danes_, for breaking\nthe House of _Mary Cook_, the 5th of _February_ last, and stealing\ndivers Goods: But the Evidence against the Prisoner being defficient as\nto this Indictment also, he was acquitted.\nHe was also indicted the Third Time, of St. _Mary Savoy_, for breaking\nthe House of _William Kneebone_, in the Night-Time, and stealing, 108\nYards of Woollen Cloth, the 12th of _July_ last. The Prosecutor depos'd,\nThat the Prisoner had some Time since been his Servant, and when he went\nto Bed, the Time mentioned in the Indictment, about 11 a-Clock at Night,\nhe saw all the Doors and Windows fast; but was call'd up about four in\nthe Morning, and found his House broke open, the Bars of a Cellar-Window\nhaving been cut, and the Bolts of the Door that comes up Stairs drawn,\nand the Padlock wrench'd off, and the Shutter in the Shop broken, and\nhis Goods gone; whereupon suspecting the Prisoner, he having committed\nill Actions thereabouts before, he acquainted _Jonathan Wild_ with it,\nand he procur'd him to be apprehended. That he went to the Prisoners in\nNew _Prison_, and asking how he could be so ungrateful to rob him, after\nhe had shown him so much Kindness? The Prisoner own'd he had been\nungrateful in doing so, informing him of several Circumstances as to the\nManner of committing the Fact, but said he had been drawn into it by ill\nCompany. _Jonathan Wild_, depos'd, The Prosecutor came to him, and\ndesir'd him to enquire after his Goods that had been stolen, telling him\nhe suspected the Prisoner to have been concern'd in the Robbery, he\nhaving before committed some Robberies in the Neighbourhood. That\ninquiring after him, and having heard of him before, he was inform'd\nthat he was an Acquaintance of _Joseph Blake_, alias _Blewskins_, and\n_William Field_: Whereupon he sent for _William Field_, who came to him;\nupon which he told him, if he would make an ingenuous Confession, he\nbeliev'd he could prevail with the Court to make him an Evidence. That\nhe did make a Discovery of the Prisoner, upon which he was apprehended,\nand also of others since convicted, and gave an Account of some Parcels\nof the Cloth, which were found accordingly. _William Field_ depos'd,\nThat the Prisoner told him, and _Joseph Blake_, that he knew a _Ken_\nwhere they might get something of Worth. That they went to take a View\nof the Prosecutor's House, but disprov'd of the Attempt, as not thinking\nit easy to be perform'd; But the Prisoner perswaded them that it might\neasily be done, he knowing the House, he having liv'd with the\nProsecutor. That thereupon he cut the Cellar Bar, went into the Cellar,\ngot into the Shop, and brought out three Parcels of Cloth, which they\ncarried away. The Prisoner had also confest the Fact when he was\napprehended, and before the Justice. The Fact being plainly prov'd, the\nJury found him guilty of the Indictment.\nSentence of Death was pronounc'd upon him accordingly. Several other\nProsecutions might have been brought against him, but this was thought\nsufficient to rid the World of so Capital an Offender: He beg'd\nearnestly for Transportation, to the most extream Foot of his Majesty's\nDominions; and pleaded Youth, and Ignorance as the Motive which had\nprecipitated him into the Guilt; but the Court deaf to his\nImportunities, as knowing him, and his repeated Crimes to be equally\nflagrant, gave him no satisfactory Answer: He return'd to his dismal\nAbode the Condemn'd Hold, where were Nine more unhappy Wretches in as\ndreadful Circumstances as himself. The Court being at _Windsor_, the\nMalefactors had a longer Respite than is usual; during that Recess,\n_James Harman_, _Lumley_, _Davis_ and _Sheppard_ agreed upon an Escape,\nconcerted Measures, and provided Instruments to make it effectual; but\nput off the Execution of their Design, on Account the two Gentlemen\nhaving their hopes of Life daily renewed by the favourable Answers they\nreceiv'd from some considerable Persons; but those vanishing the day\nbefore their Execution, and finding their Sentence irreversible, they\ntwo dropt their hopes, together with the Design, they form'd for an\nEscape, and so in earnest prepar'd to meet Death on the Morrow, (which\nthey accordingly did.). 'Twas on this Day Mr _Davis_ gave _Sheppard_ the\nWatch Springs, Files, Saws, _&c._ to Effect his own Release; and knowing\nthat a Warrant was Hourly expected for his Execution with Two others, on\nthe _Friday_ following; he thought it high time to look about him, for\nhe had waited his Tryal, saw his Conviction, and heard his Sentence with\nsome patience; but finding himself irrespitably decreed for Death, he\ncould sit passive no longer, and on the very Day of the Execution of the\nformer; whilst they were having their Fetters taken off, in order for\ngoing to the Tree, that Day he began to saw, _Saturday_ made a progress;\nbut _Sunday_ omitted, by Reason of the Concourse in the _Lodge_:\n_Edgworth Bess_ having been set at Liberty, had frequent Access to him,\nwith others of his Acquaintance. On _Monday_ the Death _Warrant_ came\nfrom _Windsor_, appointing that he, together with _Joseph Ward_ and\n_Anthony Upton_ should be Executed on the _Friday_ following, being the\n4th of _September_. The Keepers acquainted him therewith, and desired\nhim to make good use of that short Time. He thank'd them, said _he would\nfollow their Advice_, and _prepare_. _Edgworth Bess_, and another Woman\nhad been with him at the Door of the Condemn'd Hold best part of the\nAfternoon, between five and six he desir'd the other Prisoners, except\n_Stephen Fowles_ to remain above, while he offer'd something in private\nto his Friends at the Door; they comply'd, and in this interval he got\nthe Spike asunder, which made way for the Skeleton to pass with his\nHeels foremost, by the Assistance of _Fowles_, whom he most ungenerously\nbetray'd to the Keepers after his being retaken, and the Fellow was as\nseverely punish'd for it.\nHaving now got clear of his Prison, he took Coach disguis'd in a Night\nGown at the corner of the _Old Baily_, along with a Man who waited for\nhim in the Street (and is suppos'd to be _Page_ the Butcher) ordering\nthe Coachman to drive to _Black-Fryers Stairs_, where his prostitute\ngave him the Meeting, and they three took Boat, and went a Shoar at the\n_Horse-Ferry_ at _Westminster_, and at the _White-Hart_ they went in,\nDrank, and stay'd sometime; thence they adjourn'd to a Place in\n_Holbourn_, where by the help of a Saw he quitted the Chains he had\nbrought with him from _Newgate_; and then like a Freeman took his Ramble\nthrough the City and came to _Spittle-Fields_, and there lay with\n_Edgeworth Bess_.\nIt may be easy to imagine what an alarm his Escape gave to the Keepers\nof _Newgate_, three of their People being at the farther End of the\n_Lodge_, engag'd in a Discourse concerning his wonderful Escape from\n_New-Prison,_ and what Caution ought to be us'd, lest he should give\nthem the slip, at that very Instant as he perfected it.\nOn _Tuesday_ he sent for _William Page_ an Apprentice to a Butcher in\n_Clare-Market_, who came to him, and being Pennyless, he desir'd _Page_\nto give him what Assistance he could to make his way, and being a\nNeighbour and Acquaintance, he comply'd with it; but e're he would do\nany thing, he consulted a near Relation, who as he said, encourag'd him\nin it; nay, put him upon it, so meeting with this Success in his\nApplication to his Friend, and probable an Assistance in the Pocket, he\ncame to _Sheppard_ having bought him a new blue _Butcher's_ Frock, and\nanother for himself, and so both took their Rout to _Warnden_ in\n_Northamptonshire_, where they came to a Relation of _Page's_, who\nreceiv'd and Entertain'd them kindly, the People lying from their own\nBed to Accommodate them. _Sheppard_ pretending to be a _Butcher's_ Son\nin _Clare-Market_, who was going farther in the Country to his Friends,\nand that _Page_ was so kind as to Accompany him; but they as well as\ntheir Friend became tir'd of one another; the _Butchers_ having but one\nShilling left, and the People poor, and Consequently unable to Subsist\ntwo such Fellows, after a stay of three or four Days, they return'd, and\ncame for _London_, and reach'd the City on _Tuesday_ the 8th of\n_September_, calling by the way at _Black-Mary's-Hole_, and Drinking\nwith several of their Acquaintance, and then came into _Bishopsgate\nstreet_, to one _Cooley's_ a _Brandy-shop_; where a _Cobler_ being at\nWork in his Stall, stept out and Swore _ther was_ Sheppard, _Sheppard_\nhearing him, departed immediately. In the Evening they came into\n_Fleet-street_, at about Eight of the Clock, and observing Mr. _Martins_\na Watchmaker's Shop to be open, and a little Boy only to look after it:\n_Page_ goes in and asks the Lad whether Mr. _Taylor_ a _Watchmaker_\nlodg'd in the House? being answer'd in the Negative, he came away, and\nReports the Disposition of the Place: _Sheppard_ now makes Tryal of his\nold Master-peice; fixeth a Nail Peircer into the Door post, fastens the\nKnocker thereto with Packthread, breaks the Glass, and takes out three\n_Silver Watches_ of 15 l. value, the Boy seeing him take them, but could\nnot get out to pursue him, by reason of his Contrivance. One of the\nWatches he Pledg'd for a Guinea and Half. The same Night they came into\n_Watch-street_, _Sheppard_ going into his _Master's_ Yard, and calling\nfor his Fellow 'Prentice, his Mistress heard, knew his Voice, and was\ndreadfully frightened; he next went to the _Cock_ and _Pye Ale-House_ in\n_Drury-Lane_, sent for a Barber his Acquaintance, drank Brandy and eat\nOysters in the view of several people. _Page_ waiting all the while at\nthe Door, the whole Neighbourhood being alarm'd, yet none durst attempt\nhim, for fear of Pistols, _&c._ He had vow'd Revenge upon a poor Man as\nkept a Dairy-Cellar, at the End of _White-Horse-Yard_, who having seen\nhim at _Islington_ after his Escape, and engag'd not to speak of it,\nbroke his Promise; wherefore _Sheppard_ went to his Residence took the\nDoor off the Hinges and threw it down amongst all the Man's Pans,\nPipkins, and caus'd a Deluge of Cream and Milk all over the Cellar.\nThis Night he had a narrow Escape, one Mr. _Ireton_ a Sheriffs Officer\nseeing him and _Page_ pass thro' _Drury-Lane_, at about Ten o'clock\npursu'd 'em, and laid hold of _Page_ instead of _Sheppard_, who got off,\nthus _Ireton_, missing the main Man, and thinking _Page_ of no\nConsequence, let him go after him.\n_Edgworth Bess_ had been apprehended by _Jonathan Wild_, and by Sir\n_Francis Forbes_ one of the Aldermen of _London_, committed to the\n_Poultry-Compter_, for being aiding and assisting to _Sheppard_ in his\nEscape; the Keepers and others terrify'd and purg'd her as much as was\npossible to discover where he was, but had it been in her Inclination,\nit was not in her Power so to do, as it manifestly appear'd soon after.\nThe People about the _Strand_, _Witch-street_ and _Drury-Lane_, whom he\nhad Robb'd, and who had prosecuted him were under great Apprensions and\nTerror, and in particular Mr. _Kneebone_, on whom he vow'd a bloody\nRevenge; because he refus'd to sign a Petition in his behalf to the\n_Recorder_ of _London_. This Gentleman was forc'd to keep arm'd People\nup in his House every Night till he was Re-taken, and had the same\nfortify'd in the strongest manner. Several other Shop-keepers in this\nNeighbourhood were also put to great Expence and Trouble to Guard\nthemselves against this dreadful Villian.\nThe Keepers of _Newgate_, whom the rash World loaded with Infamy,\nstigmatiz'd and branded with the Title of Persons guilty of Bribery;\nfor Connivance at his Escape, they and what Posse in their Power, either\nfor Love or Money did Contribute their utmost to undeceive a wrong\nnotion'd People. Their Vigilance was remarkably indefatigable, sparing\nneither Money nor Time, Night nor Day to bring him back to his deserv'd\nJustice. After many Intelligences, which they endeavour'd for, and\nreceiv'd, they had one which prov'd very Successful. Having learnt for a\ncertainty that their Haunts was about _Finchly Common_, and being very\nwell assur'd of the very House where they lay; on _Thursday_ the 10th of\n_September_, a posse of Men, both of Spirit and Conduct, furnish'd with\nArms proper for their Design, went for _Finchley_, some in a Coach and\nFour, and others on Horseback. They dispers'd themselves upon the\n_Common_ aforesaid, in order to make their View, where they had not been\nlong e're they came in Sight of _SHEPPARD_ in Company of _WILLIAM PAGE_,\nhabited like two _Butchers_ in new blue Frocks, with white Aprons tuck'd\nround their Wastes.\nUpon _Sheppard's_ seeing _Langley_ a Turnkey at _Newgate_, he says to\nhis Companion _Page_, _I see a Stag_; upon which their Courage dropt;\nknowing that now their dealing way of Business was almost at an End;\nhowever to make their Flight as secure as they could, they thought it\nadviseable to take to a Foot-path, to cut off the pursuit of the\n_Newgate Cavalry_; but this did not prove most successful, _Langley_\ncame up with _Page_ (who was hindermost) and Dismounting with Pistol in\nHand, commands _Page_ to throw up his Hands, which he trembling did,\nbegging for Life, desiring him to _Fisk_ him, _viz._ (search him,) which\nhe accordingly did, and found a broad Knife and File; having thus\ndisarm'd him, he takes the _Chubb_ along with him in quest of the\nslippery _Ele_, _Sheppard_; who had taken Shelter in an old Stable,\nbelonging to a Farm-House; the pursuit was close, the House invested,\nand a Girl seeing his Feet as he stood up hid, discover'd him. _Austin_\na Turnkey first attach'd his Person. _Langley_ seconded him, _Ireton_ an\nOfficer help'd to Enclose, and happy was the hindermost who aided in\nthis great Enterprise. He being shock'd with the utmost Fear, told them\nhe submitted, and desir'd they would let him live as long as he could,\nwhich they did, and us'd him mildly; upon searching him they found a\nbroad Knife with two of the Watches as he had taken out of Mr.\n_Martin's_ Shop, one under each Armpit; and now having gain'd their\nPoint, and made themselves Masters of what they had often endeavoured\nfor, they came with their _Lost Sheep_ to a little House on the _Common_\nthat sold Liquors, with this Inscription on the Sign, _I have brought\nmy_ Hogs _to a fair Market_; which our two unfortunate _Butchers_ under\ntheir then unhappy Circumstances, had too sad Reason to apply to\nthemselves. _Sheppard_ had by this time recover'd his Surprize, grew\ncalm and easy, and desir'd them to give him Brandy, they did, and were\nall good Friends, and Company together.\nThey adjourn'd with their Booty to another Place, where was waiting a\nCoach and Four to Convey it to Town, with more Speed and Safety; and Mr.\n_Sheppard_ arriv'd at his old Mansion, at about two in the Afternoon. At\nhis a-lighting, he made a sudden Spring; He declar'd his Intention was\nto have slipt under the Coach, and had a Race for it; he was put into\nthe Condemn'd-Hold, and Chain'd down to the Floor with double _Basils_\nabout his Feet, _&c._ _Page_ was carried before Sir _Francis Forbes_ and\ncommitted to the same Prison for Accompanying and aiding _Sheppard_ in\nhis Escape. The prudence of Mr. _Pitt_ caus'd a Separation between him\nand his Brother the first Night, as a Means to prevent any ensuing\nDanger, by having two Heads, which (according to our Proverbial Saying)\n_are better than one_.\nThe Joy the People of _Newgate_ conceiv'd on this Occasion is\ninexpressible, _Te Deum_ was Sung in the _Lodge_, and nothing but\nSmiles, and Bumpers, were seen there for many Days together. But\n_Jonathan Wild_ unfortunately happen'd to be gone upon a wrong Scent\nafter him to _Sturbridge_, and Lost a Share of the Glory.\nHis Escape and his being so suddenly Re-taken made such a Noise in the\nTown, that it was thought all the common People would have gone Mad\nabout him; there being not a _Porter_ to be had for Love nor Money, nor\ngetting into an Ale-house, for _Butchers_; _Shoemakers_ and _Barbers_,\nall engag'd in Controversies, and Wagers, about _Sheppard_. _Newgate_\nNight and Day surrounded with the Curious from St. _Giles's_ and\n_Rag-Fair_, and _Tyburn Road_ daily lin'd with Women and Children; and\nthe _Gallows_ as carefully watch'd by Night, lest he should be hang'd\n_Incog._ For a Report of that nature, obtain'd much upon the Rabble; In\nshort, it was a Week of the greatest Noise and Idleness among\nMechanicks that has been known in _London_, and _Parker_ and _Pettis_,\ntwo _Lyricks_, subsisted many Days very comfortably upon _Ballads_ and\n_Letters_ about _Sheppard_. The vulgar continu'd under great Doubts and\nDifficulties, in what would be his Case, and whether the _Old Warrant_,\nor a _New One_ must be made for his Execution, or a New Tryal, _&c._\nwere the great Questions as arose, and occasion'd various Reasonings and\nSpeculation, till a News Paper, call'd the _Daily Journal_ set them all\nto Rights by the Publication of the Account following, _viz._\n     '_J. Sheppard_ having been Convicted of Burglary, and Felony,\n     and received Sentence of Death, and afterwards 'Escap'd from\n     _Newgate_; and being since Re-taken'; we are assur'd that it\n     must be prov'd in a _Regular_, and _Judicial_ way, that he is\n     the same Person, who was so Convicted and made his Escape,\n     before a Warrant can be obtain'd for his Execution; and that\n     this Affair well be brought before the Court at the _Old\n     Baily_ the next Sessions.'\nThis was enough; People began to grow calm and easy and got _Shav'd_,\nand their Shoes _finish'd_, and Business returned into its former\nChannel, the Town resolving to wait the _Sessions_ with Patience.\nThe Reverend Mr. _Wagstaff_, who officiated in the absence of the\n_Ordinary_, renew'd his former Acquaintance with Mr. _Sheppard_, and\nexamin'd him in a particular manner concerning his Escape from the\nCondemn'd Hold: He sincerely disown'd, that all, or any, belonging to\nthe Prison were privy thereto; but related it as it has been describ'd.\nHe declar'd that _Edgworth Bess_, who had hitherto pass'd for his\n_Wife_, was not really so: This was by some thought to be in him Base,\nand Ungenerous in that, as she had Contributed towards his Escape, and\nwas in Custody on that Account, it might render her more liable to\nPunishment, than if she had been thought his Wife; but he endeavour'd to\nacquit himself, by saying, that she was the sole Author of all his\nMisfortunes; That she betray'd him to _Jonathan Wild_, at the time he\nwas taken in _Rosemary-Lane_; and that when he was contriving his\nEscape, she disobey'd his orders, as when being requir'd to attend at\nthe Door of the Condemn'd-Hold by Nine, or Ten in the Morning to\nfacilitate his Endeavours, she came not till the Evening, which he said,\nwas an ungrateful Return for the care he had taken in setting her at\nLiberty from _New-Prison_; and thus Justify'd himself in what he had\ndone, and said he car'd not what became of her.\nHe was also Examined about Mr. _Martin's_ Watches; and whether _Page_\nwas privy to that Robbery; he carefully guarded himself against uttering\nany thing that might affect him, peremptorily declar'd him Innocent of\nthat, as well as of being privy to his Escape, and said, that he only\nout of Kindness, as being an old Companion, was resolv'd to share in his\nFortunes after he had Escap'd.\nHe was again continually meditating a second Escape, as appear'd by his\nown Hardiness, and the Instruments found upon him, on _Saturday_ the\n12th, and _Wednesday_ the 16th of _September_, the first Time a small\nFile was found conceal'd in his Bible, and the second Time two Files, a\nChisel and an Hammer being hid in the Rushes of a Chair; and whenever a\nQuestion was mov'd to him, when, or by what Means those Implements came\nto his Hands; he would passionately fly out, and say, _How can you? you\nalways ask me these, and such like Questions_; and in a particular\nmanner, when he was ask'd, Whether his Companion _Page_ was an\nAccomplice with him, either in the affair of the Watches, or any other?\n(he reply'd) _That if he knew, he would give no direct Answer_, thinking\nit to be a Crime in him to detect the Guilty.\nIt was thought necessary by the Keepers to remove him from the\nCondemn'd-Hold to a Place, call'd the _Castle_, in the Body of the Goal,\nand to Chain him down to two large Iron Staples in the Floor; the\nConcourse of People of tolerable Fashion to see him was exceeding Great,\nhe was always Chearful and Pleasant to a Degree, as turning almost every\nthing as was said into a Jest and Banter.\nBeing one _Sunday_ at the Chapel, a Gentleman belonging to the _Lord\nMayor_, ask'd a Turnkey, Which was _Sheppard_, the Man pointed to him?\nSays _Sheppard, yes Sir, I am the_ Sheppard_, and all the Goalers in the\nTown are my Flock, and I cannot stir into the Country, but they are all\nat my Heels_ Baughing, _after me, &c._\nHe told Mr. _Robins_, the _City Smith_, _That he had procur'd him a_\n_small Job, and that whoever it was that put the Spikes on the\nCondemn'd-Hold was an honest Man, for a better peice of Metal,_ says he,\n_I never wrought upon in my Life._\nHe was loth to believe his frequent Robberies were an Injury to the\nPublic, for he us'd to say, That _if they were ill in one Respect, they\nwere as good in another, and that though he car'd not for Working much\nhimself, yet he was desirous that others should not stand Idle, more\nespecially those of his own Trade, who were always Repairing of his\nBreaches._\nWhen serious, and that but seldom, he would Reflect on his past wicked\nLife. He declar'd to us, that for several Years of his Apprenticeship he\nhad an utter abhorrence to Women of the Town, and us'd to pelt them with\nDirt when they have fell in his way; till a _Button-Mould-Maker_ his\nnext Neighbour left off that Business, and set up a Victualling-house in\n_Lewkenhors-Lane_, where himself and other young Apprentices resorted on\n_Sundays_, and at all other Opportunities. At this House began his\nAcquaintance with _Edgworth Bess_. His sentiments were strangely\nalter'd, and from an Aversion to those Prostitutes, he had a more\nfavourable Opinion, and even Conversation with them, till he Contracted\nan ill Distemper, which as he said, he cur'd himself of by a Medicine of\nhis own preparing.\nHe inveigh'd bitterly against his Brother _Thomas_ for putting him into\nthe Information, for Mrs. _Cook's_ Robberry, and pretended that all the\nMischiefs that attended him was owing to that Matter. He acknowledg'd\nthat he was concern'd in that Fact, and that his said Brother broke into\nhis Lodgings, and stole from him all his Share and more of the acquir'd\nBooty.\nHe often-times averr'd, that _William Field_ was no ways concern'd in\nMr. _Kneebone's_ Robbery; but that being a Brother of the Quill;\n_Blewskin_ and himself told him the particulars, and manner of the\nFacts, and that all he Swore against him at his Tryal was False, and\nthat he had other Authority for it, than what came out of their\n(_Sheppard_ and _Blewskin_) Mouths, who actually committed the Fact.\nAnd moreover, that _Field_ being acquainted with their Warehouse (a\nStable) near the _Horse-Ferry_ at _Westminster_, which _Sheppard_ had\nhir'd, and usually resposited therein the Goods he stole. He came one\nNight, and broke open the same, and carried off the best part of the\nEffects taken out of Mr. _Kneebone's_ Shop.\n_Sheppard_ said he thought this to be one of the greatest Villanies that\ncould be acted, for another to come and Plunder them of Things for which\nthey had so honourably ventur'd their Lives, and wish'd that _Field_, as\nwell as his Brother _Tom_ might meet with forgiveness for it.\nHe declar'd himself frequently against the Practice of _Whidling_, or\n_Impeaching_, which he said, had made dreadful Havock among the\n_Thieves_, and much lamented the depravity of the _Brethren_ in that\nRespect; and said that if all were but such _Tight-Cocks_ as himself,\nthe _Reputation_ of the _British Thievery_ might be carried to a far\ngreater height than it had been done for many Ages, and that there would\nthen be but little Necessity for Jaylors and Hangmen.\nThese and such like were his constant Discourses, when Company went up\nwith the Turnkeys to the _Castle_ to see him, and few or none went away\nwithout leaving him Money for his Support; in which he abounded, and did\ntherewith some small Charities to the other Prisoners; however, he was\nabstemious and sparing enough in his Diet.\nAmong the many Schemes laid by his Friends, for the preserving himself\nafter his Escape, we were told of a most Remarkable one, propos'd by an\ningenious Person, who advis'd, that he might be Expeditiously, and\nSecretly convey'd to the Palace at _Windsor_, and there to prostrate his\nPerson, and his Case at the Feet of a most Gracious Prince, and his Case\nbeing so very singular and new, it might in great probability move the\nRoyal Fountain of unbounded Clemency; but he declin'd this Advice, and\nfollow'd the Judgment and Dictates of _Butchers_, which very speedily\nbrought him very near the Door of the _Slaughterhouse_.\nOn the 4th of _September_, the Day as _Joseph Ward_, and _Anthony Upton_\nwere Executed, there was publish'd a whimsical Letter, as from\n_Sheppard_, to _Jack Ketch_, which afforded Diversion to the Town, and\nBread to the Author, which is as followeth, _viz._\n     I Thank you for the Favour you intended me this day: I am a\n     Gentleman, and allow you to be the same, and I hope can\n     forgive Injuries; fond Nature prompted, I obey'd, Oh,\n     propitious Minute! and to show that I am in Charity, I am now\n     drinking your Health, and a _Bon Repo_ to poor _Joseph_ and\n     _Anthony_. I am gone a few Days for the Air, but design\n     speedily to embark; and this Night I am going upon a Mansion\n     for a Supply; it's a stout Fortification, but what\n     Difficulties can't I encounter, when, dear _Jack_, you find\n     that Bars and Chains are but trifling Obstacles in the way of\n     your Friend and Servant.\n     JOHN SHEPPARD.\n     _From my Residence in Terra Australi incognito_.\n     _P.S._ Pray my Service to Mr. _Or---- di---- y_ and to Mr.\nOn _Saturday_ the 10th of _October_, _Anthony Lamb_, and _Thomas\nSheppard_, with 95 other Felons were carried from _Newgate_ on\nShipboard, for Transportation to the Plantations; the last begg'd to\nhave an opportunity given him of taking his final Leave of his Brother\n_John_; but this was not to be Granted, and the greatest Favour that\ncould be obtain'd, was that on the _Sunday_ before they had an Interview\nat the _Chapel_, but at such a distance, that they neither saluted, or\nshook Hands, and the Reason given for it, was that no Implements might\nbe convey'd to _Sheppard_ to assist him in making an Escape.\nThis, Caution seem'd to be absolutely necessary, for it appear'd soon\nafter that _Sheppard_ found Means to release himself from the Staples to\nwhich he was Chain'd in the Castle, by unlocking a great Padlock with a\nNail, which he had pickt up on the Floor, and endeavour'd to pass up the\nChimney, but was prevented by the stout Iron Bars fix'd in his way, and\nwanted nothing but the smallest File to have perfected his Liberty. When\nthe Assistants of the Prison, came as usual with his Victuals, they\nbegan to examine his Irons; to their great Surprize they found them\nloose, and ready to be taken off at Pleasure. Mr. _Pitt_ the Head\nKeeper, and his Deputies were sent for, and _Sheppard_ finding this\nAttempt entirely frustrated, discover'd to them by what means he had got\nthem off; and after they had search'd him, found nothing, and Lock'd\nand Chain'd him down again; He took up the Nail and unlocked the Padlock\nbefore their Faces; they were struck with the greatest Amazement as\nhaving never heard, or beheld the like before. He was then Handcuff'd,\nand more effectually Chain'd.\nThe next Day, the Reverend Mr. _Purney Ordinary_ of the Place came from\nthe Country to visit him, and complain'd of the sad Disposition he found\nhim in, as Meditateing on nothing, but Means to Escape, and declining\nthe great Duty incumbent upon him to prepare for his approaching Change.\nHe began to Relent, and said, that since his last Effort had prov'd not\nSuccessful, he would entertain no more Thoughts of that Nature, but\nentirely Dispose, and Resign himself to the Mercy of Almighty God, of\nwhom he hop'd to find forgiveness of his manifold Offences.\nHe said, that _Edgworth Bess_ and himself kept a little Brandy-shop\ntogether in _Lewkenhors-Lane_, and once sav'd about Thirty Pounds; but\nhaving such an universal Acquaintance amongst Theives, he had frequent\ncalls to go _Abroad_, and soon quitted that Business, and his Shop.\nOn _Friday_ the 2d, of _October_ his old Confederate _Joseph Blake_\nalias _Blewskin_, was apprehended and taken at a House in St. _Giles's_\nParish by _Jonathan Wild_, and by Justice _Blackerby_ committed to\n_Newgate_. _William Field_ who was at his liberty, appearing and making\nOath, that _Blewskin_ together with _John Sheppard_ and himself,\ncommitted the Burglary and Felony in Mr. _Kneebone's_ House, for which\n_Sheppard_ was Condemn'd.\nThe Sessions commencing at the _Old-Bailey_ on _Wednesday_ the 14th of\n_October_ following, an Indictment was found against _Blewskin_ for the\nsame, and he was brought down from _Newgate_ to the _Old-Bailey_ to be\nArraign'd in order to his Tryal; and being in the Yard within the Gate\nbefore the Court: Mr. _Wild_ being there Drinking a glass of Wine with\nhim, he said to Mr. _Wild_, _You may put in a word for me, as well as\nfor another Person?_ To which Mr. _Wild_ reply'd, I cannot do it. _You\nare certainly a dead Man, and will be tuck'd up very speedily,_ or words\nto that effect: Whereupon _Blewskin_ on a sudden seiz'd Mr. _Wild_ by\nthe Neck, and with a little Clasp Knife he was provided with he cut his\nThroat in a very dangerous Manner; and had it not been for a _Muslin_\nStock twisted in several Plaits round his Neck, he had in all likelyhood\nsucceeded in his barbarous Design before _Ballard_ the Turnkey, who was\nat Hand, could have time to lay hold of him; the Villain trumph'd\nafterwards in what he had done, Swearing many bloody Oaths, that if he\nhad murder'd him, he should have died with Satisfaction, and that his\nIntention was to have cut off his Head, and thrown it into the Sessions\nHouse-Yard among the Rabble, and Curs'd both his Hand and the Knife for\nnot Executing it Effectually.\nMr. _Wild_ instantly had the Assistance of three able Surgeons, _viz._\nMr. _Dobbins_, Mr. _Marten_ and Mr. _Coletheart_, who sew'd up the\nWound, and order'd him to his Bed, and he has continu'd ever since, but\nin a doubtful State of Recovery.\nThe Felons on the Common Side of _Newgate_, also animated by\n_Sheppard's_ Example, the Night before they were to be Shipt for\nTransporation, had cut several Iron Bars assunder, and some of them had\nsaw'd off their Fetters, the rest Huzzaing, and making Noises, under\npretence of being Joyful that they were to be remov'd on the Morrow, to\nprevent the Workmen being heard; and in two Hours time more, if their\nDesign had not been discover'd, near One Hundred Villians had been let\nloose into the World, to have committed new Depredations; nothing was\nwanted here but _Sheppard's_ great Judgment, who was by himself in the\nstrong Room, call'd the _Castle_, meditating his own Deliverance, which\nhe perfected in the manner following.\nOn _Thursday_ the 15th of this Instant _October_, at between One and Two\nin the Afternoon, _William Austin_, an Assistant to the Keepers, a Man\nreputed to be a very diligent, and faithful Servant, went to _Sheppard_\nin the strong Room, call'd the _Castle_, with his Necessaries, as was\nhis Custom every Day. There went along with him Captain _Geary_, the\nKeeper of _New Prison_, Mr. _Gough_, belonging to the _Gate-house_ in\n_Westminster_, and two other Gentlemen, who had the Curiosity to see the\nPrisoner, _Austin_ very strictly examined his Fetters, and his\nHand-Cuffs, and found them very Safe; he eat his Dinner and talk'd with\nhis usual Gayety to the Company: They took leave of him and wish'd him a\ngood Evening. The Court being sitting at the _Old-Bailey_, the Keepers\nand most of their Servants were attending there with their Prisoners:\nAnd _Sheppard_ was told that if he wanted any thing more, then was his\nTime, because they could not come to him till the next Morning: He\nthank'd them for their Kindness, and desir'd them to be as _early as\npossible_.\nThe same Night, soon after 12 of the Clock Mr. _Bird_, who keeps a\nTurners-shop adjoyning to _Newgate_, was disturb'd by the Watchman, who\nfound his Street Door open, and call'd up the Family, and they\nconcluding the Accident was owing to the Carelessness of some in the\nHouse, shut their Doors, and went to Bed again.\nThe next Morning _Friday_, at about eight Mr. _Austin_ went up as usual\nto wait on _Sheppard_, and having unlock'd and unbolted the double Doors\nof the Castle, he beheld almost a Cart-load of Bricks and Rubbish about\nthe Room, and his Prisoner gone: The Man ready to sink, came trembling\ndown again, and was scarce able to Acquaint the People in the _Lodge_\nwith what had happen'd.\nThe whole Posse of the Prison ran up, and stood like Men depriv'd of\ntheir Senses: Their surprize being over, they were in hopes that he\nmight not have yet entirely made his Escape, and got their Keys to open\nall the strong Rooms adjacent to the _Castle_, in order to Trace him,\nwhen to their farther Amazement, they found the Door ready open'd to\ntheir Hands; and the strong Locks, Screws and Bolts broken in pieces,\nand scatter'd about the Jayl. Six great Doors (one whereof having not\nbeen open'd for seven Years past) were forc'd, and it appear'd that he\nhad Descended from the Leads of _Newgate_ by a Blanket (which he\nfasten'd to the Wall by an Iron Spike he had taken from the Hatch of the\n_Chapel_) on the House of Mr. _Bird_, and the Door on the Leads having\nbeen left open, it is very reasonable to conclude he past directly to\nthe Street Door down the Stairs; Mr _Bird_ and his Wife hearing an odd\nsort of a Noise on the Stairs as they lay in their Bed, a short time\nbefore the Watchman alarm'd the Family.\nInfinite Numbers of Citizens came to _Newgate_ to behold _Sheppard's_\nWorkmanship, and Mr. _Pitt_ and his Officers very readily Conducted them\nup Stairs, that the World might be convinc'd there was not the least\nroom to suspect, either a Negligence, or Connivance in the Servants.\nEvery one express'd the greatest Surprize that has been known, and\ndeclar'd themselves satisfy'd with the Measures they had taken for the\nSecurity of their Prisoner.\nOne of the Sheriffs came in Person, and went up to the _Castle_ to be\nsatisfy'd of the Situation of the Place, _&c._ Attended by several of\nthe City Officers.\nThe Court being sat at the _Sessions-House_, the Keepers were sent for\nand Examin'd, and the Magistrates were in great Consternation, that so\nhorrid a Wretch had escap'd their Justice. It being intended that he\nshould have been brought down to the Court the last Day of the\n_Sessions_, and order'd for Execution in two or three Days after; if it\nappear'd that he was the Person Condemn'd for the breaking Mr.\n_Kneebone's_ House, and included in the Warrant for Execution, _&c._\nMany of the Methods by which this miraculous Escape was effected, remain\nas yet a Secret, there are some indeed too Evident, the most reasonable\nConjecture that has hierto been made, is, that the first Act was his\ntwisting and breaking assunder by the strength of his Hands a small Iron\nChain, which together with a great Horse Padlock, (as went from the\nheavy Fetters about his Legs to the staples) confin'd him to the Floor,\nand with a Nail open'd the Padlock and set himself at Liberty about the\nRoom: A large flat Iron Bar appears to have been taken out of the\nChimney, with the Assistance thereof 'tis plain he broke thro' a Wall of\nmany Foot in Thickness, and made his way from the _Castle_ into another\nstrong Room Contiguous, the Door of it not having been open'd since\nseveral of the _Preston_ Prisoners were Confin'd there about seven Years\nago: Three Screws are visibly taken off of the Lock, and the Doors as\nstrong as Art could make them, forc'd open. The Locks and Bolts, either\nwrench'd or Broke, and the Cases and other Irons made for their Security\ncut assunder: An Iron Spike broke off from the Hatch in the _Chapel_,\nwhich he fix'd in the Wall and fasten'd his Blanket to it, to drop on\nthe Leads of Mr. _Bird_'s House, his Stockings were found on the Leads\nof _Newgate_; 'tis question'd whether sixty Pounds will repair the\nDamage done to the Jayl.\nIt will perhaps be inquir'd how all this could be perform'd without his\nbeing heard by the Prisoners or the Keepers; 'tis well known that the\nPlace of his Confinement is in the upper part of the Prison, none of the\nother Felons being Kept any where near him; and 'tis suppos'd that if\nany had heard him at Work, they would rather have facilitated, than\nfrustrated his Endeavours. In the Course of his Breaches he pass'd by a\nDoor on his Left belonging to the _Common-Side_ Felons, who have since\nCurs'd him heartily for his not giving them an opportunity to kiss his\nHand, and lending them a favourable lift when his Hand was in; but that\nwas not a Work proper for Mr. _Sheppard_ to do in his then\nCircumstances.\nHis Fetters are not to be found any where about the Jayl, from whence\n'tis concluded he has either thrown them down some Chimney, or carried\nthem off on his Legs, the latter seems to be Impracticable, and would\nstill render his Escaping in such Manner the more astonishing; and the\nonly Answer that is given to the whole, at _Newgate_ is, _That the_\nDevil _came in Person and assisted him_.\nHe undoubtedly perform'd most of these Wonders in the darkest part of\nthe Night, and without the least Glimpse of a Candle; a word, he has\nactually done with his own Hands in a few Hours, what several of the\nmost skilful Artists allow, could not have been acted by a number of\nPersons furnish'd with proper Implements, and all other Advantages in a\nfull Day.\nNever was there anything better Tim'd, the Keepers and all their\nAssistants being obliged to a strict Attendance on the Sessions at the\n_Old Bailey_, which held for about a Week; and _Blewskin_ having\nconfin'd _Jonathan Wild_ to his Chamber, a more favourable opportunity\ncould not have presented for Mr. _Sheppard's_ Purposes.\nThe Jaylors suffer'd much by the Opinion the ignorant Part of the People\nentertain'd of the Matter, and nothing would satisfie some, but that\nthey not only Conniv'd at, but even assisted him in breaking their own\nWalls and Fences, and that for this Reason too, _viz._ That he should be\nat Liberty to instruct and train up others in his Method of\nHouse-Breaking; and replenish the Town with a new set of Rogues, to\nsupply the Places of those Transported beyond Sea.\nThis is indeed a fine way of Judging, the well-known Characters of Mr.\n_Pitt_, and his Deputies, are sufficient to wipe of such ridiculous\nImputations; and 'tis a most lamentable Truth, that they have\noften-times had in their Charge Villains of the deepest Die; Persons of\nQuality and great Worth, for whom no Entreaties, no Sums how large\nsoever have been able to interfere between the doleful Prison, and the\nfatal Tree.\nThe Officers have done their Duty, they are but Men, and have had to\ndeal with a Creature something more than Man, a _Protoeus_,\nSupernatural, Words cannot describe him, his Actions and Workmanship\nwhich are too visible, best testifie him.\nOn _Saturday_ the 17th, _Joseph Blake_, alias _Blewskin_, came upon his\nTryal at the _Old Bailey_: _Field_ gave the same Evidence against him,\nas he had formerly done against _Sheppard_; and the Prisoner making but\na triffling Defence, the Jury found him Guilty of Buglary and Felony.\nThe Criminal when the Verdict was brought in, made his Obeysances to the\nCourt, _and thank'd them for their Kindness_.\nIt will be necessary that we now return to the Behaviour of Mr.\n_Sheppard_, some few Days before his last Flight.\nMr. _Figg_ the famous Prize Fighter comeing to see him, in _NEWGATE_,\nthere past some pleasant Raillery between them; and after Mr. _Figg_ was\ngone, _Sheppard_ declared he had a Mind to send him a formal Challenge\nto Fight him at all the Weapons in the strong Room; and that let the\nConsequence be what it would, he should call at Mr. _Figg's_ House in\nhis way to Execution, and drink a merry Glass with him by way of\nReconciliation.\nA young Woman an Acquaintance of his Mother, who wash'd his Linnen and\nbrought him Necessaries, having in an Affray, got her Eyes beaten Black\nand Blue; says _Sheppard_ to her, _How long hast thou been Married_?\nReplyes the Wench. _I wonder you can ask me such a Question, when you so\nwell know the Contrary_: Nay, says _Sheppard_ again, Sarah _don't deny\nit, for you have gotten your Certificate in your Face_.\nMr. _Ireton_ a Bailiff in _Drury-Lane_ having pursued _Sheppard_ after\nhis Escape from the Condemn'd-Hold with uncommon Diligence; (for the\nsafety of that Neighbourhood which was the chief Scene of his\nVillainies) _Sheppard_ when Re-taken, declared, he would be even with\nhim for it, and if ever he procur'd his Liberty again, _he would give\nall his Prisoners an_ ACT OF GRACE. A Gentleman in a jocose way ask'd\nhim to come and take a Dinner with him, _Sheppard_ reply'd, _he accepted\nof the Invitation, and perhaps might take an opportunity to wait on\nhim_; and there is great Reason to believe he has been as good as his\nWord.\nHe would complain of his Nights, as saying, _It was dark with him from\nFive in the Evening, till Seven in the Morning_; and being not permitted\nto have either a Bed or Candle, his Circumstances were dismal; and that\nhe never slept but had some confus'd Doses, he said he consider'd all\nthis with the Temper of a Philosopher.\nNeither his sad Circumstances, nor the solemn Exhortations of the\nseveral Divines who visited him, were able to divert him from this\nludicrous way of Expression; he said, _They were all Ginger-bread\nFellows_, and came rather out of Curiosity, than Charity; and to form\n_Papers_ and _Ballads_ out of his Behaviour.\nA _Welch_ Clergyman who came pretty often, requested him in a\nparticularly Manner to refrain Drinking; (tho' indeed there was no\nnecessity for that Caution) _Sheppard_ says, Doctor, _You set an Example\nand I'll follow_; this was a smart Satyr and Repartee upon the _Parson_,\nsome Circumstances consider'd.\nWhen he was visited in the _Castle_ by the Reverend Mr. _Wagstaff_, he\nput on the Face only of a Preparation for his End, as appear'd by his\nfrequent Attempts made upon his Escape, and when he has been press'd to\nDiscover those who put him upon Means of Escaping, and furnish'd him\nwith Implements, he would passionately, and with a Motion of striking,\nsay, _ask me no such Questions, one File's worth all the Bibles in the\nWorld_.\nWhen ask'd if he had not put off all Thoughts of an Escape and\nEntertain'd none but those of Death, would Answer by way of Question,\nnot directly, whether they thought it possible, or probable for him to\nEffect his Release, when Manackled in the manner he was. When mov'd to\nimprove the few Minutes that seem'd to remain of his Life; he did indeed\nlisten to, but not regard the Design and Purport of his Admonition,\nbreaking in with something New of his own, either with respect to his\nformer Accomplices, or Actions, and all too with Pleasure and Gayety of\nExpression.\nWhen in _Chapel_, he would seemingly make his Responses with Devotion;\nbut would either Laugh, or force Expressions (when as an Auditor of the\nSermon) be of Contempt, either of the Preacher, or of his Discourse.\nIn fine, he behav'd so, in Word, and Action, (since retaken) that\ndemonstrated to the World, that his Escape was the utmost Employ of his\nThoughts, whatever Face of Penitence he put on when visited by the\nCurious.\n     An Account of SHEPPARD'S Adventures of five Hours immediately\n     after his Escape from _Newgate_, in a Letter to his Friend.\n     DEAR FRIEND!\n     Over a Bottle of _Claret_ you'll give me leave to _declare\n     it_, that I've fairly put the _Vowels_ upon the good Folks at\n     _Newgate, i.o.u._ When I'm able, I may, or may not discharge\n     my _Fees_, 'tis a _Fee-simple_, for a Man in my Condition to\n     acknowledge; and tho' I'm safe out of _Newgate_, I must yet\n     have, or at least, affect, a _New Gate_ by Limping, or Turning\n     my Toes in by making a right _Hand_ of my _Feet_. Not _to be\n     long_, for I hate _Prolixity_ in all Business: _In short_,\n     after _Filing, Defileing, Sawing_, when no Body _Saw_.\n     _Climbing_ (this _Clime in_) it prov'd a good _Turner_ of my\n     Affairs, thro' the House of a _Turner_. Being quite past, and\n     safe from _Estreat_ on Person or Chattels, and safe in the\n     _Street_, I thought Thanks due to him who cou'd _Deliver\n     hence_; and immediately (for you must know I'm a _Catholick_)\n     to give Thanks for my Deliverance, I stept amongst the\n     _Grey-Fryers_ to come an joyn with me, in saying a\n     _Pater-Noster_, or so, at _Amen-Corner_. The _Fryers_ being\n     _Fat_ began to _Broil_, and soon after _Boild up_ into a\n     Passion to be disturb'd at that time of Night. But being got\n     _Loose_ and having no Time to _Lose_, I gave them good Words,\n     and so the Business was done. From thence I soon slip'd\n     through _Ludgate_, but was damnably fearful of an _Old Bailey_\n     always lurking thereabout, who might have brought me to the\n     _Fleet_ for being too _Nimble_, besides, I was wonderfully\n     apprehensive of receiving some unwelcome _Huggings_ from the\n     _W....n_ there; therefore with a step and a stride I soon got\n     over _Fleet-ditch_, and (as in Justice I ought) I prais'd the\n     _Bridge_ I got over. Being a _Batchelor_, and not being\n     capable to to manage a Bridewell you know. I had no Business\n     near _St. Brides_, so kept the right handside, designing to\n     _Pop_ into the _Alley_ as usual; but fearing to go thro'\n     there, and _harp_ too much on the same _String_, it gave an\n     _Allay_ to my Intention, and on I went to _Shoe-lane_ end but\n     there meeting with a _Bully Hack_ of the Town, he wou'd have\n     shov'd me down, which my Spirit resenting, tho' a _brawny\n     Dog_, I soon _Coller'd_ him, fell Souse at him, then with his\n     own Cane I _strapped_ till he was force to _Buckle_ too, and\n     hold his _Tongue_, in so much he durst not say his _Soul_ was\n     his own, and was glad to pack of at _Last_, and turn his\n     _Heels_ upon me: I was glad he was gone you may be sure, and\n     _dextrously_ made a _Hand_ of my _Feet_ under the\n     _Leg-Tavern_; but the very Thoughts of _Fetter-Lane_ call'd to\n     mind some Passages, which made me avoid the _Passage_ at the\n     end of it, (next to the Coffee House you know) so I soon\n     whip'd over the way, yet going along two wooden _Logger-heads_\n     at _St. Dunstan's_ made just them a damn'd Noise about their\n     _Quarters_, but the sight of me made perfectly _Hush_ in a\n     _Minute_; now fearing to goe by _Chance-a wry-Lane_, as being\n     upon the _Watch_ my self and not to be _debarr'd_ at\n     _Temple-Bar_; I stole up _Bell-Yard_, but narrowly escap'd\n     being _Clapper-claw'd_ by two Fellows I did not like in the\n     Alley, so was forc'd to goe round with a design to _Sheer-off_\n     into _Sheer-Lane_, but the _Trumpet_ sounding at that very\n     time, alarm'd me so, I was forc'd to Grope my way back through\n     _Hemlock-Court_, and take my _Passage_ by _Ship-Yard_ without\n     the Bar again; but there meeting with one of our trusty\n     Friends, (all Ceremonies a-part) he told me under the _Rose_ I\n     must expect no _Mercy_ in _St. Clement's_ Parish, for the\n     _Butchers_ there on the _Back_ on't would _Face_ me, and with\n     their _Cleavers_ soon bring me down on my _marrow_ Bones; you\n     may believe I soon hastened thence, but by this time being\n     Fainty and night Spent, I put forward, and seeing a _Light_\n     near the _Savoy-Gate_, I was resolv'd not to make _Light_ of\n     the Opportunity, but call'd for an hearty Dram of _Luther_ and\n     _Calvin_, that is, _Mum_ and _Geneva_ mix'd; but having Fasted\n     so long before, it soon got into my Noddle, and e'er I had\n     gone twenty steps, it had so intirely _Stranded_ my Reason,\n     that by the time I came to _Half-Moon-Street_ end, it gave a\n     _New-Exchange_ to my Senses, and made me quite _Lunatick_.\n     However, after a little Rest, I stole down _George-Passage_\n     into _Oaf-Alley_ in _York-Buildings_, and thence (tho' a vile\n     Man) into _Villiers-Street_, and so into the _Strand_ again,\n     where having gone a little way, _Hefford's-Harp_ at the Sign\n     of the _Irish-Harp_, put me a _Jumping and Dancing_ to that\n     degree that I could not forbear making a _Somerset_ or two\n     before _Northumberland-House_. I thought once of taking the\n     _Windsor_ Coach for my self _John Sheppard_, by the Name of\n     _Crook_---- but fearing to be _Hook'd_ in before my Journey's\n     End, I stept into _Hedge-Lane_, where two Harlots were up in\n     the _Boughs_ (it seems) _Branching_ out their Respects to one\n     another, through their Windows, and People beginning to gather\n     thereabout, I ran _Pelmel_ to _Piccadilly_, where meeting by\n     meer chance a _Bakers_ Cart going to _Turnham-Green_, I being\n     not _Mealy Mouth'd_, nor the Man being _Crusty_ I _wheel'd_\n     out of Town.\n     I did call at _Hammersmith_, having no occasion directly. I\n     shall stay two or three Days in that Neighbourhood, so, if you\n     Direct a letter for Mr. Sligh Bolt, to be left with Mrs.\n     _Tabitha Skymmington_ at _Cheesewick_, it's Safety will _Bear\n     Water_ by any _Boat_, and come _Current_ with the Tyde to\n     Dear BOB\n     Yours from the Top\n     of _Newgate_ to the Bottom\n     _P.S._ If you see _Blewskin_, tell him I am well, and hope he\n     receiv'd my last--I wou'd write by the _Post_ if I durst, but\n     it wou'd be, certainly _Post-pon'd_ if I did, and it would be\n     _stranger_ too, to trust a Line by a _Stranger_, who might\n     _Palm_ upon us both and never Deliver it to _Hand_.\n     I send this by a _Waterman_, (I dare trust) who is very Merry\n     upon me, and says he wou'd not be in my _Jacket_. _Saturday\nWe shall conclude with what had been often observ'd by many Persons to\n_Sheppard_; _viz._ That it was very Imprudent in him to take Shelter in\nthe City, or the adjacent Parts of it, after his Escape from the\nCondemn'd Hold; and withal to commit a _Capital Offence_, almost within\nSight of _Newgate_, when his Life and all was in such Danger. His Reply\nwas general, _viz._ That it was his Fate: But being ask'd a particular\nReason for his not taking a longer Rout than the City, and the\nNeighbouring parts: pleaded Poverty as his Excuse for Confinement within\nthose Limits; at the same time urging, that had he been Master at that\ntime of five Pounds, _England_ should not have been the Place of his\nResidence, having a good Trade in his Hands to live in any populated\nPart of the World.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The History of the Remarkable Life of John Sheppard\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Transcribed from the 1919 Seeley, Sevice & Co edition by David Price,\nemail ccx074@pglaf.org\nTHE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE\nCHAPTER I--REVISITS ISLAND\nThat homely proverb, used on so many occasions in England, viz. \"That\nwhat is bred in the bone will not go out of the flesh,\" was never more\nverified than in the story of my Life.  Any one would think that after\nthirty-five years' affliction, and a variety of unhappy circumstances,\nwhich few men, if any, ever went through before, and after near seven\nyears of peace and enjoyment in the fulness of all things; grown old, and\nwhen, if ever, it might be allowed me to have had experience of every\nstate of middle life, and to know which was most adapted to make a man\ncompletely happy; I say, after all this, any one would have thought that\nthe native propensity to rambling which I gave an account of in my first\nsetting out in the world to have been so predominant in my thoughts,\nshould be worn out, and I might, at sixty one years of age, have been a\nlittle inclined to stay at home, and have done venturing life and fortune\nany more.\nNay, farther, the common motive of foreign adventures was taken away in\nme, for I had no fortune to make; I had nothing to seek: if I had gained\nten thousand pounds I had been no richer; for I had already sufficient\nfor me, and for those I had to leave it to; and what I had was visibly\nincreasing; for, having no great family, I could not spend the income of\nwhat I had unless I would set up for an expensive way of living, such as\na great family, servants, equipage, gaiety, and the like, which were\nthings I had no notion of, or inclination to; so that I had nothing,\nindeed, to do but to sit still, and fully enjoy what I had got, and see\nit increase daily upon my hands.  Yet all these things had no effect upon\nme, or at least not enough to resist the strong inclination I had to go\nabroad again, which hung about me like a chronic distemper.  In\nparticular, the desire of seeing my new plantation in the island, and the\ncolony I left there, ran in my head continually.  I dreamed of it all\nnight, and my imagination ran upon it all day: it was uppermost in all my\nthoughts, and my fancy worked so steadily and strongly upon it that I\ntalked of it in my sleep; in short, nothing could remove it out of my\nmind: it even broke so violently into all my discourses that it made my\nconversation tiresome, for I could talk of nothing else; all my discourse\nran into it, even to impertinence; and I saw it myself.\nI have often heard persons of good judgment say that all the stir that\npeople make in the world about ghosts and apparitions is owing to the\nstrength of imagination, and the powerful operation of fancy in their\nminds; that there is no such thing as a spirit appearing, or a ghost\nwalking; that people's poring affectionately upon the past conversation\nof their deceased friends so realises it to them that they are capable of\nfancying, upon some extraordinary circumstances, that they see them, talk\nto them, and are answered by them, when, in truth, there is nothing but\nshadow and vapour in the thing, and they really know nothing of the\nmatter.\nFor my part, I know not to this hour whether there are any such things as\nreal apparitions, spectres, or walking of people after they are dead; or\nwhether there is anything in the stories they tell us of that kind more\nthan the product of vapours, sick minds, and wandering fancies: but this\nI know, that my imagination worked up to such a height, and brought me\ninto such excess of vapours, or what else I may call it, that I actually\nsupposed myself often upon the spot, at my old castle, behind the trees;\nsaw my old Spaniard, Friday's father, and the reprobate sailors I left\nupon the island; nay, I fancied I talked with them, and looked at them\nsteadily, though I was broad awake, as at persons just before me; and\nthis I did till I often frightened myself with the images my fancy\nrepresented to me.  One time, in my sleep, I had the villainy of the\nthree pirate sailors so lively related to me by the first Spaniard, and\nFriday's father, that it was surprising: they told me how they\nbarbarously attempted to murder all the Spaniards, and that they set fire\nto the provisions they had laid up, on purpose to distress and starve\nthem; things that I had never heard of, and that, indeed, were never all\nof them true in fact: but it was so warm in my imagination, and so\nrealised to me, that, to the hour I saw them, I could not be persuaded\nbut that it was or would be true; also how I resented it, when the\nSpaniard complained to me; and how I brought them to justice, tried them,\nand ordered them all three to be hanged.  What there was really in this\nshall be seen in its place; for however I came to form such things in my\ndream, and what secret converse of spirits injected it, yet there was, I\nsay, much of it true.  I own that this dream had nothing in it literally\nand specifically true; but the general part was so true--the base;\nvillainous behaviour of these three hardened rogues was such, and had\nbeen so much worse than all I can describe, that the dream had too much\nsimilitude of the fact; and as I would afterwards have punished them\nseverely, so, if I had hanged them all, I had been much in the right, and\neven should have been justified both by the laws of God and man.\nBut to return to my story.  In this kind of temper I lived some years; I\nhad no enjoyment of my life, no pleasant hours, no agreeable diversion\nbut what had something or other of this in it; so that my wife, who saw\nmy mind wholly bent upon it, told me very seriously one night that she\nbelieved there was some secret, powerful impulse of Providence upon me,\nwhich had determined me to go thither again; and that she found nothing\nhindered me going but my being engaged to a wife and children.  She told\nme that it was true she could not think of parting with me: but as she\nwas assured that if she was dead it would be the first thing I would do,\nso, as it seemed to her that the thing was determined above, she would\nnot be the only obstruction; for, if I thought fit and resolved to\ngo--[Here she found me very intent upon her words, and that I looked very\nearnestly at her, so that it a little disordered her, and she stopped.  I\nasked her why she did not go on, and say out what she was going to say?\nBut I perceived that her heart was too full, and some tears stood in her\neyes.]  \"Speak out, my dear,\" said I; \"are you willing I should\ngo?\"--\"No,\" says she, very affectionately, \"I am far from willing; but if\nyou are resolved to go,\" says she, \"rather than I would be the only\nhindrance, I will go with you: for though I think it a most preposterous\nthing for one of your years, and in your condition, yet, if it must be,\"\nsaid she, again weeping, \"I would not leave you; for if it be of Heaven\nyou must do it, there is no resisting it; and if Heaven make it your duty\nto go, He will also make it mine to go with you, or otherwise dispose of\nme, that I may not obstruct it.\"\nThis affectionate behaviour of my wife's brought me a little out of the\nvapours, and I began to consider what I was doing; I corrected my\nwandering fancy, and began to argue with myself sedately what business I\nhad after threescore years, and after such a life of tedious sufferings\nand disasters, and closed in so happy and easy a manner; I, say, what\nbusiness had I to rush into new hazards, and put myself upon adventures\nfit only for youth and poverty to run into?\nWith those thoughts I considered my new engagement; that I had a wife,\none child born, and my wife then great with child of another; that I had\nall the world could give me, and had no need to seek hazard for gain;\nthat I was declining in years, and ought to think rather of leaving what\nI had gained than of seeking to increase it; that as to what my wife had\nsaid of its being an impulse from Heaven, and that it should be my duty\nto go, I had no notion of that; so, after many of these cogitations, I\nstruggled with the power of my imagination, reasoned myself out of it, as\nI believe people may always do in like cases if they will: in a word, I\nconquered it, composed myself with such arguments as occurred to my\nthoughts, and which my present condition furnished me plentifully with;\nand particularly, as the most effectual method, I resolved to divert\nmyself with other things, and to engage in some business that might\neffectually tie me up from any more excursions of this kind; for I found\nthat thing return upon me chiefly when I was idle, and had nothing to do,\nnor anything of moment immediately before me.  To this purpose, I bought\na little farm in the county of Bedford, and resolved to remove myself\nthither.  I had a little convenient house upon it, and the land about it,\nI found, was capable of great improvement; and it was many ways suited to\nmy inclination, which delighted in cultivating, managing, planting, and\nimproving of land; and particularly, being an inland country, I was\nremoved from conversing among sailors and things relating to the remote\nparts of the world.  I went down to my farm, settled my family, bought\nploughs, harrows, a cart, waggon-horses, cows, and sheep, and, setting\nseriously to work, became in one half-year a mere country gentleman.  My\nthoughts were entirely taken up in managing my servants, cultivating the\nground, enclosing, planting, &c.; and I lived, as I thought, the most\nagreeable life that nature was capable of directing, or that a man always\nbred to misfortunes was capable of retreating to.\nI farmed upon my own land; I had no rent to pay, was limited by no\narticles; I could pull up or cut down as I pleased; what I planted was\nfor myself, and what I improved was for my family; and having thus left\noff the thoughts of wandering, I had not the least discomfort in any part\nof life as to this world.  Now I thought, indeed, that I enjoyed the\nmiddle state of life which my father so earnestly recommended to me, and\nlived a kind of heavenly life, something like what is described by the\npoet, upon the subject of a country life:--\n   \"Free from vices, free from care,\n   Age has no pain, and youth no snare.\"\nBut in the middle of all this felicity, one blow from unseen Providence\nunhinged me at once; and not only made a breach upon me inevitable and\nincurable, but drove me, by its consequences, into a deep relapse of the\nwandering disposition, which, as I may say, being born in my very blood,\nsoon recovered its hold of me; and, like the returns of a violent\ndistemper, came on with an irresistible force upon me.  This blow was the\nloss of my wife.  It is not my business here to write an elegy upon my\nwife, give a character of her particular virtues, and make my court to\nthe sex by the flattery of a funeral sermon.  She was, in a few words,\nthe stay of all my affairs; the centre of all my enterprises; the engine\nthat, by her prudence, reduced me to that happy compass I was in, from\nthe most extravagant and ruinous project that filled my head, and did\nmore to guide my rambling genius than a mother's tears, a father's\ninstructions, a friend's counsel, or all my own reasoning powers could\ndo.  I was happy in listening to her, and in being moved by her\nentreaties; and to the last degree desolate and dislocated in the world\nby the loss of her.\nWhen she was gone, the world looked awkwardly round me.  I was as much a\nstranger in it, in my thoughts, as I was in the Brazils, when I first\nwent on shore there; and as much alone, except for the assistance of\nservants, as I was in my island.  I knew neither what to think nor what\nto do.  I saw the world busy around me: one part labouring for bread,\nanother part squandering in vile excesses or empty pleasures, but equally\nmiserable because the end they proposed still fled from them; for the men\nof pleasure every day surfeited of their vice, and heaped up work for\nsorrow and repentance; and the men of labour spent their strength in\ndaily struggling for bread to maintain the vital strength they laboured\nwith: so living in a daily circulation of sorrow, living but to work, and\nworking but to live, as if daily bread were the only end of wearisome\nlife, and a wearisome life the only occasion of daily bread.\nThis put me in mind of the life I lived in my kingdom, the island; where\nI suffered no more corn to grow, because I did not want it; and bred no\nmore goats, because I had no more use for them; where the money lay in\nthe drawer till it grew mouldy, and had scarce the favour to be looked\nupon in twenty years.  All these things, had I improved them as I ought\nto have done, and as reason and religion had dictated to me, would have\ntaught me to search farther than human enjoyments for a full felicity;\nand that there was something which certainly was the reason and end of\nlife superior to all these things, and which was either to be possessed,\nor at least hoped for, on this side of the grave.\nBut my sage counsellor was gone; I was like a ship without a pilot, that\ncould only run afore the wind.  My thoughts ran all away again into the\nold affair; my head was quite turned with the whimsies of foreign\nadventures; and all the pleasant, innocent amusements of my farm, my\ngarden, my cattle, and my family, which before entirely possessed me,\nwere nothing to me, had no relish, and were like music to one that has no\near, or food to one that has no taste.  In a word, I resolved to leave\noff housekeeping, let my farm, and return to London; and in a few months\nafter I did so.\nWhen I came to London, I was still as uneasy as I was before; I had no\nrelish for the place, no employment in it, nothing to do but to saunter\nabout like an idle person, of whom it may be said he is perfectly useless\nin God's creation, and it is not one farthing's matter to the rest of his\nkind whether he be dead or alive.  This also was the thing which, of all\ncircumstances of life, was the most my aversion, who had been all my days\nused to an active life; and I would often say to myself, \"A state of\nidleness is the very dregs of life;\" and, indeed, I thought I was much\nmore suitably employed when I was twenty-six days making a deal board.\nIt was now the beginning of the year 1693, when my nephew, whom, as I\nhave observed before, I had brought up to the sea, and had made him\ncommander of a ship, was come home from a short voyage to Bilbao, being\nthe first he had made.  He came to me, and told me that some merchants of\nhis acquaintance had been proposing to him to go a voyage for them to the\nEast Indies, and to China, as private traders.  \"And now, uncle,\" says\nhe, \"if you will go to sea with me, I will engage to land you upon your\nold habitation in the island; for we are to touch at the Brazils.\"\nNothing can be a greater demonstration of a future state, and of the\nexistence of an invisible world, than the concurrence of second causes\nwith the idea of things which we form in our minds, perfectly reserved,\nand not communicated to any in the world.\nMy nephew knew nothing how far my distemper of wandering was returned\nupon me, and I knew nothing of what he had in his thought to say, when\nthat very morning, before he came to me, I had, in a great deal of\nconfusion of thought, and revolving every part of my circumstances in my\nmind, come to this resolution, that I would go to Lisbon, and consult\nwith my old sea-captain; and if it was rational and practicable, I would\ngo and see the island again, and what was become of my people there.  I\nhad pleased myself with the thoughts of peopling the place, and carrying\ninhabitants from hence, getting a patent for the possession and I know\nnot what; when, in the middle of all this, in comes my nephew, as I have\nsaid, with his project of carrying me thither in his way to the East\nIndies.\nI paused a while at his words, and looking steadily at him, \"What devil,\"\nsaid I, \"sent you on this unlucky errand?\"  My nephew stared as if he had\nbeen frightened at first; but perceiving that I was not much displeased\nat the proposal, he recovered himself.  \"I hope it may not be an unlucky\nproposal, sir,\" says he.  \"I daresay you would be pleased to see your new\ncolony there, where you once reigned with more felicity than most of your\nbrother monarchs in the world.\"  In a word, the scheme hit so exactly\nwith my temper, that is to say, the prepossession I was under, and of\nwhich I have said so much, that I told him, in a few words, if he agreed\nwith the merchants, I would go with him; but I told him I would not\npromise to go any further than my own island.  \"Why, sir,\" says he, \"you\ndon't want to be left there again, I hope?\"  \"But,\" said I, \"can you not\ntake me up again on your return?\"  He told me it would not be possible to\ndo so; that the merchants would never allow him to come that way with a\nladen ship of such value, it being a month's sail out of his way, and\nmight be three or four.  \"Besides, sir, if I should miscarry,\" said he,\n\"and not return at all, then you would be just reduced to the condition\nyou were in before.\"\nThis was very rational; but we both found out a remedy for it, which was\nto carry a framed sloop on board the ship, which, being taken in pieces,\nmight, by the help of some carpenters, whom we agreed to carry with us,\nbe set up again in the island, and finished fit to go to sea in a few\ndays.  I was not long resolving, for indeed the importunities of my\nnephew joined so effectually with my inclination that nothing could\noppose me; on the other hand, my wife being dead, none concerned\nthemselves so much for me as to persuade me one way or the other, except\nmy ancient good friend the widow, who earnestly struggled with me to\nconsider my years, my easy circumstances, and the needless hazards of a\nlong voyage; and above all, my young children.  But it was all to no\npurpose, I had an irresistible desire for the voyage; and I told her I\nthought there was something so uncommon in the impressions I had upon my\nmind, that it would be a kind of resisting Providence if I should attempt\nto stay at home; after which she ceased her expostulations, and joined\nwith me, not only in making provision for my voyage, but also in settling\nmy family affairs for my absence, and providing for the education of my\nchildren.  In order to do this, I made my will, and settled the estate I\nhad in such a manner for my children, and placed in such hands, that I\nwas perfectly easy and satisfied they would have justice done them,\nwhatever might befall me; and for their education, I left it wholly to\nthe widow, with a sufficient maintenance to herself for her care: all\nwhich she richly deserved; for no mother could have taken more care in\ntheir education, or understood it better; and as she lived till I came\nhome, I also lived to thank her for it.\nMy nephew was ready to sail about the beginning of January 1694-5; and I,\nwith my man Friday, went on board, in the Downs, the 8th; having, besides\nthat sloop which I mentioned above, a very considerable cargo of all\nkinds of necessary things for my colony, which, if I did not find in good\ncondition, I resolved to leave so.\nFirst, I carried with me some servants whom I purposed to place there as\ninhabitants, or at least to set on work there upon my account while I\nstayed, and either to leave them there or carry them forward, as they\nshould appear willing; particularly, I carried two carpenters, a smith,\nand a very handy, ingenious fellow, who was a cooper by trade, and was\nalso a general mechanic; for he was dexterous at making wheels and hand-\nmills to grind corn, was a good turner and a good pot-maker; he also made\nanything that was proper to make of earth or of wood: in a word, we\ncalled him our Jack-of-all-trades.  With these I carried a tailor, who\nhad offered himself to go a passenger to the East Indies with my nephew,\nbut afterwards consented to stay on our new plantation, and who proved a\nmost necessary handy fellow as could be desired in many other businesses\nbesides that of his trade; for, as I observed formerly, necessity arms us\nfor all employments.\nMy cargo, as near as I can recollect, for I have not kept account of the\nparticulars, consisted of a sufficient quantity of linen, and some\nEnglish thin stuffs, for clothing the Spaniards that I expected to find\nthere; and enough of them, as by my calculation might comfortably supply\nthem for seven years; if I remember right, the materials I carried for\nclothing them, with gloves, hats, shoes, stockings, and all such things\nas they could want for wearing, amounted to about two hundred pounds,\nincluding some beds, bedding, and household stuff, particularly kitchen\nutensils, with pots, kettles, pewter, brass, &c.; and near a hundred\npounds more in ironwork, nails, tools of every kind, staples, hooks,\nhinges, and every necessary thing I could think of.\nI carried also a hundred spare arms, muskets, and fusees; besides some\npistols, a considerable quantity of shot of all sizes, three or four tons\nof lead, and two pieces of brass cannon; and, because I knew not what\ntime and what extremities I was providing for, I carried a hundred\nbarrels of powder, besides swords, cutlasses, and the iron part of some\npikes and halberds.  In short, we had a large magazine of all sorts of\nstore; and I made my nephew carry two small quarter-deck guns more than\nhe wanted for his ship, to leave behind if there was occasion; so that\nwhen we came there we might build a fort and man it against all sorts of\nenemies.  Indeed, I at first thought there would be need enough for all,\nand much more, if we hoped to maintain our possession of the island, as\nshall be seen in the course of that story.\nI had not such bad luck in this voyage as I had been used to meet with,\nand therefore shall have the less occasion to interrupt the reader, who\nperhaps may be impatient to hear how matters went with my colony; yet\nsome odd accidents, cross winds and bad weather happened on this first\nsetting out, which made the voyage longer than I expected it at first;\nand I, who had never made but one voyage, my first voyage to Guinea, in\nwhich I might be said to come back again, as the voyage was at first\ndesigned, began to think the same ill fate attended me, and that I was\nborn to be never contented with being on shore, and yet to be always\nunfortunate at sea.  Contrary winds first put us to the northward, and we\nwere obliged to put in at Galway, in Ireland, where we lay wind-bound two-\nand-twenty days; but we had this satisfaction with the disaster, that\nprovisions were here exceeding cheap, and in the utmost plenty; so that\nwhile we lay here we never touched the ship's stores, but rather added to\nthem.  Here, also, I took in several live hogs, and two cows with their\ncalves, which I resolved, if I had a good passage, to put on shore in my\nisland; but we found occasion to dispose otherwise of them.\nWe set out on the 5th of February from Ireland, and had a very fair gale\nof wind for some days.  As I remember, it might be about the 20th of\nFebruary in the evening late, when the mate, having the watch, came into\nthe round-house and told us he saw a flash of fire, and heard a gun\nfired; and while he was telling us of it, a boy came in and told us the\nboatswain heard another.  This made us all run out upon the quarter-deck,\nwhere for a while we heard nothing; but in a few minutes we saw a very\ngreat light, and found that there was some very terrible fire at a\ndistance; immediately we had recourse to our reckonings, in which we all\nagreed that there could be no land that way in which the fire showed\nitself, no, not for five hundred leagues, for it appeared at WNW.  Upon\nthis, we concluded it must be some ship on fire at sea; and as, by our\nhearing the noise of guns just before, we concluded that it could not be\nfar off, we stood directly towards it, and were presently satisfied we\nshould discover it, because the further we sailed, the greater the light\nappeared; though, the weather being hazy, we could not perceive anything\nbut the light for a while.  In about half-an-hour's sailing, the wind\nbeing fair for us, though not much of it, and the weather clearing up a\nlittle, we could plainly discern that it was a great ship on fire in the\nmiddle of the sea.\nI was most sensibly touched with this disaster, though not at all\nacquainted with the persons engaged in it; I presently recollected my\nformer circumstances, and what condition I was in when taken up by the\nPortuguese captain; and how much more deplorable the circumstances of the\npoor creatures belonging to that ship must be, if they had no other ship\nin company with them.  Upon this I immediately ordered that five guns\nshould be fired, one soon after another, that, if possible, we might give\nnotice to them that there was help for them at hand and that they might\nendeavour to save themselves in their boat; for though we could see the\nflames of the ship, yet they, it being night, could see nothing of us.\nWe lay by some time upon this, only driving as the burning ship drove,\nwaiting for daylight; when, on a sudden, to our great terror, though we\nhad reason to expect it, the ship blew up in the air; and in a few\nminutes all the fire was out, that is to say, the rest of the ship sunk.\nThis was a terrible, and indeed an afflicting sight, for the sake of the\npoor men, who, I concluded, must be either all destroyed in the ship, or\nbe in the utmost distress in their boat, in the middle of the ocean;\nwhich, at present, as it was dark, I could not see.  However, to direct\nthem as well as I could, I caused lights to be hung out in all parts of\nthe ship where we could, and which we had lanterns for, and kept firing\nguns all the night long, letting them know by this that there was a ship\nnot far off.\nAbout eight o'clock in the morning we discovered the ship's boats by the\nhelp of our perspective glasses, and found there were two of them, both\nthronged with people, and deep in the water.  We perceived they rowed,\nthe wind being against them; that they saw our ship, and did their utmost\nto make us see them.  We immediately spread our ancient, to let them know\nwe saw them, and hung a waft out, as a signal for them to come on board,\nand then made more sail, standing directly to them.  In little more than\nhalf-an-hour we came up with them; and took them all in, being no less\nthan sixty-four men, women, and children; for there were a great many\npassengers.\nUpon inquiry we found it was a French merchant ship of three-hundred\ntons, home-bound from Quebec.  The master gave us a long account of the\ndistress of his ship; how the fire began in the steerage by the\nnegligence of the steersman, which, on his crying out for help, was, as\neverybody thought, entirely put out; but they soon found that some sparks\nof the first fire had got into some part of the ship so difficult to come\nat that they could not effectually quench it; and afterwards getting in\nbetween the timbers, and within the ceiling of the ship, it proceeded\ninto the hold, and mastered all the skill and all the application they\nwere able to exert.\nThey had no more to do then but to get into their boats, which, to their\ngreat comfort, were pretty large; being their long-boat, and a great\nshallop, besides a small skiff, which was of no great service to them,\nother than to get some fresh water and provisions into her, after they\nhad secured their lives from the fire.  They had, indeed, small hopes of\ntheir lives by getting into these boats at that distance from any land;\nonly, as they said, that they thus escaped from the fire, and there was a\npossibility that some ship might happen to be at sea, and might take them\nin.  They had sails, oars, and a compass; and had as much provision and\nwater as, with sparing it so as to be next door to starving, might\nsupport them about twelve days, in which, if they had no bad weather and\nno contrary winds, the captain said he hoped he might get to the banks of\nNewfoundland, and might perhaps take some fish, to sustain them till they\nmight go on shore.  But there were so many chances against them in all\nthese cases, such as storms, to overset and founder them; rains and cold,\nto benumb and perish their limbs; contrary winds, to keep them out and\nstarve them; that it must have been next to miraculous if they had\nescaped.\nIn the midst of their consternation, every one being hopeless and ready\nto despair, the captain, with tears in his eyes, told me they were on a\nsudden surprised with the joy of hearing a gun fire, and after that four\nmore: these were the five guns which I caused to be fired at first seeing\nthe light.  This revived their hearts, and gave them the notice, which,\nas above, I desired it should, that there was a ship at hand for their\nhelp.  It was upon the hearing of these guns that they took down their\nmasts and sails: the sound coming from the windward, they resolved to lie\nby till morning.  Some time after this, hearing no more guns, they fired\nthree muskets, one a considerable while after another; but these, the\nwind being contrary, we never heard.  Some time after that again they\nwere still more agreeably surprised with seeing our lights, and hearing\nthe guns, which, as I have said, I caused to be fired all the rest of the\nnight.  This set them to work with their oars, to keep their boats ahead,\nat least that we might the sooner come up with them; and at last, to\ntheir inexpressible joy, they found we saw them.\nIt is impossible for me to express the several gestures, the strange\necstasies, the variety of postures which these poor delivered people ran\ninto, to express the joy of their souls at so unexpected a deliverance.\nGrief and fear are easily described: sighs, tears, groans, and a very few\nmotions of the head and hands, make up the sum of its variety; but an\nexcess of joy, a surprise of joy, has a thousand extravagances in it.\nThere were some in tears; some raging and tearing themselves, as if they\nhad been in the greatest agonies of sorrow; some stark raving and\ndownright lunatic; some ran about the ship stamping with their feet,\nothers wringing their hands; some were dancing, some singing, some\nlaughing, more crying, many quite dumb, not able to speak a word; others\nsick and vomiting; several swooning and ready to faint; and a few were\ncrossing themselves and giving God thanks.\nI would not wrong them either; there might be many that were thankful\nafterwards; but the passion was too strong for them at first, and they\nwere not able to master it: then were thrown into ecstasies, and a kind\nof frenzy, and it was but a very few that were composed and serious in\ntheir joy.  Perhaps also, the case may have some addition to it from the\nparticular circumstance of that nation they belonged to: I mean the\nFrench, whose temper is allowed to be more volatile, more passionate, and\nmore sprightly, and their spirits more fluid than in other nations.  I am\nnot philosopher enough to determine the cause; but nothing I had ever\nseen before came up to it.  The ecstasies poor Friday, my trusty savage,\nwas in when he found his father in the boat came the nearest to it; and\nthe surprise of the master and his two companions, whom I delivered from\nthe villains that set them on shore in the island, came a little way\ntowards it; but nothing was to compare to this, either that I saw in\nFriday, or anywhere else in my life.\nIt is further observable, that these extravagances did not show\nthemselves in that different manner I have mentioned, in different\npersons only; but all the variety would appear, in a short succession of\nmoments, in one and the same person.  A man that we saw this minute dumb,\nand, as it were, stupid and confounded, would the next minute be dancing\nand hallooing like an antic; and the next moment be tearing his hair, or\npulling his clothes to pieces, and stamping them under his feet like a\nmadman; in a few moments after that we would have him all in tears, then\nsick, swooning, and, had not immediate help been had, he would in a few\nmoments have been dead.  Thus it was, not with one or two, or ten or\ntwenty, but with the greatest part of them; and, if I remember right, our\nsurgeon was obliged to let blood of about thirty persons.\nThere were two priests among them: one an old man, and the other a young\nman; and that which was strangest was, the oldest man was the worst.  As\nsoon as he set his foot on board our ship, and saw himself safe, he\ndropped down stone dead to all appearance.  Not the least sign of life\ncould be perceived in him; our surgeon immediately applied proper\nremedies to recover him, and was the only man in the ship that believed\nhe was not dead.  At length he opened a vein in his arm, having first\nchafed and rubbed the part, so as to warm it as much as possible.  Upon\nthis the blood, which only dropped at first, flowing freely, in three\nminutes after the man opened his eyes; a quarter of an hour after that he\nspoke, grew better, and after the blood was stopped, he walked about,\ntold us he was perfectly well, and took a dram of cordial which the\nsurgeon gave him.  About a quarter of an hour after this they came\nrunning into the cabin to the surgeon, who was bleeding a Frenchwoman\nthat had fainted, and told him the priest was gone stark mad.  It seems\nhe had begun to revolve the change of his circumstances in his mind, and\nagain this put him into an ecstasy of joy.  His spirits whirled about\nfaster than the vessels could convey them, the blood grew hot and\nfeverish, and the man was as fit for Bedlam as any creature that ever was\nin it.  The surgeon would not bleed him again in that condition, but gave\nhim something to doze and put him to sleep; which, after some time,\noperated upon him, and he awoke next morning perfectly composed and well.\nThe younger priest behaved with great command of his passions, and was\nreally an example of a serious, well-governed mind.  At his first coming\non board the ship he threw himself flat on his face, prostrating himself\nin thankfulness for his deliverance, in which I unhappily and\nunseasonably disturbed him, really thinking he had been in a swoon; but\nhe spoke calmly, thanked me, told me he was giving God thanks for his\ndeliverance, begged me to leave him a few moments, and that, next to his\nMaker, he would give me thanks also.  I was heartily sorry that I\ndisturbed him, and not only left him, but kept others from interrupting\nhim also.  He continued in that posture about three minutes, or little\nmore, after I left him, then came to me, as he had said he would, and\nwith a great deal of seriousness and affection, but with tears in his\neyes, thanked me, that had, under God, given him and so many miserable\ncreatures their lives.  I told him I had no need to tell him to thank God\nfor it, rather than me, for I had seen that he had done that already; but\nI added that it was nothing but what reason and humanity dictated to all\nmen, and that we had as much reason as he to give thanks to God, who had\nblessed us so far as to make us the instruments of His mercy to so many\nof His creatures.  After this the young priest applied himself to his\ncountrymen, and laboured to compose them: he persuaded, entreated,\nargued, reasoned with them, and did his utmost to keep them within the\nexercise of their reason; and with some he had success, though others\nwere for a time out of all government of themselves.\nI cannot help committing this to writing, as perhaps it may be useful to\nthose into whose hands it may fall, for guiding themselves in the\nextravagances of their passions; for if an excess of joy can carry men\nout to such a length beyond the reach of their reason, what will not the\nextravagances of anger, rage, and a provoked mind carry us to?  And,\nindeed, here I saw reason for keeping an exceeding watch over our\npassions of every kind, as well those of joy and satisfaction as those of\nsorrow and anger.\nWe were somewhat disordered by these extravagances among our new guests\nfor the first day; but after they had retired to lodgings provided for\nthem as well as our ship would allow, and had slept heartily--as most of\nthem did, being fatigued and frightened--they were quite another sort of\npeople the next day.  Nothing of good manners, or civil acknowledgments\nfor the kindness shown them, was wanting; the French, it is known, are\nnaturally apt enough to exceed that way.  The captain and one of the\npriests came to me the next day, and desired to speak with me and my\nnephew; the commander began to consult with us what should be done with\nthem; and first, they told us we had saved their lives, so all they had\nwas little enough for a return to us for that kindness received.  The\ncaptain said they had saved some money and some things of value in their\nboats, caught hastily out of the flames, and if we would accept it they\nwere ordered to make an offer of it all to us; they only desired to be\nset on shore somewhere in our way, where, if possible, they might get a\npassage to France.  My nephew wished to accept their money at first word,\nand to consider what to do with them afterwards; but I overruled him in\nthat part, for I knew what it was to be set on shore in a strange\ncountry; and if the Portuguese captain that took me up at sea had served\nme so, and taken all I had for my deliverance, I must have been starved,\nor have been as much a slave at the Brazils as I had been at Barbary, the\nmere being sold to a Mahometan excepted; and perhaps a Portuguese is not\na much better master than a Turk, if not in some cases much worse.\nI therefore told the French captain that we had taken them up in their\ndistress, it was true, but that it was our duty to do so, as we were\nfellow-creatures; and we would desire to be so delivered if we were in\nthe like or any other extremity; that we had done nothing for them but\nwhat we believed they would have done for us if we had been in their case\nand they in ours; but that we took them up to save them, not to plunder\nthem; and it would be a most barbarous thing to take that little from\nthem which they had saved out of the fire, and then set them on shore and\nleave them; that this would be first to save them from death, and then\nkill them ourselves: save them from drowning, and abandon them to\nstarving; and therefore I would not let the least thing be taken from\nthem.  As to setting them on shore, I told them indeed that was an\nexceeding difficulty to us, for that the ship was bound to the East\nIndies; and though we were driven out of our course to the westward a\nvery great way, and perhaps were directed by Heaven on purpose for their\ndeliverance, yet it was impossible for us wilfully to change our voyage\non their particular account; nor could my nephew, the captain, answer it\nto the freighters, with whom he was under charter to pursue his voyage by\nway of Brazil; and all I knew we could do for them was to put ourselves\nin the way of meeting with other ships homeward bound from the West\nIndies, and get them a passage, if possible, to England or France.\nThe first part of the proposal was so generous and kind they could not\nbut be very thankful for it; but they were in very great consternation,\nespecially the passengers, at the notion of being carried away to the\nEast Indies; they then entreated me that as I was driven so far to the\nwestward before I met with them, I would at least keep on the same course\nto the banks of Newfoundland, where it was probable I might meet with\nsome ship or sloop that they might hire to carry them back to Canada.\nI thought this was but a reasonable request on their part, and therefore\nI inclined to agree to it; for indeed I considered that to carry this\nwhole company to the East Indies would not only be an intolerable\nseverity upon the poor people, but would be ruining our whole voyage by\ndevouring all our provisions; so I thought it no breach of charter-party,\nbut what an unforeseen accident made absolutely necessary to us, and in\nwhich no one could say we were to blame; for the laws of God and nature\nwould have forbid that we should refuse to take up two boats full of\npeople in such a distressed condition; and the nature of the thing, as\nwell respecting ourselves as the poor people, obliged us to set them on\nshore somewhere or other for their deliverance.  So I consented that we\nwould carry them to Newfoundland, if wind and weather would permit: and\nif not, I would carry them to Martinico, in the West Indies.\nThe wind continued fresh easterly, but the weather pretty good; and as\nthe winds had continued in the points between NE. and SE. a long time, we\nmissed several opportunities of sending them to France; for we met\nseveral ships bound to Europe, whereof two were French, from St.\nChristopher's, but they had been so long beating up against the wind that\nthey durst take in no passengers, for fear of wanting provisions for the\nvoyage, as well for themselves as for those they should take in; so we\nwere obliged to go on.  It was about a week after this that we made the\nbanks of Newfoundland; where, to shorten my story, we put all our French\npeople on board a bark, which they hired at sea there, to put them on\nshore, and afterwards to carry them to France, if they could get\nprovisions to victual themselves with.  When I say all the French went on\nshore, I should remember that the young priest I spoke of, hearing we\nwere bound to the East Indies, desired to go the voyage with us, and to\nbe set on shore on the coast of Coromandel; which I readily agreed to,\nfor I wonderfully liked the man, and had very good reason, as will appear\nafterwards; also four of the seamen entered themselves on our ship, and\nproved very useful fellows.\nFrom hence we directed our course for the West Indies, steering away S.\nand S. by E. for about twenty days together, sometimes little or no wind\nat all; when we met with another subject for our humanity to work upon,\nalmost as deplorable as that before.\nCHAPTER II--INTERVENING HISTORY OF COLONY\nIt was in the latitude of 27 degrees 5 minutes N., on the 19th day of\nMarch 1694-95, when we spied a sail, our course SE. and by S.  We soon\nperceived it was a large vessel, and that she bore up to us, but could\nnot at first know what to make of her, till, after coming a little\nnearer, we found she had lost her main-topmast, fore-mast, and bowsprit;\nand presently she fired a gun as a signal of distress.  The weather was\npretty good, wind at NNW. a fresh gale, and we soon came to speak with\nher.  We found her a ship of Bristol, bound home from Barbadoes, but had\nbeen blown out of the road at Barbadoes a few days before she was ready\nto sail, by a terrible hurricane, while the captain and chief mate were\nboth gone on shore; so that, besides the terror of the storm, they were\nin an indifferent case for good mariners to bring the ship home.  They\nhad been already nine weeks at sea, and had met with another terrible\nstorm, after the hurricane was over, which had blown them quite out of\ntheir knowledge to the westward, and in which they lost their masts.  They\ntold us they expected to have seen the Bahama Islands, but were then\ndriven away again to the south-east, by a strong gale of wind at NNW.,\nthe same that blew now: and having no sails to work the ship with but a\nmain course, and a kind of square sail upon a jury fore-mast, which they\nhad set up, they could not lie near the wind, but were endeavouring to\nstand away for the Canaries.\nBut that which was worst of all was, that they were almost starved for\nwant of provisions, besides the fatigues they had undergone; their bread\nand flesh were quite gone--they had not one ounce left in the ship, and\nhad had none for eleven days.  The only relief they had was, their water\nwas not all spent, and they had about half a barrel of flour left; they\nhad sugar enough; some succades, or sweetmeats, they had at first, but\nthese were all devoured; and they had seven casks of rum.  There was a\nyouth and his mother and a maid-servant on board, who were passengers,\nand thinking the ship was ready to sail, unhappily came on board the\nevening before the hurricane began; and having no provisions of their own\nleft, they were in a more deplorable condition than the rest: for the\nseamen being reduced to such an extreme necessity themselves, had no\ncompassion, we may be sure, for the poor passengers; and they were,\nindeed, in such a condition that their misery is very hard to describe.\nI had perhaps not known this part, if my curiosity had not led me, the\nweather being fair and the wind abated, to go on board the ship.  The\nsecond mate, who upon this occasion commanded the ship, had been on board\nour ship, and he told me they had three passengers in the great cabin\nthat were in a deplorable condition.  \"Nay,\" says he, \"I believe they are\ndead, for I have heard nothing of them for above two days; and I was\nafraid to inquire after them,\" said he, \"for I had nothing to relieve\nthem with.\"  We immediately applied ourselves to give them what relief we\ncould spare; and indeed I had so far overruled things with my nephew,\nthat I would have victualled them though we had gone away to Virginia, or\nany other part of the coast of America, to have supplied ourselves; but\nthere was no necessity for that.\nBut now they were in a new danger; for they were afraid of eating too\nmuch, even of that little we gave them.  The mate, or commander, brought\nsix men with him in his boat; but these poor wretches looked like\nskeletons, and were so weak that they could hardly sit to their oars.  The\nmate himself was very ill, and half starved; for he declared he had\nreserved nothing from the men, and went share and share alike with them\nin every bit they ate.  I cautioned him to eat sparingly, and set meat\nbefore him immediately, but he had not eaten three mouthfuls before he\nbegan to be sick and out of order; so he stopped a while, and our surgeon\nmixed him up something with some broth, which he said would be to him\nboth food and physic; and after he had taken it he grew better.  In the\nmeantime I forgot not the men.  I ordered victuals to be given them, and\nthe poor creatures rather devoured than ate it: they were so exceedingly\nhungry that they were in a manner ravenous, and had no command of\nthemselves; and two of them ate with so much greediness that they were in\ndanger of their lives the next morning.  The sight of these people's\ndistress was very moving to me, and brought to mind what I had a terrible\nprospect of at my first coming on shore in my island, where I had not the\nleast mouthful of food, or any prospect of procuring any; besides the\nhourly apprehensions I had of being made the food of other creatures.  But\nall the while the mate was thus relating to me the miserable condition of\nthe ship's company, I could not put out of my thought the story he had\ntold me of the three poor creatures in the great cabin, viz. the mother,\nher son, and the maid-servant, whom he had heard nothing of for two or\nthree days, and whom, he seemed to confess, they had wholly neglected,\ntheir own extremities being so great; by which I understood that they had\nreally given them no food at all, and that therefore they must be\nperished, and be all lying dead, perhaps, on the floor or deck of the\ncabin.\nAs I therefore kept the mate, whom we then called captain, on board with\nhis men, to refresh them, so I also forgot not the starving crew that\nwere left on board, but ordered my own boat to go on board the ship, and,\nwith my mate and twelve men, to carry them a sack of bread, and four or\nfive pieces of beef to boil.  Our surgeon charged the men to cause the\nmeat to be boiled while they stayed, and to keep guard in the cook-room,\nto prevent the men taking it to eat raw, or taking it out of the pot\nbefore it was well boiled, and then to give every man but a very little\nat a time: and by this caution he preserved the men, who would otherwise\nhave killed themselves with that very food that was given them on purpose\nto save their lives.\nAt the same time I ordered the mate to go into the great cabin, and see\nwhat condition the poor passengers were in; and if they were alive, to\ncomfort them, and give them what refreshment was proper: and the surgeon\ngave him a large pitcher, with some of the prepared broth which he had\ngiven the mate that was on board, and which he did not question would\nrestore them gradually.  I was not satisfied with this; but, as I said\nabove, having a great mind to see the scene of misery which I knew the\nship itself would present me with, in a more lively manner than I could\nhave it by report, I took the captain of the ship, as we now called him,\nwith me, and went myself, a little after, in their boat.\nI found the poor men on board almost in a tumult to get the victuals out\nof the boiler before it was ready; but my mate observed his orders, and\nkept a good guard at the cook-room door, and the man he placed there,\nafter using all possible persuasion to have patience, kept them off by\nforce; however, he caused some biscuit-cakes to be dipped in the pot, and\nsoftened with the liquor of the meat, which they called brewis, and gave\nthem every one some to stay their stomachs, and told them it was for\ntheir own safety that he was obliged to give them but little at a time.\nBut it was all in vain; and had I not come on board, and their own\ncommander and officers with me, and with good words, and some threats\nalso of giving them no more, I believe they would have broken into the\ncook-room by force, and torn the meat out of the furnace--for words are\nindeed of very small force to a hungry belly; however, we pacified them,\nand fed them gradually and cautiously at first, and the next time gave\nthem more, and at last filled their bellies, and the men did well enough.\nBut the misery of the poor passengers in the cabin was of another nature,\nand far beyond the rest; for as, first, the ship's company had so little\nfor themselves, it was but too true that they had at first kept them very\nlow, and at last totally neglected them: so that for six or seven days it\nmight be said they had really no food at all, and for several days before\nvery little.  The poor mother, who, as the men reported, was a woman of\nsense and good breeding, had spared all she could so affectionately for\nher son, that at last she entirely sank under it; and when the mate of\nour ship went in, she sat upon the floor on deck, with her back up\nagainst the sides, between two chairs, which were lashed fast, and her\nhead sunk between her shoulders like a corpse, though not quite dead.  My\nmate said all he could to revive and encourage her, and with a spoon put\nsome broth into her mouth.  She opened her lips, and lifted up one hand,\nbut could not speak: yet she understood what he said, and made signs to\nhim, intimating, that it was too late for her, but pointed to her child,\nas if she would have said they should take care of him.  However, the\nmate, who was exceedingly moved at the sight, endeavoured to get some of\nthe broth into her mouth, and, as he said, got two or three spoonfuls\ndown--though I question whether he could be sure of it or not; but it was\ntoo late, and she died the same night.\nThe youth, who was preserved at the price of his most affectionate\nmother's life, was not so far gone; yet he lay in a cabin bed, as one\nstretched out, with hardly any life left in him.  He had a piece of an\nold glove in his mouth, having eaten up the rest of it; however, being\nyoung, and having more strength than his mother, the mate got something\ndown his throat, and he began sensibly to revive; though by giving him,\nsome time after, but two or three spoonfuls extraordinary, he was very\nsick, and brought it up again.\nBut the next care was the poor maid: she lay all along upon the deck,\nhard by her mistress, and just like one that had fallen down in a fit of\napoplexy, and struggled for life.  Her limbs were distorted; one of her\nhands was clasped round the frame of the chair, and she gripped it so\nhard that we could not easily make her let it go; her other arm lay over\nher head, and her feet lay both together, set fast against the frame of\nthe cabin table: in short, she lay just like one in the agonies of death,\nand yet she was alive too.  The poor creature was not only starved with\nhunger, and terrified with the thoughts of death, but, as the men told us\nafterwards, was broken-hearted for her mistress, whom she saw dying for\ntwo or three days before, and whom she loved most tenderly.  We knew not\nwhat to do with this poor girl; for when our surgeon, who was a man of\nvery great knowledge and experience, had, with great application,\nrecovered her as to life, he had her upon his hands still; for she was\nlittle less than distracted for a considerable time after.\nWhoever shall read these memorandums must be desired to consider that\nvisits at sea are not like a journey into the country, where sometimes\npeople stay a week or a fortnight at a place.  Our business was to\nrelieve this distressed ship's crew, but not lie by for them; and though\nthey were willing to steer the same course with us for some days, yet we\ncould carry no sail to keep pace with a ship that had no masts.  However,\nas their captain begged of us to help him to set up a main-topmast, and a\nkind of a topmast to his jury fore-mast, we did, as it were, lie by him\nfor three or four days; and then, having given him five barrels of beef,\na barrel of pork, two hogsheads of biscuit, and a proportion of peas,\nflour, and what other things we could spare; and taking three casks of\nsugar, some rum, and some pieces of eight from them for satisfaction, we\nleft them, taking on board with us, at their own earnest request, the\nyouth and the maid, and all their goods.\nThe young lad was about seventeen years of age, a pretty, well-bred,\nmodest, and sensible youth, greatly dejected with the loss of his mother,\nand also at having lost his father but a few months before, at Barbadoes.\nHe begged of the surgeon to speak to me to take him out of the ship; for\nhe said the cruel fellows had murdered his mother: and indeed so they\nhad, that is to say, passively; for they might have spared a small\nsustenance to the poor helpless widow, though it had been but just enough\nto keep her alive; but hunger knows no friend, no relation, no justice,\nno right, and therefore is remorseless, and capable of no compassion.\nThe surgeon told him how far we were going, and that it would carry him\naway from all his friends, and put him, perhaps, in as bad circumstances\nalmost as those we found him in, that is to say, starving in the world.\nHe said it mattered not whither he went, if he was but delivered from the\nterrible crew that he was among; that the captain (by which he meant me,\nfor he could know nothing of my nephew) had saved his life, and he was\nsure would not hurt him; and as for the maid, he was sure, if she came to\nherself, she would be very thankful for it, let us carry them where we\nwould.  The surgeon represented the case so affectionately to me that I\nyielded, and we took them both on board, with all their goods, except\neleven hogsheads of sugar, which could not be removed or come at; and as\nthe youth had a bill of lading for them, I made his commander sign a\nwriting, obliging himself to go, as soon as he came to Bristol, to one\nMr. Rogers, a merchant there, to whom the youth said he was related, and\nto deliver a letter which I wrote to him, and all the goods he had\nbelonging to the deceased widow; which, I suppose, was not done, for I\ncould never learn that the ship came to Bristol, but was, as is most\nprobable, lost at sea, being in so disabled a condition, and so far from\nany land, that I am of opinion the first storm she met with afterwards\nshe might founder, for she was leaky, and had damage in her hold when we\nmet with her.\nI was now in the latitude of 19 degrees 32 minutes, and had hitherto a\ntolerable voyage as to weather, though at first the winds had been\ncontrary.  I shall trouble nobody with the little incidents of wind,\nweather, currents, &c., on the rest of our voyage; but to shorten my\nstory, shall observe that I came to my old habitation, the island, on the\n10th of April 1695.  It was with no small difficulty that I found the\nplace; for as I came to it and went to it before on the south and east\nside of the island, coming from the Brazils, so now, coming in between\nthe main and the island, and having no chart for the coast, nor any\nlandmark, I did not know it when I saw it, or, know whether I saw it or\nnot.  We beat about a great while, and went on shore on several islands\nin the mouth of the great river Orinoco, but none for my purpose; only\nthis I learned by my coasting the shore, that I was under one great\nmistake before, viz. that the continent which I thought I saw from the\nisland I lived in was really no continent, but a long island, or rather a\nridge of islands, reaching from one to the other side of the extended\nmouth of that great river; and that the savages who came to my island\nwere not properly those which we call Caribbees, but islanders, and other\nbarbarians of the same kind, who inhabited nearer to our side than the\nrest.\nIn short, I visited several of these islands to no purpose; some I found\nwere inhabited, and some were not; on one of them I found some Spaniards,\nand thought they had lived there; but speaking with them, found they had\na sloop lying in a small creek hard by, and came thither to make salt,\nand to catch some pearl-mussels if they could; but that they belonged to\nthe Isle de Trinidad, which lay farther north, in the latitude of 10 and\n11 degrees.\nThus coasting from one island to another, sometimes with the ship,\nsometimes with the Frenchman's shallop, which we had found a convenient\nboat, and therefore kept her with their very good will, at length I came\nfair on the south side of my island, and presently knew the very\ncountenance of the place: so I brought the ship safe to an anchor,\nbroadside with the little creek where my old habitation was.  As soon as\nI saw the place I called for Friday, and asked him if he knew where he\nwas?  He looked about a little, and presently clapping his hands, cried,\n\"Oh yes, Oh there, Oh yes, Oh there!\" pointing to our old habitation, and\nfell dancing and capering like a mad fellow; and I had much ado to keep\nhim from jumping into the sea to swim ashore to the place.\n\"Well, Friday,\" says I, \"do you think we shall find anybody here or no?\nand do you think we shall see your father?\"  The fellow stood mute as a\nstock a good while; but when I named his father, the poor affectionate\ncreature looked dejected, and I could see the tears run down his face\nvery plentifully.  \"What is the matter, Friday? are you troubled because\nyou may see your father?\"  \"No, no,\" says he, shaking his head, \"no see\nhim more: no, never more see him again.\"  \"Why so, Friday? how do you\nknow that?\"  \"Oh no, Oh no,\" says Friday, \"he long ago die, long ago; he\nmuch old man.\"  \"Well, well, Friday, you don't know; but shall we see any\none else, then?\"  The fellow, it seems, had better eyes than I, and he\npoints to the hill just above my old house; and though we lay half a\nleague off, he cries out, \"We see! we see! yes, we see much man there,\nand there, and there.\"  I looked, but I saw nobody, no, not with a\nperspective glass, which was, I suppose, because I could not hit the\nplace: for the fellow was right, as I found upon inquiry the next day;\nand there were five or six men all together, who stood to look at the\nship, not knowing what to think of us.\nAs soon as Friday told me he saw people, I caused the English ancient to\nbe spread, and fired three guns, to give them notice we were friends; and\nin about a quarter of an hour after we perceived a smoke arise from the\nside of the creek; so I immediately ordered the boat out, taking Friday\nwith me, and hanging out a white flag, I went directly on shore, taking\nwith me the young friar I mentioned, to whom I had told the story of my\nliving there, and the manner of it, and every particular both of myself\nand those I left there, and who was on that account extremely desirous to\ngo with me.  We had, besides, about sixteen men well armed, if we had\nfound any new guests there which we did not know of; but we had no need\nof weapons.\nAs we went on shore upon the tide of flood, near high water, we rowed\ndirectly into the creek; and the first man I fixed my eye upon was the\nSpaniard whose life I had saved, and whom I knew by his face perfectly\nwell: as to his habit, I shall describe it afterwards.  I ordered nobody\nto go on shore at first but myself; but there was no keeping Friday in\nthe boat, for the affectionate creature had spied his father at a\ndistance, a good way off the Spaniards, where, indeed, I saw nothing of\nhim; and if they had not let him go ashore, he would have jumped into the\nsea.  He was no sooner on shore, but he flew away to his father like an\narrow out of a bow.  It would have made any man shed tears, in spite of\nthe firmest resolution, to have seen the first transports of this poor\nfellow's joy when he came to his father: how he embraced him, kissed him,\nstroked his face, took him up in his arms, set him down upon a tree, and\nlay down by him; then stood and looked at him, as any one would look at a\nstrange picture, for a quarter of an hour together; then lay down on the\nground, and stroked his legs, and kissed them, and then got up again and\nstared at him; one would have thought the fellow bewitched.  But it would\nhave made a dog laugh the next day to see how his passion ran out another\nway: in the morning he walked along the shore with his father several\nhours, always leading him by the hand, as if he had been a lady; and\nevery now and then he would come to the boat to fetch something or other\nfor him, either a lump of sugar, a dram, a biscuit, or something or other\nthat was good.  In the afternoon his frolics ran another way; for then he\nwould set the old man down upon the ground, and dance about him, and make\na thousand antic gestures; and all the while he did this he would be\ntalking to him, and telling him one story or another of his travels, and\nof what had happened to him abroad to divert him.  In short, if the same\nfilial affection was to be found in Christians to their parents in our\npart of the world, one would be tempted to say there would hardly have\nbeen any need of the fifth commandment.\nBut this is a digression: I return to my landing.  It would be needless\nto take notice of all the ceremonies and civilities that the Spaniards\nreceived me with.  The first Spaniard, whom, as I said, I knew very well,\nwas he whose life I had saved.  He came towards the boat, attended by one\nmore, carrying a flag of truce also; and he not only did not know me at\nfirst, but he had no thoughts, no notion of its being me that was come,\ntill I spoke to him.  \"Seignior,\" said I, in Portuguese, \"do you not know\nme?\"  At which he spoke not a word, but giving his musket to the man that\nwas with him, threw his arms abroad, saying something in Spanish that I\ndid not perfectly hear, came forward and embraced me, telling me he was\ninexcusable not to know that face again that he had once seen, as of an\nangel from heaven sent to save his life; he said abundance of very\nhandsome things, as a well-bred Spaniard always knows how, and then,\nbeckoning to the person that attended him, bade him go and call out his\ncomrades.  He then asked me if I would walk to my old habitation, where\nhe would give me possession of my own house again, and where I should see\nthey had made but mean improvements.  I walked along with him, but, alas!\nI could no more find the place than if I had never been there; for they\nhad planted so many trees, and placed them in such a position, so thick\nand close to one another, and in ten years' time they were grown so big,\nthat the place was inaccessible, except by such windings and blind ways\nas they themselves only, who made them, could find.\nI asked them what put them upon all these fortifications; he told me I\nwould say there was need enough of it when they had given me an account\nhow they had passed their time since their arriving in the island,\nespecially after they had the misfortune to find that I was gone.  He\ntold me he could not but have some pleasure in my good fortune, when he\nheard that I was gone in a good ship, and to my satisfaction; and that he\nhad oftentimes a strong persuasion that one time or other he should see\nme again, but nothing that ever befell him in his life, he said, was so\nsurprising and afflicting to him at first as the disappointment he was\nunder when he came back to the island and found I was not there.\nAs to the three barbarians (so he called them) that were left behind, and\nof whom, he said, he had a long story to tell me, the Spaniards all\nthought themselves much better among the savages, only that their number\nwas so small: \"And,\" says he, \"had they been strong enough, we had been\nall long ago in purgatory;\" and with that he crossed himself on the\nbreast.  \"But, sir,\" says he, \"I hope you will not be displeased when I\nshall tell you how, forced by necessity, we were obliged for our own\npreservation to disarm them, and make them our subjects, as they would\nnot be content with being moderately our masters, but would be our\nmurderers.\"  I answered I was afraid of it when I left them there, and\nnothing troubled me at my parting from the island but that they were not\ncome back, that I might have put them in possession of everything first,\nand left the others in a state of subjection, as they deserved; but if\nthey had reduced them to it I was very glad, and should be very far from\nfinding any fault with it; for I knew they were a parcel of refractory,\nungoverned villains, and were fit for any manner of mischief.\nWhile I was saying this, the man came whom he had sent back, and with him\neleven more.  In the dress they were in it was impossible to guess what\nnation they were of; but he made all clear, both to them and to me.\nFirst, he turned to me, and pointing to them, said, \"These, sir, are some\nof the gentlemen who owe their lives to you;\" and then turning to them,\nand pointing to me, he let them know who I was; upon which they all came\nup, one by one, not as if they had been sailors, and ordinary fellows,\nand the like, but really as if they had been ambassadors or noblemen, and\nI a monarch or great conqueror: their behaviour was, to the last degree,\nobliging and courteous, and yet mixed with a manly, majestic gravity,\nwhich very well became them; and, in short, they had so much more manners\nthan I, that I scarce knew how to receive their civilities, much less how\nto return them in kind.\nThe history of their coming to, and conduct in, the island after my going\naway is so very remarkable, and has so many incidents which the former\npart of my relation will help to understand, and which will in most of\nthe particulars, refer to the account I have already given, that I cannot\nbut commit them, with great delight, to the reading of those that come\nafter me.\nIn order to do this as intelligibly as I can, I must go back to the\ncircumstances in which I left the island, and the persons on it, of whom\nI am to speak.  And first, it is necessary to repeat that I had sent away\nFriday's father and the Spaniard (the two whose lives I had rescued from\nthe savages) in a large canoe to the main, as I then thought it, to fetch\nover the Spaniard's companions that he left behind him, in order to save\nthem from the like calamity that he had been in, and in order to succour\nthem for the present; and that, if possible, we might together find some\nway for our deliverance afterwards.  When I sent them away I had no\nvisible appearance of, or the least room to hope for, my own deliverance,\nany more than I had twenty years before--much less had I any\nforeknowledge of what afterwards happened, I mean, of an English ship\ncoming on shore there to fetch me off; and it could not be but a very\ngreat surprise to them, when they came back, not only to find that I was\ngone, but to find three strangers left on the spot, possessed of all that\nI had left behind me, which would otherwise have been their own.\nThe first thing, however, which I inquired into, that I might begin where\nI left off, was of their own part; and I desired the Spaniard would give\nme a particular account of his voyage back to his countrymen with the\nboat, when I sent him to fetch them over.  He told me there was little\nvariety in that part, for nothing remarkable happened to them on the way,\nhaving had very calm weather and a smooth sea.  As for his countrymen, it\ncould not be doubted, he said, but that they were overjoyed to see him\n(it seems he was the principal man among them, the captain of the vessel\nthey had been shipwrecked in having been dead some time): they were, he\nsaid, the more surprised to see him, because they knew that he was fallen\ninto the hands of the savages, who, they were satisfied, would devour him\nas they did all the rest of their prisoners; that when he told them the\nstory of his deliverance, and in what manner he was furnished for\ncarrying them away, it was like a dream to them, and their astonishment,\nhe said, was somewhat like that of Joseph's brethren when he told them\nwho he was, and the story of his exaltation in Pharaoh's court; but when\nhe showed them the arms, the powder, the ball, the provisions that he\nbrought them for their journey or voyage, they were restored to\nthemselves, took a just share of the joy of their deliverance, and\nimmediately prepared to come away with him.\nTheir first business was to get canoes; and in this they were obliged not\nto stick so much upon the honesty of it, but to trespass upon their\nfriendly savages, and to borrow two large canoes, or periaguas, on\npretence of going out a-fishing, or for pleasure.  In these they came\naway the next morning.  It seems they wanted no time to get themselves\nready; for they had neither clothes nor provisions, nor anything in the\nworld but what they had on them, and a few roots to eat, of which they\nused to make their bread.  They were in all three weeks absent; and in\nthat time, unluckily for them, I had the occasion offered for my escape,\nas I mentioned in the other part, and to get off from the island, leaving\nthree of the most impudent, hardened, ungoverned, disagreeable villains\nbehind me that any man could desire to meet with--to the poor Spaniards'\ngreat grief and disappointment.\nThe only just thing the rogues did was, that when the Spaniards came\nashore, they gave my letter to them, and gave them provisions, and other\nrelief, as I had ordered them to do; also they gave them the long paper\nof directions which I had left with them, containing the particular\nmethods which I took for managing every part of my life there; the way I\nbaked my bread, bred up tame goats, and planted my corn; how I cured my\ngrapes, made my pots, and, in a word, everything I did.  All this being\nwritten down, they gave to the Spaniards (two of them understood English\nwell enough): nor did they refuse to accommodate the Spaniards with\nanything else, for they agreed very well for some time.  They gave them\nan equal admission into the house or cave, and they began to live very\nsociably; and the head Spaniard, who had seen pretty much of my methods,\ntogether with Friday's father, managed all their affairs; but as for the\nEnglishmen, they did nothing but ramble about the island, shoot parrots,\nand catch tortoises; and when they came home at night, the Spaniards\nprovided their suppers for them.\nThe Spaniards would have been satisfied with this had the others but let\nthem alone, which, however, they could not find in their hearts to do\nlong: but, like the dog in the manger, they would not eat themselves,\nneither would they let the others eat.  The differences, nevertheless,\nwere at first but trivial, and such as are not worth relating, but at\nlast it broke out into open war: and it began with all the rudeness and\ninsolence that can be imagined--without reason, without provocation,\ncontrary to nature, and indeed to common sense; and though, it is true,\nthe first relation of it came from the Spaniards themselves, whom I may\ncall the accusers, yet when I came to examine the fellows they could not\ndeny a word of it.\nBut before I come to the particulars of this part, I must supply a defect\nin my former relation; and this was, I forgot to set down among the rest,\nthat just as we were weighing the anchor to set sail, there happened a\nlittle quarrel on board of our ship, which I was once afraid would have\nturned to a second mutiny; nor was it appeased till the captain, rousing\nup his courage, and taking us all to his assistance, parted them by\nforce, and making two of the most refractory fellows prisoners, he laid\nthem in irons: and as they had been active in the former disorders, and\nlet fall some ugly, dangerous words the second time, he threatened to\ncarry them in irons to England, and have them hanged there for mutiny and\nrunning away with the ship.  This, it seems, though the captain did not\nintend to do it, frightened some other men in the ship; and some of them\nhad put it into the head of the rest that the captain only gave them good\nwords for the present, till they should come to same English port, and\nthat then they should be all put into gaol, and tried for their lives.\nThe mate got intelligence of this, and acquainted us with it, upon which\nit was desired that I, who still passed for a great man among them,\nshould go down with the mate and satisfy the men, and tell them that they\nmight be assured, if they behaved well the rest of the voyage, all they\nhad done for the time past should be pardoned.  So I went, and after\npassing my honour's word to them they appeared easy, and the more so when\nI caused the two men that were in irons to be released and forgiven.\nBut this mutiny had brought us to an anchor for that night; the wind also\nfalling calm next morning, we found that our two men who had been laid in\nirons had stolen each of them a musket and some other weapons (what\npowder or shot they had we knew not), and had taken the ship's pinnace,\nwhich was not yet hauled up, and run away with her to their companions in\nroguery on shore.  As soon as we found this, I ordered the long-boat on\nshore, with twelve men and the mate, and away they went to seek the\nrogues; but they could neither find them nor any of the rest, for they\nall fled into the woods when they saw the boat coming on shore.  The mate\nwas once resolved, in justice to their roguery, to have destroyed their\nplantations, burned all their household stuff and furniture, and left\nthem to shift without it; but having no orders, he let it all alone, left\neverything as he found it, and bringing the pinnace way, came on board\nwithout them.  These two men made their number five; but the other three\nvillains were so much more wicked than they, that after they had been two\nor three days together they turned the two newcomers out of doors to\nshift for themselves, and would have nothing to do with them; nor could\nthey for a good while be persuaded to give them any food: as for the\nSpaniards, they were not yet come.\nWhen the Spaniards came first on shore, the business began to go forward:\nthe Spaniards would have persuaded the three English brutes to have taken\nin their countrymen again, that, as they said, they might be all one\nfamily; but they would not hear of it, so the two poor fellows lived by\nthemselves; and finding nothing but industry and application would make\nthem live comfortably, they pitched their tents on the north shore of the\nisland, but a little more to the west, to be out of danger of the\nsavages, who always landed on the east parts of the island.  Here they\nbuilt them two huts, one to lodge in, and the other to lay up their\nmagazines and stores in; and the Spaniards having given them some corn\nfor seed, and some of the peas which I had left them, they dug, planted,\nand enclosed, after the pattern I had set for them all, and began to live\npretty well.  Their first crop of corn was on the ground; and though it\nwas but a little bit of land which they had dug up at first, having had\nbut a little time, yet it was enough to relieve them, and find them with\nbread and other eatables; and one of the fellows being the cook's mate of\nthe ship, was very ready at making soup, puddings, and such other\npreparations as the rice and the milk, and such little flesh as they got,\nfurnished him to do.\nThey were going on in this little thriving position when the three\nunnatural rogues, their own countrymen too, in mere humour, and to insult\nthem, came and bullied them, and told them the island was theirs: that\nthe governor, meaning me, had given them the possession of it, and nobody\nelse had any right to it; and that they should build no houses upon their\nground unless they would pay rent for them.  The two men, thinking they\nwere jesting at first, asked them to come in and sit down, and see what\nfine houses they were that they had built, and to tell them what rent\nthey demanded; and one of them merrily said if they were the\nground-landlords, he hoped if they built tenements upon their land, and\nmade improvements, they would, according to the custom of landlords,\ngrant a long lease: and desired they would get a scrivener to draw the\nwritings.  One of the three, cursing and raging, told them they should\nsee they were not in jest; and going to a little place at a distance,\nwhere the honest men had made a fire to dress their victuals, he takes a\nfirebrand, and claps it to the outside of their hut, and set it on fire:\nindeed, it would have been all burned down in a few minutes if one of the\ntwo had not run to the fellow, thrust him away, and trod the fire out\nwith his feet, and that not without some difficulty too.\nThe fellow was in such a rage at the honest man's thrusting him away,\nthat he returned upon him, with a pole he had in his hand, and had not\nthe man avoided the blow very nimbly, and run into the hut, he had ended\nhis days at once.  His comrade, seeing the danger they were both in, ran\nafter him, and immediately they came both out with their muskets, and the\nman that was first struck at with the pole knocked the fellow down that\nbegan the quarrel with the stock of his musket, and that before the other\ntwo could come to help him; and then, seeing the rest come at them, they\nstood together, and presenting the other ends of their pieces to them,\nbade them stand off.\nThe others had firearms with them too; but one of the two honest men,\nbolder than his comrade, and made desperate by his danger, told them if\nthey offered to move hand or foot they were dead men, and boldly\ncommanded them to lay down their arms.  They did not, indeed, lay down\ntheir arms, but seeing him so resolute, it brought them to a parley, and\nthey consented to take their wounded man with them and be gone: and,\nindeed, it seems the fellow was wounded sufficiently with the blow.\nHowever, they were much in the wrong, since they had the advantage, that\nthey did not disarm them effectually, as they might have done, and have\ngone immediately to the Spaniards, and given them an account how the\nrogues had treated them; for the three villains studied nothing but\nrevenge, and every day gave them some intimation that they did so.\nCHAPTER III--FIGHT WITH CANNIBALS\nBut not to crowd this part with an account of the lesser part of the\nrogueries with which they plagued them continually, night and day, it\nforced the two men to such a desperation that they resolved to fight them\nall three, the first time they had a fair opportunity.  In order to do\nthis they resolved to go to the castle (as they called my old dwelling),\nwhere the three rogues and the Spaniards all lived together at that time,\nintending to have a fair battle, and the Spaniards should stand by to see\nfair play: so they got up in the morning before day, and came to the\nplace, and called the Englishmen by their names telling a Spaniard that\nanswered that they wanted to speak with them.\nIt happened that the day before two of the Spaniards, having been in the\nwoods, had seen one of the two Englishmen, whom, for distinction, I\ncalled the honest men, and he had made a sad complaint to the Spaniards\nof the barbarous usage they had met with from their three countrymen, and\nhow they had ruined their plantation, and destroyed their corn, that they\nhad laboured so hard to bring forward, and killed the milch-goat and\ntheir three kids, which was all they had provided for their sustenance,\nand that if he and his friends, meaning the Spaniards, did not assist\nthem again, they should be starved.  When the Spaniards came home at\nnight, and they were all at supper, one of them took the freedom to\nreprove the three Englishmen, though in very gentle and mannerly terms,\nand asked them how they could be so cruel, they being harmless,\ninoffensive fellows: that they were putting themselves in a way to\nsubsist by their labour, and that it had cost them a great deal of pains\nto bring things to such perfection as they were then in.\nOne of the Englishmen returned very briskly, \"What had they to do there?\nthat they came on shore without leave; and that they should not plant or\nbuild upon the island; it was none of their ground.\"  \"Why,\" says the\nSpaniard, very calmly, \"Seignior Inglese, they must not starve.\"  The\nEnglishman replied, like a rough tarpaulin, \"They might starve; they\nshould not plant nor build in that place.\"  \"But what must they do then,\nseignior?\" said the Spaniard.  Another of the brutes returned, \"Do? they\nshould be servants, and work for them.\"  \"But how can you expect that of\nthem?\" says the Spaniard; \"they are not bought with your money; you have\nno right to make them servants.\"  The Englishman answered, \"The island\nwas theirs; the governor had given it to them, and no man had anything to\ndo there but themselves;\" and with that he swore that he would go and\nburn all their new huts; they should build none upon their land.  \"Why,\nseignior,\" says the Spaniard, \"by the same rule, we must be your\nservants, too.\"  \"Ay,\" returned the bold dog, \"and so you shall, too,\nbefore we have done with you;\" mixing two or three oaths in the proper\nintervals of his speech.  The Spaniard only smiled at that, and made him\nno answer.  However, this little discourse had heated them; and starting\nup, one says to the other.  (I think it was he they called Will Atkins),\n\"Come, Jack, let's go and have t'other brush with them; we'll demolish\ntheir castle, I'll warrant you; they shall plant no colony in our\ndominions.\"\nUpon this they were all trooping away, with every man a gun, a pistol,\nand a sword, and muttered some insolent things among themselves of what\nthey would do to the Spaniards, too, when opportunity offered; but the\nSpaniards, it seems, did not so perfectly understand them as to know all\nthe particulars, only that in general they threatened them hard for\ntaking the two Englishmen's part.  Whither they went, or how they\nbestowed their time that evening, the Spaniards said they did not know;\nbut it seems they wandered about the country part of the night, and them\nlying down in the place which I used to call my bower, they were weary\nand overslept themselves.  The case was this: they had resolved to stay\ntill midnight, and so take the two poor men when they were asleep, and as\nthey acknowledged afterwards, intended to set fire to their huts while\nthey were in them, and either burn them there or murder them as they came\nout.  As malice seldom sleeps very sound, it was very strange they should\nnot have been kept awake.  However, as the two men had also a design upon\nthem, as I have said, though a much fairer one than that of burning and\nmurdering, it happened, and very luckily for them all, that they were up\nand gone abroad before the bloody-minded rogues came to their huts.\nWhen they came there, and found the men gone, Atkins, who it seems was\nthe forwardest man, called out to his comrade, \"Ha, Jack, here's the\nnest, but the birds are flown.\"  They mused a while, to think what should\nbe the occasion of their being gone abroad so soon, and suggested\npresently that the Spaniards had given them notice of it; and with that\nthey shook hands, and swore to one another that they would be revenged of\nthe Spaniards.  As soon as they had made this bloody bargain they fell to\nwork with the poor men's habitation; they did not set fire, indeed, to\nanything, but they pulled down both their houses, and left not the least\nstick standing, or scarce any sign on the ground where they stood; they\ntore all their household stuff in pieces, and threw everything about in\nsuch a manner, that the poor men afterwards found some of their things a\nmile off.  When they had done this, they pulled up all the young trees\nwhich the poor men had planted; broke down an enclosure they had made to\nsecure their cattle and their corn; and, in a word, sacked and plundered\neverything as completely as a horde of Tartars would have done.\nThe two men were at this juncture gone to find them out, and had resolved\nto fight them wherever they had been, though they were but two to three;\nso that, had they met, there certainly would have been blood shed among\nthem, for they were all very stout, resolute fellows, to give them their\ndue.\nBut Providence took more care to keep them asunder than they themselves\ncould do to meet; for, as if they had dogged one another, when the three\nwere gone thither, the two were here; and afterwards, when the two went\nback to find them, the three were come to the old habitation again: we\nshall see their different conduct presently.  When the three came back\nlike furious creatures, flushed with the rage which the work they had\nbeen about had put them into, they came up to the Spaniards, and told\nthem what they had done, by way of scoff and bravado; and one of them\nstepping up to one of the Spaniards, as if they had been a couple of boys\nat play, takes hold of his hat as it was upon his head, and giving it a\ntwirl about, fleering in his face, says to him, \"And you, Seignior Jack\nSpaniard, shall have the same sauce if you do not mend your manners.\"  The\nSpaniard, who, though a quiet civil man, was as brave a man as could be,\nand withal a strong, well-made man, looked at him for a good while, and\nthen, having no weapon in his hand, stepped gravely up to him, and, with\none blow of his fist, knocked him down, as an ox is felled with a pole-\naxe; at which one of the rogues, as insolent as the first, fired his\npistol at the Spaniard immediately; he missed his body, indeed, for the\nbullets went through his hair, but one of them touched the tip of his\near, and he bled pretty much.  The blood made the Spaniard believe he was\nmore hurt than he really was, and that put him into some heat, for before\nhe acted all in a perfect calm; but now resolving to go through with his\nwork, he stooped, and taking the fellow's musket whom he had knocked\ndown, was just going to shoot the man who had fired at him, when the rest\nof the Spaniards, being in the cave, came out, and calling to him not to\nshoot, they stepped in, secured the other two, and took their arms from\nthem.\nWhen they were thus disarmed, and found they had made all the Spaniards\ntheir enemies, as well as their own countrymen, they began to cool, and\ngiving the Spaniards better words, would have their arms again; but the\nSpaniards, considering the feud that was between them and the other two\nEnglishmen, and that it would be the best method they could take to keep\nthem from killing one another, told them they would do them no harm, and\nif they would live peaceably, they would be very willing to assist and\nassociate with them as they did before; but that they could not think of\ngiving them their arms again, while they appeared so resolved to do\nmischief with them to their own countrymen, and had even threatened them\nall to make them their servants.\nThe rogues were now quite deaf to all reason, and being refused their\narms, they raved away like madmen, threatening what they would do, though\nthey had no firearms.  But the Spaniards, despising their threatening,\ntold them they should take care how they offered any injury to their\nplantation or cattle; for if they did they would shoot them as they would\nravenous beasts, wherever they found them; and if they fell into their\nhands alive, they should certainly be hanged.  However, this was far from\ncooling them, but away they went, raging and swearing like furies.  As\nsoon as they were gone, the two men came back, in passion and rage enough\nalso, though of another kind; for having been at their plantation, and\nfinding it all demolished and destroyed, as above mentioned, it will\neasily be supposed they had provocation enough.  They could scarce have\nroom to tell their tale, the Spaniards were so eager to tell them theirs:\nand it was strange enough to find that three men should thus bully\nnineteen, and receive no punishment at all.\nThe Spaniards, indeed, despised them, and especially, having thus\ndisarmed them, made light of their threatenings; but the two Englishmen\nresolved to have their remedy against them, what pains soever it cost to\nfind them out.  But the Spaniards interposed here too, and told them that\nas they had disarmed them, they could not consent that they (the two)\nshould pursue them with firearms, and perhaps kill them.  \"But,\" said the\ngrave Spaniard, who was their governor, \"we will endeavour to make them\ndo you justice, if you will leave it to us: for there is no doubt but\nthey will come to us again, when their passion is over, being not able to\nsubsist without our assistance.  We promise you to make no peace with\nthem without having full satisfaction for you; and upon this condition we\nhope you will promise to use no violence with them, other than in your\nown defence.\"  The two Englishmen yielded to this very awkwardly, and\nwith great reluctance; but the Spaniards protested that they did it only\nto keep them from bloodshed, and to make them all easy at last.  \"For,\"\nsaid they, \"we are not so many of us; here is room enough for us all, and\nit is a great pity that we should not be all good friends.\"  At length\nthey did consent, and waited for the issue of the thing, living for some\ndays with the Spaniards; for their own habitation was destroyed.\nIn about five days' time the vagrants, tired with wandering, and almost\nstarved with hunger, having chiefly lived on turtles' eggs all that\nwhile, came back to the grove; and finding my Spaniard, who, as I have\nsaid, was the governor, and two more with him, walking by the side of the\ncreek, they came up in a very submissive, humble manner, and begged to be\nreceived again into the society.  The Spaniards used them civilly, but\ntold them they had acted so unnaturally to their countrymen, and so very\ngrossly to themselves, that they could not come to any conclusion without\nconsulting the two Englishmen and the rest; but, however, they would go\nto them and discourse about it, and they should know in half-an-hour.  It\nmay be guessed that they were very hard put to it; for, as they were to\nwait this half-hour for an answer, they begged they would send them out\nsome bread in the meantime, which they did, sending at the same time a\nlarge piece of goat's flesh and a boiled parrot, which they ate very\neagerly.\nAfter half-an-hour's consultation they were called in, and a long debate\nensued, their two countrymen charging them with the ruin of all their\nlabour, and a design to murder them; all which they owned before, and\ntherefore could not deny now.  Upon the whole, the Spaniards acted the\nmoderators between them; and as they had obliged the two Englishmen not\nto hurt the three while they were naked and unarmed, so they now obliged\nthe three to go and rebuild their fellows' two huts, one to be of the\nsame and the other of larger dimensions than they were before; to fence\ntheir ground again, plant trees in the room of those pulled up, dig up\nthe land again for planting corn, and, in a word, to restore everything\nto the same state as they found it, that is, as near as they could.\nWell, they submitted to all this; and as they had plenty of provisions\ngiven them all the while, they grew very orderly, and the whole society\nbegan to live pleasantly and agreeably together again; only that these\nthree fellows could never be persuaded to work--I mean for\nthemselves--except now and then a little, just as they pleased.  However,\nthe Spaniards told them plainly that if they would but live sociably and\nfriendly together, and study the good of the whole plantation, they would\nbe content to work for them, and let them walk about and be as idle as\nthey pleased; and thus, having lived pretty well together for a month or\ntwo, the Spaniards let them have arms again, and gave them liberty to go\nabroad with them as before.\nIt was not above a week after they had these arms, and went abroad,\nbefore the ungrateful creatures began to be as insolent and troublesome\nas ever.  However, an accident happened presently upon this, which\nendangered the safety of them all, and they were obliged to lay by all\nprivate resentments, and look to the preservation of their lives.\nIt happened one night that the governor, the Spaniard whose life I had\nsaved, who was now the governor of the rest, found himself very uneasy in\nthe night, and could by no means get any sleep: he was perfectly well in\nbody, only found his thoughts tumultuous; his mind ran upon men fighting\nand killing one another; but he was broad awake, and could not by any\nmeans get any sleep; in short, he lay a great while, but growing more and\nmore uneasy, he resolved to rise.  As they lay, being so many of them, on\ngoat-skins laid thick upon such couches and pads as they made for\nthemselves, so they had little to do, when they were willing to rise, but\nto get upon their feet, and perhaps put on a coat, such as it was, and\ntheir pumps, and they were ready for going any way that their thoughts\nguided them.  Being thus got up, he looked out; but being dark, he could\nsee little or nothing, and besides, the trees which I had planted, and\nwhich were now grown tall, intercepted his sight, so that he could only\nlook up, and see that it was a starlight night, and hearing no noise, he\nreturned and lay down again; but to no purpose; he could not compose\nhimself to anything like rest; but his thoughts were to the last degree\nuneasy, and he knew not for what.  Having made some noise with rising and\nwalking about, going out and coming in, another of them waked, and asked\nwho it was that was up.  The governor told him how it had been with him.\n\"Say you so?\" says the other Spaniard; \"such things are not to be\nslighted, I assure you; there is certainly some mischief working near\nus;\" and presently he asked him, \"Where are the Englishmen?\"  \"They are\nall in their huts,\" says he, \"safe enough.\"  It seems the Spaniards had\nkept possession of the main apartment, and had made a place for the three\nEnglishmen, who, since their last mutiny, were always quartered by\nthemselves, and could not come at the rest.  \"Well,\" says the Spaniard,\n\"there is something in it, I am persuaded, from my own experience.  I am\nsatisfied that our spirits embodied have a converse with and receive\nintelligence from the spirits unembodied, and inhabiting the invisible\nworld; and this friendly notice is given for our advantage, if we knew\nhow to make use of it.  Come, let us go and look abroad; and if we find\nnothing at all in it to justify the trouble, I'll tell you a story to the\npurpose, that shall convince you of the justice of my proposing it.\"\nThey went out presently to go up to the top of the hill, where I used to\ngo; but they being strong, and a good company, nor alone, as I was, used\nnone of my cautions to go up by the ladder, and pulling it up after them,\nto go up a second stage to the top, but were going round through the\ngrove unwarily, when they were surprised with seeing a light as of fire,\na very little way from them, and hearing the voices of men, not of one or\ntwo, but of a great number.\nAmong the precautions I used to take on the savages landing on the\nisland, it was my constant care to prevent them making the least\ndiscovery of there being any inhabitant upon the place: and when by any\noccasion they came to know it, they felt it so effectually that they that\ngot away were scarce able to give any account of it; for we disappeared\nas soon as possible, nor did ever any that had seen me escape to tell any\none else, except it was the three savages in our last encounter who\njumped into the boat; of whom, I mentioned, I was afraid they should go\nhome and bring more help.  Whether it was the consequence of the escape\nof those men that so great a number came now together, or whether they\ncame ignorantly, and by accident, on their usual bloody errand, the\nSpaniards could not understand; but whatever it was, it was their\nbusiness either to have concealed themselves or not to have seen them at\nall, much less to have let the savages have seen there were any\ninhabitants in the place; or to have fallen upon them so effectually as\nnot a man of them should have escaped, which could only have been by\ngetting in between them and their boats; but this presence of mind was\nwanting to them, which was the ruin of their tranquillity for a great\nwhile.\nWe need not doubt but that the governor and the man with him, surprised\nwith this sight, ran back immediately and raised their fellows, giving\nthem an account of the imminent danger they were all in, and they again\nas readily took the alarm; but it was impossible to persuade them to stay\nclose within where they were, but they must all run out to see how things\nstood.  While it was dark, indeed, they were safe, and they had\nopportunity enough for some hours to view the savages by the light of\nthree fires they had made at a distance from one another; what they were\ndoing they knew not, neither did they know what to do themselves.  For,\nfirst, the enemy were too many; and secondly, they did not keep together,\nbut were divided into several parties, and were on shore in several\nplaces.\nThe Spaniards were in no small consternation at this sight; and, as they\nfound that the fellows went straggling all over the shore, they made no\ndoubt but, first or last, some of them would chop in upon their\nhabitation, or upon some other place where they would see the token of\ninhabitants; and they were in great perplexity also for fear of their\nflock of goats, which, if they should be destroyed, would have been\nlittle less than starving them.  So the first thing they resolved upon\nwas to despatch three men away before it was light, two Spaniards and one\nEnglishman, to drive away all the goats to the great valley where the\ncave was, and, if need were, to drive them into the very cave itself.\nCould they have seen the savages all together in one body, and at a\ndistance from their canoes, they were resolved, if there had been a\nhundred of them, to attack them; but that could not be done, for they\nwere some of them two miles off from the other, and, as it appeared\nafterwards, were of two different nations.\nAfter having mused a great while on the course they should take, they\nresolved at last, while it was still dark, to send the old savage,\nFriday's father, out as a spy, to learn, if possible, something\nconcerning them, as what they came for, what they intended to do, and the\nlike.  The old man readily undertook it; and stripping himself quite\nnaked, as most of the savages were, away he went.  After he had been gone\nan hour or two, he brings word that he had been among them undiscovered,\nthat he found they were two parties, and of two several nations, who had\nwar with one another, and had a great battle in their own country; and\nthat both sides having had several prisoners taken in the fight, they\nwere, by mere chance, landed all on the same island, for the devouring\ntheir prisoners and making merry; but their coming so by chance to the\nsame place had spoiled all their mirth--that they were in a great rage at\none another, and were so near that he believed they would fight again as\nsoon as daylight began to appear; but he did not perceive that they had\nany notion of anybody being on the island but themselves.  He had hardly\nmade an end of telling his story, when they could perceive, by the\nunusual noise they made, that the two little armies were engaged in a\nbloody fight.  Friday's father used all the arguments he could to\npersuade our people to lie close, and not be seen; he told them their\nsafety consisted in it, and that they had nothing to do but lie still,\nand the savages would kill one another to their hands, and then the rest\nwould go away; and it was so to a tittle.  But it was impossible to\nprevail, especially upon the Englishmen; their curiosity was so\nimportunate that they must run out and see the battle.  However, they\nused some caution too: they did not go openly, just by their own\ndwelling, but went farther into the woods, and placed themselves to\nadvantage, where they might securely see them manage the fight, and, as\nthey thought, not be seen by them; but the savages did see them, as we\nshall find hereafter.\nThe battle was very fierce, and, if I might believe the Englishmen, one\nof them said he could perceive that some of them were men of great\nbravery, of invincible spirit, and of great policy in guiding the fight.\nThe battle, they said, held two hours before they could guess which party\nwould be beaten; but then that party which was nearest our people's\nhabitation began to appear weakest, and after some time more some of them\nbegan to fly; and this put our men again into a great consternation, lest\nany one of those that fled should run into the grove before their\ndwelling for shelter, and thereby involuntarily discover the place; and\nthat, by consequence, the pursuers would also do the like in search of\nthem.  Upon this, they resolved that they would stand armed within the\nwall, and whoever came into the grove, they resolved to sally out over\nthe wall and kill them, so that, if possible, not one should return to\ngive an account of it; they ordered also that it should be done with\ntheir swords, or by knocking them down with the stocks of their muskets,\nbut not by shooting them, for fear of raising an alarm by the noise.\nAs they expected it fell out; three of the routed army fled for life, and\ncrossing the creek, ran directly into the place, not in the least knowing\nwhither they went, but running as into a thick wood for shelter.  The\nscout they kept to look abroad gave notice of this within, with this\ncomforting addition, that the conquerors had not pursued them, or seen\nwhich way they were gone; upon this the Spanish governor, a man of\nhumanity, would not suffer them to kill the three fugitives, but sending\nthree men out by the top of the hill, ordered them to go round, come in\nbehind them, and surprise and take them prisoners, which was done.  The\nresidue of the conquered people fled to their canoes, and got off to sea;\nthe victors retired, made no pursuit, or very little, but drawing\nthemselves into a body together, gave two great screaming shouts, most\nlikely by way of triumph, and so the fight ended; the same day, about\nthree o'clock in the afternoon, they also marched to their canoes.  And\nthus the Spaniards had the island again free to themselves, their fright\nwas over, and they saw no savages for several years after.\nAfter they were all gone, the Spaniards came out of their den, and\nviewing the field of battle, they found about two-and-thirty men dead on\nthe spot; some were killed with long arrows, which were found sticking in\ntheir bodies; but most of them were killed with great wooden swords,\nsixteen or seventeen of which they found in the field of battle, and as\nmany bows, with a great many arrows.  These swords were strange, unwieldy\nthings, and they must be very strong men that used them; most of those\nthat were killed with them had their heads smashed to pieces, as we may\nsay, or, as we call it in English, their brains knocked out, and several\ntheir arms and legs broken; so that it is evident they fight with\ninexpressible rage and fury.  We found not one man that was not stone\ndead; for either they stay by their enemy till they have killed him, or\nthey carry all the wounded men that are not quite dead away with them.\nThis deliverance tamed our ill-disposed Englishmen for a great while; the\nsight had filled them with horror, and the consequences appeared terrible\nto the last degree, especially upon supposing that some time or other\nthey should fall into the hands of those creatures, who would not only\nkill them as enemies, but for food, as we kill our cattle; and they\nprofessed to me that the thoughts of being eaten up like beef and mutton,\nthough it was supposed it was not to be till they were dead, had\nsomething in it so horrible that it nauseated their very stomachs, made\nthem sick when they thought of it, and filled their minds with such\nunusual terror, that they were not themselves for some weeks after.  This,\nas I said, tamed even the three English brutes I have been speaking of;\nand for a great while after they were tractable, and went about the\ncommon business of the whole society well enough--planted, sowed, reaped,\nand began to be all naturalised to the country.  But some time after this\nthey fell into such simple measures again as brought them into a great\ndeal of trouble.\nThey had taken three prisoners, as I observed; and these three being\nstout young fellows, they made them servants, and taught them to work for\nthem, and as slaves they did well enough; but they did not take their\nmeasures as I did by my man Friday, viz. to begin with them upon the\nprinciple of having saved their lives, and then instruct them in the\nrational principles of life; much less did they think of teaching them\nreligion, or attempt civilising and reducing them by kind usage and\naffectionate arguments.  As they gave them their food every day, so they\ngave them their work too, and kept them fully employed in drudgery\nenough; but they failed in this by it, that they never had them to assist\nthem and fight for them as I had my man Friday, who was as true to me as\nthe very flesh upon my bones.\nBut to come to the family part.  Being all now good friends--for common\ndanger, as I said above, had effectually reconciled them--they began to\nconsider their general circumstances; and the first thing that came under\nconsideration was whether, seeing the savages particularly haunted that\nside of the island, and that there were more remote and retired parts of\nit equally adapted to their way of living, and manifestly to their\nadvantage, they should not rather move their habitation, and plant in\nsome more proper place for their safety, and especially for the security\nof their cattle and corn.\nUpon this, after long debate, it was concluded that they would not remove\ntheir habitation; because that, some time or other, they thought they\nmight hear from their governor again, meaning me; and if I should send\nany one to seek them, I should be sure to direct them to that side,\nwhere, if they should find the place demolished, they would conclude the\nsavages had killed us all, and we were gone, and so our supply would go\ntoo.  But as to their corn and cattle, they agreed to remove them into\nthe valley where my cave was, where the land was as proper for both, and\nwhere indeed there was land enough.  However, upon second thoughts they\naltered one part of their resolution too, and resolved only to remove\npart of their cattle thither, and part of their corn there; so that if\none part was destroyed the other might be saved.  And one part of\nprudence they luckily used: they never trusted those three savages which\nthey had taken prisoners with knowing anything of the plantation they had\nmade in that valley, or of any cattle they had there, much less of the\ncave at that place, which they kept, in case of necessity, as a safe\nretreat; and thither they carried also the two barrels of powder which I\nhad sent them at my coming away.  They resolved, however, not to change\ntheir habitation; yet, as I had carefully covered it first with a wall or\nfortification, and then with a grove of trees, and as they were now fully\nconvinced their safety consisted entirely in their being concealed, they\nset to work to cover and conceal the place yet more effectually than\nbefore.  For this purpose, as I planted trees, or rather thrust in\nstakes, which in time all grew up to be trees, for some good distance\nbefore the entrance into my apartments, they went on in the same manner,\nand filled up the rest of that whole space of ground from the trees I had\nset quite down to the side of the creek, where I landed my floats, and\neven into the very ooze where the tide flowed, not so much as leaving any\nplace to land, or any sign that there had been any landing thereabouts:\nthese stakes also being of a wood very forward to grow, they took care to\nhave them generally much larger and taller than those which I had\nplanted.  As they grew apace, they planted them so very thick and close\ntogether, that when they had been three or four years grown there was no\npiercing with the eye any considerable way into the plantation.  As for\nthat part which I had planted, the trees were grown as thick as a man's\nthigh, and among them they had placed so many other short ones, and so\nthick, that it stood like a palisado a quarter of a mile thick, and it\nwas next to impossible to penetrate it, for a little dog could hardly get\nbetween the trees, they stood so close.\nBut this was not all; for they did the same by all the ground to the\nright hand and to the left, and round even to the side of the hill,\nleaving no way, not so much as for themselves, to come out but by the\nladder placed up to the side of the hill, and then lifted up, and placed\nagain from the first stage up to the top: so that when the ladder was\ntaken down, nothing but what had wings or witchcraft to assist it could\ncome at them.  This was excellently well contrived: nor was it less than\nwhat they afterwards found occasion for, which served to convince me,\nthat as human prudence has the authority of Providence to justify it, so\nit has doubtless the direction of Providence to set it to work; and if we\nlistened carefully to the voice of it, I am persuaded we might prevent\nmany of the disasters which our lives are now, by our own negligence,\nsubjected to.\nThey lived two years after this in perfect retirement, and had no more\nvisits from the savages.  They had, indeed, an alarm given them one\nmorning, which put them into a great consternation; for some of the\nSpaniards being out early one morning on the west side or end of the\nisland (which was that end where I never went, for fear of being\ndiscovered), they were surprised with seeing about twenty canoes of\nIndians just coming on shore.  They made the best of their way home in\nhurry enough; and giving the alarm to their comrades, they kept close all\nthat day and the next, going out only at night to make their observation:\nbut they had the good luck to be undiscovered, for wherever the savages\nwent, they did not land that time on the island, but pursued some other\ndesign.\nCHAPTER IV--RENEWED INVASION OF SAVAGES\nAnd now they had another broil with the three Englishmen; one of whom, a\nmost turbulent fellow, being in a rage at one of the three captive\nslaves, because the fellow had not done something right which he bade him\ndo, and seemed a little untractable in his showing him, drew a hatchet\nout of a frog-belt which he wore by his side, and fell upon the poor\nsavage, not to correct him, but to kill him.  One of the Spaniards who\nwas by, seeing him give the fellow a barbarous cut with the hatchet,\nwhich he aimed at his head, but stuck into his shoulder, so that he\nthought he had cut the poor creature's arm off, ran to him, and\nentreating him not to murder the poor man, placed himself between him and\nthe savage, to prevent the mischief.  The fellow, being enraged the more\nat this, struck at the Spaniard with his hatchet, and swore he would\nserve him as he intended to serve the savage; which the Spaniard\nperceiving, avoided the blow, and with a shovel, which he had in his hand\n(for they were all working in the field about their corn land), knocked\nthe brute down.  Another of the Englishmen, running up at the same time\nto help his comrade, knocked the Spaniard down; and then two Spaniards\nmore came in to help their man, and a third Englishman fell in upon them.\nThey had none of them any firearms or any other weapons but hatchets and\nother tools, except this third Englishman; he had one of my rusty\ncutlasses, with which he made at the two last Spaniards, and wounded them\nboth.  This fray set the whole family in an uproar, and more help coming\nin they took the three Englishmen prisoners.  The next question was, what\nshould be done with them?  They had been so often mutinous, and were so\nvery furious, so desperate, and so idle withal, they knew not what course\nto take with them, for they were mischievous to the highest degree, and\ncared not what hurt they did to any man; so that, in short, it was not\nsafe to live with them.\nThe Spaniard who was governor told them, in so many words, that if they\nhad been of his own country he would have hanged them; for all laws and\nall governors were to preserve society, and those who were dangerous to\nthe society ought to be expelled out of it; but as they were Englishmen,\nand that it was to the generous kindness of an Englishman that they all\nowed their preservation and deliverance, he would use them with all\npossible lenity, and would leave them to the judgment of the other two\nEnglishmen, who were their countrymen.  One of the two honest Englishmen\nstood up, and said they desired it might not be left to them.  \"For,\"\nsays he, \"I am sure we ought to sentence them to the gallows;\" and with\nthat he gives an account how Will Atkins, one of the three, had proposed\nto have all the five Englishmen join together and murder all the\nSpaniards when they were in their sleep.\nWhen the Spanish governor heard this, he calls to Will Atkins, \"How,\nSeignior Atkins, would you murder us all?  What have you to say to that?\"\nThe hardened villain was so far from denying it, that he said it was\ntrue, and swore they would do it still before they had done with them.\n\"Well, but Seignior Atkins,\" says the Spaniard, \"what have we done to you\nthat you will kill us?  What would you get by killing us?  And what must\nwe do to prevent you killing us?  Must we kill you, or you kill us?  Why\nwill you put us to the necessity of this, Seignior Atkins?\" says the\nSpaniard very calmly, and smiling.  Seignior Atkins was in such a rage at\nthe Spaniard's making a jest of it, that, had he not been held by three\nmen, and withal had no weapon near him, it was thought he would have\nattempted to kill the Spaniard in the middle of all the company.  This\nhare-brained carriage obliged them to consider seriously what was to be\ndone.  The two Englishmen and the Spaniard who saved the poor savage were\nof the opinion that they should hang one of the three for an example to\nthe rest, and that particularly it should be he that had twice attempted\nto commit murder with his hatchet; indeed, there was some reason to\nbelieve he had done it, for the poor savage was in such a miserable\ncondition with the wound he had received that it was thought he could not\nlive.  But the governor Spaniard still said No; it was an Englishman that\nhad saved all their lives, and he would never consent to put an\nEnglishman to death, though he had murdered half of them; nay, he said if\nhe had been killed himself by an Englishman, and had time left to speak,\nit should be that they should pardon him.\nThis was so positively insisted on by the governor Spaniard, that there\nwas no gainsaying it; and as merciful counsels are most apt to prevail\nwhere they are so earnestly pressed, so they all came into it.  But then\nit was to be considered what should be done to keep them from doing the\nmischief they designed; for all agreed, governor and all, that means were\nto be used for preserving the society from danger.  After a long debate,\nit was agreed that they should be disarmed, and not permitted to have\neither gun, powder, shot, sword, or any weapon; that they should be\nturned out of the society, and left to live where they would and how they\nwould, by themselves; but that none of the rest, either Spaniards or\nEnglish, should hold any kind of converse with them, or have anything to\ndo with them; that they should be forbid to come within a certain\ndistance of the place where the rest dwelt; and if they offered to commit\nany disorder, so as to spoil, burn, kill, or destroy any of the corn,\nplantings, buildings, fences, or cattle belonging to the society, they\nshould die without mercy, and they would shoot them wherever they could\nfind them.\nThe humane governor, musing upon the sentence, considered a little upon\nit; and turning to the two honest Englishmen, said, \"Hold; you must\nreflect that it will be long ere they can raise corn and cattle of their\nown, and they must not starve; we must therefore allow them provisions.\"\nSo he caused to be added, that they should have a proportion of corn\ngiven them to last them eight months, and for seed to sow, by which time\nthey might be supposed to raise some of their own; that they should have\nsix milch-goats, four he-goats, and six kids given them, as well for\npresent subsistence as for a store; and that they should have tools given\nthem for their work in the fields, but they should have none of these\ntools or provisions unless they would swear solemnly that they would not\nhurt or injure any of the Spaniards with them, or of their\nfellow-Englishmen.\nThus they dismissed them the society, and turned them out to shift for\nthemselves.  They went away sullen and refractory, as neither content to\ngo away nor to stay: but, as there was no remedy, they went, pretending\nto go and choose a place where they would settle themselves; and some\nprovisions were given them, but no weapons.  About four or five days\nafter, they came again for some victuals, and gave the governor an\naccount where they had pitched their tents, and marked themselves out a\nhabitation and plantation; and it was a very convenient place indeed, on\nthe remotest part of the island, NE., much about the place where I\nprovidentially landed in my first voyage, when I was driven out to sea in\nmy foolish attempt to sail round the island.\nHere they built themselves two handsome huts, and contrived them in a\nmanner like my first habitation, being close under the side of a hill,\nhaving some trees already growing on three sides of it, so that by\nplanting others it would be very easily covered from the sight, unless\nnarrowly searched for.  They desired some dried goat-skins for beds and\ncovering, which were given them; and upon giving their words that they\nwould not disturb the rest, or injure any of their plantations, they gave\nthem hatchets, and what other tools they could spare; some peas, barley,\nand rice, for sowing; and, in a word, anything they wanted, except arms\nand ammunition.\nThey lived in this separate condition about six months, and had got in\ntheir first harvest, though the quantity was but small, the parcel of\nland they had planted being but little.  Indeed, having all their\nplantation to form, they had a great deal of work upon their hands; and\nwhen they came to make boards and pots, and such things, they were quite\nout of their element, and could make nothing of it; therefore when the\nrainy season came on, for want of a cave in the earth, they could not\nkeep their grain dry, and it was in great danger of spoiling.  This\nhumbled them much: so they came and begged the Spaniards to help them,\nwhich they very readily did; and in four days worked a great hole in the\nside of the hill for them, big enough to secure their corn and other\nthings from the rain: but it was a poor place at best compared to mine,\nand especially as mine was then, for the Spaniards had greatly enlarged\nit, and made several new apartments in it.\nAbout three quarters of a year after this separation, a new frolic took\nthese rogues, which, together with the former villainy they had\ncommitted, brought mischief enough upon them, and had very near been the\nruin of the whole colony.  The three new associates began, it seems, to\nbe weary of the laborious life they led, and that without hope of\nbettering their circumstances: and a whim took them that they would make\na voyage to the continent, from whence the savages came, and would try if\nthey could seize upon some prisoners among the natives there, and bring\nthem home, so as to make them do the laborious part of the work for them.\nThe project was not so preposterous, if they had gone no further.  But\nthey did nothing, and proposed nothing, but had either mischief in the\ndesign, or mischief in the event.  And if I may give my opinion, they\nseemed to be under a blast from Heaven: for if we will not allow a\nvisible curse to pursue visible crimes, how shall we reconcile the events\nof things with the divine justice?  It was certainly an apparent\nvengeance on their crime of mutiny and piracy that brought them to the\nstate they were in; and they showed not the least remorse for the crime,\nbut added new villanies to it, such as the piece of monstrous cruelty of\nwounding a poor slave because he did not, or perhaps could not,\nunderstand to do what he was directed, and to wound him in such a manner\nas made him a cripple all his life, and in a place where no surgeon or\nmedicine could be had for his cure; and, what was still worse, the\nintentional murder, for such to be sure it was, as was afterwards the\nformed design they all laid to murder the Spaniards in cold blood, and in\ntheir sleep.\nThe three fellows came down to the Spaniards one morning, and in very\nhumble terms desired to be admitted to speak with them.  The Spaniards\nvery readily heard what they had to say, which was this: that they were\ntired of living in the manner they did, and that they were not handy\nenough to make the necessaries they wanted, and that having no help, they\nfound they should be starved; but if the Spaniards would give them leave\nto take one of the canoes which they came over in, and give them arms and\nammunition proportioned to their defence, they would go over to the main,\nand seek their fortunes, and so deliver them from the trouble of\nsupplying them with any other provisions.\nThe Spaniards were glad enough to get rid of them, but very honestly\nrepresented to them the certain destruction they were running into; told\nthem they had suffered such hardships upon that very spot, that they\ncould, without any spirit of prophecy, tell them they would be starved or\nmurdered, and bade them consider of it.  The men replied audaciously,\nthey should be starved if they stayed here, for they could not work, and\nwould not work, and they could but be starved abroad; and if they were\nmurdered, there was an end of them; they had no wives or children to cry\nafter them; and, in short, insisted importunately upon their demand,\ndeclaring they would go, whether they gave them any arms or not.\nThe Spaniards told them, with great kindness, that if they were resolved\nto go they should not go like naked men, and be in no condition to defend\nthemselves; and that though they could ill spare firearms, not having\nenough for themselves, yet they would let them have two muskets, a\npistol, and a cutlass, and each man a hatchet, which they thought was\nsufficient for them.  In a word, they accepted the offer; and having\nbaked bread enough to serve them a month given them, and as much goats'\nflesh as they could eat while it was sweet, with a great basket of dried\ngrapes, a pot of fresh water, and a young kid alive, they boldly set out\nin the canoe for a voyage over the sea, where it was at least forty miles\nbroad.  The boat, indeed, was a large one, and would very well have\ncarried fifteen or twenty men, and therefore was rather too big for them\nto manage; but as they had a fair breeze and flood-tide with them, they\ndid well enough.  They had made a mast of a long pole, and a sail of four\nlarge goat-skins dried, which they had sewed or laced together; and away\nthey went merrily together.  The Spaniards called after them \"_Bon\nvoyajo_;\" and no man ever thought of seeing them any more.\nThe Spaniards were often saying to one another, and to the two honest\nEnglishmen who remained behind, how quietly and comfortably they lived,\nnow these three turbulent fellows were gone.  As for their coming again,\nthat was the remotest thing from their thoughts that could be imagined;\nwhen, behold, after two-and-twenty days' absence, one of the Englishmen\nbeing abroad upon his planting work, sees three strange men coming\ntowards him at a distance, with guns upon their shoulders.\nAway runs the Englishman, frightened and amazed, as if he was bewitched,\nto the governor Spaniard, and tells him they were all undone, for there\nwere strangers upon the island, but he could not tell who they were.  The\nSpaniard, pausing a while, says to him, \"How do you mean--you cannot tell\nwho?  They are the savages, to be sure.\"  \"No, no,\" says the Englishman,\n\"they are men in clothes, with arms.\"  \"Nay, then,\" says the Spaniard,\n\"why are you so concerned!  If they are not savages they must be friends;\nfor there is no Christian nation upon earth but will do us good rather\nthan harm.\"  While they were debating thus, came up the three Englishmen,\nand standing without the wood, which was new planted, hallooed to them.\nThey presently knew their voices, and so all the wonder ceased.  But now\nthe admiration was turned upon another question--What could be the\nmatter, and what made them come back again?\nIt was not long before they brought the men in, and inquiring where they\nhad been, and what they had been doing, they gave them a full account of\ntheir voyage in a few words: that they reached the land in less than two\ndays, but finding the people alarmed at their coming, and preparing with\nbows and arrows to fight them, they durst not go on shore, but sailed on\nto the northward six or seven hours, till they came to a great opening,\nby which they perceived that the land they saw from our island was not\nthe main, but an island: that upon entering that opening of the sea they\nsaw another island on the right hand north, and several more west; and\nbeing resolved to land somewhere, they put over to one of the islands\nwhich lay west, and went boldly on shore; that they found the people very\ncourteous and friendly to them; and they gave them several roots and some\ndried fish, and appeared very sociable; and that the women, as well as\nthe men, were very forward to supply them with anything they could get\nfor them to eat, and brought it to them a great way, on their heads.  They\ncontinued here for four days, and inquired as well as they could of them\nby signs, what nations were this way, and that way, and were told of\nseveral fierce and terrible people that lived almost every way, who, as\nthey made known by signs to them, used to eat men; but, as for\nthemselves, they said they never ate men or women, except only such as\nthey took in the wars; and then they owned they made a great feast, and\nate their prisoners.\nThe Englishmen inquired when they had had a feast of that kind; and they\ntold them about two moons ago, pointing to the moon and to two fingers;\nand that their great king had two hundred prisoners now, which he had\ntaken in his war, and they were feeding them to make them fat for the\nnext feast.  The Englishmen seemed mighty desirous of seeing those\nprisoners; but the others mistaking them, thought they were desirous to\nhave some of them to carry away for their own eating.  So they beckoned\nto them, pointing to the setting of the sun, and then to the rising;\nwhich was to signify that the next morning at sunrising they would bring\nsome for them; and accordingly the next morning they brought down five\nwomen and eleven men, and gave them to the Englishmen to carry with them\non their voyage, just as we would bring so many cows and oxen down to a\nseaport town to victual a ship.\nAs brutish and barbarous as these fellows were at home, their stomachs\nturned at this sight, and they did not know what to do.  To refuse the\nprisoners would have been the highest affront to the savage gentry that\ncould be offered them, and what to do with them they knew not.  However,\nafter some debate, they resolved to accept of them: and, in return, they\ngave the savages that brought them one of their hatchets, an old key, a\nknife, and six or seven of their bullets; which, though they did not\nunderstand their use, they seemed particularly pleased with; and then\ntying the poor creatures' hands behind them, they dragged the prisoners\ninto the boat for our men.\nThe Englishmen were obliged to come away as soon as they had them, or\nelse they that gave them this noble present would certainly have expected\nthat they should have gone to work with them, have killed two or three of\nthem the next morning, and perhaps have invited the donors to dinner.  But\nhaving taken their leave, with all the respect and thanks that could well\npass between people, where on either side they understood not one word\nthey could say, they put off with their boat, and came back towards the\nfirst island; where, when they arrived, they set eight of their prisoners\nat liberty, there being too many of them for their occasion.  In their\nvoyage they endeavoured to have some communication with their prisoners;\nbut it was impossible to make them understand anything.  Nothing they\ncould say to them, or give them, or do for them, but was looked upon as\ngoing to murder them.  They first of all unbound them; but the poor\ncreatures screamed at that, especially the women, as if they had just\nfelt the knife at their throats; for they immediately concluded they were\nunbound on purpose to be killed.  If they gave them thing to eat, it was\nthe same thing; they then concluded it was for fear they should sink in\nflesh, and so not be fat enough to kill.  If they looked at one of them\nmore particularly, the party presently concluded it was to see whether he\nor she was fattest, and fittest to kill first; nay, after they had\nbrought them quite over, and began to use them kindly, and treat them\nwell, still they expected every day to make a dinner or supper for their\nnew masters.\nWhen the three wanderers had give this unaccountable history or journal\nof their voyage, the Spaniard asked them where their new family was; and\nbeing told that they had brought them on shore, and put them into one of\ntheir huts, and were come up to beg some victuals for them, they (the\nSpaniards) and the other two Englishmen, that is to say, the whole\ncolony, resolved to go all down to the place and see them; and did so,\nand Friday's father with them.  When they came into the hut, there they\nsat, all bound; for when they had brought them on shore they bound their\nhands that they might not take the boat and make their escape; there, I\nsay, they sat, all of them stark naked.  First, there were three comely\nfellows, well shaped, with straight limbs, about thirty to thirty-five\nyears of age; and five women, whereof two might be from thirty to forty,\ntwo more about four or five and twenty; and the fifth, a tall, comely\nmaiden, about seventeen.  The women were well-favoured, agreeable\npersons, both in shape and features, only tawny; and two of them, had\nthey been perfect white, would have passed for very handsome women, even\nin London, having pleasant countenances, and of a very modest behaviour;\nespecially when they came afterwards to be clothed and dressed, though\nthat dress was very indifferent, it must be confessed.\nThe sight, you may be sure, was something uncouth to our Spaniards, who\nwere, to give them a just character, men of the most calm, sedate\ntempers, and perfect good humour, that ever I met with: and, in\nparticular, of the utmost modesty: I say, the sight was very uncouth, to\nsee three naked men and five naked women, all together bound, and in the\nmost miserable circumstances that human nature could be supposed to be,\nviz. to be expecting every moment to be dragged out and have their brains\nknocked out, and then to be eaten up like a calf that is killed for a\ndainty.\nThe first thing they did was to cause the old Indian, Friday's father, to\ngo in, and see first if he knew any of them, and then if he understood\nany of their speech.  As soon as the old man came in, he looked seriously\nat them, but knew none of them; neither could any of them understand a\nword he said, or a sign he could make, except one of the women.  However,\nthis was enough to answer the end, which was to satisfy them that the men\ninto whose hands they were fallen were Christians; that they abhorred\neating men or women; and that they might be sure they would not be\nkilled.  As soon as they were assured of this, they discovered such a\njoy, and by such awkward gestures, several ways, as is hard to describe;\nfor it seems they were of several nations.  The woman who was their\ninterpreter was bid, in the next place, to ask them if they were willing\nto be servants, and to work for the men who had brought them away, to\nsave their lives; at which they all fell a-dancing; and presently one\nfell to taking up this, and another that, anything that lay next, to\ncarry on their shoulders, to intimate they were willing to work.\nThe governor, who found that the having women among them would presently\nbe attended with some inconvenience, and might occasion some strife, and\nperhaps blood, asked the three men what they intended to do with these\nwomen, and how they intended to use them, whether as servants or as\nwives?  One of the Englishmen answered, very boldly and readily, that\nthey would use them as both; to which the governor said: \"I am not going\nto restrain you from it--you are your own masters as to that; but this I\nthink is but just, for avoiding disorders and quarrels among you, and I\ndesire it of you for that reason only, viz. that you will all engage,\nthat if any of you take any of these women as a wife, he shall take but\none; and that having taken one, none else shall touch her; for though we\ncannot marry any one of you, yet it is but reasonable that, while you\nstay here, the woman any of you takes shall be maintained by the man that\ntakes her, and should be his wife--I mean,\" says he, \"while he continues\nhere, and that none else shall have anything to do with her.\"  All this\nappeared so just, that every one agreed to it without any difficulty.\nThen the Englishmen asked the Spaniards if they designed to take any of\nthem?  But every one of them answered \"No.\"  Some of them said they had\nwives in Spain, and the others did not like women that were not\nChristians; and all together declared that they would not touch one of\nthem, which was an instance of such virtue as I have not met with in all\nmy travels.  On the other hand, the five Englishmen took them every one a\nwife, that is to say, a temporary wife; and so they set up a new form of\nliving; for the Spaniards and Friday's father lived in my old habitation,\nwhich they had enlarged exceedingly within.  The three servants which\nwere taken in the last battle of the savages lived with them; and these\ncarried on the main part of the colony, supplied all the rest with food,\nand assisted them in anything as they could, or as they found necessity\nrequired.\nBut the wonder of the story was, how five such refractory, ill-matched\nfellows should agree about these women, and that some two of them should\nnot choose the same woman, especially seeing two or three of them were,\nwithout comparison, more agreeable than the others; but they took a good\nway enough to prevent quarrelling among themselves, for they set the five\nwomen by themselves in one of their huts, and they went all into the\nother hut, and drew lots among them who should choose first.\nHim that drew to choose first went away by himself to the hut where the\npoor naked creatures were, and fetched out her he chose; and it was worth\nobserving, that he that chose first took her that was reckoned the\nhomeliest and oldest of the five, which made mirth enough amongst the\nrest; and even the Spaniards laughed at it; but the fellow considered\nbetter than any of them, that it was application and business they were\nto expect assistance in, as much as in anything else; and she proved the\nbest wife of all the parcel.\nWhen the poor women saw themselves set in a row thus, and fetched out one\nby one, the terrors of their condition returned upon them again, and they\nfirmly believed they were now going to be devoured.  Accordingly, when\nthe English sailor came in and fetched out one of them, the rest set up a\nmost lamentable cry, and hung about her, and took their leave of her with\nsuch agonies and affection as would have grieved the hardest heart in the\nworld: nor was it possible for the Englishmen to satisfy them that they\nwere not to be immediately murdered, till they fetched the old man,\nFriday's father, who immediately let them know that the five men, who\nwere to fetch them out one by one, had chosen them for their wives.  When\nthey had done, and the fright the women were in was a little over, the\nmen went to work, and the Spaniards came and helped them: and in a few\nhours they had built them every one a new hut or tent for their lodging\napart; for those they had already were crowded with their tools,\nhousehold stuff, and provisions.  The three wicked ones had pitched\nfarthest off, and the two honest ones nearer, but both on the north shore\nof the island, so that they continued separated as before; and thus my\nisland was peopled in three places, and, as I might say, three towns were\nbegun to be built.\nAnd here it is very well worth observing that, as it often happens in the\nworld (what the wise ends in God's providence are, in such a disposition\nof things, I cannot say), the two honest fellows had the two worst wives;\nand the three reprobates, that were scarce worth hanging, that were fit\nfor nothing, and neither seemed born to do themselves good nor any one\nelse, had three clever, careful, and ingenious wives; not that the first\ntwo were bad wives as to their temper or humour, for all the five were\nmost willing, quiet, passive, and subjected creatures, rather like slaves\nthan wives; but my meaning is, they were not alike capable, ingenious, or\nindustrious, or alike cleanly and neat.  Another observation I must make,\nto the honour of a diligent application on one hand, and to the disgrace\nof a slothful, negligent, idle temper on the other, that when I came to\nthe place, and viewed the several improvements, plantings, and management\nof the several little colonies, the two men had so far out-gone the\nthree, that there was no comparison.  They had, indeed, both of them as\nmuch ground laid out for corn as they wanted, and the reason was,\nbecause, according to my rule, nature dictated that it was to no purpose\nto sow more corn than they wanted; but the difference of the cultivation,\nof the planting, of the fences, and indeed, of everything else, was easy\nto be seen at first view.\nThe two men had innumerable young trees planted about their huts, so\nthat, when you came to the place, nothing was to be seen but a wood; and\nthough they had twice had their plantation demolished, once by their own\ncountrymen, and once by the enemy, as shall be shown in its place, yet\nthey had restored all again, and everything was thriving and flourishing\nabout them; they had grapes planted in order, and managed like a\nvineyard, though they had themselves never seen anything of that kind;\nand by their good ordering their vines, their grapes were as good again\nas any of the others.  They had also found themselves out a retreat in\nthe thickest part of the woods, where, though there was not a natural\ncave, as I had found, yet they made one with incessant labour of their\nhands, and where, when the mischief which followed happened, they secured\ntheir wives and children so as they could never be found; they having, by\nsticking innumerable stakes and poles of the wood which, as I said, grew\nso readily, made the grove impassable, except in some places, when they\nclimbed up to get over the outside part, and then went on by ways of\ntheir own leaving.\nAs to the three reprobates, as I justly call them, though they were much\ncivilised by their settlement compared to what they were before, and were\nnot so quarrelsome, having not the same opportunity; yet one of the\ncertain companions of a profligate mind never left them, and that was\ntheir idleness.  It is true, they planted corn and made fences; but\nSolomon's words were never better verified than in them, \"I went by the\nvineyard of the slothful, and it was all overgrown with thorns\": for when\nthe Spaniards came to view their crop they could not see it in some\nplaces for weeds, the hedge had several gaps in it, where the wild goats\nhad got in and eaten up the corn; perhaps here and there a dead bush was\ncrammed in, to stop them out for the present, but it was only shutting\nthe stable-door after the steed was stolen.  Whereas, when they looked on\nthe colony of the other two, there was the very face of industry and\nsuccess upon all they did; there was not a weed to be seen in all their\ncorn, or a gap in any of their hedges; and they, on the other hand,\nverified Solomon's words in another place, \"that the diligent hand maketh\nrich\"; for everything grew and thrived, and they had plenty within and\nwithout; they had more tame cattle than the others, more utensils and\nnecessaries within doors, and yet more pleasure and diversion too.\nIt is true, the wives of the three were very handy and cleanly within\ndoors; and having learned the English ways of dressing, and cooking from\none of the other Englishmen, who, as I said, was a cook's mate on board\nthe ship, they dressed their husbands' victuals very nicely and well;\nwhereas the others could not be brought to understand it; but then the\nhusband, who, as I say, had been cook's mate, did it himself.  But as for\nthe husbands of the three wives, they loitered about, fetched turtles'\neggs, and caught fish and birds: in a word, anything but labour; and they\nfared accordingly.  The diligent lived well and comfortably, and the\nslothful hard and beggarly; and so, I believe, generally speaking, it is\nall over the world.\nBut I now come to a scene different from all that had happened before,\neither to them or to me; and the origin of the story was this: Early one\nmorning there came on shore five or six canoes of Indians or savages,\ncall them which you please, and there is no room to doubt they came upon\nthe old errand of feeding upon their slaves; but that part was now so\nfamiliar to the Spaniards, and to our men too, that they did not concern\nthemselves about it, as I did: but having been made sensible, by their\nexperience, that their only business was to lie concealed, and that if\nthey were not seen by any of the savages they would go off again quietly,\nwhen their business was done, having as yet not the least notion of there\nbeing any inhabitants in the island; I say, having been made sensible of\nthis, they had nothing to do but to give notice to all the three\nplantations to keep within doors, and not show themselves, only placing a\nscout in a proper place, to give notice when the boats went to sea again.\nThis was, without doubt, very right; but a disaster spoiled all these\nmeasures, and made it known among the savages that there were inhabitants\nthere; which was, in the end, the desolation of almost the whole colony.\nAfter the canoes with the savages were gone off, the Spaniards peeped\nabroad again; and some of them had the curiosity to go to the place where\nthey had been, to see what they had been doing.  Here, to their great\nsurprise, they found three savages left behind, and lying fast asleep\nupon the ground.  It was supposed they had either been so gorged with\ntheir inhuman feast, that, like beasts, they were fallen asleep, and\nwould not stir when the others went, or they had wandered into the woods,\nand did not come back in time to be taken in.\nThe Spaniards were greatly surprised at this sight and perfectly at a\nloss what to do.  The Spaniard governor, as it happened, was with them,\nand his advice was asked, but he professed he knew not what to do.  As\nfor slaves, they had enough already; and as to killing them, there were\nnone of them inclined to do that: the Spaniard governor told me they\ncould not think of shedding innocent blood; for as to them, the poor\ncreatures had done them no wrong, invaded none of their property, and\nthey thought they had no just quarrel against them, to take away their\nlives.  And here I must, in justice to these Spaniards, observe that, let\nthe accounts of Spanish cruelty in Mexico and Peru be what they will, I\nnever met with seventeen men of any nation whatsoever, in any foreign\ncountry, who were so universally modest, temperate, virtuous, so very\ngood-humoured, and so courteous, as these Spaniards: and as to cruelty,\nthey had nothing of it in their very nature; no inhumanity, no barbarity,\nno outrageous passions; and yet all of them men of great courage and\nspirit.  Their temper and calmness had appeared in their bearing the\ninsufferable usage of the three Englishmen; and their justice and\nhumanity appeared now in the case of the savages above.  After some\nconsultation they resolved upon this; that they would lie still a while\nlonger, till, if possible, these three men might be gone.  But then the\ngovernor recollected that the three savages had no boat; and if they were\nleft to rove about the island, they would certainly discover that there\nwere inhabitants in it; and so they should be undone that way.  Upon\nthis, they went back again, and there lay the fellows fast asleep still,\nand so they resolved to awaken them, and take them prisoners; and they\ndid so.  The poor fellows were strangely frightened when they were seized\nupon and bound; and afraid, like the women, that they should be murdered\nand eaten: for it seems those people think all the world does as they do,\nin eating men's flesh; but they were soon made easy as to that, and away\nthey carried them.\nIt was very happy for them that they did not carry them home to the\ncastle, I mean to my palace under the hill; but they carried them first\nto the bower, where was the chief of their country work, such as the\nkeeping the goats, the planting the corn, &c.; and afterward they carried\nthem to the habitation of the two Englishmen.  Here they were set to\nwork, though it was not much they had for them to do; and whether it was\nby negligence in guarding them, or that they thought the fellows could\nnot mend themselves, I know not, but one of them ran away, and, taking to\nthe woods, they could never hear of him any more.  They had good reason\nto believe he got home again soon after in some other boats or canoes of\nsavages who came on shore three or four weeks afterwards, and who,\ncarrying on their revels as usual, went off in two days' time.  This\nthought terrified them exceedingly; for they concluded, and that not\nwithout good cause indeed, that if this fellow came home safe among his\ncomrades, he would certainly give them an account that there were people\nin the island, and also how few and weak they were; for this savage, as\nobserved before, had never been told, and it was very happy he had not,\nhow many there were or where they lived; nor had he ever seen or heard\nthe fire of any of their guns, much less had they shown him any of their\nother retired places; such as the cave in the valley, or the new retreat\nwhich the two Englishmen had made, and the like.\nThe first testimony they had that this fellow had given intelligence of\nthem was, that about two months after this six canoes of savages, with\nabout seven, eight, or ten men in a canoe, came rowing along the north\nside of the island, where they never used to come before, and landed,\nabout an hour after sunrise, at a convenient place, about a mile from the\nhabitation of the two Englishmen, where this escaped man had been kept.\nAs the chief Spaniard said, had they been all there the damage would not\nhave been so much, for not a man of them would have escaped; but the case\ndiffered now very much, for two men to fifty was too much odds.  The two\nmen had the happiness to discover them about a league off, so that it was\nabove an hour before they landed; and as they landed a mile from their\nhuts, it was some time before they could come at them.  Now, having great\nreason to believe that they were betrayed, the first thing they did was\nto bind the two slaves which were left, and cause two of the three men\nwhom they brought with the women (who, it seems, proved very faithful to\nthem) to lead them, with their two wives, and whatever they could carry\naway with them, to their retired places in the woods, which I have spoken\nof above, and there to bind the two fellows hand and foot, till they\nheard farther.  In the next place, seeing the savages were all come on\nshore, and that they had bent their course directly that way, they opened\nthe fences where the milch cows were kept, and drove them all out;\nleaving their goats to straggle in the woods, whither they pleased, that\nthe savages might think they were all bred wild; but the rogue who came\nwith them was too cunning for that, and gave them an account of it all,\nfor they went directly to the place.\nWhen the two poor frightened men had secured their wives and goods, they\nsent the other slave they had of the three who came with the women, and\nwho was at their place by accident, away to the Spaniards with all speed,\nto give them the alarm, and desire speedy help, and, in the meantime,\nthey took their arms and what ammunition they had, and retreated towards\nthe place in the wood where their wives were sent; keeping at a distance,\nyet so that they might see, if possible, which way the savages took.  They\nhad not gone far but that from a rising ground they could see the little\narmy of their enemies come on directly to their habitation, and, in a\nmoment more, could see all their huts and household stuff flaming up\ntogether, to their great grief and mortification; for this was a great\nloss to them, irretrievable, indeed, for some time.  They kept their\nstation for a while, till they found the savages, like wild beasts,\nspread themselves all over the place, rummaging every way, and every\nplace they could think of, in search of prey; and in particular for the\npeople, of whom now it plainly appeared they had intelligence.\nThe two Englishmen seeing this, thinking themselves not secure where they\nstood, because it was likely some of the wild people might come that way,\nand they might come too many together, thought it proper to make another\nretreat about half a mile farther; believing, as it afterwards happened,\nthat the further they strolled, the fewer would be together.  Their next\nhalt was at the entrance into a very thick-grown part of the woods, and\nwhere an old trunk of a tree stood, which was hollow and very large; and\nin this tree they both took their standing, resolving to see there what\nmight offer.  They had not stood there long before two of the savages\nappeared running directly that way, as if they had already had notice\nwhere they stood, and were coming up to attack them; and a little way\nfarther they espied three more coming after them, and five more beyond\nthem, all coming the same way; besides which, they saw seven or eight\nmore at a distance, running another way; for in a word, they ran every\nway, like sportsmen beating for their game.\nThe poor men were now in great perplexity whether they should stand and\nkeep their posture or fly; but after a very short debate with themselves,\nthey considered that if the savages ranged the country thus before help\ncame, they might perhaps find their retreat in the woods, and then all\nwould be lost; so they resolved to stand them there, and if they were too\nmany to deal with, then they would get up to the top of the tree, from\nwhence they doubted not to defend themselves, fire excepted, as long as\ntheir ammunition lasted, though all the savages that were landed, which\nwas near fifty, were to attack them.\nHaving resolved upon this, they next considered whether they should fire\nat the first two, or wait for the three, and so take the middle party, by\nwhich the two and the five that followed would be separated; at length\nthey resolved to let the first two pass by, unless they should spy them\nthe tree, and come to attack them.  The first two savages confirmed them\nalso in this resolution, by turning a little from them towards another\npart of the wood; but the three, and the five after them, came forward\ndirectly to the tree, as if they had known the Englishmen were there.\nSeeing them come so straight towards them, they resolved to take them in\na line as they came: and as they resolved to fire but one at a time,\nperhaps the first shot might hit them all three; for which purpose the\nman who was to fire put three or four small bullets into his piece; and\nhaving a fair loophole, as it were, from a broken hole in the tree, he\ntook a sure aim, without being seen, waiting till they were within about\nthirty yards of the tree, so that he could not miss.\nWhile they were thus waiting, and the savages came on, they plainly saw\nthat one of the three was the runaway savage that had escaped from them;\nand they both knew him distinctly, and resolved that, if possible, he\nshould not escape, though they should both fire; so the other stood ready\nwith his piece, that if he did not drop at the first shot, he should be\nsure to have a second.  But the first was too good a marksman to miss his\naim; for as the savages kept near one another, a little behind in a line,\nhe fired, and hit two of them directly; the foremost was killed outright,\nbeing shot in the head; the second, which was the runaway Indian, was\nshot through the body, and fell, but was not quite dead; and the third\nhad a little scratch in the shoulder, perhaps by the same ball that went\nthrough the body of the second; and being dreadfully frightened, though\nnot so much hurt, sat down upon the ground, screaming and yelling in a\nhideous manner.\nThe five that were behind, more frightened with the noise than sensible\nof the danger, stood still at first; for the woods made the sound a\nthousand times bigger than it really was, the echoes rattling from one\nside to another, and the fowls rising from all parts, screaming, and\nevery sort making a different noise, according to their kind; just as it\nwas when I fired the first gun that perhaps was ever shot off in the\nisland.\nHowever, all being silent again, and they not knowing what the matter\nwas, came on unconcerned, till they came to the place where their\ncompanions lay in a condition miserable enough.  Here the poor ignorant\ncreatures, not sensible that they were within reach of the same mischief,\nstood all together over the wounded man, talking, and, as may be\nsupposed, inquiring of him how he came to be hurt; and who, it is very\nrational to believe, told them that a flash of fire first, and\nimmediately after that thunder from their gods, had killed those two and\nwounded him.  This, I say, is rational; for nothing is more certain than\nthat, as they saw no man near them, so they had never heard a gun in all\ntheir lives, nor so much as heard of a gun; neither knew they anything of\nkilling and wounding at a distance with fire and bullets: if they had,\none might reasonably believe they would not have stood so unconcerned to\nview the fate of their fellows, without some apprehensions of their own.\nOur two men, as they confessed to me, were grieved to be obliged to kill\nso many poor creatures, who had no notion of their danger; yet, having\nthem all thus in their power, and the first having loaded his piece\nagain, resolved to let fly both together among them; and singling out, by\nagreement, which to aim at, they shot together, and killed, or very much\nwounded, four of them; the fifth, frightened even to death, though not\nhurt, fell with the rest; so that our men, seeing them all fall together,\nthought they had killed them all.\nThe belief that the savages were all killed made our two men come boldly\nout from the tree before they had charged their guns, which was a wrong\nstep; and they were under some surprise when they came to the place, and\nfound no less than four of them alive, and of them two very little hurt,\nand one not at all.  This obliged them to fall upon them with the stocks\nof their muskets; and first they made sure of the runaway savage, that\nhad been the cause of all the mischief, and of another that was hurt in\nthe knee, and put them out of their pain; then the man that was not hurt\nat all came and kneeled down to them, with his two hands held up, and\nmade piteous moans to them, by gestures and signs, for his life, but\ncould not say one word to them that they could understand.  However, they\nmade signs to him to sit down at the foot of a tree hard by; and one of\nthe Englishmen, with a piece of rope-yarn, which he had by great chance\nin his pocket, tied his two hands behind him, and there they left him;\nand with what speed they could made after the other two, which were gone\nbefore, fearing they, or any more of them, should find way to their\ncovered place in the woods, where their wives, and the few goods they had\nleft, lay.  They came once in sight of the two men, but it was at a great\ndistance; however, they had the satisfaction to see them cross over a\nvalley towards the sea, quite the contrary way from that which led to\ntheir retreat, which they were afraid of; and being satisfied with that,\nthey went back to the tree where they left their prisoner, who, as they\nsupposed, was delivered by his comrades, for he was gone, and the two\npieces of rope-yarn with which they had bound him lay just at the foot of\nthe tree.\nThey were now in as great concern as before, not knowing what course to\ntake, or how near the enemy might be, or in what number; so they resolved\nto go away to the place where their wives were, to see if all was well\nthere, and to make them easy.  These were in fright enough, to be sure;\nfor though the savages were their own countrymen, yet they were most\nterribly afraid of them, and perhaps the more for the knowledge they had\nof them.  When they came there, they found the savages had been in the\nwood, and very near that place, but had not found it; for it was indeed\ninaccessible, from the trees standing so thick, unless the persons\nseeking it had been directed by those that knew it, which these did not:\nthey found, therefore, everything very safe, only the women in a terrible\nfright.  While they were here they had the comfort to have seven of the\nSpaniards come to their assistance; the other ten, with their servants,\nand Friday's father, were gone in a body to defend their bower, and the\ncorn and cattle that were kept there, in case the savages should have\nroved over to that side of the country, but they did not spread so far.\nWith the seven Spaniards came one of the three savages, who, as I said,\nwere their prisoners formerly; and with them also came the savage whom\nthe Englishmen had left bound hand and foot at the tree; for it seems\nthey came that way, saw the slaughter of the seven men, and unbound the\neighth, and brought him along with them; where, however, they were\nobliged to bind again, as they had the two others who were left when the\nthird ran away.\nThe prisoners now began to be a burden to them; and they were so afraid\nof their escaping, that they were once resolving to kill them all,\nbelieving they were under an absolute necessity to do so for their own\npreservation.  However, the chief of the Spaniards would not consent to\nit, but ordered, for the present, that they should be sent out of the way\nto my old cave in the valley, and be kept there, with two Spaniards to\nguard them, and have food for their subsistence, which was done; and they\nwere bound there hand and foot for that night.\nWhen the Spaniards came, the two Englishmen were so encouraged, that they\ncould not satisfy themselves to stay any longer there; but taking five of\nthe Spaniards, and themselves, with four muskets and a pistol among them,\nand two stout quarter-staves, away they went in quest of the savages.  And\nfirst they came to the tree where the men lay that had been killed; but\nit was easy to see that some more of the savages had been there, for they\nhad attempted to carry their dead men away, and had dragged two of them a\ngood way, but had given it over.  From thence they advanced to the first\nrising ground, where they had stood and seen their camp destroyed, and\nwhere they had the mortification still to see some of the smoke; but\nneither could they here see any of the savages.  They then resolved,\nthough with all possible caution, to go forward towards their ruined\nplantation; but, a little before they came thither, coming in sight of\nthe sea-shore, they saw plainly the savages all embarked again in their\ncanoes, in order to be gone.  They seemed sorry at first that there was\nno way to come at them, to give them a parting blow; but, upon the whole,\nthey were very well satisfied to be rid of them.\nThe poor Englishmen being now twice ruined, and all their improvements\ndestroyed, the rest all agreed to come and help them to rebuild, and\nassist them with needful supplies.  Their three countrymen, who were not\nyet noted for having the least inclination to do any good, yet as soon as\nthey heard of it (for they, living remote eastward, knew nothing of the\nmatter till all was over), came and offered their help and assistance,\nand did, very friendly, work for several days to restore their habitation\nand make necessaries for them.  And thus in a little time they were set\nupon their legs again.\nAbout two days after this they had the farther satisfaction of seeing\nthree of the savages' canoes come driving on shore, and, at some distance\nfrom them, two drowned men, by which they had reason to believe that they\nhad met with a storm at sea, which had overset some of them; for it had\nblown very hard the night after they went off.  However, as some might\nmiscarry, so, on the other hand, enough of them escaped to inform the\nrest, as well of what they had done as of what had happened to them; and\nto whet them on to another enterprise of the same nature, which they, it\nseems, resolved to attempt, with sufficient force to carry all before\nthem; for except what the first man had told them of inhabitants, they\ncould say little of it of their own knowledge, for they never saw one\nman; and the fellow being killed that had affirmed it, they had no other\nwitness to confirm it to, them.\nCHAPTER V--A GREAT VICTORY\nIt was five or six months after this before they heard any more of the\nsavages, in which time our men were in hopes they had either forgot their\nformer bad luck, or given over hopes of better; when, on a sudden, they\nwere invaded with a most formidable fleet of no less than\neight-and-twenty canoes, full of savages, armed with bows and arrows,\ngreat clubs, wooden swords, and such like engines of war; and they\nbrought such numbers with them, that, in short, it put all our people\ninto the utmost consternation.\nAs they came on shore in the evening, and at the easternmost side of the\nisland, our men had that night to consult and consider what to do.  In\nthe first place, knowing that their being entirely concealed was their\nonly safety before and would be much more so now, while the number of\ntheir enemies would be so great, they resolved, first of all, to take\ndown the huts which were built for the two Englishmen, and drive away\ntheir goats to the old cave; because they supposed the savages would go\ndirectly thither, as soon as it was day, to play the old game over again,\nthough they did not now land within two leagues of it.  In the next\nplace, they drove away all the flocks of goats they had at the old bower,\nas I called it, which belonged to the Spaniards; and, in short, left as\nlittle appearance of inhabitants anywhere as was possible; and the next\nmorning early they posted themselves, with all their force, at the\nplantation of the two men, to wait for their coming.  As they guessed, so\nit happened: these new invaders, leaving their canoes at the east end of\nthe island, came ranging along the shore, directly towards the place, to\nthe number of two hundred and fifty, as near as our men could judge.  Our\narmy was but small indeed; but, that which was worse, they had not arms\nfor all their number.  The whole account, it seems, stood thus: first, as\nto men, seventeen Spaniards, five Englishmen, old Friday, the three\nslaves taken with the women, who proved very faithful, and three other\nslaves, who lived with the Spaniards.  To arm these, they had eleven\nmuskets, five pistols, three fowling-pieces, five muskets or\nfowling-pieces which were taken by me from the mutinous seamen whom I\nreduced, two swords, and three old halberds.\nTo their slaves they did not give either musket or fusee; but they had\neach a halberd, or a long staff, like a quarter-staff, with a great spike\nof iron fastened into each end of it, and by his side a hatchet; also\nevery one of our men had a hatchet.  Two of the women could not be\nprevailed upon but they would come into the fight, and they had bows and\narrows, which the Spaniards had taken from the savages when the first\naction happened, which I have spoken of, where the Indians fought with\none another; and the women had hatchets too.\nThe chief Spaniard, whom I described so often, commanded the whole; and\nWill Atkins, who, though a dreadful fellow for wickedness, was a most\ndaring, bold fellow, commanded under him.  The savages came forward like\nlions; and our men, which was the worst of their fate, had no advantage\nin their situation; only that Will Atkins, who now proved a most useful\nfellow, with six men, was planted just behind a small thicket of bushes\nas an advanced guard, with orders to let the first of them pass by and\nthen fire into the middle of them, and as soon as he had fired, to make\nhis retreat as nimbly as he could round a part of the wood, and so come\nin behind the Spaniards, where they stood, having a thicket of trees\nbefore them.\nWhen the savages came on, they ran straggling about every way in heaps,\nout of all manner of order, and Will Atkins let about fifty of them pass\nby him; then seeing the rest come in a very thick throng, he orders three\nof his men to fire, having loaded their muskets with six or seven bullets\napiece, about as big as large pistol-bullets.  How many they killed or\nwounded they knew not, but the consternation and surprise was\ninexpressible among the savages; they were frightened to the last degree\nto hear such a dreadful noise, and see their men killed, and others hurt,\nbut see nobody that did it; when, in the middle of their fright, Will\nAtkins and his other three let fly again among the thickest of them; and\nin less than a minute the first three, being loaded again, gave them a\nthird volley.\nHad Will Atkins and his men retired immediately, as soon as they had\nfired, as they were ordered to do, or had the rest of the body been at\nhand to have poured in their shot continually, the savages had been\neffectually routed; for the terror that was among them came principally\nfrom this, that they were killed by the gods with thunder and lightning,\nand could see nobody that hurt them.  But Will Atkins, staying to load\nagain, discovered the cheat: some of the savages who were at a distance\nspying them, came upon them behind; and though Atkins and his men fired\nat them also, two or three times, and killed above twenty, retiring as\nfast as they could, yet they wounded Atkins himself, and killed one of\nhis fellow-Englishmen with their arrows, as they did afterwards one\nSpaniard, and one of the Indian slaves who came with the women.  This\nslave was a most gallant fellow, and fought most desperately, killing\nfive of them with his own hand, having no weapon but one of the armed\nstaves and a hatchet.\nOur men being thus hard laid at, Atkins wounded, and two other men\nkilled, retreated to a rising ground in the wood; and the Spaniards,\nafter firing three volleys upon them, retreated also; for their number\nwas so great, and they were so desperate, that though above fifty of them\nwere killed, and more than as many wounded, yet they came on in the teeth\nof our men, fearless of danger, and shot their arrows like a cloud; and\nit was observed that their wounded men, who were not quite disabled, were\nmade outrageous by their wounds, and fought like madmen.\nWhen our men retreated, they left the Spaniard and the Englishman that\nwere killed behind them: and the savages, when they came up to them,\nkilled them over again in a wretched manner, breaking their arms, legs,\nand heads, with their clubs and wooden swords, like true savages; but\nfinding our men were gone, they did not seem inclined to pursue them, but\ndrew themselves up in a ring, which is, it seems, their custom, and\nshouted twice, in token of their victory; after which, they had the\nmortification to see several of their wounded men fall, dying with the\nmere loss of blood.\nThe Spaniard governor having drawn his little body up together upon a\nrising ground, Atkins, though he was wounded, would have had them march\nand charge again all together at once: but the Spaniard replied,\n\"Seignior Atkins, you see how their wounded men fight; let them alone\ntill morning; all the wounded men will be stiff and sore with their\nwounds, and faint with the loss of blood; and so we shall have the fewer\nto engage.\"  This advice was good: but Will Atkins replied merrily, \"That\nis true, seignior, and so shall I too; and that is the reason I would go\non while I am warm.\"  \"Well, Seignior Atkins,\" says the Spaniard, \"you\nhave behaved gallantly, and done your part; we will fight for you if you\ncannot come on; but I think it best to stay till morning:\" so they\nwaited.\nBut as it was a clear moonlight night, and they found the savages in\ngreat disorder about their dead and wounded men, and a great noise and\nhurry among them where they lay, they afterwards resolved to fall upon\nthem in the night, especially if they could come to give them but one\nvolley before they were discovered, which they had a fair opportunity to\ndo; for one of the Englishmen in whose quarter it was where the fight\nbegan, led them round between the woods and the seaside westward, and\nthen turning short south, they came so near where the thickest of them\nlay, that before they were seen or heard eight of them fired in among\nthem, and did dreadful execution upon them; in half a minute more eight\nothers fired after them, pouring in their small shot in such a quantity\nthat abundance were killed and wounded; and all this while they were not\nable to see who hurt them, or which way to fly.\nThe Spaniards charged again with the utmost expedition, and then divided\nthemselves into three bodies, and resolved to fall in among them all\ntogether.  They had in each body eight persons, that is to say, twenty-\ntwo men and the two women, who, by the way, fought desperately.  They\ndivided the firearms equally in each party, as well as the halberds and\nstaves.  They would have had the women kept back, but they said they were\nresolved to die with their husbands.  Having thus formed their little\narmy, they marched out from among the trees, and came up to the teeth of\nthe enemy, shouting and hallooing as loud as they could; the savages\nstood all together, but were in the utmost confusion, hearing the noise\nof our men shouting from three quarters together.  They would have fought\nif they had seen us; for as soon as we came near enough to be seen, some\narrows were shot, and poor old Friday was wounded, though not\ndangerously.  But our men gave them no time, but running up to them,\nfired among them three ways, and then fell in with the butt-ends of their\nmuskets, their swords, armed staves, and hatchets, and laid about them so\nwell that, in a word, they set up a dismal screaming and howling, flying\nto save their lives which way soever they could.\nOur men were tired with the execution, and killed or mortally wounded in\nthe two fights about one hundred and eighty of them; the rest, being\nfrightened out of their wits, scoured through the woods and over the\nhills, with all the speed that fear and nimble feet could help them to;\nand as we did not trouble ourselves much to pursue them, they got all\ntogether to the seaside, where they landed, and where their canoes lay.\nBut their disaster was not at an end yet; for it blew a terrible storm of\nwind that evening from the sea, so that it was impossible for them to go\noff; nay, the storm continuing all night, when the tide came up their\ncanoes were most of them driven by the surge of the sea so high upon the\nshore that it required infinite toil to get them off; and some of them\nwere even dashed to pieces against the beach.  Our men, though glad of\ntheir victory, yet got little rest that night; but having refreshed\nthemselves as well as they could, they resolved to march to that part of\nthe island where the savages were fled, and see what posture they were\nin.  This necessarily led them over the place where the fight had been,\nand where they found several of the poor creatures not quite dead, and\nyet past recovering life; a sight disagreeable enough to generous minds,\nfor a truly great man though obliged by the law of battle to destroy his\nenemy, takes no delight in his misery.  However, there was no need to\ngive any orders in this case; for their own savages, who were their\nservants, despatched these poor creatures with their hatchets.\nAt length they came in view of the place where the more miserable remains\nof the savages' army lay, where there appeared about a hundred still;\ntheir posture was generally sitting upon the ground, with their knees up\ntowards their mouth, and the head put between the two hands, leaning down\nupon the knees.  When our men came within two musket-shots of them, the\nSpaniard governor ordered two muskets to be fired without ball, to alarm\nthem; this he did, that by their countenance he might know what to\nexpect, whether they were still in heart to fight, or were so heartily\nbeaten as to be discouraged, and so he might manage accordingly.  This\nstratagem took: for as soon as the savages heard the first gun, and saw\nthe flash of the second, they started up upon their feet in the greatest\nconsternation imaginable; and as our men advanced swiftly towards them,\nthey all ran screaming and yelling away, with a kind of howling noise,\nwhich our men did not understand, and had never heard before; and thus\nthey ran up the hills into the country.\nAt first our men had much rather the weather had been calm, and they had\nall gone away to sea: but they did not then consider that this might\nprobably have been the occasion of their coming again in such multitudes\nas not to be resisted, or, at least, to come so many and so often as\nwould quite desolate the island, and starve them.  Will Atkins,\ntherefore, who notwithstanding his wound kept always with them, proved\nthe best counsellor in this case: his advice was, to take the advantage\nthat offered, and step in between them and their boats, and so deprive\nthem of the capacity of ever returning any more to plague the island.\nThey consulted long about this; and some were against it for fear of\nmaking the wretches fly to the woods and live there desperate, and so\nthey should have them to hunt like wild beasts, be afraid to stir out\nabout their business, and have their plantations continually rifled, all\ntheir tame goats destroyed, and, in short, be reduced to a life of\ncontinual distress.\nWill Atkins told them they had better have to do with a hundred men than\nwith a hundred nations; that, as they must destroy their boats, so they\nmust destroy the men, or be all of them destroyed themselves.  In a word,\nhe showed them the necessity of it so plainly that they all came into it;\nso they went to work immediately with the boats, and getting some dry\nwood together from a dead tree, they tried to set some of them on fire,\nbut they were so wet that they would not burn; however, the fire so\nburned the upper part that it soon made them unfit for use at sea.\nWhen the Indians saw what they were about, some of them came running out\nof the woods, and coming as near as they could to our men, kneeled down\nand cried, \"Oa, Oa, Waramokoa,\" and some other words of their language,\nwhich none of the others understood anything of; but as they made pitiful\ngestures and strange noises, it was easy to understand they begged to\nhave their boats spared, and that they would be gone, and never come\nthere again.  But our men were now satisfied that they had no way to\npreserve themselves, or to save their colony, but effectually to prevent\nany of these people from ever going home again; depending upon this, that\nif even so much as one of them got back into their country to tell the\nstory, the colony was undone; so that, letting them know that they should\nnot have any mercy, they fell to work with their canoes, and destroyed\nevery one that the storm had not destroyed before; at the sight of which,\nthe savages raised a hideous cry in the woods, which our people heard\nplain enough, after which they ran about the island like distracted men,\nso that, in a word, our men did not really know what at first to do with\nthem.  Nor did the Spaniards, with all their prudence, consider that\nwhile they made those people thus desperate, they ought to have kept a\ngood guard at the same time upon their plantations; for though it is true\nthey had driven away their cattle, and the Indians did not find out their\nmain retreat, I mean my old castle at the hill, nor the cave in the\nvalley, yet they found out my plantation at the bower, and pulled it all\nto pieces, and all the fences and planting about it; trod all the corn\nunder foot, tore up the vines and grapes, being just then almost ripe,\nand did our men inestimable damage, though to themselves not one\nfarthing's worth of service.\nThough our men were able to fight them upon all occasions, yet they were\nin no condition to pursue them, or hunt them up and down; for as they\nwere too nimble of foot for our people when they found them single, so\nour men durst not go abroad single, for fear of being surrounded with\ntheir numbers.  The best was they had no weapons; for though they had\nbows, they had no arrows left, nor any materials to make any; nor had\nthey any edge-tool among them.  The extremity and distress they were\nreduced to was great, and indeed deplorable; but, at the same time, our\nmen were also brought to very bad circumstances by them, for though their\nretreats were preserved, yet their provision was destroyed, and their\nharvest spoiled, and what to do, or which way to turn themselves, they\nknew not.  The only refuge they had now was the stock of cattle they had\nin the valley by the cave, and some little corn which grew there, and the\nplantation of the three Englishmen.  Will Atkins and his comrades were\nnow reduced to two; one of them being killed by an arrow, which struck\nhim on the side of his head, just under the temple, so that he never\nspoke more; and it was very remarkable that this was the same barbarous\nfellow that cut the poor savage slave with his hatchet, and who\nafterwards intended to have murdered the Spaniards.\nI looked upon their case to have been worse at this time than mine was at\nany time, after I first discovered the grains of barley and rice, and got\ninto the manner of planting and raising my corn, and my tame cattle; for\nnow they had, as I may say, a hundred wolves upon the island, which would\ndevour everything they could come at, yet could be hardly come at\nthemselves.\nWhen they saw what their circumstances were, the first thing they\nconcluded was, that they would, if possible, drive the savages up to the\nfarther part of the island, south-west, that if any more came on shore\nthey might not find one another; then, that they would daily hunt and\nharass them, and kill as many of them as they could come at, till they\nhad reduced their number; and if they could at last tame them, and bring\nthem to anything, they would give them corn, and teach them how to plant,\nand live upon their daily labour.  In order to do this, they so followed\nthem, and so terrified them with their guns, that in a few days, if any\nof them fired a gun at an Indian, if he did not hit him, yet he would\nfall down for fear.  So dreadfully frightened were they that they kept\nout of sight farther and farther; till at last our men followed them, and\nalmost every day killing or wounding some of them, they kept up in the\nwoods or hollow places so much, that it reduced them to the utmost misery\nfor want of food; and many were afterwards found dead in the woods,\nwithout any hurt, absolutely starved to death.\nWhen our men found this, it made their hearts relent, and pity moved\nthem, especially the generous-minded Spaniard governor; and he proposed,\nif possible, to take one of them alive and bring him to understand what\nthey meant, so far as to be able to act as interpreter, and go among them\nand see if they might be brought to some conditions that might be\ndepended upon, to save their lives and do us no harm.\nIt was some while before any of them could be taken; but being weak and\nhalf-starved, one of them was at last surprised and made a prisoner.  He\nwas sullen at first, and would neither eat nor drink; but finding himself\nkindly used, and victuals given to him, and no violence offered him, he\nat last grew tractable, and came to himself.  They often brought old\nFriday to talk to him, who always told him how kind the others would be\nto them all; that they would not only save their lives, but give them\npart of the island to live in, provided they would give satisfaction that\nthey would keep in their own bounds, and not come beyond it to injure or\nprejudice others; and that they should have corn given them to plant and\nmake it grow for their bread, and some bread given them for their present\nsubsistence; and old Friday bade the fellow go and talk with the rest of\nhis countrymen, and see what they said to it; assuring them that, if they\ndid not agree immediately, they should be all destroyed.\nThe poor wretches, thoroughly humbled, and reduced in number to about\nthirty-seven, closed with the proposal at the first offer, and begged to\nhave some food given them; upon which twelve Spaniards and two\nEnglishmen, well armed, with three Indian slaves and old Friday, marched\nto the place where they were.  The three Indian slaves carried them a\nlarge quantity of bread, some rice boiled up to cakes and dried in the\nsun, and three live goats; and they were ordered to go to the side of a\nhill, where they sat down, ate their provisions very thankfully, and were\nthe most faithful fellows to their words that could be thought of; for,\nexcept when they came to beg victuals and directions, they never came out\nof their bounds; and there they lived when I came to the island and I\nwent to see them.  They had taught them both to plant corn, make bread,\nbreed tame goats, and milk them: they wanted nothing but wives in order\nfor them soon to become a nation.  They were confined to a neck of land,\nsurrounded with high rocks behind them, and lying plain towards the sea\nbefore them, on the south-east corner of the island.  They had land\nenough, and it was very good and fruitful; about a mile and a half broad,\nand three or four miles in length.  Our men taught them to make wooden\nspades, such as I made for myself, and gave among them twelve hatchets\nand three or four knives; and there they lived, the most subjected,\ninnocent creatures that ever were heard of.\nAfter this the colony enjoyed a perfect tranquillity with respect to the\nsavages, till I came to revisit them, which was about two years after;\nnot but that, now and then, some canoes of savages came on shore for\ntheir triumphal, unnatural feasts; but as they were of several nations,\nand perhaps had never heard of those that came before, or the reason of\nit, they did not make any search or inquiry after their countrymen; and\nif they had, it would have been very hard to have found them out.\nThus, I think, I have given a full account of all that happened to them\ntill my return, at least that was worth notice.  The Indians were\nwonderfully civilised by them, and they frequently went among them; but\nthey forbid, on pain of death, any one of the Indians coming to them,\nbecause they would not have their settlement betrayed again.  One thing\nwas very remarkable, viz. that they taught the savages to make wicker-\nwork, or baskets, but they soon outdid their masters: for they made\nabundance of ingenious things in wicker-work, particularly baskets,\nsieves, bird-cages, cupboards, &c.; as also chairs, stools, beds,\ncouches, being very ingenious at such work when they were once put in the\nway of it.\nMy coming was a particular relief to these people, because we furnished\nthem with knives, scissors, spades, shovels, pick-axes, and all things of\nthat kind which they could want.  With the help of those tools they were\nso very handy that they came at last to build up their huts or houses\nvery handsomely, raddling or working it up like basket-work all the way\nround.  This piece of ingenuity, although it looked very odd, was an\nexceeding good fence, as well against heat as against all sorts of\nvermin; and our men were so taken with it that they got the Indians to\ncome and do the like for them; so that when I came to see the two\nEnglishmen's colonies, they looked at a distance as if they all lived\nlike bees in a hive.\nAs for Will Atkins, who was now become a very industrious, useful, and\nsober fellow, he had made himself such a tent of basket-work as I believe\nwas never seen; it was one hundred and twenty paces round on the outside,\nas I measured by my steps; the walls were as close worked as a basket, in\npanels or squares of thirty-two in number, and very strong, standing\nabout seven feet high; in the middle was another not above twenty-two\npaces round, but built stronger, being octagon in its form, and in the\neight corners stood eight very strong posts; round the top of which he\nlaid strong pieces, knit together with wooden pins, from which he raised\na pyramid for a handsome roof of eight rafters, joined together very\nwell, though he had no nails, and only a few iron spikes, which he made\nhimself, too, out of the old iron that I had left there.  Indeed, this\nfellow showed abundance of ingenuity in several things which he had no\nknowledge of: he made him a forge, with a pair of wooden bellows to blow\nthe fire; he made himself charcoal for his work; and he formed out of the\niron crows a middling good anvil to hammer upon: in this manner he made\nmany things, but especially hooks, staples, and spikes, bolts and hinges.\nBut to return to the house: after he had pitched the roof of his\ninnermost tent, he worked it up between the rafters with basket-work, so\nfirm, and thatched that over again so ingeniously with rice-straw, and\nover that a large leaf of a tree, which covered the top, that his house\nwas as dry as if it had been tiled or slated.  He owned, indeed, that the\nsavages had made the basket-work for him.  The outer circuit was covered\nas a lean-to all round this inner apartment, and long rafters lay from\nthe thirty-two angles to the top posts of the inner house, being about\ntwenty feet distant, so that there was a space like a walk within the\nouter wicker-wall, and without the inner, near twenty feet wide.\nThe inner place he partitioned off with the same wickerwork, but much\nfairer, and divided into six apartments, so that he had six rooms on a\nfloor, and out of every one of these there was a door: first into the\nentry, or coming into the main tent, another door into the main tent, and\nanother door into the space or walk that was round it; so that walk was\nalso divided into six equal parts, which served not only for a retreat,\nbut to store up any necessaries which the family had occasion for.  These\nsix spaces not taking up the whole circumference, what other apartments\nthe outer circle had were thus ordered: As soon as you were in at the\ndoor of the outer circle you had a short passage straight before you to\nthe door of the inner house; but on either side was a wicker partition\nand a door in it, by which you went first into a large room or\nstorehouse, twenty feet wide and about thirty feet long, and through that\ninto another not quite so long; so that in the outer circle were ten\nhandsome rooms, six of which were only to be come at through the\napartments of the inner tent, and served as closets or retiring rooms to\nthe respective chambers of the inner circle; and four large warehouses,\nor barns, or what you please to call them, which went through one\nanother, two on either hand of the passage, that led through the outer\ndoor to the inner tent.  Such a piece of basket-work, I believe, was\nnever seen in the world, nor a house or tent so neatly contrived, much\nless so built.  In this great bee-hive lived the three families, that is\nto say, Will Atkins and his companion; the third was killed, but his wife\nremained with three children, and the other two were not at all backward\nto give the widow her full share of everything, I mean as to their corn,\nmilk, grapes, &c., and when they killed a kid, or found a turtle on the\nshore; so that they all lived well enough; though it was true they were\nnot so industrious as the other two, as has been observed already.\nOne thing, however, cannot be omitted, viz. that as for religion, I do\nnot know that there was anything of that kind among them; they often,\nindeed, put one another in mind that there was a God, by the very common\nmethod of seamen, swearing by His name: nor were their poor ignorant\nsavage wives much better for having been married to Christians, as we\nmust call them; for as they knew very little of God themselves, so they\nwere utterly incapable of entering into any discourse with their wives\nabout a God, or to talk anything to them concerning religion.\nThe utmost of all the improvement which I can say the wives had made from\nthem was, that they had taught them to speak English pretty well; and\nmost of their children, who were near twenty in all, were taught to speak\nEnglish too, from their first learning to speak, though they at first\nspoke it in a very broken manner, like their mothers.  None of these\nchildren were above six years old when I came thither, for it was not\nmuch above seven years since they had fetched these five savage ladies\nover; they had all children, more or less: the mothers were all a good\nsort of well-governed, quiet, laborious women, modest and decent, helpful\nto one another, mighty observant, and subject to their masters (I cannot\ncall them husbands), and lacked nothing but to be well instructed in the\nChristian religion, and to be legally married; both of which were happily\nbrought about afterwards by my means, or at least in consequence of my\ncoming among them.\nCHAPTER VI--THE FRENCH CLERGYMAN'S COUNSEL\nHaving thus given an account of the colony in general, and pretty much of\nmy runagate Englishmen, I must say something of the Spaniards, who were\nthe main body of the family, and in whose story there are some incidents\nalso remarkable enough.\nI had a great many discourses with them about their circumstances when\nthey were among the savages.  They told me readily that they had no\ninstances to give of their application or ingenuity in that country; that\nthey were a poor, miserable, dejected handful of people; that even if\nmeans had been put into their hands, yet they had so abandoned themselves\nto despair, and were so sunk under the weight of their misfortune, that\nthey thought of nothing but starving.  One of them, a grave and sensible\nman, told me he was convinced they were in the wrong; that it was not the\npart of wise men to give themselves up to their misery, but always to\ntake hold of the helps which reason offered, as well for present support\nas for future deliverance: he told me that grief was the most senseless,\ninsignificant passion in the world, for that it regarded only things\npast, which were generally impossible to be recalled or to be remedied,\nbut had no views of things to come, and had no share in anything that\nlooked like deliverance, but rather added to the affliction than proposed\na remedy; and upon this he repeated a Spanish proverb, which, though I\ncannot repeat in the same words that he spoke it in, yet I remember I\nmade it into an English proverb of my own, thus:--\n   \"In trouble to be troubled,\n   Is to have your trouble doubled.\"\nHe then ran on in remarks upon all the little improvements I had made in\nmy solitude: my unwearied application, as he called it; and how I had\nmade a condition, which in its circumstances was at first much worse than\ntheirs, a thousand times more happy than theirs was, even now when they\nwere all together.  He told me it was remarkable that Englishmen had a\ngreater presence of mind in their distress than any people that ever he\nmet with; that their unhappy nation and the Portuguese were the worst men\nin the world to struggle with misfortunes; for that their first step in\ndangers, after the common efforts were over, was to despair, lie down\nunder it, and die, without rousing their thoughts up to proper remedies\nfor escape.\nI told him their case and mine differed exceedingly; that they were cast\nupon the shore without necessaries, without supply of food, or present\nsustenance till they could provide for it; that, it was true, I had this\nfurther disadvantage and discomfort, that I was alone; but then the\nsupplies I had providentially thrown into my hands, by the unexpected\ndriving of the ship on the shore, was such a help as would have\nencouraged any creature in the world to have applied himself as I had\ndone.  \"Seignior,\" says the Spaniard, \"had we poor Spaniards been in your\ncase, we should never have got half those things out of the ship, as you\ndid: nay,\" says he, \"we should never have found means to have got a raft\nto carry them, or to have got the raft on shore without boat or sail: and\nhow much less should we have done if any of us had been alone!\"  Well, I\ndesired him to abate his compliments, and go on with the history of their\ncoming on shore, where they landed.  He told me they unhappily landed at\na place where there were people without provisions; whereas, had they had\nthe common sense to put off to sea again, and gone to another island a\nlittle further, they had found provisions, though without people: there\nbeing an island that way, as they had been told, where there were\nprovisions, though no people--that is to say, that the Spaniards of\nTrinidad had frequently been there, and had filled the island with goats\nand hogs at several times, where they had bred in such multitudes, and\nwhere turtle and sea-fowls were in such plenty, that they could have been\nin no want of flesh, though they had found no bread; whereas, here they\nwere only sustained with a few roots and herbs, which they understood\nnot, and which had no substance in them, and which the inhabitants gave\nthem sparingly enough; and they could treat them no better, unless they\nwould turn cannibals and eat men's flesh.\nThey gave me an account how many ways they strove to civilise the savages\nthey were with, and to teach them rational customs in the ordinary way of\nliving, but in vain; and how they retorted upon them as unjust that they\nwho came there for assistance and support should attempt to set up for\ninstructors to those that gave them food; intimating, it seems, that none\nshould set up for the instructors of others but those who could live\nwithout them.  They gave me dismal accounts of the extremities they were\ndriven to; how sometimes they were many days without any food at all, the\nisland they were upon being inhabited by a sort of savages that lived\nmore indolent, and for that reason were less supplied with the\nnecessaries of life, than they had reason to believe others were in the\nsame part of the world; and yet they found that these savages were less\nravenous and voracious than those who had better supplies of food.  Also,\nthey added, they could not but see with what demonstrations of wisdom and\ngoodness the governing providence of God directs the events of things in\nthis world, which, they said, appeared in their circumstances: for if,\npressed by the hardships they were under, and the barrenness of the\ncountry where they were, they had searched after a better to live in,\nthey had then been out of the way of the relief that happened to them by\nmy means.\nThey then gave me an account how the savages whom they lived amongst\nexpected them to go out with them into their wars; and, it was true, that\nas they had firearms with them, had they not had the disaster to lose\ntheir ammunition, they could have been serviceable not only to their\nfriends, but have made themselves terrible both to friends and enemies;\nbut being without powder and shot, and yet in a condition that they could\nnot in reason decline to go out with their landlords to their wars; so\nwhen they came into the field of battle they were in a worse condition\nthan the savages themselves, for they had neither bows nor arrows, nor\ncould they use those the savages gave them.  So they could do nothing but\nstand still and be wounded with arrows, till they came up to the teeth of\nthe enemy; and then, indeed, the three halberds they had were of use to\nthem; and they would often drive a whole little army before them with\nthose halberds, and sharpened sticks put into the muzzles of their\nmuskets.  But for all this they were sometimes surrounded with\nmultitudes, and in great danger from their arrows, till at last they\nfound the way to make themselves large targets of wood, which they\ncovered with skins of wild beasts, whose names they knew not, and these\ncovered them from the arrows of the savages: that, notwithstanding these,\nthey were sometimes in great danger; and five of them were once knocked\ndown together with the clubs of the savages, which was the time when one\nof them was taken prisoner--that is to say, the Spaniard whom I relieved.\nAt first they thought he had been killed; but when they afterwards heard\nhe was taken prisoner, they were under the greatest grief imaginable, and\nwould willingly have all ventured their lives to have rescued him.\nThey told me that when they were so knocked down, the rest of their\ncompany rescued them, and stood over them fighting till they were come to\nthemselves, all but him whom they thought had been dead; and then they\nmade their way with their halberds and pieces, standing close together in\na line, through a body of above a thousand savages, beating down all that\ncame in their way, got the victory over their enemies, but to their great\nsorrow, because it was with the loss of their friend, whom the other\nparty finding alive, carried off with some others, as I gave an account\nbefore.  They described, most affectionately, how they were surprised\nwith joy at the return of their friend and companion in misery, who they\nthought had been devoured by wild beasts of the worst kind--wild men; and\nyet, how more and more they were surprised with the account he gave them\nof his errand, and that there was a Christian in any place near, much\nmore one that was able, and had humanity enough, to contribute to their\ndeliverance.\nThey described how they were astonished at the sight of the relief I sent\nthem, and at the appearance of loaves of bread--things they had not seen\nsince their coming to that miserable place; how often they crossed it and\nblessed it as bread sent from heaven; and what a reviving cordial it was\nto their spirits to taste it, as also the other things I had sent for\ntheir supply; and, after all, they would have told me something of the\njoy they were in at the sight of a boat and pilots, to carry them away to\nthe person and place from whence all these new comforts came.  But it was\nimpossible to express it by words, for their excessive joy naturally\ndriving them to unbecoming extravagances, they had no way to describe\nthem but by telling me they bordered upon lunacy, having no way to give\nvent to their passions suitable to the sense that was upon them; that in\nsome it worked one way and in some another; and that some of them,\nthrough a surprise of joy, would burst into tears, others be stark mad,\nand others immediately faint.  This discourse extremely affected me, and\ncalled to my mind Friday's ecstasy when he met his father, and the poor\npeople's ecstasy when I took them up at sea after their ship was on fire;\nthe joy of the mate of the ship when he found himself delivered in the\nplace where he expected to perish; and my own joy, when, after twenty-\neight years' captivity, I found a good ship ready to carry me to my own\ncountry.  All these things made me more sensible of the relation of these\npoor men, and more affected with it.\nHaving thus given a view of the state of things as I found them, I must\nrelate the heads of what I did for these people, and the condition in\nwhich I left them.  It was their opinion, and mine too, that they would\nbe troubled no more with the savages, or if they were, they would be able\nto cut them off, if they were twice as many as before; so they had no\nconcern about that.  Then I entered into a serious discourse with the\nSpaniard, whom I call governor, about their stay in the island; for as I\nwas not come to carry any of them off, so it would not be just to carry\noff some and leave others, who, perhaps, would be unwilling to stay if\ntheir strength was diminished.  On the other hand, I told them I came to\nestablish them there, not to remove them; and then I let them know that I\nhad brought with me relief of sundry kinds for them; that I had been at a\ngreat charge to supply them with all things necessary, as well for their\nconvenience as their defence; and that I had such and such particular\npersons with me, as well to increase and recruit their number, as by the\nparticular necessary employments which they were bred to, being\nartificers, to assist them in those things in which at present they were\nin want.\nThey were all together when I talked thus to them; and before I delivered\nto them the stores I had brought, I asked them, one by one, if they had\nentirely forgot and buried the first animosities that had been among\nthem, and would shake hands with one another, and engage in a strict\nfriendship and union of interest, that so there might be no more\nmisunderstandings and jealousies.\nWill Atkins, with abundance of frankness and good humour, said they had\nmet with affliction enough to make them all sober, and enemies enough to\nmake them all friends; that, for his part, he would live and die with\nthem, and was so far from designing anything against the Spaniards, that\nhe owned they had done nothing to him but what his own mad humour made\nnecessary, and what he would have done, and perhaps worse, in their case;\nand that he would ask them pardon, if I desired it, for the foolish and\nbrutish things he had done to them, and was very willing and desirous of\nliving in terms of entire friendship and union with them, and would do\nanything that lay in his power to convince them of it; and as for going\nto England, he cared not if he did not go thither these twenty years.\nThe Spaniards said they had, indeed, at first disarmed and excluded Will\nAtkins and his two countrymen for their ill conduct, as they had let me\nknow, and they appealed to me for the necessity they were under to do so;\nbut that Will Atkins had behaved himself so bravely in the great fight\nthey had with the savages, and on several occasions since, and had showed\nhimself so faithful to, and concerned for, the general interest of them\nall, that they had forgotten all that was past, and thought he merited as\nmuch to be trusted with arms and supplied with necessaries as any of\nthem; that they had testified their satisfaction in him by committing the\ncommand to him next to the governor himself; and as they had entire\nconfidence in him and all his countrymen, so they acknowledged they had\nmerited that confidence by all the methods that honest men could merit to\nbe valued and trusted; and they most heartily embraced the occasion of\ngiving me this assurance, that they would never have any interest\nseparate from one another.\nUpon these frank and open declarations of friendship, we appointed the\nnext day to dine all together; and, indeed, we made a splendid feast.  I\ncaused the ship's cook and his mate to come on shore and dress our\ndinner, and the old cook's mate we had on shore assisted.  We brought on\nshore six pieces of good beef and four pieces of pork, out of the ship's\nprovisions, with our punch-bowl and materials to fill it; and in\nparticular I gave them ten bottles of French claret, and ten bottles of\nEnglish beer; things that neither the Spaniards nor the English had\ntasted for many years, and which it may be supposed they were very glad\nof.  The Spaniards added to our feast five whole kids, which the cooks\nroasted; and three of them were sent, covered up close, on board the ship\nto the seamen, that they might feast on fresh meat from on shore, as we\ndid with their salt meat from on board.\nAfter this feast, at which we were very innocently merry, I brought my\ncargo of goods; wherein, that there might be no dispute about dividing, I\nshowed them that there was a sufficiency for them all, desiring that they\nmight all take an equal quantity, when made up, of the goods that were\nfor wearing.  As, first, I distributed linen sufficient to make every one\nof them four shirts, and, at the Spaniard's request, afterwards made them\nup six; these were exceeding comfortable to them, having been what they\nhad long since forgot the use of, or what it was to wear them.  I\nallotted the thin English stuffs, which I mentioned before, to make every\none a light coat, like a frock, which I judged fittest for the heat of\nthe season, cool and loose; and ordered that whenever they decayed, they\nshould make more, as they thought fit; the like for pumps, shoes,\nstockings, hats, &c.  I cannot express what pleasure sat upon the\ncountenances of all these poor men when they saw the care I had taken of\nthem, and how well I had furnished them.  They told me I was a father to\nthem; and that having such a correspondent as I was in so remote a part\nof the world, it would make them forget that they were left in a desolate\nplace; and they all voluntarily engaged to me not to leave the place\nwithout my consent.\nThen I presented to them the people I had brought with me, particularly\nthe tailor, the smith, and the two carpenters, all of them most necessary\npeople; but, above all, my general artificer, than whom they could not\nname anything that was more useful to them; and the tailor, to show his\nconcern for them, went to work immediately, and, with my leave, made them\nevery one a shirt, the first thing he did; and, what was still more, he\ntaught the women not only how to sew and stitch, and use the needle, but\nmade them assist to make the shirts for their husbands, and for all the\nrest.  As to the carpenters, I scarce need mention how useful they were;\nfor they took to pieces all my clumsy, unhandy things, and made clever\nconvenient tables, stools, bedsteads, cupboards, lockers, shelves, and\neverything they wanted of that kind.  But to let them see how nature made\nartificers at first, I carried the carpenters to see Will Atkins' basket-\nhouse, as I called it; and they both owned they never saw an instance of\nsuch natural ingenuity before, nor anything so regular and so handily\nbuilt, at least of its kind; and one of them, when he saw it, after\nmusing a good while, turning about to me, \"I am sure,\" says he, \"that man\nhas no need of us; you need do nothing but give him tools.\"\nThen I brought them out all my store of tools, and gave every man a\ndigging-spade, a shovel, and a rake, for we had no barrows or ploughs;\nand to every separate place a pickaxe, a crow, a broad axe, and a saw;\nalways appointing, that as often as any were broken or worn out, they\nshould be supplied without grudging out of the general stores that I left\nbehind.  Nails, staples, hinges, hammers, chisels, knives, scissors, and\nall sorts of ironwork, they had without reserve, as they required; for no\nman would take more than he wanted, and he must be a fool that would\nwaste or spoil them on any account whatever; and for the use of the smith\nI left two tons of unwrought iron for a supply.\nMy magazine of powder and arms which I brought them was such, even to\nprofusion, that they could not but rejoice at them; for now they could\nmarch as I used to do, with a musket upon each shoulder, if there was\noccasion; and were able to fight a thousand savages, if they had but some\nlittle advantages of situation, which also they could not miss, if they\nhad occasion.\nI carried on shore with me the young man whose mother was starved to\ndeath, and the maid also; she was a sober, well-educated, religious young\nwoman, and behaved so inoffensively that every one gave her a good word;\nshe had, indeed, an unhappy life with us, there being no woman in the\nship but herself, but she bore it with patience.  After a while, seeing\nthings so well ordered, and in so fine a way of thriving upon my island,\nand considering that they had neither business nor acquaintance in the\nEast Indies, or reason for taking so long a voyage, both of them came to\nme and desired I would give them leave to remain on the island, and be\nentered among my family, as they called it.  I agreed to this readily;\nand they had a little plot of ground allotted to them, where they had\nthree tents or houses set up, surrounded with a basket-work, palisadoed\nlike Atkins's, adjoining to his plantation.  Their tents were contrived\nso that they had each of them a room apart to lodge in, and a middle tent\nlike a great storehouse to lay their goods in, and to eat and to drink\nin.  And now the other two Englishmen removed their habitation to the\nsame place; and so the island was divided into three colonies, and no\nmore--viz. the Spaniards, with old Friday and the first servants, at my\nhabitation under the hill, which was, in a word, the capital city, and\nwhere they had so enlarged and extended their works, as well under as on\nthe outside of the hill, that they lived, though perfectly concealed, yet\nfull at large.  Never was there such a little city in a wood, and so hid,\nin any part of the world; for I verify believe that a thousand men might\nhave ranged the island a month, and, if they had not known there was such\na thing, and looked on purpose for it, they would not have found it.\nIndeed the trees stood so thick and so close, and grew so fast woven one\ninto another, that nothing but cutting them down first could discover the\nplace, except the only two narrow entrances where they went in and out\ncould be found, which was not very easy; one of them was close down at\nthe water's edge, on the side of the creek, and it was afterwards above\ntwo hundred yards to the place; and the other was up a ladder at twice,\nas I have already described it; and they had also a large wood, thickly\nplanted, on the top of the hill, containing above an acre, which grew\napace, and concealed the place from all discovery there, with only one\nnarrow place between two trees, not easily to be discovered, to enter on\nthat side.\nThe other colony was that of Will Atkins, where there were four families\nof Englishmen, I mean those I had left there, with their wives and\nchildren; three savages that were slaves, the widow and children of the\nEnglishman that was killed, the young man and the maid, and, by the way,\nwe made a wife of her before we went away.  There were besides the two\ncarpenters and the tailor, whom I brought with me for them: also the\nsmith, who was a very necessary man to them, especially as a gunsmith, to\ntake care of their arms; and my other man, whom I called\nJack-of-all-trades, who was in himself as good almost as twenty men; for\nhe was not only a very ingenious fellow, but a very merry fellow, and\nbefore I went away we married him to the honest maid that came with the\nyouth in the ship I mentioned before.\nAnd now I speak of marrying, it brings me naturally to say something of\nthe French ecclesiastic that I had brought with me out of the ship's crew\nwhom I took up at sea.  It is true this man was a Roman, and perhaps it\nmay give offence to some hereafter if I leave anything extraordinary upon\nrecord of a man whom, before I begin, I must (to set him out in just\ncolours) represent in terms very much to his disadvantage, in the account\nof Protestants; as, first, that he was a Papist; secondly, a Popish\npriest; and thirdly, a French Popish priest.  But justice demands of me\nto give him a due character; and I must say, he was a grave, sober,\npious, and most religious person; exact in his life, extensive in his\ncharity, and exemplary in almost everything he did.  What then can any\none say against being very sensible of the value of such a man,\nnotwithstanding his profession? though it may be my opinion perhaps, as\nwell as the opinion of others who shall read this, that he was mistaken.\nThe first hour that I began to converse with him after he had agreed to\ngo with me to the East Indies, I found reason to delight exceedingly in\nhis conversation; and he first began with me about religion in the most\nobliging manner imaginable.  \"Sir,\" says he, \"you have not only under\nGod\" (and at that he crossed his breast) \"saved my life, but you have\nadmitted me to go this voyage in your ship, and by your obliging civility\nhave taken me into your family, giving me an opportunity of free\nconversation.  Now, sir, you see by my habit what my profession is, and I\nguess by your nation what yours is; I may think it is my duty, and\ndoubtless it is so, to use my utmost endeavours, on all occasions, to\nbring all the souls I can to the knowledge of the truth, and to embrace\nthe Catholic doctrine; but as I am here under your permission, and in\nyour family, I am bound, in justice to your kindness as well as in\ndecency and good manners, to be under your government; and therefore I\nshall not, without your leave, enter into any debate on the points of\nreligion in which we may not agree, further than you shall give me\nleave.\"\nI told him his carriage was so modest that I could not but acknowledge\nit; that it was true we were such people as they call heretics, but that\nhe was not the first Catholic I had conversed with without falling into\ninconveniences, or carrying the questions to any height in debate; that\nhe should not find himself the worse used for being of a different\nopinion from us, and if we did not converse without any dislike on either\nside, it should be his fault, not ours.\nHe replied that he thought all our conversation might be easily separated\nfrom disputes; that it was not his business to cap principles with every\nman he conversed with; and that he rather desired me to converse with him\nas a gentleman than as a religionist; and that, if I would give him leave\nat any time to discourse upon religious subjects, he would readily comply\nwith it, and that he did not doubt but I would allow him also to defend\nhis own opinions as well as he could; but that without my leave he would\nnot break in upon me with any such thing.  He told me further, that he\nwould not cease to do all that became him, in his office as a priest, as\nwell as a private Christian, to procure the good of the ship, and the\nsafety of all that was in her; and though, perhaps, we would not join\nwith him, and he could not pray with us, he hoped he might pray for us,\nwhich he would do upon all occasions.  In this manner we conversed; and\nas he was of the most obliging, gentlemanlike behaviour, so he was, if I\nmay be allowed to say so, a man of good sense, and, as I believe, of\ngreat learning.\nHe gave me a most diverting account of his life, and of the many\nextraordinary events of it; of many adventures which had befallen him in\nthe few years that he had been abroad in the world; and particularly, it\nwas very remarkable, that in the voyage he was now engaged in he had had\nthe misfortune to be five times shipped and unshipped, and never to go to\nthe place whither any of the ships he was in were at first designed.  That\nhis first intent was to have gone to Martinico, and that he went on board\na ship bound thither at St. Malo; but being forced into Lisbon by bad\nweather, the ship received some damage by running aground in the mouth of\nthe river Tagus, and was obliged to unload her cargo there; but finding a\nPortuguese ship there bound for the Madeiras, and ready to sail, and\nsupposing he should meet with a ship there bound to Martinico, he went on\nboard, in order to sail to the Madeiras; but the master of the Portuguese\nship being but an indifferent mariner, had been out of his reckoning, and\nthey drove to Fayal; where, however, he happened to find a very good\nmarket for his cargo, which was corn, and therefore resolved not to go to\nthe Madeiras, but to load salt at the Isle of May, and to go away to\nNewfoundland.  He had no remedy in this exigence but to go with the ship,\nand had a pretty good voyage as far as the Banks (so they call the place\nwhere they catch the fish), where, meeting with a French ship bound from\nFrance to Quebec, and from thence to Martinico, to carry provisions, he\nthought he should have an opportunity to complete his first design, but\nwhen he came to Quebec, the master of the ship died, and the vessel\nproceeded no further; so the next voyage he shipped himself for France,\nin the ship that was burned when we took them up at sea, and then shipped\nwith us for the East Indies, as I have already said.  Thus he had been\ndisappointed in five voyages; all, as I may call it, in one voyage,\nbesides what I shall have occasion to mention further of him.\nBut I shall not make digression into other men's stories which have no\nrelation to my own; so I return to what concerns our affair in the\nisland.  He came to me one morning (for he lodged among us all the while\nwe were upon the island), and it happened to be just when I was going to\nvisit the Englishmen's colony, at the furthest part of the island; I say,\nhe came to me, and told me, with a very grave countenance, that he had\nfor two or three days desired an opportunity of some discourse with me,\nwhich he hoped would not be displeasing to me, because he thought it\nmight in some measure correspond with my general design, which was the\nprosperity of my new colony, and perhaps might put it, at least more than\nhe yet thought it was, in the way of God's blessing.\nI looked a little surprised at the last of his discourse, and turning a\nlittle short, \"How, sir,\" said I, \"can it be said that we are not in the\nway of God's blessing, after such visible assistances and deliverances as\nwe have seen here, and of which I have given you a large account?\"  \"If\nyou had pleased, sir,\" said he, with a world of modesty, and yet great\nreadiness, \"to have heard me, you would have found no room to have been\ndispleased, much less to think so hard of me, that I should suggest that\nyou have not had wonderful assistances and deliverances; and I hope, on\nyour behalf, that you are in the way of God's blessing, and your design\nis exceeding good, and will prosper.  But, sir, though it were more so\nthan is even possible to you, yet there may be some among you that are\nnot equally right in their actions: and you know that in the story of the\nchildren of Israel, one Achan in the camp removed God's blessing from\nthem, and turned His hand so against them, that six-and-thirty of them,\nthough not concerned in the crime, were the objects of divine vengeance,\nand bore the weight of that punishment.\"\nI was sensibly touched with this discourse, and told him his inference\nwas so just, and the whole design seemed so sincere, and was really so\nreligious in its own nature, that I was very sorry I had interrupted him,\nand begged him to go on; and, in the meantime, because it seemed that\nwhat we had both to say might take up some time, I told him I was going\nto the Englishmen's plantations, and asked him to go with me, and we\nmight discourse of it by the way.  He told me he would the more willingly\nwait on me thither, because there partly the thing was acted which he\ndesired to speak to me about; so we walked on, and I pressed him to be\nfree and plain with me in what he had to say.\n\"Why, then, sir,\" said he, \"be pleased to give me leave to lay down a few\npropositions, as the foundation of what I have to say, that we may not\ndiffer in the general principles, though we may be of some differing\nopinions in the practice of particulars.  First, sir, though we differ in\nsome of the doctrinal articles of religion (and it is very unhappy it is\nso, especially in the case before us, as I shall show afterwards), yet\nthere are some general principles in which we both agree--that there is a\nGod; and that this God having given us some stated general rules for our\nservice and obedience, we ought not willingly and knowingly to offend\nHim, either by neglecting to do what He has commanded, or by doing what\nHe has expressly forbidden.  And let our different religions be what they\nwill, this general principle is readily owned by us all, that the\nblessing of God does not ordinarily follow presumptuous sinning against\nHis command; and every good Christian will be affectionately concerned to\nprevent any that are under his care living in a total neglect of God and\nHis commands.  It is not your men being Protestants, whatever my opinion\nmay be of such, that discharges me from being concerned for their souls,\nand from endeavouring, if it lies before me, that they should live in as\nlittle distance from enmity with their Maker as possible, especially if\nyou give me leave to meddle so far in your circuit.\"\nI could not yet imagine what he aimed at, and told him I granted all he\nhad said, and thanked him that he would so far concern himself for us:\nand begged he would explain the particulars of what he had observed, that\nlike Joshua, to take his own parable, I might put away the accursed thing\nfrom us.\n\"Why, then, sir,\" says he, \"I will take the liberty you give me; and\nthere are three things, which, if I am right, must stand in the way of\nGod's blessing upon your endeavours here, and which I should rejoice, for\nyour sake and their own, to see removed.  And, sir, I promise myself that\nyou will fully agree with me in them all, as soon as I name them;\nespecially because I shall convince you, that every one of them may, with\ngreat ease, and very much to your satisfaction, be remedied.  First,\nsir,\" says he, \"you have here four Englishmen, who have fetched women\nfrom among the savages, and have taken them as their wives, and have had\nmany children by them all, and yet are not married to them after any\nstated legal manner, as the laws of God and man require.  To this, sir, I\nknow, you will object that there was no clergyman or priest of any kind\nto perform the ceremony; nor any pen and ink, or paper, to write down a\ncontract of marriage, and have it signed between them.  And I know also,\nsir, what the Spaniard governor has told you, I mean of the agreement\nthat he obliged them to make when they took those women, viz. that they\nshould choose them out by consent, and keep separately to them; which, by\nthe way, is nothing of a marriage, no agreement with the women as wives,\nbut only an agreement among themselves, to keep them from quarrelling.\nBut, sir, the essence of the sacrament of matrimony\" (so he called it,\nbeing a Roman) \"consists not only in the mutual consent of the parties to\ntake one another as man and wife, but in the formal and legal obligation\nthat there is in the contract to compel the man and woman, at all times,\nto own and acknowledge each other; obliging the man to abstain from all\nother women, to engage in no other contract while these subsist; and, on\nall occasions, as ability allows, to provide honestly for them and their\nchildren; and to oblige the women to the same or like conditions, on\ntheir side.  Now, sir,\" says he, \"these men may, when they please, or\nwhen occasion presents, abandon these women, disown their children, leave\nthem to perish, and take other women, and marry them while these are\nliving;\" and here he added, with some warmth, \"How, sir, is God honoured\nin this unlawful liberty?  And how shall a blessing succeed your\nendeavours in this place, however good in themselves, and however sincere\nin your design, while these men, who at present are your subjects, under\nyour absolute government and dominion, are allowed by you to live in open\nadultery?\"\nI confess I was struck with the thing itself, but much more with the\nconvincing arguments he supported it with; but I thought to have got off\nmy young priest by telling him that all that part was done when I was not\nthere: and that they had lived so many years with them now, that if it\nwas adultery, it was past remedy; nothing could be done in it now.\n\"Sir,\" says he, \"asking your pardon for such freedom, you are right in\nthis, that, it being done in your absence, you could not be charged with\nthat part of the crime; but, I beseech you, flatter not yourself that you\nare not, therefore, under an obligation to do your utmost now to put an\nend to it.  You should legally and effectually marry them; and as, sir,\nmy way of marrying may not be easy to reconcile them to, though it will\nbe effectual, even by your own laws, so your way may be as well before\nGod, and as valid among men.  I mean by a written contract signed by both\nman and woman, and by all the witnesses present, which all the laws of\nEurope would decree to be valid.\"\nI was amazed to see so much true piety, and so much sincerity of zeal,\nbesides the unusual impartiality in his discourse as to his own party or\nchurch, and such true warmth for preserving people that he had no\nknowledge of or relation to from transgressing the laws of God.  But\nrecollecting what he had said of marrying them by a written contract,\nwhich I knew he would stand to, I returned it back upon him, and told him\nI granted all that he had said to be just, and on his part very kind;\nthat I would discourse with the men upon the point now, when I came to\nthem; and I knew no reason why they should scruple to let him marry them\nall, which I knew well enough would be granted to be as authentic and\nvalid in England as if they were married by one of our own clergymen.\nI then pressed him to tell me what was the second complaint which he had\nto make, acknowledging that I was very much his debtor for the first, and\nthanking him heartily for it.  He told me he would use the same freedom\nand plainness in the second, and hoped I would take it as well; and this\nwas, that notwithstanding these English subjects of mine, as he called\nthem, had lived with these women almost seven years, had taught them to\nspeak English, and even to read it, and that they were, as he perceived,\nwomen of tolerable understanding, and capable of instruction, yet they\nhad not, to this hour, taught them anything of the Christian religion--no,\nnot so much as to know there was a God, or a worship, or in what manner\nGod was to be served, or that their own idolatry, and worshipping they\nknew not whom, was false and absurd.  This he said was an unaccountable\nneglect, and what God would certainly call them to account for, and\nperhaps at last take the work out of their hands.  He spoke this very\naffectionately and warmly.\n\"I am persuaded,\" says he, \"had those men lived in the savage country\nwhence their wives came, the savages would have taken more pains to have\nbrought them to be idolaters, and to worship the devil, than any of these\nmen, so far as I can see, have taken with them to teach the knowledge of\nthe true God.  Now, sir,\" said he, \"though I do not acknowledge your\nreligion, or you mine, yet we would be glad to see the devil's servants\nand the subjects of his kingdom taught to know religion; and that they\nmight, at least, hear of God and a Redeemer, and the resurrection, and of\na future state--things which we all believe; that they might, at least,\nbe so much nearer coming into the bosom of the true Church than they are\nnow in the public profession of idolatry and devil-worship.\"\nI could hold no longer: I took him in my arms and embraced him eagerly.\n\"How far,\" said I to him, \"have I been from understanding the most\nessential part of a Christian, viz. to love the interest of the Christian\nChurch, and the good of other men's souls!  I scarce have known what\nbelongs to the being a Christian.\"--\"Oh, sir! do not say so,\" replied he;\n\"this thing is not your fault.\"--\"No,\" said I; \"but why did I never lay\nit to heart as well as you?\"--\"It is not too late yet,\" said he; \"be not\ntoo forward to condemn yourself.\"--\"But what can be done now?\" said I:\n\"you see I am going away.\"--\"Will you give me leave to talk with these\npoor men about it?\"--\"Yes, with all my heart,\" said I: \"and oblige them\nto give heed to what you say too.\"--\"As to that,\" said he, \"we must leave\nthem to the mercy of Christ; but it is your business to assist them,\nencourage them, and instruct them; and if you give me leave, and God His\nblessing, I do not doubt but the poor ignorant souls shall be brought\nhome to the great circle of Christianity, if not into the particular\nfaith we all embrace, and that even while you stay here.\"  Upon this I\nsaid, \"I shall not only give you leave, but give you a thousand thanks\nfor it.\"\nI now pressed him for the third article in which we were to blame.  \"Why,\nreally,\" says he, \"it is of the same nature.  It is about your poor\nsavages, who are, as I may say, your conquered subjects.  It is a maxim,\nsir, that is or ought to be received among all Christians, of what church\nor pretended church soever, that the Christian knowledge ought to be\npropagated by all possible means and on all possible occasions.  It is on\nthis principle that our Church sends missionaries into Persia, India, and\nChina; and that our clergy, even of the superior sort, willingly engage\nin the most hazardous voyages, and the most dangerous residence amongst\nmurderers and barbarians, to teach them the knowledge of the true God,\nand to bring them over to embrace the Christian faith.  Now, sir, you\nhave such an opportunity here to have six or seven and thirty poor\nsavages brought over from a state of idolatry to the knowledge of God,\ntheir Maker and Redeemer, that I wonder how you can pass such an occasion\nof doing good, which is really worth the expense of a man's whole life.\"\nI was now struck dumb indeed, and had not one word to say.  I had here\nthe spirit of true Christian zeal for God and religion before me.  As for\nme, I had not so much as entertained a thought of this in my heart\nbefore, and I believe I should not have thought of it; for I looked upon\nthese savages as slaves, and people whom, had we not had any work for\nthem to do, we would have used as such, or would have been glad to have\ntransported them to any part of the world; for our business was to get\nrid of them, and we would all have been satisfied if they had been sent\nto any country, so they had never seen their own.  I was confounded at\nhis discourse, and knew not what answer to make him.\nHe looked earnestly at me, seeing my confusion.  \"Sir,\" says he, \"I shall\nbe very sorry if what I have said gives you any offence.\"--\"No, no,\" said\nI, \"I am offended with nobody but myself; but I am perfectly confounded,\nnot only to think that I should never take any notice of this before, but\nwith reflecting what notice I am able to take of it now.  You know, sir,\"\nsaid I, \"what circumstances I am in; I am bound to the East Indies in a\nship freighted by merchants, and to whom it would be an insufferable\npiece of injustice to detain their ship here, the men lying all this\nwhile at victuals and wages on the owners' account.  It is true, I agreed\nto be allowed twelve days here, and if I stay more, I must pay three\npounds sterling _per diem_ demurrage; nor can I stay upon demurrage above\neight days more, and I have been here thirteen already; so that I am\nperfectly unable to engage in this work unless I would suffer myself to\nbe left behind here again; in which case, if this single ship should\nmiscarry in any part of her voyage, I should be just in the same\ncondition that I was left in here at first, and from which I have been so\nwonderfully delivered.\"  He owned the case was very hard upon me as to my\nvoyage; but laid it home upon my conscience whether the blessing of\nsaving thirty-seven souls was not worth venturing all I had in the world\nfor.  I was not so sensible of that as he was.  I replied to him thus:\n\"Why, sir, it is a valuable thing, indeed, to be an instrument in God's\nhand to convert thirty-seven heathens to the knowledge of Christ: but as\nyou are an ecclesiastic, and are given over to the work, so it seems so\nnaturally to fall in the way of your profession; how is it, then, that\nyou do not rather offer yourself to undertake it than to press me to do\nit?\"\nUpon this he faced about just before me, as he walked along, and putting\nme to a full stop, made me a very low bow.  \"I most heartily thank God\nand you, sir,\" said he, \"for giving me so evident a call to so blessed a\nwork; and if you think yourself discharged from it, and desire me to\nundertake it, I will most readily do it, and think it a happy reward for\nall the hazards and difficulties of such a broken, disappointed voyage as\nI have met with, that I am dropped at last into so glorious a work.\"\nI discovered a kind of rapture in his face while he spoke this to me; his\neyes sparkled like fire; his face glowed, and his colour came and went;\nin a word, he was fired with the joy of being embarked in such a work.  I\npaused a considerable while before I could tell what to say to him; for I\nwas really surprised to find a man of such sincerity, and who seemed\npossessed of a zeal beyond the ordinary rate of men.  But after I had\nconsidered it a while, I asked him seriously if he was in earnest, and\nthat he would venture, on the single consideration of an attempt to\nconvert those poor people, to be locked up in an unplanted island for\nperhaps his life, and at last might not know whether he should be able to\ndo them good or not?  He turned short upon me, and asked me what I called\na venture?  \"Pray, sir,\" said he, \"what do you think I consented to go in\nyour ship to the East Indies for?\"--\"ay,\" said I, \"that I know not,\nunless it was to preach to the Indians.\"--\"Doubtless it was,\" said he;\n\"and do you think, if I can convert these thirty-seven men to the faith\nof Jesus Christ, it is not worth my time, though I should never be\nfetched off the island again?--nay, is it not infinitely of more worth to\nsave so many souls than my life is, or the life of twenty more of the\nsame profession?  Yes, sir,\" says he, \"I would give God thanks all my\ndays if I could be made the happy instrument of saving the souls of those\npoor men, though I were never to get my foot off this island or see my\nnative country any more.  But since you will honour me with putting me\ninto this work, for which I will pray for you all the days of my life, I\nhave one humble petition to you besides.\"--\"What is that?\" said I.--\"Why,\"\nsays he, \"it is, that you will leave your man Friday with me, to be my\ninterpreter to them, and to assist me; for without some help I cannot\nspeak to them, or they to me.\"\nI was sensibly touched at his requesting Friday, because I could not\nthink of parting with him, and that for many reasons: he had been the\ncompanion of my travels; he was not only faithful to me, but sincerely\naffectionate to the last degree; and I had resolved to do something\nconsiderable for him if he out-lived me, as it was probable he would.\nThen I knew that, as I had bred Friday up to be a Protestant, it would\nquite confound him to bring him to embrace another religion; and he would\nnever, while his eyes were open, believe that his old master was a\nheretic, and would be damned; and this might in the end ruin the poor\nfellow's principles, and so turn him back again to his first idolatry.\nHowever, a sudden thought relieved me in this strait, and it was this: I\ntold him I could not say that I was willing to part with Friday on any\naccount whatever, though a work that to him was of more value than his\nlife ought to be of much more value than the keeping or parting with a\nservant.  On the other hand, I was persuaded that Friday would by no\nmeans agree to part with me; and I could not force him to it without his\nconsent, without manifest injustice; because I had promised I would never\nsend him away, and he had promised and engaged that he would never leave\nme, unless I sent him away.\nHe seemed very much concerned at it, for he had no rational access to\nthese poor people, seeing he did not understand one word of their\nlanguage, nor they one of his.  To remove this difficulty, I told him\nFriday's father had learned Spanish, which I found he also understood,\nand he should serve him as an interpreter.  So he was much better\nsatisfied, and nothing could persuade him but he would stay and endeavour\nto convert them; but Providence gave another very happy turn to all this.\nI come back now to the first part of his objections.  When we came to the\nEnglishmen, I sent for them all together, and after some account given\nthem of what I had done for them, viz. what necessary things I had\nprovided for them, and how they were distributed, which they were very\nsensible of, and very thankful for, I began to talk to them of the\nscandalous life they led, and gave them a full account of the notice the\nclergyman had taken of it; and arguing how unchristian and irreligious a\nlife it was, I first asked them if they were married men or bachelors?\nThey soon explained their condition to me, and showed that two of them\nwere widowers, and the other three were single men, or bachelors.  I\nasked them with what conscience they could take these women, and call\nthem their wives, and have so many children by them, and not be lawfully\nmarried to them?  They all gave me the answer I expected, viz. that there\nwas nobody to marry them; that they agreed before the governor to keep\nthem as their wives, and to maintain them and own them as their wives;\nand they thought, as things stood with them, they were as legally married\nas if they had been married by a parson and with all the formalities in\nthe world.\nI told them that no doubt they were married in the sight of God, and were\nbound in conscience to keep them as their wives; but that the laws of men\nbeing otherwise, they might desert the poor women and children hereafter;\nand that their wives, being poor desolate women, friendless and\nmoneyless, would have no way to help themselves.  I therefore told them\nthat unless I was assured of their honest intent, I could do nothing for\nthem, but would take care that what I did should be for the women and\nchildren without them; and that, unless they would give me some\nassurances that they would marry the women, I could not think it was\nconvenient they should continue together as man and wife; for that it was\nboth scandalous to men and offensive to God, who they could not think\nwould bless them if they went on thus.\nAll this went on as I expected; and they told me, especially Will Atkins,\nwho now seemed to speak for the rest, that they loved their wives as well\nas if they had been born in their own native country, and would not leave\nthem on any account whatever; and they did verily believe that their\nwives were as virtuous and as modest, and did, to the utmost of their\nskill, as much for them and for their children, as any woman could\npossibly do: and they would not part with them on any account.  Will\nAtkins, for his own particular, added that if any man would take him\naway, and offer to carry him home to England, and make him captain of the\nbest man-of-war in the navy, he would not go with him if he might not\ncarry his wife and children with him; and if there was a clergyman in the\nship, he would be married to her now with all his heart.\nThis was just as I would have it.  The priest was not with me at that\nmoment, but he was not far off; so to try him further, I told him I had a\nclergyman with me, and, if he was sincere, I would have him married next\nmorning, and bade him consider of it, and talk with the rest.  He said,\nas for himself, he need not consider of it at all, for he was very ready\nto do it, and was glad I had a minister with me, and he believed they\nwould be all willing also.  I then told him that my friend, the minister,\nwas a Frenchman, and could not speak English, but I would act the clerk\nbetween them.  He never so much as asked me whether he was a Papist or\nProtestant, which was, indeed, what I was afraid of.  We then parted, and\nI went back to my clergyman, and Will Atkins went in to talk with his\ncompanions.  I desired the French gentleman not to say anything to them\ntill the business was thoroughly ripe; and I told him what answer the men\nhad given me.\nBefore I went from their quarter they all came to me and told me they had\nbeen considering what I had said; that they were glad to hear I had a\nclergyman in my company, and they were very willing to give me the\nsatisfaction I desired, and to be formally married as soon as I pleased;\nfor they were far from desiring to part with their wives, and that they\nmeant nothing but what was very honest when they chose them.  So I\nappointed them to meet me the next morning; and, in the meantime, they\nshould let their wives know the meaning of the marriage law; and that it\nwas not only to prevent any scandal, but also to oblige them that they\nshould not forsake them, whatever might happen.\nThe women were easily made sensible of the meaning of the thing, and were\nvery well satisfied with it, as, indeed, they had reason to be: so they\nfailed not to attend all together at my apartment next morning, where I\nbrought out my clergyman; and though he had not on a minister's gown,\nafter the manner of England, or the habit of a priest, after the manner\nof France, yet having a black vest something like a cassock, with a sash\nround it, he did not look very unlike a minister; and as for his\nlanguage, I was his interpreter.  But the seriousness of his behaviour to\nthem, and the scruples he made of marrying the women, because they were\nnot baptized and professed Christians, gave them an exceeding reverence\nfor his person; and there was no need, after that, to inquire whether he\nwas a clergyman or not.  Indeed, I was afraid his scruples would have\nbeen carried so far as that he would not have married them at all; nay,\nnotwithstanding all I was able to say to him, he resisted me, though\nmodestly, yet very steadily, and at last refused absolutely to marry\nthem, unless he had first talked with the men and the women too; and\nthough at first I was a little backward to it, yet at last I agreed to it\nwith a good will, perceiving the sincerity of his design.\nWhen he came to them he let them know that I had acquainted him with\ntheir circumstances, and with the present design; that he was very\nwilling to perform that part of his function, and marry them, as I had\ndesired; but that before he could do it, he must take the liberty to talk\nwith them.  He told them that in the sight of all indifferent men, and in\nthe sense of the laws of society, they had lived all this while in a\nstate of sin; and that it was true that nothing but the consenting to\nmarry, or effectually separating them from one another, could now put an\nend to it; but there was a difficulty in it, too, with respect to the\nlaws of Christian matrimony, which he was not fully satisfied about, that\nof marrying one that is a professed Christian to a savage, an idolater,\nand a heathen--one that is not baptized; and yet that he did not see that\nthere was time left to endeavour to persuade the women to be baptized, or\nto profess the name of Christ, whom they had, he doubted, heard nothing\nof, and without which they could not be baptized.  He told them he\ndoubted they were but indifferent Christians themselves; that they had\nbut little knowledge of God or of His ways, and, therefore, he could not\nexpect that they had said much to their wives on that head yet; but that\nunless they would promise him to use their endeavours with their wives to\npersuade them to become Christians, and would, as well as they could,\ninstruct them in the knowledge and belief of God that made them, and to\nworship Jesus Christ that redeemed them, he could not marry them; for he\nwould have no hand in joining Christians with savages, nor was it\nconsistent with the principles of the Christian religion, and was,\nindeed, expressly forbidden in God's law.\nThey heard all this very attentively, and I delivered it very faithfully\nto them from his mouth, as near his own words as I could; only sometimes\nadding something of my own, to convince them how just it was, and that I\nwas of his mind; and I always very carefully distinguished between what I\nsaid from myself and what were the clergyman's words.  They told me it\nwas very true what the gentleman said, that they were very indifferent\nChristians themselves, and that they had never talked to their wives\nabout religion.  \"Lord, sir,\" says Will Atkins, \"how should we teach them\nreligion?  Why, we know nothing ourselves; and besides, sir,\" said he,\n\"should we talk to them of God and Jesus Christ, and heaven and hell, it\nwould make them laugh at us, and ask us what we believe ourselves.  And\nif we should tell them that we believe all the things we speak of to\nthem, such as of good people going to heaven, and wicked people to the\ndevil, they would ask us where we intend to go ourselves, that believe\nall this, and are such wicked fellows as we indeed are?  Why, sir; 'tis\nenough to give them a surfeit of religion at first hearing; folks must\nhave some religion themselves before they begin to teach other\npeople.\"--\"Will Atkins,\" said I to him, \"though I am afraid that what you\nsay has too much truth in it, yet can you not tell your wife she is in\nthe wrong; that there is a God and a religion better than her own; that\nher gods are idols; that they can neither hear nor speak; that there is a\ngreat Being that made all things, and that can destroy all that He has\nmade; that He rewards the good and punishes the bad; and that we are to\nbe judged by Him at last for all we do here?  You are not so ignorant but\neven nature itself will teach you that all this is true; and I am\nsatisfied you know it all to be true, and believe it yourself.\"--\"That is\ntrue, sir,\" said Atkins; \"but with what face can I say anything to my\nwife of all this, when she will tell me immediately it cannot be\ntrue?\"--\"Not true!\" said I; \"what do you mean by that?\"--\"Why, sir,\" said\nhe, \"she will tell me it cannot be true that this God I shall tell her of\ncan be just, or can punish or reward, since I am not punished and sent to\nthe devil, that have been such a wicked creature as she knows I have\nbeen, even to her, and to everybody else; and that I should be suffered\nto live, that have been always acting so contrary to what I must tell her\nis good, and to what I ought to have done.\"--\"Why, truly, Atkins,\" said\nI, \"I am afraid thou speakest too much truth;\" and with that I informed\nthe clergyman of what Atkins had said, for he was impatient to know.\n\"Oh,\" said the priest, \"tell him there is one thing will make him the\nbest minister in the world to his wife, and that is repentance; for none\nteach repentance like true penitents.  He wants nothing but to repent,\nand then he will be so much the better qualified to instruct his wife; he\nwill then be able to tell her that there is not only a God, and that He\nis the just rewarder of good and evil, but that He is a merciful Being,\nand with infinite goodness and long-suffering forbears to punish those\nthat offend; waiting to be gracious, and willing not the death of a\nsinner, but rather that he should return and live; and even reserves\ndamnation to the general day of retribution; that it is a clear evidence\nof God and of a future state that righteous men receive not their reward,\nor wicked men their punishment, till they come into another world; and\nthis will lead him to teach his wife the doctrine of the resurrection and\nof the last judgment.  Let him but repent himself, he will be an\nexcellent preacher of repentance to his wife.\"\nI repeated all this to Atkins, who looked very serious all the while,\nand, as we could easily perceive, was more than ordinarily affected with\nit; when being eager, and hardly suffering me to make an end, \"I know all\nthis, master,\" says he, \"and a great deal more; but I have not the\nimpudence to talk thus to my wife, when God and my conscience know, and\nmy wife will be an undeniable evidence against me, that I have lived as\nif I had never heard of a God or future state, or anything about it; and\nto talk of my repenting, alas!\" (and with that he fetched a deep sigh,\nand I could see that the tears stood in his eyes) \"'tis past all that\nwith me.\"--\"Past it, Atkins?\" said I: \"what dost thou mean by that?\"--\"I\nknow well enough what I mean,\" says he; \"I mean 'tis too late, and that\nis too true.\"\nI told the clergyman, word for word, what he said, and this affectionate\nman could not refrain from tears; but, recovering himself, said to me,\n\"Ask him but one question.  Is he easy that it is too late; or is he\ntroubled, and wishes it were not so?\"  I put the question fairly to\nAtkins; and he answered with a great deal of passion, \"How could any man\nbe easy in a condition that must certainly end in eternal destruction?\nthat he was far from being easy; but that, on the contrary, he believed\nit would one time or other ruin him.\"--\"What do you mean by that?\" said\nI.--\"Why,\" he said, \"he believed he should one time or other cut his\nthroat, to put an end to the terror of it.\"\nThe clergyman shook his head, with great concern in his face, when I told\nhim all this; but turning quick to me upon it, says, \"If that be his\ncase, we may assure him it is not too late; Christ will give him\nrepentance.  But pray,\" says he, \"explain this to him: that as no man is\nsaved but by Christ, and the merit of His passion procuring divine mercy\nfor him, how can it be too late for any man to receive mercy?  Does he\nthink he is able to sin beyond the power or reach of divine mercy?  Pray\ntell him there may be a time when provoked mercy will no longer strive,\nand when God may refuse to hear, but that it is never too late for men to\nask mercy; and we, that are Christ's servants, are commanded to preach\nmercy at all times, in the name of Jesus Christ, to all those that\nsincerely repent: so that it is never too late to repent.\"\nI told Atkins all this, and he heard me with great earnestness; but it\nseemed as if he turned off the discourse to the rest, for he said to me\nhe would go and have some talk with his wife; so he went out a while, and\nwe talked to the rest.  I perceived they were all stupidly ignorant as to\nmatters of religion, as much as I was when I went rambling away from my\nfather; yet there were none of them backward to hear what had been said;\nand all of them seriously promised that they would talk with their wives\nabout it, and do their endeavours to persuade them to turn Christians.\nThe clergyman smiled upon me when I reported what answer they gave, but\nsaid nothing a good while; but at last, shaking his head, \"We that are\nChrist's servants,\" says he, \"can go no further than to exhort and\ninstruct: and when men comply, submit to the reproof, and promise what we\nask, 'tis all we can do; we are bound to accept their good words; but\nbelieve me, sir,\" said he, \"whatever you may have known of the life of\nthat man you call Will Atkin's, I believe he is the only sincere convert\namong them: I will not despair of the rest; but that man is apparently\nstruck with the sense of his past life, and I doubt not, when he comes to\ntalk of religion to his wife, he will talk himself effectually into it:\nfor attempting to teach others is sometimes the best way of teaching\nourselves.  If that poor Atkins begins but once to talk seriously of\nJesus Christ to his wife, he will assuredly talk himself into a thorough\nconvert, make himself a penitent, and who knows what may follow.\"\nUpon this discourse, however, and their promising, as above, to endeavour\nto persuade their wives to embrace Christianity, he married the two other\ncouple; but Will Atkins and his wife were not yet come in.  After this,\nmy clergyman, waiting a while, was curious to know where Atkins was gone,\nand turning to me, said, \"I entreat you, sir, let us walk out of your\nlabyrinth here and look; I daresay we shall find this poor man somewhere\nor other talking seriously to his wife, and teaching her already\nsomething of religion.\"  I began to be of the same mind; so we went out\ntogether, and I carried him a way which none knew but myself, and where\nthe trees were so very thick that it was not easy to see through the\nthicket of leaves, and far harder to see in than to see out: when, coming\nto the edge of the wood, I saw Atkins and his tawny wife sitting under\nthe shade of a bush, very eager in discourse: I stopped short till my\nclergyman came up to me, and then having showed him where they were, we\nstood and looked very steadily at them a good while.  We observed him\nvery earnest with her, pointing up to the sun, and to every quarter of\nthe heavens, and then down to the earth, then out to the sea, then to\nhimself, then to her, to the woods, to the trees.  \"Now,\" says the\nclergyman, \"you see my words are made good, the man preaches to her; mark\nhim now, he is telling her that our God has made him, her, and the\nheavens, the earth, the sea, the woods, the trees, &c.\"--\"I believe he\nis,\" said I.  Immediately we perceived Will Atkins start upon his feet,\nfall down on his knees, and lift up both his hands.  We supposed he said\nsomething, but we could not hear him; it was too far for that.  He did\nnot continue kneeling half a minute, but comes and sits down again by his\nwife, and talks to her again; we perceived then the woman very attentive,\nbut whether she said anything to him we could not tell.  While the poor\nfellow was upon his knees I could see the tears run plentifully down my\nclergyman's cheeks, and I could hardly forbear myself; but it was a great\naffliction to us both that we were not near enough to hear anything that\npassed between them.  Well, however, we could come no nearer for fear of\ndisturbing them: so we resolved to see an end of this piece of still\nconversation, and it spoke loud enough to us without the help of voice.\nHe sat down again, as I have said, close by her, and talked again\nearnestly to her, and two or three times we could see him embrace her\nmost passionately; another time we saw him take out his handkerchief and\nwipe her eyes, and then kiss her again with a kind of transport very\nunusual; and after several of these things, we saw him on a sudden jump\nup again, and lend her his hand to help her up, when immediately leading\nher by the hand a step or two, they both kneeled down together, and\ncontinued so about two minutes.\nMy friend could bear it no longer, but cries out aloud, \"St. Paul!  St.\nPaul! behold he prayeth.\"  I was afraid Atkins would hear him, therefore\nI entreated him to withhold himself a while, that we might see an end of\nthe scene, which to me, I must confess, was the most affecting that ever\nI saw in my life.  Well, he strove with himself for a while, but was in\nsuch raptures to think that the poor heathen woman was become a\nChristian, that he was not able to contain himself; he wept several\ntimes, then throwing up his hands and crossing his breast, said over\nseveral things ejaculatory, and by the way of giving God thanks for so\nmiraculous a testimony of the success of our endeavours.  Some he spoke\nsoftly, and I could not well hear others; some things he said in Latin,\nsome in French; then two or three times the tears would interrupt him,\nthat he could not speak at all; but I begged that he would contain\nhimself, and let us more narrowly and fully observe what was before us,\nwhich he did for a time, the scene not being near ended yet; for after\nthe poor man and his wife were risen again from their knees, we observed\nhe stood talking still eagerly to her, and we observed her motion, that\nshe was greatly affected with what he said, by her frequently lifting up\nher hands, laying her hand to her breast, and such other postures as\nexpress the greatest seriousness and attention; this continued about half\na quarter of an hour, and then they walked away, so we could see no more\nof them in that situation.\nI took this interval to say to the clergyman, first, that I was glad to\nsee the particulars we had both been witnesses to; that, though I was\nhard enough of belief in such cases, yet that I began to think it was all\nvery sincere here, both in the man and his wife, however ignorant they\nmight both be, and I hoped such a beginning would yet have a more happy\nend.  \"But, my friend,\" added I, \"will you give me leave to start one\ndifficulty here?  I cannot tell how to object the least thing against\nthat affectionate concern which you show for the turning of the poor\npeople from their paganism to the Christian religion; but how does this\ncomfort you, while these people are, in your account, out of the pale of\nthe Catholic Church, without which you believe there is no salvation? so\nthat you esteem these but heretics, as effectually lost as the pagans\nthemselves.\"\nTo this he answered, with abundance of candour, thus: \"Sir, I am a\nCatholic of the Roman Church, and a priest of the order of St. Benedict,\nand I embrace all the principles of the Roman faith; but yet, if you will\nbelieve me, and that I do not speak in compliment to you, or in respect\nto my circumstances and your civilities; I say nevertheless, I do not\nlook upon you, who call yourselves reformed, without some charity.  I\ndare not say (though I know it is our opinion in general) that you cannot\nbe saved; I will by no means limit the mercy of Christ so far as think\nthat He cannot receive you into the bosom of His Church, in a manner to\nus unperceivable; and I hope you have the same charity for us: I pray\ndaily for you being all restored to Christ's Church, by whatsoever method\nHe, who is all-wise, is pleased to direct.  In the meantime, surely you\nwill allow it consists with me as a Roman to distinguish far between a\nProtestant and a pagan; between one that calls on Jesus Christ, though in\na way which I do not think is according to the true faith, and a savage\nor a barbarian, that knows no God, no Christ, no Redeemer; and if you are\nnot within the pale of the Catholic Church, we hope you are nearer being\nrestored to it than those who know nothing of God or of His Church: and I\nrejoice, therefore, when I see this poor man, who you say has been a\nprofligate, and almost a murderer kneel down and pray to Jesus Christ, as\nwe suppose he did, though not fully enlightened; believing that God, from\nwhom every such work proceeds, will sensibly touch his heart, and bring\nhim to the further knowledge of that truth in His own time; and if God\nshall influence this poor man to convert and instruct the ignorant\nsavage, his wife, I can never believe that he shall be cast away himself.\nAnd have I not reason, then, to rejoice, the nearer any are brought to\nthe knowledge of Christ, though they may not be brought quite home into\nthe bosom of the Catholic Church just at the time when I desire it,\nleaving it to the goodness of Christ to perfect His work in His own time,\nand in his own way?  Certainly, I would rejoice if all the savages in\nAmerica were brought, like this poor woman, to pray to God, though they\nwere all to be Protestants at first, rather than they should continue\npagans or heathens; firmly believing, that He that had bestowed the first\nlight on them would farther illuminate them with a beam of His heavenly\ngrace, and bring them into the pale of His Church when He should see\ngood.\"\nCHAPTER VII--CONVERSATION BETWIXT WILL ATKINS AND HIS WIFE\nI was astonished at the sincerity and temper of this pious Papist, as\nmuch as I was oppressed by the power of his reasoning; and it presently\noccurred to my thoughts, that if such a temper was universal, we might be\nall Catholic Christians, whatever Church or particular profession we\njoined in; that a spirit of charity would soon work us all up into right\nprinciples; and as he thought that the like charity would make us all\nCatholics, so I told him I believed, had all the members of his Church\nthe like moderation, they would soon all be Protestants.  And there we\nleft that part; for we never disputed at all.  However, I talked to him\nanother way, and taking him by the hand, \"My friend,\" says I, \"I wish all\nthe clergy of the Romish Church were blessed with such moderation, and\nhad an equal share of your charity.  I am entirely of your opinion; but I\nmust tell you that if you should preach such doctrine in Spain or Italy,\nthey would put you into the Inquisition.\"--\"It may be so,\" said he; \"I\nknow not what they would do in Spain or Italy; but I will not say they\nwould be the better Christians for that severity; for I am sure there is\nno heresy in abounding with charity.\"\nWell, as Will Atkins and his wife were gone, our business there was over,\nso we went back our own way; and when we came back, we found them waiting\nto be called in.  Observing this, I asked my clergyman if we should\ndiscover to him that we had seen him under the bush or not; and it was\nhis opinion we should not, but that we should talk to him first, and hear\nwhat he would say to us; so we called him in alone, nobody being in the\nplace but ourselves, and I began by asking him some particulars about his\nparentage and education.  He told me frankly enough that his father was a\nclergyman who would have taught him well, but that he, Will Atkins,\ndespised all instruction and correction; and by his brutish conduct cut\nthe thread of all his father's comforts and shortened his days, for that\nhe broke his heart by the most ungrateful, unnatural return for the most\naffectionate treatment a father ever gave.\nIn what he said there seemed so much sincerity of repentance, that it\npainfully affected me.  I could not but reflect that I, too, had\nshortened the life of a good, tender father by my bad conduct and\nobstinate self-will.  I was, indeed, so surprised with what he had told\nme, that I thought, instead of my going about to teach and instruct him,\nthe man was made a teacher and instructor to me in a most unexpected\nmanner.\nI laid all this before the young clergyman, who was greatly affected with\nit, and said to me, \"Did I not say, sir, that when this man was converted\nhe would preach to us all?  I tell you, sir, if this one man be made a\ntrue penitent, there will be no need of me; he will make Christians of\nall in the island.\"--But having a little composed myself, I renewed my\ndiscourse with Will Atkins.  \"But, Will,\" said I, \"how comes the sense of\nthis matter to touch you just now?\"\n_W.A._--Sir, you have set me about a work that has struck a dart though\nmy very soul; I have been talking about God and religion to my wife, in\norder, as you directed me, to make a Christian of her, and she has\npreached such a sermon to me as I shall never forget while I live.\n_R.C._--No, no, it is not your wife has preached to you; but when you\nwere moving religious arguments to her, conscience has flung them back\nupon you.\n_W.A._--Ay, sir, with such force as is not to be resisted.\n_R.C._--Pray, Will, let us know what passed between you and your wife;\nfor I know something of it already.\n_W.A._--Sir, it is impossible to give you a full account of it; I am too\nfull to hold it, and yet have no tongue to express it; but let her have\nsaid what she will, though I cannot give you an account of it, this I can\ntell you, that I have resolved to amend and reform my life.\n_R.C._--But tell us some of it: how did you begin, Will?  For this has\nbeen an extraordinary case, that is certain.  She has preached a sermon,\nindeed, if she has wrought this upon you.\n_W.A._--Why, I first told her the nature of our laws about marriage, and\nwhat the reasons were that men and women were obliged to enter into such\ncompacts as it was neither in the power of one nor other to break; that\notherwise, order and justice could not be maintained, and men would run\nfrom their wives, and abandon their children, mix confusedly with one\nanother, and neither families be kept entire, nor inheritances be settled\nby legal descent.\n_R.C._--You talk like a civilian, Will.  Could you make her understand\nwhat you meant by inheritance and families?  They know no such things\namong the savages, but marry anyhow, without regard to relation,\nconsanguinity, or family; brother and sister, nay, as I have been told,\neven the father and the daughter, and the son and the mother.\n_W.A._--I believe, sir, you are misinformed, and my wife assures me of\nthe contrary, and that they abhor it; perhaps, for any further relations,\nthey may not be so exact as we are; but she tells me never in the near\nrelationship you speak of.\n_R.C._--Well, what did she say to what you told her?\n_W.A._--She said she liked it very well, as it was much better than in\nher country.\n_R.C._--But did you tell her what marriage was?\n_W.A._--Ay, ay, there began our dialogue.  I asked her if she would be\nmarried to me our way.  She asked me what way that was; I told her\nmarriage was appointed by God; and here we had a strange talk together,\nindeed, as ever man and wife had, I believe.\nN.B.--This dialogue between Will Atkins and his wife, which I took down\nin writing just after he told it me, was as follows:--\n_Wife_.--Appointed by your God!--Why, have you a God in your country?\n_W.A._--Yes, my dear, God is in every country.\n_Wife_.--No your God in my country; my country have the great old\nBenamuckee God.\n_W.A._--Child, I am very unfit to show you who God is; God is in heaven\nand made the heaven and the earth, the sea, and all that in them is.\n_Wife_.--No makee de earth; no you God makee all earth; no makee my\ncountry.\n[Will Atkins laughed a little at her expression of God not making her\ncountry.]\n_Wife_.--No laugh; why laugh me?  This no ting to laugh.\n[He was justly reproved by his wife, for she was more serious than he at\nfirst.]\n_W.A._--That's true, indeed; I will not laugh any more, my dear.\n_Wife_.--Why you say you God makee all?\n_W.A._--Yes, child, our God made the whole world, and you, and me, and\nall things; for He is the only true God, and there is no God but Him.  He\nlives for ever in heaven.\n_Wife_.--Why you no tell me long ago?\n_W.A._--That's true, indeed; but I have been a wicked wretch, and have\nnot only forgotten to acquaint thee with anything before, but have lived\nwithout God in the world myself.\n_Wife_.--What, have you a great God in your country, you no know Him?  No\nsay O to Him?  No do good ting for Him?  That no possible.\n_W.A._--It is true; though, for all that, we live as if there was no God\nin heaven, or that He had no power on earth.\n_Wife_.--But why God let you do so?  Why He no makee you good live?\n_W.A._--It is all our own fault.\n_Wife_.--But you say me He is great, much great, have much great power;\ncan makee kill when He will: why He no makee kill when you no serve Him?\nno say O to Him? no be good mans?\n_W.A._--That is true, He might strike me dead; and I ought to expect it,\nfor I have been a wicked wretch, that is true; but God is merciful, and\ndoes not deal with us as we deserve.\n_Wife_.--But then do you not tell God thankee for that too?\n_W. A._--No, indeed, I have not thanked God for His mercy, any more than\nI have feared God from His power.\n_Wife_.--Then you God no God; me no think, believe He be such one, great\nmuch power, strong: no makee kill you, though you make Him much angry.\n_W.A._--What, will my wicked life hinder you from believing in God?  What\na dreadful creature am I! and what a sad truth is it, that the horrid\nlives of Christians hinder the conversion of heathens!\n_Wife_.--How me tink you have great much God up there [she points up to\nheaven], and yet no do well, no do good ting?  Can He tell?  Sure He no\ntell what you do?\n_W.A._--Yes, yes, He knows and sees all things; He hears us speak, sees\nwhat we do, knows what we think though we do not speak.\n_Wife_.--What!  He no hear you curse, swear, speak de great damn?\n_W.A._--Yes, yes, He hears it all.\n_Wife_.--Where be then the much great power strong?\n_W.A._--He is merciful, that is all we can say for it; and this proves\nHim to be the true God; He is God, and not man, and therefore we are not\nconsumed.\n[Here Will Atkins told us he was struck with horror to think how he could\ntell his wife so clearly that God sees, and hears, and knows the secret\nthoughts of the heart, and all that we do, and yet that he had dared to\ndo all the vile things he had done.]\n_Wife_.--Merciful!  What you call dat?\n_W.A._--He is our Father and Maker, and He pities and spares us.\n_Wife_.--So then He never makee kill, never angry when you do wicked;\nthen He no good Himself, or no great able.\n_W.A._--Yes, yes, my dear, He is infinitely good and infinitely great,\nand able to punish too; and sometimes, to show His justice and vengeance,\nHe lets fly His anger to destroy sinners and make examples; many are cut\noff in their sins.\n_Wife_.--But no makee kill you yet; then He tell you, maybe, that He no\nmakee you kill: so you makee the bargain with Him, you do bad thing, He\nno be angry at you when He be angry at other mans.\n_W.A._--No, indeed, my sins are all presumptions upon His goodness; and\nHe would be infinitely just if He destroyed me, as He has done other men.\n_Wife_.--Well, and yet no kill, no makee you dead: what you say to Him\nfor that?  You no tell Him thankee for all that too?\n_W.A._--I am an unthankful, ungrateful dog, that is true.\n_Wife_.--Why He no makee you much good better? you say He makee you.\n_W.A._--He made me as He made all the world: it is I have deformed myself\nand abused His goodness, and made myself an abominable wretch.\n_Wife_.--I wish you makee God know me.  I no makee Him angry--I no do bad\nwicked thing.\n[Here Will Atkins said his heart sunk within him to hear a poor untaught\ncreature desire to be taught to know God, and he such a wicked wretch,\nthat he could not say one word to her about God, but what the reproach of\nhis own carriage would make most irrational to her to believe; nay, that\nalready she had told him that she could not believe in God, because he,\nthat was so wicked, was not destroyed.]\n_W.A._--My dear, you mean, you wish I could teach you to know God, not\nGod to know you; for He knows you already, and every thought in your\nheart.\n_Wife_.--Why, then, He know what I say to you now: He know me wish to\nknow Him.  How shall me know who makee me?\n_W.A._--Poor creature, He must teach thee: I cannot teach thee.  I will\npray to Him to teach thee to know Him, and forgive me, that am unworthy\nto teach thee.\n[The poor fellow was in such an agony at her desiring him to make her\nknow God, and her wishing to know Him, that he said he fell down on his\nknees before her, and prayed to God to enlighten her mind with the saving\nknowledge of Jesus Christ, and to pardon his sins, and accept of his\nbeing the unworthy instrument of instructing her in the principles of\nreligion: after which he sat down by her again, and their dialogue went\non.  This was the time when we saw him kneel down and hold up his hands.]\n_Wife_.--What you put down the knee for?  What you hold up the hand for?\nWhat you say?  Who you speak to?  What is all that?\n_W.A._--My dear, I bow my knees in token of my submission to Him that\nmade me: I said O to Him, as you call it, and as your old men do to their\nidol Benamuckee; that is, I prayed to Him.\n_Wife_.--What say you O to Him for?\n_W.A._--I prayed to Him to open your eyes and your understanding, that\nyou may know Him, and be accepted by Him.\n_Wife_.--Can He do that too?\n_W.A._--Yes, He can: He can do all things.\n_Wife_.--But now He hear what you say?\n_W.A._--Yes, He has bid us pray to Him, and promised to hear us.\n_Wife_.--Bid you pray?  When He bid you?  How He bid you?  What you hear\nHim speak?\n_W.A._--No, we do not hear Him speak; but He has revealed Himself many\nways to us.\n[Here he was at a great loss to make her understand that God has revealed\nHimself to us by His word, and what His word was; but at last he told it\nto her thus.]\n_W.A._--God has spoken to some good men in former days, even from heaven,\nby plain words; and God has inspired good men by His Spirit; and they\nhave written all His laws down in a book.\n_Wife_.--Me no understand that; where is book?\n_W.A._--Alas! my poor creature, I have not this book; but I hope I shall\none time or other get it for you, and help you to read it.\n[Here he embraced her with great affection, but with inexpressible grief\nthat he had not a Bible.]\n_Wife_.--But how you makee me know that God teachee them to write that\nbook?\n_W.A._--By the same rule that we know Him to be God.\n_Wife_.--What rule?  What way you know Him?\n_W.A._--Because He teaches and commands nothing but what is good,\nrighteous, and holy, and tends to make us perfectly good, as well as\nperfectly happy; and because He forbids and commands us to avoid all that\nis wicked, that is evil in itself, or evil in its consequence.\n_Wife_.--That me would understand, that me fain see; if He teachee all\ngood thing, He makee all good thing, He give all thing, He hear me when I\nsay O to Him, as you do just now; He makee me good if I wish to be good;\nHe spare me, no makee kill me, when I no be good: all this you say He do,\nyet He be great God; me take, think, believe Him to be great God; me say\nO to Him with you, my dear.\nHere the poor man could forbear no longer, but raised her up, made her\nkneel by him, and he prayed to God aloud to instruct her in the knowledge\nof Himself, by His Spirit; and that by some good providence, if possible,\nshe might, some time or other, come to have a Bible, that she might read\nthe word of God, and be taught by it to know Him.  This was the time that\nwe saw him lift her up by the hand, and saw him kneel down by her, as\nabove.\nThey had several other discourses, it seems, after this; and particularly\nshe made him promise that, since he confessed his own life had been a\nwicked, abominable course of provocations against God, that he would\nreform it, and not make God angry any more, lest He should make him dead,\nas she called it, and then she would be left alone, and never be taught\nto know this God better; and lest he should be miserable, as he had told\nher wicked men would be after death.\nThis was a strange account, and very affecting to us both, but\nparticularly to the young clergyman; he was, indeed, wonderfully\nsurprised with it, but under the greatest affliction imaginable that he\ncould not talk to her, that he could not speak English to make her\nunderstand him; and as she spoke but very broken English, he could not\nunderstand her; however, he turned himself to me, and told me that he\nbelieved that there must be more to do with this woman than to marry her.\nI did not understand him at first; but at length he explained himself,\nviz. that she ought to be baptized.  I agreed with him in that part\nreadily, and wished it to be done presently.  \"No, no; hold, sir,\" says\nhe; \"though I would have her be baptized, by all means, for I must\nobserve that Will Atkins, her husband, has indeed brought her, in a\nwonderful manner, to be willing to embrace a religious life, and has\ngiven her just ideas of the being of a God; of His power, justice, and\nmercy: yet I desire to know of him if he has said anything to her of\nJesus Christ, and of the salvation of sinners; of the nature of faith in\nHim, and redemption by Him; of the Holy Spirit, the resurrection, the\nlast judgment, and the future state.\"\nI called Will Atkins again, and asked him; but the poor fellow fell\nimmediately into tears, and told us he had said something to her of all\nthose things, but that he was himself so wicked a creature, and his own\nconscience so reproached him with his horrid, ungodly life, that he\ntrembled at the apprehensions that her knowledge of him should lessen the\nattention she should give to those things, and make her rather contemn\nreligion than receive it; but he was assured, he said, that her mind was\nso disposed to receive due impressions of all those things, and that if I\nwould but discourse with her, she would make it appear to my satisfaction\nthat my labour would not be lost upon her.\nAccordingly I called her in, and placing myself as interpreter between my\nreligious priest and the woman, I entreated him to begin with her; but\nsure such a sermon was never preached by a Popish priest in these latter\nages of the world; and as I told him, I thought he had all the zeal, all\nthe knowledge, all the sincerity of a Christian, without the error of a\nRoman Catholic; and that I took him to be such a clergyman as the Roman\nbishops were before the Church of Rome assumed spiritual sovereignty over\nthe consciences of men.  In a word, he brought the poor woman to embrace\nthe knowledge of Christ, and of redemption by Him, not with wonder and\nastonishment only, as she did the first notions of a God, but with joy\nand faith; with an affection, and a surprising degree of understanding,\nscarce to be imagined, much less to be expressed; and, at her own\nrequest, she was baptized.\nWhen he was preparing to baptize her, I entreated him that he would\nperform that office with some caution, that the man might not perceive he\nwas of the Roman Church, if possible, because of other ill consequences\nwhich might attend a difference among us in that very religion which we\nwere instructing the other in.  He told me that as he had no consecrated\nchapel, nor proper things for the office, I should see he would do it in\na manner that I should not know by it that he was a Roman Catholic\nmyself, if I had not known it before; and so he did; for saying only some\nwords over to himself in Latin, which I could not understand, he poured a\nwhole dishful of water upon the woman's head, pronouncing in French, very\nloud, \"Mary\" (which was the name her husband desired me to give her, for\nI was her godfather), \"I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of\nthe Son, and of the Holy Ghost;\" so that none could know anything by it\nwhat religion he was of.  He gave the benediction afterwards in Latin,\nbut either Will Atkins did not know but it was French, or else did not\ntake notice of it at that time.\nAs soon as this was over we married them; and after the marriage was\nover, he turned to Will Atkins, and in a very affectionate manner\nexhorted him, not only to persevere in that good disposition he was in,\nbut to support the convictions that were upon him by a resolution to\nreform his life: told him it was in vain to say he repented if he did not\nforsake his crimes; represented to him how God had honoured him with\nbeing the instrument of bringing his wife to the knowledge of the\nChristian religion, and that he should be careful he did not dishonour\nthe grace of God; and that if he did, he would see the heathen a better\nChristian than himself; the savage converted, and the instrument cast\naway.  He said a great many good things to them both; and then,\nrecommending them to God's goodness, gave them the benediction again, I\nrepeating everything to them in English; and thus ended the ceremony.  I\nthink it was the most pleasant and agreeable day to me that ever I passed\nin my whole life.  But my clergyman had not done yet: his thoughts hung\ncontinually upon the conversion of the thirty-seven savages, and fain be\nwould have stayed upon the island to have undertaken it; but I convinced\nhim, first, that his undertaking was impracticable in itself; and,\nsecondly, that perhaps I would put it into a way of being done in his\nabsence to his satisfaction.\nHaving thus brought the affairs of the island to a narrow compass, I was\npreparing to go on board the ship, when the young man I had taken out of\nthe famished ship's company came to me, and told me he understood I had a\nclergyman with me, and that I had caused the Englishmen to be married to\nthe savages; that he had a match too, which he desired might be finished\nbefore I went, between two Christians, which he hoped would not be\ndisagreeable to me.\nI knew this must be the young woman who was his mother's servant, for\nthere was no other Christian woman on the island: so I began to persuade\nhim not to do anything of that kind rashly, or because he found himself\nin this solitary circumstance.  I represented to him that he had some\nconsiderable substance in the world, and good friends, as I understood by\nhimself, and the maid also; that the maid was not only poor, and a\nservant, but was unequal to him, she being six or seven and twenty years\nold, and he not above seventeen or eighteen; that he might very probably,\nwith my assistance, make a remove from this wilderness, and come into his\nown country again; and that then it would be a thousand to one but he\nwould repent his choice, and the dislike of that circumstance might be\ndisadvantageous to both.  I was going to say more, but he interrupted me,\nsmiling, and told me, with a great deal of modesty, that I mistook in my\nguesses--that he had nothing of that kind in his thoughts; and he was\nvery glad to hear that I had an intent of putting them in a way to see\ntheir own country again; and nothing should have made him think of\nstaying there, but that the voyage I was going was so exceeding long and\nhazardous, and would carry him quite out of the reach of all his friends;\nthat he had nothing to desire of me but that I would settle him in some\nlittle property in the island where he was, give him a servant or two,\nand some few necessaries, and he would live here like a planter, waiting\nthe good time when, if ever I returned to England, I would redeem him.  He\nhoped I would not be unmindful of him when I came to England: that he\nwould give me some letters to his friends in London, to let them know how\ngood I had been to him, and in what part of the world and what\ncircumstances I had left him in: and he promised me that whenever I\nredeemed him, the plantation, and all the improvements he had made upon\nit, let the value be what it would, should be wholly mine.\nHis discourse was very prettily delivered, considering his youth, and was\nthe more agreeable to me, because he told me positively the match was not\nfor himself. I gave him all possible assurances that if I lived to come\nsafe to England, I would deliver his letters, and do his business\neffectually; and that he might depend I should never forget the\ncircumstances I had left him in.  But still I was impatient to know who\nwas the person to be married; upon which he told me it was my Jack-of-all-\ntrades and his maid Susan.  I was most agreeably surprised when he named\nthe match; for, indeed, I thought it very suitable.  The character of\nthat man I have given already; and as for the maid, she was a very\nhonest, modest, sober, and religious young woman: had a very good share\nof sense, was agreeable enough in her person, spoke very handsomely and\nto the purpose, always with decency and good manners, and was neither too\nbackward to speak when requisite, nor impertinently forward when it was\nnot her business; very handy and housewifely, and an excellent manager;\nfit, indeed, to have been governess to the whole island; and she knew\nvery well how to behave in every respect.\nThe match being proposed in this manner, we married them the same day;\nand as I was father at the altar, and gave her away, so I gave her a\nportion; for I appointed her and her husband a handsome large space of\nground for their plantation; and indeed this match, and the proposal the\nyoung gentleman made to give him a small property in the island, put me\nupon parcelling it out amongst them, that they might not quarrel\nafterwards about their situation.\nThis sharing out the land to them I left to Will Atkins, who was now\ngrown a sober, grave, managing fellow, perfectly reformed, exceedingly\npious and religious; and, as far as I may be allowed to speak positively\nin such a case, I verily believe he was a true penitent.  He divided\nthings so justly, and so much to every one's satisfaction, that they only\ndesired one general writing under my hand for the whole, which I caused\nto be drawn up, and signed and sealed, setting out the bounds and\nsituation of every man's plantation, and testifying that I gave them\nthereby severally a right to the whole possession and inheritance of the\nrespective plantations or farms, with their improvements, to them and\ntheir heirs, reserving all the rest of the island as my own property, and\na certain rent for every particular plantation after eleven years, if I,\nor any one from me, or in my name, came to demand it, producing an\nattested copy of the same writing.  As to the government and laws among\nthem, I told them I was not capable of giving them better rules than they\nwere able to give themselves; only I made them promise me to live in love\nand good neighbourhood with one another; and so I prepared to leave them.\nOne thing I must not omit, and that is, that being now settled in a kind\nof commonwealth among themselves, and having much business in hand, it\nwas odd to have seven-and-thirty Indians live in a nook of the island,\nindependent, and, indeed, unemployed; for except the providing themselves\nfood, which they had difficulty enough to do sometimes, they had no\nmanner of business or property to manage.  I proposed, therefore, to the\ngovernor Spaniard that he should go to them, with Friday's father, and\npropose to them to remove, and either plant for themselves, or be taken\ninto their several families as servants to be maintained for their\nlabour, but without being absolute slaves; for I would not permit them to\nmake them slaves by force, by any means; because they had their liberty\ngiven them by capitulation, as it were articles of surrender, which they\nought not to break.\nThey most willingly embraced the proposal, and came all very cheerfully\nalong with him: so we allotted them land and plantations, which three or\nfour accepted of, but all the rest chose to be employed as servants in\nthe several families we had settled.  Thus my colony was in a manner\nsettled as follows: The Spaniards possessed my original habitation, which\nwas the capital city, and extended their plantations all along the side\nof the brook, which made the creek that I have so often described, as far\nas my bower; and as they increased their culture, it went always\neastward.  The English lived in the north-east part, where Will Atkins\nand his comrades began, and came on southward and south-west, towards the\nback part of the Spaniards; and every plantation had a great addition of\nland to take in, if they found occasion, so that they need not jostle one\nanother for want of room.  All the east end of the island was left\nuninhabited, that if any of the savages should come on shore there only\nfor their customary barbarities, they might come and go; if they\ndisturbed nobody, nobody would disturb them: and no doubt but they were\noften ashore, and went away again; for I never heard that the planters\nwere ever attacked or disturbed any more.\nCHAPTER VIII--SAILS FROM THE ISLAND FOR THE BRAZILS\nIt now came into my thoughts that I had hinted to my friend the clergyman\nthat the work of converting the savages might perhaps be set on foot in\nhis absence to his satisfaction, and I told him that now I thought that\nit was put in a fair way; for the savages, being thus divided among the\nChristians, if they would but every one of them do their part with those\nwhich came under their hands, I hoped it might have a very good effect.\nHe agreed presently in that, if they did their part.  \"But how,\" says he,\n\"shall we obtain that of them?\"  I told him we would call them all\ntogether, and leave it in charge with them, or go to them, one by one,\nwhich he thought best; so we divided it--he to speak to the Spaniards,\nwho were all Papists, and I to speak to the English, who were all\nProtestants; and we recommended it earnestly to them, and made them\npromise that they would never make any distinction of Papist or\nProtestant in their exhorting the savages to turn Christians, but teach\nthem the general knowledge of the true God, and of their Saviour Jesus\nChrist; and they likewise promised us that they would never have any\ndifferences or disputes one with another about religion.\nWhen I came to Will Atkins's house, I found that the young woman I have\nmentioned above, and Will Atkins's wife, were become intimates; and this\nprudent, religious young woman had perfected the work Will Atkins had\nbegun; and though it was not above four days after what I have related,\nyet the new-baptized savage woman was made such a Christian as I have\nseldom heard of in all my observation or conversation in the world.  It\ncame next into my mind, in the morning before I went to them, that\namongst all the needful things I had to leave with them I had not left\nthem a Bible, in which I showed myself less considering for them than my\ngood friend the widow was for me when she sent me the cargo of a hundred\npounds from Lisbon, where she packed up three Bibles and a Prayer-book.\nHowever, the good woman's charity had a greater extent than ever she\nimagined, for they were reserved for the comfort and instruction of those\nthat made much better use of them than I had done.\nI took one of the Bibles in my pocket, and when I came to Will Atkins's\ntent, or house, and found the young woman and Atkins's baptized wife had\nbeen discoursing of religion together--for Will Atkins told it me with a\ngreat deal of joy--I asked if they were together now, and he said, \"Yes\";\nso I went into the house, and he with me, and we found them together very\nearnest in discourse.  \"Oh, sir,\" says Will Atkins, \"when God has sinners\nto reconcile to Himself, and aliens to bring home, He never wants a\nmessenger; my wife has got a new instructor: I knew I was unworthy, as I\nwas incapable of that work; that young woman has been sent hither from\nheaven--she is enough to convert a whole island of savages.\"  The young\nwoman blushed, and rose up to go away, but I desired her to sit-still; I\ntold her she had a good work upon her hands, and I hoped God would bless\nher in it.\nWe talked a little, and I did not perceive that they had any book among\nthem, though I did not ask; but I put my hand into my pocket, and pulled\nout my Bible.  \"Here,\" said I to Atkins, \"I have brought you an assistant\nthat perhaps you had not before.\"  The man was so confounded that he was\nnot able to speak for some time; but, recovering himself, he takes it\nwith both his hands, and turning to his wife, \"Here, my dear,\" says he,\n\"did not I tell you our God, though He lives above, could hear what we\nhave said?  Here's the book I prayed for when you and I kneeled down\nunder the bush; now God has heard us and sent it.\"  When he had said so,\nthe man fell into such passionate transports, that between the joy of\nhaving it, and giving God thanks for it, the tears ran down his face like\na child that was crying.\nThe woman was surprised, and was like to have run into a mistake that\nnone of us were aware of; for she firmly believed God had sent the book\nupon her husband's petition.  It is true that providentially it was so,\nand might be taken so in a consequent sense; but I believe it would have\nbeen no difficult matter at that time to have persuaded the poor woman to\nhave believed that an express messenger came from heaven on purpose to\nbring that individual book.  But it was too serious a matter to suffer\nany delusion to take place, so I turned to the young woman, and told her\nwe did not desire to impose upon the new convert in her first and more\nignorant understanding of things, and begged her to explain to her that\nGod may be very properly said to answer our petitions, when, in the\ncourse of His providence, such things are in a particular manner brought\nto pass as we petitioned for; but we did not expect returns from heaven\nin a miraculous and particular manner, and it is a mercy that it is not\nso.\nThis the young woman did afterwards effectually, so that there was no\npriestcraft used here; and I should have thought it one of the most\nunjustifiable frauds in the world to have had it so.  But the effect upon\nWill Atkins is really not to be expressed; and there, we may be sure, was\nno delusion.  Sure no man was ever more thankful in the world for\nanything of its kind than he was for the Bible, nor, I believe, never any\nman was glad of a Bible from a better principle; and though he had been a\nmost profligate creature, headstrong, furious, and desperately wicked,\nyet this man is a standing rule to us all for the well instructing\nchildren, viz. that parents should never give over to teach and instruct,\nnor ever despair of the success of their endeavours, let the children be\never so refractory, or to appearance insensible to instruction; for if\never God in His providence touches the conscience of such, the force of\ntheir education turns upon them, and the early instruction of parents is\nnot lost, though it may have been many years laid asleep, but some time\nor other they may find the benefit of it.  Thus it was with this poor\nman: however ignorant he was of religion and Christian knowledge, he\nfound he had some to do with now more ignorant than himself, and that the\nleast part of the instruction of his good father that now came to his\nmind was of use to him.\nAmong the rest, it occurred to him, he said, how his father used to\ninsist so much on the inexpressible value of the Bible, and the privilege\nand blessing of it to nations, families, and persons; but he never\nentertained the least notion of the worth of it till now, when, being to\ntalk to heathens, savages, and barbarians, he wanted the help of the\nwritten oracle for his assistance.  The young woman was glad of it also\nfor the present occasion, though she had one, and so had the youth, on\nboard our ship among their goods, which were not yet brought on shore.\nAnd now, having said so many things of this young woman, I cannot omit\ntelling one story more of her and myself, which has something in it very\ninstructive and remarkable.\nI have related to what extremity the poor young woman was reduced; how\nher mistress was starved to death, and died on board that unhappy ship we\nmet at sea, and how the whole ship's company was reduced to the last\nextremity.  The gentlewoman, and her son, and this maid, were first\nhardly used as to provisions, and at last totally neglected and\nstarved--that is to say, brought to the last extremity of hunger.  One\nday, being discoursing with her on the extremities they suffered, I asked\nher if she could describe, by what she had felt, what it was to starve,\nand how it appeared?  She said she believed she could, and told her tale\nvery distinctly thus:--\n\"First, we had for some days fared exceedingly hard, and suffered very\ngreat hunger; but at last we were wholly without food of any kind except\nsugar, and a little wine and water.  The first day after I had received\nno food at all, I found myself towards evening, empty and sick at the\nstomach, and nearer night much inclined to yawning and sleep.  I lay down\non the couch in the great cabin to sleep, and slept about three hours,\nand awaked a little refreshed, having taken a glass of wine when I lay\ndown; after being about three hours awake, it being about five o'clock in\nthe morning, I found myself empty, and my stomach sickish, and lay down\nagain, but could not sleep at all, being very faint and ill; and thus I\ncontinued all the second day with a strange variety--first hungry, then\nsick again, with retchings to vomit.  The second night, being obliged to\ngo to bed again without any food more than a draught of fresh water, and\nbeing asleep, I dreamed I was at Barbadoes, and that the market was\nmightily stocked with provisions; that I bought some for my mistress, and\nwent and dined very heartily.  I thought my stomach was full after this,\nas it would have been after a good dinner; but when I awaked I was\nexceedingly sunk in my spirits to find myself in the extremity of family.\nThe last glass of wine we had I drank, and put sugar in it, because of\nits having some spirit to supply nourishment; but there being no\nsubstance in the stomach for the digesting office to work upon, I found\nthe only effect of the wine was to raise disagreeable fumes from the\nstomach into the head; and I lay, as they told me, stupid and senseless,\nas one drunk, for some time.  The third day, in the morning, after a\nnight of strange, confused, and inconsistent dreams, and rather dozing\nthan sleeping, I awaked ravenous and furious with hunger; and I question,\nhad not my understanding returned and conquered it, whether if I had been\na mother, and had had a little child with me, its life would have been\nsafe or not.  This lasted about three hours, during which time I was\ntwice raging mad as any creature in Bedlam, as my young master told me,\nand as he can now inform you.\n\"In one of these fits of lunacy or distraction I fell down and struck my\nface against the corner of a pallet-bed, in which my mistress lay, and\nwith the blow the blood gushed out of my nose; and the cabin-boy bringing\nme a little basin, I sat down and bled into it a great deal; and as the\nblood came from me I came to myself, and the violence of the flame or\nfever I was in abated, and so did the ravenous part of the hunger.  Then\nI grew sick, and retched to vomit, but could not, for I had nothing in my\nstomach to bring up.  After I had bled some time I swooned, and they all\nbelieved I was dead; but I came to myself soon after, and then had a most\ndreadful pain in my stomach not to be described--not like the colic, but\na gnawing, eager pain for food; and towards night it went off with a kind\nof earnest wishing or longing for food.  I took another draught of water\nwith sugar in it; but my stomach loathed the sugar and brought it all up\nagain; then I took a draught of water without sugar, and that stayed with\nme; and I laid me down upon the bed, praying most heartily that it would\nplease God to take me away; and composing my mind in hopes of it, I\nslumbered a while, and then waking, thought myself dying, being light\nwith vapours from an empty stomach.  I recommended my soul then to God,\nand then earnestly wished that somebody would throw me into the into the\nsea.\n\"All this while my mistress lay by me, just, as I thought, expiring, but\nshe bore it with much more patience than I, and gave the last bit of\nbread she had left to her child, my young master, who would not have\ntaken it, but she obliged him to eat it; and I believe it saved his life.\nTowards the morning I slept again, and when I awoke I fell into a violent\npassion of crying, and after that had a second fit of violent hunger.  I\ngot up ravenous, and in a most dreadful condition; and once or twice I\nwas going to bite my own arm.  At last I saw the basin in which was the\nblood I had bled at my nose the day before: I ran to it, and swallowed it\nwith such haste, and such a greedy appetite, as if I wondered nobody had\ntaken it before, and afraid it should be taken from me now.  After it was\ndown, though the thoughts of it filled me with horror, yet it checked the\nfit of hunger, and I took another draught of water, and was composed and\nrefreshed for some hours after.  This was the fourth day; and this I kept\nup till towards night, when, within the compass of three hours, I had all\nthe several circumstances over again, one after another, viz. sick,\nsleepy, eagerly hungry, pain in the stomach, then ravenous again, then\nsick, then lunatic, then crying, then ravenous again, and so every\nquarter of an hour, and my strength wasted exceedingly; at night I lay me\ndown, having no comfort but in the hope that I should die before morning.\n\"All this night I had no sleep; but the hunger was now turned into a\ndisease; and I had a terrible colic and griping, by wind instead of food\nhaving found its way into the bowels; and in this condition I lay till\nmorning, when I was surprised by the cries and lamentations of my young\nmaster, who called out to me that his mother was dead.  I lifted myself\nup a little, for I had not strength to rise, but found she was not dead,\nthough she was able to give very little signs of life.  I had then such\nconvulsions in my stomach, for want of some sustenance, as I cannot\ndescribe; with such frequent throes and pangs of appetite as nothing but\nthe tortures of death can imitate; and in this condition I was when I\nheard the seamen above cry out, 'A sail! a sail!' and halloo and jump\nabout as if they were distracted.  I was not able to get off from the\nbed, and my mistress much less; and my young master was so sick that I\nthought he had been expiring; so we could not open the cabin door, or get\nany account what it was that occasioned such confusion; nor had we had\nany conversation with the ship's company for twelve days, they having\ntold us that they had not a mouthful of anything to eat in the ship; and\nthis they told us afterwards--they thought we had been dead.  It was this\ndreadful condition we were in when you were sent to save our lives; and\nhow you found us, sir, you know as well as I, and better too.\"\nThis was her own relation, and is such a distinct account of starving to\ndeath, as, I confess, I never met with, and was exceeding instructive to\nme.  I am the rather apt to believe it to be a true account, because the\nyouth gave me an account of a good part of it; though I must own, not so\ndistinct and so feeling as the maid; and the rather, because it seems his\nmother fed him at the price of her own life: but the poor maid, whose\nconstitution was stronger than that of her mistress, who was in years,\nand a weakly woman too, might struggle harder with it; nevertheless she\nmight be supposed to feel the extremity something sooner than her\nmistress, who might be allowed to keep the last bit something longer than\nshe parted with any to relieve her maid.  No question, as the case is\nhere related, if our ship or some other had not so providentially met\nthem, but a few days more would have ended all their lives.  I now return\nto my disposition of things among the people.  And, first, it is to be\nobserved here, that for many reasons I did not think fit to let them know\nanything of the sloop I had framed, and which I thought of setting up\namong them; for I found, at least at my first coming, such seeds of\ndivision among them, that I saw plainly, had I set up the sloop, and left\nit among them, they would, upon every light disgust, have separated, and\ngone away from one another; or perhaps have turned pirates, and so made\nthe island a den of thieves, instead of a plantation of sober and\nreligious people, as I intended it; nor did I leave the two pieces of\nbrass cannon that I had on board, or the extra two quarter-deck guns that\nmy nephew had provided, for the same reason.  I thought it was enough to\nqualify them for a defensive war against any that should invade them, but\nnot to set them up for an offensive war, or to go abroad to attack\nothers; which, in the end, would only bring ruin and destruction upon\nthem.  I reserved the sloop, therefore, and the guns, for their service\nanother way, as I shall observe in its place.\nHaving now done with the island, I left them all in good circumstances\nand in a flourishing condition, and went on board my ship again on the\n6th of May, having been about twenty-five days among them: and as they\nwere all resolved to stay upon the island till I came to remove them, I\npromised to send them further relief from the Brazils, if I could\npossibly find an opportunity.  I particularly promised to send them some\ncattle, such as sheep, hogs, and cows: as to the two cows and calves\nwhich I brought from England, we had been obliged, by the length of our\nvoyage, to kill them at sea, for want of hay to feed them.\nThe next day, giving them a salute of five guns at parting, we set sail,\nand arrived at the bay of All Saints in the Brazils in about twenty-two\ndays, meeting nothing remarkable in our passage but this: that about\nthree days after we had sailed, being becalmed, and the current setting\nstrong to the ENE., running, as it were, into a bay or gulf on the land\nside, we were driven something out of our course, and once or twice our\nmen cried out, \"Land to the eastward!\" but whether it was the continent\nor islands we could not tell by any means.  But the third day, towards\nevening, the sea smooth, and the weather calm, we saw the sea as it were\ncovered towards the land with something very black; not being able to\ndiscover what it was till after some time, our chief mate, going up the\nmain shrouds a little way, and looking at them with a perspective, cried\nout it was an army.  I could not imagine what he meant by an army, and\nthwarted him a little hastily.  \"Nay, sir,\" says he, \"don't be angry, for\n'tis an army, and a fleet too: for I believe there are a thousand canoes,\nand you may see them paddle along, for they are coming towards us apace.\"\nI was a little surprised then, indeed, and so was my nephew the captain;\nfor he had heard such terrible stories of them in the island, and having\nnever been in those seas before, that he could not tell what to think of\nit, but said, two or three times, we should all be devoured.  I must\nconfess, considering we were becalmed, and the current set strong towards\nthe shore, I liked it the worse; however, I bade them not be afraid, but\nbring the ship to an anchor as soon as we came so near as to know that we\nmust engage them.  The weather continued calm, and they came on apace\ntowards us, so I gave orders to come to an anchor, and furl all our\nsails; as for the savages, I told them they had nothing to fear but fire,\nand therefore they should get their boats out, and fasten them, one close\nby the head and the other by the stern, and man them both well, and wait\nthe issue in that posture: this I did, that the men in the boats might he\nready with sheets and buckets to put out any fire these savages might\nendeavour to fix to the outside of the ship.\nIn this posture we lay by for them, and in a little while they came up\nwith us; but never was such a horrid sight seen by Christians; though my\nmate was much mistaken in his calculation of their number, yet when they\ncame up we reckoned about a hundred and twenty-six canoes; some of them\nhad sixteen or seventeen men in them, and some more, and the least six or\nseven.  When they came nearer to us, they seemed to be struck with wonder\nand astonishment, as at a sight which doubtless they had never seen\nbefore; nor could they at first, as we afterwards understood, know what\nto make of us; they came boldly up, however, very near to us, and seemed\nto go about to row round us; but we called to our men in the boats not to\nlet them come too near them.  This very order brought us to an engagement\nwith them, without our designing it; for five or six of the large canoes\ncame so near our long-boat, that our men beckoned with their hands to\nkeep them back, which they understood very well, and went back: but at\ntheir retreat about fifty arrows came on board us from those boats, and\none of our men in the long-boat was very much wounded.  However, I called\nto them not to fire by any means; but we handed down some deal boards\ninto the boat, and the carpenter presently set up a kind of fence, like\nwaste boards, to cover them from the arrows of the savages, if they\nshould shoot again.\nAbout half-an-hour afterwards they all came up in a body astern of us,\nand so near that we could easily discern what they were, though we could\nnot tell their design; and I easily found they were some of my old\nfriends, the same sort of savages that I had been used to engage with.  In\na short time more they rowed a little farther out to sea, till they came\ndirectly broadside with us, and then rowed down straight upon us, till\nthey came so near that they could hear us speak; upon this, I ordered all\nmy men to keep close, lest they should shoot any more arrows, and made\nall our guns ready; but being so near as to be within hearing, I made\nFriday go out upon the deck, and call out aloud to them in his language,\nto know what they meant.  Whether they understood him or not, that I knew\nnot; but as soon as he had called to them, six of them, who were in the\nforemost or nighest boat to us, turned their canoes from us, and stooping\ndown, showed us their naked backs; whether this was a defiance or\nchallenge we knew not, or whether it was done in mere contempt, or as a\nsignal to the rest; but immediately Friday cried out they were going to\nshoot, and, unhappily for him, poor fellow, they let fly about three\nhundred of their arrows, and to my inexpressible grief, killed poor\nFriday, no other man being in their sight.  The poor fellow was shot with\nno less than three arrows, and about three more fell very near him; such\nunlucky marksmen they were!\nI was so annoyed at the loss of my old trusty servant and companion, that\nI immediately ordered five guns to be loaded with small shot, and four\nwith great, and gave them such a broadside as they had never heard in\ntheir lives before.  They were not above half a cable's length off when\nwe fired; and our gunners took their aim so well, that three or four of\ntheir canoes were overset, as we had reason to believe, by one shot only.\nThe ill manners of turning up their bare backs to us gave us no great\noffence; neither did I know for certain whether that which would pass for\nthe greatest contempt among us might be understood so by them or not;\ntherefore, in return, I had only resolved to have fired four or five guns\nat them with powder only, which I knew would frighten them sufficiently:\nbut when they shot at us directly with all the fury they were capable of,\nand especially as they had killed my poor Friday, whom I so entirely\nloved and valued, and who, indeed, so well deserved it, I thought myself\nnot only justifiable before God and man, but would have been very glad if\nI could have overset every canoe there, and drowned every one of them.\nI can neither tell how many we killed nor how many we wounded at this\nbroadside, but sure such a fright and hurry never were seen among such a\nmultitude; there were thirteen or fourteen of their canoes split and\noverset in all, and the men all set a-swimming: the rest, frightened out\nof their wits, scoured away as fast as they could, taking but little care\nto save those whose boats were split or spoiled with our shot; so I\nsuppose that many of them were lost; and our men took up one poor fellow\nswimming for his life, above an hour after they were all gone.  The small\nshot from our cannon must needs kill and wound a great many; but, in\nshort, we never knew how it went with them, for they fled so fast, that\nin three hours or thereabouts we could not see above three or four\nstraggling canoes, nor did we ever see the rest any more; for a breeze of\nwind springing up the same evening, we weighed and set sail for the\nBrazils.\nWe had a prisoner, indeed, but the creature was so sullen that he would\nneither cat nor speak, and we all fancied he would starve himself to\ndeath.  But I took a way to cure him: for I had made them take him and\nturn him into the long-boat, and make him believe they would toss him\ninto the sea again, and so leave him where they found him, if he would\nnot speak; nor would that do, but they really did throw him into the sea,\nand came away from him.  Then he followed them, for he swam like a cork,\nand called to them in his tongue, though they knew not one word of what\nhe said; however at last they took him in again, and then he began to be\nmore tractable: nor did I ever design they should drown him.\nWe were now under sail again, but I was the most disconsolate creature\nalive for want of my man Friday, and would have been very glad to have\ngone back to the island, to have taken one of the rest from thence for my\noccasion, but it could not be: so we went on.  We had one prisoner, as I\nhave said, and it was a long time before we could make him understand\nanything; but in time our men taught him some English, and he began to be\na little tractable.  Afterwards, we inquired what country he came from;\nbut could make nothing of what he said; for his speech was so odd, all\ngutturals, and he spoke in the throat in such a hollow, odd manner, that\nwe could never form a word after him; and we were all of opinion that\nthey might speak that language as well if they were gagged as otherwise;\nnor could we perceive that they had any occasion either for teeth,\ntongue, lips, or palate, but formed their words just as a hunting-horn\nforms a tune with an open throat.  He told us, however, some time after,\nwhen we had taught him to speak a little English, that they were going\nwith their kings to fight a great battle.  When he said kings, we asked\nhim how many kings?  He said they were five nation (we could not make him\nunderstand the plural 's), and that they all joined to go against two\nnation.  We asked him what made them come up to us?  He said, \"To makee\nte great wonder look.\"  Here it is to be observed that all those natives,\nas also those of Africa when they learn English, always add two e's at\nthe end of the words where we use one; and they place the accent upon\nthem, as makee, takee, and the like; nay, I could hardly make Friday\nleave it off, though at last he did.\nAnd now I name the poor fellow once more, I must take my last leave of\nhim.  Poor honest Friday!  We buried him with all the decency and\nsolemnity possible, by putting him into a coffin, and throwing him into\nthe sea; and I caused them to fire eleven guns for him.  So ended the\nlife of the most grateful, faithful, honest, and most affectionate\nservant that ever man had.\nWe went now away with a fair wind for Brazil; and in about twelve days'\ntime we made land, in the latitude of five degrees south of the line,\nbeing the north-easternmost land of all that part of America.  We kept on\nS. by E., in sight of the shore four days, when we made Cape St.\nAugustine, and in three days came to an anchor off the bay of All Saints,\nthe old place of my deliverance, from whence came both my good and evil\nfate.  Never ship came to this port that had less business than I had,\nand yet it was with great difficulty that we were admitted to hold the\nleast correspondence on shore: not my partner himself, who was alive, and\nmade a great figure among them, not my two merchant-trustees, not the\nfame of my wonderful preservation in the island, could obtain me that\nfavour.  My partner, however, remembering that I had given five hundred\nmoidores to the prior of the monastery of the Augustines, and two hundred\nand seventy-two to the poor, went to the monastery, and obliged the prior\nthat then was to go to the governor, and get leave for me personally,\nwith the captain and one more, besides eight seamen, to come on shore,\nand no more; and this upon condition, absolutely capitulated for, that we\nshould not offer to land any goods out of the ship, or to carry any\nperson away without licence.  They were so strict with us as to landing\nany goods, that it was with extreme difficulty that I got on shore three\nbales of English goods, such as fine broadcloths, stuffs, and some linen,\nwhich I had brought for a present to my partner.\nHe was a very generous, open-hearted man, although he began, like me,\nwith little at first.  Though he knew not that I had the least design of\ngiving him anything, he sent me on board a present of fresh provisions,\nwine, and sweetmeats, worth about thirty moidores, including some\ntobacco, and three or four fine medals of gold: but I was even with him\nin my present, which, as I have said, consisted of fine broadcloth,\nEnglish stuffs, lace, and fine holland; also, I delivered him about the\nvalue of one hundred pounds sterling in the same goods, for other uses;\nand I obliged him to set up the sloop, which I had brought with me from\nEngland, as I have said, for the use of my colony, in order to send the\nrefreshments I intended to my plantation.\nAccordingly, he got hands, and finished the sloop in a very few days, for\nshe was already framed; and I gave the master of her such instructions\nthat he could not miss the place; nor did he, as I had an account from my\npartner afterwards.  I got him soon loaded with the small cargo I sent\nthem; and one of our seamen, that had been on shore with me there,\noffered to go with the sloop and settle there, upon my letter to the\ngovernor Spaniard to allot him a sufficient quantity of land for a\nplantation, and on my giving him some clothes and tools for his planting\nwork, which he said he understood, having been an old planter at\nMaryland, and a buccaneer into the bargain.  I encouraged the fellow by\ngranting all he desired; and, as an addition, I gave him the savage whom\nwe had taken prisoner of war to be his slave, and ordered the governor\nSpaniard to give him his share of everything he wanted with the rest.\nWhen we came to fit this man out, my old partner told me there was a\ncertain very honest fellow, a Brazil planter of his acquaintance, who had\nfallen into the displeasure of the Church.  \"I know not what the matter\nis with him,\" says he, \"but, on my conscience, I think he is a heretic in\nhis heart, and he has been obliged to conceal himself for fear of the\nInquisition.\" He then told me that he would be very glad of such an\nopportunity to make his escape, with his wife and two daughters; and if I\nwould let them go to my island, and allot them a plantation, he would\ngive them a small stock to begin with--for the officers of the\nInquisition had seized all his effects and estate, and he had nothing\nleft but a little household stuff and two slaves; \"and,\" adds he, \"though\nI hate his principles, yet I would not have him fall into their hands,\nfor he will be assuredly burned alive if he does.\"  I granted this\npresently, and joined my Englishman with them; and we concealed the man,\nand his wife and daughters, on board our ship, till the sloop put out to\ngo to sea; and then having put all their goods on board some time before,\nwe put them on board the sloop after she was got out of the bay.  Our\nseaman was mightily pleased with this new partner; and their stocks,\nindeed, were much alike, rich in tools, in preparations, and a farm--but\nnothing to begin with, except as above: however, they carried over with\nthem what was worth all the rest, some materials for planting\nsugar-canes, with some plants of canes, which he, I mean the Brazil\nplanter, understood very well.\nAmong the rest of the supplies sent to my tenants in the island, I sent\nthem by the sloop three milch cows and five calves; about twenty-two\nhogs, among them three sows; two mares, and a stone-horse.  For my\nSpaniards, according to my promise, I engaged three Brazil women to go,\nand recommended it to them to marry them, and use them kindly.  I could\nhave procured more women, but I remembered that the poor persecuted man\nhad two daughters, and that there were but five of the Spaniards that\nwanted partners; the rest had wives of their own, though in another\ncountry.  All this cargo arrived safe, and, as you may easily suppose,\nwas very welcome to my old inhabitants, who were now, with this addition,\nbetween sixty and seventy people, besides little children, of which there\nwere a great many.  I found letters at London from them all, by way of\nLisbon, when I came back to England.\nI have now done with the island, and all manner of discourse about it:\nand whoever reads the rest of my memorandums would do well to turn his\nthoughts entirely from it, and expect to read of the follies of an old\nman, not warned by his own harms, much less by those of other men, to\nbeware; not cooled by almost forty years' miseries and\ndisappointments--not satisfied with prosperity beyond expectation, nor\nmade cautious by afflictions and distress beyond example.\nCHAPTER IX--DREADFUL OCCURRENCES IN MADAGASCAR\nI had no more business to go to the East Indies than a man at full\nliberty has to go to the turnkey at Newgate, and desire him to lock him\nup among the prisoners there, and starve him.  Had I taken a small vessel\nfrom England and gone directly to the island; had I loaded her, as I did\nthe other vessel, with all the necessaries for the plantation and for my\npeople; taken a patent from the government here to have secured my\nproperty, in subjection only to that of England; had I carried over\ncannon and ammunition, servants and people to plant, and taken possession\nof the place, fortified and strengthened it in the name of England, and\nincreased it with people, as I might easily have done; had I then settled\nmyself there, and sent the ship back laden with good rice, as I might\nalso have done in six months' time, and ordered my friends to have fitted\nher out again for our supply--had I done this, and stayed there myself, I\nhad at least acted like a man of common sense.  But I was possessed of a\nwandering spirit, and scorned all advantages: I pleased myself with being\nthe patron of the people I placed there, and doing for them in a kind of\nhaughty, majestic way, like an old patriarchal monarch, providing for\nthem as if I had been father of the whole family, as well as of the\nplantation.  But I never so much as pretended to plant in the name of any\ngovernment or nation, or to acknowledge any prince, or to call my people\nsubjects to any one nation more than another; nay, I never so much as\ngave the place a name, but left it as I found it, belonging to nobody,\nand the people under no discipline or government but my own, who, though\nI had influence over them as a father and benefactor, had no authority or\npower to act or command one way or other, further than voluntary consent\nmoved them to comply.  Yet even this, had I stayed there, would have done\nwell enough; but as I rambled from them, and came there no more, the last\nletters I had from any of them were by my partner's means, who afterwards\nsent another sloop to the place, and who sent me word, though I had not\nthe letter till I got to London, several years after it was written, that\nthey went on but poorly; were discontented with their long stay there;\nthat Will Atkins was dead; that five of the Spaniards were come away; and\nthough they had not been much molested by the savages, yet they had had\nsome skirmishes with them; and that they begged of him to write to me to\nthink of the promise I had made to fetch them away, that they might see\ntheir country again before they died.\nBut I was gone a wildgoose chase indeed, and they that will have any more\nof me must be content to follow me into a new variety of follies,\nhardships, and wild adventures, wherein the justice of Providence may be\nduly observed; and we may see how easily Heaven can gorge us with our own\ndesires, make the strongest of our wishes be our affliction, and punish\nus most severely with those very things which we think it would be our\nutmost happiness to be allowed to possess.  Whether I had business or no\nbusiness, away I went: it is no time now to enlarge upon the reason or\nabsurdity of my own conduct, but to come to the history--I was embarked\nfor the voyage, and the voyage I went.\nI shall only add a word or two concerning my honest Popish clergyman, for\nlet their opinion of us, and all other heretics in general, as they call\nus, be as uncharitable as it may, I verily believe this man was very\nsincere, and wished the good of all men: yet I believe he used reserve in\nmany of his expressions, to prevent giving me offence; for I scarce heard\nhim once call on the Blessed Virgin, or mention St. Jago, or his guardian\nangel, though so common with the rest of them.  However, I say I had not\nthe least doubt of his sincerity and pious intentions; and I am firmly of\nopinion, if the rest of the Popish missionaries were like him, they would\nstrive to visit even the poor Tartars and Laplanders, where they have\nnothing to give them, as well as covet to flock to India, Persia, China,\n&c., the most wealthy of the heathen countries; for if they expected to\nbring no gains to their Church by it, it may well be admired how they\ncame to admit the Chinese Confucius into the calendar of the Christian\nsaints.\nA ship being ready to sail for Lisbon, my pious priest asked me leave to\ngo thither; being still, as he observed, bound never to finish any voyage\nhe began.  How happy it had been for me if I had gone with him.  But it\nwas too late now; all things Heaven appoints for the best: had I gone\nwith him I had never had so many things to be thankful for, and the\nreader had never heard of the second part of the travels and adventures\nof Robinson Crusoe: so I must here leave exclaiming at myself, and go on\nwith my voyage.  From the Brazils we made directly over the Atlantic Sea\nto the Cape of Good Hope, and had a tolerably good voyage, our course\ngenerally south-east, now and then a storm, and some contrary winds; but\nmy disasters at sea were at an end--my future rubs and cross events were\nto befall me on shore, that it might appear the land was as well prepared\nto be our scourge as the sea.\nOur ship was on a trading voyage, and had a supercargo on board, who was\nto direct all her motions after she arrived at the Cape, only being\nlimited to a certain number of days for stay, by charter-party, at the\nseveral ports she was to go to.  This was none of my business, neither\ndid I meddle with it; my nephew, the captain, and the supercargo\nadjusting all those things between them as they thought fit.  We stayed\nat the Cape no longer than was needful to take in-fresh water, but made\nthe best of our way for the coast of Coromandel.  We were, indeed,\ninformed that a French man-of-war, of fifty guns, and two large merchant\nships, were gone for the Indies; and as I knew we were at war with\nFrance, I had some apprehensions of them; but they went their own way,\nand we heard no more of them.\nI shall not pester the reader with a tedious description of places,\njournals of our voyage, variations of the compass, latitudes,\ntrade-winds, &c.; it is enough to name the ports and places which we\ntouched at, and what occurred to us upon our passages from one to\nanother.  We touched first at the island of Madagascar, where, though the\npeople are fierce and treacherous, and very well armed with lances and\nbows, which they use with inconceivable dexterity, yet we fared very well\nwith them a while.  They treated us very civilly; and for some trifles\nwhich we gave them, such as knives, scissors, &c., they brought us eleven\ngood fat bullocks, of a middling size, which we took in, partly for fresh\nprovisions for our present spending, and the rest to salt for the ship's\nuse.\nWe were obliged to stay here some time after we had furnished ourselves\nwith provisions; and I, who was always too curious to look into every\nnook of the world wherever I came, went on shore as often as I could.  It\nwas on the east side of the island that we went on shore one evening: and\nthe people, who, by the way, are very numerous, came thronging about us,\nand stood gazing at us at a distance.  As we had traded freely with them,\nand had been kindly used, we thought ourselves in no danger; but when we\nsaw the people, we cut three boughs out of a tree, and stuck them up at a\ndistance from us; which, it seems, is a mark in that country not only of\na truce and friendship, but when it is accepted the other side set up\nthree poles or boughs, which is a signal that they accept the truce too;\nbut then this is a known condition of the truce, that you are not to pass\nbeyond their three poles towards them, nor they to come past your three\npoles or boughs towards you; so that you are perfectly secure within the\nthree poles, and all the space between your poles and theirs is allowed\nlike a market for free converse, traffic, and commerce.  When you go\nthere you must not carry your weapons with you; and if they come into\nthat space they stick up their javelins and lances all at the first\npoles, and come on unarmed; but if any violence is offered them, and the\ntruce thereby broken, away they run to the poles, and lay hold of their\nweapons, and the truce is at an end.\nIt happened one evening, when we went on shore, that a greater number of\ntheir people came down than usual, but all very friendly and civil; and\nthey brought several kinds of provisions, for which we satisfied them\nwith such toys as we had; the women also brought us milk and roots, and\nseveral things very acceptable to us, and all was quiet; and we made us a\nlittle tent or hut of some boughs or trees, and lay on shore all night.  I\nknow not what was the occasion, but I was not so well satisfied to lie on\nshore as the rest; and the boat riding at an anchor at about a stone's\ncast from the land, with two men in her to take care of her, I made one\nof them come on shore; and getting some boughs of trees to cover us also\nin the boat, I spread the sail on the bottom of the boat, and lay under\nthe cover of the branches of the trees all night in the boat.\nAbout two o'clock in the morning we heard one of our men making a\nterrible noise on the shore, calling out, for God's sake, to bring the\nboat in and come and help them, for they were all like to be murdered;\nand at the same time I heard the fire of five muskets, which was the\nnumber of guns they had, and that three times over; for it seems the\nnatives here were not so easily frightened with guns as the savages were\nin America, where I had to do with them.  All this while, I knew not what\nwas the matter, but rousing immediately from sleep with the noise, I\ncaused the boat to be thrust in, and resolved with three fusees we had on\nboard to land and assist our men.  We got the boat soon to the shore, but\nour men were in too much haste; for being come to the shore, they plunged\ninto the water, to get to the boat with all the expedition they could,\nbeing pursued by between three and four hundred men.  Our men were but\nnine in all, and only five of them had fusees with them; the rest had\npistols and swords, indeed, but they were of small use to them.\nWe took up seven of our men, and with difficulty enough too, three of\nthem being very ill wounded; and that which was still worse was, that\nwhile we stood in the boat to take our men in, we were in as much danger\nas they were in on shore; for they poured their arrows in upon us so\nthick that we were glad to barricade the side of the boat up with the\nbenches, and two or three loose boards which, to our great satisfaction,\nwe had by mere accident in the boat.  And yet, had it been daylight, they\nare, it seems, such exact marksmen, that if they could have seen but the\nleast part of any of us, they would have been sure of us.  We had, by the\nlight of the moon, a little sight of them, as they stood pelting us from\nthe shore with darts and arrows; and having got ready our firearms, we\ngave them a volley that we could hear, by the cries of some of them, had\nwounded several; however, they stood thus in battle array on the shore\ntill break of day, which we supposed was that they might see the better\nto take their aim at us.\nIn this condition we lay, and could not tell how to weigh our anchor, or\nset up our sail, because we must needs stand up in the boat, and they\nwere as sure to hit us as we were to hit a bird in a tree with small\nshot.  We made signals of distress to the ship, and though she rode a\nleague off, yet my nephew, the captain, hearing our firing, and by\nglasses perceiving the posture we lay in, and that we fired towards the\nshore, pretty well understood us; and weighing anchor with all speed, he\nstood as near the shore as he durst with the ship, and then sent another\nboat with ten hands in her, to assist us.  We called to them not to come\ntoo near, telling them what condition we were in; however, they stood in\nnear to us, and one of the men taking the end of a tow-line in his hand,\nand keeping our boat between him and the enemy, so that they could not\nperfectly see him, swam on board us, and made fast the line to the boat:\nupon which we slipped out a little cable, and leaving our anchor behind,\nthey towed us out of reach of the arrows; we all the while lying close\nbehind the barricade we had made.  As soon as we were got from between\nthe ship and the shore, that we could lay her side to the shore, she ran\nalong just by them, and poured in a broadside among them, loaded with\npieces of iron and lead, small bullets, and such stuff, besides the great\nshot, which made a terrible havoc among them.\nWhen we were got on board and out of danger, we had time to examine into\nthe occasion of this fray; and indeed our supercargo, who had been often\nin those parts, put me upon it; for he said he was sure the inhabitants\nwould not have touched us after we had made a truce, if we had not done\nsomething to provoke them to it.  At length it came out that an old\nwoman, who had come to sell us some milk, had brought it within our\npoles, and a young woman with her, who also brought us some roots or\nherbs; and while the old woman (whether she was mother to the young woman\nor no they could not tell) was selling us the milk, one of our men\noffered some rudeness to the girl that was with her, at which the old\nwoman made a great noise: however, the seaman would not quit his prize,\nbut carried her out of the old woman's sight among the trees, it being\nalmost dark; the old woman went away without her, and, as we may suppose,\nmade an outcry among the people she came from; who, upon notice, raised\nthat great army upon us in three or four hours, and it was great odds but\nwe had all been destroyed.\nOne of our men was killed with a lance thrown at him just at the\nbeginning of the attack, as he sallied out of the tent they had made; the\nrest came off free, all but the fellow who was the occasion of all the\nmischief, who paid dear enough for his brutality, for we could not hear\nwhat became of him for a great while.  We lay upon the shore two days\nafter, though the wind presented, and made signals for him, and made our\nboat sail up shore and down shore several leagues, but in vain; so we\nwere obliged to give him over; and if he alone had suffered for it, the\nloss had been less.  I could not satisfy myself, however, without\nventuring on shore once more, to try if I could learn anything of him or\nthem; it was the third night after the action that I had a great mind to\nlearn, if I could by any means, what mischief we had done, and how the\ngame stood on the Indians' side.  I was careful to do it in the dark,\nlest we should be attacked again: but I ought indeed to have been sure\nthat the men I went with had been under my command, before I engaged in a\nthing so hazardous and mischievous as I was brought into by it, without\ndesign.\nWe took twenty as stout fellows with us as any in the ship, besides the\nsupercargo and myself, and we landed two hours before midnight, at the\nsame place where the Indians stood drawn up in the evening before.  I\nlanded here, because my design, as I have said, was chiefly to see if\nthey had quitted the field, and if they had left any marks behind them of\nthe mischief we had done them, and I thought if we could surprise one or\ntwo of them, perhaps we might get our man again, by way of exchange.\nWe landed without any noise, and divided our men into two bodies, whereof\nthe boatswain commanded one and I the other.  We neither saw nor heard\nanybody stir when we landed: and we marched up, one body at a distance\nfrom another, to the place.  At first we could see nothing, it being very\ndark; till by-and-by our boatswain, who led the first party, stumbled and\nfell over a dead body.  This made them halt a while; for knowing by the\ncircumstances that they were at the place where the Indians had stood,\nthey waited for my coming up there.  We concluded to halt till the moon\nbegan to rise, which we knew would be in less than an hour, when we could\neasily discern the havoc we had made among them.  We told thirty-two\nbodies upon the ground, whereof two were not quite dead; some had an arm\nand some a leg shot off, and one his head; those that were wounded, we\nsupposed, they had carried away.  When we had made, as I thought, a full\ndiscovery of all we could come to the knowledge of, I resolved on going\non board; but the boatswain and his party sent me word that they were\nresolved to make a visit to the Indian town, where these dogs, as they\ncalled them, dwelt, and asked me to go along with them; and if they could\nfind them, as they still fancied they should, they did not doubt of\ngetting a good booty; and it might be they might find Tom Jeffry there:\nthat was the man's name we had lost.\nHad they sent to ask my leave to go, I knew well enough what answer to\nhave given them; for I should have commanded them instantly on board,\nknowing it was not a hazard fit for us to run, who had a ship and ship-\nloading in our charge, and a voyage to make which depended very much upon\nthe lives of the men; but as they sent me word they were resolved to go,\nand only asked me and my company to go along with them, I positively\nrefused it, and rose up, for I was sitting on the ground, in order to go\nto the boat.  One or two of the men began to importune me to go; and when\nI refused, began to grumble, and say they were not under my command, and\nthey would go.  \"Come, Jack,\" says one of the men, \"will you go with me?\nI'll go for one.\"  Jack said he would--and then another--and, in a word,\nthey all left me but one, whom I persuaded to stay, and a boy left in the\nboat.  So the supercargo and I, with the third man, went back to the\nboat, where we told them we would stay for them, and take care to take in\nas many of them as should be left; for I told them it was a mad thing\nthey were going about, and supposed most of them would have the fate of\nTom Jeffry.\nThey told me, like seamen, they would warrant it they would come off\nagain, and they would take care, &c.; so away they went.  I entreated\nthem to consider the ship and the voyage, that their lives were not their\nown, and that they were entrusted with the voyage, in some measure; that\nif they miscarried, the ship might be lost for want of their help, and\nthat they could not answer for it to God or man.  But I might as well\nhave talked to the mainmast of the ship: they were mad upon their\njourney; only they gave me good words, and begged I would not be angry;\nthat they did not doubt but they would be back again in about an hour at\nfurthest; for the Indian town, they said, was not above half-a mile off,\nthough they found it above two miles before they got to it.\nWell, they all went away, and though the attempt was desperate, and such\nas none but madmen would have gone about, yet, to give them their due,\nthey went about it as warily as boldly; they were gallantly armed, for\nthey had every man a fusee or musket, a bayonet, and a pistol; some of\nthem had broad cutlasses, some of them had hangers, and the boatswain and\ntwo more had poleaxes; besides all which they had among them thirteen\nhand grenadoes.  Bolder fellows, and better provided, never went about\nany wicked work in the world.  When they went out their chief design was\nplunder, and they were in mighty hopes of finding gold there; but a\ncircumstance which none of them were aware of set them on fire with\nrevenge, and made devils of them all.\nWhen they came to the few Indian houses which they thought had been the\ntown, which was not above half a mile off, they were under great\ndisappointment, for there were not above twelve or thirteen houses, and\nwhere the town was, or how big, they knew not.  They consulted,\ntherefore, what to do, and were some time before they could resolve; for\nif they fell upon these, they must cut all their throats; and it was ten\nto one but some of them might escape, it being in the night, though the\nmoon was up; and if one escaped, he would run and raise all the town, so\nthey should have a whole army upon them; on the other hand, if they went\naway and left those untouched, for the people were all asleep, they could\nnot tell which way to look for the town; however, the last was the best\nadvice, so they resolved to leave them, and look for the town as well as\nthey could.  They went on a little way, and found a cow tied to a tree;\nthis, they presently concluded, would be a good guide to them; for, they\nsaid, the cow certainly belonged to the town before them, or the town\nbehind them, and if they untied her, they should see which way she went:\nif she went back, they had nothing to say to her; but if she went\nforward, they would follow her.  So they cut the cord, which was made of\ntwisted flags, and the cow went on before them, directly to the town;\nwhich, as they reported, consisted of above two hundred houses or huts,\nand in some of these they found several families living together.\nHere they found all in silence, as profoundly secure as sleep could make\nthem: and first, they called another council, to consider what they had\nto do; and presently resolved to divide themselves into three bodies, and\nso set three houses on fire in three parts of the town; and as the men\ncame out, to seize them and bind them (if any resisted, they need not be\nasked what to do then), and so to search the rest of the houses for\nplunder: but they resolved to march silently first through the town, and\nsee what dimensions it was of, and if they might venture upon it or no.\nThey did so, and desperately resolved that they would venture upon them:\nbut while they were animating one another to the work, three of them, who\nwere a little before the rest, called out aloud to them, and told them\nthat they had found--Tom Jeffry: they all ran up to the place, where they\nfound the poor fellow hanging up naked by one arm, and his throat cut.\nThere was an Indian house just by the tree, where they found sixteen or\nseventeen of the principal Indians, who had been concerned in the fray\nwith us before, and two or three of them wounded with our shot; and our\nmen found they were awake, and talking one to another in that house, but\nknew not their number.\nThe sight of their poor mangled comrade so enraged them, as before, that\nthey swore to one another that they would be revenged, and that not an\nIndian that came into their hands should have any quarter; and to work\nthey went immediately, and yet not so madly as might be expected from the\nrage and fury they were in.  Their first care was to get something that\nwould soon take fire, but, after a little search, they found that would\nbe to no purpose; for most of the houses were low, and thatched with\nflags and rushes, of which the country is full; so they presently made\nsome wildfire, as we call it, by wetting a little powder in the palm of\ntheir hands, and in a quarter of an hour they set the town on fire in\nfour or five places, and particularly that house where the Indians were\nnot gone to bed.\nAs soon as the fire begun to blaze, the poor frightened creatures began\nto rush out to save their lives, but met with their fate in the attempt;\nand especially at the door, where they drove them back, the boatswain\nhimself killing one or two with his poleaxe.  The house being large, and\nmany in it, he did not care to go in, but called for a hand grenado, and\nthrew it among them, which at first frightened them, but, when it burst,\nmade such havoc among them that they cried out in a hideous manner.  In\nshort, most of the Indians who were in the open part of the house were\nkilled or hurt with the grenado, except two or three more who pressed to\nthe door, which the boatswain and two more kept, with their bayonets on\nthe muzzles of their pieces, and despatched all that came in their way;\nbut there was another apartment in the house, where the prince or king,\nor whatever he was, and several others were; and these were kept in till\nthe house, which was by this time all in a light flame, fell in upon\nthem, and they were smothered together.\nAll this while they fired not a gun, because they would not waken the\npeople faster than they could master them; but the fire began to waken\nthem fast enough, and our fellows were glad to keep a little together in\nbodies; for the fire grew so raging, all the houses being made of light\ncombustible stuff, that they could hardly bear the street between them.\nTheir business was to follow the fire, for the surer execution: as fast\nas the fire either forced the people out of those houses which were\nburning, or frightened them out of others, our people were ready at their\ndoors to knock them on the head, still calling and hallooing one to\nanother to remember Tom Jeffry.\nWhile this was doing, I must confess I was very uneasy, and especially\nwhen I saw the flames of the town, which, it being night, seemed to be\nclose by me.  My nephew, the captain, who was roused by his men seeing\nsuch a fire, was very uneasy, not knowing what the matter was, or what\ndanger I was in, especially hearing the guns too, for by this time they\nbegan to use their firearms; a thousand thoughts oppressed his mind\nconcerning me and the supercargo, what would become of us; and at last,\nthough he could ill spare any more men, yet not knowing what exigence we\nmight be in, he took another boat, and with thirteen men and himself came\nashore to me.\nHe was surprised to see me and the supercargo in the boat with no more\nthan two men; and though he was glad that we were well, yet he was in the\nsame impatience with us to know what was doing; for the noise continued,\nand the flame increased; in short, it was next to an impossibility for\nany men in the world to restrain their curiosity to know what had\nhappened, or their concern for the safety of the men: in a word, the\ncaptain told me he would go and help his men, let what would come.  I\nargued with him, as I did before with the men, the safety of the ship,\nthe danger of the voyage, the interests of the owners and merchants, &c.,\nand told him I and the two men would go, and only see if we could at a\ndistance learn what was likely to be the event, and come back and tell\nhim.  It was in vain to talk to my nephew, as it was to talk to the rest\nbefore; he would go, he said; and he only wished he had left but ten men\nin the ship, for he could not think of having his men lost for want of\nhelp: he had rather lose the ship, the voyage, and his life, and all; and\naway he went.\nI was no more able to stay behind now than I was to persuade them not to\ngo; so the captain ordered two men to row back the pinnace, and fetch\ntwelve men more, leaving the long-boat at an anchor; and that, when they\ncame back, six men should keep the two boats, and six more come after us;\nso that he left only sixteen men in the ship: for the whole ship's\ncompany consisted of sixty-five men, whereof two were lost in the late\nquarrel which brought this mischief on.\nBeing now on the march, we felt little of the ground we trod on; and\nbeing guided by the fire, we kept no path, but went directly to the place\nof the flame.  If the noise of the guns was surprising to us before, the\ncries of the poor people were now quite of another nature, and filled us\nwith horror.  I must confess I was never at the sacking a city, or at the\ntaking a town by storm.  I had heard of Oliver Cromwell taking Drogheda,\nin Ireland, and killing man, woman, and child; and I had read of Count\nTilly sacking the city of Magdeburg and cutting the throats of twenty-two\nthousand of all sexes; but I never had an idea of the thing itself\nbefore, nor is it possible to describe it, or the horror that was upon\nour minds at hearing it.  However, we went on, and at length came to the\ntown, though there was no entering the streets of it for the fire.  The\nfirst object we met with was the ruins of a hut or house, or rather the\nashes of it, for the house was consumed; and just before it, plainly now\nto be seen by the light of the fire, lay four men and three women,\nkilled, and, as we thought, one or two more lay in the heap among the\nfire; in short, there were such instances of rage, altogether barbarous,\nand of a fury something beyond what was human, that we thought it\nimpossible our men could be guilty of it; or, if they were the authors of\nit, we thought they ought to be every one of them put to the worst of\ndeaths.  But this was not all: we saw the fire increase forward, and the\ncry went on just as the fire went on; so that we were in the utmost\nconfusion.  We advanced a little way farther, and behold, to our\nastonishment, three naked women, and crying in a most dreadful manner,\ncame flying as if they had wings, and after them sixteen or seventeen\nmen, natives, in the same terror and consternation, with three of our\nEnglish butchers in the rear, who, when they could not overtake them,\nfired in among them, and one that was killed by their shot fell down in\nour sight.  When the rest saw us, believing us to be their enemies, and\nthat we would murder them as well as those that pursued them, they set up\na most dreadful shriek, especially the women; and two of them fell down,\nas if already dead, with the fright.\nMy very soul shrunk within me, and my blood ran chill in my veins, when I\nsaw this; and, I believe, had the three English sailors that pursued them\ncome on, I had made our men kill them all; however, we took some means to\nlet the poor flying creatures know that we would not hurt them; and\nimmediately they came up to us, and kneeling down, with their hands\nlifted up, made piteous lamentation to us to save them, which we let them\nknow we would: whereupon they crept all together in a huddle close behind\nus, as for protection.  I left my men drawn up together, and, charging\nthem to hurt nobody, but, if possible, to get at some of our people, and\nsee what devil it was possessed them, and what they intended to do, and\nto command them off; assuring them that if they stayed till daylight they\nwould have a hundred thousand men about their ears: I say I left them,\nand went among those flying people, taking only two of our men with me;\nand there was, indeed, a piteous spectacle among them.  Some of them had\ntheir feet terribly burned with trampling and running through the fire;\nothers their hands burned; one of the women had fallen down in the fire,\nand was very much burned before she could get out again; and two or three\nof the men had cuts in their backs and thighs, from our men pursuing; and\nanother was shot through the body and died while I was there.\nI would fain have learned what the occasion of all this was; but I could\nnot understand one word they said; though, by signs, I perceived some of\nthem knew not what was the occasion themselves.  I was so terrified in my\nthoughts at this outrageous attempt that I could not stay there, but went\nback to my own men, and resolved to go into the middle of the town,\nthrough the fire, or whatever might be in the way, and put an end to it,\ncost what it would; accordingly, as I came back to my men, I told them my\nresolution, and commanded them to follow me, when, at the very moment,\ncame four of our men, with the boatswain at their head, roving over heaps\nof bodies they had killed, all covered with blood and dust, as if they\nwanted more people to massacre, when our men hallooed to them as loud as\nthey could halloo; and with much ado one of them made them hear, so that\nthey knew who we were, and came up to us.\nAs soon as the boatswain saw us, he set up a halloo like a shout of\ntriumph, for having, as he thought, more help come; and without waiting\nto hear me, \"Captain,\" says he, \"noble captain!  I am glad you are come;\nwe have not half done yet.  Villainous hell-hound dogs!  I'll kill as\nmany of them as poor Tom has hairs upon his head: we have sworn to spare\nnone of them; we'll root out the very nation of them from the earth;\" and\nthus he ran on, out of breath, too, with action, and would not give us\nleave to speak a word.  At last, raising my voice that I might silence\nhim a little, \"Barbarous dog!\" said I, \"what are you doing!  I won't have\none creature touched more, upon pain of death; I charge you, upon your\nlife, to stop your hands, and stand still here, or you are a dead man\nthis minute.\"--\"Why, sir,\" says he, \"do you know what you do, or what\nthey have done?  If you want a reason for what we have done, come\nhither;\" and with that he showed me the poor fellow hanging, with his\nthroat cut.\nI confess I was urged then myself, and at another time would have been\nforward enough; but I thought they had carried their rage too far, and\nremembered Jacob's words to his sons Simeon and Levi: \"Cursed be their\nanger, for it was fierce; and their wrath, for it was cruel.\"  But I had\nnow a new task upon my hands; for when the men I had carried with me saw\nthe sight, as I had done, I had as much to do to restrain them as I\nshould have had with the others; nay, my nephew himself fell in with\nthem, and told me, in their hearing, that he was only concerned for fear\nof the men being overpowered; and as to the people, he thought not one of\nthem ought to live; for they had all glutted themselves with the murder\nof the poor man, and that they ought to be used like murderers.  Upon\nthese words, away ran eight of my men, with the boatswain and his crew,\nto complete their bloody work; and I, seeing it quite out of my power to\nrestrain them, came away pensive and sad; for I could not bear the sight,\nmuch less the horrible noise and cries of the poor wretches that fell\ninto their hands.\nI got nobody to come back with me but the supercargo and two men, and\nwith these walked back to the boat.  It was a very great piece of folly\nin me, I confess, to venture back, as it were, alone; for as it began now\nto be almost day, and the alarm had run over the country, there stood\nabout forty men armed with lances and boughs at the little place where\nthe twelve or thirteen houses stood, mentioned before: but by accident I\nmissed the place, and came directly to the seaside, and by the time I got\nto the seaside it was broad day: immediately I took the pinnace and went\non board, and sent her back to assist the men in what might happen.  I\nobserved, about the time that I came to the boat-side, that the fire was\npretty well out, and the noise abated; but in about half-an-hour after I\ngot on board, I heard a volley of our men's firearms, and saw a great\nsmoke.  This, as I understood afterwards, was our men falling upon the\nmen, who, as I said, stood at the few houses on the way, of whom they\nkilled sixteen or seventeen, and set all the houses on fire, but did not\nmeddle with the women or children.\nBy the time the men got to the shore again with the pinnace our men began\nto appear; they came dropping in, not in two bodies as they went, but\nstraggling here and there in such a manner, that a small force of\nresolute men might have cut them all off.  But the dread of them was upon\nthe whole country; and the men were surprised, and so frightened, that I\nbelieve a hundred of them would have fled at the sight of but five of our\nmen.  Nor in all this terrible action was there a man that made any\nconsiderable defence: they were so surprised between the terror of the\nfire and the sudden attack of our men in the dark, that they knew not\nwhich way to turn themselves; for if they fled one way they were met by\none party, if back again by another, so that they were everywhere knocked\ndown; nor did any of our men receive the least hurt, except one that\nsprained his foot, and another that had one of his hands burned.\nCHAPTER X--HE IS LEFT ON SHORE\nI was very angry with my nephew, the captain, and indeed with all the\nmen, but with him in particular, as well for his acting so out of his\nduty as a commander of the ship, and having the charge of the voyage upon\nhim, as in his prompting, rather than cooling, the rage of his blind men\nin so bloody and cruel an enterprise.  My nephew answered me very\nrespectfully, but told me that when he saw the body of the poor seaman\nwhom they had murdered in so cruel and barbarous a manner, he was not\nmaster of himself, neither could he govern his passion; he owned he\nshould not have done so, as he was commander of the ship; but as he was a\nman, and nature moved him, he could not bear it.  As for the rest of the\nmen, they were not subject to me at all, and they knew it well enough; so\nthey took no notice of my dislike.  The next day we set sail, so we never\nheard any more of it.  Our men differed in the account of the number they\nhad killed; but according to the best of their accounts, put all\ntogether, they killed or destroyed about one hundred and fifty people,\nmen, women, and children, and left not a house standing in the town.  As\nfor the poor fellow Tom Jeffry, as he was quite dead (for his throat was\nso cut that his head was half off), it would do him no service to bring\nhim away; so they only took him down from the tree, where he was hanging\nby one hand.\nHowever just our men thought this action, I was against them in it, and I\nalways, after that time, told them God would blast the voyage; for I\nlooked upon all the blood they shed that night to be murder in them.  For\nthough it is true that they had killed Tom Jeffry, yet Jeffry was the\naggressor, had broken the truce, and had ill-used a young woman of\ntheirs, who came down to them innocently, and on the faith of the public\ncapitulation.\nThe boatswain defended this quarrel when we were afterwards on board.  He\nsaid it was true that we seemed to break the truce, but really had not;\nand that the war was begun the night before by the natives themselves,\nwho had shot at us, and killed one of our men without any just\nprovocation; so that as we were in a capacity to fight them now, we might\nalso be in a capacity to do ourselves justice upon them in an\nextraordinary manner; that though the poor man had taken a little liberty\nwith the girl, he ought not to have been murdered, and that in such a\nvillainous manner: and that they did nothing but what was just and what\nthe laws of God allowed to be done to murderers.  One would think this\nshould have been enough to have warned us against going on shore amongst\nthe heathens and barbarians; but it is impossible to make mankind wise\nbut at their own expense, and their experience seems to be always of most\nuse to them when it is dearest bought.\nWe were now bound to the Gulf of Persia, and from thence to the coast of\nCoromandel, only to touch at Surat; but the chief of the supercargo's\ndesign lay at the Bay of Bengal, where, if he missed his business outward-\nbound, he was to go out to China, and return to the coast as he came\nhome.  The first disaster that befell us was in the Gulf of Persia, where\nfive of our men, venturing on shore on the Arabian side of the gulf, were\nsurrounded by the Arabians, and either all killed or carried away into\nslavery; the rest of the boat's crew were not able to rescue them, and\nhad but just time to get off their boat.  I began to upbraid them with\nthe just retribution of Heaven in this case; but the boatswain very\nwarmly told me, he thought I went further in my censures than I could\nshow any warrant for in Scripture; and referred to Luke xiii. 4, where\nour Saviour intimates that those men on whom the Tower of Siloam fell\nwere not sinners above all the Galileans; but that which put me to\nsilence in the case was, that not one of these five men who were now lost\nwere of those who went on shore to the massacre of Madagascar, so I\nalways called it, though our men could not bear to hear the word\n_massacre_ with any patience.\nBut my frequent preaching to them on this subject had worse consequences\nthan I expected; and the boatswain, who had been the head of the attempt,\ncame up boldly to me one time, and told me he found that I brought that\naffair continually upon the stage; that I made unjust reflections upon\nit, and had used the men very ill on that account, and himself in\nparticular; that as I was but a passenger, and had no command in the\nship, or concern in the voyage, they were not obliged to bear it; that\nthey did not know but I might have some ill-design in my head, and\nperhaps to call them to an account for it when they came to England; and\nthat, therefore, unless I would resolve to have done with it, and also\nnot to concern myself any further with him, or any of his affairs, he\nwould leave the ship; for he did not think it safe to sail with me among\nthem.\nI heard him patiently enough till he had done, and then told him that I\nconfessed I had all along opposed the massacre of Madagascar, and that I\nhad, on all occasions, spoken my mind freely about it, though not more\nupon him than any of the rest; that as to having no command in the ship,\nthat was true; nor did I exercise any authority, only took the liberty of\nspeaking my mind in things which publicly concerned us all; and what\nconcern I had in the voyage was none of his business; that I was a\nconsiderable owner in the ship.  In that claim I conceived I had a right\nto speak even further than I had done, and would not be accountable to\nhim or any one else, and began to be a little warm with him.  He made but\nlittle reply to me at that time, and I thought the affair had been over.\nWe were at this time in the road at Bengal; and being willing to see the\nplace, I went on shore with the supercargo in the ship's boat to divert\nmyself; and towards evening was preparing to go on board, when one of the\nmen came to me, and told me he would not have me trouble myself to come\ndown to the boat, for they had orders not to carry me on board any more.\nAny one may guess what a surprise I was in at so insolent a message; and\nI asked the man who bade him deliver that message to me?  He told me the\ncoxswain.\nI immediately found out the supercargo, and told him the story, adding\nthat I foresaw there would be a mutiny in the ship; and entreated him to\ngo immediately on board and acquaint the captain of it.  But I might have\nspared this intelligence, for before I had spoken to him on shore the\nmatter was effected on board.  The boatswain, the gunner, the carpenter,\nand all the inferior officers, as soon as I was gone off in the boat,\ncame up, and desired to speak with the captain; and then the boatswain,\nmaking a long harangue, and repeating all he had said to me, told the\ncaptain that as I was now gone peaceably on shore, they were loath to use\nany violence with me, which, if I had not gone on shore, they would\notherwise have done, to oblige me to have gone.  They therefore thought\nfit to tell him that as they shipped themselves to serve in the ship\nunder his command, they would perform it well and faithfully; but if I\nwould not quit the ship, or the captain oblige me to quit it, they would\nall leave the ship, and sail no further with him; and at that word _all_\nhe turned his face towards the main-mast, which was, it seems, a signal\nagreed on, when the seamen, being got together there, cried out, \"_One\nand all_! _one and all_!\"\nMy nephew, the captain, was a man of spirit, and of great presence of\nmind; and though he was surprised, yet he told them calmly that he would\nconsider of the matter, but that he could do nothing in it till he had\nspoken to me about it.  He used some arguments with them, to show them\nthe unreasonableness and injustice of the thing, but it was all in vain;\nthey swore, and shook hands round before his face, that they would all go\non shore unless he would engage to them not to suffer me to come any more\non board the ship.\nThis was a hard article upon him, who knew his obligation to me, and did\nnot know how I might take it.  So he began to talk smartly to them; told\nthem that I was a very considerable owner of the ship, and that if ever\nthey came to England again it would cost them very dear; that the ship\nwas mine, and that he could not put me out of it; and that he would\nrather lose the ship, and the voyage too, than disoblige me so much: so\nthey might do as they pleased.  However, he would go on shore and talk\nwith me, and invited the boatswain to go with him, and perhaps they might\naccommodate the matter with me.  But they all rejected the proposal, and\nsaid they would have nothing to do with me any more; and if I came on\nboard they would all go on shore.  \"Well,\" said the captain, \"if you are\nall of this mind, let me go on shore and talk with him.\"  So away he came\nto me with this account, a little after the message had been brought to\nme from the coxswain.\nI was very glad to see my nephew, I must confess; for I was not without\napprehensions that they would confine him by violence, set sail, and run\naway with the ship; and then I had been stripped naked in a remote\ncountry, having nothing to help myself; in short, I had been in a worse\ncase than when I was alone in the island.  But they had not come to that\nlength, it seems, to my satisfaction; and when my nephew told me what\nthey had said to him, and how they had sworn and shook hands that they\nwould, one and all, leave the ship if I was suffered to come on board, I\ntold him he should not be concerned at it at all, for I would stay on\nshore.  I only desired he would take care and send me all my necessary\nthings on shore, and leave me a sufficient sum of money, and I would find\nmy way to England as well as I could.  This was a heavy piece of news to\nmy nephew, but there was no way to help it but to comply; so, in short,\nhe went on board the ship again, and satisfied the men that his uncle had\nyielded to their importunity, and had sent for his goods from on board\nthe ship; so that the matter was over in a few hours, the men returned to\ntheir duty, and I began to consider what course I should steer.\nI was now alone in a most remote part of the world, for I was near three\nthousand leagues by sea farther off from England than I was at my island;\nonly, it is true, I might travel here by land over the Great Mogul's\ncountry to Surat, might go from thence to Bassora by sea, up the Gulf of\nPersia, and take the way of the caravans, over the desert of Arabia, to\nAleppo and Scanderoon; from thence by sea again to Italy, and so overland\ninto France.  I had another way before me, which was to wait for some\nEnglish ships, which were coming to Bengal from Achin, on the island of\nSumatra, and get passage on board them from England.  But as I came\nhither without any concern with the East Indian Company, so it would be\ndifficult to go from hence without their licence, unless with great\nfavour of the captains of the ships, or the company's factors: and to\nboth I was an utter stranger.\nHere I had the mortification to see the ship set sail without me;\nhowever, my nephew left me two servants, or rather one companion and one\nservant; the first was clerk to the purser, whom he engaged to go with\nme, and the other was his own servant.  I then took a good lodging in the\nhouse of an Englishwoman, where several merchants lodged, some French,\ntwo Italians, or rather Jews, and one Englishman.  Here I stayed above\nnine months, considering what course to take.  I had some English goods\nwith me of value, and a considerable sum of money; my nephew furnishing\nme with a thousand pieces of eight, and a letter of credit for more if I\nhad occasion, that I might not be straitened, whatever might happen.  I\nquickly disposed of my goods to advantage; and, as I originally intended,\nI bought here some very good diamonds, which, of all other things, were\nthe most proper for me in my present circumstances, because I could\nalways carry my whole estate about me.\nDuring my stay here many proposals were made for my return to England,\nbut none falling out to my mind, the English merchant who lodged with me,\nand whom I had contracted an intimate acquaintance with, came to me one\nmorning, saying: \"Countryman, I have a project to communicate, which, as\nit suits with my thoughts, may, for aught I know, suit with yours also,\nwhen you shall have thoroughly considered it.  Here we are posted, you by\naccident and I by my own choice, in a part of the world very remote from\nour own country; but it is in a country where, by us who understand trade\nand business, a great deal of money is to be got.  If you will put one\nthousand pounds to my one thousand pounds, we will hire a ship here, the\nfirst we can get to our minds.  You shall be captain, I'll be merchant,\nand we'll go a trading voyage to China; for what should we stand still\nfor?  The whole world is in motion; why should we be idle?\"\nI liked this proposal very well; and the more so because it seemed to be\nexpressed with so much goodwill.  In my loose, unhinged circumstances, I\nwas the fitter to embrace a proposal for trade, or indeed anything else.\nI might perhaps say with some truth, that if trade was not my element,\nrambling was; and no proposal for seeing any part of the world which I\nhad never seen before could possibly come amiss to me.  It was, however,\nsome time before we could get a ship to our minds, and when we had got a\nvessel, it was not easy to get English sailors--that is to say, so many\nas were necessary to govern the voyage and manage the sailors which we\nshould pick up there.  After some time we got a mate, a boatswain, and a\ngunner, English; a Dutch carpenter, and three foremast men.  With these\nwe found we could do well enough, having Indian seamen, such as they\nwere, to make up.\nWhen all was ready we set sail for Achin, in the island of Sumatra, and\nfrom thence to Siam, where we exchanged some of our wares for opium and\nsome arrack; the first a commodity which bears a great price among the\nChinese, and which at that time was much wanted there.  Then we went up\nto Saskan, were eight months out, and on our return to Bengal I was very\nwell satisfied with my adventure.  Our people in England often admire how\nofficers, which the company send into India, and the merchants which\ngenerally stay there, get such very great estates as they do, and\nsometimes come home worth sixty or seventy thousand pounds at a time; but\nit is little matter for wonder, when we consider the innumerable ports\nand places where they have a free commerce; indeed, at the ports where\nthe English ships come there is such great and constant demands for the\ngrowth of all other countries, that there is a certain vent for the\nreturns, as well as a market abroad for the goods carried out.\nI got so much money by my first adventure, and such an insight into the\nmethod of getting more, that had I been twenty years younger, I should\nhave been tempted to have stayed here, and sought no farther for making\nmy fortune; but what was all this to a man upwards of threescore, that\nwas rich enough, and came abroad more in obedience to a restless desire\nof seeing the world than a covetous desire of gaining by it?  A restless\ndesire it really was, for when I was at home I was restless to go abroad;\nand when I was abroad I was restless to be at home.  I say, what was this\ngain to me?  I was rich enough already, nor had I any uneasy desires\nabout getting more money; therefore the profit of the voyage to me was of\nno great force for the prompting me forward to further undertakings.\nHence, I thought that by this voyage I had made no progress at all,\nbecause I was come back, as I might call it, to the place from whence I\ncame, as to a home: whereas, my eye, like that which Solomon speaks of,\nwas never satisfied with seeing.  I was come into a part of the world\nwhich I was never in before, and that part, in particular, which I heard\nmuch of, and was resolved to see as much of it as I could: and then I\nthought I might say I had seen all the world that was worth seeing.\nBut my fellow-traveller and I had different notions: I acknowledge his\nwere the more suited to the end of a merchant's life: who, when he is\nabroad upon adventures, is wise to stick to that, as the best thing for\nhim, which he is likely to get the most money by.  On the other hand,\nmine was the notion of a mad, rambling boy, that never cares to see a\nthing twice over.  But this was not all: I had a kind of impatience upon\nme to be nearer home, and yet an unsettled resolution which way to go.  In\nthe interval of these consultations, my friend, who was always upon the\nsearch for business, proposed another voyage among the Spice Islands, to\nbring home a loading of cloves from the Manillas, or thereabouts.\nWe were not long in preparing for this voyage; the chief difficulty was\nin bringing me to come into it.  However, at last, nothing else offering,\nand as sitting still, to me especially, was the unhappiest part of life,\nI resolved on this voyage too, which we made very successfully, touching\nat Borneo and several other islands, and came home in about five months,\nwhen we sold our spices, with very great profit, to the Persian\nmerchants, who carried them away to the Gulf.  My friend, when we made up\nthis account, smiled at me: \"Well, now,\" said he, with a sort of friendly\nrebuke on my indolent temper, \"is not this better than walking about\nhere, like a man with nothing to do, and spending our time in staring at\nthe nonsense and ignorance of the Pagans?\"--\"Why, truly,\" said I, \"my\nfriend, I think it is, and I begin to be a convert to the principles of\nmerchandising; but I must tell you, by the way, you do not know what I am\ndoing; for if I once conquer my backwardness, and embark heartily, old as\nI am, I shall harass you up and down the world till I tire you; for I\nshall pursue it so eagerly, I shall never let you lie still.\"\nCHAPTER XI--WARNED OF DANGER BY A COUNTRYMAN\nA little while after this there came in a Dutch ship from Batavia; she\nwas a coaster, not an European trader, of about two hundred tons burden;\nthe men, as they pretended, having been so sickly that the captain had\nnot hands enough to go to sea with, so he lay by at Bengal; and having,\nit seems, got money enough, or being willing, for other reasons, to go\nfor Europe, he gave public notice he would sell his ship.  This came to\nmy ears before my new partner heard of it, and I had a great mind to buy\nit; so I went to him and told him of it.  He considered a while, for he\nwas no rash man neither; and at last replied, \"She is a little too\nbig--however, we will have her.\"  Accordingly, we bought the ship, and\nagreeing with the master, we paid for her, and took possession.  When we\nhad done so we resolved to engage the men, if we could, to join with\nthose we had, for the pursuing our business; but, on a sudden, they\nhaving received not their wages, but their share of the money, as we\nafterwards learned, not one of them was to be found; we inquired much\nabout them, and at length were told that they were all gone together by\nland to Agra, the great city of the Mogul's residence, to proceed from\nthence to Surat, and then go by sea to the Gulf of Persia.\nNothing had so much troubled me a good while as that I should miss the\nopportunity of going with them; for such a ramble, I thought, and in such\ncompany as would both have guarded and diverted me, would have suited\nmightily with my great design; and I should have both seen the world and\ngone homeward too.  But I was much better satisfied a few days after,\nwhen I came to know what sort of fellows they were; for, in short, their\nhistory was, that this man they called captain was the gunner only, not\nthe commander; that they had been a trading voyage, in which they had\nbeen attacked on shore by some of the Malays, who had killed the captain\nand three of his men; and that after the captain was killed, these men,\neleven in number, having resolved to run away with the ship, brought her\nto Bengal, leaving the mate and five men more on shore.\nWell, let them get the ship how they would, we came honestly by her, as\nwe thought, though we did not, I confess, examine into things so exactly\nas we ought; for we never inquired anything of the seamen, who would\ncertainly have faltered in their account, and contradicted one another.\nSomehow or other we should have had reason to have suspected, them; but\nthe man showed us a bill of sale for the ship, to one Emanuel\nClostershoven, or some such name, for I suppose it was all a forgery, and\ncalled himself by that name, and we could not contradict him: and withal,\nhaving no suspicion of the thing, we went through with our bargain.  We\npicked up some more English sailors here after this, and some Dutch, and\nnow we resolved on a second voyage to the south-east for cloves, &c.--that\nis to say, among the Philippine and Malacca isles.  In short, not to fill\nup this part of my story with trifles when what is to come is so\nremarkable, I spent, from first to last, six years in this country,\ntrading from port to port, backward and forward, and with very good\nsuccess, and was now the last year with my new partner, going in the ship\nabove mentioned, on a voyage to China, but designing first to go to Siam\nto buy rice.\nIn this voyage, being by contrary winds obliged to beat up and down a\ngreat while in the Straits of Malacca and among the islands, we were no\nsooner got clear of those difficult seas than we found our ship had\nsprung a leak, but could not discover where it was.  This forced us to\nmake some port; and my partner, who knew the country better than I did,\ndirected the captain to put into the river of Cambodia; for I had made\nthe English mate, one Mr. Thompson, captain, not being willing to take\nthe charge of the ship upon myself.  This river lies on the north side of\nthe great bay or gulf which goes up to Siam.  While we were here, and\ngoing often on shore for refreshment, there comes to me one day an\nEnglishman, a gunner's mate on board an English East India ship, then\nriding in the same river.  \"Sir,\" says he, addressing me, \"you are a\nstranger to me, and I to you; but I have something to tell you that very\nnearly concerns you.  I am moved by the imminent danger you are in, and,\nfor aught I see, you have no knowledge of it.\"--\"I know no danger I am\nin,\" said I, \"but that my ship is leaky, and I cannot find it out; but I\nintend to lay her aground to-morrow, to see if I can find it.\"--\"But,\nsir,\" says he, \"leaky or not leaky, you will be wiser than to lay your\nship on shore to-morrow when you hear what I have to say to you.  Do you\nknow, sir,\" said he, \"the town of Cambodia lies about fifteen leagues up\nthe river; and there are two large English ships about five leagues on\nthis side, and three Dutch?\"--\"Well,\" said I, \"and what is that to\nme?\"--\"Why, sir,\" said be, \"is it for a man that is upon such adventures\nas you are to come into a port, and not examine first what ships there\nare there, and whether he is able to deal with them?  I suppose you do\nnot think you are a match for them?\"  I could not conceive what he meant;\nand I turned short upon him, and said: \"I wish you would explain\nyourself; I cannot imagine what reason I have to be afraid of any of the\ncompany's ships, or Dutch ships.  I am no interloper.  What can they have\nto say to me?\"--\"Well, sir,\" says he, with a smile, \"if you think\nyourself secure you must take your chance; but take my advice, if you do\nnot put to sea immediately, you will the very next tide be attacked by\nfive longboats full of men, and perhaps if you are taken you will be\nhanged for a pirate, and the particulars be examined afterwards.  I\nthought, sir,\" added he, \"I should have met with a better reception than\nthis for doing you a piece of service of such importance.\"--\"I can never\nbe ungrateful,\" said I, \"for any service, or to any man that offers me\nany kindness; but it is past my comprehension what they should have such\na design upon me for: however, since you say there is no time to be lost,\nand that there is some villainous design on hand against me, I will go on\nboard this minute, and put to sea immediately, if my men can stop the\nleak; but, sir,\" said I, \"shall I go away ignorant of the cause of all\nthis?  Can you give me no further light into it?\"\n\"I can tell you but part of the story, sir,\" says he; \"but I have a Dutch\nseaman here with me, and I believe I could persuade him to tell you the\nrest; but there is scarce time for it.  But the short of the story is\nthis--the first part of which I suppose you know well enough--that you\nwere with this ship at Sumatra; that there your captain was murdered by\nthe Malays, with three of his men; and that you, or some of those that\nwere on board with you, ran away with the ship, and are since turned\npirates.  This is the sum of the story, and you will all be seized as\npirates, I can assure you, and executed with very little ceremony; for\nyou know merchant ships show but little law to pirates if they get them\ninto their power.\"--\"Now you speak plain English,\" said I, \"and I thank\nyou; and though I know nothing that we have done like what you talk of,\nfor I am sure we came honestly and fairly by the ship; yet seeing such a\nwork is doing, as you say, and that you seem to mean honestly, I will be\nupon my guard.\"--\"Nay, sir,\" says he, \"do not talk of being upon your\nguard; the best defence is to be out of danger.  If you have any regard\nfor your life and the lives of all your men, put to sea without fail at\nhigh-water; and as you have a whole tide before you, you will be gone too\nfar out before they can come down; for they will come away at high-water,\nand as they have twenty miles to come, you will get near two hours of\nthem by the difference of the tide, not reckoning the length of the way:\nbesides, as they are only boats, and not ships, they will not venture to\nfollow you far out to sea, especially if it blows.\"--\"Well,\" said I, \"you\nhave been very kind in this: what shall I do to make you amends?\"--\"Sir,\"\nsays he, \"you may not be willing to make me any amends, because you may\nnot be convinced of the truth of it.  I will make an offer to you: I have\nnineteen months' pay due to me on board the ship ---, which I came out of\nEngland in; and the Dutchman that is with me has seven months' pay due to\nhim.  If you will make good our pay to us we will go along with you; if\nyou find nothing more in it we will desire no more; but if we do convince\nyou that we have saved your lives, and the ship, and the lives of all the\nmen in her, we will leave the rest to you.\"\nI consented to this readily, and went immediately on board, and the two\nmen with me.  As soon as I came to the ship's side, my partner, who was\non board, came out on the quarter-deck, and called to me, with a great\ndeal of joy, \"We have stopped the leak--we have stopped the leak!\"--\"Say\nyou so?\" said I; \"thank God; but weigh anchor, then,\nimmediately.\"--\"Weigh!\" says he; \"what do you mean by that?  What is the\nmatter?\"--\"Ask no questions,\" said I; \"but set all hands to work, and\nweigh without losing a minute.\"  He was surprised; however, he called the\ncaptain, and he immediately ordered the anchor to be got up; and though\nthe tide was not quite down, yet a little land-breeze blowing, we stood\nout to sea.  Then I called him into the cabin, and told him the story;\nand we called in the men, and they told us the rest of it; but as it took\nup a great deal of time, before we had done a seaman comes to the cabin\ndoor, and called out to us that the captain bade him tell us we were\nchased by five sloops, or boats, full of men.  \"Very well,\" said I, \"then\nit is apparent there is something in it.\"  I then ordered all our men to\nbe called up, and told them there was a design to seize the ship, and\ntake us for pirates, and asked them if they would stand by us, and by one\nanother; the men answered cheerfully, one and all, that they would live\nand die with us.  Then I asked the captain what way he thought best for\nus to manage a fight with them; for resist them I was resolved we would,\nand that to the last drop.  He said readily, that the way was to keep\nthem off with our great shot as long as we could, and then to use our\nsmall arms, to keep them from boarding us; but when neither of these\nwould do any longer, we would retire to our close quarters, for perhaps\nthey had not materials to break open our bulkheads, or get in upon us.\nThe gunner had in the meantime orders to bring two guns, to bear fore and\naft, out of the steerage, to clear the deck, and load them with musket-\nbullets, and small pieces of old iron, and what came next to hand.  Thus\nwe made ready for fight; but all this while we kept out to sea, with wind\nenough, and could see the boats at a distance, being five large\nlongboats, following us with all the sail they could make.\nTwo of those boats (which by our glasses we could see were English)\noutsailed the rest, were near two leagues ahead of them, and gained upon\nus considerably, so that we found they would come up with us; upon which\nwe fired a gun without ball, to intimate that they should bring to: and\nwe put out a flag of truce, as a signal for parley: but they came\ncrowding after us till within shot, when we took in our white flag, they\nhaving made no answer to it, and hung out a red flag, and fired at them\nwith a shot.  Notwithstanding this, they came on till they were near\nenough to call to them with a speaking-trumpet, bidding them keep off at\ntheir peril.\nIt was all one; they crowded after us, and endeavoured to come under our\nstern, so as to board us on our quarter; upon which, seeing they were\nresolute for mischief, and depended upon the strength that followed them,\nI ordered to bring the ship to, so that they lay upon our broadside; when\nimmediately we fired five guns at them, one of which had been levelled so\ntrue as to carry away the stern of the hindermost boat, and we then\nforced them to take down their sail, and to run all to the head of the\nboat, to keep her from sinking; so she lay by, and had enough of it; but\nseeing the foremost boat crowd on after us, we made ready to fire at her\nin particular.  While this was doing one of the three boats that followed\nmade up to the boat which we had disabled, to relieve her, and we could\nsee her take out the men.  We then called again to the foremost boat, and\noffered a truce, to parley again, and to know what her business was with\nus; but had no answer, only she crowded close under our stern.  Upon\nthis, our gunner who was a very dexterous fellow ran out his two case-\nguns, and fired again at her, but the shot missing, the men in the boat\nshouted, waved their caps, and came on.  The gunner, getting quickly\nready again, fired among them a second time, one shot of which, though it\nmissed the boat itself, yet fell in among the men, and we could easily\nsee did a great deal of mischief among them.  We now wore the ship again,\nand brought our quarter to bear upon them, and firing three guns more, we\nfound the boat was almost split to pieces; in particular, her rudder and\na piece of her stern were shot quite away; so they handed her sail\nimmediately, and were in great disorder.  To complete their misfortune,\nour gunner let fly two guns at them again; where he hit them we could not\ntell, but we found the boat was sinking, and some of the men already in\nthe water: upon this, I immediately manned out our pinnace, with orders\nto pick up some of the men if they could, and save them from drowning,\nand immediately come on board ship with them, because we saw the rest of\nthe boats began to come up.  Our men in the pinnace followed their\norders, and took up three men, one of whom was just drowning, and it was\na good while before we could recover him.  As soon as they were on board\nwe crowded all the sail we could make, and stood farther out to the sea;\nand we found that when the other boats came up to the first, they gave\nover their chase.\nBeing thus delivered from a danger which, though I knew not the reason of\nit, yet seemed to be much greater than I apprehended, I resolved that we\nshould change our course, and not let any one know whither we were going;\nso we stood out to sea eastward, quite out of the course of all European\nships, whether they were bound to China or anywhere else, within the\ncommerce of the European nations.  When we were at sea we began to\nconsult with the two seamen, and inquire what the meaning of all this\nshould be; and the Dutchman confirmed the gunner's story about the false\nsale of the ship and of the murder of the captain, and also how that he,\nthis Dutchman, and four more got into the woods, where they wandered\nabout a great while, till at length he made his escape, and swam off to a\nDutch ship, which was sailing near the shore in its way from China.\nHe then told us that he went to Batavia, where two of the seamen\nbelonging to the ship arrived, having deserted the rest in their travels,\nand gave an account that the fellow who had run away with the ship, sold\nher at Bengal to a set of pirates, who were gone a-cruising in her, and\nthat they had already taken an English ship and two Dutch ships very\nrichly laden.  This latter part we found to concern us directly, though\nwe knew it to be false; yet, as my partner said, very justly, if we had\nfallen into their hands, and they had had such a prepossession against us\nbeforehand, it had been in vain for us to have defended ourselves, or to\nhope for any good quarter at their hands; especially considering that our\naccusers had been our judges, and that we could have expected nothing\nfrom them but what rage would have dictated, and an ungoverned passion\nhave executed.  Therefore it was his opinion we should go directly back\nto Bengal, from whence we came, without putting in at any port\nwhatever--because where we could give a good account of ourselves, could\nprove where we were when the ship put in, of whom we bought her, and the\nlike; and what was more than all the rest, if we were put upon the\nnecessity of bringing it before the proper judges, we should be sure to\nhave some justice, and not to be hanged first and judged afterwards.\nI was some time of my partner's opinion; but after a little more serious\nthinking, I told him I thought it was a very great hazard for us to\nattempt returning to Bengal, for that we were on the wrong side of the\nStraits of Malacca, and that if the alarm was given, we should be sure to\nbe waylaid on every side--that if we should be taken, as it were, running\naway, we should even condemn ourselves, and there would want no more\nevidence to destroy us.  I also asked the English sailor's opinion, who\nsaid he was of my mind, and that we certainly should be taken.  This\ndanger a little startled my partner and all the ship's company, and we\nimmediately resolved to go away to the coast of Tonquin, and so on to the\ncoast of China--and pursuing the first design as to trade, find some way\nor other to dispose of the ship, and come back in some of the vessels of\nthe country such as we could get.  This was approved of as the best\nmethod for our security, and accordingly we steered away NNE., keeping\nabove fifty leagues off from the usual course to the eastward.  This,\nhowever, put us to some inconvenience: for, first, the winds, when we\ncame that distance from the shore, seemed to be more steadily against us,\nblowing almost trade, as we call it, from the E. and ENE., so that we\nwere a long while upon our voyage, and we were but ill provided with\nvictuals for so long a run; and what was still worse, there was some\ndanger that those English and Dutch ships whose boats pursued us, whereof\nsome were bound that way, might have got in before us, and if not, some\nother ship bound to China might have information of us from them, and\npursue us with the same vigour.\nI must confess I was now very uneasy, and thought myself, including the\nlate escape from the longboats, to have been in the most dangerous\ncondition that ever I was in through my past life; for whatever ill\ncircumstances I had been in, I was never pursued for a thief before; nor\nhad I ever done anything that merited the name of dishonest or\nfraudulent, much less thievish.  I had chiefly been my own enemy, or, as\nI may rightly say, I had been nobody's enemy but my own; but now I was\nwoefully embarrassed: for though I was perfectly innocent, I was in no\ncondition to make that innocence appear; and if I had been taken, it had\nbeen under a supposed guilt of the worst kind.  This made me very anxious\nto make an escape, though which way to do it I knew not, or what port or\nplace we could go to.  My partner endeavoured to encourage me by\ndescribing the several ports of that coast, and told me he would put in\non the coast of Cochin China, or the bay of Tonquin, intending afterwards\nto go to Macao, where a great many European families resided, and\nparticularly the missionary priests, who usually went thither in order to\ntheir going forward to China.\nHither then we resolved to go; and, accordingly, though after a tedious\ncourse, and very much straitened for provisions, we came within sight of\nthe coast very early in the morning; and upon reflection on the past\ncircumstances of danger we were in, we resolved to put into a small\nriver, which, however, had depth enough of water for us, and to see if we\ncould, either overland or by the ship's pinnace, come to know what ships\nwere in any port thereabouts.  This happy step was, indeed, our\ndeliverance: for though we did not immediately see any European ships in\nthe bay of Tonquin, yet the next morning there came into the bay two\nDutch ships; and a third without any colours spread out, but which we\nbelieved to be a Dutchman, passed by at about two leagues' distance,\nsteering for the coast of China; and in the afternoon went by two English\nships steering the same course; and thus we thought we saw ourselves\nbeset with enemies both one way and the other.  The place we were in was\nwild and barbarous, the people thieves by occupation; and though it is\ntrue we had not much to seek of them, and, except getting a few\nprovisions, cared not how little we had to do with them, yet it was with\nmuch difficulty that we kept ourselves from being insulted by them\nseveral ways.  We were in a small river of this country, within a few\nleagues of its utmost limits northward; and by our boat we coasted north-\neast to the point of land which opens the great bay of Tonquin; and it\nwas in this beating up along the shore that we discovered we were\nsurrounded with enemies.  The people we were among were the most\nbarbarous of all the inhabitants of the coast; and among other customs\nthey have this one: that if any vessel has the misfortune to be\nshipwrecked upon their coast, they make the men all prisoners or slaves;\nand it was not long before we found a spice of their kindness this way,\non the occasion following.\nI have observed above that our ship sprung a leak at sea, and that we\ncould not find it out; and it happened that, as I have said, it was\nstopped unexpectedly, on the eve of our being pursued by the Dutch and\nEnglish ships in the bay of Siam; yet, as we did not find the ship so\nperfectly tight and sound as we desired, we resolved while we were at\nthis place to lay her on shore, and clean her bottom, and, if possible,\nto find out where the leaks were.  Accordingly, having lightened the\nship, and brought all our guns and other movables to one side, we tried\nto bring her down, that we might come at her bottom; but, on second\nthoughts, we did not care to lay her on dry ground, neither could we find\nout a proper place for it.\nCHAPTER XII--THE CARPENTER'S WHIMSICAL CONTRIVANCE\nThe inhabitants came wondering down the shore to look at us; and seeing\nthe ship lie down on one side in such a manner, and heeling in towards\nthe shore, and not seeing our men, who were at work on her bottom with\nstages, and with their boats on the off-side, they presently concluded\nthat the ship was cast away, and lay fast on the ground.  On this\nsupposition they came about us in two or three hours' time with ten or\ntwelve large boats, having some of them eight, some ten men in a boat,\nintending, no doubt, to have come on board and plundered the ship, and if\nthey found us there, to have carried us away for slaves.\nWhen they came up to the ship, and began to row round her, they\ndiscovered us all hard at work on the outside of the ship's bottom and\nside, washing, and graving, and stopping, as every seafaring man knows\nhow.  They stood for a while gazing at us, and we, who were a little\nsurprised, could not imagine what their design was; but being willing to\nbe sure, we took this opportunity to get some of us into the ship, and\nothers to hand down arms and ammunition to those that were at work, to\ndefend themselves with if there should be occasion.  And it was no more\nthan need: for in less than a quarter of an hour's consultation, they\nagreed, it seems, that the ship was really a wreck, and that we were all\nat work endeavouring to save her, or to save our lives by the help of our\nboats; and when we handed our arms into the boat, they concluded, by that\nact, that we were endeavouring to save some of our goods.  Upon this,\nthey took it for granted we all belonged to them, and away they came\ndirectly upon our men, as if it had been in a line-of-battle.\nOur men, seeing so many of them, began to be frightened, for we lay but\nin an ill posture to fight, and cried out to us to know what they should\ndo.  I immediately called to the men that worked upon the stages to slip\nthem down, and get up the side into the ship, and bade those in the boat\nto row round and come on board.  The few who were on board worked with\nall the strength and hands we had to bring the ship to rights; however,\nneither the men upon the stages nor those in the boats could do as they\nwere ordered before the Cochin Chinese were upon them, when two of their\nboats boarded our longboat, and began to lay hold of the men as their\nprisoners.\nThe first man they laid hold of was an English seaman, a stout, strong\nfellow, who having a musket in his hand, never offered to fire it, but\nlaid it down in the boat, like a fool, as I thought; but he understood\nhis business better than I could teach him, for he grappled the Pagan,\nand dragged him by main force out of their boat into ours, where, taking\nhim by the ears, he beat his head so against the boat's gunnel that the\nfellow died in his hands.  In the meantime, a Dutchman, who stood next,\ntook up the musket, and with the butt-end of it so laid about him, that\nhe knocked down five of them who attempted to enter the boat.  But this\nwas doing little towards resisting thirty or forty men, who, fearless\nbecause ignorant of their danger, began to throw themselves into the\nlongboat, where we had but five men in all to defend it; but the\nfollowing accident, which deserved our laughter, gave our men a complete\nvictory.\nOur carpenter being prepared to grave the outside of the ship, as well as\nto pay the seams where he had caulked her to stop the leaks, had got two\nkettles just let down into the boat, one filled with boiling pitch, and\nthe other with rosin, tallow, and oil, and such stuff as the shipwrights\nuse for that work; and the man that attended the carpenter had a great\niron ladle in his hand, with which he supplied the men that were at work\nwith the hot stuff.  Two of the enemy's men entered the boat just where\nthis fellow stood in the foresheets; he immediately saluted them with a\nladle full of the stuff, boiling hot which so burned and scalded them,\nbeing half-naked that they roared out like bulls, and, enraged with the\nfire, leaped both into the sea.  The carpenter saw it, and cried out,\n\"Well done, Jack! give them some more of it!\" and stepping forward\nhimself, takes one of the mops, and dipping it in the pitch-pot, he and\nhis man threw it among them so plentifully that, in short, of all the men\nin the three boats, there was not one that escaped being scalded in a\nmost frightful manner, and made such a howling and crying that I never\nheard a worse noise.\nI was never better pleased with a victory in my life; not only as it was\na perfect surprise to me, and that our danger was imminent before, but as\nwe got this victory without any bloodshed, except of that man the seaman\nkilled with his naked hands, and which I was very much concerned at.\nAlthough it maybe a just thing, because necessary (for there is no\nnecessary wickedness in nature), yet I thought it was a sad sort of life,\nwhen we must be always obliged to be killing our fellow-creatures to\npreserve ourselves; and, indeed, I think so still; and I would even now\nsuffer a great deal rather than I would take away the life even of the\nworst person injuring me; and I believe all considering people, who know\nthe value of life, would be of my opinion, if they entered seriously into\nthe consideration of it.\nAll the while this was doing, my partner and I, who managed the rest of\nthe men on board, had with great dexterity brought the ship almost to\nrights, and having got the guns into their places again, the gunner\ncalled to me to bid our boat get out of the way, for he would let fly\namong them.  I called back again to him, and bid him not offer to fire,\nfor the carpenter would do the work without him; but bid him heat another\npitch-kettle, which our cook, who was on broad, took care of.  However,\nthe enemy was so terrified with what they had met with in their first\nattack, that they would not come on again; and some of them who were\nfarthest off, seeing the ship swim, as it were, upright, began, as we\nsuppose, to see their mistake, and gave over the enterprise, finding it\nwas not as they expected.  Thus we got clear of this merry fight; and\nhaving got some rice and some roots and bread, with about sixteen hogs,\non board two days before, we resolved to stay here no longer, but go\nforward, whatever came of it; for we made no doubt but we should be\nsurrounded the next day with rogues enough, perhaps more than our pitch-\nkettle would dispose of for us.  We therefore got all our things on board\nthe same evening, and the next morning were ready to sail: in the\nmeantime, lying at anchor at some distance from the shore, we were not so\nmuch concerned, being now in a fighting posture, as well as in a sailing\nposture, if any enemy had presented.  The next day, having finished our\nwork within board, and finding our ship was perfectly healed of all her\nleaks, we set sail.  We would have gone into the bay of Tonquin, for we\nwanted to inform ourselves of what was to be known concerning the Dutch\nships that had been there; but we durst not stand in there, because we\nhad seen several ships go in, as we supposed, but a little before; so we\nkept on NE. towards the island of Formosa, as much afraid of being seen\nby a Dutch or English merchant ship as a Dutch or English merchant ship\nin the Mediterranean is of an Algerine man-of-war.\nWhen we were thus got to sea, we kept on NE., as if we would go to the\nManillas or the Philippine Islands; and this we did that we might not\nfall into the way of any of the European ships; and then we steered\nnorth, till we came to the latitude of 22 degrees 30 seconds, by which\nmeans we made the island of Formosa directly, where we came to an anchor,\nin order to get water and fresh provisions, which the people there, who\nare very courteous in their manners, supplied us with willingly, and\ndealt very fairly and punctually with us in all their agreements and\nbargains.  This is what we did not find among other people, and may be\nowing to the remains of Christianity which was once planted here by a\nDutch missionary of Protestants, and it is a testimony of what I have\noften observed, viz. that the Christian religion always civilises the\npeople, and reforms their manners, where it is received, whether it works\nsaving effects upon them or no.\nFrom thence we sailed still north, keeping the coast of China at an equal\ndistance, till we knew we were beyond all the ports of China where our\nEuropean ships usually come; being resolved, if possible, not to fall\ninto any of their hands, especially in this country, where, as our\ncircumstances were, we could not fail of being entirely ruined.  Being\nnow come to the latitude of 30 degrees, we resolved to put into the first\ntrading port we should come at; and standing in for the shore, a boat\ncame of two leagues to us with an old Portuguese pilot on board, who,\nknowing us to be an European ship, came to offer his service, which,\nindeed, we were glad of and took him on board; upon which, without asking\nus whither we would go, he dismissed the boat he came in, and sent it\nback.  I thought it was now so much in our choice to make the old man\ncarry us whither we would, that I began to talk to him about carrying us\nto the Gulf of Nankin, which is the most northern part of the coast of\nChina.  The old man said he knew the Gulf of Nankin very well; but\nsmiling, asked us what we would do there?  I told him we would sell our\ncargo and purchase China wares, calicoes, raw silks, tea, wrought silks,\n&c.; and so we would return by the same course we came.  He told us our\nbest port would have been to put in at Macao, where we could not have\nfailed of a market for our opium to our satisfaction, and might for our\nmoney have purchased all sorts of China goods as cheap as we could at\nNankin.\nNot being able to put the old man out of his talk, of which he was very\nopinionated or conceited, I told him we were gentlemen as well as\nmerchants, and that we had a mind to go and see the great city of Pekin,\nand the famous court of the monarch of China.  \"Why, then,\" says the old\nman, \"you should go to Ningpo, where, by the river which runs into the\nsea there, you may go up within five leagues of the great canal.  This\ncanal is a navigable stream, which goes through the heart of that vast\nempire of China, crosses all the rivers, passes some considerable hills\nby the help of sluices and gates, and goes up to the city of Pekin, being\nin length near two hundred and seventy leagues.\"--\"Well,\" said I,\n\"Seignior Portuguese, but that is not our business now; the great\nquestion is, if you can carry us up to the city of Nankin, from whence we\ncan travel to Pekin afterwards?\"  He said he could do so very well, and\nthat there was a great Dutch ship gone up that way just before.  This\ngave me a little shock, for a Dutch ship was now our terror, and we had\nmuch rather have met the devil, at least if he had not come in too\nfrightful a figure; and we depended upon it that a Dutch ship would be\nour destruction, for we were in no condition to fight them; all the ships\nthey trade with into those parts being of great burden, and of much\ngreater force than we were.\nThe old man found me a little confused, and under some concern when he\nnamed a Dutch ship, and said to me, \"Sir, you need be under no\napprehensions of the Dutch; I suppose they are not now at war with your\nnation?\"--\"No,\" said I, \"that's true; but I know not what liberties men\nmay take when they are out of the reach of the laws of their own\ncountry.\"--\"Why,\" says he, \"you are no pirates; what need you fear?  They\nwill not meddle with peaceable merchants, sure.\"  These words put me into\nthe greatest disorder and confusion imaginable; nor was it possible for\nme to conceal it so, but the old man easily perceived it.\n\"Sir,\" says he, \"I find you are in some disorder in your thoughts at my\ntalk: pray be pleased to go which way you think fit, and depend upon it,\nI'll do you all the service I can.\"  Upon this we fell into further\ndiscourse, in which, to my alarm and amazement, he spoke of the\nvillainous doings of a certain pirate ship that had long been the talk of\nmariners in those seas; no other, in a word, than the very ship he was\nnow on board of, and which we had so unluckily purchased.  I presently\nsaw there was no help for it but to tell him the plain truth, and explain\nall the danger and trouble we had suffered through this misadventure,\nand, in particular, our earnest wish to be speedily quit of the ship\naltogether; for which reason we had resolved to carry her up to Nankin.\nThe old man was amazed at this relation, and told us we were in the right\nto go away to the north; and that, if he might advise us, it should be to\nsell the ship in China, which we might well do, and buy, or build another\nin the country; adding that I should meet with customers enough for the\nship at Nankin, that a Chinese junk would serve me very well to go back\nagain, and that he would procure me people both to buy one and sell the\nother.  \"Well, but, seignior,\" said I, \"as you say they know the ship so\nwell, I may, perhaps, if I follow your measures, be instrumental to bring\nsome honest, innocent men into a terrible broil; for wherever they find\nthe ship they will prove the guilt upon the men, by proving this was the\nship.\"--\"Why,\" says the old man, \"I'll find out a way to prevent that;\nfor as I know all those commanders you speak of very well, and shall see\nthem all as they pass by, I will be sure to set them to rights in the\nthing, and let them know that they had been so much in the wrong; that\nthough the people who were on board at first might run away with the\nship, yet it was not true that they had turned pirates; and that, in\nparticular, these were not the men that first went off with the ship, but\ninnocently bought her for their trade; and I am persuaded they will so\nfar believe me as at least to act more cautiously for the time to come.\"\nIn about thirteen days' sail we came to an anchor, at the south-west\npoint of the great Gulf of Nankin; where I learned by accident that two\nDutch ships were gone the length before me, and that I should certainly\nfall into their hands.  I consulted my partner again in this exigency,\nand he was as much at a loss as I was.  I then asked the old pilot if\nthere was no creek or harbour which I might put into and pursue my\nbusiness with the Chinese privately, and be in no danger of the enemy.  He\ntold me if I would sail to the southward about forty-two leagues, there\nwas a little port called Quinchang, where the fathers of the mission\nusually landed from Macao, on their progress to teach the Christian\nreligion to the Chinese, and where no European ships ever put in; and if\nI thought to put in there, I might consider what further course to take\nwhen I was on shore.  He confessed, he said, it was not a place for\nmerchants, except that at some certain times they had a kind of a fair\nthere, when the merchants from Japan came over thither to buy Chinese\nmerchandises.  The name of the port I may perhaps spell wrong, having\nlost this, together with the names of many other places set down in a\nlittle pocket-book, which was spoiled by the water by an accident; but\nthis I remember, that the Chinese merchants we corresponded with called\nit by a different name from that which our Portuguese pilot gave it, who\npronounced it Quinchang.  As we were unanimous in our resolution to go to\nthis place, we weighed the next day, having only gone twice on shore\nwhere we were, to get fresh water; on both which occasions the people of\nthe country were very civil, and brought abundance of provisions to sell\nto us; but nothing without money.\nWe did not come to the other port (the wind being contrary) for five\ndays; but it was very much to our satisfaction, and I was thankful when I\nset my foot on shore, resolving, and my partner too, that if it was\npossible to dispose of ourselves and effects any other way, though not\nprofitably, we would never more set foot on board that unhappy vessel.\nIndeed, I must acknowledge, that of all the circumstances of life that\never I had any experience of, nothing makes mankind so completely\nmiserable as that of being in constant fear.  Well does the Scripture\nsay, \"The fear of man brings a snare\"; it is a life of death, and the\nmind is so entirely oppressed by it, that it is capable of no relief.\nNor did it fail of its usual operations upon the fancy, by heightening\nevery danger; representing the English and Dutch captains to be men\nincapable of hearing reason, or of distinguishing between honest men and\nrogues; or between a story calculated for our own turn, made out of\nnothing, on purpose to deceive, and a true, genuine account of our whole\nvoyage, progress, and design; for we might many ways have convinced any\nreasonable creatures that we were not pirates; the goods we had on board,\nthe course we steered, our frankly showing ourselves, and entering into\nsuch and such ports; and even our very manner, the force we had, the\nnumber of men, the few arms, the little ammunition, short provisions; all\nthese would have served to convince any men that we were no pirates.  The\nopium and other goods we had on board would make it appear the ship had\nbeen at Bengal.  The Dutchmen, who, it was said, had the names of all the\nmen that were in the ship, might easily see that we were a mixture of\nEnglish, Portuguese, and Indians, and but two Dutchmen on board.  These,\nand many other particular circumstances, might have made it evident to\nthe understanding of any commander, whose hands we might fall into, that\nwe were no pirates.\nBut fear, that blind, useless passion, worked another way, and threw us\ninto the vapours; it bewildered our understandings, and set the\nimagination at work to form a thousand terrible things that perhaps might\nnever happen.  We first supposed, as indeed everybody had related to us,\nthat the seamen on board the English and Dutch ships, but especially the\nDutch, were so enraged at the name of a pirate, and especially at our\nbeating off their boats and escaping, that they would not give themselves\nleave to inquire whether we were pirates or no, but would execute us off-\nhand, without giving us any room for a defence.  We reflected that there\nreally was so much apparent evidence before them, that they would scarce\ninquire after any more; as, first, that the ship was certainly the same,\nand that some of the seamen among them knew her, and had been on board\nher; and, secondly, that when we had intelligence at the river of\nCambodia that they were coming down to examine us, we fought their boats\nand fled.  Therefore we made no doubt but they were as fully satisfied of\nour being pirates as we were satisfied of the contrary; and, as I often\nsaid, I know not but I should have been apt to have taken those\ncircumstances for evidence, if the tables were turned, and my case was\ntheirs; and have made no scruple of cutting all the crew to pieces,\nwithout believing, or perhaps considering, what they might have to offer\nin their defence.\nBut let that be how it will, these were our apprehensions; and both my\npartner and I scarce slept a night without dreaming of halters and yard-\narms; of fighting, and being taken; of killing, and being killed: and one\nnight I was in such a fury in my dream, fancying the Dutchmen had boarded\nus, and I was knocking one of their seamen down, that I struck my doubled\nfist against the side of the cabin I lay in with such a force as wounded\nmy hand grievously, broke my knuckles, and cut and bruised the flesh, so\nthat it awaked me out of my sleep.  Another apprehension I had was, the\ncruel usage we might meet with from them if we fell into their hands;\nthen the story of Amboyna came into my head, and how the Dutch might\nperhaps torture us, as they did our countrymen there, and make some of\nour men, by extremity of torture, confess to crimes they never were\nguilty of, or own themselves and all of us to be pirates, and so they\nwould put us to death with a formal appearance of justice; and that they\nmight be tempted to do this for the gain of our ship and cargo, worth\naltogether four or five thousand pounds.  We did not consider that the\ncaptains of ships have no authority to act thus; and if we had\nsurrendered prisoners to them, they could not answer the destroying us,\nor torturing us, but would be accountable for it when they came to their\ncountry.  However, if they were to act thus with us, what advantage would\nit be to us that they should be called to an account for it?--or if we\nwere first to be murdered, what satisfaction would it be to us to have\nthem punished when they came home?\nI cannot refrain taking notice here what reflections I now had upon the\nvast variety of my particular circumstances; how hard I thought it that\nI, who had spent forty years in a life of continual difficulties, and was\nat last come, as it were, to the port or haven which all men drive at,\nviz. to have rest and plenty, should be a volunteer in new sorrows by my\nown unhappy choice, and that I, who had escaped so many dangers in my\nyouth, should now come to be hanged in my old age, and in so remote a\nplace, for a crime which I was not in the least inclined to, much less\nguilty of.  After these thoughts something of religion would come in; and\nI would be considering that this seemed to me to be a disposition of\nimmediate Providence, and I ought to look upon it and submit to it as\nsuch.  For, although I was innocent as to men, I was far from being\ninnocent as to my Maker; and I ought to look in and examine what other\ncrimes in my life were most obvious to me, and for which Providence might\njustly inflict this punishment as a retribution; and thus I ought to\nsubmit to this, just as I would to a shipwreck, if it had pleased God to\nhave brought such a disaster upon me.\nIn its turn natural courage would sometimes take its place, and then I\nwould be talking myself up to vigorous resolutions; that I would not be\ntaken to be barbarously used by a parcel of merciless wretches in cold\nblood; that it were much better to have fallen into the hands of the\nsavages, though I were sure they would feast upon me when they had taken\nme, than those who would perhaps glut their rage upon me by inhuman\ntortures and barbarities; that in the case of the savages, I always\nresolved to die fighting to the last gasp, and why should I not do so\nnow?  Whenever these thoughts prevailed, I was sure to put myself into a\nkind of fever with the agitation of a supposed fight; my blood would\nboil, and my eyes sparkle, as if I was engaged, and I always resolved to\ntake no quarter at their hands; but even at last, if I could resist no\nlonger, I would blow up the ship and all that was in her, and leave them\nbut little booty to boast of.\nCHAPTER XIII--ARRIVAL IN CHINA\nThe greater weight the anxieties and perplexities of these things were to\nour thoughts while we were at sea, the greater was our satisfaction when\nwe saw ourselves on shore; and my partner told me he dreamed that he had\na very heavy load upon his back, which he was to carry up a hill, and\nfound that he was not able to stand longer under it; but that the\nPortuguese pilot came and took it off his back, and the hill disappeared,\nthe ground before him appearing all smooth and plain: and truly it was\nso; they were all like men who had a load taken off their backs.  For my\npart I had a weight taken off from my heart that it was not able any\nlonger to bear; and as I said above we resolved to go no more to sea in\nthat ship.  When we came on shore, the old pilot, who was now our friend,\ngot us a lodging, together with a warehouse for our goods; it was a\nlittle hut, with a larger house adjoining to it, built and also\npalisadoed round with canes, to keep out pilferers, of which there were\nnot a few in that country: however, the magistrates allowed us a little\nguard, and we had a soldier with a kind of half-pike, who stood sentinel\nat our door, to whom we allowed a pint of rice and a piece of money about\nthe value of three-pence per day, so that our goods were kept very safe.\nThe fair or mart usually kept at this place had been over some time;\nhowever, we found that there were three or four junks in the river, and\ntwo ships from Japan, with goods which they had bought in China, and were\nnot gone away, having some Japanese merchants on shore.\nThe first thing our old Portuguese pilot did for us was to get us\nacquainted with three missionary Romish priests who were in the town, and\nwho had been there some time converting the people to Christianity; but\nwe thought they made but poor work of it, and made them but sorry\nChristians when they had done.  One of these was a Frenchman, whom they\ncalled Father Simon; another was a Portuguese; and a third a Genoese.\nFather Simon was courteous, and very agreeable company; but the other two\nwere more reserved, seemed rigid and austere, and applied seriously to\nthe work they came about, viz. to talk with and insinuate themselves\namong the inhabitants wherever they had opportunity.  We often ate and\ndrank with those men; and though I must confess the conversion, as they\ncall it, of the Chinese to Christianity is so far from the true\nconversion required to bring heathen people to the faith of Christ, that\nit seems to amount to little more than letting them know the name of\nChrist, and say some prayers to the Virgin Mary and her Son, in a tongue\nwhich they understood not, and to cross themselves, and the like; yet it\nmust be confessed that the religionists, whom we call missionaries, have\na firm belief that these people will be saved, and that they are the\ninstruments of it; and on this account they undergo not only the fatigue\nof the voyage, and the hazards of living in such places, but oftentimes\ndeath itself, and the most violent tortures, for the sake of this work.\nFather Simon was appointed, it seems, by order of the chief of the\nmission, to go up to Pekin, and waited only for another priest, who was\nordered to come to him from Macao, to go along with him.  We scarce ever\nmet together but he was inviting me to go that journey; telling me how he\nwould show me all the glorious things of that mighty empire, and, among\nthe rest, Pekin, the greatest city in the world: \"A city,\" said he, \"that\nyour London and our Paris put together cannot be equal to.\"  But as I\nlooked on those things with different eyes from other men, so I shall\ngive my opinion of them in a few words, when I come in the course of my\ntravels to speak more particularly of them.\nDining with Father Simon one day, and being very merry together, I showed\nsome little inclination to go with him; and he pressed me and my partner\nvery hard to consent.  \"Why, father,\" says my partner, \"should you desire\nour company so much? you know we are heretics, and you do not love us,\nnor cannot keep us company with any pleasure.\"--\"Oh,\" says he, \"you may\nperhaps be good Catholics in time; my business here is to convert\nheathens, and who knows but I may convert you too?\"--\"Very well, father,\"\nsaid I, \"so you will preach to us all the way?\"--\"I will not be\ntroublesome to you,\" says he; \"our religion does not divest us of good\nmanners; besides, we are here like countrymen; and so we are, compared to\nthe place we are in; and if you are Huguenots, and I a Catholic, we may\nall be Christians at last; at least, we are all gentlemen, and we may\nconverse so, without being uneasy to one another.\"  I liked this part of\nhis discourse very well, and it began to put me in mind of my priest that\nI had left in the Brazils; but Father Simon did not come up to his\ncharacter by a great deal; for though this friar had no appearance of a\ncriminal levity in him, yet he had not that fund of Christian zeal,\nstrict piety, and sincere affection to religion that my other good\necclesiastic had.\nBut to leave him a little, though he never left us, nor solicited us to\ngo with him; we had something else before us at first, for we had all\nthis while our ship and our merchandise to dispose of, and we began to be\nvery doubtful what we should do, for we were now in a place of very\nlittle business.  Once I was about to venture to sail for the river of\nKilam, and the city of Nankin; but Providence seemed now more visibly, as\nI thought, than ever to concern itself in our affairs; and I was\nencouraged, from this very time, to think I should, one way or other, get\nout of this entangled circumstance, and be brought home to my own country\nagain, though I had not the least view of the manner.  Providence, I say,\nbegan here to clear up our way a little; and the first thing that offered\nwas, that our old Portuguese pilot brought a Japan merchant to us, who\ninquired what goods we had: and, in the first place, he bought all our\nopium, and gave us a very good price for it, paying us in gold by weight,\nsome in small pieces of their own coin, and some in small wedges, of\nabout ten or twelves ounces each.  While we were dealing with him for our\nopium, it came into my head that he might perhaps deal for the ship too,\nand I ordered the interpreter to propose it to him.  He shrunk up his\nshoulders at it when it was first proposed to him; but in a few days\nafter he came to me, with one of the missionary priests for his\ninterpreter, and told me he had a proposal to make to me, which was this:\nhe had bought a great quantity of our goods, when he had no thoughts of\nproposals made to him of buying the ship; and that, therefore, he had not\nmoney to pay for the ship: but if I would let the same men who were in\nthe ship navigate her, he would hire the ship to go to Japan; and would\nsend them from thence to the Philippine Islands with another loading,\nwhich he would pay the freight of before they went from Japan: and that\nat their return he would buy the ship.  I began to listen to his\nproposal, and so eager did my head still run upon rambling, that I could\nnot but begin to entertain a notion of going myself with him, and so to\nset sail from the Philippine Islands away to the South Seas; accordingly,\nI asked the Japanese merchant if he would not hire us to the Philippine\nIslands and discharge us there.  He said No, he could not do that, for\nthen he could not have the return of his cargo; but he would discharge us\nin Japan, at the ship's return.  Well, still I was for taking him at that\nproposal, and going myself; but my partner, wiser than myself, persuaded\nme from it, representing the dangers, as well of the seas as of the\nJapanese, who are a false, cruel, and treacherous people; likewise those\nof the Spaniards at the Philippines, more false, cruel, and treacherous\nthan they.\nBut to bring this long turn of our affairs to a conclusion; the first\nthing we had to do was to consult with the captain of the ship, and with\nhis men, and know if they were willing to go to Japan.  While I was doing\nthis, the young man whom my nephew had left with me as my companion came\nup, and told me that he thought that voyage promised very fair, and that\nthere was a great prospect of advantage, and he would be very glad if I\nundertook it; but that if I would not, and would give him leave, he would\ngo as a merchant, or as I pleased to order him; that if ever he came to\nEngland, and I was there and alive, he would render me a faithful account\nof his success, which should be as much mine as I pleased.  I was loath\nto part with him; but considering the prospect of advantage, which really\nwas considerable, and that he was a young fellow likely to do well in it,\nI inclined to let him go; but I told him I would consult my partner, and\ngive him an answer the next day.  I discoursed about it with my partner,\nwho thereupon made a most generous offer: \"You know it has been an\nunlucky ship,\" said he, \"and we both resolve not to go to sea in it\nagain; if your steward\" (so he called my man) \"will venture the voyage, I\nwill leave my share of the vessel to him, and let him make the best of\nit; and if we live to meet in England, and he meets with success abroad,\nhe shall account for one half of the profits of the ship's freight to us;\nthe other shall be his own.\"\nIf my partner, who was no way concerned with my young man, made him such\nan offer, I could not do less than offer him the same; and all the ship's\ncompany being willing to go with him, we made over half the ship to him\nin property, and took a writing from him, obliging him to account for the\nother, and away he went to Japan.  The Japan merchant proved a very\npunctual, honest man to him: protected him at Japan, and got him a\nlicence to come on shore, which the Europeans in general have not lately\nobtained.  He paid him his freight very punctually; sent him to the\nPhilippines loaded with Japan and China wares, and a supercargo of their\nown, who, trafficking with the Spaniards, brought back European goods\nagain, and a great quantity of spices; and there he was not only paid his\nfreight very well, and at a very good price, but not being willing to\nsell the ship, then the merchant furnished him goods on his own account;\nand with some money, and some spices of his own which he brought with\nhim, he went back to the Manillas, where he sold his cargo very well.\nHere, having made a good acquaintance at Manilla, he got his ship made a\nfree ship, and the governor of Manilla hired him to go to Acapulco, on\nthe coast of America, and gave him a licence to land there, and to travel\nto Mexico, and to pass in any Spanish ship to Europe with all his men.  He\nmade the voyage to Acapulco very happily, and there he sold his ship: and\nhaving there also obtained allowance to travel by land to Porto Bello, he\nfound means to get to Jamaica, with all his treasure, and about eight\nyears after came to England exceeding rich.\nBut to return to our particular affairs, being now to part with the ship\nand ship's company, it came before us, of course, to consider what\nrecompense we should give to the two men that gave us such timely notice\nof the design against us in the river Cambodia.  The truth was, they had\ndone us a very considerable service, and deserved well at our hands;\nthough, by the way, they were a couple of rogues, too; for, as they\nbelieved the story of our being pirates, and that we had really run away\nwith the ship, they came down to us, not only to betray the design that\nwas formed against us, but to go to sea with us as pirates.  One of them\nconfessed afterwards that nothing else but the hopes of going a-roguing\nbrought him to do it: however, the service they did us was not the less,\nand therefore, as I had promised to be grateful to them, I first ordered\nthe money to be paid them which they said was due to them on board their\nrespective ships: over and above that, I gave each of them a small sum of\nmoney in gold, which contented them very well.  I then made the\nEnglishman gunner in the ship, the gunner being now made second mate and\npurser; the Dutchman I made boatswain; so they were both very well\npleased, and proved very serviceable, being both able seamen, and very\nstout fellows.\nWe were now on shore in China; if I thought myself banished, and remote\nfrom my own country at Bengal, where I had many ways to get home for my\nmoney, what could I think of myself now, when I was about a thousand\nleagues farther off from home, and destitute of all manner of prospect of\nreturn?  All we had for it was this: that in about four months' time\nthere was to be another fair at the place where we were, and then we\nmight be able to purchase various manufactures of the country, and withal\nmight possibly find some Chinese junks from Tonquin for sail, that would\ncarry us and our goods whither we pleased.  This I liked very well, and\nresolved to wait; besides, as our particular persons were not obnoxious,\nso if any English or Dutch ships came thither, perhaps we might have an\nopportunity to load our goods, and get passage to some other place in\nIndia nearer home.  Upon these hopes we resolved to continue here; but,\nto divert ourselves, we took two or three journeys into the country.\nFirst, we went ten days' journey to Nankin, a city well worth seeing;\nthey say it has a million of people in it: it is regularly built, and the\nstreets are all straight, and cross one another in direct lines.  But\nwhen I come to compare the miserable people of these countries with ours,\ntheir fabrics, their manner of living, their government, their religion,\ntheir wealth, and their glory, as some call it, I must confess that I\nscarcely think it worth my while to mention them here.  We wonder at the\ngrandeur, the riches, the pomp, the ceremonies, the government, the\nmanufactures, the commerce, and conduct of these people; not that there\nis really any matter for wonder, but because, having a true notion of the\nbarbarity of those countries, the rudeness and the ignorance that prevail\nthere, we do not expect to find any such thing so far off.  Otherwise,\nwhat are their buildings to the palaces and royal buildings of Europe?\nWhat their trade to the universal commerce of England, Holland, France,\nand Spain?  What are their cities to ours, for wealth, strength, gaiety\nof apparel, rich furniture, and infinite variety?  What are their ports,\nsupplied with a few junks and barks, to our navigation, our merchant\nfleets, our large and powerful navies?  Our city of London has more trade\nthan half their mighty empire: one English, Dutch, or French man-of-war\nof eighty guns would be able to fight almost all the shipping belonging\nto China: but the greatness of their wealth, their trade, the power of\ntheir government, and the strength of their armies, may be a little\nsurprising to us, because, as I have said, considering them as a\nbarbarous nation of pagans, little better than savages, we did not expect\nsuch things among them.  But all the forces of their empire, though they\nwere to bring two millions of men into the field together, would be able\nto do nothing but ruin the country and starve themselves; a million of\ntheir foot could not stand before one embattled body of our infantry,\nposted so as not to be surrounded, though they were not to be one to\ntwenty in number; nay, I do not boast if I say that thirty thousand\nGerman or English foot, and ten thousand horse, well managed, could\ndefeat all the forces of China.  Nor is there a fortified town in China\nthat could hold out one month against the batteries and attacks of an\nEuropean army.  They have firearms, it is true, but they are awkward and\nuncertain in their going off; and their powder has but little strength.\nTheir armies are badly disciplined, and want skill to attack, or temper\nto retreat; and therefore, I must confess, it seemed strange to me, when\nI came home, and heard our people say such fine things of the power,\nglory, magnificence, and trade of the Chinese; because, as far as I saw,\nthey appeared to be a contemptible herd or crowd of ignorant, sordid\nslaves, subjected to a government qualified only to rule such a people;\nand were not its distance inconceivably, great from Muscovy, and that\nempire in a manner as rude, impotent, and ill governed as they, the Czar\nof Muscovy might with ease drive them all out of their country, and\nconquer them in one campaign; and had the Czar (who is now a growing\nprince) fallen this way, instead of attacking the warlike Swedes, and\nequally improved himself in the art of war, as they say he has done; and\nif none of the powers of Europe had envied or interrupted him, he might\nby this time have been Emperor of China, instead of being beaten by the\nKing of Sweden at Narva, when the latter was not one to six in number.\nAs their strength and their grandeur, so their navigation, commerce, and\nhusbandry are very imperfect, compared to the same things in Europe;\nalso, in their knowledge, their learning, and in their skill in the\nsciences, they are either very awkward or defective, though they have\nglobes or spheres, and a smattering of the mathematics, and think they\nknow more than all the world besides.  But they know little of the\nmotions of the heavenly bodies; and so grossly and absurdly ignorant are\ntheir common people, that when the sun is eclipsed, they think a great\ndragon has assaulted it, and is going to run away with it; and they fall\na clattering with all the drums and kettles in the country, to fright the\nmonster away, just as we do to hive a swarm of bees!\nAs this is the only excursion of the kind which I have made in all the\naccounts I have given of my travels, so I shall make no more such.  It is\nnone of my business, nor any part of my design; but to give an account of\nmy own adventures through a life of inimitable wanderings, and a long\nvariety of changes, which, perhaps, few that come after me will have\nheard the like of: I shall, therefore, say very little of all the mighty\nplaces, desert countries, and numerous people I have yet to pass through,\nmore than relates to my own story, and which my concern among them will\nmake necessary.\nI was now, as near as I can compute, in the heart of China, about thirty\ndegrees north of the line, for we were returned from Nankin.  I had\nindeed a mind to see the city of Pekin, which I had heard so much of, and\nFather Simon importuned me daily to do it.  At length his time of going\naway being set, and the other missionary who was to go with him being\narrived from Macao, it was necessary that we should resolve either to go\nor not; so I referred it to my partner, and left it wholly to his choice,\nwho at length resolved it in the affirmative, and we prepared for our\njourney.  We set out with very good advantage as to finding the way; for\nwe got leave to travel in the retinue of one of their mandarins, a kind\nof viceroy or principal magistrate in the province where they reside, and\nwho take great state upon them, travelling with great attendance, and\ngreat homage from the people, who are sometimes greatly impoverished by\nthem, being obliged to furnish provisions for them and all their\nattendants in their journeys.  I particularly observed in our travelling\nwith his baggage, that though we received sufficient provisions both for\nourselves and our horses from the country, as belonging to the mandarin,\nyet we were obliged to pay for everything we had, after the market price\nof the country, and the mandarin's steward collected it duly from us.\nThus our travelling in the retinue of the mandarin, though it was a great\nact of kindness, was not such a mighty favour to us, but was a great\nadvantage to him, considering there were above thirty other people\ntravelled in the same manner besides us, under the protection of his\nretinue; for the country furnished all the provisions for nothing to him,\nand yet he took our money for them.\nWe were twenty-five days travelling to Pekin, through a country exceeding\npopulous, but I think badly cultivated; the husbandry, the economy, and\nthe way of living miserable, though they boast so much of the industry of\nthe people: I say miserable, if compared with our own, but not so to\nthese poor wretches, who know no other.  The pride of the poor people is\ninfinitely great, and exceeded by nothing but their poverty, in some\nparts, which adds to that which I call their misery; and I must needs\nthink the savages of America live much more happy than the poorer sort of\nthese, because as they have nothing, so they desire nothing; whereas\nthese are proud and insolent and in the main are in many parts mere\nbeggars and drudges.  Their ostentation is inexpressible; and, if they\ncan, they love to keep multitudes of servants or slaves, which is to the\nlast degree ridiculous, as well as their contempt of all the world but\nthemselves.\nI must confess I travelled more pleasantly afterwards in the deserts and\nvast wildernesses of Grand Tartary than here, and yet the roads here are\nwell paved and well kept, and very convenient for travellers; but nothing\nwas more awkward to me than to see such a haughty, imperious, insolent\npeople, in the midst of the grossest simplicity and ignorance; and my\nfriend Father Simon and I used to be very merry upon these occasions, to\nsee their beggarly pride.  For example, coming by the house of a country\ngentleman, as Father Simon called him, about ten leagues off the city of\nNankin, we had first of all the honour to ride with the master of the\nhouse about two miles; the state he rode in was a perfect Don Quixotism,\nbeing a mixture of pomp and poverty.  His habit was very proper for a\nmerry-andrew, being a dirty calico, with hanging sleeves, tassels, and\ncuts and slashes almost on every side: it covered a taffety vest, so\ngreasy as to testify that his honour must be a most exquisite sloven.  His\nhorse was a poor, starved, hobbling creature, and two slaves followed him\non foot to drive the poor creature along; he had a whip in his hand, and\nhe belaboured the beast as fast about the head as his slaves did about\nthe tail; and thus he rode by us, with about ten or twelve servants,\ngoing from the city to his country seat, about half a league before us.\nWe travelled on gently, but this figure of a gentleman rode away before\nus; and as we stopped at a village about an hour to refresh us, when we\ncame by the country seat of this great man, we saw him in a little place\nbefore his door, eating a repast.  It was a kind of garden, but he was\neasy to be seen; and we were given to understand that the more we looked\nat him the better he would be pleased.  He sat under a tree, something\nlike the palmetto, which effectually shaded him over the head, and on the\nsouth side; but under the tree was placed a large umbrella, which made\nthat part look well enough.  He sat lolling back in a great elbow-chair,\nbeing a heavy corpulent man, and had his meat brought him by two women\nslaves.  He had two more, one of whom fed the squire with a spoon, and\nthe other held the dish with one hand, and scraped off what he let fall\nupon his worship's beard and taffety vest.\nLeaving the poor wretch to please himself with our looking at him, as if\nwe admired his idle pomp, we pursued our journey.  Father Simon had the\ncuriosity to stay to inform himself what dainties the country justice had\nto feed on in all his state, which he had the honour to taste of, and\nwhich was, I think, a mess of boiled rice, with a great piece of garlic\nin it, and a little bag filled with green pepper, and another plant which\nthey have there, something like our ginger, but smelling like musk, and\ntasting like mustard; all this was put together, and a small piece of\nlean mutton boiled in it, and this was his worship's repast.  Four or\nfive servants more attended at a distance, who we supposed were to eat of\nthe same after their master.  As for our mandarin with whom we travelled,\nhe was respected as a king, surrounded always with his gentlemen, and\nattended in all his appearances with such pomp, that I saw little of him\nbut at a distance.  I observed that there was not a horse in his retinue\nbut that our carrier's packhorses in England seemed to me to look much\nbetter; though it was hard to judge rightly, for they were so covered\nwith equipage, mantles, trappings, &c., that we could scarce see anything\nbut their feet and their heads as they went along.\nI was now light-hearted, and all my late trouble and perplexity being\nover, I had no anxious thoughts about me, which made this journey the\npleasanter to me; in which no ill accident attended me, only in passing\nor fording a small river, my horse fell and made me free of the country,\nas they call it--that is to say, threw me in.  The place was not deep,\nbut it wetted me all over.  I mention it because it spoiled my pocket-\nbook, wherein I had set down the names of several people and places which\nI had occasion to remember, and which not taking due care of, the leaves\nrotted, and the words were never after to be read.\nAt length we arrived at Pekin.  I had nobody with me but the youth whom\nmy nephew had given me to attend me as a servant and who proved very\ntrusty and diligent; and my partner had nobody with him but one servant,\nwho was a kinsman.  As for the Portuguese pilot, he being desirous to see\nthe court, we bore his charges for his company, and for our use of him as\nan interpreter, for he understood the language of the country, and spoke\ngood French and a little English.  Indeed, this old man was most useful\nto us everywhere; for we had not been above a week at Pekin, when he came\nlaughing.  \"Ah, Seignior Inglese,\" says he, \"I have something to tell\nwill make your heart glad.\"--\"My heart glad,\" says I; \"what can that be?\nI don't know anything in this country can either give me joy or grief to\nany great degree.\"--\"Yes, yes,\" said the old man, in broken English,\n\"make you glad, me sorry.\"--\"Why,\" said I, \"will it make you\nsorry?\"--\"Because,\" said he, \"you have brought me here twenty-five days'\njourney, and will leave me to go back alone; and which way shall I get to\nmy port afterwards, without a ship, without a horse, without _pecune_?\"\nso he called money, being his broken Latin, of which he had abundance to\nmake us merry with.  In short, he told us there was a great caravan of\nMuscovite and Polish merchants in the city, preparing to set out on their\njourney by land to Muscovy, within four or five weeks; and he was sure we\nwould take the opportunity to go with them, and leave him behind, to go\nback alone.\nI confess I was greatly surprised with this good news, and had scarce\npower to speak to him for some time; but at last I said to him, \"How do\nyou know this? are you sure it is true?\"--\"Yes,\" says he; \"I met this\nmorning in the street an old acquaintance of mine, an Armenian, who is\namong them.  He came last from Astrakhan, and was designed to go to\nTonquin, where I formerly knew him, but has altered his mind, and is now\nresolved to go with the caravan to Moscow, and so down the river Volga to\nAstrakhan.\"--\"Well, Seignior,\" says I, \"do not be uneasy about being left\nto go back alone; if this be a method for my return to England, it shall\nbe your fault if you go back to Macao at all.\"  We then went to consult\ntogether what was to be done; and I asked my partner what he thought of\nthe pilot's news, and whether it would suit with his affairs?  He told me\nhe would do just as I would; for he had settled all his affairs so well\nat Bengal, and left his effects in such good hands, that as we had made a\ngood voyage, if he could invest it in China silks, wrought and raw, he\nwould be content to go to England, and then make a voyage back to Bengal\nby the Company's ships.\nHaving resolved upon this, we agreed that if our Portuguese pilot would\ngo with us, we would bear his charges to Moscow, or to England, if he\npleased; nor, indeed, were we to be esteemed over-generous in that\neither, if we had not rewarded him further, the service he had done us\nbeing really worth more than that; for he had not only been a pilot to us\nat sea, but he had been like a broker for us on shore; and his procuring\nfor us a Japan merchant was some hundreds of pounds in our pockets.  So,\nbeing willing to gratify him, which was but doing him justice, and very\nwilling also to have him with us besides, for he was a most necessary man\non all occasions, we agreed to give him a quantity of coined gold, which,\nas I computed it, was worth one hundred and seventy-five pounds sterling,\nbetween us, and to bear all his charges, both for himself and horse,\nexcept only a horse to carry his goods.  Having settled this between\nourselves, we called him to let him know what we had resolved.  I told\nhim he had complained of our being willing to let him go back alone, and\nI was now about to tell him we designed he should not go back at all.\nThat as we had resolved to go to Europe with the caravan, we were very\nwilling he should go with us; and that we called him to know his mind.  He\nshook his head and said it was a long journey, and that he had no\n_pecune_ to carry him thither, or to subsist himself when he came there.\nWe told him we believed it was so, and therefore we had resolved to do\nsomething for him that should let him see how sensible we were of the\nservice he had done us, and also how agreeable he was to us: and then I\ntold him what we had resolved to give him here, which he might lay out as\nwe would do our own; and that as for his charges, if he would go with us\nwe would set him safe on shore (life and casualties excepted), either in\nMuscovy or England, as he would choose, at our own charge, except only\nthe carriage of his goods.  He received the proposal like a man\ntransported, and told us he would go with us over all the whole world;\nand so we all prepared for our journey.  However, as it was with us, so\nit was with the other merchants: they had many things to do, and instead\nof being ready in five weeks, it was four months and some days before all\nthings were got together.\nCHAPTER XIV--ATTACKED BY TARTARS\nIt was the beginning of February, new style, when we set out from Pekin.\nMy partner and the old pilot had gone express back to the port where we\nhad first put in, to dispose of some goods which we had left there; and\nI, with a Chinese merchant whom I had some knowledge of at Nankin, and\nwho came to Pekin on his own affairs, went to Nankin, where I bought\nninety pieces of fine damasks, with about two hundred pieces of other\nvery fine silk of several sorts, some mixed with gold, and had all these\nbrought to Pekin against my partner's return.  Besides this, we bought a\nlarge quantity of raw silk, and some other goods, our cargo amounting, in\nthese goods only, to about three thousand five hundred pounds sterling;\nwhich, together with tea and some fine calicoes, and three camels' loads\nof nutmegs and cloves, loaded in all eighteen camels for our share,\nbesides those we rode upon; these, with two or three spare horses, and\ntwo horses loaded with provisions, made together twenty-six camels and\nhorses in our retinue.\nThe company was very great, and, as near as I can remember, made between\nthree and four hundred horses, and upwards of one hundred and twenty men,\nvery well armed and provided for all events; for as the Eastern caravans\nare subject to be attacked by the Arabs, so are these by the Tartars.  The\ncompany consisted of people of several nations, but there were above\nsixty of them merchants or inhabitants of Moscow, though of them some\nwere Livonians; and to our particular satisfaction, five of them were\nScots, who appeared also to be men of great experience in business, and\nof very good substance.\nWhen we had travelled one day's journey, the guides, who were five in\nnumber, called all the passengers, except the servants, to a great\ncouncil, as they called it.  At this council every one deposited a\ncertain quantity of money to a common stock, for the necessary expense of\nbuying forage on the way, where it was not otherwise to be had, and for\nsatisfying the guides, getting horses, and the like.  Here, too, they\nconstituted the journey, as they call it, viz. they named captains and\nofficers to draw us all up, and give the word of command, in case of an\nattack, and give every one their turn of command; nor was this forming us\ninto order any more than what we afterwards found needful on the way.\nThe road all on this side of the country is very populous, and is full of\npotters and earth-makers--that is to say, people, that temper the earth\nfor the China ware.  As I was coming along, our Portuguese pilot, who had\nalways something or other to say to make us merry, told me he would show\nme the greatest rarity in all the country, and that I should have this to\nsay of China, after all the ill-humoured things that I had said of it,\nthat I had seen one thing which was not to be seen in all the world\nbeside.  I was very importunate to know what it was; at last he told me\nit was a gentleman's house built with China ware.  \"Well,\" says I, \"are\nnot the materials of their buildings the products of their own country,\nand so it is all China ware, is it not?\"--\"No, no,\" says he, \"I mean it\nis a house all made of China ware, such as you call it in England, or as\nit is called in our country, porcelain.\"--\"Well,\" says I, \"such a thing\nmay be; how big is it?  Can we carry it in a box upon a camel?  If we can\nwe will buy it.\"--\"Upon a camel!\" says the old pilot, holding up both his\nhands; \"why, there is a family of thirty people lives in it.\"\nI was then curious, indeed, to see it; and when I came to it, it was\nnothing but this: it was a timber house, or a house built, as we call it\nin England, with lath and plaster, but all this plastering was really\nChina ware--that is to say, it was plastered with the earth that makes\nChina ware.  The outside, which the sun shone hot upon, was glazed, and\nlooked very well, perfectly white, and painted with blue figures, as the\nlarge China ware in England is painted, and hard as if it had been burnt.\nAs to the inside, all the walls, instead of wainscot, were lined with\nhardened and painted tiles, like the little square tiles we call galley-\ntiles in England, all made of the finest china, and the figures exceeding\nfine indeed, with extraordinary variety of colours, mixed with gold, many\ntiles making but one figure, but joined so artificially, the mortar being\nmade of the same earth, that it was very hard to see where the tiles met.\nThe floors of the rooms were of the same composition, and as hard as the\nearthen floors we have in use in several parts of England; as hard as\nstone, and smooth, but not burnt and painted, except some smaller rooms,\nlike closets, which were all, as it were, paved with the same tile; the\nceiling and all the plastering work in the whole house were of the same\nearth; and, after all, the roof was covered with tiles of the same, but\nof a deep shining black.  This was a China warehouse indeed, truly and\nliterally to be called so, and had I not been upon the journey, I could\nhave stayed some days to see and examine the particulars of it.  They\ntold me there were fountains and fishponds in the garden, all paved on\nthe bottom and sides with the same; and fine statues set up in rows on\nthe walks, entirely formed of the porcelain earth, burnt whole.\nAs this is one of the singularities of China, so they may be allowed to\nexcel in it; but I am very sure they excel in their accounts of it; for\nthey told me such incredible things of their performance in\ncrockery-ware, for such it is, that I care not to relate, as knowing it\ncould not be true.  They told me, in particular, of one workman that made\na ship with all its tackle and masts and sails in earthenware, big enough\nto carry fifty men.  If they had told me he launched it, and made a\nvoyage to Japan in it, I might have said something to it indeed; but as\nit was, I knew the whole of the story, which was, in short, that the\nfellow lied: so I smiled, and said nothing to it.  This odd sight kept me\ntwo hours behind the caravan, for which the leader of it for the day\nfined me about the value of three shillings; and told me if it had been\nthree days' journey without the wall, as it was three days' within, he\nmust have fined me four times as much, and made me ask pardon the next\ncouncil-day.  I promised to be more orderly; and, indeed, I found\nafterwards the orders made for keeping all together were absolutely\nnecessary for our common safety.\nIn two days more we passed the great China wall, made for a fortification\nagainst the Tartars: and a very great work it is, going over hills and\nmountains in an endless track, where the rocks are impassable, and the\nprecipices such as no enemy could possibly enter, or indeed climb up, or\nwhere, if they did, no wall could hinder them.  They tell us its length\nis near a thousand English miles, but that the country is five hundred in\na straight measured line, which the wall bounds without measuring the\nwindings and turnings it takes; it is about four fathoms high, and as\nmany thick in some places.\nI stood still an hour or thereabouts without trespassing on our orders\n(for so long the caravan was in passing the gate), to look at it on every\nside, near and far off; I mean what was within my view: and the guide,\nwho had been extolling it for the wonder of the world, was mighty eager\nto hear my opinion of it.  I told him it was a most excellent thing to\nkeep out the Tartars; which he happened not to understand as I meant it\nand so took it for a compliment; but the old pilot laughed!  \"Oh,\nSeignior Inglese,\" says he, \"you speak in colours.\"--\"In colours!\" said\nI; \"what do you mean by that?\"--\"Why, you speak what looks white this way\nand black that way--gay one way and dull another.  You tell him it is a\ngood wall to keep out Tartars; you tell me by that it is good for nothing\nbut to keep out Tartars.  I understand you, Seignior Inglese, I\nunderstand you; but Seignior Chinese understood you his own way.\"--\"Well,\"\nsays I, \"do you think it would stand out an army of our country people,\nwith a good train of artillery; or our engineers, with two companies of\nminers?  Would not they batter it down in ten days, that an army might\nenter in battalia; or blow it up in the air, foundation and all, that\nthere should be no sign of it left?\"--\"Ay, ay,\" says he, \"I know that.\"\nThe Chinese wanted mightily to know what I said to the pilot, and I gave\nhim leave to tell him a few days after, for we were then almost out of\ntheir country, and he was to leave us a little time after this; but when\nhe knew what I said, he was dumb all the rest of the way, and we heard no\nmore of his fine story of the Chinese power and greatness while he\nstayed.\nAfter we passed this mighty nothing, called a wall, something like the\nPicts' walls so famous in Northumberland, built by the Romans, we began\nto find the country thinly inhabited, and the people rather confined to\nlive in fortified towns, as being subject to the inroads and depredations\nof the Tartars, who rob in great armies, and therefore are not to be\nresisted by the naked inhabitants of an open country.  And here I began\nto find the necessity of keeping together in a caravan as we travelled,\nfor we saw several troops of Tartars roving about; but when I came to see\nthem distinctly, I wondered more that the Chinese empire could be\nconquered by such contemptible fellows; for they are a mere horde of wild\nfellows, keeping no order and understanding no discipline or manner of\nit.  Their horses are poor lean creatures, taught nothing, and fit for\nnothing; and this we found the first day we saw them, which was after we\nentered the wilder part of the country.  Our leader for the day gave\nleave for about sixteen of us to go a hunting as they call it; and what\nwas this but a hunting of sheep!--however, it may be called hunting too,\nfor these creatures are the wildest and swiftest of foot that ever I saw\nof their kind! only they will not run a great way, and you are sure of\nsport when you begin the chase, for they appear generally thirty or forty\nin a flock, and, like true sheep, always keep together when they fly.\nIn pursuit of this odd sort of game it was our hap to meet with about\nforty Tartars: whether they were hunting mutton, as we were, or whether\nthey looked for another kind of prey, we know not; but as soon as they\nsaw us, one of them blew a hideous blast on a kind of horn.  This was to\ncall their friends about them, and in less than ten minutes a troop of\nforty or fifty more appeared, at about a mile distance; but our work was\nover first, as it happened.\nOne of the Scots merchants of Moscow happened to be amongst us; and as\nsoon as he heard the horn, he told us that we had nothing to do but to\ncharge them without loss of time; and drawing us up in a line, he asked\nif we were resolved.  We told him we were ready to follow him; so he rode\ndirectly towards them.  They stood gazing at us like a mere crowd, drawn\nup in no sort of order at all; but as soon as they saw us advance, they\nlet fly their arrows, which missed us, very happily.  Not that they\nmistook their aim, but their distance; for their arrows all fell a little\nshort of us, but with so true an aim, that had we been about twenty yards\nnearer we must have had several men wounded, if not killed.\nImmediately we halted, and though it was at a great distance, we fired,\nand sent them leaden bullets for wooden arrows, following our shot full\ngallop, to fall in among them sword in hand--for so our bold Scot that\nled us directed.  He was, indeed, but a merchant, but he behaved with\nsuch vigour and bravery on this occasion, and yet with such cool courage\ntoo, that I never saw any man in action fitter for command.  As soon as\nwe came up to them we fired our pistols in their faces and then drew; but\nthey fled in the greatest confusion imaginable.  The only stand any of\nthem made was on our right, where three of them stood, and, by signs,\ncalled the rest to come back to them, having a kind of scimitar in their\nhands, and their bows hanging to their backs.  Our brave commander,\nwithout asking anybody to follow him, gallops up close to them, and with\nhis fusee knocks one of them off his horse, killed the second with his\npistol, and the third ran away.  Thus ended our fight; but we had this\nmisfortune attending it, that all our mutton we had in chase got away.  We\nhad not a man killed or hurt; as for the Tartars, there were about five\nof them killed--how many were wounded we knew not; but this we knew, that\nthe other party were so frightened with the noise of our guns that they\nfled, and never made any attempt upon us.\nWe were all this while in the Chinese dominions, and therefore the\nTartars were not so bold as afterwards; but in about five days we entered\na vast wild desert, which held us three days' and nights' march; and we\nwere obliged to carry our water with us in great leathern bottles, and to\nencamp all night, just as I have heard they do in the desert of Arabia.  I\nasked our guides whose dominion this was in, and they told me this was a\nkind of border that might be called no man's land, being a part of Great\nKarakathy, or Grand Tartary: that, however, it was all reckoned as\nbelonging to China, but that there was no care taken here to preserve it\nfrom the inroads of thieves, and therefore it was reckoned the worst\ndesert in the whole march, though we were to go over some much larger.\nIn passing this frightful wilderness we saw, two or three times, little\nparties of the Tartars, but they seemed to be upon their own affairs, and\nto have no design upon us; and so, like the man who met the devil, if\nthey had nothing to say to us, we had nothing to say to them: we let them\ngo.  Once, however, a party of them came so near as to stand and gaze at\nus.  Whether it was to consider if they should attack us or not, we knew\nnot; but when we had passed at some distance by them, we made a\nrear-guard of forty men, and stood ready for them, letting the caravan\npass half a mile or thereabouts before us.  After a while they marched\noff, but they saluted us with five arrows at their parting, which wounded\na horse so that it disabled him, and we left him the next day, poor\ncreature, in great need of a good farrier.  We saw no more arrows or\nTartars that time.\nWe travelled near a month after this, the ways not being so good as at\nfirst, though still in the dominions of the Emperor of China, but lay for\nthe most part in the villages, some of which were fortified, because of\nthe incursions of the Tartars.  When we were come to one of these towns\n(about two days and a half's journey before we came to the city of Naum),\nI wanted to buy a camel, of which there are plenty to be sold all the way\nupon that road, and horses also, such as they are, because, so many\ncaravans coming that way, they are often wanted.  The person that I spoke\nto to get me a camel would have gone and fetched one for me; but I, like\na fool, must be officious, and go myself along with him; the place was\nabout two miles out of the village, where it seems they kept the camels\nand horses feeding under a guard.\nI walked it on foot, with my old pilot and a Chinese, being very desirous\nof a little variety.  When we came to the place it was a low, marshy\nground, walled round with stones, piled up dry, without mortar or earth\namong them, like a park, with a little guard of Chinese soldiers at the\ndoor.  Having bought a camel, and agreed for the price, I came away, and\nthe Chinese that went with me led the camel, when on a sudden came up\nfive Tartars on horseback.  Two of them seized the fellow and took the\ncamel from him, while the other three stepped up to me and my old pilot,\nseeing us, as it were, unarmed, for I had no weapon about me but my\nsword, which could but ill defend me against three horsemen.  The first\nthat came up stopped short upon my drawing my sword, for they are arrant\ncowards; but a second, coming upon my left, gave me a blow on the head,\nwhich I never felt till afterwards, and wondered, when I came to myself,\nwhat was the matter, and where I was, for he laid me flat on the ground;\nbut my never-failing old pilot, the Portuguese, had a pistol in his\npocket, which I knew nothing of, nor the Tartars either: if they had, I\nsuppose they would not have attacked us, for cowards are always boldest\nwhen there is no danger.  The old man seeing me down, with a bold heart\nstepped up to the fellow that had struck me, and laying hold of his arm\nwith one hand, and pulling him down by main force a little towards him,\nwith the other shot him into the head, and laid him dead upon the spot.\nHe then immediately stepped up to him who had stopped us, as I said, and\nbefore he could come forward again, made a blow at him with a scimitar,\nwhich he always wore, but missing the man, struck his horse in the side\nof his head, cut one of the ears off by the root, and a great slice down\nby the side of his face.  The poor beast, enraged with the wound, was no\nmore to be governed by his rider, though the fellow sat well enough too,\nbut away he flew, and carried him quite out of the pilot's reach; and at\nsome distance, rising upon his hind legs, threw down the Tartar, and fell\nupon him.\nIn this interval the poor Chinese came in who had lost the camel, but he\nhad no weapon; however, seeing the Tartar down, and his horse fallen upon\nhim, away he runs to him, and seizing upon an ugly weapon he had by his\nside, something like a pole-axe, he wrenched it from him, and made shift\nto knock his Tartarian brains out with it.  But my old man had the third\nTartar to deal with still; and seeing he did not fly, as he expected, nor\ncome on to fight him, as he apprehended, but stood stock still, the old\nman stood still too, and fell to work with his tackle to charge his\npistol again: but as soon as the Tartar saw the pistol away he scoured,\nand left my pilot, my champion I called him afterwards, a complete\nvictory.\nBy this time I was a little recovered.  I thought, when I first began to\nwake, that I had been in a sweet sleep; but, as I said above, I wondered\nwhere I was, how I came upon the ground, and what was the matter.  A few\nmoments after, as sense returned, I felt pain, though I did not know\nwhere; so I clapped my hand to my head, and took it away bloody; then I\nfelt my head ache: and in a moment memory returned, and everything was\npresent to me again.  I jumped upon my feet instantly, and got hold of my\nsword, but no enemies were in view: I found a Tartar lying dead, and his\nhorse standing very quietly by him; and, looking further, I saw my\ndeliverer, who had been to see what the Chinese had done, coming back\nwith his hanger in his hand.  The old man, seeing me on my feet, came\nrunning to me, and joyfully embraced me, being afraid before that I had\nbeen killed.  Seeing me bloody, he would see how I was hurt; but it was\nnot much, only what we call a broken head; neither did I afterwards find\nany great inconvenience from the blow, for it was well again in two or\nthree days.\nWe made no great gain, however, by this victory, for we lost a camel and\ngained a horse.  I paid for the lost camel, and sent for another; but I\ndid not go to fetch it myself: I had had enough of that.\nThe city of Naum, which we were approaching, is a frontier of the Chinese\nempire, and is fortified in their fashion.  We wanted, as I have said,\nabove two days' journey of this city when messengers were sent express to\nevery part of the road to tell all travellers and caravans to halt till\nthey had a guard sent for them; for that an unusual body of Tartars,\nmaking ten thousand in all, had appeared in the way, about thirty miles\nbeyond the city.\nThis was very bad news to travellers: however, it was carefully done of\nthe governor, and we were very glad to hear we should have a guard.\nAccordingly, two days after, we had two hundred soldiers sent us from a\ngarrison of the Chinese on our left, and three hundred more from the city\nof Naum, and with these we advanced boldly.  The three hundred soldiers\nfrom Naum marched in our front, the two hundred in our rear, and our men\non each side of our camels, with our baggage and the whole caravan in the\ncentre; in this order, and well prepared for battle, we thought ourselves\na match for the whole ten thousand Mogul Tartars, if they had appeared;\nbut the next day, when they did appear, it was quite another thing.\nCHAPTER XV--DESCRIPTION OF AN IDOL, WHICH THEY DESTROY\nEarly in the morning, when marching from a little town called Changu, we\nhad a river to pass, which we were obliged to ferry; and, had the Tartars\nhad any intelligence, then had been the time to have attacked us, when\nthe caravan being over, the rear-guard was behind; but they did not\nappear there.  About three hours after, when we were entered upon a\ndesert of about fifteen or sixteen miles over, we knew by a cloud of dust\nthey raised, that the enemy was at hand, and presently they came on upon\nthe spur.\nOur Chinese guards in the front, who had talked so big the day before,\nbegan to stagger; and the soldiers frequently looked behind them, a\ncertain sign in a soldier that he is just ready to run away.  My old\npilot was of my mind; and being near me, called out, \"Seignior Inglese,\nthese fellows must be encouraged, or they will ruin us all; for if the\nTartars come on they will never stand it.\"--\"If am of your mind,\" said I;\n\"but what must be done?\"--\"Done?\" says he, \"let fifty of our men advance,\nand flank them on each wing, and encourage them.  They will fight like\nbrave fellows in brave company; but without this they will every man turn\nhis back.\"  Immediately I rode up to our leader and told him, who was\nexactly of our mind; accordingly, fifty of us marched to the right wing,\nand fifty to the left, and the rest made a line of rescue; and so we\nmarched, leaving the last two hundred men to make a body of themselves,\nand to guard the camels; only that, if need were, they should send a\nhundred men to assist the last fifty.\nAt last the Tartars came on, and an innumerable company they were; how\nmany we could not tell, but ten thousand, we thought, at the least.  A\nparty of them came on first, and viewed our posture, traversing the\nground in the front of our line; and, as we found them within gunshot,\nour leader ordered the two wings to advance swiftly, and give them a\nsalvo on each wing with their shot, which was done.  They then went off,\nI suppose to give an account of the reception they were like to meet\nwith; indeed, that salute cloyed their stomachs, for they immediately\nhalted, stood a while to consider of it, and wheeling off to the left,\nthey gave over their design for that time, which was very agreeable to\nour circumstances.\nTwo days after we came to the city of Naun, or Naum; we thanked the\ngovernor for his care of us, and collected to the value of a hundred\ncrowns, or thereabouts, which we gave to the soldiers sent to guard us;\nand here we rested one day.  This is a garrison indeed, and there were\nnine hundred soldiers kept here; but the reason of it was, that formerly\nthe Muscovite frontiers lay nearer to them than they now do, the\nMuscovites having abandoned that part of the country, which lies from\nthis city west for about two hundred miles, as desolate and unfit for\nuse; and more especially being so very remote, and so difficult to send\ntroops thither for its defence; for we were yet above two thousand miles\nfrom Muscovy properly so called.  After this we passed several great\nrivers, and two dreadful deserts; one of which we were sixteen days\npassing over; and on the 13th of April we came to the frontiers of the\nMuscovite dominions.  I think the first town or fortress, whichever it\nmay he called, that belonged to the Czar, was called Arguna, being on the\nwest side of the river Arguna.\nI could not but feel great satisfaction that I was arrived in a country\ngoverned by Christians; for though the Muscovites do, in my opinion, but\njust deserve the name of Christians, yet such they pretend to be, and are\nvery devout in their way.  It would certainly occur to any reflecting man\nwho travels the world as I have done, what a blessing it is to be brought\ninto the world where the name of God and a Redeemer is known, adored, and\nworshipped; and not where the people, given up to strong delusions,\nworship the devil, and prostrate themselves to monsters, elements, horrid-\nshaped animals, and monstrous images.  Not a town or city we passed\nthrough but had their pagodas, their idols, and their temples, and\nignorant people worshipping even the works of their own hands.  Now we\ncame where, at least, a face of the Christian worship appeared; where the\nknee was bowed to Jesus: and whether ignorantly or not, yet the Christian\nreligion was owned, and the name of the true God was called upon and\nadored; and it made my soul rejoice to see it.  I saluted the brave Scots\nmerchant with my first acknowledgment of this; and taking him by the\nhand, I said to him, \"Blessed be God, we are once again amongst\nChristians.\"  He smiled, and answered, \"Do not rejoice too soon,\ncountryman; these Muscovites are but an odd sort of Christians; and but\nfor the name of it you may see very little of the substance for some\nmonths further of our journey.\"--\"Well,\" says I, \"but still it is better\nthan paganism, and worshipping of devils.\"--\"Why, I will tell you,\" says\nhe; \"except the Russian soldiers in the garrisons, and a few of the\ninhabitants of the cities upon the road, all the rest of this country,\nfor above a thousand miles farther, is inhabited by the worst and most\nignorant of pagans.\"  And so, indeed, we found it.\nWe now launched into the greatest piece of solid earth that is to be\nfound in any part of the world; we had, at least, twelve thousand miles\nto the sea eastward; two thousand to the bottom of the Baltic Sea\nwestward; and above three thousand, if we left that sea, and went on\nwest, to the British and French channels: we had full five thousand miles\nto the Indian or Persian Sea south; and about eight hundred to the Frozen\nSea north.\nWe advanced from the river Arguna by easy and moderate journeys, and were\nvery visibly obliged to the care the Czar has taken to have cities and\ntowns built in as many places as it is possible to place them, where his\nsoldiers keep garrison, something like the stationary soldiers placed by\nthe Romans in the remotest countries of their empire; some of which I had\nread of were placed in Britain, for the security of commerce, and for the\nlodging of travellers.  Thus it was here; for wherever we came, though at\nthese towns and stations the garrisons and governors were Russians, and\nprofessed Christians, yet the inhabitants were mere pagans, sacrificing\nto idols, and worshipping the sun, moon, and stars, or all the host of\nheaven; and not only so, but were, of all the heathens and pagans that\never I met with, the most barbarous, except only that they did not eat\nmen's flesh.\nSome instances of this we met with in the country between Arguna, where\nwe enter the Muscovite dominions, and a city of Tartars and Russians\ntogether, called Nortziousky, in which is a continued desert or forest,\nwhich cost us twenty days to travel over.  In a village near the last of\nthese places I had the curiosity to go and see their way of living, which\nis most brutish and unsufferable.  They had, I suppose, a great sacrifice\nthat day; for there stood out, upon an old stump of a tree, a diabolical\nkind of idol made of wood; it was dressed up, too, in the most filthy\nmanner; its upper garment was of sheepskins, with the wool outward; a\ngreat Tartar bonnet on the head, with two horns growing through it; it\nwas about eight feet high, yet had no feet or legs, nor any other\nproportion of parts.\nThis scarecrow was set up at the outer side of the village; and when I\ncame near to it there were sixteen or seventeen creatures all lying flat\nupon the ground round this hideous block of wood; I saw no motion among\nthem, any more than if they had been all logs, like the idol, and at\nfirst I really thought they had been so; but, when I came a little\nnearer, they started up upon their feet, and raised a howl, as if it had\nbeen so many deep-mouthed hounds, and walked away, as if they were\ndispleased at our disturbing them.  A little way off from the idol, and\nat the door of a hut, made of sheep and cow skins dried, stood three men\nwith long knives in their hands; and in the middle of the tent appeared\nthree sheep killed, and one young bullock.  These, it seems, were\nsacrifices to that senseless log of an idol; the three men were priests\nbelonging to it, and the seventeen prostrated wretches were the people\nwho brought the offering, and were offering their prayers to that stock.\nI confess I was more moved at their stupidity and brutish worship of a\nhobgoblin than ever I was at anything in my life, and, overcome with\nrage, I rode up to the hideous idol, and with my sword made a stroke at\nthe bonnet that was on its head, and cut it in two; and one of our men\nthat was with me, taking hold of the sheepskin that covered it, pulled at\nit, when, behold, a most hideous outcry ran through the village, and two\nor three hundred people came about my ears, so that I was glad to scour\nfor it, for some had bows and arrows; but I resolved from that moment to\nvisit them again.  Our caravan rested three nights at the town, which was\nabout four miles off, in order to provide some horses which they wanted,\nseveral of the horses having been lamed and jaded with the long march\nover the last desert; so we had some leisure here to put my design in\nexecution.  I communicated it to the Scots merchant, of whose courage I\nhad sufficient testimony; I told him what I had seen, and with what\nindignation I had since thought that human nature could be so degenerate;\nI told him if I could get but four or five men well armed to go with me,\nI was resolved to go and destroy that vile, abominable idol, and let them\nsee that it had no power to help itself, and consequently could not be an\nobject of worship, or to be prayed to, much less help them that offered\nsacrifices to it.\nHe at first objected to my plan as useless, seeing that, owing to the\ngross ignorance of the people, they could not be brought to profit by the\nlesson I meant to teach them; and added that, from his knowledge of the\ncountry and its customs, he feared we should fall into great peril by\ngiving offence to these brutal idol worshippers.  This somewhat stayed my\npurpose, but I was still uneasy all that day to put my project in\nexecution; and that evening, meeting the Scots merchant in our walk about\nthe town, I again called upon him to aid me in it.  When he found me\nresolute he said that, on further thoughts, he could not but applaud the\ndesign, and told me I should not go alone, but he would go with me; but\nhe would go first and bring a stout fellow, one of his countrymen, to go\nalso with us; \"and one,\" said he, \"as famous for his zeal as you can\ndesire any one to be against such devilish things as these.\"  So we\nagreed to go, only we three and my man-servant, and resolved to put it in\nexecution the following night about midnight, with all possible secrecy.\nWe thought it better to delay it till the next night, because the caravan\nbeing to set forward in the morning, we suppose the governor could not\npretend to give them any satisfaction upon us when we were out of his\npower.  The Scots merchant, as steady in his resolution for the\nenterprise as bold in executing, brought me a Tartar's robe or gown of\nsheepskins, and a bonnet, with a bow and arrows, and had provided the\nsame for himself and his countryman, that the people, if they saw us,\nshould not determine who we were.  All the first night we spent in mixing\nup some combustible matter, with aqua vitae, gunpowder, and such other\nmaterials as we could get; and having a good quantity of tar in a little\npot, about an hour after night we set out upon our expedition.\nWe came to the place about eleven o'clock at night, and found that the\npeople had not the least suspicion of danger attending their idol.  The\nnight was cloudy: yet the moon gave us light enough to see that the idol\nstood just in the same posture and place that it did before.  The people\nseemed to be all at their rest; only that in the great hut, where we saw\nthe three priests, we saw a light, and going up close to the door, we\nheard people talking as if there were five or six of them; we concluded,\ntherefore, that if we set wildfire to the idol, those men would come out\nimmediately, and run up to the place to rescue it from destruction; and\nwhat to do with them we knew not.  Once we thought of carrying it away,\nand setting fire to it at a distance; but when we came to handle it, we\nfound it too bulky for our carriage, so we were at a loss again.  The\nsecond Scotsman was for setting fire to the hut, and knocking the\ncreatures that were there on the head when they came out; but I could not\njoin with that; I was against killing them, if it were possible to avoid\nit.  \"Well, then,\" said the Scots merchant, \"I will tell you what we will\ndo: we will try to make them prisoners, tie their hands, and make them\nstand and see their idol destroyed.\"\nAs it happened, we had twine or packthread enough about us, which we used\nto tie our firelocks together with; so we resolved to attack these people\nfirst, and with as little noise as we could.  The first thing we did, we\nknocked at the door, when one of the priests coming to it, we immediately\nseized upon him, stopped his mouth, and tied his hands behind him, and\nled him to the idol, where we gagged him that he might not make a noise,\ntied his feet also together, and left him on the ground.\nTwo of us then waited at the door, expecting that another would come out\nto see what the matter was; but we waited so long till the third man came\nback to us; and then nobody coming out, we knocked again gently, and\nimmediately out came two more, and we served them just in the same\nmanner, but were obliged to go all with them, and lay them down by the\nidol some distance from one another; when, going back, we found two more\nwere come out of the door, and a third stood behind them within the door.\nWe seized the two, and immediately tied them, when the third, stepping\nback and crying out, my Scots merchant went in after them, and taking out\na composition we had made that would only smoke and stink, he set fire to\nit, and threw it in among them.  By that time the other Scotsman and my\nman, taking charge of the two men already bound, and tied together also\nby the arm, led them away to the idol, and left them there, to see if\ntheir idol would relieve them, making haste back to us.\nWhen the fuze we had thrown in had filled the hut with so much smoke that\nthey were almost suffocated, we threw in a small leather bag of another\nkind, which flamed like a candle, and, following it in, we found there\nwere but four people, who, as we supposed, had been about some of their\ndiabolical sacrifices.  They appeared, in short, frightened to death, at\nleast so as to sit trembling and stupid, and not able to speak either,\nfor the smoke.\nWe quickly took them from the hut, where the smoke soon drove us out,\nbound them as we had done the other, and all without any noise.  Then we\ncarried them all together to the idol; when we came there, we fell to\nwork with him.  First, we daubed him all over, and his robes also, with\ntar, and tallow mixed with brimstone; then we stopped his eyes and ears\nand mouth full of gunpowder, and wrapped up a great piece of wildfire in\nhis bonnet; then sticking all the combustibles we had brought with us\nupon him, we looked about to see if we could find anything else to help\nto burn him; when my Scotsman remembered that by the hut, where the men\nwere, there lay a heap of dry forage; away he and the other Scotsman ran\nand fetched their arms full of that.  When we had done this, we took all\nour prisoners, and brought them, having untied their feet and ungagged\ntheir mouths, and made them stand up, and set them before their monstrous\nidol, and then set fire to the whole.\nWe stayed by it a quarter of an hour or thereabouts, till the powder in\nthe eyes and mouth and ears of the idol blew up, and, as we could\nperceive, had split altogether; and in a word, till we saw it burned so\nthat it would soon be quite consumed.  We then began to think of going\naway; but the Scotsman said, \"No, we must not go, for these poor deluded\nwretches will all throw themselves into the fire, and burn themselves\nwith the idol.\"  So we resolved to stay till the forage has burned down\ntoo, and then came away and left them.  After the feat was performed, we\nappeared in the morning among our fellow-travellers, exceedingly busy in\ngetting ready for our journey; nor could any man suppose that we had been\nanywhere but in our beds.\nBut the affair did not end so; the next day came a great number of the\ncountry people to the town gates, and in a most outrageous manner\ndemanded satisfaction of the Russian governor for the insulting their\npriests and burning their great Cham Chi-Thaungu.  The people of\nNertsinkay were at first in a great consternation, for they said the\nTartars were already no less than thirty thousand strong.  The Russian\ngovernor sent out messengers to appease them, assuring them that he knew\nnothing of it, and that there had not a soul in his garrison been abroad,\nso that it could not be from anybody there: but if they could let him\nknow who did it, they should be exemplarily punished.  They returned\nhaughtily, that all the country reverenced the great Cham Chi-Thaungu,\nwho dwelt in the sun, and no mortal would have dared to offer violence to\nhis image but some Christian miscreant; and they therefore resolved to\ndenounce war against him and all the Russians, who, they said, were\nmiscreants and Christians.\nThe governor, unwilling to make a breach, or to have any cause of war\nalleged to be given by him, the Czar having strictly charged him to treat\nthe conquered country with gentleness, gave them all the good words he\ncould.  At last he told them there was a caravan gone towards Russia that\nmorning, and perhaps it was some of them who had done them this injury;\nand that if they would be satisfied with that, he would send after them\nto inquire into it.  This seemed to appease them a little; and\naccordingly the governor sent after us, and gave us a particular account\nhow the thing was; intimating withal, that if any in our caravan had done\nit they should make their escape; but that whether we had done it or no,\nwe should make all the haste forward that was possible: and that, in the\nmeantime, he would keep them in play as long as he could.\nThis was very friendly in the governor; however, when it came to the\ncaravan, there was nobody knew anything of the matter; and as for us that\nwere guilty, we were least of all suspected.  However, the captain of the\ncaravan for the time took the hint that the governor gave us, and we\ntravelled two days and two nights without any considerable stop, and then\nwe lay at a village called Plothus: nor did we make any long stop here,\nbut hastened on towards Jarawena, another Muscovite colony, and where we\nexpected we should be safe.  But upon the second day's march from\nPlothus, by the clouds of dust behind us at a great distance, it was\nplain we were pursued.  We had entered a vast desert, and had passed by a\ngreat lake called Schanks Oser, when we perceived a large body of horse\nappear on the other side of the lake, to the north, we travelling west.\nWe observed they went away west, as we did, but had supposed we would\nhave taken that side of the lake, whereas we very happily took the south\nside; and in two days more they disappeared again: for they, believing we\nwere still before them, pushed on till they came to the Udda, a very\ngreat river when it passes farther north, but when we came to it we found\nit narrow and fordable.\nThe third day they had either found their mistake, or had intelligence of\nus, and came pouring in upon us towards dusk.  We had, to our great\nsatisfaction, just pitched upon a convenient place for our camp; for as\nwe had just entered upon a desert above five hundred miles over, where we\nhad no towns to lodge at, and, indeed, expected none but the city\nJarawena, which we had yet two days' march to; the desert, however, had\nsome few woods in it on this side, and little rivers, which ran all into\nthe great river Udda; it was in a narrow strait, between little but very\nthick woods, that we pitched our camp that night, expecting to be\nattacked before morning.  As it was usual for the Mogul Tartars to go\nabout in troops in that desert, so the caravans always fortify themselves\nevery night against them, as against armies of robbers; and it was,\ntherefore, no new thing to be pursued.  But we had this night a most\nadvantageous camp: for as we lay between two woods, with a little rivulet\nrunning just before our front, we could not be surrounded, or attacked\nany way but in our front or rear.  We took care also to make our front as\nstrong as we could, by placing our packs, with the camels and horses, all\nin a line, on the inside of the river, and felling some trees in our\nrear.\nIn this posture we encamped for the night; but the enemy was upon us\nbefore we had finished.  They did not come on like thieves, as we\nexpected, but sent three messengers to us, to demand the men to be\ndelivered to them that had abused their priests and burned their idol,\nthat they might burn them with fire; and upon this, they said, they would\ngo away, and do us no further harm, otherwise they would destroy us all.\nOur men looked very blank at this message, and began to stare at one\nanother to see who looked with the most guilt in their faces; but nobody\nwas the word--nobody did it.  The leader of the caravan sent word he was\nwell assured that it was not done by any of our camp; that we were\npeaceful merchants, travelling on our business; that we had done no harm\nto them or to any one else; and that, therefore, they must look further\nfor the enemies who had injured them, for we were not the people; so they\ndesired them not to disturb us, for if they did we should defend\nourselves.\nThey were far from being satisfied with this for an answer: and a great\ncrowd of them came running down in the morning, by break of day, to our\ncamp; but seeing us so well posted, they durst come no farther than the\nbrook in our front, where they stood in such number as to terrify us very\nmuch; indeed, some spoke of ten thousand.  Here they stood and looked at\nus a while, and then, setting up a great howl, let fly a crowd of arrows\namong us; but we were well enough sheltered under our baggage, and I do\nnot remember that one of us was hurt.\nSome time after this we saw them move a little to our right, and expected\nthem on the rear: when a cunning fellow, a Cossack of Jarawena, calling\nto the leader of the caravan, said to him, \"I will send all these people\naway to Sibeilka.\"  This was a city four or five days' journey at least\nto the right, and rather behind us.  So he takes his bow and arrows, and\ngetting on horseback, he rides away from our rear directly, as it were\nback to Nertsinskay; after this he takes a great circuit about, and comes\ndirectly on the army of the Tartars as if he had been sent express to\ntell them a long story that the people who had burned the Cham\nChi-Thaungu were gone to Sibeilka, with a caravan of miscreants, as he\ncalled them--that is to say, Christians; and that they had resolved to\nburn the god Scal-Isar, belonging to the Tonguses.  As this fellow was\nhimself a Tartar, and perfectly spoke their language, he counterfeited so\nwell that they all believed him, and away they drove in a violent hurry\nto Sibeilka.  In less than three hours they were entirely out of our\nsight, and we never heard any more of them, nor whether they went to\nSibeilka or no.  So we passed away safely on to Jarawena, where there was\na Russian garrison, and there we rested five days.\nFrom this city we had a frightful desert, which held us twenty-three\ndays' march.  We furnished ourselves with some tents here, for the better\naccommodating ourselves in the night; and the leader of the caravan\nprocured sixteen waggons of the country, for carrying our water or\nprovisions, and these carriages were our defence every night round our\nlittle camp; so that had the Tartars appeared, unless they had been very\nnumerous indeed, they would not have been able to hurt us.  We may well\nbe supposed to have wanted rest again after this long journey; for in\nthis desert we neither saw house nor tree, and scarce a bush; though we\nsaw abundance of the sable-hunters, who are all Tartars of Mogul Tartary;\nof which this country is a part; and they frequently attack small\ncaravans, but we saw no numbers of them together.\nAfter we had passed this desert we came into a country pretty well\ninhabited--that is to say, we found towns and castles, settled by the\nCzar with garrisons of stationary soldiers, to protect the caravans and\ndefend the country against the Tartars, who would otherwise make it very\ndangerous travelling; and his czarish majesty has given such strict\norders for the well guarding the caravans, that, if there are any Tartars\nheard of in the country, detachments of the garrison are always sent to\nsee the travellers safe from station to station.  Thus the governor of\nAdinskoy, whom I had an opportunity to make a visit to, by means of the\nScots merchant, who was acquainted with him, offered us a guard of fifty\nmen, if we thought there was any danger, to the next station.\nI thought, long before this, that as we came nearer to Europe we should\nfind the country better inhabited, and the people more civilised; but I\nfound myself mistaken in both: for we had yet the nation of the Tonguses\nto pass through, where we saw the same tokens of paganism and barbarity\nas before; only, as they were conquered by the Muscovites, they were not\nso dangerous, but for rudeness of manners and idolatry no people in the\nworld ever went beyond them.  They are all clothed in skins of beasts,\nand their houses are built of the same; you know not a man from a woman,\nneither by the ruggedness of their countenances nor their clothes; and in\nthe winter, when the ground is covered with snow, they live underground\nin vaults, which have cavities going from one to another.  If the Tartars\nhad their Cham Chi-Thaungu for a whole village or country, these had\nidols in every hut and every cave.  This country, I reckon, was, from the\ndesert I spoke of last, at least four hundred miles, half of it being\nanother desert, which took us up twelve days' severe travelling, without\nhouse or tree; and we were obliged again to carry our own provisions, as\nwell water as bread.  After we were out of this desert and had travelled\ntwo days, we came to Janezay, a Muscovite city or station, on the great\nriver Janezay, which, they told us there, parted Europe from Asia.\nAll the country between the river Oby and the river Janezay is as\nentirely pagan, and the people as barbarous, as the remotest of the\nTartars.  I also found, which I observed to the Muscovite governors whom\nI had an opportunity to converse with, that the poor pagans are not much\nwiser, or nearer Christianity, for being under the Muscovite government,\nwhich they acknowledged was true enough--but that, as they said, was none\nof their business; that if the Czar expected to convert his Siberian,\nTonguse, or Tartar subjects, it should be done by sending clergymen among\nthem, not soldiers; and they added, with more sincerity than I expected,\nthat it was not so much the concern of their monarch to make the people\nChristians as to make them subjects.\nFrom this river to the Oby we crossed a wild uncultivated country, barren\nof people and good management, otherwise it is in itself a pleasant,\nfruitful, and agreeable country.  What inhabitants we found in it are all\npagans, except such as are sent among them from Russia; for this is the\ncountry--I mean on both sides the river Oby--whither the Muscovite\ncriminals that are not put to death are banished, and from whence it is\nnext to impossible they should ever get away.  I have nothing material to\nsay of my particular affairs till I came to Tobolski, the capital city of\nSiberia, where I continued some time on the following account.\nWe had now been almost seven months on our journey, and winter began to\ncome on apace; whereupon my partner and I called a council about our\nparticular affairs, in which we found it proper, as we were bound for\nEngland, to consider how to dispose of ourselves.  They told us of\nsledges and reindeer to carry us over the snow in the winter time, by\nwhich means, indeed, the Russians travel more in winter than they can in\nsummer, as in these sledges they are able to run night and day: the snow,\nbeing frozen, is one universal covering to nature, by which the hills,\nvales, rivers, and lakes are all smooth and hard is a stone, and they run\nupon the surface, without any regard to what is underneath.\nBut I had no occasion to urge a winter journey of this kind.  I was bound\nto England, not to Moscow, and my route lay two ways: either I must go on\nas the caravan went, till I came to Jarislaw, and then go off west for\nNarva and the Gulf of Finland, and so on to Dantzic, where I might\npossibly sell my China cargo to good advantage; or I must leave the\ncaravan at a little town on the Dwina, from whence I had but six days by\nwater to Archangel, and from thence might be sure of shipping either to\nEngland, Holland, or Hamburg.\nNow, to go any one of these journeys in the winter would have been\npreposterous; for as to Dantzic, the Baltic would have been frozen up and\nI could not get passage; and to go by land in those countries was far\nless safe than among the Mogul Tartars; likewise, as to Archangel in\nOctober, all the ships would be gone from thence, and even the merchants\nwho dwell there in summer retire south to Moscow in the winter, when the\nships are gone; so that I could have nothing but extremity of cold to\nencounter, with a scarcity of provisions, and must lie in an empty town\nall the winter.  Therefore, upon the whole, I thought it much my better\nway to let the caravan go, and make provision to winter where I was, at\nTobolski, in Siberia, in the latitude of about sixty degrees, where I was\nsure of three things to wear out a cold winter with, viz. plenty of\nprovisions, such as the country afforded, a warm house, with fuel enough,\nand excellent company.\nI was now in quite a different climate from my beloved island, where I\nnever felt cold, except when I had my ague; on the contrary, I had much\nto do to bear any clothes on my back, and never made any fire but without\ndoors, which was necessary for dressing my food, &c.  Now I had three\ngood vests, with large robes or gowns over them, to hang down to the\nfeet, and button close to the wrists; and all these lined with furs, to\nmake them sufficiently warm.  As to a warm house, I must confess I\ngreatly dislike our way in England of making fires in every room of the\nhouse in open chimneys, which, when the fire is out, always keeps the air\nin the room cold as the climate.  So I took an apartment in a good house\nin the town, and ordered a chimney to be built like a furnace, in the\ncentre of six several rooms, like a stove; the funnel to carry the smoke\nwent up one way, the door to come at the fire went in another, and all\nthe rooms were kept equally warm, but no fire seen, just as they heat\nbaths in England.  By this means we had always the same climate in all\nthe rooms, and an equal heat was preserved, and yet we saw no fire, nor\nwere ever incommoded with smoke.\nThe most wonderful thing of all was, that it should be possible to meet\nwith good company here, in a country so barbarous as this--one of the\nmost northerly parts of Europe.  But this being the country where the\nstate criminals of Muscovy, as I observed before, are all banished, the\ncity was full of Russian noblemen, gentlemen, soldiers, and courtiers.\nHere was the famous Prince Galitzin, the old German Robostiski, and\nseveral other persons of note, and some ladies.  By means of my Scotch\nmerchant, whom, nevertheless, I parted with here, I made an acquaintance\nwith several of these gentlemen; and from these, in the long winter\nnights in which I stayed here, I received several very agreeable visits.\nCHAPTER XVI--SAFE ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND\nIt was talking one night with a certain prince, one of the banished\nministers of state belonging to the Czar, that the discourse of my\nparticular case began.  He had been telling me abundance of fine things\nof the greatness, the magnificence, the dominions, and the absolute power\nof the Emperor of the Russians: I interrupted him, and told him I was a\ngreater and more powerful prince than ever the Czar was, though my\ndominion were not so large, or my people so many.  The Russian grandee\nlooked a little surprised, and, fixing his eyes steadily upon me, began\nto wonder what I meant.  I said his wonder would cease when I had\nexplained myself, and told him the story at large of my living in the\nisland; and then how I managed both myself and the people that were under\nme, just as I have since minuted it down.  They were exceedingly taken\nwith the story, and especially the prince, who told me, with a sigh, that\nthe true greatness of life was to be masters of ourselves; that he would\nnot have exchanged such a state of life as mine to be Czar of Muscovy;\nand that he found more felicity in the retirement he seemed to be\nbanished to there, than ever he found in the highest authority he enjoyed\nin the court of his master the Czar; that the height of human wisdom was\nto bring our tempers down to our circumstances, and to make a calm\nwithin, under the weight of the greatest storms without.  When he came\nfirst hither, he said, he used to tear the hair from his head, and the\nclothes from his back, as others had done before him; but a little time\nand consideration had made him look into himself, as well as round him to\nthings without; that he found the mind of man, if it was but once brought\nto reflect upon the state of universal life, and how little this world\nwas concerned in its true felicity, was perfectly capable of making a\nfelicity for itself, fully satisfying to itself, and suitable to its own\nbest ends and desires, with but very little assistance from the world.\nThat being now deprived of all the fancied felicity which he enjoyed in\nthe full exercise of worldly pleasures, he said he was at leisure to look\nupon the dark side of them, where he found all manner of deformity; and\nwas now convinced that virtue only makes a man truly wise, rich, and\ngreat, and preserves him in the way to a superior happiness in a future\nstate; and in this, he said, they were more happy in their banishment\nthan all their enemies were, who had the full possession of all the\nwealth and power they had left behind them.  \"Nor, sir,\" says he, \"do I\nbring my mind to this politically, from the necessity of my\ncircumstances, which some call miserable; but, if I know anything of\nmyself, I would not now go back, though the Czar my master should call\nme, and reinstate me in all my former grandeur.\"\nHe spoke this with so much warmth in his temper, so much earnestness and\nmotion of his spirits, that it was evident it was the true sense of his\nsoul; there was no room to doubt his sincerity.  I told him I once\nthought myself a kind of monarch in my old station, of which I had given\nhim an account; but that I thought he was not only a monarch, but a great\nconqueror; for he that had got a victory over his own exorbitant desires,\nand the absolute dominion over himself, he whose reason entirely governs\nhis will, is certainly greater than he that conquers a city.\nI had been here eight months, and a dark, dreadful winter I thought it;\nthe cold so intense that I could not so much as look abroad without being\nwrapped in furs, and a kind of mask of fur before my face, with only a\nhole for breath, and two for sight: the little daylight we had was for\nthree months not above five hours a day, and six at most; only that the\nsnow lying on the ground continually, and the weather being clear, it was\nnever quite dark.  Our horses were kept, or rather starved, underground;\nand as for our servants, whom we hired here to look after ourselves and\nhorses, we had, every now and then, their fingers and toes to thaw and\ntake care of, lest they should mortify and fall off.\nIt is true, within doors we were warm, the houses being close, the walls\nthick, the windows small, and the glass all double.  Our food was chiefly\nthe flesh of deer, dried and cured in the season; bread good enough, but\nbaked as biscuits; dried fish of several sorts, and some flesh of mutton,\nand of buffaloes, which is pretty good meat.  All the stores of\nprovisions for the winter are laid up in the summer, and well cured: our\ndrink was water, mixed with aqua vitae instead of brandy; and for a\ntreat, mead instead of wine, which, however, they have very good.  The\nhunters, who venture abroad all weathers, frequently brought us in fine\nvenison, and sometimes bear's flesh, but we did not much care for the\nlast.  We had a good stock of tea, with which we treated our friends, and\nwe lived cheerfully and well, all things considered.\nIt was now March, the days grown considerably longer, and the weather at\nleast tolerable; so the other travellers began to prepare sledges to\ncarry them over the snow, and to get things ready to be going; but my\nmeasures being fixed, as I have said, for Archangel, and not for Muscovy\nor the Baltic, I made no motion; knowing very well that the ships from\nthe south do not set out for that part of the world till May or June, and\nthat if I was there by the beginning of August, it would be as soon as\nany ships would be ready to sail.  Therefore I made no haste to be gone,\nas others did: in a word, I saw a great many people, nay, all the\ntravellers, go away before me.  It seems every year they go from thence\nto Muscovy, for trade, to carry furs, and buy necessaries, which they\nbring back with them to furnish their shops: also others went on the same\nerrand to Archangel.\nIn the month of May I began to make all ready to pack up; and, as I was\ndoing this, it occurred to me that, seeing all these people were banished\nby the Czar to Siberia, and yet, when they came there, were left at\nliberty to go whither they would, why they did not then go away to any\npart of the world, wherever they thought fit: and I began to examine what\nshould hinder them from making such an attempt.  But my wonder was over\nwhen I entered upon that subject with the person I have mentioned, who\nanswered me thus: \"Consider, first, sir,\" said he, \"the place where we\nare; and, secondly, the condition we are in; especially the generality of\nthe people who are banished thither.  We are surrounded with stronger\nthings than bars or bolts; on the north side, an unnavigable ocean, where\nship never sailed, and boat never swam; every other way we have above a\nthousand miles to pass through the Czar's own dominion, and by ways\nutterly impassable, except by the roads made by the government, and\nthrough the towns garrisoned by his troops; in short, we could neither\npass undiscovered by the road, nor subsist any other way, so that it is\nin vain to attempt it.\"\nI was silenced at once, and found that they were in a prison every jot as\nsecure as if they had been locked up in the castle at Moscow: however, it\ncame into my thoughts that I might certainly be made an instrument to\nprocure the escape of this excellent person; and that, whatever hazard I\nran, I would certainly try if I could carry him off.  Upon this, I took\nan occasion one evening to tell him my thoughts.  I represented to him\nthat it was very easy for me to carry him away, there being no guard over\nhim in the country; and as I was not going to Moscow, but to Archangel,\nand that I went in the retinue of a caravan, by which I was not obliged\nto lie in the stationary towns in the desert, but could encamp every\nnight where I would, we might easily pass uninterrupted to Archangel,\nwhere I would immediately secure him on board an English ship, and carry\nhim safe along with me; and as to his subsistence and other particulars,\nit should be my care till he could better supply himself.\nHe heard me very attentively, and looked earnestly on me all the while I\nspoke; nay, I could see in his very face that what I said put his spirits\ninto an exceeding ferment; his colour frequently changed, his eyes looked\nred, and his heart fluttered, till it might be even perceived in his\ncountenance; nor could he immediately answer me when I had done, and, as\nit were, hesitated what he would say to it; but after he had paused a\nlittle, he embraced me, and said, \"How unhappy are we, unguarded\ncreatures as we are, that even our greatest acts of friendship are made\nsnares unto us, and we are made tempters of one another!\"  He then\nheartily thanked me for my offers of service, but withstood resolutely\nthe arguments I used to urge him to set himself free.  He declared, in\nearnest terms, that he was fully bent on remaining where he was rather\nthan seek to return to his former miserable greatness, as he called it:\nwhere the seeds of pride, ambition, avarice, and luxury might revive,\ntake root, and again overwhelm him.  \"Let me remain, dear sir,\" he said,\nin conclusion--\"let me remain in this blessed confinement, banished from\nthe crimes of life, rather than purchase a show of freedom at the expense\nof the liberty of my reason, and at the future happiness which I now have\nin my view, but should then, I fear, quickly lose sight of; for I am but\nflesh; a man, a mere man; and have passions and affections as likely to\npossess and overthrow me as any man: Oh, be not my friend and tempter\nboth together!\"\nIf I was surprised before, I was quite dumb now, and stood silent,\nlooking at him, and, indeed, admiring what I saw.  The struggle in his\nsoul was so great that, though the weather was extremely cold, it put him\ninto a most violent heat; so I said a word or two, that I would leave him\nto consider of it, and wait on him again, and then I withdrew to my own\napartment.\nAbout two hours after I heard somebody at or near the door of my room,\nand I was going to open the door, but he had opened it and come in.  \"My\ndear friend,\" says he, \"you had almost overset me, but I am recovered.  Do\nnot take it ill that I do not close with your offer.  I assure you it is\nnot for want of sense of the kindness of it in you; and I came to make\nthe most sincere acknowledgment of it to you; but I hope I have got the\nvictory over myself.\"--\"My lord,\" said I, \"I hope you are fully satisfied\nthat you do not resist the call of Heaven.\"--\"Sir,\" said he, \"if it had\nbeen from Heaven, the same power would have influenced me to have\naccepted it; but I hope, and am fully satisfied, that it is from Heaven\nthat I decline it, and I have infinite satisfaction in the parting, that\nyou shall leave me an honest man still, though not a free man.\"\nI had nothing to do but to acquiesce, and make professions to him of my\nhaving no end in it but a sincere desire to serve him.  He embraced me\nvery passionately, and assured me he was sensible of that, and should\nalways acknowledge it; and with that he offered me a very fine present of\nsables--too much, indeed, for me to accept from a man in his\ncircumstances, and I would have avoided them, but he would not be\nrefused.  The next morning I sent my servant to his lordship with a small\npresent of tea, and two pieces of China damask, and four little wedges of\nJapan gold, which did not all weigh above six ounces or thereabouts, but\nwere far short of the value of his sables, which, when I came to England,\nI found worth near two hundred pounds.  He accepted the tea, and one\npiece of the damask, and one of the pieces of gold, which had a fine\nstamp upon it, of the Japan coinage, which I found he took for the rarity\nof it, but would not take any more: and he sent word by my servant that\nhe desired to speak with me.\nWhen I came to him he told me I knew what had passed between us, and\nhoped I would not move him any more in that affair; but that, since I had\nmade such a generous offer to him, he asked me if I had kindness enough\nto offer the same to another person that he would name to me, in whom he\nhad a great share of concern.  In a word, he told me it was his only son;\nwho, though I had not seen him, was in the same condition with himself,\nand above two hundred miles from him, on the other side of the Oby; but\nthat, if I consented, he would send for him.\nI made no hesitation, but told him I would do it.  I made some ceremony\nin letting him understand that it was wholly on his account; and that,\nseeing I could not prevail on him, I would show my respect to him by my\nconcern for his son.  He sent the next day for his son; and in about\ntwenty days he came back with the messenger, bringing six or seven\nhorses, loaded with very rich furs, which, in the whole, amounted to a\nvery great value.  His servants brought the horses into the town, but\nleft the young lord at a distance till night, when he came incognito into\nour apartment, and his father presented him to me; and, in short, we\nconcerted the manner of our travelling, and everything proper for the\njourney.\nI had bought a considerable quantity of sables, black fox-skins, fine\nermines, and such other furs as are very rich in that city, in exchange\nfor some of the goods I had brought from China; in particular for the\ncloves and nutmegs, of which I sold the greatest part here, and the rest\nafterwards at Archangel, for a much better price than I could have got at\nLondon; and my partner, who was sensible of the profit, and whose\nbusiness, more particularly than mine, was merchandise, was mightily\npleased with our stay, on account of the traffic we made here.\nIt was the beginning of June when I left this remote place.  We were now\nreduced to a very small caravan, having only thirty-two horses and camels\nin all, which passed for mine, though my new guest was proprietor of\neleven of them.  It was natural also that I should take more servants\nwith me than I had before; and the young lord passed for my steward; what\ngreat man I passed for myself I know not, neither did it concern me to\ninquire.  We had here the worst and the largest desert to pass over that\nwe met with in our whole journey; I call it the worst, because the way\nwas very deep in some places, and very uneven in others; the best we had\nto say for it was, that we thought we had no troops of Tartars or robbers\nto fear, as they never came on this side of the river Oby, or at least\nvery seldom; but we found it otherwise.\nMy young lord had a faithful Siberian servant, who was perfectly\nacquainted with the country, and led us by private roads, so that we\navoided coming into the principal towns and cities upon the great road,\nsuch as Tumen, Soloy Kamaskoy, and several others; because the Muscovite\ngarrisons which are kept there are very curious and strict in their\nobservation upon travellers, and searching lest any of the banished\npersons of note should make their escape that way into Muscovy; but, by\nthis means, as we were kept out of the cities, so our whole journey was a\ndesert, and we were obliged to encamp and lie in our tents, when we might\nhave had very good accommodation in the cities on the way; this the young\nlord was so sensible of, that he would not allow us to lie abroad when we\ncame to several cities on the way, but lay abroad himself, with his\nservant, in the woods, and met us always at the appointed places.\nWe had just entered Europe, having passed the river Kama, which in these\nparts is the boundary between Europe and Asia, and the first city on the\nEuropean side was called Soloy Kamaskoy, that is, the great city on the\nriver Kama.  And here we thought to see some evident alteration in the\npeople; but we were mistaken, for as we had a vast desert to pass, which\nis near seven hundred miles long in some places, but not above two\nhundred miles over where we passed it, so, till we came past that\nhorrible place, we found very little difference between that country and\nMogul Tartary.  The people are mostly pagans; their houses and towns full\nof idols; and their way of living wholly barbarous, except in the cities\nand villages near them, where they are Christians, as they call\nthemselves, of the Greek Church: but have their religion mingled with so\nmany relics of superstition, that it is scarce to be known in some places\nfrom mere sorcery and witchcraft.\nIn passing this forest (after all our dangers were, to our imagination,\nescaped), I thought, indeed, we must have been plundered and robbed, and\nperhaps murdered, by a troop of thieves: of what country they were I am\nyet at a loss to know; but they were all on horseback, carried bows and\narrows, and were at first about forty-five in number.  They came so near\nto us as to be within two musket-shot, and, asking no questions,\nsurrounded us with their horses, and looked very earnestly upon us twice;\nat length, they placed themselves just in our way; upon which we drew up\nin a little line, before our camels, being not above sixteen men in all.\nThus drawn up, we halted, and sent out the Siberian servant, who attended\nhis lord, to see who they were; his master was the more willing to let\nhim go, because he was not a little apprehensive that they were a\nSiberian troop sent out after him.  The man came up near them with a flag\nof truce, and called to them; but though he spoke several of their\nlanguages, or dialects of languages rather, he could not understand a\nword they said; however, after some signs to him not to come near them at\nhis peril, the fellow came back no wiser than he went; only that by their\ndress, he said, he believed them to be some Tartars of Kalmuck, or of the\nCircassian hordes, and that there must be more of them upon the great\ndesert, though he never heard that any of them were seen so far north\nbefore.\nThis was small comfort to us; however, we had no remedy: there was on our\nleft hand, at about a quarter of a mile distance, a little grove, and\nvery near the road.  I immediately resolved we should advance to those\ntrees, and fortify ourselves as well as we could there; for, first, I\nconsidered that the trees would in a great measure cover us from their\narrows; and, in the next place, they could not come to charge us in a\nbody: it was, indeed, my old Portuguese pilot who proposed it, and who\nhad this excellency attending him, that he was always readiest and most\napt to direct and encourage us in cases of the most danger.  We advanced\nimmediately, with what speed we could, and gained that little wood; the\nTartars, or thieves, for we knew not what to call them, keeping their\nstand, and not attempting to hinder us.  When we came thither, we found,\nto our great satisfaction, that it was a swampy piece of ground, and on\nthe one side a very great spring of water, which, running out in a little\nbrook, was a little farther joined by another of the like size; and was,\nin short, the source of a considerable river, called afterwards the\nWirtska; the trees which grew about this spring were not above two\nhundred, but very large, and stood pretty thick, so that as soon as we\ngot in, we saw ourselves perfectly safe from the enemy unless they\nattacked us on foot.\nWhile we stayed here waiting the motion of the enemy some hours, without\nperceiving that they made any movement, our Portuguese, with some help,\ncut several arms of trees half off, and laid them hanging across from one\ntree to another, and in a manner fenced us in.  About two hours before\nnight they came down directly upon us; and though we had not perceived\nit, we found they had been joined by some more, so that they were near\nfourscore horse; whereof, however, we fancied some were women.  They came\non till they were within half-shot of our little wood, when we fired one\nmusket without ball, and called to them in the Russian tongue to know\nwhat they wanted, and bade them keep off; but they came on with a double\nfury up to the wood-side, not imagining we were so barricaded that they\ncould not easily break in.  Our old pilot was our captain as well as our\nengineer, and desired us not to fire upon them till they came within\npistol-shot, that we might be sure to kill, and that when we did fire we\nshould be sure to take good aim; we bade him give the word of command,\nwhich he delayed so long that they were some of them within two pikes'\nlength of us when we let fly.  We aimed so true that we killed fourteen\nof them, and wounded several others, as also several of their horses; for\nwe had all of us loaded our pieces with two or three bullets apiece at\nleast.\nThey were terribly surprised with our fire, and retreated immediately\nabout one hundred rods from us; in which time we loaded our pieces again,\nand seeing them keep that distance, we sallied out, and caught four or\nfive of their horses, whose riders we supposed were killed; and coming up\nto the dead, we judged they were Tartars, but knew not how they came to\nmake an excursion such an unusual length.\nAbout an hour after they again made a motion to attack us, and rode round\nour little wood to see where they might break in; but finding us always\nready to face them, they went off again; and we resolved not to stir for\nthat night.\nWe slept little, but spent the most part of the night in strengthening\nour situation, and barricading the entrances into the wood, and keeping a\nstrict watch.  We waited for daylight, and when it came, it gave us a\nvery unwelcome discovery indeed; for the enemy, who we thought were\ndiscouraged with the reception they met with, were now greatly increased,\nand had set up eleven or twelve huts or tents, as if they were resolved\nto besiege us; and this little camp they had pitched upon the open plain,\nabout three-quarters of a mile from us.  I confess I now gave myself over\nfor lost, and all that I had; the loss of my effects did not lie so near\nme, though very considerable, as the thoughts of falling into the hands\nof such barbarians at the latter end of my journey, after so many\ndifficulties and hazards as I had gone through, and even in sight of our\nport, where we expected safety and deliverance.  As to my partner, he was\nraging, and declared that to lose his goods would be his ruin, and that\nhe would rather die than be starved, and he was for fighting to the last\ndrop.\nThe young lord, a most gallant youth, was for fighting to the last also;\nand my old pilot was of opinion that we were able to resist them all in\nthe situation we were then in.  Thus we spent the day in debates of what\nwe should do; but towards evening we found that the number of our enemies\nstill increased, and we did not know but by the morning they might still\nbe a greater number: so I began to inquire of those people we had brought\nfrom Tobolski if there were no private ways by which we might avoid them\nin the night, and perhaps retreat to some town, or get help to guard us\nover the desert.  The young lord's Siberian servant told us, if we\ndesigned to avoid them, and not fight, he would engage to carry us off in\nthe night, to a way that went north, towards the river Petruz, by which\nhe made no question but we might get away, and the Tartars never discover\nit; but, he said, his lord had told him he would not retreat, but would\nrather choose to fight.  I told him he mistook his lord: for that he was\ntoo wise a man to love fighting for the sake of it; that I knew he was\nbrave enough by what he had showed already; but that he knew better than\nto desire seventeen or eighteen men to fight five hundred, unless an\nunavoidable necessity forced them to it; and that if he thought it\npossible for us to escape in the night, we had nothing else to do but to\nattempt it.  He answered, if his lordship gave him such orders, he would\nlose his life if he did not perform it; we soon brought his lord to give\nthat order, though privately, and we immediately prepared for putting it\nin practice.\nAnd first, as soon as it began to be dark, we kindled a fire in our\nlittle camp, which we kept burning, and prepared so as to make it burn\nall night, that the Tartars might conclude we were still there; but as\nsoon as it was dark, and we could see the stars (for our guide would not\nstir before), having all our horses and camels ready loaded, we followed\nour new guide, who I soon found steered himself by the north star, the\ncountry being level for a long way.\nAfter we had travelled two hours very hard, it began to be lighter still;\nnot that it was dark all night, but the moon began to rise, so that, in\nshort, it was rather lighter than we wished it to be; but by six o'clock\nthe next morning we had got above thirty miles, having almost spoiled our\nhorses.  Here we found a Russian village, named Kermazinskoy, where we\nrested, and heard nothing of the Kalmuck Tartars that day.  About two\nhours before night we set out again, and travelled till eight the next\nmorning, though not quite so hard as before; and about seven o'clock we\npassed a little river, called Kirtza, and came to a good large town\ninhabited by Russians, called Ozomys; there we heard that several troops\nof Kalmucks had been abroad upon the desert, but that we were now\ncompletely out of danger of them, which was to our great satisfaction.\nHere we were obliged to get some fresh horses, and having need enough of\nrest, we stayed five days; and my partner and I agreed to give the honest\nSiberian who conducted us thither the value of ten pistoles.\nIn five days more we came to Veussima, upon the river Witzogda, and\nrunning into the Dwina: we were there, very happily, near the end of our\ntravels by land, that river being navigable, in seven days' passage, to\nArchangel.  From hence we came to Lawremskoy, the 3rd of July; and\nproviding ourselves with two luggage boats, and a barge for our own\nconvenience, we embarked the 7th, and arrived all safe at Archangel the\n18th; having been a year, five months, and three days on the journey,\nincluding our stay of about eight months at Tobolski.\nWe were obliged to stay at this place six weeks for the arrival of the\nships, and must have tarried longer, had not a Hamburgher come in above a\nmonth sooner than any of the English ships; when, after some\nconsideration that the city of Hamburgh might happen to be as good a\nmarket for our goods as London, we all took freight with him; and, having\nput our goods on board, it was most natural for me to put my steward on\nboard to take care of them; by which means my young lord had a sufficient\nopportunity to conceal himself, never coming on shore again all the time\nwe stayed there; and this he did that he might not be seen in the city,\nwhere some of the Moscow merchants would certainly have seen and\ndiscovered him.\nWe then set sail from Archangel the 20th of August, the same year; and,\nafter no extraordinary bad voyage, arrived safe in the Elbe the 18th of\nSeptember.  Here my partner and I found a very good sale for our goods,\nas well those of China as the sables, &c., of Siberia: and, dividing the\nproduce, my share amounted to 3475 pounds, 17s 3d., including about six\nhundred pounds' worth of diamonds, which I purchased at Bengal.\nHere the young lord took his leave of us, and went up the Elbe, in order\nto go to the court of Vienna, where he resolved to seek protection and\ncould correspond with those of his father's friends who were left alive.\nHe did not part without testimonials of gratitude for the service I had\ndone him, and for my kindness to the prince, his father.\nTo conclude: having stayed near four months in Hamburgh, I came from\nthence by land to the Hague, where I embarked in the packet, and arrived\nin London the 10th of January 1705, having been absent from England ten\nyears and nine months.  And here, resolving to harass myself no more, I\nam preparing for a longer journey than all these, having lived seventy-\ntwo years a life of infinite variety, and learned sufficiently to know\nthe value of retirement, and the blessing of ending our days in peace.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Linda Cantoni, and the Online\nmemory of Steven Gibbs (1938-2009).\n[Transcriber's Note: This e-book, a pamphlet by Daniel Defoe, was\noriginally published in 1713, and was prepared from _The Novels and\nMiscellaneous Works of Daniel De Foe_, vol. 6 (London: Henry G. Bohn,\n1855). Archaic spellings have been retained as they appear in the\noriginal, and obvious printer errors have been corrected without\nnote.]\nAN ANSWER\nTO A\nQUESTION\nThat Nobody thinks of,\nVIZ.\n_But what if the QUEEN should die?_\n_LONDON:_\nPrinted for _J. Baker_, at the _Black-Boy_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_.\n1713. Price Six Pence.\nAN ANSWER\nTO A QUESTION, &c.\nThat we are to have a peace, or that the peace is made, what sort of\npeace, or how it has been brought about; these are questions the world\nbegins to have done with, they have been so much, so often, and to so\nlittle purpose banded about, and tossed like a shuttlecock, from one\nparty to another; the parties themselves begin to want breath to rail\nand throw scandal. Roper and Ridpath, like two Tom T--men, have thrown\nnight-dirt at one another so long, and groped into so many Jakes's up\nto their elbows to find it, that they stink now in the nostrils of\ntheir own party. They are become perfectly nauseous to read; the\nnation is surfeited of them, and the people begin to be tired with\nill-using one another. Would any tolerable face appear upon things, we\nmight expect the people would be inclined to be easy; and were the\neyes of some great men open, they may see this was the opportunity\nthey never had before, to make the nation easy, and themselves safe.\nThe main thing which agitates the minds of men now, is the protestant\nsuccession and the pretender. Much pains have been taken on both sides\nto amuse the world about this remaining dispute; one side to make us\nbelieve it is safe, and the other to convince us it is in danger.\nNeither side hath been able to expatiate upon the part they affirm.\nThose who say the protestant succession is secure, have not yet shown\nus any step taken, since these new transactions, for its particular\nsecurity. Those who say it is in danger, have not so clearly\ndetermined, even among themselves, from what particular head of public\nmanagement that danger chiefly proceeds. Both these uncertainties\nserve to perplex us, and to leave the thing more undetermined than\nconsists with the public ease of the people's minds. To contribute\nsomething to that ease, and bring those whose place it is to consider\nof ways to make the people easy in this case, this work is made\npublic. Possibly, the question propounded may not meet with a\ncategorical answer. But this is certain, it shall show you more\ndirectly what is the chief question which the substance of things\nbefore us is like to turn upon; and to which all our questions seem to\ntend. Were the great difficulty of the succession brought to a narrow\ncompass, though we might spend fewer words about it, we should sooner\ncome to a direct answer. Before I come to the great and chief question\nupon which this affair so much seems to turn, it seems needful to put\nthe previous question upon which so much debate has been among us, and\nlet that be examined. This previous question is this: Is there any\nreal danger of the protestant succession? Is there any danger that the\npretender shall be brought in upon us? Is there any danger of popery\nand tyranny, by restoring the son, as they call him, of abdicated King\nJames? This is the previous question, as we may now call it. It is\nwell known that there are some people among us, who are so far from\nallowing that there is any such danger as the said question mentions,\nthat they will have it to be a token of disaffection to the government\nto put the question, and are for loading whoever shall offer to start\nsuch a question, with characters and party-marks odious to good men,\nsuch as incendiary, promoter of discontents, raiser of faction,\ndivider of the people, and the like: names which the writer of these\nsheets, at the same time, both contemns and abhors. He cannot see that\nhe is any enemy to the queen, in inquiring as diligently as possible,\nwhether there are any attempts to depose her, or dangerous prospects\nof bringing in the hated rival of her glory and dominion. It is so far\nfrom that, that it is apparently the duty of every true subject of her\nmajesty, to inquire seriously, whether the public peace, the queen's\nsafety, her throne, or her person, is in any danger from the wicked\ndesign of her, and her people's enemies. Wherefore, and for the joint\nconcern every protestant Briton has in this thing, I shall make no\ndifficulty, plainly and seriously to state, and to answer this\nprevious question, viz., Whether there is any danger of the protestant\nsuccession from the present measures, and from the present people\nconcerned? I am not ignorant of what has been said by some, to prove\nthat the present ministry cannot be suspected of having any view to\nthe pretender in any of their measures. The best reason which I have\nseen given upon that subject, is, that it is not their interest; and\nthat as we have not found them fools that are blind to their own\ninterest; that either do not understand, or pursue it. This we find\nhandled sundry ways, by sundry authors, and very much insisted upon as\na foundation for us to build upon. We shall give our thoughts upon it\nwith plainness, and without fear or favour. Good manners require we\nshould speak of the ministry with all due regard to their character\nand persons. This, a tract designed to inquire seriously of a weighty\nand essential, not a trifling thing, which requires but a trifling\nexamination; nor shall it be handled here with satire and scurrility.\nWe approve neither of the flatteries of one side, nor the insultings\nof the other. We shall readily and most willingly join with those who\nare of opinion that it is not the interest of the ministry to be for\nthe pretender, and that the ministry are not blind to, or careless of,\ntheir own interest; and consequently, that the ministry cannot be for\nthe pretender. This I hope may be called a direct answer. When I say\n\"cannot,\" I must not be understood potentially, that they have no\nmoral capacity; but they cannot without such inconsistencies,\ncontradictions, and improbable things happening in, which render it\nhighly irrational so much as to suppose it of them. To shut the door\nagainst any possibility of cavil, it may be needful also to take it\nwith us as we go, what we mean by the words \"be for\" the pretender;\nand this can be no otherwise understood, than to have a design,\nhowever remote, and upon whatever views, to bring him in to possess\nthe throne of these kingdoms. The matter then being laid down thus, as\nsincerely and plainly as possible, we come to the question\npoint-blank, and think it our duty to say with the greatest sincerity,\nthat we do not believe the ministry are in any kind, or with any\nprospect, near or remote, acting for or with a design or view to bring\nin the pretender. Having granted this, we must, however, to prevent\nany breaking in, by way of cavil on one hand, or triumph on the other,\nsubjoin immediately, that we do not in the least grant by this that\nthe protestant succession is in no danger, even from several of the\nmeasures now taken in the world. It is far from any reflection upon\nthe ministry to say that, however they may act upon a right sincere\nprinciple for the protestant succession in all they do, which, as\nabove, we profess to believe, yet that many of the tools they make use\nof are of another make, and have no edge to cut any other way; no\nthoughts to move them towards any other end; no other centre, which\nthey can have any tendency to; that the pretender's interest is the\nmagnet which draws them by its secret influence to point to him as\ntheir pole; that they have their aim at his establishment here, and\nown it to be their aim; and as they are not shy to profess it among\nthemselves, so their conduct in many things makes it sufficiently\npublic. This is not meant as any reflection upon the ministry for\nmaking use of such men: the late ministry did the same, and every\nministry will, and must employ men sometimes, not as they always join\nwith them in their politic principles, but as either the men are found\nuseful in their several employments, or as the ministry may be under\nother circumstances, which makes it necessary to them to employ them.\nNor, as the Review well enough observed, does it follow that because\nthe ministry have employed or joined with jacobites in the public\naffairs, that therefore they must have done it with a jacobite\nprinciple. But let the ministry employ these men by what necessity, or\nupon what occasion they will, though it may not follow that the\nministry are therefore for the pretender, yet it does not also follow\nthat there is no danger of the protestant succession from the\nemploying those sort of people: For, what if the queen should die?\nThe ministry, it is hoped, are established in the interest of their\nqueen and country; and therefore it has been argued, that supposing\nthe ministry had the pretender in their eye, yet that it is irrational\nto suggest that they can have any such view during the life of her\npresent majesty. Nay, even those professed jacobites, who we spoke of\njust now, cannot be so ungrateful to think of deposing the queen, who\nhas been so bountiful, so kind, so exceeding good to them, as in\nseveral cases to suffer them to be brought into the management of her\nown affairs, when by their character they might have been thought\ndangerous, even to her person; thus winning and engaging them by her\nbounty, and the confidence that has been placed in them, not to\nattempt anything to her prejudice, without the most monstrous\ningratitude, without flying in the face of all that sense of honour\nand obligation, which it is possible for men of common sense to\nentertain. And it can hardly be thought that even papists themselves,\nunder the highest possessions of their religious zeal, can conquer the\nnative aversions they must have to such abominable ingratitude, or to\nthink of bringing in the pretender upon this protestant nation, even\nwhile the queen shall be on the throne. But though this may, and some\ndoubt that also, tie up their hands during the queen's life, yet they\nthemselves give us but small reason to expect anything from them\nafterward, and it will be hard to find anybody to vouch for them then.\nThese very jacobites, papists, and professed enemies to the\nrevolution, may be supposed upon these pretensions to be quiet, and\noffer no violence to the present establishment while her majesty has\nthe possession, and while that life lasts, to which they are so much\nindebted for her royal goodness and clemency. But what would they do\nif the queen should die?\nCome we next to the French king. We are told, that not the French king\nonly, but even the whole French nation, are wonderfully forward to\nacknowledge the obligation they are under to the justice and favour\nwhich they have received from her majesty, in the putting an end to\nthe war; a war which lay heavy upon them, and threatened the very name\nof the French nation with ruin, and much more threatened the glory of\nthe French court, and of their great monarch, with an entire\noverthrow, a total eclipse. A war which, by their own confession, it\nwas impossible for them long to have supported the expenses of, and\nwhich, by the great superiority of the allies, became dreadful to\nthem, and that every campaign more than the other; a war which they\nwere in such pain to see the end of, that they tried all the powers\nand courts in Christendom, who were the least neutral, to engage a\nmediation in order to a treaty, and all in vain; and a war which, if\nher majesty had not inclined to put an end to, must have ended perhaps\nto the disadvantage and confusion of both France and Spain, if not of\nall Christendom. The obligations the French are under for the bringing\nthis war to so just and honourable a conclusion are not at all\nconcealed. Nay, the French themselves have not been backward to make\nthem public. The declarations made by the French king of his sincerity\nin the overtures made for a general peace, the protestations of his\nbeing resolved to enter into an entire confidence, and a league\noffensive and defensive with the queen's majesty for the preservation\nof the peace of Christendom, his recognition of her majesty's just\nright to the crown, his entering into articles to preserve the union,\nacknowledging the ninth electorate in favour of the house of Hanover,\nand joining in the great affair of the protestant succession. As these\nall convince the world of the necessity his affairs were reduced to,\nand the great advantages accruing to him by a peace, so they seem to\nbe so many arguments against our fears of the French entering into any\nengagements against the crown of Britain, much less any against the\npossession of the queen during her life. Not that the honour and\nsincerity of the king of France is a foundation fit for her majesty or\nher people to have any dependence upon; and the fraction of former\ntreaties by that court, when the glory of that monarch, or his\nparticular views of things has dictated such opportunity to him as he\nthought fit to close with, are due cautions to us all not to have any\ndependence of that kind. But the state of his affairs, and the\ncondition the war has reduced him to, may give us some ground to think\nourselves safe on that side. He knows what power he has taken off from\nhis enemies in making peace with her majesty; he knows very well with\nwhat loss he sits down, how his affairs are weakened, and what need he\nhas to take breath after so terrible a war; besides the flame such an\naction would kindle again in Europe; how it would animate this whole\nBritish nation against him, in such a manner, and endanger bringing in\na new war, and perhaps a new confederacy upon him so violently, and\nthat before he would be in a condition to match them, that no one can\nreasonably suppose the French king will run the hazard of it. And\nthese things may tend to make some people easier than ordinary in the\naffair of the succession, believing that the French king stands in too\nmuch need of the favour of the queen of Great Britain, whose power it\nwell behoves him to keep in friendship with him, and whose nation he\nwill be very cautious of provoking a third time, as he has already\ndone twice, to his fatal experience. All these things, we say, may\nseem pretty well to assure us that nothing is to be feared on that\nside so long as her majesty lives to sit upon the British throne. But\nall leaves our grand question unanswered; and though we may argue\nstrongly for the French king's conduct while the present reign\ncontinues, yet few will say, What he will do if the queen should die?\nNay, we may even mention the pretender himself, if he has any about\nhim whose councils are fit to be depended upon, and can direct him to\nmake a wise and prudent judgment of his own affairs; if he acts by any\nscope of policy, and can take his measures with any foresight; most\neasy is it for them to see that it must be in vain for him to think of\nmaking any attempt in Britain during the life of the queen, or to\nexpect to depose her majesty, and set himself up. The French power,\nupon which he has already in vain depended, as it has not hitherto\nbeen able to serve him, or his father, but that their exile has\ncontinued now above twenty-four years, so much less can he be able to\nassist him now, while he has been brought as it were to kneel to the\nBritish court to put an end for him to this cruel destructive war; the\nreason is just spoken to, viz., that this would be to rekindle that\nflame which he has gotten so lately quenched, and which cost him so\nmuch art, so much management, so much submission to the allies, to\nendeavour the quenching of before. To attack the queen of Great\nBritain now in behalf of the pretender, would not only be in the\nhighest degree ungrateful, perfidious, and dishonourable, but would\nfor ever make the British court, as well as the whole nation, his\nviolent and implacable enemies; but would also involve him again in a\nnew war with all Europe, who would very gladly fall in again with\nBritain to pull down more effectually the French power, which has so\nlong been a terror to its neighbours; so that the pretender can expect\nno help from the king of France. As to what the pope, the Spaniard,\nand a few petty popish powers, who might pretend upon a religious\nprospect to assist him, and with whose aid, and the assistance of his\nparty here, he may think fit to hazard an attempt here for the crown,\nit is evident, and his own friends will agree in it, that while the\nqueen lives, it is nonsense, and ridiculous for them to attempt it;\nthat it would immediately arm the whole nation against them, as one\nman; and in human probability it would, like as his supposed father\nwas served at the revolution, be the ruin of his whole interest, and\nblow him at once quite out of the nation. I believe that there are\nvery few who alarm themselves much with the fears of the pretender,\nfrom the apprehension of his own strength from abroad, or from his\nown party and friends at home here, were they once sure that he should\nreceive no assistance from the king of France. If then the king of\nFrance cannot be reasonably supposed either to be inclined, or be in a\ncondition to appear for him, or act in his behalf, during the life of\nthe queen, neither can the pretender, say some, unless he is resolved\nto ruin all his friends, and at last to ruin himself, make any attempt\nof that kind during her majesty's life. But what if the queen should\ndie?\nHaving then viewed the several points of the nation's compass whence\nour danger of jacobite plots and projects against the protestant\nsuccession may be expected to come, let us now inquire a little of the\nstate of the nation, that we make a right estimate of our condition,\nand may know what to trust to in cases of difficulty, as they lie\nbefore us. In doing this, as well to avoid giving offence to the\npeople now in power, as to the entering into the quarrels which engage\nthe present contending parties in this divided nation, we shall allow,\nhowever some may think fit to question it, the main debate; and grant\nthis for the present as a fundamental, viz., That we are in no danger\nof the pretender during this queen's reign, or during this ministry's\nadministration under her majesty; and avoiding all contention of that\nkind, shall allow our condition to be safe in every article as we go\nalong, for so long as the queen lives, referring the observation of\nthings in every head to those who can answer the main question in our\ntitle, viz., But what if the queen should die?\nFirst of all, it may be noticed, that the present safety of this\nnation, whether we respect liberty, religion, property, or public\nsafety and prosperity, depends upon this one fundamental, viz., that\nalluding reverently to that text of Scripture, we are all built upon\nthe foundation of the late revolution, established law and right being\nthe chief corner-stone. By this it is that her majesty is made our\nqueen, the entail of the crown being reserved in the remainder to her\nmajesty in the act of settlement made at the filling up the vacant\nthrone, and by all those subsequent acts which her majesty's title was\nconfirmed by, during the life of the late king. This revolution is\nthat upon which the liberties and religion of this nation were rebuilt\nafter the conflagration that was made of them in the calamitous times\nof King Charles II., and King James II., and from hence to the love\nof liberty which is found almost to be naturally placed in the hearts\nof true Britons; and upon the view whereof they have acted all along\nin the late war, and in all their transactions at home has obtained\nthe title of a \"revolution principle.\" Noting this then, as above,\nthat her majesty is our queen by virtue of the revolution, and that\nduring her reign that establishment alone must be the foundation of\nall her administration, this must effectually secure us against any\napprehension that the persons acting under her majesty can act in\nbehalf of the pretender during her majesty's life; for that they must\nimmediately overthrow the throne, turn the queen out of it, and\nrenounce the revolution, upon which her majesty's possession is\nestablished: as the revolution, therefore, is the base upon which the\nthrone of her majesty is established, so her majesty, and all that act\nunder her, are obliged to act upon the foot of the said revolution,\neven _will_ they, _nil_ they, or else they sink immediately out of\nrightful power to act at all; her majesty's title would fall to the\nground, their own commissions would from that hour be void; they must\ndeclare their royal mistress and benefactress a subject to the\npretender, and all her pretences of rightful possession injurious, and\nan usurpation. These things being so plain, that he that runs may read\nthem, seem to stop all our mouths from so much as any suggestion that\nanybody can attempt to bring in the pretender upon us during the life\nof her present majesty. But what if the queen should die?\nSubsequent to the revolution, many essential things are formed by our\nparliaments and government for the public good, on the foundation of\nwhich much of the present peace of the nation is founded; and while\nthe said revolution-foundation stands fast, there is good ground to\nbelieve those essential points shall be preserved. If then we are\nsatisfied that the revolution principle shall subsist as long as the\nqueen lives, then for so long we may have good ground to believe we\nshall enjoy all those advantages and benefits which we received from\nthe said revolution. But still, when we look back upon those dear\nprivileges, the obtaining of which has cost so much money, and the\nmaintaining of which has cost so much blood, we must with a deep sigh\nreflect upon the precarious circumstances of the nation, whose best\nprivileges hang uncertain upon the nice and tender thread of royal\nmortality, and say we are happy while these last, and these may last\nwhile her majesty shall live. But what if the queen should die?\nLet us descend to some other particulars of those blessings which we\ndo enjoy purely as the effect of the revolution, and examine in what\nposture we stand with respect to them, and what assurance we have of\ntheir continuance: and first, as to TOLERATION. This was the greatest\nand first blessing the nation felt after the immediate settlement of\nthe crown, which was established by virtue of the revolution\nengagement, mentioned in the Prince of Orange's declaration. The\ndesign of this law, as it was to give liberty for the worship of God\nto such dissenters as could not conform to the Church of England, and\nto give ease to tender consciences, so as by the law itself is\nexpressed; it was to ease the minds of their majesties' subjects, and\nto give general quiet to the nation, whose peace had been frequently\ndisturbed by the violence of persecution. We have seen frequent\nassurances given of the inviolable preservation of this toleration by\nher majesty from the throne in her speeches to the parliament; and\nduring her majesty's reign, we have great reason to hope the quiet of\nthe poor people shall not be broken by either repealing that law, or\ninvading the intent and meaning of it while in force; and there are a\ngreat many reasons to hope that the present ministry are so far\nconvinced of the necessity of the said toleration, in order to\npreserve the peace, and the common neighbourhood of people, that they\ncan have no thought of breaking in upon it, or any way making the\npeople who enjoy it, uneasy. Nay, the rather we believe this, because\nthe ferment such a breach would put the whole nation into is not the\nsafest condition the government can be in upon any account; and as the\nministry cannot be supposed to desire to give uneasiness and\nprovocation to the commons, but rather to keep them easy and quiet,\nand prevent the enemies of the present management from having any\nhandle to take hold of to foment distractions and disturbances among\nthe people, it cannot be thought that they will push at the\ntoleration, so as to deprive the people of so considerable a thing.\nBut after the present happy establishment shall have received such a\nfatal blow as that will be of the queen's death, and when popish\npretenders, and French influences, shall prevail, it may well be\nexpected then, that not toleration of dissenters only, but even of\nthe whole protestant religion, may be in danger to be lost; so that,\nhowever secure we are of the free enjoyment of liberty of religion\nduring the queen's life, we may be very well allowed to ask this\nquestion with respect to, not toleration only, but the Church of\nEngland also, viz., what will become of them, If the queen should die?\nFrom toleration in England, come we to the constitution of religious\naffairs in Scotland; and here we have different views from what the\ncase in England affords us; the powerful interest of jacobitism, if it\nmay be said to be formidable anywhere, is so there. The enemies of the\nrevolution are all the implacable enemies of the church establishment\nthere: nay, many thousands are the declared enemies of the revolution,\nand of the queen's being upon the throne, from a mere implacable\naversion to the presbyterian kirk, which is erected and established by\nthat very revolution which has set the queen upon the throne. The\nunion, which has yet farther established that presbyterian kirk, is\nfor that reason the aversion of the same people, as it is the aversion\nof the jacobites, by being a farther confirmation of the Hanover\nsuccession, and a farther fixing the queen upon the throne. Now, as it\nis sure, that as before, while the queen lives, and the revolution\ninfluence carries its usual force in the kingdoms now united, the\npresbyterian kirk must and will remain, and all the little\nencroachments which have been made upon the kirk, as it may be\nobserved, though they have created uneasiness enough, yet they still\nseem to suppose that the establishment itself cannot be overthrown.\nThe union and the revolution settlement remain in Scotland, and must\nremain, as is said; while the queen lives we can have no apprehensions\nof them; the reasons are given above; and as we said before, we are to\ntake them for granted in this discourse, to avoid other cavils. While\nthen the revolution and the union are to be the foundation of the\nadministration in Scotland, the presbyterian established church\ngovernment there must also remain as the only legal kirk constitution,\nand so long we can entertain no fears of anything on that account. But\nwhat if the queen should die?\nFrom such religious concerns as effect presbyterians, and other\nsectaries, or dissenters, as we call them, let us take a look at the\nremote danger of the Church of England. We have had a great deal of\ndistraction in the time of the late ministry about the danger of the\nchurch; and as it appears by the memorial of the church of England,\npublished in those times, and reprinted since; by the sermons of Dr.\nSacheverell, and the eminent speeches at his trial, that danger was\nmore especially suggested to come from the increase of dissenters\nhere, the ministry of the whigs, and the establishing presbyterianism\nin the north of Britain. These things being in a great measure now\noverthrown by the late change of the ministry, and the new methods\ntaken in the management of the public affairs, the people, who were\nthen supposed to aim at overthrowing the ministry of those whigs, are\npleased to assure us of the safety and flourishing condition of the\nchurch now more than ever; while the other party, taking up the like\ncry of the danger of the church, tells us, that now a real visible\nappearance of danger to the church is before us; and that not only to\nthe church of England as such, but even to the whole interest and\nsafety of the protestant religion in Britain; that this danger is\nimminent and unavoidable, from the great growth and increase of\npopery, and professed jacobitism in the nation. This indeed they give\nbut too great demonstrations of from the spreading of popish agents\namong us, whose professed employment it is to amuse and impose upon\nthe poor country people, as well in matters of jacobitism as of\nreligion, and the great successes these emissaries of Satan have\nobtained in several parts of Britain, but especially in the north.\nNow, though we cannot but acknowledge but that much of this alarm is\njustly grounded, and that the endeavours of popish and jacobite agents\nand emissaries in divers parts of Britain are too apparently\nsuccessful, yet as wise men could never see into the reality of such\ndanger, as was by some people pretended to be impending over the\nchurch in the time of the late ministry, so neither can we allow that\npopery is so evidently at the door at this time, as that we should be\napprehensive of having the church of England immediately transversed,\nand the protestant religion in Britain: and one great reason for this\nopinion is, that her majesty, who is a zealous professor of the\nprotestant religion, and has been bred up in the bosom of the church\nof England, is so rooted in principle, and has declared from her very\ninfancy such horror and aversion to popery, that it cannot enter into\nany true protestant thoughts to apprehend anything of that kind,\nwhile her majesty lives. But, Lord have mercy upon us! What if the\nqueen should die?\nFrom religious matters, come we next to consider civil interest,\nliberties, privileges, properties; the great article that in the late\nrevolution went always coupled in the nation's negative with that of\nreligion, as if they were woven together, and was always cried upon by\nthe mob in one breath, viz., No popery, no slavery. The first of these\nconcerns our civil interest; such as the public credit, by the\noccasions of a long and expensive war, and to prevent levying severe\ntaxes for the carrying on the war, such as would be grievous to trade,\noppressive to the poor, and difficult to be paid. The parliament, for\nthe ease of the subjects, thought fit, rather to lay funds of interest\nto raise money upon, by way of loan, establishing those interests,\npayable as annuities and annual payments, for the benefit of those who\nadvanced their money for the public service. And to make these things\ncurrent, that the public credit might be sacred, and the people be\nmade free to advance their money, all possible assurances of\nparliament have been given, that the payments of interests and\nannuities shall be kept punctually, and exactly according to the acts\nof parliament, that no misapplications of the money shall be made, or\nconverting the money received upon one to make good the deficiency of\nthe other; and hitherto the injunctions of that kind have been exactly\nobserved, and the payments punctually made, which we call the credit\nof the nation. At the first of the late change, when the new ministry\nbegan to act, the fright the people were put in upon the suggestion of\nsome, that all the parliamentary funds should be wiped off with a\nsponge, was very considerable; and the credit of those funds sunk\nexceedingly with but the bare apprehension of such a blow, the sums\nbeing infinitely great, and the number of indigent families being\nincredibly many, whose whole substance lay in those securities, and\nwhose bread depended upon those interests being punctually paid; but\nwiser men saw quickly there was no ground for those fears; that the\nnew ministry stood upon a foot that could no more be supported without\nthe public credit than those that went before them; that especially\nwhile they were under a necessity of borrowing farther sums, they\nbehoved to secure the punctual paying of the old; and by making the\npeople entirely easy, not only take from them the apprehensions they\nwere under of losing what they lent already, but make them forward and\nwilling to advance more to this purpose, they not only endeavoured to\ngive the people all satisfaction that their money was safe, and that\nthe funds laid by the parliament in the former ministry should be kept\nsacred, and the payments punctually made, but took care to obtain\nparliamentary securities, by real funds to be settled for the payment\nof those debts contracted by the former ministry, and for which no\nprovision was made before. This was the establishment of a fund for\npayment of the interests of the navy debt, ordnance, victualling,\ntransport, &c., to the value of seven or eight millions, which is the\nsubstance of what we new call the South-sea stock. By this means the\npublic credit, which it was suggested would receive such a blow at the\nChange as that it should never recover again, and that it would be\nimpossible for the new ministry to raise any needful sums of money for\nthe carrying on the war, or for the public occasions, recovered itself\nso as that the government hath ever since found it easy to borrow\nwhatever sums they thought fit to demand, in the same manner as\nbefore. Now that these loans are safe, no man that weighs the\ncircumstances of the ministry and government, and the circumstances of\nthe people, can doubt; the first being in a constant necessity of\nsupporting the public credit for the carrying on the public affairs,\non any sudden emergency that may happen, and being liable to the\nresentment of parliament, if any open infraction should be made upon\nthe funds, which touches so nearly the honour of the parliaments, and\nthe interest of most of the best families in the nation. While this is\nthe case, we think it is not rational to believe that any ministry\nwill venture to attack parliamentary credit, in such a manner; and\nthis will eminently be the case as long as her majesty sits on the\nthrone. Nor can a thing so barefacedly tyrannical and arbitrary, and,\nabove all, dishonourable and unjust, be suggested as possible to be\nattempted in the reign of so just and conscientious a prince; so that\nwe may be very willing to allow that there is not the least danger of\nthe public faith being broken, the public credit lost, the public\nfunds stopped, or the money being misapplied. No cheat, no sponge,\nwhile her majesty lives. But, alas for us! What if the queen should\ndie?\nFrom this piece of civil right, come we to those things we call\nliberties and privileges. These may indeed be joined in some respects;\nbut as we are engaged in speaking particularly to such points, wherein\nour present dangers do or do not appear, it is proper to mention them\napart. Privileges may be distinguished here from liberties, as they\nrespect affairs of trade, corporations, parliaments, and legislature,\n&c. Liberty, as they respect laws, establishments, declared right, and\nsuch like. As to the first, from the revolution to this time, they\nhave not only been confirmed, which we had before, but many privileges\nadded to the people, some of which are essential to the well-being of\nthe kingdom. All the _quo warrantos_ against corporation privileges,\nthe high commission court against the church's privileges extending\nprerogative in detriment of the subject's natural right, and many such\nthings, which were fatal to the privileges of this protestant nation,\nwere laid aside, and received their just condemnation in the\nrevolution; and not so only, but the privileges obtained since the\nrevolution by consent of parliament, are very considerable; such as\nthe toleration to this part of Britain, and the establishment of the\nchurch of Scotland; for the north part; in matters of religion; such\nas the triennial election of parliaments; in civil affairs, such as\nthe several corporations granted upon really useful foundations in\ntrade; as the bank company, &c., and such like. These and many more,\nwhich may be named, and which these are named only as heads of, are\nsecured to us by law; and those laws yet again made sure to us by the\nhonour and veracity of her majesty, and as long as her majesty's life\nis spared to these nations, we have great reason to believe we shall\nrather increase than lose our privileges. But what if the queen should\ndie?\nOur LIBERTIES, which come next in order, may be summed up in what we\ncall legal, and native right; or such as by the natural consequence of\na free nation, and a just government; or such as by mutual assent and\nconsent of sovereign and subject, are become the legal right of the\nlatter. These, needless to be enumerated here, are summed up into one;\nor are expressly enacted by statute law, and thereby become\nfundamental to the constitution. These receive no wound, but one of\nthese two ways, either by open infraction and contempt of right, or by\ndispensing arbitrary power; both of which, by the many assurances from\nthe throne, by the constant jealousies of parliaments, and the full\nliberty they have more of late than ever taken to examine into, and\ncensure breaches of the laws, we are very well assured shall not be\nattempted in her majesty's time: nay, on the contrary, the\nsuperiority, and influence of parliaments over and upon the management\nof public matters, nay, even their influence upon the royal majesty of\nthe sovereign, has been such, and has in such a manner insensibly\nincreased of late, that the like has never been known or practised in\nthis nation for some ages before. We see her majesty declines\nextending her prerogative, either to the detriment of her subjects, in\ncases civil or religious, and wherein it might be so extended; nay,\nwhen even the parliament have desired her to extend it: so that we\nhave a great satisfaction in the safety of our established liberties,\nand that no tyrannical, arbitrary invasions of right shall be made\nduring her majesty's reign. But what if the queen should die?\nIn like manner for our properties, our estates, inheritance, lands,\ngoods, lives, liberties, &c. These are effectually secured by laws of\nthe land, and the sovereign in this country, having no right, but by\nlaw, to any part of the subject's estate, causes that estate to be\ncalled PROPERTY. The kings and queens of Britain are monarchs limited\nto act by the laws. When they cease to rule by law, the constitution\nis broken, and they become tyrants, and arbitrary, despotic invaders\nof right. This is declared by the revolution, wherein the rights of\nthe subject are openly, not set down only, but claimed, demanded as\nwhat justice required should be granted to them, and as what the\nsovereign, as aforesaid, has no right, no pretence, no just authority\nto take, or detain from him. This is the great capital and fundamental\narticle of Magna Charta, and the foundation upon which all the laws\nsubsequent and consequential to Magna Charta have been made. [_No\nfreeman shall be taken or imprisoned, or be disseized of his freehold,\nor liberties, or free customs, or be outlawed, or exiled, or otherwise\ndestroyed; nor we will not pass upon him, nor condemn him, but by\nlawful judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land._ Magna\nCharta, cap. xxix.] The words are plain and direct; and as to the\nsubject we are now upon, they require no comment, no explication.\nWhatever they do, as to pleading in law the proof of the subject's\nright to the free possession of his own property, is also the less\nneedful to enlarge upon here, because it is acknowledged in full and\nexpress terms by the sovereign, as well in practice, as in expression.\nHer majesty, adhering strictly to this, as a rule, has from the\nbeginning of her reign made it her golden rule, to govern according to\nlaw. Nor, while the establishment of the crown itself is built upon\nthe legal constitution of this nation, can it be otherwise here: that\nprince that governs here and not by law, may be said rather to oppress\nthan to govern; rather to overrule, than to rule over his people. Now\nit cannot without great and unjustifiable violence to her majesty's\njust government, be suggested, that we are in any danger of oppression\nduring the righteous administration of her majesty's reign. The queen\nraises no money without act of parliament, keeps up no standing army\nin time of peace, disseizes no man of his property or estate; but\nevery man sits in safety under his own vine, and his fig-tree; and we\ndoubt not but we shall do as long as her majesty lives. But what if\nthe queen should die?\nPossibly cavils may rise in the mouths of those whose conduct this\nnice question may seem to affect, that this is a question unfit to be\nasked, and questionless such people will have much to say upon that\nsubject; as that it is a factious question, a question needless to be\nanswered, and impertinent therefore to be asked; that it is a question\nwhich respects things remote, and serves only to fill the heads of the\npeople with fears and jealousies; that it is a question to which no\ndirect answer can be given, and which suggests strange surmises, and\namuses people about they know not what, and is of no use, but to make\npeople uneasy without cause.\nAs there is no objection, which is material enough to make, but is\nmaterial enough to answer, so this, although there is nothing of\nsubstance in it, may introduce something in its answer of substance\nenough to consider: it is therefore most necessary to convince the\nconsidering reader of the usefulness and necessity of putting this\nquestion; and then likewise the usefulness and necessity of putting\nthis question NOW at this time; and if it appear to be both a needful\nquestion itself, and a seasonable question, as to time, the rest of\nthe cavils against it will deserve the less regard. That it is a\nneedful question, seems justified more abundantly from a very great\nexample, to wit, the practice of the whole nation, in settling the\nsuccession of the crown. This I take to be nothing else but this: the\nqueen having no issue of her body, and the pretender to the crown\nbeing expelled by law, included in his father's disastrous flight and\nabdication; when the parliament came to consider of the state of the\nnation, as to government as it now stands; that King William being\nlately dead, and her majesty with universal joy of her people, being\nreceived as queen, the safety, and the lasting happiness of the nation\nis so far secured. But what if the queen should die?\nThe introduction to all the acts of parliaments for settling the\ncrown, implies thus much, and speaks directly this language, viz., to\nmake the nation safe and easy in case the queen should die: nor are\nany of these acts of parliament impeached of faction, or\nimpertinences; much less of needless blaming the people, and filling\ntheir heads with fears and jealousies. If this example of the\nparliament is not enough justifying to this inquiry, the well known\ntruth, upon which that example of parliament is grounded, is\nsufficient to justify it, viz., that we all know the queen must die.\nNone say this with more concern and regret than those who are\nforwardest to put this question, as being of the opinion above said,\nthat, we are effectually secured against the pretender, and against\nall the terrifying consequences of the Frenchified governors, during\nher majesty's life. But this is evident, the queen is mortal, though\ncrowned with all that flattering courtiers can bring together, to make\nher appear great, glorious, famous, or what you please; yet the queen,\nyea, the queen herself, is _mortal_, and MUST die. It is true, kings\nand queens are called gods; but this respects their sacred power:\nnothing supposing an immortality attending their persons, for they all\ndie like other men, and their dust knows no distinction in the grave.\nSince then it is most certain that the queen must die, and our safety\nand happiness in this nation depends so much upon the stability of our\nliberties, religion, and aforesaid dependencies after her majesty's\nlife shall end, it cannot be a question offensive to any who has any\nconcern in the public good, to inquire into what shall be the state of\nour condition, or the posture of our affairs, when the queen shall\ndie; but this is not all neither. As the queen is mortal, and we are\nassured she must die, so we are none of us certain as to be able to\nknow when, or how soon, that disaster may happen; at what time, or in\nwhat manner. This then, as it may be remote, and not a long time; God\nof his infinite mercy grant it may be long first, and not before this\ndifficult question we are upon be effectually and satisfactorily\nanswered to the nation; so on the other side, it may be near; none of\nus know how near, the fatal blow may befall us soon, and sooner far\nthan we may be ready; for to-day it may come, while the cavilling\nreader is objecting against our putting this question, and calling it\nunreasonable and needless; while the word is in thy very mouth, mayest\nthou hear the fatal, melancholy news, the queen is dead. News that\nmust one time or other be heard; the word will certainly come some\ntime or other, to be spoken in the present sense, and to be sure in\nthe time they are spoken in. How can any one then say, that it is\nimproper to ask what shall be our case, what shall we do, or what\nshall be done with us, If the queen should die?\nBut we have another melancholy incident, which attends the queen's\nmortality, and which makes this question more than ordinarily\nseasonable to be asked at this time; and that is, that not only the\nqueen is mortal, and she must die, and the time uncertain; so that she\nmay die, even to-day, before to-morrow, or in a very little space of\ntime: but her life is, under God's providence, at the mercy of papists\nand jacobites' people; who, the one by their principles, and the other\nby the circumstances of their party, are more than ordinarily to be\napprehended for their bloody designs against her majesty, and against\nthe whole nation. Nay, there seems more reason to be apprehensive of\nthe dangerous attempts of these desperate people, at this time, than\never, even from the very reasons which are given all along in this\nwork, for our being safe in our privileges, our religious and civil\nrights, during her majesty's life. It would be mispending your time to\nprove that the papists and jacobite parties in this nation, however\nthey may, as we have said, be under ties and obligations of honour,\ninterest, and gratitude, &c., not to make attempt upon us during the\nqueen's life; yet that they are more encouraged at this time than ever\nthey were to hope and believe, that when the queen shall die, their\nturn stands next. This, we say, we believe is lost labour to speak of:\nthe said people, the popish and tory party, will freely own and oppose\nit. They all take their obligations to the queen to end with her\nmajesty's life. The French king, however in honour and gratitude he\nmay think himself bound not to encourage the pretender to insult her\nmajesty's dominions, while the queen, with whom he personally is\nengaged by treaty, shall remain alive, will think himself fully at\nliberty from those obligations when the queen shall die. If we are not\nmisinformed of the French affairs, and of the notions they have in\nFrance of these things, they are generally no otherwise understood\nthan that the king of France is engaged by the peace now in view, not\nto disturb her majesty's possession during her reign and her life; but\nthat then the pretender's right is to be received everywhere. The\npretender himself, howsoever, as above said, he may despair of his\nsuccess in attempting to take possession during the queen's life, will\nnot fail to assume new hopes at her majesty's death: so much then of\nthe hopes of popery and French power; so much of the interest of the\npretender depending upon the single thread of life of a mortal person;\nand we being well assured that they look upon her majesty only as the\nincumbent in a living, or tenant for life in an estate, what is more\nnatural, than in this case for us to apprehend danger to the life of\nthe queen; especially to such people, who are known not to make much\nconsciences of murdering princes, with whom the king-killing doctrine\nis so universally received, and who were so often detected of\nvillanous practices and plots against the life of Queen Elizabeth, her\nmajesty's famous predecessor, and that upon the same foundation, viz.,\nthe queen of Scots being the popish pretender to the crown; what can\nwe expect from the same party, and men acting from the same\nprinciples, but the same practices? It is known that the queen, by\ncourse of nature, may live many years, and these people have many\nreasons to be impatient of so much delay. They know that many\naccidents may intervene to make the circumstances of the nation, at\nthe time of the queen's death, less favourable to their interests than\nthey are now; they may have fewer friends, as well in power, as out of\npower, by length of time, and the like: these, and such as these\nconsiderations may excite villanous and murderous practices against\nthe precious life of our sovereign (God protect her majesty from\nthem); but while all these considerations so naturally offer\nthemselves to us, it seems most rational, needful, seasonable, and\njust, that we should be asking and answering this great question,\nWhat if the queen should die?\nThus far we have only asked the question itself, and showed our\nreasons, or endeavoured to justify the reasonableness of the inquiry.\nIt follows that we make some brief essay as an answer to the question.\nThis may be done many ways; but the design of this tract is rather to\nput the question into your thought, than to put an answer into your\nmouths. The several answers which may be given to this important\nquestion may not be proper for a public print; and some may not be fit\nso much as to be spoken. The question is not without its uses, whether\nit be answered or no, if the nation be sufficiently awakened but to\nask the question among themselves; they will be brought by thinking of\nthe thing to answer it one to another in a short space. The people of\nBritain want only to be showed what imminent danger they are in, in\ncase of the queen's decease: how much their safety and felicity depend\nupon the life of her majesty, and what a state of confusion, distress,\nand all sorts of dreadful calamities they will fall into at her\nmajesty's death, if something be not done to settle them before her\ndeath; and if they are not during her majesty's life secured from the\npower of France, and the danger of the pretender.\nEND OF \"WHAT IF THE QUEEN SHOULD DIE?\"", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  An Answer to a Question that Nobody thinks of, viz., But what if the Queen should Die?\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Transcribed from the 1889 George Bell & Sons edition by David Price,\nemail ccx074@coventry.ac.uk\nEVERYBODY'S BUSINESS IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS\nor,\nPRIVATE ABUSES, PUBLIC GRIEVANCES:\nEXEMPLIFIED\nIn the Pride, Insolence, and exorbitant Wages of our Women, Servants,\nFootmen, &c.\nWITH\nA Proposal for Amendment of the same; as also for clearing the Streets of\nthose Vermin called Shoe-Cleaners, and substituting in their stead many\nThousands of industrious Poor, now ready to starve.  With divers other\nHints of great Use to the Public.\nHumbly submitted the Consideration of our Legislature, and the careful\nPerusal of all Masters and Mistresses of Families.\nBY ANDREW MORETON, Esq.\nThe Fifth Edition, with the Addition of a Preface.\nLONDON:\nPrinted for W. MEADOWS, in Cornhill; and sold by T. WARNER, at the Black\nBoy in Pater-Noster Row; A. DODD, without Temple Bar; and E. NUTT, at the\nRoyal Exchange.  1725.\nPrice Six Pence.]\nTHE PREFACE\nSince this little book appeared in print, it has had no less than three\nanswers, and fresh attacks are daily expected from the powers of Grub-\nstreet; but should threescore antagonists more arise, unless they say\nmore to the purpose than the forementioned, they shall not tempt me to\nreply.\nNor shall I engage in a paper war, but leave my book to answer for\nitself, having advanced nothing therein but evident truths, and\nincontestible matters of fact.\nThe general objection is against my style; I do not set up for an author,\nbut write only to be understood, no matter how plain.\nAs my intentions are good, so have they had the good fortune to meet with\napprobation from the sober and substantial part of mankind; as for the\nvicious and vagabond, their ill-will is my ambition.\nIt is with uncommon satisfaction I see the magistracy begin to put the\nlaws against vagabonds in force with the utmost vigour, a great many of\nthose vermin, the japanners, having lately been taken up and sent to the\nseveral work-houses in and about this city; and indeed high time, for\nthey grow every day more and more pernicious.\nMy project for putting watchmen under commissioners, will, I hope, be put\nin practice; for it is scarce safe to go by water unless you know your\nman.\nAs for the maid-servants, if I undervalue myself to take notice of them,\nas they are pleased to say, it is because they overvalue themselves so\nmuch they ought to be taken notice of.\nThis makes the guilty take my subject by the wrong end, but any impartial\nreader may find, I write not against servants, but bad servants; not\nagainst wages, but exorbitant wages, and am entirely of the poet's\nopinion,\n   The good should meet with favour and applause,\n   The wicked be restrain'd by wholesome laws.\nThe reason why I did not publish this book till the end of the last\nsessions of parliament was, because I did not care to interfere with more\nmomentous affairs; but leave it to the consideration of that august body\nduring this recess, against the next sessions, when I shall exhibit\nanother complaint against a growing abuse, for which I doubt not but to\nreceive their approbation and the thanks of all honest men.\nEVERYBODY'S BUSINESS IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS\nThis is a proverb so common in everybody's mouth, that I wonder nobody\nhas yet thought it worth while to draw proper inferences from it, and\nexpose those little abuses, which, though they seem trifling, and as it\nwere scarce worth consideration, yet, by insensible degrees, they may\nbecome of injurious consequence to the public; like some diseases, whose\nfirst symptoms are only trifling disorders, but by continuance and\nprogression, their last periods terminate in the destruction of the whole\nhuman fabric.\nIn contradiction therefore to this general rule, and out of sincere love\nand well meaning to the public, give me leave to enumerate the abuses\ninsensibly crept in among us, and the inconveniences daily arising from\nthe insolence and intrigues of our servant-wenches, who, by their\ncaballing together, have made their party so considerable, that everybody\ncries out against them; and yet, to verify the proverb, nobody has\nthought of, or at least proposed a remedy, although such an undertaking,\nmean as it seems to be, I hope will one day be thought worthy the\nconsideration of our king, lords, and commons.\nWomen servants are now so scarce, that from thirty and forty shillings a\nyear, their wages are increased of late to six, seven, nay, eight pounds\nper annum, and upwards; insomuch that an ordinary tradesman cannot well\nkeep one; but his wife, who might be useful in his shop or business, must\ndo the drudgery of household affairs; and all this because our servant-\nwenches are so puffed up with pride nowadays, that they never think they\ngo fine enough: it is a hard matter to know the mistress from the maid by\ntheir dress; nay, very often the maid shall be much the finer of the two.\nOur woollen manufacture suffers much by this, for nothing but silks and\nsatins will go down with our kitchen-wenches; to support which\nintolerable pride, they have insensibly raised their wages to such a\nheight as was never known in any age or nation but this.\nLet us trace this from the beginning, and suppose a person has a servant-\nmaid sent him out of the country, at fifty shillings, or three pounds a\nyear.  The girl has scarce been a week, nay, a day in her service, but a\ncommittee of servant-wenches are appointed to examine her, who advise her\nto raise her wages, or give warning; to encourage her to which, the herb-\nwoman, or chandler-woman, or some other old intelligencer, provides her a\nplace of four or five pounds a year; this sets madam cock-a-hoop, and she\nthinks of nothing now but vails and high wages, and so gives warning from\nplace to place, till she has got her wages up to the tip-top.\nHer neat's leathern shoes are now transformed into laced ones with high\nheels; her yarn stockings are turned into fine woollen ones, with silk\nclocks; and her high wooden pattens are kicked away for leathern clogs;\nshe must have a hoop too, as well as her mistress; and her poor scanty\nlinsey-woolsey petticoat is changed into a good silk one, for four or\nfive yards wide at the least.  Not to carry the description farther, in\nshort, plain country Joan is now turned into a fine London madam, can\ndrink tea, take snuff, and carry herself as high as the best.\nIf she be tolerably handsome, and has any share of cunning, the\napprentice or her master's son is enticed away and ruined by her.  Thus\nmany good families are impoverished and disgraced by these pert sluts,\nwho, taking the advantage of a young man's simplicity and unruly desires,\ndraw many heedless youths, nay, some of good estates, into their snares;\nand of this we have but too many instances.\nSome more artful shall conceal their condition, and palm themselves off\non young fellows for gentlewomen and great fortunes.  How many families\nhave been ruined by these ladies? when the father or master of the\nfamily, preferring the flirting airs of a young prinked up strumpet, to\nthe artless sincerity of a plain, grave, and good wife, has given his\ndesires aloose, and destroyed soul, body, family, and estate.  But they\nare very favourable if they wheedle nobody into matrimony, but only make\na present of a small live creature, no bigger than a bastard, to some of\nthe family, no matter who gets it; when a child is born it must be kept.\nOur sessions' papers of late are crowded with instances of servant-maids\nrobbing their places, this can be only attributed to their devilish\npride; for their whole inquiry nowadays is, how little they shall do, how\nmuch they shall have.\nBut all this while they make so little reserve, that if they fall sick\nthe parish must keep them, if they are out of place, they must prostitute\ntheir bodies, or starve; so that from clopping and changing, they\ngenerally proceed to whoring and thieving, and this is the reason why our\nstreets swarm with strumpets.\nThus many of them rove from place to place, from bawdy-house to service,\nand from service to bawdy-house again, ever unsettled and never easy,\nnothing being more common than to find these creatures one week in a good\nfamily, and the next in a brothel.  This amphibious life makes them fit\nfor neither, for if the bawd uses them ill, away they trip to service,\nand if the mistress gives them a wry word, whip they are at a bawdy-house\nagain, so that in effect they neither make good whores nor good servants.\nThose who are not thus slippery in the tail, are light of finger; and of\nthese the most pernicious are those who beggar you inchmeal.  If a maid\nis a downright thief she strips you, it once, and you know your loss; but\nthese retail pilferers waste you insensibly, and though you hardly miss\nit, yet your substance shall decay to such a degree, that you must have a\nvery good bottom indeed not to feel the ill effects of such moths in your\nfamily.\nTea, sugar, wine, &c., or any such trifling commodities, are reckoned no\nthefts, if they do not directly take your pewter from your shelf, or your\nlinen from your drawers, they are very honest: What harm is there, say\nthey, in cribbing a little matter for a junket, a merry bout or so?  Nay,\nthere are those that when they are sent to market for one joint of meat,\nshall take up two on their master's account, and leave one by the way,\nfor some of these maids are mighty charitable, and can make a shift to\nmaintain a small family with what they can purloin from their masters and\nmistresses.\nIf you send them with ready money, they turn factors, and take threepence\nor fourpence in the shilling brokerage.  And here let me take notice of\none very heinous abuse, not to say petty felony, which is practised in\nmost of the great families about town, which is, when the tradesman gives\nthe house-keeper or other commanding servant a penny or twopence in the\nshilling, or so much in the pound, for everything they send in, and\nwhich, from thence, is called poundage.\nThis, in my opinion, is the greatest of villanies, and ought to incur\nsome punishment, yet nothing is more common, and our topping tradesmen,\nwho seem otherwise to stand mightily on their credit, make this but a\nmatter of course and custom.  If I do not, says one, another will (for\nthe servant is sure to pick a hole in the person's coat who shall not pay\ncontribution).  Thus this wicked practice is carried on and winked at,\nwhile receiving of stolen goods, and confederating with felons, which is\nnot a jot worse, is so openly cried out against, and severely punished,\nwitness Jonathan Wild.\nAnd yet if a master or mistress inquire after anything missing, they must\nbe sure to place their words in due form, or madam huffs and flings about\nat a strange rate, What, would you make a thief of her?  Who would live\nwith such mistrustful folks?  Thus you are obliged to hold your tongue,\nand sit down quietly by your loss, for fear of offending your maid,\nforsooth!\nAgain, if your maid shall maintain one, two, or more persons from your\ntable, whether they are her poor relations, countryfolk, servants out of\nplace, shoe-cleaners, charwomen, porters, or any other of her menial\nservants, who do her ladyship's drudgery and go of her errands, you must\nnot complain at your expense, or ask what has become of such a thing, or\nsuch a thing; although it might never so reasonably be supposed that it\nwas altogether impossible to have so much expended in your family; but\nhold your tongue for peace sake, or madam will say, You grudge her\nvictuals; and expose you to the last degree all over the neighbourhood.\nThus have they a salve for every sore, cheat you to your face, and insult\nyou into the bargain; nor can you help yourself without exposing\nyourself, or putting yourself into a passion.\nAnother great abuse crept in among us, is the giving of veils to\nservants; this was intended originally as an encouragement to such as\nwere willing and handy, but by custom and corruption it is now grown to\nbe a thorn in our sides, and, like other good things, abused, does more\nharm than good; for now they make it a perquisite, a material part of\ntheir wages, nor must their master give a supper, but the maid expects\nthe guests should pay for it, nay, sometimes through the nose.  Thus have\nthey spirited people up to this unnecessary and burthensome piece of\ngenerosity unknown to our forefathers, who only gave gifts to servants at\nChristmas-tide, which custom is yet kept into the bargain; insomuch that\na maid shall have eight pounds per annum in a gentleman's or merchant's\nfamily.  And if her master is a man of free spirit, who receives much\ncompany, she very often doubles her wages by her veils; thus having meat,\ndrink, washing, and lodging for her labour, she throws her whole income\nupon her back, and by this means looks more like the mistress of the\nfamily than the servant-wench.\nAnd now we have mentioned washing, I would ask some good housewifely\ngentlewoman, if servant-maids wearing printed linens, cottons, and other\nthings of that nature, which require frequent washing, do not, by\nenhancing the article of soap, add more to housekeeping than the\ngenerality of people would imagine?  And yet these wretches cry out\nagainst great washes, when their own unnecessary dabs are very often the\noccasion.\nBut the greatest abuse of all is, that these creatures are become their\nown lawgivers; nay, I think they are ours too, though nobody would\nimagine that such a set of slatterns should bamboozle a whole nation; but\nit is neither better nor worse, they hire themselves to you by their own\nrule.\nThat is, a month's wages, or a month's warning; if they don't like you\nthey will go away the next day, help yourself how you can; if you don't\nlike them, you must give them a month's wages to get rid of them.\nThis custom of warning, as practised by our maid-servants, is now become\na great inconvenience to masters and mistresses.  You must carry your\ndish very upright, or miss, forsooth, gives you warning, and you are\neither left destitute, or to seek for a servant; so that, generally\nspeaking, you are seldom or never fixed, but always at the mercy of every\nnew comer to divulge your family affairs, to inspect your private life,\nand treasure up the sayings of yourself and friends.  A very great\nconfinement, and much complained of in most families.\nThus have these wenches, by their continual plotting and cabals, united\nthemselves into a formidable body, and got the whip hand of their\nbetters; they make their own terms with us; and two servants now, will\nscarce undertake the work which one might perform with ease;\nnotwithstanding which, they have raised their wages to a most exorbitant\npitch; and, I doubt not, if there be not a stop put to their career, but\nthey will bring wages up to 201. per annum in time, for they are much\nabout half way already.\nIt is by these means they run away with a great part of our money, which\nmight be better employed in trade, and what is worse, by their insolent\nbehaviour, their pride in dress, and their exorbitant wages, they give\nbirth to the following inconveniences.\nFirst, They set an ill example to our children, our apprentices, our\ncovenant servants, and other dependants, by their saucy and insolent\nbehaviour, their pert, and sometimes abusive answers, their daring\ndefiance of correction, and many other insolences which youth are but too\napt to imitate.\nSecondly, By their extravagance in dress, they put our wives and\ndaughters upon yet greater excesses, because they will, as indeed they\nought, go finer than the maid; thus the maid striving to outdo the\nmistress, the tradesman's wife to outdo the gentleman's wife, the\ngentleman's wife emulating the lady, and the ladies one another; it seems\nas if the whole business of the female sex were nothing but an excess of\npride, and extravagance in dress.\nThirdly, The great height to which women-servants have brought their\nwages, makes a mutiny among the men-servants, and puts them upon raising\ntheir wages too; so that in a little time our servants will become our\npartners; nay, probably, run away with the better part of our profits,\nand make servants of us _vice versa_.  But yet with all these\ninconveniences, we cannot possibly do without these creatures; let us\ntherefore cease to talk of the abuses arising from them, and begin to\nthink of redressing them.  I do not set up for a lawgiver, and therefore\nshall lay down no certain rules, humbly submitting in all things to the\nwisdom of our legislature.  What I offer shall be under correction; and\nupon conjecture, my utmost ambition being but to give some hints to\nremedy this growing evil, and leave the prosecution to abler hands.\nAnd first it would be necessary to settle and limit their wages, from\nforty and fifty shillings to four and five pounds per annum, that is to\nsay, according to their merits and capacities; for example, a young\nunexperienced servant should have forty shillings per annum, till she\nqualifies herself for a larger sum; a servant who can do all household\nwork, or, as the good women term it, can take her work and leave her\nwork, should have four pounds per annum; and those who have lived seven\nyears in one service, should ever after demand five pounds per annum, for\nI would very fain have some particular encouragements and privileges\ngiven to such servants who should continue long in a place; it would\nincite a desire to please, and cause an emulation very beneficial to the\npublic.\nI have heard of an ancient charity in the parish of St. Clement's Danes,\nwhere a sum of money, or estate, is left, out of the interest or income\nof which such maid-servants, who have lived in that parish seven years in\none service, receive a reward of ten pounds apiece, if they please to\ndemand it.\nThis is a noble benefaction, and shows the public spirit of the donor;\nbut everybody's business is nobody's; nor have I heard that such reward\nhas been paid to any servant of late years.  A thousand pities a gift of\nthat nature should sink into oblivion, and not be kept up as an example\nto incite all parishes to do the like.\nThe Romans had a law called _Jus Trium Liberorum_, by which every man who\nhad been a father of three children, had particular honours and\nprivileges.  This incited the youth to quit a dissolute single life and\nbecome fathers of families, to the support and glory of the empire.\nIn imitation of this most excellent law, I would have such servants, who\nshould continue many years in one service, meet with singular esteem and\nreward.\nThe apparel of our women-servants should be next regulated, that we may\nknow the mistress from the maid.  I remember I was once put very much to\nthe blush, being at a friend's house, and by him required to salute the\nladies, I kissed the chamber-jade into the bargain, for she was as well\ndressed as the best.  But I was soon undeceived by a general titter,\nwhich gave me the utmost confusion; nor can I believe myself the only\nperson who has made such a mistake.\nThings of this nature would be easily avoided, if servant-maids were to\nwear liveries, as our footmen do; or obliged to go in a dress suitable to\ntheir station.  What should ail them, but a jacket and petticoat of good\nyard-wide stuff, or calimanco, might keep them decent and warm.\nOur charity children are distinguished by their dress, why then may not\nour women-servants? why may they not be made frugal per force, and not\nsuffered to put all on their backs, but obliged to save something against\na rainy day?  I am, therefore, entirely against servants wearing of\nsilks, laces, and other superfluous finery; it sets them above\nthemselves, and makes their mistresses contemptible in their eyes.  I am\nhandsomer than my mistress, says a young prinked up baggage, what pity it\nis I should be her servant, I go as well dressed, or better than she.\nThis makes the girl take the first offer to be made a whore, and there is\na good servant spoiled; whereas, were her dress suitable to her\ncondition, it would teach her humility, and put her in mind of her duty.\nBesides the fear of spoiling their clothes makes them afraid of household-\nwork; so that in a little time we shall have none but chambermaids and\nnurserymaids; and of this let me give one instance; my family is composed\nof myself and sister, a man and a maid; and, being without the last, a\nyoung wench came to hire herself.  The man was gone out, and my sister\nabove stairs, so I opened the door myself; and this person presented\nherself to my view, dressed completely, more like a visitor than a\nservant-maid; she, not knowing me, asked for my sister; pray, madam, said\nI, be pleased to walk into the parlour, she shall wait on you presently.\nAccordingly I handed madam in, who took it very cordially.  After some\napology, I left her alone for a minute or two; while I, stupid wretch!\nran up to my sister, and told her there was a gentlewoman below come to\nvisit her.  Dear brother, said she, don't leave her alone, go down and\nentertain her while I dress myself.  Accordingly, down I went, and talked\nof indifferent affairs; meanwhile my sister dressed herself all over\nagain, not being willing to be seen in an undress.  At last she came down\ndressed as clean as her visitor; but how great was my surprise when I\nfound my fine lady a common servant-wench.\nMy sister understanding what she was, began to inquire what wages she\nexpected?  She modestly asked but eight pounds a year.  The next question\nwas, what work she could do to deserve such wages? to which she answered,\nshe could clean a house, or dress a common family dinner.  But cannot you\nwash, replied my sister, or get up linen? she answered in the negative,\nand said, she would undertake neither, nor would she go into a family\nthat did not put out their linen to wash, and hire a charwoman to scour.\nShe desired to see the house, and having carefully surveyed it, said, the\nwork was too hard for her, nor could she undertake it.  This put my\nsister beyond all patience, and me into the greatest admiration.  Young\nwoman, said she, you have made a mistake, I want a housemaid, and you are\na chambermaid.  No, madam, replied she, I am not needlewoman enough for\nthat.  And yet you ask eight pounds a year, replied my sister.  Yes,\nmadam, said she, nor shall I bate a farthing.  Then get you gone for a\nlazy impudent baggage, said I, you want to be a boarder not a servant;\nhave you a fortune or estate that you dress at that rate?  No, sir, said\nshe, but I hope I may wear what I work for without offence.  What you\nwork, interrupted my sister, why you do not seem willing to undertake any\nwork; you will not wash nor scour; you cannot dress a dinner for company;\nyou are no needlewoman; and our little house of two rooms on a floor, is\ntoo much for you.  For God's sake what can you do?  Madam, replied she\npertly; I know my business; and do not fear a service; there are more\nplaces than parish churches; if you wash at home, you should have a\nlaundrymaid; if you give entertainments, you must have a cookmaid; if you\nhave any needlework, you should have a chambermaid; and such a house as\nthis is enough for a housemaid in all conscience.\nI was pleased at the wit, and astonished at the impudence of the girl, so\ndismissed her with thanks for her instructions, assuring her that when I\nkept four maids she should be housemaid if she pleased.\nWere a servant to do my business with cheerfulness, I should not grudge\nat five or six pounds per annum; nor would I be so unchristian to put\nmore upon any one than they can bear; but to pray and pay too is the\ndevil.  It is very hard, that I must keep four servants or none.\nIn great families, indeed, where many servants are required, those\ndistinctions of chambermaid, housemaid, cookmaid, laundrymaid,\nnurserymaid, &c., are requisite, to the end that each may take her\nparticular business, and many hands may make the work light; but for a\nprivate gentleman, of a small fortune, to be obliged to keep so many idle\njades, when one might do the business, is intolerable, and matter of\ngreat grievance.\nI cannot close this discourse without a gentle admonition and reproof to\nsome of my own sex, I mean those gentlemen who give themselves\nunnecessary airs, and cannot go to see a friend, but they must kiss and\nslop the maid; and all this is done with an air of gallantry, and must\nnot be resented.  Nay, some gentlemen are so silly, that they shall carry\non an underhand affair with their friend's servant-maid, to their own\ndisgrace, and the ruin of many a young creature.  Nothing is more base\nand ungenerous, yet nothing more common, and withal so little taken\nnotice of.  D-n me, Jack, says one friend to another, this maid of yours\nis a pretty girl, you do so and so to her, by G-d.  This makes the\ncreature pert, vain, and impudent, and spoils many a good servant.\nWhat gentleman will descend to this low way of intrigue, when he shall\nconsider that he has a footboy or an apprentice for his rival, and that\nhe is seldom or never admitted, but when they have been his tasters; and\nthe fool of fortune, though he comes at the latter end of the feast, yet\npays the whole reckoning; and so indeed would I have all such silly\ncullies served.\nIf I must have an intrigue, let it be with a woman that shall not shame\nme.  I would never go into the kitchen, when the parlour door was open.\nWe are forbidden at Highgate, to kiss the maid when we may kiss the\nmistress; why then will gentlemen descend so low, by too much familiarity\nwith these creatures, to bring themselves into contempt?\nI have been at places where the maid has been so dizzied with these idle\ncompliments that she has mistook one thing for another, and not regarded\nher mistress in the least; but put on all the flirting airs imaginable.\nThis behaviour is nowhere so much complained of as in taverns,\ncoffeehouses, and places of public resort, where there are handsome bar-\nkeepers, &c.  These creatures being puffed up with the fulsome flattery\nof a set of flesh-flies, which are continually buzzing about them, carry\nthemselves with the utmost insolence imaginable; insomuch, that you must\nspeak to them with a great deal of deference, or you are sure to be\naffronted.  Being at a coffeehouse the other day, where one of these\nladies kept the bar, I had bespoke a dish of rice tea; but madam was so\ntaken up with her sparks, she had quite forgot it.  I spake for it again,\nand with some temper, but was answered after a most taunting manner, not\nwithout a toss of the head, a contraction of the nostrils, and other\nimpertinences, too many to enumerate.  Seeing myself thus publicly\ninsulted by such an animal, I could not choose but show my resentment.\nWoman, said I, sternly, I want a dish of rice tea, and not what your\nvanity and impudence may imagine; therefore treat me as a gentleman and a\ncustomer, and serve me with what I call for: keep your impertinent\nrepartees and impudent behaviour for the coxcombs that swarm round your\nbar, and make you so vain of your blown carcase.  And indeed I believe\nthe insolence of this creature will ruin her master at last, by driving\naway men of sobriety and business, and making the place a den of\nvagabonds and rakehells.\nGentlemen, therefore, ought to be very circumspect in their behaviour,\nand not undervalue themselves to servant-wenches, who are but too apt to\ntreat a gentleman ill whenever he puts himself into their power.\nLet me now beg pardon for this digression, and return to my subject by\nproposing some practicable methods for regulating of servants, which,\nwhether they are followed or not, yet, if they afford matter of\nimprovement and speculation, will answer the height of my expectation,\nand I will be the first who shall approve of whatever improvements are\nmade from this small beginning.\nThe first abuse I would have reformed is, that servants should be\nrestrained from throwing themselves out of place on every idle vagary.\nThis might be remedied were all contracts between master and servant made\nbefore a justice of peace, or other proper officer, and a memorandum\nthereof taken in writing.  Nor should such servant leave his or her place\n(for men and maids might come under the same regulation) till the time\nagreed on be expired, unless such servant be misused or denied\nnecessaries, or show some other reasonable cause for their discharge.  In\nthat case, the master or mistress should be reprimanded or fined.  But if\nservants misbehave themselves, or leave their places, not being regularly\ndischarged, they ought to be amerced or punished.  But all those idle,\nridiculous customs, and laws of their own making, as a month's wages, or\na month's warning, and suchlike, should be entirely set aside and\nabolished.\nWhen a servant has served the limited time duly and faithfully, they\nshould be entitled to a certificate, as is practised at present in the\nwool-combing trade; nor should any person hire a servant without a\ncertificate or other proper security.  A servant without a certificate\nshould be deemed a vagrant; and a master or mistress ought to assign very\ngood reasons indeed when they object against giving a servant his or her\ncertificate.\nAnd though, to avoid prolixity, I have not mentioned footmen particularly\nin the foregoing discourse, yet the complaints alleged against the maids\nare as well masculine as feminine, and very applicable to our gentlemen's\ngentlemen; I would, therefore, have them under the very same regulations,\nand, as they are fellow-servants, would not make fish of one and flesh of\nthe other, since daily experience teaches us, that \"never a barrel the\nbetter herring.\"\nThe next great abuse among us is, that under the notion of cleaning our\nshoes, above ten thousand wicked, idle, pilfering vagrants are permitted\nto patrol about our city and suburbs.  These are called the black-guard,\nwho black your honour's shoes, and incorporate themselves under the title\nof the Worshipful Company of Japanners.\nWere this all, there were no hurt in it, and the whole might terminate in\na jest; but the mischief ends not here, they corrupt our youth,\nespecially our men-servants; oaths and impudence are their only flowers\nof rhetoric; gaming and thieving are the principal parts of their\nprofession; japanning but the pretence.  For example, a gentleman keeps a\nservant, who among other things is to clean his master's shoes; but our\ngentlemen's gentlemen are above it nowadays, and your man's man performs\nthe office, for which piece of service you pay double and treble,\nespecially if you keep a table, nay, you are well off if the japanner has\nno more than his own diet from it.\nI have often observed these rascals sneaking from gentlemen's doors with\nwallets or hats' full of good victuals, which they either carry to their\ntrulls, or sell for a trifle.  By this means, our butcher's, our baker's,\nour poulterer's, and cheesemonger's bills are monstrously exaggerated;\nnot to mention candles just lighted, which sell for fivepence a pound,\nand many other perquisites best known to themselves and the pilfering\nvillains their confederates.\nAdd to this, that their continual gaming sets servants upon their wits to\nsupply this extravagance, though at the same time the master's pocket\npays for it, and the time which should be spent in a gentleman's service\nis loitered away among these rakehells, insomuch that half our messages\nare ineffectual, the time intended being often expired before the message\nis delivered.\nHow many frequent robberies are committed by these japanners?  And to how\nmany more are they confederates?  Silver spoons, spurs, and other small\npieces of plate, are every day missing, and very often found upon these\nsort of gentlemen; yet are they permitted, to the shame of all our good\nlaws, and the scandal of our most excellent government, to lurk about our\nstreets, to debauch our servants and apprentices, and support an infinite\nnumber of scandalous, shameless trulls, yet more wicked than themselves,\nfor not a Jack among them but must have his Gill.\nBy whom such indecencies are daily acted, even in our open streets, as\nare very offensive to the eyes and ears of all sober persons, and even\nabominable in a Christian country.\nIn any riot, or other disturbance, these sparks are always the foremost;\nfor most among them can turn their hands to picking of pockets, to run\naway with goods from a fire, or other public confusion, to snatch\nanything from a woman or child, to strip a house when the door is open,\nor any other branch of a thief's profession.\nIn short, it is a nursery for thieves and villains; modest women are\nevery day insulted by them and their strumpets; and such children who run\nabout the streets, or those servants who go on errands, do but too\nfrequently bring home some scraps of their beastly profane wit; insomuch,\nthat the conversation of our lower rank of people runs only upon bawdy\nand blasphemy, notwithstanding our societies for reformation, and our\nlaws in force against profaneness; for this lazy life gets them many\nproselytes, their numbers daily increasing from runaway apprentices and\nfootboys, insomuch that it is a very hard matter for a gentleman to get\nhim a servant, or for a tradesman to find an apprentice.\nInnumerable other mischiefs accrue, and others will spring up from this\nrace of caterpillars, who must be swept from out our streets, or we shall\nbe overrun with all manner of wickedness.\nBut the subject is so low, it becomes disagreeable even to myself; give\nme leave, therefore, to propose a way to clear the streets of these\nvermin, and to substitute as many honest industrious persons in their\nstead, who are now starving for want of bread, while these execrable\nvillains live, though in rags and nastiness, yet in plenty and luxury.\nI, therefore, humbly propose that these vagabonds be put immediately\nunder the command of such taskmasters as the government shall appoint,\nand that they be employed, punished, or rewarded, according to their\ncapacities and demerits; that is to say, the industrious and docible to\nwool-combing, and other parts of the woollen manufacture, where hands are\nwanted, as also to husbandry and other parts of agriculture.\nFor it is evident that there are scarce hands enow in the country to\ncarry on either of these affairs.  Now, these vagabonds might not only by\nthis means be kept out of harm's way, but be rendered serviceable to the\nnation.  Nor is there any need of transporting them beyond seas, for if\nany are refractory they should be sent to our stannaries and other mines,\nto our coal works and other places where hard labour is required.  And\nhere I must offer one thing never yet thought of, or proposed by any, and\nthat is, the keeping in due repair the navigation of the river Thames, so\nuseful to our trade in general; and yet of late years such vast hills of\nsand are gathered together in several parts of the river, as are very\nprejudicial to its navigation, one which is near London Bridge, another\nnear Whitehall, a third near Battersea, and a fourth near Fulham.  These\nare of very great hindrance to the navigation; and indeed the removal of\nthem ought to be a national concern, which I humbly propose may be thus\neffected.\nThe rebellious part of these vagabonds, as also other thieves and\noffenders, should be formed into bodies under the command of proper\nofficers, and under the guard and awe of our soldiery.  These should\nevery day at low water carry away these sandhills, and remove every other\nobstruction to the navigation of this most excellent and useful river.\nIt may be objected that the ballast men might do this; that as fast as\nthe hills are taken away they would gather together again, or that the\nwatermen might do it.  To the first, I answer, that ballast men, instead\nof taking away from these hills, make holes in other places of the river,\nwhich is the reason so many young persons are drowned when swimming or\nbathing in the river.\nBesides, it is a work for many hands, and of long continuance; so that\nballast men do more harm than good.  The second objection is as silly; as\nif I should never wash myself, because I shall be dirty again, and I\nthink needs no other answer.  And as to the third objection, the watermen\nare not so public-spirited, they live only from hand to mouth, though not\none of them but finds the inconvenience of these hills, every day being\nobliged to go a great way round about for fear of running aground;\ninsomuch that in a few years the navigation of that part of the river\nwill be entirely obstructed.  Nevertheless, every one of these gentlemen-\nwatermen hopes it will last his time, and so they all cry, The devil take\nthe hindmost.  But yet I judge it highly necessary that this be made a\nnational concern, like Dagenham breach, and that these hills be removed\nby some means or other.\nAnd now I have mentioned watermen, give me leave to complain of the\ninsolences and exactions they daily commit on the river Thames, and in\nparticular this one instance, which cries aloud for justice.\nA young lady of distinction, in company with her brother, a little youth,\ntook a pair of oars at or near the Temple, on April day last, and ordered\nthe men to carry them to Pepper Alley Stairs.  One of the fellows,\naccording to their usual impertinence, asked the lady where she was\ngoing?  She answered, near St. Olave's church.  Upon which he said, she\nhad better go through the bridge.  The lady replied she had never gone\nthrough the bridge in her life, nor would she venture for a hundred\nguineas; so commanded him once more to land her at Pepper Alley Stairs.\nNotwithstanding which, in spite of her fears, threats, and commands; nay,\nin spite of the persuasion of his fellow, he forced her through London\nBridge, which frightened her beyond expression.  And to mend the matter,\nhe obliged her to pay double fare, and mobbed her into the bargain.\nTo resent which abuse, application was made to the hall, the fellow\nsummoned, and the lady ordered to attend, which she did, waiting there\nall the morning, and was appointed to call again in the afternoon.  She\ncame accordingly, they told her the fellow had been there, but was gone,\nand that she must attend another Friday.  She attended again and again,\nbut to the same purpose.  Nor have they yet produced the man, but tired\nout the lady, who has spent above ten shillings in coach-hire, been\nabused and baffled into the bargain.\nIt is pity, therefore, there are not commissioners for watermen, as there\nare for hackney coachmen; or that justices of the peace might not inflict\nbodily penalties on watermen thus offending.  But while watermen are\nwatermen's judges, I shall laugh at those who carry their complaints to\nthe hall.\nThe usual plea in behalf of abusive watermen is, that they are drunk,\nignorant, or poor; but will that satisfy the party aggrieved, or deter\nthe offender from reoffending?  Whereas were the offenders sent to the\nhouse of correction, and there punished, or sentenced to work at the\nsandhills aforementioned, for a time suitable to the nature of their\ncrimes, terror of such punishments would make them fearful of offending,\nto the great quiet of the subject.\nNow, it maybe asked, How shall we have our shoes cleaned, or how are\nthese industrious poor to be maintained?  To this I answer that the\nplaces of these vagabonds may be very well supplied by great numbers of\nancient persons, poor widows, and others, who have not enough from their\nrespective parishes to maintain them.  These poor people I would have\nauthorised and stationed by the justices of the peace or other\nmagistrates.  Each of these should have a particular walk or stand, and\nno other shoe-cleaner should come into that walk, unless the person\nmisbehave and be removed.  Nor should any person clean shoes in the\nstreets, but these authorised shoe-cleaners, who should have some mark of\ndistinction, and be under the immediate government of the justices of the\npeace.\nThus would many thousands of poor people be provided for, without\nburthening their parishes.  Some of these may earn a shilling or two in\nthe day, and none less than sixpence, or thereabouts.  And lest the old\njapanners should appear again, in the shape of linkboys, and knock down\ngentlemen in drink, or lead others out of the way into dark remote\nplaces, where they either put out their lights, and rob them themselves,\nor run away and leave them to be pillaged by others, as is daily\npractised, I would have no person carry a link for hire but some of these\nindustrious poor, and even such, not without some ticket or badge, to let\npeople know whom they trust.  Thus would the streets be cleared night and\nday of these vermin; nor would oaths, skirmishes, blasphemy, obscene\ntalk, or other wicked examples, be so public and frequent.  All gaming at\norange and gingerbread barrows should be abolished, as also all penny and\nhalfpenny lotteries, thimbles and balls, &c., so frequent in Moorfields,\nLincoln's-inn-fields, &c., where idle fellows resort, to play with\nchildren and apprentices, and tempt them to steal their parents' or\nmaster's money.\nThere is one admirable custom in the city of London, which I could wish\nwere imitated in the city and liberties of Westminster, and bills of\nmortality, which is, no porter can carry a burthen or letter in the city,\nunless he be a ticket porter; whereas, out of the freedom part of London,\nany person may take a knot and turn porter, till he be entrusted with\nsomething of value, and then you never hear of him more.\nThis is very common, and ought to be amended.  I would, therefore, have\nall porters under some such regulation as coachmen, chairmen, carmen,\n&c.; a man may then know whom he entrusts, and not run the risk of losing\nhis goods, &c.  Nay, I would not have a person carry a basket in the\nmarkets, who is not subject to some such regulation; for very many\npersons oftentimes lose their dinners in sending their meat home by\npersons they know nothing of.\nThus would all our poor be stationed, and a man or woman able to perform\nany of these offices, must either comply or be termed an idle vagrant,\nand sent to a place where they shall be forced to work.  By this means\nindustry will be encouraged, idleness punished, and we shall be famed, as\nwell as happy for our tranquillity and decorum.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Everybody's Business Is Nobody's Business\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Steven Gibbs, Linda Cantoni, and the Online\n[Transcriber's Note: This satire in verse by Daniel Defoe (c.\n1659-1731) was first published in 1701 under the title, _The True-Born\nEnglishman. A Satyr_, and went through numerous editions in Defoe's\nlifetime. This e-book was prepared from _The Novels and Miscellaneous\nWorks of Daniel De Foe_, Volume 5 (London: Henry G. Bohn, 1855), in\nwhich the spelling, punctuation, and capitalization have apparently\nbeen modernized. Obvious printer errors have been corrected. A table\nof contents has been added for the reader's convenience.]\nTHE\nTRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN:\nA\nSATIRE.\nStatuimus pacem, et securitatem et concordiam judicum et justiciam\ninter Anglos et Normannos, Francos et Britanes, Walli\u00e6, et Cornubi\u00e6,\nPictos et Scotos, Albani\u00e6, similiter inter Francos et insulanos\nprovincias et patrias, qu\u00e6 pertinent ad coronam nostram, et inter\nomnes nobis subjectos firmiter et inviolabiliter observare.\nCharta Regis Gullielmi Conquisitoris de Pacis Publica, cap. i.\nCONTENTS\nAN EXPLANATORY PREFACE.\nPREFACE.\nTHE INTRODUCTION.\nTHE TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN.\nPART I.\nPART II.\nBRITANNIA.\nHIS FINE SPEECH, &c.\nTHE CONCLUSION.\nAN\nEXPLANATORY PREFACE.\nIt is not that I see any reason to alter my opinion in any thing I\nhave writ, which occasions this epistle; but I find it necessary for\nthe satisfaction of some persons of honour, as well as wit, to pass a\nshort explication upon it; and tell the world what I mean, or rather,\nwhat I do not mean, in some things wherein I find I am liable to be\nmisunderstood.\nI confess myself something surpris'd to hear that I am taxed with\nbewraying my own nest, and abusing our nation, by discovering the\nmeanness of our original, in order to make the English contemptible\nabroad and at home; in which, I think, they are mistaken: for why\nshould not our neighbours be as good as we to derive from? And I must\nadd, that had we been an unmix'd nation, I am of opinion it had been\nto our disadvantage: for to go no farther, we have three nations about\nus as clear from mixtures of blood as any in the world, and I know not\nwhich of them I could wish ourselves to be like; I mean the Scots, the\nWelsh, and the Irish; and if I were to write a reverse to the Satire,\nI would examine all the nations of Europe, and prove, that those\nnations which are most mix'd, are the best, and have least of\nbarbarism and brutality among them; and abundance of reasons might be\ngiven for it, too long to bring into a Preface.\nBut I give this hint, to let the world know, that I am far from\nthinking, 'tis a Satire upon the English nation, to tell them, they\nare derived from all the nations under heaven; that is, from several\nnations. Nor is it meant to undervalue the original of the English,\nfor we see no reason to like them worse, being the relicts of Romans,\nDanes, Saxons and Normans, than we should have done if they had\nremain'd Britons, that is, than if they had been all Welshmen.\nBut the intent of the Satire is pointed at the vanity of those who\ntalk of their antiquity, and value themselves upon their pedigree,\ntheir ancient families, and being true-born; whereas 'tis impossible\nwe should be true-born: and if we could, should have lost by the\nbargain.\nThese sort of people, who call themselves true-born, and tell long\nstories of their families, and like a nobleman of Venice, think a\nforeigner ought not to walk on the same side of the street with them,\nare own'd to be meant in this Satire. What they would infer from their\nlong original, I know not, nor is it easy to make out whether they are\nthe better or the worse for their ancestors: our English nation may\nvalue themselves for their wit, wealth and courage, and I believe few\nnations will dispute it with them; but for long originals, and ancient\ntrue-born families of English, I would advise them to wave the\ndiscourse. A true Englishman is one that deserves a character, and I\nhave nowhere lessened him, that I know of; but as for a true-born\nEnglishman, I confess I do not understand him.\nFrom hence I only infer, that an Englishman, of all men, ought not to\ndespise foreigners as such, and I think the inference is just, since\nwhat they are to-day, we were yesterday, and to-morrow they will be\nlike us. If foreigners misbehave in their several stations and\nemployments, I have nothing to do with that; the laws are open to\npunish them equally with natives, and let them have no favour.\nBut when I see the town full of lampoons and invectives against\nDutchmen, only because they are foreigners, and the king reproached\nand insulted by insolent pedants, and ballad-making poets, for\nemploying foreigners, and for being a foreigner himself, I confess\nmyself moved by it to remind our nation of their own original, thereby\nto let them see what a banter is put upon ourselves in it; since\nspeaking of Englishmen _ab origine_, we are really all foreigners\nourselves.\nI could go on to prove it is also impolitic in us to discourage\nforeigners; since it is easy to make it appear that the multitudes of\nforeign nations who have taken sanctuary here, have been the greatest\nadditions to the wealth and strength of the nation; the essential\nwhereof is the number of its inhabitants; nor would this nation ever\nhave arrived to the degree of wealth and glory it now boasts of, if\nthe addition of foreign nations, both as to manufactures and arms,\nhad not been helpful to it. This is so plain, that he who is ignorant\nof it, is too dull to be talked with.\nThe Satire therefore I must allow to be just, till I am otherwise\nconvinced; because nothing can be more ridiculous than to hear our\npeople boast of that antiquity, which if it had been true, would have\nleft us in so much worse a condition than we are in now: whereas we\nought rather to boast among our neighbours, that we are part of\nthemselves, of the same original as they, but bettered by our climate,\nand like our language and manufactures, derived from them, and\nimproved by us to a perfection greater than they can pretend to.\nThis we might have valued ourselves upon without vanity; but to disown\nour descent from them, talk big of our ancient families, and long\noriginals, and stand at a distance from foreigners, like the\nenthusiast in religion, with a Stand off, I am more holy than thou:\nthis is a thing so ridiculous, in a nation derived from foreigners, as\nwe are, that I could not but attack them as I have done.\nAnd whereas I am threatened to be called to a public account for this\nfreedom; and the publisher of this has been newspapered into gaol\nalready for it; tho' I see nothing in it for which the government can\nbe displeased; yet if at the same time those people who with an\nunlimited arrogance in print, every day affront the king, prescribe\nthe parliament, and lampoon the government, may be either punished or\nrestrained, I am content to stand and fall by the public justice of my\nnative country, which I am not sensible I have anywhere injured.\nNor would I be misunderstood concerning the clergy; with whom, if I\nhave taken any license more than becomes a Satire, I question not but\nthose gentlemen, who are men of letters, are also men of so much\ncandor, as to allow me a loose at the crimes of the guilty, without\nthinking the whole profession lashed who are innocent. I profess to\nhave very mean thoughts of those gentlemen who have deserted their own\nprinciples, and exposed even their morals as well as loyality; but not\nat all to think it affects any but such as are concerned in the fact.\nNor would I be misrepresented as to the ingratitude of the English to\nthe king and his friends; as if I meant the English as a nation, are\nso. The contrary is so apparent, that I would hope it should not be\nsuggested of me: and, therefore when I have brought in Britannia\nspeaking of the king, I suppose her to be the representative or mouth\nof the nation, as a body. But if I say we are full of such who daily\naffront the king, and abuse his friends; who print scurrilous\npamphlets, virulent lampoons, and reproachful public banters, against\nboth the king's person and his government; I say nothing but what is\ntoo true; and that the Satire is directed at such, I freely own; and\ncannot say, but I should think it very hard to be censured for this\nSatire, while such remain unquestioned and tacitly approved. That I\ncan mean none but such, is plain from these few lines, page 453.\n[Transcriber's Note: This reference is to a page number in the 1855\nreprint edition.]\n     Ye heavens regard! Almighty Jove, look down,\n     And view thy injured monarch on the throne.\n     On their ungrateful heads due vengeance take,\n     Who sought his aid, and then his part forsake.\nIf I have fallen rudely upon our vices, I hope none but the vicious\nwill be angry. As for writing for interest, I disown it; I have\nneither place, nor pension, nor prospect; nor seek none, nor will have\nnone: if matter of fact justifies the truth of the crimes, the Satire\nis just. As to the poetic liberties, I hope the crime is pardonable; I\nam content to be stoned, provided none will attack me but the\ninnocent.\nIf my countrymen would take the hint, and grow better natured from my\nill-natured poem as some call it; I would say this of it, that though\nit is far from the best Satire that ever was wrote, it would do the\nmost good that ever Satire did.\nAnd yet I am ready to ask pardon of some gentlemen too; who though\nthey are Englishmen, have good nature enough to see themselves\nreproved, and can hear it. These are gentlemen in a true sense, that\ncan bare to be told of their _faux pas_, and not abuse the reprover.\nTo such I must say, this is no Satire; they are exceptions to the\ngeneral rule; and I value my performance from their generous\napprobation, more than I can from any opinion I have of its worth.\nThe hasty errors of my verse I made my excuse for before; and since\nthe time I have been upon it has been but little, and my leisure less,\nI have all along strove rather to make the thoughts explicit, than the\npoem correct. However, I have mended some faults in this edition, and\nthe rest must be placed to my account.\nAs to answers, banters, true English Billingsgate, I expect them till\nnobody will buy, and then the shop will be shut. Had I wrote it for\nthe gain of the press, I should have been concerned at its being\nprinted again, and again, by pirates, as they call them, and\nparagraph-men; but would they but do it justice, and print it true,\naccording to the copy, they are welcome to sell it for a penny, if\nthey please.\nThe pence, indeed, is the end of their works. I will engage if nobody\nwill buy, nobody will write: and not a patriot poet of them all, now\nwill in defence of his native country, which I have abused, they say,\nprint an answer to it, and give it about for God's sake.\nPREFACE.\nThe end of satire is reformation: and the author, though he doubt the\nwork of conversion is at a general stop, has put his hand in the\nplough. I expect a storm of ill language from the fury of the town.\nAnd especially from those whose English talent it is to rail: and,\nwithout being taken for a conjuror, I may venture to foretel, that I\nshall be cavilled at about my mean style, rough verse, and incorrect\nlanguage, things I indeed might have taken more care in. But the book\nis printed; and though I see some faults, it is too late to mend them.\nAnd this is all I think needful to say to them.\nPossibly somebody may take me for a Dutchman; in which they are\nmistaken: but I am one that would be glad to see Englishmen behave\nthemselves better to strangers, and to governors also, that one might\nnot be reproached in foreign countries for belonging to a nation that\nwants manners.\nI assure you, gentlemen, strangers use us better abroad; and we can\ngive no reason but our ill-nature for the contrary here.\nMethinks an Englishman who is so proud of being called a good fellow,\nshould be civil. And it cannot be denied, but we are, in many cases,\nand particularly to strangers, the most churlish people alive.\nAs to vices, who can dispute our intemperance, while an honest drunken\nfellow is a character in a man's praise? All our reformations are\nbanters, and will be so till our magistrates and gentry reform\nthemselves, by way of example; then, and not till then, they may be\nexpected to punish others without blushing.\nAs to our ingratitude, I desire to be understood of that particular\npeople, who pretending to be Protestants, have all along endeavoured\nto reduce the liberties and religion of this nation into the hands of\nKing James and his Popish powers: together with such who enjoy the\npeace and protection of the present government, and yet abuse and\naffront the king who procured it, and openly profess their uneasiness\nunder him: these, by whatsoever names or titles they are dignified or\ndistinguished, are the people aimed at; nor do I disown, but that it\nis so much the temper of an Englishman to abuse his benefactor, that I\ncould be glad to see it rectified.\nThey who think I have been guilty of any error, in exposing the crimes\nof my own countrymen to themselves, may, among many honest instances\nof the like nature, find the same thing in Mr. Cowley, in his\nimitation of the second Olympic Ode of Pindar; his words are these:--\n     But in this thankless world, the givers\n     Are envied even by the receivers.\n     'Tis now the cheap and frugal fashion,\n     Rather to hide than pay an obligation.\n     Nay, 'tis much worse than so;\n     It now an artifice doth grow,\n     Wrongs and outrages they do,\n     Lest men should think we owe.\nTHE INTRODUCTION.\nSpeak, Satire, for there's none can tell like thee,\nWhether 'tis folly, pride, or knavery,\nThat makes this discontented land appear\nLess happy now in times of peace, than war:\nWhy civil feuds disturb the nation more,\nThan all our bloody wars have done before.\n  Fools out of favour grudge at knaves in place,\nAnd men are always honest in disgrace:\nThe court preferments make men knaves in course:\nBut they which wou'd be in them wou'd be worse.\n'Tis not at foreigners that we repine,\nWou'd foreigners their perquisites resign:\nThe grand contention's plainly to be seen,\nTo get some men put out, and some put in.\nFor this our Senators make long harangues.\nAnd florid Ministers whet their polish'd tongues.\nStatesmen are always sick of one disease;\nAnd a good pension gives them present ease.\nThat's the specific makes them all content\nWith any King and any government.\nGood patriots at court abuses rail,\nAnd all the nation's grievances bewail:\nBut when the sov'reign balsam's once apply'd,\nThe zealot never fails to change his side;\nAnd when he must the golden key resign,\nThe railing spirit comes about again.\n  Who shall this bubbl'd nation disabuse,\nWhile they their own felicities refuse?\nWho at the wars have made such mighty pother,\nAnd now are falling out with one another:\nWith needless fears the jealous nations fill,\nAnd always have been sav'd against their will:\nWho fifty millions sterling have disburs'd\nTo be with peace, and too much plenty, curs'd;\nWho their old monarch eagerly undo,\nAnd yet uneasily obey the new.\nSearch, Satire, search; a deep incision make:\nThe poison's strong, the antidote's too weak.\n'Tis pointed truth must manage this dispute,\nAnd down-right English, Englishmen confute.\n  Whet thy just anger at the nation's pride;\nAnd with keen phrase repel the vicious tide,\nTo Englishmen their own beginnings show,\nAnd ask them, why they slight their neighbours so:\nGo back to elder times, and ages past,\nAnd nations into long oblivion cast;\nTo elder Britain's youthful days retire,\nAnd there for true-born Englishmen inquire,\nBritannia freely will disown the name,\nAnd hardly knows herself from whence they came;\nWonders that they of all men should pretend\nTo birth, and blood, and for a name contend.\nGo back to causes where our follies dwell,\nAnd fetch the dark original from hell:\nSpeak, Satire, for there's none like thee can tell.\nTHE\nTRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN.\nPART I.\nWherever God erects a house of prayer,\nThe Devil always builds a chapel there:\nAnd 'twill be found upon examination,\nThe latter has the largest congregation:\nFor ever since he first debauch'd the mind,\nHe made a perfect conquest of mankind.\nWith uniformity of service, he\nReigns with general aristocracy.\nNo non-conforming sects disturb his reign,\nFor of his yoke, there's very few complain.\nHe knows the genius and the inclination,\nAnd matches proper sins for ev'ry nation.\nHe needs no standing army government;\nHe always rules us by our own consent:\nHis laws are easy, and his gentle sway\nMakes it exceeding pleasant to obey.\nThe list of his vicegerents and commanders,\nOut-does your C\u00e6sars, or your Alexanders.\nThey never fail of his infernal aid,\nAnd he's as certain ne'er to be betray'd.\nThro' all the world they spread his vast command,\nAnd death's eternal empire is maintain'd.\nThey rule so politicly and so well,\nAs if they were Lords Justices of hell;\nDuly divided to debauch mankind,\nAnd plant infernal dictates in his mind.\n  Pride, the first peer, and president of hell,\nTo his share, Spain, the largest province fell.\nThe subtle Prince thought fittest to bestow\nOn these the golden mines of Mexico,\nWith all the silver mountains of Peru;\nWealth which in wise hands would the world undo;\nBecause he knew their genius was such,\nToo lazy and too haughty to be rich:\nSo proud a people, so above their fate,\nThat, if reduced to beg, they'll beg in state:\nLavish of money, to be counted brave,\nAnd proudly starve, because they scorn to save;\nNever was nation in the world before,\nSo very rich, and yet so very poor.\n  Lust chose the torrid zone of Italy,\nWhere blood ferments in rapes and sodomy:\nWhere swelling veins o'erflow with living streams,\nWith heat impregnate from Vesuvian flames;\nWhose flowing sulphur forms infernal lakes,\nAnd human body of the soil partakes.\nThere nature ever burns with hot desires,\nFann'd with luxuriant air from subterranean fires:\nHere undisturbed, in floods of scalding lust,\nTh' infernal king reigns with infernal gust.\n  Drunkenness, the darling favourite of hell,\nChose Germany to rule; and rules so well,\nNo subjects more obsequiously obey,\nNone please so well, or are so pleased as they;\nThe cunning artist manages so well,\nHe lets them bow to heav'n, and drink to hell.\nIf but to wine and him they homage pay,\nHe cares not to what deity they pray;\nWhat god they worship most, or in what way.\nWhether by Luther, Calvin, or by Rome,\nThey sail for heaven, by wine he steers them home.\n  Ungovern'd passion settled first in France,\nWhere mankind lives in haste, and thrives by chance;\nA dancing nation, fickle and untrue,\nHave oft undone themselves, and others too;\nPrompt the infernal dictates to obey,\nAnd in hell's favour none more great than they.\n  The pagan world he blindly leads away,\nAnd personally rules with arbitrary sway:\nThe mask thrown off, plain devil, his title stands;\nAnd what elsewhere he tempts, he there commands;\nThere, with full gust, th' ambition of his mind,\nGoverns, as he of old in heaven design'd:\nWorshipp'd as God, his Paynim altars smoke,\nImbrued with blood of those that him invoke.\n  The rest by deputies he rules so well,\nAnd plants the distant colonies of hell;\nBy them his secret power he firm maintains,\nAnd binds the world in his infernal chains.\n  By zeal the Irish, and the Russ by folly,\nFury the Dane, the Swede by melancholy;\nBy stupid ignorance, the Muscovite;\nThe Chinese, by a child of hell, call'd wit;\nWealth makes the Persian too effeminate;\nAnd poverty the Tartar desperate:\nThe Turks and Moors, by Mah'met he subdues;\nAnd God has given him leave to rule the Jews:\nRage rules the Portuguese, and fraud the Scotch;\nRevenge the Pole, and avarice the Dutch.\n  Satire, be kind, and draw a silent veil,\nThy native England's vices to conceal:\nOr, if that task's impossible to do,\nAt least be just, and show her virtues too;\nToo great the first, alas! the last too few.\n  England, unknown, as yet unpeopled lay,--\nHappy, had she remain'd so to this day,\nAnd still to ev'ry nation been a prey.\nHer open harbours, and her fertile plains,\nThe merchant's glory these, and those the swain's,\nTo ev'ry barbarous nation have betray'd her;\nWho conquer her as oft as they invade her,\nSo beauty, guarded out by Innocence,\nThat ruins her which should be her defence.\n  Ingratitude, a devil of black renown,\nPossess'd her very early for his own:\nAn ugly, surly, sullen, selfish spirit,\nWho Satan's worst perfections does inherit;\nSecond to him in malice and in force,\nAll devil without, and all within him worse.\n  He made her first-born race to be so rude,\nAnd suffer'd her to be so oft subdued;\nBy sev'ral crowds of wandering thieves o'er-run,\nOften unpeopled, and as oft undone;\nWhile ev'ry nation that her powers reduced,\nTheir languages and manners introduced;\nFrom whose mix'd relics our compounded breed,\nBy spurious generation does succeed;\nMaking a race uncertain and uneven,\nDerived from all the nations under heaven.\n  The Romans first with Julius C\u00e6sar came,\nIncluding all the nations of that name,\nGauls, Greek, and Lombards; and, by computation,\nAuxiliaries or slaves of ev'ry nation.\nWith Hengist, Saxons; Danes with Sweno came,\nIn search of plunder, not in search of fame.\nScots, Picts, and Irish from th' Hibernian shore;\nAnd conq'ring William brought the Normans o'er.\n  All these their barb'rous offspring left behind,\nThe dregs of armies, they of all mankind;\nBlended with Britons, who before were here,\nOf whom the Welch ha' blest the character.\n  From this amphibious, ill-born mob began,\nThat vain ill-natured thing, an Englishman.\nThe customs, sirnames, languages, and manners,\nOf all these nations, are their own explainers;\nWhose relics are so lasting and so strong,\nThey've left a Shiboleth upon our tongue;\nBy which, with easy search, you may distinguish\nYour Roman, Saxon, Danish, Norman, English.\n  The great invading Norman let us know\nWhat conquerors in after-times might do.\nTo every musqueteer he brought to town,\nHe gave the lands which never were his own;\nWhen first the English crown he did obtain,\nHe did not send his Dutchmen home again.\nNo re-assumptions in his reign were known,\nDavenant might there ha' let his book alone.\nNo parliament his army could disband;\nHe raised no money, for he paid in land.\nHe gave his legions their eternal station,\nAnd made them all freeholders of the nation.\nHe canton'd out the country to his men,\nAnd every soldier was a denizen.\nThe rascals thus enrich'd, he called them lords,\nTo please their upstart pride with new-made words,\nAnd doomsday book his tyranny records.\n  And here begins the ancient pedigree\nThat so exalts our poor nobility.\n'Tis that from some French trooper they derive,\nWho with the Norman bastard did arrive:\nThe trophies of the families appear;\nSome show the sword, the bow, and some the spear,\nWhich their great ancestor, forsooth, did wear.\nThese in the herald's register remain,\nTheir noble mean extraction to explain,\nYet who the hero was no man can tell,\nWhether a drummer or a colonel:\nThe silent record blushes to reveal\nTheir undescended dark original.\n  But grant the best. How came the change to pass;\nA true-born Englishman of Norman race?\nA Turkish horse can show more history,\nTo prove his well-descended family.\nConquest, as by the moderns 'tis express'd,\nMay give a title to the lands possess'd;\nBut that the longest sword should be so civil,\nTo make a Frenchman English, that's the devil.\n  These are the heroes that despise the Dutch,\nAnd rail at new-come foreigners so much;\nForgetting that themselves are all derived\nFrom the most scoundrel race that ever lived;\nA horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones\nWho ransack'd kingdoms, and dispeopled towns;\nThe Pict and painted Briton, treach'rous Scot,\nBy hunger, theft, and rapine, hither brought;\nNorwegian pirates, buccaneering Danes,\nWhose red-hair'd offspring everywhere remains;\nWho, join'd with Norman French, compound the breed\nFrom whence your true-born Englishmen proceed.\n  And lest, by length of time, it be pretended,\nThe climate may this modern breed have mended;\nWise Providence, to keep us where we are,\nMixes us daily with exceeding care;\nWe have been Europe's sink, the jakes, where she\nVoids all her offal out-cast progeny;\nFrom our fifth Henry's time the strolling bands,\nOf banish'd fugitives from neighb'ring lands,\nHave here a certain sanctuary found:\nThe eternal refuge of the vagabond,\nWhere in but half a common age of time,\nBorrowing new blood and manners from the clime,\nProudly they learn all mankind to contemn,\nAnd all their race are true-born Englishmen.\n  Dutch Walloons, Flemmings, Irishmen, and Scots,\nVaudois, and Valtolins, and Hugonots,\nIn good Queen Bess's charitable reign,\nSupplied us with three hundred thousand men:\nReligion--God, we thank thee!--sent them hither,\nPriests, Protestants, the devil, and all together;\nOf all professions, and of ev'ry trade,\nAll that were persecuted or afraid:\nWhether for debt, or other crimes, they fled,\nDavid at Hackelah was still their head.\n  The offspring of this miscellaneous crowd,\nHad not their new plantations long enjoy'd,\nBut they grew Englishmen, and raised their votes,\nAt foreign shoals of interloping Scots;\nThe royal branch from Pict-land did succeed,\nWith troops of Scots and scabs from north of Tweed;\nThe seven first years of his pacific reign,\nMade him and half his nation Englishmen.\nScots from the northern frozen banks of Tay,\nWith packs and plods came whigging all away,\nThick as the locusts which in Egypt swarm'd,\nWith pride and hungry hopes completely arm'd;\nWith native truth, diseases, and no money,\nPlunder'd our Canaan of the milk and honey;\nHere they grew quickly lords and gentlemen,\nAnd all their race are true-born Englishmen.\n  The civil wars, the common purgative,\nWhich always use to make the nation thrive,\nMade way for all that strolling congregation,\nWhich throng'd in pious Charles's restoration.\nThe royal refugee our breed restores,\nWith foreign courtiers, and with foreign whores:\nAnd carefully re-peopled us again,\nThroughout his lazy, long, lascivious reign,\nWith such a blest and true-born English fry,\nAs much illustrates our nobility.\nA gratitude which will so black appear,\nAs future ages must abhor to bear:\nWhen they look back on all that crimson flood,\nWhich stream'd in Lindsey's, and Caernarvon's blood;\nBold Strafford, Cambridge, Capel, Lucas, Lisle,\nWho crown'd in death his father's fun'ral pile.\nThe loss of whom, in order to supply\nWith true-born English nobility,\nSix bastard dukes survive his luscious reign,\nThe labours of Italian Castlemain,\nFrench Portsmouth, Tabby Scott, and Cambrian;\nBesides the num'rous bright and virgin throng,\nWhose female glories shade them from my song.\nThis offspring if our age they multiply,\nMay half the house with English peers supply:\nThere with true English pride they may contemn\nSchomberg and Portland, new-made noblemen.\n  French cooks, Scotch pedlars, and Italian whores,\nWere all made lords or lords' progenitors.\nBeggars and bastards by this new creation\nMuch multiplied the peerage of the nation;\nWho will be all, ere one short age runs o'er,\nAs true-born lords as those we had before.\n  Then to recruit the commons he prepares,\nAnd heal the latent breaches of the wars;\nThe pious purpose better to advance,\nHe invites the banish'd Protestants of France;\nHither for God's sake, and their own, they fled\nSome for religion came, and some for bread:\nTwo hundred thousand pair of wooden shoes,\nWho, God be thank'd, had nothing left to lose;\nTo heaven's great praise did for religion fly,\nTo make us starve our poor in charity.\nIn ev'ry port they plant their fruitful train,\nTo get a race of true-born Englishmen;\nWhose children will, when riper years they see,\nBe as ill-natured, and as proud as we;\nCall themselves English, foreigners despise,\nBe surly like us all, and just as wise.\n  Thus from a mixture of all kinds began,\nThat heterogeneous thing, an Englishman:\nIn eager rapes, and furious lust begot,\nBetwixt a painted Briton and a Scot:\nWhose gend'ring offspring quickly learn'd to bow,\nAnd yoke their heifers to the Roman plough;\nFrom whence a mongrel half-bred race there came,\nWith neither name nor nation, speech or fame,\nIn whose hot veins new mixtures quickly ran,\nInfused betwixt a Saxon and a Dane;\nWhile their rank daughters, to their parents just,\nReceived all nations with promiscuous lust.\nThis nauseous brood directly did contain\nThe well-extracted blood of Englishmen.\n  Which medley, canton'd in a heptarchy,\nA rhapsody of nations to supply,\nAmong themselves maintain'd eternal wars,\nAnd still the ladies loved the conquerors.\n  The Western Angles all the rest subdued,\nA bloody nation, barbarous and rude;\nWho by the tenure of the sword possess'd\nOne part of Britain, and subdued the rest:\nAnd as great things denominate the small,\nThe conquering part gave title to the whole;\nThe Scot, Pict, Briton, Roman, Dane, submit,\nAnd with the English Saxon all unite:\nAnd these the mixture have so close pursued,\nThe very name and memory's subdued;\nNo Roman now, no Briton does remain;\nWales strove to separate, but strove in vain:\nThe silent nations undistinguish'd fall,\nAnd Englishman's the common name for all.\nFate jumbled them together, God knows how;\nWhate'er they were, they're true-born English now.\n  The wonder which remains is at our pride,\nTo value that which all wise men deride;\nFor Englishmen to boast of generation\nCancels their knowledge, and lampoons the nation,\nA true-born Englishman's a contradiction,\nIn speech an irony, in fact a fiction:\nA banter made to be a test of fools,\nWhich those that use it justly ridicules;\nA metaphor intended to express,\nA man a-kin to all the universe.\n  For as the Scots, as learned men have said,\nThroughout the world their wand'ring seed have spread,\nSo open-handed England, 'tis believed,\nHas all the gleanings of the world received.\n  Some think of England, 'twas our Saviour meant,\nThe Gospel should to all the world be sent:\nSince when the blessed sound did hither reach,\nThey to all nations might be said to preach.\n  'Tis well that virtue gives nobility,\nElse God knows where had we our gentry,\nSince scarce one family is left alive,\nWhich does not from some foreigner derive.\nOf sixty thousand English gentlemen,\nWhose names and arms in registers remain,\nWe challenge all our heralds to declare\nTen families which English Saxons are.\n  France justly boasts the ancient noble line\nOf Bourbon, Montmorency, and Lorraine.\nThe Germans too, their house of Austria show,\nAnd Holland, their invincible Nassau.\nLines which in heraldry were ancient grown,\nBefore the name of Englishman was known.\nEven Scotland, too, her elder glory shows,\nHer Gordons, Hamiltons, and her Monro's;\nDouglas', Mackays, and Grahams, names well known,\nLong before ancient England knew her own.\n  But England, modern to the last degree,\nBorrows or makes her own nobility,\nAnd yet she boldly boasts of pedigree;\nRepines that foreigners are put upon her,\nAnd talks of her antiquity and honour:\nHer Sackvills, Savils, Cecils, Delamers,\nMohuns, Montagues, Duras, and Veeres,\nNot one have English names, yet all are English peers.\nYour Houblons, Papillons, and Lethuliers,\nPass now for true-born English knights and squires,\nAnd make good senate-members, or lord-mayors.\nWealth, howsoever got, in England makes\nLords of mechanics, gentlemen of rakes.\nAntiquity and birth are needless here;\n'Tis impudence and money makes a peer.\n  Innumerable city knights we know,\nFrom Blue-coat Hospitals, and Bridewell flow.\nDraymen and porters fill the city chair,\nAnd foot-boys magisterial purple wear.\nFate has but very small distinction set\nBetwixt the counter and the coronet.\nTarpaulin lords, pages of high renown,\nRise up by poor men's valour, not their own;\nGreat families of yesterday we show,\nAnd lords, whose parents were the Lord knows who.\nPART II.\nThe breed's described: now, Satire, if you can,\nTheir temper show, for manners make the man.\nFierce as the Briton, as the Roman brave,\nAnd less inclined to conquer than to save;\nEager to fight, and lavish of their blood,\nAnd equally of fear and forecast void.\nThe Pict has made them sour, the Dane morose,\nFalse from the Scot, and from the Norman worse.\nWhat honesty they have, the Saxon gave them,\nAnd that, now they grow old, begins to leave them.\nThe climate makes them terrible and bold:\nAnd English beef their courage does uphold:\nNo danger can their daring spirit dull,\nAlways provided when their belly's full.\n  In close intrigues, their faculty's but weak;\nFor, gen'rally, whate'er they know they speak.\nAnd often their own councils undermine\nBy their infirmity, and not design.\nFrom whence, the learned say, it does proceed,\nThat English treason never can succeed:\nFor they're so open-hearted, you may know\nTheir own most secret thoughts, and others too.\n  The lab'ring poor, in spite of double pay,\nAre saucy, mutinous, and beggarly;\nSo lavish of their money and their time,\nThat want of forecast is the nation's crime.\nGood drunken company is their delight;\nAnd what they get by day they spend by night.\nDull thinking seldom does their heads engage,\nBut drink their youth away, and hurry on old age.\nEmpty of all good husbandry and sense;\nAnd void of manners most when void of pence.\nTheir strong aversion to behaviour's such,\nThey always talk too little or too much.\nSo dull, they never take the pains to think;\nAnd seldom are good natured but in drink.\n  In English ale their dear enjoyment lies,\nFor which they starve themselves and families.\nAn Englishman will fairly drink as much,\nAs will maintain two families of Dutch:\nSubjecting all their labours to the pots;\nThe greatest artists are the greatest sots.\nThe country poor do by example live;\nThe gentry lead them, and the clergy drive;\nWhat may we not from such examples hope?\nThe landlord is their god, the priest their pope;\nA drunken clergy, and a swearing bench,\nHas given the reformation such a drench,\nAs wise men think, there is some cause to doubt,\nWill purge good manners and religion out.\n  Nor do the poor alone their liquor prize,\nThe sages join in this great sacrifice;\nThe learned men who study Aristotle,\nCorrect him with an explanation bottle:\nPraise Epicurus rather than Lysander,\nAnd Aristippus more than Alexander;\nThe doctors too their Galen here resign,\nAnd generally prescribe specific wine;\nThe graduate's study's grown an easy task,\nWhile for the urinal they toss the flask;\nThe surgeon's art grows plainer every hour,\nAnd wine's the balm which into wounds they pour.\n  Poets long since Parnassus have forsaken,\nAnd say the ancient bards were all mistaken.\nApollo's lately abdicate and fled,\nAnd good king Bacchus reigneth in his stead:\nHe does the chaos of the head refine,\nAnd atom thoughts jump into words by wine:\nThe inspiration's of a finer nature,\nAs wine must needs excel Parnassus water.\n  Statesmen their weighty politics refine,\nAnd soldiers raise their courages by wine.\nCecilia gives her choristers their choice,\nAnd lets them all drink wine to clear the voice.\n  Some think the clergy first found out the way,\nAnd wine's the only spirit by which they pray.\nBut others, less profane than so, agree,\nIt clears the lungs, and helps the memory:\nAnd, therefore, all of them divinely think,\nInstead of study, 'tis as well to drink.\n  And here I would be very glad to know,\nWhether our Asgilites may drink or no;\nThe enlightening fumes of wine would certainly\nAssist them much when they begin to fly;\nOr if a fiery chariot should appear,\nInflamed by wine, they'd have the less to fear.\n  Even the gods themselves, as mortals say,\nWere they on earth, would be as drunk as they:\nNectar would be no more celestial drink,\nThey'd all take wine, to teach them how to think.\nBut English drunkards, gods and men outdo,\nDrink their estates away, and senses too.\nColon's in debt, and if his friend should fail\nTo help him out, must die at last in jail:\nHis wealthy uncle sent a hundred nobles,\nTo pay his trifles off, and rid him of his troubles:\nBut Colon, like a true-born Englishman,\nDrunk all the money out in bright champaign,\nAnd Colon does in custody remain.\nDrunk'ness has been the darling of the realm,\nE'er since a drunken pilot had the helm.\n  In their religion, they're so uneven,\nThat each man goes his own byway to heaven.\nTenacious of mistakes to that degree,\nThat ev'ry man pursues it sep'rately,\nAnd fancies none can find the way but he:\nSo shy of one another they are grown,\nAs if they strove to get to heaven alone.\nRigid and zealous, positive and grave,\nAnd ev'ry grace, but charity, they have;\nThis makes them so ill-natured and uncivil,\nThat all men think an Englishman the devil.\n  Surly to strangers, froward to their friend,\nSubmit to love with a reluctant mind,\nResolved to be ungrateful and unkind.\nIf, by necessity, reduced to ask,\nThe giver has the difficultest task:\nFor what's bestow'd they awkwardly receive,\nAnd always take less freely than they give;\nThe obligation is their highest grief,\nThey never love where they accept relief;\nSo sullen in their sorrows, that 'tis known\nThey'll rather die than their afflictions own;\nAnd if relieved, it is too often true,\nThat they'll abuse their benefactors too;\nFor in distress their haughty stomach's such,\nThey hate to see themselves obliged too much;\nSeldom contented, often in the wrong,\nHard to be pleased at all, and never long.\n  If your mistakes there ill opinion gain,\nNo merit can their favour re-obtain:\nAnd if they're not vindictive in their fury,\n'Tis their inconstant temper does secure ye:\nTheir brain's so cool, their passion seldom burns;\nFor all's condensed before the flame returns:\nThe fermentation's of so weak a matter,\nThe humid damps the flame, and runs it all to water;\nSo though the inclination may be strong,\nThey're pleased by fits, and never angry long:\n  Then, if good-nature show some slender proof,\nThey never think they have reward enough;\nBut, like our modern Quakers of the town,\nExpect your manners, and return you none.\n  Friendship, th' abstracted union of the mind,\nWhich all men seek, but very few can find;\nOf all the nations in the universe,\nNone can talk on't more, or understand it less;\nFor if it does their property annoy,\nTheir property their friendship will destroy.\nAs you discourse them, you shall hear them tell\nAll things in which they think they do excel:\nNo panegyric needs their praise record,\nAn Englishman ne'er wants his own good word.\nHis first discourses gen'rally appear,\nPrologued with his own wond'rous character:\nWhen, to illustrate his own good name,\nHe never fails his neighbour to defame.\nAnd yet he really designs no wrong,\nHis malice goes no further than his tongue.\nBut, pleased to tattle, he delights to rail,\nTo satisfy the letch'ry of a tale.\nHis own dear praises close the ample speech,\nTells you how wise he is, that is, how rich:\nFor wealth is wisdom; he that's rich is wise;\nAnd all men learned poverty despise:\nHis generosity comes next, and then\nConcludes, that he's a true-born Englishman;\nAnd they, 'tis known, are generous and free,\nForgetting, and forgiving injury:\nWhich may be true, thus rightly understood,\nForgiving ill turns, and forgetting good.\n  Cheerful in labour when they've undertook it,\nBut out of humour, when they're out of pocket.\nBut if their belly and their pocket's full,\nThey may be phlegmatic, but never dull:\nAnd if a bottle does their brains refine,\nIt makes their wit as sparkling as their wine.\n  As for the general vices which we find,\nThey're guilty of in common with mankind,\nSatire forbear, and silently endure,\nWe must conceal the crimes we cannot cure;\nNor shall my verse the brighter sex defame,\nFor English beauty will preserve her name;\nBeyond dispute agreeable and fair,\nAnd modester than other nations are;\nFor where the vice prevails, the great temptation\nIs want of money more than inclination;\nIn general this only is allow'd,\nThey're something noisy, and a little proud.\n  An Englishman is gentlest in command,\nObedience is a stranger in the land:\nHardly subjected to the magistrate;\nFor Englishmen do all subjection hate.\nHumblest when rich, but peevish when they're poor,\nAnd think whate'er they have, they merit more.\n  The meanest English plowman studies law,\nAnd keeps thereby the magistrates in awe,\nWill boldly tell them what they ought to do,\nAnd sometimes punish their omissions too.\n  Their liberty and property's so dear,\nThey scorn their laws or governors to fear;\nSo bugbear'd with the name of slavery,\nThey can't submit to their own liberty.\nRestraint from ill is freedom to the wise!\nBut Englishmen do all restraint despise.\nSlaves to the liquor, drudges to the pots;\nThe mob are statesmen, and their statesmen sots.\n  Their governors, they count such dang'rous things,\nThat 'tis their custom to affront their kings:\nSo jealous of the power their kings possess'd,\nThey suffer neither power nor kings to rest.\nThe bad with force they eagerly subdue;\nThe good with constant clamours they pursue,\nAnd did King Jesus reign, they'd murmur too.\nA discontented nation, and by far\nHarder to rule in times of peace than war:\nEasily set together by the ears,\nAnd full of causeless jealousies and fears:\nApt to revolt, and willing to rebel,\nAnd never are contented when they're well.\nNo government could ever please them long,\nCould tie their hands, or rectify their tongue.\nIn this, to ancient Israel well compared,\nEternal murmurs are among them heard.\n  It was but lately, that they were oppress'd,\nTheir rights invaded, and their laws suppress'd:\nWhen nicely tender of their liberty,\nLord! what a noise they made of slavery.\nIn daily tumults show'd their discontent,\nLampoon'd their king, and mock'd his government.\nAnd if in arms they did not first appear,\n'Twas want of force, and not for want of fear.\nIn humbler tone than English used to do,\nAt foreign hands for foreign aid they sue.\n  William, the great successor of Nassau,\nTheir prayers heard, and their oppressions saw;\nHe saw and saved them: God and him they praised\nTo this their thanks, to that their trophies raised.\nBut glutted with their own felicities,\nThey soon their new deliverer despise;\nSay all their prayers back, their joy disown,\nUnsing their thanks, and pull their trophies down;\nTheir harps of praise are on the willows hung;\nFor Englishmen are ne'er contented long.\n  The reverend clergy too, and who'd ha' thought\nThat they who had such non-resistance taught,\nShould e'er to arms against their prince be brought\nWho up to heav'n did regal power advance;\nSubjecting English laws to modes of France\nTwisting religion so with loyalty,\nAs one could never live, and t'other die;\nAnd yet no sooner did their prince design\nTheir glebes and perquisites to undermine,\nBut all their passive doctrines laid aside,\nThe clergy their own principles denied;\nUnpreach'd their non-resisting cant, and pray'd\nTo heav'n for help, and to the Dutch for aid;\nThe church chimed all her doctrines back again,\nAnd pulpit-champions did the cause maintain;\nFlew in the face of all their former zeal,\nAnd non-resistance did at once repeal.\n  The Rabbi's say it would be too prolix,\nTo tie religion up to politics,\nThe churches' safety is _suprema lex_:\nAnd so by a new figure of their own,\nTheir former doctrines all at once disown;\nAs laws _post facto_ in the parliament,\nIn urgent cases have attained assent;\nBut are as dangerous precedents laid by,\nMade lawful only by necessity.\n  The rev'rend fathers then in arms appear,\nAnd men of God became the men of war:\nThe nation, fired by them, to arms apply,\nAssault their antichristian monarchy;\nTo their due channel all our laws restore,\nAnd made things what they should have been before.\nBut when they came to fill the vacant throne,\nAnd the pale priests look'd back on what they'd done,\nHow England liberty began to thrive,\nAnd Church of England loyality outlive;\nHow all their persecuting days were done,\nAnd their deliv'rer placed upon the throne:\nThe priests, as priests are wont to do, turn'd tail,\nThey're Englishmen, and nature will prevail;\nNow they deplore their ruins they have made,\nAnd murmur for the master they betray'd;\nExcuse those crimes they could not make him mend,\nAnd suffer for the cause they can't defend;\nPretend they'd not have carried things so high,\nAnd proto-martyrs make for popery.\n  Had the prince done as they design'd the thing,\nHigh set the clergy up to rule the king:\nTaken a donative for coming hither,\nAnd so have left their king and them together;\nWe had, say they, been now a happy nation;\nNo doubt we had seen a blessed reformation:\nFor wise men say 'tis as dangerous a thing,\nA ruling priesthood, as a priest-rid king;\nAnd of all plagues with which mankind are curst,\nEcclesiastic tyranny's the worst.\n  If all our former grievances were feign'd,\nKing James has been abused, and we trepann'd;\nBugbear'd with popery and power despotic,\nTyrannic government, and leagues exotic;\nThe revolution's a fanatic plot,\nWilliam's a tyrant, King James was not;\nA factious army and a poison'd nation,\nUnjustly forced King James's abdication.\n  But if he did the subjects' rights invade,\nThen he was punish'd only, not betrayed;\nAnd punishing of kings is no such crime,\nBut Englishmen have done it many a time.\n  When kings the sword of justice first lay down,\nThey are no kings, though they possess the crown.\nTitles are shadows, crowns are empty things,\nThe good of subjects is the end of kings;\nTo guide in war, and to protect in peace,\nWhere tyrants once commence the kings do cease;\nFor arbitrary power's so strange a thing,\nIt makes the tyrant and unmakes the king:\nIf kings by foreign priests and armies reign,\nAnd lawless power against their oaths maintain,\nThen subjects must have reason to complain:\nIf oaths must bind us when our kings do ill,\nTo call in foreign aid is to rebel:\nBy force to circumscribe our lawful prince,\nIs wilful treason in the largest sense:\nAnd they who once rebel, must certainly\nTheir God, and king, and former oaths defy;\nIf ye allow no mal-administration\nCould cancel the allegiance of the nation,\nLet all our learned sons of Levi try,\nThis ecclesiastic riddle to untie;\nHow they could make a step to call the prince,\nAnd yet pretend the oath and innocence.\n  By th' first address they made beyond the seas,\nThey're perjur'd in the most intense degrees;\nAnd without scruple for the time to come,\nMay swear to all the kings in Christendom:\nNay, truly did our kings consider all,\nThey'd never let the clergy swear at all,\nTheir politic allegiance they'd refuse,\nFor whores and priests do never want excuse.\n  But if the mutual contract was dissolved,\nThe doubt's explain'd, the difficulty solved;\nThat kings, when they descend to tyranny,\nDissolve the bond, and leave the subject free;\nThe government's ungirt when justice dies,\nAnd constitutions are nonentities.\nThe nation's all a mob, there's no such thing,\nAs lords, or commons, parliament, or king;\nA great promiscuous crowd the Hydra lies,\nTill laws revive and mutual contract ties;\nA chaos free to choose for their own share,\nWhat case of government they please to wear;\nIf to a king they do the reins commit,\nAll men are bound in conscience to submit;\nBut then the king must by his oath assent,\nTo _Postulata's_ of the government;\nWhich if he breaks he cuts off the entail,\nAnd power retreats to its original.\n  This doctrine has the sanction of assent\nFrom nature's universal Parliament:\nThe voice of nations, and the course of things,\nAllow that laws superior are to kings;\nNone but delinquents would have justice cease,\nKnaves rail at laws, as soldiers rail at peace:\nFor justice is the end of government,\nAs reason is the test of argument:\nNo man was ever yet so void of sense,\nAs to debate the right of self-defence;\nA principle so grafted in the mind,\nWith nature born, and does like nature bind;\nTwisted with reason, and with nature too,\nAs neither one nor t'other can undo.\n  Nor can this right be less when national,\nReason which governs one should govern all;\nWhate'er the dialect of courts may tell,\nHe that his right demands can ne'er rebel;\nWhich right, if 'tis by governors denied,\nMay be procured by force or foreign aid;\nFor tyranny's a nation's term of grief,\nAs folks cry fire to hasten in relief;\nAnd when the hated word is heard about,\nAll men should come to help the people out.\n  Thus England groan'd, Britannia's voice was heard,\nAnd great Nassau to rescue her appear'd:\nCall'd by the universal voice of fate,\nGod and the people's legal magistrate:\nYe heavens regard! Almighty Jove look down,\nAnd view thy injured monarch on the throne;\nOn their ungrateful heads due vengeance take\nWho sought his aid, and then his part forsake:\nWitness, ye powers! it was our call alone,\nWhich now our pride makes us ashamed to own;\nBritannia's troubles fetch'd him from afar,\nTo court the dreadful casualties of war;\nBut where requital never can be made,\nAcknowledgment's a tribute seldom paid.\n  He dwelt in bright Maria's circling arms,\nDefended by the magic of her charms,\nFrom foreign fears and from domestic harms;\nAmbition found no fuel for her fire,\nHe had what God could give or man desire,\nTill pity roused him from his soft repose,\nHis life to unseen hazards to expose;\nTill pity moved him in our cause to appear,\nPity! that word which now we hate to hear;\nBut English gratitude is always such,\nTo hate the hand that does oblige too much.\n  Britannia's cries gave birth to his intent,\nAnd hardly gain'd his unforeseen assent;\nHis boding thoughts foretold him he should find\nThe people fickle, selfish, and unkind;\nWhich thought did to his royal heart appear\nMore dreadful than the dangers of the war;\nFor nothing grates a generous mind so soon,\nAs base returns for hearty service done.\n  Satire, be silent! awfully prepare\nBritannia's song, and William's praise to hear;\nStand by, and let her cheerfully rehearse\nHer grateful vows in her immortal verse.\nLoud fame's eternal trumpet let her sound,\nListen, ye distant poles, and endless round,\nMay the strong blast the welcome news convey,\nAs far as sound can reach or spirit fly!\nTo neighb'ring worlds, if such there be, relate\nOur heroes fame for theirs to imitate;\nTo distant worlds of spirits let her rehearse,\nFor spirits without the helps of voice converse:\nMay angels hear the gladsome news on high,\nMix'd with their everlasting symphony;\nAnd hell itself stand in surprise to know,\nWhether it be the fatal blast or no.\nBRITANNIA.\n  The fame of virtue 'tis for which I sound,\nAnd heroes with immortal triumphs crown'd;\nFame built on solid virtue swifter flies,\nThan morning light can spread the eastern skies:\nThe gath'ring air returns the doubling sound;\nAnd loud repeating thunders force it round;\nEchoes return from caverns of the deep,\nOld Chaos dreams on't in eternal sleep:\nTime hands it forward to its latest urn,\nFrom whence it never, never shall return:\nNothing is heard so far, or lasts so long,\n'Tis heard by ev'ry ear, and spoke by every tongue.\n  My hero, with the sails of honour furl'd,\nRises like the great genius of the world;\nBy fate and fame wisely prepared to be\nThe soul of war and life of victory;\nHe spreads the wings of virtue on the throne,\nAnd ev'ry wind of glory fans them on;\nImmortal trophies dwell upon his brow,\nFresh as the garlands he has won but now.\n  By different steps the high ascent he gains,\nAnd differently that high ascent maintains:\nPrinces for pride and lust of rule make war,\nAnd struggle for the name of conqueror;\nSome fight for fame, and some for victory,\nHe fights to save, and conquers to set free.\n  Then seek no phrase his titles to conceal,\nAnd hide with words what actions must reveal;\nNo parallel from Hebrew stories take,\nOf godlike kings my similies to make;\nNo borrowed names conceal my living theme,\nBut names and things directly I proclaim;\nHis honest merit does his glory raise,\nWhom that exalts let no man fear to praise;\nOf such a subject no man need be shy,\nVirtue's above the reach of flattery;\nHe needs no character but his own fame,\nNor any flattering titles but his own name.\n  William's the name that's spoke by every tongue,\nWilliam's the darling subject of my song;\nListen, ye virgins, to the charming sound,\nAnd in eternal dances hand it round;\nYour early offerings to this altar bring,\nMake him at once a lover and a king;\nMay he submit to none but to your arms,\nNor ever be subdued, but by your charms;\nMay your soft thoughts for him be all sublime,\nAnd ev'ry tender vow be made for him;\nMay he be first in ev'ry morning thought,\nAnd heav'n ne'er hear a prayer where he's left out;\nMay every omen, every boding dream,\nBe fortunate by mentioning his name;\nMay this one charm infernal powers affright,\nAnd guard you from the terror of the night;\nMay ev'ry cheerful glass as it goes down\nTo William's health, be cordials to your own:\nLet ev'ry song be chorust with his name,\nAnd music pay her tribute to his fame;\nLet ev'ry poet tune his artful verse,\nAnd in immortal strains his deeds rehearse:\nAnd may Apollo never more inspire\nThe disobedient bard with his seraphic fire\nMay all my sons their grateful homage pay,\nHis praises sing, and for his safety pray.\n  Satire, return to our unthankful isle,\nSecured by heaven's regards, and William's toil:\nTo both ungrateful, and to both untrue,\nRebels to God, and to good nature too.\n  If e'er this nation be distress'd again,\nTo whomsoe'er they cry, they'll cry in vain;\nTo heav'n they cannot have the face to look,\nOr, if they should, it would but heav'n provoke;\nTo hope for help from man would be too much,\nMankind would always tell 'em of the Dutch:\nHow they came here our freedoms to maintain,\nWere paid, and cursed, and hurried home again;\nHow by their aid we first dissolved our fears,\nAnd then our helpers damn'd for foreigners:\n'Tis not our English temper to do better,\nFor Englishmen think ev'ry one their debtor.\n  'Tis worth observing, that we ne'er complain'd\nOf foreigners, nor of the wealth we gain'd,\nTill all their services were at an end:\nWise men affirm it is the English way,\nNever to grumble till they come to pay;\nAnd then they always think, their temper's such,\nThe work too little, and the pay too much.\n  As frighted patients, when they want a cure,\nBid any price, and any pain endure:\nBut when the doctor's remedies appear,\nThe cure's too easy, and the price too dear:\nGreat Portland near was banter'd when he strove,\nFor us his master's kindest thoughts to move:\nWe ne'er lampoon'd his conduct, when employ'd\nKing James's secret councils to divide:\nThen we caress'd him as the only man,\nWho could the doubtful oracle explain;\nThe only Hushai, able to repel\nThe dark designs of our Achitophel:\nCompared his master's courage to his sense,\nThe ablest statesman, and the bravest prince;\nOn his wise conduct we depended much,\nAnd liked him ne'er the worse for being Dutch:\nNor was he valued more than he deserved,\nFreely he ventured, faithfully he served;\nIn all King William's dangers he has shared,\nIn England's quarrels always he appear'd:\nThe revolution first, and then the Boyne,\nIn both, his counsels and his conduct shine;\nHis martial valour Flanders will confess,\nAnd France regrets his managing the peace;\nFaithful to England's interest and her king,\nThe greatest reason of our murmuring:\nTen years in English service he appear'd,\nAnd gain'd his master's and the world's regard;\nBut 'tis not England's custom to reward,\nThe wars are over, England needs him not;\nNow he's a Dutchman, and the Lord knows what.\n  Schonbergh, the ablest soldier of his age,\nWith great Nassau did in our cause engage;\nBoth join'd for England's rescue and defence,\nThe greatest captain and the greatest prince;\nWith what applause his stories did we tell,\nStories which Europe's volumes largely swell!\nWe counted him an army in our aid,\nWhere he commanded, no man was afraid;\nHis actions with a constant conquest shine,\nFrom Villa Vitiosa to the Rhine;\nFrance, Flanders, Germany, his fame confess,\nAnd all the world was fond of him but us:\nOur turn first served, we grudged him the command,\nWitness the grateful temper of the land.\n   We blame the King, that he relies too much,\nOn Strangers, Germans, Hugonots, and Dutch;\nAnd seldom does his great affairs of state,\nTo English counsellors communicate:\nThe fact might very well be answer'd thus:\nHe had so often been betray'd by us,\nHe must have been a madman to rely,\nOn English gentlemen's fidelity;\nFor, laying other argument aside:\nThis thought might mortify our English pride;\nThat foreigners have faithfully obey'd him,\nAnd none but Englishmen have e'er betray'd him:\nThey have our ships and merchants bought and sold,\nAnd barter'd English blood for foreign gold;\nFirst to the French they sold our Turkey fleet,\nAnd injured Talmarsh next at Cameret;\nThe king himself is shelter'd from their snares,\nNot by his merits, but the crown he wears;\nExperience tells us 'tis the English way,\nTheir benefactors always to betray.\n   And, lest examples should be too remote,\nA modern magistrate of famous note,\nShall give you his own history by rote;\nI'll make it out, deny it he that can,\nHis worship is a true-born Englishman;\nBy all the latitude that empty word,\nBy modern acceptation's understood:\nThe parish books his great descent record,\nAnd now he hopes ere long to be a lord;\nAnd truly, as things go, it would be pity,\nBut such as he bore office in the city;\nWhile robb'ry for burnt-offering he brings,\nAnd gives to God what he has stole from kings;\nGreat monuments of charity he raises,\nAnd good St. Magnus whistles out his praises;\nTo city jails he grants a jubilee,\nAnd hires huzza's from his own mobile.\n  Lately he wore the golden chain and gown,\nWith which equipp'd he thus harangued the town.\nHIS FINE SPEECH, &c.\n  With clouted iron shoes, and sheep-skin breeches,\nMore rags than manners, and more dirt than riches,\nFrom driving cows and calves to Leyton market,\nWhile of my greatness there appear'd no spark yet,\nBehold I come to let you see the pride,\nWith which exalted beggars always ride.\n   Born to the needful labours of the plough,\nThe cart-whip graced me, as the chain does now.\nNature and fate in doubt what course to take,\nWhether I should a lord or plough-boy make;\nKindly at last resolv'd they would promote me,\nAnd first a knave, and then a knight they vote me.\nWhat fate appointed, nature did prepare,\nAnd furnish'd me with an exceeding care,\nTo fit me for what they design'd to have me;\nAnd every gift but honesty they gave me.\n  And thus equipp'd, to this proud town I came,\nIn quest of bread, and not in quest of fame.\nBlind to my future fate, an humble boy,\nFree from the guilt and glory I enjoy.\nThe hopes which my ambition entertain'd,\nWhere in the name of foot-boy, all contain'd.\nThe greatest heights from small beginnings rise;\nThe gods were great on earth, before they reach'd the skies.\n  Backwell, the generous temper of whose mind,\nWas always to be bountiful inclin'd:\nWhether by his ill fate or fancy led,\nFirst took me up, and furnish'd me with bread:\nThe little services he put me to,\nSeem'd labours, rather than were truly so.\nBut always my advancement he design'd;\nFor 'twas his very nature to be kind:\nLarge was his soul, his temper ever free;\nThe best of masters and of men to me:\nAnd I who was before decreed by fate,\nTo be made infamous as well as great,\nWith an obsequious diligence obey'd him,\nTill trusted with his all, and then betray'd him.\n  All his past kindnesses I trampled on,\nRuin'd his fortunes to erect my own:\nSo vipers in the bosom bred begin,\nTo hiss at that hand first which took them in;\nWith eager treach'ry I his fall pursu'd,\nAnd my first trophies were ingratitude.\n  Ingratitude's the worst of human guilt,\nThe basest action mankind can commit;\nWhich, like the sin against the Holy Ghost,\nHas least of honour, and of guilt the most;\nDistinguished from all other crimes by this,\nThat 'tis a crime which no man will confess;\nThat sin alone, which should not be forgiv'n\nOn earth, altho' perhaps it may in heaven.\n  Thus my first benefactor I o'erthrew;\nAnd how shou'd I be to a second true?\nThe public trust came next into my care,\nAnd I to use them scurvily prepare:\nMy needy sov'reign lord I play'd upon,\nAnd lent him many a thousand of his own;\nFor which great interest I took care to charge,\nAnd so my ill-got wealth became so large.\n  My predecessor Judas was a fool,\nFitter to have been whipt and sent to school,\nThan sell a Saviour: had I been at hand,\nHis Master had not been so cheap trepann'd;\nI would have made the eager Jews have found,\nFor thirty pieces, thirty thousand pound.\n  My cousin Ziba, of immortal fame,\n(Ziba and I shall never want a name:)\nFirst-born of treason, nobly did advance\nHis Master's fall, for his inheritance:\nBy whose keen arts old David first began\nTo break his sacred oath to Jonathan:\nThe good old king 'tis thought was very loth\nTo break his word, and therefore broke his oath.\nZiba's a traitor of some quality,\nYet Ziba might have been inform'd by me:\nHad I been there, he ne'er had been content\nWith half th' estate, nor half the government.\n  In our late revolution 'twas thought strange,\nThat I of all mankind should like the change,\nBut they who wonder'd at it never knew,\nThat in it I did my old game pursue:\nNor had they heard of twenty thousand pound,\nWhich ne'er was lost, yet never could be found.\n  Thus all things in their turn to sale I bring,\nGod and my master first, and then the king;\nTill by successful villanies made bold,\nI thought to turn the nation into gold;\nAnd so to forgery my hand I bent,\nNot doubting I could gull the Government;\nBut there was ruffl'd by the Parliament.\nAnd if I 'scaped th' unhappy tree to climb,\n'Twas want of law, and not for want of crime;\n  But my old friend,[A] who printed in my face\nA needful competence of English brass;\nHaving more business yet for me to do,\nAnd loth to lose his trusty servant so,\nManaged the matter with such art and skill,\nAs sav'd his hero, and threw out the Bill.\n  And now I'm grac'd with unexpected honours,\nFor which I'll certainly abuse the donors:\nKnighted, and made a tribune of the people,\nWhose laws and properties I'm like to keep well:\nThe custos rotulorum of the city,\nAnd captain of the guards of their banditti.\nSurrounded by my catchpoles, I declare\nAgainst the needy debtor open war.\nI hang poor thieves for stealing of your pelf,\nAnd suffer none to rob you, but myself.\n  The king commanded me to help reform ye,\nAnd how I'll do't, Miss ---- shall inform ye.\nI keep the best seraglio in the nation,\nAnd hope in time to bring it into fashion;\nNo brimstone whore need fear the lash from me,\nThat part I'll leave to Brother Jefferey:\nOur gallants need not go abroad to Rome,\nI'll keep a whoring jubilee at home;\nWhoring's the darling of my inclination;\nAn't I a magistrate for reformation?\nFor this my praise is sung by ev'ry bard,\nFor which Bridewell wou'd be a just reward.\nIn print my panegyric fills the street,\nAnd hired gaol-birds their huzzas repeat;\nSome charities contriv'd to make a show,\nHave taught the needy rabble to do so;\nWhose empty noise is a mechanic fame,\nSince for Sir Beelzebub they'd do the same.\n[Footnote A: The Devil.]\nTHE CONCLUSION.\n  Then let us boast of ancestors no more,\nOr deeds of heroes done in days of yore,\nIn latent records of the ages past,\nBehind the rear of time, in long oblivion plac'd;\nFor if our virtues must in lines descend,\nThe merit with the families would end,\nAnd intermixtures would most fatal grow;\nFor vice would be hereditary too;\nThe tainted blood would of necessity,\nInvoluntary wickedness convey.\n  Vice, like ill-nature, for an age or two,\nMay seem a generation to pursue;\nBut virtue seldom does regard the breed,\nFools do the wise, and wise men fools succeed.\n  What is't to us, what ancestors we had?\nIf good, what better? or what worse, if bad?\nExamples are for imitation set,\nYet all men follow virtue with regret.\n  Could but our ancestors retrieve their fate,\nAnd see their offspring thus degenerate;\nHow we contend for birth and names unknown,\nAnd build on their past actions, not our own;\nThey'd cancel records, and their tombs deface,\nAnd openly disown the vile degenerate race:\nFor fame of families is all a cheat,\nIt's personal virtue only makes us great.\nTHE END.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The True-Born Englishman, by Daniel Defoe", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The True-Born Englishman"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n                 _The Explanation of the_ Frontispiece.\n     Reader thou in this _Frontispiece_ may\u2019st see\n     How _mortal Man_ seeks _Immortalitie_;\n     His beauteous _Frame_ he sees with speed decline,\n     And soon dissolv\u2019d by _Death_, tho\u2019 form\u2019d by _Hands Divine_.\n       _Sadness_ in Widows Robes deplores his _State_,\n     While the _Young Brood_ inspect the _Book of Fate_;\n     Pensive they view the _Rise_ and _Fall_ of _Man_,\n     With Tears survey his Transitory _Span_.\n       But his great _Soul_, full of C\u0153lestial _Flame_,\n     Disdaining _Death_, strives to extend his _Name_;\n     And conscious of our too too fickle _State_,\n     Would fain elude the Force of _Time_ and _Fate_:\n     The narrow Boundaries of _Life_ would pass,\n     By _Statues_, _Pillars_, Monumental _Brass_,\n     Aspiring _Pyramids_, that lift on high\n     Their spiral Heads to reach his kindred Skie,\n     Which in their dark _Repositories_ keep\n     The _Bodies_ safe in their _Immortal Sleep_;\n     While healing _Balm_ and _Aromatic Spice_,\n     _Death_\u2019s odious _Dissipation_ to their _Form_ denies.\n       _Death_ baffl\u2019d thus by wise _Chyrurgic Art_,\n     Wounds _Mortals_ there but with a blunted Dart;\n     And half the Terror of the _Griesly Fiend_\n     Is lost, when _Mortal Bodies_ know no end.\n       The _Bodies_ thus _Preserv\u2019d_, the thinking Part\n     _Men_ strive to keep alive by various _Art_,\n     And fine wrought _Medals_ and _Inscriptions_ use,\n     But above all the _bright recording Muse_;\n     Thro\u2019 _Time_\u2019s revolving Tide the faithful _Page_\n     Conveys their earliest _Rise_ to the remotest _Age_,\n     While _Death_ and _Time_ oppose their _Force_ in vain,\n     Superior _Men_ above their _Force_ remain;\n     _Temples_ and _Fanes_ they to the _Godhead_ raise,\n     To bribe the only _Power_, that _can_ destroy, with Praise.\n       _Jove_ pleas\u2019d, in Pity of the pious _Race_,\n     Two _Messengers_ sends down the Airy space,\n     To raise _Man_\u2019s _Ashes_ from the silent Urn,\n     Which touch\u2019d by _Hermes_ wand resume their pristine Form.\n       _Jove_\u2019s _Royal Bird_ attends to bear on high\n     Th\u2019 _Immortal Soul_ up to its Native _Skie_,\n     While _Fame_ aloud her Silver Trumpet sounds,\n     And with the _Lawrel Wreath_ the _Victor_ Crowns.\n       And thus _Eternal_ lives the _deathless Mind_,\n     Which, here on _Earth_, no setled _State_ could find.\n[Illustration: _T. Murray pinx._\n  _Thomas Greenhill_ Chirurgus.\n  HONOR ALIT ARTES\n  _Quo_ Fata trahunt retrahuntq\ua76b sequamur.\n  _P. Berchet delin^t._ _Nutting sculpsit. 1705._ ]\n                        And the several Ways of\n                         Preserving Dead Bodies\n                       Most Nations of the WORLD.\n     The particular Opinions, Experiments and Inventions of modern\n             Physicians, Surgeons, Chymists and Anatomists.\nSome new Matter propos\u2019d concerning a better Method of _Embalming_ than\n                     hath hitherto been discover\u2019d.\n  A _Pharmacop\u0153ia Galeno-Chymica, Anatomia sicca sive incruenta_, &c.\n          _The whole Work adorn\u2019d with variety of Sculptures._\n                   _By_ THOMAS GREENHILL, _Surgeon_.\n                   _LONDON_: Printed for the Author.\n                      After the _EGYPTIAN_ Method.\n An Account of the _Egyptian_ Mummies, Pyramids, Subterranean Vaults and\n    Lamps, and their Opinion of the _Metempsychosis_, the Cause of their\n    _Embalming_.\n A Geographical Description of _Egypt_, the Rise and Course of the\n    _Nile_, the Temper, Constitution and Physic of the Inhabitants,\n    their Inventions, Arts, Sciences, Stupendous Works and Sepulchres,\n    and other curious Observations any ways relating to the Physiology\n    and Knowledge of this _Art_.\n           _Illustrated with a Map and Fourteen Sculptures._\n                   _By_ THOMAS GREENHILL, _Surgeon_.\n               _LONDON_: Printed for the Author, M DCC V.\n To the Right Honourable THOMAS Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery\n THE PREFACE.\n A List of such Noblemen and Gentlemen as have been pleas\u2019d to Encourage\n    this Work with Sculptures.\n A List of such Noblemen and Gentlemen as have been pleas\u2019d to Encourage\n    this Work by Subscriptions.\n Amico admodum colendo D. THOM\u00c6 GREENHILL eximiam suam \u039d\u0395\u039a\u03a1\u039f\u039a\u0397\u0394\u0395\u0399\u0391\u039d\n    edenti \u03c7\u03b1\u1f77\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b5\u1f50\u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd.\n Viro Admod\u00f9m Erudito Thom\u00e6 Greenhill, Chirurgo in \u039d\u0395\u039a\u03a1\u039f\u039a\u0397\u0394\u0395\u0399\u0391\u039d, sive\n    Artem Pollinctur\u00e6, ab illo editam.\n TO HIS Ingenious Friend Mr. Thomas Greenhill.\n To his Friend the Author.\n ERRATA.\n LETTER I.\n LETTER II.\n LETTER III.\n A CATALOGUE OF Authors quoted in this Book.\n THE TABLE\n                        To the Right Honourable\n  Earl of _Pembroke_ and _Montgomery_; Baron _Herbert_ of _Caerdiff_;\n    Lord _Rosse_, _Par_, _Marmion_, St. _Quintin_ and _Shurland_; Lord\n    Lieutenant of the County of _Wilts_ and _South-Wales_; Knight of\n    the most Noble Order of the Garter, and President of Her Majesties\n    most Honourable Privy Council.\n _My Lord_,\nI count it no small Happiness, in an Age so Censorious as this, to have\nfound a Patron so universally admir\u2019d, that I am under no apprehension\nof being thought a Flatterer, should I make use of and indulge all the\nLiberty of a profest Panegyrist; but that is what a sense of my own\nInability and Your Lordship\u2019s Modesty forbids: It is sufficient for me,\nthat, under Your Lordship\u2019s known Learning in Antiquity and History,\nboth Antient and Modern, my weak Endeavours at restoring a _lost\nScience_ may be secure from the Assaults of the _Envious_ or the\n_Ignorant_.\nI have nothing to fear from the Animosities of Parties, since how\ninveterate soever they may be against each other, yet they all agree in\nthis one Point, to Esteem and Honour Your Lordship, who are the\n_Atticus_ of the Times, by Your Virtues endear\u2019d to all sides, and each\nbelieving that not to Value Your Lordship, would be to discover such an\naversion to Honour and Virtue as the worst of Men would abhor.\nYour Virtues, my Lord, are so conspicuous, that they give you that\nNatural and Rational Right to true Nobility, which the _Roman_ Satyrist\nso justly exprest:\n               \u2014\u2014_Nobilitas sola est atq; unica Virtus._\nI will not dispute whether or no there be any Intrinsic Value in a long\nDescent, or whether that be deriv\u2019d from the necessity of a\nSubordination essential to Government, or else from the just Reward of\nVirtue, which ennobles all the Posterity of the Possessors of it, it\nbeing here a very useless Disquisition since Your Lordship\u2019s Family is\nof so very high an Original that none can boast a greater Antiquity, and\nthat Your Lordship is possest of all that Merit which first\ndistinguish\u2019d Man from Man, and gave a Preeminence to the Deserving.\nAmong all the Excellencies which thus dignifie Your Lordship\u2019s\nCharacter, perhaps there is none more eminent than Your Protection and\nEncouragement of Arts and Sciences, to which the _English_ World owe the\nincomparable Mr. _Lock_\u2019s _Essays on Human Understanding_, and other\nWorks extreamly beneficial to the Public. Neither do I in the least\nquestion but Your Lordship\u2019s Protection of so excellent and useful an\n_Art_ as _Surgery_, will render it as flourishing here in _England_ as\nit is in any other part of the World. \u2019Tis true we are not wanting of\nsome extraordinary Professors of that _Art_, but I could also heartily\nwish we had not a greater number of Bad, and yet perhaps the chief\noccasion of this may be the want of a due Method of Encouragement, by\nwhich the modest Endeavours of young Proficients are eclips\u2019d, and which\n(to make a Comparison) like tender Plants, are nipp\u2019d in the Bud and\nperish for want of Watering.\nNow as the want of Opportunity has been in some respect a prejudice to\nmy Business, so also the want of Encouragement has in a great measure\nbeen a hindrance to this Work: For what regret of Mind must it needs\noccasion, to find none esteem\u2019d but such as speak Experience in their\nLooks, and that Youth should be despis\u2019d tho\u2019 never so hopeful and\nindustrious, meerly because of a particular number of Years, and what an\ninterruption must it be to our painful Studies, to think that even the\nbest Performances of this kind are contemn\u2019d because they are chiefly a\nCollection, when on the contrary it is receiv\u2019d as an establish\u2019d Maxim,\nthat such as Travel into Foreign Countries, are not only the most\ncapable to describe them, but also whatsoever they relate is look\u2019d upon\nas the sole matter of Fact and Truth, when many times Business is better\ntransacted by Correspondence, and those that have been at the trouble,\nexpence and danger of Travelling have come home no more improv\u2019d than\nthey went out, except in the Fashions and Levities of the Age, yet are\nwe commonly so imprudent as to value Things meerly for their coming from\na far and at a great deal of Expence; but whilst we admire those\nNovelties, we are often misled and deceiv\u2019d by meer Fables and imaginary\nStories of such Things as neither are, nor ever have been.\nThis I speak not in prejudice to Travelling it self, which, if rightly\nunderstood, is certainly the greatest Improvement in the World, and I\ncould heartily wish I had had the opportunity of its Advantage, but on\nthe contrary I do it chiefly to show that it is not impossible to give a\ntolerable, if not the best Account of the Ancients without it; for what\ncan any one, who now travels into _Egypt_, learn or see but such a\nruin\u2019d Country, that the very Place is hardly known where those\nwonderful Cities _Thebes_ and _Memphis_ stood, except what is\nTraditional or extracted from the Writings of the Ancients. \u2019Tis true,\nthe learn\u2019d and accurate Mr. _Greaves_ has given us the best Description\nof the _Pyramids_, but then this was both because they are at this Day\nin being, and to be view\u2019d by Travellers, as also that he carry\u2019d along\nwith him the best contriv\u2019d Instruments for taking their exact Altitudes\nand Dimensions, which few besides that see them trouble themselves with,\nbut are content to say, they have seen them; nevertheless _Greaves_ can\nneither give us the Names of the right Founders of them, nor any\ncertainty whether there were perpetual _burning Lamps_ in them, or a\n_Colossus_ or _Statue_ on the top of the bigger _Pyramid_, or, in a\nword, by whom and to what end the monstrous Figure of the _Sphinx_ was\nbuilt.\nBut however the aforesaid Reflections are not the only Discouragements\nto Industry and Study; to see our Profession over-run by _Quacks_ and\n_Mountebanks_, and that _Valet de Chambres_ are suffer\u2019d to Bleed, dress\nWounds, cut Fontanells, and perform the like Operations, is what has\nreduc\u2019d _Surgery_ to so low an ebb. In like manner the noble _Art of\nEmbalming_ has been intirely ruin\u2019d by the _Undertakers_, as also the\n_Court of Honour_ much prejudic\u2019d, of which Your Lordship has been twice\nSupreme Judge; from whence it is the _Balsamic Art_ is now-a-days look\u2019d\nupon as a very insignificant Thing, and not a little despis\u2019d, whereas\nthe Knowledge and Practise of that _Art_ is both useful in Natural\n_Phylosophy_, _Physiology_, _Physic_, _Surgery_ and _Anatomy_, as I hope\nI have fully prov\u2019d in the body of my Book, over and above that the\nHistory thereof leads us into the first and best Antiquities of the\nWorld. Your Lordship therefore being both a great Admirer and Encourager\nof Things of this nature, I hope, thro\u2019 Your generous Protection, not\nonly to secure my self against the contempt of all Critics, but also to\nbe enabl\u2019d to continue and complete my intended Work, and this has also\nbeen one Reason why I have thus vindicated _Surgery_, the _Art of\nEmbalming_ and my own _Collection_; in which, altho\u2019 I am not thoroughly\nsatisfy\u2019d that there is any thing worthy Your Lordship\u2019s perusal, yet\nthis I am sure of, that Your Candour will appear the greater, by\ncondescending to accept my mean Performance.\nAnd here, my Lord, I have the temptation to loose my self in the Field\nof Your Praises, but that I know both my Patron and my self too well to\nindulge the agreeable Contemplation. Were Your Lordship like common\nPatrons, I should do like common Dedicators, speak of the admirable\nTemperance of Your Life, Your Moderation, the Wonders of Your Conduct\nwhen You were _Lord High Admiral_, which Office was Administer\u2019d by Your\nLordship to the Universal Content and Satisfaction, both of the\nMerchant, the Officers and Sailers; Your Lordship\u2019s Prudence, Judgment\nand Sincerity in Your high Post of _President_ of Her Majesties most\nHonourable Privy Council: And I might extend my Considerations even to\nthe great Happiness such a Person must possess, who is so generally\nvalu\u2019d and esteem\u2019d both by his Queen and Country; but what is so well\nknown I shall leave as wanting not the help of any Panegyric to make it\nmore evident, and content my self with the Honour and Satisfaction of\nbeing permitted to Subscribe my self, _My Lord_,\n_It is not only the Authority of King_ Solomon, _the greatest, richest\nand wisest of Men, that convinces us_ There is nothing new under the\nSun, _but also common Observation daily shews us the Truth hereof; for\nwhether we respect Kingdoms and Monarchies, Cities or Villages, with\ntheir Civil, Military and Rural Transactions; whether we consider the\nAmbition of Kings and Princes, or the Captivity and Subjection of the\nCommon People; or if we look into the various Sects, Religions, Habits,\nCustoms, Manners, Arts and Sciences that are in the World, we shall in\nall things find we are but Imitators of our Fore-Fathers, and tread only\nin their Footsteps_.\n_The same Thing is acted to Day which was done a Thousand Years ago, and\nthis, after a Vicissitude of fantastic Alterations, will in another\nCentury come into Fashion again; so that we move like the C\u0153lestial\nOrbs, in the same Circumvolutions, and our whole Life is but_\n               Actum agere, & _Penelopes_ telam retexere.\n_It is the same with Books and Writings; for tho\u2019 public Advertisements\ndo daily inform us, that some Work or other is continually on the\nStocks, yet is it but the same Story inculcated over again, in another\nLanguage, different Volume, larger Print, additional Sculptures, and\nsome new Alterations; or else it is but a Translation, with Annotations,\nComments, and a Table annex\u2019d, which serve for new Amusements and the\nMaintenance of the Booksellers. Others which bear a greater Repute in\nthe World, as being penn\u2019d by the more Learned and Ingenious Persons, in\na very Concise and Elegant Stile, are generally nothing but some new\nfine-spun_ Virtuosi _Suggestions, extracted from an almost forgotten and\nout-of-fashion_ Hypothesis, _and each Improvement in Modern Arts, has\nundoubtedly ow\u2019d its Original to somewhat hinted to us by the Ancients_.\n_All this I freely acknowledge to be my own Case, with this difference\nonly, that I know my self deficient in that solid Learning and admirable\nStile they were wont to use; yet for your encouragement to peruse this\nTreatise, I can assure you, you shall hardly find any other Book which\nso generally, particularly and completely handles this Subject: Besides,\nI can justly aver that I devis\u2019d and compil\u2019d the greatest part thereof\nbefore I met with any Author that gave me so much Satisfaction as I have\nsince had; and notwithstanding my Notions were in a great measure\nagreeable to theirs, tho\u2019 unknown to me, yet will I modestly submit and\nattribute the Invention thereof to them_, First, _As being my Seniors,\nand who Wrote before me, and_, Secondly, _as infinitely the more Learn\u2019d\nand better Qualify\u2019d Writers. Nor does this Submission detract the least\nfrom my Labour, it having been to me the same thing as a_ lost Art: _And\nI would gladly be inform\u2019d, by any one at this Day, of the true Method\nof the antient_ Egyptian Embalming; _nay, would be content only to know\nthe more Modern, tho\u2019 more excellent Way, that of_ Bilsius.\n_We must therefore grant that the Ancients knew many Things, which in\nprocess of Time, either thro\u2019 Fire, Inundations, hostile Invasions, or\nother Accidents and Devastations, have intirely perish\u2019d, and still\nremain so, as_ Pancirollus _fully shews; or if we have any superficial\nKnowledge of them, as is somewhat apparent from our Modern Architecture,\nSculpture, Painting_, &c. _yet are we even at this present so vastly\ndeficient in the very best of our Imitations, that none have ever\nhitherto arriv\u2019d to any tolerable Perfection; nevertheless should any\none so perfectly apply himself to the Study of one of those_ lost Arts,\n_as to make a new Discovery therein, I hope you would allow him the same\nPraise as if he had been the first Inventor; and, for my part, however I\nshould fail in answering your Expectation, of what is seemingly promis\u2019d\nin the_ Title-Page; _yet, thus far I am pretty sure, that I have given\nmore light into the Matter, than has been done by any of those imperfect\nAccounts of_ Herodotus, Diodorus Siculus, _&c. And tho\u2019 some Things that\nI say may seem to want Authority, yet for the most part, should I have\nmade all the Quotations I could have brought to prove my Assertions, it\nwould have extended this Volume to a much larger size than I intended;\nwherefore I have in a great measure designedly omitted them, to the end\nI might avoid Prolixity as much as possible, and in other places I have\nus\u2019d their Words expresly as my own, not to detract from them, but to be\nmore concise, and have in several places not mention\u2019d their Names, for\nthe aforesaid Reasons: So I do here, once for all, with submission,\nApologize for my self, that the censorious World may not repute me an\nungrateful_ Plagiary.\n_I acknowledge therefore this my Labour, in one respect to be a\nCollection, in all to be still deficient of that Perfection which so\nnoble an_ Art _deserves; yet in some Things I have improv\u2019d it, and in\nothers apply\u2019d it to those Uses which have scarce before been thought\nof. But all the Satisfaction I have herein, is to think that I have\nperform\u2019d my Duty, in exerting my small Talent, with the utmost Care and\nDiligence, for the Benefit of our_ Company; _and if my Work does not\nperform what is intended and desir\u2019d, it will nevertheless be Useful,\nPleasant, and serve to Divert you, which_ Horace _says is the Perfection\nand Chief end of all Writing_:\n              Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit Utile Dulci.\nA List of such Noblemen and Gentlemen as have been pleas\u2019d to Encourage\n                       this Work with Sculptures.\n His Grace _Wriothesly_ Duke of _Bedford_\n The Honourable _James Saunderson_, Esq;\n _Nathaniel Long_, Esq;\n Mr. _James Pettiver_, Apothecary, F. R. S.\n _Charles Bernard_, Esq; Serjeant Surgeon\n _John Lawson_, M. D.\n _Hans Sloane_, M. D.\n _William Gibbons_, M. D.\n Mr. _Francis Moult_, Chymist\n His Grace _Thomas_ Lord Arch-Bishop of _Canterbury_\n _John Thorpe_, A. M.\n Mr. _Joseph Whiston_, Druggist\n _Robert Nelson_, Esq;\n Mr. _George Rolfe_, Surgeon\nA List of such Noblemen and Gentlemen as have been pleas\u2019d to Encourage\n                      this Work by Subscriptions.\n Mr. _Benjamin Adams_\n _John Allen_, Esq;\n Mr. _Richard Alsop_\n Mr. _Thomas Ashly_\n _William Ashmole_, M. D.\n _Philip Ayres_, Esq;\n Mr. _William Bacon_, Surgeon\n _William Baddiford_, M. D.\n _Nicholas Battersby_, Esq;\n Mr. _Nicholas Batt_\n Mr. _Robert Baylies_\n _Wriothesly_ Duke of _Bedford_\n Mr. _William Bedford_\n _Charles Bernard_, Esq; Serj. Surg.\n Mr. _Henry Bernard_, Apothecary\n Mrs. _Jane Bernard_\n Dr. _William Benson_\n _Joseph Birch_, M. B.\n Mr. _John Blomfield_\n Mr. _James Booth_, Surgeon\n Mr. _John Bound_\n Mr. _John Bornhold_\n _George Bramston_, L. L. D. Master of _Trinity-Hall_ in _Cambridge_.\n _Samuel Brewster_, Esq;\n Mr. _George Brewster_\n _William Bridge_, M. D.\n Mr. _Samuel Bridge_, for 6 Books\n Mr. _Jeremiah Bright_\n Mr. _Thomas Briscoe_\n Mr. _Barton Bromly_\n _Humphry Brooks_, M. D.\n _John Brown_, Esq;\n _Thomas Brown_, M. D.\n Mr. _Richard Brown_\n Mr. _Albert Bryan_\n Mr. _Richard Bull_, Druggist\n _Richard Butler_, Esq;\n Mr. _John Byard_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Christopher Byland_\n Mr. _Francis Bythel_\n _Thomas_ Lord Arch-Bishop of _Canterbury_, for 3.\n Mr. _Thomas Cawthorpe_, Apoth.\n Mr. _John Chamberlain_\n Mr. _Lawrence de la Chambre_\n _Thomas Chambers_, Esq;\n _Hans Peter Charriere_, M. D.\n Mr. _Thomas Child_, for 3.\n Mr. _Thomas Cholmley_\n Mr. _John Chrichloe_\n The Right Honourable the Earl of _Clarendon_\n Mr. _Joseph Clench_, Apothecary\n _William Cockburn_, M. D.\n _William Cole_, M. D.\n Mr. _William Cole_, Surgeon\n Mr. _George Collinson_\n Mr. _Andrew Cooper_, Surgeon\n Sir _Godfry Copley_\n _Thomas Cotton_, Esq;\n Mr. _William Cowper_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Brian Cozens_\n Monsieur _Le Croix_, Surgeon to the Sick and Wounded of _Kingsale_ in\n    _Ireland_\n Sir _William Dawes_, Bar^t. D. D.\n Mr. _Philip Dewert_\n Mrs. _Elizabeth Dillingham_\n Mr. _Francis Douce_, Surgeon\n Capt. _Joseph Drake_, Clerk of the Admiralty\n _James Drake_, M. D.\n Mr. _Charles Draper_\n Mr. _Samuel Dudly_\n _Henry Edmunds_, M. A.\n The Reverend _Charles Elstob_, D. D.\n _Anthony Erby_, Esq;\n Dr. _William Forward_\n Sir _Andrew Fountain_\n _Samuel Garth_, M. D. for 4.\n Mr. _Christopher Gately_, Apoth.\n Mr. _Robert Gay_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Alexander Geekie_, Surgeon\n _William Gibbons_, M. D.\n The Reverend _Edmund Gibson_, D. D.\n Mr. _Charles Gildon_\n Mr. _Francis Glascock_\n Mr. _Thomas Granger_\n Mr. _Edward Green_ }\n Mr. _Joseph Green_ } Surgeons\n Mr. _John Green_   }\n _William Greenhill_, Esq; for 3.\n Mr. _John Greenhill_\n Mr. _William Grigson_\n Mr. _William Grimes_\n The Right Honourable the Lord _Halifax_\n Mr. _Stephen Hall_, Surgeon\n The Reverend _William Hanbury_, M. A.\n _John Hare_, Esq;\n Mr. _Charles Hargrave_\n Mr. _Charles Harman_\n Mr. _John Harris_\n _John Harrison_, Esq;\n Mr. _John Hartley_\n Mr. _Richard Harvey_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Joshua Hatfield_\n The Honourable _Charles Hatton_, Esq;\n Mr. _Henry Hazzard_\n _George Hepburn_, M. D.\n Mr. _John Hesket_\n _Thomas Hesket_, A. M.\n _Thomas Hewett_, M. A. and Fellow of _Clare-Hall_ in _Cambridge_\n The Reverend _George Hicks_, D. D.\n Mr. _Bevill Higgons_\n Mr. _Thomas Hill_\n Mr. _John Hill_, Apothecary\n Mr. _George Hinckster_, Surgeon\n Mr. _George Hockenhull_\n Mr. _Thomas Hodgson_\n _Henry Hoghton_, Esq;\n _Philip Horneck_, L. L. B.\n Mr. _Benjamin Howell_\n Mr. _Hungerford Hoskins_\n Mr. _Stephen Jermyn_\n Mr. _William Keith_\n Mr. _John Kersey_, Sen.\n Capt. _John Kerton_\n Capt. _John Key_\n Mr. _Thomas King_, Apothecary\n Mrs. _Catharine Lacy_\n Mr. _Samuel Lane_, Apothecary\n _John Lawson_, M. D.\n _Nathaniel Long_, Esq;\n Mr. _Josias Long_\n Mr. _Mordecai Lyde_, Surgeon\n Mr. _John Mackie_, Surgeon\n Mr. _John Magill_, Surgeon\n Sir _George Markham_, Baronet\n Mr. _Samuel Marwood_\n Mr. _Nathaniel Mezy_, Apoth.\n Dr. _Richard Middleton Massey_\n Mr. _Charles Mathar_\n Mr. _Charles Midgley_, Chymist\n Mr. _John Mills_, Surgeon\n Dr. _More_, Lord Bishop of _Norwich_\n Mr. _Peter Motteux_\n Mr. _George Moult_, Chymist\n Mr. _Francis Moult_, Chymist\n Mr. _Thomas Murray_\n _Robert Nelson_, Esq;\n Dr. _William Nicholson_, Lord Bishop of _Carlisle_\n _Denton Nicholas_, M. D.\n Mr. _Vincent St. Nicholas_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Marmaduke Norcliff_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Joseph Nutting_, for 2.\n Mr. _John Oldmixon_\n Mr. _John Padmore_, Apothecary\n _Richard Page_, Esq;\n Mr. _John Partridge_, Apothecary\n Mr. _John Peat_\n Mr. _James Pettiver_, Apothecary\n Mr. _William Philips_\n The Honourable _William Pierpoint_, Esq;\n Mr. _Thomas Pierce_, Surgeon\n The Reverend Mr. _George Plaxton_\n Mr. _William Plaxton_\n Mr. _Jacob Pullen_\n Mr. _Nathan Putt_\n Mrs. _Grace Rackstraugh_\n _John Rathborn_, M. D.\n Mr. _George Richardson_, Apoth.\n Mr. _Jonas Rolse_\n Mr. _George Rolfe_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Abel Roper_\n Mr. _Samuel Sault_\n Mr. _John Salter_, Surgeon\n Mr. _John Salter_, Apothecary\n Mr. _John Savage_\n Mr. _Richard Savery_\n The Honourable _James Saunderson_, Esq; for 2.\n Mr. _Joshua Sharpe_\n _John Shadwell_, M. D.\n _Hans Sloane_, M. D.\n Mr. _William Sloper_, Surgeon\n The Reverend _Thomas Smith_, D.D.\n Mr. _George Smith_\n Mr. _John Smith_\n Mr. _Nathaniel Smith_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Francis Snape_\n Mr. _Joshua Spencer_, Chymist\n Mr. _Thomas Spurway_\n _Samuel Stebbins_, Esq;\n Mr. _Thomas Stollord_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Samuel Storer_\n Mr. _John Sturmy_\n Mr. _John Sturt_\n Mr. _William Talman_\n Mr. _Christopher Talman_, Surgeon\n Dr. _Thomas Tomlinson_\n The Honourable Coll. _Thompson_\n _John Thorpe_, M. A.\n _Edward Tidcomb_, Esq;\n Mr. _Thomas Tucker_, Surgeon\n Mr. _James Tully_\n Mr. _Charles Wadcock_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Lyonel Wafer_, Surgeon\n Mr. _Henry Walker_, Surgeon\n _Robert Walpool_, Esq; Councellor of the Admiralty\n Mr. _Samuel Walton_, Chymist\n The Reverend _Richard Ward_, M.A.\n Capt. \u2014\u2014 _Watkins_\n _Abraham Weeks_, M. A. of _Maudlin College_ in _Oxford_\n _Thomas West_, M. D.\n Mr. _John West_\n Mr. _Joseph Whiston_, for 6.\n Mr. _Ayliff White_\n Mr. _George Wilson_, Chymist\n Mr. _John Wilson_, Surgeon\n Mr. _James Wiltshire_\n _Henry Worsley_, Esq;\n Mr. _John Wyat_, for 6.\n Mr. _John Yates_, Surgeon\n  Amico admodum colendo D. _THOM\u00c6 GREENHILL_ eximiam suam \u039d\u0395\u039a\u03a1\u039f\u039a\u0397\u0394\u0395\u0399\u0391\u039d\n                     edenti \u03c7\u03b1\u1f77\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b5\u1f50\u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd.\n      _Quodcunq; ex Terris volitat medicamen_ Eois,\n        _Et quas commistas_ India _pr\u00e6bet Opes;\n      Quotquot_ Persiacis _glomerantur Aromata in Arvis,\n        Atq;_ Sab\u00e6orum _Balsama prompta Solo;\n      Quascunq; auratas_ Arabum _Campestria Merces,\n        Pharmaca vel quotquot_ Turcica Mecca, _locant;\n      Fervidus exustas peragrans Mercator Arenas,\n        Qu\u00e6cunq; asportat Magmata odorifera;\n      Qu\u00e6q;_ Pal\u00e6stinis _stillant Opobalsama Plantis,\n        Et qu\u00e6_ Nilois _consita sparsa Jugis;\n      Thaumata_ Memphiticis _qu\u00e6cunq; videntur in Antris,\n        Et qu\u00e6 Pyramidum claustra stupenda tenent;\n      Tradidit arcano quodcunq; Volumine_ Mystes\n        Ter Magnus, _vel qu\u00e6 dogmata_ Aristoteles;\n      _Cuncta h\u00e6c dignatur nobis_ Greenhillius _ardens\n        Ecce salutifera suppeditare Manu.\n      Esse quid hoc dicam, novus hic divinus_ Apollo\n        _Quod subito Arctois Alpibus exoritur!\n      Cedite_, Romani _Medicastri, cedite_ Graii,\n        _Abdicet atq; Artes_ [1]Anglica Turba _novas.\n      Nullus adest Squalor, F\u00e6torve, aut dira Mephitis,\n        Sed redolent succis Atria thuriferis;\n      Mirifico incis\u00e6 stipantur Pulvere Ven\u00e6,\n        Atq; Artus laxos Unguina mista fovent.\n      Volvas, Mysta sagax, Vita Ceromate functa\n        Corpora, & intingas_ Bammate _perpetuo:\n      Pr\u00e6clara socios pergas sanare Medela,\n        Atq; Orci rabidis Faucibus eripere;\n      Donec succinea sero sis clausus in Arca,\n        Dumq; Animus propere tendat ad Astra Viam_.\nFootnote 1:\n  Undertakers.\n Viro Admod\u00f9m Erudito _Thom\u00e6 Greenhill_, Chirurgo in \u039d\u0395\u039a\u03a1\u039f\u039a\u0397\u0394\u0395\u0399\u0391\u039d, sive\n                  Artem _Pollinctur\u00e6_, ab illo editam.\n         _Miramur_ Phariis _nutantia Pondera Saxis,\n           Et min\u00f9s Hospitibus firma Sepulchra suis.\n         Quod dare debuerant, \u00c6vo Monumenta carerent,\n           S\u00e6cula ni functis sumeret ipse Lapis.\n         Arguit elapsam, qu\u00e2_ Mumia _duruit, Artem,\n           Orbatumq; dolet Matre superstes Opus.\n         At tua Niliaci referent Arcana Laboris\n           Scripta, nec ignotis jam fluet Amnis Aquis._\n         Arabi\u00e6 F\u0153licis _Opes, Miracula_ Memphis,\n           Isiacos _Mores, Justa, Sepulchra, Faces,\n         Quicquid_ Arabs _novit_, Pharii _docuere Sophist\u00e6\n           Indicibus Chartis pandet amica Manus_.\n         Pollinctura _tibi reduces debebit Honores,\n           Arteq;_ Apolline\u00e2 _Structa perennis erit.\n         Corpora qu\u00e2 nobis servas, tibi nomen in \u00c6vum\n           Servabis; qu\u00e2 nos Fama manebit, ope.\n         Quid dissolvendum restat, Mors irrita? Servat\n           Corpora_ Greenhillus _salva, Animasq; DEUS_.\n                _Ingenious Friend Mr._ Thomas Greenhill.\n  \u2019Tis great and worthy of our _Praise_ to lead\n  The _Living_ thro\u2019 the _Dwellings_ of the _Dead_;\n  _Death\u2019s_ grisly _Terrours_ by your _Skill_ to Charm,\n  And his fell _Furies_ of their _Stings_ disarm:\n  The _Mighty Maker_ has on you bestow\u2019d\n  The wond\u2019rous _Science_ for a general _Good_.\n  The _Labours_ of your _Studies_ he has crown\u2019d\n  With _Art_, alike Important and Profound;\n  With _Death_ and _Time_ he\u2019s taught you to engage,\n  And save his best _Creation_ from their _Rage_.\n  _MAN_, the true _Image_ of his heav\u2019nly _Form_,\n  Was a rich _Prey_ to the devouring _Worm_;\n  Scarce had his _Breath_ it\u2019s Vital Seat forsook\n  But frozen were his _Limbs_, and frightful was his _Look_,\n  Livid his _Lips_, his whole _Complexion_ wan,\n  And _Nature_ loath\u2019d to view the lifeless _Man_;\n  A poor Precarious _Being_ he enjoy\u2019d,\n  And soon the _Grave_ his beauteous _Frame_ destroy\u2019d,\n  Till you had learn\u2019d by equal _Thought_ and _Care_\n  To keep him, as he was created, _Fair_;\n  To heal the ghastly _Wounds_ that _Death_ had made,\n  And give new _Beauties_ which shall never fade:\n  _Heav\u2019n_ has to you the Sacred _Art_ reveal\u2019d,\n  Which had for twice ten _Ages_ been conceal\u2019d;\n  From common Ruine you the _Body_ keep,\n  And turn the filthiness of _Death_ to _Sleep_;\n  Fair as the _Slumbers_ of a _Virgin_ seem,\n  Who dreams of _Joy_, and blushes at her _Dream_,\n  _Youth_ you preserve, and by your _Science_ save\n  The living _Graces_ in the rotting _Grave_.\n  Sooner the _Egyptian_ King\u2019s aspiring _Tomb_\n  May fall, the _Marble_ waste, the _Brass_ consume,\n  Old _Time_ may sooner run his destin\u2019d Race,\n  Than the new _Wonders_ of your _Art_ deface:\n  The _Balm_ and _Eastern Odours_ you employ,\n  The Noxious _Vapours_ of the _Vault_ destroy;\n  You reconcile us to the Things we loath,\n  We feel the _Flesh_ is firm, the _Features_ smooth;\n  We see, we smell, by e\u2019ry _Sense_ we try\n  Your _Skill_, and are no more afraid to _Die_.\n    Go on\u2014\u2014And may you equal _Favour_ find,\n  With the vast _Service_ you have done _Mankind_:\n  May the vile _Quacks_, who _Heav\u2019ns_ high _Form_ prophane,\n  With _Practices_ as infamous as vain.\n  The base _Impostors_ of the _Funeral Trade_,\n  Who cheat at once the _Living_ and the _Dead_,\n  Be _punish\u2019d_ and _expos\u2019d_, and _Art_ restor\u2019d\n  To her old _Honours_, and her due _Reward_:\n  So late _Posterity_ shall sing your _Praise_,\n  And _Fame_ bright _Statues_ to your _Glory_ raise.\n                      _To his Friend the Author._\n Fragrant _Arabian Gums_, employ\u2019d with _Art_,\n From _Worms_ and _Dust_ preserve our meaner _Part_;\n But _Labours_, such as yours, enliven _Fame_,\n And with due _Elogies_ preserve a _Name_;\n They\u2019ll make the _Worthies_ of the _Age_ to come\n Just _Homage_ pay, and venerate your _Tomb_.\n _Greenhill_, proceed in _Learning\u2019s Paths_ to tread,\n And make your self _Immortal_ by the _Dead_;\n Be this your _Praise_, with equal _Skill_ you strive\n To _Embalm_ the _Dead_, and keep your _Friends_ alive.\nPage 24. Line 24. for _Juji\u00e6_ read _Injice_, p. 31. l. 9. for _Nolanus_\nr. _Santorellus_, p. 111. l. 31. for on _r._ in, p. 127. l. 29. for\n_Marenuna_ r. _Maremnia_, p. 230. l. 12. for _Romans_ r. _Grecians_, p.\n330. l. 26. for _Scardonius_ r. _Scardeonius_.\n  _To_ Charles Bernard, _Esq; Sergeant-Surgeon to Her MAJESTY, Present\n    Master of the Surgeons Company, and one of the Surgeons of St._\n    Bartholomew_\u2019s Hospital_.\n SIR,\n[Sidenote: _Surgery_ the Chief of _Art_]\nIf the Excellency of any _Art_ consist only in its Usefulness, or if it\nderive its Preeminence from the Object, with which it converses, it\nnecessarily must follow, That the Profession of _Surgery_ is the Chief\nof _Arts_, since it is employ\u2019d about so noble a Subject as _Man_; and\ntherefore the _Greeks_ have thought fit to call such manual Operations\n_The Art of Surgery_, which otherwise might as well have been apply\u2019d to\nany Mechanick Trade.\n[Sidenote: Has two useful Branches;]\nThence it is _Anatomy_ and _Embalming_ are also equally to be esteem\u2019d,\nsince they are not only Branches of this _Art_, but likewise absolutely\nnecessary to be known by its Professors; the one informing us of the\nconstituent Parts of the Body, and the other preserving it for ever in\nour Memories.\n[Sidenote: One Taught in our _Theatre_, and the other to be wish\u2019d\n           there, yet _Embalming_ practis\u2019d only by _Undertakers_.]\nThe first has been Learnedly Treated of by our own Countrymen, as well\nas Foreigners, and is admirably perform\u2019d even at this Day in our\n_Anatomical Theatre_; whereas the last, I know not by what Fate, is\nsurreptitiously cut off from _Surgery_, and chiefly practis\u2019d by\nignorant _Undertakers_.\n[Sidenote: The Author vindicates the Right of it.]\nFor the Honour therefore of our Profession, I have undertaken to\nvindicate _The Art of Embalming_, and will prove it to be no less\nantient and noble than _Surgery_ it self. In order to this, I will first\nshew both the antient and modern Methods of _Embalming_, as practis\u2019d by\nthe most learned and expert _Physicians_, _Surgeons_ and _Anatomists_,\nand then proceed to detect the Frauds and Subtilties of the\n_Undertakers_ or _Burial-Men_, to the end the World being made sensible\nof their Abuses, may the easier be reconcil\u2019d to a right Opinion of the\nlegal and skilful Artist; but before I proceed to acquaint you with any\nfarther particulars, I shall content my self to shew you the Authority\nand Reasonableness of the Use of _Embalming_, together with the many\nAdvantages that accrue thereby. [Sidenote: Useful in _Natural\nPhilosophy_ and _Physiology_.] First, I presume, it may not be a little\nEntertaining, should I relate how far the Knowledge of this _Art_ may be\nnecessary in our very Domestic and Culinary Affairs, such as, Tanning,\nPainting, Dying, Brewing, Baking, _&c._ as also in Confectionery, by\nConserving all sorts of Roots, Herbs and Fruits, and Preserving Wines\nand Juices; for this _Art_ being grounded as well on _Natural\nPhilosophy_ as _Physiology_, it not only teaches us how to Improve our\nDrinks, but our Aliments likewise, and not only to give a grateful Taste\nin Cookery, and thereby to whet the Appetite, but also to Preserve fresh\nMeats, Fish, Fruits, _&c._ beyond their wonted duration.\n[Sidenote: Particularly in _Anatomy_, _Surgery_, &c.]\nThese Things however I will pass by for the present, that I may come\nmore immediately to my principal _Intent_, which is to shew how a Body\nmay be so Preserv\u2019d, that by the help of _Anatomy_ we may trace its\nminute _Meanders_, and investigate the secret Passages thereof, without\nbeing hindred by any offensive _Odour_ or contaminating _Cruor_.\n[Sidenote: How Useful to the _Naturalist_,]\nBy this _Art_ the _Naturalist_ may be enabled to Collect and Preserve a\nnumberless variety of Birds, Beasts, Fishes, Reptiles, Herbs, Shrubs,\nTrees, with Things monstrous and preternatural; as likewise those which\nare more rare and not appropriate to his own Climate, and this for\ncompleating his _Mus\u00e6um_ or Repository with all the Curiosities and\nRarities in the Animal and Vegetable World.\n[Sidenote: To the _Physician_,]\nBy this _Art_ the _Physician_ learns the situation and use of the Parts\nof Man\u2019s Body, with the several alterations and changes in the Juices,\nas well in their healthful as morbid State; and consequently knows how\nto preserve and confirm them free from all Diseases, as likewise to\ncorrect and put a stop to malignant and putrid Fevers, which otherwise\nmust inevitably destroy the sick and weak Patient.\n[Sidenote: To the _Surgeon_.]\nBy this _Art_ the _Surgeon_, in a rightly prepar\u2019d Skeleton, sees the\nnatural Position of the Bones, and proper Motions of each Part, with the\ntrue and natural Schemes of the Veins, Arteries, Nerves and other\ncurious Preparations; which not only teach him the difference between\nthe Muscles, the _similar_, _dissimilar_, and _containing_ as well as\n_contained_ Parts of the Body; but likewise how, in performing each\nOperation, he should skilfully avoid Cutting what he should not, and\ndestroying the Function of that he is to relieve. He is also hereby\ninstructed what Remedies may be found out against _Gangrenes_,\n_Sphacelus_ and other Distempers that are judg\u2019d Incurable without being\nextirpated by Knife or Fire: Who then can sufficiently admire and value\nthis Noble _Art of Embalming_ since it tends to the Conservation both of\nLife and Limb?\n[Sidenote: _Anatomy_ deficient without it.]\nFor tho\u2019 _Anatomy_ gives us an Insight into these Things in general, yet\nis it deficient without the _Balsamic Art_, in as much as it can neither\nso particularly nor frequently shew us, what in conjunction with it, may\nwithout any offence be Contemplated at any Time, and as often as we\nplease.\n[Sidenote: How useful in _Divinity_.]\nThus may we entirely conquer and accomplish that _Delphian_ Oracle,\n\u0393\u03bd\u1ff6\u03b8\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b5\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd, by making most of our Disquisitions into Human Nature by\n_Dissections_: And tho\u2019 Brutes may sometimes be useful in _Comparative\nAnatomy_, yet Man being the _Epitome_ and Perfection of the _Macrocosm_,\nhis Body shews a more wonderful Mechanism than all other Creatures can\ndo, as one thus very elegantly expresses in Latin: _Hominem_ (says he)\n_a DEO post reliqua factum fuisse; ut DEUS in ipso exprimeret, sub brevi\nquodam Compendio, quicquid diffuse ante fecerat_.\n[Sidenote: What accounted by this Age and what by the _Antients_.]\nThe present Age therefore accounts the chief Use of this _Art_ to be in\n_Anatomical_ Preparations; but I shall shew another more antient and\nmore general, which is the Preserving a Human Dead Body entire, and\nwhich is properly term\u2019d _Embalming_: More antient, I say, as having\nbeen first devis\u2019d and practis\u2019d by the Wise and Learned _Egyptians_,\nand more general in that it relates to every particular Person, yet is\nit by most despis\u2019d and look\u2019d on meerly as an unnecessary expensive\nTrouble; so that unless I can convince these People to the contrary, I\nmust not expect to find my ensuing Labours meet with any Favour. But\nbefore I affirm _The Art of Embalming_ to be a particular part of that\nDuty, which obliges all Mankind to take care of their Dead, [Sidenote:\nThe Right of Burial and Funeral Ceremonies.] I shall give some cogent\nReasons to prove the Right of Burial, what Things are necessary thereto,\nwhether Ceremonies are needless and superstitious, or Monuments\nvain-glorious, _&c._ and this shall be as Nature dictates, the Law of\nGOD appoints, and the Law of Nations directs and obliges.\n[Sidenote: _Sepulture_ a Debt to Nature.]\nFirst, _Sepulture_ is truly and rightly accounted to be _Jus Natur\u00e6_, by\nreason the very condition of Human Nature admonishes us, that the\nspiritless Body should be restor\u2019d to the Earth, from whence it was\nderiv\u2019d; so that it only pays that Debt of its own accord, which\notherwise Nature would require against its Will. Thus, in the beginning\nof the World, so soon as _Adam_ had transgressed, [Sidenote: Ordain\u2019d by\nGOD himself.] GOD said to him, _Gen._ 3. 19. _Thou shalt return to the\nGround, from whence thou wert taken; for Dust thou art, and unto Dust\nthou shalt return_. Whence _Ecclesiastes_, 12. 7. says, _The Dust shall\nreturn to the Earth as it was: and the Spirit to GOD who gave it_.\nLikewise patient _Job_ thus expresses himself, _Job_ 1. 21. _Naked came\nI out of my Mothers Womb_ (which _David_ also calls the _Lowest part of\nthe Earth_, Psalm 139. 15.) _and naked shall I return thither_. Upon\nwhich _Quenstedt_ thus Comments, _p._ 10. De Sepult. vet. _He shall not\nreturn again into his Mothers Womb, but unto the Earth which is the\nMother of all Things_. Upon which occasion read also _Ecclesiasticus_,\n[Sidenote: Practis\u2019d by the _Heathens_.]\nHence it is the _Heathens_ have generally follow\u2019d the same Custom of\nrestoring the Dead to their Mother Earth; since it is but according to\nthe course of Nature, for all Things to return at last to their first\nPrinciples, and that so soon as ever a Disunion or Dissolution of the\nParts of Man\u2019s Body shall be caused by Death. That each Thing has ever\nimmediately requir\u2019d what it gave, is excellently describ\u2019d by\n_Euripides_, in one of his _Tragedies_ call\u2019d the _Supplicants_, where\nhe introduces _Theseus_ Talking after this manner:\n                \u1f18\u1f71\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u2019 \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7 \u03b3\u1fc7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03c5\u03c6\u03b8\u1fc6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u1f7b\u03c2.\n                \u1f4d\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03b4\u2019 \u1f15\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c3\u1ff6\u03bc\u2019 \u1f00\u03c6\u1f77\u03ba\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf,\n                \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03b8\u2019 \u1f00\u03c0\u1fc6\u03bb\u03b8\u03b5, \u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u1fe6\u03bc\u03b1 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f30\u03b8\u1f73\u03c1\u03b1,\n                \u03a4\u1f78 \u03c3\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b4\u2019 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd\u0387 \u03bf\u1f54 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u1f75\u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03b1\n                \u1f29\u03bc\u1f73\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03bb\u1f74\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b2\u1f77\u03bf\u03bd\u0387\n                \u039a\u1f84\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b8\u03c1\u1f73\u03c8\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1f78 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd.\n                _Jam sinite Terr\u00e6 Mortuos Gremio tegi:\n                Res unde qu\u00e6que sumpserat Primordium,\n                Eo recipitur: Spiritus C\u00e6lo redit\n                Corpusque Terr\u00e6: Jure nec enim mancupi:\n                Sed brevis ad \u00c6vi Tempus utendum datur:\n                Mox Terra repetit ipsa quod nutriverat._\n           Suffer the Dead within the Earths cold Womb\n           To be Interr\u2019d, nor envy them a Tomb;\n           For all Things, whence they did their Being draw,\n           Thither, at last, return by Natures Law:\n           The Soul flies back to Heav\u2019n from whence it came,\n           Our mouldring Bodies Mother Earth does claim;\n           Lent us but for a fleeting space to wear,\n           And then they to their first Abodes repair.\n[Sidenote: Asserted in the _Scripture_.]\nHereby it plainly appears that we really possess nothing of our own, and\nwhat we seem to enjoy, is but only lent us for a season, and must be\nrestor\u2019d again when ever we die, which is agreeable to that Expression\nof _Job_, in the latter part of the above-mentioned Verse and Chapter.\n_The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the Name of the\nLord._ Also Holy _David_, Psalm 146. 4. (speaking of Man\u2019s Frailty and\nMortality) says, _His Breath goes forth, he returns to his Earth_. Here\nhe emphatically calls it _his Earth_, both because he was made of it,\n_Gen._ 2. 27. and must return to it again, _Gen._ 3. 19. and by reason\nhe has a Right to a Burial-Place in it.\n[Sidenote: Confirm\u2019d by the _Philosophers_ and _Poets_.]\nThe same is likewise Taught us by _Cicero_, where he says, _Reddenda\nTerra Terr\u00e6_: _That the Earth_ (meaning Man\u2019s Body) _must be restor\u2019d to\nits Earth_; which also gave occasion to the antient Philosophers to\ncontemplate the Beginning and End, or the Life and Death of Man, that\nthereby they might be the better able to Teach us what we really are in\nNature, and how little we have to Boast of: The very Thought of which\nput an old Poet into a Passion and Admiration, expressing himself thus\nin gingling _Monkish_ Verses:\n             _Cum F\u00e6x, cum Limus, cum Res vilissima simus,\n             Unde superbimus, ad Terram Terra redimus._\n               Man who is made of _Earth_, Can he be vain\n               And know he must return to _Earth_ again?\nMethinks the very Consideration of this should cause us to lay aside all\nPride and Vanity, and serve for a perpetual Memorial of Humility and\nObedience to our _Creator_, who as he was pleas\u2019d to endue us with\nRational Souls, and to give us Dominion over all Things here below, yet,\nthat we might not be thereby puffed up and tempted to forget him, he\nwisely formed us of the _Dust_, and, in his good Time, will reduce us to\n_Dust_ again. Thence Divine _Plato_ assures us, that the End and Scope\nof his Philosophy was only _The Consideration of Death_.\n[Sidenote: Its Rise and Antiquity.]\nIn Obedience therefore to the Laws both of GOD and Nature, _Sepulture_\nundoubtedly was at first Instituted, and if either Antiquity or\nuniversal Custom can prove a convincing Argument, you may account it as\nantient as the World it self, and us\u2019d by all Nations tho\u2019 perhaps in\ndifferent manners; for you must allow, so soon as Death came in by Man\u2019s\nTransgression, it necessarily follow\u2019d that some care must have been\ntaken to Bury his Carcass. The first Instance of this that we read of,\nin the Sacred History of the old Testament, is how _Abraham_, the Father\nof the _Faithful_, Buried his Wife _Sarah_ in the Cave of the Field\n_Machpelah_, which he had bought of the Sons of _Heth_ for a\nBurying-Place for his Family, _Gen._ 23. 19, 20. There also St. _Jerome_\nasserts _Adam_ the first Man was Buried; and _Nicolaus Lyranus_ and\n_Alphonsus Tostatus_ are of Opinion the Four Patriarchs were Buried\nthere likewise with their Wives, _Eve_, _Sarah_, _Rebecca_ and _Lea_,\nall which you may find explain\u2019d more at large in _Quenstedt_, p. 2, 3,\n[Sidenote: First Cause of it.]\nNow this seems to have been one of the _first Causes of Interment_, to\nwit, that it being the course of Nature, for Bodies depriv\u2019d of Spirit\nor Life to corrupt or stink; and the Medicinal Art being little known\nand less us\u2019d in those early Days (without the Knowledge of which it was\nimpossible to preserve them) there remained no other way of securing the\nLiving from the pestiferous Exhalations of the Dead, than by burying\ntheir Carcasses in the Earth, and so removing such miserable Objects out\nof their sight; which seems clearly intimated by the aforesaid Example\nof _Abraham_, when, being in much trouble for the Loss and Death of\n_Sarah_ his _Delight_, he spake thus unto the Sons of _Heth_, Gen. 23.\n4. _Give me a Possession of a Burial-Place with you, that I may Bury my\nDead out of my Sight._ (LXX. \u03b8\u1f71\u03c8\u03c9 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1\u1f79\u03bd \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5, \u1f00\u03c0\u2019 \u1f10\u03bc\u03bf\u1fe6) where it is\nto be observ\u2019d, that he no longer calls her his Wife, but his Dead; as\nknowing that those alterations, which she must in a few Days inevitably\nundergo, would have deterr\u2019d him from the very Thoughts of her, if he\nhad not earnestly sought for and obtain\u2019d a _Burying-Place_, where he\nmight hide her out of his _Sight_.\n[Sidenote: Second Cause.]\nThis is to be look\u2019d upon as the _second Cause_ or _End of Burial_, to\nwit, that it being not only disagreeable to the dignity of our Nature,\nbut also occasioning great sadness of Mind, for the Living to see what\ndismal Accidents and Calamities befall the Dead, that we should free our\nselves from the Apprehensions and black _Idea\u2019s_ such Objects are\nnaturally apt to inspire, by removing them out of our Sight and Mind, by\na timely Sepulture: For as _Demosthenes_ said in a Funeral Oration,\n_Leniatur ita Luctus Eorum, qui Suis sunt Orbati_; _By this means the\nGrief of those, who are depriv\u2019d of their Friends, is alleviated_.\n[Sidenote: Thought more Beneficial to the _Living_ than the _Dead_.] So\nthat these two Reasons seeming to conduce more to the Benefit of the\nLiving than the Dead, it has given occasion to some to believe, that\nBurial was from thence invented, and of this Opinion was _Grotius_, who\nthus writes: _Hinc est, quod Officium Sepeliendi, non tam Homini, id\nest, Person\u00e6, quam Humanitati, id est, Natur\u00e6 Human\u00e6, pr\u00e6stari dicitur_;\n_For this Reason it is that the Office of Burial is said not to be paid\nso much to the Man_, viz. _To the particular Person, as to Humanity it\nself, that is, to Human Nature in general_. And St. _Austin_, Lib. 1.\n_De Civit. DEI_, cap. 12. and _Lib. De Cura pro Mortuis_, cap. 2.\naffirms, _Curationem Funeris, Conditionem Sepultur\u00e6, Pompas Exequiarum,\nmagis esse Vivorum Solatia, quam Mortuorum Subsidia_; that _The\nregulating and management of the Funeral, the manner of Burial, the\nMagnificence and Pomp of the Exequies, were devised rather as a\nConsolation to the Living than any Relief to the Dead_. But _Seneca_,\nLib. 1. _De Remed._ hath more plainly confirm\u2019d both the foregoing\nReasons, saying, _Non Defunctorum Causa, sed Vivorum inventa est\nSepultura, ut Corpora & Visu & Odore f\u0153da submoverentur_; _Burial was\nfound out not so much for the sake of the Dead as the Living, that by\nmeans thereof Bodies noisom both to Sight and Smell might be remov\u2019d_:\nTherefore _Andrew Rivet_, in his 19th _Exercise_, on the 23 Chap. of\n_Genesis_, commends _Sepulture_ as a laudable Custom, pertaining to\ncommon Policy and Honesty. Human Nature would be asham\u2019d to see Man, the\nMaster-Piece of the Creation, left unregarded or lye unburied and naked,\nexpos\u2019d to the Insults of all Creatures, and become a Herritage to the\nmost vile Worms and Serpents, or lye Rotting like Dung upon the face of\nthe Earth; so that if Pity and Compassion will not move our obdurate\nHearts to Bury him, the very Stench and Corruption of the Dead will\ncompel us to it. Hence _Chytr\u00e6us_:\n              _Corpus inane Anim\u00e6, tandem F\u00e6tore maligno,\n              A se abigit Cunctos_\u2014\u2014\n                A breathless Body, tho\u2019 our Pity fails\n                To make us Bury it, its Stench prevails.\nBy these two fore-going Causes of Burial appears yet a farther Benefit\nto Mankind, that they may live without that continual Terror of Death,\n[Sidenote: Frees from the _Terror_ of _Death_.] which is occasion\u2019d by\nseeing such miserable Emblems of Mortality. If you do but consider, when\nMen at first liv\u2019d dispers\u2019d, the very Abhorrence and Detestation of\nmeeting Dead Bodies, made them to remove such unpleasant Objects out of\ntheir sight: Afterwards, when they assembl\u2019d together and built Cities\nto dwell in, they used Burial for this Reason says _Lilius Gyraldus_,\nLib. _De var. Sepult. Ritu._ pag. 4. _That the Living might not be\ninfected by the most noisom stench of the Dead_. The before-going\nArguments for Interment have been deduc\u2019d from Natural and Political\nReasons, but the latter likewise relating to Physic, and particularly\nconducing to the Health and long Life of Man (since _The Art of\nEmbalming_ was not known in those Days) we will a little more accurately\nenquire into the pernicious Effects of _Putrefaction_, and the fatal\nConsequences that from thence ensue; for this being the most potent\nEnemy to Life, [Sidenote: From _Putrefaction_ the _Enemy_ of _Life_.]\nNature is very careful to expel it so soon as ever she perceives, by its\nodious Scents, its invisible Approaches: Nor can she endure the lesser\nill Scents of Sweat or Urine, or those Excrements of the Belly, which\nare necessarily produc\u2019d from the Aliments of the Body, but the Body it\nself as well as Spirits reject them; for this is to be observ\u2019d, that\nthe Excrements and Putrefactions of all Creatures smell worst and are\nmost offensive to their own _Species_, which we may see by Cats, which\nvoiding a more than ordinary fetid Dung, always take care to bury it.\nAnd such cleanliness of Living renders all Creatures the more Healthful,\nas we daily find by Birds, Pigeons, Horses, Dogs, _&c._ which thrive\nbest when their Houses, Stables and Kennels are kept sweetest. There is\nnot only an unhealthy, but oftentimes a secret poysoning Quality in the\nfetid Odours of a putrid Air, which are made so malignant by Bodies\ncorrupt and exposed therein; and thus, in several Countries, [Sidenote:\nFrom the _Plague_.] great Plagues have been occasion\u2019d only by the\nPutrefaction of prodigious swarms of dead Grasshoppers and Locusts cast\nup on heaps. Thus, the _Scripture_ testifies, the Land of _Egypt_ was\ncorrupted with Lice, Flies, Frogs and Locusts as a Punishment to\n_Pharaoh_: The Fish of the Rivers died, and the Waters stank; also there\nwas a Murrain among the Beasts, and a Plague of Boils and Blains among\nthe Inhabitants, _Exod._ chap. 7, 8, 9, 10.\nThe infectious Atoms of a putrid Air are so very subtile and invisible,\nthat they meet with an easie reception into the Brain and Lungs, as\noften as we breath, and thereby immediately occasion in the Brain either\nan Apoplexy or _Delirium_, a _Syncope_ to the Spirits, a general\nConvulsion of the Nerves, or else more slowly corrupt the Blood, by\nmixing with it in its passage thro\u2019 the Lungs, where they either produce\nImposthumes, Ulcers, Consumptions or _Hectic_-Fevers which prey upon the\nSpirits and Vitals, or bring Gangrenes to the extreamest Parts, or the\nSmall-Pox, Purple Fevers, and other malignant Distempers to the whole\nBody; nay, they too frequently prove the very principal Ingredient of\nthe Plague it self, that inexorable Spirit which so swiftly dispatches\nmany thousands of Souls to the other World.\n[Sidenote: The _Art_ of _Poisoning_ the _Air_.]\nThus Poison\u2019d _Air_, or _The Art of Empoisoning by Odours_, is more\ndangerous than Poison\u2019d Water, forasmuch as it is impossible Man should\nlive without Breathing, or subsist in an infectious Air, without a\nproper Antidote. This _Art_ has been effectually practis\u2019d by the\n_Indians_ in their Trafficks, and the _Turks_ in their Wars, and was\nparticularly us\u2019d by _Emanuel Comnenus_ towards the _Christians_, when\nthey pass\u2019d thro\u2019 his Country, in their way to the _Holy-Land_. This the\nLord _Bacon_ relates in the 10th Century of his _Natural History_, p.\n201. where he is of Opinion, That foul Smells, rais\u2019d by _Art_ for\nPoisoning the _Air_, consist chiefly of _Man\u2019s Flesh_ or _Sweat\nputrefied_, since those Stinks, which the Nostrils immediately abhor and\nexpel, are not the most pernicious, but such as have some similitude\nwith _Man\u2019s Body_, which thereby the easier insinuate themselves and\nbetray the Spirits. Thus in _Agues_, Spirits coming from _Putrefaction_\nof _Humours_ bred within the Body, extinguish and suffocate the _Natural\nHeat_, p. 74. The same effect is likewise to be observ\u2019d in\n_Pestilences_, in that the malignity of the infecting Vapour, daunts the\n_principal Spirits_, and makes them to fly and leave their _Regiment_,\nwhereby the _Humours_, _Flesh_ and _Secundary Spirits_ dissolve and\nbreak as it were in an _Anarchy_, Exper. 333. p. 74.\nAlso because the _Canibals_, in the _West-Indies_, eat _Man\u2019s Flesh_,\nthe same Author thought it not improbable, but that the _Lues Venerea_\nmight owe its Origin to that foul and high Nourishment, since those\nPeople were found full of the _Pox_ at their first Discovery, and at\nthis Day the most _Mortal Poisons_, practis\u2019d by them, [Sidenote:\nConsists partly of _Man\u2019s Flesh_, &c.] have a mixture of _Man\u2019s Flesh_,\n_Fat_ or _Blood_. Likewise the Ointments that _Witches_ have us\u2019d, are\nreported to have been made of the _Fat_ of _Children_ dug out of their\nGraves; and diverse _Sorceresses_, as well among the Heathens as\nChristians, have fed upon _Man\u2019s Flesh_, to help, as they thought, their\nwicked Imaginations with high and foul Vapours, _Exper._ 26. and 859.\nThe most pernicious Infection, next the _Plague_ or _Air Poison\u2019d by\nArt_, is the Smell of a _Goal_ where Prisoners have been long, close and\nnastily kept, whereof, says the Lord _Bacon_, we have in our Time had\nExperience twice or thrice, when both the Judges that sat on the Trials,\nand numbers of those that assisted, sickn\u2019d on the spot and Died,\n_Exper._ 914. The like would frequently befall those that visit\n_Hospitals_, and other such Places, where either the _Leprosie_, _French\nPox_ or _Malignant Fevers_ rage, were not the Attendants dayly\naccustom\u2019d to it, or did they not use proper _Antidotes_ to keep them\nfrom it. If therefore the morbid State of the Living only be so\npernicious to healthful Bodies, [Sidenote: _Air_ most _Infected_ by a\n_putrid Carcass_.] what Destruction must that _Air_ produce, which is\nreplete with the volatile Steams and Spirits, that issue from a dead and\nputrid Carcass?\n        \u2014\u2014_Sicut Grex totus in Agris\n        Unius Scabie cadit & Porrigine Porci,\n        Uvaq; conspecta Livorem ducit ab Uva._   says _Juvenal_.\n        From one infected Hog, Experience shows,               }\n        Thro\u2019 the whole Herd the dire Contagion goes;          }\n        Thus from one tainted Grape the Bunch corrupted grows. }\nFor every Thing in Nature easiest Corrupts that of its own kind. The\nReason of this is because it is _Homogeneal_, as is commonly seen in\n_Church-Yards_, where they bury much; for a Corps will consume in a far\nshorter Time there, than it would have done in another place where few\nhave been buried.\nIt therefore necessarily follows, that if the Dead were not inhum\u2019d,\nwhole Cities would Corrupt and be fill\u2019d with the _Plague_; and after\ngreat Battels, if the Dead should lie unbury\u2019d, whole Countries would be\ndestroy\u2019d; [Sidenote: _Sepulture_ defends from the _Plague_,] all which\nMischiefs are prevented by a timely _Sepulture_: For the Earth by its\nweight and closeness not only suppresses and dissipates the Vapours that\narise from a _putrid Carcass_, but also imbibes and sucks up the\n_stinking Gore_; and being a _Medium_ between that and the _Sun_,\nprevents the Beams of that Planet from suddenly exhaling such fetid\nOdours. [Sidenote: Likewise _preserves Bodies_.] Nay the Lord _Bacon_\nfarther assures us, That _Burying_ in the _Earth_, which is _cold_ and\n_dry_, serves for _Preservation_, _Condensation_ and _Induration_ of\n_Bodies_, as you may find in his 4th Century of his _Natural History_,\nExper. 376, 377. But this needs no farther Confirmation, since Bodies\nare dug up in every Age perfect and uncorrupt, which perhaps had been\nburied above 40 or 50 Years, and some have been found petrified to a\nperfect Stone, of which we shall discourse more hereafter, therefore\nwill at present proceed to acquaint you with other _final Causes_ or\n_Ends of Burial_.\n[Sidenote: Third Cause of _Burial_.]\nA _Third Cause of Burial_ is, That _Man\u2019s Body_ may not be torn to\npieces and devour\u2019d by savage Beasts, and Birds of Prey, which would be\na sight wholly unbecoming the Dignity of _Human Nature_, as _Seneca_\nobserves _Lib._ 6. De Beneficiis: _Inter maxima Rerum suarum_, says he,\n_nihil habet Natura, quo magis glorietur_. _Nature has nothing in the\nwhole Creation of which she may boast more than of Man_: So that it must\nneeds be a grievous Trouble and Concern to her to see the _Master-Piece_\nand _Perfection_ of all _Creatures_ become thus a Prey to the vilest of\nAnimals; and that he who whilst living had all of them under Subjection,\nso soon as ever his Spirit is separated from his Body, they should\nforget all Allegiance to their late Sovereign, and rebelliously Tear him\nto Pieces: Therefore we who are his Fellow-Creatures, and endu\u2019d with\nHumanity, take care to bury him out of the way of such Harpies; and\nought to perform all his Funeral Obsequies with the same Respect we were\nwont to show him whilst alive. Hence _Hugo Grotius_ is of Opinion, That\n_Burial_ was invented in respect to the Excellency of _Man\u2019s Body_.\n[Sidenote: Taken from the Excellency of _Man\u2019s Body_.] _Cum Homo c\u00e6teris\nAnimalibus pr\u00e6stet, indignum visum, si ejus Corpore alia Animantia\npascerentur, quare inventam Sepulturam, ut id quantum posset,\ncaveretur._ _Since Man excells all other Creatures, it was thought\nunworthy they should feed upon his Body; for which reason Sepulture was\nfound out, that this Mischief might be prevented as far as possible._\nLikewise _Lactantius_, Lib. 6. _Institut._ cap. 12. says, _Non patiemur\nFiguram & Figmentum DEI, Feris & Volucribus in Pr\u00e6dam jacere, sed\nreddamus id Terr\u00e6, unde ortum est_. _Let us not suffer the Image and\nWorkmanship of GOD to lie expos\u2019d as a Prey to the Beasts and Birds, but\nlet us return it back to the Earth from whence it had its Origin._\n[Sidenote: Accounted by us the Fourth _Cause_.]\nSo that we will account the _Fourth Reason for Burial_, to be the\n_Excellency of Man\u2019s Body_, to which we ought to show the greater Honour\nand Respect, in that it is the Receptacle of the _Immortal Soul_. Hence\n_Origen_, Lib. 8. _Contra Celsum_ says, _Rationalem Animam honorare\ndidicimus, & hujus Organa Sepulchro honorifice demandare_. _We have\nlearn\u2019d to Honour the Rational Soul, and respectfully to convey its\nOrgans to the Grave._ And thus St. _Austin_ very elegantly expresses\nhimself, _Lib._ 1. De Civit. DEI, _cap._ 13. _Si Paterna Vestis &\nAnnulus, vel si quid hujusmodi, tanto carius Posteris, quanto erga\nParentes Affectus major, nullo modo ipsa spernenda sunt Corpora, qu\u00e6\nutiq; multo familiarius, atq; conjunctius, quam qu\u00e6libet Indumenta\ngestamus._ _If we take so much the more care to preserve our Fathers\nApparel, Ring, and other Remainders of the like nature, as we bore an\nAffection to them, \u2019tis plain their Bodies are by no means to be\nneglected, which we wear closer and nearer to us than any Cloaths\nwhatever._\n[Sidenote: Fifth _Cause_ of _Burial_.]\nBut the _Fifth Cause_ and _ultimate End of Burial_ is in order to a\nfuture _Resurrection_, and as B. _Gerhard_ asserts, agreeable to that\nCompanion of _Christ_ and St. _Paul_ his Apostle, _John_ 12. 24. 1\n_Corinth._ 15. 37, 38. That Bodies are piously to be laid up in the\nEarth, like to Corn sowed, to confirm the assured Hope of the\n_Resurrection_: And therefore the _place_ of _Burial_ was call\u2019d by St.\n_Paul_, _Seminatio_, as others term it _Templi Hortus_, the _Churches\nOrchard_ or _Garden_. By the _Greeks_ it was call\u2019d, \u039a\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u1f75\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd,\n_Dormitorium_, a _Sleeping Place_. By the _Hebrews_, \u05d1\u05d9\u05ea \u05d7\u05d9\u05d9\u05dd,\n_Beth-chajim_, i. e. _Domus Viventium_, the _House of the Living_, in\nthe same respect as the _Germans_ call _Church-Yards_, =Gotsacker=,\ni. e. _DEI Ager, aut Fundus_, _GOD\u2019s Field_, in which the Bodies of the\nPious are sowed like to Grain or Corn, in expectation of a future\nHarvest. By these Appellations we are admonish\u2019d of the Resurrection of\nthe Body, and of the Immortality which is given by GOD to the Soul. _For\nas they that Sleep awake again, and as Christ who is the Head arose\nagain, so shall we who are his Members arise._ Hence _Calvin_\n(Commenting on _Isaiah_ 14. 18.) says, _The Carcasses of Beasts are\nthrown out, because they were Born to Putrefaction; but our Bodies are\ninterr\u2019d in the Earth, and being there deposited, expect the last Day,\nthat they may arise from thence to lead a Blessed and Immortal Life with\nthe Soul_. Also _Aurelius Prudentius_, a Christian Poet, rightly asserts\n_The Hope of the Resurrection to be the chief Cause why the greatest\nCare is taken of Burial_, whereof he has most excellently describ\u2019d\nevery particular Circumstance in a Latin Funeral Hymn, which being\nTranslated by Sir _John Beaumont_, Baronet, into 172 Verses, I will for\nbrevity sake refer you to _Weaver_\u2019s _Funeral Monuments_, pag. 25. where\nyou will find them inserted, and worth your Perusal.\n[Sidenote: Want of _Burial_ not prejudicial to the _Soul_.]\nNevertheless, we are not to think, tho\u2019 _Burial_ was ordain\u2019d by GOD as\na Work both pleasing and acceptable to him, and consequently approv\u2019d\nand practis\u2019d by all Men, that therefore the want of it, or any\nparticular Ceremony thereof, can any ways be prejudicial to a Christian\nSoul, as St. _Austin_ and _Ludovicus Vives_ his Commentator alledges,\n_Lib._ 1. De Civit. DEI, _cap._ 11. And that Complaint which the _Royal\nProphet_ makes, _Psalm_ 79. 3. _That there was none to bury the dead\nBodies of GOD\u2019s Servants_, was spoken rather to intimate their Villany\nthat neglected it, than any Misery to them that underwent it. \u2019Tis true\nsuch Actions may appear heinous and tyranous in the Eye of Man, but\nprecious in the Sight of the Lord is the Death of his Saints: Neither is\nour _Faith_ in his assured Promise so frail, as to think ravenous Beasts\nor Birds of Prey can any ways make the Body want any part at the\n_Resurrection_; but, on the contrary, we are well satisfied that in a\nMoment there shall be given such a new Restitution, not only out of the\nEarth, but out of the most minute Particles of all the other Elements,\nwherein any Bodies can possibly be included, that not a Hair of our\nHeads shall be missing. We read how the Bodies of the _Christians_\n(after great Battels, and the Sacking and Subverting of Towns and\nCities) stood in want of the Rights and Ceremonies of _Burial_, which\nneither is to be accounted any Omission in the living Christians, who\ncould not perform them, nor any Hurt to the Dead, who could not feel\nthem. We may, moreover, find in the History of Martyrs, and such like\nPersecutions, how barbarous and cruel Tyrants have raged over the Bodies\nof Christians, who, not content with tormenting them to Death several\nthousands of ways, still persever\u2019d with inhumanity to insult over their\nmangled Corps, and at length to shew their utmost Contempt, bury\u2019d them\nin the Bowels of rapacious Creatures, or what other ignominious ways\ntheir wickedness could invent. Nevertheless, we have all the reason to\nbelieve their Souls were receiv\u2019d into Heaven, and that their Bodies\nwill at the last Day be reunited intire to them again; after which,\nDeath will have no more Power over their Bodies than their Souls, but as\nSt. _Paul_ says, 1 _Cor._ 15. 44. _They will become Spiritual Bodies_.\n[Sidenote: Nor any kind thereof hurtful.] So that in this respect it\nmatters not after what manner the Body be destroy\u2019d, dissolv\u2019d or\nbury\u2019d, as _Tatian_ in his Book _Contra Gentes_ says, _Quamvis Caro tota\nIncendio absumatur tamen Materiam evaporatam Mundus excipit, quanquam\naut in Fluviis, aut in Mari contabescam, aut Feriis dilanior, condor\ntamen in Penu locupletis Domini_. _Altho\u2019 the Flesh be wholly consum\u2019d\nby Fire, yet the World receives the evaporated Matter, nay, altho\u2019 I am\nwash\u2019d to nothing in Rivers or Seas, or am devour\u2019d by wild Beasts, yet\nshall I be reposited in the Store-House of a most wealthy Lord._\nLikewise _Minutius F\u00e6lix_ in _Octavio_ has these Words: _Corpus omne\nsive arescit in Pulverem, sive in Humorem solvitur, vel in Cinerem\ncomprimitur, vel in Nidorem tenuatur, subducitur Bonis, sed DEO\nElementorum custodio reservatur_. _The Body whether it be dry\u2019d into\nPowder, resolv\u2019d into Moisture, reduc\u2019d to Ashes, or evaporated into\nAir, is indeed taken away from Good Men, but still the custody of the\nElements is reserv\u2019d to GOD._ Some have been accounted a rigid sort of\n_Stoicks_, and void of all Humanity, for this Reason only, because they\naverr\u2019d it profited nothing, whether the Body corrupted above or beneath\nthe Earth. Thus _Lucan_, Lib. 7.\n             \u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014_Tabesne Cadavera solvat\n             An Rogus haud refert: Placido Natura receptat\n             Cuncta Sinu, Finemq; sui sibi Corpora debent.\n             \u2014\u2014C\u00e6lo tegitur qui non habet Urnam._\n             Whether the Fire or Putrefaction\n             Dissolve \u2019em; all to Natures Bosom go,\n             Since to themselves their Ends the Bodies owe.\n             The Skie shall cover him who wants a Grave.\nAnd that Favorite-Courtier _Mec\u00e6nas_ was wont to say:\n              _Non Tumulum curo, sepelit Natura Relictos._\n            I value not a Tomb, Nature provides that for me.\nBut this these spoke only in respect to the Soul, which could receive no\nHurt nor Damage from the Bodies being cast out unbury\u2019d; therefore they\nseemingly ridicul\u2019d and despis\u2019d it, the better to fortifie Men against\nany fear of the want of Burial, yet they firmly believ\u2019d that all those\nwho were depriv\u2019d thereof, were the most miserable and wretched of\nCreatures, and that their Souls continually wander\u2019d, as _Virgil_\nelegantly expresses, _\u00c6neid._ 6. _v._ 325. where _\u00c6neas_ asking the\n_Cybil_ why such a number of Souls stood crowding near the Stygian Lake,\nand were refus\u2019d a Passage, he receiv\u2019d this Answer:\n _H\u00e6c Omnis, quam cernis, inops inhumataq; Turba est:\n Portitor ille, Charon: Hi, quos vehit unda, Sepulti.\n Nec Ripa datur horrendas, nec rauca Fluenta [Sidenote: Some have fear\u2019d\n    the want of it.]\n Transportare prius, quam Sedibus ossa quierunt.\n Centum errant Annos volitantq; h\u00e6c Littora circum,\n Tum demum admissi Stagna exoptata revisunt.\n Constitit Anchisa Satus, & Vestigia pressit,\n Multa putans, Sortemq; Animo miseratus iniquam\n Cernit ibi m\u00e6stos, & Mortis Honore carentes_, &c.\n      These Ghosts rejected, are the unhappy Crew\n      Depriv\u2019d of Sepulchers and Funeral due.\n      The Boat-Man, _Charon_; those the buried Host,\n      He Ferries over to the farther Coast.\n      Nor dares his Transport Vessel cross the Waves\n      With such whose Bones are not compos\u2019d in Graves.\n      A Hundred Years they wander on the Shore,\n      At length, their Pennance done, are wafted o\u2019er.\n      The _Trojan_ Chief his forward Pace repress\u2019d,\n      Revolving Anxious Thoughts within his Breast;\n      He saw his Friends, who whelm\u2019d beneath the Waves,\n      Their Funeral Honours claim\u2019d, and ask\u2019d their quiet Graves.\nSome again are induc\u2019d perhaps to think the care of Burial needless,\nbecause there is no Sense in a Dead Body, as the Proverb has it, _Mortui\nnon dolent_; and others reject it for this Reason, _Quia sentienti Onus\nest Terra, nihil sentienti, supervacaneum_. _For the Earth\u2019s a Burthen\nto him that is sensible of it, but none to him that is not._\n[Sidenote: Others have Despis\u2019d it.]\n_Diogenes_ the Cynic Philosopher, among the rest of his Whimsies,\ndespis\u2019d Sepulture, and when he was told he must thereby become a Prey\nto the Beasts and Birds, he gave them this jocose Advice, _Si id metues,\nponite juxta me Bacillum, quo abigam eos_. _If you fear that, place my\nStaff by me that I may drive them away._ _Quid poteris nihil sentiens?_\n_What can you do if you are sensible of nothing?_ Reply\u2019d his Friend. To\nwhich he answer\u2019d, _Quid igitur Ferarum laniatus oberit nihil\nsentienti?_ _If I am not sensible, how can their Teeth affect me?_ At\nother times he was wont to say on the like Occasion, _Si Canes meum\nlacerabunt Cadaver, Hyrcanorum nactus fuero Sepulturam, Si Vultures,\nIberiorum; quod si nullum Animal accederet, ipsum Tempus: Pulcherimam\nfore Sepulturam, Corpore pretiosissimis Rebus, Sole, inquam & Imbribus\nabsumpto_. _If the Dogs eat my Carcass, I shall have the Sepulture of\nthe_ Hyrcanians, _if Vultures, of the_ Iberians; _but if no Animal come\nnear me, then shall I be consum\u2019d by Time, and, What a fine sort of\nBurial must that needs be, to have my Body reduc\u2019d to Dust by two of the\nmost precious Things in Nature, the Sun and Showers?_ Likewise\n_Demonactes_ being told, if he were flung out unbury\u2019d, as he desir\u2019d,\nthe Dogs would tear him to pieces, he wittily answer\u2019d, _Quid incommodi,\nsi mortuus alicui sim usui?_ _What hurt can it do me, if after I am Dead\nI do somebody Good?_\n[Sidenote: In what Sense the _Philosophers_ slighted it.]\nIt may farther be ask\u2019d, Why _Plato_, _Aristotle_, and other\nPhilosophers, famous for Learning and Piety, despis\u2019d the Rites and\nCeremonies of Sepulture? To which I answer, They did not really Despise\nthem, nor durst they say they were not to be at all: They said only, if\nby chance they were neglected, it could do no hurt. Nor lastly did\n_Lucretius_ contemn Sepulture, he only laughed at those who procur\u2019d it\nfor this Reason, because they thought there still remain\u2019d a Sense in\nthe Dead, as you will perceive by these Lines of his, _Lib._ 3.\n           _Proin\u2019 cum videas, Hominem indignarier ipsum,\n           Post Mortem fore, ut aut putrescat Corpore posto;\n           Aut Flammis interfiat, Malisve Ferarum_, &c.\n        Now when you hear a Man complain and moan,\n        And mourn his Fate, because when Life is gone\n        His Limbs must waste, or rot i\u2019th\u2019 Earth, or feast\n        The greedy Flames, or some devouring Beast;\n        All is not well; He, by strong Fancy led,\n        Imagines Sense remains amongst the Dead;\n        Nor can I think, tho\u2019 He Himself denies,\n        And openly declares the whole Man Dies;\n        But that from strong Conceits he still believes,\n        Fond Fool, that He Himself, Himself survives:\n        For now e\u2019en whilst He breaths, e\u2019en whilst He lives,\n        And thinks He must be Torn or Burnt, He grieves;\n        Thinks still the Carcass must be He, and thence\n        His wanton Fears infer there must be Sense.\n        And hence He grieves that He was Born to Die,\n        Subject to treacherous Mortality:\n        But never thinks, fond Fool, that when kind Death\n        Shall close His Eyes in Night, and stop His Breath;\n        Then nothing of this thinking Thing remains\n        To mourn His Fate, and feel sharp Grief and Pains.\nHereby \u2019tis plain _Lucretius_ only blames and chides those who are of a\ndoubtful and wavering Mind, and that openly confess there can be no\nfuture Sense remaining after Death, yet privately hope within themselves\nthat some Parts will remain, and therefore mightily dread the want of\nBurial, nay, violently abhor being a Prey to wild Beasts and Birds. This\nI take to be a natural hint of the Resurrection of the Body and\nImmortality of the Soul, tho\u2019 outwardly these _Pagans_ disown\u2019d both:\n     _Eripe me his invicte Malis; aut tu mihi Terram\n     Injice, sic saltem placidis in Morte quiescam\n     Sedibus_, &c. as _Palinurus_\u2019s Ghost said to _\u00c6neas_, \u00c6ne. 6.\n         From lasting Miseries my wandring Soul relieve,\n         That she in pleasant Shades and perfect Rest may live.\nWe cannot believe there were ever any Philosophers in the World, of such\nobdurate Hearts, as strictly to deny Burial, tho\u2019 out of a seeming\nArrogance they despis\u2019d it; but that they only pretended so lest their\nAntagonists should think the want of Burial an inflicted Punishment,\ntherefore they were the easier mov\u2019d, as much as in them lay, to expose\nthem. [Sidenote: Why the _French_deny\u2019d it.] Thus _Pausanias_ in\n_Phocic._ gives an Instance of some _French_ who deny\u2019d Burial to the\nslain in Battel, alledging it was a Ceremony nothing to be esteem\u2019d of;\nbut the true Reason they did it was, That they might bring the greater\nTerror on their Enemies, and make them to have the worse Opinion of\ntheir Cruelty. It must be granted, the Dead have no sense of any Change\nor Dissolution they undergo, and that it is a ridiculous Opinion of\nTyrants, to think to punish the Body by mangling it, and delivering it\nto be torn to pieces and devour\u2019d; neither do Bodies suffer any Hurt or\nDamage in respect to the Soul, after what manner soever they are bury\u2019d:\nYet you must grant these sufficient Reasons why the Dead should be taken\ncare of, and not be despis\u2019d and cast away; for as we esteem the Body\nthe Temple of GOD, and Receptacle of the Soul, so ought we honourably to\nInterr it with those Funeral Obsequies as are becoming its Quality and\nDignity.\n[Sidenote: Right of _Burial_ grounded on the Law of GOD and Nature.]\nNow we must look upon Burial to be a Work enjoin\u2019d both by the Law of\nNature and Nations, and not only by the Human but by the Divine Law; for\nthe most Barbarous as well as Civiliz\u2019d People of the World have ever\npaid some Respect and Observance to their Dead, tho\u2019 perhaps after\ndifferent Manners, by Burying them in the Water, Earth, Air, Fire, _&c._\nThe common Dictates of Nature have taught them to abhor such dismal\nObjects and offensive Smells as dead Bodies must necessarily present,\nand their Religion has shown them the Inhumanity and Cruelty of\nneglecting their Duty to them: Nay, if we look into the Natural History\nof Animals, we shall find some of them excelling Man in this particular,\nby taking a more than ordinary Care of their Dead, as is to be seen not\nonly in Cranes, Elephants and Dolphins, _&c._ As _\u00c6lian de Animalibus_,\nLib. 2. cap. 1. and _Lib._ 12. _cap._ 6. and _Franzius_ in his History\nof Animals, _cap._ 4. _Peter Faber_ in his _Semestrium_, _Pliny_ and\nothers observe, but likewise in Ants, Bees and other Insects; for as\n_Grotius_ in his Treatise, _De Jure Belli & Pacis_, Lib. 11. cap. 19.\nrightly observes, [Sidenote: Observ\u2019d by Brutes, _&c._ as well as Men.]\n_Nullum est in Homine Factum laudabile, quin non Vestigium, in alio\naliquo Animantium Genere DEUS posuerit_. _There is nothing done by Man\nworthy of Commendation, but GOD has imprinted some Imitation of it even\nin Brutes._\nA Corps lying unbury\u2019d and Putrifying, is not only a dismal Aspect to\nour Eyes, offensive to our Nose, and ungrateful to all our External\nSenses, but even horrid in our very private Apprehensions and secret\nConceptions; nay to hear it but only nam\u2019d, is so very unnatural and\nunpleasant to us, that we care not to entertain the least Thought of\nDeath, even to the deferr\u2019d Time of our Expiration. What presence of\nMind can enable a Fellow-Creature to behold such a miserable Object as\nthis, express\u2019d by its dismal Aspect, deform\u2019d Proportion, f\u0153tid Smell,\nputrid Carcass, and the like, and this perhaps of one who was but just\nnow your Bosom-Friend or the World\u2019s Favorite, a Prince worthy of\nImmortality for his Wisdom, Piety, Valour, Conduct, _&c._ and justly\nadmir\u2019d for the Beauty of his Person, Gracefulness of his Mien, and\nConformity of all the External Parts of his Body, as well as Internal\nQualifications of his Mind? Certainly common Humanity and\nSelf-Preservation would alone persuade us to Inter him out of our Sight,\nor else preserve him from a State of Corruption and Deformity by\n_Embalming_.\n[Sidenote: By both to prevent infection, _&c._]\nI have before observ\u2019d how Beasts receiv\u2019d the Infection of the Murrain\nfrom a Putrefaction of their own Bodies; now I will shew you how they\nlikewise, by Natural Instinct, avoid each other in such like Calamities:\nThe Sound shun the Company of the Infected, and they reciprocally\nseparate from the rest to Mourn by themselves. A wounded Bird leaves the\nFlight: A Stag (when Shot) forsakes the Herd and flies to the Desarts:\nAnd every Diseas\u2019d Creature retires into some solitary Place, where its\nlast Care seems to be, that of providing for its Burial. [Sidenote:\nEvery Creature takes care of its own _Burial_.] Reptiles creep into\nHoles, and Birds into their Nests, or the Bottoms of thick Hedges:\nRabbets die in their Burrows: Foxes, Badgers and Wolves, _&c._ in their\nDens, after which nothing will Inhabit there. So that they seem to know\nthey shall lie undisturb\u2019d in those Dormitories, which they took care in\ntheir Lives Time to provide and dig in order to their Interment; like as\nsome Hermits, who, during their Lives, made their Cave their Habitation,\nbut when Dead their Tomb.\nThe larger sort of Domestic and Tame Creatures seem likewise to\nendeavour this, as much as they can, as may be observ\u2019d from Horses,\nOxen, Sheep, _&c._ who when they decline and draw near their Deaths,\nseek either the thickest part of a Wood, a Dell or Gravel-Pit in a\nCommon, or deep Ditch in a Field, where they may lay themselves down, as\nin a Grave, and die: They seem to desire nothing more of their Master,\nwhom they have all their Lives faithfully serv\u2019d, than to cover their\nBodies with the Earth.\nThe lesser Tame Animals, as Dogs, Cats, _&c._ know they have no occasion\nto take that Care of themselves, for when they die, their Master is\noblig\u2019d to remove them out of his House and bury them: [Sidenote: How\nInsects bury themselves.] But as for Insects, they (fearing Mankind\nshould be regardless of their inconsiderable Bodies, and not be so\ngrateful as to take care of their Funerals, tho\u2019 they had consum\u2019d their\nLives in making Food and Raiment for their Master) seem with a more\nextraordinary Contrivance, and admirable Art, to provide for their own\nBurial. The little Bee works its Honey-Comb for the Benefit of Man while\nit lives, and for its own Sepulture when it dies; the Comb serving for\nits Tomb, and the Wax and remaining Honey for its Embalment, conformable\nto that Saying of _Martial_, in his Fourth Book and Thirty Second\nEpigram:\n             _Et latet, & lucet Phaetontide condita Gutta,\n               Ut videatur Apis Nectare clausa suo:\n             Dignum tantorum Pretium tulit illa Laborum,\n               Credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori._\n              She lurks, she shines within her balmy Nest,\n              That there securely she may take her Rest;\n              For all her Labours past she asks but this,\n              That she may lye thus bury\u2019d when she dies.\nThe Silk-Worm (which also willingly parts with her Stock and Labour for\nthe Benefit of Mankind) makes a small reserve of Silk, sufficient for\nher Winding-Sheet, which when she has finish\u2019d, she dies therein, and is\nas nobly Interr\u2019d, as all the _Egyptian Art_, with its fine Painted\nRowlers of Cyprus, Lawn or Silk could make her.\nOther Insects, as Flies, Ants, Gnats, and the like, which are not\ndispos\u2019d with Organs to perform such Works, yet have this in particular,\nthat they can outdare the most resolute _Indian_ [Sidenote: Some are\n_Burn\u2019d_ and others _Embalm\u2019d_.] (when, without any previous\nExhortation, they suddenly leap into the Funeral Pyre of a Candle or\nTorch, and outvie the costly Embalming of _Arabia_) when they\nvoluntarily fly into liquid Amber, and by that means obtain a more noble\nand incorruptible Sepulture than any other Creature. These have had\nPoets to write Funeral Orations to their immortal Praise, as the two\nEpigrams in _Martial_ of a Viper and Pismire in some measure testifie,\n_Lib._ 4. _Ep._ 59. and _Lib._ 6. _Ep._ 15. Witness also _Brassavolus_\nof the Pismire, and _Cardanus_\u2019s _Mausoleum_ for a Flie: Nor could\n_Virgil_ (the Prince of Poets) omit taking notice of the well order\u2019d\nFunerals of the Bees, _Georg._ _Lib._ 4. _l._ 255.\n              \u2014\u2014_Tum Corpora Luce carentum\n              Exportant Tectis, & tristia Funera ducunt._\n      And crowds of Dead, that never must return                }\n      To their lov\u2019d Hives, in decent Pomp are born;            }\n      Their Friends attend the Herse, and near Relations mourn. }\n_\u00c6lian_, Lib. 5. cap. 49. reports, That if one Elephant finds another\ndead, he will not pass by \u2019till he has got together a great heap of\nEarth and flung it over his Carcass; so, in all other Creatures, Nature\nhas provided both Burial and a Grave for them. [Sidenote: Brutes Bury\u2019d\nwith Pomp and Magnificence.] Nay it is yet further remarkable, that such\nBrutes as have either prov\u2019d faithful or loving to their Masters, or\ndone any extraordinary Action, have been bury\u2019d with wonderful\nMagnificence, and had Tombs and Inscriptions made in Honour of them.\n_Cimon_ the _Athenian_ bury\u2019d those Horses he had been thrice a Victor\nwith in the _Olympick_ Games, with great Pomp near his own Sepulchre.\nAlso _Alexander_ the _Great_ made a magnificent Funeral for his Horse\n_Bucephalus_, building a City where he dy\u2019d, and calling it after that\nBeast\u2019s Name in memory of him. After his Example, several of the _Roman_\nEmperors and _C\u00e6sars_, such as _Augustus_, _Caligula_, _Nero_, _Adrian_,\n_Antoninus_, _Commodus_, &c. bury\u2019d their favourite Horses, and adorn\u2019d\ntheir Tombs with Epitaphs, as you may find in _Barthius_, Lib. 23. cap.\n8. _Pliny_, Lib. 8. cap. 22. Affirms such Horses as had conquer\u2019d at the\n_Olympick_ Games, were bury\u2019d and had Tombs and Pyramids erected to\nperpetuate their Fame.\n[Sidenote: Tombs and Epitaphs in Honour of Brutes.]\n_Xantippus_ carefully bury\u2019d his Dogs, and, as _Kornmannus_ reports,\n_Polliacus_ erected, in the Garden of Cardinal _Urbin_ at _Rome_,\nColumns of the finest Marble, of vast Expence, in Memory of his beloved\nBitch, on which he inscrib\u2019d this Epitaph:\n          _Quod potui, posui tibi, fida Catella, Sepulcrum;\n          Digna magis C\u00e6li Munere, quam Tumuli.\n          Candenti ex Lapide h\u00e6c tibi convenit Urna: fuisti\n          Candida tota Fide, candida tota Pilo.\n          Si C\u0153lum, ut quondam, Canibus patet, haud tua Terras\n          Incendet, sed Ver Stella perenne dabit._\n         My Faithful Bitch, to thee this Pile is meant;\n         More worthy Heaven than Mortal Monument:\n         Of whitest Stone \u2019tis fit thy Tomb I rear,\n         Since candid were thy Actions, white thy Hair.\n         If Heav\u2019n, as formerly, to Dogs gives Place,\n         [2]Thy Star will never scorch, but cherish Human Race.\nFootnote 2:\n  Alluding to the _Dog Days_.\nAlso in the House of that Famous _Italian_ Poet _Francis Petrarch_, at\n_Arqua_, near _Padua_, there is a Tomb of a Cat, adorn\u2019d with an Elegy,\nwhich _Santorellus_ in his _Post-Praxis Medica_, p. 5. has Printed, with\nothers of a Mule, a Crane, _&c._ _Pliny_, Lib. 10. cap. 43. says, a Crow\n(which imitated Human Voice, and which was wont every Morning to salute\nthe Senators by their Names) was bury\u2019d honourably, being carry\u2019d out on\nthe Shoulders of two _\u00c6thiopians_, with a Crown before it, and a Trumpet\nsounding; the Person that kill\u2019d it being ston\u2019d to Death. _\u00c6lian_, Lib\n6. _Animal._ cap. 7. tells us, _Marrhes_, King of _Egypt_, built a\nSepulchre for a Raven, which was wont to carry his Letters to and fro\nunder its Wing; and, _Lib._ 7. _cap._ 41. he says, _Lacydes_, a\nPeripatetic Philosopher, had a Goose which us\u2019d to follow him up and\ndown, both at home and abroad, and whom for that Reason he Bury\u2019d with\nthe same Honour and Respect as he would have done a Brother or Son. The\nStag which warr\u2019d against the _Trojans_, was also honour\u2019d with a Tomb;\nbut it were endless to relate all the Brutes the _Pagans_ have given\nBurial to, as _Rhodiginus_ witnesses in _Antiq. Lect._ 58. cap. 13. The\n_Parthians_ were accustom\u2019d to bury their Horses, and the _Molossians_\ntheir Dogs, as _Statius_ the Poet observes, _Lib._ 2. Sylvar. in\nEpicedio Pileti.\n             \u2014\u2014_Gemit inter Bella peremptum\n             Parthus Equum, fidosq; Canes flevere Molossi:\n             Et Volucres habuere Rogos, Cervusq; Maronis._\n           The _Parthian_ mourns his Horse in Battel slain;\n           For faithful Dogs _Molossians_ weep in vain.\n           Ev\u2019n Birds had Funeral Piles, and _Virgil_\u2019s Stag.\nBut the _Egyptians_ surpass\u2019d them all, for they Embalm\u2019d the Bodies of\nseveral Animals, as Cats, Crocodiles, Hawks and the like, that so they\nmight keep them the longer to adore and admire: If therefore _Pagans_\nhave been thus careful to honour Brutes with all the Rights of Burial,\nhow much more ought we who are _Christians_ to afford this last Duty to\none another?\nWe find in the first Age of the World, says _Cambden_, the Care of\nBurial was so great, that Fathers laid a strict Charge on their\nChildren, concerning translating their Bodies to their Graves, every one\nbeing desirous to return in _Sepulchra Majorum_, into the Sepulchres of\nhis Ancestors. Thus those Holy Patriarchs, _Abraham_, _Isaac_, _Jacob_,\n_Joseph_ and the rest, did not only lay the heaviest Commands about\ntheir being bury\u2019d, but also about transferring their Bodies to such\nPlaces as they nam\u2019d: So _Jacob_, at his Death, charg\u2019d his Son _Joseph_\nto carry his Body into the Sepulchre of his Fathers, _Gen._ 47. 30. and\n49. 29. And _Joseph_ commanded his Brethren they should remember and\ntell their Posterity, that when they went away into the Land of Promise,\nthey should carry his Bones along with them, _Gen._ 50. 25. Now this\nFilial Care was not only their last and greatest Duty to their Parents,\n[Sidenote: _Burial_ a Work acceptable to GOD.] but also a Work well\npleasing and acceptable to GOD; an Example whereof we have in _Tobit_,\nwho being blind, GOD sent his Angel _Raphael_ to cure him, as a Reward\nfor his pious Care in burying those who had been slain by King\n_Sennacherib_ in his wrath, and cast without the Walls of _Nineveh_: But\naltho\u2019 the King\u2019s Servants forceably took away his Goods, and sought to\nput him to Death; yet when he heard one more had been strangl\u2019d, and\ncast out into the Market-Place, he was so zealous in his Care, that tho\u2019\nhe was just set down to Meat, he tasted not of it, \u2019till he had fetch\u2019d\nhim up into a private Room, and when the Sun was set, he ventur\u2019d to\nmake a Grave and bury him. [Sidenote: To our Saviour.] Likewise our\nSaviour (being to rise again the Third Day) commended that good Work of\nthose Religious Women, who pour\u2019d pretious Ointments, with sweet Odours,\non his Head and Body, which they did in order to his Burial. Moreover,\nthe Gospel has crown\u2019d those with immortal Praise that took down\nChrist\u2019s Body from the Cross, and gave it honest and honourable Burial.\nThis signifies, says St. _Austin_, that the Providence of GOD extends\neven to the Bodies of the Dead (for he is pleas\u2019d with such good Works)\nand builds up a Belief of the Resurrection, by which, says he, we may\nlearn this profitable Lesson, _viz._ How great the Reward of Alms done\nto the Living must be, since this Duty and Kindness shown even to the\nDead is not forgotten of GOD.\n_Burial of the Dead_ was accounted by the Antients a Work of _Piety_ and\n_Religion_, because they esteem\u2019d it both an Act of _Justice_ and\n_Mercy_:\n[Sidenote: An Act of Justice.]\nOf _Justice_, in that Earth should be return\u2019d to Earth and Dust to\nDust; for, What could be more just than to restore to Mother Earth her\nChildren, that as she had furnish\u2019d them at first with a Material Being,\nFood, Raiment, Sustenance, and all things necessary, so she might at\nlast receive them again into her Bosom, and afford them lodging \u2019till\nthe Resurrection? [Sidenote: Of Mercy.] The Antients also thought it an\n_Act of Mercy_ to hide the Dead in the Earth, that the Organs of such\nDivine Souls might not be torn and devour\u2019d by wild Beasts, Birds, _&c._\n_Cicero_ in his Oration for _Quinctius_ calls Burial an _Act of\nHumanity_. [Sidenote: Of Humanity.] _Valerius Maximus_, Lib. 5. cap. 1.\n_Humanity and Mildness_. _Seneca de Benefic._ Lib. 5 cap. 20. _Humanity\nand Mercy_. _Ammianus Marcellinus_, Lib. 31. [Sidenote: Of Piety.] _A\nnecessary Office of Piety_; and St. _Ambrose_ in the beginning of an\nOration of his on the Death of the Emperor _Theodosius_, _The last and\ngreatest Office of Piety_. _Isocrates_ commending the _Athenians_ for\nthe great Care they took to bury their Dead, says, It was a mark and\ntoken of their Piety towards the Gods, since it was they and not Men\nthat had establish\u2019d that Law. Also _Servius_ observes _Virgil_ call\u2019d\n_\u00c6neas_ by the name of _Pious_, because of the Funeral Honours, he, with\nso much Care and Application, had always paid to his Relations and\nFriends. _Plato_ speaking of the several kinds of Justice, has not\nomitted what belongs to the Dead; nay _Aristotle_ thought it more just\nto help those that were depriv\u2019d of Life, than to assist the Living. The\n_Latin_ Phrase also intimates how just a thing it is to bury the Dead,\nwhere it calls Funeral Rites, _Justa Exequiarum_, or _Justa Funebria_,\n_quia justum est_, _justa facere_, _solvere_, _peragere_. Nay it has no\nother appellation in that Language than that of Justice, and in _Greek_\nof a lawful Custom, Piety and Godliness, so that amongst both the\n_Romans_ and _Grecians_, who have been the two most potent and civiliz\u2019d\nNations of the World, when they would express one had been Interr\u2019d,\nthey said, they had done him Right or Justice, and such as neglected to\ndo the like they accounted void of all Piety and Humanity.\n[Sidenote: Burial the Care of the Gods.]\nAnd to shew how Religious an Act it is to bury the Dead; the _Gentiles_\nassign\u2019d the Care of all Funerals and Sepulture to certain Gods they\nterm\u2019d _Manes_, whose chief was _Pluto_, call\u2019d also _Summanus_, whence\nall Tombs and Monuments came to be dedicated, _Diis Manibus_. _Homer_,\n_Euripedes_, _Aristotle_ and others have accounted Sepulture an Honour\nand Reward to Mens Actions; and on the contrary look\u2019d on all such as\nmiserable and unhappy whose Bodies lying unbury\u2019d, wanted that last\nHappiness.\n[Sidenote: An Honour to the Dead.]\nDecent Burial, with suitable Attendants of Kindred and Friends,\naccording to the Quality of the Person (says _Weever_ of _Funeral\nMonuments_, p. 25.) is an Honour to the Deceas\u2019d. _Hezekiah_, says the\nText, _slept with his Fathers, and they bury\u2019d him in the highest\nSepulchres of the Sons of David, and all Judah and the Inhabitants of\nJerusalem did him Honour at his Death_, 2 Chron. 32. 33. Thus in all\nAges Burial has been accounted an Happiness and Quiet to the Mind, and a\nFavour from GOD, whereas the want of it has been look\u2019d on as an Evil\nand Misery, a Curse and Punishment, a Disgrace and Ignominy.\n[Sidenote: An Happiness, Favour and Kindness.]\nFirst, In the Holy Scripture it is call\u2019d an Happiness, Favour and\nKindness: This was foretold by _Ahijah_, and to be shewn to _Abijah_, 1\nKings 14. 13. _And all Israel shall mourn for him, and bury him; for he\nonly of Jeroboam shall come to the Grave, because in him there is found\nsome good Thing towards the Lord GOD of Israel_, &c. It was accounted a\nGlory to be bury\u2019d in a Sepulchre, even to Kings who were laid up in\nstately Tombs and Monuments, as in their Beds, and thus the Prophet\n_Isaiah_ speaks, _Chap._ 14. _ver._ 18. _All the Kings of the Nations\nlye in Glory, every one in his own House._ By the same Prophet GOD\ncomforted _Zedekiah_ King of _Judah_ when he was taken Captive, telling\nhim he should never die in War or Battel, or be deny\u2019d Burial; but that\nthe King of _Babylon_ should give his People leave to bury him in an\nhonourable manner, and with such Solemnities as the burning of sweet\nOdours, _&c._ at his Funeral, as they were wont to use at the Exequies\nof their Kings, who liv\u2019d belov\u2019d of their Country, 2 _Chron._ 16. 14.\n_But thou shalt die in Peace_ (says _Jeremiah_ to him, _Chap._ 34.\n_ver._ 5.) _and with the Burnings of thy Fathers, the former Kings which\nwere before thee, so shall they burn Odours for thee, and lament thee_,\n[Sidenote: Especially in the Family-Sepulchre.]\nTo die a natural Death, to be lamented and bury\u2019d, and to lye in the\nSepulchre of their Fathers, was ever accounted a great Honour and\nHappiness among the antient _Jews_, for which the Scripture-Phrase,\nthroughout the Old Testament, is _Sleeping_, which implies lying at Rest\nand undisturb\u2019d as well as Dying. Thus, in 2 _Kings_ 8. 24. it is said,\n_And Joram slept with his Fathers, and was bury\u2019d with his Fathers in\nthe City of David_. And 9. 28. _His Servants carry\u2019d Ahaziah in a\nChariot to Jerusalem, and bury\u2019d him in a Sepulchre with his Fathers in\nthe City of David._ And _Cap._ 15. _ver._ 7. _So Azariah slept with his\nFathers_, &c. Also, _ver._ 22. and 28. of the same Chapter, and in many\nother places, as 1 _Kings_ 2. 10. _So David slept with his Fathers, and\nwas bury\u2019d in the City of David._ By all this it is to be observ\u2019d, that\nin this City was the usual Royal Burying-Place, where both _David_ and\nall his Successors, that were of any Note or Renown, were bury\u2019d. This\nappears likewise by 1 _Kings_ 11. 43. 2 _Chron._ 12. 16. and 14. 1. and\n16. 14. and 21. 1. _David_\u2019s Sepulchre was made of such durable\nMaterials, and so well kept and repair\u2019d by his Posterity, that it\ncontinu\u2019d \u2019till the Apostles Time (_Acts_ 2. 22.) which was the space of\nalmost 2000 Years.\n[Sidenote: Of which Deprivation is a Curse.]\nOn the contrary, to die an unnatural Death, and in another Country, as\nalso to be depriv\u2019d of the Sepulchre of ones Fathers or Ancestors, was\nalways esteem\u2019d a note of Infamy and a kind of Curse. Thus, in 1 _Kings_\n13. 22. the seduc\u2019d Prophet, because he disobey\u2019d the Word of the Lord,\nwas reprov\u2019d by him who was the occasion of his Error, as he had it in\nCommand from GOD, and withal told, _That his Carcass should not come\ninto the Sepulchre of his Fathers_. _Isaiah_ speaking in derision of the\nDeath and Sepulture of the King of _Babylon_, which was not with his\nFathers, in that his Tyranny was so much abhorr\u2019d, thus notes his\nUnhappiness, _Chap._ 14. 19, 20. _Thou art cast out of thy Grave, like\nan abominable Branch; and as the Raiment of those that are slain, thrust\nthro\u2019 with a Sword; and shall go down to the Stones of the Pit, as a\nCarcass trodden under Foot. Thou shalt not be join\u2019d with thy Fathers in\nBurial._ That is, he should want all the Honours of Sepulture, and all\nsuch Funeral Rites as were to have been paid to him as a most potent\nKing, and that he should not be admitted to lye in the Grave amongst his\nAncestors, but that his Corps should remain neglected above Ground\nunbury\u2019d, and be trodden to pieces like vile Carrion.\n[Sidenote: And the Judgment of GOD.]\nThe want of Burial proceeds also from a Judgment of GOD, as will appear\nfrom the Example of _Jehoiakim_, the Son of _Josiah_ King of _Judah_,\nwhom for his great Wickednesses, such as Covetousness, Oppression,\nshedding innocent Blood and the like, GOD threatned with the want of\nBurial (a severe Sentence!) and that he should have no solemn Funeral or\nhonourable Sepulture, such as Kings usually have, nay, not so much as an\nordinary Burial among the Graves of the common People, _Jer._ 26. 23.\nbut be cast out like Carrion in some remote Place: And _Chap._ 22. 19.\n[Sidenote: To be bury\u2019d like an Ass.] _He shall be bury\u2019d with the\nBurial of an Ass, drawn and cast forth beyond the Gates of Jerusalem_,\nthat is, as an Ass is wont to be bury\u2019d, he being more worthy the\nSociety of Beasts than Men. The _Greeks_ call the Burial of an Ass,\n\u1f04\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f71\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd, according to that Expression of _Cicero_, _Insepulta\nSepultura_; and _Sanctius_ expounds it, that to be bury\u2019d like an Ass,\nis to be cast out into a sordid and open Place, which neither covers the\nhorrid and obscene Parts of the Body, nor hinders the Dogs or Birds from\ntearing it to pieces, but as in _Chap._ 36. _ver._ 30. _His dead Body\nshall be cast out in the Day-Time to the Heat, and in the Night to the\nFrost_; that being so expos\u2019d, it may the sooner putrefie, and become\nthe more vile and loathsom; and that the sight of a King\u2019s Body, in such\na condition, should be an hideous Spectacle and horrid Monument of GOD\u2019s\nheavy Wrath and Indignation unto all that should behold it, _Isaiah_ 66.\n24. Wherefore _Ecclesiastes_ wisely concludes, _Chap._ 6. 3. _A Man had\nbetter have never been born than to have no Burial._ The People of\n_Israel_ (crying unto GOD against the barbarous Tyranny of the\n_Babylonians_, who spoil\u2019d GOD\u2019s Inheritance, polluted his Temple,\ndestroy\u2019d his Religion, and murther\u2019d his Chosen Nation) amongst other\nCalamities, thus complain for the want of Sepulture, _Psal._ 79. 2, 3.\n_The dead Bodies of thy Servants have they given to be Meat to the Fowls\nof the Heavens, the Flesh of thy Saints to the Beasts of the Earth.\nTheir Blood have they shed like to Water round about Jerusalem, and\nthere was none to bury them._ Here the Prophet observes, that GOD\nsuffers his Church sometimes to fall to great Extremities, to exercise\ntheir Faith before he delivers them; as at other times he deprives the\nWicked of Sepulture, to bring them to Repentance by such an ignominious\nand shameful Punishment. Thus, for the Pride and Wickedness of\n_Jezebel_, the Prophet _Elijah_ pronounces GOD\u2019s Vengeance against her,\nsaying, _In the Portion of Jezreel shall Dogs eat the Flesh of Jezebel,\nand her Carcass shall be as Dung upon the face of the Field, so that\nthey shall not say, this is Jezebel, and there shall be none to bury\nher_, 2 Kings 9. 10, 36, 37. [Sidenote: To become like _Dung_ rotting\nupon the _Earth_.] By the Comparison to Dung is shown how odious and\ncontemptible a Thing it is to be cast out unbury\u2019d, and to be trodden\nunder Foot, to lye expos\u2019d to the Air and Weather, to rot and stink or\nbecome Food to Birds, Beasts and Reptiles. _Jeremiah_ foretelling the\nDesolation of the _Jews_, acquaints them, _Chap._ 19. 7. _Thus says the\nLord of Hosts, I will cause them to fall by the Sword before their\nEnemies, and their Carcasses will I give to be Meat to the Fowls of the\nHeavens, and to the Beasts of the Field, and none shall fright them\naway_, Chap. 7. 33. _Deut._ 28. 26. Also speaking of their Kings,\nPrinces, Priests and Prophets, he tells them that _Their Bones shall be\nspread before the Sun and Moon_, &c. _they shall not be bury\u2019d, but be\nfor Dung upon the face of the Earth_, Jer. 8. 2. In other places of his\nProphesie he tells them, They shall die of grievous Deaths and Diseases,\nthey shall be neither bury\u2019d nor lamented, but lye rotting like Dung,\nand be Meat for the Fowls of the Heavens and Beasts of the Earth,\nof the Prophet _Ezekiel_ and the 17, 18, 19 and 20 Verses, GOD to shew\nhis severe Judgment, calls the Fowls of the Air and Beasts of the Field\nto a Sacrifice of the Flesh and Blood of the Princes of the Earth, to\neat their Fat and drink their Blood; abundance more Examples of the like\nnature the Scripture affords us.\nNext we will consider what a miserable thing it was esteem\u2019d, even by\nthe _Pagans_, to lye cast out unbury\u2019d. That disconsolate Mother of\n_Euryalus_, is not so much griev\u2019d for the loss of her Son, who was\nslain in Battel, as for that he should be made a Prey to the Birds and\nBeasts, whom therefore she thus bewails:\n             _Heu Terra ignota, Canibus data Pr\u00e6da Latinis\n         Cold on the Ground, and pressing foreign Clay,\n         To _Latian_ Dogs and Fowls he lyes a Prey.  _Dryden._\nAlso the same Poet represents _Tarquitus_ thus insulting over his\nconquer\u2019d Enemy, _\u00c6n._ 10. _v._ 557.\n            _Istic nunc, metuende, jace: non te optima Mater\n            Condet Humi, Patriove onerabit Membra Sepulchro;\n            Alitibus linquere Feris, aut Gurgite Mersum\n            Unda feret, Piscesq; impasti Vulnera lambent._\n          The vengeful Victor thus upbraids the Slain:\n          Lye there, Inglorious, and without a Tomb,\n          Far from thy Mother and thy Native Home;\n          Expos\u2019d to salvage Beasts and Birds of Prey,\n          Or thrown for Food to Monsters in the Sea.\nSo great was the Honour of Sepulture amongst the _Pagans_, says\n_Quenstedt_, _De Sepult. Vet._ p. 24. [Sidenote: Sepulture deny\u2019d\nEnemies out of Revenge.] That when they design\u2019d to shew the greatest\nEnvy and Reproach to their most inveterate Enemies, they depriv\u2019d their\nBodies of Sepulture, as is noted in the History of the Heroes in\n_Homer_, in the War between _Polynices_ and _Eteocles_ the _Theban_, and\nother antient Histories, as likewise in _Claudian_, _De Bello Gild._ v.\n39. Now _Mezentius_ fearing this, does not desire _\u00c6neas_ to spare his\nLife, but earnestly entreats him to afford him Burial, _Virg._ _\u00c6neid_,\n          _Nullum in C\u00e6de Nefas, nec sic ad Pr\u00e6lia veni;\n          Unum hoc, per, si qua est Victis Venia Hostibus, oro\n          Corpus Humo patiare tegi_, &c.\n          Nor ask I Life, nor fought with that design;\n          For this, this only Favour let me sue,\n          (If Pity can to conquer\u2019d Foes be due;)\n          Refuse it not; but let my Body have\n          The last retreat of Human Kind, a Grave.  _Dryden._\n_Turnus_ also intreats the like Favour:\n               _Et me, seu Corpus spoliatum Lumine mavis,\n               Or if thy vow\u2019d Revenge pursue my Death,\n               Give to my Friends my Body void of Breath?\n[Sidenote: Sepulture strictly observ\u2019d in War.]\nHowever, generally speaking, Sepulture was observ\u2019d as well in Time of\nWar as Peace, to which purpose Heralds or Embassadors were wont to be\nsent to make Truce \u2019till they could bury their Dead; which if deny\u2019d,\nsays _Grotius_, the Antients thought their War more lawful and just.\nThus _Hannibal_, a sworn Enemy to the very Name of _Romans_, is said by\n_Livy_, _Decad._ 3. _Lib._ 2. to have sought the Bodies of _Caius\nFlaminius_, _Tiberius Gracchus_ and _Marcellus_ Roman Generals,\nconquer\u2019d and slain by him, that he might bury them. Likewise _Philip_\nof _Macedon_ is equally to be commended for his Humanity, in performing\nFuneral Rites and Ceremonies towards his deceas\u2019d Enemies; of which see\n_Peter Faber_, Lib. 3. _Semestr._ cap. 13. p. 183. who also gives the\nlike account of his Son _Alexander_, in that after he had overcome\n_Darius_, he granted leave to his Mother to bury him after what manner\nshe pleas\u2019d, and withal commanded the same Honour to be afforded the\n_Persian_ Nobles; as also that all such Soldiers as were found slain\nshould be bury\u2019d with care, as is recorded by _Q. Curtius_, Lib. 3.\n_Valerius Maximus_ likewise, _Lib._ 9. _cap._ 8. tells us the\n_Athenians_ so strictly observ\u2019d this Custom in their Wars, [Sidenote:\nGenerals put to Death for neglecting it.] that they punish\u2019d those\nGenerals with Death that neglected to bury the Slain, tho\u2019 otherwise\nthey were Men of Valour and had done several extraordinary Exploits.\n[Sidenote: Others have perform\u2019d it with great Care.] _Plutarch_ in his\nLives, informs us how careful _Nicias_, an _Athenian_ General, was in\nthis point, for he commanded his whole Army to halt, while he honour\u2019d\ntwo slain Soldiers with Burial and a Tomb. The like pious Care is\nmention\u2019d of _\u00c6neas_ to _Misenus_, by _Virgil_ in his 6th _\u00c6neid_, _v._\n               _At pius \u00c6neas ingenti Mole Sepulchrum\n               Imponit, suaq; Arma Viro, Remumq; Tubamq;_\n        But good _\u00c6neas_ order\u2019d on the Shore                 }\n        A stately Tomb, whose Top a Trumpet bore,             }\n        A Soldier\u2019s Faulchion, and a Seaman\u2019s Oar.  _Dryden._ }\nThe _Romans_ in general as well as the _Grecians_ carefully bury\u2019d their\nEnemies, nor would they defraud them of any Funeral Rites, says\n_Suidas_. The like _Rhodiginus_, _Lect. Antiq._ Lib. 17. testifies of\nthe _Hebrews_, by whose Law the Enemy was not to be left unbury\u2019d. Nor\nmust we pass by the Humanity of the Northern People, who as _Olaus\nWormius_ in _Monument. Danic._ Lib. 1. cap. 6. writes, thought it\ndeserving the greatest Praise, to exercise this Hospitable Piety of\nburying the Carcasses of their Enemies, to whom they bore no farther\nMalice after their Deaths, but afforded them friendly Sepulture. Amongst\nothers, an Example of this nature is fetch\u2019d out of _Saxo_, a most\neloquent _Danish_ Historian, who in the Third Book of his History, which\nhe wrote about 500 Years ago, introduces _Collerus_ pronouncing this\nwise and elegant Oration to his Enemy _Horvendillus_, with whom he was\ngoing to engage in Fight:\n_Quoniam_, says he, _Exitus in dubio manet, invicem Humanitati\ndeferendum est, nec adeo Ingeniis indulgendum, ut Extrema negligantur\nOfficia. Odium in Animis est adsit tamen Pietas, qu\u00e6 Rigori demum\nopportuna succedat, nam etsi Mentium nos Discrimina separant, Natur\u00e6\ntamen Jura conciliant. Horum quippe Consortio jungimur, quantuscunq;\nAnimos Livor dissociet. H\u00e6c itaque Pietatis nobis Conditio sit, ut\nVictum Victor Exequiis prosequatur. His enim suprema Humanitatis Officia\ninesse constat, qu\u00e6 nemo Pius abhorruit. Utraq; Acies id Munus, Rigore\ndeposito concorditer exequatur. Facesset post Fatum Livor, Simultasq;\nFunere sopiatur. Absit nobis tant\u00e6 Crudelitatis Specimen, ut quanquam\nVivis Odium intercesserit, Alter alterius Cineres persequatur. Gloriosum\nVictori erit, si Victi Funus magnifice duxerit; nam qui defuncto Hosti\nJusta persolverit, superstitis sibi Favorem adsciscit, vivumq;\nBeneficiis vincit, quisquis extincto Studium Humanitatis impendet._\nWhich may be thus English\u2019d: _By reason the Event of what we are going\nabout is doubtfull, let us mutually engage to shew Humanity to each\nother, nor so far indulge our Passions as to neglect the last Duties. We\nhave Malice in our Hearts, let there be likewise such a Piety as may\nopportunely succeed our Rigour; for tho\u2019 a difference in our Minds\nhappens to divide us, the Law of Nature will reunite us. Tho\u2019 we are\nnever so far seperated by Envy, this will bring us together again. Let\nit therefore be the Condition of our Piety, that the Conqueror follow\nthe Herse of the Conquer\u2019d. Herein the last Offices of Humanity consist,\nwhich no good Man ever yet refus\u2019d. Let both Armies then suspend their\nHatred to perform this Duty. After Death let Envy be remov\u2019d and secret\nPrejudice disarm\u2019d. May every kind of Cruelty forsake us, tho\u2019 living we\nhated each other, let us lovingly accompany one anothers Ashes. \u2019Twill\nbe a Glorious Thing in the Victor Magnificently to Interr the\nVanquish\u2019d; for he that performs Funeral Rites to a slain Enemy, will be\nsure to have a surviving Friend, and whoever employs his Study in\nHumanity towards the Dead, cannot thereby fail of obliging the Living._\n[Sidenote: The Ancients fear\u2019d Sea-Burial.]\nThus have the Ancients always provided for their Funerals, in case they\nwere slain in Battel; but when they dy\u2019d at Sea, then were they\ndestitute of all such hopes, therefore dreaded that Element for fear\nthey should become a Prey to Fish or any Marine Monster, which was a\ngreat check and damp to their Spirits in an Engagement, Storm or the\nlike. Both the _Greek_ and _Roman_ Hero\u2019s, who fear\u2019d not Death in\nLand-Fights, as hoping the same Place where they fought might afford\nthem a peaceful Grave, were yet mightily concern\u2019d and dismay\u2019d at the\nthoughts of a Naval-Combat, or when they were in danger of Shipwrack,\nand this because they then saw themselves on the point of being for ever\ndepriv\u2019d of Sepulture. Thus _Achilles_, who brav\u2019d all manner of\nDangers, could not, as _Homer_ confesses, keep himself from being\ndaunted at that of Shipwrack, when he found himself ready to bulge in\nthe River _Xanthus_. A like Fear of _Scipio_\u2019s, the greatest Captain the\n_Romans_ ever had, _Silius Italicus_ mentions, who tells us, tho\u2019 he had\nso many Times, without the least concern or dread, seen Rivers of Blood\nrunning down, yet was he most terribly affrighted in passing the River\n_Trebia_, where he saw himself in danger of drowning. The same account\n_Statius_ gives of _Hippomedon_, who, as he says, could without any\nTrouble have presented his Body to the dint of a thousand Swords, yet\nwas not able to abide the Thoughts of being cast away in the River\n_Theumesia_. Also that stout General _\u00c6neas_, tho\u2019 he fear\u2019d neither\nFire nor Sword, yet was so afraid of Water, that being like to sink in a\nStorm, he thus exclaims:\n            _Extemplo \u00c6ne\u00e6 solvuntur Frigore Membra.\n            Ingemit, & duplices tendens ad Sydera Palmas,\n            Talia Voce refert: O terq; quaterq; beati,\n            Queis ante Ora Patrum, Troj\u00e6 sub M\u0153nibus altis,\n            Contigit oppetere._  \u00c6neid, _Lib._ 1. _v._ 96.\n     Struck with unusual Fright, the _Trojan_ Chief\n     With lifted Hands and Eyes, invokes Relief:\n     And thrice and four Times happy those, he cry\u2019d,\n     That under _Ilian_ Walls, before their Parents, dy\u2019d.\nIn a Word, this was the Death _Ovid_ could by no means brook, and that\nupon this score only, that it would deprive him of Burial:\n             _Non Lethum timeo, Genus aut miserabile Lethi:\n             Demite Naufragium; Mors mihi Munus erit.\n             Est aliquid, Fatove suo, Ferrove cadentem\n             In solida moriens, ponere Corpus Humo:\n             Est mandata suis aliquid sperare Sepulchra,\n             Et non \u00e6quoreis Piscibus esse Cibum._\n            I fear not Death, nor value how I die;\n            Free me from Seas, no matter where I lye.\n            \u2019Tis somewhat, howsoe\u2019er one\u2019s Breath depart,\n            In solid Earth to lay one\u2019s meaner Part;\n            \u2019Tis somewhat after Death to gain a Grave,\n            And not be Food to Fish, or sport to ev\u2019ry Wave.\n[Sidenote: For what Reason.]\nThe _Ancients_ fear\u2019d to die at Sea, because dead Bodies, being toss\u2019d\nto and fro with the Winds and Waves, were often dash\u2019d against Rocks,\nand never lay at rest, nay, perhaps were at last devour\u2019d by greedy\nFish, or torn to pieces by the sharp Talons and Beaks of Sea-Fowls;\nwhereas to rest in the Grave was accounted the greatest Happiness\n(whence Sepulchres came to be call\u2019d, _Requietoria_) but to be depriv\u2019d\nof it the greatest Misery and Punishment, nay the vilest Ignominy and\nDisgrace.\n[Sidenote: Want of Burial a Punishment.]\nTo want the Honour of Burial was held among the _Egyptians_ one of the\ngreatest Punishments could be inflicted, wherefore they deny\u2019d it to\nexecuted Criminals, whose Bodies they gave to the Birds and Beasts, as\nmay not obscurely be gather\u2019d from _Joseph_\u2019s Interpretation _Gen._ 40.\n19. thus speaking to the chief Baker, _Within three Days shall Pharaoh\nlift up thy Head from off thee, and shall hang thee on a Tree, and the\nBirds shall eat thy Flesh_, &c.\nHence it was the _Greeks_, either refus\u2019d all manner of Sepulture, or at\nleast decent Burial, to Infamous Persons, or such as had committed any\nNotorious Crime. Thus they burned not those, according to Custom, who\nkill\u2019d themselves, but bury\u2019d them in an obscure, ignoble Place, without\nany Funeral Ceremonies, Tomb or Inscription. _Diodorus Siculus_, Lib.\n16. _Bibl._ cap. 6. relates, It was enacted by Law, that one convicted\nof Treason or Sacriledge should be cast out unbury\u2019d; which Persons also\nby the _Athenian_ Laws were prohibited Burial in _Athens_, as _Xenophon_\ntells us, _Lib._ 1. \u1f19\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd. _Pausanias_ likewise says the _Arcadians_\ncast out unbury\u2019d, without their Territories, the Traytor\n_Aristocrates_, whom they had ston\u2019d to Death. Among the _Romans_, those\nthat kill\u2019d themselves were prohibited all manner of Sepulture, either\nthat others might thereby be deterr\u2019d from so making away with\nthemselves, or because they thought it unreasonable any Hands should be\nemploy\u2019d to bury him, whose own had destroy\u2019d himself. _Tarquinius\nPriscus_ order\u2019d all such dead Bodies to be fix\u2019d on a Cross, to be\nview\u2019d by all the Citizens, and afterwards to be devour\u2019d by Birds,\n_&c._ as _Pliny_ relates in his _Natural History_, Lib. 36. cap. 15.\n_Albertus Leoninus_ in his _Process. Criminal._ says, If any one kill\u2019d\nhimself (as being either weary of a tedious Life, or impatient of Pain\nor Trouble, or else to avoid condign Punishment, or for any other Cause\nwhatsoever) his Body was cast out upon a Dunghill, to have a common\nSepulture with Dogs, _&c._ but however it was more customary to have his\nGoods confiscated, and his Body hung on the _Furca_. The _Milesian\nVirgins_ were deterr\u2019d from hanging themselves by a Law of the Senate,\nthat Self-Murderers should be deny\u2019d Burial, and have their Bodies\ndragg\u2019d naked thro\u2019 the Streets, in the same Rope they had hang\u2019d\nthemselves with. All such Persons as were hung upon this _Furca_ or\nGibbet, were by the Laws deny\u2019d Sepulture, and a Centry, says\n_Petronius_, was set to watch them, lest any Body should take them down.\n[Sidenote: Burial deny\u2019d to others.]\nHence also, according to the common custom of _Germany_, &c. the Bodies\nof such as were Traytors, Highwaymen, Murderers, _&c._ were either fix\u2019d\nupon Poles, set up on Wheels, or hung upon Gibbets, there to remain a\nPrey to ravenous Birds, or else to corrupt with the Sun and Rain, and\ndissolve into a putrid and stinking Gore, and all this to the end that\nothers, by such an horrid and deform\u2019d Spectacle, might learn to fear\nand be deterr\u2019d from such like Crimes. He that commits Treason is by our\nLaws adjudg\u2019d, says _Weever_ in his _Funeral Monuments_, p. 22. to be\nhang\u2019d, drawn and quarter\u2019d, and his divided Limbs to be set up on Poles\nin some eminent Place, within some great Market-Town or City. He\nlikewise that is found guilty of the crying Sin of Murder, is usually\nhang\u2019d up in Chains, there to continue \u2019till his Body shall be consum\u2019d,\nand this at or near the Place where the Fact was committed. Likewise we\nare accustom\u2019d to bury such as lay violent Hands upon themselves, in or\nnear the Highways, with a Stake thrust thro\u2019 their Bodies, and this to\nterrifie all Passengers by that so infamous and reproachful Burial, not\nto make away with themselves. Those that are found guilty of other\ncriminal Matters, after a little hanging, are cut down and indeed\nbury\u2019d, yet seldom in a Christian manner, or in the Sepulchre of their\nFathers, unless their Fathers like them happen to have their Graves near\nor under the Gallows. [Sidenote: Difference between Ecclesiastic and\nCriminal Burial.] Hence the _Canonists_, says _Quenstedt_, _De Sepult.\nVet._ p. 49. distinguish between Ecclesiastic or Decent Burial, and\nCriminal or Ignominious: They call that Decent to which Solemnities,\nRites and Ceremonies are allow\u2019d according to the Custom of the Country,\nbut term that Ignominious which is without Decency, and where all manner\nof Ceremonies are omitted, nay they have not so much as the Tolling of a\nBell, or a Prayer or Psalm us\u2019d for them.\n[Sidenote: Some sort of Burial a Punishment.]\nThus, as some Criminals have been deny\u2019d Christian Burial, as an\nignominious Punishment, so others by reason of more heinous Offences\nhave been bury\u2019d alive: _Korah_, _Dathan_ and _Abiram_ for murmuring and\nrebelling against _Moses_ were swallow\u2019d up alive by the Earth, _Numb._\n16. 30, 33. _They and all that appertain\u2019d to them, went down alive into\nthe Pit, and the Earth clos\u2019d upon them_: But they were not only bury\u2019d\nalive, and after that manner descended into a Sepulchre, but likewise\ninto Hell, as some Commentators observe, for an eternal as well as\ntemporal Punishment. The _Vestal Virgins_ being defil\u2019d, suffer\u2019d this\nPunishment as the most miserable that could be inflicted; for the\n_Romans_ in case of this Crime, bury\u2019d them alive in the _Campus\nSceleratus_, as _Plutarch_ in _Vita Num\u00e6 Pompilij_ observes, and we read\nin _Constitut. Crim. Caroli_, p. 131. the same was inflicted on such as\nkill\u2019d their Children.\nTo be deny\u2019d all manner of Burial, or to be bury\u2019d dishonourably or\nalive, have ever been thought severe Punishments; [Sidenote: To be dug\nout of the Grave both a Curse and Punishment.] so likewise to be dug up\nagain, after Christian Burial, is a shameful Disgrace and equally\nIgnominious. Thus in contempt of the deceas\u2019d wicked Priests, King\n_Josiah_ took their Bones out of their Sepulchres and burn\u2019d them, 2\n_Kings_ 23. 16. Also the Prophet _Jeremiah_ foretold the _Jews_ how GOD\nwould bring out of the Grave the Bones of their Kings, Princes, Priests\nand Prophets, and expose them to the Sun and Moon, _&c._ _Chap._ 8. _v._\n1, 2. In prophane History it is reported of _Sylla_ the Dictator, that\nhe dug up the Bones of _Caius Marius_, and commanded them to be flung\ninto the Sea; wherefore when he dy\u2019d himself, he order\u2019d his own Carcass\nto be burn\u2019d, that his Bones might not have the like ill Treatment from\nhis Enemies, _Pliny_\u2019s Natural History, _Lib._ 7. _cap._ 54. Such\ndisturbing the Deceas\u2019d in their Tombs, I look upon to have given the\nfirst occasion of burning Dead Bodies, yet I think this latter as\nobnoxious to ill Usage, since it would be a less difficult matter to\ndeprive Urns of their Ashes, scatter them before the Wind, sow them in\nthe Sea or barren Sands, or in a word, make a Paste of them to feed\nFowls with, or a Compost, out of which might be form\u2019d ridiculous\nImagery, to make sport for Children, or diversion for Men. An Example of\nboth these kinds of the violation of the Dead, has been known to be\nacted either out of Malice to Enemies, or as a Punishment to Oppressors\nand Tyrants. The one is conspicuous from what _Saxo Grammaticus_ relates\nin the Fourth Book of his History, that the Body of one _Fengo_ a\nTyrant, being judg\u2019d worthy neither of an Urn nor Sepulture, his Ashes\nwere order\u2019d to be dispers\u2019d by the Winds, for it was not thought\nreasonable that Country should protect his Ashes which he had depriv\u2019d\nof its Liberty. The other is confirm\u2019d by the Usage of the _Roman_\nEmperor _Vitellius_, who as _Suetonius_ reports, _cap._ 17. after\nvarious Mockeries, was dragg\u2019d to the _Gemoni\u00e6_, cut into very small\npieces, and afterwards flung into the _Tyber_. _Heliogabalus_ likewise\nwas first dragg\u2019d about the Streets of _Rome_, then thrown into a Common\nShoar, and soon after into the _Tiber_, as _Sextus Aurelius Victor_ and\n_Lampridius_ relate.\nThere was another sort of Sepulture us\u2019d antiently, _viz._ To be cover\u2019d\nover with a great heap of Stones, which was accounted by the _Jews_ an\nignominious kind of Burial, [Sidenote: Another ignominious Burial.] and\ntherefore only us\u2019d to Malefactors, Rebels, _&c._ Thus we read when\n_Joshua_ had taken _Achan_, he commanded his People to stone him to\nDeath, and raise over him a great heap of Stones, _Chap._ 7. _v._ 25,\n26. Likewise _Joshua_ commanded his Servants to take down the Body of\nKing _Ai_, whom he had hang\u2019d on a Tree, and cast it without the\nCity-Gate, raising over it a great heap of Stones, _Chap._ 8. _v._ 29.\nThus were the _Jews_ wont to bury such as dy\u2019d ignominiously, that it\nmight serve as a Monument to warn others from committing the like\nOffences. Nor was _Absalom_ thought worthy of common Sepulture, much\nless of the Honours he had design\u2019d for himself, by the Pillar he had\nrais\u2019d, but was flung into a Pit, and pil\u2019d over with great heaps of\nStones, that the Place might be remark\u2019d by the Name of such a\ndisobedient Son and notorious Rebel, 2 _Samuel_ 18. 17. also that his\nignominious Death might be suited with a like Burial; for altho\u2019, in his\nLife-Time, he had built a Pillar (like one of the Pyramids or Obelisks\nof the Kings of _Egypt_) in the King\u2019s Dale, _ver._ 18. a very pleasant\nand fruitful Place, where the Kings us\u2019d their Sports and Recreations,\nand a great Concourse of the Nobility every Day resorted; there, to shew\nhis Pride and vain Glory, rais\u2019d he this Pillar, that after his Death it\nmight serve as a Monument to eternize his Memory, yet GOD depriv\u2019d him\nof so noble a Sepulture, and afforded him no other than to be bury\u2019d in\na great Pit, under a huge heap of Stones, as a common Malefactor.\n[Sidenote: And a Curse.]\nNow thus to be bury\u2019d was accounted a Curse, as is confirm\u2019d by\n_Lamentations_ 3. 53. and _Ezekiel_ 32. 29, 30. From hence we infer,\nthat if some kinds of Burial denote a Curse and Disgrace, as well as not\nbeing bury\u2019d at all, Funeral Ceremonies and Expences are necessary to\nshew what Burial is Honourable and what Ignominious: Otherwise, if we\nshould find a Carcass unbury\u2019d and expos\u2019d to the Air, or see a Grave in\nthe Highway or other Place, where Burial was not us\u2019d, we should be apt\nto reflect on this disgraceful Object, and from thence judge the Person\nto have been either some notorious Criminal, a Self-Murderer, or at\nleast one that had dy\u2019d some ignominious Death, and had been accordingly\nbury\u2019d: Therefore, to avoid all such like Censure, it is convenient\nBurial should not only be distinguish\u2019d between such as have liv\u2019d\npiously or prophanely, between those that have propagated the Laws and\ngood Constitutions of a Country, and such as have wickedly destroy\u2019d\nthem, but even amongst honest People themselves, according to their\nQualities, Estates and Professions; for should a Cobler and a Prince be\nbury\u2019d after the same manner, such Extravagancies would bring reflection\nand contempt on Burial in general, and they might say with the Poet:\n             _Marmoreo Licinus Tumulo jacet, at Cato parvo;\n             Pompeius nullo: Quis putet esse Deos?_\n         Worthless _Licinus_ in a rich Tomb lies,            }\n         Whilst the great _Cato_ for a poor one dies;        }\n         _Pompey_ for none: Who\u2019d think the God\u2019s were wise? }\nHaving thus sufficiently shown and prov\u2019d, that both according to the\nLaws of GOD and Man, the Bodies of the Just are not to be despis\u2019d or\ncast out unbury\u2019d, I will in the next place acquaint you with other\nParticulars, [Sidenote: Particular Ceremonies of Funerals, not to be\nneglected.] which are necessary to Funerals, without which a Prince\u2019s\nInterment would be as ignoble as a Malefactor\u2019s; nor are we to think a\nprivate burying a Corps in the Night-Time without any Ceremony or\nAttendance, can discharge our Duty in this last and indispensable\nParticular. We must study likewise a Method for the well ordering a dead\nBody, as Washing, Anointing, Embalming, Dressing, and all other\nExpences, Rites and Ceremonies relating to Funerals in general. In these\npoints, since the Ancients differ\u2019d very much, it will be material to\nconsider how far all, or any of these Ceremonies are either lawful,\nnecessary, or commendable. In order to this, to the end we may treat of\neach in its proper place, and be as succinct as we can, we will divide\nthese Funeral Ceremonies into such as were us\u2019d to Persons when they\nwere dying, or else perform\u2019d afterwards to their dead Corps.\n[Sidenote: Custom of kissing the Dead.]\n_First_, It was a Custom among the _Hebrews_ to kiss the Dead, as\nappears from _Gen._ 50. 1. _Joseph fell on his Father\u2019s Face, and wept\nupon him, and kissed him_: whereby he express\u2019d his sincere Affection to\nhis deceas\u2019d Parent, notwithstanding by his Death he was for ever to be\nseparated from him, yet his Filial Duty still remain\u2019d ready to perform\nthose Offices due to the Dead, such as _Embalming_, and the like. This\nCustom of kissing the Dead seems likewise to be taking a solemn leave of\nthem at their departure out of this World, till they should have the\nhappiness of meeting them in another. But the _Romans_ had a different\nSense of this Matter, for when the sick Person was just expiring, the\nnearest Relation or Friend, by a Kiss receiv\u2019d his last gasping Breath,\nwhereby they imagin\u2019d the Soul of the Deceas\u2019d came out of his Body\nthro\u2019 the Mouth, and was the same way transfus\u2019d into and receiv\u2019d by\nthem; nor did they only kiss their Friend and Relation when just\nexpiring, but also when his Body was going to be laid on the Funeral\nPile. This the _Christians_ imitate now a days, when they likewise kiss\nthe Deceas\u2019d just as he is going to be nail\u2019d up in his Coffin, or to be\ncarry\u2019d out to his Grave; but as for the other Ceremony, they have ever\nabhorr\u2019d it as a most superstitious and ridiculous Opinion. Both the\n_Pagans_ and _Christians_ without doubt, look\u2019d on Death as a Journey or\nPeregrination to another World, therefore by kissing their Dead, they\ntook their solemn Farewel of them, as we do when we part with a Friend\nthat is going to Travel, _&c._ Hereupon we always find written on their\nTombs, _Abiit non Obiit_, and as _Grethserius_ relates, _Lib._ 1. _De\nFun. Christian._ when the _Greeks_ came to a Burying, both Friends and\nRelations kiss\u2019d and took leave of the Dead in these words, _Vade, cum\nNatura nos vocaverit, sequemur_. _Go, when Nature calls, we\u2019ll follow._\nBut let the Cause be what it will that induc\u2019d the Ancients to kiss\ntheir Dead, it were better totally to forbear it, since to the Dead they\nare of no use, and to a dying Man are rather a Disturbance than any\nRelief: Moreover, to the saluting Friend, those ill Scents and Vapours,\nwhich proceed from the Mouth and Nostrils of the sick Person, may be an\ninfectious Breath, and prove not a little prejudicial to him; therefore\nit is in no wise either convenient or useful to kiss a Person that is\njust dying, or one that is already Dead.\n[Sidenote: Closing the Eyes.]\nThe next Thing to be done after the Person was dead, was to close his\nEyes, and this Ceremony was for the most part perform\u2019d by the nearest\nRelation, as by the Husband for the Wife, _Et vice versa_, by the Wife\nfor the Husband; also by Parents towards their Children, and by Children\ntowards their Parents, and where such were wanting, one Friend did it\nfor another. This Custom was in that esteem among the _Hebrews_,\n_Greeks_ and _Romans_, that the very Thoughts of having it perform\u2019d by\ntheir Kindred, mitigated, in some measure, the Pains and Agonies of\nDeath they underwent, whereby they dy\u2019d in much greater content of Mind\nthan they would otherwise have done; whereas on the contrary, they\nlook\u2019d on themselves not a little unhappy to die in a Place where no\nRelations or Friends were present to perform that Office. This appears\nby _Gen._ 46. 4. where _Jacob_ fearing he should die in his way to\n_Egypt_, by reason of his extream old Age, or the length of the Journey,\nand be thereby depriv\u2019d of these Funeral Ceremonies; GOD to remove those\nfears and comfort him, told him, He should die in peace with his\nChildren about him, and particularly that _Joseph should lay his Hands\non his Eyes_, as the Text expresses it, which was as much as to say, he\nshould close his Eyes, and take all other care of his Funeral.\nNow why this Custom of closing the Eyes of the Dead was in such Esteem\nand Use among the Ancients, there seem to be two Reasons: _First_, It\nbeing natural to Men to die with their Eyes open, as _Santorellus_ in\nhis _Post-Praxis Medic._ p. 18. Philosophically proves; and Death being\ncompar\u2019d to Sleep, they desir\u2019d to have their Eyes shut, the better to\nresemble sleeping and taking their Rest. _Secondly_, They might perhaps\ndesire it, that the By-Standers might not be offended at such an\nunpleasant sight as a staring Corps, with its Eyes and Mouth open, must\nneeds present, which every one knows looks very ghastly: Besides, the\nnoisom Smells of the fermenting Stomach were thereby hinder\u2019d from\nmaking too swift a passage into the Room, and offending the Company.\nThat it is therefore convenient to use this Ceremony none will deny, yet\nmust it not be practis\u2019d too soon, lest the Person it is to be us\u2019d to\nbe not actually dead, but only in an _Apoplexy_, _Lethargy_, or the\nlike, and so by keeping his Mouth shut with a Muffler, be suffocated.\nNor are his Eyes to be clos\u2019d \u2019till after he is actually dead, lest they\nopen again, as _Santorellus_ affirms they will; but this and other\nCeremonies of the like nature, which can in no wise further Death, in\ncase it should prove only an _Apoplexy_, &c. ought to be perform\u2019d\nbefore the Corps be quite cold, for afterwards they are not easily to be\nbrought to a graceful order, nor will make a handsom Corps, which the\nAncients so much lov\u2019d to see: Hereupon, in a short Time after the\nPerson was dead, they clos\u2019d his Eyes, [Sidenote: Shutting the Mouth,]\nshut his Mouth with a Muffler, plac\u2019d his Head streight, brought his\nArms to his Breast, his Legs close to one another, and then laid the\nwhole Body, with its Members, in a natural form and posture. But before\nthey proceeded to Anoint or _Embalm_ the Body, [Sidenote: Conclamation,]\nthey were wont to make great noises, to rowse and awake, if possible,\nhis fainted Spirits, and thereby fully satisfie themselves whether he\nwere really dead, or only asleep. To the same purpose they wash\u2019d the\nBody with warm Water, to the end that if it were only numm\u2019d with Cold\nit might thereby be recover\u2019d. It was a Custom among the _Greeks_ to\nmake a mighty Noise with the tinkling or sounding of Brazen Vessels,\n[Sidenote: Sounding of Brazen Vessels.] but the _Romans_ us\u2019d\nConclamation, or a general Outcrie, set up at equal Intervals before the\nCorps, by Persons who waited there on Purpose, which was done as\n_Pliny_, Lib. 7. cap. 52. of his _Natural History_, and _Cornelius\nCelsus_, Pr\u00e6f. Lib. 1. _De Re Medica_, tell us, either because they\nhop\u2019d by this means, to stop the Soul which was now taking its flight,\nor else to awaken its Faculties, which they thought might only be silent\nin the Body without Action; for sometimes such as have appear\u2019d to be\nDead, have come to Life again as _Kirmannus_, _De F. R._ Lib. 1. p. 104.\naffirms, and several Physicians have given many Instances of Persons,\nwho being bury\u2019d thro\u2019 haste in _Apopletick-Fits_, _&c._ have afterwards\ncome to themselves, and many times miserably perish\u2019d for want of\nAssistance. For this reason the _Romans_, as _Pancirollus_ and _Servius_\nobserve, lest they should be bury\u2019d alive, kept the Bodies seven or\neight Days, call\u2019d upon them at Intervals, wash\u2019d them with warm Water,\nand lastly us\u2019d _Conclamation_ before they burn\u2019d them, which was their\nmanner of Burial. But _Santorellus_ in his _Post-Praxis Medica_, p. 25.\nproves _Conclamation_ to be a useless and insignificant Custom. _First_,\nhe says, It is ridiculous to use it to such as we are satisfy\u2019d are\nreally Dead, from the nature of their Disease and other Symptoms. And,\n_Secondly_, To those that we are doubtful of, as in case of\n_Lethargies_, _Apoplexies_, _Hysteric Passions_, _Syncopes_, &c. Since\ntherefore this is no certain Rule to inform us, these Persons being many\nTimes neither sensible of burning nor large Scarifications, How can we\nexpect to excite them by Clamours? This also is confirm\u2019d by an\nExperiment of _Galen_\u2019s, _viz._ Whether a Woman was really Dead that lay\nin an _Hysteric Passion_; but it was so far from proving effectual, that\nwhen she came to her self, she declar\u2019d she knew nothing of what had\nbeen done to her. \u2019Tis true in small _Syncopes_ it may perhaps rowse the\nSpirits a little, but in Soporous Diseases, it is commonly an uncertain\nand ineffectual Remedy, therefore never to be trusted, so that we may\npronounce it to be a Ceremony neither necessary to be us\u2019d, nor useful\nto know whether the sick Person be dead or alive.\n[Sidenote: _Washing_ the Corps.]\nThe Custom of _Washing_ and _Anointing_ the Corps was in no wise\npeculiar to the _Romans_, but us\u2019d likewise by the _Hebrews_, _Greeks_,\n_Trojans_ and _Christians_, nay, in almost all the civiliz\u2019d Parts of\nthe World, yet \u2019tis certain it ows its Original to the Invention of the\n_Egyptians_. That it was us\u2019d in the Primitive Church, appears by the\nWords of the Apostle, _Acts_ 9. 37. _And it came to pass in those Days\nshe (Tabitha) was sick and dy\u2019d, whom when they had wash\u2019d, they laid in\nan upper Chamber._ Also _Johan. Chrysost._ as we find in _Theodoret_,\nHomil. 84. _Alphonsus Salmeron_, Tom. 10. _De Sepultura Christi_; and\nothers affirm Christ\u2019s Body was wash\u2019d before it was anointed. We read\nin _Plutarch_, that _Philippus Libertus_ wash\u2019d the Body of _Pompey_\nwith Salt Water, which perhaps might be either because it was more\nAbstersive, or that it help\u2019d to prevent Putrifaction, and it is not\nimprobable the _Egyptians_ might have been accustom\u2019d to wash the Body\nwith the same Pickle they us\u2019d in the Salination, or with _Ph\u00e6nician_\nWine, which they wash\u2019d the Entrails and inside of the Body with, in\norder to the _Preserving_ and _Embalming_ it: But more commonly the\nAncients us\u2019d warm Water, both that they might thereby cherish and\ncomfort the benumb\u2019d and lifeless Limbs, and invite the natural Heat\nagain into the Body, by doing which they better satisfy\u2019d themselves\nwhether the Body were really dead or not, and also that if it were past\nrecovery, they might by thus cleansing the Body from all Filth and\nPurgings at the Nose, Mouth or lower Belly, render the Corps more\ndecorous, and sightly, as \u2019tis a Custom among many at this Day, to comb\nthe Hair, shave the Beard, and perfume the Corps with sweet Odours.\nTwo other Reasons are given for washing a dead Body, _First_, That it\nmight be the fitter for anointing. _Secondly_, _Johannes Buxtorfius_, in\n_Synagog. Jud._ cap. 35. says, That it might be pure and clean when it\ncame to give an account of its Sins. These Ceremonies were carefully\npractis\u2019d among the _Jews_ as well as the _Greeks_ and _Romans_,\naccording to what _Maimonides in Tract. de Luctu_, Chap. 4 Sect. 1.\nobserves, _Mos vel Consuetudo est in Israel, circa Mortuos & eorum\nSepulturam, ut cum quis mortuus est, ejus Occulos occludant, & si Os\nipsius fuerit apertum, Maxillas ejus ligant, ne iterum aperiatur.\nObturatur etiam locus, per quem Excrementa ejiciuntur, sed hoc postquam\nCorpus fuerit Lotum._ _It was a Custom among the_ Israelites, says he,\n_towards the Dead and their Burial, that whenever any one was departed,\nthey closed his Eyes and shut his Mouth (keeping his Jaws close with a\nMuffler) that it might not open again. Then they stopp\u2019d the vents of\nthe Body, and lastly wash\u2019d it._\n[Sidenote: Anointing the Body.]\nAfter the Body was wash\u2019d, it was _Anointed_, which strictly speaking,\nwas _Embalming_, and differ\u2019d in nothing but preserving the Corps for a\nlonger or shorter space, pursuant to the manner of performing it, the\nnature of the Drugs, or composition of the Ointment. This Custom of\nanointing the Dead was very common among the _Egyptians_, as _Pliny_ in\nhis _Nat. Hist._ Lib. 2. Cap. 37. writes, _Egyptiis Mos est Cadavera\nadservare Medicata_. _It is a Custom among the_ Egyptians _to keep their\nBodies Embalm\u2019d_, that is, anointed and preserv\u2019d by Aromaticks. This\nanointing was perform\u2019d on the outside of the Body, with a composition\nof bitter and Aromatick Ingredients, after which, they stuff\u2019d the\ninside with the same dry Spices and Gums as were us\u2019d in the Ointment;\nin doing which, and rouling or dressing the Body, they spent Forty Days.\n_Diodorus Siculus_, Lib. 1. _Bibliothec\u00e6_, No. 91. says, _After they had\nwash\u2019d the Body with Palm-Wine, wherein Aromaticks had been boil\u2019d or\nsteep\u2019d, they first anointed it with Ointment of Cedar, and then with\nthat of Myrrh, Cinnamon, and other Drugs_. This not only preserv\u2019d the\nCorps, but also made it fragrant and sweet, and of this Ceremony the\n_Egyptians_ were the first Inventors. From them the _Hebrews_ deriv\u2019d\ntheir Custom of _Embalming_, which was us\u2019d chiefly towards their Kings\nor Great Men. The first of this kind was when _Joseph_ commanded the\nPhysicians of _Egypt_ to _Embalm_ his Father _Jacob_, Gen. 50. 2, 3.\nfrom whom the _Jews_ learn\u2019d it, and brought it with them into the Land\nof _Canaan_: [Sidenote: The _Hebrews_ Embalming different from that of\nthe _Egyptians_.] But this manner of Anointing or _Embalming_ among the\n_Hebrews_ was very different from that of the _Egyptians_, for their\nMethod was Thirty, Forty, and sometimes Seventy Days in performing, and\nthat by Balsamic Matters put into the Cavity of the Body, they first\ntaking out the Bowels and Entrails; but the _Hebrew_ way was one short\nanointing and applying Aromatick and Balsamic Ointments to the external\nParts, without any Embowelling, and this was done rather out of Respect\nto, and Veneration of the Dead, than to prevent any Putrifaction. Thus\nwe read of King _Asa_, 2 Chron. 16. 14. _That they bury\u2019d him in his own\nSepulchre, which he had made for himself in the City of David, and laid\nhim in the Bed which was fill\u2019d with sweet Odours and divers kinds of\nSpices, prepar\u2019d by the Apothecaries Art, and they made a great Burning\nfor him._ That is, they laid his dead Corps on a Bed fill\u2019d with such\nAromaticks, prepar\u2019d by the Apothecary, as were wont to be us\u2019d in\n_Embalming_, and afterwards burn\u2019d sweet Odours and Perfumes at his\nFuneral. Now this was accounted very Honourable to be done at the\nExequies of Kings, and was afforded King _Zedekiah_, tho\u2019 he dy\u2019d in a\nstrange Land, _Jerem._ 34. 5. Hereby it appears, thro\u2019 the length and\ninjuries of Time, they might lose that Art of _Embalming_ which the\n_Jews_, their Ancestors, had learn\u2019d from the _Egyptians_, or else had\ntheir Tradition so confusedly left to Posterity, that they were forc\u2019d\nto deviate from the antient Custom; for the best construction we can put\nupon _Embalming_ of the latter Ages, was anointing the Corps with bitter\nand Aromatick Ointments, compounded by the Apothecaries, [Sidenote:\n_Jewish Embalming_ rather a Ceremony than Preserving the Corps.] which\nnevertheless was rather a Ceremony, and render\u2019d the Corps sweet and\nfragrant, than prevented Putrifaction. Thus the most devout _Nicodemus_\nand _Joseph_ of _Arimathea_ Embalm\u2019d the Body of Christ, both out of the\nRespect they bore him, and according to the Custom of their Nation.\nThus, says the Text, _They took the Body of Jesus, and wound it in\nLinnen-Cloaths, with the Spices_ (_viz._ about an Hundred weight of\nMyrrh and Aloes) _as the Manner of the Jews is to bury_, John 19. 40.\nLikewise Holy _Mary_ anointed the Feet of Jesus, whilst alive, with a\nmost costly and rich Ointment of Spikenard, which was done by way of\nAnticipation in order to his Burial, as the Words of our Saviour himself\nimply, _John_ 12. 7. So also without doubt _Lazarus_, who was no mean\n_Jew_, was Embalm\u2019d, nevertheless _Martha_ fear\u2019d he stunk, tho\u2019 he had\nbeen Dead but four Days, _John_ 11. 39. Thus you see the more Modern way\nof _Embalming_ among the _Jews_, was only anointing the Body with an\nOintment compounded of sweet Spices, whose chief Ingredients were Myrrh\nand Aloes, and which was not only very grateful to the Smell, but also\ndry\u2019d up the Humidity of the Body, preventing an immediate Putrifaction,\nand likewise by its bitterness kept the Worms from eating it. The Custom\nof such like anointing the Dead was moreover very common among the\n_Greeks_, insomuch, says _Athen\u00e6us_ Lib. 15. that they studied what\nOintments were most agreeable and fitting for every Member of the Body.\nFrom them it descended to the _Romans_, and was accounted one of the\nmost commendable Actions of this Life, as being an Honour which\nappertain\u2019d to the Dead, as _Pliny Nat. Hist._ Lib. 12. cap. 1. relates,\nwherefore after they had wash\u2019d the Corps, they anointed it, says he,\nwith Odoriferous and Aromatick Ointments. The _Babylonians_ either\nanointed their Dead with, or laid them in Hony. The _Persians_ and\n_Scythians_ did the same with Wax. The _\u00c6thiopians_ with a sort of\nParget; and others us\u2019d Compositions either of _Salt_, _Nitre_,\n_Asphalt_, _Bitumen_, _Cedar_, _Balsam_, _Gypsum_, _Lime_, _Petrole_,\n_Naptha_, _Turpentine_, _Rosin_, or the like, of which see _Kirkmannus\n[Sidenote: _Anointing_ the _Dead_ to what purpose us\u2019d.]\nNow the general Intention of these Anointings, was either that such\nBodies as were to be bury\u2019d might thereby smell sweet and pleasant, and\nbe kept a long while uncorrupt, or else that those that were to be\nburn\u2019d might not only catch Fire the sooner; but also to the end the Air\nmight be perfum\u2019d by the sweet smelling Ointments and Balsams, and\nthereby the Stench of the burning Flesh not be perceiv\u2019d. Others give a\nthreefold Reason for this sort of _Embalming_, as, _First_, A Physical,\nThat all Stench and Putrifaction might be driven away from the Body.\n_Secondly_, A Civil, That it was a principal Honour exhibited to Just\nMen. And, _Thirdly_, A Mystical, It being a Testification of our Faith\nin the Resurrection of Bodies, and a _Symbol_ of future\nIncorruptibility. _Vide Quenstedt De Sepult. Vet._ p. 85.\n[Sidenote: _Attiring_ the Corps,]\nAfter the Body was _wash\u2019d_ and _anointed_, they wrapp\u2019d it in fine\nLinnen, and drest it in a proper Habit. The first is only to be\nunderstood a Winding-Sheet, either intire, or in two, three or more\npieces, fitted to the Head, Trunk and Limbs of the Body, bound on with\nRoulers; but the latter was various according to the sort of Garment, or\nQuality of the Deceas\u2019d: The first was usually white, prepar\u2019d by some\nWoman or Friend in the Persons Life-Time, on purpose for this particular\nuse; the other was of divers colours, as Purple, Scarlet, _&c._ and of\nseveral degrees of Richness, according to the Rank, Quality or\nProfession of the Deceas\u2019d, or as he had perform\u2019d any extraordinary\nExploit in War, or otherwise honourably behav\u2019d himself for the Honour\nof his Country. So that as the one was such as he usually wore in his\nLife-Time, the other was more Splendid, and given for a Reward to his\nVirtues. Hence it is the Dead were term\u2019d proud, as having never wore so\nrich a Garment during their Lives, says _Sosia apud Plautum in\nAmphitruone_. This Custom is said to have been first us\u2019d by the\n_Greeks_, but if we enquire more strictly into it, we shall find this,\nas well as other Ceremonies, owes its Origin to the _Egyptians_, tho\u2019\nthe manner of performing it be different; [Sidenote: With fine _Linnen_\nand a _Vest_.] for the _Greeks_ cover\u2019d their Dead from Head to Foot,\nfirst with fine Linnen, and then put over that a white Vest, which was a\nsort of _Pallium_ or Cloak they wore commonly when alive. So likewise\nthe _Athenians_ and _Lacedemonians_ dress\u2019d their Dead in a Garb\nsuitable to every ones Condition, and honourably adorn\u2019d such as had\nbehav\u2019d themselves well in War with a Purple or Crimson Vest, as\n_Alexander Sardus de Mor. & Rit. Gent._ Lib. 1. cap. 25. relates. As the\n_Greeks_ put on their Dead the _Pallium_, so the _Romans_ us\u2019d their\n_Toga_ or Gown, conformable to every One\u2019s degree. That ordinarily us\u2019d\nat the Funerals of vulgar Citizens was also white, but the Richer sort,\nas likewise those that had acquir\u2019d Honour by their Valour and Vertue,\nwere more splendidly Attir\u2019d and carry\u2019d out in State in the view of the\nPublic, so that any one might know the Face and Sex of the Deceas\u2019d from\nthe manner of their Cloaths and Ornaments. Now this was so well observ\u2019d\nby the Ancients, that as _Juvenal_, Satyr 3. informs us, in some parts\nof _Italy_, tho\u2019 the Inhabitants were so rude as not to wear the _Toga_\nwhilst they liv\u2019d, yet would they not want it at their Deaths:\n          _Pars magna Itali\u00e6 est, si verum admittimus in qua,\n          Nemo Togam sumit nisi Mortuus._\n               Some distant Parts of _Italy_ are known,\n               Where none but only dead Men wear a Gown.\nAlso the _Jews_ us\u2019d to wrap their Dead in fine Linnen, but differ\u2019d\nfrom others in this respect, That they did not hold it lawful to dress\nthe Body of a Prince in a more costly Garment than others had, and as\n_Cl. Salmasius apud Tho. Bartholinum de Latere Christi aperto_, p. 377.\nobserves, the Body of our Saviour was only wrapp\u2019d in fine Linnen, his\nHead in a _Sudarium_ or Handkerchief, and the whole swathed up from Head\nto Foot, with Rowlers like to the Swathes of Children. _John Henry\nHeiddegger in Dissert. de Sepult. Mort._ Sect. 30. divides this Linnen\ninto three sorts: _First_, A short piece, which was call\u2019d _Sudarium_.\n_Secondly_, A longer, nam\u2019d _Syndon_. And, _Thirdly_, That which kept\nboth these on, bound up the Hands and Feet, and cover\u2019d the rest of the\nBody, was term\u2019d _Fascia_ or a Swathing-Band. This seems clearly\nintimated in the Gospel of St. _John_, 11. 44. _And he that was dead\ncame forth, bound Hand and Foot with Grave-Cloaths, and his Face was\nbound up with a Napkin_: Therefore we are to understand, as the\nEvangelist here speaks of _Lazarus_, that the Arms were laid close to\nthe Body, so that they almost reach\u2019d the Knees, and afterwards rowl\u2019d\nup together with it; [Sidenote: Why the _Body_ should be _Cloath\u2019d_.]\nbut it may perhaps be ask\u2019d why the Body should be Cloath\u2019d at all, and\nwhy it might not be as well carry\u2019d out Naked and uncover\u2019d? To this\n_Antonius Santorellus_ in his _Post-Praxis Medica_, p. 104. answers,\nThat all Nations have taught the Body ought to be Cloath\u2019d, since no Man\nhas hitherto every been so immodest as not to be asham\u2019d of his own\nNakedness; for altho\u2019 this seems to signifie nothing to the Dead, who\nare without Sense or Shame, yet because the Eyes of the Living are\noffended at the Nakedness of the Body, all have for that Reason thought\nfit to Cloath their Dead: Moreover, not only Deformity is thereby\nremov\u2019d from a Corps, but we thus procure as much as possible that it\nmay appear Comely, and besides \u2019tis more decent to see a Body Cloath\u2019d\nthan Naked. On this account the _Greeks_ Cloath\u2019d their Dead in white\nVests or Garments, [Sidenote: Why with _white Vests_.] by reason of the\npurity of that Colour, White, according to _Plutarch_ in _Problem._\nbeing alone sincere, pure, and no ways infected, so that the Dead seem\nto be render\u2019d in a manner simple, pure and separate from any mixture:\nBut at length a certain Luxury of Ostentation crepp\u2019d into these Habits,\nwherefore the _Spartan_ Law-Giver _Lycurgus_, order\u2019d that Persons of\nthe greatest Valour and Worth should be bury\u2019d in nothing but a red\nCoat, which was the common Dress of Soldiers, and that the rest should\nbe deny\u2019d even that; for he thought it wholly absurd and unreasonable\nthe Dead should be deck\u2019d with superfluous Ornaments and Riches,\ntherefore neither Ointments nor Perfumes were us\u2019d in that\nCommon-Wealth, being look\u2019d on as conducing nothing to the Felicity of\nthe Dead, and therefore unworthy of the _Lacedemonians_ Gravity. Thus\nSt. _Jerom_ inveighs against them: _Cur & Mortuos vestros auratis\nobvolvis Vestibus? Cur Ambitio inter Luctus, Lacrymasq; non cessat? An\nCadavera Divitum, nisi in serico, putrescere nequeunt?_ _Why do ye\nCloath even your Dead in Cloth of Tissue? Whence comes Ambition to\ncontinue amidst Grief and Sorrow? Cannot a Rich Carcass, think ye, rot\nout of a Silk-Covering?_ St. _Chrisostom_ also thus exclaims: _O inanem\nGloriam! Quantam in Luctu Vim, quantam Amentiam ostendit!_ _O empty\nGlory! How does it exert it self in Grief, how discover its Madness!_\nLikewise in _Homil._ 84. he thus writes, _Tu cum audieris Nudum Dominum\nresurrexisse, cessa, qu\u00e6so, ab insana Funeris impensa. Quid sibi hoc\nsuperfluum vult & inutile Dispendium, quod ipsis, qui faciunt, plurimum\naffert Detrimenti, Mortuis nullum Utilitatem vel Damnum potius?\nSumptuosa namq; Sepultura nonnunquam Causa est, ut Fures Cadaver\neffodiant, & nudum & insepultum projiciant._ _Thou when thou shalt hear\nthy Lord rise from the Dead, naked and unadorn\u2019d, refrain, I beseech\nthee, from thy vain Funeral-Expences. What signifies all this\nsuperfluous and unprofitable Charge, which many times prejudices the\nLiving, yet never does any Good to the Dead, but rather Harm? For\noftentimes it happens a costly and sumptuous Interment, tempts Thieves\nto dig up the Rich Carcass, and throw it out Naked and unbury\u2019d._ Hence\nSt. _Austin_, speaking of his Mother, says, _Illa iminente Die, non\ncuravit Corpus suum sumptuose contegi_. _She with her last Breath did\ndesire her Body might not be splendidly Interr\u2019d._ Notwithstanding this,\nthe aforesaid St. _Chrisostom_ approves the use of these Things in a\nmoderate way; for after he had so severely inveigh\u2019d against them, he\nthus concludes, _Non ut Sepulturam tollam, dico absit, sed Luxuriam &\nsuperfluam Ambitionem_. _I am not for taking Burial wholly away, far be\nthat Thought from me, but I would have Luxury and unnecessary Ambition\nretrench\u2019d._\n_Antonius Santorellus_ thinks the Body ought to be carry\u2019d out cover\u2019d,\nas well in respect to the Living as the Dead, to the Living, lest they\nmay be offended by some small Perspirations of the Carcass, and to the\nDead; lest being uncover\u2019d, it might be more liable to external\nInjuries. For this Reason the _Egyptians_, who were wont to keep their\nDead publickly in their Houses, richly attir\u2019d them in fine Linnen, and\nadorn\u2019d them with Gold and precious Stones; also painted them with\nHieroglyphicks, thereby setting them forth in the most noble manner.\nThus by such a kind of Cloathing as is us\u2019d in Embalming, _viz._\nwrapping in Cerecloth, _&c._ all other Inconveniencies are prevented,\nnor can it be thought so great a Vanity to Cloath a preserv\u2019d Corps as\none that is corrupt and putrifying; but we may allow it reasonable\nenough to adorn such in a moderate way, suitable to its Quality.\n[Sidenote: _Crowning_ the _Dead_.]\nWhen the Body was dress\u2019d, they Crown\u2019d it, which Custom was first us\u2019d\nby the _Greeks_, _Lacedemonians_ and _Athenians_, from whom it descended\nto the _Romans_: Now if the Deceas\u2019d had, thro\u2019 Valour in War, obtain\u2019d\nbut any one of the honourary Crowns, it was put on his Head, and carry\u2019d\nout with him to his Burial; and this, to the end the Reward of Virtue\nmight in some measure be enjoy\u2019d after Death. For this reason _Cicero_\nobserves, _Lib._ 2. _De Legibus_, That the Laws commanded that Crown\nwhich was gotten by Virtue, should, without fraud, be put on him that\nobtain\u2019d it, and that such Ornaments of Praise belong\u2019d to the Dead.\nOther Persons were Crown\u2019d with Chaplets of Flowers and green Branches,\nsuch as Lillies, Roses and Violets, Olive and Bay-Leaves, and the like\nprecious Flowers and Plants. With these they likewise adorn\u2019d the Couch\nthe Body was to lye on, as the _Jews_ did theirs with sweet Odours and\nSpices, as we have before observ\u2019d of King _Asa_, 2 _Chron._ 16. 14.\nAlso in like manner as we at this Day fill Coffins with the like\nPerfumes, or for want of them, with sweet Herbs and Flowers, _viz._\nRosemary, Lavender, Marjoram, Time, Flowers of Jessamin, Orange, Lillies\nof the Valley, _&c._\n[Sidenote: Whence Deriv\u2019d, and to what End.]\nThis Ceremony of _Crowning the Dead_, _Suidas_ thinks was either taken\nfrom the _Games_, wherein the Conquerors were rewarded with Crowns of\nLeaves, signifying the Dead had finish\u2019d their Course, or was design\u2019d\nto express the unmix\u2019d and Everlasting Pleasures the Dead were to enjoy\nupon their Removal out of this sinful and troublesom World, for Garlands\nwere Emblems of Mirth and Rejoycing, therefore usually worn at Banquets\nand Festivals. The same may be observ\u2019d of Ointments and Perfumes, the\nconstant Concomitants of Gaiety and Joy. But whatever was the cause of\nthese Customs being so generally observ\u2019d by the _Heathens_, it was not\napprov\u2019d by the Primitive _Christians_, but look\u2019d on as little less\nthan Idolatry, as may be particularly seen in _Minutius F\u00e6lix_ in\n_Octav._ p. 109. and in _Tertullian de Corona Mil._ Nevertheless,\n_Antonius Santorellus_ in his _Post-Praxis Medica_, p. 151. says, _If\nCrowns were invented as Ornaments, and to preserve Health, Pleasure and\nVirtue, why may not the Dead be Crown\u2019d? And since those who fought\nboldly and strenuously, were among the_ Heathens _adorn\u2019d with various\nsorts of Crowns, why may not the_ Christians, _who fight for Eternal\nHealth, and overcome more powerfull Enemies (the Lusts of the Flesh) be\nthought more worthy of such Crowns?_ Nor has it displeas\u2019d some\n_Christians_, tho\u2019 perhaps it might the _Primitive_, to carry a Garland\nbefore the Corps, or fill the Coffin, or strow the Way or Grave with\nFlowers, and this without any manner of Superstition. Thus _Prudentius_\na _Christian_ Poet writes:\n                       _Nos tecta fovebimus Ossa,\n                       Violis & Fronde frequenti,\n                       Liquido spargemus Odore._\n                 We on the cover\u2019d Bones o\u2019th Dead,\n                   Sweet Violets and Leaves will strow,\n                 Whilst the Tomb, that cold hard Bed,\n                   Shall with our liquid Odours flow.\n[Sidenote: Laying out the _Corps_.]\nThe next Ceremony that follow\u2019d, was laying out the Corps, which after\nit was Wash\u2019d, Anointed, Cloath\u2019d and Crown\u2019d, was brought from the\ninner part of the House into the Porch or Entrance, and laid at the very\nThreshold. The poorest People were laid on the Ground or a Bier in an\nordinary Coffin, _&c._ But the richer Sort on a Bed or Couch, adorn\u2019d\nsometimes with Jewels, Arms, Books and other Things in which they most\ndelighted whilst they liv\u2019d, but commonly with all kinds of fragrant and\nprecious Flowers. Now the Reason why they thus plac\u2019d the Corps in\npublic View, was that all Persons might satisfie themselves whether the\nDeceas\u2019d had any Wounds, or other Marks of an untimely and violent\nDeath. The like Custom we have in those we call _Searchers_, who are to\nexamine into the Cause of the Persons Death, make their Report\naccordingly, and give an _Affidavit_ thereof: It may be farther\nobserv\u2019d, the Feet of the Deceas\u2019d were always turn\u2019d next the Door or\nGate, to shew they were never to return after they were thus carry\u2019d\nout. _This Custom_, says _Pliny_, _is but according to the Course of\nNature, for we usually come into the World Head foremost, but are\ncarry\u2019d out the contrary way_, of which see _Kornmannus de Mirac.\nMortuor_, Cap. 58. Whilst the Body lay in this Place, \u2019twas customary to\ngive it constant Attendance, to defend it from any Violence or Affront\nthat might be offer\u2019d. The Corps being thus decently laid out on the\nCouch or Bier, is now rightly compos\u2019d for Sepulture, and in a readiness\nto be carry\u2019d out to the Grave, so soon as these Ceremonies shall be\nended; the next Thing therefore we have to speak of is the _carrying it\nout_ to be Interr\u2019d.\n[Sidenote: _Carrying forth_ the _Corps_.]\nThus much was done before the Funeral, at it we may take notice of two\nThings, the _Elatio_ or carrying forth, and the _Act_ of _Burial_. What\nconcerns the first of these will appear by our observing the _Day_,\n_Time_, _Persons_ and _Place_; what _Day_ after the Person\u2019s decease was\nappointed for the Funeral is not well agreed on, nor does it seem to\nhave been limited, but was various, according to the Custom of the\nCountry, or Circumstance of the People. _Alexander ab Alexandro_ in Lib.\n3. cap. 7. _Gen. Dier_, tells us Bodies were kept seventeen Days and as\nmany Nights before they were Interr\u2019d. Also _Servius_ was of Opinion,\nthe Time of _Burning_ the Dead was the Eighth Day after Death, and the\nTime of _Burying_ the Ninth; but this must only be understood of the\nFunerals of Great Persons, which could not be duly solemniz\u2019d without\nextraordinary Preparations, whereas Men of inferior Rank, were committed\nto the Ground without so much Ceremony and Pomp. The antient Burials\nseem to have been on the Third and Fourth Day after Death, nor was it\nunusual to perform Solemnities, especially of the poorer Sort, on the\nvery Day of their Death, yet are there many Instances to prove no set\nnumber of Days were observ\u2019d; however, this Care ought particularly to\nbe taken, that the Dead be not carry\u2019d out too soon, for thro\u2019 too much\nhaste, it has sometimes happen\u2019d the Living have been bury\u2019d for the\nDead.\nThe _Time_ of carrying forth the Corps was likewise various, [Sidenote:\nBy some us\u2019d in the _Day_ and by others in the _Night_.] and us\u2019d either\nin the Morning, at Noon, or in the Night, according to the Custom of the\nCountry, or Conveniency and Condition of the Person deceas\u2019d. Thus the\n_Athenians_ made their Funeral Processions before the Sun-Rising, and\nthe _Greeks_ perform\u2019d the like Ceremony in the forepart of the Day, or\nabout Noon: So also the _Hebrews_ bury\u2019d their Dead in the Day-Time, as\n_Sopranes_, _David. dig._ fol. 487. asserts; but the _Romans_ made use\nonly of the Night, as the name of Funeral, _Servius_ thinks, denotes,\nbeing, as he says, deriv\u2019d _a Funalibus_, from the Torches, in like\nmanner as the _Vespillones_ (Bearers) were so call\u2019d from _Vesper_ the\n_Evening_; yet this Custom was not long observ\u2019d at least in publick\nFunerals, tho\u2019 it seems to have continu\u2019d in private ones, nevertheless,\nthe carrying of Torches and Tapers still remain\u2019d in practice, even when\nthe Dead were bury\u2019d in the Day-Time. This was a greater extravagance\nthan the other, inasmuch as tho\u2019 in burying by Day they at first\nintended to suppress the Charge of Torches, _&c._ yet at last they not\nonly burn\u2019d these in vain to light the Sun, but also increas\u2019d all other\nFuneral-Expences to that degree, that Laws were fain to be made to\nrestrain them; but, omitting such superfluous Ceremonies, we must grant\nthe Day-Time to be the fittest for publick Funerals, and the Night for\nprivate ones, both which have been us\u2019d indifferently, as Occasion\nserv\u2019d, as well by the _Primitive Christians_ as others: The first were\nchiefly chosen whilst they were in a quiet State, but the latter were\nmade use of in Times of Persecution.\n[Sidenote: How _carry\u2019d forth_ to the _Grave_.]\nNow as concerning the Act or manner of _carrying forth_ the dead Body,\nfrom the House wherein it was prepar\u2019d for Burial, to the place where it\nwas to be interr\u2019d, it is said of the antient _Grecians_, that they\ncarry\u2019d such out without any support, tho\u2019 it was a more frequent Custom\nin the antient Church to bear the Dead on Mens Shoulders; afterwards\nthey plac\u2019d them in a Coffin, on a Bier, Bed, or Couch of State, and so\nconvey\u2019d them to the Sepulchre on their Shoulders. This Duty was\ngenerally perform\u2019d by the next Heir or nearest Relations, and sometimes\nthe Magistrates, Senators or chief of the Nobility bore the Bodies of\nthose who had deserv\u2019d highly of the Common-Wealth, of which see several\nExamples in _Quenstedt_, p. 114. but Persons of meaner Rank, nay, and\nsometimes even Great Men, that had been hated by the People, were\ncarry\u2019d forth to their Burial by the _Vespillones_ or _Sandapilarii_,\nthat is, the Sextons or common Bearers, who liv\u2019d by that Employ, and in\nthis last way of bearing out the Dead, we may suppose them to have us\u2019d\nthe _Sandapila_ or common Bier, as the others did the _Lectic\u00e6_ or\n_Lecti_, that is, the Litters or Beds; for the _Romans_ us\u2019d two sorts\nof Biers, the one call\u2019d _Lectica_, which was for the Rich, and the\nother _Sandapila_, for the Poor. We read of this Bed in the carrying\nforth of _Abner_, 2 _Sam._ 3. 31. where the Translation is, that _King\nDavid himself follow\u2019d the Bier_, which word in _Hebrew_ signifies a\nBed. How this was wont to be perfum\u2019d with Spices and deck\u2019d with\nprecious Flowers has been intimated before, as also how the Corps was\nDress\u2019d, Crown\u2019d and expos\u2019d to public View; but here we will take\nnotice of the Pride and Vanity of the _Romans_, who were accustom\u2019d to\nPaint or put a beautifying Wash on such whose Faces were deform\u2019d, that\nthey might thereby appear handsomer while Dead than Living, which Custom\nis said to be us\u2019d even in _France_ and _Italy_ at this Day; but in case\nthe Visage were very much distorted by its Change, bruis\u2019d by the fall\nof an House, maim\u2019d by any other Accident, or the like, so that it was\nnot fit to be seen, then were they wont to throw a Covering or Pall over\nit.\n[Sidenote: _Persons_ at the _Funeral_.]\nThe Persons present at Funerals were the Dead Man\u2019s Friends and\nRelations, who thought themselves under an Obligation to pay this last\nRespect to their deceas\u2019d Parent or Friend, who commonly had Legacies\nleft in his Will, that they might appear in decent Mourning, and\naccompany the Corps with greater Solemnity: Besides these, others were\nfrequently invited to encrease the Funeral-Procession, but this only\nwhere the Laws did not restrain such Pomp as they sometimes did in some\nPlaces, either to prevent the Disorders that often happen\u2019d at such\npromiscuous Meetings, or to moderate the excessive Charges of Funerals.\n[Sidenote: The _Mourning-Habit_.]\nThe Habit these Persons wore was not always the same, for tho\u2019 they\nsometimes put on Mourning, and, in common Funerals, retain\u2019d their\nordinary Apparel, yet were the Exequies of Great Men commonly celebrated\namong the _Pagans_, with expressions of Joy for the reception of the\nDead into Heaven. The Herse was follow\u2019d by abundance of Men and Women\ncloath\u2019d in white Garments, and bedeck\u2019d with Garlands, as is usual in\nFestival-Solemnities. The Funeral was solemniz\u2019d with _P\u00e6ans_, or Songs\nof Triumph, and Dances: This Custom was in use among the _Greeks_. The\n_Chineses_, _Syracusans_ and _Argives_ mourn\u2019d in white, as did also the\nantient _Romans_; but after their Empire was settl\u2019d they us\u2019d black.\nThe _Hebrews_, &c. mourn\u2019d in black; the _Carthaginians_ hung their\nWalls with black, whence at this Day, to show the greater demonstration\nof Grief, Palaces of Emperors, Kings and Princes, as likewise Churches\nand Houses of private Persons, are upon like occasions us\u2019d to be hung\nwith black, which Custom was anciently practis\u2019d by many Nations, by\nreason this Colour was accounted the most agreeable to Mourning and\nSorrow.\n[Sidenote: The Funeral _Procession_.]\nNext we shall speak of the Funeral _Procession_, and of such Persons as\nwent before and usually follow\u2019d the Funeral-Bed: When the Herald had\nmarshall\u2019d all in good Order, the Procession began to move, and we are\nto take notice it was often made on Horseback or in Coaches; but at the\nFunerals of Persons, to whom a more than ordinary Respect was due, all\nwent on Foot: First march\u2019d the Musicians with Trumpets, Flutes,\nCornets, Pipes and other Musical-Instruments, sounding most sorrowful\nand mournful Notes; next came the _Pr\u00e6fic\u00e6_ or Women hir\u2019d to mourn and\nsing doleful Songs in Praise of the Deceas\u2019d: These us\u2019d strange\nShriekings and Gesticulations, beating their Breasts, tearing their Hair\nand the like, so that by their false Tears and feign\u2019d Sorrow, they\nmov\u2019d others to cry in good earnest. These foolish Songs and ridiculous\nIncantations _Justinian_ the Emperor prohibited, introducing in their\nroom Psalms and Hymns, which among the _Christians_ continue to be sung\nbefore the Corps even at this Day, and that to cherish their Hearts and\nallay their Grief. If the Deceas\u2019d had been eminent for his Warlike\nAtchievements, then the Arms, Standards and other Trophies taken by him\nwere usually carry\u2019d before him. Next follow\u2019d the Priests and Religious\nOrders, tho\u2019 the ordinary way was for the Body to go first and the rest\nto follow, whereby the Survivors were put in mind of their Mortality,\nand warn\u2019d to remember they were all to go the same way the Deceas\u2019d had\ngone before them: Then immediately after the Corps came the Relations or\ntrue Mourners, apparell\u2019d in proper Habits, and the Women with their\nHair dishevell\u2019d and their Faces cover\u2019d with Veils; the rest follow\u2019d\nat some distance, and the Funeral-Pomp was clos\u2019d up by the common\nPeople.\n[Sidenote: Manner of _Mourning_.]\nBut to speak somewhat of the antient Manner of _Mourning_, you must know\nthat was various according to the several Customs of Countries, yet this\nmay be laid down as a general Rule amongst most Nations, that the better\nto express their Sorrow for the loss of a deceas\u2019d Relation or Friend,\nthey on occasion of his Death differ\u2019d as much as could be from their\nordinary Habit and Behaviour. Hence Mourners in some Cities demean\u2019d\nthemselves after the same manner that in other Countries express\u2019d Joy,\nand what was esteem\u2019d Rejoycing in some was in others a token of Sorrow:\nFor Example, in some Places it was customary to wear short Hair, where\nlong was a token of Mourning, but in others, where long Hair was in\nFashion, Mourners were accustom\u2019d to shave themselves. The most usual\nways, whereby the Ancients express\u2019d their Sorrow, was by refraining\nfrom Musick, Banquets and Entertainments, from Garlands or Crowning\nthemselves, from Wine and strong Drink, and in a Word, from every thing\nthat occasion\u2019d Mirth, or look\u2019d Gay and Pleasant: Such things were not\njudg\u2019d fitting to be admitted into so melancholly a Society as that of\nMourners, to whom even the Light was to be odious, and nothing desirable\nbut Darkness and lonesom Retirements. These they thought best suited\nwith their Misfortunes, and therefore sequester\u2019d themselves from all\nCompany and publick Solemnities, nay even refrain\u2019d from the very\nComforts and Conveniences of Life. They usually confin\u2019d themselves\nwithin Doors, and abstain\u2019d from all Luxury, Ointments, Baths, Venery,\n_&c._ and on the contrary fasted and put on black Habits, differing not\nonly in Colour from their ordinary Apparel, but also in Value, being\nonly of a course and cheap Stuff. They sprinkl\u2019d Dust on their Heads,\nnay, rowl\u2019d in the very Dirt, thinking they shew\u2019d the greater Sorrow\nand Dejection by how much they were the more dirty and nasty. These\nCustoms were likewise practis\u2019d in the _East_, whence we find so\nfrequent mention of Penitents lying on the Ground, and putting on\nSackcloth and Ashes: [Sidenote: With Sackcloth and Ashes.] They were so\nfar from wearing good Apparel, that they frequently burn\u2019d their richest\nGoods and Cloaths, and rent and tore what they had off their Backs, on\nthe first news of any great Calamity: Thus _Reuben_ did, _Gen._ 37. 29,\nand Verse 34. _Jacob rent his Cloaths, and put Sackcloth on his Loins,\nand mourn\u2019d for his Son many Days._ So in the 2 _Samuel_ 3. 31. _David_\ncommanded his Servants to mourn for _Abner_; and thus also mourn\u2019d\n_Hezekiah_, 2 _Kings_ 19. 1. See also _Nehem._ 9. 1. _Esther_, 4. 1. and\n_Lamentations_ 2. 10.\n[Sidenote: Cutting and tearing their Flesh.]\nThey also on such occasions shav\u2019d off their Hair, beat their Breasts,\ncut their Flesh, and with their Nails tore holes in their Faces, that\nthey might appear the more deform\u2019d and discontented. These frantick\nActions, tho\u2019 practis\u2019d sometimes by Men, were more frequent among\nWomen, whose Passions were more violent and ungovernable; they wore\ntheir Hair long, dishevel\u2019d and carelessly flowing about, contrary to\nthe usage of the Men who shav\u2019d theirs. The _Heathens_ were so\nsuperstitious in these Ceremonies, that they extended the Practice of\nthem to a higher degree than the _Jews_, for they hir\u2019d feign\u2019d Mourners\nto make frightful Howlings and sad Lamentations for the Dead, and were\nwont to cause even their Horses, Mules, _&c._ to share in their Sorrows,\nby shaving their Manes, and the like. These cruel and ridiculous\nCeremonies were restrain\u2019d by Laws made on purpose, to restrain such\nExcesses in Funerals; [Sidenote: Moderate _Weeping_ commendable.]\nnevertheless a moderate Sorrow and Mourning was never disallow\u2019d, but on\nthe contrary commended and promis\u2019d as a Blessing to the Godly, and the\nwant thereof threaten\u2019d as a Malediction or Curse, _Isaiah_ 57. 1. _To\nmourn at the Interment of our Friends_ (says _Weever_, p. 16.) _is a\nmanifest Token of our true Love_: By it we express that natural\nAffection we had to the departed Person, but this ought always to be\nwith a Christian moderation, whereby our Faith towards GOD is\ndemonstrated. He gave us natural Affections, and commanded us to love\none another, and is not pleas\u2019d such Love should end with our Friends\nLife, but rather that we should retain all due Respect to his Memory.\n_Antonio de Guevara_ in his 10th Letter, English\u2019d by Mr. _Savage_,\nsays, _The Heart of Man is tender, and not able to part with any Thing\nit loves without Concern_. This daily Experience teaches us even in\nBrutes, who will in like manner mourn for the Absence or Death of their\nCompanions or Young; for this Reason our Author thus Expostulates, _Why\nshould we not_, says he, _be allow\u2019d to shed Tears and lament over the\nGraves of our Friends, since we are of a superiour Nature to Beasts?_\nSome account Weeping a weakness and effeminacy, but there are sufficient\nExamples to prove the contrary, [Sidenote: Us\u2019d by Kings and\nPatriarchs.] for if such great and wise Men as Kings and Patriarchs\nwept, surely a moderate Mourning for the Dead is justifiable and pious;\nnay, the Holy Scripture shews how those devout Men were commended who\nmade great Lamentations over _Stephen_\u2019s Burial. We read in the Old\nTestament how _Abraham_ mourn\u2019d and wept for his Wife _Sarah_, Gen. 23.\n2. and in _Chap._ 50. _ver._ 1, 10, 17. we find _Joseph_ wept over his\ndead Father _Jacob_, and mourn\u2019d for him: So King _David_ follow\u2019d the\nBier of _Abner_ weeping, and when he came to the Grave, both he and all\nthe People wept, 2 _Sam._ 3. 31, 32. At another Time, when he heard the\nNews of his Sons being slain, _He arose and tore his Garments and lay on\nthe Earth, and all his Servants stood by with their Cloaths rent_, 2\nSam. 13. 31. likewise Verse 33, 36. when it was told that _only Amnon\nwas dead, The King\u2019s Sons lift up their Voices and wept, and the King\nalso, and all his Servants wept very sore_. At another Time he made\ngreat Lamentation for his Son _Absalom_, 2 _Sam._ 18. 3. nevertheless he\ndid not allow of immoderate Grief and Mourning, but reprov\u2019d it himself,\nas you may read, 2 _Sam._ 12. 23. and this because it was vain to do so,\nand could never recover the Dead; so that when he bewail\u2019d the Death of\n_Saul_ and _Jonathan_, of _Abner_ and _Absalom_, it was out of Love to\nthem, and by reason the Common-Wealth had a loss by some of their\nDeaths, and because others of them died in their Sins. These may be\nsufficient Reasons moderately to mourn for the Dead; but we read of\nseveral other good Men who wept on other Occasions, as the _Man of God_,\n2 _Kings_ 8. 11. _Hezekiah_, 2 _Kings_ 20. 3. _Nehemiah_ 1. 4. and\nChrist himself, [Sidenote: By our _Saviour_.] who was never known to\nlaugh, is recorded to have wept twice, once over the foreseen Desolation\nof _Jerusalem_, Luke 19. 41. and another Time over the Grave of\n_Lazarus_, John 11. 35. from which last, the _Jews_ collected his Love\ntowards the Dead: Now as Weeping on the Death of a Friend expresses our\nGrief for the Loss of him, and is done out of Respect and Love to him,\nso does it likewise moderate our Passion and allay our Concern,\n[Sidenote: _Weeping_ allays Grief.] as _Ovid_ in his Epistles speaks:\n              _Flere licet certe, flendo diffudimus Iram._\n            We certainly may Weep, weeping allays our Grief.\nAnd in the Fourth Book of his _De Tristibus_, Eleg. 3.\n                 \u2014\u2014_Est qu\u00e6dam flere Voluptas,\n                 Expletur Lacrymis, egeriturq; Dolor._\n            There is a certain Pleasure springs from Tears,\n            They ease our Grief and sooth our coming Years.\nAlso St. _Ambrose_, speaking of the Death of _Valentine_, says, _Pascunt\nfrequenter Lacrym\u00e6, & Mentem allevant Fletus, refrigerant Pectus, &\nM\u00e6stum consolantur: Est quoq; piis Affectibus qu\u00e6dam Flendi Voluptas, &\nplerumq; graves Lacrymas evaporat Dolor_. _Tears and Weepings oftentimes\nrefresh the Mind, and comfort the afflicted Soul: There is a kind of\nPleasure in Godly Passions, for frequently by many Tears Grief\nvanishes._ Likewise St. _Chrisostom_ makes this Comparison,\n_Quemadmodum_, says he, _per vehementes Imbres, mundus Aer ac purus\nefficitur; haud secus post Lacrymarum Pluvias, Serenitas Mentis sequitur\n& Tranquilitas_. _In like manner as the Air is purify\u2019d and cleans\u2019d by\nvehement Showers, so from a greater Effusion of Tears, a Serenity and\nTranquility of Mind follows._ As for the other Uses of Weeping, see\n_Santorellus_ in his _Post-Praxis Medica_, p. 30. who writes\nPhilosophically of its Nature and Cause.\n[Sidenote: _Following_ the _Corps_.]\nBesides these Mourners and Relations there follow\u2019d a great number of\nFriends and Acquaintance to the Place of Burial; for it was not only\nlook\u2019d on as a Duty, but a religious Friendship to attend a Corps to its\nGrave. Thus we read, _Joseph went up to Bury his Father, and with him\nall the Servants of Pharaoh, the Elders of his House, and all the Elders\nof Egypt_, Gen. 50. 7. and this even from the Land of _Egypt_ to\n_Canaan_. So King _David_ and all his Servants follow\u2019d the Bier of\n_Abner_, 2 Sam. 3. 31. and we read in _Luke_ 7. 12. that much People of\nthe City of _Naim_ follow\u2019d the Widow\u2019s Son.\nThe Corps being brought forth to the Place of Burial, after the manner\nalready describ\u2019d, within or without the City, [Sidenote: The _Act_ of\n_Burial_.] the next Thing was the _Act_ of _Burial_. This has been\nperform\u2019d various ways, but the two most common, were either _Burying_\nor _Burning_, whether of which be the most eligible we shall next\nenquire into. Burial is the more antient, as having been us\u2019d in the\nPrimitive Ages by the _Hebrews_, _Greeks_, _Romans_, and most other\nNations, yet the two latter _burn\u2019d_ their Dead, as is pretended on the\nfollowing Considerations. _First_, That Worms and such like vile Insects\nmight be thereby prevented from corroding the noble Bodies of the Dead,\nand the Living be freed from the Infection and Stench of Carcasses\nrotting in the Earth. _Secondly_, Because Fire purefy\u2019d the Dead, and\nwas the quickest way of Incineration, or reducing Bodies to their first\nElements, whereby the Soul being set at Liberty, might take its Flight\nto the Heavenly Mansions. _Thirdly_, Being so immediately reduc\u2019d to\nAshes, it could not be easily inform\u2019d and mov\u2019d about by the Devil, to\nthe great Terror and Amazement of all People. And, _Lastly_, they\nlikewise thought it secur\u2019d them from the Exultation of the Enemy, in\nexposing and abusing their Corps, which last I take to be the true\nOccasion of Burning their Dead: For as _Pliny_ says, _Lib._ 7. _cap._\n54. _Sylla_ having dug up the Body of _Caius Marius_, his mortal Enemy,\nand fearing the like Fate, engag\u2019d the People by an express Law, that\nthey should for the future burn both him and others after they were\ndead, and this tho\u2019 none of the _Cornelii_ his Predecessors had ever\nbeen burn\u2019d. From hence it was the _Romans_ brought in the Custom of\n_Burning_ their Dead, which was perform\u2019d after the following manner:\n[Sidenote: _Burning_ the _Dead_.]\nHaving erected a _Pile_ in form of an Altar, made either of ordinary\nWood, such as Oak, Ash, Olive, Pine, Fir, and the like resiniferous\nTrees, which caus\u2019d it easily to catch Fire, or else of odoriferous,\nsuch as Cedar, Cypress, Mirtle, _&c._ They plac\u2019d the Corps with the\nCouch thereon, and then set round about the Arms, Sword, Belt or Spoils\ntaken in War of the Deceas\u2019d, his best Houshold-Goods and richest\nApparel, his finest Horses, Dogs or the like, and in the more barbarous\nAges his Slaves, all which, having first slain the Beasts, _&c._ they\nburn\u2019d together with him. In some Places the Wives flung themselves\nalive into the Pile, and were burn\u2019d with their Husbands, and commonly\nall such Things as the Deceas\u2019d most valu\u2019d while they liv\u2019d, besides\nabundance of rich Presents brought by Relations and Friends, all sorts\nof Perfumes and sweet Odours, such as Cinamon, Cassia, Frankinsence,\n_&c._ and odoriferous Oils and Ointments were burn\u2019d with them, as we\nread the _Israelites_ us\u2019d to do at the Burials of their Kings, as they\ndid at that of _Asa_, 2 _Chron._ 16. 14. and other Places. When the Pile\nwas burn\u2019d down, the nearest Relations gather\u2019d up the Ashes and Bones,\n[Sidenote: _Ossilegium._] and having wash\u2019d them with Wine, Milk or\nWater, put them into Urns made of different kinds of Matter, such as\nGold, Silver, Brass, Marble, Glass, Earthen-Ware, Cedar, and the like;\nthen they pour\u2019d out Tears upon them, which being catch\u2019d in small\nVessels call\u2019d _Lacrymatori\u00e6_, were reposited with the Urn in a Tomb.\n[Sidenote: Funeral _Oration_.]\nAn Oration or Funeral-Sermon was likewise solemnly pronounc\u2019d in Praise\nof the Deceas\u2019d, by a Person appointed for that purpose by the public\nMagistrate. When the Funeral was over, other Ceremonies were perform\u2019d\nin Honour of the Dead as Festivals, which may be reduc\u2019d to these three\nHeads, _Sacrifices_, _Feasts_ and _Games_.\n[Sidenote: _Sacrifices._]\nThe _Sacrifices_ consisted of Liquors, Victims and Garlands; the Liquors\nwere Wine, Milk, Water, Blood, Honey and liquid Balsam.\n[Sidenote: _Feasts._]\nThe _Feasts_ were either Publick or Private: The Private were kept about\nthe Tomb of the Deceas\u2019d by the nearest Relations and Friends only,\nbeing prepar\u2019d both for the Dead and Living. The Repast design\u2019d for the\nDead consisting commonly of Beans, Lettices, Bread and Eggs, or the\nlike, was laid on the Tomb for the Deceas\u2019d to come out and Eat, as they\nfancy\u2019d he would. The Public Feasts were when the Heirs or Friends of\nsome Rich or Great Dead Person oblig\u2019d the People with a general Treat\nto his Honour and Memory.\n[Sidenote: _Games._]\nThe Funeral _Games_ consisted of a great number of Gladiators, fighting\nwith Beasts, _&c._ the Ancients thinking the Dead delighted in such\nbloody Sacrifices; but this Barbarous Custom of burning the Dead\ncontinu\u2019d no longer than the Time of the _Antonines_, who being virtuous\nPrinces abhorr\u2019d such Cruelties, and therefore brought Burial again into\nPractice. Thus it plainly appears, Burial was not only more antient but\nmore eligible than Burning, since one was admitted upon Choice and the\nother by Compulsion; for so soon as such cruel minded Persons were\nremov\u2019d, Burial was again introduc\u2019d: Besides, as it appears by Holy\nWrit and the Canon-Law, Burning was a most ignominious way of dealing\nwith the Dead, to which none were expos\u2019d but such as had lain with\nBeasts or their own Sex; and we at this Day only burn Female-Traitors,\nor such as have kill\u2019d their Husbands, _&c._ thereby to show the\nHeinousness of their Crime; on the contrary, Sepulture was always\nesteem\u2019d Honourable among GOD\u2019s People. Thus the Patriarchs _Abraham_,\n_Isaac_, _Jacob_ and _Joseph_, as also _Moses_ were bury\u2019d, and the last\nparticularly by GOD himself, _Deut._ 34. 7. Likewise the Holy Fathers,\nSt. _Austin_, St. _Ambrose_, St. _Gregory_, and most of the _Primitive\nChristians_ were for having their Bodies bury\u2019d and not burn\u2019d:\n[Sidenote: _Situation_ of the _Dead_ in their _Sepulchres_.] But as for\nthe manner of Burying or placing them in their Sepulchres, that was\nvarious, according to the different Opinions or Customs of several\nNations, a few of which we shall here relate. The _Egyptians_ set dead\nBodies on their Feet, as _Solinus_ observes:\n                Claudit odorato post Funus stantia Busto\n            The _Egyptians_, when the Funeral-Pomp was made,\n            Shut up in odorous Tombs the standing Dead.\nThe _Ph\u00e6nicians_ bury\u2019d the Dead on their Backs, yet turn\u2019d them to the\nWest, in Imitation of the Setting-Sun, as the _Athenians_ did to the\nEast in regard of its Rising. The _Nasamones_, a People of _Africa_, did\nnot only for the greatest part die sitting, but also bury\u2019d their Dead\nin that Posture, and the Inhabitants of _Megara_ plac\u2019d their Dead with\ntheir Faces downwards: So _Diogenes_ desir\u2019d to be bury\u2019d, his Reason\nbeing, that as he believ\u2019d the World would at last be turn\u2019d\ntopsie-turvy, he then should lye upright: Yet the general way was to lye\nwith the Face upwards towards the Fountain of Life, and Abodes of the\nCelestial Gods, and to be so situated in the Grave, as to see the\nRising-Sun. As for the _Christians_, they bury\u2019d their Dead supine, as\nlooking towards Heaven, where their sole Hopes were plac\u2019d, and towards\nthe East as waiting for the Resurrection.\nNext let us consider the Places where the Ancients us\u2019d to bury their\nDead, and how they dug their Graves, and erected their Sepulchres and\nMonuments. In order to this you must know, _First_, That Sepulchres were\nnot always of a kind, nor might all People be bury\u2019d in the same Place\nof Sepulture, but proper ones were invented for different Degrees and\nRanks, so that some were Public and some Private; some common or\nbelonging to all, and others peculiar to one Family, and these again\neither built by the Persons whilst alive, or order\u2019d by their Wills how\nthey would have them erected after their Deaths. [Sidenote: _Monuments_\nBuilt during Life.] Thus _Absalom_ in his Life-Time erected a Pillar to\npreserve his Memory in case his Issue-Male fail\u2019d, 2 _Sam._ 18. 18.\nwhich Pillar, hewn out of a Rock or Quarry, he intended for his\nSepulchre, and which, according to _Sandys_, is to be seen at this Day.\n_Augustus C\u00e6sar_, in the 6th Year of his Consulship, built a\nFuneral-Monument for himself and Successors; but that Mausoleum, as\n_Xiphilinus_ writes, being full in the Time of _Adrian_, that Emperor\nrais\u2019d himself a Tomb or Sepulchre near the _Pons \u00c6lius_. Nay it was\nusual for such as were careful of their Burials, to provide their own\nTombs in their Lives Time, and this for their better Satisfactions, with\nthese or the like Inscriptions:\n                    VIVUS FECIT. VIVUS SIBI POSUIT.\n                    VIVUS FACIENDUM CURAVIT.\nFor the same Reason King _Henry_ the Seventh built a fair and glorious\nChapel at _Westminster_ as an House of Burial for himself, his Children,\nand such only of the Blood-Royal as should descend from his Loins,\nforbidding all others of what Degree or Quality soever to be interr\u2019d in\nthat sacred Mould, as appears by his last Will and Testament, _Weever_\np. 20. Now, as for such as did not build their Monuments themselves, but\nonly order\u2019d them by their last Wills, it was held such Wills could not\nbe violated with a safe Conscience, nor might any one change, alienate\nor detract from them; for since Monuments were invented as well to\npreserve Mens Memories as their Bodies, it would be very hard and\ninhuman to deprive them of them, yet has there been such base Heirs, as\nappears by the Inscriptions of some Tombs, which give the Reader a\nCaution therein, whereof I have inserted two.\n              _Fallax s\u00e6pe Fides, testataq; Vota peribunt;\n                Constitues Tumulum, si sapis, ipse tuum._\n           Since Heirs are Faithless and your Wills neglect,\n           If ye are wise your own Tombs you\u2019ll erect.\nOn others thus:\n           _Certa Dies nulli, Mors certa, incerta sequentum:\n             Constitues Tumulum, si sapis, ipse tuum._\n    If Life\u2019s uncertain, certain Death, and dubious what\u2019s to come,\n    You would do well to secure all, by building your own Tomb.\nThat some Persons were better pleas\u2019d to build their Tombs themselves,\nwe read in 2 _Chron._ 16. 14. how _King Asa was bury\u2019d in his own\nSepulchre, which he had made for himself in the City of David_: And how\n_Shebnah_ had taken care to have a Sepulchre hew\u2019d for himself in\n_Jerusalem_. The same is also said of _Joseph_ of _Arimath\u00e6a_, Matth.\n27. 60. [Sidenote: _Places_ of _Sepulture_.] The Places of Sepulture\nwere of two kinds, Public and Private. The Public were likewise of two\nsorts, _viz._ Such as were allotted the Poor, and others that were us\u2019d\nonly by the Rich: [Sidenote: The _Puticul\u00e6_.] The poor Servants, and\nsuch like mean Persons, were bury\u2019d in Ditches or Graves call\u2019d\n_Puticul\u00e6_ or _Puticuli_, and so nam\u2019d, _A Puteis fossis, vel quod\nCorpora ibi putrescerent_. These were Holes in the Earth made like to\nWells, between Mount _Esquiline_, the Walls of the City, and the Street\nwhich leads to the Gate _Querquetulana_; but these Wells infecting all\nthe neighbouring parts of the City, _Augustus_ for removing thereof,\ngave that Place to _M\u00e6cenas_, who built a stately House, and made very\nfine Gardens there, as his Favourite _Horace_ informs us. There were\nother public Places, in which those that had deserv\u2019d well of the\nCommon-Wealth had their Monuments, which were chiefly allow\u2019d them as a\nReward of their Virtues. As for the _Roman_ Kings they were bury\u2019d in\nthe _Campus Martius_, [Sidenote: _Campus Martius._] where the\n_Mausol\u00e6um_ of _Augustus_ stood, together with a vast number of antient\nSepulchres and Monuments all along the River side.\n[Sidenote: Private.]\nPrivate Burying-Places were such as any one had in his own House, Garden\nor Fields: Thus we read _Samuel_ was bury\u2019d in his House at _Ramah_,\nSam. 25. 1. and _Joab_ in his House in the Wilderness, 1 _Kings_ 2. 34.\nThe antient _Grecians_ were also bury\u2019d in Places prepar\u2019d for that\npurpose in their own Houses; and the _Thebans_ had once a Law, that no\nPerson should build a House without providing in it a Repository for the\nDead; but this Custom was afterwards forbidden, as appears by that\nPassage in _Isiodorus_, Lib. 14. _Orig._ cap. 11. _Prius autem quisq; in\nDomo sua sepeliebatur, postea vetitum est Legibus, ne f\u00e6tore ipso\nCorpora Viventium contactu inficerentur_. _At first every one was bury\u2019d\nin his own House, but afterwards it was forbidden by the Laws, lest the\nLiving might thereby be infected._ _Tolosanus in Syntagm. Juris\nuniversal_, Lib. 33. cap. 23. gives another Reason, _Ne Licentia illa\nSepeliendi familiares daret delinquendi & occisos occultandi\nOccasionem_. _Lest such a Liberty of Burying the Family, should give\noccasion of committing Murder and afterwards hiding it._\n[Sidenote: In _Gardens_.]\nSometimes the Ancients bury\u2019d in their Gardens, as we read _Manasseth\nwas interr\u2019d in the Garden of his own House, in the Garden of Uzza_, 2\nKings 21. 18. and _Tacitus_ tells us _Galba_\u2019s Body was bury\u2019d by\n_Argius_ his Steward, with little or no Ceremony, in his private Garden.\nWe read also of a Sepulchre in the Garden made by _Joseph_ of\n_Arimath\u00e6a_ to lay our Saviour\u2019s Body in, _John_ 19. 41.\n[Sidenote: In Fields.]\nThey likewise bury\u2019d in Fields, and so the _Patriarchs_ were said to be\nbury\u2019d in a Cave in the Field of _Machpelah_, Gen. 23. 20. also \u2019tis\nrelated that _Uzziah_ King of _Judah_ _slept with his Fathers, and was\nbury\u2019d with them in the Field of Burial which pertain\u2019d to the Kings_, 2\nChron. 26. 23. Tho\u2019 they term\u2019d these two last Private, because they\nbury\u2019d in Fields and Gardens belonging only to their own Families, yet,\nif it was possible, they always interr\u2019d their Dead in that part of the\nGarden or Field which lay nearest the common Road or Highway, thereby to\nput Passengers in mind of their Mortality.\n[Sidenote: In Highways.]\nFor this Reason they more frequently bury\u2019d in the Highways and public\nRoads, that by seeing the Monuments of the Dead the Memory of them might\nnot only be excited, but also the Living be encourag\u2019d to imitate the\nVirtues of such Great Men as were represented on those stately Tombs,\nand likewise to admonish them, that what they were they should also be.\nThis plainly appears by the Epitaphs and Inscriptions which always spoke\nto the Traveller after this manner:\n        SISTE VIATOR. ASPICE VIATOR. CAVE VIATOR, and the like.\n[Sidenote: In Mountains and Hills.]\nThe Ancients likewise bury\u2019d in Mountains and Hills. _Joshua_, Captain\nof the _Hebrews_, and _Eleazar_, Son of _Aaron_, were both bury\u2019d in\nMount _Ephraim_, _Joshua_ 24. 30, 33. _Judges_ 2. 9. and we read in 2\n_Kings_ 23. 16. that _as Josiah turn\u2019d himself, he spy\u2019d the Sepulchres\nthat were in the Mountain_. Likewise the _Grecians_ and _Romans_ bury\u2019d\ntheir Kings and Great Men either on the tops of Mountains, or at their\nfeet, as _Isiodorus_, Lib. 15. _Etimolog._ cap. 11. observes. Thus\n_Aventinus Sylvius_, King of the _Albans_, was interr\u2019d in the Hill that\nreceiv\u2019d its Name from him, as _Titus Livius_ and _Aurelius de Orig.\nGent. Roman._ testifie. _Virgil_ reports the same thing of King\n_Dercennus_, \u00c6n. 11. v. 850.\n               \u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014_Fuit ingens Monte sub alto,\n               Regis Dercenni terreno ex aggere Bustum._\n               A Tomb beneath a mighty Mount they rear\u2019d\n               For King _Dercennus_.\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\nHence likewise appears the Custom of raising a Mount over the Graves of\ngreat Persons, which _Lucan_ Lib. 8. speaking of the _Egyptians_, has\nthus express\u2019d:\n              _Et Regum Cineres extructo Monte quiescunt._\n               Beneath a Mount their Monarchs Ashes rest.\nSo also _Weever_ in his Funeral-Monuments, _p._ 6. observes, they were\nantiently wont to bury here in _England_ either on ridges of Hills, or\non spacious Plains fortify\u2019d or fenc\u2019d about with Obelisks, pointed\nStones, Pyramids, Pillars, or such like Monuments. For Example,\n_England_\u2019s Wonder on _Salisbury-Plain_ call\u2019d _Stonehenge_, the\nSepulchre of so many _Britains_, who, by the Treachery of the _Saxons_,\nwere slain there at a Parley: That of _Wada_ the _Saxon_ Duke near\n_Whitby_ in _Yorkshire_, and those of _Cartigerne_ the _Britain_, and\n_Horsa_ the _Saxon_ near _Ailesford_ in _Kent_. It was a thing usual\namong our _Saxon_ Ancestors (says _Verstegan_) as by _Tacitus_ it also\nseems to have been among the other _Germans_, that the dead Bodies of\nsuch as were slain in the Field, and bury\u2019d there, were not laid in\nGraves, but lying on the Ground were cover\u2019d over with Turfs or Clods of\nEarth, [Sidenote: In Plains cover\u2019d with Turfs, _&c._] and the more\nReputation they had had, the greater and higher were the Turfs rais\u2019d\nover them. This some us\u2019d to term _Byriging_, others _Beorging_, and\nsome _Buriging_, which we now call _Berying_ or _Burying_, which is\nproperly a shrouding or hiding the dead Body in the Earth. Of these\nkinds of Funeral-Monuments you have many on _Salisbury-Plain_, out of\nwhich the Bones of Bodies thus inhum\u2019d have oftentimes been dug. These\nPlaces the Inhabitants thereabouts call _Beries_, _Baroes_ or\n_Burroughs_, which agrees with the words _Byrighs_, _Beorghs_ or\n_Burghs_ spoken in the same Sence. From hence the Names of divers Towns\nand Cities were originally deriv\u2019d; Places first so call\u2019d having been\nwith Walls of Turf or Clods of Earth, fenc\u2019d about for Men to shroud\nthemselves in, as in Forts or Castles: Thus far _Weever_. We shall next\ntake notice that the _Romans_ antiently made their Graves of Turf, which\nthey call\u2019d _Injectio Gleb\u00e6_, and for the same Reason the Latin word\n_Tumulus_, which in its proper Sense imports no more than a Hillock,\ncame afterwards to signifie a Grave or Tomb. These were compos\u2019d of two\nparts, one the Grave or Tomb, and the other the Ground surrounding them,\nfenc\u2019d about with Pales, Walls, or the like. Here we may observe that\nmost of the Ancients Burials were without their Town and Cities, either\nfor fear the Air might be corrupted thro the stench of Putrefy\u2019d Bodies,\nor the Buildings endanger\u2019d by the frequency of Funeral-Fires; wherefore\nthey made choice of more convenient Places for their Interments in the\nSuburbs or Country, such as Mountains, Hills, Woods, Fields or Highways,\nwhich were barren Places; for as _Plato_, Lib. 12. _De Leg._ says, No\nSepulchre was to be made in a fertile Soil or fruitful Field, but that\nPlace was only to be us\u2019d which was steril and good for nothing else.\nNow tho\u2019 it was forbidden both by the _Greek_ and _Roman_ Laws,\n[Sidenote: _Burial_ in the _City_.] to bury within the Walls of Cities,\nyet was there nevertheless a Reserve made for some particular Persons,\nsuch as Emperors, Vestal-Virgins, and those that had merited Favour by\nsome extraordinary Action or Virtue. It seem\u2019d likewise an Honour due to\nLawyers, that they who had kept the Citizens in a healthful Concord\nwhilst alive, might when dead remain in the midst of them. Likewise we\noften read of Monuments erected in the _Forum_ or middle of the City,\nbut that we must look on as a Favour chiefly bestow\u2019d on Men of Worth,\nand public Benefactors; nay, sometimes Persons of a more than ordinary\nDesert and Excellency were permitted to be bury\u2019d in the Temples of the\nGods; and some are of Opinion, such Honours paid the Dead were the first\nCauses of erecting Temples; see _Arnobius_, Lib. 6. _advers. Gentes_,\nand _Isiodorus_, Lib. 15. _Origin._ cap. 11. Nor are later Times wholly\ndestitute of such Examples. We read moreover in the Holy Scripture, that\nPersons of eminent Ranks and Quality were bury\u2019d in the City. So _David_\nwas bury\u2019d in the City call\u2019d after his own Name, where also _Solomon_,\n_Abijam_, _Asa_, _Jehosaphat_, _Joram_, _Ahaziab_, _Jehoash_, _Amaziah_,\n_Azariah_, _Jothan_, _Ahaz_, _Rehoboam_, _Jehoiada_ and _Joash_ were\n16, 25. 27. 9. _Ahab_, _Jehu_, _Jehoahaz_, and the Kings of _Israel_\nwere interr\u2019d in the City of _Samaria_, and _Amaziah_ in the City of\n25. 28. with abundance of other Instances, too many to be related here:\nBesides it has long been the Custom of most modern Nations to bury in\ntheir Cities and Churches their Kings, Princes, Nobles, Gentry, Poets,\nand Men of the greatest Parts and Merit. The Emperors and Arch-Dukes of\n_Austria_ are bury\u2019d at _Vienna_, the Kings of _England_ in\n_Westminster-Abbey_, the Kings of _France_ in the Monastery of St.\n_Dennis_, the Kings of _Sueden_ at _Stockholm_, the Kings of _Poland_ at\n_Cracow_, the Electors of _Saxony_ at _Fridberg_, the Counts Palatine of\nthe _Rhine_ at _Heydelberg_, and the like, whereof see more Examples in\n_Quenstedt_, p. 205. and _Weever_, p. 8. but more especially in\n_Panvinus de Rit. Sepeliendi_, who gives a whole Catalogue of such\nKings, Princes and Priests as have been bury\u2019d in Churches. But to\nproceed to speak of the Nature and Distinction of such Places of\nSepulture as the Ancients us\u2019d, whether within or without the City, they\nwere distinguish\u2019d into _Proper_ and _Common_, _Family_ and _Hereditary\nBurial-Places_ or _Sepulchres_.\n[Sidenote: _Proper Sepulchres._]\n_Proper Sepulchres_ were such particular Places as any one reserv\u2019d for\nhimself, where none had ever been laid before, and from whence he could\nby his Will exclude any of his Heirs. To this purpose they inscrib\u2019d on\ntheir Tombs these Letters: H. M. H. N. S. that is, _Hoc Monumentum\nHeredes non sequitur_. Or these, H. M. _ad_ H. N. TRANS. _Hoc Monumentum\nad Heredes non transit._ Which Inscriptions are still to be met with in\nabundance of Places, and shew the Heir has no Right or Claim to Burial\nthere.\n[Sidenote: _Common Sepulchres._]\n_Common Sepulchres_ were such as the _Puticul\u00e6_ for the poorer Sort, the\n_Campus Martius_ for Men of Quality, Honour or Merit, the _Ceramnicus_\nfor such as were slain in War, and other the like Places to bury\nStrangers in, call\u2019d _Poluandria_. So we read the chief Priests of the\n_Jews_ bought the Potters Field for this Purpose, with Thirty pieces of\nSilver, which _Judas_ had taken to betray Christ, _Matth._ 27. 7.\n[Sidenote: _Family-Sepulchres._]\n_Family-Sepulchres_ were such as were only common to Heirs and\nPosterity, who had a right to be bury\u2019d therein: Some again were only\nfor the Husband and Wife, having this Inscription, _Sibi & Conjugi_;\nothers for the Children likewise, inscrib\u2019d _Sibi, Conjugi & Liberis_.\n[Sidenote: _Hereditary-Sepulchres._]\n_Hereditary-Sepulchres_ were such as the _Testator_ appointed for\nhimself and his Heirs, or acquir\u2019d by Right of Inheritance. These\nsometimes belong\u2019d to the whole Family, as to Children and Relations:\nNow for the better understanding how these Sepulchres were made, which\nwere capable of holding such a number of Persons, we must observe they\nwere certain Caves, Grots or Vaults dug under Ground, and divided into\nseveral Partitions, in which each Body being put up in a Coffin of\nStone, Lead, Wood, _&c._ these Coffins were laid each in its own\nApartment; for such Burial-Places were wont to have as many Divisions as\nthey design\u2019d Persons to be bury\u2019d in them: Thus some became unlimited,\npossessing several Miles of Ground; such were the _Crypt\u00e6 Kiovienses_,\nwhich _Herbinius_ has wrote a Book of, and the Catacombs of _Rome_ and\n_Naples_, of which you have an exact Account in _Bosio_\u2019s _Roma\nSubterranea_, and Bishop _Burnet_\u2019s Travels. The _Greeks_ call\u2019d such a\nBurial-Place, \u1f59\u03a0\u1ff9\u0393\u0395\u0399\u039f\u039d, \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd, _sub Terra_, _Hypogeum_, and the\n_Latins_ _Crypta_, deriving the Word from the Greek \u03ba\u03c1\u1f7b\u03c0\u03c4\u03b7, _a_ \u03ba\u03c1\u1f7b\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9,\n_abdo_; _quia abdita est_. These serving not only for Sepultures to the\nPrimitive _Christians_, but during the Time of Persecution, for hiding\nPlaces, where they held Synods and administred the Sacraments, as\n_Panvinus_ in Lib. _De C\u00e6miteriis_, cap. 11 relates. These Subterranean\nCaves were at first dug only out of the Earth, but afterwards they were\nhew\u2019d out of solid Rocks, or else curiously wrought and pay\u2019d with\nStone, being arch\u2019d above, and adorn\u2019d with no less Art and Care than\nthe Houses of the Living; insomuch that it was customary to place Lamps\nin these Subterranean-Vaults, whither such Mourners as had a mind to\nexpress an extraordinary Concern for the Deceas\u2019d, retir\u2019d, cloistering\nthemselves up for many Days and Nights, whereof we have an Example in\n_Petronius_\u2019s Story of the _Ephesian_ Matron. Thus the _Egyptians_ and\n_Persians_ bury\u2019d in Caves dug out of solid Rocks, or at the bottoms of\nsuch stony Mountains, as _Diodorus Siculus_ and other Writers inform us.\nThere was also at _Nismes_ in _Languedoc_ a _Crypta_ found, with a rich\ninlaid Pavement and Niches round about the Wall, in each of which gilded\nGlass-Urns full of Ashes were set in order. The _Jews_ likewise hew\u2019d\ntheir Sepulchres out of Rocks, into which they descended thro\u2019 a narrow\nPassage, which was shut up with a Stone, as appears by that of\n_Lazarus_, John 11. 38. and that of _Joseph_ of _Arimath\u00e6a_, wherein our\nSaviour\u2019s Body was laid, _Matth._ 27. 60.\n[Sidenote: _Cenotaphs._]\nThus far we have treated of Sepulchres properly so call\u2019d, now we will\nspeak of such as were erected to preserve the Memories of those that\nwere bury\u2019d else-where, whence they came to be call\u2019d \u039a\u0395\u039d\u039f\u03a4\u1fbb\u03a6\u0399\u039f\u039d,\n_i. e._ \u03ba\u03b5\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f71\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2, _inanis Tumulus_, _Tumulus sine Corpore_, a\nSepulchre rais\u2019d in Honour of some Person, and wherein his Body had\nnever been laid. Of these there were two sorts, one erected to such as\nhad been honour\u2019d with Funeral-Rites in another _Place_, and the other\nfor those who had never obtain\u2019d any. _First_, They built these\nSepulchres for Religions sake, by reason they thought the Souls of those\nthat had been depriv\u2019d of the Rites and Honours of Sepulture wander\u2019d\nabout, and could never pass the _Stygian_ Lake: See _page_ 21.\n_Secondly_, They esteem\u2019d it the next Felicity to Sepulture to lye in\ntheir own Country, wherefore when any one died in a forreign Land, they\nthrice invok\u2019d his Ghost or Soul, which thereby, as they thought,\nspeedily hastening to them, they erected a Tomb or Monument for it. This\nwithout doubt afforded no small Joy and Comfort, by reason they believ\u2019d\nin doing thus, their Bodies were driven under Ground to their own\nCountry, and the _Jews_ even at this Day believe, that immediately after\ntheir Deaths their Souls pass into the Land of _Canaan_. _Nicolaius_,\nLib. _De Luctu Gr\u00e6corum_, p. 17. It was also customary, among the\nnearest Friends and Relations, to build various Tombs for one and the\nsame Person, and that in various Places, which they did to do the\nDeceas\u2019d the more Honour, as _Dionysius Halicarnasseus_, Lib. 1.\n_Antiqu. Roman._ observes. We may also gather from _Prudentius_, Lib.\n\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f77 \u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c6\u1f71\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd that the _Christians_ built _Cenotaphs_ in Honour of their\nMartyrs, and _Gretserius de Funer. Christi_, Lib. 3. cap. 6. says, they\nwere erected in Commemoration of the Deceas\u2019d. Hence may be likewise\ngather\u2019d the Use and Benefit of Tombs, [Sidenote: Use and Benefit of\n_Tombs_.] as _First_, That they were erected in Honour to the Deceas\u2019d.\n_Secondly_, Often Built at the public Cost, as a Reward to Virtue and\nValour. And, _Lastly_, they were moreover thought to be a Comfort to the\nLiving; for as _Theodoric_ gravely said, Bodies bury\u2019d in Coffins and\nTombs were esteem\u2019d no small Consolation to Mourners, inasmuch as the\nSouls of the Deceas\u2019d departed only from the Conversation of the World,\nwhereas their Bodies did not for some time leave their surviving\nFriends: If therefore such Things could afford so great satisfaction to\nthe Living, how much more would it delight them to see the Bodies of\ntheir dead Ancestors, with a long Lineage of their Family, so perfect as\nto distinguish their Persons and Sex by the preserv\u2019d Features, and this\nwithout any offensive Smell or deform\u2019d Aspect, as we are well assur\u2019d\nboth the _Egyptians_ and the Inhabitants of _Teneriff_ us\u2019d to do, which\nis not even impossible to perform at this Day? The Ancients were so\nexceedingly carefull of every particular Ceremony in Funeral-Rites, that\nthey made it the chief Point of their Religion to perform them, as an\nindispensible Duty their Gods requir\u2019d of them, and their Laws strictly\nmaintain\u2019d; so that to neglect them was the greatest Cruelty, and to\nviolate them a capital Crime and Sacriledge. They added every thing to\ntheir Sepulchres that could make them Sacred, Honourable and Respected,\nor which could transmit their Names to Posterity, their Fame to\nEternity, and their Ashes to Perpetual Repose.\n[Sidenote: How adorn\u2019d and with what _Inscriptions_.]\nBesides, they were wont to carve thereon the Arms, Trophies, Coat-Armour\nand Effigies of the Deceas\u2019d, subjoining moreover such _Elogiums_ and\nInscriptions as best express\u2019d their Family, Virtues, Studies,\nEmploiments, Works or noble Actions; their Condition of Life, Age, Time\nand Cause of Death, and in a Word, whatever else was Remarkable in them\nand worthy Commemoration. [Sidenote: How call\u2019d.] These Structures for\nthe Dead were call\u2019d after several Names, from the several Uses they\nwere put to when erected; for some contain\u2019d whole Bodies, others their\nAshes only, and some neither one nor the other, being only built to\ntransmit the Memory of the Party deceas\u2019d to succeeding Ages, whence\nthey were call\u2019d _Cenotaphs_. [Sidenote: _Cenotaphs._ _Sepulchres._]\n_Sepulchres_ were so nam\u2019d _a Sepeliendo_, which signifies _committing\nto the Ground_, _laying up therein_, or _hiding_ or _covering with\nEarth_, whence _burying_ came to be call\u2019d _Sepulture_, and\n_Burial-Places_ _Sepulchres_. _Scipio Gentilis_, Lib. _Origin. Sing._\nsays, _Monumentum quasi Munimentum dicitur, quod Causa Muniendi ejus\nLoci factum est_. Monuments _were sometimes very fitly call\u2019d_\nMuniments, [Sidenote: _Muniments._] _by reason they fenc\u2019d in and\ndefended the Corps from being torn out of its Grave by Savage Beasts_,\nand likewise preserv\u2019d the same from all farther Violation. They were\ncall\u2019d _Tumuli_, [Sidenote: _Tombs._] _quod coacervata ibi Terra\ntumeat_, because Turf or Earth was wont to be heap\u2019d over them, which\nthe higher it was the more Honourable; but these being easily scratch\u2019d\nup by _Hyena\u2019s_, Wolves, and the like voracious Animals, and because the\nAncients bury\u2019d at first far out of Cities, in the Highways, Woods,\nHills and Mountains, thence says _Servius_ on _\u00c6neid._ 11. _Factum est\naut Pyramides fierent, aut ingentes collocarentur Column\u00e6._ _They\nerected either Pyramids or Columns over their Graves._ [Sidenote:\n_Memories_,] They were also call\u2019d _Memories_, _a Memoria_, and\n_Monuments_, [Sidenote: _Monuments_.] _a monendo, quia monebant Mentem_,\nbecause as St. _Austin_ says, Lib. _De Cura pro Mortuis_, we are by them\nput in Mind and warn\u2019d to consider our frail Condition, they being\nexternal Helps to excite and stir up our inward Thoughts, to have the\nremembrance of Death before our Eyes, that our deceas\u2019d Brethren may not\nbe out of our Minds, tho\u2019 they are out of our sight. Much the same\nEtymology of a Monument _Varro_ gives, Lib. 5. _De Lingua Latina_, and\n_Weever_ of Funeral-Monuments, _p._ 9. has collected such another out of\na Manuscript in the _Cotton_ Library, entitul\u2019d, _The Register of_\nGray-Friars _in_ London.\n[Sidenote: _Dormitories._]\nThe _Christians_ us\u2019d to call Sepulchres _Dormitories_ or _Sleeping\nPlaces_, where the Bodies of the Faithful rested in their Graves as in\ntheir Beds, _vide_ p. 17. The _Pagans_ also gave them the like\nSynonymous Names, such as _Quietorium_, _Requietorium_, _&c._ [Sidenote:\n_Resting-Places._] _Scilicet ubi quiescant condita Corpora._ _Places of\nRest and Quiet for the Dead._ [Sidenote: _Seats._] They were likewise\nantiently call\u2019d _Seats_, as appears by this old Inscription, _Hanc\nSedem sibi Vivi posuerunt_, and that of _Virgil_ in his 6th _\u00c6neid_.\n                   \u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014_Quam Sedibus Ossa quierunt._\n              How they their Bones in quiet Seats do rest!\n[Sidenote: _Houses._]\nSometimes they were call\u2019d _Houses_, in that there is no House so much\nand truly our own as our Grave, whence _Job_ rightly express\u2019d himself,\n_Chap._ 30. _ver._ 23. _I know thou wilt bring me to Death, and to the\nHouse appointed for all Men Living_. Likewise _Chap._ 4. 9. he terms\nthem _Houses of Clay_, but _Isaiah_ Chap. 14. 18. describes them more\nelegantly in these Words, _All the Kings of the Nations lye in Glory,\nevery one in his own House_. Others gave them still more pompous Titles,\nsuch as _Domus \u00c6terna_, _Domus \u00c6ternitatis_, _&c._ for as _Diodorus\nSiculus_, Lib. 1. _Bibl. Histor._ relates, The _Egyptians_ accounted the\nHouses they liv\u2019d in but as Inns, by reason their stay was so short in\nthem, whereas they deem\u2019d their Sepulchres more durable and eternal, and\nthis because they believ\u2019d the Dead were always to abide and continue in\nthem, so that they took more Care of, and were at far greater Charge\nabout them than their Houses: Also that these might be the more lasting\nand permanent, the Ancients spared no Cost nor Trouble, but with\nprodigious Labour and Expence rais\u2019d them out of Marble, Stone, Brass or\nthe like. The _\u00c6thiopians_ made some of their Monuments of Glass, as\n_Herodotus_, Lib. 3. cap. 6. relates in these Words: _Deinde Cippum ei\ncavum e Vitro, quod apud illos multum est, & facile effoditur,\ncircumdant: In ejus medio Mortuus interlucet, ut ab Hominibus conspici\nqueat, &c._ _Afterwards they enclose him in a Coffin of Glass, which is\nplentiful with them and easily dug: In the midst of it the dead Body so\nshines, that he may be seen of all._ _Alexander ab Alexandro_, Lib. 6.\n_Gen. Dier._, cap. 14. says, The _Egyptians_ had three sorts of\nSepulchres, one of great Expence, which cost a Talent of Silver, another\nof 20 _Min\u00e6_, and a third kind of smaller Cost and Value; but the\n_\u00c6thiopians_ were more famous for their Monuments, those of the richer\nSort being made of Gold, the middle kind of Silver, and the poorer ones\nof Earth.\n[Sidenote: _Funeral-Ceremonies_ how and when useful.]\nBut I fear, Sir, you\u2019ll think I have digress\u2019d too much from my Subject\nof _Embalming_, yet what I have said, was in order to shew how far\nFuneral-Rites and Ceremonies are useful and allowable, when accompany\u2019d\nwith this Art, and on the contrary, how vain and ridiculous they are\nwhen us\u2019d without it, especially if they do but in the least exceed the\nBounds of Modesty and Frugality. What tho\u2019 other Ceremonies be perform\u2019d\nwith the greatest Splendor and Exactness, they can give no other\nSatisfaction than the Decency of Burial, or performing perhaps the Will\nof the Dead; for the Body will nevertheless stink, corrupt, and it may\nbe startle the nearest Friend to see it a while after? Then shall his\nBones not be known, nor his Ashes be distinguish\u2019d from another Mans,\nnay even from common Earth, so that the parcimonious Heir may well\nreflect, how vain and needless it would have been to have bestow\u2019d more\nthan a decent Expence on his Funeral. Nor does it signifie much which\nway the Body be dissolv\u2019d, in regard it comes to the same End without\n_Embalming_, and that such Tombs, how splendid soever, are but in effect\n_Cenotaphs_ or empty Sepulchres, except that they are full of Stench and\nRottenness: [Sidenote: _Funeral-Expences_ insignificant without\n_Embalming_.] We must therefore look upon it as the most extravagant\nVanity to erect Pyramids, Obelisks, Tombs, _&c._ for preserving an empty\nairy Name and meer Shadow, while we neglect to keep any Remains of that\nnoble Workmanship the Body, whereby to distinguish Man from Earth and\nDust. That these Practices are not commendable is plainly prov\u2019d in St.\n_Matthew_\u2019s Gospel, _Chap._ 23. 27, 29. where our _Saviour_ describing\nHypocrites, compares them to such Tombs and Sepulchres, in these Words,\n_Wo unto you Scribes and Pharisees, Hypocrites, for ye are like unto\nwhited Sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful without, but within are\nfull of dead Mens Bones and all Uncleanness_. That is, the rigid _Jews_\naffected plaister\u2019d and whited Sepulchres, in Cadaverous and corrupted\nBurials, garnishing their Tombs only outwardly, when within they were\nfull of Stench and Rottenness: But we shall endeavour to prove, that of\nall Funeral-Ceremonies, _Embalming_ is the chief and most useful,\nwithout which, all the rest are but vain, expensive and insignificant\nCustoms. [Sidenote: Why the Body is to be taken Care of.] We are not\nignorant some may object why the Body should be so much taken Care of,\nsince by Death there is a separation made of the Soul, that more noble\nPart being fled, while the baser only is left. To this we must assent,\nthat the Body is depriv\u2019d much of its Dignity and Worth by such a\nSeparation, inasmuch as it is but an ignoble Lump in respect of the\nSoul, yet are we not to neglect and despise it, but rather to esteem it\nthe more for the Souls sake, in that it has once been in a happy State\nof conjunction with it, and that it shall again come to be reunited\ntherewith. The Soul, says _Sandys_, p. 105. knowing it self by Divine\nInstinct to be Immortal, does in a manner desire the Body, her belov\u2019d\nCompanion, may, as far as may be, enjoy the like Felicity with her,\ngiving by lofty Monuments, and the Duties of Funerals, all possible\nEternity with her. With this _Hen. Salmuth_, _Comment. in Panciroll._\n_Pars_ 1. pag. 336. agrees, saying, _Consentaneum est Veritati &\nObservanti\u00e6, imo indubitatum est Sapientibus, qu\u00e6dam nobis cognata esse\nSemina Immortalitatis; cujus adeo appetentes sumus, ut etiam Sepultur\u00e6\nprospiciamus, & nolimus Cadaver nostrum male haberi. Humanum Ingenium\nquod Anim\u00e6 nostr\u00e6 vis est, cum se sciat Immortale, optat etiam ut Corpus\nipsum quoq; & Comes & Domicilium suum quoad fieri potest eadem\nF\u00e6licitate perfruatur._ _It is both agreeable to Truth and Observation,\nand not to be doubted by Wise Men, that there are in us some innate\nSeeds of Immortality, which we so desirously seek, as to take Care both\nof our Sepulture, and that our Carcass be not ill treated. Human\nUnderstanding, which is the Force of the Soul, knowing it self Immortal,\ndesires also the Body, which is its Companion and Habitation, may enjoy\nas much as may be the same Felicity she her self has._ [Sidenote: The\n_Soul_ concern\u2019d at the Usage of the _Body_.] For tho\u2019 the Body be not\nsensible, yet the Soul which cannot die, mourns sadly when its Companion\nis either ill treated or neglected; but on the contrary rejoyces when it\nis Honour\u2019d and taken Care of. This _Lucretius_ hints at, where he shews\nhow Man, who whilst living, knows what will happen after Death, as that\nhis Body shall corrupt or be devour\u2019d by Birds, Beasts, _&c._ or burn\u2019d\nby Fire, commiserates himself for not having been created Immortal, and\nconsequently departs out of this World regretfully, see _p._ 23. This is\nalso farther confirm\u2019d by _Julius C\u00e6sar Scaliger_, Lib. 3. _Poetices_,\ncap. 20. who says, Altho\u2019 the dead Body neither perceives what Condition\nit is in, nor is any longer with the Soul, yet Man when living has a\nSense of all those things his Body must undergo after his Dissolution.\nNow if Death were only ceasing to be, act or breath, then were that\nState most desirable, inasmuch as Man would then only rest from his\nLabours, and be by this means freed from the Troubles and Afflictions of\nthis Life. Whereas on the contrary to be dissolv\u2019d or to become a Prey\nto ravenous Beasts, Birds and Fishes, or an Heritage to Serpents and\nWorms, is ungrateful to our Thoughts, miserable to our Sight, and\nunpleasant to all our Senses; such a State being not only disagreeable\nto our Nature, but also dishonouring and debasing of the Noble Image of\nGOD, _pag._ 9. and 10. \u2019Tis this occasions great sadness of Mind to Man\nwhilst living, and makes him die the more regretfully: It grieves him\nexceedingly to think what a miserable Object of Mortality he is like to\nprove after Death, how ugly and deform\u2019d, how offensive to his Friends,\nand only fit for the Conversation of such new born Insects and Reptiles\nas are bred out of, and live by Stench and Corruption. What a\n_Metathesis_ is this! that he who perhaps was born of Royal Blood, and\nkept Company with Kings and Princes, shall now cry out with _Job_, 17.\n14. _To Corruption, thou art my Father; To the Worm, thou art my Mother\nand Sister_. Whereas on the contrary, he who is assur\u2019d of being\n_Embalm\u2019d_, and having all other Funeral-Rites perform\u2019d to him, closes\nhis Eyes in full satisfaction of lying undisturb\u2019d in his Grave, as in\nhis Bed, and enjoying Eternal Rest. [Sidenote: Therefore the _Body_ is\nto be taken Care of.] Besides, other Considerations may induce us to\ntake Care of the Body; for would you not think it a strange Disgrace for\na Prince to dwell in a Hutt, and his Jewels and other Riches to be laid\nup in a Sink of Filthiness? Surely such as the Prince is, such ought to\nbe the Palace wherein he dwells, and such as are the Jewels, such ought\nto be the Cabbinet that contains them. The Soul is the most precious\nThing in this World, and accordingly GOD has enclos\u2019d it with a Cover,\nthe Body, the most beautifully compos\u2019d next to it that can be; Shall we\ndespise therefore this Cover, because Death has separated it from the\nSoul? No, let us rather esteem it the more, and take the more Care to\npreserve it, inasmuch as it has once been the Casket of that noble\nJewel, and is the only Way of representing that Divine Form which GOD\nAlmighty was pleas\u2019d to impress on it. We may perhaps vainly please our\nselves with having the Picture of our deceas\u2019d Friend, which\nnevertheless consists but of a few Lights and Shadows, or it may be we\nhave his Statue, which however wants the natural Complection and Air of\nhis Person: \u2019Tis true Pictures or Statues may preserve in our Minds our\nFriends Memories, and so in some measure redeem them from the Injuries\nof Oblivion, yet will they still but very faintly and imperfectly\nrepresent that Body, to which _Embalming_ gives a real Presence, and\nwhich may at any Time be essay\u2019d by our Senses. _Aristotle_ adds\nfarther, _Corpore in Putredinem abeunte, nec Anima amare, nec reminisci\npotest_. _That the Soul neither remembers nor loves the Body when\nPutrify\u2019d_; which is agreeable to the Opinion of the _Egyptians_,\n[Sidenote: The _Egyptians_ Belief of a dead Body.] who pleasantly\nconceited, that the Soul only left the Body when it was Corrupt and\nPutrify\u2019d, as abhorring so loathsome an Habitation; whereas on the\ncontrary, it never forsook it when it was preserv\u2019d uncorrupt and\nentire. For this reason they, with extraordinary Art and Care,\n_Embalm\u2019d_ their Dead, that so the Body by the Cleanliness of its\nMansion, by its being deliciously perfum\u2019d and dighted with all the\nAromatic and Odoriferous Spices and Gums of _Arabia_, and in a word, by\nits being dress\u2019d in fine Linnen, might court and incline its best\nCompanion, the Soul, to cohabit with it (_Prov._ 7. 16, 17.) Methinks so\ngood an Example from Heathens might excite us to take more Care of our\ninanimate Part. We are apt enough to respect the Outsides of other\nThings, and set a Value on their Insides accordingly; Why therefore\nshould we not with our utmost Care support our earthly Tabernacle from\nthe fatal Ruins of Death, that it may thereby continue in one State,\nlike the _Israelites_ Cloaths, without Wearing or Corrupting, and be\nTenantable at any Time, whenever the Soul shall return to inhabit it\nagain? Now as we are all desirous of Immortality, so ought we likewise\nto be of Eternity.\nThe desire of Living is as natural as the necessity of Dying inevitable,\nand some have spared no means to render themselves Immortal, if Human\nNature could possibly have arriv\u2019d at that State, but finding Death\ninexorable and irresistable, they alter\u2019d their Measures by inventing a\nthousand ways to perpetuate their Memories after their Dissolution; as\nby erecting Pyramids, Obelisks and Monuments of surprizing Magnificence,\non which they engrav\u2019d Inscriptions capable as they thought to resist\nTime, and to endure to Eternity. Yet of all Methods us\u2019d to preserve and\nperpetuate the Memories of the Dead, [Sidenote: _Embalming_ the best way\nof preserving the _Memory_ of the _Dead_.] it may justly be said of\n_Embalming_, that that Art has ever been most approv\u2019d by the Polite\nNations, as being undeniably the most considerable and efficacious Means\nto answer their Intention. For the utmost Care in erecting Monuments,\n_&c._ yields but an obscure and imperfect Idea of the Person deceas\u2019d,\nwhereas by _Embalming_, that very Person is known to be preserv\u2019d:\nBesides, if I may use the Words of Sir _Thomas Brown_ in his\n_Hydriotaphia_, _Who knows the Fate of his Bones, or how often he is to\nbe bury\u2019d? Who has the Oracle of his Ashes, or where they are to be\nscatter\u2019d?_ To be dug out of our Graves, have our Skulls made\nDrinking-Cups, and our Bones turn\u2019d into Pipes or Dice to delight and\nsport our Enemies, shew Juglers Tricks, or divert Gamesters: To have\nDrums made of our Skins, to please Children or terrifie in Battel, _&c._\nThese are tragical Abominations to dying Persons, the Consideration\nwhereof methinks should occasion us to take more care of our Interment.\nNow _Embalming_ prevents all these Things, not the common sort, for that\nis equally terrible to some People, but such as is perform\u2019d without\ncutting, slashing or Embowelling, which I shall hereafter shew. There\nare some indeed who object against all kinds of _Embalming_, and this\nbecause they think them contrary to Scripture and the Fate pronounc\u2019d to\nMan, [Sidenote: _Embalming_ not contrary to the _Scriptures_.] _Gen._ 3.\n19. but this and all other such like Scruples we shall fully clear, by\nexamining what Man is, that GOD should be so mindful of him (_Psalm_ 8.\n4.) and that notwithstanding his Transgression, he should so love him,\nas to be careful of preserving him both in Life and Death.\n[Sidenote: _Man\u2019s Elogium._]\nMan the Master-Piece of the Omniscient Architect, is but little\ninferiour to the Angels themselves, being made after GOD\u2019s own Image;\nfor his Use all other Creatures were made and put in Subjection to him:\nHe alone was endu\u2019d with a Rational and Immortal Soul, a beautiful\nSymmetry of Body, an Angelic Form, and a Countenance erect to Admire and\nWorship his Creator. The inquisitive Anatomist can never sufficiently\ninvestigate the noble Contrivance of his Organs; the profoundest\nNaturalist give Reasons for, or the most exquisite Mathematician pretend\nto imitate so Divine a Mechanism. Here\u2019s a Subject of Contemplation for\na Divine, or of a Psalm for the Royal Prophet, to shew how wonderfully\nMan is form\u2019d and crown\u2019d with Glory and Honour, to live for ever and\nnot see Corruption: [Sidenote: His _Transgression_] But alass! of how\nshort duration was this happy State? He was no sooner plac\u2019d in\nParadise, than, being puff\u2019d up with Pride, he grew disobedient and\ntransgress\u2019d; so that his Happiness was immediately chang\u2019d into a\nCurse, _That all his Days should be but Trouble and Sorrow, and he at\nlength return to the Dust from whence he was taken_. Thus the latter\npart of _Adam_\u2019s Curse was, that he should die and moulder away,\nwhereas, had he not transgress\u2019d, his Body had probably never been\ndestroy\u2019d, but translated. He would not then have undergon either Death\nor Corruption, nor would his Body have suffer\u2019d so long a Separation\nfrom his Soul; for in that State the Body was no less pure than the\nSoul, it was every way to be admir\u2019d, honour\u2019d and esteem\u2019d. It was, in\na word, nam\u2019d _The Temple of GOD_, but thro\u2019 Sin Man was curst with\nSickness and Infirmities whilst alive, and lastly, with Death, the\nshamefullest Reproach, thereby to suffer the Corruption of the Grave,\nand be Food to the vilest Reptiles of the Earth. Now as the Body was\nonce pure as well as the Soul, so is the Soul by Sin contaminated and\ndefil\u2019d as well as the Body, both being made liable to Corrupt and\nPutrifie thro\u2019 the Curse of Death, and to be like the Beasts of the\nField which perish Eternally.\n[Sidenote: And _Redemption_.]\nBut GOD, out of his infinite Love and Mercy to Mankind, sent his blessed\nSon as a Redeemer, to make Atonement for Man\u2019s Original Sin, whereby the\nCurse of his Transgression was wip\u2019d away, and Victory over Death and\nthe Grave obtain\u2019d. Again, As GOD has appointed as a Blessing,\nPhysicians for curing Diseases, that Man might enjoy a tolerable state\nof Health, till remov\u2019d from this Life, so has he in Death likewise\ngiven them a Knowledge to preserve them Incorruptible, which is the\npromis\u2019d Blessing, 1 _Cor._ 15. that tho\u2019 our Flesh be Corruptible, yet\nshall it put on Incorruption (by _Embalming_) and tho\u2019 we are Mortal and\ndie, yet shall we become Immortal, and so both Death and Sin be\nconquer\u2019d by Life Eternal. Now this may as well be understood in a\nLiteral Sense, agreeable to our Subject, as in a Spiritual one;\n[Sidenote: _Embalm\u2019d Bodies_ Sleep \u2019till the _Resurrection_.] for Bodies\nEmbalm\u2019d as aforesaid, seem not to be dead, but only asleep, waiting for\nthe Resurrection. For this Reason the _Hebrews_ call\u2019d their\nBurying-Places _Houses of the Living_, and the _Christians_ nam\u2019d theirs\n_Dormitories_ or _Sleeping-Places_, p. 17. where Bodies rest in their\nTombs as in their Beds. _Non Mortua, sed data Somno_, says _Prudentius_.\n_Their Bodies are not dead, but asleep_; for Death to _Christians_ is\nbut Sleeping, and Sleeping Rest, out of which they hope and expect to be\nawak\u2019d at the joyful Day of Resurrection, well knowing it is no more\ndifficult with GOD to raise them from Death than Sleep; so that to them\nDeath is but as it were a mute _Interludium_ to the Resurrection, a\nCessation of Labour and Action, and differs from Life only in Motion and\nSpeech: [Sidenote: _Death_ compar\u2019d to _Sleep_.] For this Reason Death\nis rightly compar\u2019d to Sleep, as being a Refreshment during the Night of\nthis World, till the Morning of the next. Thus _Jesus_ told the\nBy-Standers, _Matth._ 9. 24. _The Maid is not dead, but sleepeth_. _And\nthat Lazarus_ (who was _Embalm\u2019d_ and restor\u2019d to Life again) _slept_,\nJohn 11. 11. which the better to explain he afterwards told them he was\ndead, _ver._ 14. It is also written of the Martyr St. _Stephen_ that he\nfell asleep, _Acts_ 7. 60. See also _Dan._ 12. 2. and 1 _Thess._ 4. 13.\nand this way of speaking was more especially us\u2019d in the Old Testament,\nas I have already observ\u2019d, _p._ 36. _Prudentius_\u2019s Hymn _Ad Galli\nCantum_, p. 30. and that _Ante Somnum_, p. 46. excellently well compare\nDeath to Sleep, Sleep to Death, and Waking to the Resurrection. _Sleep_,\nsays Sir _Thomas Brown_ in his _Religio Medici_, p. 43. _is so like\nDeath, that I dare not trust it without my Prayers, and an half Adieu to\nthe World, taking my Farewel in this Colloquy with GOD_:\n                 The Night is come, like to the Day,\n                 Depart not Thou, Great GOD, away;\n                 Let not my Sins, black as the Night,\n                 Eclipse the Lustre of thy Light;\n                 Keep still my Horizon, for to me\n                 The Sun makes not the Day but Thee.\n                 Thou, whose Nature cannot sleep,\n                 On my Temples Centry keep;\n                 Guard me \u2019gainst those watchful Foes,\n                 Whose Eyes are open while mine close.\n                 Let no Dreams my Head infest,\n                 But such as _Jacob_\u2019s Temples blest:\n                 While I rest my Soul advance,\n                 Make my Sleep a Holy Trance,\n                 That I may, my Rest being wrought,\n                 Awake into some Pious Thought,\n                 And with as active Vigour run\n                 My Course, as does the nimble Sun.\n                 Sleep is Death, O make me try,\n                 By sleeping, what it is to die;\n                 And as gently lay my Head\n                 In my Grave as on my Bed.\n                 Howe\u2019er I rest, Great GOD, let me\n                 Awake again at last to Thee.\n                 And thus assur\u2019d behold I lye\n                 Securely, or to wake or die.\n                 These are my drowsie Days, in vain\n                 I now do wake to sleep again:\n                 O come that Hour when I shall never\n                 Sleep no more, but wake for ever.\n_This is the Dormitive I take to Bedward_, says my Author, _I need no\nbetter Hypnotic to make me sleep; after which I close mine Eyes in\nSecurity, content to take my leave of the Sun, and to sleep \u2019till the\nResurrection_.\nNow what this Learn\u2019d Author says of _Sleep_, the same may be said of\n_Embalming_; for this Art prevents the Corruption of the Grave, so that\nthe Body will remain entire, and as it were asleep in its Bed, \u2019till\nawak\u2019d by the last Trumpet to a joyful Resurrection, _where in its Flesh\nit shall see GOD_, Job 19. 26. and become Spiritual and Immortal. Hereby\nDeath has no more Power over us than a long Sleep, which refreshes us\nfrom our Labours, and makes us arise in that Everlasting Morning\nunweary\u2019d and undefil\u2019d to enjoy a perfect State of Bliss for ever.\nBesides, this Benefit accrues from seeing Bodies thus preserv\u2019d, that\nMen are thereby put in mind of that most desirable and delectable\nMystery of the Resurrection. [Sidenote: _Embalming_ an Emblem of the\n_Resurrection_.] _So we also that employ our Time and Labour in_\nEmbalming, says _Gabriel Clauder in Methodo Balsamandi_, p. 11. _have\nbefore our Eyes, as it were in a Looking-Glass, a Pr\u00e6ludium and Argument\nof the Resurrection, a Symbol of our Future Integrity, and Testimony of\nour Faith of the hoped for Incorruptibility and Everlasting Eternity_.\nThe _Pagans_ themselves were not without some Hopes of this nature, as\nappears from the extraordinary Care they bestow\u2019d on their Sepulchres\nand _Embalmings_. Very remarkable is the civiliz\u2019d Sepulture of the\nantient Inhabitants of _Teneriffe_, who Embalm\u2019d their Dead with\nsingular Art, and afterwards plac\u2019d them in deep Caves in several\nPostures, such as standing, lying, sitting, _&c._ These Burying-Places\nthey look on only as Dormitories, and rarely admit any one without leave\nto go into them, seeming as tho\u2019 they would not have them disturb\u2019d.\nThe Inhabitants of a Country call\u2019d _Zeilan_, as _Aria Montanus_\nrelates, do not bury their Dead, but _Embalm_ them with various\nAromatics, which done, they dress them in fine Cloaths, and afterwards\nset them on Benches, according to their distinct Families and Quality,\nwhereby they appear as if alive, and any one may there know his Father,\nGrandfather, Great Grandfather, or any other of his Predecessors or\nFamily to a long extent of Time. Much the same is reported of some of\nthe _Chineses_, _Laplanders_, _West-Indians_, _Egyptians_ and others, of\nwhom we shall give a full account in their proper Places. Now if the\n_Heathens_, who either did not believe, or would not own the\nResurrection of the Flesh, were so careful in _Embalming_ their Dead,\nmuch less are we to neglect it, who wait the Resurrection of our frail\nBodies, and expect when they shall become Incorruptible, Spiritual and\nImmortal, eternally enjoying the most perfect state of Bliss and\nHappiness: Besides, we _Christians_ ought to esteem _Embalming_ a pious\nWork, [Sidenote: Acceptable to GOD.] acceptable to GOD, because it frees\nus from that Corruption which he so much detests, and has so often\npronounc\u2019d and threatn\u2019d as his severest Judgment, _p._ 38, 39. GOD\nAlmighty has many Times permitted Mankind as well as Brutes and\nVegetables, so to petrifie without any Human Help or Assistance, as to\nremain for ever free from Putrefaction or Corruption, and sometimes has\neffected the same preservation of the Bodies of the Faithful, without\nany manifest alteration, but only a little attenuation or dryness, and\nthat without any ill Savour. Thus the Bodies of several Martyrs and Holy\nMen have been found in most Ages, especially those in the _Kiovian\nCrypt\u00e6_ or Vaults, which _Herbinius_ describes, and looks on as an\nInstance of GOD\u2019s Love, and Reward of their Piety and Virtues; Why\ntherefore should we think _Embalming_, or the artificial Preserving of\nBodies, either displeasing to GOD or unbecoming a _Christian_, since we\nhave so many Instances and Examples to the contrary? The Scriptures\ntestifie that GOD\u2019s antient People the _Hebrews_ _embalm\u2019d_ their Dead,\nand that the Patriarchs _Jacob_ and _Joseph_ were both _embalm\u2019d_; so\nalso _Joseph_ of _Arimath\u00e6a_ and _Nicodemus_, following the Footsteps of\ntheir Ancestors, honour\u2019d the Body of our _Saviour_ with _Embalming_.\nThis GOD Almighty was pleas\u2019d to permit, because, as _David_ says, _He\nwould not suffer his Holy One to see Corruption_, Psal. 16. 10. Now as\nChrist was bury\u2019d to shew he was really dead, so was he _embalm\u2019d_ in\norder to his Resurrection; and as his Holy Body was no ways defil\u2019d with\nOriginal Sin, so also thro\u2019 the special Privilege bestow\u2019d on it by GOD,\nwas it exempt from the Laws of Corruption. Now this is moreover\nremarkable, that before our _Saviour_ was born for the Redemption of\nMankind, lost by _Adam_\u2019s Transgression, GOD shew\u2019d a more than ordinary\nInstance of his Love to Man, by the preservation of Holy _Enoch_ and\n_Elijah_, both who, had they been bury\u2019d, [Sidenote: _Enoch_ and\n_Elijah_ neither dy\u2019d nor corrupted.] must of consequence corrupted\nunder that Curse, _Gen._ 3. 19. wherefore that they might not undergo\nthose Alterations there threatn\u2019d, _viz._ Death and Corruption, GOD\nAlmighty translated them: These two with our _Saviour_ are the only\nInstances of a visible Ascention, and who suffer\u2019d no Corruption.\n[Sidenote: _Embalming_ approv\u2019d by our _Saviour_.]\nTo these Reasons we may add what Christ himself witnesses, that he was\nso far from being displeas\u2019d at the _Embalming_ his Body, that he chid\nthose about him, when they were angry at the Womans pouring such\nprecious Nard Ointment on his Head, which, as they alledg\u2019d, might have\nbetter been sold for more than Three Hundred Pence (about 10 _l._ of our\nMony) and given to the Poor, _Mark_ 14. 6, 8, 9. _Jesus said, let her\nalone, why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good Work on me, she is\ncome aforehand to anoint my Body to the Burial. Verily I say unto you,\nwheresoever this Gospel shall be preach\u2019d throughout the whole World,\nthis also that she hath done shall be spoken of, for a Memorial of her._\nIn a word, this _Art_ of _Embalming_ is sufficiently warranted both by\nthe Old and New Testament, and equally celebrated by _Jewish_,\n_Christian_ and _Heathen_ Writers.\nHaving now done with my Theological Arguments, I shall next proceed to\nvindicate the _Art_ of _Embalming_ by some Physical and Political\nReasons. _First_ then, [Sidenote: _Embalming_, in a general Sense, very\nExtensive.] If we take this Art in a general Sense of preserving the\nMemory of Man, as well as his Body, we shall find it very Extensive and\nInfinite, since both the Industry and Ingenuity of the Ancients have not\nonly sought after the surest Means of effecting this, but likewise\ninvented and contriv\u2019d whatever else might preserve the Body, transmit\nits Name to Posterity, and Fame to Eternity. Some have for this end\nerected Pyramids, Obelisks, Columns, Temples, Statues and a thousand\nother Things, whereby they imagin\u2019d they might secure their Names from\nOblivion; whereas others thought Poems, Epigrams, Epitaphs and such like\nWritings were the best and securest Monuments. [Sidenote: _Writings_\nthought the best _Monuments_.] Of this Opinion was _Horace_, who, at the\nend of his Third Book, thus boasts of his Works:\n                _Exegi Monumentum \u00c6re perennius,\n                Regaliq; situ Pyramidum altius:\n                Quod non Imber edax, non Aquilo impotens\n                Possit diruere, aut innumerabilis\n                Annorum series, & Fuga Temporum.\n                Non omnis moriar, multaq; Pars mei\n                Vitabit Libitinam._\u2014\u2014\n      A Monument, more lasting far than Brass,\n      I\u2019ve rais\u2019d, which Pyramids shan\u2019t in height surpass:\n      Nor fretting Showers, nor blustring Winds deface,\n      Nor flights of Years and Hours, tho\u2019 numberless, shall raze.\n      I shall not die whilst thus my better Part\n      Avoids the Grave.\u2014\u2014\nIn like manner _Ovid_ gives an endless date to himself, and his\n_Metamorphosis_ in these Words:\n           _Jamq; Opus exegi: quod nec Jovis Ira, nec Ignis,\n           Nec poterit Ferrum, nec edax abolere Vetustas.\n           Cum volet illa Dies, qu\u00e6 nil nisi Corporis hujus\n           Jus habet, incerti Spatium mihi finiat \u00c6vi:\n           Parte tamen meliore mei super alta perennis\n           Astra ferar; Nomenq; erit indelibile nostrum.\n           Quaq; patet domitis Romana Potentia Terris,\n           Ore legar Populi; perq; omnia secula Fama\n           (Si quid habent veri Vatum Pr\u00e6sagia) vivam._\n           And now the Work is finish\u2019d, which _Jove_\u2019s Rage,\n           Nor Fire, nor Sword shall hurt, nor eating Age.\n           Come when it will my Death\u2019s uncertain Hour,\n           Which only o\u2019er my Body can have Power;\n           My better Part shall far transcend the Skie,\n           And my Immortal Name shall never die:\n           For wheresoe\u2019er the _Roman_ Eagles spread\n           Their conquering Wings, I shall of all be read;\n           And if we Prophets truly can Divine,\n           I, in my deathless Fame, shall ever shine.\nBoth these Poetical Flourishes may be esteem\u2019d a kind of _Embalming_\ntheir Authors Actions and Names; for as the aforesaid historical\nStructures preserve and record our Actions, so are our Thoughts and\nSayings _embalm\u2019d_ as it were by Writings. [Sidenote: _Fame_ the\n_Goddess_ of _Embalming_.] In this respect _Fame_ may not improperly be\ncall\u2019d the _Goddess_ and _Patroness_ of _Embalming_, and _Mercury_ her\nchief Minister to proclaim to the World the Heroic Acts of Memorable and\nFamous Men: Thus all Things intended to preserve a Name, whether\nPictures, Statues, Medals, Buildings or Writings, may be comprehended\nunder this general Sense of _Embalming_; nevertheless, experience\nteaches us the preservation of a Body by the _Balsamic Art_ is not only\nthe best way of reviving Mens Memories, and bringing their Merits fresh\nin our Minds, but also the most durable, [Sidenote: _Embalming_ the most\ndurable Thing.] for not only Tombs and Statues have decay\u2019d in a few\nYears, but also whole Towns and Cities have been ruin\u2019d and demolish\u2019d\nwithin the Revolution of an Age, and that so, as hardly to have one\nStone left to witness what they have been; whereas _Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies\nhave been found entire after Thousands of Years. Neither is _Embalming_\nto be commended only for its Duration, [Sidenote: Useful in _Philosophy_\nand _Physic_.] but likewise for its great Use in _Phisiology_, _Natural\nPhilosophy_ and _Physic_, as we have hinted before, _p._ 2, 3, 4. In\nthat we thereby know how to conserve all sorts of Herbs, Juices, _&c._\nkeep all kinds of Flesh and Fish, and preserve all sorts of Plants, rare\nExotics, and such like Curiosities.\n[Sidenote: In _Anatomy_.]\n_Embalming_ is likewise particularly useful in _Anatomy_, inasmuch as it\nteaches how Bodies may be preserv\u2019d, that the most minute Parts may be\nDissected, and such Preparations made as will remain to Posterity, and\nserve instead of Books, Sculptures or Pictures, by which the Disposition\nof the Human Fabric may be more accurately distinguish\u2019d, and the Names\nand Uses of the Parts easier retain\u2019d in our Memories.\n[Sidenote: In _Surgery_.]\nIt is also particularly useful to _Physicians_ and _Surgeons_, _First_,\nIn that by opening such Bodies, they may presently see the Nature and\nCause of Diseases. And, _Secondly_, by understanding what _Fermentation_\nand _Putrefaction_ are, together with the Virtues and Qualities of\n_Embalming_-Drugs that prevent and resist them, they may be better able\nto cure malignant Feavers, Mortifications, _&c._ See _p._ 3, 4. for no\nsooner is there a Separation of the Soul from the Body, but an immediate\ntendency to Putrefaction follows: The florid colour of the Face\nvanishes, the Belly swells, the Entrails turn green and f\u0153tid, and the\nextreme Parts become shrivel\u2019d and contracted; when we may well cry out,\n_Quantum mutatus ab illo!_ So suddain an Alteration ensues without a\nprevious _Balsamation_. What obdurate Hearts and pitiless Eyes can then\nbear such a miserable Object, when _Embalming_ so easily prevents it, by\nrendring the Body sweet and decorous, retaining still its natural Form,\nFeature and Shape? Again, if we consider the natural and innate Desire\nmost People have of being bury\u2019d in their own Tombs and Countries,\n[Sidenote: Necessary for _Transporting Bodies_.] we shall find there is\na necessity of _Embalming_ such Bodies, the better to convey those that\ndie in Foreign Parts to their Native Soil. Thus _Jacob_ and _Joseph_\nwere transported from _Egypt_ to _Canaan_, whereas, had their Bodies not\nbeen _embalm\u2019d_, they must necessarily have corrupted in their Journey;\nbut as for the _Greeks_ and _Romans_, who were not well acquainted with\nthis Art, they were forc\u2019d to burn such Bodies as dy\u2019d abroad, and were\ncontented only to bring home their Ashes, which _Ovid_ seems so very\ndesirous of in the following Verses:\n              _Ossa tamen facito parva referantur in Urna,\n              Sic Ego non etiam Mortuus, Exul ero._\n               Let but my Country have my Funeral-Urn,\n               And after Death, tho\u2019 exil\u2019d, I\u2019ll return.\nNow certainly they would have thought it much better to have brought\nover the whole Body than part of it, had they been but skillful enough\nto have _embalm\u2019d_ it; for there is no other difference between\nIncineration and Putrefaction, than length of Time, therefore both are\nequally to be avoided. Nay, some of the _Heathens_ themselves have\njudg\u2019d it an Impiety towards the Dead, either to commit them to the\nFire, or to Worms and Corruption, therefore they endeavour\u2019d, as much as\nin them lay, to _Embalm_ and Preserve them thereby from both. Now\nnothing is more evident, than that those who intend to preserve a Body\nentire, ought neither to burn nor bury it, but keep it in a proper\nRepository, contriv\u2019d to resist the Injuries of Time and Weather, and\nwhich is neither expos\u2019d nor obnoxious to Putrefaction.\nTo Conclude, _Embalming_ not only prevents the Plague and Putrefaction,\nand consequently frees from the Terror and Deformity of Death, _page_ 9,\n11, 12. [Sidenote: Secures from the Insults of Animals, _&c._] but\nlikewise defends and secures dead Bodies from Insults of Brutes and\nInsects, by reason of its bitter ungrateful Taste: Yet considering the\nantient Way of the _Egyptians_ by rowling, and the modern by wrapping up\nin Cerecloaths, so obscure the Object, and also are so imperfect on\nseveral other Accounts; I have endeavour\u2019d to shew a possibility of\ninventing a Method, how to preserve the whole _Compages_ of the Body for\never without Putrefaction, in such manner, that its Texture and\nStructure may remain entire, of the same Proportion as before, and of\nthe same Colour and Flexibility, without any visible contraction,\ndiminution or unconformity of the Parts whereby the dead Corps may be\nhandled by the _Anatomists_ without any offensive Smell or fastidious\n_Mador_. St. _Jerome_, in _Epitaph. Paul. Eustoch._ speaks thus of\n_Paulina_ a _Roman_ Lady, _Quodq; mirum sit nihil Pallor mutaverit\nFaciem, sed ita Dignitas qu\u00e6dam omnia compleverat, ut putares non\nmortuam sed dormientem_. _And what is wonderful, Paleness had not in the\nleast alter\u2019d her Countenance, but Majesty was so preserv\u2019d_ (_by_\nEmbalming) _in every Feature, that you would not have thought her dead\nbut asleep_. Thus to preserve any heroic Prince or great General, any\nnoted Professor of some Science or Faculty, _&c._ would sure be a finer\nsight than their _Effigies_ in Wax, and withal be as durable as their\nTomb in Marble. I say, if we can arrive at this Perfection, without\nExenteration or Incision, so as to preserve a dead Body after the manner\naforesaid, it were reasonable to believe it would not only less terrifie\nall scrupulous Persons, but likewise be of greater Use to the Common\nWealth. Yet least I should fail herein, it being an unbeaten Path, I\npresume thro\u2019 your Conduct and Guidance, that whilst I am endeavouring\nto find it out, you will neither suffer me to lose my self, nor lead\nothers out of the Way. This is my only fear (well knowing too many\nExamples of those that in making new Discoveries have Shipwreck\u2019d\nthemselves) and the principal Request of,\n[Illustration:\n  TO\n  HIS GRACE\n  _WRIOTHESLY_\n  DUKE of BEDFORD\n  Who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work,\n  This MAP OF EGYPT &c, _is dutyfully inscrib\u2019d by his_ Graces _most\n    obliged_ Surgeon _and humble servant_\n  Tho. Greenhill.\n  _To Dr._ John Lawson, _sometime President of the College of\n    Phisicians_, London.\n SIR,\nAs your Knowledge in the _Coptic_ or antient _Egyptian_ Language, in the\n_Arabic_ and _Oriental_ Tongues, as likewise your extraordinary Skill\nboth in _Phisic_ and _Philology_, best testifie you to be the fittest\nJudge of an Art of such Antiquity as _Embalming_; so your favourable\nApprobation of my Notions herein, has encourag\u2019d me to endeavour finding\nout the true Progress and exact Method of practising that Art. In order\nhereunto I first think it not amiss to give a short Geographical\nDescription of the Kingdom of _Egypt_, as also to take notice of the\nSalubrity of its _Air_ and _Water_, [Sidenote: What to be consider\u2019d as\nrelating to _Embalming_.] Fertility of its _Soil_, and Sagacity of its\n_Inhabitants_, together with several necessary Remarks on their\n_Religion_, _Customs_, _Arts_, _Diseases_ and _Phisic_, nay, whatever\nelse may tend to the right Understanding of this Noble but lost Art.\nTho\u2019 _Embalming_ be the chiefly intended Scope of this Letter, yet\nconsidering the _Egyptians_ have been always allow\u2019d the first Inventors\nof Arts and Sciences, and that this particular manner of _Embalming_ was\nat first us\u2019d by them only, it may be requisite to consider every\nparticular circumstance of Time and Place, the several Drugs, Plants,\nMinerals and other Advantages which accru\u2019d to them beyond other\nNations, and likewise to inquire into the Reasons which induc\u2019d them to\nstudy this Art, as also by what means and after what manner they came to\nfind it out.\nThis indeed may seem to some a Digression from our Subject, yet the\nConsequence of it will not prove a little advantageous to the Reader,\nbesides, like the Interlude of a Tragedy, may somewhat divert the\nMelancholiness of our _Discourse about the Dead_. But before I proceed\nto particulars, I shall speak somewhat of _Egypt_ in general, [Sidenote:\n_Egypt_, how scituate and bounded.] which the antient Geographers plac\u2019d\npartly in _Africa_ and partly in _Asia_, making the River _Nile_ the\nBoundary between those two great parts of the World; but _Egypt_,\naccording to the most common receiv\u2019d Opinion, is at present held to be\nall scituate in _Africa_, and bounded on the _East_ by _Idum\u00e6a_, and the\n_Arabian Gulph_ or _Red Sea_, on the _West_ by the Desarts of _Barca_,\n_Lybia_ and _Numidia_, on the _North_ by the _Egyptian Sea_, being part\nof the _Mediterranean_, and on the _South_ by _Nubia_, the last City of\n_Egypt_, that way being _Assuan_. [Sidenote: Its Denomination.] This\nCountry, says _Heylin_ in his Cosmography, _p._ 841. has had several\nNames given it by prophane Authors, as, _First_, _Aeria_, from the\nSerenity of its Air, which is seldom Cloudy. _Secondly_, _Potamia_, from\nthe propinquity of the Sea, which washes two sides of it. _Thirdly_,\n_Ogygia_, from _Ogyges_, a suppos\u2019d King thereof. _Fourthly_,\n_Melampodus_, from the black colour of its Soil. _Fifthly_, _Osiria_,\nfrom the God _Osiris_, here in high esteem. _Sixthly_, and lastly, it\nwas call\u2019d _\u00c6gyptus_, which in the end prevail\u2019d over all the rest,\neither from _\u00c6gyptus_ Brother of _Danaus_, once King hereof (in the\nStories of this Nation better known by the Name of _Rameses_) or else\nfrom _\u00c6gyptus_, the old Name of the River _Nile_, whose annual\noverflowings bringing Soil and Rubbish from the higher Countries, gave\noccasion to some to believe it rais\u2019d into firm Land, and gain\u2019d out of\nthe Sea, who therefore call\u2019d it _Nili Donum_, the Gift of _Nile_; yet\nsome there are who would have it call\u2019d _\u00c6gyptus_, from _Aiguphtus_,\nderiv\u2019d from _Aicoptus_, which signifies the Land or Country of\n_Coptus_, that being suppos\u2019d to have been antiently its chief City,\nbuilt by _Coptus_, whose Genealogy and Descent is thus describ\u2019d by\nFather _Vansleb_ in his Relation of _Egypt_, p. 3. Cham, says he, _one\nof the three Sons of_ Noah, _had four Male Children_, Cus, Misraim, Fut\n_and_ Canaan; Cus _was Father of the_ Abyssins, Misraim _of the_ Copties\n_and_ Nubians, Fut _of the_ Africans, _and_ Canaan _of the_ Syrians _and\ntheir Neighbours_. Misraim _after the Deluge, as_ Macrizi _an Arabian\nHistorian says, pitch\u2019d upon_ Egypt, _made there his Abode, and left\nthat and the Country, as far as the farthest Part of_ Africa, _to his\nPosterity: He had likewise four Sons_, Ischemun, Atrib, S\u00e0 _and_ Coptus,\n_among whom he equally divided the Land of_ Egypt. Coptus _had all that\nTract of Land from_ Assuan _or_ Isvan _to the City of_ Coptus; Ischemun\n_all the Country from that City to_ Menuf _or_ Memphis, Atrib _had the\nheart and middle of_ Egypt; _now call\u2019d_ Delta; _and_ S\u00e0 _all the\nContinent, from the Province of_ Beheire _as far as_ Barbary: _They all\nbuilt Cities in their several Dominions, calling them after their own\nNames. After the decease of their Father, the four Brothers were at\nvariance about the Soveraignty, neither of them caring to endure a\nPartner; at length they resolv\u2019d to end their Controversy by Battel,\nwhich was to give the chief Command to the Victor._ [Sidenote: Govern\u2019d\nby _Coptus_.] Coptus _the youngest overcame the rest, and was\nconsequently acknowledg\u2019d chief Lord by all. He chose the City of_ Menuf\n_or_ Memphis, _where his Father liv\u2019d, for his Residence: From this\nfirst King all the Race of the_ Egyptians _have been since call\u2019d_\nCopties: _From him likewise the_ Greeks _gave the Name of_ \u0391\u1f30\u03b3\u1f7b\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 _to\nthe Land of_ Egypt, _by changing_ K. _into_ G. _which was allowable not\nonly in that Language, but also in the_ Arabian. _The_ Moors _and_\nCopties, _natural Inhabitants of_ Egypt, _now call it_ Massr, _from_\nMisraim, _eldest Son of_ Cham, _and Gran-Child of_ Noah, _who first laid\nthe Foundation of that Kingdom after the Deluge: From this_ Misraim\n_the_ Turks _have also nam\u2019d_ Egypt Missir, _which is very near the\nHebrew_ Misraim; _and the_ Jews _to this Day call it_ Eretz Misraim,\n_the Country of_ Misraim. This may suffice as to its Denominations and\nEtimology.\n[Sidenote: Its _Extent_.]\n_Nubiensis Geographia_ makes it to extend in length from _Assuan_ to the\n_Mediterranean_, 25 Days Journey, which is about 655 English Miles, and\nin breadth 8 Days Journey or 200 Miles; but _Sandys_ and _Vansleb_ agree\n\u2019tis from _North_ to _South_ only 560 Miles, the latter alledging it\nscarce possible to declare its length precisely, by reason they are not\nwont in that Country to measure by Miles or Leagues, but by Camels\nJourneys only. As to its breadth, _Leo Africanus_ says, _p._ 296, it is\nfrom _East_ to _West_ 50 Miles, being narrow towards the _South_, but\nbroader to the _North_ towards the _Mediterranean_. _Sandys_ likewise,\n_p._ 72. says, That by reason of its being so contracted among barren\nMountains, it is in many Places hardly 4, in few above 8 Miles broad,\ntill not far above _Cairo_ it begins by degrees to enlarge it self, and\nso continues even to the Sea, being between _Rosetta_ and _Damiata_,\nwhich stand on the _West_ and _East_-Confines of that which is\noverflow\u2019d by the natural Course of the River, 140 Miles, and from\n_Rosetta_ to _Alexandria_ 30.\n[Sidenote: Antient and modern _Division_.]\nConcerning the Division of this Country, the Ancients have taken\noccasion to divide it first into high and low, and then into high,\nmiddle and low; the higher they call\u2019d _Thebais_, from a Place call\u2019d\n_Thebes_, at present _Saida_; the middle they nam\u2019d _Septanomos_, from\nthe seven _Nomi_, Provostships or Governments it contain\u2019d, at present\n_Bechira_ or _Demesor_; the lower and more particular _Egypt_ they\ncall\u2019d _Delta_, from its likeness to the Figure of the _Greek_ Letter \u0394.\n_Egypt_, according to _Sandys_, p. 85. is now divided into three Parts\nor Provinces; that which lies _South_ of _Cairo_ is call\u2019d _Sahid_, that\nbetween _Cairo_, _Rosetta_ and _Alexandria_, _Errif_, that between\n_Cairo_, _Damiata_ and _Tenese_, _Maremnia_, _Bechiria_: The _Pharaohs_\nand _Egyptian_ Nobility resided in _Saida_, the _Ptolomies_ in _Errif_,\nand the _Romans_ and _Greeks_ along the Sea-Coasts.\n[Sidenote: The River _Nile_.]\nI must now proceed to speak of the River _Nile_, which crossing great\npart of _\u00c6thiopia_, and then entring _Egypt_, runs the whole length of\nthat Kingdom, and after dividing and spreading it self into many\nBranches, ends in the _Mediterranean Sea_. This River was thought by the\nAncients not to have its equal, and is still reputed one of the most\nconsiderable of the World, having somewhat wonderful and peculiar to it\nself, whether one considers its _Source_ or _Effects_. To this River\n_Egypt_ ows its Fertility, and its Inhabitants the greatest of\nFelicities, their Health and Fortunes, yet neither could their rich\nPrinces or wise Priests ever discover its _Source_ or _Origin_. \u2019Tis\nthis has baffl\u2019d the greatest Philosophers, and withstood the Attempts\nof all their Kings, _Roman_ Emperors, Sultans and other Potentates, who,\nnotwithstanding they endeavour\u2019d it with vast Expenses, always prov\u2019d\nunsuccessful: Thus _Sesostris_, _Ptolemy_ and _Cyrus_ sought for it in\nvain; _Alexander_ the Great consulted the Oracle of _Jupiter Ammon_ in\norder to find it out, and _Cambyses_, as _Strabo_ witnesses, spent a\nwhole Year to the same purpose, yet both were disappointed: _Julius\nC\u00e6sar_ also, if we may believe _Lucan_, said, He would have given over\nhis pursuit of the Civil War, could he but have been sure to find out\nthis Secret, yet has its Spring-Head remain\u2019d undiscover\u2019d till of late\nYears, when it was happily pitch\u2019d upon by the _Portugueses_, which\nmakes me of the Opinion of _Le Bruyn_, That no Persons are more capable\nof making these Searches and Discoveries than the _Roman Missionaries_;\nfor on one hand they make it their Duty and perpetual Employment to go\nabout everywhere gaining Proselites, and subjecting them to the See of\n_Rome_, and on the other, under pretence of Devotion, and by virtue of\ntheir poor and simple Habit, may easily penetrate the most remote\nCountries, inaccessible to other Travellers by reason of the Dangers\nthat are to be met with. Now \u2019tis certain almost all those Missionaries,\nespecially the _Jesuites_, are most capable of making these Searches, by\nreason of their insinuating and cunning Ways, so that making it their\nBusiness, as they commonly do, they must be most likely to succeed\ntherein; \u2019tis therefore to their Care and Pains we are indebted for two\nconsiderable Discoveries, of the Source and Rise of this River; the\nfirst made by _Peter Pais_, and the second by Father _Telles_ a Jesuit,\nwhich last being the shorter Account, yet no less Correct, I shall here\ninsert it as he has given it us in his History of _\u00c6thiopia_, printed at\n_Lisbon_.\n[Sidenote: The Rise and Course of the River _Nile_.]\n_In the Kingdom of_ Gojam, _about_ 12 _Degrees from the Equinoctial\ntowards the_ West, _and in the Province of_ Sacahala, _inhabited by the_\nAgaus, _in a Field of no great extent, incompass\u2019d by many high\nMountains, is a small Lake, over which one may cast a Stone, full of\nBushes and low Trees, whereof the Roots are so thick and intangl\u2019d, that\nin Summer one may pass over them dry shod. In the middle of this Lake\nare two great and deep Fountains very near each other, whence issues out\na clear Water that runs under these Bushes and Shrubs, in two several\nChannels. Towards the_ East, _and about the distance of a Musket-Shot,\nthey turn to the_ North. _About half a Mile from thence there appears a\ngreat deal of Water, and a considerable River, into which run many other\nStreams. About 15 Miles farther it receives another larger Water call\u2019d_\nGema, _which looses then its Name. A little farther, turning towards\nthe_ East, _it receives two other considerable Streams call\u2019d_ Kelti\n_and_ Branti: _Near this Place is the first fall of the River; not much\nfarther running towards the_ East, _it enters the Lake of the_ Abyssins,\n_nam\u2019d_ Bahr Dembea, _or the Sea of_ Dembea. _When it has pass\u2019d through\nthis Lake, without mingling with its Waters, it receives many other\ngreat Rivers, and chiefly the River_ Tekeze _near_ Egypt. _So soon as_\nNile _is out of the Lake_ Dembea, _it turns to the_ South-East, _leaving\non the left the Kingdoms of_ Beg-amidr, Amhara _and_ Voleca; _afterwards\nrunning towards the_ South, _it has on the_ South-East _the Kingdom of_\nSauva, _and then turning again to_ East-North-East, _has on the_ South,\nGanz, Gafata _and_ Bizamo, _passing through the Countries of_ Gonga\n_and_ Gafre; _a little farther it passes by_ Fascalo, _then enters the\nCountry of_ Funch _or_ Nubia, _whence it runs into_ Egypt, _as Father_\nTelles _affirms_. But how it is there distributed and divided, I shall\nshew by and by, after I have mention\u2019d two of its Principal _Cataracts_\nor _Cascades_ of a surprizing Nature.\n[Sidenote: Its _Cataracts_.]\nOne of these is at _Ilack_, in _Numidia_, and the other above _Siene_ in\n_Egypt_, being 12 Days Journey from each other. _Ptolomy_ calls the most\nSouthern, the _Great Cataract_, and the other, which he places about\n_Siene_, now _Assuan_, the _Lesser_. This falls about 50 foot, but the\nother three times as high, which last rouling off the Rocks into a vast\nAbyss, the Waters, says _Sandys_, p. 73. make such a roaring Noise, that\na Colony, planted there by the _Persians_, were made almost Deaf with\nit, and glad to abandon their Habitations, tho\u2019 otherwise plentifully\nprovided with all Necessaries of Life. The adjoyning People nevertheless\nare of that incredible boldness, that daring to commit themselves in\nlittle Boats (capable of holding only two, whereof the one Steers and\nthe other Rows) unto the raging Current, and impetuous Eddies, have been\nseen to pass the Streights of the Rocks by little Channels, and at\nlength to rush down with the Stream, to the amazement of all Beholders,\nwho giving them up for lost, beheld them a while after as if shot out of\nan Engin, far from the place of their Fall, rowing safely in the\nasswaged Waters; but _Danet_ will not allow the Noise made by the\nCataracts, renders the neighbouring Inhabitants Deaf, tho\u2019 the same may\nbe heard 3 Days Journey off, and the Waters which rush down appear like\nSmoak, being forc\u2019d with so great a violence, that they form a kind of\nArch, and leave so great a space between, that a Man may pass it without\nbeing wet: There are also Seats cut under the Rocks, where Travellers\nmay rest themselves.\nThe other _Cascade_, as _Sandys_, p. 73. tells us, is a little above the\nplace where once stood the City _Elephantis_: There two pointed Rocks\nnam\u2019d _Crophi_ and _Mophi_, or the Veins of _Nilus_, lift up their\neminent Heads, making the lesser Cataract by falling down with a furious\nCascade into the upper _Egypt_; then running from _South_ to _North_\nvery leisurely, it divides its self into two navigable Branches. That\ntowards the _East_ runs into the Midland Sea near _Damiata_, heretofore\n_Pelusium_, while the other inclining to the _West_, and formerly call\u2019d\n_Canopus_, falls into the self same Sea a little below _Rosetta_,\nmaking, of the richest Portion of the Land of _Egypt_, a triangular\nIsland, call\u2019d _Delta_, in that being thus inclos\u2019d between these two\nBranches and the Sea, it bears the form of that Letter. Two other\nBranches there are which run between these, but poor in Water, besides\ndivers Channels cut by the Labour of Man, for better Conveyance during\nthe Time of Inundation.\n[Sidenote: Its _Ostiaries_ or _Mouths_.]\n_Herodotus_ and _Strabo_ reckon up seven Mouths of the _Nile_, but\n_Egypt_ has been so much chang\u2019d since their Time, that there is hardly\nany appearance or remembrance of the seven Cities they mention.\n_Ptolemy_, in his Geography, expresly gives the names of nine; but\nsurely most of them must have been stop\u2019d up by the Sands, since at\npresent there are but three or four at most, as is affirm\u2019d by _William_\nArch-Bishop of _Tyre_, in his IX. Book, _De Bell. Sac._ cap. 33. and by\n_Le Bruyn_ in his Voyage to the _Levant_, p. 161. who went on purpose to\nmake such Discoveries. But this is however remarkable, that the fresh\nWaters of the _Nile_, keeping themselves united in a Body, and falling\ninto the salt Water or Sea, change the Colour of the _Mediterranean_\nfarther than any part thereof can be seen from the Shore. [Sidenote: Its\n_Inundation_.] Yet amongst all the Misteries of Nature, none is more\nwonderful than the Overflowing of this River, nor any Thing more\nBeneficial; since to this alone the Inhabitants owe not only their\nRiches but their Health, the most malignant Diseases immediately ceasing\nat the Approach of it, and Famine and Dearth are as quickly expell\u2019d. It\nbrings a Mirth and Joy to those People, and of a meer Desart it was\nbefore, for such is _Egypt_ unwater\u2019d by the _Nile_, makes that Country\nthe most fruitful of any in the habitable World.\nNow the Earth, which had been so long scorch\u2019d by the violent heat of\nthe Sun, is plentifully refresh\u2019d with abundant Waters, and the very\nCattel seem to rejoyce at the approaching verdant Season: Boats are\nrow\u2019d where not long before Men trod, and the Waters fill up the dusty\nChannels and long empty\u2019d Cisterns, covering in many Places the whole\nsuperficies of the Land, making it appear as a troubl\u2019d Lake. Nor is\nthis an unpleasant sight to the Natives, who think the less they see of\ntheir Country, the more their Comfort will be. During this Inundation\nthey keep their Beasts and Cattel on the tops of such little Hills, as\neither the Providence of Nature, or Industry of Man has prepar\u2019d, where\nthey abide, waiting patiently for the decrease of the Waters. On these\nHills also stand most of their Towns and Villages, appearing, in the\ntime of the Flood; like so many Islands, the People in the mean Time\nholding Commerce and continual Traffick, by intercourse of Boats and\nShallops, in which they transport their marketable Commodities from one\nPlace to another.\n[Sidenote: Time of its Increase.]\nThis Increase of Waters begins about the 16th or 17th of _June_, when\nthe _Nile_ swells above its Banks for the space of 40 Days, and in as\nmany more gathers its Waters again to their proper Bounds; so that its\ngreatest height is about the end of _July_, and decrease about the\nbeginning of _September_. If it begins sooner or later, the People give\nJudgment whether there will be more or less Water, and consequently are\nadvertis\u2019d to the end they may take Order for what they have to do. The\nIncrease is known by certain Pillars in their Towns, and particularly in\nthe Castle of _Roude_, which stands in a little Isle opposite to old\n_Cairo_, where the _Bassa_ resides, during the Solemnity of opening the\n_Khalis_ or Channel, which passes thro\u2019 and fills the Cisterns of _Grand\nCairo_. It is also known in the Fields by _Asps_, _Tortoises_,\n_Crawfish_, _Crocodiles_, &c. who remove their Eggs or Young from the\nBanks of the _Nile_, immediately before the Inundation, and lay them up\nwhere they may be preserv\u2019d.\n[Sidenote: Its Effects.]\nNow answerable to the Increase of this River is the Plenty or Scarcity\nof the succeeding Year. _Heylin_ in his Cosmography writes, If it flow\nnot to the height of 15 Cubits, then the Earth will be deficient in her\nAbundance or Increase for want of Moisture; and if it surmount the\nsuperficies of the Earth, more than 17 Cubits, then, like a drunken Man,\nit cannot produce its natural Operation, having its Stomach cloy\u2019d and\nsurcharg\u2019d as it were with too much Liquor; but if a moderate flowing\nhappen, then can no Country boast of a like Fertility, the Flood\nbringing with it both Earth and Water into a sandy and thirsty Soil,\nwhich as well manures as moistens it with the Fat and pregnant Slime it\nleaves behind, and, as I said before, produces both Riches and Health;\nfor the _Plague_, which here oftentimes miserably rages, upon the first\nDay of the Flood instantly ceases, insomuch, that whereas 500 had died\nat _Cairo_ the Day before, on the Day following there dies not one Man.\nBut if it at any Time happens that the River does not thus overflow the\nCountry, then is it commonly the fore-runner of a following Dearth.\nThus, when this River flows but to 16 Degrees, they fear a Famine, but\nwhen it comes to 23, \u2019tis a sign of a good Year, whereas when \u2019tis too\nhigh the Inundation is dangerous. _Thevenot_ says, If it rises but to 16\nFoot, a Famine unavoidably follows for want of Water; and if it swells\nto 24, there will be a Dearth, because the Seed-Time must be lost. There\nare besides many other rare Properties belonging to this River, which to\nrelate would make my Digression too long, and my intent was only to\nmention such Things as chiefly tend to a Natural History, among which,\nthose curious Observations made by Father _Vansleb_ are most to my\npurpose, which therefore I shall insert as follows:\n[Sidenote: Remarkable _Observations_ on the _Nile_.]\n_This is remarkable of_ Nile, _says my Author, That it begins to\nincrease and decrease on a certain Day, and that when it first\nincreases, it grows green and afterwards appears red: The Day on which\nit begins to increase is Yearly the_ 12th _of_ June, _according to the_\nCopties _Account, or the_ 17th _according to Ours, when the Natives\nobserve the Feast of St._ Michael _the Arch-Angel, on which Feast the\nDrops begin to fall: Now these Drops, according to the Opinion of the\nInhabitants, are Tokens of the Mercies and Blessings of GOD. They\nbelieve GOD sends the Arch-Angel, St._ Michael, _on that Day to cause\nthe River to be Fruitful; this is the common sentiment the People have,\nbut the Learned say, these Drops are a kind of Dew, which falls towards\nthe last quarter of the Night, near the Morning, and causes the River to\nbe Fertile, Purifies the Air from all Infection of_ Camsin, _and gives\nStrength and Virtue to whatever it falls upon_.\n[Sidenote: _Cause_ of its _Fertility_.]\n_These Drops are doubtless the sole Cause of the Fertility of the_ Nile;\n_for as soon as the Dew is fallen, the Waters begin to corrupt and turn\nof a greenish Colour: This Colour increases more and more till the River\nappears as a Lake cover\u2019d all over with Moss; this Colour is to be seen\nnot only in its great Channel, but also in all the Bounds and Branches\nthat come from it, the Cisterns only preserving their Water pure; some\nYears this green Colour continues about 20 Days, and sometimes longer,\nbut never above 40. The_ Egyptians _call this Time_ il chadraviat, _for\nthen they suffer much, the Water being corrupt and unwholesome, and\nbecause good Water is very scarce. These Drops or Dew purifie the Air,\nfor so soon as ever they begin to fall, the_ Plague _ceases to be\nmortal, none die of it; the Air becomes wholesome, all Diseases are\ndisarm\u2019d, and if any Person happens to be sick of it, he shall be sure\nnot to die. This Dew gives Life to every Thing, and when it falls on the\nWheat, causes it to continue many Years without Corruption or Worms, nay\nmakes it far more Nourishing than any Corn on which it has never come.\nFor this Reason the Natives never house the_ Grand Signiors _Corn till\nthis Dew be fallen, to the end it may keep the longer free from Worms_.\n[Sidenote: Its _Increase_.]\n_The Increase of this River proceeds from several Causes; the first and\nchiefest of which, is the Fermentation caused therein by this Dew, which\nfalls precisely at the Time before-mention\u2019d. The continual Rains of_\n\u00c6thiopia, _that come in_ July, August _and_ September, _which is the\nWinter Quarter of this Country, together with the great Torrents of\nWater that rush down from the Mountains, into the Rivers that flow into\nthe_ Nile, _may be look\u2019d on as another Cause of its Increase; for I\ncannot conceive the Fermentation can last 100 Days, and singly cause it\nto increase so much as it is wont. The third Cause are the Westerly\nWinds call\u2019d_ Maestrals, _and by the_ Egyptians Maltem, _which begin\nabout 12 Days before the Dew comes, and continue about four Months\nwithout Cessation; they blow directly into the_ Nile, _and hinder the\nfresh Water from coming out, so that it returns back, which causes the\nRiver to swell. So soon as the green Colour is gone, the River begins to\nturn red and very muddy; \u2019tis then no doubt the Fermentation is past,\nand the Waters of_ \u00c6thiopia _are arriv\u2019d in_ Egypt, _which are of that\nColour, by reason of the red Earth the furious Torrents from the\nMountains carry along with them; for \u2019tis not probable the Land of_\nEgypt, _which is very black, should give that Tincture. In the Year_\n1673, _at the beginning of_ July, _the Water began to turn red, which\ncontinu\u2019d to the end of_ December, _the Time the River ordinarily\nreturns to its usual bigness. The_ Egyptians _have an Art to make this\nmuddy Water as clear as Cristal; so soon as the Water-Bearers have\nfill\u2019d their Vessels, they rub them in the inside with a Paste made of\npounded Almonds, which in a short Time causes the Water to become very\nclear. In such Places where this Paste is not to be had, they use\ninstead of it the Kernels of Apricocks, pounded after the same manner,\nand some say the Flower of little Beans will have the same Effect._\n[Sidenote: _Operation_ of its _Waters_.]\n_The Waters of this River have several Operations, for_, First, _They\nbring a Loosness on new Comers, in case the Parties drink them at their\nfirst arrival, and it continues about eight Days_. Secondly, _They cause\nan Itching in the Skin, which troubles those that drink them when the\nRiver increases: This Itch is very small, appearing first about the\nArms, then on the Stomach, and afterwards spreading all over the Body,\nwhich causes grievous Pain. This Itch comes not only on such as have\ndrunk of the River, but such as drink out of the Cisterns fill\u2019d with\nRiver-Water; it lasts about six Weeks._ Thirdly, _About the Months of_\nJune, July, August _and_ September _it turns into Sweat, but is not so\nin any other Time of the Year_. Fourthly, _When this Water covers the\nEarth, it fattens the Land with the Slime it leaves behind. Monsieur_\nThevenot _is mistaken in his Travels into the_ Levant, _where he says,\nThis Slime makes the Ground so fat, that if Sand were not mingl\u2019d with\nit, it would Rot and Choak whatever is put into it; and that in_ Egypt\n_they take as much Pains to carry Sand upon their Land, as we do to lay\nDung. This is not generally so, for they never use Sand but for Melons,\nCucumbers, and such like Fruits, which grow best in sandy Grounds; they\nnever use it for other Fruits and Grains._ Thus far _Vansleb_.\n[Sidenote: Their _Virtues_ and _Goodness_.]\n_Sandys_, speaking in Commendation of these Waters, says, They procure\nliberal Urine, curing Pains in the Kidnies, and are a most sovereign\nRemedy against the _Hypocondriacus Affectus_, or Wind-Melancholy. They\nare not unpleasantly cold, but of all others the most sweet and\nwholsome, by reason of their being well concocted by the Sun, which at\nall Times is, in some part or other, directly over them, and by the\nlength of their Course, running from _South_ to _North_, besides\n_Ambages_ above 41 Degrees, so that from this River there ascend no\nVapours, the Humour being rarifi\u2019d by so long a Progress, which tho\u2019\nexhal\u2019d, assumes no visible Body, but undistinguishably mixes with the\npure Air, agreeing with the same in tenuity. _Thevenot_ speaks much to\nthe same purpose in his Travels to the _Levant_, fol. 245. where he\nsays, This Water is so wholsome, it never does any harm, tho\u2019 drank to\nnever so great a degree, by reason it comes a great way over Land, to\nwit, from _\u00c6thiopia_, so that in so long a Course, thro\u2019 so hot a\nCountry, the Sun has Time to correct and purifie it from all Crudities,\nand indeed it is sweated out as fast as one drinks it.\n[Sidenote: Used instead of _Drink_.]\nThey have no other Water to drink in _Egypt_, therefore most of their\nCities, Towns and Villages stand on the Borders of this River; there are\nalso many Canals and deep Ponds which have been caus\u2019d to be cut at\nconvenient Distances, by the Care and Magnificence of their Kings, for\nthe Refreshment and Use of the People, who indeed need no other Drink.\nThe Waters of this River are of such excellent Taste and Virtue, that\nwhen _Pescennius Niger_ heard his Souldiers murmur for want of Wine, he\nthus reply\u2019d, _What! crave ye Wine and yet have_ Nile _to drink of?_ The\nfirst Kings of _Egypt_ made such account of them, that they almost drank\nnothing else; and when _Ptolomy Philadelphus_ marry\u2019d his Daughter\n_Berenice_ to _Antiochus Theos_, King of _Assyria_, he gave orders that\nfrom Time to Time the Waters of _Nile_ should be carry\u2019d her, that she\nmight drink no other Liquor. And indeed all Authors agree these Waters\nare sweet, healthful and nourishing, and that they keep a long Time\nwithout corrupting, for being left to settle but a small Season, they\nbecome clean, clear, and so sweet and pleasant, that they excel all\nothers for smoothness and flavour. _Gabriel Sionata_ in his Tract _De\nMoribus Orientalium_, p. 27. observes, That the Waters of _Nile_, being\nonly kept in Pans three Days, and during that Time expos\u2019d to the heat\nof the Sun, turn to a pure white Salt; so that the Land of _Egypt_ has\nan inexhaustible supply of that which is so needful for the Life of Man,\nand that at small Expence. Moreover, whatever is here valuable proceeds\nfrom the Munificence of this River, whose Annual overflow is the only\nCause of that wonderful Fertility of the Soil of this Country, which is\nso great that it is rather to be admir\u2019d than describ\u2019d.\n[Sidenote: Fertility of _Egypt_.]\nIn Times past it was reputed the Granary of the whole World, insomuch,\nthat it was not thought possible for the _Roman_ Empire to subsist\nwithout its affluence. Also, after _Selimus_ Emperor of the _Turks_ had\nconquer\u2019d this Country, he was heard to say, That now he had taken a\nFarm would plentifully feed his _Jemoglans_. Monsieur _Thevenot_ says,\n_Egypt_ may well be stil\u2019d an Earthly Paradise; for so great is its\nincrease, that in many Places they reap two considerable Crops a Year;\nHay they mow four Times, and as for Pease, Beans, and other Garden-Ware,\nthose grow spontaneously all the Year round. All kinds of Fruit are\nexceeding plentiful, Grapes only excepted, which it may be Nature keeps\nback as thinking the Natives of _Egypt_ can want no Wine, since they\nhave so good Water. In a Word, _Lucan_ thus characterizes this Country:\n             _Terra suis contenta Bonis, non indiga Mercis\n             Aut_ Jovis, _in Solo tanta est fiducia_ Nilo.\n              A Land that needs nor Trade nor Rain, a Soil\n              Pleas\u2019d in it self as confident in _Nile_.\n[Sidenote: The _Red Sea_.]\nNext we shall speak of the _Red Sea_, as having been so very Famous,\nboth for the miraculous Passage of the _Israelites_ as upon dry Land,\nand the drowning of _Pharaoh Cenchres_, and all his Followers, as\nlikewise for that thro\u2019 it the Spices of _India_ and _Arabia_ were first\nbrought to _Alexandria_, and thence dispers\u2019d by the _Venetians_\nthroughout all _Europe_, _Africa_ and _America_, as _Heylin_, p. 852.\ntestifies. The _Turks_ call this Sea the _Gulf_ of _Mecca_, and the\nAncients nam\u2019d it the _Arabian Gulf_ or _Red Sea_, the reason of which\nlast, see in Sir _Thomas Brown_\u2019s _Vulgar Errors_, p. 261 and 262. who\nalso tells us several Princes have attempted to cut thro\u2019 the _Isthmus_,\nor narrow Tract of Land, that parts the _Arabian_ and _Mediterranean\nSeas_, but whose intent was not immediately to unite those Waters, but\nto make a Navigable Channel betwixt the former and the _Nile_, the Marks\nwhereof remain to this Day. This was first attempted by _Sesostris_ King\nof _Egypt_, and afterwards by _Darius_ King of _Persia_, but, for fear\nof drowning the Country, at length relinquish\u2019d by them both; yet the\nsame Thing was long after re-attempted, and in some measure effected by\n_Ptolomy Philadelphus_. Now the _Grand Signior_, who is Lord of all this\nCountry, conveys his Gallies into the _Red Sea_ by the _Nile_; for\nbringing them down to _Grand Cairo_, they are there taken to pieces,\ncarry\u2019d upon Camels Backs, and afterwards put together again at _Sues_,\nhis Port and Naval Station for that Sea, whereby he in effect puts the\nDesign of _Cleopatra_ in execution, who after the Battle at _Actium_, in\na different manner, would have convey\u2019d her Gallies into the _Red Sea_.\nHere, as the same Author affirms, Coral grows in great abundance.\n[Sidenote: The _Lake_ of _M\u0153ris_.]\nAs concerning the Lakes of _Egypt_, that of King _M\u0153ris_ is not only the\nmost admirable, but likewise the largest of all, denominated after his\nown Name, as is testify\u2019d by _Herodotus_, _Diodorus Siculus_ and\n_Pliny_; a Work the most useful and wonderful, says _Greaves_ in his\n_Pyramidographia_, p. 11. if rightly consider\u2019d, that ever was attempted\nby Man. In the midst of this Lake that King erected two _Pyramids_, one\nin Memory of himself, and the other of his Wife, each being 600 Feet in\nheight. The Description of both these and of this Lake we have in\n_Herodotus_; the latter we find also in _Strabo_, but no where so fully\nas in _Diodorus Siculus_, Lib. 1. therefore I shall relate his Words:\n_Ten Sch\u00e6nes_ (600 Furlongs, tho\u2019 _Strabo_ and _Artemidorus_ before him\nobserve a difference of _Sch\u00e6nes_ in _Egypt_) _above the City_ Memphis,\nM\u0153ris _dug a Lake of admirable Use, the Greatness of which is\nincredible, the Circumference of it being said to be 3600 Furlongs, and\nthe Depth in many Places 50 Fathom (200 Cubits or 300 Feet.) Now who\nthat shall seriously consider the vastness of this Work, can forbear\nasking how many Myriads of Men were employ\u2019d on it, and in how many\nYears they accomplish\u2019d it? The common Benefit of this Undertaking to\nthose that inhabit_ Egypt, _as also the Wisdom of its Royal Contriver,\nno Man can sufficiently admire; for since the increase of_ Nile _is not\nalways the same, and that the Country is ever made more Fertile by its\nmoderate Rise, this King contriv\u2019d a Lake to receive the superfluity of\nthe Water, that neither the greatness of the Inundation unseasonably\ndrowning the Country, might occasion Marshes or Lakes, nor the Rivers\nflowing less than required, corrupt the Fruits for want of Water. This\nPrince therefore caus\u2019d a Ditch to be cut from the River_ Nile _to this\nLake, 80 Furlongs long and 300 Feet broad, by which, sometimes receiving\nin, and sometimes letting out the Water, he exhibited a seasonable\nquantity thereof to the Husbandmen, the mouth of this Ditch being\nsometimes open\u2019d and sometimes shut, yet both not without much Art and\ngreat Expence, for he that would either open the_ Sluces _or shut them,\nwas under a necessity of expending at least 50 Talents. This Lake, thus\nbenefiting the_ Egyptians, _has continu\u2019d even to our Times, and from\nits Author is at this Day call\u2019d_, The Lake of _M\u0153ris. He left a dry\nplace in the midst, on which he built a_ Sepulcher _and two_ Pyramids,\n_each a Furlong high; one of these he made for himself, and the other\nfor his Wife, placing on each a Marble Statue sitting on a Throne,\nimagining that by these Works he should transmit to Posterity an\nindelible Remembrance of his Worth. The Revenue arising from the Fish of\nthis Lake he gave to his Wife for her Unguents and other Ornaments,\nwhich is said to have been not less worth to her than a Talent a Day;\nfor according to common report there are 22 sorts of Fish in it, which\nare taken in such huge quantities, that those who are perpetually\nemploy\u2019d in salting them, of which there is a very large number, can\nhardly dispatch the Work._ Thus far _Diodorus Siculus_, whose\nDescription of this Lake, as it is much fuller than that of _Herodotus_,\nso _Herodotus_, Lib. 2. has this memorable Observation which _Diodorus_\nomitted. _He says this Lake was made by Hand, as is apparent, because\nalmost in the midst of it there stand two_ Pyramids, _50 Fathoms above\nWater and as many under: On each of these there is a_ Colossus _of\nStone, sitting on a Throne; so that by this means, these_ Pyramids _must\nin all be 100 Fathoms high_. _Strabo_ likewise, _Lib._ 17. says, _This\nLake is wonderful, being like a Sea both for largeness and Colour_.\n[Sidenote: The _Dead Sea_ or _Lake Asphaltites_.]\nBut now I am speaking of Seas and Lakes I will mention one more, which\ntho\u2019 not in _Egypt_ but in _Palestine_, is not yet above 2 _Italian_\nMiles off _Damiata_, as _Le Bruyn_, p. 138. assures us. This Lake is\nvery beneficial as well to the _Holy Land_, in that it plentifully\nfurnishes that Country with Salt, as to _Egypt_, by reason of its large\nstore of Bituminous Matter, of great use in _Embalming_: By some it is\ncall\u2019d _Mare Mortuum_, and by others the _Lake Asphaltites_. The Name of\nthis Sea is suppos\u2019d to have been given it from its largeness and\nsaltness, being 70 Miles long and 16 broad, and so extream salt, that\nits Water burns like Fire when tasted, and boils up weighty Bodies,\ninsomuch that whatever living Creature is thrown into it, sinks not\neasily. It is call\u2019d the _Dead Sea_, perhaps from its heavy Waters\nhardly to be mov\u2019d by the Winds, or else because it has no visible\nefflux into the Ocean, nor is at all increas\u2019d by the River _Jordan_,\nand many other Waters that flow into it, or _Thirdly_, In that no living\nCreature can breath in it, but is on the contrary suffocated by its\nBituminous Steams, the great abundance whereof also occasions it to be\ncall\u2019d _Lacus Asphaltites_. Now of this _Asphaltum_ or _Bitumen_ there\nare several Camel-Loads taken out of it Dayly, as _Thevenot_ assures us,\nwhich raise a very great Revenue. _Diodorus Siculus_ moreover tells us,\nthere rise such large pieces of _Bitumen_ out of the midst this Lake, as\nare 2 or 300 Feet square; the greater sort the Inhabitants term Bulls,\nand the lesser Calves, which, swimming on the surface of the Water,\nappear at a distance like so many Islands. The Time of the Lakes\nthrowing up this _Bitumen_, which is Yearly, may be perceiv\u2019d above 20\nDays before it comes; for everywhere round, for many Furlongs, a Steam\narises with great stench, which changes the natural Colour of all Gold,\nSilver or Brass near it, till it be again exhal\u2019d; and inasmuch as all\nadjoyning Parts are thus corrupted with the heat and stench of this\nLake, the Inhabitants are commonly infected with Diseases, and their\nLives thereby shortn\u2019d. This was once a fruitful Valley, compar\u2019d for\ndelightfulness with Paradise, and call\u2019d _Pentapolis_ from its five\nCities; but which being destroy\u2019d by Fire from Heaven, it was thereupon\nconverted into this filthy Lake and barren Desolation which surrounds\nit, a fearful Monument of Divine Wrath, for the Wickedness of _Sodom_\nand _Gomorrha_, two of these five Cities, from the former of which it is\nalso call\u2019d the _Lake_ of _Sodom_. But I make mention of this Lake\nchiefly for the sake of its _Asphaltum_, so much us\u2019d in the\n_Embalmings_ of the _Egyptians_, and not that its stench can any ways\nincommode or prove unhealthful to _Egypt_; for that Country has neither\nSeas Lakes nor Rivers less prejudicial or more beneficial than the\n_Nile_, a River sufficient of it self to water the Country, fertilize\nits Soil, and thereby render its Inhabitants both chearful and healthy.\n[Sidenote: Climate of _Egypt_.]\nAnother Thing to be consider\u2019d, as very useful in the _Natural History_\nof _Embalming_, is the Climate of _Egypt_, whether hot or cold, dry or\nmoist, or compriz\u2019d under other general Heads, such as those of the\n_Heavens_, _Air_, _Water_, _Earth_, _Winds_, _Seasons_, &c. which\nQualities, as they are in great measure occasion\u2019d by the _Nile_, so are\nthey also best explain\u2019d by setting forth those of that River, with\ntheir Effects; for _Egypt_ by reason of its Southerly Situation is very\nhot, and during the whole Summer almost insupportable, which being\nfarther increas\u2019d by the reflexion of the Sun on its sandy Soil, renders\nthe Air so exceedingly warm that one can hardly breath in it, which is\nindeed one of the greatest Inconveniencies _Egypt_ lies under. This heat\nunavoidably dries up all the Rivers for near six Months together, so\nthat the People must of necessity die with Famine, did not the _Nile_\noverflow and fill up their empty Channels, thereby relieving them,\nthirsty as their Soil. Now the Property of this River is the more\nremarkable, in that it differs from those of all others, which are only\nfull in Winter; whereas, on the contrary, this overflows in Summer, when\nthere is most occasion for it, as if purposely design\u2019d by Providence to\nsave a famish\u2019d and scorch\u2019d Country. Moreover this is worth taking\nnotice of, that the Soil of _Egypt_ being naturally Sandy and Steril,\nand withal very dry and scorch\u2019d, is by means of the overflowing of\n_Nile_ sufficiently water\u2019d, and by the fat Mud it leaves behind made\nvery Fertile and fit for Tillage.\n[Sidenote: The _Air_ very hot.]\nThe Air also of this Country, especially about _Cairo_, and farther\ntowards the _South_, because so near the Line, is extream hot, for\nthere, says _Ogilby_ in his Description of _Egypt_, p. 115. the Sun\ncasts its Beams perpendicularly from _Cancer_, during which Time of\nviolent Heat the People are wont to dwell in Caverns; nay in _Cairo_, in\nthe midst of every House, there are Wells with Water in them, which not\nonly cool the Mansions but refresh their Inhabitants: They have likewise\ncontriv\u2019d large Pipes or Funnels in the midst of their Houses, which\nstanding right up into the Air, with broad Mouths like Bells, and lying\nopen to the _North_, receive the cool Air, which is thereby sent down\ninto the lowermost Rooms. For shade also in the Streets, every Dwelling\nhas a broad Penthouse; and for further refreshment the Inhabitants use\nBathing, having curious Bagnio\u2019s of fresh and clear Water from the River\n_Nile_, without any mixture either of Herbs or medicinal Ingredients.\n[Sidenote: Cool\u2019d by the _Nile_ and Annual _Winds_.]\nThe Heat of this Country is moreover somewhat moderated by the\noverflowing of _Nile_, and the continual blowing of cool Northerly\nWinds, otherwise it would be so vehement, neither Man nor Beast could be\nable to breath in it. In Winter the Air is _hot_ and _dry_, tho\u2019\nsometimes a little _cool_, yet generally extream hot, and more\nprejudicial to the Head than any other part of the Body. _Sandys_ says,\np. 76. It is as hot with them in the depth of _Winter_, as with us in\nthe midst of _July_. The Air a Nights is cool, which after Sun-rising\nbecomes a little warm, at Noon very hot, but at Night returns to be cold\nagain, so that its inequality breeds many Diseases; nevertheless, in as\nmuch as it is exceeding Serene, being constantly free both from Rain,\nClouds, Mists, Fogs, Hail, Snow, _&c._ which rarely happen, it is\naccounted very healthful; and in this Sense we must take _Herodotus_\nLib. 2. where he says, _The_ Egyptians _are the Healthiest People of the\nWorld, by reason of the immutability of their Air_. But that it Rains,\nHails and Snows sometimes in that Country, tho\u2019 many of the Ancients\ndeny it, is plainly confirm\u2019d by several modern Writers, wherefore Sir\n_Thomas Brown_ places that assertion among his Vulgar Errors, and _p._\n260 thus confutes it. _\u2019Tis confirm\u2019d_, says he, _by many, and believ\u2019d\nby most, that it never Rains in_ Egypt, _the River_ Nile _plentifully\nsupplying that Defect, and bountifully requiting it by its Inundation;\nyet this must be understood in a qualify\u2019d Sense, that is, that it Rains\nthere but seldom in Summer, and very rarely in Winter_. [Sidenote: Rain\nin _Egypt_.] But that great Showers do sometimes fall on this Region,\nbesides the Assertion of many Writers, is confirm\u2019d by the Honourable\nand Occular Testimony of Sir _William Paston_, Bar^{t.} who affirms,\nThat not many Years since it rain\u2019d in _Grand Cairo_ for divers Days\ntogether. The same is likewise attested as to other parts of _Egypt_ by\n_Prosper Alpinus_, who liv\u2019d long in that Country, and has left us an\naccurate Treatise of the Medicinal Practice there: _Cairi, raro decidunt\nPluvi\u00e6, Alexandri\u00e6, Pelusiiq; & in omnibus Locis Mari adjacentibus,\npluit largissime & s\u00e6pe_. That is, _It Rains seldom at_ Cairo, _but at_\nAlexandria, Damiata, _and other Places near the Sea, very often and\nplentifully_. The same likewise is to be inferr\u2019d from this Author\nconcerning Snow, _Rarissime Nix, Grando_, &c. _It seldom either Snows or\nHails, wherefore we cannot deny Snow or Hail never to fall because they\nhappen but seldom._ The rarity of them however may be the occasion of\nthat Saying of _Horace_, Lib, 3. Ode 26.\n                   _Memphim carentem Scythonia Nive._\n             Scorch\u2019d _Memphis_ knows no _Scythian_ Snows.\nTo all this may be added the Testimony of the Learn\u2019d Mr. _Greaves_,\nwhose Words, as you may find them, _p._ 74, 75. of his accurate\nDescription of the _Pyramids_, I will here insert, by reason they not\nonly prove these Rains, but likewise impart some curious Observations on\nthe Air of _Egypt_ and _Nile_. _I cannot_, says he, _sufficiently wonder\nat the Ancients who generally deny\u2019d the fall of Rains in_ Egypt.\n_Plato_ in his _Tim\u00e6us_ speaking of this Country, where he had liv\u2019d\nmany Years, writes thus, \u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c7\u1f7d\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f79\u03c4\u03b5, \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5\n\u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5, \u1f04\u03bd\u03c9\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c1\u03bf\u1f7b\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f55\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u1fe4\u1fe5\u03b5\u1fd6. _i. e._ But in that Country\nno Rain falls on the Ground at any Time. _Pomponius Mela_ in express\nTerms relates, _That_ Egypt _is_ Terra expers Imbrium, mir\u00e9 tamen\nfertilis; _whereas for two Months_, viz. December _and_ January, _I have\nnot known it Rain so constantly, and with so great impetuosity at_\nLondon, _as I found it to do at_ Alexandria, _the Winds continuing_ N.\nN. W. _which caus\u2019d me to keep a Diary, as well of the Weather as of my\nObservations in Astronomy, and that not only there, but also at_ Grand\nCairo. _My very noble and worthy Friend, Sir_ William Paston, _observ\u2019d\nat the same Time that there fell much Rain; so likewise about the end\nof_ March _following, being at the_ Mummies _somewhat beyond the_\nPyramids _towards the_ South, _there fell a gentle shower of Rain for\nalmost an whole Day together: But it may be the Ancients meant the upper\npart of_ Egypt, _beyond_ Thebes, _about_ Siene, _and near the_ Catadup\u00e6\n_or_ Cataracts _of_ Nile _and not the lower Parts; for there indeed I\nhave been told by the_ Egyptians _it seldom Rains, wherefore_ Seneca\n_Lib._ 4. Natur. Qu\u00e6st. _may have written true, where he says_,\n[Sidenote: Snow in _Egypt_] In ea parte qu\u00e6 in \u00c6thiopiam vergit,\n_speaking of_ Egypt, aut nulli Imbres sunt aut rari. _But where he\nsays_, Alexandri\u00e6 Nives non cadunt, _\u2019tis false; for at my being there\nin_ January _it snow\u2019d one whole Night. However, farther towards the_\nSouth _than_ Egypt, _between the_ Tropicks, _and near the_ Line, _in the\nCountry of_ Abyssinia _or_ \u00c6thiopia, _there falls every Year, for many\nWeeks together, store of Rain, as the_ Abyssins _themselves have related\nat_ Grand Cairo, _which may likewise be confirm\u2019d by_ Josephus Acosta,\n_Lib._ 1. De natur\u00e2 Orbis novi, _where he observes, that in_ Peru _and\nsome other Places, lying in the same Paralel with_ \u00c6thiopia, _they have\nabundance of Rain. [Sidenote: Cause of the Inundation of _Nile_.] This\nthen is the true Cause of the Inundation of_ Nile _in the Summer-Time,\nit being then highest when other Rivers are lowest, and not those which\nare alledg\u2019d by_ Herodotus, Diodorus Siculus, Plutarch, Aristides,\nHeliodorus _and others, who are all extreamly troubl\u2019d to give a Reason\nfor the Inundation of this River, imputing it either to the peculiar\nNature of its Water, the obstruction of it by the_ Etesi\u00e6, _or else to\nthe melting of the Snows in_ \u00c6thiopia, _which however I verily believe\nrarely fall in those hot Countries, where the Natives, by reason of the\nextream Heats, are all Black, and where, if we credit_ Seneca, Argentum\nreplumbatur, _Silver is melted by the scorching Climate, or in a word,\nto some other such like Reasons of small weight. In_ Diodorus Siculus _I\nfind_ Agatharcides Cnidius _giving almost the same Reason I have done,\nwhose Assertion however those Times gave but little credit to, yet does_\nDiodorus _seem to agree with it in these words_, Lib. 1. _Agatharcides\nCnidius_ has come nearest the Truth, he affirming that every Year, in\nthe Mountains about _\u00c6thiopia_, there are continual Rains from the\nSummer Solstice to the Autumnal Equinox, which cause this Inundation of\n_Nile_. _The Time of this is so certain, that I have known the_ Egyptian\n_Astronomers put down many Years before in their_ Ephemerides, That such\na Day of such a Month the _Nile_ will begin to rise. Thus far _Greaves_,\nto which I may add an Experiment of the Lord _Bacon_\u2019s concerning the\nscarcity of Rain in _Egypt_. [Sidenote: An _Experiment_ concerning the\nscarcity of _Rain_ in _Egypt_.] _\u2019Tis strange_, says he, _p._ 161. _of\nhis_ Natural History, _the River_ Nile _overflowing as it does the\nCountry of_ Egypt, _there should nevertheless be little or no Rain known\nin that Country. The Cause must lye either in the Nature of the_ Water,\n_the_ Air, _or of both. As for the_ Water, _it may_, First, _be ascrib\u2019d\nto its long Course; for swift running Waters vapour less than those that\nare standing, as those that have been sometimes boyling on the Fire, do\nnot cast so great a steam as they did at first: Now \u2019tis certain the\nWaters of_ Nile _are sweeter than others in taste, and excellent good\nagainst the_ Stone _and_ Hypocondriacal Melancholy, _which shews they\nare_ Lenifying. Secondly, _The Reason of this Inundation may be, that\nthese Waters running thro\u2019 a Country of a hot_ Climate _and flat,\nwithout shade either from Woods or Hills, the_ Sun _must thereby\nnecessarily have greater power to concoct them. As for the_ Air, _whence\nI conceive this want of Showers chiefly comes, the Cause must be, that\nthe_ Air _of it self is thin and thirsty, and therefore so soon as ever\nit gets any moisture from the_ Water, _it imbibes and disperses it\nthroughout its whole Body, not suffering it to remain in a_ Vapour\n_whereby it might breed_ Rain. Now tho\u2019 it is not to be deny\u2019d that\nRains fall sometimes in _Egypt_, yet this may however be averr\u2019d, that\nthey happen but seldom, therefore the Air must consequently be more\nsettl\u2019d than ours and freer from Vapours, Fogs, or the like, which\nrenders it not only healthful, but very beneficial in preserving and\n_Embalming_ Bodies, they being by nothing so much damnify\u2019d as by\nuncertain Weather, [Sidenote: Moist _Air_ prejudicial to _Embalming_.]\nof which we have too sad Experience in this our moist Climate. We are\ntherefore forc\u2019d to supply the want of this, either by a total exclusion\nof the Air by _Air-Pumps_, by immerging our dead Bodies into Spirituous\nor Balsamic Liquors, or else by driving away all Damps and Moistures by\nmoderate Fires. This every one knows who has been us\u2019d either to\nConfectionery, preserving natural Curiosities, or the like, to whom the\ngiving, relaxing or molding Things, serves as a _Thermometer_ whereby to\ndistinguish the several changes and varieties of the Weather.\n_Egypt_ has not only an advantage of other Countries by the goodness of\nits _Water_, serenity of its _Air_, and warmth of its _Climate_, but\nalso derives a yet farther Benefit in regard of _Embalming_, [Sidenote:\n_Sand_ how useful in _Embalming_.] from the Nature of its _Sand_ and\n_Soil_, the usefulness of which has in this respect been sufficiently\nexperienc\u2019d by Modern Artists. Thus it is reported curious Florists\npreserve both the form and colours of beauteous Plants, by laying them\nin Sand, drying them in an Oven, or the like; and thus some modern\n_Embalmers_ have, by hot Sand laid on prepar\u2019d Bodies, dry\u2019d up the\nsuperfluous Moisture, and reduc\u2019d their _Embalming_ Matter to a just\nConsistency: \u2019Tis likewise observable some Sands will naturally _Embalm_\nwithout any addition of Balsamic Ingredients. Moreover, \u2019tis probable\nthe Sea-Sands may have the like Effect, provided they be not too often\nwet; for thus a Body being first pickl\u2019d or salted, as it were with the\nSea-Brine, may afterwards, when dry\u2019d by the Wind or Sun, remain firm\nand durable as long as it shall be preserv\u2019d free from Wet or Moisture;\nand partly of this Opinion perhaps was Mr. _William Glanvill_ of the\n_Temple_, who having so order\u2019d it in his Will, was bury\u2019d in the\n_Goodwin-Sands_, which tho\u2019 they cannot preserve him, as before\nalledg\u2019d, because so often wet, yet he being inclos\u2019d in a leaden\nCoffin, that must in Time sink to the bottom, they may by their coolness\nhelp to keep his Corps entire for many Years; or at least by being so\nsecur\u2019d, he will be defended from the rapine of Animals, or disturbances\nof Sextons: But the Sands of _Egypt_ being much more hot, from the\nreflection of the scorching Sun, are capable of Preserving Bodies\nwithout either Salination or _Embalming_, and that only by exhaling and\ndrying up the Humidities and adventitious Moisture, insomuch that it has\noccasion\u2019d no small Contests among some Authors, which of the two is the\ntruer Mummy, that dry\u2019d in the _Sands_, or that which is _Embalm\u2019d_ with\nBalsams and Aromatics. _Le Fevre_ in his _Chymistry_, p. 138. is\nentirely of the first Opinion; but I shall refer such Disputes to their\nproper Places.\n[Sidenote: _Mummies_ found in the _Sands_.]\nOf those sorts of _Mummies_ there have been many casually found in the\nDesarts of _Egypt_, _Lybia_, _Arabia_, &c. suppos\u2019d to have been\nTravellers suffocated by great drifts of Sand, rais\u2019d by sudden\nTempests; for it sometimes so happens, that contrary Winds arising of a\nsudden, agitate the Sands with such impetuosity, that they over-whelm\nPassengers and Beasts with their Burthens, who perishing thus unawares,\nare thro\u2019 the power of the hot Sun and parching Sand so dry\u2019d, they\nbecome fix\u2019d and for ever undissolvable.\n[Sidenote: _Drying Quality_ of the _Earth_.]\nNext as to the Medicinal Virtue of the Soil of _Egypt_, and how far it\nmay be serviceable in _Embalming_ and preserving Bodies, every one, who\ndoes but consider its great Stipticity and drying Nature, will be very\nwell satisfy\u2019d: Besides this Earth is never much dampt by Rains or\nSprings, but kept constantly dry by the warmth of the Sun. _Aetius_ and\n_Galen_ commend it as good against _Phlegmons_, _Oedematous_ Tumors, and\nimmoderate Fluxes of the _H\u00e6morhoids_; also that it cures Dropsies\nmeerly by anointing with it, of which see more in _Olaus Borrichius_, p.\n146. Thus having consider\u2019d the _Water_, _Air_ and _Earth_ of _Egypt_, I\nwill next add some Observations of Father _Vansleb_ on the Seasons of\nthe Egyptian Year, with their Computation of Time, calculated according\nto the Account of the _Copties_.\n[Sidenote: _Seasons_ of the _Year_.]\nThe _Egyptians_ reckon their _Autumn_ from the 15th of _September_ to\nthe 15th of _December_. _Winter_ begins with them the 15th of\n_December_, and ends the 15th of _March_. _Spring_ begins the 15th of\n_March_, and ends the 15th of _June_. _Summer_ begins the 15th of\n_June_, and ends the 15th of _September_. They allot every _Season_ just\nThree Months, and begin their Year in _September_, as I observ\u2019d before.\nEvery Month has Thirty Days, which in Twelve Months make Three hundred\nand sixty Days; but because there yet want Five to complete the Year,\nthey add those at the end of all, and call them _Epagomene_, which\nsignifies _added_.\n[Sidenote: _Temperate Season._]\nThe most temperate Season, has still somewhat of _Spring_ or _Autumn_ in\nit, which two last cannot well be distinguish\u2019d in _Egypt_. Now the mild\nWeather commences in _September_, then they begin to breath the fresh\nAir, but, as about this Time, the Fields are all so cover\u2019d with Water,\none cannot Walk nor Travel by Land; an Abode there is not pleasant till\nthe middle of _November_, for then the Country\u2019s dry, the Ways free, the\nWaters run into their Channels, the Air pleasant, the heat of the Sun\nsupportable, the Fields green and sweet, and refreshing Gales blow\nevery-where. In short, the Season is then very comfortable, and so\ncontinues \u2019till the middle of _April_.\n[Sidenote: _Cold Season._]\nThe cold Season, answerable to our _Winter_, begins about the middle of\n_December_. It is a delightful Time, unless in those seven Days which\nthe _Arabians_ term, _Berd il agiuz_, (_the cold of the old Hag_.) They\nbegin about the 7th of _February_, and continue to the 14th. The\nMornings are then exceeding cold, the Sky cloudy, Rains fall, and the\nWinds are continually boisterous. Now tho\u2019 Winter be in this Country\nextream mild, yet do Persons of Quality always wear furr\u2019d Gowns from\nthe Month of _November_ to that of _March_, not on account of any great\ncold, for there is hardly any at this Time; but because the Weather is\nthen more variable, and the _Egyptians_ fear to be incommoded by\nDistempers, which such a changeable Time occasions.\n[Sidenote: _Intemperate Season._]\n_Summer_ is the worst and most troublesome Season, by reason of the\nexcessive heat of the hot Winds, and the perilous Diseases that are rife\nabout this Time, which the _Egyptians_ term _Camsins_, and we _Easter_:\nThis dangerous Season begins about the _Easter_-Monday of the _Copties_,\nand ends with their _Whitson_-Monday. About this Time the Winds, the\n_Arabians_ term _Merissi_, are boisterous; they are so hot and\ntroublesome, People are ready to be stifl\u2019d by them, and raise in the\nAir so much Straw and Sand, the Sky is almost darkned with it: This Sand\nis so subtile, it penetrates every little chink and cranny. About this\nTime _Malignant Fevers_, _Dysenterys_, and many other Diseases commonly\nreign, the least of which is incurable if not resisted by necessary\nRemedies timely apply\u2019d; nay, when these Winds blow, Bodies that were\nhealthy before, will sicken and grow out of order.\n[Sidenote: The _Winds_ which blow most in _Egypt_.]\nThese Southerly Winds blow not every Day in this Season, nor every Year\nin the same manner, or with a like impetuosity. \u2019Tis not possible to\nexpress the Peoples Joy when they favour them by becoming mild. Besides\nthe two chief Winds which blow in _Egypt_, viz. _Merissi_ and _Maltem_,\nI must farther take notice, that not only the Southern Winds are term\u2019d\n_Merissi_, but also the Eastern. These blow commonly twice every Year,\nat _Easter_, call\u2019d, as I have already said, _Camsin_, and from the\nMonth of _November_ to the middle of _February_. The Winds call\u2019d\n_Maltem_ or _Teijah_ are Westerly ones; they begin about Twelve Days\nbefore the Rains fall, and last \u2019till the Month of _November_, during\nwhich Time scarce any other Wind blows. The Winds _Merissi_ are hot and\nspoil the Corn, whereas these nourish and refresh it, and not only so,\nbut prove comfortable both to Man and Beast, since they are cooling and\nafford strength.\n[Sidenote: _Rains_ or _Mists_ of _Egypt_.]\nThe ordinary Time for _Rains_ and _Winds_, which might be compar\u2019d to\nour _Autumn_, begins in the Month of _December_, and lasts \u2019till\n_January_ or _February_, tho\u2019 at _Rosetta_ and _Alexandria_ the Rains\nfall at other Times, by reason of the propinquity of the Sea, nay\nsometimes it happens to be misty and moist at a Season when none expect\nit, which often proves so considerable as to wet ones Cloaths, as much\nas a shower of Rain: But these moist Mists are more frequent about\n_Cairo_ than any where else. They usually begin about _November_, before\nthe rising of the Sun, and continue all _Winter_. Some happen in other\nSeasons, and many times in _Summer_, as _Vansleb_ observ\u2019d in the Year\n1672. at the beginning of _August_, when returning back from _Fium_ to\n_Mocanan_, a Village about Four Hours from _Cairo_, he saw over that\nCity so thick a Mist, he could neither see the Buildings there, nor the\n_Pyramids_ that are near, tho\u2019 the Air was clear where he stood.\n[Sidenote: _Dew_ of _Egypt_.]\nThroughout all the Seasons of the Year, when the Nights are serene, so\nmuch Dew falls it may well be taken for a moderate Shower, whereas when\never the Sky is cloudy no Dew must be expected. Were it not for these\nDews, there would neither be Grass nor Corn in _Egypt_; the Trees would\nbear no Fruit, nor could the wild Beasts in the Desarts live, here being\nneither Fountains nor Rivers, and the Rains falling but seldom.\n[Sidenote: _Thunder_ seldom heard.] _Thunder_ is rarely heard, for in\nall the Time _Vansleb_ liv\u2019d in _Egypt_, he says, he heard that noise\nbut twice, _viz._ on the First of _January_ and the Fourth of _May_,\n[Sidenote: _Seasons_ why to be observ\u2019d in _Embalming_.]\nThese Things are to be regarded the more particularly, in that the\ntemperature of Seasons conduces much to the preservation of Bodies,\nwhich is so far to be consider\u2019d, as it acquaints us when is the best\nand most proper Time for Pickling, Preserving or _Embalming_ Bodies;\nwhat Time of the Year, Day or Moon is best for gathering Fruits,\nFlowers, Plants, _&c._ in order to the well preserving and laying them\nup, as also what Places are fittest for Repositories for them after they\nare gather\u2019d and prepar\u2019d; for there are some, both Places and Airs,\nwhere Sweet-Meats will give and dissolve, bak\u2019d Meats, Pyes, _&c._\ngather mould, Liquors mother, and Flesh or Fish corrupt sooner than in\nothers, wherefore such Places are to be avoided as exceeding prejudicial\nto _Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies, in as much as they will dispose what is not\npreserv\u2019d, to Putrifaction, and what is, to Relaxation. For this Reason\nmy Lord _Bacon_ advises us well, to be very careful in our choice of\nPlaces for this purpose, and to the end the aptness or propensity either\nof the Air or Water, to corrupt or putrifie, may be easier found out,\nproposes the following Experiments: [Sidenote: _Experiments_ of the\n_Air_.] _First_, To lay Wool, Sponge or a piece of Bread in a Place one\nwould make Tryal of, and then to observe whether it be wetter or more\nponderous than the same was when laid in other Places, by which one may\njudge whether the Place design\u2019d be in a moist or gross Air. _Secondly_,\nTo expose raw Flesh or Fish to the open Air, or lay them on the Earth,\nwhen if they quickly corrupt, \u2019tis a sign of a disposition in that Air\nto Putrifaction. _Thirdly_, The quick Putrifaction of Waters or Dews may\nlikewise disclose the Qualities of the Air and Vapours of the Earth more\nor less corrupt: \u2019Tis good also to make Trial not only of the moisture\nand dryness of the Air, but of the Temper thereof in heat or cold; for\nthat may concern Health variously, and whatever in this respect conduces\nthereto, the same is to be observ\u2019d in _Embalming_. _Fourthly_, The\ngoodness of Airs is likewise to be known by placing two Weather-Glasses\nin several Places, where no shades or inclosures are, and then remarking\ntheir difference, and the like. Now these sorts of Experiments serve for\na natural Divination of Seasons, shewing them much better than any\nAstronomers can do by their Figures. They also inform us of the\nwholsomness or unwholsomness of Dwelling-Places, and where to erect\nGranaries for Corn, Store-Houses for Fruits, Green-Houses for Plants,\nVaults for Wine, and Conservatories for other Things which require\nkeeping either hot, or cold and dry.\n[Sidenote: Of the _Water_.]\nNext as to Waters, this may serve for one Trial of their goodness,\n_viz._ To observe which will keep sweet the longest, for such likewise\ndenote the Healthfulness of any Place: Now, how far the goodness of\nWaters tend to the preservation of Bodies and Things, may well enough be\nobserv\u2019d from Brewing, Washing, Baking, and the like; for those that\nmake the strongest Drink, are ever the best concocted and most\nnourishing; those that bear Soap well, fret not out Cloaths like those\nthat are hungry, but are fat, smooth and soft in Taste, which is also\nallow\u2019d to be a general sign of good Water; so likewise such as are\nlightest and most apt quickly to boil away, are always best. Now these\nare the most useful in making Bread, Pyes, _&c._ and will keep them\nlongest without moulding; but of all _European_-Waters that of the River\n_Thames_ is the most noted for making Sea-Beer and Bisket, which are\ncarry\u2019d the longest Voyages, and into the hottest Countries of both\n_East_ and _West-Indies_.\n[Sidenote: The _Air_ and _Water_ of _Egypt_ very good.]\nBy these Considerations on the Air and Water, we may see the great\nadvantage _Egypt_ receiv\u2019d from the clearness and dryness of the one,\nand sweetness and softness of the other, to which _Herodotus_ chiefly\nattributes the Health and long Life of those People, as we, in some\nmeasure, may the continuance and duration of their _Embalmings_; for, as\ninequality of Air is pernicious to Health, so it is also to _Embalming_,\ntherefore we find the Winter-Seasons are not so proper for this Art as\nthe Summer, as producing much Rain, with misty or foggy Weather, which\ndisposes all things to Putrifaction, in so much that Flesh is then\nhardly to be kept from being musty or stinking, by reason it will not so\nwell take Salt at that Time. Things preserv\u2019d with Sugar relax, and\ndry\u2019d Things, imbibing the moisture, either rot or mould, which\nMouldiness is a beginning of Putrifaction, that afterwards turns to\nWorms or odious Stinks. [Sidenote: Inequality of _Air_ bad for\n_Embalming_.] Now as inequality of Air produces Putrifaction, so does\nalso an interchangeableness of heat and cold, wet and dry, as may be\nobserv\u2019d from the mouldring of Earth in Frost and the Sun, or in the\nmore hasty rotting of Wood that is sometimes wet and sometimes dry; so\nlikewise a certain degree of heat or cold preserves and keeps Bodies\nfrom Putrifaction, whereas a tepid heat inclines them to it; for, tho\u2019\nsuch a weak degree of heat may put the Spirits in a little motion, yet\nis it not able to digest the Parts, or rarifie them, as may be seen by\nFlesh kept in a Room that is not cool, whereas in a cold and wet Larder\n\u2019twill keep much longer, and we observe that Vivification, as the Lord\n_Bacon_ says in his _Nat. Hist._ p. 74. (whereof Putrifaction is the\nbastard Brother) is effected by such soft Heats, as the hatching of\nEggs, commonly practis\u2019d at _Cairo_, the heat of the Womb, _&c._ whereas\nsuch a heat as breaths forth adventitious Moisture best preserves\nBodies; for as wetting hastens Corruption, so convenient drying (whereby\nthe more radical Moisture is only kept in) puts back Putrifaction: So we\nmay also observe that Herbs and Flowers, when dry\u2019d in the shade or hot\nSun, for a small space keep best. For these Reasons the warm Climate of\n_Egypt_ must needs conduce best to the preservation of Things and\n_Embalming_ Bodies, provided it be not attempted in the extream heat of\nthe Summer, which is between _Easter_ and _Whitsontide_, at which Time\nthe hot Southerly Winds blow, which bring malignant Fevers, Plagues and\ngreat Putrifactions. Thus much as to the temperature of the Air shall\nsuffice; next we must speak of the _Egyptians_.\n[Sidenote: The antient _Egyptians_.]\nThe antient and true _Egyptians_ were the _Copties_ or _Copts_, so\ncall\u2019d, as I have formerly shown, p. 126. from _Coptus_, Son of\n_Misraim_, who became King of _Egypt_ upon the Decease of his Father,\nand his Conquest over his Brothers; for those who now inhabit that\nCountry, according to _Sandys_, _Heylin_ and others, [Sidenote:\n_Character_ of the modern _Egyptians_.] are much degenerate from the\nIngenuity and Worth of their Ancestors, being not only Ignorant but\nBarbarous, devoted to Luxury and Venery, and naturally addicted to\ndetract from what is Good and Eminent, nay, in a word, they are both\nCowardly and Cruel. In their Dealings they are more Observant than\nFaithful; of a Genius much inclin\u2019d to Craftiness, and very eager of\nProfit. Such as inhabit the Cities apply themselves to Merchandize, grow\nRich by Trading, are reasonably well Habited, and not very differing\nfrom the _Turks_ in Dress and Fashion. Those in the Country, who follow\nHusbandry, are affirm\u2019d to be a brutish and nasty People, crusted over\nwith Dirt, and stinking of Smoak and their abominable Fuel; for they\nburn their own Dung, and that of Cattle, instead of Wood, which is here\nso scarce it is sold by weight, and us\u2019d only by Foreigners and the\nricher sort. Nothing now remains among them of the laudable Arts of\ntheir Ancestors, but a ridiculous affectation of Divination and\nFortune-telling, in which, and some other cheating Tricks, they are very\nwell vers\u2019d, great numbers of them wandring from Place to Place, to get\ntheir Livelihoods that way. This occasions Vagabonds and Straglers of\nother Nations, who pretend to the same false Arts to assume their Names.\nThe whole Body of the present Inhabitants is an hotchpotch or medly of\nmany foreign Nations, such as _Moors_, _Arabians_, _Turks_, _Greeks_,\n_Jews_, _Franks_, &c. the natural _Egyptians_ making the least part of\nthe number.\n[Sidenote: The _Make_, _Complexion_ and _Temper_ of the _Egyptians_.]\nNow as concerning the Make, Complexion, Temper and Constitution of the\n_Egyptians_ in general, that varies according to the different Quality\nor Employ of the Person or Sex. Those that dwell in _Cairo_ and other\nCities are gross, corpulent and sanguine, whereas the wandring\n_Arabians_ and Husbandmen are meagre and slender, very active and\nnimble, yet withal hairy, sweaty, and almost scorcht and burnt up with\nthe Sun. The People in general are of a mean Stature, tawny Complexion,\nand spare Bodies, and this is remarkable of them, that tho\u2019 their\nCountry be in the same Climate with _Barbary_, yet are they not black,\nbut tawny or olive-colour\u2019d. The Women are of the same Complexion with\nthe Men, yet well shap\u2019d and featur\u2019d, did not they too much affect a\nseeming Corpulency, which if they cannot get in Flesh they will be sure\nto have in Cloaths. [Sidenote: Their _Women_ fruitful in _Children_.]\nThey Marry at Ten, or at farthest at Twelve Years of Age, being very\nfruitful, some bearing Three or Four Children at a Birth; and those that\nare born in the Eighth Month live to a good Age, and are not in such\ndanger of Death, as in other Countries.\n[Sidenote: Their _Constitutions_ and _Habits_ of _Body_.]\nAs to the Constitutions of the _Egyptians_, they are hot and dry, being\nby nature very wakeful and little inclin\u2019d to sleep. They are of a\nchearful Temper, yet delight much in an idle and lazy kind of Life,\nbeing immoderate Votaries to _Venus_. Their continual Bathing, drinking\nthe Waters of _Nile_, and using cold Food, mightily lessen and alter\ntheir heat and drought; but then this inconveniency ensues, that they\nhave cold and raw Stomachs full of Phlegm, which not only proceeds from\nsuch cold Dyet, but also from the extraordinary heat of the Air, whereby\nthe natural heat is overcome.\n[Sidenote: Are very long _liv\u2019d_.]\nThey are nevertheless said to be longer liv\u2019d than those of other\nCountries, it being common to find among them People of above a Hundred\nYears of Age. The reason of this long\u0153vity Phisicians differ greatly\nabout, yet assign, as the chiefest Cause of it, next to the Air, the\nspare way of living of that People, they eating little Flesh, but store\nof Roots, Fruits and Herbs, nor often drinking any Wine, but commonly\nWater, and sometimes Beer, which _Herodotus_ Lib. 1. Sect. 77. assures\nus the antient _Egyptians_ made. On the contrary, all _Europeans_, who\ndrink abundance of Wine, and eat much Flesh, are for the most part short\nliv\u2019d. [Sidenote: A _Problem_ concerning _Diet_.] _Therefore whether it\nwere not better for us to conform to the simple Diet of our Forefathers?\nWhether pure and simple Waters be not more healthful than fermented\nLiquors? Whether there be not an ample sufficiency in the Food of Honey,\nOil, and several parts of Milk; in the great variety of Grains, Pulses\nand all sorts of Fruits, since either Bread or Beverage may be made\nalmost of all of them? Whether Nations have rightly confin\u2019d themselves\nto peculiar Meats? Whether the common Food of one Country be not more\nagreeable to another? How indistinctly all Tempers apply to the same,\nand how the Diet of Youth and old Age is confounded, are Considerations\nworth our notice_, says Sir _Thomas Brown_ in his _Vulgar Errors_, p.\n138. _and might not a little prolong our Days_; yet must not this\nDiscourse, therefore I will proceed to speak of some Diseases the\n_Egyptians_ have been always liable to. [Sidenote: Their _Diseases_.]\nThese are occasion\u2019d either by the intemperate Air, the Summers here\nbeing exceeding hot and sultry, or else by reason the Poor, who are very\nnumerous, are necessitated to eat foul and unwholsome Food, such as the\nflesh of Camels, of Crocodiles, (by some worshipp\u2019d and consequently\nheld Irreligious) rotten salt Fish, and mouldy stinking Cheese, by them\ncall\u2019d _Gibnehalon_. They are also accustom\u2019d to drink muddy and corrupt\nWaters, whereby is ingendred much Choler, thick and adust Blood, gross\nand crude Humours, which create many Distempers, the chief of which, and\nmost to our purpose, are _Sore Eyes_ and _Blindness_, _Scabs_ and\n_Leprosie_, _Dropsie_, _Frenzie_, _Malignant Fevers_, _Poxes_ of both\nkinds, _Plague_ and _Pestilence_, &c. which tho\u2019 other Nations are\nlikewise subject to, yet it being not so constantly or grieviously,\nthese may properly enough be nam\u2019d, _The Plagues of_ Egypt; wherefore I\nshall a little expatiate upon them, with a suitable Application to our\nSubject of _Embalming_.\n[Sidenote: _Sore Eyes_ and _Blindness_.]\n_First_, I shall take notice of the incredible number of blind People in\n_Egypt_, but more-especially in _Cairo_, where sore Eyes or _Opthalmia_\nare so common, scarce half the Inhabitants escape them. Nay, new-born\ninfants are so troubl\u2019d with this Distemper, that it is sometimes hardly\nto be cur\u2019d, for it seems a Disease lodg\u2019d in the Blood, of which the\nNatives give this Reason, _viz._ That the subtile Particles of the Lime,\nwherewith their Houses are built, being carry\u2019d about by the Wind, stick\nso close to the Eyes, that they not only cause Inflammations, but\nlikewise insensibly mixing with the Blood, occasion this Distemper to be\nHereditary; to which _Sandys_ adds, as other Causes of this Disease, the\nreflecting heat of the Sun, the salt Dust of the Soil, and the\nInhabitants excessive Venery; wherefore did they not use frequent\nBathings in this Country, the stinking Sweat of their Bodies, mix\u2019d with\nthis Dust, which so continually rises and adheres to them, wou\u2019d, by\nstopping their Pores, not only render them nasty and frowzy, but also\ntheir Blood becoming Pruriginous, and exalted by the salt and corrupt\nDiet, [Sidenote: _Scabs_ and _Leprosie_.] wou\u2019d, as it often does,\nproduce _Mange_, _Scabs_ and _Leprosies_; so that to keep themselves\nsweet, clean and free from these Diseases, they are wont to use constant\nBathings, and refrain from salt Meats, which are very unwholsome to\nthese _Eastern_ Nations. _Herodotus_ assures us they in his Time\nabstain\u2019d from Swines Flesh, as particularly apt to beget _Leprosie_ in\nhot Countries, if salted, and if not, or well roasted, infallibly brings\na _Diarrh\u00e6a_, or else turns to some dangerous Fever or Surfet.\n_Hippocrates_, Lib. _Poss._ _p._ 5. observes, it throws some People into\na _Cholera Morbus_, that is, It works vehemently upon them by Choleric\nVomits and Stools. _Plutarch_ likewise remarks, that the very Milk of\nthis Beast being drank, produces the _Scab_, &c.\n[Sidenote: _Dropsie._]\nThe _Egyptians_ also from their too frequent use of _Colocasia_,\n_Bammia_, _Melochia_, _Beets_, and such like Herbs as occasion thick and\ntough Flegm, are often troubl\u2019d with the _Dropsie_, which swells and\npuffs up their Legs, with abundance of hard and gross Humours, like the\nLegs of an Elephant, tho\u2019 indeed they feel no pain, but are only\nunweildy to walk.\n[Sidenote: _Apoplexy._]\nAt _Cairo_ rages that most terrible Disease call\u2019d by the _Arabians_,\n_Dem el Muia_, which in few Hours seizes the Brain like an Apoplexy, and\nbereaving it of Sense, soon dispatches the Patient. Every Year once the\n_Egyptians_ are surpriz\u2019d by this Disease, and multitudes die dayly of\nit. At the same Time Children are wont to be greatly afflicted with a\nmalignant kind of _Pox_, [Sidenote: _Small Pox._] bred out of venemous\nDamps, arising from the corrupt Waters of _Caleg_, a Branch or rather\nTrench cut from the _Nile_ to _Alexandria_. Every Year, when that River\nrises 8 or 10 Cubits, it falls into this Trench, and so runs thro\u2019 the\nwhole City; so that, at the retiring of the River, this Water, remaining\nwithout motion, stagnates and corrupts: It first becomes green, then\nblack, and at length sends fourth Pestilential Vapours, whereby the Air\nis polluted and this Infection caus\u2019d, wherefore, some Time before it is\nexpected, all the Children thereabouts are remov\u2019d to other Places.\n_Sandys_ also tells us, [Sidenote: _French Pox._] the _French Pox_ is\nexceedingly rife among the _Egyptians_, which however is not to be\nwonder\u2019d at if we consider their hot Constitution, excessive Venery,\n[Sidenote: Malignant _Agues_.]\nIn _Alexandria_ many malignant and mortal _Agues_ reign about the Time\nof their Harvest, occasion\u2019d by drinking the tainted and foul Waters,\nwhich the Townsmen keep from Year to Year in Wells under their Houses.\nBut the most destructive of all Diseases to the _Egyptians_ is the\n_Pestilence_ or _Plague_, [Sidenote: _Plague._] which very frequently\nvisits them, and is the more prevalent in that they seek no Remedy for\nit, as believing none can die of it but such as are destin\u2019d by GOD. For\nthis Reason they never go about to avoid any infected Person or Place,\nfor that they look upon as Irreligious. Nay the very Cloaths or\nHoushold-Goods of such as die of this Distemper, are instantly sold in\nthe open Market by Outcry, which none are afraid to buy, thro\u2019 which mad\nobstinacy, in this their foolish Opinion, the Plague has in _Cairo_,\nduring only the space of six or seven Months, sometimes swept away above\nFive hundred thousand People, as was observ\u2019d in the Year 1580.\nThose _Plagues_ which come out of _Barbary_ are the most pernicious and\nof longest continuance, of which kind was the before mention\u2019d; whereas\nsuch as come from _Greece_ or _Syria_ are more mild and of a shorter\nduration; for this Disease is seldom or never occasion\u2019d by Putrifaction\nof Air in _Egypt_, unless the _Nile_, overflowing the Country too high,\nleaves its Waters a long while on the Ground, whereby the whole Land\nbecoming a corrupt and standing Lake, that by the Southerly Winds and\nSummers heat, may be ripen\u2019d and made fit to send up infectious Steams.\nThat _Plague_ which begins in the first Months of Summer is the worst,\nwhereas that which comes later is milder and ceases sooner. But let the\n_Plague_ rage never so fiercely, when the Sun enters _Cancer_, which is\nthe Time of _Nile_\u2019s overflowing, it wholly ceases, insomuch that not\none then dies of it, as has been before shown. The Reason of this so\nsudden alteration seems to be the even and constant Temperature of the\nAir, thro\u2019 the blowing of the anniversary _North Winds_, which then\nbegin to rise and oppose the moist Nature of the _South Winds_, call\u2019d\n_Camsin_. Now these cooling, as well the Air as Mens Bodies, and taking\naway the Cause (the infectious Heat) the Effect soon ceases.\nThus far have I shown how the infection of Air and Water may occasion\nmany Diseases, which therefore are carefully to be avoided as pernicious\nto _Embalming_: I shall now only observe, that as the even Temper and\ngood Humour of Man tends much to his Health and long Life, so that\nhealthy State and Constitution, either affords a Natural _Embalming_, or\nat least such Bodies are easiest to be preserv\u2019d. But whether those\nBodies that dy\u2019d of the Plague, or other malignant Distempers, could\nwith any Art be preserv\u2019d, is a _Qu\u00e6re_ of no small concern in this our\n_Natural History_, and must needs to the _Egyptians_ bring a great\nscruple of Conscience, who believ\u2019d the _Metempsychosis_ or\nTransmigration of Souls, to think what must become of such Bodies as\nwere not _Embalm\u2019d_? Since therefore no History can give us any\nsatisfaction herein, we are inclinable to believe they could not any\nways be preserv\u2019d, by reason of the immediate tendency of such tabid\nCarcasses to Putrifaction, and yet we know not but the _Egyptians_ might\ndo more in this case than others could, both thro\u2019 the efficacy and\ngoodness of their Medicines, and their not being afraid of the\ninfectious Steams which issue from such Bodies, during their hot\n_Embalming_; which brings me next to enquire into their Skill in\n_Physic_, _Anatomy_ and _Chymistry_. In order to this, I shall first\nbegin with the Rise and Progress of their Physic, according to the\nOpinion of the Learned Dr. _Grew_; and then shew its Effects, and how it\nwas practis\u2019d, as affirm\u2019d by _Herodotus_, _Diodorus Siculus_, _Prosper\nAlpinus_, and others.\n[Sidenote: _Egyptians_ first Authors of _Medicine_.]\n\u2018The _Egyptians_, says Dr. _Grew_ in his _Cosmologia Sacra_, p. 265.\nbeing from sundry Causes (some of which we have already discours\u2019d of)\nthe most diseas\u2019d of all People, were also the first Authors of\nMedicine. _Mizraim_ their first King, otherwise call\u2019d _Menez_,\n_Osiris_, _Dionisius_ and _Bacchus_, all being Names of the same Person,\ntogether with his Wife _Isis_, apply\u2019d himself to furnish his People\nwith wholsome Food. He with Wine, which he had learn\u2019d to make of his\nGrandfather _Noah_; [Sidenote: _Osiris_ taught them _Drink_ and _Food_.]\nand with Water, in making the best use of the River _Nile_; and She, by\nteaching them, among so many various sorts of Roots and Fruits,\n[Sidenote: _Isis_ salubrious _Plants_.] wherewith _Egypt_ abounds, to\ndistinguish the _Noxious_, many of which, as _Sulpitius Severus_ and _P.\nAlpinus_ observe, are very sweet and tempting, from those which are\nwholsome and fit to eat; from whence she was call\u2019d \u1f59\u03b3\u03b5\u1f77\u03b1 and _Salus_.\n\u2018Their next King was _Orus_, by _Herodotus_, _Diodorus Siculus_ and\n_Athenagoras_ in his Apology to the _Christians_, said to be _Osiris_\u2019s\nSon. This Prince seeing Food already provided for, bethought himself of\nsome means, such as they were, for the cure of Diseases. The first step\nhe took, being affrighted with a _Plague_, was to offer Sacrifice to the\nCelestial Bodies, which he suppos\u2019d Gods, and the only Arbiters of Life\nand Death. Therefore _Anebo_ the _Egyptian_ Priest, [Sidenote: These\n_Orus_, Son of _Osiris_, apply\u2019d for _Physic_, by Sacrificing them.]\npersonated by _Jamblichus_, in his Book of the _Egyptian Mysteries_\nsays, That, even in his Time, they knew no other way of curing that\nDisease; and what _Isis_ had found out for Food, he thought best apply\u2019d\nto this purpose. So _Porphyrius_ in his Book of Sacrifices tells us, the\nmost ancient _Egyptians_, _C\u0153lestibus litabant_, with Herbs, Roots and\nFruits, which at first _Orus_ offer\u2019d singly, but afterwards compounded,\nsupposing them thereby, as is intimated by _Proclus_, the more\nacceptable.\n\u2018The _Plague_ and other contagious Diseases, being blown away, as they\ncommonly were and are, by the _North Winds_, _Orus_ thought it decent to\nsolemnize his Sacrifices with Music; [Sidenote: To which he added\n_Music_.] and that he had excellent Skill herein, is witness\u2019d by\n_Diodorus_, from whence also he is taken to be the _Egyptian Apollo_.\nNow finding Music acceptable to the People, he apply\u2019d that also, with\nthe Sacrifices to which it was annex\u2019d, towards the cure of Diseases;\nfor which Reason Music is by _Jamblichus_, in his Book aforesaid,\nenobl\u2019d with the Title of Divine. And it seem\u2019d, for many Ages after, so\nnecessary to Medicine, as to give occasion to _Thessalus_, Head of the\nMethodic Sect in the Reign of _Nero_, to brag, That he could make\nPhysicians without the help either of Astrology or Music. Thus all Music\nconsisting in a proportionate Measure, he saw it requisite the Notes or\nTunes, and Words he us\u2019d with them, should be commensurate one to the\nother, and so became the first Poet or Maker of Verses; [Sidenote: And\n_Poetry_.] which being us\u2019d with Music, were suppos\u2019d to have the same\nDivine Virtue, and came at length to be us\u2019d alone in the cure of\nDiseases. And it is by _Sanchuniathon_ affirm\u2019d, that _Misora_, that is\n_Misraim_, [Sidenote: Thence thought to be the _Egyptian Apollo_.] was\none of those two antient Gods, whose Sons were the Inventors of\nMedicinal Charms, which as it seems were all the means _Orus_, or the\n_Egyptian Apollo_, invented for the cure of Diseases, _viz._\n_Sacrifices_, _Music_ and _Charms_, upon which three he began likewise\nto build the Art of Divination; and as a branch hereof, his Magical\nPrognostics in relation to Diseases. \u2019Next to _Orus_ succeeded\n_Athothus_; by _Sanchuniathon_ nam\u2019d, _Taautus_; by the less antient\n_Egyptians_, [Sidenote: _Athothus_ the antient _Egyptian Mercury_,]\n_Thoyth_, and by the _Greeks_ in _Alexandria_, _Thoth_. He was the most\nantient _Egyptian Mercury_; said by _Manetho_ and _Eratosthenes_ to be\nSon of _Menez_ or _Mizraim_, and was therefore younger Brother to\n_Orus_, whom he succeeded by _Noah_\u2019s Gift, as is witness\u2019d by\n_Sanchuniathon_: _Saturnus, in Deum Taautum a Misore Natum, Egypti\nRegnum contulit_. This Man, to add to what his Predecessor had done,\n[Sidenote: The Inventor of _Images_,] was the Inventor of Images,\ndedicated to the Sun, Moon and Stars, with their Figures upon them,\naccording to their position in the Heavens, supposing they would be more\neffectually mov\u2019d by the Sacrifices offer\u2019d to them, if thereby honour\u2019d\nand represented. And that none might be without what he thought so\nnecessary for the Peoples Health, he caus\u2019d the making not only of\nImages of Gold and Silver, but certain Sculptures or Paintings upon Wood\nor some other Ground. The Figures or Marks, made upon all these,\n[Sidenote: _Characters_,] were properly call\u2019d _Characters_, and were\nthe original of all those us\u2019d by Magicians in after Times for the cure\nof Diseases: Whence it is these _Characters_, which were properly made,\nare said by _Jamblichus_ to be _Diis congrui_, that is, agreeable to the\nCelestial Bodies, they were suppos\u2019d to represent; in which Sense also\nthe Author of the Epistle to the _Hebrews_, speaking of the Second\nPerson in the Sacred Trinity, uses the same word.\n\u2018The same _Athothus_, observing how naturally the Music of the\nSacrifices put the Body into many Motions, [Sidenote: and _Dancing_.]\ntook thence occasion to reduce the motion of the Feet, as _Apollo_ had\ndone those of Speech, to a proportionate Measure, that is, to an\nartificial Dance. That he was first Author hereof, is agreed from his\nbeing describ\u2019d with Wings, not only on his Shoulders, but Heels; and\nthat he had taught the People to apply it to Religion, is as evident\nfrom the _Jews_, who had learn\u2019d of the _Egyptians_ to dance about the\nGolden Calf. Now, seeing this naturally conduces towards the cure of\nsome Diseases, \u2019tis likely he hereupon invented several sorts of Dances,\nnot as yet considering their natural but magical Aptitude to divers\nkinds of Diseases, supposing certain Numbers and Measures, might as well\nas Words, have a Divine Power. Now that he might make his Motions with\ngreater ease in so hot a Country, \u2019tis probable he danc\u2019d half naked, as\n_David_ did before the Ark, disdaining the Author of this Ceremony\nshould shew more Zeal before an Idol, than he did before the true GOD.\nTherefore as the word _Gymnasium_ does properly signifie the Place where\nPeople exercise themselves when stripp\u2019d; so upon this Foundation, which\n_Athothus_ or the first _Egyptian Mercury_ laid, was afterwards rais\u2019d\nthe _Gymnastic Art_. For this Cause also _Jamblichus_, speaking of the\nPowers which flow from the Gods, among those which co-operate with\nNature, mentions only the _Medicinal_ and _Gymnastic_ as the two\nprincipal, and of kin to each other; nor is there ground to imagine,\nthat in Medicine, _Athothus_ or the first _Mercury_, understood any\nThing more. So that all the means the _Egyptians_ made use of hitherto\nin the cure of Diseases, _viz._ \u2019till about the 350th Year after the\nFlood, were to be referr\u2019d intirely to their practical _Theology_,\nstil\u2019d by _Jamblichus_ \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b9\u03ba\u1f75 \u03c4\u1f73\u03c7\u03bd\u03b7, of which their magical Medicine\nwas a principal part. [Sidenote: Sacrific\u2019d _Animals_, and learn\u2019d\n_Embalming_ and _Anatomy_.] After him they began to Sacrifice Animals as\nwell as Plants, and learn\u2019d the _Art_ of _Embalming_. The Priests had\nhereby an opportunity of observing the structure of the inward Parts;\nand so of making many, both Anatomic and Pathologic Remarks. In doing\nthis it appears by what _Pliny_ says, _Lib._ 19. 5. _That Kings\nthemselves did often assist_. Also frequently perceiving the inefficacy\nof their _Magic_, they began likewise to enquire into the Physical power\nof Herbs, and other Remedies proper for the cure of Diseases, and the\nCures suppos\u2019d to be made, whether by natural or magical Arts, were\npreserv\u2019d by some sort of Memoirs made of them by the Priests,\n[Sidenote: _Serapis_ or _Apis_ the _Egyptian \u00c6sculapius_.] wherein a\nmore especial care was taken by _Serapis_ or _Apis_ one of the Chief,\nand the _Egyptian \u00c6sculapius_. Upon these accounts, the Priests, as they\nwere the Doctors in Philosophy, [Sidenote: _Priests_ the proper\n_Physicians_.] so were they the only Physicians, properly so call\u2019d, by\nwhom Directions were given to _Surgeons_, _Embalmers_, and all other\nOperators appertaining to Medicine. They were also of that honourable\nDegree, as _Gyraldus_ reports from _Plato_, that out of them the Kings\nwere often chosen. For altho\u2019 the Servants of _Joseph_, who _Embalm\u2019d_\nhis Father, were term\u2019d Physicians, yet are we to understand those Men,\nwho were directed by the Priests, the true Physicians, to be only\nOperators in curing the Infirm or _Embalming_ the Dead. Wherefore the\n_Septuagint_, who knew the Law in this Case, do not say, the Command was\ngiven \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f38\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 but \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2, a sort of Men to whom the Care\nof Funerals was committed.\n\u2018The next and greatest Improver and Patron of the _Egyptian_ Medicine,\n[Sidenote: _Hermes Trismegistus._] was _Hermes Trismegistus_, so call\u2019d\nsays _Diodorus Siculus_, and others after him, from \u1f11\u03c1\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\u03b5\u1f7b\u03c9, by reason\nhe interpreted the _Hieroglyphics_ and Sacred _Language_: But this tho\u2019\nhe did, yet the derivation of his Name from thence is a fiction; for\naccording to the _Greek_ manner of deriving a Noun from a Verb, he\nshould not have been call\u2019d \u1f19\u03c1\u03bc\u1fc6\u03c2 but \u1f19\u03c1\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2; and therefore on the\ncontrary, as \u1f19\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\u1f77\u03bf\u03c2, \u1f11\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\u1f77\u03b6\u03c9 and other like Words, are all deriv\u2019d\nfrom \u1f1d\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd the Son of _Deucalion_, who first planted _Greece_; so\n\u1f11\u03c1\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\u03b5\u1f7b\u03c2, \u1f11\u03c1\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\u03b5\u1f7b\u03c9, and other Words of the same nature are all deriv\u2019d\nfrom \u1f19\u03c1\u03bc\u1fc6\u03c2; for the Original whereof, we are not to look into _Greece_\nbut _Egypt_, where we find _Armais_, one of their Kings, and somewhat\njunior to _Moses_, [Sidenote: Suppos\u2019d to be _Armais_.] as _Hermes_ is\nalso said to be. The radical Letters in both are also the same. This\n_Armais_ was also call\u2019d _Amersis_ or _Mersurius_, and so by mistake\n_Mercurius_; the _Coptic_ Letter _Sima_ being written like the _Roman_\nC, and also _Trismegistus_, or thrice very great, answerable to a like\n_Egyptian_ Name, now lost, given him, [Sidenote: A great _Philosopher_,\n_Priest_ and _King_.] as he was esteem\u2019d a great Philosopher, a great\nPriest and a great King.\n[Sidenote: The second _Mercury_.]\n\u2018This second _Mercury_, having before him a considerable stock of\nObservations provided by the Priests, and several others of his own,\ncompos\u2019d all, as _Jamblichus_ from _Sulencus_ and _Manetho_ reports,\ninto many thousands of Volumes, that is, of so many Leaves roul\u2019d up of\nBooks, afterwards made of these Volumes. _Clemens Alexandrinus_,\n_Strom._ 6. says, _There were Forty two which were useful_; six of them\nappertaining to Medicine, _viz._ of _Anatomy_, _Diseases_, _Surgery_,\n_Pharmacy_, particular Medicines for the _Eyes_, infected with many\nDiseases in _Egypt_, and lastly for _Women_; which Books became, as may\nbe gather\u2019d from _Diodorus Siculus_, as it were the Statute-Law in\n_Egypt_, for the practice in Physic in after Times. [Sidenote: The great\nestablisher of _Magic_.] Yet in all these Books, it is certain, with the\nphysical Account of Things, there was a mixture of _Magic_; the Author\nof them being the great Establisher of this Art. Now if some\nChronologers are not mistaken when they say _Armais_ was the King who\nwas drown\u2019d in the _Red-Sea_, then this same _Armais_, that is, _Hermes\nTrismegistus_ must be the very Man, who by his Magicians contended with\n_Moses_; and was therefore rais\u2019d up, the more remarkably to confound\nthem at his fall. It is manifest the Books now and antiently extant,\nunder this _Hermes_\u2019s Name, are all of this Nature; which tho\u2019 not\nwritten by him, but by certain of the later _Egyptian_ Priests, are\nbeliev\u2019d by _Jamblichus_, _Porphirius_ and others, faithfully to\nrepresent his Sense. Therefore _Celsus_, also quoted by _Origen_ against\nhim, _Lib._ 8. tells us, as a piece of _Egyptian Philosophy_, in his\nTime current, That the Body of Man was divided into Thirty six Parts;\neach of which was possess\u2019d with a _God_ or _D\u00e6mon_, which being call\u2019d\nupon by the _Magi_, cur\u2019d the Diseases of the parts they possess\u2019d. And\nas they appropriated several unto one Man, so, says _Herodotus_, did\nthey to every Beast one; to all, says _Justin_, but the _Hog_. And by\nthe Author of the Book entitul\u2019d, _Trismegisti Asclepias_, the same in\neffect is said of Plants and Stones, _viz._ That there was \u03c4\u1f78 \u0398\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd,\nsomething of Divinity in them all; nor was the magical Ceremony laid\naside in _Galen_\u2019s Time, as appears by what he reports of one\n_Pamphilus_, _Qui ad Pr\u00e6stigiaturas \u00c6gyptias versus fuit, junctis\nIncantationibus quas obmurmurat, cum Herbas colligunt_. Also the Author\nof the Book, _De Medicamentis Expertis_, ascrib\u2019d to _Galen_, speaking\nof the _Egyptian_ Priests, has this passage, _Laudamus Medicos\nAltarium_, \u00c6gyptiorum puta, _qui curant cum Cibis Sacrificiorum_.\n[Sidenote: _Magical Medicine_ spread over most _Countries_.]\n\u2018Nor did magical Medicine keep within _Egypt_ only, but was thence\nspread abroad into most other Countries, partly as they fell under the\nGovernment of some of their conquering Kings, and partly as _Egypt_ was\nthe great Academy, to which the Philosophers of other Nations made their\nresort, and whence Physicians were often call\u2019d unto Foreign Princes,\nwho, with their physical, carry\u2019d abroad their magical Skill. The\nyounger _Apollo_ was Author of _Divination_ in _Greece_, as the elder\nwas in _Egypt_. Also in _Epidaurus_, _Cous_ and other Places, his Temple\nwas always full of sick People; as was likewise that of _\u00c6sculapius_.\n[Sidenote: _Medicines_, why call\u2019d _Pharmaca_.]\n\u2018Medicines were term\u2019d _Pharmaca_, which antiently signify\u2019d Poysons,\nbecause it was believ\u2019d, unless they were magically us\u2019d, they would do\nmore hurt than good; therefore _Jarchas_, in his Life of _Apollonius_,\ntells us also, They who were esteem\u2019d Sons of _\u00c6sculapius_ had made but\nsmall proficiency in the Art of Medicine, _Nisi \u00c6sculapius, juxta Patris\nsui Vaticinia, Morbis proficua Remedia composuisset_. Nor were the\nOriental Nations without their _Teraphim_, a sort of constellated\nImages, by them so call\u2019d, and us\u2019d, among other purposes, in the cure\nof Diseases; from whence \u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03cd\u03c9, signifies both to worship and heal.\n_Eusebius_ also in his _Prol. ad_ Lib. 4. _Pr\u00e6p. Evang._ reduces all to\n_Theology_, as in _Egypt_, so among the rest of the _Gentiles_: _In\nGentilium Theologia Civili, continentur Oracula, Responsa, & Cur\u00e6\nMorborum_. So true is that Saying of _Celsus_, concerning _Hippocrates_\nin his Pr\u00e6face: _Primus Disciplinam hanc_, Medicinalem puta, _ab studio\nSapienti\u00e6 separavit_: that is, from _magical Theology_, the reputed\nWisdom of those Times.\u2019\nThat this was the antient state of Medicine in _Egypt_, and all over the\nWorld, is farther apparent from the _Hebrews_, being peremptorily\nrequir\u2019d to expel from among them, all such as practis\u2019d the same,\n_Deut._ 18. 10, 11. Those who Sacrifice their Children, as the\n_Ph\u00e6nicians_ did for a Remedy against the Plague, as also Diviners,\nObservers of Times, Enchanters, Witches, Charmers, Consulters of\nFamiliar Spirits, Wizards and Necromancers; so many kinds of Magicians,\nwho among other Things, undertook the Cure and Prognostics of Diseases,\nso many several ways, particularly the Charmer, _v._ 11. term\u2019d by the\n_Septuagint_, \u03c6\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03b5\u1f77\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u1f75\u03bd one that us\u2019d Medicines and\nCharms together: [Sidenote: _Magic_ us\u2019d in _Embalming_.] Thus was\n_Magic_ so generally mix\u2019d by the _Egyptians_ with their _Physic_, that\nthe very Dead that were _Embalm\u2019d_ were not free from it. This appears\nfrom the various Ornaments of their _Mummies_, being adorn\u2019d with\npainted Characters and Hieroglyphics, and defended by several little\nIdols or Averruncal Gods. Some of these were plac\u2019d within the Bodies,\nas suppos\u2019d, perhaps to preserve them from Corruption; and others were\nsow\u2019d to their out-sides, plac\u2019d upon their Tombs, or in their\nBurial-Vaults, there to guard them from external Injuries, and by the\nvarious Shapes they represented, to deter Men from violating them; but\nof these we shall speak more particularly in another place.\nYet however Superstitious and Idolatrous the antient _Egyptians_ were in\nMagical Physic, they were soon convinc\u2019d of the inefficacy of such\nPractices, therefore study\u2019d other Methods and Physical Remedies, which\nmight prove more prevalent; and altho\u2019 they did not immediately leave\noff the former, yet was it to the latter only their admirable success in\nPhysic was owing. In like manner are we to believe the preservation of\ndead Bodies was not effected by those Charms or Idols, found about them,\nbut purely perform\u2019d by an extraordinary Skill in _Medicine_ and\n_Anatomy_, and particularly in that exquisite _Art_ of _Embalming_. In\nthis, that they might be the better instructed, and more thoroughly\nknowing, they took such infallible Methods, as none could hardly be\nignorant of that part they were to perform; for they had these several\nPersons belonging to and employ\u2019d in _Embalming_, [Sidenote: _Persons_\nhow qualify\u2019d for _Embalming_.] each performing a distinct and separate\nOffice, _viz._ a _Designer_ or _Painter_, a _Dissector_ or _Anatomist_,\na _Pollinctor_ or _Apothecary_, an _Embalmer_ or _Surgeon_, and a\n_Physician_ or _Priest_, which last was a great _Philosopher_, and\ntaught and instructed the others in these Ceremonies, as we shall shew\nin its proper Place.\nBy this means, not only the Art of _Embalming_, but likewise every\nbranch of Physic, flourish\u2019d and came to the greatest perfection,\nwhereas, in our Age, every Art grows the more imperfect as it incroaches\non another, and the civil Wars now a Days between _Physicians_,\n_Surgeons_ and _Apothecaries_ have been the chief occasions of reducing\nPhysic to so low an ebb; for whilst these have been fighting for each\nothers Countries, the Monarchy was usurp\u2019d by _Quacks_ and\n_Undertakers_, who are the only _Vultures_ that attend such Battles, in\norder to prey immediately on the vanquish\u2019d Enemy. Now did every one\nkeep to his own Province, as they did formerly in _Egypt_, there would\nbe none of these Divisions among us, but every Art would flourish and\nstand upon its own Basis, and yet, I assure you, it would be found more\ndifficult to understand, and perform one Art rightly, than to acquire a\nsuperficial Knowledge of many Things, in other Businesses, which relate\nlittle to the Purpose. [Sidenote: No _Quacks_ or _Undertakers_ in\n_Egypt_.] To prevent these, there were in _Egypt_ no Pretenders to\nPhysic in general, nor any Artists who medl\u2019d with anothers Province,\neach keeping strictly to his own, as _Herodotus_ assures us in his\n_Euterpe_, where he tells us, some only profess\u2019d curing Diseases of the\nHead, others of the Ears; some were Oculists, others Tooth-Drawers; some\nfor particular Diseases in Men, and others for those in Women. In a\nword, there were Physicians for every Disease, but none pretended to\nmore than one. The same thing was observ\u2019d in other Arts, for better\nmaintaining of which, a Law was enacted, that if any Person exercis\u2019d\nmore than one Profession or Trade, he should incur the most grievous of\nPunishments; and King _Amasis_ also made a Law, That such as had no\nProfession or Trade at all, or did not yearly make appear, to the\nGovernors of the Provinces how they lawfully got their Livelihoods,\nshould be punish\u2019d with Death. This Law _Solon_ borrow\u2019d of the\n_Egyptians_, and carry\u2019d to _Athens_, where he had it put in practice:\nIs it not therefore a shame for us, who, no doubt, esteem our selves a\nmuch more polite People than those Heathens were, to suffer a sort of\nMen call\u2019d _Undertakers_, to monopolize the several Trades of _Glovers_,\n_Milliners_, _Drapers_, _Wax-Chandlers_, _Coffin-Makers_,\n_Herald-Painters_, _Surgeons_, _Apothecaries_, and the like.\n[Sidenote: _Art_ can never Flourish where they are.]\nArt can never flourish where \u2019tis assum\u2019d by every ignorant Pretender,\nnor be brought to any perfection, while practis\u2019d by illiterate Persons.\nWe may as well expect one, that has never seen a Campaign, should\nunderstand Military Discipline; or one that has never been at Sea,\nCommand and Steer a Ship rightly, as that an _Upholsterer_, a _Taylor_,\n_Joyner_, or the like _Undertaker_, should be well skill\u2019d in the\nmisterious _Art_ of _Embalming_. These are the present Grievances, as\nwell in Sciences as Trade, and \u2019till such Time as _Quacks_ and\n_Undertakers_, _Hawkers_, _Pedlers_ and _Interlopers_, and all such\nPersons, as were not brought up in the Emploiment they profess, be\nremov\u2019d; we can think no otherwise but that _Art_ must sink, Trade be\nruin\u2019d, and every public Office, as well at Court as in the Country, be\nill serv\u2019d: For whence came every Art and Science, nay all kinds of\nLearning, to flourish so mightily in _Egypt_? And how came it to pass\nthe _Egyptians_ so much excell\u2019d, and perform\u2019d more wonderful Works,\nthan all the World beside, but only by strictly confining every Artist\nto his particular Emploiment, and punishing all that any ways interfer\u2019d\nwith another? But lest we may seem to dwell too long on this Subject,\nwhich we think also more convenient to be discours\u2019d of in another part\nof this Book, we will next proceed to consider, besides their Pharmacy,\nthe extraordinary Skill of the _Egyptians_ in other Branches of\n_Physic_, such as _Anatomy_, _Chymistry_, _Surgery_, &c.\n[Sidenote: _Egyptians_ well skill\u2019d in _Anatomy_.]\nThat the _Egyptians_ must needs understand the natural _Oeconomy_ of the\nBody, appears in that they were the first that employ\u2019d their Industry\nin searching out the inward Nature of Animals by _Anatomy_, and first\nopen\u2019d Human Bodies to discover their respective Diseases. _Olaus\nBorrichius_, _Lib. de \u00c6gypt. Sap._ p. 141. brings many Arguments to\nprove their Knowledge in _Anatomy_; and among them, this out of _Aulus\nGellius_, Lib. 10. c. 10. _Veteres Gr\u00e6cos, annulum habuisse in Digito\nsinistr\u00e6 Manus, qui minimo est proximus: Romanos quoque Homines aiunt\nsic plerumq; Annulis usitatos; Causam esse hujus rei Appion in Libris\n\u00c6gyptiacis hanc dicit; Quod insectis apertisq; Humanis Corporibus, ut\nmos in \u00c6gypto fuit, quas Gr\u00e6ci_ \u1f08\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bc\u1f70\u03c2 _apellant repertum est Nervum\nquendam tenuissimum, ab eo uno Digito, de quo diximus, ad Cor Hominis\npergere ac pervenire: Propterea non inscitum visum esse, eum potissimum\nDigitum tali Honore decorandum, qui continens & quasi connexus esse in\nprincipatu Cordis videretur_. _That the antient_ Greeks _wore a Ring on\nthat Finger of the left Hand, which is next to the little one: And it is\nlikewise said of the_ Romans, _that they for the most part wore their\nRings in the same manner; of which_ Appion, _in his_ Egyptian\n_Treatises, gives this Reason; That the_ Egyptians _in Dissecting, and\nopening Human Bodies, which was a Custom among them, call\u2019d by the_\nGreeks Anatomy, _found a certain slender Nerve, deriv\u2019d from their\nFinger above-mention\u2019d, which crept along \u2019till it inserted it self into\nthe Heart; wherefore they thought convenient that Finger should chiefly\nbe adorn\u2019d with such Honour_. _Macrobius_, as quoted by _Polydor\nVirgil_, _de Rerum Inventione_, p. 140. affirms likewise, _Quod ille\nDigitus annulo ornatur, quia ab eo Nervus quidam ad Cor pertinet_. Also\nin _Saturnius_, Lib. 7. c. 13. _Disarius_, in consulting the _Egyptian_\nBooks of _Anatomy_, says, he found the same. _Orus_ adds, that for this\nReason the _Egyptian_ Priests anointed that Finger with sweet Odours;\nwhich Doctrine however, _Conringius_ says, deserves rather to be laugh\u2019d\nat than confuted; nevertheless, _Borrichius_ thinks there may perhaps be\na more secret consent between that Finger and the Heart, than young\n_Anatomists_ are aware of, therefore endeavours to prove the same, _p._\n143. However, says he, we need not wonder if the _Egyptians_ were\nsometimes in the dark, when at this Day the _Anatomy_ of the _Greeks_ is\nso empty; and surely \u2019twas as easie a matter for the _Greeks_ to have\nadded something more solid, to the _Egyptian Anatomy_, as for us Moderns\nto have so much improv\u2019d it after them. But nothing was invented and\nperfected at the same Time, therefore we must not imagine the _Anatomy_\nof the _Egyptians_ to have been so compleat as ours is now. Yet he that\nshall think the wise _Egyptians_ could be so absurd as to believe the\nHeart Annually increas\u2019d the weight of two Drams, for the space of Fifty\nYears, and afterwards gradually decreas\u2019d for Fifty more, must needs be\nguilty of too great credulity, since none can doubt but that Persons of\nall Ages were open\u2019d by them, in order to _Embalming_, and therefore\nsuch like Follies must of necessity have been refuted by ocular\nInspection and Demonstration. That which _Conringius_ chiefly builds\nupon, is, that all the _Anatomy_ of the _Egyptians_ was only instituted\nfor the use of _Embalming_; yet, which is likewise confuted by _Pliny_,\nLib. 19. c. 5. where speaking of the _Phthiriasis_, he says, The Cure\nthereof was found out in _Egypt_, Kings being accustom\u2019d to Dissect dead\nBodies, for that purpose: The words are plain, _In \u00c6gypto Regibus\nCorpora mortuorum ad scrutandos Morbos insectantibus_. This I look upon\nto be the chief intent of their _Anatomy_, and not the use of\n_Embalming_, since, if we may believe _Diodorus Siculus_, those who were\nthe _Dissectors_ very probably understood no more than what they were\ndirected to perform by the _Priest_ and _Scribe_. The same Author\nassures us it was even a very unthankful Office to perform that; for no\nsooner had they finish\u2019d their Incision, but they were forc\u2019d to run\naway, the By-standers most commonly flinging Stones at them, as\nabhorring to see them exercise such seeming Cruelty on their Friend or\nRelation. Yet this does not disprove their Skill or Practice of\n_Anatomy_ for other Purposes, since, besides the foregoing Arguments, we\nare assur\u2019d they were well acquainted with _Ostiology_; [Sidenote: And\n_Ostiology_.] for _Galen_, Lib. 1. _De admin. Anatom._ advising as well\nocular Inspection as reading good Authors, says, _It is best to be done\nat_ Alexandria, _where Physicians, expose to the sight of their\nAuditors, the Discipline of the Bones_. On the contrary, tho\u2019 the\n_Egyptian Embalmers_ did not rightly understand _Anatomy_, yet is that\n_Art_ nevertheless very requisite to be known, by those who would be\nthoroughly acquainted with the more exquisite Methods of the Moderns;\nfor hereby they may be instructed how to keep the Muscles, make\nSkeletons, and prepare Schemes of the Nerves, Arteries and Veins, as\nlikewise to preserve the Brain, Lungs, Stomach, Bowels, _Uterus_, and\nother curious Preparations, which serve instead of Books or Pictures for\nthe Instruction of young Pupils, and refreshing the Memories of more\nexperienc\u2019d Practicers. In a word, I may justly say, to _Anatomy_ are\nowing those rare Inventions of _Steno_, _Swammerdam_, _Ruysh_,\n_Blanchard_, _Bilsius_ and others, for their new Methods of _Embalming_.\n[Sidenote: _Chymistry_ Invented by _Hermes_.]\nAs _Chymistry_ is said to have had its Rise in _Egypt_, so is it also\ngenerally suppos\u2019d to have been invented by _Hermes_. But that this Art\nwas somewhat different from what we at this Day understand by that\nDenomination, appears from the Etymology of the Word, which the _Greeks_\ncall, \u03c7\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u1f77\u03b1, \u1f21 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u1f00\u03c1\u03b3\u1f7b\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c7\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03c5\u1f75, _al._ \u03c7\u03c5\u03bc\u1f77\u03b1, i. e.\n_Fusio Metallorum_; _pr\u00e6fixo artic. [Sidenote: The _Art_ of making\n_Gold_ and _Silver_.] Arab_, Al, _Alchimy_, _Chymistry_; or, The Art of\nmelting and counterfeiting Metals. _Suidas_ likewise calls _Chymistry_,\nThe preparation or making of _Gold_ and _Silver_. This was the true\n_Philosophers Stone_ which so enrich\u2019d that Kingdom, and brought all\ntheir Arts to a mighty Perfection; and in quest of which, so many\nPersons of all Nations have since fruitlesly consum\u2019d both their Lives\nand Fortunes. Whereas, on the contrary, by this Art the Wealth of the\n_Egyptians_ was increas\u2019d to that immense degree, that they study\u2019d\nmeans how to expend what they had heap\u2019d up. On this occasion _Pliny_,\nLib. 36. c. 12. thus writes: _Dicuntur_, says he, _obiter & Pyramides in\neadem \u00c6gypto, Regum Pecuni\u00e6 otiosa & stulta Ostentatio_. But besides\ntheir _Pyramids_, their _Obelisques_, _Colossus\u2019s_, _Monuments_,\n_Pensile Gardens_ and _Cities_, their _Labyrinth_, Lake _M\u0153ris_, and the\nlike stupendious Works, which cost so many Millions of Talents, are\nsufficient Arguments of their Skill in _Alchymy_, whence they receiv\u2019d\nso vast a supply of Riches. \u2019Tis recorded of _Ptolomy Philadelphus_, he\nspent at one pompous Show at _Alexandria_, and that even when _Egypt_\nwas declining, 2239 Talents, as _Athen\u00e6us_ reckons up, _Deipn._ Lib. 5.\nc. 8. Not to mention their Statues and Temples of entire Gold, or the\nCedar Ship, built by _Sesostris_, which was 280 Cubits in length, the\noutside cover\u2019d with Gold, and the inside with Silver, as _Diodorus_\nasserts. We have a sufficient remarkable instance of their great Riches\nin the Tomb of _Osymanduas_, describ\u2019d by the same Author, about which\nthere was a Circle of Gold 365 Cubits in compass, and one Cubit thick,\nwhich Circle was afterwards carry\u2019d away by _Cambyses_, the _Persian_\nMonarch, when he conquer\u2019d _Egypt_; besides which, as _Marcellinus_,\nLib. 6. reports, he took out of _Thebes_ 300 Talens of Gold, and at\nleast 2300 of Silver. Now, since no Authors mention any Gold Mines in\nthe Time of _Osiris_ or _Hermes_, whence can we imagine they should\nacquire such exceeding great Wealth, but from the _Chymic Art_ of\ntransmuting Metals? Besides the _Egyptian_ Mines, which perhaps were\nafterwards discover\u2019d, could yeild but little Profit, because of the\nvast Expence and Labour they must be at in Digging them. What farther\nseems to confirm their Knowledge in this misterious _Art_, is that, as\n_Suidas_ reports, the Emperor _Dioclesian_ upon his taking _Alexandria_,\nsearch\u2019d with the utmost diligence for all these _Chymical_ Books,\nwritten by the Ancients, and burn\u2019d what he found, both to prevent the\n_Egyptians_ growing thereby Rich and Rebelling against him. It was\nnevertheless thought, the Art of making Gold remain\u2019d for some Time,\namong the _Egyptians_ of the first Rank, at _Colchis_, and that by\n_Jason_\u2019s Golden Fleece, was meant a Book of _Chymistry_ written on\nSheep-skin or Vellum, which he fetch\u2019d from thence. However, at last\nthis _Art_ was lost, and perhaps for these following Reasons: [Sidenote:\nHow the _Egyptians Arts_ came to be lost.] _First_, Because the\n_Egyptian_ Priests, who were Masters of all Sciences, conceal\u2019d their\n_Chymistry_ as much as might be, lest others, excited by their\nHappiness, might envy their Treasure, and consequently hasten their\nRuin. _Secondly_, Because these Priests were so obstinate and resolute,\nthey would rather chuse to suffer the greatest Tortures than discover\ntheir Art. _Thirdly_, In that their _Chymical Books_, &c. being written\nin secret Characters, and consequently understood by few, were laid up\nin Subterranean Vaults, or private Recesses of their Temples, for fear\nof the Incursions of their Enemies, thro\u2019 which means some never came to\nlight. And, _Lastly_, by reason of the hostile Invasions of the\n_Persians_, _Ethiopians_, _Romans_ and others, who ransack\u2019d the Temples\nof _Memphis_, _Thebes_ and _Alexandria_, where these _secret Arts_ were\nkept, burnt that famous Library of _Ptolemy Philadelphus_, which\ncontain\u2019d about 700000 Volumes, and destroy\u2019d in like manner the\n_Serapion_. All this consider\u2019d, we need not wonder if this, as well as\ntheir _Art_ of _Embalming_, be lost. But \u2019tis farther to be noted, as\ntheir _Chymistry_ was very profitable to them in making Gold and Silver,\n[Sidenote: The _Art_ of tinging _Glass_ and making Artificial _Stones_.]\nso in teaching them how to give beautiful Tinctures to Stones and Glass,\nas also Enamel, make Pastes, and the like, was equally curious and\ndelightful. They were wont to make Drinking-Glasses, call\u2019d\n[3]_Allassontes_, which would change colour like a Pidgeons Neck; one of\nwhich, as _Vopiscus_ relates, being presented by an _Alexandrian_ Priest\nto the Emperor _Adrian_, was esteem\u2019d by him as a great Gift and rare\nInvention. They could likewise tinge the _Lapis Obsidianus_ and\n_Cyanos_, with various beautiful Colours, as _Pliny_, _Lib._ 36. _c._\n26. and _Lib._ 37. _c._ 9. relates. Also _Seneca_ _Epist._ XC. tells us\n_Democritus_, by being well acquainted with the _Egyptians_, discover\u2019d\nhow to soften Ivory, and by boiling a Stone, learn\u2019d how to convert it\ninto an Emerald; for those People are said to have made Gems so\nartificially, they imitated the natural both in lustre and hardness.\nMoreover, _Appion Plistonices_ writes, there was to be seen in the\nLabyrinth of _Egypt_ a Colossus of _Serapis_ 9 Cubits high of an entire\nEmerald, which surely must have proceeded from a Chymical Operation,\nsince neither of the _Indies_ have hitherto been able to produce the\nlike Rarity. By all this \u2019tis plain the antient _Egyptians_ knew the\nmore secret and profitable part of _Chymistry_, but whether that\nrelating to Physic was practis\u2019d by them, in the same manner as with us,\nis a Matter of some concern in _Embalming_, but, by reason of the\nscarcity of their Monuments or Books, not so easie to determine. Yet\nthat they were not wholly ignorant thereof, appears by their _\u00c6s ustum_,\n_\u00c6rugo_, _Alumen ustum_, _Diphryges_, _Misy_, _Sory_, _Nitre_, _Sal\nArmoniac_, _Salts_ latent in Ashes, _Calcinations_, and the like\nOperations which require the help of Fire; [Sidenote: The _Art_ of\n_Distilling_, _Calcining_, &c.] as also in that they were acquainted\nwith the _Art_ of _Distilling_, whereby Bodies were made Incorporeal,\nrarify\u2019d into Fumes, and afterwards kept from evaporating by help of\n_Alembics_, _Matrasses_ and _Retorts_ well luted to their Heads and\nReceivers. These Vessels were made of Glass, and some of them with their\nFigures have been describ\u2019d by _Zosimus_, an antient _Chymist_ of\n_Panopolis_, in his Book \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u1f40\u03c1\u03b3\u1f71\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u1f77\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, from whence _Olaus\nBorrichius_ had his Plate in his Book _De Hermetis \u00c6gyptiorum\nsapientia_, p. 156. Now certainly, after all has been said, no Body will\npretend to dispute the use of _Chymical_ Preparations in _Embalming_,\n[Sidenote: _Chymical Medicines_ useful in _Embalming_.] who has heard of\nthe wonderful Effects of the _Spiritus Solomonis_, the _Spiritus\nuniversalis Clauderi_, the _Spiritus Matricalis Blancardi_, the _Sal\nenixum Paracelsi_, _Sal mirabile Glauberi_, _Succinum liquidum\nKerkringij_, the _Arcanum Bilsij_, and other Chymical Spirits, Tinctures\nand Balsams, too many to be enumerated here, therefore I intend to\ndescribe them at large in my _Pharmacop\u0153ia_.\nFootnote 3:\n  \u1f08\u03bb\u03bb\u1f71\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, i. _Variantes, Sc. Calices, quod essent versicolores_.\n[Sidenote: _Surgery_ Invented and Improv\u2019d in _Egypt_.]\n_Surgery_, which was another branch of their _Physic_, was, as\n_Sanchuniathon_ asserts, invented by _\u00c6sculapius_ the _Egyptian_, first\nof that Name, Son of _Jupiter_, and Brother of _Mercury_, who reign\u2019d at\n_Memphis_ according to the report of _Clemens Alexandrinus_. After his\nName several others were so call\u2019d, who, in succeeding Ages, contriv\u2019d\nany new Methods of dressing or binding up Wounds, or added any thing\nelse which was curious to _Surgery_. This _Art_ increas\u2019d much in\n_Egypt_, as _Celsus_ Lib. 7. _Pr\u00e6f._ witnesses; and _Philoxenus_, a very\ngood Author, compos\u2019d many Books thereof. _Egypt_ also was the chief\nplace famous for _Surgery_, insomuch that _Cyrus_ King of the\n_Persians_, when he found no Remedy for a Disease in his Eyes, among his\nown _Physicians_ and _Surgeons_, friendly besought _Amasis_ King of\n_Egypt_, that he would send him an Oculist, whom he accordingly receiv\u2019d\nwith desir\u2019d Success, as _Herodotus_ in his _Thalia_ acquaints us.\nLikewise both the _Greeks_ and _Romans_, in case of necessity, requir\u2019d\nand receiv\u2019d the like Benefit from the _Egyptians_; but that their\n_Surgery_ was so complete as ours is now, none will allow, nevertheless,\nthis must be granted, that they had some Medicaments which we stand in\nneed of; for _Dioscorides_, Lib. 5. c. 158. and _Pliny_, Lib. 36. c. 7.\nmake mention of the _Lapis Memphitis_, which being powder\u2019d and mix\u2019d\nwith Vinegar, they us\u2019d to anoint any part with which they intended to\nBurn or Cut, and it so stupify\u2019d it without any danger, that the Patient\nunderwent the Operation almost without any Pain.\n[Sidenote: How useful in _Embalming_.]\n_Surgery_ therefore being of that antiquity, and so well known by the\n_Egyptians_, \u2019twill be expected I should apply it to our Subject of\n_Embalming_: Wherefore, as was before mention\u2019d, _p._ 177. there being\nseveral Persons employ\u2019d to _Embalm_ a Corps, as they were directed by\nthe _Physician_, so one of those, to wit the _Embalmer_, we take to be\nproperly a _Surgeon_, inasmuch as by understanding the nature of\nFermentation and Putrifaction, both of the Juices and Blood, as also how\nto cure Mortifications in the Living, he might thereby be better enabl\u2019d\nto prevent the like Qualities in the Dead. This he is likewise more\ncapable of, by being well acquainted with Galenical and Chymical\nMedicines, and Anatomical Preparations and Experiments; in which\nMatters, seeing _Physicians_ are generally most knowing, _Santorellus_\nthought it their Property, and consequently wrote a Book on this\nSubject, entitl\u2019d, _Post Praxis Medica_, which shews what a Physician\nhas to do after his Patient is dead, _viz._ To prescribe proper Remedies\nfor _Embalming_ him, as the _Egyptian Priests_ or _Physicians_ were wont\nto direct their Operators to do. So that \u2019tis plain, the true Office of\nthe _Physician_ was to prescribe, the _Apothecaries_ to compound\nMedicines, anoint the Body, _&c._ and the _Surgeons_ to _Embalm_ and\nroul it up; [Sidenote: It teaches the _Art_ of _Bandage_.] an _Art_\nwhich scarce any of our Moderns can equal, and perhaps I may have been\nthe first that has imitated it, as Mr. _Talman_, one of our _Masters_ of\n_Anatomy_, can witness I perform\u2019d on the Body of Sir _Robert Jeffrys_,\nwhom we _Embalm\u2019d_.\n[Sidenote: A _Surgeon_ the proper _Embalmer_.]\nHe therefore whom the _Egyptians_ call\u2019d the _Embalmer_, was strictly\nspeaking the _Surgeon_, for as much as the _curing the Corps_ was to be\nperform\u2019d by a manual Operation, and local application of Medicines, a\nThing which requir\u2019d much care, skill and dexterity, and which, a Person\nthat is not as well acquainted with this, as Balsamic Medicines, can\nnever perform as he ought, or be able to invent any new Method; whereas\n_Frederic Ruysch_, a good _Physician_, a great _Anatomist_ and Reader of\n_Surgery_ at _Amsterdam_, was well skill\u2019d in this _Art_ of _Embalming_,\nas his several Preparations of the Veins, Arteries, _Uterus_, &c.\ntestifie, all which, Doctor _Brown_, President of the College of\nPhysicians _London_, affirms he saw most accurately done at _Ruysch_\u2019s\nHouse at _Amsterdam_, and which he particularly mentions in his Book of\nTravels, _viz._ The Lymphatic Vessels so preserv\u2019d, that their Valves\nwere very perspicuous, and the very minute Vessels of an excarn\u2019d Liver\nclear and shining. He likewise says, he saw the Muscles of Children\ndissected and kept free from Corruption; as also an entire Body\npreserv\u2019d, and the Face of one without the least spot, change of colour,\nor alteration of the Lineaments, from what might be expected after\nDeath, and yet _Ruysch_ had kept them Two Years, and hop\u2019d so to\ncontinue them.\nWe have insisted the longer on _Physic_ and its particular Branches,\nsuch as _Anatomy_, _Chymistry_, _Surgery_, &c. in as much as they not\nonly teach how to prevent and cure Diseases, but likewise to _Embalm_\ndead Bodies. Yet seeing the _Egyptians_ were famous in other Arts and\nSciences, such as _Painting_, _Carving_, _Architecture_, _Astronomy_,\n_Geometry_ and the _Mathematics_, some of which conduc\u2019d very much to\ntheir _Embalmings_, and others to the erecting and compleating their\n_Pyramids_ and _Monuments_; it may not be impertinent to enquire into\nthose Arts, by which _Egypt_ grew into such repute, that it was\ngenerally esteem\u2019d, in respect to its Magnificence, [Sidenote: _Egypt\nMistress_ of the _World_, and _Mother_ of all _Arts_ and _Sciences_.]\n_The Mistress of the World_; to its Fertility, _The Magazine or\nStore-House of the World_; and to its Antiquity, _The Origin, or Mother\nof all Arts and Sciences_. This Digression I hope will be the more\npardonable, in that it will be somewhat diverting to the _Lovers_ of\n_Art_, and also help to give a true Notion of the several Ceremonies and\ngreat Expences us\u2019d about their _Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies. [Sidenote:\n_Egyptians_ their _Antiquity_.] We will first therefore begin with their\n_Antiquity_, for from thence we may expect the first Progress or\nInvention, tho\u2019 perhaps not the Perfection of _Arts_; in which point the\n_Egyptians_ would make us believe, the first Men were form\u2019d in their\nCountry, and give so great a number of their Kings, and so long a\nduration of their Reigns, as to deduce their Origin some Thousands of\nYears before the Creation of the World; asserting also that they were\ngovern\u2019d by the Gods about 25000 Years, before their Kingdom fell into\nthe Hands of Men: But however questionable this Tradition may be, yet is\nit not to be doubted but the _Egyptians_ were of very great _Antiquity_,\nand perhaps the antientest People of the World, from whom _Laws_,\n_Arts_, _Sciences_ and _Ceremonies_ were first deriv\u2019d to other\nCountries. [Sidenote: Their _Inventions_.] Now the Inventions commonly\nattributed to them are, _Geometry_, _Arithmetic_, _Music_, _Astrology_,\n_Physic_, _Necromancy_ or _Sorcery_, _Carving_, _Painting_, _Enameling_,\n_Fluxing_ of _Metals_ and _Stones_, curious Works in _Glass_, and making\nof fine _Linnen_, _Mathematical Machines_ and _Automata_, _Pneumatic_\nand _Hydraulic_ Engines, and various other _Mechanical Curiosities_; in\na word, all kinds of _Learning_ and _Ingenuity_, but more particularly\nthey were the first Inventors of the _Art_ of _Embalming_. Some of these\nwe have already mention\u2019d, therefore shall only speak of those not\nhitherto treated of. _First_ then, The _Thebans_ boast they were the\nmost antient _Philosophers_ and _Astrologers_, [Sidenote: _Astrology._]\nas having found out the first Rules for the Improvement of those\n_Sciences_, since they most accurately observ\u2019d the Courses of the Sun,\nMoon and Stars, their Eclipses, Constellations, Risings, Aspects and\nInfluences, dividing thereby their Years into Months, and grounding\ntheir Divinations on their hidden Properties; yet did they so manage\ntheir Prognostications, that they could certainly foretel every\nparticular Event.\n[Sidenote: _Mathematics._]\nIn the _Mathematics_ and _Mechanical Powers_ the _Egyptians_ were\nparticularly famous, for they had Engines whereby they could raise their\n_Obelisques_, and hoist up vast Stones to so incredible and prodigious a\nheight as their _Pyramids_ are. They also devis\u2019d other wonderful\nMachines for divers purposes, as some for dreining Marshes, others for\nwatering Gardens, of which _Diodorus Siculus_ says, In the pensile\nGarden of _Semiramis_ there was an Engine, that, thro\u2019 certain Conduits\nor Conveyances from the Platform of the Garden, drew a great quantity of\nWater out of the River, yet no Body was the wiser or knew how it was\ndone. A third sort of Machines they had for destroying and confounding\ntheir Enemy, with which last they had once almost reduc\u2019d _Julius C\u00e6sar_\nto extream despair, when he invested _Alexandria_ with his whole Army;\nfor as _Aulus Hirtius_, Writer of that War, relates, _Ganymedes_ with\nWheels and other Machines of great force, pump\u2019d the Water out of the\nSea, and threw it from high Places, with that great force and violence\non _C\u00e6sar_\u2019s Men, that they thought of raising the Seige. He farther\nadds, That by those means he also made all their Water so salt they\ncould not drink it. But besides these they had a sort of Water-Works for\npleasure, as their _Organa Hydraulica_ or Water-Organs, and others for\nmeasuring Time, as the _Clepsydra_ or Water-Hour-Glass. They had\nlikewise other Machines which mov\u2019d with the Air or Wind, and some\n_Automata_ that went by invisible Springs; for, as _C\u00e6lius Rhodiginus_\nrelates, the _Egyptians_ made some Statues of their Gods both to walk of\nthemselves, and also to utter certain Words articulately. As to their\nMotion, that may be ascrib\u2019d to some Wheels and Springs within, and\ntheir Voice or Speech, to some Air forc\u2019d up thro\u2019 Pipes plac\u2019d in their\nHeads and Mouths. _Kircher_ in _Tom._ 2. _Oed. \u00c6gyptiac._ gives many\nExamples of _Pneumatical_ Engines, among the _Egyptians_, in their\nTemples. Yet is there none so remarkable as the Statue of _Memnon_,\nwhich was made by the _Theban_ Priests with that Art and Contrivance,\nthat in the Morning, on the rising of the Sun, and the striking of its\nBeams upon it, it utter\u2019d a kind of Music. This was so famous a piece of\nWork, that Men travell\u2019d from far to see it. _Lucian_ the _Sophister_\nwent to view that Miracle, as he terms it, and as he tells us in his\n_Philopseudes_. The same did the Emperor _Severus_, as _Spartianus_\ninforms us, and _Germanicus_, as _Tacitus_, and _Strabo_, that judicious\n_Geographer_, went to see it; the like did _Apollonius Tyan\u00e6us_, as\n_Philostratus_ writes, which Matter need not seem fabulous, says\n_Natalis Comes_, to any that shall understand the Power of Art and Human\nWit, nor how expert the _Theban_ Priests were in all _Mathematical\nSciences_. But I need say no more in particular of their Art of\nBuilding, Carving or Painting, [Sidenote: Their wonderful _Works_ in\n_Architecture_.] since those will appear much more conspicuous by a\nRelation of such stupendious and beautiful Works as were the City of\n_Thebes_, together with its stately Sepulchres, Obelisks and Temples,\nall built by them. The Sepulchre of King _Osymandua_, the Cities of\n_Memphis_, _Cairo_, _Babylon_ and _Alexandria_, the Tower of _Pharos_,\nthe long Wall built by _Sesostris_, the _Labyrinth_, their _Pyramids_,\n_Obelisks_, _Columns_, _Colossus\u2019s_, _Statues_, _Sphinx\u2019s_, _Monuments_,\n_Subterranean Vaults_ and _Lamps_, and other like admirable Works,\ntestifie their extraordinary Skill and Ingenuity in all kinds of Arts to\nbe such, as neither the _Greeks_, _Romans_, nor any other Nation were\nafterwards capable of. But that you may not, Sir, be put off with a bare\nenumeration of them, I will give such a particular account of them, as\nwill, I dare say, not only surprise and divert the Reader, but also lead\nhim into every minute Circumstance of their _Embalming_.\n[Sidenote: _Thebes._]\n_First_ then of _Thebes_, a very rich and glorious City, once the Regal\nMetropolis of all _Egypt_, and built by _Busyris_, who resided in it. It\nwas call\u2019d by the _Egyptians_ _Heliopolis_, or the City of the _Sun_,\nand by _Strabo_, _Diospolis_, or _Jupiter_\u2019s City, by reason he was\nthere worshipp\u2019d. It was in circuit about 140 Furlongs, or 17 Miles and\nan half, and was adorn\u2019d with so many stately Monuments both of Gold,\nSilver and Ivory, such multitudes of Colossus\u2019s and Obelisks, cut out of\nentire Stone, such exceeding splendid Temples, Palaces and Tombs of the\nold _Egyptian Pharaohs_, and other such like Ornaments and stupendious\nRarities, that it was not only look\u2019d upon to be the most beautiful and\nstately City of _Egypt_, but of all others in the World; for it is\nrecorded, that not only King _Busyris_, but all his Successors also from\nTime to Time beautify\u2019d and adorn\u2019d it, and \u2019tis certain it had in it\n20000 Chariots of War, and that there were 100 Stables all along the\nRiver, from _Memphis_ to _Thebes_, towards _Libya_, each of which was\ncapable of containing 200 Horses. _Pomponius Mela_ says, _Thebes_ was so\nexceeding Populous, it could draw out of every Gate 10000 armed Men, and\nthat the _Greek_ Word _Hecatompolis_, which as some think signifies an\nhundred Gates, according to which, _Thebes_ was so call\u2019d by _Homer_, is\nnot to be understood literally, but rather to be explain\u2019d to relate to\nan hundred Palaces, in which so many Princes had their Residence.\n_Pliny_, Lib. 36. c 14. will have the whole City to have stood upon\nArches, so made on purpose, that the _Egyptian_ Kings might march their\nArmies this way and that way under the Houses, without being discover\u2019d.\nIn this City were also four Temples, very wonderful for their beauty and\nlargeness, of which, the most antient was 13 Furlongs, or above a Mile\nand half in circuit, and 45 Cubits high, and had a Wall 24 Foot thick.\nThe Ornaments of this Temple were suitably magnificent both for Cost and\nWorkmanship, and the Fabric continu\u2019d \u2019till _Diodorus Siculus_\u2019s Time,\nbut the Silver, Gold, and other Ornaments of Ivory and precious Stones,\nwere carry\u2019d away by the _Persians_ at such Time as _Cambyses_ burn\u2019d\nthe Temples of _Egypt_. \u2018Here, says _Diodorus Siculus_, Lib. 1. cap. 4.\nwere the wonderful Sepulchres of the antient Kings of _Egypt_, which for\nState and Grandeur far exceeded all that Posterity could attain to even\nto this Day. The _Egyptian_ Priests say, That in their Sacred Records\nthere were register\u2019d 47 of these Sepulchres, yet which is not only\nreported by the _Egyptians_, but by many of the _Grecians_ likewise, who\ntravel\u2019d to _Thebes_ in the Time of _Ptolemeus Lagus_, and wrote\nHistories of _Egypt_. Among these, one was _Hecat\u00e6us_, who agrees with\nwhat _Diodorus_ relates, _viz._ That when he was there, which was in the\n180th _Olympiad_, there remain\u2019d only 17 of these Sepulchres. [Sidenote:\n_Osymandua_\u2019s Tomb.] Of the first of these, that of King _Osymandua_ was\n10 Furlongs in compass, and at the entrance, they say, there was a\nPortico of vari-colour\u2019d Marble, 45 Cubits in height and 200 Feet long.\nThence going forward, you came into a four square Stone-Gallery, every\nSquare being 400 Feet, supported by Beasts instead of Pillars, each of\nwhich was of an entire Stone, 16 Cubits high, and Carv\u2019d after the\nantique manner. The Roof was also entirely of Stone, each Stone being 8\nCubits broad, with an azure Sky all bespangl\u2019d with Stars. Passing out\nof this, you enter\u2019d another Portico like the former, but more curiously\ncarv\u2019d, and adorn\u2019d with greater variety. At the entrance stood 3\nStatues, each of one entire Stone, being the Workmanship of _Memnon_ of\n_Scienitas_. One of these was sitting, whose Foot measur\u2019d 7 Cubits, and\nin the whole magnitude, exceeded all other Statues in _Egypt_. The other\ntwo were much less, reaching but to the Knee, the one standing on the\nright Hand, and the other on the left, being the Mother and Daughter.\nThis Piece is not only commendable for its greatness, but likewise\nadmirable for its Workmanship, and the excellency of the Stone, that in\nso great a Work there was not to be discern\u2019d the least flaw or blemish.\nUpon the Tomb there was this Inscription:\n  \u2018_I am_ Osymandua, _King of Kings; if any would know how Great I am,\n  and where I lye, let him excel me in any of my Works_.\n\u2018There was likewise at the second Gate another Statue, of the Mother by\nher self, of one Stone, 20 Cubits high; upon her Head were plac\u2019d Three\nCrowns, to denote she was both Daughter, Wife and Mother of a King. Near\nthis Portico, they say, there was another Gallery, more remarkable than\nthe former, in which were various Sculptures representing his Wars with\nthe _Bactrians_, who had revolted from him, against whom, \u2019tis said, he\nmarch\u2019d with 400000 Foot and 20000 Horse, which Army he divided into\nfour Bodies, and appointed his Sons Generals of the whole.\n\u2018In the first Wall might be seen the King assaulting a Bulwark environ\u2019d\nwith the River, and fighting at the head of his Men, against some that\nmade up against him, assisted by a Lion in a terrible posture; which\nsome affirm must be understood to be a real Lion that the King bred up\ntame, went along with him in all his Wars, and by his great strength\never put the Enemy to flight. Others make this Construction, that the\nKing being a Prince of extraordinary Courage and Strength, he was\nwilling to set forth his own Praises and bravery of Spirit, by the\nrepresentation of a Lion. In the second Wall were carv\u2019d the Captives\ndragg\u2019d after the King, represented without Hands and Privy Members, to\nsignifie that they were effeminate Spirits, and had no Hands when they\ncame to fight. The third Wall represented all sorts of Sculptures and\ncurious Images, in which were set forth the King\u2019s Sacrificing of Oxen,\nand his Triumphs in that War. In the middle of the _Perystilion_ or\nPortico, open to the Air at top, was rear\u2019d an Altar of polish\u2019d Marble,\nbeing of excellent Workmanship, and equally to be admir\u2019d for its\nMagnitude. In the last Wall were two Statues, each of entire Stone, 27\nCubits high, near which three Passages open\u2019d out of the Portico into a\nstately Room, supported by Pillars, like a Theatre for Music. Every side\nof the Theatre was 200 Feet square. Here were many Statues of Wood,\nrepresenting Pleaders and Spectators looking upon the Judges. Those\nwhich were carv\u2019d on one of the Walls were 30 in number, and in the\nmiddle sat the Chief Justice, with the Image of Truth hanging about his\nNeck, his Eyes clos\u2019d, and many Books lying before him. This signify\u2019d\nthat a Judge ought not to take any Bribes, but only to regard the Truth\nand Merits of the Cause. Next adjoyning was a Gallery full of diverse\nApartments, in which were all sorts of delicate Meats ready serv\u2019d up.\nNear this was represented the King himself, curiously carv\u2019d and painted\nin glorious Colours, offering as much Gold and Silver to the Gods as he\nyearly receiv\u2019d out of his Mines. The Sum was there inscrib\u2019d (according\nto the rate of Silver) to amount unto 32 Millions of [4]_Mina\u2019s_, which\nis about 100 Millions of Pounds Sterling. Next was the Sacred Library,\non which were inscrib\u2019d these words, _The Cure of the Mind_. Adjoyning\nto this were the Images of all the Gods in _Egypt_, to every one of\nwhich the King was making Offerings, peculiarly belonging to each of\nthem, that _Osiris_ and all his Associates, who were plac\u2019d at his Feet,\nmight understand his Piety towards the Gods, and his Righteousness\ntowards Men. Next to the Library was a stately Room, wherein were 20\nBeds to set upon, richly adorn\u2019d, in which were the Images of _Jupiter_\nand _Juno_ together with the Kings, and here it\u2019s suppos\u2019d the King\u2019s\nBody lay interr\u2019d. Round the Room are many Apartments, wherein are to be\nseen all the Beasts that are accounted Sacred in _Egypt_, very curiously\npainted. Thence you ascend to the top of the Monument or Sepulchre,\nwhich having mounted, there appears a Border of Gold round the Tomb of\n365 Cubits in compass, and one in thickness; within the division of\nevery Cubit were the several Days of the Year ingraven, with the natural\nRisings and Settings of the Stars, and their Significations, according\nto the Observations of the _Egyptian_ Astrologers. In this manner they\ndescribe the Sepulchre of King _Osymandua_, which seems far to exceed\nall others both for Magnificence and curiosity of Workmanship.\u2019 Now he\nwho shall seriously consider this, as also several other Passages in\n_Herodotus_ and _Diodorus Siculus_ of the stupendious Works of the\n_Egyptians_, says _Greaves_ in his _Pyramidographia_, p. 9. must needs\nacknowledge, that for Magnificence, if not for Art, they far exceeded\nthe _Grecians_ and _Romans_, even when their Empires were at the highest\npitch and most flourishing: Wherefore those _Admiranda Rom\u00e6_, collected\nby _Justus Lipsius_, are hardly admirable, if compar\u2019d with some of\nthese. At this Day there is scarce any great Column or Obelisk remaining\nin _Rome_ worthy of Note, which has not antiently been brought hither\nout of _Egypt_.\nFootnote 4:\n  Every _Mina_ is about 3_l._ 2_s._ 6_d._\n_Thebes_ sunk and fell to decay, upon removing the Court to _Memphis_,\n[Sidenote: _Memphis._] a great and eminent City, built by _Uchoreus_, as\n_Diodorus Siculus_, Lib. 1. relates, but _Sandys_ says \u2019twas built by\n_Ogdoo_, and call\u2019d _Memphis_ after the Name of his Daughter,\ncompress\u2019d, as they feign, by _Nilus_ in the likeness of a Bull.\nHereupon this became the Regal City, and Strength and Glory of all\n_Egypt_, being exceeding Populous, and adorn\u2019d with a world of\nAntiquities. It was particularly famous for the Temple of _Apis_, the\nSubterranean Vaults or Burying-Places, and the Pyramids or stately\nSepulchres of the Kings, erected within a few Miles of it.\n[Illustration:\n  M: V^{dr} Gucht Sculp:\n  To the Honourable James Saunderson Esq\ua76b, who has been pleas\u2019d to\n    encourage this Work, this Plate is humbly dedicated by his most\n    humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\nThe God most esteem\u2019d by the _Egyptians_, and ador\u2019d at _Memphis_,\n[Sidenote: The God _Apis_.] was _Apis_, a coal-black Ox, with a white\nMark on his Forehead, the figure of an Eagle on his Back, and having\nHair on his Tail of two kinds. When this God happen\u2019d to die, none\nvalu\u2019d their Hair, tho\u2019, as _Lucian_ says, they had as good as _Nisus_,\nbut shav\u2019d it all off in token of their Grief. Also _Diodorus Siculus_,\nLib. 1. cap. 6. says, They were then as much concern\u2019d, as at the Death\nof their own Children, and laid out in the Burial of this God, as much,\nif not more than all their Goods were worth; for when _Apis_ thro\u2019 old\nAge dy\u2019d at _Memphis_, in the Reign of _Ptolomeus Lagus_, his Keeper not\nonly spent all the Provision he had heap\u2019d up, in burying him, but also\nborrow\u2019d of _Ptolomy_ 50 Talents of Silver for the same purpose. Nay\neven in our Time, says the same Author, some of the Keepers of these\nSacred Creatures, have lavish\u2019d away no less than 100 Talents, in\nmaintaining them whilst alive. After the pompous Funeral of _Apis_ was\nover, those Priests that had the charge of the Matter, sought out\nanother Calf, which they substituted in its stead, with the same Marks\nas the former; and this pass\u2019d for a great Miracle among them, but\ncertainly it was not difficult for evil Spirits, who might take pleasure\nin deceiving these People, to represent to a Cow, when she went to Bull,\nan Ox with those Marks, as _Jacob_ made the Goats and Sheep of the same\ncolours, by placing speckl\u2019d Rods before the Eyes of the Dams at the\nTime of their Coition. Thus, having found an Ox to their Mind, an end\nwas immediately put to all further Mourning and Lamentation, and the\nyoung God was led by the Priests thro\u2019 the City of _Nilopolis_, fed 40\nDays, and afterwards put into a Barge, in a golden Cabbin, transported\nto _Memphis_, and plac\u2019d in _Vulcan_\u2019s Grove. For the Adoration of this\nOx, they give this Reason, _viz._ That the Soul of _Osiris_ pass\u2019d into\nthe Ox _Apis_, and consequently into all the rest that were successively\nsubstituted in his stead: [Sidenote: Sepulchre of _Osiris_.] But some\nsay, the Members of _Osiris_, kill\u2019d by _Typhon_, were thrown by _Isis_\ninto an Ox made of Wood, and cover\u2019d with Ox-Hides (from whence the City\nof _Busiris_ took its Name;) and this, as it is reported, she did,\nbecause, as she was in search of her Husband, a very handsome Bull\nappear\u2019d to her, which she believ\u2019d to be him, and whom she afterwards\ncaus\u2019d to be Honour\u2019d in _Egypt_, under the Figure of that Animal. Many\nother Things are fabulously reported of _Apis_, which would be too\ntedious to relate in particular; therefore I need only consider whether\nthe Adoration and Worship of that Creature, came first in use from being\nthe Sepulchre of _Osiris_, [Sidenote: Of _Mycerinus_\u2019s Daughter.] or\nfrom the Account _Herodotus_ in his _Euterpe_ gives of the Daughter of\n_Mycerinus_, bury\u2019d in like manner, which we shall here relate, _viz._\nThat one of the _Egyptian_ Kings, _Mycerinus_ by Name, seeing himself\ndepriv\u2019d of Heirs by the Death of his Daughter and only Child, spar\u2019d\nnothing whereby he might express how sensibly he was touch\u2019d with this\nLoss, and consequently indeavour\u2019d to immortalize her Memory, by the\nmost superb and sumptuous Structure he could possibly devise. Instead\ntherefore of a Monument he order\u2019d a Palace to be erected for her, with\na great Hall in the midst of it, adorn\u2019d with abundance of Figures and\nStatues, all glittering with precious Stones. After this, he caus\u2019d her\nCorps to be deposited in a Coffin of incorruptible Wood, fashion\u2019d after\nthe likeness of an Ox, which was cover\u2019d all over with Plates of Gold,\nand had a purple Mantle cast over it. The Figure of this Ox was\nkneeling, having a Sun of Massy Gold between his Horns, and being\nenlightn\u2019d by a Lamp hanging before him, whose Flames were fed with a\nmost odoriferous Oil. Round about the Hall stood Perfuming-Pans and\nCensers, which continually threw up clouds of sweet Scents and Perfumes.\nIn another Parlour adjoyning to this, stood about 20 great Images,\npartly naked and carv\u2019d in Wood, which as the Priests report were the\nConcubines of _Mycerinus_. But some there are who speak otherwise of\nthis Ox and those Figures, _viz._ That _Mycerinus_ falling in Love with\nhis Daughter ravish\u2019d her, who thereupon hanging herself for Grief, her\nFather bury\u2019d her in this Ox, and the Servants who betray\u2019d the\nDaughter, and slew the Mother, were represented by these Images, as\nhaving been accessary to such Wickedness. This Sepulchral Story, _Porus_\nhas very well delineated in _Porcachius_, after the manner you\u2019ll find\nrepresented in this first Plate. But to return to the City _Memphis_,\nsaid to have been in circuit about 20 Miles; _Greaves_ tells us, there\nis not now so much as the Ruines of any such Place to be seen, altho\u2019\nMonsieur _Thevenot_ affirms, those pretty near the _Mummies_, enclining\ntowards the _Nile_, are doubtless the Ruines of that City, whose\nInhabitants, even at this Day, in imitation of their Ancestors, bury\ntheir Dead without the Gates, and consequently make use of the Plain for\na Burying-Place. Yet _Sandys_ avers, \u2019tis not likely they should carry\ntheir Dead so far, when they have as convenient a place belonging to\ntheir City, and this is also agreeable to what some of the Ancients\nwrite, _viz._ [Sidenote: _Subterranean Caves._] That on these\nSubterranean Caves the City _Memphis_, and several other Places\nthereabouts were built, as on so many Vaults or Arches. Without doubt\nthey bury\u2019d in both places, tho\u2019 cheifly in the Plains of _Egypt_ and\n_Libya_, where, in Caves and Grots under Ground, are said to be about 40\nSepulchres of their Kings. In these they were very curious, sparing no\ncost, but roofing them over like so many great Halls, and dividing them\ninto several Apartments, with Passages out of one into the other,\nalotting also to each Family or Person, one suitable to his Quality and\nExpense he had been at in making them. These were like those _Hypogea_\nof the _Greeks_, or _Crypt\u00e6_ of the _Romans_, p. 95, 96. and are thus\ndescrib\u2019d by _Sandys_, p. 103. Not far above _Memphis_, near the brow of\nthe _Libyan_ Desarts, and straitning of the Mountains, are the\nSepulchres or Graves of the antient _Egyptians_, who have been there\nfrom the first inhabiting that Country, and who coveted that place of\nBurial, as suppos\u2019d to contain the Body of _Osiris_. When discover\u2019d,\nthey are to be seen after this manner: By the removal of a certain\nsquare Stone (which is very close fitted, and cover\u2019d over with Sand for\nprivacy sake) a descent appears like the narrow mouth of a Well, with\nholes on each side of the Wall to descend by, yet which are so\ntroublesome, that many, says _Sandys_, who go thither on purpose to see\nthem, refuse to go down into them. Some of these are near 10 Fathom\ndeep, leading into long Vaults, hewn out of Rocks, with Pillars of the\nsame, and which seem to have belong\u2019d to particular Families: Under\nevery Arch lye the Bodies that have been _Embalm\u2019d_, &c. Here also are\nseveral Pyramids and Obelisks to be seen, adorn\u2019d with _Hieroglyphical_\nInscriptions, which set forth the Riches and Power of those Kings; but\nthese we shall more particularly treat of in another place, and\ntherefore here only represent to you the _Ichnography_ and\n_Schenography_ of the antient Burial-Places of the _Egyptians_, near the\n_Pyramids_, out of which the _Mummies_ are brought, with a Prospect of\n_Memphis_, _Babylon_, _Cairo_, &c. The Scituation and Disposition of\nthese, I presume, will appear very plainly describ\u2019d in this second\nPlate, taken out of _Johannes Nardius_, at the end of his _Lucretius_,\nwith the Mistakes amended.\n[Illustration:\n  J. Kip Sculp.\n  To Nathaniel Long Esq_{\ua76b} who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work,\n    this Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\n  A. The Ruines of the antient City of _Memphis_.\n  B. The City of _Babylon_, now _Grand Cairo_.\n  C. The River _Nile_ flowing from _South_ to _North_.\n  D. A carv\u2019d Stone the Cover of the Well.\n  E. The Well or Passage thro\u2019 which they descended into the arch\u2019d\n  Chamber.\n  F. A Stone-Coffin carv\u2019d with _Hieroglyphicks_, containing another\n  of Wood mark\u2019d G. which that it may be the better seen, is shown in\n  another place, having an Image standing thereon, and some Tutelar\n  Gods. At the Well or Passage E. a Servant holding by a Rope,\n  descends with his Master upon his Shoulders, whom having set down at\n  the bottom of the Well, he creeps upon his Belly through a Foramen\n  at H. and then enters into a magnificent arch\u2019d Chamber, in the\n  middle of which is plac\u2019d a Marble-Tomb, F. having a _Mummy_ in it.\n  Out of this, many Passages lead into other Chambers, which are so\n  numerous and intricate, the way out is almost as difficult to find,\n  as that of a Labyrinth.\nFrom _Memphis_, the Court of the _Egyptian_ Kings is said to have\nremov\u2019d to _Alexandria_, and afterwards to _Cairo_; [Sidenote:\n_Babylon._] but in respect that _Babylon_, now _Cairo_, lies opposite to\n_Memphis_, as is seen at Letter B, and this second Plate thereby better\ndescrib\u2019d, I will begin with that first. This, in opposition to the\ngreat City of _Babylon_ in _Chald\u00e6a_, built by _Semiramis_, was also for\ndistinction sake call\u2019d the _Egyptian Babylon_: It is said to have been\nfounded by _Cambyses_ the _Persian_ Monarch, the first that made this\nKingdom stoop to the Yoke of a Foreign Power, and was by him peopled\nwith some _Babylonians_ or _Chald\u00e6ans_ transplanted thither. It stood at\nsome distance towards the _South_ of _Cairo_, where now appear nothing\nhardly but great Mountains of Ruines, among which many of the Christian\nTemples and Monasteries lye in rubbish. The Castle hereof serv\u2019d long\nafter for a Garrison of three Legions, appointed to defend this Country\nin the Time of the _Romans_. Adjoyning to this Castle are Store-Houses,\n[Sidenote: _Granaries_ of _Joseph_.] suppos\u2019d to be of the Granaries of\n_Joseph_, which, as they say, he built, and therein laid up Corn against\nthe ensuing Famine. In all they were seven, but now three only are\nstanding, which are also employ\u2019d to the same use: From hence, for the\nspace of 20 Miles up the River, there are nothing but Ruines.\n[Sidenote: Old _Cairo_.]\nFrom the Ruines of this City, _Babylon_, Old _Cairo_ was rais\u2019d, being\nheretofore a most stately City, but now in a manner desolate, having\nbeen alter\u2019d several Times, as the Conquerors or Lords of the Country\nthought fit. At length a more convenient and pleasant place of Abode was\npitch\u2019d upon, when about half a League off the Old, [Sidenote: New\n_Cairo_.] they built New _Cairo_, which for a long Time has been, and at\npresent is, the chief City or _Metropolis_ of all _Egypt_. The\n_Italians_ call it _Alcairo_, and others, by way of Excellency, _Grand\nCairo_. It is scituate on the _East_ side of _Nile_, in a very pleasant\nPlain, at the foot of the rocky Mountain _Muccat_, winding therewith,\nand representing the form of a Crescent. It stretches, says _Sandys_, p.\n92. _South_ and _North_, with the adjoyning Suburbs, five _Italian_\nMiles, and is in breadth scarce one and a half where it is broadest; but\nas to the bigness or circumference of this City, Authors differ very\nmuch, because some will have it consist of four Parts, _viz._ Old\n_Cairo_, New _Cairo_, _Boulac_ and _Charafat_, which, if we compare with\n_London_, the City of _Westminster_ and Borough of _Southwark_, we shall\nfind it at least three times bigger. For it is said, the parts of\n_Cairo_, together with its Suburbs, are 10 or 12 Leagues in length, 7 or\n8 in breadth, and 25 or 30 in circuit, and yet is this City so exceeding\nPopulous, that the People pass to and fro in throngs, altho\u2019 the Women,\naccording to the Custom of that Country, seldom or never appear abroad.\nOnce in seven Years \u2019tis visited with a terrible Pestilence, insomuch\nthat 1000 or 1500 have dy\u2019d in a Day, nevertheless, if not above 300000\ndie within the Year, the City is reckon\u2019d to be in good Health, and\nthere is hardly any miss of the Deceas\u2019d. There are said to be in it\n18000 Streets, 23000 Mosques, and 200000 Houses, besides several\nMarkets, Exchanges, Hospitals, and other magnificent Structures. Every\nStreet is known by its Name, and fortify\u2019d with a great Gate at each\nend, which at Night, to prevent Tumults and Uproars, are lock\u2019d up with\nwooden Locks, and open\u2019d with a Key of the same; for here all the Locks\nand Keys, even of the City Gates themselves, which are plated with Iron,\nare made only of Wood. The number of Men, which every Night guard this\nCity, is 28000. There is a _Canal_ or _Khalis_, as they call it, which\nruns the whole length of the City, and conveys thro\u2019 it Water from the\n_Nile_. At the _South_ end it is fortify\u2019d with a stately Castle (the\nPalace of the _Mamaluke Sultans_) scituate on the top of a Mountain,\noverlooking the City and a great part of the Country. It is so large it\nseems a City of it self, environ\u2019d with high Walls, divided into\nPartitions, and enter\u2019d by Doors of Iron, and has within it spacious\nCourts, which in Time past were the places of Exercise. Now the Ruines\nof those antient Buildings only show how sumptuous they have formerly\nbeen, for there are Pillars of solid Marble yet standing, of so immense\na Magnitude, that how they came thither is not the least to be wonder\u2019d\nat. \u2019Tis not therefore without reason that this City was nam\u2019d _Grand\nCairo_, which is reported in great measure to be encompass\u2019d with a\nWall, and in which, says _Thevenot_, there are so many curious Things to\nbe seen, that a very large Book might be fill\u2019d with the relation of\nthem. Among some of the extraordinary Things to be seen at _Cairo_,\n[Sidenote: The _Hatching_ of _Chickens_.] is the artificial way of\nHatching Chickens, upon which the aforesaid Author well observes, it\nmight be thought a Fable to relate that Chickens are to be hatch\u2019d\nwithout Hens sitting upon the Eggs, and yet a greater to say, that\nChickens are sold by the Bushel, nevertheless they are both true. To\neffect this, they put their Eggs into Ovens, and heat them with a\ntemperate warmth, which imitates so well the natural heat, that Chickens\nare form\u2019d and hatch\u2019d in them; but for the particular manner of this, I\nmust refer you to _Thevenot_ in his Travels, _p._ 144. where it is to be\nfound more plainly describ\u2019d. To _Cairo_ are brought, over Land by the\n_Caravan_ from _Mecca_, all sorts of Perfumes, Aromatics, precious\nStones and Gums, [Sidenote: _Drugs_ brought by the _Caravan_.] such as\n_Olibanum_, _Frankinsence_, _Mastic_, _Myrrh_, _Amber_ and\n_Opobalsamum_, also _Indian_ Stuffs, _Indico_, and other rich and\nvaluable Commodities. The _Caravan_ consists of many Thousands of\nPilgrims, that Travel yearly to _Mecca_, out of Devotion and for\nTraffic. That City is distant from _Cairo_ 40 easie Days Journey,\nseparated by a Wilderness of Sand, that lies in drifts, and is often\ndangerous to the Traveller, when mov\u2019d by the Wind, thro\u2019 which he is\nguided in many places by the Stars only, as Ships are in the Ocean. The\nwhole _Caravan_ has above 1000 Horses, Mules and Asses, and 500 Camels.\nThese are the Ships of _Arabia_, and their Seas are the Desarts. The\nCity of _Mecca_, Capital of _Arabia F\u00e6lix_, lying near the _Red Sea_, is\na Place of great Traffic, not only by reason of the _Indian Caravans_,\nthat repair thither yearly with their Commodities, but also of the\nCountry adjoyning, whose precious Productions have procur\u2019d it the Name\nof _Happy_. From hence they go to _Medina Talnabi_, or the _City_ of the\n_Prophet_, where in a little Chappel, lighted by 3000 Lamps that burn\nthere perpetually, lye _Mahomet_, _Omer_ and _Haly_, in plain Tombs of\nthe antique Fashion, cut out like Lozenges. That of _Mahomet_ (not\nhanging in the Air as is reported) is cover\u2019d with green, having on the\nside a Carbuncle as big as an Egg, which yields a marvellous Lustre.\nThese meet again the rest of the _Caravan_ at the place appointed, as\n_Sandys_, p. 97. tells us, who gives the foregoing Account.\n[Illustration:\n  The Balsam Plant\n  Tho. Platt. sculp.\n  To M^r. James Petiver Apothecary, F.R.S. who has been pleas\u2019d to\n    encourage this Work, this Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\nFive Miles _North-East_ of the City _Cairo_, lyes a Village call\u2019d _El\nMatharia_, [Sidenote: _Matarea._] where, in a Garden, is preserv\u2019d the\n_Balsam Plant_ as a great Rarity: [Sidenote: The _Balsam Plant_.] Some\nfalsly attribute the natural Production of it to this Country, and some\nto other Places, tho\u2019, truly speaking, \u2019tis brought from _Mecca_ in\n_Arabia F\u00e6lix_, beyond the _Red Sea_, by the _Turkish_ Pilgrims when\nthey go to visit _Mahomet_\u2019s Tomb, and so has been cultivated in several\nPlaces, and renew\u2019d by the same means whenever it dy\u2019d. Thus the _Balsam\nPlant_ grew and prosper\u2019d in _Jud\u00e6a_, as is attested by _Theophrastus_,\n_Pliny_, _Justin_, and many more; nay by _Galen_ also, who purposely\ntravel\u2019d into _Pal\u00e6stin_ to see and learn the Virtues of this _Balsam_\nof _Syria_; likewise from the Story of _Cleopatra_, who obtain\u2019d some\nPlants of _Balsam_ from _Herod_ the Great, to transplant in _Egypt_. Yet\nthat this Plant was not in _Jud\u00e6a_ before the Time of _Solomon_, that\ngreat Collector of Vegetable Rarities, appears from the Account of\n_Josephus_, who relates how the Queen of _Sheba_, a part of _Arabia_,\nbrought, among other Presents to that King, some Plants of the\n_Balsam-Tree_, as one of the most valuable Things in her Country;\nwhereby it appears it was not an original Native Plant of _Jud\u00e6a_, and\nothers affirm also that it had not its natural Growth there, utterly\ndenying it was peculiar to that Country, or only to be seen in two\nGardens about _Jericho_. We are to rely chiefly on the Credit and\nAuthority of _Joannes Veslingius_ and _Prosper Alpinus_, who rightly\nconclude the natural and original Place of this Plant to be in _Arabia_,\nabout _Mecca_ and _Medina_, where it still plentifully grows, and\nMountains abound therewith. From hence it has been carefully\ntransported, by the _Basha\u2019s_ of _Grand Cairo_, to the Garden of\n_Matarea_, where, when ever it dies, it is renew\u2019d from those parts of\n_Arabia_ where it grew, from whence the _Grand Signior_ yearly receives\na Present of _Balsam_ from the _Xeriff_ of _Mecca_, still call\u2019d by the\n_Arabians_ _Balessan_, and whence \u2019tis suppos\u2019d the _Greek_ Apellative\n_Balsam_ arose. The Shrub, which produces this Liquor, is about two\nCubits high, with few Leaves, like to those of Rue, always green, and\nsomewhat inclining to white, yet which fall not off in Winter. The Wood\nis gummy, cleaving to the Fingers, and outwardly of a reddish colour,\nwith Branches of the same that are long, streight, slender and\nodoriferous, with a few Leaves disorderly plac\u2019d, sometimes three, five\nor seven together, after the manner of the Mastic-Tree: It bears a few\nsmall white Flowers, like _Acatia_ or the _Egyptian_ Thorn, which are of\na pleasant scent, but fade in a little Time. After the Blossoms follow\nyellow fine scented Seeds, inclos\u2019d in a reddish black Bladder, very\nsweet, and containing a yellowish Liquor like Honey: They are bitterish\nand a little tart on the Tongue, and of the same shape and bigness with\nthe Fruit of the Turpentine-Tree, in the middle thick, and at the ends\npointed. The Juice call\u2019d _Opobalsamum_, drops in the Summer-Time from\nthe slit of the insected Bark, which no sooner comes into the Air but it\nturns whitish, afterwards green, then of a gold colour, and lastly\nbecomes paler. When \u2019tis first dropp\u2019d \u2019tis clear, but instantly turns\nthick and cloudy, and when old grows like Turpentine. \u2019Tis at first of\nso strong a Smell, that in many it causes the Head-Ach, and in some a\nsudden bleeding at the Nose; but this strong and sharp Savour at length\nchanges into a pleasant Scent, which in old _Balsam_ is so weak that you\ncan hardly discover any Smell at all.\nThere is another sort of _Balsam_ brought from _Cairo_, in Flasks and\nLeather-Bottles, which is very odoriferous, yet not the pure Liquor or\nGum issuing from the Bark of the aforesaid Tree, but drawn out of the\nWood and green Branches by boyling. Another sort is press\u2019d out of the\nSeeds, and many times sold for the right, tho\u2019 not so strong scented nor\nso bitter in Taste. There is no Medicine more generally us\u2019d by the\n_Egyptians_ than the _True Balsam_, which they esteem a kind of\n_Panacea_ for all Diseases, both external and internal, curing therewith\ndivers sorts of Wounds, as also the bitings of venomous Creatures. They\nuse it moreover as a Preservative against the Plague, and to drive away\nAgues or Fevers that proceed from Putrifaction. The Seeds and green\nBranches, are likewise us\u2019d against all Distempers that the _Balsam_ it\nself is: The same Virtue is ascrib\u2019d to the Wood; but the _Balsam_,\nterm\u2019d by the _Greeks_, _Opobalsamum_, is the strongest, the Seed or\n_Carpobalsamum_ more gentle, and the Wood or _Xylobalsamum_ the weakest\nof all. But the chief Use of the _Balsam_ for our Purpose, is preserving\nthe dead Bodies of Kings and Princes; from which Quality, and on account\nof its Analogy with _Embalming_, the _Art_ it self deriv\u2019d its Name from\nit, as we shall show hereafter, when we come to speak of its\n_Etymology_: Its other Virtues, which are very many, together with a\nmore general Description of it, the manner of extracting the Liquor, and\nthe true signs of its Goodness when unsophisticated, I intend to treat\nof more fully in my _Pharmacop\u0153ia_, in the Chapter of _Balsams_, &c.\ntherefore shall here only insert the Draft of this Plant, which is very\nscarce, taken out of _Prosper Alpinus de Plantis \u00c6gyptiacis_, and\nrepresented in our third Plate.\nWe come next, according to the Method propos\u2019d, to speak of\n_Alexandria_, [Sidenote: _Alexandria._] so call\u2019d from _Alexander_ the\n_Great_, who built this City upon a Promontory, thrusting it self into\nthe Sea, by which on the one side, and the Lake _Mareotis_ on the other,\nit is exceeding well defended. Here _Alexander_ built himself a large\nand stately Palace of admirable Workmanship, and all the succeeding\nKings of _Egypt_ so enlarg\u2019d and beautify\u2019d this City, some with Ports\nand Arsenals, and others with magnificent Temples, and such like rich\nDonations, that it was then judg\u2019d by many to be second, if not the\nfirst City of the World; being exceeding Populous, and plentifully\nprovided with all sorts of Provisions and other Necessaries. _Diodorus\nSiculus_ tells us, when he was there, he was inform\u2019d by those that kept\nthe Rolls of the Inhabitants Names, that there were above 300000\nFreemen, and the King receiv\u2019d above 6000 Talents yearly Revenue. This\nCity _Alexander_ peopl\u2019d with _Greeks_, immediately upon his Conquest of\n_Egypt_, and some of his Successors had their Residence here for 900\nYears. This was the _Metropolis_ of _Egypt_ before _Grand Cairo_ was\nbuilt; but _Alexandria_ is now so ruinous, says _Thevenot_, that many\nStrangers ask where it is even when they are in the middle of it, yet\nare there such fair remains among the Ruines, as shew it to have been a\nwonderful Place. One of the finest Things, now to be seen there, are the\nWalls, which, tho\u2019 ruin\u2019d, are so Magnificent, one must needs confess\nthey have been matchless. These Walls are strengthn\u2019d with stately ranks\nof Pillars, and have 118 great square Towers, with a little one betwixt\nevery two, nay, they are so neatly contriv\u2019d, that there are stately\nCasemates underneath, which may serve for Galleries and Walks: In each\nTower there is a large square Hall, the Vault whereof is supported by\ngreat Pillars of _Thebaic_ Stone; there are a great many Chambers above,\nand over all a large Platform, above 20 Paces square. In short, all\nthese Towers are so many Palaces, able to contain 200 Men each. The\nWalls are several Foot thick, and have every-where Port-holes in them,\nand formerly encompass\u2019d the antient Town, fortify\u2019d by such Towers.\nNext to the Walls, the finest piece of Antiquity that has withstood the\nrage of Time, is the Pillar of _Pompey_, [Sidenote: _Pompey_\u2019s Pillar.]\nscituate about 200 Paces from the City, upon an Eminence or little Hill,\nwhereby it is seen at a great distance: This Pillar stands on a square\nPedestal seven or eight Foot high, and each Face about 14 Foot over; the\nPedestal is fix\u2019d on a square Base about half a Foot high and 20 broad,\nmade of several Stones cemented together. The Body of the Pillar\nconsists only of one Stone, which some believe to be of _Granit_; but\n_Thevenot_ and others affirm, \u2019tis a sort of Cement, which, in process\nof Time, grew into Stone, or else was cast on the spot, for \u2019tis aver\u2019d\nfor truth, the Ancients had the Secret of casting Stones. But others\nabsolutely deny this Stone was so made, affirming the antient\n_Egyptians_ got these Pillars and Obelisks, that are to be seen at so\nmany places in _Italy_, at _Saide_, where they pretend many have been\ncut out and brought by Water down the _Nile_: If this be true, what\nextraordinary Barks or Water Carriages must they have had, to bring so\ngreat a weight, and in so large a bulk, as was that of this Pillar, nay,\nwhat Engins to raise it on its Pedestal? _Thevenot_ says, No Artificer\ncould be found that would undertake to remove it to another place, and\nthat it is 120 Foot high, but _Le Bruyn_, who measur\u2019d it, found it to\nbe but 90, yet as much as six Men could grasp round, which, according to\nhis Calculation is 38 Feet. On the top is a fine Chapiter,\nproportionable to the bigness of the Pillar, but made of a distinct\npiece of Stone. \u2019Tis said _Julius C\u00e6sar_ erected this Pillar in memory\nof the Victory he obtain\u2019d over _Pompey_.\n[Sidenote: _C\u00e6sar_\u2019s Palace.]\nAt some Paces distant is _C\u00e6sar_\u2019s Palace, but all ruin\u2019d, says\n_Thevenot_, except some Pillars of _Porphiry_ that are now entire and\nstanding, yet the Frontispiece is still pretty sound, being a very\nlovely piece of Architecture. About 80 Paces wide of _Pompey_\u2019s Pillar\nis a _Khalis_ or _Canal_ of the _Nile_, dug by the antient _Egyptians_\nto bring Water to _Alexandria_, which has no other to drink. This, when\nthe _Nile_ swells and breaks down a Bank, fills the Cisterns that are\npurposely made under the City, and which are very magnificent and\nspacious; for _Alexandria_ is all hollow underneath, being an entire\nCistern, whose Vaults are supported by several fair Marble-Pillars, and\nupon these Arches the Houses are built. Now this Water of the _Nile_, so\nconvey\u2019d by the _Khalis_ under the Town, is by Wheels, with Earthen\nPitchers or Buckets, drawn up into the private Cisterns of each House.\nThere are likewise to be seen at _Alexandria_ two very stately Obelisks\nof _Theban_ Marble, intermix\u2019d or speckl\u2019d with Veins of various\ncolours: One of these remains entire, but so sunk into the Earth, that\nit appears without a Pedestal. The other is quite bury\u2019d in the Ground,\nexcept the Pedestal only, which is about 10 Foot high; each of these are\nof one entire Stone, 100 Foot in height and eight in breadth, suppos\u2019d\nto be larger than those at _Rome_, and mark\u2019d with such like\n_Hieroglyphical_ Figures.\n[Sidenote: Palace of _Cleopatra_.]\nNear these Pillars or Obelisks are the Ruins of _Cleopatra_\u2019s Palace, by\nwhose stately Chambers or Apartments, in some part remaining entire, it\nmay reasonably be conjectur\u2019d, it was a very superb and magnificent\nBuilding, as likewise by some remains, still to be seen on the Sea-side,\nof a Gallery supported by many fair Pillars, and running outwards to the\nMouth of the Harbour, so that any one might embark there from the\nPalace. _Thevenot_ tells us, in his Travels to the _Levant_, p. 125.\nthat this City abounds with Marble, Porphiry and _Thebaic Stone_ or\n_Granit_, as also that among the Ruins, there are several very curious\nStones to be found, such as _Agats_, _Garnets_, _Emeralds_, &c. like to\nMedals, some engrav\u2019d with Heads, others with Idols, and some with\nBeasts, all being different from each other, and serving heretofore for\n_Talismen_ or _Charms_. These are so excellently well wrought, that\ncertainly nothing now-a-days can come up to them, whereby it appears\neither their Engravers were wonderful Artists, or else they had the Art\nof casting, or at least of softning Stones; for tho\u2019 some of these are\nso small one can hardly finger them, yet are they nevertheless all\nengrav\u2019d or otherwise wrought to perfection.\nThis City of _Alexandria_ was likewise very famous for its Academies or\nColleges, endow\u2019d with large Revenues, and planted with such Persons as\nwere eminent in Liberal Sciences, who were drawn thither by Rewards, and\ncherish\u2019d by Favours, thro\u2019 which means _Alexandria_ became the\n_Parnassus_ of the Muses, and the School of all good Literature. The\nchiefest and most memorable Place of all these was the _Serapion_,\n[Sidenote: The _Serapion_.] or Temple of the God _Serapis_, for\nsumptuous Workmanship and magnificent Building inferior to none but the\n_Roman_ Capitol. It had a curious _Portico_ of a Mile in length, whereto\nadjoyn\u2019d a Court of Justice and a Grove: In this last, the Followers of\n_Aristotle_\u2019s Doctrine had a peculiar School, whereof the\n_Alexandrians_, as _Eusebius_ and _Nicephorus_ write, would needs impose\nthe Charge on Bishop _Anatolius_, for his extraordinary Knowledge in all\nArts. St. _Mark_ the Evangelist was here first Divinity-Professor, whose\nSuccessor erected a School for _Theology_, wherein, for the advancement\nof the Christian Religion, several of the most learn\u2019d Men were\nappointed Readers, who scholastically handled the main and fundamental\nPoints only: Among these was _Pant\u00e6nus_, who read both Divinity and\nPhilosophy to all such as came to hear him, which, as it is conceiv\u2019d,\ngave the first hint to the instituting of Universities throughout the\nrest of Christendom, insomuch that, from so small a beginning, the\nSchools of _Alexandria_ became so great and eminent, that _Nazianzen_\ngave them the Title of \u03a0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u1f77\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u1f7b\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1f75\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, _The Shops or\nWorkhouses of all Learning_. Here also St _Jerom_, St. _Basil_, St.\n_Gregory_ and others were educated, and _Philo-Jud\u00e6us_ likewise became\neminent, for in this Academy the _Jews_ had a flourishing and populous\nSynagogue; but what greatly encreas\u2019d the glory of this Assembly, was\nthat most wonderful Library of _Ptolemy Philadelphus_, [Sidenote:\nLibrary of _Ptolemy_.] Son of _Ptolemeus Lagus_, the second of that Name\nof the Line of the _Egyptian_ Kings, first establish\u2019d by him, and\nafterwards augmented and enrich\u2019d by his Successors; for this King being\nan exceeding Lover of all Arts and Sciences, he, with great Labour and\nmuch Expence, made a Collection of all manner of Books, as well in\nDivinity as in all Arts, Sciences, History, and the like, some of which\nhe obtain\u2019d from _Greece_ and other places, but the _Pentateuch_, and\nthe rest of the Old Testament, he procur\u2019d from _Jud\u00e6a_. Then wrote this\nKing to _Eleazer_ the High Priest, to send him six out of every Tribe to\nTranslate this Book for the common Use. These _Ptolemy_ receiv\u2019d at\n_Alexandria_ with exceeding great civility, and erected several\nconvenient Mansions for them, wherein every one was by himself to\nTranslate the Holy Law, which they so perform\u2019d, according to the\nTestimonies of _Josephus_, _Clemens Alexandrinus_, _Eusebius_\n_Nicephorus_, St. _Austin_, and other learned Writers, that they not\nonly us\u2019d the same Sense, but the very same Words also, yet that\ncertainly not without the special Grace and Assistance of the Holy\nSpirit. Now this is the Translation which bears the Name of _Septuagint_\nto this very Day. [Sidenote: The _Septuagint_.] Moreover, this King sent\nto the _Chaldeans_, _Romans_ and other Nations for Books, all which he\nlikewise commanded to be Translated into the _Greek_ Tongue. One\n_Phalerius Demetrius_, a Learned _Athenian_ Exile, was Keeper of this\nLibrary, which amounted, as _Agellius_, _Ammianus Marcellinus_ and\n_Diodorus Siculus_ alledge, to 700000 Volumes, and was afterwards from\nTime to Time very much augmented by the succeeding Kings, \u2019till at\nlength this invaluable Treasure of _Manuscripts_ (for then the _Art_ of\n_Printing_ was not so much as thought of) was burn\u2019d in the Civil Wars\nbetween _Pompey_ and _C\u00e6sar_, in the 183 _Olympiad_, after it had\ncontinu\u2019d about 124 Years. This _C\u00e6sar_ ever after accounted the\ngreatest of his Misfortunes, that he, who was so great a Lover of Arts\nand Sciences, should be Cause of the destruction of so incomparable and\nunparalel\u2019d a _Library_.\n[Sidenote: The _Serapion Library_.]\nAnother _Library_ was afterwards erected by _Cleopatra_ in the\n_Serapion_, a Building of great Excellency and wonderful Art: This was\ngreatly adorn\u2019d and enrich\u2019d by the assistance of _Marc Anthony_, who\nacquir\u2019d the _Attalian_ and _Pergam\u00e6an_ Libraries, and which continu\u2019d\nduring the Time of the Primitive Christianity; when, in the Days of\n_Theodosius_ the Great, it was demolish\u2019d, as a harbour of Infidelity.\nAmong other remarkable Places in this City of _Alexandria_, was the\n_Seraglio_ call\u2019d _Somia_, belonging to the Palace, famous for its being\nthe Burial-Place of the _Ptolemys_, and of _Alexander_ the Great,\n[Sidenote: _Alexander_\u2019s _Sepulchre_.] whose Body lay here inclos\u2019d in a\nSepulchre of Gold; but _Cybiosactes_ despoil\u2019d it of that precious\nCover, after which, it was cover\u2019d with Glass, and so remain\u2019d to the\nTime of the _Saracens_, as _Sandys_, p. 87. informs us. Now since the\nBurial of _Alexander_ the Great was manag\u2019d, in all respects, suitably\nto his Grandeur, whereby it not only exceeded all others in regard of\nExpence, State and Pomp, but also in point of curiosity of Workmanship,\n_Diodorus Siculus_, Lib. 18. cap. 3. thought fit to recommend to\nPosterity these remarkable and entertaining Matters concerning it,\n_viz._ That to _Arid\u00e6us_, Bastard Son of _Philip_, and Brother of\n_Alexander_, whom he succeeded, the care of his Funeral, and preparing a\nChariot to convey his Body to the Temple of _Jupiter Ammon_, was\ncommited. First therefore he provided a Coffin of beaten Gold, wrought\nin form and proportion to his Body: This he fill\u2019d with Aromatic Spices,\nas well to delight the Senses, as to preserve the Corps from\nPutrifaction, and then fitted it exactly with a Cover of Gold, which\nagain was over-spread with a purple Pall, embroider\u2019d with Gold, and\nnear it were plac\u2019d the Arms of the Deceas\u2019d, thereby to represent the\nActs of his Life. Then were these plac\u2019d in a Chariot under a\nTriumphal-Arch of Gold, beset with precious Stones, and supported by\nPillars and Chapiters of Gold also, made after the _Ionic_ Order. On\neach side the Arch stood a Golden Image of _Victory_ bearing a Trophy,\nand on the top was a Gold-Fringe of Net-Work, from which hung Bells so\nlarge, that they might be heard at a great distance. Under this Portico\nor Arch was plac\u2019d a four square Throne of Gold, adorn\u2019d with little\nCoronets of various beautiful Colours. On every side of this Arch, from\na Net-Work of Gold, a Finger thick, hung four Tables or Pannels,\nwhereupon were pourtray\u2019d all sorts of Creatures. In the first Table was\nrepresented _Alexander_ sitting in a Chariot, with a Royal Scepter in\nhis Hand, his Armour-Bearer before him, and his Life-Guards, compleatly\narm\u2019d, round about him. In the second follow\u2019d Elephants, adorn\u2019d in\ntheir proper Habiliments, on which sat _Indians_ before, and\n_Macedonians_ behind, arm\u2019d according to the Customs of their respective\nCountries. In the third might be seen Squadrons of Horse drawn up in\nBattalia; and in the fourth appear\u2019d a Fleet order\u2019d in a Line of\nBattel. At the entrance into this Arch were plac\u2019d Golden Lions, looking\nsternly towards those that should offer to enter. On the out-side of the\nArch, and middle of the Roof, was plac\u2019d on a purple Carpet, a Crown of\nGold, so large, that by the reflection of the Sun-Beams, it darted such\nan amazing splendor and brightness, that at a distance it appear\u2019d like\na flash of Lightning. The whole Work was set upon two Axel-Trees, the\nends of which were likewise of Gold, representing Lions Heads with Darts\nin their Mouths. The whole Machine was mov\u2019d by four Wheels, whose\nSpokes and Naves were also over-laid with Gold, and there were four\nPoles to draw it by, to each of which were yok\u2019d 16 of the largest and\nfinest Mules that could be got, in all 64. Every Mule was adorn\u2019d with a\nCrown of Gold, Bells of Gold on either side their Heads, and rich\nCollars about their Necks, set off and beautify\u2019d with precious Stones.\nAfter this manner did the Chariot set forth, the sight of which was more\nstately and pompous than can be imagin\u2019d, so that its Fame brought\ntogether Multitudes of Spectators; for the People out of every City,\nwhither it was coming, met it, and then ran back again before it, never\nsatisfy\u2019d with the delight they took in gazing on it; and, suitable to\nso stately a Show, attended a vast company of Workmen and Pioneers to\nclear the way for its Passage. Thus _Arid\u00e6us_ (who spent two Years in\nPreparations for it) brought the King\u2019s Body from _Babylon_ to _Egypt_.\n_Ptolemy_, in Honour to this great King, met the Corps with his Army as\nfar as _Syria_, where he receiv\u2019d and accompany\u2019d it with great Respect\nand Observance; for he had resolv\u2019d not to conduct it to the Temple of\n_Jupiter Ammon_, but to keep it in this City which _Alexander_ had\nbuilt, being the most famous almost of any in the World. For this end he\nbuilt a Temple in Honour of _Alexander_, in greatness and stateliness of\nStructure, becoming the Glory and Majesty of so great a King; and in\nthis Repository laid the Body, and honour\u2019d his Exequies with Sacrifices\nand magnificent Shows, agreeable to the State of a Demi-God: Thus much\nfor the glorious Sepulchre and Burial of the greatest Monarch perhaps\nthat ever liv\u2019d. Next we shall take notice of two _Physiological_\nObservations on the Earth and Water of _Egypt_, made by Father _Vansleb_\nin his Voyage thither, p. 109. 111. where, speaking of _Alexandria_, he\ntells us the Earth thereabouts is full of _Nitre_, which is easily\nprov\u2019d by the following Experiment, _viz._ That if you take a piece of\nEarth and set it in the hot Sun, it will become white as Snow on that\nside that is towards the Sun. Also in the _Grand Signior_\u2019s Salt-Pits,\nthat are out of this City, near the _Khalis_ or Chanel of _Cleopatra_,\nhe took notice of two things very remarkable: _First_, That the Water of\n_Nile_, the sweetest and freshest in the World, makes a Salt, not only\nwhiter than ordinary, but likewise very excellent. _Secondly_, That this\nSalt has the taste of Violets. The last thing, but not the least, that I\nhave to say of _Alexandria_, [Sidenote: Isle of _Pharos_.] is concerning\nthe famous Isle of _Pharos_, which stands over-against the City, and was\nformerly a Mile distant from the Land, but joyn\u2019d to the Continent by\n_Cleopatra_, on the following occasion, says _Heylin_, p. 849. The\n_Rhodians_, then Lords of the Sea, us\u2019d to exact some Tribute or\nAcknowledgement from every Island within those Seas, and consequently\nfrom this: Their Embassadors, upon this Occasion, sending to _Cleopatra_\nto demand this Tribute, she deferr\u2019d it for seven Days, under pretence\nof celebrating a Solemn Festival, but in the mean Time, by raising huge\nDams and Banks in the Sea, both with incredible charge and speed, she\nunited the Island to the Shoar, which finish\u2019d, she sent away the\n_Rhodians_ empty-handed, with this witty Jeer, _That they were to take\nToll of the Islands, and not of the Continent_. A Work of great rarity\nand magnificence this, both for its extent, taking up the space of seven\nFurlongs, and thence call\u2019d _Heptastadium_, and the incredible speed\nwherewith it was finish\u2019d. Upon a Promontory hereof, on a Rock,\nenviron\u2019d by the Sea, _Ptolemy Philadelphus_ caus\u2019d a Watch-Tower to be\nbuilt for the benefit of Sailors, (the Seas upon that Coast being very\nunsafe and full of Flats) to guide them over the Bar of _Alexandria_.\nThis _Pharos_ or Watch-Tower was of wonderful height, ascended by Steps,\nand having many Lanthorns at the top, wherein Lights burn\u2019d nightly, as\na Direction to such as sail\u2019d by Sea; yet oftentimes the multitude of\nLights appearing a far off as one, and being mistaken for a Star,\nprocur\u2019d contrary effects to the promis\u2019d Safety. This had the repute of\nthe Worlds seventh Wonder, call\u2019d after the Name of the Island, and is\nat this Day a general Name for such Towers as serve to that purpose. The\nMaterials of it were white Marble, and the chief Architect _Sostratus_\nof _Gnidos_, who grav\u2019d upon it this Inscription: Sostratus _of_ Gnidos,\n_Son of_ Dixiphanes, _to the Gods Protectors for the safeguard of\nSailors_. This Inscription he cover\u2019d over with Plaister, and inscrib\u2019d\nthereon the Name and Title of the King, Founder of this Tower, to the\nend that when the King\u2019s Name should be wasted and wash\u2019d away, his own,\nwhich was cut on Marble, might be celebrated to Eternity.\nTo the South side of the City of _Alexandria_, near the Lake _Mareotis_,\nwherein the Sepulchres of King _M\u0153ris_ and his Wife were Pyramidically\nbuilt, adjoins the _Labyrinth_, [Sidenote: The _Labyrinth_.] not much\ninferior to that Structure, as will appear from that Description given\nby _Sandys_, p. 88. where he tells us, \u2018That in the midst of this\n_Labyrinth_ were 37 Palaces, belonging to the 37 Jurisdictions of\n_Egypt_; to which resorted the several Presidents to celebrate the\nFestivals of their Gods (who had herein their particular Temples,\nmoreover 15 Chapels, containing each a _Nemesis_) and also to advise of\nMatters of Importance relating to the Public Good. The Passages\nthereunto were thro\u2019 Caves of a miraculous length, full of dark and\nwinding Paths, and Rooms within one another, having many Doors to\nconfound the Memory and distract the Intention, and leading into\ninextricable Error: Now mounting aloft, and then again re-descending,\nnot seldom turning about Walls infolded within each other, in the form\nof intricate Mazes, not possible to thred or get out of without a\nConductor. The Building was more under Ground than above, being all of\nmassy Stone, and laid with that Art, that neither Cement nor Wood was\nus\u2019d in any part of the Fabric. The end at length being attain\u2019d, a pair\nof Stairs of 90 Steps, conducted into a stately _Portico_, supported by\nPillars of _Theban_ Marble, and this again gave entrance into a spacious\nHall, the place of general Conventions. All this Hall was of polish\u2019d\nMarble, and adorn\u2019d with Statues both of Gods and Men. The Chambers were\nso dispos\u2019d, that upon their opening, the Doors gave Reports no less\nterrible than Thunder. The first Entrance was of white Marble within,\nadorn\u2019d throughout with Marble Columns, and divers Figures.\u2019 _Dedalus_\nis said to have imitated this, in that _Labyrinth_ he built in _Crete_,\nyet expressing hereof scarce the Hundredth part; for, as _Heylin_\nobserves, it fell as short of the Glories of this, as _Minos_ was\ninferior to _Psammiticus_ (the Founder) in Power and Riches. \u2018Whoso\nmounted the top, should see as it were a large Plan of Stone, and\nwithal, those 37 Palaces environ\u2019d with solid Pillars, and Walls\nconsisting of Stone of a mighty size. At the end of this _Labyrinth_\nstood a square Pyramid of a marvelous breadth and answerable height,\nbeing the Sepulchre of King _Ismandes_ that built it.\u2019 [Sidenote: By\nwhom, and to what end built.] But who built this _Labyrinth_, and to\nwhat end, Authors differ very much, and _Pliny_, who writes a great deal\nof it, gives no certain Reason why it was made. \u2019Tis said it was first\nbuilt by King _Petesucus_ or _Tithoes_, altho\u2019 _Herodotus_ affirms \u2019twas\nthe Work of all the Kings, and lastly of _Psammiticus_. The cause of\nbuilding it is as variously reported: _Demoteles_ thinks it to have been\nthe Palace of _Motherudis_; _Lycias_, that it was the Sepulchre of\n_M\u0153ris_ (of which Opinion is also _Diodorus_) but most believe \u2019twas\nbuilt as sacred to the Sun. _Bellonius_ thinks it to have been a\nSepulchre rather than any thing else, for such like magnificent Works,\nas was also the _Mausoleum_, were commonly rais\u2019d for that end, and\n_Herodotus_ clearly describes this wonderful _Labyrinth_ to have been\nbuilt for a Sepulchre, telling us, \u2018The Kings of _Egypt_, where they\nperform\u2019d their Sacred Rites, resolv\u2019d to leave a common Monument of\nthemselves, therefore in that Place, which is a little above the Lake of\n_M\u0153ris_, and near the City of _Crocodiles_, they built a _Labyrinth_,\nwhich _Herodotus_ himself saw, and which he says was much bigger than\nFame had represented it; for if any one should reason with himself about\nthe Walls and nature of this Work, according to the Narration of the\n_Greeks_, he would never conceive the Labour and Charge of this\n_Labyrinth_. The Temple of _Diana_ at _Ephesus_ is very well worth\nmentioning, yet are the _Pyramids_ far greater, the least of which\nequals the largest Labour of the _Grecians_; and tho\u2019 this _Labyrinth_\nlikewise excels them, yet does the Lake _M\u0153ris_, near which it is built,\nand the Description of which you have at _p._ 141. afford much greater\nadmiration.\u2019 The former of these, _viz._ the _Labyrinth_, is said to\nhave been for the Sepulchre of those Kings that built it, and for the\nSacred Crocodiles; and the latter to contain the Sepulchres of King\n_M\u0153ris_ and his Wife.\n[Sidenote: The Wall built by _Sesostris_.]\nNot to describe particularly that prodigious Wall built by _Sesostris_,\nwhich defended the _East_ side of _Egypt_, against the Irruptions of the\n_Syrians_ and _Arabians_, being 1500 Furlongs in length, and extending\nfrom _Pelusium_ by the Desart as far as _Heliopolis_; we come next to\nspeak of those famous Walls belonging to the City of _Babylon_ in\n_Chaldea_, built by _Semiramis_ the Wife of _Ninus_, a Princess, who\nbeing naturally of an high aspiring Spirit, was ambitious of excelling\nall others in glorious Actions. So soon therefore as she had bury\u2019d her\nHusband _Ninus_, [Sidenote: _Ninus_ his Sepulchre.] King of _Assyria_,\nin the Royal Palace, and rais\u2019d over him a Mound of Earth of wonderful\nbigness, which as _Ctesias_ reports, standing at some distance from the\nCity that lay in the Plain, appear\u2019d like a stately Cittadel, being 9\nFurlongs high and 10 broad: She provided her self of 2000000 Artists and\nWorkmen to build this City of _Babylon_ in one Year, [Sidenote:\n_Babylon_ in _Chaldea_.] so ordering it that the River _Euphrates_\nshould flow thro\u2019 the midst of it, as _Diod. Siculus_, Lib. 2. cap. 1.\ninforms us. She next encompass\u2019d it with a Wall as many Furlongs in\ncircuit as there are Days in the Year, _viz._ 365: This Wall was 300\nFoot high and 75 broad, insomuch that Coaches might meet and turn upon\nit; She adorn\u2019d it with 250 Turrets of suitable proportion: Then she\nmade a Bridge 5 Furlongs in length, over the narrowest part of the\nRiver, and Floor\u2019d it with great Joists and Planks of Cedar, Cypress and\nPalm-Tree, 30 Foot long: At each end of this Bridge, just on the Brink\nof the River, she built a Palace, whence she might have a Prospect of\nthe whole City: Then in a low Ground she sunk a four square Pond, every\nSquare being 300 Furlongs and the depth of the whole 35 Foot, lining it\nwith Bricks, cemented together with a sort of _Bitumen_ of a very\nglutinous Nature like _Asphalt_, which work\u2019d out of the Earth so\nplentifully thereabouts, that it not only supply\u2019d the People with Fuel,\nbut serv\u2019d them also instead of Mortar for their Buildings, and with\nwhich both the Palaces and Walls of this City were cemented. Afterwards,\nby turning the River aside, she made a Passage in the nature of a Vault\nfrom one Palace to another, and then let the Water again into its former\nChannel, which immediately overflow\u2019d the whole Work, by which means she\ncould go under the River when she had not a mind to pass over it. She\nlikewise made two brazen Gates, one at each end of this Vault, as also\nBanqueting-Houses of Brass, into which passages were open\u2019d by certain\nEngins. Here might be seen brazen Statues of _Ninus_, _Semiramis_ and\nall the great Officers, as likewise Armies drawn up in _Battalia_. These\nPalaces were moreover surrounded with Walls, 30 Furlongs in circuit,\nwith Turrets on them 140 Yards high, on whose Bricks were pourtray\u2019d,\nbefore they were burn\u2019d, all kinds of living Creatures, with great Art\nand curious Painting, particularly a general Hunting of all sorts of\nwild Beasts, each Beast being four Cubits high: Among these was\n_Semiramis_ on Horseback, striking a Leopard thro\u2019 with a Dart, and near\nher _Ninus_ her Husband peircing a Lion with his Lance.\nIn the middle of the City she built a Temple to _Jupiter Belus_ of\nexceeding great height, [Sidenote: Temple of _Belus_.] by the advantage\nof which, the _Chaldean_ Astrologers observ\u2019d the setting and rising of\nthe Stars. Upon the top of it she plac\u2019d three Statues of _Jupiter_,\n_Juno_ and _Rhea_, all of beaten Gold. That of _Jupiter_ was about 40\nFoot high, and _Juno_ held in her hand a Scepter adorn\u2019d with precious\nStones. These three Statues weigh\u2019d 2830 _Babylonish_ Talents, and for\nthese Deities, there were plac\u2019d on an Altar of beaten Gold, 40 Cubits\nlong and 15 broad, Censors, Cups and Drinking-Bowls of Gold likewise,\nweighing at least 3230 Talents. Besides the richness of this City, it\nwas so vast and great that _Aristotle_ said, it ought rather to have\nbeen call\u2019d a Country, adding withal, that when the Town was taken, it\nwas three Days before the farthest part had notice of it.\n[Sidenote: The _Pensil Garden_.]\nHere likewise was the _Pensil Garden_ so much fam\u2019d, being 400 Foot\nsquare, with an ascent to it like to the top of a Mountain, and having\nBuildings and Apartments out of one into another, like a Theatre. Under\nthe Steps of the Ascent were Arches, gradually rising one above another,\nand supporting the whole Building, the highest Arch upon which the\nPlatform of the Garden was laid being 50 Cubits high, and the Garden it\nself surrounded with Battlements and Walls 22 Foot in thickness. The\nwhole Fabric was floor\u2019d over with massy Stones, 16 Foot long and 4\nbroad, and these again cover\u2019d with Reeds run over with _Bitumen_, upon\nwhich were laid double Tiles, set together with hard Plaster, and those\ncover\u2019d with Sheet-Lead, that the wet which should drain thro\u2019 the Earth\nmight not rot the Foundation. Upon all these was laid Earth of a\nconvenient depth, which was planted with all sorts of Trees, that for\nlargeness and beauty might delight the Spectators. The Arches had in\nthem many stately Rooms of all kinds, and for all purposes; one of these\nhad a certain Engin, that drew plenty of Water out of the River for\nwatering the Garden, after such manner as none above knew how it was\ndone. This Garden was built in latter Ages by _Cyrus_, at the request of\na _Persian_ Courtesan, who, coveting Meadows on the tops of Mountains,\ndesir\u2019d the King, by an artificial Plantation, to imitate the Land in\n_Persia_.\n_Semiramis_ built other Cities on the Banks of _Euphrates_ and _Tigris_,\nand likewise caus\u2019d a great Stone to be cut out of the Mountains of\n_Armenia_, 125 Foot in length and 5 in breadth and thickness, which she\nconvey\u2019d to the River by the help of many yokes of Oxen and Asses, and\nthere putting it on board a Ship, brought it to _Babylon_, where she set\nit up in the most remarkable Place, as a wonderful Spectacle to all\nBeholders. [Sidenote: _Obelisk_ of _Semiramis_.] This from its shape was\nterm\u2019d an _Obelisk_, signifying in _Greek_, a _Spit_, and accounted,\nsays _Diodorus_, one of the seven Wonders of the World; from whence we\nhave a very good Argument, that the _Egyptian Obelisks_ were cut out of\nRocks or Quarries, and not cast as some have suppos\u2019d. _Semiramis_\nhaving finish\u2019d these Works, went to the Mountain _Bagistan_ in _Media_,\nwhich is 17 Furlongs from top to bottom, and there caus\u2019d her own Image\nto be carv\u2019d on the side of the Rock, and 100 of her Guards with Lances\nround about her. She also made a Garden on the middle of an exceeding\nhigh Rock, and built therein stately Houses of Pleasure, from whence she\nmight have both a delightful Prospect into her Garden, and view her Army\nencamp\u2019d below on the Plain: Likewise that she might leave behind her a\nlasting Monument of her Name, she in a short Time, yet at vast expence,\nmade a shorter Passage towards _Ecbatana_, for by hewing down the Rocks,\nand filling up the Valleys, she laid that Way open and plain, which to\nthis Day is call\u2019d _Semiramis_\u2019s _Way_. She plentifully supply\u2019d\n_Ecbatana_ with wholsome Waters, by means of a Canal she dug, 15 Foot\nover and 40 Foot deep, beginning from the foot of the Mountain\n_Orontes_, and as she went thro\u2019 _Persia_ and _Asia_, she plain\u2019d all\nalong the way before her, levelling both Rocks and Mountains. On the\nother hand, in Champagne Countries, she rais\u2019d Eminences, whereon she\neither built Towns and Cities, or else Sepulchres for her Officers and\ngreat Commanders. Many other wonderful Things were done by this Queen,\nwhich seem to exceed common Belief; but as for those more admirable\nWorks of the _Egyptians_, _Herodotus_, _Diodorus Siculus_, _Strabo_,\n_Pliny_ and others are full of Relations of what they have been, and the\npresent Remains of some of them at _Rome_ are sufficient Arguments to\nevince there were such, so that we should but loose Time in endeavouring\nto prove that which we now hope every one is satisfied of. Our next\nbusiness therefore, must be to enquire how these Arts came first to be\nfound out, and by what means they were accomplish\u2019d and brought to so\ngreat Perfection: What these Arts and Sciences were, suppos\u2019d by Authors\nto have been found out by the _Egyptians_, I have already shown\nelse-where, so shall here only add, that _Hermes_ or _Mercury_ is\nreported by _Diodorus Siculus_ and other Writers, to have been the chief\nInventor of them; but as no _Art_ was ever invented and compleated at\none Time, so neither was it ever invented and perfected by one Person so\nfar, but another could add somewhat more commodious or advantagious to\nit.\nNow, as to the first Invention of Things, I shall consider these three\nprincipal Causes: [Sidenote: _Arts_ how first Invented.] _First_,\n_Necessity_ is said to have been the _Mother_ of Invention, by reason it\nputs Mens Minds upon thinking how to supply their Wants, with such\nThings, and after such manner as they have most occasion for.\n_Secondly_, _Unexpected Experiments_, as when you aim and try to find\nout one Thing, and accidentally light on another: Thus \u2019tis said\n_Gun-Powder_ and divers other considerable Things have been found out by\nChance, and innumerable others by experimental _Chymistry_. _Thirdly_,\n_Natural Philosophy_, or Observation of the Instincts of all living\nCreatures, has suggested many noble Thoughts and Fancies to Men, both\nfor Imitation and Invention. Now tho\u2019 we cannot assert that Men at first\nlearn\u2019d _Architecture_ from the _Beaver_, which builds himself a House\nfor shelter and security in the Winter Time, yet are we certain they\ntook the several Ornaments of Building either from Birds, Beasts and\nFishes, or from the Leaves, Flowers and Fruits of Plants. Thus the\n_Grecians_ generally us\u2019d the Leaves of [5]_Acanthus_, and the _Jews_\nthose of Palm-Trees and Pomegranates in their Buildings. Nor is it less\nprobable their Weaving might be found out from the Spider or Silk-Worm,\nthan that the Fish call\u2019d _Nautilus_, or the little Mariner, was\n_Navigiorum Archetipus_, the first Type or Pattern of a Ship, who when\nhe is to Swim, contracts his Body and Finns into the form of a Galley\nunder Sail. From the sight whereof, some (as _Pliny_ conceives) took the\nfirst hint of framing a Ship, as from the sight of a Kite flying in the\nAir, who turns and steers his Body with his Tail (as Fishes also do in\nthe Water) some have devis\u2019d the Stern and Rudder of a Ship. _Iidem\nvidentur Artem gubernandi docuisse Caud\u00e6 flexibus, in C\u00e6lo monstrante\nNatura quod opus esset in profundo_, Pliny _Lib._ 10. cap. 10. _They\nseem to have taught Men the Art of Steering a Ship by the flexures of\ntheir Tails, Nature shewing in the Air what was needful to be done in\nthe Deep._ \u2019Tis also observ\u2019d by that great _Naturalist_ Mr. _Ray_, that\nthe Trunk of a Bird\u2019s Body does somewhat resemble the Hull of a Ship,\nthe Head the Prow, which is for the most part small, that it may the\nmore easily cut the Air, and the Tail serves to steer, govern and direct\nits flight. We read there was a Beast in _Egypt_ call\u2019d _Cynocephalus_,\nof a very strange kind, kept in the Temple of _Serapis_, which, during\nthe Time of the two Equinoxes, made Water 12 Times in a Day, and as\noften in the Night, regularly and at even Spaces of Time; from the\nObservation of which, they divided the Natural Day into 24 Hours, that\nBeast being as it were their Clock and Dial, both to divide their Day,\nand reckon their Hours by. This probably gave _Ctesibius_ of\n_Alexandria_ an hint to invent the _Clepsydr\u00e6_ or Water Glasses, which\ndistinguish\u2019d the Hours by the fall or dropping of Water, as\n_Clepsammidi\u00e6_ or Sand-Glasses did by the running of Sand; and to shew\nthey ow\u2019d the Invention of these Water-Glasses to the _Cynocephalus_,\nthey us\u2019d to carve one on the top of them, as may be seen in _Kircher_\nin _Mechanica \u00c6gyptiaca_. Now _Egypt_ was both in respect of its\nScituation as well as natural production of curious Things, a mighty\nhelp to the Invention and improvement of Arts and Sciences; for as\n_Casalius de veter. \u00c6gypt. Ritibus_, p. 35. tells us, _Arithmetic_ was\nfirst found out by their great Commerce, and _Geometry_ from the River\n_Nile_\u2019s Annual over-flowing the Fields, and removing their Bound-Marks,\nwhich occasion\u2019d great Disputes among them, so that by the frequent\nmeasuring of the Ground it was deriv\u2019d into this Art. And as for\n_Astrology_, the quality of the Climate and scituation of the Country\nwas such, as gave them an advantage above others, more clearly to\ndiscern the rising and setting of the Stars, for by reason of the\nperpetual Serenity of the Air, they found out the Course of the Sun,\nMoon and Stars, with their Constellations, Aspects and Influences, and\nmoreover by their often Worshipping those Planets, beheld and\ncontemplated them more seriously, and from thence became the most\nskillful _Astrologers_ in the World, as _Firmianus Divin. instit._ Lib.\n2. cap. 14. says: Hereby also being made more perspicacious, and\nobserving of natural Things, they invented _Physick_, for, as _Prosper\nAlpinus_, [Sidenote: _Physic_, how first found out.] Lib. _de Medicina\n\u00c6gyptiorum_ reports, They took the hints of curing divers Diseases from\nbrute Beasts and Animals. Thus _Phlebotomy_ or Bleeding was found out\nfrom the _Hippopotomos_ or River-Horse, which lives in the _Nile_, for\nwhen this Beast is grown over fat with continual Gluttony and\nGormandizing, he searches out for a sharp pointed Reed on the Banks of\nthe River, and having found one fit for his purpose, sticks it into his\nThigh, and wounds a certain Vein there; when having sufficiently emty\u2019d\nhis Plethoric Body by Bleeding, he closes, and as it were plasters up\nthe Orifice with Mud. Also that a certain Bird call\u2019d _Ibis_, about the\nBanks of _Nile_, first taught the _Egyptians_ the way of administring\n_Clysters_; for this Bird has been often observ\u2019d, by means of his\ncrooked Bill intromitted into the _Anus_, to inject salt Water, as with\na Syringe, into its own Bowels, and thereby to exonerate its Paunch when\ntoo much obstructed. Dogs are commonly known when Sick to Vomit\nthemselves by eating Grass. Swine, so soon as they perceive themselves\nill, refuse their Meat, and so recover by Abstinence. \u2019Tis reported the\nwild Goat taught the use of the _Dictamnus_, for drawing out of Darts\nand healing Wounds, and the Swallow the use of _Celandine_ for\nrecovering the Sight; whence we may as well infer, that from the\ndiversity of Bodies, such as Flies, Spiders, Gnats, Bees, Pismires,\nGrashoppers, Locusts, Frogs, _&c._ inclos\u2019d in Amber, the _Egyptians_\nmight first learn the Art of _Embalming_; [Sidenote: How _Embalming_.]\nbut since these things appear rather Fabulous, and the pleasant Flights\nof acute Wits and inquisitive Naturalists, than solid Truths to be\nrely\u2019d on, we must have recourse to the fourth _Cause_, _viz._ That\ntheir Opinion of the _Metemsychosis_ or Transmigration of the Soul, and\nother such like religious Principles, first oblig\u2019d them to study this\nArt, and perhaps the known Virtues of _Opobalsamum_, so good against\nMortifications and Putrifactions, might suggest to them the use of it in\npreserving the Bodies of Princes, as the Balsamic, Sulphurous and\nBituminous Nature of their _Asphalt_, taught them to use that for the\npoorer sort of People; besides, whatever way it was first found out, it\nwas as easie for them to do it as for us to believe it, says _Gabriel\nClauderus_ in _Methodo Balsamandi_, p. 41. because they excell\u2019d all\nother Nations in Learning and Invention, so that by applying themselves\nwith the utmost diligence to the study of this Art, they could not fail\nof attaining the perfection of it, especially since this Region was,\nabove all others, the best accommodated with an extraordinary\nfruitfulness and plenty of Aromatic and Medicinal Things, necessary as\nwell for all Physical Uses as for the decent performing of their\n_Embalmings_. Now _Sandys_, p. 38. tells us abundance of Practitioners\nin Physic are frequently invited to _Cairo_ by the great store of\nSimples there growing. Add to this the extraordinary Diligence of the\n_Egyptian_ Kings and Priests, both in rewarding Arts and being\nsolicitously intent on finding out the Nature of Things themselves, not\nby indulging Superstition, but by a strict search and scrutiny, not\ntrusting to plausible Appearances, but only to Experiments and\nDemonstration. To prove this we shall show such infallible Methods for\nthe Invention and Improvement of all Arts and Sciences, that they could\nnot easily miscarry in their Designs; for besides the famous Library of\n_Ptolemy Philadelphus_, and that in the Temple of _Serapis_, there was\nat _Cairo_, as _Prosper Alpinus de Medicina \u00c6gyptiorum_ relates, a\nUniversity or place of Study call\u2019d _Gemelhazar_, which paid yearly out\nof the public Stock of the Academy 300000 pieces of Gold for Books,\nFood, Stipends, _&c._\nFootnote 5:\n  \u2019Tis said the Ornaments of the _Corinthian_ Chapiter were invented\n  from seeing a Maid rest her Basket on a Tomb over-grown with this\n  Plant; of which see _Vitruvius_.\nThe Invention of Arts and Sciences may be partly imputed to the goodness\nof their Laws, [Sidenote: Goodness of their _Laws_.] and their\nstrictness in observing them; the _Egyptians_ alledging this as an\nundeniable Argument, that the best Laws were made and instituted among\nthem, in that the Native Kings had Reign\u2019d in _Egypt_ for the space of\nabove 4700 Years, and that their Country during all that Time had been\nthe most prosperous and flourishing in the World, which could never have\nbeen so if the Inhabitants had not been civiliz\u2019d and brought up under\ngood Laws, and a liberal Education in all kinds of Arts and Sciences. To\neffect this therefore they divided their People into three Orders:\n_First_, Priests. _Secondly_, Artificers and Husbandmen. And, _Thirdly_,\nMilitary Persons or Souldiers. Now each Person strictly keeping to his\nown Province, Art flourish\u2019d in a right Line, and Sciences were not\nattack\u2019d by rustic and ignorant Pretenders, but only practis\u2019d by\nPriests, who were the chief of their Nobility, and liv\u2019d separate from\nall others least their Learning should be any ways divulg\u2019d. Nor was it\nlawful for any but Priests Sons to enter the Colleges where these\nSciences were taught, whereby the more polite Knowledge was secur\u2019d to\nthe Priests, and mechanic Arts and Trades practis\u2019d only by the inferior\nPeople. Now the better to effect and propagate this, they had three Laws\nthat mightily encourag\u2019d the Study and Invention of Arts, on which their\nchief Felicity depended, as _Diodorus Siculus_ witnesses. _First_, In\nthat they honour\u2019d and esteem\u2019d all such as were the first Inventors and\nPromoters of useful Things. _Secondly_, In that he who pretended to more\nArts than one, incurr\u2019d a most grievous Punishment. And, _Thirdly_, In\nthat every one was oblig\u2019d to appear annually before the Governour of\nthe Province to show how he got his Living, which if he could not prove,\nor was found to subsist by unjust means, he was infallibly punish\u2019d with\nDeath. Thus all Men were employ\u2019d, [Sidenote: _Arts_ most flourishing in\nthe Reign of _Amasis_.] and every Art carry\u2019d to the highest perfection\nin the Reign of _Amasis_, who enacted the third Law. Now, as a further\nArgument of the _Egyptian_ Industry, hear what _Fl. Vopiscus_ relates of\nthe _Alexandrians_: _Civitas_, says he, _[Alexandria] opulenta, dives,\nf\u00e6cunda, in qua Nemo vivit otiosus, alii Vitrum conflant, ab aliis\nCharta conficitur, alii Linyphiones sunt: Omnes certe cujuscunque Artis\n& videntur & habentur; Podagrosi quod agant habent, habent c\u00e6ci quod\nfaciant, ne Chiragrici quidem apud eos otiosi vivunt_. [Sidenote:\n_Alexandria_, how Industrious and Flourishing.] Alexandria _is a\nplentiful and opulent City, in which none live idle: Some blow Glass,\nothers make Paper, a third sort weave Linnen, and in a word, all have\nsome Trade or Work. Those that have the Gout in their Feet or are Blind\nhave something to do, and even such as have the Gout in their Hands are\nnot idle._ This shows how every Art was cultivated: Likewise their\nIndustry and number of Hands as plainly prove the facility of performing\nthose seemingly incredible and stupendious Works, which has taken us up\nso much Time to relate; for \u2019tis said, throughout the whole Country of\n_Egypt_, [Sidenote: _Egypt_, its number of Cities and Inhabitants.] in\nthe Reign of _Amasis_, there were reckon\u2019d no fewer than 20000 Cities,\nand that it was esteem\u2019d the most populous Country of the World.\n_Diodorus Siculus_ tells us it had in it above 18000 Cities, as might be\nseen register\u2019d in their Sacred Records; and in the Time of _Ptolemeus\nLagus_ there remain\u2019d above 3000. Once, they say, in a general _Census_\ntaken of all the Inhabitants, they amounted to Seven Millions, and even\nat the Time of _Diodorus_, there were no less than Three Millions of\nPeople, [Sidenote: How it came to be so numerous.] which wonderful\nEncrease some think might be effected by the constant drinking of the\n_Nile_ Water, which had the Virtue of making the _Egyptian_ Women\nProlific, so as commonly to bring forth three or four Children at a\nBirth. This may a little abate the wonder, how the Children of _Israel_\ncould multiply to that degree in so short a space, that in 430 Years,\nfrom 70 Persons, which came with _Jacob_ into _Egypt_, he became a\nmighty Nation; for it is said, at their departure, there journey\u2019d, from\n_Rameses_ to _Succoth_, about 600000 Men, besides Women and Children.\nNow how populous the Land from whence they came was, may be collected\nnot only from their commanding such mighty Powers as were under them,\nbut also, as has been before observ\u2019d, from the several Accounts of that\nKingdom, given us by _Herodotus_ and _Diodorus Siculus_; for it is\nreported that _Sesac_ or _Sesonchis_ arm\u2019d 400000 Foot, 60000 Horse and\n1200 Chariots against _Rehoboam_, and that King _Cheops_ or _Chemnis_\nemploy\u2019d 360000 Men in erecting one of the _Pyramids_. \u2019Tis also farther\nsaid, they built other stupendious Works, such as the _Labyrinth_,\n_Obelisks_, _Colossus\u2019s_, &c. [Sidenote: By what Means such wonderful\nWorks were perform\u2019d,] as not knowing otherwise how to expend their\nTreasure or employ their People, thro\u2019 which means their Kings, by their\ngreat Riches and infinite numbers of Men, left behind them such eternal\nMonuments of their State and Grandure, which altho\u2019 they bear the name\nof _Wonders_ to this very Day, as seeming very difficult to have been\nperform\u2019d, yet were such Works render\u2019d easie enough, if we consider so\nvast a multitude of Hands as were employ\u2019d about them, and this being\nrightly consider\u2019d, we may well enough believe what _Herodotus_ says of\n_Egypt_, _That it had more wonderful Works than all the Nations of the\nWorld besides_.\n[Sidenote: and to what End.]\nThus having shown how the _Egyptians_ were the first Inventors and\nPropagators of Arts and Sciences, we will next show to what end they\nbuilt those admirable Structures with so great Labour and Expence,\nthinking not as _Aristotle_, Lib. 3. _Polit._ who makes them to have\nbeen the Works of Tyranny, or as _Pliny_, Lib. 26. cap. 12. conjectures,\nthat they built them partly out of Ostentation, and partly out of\nState-Policy, to divert their People from Mutinies and Rebellion by\nkeeping them employ\u2019d, but that they erected them as Repositories for\ntheir Dead, which they did from a Belief they had of the Immortality of\nthe Soul, and an Opinion they held of the Metempsychosis or\nTransmigration of it from one Body to another: \u2019Tis true, those\nArguments alledg\u2019d by _Pliny_ might be Secondary Motives, yet says\n_Greaves_ in his _Pyramidographia_, p. 45. the true Reason depends upon\nhigher and more weighty Considerations, [Sidenote: _Theology_ of the\n_Egyptians_, or _Metempsychosis_.] springing from the _Theology_ of the\n_Egyptians_, who as _Servius_ shews in his Comment on these words of\n_Virgil_, Lib. 3. _\u00c6neid._ where that Poet describes the Funeral of\n_Polydorus_,\nbeliev\u2019d, _That as long as the Body endur\u2019d so long should the Soul\ncontinue with it_, which also was the Opinion of the _Stoicks_: _Hence\nthe_ Egyptians, _skilful in Wisdom, keep their Dead_ embalm\u2019d _so much\nthe longer, to the end the Soul may for a long while continue with the\nBody, lest it should quickly pass into another. The_ Romans _acted quite\ncontrary, burning their Dead, that the Soul might suddenly return into\nthe generality of Things, that is, into its own Nature_; wherefore, says\n_Greaves_, that the Body might not either by Putrifaction be reduc\u2019d to\nDust, out of which it was first form\u2019d, or by Fire be converted to Ashes\n(as the manner of the _Greeks_ and _Romans_ was) the _Egyptians_\ninvented curious Compositions, besides intombing their Dead in stately\nRepositories, thereby to preserve them from Rottenness, and render them\nEternal. _Nec cremare, aut fodere fas putant, verum arte Medicatos intra\npenetralia collocant_, says _Pomponius Mela_, Lib. 1. cap. 9. Also\n_Herodotus_ in _Thalia_ gives the Reason why they neither burn\u2019d nor\nbury\u2019d their Dead, for discoursing in his third Book of the Cruelty of\n_Cambyses_, and his commanding the Body of _Amasis_, an _Egyptian_ King,\nshould be taken out of his Sepulchre, be whipp\u2019d and us\u2019d with all\ncontumely; he reports, after all this he order\u2019d it to be burn\u2019d,\n_Commanding that which was not Holy, for the_ Persians _imagin\u2019d the\nFire to be a God, [Sidenote: _Fire_ thought by the _Persians_ a _God_.]\nand neither the_ Egyptians _nor they were accustom\u2019d to burn their Dead:\nThe_ Persians, _for the Reason before alleg\u2019d, because they conceiv\u2019d it\nunfit for a God to devour the Carcass of a Man; and the_ Egyptians,\n_because they were persuaded the Fire was a living Creature, [Sidenote:\nBy the _Egyptians_ a living Creature.] devouring all Things it receiv\u2019d,\nand after it was satisfy\u2019d with Food, dy\u2019d with that it had devour\u2019d.\nNor was it their Custom to give their dead Bodies to Beasts (as the_\nHyrcanians _were wont to do) but to_ Embalm _or Salt them, not only for\nthis Reason, but also that they might not be consum\u2019d with Worms_. The\nterm \u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03b5\u1f7b\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, i. e. _Salting_ or _Embalming_ the Dead, us\u2019d by\n_Herodotus_, is also us\u2019d by _Baruch_ and _Plato_. _Lucian_ likewise in\nhis Discourse _de Luctu_, treating of the several kinds of Burial\npractis\u2019d by divers Nations, says, _The_ Grecians _burn their Dead, the_\nPersians _bury them, the_ Indians _anoint them with the Fat of Swine,\nthe_ Scythians _eat them, and the_ Egyptians (\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03b5\u1f7b\u03b5\u03b9) Embalm _them_:\nWhich manner likewise is alluded to by _M. Aurelius Antoninus_, under\nthe word \u03c4\u1f71\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2: His Words are these, _That which the other Day was\nexcrementitious Matter, shall within few Days either be_ \u03c4\u1f71\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2, _an_\nEmbalm\u2019d _Body, or down right Ashes_; in the one expressing the Custom\nof the _Egyptians_, and in the other that of the _Romans_. By Salting or\n_Embalming_ the Soul, according to the Belief of the _Egyptians_, was\noblig\u2019d to abide with the Body, and the Body on its part became as\ndurable as Marble, insomuch that _Plato_, who liv\u2019d in _Egypt_ with\n_Eudoxus_ no less than 13 Years, as _Strabo_ witnesses, brings it for an\nArgument, in his _Ph\u00e6don_, to prove the Immortality of the Soul, thro\u2019\nthe long duration of these Bodies, which surely would have been yet more\nconclusive with him, could he but have imagin\u2019d they should have\ncontinu\u2019d so solid and entire even to this Day, as we find many of them\nare: _For this Reason St._ Austin [Sidenote: _Egyptians_ believ\u2019d the\n_Resurrection_.] _truly affirms the_ Egyptians _had a Belief of the\nResurrection, in that they carefully preserv\u2019d their Dead; for they had\na Custom among them of drying up the Bodies, and rendring them as\ndurable as Brass_: These, in their Language they call\u2019d _Gabbares_,\nwhence the gloss of _Isidore_, _Gabbares mortuorum in Vulcanius_ his\nEdition, or as _Spondanus de C\u00e6met. sacris_, Lib. 1. pars 1. cap. 5.\nreads, _Gabbares mortuorum condita Corpora_.\nThe manner how the _Egyptians_ prepar\u2019d and _Embalm\u2019d_ these Bodies is\nvery copiously, and by what I observ\u2019d at my being there, says _Greaves_\nin his _Pyramidographia_, p. 48. faithfully describ\u2019d by _Herodotus_ and\n_Diodorus_; in which Matter, tho\u2019 I cannot totally dissent from Mr.\n_Greaves_, for their Account may be true, yet is it not so copious as\nthey make it, but imperfectly related, or at least so far that some\nPassages are hardly to be understood or made out, which may easily be\nallow\u2019d without Reflection on those famous Men, since they treated of\nthe Matter only as _Historians_ and not as _Physicians_: My business\ntherefore shall be, after relating their own Words, to reconcile their\nDifferences, explain the Difficulties, and compare the Opinions of\n_Annotators_ and _Physicians_ on this _Art_, and lastly, to suggest some\nnew Thoughts, as plausible, and perhaps as true as any, especially since\nit is all but guesswork, and the true _Art_ may have entirely perish\u2019d\nwith the antient _Egyptians_, either by Inundation, Fire, Irruptions of\nEnemies, or other hostile Devastations. I will begin first with\n_Herodotus_, whose Words serve as well to shew the several Ceremonies of\n_Sepulture_ as their _Embalmings_, and whom we find in his Second Book\ncall\u2019d _Euterpe_, thus speaking of the _Egyptians_:\n[Sidenote: _Herodotus_\u2019s Account of the _Egyptian Funerals_.]\n_Their Mourning_, says he, _and manner of Burial are after this kind:\nWhen any Man of Quality dies, all the Women of that Family besmear their\nHeads and Faces with Dirt; then leaving the Body at home, they go\nlamenting up and down the City with all their Relations, their Apparel\nbeing girt about them, and their Breasts left naked. On the other hand\nthe Men, having likewise their Cloaths girt about them, beat themselves.\nThese things being done, they carry the dead Body to be_ Embalm\u2019d; _for\nwhich, there are certain Persons appointed who profess this_ Art.\n_These, when the Body is brought to them, shew to those that bring it\ncertain Models of Wood, painted like the Dead Person that is to be_\nEmbalm\u2019d. _One of these they say is accurately made (which I think not\nlawful to name;) then they shew a second inferior to it and of an easier\nPrice, and next a third cheaper than the former, and of a very small\nvalue, which being seen, they ask them what Pattern they will have the\ndead Body prepar\u2019d by: When they have agreed on the Price they depart,\nand those with whom the dead Corps is left proceed to_ Embalm _it after\nthe following manner: First of all they, with a crooked Iron, draw the\nBrain out of the Head thro\u2019 the Nostrils, and then fill up the Cavity\nwith Medicinal Ingredients. Next, with a sharp_ \u00c6thiopic _Stone, they\ncut up that part of the_ Abdomen _call\u2019d the_ Ilia, _and that way draw\nout all the Bowels, which having cleans\u2019d and wash\u2019d with Palm-Wine,\nthey again rinse and wash with Wine perfum\u2019d with pounded Odours; then\nfilling up the Belly with pure_ Myrrh _and_ Cassia _grosly powder\u2019d, and\nall other Odours except_ Frankincense, _they sow it up again. Having so\ndone, they salt it up close with Nitre 70 Days, for longer they may not\nsalt it. After this number of Days are over, they wash the Corps again,\nand then roul it up with fine Linnen all besmear\u2019d with a sort of Gum\ncommonly us\u2019d by the_ Egyptians _instead of Glue. Then is the Body\nrestor\u2019d to its Relations, who prepare a wooden Coffin for it, in the\nshape and likeness of a Man, and then put the_ Embalm\u2019d _Body into it,\nand thus inclos\u2019d place it in a Repository in the House, setting it\nupright against the Wall. After this manner they with great expence\npreserve their Dead, whereas those who to avoid too great a Charge\ndesire a mediocrity, thus_ Embalm _them: They neither cut the Belly nor\npluck out the Entrails, but fill it with Clysters of Oil of_ Cedar\n_injected up the_ Anus, _and then salt it the aforesaid number of Days.\nOn the last of these they press out the_ Cedar _Clyster, by the same way\nthey had injected it, which has such Virtue and Efficacy that it brings\nout along with it the Bowels wasted, and the Nitre consumes the Flesh,\nleaving only the Skin and Bones: Having thus done, they restore the dead\nBody to the Relations, doing nothing more. The third way of_ Embalming\n_is for those of yet meaner Circumstances: They with Lotions wash the\nBelly, then dry it with Salt for 70 Days, and afterwards deliver it to\nbe carry\u2019d away. Nevertheless, beautiful Women and Ladies of Quality\nwere not deliver\u2019d to be_ Embalm\u2019d _till three or four Days after they\nhad been dead_. Ea de causa facientes, ne cum F\u00e6minis isti Salinarii\nconcumbant. Deprehensum enim quendam aiunt coeuntem cum recenti Cadavere\nMuliebri, delatumq; ab ejusdem Artificii Socio. _But if any_ Egyptian\n_or Stranger was either kill\u2019d by a Crocodile, or drown\u2019d in the River,\nthe City where he was cast up was to_ Embalm _and bury him honourably in\nthe Sacred Monuments, whom no one, no, not a Relation or Friend, but the\nPriests of_ Nile _only might touch, because they bury\u2019d one who was\nsomething more than a dead Man_.\n[Sidenote: _Diodorus Siculus_\u2019s Account of the _Egyptian Funerals_.]\n_Diodorus Siculus_, Lib. 1. relates the Funeral Ceremonies of the\n_Egyptians_ more distinctly and clearly, and with some very remarkable\nCircumstances. _When any one among the_ Egyptians _dies_, says he, _all\nhis Relations and Friends, putting Dirt upon their Heads, go lamenting\nabout the City, till such time as the Body shall be bury\u2019d. In the mean\ntime they abstain from Baths and Wine, and all kinds of delicate Meats,\nneither do they during that time wear any costly Apparel. The manner of\ntheir Burials is threefold; one very costly, a second sort less\nchargable, and a third very mean. In the first_, they say, _there is\nspent a Talent of Silver, in the second 20_ Min\u00e6, _but in the last there\nis very little Expence. Those who have the care of ordering the Body,\nare such as have been taught that Art by their Ancestors. These shewing\nto the Kindred of the Deceas\u2019d a Bill of Expences of each kind of\nBurial, ask them after what manner they will have the Body prepar\u2019d;\nwhen they have agreed upon the matter, they deliver the Body to such as\nare usually appointed for this Office. First he who has the name of\nScribe, laying it upon the Ground, marks about the Flank on the left\nside, how much is to be cut away. Then he who is call\u2019d the Cutter or\nDissector, with an_ \u00c6thiopic _Stone, cuts away as much of the Flesh as\nthe Law commands, and presently runs away as fast as he can: Those who\nare present persuing him, cast Stones at him, and curse him, hereby\nturning all the Execrations, which they imagin due to his Office, upon\nhim. For whosoever offers violence, wounds or does any kind of injury to\na Body of the same nature with himself they think him worthy of Hatred;\nbut those who are call\u2019d the_ Embalmers, _they esteem worthy of Honour\nand Respect: For they are familiar with their Priests, and go into the\nTemples as Holy Men, without any prohibition. So soon as they come to_\nEmbalm _the dissected Body, one of them thrusts his Hand thro\u2019 the Wound\ninto the_ Abdomen, _and draws forth all the Bowels but the Heart and\nKidnies, which another washes and cleanses with Wine made of Palms and\naromatic Odours. Lastly, having wash\u2019d the Body, they anoint it with Oil\nof Cedar and other Things for above 30 Days, and afterwards with Myrrh,\nCinamon and other such like Matters; which have not only a power to\npreserve it for a long Time, but also give it a sweet Smell; after which\nthey deliver it to the Kindred, in such manner that every Member remains\nwhole and entire, and no part of it chang\u2019d, but the beauty and shape of\nthe Face seems just as it was before, and may be known, even the Hairs\nof the Eye-Lids and Eye-Brows remaining as they were at first. By this\nmeans many of the_ Egyptians, _keeping the dead Bodies of their\nAncestors in magnificent Houses, so perfectly see the true Visage and\nCountenance of those that dy\u2019d many Ages before they themselves were\nborn, that in viewing the Proportions of every one of them, and the\nLineaments of their Faces, they take as much delight as if they were\nstill living among them. Moreover, the Friends and nearest Relations of\nthe Deceas\u2019d, for the greater Pomp of the Solemnity, acquaint the Judges\nand the rest of their Friends with the Time prefix\u2019d for the Funeral or\nDay of Sepulture, declaring that such a one (calling the Dead by his\nName) is such a Day to pass the Lake, at which Time above 40 Judges\nappear, and sit together in a Semicircle, in a place prepar\u2019d on the\nhither side of the Lake, where a Ship, provided before-hand by such as\nhave the care of the Business, is hal\u2019d up to the Shoar, and steer\u2019d by\na Pilot, whom the_ Egyptians _in their Language call_ Charon. _Hence,\nthey say_, Orpheus _upon seeing this Ceremony while he was in_ Egypt,\n_invented the Fable of Hell, partly imitating therein the People of_\nEgypt, _and partly adding somewhat of his own. The Ship being thus\nbrought to the Lake-side, before the Coffin is put on board, every one\nis at liberty by the Law to accuse the Dead of what he thinks him\nguilty. Now if any one proves he was an ill Liver, the Judges give\nSentence the Body shall be depriv\u2019d of Sepulture; but in case the\nInformer be convicted of false Accusation, then is he severely punish\u2019d.\nIf no Accuser appear, or the Information prove false, then all the\nKindred of the Deceas\u2019d leave off Mourning, and begin to set forth his\nPraises, yet say nothing of his Birth (as the Custom is among the_\nGreeks) _because the_ Egyptians _all think themselves equally Noble: But\nthen they recount how the Deceas\u2019d was educated from his Youth, and\nbrought up to Man\u2019s Estate, exalting his Piety towards the Gods and\nJustice towards Men, his Chastity and other Virtues, wherein he\nexcell\u2019d; and lastly, pray and call upon the Infernal Deities to receive\nhim into the Society of the Just. The common People take this from the\nothers, and consequently approve all is said in his Praise by a loud\nshout, setting likewise forth his Virtues in the highest strains of\nCommendation, as one that is to live for ever with the Infernal Gods.\nThen those that have Tombs of their own, interr the Corps in places\nappointed for that purpose, and they that have none, rear up the Body in\nits Coffin against some strong Wall of their House. But such as are\ndeny\u2019d Sepulture on account of some Crime or Debt, are laid up at home\nwithout Coffins: Yet when it shall afterwards happen that any of their\nPosterity grows Rich, he commonly pays off the deceas\u2019d Persons Debts,\nand gets his Crimes absolv\u2019d, and so buries him honourably, for the_\nEgyptians _are wont to boast of their Parents and Ancestors that were\nmagnificently bury\u2019d. \u2019Tis a Custom likewise among them to pawn the dead\nBodies of their Parents to their Creditors, but then those that do not\nredeem them fall under the greatest Disgrace imaginable, and are deny\u2019d\nBurial themselves at their Deaths._\n[Sidenote: Reflections on the _Egyptian Embalming_.]\nThus far _Herodotus_ and _Diodorus Siculus_ have given the largest and\nclearest Accounts of any of the Ancients of the Funeral Ceremonies and\n_Embalmings_ of the _Egyptians_, but there are still remaining some\ndubious and difficult Points necessary to be known, for the better\nunderstanding this _Art_: We shall make some Quere\u2019s and Reflexions\nthereon, and endeavour to reconcile them by the Opinions of the more\nrefin\u2019d Artists, the modern Physicians.\n[Sidenote: The _Mourning_ of the _Egyptians_.]\nFirst then of the Mourning of the _Egyptians_, by them very strictly\nobserv\u2019d for a long time, and perform\u2019d after the following manner: When\nany of their Kings dy\u2019d they lamented his Death with a general Mourning,\nmaking sad Lamentations, putting Dirt upon their Heads, rending their\nCloaths and beating their Breasts; they shut up their Temples and\nMarkets, and prohibited all Festivals and Rejoycings; they abstain\u2019d\nfrom all delicate Meats and costly Apparel, from Baths, Perfumes and\nOintments, and neither made their Beds nor accompany\u2019d with their Wives,\nbut express\u2019d all the signs of an extraordinary Affliction, that they\ncould have done for their own Child. This their Mourning continu\u2019d till\nthe Body was bury\u2019d, which was no less than 72 Days, during which, both\nMen and Women, and those about 2 or 300 in number, went about the City\ntwice a Day without any thing on but a Linnen-Cloath girt about their\nBodies, from beneath their Breasts downwards, renewing their Grief, and\nintermixing the Virtues and Praises of the deceas\u2019d Prince with their\nSighs and Outcries. Much the same Ceremonies were observ\u2019d in their\nprivate Funerals, some of which we shall insert from the Writings of the\nfamous _Don Antonio de Guevara_, Historiographer to the Emperor\n_Charles_ V. who in his 10th Letter, English\u2019d by Mr. _Savage_, thus\nwrites: \u2018Of all Nations, none we read of made so much adoe about their\nDead as the _Egyptians_, who, when ever a Friend dy\u2019d, always shew\u2019d him\nfar more Respect than while he liv\u2019d; insomuch that if a Father lost a\nSon, a Son a Father, or one Friend was depriv\u2019d of another, they us\u2019d to\nshave off half their Hair as a _Hieroglyphic_ to demonstrate they had\nparted with half of themselves. Also the _Egyptian_ Women, when their\nHusbands, Children or Relations dy\u2019d, were wont to tear their Flesh, and\nscratch their Faces with their Nails. Likewise the lesser Priests, at\nthe Funerals of the greater, were accustom\u2019d to mark their Flesh with\nred hot Irons, either on their Hands, Arms or Breasts, to the end that\nwhen ever they beheld those Scars they might immediately be dispos\u2019d to\nlament their loss. In like manner they had a Custom, that when ever a\nKing or Prince dy\u2019d, all his Officers were instantly oblig\u2019d to slash\nthemselves with Knives in some visible part of their Bodies; insomuch,\nthat he who was observ\u2019d to have most Wounds, was always look\u2019d upon to\nbe the greatest Mourner. All which Ceremonies being in themselves\nsuperstitious, and no doubt invented by the Devil, forasmuch as the\n_Egyptians_ were all naturally Necromancers, Magicians, Wizzards and\nAstrologers, and for that they were not only a damage to the Living, but\nalso no Advantage to the Dead; GOD forbad the Children of _Israel_ (who\nliving so long in _Egypt_, had contracted many ill Customs from those\nPeople) both marking and cutting their Flesh, as appears from\n_Leviticus_ 19. 27, 28. where he Commands the _Israelites_ neither to\n_round the Corners of their Heads, nor mar the Points of their Beards:\nTo make any Cuttings in their Flesh, or print any Marks upon it on\naccount of their Dead_.\u2019\n[Sidenote: How the _Egyptians Embalm\u2019d Bodies_.]\nThus _Herodotus_ and _Diodorus Siculus_ having first describ\u2019d the\nmanner of _Mourning_ among the _Egyptians_, they next proceed to give an\nAccount of their _Embalmings_, telling us, That whilst the Ceremonies of\n_Mourning_ were performing, they carry\u2019d the Dead to be _Embalm\u2019d_, as I\nsuppose, to a certain place appointed for that purpose, where Persons\nresided who profess\u2019d that Art, being well experienc\u2019d therein, and\ntaught it by their Ancestors. These show\u2019d the Relations or Persons that\nbrought the Body, and had commission for ordering the Funeral, certain\nModels or Patterns of Wood, painted in the likeness of _Embalm\u2019d_\nBodies, [Sidenote: Three different kinds of _Embalming_.] being of three\nseveral kinds and Prizes, suitable to every one\u2019s Condition and Quality;\nsome very Rich and Costly, others of a moderate Price, and a third sort\ncheaper and of very little Value. Having agreed upon the Sort and Price,\nthey immediately go about _Embalming_ the Body, and as _Herodotus_ tells\nus, first of all draw out the Brain, with a crooked Iron, thro\u2019 the\nNostrils, infusing in its place, by the same way, several Medicaments,\nwhich as it is contrary to our Custom of Dissection, that begins with\nthe _Abdomen_, seeing its Contents soonest putrifie and become offensive\neven in our cold Country, and much more would do in so hot a Climate as\nthat of _Egypt_, if neglected; so the extraction of the Brain, after the\nmanner propos\u2019d by him, is a very difficult and tedious piece of Work,\nif possible to be perform\u2019d at all; but his wrong beginning of this Work\nof _Embalming_ is not so material a Mistake, as his amusing us with a\nStory of drawing forth the Brain thro\u2019 the Nostrils with a crooked Iron,\n(by which I suppose he means some particular sort of Instrument) and not\nfarther explaining himself how or after what manner it was done; and\nindeed I believe he could not, the thing being in it self impracticable\nand ridiculous, which any one skill\u2019d in _Anatomy_ will readily agree\nto. But grant it could be done, the afore-said extraction of the Brain\nthro\u2019 the Nostrils, must nevertheless so dilacerate the cartilagineous\nparts of the Nose, that the carnous and cutaneous parts would sink, and\nthereby render the Face deform\u2019d. More agreeable therefore to Reason is\nwhat _Gryphius_ in _Tract. de Mum. Wratislav._ p. 45. asserts, That it\nmight be more commodiously extracted thro\u2019 a large _Foramen_, made in\nthe hinder part of the Head, near the upper _Vertebr\u00e6_ of the Neck; but\nthat this was not the right way neither, I am thoroughly convinc\u2019d from\nthe Skull of an _Embalm\u2019d_ Body I have by me, which has no such\nApertion. [Sidenote: The _Brain_ how extracted.] To reconcile therefore\nthis seeming difficulty, I will shew a Method how \u2019tis possible to be\nperform\u2019d by a convenient Instrument which I have devis\u2019d, and intend to\ndescribe in another Place, contenting my self here to tell you, That by\ninjecting Oil of _Cedar_, or the like corrosive Medicine thro\u2019 the\nNostrils, or thro\u2019 the Ears, by a Passage privately made into the Skull,\nthe Brain may be consum\u2019d and brought away, and the Skull, by injections\nof spirituous and aromatic Wines, be thoroughly wash\u2019d and cleans\u2019d; and\nlastly fill\u2019d with melted _Bitumen_ or sweet Balsams, that acquire a\nsolid Consistence when cold. And altho\u2019 _Greaves_ seems well satisfy\u2019d\nwith _Herodotus_\u2019s Account, yet is his Observation, _p._ 49. of his\n_Pyramidographia_, more agreeable to this Opinion of mine, where he\ntells us, That having caus\u2019d the Head of one of the richer sort of\n_Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies to be open\u2019d, he found in the hollow of the Skull the\nquantity of two pounds of Medicament, which had the consistence,\nblackness and smell of a kind of _Bitumen_ or Pitch, and by the heat of\nthe Sun was become soft.\n_Diodorus Siculus_ begins more methodically with the _Scribe_ or\n_Designer_, [Sidenote: The _Scribe_ or _Designer_.] an Officer so\ncall\u2019d, who draws upon a piece of Paper, or marks on the Body it self,\nthe part that was to be open\u2019d, _viz._ The Flank on the left side.\n[Sidenote: _Dissector._] Then the _Dissector_ made the Incision\n(_without cutting off any of the Flesh, or running away so soon as he\nhad done_) and thrusting his Hand into the Belly, drew out all the Guts,\nwhich, as _Plutarch_ writes, were cast into the River _Nile_, _Tanquam\ninquinamenta Corporis_, as defiling the Body: But _Diodorus_ tells us,\nThe Body was embowell\u2019d by one of the _Embalmers_, which altho\u2019 it\nappears to me a more filthy and detestable Work than making the\nIncision, [Sidenote: _Embalmers_ much honour\u2019d.] yet he says the\n_Embalmers_ were highly honour\u2019d and respected, being familiar with the\nPriests, and entring into the Temples as Holy Men, whereas he excludes\nthe _Dissectors_ from out of that number, as performing an odious\nOperation hateful to all Men. In this distinction however I am apt to\nthink he\u2019s either intirely out, or has mistaken it for just the\ncontrary; for, as we have already shown, _p._ 181. _Anatomy_ was not\nonly generally approv\u2019d, but likewise often perform\u2019d by Holy and Great\nMen, such as the _Egyptian_ Priests and Kings, who would either have\npractis\u2019d or taught better, in case it had been so heinous a Crime as\nthis Author makes it; whence, without doubt, those that did this pious\nand necessary Office towards preserving the Dead, must needs have been\nequally honour\u2019d with the _Embalmers_, and what seems yet clearly to\nconfirm this, is that sometimes the _Art of Embalming_ has been call\u2019d\n_Honesta Anatomia_.\nNow the Instrument with which this Incision was made was an _Ethiopic_\nStone call\u2019d _Basaltes_, [Sidenote: _Basaltes_ an _Ethiopic_ Stone.] and\nnam\u2019d from its hardness and colour like to Iron, that word in the\n_Ethiopic_ Language signifying Iron, and this Stone being much harder\nthan that Metal, it might very probably be whet to a keen edge or point,\nand so be ceremonially us\u2019d instead of an Incision-Knife, like as the\nantient _Jews_ were wont to use Knives made of Flints in their\nCircumcision, _Joshua_ 5. 2.\n[Sidenote: The _Embowelling_ a Corps.]\nAs to the Exenteration or Embowelling the Body, we are not to imagine\nthey drew out only the Brain and Guts, but likewise the Lungs, Stomach,\nLiver, Spleen, and other _Viscera_, except the Heart and Kidnies, which\nbeing carnous and fleshy might very likely be left, as being easier to\nbe preserv\u2019d than the moist parts. The former they might probably leave\nto be _Embalm\u2019d_, as being the principal Bowel of the whole Body, and\nsource of vital Heat (wherefore it has been frequently preserv\u2019d apart\nby several People) but for what Reason, or out of what Superstition they\nleft the latter I cannot readily conjecture.\nThen having empty\u2019d the Head, Breast and Belly of their Contents, they\nfirst wash\u2019d and cleans\u2019d them with Ph\u00e6nician or Palm-Wine, compounded\nof aromatic Spices and sweet Odours, [Sidenote: The _Body_ stuff\u2019d with\nmedicinal Ingredients.] and afterwards stuff\u2019d them with a mixture of\nsweet scented Drugs, Spices and Balsams, such as _Myrrh_, _Aloes_,\n_Saffron_, _Cassia_ or _Cinamon_, _Opobalsamum_ and the like,\n_Frankincense_ only being excepted, because that was by them consecrated\nto their Gods. These Ingredients had not only a power to preserve the\nBody for a long Time, but also gave it a sweet and agreeable Smell. This\ndone, they sew\u2019d up the Incision or Passage thro\u2019 which they drew forth\nthe Bowels; but _Antonius Santorellus_ in his _Post-Praxis Medica_, p.\n136. not without Reason observes, That tho\u2019 Aromatics are of a drying\nquality, yet as they are likewise heating, they may occasion a\nFermentation in the Body; therefore I am apt to think _Myrrh_ and\n_Aloes_ were the basis of the Composition, and that Aromatics were us\u2019d\nonly in small quantities, and that rather to conciliate a grateful Odour\nto the Body than preserve it from Putrifaction. Yet I am not ignorant at\nthe same time of what some alledge of Aromatics, that by their innate\nbalsamic Virtue, by their bitterness and oleaginous Sulphur, or\npenetrability of their volatil Salts, they resist Putrifaction. Neither\nam I ignorant of what _Bellonius_ affirms, Lib. 2. _De Medicato Funere_,\np. 27. that neither _Myrrh_, _Aloes_ nor _Saffron_ have so much Virtue\nas to consume the Humidity of a dead Body, nor being hard Bodies can\npenetrate so far as to enter the Bones and replete their Cavities.\nFurthermore asserting, That if _Aloes_ were us\u2019d in _Embalming_ they\nwould give the Body a bitter taste, whereas no Mummies have been ever\nfound to have such a taste; and this is also taken notice of, says the\naforesaid Author, by _Valerius Cordus_, one who wrote more truly of the\n_Mummies_ than all the Physicians of his Time had done: But I suppose\nboth these Learned Men spoke rather from their experience of common\nBodies, _Embalm\u2019d_ with _Cedar_, _Asphalt_ or _Pissasphalt_, than from\nthe Bodies of Princes and rich Men, which being _Embalm\u2019d_ after the\nbest manner, with odoriferous and aromatic Gums and Spices, had in that\nComposition a mixture of fine _Aloes_, and this any one will the readier\ngrant, who considers the manner of the [Sidenote: _Myrrh_, _Aloes_ and\n_Cinnamon_.] antient _Jews_ or _Hebrews_ _Embalming_ with _Myrrh_,\n_Aloes_ and _Cinamon_, which they learn\u2019d of the _Egyptians_ by living\nso long among them, chiefly differing in this, That the _Hebrews_\nAnointed or _Embalm\u2019d_ their Dead without Exenteration, thereby\nintending only to render the Body sweet and free from Putrifaction for a\nshort Time, or \u2019till its Burial, whereas the _Egyptians_ Embowell\u2019d and\n_Embalm\u2019d_ theirs for Eternity. But here still arises another\nControversie, _viz._ What is to be understood by the Word _Aloes_ in\nBalsamation? Whether _Agalochum_ or _Lignum Aloes_, a Wood of a very\npleasant smell, or _Aloes_, an express\u2019d Juice from the Leaves of a\nPlant, a Gum of a strong Odour? Most Annotators on the word _Aloes_,\nmention\u2019d in the Holy Scripture, as in _Prov._ 7. 17. _Cant._ 4. 14.\n_John_ 19. 39. interpret it the _Wood Aloes_, being an excellent sweet\nscented and aromatic Perfume; and since it is also of a bitterish Taste,\nand indu\u2019d with some balsamic Qualities, \u2019tis not absur\u2019d to think it\nwas us\u2019d together with other Ingredients in _Embalming_, yet according\nto a physical Judgment in this _Art_, we nevertheless believe that\n_Aloes_, the Gum or inspissate Juice of a Plant, so manifest for its\nextraordinary and incomparable bitterness and efficacy to resist\nPutrifaction, was one of the chief Ingredients in their Composition, for\notherwise the Scripture would have given a more peculiar signification\nof the Word, to distinguish the _Wood_ from the _Gum_: So that he who\ndetermines that both might have been apply\u2019d, one to correct the ill\nSavour of the other, may commit no great Mistake, or at least if he\nthinks, that the _Wood_ was chiefly us\u2019d in their perfuming Ointments,\nand the _Gum_ in their _Embalmings_.\nThe Body being stuff\u2019d full of aromatic and sweet Odours, they sew\u2019d it\nup again, and then salted it with _Nitre_ for the space of 70 Days, as\n_Herodotus_ relates; yet _Diodorus Siculus_ speaks nothing of this\nSalting, but in its stead substitutes the manner of Anointing: Both\nwhich Terms of _Salting_ and _Anointing_ Authors confound one with\nanother, and under the same denomination express two different\nOperations or Works, and yet seem to make them perform\u2019d by the same\nPersons: For those who are said to be the _Embalmers_, [Sidenote: The\n_Salters_ or _Pollinctors_.] are call\u2019d by some _Taricheut\u00e6_ or\n_Salitores_, _a verbo_ \u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03b5\u1f7b\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, _Salire_ or _Sale durare_, and by\nothers _Pollinctors_, _ab unguendis Cadaveribus quasi polluti, vel a\nverbo pollingere, quod est, polliendo ungere, vel Pellem ungere_, &c.\nwhose Office and Business was to exenterate or embowel the Body, to wash\nand cleanse it, and to salt and anoint it. These again, some say, were\nmuch honour\u2019d and respected, and others on the contrary, That they were\nso abominated that they would not suffer them to live in the City; which\nlatter I am most apt to believe, as performing a very vile and servile\nWork, therefore might well be look\u2019d upon as polluted Persons. Who then\nwere the true _Embalmers_, properly so call\u2019d, and had in most esteem, I\nshall anon show; but must first proceed to speak of their _Salination_,\nand the Virtues and Qualities of _Nitre_ and other Salts.\n[Sidenote: _Nitre_ why us\u2019d in _Embalming_.]\n\u2018_Bellonius_, Lib. 3. cap. 8. _De Medicato Funere_, tells us, the\n_Egyptians_ and other _Eastern_ Nations, attributed very great Virtues\nto _Nitre_ for preserving the Carcasses of the Dead, and that\nnotwithstanding other Salts and Aromatics, endu\u2019d with astringent and\nexsiccating Qualities, might have the same Virtue, yet since none were\nmore efficacious, _Embalmers_ or Salters were wont chiefly to use\n_Nitre_. Those both the _Greek_ Historians and Physicians have\nsufficiently describ\u2019d, but since they so disagree about this, I think\nit not improper to treat more particularly of it. _First_, _Herodotus_\ntells us, The _Egyptians_ salted the dead Body 70 Days, and afterwards\nadds the use and reason of it, because, says he, Salt consumes the\nFlesh, and leaves nothing behind it but Skin and Bones; whence it\nappears _Nitre_ was in very great esteem among them for preserving the\nDead. But now, says _Bellonius_, there is so great scarcity of _Nitre_\nin _Europe_, that no Physician can say he has ever seen the true, for\ncertainly a Man may be as well cheated in that Salt as in any Drugs now\ncommonly us\u2019d. Some there are who promiscuously use many Things instead\nof it, and others that as erroneously assert there are two sorts of it,\none factitious and another natural, and I very much wonder that several\nexcellent Physicians should not have taken notice, that the _Saltpetre_\nwe now-a-days use is not the true _Nitre_: Nor have any of the Ancients\ndistinguish\u2019d _Nitre_ into artificial and natural, one made by Art, and\nthe other a concrete Body dug out of the Earth; for all _Nitre_ is\ncertainly made by Art, after the manner of other Salts, and not\nconceal\u2019d in the Earth, but found above it. Nor is there any native\n_Nitre_ dug out of the Earth, altho\u2019 it may be made from Water; for\nRain-Water being the purest, lightest and sweetest of all Waters, makes\nthe best _Nitre_; so likewise does the _Nile_-Water, which from the\nforce of its Mud, soon condenses the _Nitre_. Now to know where _Nitre_\nmay be found, read _Theophrastus_, Lib. 3. cap. 22. who gives this as a\nvery plain Argument, That where _Palm-Trees_ grow in plenty, as they do\nin _Africa_, _Syria_, and the like Countries, there the Soil will always\nbe Nitrous; for tho\u2019 these Trees require the circum-ambient Air to be\nhot, that their Fruits may ripen, yet they nevertheless covet a salt\nSoil to refrigerate their Roots; whence we may gather that a Virtue in\nEarth to make _Nitre_ is more wanting than in Water: But in _Africa_\n_Nitre_ was cheaper than Salt, for tho\u2019 Salt was both artificially made\nand dug out of the Rock, yet by reason of a Tax and Duty upon it, it was\nnot so easie to be got as _Nitre_, which naturally concreted in the\nVallies, and might be had without any Expence; wherefore the _Arabians_,\nwho liv\u2019d not far from the Sea, and the _Egyptians_, who had _Nitre_ so\ncheap among them, us\u2019d it before Salt, which they were forc\u2019d to seek\nfor and get in more remote Places; nay, they us\u2019d to eat _Nitre_ with\ntheir Radishes and Pot-Herbs, after the same manner as we now do Salt.\nAnd thus, so soon as the Inhabitants had first made Trial of _Nitre_,\nusing it in their Bread, Pottage, Gruels, with their Flesh and other\nFood, and finding it wholesom, sought for no other Salt, but us\u2019d\n_Nitre_ in its stead, and taught the neighbouring Countries to do the\nlike. But the _Macedonians_ made their Bread with a sort of _Nitre_\ncall\u2019d, [Sidenote: _Chalastr\u00e6um Nitrum._] _Chalastr\u00e6um Nitrum_, _a\nChalastra Civitate_, Plin. 13. 10. a pure sort of _Saltpetre_, which,\nfor the most part, they rather chose to make use of than Salt. _Nitre_\ntook its rise in many parts of _Europe_, _Asia_ and _Africa_, but\nAuthors know that of one Country from another, by the goodness and\nbadness of it, tho\u2019 _Nitre_ in general be commended by all, [Sidenote:\n_Nitrum Berenicum._] and _Galen_ praises the _Nitre_ of _Berenice_ of\n_Pentapolis_ in _Egypt_.\n\u2018Those Springs call\u2019d by _Pliny_, _Fontes amari_, on the Shoar of the\n_Red-Sea_, would have had but little bitterness, had not the Soil been\nNitrous. All the Fountains likewise of _Arabia_ are bitterish, by reason\nof the nitrous Earth thro\u2019 which they pass, and that Lake near the City\nof _Chalastra_ in _Macedon_ affords much _Nitre_. [Sidenote: _Nitri\nspuma._] Authors call it _Nitri spuma_, _Aphronitrum_, and by several\nother Names. _Galen_ orders this stony Matter first to be burn\u2019d, and\nthen levigated to a Powder; whereby it plainly appears our _Saltpetre_\nis not _Nitre_. There is nothing more frequently mention\u2019d by\n_Absyrtus_, in his Book of Farriery, than _Nitre_; and it was also us\u2019d\nby _Ganea_, and the Skilful have observ\u2019d many Things to grow tender by\n_Nitre_, especially the Roots of Herbs, which are also made whiter by\nit, and Coleworts and Pot-Herbs greener.\u2019 Some call the Flower of the\n_Lapis Assius_, _Nitre_, a kind of Stone of which Coffins were formerly\nmade, which wasted dead Bodies: \u2018But I would advise the Reader, says\n_Bellonius_, not to believe that _Nitre_, which we speak of, to have any\naffinity with the Salt commonly so call\u2019d. [Sidenote: _Armenian Nitre._]\n_Avicenna_ prefers the _Armenian Nitre_ before the _Egyptian_, and\n_Dioscorides_ very much praises the _Nitre_ of _Buna_. [Sidenote:\n_Nitre_ of _Buna_.] The common People daily use the _Nitre_ of _Turkey_,\n[Sidenote: _Nitre_ of _Turkey_.] tho\u2019 we are nevertheless ignorant\nwhence it comes, and there is nothing more common among the Merchants of\n_Nitria_, _Memphis_, _Constantinople_ and _Damascus_ than what they\nvulgarly call _Natron_. It grows very plentifully in the _Eastern_\nCountries, and is much us\u2019d in Dying Silk and Wool. _Serapio_ also\nconfounds _Borax_, which the Goldsmiths use, with _Nitre_; but _Nitre_\nis truly made by the benefit of the Soil and the force of the hot Sun,\nwherefore \u2019tis call\u2019d by some of the _Greeks_ _Halmirhaga_, [Sidenote:\n_Halmirhaga._] deriving its Name partly from its bitterish Taste, and\npartly from its being got out of the Earth at _Nitria_, a City of\n_Egypt_, so call\u2019d from _Nitre_. At _Naucratis_ and _Memphis_ there are\nplaces where _Nitre_ grows, and where the Water is pour\u2019d into it like\nSea-Water into Salt-Pits. Between _Memphis_ and _Jerusalem_ we saw a\nDesart concreted with _Nitre_, from whence so great a quantity might be\ntaken, that many Ships might have been easily laden therewith; which\nDesart, so concreted with _Nitre_, was longer than half a Mile, and when\nI past by it in the Night-Time, I thought it had been cover\u2019d with Salt;\nand when the Moon shon, it rebounded up to the Pupils of my Eyes, and\ndazl\u2019d them with its splendor. In it Camels, Horses and Mules had left\nthe impression of their Footsteps, and when I lighted off my Horse and\nhad cut some of it up, I found it to be of the same kind which I had\nbefore seen at _Memphis_. _Nitre_ therefore is not dug out of a\nMountain, or found in the Cavity of a Subterranean Den, or any where\ncover\u2019d with Earth, but gather\u2019d up a concrete Body from the surface of\na Desart or solitary Place, and is to be ascrib\u2019d more to the Earth than\nWater, by reason the Earth has there a kind of nitrous Substance. When\nRain, Fountain or the _Nile_-Water has stood long in a Valley, it at\nlength becomes nitrous, by exhaling up to its self a salt Matter or\nSubstance from the bottom, which afterwards concretes, with the heat of\nthe Sun, and becomes much harder than Salt. The whole mass of _Nitre_ is\nnot concreted in one and the same Day, but gradually and by degrees\nincreases and becomes dry. The first Concretion has no great thickness,\nbut when wet again with other Water, it adds by little and little\nanother Covering. This growing harder and harder, so long concretes that\nit at last becomes a Foot and half thick, by which it comes to pass that\nthe Face of the _Nitre_ keeps a certain likeness to crusted _Cadmia_;\nfor the whole Mass consists of right courses in equal Circles, and is\nnot divided by intricate Windings, which Remark argues, that _Nitre_\narises from a level Superficies or concretes in a certain solitary\nPlace. Moreover the porous _Nitre_ is dissolv\u2019d in Water, but so that\nyou cannot see the least Settlement in it, altho\u2019 a great deal of an\nearthy Substance be found among it; and as a further Argument of the\nTruth of this, its very Ashes show it contains in it a great mixture of\nearthy Particles; for burning once a Pound of crude _Nitre_, I found\nfour Ounces of Ashes remain\u2019d, whereas our _Saltpetre_, if it but touch\nFire, immediately flames, and is in an instant resolv\u2019d into Air; whence\nwe collect, that it consists of very subtil Parts, for \u2019tis very pungent\non the Tongue, has great Tenuity, and plentifully provokes Spitle.\n[Sidenote: Three kinds of _Nitre_.] There are three sorts of _Nitre_,\nbut that which is of a Rose-colour, or whitish and porous like Sponge,\nsuch as is brought from the Islands of _Buna_, _Dioscorides_ prefers to\nthe rest, being hard and solid for the most part like that of _Egypt_,\nand which indurates into heaps like Stone, which therefore are call\u2019d by\nthe _Greeks_ \u0392\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03bf\u1f77, from the resemblance they have to Hills. The second\nsort of _Nitre_ is not so well distinguish\u2019d by _Dioscorides_ as by\n_Galen_, who is thought to have us\u2019d the name of _Spuma Nitri_ two ways,\nfirst by dividing the words, \u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03bd\u1f77\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5, and secondly, by compounding\nthem into \u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f79\u03bd\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, which distinction _Pliny_ also seems to have\nobserv\u2019d where he calls the _Spuma Nitri_ by the _Latin_ word\n_Operimentum_, interpreted by _Avicenna_\u2019s Annotator, _Capistrum Nitri_,\nnot because the _Nitre_ ferments or foams up in an old Valley, or that\nit is in it self a light Froth, but by reason the _Spume_ of _Nitre_\nlyes on the top of the _Nitre_, and flowers of it self in Nitre-Works or\nVallies in the Day-Time; for _Nitre_ flowers with the Dew which falls in\nthe Night, and then increases its Superficies and is perfected in the\nDay-Time, which Covering therefore is rightly call\u2019d by _Avicenna_\u2019s\nInterpreter _Capistrum_, but better by _Pliny_, _Operimentum_. Of this\n_Dioscorides_ thus writes: [Sidenote: _Spuma Nitri._] \u2018That _Spuma\nNitri_ is best which is lightest, friable, biting and of a purplish\nColour, such as is brought from _Philadelphia_ in _Lydia_. The second\nsort is that of _Egypt_, which likewise is to be had in _Magnetia_ in\n_Caria_.\u2019 How this Efflorenscence which _Pliny_ sometimes calls\n_Operimentum_, sometimes _Spuma Nitri_, and at other times\n_Aphronitrum_, is generated, we have shewn before, so shall next show\nwhat _Aphronitrum_ is, for I distinguish between _Aphronitrum_ and\n_Spuma Nitri_, that is, the _Operimentum_ or Covering. But _Pliny_\nconfounds _Aphronitrum_ and _Nitrum_ together, so that I really believe\nboth _Pliny_ and _Serapio_ have taken what they have written of this\nMatter from the same Fountains; for _Serapio_ speaking of _Nitre_ says,\nThere are two sorts of it, one call\u2019d _Nitre_, which is _Saltpetre_, of\na reddish Colour, saltish and bitterish Taste, soon discovering its\nburning Quality, [Sidenote: _Borax._] and another sort call\u2019d _Borax_,\nus\u2019d by the Inhabitants of _Yaya_ in working up their Bread, to make it\nlook clear after \u2019tis bak\u2019d. But that sort call\u2019d artificial _Borax_ is\nan incisive and abstersive _Saltpetre_, made from a nitrous Matter,\nbeing a mixture of Lead and _Kali_ mingl\u2019d together and put over the\nFire, and this seems to be nothing else but that which the Goldsmiths\nuse. _Rhasis_ also is in a manner of the same Opinion with _Serapio_,\nfor he says, of the two sorts of _Borax_, that which is made\nartificially, and is white and froathy, is much better than that of an\nearthy colour and dusty. It is from this that _Tincar_ is made and\nseal\u2019d. [Sidenote: _Tincar._] _Pliny_ has not omitted to mention this\nsealing as _Galen_ and _Dioscorides_ have likewise done, therefore I\nwill insert his Words the better to show that his sealing of _Tincar_ is\nthe same with that of the _Arabians_. The next Age of _Physicians_, says\nhe, deliver\u2019d that _Aphronitrum_ was gather\u2019d in _Asia_, distilling into\nsoft Caves or Dens, which they call\u2019d _Colyc\u00e6_, and afterwards dry\u2019d in\nthe Sun. The best sort is that of _Lydia_, which is very light and\nfriable, and almost of a purplish Colour, and brought thence in little\nCakes or Trochisks, which words seem intirely to answer those of the\n_Arabian_; for, What can this Author mean by Trochisks, but the same\nthing which _Serapio_ calls little seal\u2019d Pieces? But _Rhasis_ adds,\nThat the _Egyptian Nitre_ was brought in Vessels pitch\u2019d over, least it\nshould melt; and _Pliny_ shows, that the next Age of Physicians\ndeliver\u2019d it was gather\u2019d in _Asia_. Perhaps in the Time of\n_Dioscorides_, and also before his Time, they did not use to Seal the\n_Spuma Nitri_ and _Aphronitrum_. [Sidenote: _Lydian Nitre._] _Pliny_\ngives the Preference to the _Lydian_, and, moreover, when he describes\nthe Marks of chusing it, he gives the same to the _Aphronitrum_ as\n_Dioscorides_ does to his \u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f79\u03bd\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd. But that I may speak freely what I\nknow of those three, they all proceed from the same Mass, altho\u2019 from\nthe different Places and Earth, they acquire a different colour, for\nsome are of a Rose-colour, and others white. The _Operimentum_ or\nCovering falls in _Lydia_ and _Egypt_. The greatest use of _Nitre_ in\n_Laconia_ is for scouring Bodies. But since the Mass of _Nitre_, when\nlong kept in Houses, consumes and wastes away by degrees, insomuch that\nthat which was before hard, becomes gradually soft and crumbling,\nmore-especially if it be kept in a moist place, nevertheless it does not\ndiscontinue being a Mass or Lump, but only becomes softer than _Nitre_.\nPhysicians, when they remark or take notice as it were of a certain kind\nof _Metamorphosis_, of that which was before hard, so easily to become\nsofter, think its Name ought to be chang\u2019d, and its Virtues ascrib\u2019d\napart. But that which I have said concerning the alteration of _Nitre_,\nI have found true by experience, in some I brought with me out of the\nEastern-Countries; for having given a great part of it to my Friends,\nsome of them complain\u2019d it was turn\u2019d to Powder, and others, who had\nkept it in a moister place, that it was grown softer, and had chang\u2019d\nits Colour. _Pliny_, Lib. 31. cap. 10. says, The Nature of _Nitre_ is\nnot to be esteem\u2019d very different from Salt, and this he the more\ndiligently asserts, inasmuch as those Physicians who have written of it,\nwere ignorant of its true Nature, altho\u2019 none has written more carefully\nof it than _Theophrastus_. He says, moreover, some _Nitre_ is made in\n_Media_, the Vallies growing white and hoary with dryness. After the\nRain or Fountain-Water is exhal\u2019d from it, it is condens\u2019d by the Soil,\nand converted into _Nitre_. Hence appears, as I said before, that those\nare very much deceiv\u2019d, who report _Nitre_ to be a certain Subterranean\nMatter like to Metal. _Pliny_ afterwards adds, That the sort of _Nitre_\ncall\u2019d _Agrium_, in _Thrace_ near _Philippi_, is less mix\u2019d with Earth\nthan any other sort; but I dare affirm _Nitre_ is now no longer made in\n_Thrace_, for when I travell\u2019d thither, and to and fro in the\n_Philippian_ Country, that I might see this _Nitre_, I could find none\neither about the Ruins of the before-mention\u2019d City or the adjacent\nRegion. [Sidenote: _Chalastr\u00e6um Nitrum._] The _Chalastr\u00e6um Nitre_ took\nits Name from the City _Chalastra_. This I believe to be that sort which\n_Alexander_ call\u2019d _Bucephalum_, from the Name of his Horse. Nitrous\nWaters, says _Pliny_, are found in many places, but without any Power of\ncondensing, which agrees with what I have already said, that all nitrous\nWaters will not make _Nitre_; so likewise all nitrous Earth, altho\u2019\nWater be pour\u2019d over it, will not make _Nitre_, for \u2019tis necessary it\nshould have a Virtue of thickning by the Sun, therefore this Virtue is\nbeliev\u2019d not to be wanting in the Water, but in the Earth, for \u2019tis\ncertain _Nitre_ may be made out of the lightest, purest and sweetest\nWater. _Nitre_ is very heavy in it self, for it sinks in Water like a\nStone. The best _Nitre_, says _Pliny_, is very plentiful in _Macedonia_,\n[Sidenote: _Nitrum Chalastricum._] and is call\u2019d _Chalastricum_, being\nwhite and pure like to Salt. The Lake is nitrous, and out of its middle\na sweet Fountain flows; there _Nitre_ swims, about the rising of the\nDog-Star, for nine Days together, and in as many ceases, then swims\nagain, and afterwards ceases again, by which \u2019tis apparent the heat of\nthe Sun condenses the _Nitre_, provided the Nature of the Soil be\nanswerable, as _Pliny_ witnesses in these words: The Nature of the Soil\nis what breeds _Nitre_, as is apparent, in that where it is wanting,\nneither Salts nor Showers avail any thing. This is also very wonderful,\nthat tho\u2019 the Spring be always seen to flow, yet neither does it\nincrease the Lake nor run over; but if it Rains in those Days in which\nit is bred, the _Nitre_ will become more Salt, and worse if the\n_North_-Winds happen to blow, for they violently stir up the Mud: In\nthis place indeed \u2019tis produc\u2019d, but more plentifully in _Egypt_,\n[Sidenote: _Egyptian Nitre._] tho\u2019 a worser sort, for \u2019tis of a dark\ncolour and stony. It is made almost in the same manner with Salt, only\nthey let the Sea run into their Salt-Pits, but the River _Nile_ into\ntheir _Nitre_-Works. The _Nile_-Water being drawn off they dry it, and\nagain infuse it in _Nitre_-Water 40 Days successively, but if it Rains\nthey add less of the River-Water. So soon as it begins to condense, it\nis taken away least it should be dissolv\u2019d in their _Nitre_-Works, but\nif laid up in heaps it will keep. Thus much _Pliny_ speaks of _Nitre_,\nwhich abundantly shows it is no where dug in any Mountain or Soil, but\nas I have shown before, immediately so soon as it has begun to condense,\nand it Rains, they take it away, and lay it up in heaps, that it may\nlast, for otherwise it would be melted by the Rain in their\n_Nitre_-Works. What _Pliny_ says afterwards seems obscure, _viz._ That\nthe thinnest part of _Nitre_ is best, and consequently the\nEfflorenscence is better, nevertheless the foul sort is useful for some\nThings, as for dying Purples, Scarlets, _&c._ by which words \u2019tis\nevident he means two sorts of _Nitre_, one very fine call\u2019d _Spuma\nNitri_, [Sidenote: _Spuma Nitri._] which he prefers for the best, and\nanother course, us\u2019d for dying Colours. The _Nitre_-Works in _Egypt_ are\nvery famous, and were wont to be only about _Naucratis_ and _Memphis_:\nThe worst are about _Memphis_, for there it lapifies in heaps, and from\nthat cause many Hillocks are stony, of which they make Vessels. They\nalso very frequently boil it with Sulphur upon Coals till it is melted;\nand use it in those things they would have keep a long while. There are\n_Nitre_-Works where it comes out reddish from the colour of the Earth.\nThus far of _Nitre_; next _Pliny_ mightily commends the Efflorenscence\nof _Nitre_, yet says, The Ancients deny\u2019d it could be made, but only\nwhen the Dew fell and the _Nitre_-Places were pregnant, but not when\nthey brought forth, therefore could not be done by hastning or stirring\nup altho\u2019 it fell. Others think it was bred by Fermentation, _&c._\u2019 Thus\nfar of _Nitre_ according to _Bellonius_, _Pliny_ and others.\n[Sidenote: _Pickle_ made of _Nitre_.]\nNow this is generally agreed on, that after the Body was stuff\u2019d with\nsweet Odours, Gums and Spices, it was macerated in a sort of Pickle, the\nComposition of which, tho\u2019 unknown to us, is asserted by most of the\nAncients to be made of _Nitre_. Nor is it proper for us, say _Penicher_,\n_Traite des Embaumemens_, p. 83. to explain one Obscurity by another\nthat is greater; since this _Nitre_, so famous and mightily boasted of\nby the Ancients, is at this Day a Mistery, for the more one endeavours\nto show its Origin, by examining the different Descriptions given it,\nthe more reason one has to doubt of its Existence. In the first place,\nthey agree not in one point among themselves, [Sidenote: Different\n_Opinions_ of _Nitre_.] either as to its Colour, Figure or Quality; for\nsome say \u2019tis white, others that \u2019tis red, and others again that \u2019tis of\na Leaden or Ash-colour: Some there are who will have it of a porous\nSubstance like a Sponge, others that \u2019tis solid and compact, and others\nthat \u2019tis shining and transparent like to Glass. Nor do they less\ndissagree about its Virtue than its Form and Colour, for some say \u2019tis\nof a cold Nature, and others that it has a Caustic Quality, as\n_Herodotus_, who says, that it consumes the Flesh in such manner that it\nleaves nothing but Skin and Bones. Wherefore, after so many\nContradictions and different Descriptions of the nature of this Mineral,\nwhat can we believe for certain? Have we not just reason to doubt that\nthis _Nitre_ is but pretended? How should it come to be invisible if it\nwere a Mineral? And again why should we not have it, if it be produc\u2019d\nafter the manner of our common Salt? The Sun, Moon and other Planets, as\nalso the Earth have not ceas\u2019d since their Creation to obey yearly such\nOrders as the Divine Providence has prescrib\u2019d them, and their\nProductions have daily been the same from one Age to another. The Earth\nis the same Matrix for the formation of Vegetables and Minerals, and the\nSun has not refus\u2019d its Influences for their Generation. What therefore\ncan be the reason, or by what accident should we at present be depriv\u2019d\nof so precious a Salt? We cannot see why it should be so lost as never\nto be repair\u2019d; but it is also reported that the true _Cinnamon_,\n_Bdellium_, _Costus Amomum_, _Balsamum verum_, _Malobathrum_, _Sal\nArmoniac_, _Myrrha_, and several Minerals, Gums and Plants are lost, yet\ncertainly it is not so, but only the Knowledge and Use of them lost to\nmany People; or perhaps they may not be found in those places where they\nwere wont to grow, yet may be had in others, which often happens; so\nthat they do not entirely Perish, but only change their Soil, by which\nmeans it may come to pass they may not commonly be known, and sometimes\nit happens they appear with a different Face, by reason of the diversity\nof the Place and temperature of the Heavens; wherefore, as St.\n_Chrisostom_ rightly concludes, none of those Substances or kinds of\nThings, which GOD has created from the beginning of the World, have ever\nbeen wanting or will ever perish. _Et Benedixit illa DEUS, & dixit,\nCrescite & multiplicamini: Verbum enim illud in pr\u00e6sentem usq; diem illa\nconservat, & tantum Tempus pr\u00e6teriit, neq; unum horum Genus imminutum\nest; nam Benedictio DEI, & Verbum quod dixerat, ut subsisterent &\ndurarent, illis contulit._ _And GOD Blessed them and said, Be fruitful\nand multiply: Which Word has preserv\u2019d them even to this present Day, so\nthat the Time only is pass\u2019d away, but not the least kind of them has\nperish\u2019d; for the Blessing of GOD, and the Words which he spake, made\nthem that they should endure for ever._\n[Sidenote: The _Nitre_ of the _Ancients_ the same with our _Saltpetre_.]\nThe _Nitre_ therefore of the Ancients so renown\u2019d, may be the same with\nour _Saltpetre_, as _Schroder_ and the learned _Etmuller_ think, and\n_Clarke_ more particularly in his _Natural History_ of _Nitre_, p. 12.\nasserts, That the _Nitre_ of the Ancients is the same with Ours: In\nwhich, says he, altho\u2019 we dissent from some learned Philosophers, as\n_Matthiolus_, _Bellonius_, &c. yet are there others as learned with whom\nwe agree, such as _Cardanus_, _Casimirus Siemienowicz Eques Lithuanus_,\nand more particularly also may be mention\u2019d the Ingenious Mr. _Henshaw_,\nwho has learnedly prov\u2019d this Assertion to the _Royal Society_. But not\nto inforce this Opinion only by Authority but Reason, we affirm this to\nbe the same from its Nature; for the Thing is yet in Being, and this\nbearing its Name may not unjustly challenge its Nature: And that this\nwas known to the Ancients (as we affirm their _Nitre_ is to us) the\nTestimony of _Pliny_ plainly evinces, as the before-mention\u2019d learned\nAuthor _Casimirus_ observes, _viz._ _Aperte enim Salem hunc, qui in\nCavernis sua sponte in Rupium Superficies erumpebat, Florem & Spumam\nNitri, Salemq; petrosum vel Petr\u00e6 nominat_. But the Ancients seem not to\nobserve this \u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f79\u03bd\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd or Efflorenscence of _Nitre_ on Walls, and in\nHouses on Floors, as we do, they having had it in open Fields, tho\u2019 we\nhave not, neither was it so much in use with them as with us, and this\ngave occasion for the new Name of _Sal-petr\u00e6_ to be given to the old\n_Nitre_. Now, tho\u2019 by _Pliny_\u2019s and other antient Authors descriptions\nof _Nitre_, when compar\u2019d with ours, they may seem to differ, yet may it\nnot be a real difference, but only in degrees of purity, the like\nwhereof we may see in Sugar and Salt, which by artificial Refining are\nmade one and the same; and as it bears the same Name, so has it the same\nQualities and Virtues, and was antiently us\u2019d both by _Galenists_ and\n_Chymists_. [Sidenote: _Nitre_ us\u2019d in _Cookery_.] Now it was this no\ndoubt the Ancients us\u2019d in their Aliments instead of common Salt; and\n\u2019tis by some affirm\u2019d that Roots grow whiter if boil\u2019d therewith, and\nHerbs greener: Moreover, \u2019tis well known to us Moderns that _Nitre_ or\nits Salt, separated in the Refining, gives a red colour to\nNeats-Tongues, Coller\u2019d Beef, Bacon, _&c._ adding to it also a more\nsavoury Taste, which does thereby both invite and please the Appetite.\nThus far of _Nitre_ according to the several Opinions of the\nbefore-mention\u2019d Authors; but what the Composition was, wherewith the\nAncients pickl\u2019d the Body, whether with _Nitre_ or Salt, is not as yet\ndetermin\u2019d. _Herodotus_ and divers others affirm it was salted with\n_Nitre_, yet some think the Virtue of Salt more commendable, finding it\nof so great use in preserving Flesh and Fish; others again do not think\nBodies become unperishable by Salting, but are only preserv\u2019d for some\nMonths or Years, and if fresh Pickle be not added, or any part of the\nBody happen to be expos\u2019d to the Air, it soon corrupts and stinks, for\nthe Moisture of the Air dissolves the imbib\u2019d Salt, and this issuing\nforth the Body soon perishes. This is farther remarkable from a Story of\n_Baronius_ in his Annals, [Sidenote: A _Body_ found _Preserv\u2019d_ in a\n_Salt-Pit_.] of a Body found in a Subterranean Cave, full of salt Water,\nin the Mountains of _Saltzburg_, which was whole and incorrupt, the Skin\nwhite, the Eyes open and lively, and the whole remaining, with all its\nparts, firm and hard as a Stone, yet in three Days Time, being as it\nwere impatient of the Air, it turn\u2019d into Water and perish\u2019d. From this\nStory we may learn that salted Bodies, altho\u2019 they resist Corruption for\na short Time, yet at length perish; [Sidenote: _Salt_ us\u2019d with\n_Balsamics_ preserves _Bodies_.] nevertheless Salt, or such things as\nare Analagous to it, if us\u2019d with other Balsamics, afford some help in\nthe _Embalming_ of Bodies, whereby they are not dispos\u2019d to the same\nFluxion, as both Reason and Experience teach, and perhaps _Nitre_ being\na more solid Body and not so apt to dissolve in the Air, might also on\nthat account be preferr\u2019d by the _Egyptians_. However, whether _Salt_ or\n_Nitre_ be to be understood by this Work of _Salination_ needs not much\nto be disputed, since both, by their known balsamic Virtue and innate\nSiccity, may assist in this Operation, even as in the preparing\n_English_ Hams, _&c._ we are wont to use them mix\u2019d together, the one\nperhaps being more peircing and the other more durable, the former to\ngive a grateful Taste, and the latter a pleasant Colour. But, as we\ncannot readily grant, that the _Salting_ us\u2019d by the _Egyptians_, was\neffectual enough to preserve Bodies without Balsamic Medicines, so\nneither can we, that any means besides could hinder its Extraction or\nDissolution, and therefore I am the more inclinable to think, _First_,\nThat they did not drysalt the Body, but macerated it in a liquid Pickle,\nwhich equally surrounded it every-where, and peirc\u2019d deeper thro\u2019 the\nPores of the Skin; and when they had let it infuse for a convenient\nTime, they anointed it with Oil of _Cedar_ for 30 Days together, as\n_Diodorus Siculus_ relates, and afterwards with _Myrrh_, _Cinamon_ and\nother Drugs, which Salting and Anointing took up in all 70 Days,\naccording to the Account of _Herodotus_. The latter Ointment was us\u2019d as\nwell to give the Body a sweet Smell as to Preserve it; but, tho\u2019 the\nformer was held of great efficacy for that purpose, yet is it a thing as\ndifficult to recover in these our Times, says _Penicher_, as it is to\nfind out the Composition of the Pickle we have been speaking of,\nnevertheless we must make some attempt therein. First then, we will take\nnotice of the different Appellations, by which the Ancients have us\u2019d to\nexpress this Matter, calling it by the several names of a Gum or Rosin,\na Liquor or Juice, an Oil or Ointment, and lastly a Pitch; [Sidenote:\n_Cedria_ what.] but which of all these they meant by the Word _Cedria_\nwill be better understood from a Description of that Tree, together with\nthe several sorts of Juices extracted from it, and their Uses and\nVirtues. \u2019Tis true, as some Authors have said, a Matter so call\u2019d may be\ndrawn from other Trees, such as _Larch_, _Pine_, _Birch_, _Cypress_ and\n_Juniper_; but that which we mean is from the great _Cedar_, whose\nLeaves never fall, and which bears Fruit all the Year round. Its Wood,\nof all others, is esteem\u2019d the least corruptible, and consequently, says\n_Pierius_, is the _Hieroglyphic_ of Eternity. The Ark of the Covenant,\nthe Temple of _Solomon_, and that of _Diana_ at _Ephesus_, were all\nbuilt with it, and for the same reason the _Egyptians_ often made their\nCoffins of it: The Ancients also us\u2019d to anoint the Leaves and Covers of\ntheir Books with its Oil, thereby to defend them from Moths, Worms and\nthe injuries of Time, whence it came to be spoken Proverbially of such a\none as had deserv\u2019d to be recorded to Posterity, _Cedro digna locutus_,\nin that his Writings were thereby preserv\u2019d from perishing. Now this\nTree affords three or four different sorts of Liquors or Juices:\n_First_, A thick, but clear Gum, of a good tho\u2019 strong Odour, being a\nTear that drops from young _Cedars_ after their Barks are pill\u2019d off,\nand this is what they properly call\u2019d _Cedria_. [Sidenote: _Gum_ of\n_Cedar_.] _Secondly_, A sort of Liquor drawn from the said Wood,\n[Sidenote: _Liquor_ of _Cedar_.] call\u2019d by the _Syrians_ _Cedrum_, and\nwhich are the first droppings of these Branches of _Cedar_ when one\nburns them, for that which comes last is the _Pitch_ of _Cedar_,\n[Sidenote: _Pitch_ of _Cedar_.] being prepar\u2019d after the same manner\nwith other Pitch, as you may find describ\u2019d in _Bellonius de Medic.\nFuner._ p. 40. _Lastly_, There is an _Oil_ of _Cedar_, [Sidenote: _Oil_\nof _Cedar_.] express\u2019d from the warm\u2019d Fruit of this Tree, and call\u2019d by\n_Pliny_ and _Delachampius_, _Cedrel\u00e6on_, as it were _Cedri-oleum_. These\nseveral Liquors have been so confounded by Authors, as to have been\ntaken indifferently for one another, which perhaps was because they have\nalmost all the same Virtues; yet I suppose the _Egyptians_ might adapt\nthe Use of them according to their several Consistencies, and therefore\nemploy\u2019d the Gum with other Drugs in stuffing the Body, the first\ndistill\u2019d Liquor in their Injections, and the _Oil_, as more valuable,\nfor their Anointings; or else might use the _Tar_ or _Pitch_ after the\nsame manner as _Asphalt_ and _Pissasphalt_, for the inferior sort of\nPeople. [Sidenote: _Virtues_ of _Cedar_.] Now in respect to the Virtues\nof _Cedar_, besides that it heats and drys powerfully, it has likewise\nthis particular and remarkable Quality, that after the nature of Septic\nand Escharotic Medicines, it corrodes and consumes the Flesh in a very\nshort Time, if apply\u2019d to a living Body; but, on the contrary, is a\nsovereign Preservative for the same Body the very moment \u2019tis depriv\u2019d\nof Life; for consisting of hot, dry and subtil Parts, it consumes all\nsuperfluous Humidity, the cause of Putrifaction, and thereby preserves\nthe dead Body, whereas in living Creatures, being rarify\u2019d and put in\naction by the natural Heat, it disunites their Parts and consumes them.\nThose antient Physicians _Dioscorides_, _Galen_, _Paulus_, _Aetius_ and\n_Aegineta_ have all asserted, That the Nature of _Cedar_ was such as to\npreserve dead Bodies, but would consume the Living, whereupon, they not\nwithout reason have term\u2019d it, _The Life of the Dead_, and _The Death of\nthe Living_. Likewise _Diodorus Siculus_ tells us, the _Egyptians_\nanointed the Bodies they were to _Embalm_ with Oil or Ointment of\n_Cedar_, for the space of 30 Days; whereas, _Herodotus_ gives us a quite\ndifferent Account, how that, without cutting open the Belly and pulling\nout the Entrails, [Sidenote: _Clysters_ of _Cedar_ and their\n_Operation_.] they injected up the _Anus_ Clysters of Oil or Juice of\n_Cedar_, and then salted the Body 70 Days, at the end of which they\nsqueez\u2019d out the Clysters, which had such Virtue and Efficacy, that they\nbrought away with them all the Guts and Bowels wasted. But in answer to\nthis, _Clauder in Methodo Balsamandi_, p. 58. says, he cannot but\nbelieve that this Author had forgot to mention somewhat necessary to be\ndone besides, and _Nardius_ laughs at it as a ridiculous Story, to\nimagine how these Clysters should spare the fleshy Parts, but rot the\nBowels. But grant an intire Efficacy to this Balsamic Liquor, thus\nClysterwise immitted into the Intestins, yet since it is well known to\nPhysicians, that Medicines, this way exhibited to the Dead, immediately\nflow out again, the nervous and fibrous Parts, which before were us\u2019d to\nretain them, operate no longer by reason of their Stupor and defect of\nSpirits. I cannot see, says _Clauder_, how a Clyster can be contain\u2019d in\na dead body so as to perform its Work, or if it should be intruded up by\nforce, it cannot so quickly penetrate to the superior Parts; for it must\nwaste the _Mesentery_, _Liver_, _Spleen_, _Stomach_ and _Guts_ before it\ncan ascend into the Cavity of the Breast, by which time its Contents\nwill be putrify\u2019d, and that more-especially since nothing besides was\ndone to prevent Corruption, but an external _Salting_. Wherefore, as was\nsaid before, he must needs have mistaken the Process, and perhaps if\nBodies were _Embalm\u2019d_ this way with _Cedar_ (which _Nardius_ utterly\ndenies) without Incision and Exenteration, it might be perform\u2019d by\nfilling the Head, Breast and Belly with Pitch of _Cedar_ (the way of\ndoing which I shall hereafter show) and then infusing and macerating the\nBody in its liquid Juice or Oil: And that the _Egyptians_ us\u2019d to\n_Embalm_ Bodies with _Cedar_, appears farther from their preserving\n_Crocodiles_, _Hawks_ and other Animals, [Sidenote: _Animals Embalm\u2019d_\nwith _Cedar_.] which they worshipp\u2019d, with _Nitre_ and the Liquor of\n_Cedar_, and afterwards anointing them with odoriferous Unguents, they\nbury\u2019d them in Sacred Places: _Diodorus Siculus_, Lib. 5. cap. 2. says,\nthe _Gauls_ were wont to deposite the Heads of their slain Enemies, that\nwere of any Quality, in Chests, having first _Embalm\u2019d_ them with Oil of\n_Cedar_, &c.\nThe third sort of _Embalming_, us\u2019d for the poorer sort of People, was\nperform\u2019d, as _Herodotus_ tells us, by washing the Belly, and then\ndrying it with Salt for 70 Days, after which \u2019twas deliver\u2019d to be\ncarry\u2019d away. Now, as _Clauder_ says, if this was done without\nExenteration, it appears the least probable of all, as daily experience\nshows; therefore we must look on that Historian as too credulous in the\nRelation of some Things, and perhaps as one that had forgot other\nOperations to be done, or medicinal Species to be added: But if the\nBelly was open\u2019d and thoroughly wash\u2019d and cleans\u2019d, the Bowels flung\ninto the River or else bury\u2019d, and the Vessels empty\u2019d of their Blood\nand Juices, and then the Body salted and dry\u2019d in the Sun, it might\nprobably be render\u2019d very hard and durable, and not liable to dissolve\nor melt by any Damps or Moisture, _Egypt_ being a warm Country, and\nenjoying a perpetual Serenity of Air, even as Flesh and Fish when salted\nand dry\u2019d in the Wind, Sun or Smoak, _&c._ may be preserv\u2019d for some\nYears, if kept in a dry and warm place. _Diodorus Siculus_ speaks\nnothing of this third sort of _Embalming_, and _Gabriel Clauder_,\n_Johannes Nardius_, _Bellonius_, and other Physicians assert, there were\nonly two sorts, [Sidenote: Only two sorts of _Embalming_.] one for the\nRich and Noble, perform\u2019d after a more accurate and costly manner, and\nanother more vile for the poorer Sort; for _Nardius_ is of Opinion, that\nwhich was suppos\u2019d to be perform\u2019d with _Cedar_, was only a cheat of the\n_Libitinarii_ to pick the Pockets of the richer People; the first sort\nbeing perform\u2019d with odoriferous Gums and Spices, and the latter with a\nstrong scented Bitumen call\u2019d _Asphalt_, or for want of that with\n_Pissasphalt_, which things are not mention\u2019d in the Accounts of\n_Herodotus_ and _Diodorus Siculus_ relating to _Embalming_; yet from the\noccular Demonstration of several eminent Physicians, and their\nExperiments and Dissections of such Bodies as are commonly brought over\nfor _Mummies_, it is plainly prov\u2019d they were prepar\u2019d with this\nBituminous Matter, therefore we will next describe what that is. Now\nseeing Authors so much confound _Asphalt_ with _Pissasphalt_, and\nthereby become mistaken even in the word _Mummy_, I think it very\nnecessary to show their differences, they being two sorts of _Bitumen_\nthat were commonly us\u2019d by the _Egyptians_ in their _Embalmings_.\n[Sidenote: _Asphalt._]\nFirst then of _Asphalt_, a natural _Bitumen_ of a viscous and glutinous\nSubstance, which swims on the surface of the Lake _Asphaltites_ in\n_Palestine_ (above 100 Miles from _Damiata_ in _Egypt_, whereas _Le\nBruyn_ is grosly mistaken when he makes it but two _Italian_ Miles, as\nbefore quoted, _p._ 143.) and being driven by the Winds on the Shoar,\nthere condenses by the heat of the Sun, and becomes tough and hard like\nPitch. There is also _Bitumen_ found in several other places, as\n_Dioscorides_ relates, _viz._ in _Ph\u0153nicia_, _Babylon_, _Sydon_, &c. But\nthis which comes from the Lake _Asphaltites_ in _Judea_, thence call\u2019d\n_Bitumen Judaicum_, is the best of all, being clean and shining, of a\nblack or purplish Colour, of a strong Smell, and that may easily be\nburn\u2019d and crumbl\u2019d between the Fingers. With this _Asphalt_ were\n_Embalm\u2019d_ those of a middle sort, [Sidenote: How us\u2019d in _Embalming_.]\nbut by reason it was of too dry a Substance, _Naptha_ and liquid\n_Bitumen_, or _Oleum Petroleum_ were usually added to it by melting over\nthe Fire, and then the Body being boil\u2019d therein, the _Embalming_ was\nfinish\u2019d according to the accustom\u2019d manner: To this purpose Authors\ngive these Reasons for the use of _Asphalt_, that by its astringent and\nexsiccating Nature, it restrains that moisture which would lead to\nCorruption, and no less by its balsamic Quality and Viscosity hinders\nthe fluid Atoms of the Air from penetrating the internal parts of the\nBody, thereby opening a way for its Dissolution. In like manner the\npoorer Sort were _Embalm\u2019d_ with _Pissasphalt_, made fluid by some of\nthe above-mention\u2019d Oils; and seeing likewise there were said to be two\nkinds of this, one Natural and another Artificial, we will next enquire\ninto them:\n[Sidenote: Natural _Pissasphalt_.]\nThe Natural _Pissasphalt_, according to _Dioscorides_, _Valerius Cordus_\nhis Commentator, and others, is a kind of _Bitumen_ flowing from certain\nMountains call\u2019d _Ceraunii Montes_ in _Apollonia_, near the City\n_Epidaurus_, now _Ragusa_, whence being carry\u2019d by the impetuosity of\nthe River, it is cast on the Shoar and there condens\u2019d into Clods,\nsmelling like to a mixture of _Pitch_ and _Bitumen_, from whence it came\nto be term\u2019d by the _Greeks_ _Pissasphaltos, a_ \u03c0\u1f77\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1, _vel_ \u03c0\u1f77\u03c4\u03c4\u03b1 _pix,\n&_ \u1f04\u03c3\u03c6\u03b1\u03bb\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, _Bitumen, quasi dicas Pici Bitumen_, and had the same\nVirtues with _Pitch_ and _Bitumen_ or _Asphalt_ mix\u2019d together. \u2019Tis\nbrought in great Plenty from _Valona_ to _Venice_ for pitching Ships,\nwhich it admirably performs if mix\u2019d with the Pitch of _Pine-Trees_.\n\u2019Tis also brought from _Dalmatia_, being there dug near _Lesina_, not\nfar from _Narenta_, and is likewise found in _Hungary_, where the\nInhabitants call it _Fossil_ Wax; moreover \u2019tis to be had in\n_Transilvania_, and the Germans name it =Erdtwachs= and =Bergwachs=,\nthat is Wax generated in the Earth or Mountains. The _Spaniards_\nlikewise call it, _Cera de minera_, mineral Wax, perhaps from its\nConsistency; but the _Arabians_ term it _Mumia_, whence, it may be,\n_Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies came to be call\u2019d _Mummies_, [Sidenote: Call\u2019d\n_Mummy_.] from their being preserv\u2019d with this _Pissasphalt_, and this\nwe are the more apt to believe, since the true _Asphalt_ or _Bitumen\nJudaicum_ was very scarce, nor is it now to be had in the Shops, as some\nbelieve, but _Pissasphalt_ is sold in its stead. _Brasavolus_ thinks\nthose dry\u2019d Bodies of the _Arabians_ and other Nations, brought to us\nfrom _Syria_ and _Egypt_ for _Mummies_, were only fill\u2019d with\n_Pissasphalt_, inasmuch as being the poorer sort of People in those\nCountries, they could not be suppos\u2019d to afford the expence of a better\n_Embalment_, for the Rich and Noble, whose Bodies were _Embalm\u2019d_ more\ncostly with _Myrrh_, _Aloes_, _Cinamon_, _Balsam_, _Saffron_, and the\nlike, were so carefully inclos\u2019d in their private Sepulchres, that it\nwas not only a very difficult matter to get at them, but also more rare\nto bring any of them over; whereas the Bodies of the Poor and Ignoble,\nstuff\u2019d only with _Pissasphalt_, of so mean a price and after so slight\na manner, were to be come at with little trouble and less suspicion.\nThus the _Syrians_ and _Egyptians_ were wont to condite their Bodies,\nand the _Arabians_ also, from what _Matthiolus_ could learn from their\nWritings, esteem\u2019d _Mummy_ to be _Pissasphalt_ rather than _Asphalt_,\nfor, as _Avicenna_ writes, _Mummy_ performs the very same thing as\n_Asphalt_ does, when mix\u2019d with _Pitch_; from whence we may easily\nconjecture, that the Bodies were only prepar\u2019d with _Pissasphalt_.\n[Sidenote: _Bodies_ only prepar\u2019d with _Pissasphalt_.] With this also\n_Serapio_ agrees, who, discoursing of _Mummy_, according to the\nAuthority of _Dioscorides_, delivers the very same words as he does of\n_Pissasphalt_, affirming, there is _Mummy_ or _Pissasphalt_ in the Land\nof _Apollonia_, which, descending from the Mountains by the course of\nthe River, is cast upon its Banks, and there coagulated like Wax, having\nthe Smell of _Pitch_ mix\u2019d with _Asphalt_, with some _F\u00e6tor_, and its\nVirtue is like to _Pitch_ and _Asphalt_ mix\u2019d together, whence \u2019tis also\nthought our _Mummy_ is rather _Pissasphalt_ than _Asphalt_; for altho\u2019\n_Strabo_ says, The _Bitumen Judaicum_ was us\u2019d for preserving Bodies,\nnevertheless he does not deny but they mix\u2019d _Pitch_ with _Bitumen_,\nwhich makes an artificial _Pissasphalt_; [Sidenote: Artificial\n_Pissasphalt_.] but _Serapio_ and _Avicenna_ knew these Mixtures very\nwell, since not only the _Syrians_, but, their Countrymen the\n_Mauritanians_ also made use of it. Also that which is sold to us for\n_Mummy_, is only the Body of an _Egyptian_, _Arabian_, or the like,\n_Embalm\u2019d_ with _Pissasphalt_, neither is it always properly so, says\n_Struppius_, for they sometimes us\u2019d to lay the Bones of a Human Body in\ntheir proper places, and pour\u2019d over them melted _Pissasphalt_,\n[Sidenote: Sophisticate _Mummy_.] which working into the natural form\nand shape of the Body, they sent over for _Mummy_, and such is that\nwhich is brought to us even at this Day, having no particle of _Myrrh_,\n_Aloes_, _Balsam_, &c. mix\u2019d with it, as manifestly appears from its\nSmell, Taste and Colour.\nThus having shew\u2019d how the _Egyptians_ preserv\u2019d their Dead after\nseveral ways, as by _Salination_ with _Aromatics_, _Salination_ with\n_Cedar_, _Asphalt_ or _Pissasphalt_, and by _Salination_ with _Salt_\nalone, according to the Accounts of _Herodotus_, _Diodorus Siculus_ and\nthe Observations of other Persons upon them, I will next add some other\nRemarks concerning the Nature of their _Embalmings_, and the respective\nWorks of the several Persons employ\u2019d therein; likewise, the manner of\nRouling, Painting and Dressing their Dead, with the Ceremonies of\nJudging them, ferrying them over the Lake, keeping them in their Houses,\nsetting them at their Tables, pawning them, _&c._\nFirst then, we will suppose the _Egyptians_ had a certain Temple or\nOffice wherein all Things were kept in order for _Embalming_ a Body,\n[Sidenote: An _Office_ of _Embalming_.] to which there belong\u2019d, and\nwhere there resided all sorts of Persons who perform\u2019d any particular\npart of that _Art_, as Washing, Salting, Anointing, _&c._ or else\nprepar\u2019d any kind of Necessaries for the Funeral Pomp. Now these were\ndistinguish\u2019d by the several Names of a _Priest_ or _Physician_, an\n_Embalmer_ or _Surgeon_, a _Pollinctor_ or _Apothecary_, a _Dissector_\nor _Anatomist_, a _Salinator_ or _Salter_ and a _Designer_ or _Painter_,\nalso \u039d\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u1f79\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2, a _Dresser_ of the Dead, and \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1f75\u03c2, one that\nfurnish\u2019d all Necessaries for the Funeral, and bury\u2019d the Body, being\ncall\u2019d in _Latin_ _Libitinarius_: That there was such an Office, appears\nnot only from these several Persons, mention\u2019d by _Herodotus_ and\n_Diodorus Siculus_, who were employ\u2019d therein, and either profess\u2019d the\n_Art of Embalming_, or perform\u2019d some other part belonging to the\nFuneral Pomp, but is also prov\u2019d from their saying, _That the dead Body\nwas carry\u2019d out to be Embalm\u2019d_, which plainly implies some certain\nplace allotted for that purpose. First therefore, we will suppose there\nbelong\u2019d to this Office a Clerk, [Sidenote: The _Clerk_.] who shew\u2019d,\nthe Friends of the Deceas\u2019d, Patterns of all sorts of things belonging\neither to the _Libitinarii_ or Furnishers of the _Funeral_, or to the\n_Curatores Corporis_, the _Embalmers_, who having agreed with them after\nwhat manner, and at what Price they would have it done, enter\u2019d it into\na Book, and took care to see it perform\u2019d accordingly. The President or\nHead of this College, we take to be one who was both a _Priest_ and\n_Physician_, [Sidenote: The _Physician_.] and therefore was highly\nHonour\u2019d, and had in the greatest Esteem and Respect. As a _Priest_ he\nwas qualify\u2019d to instruct the several Officers in all Funeral Rites and\nCeremonies, and confirm the People in the _Metempsychosis_, upon which\nthose Matters were grounded: As a _Physician_, being skill\u2019d in the _Art\nof Embalming_, and the Nature of all Vegetables and Minerals, he\nprescrib\u2019d balsamic Medicines and odoriferous Unguents for the\n_Apothecary_ to compound and apply pursuant to his Directions, and\ninstructed the _Surgeon_ how to perform the manual Operation. That there\nwas a _Physician_ made use of in _Embalming_, appears very plainly from\nthe Second Verse of the 50th Chapter of _Genesis_, where _Moses_,\nspeaking of the Death of _Jacob_, says his Son _Joseph commanded his\nServants, the Physicians, to Embalm his Father, and the Physicians\nEmbalm\u2019d Israel_; where by _his Servants, the Physicians_, seems to be\nmeant either those properly belonging to his Person, it being antiently\na Custom for Princes and Noble Men to have such in their Families to\nwait upon and take care of them, or by the Repetition _The Physicians\nEmbalm\u2019d_ Israel, might be meant those of the _Office_, since _Joseph_,\nbeing Viceroy of _Egypt_, might well command them, they being all his\nServants and in subjection to him. [Sidenote: _Embalming_ of _Jacob_.]\nThis leads me to digress a little in order to give a further Account of\nthe _Embalming Jacob_, whereby will appear how far those Heathen Writers\nbefore-mention\u2019d agree with the _Scripture_. First then there was a\ngreat necessity for _Embalming Jacob_, by reason his Body was to be\ncarry\u2019d a great way to his Sepulchre, and both _Herodotus_ and _Diodorus\nSiculus_ tell us, there were those in _Egypt_ that profess\u2019d the Art of\npreserving Bodies from Corruption, which \u2019tis plain was part of the\nPhysicians Emploiment, for the word _Ropheim_ (which we Translate\n_Physicians_) constantly signifies in Scripture such as cur\u2019d or heal\u2019d\nsick Bodies; but the LXX. here aptly enough Translate it \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1f70\u03c2,\n(those that prepar\u2019d and fitted Bodies for their Interment by\n_Embalming_ as we, says the Bishop of _Ely_, likewise Translate it)\nbecause that was their proper Business; whence \u2019tis _Pliny_, Lib. 11.\nchap. 37. says, _Mos est \u00c6gyptiis Cadavera asservare Medicata_, _\u2019Tis\nthe Custom among the_ Egyptians _to preserve dead Bodies by the\nPhysicians Art_. In this Art they excell\u2019d all the World besides, Bodies\nof their _Embalming_ remaining entire even to this Day, and no question\nbut _Joseph_, who spar\u2019d neither Cost nor Pains, had his Father\n_Embalm\u2019d_ after the noblest manner. [Sidenote: Perform\u2019d in _Forty\nDays_.] _And Forty Days were fulfill\u2019d for him (for so are fulfill\u2019d the\nDays of those that are Embalm\u2019d) and the Egyptians Mourn\u2019d for him\nThreescore and Ten Days_, ver. 3. That is, Forty Days were spent in\n_Embalming_ him, which could not be finish\u2019d in a shorter Time, for\n_Diodorus Siculus_ tells us of several Officers that were employ\u2019d about\nit one after another, and that they anointed the dead Body with _Balsam_\nof _Cedar_ for above 30 Days, and afterwards with _Myrrh_, _Cinamon_,\nand the like, which might make up the residue of 40 Days: But\n_Herodotus_ differs from him in this, by adding 30 Days more for Salting\nthe Body with _Nitre_, which makes in all 70 Days, the full Time of\ntheir Mourning, [Sidenote: The _Time_ of their _Mourning_.] they being\naccustom\u2019d to spend all that Time, which they were _Embalming_ the Body\nand preparing for the Funeral, in Mourning, the manner of which we have\nbefore describ\u2019d, _p._ 241, 243, 245, 247. so shall here only farther\ntake notice what some object, that this Mourning was immoderate, having\nmore of Ambition than Piety in it; to which _Jacobus Capellus_ answers,\nThat granting it be true, that _Joseph_ did not bring in this Custom,\nand had peculiar Reason to follow what he found in use, that they might\nbe more condemn\u2019d who vex\u2019d the innocent Posterity, on whose Parent they\nhad bestow\u2019d Royal Honours; there is besides something due to Kings and\ngreat Men to distinguish them from common People. _Now when the Days of\nMourning were past_, that is 70 Days, _Joseph went up to Bury his\nFather, and with him went up all the Servants of Pharaoh, the Elders of\nhis House, and all the Elders of the Land of Egypt_, [Sidenote: _Funeral\nProcession._] ver. 7. The principal Persons in Authority and Dignity\nthroughout the whole Country, as well such as were Governors of\nProvinces and Cities, Counsellors, _&c._ as such as were principal\nOfficers at Court. _And all the House of Joseph, and his Brethren, and\nhis Fathers House_, ver. 8. _And there went up with him both Chariots\nand Horsemen_, v. 9. as a Guard to him, which \u2019tis likely always\nattended him, as Viceroy of the Kingdom, but now might be necessary for\nhis safety as he pass\u2019d thro\u2019 the Desarts. _And it was a very great\nCompany._ That he might appear in great State at such a Solemnity. _When\nthey came beyond Jordan they mourn\u2019d with a great and very sore\nLamentation seven Days_, the Time of public Mourning among the _Jews_ in\nsucceeding Ages, as appears from several Instances, particularly, 1\n_Sam._ 31. 13. _Eccl._ 22. 13. _Judith_ 16. 20. Moreover this shows the\nLamentation was so exceeding great, that the Place where it was made was\nafterwards call\u2019d _Abel-Mizraim_, [Sidenote: _Abel-Mizraim._] that is,\n_The Mourning of the_ Egyptians. But how they bury\u2019d _Jacob_ when they\ncame into _Canaan_, as also concerning the nature of the Cave wherein\nthey laid him, see the Bishop of _Ely_\u2019s Notes on the 50th Chapter of\n_Genesis_, from whom I have chiefly extracted this; and other\nCommentators, for I think it high time to return to the _Embalming_ of\nthe _Egyptians_, according to the propos\u2019d institution of an Office, in\nwhich having already shown the respective Emploiments of the _Clerk_ and\n_Priest_ or _Physician_, we shall next proceed to speak of the _Surgeon_\nor _Embalmer_, and of all other inferior Officers under him, such as the\n_Dissector_, _Emboweller_, _Pollinctor_, _Salter_, and other dependant\nServants, as _Dressers of the Dead_, _Painters_, _Carvers_, and the\nlike.\n[Sidenote: The _Surgeon_.]\nThe _Surgeon_, who was the chief _Embalmer_, generally directed and took\ncare to see the several Operations perform\u2019d in due order, and sometimes\ndid them himself; for tho\u2019 the _Curatores Corporis_, that were his\nAssistants and Servants, commonly Dissected, Embowell\u2019d, Wash\u2019d,\nAnointed and _Embalm\u2019d_ the Bodies of the meaner sort of People, yet\nwhen any Prince or Nobleman was to be _Embalm\u2019d_, after the richest and\nmost curious manner, he perform\u2019d the chief part of the Work himself,\nand this he was the more capable of as being both an exquisite\n_Anatomist_, and well vers\u2019d in the Nature of all _Balsamic_ Medicines,\nwhether _Galenical_ or _Chymical_, and tho\u2019 he might be something\ninferior to the _Physician_, yet in conjunction with him, was he both\nthe better able to consider the Nature of the deceas\u2019d Person\u2019s\nDistemper, or Cause of his Death, and accordingly to proceed in his\n_Embalming_; and lastly, he was very dextrous and knowing in the _Art_\nof _Bandage_, whereby it appears his chief Business was to _Embalm_ and\nRoul up the Body, which, in respect to its being thus preserv\u2019d by\nBalsamic and Medicinal Ingredients, artificially and topically apply\u2019d,\nwas said to be _Corpus Medicatum_, [Sidenote: _Corpus Medicatum._] a\nBody preserv\u2019d from Putrifaction by _Embalming_. Now I cannot imagine,\nas some Authors affirm, they did this always in one road or manner, but\nthat the Physician vary\u2019d his Prescriptions, by adding one thing and\nsubtracting another, increasing the quantity of one Ingredient or\ndiminishing that of another, according to the Constitution of the\nPerson, and Nature of his Disease, agreeable to which was the\n_Embalming_ perform\u2019d; for \u2019tis certain some Medicines are more\nprevalent against Putrifactions than others, and that there ought to be\na difference, as well, in the Composition of the Medicine, as in the\n_Embalming_ one that dy\u2019d only thro\u2019 a natural Decay, one that dy\u2019d of\nsome malignant Distemper, or one that dy\u2019d of a _Hectic_ Feaver, which\nconsumes and dries up the radical Moisture of the Body, and one that\ndy\u2019d of a _Dropsie_, which colliquates the Body and makes it fluid with\nits Waters. In a word, there ought to be a difference even in an old\nBody and a Young; therefore, as the Doctor\u2019s Prescriptions were vary\u2019d,\naccording to these Considerations, so was there a greater occasion for a\nskilful Apothecary, to take care of and see to the compounding the\n_Aromatic Powders_, _Oils_, _Balsams_, _Ointments_, _Cerecloths_,\n_Tinctures_, _Spirits_, and the like analogous Things, and their\nApplication, according to the Directions of the _Doctor_; and as the\n_Surgeon_ had under him a _Dissector_, &c. [Sidenote: _Dissector._] who\nembowell\u2019d and wash\u2019d the Body, and did the like inferior Businesses, so\nhad the _Apothecary_ Servants under him to make up the Medicines,\nadminister Clysters and Injections, and to Anoint the Body, thence\ncall\u2019d _Pollinctors_. [Sidenote: _Pollinctor._] Thus was the chief\nConcern of the _Embalming_ a Body manag\u2019d by the Advice and Assistance\nof the _Physician_, _Surgeon_ and _Apothecary_, as indeed it ought also\nto be perform\u2019d at this Day, and not to have ignorant _Undertakers_\ndirect and act all things at their pleasure. But when Bodies were to be\n_Embalm\u2019d_ without _Gums_, _Spices_, _Cedria_, _Asphalt_, _Pissasphalt_\nor the like, such as the poorest People, who could not be at the expence\nof them, they were chiefly committed to the Care of the _Taricheut\u00e6_ or\n_Salitores_, [Sidenote: _Taricheut\u00e6 Salitores._] who only prepar\u2019d and\ndry\u2019d them with _Salt_, and then such Bodies were call\u2019d _Corpora\nCondita_, pickl\u2019d or salted Bodies. [Sidenote: _Corpora Condita._] Thus\nhaving shown the principal Persons of this _Office_, and who directed\nand perform\u2019d the _Embalming_, we will next give an account of those\nthat provided all things necessary for the Funeral. These were such as\nthe _Greeks_ call\u2019d \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1f75\u03c2, [Sidenote: \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1f75\u03c2,] he that got\nthe Body ready and prepar\u2019d all Necessaries for the Interment;\n[Sidenote: \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03bf\u03c0\u1f7d\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2.] \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03bf\u03c0\u1f7d\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2, he that sold all Matters\nappertaining to Funerals, and \u039d\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u1f79\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 the Dresser, [Sidenote:\n\u039d\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u1f79\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2,] or one that put on the Ornaments of the Dead: But all\nthese were term\u2019d by the _Romans_ in general _Libitinarii_, [Sidenote:\n_Libitinarii._] the _Undertakers_ and _Furnishers_ of Funerals, who had\nthe Care of preparing, letting out or selling the Ornaments and Dresses\nfor the Dead, and of providing Mourners, mourning Habits, and whatever\nelse was necessary for the Funeral Pomp; nay who eas\u2019d the afflicted\nFriends of their Trouble. They were thus nam\u2019d from _Libitina_, a\nGoddess whom the Ancients believ\u2019d to preside over Funerals, and some\ntook to be _Proserpina_, but others _Venus_, thereby to show, that as\nshe was at the beginning of Life by Generation, so was she likewise at\nthe end or conclusion thereof, inasmuch as in her Temple were kept and\nsold all things necessary for Funeral-Solemnities. Other _Officers_ were\nthe _Herald_, _Painter_, _Carver_, &c.\n[Sidenote: The _Herald_.]\nThe _Herald\u2019s_ Business was to proclaim and give notice of the\napproaching Funeral, to summon and invite the Company, and lastly to\nmarshall them in the Funeral-Procession, according to their respective\nDignities and Quality. [Sidenote: _Painter._] The _Painter_ was to gild\nor paint the Body and Coffin, with _Hieroglyphic_ Characters, _&c._\n[Sidenote: _Carver._] And the _Carver_ to make the Models of Wood that\nwere to be shown to the deceas\u2019d Person\u2019s Friends, to denote that they\n_Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies three several Ways, and at as many different Rates;\nthey likewise wrought the Coffins into the shape and form of the\nDeceas\u2019d. But we shall speak more of these in their order, after having\nfirst given some Particulars relating to the several Methods of the\n_Egyptian Embalming_, not hitherto so fully describ\u2019d. [Sidenote:\n_Embalming_ with _Cedar_.] First then, we believe the manner of\n_Embalming_ with _Cedar_ might probably be invented to satisfie such\nwhose Consciences would admit of no Dissection at all, and the most\nlikely Method of performing it was by injecting into the _Brain_, thro\u2019\nthe _Nostrils_, into the _Thorax_, thro\u2019 the _Aspera Arteria_, and into\nthe _Stomach_ and _Intestines_, thro\u2019 the _Oesophagus_ and _Anus_, _Oil_\nof _Cedar_, by the help of a _Siringe_ and _Dilator_. This being a\nsubtil, hot, and rectify\u2019d Oil of a _Caustic_ Nature, wasted and\nconsum\u2019d the Bowels like to quick Lime, and then the Body being hung up\nor plac\u2019d in a declining posture, they press\u2019d and squeez\u2019d out the said\nOil, which brought away with it the Bowels wasted. Then the Corps being\nwash\u2019d and cleans\u2019d, they again injected into all the _Cavities_ and\n_Venters_, as much as they could of a _Balsam_ distill\u2019d from the Pitch\nof young _Cedars_, which being depriv\u2019d of its corrosive and subtil Oil,\nhad nothing of a _Caustic_ Quality remaining in it, but consisted only\nof drying, exsiccating and _Balsamic_ Parts. Then they laid the Body in\nPickle for 70 Days; after which, having wip\u2019d it, they anointed it with\na sweet and drying Ointment, which perhaps from the _Basis_ of its\nComposition might be term\u2019d _Unguentum Cedrinum_, [Sidenote: _Unguentum\nCedrinum._] and then dry\u2019d it in the Sun or otherwise, by which means\nall remaining Moisture, and the thinner and more subtil parts of the\n_Balsam_ being evaporated, the Body became hard, firm and solid, like to\na _Colophony_ of Turpentine or Pitch.\n[Sidenote: _Embalming_ with _Pissasphalt_.]\nThe second Way of _Embalming_ among the _Egyptians_ was perform\u2019d with\nnatural or factitious _Pissasphalt_, just in the same manner as I shall\nshow with _Asphalt_, but only the natural _Pissasphalt_ was us\u2019d for the\nmidling sort of People, and the factitious for the poorer and common\nPeople and Slaves; nor was there any Curiosity in these more than the\nusual Exenteration, Salination and Coction in the _Bitumens_, for they\nneither us\u2019d Roulers nor bestow\u2019d Coffins on them.\nThe third sort, which was for the more substantial People, [Sidenote:\n_Embalming_ with _Asphalt_.] was more costly and exact, and perform\u2019d\nwith _Asphalt_ after this manner: The Corps being open\u2019d, embowell\u2019d,\nwash\u2019d, cleans\u2019d and salted after the usual Method, was put into a large\nCauldron fill\u2019d with _Asphalt_, or _Bitumen Judaicum_, made fluid with\n_Naptha_, and then boil\u2019d \u2019till it had melted the Fat, and consum\u2019d all\nthe Humors and Juices which are the Principals of Corruption, by which\nmeans the soft parts of the Flesh were made firm, and the whole Body\npenetrated, and as it were pitch\u2019d to the Marrow of the Bones, with this\nBituminous Liquor. Then being taken out of the Cauldron, and swath\u2019d up\nwhilst it was yet hot, it at length became petrify\u2019d and hard like to\nMarble.\n[Illustration:\n  _J. Sturt sculp._\n  _To Charles Bernard Esq^r. Serjeant Surgeon:\n  Who has been pleased to encourage this Work,\n  This Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble servant_ Tho. Greenhill.\n[Sidenote: _Embalming_ with _Aromatics_ and _Balsams_.]\nThe fourth and last way is both Noble and Expensive, and was perform\u2019d\nto the utmost Perfection, Art and Skill. The _Brain_ being extracted,\nand the _Thorax_ and _Abdomen_ releas\u2019d of their _Viscera_, all the\nCavities were thoroughly cleans\u2019d with aromatiz\u2019d Wine, and then\nrepleted with a Composition of _Myrrh_, _Aloes_, _Cinamon_,\n_Opobalsamum_, _Saffron_, and the like; after which, they sew\u2019d up the\nIncisions, and salted the Body with _Nitre_ for 70 Days, and then wiping\nand drying it from the Pickle or Salt, they anointed it with an Ointment\nmade of aromatic, balsamic and odoriferous Ingredients, whence some\nAuthors have call\u2019d a Body so prepar\u2019d, _Funus odoratum_. [Sidenote:\n_Funus odoratum._] This done, they swath\u2019d it up with Roulers made of\nfine Linnen, and dipp\u2019d in some _Balsam_, _Ointment_ or _Cerecloth_,\nwhich being dry, serv\u2019d like Glue to stop the Pores, and hinder the\nDissipation of the volatil parts of the Aromatics, as well as the\nPenetration of the Air. _Guichard_, cap. 10. p. 479. _des Funerailles\ndes \u00c6gyptiens_, thinks this Gum to have been _Acacia_, of which see\n_Dioscorides_, Lib. 1. cap. 134. _& apud Mathiol._ p. 115. But\n_Bellonius_ and other Authors think the Gum which _Herodotus_ says the\n_Egyptians_ us\u2019d instead of Glue was _Cedria_, besmear\u2019d on the Roulers\nin manner of a Cerecloth: [Sidenote: _Roulers_ how prepar\u2019d, _&c._]\nOthers say the Body was first anointed with a Gum, and then wrapped up\nin fine Linnen, and _Casalius de veter. \u00c6gyptior. Ritibus_, p. 30. says,\n_Gummi Oleo inungebant_, which is more agreeable to the Observations I\nhave made, That the Roulers seem\u2019d either dipp\u2019d _in Oleo seu Unguento\nCedrino_, or after the Body was anointed with it, roul\u2019d up and\nfinish\u2019d, then that the Bandages were prepar\u2019d after the manner of a\nCerecloth, with _Gum_ or _Rosin_ of _Cedar_, because this would have\nmade them hard and brittle, whereas those which I have seen, were\npliable and free from any _Gum_ or _Embalming_ Matter adhering to them,\nand no ways different from other Linnen, but only of a Cinnamon or\nSnuff-Colour; so that probably they might dip or anoint them with the\nOil or Ointment of _Cedar_, rather to make them lasting and durable than\nto stick to the Body; for _Greaves_ tells us in his _Pyramidographia_,\np. 50. that he had seen some of these Roulers so strong and perfect, as\nif they had been made but Yesterday. With these they bound and swath\u2019d\nthe dead Body, beginning at the Head and ending with the Feet. Over\nthese again they wound others, so often one upon another, that there\ncould not be less than a 1000 ells upon one Body. They interwove these\nRoulers so artificially and in such manner, says _Kircher_, as would\npuzzle the Ingenuity and tire the Industry of our Modern _Surgeons_ to\nfind out, yet, with submission to him, it may not be so difficult to\nperform by any one tollerably skill\u2019d in the _Art_ of _Bandage_ as he\nimagines, for, as I take it, they began with the Feet and Hands, and\nended with the Head, contrary to what _Greaves_ asserts, tho\u2019 I cannot\nsay this of my own Knowledge, having never had any opportunity of\nunrouling such Bodies, but only offer the Consideration thereof,\naccording to the appearance of the following Figures, of which the first\nshows the interior artificial Circumvolutions of the Roulers, the Body\nbeing first wrapp\u2019d in fine Linnen, wherein _Egypt_ excell\u2019d, as the\nHoly Scriptures testifie, _Prov._ 7. 16. &c. The second Figure\nrepresents the manner of the next Rouling, and the fourth shews the\nexternal Ornaments, painted with _Hierogliphics_, &c. [Sidenote:\n_Designer_ or _Painter_.] For when the Body was thus roul\u2019d, the\n_Designer_ or _Painter_ cover\u2019d the superficies of the Roulers with a\nkind of Paste or Gum, on which he gilded and painted Cyphers, Figures,\nLetters, Characters and other _Hieroglyphics_. The third Figure shows a\nCase to keep the Body in, made of Linnen, and painted in like manner\nwith _Hieroglyphics_ in distinct Colours, having been found in the\n_Mus\u00e6um_ of _Johannes Nardius_. Now concerning the nature and\nsignification of these _Hieroglyphics_, [Sidenote: _Hieroglyphic_\nCharacters.] Authors variously write; but none have taken so much Pains,\nor div\u2019d so far into the meaning of them, as the Learned _Kircher_, who\npretends to explain all the _Hieroglyphic_ Characters painted on the\nRoulers and Coffins of the _Mummies_, in his _Oedipi \u00c6gyptiaci Theatrum\nHieroglyphicum_, where also, _p._ 412 and 414. you may find the\nparticular Explanations of the third and fourth Figures. But since there\nremains no Alphabet or Dictionary of these Characters (for the entire\nKnowledge of _Hieroglyphics_ perish\u2019d at the Time the _Egyptian_\nCeremonies ceas\u2019d, and were abolish\u2019d by the Irruption _Cambyses_ made\ninto _Egypt_) we believe all those assiduous Penetrations into these\nMysteries by _Kircher_ and _R. P. Menestrier_, are but imperfect\nConjectures and meer Imaginations. However, having spoken of the\n_Egyptian_ Language in no part of this Book before, it may not be amiss\nto insert here some few Particulars concerning it. [Sidenote: Two sorts\nof _Languages_ and _Characters_.] First then, there were two sorts of\nLanguages and Characters among the _Egyptians_; one common and us\u2019d by\nall, constituted for their Trade and Commerce with Mankind, and which\nwas that Tongue or Idiom call\u2019d the _Coptic_ or _Pharonic_, and the\nother us\u2019d only by Priests, Prophets, _Hierogrammatists_ or Holy\nWriters, and the like Persons in Sacerdotal Orders. The first was\nwritten from the Right Hand to the Left in Characters not unlike the old\n_Greek_; but the latter consisted not of Letters, Syllables or Words,\nbut thro\u2019 the Image and Pictures of Things, they endeavour\u2019d to deliver\ntheir hidden Conceits in the Letters and Language of Nature. Thus by a\nrepresentation of the several Parts and Actions of Man, the shape of\nArtificers Tools and Instruments, the form of all sorts of Animals,\nBeasts, Birds and Fish, the resemblance of the Sun, Moon, Planets and\nthe like, they exactly read and understood every thing couch\u2019d within\nthose _Hieroglyphics_. For Example, the Crocodile was the Emblem of\nMalice; the Eye the Preserver of Justice and the Guard of the Body; the\nRight Hand, with its Fingers open, signify\u2019d Plenty, and the Left, with\nits Fingers clos\u2019d, Preservation and Custody of Mens Goods and Estates.\nTo express their _Eneph_ or Creator of the World, the _Egyptians_\ndescrib\u2019d an old Man in a blew Mantle, with an Egg in his Mouth, which\nwas the Emblem of the World, and express\u2019d their Notion of Divinity by\nan Eye on a Scepter, by an Eagle\u2019s Head, _&c._ Of which see more in Sir\n_Thomas Brown_\u2019s _Vulgar Errors_, cap. 20. where he rightly observes,\nthat of all Nations that suffer\u2019d by the Confusion of _Babel_, the\n_Egyptians_ found the best Evasion; for tho\u2019 Words were confounded, they\ninvented a Language of Things, and spake to each other by common Notions\nin Nature, whereby they discours\u2019d in silence, and were intuitively\nunderstood from the Theory of their Impressions; for they assum\u2019d the\nshapes of Animals common to all Eyes, and by their Conjunctions and\nCompositions were able to communicate their Conception to any that\nco-apprehended the _Syntaxis_ of their Natures. This many conceive to\nhave been the Primitive way of Writing, and of greater Antiquity than\nLetters; and this Language indeed might _Adam_ well have spoken, who\nunderstanding the Nature of Things, had the advantage of Natural\nExpressions, _&c._ But to add two or three Examples more out of _Orus_:\nFor Eternity the _Egyptians_ painted the Sun and Moon, as Things which\nthey believ\u2019d to have had no beginning, nor were likely to have any\nending; for a Year they painted a Snake with his Tail in his Mouth, to\nshow how, one Year succeeding another, the World was still kept in an\nendless Circle; for a Month they painted a Palm-Tree, by reason at every\nnew Moon that Tree sends forth a new Branch; for GOD they painted a\nFalcon, as well in that he soars so exceeding high, as that he governs\nthe lesser Birds, for Integrity of Life they painted Fire and Water,\nboth because these Elements are in themselves most pure, and by reason\nall other Things are purify\u2019d by them; for any thing that was abominable\nto the Gods they painted a Fish, because in their Sacrifices the Priests\nnever us\u2019d them, and the like of which you will find innumerable\nInstances in _Pierius_\u2019s Book of the _Egyptian Hieroglyphics_. Now what\nso great a number of these Sacred Characters inscrib\u2019d on their\n_Obelisks_ and _Mummies_ signify\u2019d, Authors seem to differ about, some\nlooking on them as _Charms_ and _Necromancy_, [Sidenote:\n_Hieroglyphics_, their _Signification_.] and others thinking they did\nthereby endeavour not so much to express as hide their Meanings, to\namuse and awe the Vulgar; but I am more inclinable to think they always\ncontain\u2019d some History of the Life and Death, Virtues and Actions of the\nDeceas\u2019d, or else some Religious Ceremonies, and the like; for _Diodorus\nSiculus_, Lib. 1. cap. 4. writes of _Sesoosis_, that he erected two\nObelisks of polish\u2019d Marble 120 Cubits high, on which were inscrib\u2019d a\nDescription of the large extent of his Empire, the great Value of his\nRevenue, and the number of the Nations by him conquer\u2019d; and what sort\nof Writing this was, is explain\u2019d a little before, where, speaking of\nthe like Works, he says, he erected Pillars whereon were inscrib\u2019d in\n_Egyptian_ Letters call\u2019d _Hieroglyphics_ these Words: Sesoosis _King of\nKings and Lord of Lords subdu\u2019d this Country by his Arms_. Also _Lib._\n5. _cap._ 3. he writes of a Golden Pillar whereon were Letters\ninscrib\u2019d, call\u2019d by the _Egyptians_ Sacred Writing, expressing the\nfamous Actions of _Uranus_, _Jupiter_, _Diana_ and _Apollo_, written, as\nthey say, by _Mercury_ himself, whom most Authors agree with him to have\nbeen the first Inventor of these _Hieroglyphic Characters_.\n[Sidenote: _Dresses_ and _Ornaments_ of the _Mummies_.]\nBut to return to the manner of _dressing_ and _adorning_ the _Embalm\u2019d_\nBodies, such as is represented in Figure the 4th, where you may see the\nImage and Form of a Woman set off with various Ornaments, the\nsignification of whose _Hieroglyphic Characters_ you have explain\u2019d by\n_Kircher_, in the Book and Page before-mention\u2019d; we shall next proceed\nto give an account of an extraordinary fine _Mummy_ which _Pietro della\nValle_ saw and describes in this manner, _viz._ That upon it was the\nFigure of a young Man, dress\u2019d in a long Gown, gilded and sprinkl\u2019d over\nwith _Hieroglyphic_ Emblems from Head to Foot, set off with precious\nStones, with the Hair of his Head black and curl\u2019d, and his Beard of the\nsame colour, but short; a Chain of Gold hung about his Neck, having a\nMedal with the Image of the Bird _Ibis_ on it, with many other Marks and\nCharacters, which give us to understand this young Man was possess\u2019d of\ngreat Dignities. In his Right Hand he held a Golden Bason full of red\nLiquor, and in his Left a Fruit somewhat resembling an Apple: He had a\nGold-Ring on his Thumb, and another on his little Finger, likewise\nSandals which cover\u2019d the Soles of his Feet only, and were ty\u2019d above\nthe Instep with Straps or Latchets. On a Fillet or Rouler hanging at his\nGirdle, one might plainly read the word _Eutichi_, which signifies _Good\nTime_. By his side was a Woman yet more richly and mysteriously adorn\u2019d,\nwith an Ox, the Image of _Apis_ or _Isis_, at her Feet. In a word, both\nthese Figures were painted like to the Saints of the Ancients. When the\ndead Bodies of the _Egyptians_ were _Embalm\u2019d_, roul\u2019d, painted and\nadorn\u2019d after the manner we have describ\u2019d, as you may partly see at\nFigures the first, second and fourth, they put them into Cases or\nCoffins made of Linnen pasted to a great thickness, or else of Wood\ncarv\u2019d in the similitude and likeness of the Person deceas\u2019d, as you may\nsee at Figures the third and fifth; the first of which shows the back\npart of a Linnen-Case for a _Mummy_, painted with several Colours, as is\nto be seen in the Collection of _Johannes Nardius_; and the other how a\nroul\u2019d Body lies plac\u2019d in a wooden Coffin, as may be seen in the\n_Mus\u00e6um_ of the Great Duke of _Tuscany_.\n[Illustration:\n  Jos. Nutting Sculp.\n  To D^r. John Lawson who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work, this\n    Plate is humbly dedicated by his most humble Servant Thomas\n    Greenhill.\n[Sidenote: _Coffins_ of _Sycamore_.]\nThese Coffins were sometimes made of _Cedar_, but most commonly of\n_Sycamore_, a large Tree, very plentifully growing in _Egypt_ and\n_Jud\u00e6a_, which bears Leaves like to the _Mulberry_-Tree, but larger, and\nFruit like to a Fig, not sprouting from the Branches, but from the Stock\nor Body of the Tree. \u2019Tis call\u2019d by us the _Egyptian_ Fig, by them\n_Giumez_. Its Leaves afford a pleasant shade, its Fruit refreshment to\nsuch as Travel in the Plains of those hot Countries, and its Wood serves\nnot only for Coffins but Buildings. \u2019Tis also a Tree so lasting and well\nrooted, that the _Sycamore_ which _Zacheus_ ascended, is still shown in\n_Jud\u00e6a_ to Travellers, as is also the hollow _Sycamore_ at _Matarea_ in\n_Egypt_, where the Blessed Virgin is said to have remain\u2019d for some\nTime, which tho\u2019 it savour of the Legend, says Sir _Thomas Brown_ in his\nObservations on _Scripture-Plants_, p. 12. yet it plainly shows what\nOpinion the _Egyptians_ had of the lasting Condition of this Tree to\ncountenance their Tradition, of which likewise they might not be without\nsome Experience, since the Learned _Greaves_ observes, _p._ 57. that the\nold _Egyptians_ made Coffins of this Wood, of which there are many\nfrequently found among the _Mummies_, very fair, entire and free from\nCorruption even at this Day, nay after the Revolution perhaps of 3000\nYears. Of these Coffins _Greaves_ tells us, _p._ 50. he had seen many\nfashion\u2019d after the likeness of a Man, or rather resembling one of those\n_Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies, which, as we have describ\u2019d before, are bound about\nwith Fillets or Roulers, and wrapp\u2019d in a Shroud of Linnen; for as in\nthose there is the shape of a Head, with a kind of painted Vizard or\nMask fastned to them, but without any appearance of their Arms or Legs,\nin like manner is it with these Coffins, the Lids of which have the\nshape of the Head of a Man, with a Face painted on it resembling a\nWoman, the residue being one continued Trunk. At the end of this Trunk\nis a Pedestal somewhat broad, on which it stood upright in the\nReconditory, as _Herodotus_ relates. Some of these Coffins are handsomly\npainted without with several _Hieroglyphics_; opening two of them he\nfound within, over the Body, [Sidenote: _Scroles_ painted with\n_Characters_, &c.] divers Scroles fastned to the Linnen-Shroud: These\nwere painted with Sacred _Characters_, in Colours very lively and fresh,\namong which were, in a larger size, the Pictures both of Men and Women,\nsome headed like Hawks, others like Dogs, _&c._ These Scroles ran either\ndown the Belly and Sides, or else were plac\u2019d on the Knees and Legs. On\nthe Feet was a Linnen-Cover (and so were all the Scroles\nbefore-mention\u2019d of Linnen, it being not lawful for them to use Woollen)\npainted with _Hieroglyphics_, and fashion\u2019d like a high Slipper. On the\nBreast was a kind of Breast-Plate, made with folds of Linnen cut\nScallop-wise, richly painted and gilt. In the midst of the bend at the\ntop, was the Face of a Woman with her Arms extended, on each side, at\nthe two outmost ends, was the Head of a Hawk fairly gilt, by which they\nrepresented the Divine Nature. Thus far _Greaves_. Moreover _Thevenot_,\n_Bellonius_, _Nardius_ and others observe, [Sidenote: Several things\nfound included in the _Mummies_,] that the _Egyptians_ were wont to put\nwithin the Cavities of the Breasts and Bellies of their _Embalm\u2019d_\nBodies, such Things as they generally lov\u2019d most in their Life-Time,\n_viz._ Books, Writings, Arms, Medals, Money and pieces of Antiquity,\nlittle Vessels, or any sort of antient Houshold-Goods; also little Idols\nand Images of the Gods which they Worshipp\u2019d whilst alive, _&c._\n_Kircher_ tells us in his _Oedipus \u00c6gyptiacus Theatr. Hierogl._ p. 420.\nthat _Nardius_ sent him two Roulers mark\u2019d with _Hieroglyphics_, and\nroul\u2019d up in the manner of a Scrole, taken out of the Breast or Belly of\na Mummy; adding also that the _Egyptians_ did not only look on such\n_Hieroglyphics_ as Symbols of the greatest Secrecy, but also that they\nhad a power to obtain Protection of those Gods to whom they were\nfastned, and that these Roulers signify\u2019d nothing else but the Funeral\nPomp, which was perform\u2019d as magnificently as possible, especially if it\nwere of a King, Priest or the like, the Explanation whereof see in the\nPage above-mention\u2019d. _Gulielmus Rondeletus_, a Physician of\n_Montpelier_, kept as a great Rarity 20 Leaves of antient Paper,\n[Sidenote: as _Papers_,] taken out of the Breast of a _Mummy_, which was\nfill\u2019d with old _Arabic_ Letters, yet none could read it, tho\u2019 the\n_Jews_ of _Avignon_ conjectur\u2019d it contain\u2019d the Life of the Deceas\u2019d;\nbut nothing is so commonly found in these Mummies, as Idols of various\nsizes, tho\u2019 generally about half a Foot or a Span long, form\u2019d either of\nPotters Earth, glaz\u2019d or varnish\u2019d and bak\u2019d, or else of Stone, Metal,\nWood or the like. Some of all these kinds Mr. _Greaves_ brought over,\nand particularly mentions one cut out of a _Magnes_ or Loadstone, in\nthe form and bigness of a _Scarab\u00e6us_: See _p._ 48. of his\n_Pyramidographia_. _Camerarius_, _Horar. subcisivar._ Cent. 1. cap. 14.\nspeaks more remarkably of those made of Brass, [Sidenote:\n_Brass-Images_,] affirming they were chiefly us\u2019d in that manner, by\nreason they had great Virtue to preserve dead Bodies from Putrifaction,\nespecially, since _Pierius_ in his Book of _Hieroglyphics_ witnesses,\nthat Brass-Nails were stuck into the Body for the same purpose; but this\nis not to be credited by any one physically skill\u2019d in the Virtues of\nMinerals, _&c._ We have more reason to believe these Idols were so\nplac\u2019d out of Superstition, especially seeing many are the Figures of\n_Isis_, _Osiris_, and other Gods; nor did they only place them in the\ninside of dead Bodies, but also hung them there on the out-side, sewing\nthem to the Roulers and Ornaments, and likewise plac\u2019d them in their\nSepulchres: These from their Office or Use were distinguish\u2019d by several\nNames, [Sidenote: _Averruncal_ and] such as _Averruncal_ or _Apotrop\u00e6an_\nGods, so call\u2019d because they were thought to avert Evil; [Sidenote:\n_Prophylactic_ Statues.] others were term\u2019d _Prophylactic_ Statues or\nPortable _Amulets_, which they carry\u2019d as Charms about their Necks, Arms\nand Girdles; and a third sort, in general Esteem among them, [Sidenote:\n_Serapes._] were the _Serapes_, the same with what the _Hebrews_ call\u2019d\n_Teraphim_, the _Latins_, _Penates_ and _Lares_, being _Tutelar_ Gods,\nappointed to defend and keep certain Places, and some of these they\ncarry\u2019d along with them where-ever they went. Of this number were\n_Osiris_, _Isis_, _Nepthe_, _Horus_, _Harpocrates_, _Arveris_, _Apopis_\nand innumerable others of the like kind, which altho\u2019 they were all in\nthe Nature of _Genii_, and the same in Substance, differing only in\ntheir Effects, yet, says _Kircher_, as they were deputed to the Custody\nof private Things, so they obtain\u2019d the Name of _Tutelar_ Gods, and were\naccordingly Worshipp\u2019d for private Deities. Thus some were Country-Gods,\nothers Defenders of Cities, and a third sort Keepers of private Houses.\nThere have been great numbers of these brought out of _Egypt_, of\nvarious sizes and compos\u2019d of different Matter, such as Earth, Stone,\nWood, Metal or the like, [Sidenote: Their _Forms_ and _Actions_.]\ndiffering both in Form and Actions, some appearing like _Mummies_ and\nroul\u2019d up in the same manner, others with deform\u2019d and threatning\nCountenances thereby to strike an awe and terrifie, to which purpose\nthey held various Instruments in their Hands, such as Hooks and\nHarping-Irons, Sheilds, Whips, and the like; but all these kinds of\nStatues were adorn\u2019d with _Hieroglyphic_ Characters both before and\nbehind, nay, some all over, whence they came to be call\u2019d\n_Polycharacteristic_ Statues, of which you may see above 50 several\nFigures, with their Descriptions, in _Kircher_\u2019s Book before-mention\u2019d,\n_Syntagma_ 16, 17, 18 and 19. I shall here therefore only insert two\nPlates out of _Johannes Nardius_\u2019s Annotations on _Lucretius_, whereof\nall the Statues and Figures were in his own Custody and _Mus\u00e6um_, and of\nwhich the first Plate represents the foreside and backside of eight\nWooden Images, without either Arms or Legs, adorn\u2019d in a manner with the\nsame Dresses, Ornaments and Characters as the _Mummies_, about a Cubit\nand half long, which the _Egyptians_ were wont to place on their Tombs\nand Coffins, as may be seen at _p._ 203. The 9th Figure shews a Linnen\nOrnament for the Breast, distinctly painted with divers Colours, wherein\nwas express\u2019d the true way of opening Bodies in order to their\n_Embalming_; from which also appears, that they open\u2019d the _Thorax_,\ntho\u2019 neither _Herodotus_ nor _Diodorus Siculus_ make any mention\nthereof. The 10th Figure shews an Alabaster-Urn or Pot mark\u2019d with\n_Hieroglyphics_, and fill\u2019d with _Asphalt_, with which they us\u2019d to\n_Embalm_ their Bodies, and the 11th is the Cover of the Pot with a Dog\u2019s\nHead on it.\n[Illustration:\n  M: V^{dr}: Gucht Sculp.\n  To Doctor Hans Sloane who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work,\n    this Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\nThe second Plate represents such Figures as the _Egyptians_ hung on\ntheir _Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies, which were made of glaz\u2019d and colour\u2019d Earth,\nor else of Brass: The first nine are deform\u2019d, with horrid Countenances,\neither of Men or Animals, some joyning their Hands, others bearing on\ntheir Knees, or else hanging them down. The 1st and 9th, which look most\nterrible with a Lion\u2019s Countenance, represent the _Mopht\u00e6i Genii_; the\n2d has the Face of the Dog _Anubis_; the 3d and 7th have the monstrous\nBeards of the Priests of _Isis_; the 4th and 6th are the _Nepth\u00e6i_; the\n5th represents _Horus_, a Boy with a monstrous Head; the 8th has the\nFace of a Boy likewise, with a loop-hole on the Back, to sew it to the\n_Mummies_, as have also the 1st, 2d, 4th, 6th, 20th, 21st and 25th\nFigures, tho\u2019 not altogether so conspicuous. The 12th and 14th, as also\nthe 19th and 25th are the same, with the 1st and 9th, signifying the\n_Genii Mopht\u00e6i_; the 11th and 15th are the same with the 4th and 6th;\nthe 16th, 21st and 23d carry great Stones on their Heads and Shoulders,\nas it were threatning to fling them at such as offer\u2019d to disturb them,\nor else to bury them under them; the 10th is a _Scarab\u00e6us_; the 13th a\n_Phallus occulatus_, which they carry\u2019d about with them as one of the\ngreatest _Amulets_ they could use against Sterility; the 17th and 18th\nare two Crocodiles, likewise carry\u2019d along with them to appease\n_Typhon_; the 20th and 24th with Hawks Heads represent _Osiris_; the 22d\nis most monstrous of all, carrying a Bushel on its Head, all the Figure\nbeing compos\u2019d of Head and Belly. It denotes _Serapis_, of whom they say\nthere was a Statue in _Alexandria_ of that Magnitude, that it touch\u2019d\nboth sides of the _Serapian_ Temple; the 26th is _Harpocrates_ holding\nhis Finger on his Mouth, to shew the Silence religiously observ\u2019d by the\n_Egyptians_ in their Mysteries; the 27th is the Ox _Apis_, before\ndescrib\u2019d _p._ 200, and the 28th the Statue of _Isis_, giving Suck to\nher Son _Horus_.\n[Illustration:\n  J. Nutting Sculp.\n  To Doctor William Gibbons who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work\n    this Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\nThese were the true _Phylacteric_ and _Averruncal_ Statues of the\n_Egyptians_, some made portable with Handles, and others with a square\npiece of Wood proceeding from their Pedestal, whereby they were the\nbetter fix\u2019d on Tombs. Some again were put within the Bellies of the\nMummies, and others hung about the outsides of them, and that as well to\npreserve the Bodies from Putrifaction as the Sepulchres from Rapine,\n[Sidenote: Their _Use_ and _Virtues_.] which they were suppos\u2019d to\neffect by their Divine Power, or Magical Virtue, or else by their\nterrible and deform\u2019d Countenances were thought to strike a Dread into\nevery approaching Adversary.\nThus the Body being _Embalm\u2019d_ and adorn\u2019d with _Hieroglyphic_\nCharacters, magical Amulets, Statues and the like, and every thing else\ngot ready for the Funeral, it was on the last Day or Time appointed for\nthe Burial, put on board a Ship call\u2019d _Barris_, and by the Ferry-Man,\n_Charon_, [Sidenote: _Charon._] wafted o\u2019er the Lake _Acherusia_; which\nlies on the _South_ side of _Memphis_, where being landed on a Plain,\nthe chief Burial-Place of the _Egyptians_, and which is fabl\u2019d by the\n_Greeks_ to be the _Elysian_ Fields, they plac\u2019d the Corps on a Bier,\nbefore the Mouth of the Sepulchre, when the Judges, Priests and common\nPeople surrounding it, [Sidenote: Manner of _Judging_ the _Dead_.] one\nwho was purposely appointed to rehearse impartially the\n_Funeral-Oration_, openly declar\u2019d the Virtues, Vices and Actions, nay\nwhole Life and Conversation of the Deceas\u2019d, and after all the Evidences\nwere examin\u2019d (every one having a free power to accuse the dead Person)\naccording to the majority of Votes and judgment of the Judges, the Corps\nwas dispos\u2019d of. If he had liv\u2019d Virtuously he was honour\u2019d with the\ngreatest Praises and Commendations, and consequently magnificently\nInterr\u2019d; but if Viciously, he was mightily exclaim\u2019d against and\ndepriv\u2019d of Sepulture. This made even the Kings themselves to live\nuprightly, fearing so much as to anger the common People whilst alive,\nlest they should thereby incur their eternal Hatred after their Death.\nThis Custom of the _Egyptians_ examining and trying their Dead,\n_Bossuet_ in his History of the World, _p._ 457, takes notice of as a\nvery extraordinary kind of Judgment which none escap\u2019d, affirming, \u2018It\nwas a Consolation at the Time of Death to leave their Names in esteem\namong Men, and of all Human Blessings, this was the only one which Death\ncannot ravish from us; but it was not suffer\u2019d in _Egypt_ to commend all\nthe Dead indifferently, that was an Honour to be had only from a public\nJudgment. The public Accuser was heard, if he prov\u2019d the Conduct of the\nDeceas\u2019d bad, then was his Memory condemn\u2019d and he depriv\u2019d of\nSepulture. The People admir\u2019d the power of their Laws, which reach\u2019d\nthem even after Death, and every one being touch\u2019d by the Example, was\nafraid to dishonour his Memory and Family: But if the Defunct was not\nconvicted of any Crime, then had he an honourable Interment. They made\nhis Panegyric, but medled not in the least with his Birth: All _Egypt_\nwas Noble, and besides, they receiv\u2019d no farther Commendations than what\nthey had got by their Merits. Moreover, the _Egyptians_ were very\ncurious in Preserving dead Bodies: Thus their Gratitude to their Kindred\nbecame Immortal. Children, by seeing the Bodies of their Ancestors,\ncall\u2019d to mind their Virtues, which the Public had made such\nAcknowledgements to, and they were incited to love those Laws which had\nso recommended them to them. This Custom of Judging Kings after their\nDeaths, says he _p._ 457. seem\u2019d so holy to the People of GOD, that they\nhave always practis\u2019d it. We read in the Scriptures wicked Kings have\nbeen depriv\u2019d of the Burial of their Ancestors; and we learn from\n_Josephus_, that that Custom lasted even to the Time of the _Asmoneans_:\nThis gave Kings to understand, that tho\u2019 their Majesty put them above\nHuman Judgments whilst alive, yet were they not above them when Death\nhad equall\u2019d them with other Men. Likewise our Author further adds, _p._\n454. That to prevent borrowing, which was the Parent of Idleness, Frauds\nand Branglings, the Decree of King _Asychis_ did not suffer any to\nborrow, [Sidenote: _Pawning_ the _Dead_.] but on condition he pawn\u2019d the\nBody of his Ancestor to him of whom he borrow\u2019d; and it was reputed both\nan Impiety and Infamy together not to redeem it so soon as ever he\ncould, so precious a Pledge was it reckon\u2019d, and he that dy\u2019d before he\nhad acquitted himself of that Duty, was deny\u2019d Burial.\u2019\nNow how the Bodies, which are said to have been bury\u2019d, were laid up, is\nsomewhat difficult to determine, since Authors speak so variously of\ntheir Burial; for some say they were bury\u2019d either in their private or\nproper Sepulchres, or else in a public Reconditory, and others say they\nkept the Dead in their Dwelling-Houses. Now which of these was most us\u2019d\nby such as could indifferently afford the Expence of either, I will not\npretend to determine, however, the great variety of Sepulchres, found\neven at this Day, plainly proves they bury\u2019d in the Fields and Plains,\nwhereas the other is but traditionally asserted, yet not altogether\nimprobable to be done by so Superstitious a People, of whom it is\nreported that some, especially the richer Sort, put their _Embalm\u2019d_\nBodies in Cases carv\u2019d after their own likeness, [Sidenote: The _Dead_\nkept in _Houses_,] and these they set up in their Halls or Parlours in\ngreat Order (perhaps in Niches) being very richly adorn\u2019d, where they\ntook great delight to see a long Race of their Ancestors, in a manner,\nwith as great satisfaction as if they were alive, and they were\nConversing with them. Nay, _Herodotus_, _Pomponius Mela_ and _Lucian_\nassert, [Sidenote: and plac\u2019d at _Table_.] they plac\u2019d them at Table\nlike Guests, and made merry with them by Eating and Drinking; yet, when\nthey were necessitous, they scrupl\u2019d not to give them as a Pledge for\nMoney they borrow\u2019d, yet then took particular Care, both punctually to\npay the one and redeem the other: But as for such as bury\u2019d their Dead\nout of their Houses and Villages, in the Fields and Plains, they built\nSepulchres for them as noble as possible, some after one Fashion, and\nsome after another, every one according to their own Fancy, or the\nCharges they could best spare; for they chose rather to have their\nMonuments magnificently built than their Dwelling-Houses, laughing at\nthe _Greeks_ and other Nations, who caus\u2019d theirs to be rais\u2019d with\ngreat expence like to Palaces, notwithstanding they were to live but a\nvery little while in them, and at the same time neglected their Tombs,\nwhere they were to lye for a much longer Time. But the _Egyptians_ acted\njust contrary; they despis\u2019d the present Life, and took little care in\nbuilding their Habitations, looking upon them only as so many Inns or\nBaiting-Places, where they were to Inhabit but for a Season, whereas the\nGlory of a future Life, that was to be procur\u2019d by Virtue, they greatly\nesteem\u2019d, and consequently spent their whole Care, Study and Riches\nabout the magnificence of their Sepulchres, [Sidenote: _Sepulchres_\ncall\u2019d _Eternal Houses_.] which they call\u2019d Sempiternal or Eternal\nHouses, looking upon the Time they were to dwell here on Earth as\nnothing, in respect of the stay they were to make in the Grave. And\nhence it is no Nation in the World has been so curious as the\n_Egyptians_ in their Funeral Ceremonies, Preserving the Dead, and\nmagnificence of Sepulchres, which, besides abundance of private\nStructures, those Obelisks at _Rome_ and the Pyramids of _Egypt_, do not\nonly testifie, but will for ever be numbred among the Wonders of the\nWorld.\nThese, Sir, are my humble Thoughts and Opinion concerning the Funerals\nof the _Egyptians_, which I entirely submit to your better Judgment,\nhoping you will pardon this Interruption of your precious Time from more\nweighty Concerns, and candidly accept the mean, but grateful Performance\nof,\n  _To Doctor_ Hans Sloane, _Secretary to the Royal Society, and Fellow\n    of the College of Phisicians_, London.\n SIR,\nIn considering the Nature of the _Egyptian Pyramids_, _Subterranean\nVaults_ and _Lamps_, I not only found in them much Magnificence, but\nmore Curiosity, insomuch that tho\u2019 the first were justly reputed Wonders\nof the World, yet are the last as surprizing and unaccountable, even to\nthe most inquisitive Naturalist, or expert Chymist. Now well knowing\nyour incomparable Library contains the most curious Books wrote on this\nSubject, as also that your unparalell\u2019d _Mus\u00e6um_ is furnish\u2019d with a\ngreat variety of Lamps, Lacrimatories, Averruncal Gods, and the like\nRarities, taken out of the _Pyramids_ and Subterranean Places of\n_Egypt_, I thought it not only proper to beg your Patronage of the\nfollowing Sheets, but likewise believ\u2019d my self oblig\u2019d to return such\nAcknowledgments for your many Favours as I was best able to make, in as\nmuch as you are both a great Promoter of Arts and Sciences in general,\nand have more particularly been pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work of mine:\nBut as to write a Panegyric on your Merit and Virtues would look too\nmuch like Flattery, so, entirely to pass them by without taking any\nnotice of them, would no less savour of Ingratitude, therefore I must\nneeds desire leave to say, That the Judgment of the Royal Society, Men\nof the most polite Learning in the World, in choosing you for their\nSecretary, is a sufficient Argument of your great Worth and acute\nDiscernment; but your Candour will appear in nothing so much as in\naccepting this succinct Account of the _Pyramids_, Subterranean Vaults\nand Lamps of the _Egyptians_, whilst you have by you the Learned Mr.\n_Greaves_\u2019s _Pyramidographia_, with the several Accounts of _Licetus_,\n_Bellori_, and other Writers about _Lamps_, &c. Now whereas in the\nforegoing Letter was fully shown the manner of preparing dead Bodies and\nrendring them durable, in this I chiefly intend to speak of the\nSepulchres or Repositories wherein they were laid; for as much as the\n_Egyptians_ did not only content themselves with _Embalming_ their Dead,\nbut likewise with equal Care provided Conditories that might be lasting\nas the Body, and in which it might continue safe from the Injuries both\nof Time and Men, because they religiously believ\u2019d that so long as the\nBody indur\u2019d, so long would the Soul continue with it, not as a\nquickning or animating Spirit, but as an Attendant or Guardian, and\nwithout going into any other Body, as otherwise they thought it would;\nso that after they had preserv\u2019d the Dead from Putrifaction, they next\nentomb\u2019d them in firm and stately Monuments, such as were at first those\nMercurial Sepulchres of hard Marble of a Spherical Figure, as _Strabo_\nrecords, and those wonderful ones of the antient Kings of _Thebes_ in\n_Egypt_, which _Diodorus Siculus_, Lib. 1. mentions, and such were also\nthe _Hypog\u00e6a_, those Caves or Dormitories cut out in the _Lybian_\nDesarts, by the _Egyptians_ of lower Quality, which are now term\u2019d the\nMummies. Of the same Nature likewise are the stately _Pyramids_ built by\ntheir Kings, [Sidenote: _Pyramids_ to what end built.] all being\ndesign\u2019d to secure the Dead, after they were _Embalm\u2019d_, from the\nInjuries of the _Nile_ or Weather, the rapine of an Enemy or any\nvoracious Animal; and that so the Soul might be still oblig\u2019d to attend\nthem: But besides this general Reason why these Reconditories were\nbuilt, which was to preserve the Dead from all external Violence,\n[Sidenote: Why of a _Pyramidal_ form.] there were two special ones why\nthey were made in a _Pyramidal_ form. The first was, in that this Figure\nappears most permanent and durable, as being neither so liable to be\nover-press\u2019d by its own weight at top, nor to be undermin\u2019d by the\nsinking in of Rain at the bottom, as other Buildings are. The second\nwas, because these Structures were intended to represent some of the\n_Egyptian_ Deities; for, in the most antient Times, _Pyramidal_ Columns\nor Obelisks were worshipp\u2019d as Images of the Gods, before the exact Art\nof Carving Statues was found out, and so as _Isis Cornigera_ represented\nthe Horns of the Moon, in like manner might these _Pyramids_ represent\nthe Rays of the Sun, which the _Egyptians_ worshipp\u2019d under the name of\n_Osiris_. As to the number of _Pyramids_ to be seen in _Egypt_,\n[Sidenote: Their number.] _Bellonius_ very much exceeds the Account\ngiven us by other Travellers, for he makes them above 100, whereas\n_Greaves_ says there are not 20, and Prince _Radzivil_ reckon\u2019d but 17.\nThree of these are the most remarkable, being built on _Africa_ side,\n[Sidenote: Scituation.] on a rocky and barren Hill, between the City\n_Memphis_ and the Place call\u2019d _Delta_, from the _Nile_ less than four\nMiles, from _Memphis_ six, and near to _Busiris_, a Village from whence\nPeople are wont to ascend up to them, _Pliny_ Lib. 36. cap. 12. _Le\nBruyn_ has given us this Drawing of them, together with the _Sphinx_\nwhich he made on the spot, whilst the _French_ Consul and some of his\nCompany were refreshing themselves under its Shade.\nThese three _Pyramids_ were not erected by the _Israelites_, under the\nTyranny of the _Pharaohs_, as _Josephus_ and some modern Writers affirm;\nfor the Scripture says positively, the Slavery of the _Jews_ consisted\nin making and burning Brick, whereas all these _Pyramids_ were made of\nStone. The first and greatest of them was built, [Sidenote: Who were the\n_Founders_ of them.] says _Herodotus_, by _Cheops_ (stil\u2019d by _Diodorus\nSiculus_, _Chemmis_) who succeeded _Rhampsinitus_ in the Kingdom of\n_Egypt_. He adds, that the Stones were dug out of the Quarries of an\n_Arabian_ Mountain, and from thence carry\u2019d to the _Nile_; that there\nwere employ\u2019d in the Work Ten Miriads or a Hundred Thousand Men, every\nThree Months a Myriad; that the whole _Pyramid_ was finish\u2019d in 20\nYears, whereof 10 were spent in conveying the Stones to the Place of\nbuilding.\n[Illustration: J. Kip Sculp\n  To M^r. Francis Moult Chymist who has been Pleas'd to encourage this\nWork, this Plate is humbly dedicated by His most humble Servant Thomas\nGreenhill. ]\nThe second _Pyramid_, like the first in respect to its Workmanship, but\nfar inferior in regard of its Magnitude, was built by the Successor to\n_Cheops_, who was _Cephren_ his Brother, as _Herodotus_ and _Diodorus\nSiculus_ agree.\nThe third _Pyramid_, less than either of the two former, was built by\n_Mycerinus_, Son of _Cheops_ or _Chemmis_, says _Herodotus_. Other\nWriters give different Names to the Founders of these _Pyramids_; but\nthis is what is most probable among their various Opinions, according to\nMr. _Greaves_. Besides these three now in being, _Herodotus_ mentions a\nfourth built of Brick by _Asychis_, who succeeded _Mycerinus_, and\nanother in which _Imandes_ was bury\u2019d, at the end of the Labyrinth built\nby the 12 Kings of _Egypt_. Also long before any of these, _M\u0153ris_ in\nhis wonderful Lake, had erected two _Pyramids_, one for himself and\nanother for his Wife, both long since gone to ruine; but there are many\nyet standing in the _Lybian_ Desart, whose Founders none of the antient\nWriters have ever nam\u2019d. Among these one is no less worthy of Memory\nthan either of the three former, it standing about 20 Miles distant from\nthem, more within the sandy Desart, and appearing to have the same\nDimensions, the same Steps without as the first has, to be of the same\nColour, and to have an Entrance like it on the North side, which is\nbarr\u2019d up within, and so whatever is said of the first in respect to its\nout-side may be applicable to this last, therefore one Description may\nserve for both.\n[Illustration:\n  The outside of the First and Fairest Pyramid.\n  J. Nutting Sculp.\n  To his Grace Thomas Lord Arch-Bishop of Canterbury, who has been\n    pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work, this Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His Grace\u2019s most obedient humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\n[Sidenote: A Description of the first and fairest _Pyramid_.]\nThe first and fairest of the three great _Pyramids_ is scituate on the\ntop of a rocky Hill, in the sandy Desart of _Lybia_, about a quarter of\na Mile distant Westward from the Plains of _Egypt_, the height of the\nscituation giving Beauty as the solidity of the Rock does firmness to\nthe Superstructure. The Basis is exactly four square, and the North side\nof it being measur\u2019d by Mr. _Greaves_ with a _Radius_ of 10 Foot, was\nfound to be 693 _English_ Foot, and the Altitude being measur\u2019d by its\nPerpendicular, was found to be 481 Foot; but if taken as it ascends\ninclining, then is it equal to the Basis, which is 693 Foot. To give a\ntrue Idea of the just Dimensions of this _Pyramid_, we must imagine on\nthe sides of the Basis, which is exactly square, four equilateral\nTriangles mutually propending, till they all meet at the top as it were\nin a point; for so the _Perimeter_ of each Triangle comprehending 2079\nFoot, and the _Perimeter_ of the Basis 2772 Foot, the whole Area of the\nBasis will contain 480249 square Foot, or about 11 _English_ Acres of\nGround, which is a Proportion so monstrous, that it might seem\nincredible were it not attested by the Ancients to be so much, and by\nsome of them more. The Ascent to the top of the _Pyramid_, from all the\nsides without, is by Degrees or Steps; the lowermost Degree is near four\nFoot in height, and three in breadth, which goes about the _Pyramid_ in\na level: The second Degree is like the first, only it retires inward\nnear three Foot; after the same manner is the third Row, and so the\nrest, rising like so many Stairs one above another to the top, which\nends not in a point, but in a little flat, and is about 13 Foot broad,\nbeing cover\u2019d with nine Stones, besides two which are wanting at the\nAngles. The Degrees by which we ascend are not of an equal depth, for\nsome are near four Foot, others want of three, and the higher we ascend,\nthe depth grows the less, and so in proportion does the breadth also.\nThese rows of Stones are much impair\u2019d by the Weather, yet every Step,\nwhich is but one single Stone, is at least 30 cubical Feet; the number\nof Degrees from the bottom to the top is 207 or 208. Some of the\nAncients have reported, that this _Pyramid_ casts no Shadow, which must\nbe meant in the Summer-Time and at Mid-Day, for in the Winter Mr.\n_Greaves_ saw it cast a Shadow at Noon. Thus far concerning the out-side\nor Superficies of the greater _Pyramid_, with the Figure and Dimensions\nof it; next Mr. _Greaves_ gives a particular Account of what he found\nwithin it, of which, if the Ancients have been silent, he imputes it\nchiefly to a reverend and awful Regard mix\u2019d with Superstition, in not\npresuming to enter those Chambers of Death, which Religion and Devotion\nhad consecrated to the Rest and Quiet of the Dead. And first he tells us\nhow he ascended on the North side 38 Foot, on an artificial Bank of\nEarth, when he and his Company enter\u2019d, [Sidenote: The _Entrance_.] with\nTapers in their Hands, thro\u2019 a square narrow Passage three Foot broad\nand 92 long, the Declivity of which was gradually so strait, that they\nwere forc\u2019d, at the farther end, to creep on their Bellies. After this,\nhaving pass\u2019d thro\u2019 a place in which they found ugly large Bats above a\nFoot long, they enter\u2019d the first Gallery, [Sidenote: First and second\n_Gallery_.] the Pavement of which was of white and pollish\u2019d Marble,\nrising with a gentle Acclivity, being about five Foot broad, as many\nhigh, and 110 Foot long: At the end of this begins the second Gallery, a\nvery stately piece of Work, and not inferiour, either in respect of the\ncuriosity of Art or richness of Materials, to the most sumptuous and\nmagnificent Buildings. \u2019Tis divided from the former by a Wall, thro\u2019\nwhich they pass\u2019d stooping along a square hole, much about the same\nbigness as the entrance of the _Pyramid_, but of no considerable length\nyet level: At the end of this Hole on the right Hand, [Sidenote: The\n_Well_.] they found the Well mention\u2019d by _Pliny_ to be 86 Cubits in\ndepth, into which, he probably imagines, the Water of the River _Nile_\nwas brought by some secret Aqueduct, and _Bellonius_ thinks, out of this\nWell the Workmen drew the Water which they drank, as likewise that it\nserv\u2019d them to dilute the Mortar they us\u2019d in the Masons Work of the\nBuilding; but others affirm, that after having descended 67 Foot strait\ndownwards, there is a square Window which leads into a Grot or Cave dug\nout of a Hill found there, not of living or solid Stone, but of Sand\ncondens\u2019d and press\u2019d together; it extends in length from East to West\n15 Foot lower, and consequently 82 from the top. There is a Way dug in\nthe Rock two Foot and half wide, whose descent downwards is very crooked\nthe length of 123 Foot, at the end of which it is fill\u2019d with Sand and\nBats nastiness: As \u2019tis said a _Scotch_ Gentleman found it out, of whom\nthe _Sieur Thevenot_ makes mention in his Travels. _Le Bruyn_ thinks it\nprobable, that this Well was made to let down the Corps into, that were\nput in the Cavities that are under the _Pyramids_, but would not venture\nthe Experiment of going down to see. _Greaves_ also thinks this Well was\nthe Passage to those secret Vaults, mention\u2019d, but not describ\u2019d by\n_Herodotus_, which were hewn out of the natural Rock, over which this\n_Pyramid_ was erected. This Well, says the former, is circular and about\nthree Foot over; the sides of it are lin\u2019d with white Marble, and the\ndescent into it is by fixing the Hands and Feet in little open spaces,\ncut into the sides within, opposite and answerable to one another in a\nperpendicular. But by his measure, sounding it with a Line, he found it\nonly 20 Foot deep, the rest, as he supposes, has almost been damm\u2019d up\nand choak\u2019d with Rubbage. Thence going strait forward the distance of 15\nFoot, they entred another square Passage, opposite to the former and of\nthe same bigness, the Stones being very massy and exquisitely joyn\u2019d;\nthis led, at the extent of 110 Foot, into an arch\u2019d Vault or little\nChamber, standing East and West, about 20 Foot long, 17 broad and 15\nhigh: The Walls were plaister\u2019d over with Lime, but the Roof was cover\u2019d\nwith large smooth Stones, which lay shelving and met above in a kind of\nArch or rather Angle. Returning back the same way they came, and being\nout of this low and square Passage, they clim\u2019d over it, and going\nstrait on in the trace of the second Gallery, on a shelving Pavement\n(like that of the first) rising with an Angle of 26 Degrees, they at\nlength came to another Partition, being 154 Foot distant from the Well\nbelow and the length of the Gallery. Here if we consider the narrow\nEntrance or Mouth of the _Pyramid_ which descends, and the length of the\nfirst and second Galleries that ascend, all of them lying as it were in\nthe same continu\u2019d Line, and leading towards the middle of the\n_Pyramid_, one may easily apprehend the Reason of that strange Eccho\nwithin of four or five Voices, [Sidenote: A strange _Eccho_.] mention\u2019d\nby _Plutarch_, or rather of a long continued Sound, as Mr. _Greaves_\nfound by experience in discharging a Gun; for the Sound being carry\u2019d\nthro\u2019 those Passages, and finding no vent outwards reflects on it self,\nand causes a confus\u2019d noise, which by degrees ceases. This Gallery is\nbuilt of white Marble, cut very exactly into spacious squares and\npollish\u2019d; also the Roof and sides of the Wall are of the same Stone, so\nclosely joynted as scarce to be discern\u2019d by the most curious Eye, and\ntho\u2019 the acclivity or rising of the Ascent make the Passage more\ndifficult and slippery, yet is it nevertheless very beautiful. The\nheight of this Gallery is 26 Foot, the breadth six, of which three are\nto be allow\u2019d for the way in the midst, which is set and bounded on both\nsides with Seats (like Benches) of pollish\u2019d Stone; each of these is\nabove one Foot in breadth and no less in depth. On the top of these\nBenches near the Angle, where they close and joyn with the Wall, are\nlittle Spaces cut in right angl\u2019d parallel Figures, on each side\nopposite to one another, intended, no doubt, for some other end than\nOrnament. In casting and ranging the Marble in both the side Walls, all\nthe Courses, which are but seven, (so great are those Stones) lye and\nflag over one another about three Inches, as is better to be conceiv\u2019d\nby Figure 2 at _p._ 314. than by any Description I can give.\n[Illustration:\n  The inside of the First & fairest Pyramid.\n  _If we imagin the whole_ Pyramid _to be divided in y^e midst, by a_\n    Plan _extended from the North side to the South: the_ Entrance,\n    Galleries, _and_ Chambers, _with y^e several passages to them, will\n    appear in this manner_.\n  J. Nutting Sculp.\n  To M^r. John Thorpe, M.A.\n  of University College in Oxford, who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage\n    this Work, this Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\n[Illustration:\n  J. Kip Sculp.\n  To M^r. Joseph Whiston, Drugster, who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage\n    this Work, this Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\n[Sidenote: _Le Bruyn_\u2019s Description of the _Gallery_.]\n_Le Bruyn_ in his Voyage to the _Levant_, p. 139. writes more\nparticularly of this Gallery, after the following manner: \u2018Being\nreturn\u2019d, says he, from the Horizontal Way, which is on the right Hand,\nwe enter\u2019d the other on the left, which is six Foot four Inches wide,\nand rises also the length of 162 Foot. On each side the Wall is a\nStone-Bench two Foot and half high, and pretty broad, which serves to\ntake hold by in going up, to which the Holes that are made almost every\nstep in the Wall, are of no small Service, yet are they altogether\nconfus\u2019d and without order. It is not known by whom they were made; but\nthose that go to see the _Pyramids_ are extreamly oblig\u2019d to them\nhowever, for without these Holes it would be impossible to get up, and a\nMan must likewise be very strong and in health that can do so by the\nhelp of them, and the Stone-Bench by which one holds fast with one Hand\nwhile the other holds the Candle; add to this, that a Man must make\nlarge steps, because these Holes are six Hands breadth distant from each\nother. This Ascent, which cannot be conceiv\u2019d without admiration, may\nwell pass for what is most considerable in the _Pyramids_; for the\nStones which compose the Walls are as smooth as Looking-Glass, and so\nwell joyn\u2019d together, that one would be apt to take them for one single\nStone. The same may be said of the Pavement. The Roof is here exceeding\nhigh and so very sumptuous, that \u2019tis better to be represented than\ndescrib\u2019d; I therefore made this Draft of it, while my Countryman\n_Adrian van Bierbeck_ rested himself on the Bench that is on the left\nHand, and some of our Company were already got up with their Lights into\nthe Chamber where the Tomb or Sepulchre is, which gave me opportunity to\ntake a view of all the Roof more at large.\u2019\nBut to return to Mr. _Greaves_\u2019s Account, he says, That after having\npass\u2019d this Gallery, they enter\u2019d another square Hole of the same\nDimension with the former, [Sidenote: Two _Anti-Closets_.] which brought\nthem into two _Anti-Closets_ lin\u2019d with a rich and speckl\u2019d sort of\n_Thebaic_ Marble. The first of these had almost the same Dimensions as\nthe second. The second was thus proportion\u2019d: The _Area_ was level, the\nFigure of it oblong, the one side containing seven Foot, the other three\nand a half, and the height was of 10 Foot. This inner _Anti-Closet_ was\nseparated from the former by a Stone of red speckl\u2019d Marble, which hung\nin two Mortices (like the Leaf of a Sluce) between two Walls, more than\nthree Foot above the Pavement, and wanting only two of the Roof. Out of\nthis Closet they enter\u2019d another square Hole of the same wideness and\nDimensions with the rest, and near nine Foot long, all of _Thebaic_\nMarble most exquisitely wrought, which landed them at the North end of a\nvery sumptuous Room. The distance from the end of the second Gallery to\nthis Entry is 24 Foot. [Sidenote: A spacious _Chamber_] This rich and\nspacious Chamber, in which Art may seem to have contended with Nature,\nthe curious Workmanship being not inferiour to the rich Materials, lies\nabout the Center of the _Pyramid_. The Floor, Roof and Sides of it are\nall compos\u2019d of vast Tables of _Thebaic_ Marble, very gracefully siz\u2019d\nand plac\u2019d. The nine Stones which cover the Roof are of a prodigious\nlength, like so many huge Beams traversing the Room, and supporting the\nprodigious mass of the _Pyramid_ above: The length of this Chamber is\nabout 34 Foot, the breadth 17, the height 19 and a half. [Sidenote:\nwherein stands _Cheops_\u2019s Tomb.] Within this glorious Room stands the\nMonument of _Cheops_ or _Chemmis_, of one piece of Marble, hollow\nwithin, uncover\u2019d at the top, and sounding like a Bell, without any\nSculpture or Embossment. But \u2019tis the common Opinion, after _Diodorus\nSiculus_, that neither _Chemmis_ nor his Successor _Cephren_ were bury\u2019d\nin their _Pyramids_, because, says he, the People being over work\u2019d by\nthem with hard Labour, threatned to tear their dead Bodies to pieces,\nand throw them out of these Sepulchres, therefore they on their\nDeath-Beds commanded their Servants to bury them in some obscure Place,\n_Diod._ Lib. 1. This Monument is of the same _Thebaic_ Marble with the\nwhole Room, being speckl\u2019d with black, white and red Spots, and\nresembling two Cubes finely set together, and hollow\u2019d within. \u2019Tis\nseven Foot three Inches and half long, in breadth and depth three Foot\nthree Inches and three quarters on the out-side, but within \u2019tis\nsomething less, which shows that the Men of this Age are of the same\nStature with those that liv\u2019d near 3000 Years ago, tho\u2019 some famous Men\nhave thought the contrary. If any ask how this Monument could be\nconvey\u2019d into this Chamber, since \u2019tis impossible for it to enter by\nthose narrow Passages in the _Pyramid_ which lead to it, I answer, It\nmust have been rais\u2019d and convey\u2019d up from without by some Engine,\nbefore the Chamber was finish\u2019d and the Roof clos\u2019d: Thus far _Greaves_.\n_Sandys_, p. 99. says, This _Pyramid_ which is the greatest of the\nthree, [Sidenote: How many _Workmen_ employ\u2019d in the _Building_ it.] and\nchief of the Worlds VII Wonders, employ\u2019d 366000 Workmen continually in\nbuilding it for the space of 20 Years, in which Time they consum\u2019d in\nRadishes, Garlick and Onions only, 1800 Talents. Nor has Time, which\ndevours the proudest Structures, humbl\u2019d this lofty Edifice, tho\u2019 \u2019tis\nvery probably conjectur\u2019d to have stood 3300 Years, and is now rather\nold than ruinous, yet the North side is most worn by reason of the\nhumidity of the Northern Winds, which are here the moistest.\n[Sidenote: The second _Pyramid_.]\nThe second _Pyramid_ is hardly distant the flight of an Arrow from the\nfirst, and is all built of Stones of a whitish colour, nothing so large\nas those of the first. The sides rise not by Degrees or Steps like those\nof the former, but are smooth and equal, and the whole Fabrick seems\nvery entire, except on the South-side. Tho\u2019 this _Pyramid_ is generally\nthought to be inferiour to the first in Magnitude, yet by Mr.\n_Greaves_\u2019s Observation, the height and sides of the Basis are in both\nequal. There is no Entrance into it, and therefore none can tell what\nChambers it contains; \u2019tis bounded on the North and West by two very\nstately and elaborate Structures, being 30 Foot deep, and more than 1400\nlong, cut out of the hard Rock, and squar\u2019d by a Chizzel, [Sidenote:\n_Lodgings_ of the _Priests_.] which are suppos\u2019d to be the Lodgings of\nthe Priests. They run along at a convenient distance, parallel to the\ntwo sides of this _Pyramid_, and meet in a right Angle. The Entrance\ninto them is by square Openings, hewn out of the Rock, and much of the\nsame bigness with those of the first _Pyramid_. The hollow space within\nis somewhat like a square and well proportion\u2019d Chamber, cover\u2019d and\narch\u2019d above with the natural Rock: In most of these there was a Passage\nopening into some other Apartment.\n[Sidenote: The third _Pyramid_.]\nThe third _Pyramid_ is from the second about a Furlong, and tho\u2019 it\nappears at a distance to be of an equal height with the two former, by\nreason of the advantage of its Scituation upon a higher rise of the\nHill, yet is it really much lower, each side of the Basis being but 300\nFoot long, which wants near 400 of the two others. All the antient and\nmodern Writers generally agree, this _Pyramid_ was made of black\n_Ethiopic_ Marble, whereas Mr. _Greaves_ assures us, on his own\nInspection, the whole Mass seems of a clear and white Stone, somewhat\nchoicer and brighter than that in either of the two other _Pyramids_;\nbut what the Stone within may be no Body can tell, since there never was\nany Entrance into it. At some distance South-East of the biggest\n_Pyramid_ stands the _Sphinx_, so famous among the Ancients: [Sidenote:\nThe _Sphinx_.] \u2019Tis a Statue or Image cut out of the main Rock,\nrepresenting the Head of a Woman with half her Breast, but is at present\nsunk or bury\u2019d in the Sand to the very Neck: It is an extraordinary\ngreat Mass, but withal proportionable, altho\u2019 the Head of it self be 26\nFoot high, and from the Ear to the Chin 15 Foot, according to the\nMeasure the _Sieur Thevenot_ took of it. At a distance it seems five\nStones joyn\u2019d together, but coming nearer one may discover what was\ntaken for the Joynings of the Stones, was properly nothing but the Veins\nin the Rock. _Pliny_ says, this serv\u2019d for a Tomb to King _Amasis_,\nwhich is not improbable, since it is in a Part which was formerly a kind\nof Burying-Place, and near the _Pyramids_ and Caves, which were nothing\nbut Places of Sepulture; and that according to his Calculation it was\n102 Foot in compass about the Head, 62 high and 143 in length, for the\nBody of it is suppos\u2019d to resemble a Lion or Dog. Some will have it a\ncertain _Egyptian_ King caus\u2019d this _Sphinx_ to be made in Memory of\n_Rhodope_ of _Corinth_, with whom he was passionately in Love. They say,\namong other Things, that when they consulted it at the rising of the\nSun, it answer\u2019d like an Oracle; yet most believe this was done by the\ncunning of the Priests, thro\u2019 means of some hidden Pipes or Conduits\nunder Ground, and that the Well we describ\u2019d in the great _Pyramid_ was\nmade use of for the same purpose; but what makes this appear to be\nfabulous is, that there is no perforation or opening either at the\nMouth, Nose, Eyes or Ears. Many other the like Stories Authors have\nrais\u2019d of this Statue, affirming that by the Figure of a _Sphinx_, was\nrepresented the Goddess _Momphta_, [Sidenote: It represented _Momphta_.]\nwho presided over all the Waters, and chiefly preserv\u2019d and supply\u2019d the\nCauses of the Over-flowing of the River _Nile_; as also that thereby was\nsignify\u2019d the State or Condition of that River, for as the Over-flowing\nof the _Nile_ continues all the Summer, and during the Time of Harvest,\n_viz._ in the Months of _July_ and _August_, and that in those two\nMonths, the Sun commonly runs thro\u2019 the two Signs of _Leo_ and _Virgo_,\nit was natural enough for the _Egyptians_, who had a great inclination\nfor _Hieroglyphics_ and misterious Representations, to make a Monster of\na Virgin and Lion, which they call\u2019d _Sphinx_, and consecrated to the\nRiver _Nile_; the representing of which lying on its Belly, was to\nexplain the Over-flowing of that River.\nBut to return again to the _Pyramids_, near which this _Sphinx_ stands,\n[Sidenote: _Observations_ on the _Pyramids_.] we shall add these few\nObservations of Father _Vansleb_ concerning them, _viz._ That they are\nnot built with Marble, but with a white sandy Stone exceeding hard; that\nnone of them are perfectly square, but have all two sides longer than\nthe others, which is plainly visible in the greater and the lesser\n_Pyramid_: The North side is longer than that which stretches from East\nto West, yet are they nevertheless built in very good Order, and each of\nthe three largest stand at the head of 10 lesser, which are not well to\nbe distinguish\u2019d, by reason of heaps of Sand that lye before them. They\nhave all an Entrance that leads to a low Alley, which is exceeding long,\nand has at the end a Chamber, where the antient _Egyptians_ plac\u2019d the\nBodies of those Persons for whom the _Pyramid_ was design\u2019d, tho\u2019 this\nEntrance is not to be seen in every one of them, because the Wind has\nstopp\u2019d it up with Sand. On the top of the largest _Pyramid_ was\nantiently a Statue or _Colossus_: This appears in that it is not so\nsharp as the others, but rather plain, and there are yet to be seen\ngreat Holes, which were to keep the _Colossus_ from falling; but at\npresent there is nothing to be seen at top but many Letters of the Names\nof Persons of all Nations, who had left them to witness they had been\nthere. Lastly, He makes no question but that this Place where the\n_Pyramids_ are built, was the _Burying-Place_ of the old City of\n_Memphis_, by reason all the _Arabian_ Histories inform us that this\nCity stood where the _Pyramids_ now are, over against old _Cairo_. He\nalso imagines the _Sphinx_ to be a Tomb, _First_, From its scituation in\na Place which was in former Ages a Burying-Place, and near the\n_Pyramids_ and mortuary Caves. _Secondly_, That it appears to be a\nSepulchre from its Building; for in the hinder part is a Cave under\nGround, of a bigness answerable to that of the head, into which he\nlook\u2019d by an Entrance that led into it, so that it could serve to no\nother purpose than to keep a dead Corps.\n[Sidenote: _Caves_ near the _Pyramids_.]\nFrom the _Pyramids_, _Vansleb_ went to take a View of the _Caves_ that\nare adjoyning, which formerly serv\u2019d for Places to bury the Dead in: Of\nthese there are several hollow\u2019d or cut in the side of a Rock, in bad\nOrder and without Symmetry on the out-side, but very even and well\nproportion\u2019d within: All of them have a square Well cut likewise out of\nthe Rock, in which the _Egyptians_ laid the Bodies of those for whom the\n_Cave_ had been made, it serving them for a Tomb. The Walls of some of\nthese are full of _Hieroglyphic_ Figures, cut also in the Rock; in some\nthey are but small, in others very lively. In one, says he, I counted 16\ngreat Figures, eight Men and as many Women, holding each other by the\nHand, with some other small Figures on each side.\n[Sidenote: _Subterranean Caves._]\nBut to speak more particularly of the _Subterranean Caves_, near the\nBorough of _Sacara_ in _Egypt_, we shall observe, that among the most\nremarkable Things that were found, as well in the City of _Memphis_, as\nsome Miles round about it, the _Caves_ or Tombs under Ground were the\nmost considerable, and worthy the search of the Curious. It is on these\n_Subterranean Caves_ that this City and several Places thereabouts were\nbuilt, as on so many Vaults, as the Ancients have written, and those\n_Caves_ do by far surpass the _Catacombs_ of _Rome_ both in Grandeur and\nBeauty; for the antient _Egyptians_, who maintain\u2019d the _Metempsychosis_\nor Transmigration of Souls from one Body to another, took care not only\nto preserve their Dead from Putrifaction, but also endeavour\u2019d to lay\nthem up in a secure and quiet Place of Burial: That they might therefore\ntake all manner of precaution against any alteration that might happen\nto them from the Injuries of Air, Fire, or the length of Time, they did\nnot place their Dead in Places where the River _Nile_ might overflow,\nnor in the open Fields, but either in _Pyramids_ of a more durable\ncontinuance, or in _Subterranean Vaults_ built with great care of\nStones, or lastly, in _Caves_ cut out of the Rock it self, for which the\nRegion of _Memphis_ and Places adjoyning were very proper, because they\nconsist of a Rock, which is hid under the thickness of about a Foot and\nhalf of Sand. [Sidenote: Their _Burying-Places_.] Their Burying-Places\nthen were _Subterranean Caves_ divided into several Apartments, roof\u2019d\nlike great Halls, and with so many Windings, which went from one to the\nother, that they resembl\u2019d real _Labyrinths_ or _Meanders_. According to\nthe report of the antient _Egyptians_, there was such a vast number of\nthose _Subterranean Apartments_ which butted one against another, that\nthey extended some Miles in length, even to the Temple of _Jupiter\nAmmon_, and the Oracle of _Serapis_, which was a great conveniency to\nthe Priests, who might hold a Correspondence with each other without\nbeing scorch\u2019d by the heat of the Sun, or incommoded by the Sands; so\nthat all those vast sandy Plains of _Egypt_ were hollow underneath, and\ndivided into numberless Apartments and Places for dead Corps. This seems\nsurprizing and almost incredible, but they that will consider the other\nprodigious Works of the _Egyptians_, and make some Reflections on what\nthe antient Historians have wrote of the great and most antient City of\n_Memphis_, and the almost infinite number of that People, will not find\nthis so impossible; besides what the _Arabian_ Authors say, that there\nwas formerly a Subterranean Communication between this City of _Memphis_\nand that of _Heliopolis_, being several Miles assunder, and which pass\u2019d\nalso under the Bed of the River _Nile_. The greatest part of the\nInhabitants of the Borough of _Sacara_, [Sidenote: How those of _Sacara_\nget their _Livelyhoods_.] which is nearest those _Caves_ of the\n_Mummies_ or _Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies, and three good Hours Journey from the\n_Pyramids_, get their Livelyhoods by digging into those _Caves_, and\ntaking out the _Mummies_, because their Tillage is not able to maintain\nthem by reason of the sterrility of the Soil, wherefore whoever has\noccasion for their Service, may easily hire them for Money, to conduct\nthem into _Caves_ that are already open, to see them, or to dig for new\nones in the Sand, which have not hitherto been remov\u2019d, for some of\nthese _Caves_ have not yet been discover\u2019d, being hid in such manner\nunder the Sand, that there is no Stranger, nor hardly any Inhabitant of\nthe Country, that can be certain before-hand where any _Mummy_ may be\nfound: Besides, the _Europeans_ have from Time to Time caus\u2019d so many to\nbe open\u2019d, that they are become exceeding scarce.\n[Sidenote: The _Entrance_ into these _Caves_.]\nThey enter these _Caves_ by an opening at top even with the Ground, into\nwhich they are let down, as into a Well, by means of a Rope and the\nassistance of a Servant with a Light in their Hands, tho\u2019 in some few\nthey can climb up and down, by setting their Feet in certain gaps in the\nWall, as appears by the Plate at _p._ 203. Letter E. This Well or\nDescent into these _Caves_ is about 16 or 18 Foot deep, and at bottom,\nthe Passage of it is so low, they are forc\u2019d to stoop and creep thro\u2019,\nwhere they arrive in a four-square Chamber or Repository, [Sidenote: The\n_Chamber_.] 24 Foot every way, on each side of which, next the Wall,\nstand Bases or Tables cut out of the Rock, about five Foot long, two and\na half broad, and one high, whereon are plac\u2019d the dead Bodies,\n_Embalm\u2019d_ and adorn\u2019d after the manner before describ\u2019d, and put into\nCoffins of Wood or Stone, carv\u2019d after their own similitude. Many times,\nbesides the number of Coffins just mention\u2019d, there lye round about upon\nthe Floor several other little ones, which seem to be the Coffins of\nChildren. Sometimes there are abundance of these _Caves_ near each\nother, as you may imagine by the Plate before-mention\u2019d; but that you\nmay have a more clear _Idea_ of all that is here describ\u2019d, I have added\nanother, the Description of which is as follows: [Sidenote:\n_Description_ of the _Ichnography_ and _Scenography_ of these _Caves_.]\nA. A. A. A. shows the _Ichnography_ of a _Burying-Place_, wherein are\nnine Chambers or Apartments all of an equal bigness, mark\u2019d with the\nLetters, B. B. B. Each of these has four Bases whereon the Coffins are\nset, as appears by the Figures 1. 2. 3. 4. The Walls or Partitions are\nrepresented by the Letters C. C. C. but these are all more exactly seen\nin the _Scenography_, in which D. and E. shows two _Caves_ with their\nWalls turn\u2019d over with Arches. Adjoyning to the Walls lye four Bases in\neach _Cave_, whereon the Coffins are set, mark\u2019d by the Letters F. G. H.\nI. K. L. _&c._ At the Head of the Coffin, stands a Figure like a Boy in\nSwadling-Clouts, and at the Feet a Hawk, being their Tutelar Gods, by\nwhose Presence and Assistance they thought the Bodies would be defended\nfrom all kinds of Violence, and over these, against the Wall, were cut\nin an oval form _Hieroglyphics_, mark\u2019d M. N. O. P.\n[Illustration:\n  Tho. Platt Sculp.\n  To Robert Nelson Esq_{\ua76b}. who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work,\n    this Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble Servant Thomas Greenhill.\nThis may suffice for a general Description of these _Caves_, [Sidenote:\n_Observations_ on the _Subterranean Caves_.] yet it may not be amiss to\nadd a few Observations made by Father _Vansleb_ on this Subject: He\ntells us he went on purpose to see these _Caves_, and gives us every\nparticular Instance that happen\u2019d to him; but this we must also take\nnotice of, that _Le Bruyn_ attributes the very same Remarks to one\n_Milton_ an _English_ Man, and he that pleases to give himself the\ntrouble to read both, will find them much of a piece. They are as\nfollows: After having said that first an Agreement must be made with the\n_Arabians_ of the Borough of _Sacara_, about the number and quality of\n_Wells_ one would have open\u2019d, as also what was to be given them for\ntheir Trouble, and that for better security 12 _Arabian_ Horsemen ought\nto be brought along with one; he adds, That the first _Well_ he went to\nsee was that of _Embalm\u2019d_ Birds, [Sidenote: _Wells_ of _Embalm\u2019d\nBirds_.] and that having caus\u2019d the Sand that cover\u2019d the Mouth of the\n_Well_ to be remov\u2019d, thro\u2019 which he was to go down, and from thence to\nenter into the _Cave_, he caus\u2019d himself and his Companions to be let\ndown one after another, by tying a double Rope about their Middles. So\nsoon as they were at the bottom, and that every one had lighted his\nFlambeau, and several Matches they had brought along with them, they\ncrept on their Bellies into a _Cave_, which was an Entry cut thro\u2019 the\nRock about a Man\u2019s height, a Fathom wide, and extraordinary long. On\neach side they found other Entries, cut also into the Rock, where were\nseveral Chambers full of a great number of Earthen-Pots, with Covers of\nthe same. In these were contain\u2019d _Embalm\u2019d_ Birds of all kinds, every\nBird having a Pot to it self. They found there also several Hen-Eggs\nwhole, but which were empty, and consequently had no ill Smell.\nHaving sufficiently view\u2019d this _Cave_, they were drawn up again in like\nmanner as they were let down. Then having commanded their _Arabians_ to\nopen a _Virgin-Well_ [Sidenote: A _Virgin-Well_.] (for so such are\ncall\u2019d as have never been open\u2019d) they were immediately let down into\nit, in the same manner as before describ\u2019d; but being come to the\nbottom, they found such a horrid Stench, and so close an Air, that they\nwere not only not able to breath, but it also put out their Flambeaus,\nas likewise their Matches every time they endeavour\u2019d to light them, so\nthat they were thereupon forc\u2019d to cause themselves to be drawn up again\nwith all speed, without having been able to advance one step. Our Author\nsays, that all he could say of this _Well_ was, That it was much deeper\nthan the former.\n[Sidenote: A _Cave_ with two _Mummies_.]\nAfter this he caus\u2019d another _Cave_ to be open\u2019d, which was not a\n_Virgin-Well_ as the former. Being let down into it he found there two\n_Mummies_, one greater and the other lesser of a Child, both in Coffins:\nThe biggest was of Marble, cut after the likeness of him for whom it was\nmade. He caus\u2019d them to be open\u2019d but found nothing extraordinary in\nthem, therefore took no Account of them, but left them where he found\nthem.\n[Sidenote: A _Cave_ call\u2019d the _Church_.]\nHe went down next into a _Cave_ call\u2019d the _Church_, which, he says, was\nthe shallowest of all he had seen, it being nothing but a long Entry\nunder Ground, well Plaister\u2019d and Painted every-where with\n_Hierogliphics_. He tells us there was so great a quantity of Sand in\nthis _Cave_, that he and his Company were forc\u2019d to creep along on their\nKnees; for as soon as any one has seen these _Wells_, the _Arabians_ are\nwont to fill them up again with Sand, if the Wind does not do it for\nthem, that they may get more Money by them another Time; for this is the\ngreatest Livelihood these miserable Creatures have, and the least they\ntake for opening a _Virgin-Well_ is 30 [6]_Piasters_. The reason of this\nhigh Price is, that those which cause them to be open\u2019d, have the\nliberty to carry away all the Curiosities and _Mummies_ they find there.\nFootnote 6:\n  Each _Piaster_ is 5 _s._ Sterling or thereabouts, so the whole may\n  make near 9 _l._\nNow to give a perfect _Idea_ of this Plain of _Mummies_, the antient\nBurying-Place of the _Egyptians_, you must represent to your self a vast\nand boundless Champion Country, cover\u2019d all over with Sand, where there\nare neither Trees, Plants, Grass, Houses, nor any thing like them to be\nseen, but the whole Surface is strew\u2019d with dry Bones of Arms, Legs,\nFeet, Heads, old Linnen Rags, broken Tombs or Coffins, and a great many\nlittle Idols, some of Wood, and others of Earth glaz\u2019d with a green\ncolour, and mark\u2019d before and behind with _Hieroglyphics_: In some\nplaces you may see great Tomb-Stones, engrav\u2019d with Cyphers and\n\u00c6nigmatical Figures, that represent something of Chymistry and other\nSciences and Mysteries of the antient _Egyptians_, as also some strange\nCharacters that are no _Hieroglyphics_. These are the remains of their\nPride and Vanity, as likewise sad Proofs that all Men are subject to\nDeath: This causes Horrour to those that come first into the Plain, and\nif one considers attentively the number of Bones wherewith it is\nstrew\u2019d, one would be apt to think that Place had formerly been a Field\nof Battel. So much for the _Pyramids_ and _Subterranean Caves_, now\nthere only remains to speak of the _Sepulchral Lamps_, which some assert\nto have burnt perpetually, and have therefore been the Subject of much\nDiscourse among the _Virtuosi_ of all Ages.\n[Sidenote: _Authors_ who have written of _Sepulchral Lamps_.]\n_Clemens Alexandrinus_, _Appian_, _Burattinus_, _Hermolaus Barbarus_,\n_Cost\u00e6us_, _Citesius_, _C\u00e6lius_, _Casalius_, _Cedrenus_, _Delrius_,\n_Ericius_, _Foxius_, _Gesnerus_, _Jacobonus_, _Leander_, _Libavius_,\n_Lazius_, _Langius_, _Licetus_, _Maiolus_, _Maturantius_, _Baptista\nPorta_, _Pancirollus_, _Ruscellius_, _Scardeonius_, _Tassonius_,\n_Ludovicus Vives_, _Volateranus_ and many other learned and ingenious\nAuthors, who have written of these _Sepulchral Lamps_, do most of them\nbelieve and strenuously assert, that they burn\u2019d for several Hundreds of\nYears, and would have so continu\u2019d, perhaps for ever, had they not been\nbroken by the unadvis\u2019d Irruptions of Rustics and Husbandmen, by diging\nup the Ground, or otherwise extinguish\u2019d by the like Accidents. \u2019Tis\ntrue, there are not many that affirm that they themselves saw any of\nthese _Lamps_ burning, but then they give you abundance of Instances of\nsuch as did, and where they were found, which being too many to be\ninserted here, we shall only mention a few, after having inquir\u2019d to\nwhat End and Purpose they were invented and made use of; of what Matter\nand Fashion they were compos\u2019d, and whether it were possible for any of\nthem, when once lighted, to burn perpetually without any addition or\nsupply of fresh Aliment.\n[Sidenote: _Perpetual Lamps_ to what end invented.]\nFirst then we are to understand, that as the _Egyptians_ (thro\u2019 a firm\nbelief they had of the _Metempsychosis_) affected to procure a Perennity\nto the Body by _Balsamation_ or _Embalming_, and the security thereof by\n_Pyramids_, _Subterranean Vaults_, &c. so they endeavour\u2019d to animate\nthe Defunct by perpetual Fire, which answer\u2019d the Nature of their Souls:\n[Sidenote: _Fire_ an _Emblem_ of the _Soul_.] For with them Fire was the\n_Symbol_ of an Incorruptible, Immortal and Divine Nature, and hence some\nwill have it, they erected _Pyramids_ ([7]the _Symbols_ of Fire) of that\nSolidity as easily to overcome the Injuries of Time, and by their Figure\nto demonstrate the Immortality of the Soul. And whereas flaming Fire was\nmore corruscating and enlightning than any other Matter, they invented\n_Lamps_ to hang in the Sepulchres of the Rich, which would burn\nperpetually without any assistance or addition. This as it was a\n_Symbol_ of the Immortality of the Soul, so did it likewise serve for a\n_Symbol_ of their grateful Intentions towards the _Manes_ and Guardian\nGods, who protected the Bodies in their Sepulchres, thereby both\nvenerating, honouring and respecting the Souls of the Deceas\u2019d, and also\nrendring what was very grateful and acceptable to them. [Sidenote: And\nof _Eternal Life_.] Now whereas the _Egyptians_ signify\u2019d Life by a\n_Lamp_, and also believ\u2019d that their Immortal Souls tarry\u2019d in the Grave\nwith their Bodies, so after having _Embalm\u2019d_ those Bodies to prevent\nthe Souls forsaking them, by reason of their Corruption and Dissolution,\nthey deposited them in _Subterranean Caves_, where they had provided\n_Lamps_ that would burn perpetually, to the end that their Souls might\nnot lye miserably imprison\u2019d in darkness, and thereby any hurt befal\nthem; but on the contrary, enjoy eternal light and be free from all\nevil, or that when the Soul should wander, it might not mistake its\nResidence, but be by the light of the _Lamp_ guided and conducted to\nreturn to its former Habitation.\nFootnote 7:\n  _Pyramis_, \u1f00\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2, _quod ad ignis speciem extenuatur in Conum_.\nThese are the absur\u2019d Opinions of the Superstitious _Egyptians_, and the\nReasons why they plac\u2019d burning _Lamps_ with the Dead in their\n_Subterranean Vaults_, as _Jacobonus_, _Foxius_, _Scaliger_ and others\nrelate; therefore the next Thing which we shall consider, is, whether\nthere ever was or can be such a Thing made as a perpetual burning\n_Lamp_. Most of the before-mention\u2019d Authors believe there were such\n_Lamps_: _Licetus_ particularly has writ a whole _Folio_ to prove it,\nand _Kircher_ produces a Story out of _Schiangia_, an _Arabian_ Author,\nwhich he thinks will solve it; but however, whether there have been any\nperpetual burning _Lamps_ or not, since no Author of good Credit ever\nsaw one, it is nevertheless very certain that _Lamps_ are frequently\nfound in the Sepulchres and _Subterranean Caves_ of the Dead, which, to\nwhat end and purpose they were there plac\u2019d, will still remain a great\n_Quere_, unless it were for the above-alledg\u2019d Reasons, since _Licetus_\nand other Authors say, These were the proper Places for them, asserting\nthey might be extinguish\u2019d by the admission of Air in the breaking up of\nsuch Places. _Greaves_ at the end of his Description of the first\n_Pyramid_, p. 99. takes notice of two Inlets or Spaces in the _South_\nand _North_ side of the Chamber, just opposite to one another, very\nevenly cut and running in a straight Line about six Foot into the\nthickness of the Wall, [Sidenote: _Lamps_ suppos\u2019d to have been in the\nfirst _Pyramid_.] which, he says, by the blackness within, seem to have\nbeen a Receptacle for the burning of _Lamps_. _T. Livius Burattinus_\nwould gladly have believ\u2019d it had been an Hearth for one of these\nperpetual _Lamps_ which we now are speaking of; but _Greaves_ imagines\nthe Invention not to be so antient as this _Pyramid_: However,\n_Burattinus_ in his _Italian_, and _Michael Schatta_ in his _Arabic_\nLetter to _Kircher_, which you may read in _Oedipi \u00c6gyptiaci Theatrum\nHierogliphicum_, p. 544. affirm that they found many _Lamps_ in the\n_Subterranean Caves_ of old _Memphis_, [Sidenote: _Lamps_ in the\n_Subterranean Caves_ of _Memphis_.] some having three, four, eight or 12\nLights, and made in the shape of Dog, Man, Bull, Hawk, Serpent and the\nlike. Also _Casalius_ tells us he had some _Lamps_ of Brass which\nrepresented a Dog, Ox, Sphinx, _&c._ and some made of Earth. Seeing\ntherefore they are so different in their matter, shape and number of\nLights, I have given you the Sculptures of 15 of them, with their\nDescription more at large.\n[Illustration:\n  Sturt sculp.\n  _To M^r George Rolfe Surgeon:\n  Who has been pleas\u2019d to encourage this Work\n  This Plate is humbly dedicated by\n  His most humble Servant_ Tho. Greenhill.\n[Sidenote: A _Description_ of some _Lamps_]\nThe first Figure represents _Serapis_ sitting in a Chair, having a\nBasket made of Rushes on his Head; he rests his right Hand on a Staff or\nScepter, and lays his left on a tripple-headed Monster, such a one as is\njoyn\u2019d to the Statue of _Serapis_ at _Alexandria_: [Sidenote: and first\nof _Serapis_.] This _Lamp_ was found between the Walls, near one of the\nGates of _Rome_ call\u2019d _Capena_, and is in the Custody of _Pietro Santo\nBartoli_, as _Bellori_ informs us, from whom we have taken the three\nfirst and the sixth Figures. [Sidenote: _Lamp_ of a tripple-headed\n_Monster_.] The second Figure shews the tripple-headed monstrous\nRepresentation of _Serapis_ at _Alexandria_: It is an Image of Brass\nwith the Heads of three several kinds of Animals, _viz._ In the middle\nthe Head of a Lion, on the right Hand that of a fawning Dog, and on the\nleft that of a rapacious Wolf, which signifie the three Times, the\npresent, past and to come. The Body is environ\u2019d with two Serpents in\nfour Wreaths or Circumvolutions from the Legs to the Neck, perhaps to\ndenote the four Seasons, turn\u2019d about by the Sun; for by the Figure of\n_Serapis_ the _Egyptians_ denoted the Sun: See a fuller Description of\nit in _Macrobii Saturnalibus_. This is kept at present in the Royal\nCollection of the King of _Prussia_, together with the whole _Mus\u00e6um_ of\n_Bellori_, which that Prince purchas\u2019d. [Sidenote: Another _Lamp_ of\n_Serapis_.] The third Figure is the Head of _Serapis_, with a Basket and\nCrown upon it like the Rays of the Sun: These express the Nature of that\nGod, whom the _Egyptians_ believ\u2019d to be the same with the Sun, _viz._\nThe Beginning and Ending of all such Things as proceed from and return\nback to it. The Basket on the top of the Head shows, says _Macrobius_,\nthe height of this Planet and the virtue of its Influence, in that all\nearthly Things return to it, whilst they are drawn up by the Heat it\nimmits; for which Reason this God is thought to be the same with\n_Pluto_, and was not rarely added to the _Sepulchral Lamps_, as these\ntwo testifie; the latter of which, being of excellent Workmanship, is in\nthe Custody of _Raphael Fabrettus_. Before we proceed to give any\nfarther Description of these _Lamps_, it may be necessary to remark,\nthat some were also kept in the _Egyptian_ Temples and other Places, as\nwell as in the _Caves_ of the Dead; but then, says _Kircher_, they were\nmade in the similitude of that God who was worshipp\u2019d in that Temple.\nThus in the Temple of _Anubis_, the _Lamp_ was in the likeness of a\nDog\u2019s Head, or else in the shape of his whole Body; in the Temple of\n_Osiris_ it was in the form of a Hawk\u2019s Head, or of the whole Bird; in\nthe Temple of _Isis_, of a Half Moon, and so of the rest. The _Lamps_\nwere wrought in the same fashion with those _Numina_ represented in each\nparticular Temple or Place, as all those testifie which have been\nbrought from _Egypt_, and are at this Day kept in the Cabinets of the\nCurious. Moreover you must observe that the _Egyptians_ set up _Lamps_\nnot only to those Gods that were beneficial to them, but likewise to\nsuch as were mischievous, to the end they might more readily have\nrecourse to the one and avoid the other. Of this last kind _Johannes\nNardius_ sent one out of his _Mus\u00e6um_ to _Kircher_, in the form and\nshape as is express\u2019d by Figure the fourth, _viz._ [Sidenote: A _Lamp_\nof _Typhon_.] Under the _Symbol_ of an Ass, _Typhon_ was represented,\nbecause, as _Plutarch_ observes, his Voice was like the braying of that\nAnimal, and which he likewise resembl\u2019d in colour, ignorance and\nstupidity. This _Typhon_ was thought to bring Sterility, Droughts,\nContagion, and the like kind of Evils upon the _Egyptians_, therefore to\nprevent his obstructing the fruitful overflowing of the _Nile_, they\nform\u2019d his _Lamps_ in the manner you see, that knowing himself by his\nImage, he might cease from perpetrating of Evil: _Silenus_ likewise, who\nis the _Symbol_ of the _Nile_\u2019s Fertility, and constant Attendant on\n_Bacchus_ or _Osiris_, rides astride on his Head, and thereby restrains\nhis power of doing Mischief: This _Lamp_ moreover stands on the Foot of\nan Eagle or Hawk, thereby, says _Kircher_, to represent how _Typhon_\u2019s\ndestructive and flagrating Power lying hid in the Sun, was made more\ntemperate by a Humour which _Silenus_, the Page of the aforesaid\n_Bacchus_, had the Command of; for, as _Plutarch_ well observes, _Isis_\nwould never have _Typhon_ quite destroy\u2019d, but only conquer\u2019d, because\ntho\u2019 his adust and fiery Nature, by reason of its too great Siccity, was\npernicious, nevertheless being temper\u2019d with much moisture, it was\nsometimes useful. The fifth Figure represents a _Lamp_, whose bigger\n_Foramen_ on the middle of its Superficies, where they pour\u2019d in the\nOil, is cover\u2019d with a large _Heliotrope_ inverted, [Sidenote: A _Lamp_\nof a _Heliotrope_.] a Flower so call\u2019d by the _Greeks_ from its ever\ninclining towards the Course of the Sun; for in the Morning it turns to\nthe _East_, at Noon is erect, towards the Evening faces the _West_, and\nat Night inclines to the Earth, enquiring, as it were, for the Sun\nbury\u2019d under Ground, and waiting for its Resurrection the next Morning.\nThis may serve to teach us what Affinity, Temper and Agreement Things of\nan inferior Nature have with those that are Celestial; and if\n_Aristotle_ confesses that the Winds, Waters and other inanimate Things\nfollow the heavenly Circuit, why should we question the _Heliotrope_\u2019s\nsubsequency to the Course of the Sun, or the _Seliotrope_\u2019s to that of\nthe Moon? Surely he who form\u2019d this Flower turn\u2019d downwards on a\n_Sepulchral Lamp_, seems thereby to intimate the Night of Death which\nBodies suffer under Ground, and withal to show, according to the Opinion\nof the Ancients, that the Souls of the Deceas\u2019d tarry together with\ntheir Bodies in the Grave. This _Lamp_, as likewise those at Figure the\n7th, 10th, 12th, 13th and 15th were first publish\u2019d by _Casalius_, and\nexplain\u2019d by _Licetus_. The next _Lamp_, mark\u2019d with Figure six,\n[Sidenote: _Lamp_ of the _Alexandrian Pharos_.] seems to represent the\n_Pharos_ of _Alexandria_, into whose Haven a Ship is just entring, the\nSeamen being furling up their Sails, and for want of a better Reason, is\nsuppos\u2019d to have been plac\u2019d in the Sepulchre of a certain Merchant of\nthat City; but is now in the _Mus\u00e6um_ of _Pietro Santo Bartoli_, as\n_Bellori_ informs us. As concerning the following _Lamp_, with a big\nBelly and Handle, and standing upon three Feet, as you may see at Figure\nthe seventh, _Licetus_ believes _Casalius_ is under a mistake in\nreckoning it for a _Lamp_, and that it was rather a certain Vessel in\nform of a Cucumber, in which the Ancients were wont to heat Water; but I\ncannot be of his Opinion, since by its shape it looks very much unlike a\nCucumber, and from the smallness of its Mouth at top, and the appearance\nof a Place for the Wiek, it seems most probably to have been a _Lamp_.\n[Sidenote: The _Lamp_ of an _Ox_ with a _Boy_ on his Back.] The eighth\n_Lamp_, made in the shape of an Ox couching on the Ground, with a Boy\nsitting on his Back, and holding a Fig-Leaf in his Hand, was sent by the\nGreat Duke of _Tuscany_ out of his _Mus\u00e6um_, to _Kircher_: The Ox being\nthe Figure of _Apis_, and _Apis_ signifying the chief _Numen_ or Patron\nof Agriculture, wherefore this _Lamp_ was plac\u2019d in the Temple of _Apis_\nin Honour of that God, denoting by the Vessel, the pious and religious\nAffection the antient _Egyptians_ had for that Deity; and by the Fire\nthe vital Heat, thinking that if he were absent from their Husbandry,\nall would run to the last Destruction. Under that _Symbol_ therefore\nthey tacitely sollicited this _Numen_ to grant warmth and vital Heat to\nthe Fields and Meadows, hoping, by the religious Ceremony of Fire, that\nhe would be more vigilant and take greater care of Things committed to\nhis Trust. By the Boy and Fig-Leaf they denoted the vital Heat and\nvegetable Life communicated to this Deity, whereby all Things are\nfructify\u2019d, and seem as it were to grow young again. The ninth Figure or\n_Lamp_ represents a very fair and entire _Sphinx_ with a Womans Face,\n[Sidenote: _Lamp_ of a _Sphinx_.] having her Head bound about with a\nFillet or Hair-Lace, the hinder part cover\u2019d with a Coif, and two Horns\nrising out of her Forehead; the Body and Legs were like a Lion\u2019s, and on\nthe top of the Back was a great _Foramen_, thro\u2019 which they pour\u2019d the\nOil: The Breast was very protuberant and somewhat like a Scollop-Shell,\nat the top of which is seen a lesser _Foramen_ for the Wick. This\n_Kircher_ positively believes to have been a _Sepulchral Lamp_,\nforasmuch as the antient _Egyptians_ were wont to place _Sphinx_\u2019s about\ntheir _Sepulchres_, and _Pliny_ moreover witnesses, that an entire\n_Pyramid_ was built in _Egypt_ of that shape, whom you may consult more\nat large, _Lib._ 36. _cap._ 12. The tenth _Lamp_ has two Wieks,\n[Sidenote: _Lamp_ of the _Moon_.] and may either be hung up or set upon\nits Foot: From the form of a Crescent at the other extremity or handle,\nit is thought to have been dedicated to the Moon, or else to have burn\u2019d\nin the Sepulchre of some Person of Rank, as a _Symbol_ of his Nobility,\nof which this was an _Hieroglyphic_, and therefore they antiently wore\none in their Shoes, _&c._ to distinguish them from inferior Persons, and\nperhaps might also Sup by a _Lamp_ made in that form in token of their\nQuality and Grandure. As this had two, so the following _Lamp_ at Figure\neleven had four Wieks or Lights, [Sidenote: _Lamp_ with four _Lights_.]\nbeing, as _Nardius_ tells us, brought out of _Egypt_, with some\n_Mummies_, to the Grand Duke of _Tuscany_, by which, says _Kircher_,\nnothing seems more to be meant than the Worship of those Deities which\nwent before the four Seasons of the Year; for seeing the Prosperity of\nthe whole Republic depended on the Plenty of those Things, to which the\nabovesaid Deities were distributed, in the Circle of the four Seasons of\nthe Year, they aptly apply\u2019d the _Lamp_ with four Lights to complete\nthese mysterious Ceremonies; for the _Egyptians_ erected their _Lamps_\nwith so many Lights as the number of that Deity, consecrated to any one,\ncontain\u2019d of Unities. [Sidenote: _Lamp_ with an _Ox\u2019s_ Head.] The _Lamp_\nat Figure the twelfth, with the Head of an Ox, which as _Valerianus_,\nLib. 3. _Hierogl._ plainly demonstrates to be the _Symbol_ of the Earth,\nwas Sepulchral and depicted Hieroglyphically, to show that the Body of\nMan was resolv\u2019d into Earth from whence it was first form\u2019d. [Sidenote:\n_Lamp_ of a wing\u2019d _Sphinx_.] Figure the thirteenth is a _Lamp_ on whose\nSuperficies a wing\u2019d _Sphinx_ grav\u2019d or wrought, which as it was among\nthe _Egyptians_ the _Symbol_ of secret Wisdom, so it denotes that this\n_Lamp_ was plac\u2019d in the Sepulchre of some Learned Man, whose Sayings\nwere wont to be \u00c6nigmatical, and were represented by the Image of a\n_Sphinx_; or perhaps more particularly to denote the _Depositum_ of some\nNoble Poet; for it is the property of a Poet, under the cover of a\nFable, to contain the mysterious Secrets of Divine Matters, and to\nenlighten the hidden Senses of honest Actions, that they may be\nimitated. [Sidenote: _Lamp_ with two beaked _Ships_.] The next _Lamp_ at\nFigure the fourtenth was purchas\u2019d of the _Arabians_, by that excellent\nPhysician _John Baptista Bonagente Vicentinus_, who saw them take it out\nof one of the Caves of the Mummies near the _Pyramids_, and after his\nDeath _Fr. Sanctus a Plebe Sacci_ bought it out of his Collection at\n_Cairo_, and brought it to _Padua_, where he presented it to the most\nillustrious _Sertorio Ursatto_, who afterwards show\u2019d it to _Licetus_,\nand he gave the following Figure and Description of it, _viz._ That it\nhad twelve Lights or Wieks, and on it was represented two beaked Ships\nwith many Oars, as it were mutually going into a hostile Engagement,\nwhich denotes, says _Licetus_, that this _Lamp_ was plac\u2019d in the\nSepulchre either of a certain famous Pirate, Commander of 12 Gallies,\nwith three Oars on a side, and who infested the _Egyptian_ Seas, or, on\nthe contrary, of some Captain who defended their Coasts from their\nEnemies; to which he adds, that this _Lamp_ being but small, and having\n12 large Wieks, it must undeniably have consumed away in a very short\nTime, unless it were fill\u2019d with incombustible Oil. [Sidenote: _Lamp_\nwith a _Dog_\u2019s Head.] By the fifteenth and last Figure of a _Lamp_, on\nthe extremity of whose handle is a Dog\u2019s Head, _Pierius_ and _Ambrosius_\nthink is signify\u2019d, that Men are faithfully to keep their Words and\nTrust in all Things committed to their Charge; and that a Dog\u2019s Head had\na chief Place in Sepulchral _Lamps_, inasmuch as it was the Hieroglyphic\nof a Sexton or _Libitinarius_; for as a Dog by firm and stedfast looking\non, watches and defends the Images both of Gods and Men, so the\n_Libitinarii_ were to keep and look to the _Embalm\u2019d_ Bodies, and all\nThings appertaining thereunto or Funeral Ceremonies.\nThus _Licetus_, _Bellori_ and _Kircher_ have given you their Opinions of\nthe Hieroglyphical Signatures and Significations of some _Egyptian\nLamps_, which we have just now mention\u2019d, to which we will add two more\nvery well worth the taking notice of, the one a particular Ceremony of\nburning sweet-smelling _Lamps_ and _Incense_ to the deceas\u2019d Daughter of\nKing _Mycerinus_, and the other a general lighting of _Lamps_ throughout\nall _Egypt_, call\u2019d _The Feast of Lamps_.\n[Sidenote: _Lamp_ of _Mycerinus_.]\nThe first was instituted by _Mycerinus_, one of the Kings of _Egypt_,\nwho, being depriv\u2019d of Heirs, by the Death of his Daughter and only\nChild, endeavour\u2019d to immortalize her Memory by the most sumptuous\nStructure he could devise: For this end instead of a Subterranean Cave\nor Sepulchre, he erected a very fine Palace, with a Hall in the midst of\nit, beautifully adorn\u2019d with abundance of Statues and Figures. In this\nHall he deposited her Corps in a Coffin made after the similitude of an\nOx in a kneeling posture, and cover\u2019d over with Plates of Gold and a\nPurple-Mantle: The Ox had between its Horns a Sun of massy Gold, and\nbefore it there burn\u2019d a _Lamp_, whose Flames were fed with most\nodoriferous Oils. Round about the Hall stood Perfuming-Pans and Censers,\nwhich continually threw up Clouds of sweet-smelling Odours; but this\nbeing more fully describ\u2019d before, _p._ 200. we will refer you thither\nfor a more particular Account, where it is also lively represented by a\nPlate or Figure.\n[Sidenote: _Feast_ of _Lamps_.]\nThe second, _viz._ The _Feast of Lamps_, is describ\u2019d by several\nAuthors, tho\u2019 they differ in their Opinions concerning its Origin; some\nwill have it that the _Egyptians_ celebrated this Feast on certain Days\nof the Year, that _Osiris_, or the Sun, might not be wanting to preserve\nthem by his Plenty and Benevolence, therefore they made a Sacrifice of\n_Lamps_, or a general Illumination to him throughout all _Egypt_, by\nreason they thought Fire the best _Symbol_ or representation of the Sun,\nwhom they worshipp\u2019d and call\u2019d _Osiris_, but whom the _Greeks_ term\u2019d\n_Pluto_ or _Vulcan_, which last some think the first Inventor or God of\nFire. Moreover, _Macrobius_ says, _Osiris_ was nothing else but the Sun,\nand _Isis_ the Earth and Nature, made fruitful by him, and Mother of all\nProductions, which are form\u2019d in her Bosom. Others say _Osiris_ and\n_Isis_ were King and Queen of _Egypt_, who reign\u2019d with extraordinary\nmildness, conferring many great Benefits on their Subjects; also that\nthey hindred Men from eating one another as they were formerly wont to\ndo, and taught them Agriculture and the Use of Corn and Wine; moreover\nthat they made excellent Laws, wherefore _Plutarch_ says, from their\nbeing such good _Genii_, they became Gods, as a just Reward to their\nVirtue, and that _Osiris_ was _Pluto_ and _Isis_ _Proserpina_.\n_Herodotus_ in his _Euterpe_ speaks thus of the _Feast of Lamps_, having\ntold us in another place, as _Casalius_ observes, that the _Egyptians_\nwere more religious than all others in the care of their _Lamps_. \u2018But\nwhen they had assembl\u2019d together at _Sais_, the City of Sacrifice, they\ntook their _Lamps_, prepar\u2019d with good Wieks, fill\u2019d with Oil, and\nseason\u2019d with Salt, and in the Evening lighted them in the open Air\nbefore their Houses, burning them all the Night, whence this lighting of\n_Lamps_ came to be call\u2019d a _Feast of Lamps_. Now tho\u2019 all the\n_Egyptians_ might not come to this Convention, yet did they all observe\nthe Night of Sacrifice, and all lighted their _Lamps_, so that they were\nnot only lighted in _Sais_, but also throughout all _Egypt_; but for\nwhat cause this Night obtain\u2019d so much Glory and Honour, a certain holy\nReason is given;\u2019 yet which _Herodotus_ does not declare.\n[Sidenote: To what end the _Feast of Lamps_ was instituted.]\nSome think the _Egyptians_ were wont to light up these _Lamps_ in the\nNight, to find _Osiris_ out with _Isis_, he being kill\u2019d, as they say,\nby his Brother _Typhon_. Moreover, _Lactantius_ tells us, the Priests\nbeat their Breasts, and lamented with great Howlings, just as _Isis_ did\nwhen she had lost _Osiris_, but rejoyc\u2019d again when they had found him,\nso that from this often loosing and finding him, _Lucan_ thus expresses\nhimself on that Subject:\n                   _Nunquamq; satis qu\u00e6situs Osiris._\nAlso by observing this Worship or Celebration of the _Feast of Lamps_,\nthey promis\u2019d themselves great Plenty of all Things; for as _Pausanias_\nrelates, the _Nile_\u2019s beginning to encrease in those Days that they\ncelebrated this Feast to _Isis_, in bewailing _Osiris_, induc\u2019d them to\nbelieve, that the increase of that River, and Inundation of the Fields,\nwas occasion\u2019d only by the Tears which _Isis_ shed for the Death of\n_Osiris_, and some will have _Osiris_ to be the _Nile_, and _Isis_\n_Egypt_.\n[Sidenote: The true and sacred _Reason_.]\nBut the true and Sacred Reason why the _Egyptians_ celebrated this Feast\nof _Lamps_ with Tears and Lamentations, _Casalius_ thinks to have been\nin Memory of that doleful Night, in which GOD slew all the First-Born of\n_Egypt_, as well Men as Beasts (among whom was _Osiris_) to the end that\nhe might bring the Children of _Israel_ out of that Country; for then\nKing _Pharaoh_ and all the _Egyptians_ rose out of their Beds in the\nmidst of the Night, and lighting their _Lamps_, lamented their slain\nSons, thereby suffering the Sons of _Israel_ to go free out of the Land,\nas appears by _Exodus_ the 12th Chapter and the 12th, 29th, 30th, 31st,\n32d and 33d Verses, where it is thus written: _I the Lord will pass\nthro\u2019 the Land of_ Egypt _this Night, and will smite all the First-Born,\nboth Man and Beast; and against all the Gods of_ Egypt _will I execute\nJudgment. And it came to pass that at Midnight the Lord smote all the\nFirst-Born of_ Pharaoh, _that sat on his Throne, unto the First-Born of\nthe Captive that was in the Dungeon, and all the First-Born of Cattle.\nAnd_ Pharaoh _rose up in the Night, he and all his Servants, and all\nthe_ Egyptians, _and there was a great Cry in all_ Egypt; _for there was\nnot a House where there was not one dead. And he call\u2019d for_ Moses _and_\nAaron _by Night, and said, Rise up, and get you forth from amongst my\nPeople, both you and the Children of_ Israel, _and go, serve the Lord,\nas ye have said. Also take your Flocks and your Herds, as ye have said;\nand be gone, and bless me also. And the_ Egyptians _were urgent upon the\nPeople, that they might send them out of the Land in haste; for they\nsaid, we be all dead Men_. So that this true History of the Nightly\nBewailings of the _Egyptians_, every one over his First-Born that was\ndead, and of their Joy by reason of their being freed from the fear of\nthe Death of their other Children, at GOD\u2019s People going out of their\nLand, was the true occasion why the _Egyptians_ did afterwards celebrate\nit with the _Feast of Lamps_, describ\u2019d by _Herodotus_, and which the\n_Egyptian_ Priests, who conceal\u2019d all their Mysteries under\n_Hieroglyphics_ like to Fables, did to shew the wonderful and miserable\nBewailings of _Isis_ for slain _Osiris_, who some think was the\nFirst-Born of _Pharaoh_. On the contrary, so soon as this Night was\nover, the _Egyptians_ worshipp\u2019d the Rising Sun, with rejoycings and\nleaping about, and a great number of both Sexes, says _Apuleius_,\nappeas\u2019d the Celestial Bodies with _Lamps_, _Torches_ and other kind of\nLights; but the Chief Priest carry\u2019d a very famous burning _Lamp_, not\nlike those commonly us\u2019d at Evening-Banquets, but like to a Golden Boat,\nout of the middle of which issu\u2019d forth a very large and bright Flame.\nBut neither of these _Lamps_ describ\u2019d by _Herodotus_, to wit, that of\n_Mycerinus_, or those us\u2019d at the _Feast of Lamps_, are said to have\nburn\u2019d perpetually, without ever going out, or any addition of new\nMatter being made to them: Nevertheless, some affirm, there have been\nsuch _Lamps_ as endur\u2019d for many Ages, and probably might have been\nperpetual, had they not been accidentally broken or extinguish\u2019d:\n[Sidenote: _Lamp_ of _Tulliola_.] Of these, the most remarkable is that\nwhich _Erasmus Franciscus_ produces out of _Pflaumerus_, _Pancirollus_\nand others, _viz._ That under the Reign of Pope _Paul_ III. in the\n_Appian_ Way to _Rome_, where many of the chief Heathens were formerly\nbury\u2019d, a Tomb was open\u2019d in which there was found the entire Body of a\nvery fair Lady, swimming in a wonderful Liquor which preserv\u2019d it from\nPutrifaction in such manner, that the Face was no ways sunk, but seem\u2019d\nexceeding beautiful and like to the Life it self: Her Hair was yellow,\nwreath\u2019d about with an artificial Ligature, and connected with a Circle\nor Gold-Ring. Under her Feet burn\u2019d a _Lamp_, whose Flame vanish\u2019d upon\nopening the Sepulchre; from some grav\u2019d Marks it appear\u2019d the Body had\nbeen there bury\u2019d above 1500 Years, but whose it was is not yet known,\ntho\u2019 many have suppos\u2019d it to have been the Body of _Tulliola_, Daughter\nof _Cicero_, from this short Inscription said to have been found grav\u2019d\non the Tomb, _viz._\nSome say this Body, so soon as it was touch\u2019d, immediately turn\u2019d to\nAshes and disappear\u2019d; but the truth of this Story is very much to be\nquestion\u2019d, [Sidenote: _Refuted._] and if we enquire strictly into each\nparticular Circumstance, it will appear altogether fabulous: For,\n_First_, if it had been kept with any Balsamic Liquor, it could not so\nsoon have turn\u2019d to Ashes, and if it had not been _Embalm\u2019d_, then for\nit to have been kept uncorrupt so many Hundreds of Years, would have\nbeen as great a Miracle as the burning of the _Lamp_. _Secondly_, The\nArgument from the Inscription, that it was the Body of _Tulliola_, is as\ndoubtful as the matter of Fact can be true, for any one never so\nindifferently vers\u2019d in the Monuments of the Antients, will believe it\nought then to have been written in this manner, and according to their\nusual Custom: _M. Tullius Cicero, Terenti\u00e6 Uxori, Tulliol\u00e6 Fili\u00e6_, &c.\nif either the Father had been bury\u2019d there, or had built it for his Wife\nand Children: Also the word _Me\u00e6_ is needless, forasmuch as she was the\nDaughter, not of another but of the Person that built the Tomb for\nhimself and Family; but who it was that either built the Tomb, or was\nFather to the Daughter, the words of the Inscription do not show,\nwhereby they appear in all respects to be, not the Truth and Elegancy of\nthose Times, but meer Novelties and Follies: Besides, it could not be\nany of _Cicero_\u2019s Family (and therefore the Assertion and Title must be\nfalse) because in his Time and long before, the _Romans_ were wont to\nburn all Bodies, and thereby reduce them to Ashes, except those of\nInfants that had not had their Teeth cut, and a few particular Families;\nbut of this number we do not read that _Cicero_ was one who was exempted\nfrom the Flames of the Funeral Pyre. Some therefore who deservedly\nsuspect the Title, will have it to be the Body of _Priscilla_, Daughter\nof _Abascantus_; but whoever it was, _Jud\u00e6us Apella_ thinks it not to\nhave been reduc\u2019d to Ashes by burning, but by the immission of the Air\nor contact of the Body, and that it had without _Embalming_, remain\u2019d\nincorrupt 1500 Years, whereas both Iron and Marble are consum\u2019d in much\nlesser Time. But _C\u00e6lius Rhodiginus_, _Antiq. Lect._ Lib. 3. cap. 24.\nrelates it quite otherwise, _viz._ That it suffer\u2019d not the Injuries of\nTime, by reason of its being condited with Aromatics, until three Days\nafter it was brought into the City, when the Medicament being remov\u2019d or\nvitiated it putrify\u2019d. _Lastly_, This Author as well as _Aresius_,\n_Alexander ab Alexandro_, and _Raphael Volateranus_, who liv\u2019d the same\nTime at _Rome_ that this Tomb is reported to have been found, do not so\nmuch as mention one word of a _Lamp_ found burning, whereas that being a\nThing so very wonderful and miraculous, it could not easily be\nconceal\u2019d, seeing that even common and frivolous Things are so easily\nlistn\u2019d to by such as are desirous of and expect Novelties: Nay\n_Alexander_ plainly enough lays down, that there was no Inscription; and\n_Licetus_ himself does not affirm, that there was any _Lamp_ found\nburning in that Sepulchre, so that as _Ferrarius_ observes, it appears\nto be a meer Invention of _Pancirollus_, who out of an innate desire of\nrelating wonderful Things, and pleas\u2019d with the sweetness of Fables,\nfirst receiv\u2019d it for a Truth, and afterwards communicated it to\nPosterity.\nYet was this not so strange and wonderful a _Lamp_ as that of _Pallas_,\n[Sidenote: _Lamp_ of _Pallas_,] which _Martinus_ the Chronologer\nrelates, and to which _Boccatius_, _Philippus Bergomas_ and\n_Volateranus_ assent, _viz._ That in the Year 1501, when _Henry_ III.\nwas Emperor, a Countryman digging deep in the Earth, near the City of\n_Rome_, discover\u2019d a Tomb of Stone, wherein lay a Body so tall, that\nbeing erected, it over-top\u2019d the Walls of that City, and was as entire\nas if it had been but newly bury\u2019d, having a very large Wound on the\nBreast, and a burning _Lamp_ at its Head, which could neither be\nextinguish\u2019d by Wind nor Water, so that they were forc\u2019d to perforate\nthe bottom of the _Lamp_, and by that means put out the Flame. This was\nsaid to be the Body of _Pallas_ slain by _Turnus_, these Verses being\ninscrib\u2019d on the Sepulchre:\n               _Filius Evandri Pallas, quem Lancea Turni\n               Militis occidit_, more suo _jacet hic_.\n                 Others read it:\u2014\u2014Mole sua _jacet hic_.\nThis _Lamp_ is said to have burn\u2019d 2511 Years, and perhaps would have\ncontinu\u2019d so to the end of the World, had it not been broke and the\nLiquor spilt. [Sidenote: _Ridicul\u2019d._] Now as this Story appears very\nfabulous, so _Ferrarius de Lucernis Sepulchralibus_, p. 17. as wittily\nridicules it, thinking it a fitter Tale for an old Grannam in a\nChimney-Corner to quiet a peevish and froward Child with, than for a Man\nof Sense to give credit to; nay, he declares, that for his part, he is\nalmost asham\u2019d to reherse it: Can any one think, says he, that _Pallas_\nwas so tall a Giant as to surmount the Walls of _Rome_, or that any one\nshould be so foolish to measure the Body by the Wall, and not by a\nFoot-Rule, Cubit or Yard? That the Orifice of the Wound should be four\nFoot wide, and proportionably big to his Body, so that a little Man\nmight jump in and out at it? Surely in this Case _Turnus_\u2019s Lance must\nhave been as big as that of _Polyphemus_ or the _Philistian Goliah_\u2019s.\nBesides, if _Pallas_ were but a Lad when he was slain, as the Poet make\nhim, and yet taller than the Turrets of the _Roman_ Walls, what would he\nhave come to if he had liv\u2019d? Would he not, think you, have encreas\u2019d in\nheight \u2019till he had equall\u2019d the Obelisk of the Sun? Besides, it must\nhave been more than an _Egyptian Embalming_ that could have preserv\u2019d a\nBody of that bulk entire for about 26 Ages: Yet, grant all this, the\nPoet says expresly, the Body of _Pallas_ was burn\u2019d and not bury\u2019d. No\nless absurd and barbarous are the Verses of the Inscription, which,\ninstead of being elegant and sublime, are mean and poor, undoubtedly\ncompos\u2019d in some Cottage or Ale-House; for what can be meant by _more\nsuo_, unless he lay in a different posture from what other Bodies are\nwont to do, or by _mole sua_, but his being of an unsizeable bulk?\nHowever both are as ridiculous and foolish as the _Latin_ is trivial.\nNevertheless _Licetus_ endeavours to defend both, alledging by _more\nsuo_ is meant, that there is no other situation of Bodies more proper\nthan lying, either when they are asleep, which is the Emblem of Death,\nor when they are sick, which is the way to it, but what need he then\nmention that which every Body knows? The other words _mole sua_, he\nsays, were to describe the bulk of his Gigantic Body, or else by reason\nthe Ancients thought the Soul tarry\u2019d with the Body in the Sepulchre, or\nwander\u2019d about it, yet could not either stand, sit or lye, as being an\nincorporeal Substance, it was said of his Body, as separated from the\nSoul, and laid up in a Sepulchre, _Mole sua jacet hic_; so that \u2019tis the\nOpinion of this great Philosopher and Critic, that _mole sua_ was added\nto the Verse, lest any one should suspect the Body and Soul of _Pallas_\ndid lye together in the same Cave. As to the _Lamp_, which exceeds all\nFaith and Belief, for it is affirm\u2019d to have burn\u2019d 2611 Years, and that\nwhereas other _Lamps_ were but small, and soon extinguish\u2019d by the\nimmission of Air, or the blast of Winds, this great and contumacious\nFlame, well befitting a Giant, defy\u2019d both the light of the Day or\ndarting of the Sun-Beams, and the rushing in of Air or blasts of Wind,\nand, as they tell you, would have continu\u2019d so for ever, if it had not\nbeen broken, whereas they might have better said, if the Liquor had not\nbeen spilt, seeing it might have been easier extinguish\u2019d, by inverting\nthe _Lamp_, and pouring out that precious Oil, which yielded Aliment to\nthe Eternal Fire; nay every one knows, who has seen these _Lamps_, that\nthey were wont to have several holes at top, wherein they pour\u2019d the\nOil: These are foolish and absurd Stories both committed to Print and\nPosterity, as if they were only to come into the Hands of Boys, or\nCucumber-headed Men, as _Ferrarius_ expresses himself. There are several\nother Relations of this kind, as the Golden _Lamp_ in the Temple of\n_Minerva_ at _Athens_, [Sidenote: _Lamp_ of _Minerva_,] which, says\n_Pausanias_, burn\u2019d a whole Year, and was the workmanship of\n_Callimachus_. [Sidenote: Of _Jupiter Ammon_,] The _Lamp_ of _Jupiter\nAmmon_, which _Plutarch_, _Lib. de Def. Oracul._ speaks of, and which is\naffirm\u2019d by the Priests to have burn\u2019d continually, yet consum\u2019d less\nOil every Year than the former, and tho\u2019 it burn\u2019d in the open Air,\nneither Wind nor Water could extinguish it. A _Lamp_ in the Fane of\n_Venus_, [Sidenote: Of _Venus_,] which St. _Austin_ speaks of, being of\nthe same Nature with the fore-going, unextinguishable either by Wind or\nWater. [Sidenote: A _Lamp_ found at _Edessa_.] A _Lamp_ at _Edessa_,\nthat _Cedrenus_ mentions, which being hid at the top of a certain Gate,\nburn\u2019d 500 Years. Another very wonderfull _Lamp_ was that of _Olybius\nMaximus_ of _Padua_, [Sidenote: _Lamp_ of _Olybius_.] found near\n_Atteste_, which _Scardeonius_, Lib. 1. Class. 3. cap. _ult._ thus\ndescribes: In a large Earthen-Urn was contain\u2019d a lesser, and in that a\nburning _Lamp_, which had continu\u2019d so 1500 Years, by means of a most\npure Liquor contain\u2019d in two Bottles, one of Gold and the other of\nSilver. These are in the Custody of _Franciscus Maturantius_, and are by\nhim valu\u2019d at an exceeding Rate.\nAbundance of other _Lamps_ of the like Nature are describ\u2019d by\n_Licetus_, and confuted by _Ferrarius_, whither we refer you; for seeing\nthey are but improbable Stories, and the Fictions of Poets, we think it\nnot worth while to spend our Time in repeating them; but in the next\nplace will proceed to enquire after what manner Authors do suppose\nperpetual burning _Lamps_ to have been made.\n[Sidenote: _Lamps_ that have burn\u2019d by a _Divine Power_,]\nThese, says _Licetus_, _Kircher_ and others, were order\u2019d divers ways,\n_First_, Miraculously and Preternaturally, as was that at _Antioch_,\nwhich burn\u2019d 1500 Years in an open and public Place, over the Door of a\nChurch, preserv\u2019d by that Divine Power who hath made so infinite a\nnumber of Stars to burn with perpetual Light. _Secondly_, [Sidenote: By\nthe wiles of the _Devil_,] By the wiles of the Devil, who, as St.\n_Austin_ tells us, deceives such a thousand ways, who, out of Curiosity\nand Avarice, consult Oracles or worship false Gods, so that when Men\nsought for the Sepulchres of these Gods, nothing was more easie than for\nthe Devil to represent a flash of Light or Flame to them at their first\nentring into such _Subterranean Caves_. Others assign Natural Reasons\nfor this, as that which Countrymen imagine to be a burning _Lamp_, at\ntheir first finding those _Sepulchres_, may be only a kind of _Ignis\nfatuus_, or pellucid Matter which shines in the dark; [Sidenote: Or from\na _Natural Cause_.] for such glimmering Coruscations are frequently seen\nin Church-Yards and fat marshy Grounds, especially at the breaking up of\nold Tombs, where no Air has been immitted for many Ages. Also Miners\nobserve, that at the first opening of a new Vein of Ore, such flames or\nflashes of Light break forth; yet are these not sufficient Arguments for\ncriticizing Philosophers, for some believe a _Lamp_ may be made with\nsuch Art as to burn perpetually, and others as absolutely deny it,\nalledging that whatever is resolv\u2019d into Vapour or Smoak cannot be\npermanent, but will consume, and the oily Nutriment of a lighted _Lamp_\nis exhal\u2019d into a Vapour, therefore the Fire cannot be perpetual for\nwant of a _Pabulum_. On the contrary, those that defend the possibility\nof making a perpetual _Lamp_, deny that all the Nourishment of kindl\u2019d\nFire must of necessity evaporate into a Damp or Vapour, asserting, that\nthere are things in Nature, which not only resist the force of Fire, and\nare inconsumable by it, but also inextinguishable either by Wind or\nWater: Such as these are some peculiar Preparations of _Gold_, _Silver_\nor _Mercury_; _Naptha_, _Petroleum_, and the like bituminous _Oils_;\nalso _Oil_ of _Camphir_, _Amber_ and _Bricks_; the _Lapis Asbestos seu\nAmianthus_, _Lapis Carystius_, _Cyprius_ and _Magnesius_ and _Linum\nvivum seu Creticum_, &c. of all which in their Order. _First_, They\naffirm such Matter might be prepar\u2019d either of _Gold_, _Silver_, or the\nlike Metal, [Sidenote: Or can be made with _Gold_, _Silver_,] made fluid\nafter a particular manner, and _Gold_ they thought the fittest _Pabulum_\nfor such an inconsumable _Lamp_, because, of all Metals, that wastes the\nleast when either heated or melted, yet what Oily Humidity can that or\nany other Metal afford which will catch Fire and continue its Flame? But\nthat these perpetual _Lamps_, if ever there were any such, were not\nprepar\u2019d of Metals, is sufficiently confuted by _Licetus_, p. 130 and\n132. and by _Ferrarius_, p. 16. tho\u2019 _Licetus_ in another place, _viz._\np. 44. makes mention of a Preparation of Quicksilver purged seven Times,\nthro\u2019 white Sand by Fire, of which, he says, _Lamps_ were made that\nwould burn perpetually; and that this Liquor was variously nam\u2019d by the\nChymists, [Sidenote: Or _Mercury_.] as _Aqua Mercurialis_, _Materia\nMetallorum_, _perpetua Dispositio_, _Materia prima Artis_, _Vitrum\nperenne incorruptumque_, _Oleum Vitri_, and the like. Nevertheless, how\nfabulous soever this may seem, both _Maturantius_ and _Citesius_ aver\nthey firmly believe, that to make a _Lamp_ which will burn perpetually,\nmust of necessity be a Chymical Work, tho\u2019 perhaps not made from any\nPreparation of Metal. [Sidenote: Two _Chymical Experiments_ for making\n_Eternal Fire_.] This appears from the Chymical Experiments of\n_Tritenhemius_ and _Bartholomeus Korndorferus_, who both made\nPreparations for Eternal Fire after the following manner.\n[Sidenote: First _Experiment_.]\nThe first was thus made: \u211e _Sulphur. Alum. ust. a_ \u2125 iv. sublime them\ninto Flowers to \u2125 ij. of which add of Christalline _Venetian_ Borax\npouder\u2019d \u2125 j. upon these affuse high rectify\u2019d Spirit of Wine and digest\nit, then abstract it and pour on fresh: Repeat this so often \u2019till the\nSulphur melt like Wax, without any Smoak, upon a hot Plate of Brass, and\nthis is for the _Pabulum_, but the Wiek is to be prepar\u2019d after this\nmanner: You must gather together the Threds or Thrums of the _Lapis\nAsbestos_, to the thickness of your middle, and length of your little\nFinger, which done, put them into a _Venice_ Glass, and covering them\nover with the aforesaid depurated Sulphur or Aliment, set the Glass in\nSand for the space of 24 Hours, so hot that the Sulphur may bubble all\nthe while. The Wiek being thus besmear\u2019d and anointed, is to be put into\na Glass like a Scallop-Shell, in such manner, that some part of it may\nlye above the Mass of prepar\u2019d Sulphur; then setting this Glass upon hot\nSand, you must melt the Sulphur, so that it may lay hold of the Wiek,\nand when \u2019tis lighted it will burn with a perpetual Flame, and you may\nset this _Lamp_ in any Place where you please. The way of making the\nother Eternal Fire is thus:\n[Sidenote: Second _Experiment_.]\n\u211e. _Salis tosti_, lb. j. affuse over it strong Wine-Vinegar, and\nabstract it to the consistency of Oil; then put on fresh Vinegar and\nmacerate and distill it as before. This repeat four Times successively,\nthen put into this Vinegar _Vitr. Antimonii subtiliss. l\u00e6vigat_, lb. j.\nset it on Ashes in a close Vessel for the space of six Hours, to extract\nits Tincture, decant the Liquor, and put on fresh, and then extract it\nagain; this repeat so often \u2019till you have got out all the redness.\nCoagulate your Extractions to the consistency of Oil, and then rectifie\nthem in _Balneo Mari\u00e6_: Then take the _Antimony_, from which the\nTincture was extracted, and reduce it to a very fine Meal, and so put it\ninto a glass Bolthead; pour upon it the rectify\u2019d Oil, which abstract\nand cohobate seven Times, \u2019till such time as the Pouder has imbib\u2019d all\nthe Oil, and is quite dry. This extract again with Spirit of Wine, so\noften, \u2019till all the Essence be got out of it, which put into a _Venice_\nMatrass, well luted with Paper five-fold, and then distill it so that\nthe Spirit being drawn off, there may remain at bottom an inconsumable\nOil, to be us\u2019d with a Wiek after the same manner with the Sulphur we\nhave describ\u2019d before.\nThese are those Eternal Lights of _Tritenhemius_, adds _Libavius_\u2019s\nCommentator, which indeed tho\u2019 they do not agree with the Pertinacy of\n_Naptha_, yet these things can illustrate one another. [Sidenote: _Lamp_\nmade with _Naptha_,] _Naptha_ is not so durable as not to be burn\u2019d, for\nit exhales and deflagrates, but if it be fix\u2019d by adding the Juice of\nthe _Lapis Asbestinos_, it can afford Perpetual Fuell, so says that\nLearned Person upon this Matter. Moreover, _Naptha_ is a sort of\n_Bitumen_ so very hot, that it presently burns every Thing it adheres\nto, nor is it easily extinguish\u2019d by any moist Thing; and _Pliny_ says\nit has such Affinity with Fire, that it presently leaps to it wherever\nit finds it. Thus \u2019tis reported _Glauca_ was burnt by _Medea_, when she\ncame to Sacrifice, for approaching the Altar the Fire immediately caught\nhold of her: This was because _Jason_, being in Love with _Glauca_, the\nDaughter of _Creon_ King of _Corinth_, had forsaken _Medea_, when she to\nbe reveng\u2019d on that Princess, wetted her Vail and Crown with _Naptha_,\nby which means she might be the sooner set on Fire, as _Plutarch_ has it\nin the Life of _Alexander_ the Great. Thus as _Naptha_ is very\ninflamable and ready to catch Fire, so is it not easily extinguish\u2019d\neither by Wind or Water, but burns more violently if cast into the\nWater, or agitated by the Wind. Of this kind also are some other sorts\nof _Bitumen_, such as _Petroleum_, _Amber_, _Camphir_, &c. therefore may\nbe proper Ingredients for these sorts of _Lamps_ we are speaking of. Now\nin _Egypt_ there were many Places full of _Bitumen_ and _Petroleum_, as\n_Bellonius_, _Radzivillus_, _Vall\u00e6us_, _Burattinus_, and other Searchers\ninto _Egyptian_ Antiquities testifie, which were constituted by the\nhidden Counsels of Nature, with an inexhaustible store of Matter;\nwherefore the Learned among them, who were great Naturalists, having\ndiscover\u2019d these bituminous Wells or Fountains, [Sidenote: With liquid\n_Bitumen_ or _Petroleum_.] laid from them secret Canals or Pipes to the\nSubterranean Caves and Sepulchres of the Dead, where, in a convenient\nPlace, they set a _Lamp_ with a Wiek of _Asbestos_, which was constantly\nmoisten\u2019d and supply\u2019d with Oil by means of this Duct from the\nafore-said Places: Seeing therefore the flowing of the Oil was\nperpetual, and the Wiek of _Asbestos_ inconsumable, it must of necessity\nfollow, that the Light also endur\u2019d perpetually. And that this was so,\n[Sidenote: Confirm\u2019d by _Schiangia_.] fully appears from what\n_Schiangia_ an _Arabian_ Author relates in his History of the memorable\nThings of _Egypt_, in much the same Words as follow: \u2018There was a Field\nin _Egypt_ whose Ditches were full of Pitch and liquid _Bitumen_, whence\nthe Philosophers knowing the force of Nature, dug some Canals to their\nSubterranean _Crypt\u00e6_, where they set a _Lamp_, which was joyn\u2019d to the\nafore-said Canals, and which having a Wiek of incombustible Flax, by\nthat means being once lighted, it burn\u2019d perpetually by reason of the\ncontinual afflux of _Bitumen_, and the incombustible Wiek.\u2019 The same\nthing might perhaps be effected with _Naptha_, which flow\u2019d at _Mutina_\nin _Italy_, as also with _Petroleum_ and _Sicilian Oil_. [Sidenote: And\nbeliev\u2019d by _Kircher_, &c.] This _Kircher_ and several others are of\nOpinion is the true way of making _perpetual Lamps_, seeing it is a\nThing purely natural, where such Bituminous Oils do abound, and has no\nother difficulty in it, but preparing the Wiek of _Asbestos_, or the\nlike, which comes next under our Consideration.\n[Sidenote: _Lapis Asbestos._]\nFirst _Asbestos_, call\u2019d by the _Greeks_ \u1f0c\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, i. e.\n_inextinguibilis_, a kind of Stone, which being set on fire, cannot be\nquench\u2019d, as _Pliny_ and _Solinus_ write. _Albertus Magnus_ describes it\nto be a Stone of an Iron colour, found for the most part in _Arabia_,\nand of such strange Virtue, as was manifest in the Temples of the\nHeathen Gods, that being once lighted it was never to be extinguish\u2019d,\nby reason of some small quantity of oleaginous Moisture, which was\ninseparately mix\u2019d with it, and which being inflam\u2019d cherish\u2019d the Fire:\nNow could any expert _Chymist_ rightly extract this indissoluble Oil, we\nneed not question but it would afford a perpetual _Pabulum_ for these\n_Eternal Lamps_ which the Ancients boast of; but many Experiments of\nthat kind have been made in vain, some affirming, [Sidenote: Its _Oil_.]\nthe Liquor chymically extracted from that Stone was more of a watry than\noily Nature, and withal so f\u00e6culent, that it was not capable to receive\nFire and exist. Others again have said, that this Oil was of so thick\nand solid a Substance that it would hardly flow, and for the most part\nburn\u2019d not at all or but very indifferently, emitting no Flame, or if it\ndid, it shone not with a bright splendor, but cast up thick and dark\nFumes, whereas on the contrary, those _Lamps_ of the Ancients, which\nburn\u2019d so many Ages, yielded a clear and bright Flame without any Smoak\nto soil the Vessel and circum-ambient Places, and which in time might\nboth obscure, stop up and put out the Light: Hence _Kircher_ is of\nOpinion, that tho\u2019 the Mistery of extracting this Oil be not\nimpracticable, yet it is very difficult to be attain\u2019d to by any Humane\nArt, and as _Ferrarius_ also observes, that as the Stone _Asbestos_, if\nonce lighted is inextinguishable, so much more must its Oil be both\nincombustible and inextinguishable, wherefore it does not appear that\nthe _Lamps_ of the Ancients were made either of one or the other, seeing\nfor the most part they are said to have gone out immediately on the\nopening of the Sepulchre where they were plac\u2019d.\n[Sidenote: _Asbeston seu Asbestinum._]\n_Secondly_, The very same is said of _Asbeston sive Asbestinum_, which\nthe _Greeks_ call \u1f0c\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, i. e. _inextinguibile, & est genus Lini quod\nIgnibus non absumitur_, a kind of Flax of which they made Cloth that was\nto be cleans\u2019d by burning, as Tobacco-Pipes are. _Pliny_ calls it _Linum\nvivum_ and _Indian_ Flax, and says it was so dear it was esteem\u2019d equal\nto Pearl and Precious Stones, for it was hard to be met with, and then\nvery difficult to be woven, by reason of the shortness of it. Also he\ntells us the Bodies of Kings were wont to be wrapp\u2019d in this sort of\nCloth, when they were to be burn\u2019d, to the end the Ashes might be\npreserv\u2019d unmix\u2019d from those of the _Funeral Pile_, in order to the\nlaying them up in Urns, as the Custom then was when they burn\u2019d their\ndead Bodies. Moreover _Pliny_ says, he saw some Napkins of this sort of\nCloth in his Time, and was an Eye-Witness of the Experiment of purifying\nthem by Fire.\nOne _Podocattarus_, a _Cyprian_ Knight, who wrote _de Rebus Cypriis_ in\nthe Year 1566, had both Flax and Linnen of this kind with him at\n_Venice_, which _Porcacchius_ says, in his Book of _Antient Funerals_,\nhe and many others that were with him, saw at that Knight\u2019s House. Also\n_Ludovicus Vives_ saw a Towel of this kind at _Lovain_ in _Brabant_, and\nseveral Wieks of it at _Paris_, as he himself relates in his Commentary\nupon St. _Austin_\u2019s Treatise _de Civitate Dei_. Likewise _Baptista\nPorta_, says he saw the same thing at _Venice_ in the hands of a\n_Cyprian_ Woman, and which he terms _Secretum optimum, perpulchrum &\nperutile_, a very useful, beautiful and profitable Secret. Several other\nAuthors testifie they have seen the same, but _Henricus Salmuthius_, in\nhis Commentary upon _Pancirollus_, p. 16. will have this sort of Linnen\nto be call\u2019d _Asbestinum_, from its likeness to Chalk, which he says the\n_Greeks_ term\u2019d \u1f0c\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, for as that is wont to be purify\u2019d by Fire, so\nis this Linnen made clean and white by burning. [Sidenote: Two\n_Objections_ against this _Asbeston_.] Now the chief Objections\n_Ferrarius_ makes against _Pliny_\u2019s Account of this incombustible and\ninextinguishable Flax are, first, That if Wieks had been made of it,\nthey would never have been consum\u2019d or extinguish\u2019d, or when once the\nFuneral Pile was lighted, the incombustible Linnen, wherein the Bodies\nwere wrapp\u2019d, as also the Napkins and Towels, which Authors mention,\nwould never have been quench\u2019d, but have burn\u2019d perpetually, whereas, he\nsays, this kind of Linnen burn\u2019d only so long as either Grease, Fat, or\nthe like _Sordes_ afforded the Flame a _Pabulum_, wherefore that being\nconsum\u2019d which had occasion\u2019d the Spots or Dirt, the Linnen appear\u2019d\nmore white and clean than if it had been wash\u2019d with Water and Soap.\nFrom this it appears also that those Funeral Shrouds of Kings, often\nmention\u2019d in Authors, burn\u2019d only so long upon the Pile as the Fat or\n_Sanies_ of the Body afforded Aliment, and when that fail\u2019d, the Flame\nceas\u2019d likewise; for otherwise, if this sort of Flaxen Linnen had been\ninextinguishable, as _Salmuthius_ seems to imply by the word \u1f0c\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd,\nhow could those Napkins or Funeral Shrouds, when once burn\u2019d, be ever\nhandl\u2019d or made use of any more without burning whatever they came near\nor touch\u2019d? The second Objection is taken from _Pliny_\u2019s own Words, who\ntells us, this sort of Flax was very scarce and of great Price, being\npreserv\u2019d for the Kings of that Country only, so that \u2019tis highly\nprobable the _Egyptians_ might make use of another sort of Cloth,\n[Sidenote: _Lapis Amiantus._] made of the Stone _Amiantus_, for burning\ntheir Bodies, and which, _Pliny_ says, they had the Art of Spinning at\nthat Time. _Plutarch_ also assures us that in his Time there was a\nQuarry of that Stone in the Island of _Negropont_, and that the like was\nto be found in the Isle of _Cyprus_, _Tines_, and else-where. Moreover,\n\u2019tis the common Opinion of the Learned, that both Funeral Shrouds or\nSheets, Table-Cloths, Napkins and the Wieks of the Perpetual _Lamps_ of\nthe Ancients, were made of this _Lapis Amiantus_, which Linnen, _&c._\n_Porcacchius_ and _Ludovicus Vives_ have particularly spoken of before:\nBesides, as _Dasamus_ relates, the Emperor _Constantine_ caus\u2019d Wieks to\nbe made of this Flax for those _Lamps_ which burn\u2019d perpetually in his\nBathing Place, and _Agricola_ affirms, that both Napkins, Table-Cloths,\n_&c._ were made at _Rome_, and at _Vereberge_ in _Bohemia_, of this\n_Lapis Amiantus_, which instead of washing when dirty, they were wont to\ncleanse and purifie by Fire. The best sort of this Stone was to be had\nin _Cyprus_ and _India_, from the former of which Countries it came to\nbe call\u2019d _Lapis Cyprius_ and _Linum Cyprium_; [Sidenote: _Lapis\nCyprius_ and _Linum Cyprium_.] but of late there has been very good\nfound in some Mines of _Italy_, of which see _Philosophical Transact._\nNo. 72. This Stone being beaten with a Hammer, and the Earth and Dust\nshaken out, appears like to Flax with its Filaments, and then is spun\nand woven into Cloth, which Art, says Dr. _Grew_ in his Description of\nthe Rarities in _Gresham_-College, as well as the Use is thought to be\nutterly lost, tho\u2019 it be not really so; for _Septalius_ in his _Mus\u00e6um_\nhas or lately had, both Thread, Ropes, Paper and Net-work, all made of\nthis Flax, and some of them with his own Hand. But _Grew_ seems to make\n_Asbestinus Lapis_ and _Amiantus_ all one, and calls them in _English_\nthe _Thrum-Stone_; he says it grows in short Threads or Thrums, from\nabout a quarter of an Inch to an Inch in length, parallel and glossy, as\nfine as those small single Threads the Silk-Worm spins, and very flexile\nlike to Flax or Tow. There are several pieces of this kind in the\naforesaid _Mus\u00e6um_, both white and green, of which the latter has the\nlongest Threads and the most flexile.\nOthers think the Funeral Shrouds, wherein the dead Bodies of Kings were\nburn\u2019d, as also the Wieks of those Perpetual _Lamps_ were made of the\n_Lapis Carystius_, [Sidenote: _Lapis Carystius._] a Stone so call\u2019d from\nthe City _Carystos_, and which signifies, _Ardens Tela, quod ex Lapide\nCarystio texeretur; Tela cujus sordes Igne purgabantur_. The Inhabitants\nkemb\u2019d, spun and wove this downy Stone into Mantles, Table-Linnen and\nthe like, which when foul they purify\u2019d again with Fire instead of\nWater, as _Mattheus Raderus_ mentions in his Comment on the 77th Epigr.\nof the IX. Book of _Martial_. Also _Pausanias_ in _Atticis_, and\n_Plutarch_ Lib. _De Oraculorum defectu_, deliver that the Wieks of\n_Lamps_ made hereof, and burn\u2019d with Oil, never consum\u2019d, tho\u2019 the\nlatter says the Stone was not to be found in his Time. [Sidenote: _Linum\nCarpasium._] Others say it was the _Linum Carpasium_ which was apply\u2019d\nto all these Uses, so call\u2019d _a Carpaso, Cypri Urbe_, and that Linnen\nmade thereof was call\u2019d _Carbasa_, which _Solinus_ says, would endure\nFire without consuming. Sometimes also \u2019tis call\u2019d _Linum Cyprium_,\n[Sidenote: _Cyprium._] of which kind of Flax it was made, and they\nreport the before-mention\u2019d _Podocatterus_, a _Cyprian_ Knight, shew\u2019d a\npiece of it to the _Venetians_, and which he cleans\u2019d by burning in the\nFire. _Franciscus Ru\u00e6us_, _Albertus Magnus_, _C\u00e6lius Rhodiginus_,\n_Camillus_, _Leonardus_, _Isiodorus_, and many other famous Writers\nalledge, if a Wiek be made of this kind of Flax, it will not consume\nwith Fire, and _Pausanias_ particularly says, the Wiek of the Golden\n_Lamp_ of _Minerva_ was made hereof. Much like this, if not directly the\nsame, was the Flax call\u2019d _Linum Creticum_; [Sidenote: _Creticum._] for,\nas _Solinus_ asserts, those _Carbasa_, that would endure the Fire, were\nmade in _Crete_. Also _Strabo_ says this _Linum Creticum_ was made out\nof a Rock, beaten into Threads, and the Earthy Matter shaken out, after\nwhich \u2019twas kemb\u2019d and woven into Cloth which was not to be consum\u2019d,\nbut might be cleans\u2019d by burning.\nOther Authors say inconsumable Cloth, and the Wieks of Perpetual _Lamps_\nwere made of the Stones _Magnesia_, _Alumen Sciscile_, and the like;\n[Sidenote: _Magnesia_, _Alumen Sciscile_, &c.] but whether under\ndifferent Denominations one thing might be meant, I can by no means\npretend to determin, altho\u2019 _Hieronymus Mercurialis_ thinks Linnen made\nof the _Lapis Carystius_ to be the same which _Pliny_ calls _Linum\nvivum_, _Pausanias_, _Carpasium_, _Solinus_, _Carbasum_, _Zoroaster_,\n_Bostrichitem_, others _Corsoidem_, some _Poliam_ or _Spartopoliam_, and\nthe common People _Villam Salamandr\u00e6_. Tho\u2019 after all, the Ancients\nmight very probably have some other Invention for burning Bodies, such\nas to set them on the Fire in a Coffin of Stone, Brass or Iron, from\nwhence it was very easie to gather the Ashes and Bones that were not\nconsum\u2019d; and as for the _Lamps_ some are of Opinion they had no Wieks\nat all: Among these was _Licetus_, who believes the antient _Lamps_\nwanted Wieks, because few or none of them have been found, and\n_Ludovicus Vives_ is the only Person that affirms he has seen any; but\nthis is nevertheless a conjectural Opinion, since they might have been\ndestroy\u2019d either by Time, Fire or any other Accident. However, he at\nleast affirms the Wiek of a _Lamp_ not to be absolutely necessary\ntowards its burning, by reason _Camphir_, _Naptha_, _Oil of Bricks_,\nliquid _Bitumen_, and the like, will for the most part take Fire without\nany addition of a Wiek. _Ferrarius_, on the contrary, does not deny but\nrather confirm the use of Wieks, making the Question dubious, [Sidenote:\nWhether the _Perpetuity_ of a _Lamp_ proceeded from the _Oil_ or\n_Wiek_.] whether the perpetuity of Light in _Lamps_ proceeded mostly\nfrom the Oil or Wiek? If from the Oil, says he, why did they generally\ngo out upon the admission of Air into the Sepulchre at its first\nopening? For Air or a gentle gale of Wind is not commonly found\nprejudicial to the flame of Oil, but only violent Blasts or Storms,\nwhich if absent, the Flame or Light will continue so long as the Aliment\nlasts. But how then came the _Lamps_ of _Minerva_, _Pallas_ and others\nnot to be extinguish\u2019d by the rushing in of Wind or sprinkling of Dust,\nand only by breaking the _Lamp_? Surely there must needs have been two\nkinds of inconsumable Oil, one which fear\u2019d any admission of Air, and\nanother which defy\u2019d the most violent storms of Rain or Wind; or perhaps\none might be the effect of an Oil-_Lamp_ without any Wiek, and the other\nof a _Lamp_ which had both Oil and Wiek, which certainly must have been\nthe most permanent. For grant there are some Oils so spirituous and\ninflammable, that they will of themselves catch Fire at a great\ndistance, yet must these needs be too volatile to occasion a _Lamp_ to\nburn perpetually, unless they are fix\u2019d with some more permanent Matter,\n[Sidenote: Both _Wiek_ and _Oil_ in a _Lamp_.] and then they cannot be\nso easily lighted without a Wiek; neither can we understand how it\nshould burn so above the _Lamp_, unless the Flame be supported by a\nlittle Cord or Wiek, the Vehicle of the Oil: Besides, What can that\nlittle _Foramen_ at the Beak of all the _Lamps_ mean, but only to thrust\nthe Wiek and Light out at? \u2019Tis plain therefore they had Wieks, but what\nthey were made of, whether of _Asbestos_, _Amiantus_, or any of the\nbefore-mention\u2019d Things, is somewhat difficult to decide; forasmuch as\nthey being reported both to have been inconsumable and inextinguishable,\nwhen once lighted, they must needs have burn\u2019d perpetually, and\nconsequently the _Lamps_ have had no occasion for any Oil; but this is\ncertainly false, for both the _Lamps_ and _Funeral Shrouds_ burn\u2019d only\nso long as there was any Oil, Fat, or oleaginous Moisture remaining,\nwhich being consum\u2019d they likewise ceas\u2019d, yet might perhaps remain\nunconsum\u2019d, but that without any Flame. However, we must not deny there\nwere any Wieks in _Lamps_, because they could not, as most are of\nopinion, continue to burn of themselves without any oily inflammable\nMatter, but rather all believe both the Oil and Wiek had a Virtue to\nassist each other, and on the contrary could not burn separately for any\nduration or considerable Time. But some have thought quite otherwise of\nthis matter, _viz._ That what Country-Peasants imagine they see at the\nfirst breaking up of such Sepulchres are only the sudden irradiations\nand reflections of the Sun in those dark Caves, or else some sparks of\nLight rais\u2019d by the percussion or attrition of their Iron-Tools against\nthe Stones, a glimmering Vapour of the Earth, or the like Appearances,\nwhich being heightn\u2019d by the strength of their prepossess\u2019d Fancy, they\neasily take to be one of the Perpetual _Lamps_ of the Ancients, which\nhad burn\u2019d \u2019till then, but was immediately extinguish\u2019d upon the rushing\nin of the Air, or accidental breaking of the _Lamp_. But _Gutherius_\nthinks the contrary; he imagines it was some Liquor or Pouder which took\nfire at the entring in of the Air: And _Johan. Sigism. Elholtius_, in\nhis Observations _de Phosphoris_, p. 9. obs. 2. Sect. 4. compares his\nliquid _Phosphorus_ or _Cold Fire_, as he terms it, with the _Lamps_ of\nthe Ancients in these Words: [Sidenote: _Perpetual Burning Lamp_ thought\nto be liquid _Phosphorus_.] _Plura circa_ frigidum _hunc_ Ignem\n_Ph\u0153nomina hactenus non observavimus, in posterum tamen istis\nexperimentis plus oper\u00e6 sumus impensuri, & postea communicaturi.\nProfecto, si conjectura quorundam de_ Lucernis Veterum _Sepulchralibus\nvera est, quod scilicet non Mille vel amplius Annos illa arserint, sed\nquod apert\u00e6 demum ardere c\u00e6perint, tum utique ab Oleo illo Antiquorum,\nnon multum obfuerit hic_ Phosphorus liquidus. _Qui enim quiescens &\nobturatus haud nitet, apertus & inter aperiendum motus, corruscare atque\nflagrare incipit: restaurat\u00e6q; hoc pacto forent Lucern\u00e6 ill\u00e6, multis\nretro Seculis inter_ Deperdita _ab omnibus relat\u00e6_. _We have not\nhitherto observ\u2019d more_ Ph\u0153nomena _concerning this_ Cold Fire,\n_nevertheless intend for the future to spend more Time and Labour in\nthese Experiments, and then will communicate them to the Public. But\nsurely if a certain Conjecture concerning the_ Lamps _of the Ancients be\ntrue_, viz. _That they burn\u2019d not a Thousand or more Years, but at\nlength when they came to be discover\u2019d began to burn, then certainly\nthis liquid_ Phosphorus _cannot differ much from that Oil of the\nAncients, which lying quiet and stopp\u2019d up, hardly shines; but being\nopen\u2019d, in the motion of opening begins to corruscate and burn, and\nafter this manner those_ Lamps _would be restor\u2019d, which are related by\nall to have been lost for many Ages_.\n[Sidenote: _Licetus_\u2019s Opinion that a _Perpetual Lamp_ may be made.]\nNevertheless, _Licetus_ endeavours to persuade us that a _Pabulum_ for\nFire may be given with such an equal Temperament, as cannot be consum\u2019d\nbut after a long Series of Ages, and so that neither the Matter shall\nexhale but strongly resist the Fire, nor the Fire consume the Matter,\nbut be restrain\u2019d by it, as it were with a Chain, from flying upward.\nThis, says Sir _Thomas Brown_ in his _Vulgar Errors_, p. 124. speaking\nof _Lamps_ which have burn\u2019d many Hundreds of Years, included in close\nBodies, proceeds from the Purity of the Oil, which yeilds no fuliginous\nExhalations to suffocate the Fire; for if Air had nourish\u2019d the Flame,\nthen it had not continu\u2019d many Minutes, for it would certainly in that\ncase have been spent and wasted by the Fire.\nBut the Art of preparing this _inconsumable Oil_ is lost, having\nperish\u2019d long since, as _Pancirollus_ assures us, but neither he nor any\nother Learned Man has given us any convincing Proof that there ever was\nsuch a Thing, but only think to amuse us with a wonderful Art, and then\ntell us only it is quite lost. And for my part I cannot see hitherto\nthat all that has been wrote or said on this Subject is sufficient to\nprove there ever was any such Thing, and much more that it ever could be\nmade. _Licetus_, who has argu\u2019d most on this Head, is confuted by\n_Aresius_, and in a word, all that can be alledg\u2019d is, that if this Art\nbe not impossible to be effected, it is nevertheless as difficult to be\nattain\u2019d to, by any Human Invention, as the _Perpetual Motion_ or\n_Philosophers Stone_, therefore I shall not trouble my Thoughts any\nfarther about these _Lamps_, but only look on them as so many\n_Hieroglyphics_ or Symbols of the _Immortality_ of the _Soul_, and\nheartily pray that we may not want _Oil_ in our _Lamps_ when the\n_Bridegroom_ shall come, but be prepar\u2019d to enjoy _Eternal Light_ with\nhim, which is the devout Prayer of,\n                      Authors quoted in this Book.\n _Absyrtus._\n _Cl. \u00c6lianus._\n _A\u00ebtius._\n _Agellius._\n _Albertus Leoninus._\n _Albertus magnus._\n _P. Alpinus._\n _D. Ambrosius._\n _Ammianus Marcellinus._\n _Apella Jud\u00e6us._\n _Petr. Appianus._\n _Appion._\n _Apuleius._\n _Aretius._\n _Aristoteles._\n _Aristides._\n _Arnobius._\n _Artemidorus._\n _Athenagoras._\n _Athen\u00e6us._\n _D. Augustinus._\n _Avicenna._\n _Aurelius._\n _M. Aurelius Antoninus._\n _Sext. Aurelius Victor._\n Lord _Bacon_.\n _Rob. Baronius, Cardinalis._\n _Barthius._\n _Tho. Bartholinus._\n _Bartholom\u00e6us._\n Sir _John Beaumont_, Kt.\n _Bellonius._\n _Bellori._\n _Phil. Bergomas._\n _Joh. Bilsius._\n _Steph. Blancardus._\n _Boccatius._\n _Ol. Borrichius._\n _Bossuet._\n _Botio._\n Sir _Tho. Brown_, Kt.\n Dr. _Edw. Brown_.\n _M. Corneille le Bruyn._\n _Tit. Liv. Burattinus._\n _Gilb. Burnet_, D. D.\n _Joan. Buxtorfius._\n _C\u00e6lius Rhodiginus._\n _Joh. Calvin._\n _Camden._\n _Camerarius._\n _Camillus._\n _Jac. Capellus._\n _Hier. Cardanus._\n _Joan. Bapt. Casalius._\n _Casimirus._\n _Cedrenus._\n _Gabr. Clauderus._\n _Clemens Alexandrinus._\n _Cl. Claudianus._\n _William Clark._\n _Herm. Conringius._\n _Cornelius Celsus._\n _Joan. Chrysostomus._\n _Chytr\u00e6us._\n _M. T. Cicero._\n _Franc. Citesius._\n _Val. Cordus._\n _Joan. Cost\u00e6us._\n _Tho. Creech._\n _Q. Curtius._\n _Delachampius._\n _Mart. Delrius._\n _Democritus._\n _Demosthenes._\n _Diodorus Siculus._\n _Dionysius Halicarnass\u00e6us._\n _Ped. Dioscorides._\n _Joh. Dryden._\n Bishop of _Ely_.\n _Joan. Sigism. Elholtius._\n _Eratosthenes._\n _Sebast. Ericius._\n _Mich. Etmullerus._\n _Euripides._\n _Eusebius._\n _Pet. Faber._\n _Firmianus._\n _Erasm. Franciscus._\n _Wolfg. Franzius._\n _Cl. Galenus._\n _Aulus Gellius._\n _B. Gerhard._\n _Conr. Gesnerus._\n _Sax. Grammaticus._\n _Joh. Greaves._\n _Gretserus._\n _Hug. Grotius._\n _Andr. Gryphius._\n _Antonio de Guevara._\n _Claude Guichard._\n _Melch. Guilandius._\n _Gutherius._\n _Lil. Gyraldus._\n _Joan. Henr. Heideggerus._\n _Heliodorus._\n _Henshaw._\n _M. Joan. Herbinius._\n _Herodotus._\n _Hermolaus Barbarus._\n _Pet. Heylin._\n _Hippocrates._\n _Aul. Hirtius._\n _Homer._\n _Jacobonus._\n _Iamblichus._\n _Jarchas._\n St. _Jerome_.\n _Josephus._\n _Isiodorus._\n _Isocrates._\n _Justinus._\n _Juvenalis._\n _Athan. Kircher._\n _Joan. Kirkmannus._\n _Barth. Korndorferus._\n _Kornmannus._\n _Lactantius._\n _Langius._\n _Wolfg. Lazius._\n _Lampridius._\n _Leander._\n _Leo Africanus._\n _Leonardus._\n _Andr. Libavius._\n _Phil. Libertus._\n _Fortun. Licetus._\n _Just. Lipsius._\n _T. Livius._\n _Lucanus._\n _Lucianus._\n _Lucretius._\n _Nich. Lyranus._\n _Macrobius._\n _Maimonides._\n _Sim. Maiolus._\n _Manetho._\n _Martialis._\n _Martinus._\n _Franc. Maturantius._\n _Matthiolus._\n _Andr. Maurocenus._\n _Pomp. Mela._\n _P. Menestrier._\n _Minutius Felix._\n _Hieron. Mercurialis._\n _Joh. Milton._\n _Bened. Ar. Montanus._\n _Joan. Nardius._\n _Natalis Comes._\n _Greg. Nazianzen._\n _Nicephorus Callistus._\n _Joan. Nicolaius._\n _Nubiensis Geographia._\n _Origen._\n _Pet. Pais._\n _Guid. Pancirollus._\n _Onuph. Panvinus._\n _Pausanias._\n _Louis Penicher._\n _Petronius Arbiter._\n _Philostratus._\n _Philoxenes._\n _Pierius._\n _Pflaumerus._\n _Plato._\n _Plautus._\n _Plinius._\n _Plutarchus._\n _Podocatterus._\n _Tho. Porcacchius._\n _Porphyrius._\n _J. Bap. Porta._\n _Proclus._\n _Prosper Alpinus._\n _Aur. Prudentius._\n _Ptolom\u00e6us._\n _Joan. Andr. Quenstedt._\n _Matth. Raderus._\n _Jo. Raius._\n _Radzivillus._\n _Rhasis._\n _C\u00e6l. Rhodiginus._\n _Andr. Rivetus._\n _Hier. Ruscellius._\n _Fran. Ru\u00e6us._\n _Frid. Ruysh._\n _Cl. Salmasius._\n _Alph. Salmeron._\n _Henr. Salmuthius._\n _Sanctius._\n _Sanchuniathon._\n _Sandys._\n _Santorellus._\n _Saturnius._\n _Saxo Grammaticus._\n _Jul. C\u00e6s. Scaliger._\n _Bernardin. Scardeonius._\n _Mich. Schatta._\n _Schiangia._\n _Joan. Schroderus._\n _Seleucus._\n _Seneca._\n _Serapion._\n _Servius._\n _Cabr. Sionita._\n _Silius Italicus._\n _Solinus._\n _Sopranes._\n _P. Statius._\n _Spartianus._\n _Nich. Steno._\n _Suetonius._\n _Suidas._\n _Sulpitius Severus._\n _Joh. Swammerdam._\n _Corn. Tacitus._\n _Alex. Tassonius._\n _Tatian._\n Father _Telles_.\n _William_ Arch-bishop of _Tyre_.\n _Theophrastus._\n _Thevenot._\n _Tolosanus._\n _Alphons. Tostatus._\n _Joan. Trithemius._\n _Valerianus._\n _Valerius Maximus._\n _Vall\u00e6us._\n _Vanslebius._\n _Varro._\n _Rich. Verstegan._\n _Joan. Veslingius._\n _P. Virgilius Maro._\n _Polyd. Vergilius._\n _Fl. Vopiscus._\n _Raph. Volaterranus._\n _Weever._\n _Ol. Wormius._\n _Xenophon._\n _Xiphilinus._\n _Zoroaster._\n _Zosimus._\n _Abel-mizraim_, 283.\n _Abiit, non obiit_, why writ on Tombs, 55.\n _Abraham_\u2019s Burying-place, 8.\n _Absalom_, how buried, 52.\n \u2014\u2014 his Pillar, _ibid. &_ 86.\n _Achan_ and King _Ai_ buried under a Heap of Stones, 51.\n _Acherusia_, 301.\n _Achilles_ feared Sea-burial, 48.\n _Act_ of Burial, 72, 82.\n _Adam_, where buried, 8.\n _\u00c6neas_, why called by the Name of _Pious_, 34.\n \u2014\u2014 afraid of Sea burial, 45.\n \u2014\u2014 took care of Sepulture, 43.\n _Agues_ malignant, 165.\n _\u00c6thiopians_, how they _Embalm_, 63.\n _Air_ and _Water_ of _Egypt_ both very good, 158.\n _Air_ of _Egypt_, very hot, 146.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 cool\u2019d by the _Nile_, and Annual Winds, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 moist, prejudicial to _Embalming_, 151.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 unequal, bad for _Embalming_, 159.\n _Air_ poisoned, 13.\n \u2014\u2014 moist, infected by a putrid Carcass, 14.\n _Alexander_ very careful of his _Sepulture_, 42.\n \u2014\u2014 made a magnificent _Funeral_ for his Horse _Bucephalus_, 30.\n _Alexandria_, 211.\n \u2014\u2014 eminent for the Liberal Sciences, 215.\n \u2014\u2014 how industrious and flourishing, 235.\n \u2014\u2014 its Earth full of _Nitre_, 220.\n _Aloes_, what meant by that Word in _Embalming_, 253.\n \u1f08\u03bb\u03bb\u1f71\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, 185.\n _Amiantus Lapis_, 360.\n _Anatomy_, why so called, 180.\n \u2014\u2014 its _Encomium_, 182.\n \u2014\u2014 very useful in _Embalming_, ibid.\n \u2014\u2014 anciently performed by great and holy Men, 251.\n _Ancients_ feared Sea burial, 45.\n _Animals_ which bury their Dead, 26.\n \u2014\u2014 _embalmed_ with Cedar, 274.\n _Anointing_ the Dead, 59, 60, 61.\n \u2014\u2014 a kind of _Embalming_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 to what purpose used, 63.\n \u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f79\u03bd\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, 260.\n _Apoplexy_, 165.\n _Apollo_ the younger, 175.\n _Arithmetic_, how first invented, 231.\n _Arts_, how first invented, 229.\n \u2014\u2014 most flourishing in the Reign of _Amasis_, 235.\n \u2014\u2014 can never flourish where _Quacks_ and _Undertakers_ are, 179.\n _Art_ of making Gold and Silver, 183.\n \u2014\u2014 of tinging Glass, and making artificial Stones, 185.\n \u2014\u2014 of Distilling, Calcining, _&c._ 186.\n \u2014\u2014 of _Bandage_, 188.\n \u2014\u2014 of Poisoning the Air, 13.\n   which chiefly consists of Man\u2019s Flesh, 14.\n _Asa_\u2019s Burial, 61.\n _Asphalt_, 276.\n \u2014\u2014 how us\u2019d in _Embalming_, ib. & 288.\n _Assius Lapis_, 257.\n _Astrology_ of the _Egyptians_, 191.\n \u2014\u2014 how invented, 231.\n _Athothus_, the ancient Egyptian _Mercury_, 170.\n \u2014\u2014 Inventor of Images, Characters, and Dancing, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 Sacrific\u2019d Animals, and learned _Embalming_ and _Anatomy_, 172.\n \u1f0c\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f71\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd, 38.\n _Attiring_ the Corps, 64.\n \u2014\u2014 with white Vests, 66.\n \u2014\u2014 why it should be used, 66, 68.\n \u2014\u2014 what sort only exclaim\u2019d against, 67.\n _Asbestos Lapis_, 357.\n \u2014\u2014 its Oil, _ib._\n _Asbeston_, seu _Asbestinum_, 358.\n \u2014\u2014 two Objections against it, 359.\n _Averruncal_ Statues, 298.\n _Authors_ who have written of Sepulchral Lamps, 330.\n _Babylon_, 204.\n \u2014\u2014 in _Chaldea_, 225.\n _Babylonians_, how they _embalmed_, 63.\n _Balsam Plant_, 208.\n \u2014\u2014 Its Description, 209.\n \u2014\u2014 Virtues, 110.\n _Basaltes_, an _Ethiopic_ Stone, 251.\n _Bechira_ seu _Bechiria_, 127.\n _Bees_, how they bury and _embalm_ themselves, 28.\n _Berd il Agiuz_, 154.\n =Bergwachs=, 277.\n _Beth-chajim_, 17.\n _Bitumen Judaicum_, 276, 288.\n _Body_, why to be taken care of, 25, 103, 105.\n \u2014\u2014 the _Temple_ of _God_, 25.\n \u2014\u2014 stuff\u2019d with Medicinal Ingredients, 252.\n \u2014\u2014 with _Myrrh_, _Aloes_, and _Cinnamon_, 253.\n \u2014\u2014 preserv\u2019d in a Salt-Pit, 269.\n \u2014\u2014 only prepared with _Pissasphalt_, 278.\n \u2014\u2014 with artificial _Pissasphalt_, ib.\n First-_born_ of _Egypt_ slain, 343, 344.\n _Brain_ how extracted, 241, 248, 249.\n _Brutes_ buried with Pomp and Magnificence, 30.\n A great _Burning_ made for King _Asa_, 61.\n _Burning_ the Dead, how order\u2019d, 83.\n \u2014\u2014 why used, 82.\n \u2014\u2014 how long continued in use, 85.\n \u2014\u2014 as liable to be ill treated by an Enemy as Burial, 50.\n \u2014\u2014 an ignominious Way of Burial, 85.\n _Burial_, its Rise and Antiquity, 8.\n \u2014\u2014 1st Cause of it, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 5th Cause, _ib._\n _Burial_, thought more beneficial to the Living than Dead, 9, 10.\n \u2014\u2014 frees from the Terror of Death, 11.\n \u2014\u2014 preserves Bodies from Putrifaction, 11, 15.\n _Burial_, a Work acceptable to God, 33.\n \u2014\u2014 to our Saviour, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 an Act of _Justice_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 a Work of Piety and Religion, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 of Mercy and Humanity, _ib._\n _Burial_, the Care of the _Gods_, 35.\n \u2014\u2014 an Honour to the Dead, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 an Happiness, Favour and Kindness, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 called by various Names, 33, 34.\n \u2014\u2014 how called by the _Saxons_, 92.\n _Burial-place_, called by several Names, 17.\n _Burial_ in the City, 93. Vide, _Places of Sepulture_.\n \u2014\u2014 by some used in the Day, by others in the Night, 72.\n \u2014\u2014 more ancient than Burning, 85.\n \u2014\u2014 observ\u2019d by Brutes as well as Men, 26.\n \u2014\u2014 decent, what, 49.\n \u2014\u2014 ignominious, what, 49, 51.\n Why there ought to be different kinds of Burial, 35, 52, 53.\n _Burial_, why despised by some, 21, 22.\n \u2014\u2014 in what Sense the _Philosophers_ slighted it, 23.\n \u2014\u2014 the Want of it not prejudicial to the Soul, 18.\n \u2014\u2014 yet much feared by the _Heathens_, 21.\n \u2014\u2014 as believing the Souls of the unburied wandred 100 Years, _ib._\n _Burial_, the want of it a Punishment, 47.\n \u2014\u2014 some kinds of it a Punishment, 49, 51, 52.\n To be buried like an _Ass_, a Curse, 38.\n _C\u00e6sar_\u2019s Palace, 213.\n _Cairo_, Old and New, 205.\n _Campus Sceleratus_, or Burying-place of the _Vestal Virgins_, 50.\n _Campus Martius_, 89.\n _Canal_, or _Khalis_, 206, 213.\n _Canibals_, eat Man\u2019s Flesh, 14.\n _Cardan_\u2019s _Mausoleum_ for a Fly, 29.\n Care the _Ancients_ took of _Sepulture_, 32.\n Carrying forth the Corps, 71.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 how managed, 73.\n _Carver_, 286.\n _Castle_ of _Roude_, 133.\n _Cataracts_ of _Nile_, 130.\n \u2014\u2014 the greater, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 the lesser, 131.\n _Caves_ near the _Pyramids_, 323.\n _Cave_ called the _Church_, 329.\n \u2014\u2014 with two _Mummies_ in it, _ib._\n _Cedar_-Ship built by _Sesostris_, 183.\n _Cedria_, what, 271.\n \u2014\u2014 its Liquor, Oil, Pitch, Gum, _&c._ 272.\n \u2014\u2014 its Virtues, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 Clysters made of it, and their Operations, 273.\n _Cenotaphs_, 97, 99.\n _Cera di Minera_, 277.\n _Ceremonies_ in Funerals not to be neglected, 53.\n \u2014\u2014 how and when useful, 102.\n _Cheop_\u2019s Tomb, 318.\n \u2014\u2014 the spacious _Chamber_ which contains it, _ib._\n _Chimistry_ invented by _Hermes_, 183.\n _Chimical_ Medicines useful in _Embalming_, 186, 245.\n _Cimon_ the _Athenian_ buried his Horses, 30.\n _Cleopatra_\u2019s Palace, 214.\n _Clerk_, who, 280.\n _Climate_ of _Egypt_, 145.\n _Closing_ the Eyes, 55.\n _Coffins_ made of _Sycamore_, 295.\n _Conclamation_, 57, 58.\n \u2014\u2014 thought useless by _Santorellus_, 58.\n _Cold Fire_, a sort of _Phosphorus_, 365.\n _Cold of the old Hag_, a Season so call\u2019d, 154.\n _Colossus_ made of _Emerald_, 9 Cubits high, 186.\n _Collerus_\u2019s Funeral Oration, 43.\n _Comparative Anatomy_, 4.\n _Corpora Condita_, 285.\n _Corpus Medicatum_, 284.\n _Corps_, (Handsome) well-pleasing to the Ancients, 57.\n \u2014\u2014 why it soonest consumes in a Church-yard, 15.\n _Creatures_, every one takes care of their own Funeral, 27.\n _Crowning_ the Dead, 69.\n \u2014\u2014 a Reward to Vertue, _ib. &_ 70.\n \u2014\u2014 whence deriv\u2019d, and to what end, 69.\n _Crypt\u00e6_, 202.\n \u2014\u2014 why so call\u2019d, 96.\n \u2014\u2014 _Kiovienses_, 95.\n \u2014\u2014 one found at _Nismes_, 96.\n _Curing a Corps_, what, 188.\n _Cynocephalus_, 231.\n _David_\u2019s Sepulchre, 37.\n _Day_ of _Burial_, when, 72.\n \u2014\u2014 of _Burning_, ib.\n _Delta_, why so called, 127, 131.\n _Dead Bodies_, why kept 7 Days, 58.\n \u2014\u2014 kept in their Houses, 304.\n \u2014\u2014 plac\u2019d at the Table, _ib._\n _Dead Sea_, 143.\n _Death_ compar\u2019d to Sleep, 56, 110.\n _Dei Ager aut Fundus_, 17.\n _Delphian Oracle_, how to be understood, 4.\n _Demonactes_, how he desired to be buried, 23.\n _Deprivation_ of ones Sepulchre, a Curse, 37.\n _Description_ of the _Ichnography_ and _Scenography_ of the\n    Subterranean Caves, 327.\n \u2014\u2014 of some _Lamps_, 333.\n \u2014\u2014 of the first and fairest _Pyramid_, 312.\n \u2014\u2014 of the Gallery, 316.\n _Dew_ of _Egypt_, 156.\n _Difference_ between Ecclesiastical and Criminal Burial, 49.\n _Dioclesian_, why he burnt all _Chimical_ Books, 184.\n _Diodorus Siculus_\u2019s Account of the _Egyptian_ Funerals, 243.\n _Diogenes\u2019_ jocose Sayings concerning _Sepulture_, 22.\n _Dolphins_ take care of their Dead, 26.\n _Domus Viventium_, 17.\n _Dresses_ and _Ornaments_ of the _Mummies_, 294.\n _Dropsie_, 164.\n _Drugs_ brought by the _Caravan_, 207.\n To become like _Dung_, rotting upon the Earth, the severe Judgment and\n    Punishment of _God_, 39, 40.\n _Eccho_ very remarkable in the great _Pyramid_, 315.\n _Egypt_, how scituate and bounded, 124.\n \u2014\u2014 its Denominations, 125.\n \u2014\u2014 why called _\u00c6gyptus_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 Govern\u2019d by _Coptus_, 126.\n \u2014\u2014 its Extent, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 ancient and modern Division, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 its Fertility, 139.\n \u2014\u2014 the drying Quality of its Earth, 153.\n \u2014\u2014 Mistress of the World, and Mother of all Arts and Sciences, 190.\n \u2014\u2014 its Number of Cities and Inhabitants, 236.\n \u2014\u2014 how it came to be so populous, _ib._\n _Egyptian_, _\u00c6sculapius_, 172.\n \u2014\u2014 _Arts_, how they came to be lost, 184.\n _Egyptians_, their Characters, ancient and modern, 160.\n \u2014\u2014 their Make, Complexion, and Temper, 161.\n \u2014\u2014 Women very fruitful in Children, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 their Constitution and Habit of Body, 162.\n \u2014\u2014 very long liv\u2019d, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 their Diseases, 163.\n \u2014\u2014 first Authors of _Medicine_, 168.\n \u2014\u2014 well skill\u2019d in _Anatomy_, 179.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 in _Ostiology_, 182.\n \u2014\u2014 their Antiquity, 190.\n \u2014\u2014 Inventions, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 Astrology, 191.\n \u2014\u2014 Mathematics, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 Architecture, 193.\n \u2014\u2014 their Opinion of the _Metempsychosis_, 238.\n \u2014\u2014 their Belief of the Resurrection, 106, 240.\n \u2014\u2014 Famous in Arts and Sciences, 189.\n \u2014\u2014 the first Inventors of them, 190.\n \u2014\u2014 by what Means they perform\u2019d such wonderful Works, 237.\n \u2014\u2014 and to what end, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 the first Inventors of _Embalming_, 61.\n \u2014\u2014 why they _embalmed_ Bodies, 106.\n \u2014\u2014 how they _embalm\u2019d_ them, 238, 248.\n \u2014\u2014 they _embalmed_ Cats, Crocodiles, Hawks, _&c._ 32.\n \u2014\u2014 they set their Dead on their Feet, 85.\n \u2014\u2014 they deny\u2019d Burial to executed Persons, 47.\n _Elatio_, or the carrying forth a _Corps_, 71.\n _Elephants_ bury their Dead, 29.\n _Embalming_, a noble _Art_, 4.\n \u2014\u2014 a Branch of _Surgery_, 2.\n \u2014\u2014 very useful in Natural Philosophy, Physiology, Divinity, Physic,\n \u2014\u2014 chiefly practised by _Undertakers_, 2.\n \u2014\u2014 particularly useful in _Anatomy_ and _Surgery_, 3.\n \u2014\u2014 teaches Medicines against _Gangrenes_, _&c._ 4.\n \u2014\u2014 what accounted by the Ancients, and what by the present Age, 4, 5.\n \u2014\u2014 its _Antiquity_, 5.\n \u2014\u2014 invented by the _Egyptians_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 of general Use, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 by most despised, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 the chief of all funeral Ceremonies, 103.\n \u2014\u2014 the best Way of Preserving the Memory of the Dead, 107.\n \u2014\u2014 not contrary to the Scriptures, 108.\n \u2014\u2014 acceptable to _God_, 112.\n \u2014\u2014 approved by our _Saviour_, 115.\n \u2014\u2014 an Emblem of the Resurrection, 112.\n _Embalming_, in a general sense very extensive, 115.\n \u2014\u2014 the most durable thing, 117.\n \u2014\u2014 useful in _Phisiology_ and _Physic_, 18.\n \u2014\u2014 in _Anatomy_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 in _Surgery_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 necessary for transporting Bodies, 119.\n \u2014\u2014 secures from the Insults of Animals, 120.\n \u2014\u2014 what intended by it, 120, 121.\n \u2014\u2014 that of the _Hebrews_ different from that of the old _Egyptians_,\n _Embalming_, how found out, 233.\n \u2014\u2014 with _Pissasphalt_, 287.\n \u2014\u2014 with _Cedar_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 with _Asphalt_, 288.\n \u2014\u2014 with _Aromatics_, ib.\n _Embalming_ of _Jacob_, 281.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 performed in 40 Days, 282.\n _Embalmer_, 177.\n \u2014\u2014 much honoured, 250.\n _Embowelling_ a Corps, 251.\n _Entrance_ into the Caves, 326.\n _Enoch_ and _Elijah_, neither dy\u2019d nor corrupted, 115.\n _Epitaph_ on a Bee, 28.\n _Epagomene_, 153.\n \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03bf\u03c0\u1f7d\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2, 286.\n \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1f75\u03c2, _ib._ & 280, 286.\n =Erdwachs=, 277.\n _Erriff_, 127.\n _Euripides_\u2019s Opinion of _Sepulture_, 35.\n _Expences_ of a _Funeral_, insignificant without _Embalming_, 102.\n _Experiments_ concerning Scarcity of _Rain_ in _Egypt_, 157.\n \u2014\u2014 of the _Water_, 158.\n \u2014\u2014 for making _eternal Fire_, 352.\n _Fame_ the _Goddess_ of _Embalming_, 117.\n _Feasts_ for the Dead, 84.\n \u2014\u2014 to what end instituted, 343.\n \u2014\u2014 the true and sacred Reason, _ib._\n _Fengo_, the Tyrant\u2019s Ashes scattered by the Winds, 51.\n _Fire_ an Emblem of the Soul, 331.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 of Life eternal, 332.\n \u2014\u2014 thought by the _Persians_ to be a _God_, 239.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 by the _Egyptians_ a _living creature_, ib.\n Following the Corps, 82.\n To become Food to Birds and Beasts, a Curse, 39, 40.\n _French_, why they deny\u2019d Burial, 25.\n _Funeral_, why so called, 73.\n \u2014\u2014 Rites, why called _Justa Funebria_, 34.\n \u2014\u2014 Oration spoke before Battel, 43.\n \u2014\u2014 Procession, 282.\n _Funus odoratum_, 289.\n _Furca_, or a Gibbet: All such as were hanged thereon, were by the Laws\n    deny\u2019d Burial, 48.\n _Gabbares_, 240.\n _Gemelhazar_, 234.\n _Gauls embalmed_ with Oil of _Cedar_, 274.\n _Generals_ put to Death for neglecting to Bury the Dead, 42.\n _Gentiles_, assign\u2019d the Care of _Funerals_ to certain _Gods_, 35.\n _Geometry_, how invented, 231.\n _Gibnehalon_, 163.\n =Gotsacker=, 17.\n _Granaries_ of _Joseph_, 204.\n _Graves_ in the Highway, or under the Gallows, 49.\n To be dug out of one\u2019s Grave, a Curse and Punishment, 50.\n _Greeks_ deny\u2019d decent Burial to infamous Persons and Criminals, 47.\n _Gulph_ of _Mecca_, or _Arabian Gulph_, 140.\n _Gymnasium_, what it signifies, 171.\n _Gymnastic Art_, ib.\n _Hannibal_ took great care of _Burial_, 42.\n _Hatching_ of Chickens at _Grand Cairo_, 207.\n _Halmirhaga_, 258.\n _Heliogabalus_\u2019s Body dragg\u2019d about Streets, and flung into a\n    Common-shoar, 51.\n _Henry_ the Seventh\u2019s Chappel, 87.\n _Hermes Trismegistus_, 173.\n \u2014\u2014 supposed to be _Armais_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 a great _Philosopher_, _Priest_ and _King_, ibid.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 establisher of _Magic_, 174.\n _Herodotus_\u2019s Account of the _Egyptian_ Funerals, 241.\n _Hieroglyphic_ Characters, 290.\n \u2014\u2014 their signification, 293.\n _Highwaymen_ deny\u2019d _Burial_, and set up on Wheels, _&c._ 48.\n _Homer_\u2019s Opinion of Sepulture, 35.\n _Horace_\u2019s Monument, 116.\n _Ichnography_ and _Schenography_ of the _Burial Places_, 203.\n _Jews_ deriv\u2019d their Manner of _Embalming_ from the _Egyptians_, 61.\n _Jewish Embalming_ rather a Ceremony than Preserving a Corps, 62.\n _Injectio Gleb\u00e6_, 92.\n _Insects_, which take Care of their Dead, 26.\n \u2014\u2014 how they bury themselves, 28.\n \u2014\u2014 some burn\u2019d and others _embalm\u2019d_, 29.\n _Insepulta sepultura_, 38.\n _Interment_, the first Cause of it, 8.\n _Josiah_ took Bones out of their Sepulchers and burnt them, 50.\n _Isis_ taught the _Egyptians_ salubrious Plants, 168.\n \u2014\u2014 the Inventor of _Images_, 170.\n Isle of _Pharos_, 220.\n _Judging_ the _Dead_, 244, 302.\n \u039a\u0395\u039d\u039f\u03a4\u1fbb\u03a6\u0399\u039f\u039d, 97.\n _Khalis_ of _Cleopatra_, 220.\n _Kissing_ the Dead, 54.\n \u2014\u2014 to what end used, _ib. &_ 55.\n \u2014\u2014 rather prejudicial than otherwise, 55.\n \u039a\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u1f75\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, 17.\n _Korah_, _Dathan_, and _Abiran_, buried alive, 49.\n _Labyrinth_, 222.\n \u2014\u2014 by whom and to what end built, 223, 224.\n _Lake M\u0153ris_, 141.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 why so called, 142.\n _Lamps_ perpetual, to what end invented, 331, 343.\n \u2014\u2014 supposed to have burnt in the first _Pyramid_, 333.\n \u2014\u2014 in subterranean Caves and Vaults, 96, 333.\n \u2014\u2014 that have burn\u2019d by a Divine Power, 351.\n \u2014\u2014 that have burn\u2019d by the Wiles of the _Devil_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 or from a natural Cause, 352.\n \u2014\u2014 or can be made with _Gold_, _Silver_, &c. 353.\n \u2014\u2014 or _Mercury_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 with _Naptha_, 355.\n \u2014\u2014 with liquid _Bitumen_, or _Petroleum_, 356.\n \u2014\u2014 confirm\u2019d by _Schiangia_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 and believed by _Kircher_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 whether their Perpetuity proceeded from the Oil or Wick, 363.\n \u2014\u2014 thought to be a sort of _Phosphorus_, 365.\n \u2014\u2014 how made according to _Licetus_\u2019s Opinion, 366.\n \u2014\u2014 _Hieroglyphics_, or _Symbols_ of the Immortality of the _Soul_, 367.\n _Lamp_ of the _Alexandrian Pharos_, 337.\n \u2014\u2014 with a Dog\u2019s Head, 340.\n \u2014\u2014 found at _Edessa_, 351.\n \u2014\u2014 of a _Heliotrope_, 336.\n \u2014\u2014 of _Jupiter Ammon_, 350.\n \u2014\u2014 with four Lights, 339.\n \u2014\u2014 of _Minerva_, 350.\n \u2014\u2014 of _Mycerinus_, 341.\n \u2014\u2014 with an _Ox_\u2019s Head, 340.\n \u2014\u2014 of an _Ox_ with a _Boy_ on his Back, 337.\n \u2014\u2014 of _Olybius_, 351.\n \u2014\u2014 with two beaked Ships, 339.\n \u2014\u2014 of a tripple-headed Monster, 334.\n _Languages_ and _Characters_ of the _Egyptians_ of two kinds, 291.\n _Lapis Asbestos_, 357.\n \u2014\u2014 _Amiantus_, 360.\n \u2014\u2014 _Cyprius_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 _Carystius_, 361.\n _Laws_, their Goodness, 234.\n \u2014\u2014 made to restrain the Extravagancy of Funeral Ceremonies, 73, 79.\n _Laying out a Corps_, 70.\n \u2014\u2014 why used, 71.\n _Lazarus_ embalmed, 62.\n _Lectic\u00e6 seu Lecti_, 74.\n _Letter_ to _Charles Bernard_, Esq; 1.\n \u2014\u2014 to Dr. _John Lawson_, 123.\n \u2014\u2014 to Dr. _Hans Sloan_, 307.\n _Libitina_, 286.\n _Libitinarii_, ib. & 340.\n _Library_ of _Ptolomy_, 185, 216.\n _Linum vivum_, 358.\n \u2014\u2014 _Carpasium_, 361.\n \u2014\u2014 _Creticum_, 362.\n _Lodgings_ of the _Priests_, 320.\n _Lucretius_, his Opinion of Sepulture, 24.\n _Lues Venerea_, its supposed Origin, 14.\n _Machpelah_, _Abraham_\u2019s Burying-place, 8.\n _Magical Medicine_ spread over most Countries, 175.\n _Magic_ used in _Embalming_, 176.\n _Magnesia_, 362.\n _Maltem_, 155.\n _Man_, the Epitome and Perfection of the Macrocosm, 4.\n \u2014\u2014 his Elogium, 108.\n \u2014\u2014 his Transgression, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 has a right to a Burial-place in the Earth, 7.\n _Manes_, Gods of Funerals, 35.\n _Mare mortuum_, 143.\n _Caius Marius_\u2019s, Bones dug up and flung into the Sea, 50.\n _Matarea_, 208.\n _Mathematics_, 191.\n _Medicines_, why call\u2019d _Pharmaca_, 175.\n _Memphis_, 199.\n _Memphitis Lapis_, 187.\n _Memnon_\u2019s Statue, 192.\n _Mercury_ II., 173.\n _Metempsychosis_, 238.\n _Milesian_ Virgins, how deterr\u2019d from hanging themselves, 48.\n _Mina_, what, 197.\n _Monuments_ built during Life, 86, 87.\n \u2014\u2014 why call\u2019d Muniments, 99.\n \u2014\u2014 why Monuments, 100.\n \u2014\u2014 made of Glass, 101.\n \u2014\u2014 the Manner of it, 77.\n \u2014\u2014 with Sackcloth and Ashes, 78.\n \u2014\u2014 cutting and tearing the Flesh, _ib._\n _Mourners_ feigned, 78.\n _Mouth_ of the Dead, why shut, 57.\n _Mummies_ found in the Sands, 152.\n \u2014\u2014 several things found included in them, 297.\n \u2014\u2014 Sophisticate, 279.\n _Murderers_ denied Burial, 47, 48.\n _Nature_ has provided Burial and a _Grave_ for all Creatures, 30.\n \u039d\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u1f79\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2, 279, 286.\n _Nicias_ took great care to bury the slain, 43.\n _Nicodemus_ and _Joseph_ _embalm\u2019d_ our Saviour, 62.\n _Nile_ River, 127.\n \u2014\u2014 its Rise and Course, 129.\n \u2014\u2014 its Cataracts, 130.\n \u2014\u2014 its _Ostia_, or Mouths, 132.\n \u2014\u2014 its Inundation, 132.\n \u2014\u2014 time of its Increase, 133.\n \u2014\u2014 its Effects, 134.\n \u2014\u2014 Cause of its Fertility, 135.\n \u2014\u2014 of its Increase, 136.\n \u2014\u2014 Operation of its Waters, 137.\n _Ninus_\u2019s Sepulchre, 225.\n _Nitrum Chalastr\u00e6um_, 257, 263.\n \u2014\u2014 _Chalastricum_, 264.\n \u2014\u2014 _Berenicum_, 257.\n _Nitre Armenian_, 258.\n \u2014\u2014 _Egyptian_, 264.\n \u2014\u2014 of _Turkey_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 three kinds, 260.\n \u2014\u2014 different Opinions of it, 266.\n \u2014\u2014 that of the Ancients the same with our _Salt Petre_, 268.\n \u2014\u2014 used in Cookery, 269.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 in _Embalming_, 255.\n _Nomi septem_, 127.\n _Obelisk_ of _Semiramis_, 191, 228.\n \u2014\u2014 two at _Alexandria_, 214.\n _Observations_ on the _Nile_, 135.\n \u2014\u2014 on the _Pyramids_, 322.\n \u2014\u2014 on the subterranean Caves, 327.\n _Office_ of _Embalming_, 279.\n _Opobalsamum_, 210.\n _Osiris_ taught the _Egyptians_ Food and Drink, 168.\n _Orus_, Son of _Osiris_, apply\u2019d for _Physic_, salubrious Plants, by\n    sacrificing them, 168.\n \u2014\u2014 to which he added _Music_, 169.\n \u2014\u2014 and Poetry, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 thence thought to be the _Egyptian Apollo_, ib.\n _Ossilegium_, 84.\n _Osymandua_\u2019s _Tomb_, 195.\n _Ovid_ afraid of _Sea-Burial_, 46.\n _Ointment_ of Children\u2019s Fat used by Witches, 14.\n \u2014\u2014 of Spikenard, 62.\n _Pagans_ not without some hopes of the Resurrection, 24, 112.\n _Painting_ of the Dead used in _France_ and _Italy_, 74.\n _Pall_, why used, _ib._\n _Palace_ of _Cleopatra_, 214.\n \u2014\u2014 of the _Mamaluke Sultans_, 206.\n _Pallium_ used by the _Greeks_ to cover their Dead, 65.\n _Pant\u00e6nus_, first Reader of _Divinity_ and _Philosophy_, 215.\n _Patriarchs_, where buried, 8.\n _Pawning_ the Dead, 246, 303.\n _Pensil Gardens_, 227.\n _Pentapolis_, 144.\n _Persians_, how they _Embalm_, 63.\n _Persons_ present at Funerals, 74.\n \u2014\u2014 how qualify\u2019d for _Embalming_, 177.\n _Pharaoh_\u2019s Punishment, 12.\n _Pharos_, or Watch-Tower, 221.\n _Philosophers_ contemplated on Life and Death, 7.\n \u2014\u2014 in what sense they slighted Burial, 23.\n _Phosphorus_, 365.\n _Physic_, how found out, 232.\n _Physician_, 280.\n _Piaster_, what, 329.\n _Pickle_ made of _Nitre_, 266.\n _Pissasphalt_ natural, 276.\n \u2014\u2014 artificial, 278.\n \u2014\u2014 natural, call\u2019d _Mummy_, 277.\n _Plague_, 165.\n \u2014\u2014 ceases at the Inundation of the _Nile_, 134, 135, 166.\n _Plain_ of _Mummies_, 329, 330.\n _Plato_ defines the Scope and End of his _Philosophy_, to be only the\n    Consideration of Death, 8.\n _Pluto_, the chief of the _Funeral Gods_, 35.\n _Polliacus_ erected a Tomb in Memory of his beloved Bitch, 30.\n _Polycharacteristic_ Statues, 299.\n _Pollinctor_, 177, 285.\n _Poisons_ made of Man\u2019s Flesh, 14.\n _Pox_, (French) 165.\n \u2014\u2014 Small, _ib._\n _Pompey_\u2019s Pillar, 212.\n \u2014\u2014 by whom built, 213.\n _Pr\u00e6fic\u00e6_, hired _Mourners_, 76.\n _Priests_, the proper and only _Physicians_, 172, 177.\n \u2014\u2014 their Business, 188.\n _Problem_ concerning _Diet_, 162.\n _Procession_ of a _Funeral_, 76.\n _Providence_ of _God_ extends even to the Bodies of the Dead, 33.\n _Prophylactic_ Statues, 298.\n _Psalms_ and _Hymns_ when introduc\u2019d, 76.\n _Ptolomean Library_, 216.\n _Puticul\u00e6_, 88.\n _Putrifaction_, its pernicious Effects, 11, 12, 13.\n _Pyramids_, 311.\n \u2014\u2014 why so call\u2019d, 331.\n \u2014\u2014 to what end built, 237, 309.\n \u2014\u2014 why of a pyramidal Form, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 their Number, 310.\n \u2014\u2014 Scituation, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 their _Founders_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 Description of the first, 312.\n \u2014\u2014 the _Entrance_ into it, 313.\n \u2014\u2014 first and second _Gallery_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 strange Eccho, 315.\n \u2014\u2014 fine _Gallery_, 316.\n \u2014\u2014 two _Anti-Closets_, 317.\n \u2014\u2014 spacious _Chamber_, 318.\n \u2014\u2014 _Cheop_\u2019s Tomb, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 how many Men employ\u2019d in building it, 319.\n _Pyramid_ the second, 319.\n \u2014\u2014 its Lodgings for the Priests, 320.\n \u2014\u2014 the third, _ib._\n _Quacks_, who, 177.\n \u2014\u2014 none in _Egypt_, 178.\n _Quietorium_ seu _Requietorium_, 100.\n _Rains_ in _Egypt_, 147, 155.\n _Reflections_ on the _Egyptian Embalming_, 246.\n _Resurrection_, the Hope of it the chief Cause of _Burial_, 18.\n _Right_ of _Burial_ and _Funeral Ceremonies_, 5.\n \u2014\u2014 grounded on the _Law_ of _God_ and _Nature_, 25.\n _Roulers_, how prepar\u2019d, 289.\n _Rudder_ of a _Ship_, how first invented, 230.\n _Sacara_, how the Inhabitants get their Livelyhood, 325.\n _Sacrifices_ to the _Dead_, 84.\n _Sacrilegious_ Persons deny\u2019d Burial, 47.\n _Sand_, how useful in _Embalming_, 151.\n _Sandapilarii_, 74.\n _Salt_ made of the _Nile_ Waters, 139, 220.\n \u2014\u2014 used with _Balsamics_ preserves Bodies, 270.\n _Salitores_, _Salters_, or _Pollinctors_, 254, 285.\n _Sarah_, where buried, 8.\n _Scabs_ and _Leprosie_ of _Egypt_, 164.\n _Scipio_ afraid of Sea-Burial, 45.\n _Scribe_, or _Designer_, 250.\n _Scroles_ painted with Characters, 296.\n _Scythians_, how they _Embalm_, 63.\n _Sea-Burial_, why feared by the _Ancients_, 46.\n _Searchers_, their Office, 71.\n _Seasons_ of the _Year_, 153.\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 temperate, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014 intemperate, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 why to be observ\u2019d in _Embalming_, 156.\n _Seminatio_, 17.\n _Septuagint_, 216.\n _Serapis_, or _Apis_, the _Egyptian \u00c6sculapius_, 172.\n _Serapes_, 298.\n \u2014\u2014 their Forms and Actions, 299.\n \u2014\u2014 their Use and Virtues, 301.\n _Sepulchres_, why call\u2019d _Requietoria_, 47.\n \u2014\u2014 some proper, 94.\n \u2014\u2014 common, 95.\n \u2014\u2014 belonging to the Family, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 hereditary, _ib._\n _Sepulchre_, call\u2019d by the _Egyptians_ _Domus \u00e6terna_, 101.\n \u2014\u2014 why call\u2019d eternal Houses, 305.\n \u2014\u2014 of _Mycerinus_\u2019s Daughter, _ib._\n \u2014\u2014 of _Alexander_, 217.\n \u2014\u2014 of the _Egyptian_ Kings, 194.\n _Sepulture_ rightly accounted _Jus Natur\u00e6_, 5.\n \u2014\u2014 a Debt to _Nature_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 ordain\u2019d by _God_ himself, 5.\n \u2014\u2014 practis\u2019d by the _Heathens_, 6.\n \u2014\u2014 asserted in the _Scriptures_, 7.\n \u2014\u2014 confirm\u2019d by the _Philosophers_ and _Poets_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 instituted in obedience to the Love of _God_ and _Nature_, 8.\n \u2014\u2014 defends from the _Plague_, 15.\n \u2014\u2014 and preserves _Bodies_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 why invented, 16.\n \u2014\u2014 strictly observed in War, 42.\n \u2014\u2014 yet deny\u2019d some out of Revenge, 41.\n \u2014\u2014 always esteem\u2019d honourable among _God_\u2019s People, 85.\n _Sesostris_\u2019s Cedar _Ship_, 183.\n _Ships_ of _Arabia_, 207.\n _Silk-worm_, spins her own Winding-sheet, 29.\n _Situation_ of the Dead in their _Sepulchres_, 85, 86.\n _Smell_ of a _Goal_ very pernicious, 14.\n _Snow_ in _Egypt_, 149.\n _Somia_, the Burial-place of the _Ptolomies_, 217.\n _Sorceresses_ feed on Man\u2019s Flesh, 14.\n _Sore Eyes_ and _Blindness_ of the _Egyptians_, 163.\n _Soul_ concern\u2019d at the ill Usage of the _Body_, 104, 105.\n _Sounding_ of Brazen Vessels about the Dead, 57.\n _Sphinx_, 321.\n \u2014\u2014 represents _Momphta_, 322.\n _Stoics_, value not the Corruption of the Body, 20.\n _Stonehenge_ the Sepulchre of the _Britains_, 91.\n _Stones_ heap\u2019d over a Body, an ignominious sort of Burial, 51, 52.\n _Summer_ of _Egypt_, 154.\n _Subterranean Caves_, 202, 324.\n _Surgery_ the chief of _Arts_, 1.\n \u2014\u2014 invented and improved in _Egypt_, 187.\n \u2014\u2014 how useful in _Embalming_, 188.\n \u2014\u2014 teaches the _Art_ of _Bandage_, ib.\n _Surgeon_, the chief _Embalmer_, 188, 283.\n \u2014\u2014 his Business, 284.\n _Sylla_ the _Dictator_, order\u2019d his own _Corps_ to be burnt, that he\n    might not be ill treated by his Enemies, 50, 83.\n _Taricheut\u00e6_, 254, 285.\n \u03a4\u1f71\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2, 293.\n \u03a4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03b5\u1f7b\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, 254.\n _Templi Hortus_, 17.\n _Temple_ of _Belus_, 226.\n _Teneriff_, the _Inhabitants_ Manner of _Sepulture_ and _Embalming_,\n _Thebais_, 127.\n _Thebes_, 193.\n \u0398\u03b5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b9\u03ba\u1f74 \u03c4\u1f73\u03c7\u03bd\u03b7, 171.\n _Theology_ of the _Egyptians_, 238.\n \u0398\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u1f7b\u03c9, its signification, 175.\n _Thrum-stone_, 361.\n _Thunder_ seldom heard in _Egypt_, 156.\n _Time_ of carrying forth the _Corps_, 72.\n _Tincar_, 261.\n _Tobit_\u2019s great Care in burying the Dead, 33.\n _Toga_ us\u2019d by the _Romans_ to cloath their Dead with, 65.\n _Tombs_ erected for Horses, and honoured with _Epitaphs_, 30.\n \u2014\u2014 why dedicated _Diis Manibus_, 35.\n _Tomb_ of a _Dog_ at _Rome_, 30.\n \u2014\u2014 of King _Amasis_, 321.\n _Tombs_, their Use and Benefit, 98.\n \u2014\u2014 how adorn\u2019d, and with what Inscriptions, 99.\n \u2014\u2014 why call\u2019d _Tumulus_, 92, 99.\n \u2014\u2014 _inanis, seu Tumulus sine Corpore_, 97.\n _Traitors_ deny\u2019d _Burial_, 47, 48, 49.\n _Vespillones_, why so called, 73.\n \u2014\u2014 their Office, 74.\n _Vestal Virgins_, how buried, 50.\n _Vitellius_\u2019s Body cut in pieces, and flung into the _Tyber_, 51.\n _Unguentum Cedrinum_, 287.\n \u1f59\u03a0\u1ff9\u0393\u0395\u0399\u039f\u039d, 96.\n _Urns_ of _Glass_ found at _Nismes_, ib.\n _Wall_ built by _Sesostris_, 224.\n _Washing_ a Corps, why used, 60.\n \u2014\u2014 why with warm Water, 59.\n \u2014\u2014 why with Salt, _ib._\n _Water_ of _Nile_ very prolific, 236.\n _Weeping_, if moderate, commendable, 79.\n \u2014\u2014 us\u2019d by _Kings_ and _Patriarchs_, ib.\n \u2014\u2014 by our _Saviour_, 80.\n \u2014\u2014 allays Grief, 81.\n _Wells_ of _embalmed_ Birds, 328.\n A Virgin _Well_, 329.\n _Wiek_ and _Oil_, both in a _Lamp_, 364.\n _Winds_ which blow most in _Egypt_, 155.\n _Winter_ in _Egypt_, 154.\n _Workmen_, what Number imploy\u2019d in building the first _Pyramid_, 319.\n _Writings_ thought the best Monument, 116.\n _Xantippus_ buried his Dogs, 30.\n \u03a7\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u1f77\u03b1, 183.\n _Xylobalsamum_, 210.\n _Zeilan_, Inhabitants their Manner of _Sepulture_, 113.\n 1. The Table of Contents was added by transcriber.\n 2. Made corrections listed in the ERRATA.\n 3. Ph\u00e6nician was consistently used instead of Ph\u0153nician.\n 4. Changed \u201c\u1f10\u03c5\u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u03b5\u1f50\u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u201d in the Amico heading.\n 5. Changed \u201c\u0395 \u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u2019 \u1f20\u03b4\u03b7\u201d to \u201c\u0395\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u2019 \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7\u201d, \u1f49\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03b4\u2019 \u1f13\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u1f4d\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03b4\u2019\n      \u1f15\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u201d, \u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03b8\u2019\u201d to \u201c\u1f18\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03b8\u2019\u201d, and \u201c\u1f29 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u1f29\u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u201d on\n 6. Changed \u201c\u03c4\u1f79\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\u201d on p. 9.\n 7. Changed \u201c\u05d1\u05d9\u05ea \u05d4\u05d9\u05d9\u05de\u201d to \u201c\u05d1\u05d9\u05ea \u05d7\u05d9\u05d9\u05dd\u201d on p. 17.\n 8. Changed \u201cM\u00e6nibus\u201d to \u201cM\u0153nibus\u201d on p. 46.\n 9. Changed \u201cinsicerentur\u201d to \u201cinficerentur\u201d on p. 89.\n10. Changed \u201c\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9\u201d to \u201c\u03ba\u03c1\u1f7b\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9\u201d on p. 96.\n11. Changed \u201c\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2\u201d to \u201c\u03c4\u1f71\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2\u201d and \u201c\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f77\u201d to \u201c\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76\u201don p. 97.\n12. Changed \u201cSynonimous\u201d to \u201cSynonymous\u201d on p. 100.\n13. Changed \u201c\u1f08\u03b9\u03b3\u1f7b\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\u201d to \u201c\u0391\u1f30\u03b3\u1f7b\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\u201d on p. 126.\n14. Changed \u201cout of the of midst\u201d to \u201cout of the midst\u201d on p. 144.\n15. Changed \u201c\u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03c7\u1ff6\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f79\u03c4\u03b5, \u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5, \u1f04\u03bd\u03c9\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u1f77\n      \u03c4\u1f71\u03c2 \u1f04\u03c1\u03bf\u1f7b\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f55\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1 \u1f10\u03c0\u1f77\u03c1\u1fe5\u03b5\u1fd6\u201d to \u201c\u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c7\u1f7d\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f79\u03c4\u03b5,\n      \u03bf\u1f54\u03c4\u03b5 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5, \u1f04\u03bd\u03c9\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c1\u03bf\u1f7b\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f55\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u1fe4\u1fe5\u03b5\u1fd6\u201d on p. 148.\n16. Changed \u201c\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b9\u03ba\u1f75\u201d to \u201c\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b9\u03ba\u1f74\u201d on p. 171.\n17. Changed \u201c\u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u1f77\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2\u201d to \u201c\u1f10\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2\u201d on p. 172.\n18. Changed \u201c\u1f19\u03c1\u03bc\u1f75\u03c2\u201d to \u201c\u1f19\u03c1\u03bc\u1fc6\u03c2\u201d on p. 173.\n19. Changed \u201c\u03c4\u1f79\u201d to \u201c\u03c4\u1f78\u201d on p. 174.\n20. Changed \u201c\u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03bf\u1f77\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03bf\u1f77\u03b4\u1f77\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03b5\u1f77\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u1f75\u03bd\u201d on p. 176.\n21. Changed \u201c\u03c7\u03c1\u1f7b\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6\u201d to \u201c\u03c7\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6\u201d on p. 183.\n22. Changed \u201ceondem\u201d to \u201ceadem\u201d on p. 183.\n23. Changed \u201costiosa\u201d to \u201cotiosa\u201d on p. 183.\n24. Changed \u201c\u03bf\u03c1\u03b3\u1f71\u03bd\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u1f00\u03bc\u1f77\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u1f40\u03c1\u03b3\u1f71\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u1f77\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd\u201d on p. 186.\n25. Changed \u201c\u0391\u03bb\u03bb\u1f71\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2\u201d to \u201c\u1f08\u03bb\u03bb\u1f71\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2\u201d on p. 187.\n26. Changed \u201c\u1f14\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1f75\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u1f10\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u1f75\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\u201d on p. 216.\n27. Changed \u201c\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2\u201d to \u201c\u03c4\u1f71\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2\u201d on p. 239.\n28. Changed \u201c\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u1f73\u03c5\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03b5\u1f7b\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u201d on p. 254.\n29. Changed \u201c\u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f79\u03c2 \u03bd\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u201d to \u201c\u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03bd\u1f77\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u201d and \u201c\u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u1f77\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u201d to\n      \u201c\u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f79\u03bd\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u201d on p. 260.\n30. Changed \u201c\u1f0c\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf \u03bd\u1f77\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u1f08\u03c6\u03c1\u1f79\u03bd\u03b9\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u201d on p. 262.\n31. Changed \u201c\u1f08\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\u201d to \u201c\u1f0c\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\u201d on p. 357.\n32. Changed \u201c\u1f08\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u201d to \u201c\u1f0c\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u201d on p. 358.\n33. Changed \u201cqnod\u201d to \u201cquod\u201d on p. 358.\n34. Changed \u201cBechira feu Bechiria\u201d to \u201cBechira seu Bechiria\u201d on the 2nd\n      page of the TABLE.\n35. Silently corrected typographical errors.\n36. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.\n37. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.\n38. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.\n39. Superscripts are denoted by a caret before a single superscript\n      character or a series of superscripted characters enclosed in\n      curly braces, e.g. M^r. or M^{ister}.\n40. Subscripts are denoted by an underscore before a series of\n      subscripted characters enclosed in curly braces, e.g. H_{2}O.\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of \u039d\u0395\u039a\u03a1\u039f\u039a\u0397\u0394\u0395\u0399\u0391, by Thomas Greenhill\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK \u039d\u0395\u039a\u03a1\u039f\u039a\u0397\u0394\u0395\u0399\u0391 ***\n***** This file should be named 57829-0.txt or 57829-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\nwill be renamed.\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " German\n", "content": "Anmerkungen zur Transkription\n    Das Original ist in Fraktur gesetzt. Im Original gesperrter Text\n    ist _so ausgezeichnet_. Im Original in Antiqua gesetzter Text ist\n    ~so markiert~.\n    Weitere Anmerkungen zur Transkription befinden sich am Ende des\n    Buches.\n    Daniel Defoe\n    Die Pest zu London\n[Illustration]\n    Daniel Defoe\n    Die Pest zu London\n    M\u00fcnchen bei Georg M\u00fcller\n\u00dcbersetzt von Heinrich Steinitzer\n    Copyright 1925 by Georg M\u00fcller Verlag\n    A.-G., M\u00fcnchen / Printed in Germany\nEs war 1664, um den Anfang des September, als ich gespr\u00e4chsweise von\nmeinen Nachbarn h\u00f6rte, da\u00df die Pest in Holland von neuem ausgebrochen\nw\u00e4re. Sie war dort im vorhergehenden Jahre sehr heftig aufgetreten,\nbesonders in Amsterdam und Rotterdam, wohin sie nach einigen aus\nItalien, nach andern aus der Levante mit Waren, die die t\u00fcrkische\nFlotte heimgebracht hatte, eingeschleppt worden war. Noch andere\nbehaupteten, sie w\u00e4re von Kandia oder Zypern gekommen. Nun, woher sie\nkam, wollte wenig bedeuten, aber darin, da\u00df sie wieder nach Holland\ngekommen war, stimmten alle \u00fcberein.\nDamals gab es bei uns noch keine gedruckten Zeitungen, um Ger\u00fcchte\nund Neuigkeiten zu verbreiten, die dann durch die Phantasie der\nLeute weiter ausgeschm\u00fcckt wurden, wie es nach meiner Erfahrung\nseither der Brauch geworden ist. Neuigkeiten erfuhr man durch die\nausw\u00e4rtigen Korrespondenzen der Kaufleute; sie verbreiteten sich dann\nauf m\u00fcndlichem Wege weiter, aber nat\u00fcrlich nicht gleich \u00fcber das\nganze Land, wie es jetzt der Fall ist. Trotzdem scheint die Regierung\nganz genau unterrichtet gewesen zu sein. Sie hielt mehrere Sitzungen\nab, um \u00fcber die Mittel zu beraten, das Her\u00fcberkommen der Seuche zu\nverhindern, aber dies alles wurde ganz heimlich betrieben. Daher\ngeriet das Ger\u00fccht allm\u00e4hlich wieder in Vergessenheit, und die Leute\nhielten daf\u00fcr, da\u00df es sie eigentlich nicht viel anging und hoffentlich\ngar nicht wahr w\u00e4re. Bis gegen Ende November oder Anfang Dezember\nzwei M\u00e4nner, angeblich Franzosen, in Longacre oder am obern Ende der\nDrurylane-Stra\u00dfe an der Pest starben. Die Leute, bei denen sie gewohnt\nhatten, versuchten es soweit als m\u00f6glich zu verheimlichen, da aber\ndurch das Geschw\u00e4tz der Nachbarschaft doch etwas herumgekommen war,\nerfuhren auch die Staatssekret\u00e4re davon. Sie lie\u00dfen es sich angelegen\nsein, Nachforschungen anzustellen, und schickten, um die genaue\nWahrheit zu erfahren, zwei \u00c4rzte und einen Wundarzt in das betreffende\nHaus zur Untersuchung. Da durch diese \u00fcberzeugende Merkmale der\nKrankheit bei beiden Leichen festgestellt wurden, gaben die \u00c4rzte ihr\nUrteil \u00f6ffentlich ab, da\u00df sie an der Pest gestorben waren. Dies ging\nan den Kirchspielschreiber weiter, der es dem Magistrat beh\u00e4ndigte. In\ndem w\u00f6chentlichen Sterblichkeitsregister wurde es dann in der \u00fcblichen\nWeise abgedruckt:\nPest: 2. Verseuchte Kirchspiele: 1.\nDie Leute wurden dar\u00fcber sehr best\u00fcrzt und gerieten in der ganzen Stadt\nin Aufregung, um so mehr, als in der letzten Dezemberwoche noch ein\nanderer Mann in demselben Hause und an der gleichen Seuche starb. Dann\naber h\u00f6rte man ungef\u00e4hr sechs Wochen nichts mehr, und als niemand mehr\nein Zeichen der Ansteckung zeigte, hielt man daf\u00fcr, da\u00df die Seuche\nerloschen w\u00e4re. Aber darauf, ich glaube um den 12. Februar herum, starb\nnoch ein Mann in einem andern Hause, aber in dem gleichen Kirchspiel\nund unter denselben Anzeichen.\nNun richtete sich das Augenmerk aller nach jenem Teile der Stadt,\nund da die w\u00f6chentlichen Register eine st\u00e4rkere als die gew\u00f6hnliche\nSterblichkeit in dem Kirchspiel von St. Giles anzeigten, begann sich\nder Verdacht zu regen, da\u00df die Pest unter der Bev\u00f6lkerung an diesem\nEnde der Stadt herrsche, und da\u00df schon viele daran gestorben w\u00e4ren,\nwenn man auch Sorge getragen h\u00e4tte, die \u00d6ffentlichkeit dar\u00fcber so\nviel als m\u00f6glich im unklaren zu lassen. Dieser Glaube setzte sich in\nden K\u00f6pfen der Leute fest, und nur wenige trauten sich noch, durch\nDrurylane oder eine der andern verd\u00e4chtigen Stra\u00dfen zu gehen, wenn sie\nnicht durch besondere Gesch\u00e4fte dazu gezwungen wurden.\nMit der Zunahme in den Sterblichkeitsregistern stand es folgenderma\u00dfen:\ndie w\u00f6chentliche Durchschnittszahl betrug in den Kirchspielen von St.\nGiles in the Fields, und St. Andrew, Holborn, von 12 zu 17 oder 19 in\njedem, wenig darunter oder dar\u00fcber. Aber von dem ersten Auftreten der\nPest an im Kirchspiel von St. Giles stieg sie ganz erheblich, bis auf\n23 und 24, ja 25 im Kirchspiel von St. Andrew.\nEine gleiche Zunahme machte sich in den Kirchspielen von St. Bride\nbemerkbar, die einerseits an das Kirchspiel von Holborn und das von St.\nJames, andererseits an das weitere Ende von Holborn grenzen. In diesen\nbeiden Kirchspielen betrug die Durchschnittssterblichkeit von 4 zu 6\nund 8 in der Woche, w\u00e4hrend sie nun auf 12 und 13 stieg.\nAu\u00dferdem geriet das Volk in gro\u00dfe Unruhe durch die Beobachtung, da\u00df die\nw\u00f6chentliche Sterblichkeit ganz im allgemeinen stark zunahm, und das zu\neiner Jahreszeit, da sie gew\u00f6hnlich recht m\u00e4\u00dfig war.\nDie w\u00f6chentliche Durchschnittssterblichkeit belief sich auf etwa 240\nbis zu 300. Letztere Zahl mu\u00dfte schon als hoch gerechnet werden. Jetzt\naber zeigten die Register st\u00e4ndig bei weitem h\u00f6here Zahlen, von 291\nin der letzten Dezemberwoche bis zu 474 in der Woche vom 17. bis 24.\nJanuar.\nDiese Zahl war wirklich erschreckend und h\u00f6her als irgendeine seit dem\nletzten Auftreten der Seuche im Jahre 1656.\nDoch dies alles ging wieder vor\u00fcber. Das Wetter war kalt, und der\nFrost, der im Dezember begonnen hatte, hielt sich sehr streng bis\ngegen Ende Februar bei schneidendem, wenn auch nicht heftigem Winde.\nDie Sterblichkeitsquote ging von neuem herunter, und man hielt die\nGefahr f\u00fcr so gut als vorbei. Nur in St. Giles blieb die Sterblichkeit\nandauernd hoch. Von Anfang April an stand sie auf 25 die Woche, stieg\ndann aber vom 18. bis 25. auf 30, davon 2 Todesf\u00e4lle an der Pest und 8\nam Fleckfieber, was nach der Ansicht der Leute ein und dasselbe war.\nSo stieg auch die allgemeine Sterblichkeit am Fleckfieber von 8 in der\nvorigen auf 12 in der eben erw\u00e4hnten Woche.\nDar\u00fcber gerieten wir von neuem in Best\u00fcrzung, und die Leute wurden von\nschrecklichen Vorahnungen erfa\u00dft, um so mehr, als das Wetter jetzt\numschlug und warm wurde, und der Sommer vor der T\u00fcre stand. Aber die\nn\u00e4chste Woche brachte neue Hoffnungen: die Sterblichkeitsrate war\nniedrig und lautete alles in allem nur auf 388, darunter kein Pestfall\nund nur 4 F\u00e4lle von Fleckfieber.\nAber die folgende Woche ging\u2019s wieder aufw\u00e4rts. Die Seuche verbreitete\nsich in 2 oder 3 andere Kirchspiele, n\u00e4mlich nach St. Andrew, Holborn\nund St. Clement-Danes, und zum au\u00dferordentlichen Schrecken der inneren\nStadt gab es auch einen Todesfall in der eigentlichen City, im\nKirchspiel von St. Mary-Wool-Church, d. h. in der Bearbinder-Stra\u00dfe,\nnahe am Stocks-Markt. Im ganzen starben 9 an der Pest und 6 am\nFleckfieber. Allerdings ergab die Untersuchung, da\u00df der Franzose,\nder in der Bearbinder-Stra\u00dfe gestorben war, fr\u00fcher in Longacre, in\nder N\u00e4he der verseuchten H\u00e4user gewohnt hatte und aus Furcht vor der\nSeuche umgezogen war, ohne eine Ahnung davon zu haben, da\u00df er bereits\nangesteckt war.\nEs war nun schon Anfang Mai, doch das Wetter war ver\u00e4nderlich und\nziemlich k\u00fchl, und so hatten die Leute noch immer etwas Hoffnung. Was\nsie besonders ermutigte, war, da\u00df die innere Stadt frei blieb. Von\nihren 97 Kirchspielen gab es nur in 54 Todesf\u00e4lle, und wir trugen uns\nmit der Hoffnung, da\u00df die Seuche sich haupts\u00e4chlich auf die Bev\u00f6lkerung\nan jenem Ende der Stadt beschr\u00e4nken m\u00f6chte und nicht weitergehen w\u00fcrde.\nBesonders auch, weil die n\u00e4chste Woche, vom 9. bis 16. Mai, nur 3\nTodesf\u00e4lle brachte, davon keinen innerhalb der inneren Stadtbezirke.\nAuch in St. Andrew starben nur 15, eine sehr niedrige Zahl. In St.\nGiles freilich gab es 32 Todesf\u00e4lle, aber nur einen an der Pest, so da\u00df\ndas Volk sich wieder beruhigte. Auch die Gesamtsterblichkeitsquote war\nsehr gering, 343 zu 347 in der vorangehenden Woche.\nEinige Tage hielten unsere Hoffnungen an, aber nur einige Tage. Denn\ndas Volk lie\u00df sich nun nicht mehr t\u00e4uschen. Man durchsuchte die\nH\u00e4user und sah, da\u00df die Pest wirklich \u00fcberallhin gekommen war, und\nda\u00df sie t\u00e4glich eine Menge Opfer forderte. So war\u2019s nun mit allen\nBesch\u00f6nigungen zu Ende und konnte nicht mehr verheimlicht werden. Mit\neinem Schlage zeigte sich, da\u00df die Ansteckung sich nach allen Seiten\nverbreitet hatte und allen Hoffnungen, sie einzud\u00e4mmen, spottete.\nIm Kirchspiel von St. Giles war die Seuche schon in mehrere Stra\u00dfen\ngedrungen und ganze Familien lagen an ihr danieder. Demgem\u00e4\u00df war denn\nauch die Sterblichkeitsziffer der n\u00e4chsten Woche. Zwar wurden nur 16\nTodesf\u00e4lle an der Pest festgestellt, aber das war alles ausgemachter\nSchwindel. In St. Giles starben alles in allem 40, davon die meisten\nohne jeden Zweifel an der Pest, obwohl sie unter andern Krankheiten\naufgef\u00fchrt wurden. Die Gesamtzahl der Sterbef\u00e4lle erreichte nur 385,\ndarunter jedoch 14 an der Pest und ebenso viele am Fleckfieber, und\nwir waren davon \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df in dieser Woche 50 von der Seuche\ndahingerafft worden waren.\nDas n\u00e4chste Register vom 23. zum 30. Mai brachte 17 Pestf\u00e4lle, aber in\nSt. Giles starben 53, eine erschreckende Zahl! Wenn man auch bei nur\n9 davon die Pest zugab, zeigte doch eine genauere Nachforschung, die\nauf Befehl des Lordmayors von den Friedensrichtern vorgenommen wurde,\nda\u00df in Wirklichkeit 20 mehr in diesem Kirchspiel an der Pest gestorben\nwaren, die man unter Fleckfieber und andere Krankheiten eingereiht oder\ngar ganz verschwiegen hatte.\nDoch dies waren Kleinigkeiten, verglichen mit dem, was gleich darauf\nfolgte. Denn nun setzte die Hitze ein, und von der ersten Juniwoche\nan verbreitete sich die Seuche in entsetzlicher Weise. Die Zahl der\nTodesf\u00e4lle schwoll an, wobei freilich oft Fieber und Fleckfieber als\nUrsachen angegeben wurden. Denn wer nur die Wahrheit verheimlichen\nkonnte, tat es, um nicht von den Bekannten und Nachbarn ge\u00e4chtet zu\nwerden und auch, um der Absperrung der H\u00e4user durch die Beh\u00f6rden zu\nentgehen, eine Ma\u00dfregel, die damals zwar noch nicht in Kraft war, aber\nangedroht wurde und schon in der blo\u00dfen Vorstellung die Leute mit dem\n\u00e4u\u00dfersten Entsetzen erf\u00fcllte.\nW\u00e4hrend der zweiten Juniwoche begrub man im Kirchspiel von St. Giles,\nwo der Herd der Verseuchung lag, 120, von denen dem Register nach nur\n68 an der Pest gestorben waren. Jeder sprach es aber offen aus, da\u00df\nes wenigstens 100 gewesen sein m\u00fc\u00dften, gemessen an der gew\u00f6hnlichen\nSterblichkeitsziffer.\nBis zu dieser Woche war die City frei geblieben, abgesehen von dem\nschon erw\u00e4hnten Franzosen. In all ihren 97 Kirchspielen war au\u00dfer ihm\nkein Mensch an der Pest gestorben. Jetzt gab es dort 4 Opfer, eins in\nder Wood-Stra\u00dfe, eins in der Fenchurch-Stra\u00dfe und zwei in der Krummen\nGasse. Southwark war noch ganz unber\u00fchrt, wie \u00fcberhaupt auf dem andern\nUfer noch niemand der Seuche erlegen war.\nIch selbst wohnte au\u00dferhalb Aldgate, etwa mittenwegs zwischen der\nAldgate-Kirche und den Whitechapeler Schlagb\u00e4umen, auf der linken oder\nn\u00f6rdlichen Seite der Stra\u00dfe. Da die Seuche diesen Teil der Stadt noch\nnicht erreicht hatte, waren wir recht beruhigt. Am andern Ende der\nStadt war aber die Best\u00fcrzung \u00fcberaus gro\u00df, und die wohlhabenderen\nLeute, besonders der Adel und die Vornehmen aus dem Westen, hasteten,\nmit ihren Familien und ihrer Dienerschaft aus der Stadt zu kommen.\nNoch auff\u00e4lliger war das in Whitechapel. In der breiten Stra\u00dfe, wo ich\nwohnte, war wirklich nichts zu sehen als Wagen und Karren, beladen mit\nHausger\u00e4te, Weibern, Dienstm\u00e4dchen, Kindern u. a. m., Kutschen voll von\nLeuten der besseren Klassen, Reiter, die sie begleiteten -- alles auf\nder Flucht. Dann erschienen wieder leere Wagen und Karren, Diener mit\nPferden, die anscheinend zur\u00fcckkamen oder noch weiteren Nachschub holen\nsollten. Dazwischen zahllose Leute zu Pferde, manche allein, andere mit\nBediensteten, alle mit Gep\u00e4ck beladen und f\u00fcr die Reise ausger\u00fcstet,\nwie aus ihrem Aussehen hervorging.\nDas war wohl ein trauriger und schauerlicher Anblick, den ich von\nMorgens bis zur Nacht vor Augen hatte (denn sonst war wirklich nichts\nMerkw\u00fcrdiges zu sehen), und der mich mit recht tr\u00fcben Vorahnungen des\nElends erf\u00fcllte, das \u00fcber die Stadt kommen w\u00fcrde, und des j\u00e4mmerlichen\nZustandes derjenigen, die zur\u00fcckblieben.\nDiese Flucht hielt einige Wochen hindurch in der gleichen St\u00e4rke\nan. Zur Wohnung des Lordmayors konnte man nur unter \u00e4u\u00dfersten\nSchwierigkeiten gelangen, so stauten und dr\u00e4ngten sich dort die\nMenschen, um P\u00e4sse und Gesundheitsbescheinigungen f\u00fcr die Weiterreise\nzu erhalten, denn ohne solche gab es keine Erlaubnis, die St\u00e4dte\nauf dem Wege zu passieren oder in einem Gasthause zu \u00fcbernachten.\nDa nun bisher noch niemand in der City, der eigentlichen inneren\nStadt, an der Seuche gestorben war, gab der Lordmayor ohne weiteres\nGesundheitsbescheinigungen an alle, die in den 97 Kirchspielen wohnten,\nund eine Weile auch an die Bev\u00f6lkerung der angrenzenden Distrikte.\nDiese Flucht dauerte, wie gesagt, einige Wochen, d. h. den ganzen Mai\nund Juni hindurch, besonders auch, weil das Ger\u00fccht von einer kommenden\nVerf\u00fcgung der Regierung sprach, alles Reisen durch Schlagb\u00e4ume und\nSchranken auf den Stra\u00dfen zu verhindern. Zudem hie\u00df es, da\u00df die St\u00e4dte\nan den Hauptstra\u00dfen die Leute von London nicht mehr passieren lassen\nwollten, aus Angst vor der Ansteckung, die sie mit sich br\u00e4chten. Dabei\nwaren diese beiden Ger\u00fcchte g\u00e4nzlich grundlos, wenigstens vorl\u00e4ufig,\nund nur in der Phantasie der Menschen entstanden.\nAuch ich begann mir ernstlich zu \u00fcberlegen, was ich selbst tun und\nmit mir anfangen, ob ich mich zum Bleiben in London entschlie\u00dfen oder\ngleich den meisten meiner Nachbarn mein Haus zuschlie\u00dfen und fliehen\nsollte. Ich spreche dar\u00fcber so ausf\u00fchrlich, weil es f\u00fcr die, die\nk\u00fcnftig vielleicht einmal in die gleiche schlimme Lage kommen und\nsich derselben Entscheidung gegen\u00fcbersehen, von einiger Bedeutung\nsein mag, und daher soll mein Bericht eher ein Fingerzeig f\u00fcr ihre\nHandlungsweise, als eine Geschichte meiner eigenen Handlungen sein,\nangesehen, da\u00df es ihnen auch nicht die Bohne verschlagen d\u00fcrfte zu\nwissen, was aus mir wurde.\nZwei wichtige Dinge hatte ich in Betracht zu ziehen: einerseits die\nFortf\u00fchrung meines Gesch\u00e4ftes, das nicht unbedeutend war, und in dem\nmein ganzes Geld steckte, andererseits die Erhaltung meines Lebens in\ndieser Ungl\u00fcckszeit, die, wie ich wohl vorhersah, \u00fcber die ganze Stadt\nkommen w\u00fcrde, und die meine Angst noch ins Ungemessene vergr\u00f6\u00dferte.\nDer erste dieser beiden Gesichtspunkte war f\u00fcr mich von erheblichem\nBelang. Mein Gesch\u00e4ft war das eines Sattlers, und da es der Hauptsache\nnach nicht in einem Ladengesch\u00e4ft bestand, sondern im Handel nach\nden englischen Kolonien in Amerika, steckte mein Geld zum gr\u00f6\u00dften\nTeile in den H\u00e4nden der dahin exportierenden Kaufleute. Ich war zwar\nJunggeselle, hatte aber einen Haufen von Leuten, die ich im Gesch\u00e4ft\nbrauchte, ein Haus, einen Laden, Lager voll von Waren -- und dies\nalles sich selbst zu \u00fcberlassen, wie es unter den jetzigen Umst\u00e4nden\nnun einmal nicht anders ging, ohne Aufseher oder eine richtige\nVertrauensperson, hie\u00df nicht nur mein Gesch\u00e4ft aufs Spiel setzen,\nsondern mein ganzes Verm\u00f6gen und alles, was ich auf der Welt mein eigen\nnannte.\nDamals befand sich ein \u00e4lterer Bruder von mir in London, der einige\nJahre fr\u00fcher von Portugal dahin gezogen war. Mit diesem beriet ich\nmich, und seine Antwort war in drei Worten dieselbe, die bei einer ganz\nanderen Gelegenheit gegeben worden war, n\u00e4mlich: Herr, rette dich!\nKurz, er war daf\u00fcr, da\u00df ich mich aufs Land begeben sollte, was zu tun\ner auch selbst mit seiner Familie entschlossen war. Er wiederholte,\nwas er im Ausland geh\u00f6rt hatte, da\u00df das beste Mittel gegen die Pest\nw\u00e4re, vor ihr davonzulaufen. Meine Bef\u00fcrchtungen wegen des Verlustes\nmeines Gesch\u00e4ftes, meines Geldes und meiner Au\u00dfenst\u00e4nde, widerlegte\ner mit denselben Gr\u00fcnden, die ich selbst f\u00fcr mein Bleiben ins Feld\nf\u00fchrte, indem er mein Vertrauen auf den Schutz Gottes in Hinsicht\nauf die Erhaltung meines Lebens meiner Angst vor dem Verlust meiner\nHabe gegen\u00fcberstellte. \u00bbW\u00e4re es nicht vern\u00fcnftiger,\u00ab meinte er, \u00bbein\nebensolches Vertrauen in Gott zu setzen, wenn es sich um die Erhaltung\ndeines Verm\u00f6gens handelt, als dich einer so f\u00fcrchterlichen Gefahr\nauszusetzen und ihm die Erhaltung deines Lebens anheimzustellen?\u00ab\nIch konnte nicht einmal als Gegenargument ins Feld f\u00fchren, da\u00df ich\nnicht w\u00fc\u00dfte, wohin ich mich wenden sollte, da ich mehrere Freunde und\nVerwandte in Northhamptonshire besa\u00df, woher unsere Familie stammte;\nau\u00dferdem wohnte in Lincolnshire meine einzige Schwester, die mich mit\nFreuden aufgenommen h\u00e4tte.\nMein Bruder, der seine Frau und seine zwei Kinder nach Bedfordshire\nvorausgeschickt hatte und ihnen zu folgen entschlossen war, drang in\nmich, mich auch davonzumachen. Einmal wollte ich ihm schon nachgeben,\nkonnte mir aber damals kein Pferd verschaffen. Denn obwohl es noch\nMenschen in London gab, kann man doch sagen, da\u00df die Pferde daraus\nverschwunden waren. Wochenlang war in der ganzen Stadt kein einziges\nPferd zu mieten oder zu kaufen. Dann entschlo\u00df ich mich wieder, mit\neinem Diener zu Fu\u00df auszuziehen, die Gasth\u00e4user zu vermeiden und ein\nSoldatenzelt mitzuf\u00fchren, um im Freien zu \u00fcbernachten, was bei dem\nwarmen Wetter ohne F\u00e4hrlichkeit geschehen konnte. Wirklich machten\u2019s\nauch viele so, besonders solche, die w\u00e4hrend des fr\u00fcheren Krieges\ngedient hatten, und ich mu\u00df sagen: h\u00e4tten\u2019s alle, die auswanderten,\nso gemacht, so w\u00e4re die Pest nicht in so zahlreiche Provinzst\u00e4dte\nhinausgetragen worden, wie es tats\u00e4chlich zum gro\u00dfen Schaden und\nVerderben unz\u00e4hliger Menschen geschah.\nAber dann lie\u00df mich der Diener, den ich hatte mitnehmen wollen, im\nStiche, da ihn die Zunahme der Seuche entsetzte und er im unsichern\nwar, wann ich mich auf den Weg machen w\u00fcrde. So lief er auf eigene\nFaust davon, und vereitelte, f\u00fcr den Augenblick wenigstens, meine\nAbsichten. \u00dcberhaupt kam, so bald ich mich zur Abreise entschlossen\nhatte, immer irgend etwas dazwischen, da\u00df ich sie wieder aufgeben\nmu\u00dfte, und dar\u00fcber, da\u00df n\u00e4mlich solche Hindernisse vom Himmel gesandt\nwerden, m\u00f6chte ich doch etwas sagen, wenn es auch eine Abschweifung\nbedeutet.\nEines Morgens, als ich \u00fcber diese Sache nachsann, wurde es mir ganz\neinleuchtend, da\u00df, da nichts ohne das Eingreifen oder die Zulassung\nder g\u00f6ttlichen Macht geschieht, auch diese Hindernisse eine besondere\nBedeutung haben m\u00fc\u00dften. Es zwang mich f\u00f6rmlich zu \u00fcberlegen, ob darin\nnicht ein augenscheinlicher Hinweis auf den Willen Gottes liege, da\u00df\nich nicht abreisen solle. Daran schlo\u00df sich der Gedanke, da\u00df, wenn\nGott wirklich mein Bleiben wolle, er auch sicherlich die Macht hatte,\nmich mitten in all der Gefahr und trotz des drohenden Todes am Leben\nzu erhalten. Und da\u00df andererseits meine Flucht entgegen all dieser\nHinweise, an deren g\u00f6ttliche Natur ich glaubte, nichts anderes war als\neine Flucht vor Gott, dessen Hand mich erreichen konnte, wo und wann es\nihm beliebte.\nSolche Gedanken warfen alle meine Entschl\u00fcsse wieder um, und als ich\nwieder zu meinem Bruder kam, sagte ich ihm, da\u00df ich bleiben und mein\nLos dort erwarten wolle, wohin mich Gott gestellt habe, und da\u00df mir\ndies in Anbetracht alles dessen, was ich eben ausgef\u00fchrt habe, auch\nmeine Pflicht scheine.\nObwohl mein Bruder selbst ein sehr frommer Mann war, lachte er doch\n\u00fcber das, was ich Fingerzeige des Himmels genannt hatte, und hielt\nmir mehrere Geschichten von \u00bbsolchem dummdreisten Volk\u00ab vor, wie er\nsich ausdr\u00fcckte, das mir \u00e4hnlich w\u00e4re. Freilich sollte ich es als\nein Eingreifen der himmlischen Macht betrachten, wenn ich etwa durch\nKrankheit verhindert w\u00fcrde, London zu verlassen. Dann k\u00f6nnte ich\nmich ruhig der Leitung meines Sch\u00f6pfers \u00fcberlassen, der nach seinem\nGutd\u00fcnken mit mir verfahren w\u00fcrde, und die Entscheidung, was die\nVorsehung \u00fcber mich verh\u00e4ngt habe und was nicht, w\u00e4re nicht schwer zu\ntreffen. Da\u00df ich es aber als einen Fingerzeig Gottes betrachte, da\u00df ich\nkein Pferd zu mieten kriegen k\u00f6nne oder mein Diener, der mich auf der\nReise begleiten sollte, weggelaufen war, w\u00e4re l\u00e4cherlich, angesehen ich\nzur gleichen Zeit meine Gesundheit und meine K\u00f6rperkr\u00e4fte behalten\nh\u00e4tte, auch noch andere Diener bes\u00e4\u00dfe, und somit leicht ein oder zwei\nTage zu Fu\u00df wandern k\u00f6nne. Und da ich au\u00dferdem ein Gesundheitszeugnis\nh\u00e4tte, k\u00f6nnte ich nach meinem Belieben dann auf der Strecke ein Pferd\nmieten oder auch die Post nehmen.\nDann fuhr er fort, mir von den heillosen Folgen zu erz\u00e4hlen, die\nsich aus dem Glauben der T\u00fcrken und Mohammedaner in Asien und andern\nL\u00e4ndern, wo er gewesen war, erg\u00e4ben (denn mein Bruder war als Kaufmann\nvor einigen Jahren, wie ich schon berichtet habe, aus dem Ausland\nzur\u00fcckgekehrt und hatte sich zuletzt in Lissabon aufgehalten), und wie\nsie in der \u00dcberzeugung, da\u00df das Schicksal jedes Menschen unab\u00e4nderlich\nvorherbestimmt und festgelegt w\u00e4re, ohne Bedenken in verseuchte Orte\nz\u00f6gen und mit angesteckten Leuten verkehrten, was eine w\u00f6chentliche\nSterblichkeit von 10 oder 15000 zur Folge h\u00e4tte, w\u00e4hrend die Europ\u00e4er\nund christlichen Kaufleute, die sich absperrten und abseits hielten, im\nallgemeinen der Ansteckung entgingen.\nDurch solche Gr\u00fcnde machte mein Bruder meine Entschl\u00fcsse wieder\nwankend, ich begann nun doch an die Abreise zu denken und bereitete\nmich dementsprechend vor, denn die Seuche hatte sich nun in der ganzen\nUmgegend verbreitet, die Register wiesen eine Sterblichkeit von 700\ndie Woche aus, und mein Bruder sagte mir, er wage nicht mehr l\u00e4nger\nzu bleiben. Ich bat ihn noch um einen Tag Bedenkzeit, und da alles so\ngut als m\u00f6glich vorbereitet war, auch in Hinsicht auf mein Gesch\u00e4ft,\nund denjenigen, dem ich die Sorge f\u00fcr meine Angelegenheiten \u00fcbergeben\nwollte, hatte ich wenig mehr zu tun als einen letzten Entschlu\u00df zu\nfassen.\nAn diesem Abend ging ich schwer bedr\u00fcckt nach Hause, unentschieden\nund ohne zu wissen, was ich tun sollte. Ich hatte mich f\u00fcr den Abend\nfrei gemacht, um alles noch einmal ernstlich zu \u00fcberdenken, und\nwar ganz allein. Damals hatten schon die Leute, wie in allgemeiner\n\u00dcbereinstimmung, die Gewohnheit angenommen, nach Sonnenuntergang ihr\nHeim nicht mehr zu verlassen, wor\u00fcber ich sp\u00e4ter noch mehr zu sagen\nhaben werde.\nIn der Einsamkeit dieses Abends versuchte ich, mir erst dar\u00fcber klar\nzu werden, welche Handlungsweise mir die Pflicht vorschrieb. Ich\nf\u00fchrte mir wieder die Gr\u00fcnde vor Augen, die mein Bruder vorgebracht\nhatte, um mich zur Abreise zu bewegen, und stellte ihnen mein eigenes\nlebhaftes Gef\u00fchl gegen\u00fcber, das f\u00fcrs Bleiben sprach: die Umst\u00e4nde, die\naus der besonderen Art meines Berufes hervorgingen, die Pflicht, mir\nmeine Waren und mein Geld zu erhalten, die gewisserma\u00dfen mein Verm\u00f6gen\nausmachten, dann auch die Winke, die mir nach meiner \u00dcberzeugung vom\nHimmel zugekommen waren und f\u00fcr mich eine Art von Leitung bedeuteten.\nDabei fiel mir ein, da\u00df ich, wenn ich einen offenbaren Wink zum Bleiben\nerhalten w\u00fcrde, diesen gleichzeitig als ein Versprechen der Erhaltung\nmeines Lebens betrachten d\u00fcrfe, als Lohn meines Gehorsams.\nDieser Gedankengang lag mir; meine Gedanken neigten sich mehr als\nje dazu, zu bleiben, und wurden durch eine heimliche Sicherheit\nunterst\u00fctzt, da\u00df ich vor dem Tode bewahrt werden w\u00fcrde. Ich bl\u00e4tterte\nin der Bibel, die vor mir lag, und w\u00e4hrend ich meinen Geist mit\nungew\u00f6hnlichem Ernste auf das richtete, was mir fragw\u00fcrdig schien,\nrief ich: \u00bbIch wei\u00df nicht, was ich tun soll, Herr, leite du mich!\u00ab und\ndabei h\u00f6rte ich auf, in der Bibel zu bl\u00e4ttern, beim 91. Psalm, und\nindem mein Auge auf den zweiten Vers fiel, las ich bis zum siebenten,\nden aber nicht, und schob daf\u00fcr den zehnten ein, folgenderma\u00dfen: Der\nspricht zu dem Herrn: Meine Zuversicht und meine Burg, mein Gott, auf\nden ich hoffe. Denn er errettet mich vom Strick des J\u00e4gers und von der\nsch\u00e4dlichen Pestilenz. Er wird dich mit seinen Fittigen decken, und\ndeine Zuversicht wird sein unter seinen Fl\u00fcgeln. Seine Wahrheit ist\nSchirm und Schild, da\u00df du nicht erschrecken m\u00fcssest vor dem Grauen des\nNachts, vor den Pfeilen, die des Tages fliegen, vor der Pestilenz, die\nim Finstern schleichet, vor der Seuche, die im Mittag verderbet. Ob\ntausend fallen zu deiner Seite, und zehntausend zu deiner Rechten, so\nwird es doch dich nicht treffen. Ja, du wirst mit deinen Augen deine\nLust sehen, und schauen, wie es den Gottlosen vergolten wird. Denn der\nHerr ist deine Zuversicht, der H\u00f6chste ist deine Zuflucht. Es wird dir\nkein \u00dcbels begegnen, und keine Plage wird zu deiner H\u00fctte sich nahen. --\nIch brauche dem Leser kaum zu sagen, da\u00df ich mich von diesem\nAugenblicke an entschlo\u00df, in der Stadt zu bleiben und mich ganz der\nG\u00fcte und dem Schutz des Allm\u00e4chtigen zu \u00fcberlassen, ohne irgendeine\nandere Zuflucht zu suchen. Da meine Tage in seinen H\u00e4nden waren, war\ner imstande, mich in einer Zeit der Seuche wie in guten Zeiten zu\nerhalten. Wenn es ihm nicht richtig schien, mich zu bewahren, war ich\ndoch in seinen H\u00e4nden, und es war seine Sache, mit mir nach seinem\nGutd\u00fcnken zu verfahren.\nMit diesem Entschlu\u00df ging ich zu Bett, und der n\u00e4chste Tag best\u00e4rkte\nmich weiter darin, denn die Frau, der ich mein Haus und alle meine\nAngelegenheiten hatte \u00fcbergeben wollen, fiel in Krankheit. Und ich\nselbst erhielt einen Wink von derselben Seite, denn auch ich befand\nmich am folgenden Tage recht wenig wohl. H\u00e4tte ich also auch fortgehen\nwollen, so w\u00e4re ich dazu nicht imstande gewesen. Mein Unwohlsein\ndauerte drei oder vier Tage, und damit war mein endg\u00fcltiger Entschlu\u00df\nzum Bleiben gefa\u00dft. Ich nahm daher Abschied von meinem Bruder, der sich\nnach Dorking begab, in Surrey, und dann weiterhin nach Buckinghamshire\noder Bedfordshire, nach einer Zufluchtsst\u00e4tte, die er f\u00fcr seine Familie\nentdeckt hatte.\nEs war eine sehr b\u00f6se Zeit, um krank zu sein, denn von jedem, der\nklagte, hie\u00df es, er habe die Pest, und obwohl sich bei mir keinerlei\nSymptome dieser Seuche zeigten, war ich doch nicht ohne Angst, da\nich starke Schmerzen im Kopf und Magen versp\u00fcrte, da\u00df ich wirklich\nangesteckt worden w\u00e4re. Doch nach etwa drei Tagen begann es mir besser\nzu gehen, in der dritten Nacht schlief ich gut, schwitzte etwas und\nerwachte recht erfrischt. Die Furcht vor der Ansteckung verlie\u00df mich\nmit der Krankheit, und ich ging wie gew\u00f6hnlich meinen Gesch\u00e4ften nach.\nAlle Gedanken an Flucht waren mir aber vergangen, und da mein Bruder\nnun auch fort war, gab es \u00fcber diesen Gegenstand keine \u00dcberlegungen\nmehr, weder mit ihm noch mit mir selbst.\nEs war jetzt Mitte Juli, und die Pest, die haupts\u00e4chlich am andern\nEnde der Stadt gew\u00fctet hatte, in den Kirchspielen von St. Giles, St.\nAndrew, Holborn und gegen Westminster zu, begann sich nun nach Osten\nauszudehnen, gegen den Stadtteil, wo ich wohnte. Merkw\u00fcrdigerweise\nging sie nicht in gerader Linie vor, denn die City, d. h. die innere\nStadt, war noch immer verh\u00e4ltnism\u00e4\u00dfig unverseucht, und auch \u00fcber dem\nFlu\u00df, in Southwark, war noch nicht viel zu sp\u00fcren. Obwohl in dieser\nWoche im ganzen 1268 starben, davon wahrscheinlich \u00fcber 900 an der\nPest, trafen auf die innere Stadt nur 28 und nur 19 auf Southwark, das\nLambeth-Kirchspiel eingeschlossen, w\u00e4hrend in den Kirchspielen von St.\nGiles und St. Martin in the Fields allein 421 starben.\nEs war zu beobachten, das sich die Seuche haupts\u00e4chlich in den \u00e4u\u00dferen\nKirchspielen hielt, die sehr dicht bev\u00f6lkert waren, besonders von\narmen Leuten. Dort fand die Seuche einen besseren Boden als in der\nCity, wor\u00fcber sp\u00e4ter mehr. Es war also, wie gesagt, zu beobachten,\nda\u00df die Seuche auf uns zu kam, durch die Kirchspiele von Clerkenwell,\nCripplegate, Shoreditch und Bishopsgate, welch\u2019 letztere beiden\nan Aldgate, Whitechapel und Stepney grenzen. Dort entfaltete sie\nsp\u00e4ter ihre \u00e4u\u00dferste Wut und Heftigkeit, als sie in den westlichen\nKirchspielen, wo sie ausgebrochen war, schon nachgelassen hatte.\nEs war sehr seltsam, da\u00df in dieser Woche, vom 4. bis zum 11. Juli im\nKirchspiel von Aldgate nur 4, in dem von Whitechapel nur 3 starben und\nin Stepney nur 1, w\u00e4hrend die Seuche in den beiden Kirchspielen von St.\nMartin und St. Giles in the Fields nahe an 400 hinwegraffte.\nAuch in der n\u00e4chsten Woche, vom 11. bis 18. Juli, starben auf der\nganzen Seite von Southwark nur 16 bei einer Gesamtsterblichkeit von\nAber das \u00e4nderte sich bald, und besonders Cripplegate und Clerkenwell\nwurden betroffen, so da\u00df in der zweiten Augustwoche in Cripplegate\nallein 886 beerdigt werden mu\u00dften, und in Clerkenwell 155. Davon waren\nin Cripplegate wohl 850 an der Pest gestorben; in Clerkenwell gab das\nRegister selbst 145 Pestf\u00e4lle zu.\nW\u00e4hrend des Monats Juli, als unser Stadtteil im Vergleich zu den\nWestgegenden noch ziemlich frei schien, ging ich wie gew\u00f6hnlich auf\ndie Stra\u00dfe, wie es gerade meine Gesch\u00e4fte mit sich brachten, und begab\nmich regelm\u00e4\u00dfig alle Tage oder jeden zweiten Tag in die City zum Hause\nmeines Bruders, das er meiner Sorge \u00fcbergeben hatte, um nachzusehen,\nob alles in Ordnung war. Da ich den Schl\u00fcssel in der Tasche hatte,\nschlo\u00df ich meistens das Haus auf und ging durch alle R\u00e4ume. Denn obwohl\nes unglaublich klingt, da\u00df in solchen Zeiten des Elends jemand das Herz\nhaben sollte zu stehlen und zu rauben, war es doch so, da\u00df alle Arten\nvon Sch\u00e4ndlichkeiten, Liederlichkeiten und sogar Ausschweifungen so\noffen als jemals begangen wurden, wenn auch vielleicht nicht so h\u00e4ufig,\nweil die Bev\u00f6lkerung doch aus vielen Gr\u00fcnden abgenommen hatte.\nUnd nun kam die Seuche auch an die innere Stadt, die eigentliche City.\nDort waren die Inwohner arg zusammengeschmolzen, da sie haufenweise die\nFlucht ergriffen hatten und auch den ganzen Juli hindurch noch flohen,\nobschon nicht in solcher Anzahl wie zuvor. Im August nahm dann das\nFl\u00fcchten wieder so zu, da\u00df ich fast glaubte, es w\u00fcrden nur noch Beamte\nund Dienstboten in der City zur\u00fcckbleiben.\nDer Hof war schon fr\u00fcher, im Monat Juni, verlegt worden. Er begab\nsich nach Oxford, wo er durch die Gnade Gottes bewahrt blieb. Soviel\nich h\u00f6rte, blieb er von der Seuche g\u00e4nzlich unber\u00fchrt, wof\u00fcr er aber\nkeine gro\u00dfe Dankbarkeit an den Tag legte oder irgendein Zeichen der\nBesserung, obwohl es ihm nicht erst gesagt zu werden brauchte, da\u00df\nseine offenkundigen Laster nicht wenig dazu beigetragen haben mochten,\ndieses schreckliche Gericht \u00fcber das ganze Volk zu bringen.\nDas Aussehen Londons war jetzt wirklich sehr ver\u00e4ndert. Ich meine\ndie ganze H\u00e4usermasse, City, Vorst\u00e4dte, Westminster, Southwark, alles\nzusammen. Die eigentliche Stadt, innerhalb der Stadtmauern, war noch\nnicht stark verseucht. Aber doch war, wie gesagt, das allgemeine\nAussehen ein anderes geworden. Sorge und Trauer zeigten sich auf allen\nGesichtern, und obschon einige Stadtteile noch ziemlich frei waren,\nsahen doch alle Leute sehr bek\u00fcmmert aus. Immer n\u00e4her sahen wir die\nSeuche kommen, und jeder mu\u00dfte sich selbst und seine Familie f\u00fcr aufs\n\u00e4u\u00dferste gef\u00e4hrdet halten. W\u00e4re es m\u00f6glich, jenen, die sie nicht erlebt\nhaben, diese Zeit ganz vor Augen zu bringen, und den Lesern eine\nrichtige Vorstellung von dem Grauen zu geben, das \u00fcberall herrschte,\nso m\u00fc\u00dfte es ihnen einen unausl\u00f6schlichen Eindruck machen und sie mit\nh\u00f6chster Best\u00fcrzung erf\u00fcllen. Man kann wohl sagen, da\u00df ganz London\nin Tr\u00e4nen schwamm. Zwar gingen die Trauernden nicht auf die Stra\u00dfe,\nkleideten sich auch nicht in Schwarz, nicht einmal f\u00fcr die n\u00e4chsten\nFreunde, aber die Stimme der Trauer hallte doch durch alle Stra\u00dfen.\nDas Geschrei der Frauen und Kinder an den Fenstern und Haust\u00fcren,\nhinter denen die n\u00e4chsten Anverwandten vielleicht im Sterben oder\nschon als Leichen lagen, war so h\u00e4ufig zu h\u00f6ren, w\u00e4hrend man durch\ndie Stra\u00dfen ging, da\u00df es auch dem Mutigsten durch Mark und Bein gehen\nmu\u00dfte. Weinen und Klagen fast in jedem Hause, besonders in der ersten\nZeit der Seuche. Denn sp\u00e4ter stumpften sich die Herzen ab. Der Tod war\nbest\u00e4ndig vor unsern Augen, und auch der Verlust der Freunde k\u00fcmmerte\nden nicht mehr viel, der vielleicht schon in der n\u00e4chsten Stunde das\neigne Leben zu verlieren erwarten mu\u00dfte.\nDie Gesch\u00e4fte f\u00fchrten mich zuweilen an das andere Ende der Stadt, als\ndie Seuche dort am st\u00e4rksten herrschte, und da mir wie \u00fcbrigens jedem\nandern die Sache noch neu war, sah ich mit keiner kleinen \u00dcberraschung,\nwie ver\u00f6det die sonst so belebten Stra\u00dfen waren, in denen man kaum hier\nund da einen Menschen antraf. W\u00e4re ich ein Fremder gewesen, h\u00e4tte ich\nmanchmal ganze Stra\u00dfen lang, wenigstens was die Nebengassen betrifft,\nkein lebendes Wesen gefunden, um nach dem Wege zu fragen, au\u00dfer den\nWachleuten, die vor den abgesperrten H\u00e4usern aufgestellt waren, welchen\nUmstand ich gleich n\u00e4her erkl\u00e4ren werde.\nAls ich eines Tages in einer besonderen Angelegenheit in jenem Teile\nder Stadt war, bewog mich die Neugier, alles genauer als sonst zu\nbetrachten. Ich ging daher eine gro\u00dfe Strecke weiter, wo ich eigentlich\nnichts zu tun hatte. In Holborn waren viele Leute auf der Stra\u00dfe, aber\nsie gingen alle in der Mitte, weder rechts noch links, um, wie ich\nvermute, ein Zusammentreffen mit jedem zu vermeiden, der etwa aus einem\nHause herausk\u00e4me, und auch, um den Ger\u00fcchen zu entgehen, die aus den\nverseuchten H\u00e4usern drangen.\nDie Rechtskollegien waren alle geschlossen, und auch im Temple, in\nLincolns Inn oder Grays Inn fand man nur wenige Rechtsanw\u00e4lte. Es gab\nkeine Prozesse mehr, also hatten sie nichts zu tun, abgesehen von den\nGerichtsferien, die die meisten dazu benutzten, aufs Land zu gehen.\nAn einigen Pl\u00e4tzen waren ganze H\u00e4userreihen sorgsam verschlossen. Die\nBewohner waren alle geflohen, nur ein oder zwei Wachleute zu sehen.\nWenn ich sage, da\u00df ganze H\u00e4userreihen verschlossen waren, so meine ich\nnicht, da\u00df das auf Befehl der Beh\u00f6rden geschehen war. Eine Menge Leute\nwaren dem Hofe gefolgt, in dessen Diensten sie standen, und auch andere\nwaren aus Angst vor der Pest geflohen, so da\u00df manche Stra\u00dfen v\u00f6llig\nver\u00f6det erschienen. Die Furcht war damals in der eigentlichen City noch\nlange nicht so gro\u00df, denn wenn auch anfangs dort ein unaussprechliches\nEntsetzen \u00fcberhandnahm, ging die Seuche zuerst doch oft wieder zur\u00fcck,\nso da\u00df die Leute wiederholt aufgeschreckt wurden und sich dann wieder\nberuhigten, bis sie sich endlich daran gew\u00f6hnten. Selbst wenn die\nSeuche dann von neuem heftiger auftrat, verloren sie nicht mehr den\nMut, weil sie sahen, da\u00df sie sich nicht sofort in der City, den\n\u00f6stlichen und s\u00fcdlichen Teilen verbreitete. Und au\u00dferdem war alles ein\nwenig abgestumpft. Es ist nicht zu leugnen, da\u00df eine ungeheure Masse\nVolkes geflohen war, aber haupts\u00e4chlich aus den westlichen Stadtteilen\nund jenen, die man das Herz der City nennt, also vornehmlich reiche\nLeute oder solche, die weder Beruf noch Gesch\u00e4ft hatten. Die andern\nwaren im allgemeinen geblieben, in Erwartung des Schlimmsten, so in\nden \u00e4u\u00dfern Bezirken und Vorst\u00e4dten, in Southwark, Ratcliff, Stepney,\nRotherhithe und da herum, bis auf die wenigen Wohlhabenderen, die\nunabh\u00e4ngig waren.\nMan darf nicht vergessen, da\u00df beim Ausbruch der Seuche London mit all\nseinen Vorst\u00e4dten richtig \u00fcberf\u00fcllt an Menschen war. Wenn auch seither\ndie Bev\u00f6lkerung weiter m\u00e4chtig zugenommen hat, so waren doch damals,\nnach Beendigung des Krieges, Aufl\u00f6sung der Heere, und Wiederherstellung\nder Monarchie die Leute haufenweise nach London gekommen, um sich\ndort gesch\u00e4ftlich niederzulassen oder bei Hofe Anstellung, Belohnung\nf\u00fcr geleistete Dienste und was dem mehr ist, zu suchen. Man nahm an,\nda\u00df auf solche Weise die Stadtbev\u00f6lkerung um mehr als 100000, ja, wie\nmanche behaupteten, aufs Doppelte gestiegen war. Str\u00f6mten doch all die\nzugrunde gerichteten Familien der K\u00f6nigspartei hier zusammen, all die\nverabschiedeten Soldaten, die sich nun um irgendeinen Handel umsahen,\nund auch au\u00dferdem eine Masse Menschen. Denn der Hof erschien in Pracht\nund neuem Glanze, das Geld flog nur so hinaus, und die Befriedigung\n\u00fcber die Wiederherstellung des K\u00f6nigtums zog nicht wenige Familien nach\nder Hauptstadt.\nAber nun wieder zur\u00fcck zum Beginn dieser erstaunlichen Zeit, als die\nAngst des Volkes erst im Entstehen war. Mehrere seltsame Ereignisse\nkamen dazu, sie zu verst\u00e4rken, und wenn man sie nebeneinander h\u00e4lt, mu\u00df\nman sich wirklich wundern, da\u00df nicht das ganze Volk, wie ein Mann, die\nHeimst\u00e4tten verlie\u00df und sich aus einem Orte fl\u00fcchtete, den der Fluch\ndes Himmels getroffen hatte, mit allem, was in ihm lebte, vom Erdboden\nzu verschwinden. Ich will nur einiges davon anf\u00fchren, von dem vielen,\nmit dem die Hexenmeister und Schlauk\u00f6pfe einen solchen Schwindel\ntrieben, da\u00df ich nicht erstaunt gewesen w\u00e4re, wenn alle, besonders die\nFrauen, die Stadt verlassen h\u00e4tten.\nVor allem war es ein Schweifstern oder Komet, der mehrere Monate\nvor der Pest am Himmel erschien, gerade wie damals vor der gro\u00dfen\nFeuersbrunst. Die alten Weiber und jener Teil des st\u00e4rkeren\nGeschlechts, den ich auch alte Weiber nennen m\u00f6chte, beobachteten\ndamals, aber nat\u00fcrlich erst, als beide Heimsuchungen vor\u00fcber waren,\nda\u00df die beiden Kometen unmittelbar \u00fcber die Stadt hinweggezogen waren,\nund das so nahe \u00fcber den H\u00e4usern, da\u00df es offensichtlich f\u00fcr die Stadt\netwas Besonderes zu bedeuten hatte. Ferner hie\u00df es, da\u00df der Komet, der\nvor der Seuche erschien, von blasser, matter, flauer Farbe gewesen\nw\u00e4re, sich auch sehr langsam, feierlich und schwerf\u00e4llig bewegt habe,\nw\u00e4hrend der Komet, der die Feuersbrunst anzeigte, hell, gl\u00e4nzend und\nspr\u00fchend ausgesehen h\u00e4tte und sich schnell und w\u00fctend bewegt habe.\nWoraus hervorgeht, da\u00df der eine eine langsam verlaufende, aber schwere,\nschreckliche und verderbliche Heimsuchung anzeigte, wie es die Pest\nist, der andere aber ein pl\u00f6tzliches, schnell hereinbrechendes Ungl\u00fcck,\nn\u00e4mlich die Feuersbrunst. Einige Leute behaupteten sogar, beim raschen\nVor\u00fcberziehen des Feuerkometen, dessen Bewegung sie mit den Augen\nfolgten, ein gewaltiges, sausendes Get\u00f6se vernommen zu haben, wie aus\nweiter Entfernung, so da\u00df es gerade noch h\u00f6rbar war.\nIch selbst habe beide Himmelsk\u00f6rper gesehen und mu\u00df gestehen, da\u00df auch\nich so weit von dem allgemeinen Glauben angesteckt war, um in ihnen die\nVorboten und Warnungen des g\u00f6ttlichen Gerichtes zu erkennen, besonders,\nals auf den ersten die Pest folgte. Als ich dann den zweiten erblickte,\nkonnte ich nicht anders als glauben, da\u00df Gott die Stadt noch nicht\ngen\u00fcgend gestraft h\u00e4tte.\nDie Furcht des Volkes wurde noch mehr gesteigert durch den Aberglauben\njener Zeit, die, ich wei\u00df nicht auf was hin, mehr f\u00fcr Vorhersagungen,\nastrologisches Gerede, Tr\u00e4ume und Altweibergeschw\u00e4tz empf\u00e4nglich\nwar, als irgendeine vorher oder nachher. Ob diese unselige Neigung\nurspr\u00fcnglich durch die Narreteien jener Leute gen\u00e4hrt wurde, die\ndadurch Geld verdienten, indem sie allerlei Prophezeiungen und\nHoroskope drucken lie\u00dfen, wei\u00df ich auch nicht, aber sicher ist es, da\u00df\nalles Gedruckte auf das Volk einen tiefen Eindruck machte, solches Zeug\nwie Lilys Almanach, Gadburys Astrologische Prophezeiungen, Poor Robins\nKalender und \u00e4hnliches mehr, ebenso wie vorgebliche Andachtsb\u00fccher.\nEins von ihnen trug den Titel: Zieh aus von ihr, mein Volk, damit du\nnicht zum Mitschuldigen an ihren Seuchen werdest; ein anderes hie\u00df:\nGuter Rat, ein drittes: Britisches Memento usw. Alle oder fast alle\nsagten offen oder verschleiert das Verderben der Stadt voraus. Manche\nLeute stellten sich so begeistert, da\u00df sie, Prophezeiungen ausrufend,\ndurch die Stra\u00dfen liefen, unter dem Vorgeben, sie w\u00e4ren gesandt, der\nStadt Bu\u00dfe zu predigen. Einer besonders schrie in den Stra\u00dfen wie Jonas\nin Ninive: Noch 40 Tage, dann wird London zerst\u00f6rt werden! Ganz genau\nwei\u00df ich allerdings nicht mehr, ob er 40 Tage oder ein paar Tage sagte.\nEin anderer trieb sich, bis auf eine Unterhose splitternackt, herum und\nrief wie jener Mann, von dem Josephus erz\u00e4hlt, der vor der Zerst\u00f6rung\nJerusalems \u00bbWehe Jerusalem\u00ab schrie, Tag und Nacht: O des gro\u00dfen und\nschrecklichen Gottes! Mehr sagte er nicht, sondern wiederholte nur\nimmer wieder dieselben Worte mit einer Stimme und einem Gesicht, in\ndenen sich das Entsetzen malte, w\u00e4hrend er unaufh\u00f6rlich weiter rannte,\nohne jemals stehen zu bleiben, sich niederzusetzen oder irgendeine\nNahrung zu sich zu nehmen, wenigstens nach dem, was ich von ihm geh\u00f6rt\nhabe. Ich sah den armen Teufel mehrmals auf der Stra\u00dfe und w\u00fcrde ihn\nangeredet haben, aber er wollte weder mit mir noch irgend jemand sonst\netwas zu tun haben, sondern fuhr nur fort, sein schauerliches Geschrei\nvon sich zu geben.\nDurch derartige Vorf\u00e4lle wurde das Volk aufs \u00e4u\u00dferste erregt,\nbesonders, als wie schon berichtet, in den \u00f6ffentlichen Sterberegistern\nzwei oder drei Pestf\u00e4lle in St. Giles erschienen.\nZu all dem kamen noch die Tr\u00e4ume der alten Weiber, oder richtiger: die\nAuslegungen der alten Weiber der Tr\u00e4ume anderer Leute. Sie machten\nHaufen von Menschen geradezu verr\u00fcckt.\nEinige h\u00f6rten Stimmen, die sie ermahnten fortzugehen, denn es w\u00fcrde\neine solche Seuche in London ausbrechen, da\u00df die Lebenden nicht mehr\nimstande w\u00e4ren, die Toten zu begraben. Andere sahen Erscheinungen in\nder Luft, und ich glaube, ich darf von beiden, ohne die Gef\u00fchle des\nMitleids zu verletzen, sagen, da\u00df sie Stimmen h\u00f6rten, die niemals\nsprachen und Erscheinungen sahen, die nicht da waren. Aber die\nEinbildungskraft der Leute war nun einmal wie besessen, und kein\nWunder, da\u00df die, die best\u00e4ndig in die Wolken schauten, endlich Umrisse\nund Gesichter und Erscheinungen sahen, die aus nichts als Dunst und\nQualm bestanden. Die einen schrien, sie s\u00e4hen eine Hand, die ein\nFlammenschwert mit der Spitze \u00fcber die Stadt hielte, aus der Wolke\nhervorkommen; andere erblickten in der Luft Bahren und S\u00e4rge, die\nzum Begr\u00e4bnisplatz zogen. Dann wieder Leichenhaufen, die unbeerdigt\nherumlagen, -- was eben die Phantasie des armen verwirrten Volkes\ngerade hervorbrachte.\nGanze B\u00fccher k\u00f6nnte ich mit den Erz\u00e4hlungen solcher Leute anf\u00fcllen von\ndem, was sie t\u00e4glich gesehen hatten. Und dabei glaubte jeder so fest\nan das, was er erblickt zu haben vorgab, da\u00df man keinem widersprechen\ndurfte, ohne ihn zum Feinde zu machen oder einerseits roh und\nunmanierlich, oder frivol und oberfl\u00e4chlich gescholten zu werden. Eines\nTages, ehe sich die Pest noch \u00fcber St. Giles hinaus verbreitet hatte,\nsah ich mitten auf der Stra\u00dfe einen Haufen Menschen. Aus Neugier ging\nich hin und sah, da\u00df sie alle in die Luft starrten, um das gewahr zu\nwerden, was ein altes Weib dort erblickte, n\u00e4mlich nach ihren eigenen\nWorten, einen wei\u00dfgekleideten Engel, der ein feuriges Schwert \u00fcber\nseinem Haupte schwang. Sie beschrieb die Gestalt bis ins einzelne mit\njeder Bewegung, und die Leute waren voll Begier, sie auch zu sehen, bis\nendlich einer schrie: Ja, ich seh\u2019s ganz deutlich, da ist ein Schwert,\nwie\u2019s nur eins gibt; einer sah den Engel, ein anderer sein Gesicht und\nrief: Was f\u00fcr eine wundervolle Gestalt; und so sah der eine dies und\nder andere das. Ich schaute ebenso eifrig wie die anderen hinauf, wenn\nauch wahrscheinlich mit weniger Bereitwilligkeit, mir etwas einreden\nzu lassen, aber ich konnte nichts sehen als eine wei\u00dfe Wolke, die auf\nder einen Seite gl\u00e4nzte, weil auf die andere die Sonne schien. Das\nWeib versuchte, mir\u2019s zu zeigen, konnte mich aber nicht zum Gest\u00e4ndnis\nbringen, da\u00df ich etwas sah. Denn ich h\u00e4tte l\u00fcgen m\u00fcssen, wenn ich\nbehauptet h\u00e4tte, ich s\u00e4he etwas. Worauf das Weib mich anblickte und\nmeinte, ich lache sie aus, was aber wiederum nur in ihrer Phantasie\ngeschah, weil\u2019s mir wirklich nicht ums Lachen war, sondern ich bei mir\n\u00fcberdachte, wie sich die armen Leute durch ihre eigene Einbildungskraft\nins Bockshorn jagen lie\u00dfen. Die Frau wandte sich nun mir zu, nannte\nmich einen unheiligen Burschen und Sp\u00f6tter, und rief, es sei eine Zeit\nvon Gottes Zorn, sein schreckliches Gericht r\u00fccke n\u00e4her und solche,\nwie ich, die ihn mi\u00dfachteten, sollten hinausziehen und zugrunde gehen.\nDie herumstehenden Leute schienen ebenso aufgebracht als das Weib\nselber, und da ich sah, ich k\u00f6nnte sie doch nicht \u00fcberreden, da\u00df ich\nsie nicht ausgelacht h\u00e4tte, und eher Mi\u00dfhandlungen bef\u00fcrchten mu\u00dfte,\nging ich meines Weges und lie\u00df die Engelserscheinung ebenso wirklich\nsein wie die des Kometen.\nNoch eine andere Begegnung hatte ich am hellichten Tage, in einem engen\nDurchgang von Petty-France in dem Bishopsgate-Kirchhof, an einer Reihe\nvon Armenh\u00e4usern vorbei. Dabei mu\u00df ich bemerken, da\u00df es zwei Kirchh\u00f6fe\nim Kirchspiele von Bishopsgate gibt, den einen zwischen dem Platz von\nPetty-France und der Bishopsgate-Stra\u00dfe, der gerade bei der Kircht\u00fcre\naufh\u00f6rt, den andern an dem engen Durchgang, wo die Armenh\u00e4user zur\nLinken bleiben und eine kleine Mauer mit Holzplanken darauf den Weg\nrechts begrenzt, w\u00e4hrend die Stadtmauer noch weiter rechts liegt.\nIn diesem Durchgang nun stand ein Mann, der durch die Holzplanke in\nden Kirchhof hineinsp\u00e4hte und so viele Leute um ihn herum, da\u00df man\nsich gerade noch durchzw\u00e4ngen konnte. Der Kerl sprach mit allem Eifer\nzu ihnen, und w\u00e4hrend er bald dahin bald dorthin zeigte, behauptete\ner einen Geist \u00fcber einen Grabstein schreiten zu sehen und beschrieb\nihn in Gang, Haltung und Aussehen so genau, da\u00df er um alles in der\nWelt nicht begriff, wie nicht jeder sonst ihn ebensogut sehen sollte.\nPl\u00f6tzlich rief er aus: Da ist er! Jetzt geht er da! Nun dort! Jetzt hat\ner sich umgedreht!, bis er die Leute endlich so beschwatzt hatte, da\u00df\neiner sich einbildete, er s\u00e4he nun auch den Geist. Und so kam er jeden\nTag und verursachte f\u00f6rmlich einen Auflauf in diesem engen Durchgang,\nbis es auf der Kirchenuhr elfe schlug und der Geist gerade so, als ob\ner abgerufen w\u00fcrde, verschwand.\nIch schaute \u00fcberall herum, und zwar genau in dem Augenblicke, als der\nMann hindeutete, konnte aber auch nicht den Schatten einer Erscheinung\nerblicken. Aber der arme Teufel tat so bestimmt, da\u00df die Leute\nNervenzuf\u00e4lle bekamen und schlie\u00dflich zitternd und voll Schrecken sich\nfortschlichen, bis bald nur mehr ganz wenige, die von der Geschichte\nwu\u00dften, sich trauten, den Durchgang zu benutzen. Bei Nacht aber h\u00e4tte\nsich niemand, und h\u00e4tte er\u2019s noch so wichtig gehabt, durchgewagt.\nDieser Geist machte, wie der Mann versicherte, Zeichen gegen die\nH\u00e4user, gegen den Boden und die Leute, offenbar, um anzudeuten, da\u00df sie\nhaufenweise in diesem Kirchhof begraben w\u00fcrden. Wenigstens verstanden\nsie\u2019s so. Es kam auch, wie\u2019s der Geist vorhergesagt hatte, und\nvielleicht sah der Mann Dinge, an die ich niemals geglaubt habe. Ich\nselbst konnte nichts davon entdecken, so sehr ich mich auch anstrengte.\nMan versuchte wohl das Drucken solcher B\u00fccher, die die Leute nur in\nVerwirrung setzten, zu verbieten, und jene, die sie in Umlauf brachten,\nzu bestrafen, aber zu rechten Ma\u00dfregeln kam es doch nicht, da die\nRegierung, soviel ich wei\u00df, das Volk nicht weiter aufbringen wollte,\ndas so schon am Ende seiner Vernunft war.\nAuch mit jenen Geistlichen kann ich mich nicht einverstanden\nerkl\u00e4ren, die durch ihre Predigten das Gem\u00fct ihrer Zuh\u00f6rer noch mehr\nniederdr\u00fcckten, statt es zu erheben. Manche taten es zweifellos, um den\nMut der Leute zu st\u00e4rken und sie zur Bu\u00dfe anzuhalten. Aber diesen Zweck\nerreichten sie doch kaum, jedenfalls nicht verglichen mit dem Schaden,\nden sie anrichteten.\nEin Unfug hat immer einen anderen im Gefolge. Diese Furcht und Angst\nder Leute brachte sie auf tausend t\u00f6richte, abgeschmackte und schlimme\nDinge, wozu sie von den wirklich b\u00f6sen Elementen noch ermutigt\nwurden. Sie rannten zu Wahrsagern, Hexenmeistern und Astrologen, um\nihr Schicksal zu erfahren oder, wie man gew\u00f6hnlich es nennt, um sich\nihr Schicksal sagen und sich die Nativit\u00e4t stellen zu lassen und zu\n\u00e4hnlichem Unsinn, und diese Narretei brachte in der Stadt im Augenblick\neinen Schwarm vorgeblicher Magier hervor, die sich der Schwarzen\nKunst und wei\u00df Gott, was sonst noch alles, r\u00fchmten und behaupteten,\nmit dem Teufel besser zu stehen, als es wohl wirklich der Fall war.\nDieses Gesch\u00e4ft wurde so offen und allgemein betrieben, da\u00df man an den\nT\u00fcren Anzeigen lesen konnte: Hier wohnt ein Wahrsager; hier wohnt ein\nAstrologe; hier wird die Nativit\u00e4t ausgerechnet. Der Bronzekopf Bruder\nBacons, das gew\u00f6hnliche Zeichen solcher Art Leute, war fast \u00fcberall in\njeder Stra\u00dfe zu sehen, oder auch das Zeichen der Mutter Shipton oder\nder Kopf Merlins und mehr dergleichen.\nMit was f\u00fcr sinnlosem und l\u00e4cherlichem Bl\u00f6dsinn diese Teufelsorakel\ndie Leute zu ihrer Befriedigung vollstopften, wei\u00df ich zwar nicht,\naber sicher ist, da\u00df jeden Tag zahllose Menschen vor ihren T\u00fcren sich\nherumdr\u00e4ngten, und sobald sich nur einer dieser Burschen in einer\nSamtjacke und schwarzem Mantel, der gew\u00f6hnlichen Kleidung dieser\nBeschw\u00f6rer, auf der Stra\u00dfe zeigte, folgten ihm die Leute in Scharen und\nstellten w\u00e4hrend des Gehens allerlei Fragen. --\nDie armen Dienstboten hatten eine recht schlechte Zeit, wie ich noch\nnach und nach berichten werde. Es war vorauszusehen, da\u00df eine ungeheure\nAnzahl von ihnen entlassen w\u00fcrde, und tats\u00e4chlich war es auch so. Eine\nMenge von ihnen gingen zugrunde, besonders die, denen die falschen\nWahrsager Hoffnungen gemacht hatten, da\u00df sie im Dienst bleiben und von\nihren Herrschaften aufs Land mitgenommen werden w\u00fcrden. H\u00e4tte sich\nnicht die \u00f6ffentliche Wohlt\u00e4tigkeit dieser armen Gesch\u00f6pfe angenommen,\nwie es sich auch geh\u00f6rt in solchen F\u00e4llen, so w\u00e4ren sie von der ganzen\nBev\u00f6lkerung in der allerschlechtesten Lage gewesen. --\nMit solchen Dingen besch\u00e4ftigte sich das gew\u00f6hnliche Volk monatelang,\nals die Sorgen erst anfingen und die Pest noch nicht richtig\nausgebrochen war, aber ich darf auch nicht vergessen, da\u00df der bessere\nTeil der Bev\u00f6lkerung sich ganz anders benahm. Die Regierung ermutigte\nihre Andachts\u00fcbungen, und bestimmte \u00f6ffentliche Gebets-, Bu\u00df- und\nFasttage, an denen die S\u00fcnden laut bekannt und die Gnade Gottes\nangerufen wurde, um sein schreckliches Gericht, das \u00fcber unseren\nK\u00f6pfen hing, abzuwenden. Man kann kaum beschreiben, mit welcher\nBereitwilligkeit die Leute aller Berufe diese Gelegenheit begr\u00fc\u00dften,\nwie sie sich in die Kirchen und zu den Versammlungen dr\u00e4ngten, da\u00df\nman nicht bis zu den T\u00fcren der allergr\u00f6\u00dften Kirchen gelangen konnte.\nIn mehreren Kirchen wurden morgens und abends t\u00e4glich Bittgebete\nabgehalten, ebenso wie Gebetstage an anderen Orten, und zu allen diesen\nVeranstaltungen erschienen die Leute mit ungew\u00f6hnlicher Andacht. Auch\neinzelne Familien, selbst wenn sie nicht desselben Glaubens waren,\nhielten Fasttage, zu welchen nur die n\u00e4chsten Verwandten zugelassen\nwaren. Mit einem Wort: alle, die wirklich fromm und glaubenseifrig\nwaren, gaben sich in echt christlicher Weise dem Werk der Reue und\nBu\u00dffertigkeit hin, wie es einem christlichen Volke geziemte.\nAuch die \u00d6ffentlichkeit zeigte, da\u00df sie sich an diesen Dingen\nbeteiligen wolle, ja sogar der Hof, der in aller Lust und Freude lebte,\nstellte sich, als ob ihn die allgemeine Gefahr wirklich bek\u00fcmmerte.\nSchauspiele und Possen, die, nach der Mode am franz\u00f6sischen Hofe,\neingef\u00fchrt worden waren und immer beliebter wurden, durften nicht\nmehr gespielt werden. Die Spiel- und Tanzh\u00e4user wie die Musikhallen,\ndie sich st\u00e4ndig vermehrt hatten und bereits die Sitten des Volkes\nzu untergraben drohten, mu\u00dften geschlossen werden, und die Kasperl-\nund Marionettentheater, Seilt\u00e4nzer und was dergleichen Leute mehr\nsind, die beim gew\u00f6hnlichen Volke beliebt sind, machten selbst zu, da\nniemand mehr etwas von ihnen wissen wollte. Denn die Leute hatten nun\nan anderes zu denken, Grausen und Sorge malten sich auf den Gesichtern\nselbst der Rohesten. Alle hatten den Tod vor Augen, und jedem war nun\ndas Grab n\u00e4her als Lustbarkeit und Unterhaltung.\nDas waren wohl heilsame Betrachtungen, die, wenn man es richtig\nverstanden h\u00e4tte, das Volk auf seine Knie gezwungen h\u00e4tte, um seine\nS\u00fcnden zu bekennen und den barmherzigen Sch\u00f6pfer um Gnade anzurufen und\nsein Mitleid in solcher Zeit der Heimsuchung zu erflehen, wie es einst\nin Ninive geschah. Aber beim niederen Volke schlugen sie nun ins andere\nExtrem um. Zuvor schon gedankenlos und leichtfertig, griff es nun in\nseiner Unwissenheit, Torheit und Angst zu den sinnlosesten Mitteln. Es\nlief, wie schon erw\u00e4hnt, um die Zukunft zu erfahren, zu Beschw\u00f6rern,\nHexenmeistern und sonstigen Schwindlern, die es in best\u00e4ndiger Furcht\nund Unruhe erhielten, um Geld aus ihm herauszulocken. Ebenso wild\nwar es hinter Quacksalbern und Marktschreiern her und lie\u00df sich\nvon jedem alten Kr\u00e4uterweib mit Pillen, Tr\u00e4nken und Schutzmitteln\nvollstopfen, da\u00df nicht nur das Geld hinausflog, sondern auch statt des\nSeuchengiftes ein anderes Gift in den K\u00f6rper hineinkam. So machten\ndie, die sich vor der Pest sch\u00fctzen wollten, sich erst recht f\u00fcr die\nAnsteckung empf\u00e4nglich. Anderseits kann man es kaum glauben oder sich\nvorstellen, wie die Stra\u00dfenecken und Hausw\u00e4nde \u00fcber und \u00fcber mit\nAnschlagzetteln von \u00c4rzten bedeckt waren, mit Anzeigen von unwissenden,\nquacksalbernden Burschen, die die Leute einluden, sie aufzusuchen und\nihnen Schutzmittel anpriesen. Die Sprache solcher Anpreisungen war echt\nmarktschreierisch. Z. B.: Unfehlbar vorbeugende Pillen gegen die Pest;\nuntr\u00fcgliche Schutzmittel gegen die Ansteckung; h\u00f6chst vortreffliche\nTr\u00e4nke gegen die F\u00e4ulnis der Luft; genaue Anweisung sich im Falle der\nAnsteckung zu verhalten; Antipestpillen; unvergleichliche noch niemals\nzusammengestellte Mixtur gegen die Seuche; Universalmittel gegen die\nPest; das einzig echte Pestwasser; das k\u00f6nigliche Gegenmittel gegen\nalle Arten der Ansteckung, und noch eine ganze Anzahl mehr, die ich\nnicht anf\u00fchren kann, da ich sonst ein eigenes Buch schreiben m\u00fc\u00dfte.\nAndere wieder klebten Anzeigen an, um sich den Leuten f\u00fcr Rat und Hilfe\nim Falle der Ansteckung zu empfehlen. Auch da gab es Titel, die sich\ngewaschen hatten, wie die folgenden:\nHervorragender hochdeutscher Arzt, eben von Holland gekommen, wo er\nsich w\u00e4hrend des ganzen Verlaufs der gro\u00dfen Pest aufhielt, letztes Jahr\nin Amsterdam, hat Haufen von Leuten geheilt, die wahrhaftig an der Pest\nerkrankt waren.\nItalienerin von Stande, gerade von Neapel angelangt, besitzt ein\nbesonderes Geheimnis, um die Ansteckung zu verhindern, das sie durch\nihre tiefe Wissenschaft entdeckte, und womit sie bei der letzten Pest,\nan der 20000 in einem Tage starben, wundervolle Kuren vollf\u00fchrte.\nAlte Dame, die mit gro\u00dfem Erfolg w\u00e4hrend der Londoner Seuche von 1636\nihre Kunst aus\u00fcbte, gibt Rat nur an Frauen. Sprechstunde usw.\nErfahrener Arzt, der lange das Studium der Gegenmittel gegen alle Arten\nvon Giften und Ansteckungen betrieb, hat sich nach vierzigj\u00e4hriger\nPraxis eine solche Geschicklichkeit erworben, da\u00df er, mit Gottes Hilfe,\njedermann vor der Ansteckung irgend welcher Seuche sch\u00fctzen kann. Arme\nwerden umsonst behandelt.\nIch f\u00fchre das nur als Beispiele an, von denen ich noch ein paar\nDutzend geben k\u00f6nnte, ohne meinen Vorrat zu ersch\u00f6pfen. Doch m\u00f6gen\ndiese gen\u00fcgen, um einen Begriff von der Gem\u00fctsverfassung dieser Zeit\nzu geben. Nicht nur, da\u00df ein Haufen von Schwindlern und Geldschneidern\nden armen betrogenen Leuten das Geld aus der Tasche stahl, wurden sie\nauch mit gr\u00e4ulichen und gef\u00e4hrlichen Mitteln vergiftet. Einige mit\nQuecksilber, andere mit ebenso sch\u00e4dlichem Zeug, das weit entfernt\nwar, die versprochenen Wirkungen hervorzubringen und im Falle einer\nAnsteckung dem K\u00f6rper eher schadete als n\u00fctzte.\nDoch von einem Schlich eines dieser Quacksalber mu\u00df ich doch noch\nerz\u00e4hlen, mit dem er die armen Teufel an sich heranlockte und sie um\nihr Geld brachte. In einem Nachtrag stand auf den Zetteln, die er auf\nder Stra\u00dfe austeilte, in dickgedruckten Buchstaben: Behandlung der\nKranken umsonst.\nNat\u00fcrlich dr\u00e4ngten sich die Leute zu ihm, worauf er ihnen die sch\u00f6nsten\nReden hielt, sie auch auf ihren Gesundheitszustand hin untersuchte\nund ihnen manche Ratschl\u00e4ge gab, die freilich nicht viel wert waren.\nSie kamen immer darauf hinaus, da\u00df er eine Medizin besitze, die\nallmorgendlich genommen, jeden, bei Verpf\u00e4ndung von des Doktors Leben,\nvor der Pest sch\u00fctzen w\u00fcrde, selbst wenn er mit kranken Leuten in einem\nHause wohnte. Nat\u00fcrlich brannten nun alle darauf, dieses Mittel zu\nhaben, aber der Preis war sehr hoch, ich glaube, 2\u00bd Schillinge. \u00bbAber\nHerr,\u00ab sagte eine arme Frau, \u00bbich bin eine Armenh\u00e4uslerin, und werde\nvom Kirchspiel erhalten, und Ihr sagt, da\u00df die Armen Eure Hilfe umsonst\nhaben.\u00ab -- \u00bbSo ist es, gute Frau,\u00ab entgegnete der Doktor, \u00bbwie\u2019s hier\ngedruckt steht: ich gebe meinen Rat, aber nicht meine Medizin!\u00ab --\n\u00bbDann, Herr,\u00ab sagt sie, \u00bbist es eine Schlinge f\u00fcr die Armen; Ihr gebt\nihnen wohl Euren Rat umsonst, n\u00e4mlich den Rat, Eure Medizin f\u00fcr ihr\nGeld zu kaufen, wie es jeder H\u00e4ndler mit seinen Waren macht.\u00ab Darauf\nfing sie zu schimpfen an und blieb den ganzen Tag vor seiner T\u00fcre\nstehen, indem sie allem Volk, das kam, ihre Geschichte erz\u00e4hlte, bis\nder Doktor, als er sah, da\u00df sie ihm alle Kunden vertrieb, sich gen\u00f6tigt\nsah, sie nach oben zu rufen und ihr eine Schachtel seiner Medizin f\u00fcr\nnichts zu geben, die ihr wahrscheinlich auch zu nichts taugte.\nAber die Verwirrung, in der sich das Volk befand, war eben geeignet,\nes f\u00fcr das Gerede jedes Schwindlers empf\u00e4nglich zu machen. Zweifellos\nzogen diese quacksalbernden Burschen einen gro\u00dfen Gewinn aus der\nTorheit der bejammernswerten Leute, denn das Gedr\u00e4nge vor ihren T\u00fcren\nund das Gelaufe zu ihnen war viel gr\u00f6\u00dfer als vor den Wohnungen von Dr.\nBrooks, Dr. Upton, Dr. Hodges, Dr. Berwick oder sonst irgendeinem der\ndamals ber\u00fchmtesten \u00c4rzte, und ich habe mir sagen lassen, da\u00df einige\ndieser Marktschreier durch ihre Medizinen nicht weniger als 5 Pfund im\nTage verdienten.\nAber noch eine andere Verr\u00fccktheit gab es, die \u00fcber all dies\nhinausging, und eine gute Vorstellung von dem vertrackten Gem\u00fctszustand\ndes Volkes in jener Zeit gibt. Es lief noch hinter einem weit\nschlimmeren Pack von Betr\u00fcgern her als alle die schon erw\u00e4hnten waren,\ndie es doch nur t\u00e4uschten, um Geld aus ihm herauszuziehen, so da\u00df die\nSchlechtigkeit ganz auf ihrer Seite war und nicht bei den Betrogenen.\nBei dem aber, was ich jetzt erz\u00e4hlen werde, waren beide Teile gleich\nschuldig. Das war das Tragen von Amuletten, Beschw\u00f6rungsformeln,\nZaubermitteln und, was wei\u00df ich, sonst noch f\u00fcr Zeug, um den K\u00f6rper\ngegen die Seuche \u00bbfest\u00ab zu machen, so als ob die Pest nicht von Gott\ngeschickt worden w\u00e4re, sondern gleichsam von einem b\u00f6sen Geiste\nhervorgebracht w\u00fcrde, gegen den man sich durch kreuzf\u00f6rmige Striche,\nastrologische Zeichen, mit so und so vielen Knoten zusammengebundene\nPapiere, auf die gewisse Worte und Zeichen geschrieben waren, sch\u00fctzen\nk\u00f6nne. F\u00fcr besonders wirksam galt das Wort Abracadabra, dreiecks- oder\npyramidenf\u00f6rmig geschrieben, so n\u00e4mlich:\n    ~A B R A C A D A B R A\n      A B R A C A D A B R\nAndere trugen das Zeichen der Jesuiten in einem Kreuz:\nund noch andere machten nichts als ein gleichschenkeliges Kreuz:\nIch k\u00f6nnte einen gro\u00dfen Teil meiner Zeit aufwenden, um gegen solche\nNarrheiten zu eifern, denn sie bedeuten wirklich eine Leichtfertigkeit\nin einer Zeit derartiger Gefahr und Volksverseuchung, aber meine\nAufzeichnungen wollen haupts\u00e4chlich die Tatsache als solche festlegen.\nWie viele dieser armen Teufel sp\u00e4ter die Wirkungslosigkeit von all\ndiesem Zeug herausfanden, wie viele in den Leichenkarren fortgeschafft\nund mitsamt ihren Amuletten und ihrem teuflischen Quark um den Hals in\ndie Massengr\u00e4ber geworfen wurden, das wird im folgenden noch besprochen\nwerden.\nAlles dies war die Folge von der Kopflosigkeit, die das Volk ergriffen\nhatte, nachdem das erste Ger\u00fccht von der Pest sich ausbreitete, also\nungef\u00e4hr um Michaeli 1664, dann besonders, als die beiden M\u00e4nner in St.\nGiles Anfang Dezember starben, und sp\u00e4ter noch einmal im Februar. Denn\nals nun die Seuche offenbar weiter um sich griff, begannen die Leute\nbald den Unsinn einzusehen, sich solchen unn\u00fctzen Kerlen anzuvertrauen,\ndie ihnen nur das Geld aus der Tasche zogen. Dann schlug ihre Angst in\nStumpfheit und eine Art von F\u00fchllosigkeit um, da sie nicht wu\u00dften, was\nsie tun oder lassen sollten, um sich Erleichterung zu verschaffen. Sie\nrannten von einem Nachbarn zum andern, oder auch in den Stra\u00dfen herum,\nvon einer T\u00fcr zur andern und riefen fortw\u00e4hrend: Herr, hab\u2019 Mitleid mit\nuns, was sollen wir tun?\nIch glaube jetzt selbst, da\u00df gleich nach dem ersten Auftreten der\nSeuche die Beh\u00f6rden die Lage des Volkes in ernsthafte Erw\u00e4gung zogen.\nIch werde gleich berichten, was geschah, um die Ordnung in Hinsicht auf\ndie Bev\u00f6lkerung und die verseuchten Familien aufrechtzuerhalten. Aber\nwas den geistigen Gesundheitszustand anbetrifft, mu\u00df erw\u00e4hnt werden,\nda\u00df ich selbst das verr\u00fcckte Wesen der Leute beobachtet habe, die wie\nWahnsinnige hinter den Quacksalbern, Schwindlern, Wahrsagern und\nHexenmeistern her waren. Der Lordmayor, ein sehr gewissenhafter und\nfrommer Mann, bestimmte \u00c4rzte und Bader zur Hilfe f\u00fcr die Armen, wenn\nsie krank wurden und befahl insbesondere dem \u00c4rztekollegium, Leits\u00e4tze\nf\u00fcr billige Heilmittel bei allen Symptomen der Seuche herauszugeben.\nDas war auch wirklich eine der besten und richtigsten Ma\u00dfregeln, die zu\njener Zeit getroffen werden konnte; denn dadurch vertrieb man das Volk\nvon den T\u00fcren der Quacksalber und bewahrte es davor, jedes Gift wahllos\nals Medizin hinunterzuschlucken und sich den Tod statt der Genesung zu\nholen.\nDie Anweisung der \u00c4rzte wurde in einer Sitzung des ganzen Kollegiums\nausgearbeitet, und da sie haupts\u00e4chlich zum Gebrauch der Armen und zur\nAnwendung billiger Heilmittel berechnet war, wurde sie ver\u00f6ffentlicht\nund Abz\u00fcge an jeden gegeben, der davon haben wollte. Da sie \u00fcberall\nim Wortlaut zu lesen ist, brauche ich den Leser damit nicht weiter zu\nbel\u00e4stigen.\nNoch mu\u00df ich schildern, welche Ma\u00dfregeln von den Beh\u00f6rden f\u00fcr die\nallgemeine Wohlfahrt getroffen wurden, um die Weiterverbreitung der\nSeuche zu verhindern, wenn sie einmal ausgebrochen war. Ich werde oft\ngenug Veranlassung haben, von der Umsicht der Beh\u00f6rden zu reden, ihrer\nWohlt\u00e4tigkeit und Sorgfalt f\u00fcr die Armen, ihrem Bem\u00fchen, die Ordnung\naufrechtzuerhalten, Nahrungsmittel herbeizuschaffen und dergleichen\nmehr, als die Seuche nun wirklich zunahm. Aber zuerst will ich die\nMa\u00dfregeln beschreiben, die f\u00fcr die verseuchten Familien in Kraft traten.\nIch erw\u00e4hnte schon fr\u00fcher das Absperren der H\u00e4user, und es mu\u00df gerade\ndar\u00fcber mehr gesagt werden. Wenn auch dieser Teil der Geschichte der\nPest vielleicht der allertraurigste ist. Aber auch das \u00c4rgste darf\nnicht verschwiegen werden.\nAnfang Juni etwa begannen der Lordmayor von London und das\nRatskollegium ihr besonderes Augenmerk auf die Ordnung in der Stadt zu\nrichten.\nDie Friedensrichter von Middlesex hatten im Auftrage des\nStaatssekret\u00e4rs die Absperrung der H\u00e4user in den Kirchspielen von\nSt. Giles in the Fields, St. Martin, St. Clement Danes usw. verf\u00fcgt,\nund zwar mit gutem Erfolge. Denn in mehreren Stra\u00dfen, wo die Seuche\nausgebrochen war, erlosch sie wieder, als man die verseuchten H\u00e4user\nstreng bewachte und daf\u00fcr sorgte, da\u00df die Verstorbenen sofort nach\nihrem Tode begraben wurden. Es wurde auch beobachtet, da\u00df die Pest\nfr\u00fcher in jenen Kirchspielen nachlie\u00df, wo sie zuerst am heftigsten\ngew\u00fctet hatte, als in Bishopsgate, Shoreditch, Aldgate, Whitechapel,\nStepney und anderen, und es zeigte sich, da\u00df die dort fr\u00fchzeitig\nergriffenen Ma\u00dfregeln ein gutes Mittel waren, der Seuche Einhalt zu tun.\nDie Absperrung der H\u00e4user war eine Ma\u00dfregel, die, soweit ich\nunterrichtet bin, zum ersten Male w\u00e4hrend der Pest von 1603, als\nK\u00f6nig Jakob I. auf den Thron kam, angewendet wurde. Damals wurde die\nVollmacht, Leute in ihren eigenen H\u00e4usern abzusperren, durch eine\nParlamentsakte gew\u00e4hrleistet, deren Titel lautete: Beschlu\u00df \u00fcber die\nmildt\u00e4tige Unterst\u00fctzung und Behandlung von an der Pest erkrankten\nPersonen. Auf diese Parlamentsakte st\u00fctzte sich die Anordnung des\nLordmayors von London und des Ratskollegiums, die am 1. Juli 1665\nherauskam, als die Zahl der Verseuchten innerhalb der City noch klein\nwar. Sie betrug damals f\u00fcr die 92 Kirchspiele nur vier. Einige H\u00e4user\nwaren bereits abgesperrt worden, und mehrere Kranke hatte man in das\nPesthaus \u00fcber Bunhill Fields hinaus, auf dem Wege nach Islington,\ngebracht. Durch derartige Ma\u00dfregeln hatte man erreicht, da\u00df die\nSterblichkeit in der City sich auf nicht mehr als 28 belief, w\u00e4hrend\ndie Gesamtsterblichkeit innerhalb einer Woche schon an ein Tausend\nging. So war die City verh\u00e4ltnism\u00e4\u00dfig besser dran als irgendein\nStadtteil w\u00e4hrend der ganzen Pestzeit.\nDiese Verf\u00fcgungen des Lordmayors wurden gegen Ende Juni ver\u00f6ffentlicht\nund traten am 1. Juli in Kraft. Sie lauteten:\n    Beschlu\u00df beraten und herausgegeben vom Lordmayor und\n    Ratskollegium der Stadt London in Betreff der Ansteckung durch\n    Nachdem w\u00e4hrend der Regierung des K\u00f6nigs Jakob, gl\u00fccklichen\n    Gedenkens, eine Parlamentsakte erschien \u00fcber die mildt\u00e4tige\n    Unterst\u00fctzung und Behandlung von an der Pest erkrankten\n    Personen, wodurch den Friedensrichtern, B\u00fcrgermeistern,\n    Landv\u00f6gten und anderen Oberbeh\u00f6rden Gewalt verliehen wurde,\n    innerhalb ihres Amtsbezirkes Leichenbeschauer, Visitatoren,\n    Wachleute, Aufseher und Totengr\u00e4ber zu bestimmen f\u00fcr die\n    verseuchten Personen und Orte und sie auf die Pflichten\n    ihres Ortes zu vereidigen, das gleiche Gesetz sie auch\n    erm\u00e4chtigte, weitere Verf\u00fcgungen zu treffen, die ihnen in der\n    gegenw\u00e4rtigen Notlage als w\u00fcnschenswert erscheinen m\u00f6chten,\n    so wird hiermit nach reiflicher \u00dcberlegung als besonders\n    wirksam zur Verhinderung und Vermeidung der Ansteckung (so es\n    dem allm\u00e4chtigen Gott gef\u00e4llt) verordnet, da\u00df die folgenden\n    Amtspersonen ernannt und die Verf\u00fcgungen genau beobachtet\n    werden.\n    In jedem Kirchspiel zu ernennende Visitatoren\n    Erstlich erscheint es erforderlich und wird hiermit verf\u00fcgt,\n    da\u00df in jedem Kirchspiel ein, zwei oder mehr Personen von\n    gutem Ruf und Ansehen durch den Ratsherrn, seinen Vertreter\n    und das Pflegschaftsgericht unter dem Namen von Visitatoren\n    verpflichtet werden, um in ihrem Amte f\u00fcr die Mindestdauer von\n    zwei Monaten zu bleiben; da\u00df ferner jede dazu taugliche Person,\n    so sie sich weigern sollte, ihr Amt zu \u00fcbernehmen, gefangen\n    gesetzt w\u00fcrde, bis sie ihre Zustimmung erkl\u00e4ren sollte.\n    Amtsbefugnisse der Visitatoren\n    Da\u00df diese Visitatoren durch die Ratsm\u00e4nner in geschworne\n    Pflicht genommen werden, von Zeit zu Zeit zu untersuchen und\n    auszuforschen, welche H\u00e4user in jedem Kirchspiel verseucht,\n    welche Personen und an welchen \u00dcbeln sie erkrankt seien,\n    und zwar nach bestem Wissen und Gewissen, und da\u00df sie in\n    zweifelhaften F\u00e4llen sich zwangsweise Eintritt verschaffen,\n    bis die Art der Erkrankung festgestellt ist; da\u00df sie ferner,\n    wenn eine Person an der Seuche erkrankt sollte befunden werden,\n    dem Konstabler befehlen, das Haus abzusperren, und falls\n    solcher als nachl\u00e4ssig befunden werden sollte, dies sofort dem\n    Pflegschaftsrichter zur Anzeige bringen.\n    W\u00e4chter\n    Da\u00df f\u00fcr jedes verseuchte Haus zwei W\u00e4chter bestellt werden,\n    einer f\u00fcr den Tag, der andere f\u00fcr die Nacht, und da\u00df diese\n    W\u00e4chter daf\u00fcr zu sorgen haben, da\u00df kein Mensch ein solches\n    verseuchtes Haus, das sie zu bewachen haben, betrete oder\n    verlasse, bei Androhung schwerer Strafe. Auch haben besagte\n    W\u00e4chter solche Hilfe zu leisten, als in dem verseuchten\n    Hause verlangt und gefordert werde und, falls sie zur\n    Ausf\u00fchrung irgendeines Auftrages weggeschickt werden, das Haus\n    abzuschlie\u00dfen und den Schl\u00fcssel mit sich zu nehmen. Und hat der\n    Tagw\u00e4chter seinen Dienst bis 10 Uhr abends zu versehen, der\n    Nachtw\u00e4chter bis 6 Uhr des Morgens.\n    Leichenbeschauer\n    Da\u00df besondere Sorge darauf gerichtet werde, weibliche\n    Leichenbeschauer in jedem Kirchspiel zu ernennen, die als\n    anst\u00e4ndig bekannt sind und am besten dazu geeignet, und da\u00df sie\n    eidlich verpflichtet werden, ihr Amt nach bestem Wissen und\n    Gewissen auszuf\u00fchren und wahrheitsgem\u00e4\u00dfe Berichte abzustatten,\n    ob die von ihnen untersuchten Personen an der Pest oder an\n    was sonst f\u00fcr Krankheiten gestorben sind, und da\u00df die \u00c4rzte,\n    die zur Behandlung und Verhinderung der Ansteckung ernannt\n    wurden, besagte Leichenbeschauerinnen herbeiholen, die f\u00fcr die\n    unter ihrer Aufsicht stehenden Kirchspiele bestimmt wurden\n    oder werden, um zu entscheiden, ob sie f\u00fcr ihr Amt geeignet\n    seien, und sie von Zeit zu Zeit nach Bedarf ermahnen, falls sie\n    nachl\u00e4ssig in der Aus\u00fcbung ihrer Pflichten befunden werden.\n    Da\u00df w\u00e4hrend der Dauer der Seuche keine Leichenbeschauerin\n    soll befugt sein, irgendeinen \u00f6ffentlichen Beruf auszu\u00fcben,\n    einen Laden oder Stand zu halten, oder als W\u00e4scherin oder in\n    irgendeiner sonstigen Besch\u00e4ftigung zu arbeiten.\n    Wund\u00e4rzte\n    Zur Unterst\u00fctzung der Leichenbeschauer und infolge der gro\u00dfen\n    Unzutr\u00e4glichkeiten bei falschen Angaben \u00fcber die Seuche,\n    die zur Ausbreitung der Ansteckung f\u00fchrten, wird hiermit\n    verf\u00fcgt, da\u00df f\u00e4hige und zuverl\u00e4ssige Wund\u00e4rzte au\u00dfer jenen,\n    die bereits dem Pesthaus angegliedert sind, bestimmt werden,\n    und die auf die City und die \u00e4u\u00dferen Bezirke, je nach Bedarf\n    und Zweckm\u00e4\u00dfigkeit zu verteilen sein sollen, so da\u00df jeder von\n    ihnen ein Quartier als Amtsbezirk habe, und sollen besagte\n    Wund\u00e4rzte in ihren Bezirken zusammen mit den Leichenbeschauern\n    die Aufsicht \u00fcber die Leichen aus\u00fcben, um dadurch einen\n    wahrhaftigen Bericht \u00fcber die Seuche zu gew\u00e4hrleisten.\n    Und ferner, da\u00df besagte Wund\u00e4rzte sollen aufsuchen und\n    untersuchen alle Personen, die sie holen lassen, oder von\n    den Visitatoren in jedem Kirchspiel ihnen bezeichnet oder\n    angewiesen werden, um sich \u00fcber die Krankheit obiger Personen\n    zu unterrichten.\n    Und desweilen besagte Wund\u00e4rzte alle sonstigen Behandlungen\n    sollen aufzugeben gehalten sein und ausschlie\u00dflich f\u00fcr die\n    Seuche verwendet werden, wird verf\u00fcgt, da\u00df jeder der besagten\n    Wund\u00e4rzte f\u00fcr eine jede besichtigte Leiche 12 Pence erhalten\n    soll, die aus dem Verm\u00f6gen der betr. Familie genommen werden\n    sollen, wenn sie zahlungsf\u00e4hig ist, und sonst dem Kirchspiel\n    zur Last fallen.\n    Pflegew\u00e4rterinnen\n    So eine Pflegew\u00e4rterin sich aus einem verseuchten Hause\n    entfernt, ehe 28 Tage seit dem Hinscheiden irgendeiner an der\n    Seuche verstorbenen Person vergangen sind, soll das Haus, in\n    das besagte Pflegew\u00e4rterin verzogen, f\u00fcr 28 Tage abgesperrt\n    werden.\n    Verf\u00fcgungen betreffend verseuchte H\u00e4user und die an der Pest\n    Erkrankten\n    Anzeigepflicht von Krankheiten\n    Jeder Hausherr ist verpflichtet, sobald ein Inwohner seines\n    Hauses \u00fcber Beulen, rote Flecken oder Schwellungen an\n    irgendeinem Teile seines K\u00f6rpers klagt, oder ohne klares\n    Anzeichen eines anderen Leidens in schwere Krankheit verf\u00e4llt,\n    davon sofort dem Gesundheitsvisitator Anzeige zu erstatten\n    binnen zwei Stunden, nachdem erw\u00e4hnte Erscheinungen eingetreten\n    sind.\n    Absonderung der Kranken\n    Sobald irgend jemand als pestverd\u00e4chtig von seinem Visitator,\n    Wundarzt oder einem Leichenbeschauer angezeigt wird, soll er\n    noch dieselbe Nacht in dem gleichen Hause abgesondert werden,\n    und nachdem dies geschehen, soll das Haus, auch wenn es sich\n    nicht um einen Todesfall handelt, f\u00fcr einen Monat abgesperrt\n    werden, nach Gebrauch wirksamer Vorbeugungsmittel von seiten\n    der anderen Inwohner.\n    Ausr\u00e4ucherung des Hausrats\n    Die Bettsachen, Kleider und Vorh\u00e4nge der Verseuchten sind zu\n    beschlagnahmen und mit Feuer gut auszur\u00e4uchern mit solchem\n    R\u00e4ucherwerk, als dazu geeignet erscheint, innerhalb des\n    verseuchten Hauses, ehe sie wieder in Gebrauch genommen werden\n    d\u00fcrfen. Und soll das nach Verf\u00fcgung des Visitators ausgef\u00fchrt\n    werden.\n    Absperrung der H\u00e4user\n    Wer immer irgend jemand besucht, der an der Pest verseucht\n    ist oder freiwillig sich in ein als verseucht bekanntes Haus\n    begibt, ohne dazu Erlaubnis zu haben, dessen Haus soll f\u00fcr eine\n    gewisse Zeit auf Anordnung des Visitators abgesperrt werden.\n    Niemand darf aus einem verseuchten Hause entfernt werden usw.\n    Desgleichen soll niemand aus dem Hause entfernt werden, wo er\n    angesteckt wurde, noch in irgendein anderes Haus in der Stadt\n    gebracht werden (au\u00dfer in das Pesthaus oder eine Baracke oder\n    ein solches Haus, das dem Besitzer besagten Hauses zugeh\u00f6rt\n    und nur von seiner eigenen Dienerschaft bewohnt wird) und\n    soll zur Sicherheit des betr. Kirchspiels, wohin solcher\n    Umzug stattfindet, unter genauer Beobachtung aller bereits\n    erw\u00e4hnten Verordnungen und geh\u00f6riger Aufsicht der Umzug bei\n    Nacht ausgef\u00fchrt werden, ohne da\u00df daraus dem Kirchspiel\n    irgendwelche Kosten erwachsen d\u00fcrfen; und soll es jeder Person,\n    die im Besitze von zwei H\u00e4usern ist, erlaubt sein, die gesunden\n    oder verseuchten Insassen nach seiner Wahl in das andere Haus\n    zu verlegen, derma\u00dfen, da\u00df, wenn er die Gesunden entfernt,\n    Verseuchte nachzuschicken ihm soll verboten sein und umgekehrt,\n    und da\u00df jene, die er fortschickt, zum mindesten f\u00fcr eine Woche\n    sollen abgesperrt und von jeder Gesellschaft abgesondert\n    werden, aus Vorsicht vor jeder noch nicht sichtbaren Ansteckung.\n    Begr\u00e4bnis der Toten\n    Da\u00df das Begr\u00e4bnis der Toten w\u00e4hrend der Zeit dieser Seuche\n    solle stattfinden zu den passendsten Stunden, stets vor\n    Sonnenaufgang oder nach Sonnenuntergang im Beisein des\n    Kirchenvorstehers oder Konstablers und keines andern, und soll\n    es weder Nachbarn noch Freunden erlaubt sein, die Leiche zu der\n    Kirche zu begleiten oder das verseuchte Haus zu betreten bei\n    Gef\u00e4ngnisstrafe oder Absperrung des eigenen Hauses.\n    Auch da\u00df keine Leiche eines an der Seuche Verstorbenen soll\n    begraben werden oder in einer Kirche bleiben d\u00fcrfen zur Zeit\n    des Gottesdienstes, der Predigt oder Christenlehre, ebenso, da\u00df\n    keinen Kindern soll erlaubt sein, w\u00e4hrend eines Begr\u00e4bnisses\n    in der Kirche, auf dem Kirchhof oder sonstigem Begr\u00e4bnisplatz\n    in die N\u00e4he der Leiche, des Sarges oder Grabes zu kommen, auch\n    da\u00df alle Gr\u00e4ber sollen zum mindesten sechs Fu\u00df tief sein.\n    Da\u00df ferner alle Versammlungen bei andern Begr\u00e4bnissen w\u00e4hrend\n    der Dauer der Seuche zu verbieten seien.\n    Verbot der Ver\u00e4u\u00dferung von verseuchten Gegenst\u00e4nden\n    Da\u00df es nicht erlaubt sein soll, Stoffe, Kleider, Bettzeug oder\n    Anz\u00fcge aus irgendeinem verseuchten Hause zu entfernen oder\n    herauszubringen, und da\u00df es den Versteigerern und Hausierern\n    von Bettzeug oder alten Kleidern aufs strengste verboten sein\n    soll, solches zu verkaufen oder auf Versatz zu belehnen,\n    auch es keinen Tr\u00f6dlern von Bettzeug und alten Kleidern\n    gestattet sein soll, solche \u00f6ffentlich auszuh\u00e4ngen vor ihren\n    Laden, St\u00e4nden oder hinter den Fenstern, die auf eine Stra\u00dfe,\n    Gasse, einen Durchgang oder \u00f6ffentlichen Platz gehen, bei\n    Gef\u00e4ngnisstrafe. Und soll jeder Tr\u00f6dler oder wer sonst immer,\n    der Bettzeug, Kleider oder dergleichen aus einem verseuchten\n    Hause kauft, innerhalb zweier Monate seit der Verseuchung, in\n    seinem Haus gleich als einem verseuchten abgesperrt werden, zum\n    mindesten f\u00fcr die Dauer von 20 Tagen.\n    Verbot der Wegschaffung aus einem verseuchten Hause\n    So irgend jemand durch Fahrl\u00e4ssigkeit oder auf andere Weise\n    von einem verseuchten Ort nach einem andern kommt oder\n    gebracht wird, soll das Kirchspiel, von wo er gekommen ist\n    oder gebracht wurde, auf die Anzeige davon, auf seine Kosten,\n    besagten Fl\u00fcchtling wieder bei Nacht zur\u00fcckbringen lassen, und\n    sollen die Schuldigen nach Verf\u00fcgung des Pflegschaftsrichters\n    bestraft, das Haus aber von dem, der den Besuch empfangen, f\u00fcr\n    20 Tage abgesperrt werden.\n    Anzeichnung der verseuchten H\u00e4user\n    Da\u00df jedes verseuchte Haus in der Mitte der T\u00fcr mit einem roten\n    Kreuz von einem Fu\u00df L\u00e4nge soll bezeichnet werden, da\u00df solches\n    \u00fcberall gesehen werden kann und soll in Druckschrift dicht \u00fcber\n    besagtes Kreuz der Spruch gesetzt werden: Herr, habe Mitleid\n    mit uns, und soll so lange dort bleiben, bis besagtes Haus\n    wieder rechtm\u00e4\u00dfig ge\u00f6ffnet wurde.\n    \u00dcber die Bewachung verseuchter H\u00e4user\n    Da\u00df die Konstabler sich \u00fcberzeugen sollen, da\u00df jedes verseuchte\n    Haus von W\u00e4chtern beobachtet wird, die die Eingeschlossenen\n    mit dem Notwendigsten versorgen, auf ihre Kosten und im Falle\n    des Unverm\u00f6gens auf Kosten der Allgemeinheit. Und soll das\n    Absperren der H\u00e4user vier Wochen dauern, nach Wiedereintritt\n    der Gesundheit.\n    Soll genau darauf geachtet werden, da\u00df Leichenbeschauer,\n    Wund\u00e4rzte, W\u00e4rter und Leichentr\u00e4ger sich nicht auf der Stra\u00dfe\n    zeigen, ohne einen roten Stab oder eine rote Gerte von drei Fu\u00df\n    L\u00e4nge offen und jedermann sichtbar in der Hand zu tragen, und\n    sollen sie gehalten sein, kein anderes Haus als ihr eigenes zu\n    betreten oder wohin sie gerufen und geholt werden; auch sollen\n    sie sich fern von jeder Gesellschaft halten, besonders wenn sie\n    k\u00fcrzlich in ihrem Berufe t\u00e4tig waren.\n    Hausbewohner\n    Soll, wo mehrere Insassen in ein und demselben Hause sind und\n    einer von ihnen von der Seuche ergriffen wird, es niemand aus\n    diesem Hause erlaubt sein, den Erkrankten oder sich selbst\n    zu entfernen ohne Gesundheitszeugnis von den Visitatoren des\n    Kirchspiels und soll im Verfehlungsfalle das Haus, wohin er\n    oder sie sich begeben, gerade so abgesperrt werden als im Falle\n    der Verseuchung.\n    \u00d6ffentliche Wagen\n    Sollen die Kutscher der \u00f6ffentlichen Wagen darauf achten, da\u00df\n    sie ihre Wagen nicht, wie schon manchmal beobachtet wurde,\n    nachdem sie verseuchte Personen zum Pesthaus oder nach andern\n    Pl\u00e4tzen gebracht haben, wieder in den allgemeinen Verkehr\n    stellen, ehe sie ordentlich durchr\u00e4uchert und f\u00fcr die Dauer von\n    5 oder 6 Tagen beiseite gestellt worden sind.\n    Verf\u00fcgungen \u00fcber die Stra\u00dfenreinigung\n    Die Stra\u00dfen m\u00fcssen rein gehalten werden.\n    Erstlich wird es f\u00fcr n\u00f6tig erachtet und daher bestimmt, da\u00df\n    jeder Hausbesitzer die Stra\u00dfe vor seiner T\u00fcr t\u00e4glich reinigen\n    lassen soll, und soll sie die ganze Woche lang ordentlich\n    gekehrt werden.\n    \u00dcber die Gassenkehrer\n    Soll der Kehricht und die Hausabf\u00e4lle t\u00e4glich von den\n    Stra\u00dfenkehrern weggebracht werden, und soll der Stra\u00dfenkehrer\n    auf seine Ankunft durch das Blasen eines Hornes aufmerksam\n    machen, wie es auch bisher geschah.\n    \u00dcber die Anlage von Abfallgruben\n    Sollen die Abfallgruben soweit als m\u00f6glich von der Stadt und\n    allen \u00f6ffentlichen Stra\u00dfen entfernt werden, und soll es keinem\n    Abtrittr\u00e4umer erlaubt sein, eine Tonne in eine Grube oder einen\n    Garten in der N\u00e4he der Stadt auszuleeren.\n    \u00dcber verdorbene Lebensmittel\n    Soll besonders darauf Bedacht genommen werden, da\u00df kein\n    riechender Fisch, verdorbenes Fleisch oder d\u00e4mpfiges Getreide\n    oder andere verdorbene Lebensmittel, welcher Art immer, in\n    irgendeinem Teile der Stadt verkauft werden.\n    Sollen die Brauereien und Schenken nach ungereinigten F\u00e4ssern\n    durchsucht werden.\n    Soll es verboten sein, Schweine, Hunde, Katzen, zahme Tauben\n    oder Kaninchen in irgendeinem Teile der Stadt zu halten, oder\n    Schweine in den Stra\u00dfen und Gassen frei laufen zu lassen,\n    und sollen solche Schweine von dem B\u00fcttel oder sonst einer\n    Amtsperson eingesperrt, der Besitzer aber bestraft werden nach\n    den Verordnungen des Stadtrats, und sollen die Hunde durch die\n    daf\u00fcr bestimmten Hundef\u00e4nger get\u00f6tet werden.\n    Verf\u00fcgungen betreffend liederliche Personen und unn\u00fctze\n    Gesellschaften. Bettler\n    Angesehen, da\u00df \u00fcber nichts mehr geklagt wird als die Menge der\n    Landstreicher und herumziehenden Vagabunden, die \u00fcberall um\n    die Stadt ihr Unwesen treiben und viel dazu tun, um die Seuche\n    zu verbreiten und trotz aller Verordnungen nicht weggeschafft\n    werden k\u00f6nnen, so wird hiermit verf\u00fcgt, da\u00df Polizeidiener und\n    andere, die es angeht, besonders Bedacht darauf nehmen, da\u00df\n    keinem herumziehenden Vagabunden das Betreten der Stra\u00dfen in\n    der Stadt erlaubt werde, und zwar unter keinem Vorwand, was\n    immer, und soll die festgesetzte Strafe nach der ganzen Strenge\n    des Gesetzes ihnen gegen\u00fcber zur Anwendung kommen.\n    Belustigungen\n    Sollen alle Belustigungen wie B\u00e4renhetzen, Kartenspiele, das\n    Singen von Moritaten u. dgl., die einen Auflauf von Menschen\n    verursachen, aufs strengste verboten sein, und sollen die\n    \u00dcbertreter von jedem Ratsherrn in seinem Bezirk schwer bestraft\n    werden.\n    \u00dcber Festessen\n    Sollen alle \u00f6ffentlichen Festessen, besonders jene der\n    st\u00e4dtischen Innungen, in Gast- und Bierh\u00e4usern und allen\n    sonstigen Orten f\u00fcr \u00f6ffentliche Zusammenk\u00fcnfte, bis auf\n    weiteres verboten sein, und soll das hierdurch ersparte Geld\n    zum Wohle der von der Seuche betroffenen Armen verwendet werden.\n    Schenken\n    Soll das unm\u00e4\u00dfige Zechen in Gasth\u00e4usern, Bierh\u00e4usern,\n    Kaffeeh\u00e4usern und Kellern aufs Ernstlichste getadelt werden,\n    als das allgemeine Laster unserer Zeit und bestes Mittel,\n    die Seuche zu verbreiten. Und soll es keiner Person oder\n    Gesellschaft erlaubt sein, ein Gasthaus, Bierhaus oder\n    Kaffeehaus zu betreten oder darin nach neun Uhr abends zu\n    verweilen, gem\u00e4\u00df dem alten Gesetz und Gebrauch dieser Stadt,\n    bei gesetzlicher Strafe.\n    Zur leichteren Durchf\u00fchrung dieser Verf\u00fcgungen und weiterer\n    Verordnungen, die nach genauer Erw\u00e4gung n\u00f6tig befunden\n    werden sollten, wird hiermit bestimmt, da\u00df die Ratsherrn,\n    ihre Vertreter sowie die Gemeindevertreter w\u00f6chentlich\n    zusammenkommen, und zwar einmal, zweimal, dreimal oder\n    \u00f6fter, je nach Notwendigkeit, an irgendeinem in ihren\n    Pflegschaftsbezirken \u00fcblichen, von jeder Ansteckung oder\n    Verseuchung freien, Orte, um zu beraten, auf welche Weise\n    besagte Verf\u00fcgungen zur Ausf\u00fchrung zu bringen sind. Und\n    sollen solche, die in oder nahe an verseuchten Pl\u00e4tzen\n    wohnen, ihr Kommen unterlassen. Und sollen besagte Ratsherrn,\n    Stellvertreter und Gemeindevertreter, in ihren verschiedenen\n    Bezirken alle Verf\u00fcgungen in Wirksamkeit setzen, die von ihnen\n    bei besagter Zusammenkunft beraten und zum Wohle von seiner\n    Majest\u00e4t Untertanen und zu ihrer Befreiung von der Seuche f\u00fcr\n    richtig gehalten worden sind.\n        Sir John Lawrence,    Lordmayor\n        Sir George Waterman }\n        Sir Charles Doe     } Sherifs.\nEs ist unn\u00f6tig zu sagen, da\u00df diese Verf\u00fcgungen nur jene Pl\u00e4tze\nbetrafen, die unter der Gerichtsbarkeit des Lordmayors standen, aber\ndie Friedensrichter der Kirchspiele, die zu der n\u00e4heren Umgebung und\nden Vorst\u00e4dten geh\u00f6rten, ergriffen die gleichen Ma\u00dfregeln. Freilich\nwurde zur Absperrung der H\u00e4user auf unserer Seite erst sp\u00e4ter\ngeschritten, weil, wie ich schon erz\u00e4hlt habe, die Pest nicht so bald\nzu uns kam und erst Anfang August ihre volle Heftigkeit entfaltete.\nAnfangs nannte man diese Absperrung der H\u00e4user eine recht grausame\nund unchristliche Ma\u00dfregel, und die solcherma\u00dfen eingesperrten Leute\nklagten aufs Bitterste; auch kamen t\u00e4glich die heftigsten Beschwerden\nan den Lordmayor \u00fcber zu Unrecht oder aus Bosheit abgesperrte H\u00e4user.\nDie Untersuchung ergab die Grundlosigkeit mancher Beschwerden; in\nandern F\u00e4llen zeigte sich, da\u00df die Krankheit nicht zu den ansteckenden\ngeh\u00f6rte, oder auch, da\u00df die Erkrankten, wennschon ihr Fall nicht sicher\nwar, eingewilligt hatten, nach dem Pesthause gebracht zu werden, worauf\ndie Absperrung aufgehoben wurde.\nEines Tages, als ich etwa um 8 Uhr morgens durch Houndsditch kam, h\u00f6rte\nich einen gro\u00dfen L\u00e4rm. Zwar waren nur wenige Leute auf der Stra\u00dfe, da\nes ihnen verboten war, dort lange herumzustehen oder sich mit andern\nherumzutreiben, auch hielt ich mich selbst nicht lange auf, aber das\nlaute Geschrei erweckte meine Neugierde, so da\u00df ich einem, der aus dem\nFenster schaute, zurief und ihn fragte, was es denn g\u00e4be.\nWie es schien, war der W\u00e4chter, der vor dem verseuchten oder angeblich\nverseuchten und abgesperrten Hause seinen Posten hatte, nun schon zwei\nN\u00e4chte hintereinander dagewesen, wie er wenigstens erz\u00e4hlte, und der\nTagw\u00e4chter, der auch schon einen Tag hier sein Amt versehen hatte, war\neben gekommen, um ihn abzul\u00f6sen -- und w\u00e4hrend dieser ganzen Zeit war\nkein Laut aus dem Hause gedrungen, kein Licht hatte sich gezeigt, die\nLeute verlangten nichts, schickten den W\u00e4chter weder auf irgendeine\nBesorgung, was doch gemeinhin die Hauptt\u00e4tigkeit der W\u00e4chter ausmachte,\nnoch wollten sie sonst etwas von ihm. So war es nach seinem Berichte\nseit Montagnachmittag. Da hatte er in dem Hause ein arges Schreien und\nHeulen geh\u00f6rt, wie er meinte, weil dort gerade jemand gestorben war.\nWirklich war auch der Leichenkarren in der vorhergehenden Nacht vor\nder T\u00fcre angehalten und die Leiche eines Dienstm\u00e4dchens herabgebracht\nworden. Die Leichentr\u00e4ger hatten sie in den Karren geworfen, wie sie\nwar, nur in ein St\u00fcck gr\u00fcnes Zeug gewickelt, und waren davongefahren.\nAls der L\u00e4rm und das Geschrei ert\u00f6nte, hatte der W\u00e4chter an die T\u00fcre\ngeklopft, aber eine ganze Weile hatte niemand geantwortet. Endlich\nhatte jemand zum Fenster herausgesehen und mit einer ver\u00e4rgerten, aber\ndoch weinerlichen Stimme gefragt: \u00bbWas wollt Ihr denn, da\u00df Ihr so\nklopft?\u00ab Er hatte geantwortet: \u00bbIch bin der W\u00e4chter, wie geht\u2019s Euch?\nWas ist los?\u00ab -- Die Person hatte darauf gerufen: \u00bbWas geht das dich\nan? Halt\u2019 den Leichenkarren an.\u00ab Das war so um 1 Uhr herum gewesen.\nBald nachher hatte er, wie er erz\u00e4hlte, den Leichenkarren angehalten\nund von neuem geklopft, aber keine Antwort erhalten. Auch als er immer\nweiter geklopft und der Kerl von dem Karren mit seiner Glocke gel\u00e4utet\nund wiederholt gerufen hatte: \u00bbBringt die Leiche heraus!\u00ab, war alles\nstill geblieben, bis der Fuhrmann, der irgendwo anders gebraucht wurde,\nendlich nicht mehr warten wollte und weggefahren war.\nDer W\u00e4chter hatte nicht gewu\u00dft, was er aus all dem machen sollte, so\nhatte er die Sache auf sich beruhen lassen, bis der Tagw\u00e4chter zur\nAbl\u00f6sung gekommen war. Nachdem er ihm alles aufs genaueste erz\u00e4hlt\nhatte, klopften die beiden eine Zeitlang an die T\u00fcre, aber ohne Erfolg.\nDoch bemerkten sie, da\u00df das Fenster oder der Fensterfl\u00fcgel im zweiten\nStock, aus dem die Person herausgeschaut und gerufen hatte, noch immer\noffen stand.\nDarauf holten die beiden Leute, um ihre Neugier zu befriedigen, eine\nlange Leiter, und einer von ihnen stieg hinauf und sp\u00e4hte in das\nZimmer. Dort sah er die Leiche einer Frau auf dem Boden liegen, die\nnichts als ein Hemd an hatte. Aber obwohl er laut rief und mit seinem\nlangen Stock auf den Boden stie\u00df, r\u00fchrte sich nichts, auch war kein\nLaut in dem ganzen Hause zu h\u00f6ren.\nNun stieg er wieder herunter und sprach mit seinem Kameraden, der auch\nhinaufstieg und alles gerade so fand wie der andere, worauf sie sich\nentschlossen, die Sache beim Lordmayor oder einer andern Beh\u00f6rde\nzur Anzeige zu bringen. Aber durchs Fenster wollte keiner von ihnen\nsteigen. Von seiten der Beh\u00f6rde wurde auf die Anzeige hin befohlen, das\nHaus aufzubrechen, und zwar in Gegenwart eines Konstablers und anderer\ndazu bestimmter Personen, damit nichts gestohlen w\u00fcrde. Also geschah\nes, es wurde aber niemand in dem Hause gefunden als die Leiche jenes\njungen Weibes, das man, da doch nichts mehr zu machen war, sich selbst\n\u00fcberlassen hatte. Die andern hatten wohl auf irgendeine Weise den\nW\u00e4chter get\u00e4uscht und sich durch die T\u00fcr oder eine Hintert\u00fcr oder \u00fcber\ndie D\u00e4cher davongemacht. Er selbst konnte dar\u00fcber keine Angaben machen,\nund was das Schreien und Heulen anbetraf, so war es wohl bei dem\nj\u00e4mmerlichen Abschied gewesen, der ihnen zu tiefst ans Herz ging, da\nes sich um die Schwester der Hausfrau handelte. Der Mann selber, seine\nFrau, mehrere Kinder und Dienstboten waren alle fort und geflohen, ob\nkrank oder gesund, konnte ich niemals erfahren, freilich zog ich auch\nkeine Erkundigungen ein.\nIn einem andern Hause in einer Stra\u00dfe, ganz nahe bei Aldgate, war, wie\nman mir erz\u00e4hlte, eine ganze Familie abgesperrt und eingeschlossen\nworden, weil das Dienstm\u00e4dchen krank geworden war. Der Vater der\nFamilie hatte durch seine Freunde bei dem n\u00e4chsten Ratsherrn und beim\nLordmayor Beschwerde einlegen lassen und sich bereit erkl\u00e4rt, das\nM\u00e4dchen in das Pesthaus bringen zu lassen, was ihm aber abgeschlagen\nwurde. Die T\u00fcre wurde also mit einem roten Kreuz bezeichnet, ein\nSchlo\u00df vorgelegt und ein W\u00e4chter hingestellt, wie die Verordnungen es\nvorschrieben.\nAls der Hausherr sah, da\u00df dagegen nichts zu machen war, und da\u00df er,\nseine Frau und seine Kinder mit diesem armen verseuchten Dienstboten\neingesperrt waren, rief er dem W\u00e4chter zu, er solle sogleich eine\nPflegerin f\u00fcr die Kranke holen, denn f\u00fcr sie alle w\u00fcrde die Pflege\nsicheren Tod bedeuten. Er sagte dem W\u00e4chter in d\u00fcrren Worten, wenn er\ndas nicht tue, w\u00fcrde das M\u00e4dchen entweder an der Seuche sterben oder an\nHunger zugrunde gehen, denn er w\u00e4re fest entschlossen, kein Mitglied\nseiner Familie in ihre N\u00e4he zu lassen. Dazu lag sie in der Dachstube\n\u00fcber vier Treppen, wo ihr Schreien oder um Hilfe rufen von niemand\ngeh\u00f6rt werden konnte.\nDer W\u00e4chter willigte ein, ging weg und holte eine Pflegerin, wie er\nbeauftragt worden war; brachte sie auch noch denselben Abend. Der\nHausherr ben\u00fctzte inzwischen die Gelegenheit, ein gro\u00dfes Loch durch\nseinen Laden in eine Bude oder einen Stand zu brechen, wo fr\u00fcher ein\nSchuhflicker unter seinem Ladenfenster gesessen hatte. Bei diesen\ntraurigen Zeiten aber war er wahrscheinlich tot oder verzogen, und\nso hatte der Herr den Schl\u00fcssel in Gewahrsam. Solange der W\u00e4chter da\nwar, h\u00e4tte er freilich des L\u00e4rms wegen das Loch nicht durch die Wand\nbrechen k\u00f6nnen. Als er nun drin in der Bude war, hielt er sich ganz\nstill, bis der W\u00e4chter mit der Pflegerin zur\u00fcckkam, und so machte er\u2019s\nauch am n\u00e4chsten Tage. In der folgenden Nacht aber schickte er den\nW\u00e4chter mit dem Auftrage weg, aus der Apotheke ein Pflaster f\u00fcr die\nKranke zu holen, das erst hergerichtet werden mu\u00dfte, oder gab ihm einen\nandern Auftrag, der ihn einige Zeit entfernt hielt, und w\u00e4hrend dieser\nZeit machte er sich mit der ganzen Familie davon, und \u00fcberlie\u00df es dem\nW\u00e4chter und der Pflegerin, das arme Gesch\u00f6pf zu beerdigen, d. h. in den\nLeichenkarren zu werfen und f\u00fcr das Haus zu sorgen.\nNicht weit davon sch\u00fctteten sie angez\u00fcndetes Schie\u00dfpulver auf einen\nW\u00e4chter und verbrannten den armen Teufel j\u00e4mmerlich. W\u00e4hrend er\nf\u00fcrchterlich br\u00fcllte und niemand sich zur Hilfe herbeiwagte, stieg die\nganze Familie aus den Fenstern im ersten Stock und lie\u00df zwei Kranke\nzur\u00fcck, die laut um Hilfe schrien. Man trug Sorge, ihnen Pflegerinnen\nzu verschaffen, aber die geflohenen Leute wurden niemals entdeckt, bis\nsie nach Erl\u00f6schen der Seuche zur\u00fcckkehrten. Da aber kein Beweis gegen\nsie vorlag, konnte ihnen nichts geschehen.\nIn andern F\u00e4llen gab es G\u00e4rten, Mauern oder Z\u00e4une zwischen den\nH\u00e4usern und den Nachbargeb\u00e4uden oder H\u00f6fe und Hinterh\u00e4user, und aus\nFreundschaft oder auf ihre inst\u00e4ndigen Bitten hin lie\u00df man die Leute\n\u00fcber die Mauern oder Z\u00e4une klettern und verschaffte ihnen so einen\nAusgang durch die Nachbarh\u00e4user. Oder sie bestachen die Dienstboten,\nsie bei Nacht durchzulassen, so da\u00df alles in allem die Absperrung der\nH\u00e4user keineswegs sicher war. Noch erf\u00fcllte sie \u00fcberhaupt ihren Zweck\nund diente mehr dazu, die Leute in Verzweiflung und bis zum \u00c4u\u00dfersten\nzu bringen, um nur unter allen Umst\u00e4nden hinauszukommen.\nUnd was dabei das Schlimmste war, war, da\u00df diejenigen, die so die\nFlucht ergriffen, die Ansteckung immer weiter verbreiteten, indem\nsie sich, schon verseucht, in der schauerlichsten Lage herumtrieben,\nwas sonst nicht der Fall gewesen w\u00e4re. Wer sich die Sache in allen\nEinzelheiten vor Augen f\u00fchrt, mu\u00df zugeben, da\u00df die H\u00e4rte solcher\nAbsperrungen viele Leute toll machte, so da\u00df sie auf jede Gefahr hin\naus den H\u00e4usern rannten, und das mit der Pest im Leibe und ohne zu\nwissen, wohin sie sich wenden oder was sie tun sollten, oder auch was\nsie taten. Manche gerieten in die schrecklichste Not und gingen auf den\nStra\u00dfen oder Feldern an Entkr\u00e4ftigung zugrunde, oder lie\u00dfen sich in der\nFieberhitze der Krankheit einfach zu Boden fallen. Andere wanderten\naufs Land hinaus, irgendwohin, wie es ihnen gerade ihr Elend eingab,\nohne Ziel und Zweck, bis sie, ersch\u00f6pft und hinf\u00e4llig, im Stra\u00dfengraben\nverkamen. Denn niemand kam ihnen zu Hilfe, und \u00fcberall in den H\u00e4usern\noder D\u00f6rfern an der Stra\u00dfe weigerte man sich sie aufzunehmen, ob sie\nkrank waren oder nicht. Manche verkrochen sich in Heuschober und\nstarben dort, denn kein Mensch wagte nur in ihre N\u00e4he zu kommen, oder\nglaubte ihnen, da\u00df sie nicht angesteckt w\u00e4ren.\nWenn anderseits die Pest in eine Familie einbrach, d. h. wenn ein\nFamilienmitglied ausgegangen war und von irgendwoher die Ansteckung\nheimbrachte, so erfuhr es die Familie sicherlich fr\u00fcher als die\nAufsichtsbeamten, die ernannt worden waren, um die Kranken zu\nuntersuchen. In der Zwischenzeit hatte dann der Hausherr bequem\nGelegenheit, mit seiner ganzen Familie fortzuziehen, falls er wu\u00dfte\nwohin, und viele taten das auch. Aber das Ungl\u00fcck war, da\u00df eine Menge\ndavon schon angesteckt waren und so die Seuche in die H\u00e4user jener\nbrachten, die sie gastfreundlich aufnahmen, was im h\u00f6chsten Grade\ngrausam und undankbar war.\nBisher sprach ich von jenen Leuten, die aus Angst, eingesperrt zu\nwerden, jedes Mittel ergriffen, sei es List oder Gewalt, um vor oder\nnach der Zuschlie\u00dfung der H\u00e4user herauszukommen, und deren Elend\ndadurch nicht vermindert, sondern eher gesteigert wurde. Aber au\u00dferdem\ngab es viele unter den Fl\u00fcchtlingen, die Zufluchtsorte und andere\nH\u00e4user hatten, wohin sie sich zur\u00fcckzogen und verborgen hielten, bis\ndie Seuche erloschen war. Andere Familien, die das Kommen der Seuche\nvoraussahen, stapelten Haufen von Nahrungsmitteln und Vorr\u00e4ten auf,\ngenug f\u00fcr sie alle, und schlossen sich so g\u00e4nzlich ab, da\u00df man von\nihnen weder etwas sah noch h\u00f6rte, bis die Seuche vorbei war, worauf sie\nendlich wieder in voller Gesundheit zum Vorschein kamen. Ich erinnere\nmich mehrerer solcher F\u00e4lle und k\u00f6nnte im einzelnen anf\u00fchren, wie sie\nes machten. Zweifellos war das das Sicherste, was man tun konnte f\u00fcr\nsolche, deren Verh\u00e4ltnisse keine Entfernung erlaubten oder die keinen\ngeeigneten Zufluchtsort besa\u00dfen, denn wenn sie sich so abgeschlossen\nhatten, war\u2019s gerade, als ob sie hundert Meilen weit weg gewesen\nw\u00e4ren. Ich kann mich auch nicht erinnern, da\u00df irgendeine dieser\nFamilien erkrankt w\u00e4re. Unter ihnen waren besonders einige holl\u00e4ndische\nKaufleute bemerkenswert, die ihre H\u00e4user wie gegen eine Belagerung\nherrichteten und niemand erlaubten, hinein oder heraus oder nur in die\nN\u00e4he zu kommen. Eins von diesen H\u00e4usern stand in einem Hofe in der\nThrockmorton-Stra\u00dfe und ging auf Drapers Garten.\nAber nun wieder zur\u00fcck zu den Verseuchten, die von den Beh\u00f6rden\nabgesperrt wurden. Ihr Elend ist gar nicht zu beschreiben, und\ngew\u00f6hnlich kam auch aus solchen H\u00e4usern das schauerlichste Geschrei\nund Gejammer der armen verzweifelten Leute, die ihre Liebsten in solch\nf\u00fcrchterlicher Lage sahen und dabei eingesperrt wie im Gef\u00e4ngnis waren.\nIch erinnere mich -- und w\u00e4hrend ich\u2019s niederschreibe, ist\u2019s mir, als\nh\u00f6rte ich noch jetzt den ganzen Jammer -- ich erinnere mich, sage ich,\nan eine Dame, die eine einzige Tochter hatte, ein junges M\u00e4dchen von\netwa 19 Jahren. Sie waren recht wohlhabend und wohnten in einem Hause\nallein f\u00fcr sich. Die beiden waren mit ihrem Dienstm\u00e4dchen irgendwo fort\ngewesen, aber ungef\u00e4hr zwei Stunden nach ihrer R\u00fcckkehr klagte das\njunge M\u00e4dchen \u00fcber Unwohlsein, eine Viertelstunde sp\u00e4ter begann sie,\nsich zu erbrechen und f\u00fchlte heftige Kopfschmerzen. \u00bbGott verh\u00fcte,\u00ab\nsagte die Mutter in entsetzlicher Angst, \u00bbda\u00df mein Kind die Pest\nhabe!\u00ab Da die Kopfschmerzen zunahmen, lie\u00df die Mutter das Bett w\u00e4rmen\nund brachte ihre Tochter zu Bett. Dann gab sie ihr etwas, um sie zum\nSchwitzen zu bringen, was man gew\u00f6hnlich tat, wenn die ersten Anzeichen\nder Seuche sich einstellten.\nW\u00e4hrend das Bett noch gel\u00fcftet wurde, entkleidete die Mutter das junge\nFrauenzimmer, und indem sie mit einer Kerze ihren K\u00f6rper ableuchtete,\ngewahrte sie sogleich die heillosen Merkmale der Seuche in der\nLeistengegend. Unf\u00e4hig sich zu beherrschen, lie\u00df sie die Kerze fallen\nund stie\u00df ein so schauerliches Geschrei aus, da\u00df das mutigste Herz auf\nder ganzen Welt dadurch ersch\u00fcttert worden w\u00e4re. Damit nicht genug,\nfiel sie in Ohnmacht, rannte, als sie wieder zu sich kam, vom Entsetzen\ngepackt, durch das ganze Haus, die Treppen hinauf und hinunter, wie\neine Wahnsinnige. Und das war sie auch. Sie fuhr fort stundenlang zu\nschreien und zu kreischen, denn offenbar hatte sie jede Herrschaft\n\u00fcber sich verloren und, wie ich h\u00f6rte, wurde sie auch nie mehr ganz\nvern\u00fcnftig. Was ihre Tochter anbetrifft, so war sie schon so gut als\ntot, denn der kalte Brand, der die Flecken hervorruft, hatte sich\nbereits \u00fcber ihren ganzen K\u00f6rper verbreitet, und sie starb nach weniger\nals zwei Stunden. Doch die Mutter schrie noch immer fort, ohne etwas\ndavon zu merken. Das alles ist so lange her, da\u00df ich mich nicht mehr\ngenau erinnere, aber ich glaube, da\u00df die Mutter sich nicht wieder\nerholte und nach zwei oder drei Wochen starb. --\nVor mir liegt die Geschichte von zwei Br\u00fcdern und einem Vetter von\nihnen, die alle drei Junggesellen waren. Sie waren zu lange in der\nStadt geblieben, um noch weg zu k\u00f6nnen, und da sie nicht wu\u00dften, wohin\nsie sich wenden sollten, auch keine Mittel zu einer weiteren Reise\nbesa\u00dfen, dachten sie sich zu ihrer Rettung etwas aus, das zuerst\nhoffnungslos aussah, aber doch eigentlich das Nat\u00fcrlichste war. Man mu\u00df\nsich wundern, da\u00df nicht mehr Leute darauf verfielen. Sie waren zwar von\nniederem Stande, aber doch nicht so g\u00e4nzlich mittellos, um sich nicht\ndas N\u00f6tigste zu verschaffen, und als sie sahen, da\u00df die Seuche in der\nschrecklichsten Weise zunahm, entschlossen sie sich, so gut es eben\ngehen wollte, sich auf und davon zu machen.\nEiner von ihnen war in den letzten Kriegsl\u00e4uften Soldat und noch\nfr\u00fcher in den Niederlanden gewesen. Er hatte au\u00dfer dem Gebrauch der\nWaffen nichts besonderes gelernt, und da er infolge einer Verwundung\nkeine schwere Arbeit ausf\u00fchren konnte, war er bei einem B\u00e4cker von\nSchiffszwieback in Wapping in Arbeit getreten.\nSein Bruder war ein Matrose gewesen, hatte aber irgendwie eine\nVerletzung am Bein davongetragen, die ihn verhinderte, weiterhin zur\nSee zu gehen. Er hatte dann bei einem Segelmacher in Wapping oder da\nherum in Arbeit gestanden, und da er seine Sachen gut zusammenhielt,\nhatte er sich eine Kleinigkeit erspart und war von den Dreien der\nReichste.\nDer dritte war seines Zeichens ein Zimmermann, ein geschickter Bursche.\nAlles, was er besa\u00df, war zwar nur sein Werkzeugkasten, aber mit dessen\nHilfe verstand er, sich \u00fcberall seinen Lebensunterhalt zu verschaffen.\nIn solchen Zeiten freilich war auch er arbeitslos. \u00dcbrigens wohnte er\nin Shadwell.\nAlle ihre Arbeitspl\u00e4tze geh\u00f6rten zu dem Kirchspiel von Stepney, das\nzuletzt von der Seuche erfa\u00dft wurde, und daher waren sie geblieben, bis\nsie sahen, da\u00df die Pest in den Westteilen der Stadt allm\u00e4hlich erlosch\nund sich nun nach Osten wandte, wo sie wohnten.\nDie Geschichte dieser drei Leute werde ich an ihrem Orte ausf\u00fchrlich\nerz\u00e4hlen, da sie in k\u00fcnftigen schlimmen Zeiten f\u00fcr manchen von nicht\ngeringem Nutzen sein mag, aber vorl\u00e4ufig habe ich noch anderes zu\nberichten. --\nIn der ersten Zeit bewegte ich mich ganz sorglos in der Stadt\numher, wenn auch nicht so sorglos, um mich offensichtlicher Gefahr\nauszusetzen, au\u00dfer damals, als man das Massengrab im Kirchhof von\nAldgate aushob. Das war eine f\u00fcrchterliche Grube, und in meiner Neugier\nmu\u00dfte ich hingehen und sie anschauen. Nach meiner Sch\u00e4tzung ma\u00df sie in\nder L\u00e4nge ungef\u00e4hr 40 Fu\u00df und 15 oder 16 der Breite nach. Wie ich das\nerstemal hineinsah, war sie etwa 9 Fu\u00df tief, aber sp\u00e4ter sollen sie an\neinem Ende bis zu 20 Fu\u00df gegraben haben, bis sie auf das Grundwasser\nkamen. Schon fr\u00fcher waren einige Massengr\u00e4ber ausgehoben worden, denn\nals endlich die Seuche zu uns kam, w\u00fctete sie in den zwei Kirchspielen\nvon Aldgate und Whitechapel \u00e4rger als in irgendeinem Teile von London.\nMan hatte, wie gesagt, schon mehrere Massengr\u00e4ber hergestellt, als die\nSeuche zu uns kam und die Leichenkarren ihre Fahrt begannen. Das war\netwa um den Anfang August. In jedem von diesen Gr\u00e4bern lagen vielleicht\n50 oder 60 Leichen, aber dann machte man sie gr\u00f6\u00dfer, um alle, die\ninnerhalb einer Woche starben, darin zu verscharren. Von Mitte bis\nEnde August waren das an die 2 bis 400 w\u00f6chentlich. Gr\u00f6\u00dfer konnte man\ndie Gruben nicht machen, weil die Beh\u00f6rden ausdr\u00fccklich vorgeschrieben\nhatten, da\u00df jede Leiche 6 Fu\u00df unter der Oberfl\u00e4che liegen m\u00fcsse und\nbei 17 oder 18 Fu\u00df Tiefe schon das Grundwasser kam. Bei Beginn des\nSeptember aber wurde die Seuche so heftig, da\u00df die Sterblichkeitsziffer\nin unserm Kirchspiel h\u00f6her war als irgendwo sonst in London, und da\nbefahl man denn, diesen schauerlichen Schlund auszugraben, denn es war\nwirklich mehr ein Schlund als ein Grab.\nMan hatte angenommen, da\u00df man damit f\u00fcr einen Monat oder l\u00e4nger reichen\nw\u00fcrde, und einige machten den Kirchenvorstehern Vorw\u00fcrfe, da\u00df sie\netwas Derartiges erlaubt hatten, als ob sie das ganze Kirchspiel mit\nMann und Maus eingraben wollten, aber die Folge rechtfertigte die\nMa\u00dfregeln der Kirchenvorsteher und zeigte, da\u00df sie f\u00fcr den Zustand\nihres Kirchspiels einen richtigen Blick hatten. Denn am 4. September\nwar die Grube fertig, am 6. begann man mit den Beerdigungen, und am\n20., also gerade 14 Tage sp\u00e4ter, waren 1114 Leichen hineingeworfen\nworden, und man mu\u00dfte sie wieder zuwerfen, da die Leichen schon bis 6\nFu\u00df unter die Oberfl\u00e4che reichten. Sicherlich gibt es noch einige alte\nLeute in dem Kirchspiel, die all das best\u00e4tigen und sogar den Ort auf\ndem Kirchhof anzeigen k\u00f6nnen, wo die Grube war. Noch viele Jahre lang\nwar eine Senkung auf dem Boden zu sehen, neben dem Weg, der an der\nwestlichen Mauer des Kirchhofs entlangf\u00fchrt, von Houndsditch heraus,\nund dann nach Whitechapel umbiegt, bis zum Wirtshaus zu den drei Nonnen.\nEs war um den 10. September, als meine Neugierde mich veranla\u00dfte oder\ntrieb, das Grab von neuem anzuschauen, nachdem fast 400 Leute dort\nbeerdigt worden waren. Diesmal begn\u00fcgte ich mich nicht, wie vorher\nbei Tage hinzugehen. Denn da war nichts zu sehen als Erde, weil die\nhineingeworfenen Leichen von den Leichentr\u00e4gern sofort mit Erde\nzugeschaufelt wurden. Also beschlo\u00df ich, nachts hinzugehen und beim\nHineinwerfen zuzuschauen.\nDas war zwar strenge verboten, und lediglich der Ansteckung wegen.\nAber sp\u00e4ter wurde das Verbot aus andern Gr\u00fcnden n\u00f6tig, denn Kranke,\ndie ihr Ende nahen f\u00fchlten, liefen in ihren Fieberdelirien an diese\nMassengr\u00e4ber, mit nichts am Leibe als ein Leintuch oder irgendeinen\nFetzen und sprangen hinein, um, wie sie sagten, sich selbst zu\nbegraben. Ich glaube nicht, da\u00df die Leute sie da liegen lie\u00dfen, aber\nich habe sagen h\u00f6ren, da\u00df zu dem gro\u00dfen Grab in Finsbury, das damals\ngegen die Felder zu noch offen und ohne Mauer lag, viele kamen und\nhineinsprangen und ihren Geist aufgaben, ehe man noch die Erde auf sie\nschaufelte, und da\u00df sie, als dann die Leichentr\u00e4ger mit neuen Opfern\nkamen, zwar schon tot, aber noch warm waren.\nSolche Dinge m\u00f6gen eine Vorstellung von dem Grauen dieser Zeit geben,\nobwohl wer\u2019s nicht selbst gesehen hat, kaum eine Ahnung davon haben\nkann. Es war wirklich und wahrhaftig f\u00fcrchterlicher, als man es sagen\nkann.\nDie Bekanntschaft mit dem K\u00fcster erm\u00f6glichte mir den Eintritt in\nden Kirchhof. Er wies mich zwar nicht zur\u00fcck, bat mich aber aufs\nernstlichste, doch wieder fortzugehen. Als frommer und verst\u00e4ndiger\nMann hielt er mir vor, da\u00df es wohl sein Amt und seine Pflicht\nw\u00e4re, sich allen Gefahren auszusetzen, und da\u00df er darum hoffe, es\nwerde ihm nichts geschehen. Ich aber h\u00e4tte keinen Grund als meine\nNeugierde, die solch eine gef\u00e4hrliche Unternehmung doch wirklich nicht\nrechtfertigen k\u00f6nne. Ich sagte ihm, da\u00df ich nun einmal darauf aus w\u00e4re,\nhineinzukommen, und da\u00df es vielleicht nicht ohne Nutzen w\u00e4re, so etwas\nzu sehen. \u00bbWenn es so ist, dann geht in Gottes Namen,\u00ab sagte der gute\nMann, \u00bbes mag Euch als beste Predigt dienen, die Ihr je in Eurem Leben\ngeh\u00f6rt habt. Es ist ein Anblick, von dem eine laute Stimme kommt, die\nuns alle zur Bu\u00dfe ruft.\u00ab Mit diesen Worten \u00f6ffnete er das Tor und\nsagte: \u00bbNun geht, wenn Ihr wollt.\u00ab\nSeine Worte hatten mich ein wenig schwankend gemacht, und ich z\u00f6gerte\nnoch eine Zeitlang, aber da sah ich gerade von den Minoriten her\nzwei Pechfackeln n\u00e4herkommen, h\u00f6rte die Glocke des Fuhrmanns, und\ndann rumpelte auch schon der Leichenkarren heran. So konnte ich mich\nnicht l\u00e4nger zur\u00fcckhalten und ging in den Kirchhof. Soviel ich zuerst\nausmachen konnte, war niemand dort als die Leichentr\u00e4ger und der\nMann, der das Pferd am Karren f\u00fchrte, aber als ich n\u00e4her an die Grube\nkam, sah ich dort einen Mann hin und hergehen, der in einen braunen\nMantel gewickelt war und darunter allerlei Bewegungen mit den H\u00e4nden\nmachte, so als ob er in gr\u00f6\u00dfter Verzweiflung w\u00e4re. Die Leute umringten\nihn sogleich, wohl weil sie meinten, er w\u00e4re einer von den armen,\nfieberkranken Teufeln, die sich selber begraben wollten. Er sprach kein\nWort, ging nur immer auf und ab, und \u00e4chzte und seufzte ein paarmal\nlaut, als wolle es ihm das Herz abdr\u00fccken.\nDie Tr\u00e4ger merkten bald, da\u00df er weder krank noch verr\u00fcckt war, sondern\nnur von dem schrecklichsten Kummer niedergebeugt, was er wohl sein\nmochte, denn in dem Karren lagen die Leichen seiner Frau und mehrerer\nKinder. Es war leicht zu sehen, wie schwer es ihm ums Herz war, aber\ntrotzdem lie\u00df er den Tr\u00e4nen keinen Lauf und unterdr\u00fcckte sie mit\nm\u00e4nnlicher Fassung. Er bat mit ruhiger Stimme die Tr\u00e4ger, ihn allein\nzu lassen, er wolle nur sehen, wie die Leichen hineingeworfen w\u00fcrden\nund dann fortgehen. Sie lie\u00dfen ihn also stehen und leerten die Leichen,\nwie sie durcheinander auf dem Karren lagen, in die Grube. Das schien\nder Mann nicht erwartet zu haben. Er mochte wohl geglaubt haben, da\u00df\nsie auf anst\u00e4ndige Weise hineingelegt w\u00fcrden, obwohl er sich sp\u00e4ter\nselbst \u00fcberzeugte, da\u00df das unm\u00f6glich war. Wie er das sah, war es mit\nseiner Selbstbeherrschung zu Ende, und er schrie laut auf. Ich verstand\nnicht, was er sagte, sah ihn nur zwei oder drei Schritte nach r\u00fcckw\u00e4rts\ntaumeln und dann ohnm\u00e4chtig zu Boden sinken. Die Tr\u00e4ger liefen hin,\nhoben ihn auf und brachten ihn, nachdem er nach einiger Zeit wieder\nzu sich gekommen war, in ein Gasthaus, am Ende von Houndsditch, wo er\nanscheinend bekannt war und man sich seiner annahm. Ehe er ging, sah er\nnoch einmal in die Grube hinab, aber die Leute hatten die Leichen schon\nmit Erde bedeckt, und obwohl es Licht genug gab, denn an allen Seiten\nder Grube steckten Laternen in der Erde, war doch nichts mehr zu sehen.\nDieses traurige Schauspiel ersch\u00fctterte mich aufs tiefste. Und was\nich sonst noch sah, war auch \u00fcber alle Ma\u00dfen grauenvoll. Auf dem\nKarren lagen 16 oder 17 Leichen, einige in Leint\u00fccher eingeschlagen,\nandere in Fetzen, noch andere fast g\u00e4nzlich nackt oder nur so leicht\nzugedeckt, da\u00df die H\u00fclle sich losmachte, als sie nun in die Grube\ngeworfen wurden. Da lagen sie nun v\u00f6llig nackt unten, aber f\u00fcr sie\nwar\u2019s gleich, denn sie waren alle tot, und sonst konnte wohl auch\nniemand daran Ansto\u00df nehmen, angesehen sie nun alle im gemeinsamen\nGrab der Menschheit ruhten. Denn hier gab es keinen Unterschied, arm\nund reich lagen beieinander. Eine andere Art von Begr\u00e4bnissen war\nunm\u00f6glich, denn woher h\u00e4tte man die S\u00e4rge f\u00fcr die ungeheure Anzahl der\nder Seuche Erlegenen nehmen sollen?\nUm den Leichentr\u00e4gern etwas anzuh\u00e4ngen, wurde wohl erz\u00e4hlt, da\u00df\nsie den Toten, die ein richtiges, \u00fcber dem Kopf und den F\u00fc\u00dfen\nzusammengebundenes Totenhemd aus gutem Leinenzeug trugen, es wegnahmen,\nwenn sie auf dem Karren lagen und sie ganz nackt in die Grube warfen,\naber ich kann nicht glauben, da\u00df es solche Scheusale unter den Christen\ngibt, besonders nicht in einer derartig schrecklichen Zeit. So erz\u00e4hle\nich nur und lasse die Sache unentschieden.\nZahllose Geschichten liefen auch um \u00fcber die Unmenschlichkeit der\nPflegerinnen, die den Tod der Kranken, die ihrer Sorge \u00fcbergeben waren,\nbeschleunigt haben sollten. Aber dar\u00fcber werde ich sp\u00e4ter mehr zu sagen\nhaben.\nDer Anblick des Massengrabes \u00fcberw\u00e4ltigte mich fast, und ich ging\nmit tief ersch\u00fcttertem Herzen fort und voll von unaussprechlichen\nmarternden Gedanken. Gerade als ich aus dem Kirchhof kam und in die\nStra\u00dfe einbog, die zu meinem Hause f\u00fchrte, kam mir ein neuer Karren\nentgegen mit Pechfackeln und einem Kerl vor dem Karren, der mit der\nGlocke l\u00e4utete. Er war ganz voll mit Leichen, und ich ging \u00fcber die\nStra\u00dfe, um zuzuschauen, aber dann fehlte mir doch der Mut, umzukehren\nund das gleiche grausige Schauspiel noch einmal anzusehen. So ging\nich denn direkt nach Hause, in der Hoffnung, da\u00df ich keinen Schaden\ngenommen hatte, wie es auch in der Tat der Fall war.\nZu Hause fiel mir die unselige Geschichte des armen Mannes auf dem\nFriedhofe wieder auf die Seele, und wirklich, so oft ich an ihn\ndachte, mu\u00dfte ich weinen, vielleicht heftiger, als er selbst es getan\nhatte. Und da ich sein Schicksal gar nicht mehr aus meinen Gedanken\nwegbrachte, zwang es mich f\u00f6rmlich, nochmals auszugehen und in das\nGasthaus hin\u00fcberzuschauen, um zu erfahren, was aus ihm geworden war.\nEs war schon 1 Uhr nachts, aber der arme Mann war noch immer dort. Da\ndie Leute vom Hause ihn kannten, hatten sie sich seiner angenommen und\nihn die Nacht \u00fcber dabehalten, ohne R\u00fccksicht auf die Gefahr, von ihm\nangesteckt zu werden, wenn schon er einen ganz gesunden Eindruck machte.\nIch kann nicht ohne Besch\u00e4mung an dieses Gasthaus zur\u00fcckdenken.\nDie Hausleute selber waren h\u00f6flich, freundlich und gesittet\ngenug und hatten bis zur Stunde ihr Haus offengehalten und das\nGesch\u00e4ft weitergef\u00fchrt. Aber die Gesellschaft, die dort jede Nacht\nzusammenzukommen pflegte, benahm sich in einer l\u00e4rmenden und schamlosen\nWeise, wie es eben bei solchen Menschen zu andern Zeiten \u00fcblich war,\nund das in einem solchen Grade, da\u00df der Gastwirt und seine Frau selbst\ndar\u00fcber emp\u00f6rt und best\u00fcrzt waren.\nGew\u00f6hnlich hielten sie sich in einem Raum auf, der auf die Stra\u00dfe ging,\nund da sie meistens bis tief in die Nacht zechten, geschah es, da\u00df\nsie die Fenster aufmachten, wenn sie das Geklingel des Leichenkarrens\nh\u00f6rten, der am Hause vorbei nach Houndsditch fuhr, um sich die traurige\nGeschichte anzusehen. Wenn dann die Leute auf der Stra\u00dfe oder an den\nFenstern beim Vorbeifahren des Karrens klagten und jammerten, machten\nsie ihre schamlosen Scherze und Sp\u00f6ttereien, besonders, wenn die Leute\nden lieben Gott anriefen, Mitleid mit ihnen zu haben, wie es viele in\ndieser Zeit zu tun pflegten.\nDiese sauberen Herren, die sich durch die Aufnahme des armen\nungl\u00fccklichen Mannes gest\u00f6rt finden mochten, \u00e4rgerten sich und wurden\nrecht hochfahrend gegen den Gastwirt, da\u00df er einen solchen \u00bbKerl\u00ab,\nwie sie sagten, vom Grabe her, in das Haus gebracht habe. Als nun der\nWirt entgegnete, da\u00df der Mann ein Nachbar sei, auch gesund, und nur\n\u00fcberw\u00e4ltigt vom Jammer wegen seiner Familie, richtete sich ihr \u00c4rger\ngegen den Mann, und sie fingen an, ihn wegen seines Kummers um Frau\nund Kinder zu verspotten, indem sie ihm Mangel an Mut vorwarfen, sonst\nw\u00e4re er in die Grube gesprungen, um, wie sie h\u00f6hnisch bemerkten, sich\nmit den Seinigen im Himmel zu vereinigen. Dazu machten sie noch einige\nschn\u00f6de, ja geradezu gottesl\u00e4sterliche Redensarten.\nSie waren gerade dabei, als ich ins Haus trat, und obwohl der Mann in\nseiner stillen Trostlosigkeit verharrte, konnte ich ihm doch anmerken,\nda\u00df ihre Redereien ihn bek\u00fcmmerten und verletzten. Auf das hin machte\nich ihnen auf ruhige Weise einige Vorw\u00fcrfe, denn ich wu\u00dfte, mit was\nf\u00fcr Leuten ich\u2019s zu tun hatte. \u00dcbrigens war ich zweien unter ihnen\nwohlbekannt.\nSofort \u00fcberh\u00e4uften sie mich mit Fl\u00fcchen und Schimpfreden und fragten\nmich, warum ich nicht, wie so viele weit bessere Menschen, schon\nbegraben sei oder wenigstens zu Hause, um zu beten, da\u00df mich der\nLeichenkarren nicht hole.\nIch wunderte mich nicht wenig \u00fcber die Schamlosigkeit der Leute, aber\nsie brachte mich nicht aus der Fassung, und ich hielt an mich. Aber\nwegen der Art, wie sie sich gegen den armen Mann benommen hatten, sagte\nich ihnen doch meine Meinung. Wie sie es nur \u00fcbers Herz brachten, sich\n\u00fcber diesen bejammernswerten Menschen, dem Gott die ganze Familie\ngenommen hatte, lustig zu machen.\nIch erinnere mich nicht mehr an all die abscheulichen Scherze, die sie\nauf meine Rede hin gegen mich loslie\u00dfen, da sie besonders dar\u00fcber\naufgebracht waren, da\u00df ich mir kein Blatt vor den Mund genommen hatte.\nIch m\u00f6chte auch all die gemeinen Fl\u00fcche, Schimpfworte und ekelhaften\nAusdr\u00fccke, die kaum der niederste Stra\u00dfenp\u00f6bel in den Mund nimmt, nicht\nniederschreiben. Nur so ganz verh\u00e4rtete Halunken konnten sich in einer\nZeit des Schreckens, den die Hand des Schicksals jeden Augenblick auch\nauf sie schleudern mochte, so gehen lassen.\nDas Greulichste dabei war, da\u00df sie sich nicht f\u00fcrchteten, Gott zu\nl\u00e4stern und sich dar\u00fcber lustig zu machen, da\u00df ich die Pest eine Strafe\nGottes nannte. Sie lachten \u00fcber das Wort \u00bbGericht\u00ab, als ob Gott keine\nAbsicht dabei gehabt h\u00e4tte, uns eine solche Heimsuchung aufzuerlegen.\nUnd da\u00df die Leute, wenn sie den Leichenkarren vorbeifahren sahen, Gott\nanriefen, fanden sie nur bl\u00f6dsinnig, l\u00e4cherlich und unversch\u00e4mt.\nIch machte, da\u00df ich wegkam, um nicht Zeuge sein zu m\u00fcssen, wie das\nGericht, das schwer \u00fcber der ganzen Stadt lag, r\u00e4chend auf sie\nniederbrach und auf alle, die zu ihnen geh\u00f6rten.\nAuf diese Weise trieben sie\u2019s noch drei oder vier Tage, mehr war\u2019s\nnicht. Dann traf den einen von ihnen die Seuche, und zwar gerade den,\nder den armen Mann am grausamsten verspottet hatte, und er ging auf die\nj\u00e4mmerlichste Weise zugrunde. Kurz, einer nach dem andern wurde in die\ngro\u00dfe Grube geworfen, ehe sie noch ganz voll war. --\nBisher hatten sich die Menschen eifrig in die Kirchen gedr\u00e4ngt, um die\nBarmherzigkeit Gottes in dieser Zeit des Schreckens anzurufen, aber\nals die Seuche in unserm Stadtteil nun immer \u00e4rger wurde, fing man an,\nsich zu scheuen, zur Kirche zu kommen, wenigstens war sie nicht mehr\nso voll wie fr\u00fcher. Das kam auch daher, weil viele der Geistlichen\ngestorben, andere aufs Land gezogen waren. Und wirklich, es bedurfte\nschon eines ordentlichen Mutes und eines starken Glaubens, in einer\nsolchen Zeit nicht nur in der Stadt zu bleiben, sondern auch das Amt\nauszu\u00fcben und die Gemeinde mit christlichem Troste zu versehen, von der\naller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach schon eine Menge angesteckt war, und das\nt\u00e4glich oder an manchen Pl\u00e4tzen zweimal t\u00e4glich durchzuf\u00fchren. --\nIch erinnere mich an einen Mann, der aus seinem Hause in der\nAldergate-Stra\u00dfe oder da herum ausbrach und die Stra\u00dfe nach Islington\neinschlug. Er versuchte im Wirtshaus zum \u00bbEngel\u00ab und dann im \u00bbWei\u00dfen\nRo\u00df\u00ab unterzukommen, die auch jetzt noch so hei\u00dfen, wurde aber\nabgewiesen. Dann kam er zu dem \u00bbScheckigen Stier\u00ab, der auch noch das\ngleiche Zeichen tr\u00e4gt, und bat um ein Nachtquartier f\u00fcr nur eine Nacht,\nindem er vorgab, da\u00df er sich nach Lincolnshire begeben wolle, auch\nv\u00f6llig gesund und frei von jeder Ansteckung sei, die auch da drau\u00dfen\nnoch wenig Schaden getan hatte.\nMan sagte ihm, da\u00df kein Zimmer frei w\u00e4re, nur eine einbettige\nDachstube und auch die nur f\u00fcr eine Nacht, da am n\u00e4chsten Tage einige\nViehtreiber erwartet w\u00fcrden. Da er damit zufrieden war, gab man ihm\nein Dienstm\u00e4dchen mit einer Kerze mit, um ihn hinaufzuf\u00fchren. Er war\nsehr gut angezogen und sah nicht aus, wie jemand, der gewohnt war, in\neiner Dachstube zu schlafen. Als er das Loch sah, stie\u00df er denn auch\neinen tiefen Seufzer aus und sagte zu dem M\u00e4dchen: \u00bbSo ist es mir noch\nnie gegangen.\u00ab Das M\u00e4dchen versicherte ihm, da\u00df sie\u2019s nun einmal nicht\nbesser h\u00e4tten, worauf er meinte: \u00bbSch\u00f6n, dann werd\u2019 ich mich eben\nbehelfen. Das ist eine schreckliche Zeit. Aber es ist ja nur f\u00fcr eine\nNacht.\u00ab Er setzte sich auf das Bett und bat das M\u00e4dchen, ihm einen Krug\nWarmbier zu bringen. Das M\u00e4dchen ging also hinunter, aber irgendwie kam\nihr der Auftrag aus dem Kopf, und sie ging nicht wieder nach oben.\nAls am n\u00e4chsten Morgen der Fremde nicht erschien, fragte irgend jemand\ndas M\u00e4dchen, das ihn hinaufgef\u00fchrt hatte, was denn aus ihm geworden\nsei? \u00bbDonnerwetter,\u00ab sagte sie, \u00bbich sollte ihm ein Warmbier bringen,\naber ich hab\u2019s ganz vergessen.\u00ab Darauf wurde sie oder jemand anders\nhinaufgeschickt, um nach ihm zu sehen. Da lag er, quer \u00fcber dem Bett,\nmaustot und schon fast kalt. Die Kleider hatte er ausgezogen, sein\nKinn war herabgefallen, die Augen starrten weitge\u00f6ffnet, und mit\neiner Hand krallte er sich in die Bettdecke. Es war ganz klar, da\u00df er\ngleich, nachdem das M\u00e4dchen ihn verlassen hatte, gestorben war, und\nh\u00e4tte sie ihm sein Warmbier gebracht, so w\u00fcrde sie ihn wahrscheinlich\nschon als Leiche gefunden haben. Der Schrecken im Hause war nat\u00fcrlich\ngro\u00df, wie sich jeder vorstellen kann, denn bisher waren sie von der\nSeuche verschont geblieben. Aber jetzt war die Ansteckung im Hause\nund verbreitete sich sofort in der Umgebung. Ich wei\u00df nicht mehr, wie\nviele im Hause selbst starben, aber ich glaube, da\u00df das M\u00e4dchen, auch\naus Schrecken, sich gleich hinlegte, und ein paar andere auch. Bisher\nwaren in Islington in der vorigen Woche nur 2 an der Pest gestorben,\nin der n\u00e4chsten waren es schon 14. Das war in der Woche von 11. zum\nF\u00fcr nicht wenige Familien gab es ein Auskunftsmittel, wenn ihre H\u00e4user\nverseucht wurden, und das war so. Die Leute, die beim ersten Ausbruch\nder Pest aufs Land hinaus geflohen waren, um sich dort bei ihren\nFreunden zu verbergen, \u00fcbergaben meistens irgend jemand, sei es einem\nNachbarn oder einem Verwandten, die Aufsicht \u00fcber ihr Haus, ihre Waren,\noder was es sonst war. Einzelne H\u00e4user wurden tats\u00e4chlich vollst\u00e4ndig\nverschlossen, vor die T\u00fcren kamen Vorh\u00e4ngeschl\u00f6sser, Fenster und\nEing\u00e4nge wurden mit Brettern vernagelt, und nur selten vertraute man\nsie der Aufsicht der gew\u00f6hnlichen W\u00e4chter oder Kirchspielbeamten an.\nMan berechnete, da\u00df nicht weniger als etwa 1000 H\u00e4user von ihren\nInwohnern verlassen wurden, Stadt und Vorst\u00e4dte sowie das andere Ufer\nin Surrey zusammengenommen. Dabei waren die Einzelmieter nat\u00fcrlich\nnicht mitgez\u00e4hlt, so da\u00df die Gesamtzahl der Gefl\u00fcchteten wohl auf\nrund 200000 angenommen werden konnte. Dar\u00fcber sp\u00e4ter noch mehr, f\u00fcr\njetzt m\u00f6chte ich nur bemerken, da\u00df jene, die \u00fcber zwei H\u00e4user die\nAufsicht hatten, in Krankheitsf\u00e4llen regelm\u00e4\u00dfig die gesund Gebliebenen,\nKinder, Dienerschaft und alles in das zweite Haus schafften, ehe sie\ndem Visitator oder einem anderen Beamten von der Verseuchung Anzeige\nmachten. Das taten sie erst dann, besorgten eine Pflegerin f\u00fcr die\nerkrankte Person und sahen zu, da\u00df sie au\u00dferdem noch irgend jemand\nfanden, was f\u00fcr Geld leicht m\u00f6glich war, der sich mit einschlie\u00dfen lie\u00df\nund nach dem Rechten sah, falls jene sterben sollte.\nAuf diese Weise wurden in vielen F\u00e4llen ganze Familien gerettet,\ndie, wenn sie mit dem Kranken abgesperrt worden w\u00e4ren, unvermeidlich\nzugrunde gegangen w\u00e4ren. Andererseits war das ein anderer Nachteil der\nH\u00e4userabsperrung. Denn die Angst, eingeschlossen zu werden, lie\u00df viele\nmit ihren Familien fliehen, die, wennschon es noch nicht offen zutage\ntrat und sie auch noch leidlich sich wohl f\u00fchlten, doch die Ansteckung\nschon im Leibe trugen. Da sie nun v\u00f6llig frei waren, herumzugehen wo\nsie wollten, dabei aber doch gen\u00f6tigt waren, die n\u00e4heren Umst\u00e4nde zu\nverbergen, auch wohl selbst gar nicht wu\u00dften, wie es um sie stand,\nso steckten sie wieder andere an und verbreiteten die Seuche in der\nschrecklichsten Weise.\nIn meinem Hausstand hatte ich nur eine \u00e4ltliche Person, die mir den\nHaushalt f\u00fchrte, ein Dienstm\u00e4dchen und zwei Lehrlinge, und wie nun die\nSeuche um uns herum zunahm, dachte ich oft bek\u00fcmmert dar\u00fcber nach, was\nich tun und wie ich handeln sollte. All das Grauenvolle, das ich auf\nmeinen G\u00e4ngen durch die Stra\u00dfen sehen mu\u00dfte, hatte mein Herz mit tiefem\nEntsetzen erf\u00fcllt und mit Furcht vor der Seuche selbst, die wirklich\nf\u00fcrchterlich genug war, viel \u00e4rger als andere Krankheiten. Wenn die\nGeschw\u00fclste, die meist am Genick oder in der Leistengegend auftraten,\nhart wurden und nicht aufgingen, verursachte das solche Schmerzen, wie\nsie die raffinierteste Tortur kaum h\u00e4tte hervorbringen k\u00f6nnen. Manche,\ndie sie nicht aushalten konnten, sprangen zum Fenster heraus, schossen\nsich eine Kugel vor den Kopf oder r\u00e4umten sich auf andere Weise aus\ndem Leben, wie ich selbst nur zu oft gesehen habe. Andere, die unf\u00e4hig\nwaren, sich zu beherrschen, suchten ihre Qual durch best\u00e4ndiges Gebr\u00fcll\nzu erleichtern. Es war unsagbar gr\u00e4\u00dflich, das Geschrei dieser Elenden\nzu h\u00f6ren, wenn man durch die Stra\u00dfen ging. Es ging durch Mark und Bein,\nund dabei mu\u00dfte man noch daran denken, da\u00df das gleiche schauerliche\nSchicksal jeden Augenblick \u00fcber einen selber kommen k\u00f6nne.\nIch mu\u00df gestehen, da\u00df mir mein Entschlu\u00df nun leid wurde, da\u00df mich der\nMut verlie\u00df, und ich oft meine Unbesonnenheit bereute, in der Stadt\ngeblieben zu sein, wenn beim Nachhausekommen die entsetzlichen Bilder\nauf meine Seele dr\u00fcckten. Oft w\u00fcnschte ich, ich h\u00e4tte mich meinem\nBruder und seiner Familie angeschlossen.\nManchmal fa\u00dfte ich in meiner Angst den Entschlu\u00df, nicht mehr auszugehen\nund blieb auch drei oder vier Tage dabei. Diese verbrachte ich dann im\nGebet und ernstlichem Nachdenken \u00fcber die Gnade Gottes, die mich bisher\nerhalten hatte. Au\u00dferdem las ich viel und besch\u00e4ftigte mich damit, ein\nTagebuch zu f\u00fchren, in das ich alle t\u00e4glichen Vorf\u00e4lle eintrug, und das\nmir auch zur Abfassung dieses Buches gedient hat. Daneben schrieb ich\nBetrachtungen \u00fcber theologische Fragen, wie sie mir in solcher Zeit\neinfielen. Ich selbst hatte davon einen gro\u00dfen Nutzen, aber f\u00fcr fremde\nAugen sind sie nicht bestimmt, und daher sei dar\u00fcber geschwiegen.\nIch besa\u00df einen sehr guten Freund, einen Arzt, namens Heath, den ich in\ndieser Ungl\u00fcckszeit h\u00e4ufig aufsuchte. Ich bin ihm vielen Dank schuldig\nf\u00fcr manchen Ratschlag, den er mir gab, um beim Ausgehen die Ansteckung\nzu vermeiden. So hatte ich auf der Stra\u00dfe best\u00e4ndig ein Gegenmittel\nim Mund. Dieser Dr. Heath kam auch oft zu mir, und da er ein ebenso\nguter Christ als Arzt war, war mir seine Gesellschaft, mitten unter all\ndiesen Schrecken, sehr viel wert.\nEs war jetzt Anfang August, und die Seuche nahm in unserer Gegend\neine schreckliche Ausdehnung an. Dr. Heath, der h\u00f6rte, da\u00df ich h\u00e4ufig\nausging, ermahnte mich aufs Ernstlichste, mich mit meinem ganzen\nHaushalt einzuschlie\u00dfen, kein Fenster zu \u00f6ffnen, die Laden vorzulegen\nund die Vorh\u00e4nge herabzulassen. Zuerst aber, erkl\u00e4rte er mir, m\u00fc\u00dfte\nich, w\u00e4hrend Fenster und T\u00fcren offenstanden, die Zimmer mit Harz,\nPech, Schwefel und Schie\u00dfpulver gut ausr\u00e4uchern. Eine Weile folgten\nwir auch seinem Rat, da ich mir aber keine Vorr\u00e4te zugelegt hatte, war\nes unm\u00f6glich, g\u00e4nzlich zu Hause zu bleiben. Doch versuchte ich, diesem\nMangel, so gut es noch gehen wollte, abzuhelfen. Backen und Brauen\nkonnte ich zu Hause, so ging ich aus und kaufte zwei Sack Mehl, und\neinige Wochen lang bereiteten wir unser Brot im eigenen Backofen. Auch\nMalz hatte ich erstanden, und braute nun so viel Bier, als meine F\u00e4sser\nhalten konnten, was f\u00fcr f\u00fcnf oder sechs Wochen reichen mochte. So\nversorgte ich mich auch mit gesalzener Butter und Cheshire-K\u00e4se, aber\nFleisch hatte ich nicht, und die Seuche w\u00fctete so entsetzlich unter den\nSchl\u00e4chtern auf der gegen\u00fcberliegenden Stra\u00dfenseite, wo sie ihre L\u00e4den\nhatten, da\u00df es nicht ratsam war, sich hinzuwagen.\nIch darf nicht verschweigen, da\u00df diese Notwendigkeit, sich mit\nLebensmitteln zu versehen und dazu auszugehen, in hohem Grade zur\nVerseuchung der Stadt beitrug, denn die Leute steckten sich dabei\ngegenseitig an, und auch die Lebensmittel waren nach meiner \u00dcberzeugung\noft verpestet. Daher glaube ich auch nicht, trotzdem es oft mit\nBestimmtheit versichert wurde, da\u00df die Leute, die Lebensmittel von\nau\u00dfen her in die Stadt brachten, niemals angesteckt wurden. Das wei\u00df\nich sicher, da\u00df die Metzger in Whitechapel, wo am meisten geschlachtet\nwurde, von der Seuche in solchem Grade heimgesucht worden waren, da\u00df\nnur ganz wenige L\u00e4den noch offen waren. Die \u00dcberlebenden schlachteten\nin Mile-End und brachten das Fleisch auf Pferden zu Markt.\nWie dem nun aber auch sei, die arme Bev\u00f6lkerung konnte sich keine\nVorr\u00e4te aufspeichern und war gezwungen, auf den Markt zum Einkaufen\nzu gehen, oder Kinder und Dienstboten hinzuschicken, und das t\u00e4glich.\nSo kamen Haufen von verseuchten Leuten auf den Markt, und viele, die\ngesund hingegangen waren, brachten von dort den Tod heim.\nFreilich beobachtete man alle m\u00f6gliche Vorsicht. Wenn einer ein St\u00fcck\nFleisch kaufte, lie\u00df er sich\u2019s nicht vom Metzger geben, sondern nahm\nes selbst vom Haken. Und der Metzger ber\u00fchrte das Geld daf\u00fcr nicht,\nsondern es mu\u00dfte in einen Topf mit Essig gelegt werden, der eigens\ndazu da stand. Jeder K\u00e4ufer hatte sich mit kleinem Gelde versehen,\num das Wechseln unn\u00f6tig zu machen. Man trug Flaschen mit allerlei\nGer\u00fcchen in der Hand und gebrauchte auch sonst jede nur erdenkliche\nVorsichtsma\u00dfregel, aber f\u00fcr die Armen kam das alles nicht in Frage, und\nsie waren jeder Gefahr ausgesetzt.\nZahllose Schauergeschichten liefen dar\u00fcber um. Zuweilen fiel ein Mann\noder eine Frau auf dem offenen Marktplatz tot um. Denn viele Leute\nhatten die Pest in sich, ohne es zu wissen, bis der inwendige kalte\nBrand sich auf die wichtigsten K\u00f6rperteile warf, worauf sie dann\nin wenigen Minuten starben. Manchen ging es so, ohne das geringste\nVorzeichen, andere hatten vielleicht noch Zeit, die n\u00e4chste Bude zu\nerreichen oder sich an irgendeiner T\u00fcr zusammenzukauern, ehe der Tod\nsie ereilte.\nDas kam so oft vor, als die Seuche bei uns ihren H\u00f6hepunkt erreicht\nhatte, da\u00df man kaum \u00fcber die Stra\u00dfe gehen konnte, ohne da und dort\nauf der Erde Leichen liegen zu sehen. Im Anfang blieben die Leute\nnoch stehen und riefen den Nachbarn zu, herauszukommen, bald aber\nbeachtete man es kaum mehr. Nur da\u00df man acht gab, nicht in die N\u00e4he des\nLeichnams zu kommen, oder, wenn das in einer engen Gasse oder einem\nDurchgang nicht m\u00f6glich war, wieder umkehrte. In solchen F\u00e4llen blieb\ndie Leiche liegen, bis die damit Beauftragten benachrichtigt wurden\nund sie holten. Oder auch bis zur Nacht, wenn die Leichentr\u00e4ger mit\nihrem Karren des Wegs kamen und sie mitnahmen. Dann wurden erst von\ndiesen vermessenen Gesellen die Taschen geleert und, wenn der Tote gut\nangezogen war, ihm die Kleider abgezogen.\nUm aber noch einmal vom Markt zu sprechen, so hatten die Fleischer\nimmer irgendeinen Amtsdiener zur Hand, der einen pl\u00f6tzlich Verstorbenen\nauf einen Schubkarren lud und ihn zum n\u00e4chsten Kirchhof fuhr. Das\ngeschah so h\u00e4ufig, da\u00df man jene, die tot auf den Stra\u00dfen oder auf dem\nFelde gefunden wurden, gar nicht mehr ins Sterberegister eintrug, sie\nverloren sich eben in der Masse der Pestopfer.\nNach und nach steigerte sich aber die Seuche in solchem Grade, da\u00df nur\nnoch wenige Lebensmittel zu Markt gebracht wurden. Auch die K\u00e4ufer\nwurden selten, und der Lordmayor verf\u00fcgte, da\u00df die Leute vom Lande,\ndie etwas brachten, vor der Stadt aufgehalten w\u00fcrden, um dort ihre\nWaren zu verkaufen und dann sofort wieder umzukehren. Das war ihnen\nauch sehr recht, denn so schlugen sie ihre Waren schon beim Eintritt\nin die Stadt los, ja selbst auf dem Felde, besonders \u00fcber Whitechapel\nhinaus in Spittlefields. Was man jetzt so nennt, war damals wirklich\nfreies Feld, ebenso in Woods Close bei Islington, wohin der Lordmayor,\ndie Ratsherren und Beamten ihre Diener schickten, um f\u00fcr ihre Familien\neinzukaufen. Diese Ma\u00dfregel kam dem Landvolk sehr gelegen. Die Leute\nbrachten nun alle Arten von Lebensmitteln und kamen nur selten zu\nSchaden, was wahrscheinlich zu den wunderbaren Geschichten \u00fcber ihre\nAnsteckungsunf\u00e4higkeit beitrug.\nWas nun meinen kleinen Hausstand anbetrifft, so hatte ich mir, wie\ngesagt, Vorr\u00e4te von Brot, Butter, K\u00e4se und Bier zugelegt und folgte nun\ndem Rate meines Freundes, zu Hause zu bleiben. Lieber wollte ich mich\nein paar Monate ohne Fleischnahrung behelfen, als sie mit Gefahr meines\nLebens bezahlen zu m\u00fcssen.\nAber obwohl ich meine Hausgenossen abschlo\u00df, konnte ich selbst meine\nNeugierde doch nicht g\u00e4nzlich unbefriedigt lassen. Ich mu\u00dfte hinaus,\nzwar nicht so h\u00e4ufig wie fr\u00fcher und obschon ich stets mit schwerem\nHerzen und ganz tr\u00fcbsinnig wieder nach Hause kam.\nEinen Grund auszugehen hatte ich ja, n\u00e4mlich in dem Hause meines\nBruders in der Coleman-Stra\u00dfe nachzusehen, das er meiner Aufsicht\nunterstellt hatte. Anfangs ging ich t\u00e4glich hin, sp\u00e4ter aber nur noch\nein oder zweimal w\u00f6chentlich.\nAuf diesen G\u00e4ngen hatte ich die schrecklichsten Anblicke: Leute, die\ntot auf der Stra\u00dfe zusammenfielen, Geschrei und Geheul von Weibern, die\nin ihrer Todesangst die Fenster aufrissen und in herzzerrei\u00dfender Weise\nhinausjammerten, kurz, es ist nicht zu beschreiben, zu welchen Anf\u00e4llen\ndie Verzweiflung die armen Leute brachte.\nAls ich einmal durch den Hof von Tokenhouse in Lothbury kam, flog\ngerade \u00fcber meinem Kopfe ein Fensterladen auf, und eine Weiberstimme\nschrie, da\u00df mir das Blut in den Adern vor Entsetzen gerann, dreimal\nhintereinander: \u00bbO Tod -- Tod -- Tod!\u00ab Kein Mensch war auf der Stra\u00dfe,\nauch alle Fenster blieben geschlossen, denn niemand war mehr neugierig,\nund zu helfen war ja doch nicht. So ging denn auch ich weiter.\nIn der n\u00e4chsten Stra\u00dfe gab es auch wieder ein f\u00fcrchterliches Geschrei.\nIch konnte h\u00f6ren, wie in einer Wohnung Kinder und Frauen durcheinander\nheulten wie die Wahnsinnigen. Pl\u00f6tzlich wurde gegen\u00fcber der Laden von\neinem Dachfenster zur\u00fcckgeschlagen und jemand fragte, was es denn\ng\u00e4be? Darauf kam aus dem ersten Hause die Antwort: \u00bbO Gott, mein alter\nHerr hat sich erh\u00e4ngt.\u00ab Der andere fragte: \u00bbIst er denn schon tot?\u00ab und\n\u00bbJa, tot und schon kalt!\u00ab t\u00f6nte es zur\u00fcck. Dieser Mann war Kaufmann,\nstellvertretender Ratsherr und sehr reich gewesen. Ich will seinen\nNamen nicht nennen aus R\u00fccksicht auf die Familie, der es jetzt wieder\nganz gut geht.\nAber das ist nur ein Fall. Es ist nicht zu glauben, was sich alles\nt\u00e4glich ereignete. Leute, die durch die Glut des Fiebers oder die\nQualen der Geschw\u00fclste den Verstand verloren, Hand an sich legten, zum\nFenster heraussprangen, sich eine Kugel durch den Kopf jagten, M\u00fctter,\ndie in ihrem Wahnsinn die eigenen Kinder umbrachten; manche, die am\nKummer oder an Entsetzen zugrunde gingen, ohne im mindesten angesteckt\nzu sein; andere, die bl\u00f6dsinnig wurden oder in Schwermut verfielen.\nDie Qual der Schwellungen war sehr heftig, zuweilen ganz unertr\u00e4glich.\nMan kann ruhig behaupten, da\u00df die \u00c4rzte manche der armen Gesch\u00f6pfe\neinfach zu Tode marterten. Wenn die Geschw\u00fclste hart wurden, legten\nsie starke Zugpflaster oder Umschl\u00e4ge auf, um sie zu erweichen, und\nwenn das nicht half, schnitten sie an ihnen in der scheu\u00dflichsten Weise\nherum. Manchmal waren diese Geschw\u00fclste so hart, da\u00df kein Instrument\ndurchkam, dann brannten sie sie mit \u00c4tzmitteln, da\u00df die Leute nicht\nselten w\u00e4hrend der Operation verr\u00fcckt wurden. Oft war niemand da, sie\nim Bett festzuhalten, so da\u00df sie Gelegenheit fanden, mit sich ein Ende\nzu machen, andere rasten nackt auf die Stra\u00dfe und sprangen in den Flu\u00df,\nwenn sie nicht von einem W\u00e4chter aufgehalten wurden.\nEs ging einem durch Mark und Bein, das St\u00f6hnen und Br\u00fcllen der so\nGemarterten zu h\u00f6ren, und doch waren sie von allen an der Seuche\nErkrankten noch am besten dran. Denn wenn die Geschw\u00fclste zum\nAufbrechen oder, wie die \u00c4rzte sagten, zur Entleerung des Eiters nach\nau\u00dfen, gebracht werden konnten, wurde der Kranke meistens wieder\ngesund. Diejenigen aber, die, wie jenes junge M\u00e4dchen, den Tod schon\nim Leibe trugen, so da\u00df die Flecken allm\u00e4hlich herauskamen, f\u00fchlten\nsich oft bis zum letzten Augenblick ganz wohl. Sie fielen hin wie die\nEpileptiker oder als h\u00e4tte sie der Schlag getroffen. Bei solchen kam\ndas Ende ganz pl\u00f6tzlich. Gerade, da\u00df sie noch irgendwo sich hinkauern\nkonnten, vielleicht da\u00df sie noch ihre Wohnung erreichten, dann wurde es\nihnen schwach, und sie starben. Ihr Tod war so wie beim kalten Brand,\nin Bewu\u00dftlosigkeit oder fast wie im Traum. Sie wu\u00dften kaum etwas davon,\nda\u00df sie angesteckt waren, bis sich der Brand durch den ganzen K\u00f6rper\nverbreitet hatte. Auch die \u00c4rzte konnten erst dann Sicherheit geben,\nwie es mit ihnen stand, nachdem sie ihre Brust oder andere K\u00f6rperteile\nentbl\u00f6\u00dft und darauf die Merkmale der Pest gesehen hatten.\nIn dieser Zeit wurden die schauerlichsten Geschichten erz\u00e4hlt von\nW\u00e4chtern und gemieteten Pflegerinnen, die die Kranken in der\nsch\u00e4ndlichsten Weise behandelten, sie verhungern lie\u00dfen, erstickten\noder auf andere Weise ums Leben brachten. Auch von den W\u00e4chtern, denen\ndie Aufsicht \u00fcber die abgesperrten H\u00e4user \u00fcbertragen war, sagte man,\nda\u00df sie, wenn nur ein Kranker im Hause war, einbrachen, ihn ermordeten\nund gleich auf den Totenkarren warfen, ehe der Ungl\u00fcckliche noch ganz\nerkaltet war.\nIch glaube auch, da\u00df manche solche Sch\u00e4ndlichkeiten von ihnen begangen\nwurden. Zwei wurden festgenommen, starben aber, ehe die Verhandlung\ngegen sie stattfand. Drei andere sollen wegen Mordes hingerichtet\nworden sein. Aber h\u00e4ufig waren solche Verbrechen nicht, wie man sp\u00e4ter\nbehauptet hat. Und was h\u00e4tte es auch f\u00fcr einen Sinn gehabt, Leute\numzubringen, die g\u00e4nzlich hilflos waren und in den meisten F\u00e4llen doch\nsterben mu\u00dften?\nLeugnen will ich ja nicht, da\u00df R\u00e4ubereien und \u00e4hnliche schlimme Dinge\nan der Tagesordnung waren. In gewissen Menschen ist die Habsucht so\nstark, da\u00df sie auf jede Gefahr hin stehlen und rauben. Besonders in\nH\u00e4user, von wo alle Inwohner schon als Leichen hinausgetragen worden\nwaren, pflegten sie einzubrechen, ohne an die Ansteckungsgefahr zu\ndenken, und schleppten selbst die Kleider der Gestorbenen und ihr\nBettzeug fort.\nSo war es der Fall bei einer Familie in Houndsditch, wo man einen Mann\nund seine Tochter, deren Angeh\u00f6rige schon fr\u00fcher dem Leichenkarren\nverfallen waren, splitternackt in zwei Kammern auffand, tot auf der\nErde, w\u00e4hrend all das Bettzeug verschwunden war. Wahrscheinlich hatten\ndie Diebe die Leichen von den Betten heruntergeworfen und liegen lassen.\nBemerkenswert ist, da\u00df w\u00e4hrend der ganzen Pestzeit die Weiber sich\nvor allen durch ihre Verworfenheit auszeichneten. Da eine Menge von\nihnen als Pflegerinnen untergekommen war, hatten sie Gelegenheit, zu\nstehlen, wo es nur anging. Einige wurden \u00f6ffentlich ausgepeitscht,\nstatt da\u00df man sie zum warnenden Beispiel geh\u00e4ngt h\u00e4tte. Bis endlich die\nKirchspielbeamten beauftragt wurden, die Pflegerinnen f\u00fcr die Kranken\nauszusuchen und sich erst nach ihrer Tauglichkeit zu erkundigen, so da\u00df\nsie zur Rechenschaft gezogen werden konnten, wenn in dem betreffenden\nHause etwas Verd\u00e4chtiges vorkam.\nFreilich erstreckten sich diese Diebst\u00e4hle meist nur auf Kleider,\nBettzeug und etwa herumliegendes Geld und Kostbarkeiten; zu einer\nallgemeinen Auspl\u00fcnderung des Hauses kam es nicht. Von einer Pflegerin\nk\u00f6nnte ich erz\u00e4hlen, die sp\u00e4ter auf ihrem Totenbette mit dem gr\u00f6\u00dften\nAbscheu die R\u00e4ubereien eingestand, die sie w\u00e4hrend der Aus\u00fcbung ihres\nBerufes begangen hatte, und durch die sie recht wohlhabend geworden\nwar. Was aber Morde anbelangt, so glaube ich nicht, da\u00df au\u00dfer den schon\nberichteten, irgendwelche sonst sich ereigneten.\nAllerdings wurde mir von einer Pflegerin erz\u00e4hlt, die ein nasses Tuch\nauf das Gesicht der Kranken dr\u00fcckte, und sie so umbrachte, und von\neiner andern, die ein junges Frauenzimmer erstickte, als es ohnm\u00e4chtig\ndalag, auch von sonstigen Greueltaten durch Verhungernlassen und\nwas dergleichen mehr ist, aber diese Geschichten hatten immer zwei\nEigenheiten, die sie verd\u00e4chtig machten, einmal, da\u00df ihr Schauplatz bei\nn\u00e4herer Erkundigung stets an das andere und entfernteste Ende der Stadt\nverlegt wurde, dann, da\u00df die Einzelheiten unweigerlich dieselben waren,\nso bei der Geschichte von dem nassen Tuch und der Erw\u00fcrgung des jungen\nFrauenzimmers. Ich f\u00fcr meinen Teil wenigstens bin \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df mehr\nvom M\u00e4rchen als von Wahrheit darin war. --\nEin Bekannter aus meiner Nachbarschaft, der Geld von einem\nLadenbesitzer in der Whitecro\u00df-Stra\u00dfe zu fordern hatte, schickte seinen\nLehrling, einen Jungen von etwa 18 Jahren, hin, um den Versuch zu\nmachen, zu seinem Gelde zu kommen. Der Junge kam an die T\u00fcr, und da er\nsie verschlossen fand, pumperte er mit Gewalt dagegen. Er glaubte auch,\nirgend etwas innen zu h\u00f6ren, da er aber nicht sicher war, so wartete er\neine Weile und wiederholte den L\u00e4rm so lange, bis er jemand die Treppe\nherabkommen h\u00f6rte.\nEndlich erschien der Hausherr an der T\u00fcre. Er hatte nur seine\nUnterhosen an, eine gelbe Flanellweste, keine Str\u00fcmpfe, dagegen ein\npaar Pantoffel, eine wei\u00dfe M\u00fctze auf dem Kopfe und, wie der Junge\nsagte, auf seinem Gesichte den Tod.\n\u00bbWarum l\u00e4\u00dft du mich nicht in Ruhe?\u00ab fragte er, w\u00e4hrend er die T\u00fcre\n\u00f6ffnete. Der Junge antwortete ein wenig verlegen, er k\u00e4me von dem\nund dem, um die Schuld einzutreiben, von der jener wohl wissen\nwerde. \u00bbSch\u00f6n, mein Junge,\u00ab sagte die lebende Leiche, \u00bbgeh\u2019, wenn du\nvorbeikommst, bei der Cripplegate-Kirche vor, und sage dort, man solle\ndie Glocke l\u00e4uten.\u00ab Damit schlo\u00df er die T\u00fcre, ging wieder hinauf und\nstarb noch den gleichen Tag, vielleicht sogar in derselben Stunde. Der\nJunge hat\u2019s mir selber erz\u00e4hlt, und ich habe keinen Grund, ihm nicht\nzu glauben. Damals war die Seuche noch nicht auf ihrer H\u00f6he. Es mu\u00df,\nscheint mir, im Juni gewesen sein, als man die Leichenkarren noch\nnicht eingef\u00fchrt hatte, und noch die Glocke f\u00fcr jeden Toten l\u00e4utete.\nSchon im Laufe des Juli wurde das anders, denn bei einer w\u00f6chentlichen\nSterbeziffer von \u00fcber 550 mu\u00dfte man wohl oder \u00fcbel mit den richtigen\nBeerdigungen aufh\u00f6ren, ob es sich um arm oder reich handelte. --\nIch habe schon erz\u00e4hlt, da\u00df die Diebereien und R\u00e4ubereien haupts\u00e4chlich\nvon Weibern ausgef\u00fchrt wurden. Eines Tages, ungef\u00e4hr um die elfte\nStunde, kam ich zu dem Hause meines Bruders in der Coleman-Stra\u00dfe,\nwohin ich \u00f6fters ging, um zu sehen, ob alles in Ordnung w\u00e4re. Vor dem\nHause befand sich ein kleiner, mit einer Ziegelsteinmauer umgebener\nHof, zu dem eine T\u00fcre f\u00fchrte. In dem Hof waren mehrere Schuppen, worin\nmein Bruder seine Waren aufbewahrte. In dem einen befanden sich einige\nKisten mit hohen Deckelh\u00fcten f\u00fcr Frauen, die auf dem Lande, ich glaube\nf\u00fcr den Export, gemacht wurden.\nAls ich mich dem Hause meines Bruders n\u00e4herte, war ich erstaunt, drei\noder vier Frauen zu begegnen, die hohe Deckelh\u00fcte auf dem Kopfe trugen;\neine oder zwei von ihnen hatten auch noch welche in der Hand. Da ich\nsie aber nicht aus dem Hause selbst kommen sah, auch nicht wu\u00dfte, da\u00df\nmein Bruder solche H\u00fcte f\u00fchrte, sprach ich sie nicht an, sondern ging\nmeines Weges weiter im Bogen um sie herum, wie man\u2019s aus Angst vor der\nAnsteckung jetzt gew\u00f6hnlich tat. Als ich aber an die T\u00fcr kam, traf ich\nauf noch eine Frau mit gleich ein paar von diesen H\u00fcten in der Hand.\n\u00bbDarf ich wissen, werte Frau, was Ihr hier zu suchen habt?\u00ab fragte ich.\n\u00bbEs sind noch mehr Leute hier,\u00ab antwortete sie, \u00bbund ich habe hier\nebensoviel zu suchen wie jene.\u00ab Auf das hin schwieg ich und beeilte\nmich, an die T\u00fcr zu kommen, und die Frau ging weg. Gerade, als ich an\nder T\u00fcr war, sah ich zwei weitere Frauen \u00fcber den Hof kommen, auch mit\nH\u00fcten auf dem Kopfe und unter dem Arme. Nun schlug ich die T\u00fcr hinter\nmir zu, die einschnappte, und wandte mich an die beiden. \u00bbWas habt ihr\nhier zu tun?\u00ab fragte ich und nahm ihnen die H\u00fcte weg. Die eine von\nihnen sah gar nicht nach einer Diebin aus, das mu\u00df ich gestehen. \u00bbEs\nwar wohl unrecht von uns,\u00ab entgegnete sie, \u00bbaber man sagte uns, da\u00df die\nSachen hier herrenlos w\u00e4ren. Nehmt sie nur wieder und seht dorthin,\nwenn\u2019s Euch beliebt, dort gibt\u2019s noch mehr Kunden.\u00ab Sie fing dabei zu\nweinen an und machte dazu ein so j\u00e4mmerliches Gesicht, da\u00df ich die T\u00fcre\n\u00f6ffnete und die zwei gehen hie\u00df, denn sie taten mir wirklich leid. Als\nich dann aber nach dem Schuppen zu schaute, erblickte ich sechs oder\nsieben andere, die sich alle mit H\u00fcten ausstaffierten, so ruhig und\nunbefangen, als wenn sie bei einem Hutmacher w\u00e4ren und f\u00fcr ihr gutes\nGeld etwas kauften.\nIch war nicht wenig in Verlegenheit, die andern aber auch, wenn auch\nnicht aus demselben Grunde. Sie meinten alle, sie k\u00e4men aus der\nNachbarschaft, h\u00e4tten geh\u00f6rt, da\u00df es hier Sachen g\u00e4be, die niemand\ngeh\u00f6rten und mehr dergleichen. Zuerst fuhr ich gewaltig auf sie los,\nging zur T\u00fcre, schlo\u00df ab und drohte, sie alle im Schuppen einzusperren\nund dann die Polizei herbeizuholen. Nun verlegten sie sich aufs Bitten,\nsagten, sie h\u00e4tten die T\u00fcr offen gefunden, und sicher w\u00e4re schon fr\u00fcher\njemand eingebrochen, der es auf viel Wertvolleres abgesehen hatte.\nUnwahrscheinlich war das gerade nicht, denn das Schlo\u00df war kaput und\ndas Vorh\u00e4ngeschlo\u00df auch verdorben, und schlie\u00dflich waren noch nicht\nrecht viele H\u00fcte gestohlen worden. So \u00fcberlegte ich mir denn, da\u00df man\nin einer solchen Zeit nicht so strenge sein d\u00fcrfe, und da\u00df ich im Falle\neiner Anzeige ein ewiges Herumgelaufe h\u00e4tte, von einem zum andern,\n\u00fcber deren Gesundheit ich nichts wu\u00dfte, und daher leicht, statt einen\nSchadenersatz zu bekommen, mein eigenes Leben verlieren k\u00f6nne. Ich\nbegn\u00fcgte mich also, die Namen und Wohnungen von einigen aufzuschreiben\nund ihnen anzudrohen, da\u00df mein Bruder sie zur Rechenschaft ziehen\nw\u00fcrde, wenn er zur\u00fcckkehrte.\nDann zog ich andere Saiten auf und fragte sie, woher sie den Mut\nhern\u00e4hmen, in dieser Ungl\u00fcckszeit und angesichts von Gottes Gericht,\nsich so aufzuf\u00fchren. Vielleicht st\u00e4nde die Pest schon vor ihrer T\u00fcre\noder w\u00e4re schon ins Haus gedrungen, und der Leichenkarren hielte in\nwenigen Stunden davor, um sie auf den Kirchhof zu bringen.\nIch kann nicht sagen, da\u00df meine Rede einen gro\u00dfen Eindruck auf sie\nmachte. Sp\u00e4ter kamen noch zwei M\u00e4nner aus der Nachbarschaft, die von\ndem Vorfall geh\u00f6rt hatten und einige der Frauen kannten. Sie konnten\nmir ihre Namen und Wohnungen angeben; es scheint aber nicht, da\u00df\ndie Frauen mich vorher, als ich diese niederschrieb, angeschwindelt\nhatten. Bei diesen beiden M\u00e4nnern f\u00e4llt mir etwas Merkw\u00fcrdiges ein.\nDer eine hie\u00df John Hayward und war seines Zeichens zweiter K\u00fcster\nim Kirchspiel von St. Stephan, wobei unter \u00bbzweiter K\u00fcster\u00ab damals\nder Totengr\u00e4ber und Leichentr\u00e4ger verstanden wurde. Er half bei der\nBeerdigung s\u00e4mtlicher Leichen in diesem gro\u00dfen Kirchspiel, und als das\nf\u00f6rmliche Beerdigen aufh\u00f6rte, begleitete er den Leichenkarren und holte\ndie Toten aus den H\u00e4usern und Wohnungen. Oft konnte er mit dem Karren\nnicht bis ans Haus kommen, denn in der ganzen Gegend gab es und gibt\nes jetzt noch von ganz London die meisten Durchg\u00e4nge, wo kein Karren\nPlatz fand und man die Leichen oft eine lange Strecke weit tragen\nmu\u00dfte. Oft gebrauchte man auch eine Art von Schubkarren, auf den man\ndie Toten legte und bis zum Karren hinfuhr. All das machte der Mann,\nund bekam doch niemals die Pest, sondern lebte nach ihrem Erl\u00f6schen\nnoch gut 20 Jahre, blieb auch bis zu seinem Tode im Amte. Sein Weib war\nzur gleichen Zeit Pflegerin, bekannt wegen ihrer Ehrlichkeit, und auch\nsie wurde nicht angesteckt. Er selbst benutzte niemals ein Gegenmittel\ngegen die Seuche, als da\u00df er Knoblauch und Raute im Munde hatte und\nviel rauchte. Sein Weib pflegte sich den Kopf mit Essig zu waschen und\nihre Haube best\u00e4ndig mit Essig anzufeuchten. Wurde der Gestank der\nKranken zu stark, so schnupfte sie mit der Nase Essig auf und hielt ein\nebenso getr\u00e4nktes Taschentuch vor den Mund. --\nMan mu\u00df zugeben, da\u00df die Armen, unter denen die Seuche am meisten\nw\u00fctete, sich auch am wenigsten darum scherten, und ihren Gesch\u00e4ften mit\neiner Art von rohem Mut nachgingen. Ich kann ihn nicht anders nennen,\ndenn er st\u00fctzte sich weder auf Vernunft noch Fr\u00f6mmigkeit. Selten,\nda\u00df sie irgendeine Vorsicht beobachteten. Wenn sie nur Besch\u00e4ftigung\nfanden, ganz gleich, ob sie gef\u00e4hrlich war, ob nicht. Zu den ersteren\ngeh\u00f6rte die Pflege der Kranken, die Bewachung der verseuchten H\u00e4user,\ndas Wegschaffen von Kranken nach dem Pesthause und das allerschlimmste,\ndas Wegf\u00fchren der Leichen in die Massengr\u00e4ber.\nEs war im Beisein jenes John Hayward, da\u00df die Geschichte mit dem\nSackpfeifer passierte, die den Leuten so viel Vergn\u00fcgen machte. Er\nversicherte mir, da\u00df sie wahr w\u00e4re. Es hie\u00df, er w\u00e4re blind gewesen,\naber John sagte mir, da\u00df das nicht der Fall war, nur w\u00e4re er ein\nelender, j\u00e4mmerlicher, armer Teufel gewesen. Nachts gegen zehn Uhr trat\ner gew\u00f6hnlich seine Runde an und wanderte mit seiner Sackpfeife von\nT\u00fcr zu T\u00fcr. Die Leute zogen ihn dann in die Wirtsh\u00e4user herein, wo er\nbekannt war, und gaben ihm zu essen und zu trinken und manchmal auch\nGeld, wof\u00fcr er dann sang, die Sackpfeife spielte und komische Reden\nhielt, die seine Zuh\u00f6rer belustigten. So lebte er, aber damals freilich\nwaren schlechte Zeiten f\u00fcr solche Unterhaltungen. Nichtsdestoweniger\ntrieb\u2019s der Bursche weiter, wie er\u2019s gewohnt war, ging aber dabei\nfast zugrunde. Fragte ihn jemand, wie\u2019s ihm ginge, so pflegte er zu\nantworten: noch h\u00e4tte ihn der Leichenkarren nicht geholt, aber f\u00fcr die\nn\u00e4chste Woche w\u00e4r\u2019s ihm versprochen.\nEines Nachts hatte er mehr als gew\u00f6hnlich zu essen bekommen, und da er\ndaran nicht mehr gew\u00f6hnt war, legte er sich auf das Dach einer Bude und\nschlief fest ein. Auf dasselbe Dach legte man nun, als durch die Glocke\ndas Nahen des Leichenkarrens sich anzeigte, einen Toten, der eben an\nder Pest gestorben war, weil die Leute wohl meinten, da l\u00e4ge so schon\neiner.\nAls nun John Hayward mit seinem Karren daherkam und zwei Tote auf\ndem Dach der Bude liegen sah, zog er sie mit dem Hacken, der dazu\ngebraucht wurde, herab und warf sie auf den Karren, was den Sackpfeifer\nin seinem Schlaf nicht st\u00f6rte. Dann ging\u2019s weiter, und sie luden, wie\nmir John erz\u00e4hlte, so viele Leichen auf, da\u00df sie den guten Sackpfeifer\nfast lebendig begruben. Er aber schlief immer weiter. Endlich gelangten\nsie zu dem Ort, wo die Leichen begraben werden sollten, wenn ich mich\nrecht erinnere, bei Mountmill. Als nun der Karren hielt und die Leute\nsich fertig machten, ihre Ladung in die Grube zu werfen, erwachte der\nBursche, machte mit einiger Anstrengung seinen Kopf unter den Leichen\nfrei, stemmte sich auf und rief: \u00bbHoho, wo bin ich denn?\u00ab Der eine\nvon den Leuten entsetzte sich dar\u00fcber nicht schlecht, John aber fa\u00dfte\nsich schnell und sagte: \u00bbBeim Himmel, da ist einer auf dem Karren, der\nnoch nicht ganz tot ist.\u00ab Darauf fragte der andere: \u00bbWer bist du?\u00ab --\n\u00bbIch bin der arme Sackpfeifer,\u00ab antwortete der Bursche, \u00bbaber wo bin\nich denn?\u00ab -- \u00bbWo du bist!\u00ab meinte John Hayward, \u00bbnun, du bist auf dem\nLeichenkarren und sollst jetzt begraben werden.\u00ab -- \u00bbJa, bin ich denn\ntot?\u00ab fragte er, worauf sie nun doch lachen mu\u00dften, obwohl sie zuerst\nnicht wenig erschrocken waren. Dann halfen sie dem Burschen herab, und\ner machte sich davon.\nIch wei\u00df, die Geschichte wird so erz\u00e4hlt, da\u00df er auf dem Karren zu\nspielen anfing, und die Tr\u00e4ger dadurch derma\u00dfen in Schrecken setzte,\nda\u00df sie davon liefen, aber davon wu\u00dfte John Hayward nichts. Er erz\u00e4hlte\ndie Sache genau so, wie ich sie wiedergegeben habe. --\nVon dem Augenblick an, als man sah, da\u00df die Seuche sich \u00fcber die ganze\nStadt verbreiten w\u00fcrde, und jeder floh, der es nur irgend m\u00f6glich\nmachen konnte, stockte aller Handel vollst\u00e4ndig, bis auf die Gesch\u00e4fte,\ndie zur unmittelbaren Erhaltung des Lebens notwendig waren.\nDas war eine so ernsthafte Sache, die die Lage der Bev\u00f6lkerung aufs\nSchwerste in Mitleidenschaft zog, da\u00df ich ins einzelne gehen mu\u00df. Ich\nwill in folgendem die verschiedenen Volksklassen zusammenfassen, die\ndadurch sofort in verzweifelte Umst\u00e4nde gerieten.\nEs wurden arbeitslos:\n1. Alle Werkmeister in den Fabriken, besonders jenen, die Putz,\nModeartikel, Kleider und M\u00f6bel herstellten; die Band- und Bortenwirker,\ndie Verfertiger von Gold- und Silberspitzen, die Gold- und\nSilberdrahtzieher, die N\u00e4herinnen, Putzmacherinnen, Schuhmacher, Hut-\nund Handschuhmacher, dann die Tapezierer, Kunsttischler, Spiegelglaser\nund zahllose Arbeiter, die von ihnen abhingen. Die Werkmeister h\u00f6rten\nauf und entlie\u00dfen alle ihre Arbeiter und Hilfsarbeiter.\n2. Da der Handel g\u00e4nzlich aufgeh\u00f6rt hatte (denn nur wenige Schiffe\nwagten sich noch flu\u00dfaufw\u00e4rts, und hinaus ging gar keines), wurden mit\neinem Male alle \u00fcberz\u00e4hligen Zollbeamten, die Bootf\u00fchrer, Fuhrleute,\nTr\u00e4ger und alle die sonst mit dem Handel zu tun hatten, entlassen und\narbeitslos.\n3. Alle Bauarbeiter hatten nichts mehr zu tun, denn niemand hatte\nLust, sich ein Haus zu bauen, zu einer Zeit, da Tausende leer standen,\nso da\u00df dadurch alle Maurer, Ziegeltr\u00e4ger, Schreiner, Zimmerleute,\nStukkateure, Zimmermaler, Glaser, Schlosser und Dachdecker \u00fcberfl\u00fcssig\nwurden.\n4. Da es keine Schiffahrt mehr gab, waren alle Seeleute ohne\nBesch\u00e4ftigung und mit ihnen alle jene, die mit dem Bau und der\nSchiffsausr\u00fcstung zu tun hatten, die Schiffszimmerleute, Kalfaterer,\nTau- und Segelmacher, Ankerschmiede, Figurenschnitzer, Kanonengie\u00dfer,\nLichtzieher u. a. m. Ihre Werkmeister konnten vielleicht von ihren\nErsparnissen leben, aber der Handel lag so g\u00e4nzlich darnieder, da\u00df alle\nArbeiter entlassen werden mu\u00dften. Dazu kam, da\u00df auch der Bootsverkehr\nauf dem Flusse aufgeh\u00f6rt hatte, und damit auch die Bootf\u00fchrer,\nLeichterf\u00fchrer, Bootbauer und was sonst noch damit zusammenh\u00e4ngt,\narbeitslos geworden waren.\n5. Alle schr\u00e4nkten sich soviel als m\u00f6glich ein, sowohl die Geflohenen\nals jene, die in der Stadt geblieben waren, so da\u00df eine Unmenge\nDienstpersonal, Tagel\u00f6hner, Buchhalter und besonders Dienstm\u00e4dchen\nentlassen wurden und ohne Hilfe auf der Stra\u00dfe lagen -- und das war\nwirklich eine schlimme Sache.\nIch k\u00f6nnte noch ausf\u00fchrlicher werden, aber es mag gen\u00fcgen, im\nallgemeinen festzustellen, da\u00df jedes Gesch\u00e4ft aufh\u00f6rte und damit\nden Armen die Arbeit und alle M\u00f6glichkeit, ihr Brot zu verdienen,\nabgeschnitten war. Im Anfang war denn auch ihre Lage schrecklich, bis\ndie Wohlt\u00e4tigkeit sie ein wenig milderte. Viele flohen gleich hinaus\naufs Land, die meisten aber blieben in London, bis der \u00e4u\u00dferste Mangel\nsie wegtrieb. Aber der Tod folgte ihnen auf ihrem Wege, und wirklich\nkonnten sie als Boten des Todes gelten, denn sie trugen die Ansteckung\nhinaus und verbreiteten sie bis in die entferntesten Orte des Reiches.\nVon den entlassenen Dienstm\u00e4dchen dagegen kamen viele als Pflegerinnen\nunter.\nIn gewisser Weise mu\u00df man, so traurig es klingt, es als eine Erl\u00f6sung\nbezeichnen, da\u00df die Pest in der schlimmsten Zeit 30--40000 dieser\narmen, arbeitslosen Leute hinwegraffte, die sonst eine unertr\u00e4gliche\nLast bedeutet h\u00e4tten. Die ganze Stadt h\u00e4tte sie weder erhalten noch mit\nNahrung versorgen k\u00f6nnen, und so w\u00e4ren sie dazu gezwungen worden, in\nder Stadt selbst oder der Umgegend zu pl\u00fcndern, um sich durchzubringen,\nwas fr\u00fcher oder sp\u00e4ter das reinste Chaos herbeigef\u00fchrt h\u00e4tte. Die\nmeisten starben im August und September, in welchen beiden Monaten\ndie Sterberegister fast 50000 Opfer verzeichneten. Genau waren diese\nRegister freilich nicht, soviel ich glaube, und es konnte auch nicht\nwohl anders sein bei der allgemeinen Verwirrung. Die Leichenkarren\narbeiteten doch nur bei Nacht, und in einigen Kirchspielen wurden die\nToten \u00fcberhaupt nicht eingetragen, da K\u00fcster und Schreiber wochenlang\nfehlten.\nWenn ich sage, da\u00df die Kirchspielbeamten in ihren Angaben nicht\nzuverl\u00e4ssig waren, so mu\u00df man anderseits ber\u00fccksichtigen, da\u00df das\nauch in einer solchen Zeit kaum m\u00f6glich gewesen w\u00e4re. Viele von ihnen\nerkrankten selbst und starben vielleicht zur gleichen Stunde, als sie\nihre Listen fertig hatten. In Stepney allein wurden w\u00e4hrend des Jahres\n116 K\u00fcster, Totengr\u00e4ber, Leichenwagenkutscher und Tr\u00e4ger von der Seuche\nhinweggerafft.\nDie Arbeit, die sie auszuf\u00fchren hatten, erlaubte ihnen auch wirklich\nnicht, genaue Listen von den Toten aufzunehmen, die in der Nacht alle\ndurcheinander in die Gruben hineingeworfen wurden, denen niemand ohne\ndie \u00e4u\u00dferste Gefahr nahe kommen konnte. In Aldgate, Cripplegate,\nWhitechapel und Stepney gaben die w\u00f6chentlichen Listen 5, 6, 7 und\n800 Tote an, w\u00e4hrend nach meiner \u00dcberzeugung und der meiner Mitb\u00fcrger\nmanchmal an 2000 in der Woche in diesen Kirchspielen starben. Von\neinem, der es wissen mochte und mich unter der Hand Einsicht in seine\nAufzeichnungen nehmen lie\u00df, erfuhr ich, da\u00df er die Anzahl, der in einem\nJahre an der Seuche Verstorbenen, auf 100000 berechnete, w\u00e4hrend die\noffiziellen Totenregister sie nur mit 68590 angaben.\nUnd nach dem, was ich mit eigenen Augen sah und von anderen h\u00f6rte,\ndie auch Augenzeugen waren, glaube ich auch, da\u00df 100000 nicht zu hoch\ngegriffen war, au\u00dfer denen, die auf den Landstra\u00dfen, auf freiem Feld\noder in verborgenen Schlupfwinkeln zugrunde gingen. Es war allgemein\nbekannt, da\u00df eine Menge armer verseuchter Gesch\u00f6pfe, die schon halb\nbl\u00f6dsinnig durch ihr Elend geworden waren, aufs freie Feld oder in die\nW\u00e4lder wanderte, um hinter einem Busch oder einer Hecke das Ende zu\nerwarten.\nDie Bewohner der anliegenden D\u00f6rfer brachten ihnen aus Mitleid\nNahrung, die sie in einiger Entfernung hinstellten, damit jene sie\nholen konnten, wenn sie dazu noch imstande waren, was oft genug\nnicht der Fall war. Kamen sie dann das n\u00e4chste Mal, so fanden sie\nden armen Teufel tot und die Nahrung unber\u00fchrt. Ich wei\u00df von vielen,\ndie auf diese Weise zugrunde gingen, und k\u00f6nnte die Stellen so genau\nbezeichnen, da\u00df ich mich anheischig machen wollte, ihre Gebeine dort\nauszugraben. Die Bauern gruben n\u00e4mlich etwas entfernt davon ein Loch\nund zogen mittels langer Stangen, an denen ein Hacken befestigt war,\ndie Leichen hinein, worauf sie von weit her, so gut es gehen wollte,\nErde darauf warfen. Dabei beobachteten sie genau, woher der Wind kam,\num nicht durch den Geruch angesteckt zu werden. Viele, viele Leute\nverlie\u00dfen so die Welt, ohne da\u00df es jemals bekannt wurde.\nIch wei\u00df das haupts\u00e4chlich vom H\u00f6rensagen, denn ich selbst kam selten\nsoweit hinaus, au\u00dfer nach Bethnalgreen und Hackney. Geschah es aber\neinmal, so sah ich immer aus der Entfernung eine Menge dieser armen\nLeute. N\u00e4heres konnte ich freilich nicht \u00fcber sie in Erfahrung bringen,\ndenn ob in der Stadt oder drau\u00dfen wich man stets jedem aus, den man\nherankommen sah.\nUnd da ich gerade vom Ausgehen spreche, mu\u00df ich doch erw\u00e4hnen, was\nf\u00fcr ein gottverlassener Ort die Stadt in jener Zeit war. Die Stra\u00dfe,\nin der ich wohnte, ist eine der breitesten in den Vorst\u00e4dten, aber\ndie ganze Seite, wo die Fleischer wohnten, besonders au\u00dferhalb der\nSchlagb\u00e4ume, glich eher einer gr\u00fcnen Wiese als einer gepflasterten\nStra\u00dfe. Es ist richtig, da\u00df sie am \u00e4u\u00dfersten Ende, gegen Whitechapel\nzu, nicht gepflastert war, aber auch auf dem gepflasterten Teile wuchs\ndas Gras ganz dicht. Das darf nicht weiter wundernehmen, wenn man h\u00f6rt,\nda\u00df auch in den gro\u00dfen Stra\u00dfen in der inneren Stadt, wie der Leadenhall\nund Bishopsgate-Stra\u00dfe, in Cornhill und sogar vor der B\u00f6rse gro\u00dfe\nGrasflecken waren. Kein Wagen, keine Kutsche war von morgens bis abends\nauf den Stra\u00dfen zu sehen, h\u00f6chstens einige Bauernkarren, die Bohnen,\nErbsen, Heu und Stroh auf den Markt brachten. Aber auch diese waren\nsehr sp\u00e4rlich. Droschken wurden nur gebraucht, um Kranke ins Pesthaus\nzu schaffen oder von \u00c4rzten bei ihren Krankenbesuchen. Denn diese\nDroschken waren unheimliche Dinger, und die Leute hatten wenig Lust,\nsie zu benutzen, weil man nie wu\u00dfte, wer zuvor damit bef\u00f6rdert worden\nwar. Wie gesagt: man brachte damit die Kranken ins Pesthaus und andere\nKrankenh\u00e4user, und manchmal kam\u2019s vor, da\u00df sie w\u00e4hrend der Fahrt darin\nstarben.\nSolange die Seuche am \u00e4rgsten w\u00fctete, lie\u00dfen sich nur sehr wenige \u00c4rzte\nzu Krankenbesuchen bereitfinden. Die ber\u00fchmtesten waren tot, wie auch\nviele von den Wund\u00e4rzten, denn durch einen ganzen Monat starben t\u00e4glich\n15--1700 -- Tag aus Tag ein.\nZu dieser Zeit war die Arbeit, die Leichen auf Karren wegzuschaffen, so\nwiderw\u00e4rtig und gef\u00e4hrlich geworden, da\u00df Klagen ergingen, die Tr\u00e4ger\ng\u00e4ben sich keine M\u00fche mehr, sie aus den H\u00e4usern zu bringen, die ganz\nausgestorben waren, sondern lie\u00dfen die Leichen darin liegen, da\u00df die\nNachbarn es vor Gestank nicht mehr aushalten konnten und angesteckt\nwurden. Diese Pflichtvergessenheit nahm so zu, da\u00df die Kirchenvorsteher\nund Polizisten beauftragt wurden, der Sache nachzugehen. Selbst\ndie Friedensrichter mu\u00dften sich dazu herbeilassen, den Leuten Mut\nzuzusprechen, denn zahllose Tr\u00e4ger starben an der Ansteckung durch die\nLeichen, und w\u00e4re nicht die Anzahl jener, die Arbeit und Brot um jeden\nPreis suchten, so gro\u00df gewesen, w\u00fcrde man kaum noch jemand zu solcher\nArbeit gefunden haben, und die Leichen w\u00e4ren \u00fcberall halb verfault\nherumgelegen.\nMan kann den Beh\u00f6rden nicht genug Dank wissen, f\u00fcr die Art und\nWeise, wie sie sich des Beerdigungswesens annahmen. Sobald einer der\nLeichentr\u00e4ger der Seuche erlegen war, f\u00fcllten sie seinen Platz sogleich\nmit einem anderen aus, was, wie gesagt, bei der Masse der Arbeitslosen\nnicht allzu schwer war, so da\u00df man alles in allem niemals sagen konnte,\ndie Lebenden w\u00e4ren nicht imstande gewesen, ihre Toten zu begraben.\nJe weiter die Seuche fortschritt, desto mehr nahm auch die Verwirrung\nder Bev\u00f6lkerung zu. Was die einen in ihrem Fieberwahn, andere in der\nQual der Krankheit alles taten, ist nicht zu sagen. Einige trieben\nsich schreiend und weinend mit gerungenen H\u00e4nden in den Stra\u00dfen umher,\nandere betend mit zum Himmel erhobenen H\u00e4nden, um Gottes Barmherzigkeit\nanzuflehen. Ich glaube, da\u00df man sich noch des ber\u00fcchtigten Salomon\nEagle erinnert, der, zwar nur im Kopfe angesteckt, manchmal v\u00f6llig\nnackt, eine Pfanne mit gl\u00fchenden Kohlen auf dem Kopfe, durch die\nStra\u00dfen rannte und der Stadt das Gericht des Herrn verk\u00fcndete.\nIch will ja nicht entscheiden, ob dieser Geistliche wirklich verr\u00fcckt\nwar oder nicht, und alles nur aus Mitleid mit den armen Leuten tat, die\njeden Abend durch Whitechapel zogen und mit aufgehobenen H\u00e4nden immer\nwieder flehten: \u00bbVerschone uns, lieber Gott, verschone dein Volk, das\ndu durch dein heiliges Blut erl\u00f6st hat.\u00ab Ich kann nicht gut \u00fcber all\ndiese Dinge sprechen, weil ich sie nur aus meinem Fenster sah, denn ich\n\u00f6ffnete selten die L\u00e4den, solange die Pest am \u00e4rgsten w\u00fctete, und viele\nglaubten, da\u00df kein einziger \u00fcbrigbleiben w\u00fcrde. Ich selbst glaubte das\nauch und hielt mich \u00fcber zwei Wochen im Hause. Aber dann konnte ich\nnicht mehr. \u00dcbrigens gab es immer Leute, die trotz aller Gefahr den\nGottesdienst nicht vers\u00e4umten, sogar in der \u00e4rgsten Zeit. Freilich\nhatten manche Pfarrer ihre Kirchen geschlossen und waren geflohen\nwie die anderen Leute auch, aber doch nicht alle. Einige \u00fcbten ihr\nAmt aus und hielten Gebetsversammlungen ab mit kurzen Predigten oder\nErmahnungen zur Bu\u00dfe und Besserung, solange man sie nur h\u00f6ren wollte.\nDie Dissenters machten es gerade so, auch in den Kirchen, deren Pfarrer\ntot oder gefl\u00fcchtet waren, und es war auch wirklich keine Zeit f\u00fcr\nReligionsstreitigkeiten.\nDie Gnade Gottes hatte mich bisher noch immer verschont, und ich f\u00fchlte\nmich v\u00f6llig wohl, nur machte mich der lange Aufenthalt zu Hause in der\ngeschlossenen Luft allm\u00e4hlich ungeduldig. Endlich hielt ich\u2019s nicht\nmehr aus und machte mich auf, einen Brief an meinen Bruder auf die\nPost zu tragen. Auf der Stra\u00dfe war kaum ein Laut zu h\u00f6ren. Als ich\nzur Post kam, sah ich einen Mann in einem Winkel des Hofes stehen und\nzu einem Fenster hinauf mit einem zweiten sprechen. Ein dritter stand\nan der offenen T\u00fcr des Amtsraumes. In der Mitte des Hofes lag ein\nkleiner Geldbeutel aus Leder, der Geld zu enthalten schien und an dem\nzwei Schl\u00fcssel hingen. Aber keiner wollte ihn anr\u00fchren. Ich fragte,\nwie lange er schon dort gelegen habe, und der Mann sagte mir aus dem\nFenster, vielleicht eine Stunde, aber sie h\u00e4tten sich nicht drum\ngek\u00fcmmert, weil sie dachten, die Person, die ihn verloren habe, w\u00fcrde\nwieder zur\u00fcckkommen. Ich war gerade beim Weggehen, als der Mann an der\nT\u00fcr meinte, er w\u00fcrde den Beutel doch aufheben, aber nur, um ihn dem\nrechtm\u00e4\u00dfigen Besitzer wieder zur\u00fcckzugeben, falls er kommen sollte. Er\nholte also einen Eimer voll Wasser und stellte ihn neben den Beutel,\ndann warf er einen Haufen Schie\u00dfpulver auf den Beutel und streute es in\neiner Linie noch etwa zwei Ellen weit, holte darauf eine rotgl\u00fchende\nFeuerzange, die er offenbar schon vorbereitet hatte, und setzte das\nPulver am \u00e4u\u00dfersten Ende in Brand, um den Beutel und die Luft zu\nreinigen. Aber auch damit war er noch nicht zufrieden, sondern nahm den\nBeutel mit der Feuerzange auf, bis sie sich durch das Leder gefressen\nhatte, sch\u00fcttelte das Geld ins Wasser aus und trug es erst dann mit dem\nEimer hinein. Es waren, soweit ich mich erinnere, 13 Schillinge und\neinige Kupferpfennige und Heller.\nUngef\u00e4hr um dieselbe Zeit machte ich einen Spaziergang \u00fcber die Felder\ngegen Bow, denn ich war sehr neugierig zu erfahren, wie die Sachen auf\ndem Flusse und bei den Schiffen standen, und dachte, es w\u00e4re eigentlich\ndas beste Mittel, sich vor der Seuche in Sicherheit zu bringen, sich\nauf einem Schiffe einzuquartieren. Unter solchen Gedanken war ich vom\nWege etwas abgekommen und fand mich pl\u00f6tzlich an den Landungstreppen\nbei Blackwell. Hier traf ich einen armen Teufel, der ganz allein auf\nder Flu\u00dfmauer auf und ab ging. Ich lie\u00df mich mit ihm in ein Gespr\u00e4ch\nein und erfuhr, da\u00df seine Familie nicht weit entfernt lebte. Eins von\nseinen Kindern war bereits an der Pest gestorben, die Frau und eins der\nbeiden anderen Kinder war krank, und er erhielt sie als Bootsf\u00fchrer,\nindem er jeden Abend, was er verdient hatte, auf einen Stein in der\nN\u00e4he der Wohnung niederlegte. Das Boot diente ihm nicht nur als\nMittel, den Lebensunterhalt f\u00fcr sich und die Seinen zu gewinnen,\nsondern zugleich als Schlafst\u00e4tte w\u00e4hrend der Nacht.\nIch fragte ihn dann weiter, wie er denn in der jetzigen Zeit zu Gelde\nk\u00e4me, da doch niemand ein Boot brauche. \u00bbDoch Herr,\u00ab antwortete er,\n\u00bbich kann mich schon n\u00fctzlich machen. Seht Ihr dort, unterhalb der\nStadt, die f\u00fcnf Schiffe vor Anker liegen und dort oben weitere acht\noder zehn? Sie alle haben Familien an Bord, von den Reedern und\nBesitzern, die sich dort aus Angst vor der Ansteckung hingefl\u00fcchtet\nhaben. Ich besorge f\u00fcr sie, was sie brauchen, ihre Briefe, und was\nsonst n\u00f6tig ist, damit sie nicht an Land kommen m\u00fcssen. Nachts mache\nich mein Boot dann an einem von ihren Schiffsbooten fest und \u00fcbernachte\ndarin, und Gott sei Dank, bin ich bis jetzt verschont geblieben.\u00ab\n\u00bbJa, l\u00e4\u00dft man Euch denn an Bord,\u00ab fragte ich, \u00bbwenn Ihr aus diesem so\nschrecklich verseuchten Orte kommt?\u00ab\n\u00bbAn Bord komme ich auch nur selten,\u00ab sagte er, \u00bbsondern lasse, was\nich gebracht habe, in ihrem Beiboot oder sie ziehen es auch hinauf.\n\u00dcbrigens w\u00e4re ich auch dann wohl keine Gefahr f\u00fcr sie, denn ich gehe\nniemals in ein Haus, nicht einmal mein eigenes, noch komme ich jemand\nin die N\u00e4he, au\u00dfer um Lebensmittel einzukaufen.\u00ab\n\u00bbUm so schlimmer,\u00ab warf ich ein, \u00bbdenn Ihr m\u00fc\u00dft doch die Lebensmittel\nvon irgend jemand haben, und da dieser ganze Stadtteil aufs \u00e4rgste\nverseucht ist, ist es schon gef\u00e4hrlich, nur mit jemand zu sprechen, und\nauch dieses Dorf ist viel zu nah an London, um sicher zu sein.\u00ab\n\u00bbWohl wahr,\u00ab meinte er, \u00bbaber Ihr versteht mich nicht recht. Hier\nkaufe ich nichts ein, sondern ich rudere nach Greenwich hinauf, um\nfrisches Fleisch zu kaufen, und manchmal auch bis nach Woolwich hinab.\nDann gehe ich in einzelne Bauernh\u00f6fe auf der Kentischen Seite, wo ich\nbekannt bin, und kaufe Gefl\u00fcgel, Eier und Butter und bringe sie zu den\nSchiffen, welche mir gerade den Auftrag geben. Hierher komme ich nur\nselten, um von meinem Weib zu h\u00f6ren, wie es allen geht, und ihnen das\nWenige zu bringen, das ich in der vorigen Nacht verdient habe.\u00ab\n\u00bbArmer Kerl,\u00ab sagte ich, \u00bbund wieviel habt Ihr diesmal bekommen?\u00ab\n\u00bbVier Schillinge, was heutzutage f\u00fcr einen armen Teufel schon etwas\nhei\u00dfen will. Und au\u00dferdem haben sie mir noch einen Sack Brot, einen\ngesalzenen Fisch und etwas Fleisch mitgegeben, das kommt auch noch\ndazu.\u00ab\nW\u00e4hrend wir noch weiter uns unterhielten, \u00f6ffnete sich die T\u00fcre seiner\nH\u00fctte, die Frau kam heraus und rief: \u00bbRobert, Robert!\u00ab Er bat sie,\neinen Augenblick zu warten, lief die Treppe hinunter und kam wieder mit\neinem Sack, der die Lebensmittel enthielt. Dann ging er zu dem gro\u00dfen\nStein, den er mir gezeigt hatte, leerte den Sack aus und zog sich\nwieder zur\u00fcck. Als darauf die Frau hinging, einen kleinen Buben an der\nHand, um alles zu holen, erkl\u00e4rte er ihr, von wem jedes einzelne St\u00fcck\nherstamme, rief den Schutz des Himmels auf sie herab und ging dann weg.\nIch fragte ihn dann, wie es k\u00e4me, da\u00df die Leute auf den Schiffen sich\nnicht mit gen\u00fcgenden Vorr\u00e4ten alles N\u00f6tigen versehen h\u00e4tten? Er sagte,\neinige h\u00e4tten das schon getan, andere aber h\u00e4tten sich erst sp\u00e4ter\nan Bord gefl\u00fcchtet, als es schon zu gef\u00e4hrlich war, in den L\u00e4den\nherumzukaufen. Er selbst bediene zwei Schiffe, auf denen sie fast\nnichts hatten als Schiffszwieback und schlechtes Bier, alles sonst\nm\u00fcsse er besorgen. Ich fragte ihn darauf, ob es noch mehr Schiffe g\u00e4be,\ndie sich so abgeschlossen hielten? \u00bbGewi\u00df,\u00ab sagte er, \u00bbden ganzen Weg\nvon einem Punkt gegen\u00fcber Greenwich bis Limehouse und Redriff ist\nder ganze Flu\u00df voll, wo immer es Raum genug f\u00fcr zwei Schiffe gibt,\nnebeneinander zu liegen. Manche haben mehrere Familien an Bord.\u00ab\nDarauf wollte ich noch wissen, ob niemals die Seuche hingekommen w\u00e4re?\nEr meinte, er h\u00e4tte nichts davon geh\u00f6rt, au\u00dfer auf zwei oder drei\nSchiffen, die aus Nachl\u00e4ssigkeit die Seeleute an Land h\u00e4tten gehen\nlassen.\nAls er sagte, er w\u00fcrde wieder nach Greenwich fahren, sobald die Flut\neinsetze, fragte ich ihn, ob er mich nicht mitnehmen und wieder\nzur\u00fcckbringen wolle, denn ich hatte gro\u00dfe Lust zu sehen, wie die vielen\nSchiffe auf dem Wasser lagen. Er sagte, wenn ich ihm als Christ und\nehrlicher Mann mein Wort geben wolle, da\u00df ich nicht angesteckt sei, so\nw\u00fcrde er mich fahren. Ich versicherte ihm, da\u00df ich durch die Gnade\nGottes bisher verschont geblieben war, da\u00df ich in Whitechapel wohnte\nund nur durch das Bed\u00fcrfnis nach frischer Luft herausgetrieben worden\nw\u00e4re, und da\u00df niemand in meinem Hause auch nur die leiseste Spur einer\nAnsteckung gezeigt habe.\n\u00bbNun,\u00ab sagte er, \u00bbda Ihr Mitleid mit mir und meinen armen Leuten\ngezeigt habt, k\u00f6nnt Ihr nicht so unbarmherzig sein, in mein Boot zu\nsteigen, wenn Ihr nicht gesund w\u00e4rt. Denn das w\u00fcrde f\u00fcr mich und meine\nFamilie den Untergang bedeuten.\u00ab Seine Angst r\u00fchrte mich so sehr, da\u00df\nich ihm sagte, ich wolle lieber meine Neugierde unterdr\u00fccken, als ihn\nin Unruhe versetzen, obwohl ich so gesund w\u00e4re wie nur irgendeiner\nauf der Welt. Aber davon wollte er nichts wissen und redete mir\njetzt selbst zu, mit ihm zu kommen. So stieg ich denn, als die Flut\neinsetzte, ins Boot, und er fuhr mich nach Greenwich hin\u00fcber. W\u00e4hrend\ner seine Besorgungen machte, ging ich auf die Spitze des H\u00fcgels, an\nden sich die Stadt anlehnt, um einen Blick \u00fcber den Flu\u00df zu haben. Es\nwar auch wirklich ein erstaunlicher Anblick: die vielen Schiffe, die\nje zwei und zwei manchmal, wo es die Breite des Flusses erlaubte, zwei\noder drei Reihen bildeten, und das nicht nur bis weit in die Stadt,\nsondern flu\u00dfabw\u00e4rts bis zum Knie von Long-Reach, also soweit man sehen\nkonnte.\nDie Anzahl der Schiffe war nicht zu erraten, aber es m\u00f6gen wohl an 300\ngewesen sein, und ich mu\u00dfte diesem Auskunftsmittel meinen Beifall\nspenden, durch das mehr als 10000 Menschen sich hier vor der Ansteckung\ngesch\u00fctzt hatten und in v\u00f6lliger Sicherheit lebten.\nSp\u00e4ter erfuhr ich, da\u00df die Schiffe, als die Seuche noch heftiger wurde,\nihren Platz ver\u00e4nderten. Einige stachen sogar in See und suchten die\nH\u00e4fen an der Nordk\u00fcste auf, wo sie eben am besten unterkommen konnten.\nAber ganz sicher war man freilich auch an Bord der Schiffe nicht, eine\nganze Anzahl Leute starb und wurde in den Flu\u00df geworfen, manche in\nS\u00e4rgen, andere ohne solche, die noch lange die Flut auf der Oberfl\u00e4che\ndes Wassers hin und wider trieb.\nIch bin jedoch \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df es sich in solchen F\u00e4llen stets um Leute\nhandelte, die sich zu sp\u00e4t auf die Schiffe zur\u00fcckzogen und schon\nangesteckt waren, wenn sie selbst auch nichts davon merkten, so da\u00df man\nin Wahrheit sagen kann: die Seuche kam nicht auf die Schiffe, sondern\ndie Menschen brachten sie erst hin. Das waren auch immer jene Schiffe,\nauf denen man nicht f\u00fcr Vorr\u00e4te hatte sorgen k\u00f6nnen, und um solche an\nLand schicken mu\u00dfte, wodurch die Ansteckung unversehens hingelangte.\nEbenso wie die wohlhabenderen Leute auf die Schiffe flohen, hatten\ndie Armen ihre Treckschuten, Schmacken, Leichter und Fischerboote,\nund viele, besonders die Bootf\u00fchrer, lebten vollst\u00e4ndig auf ihren\nFahrzeugen. Die letzteren gewannen allerdings nicht viel dabei, denn\nbeim Einkaufen von Lebensmitteln wurden sie angesteckt und starben\nin Haufen, oft mutterseelenallein in ihren Booten, wo man sie erst\nauffand, als sie sich schon in einem unbeschreiblichen Zustand der\nAufl\u00f6sung befanden.\nDie Lage der Seeleute in diesem Stadtteil war wirklich h\u00f6chst\nbejammernswert und verdiente das gr\u00f6\u00dfte Mitleid, aber zum Ungl\u00fcck war\ndas eine Zeit, in der jeder zuerst an seine eigene Sicherheit dachte\nund sich mit dem Elend des N\u00e4chsten nicht abgeben konnte. Alle hatten\nden Tod vor ihrer T\u00fcre oder schon im Hause und wu\u00dften weder, wohin zu\nfliehen, noch was sonst sie tun sollten. Dadurch wurde alles Mitleid\nerstickt und die Selbsterhaltung zum obersten Gesetz. Kinder verlie\u00dfen\nihre Eltern, Eltern ihre Kinder, wenn das auch vielleicht nicht so\nh\u00e4ufig vorkam. Schreckliche Geschichten waren in Umlauf von M\u00fcttern,\ndie in ihrem Wahnsinn ihre eigenen Kinder umgebracht hatten. Die eine\nereignete sich nicht weit von meiner Wohnung; das arme, von Sinnen\ngekommene, Gesch\u00f6pf lebte nicht einmal mehr so lange, um zum Bewu\u00dftsein\nihrer Untat zu kommen, geschweige denn, daf\u00fcr bestraft zu werden.\nWundern darf man sich dar\u00fcber nicht, denn die ununterbrochene\nTodesgefahr zerst\u00f6rte alles Mitgef\u00fchl und alle Sorge f\u00fcr andere. Ich\nrede nat\u00fcrlich nur im allgemeinen, denn es gab auch Beispiele einer\nunausl\u00f6schlichen Liebe, von Mitleid und Pflichtgef\u00fchl, von denen ich\neinige durch H\u00f6rensagen erfuhr. F\u00fcr die Wahrheit in allen Einzelheiten\nkann ich freilich nicht einstehen.\nEhe ich n\u00e4her darauf eingehe, m\u00f6chte ich noch bemerken, da\u00df das\n\u00e4rgste Schicksal von allen Menschen in dieser Ungl\u00fcckszeit die\nschwangeren Frauen traf. Kam ihre Stunde und stellten sich die Wehen\nein, so blieben sie ohne jede Hilfe. Weder Hebammen noch mitleidige\nNachbarinnen kamen zu ihnen. Die meisten Hebammen waren schon\ngestorben, besonders jene, die unter den Armen ihren Beruf aus\u00fcbten;\ndie besseren waren geflohen, so da\u00df es den armen Frauen, die nicht\neinen unerh\u00f6rten Preis zahlen konnten, so gut wie unm\u00f6glich war, eine\nzu bekommen. Die man haben konnte, waren meistens ungeschickte und\nunwissende Weiber, und die Folge war, da\u00df eine unglaubliche Anzahl von\nSchwangeren in das haarstr\u00e4ubendste Elend gerieten. Viele wurden bei\nder Entbindung durch die Dummheit jener sogenannten Hebammen zugrunde\ngerichtet, und zahllose Neugeborne, ich m\u00f6chte sagen, ermordet, wobei\nsie sich darauf hinausredeten, sie h\u00e4tten auf Kosten des Kindes die\nMutter retten wollen. Oft genug starben Mutter und Kind, besonders,\nwenn die Mutter schon verseucht war, und nun niemand sich in ihre\nN\u00e4he wagte. Viele starben w\u00e4hrend der Geburt, in anderen F\u00e4llen lebte\ndas Kind, hing aber noch durch die Nabelschnur mit der toten Mutter\nzusammen. Man konnte wirklich damals von ihnen sagen: Wehe in diesen\nTagen den schwangeren M\u00fcttern und jenen, die ihre Kinder s\u00e4ugen.\nDas Elend der stillenden M\u00fctter war fast ebensogro\u00df. Viele Kinder\ngingen zugrunde, weil ihnen die Amme fehlte. Man fand Kinderleichen bei\nder toten Mutter, die an nichts als Nahrungsmangel gestorben waren.\nAndere wurden durch die Ammen angesteckt, ja selbst durch die eigene\nMutter, die ohne es zu wissen, ihnen das Gift mit der Milch einfl\u00f6\u00dfte.\nSollte jemals wieder solch eine Seuche auftreten, so meine ich, da\u00df\nalle schwangeren oder stillenden Frauen die Stadt verlassen sollten,\ndenn ihr Elend ging wahrhaftig \u00fcber alles menschliche Ma\u00df hinaus.\nIch k\u00f6nnte manche Schauergeschichte erz\u00e4hlen von noch lebenden Kindern,\ndie an der Brust ihrer bereits erkalteten Amme oder Mutter saugten. In\nmeinem Kirchspiel geschah es, da\u00df eine Mutter, deren Kind nicht ganz\nwohl war, zum Apotheker schickte, er m\u00f6chte sich\u2019s ansehen. Als er kam,\nstillte sie gerade und schien v\u00f6llig gesund zu sein, aber wie er sich\nn\u00e4herte, sah er die Merkmale der Seuche auf derselben Brust, die dem\nKinde Nahrung bot. Er wollte die arme Frau nicht zu sehr erschrecken\nund bat sie, ihm das Kind zu geben. Als er\u2019s nun in die Wiege legte und\ndabei sein Kleidchen \u00f6ffnete, gewahrte er die gleichen Merkmale auch\nauf seinem K\u00f6rper. Beide starben, noch ehe er nach Hause gekommen war,\num ein Gegenmittel zu senden. Ein anderes Mal wurde ein Kind zu seinen\nEltern wieder nach Hause gebracht, da die Amme an der Pest gestorben\nwar. Trotzdem lie\u00df es sich die z\u00e4rtliche Mutter nicht nehmen, den\nS\u00e4ugling an die eigene Brust zu legen. Dadurch wurde sie angesteckt\nund starb, das tote Kind in ihren Armen.\nVon einem Handelsmann in Ost-Smithfield h\u00f6rte ich, dessen Frau zum\nerstenmal geb\u00e4ren sollte und in die Wehen kam, w\u00e4hrend sie schon\nangesteckt war. Er konnte ihr weder eine Hebamme noch eine Pflegerin\nverschaffen. Die zwei Dienerinnen waren gefl\u00fcchtet, und er rannte\nwie ein Verr\u00fcckter von Haus zu Haus, fand aber keine Hilfe. Endlich\nversprach ihm ein W\u00e4chter, der vor einem verseuchten und abgesperrten\nHause seinen Posten hatte, ihm bis zum Morgen eine Pflegerin zu\nschicken. Der arme Teufel ging verzweifelt heim, leistete seiner Frau\nBeistand, so gut es gehen wollte, und brachte ein totes Kind zur Welt.\nAuch die Frau starb eine Stunde sp\u00e4ter, und er hielt die Leiche noch\nin seinen Armen, als der W\u00e4chter mit der Pflegerin erschien. Er hatte\ndas Haus offen gefunden, war die Treppe heraufgekommen und fand nun den\nMann, wie er sein totes Weib umschlungen hielt, und so sehr dr\u00fcckte ihn\nder Kummer nieder, da\u00df er einige Stunden sp\u00e4ter seinen Geist aufgab,\nohne irgend ein Zeichen der Ansteckung zu zeigen. So war er wirklich an\ngebrochenem Herzen gestorben.\nVon andern habe ich geh\u00f6rt, die der Kummer \u00fcber den Tod ihrer\nAngeh\u00f6rigen bl\u00f6dsinnig machte. Einer insbesondere wurde von seinem\nTr\u00fcbsinn so v\u00f6llig \u00fcberw\u00e4ltigt, da\u00df nach und nach sein Kopf f\u00f6rmlich\nzwischen die Schultern hineinsank. Er verlor allm\u00e4hlich Stimme und\nEmpfindung, das Gesicht lehnte sich gegen das Schl\u00fcsselbein und konnte\nnur mit Gewalt aufgerichtet werden. Der arme Teufel kam nie mehr wieder\nzu sich, sondern blieb fast ein Jahr in diesem Zustande, ehe er starb.\nNiemals schlug er die Augen auf oder richtete seinen Blick auf einen\nder ihn umgebenden Gegenst\u00e4nde. --\nIch spreche jetzt von der Zeit, als die Pest im \u00f6stlichsten Teile der\nStadt w\u00fctete. Die Leute dort hatten gehofft, da\u00df sie verschont bleiben\nw\u00fcrden, und waren nun entsetzt, als die Seuche wie ein geharnischter\nMann auf sie eindrang. Dabei fallen mir wieder die drei Gesellen\nvon Wapping ein, der B\u00e4cker, Zimmermann und Segelmacher, von denen\nich schon erz\u00e4hlt habe. Als sie sahen, da\u00df sie nirgends mehr Arbeit\nbekommen k\u00f6nnten, entschlossen sie sich, sich vor der Seuche davon\nzu machen, und da sie haush\u00e4lterisch angelegt waren, wollten sie\nversuchen, solange als m\u00f6glich von ihren Ersparnissen zu leben und\ndann zusehen, wie sie weiterk\u00e4men. Aber zuerst wurde noch viel hin und\nher geredet wegen der Ausr\u00fcstung und der Stra\u00dfe, die sie einschlagen\nwollten. Besonders waren sie wegen eines Unterkommens zur Nachtzeit\nbesorgt, aber dabei hatte der B\u00e4cker, der, wie man sich erinnern wird,\nfr\u00fcher Soldat gewesen war, einen guten Einfall, indem er vorschlug,\nder Segelmacher solle ihnen ein kleines Zelt verfertigen. Der einzige\nEinwand, der dagegen gemacht wurde, war der, da\u00df es zu schwer zum\nTragen w\u00e4re, da sie ja schon alles m\u00f6gliche mitzuschleppen hatten\nund das Wetter recht hei\u00df war, denn es war um Mitte Juli. Aber auch\nin dieser Sache kam ihnen das Gl\u00fcck zu Hilfe. Der Meister, bei dem\nder Segelmacher gearbeitet hatte, besa\u00df ein kleines elendes Pferd,\nund da er den drei ehrlichen Gesellen wohl wollte, \u00fcberlie\u00df er es\nihnen, zusammen mit einem alten Topbesansegel, das zwar nicht mehr\nviel wert, aber zu einem Zelt noch recht gut zu gebrauchen war. Nach\nden Anweisungen des gewesenen Soldaten war es bald fertig, und so\nkonnte also die Reise angetreten werden. Ihre Ausr\u00fcstung bestand aus\ndem Zelt, dem Pferde, einer Flinte, da der B\u00e4cker sich seines fr\u00fcheren\nStandes erinnerte und nicht ohne Waffe ausziehen wollte, einem kleinen\nSack mit Werkzeugen f\u00fcr den Zimmermann und ein wenig Geld, das in eine\ngemeinsame Kasse zusammengelegt wurde.\nDa der Wind bei ihrem Ausmarsch aus Nordwesten blies, so entschlossen\nsie sich, in dieser Himmelsrichtung vorzugehen. Dabei gab\u2019s gleich\ndie erste Schwierigkeit, weil sie stark verseuchte Stadtteile h\u00e4tten\nber\u00fchren m\u00fcssen. Sie machten daher einen weiten Umweg und erreichten\ndie Landstra\u00dfe gerade bei Bow. Die Wache auf der Bowbr\u00fccke h\u00e4tte sie\nnicht durchgelassen, so waren sie gezwungen, einen schmalen Nebenweg\neinzuschlagen, auf dem sie bis Oldford kamen. Auf allen Stra\u00dfen standen\nKonstabler, nicht so sehr, um die Leute anzuhalten, als um daf\u00fcr zu\nsorgen, da\u00df sie sich nicht in den Orten, die sie zu bewachen hatten,\nniederlie\u00dfen. Au\u00dferdem war auf dem Lande das Ger\u00fccht verbreitet, da\u00df\ndie Bev\u00f6lkerung Londons, aus Verzweiflung \u00fcber den Mangel an Arbeit und\nan Lebensmitteln, sich bewaffnet h\u00e4tte und ausziehen wollte, um die\nOrte in der Umgegend mit Gewalt zu pl\u00fcndern.\nIn Oldford wurden die drei Wanderer nur ausgefragt, und da sie eher\nvom Lande als aus der Stadt zu kommen schienen, benahmen sich die\nLeute ganz freundlich gegen sie, ja f\u00fchrten sie sogar in ein Wirtshaus\nund setzten ihnen zu essen und zu trinken vor. Dabei hatten die Drei\nden guten Gedanken, von jetzt ab nie zu sagen, sie k\u00e4men von London,\nsondern aus Essex. Um diesen kleinen Betrug wahrscheinlicher zu machen,\nbewogen sie den Konstabler, ihnen ein Zeugnis auszustellen, da\u00df sie von\nEssex k\u00e4men und nichts mit London zu tun h\u00e4tten, was \u00fcbrigens ja auch\ndem Buchstaben nach wahr war, da Wapping nicht mehr zu London geh\u00f6rte.\nDiese Bescheinigung war ihnen von gro\u00dfem Nutzen. Mit ihrer Hilfe\nwurden sie nicht nur in Hackney durchgelassen, sondern erhielten auch\nvom dortigen Friedensrichter ohne viel Schwierigkeit ein richtiges\nGesundheitsattest. So hatten sie denn bald Hackney hinter sich und\nwanderten weiter, bis sie bei Stamfordhill auf die gro\u00dfe Heerstra\u00dfe\ngelangten.\nMittlerweile waren sie rechtschaffen m\u00fcde geworden und beschlossen,\nein wenig abseits von der Stra\u00dfe ihr Zelt aufzuschlagen. Dies taten\nsie denn auch, und zwar mit dem Eingange gegen einen Heuschober, den\nsie zuerst geh\u00f6rig durchsuchten, ob niemand dort versteckt w\u00e4re. Dort\nlegten sie sich schlafen, aber dem Zimmermann gefiel es nicht, da\u00df\nsie so gleichsam schutzlos die Nacht zubringen sollten, er nahm die\nFlinte und ging als Wache vor dem Heuschober auf und ab. Bald h\u00f6rte\ner das Ger\u00e4usch von Stimmen, die lauter und lauter wurden, bis auch\nder B\u00e4cker aus dem Zelt gekrochen kam. Die Leute gingen gerade auf\nden Heuschober zu, bis ihnen der B\u00e4cker ein martialisches \u00bbWer da?\u00ab\nzurief. Auf das hin hielten sie an und besprachen sich untereinander,\nworaus hervorging, da\u00df sie alle zusammen 13 waren, darunter auch\neinige Frauen. Au\u00dferdem erfuhren unsere Freunde auf diese Weise, da\u00df\nsie gleich ihnen auf der Flucht vor der Seuche waren und eine gro\u00dfe\nAngst verrieten, von ihnen angesteckt zu werden, was wohl bewies, da\u00df\nsie selbst gesund waren. Auf dies hin sagte der B\u00e4cker zum Zimmermann,\nman solle die Leute doch herrufen, und nach l\u00e4ngerem Hin- und Herreden\nkamen sie auch herbei und krochen in den Heustadel, der bis oben voll\nHeu war, so da\u00df sie sich\u2019s ganz bequem machen konnten. Ehe sie sich\nschlafen legten, h\u00f6rte man sie noch beten und den Schutz Gottes auf\nsich herabrufen.\nAls der Tag angebrochen war, machten sie sich n\u00e4her miteinander\nbekannt und erfuhren, da\u00df die Leute auch aus London kamen und den Plan\nhatten, \u00fcber den Flu\u00df und durch die S\u00fcmpfe in den Wald von Epping zu\nwandern, wo sie hofften, sich l\u00e4nger aufhalten zu k\u00f6nnen. Sie hatten\ngenug Vorr\u00e4te f\u00fcr 2 oder 3 Monate bei sich, und dann, meinten sie,\nw\u00fcrde bei Eintritt kalter Witterung wohl die Seuche erl\u00f6schen, wenn\nauch vielleicht nur deshalb, weil kein Lebender mehr in der Stadt\nzur\u00fcckgeblieben w\u00e4re.\nDie Absichten unserer drei Freunde waren eigentlich nach einer anderen\nRichtung gegangen, aber nun entschlossen sie sich doch, mit den anderen\ngemeinsame Sache zu machen und ihnen nach Essex zu folgen. So wurde\ndenn das Pferd mit dem Zelt beladen und dann gemeinschaftlich der\nMarsch angetreten.\nAn der F\u00e4hre \u00fcber den Flu\u00df gab es den ersten Aufenthalt, da der\nF\u00e4hrmann Angst vor ihnen hatte. Aber endlich verst\u00e4ndigten sie sich aus\nder Entfernung, und der F\u00e4hrmann willigte ein, ein Boot etwas weiter\nflu\u00dfaufw\u00e4rts zu bringen und es dort zu lassen, damit sie sich selbst\n\u00fcbersetzen k\u00f6nnten. Er zeigte ihnen, wo sie das Boot dr\u00fcben lassen\nsollten, damit er\u2019s mit seinem anderen wieder abholen k\u00f6nne, was er\n\u00fcbrigens erst nach mehr als acht Tagen getan haben soll. Der F\u00e4hrmann\nbrachte ihnen auch Lebensmittel und Getr\u00e4nk ins Boot, nachdem man ihm\ndas Geld daf\u00fcr zuvor hingelegt hatte. Zum Schlu\u00df machte es noch nicht\ngeringe Schwierigkeit, das Pferd hin\u00fcberzubringen, und da die F\u00e4hre\ndaf\u00fcr zu klein war, mu\u00dfte man es abpacken und \u00fcber den Flu\u00df schwimmen\nlassen.\nVom anderen Ufer aus marschierten sie gegen den Wald zu, aber als sie\nnach Walthamstow kamen, verwehrte ihnen die Bev\u00f6lkerung den Zutritt,\nwie es jetzt \u00fcberall geschah. Die Konstabler und W\u00e4chter hielten sich\nin einiger Entfernung und unterhandelten mit ihnen. Sie wiederholten,\nwas sie schon das vorige Mal gesagt hatten, aber hier fanden sie keinen\nGlauben, da schon 2 oder 3 Gesellschaften unter denselben Vorw\u00e4nden\nsich durch mehrere Orte durchgeschmuggelt und eine ganze Anzahl\nvon deren Bev\u00f6lkerung angesteckt hatten. Darauf war man, wenn auch\ngerechterma\u00dfen, so unbarmherzig gegen sie vorgegangen, da\u00df einige von\nihnen auf freiem Felde zugrunde gegangen waren, ob an der Pest oder aus\nMangel an Lebensmitteln, lie\u00df sich nicht sagen.\nDaher waren die Leute in Walthamstow sehr argw\u00f6hnisch geworden und\nhatten den Entschlu\u00df gefa\u00dft, niemand mehr aufzunehmen, von dessen\nGesundheitszustand sie nicht \u00fcberzeugt w\u00e4ren.\nDer Zimmermann und einer von der anderen Gesellschaft meinten, das\nalles w\u00e4re kein Grund, die offene Stra\u00dfe zu versperren und die\nLeute nicht durch die Stadt zu lassen. Sie wollten ja gar nichts\nvon ihnen als die Freiheit, durch die Stadt zu ziehen. H\u00e4tten die\nEinwohner Angst, so k\u00f6nnten sie ja in ihre H\u00e4user gehen und die T\u00fcren\nabschlie\u00dfen. Die Konstabler aber und wer sonst noch herumstand waren\njedem vern\u00fcnftigen Grunde unzug\u00e4nglich und versteiften sich auf das,\nwas sie schon gesagt hatten. So kehrten die beiden Unterh\u00e4ndler zu\nihren Kameraden zur\u00fcck, um mit ihnen zu beraten, was zu tun w\u00e4re.\nDar\u00fcber konnten sie sich nicht einig werden, bis der B\u00e4cker und fr\u00fchere\nSoldat sagte, sie sollten alles ihm \u00fcberlassen. Er wies darauf den\nZimmermann an, aus Baumzweigen etwas Flinten\u00e4hnliches zu schnitzen, und\nnachdem sie auf diese Weise 5 oder 6 Musketen verfertigt hatten, die\naus der Entfernung ganz gut f\u00fcr solche gehalten werden konnten, nahm er\nein paar Leute mit sich und schlug das Zelt mitten auf der Stra\u00dfe auf,\nder Barrikade gerade gegen\u00fcber, die von den Stadtbewohnern errichtet\nworden war. Dann stellte er vor das Zelt eine Wache mit der einzig\nwirklichen Flinte in ihrem Besitz, der mit geschultertem Gewehr auf und\nab gehen mu\u00dfte, da\u00df jeder ihn sehen konnte. Das Pferd wurde an eine\nHecke neben dem Zelt gebunden und ein Feuer auf dessen anderer Seite\nangez\u00fcndet, so da\u00df man von der Stadt aus das Feuer und den Rauch sehen\nkonnte, aber nicht, was die Leute dabei taten.\nDie St\u00e4dter beobachteten sie eine gute Weile und mu\u00dften bei all diesen\nZurichtungen glauben, da\u00df sie es mit einer ganzen gro\u00dfen Bande zu tun\nh\u00e4tten. Daher machten sie sich mehr Sorge, da\u00df sie bleiben als da\u00df sie\nweggehen w\u00fcrden. Von dem einen Pferd und der einen Muskete schlossen\nsie auf viele, und als sie noch Leute mit geschulterten Gewehren auf\ndem Felde hin- und hergehen sahen, gerieten sie in einen m\u00e4chtigen\nSchrecken, liefen zum Friedensrichter und fragten ihn, was man tun\nsolle. Was ihnen jener antwortete, wei\u00df ich nicht, aber jedenfalls\nkamen sie gegen Abend auf die Barrikade und riefen die Schildwache vor\ndem Zelt an.\nDas Ergebnis der langen Unterhandlungen war endlich, da\u00df die\nFl\u00fcchtlinge versprachen, einen Fu\u00dfweg hinten um die Stadt herum \u00fcber\ndie Felder zu nehmen, und die St\u00e4dter sich dagegen verpflichteten, sie\nmit reichlichen Lebensmitteln zu versorgen, unter der Bedingung, da\u00df\njene auch nicht einen Schritt gegen die Stadt von der Stelle aus hin\nmachten, wo die Lebensmittel niedergelegt w\u00fcrden.\nDamit war alles einverstanden, und demgem\u00e4\u00df wurden an den vereinbarten\nPlatz 20 gro\u00dfe Brotlaibe und ebensogro\u00dfe Fleischst\u00fccke gebracht, auch\neinige Gatter auf dem Nebenwege ge\u00f6ffnet, aber niemand hatte den Mut,\nden Fl\u00fcchtlingen zuzusehen, und da die Nacht schon hereingebrochen war,\nh\u00e4tte man auch nicht gewahren k\u00f6nnen, wie wenige Leute sie waren.\nSo zog der Soldat die ganze Gesellschaft aus der Schlinge, brachte aber\ndaf\u00fcr die ganze Grafschaft in Aufruhr. W\u00e4ren sie wirklich 200 oder 300\ngewesen, wie es hie\u00df, so h\u00e4tte man die Bev\u00f6lkerung gegen sie aufgeboten\nund sie ins Gef\u00e4ngnis geworfen oder auch totgeschlagen.\nDas merkten sie bald, denn zwei Tage sp\u00e4ter trafen sie auf mehrere\nHaufen Reiter und Fu\u00dfvolk, die \u00bbdrei Kompanien mit Musketen bewaffneter\nLeute\u00ab verfolgen sollten, die von London kamen und mit der Pest\nverseucht waren, und nicht nur diese verbreiteten, sondern auch\n\u00fcberall pl\u00fcnderten.\nNun erkannten sie die Folgen ihrer Handlungsweise und die Gefahr, in\nder sie sich befanden. Sie beschlossen daher, auf den Rat des fr\u00fcheren\nSoldaten, sich wieder zu trennen. Die drei wandten sich gegen Waltham,\ndie andern in zwei Teilen nach dem Walde von Epping zu.\nDie erste Nacht brachten sie alle im Walde zu, nicht weit voneinander,\nvermieden es aber, das Zelt aufzuschlagen aus Angst, da\u00df sie dadurch\nverraten werden k\u00f6nnten. Dagegen machte sich der Zimmermann mit Axt und\nBeil an die Arbeit und schlug so viele Baumzweige herab, da\u00df sie daraus\ndrei h\u00fcttenartige Unterschlupfe machen konnten, in denen sich ganz gut\n\u00fcbernachten lie\u00df. Lebensmittel hatten sie auch genug, und die Sorge\nf\u00fcr den n\u00e4chsten Tag \u00fcberlie\u00dfen sie der Vorsehung. Die Ratschl\u00e4ge des\nalten Soldaten hatten ihnen so gut gefallen, da\u00df sie ihn nun freiwillig\nzu ihrem F\u00fchrer erw\u00e4hlten. Er zeigte auch gleich, da\u00df sie damit das\nRichtige getroffen hatten. Er meinte n\u00e4mlich, da\u00df sie nun weit genug\nvon London w\u00e4ren, und da\u00df sie die gleiche Sorge tragen m\u00fc\u00dften, nicht\nangesteckt zu werden, als niemanden anzustecken. Gewaltsam wollten sie\nnicht vorgehen, und daher m\u00fc\u00dften sie sich den getroffenen Ma\u00dfregeln\nanbequemen. Damit waren sie alle einverstanden und setzten am n\u00e4chsten\nTage ihren Marsch gegen Epping zu fort. Auch der Kapit\u00e4n, wie er jetzt\ngenannt wurde, und seine beiden Gef\u00e4hrten hatten sich wieder an die\nanderen angeschlossen.\nAls sie in die N\u00e4he von Epping kamen, machten sie halt und suchten sich\neinen Platz im offenen Walde, nicht zu nah, aber auch nicht zu weit von\nder Stra\u00dfe in einem kleinen Geb\u00fcsch. Hier schlugen sie ihr Lager auf,\ndas aus drei gro\u00dfen runden H\u00fctten bestand, die der Zimmermann mit Hilfe\nder andern aus Zweigen aufbaute, die er an den Enden zusammenband.\nDie Seitenw\u00e4nde wurden mit Bl\u00e4ttern und Moos verstopft, so da\u00df sie\nvollst\u00e4ndig dicht und warm hielten. Au\u00dferdem hatten sie das kleine\nZelt, das den Frauen \u00fcberlassen wurde, und eine kleine H\u00fctte f\u00fcr das\nPferd.\nAm n\u00e4chsten Tage war zuf\u00e4llig Markttag in Epping, wohin der Kapit\u00e4n\nmit einem Begleiter sich aufmachte, um einige n\u00f6tige Lebensmittel\neinzukaufen, n\u00e4mlich Brot und etwas Fleisch. Zwei der Frauen gingen f\u00fcr\nsich, als ob sie gar nicht zu der Gesellschaft geh\u00f6rten, und kauften\nnoch mehr. Mittlerweile verfertigte der Zimmermann einen Tisch und\neinige B\u00e4nke und St\u00fchle, so gut es eben gehen wollte.\nZwei oder drei Tage lang wurde ihre Anwesenheit nicht bemerkt, dann\naber zogen die Leute haufenweise aus der Stadt, um sie anzusehen, und\ndie ganze Gegend geriet ihretwegen in Aufregung. Anfangs hatte man\nAngst, ihnen nahezukommen, und die Fl\u00fcchtlinge selbst waren froh, wenn\ndies nicht geschah, denn das Ger\u00fccht ging, da\u00df die Pest auch in Waltham\nausgebrochen sei und bereits auf Epping \u00fcbergegriffen habe. Daher\nbat sie der Kapit\u00e4n, nicht in ihre N\u00e4he zu kommen, da sie alle v\u00f6llig\ngesund w\u00e4ren und weder von ihnen angesteckt werden noch auch h\u00f6ren\nm\u00f6chten, da\u00df sie die Seuche zu ihnen gebracht h\u00e4tten.\nDarauf erschienen die Kirchspielbeamten und fragten aus der Entfernung,\nwer sie w\u00e4ren und mit welchem Recht sie sich hier aufhielten. Der\nKapit\u00e4n antwortete ganz aufrichtig, sie w\u00e4ren arme Fl\u00fcchtlinge aus\nLondon, die dem kommenden Elend sich hatten entziehen wollen, um ihr\nLeben zu retten und die weder Freunde noch Verwandte bes\u00e4\u00dfen, wohin sie\nsich h\u00e4tten fl\u00fcchten k\u00f6nnen. Zuerst w\u00e4ren sie nach Islington gezogen,\nda aber die Seuche auch dahin gekommen sei, w\u00e4ren sie weitergewandert.\nUnd weil sie voraussetzten, da\u00df die Inwohner von Epping ihnen doch\nverwehrt h\u00e4tten, in die N\u00e4he der Stadt zu kommen, h\u00e4tten sie nun ihr\nLager unter dem freien Himmel aufgeschlagen und n\u00e4hmen freiwillig all\ndie Beschwerlichkeiten eines solchen Aufenthaltes auf sich, lieber, als\nda\u00df irgend jemand ihnen vorwerfen k\u00f6nnte, er w\u00e4re durch sie zu Schaden\ngekommen.\nZuerst wollten die Leute von Epping nichts davon h\u00f6ren, da\u00df sie\ndablieben und befahlen ihnen, weiterzuwandern. Dies w\u00e4re kein Platz\nf\u00fcr sie, und wenn sie auch behaupteten, gesund zu sein, so m\u00f6chten sie\ndoch, ohne es zu wissen, schon angesteckt sein und die ganze Gegend\nanstecken, und deshalb k\u00f6nne man sie hier nicht dulden.\nDer Kapit\u00e4n verhandelte mit ihnen in aller Geduld weiter und hielt\nihnen vor, da\u00df sie alle von London, wohin sie ihre Landesprodukte\nverkauften, lebten und ihre H\u00f6fe erhielten, und da\u00df es nicht recht\nw\u00e4re, so unbarmherzig gegen Londoner zu sein, durch die sie so viel\nverdienten. Sp\u00e4ter w\u00fcrden sie sich nur mit Reue daran erinnern, wenn es\nsich herumspr\u00e4che, wie ungastlich, unfreundlich und barbarisch sie sich\ngegen Bewohner von London verhalten h\u00e4tten, die vor dem schrecklichsten\nFeinde des Menschengeschlechtes gefl\u00fcchtet w\u00e4ren. Von nun an w\u00e4re jeder\nEppinger in London verfehmt, und der P\u00f6bel w\u00fcrde ihnen Steine in den\nStra\u00dfen nachwerfen, wenn sie wieder zu Markt k\u00e4men.\nDie Eppinger erwiderten darauf, in Walthamstow w\u00e4re eine ganze Bande\nerschienen, die auch behaupteten, sie w\u00e4ren alle gesund, und h\u00e4tten\ngedroht, die Stadt zu pl\u00fcndern und mit Gewalt ihren Weg fortzusetzen.\nFast 200 w\u00e4ren sie gewesen, mit Waffen und Zelten wie eine richtige\nArmee. Durch die Drohung, sonst sich alles selbst zu nehmen, h\u00e4tten\nsie Lebensmittel von der Stadt erpre\u00dft, und die ganze Umgegend w\u00e4re\nvon ihnen verseucht worden. Wahrscheinlich geh\u00f6rten auch sie zu\ndieser Bande und verdienten, ins Gef\u00e4ngnis geworfen zu werden, bis\nsie Schadenersatz geleistet h\u00e4tten f\u00fcr alles, was sie angerichtet und\nf\u00fcr die Angst und den Schrecken, in die sie die ganze Gegend gest\u00fcrzt\nh\u00e4tten.\nSo wurde noch lange hin- und hergeredet, bis endlich der Kapit\u00e4n sagte,\nsie w\u00fcrden nichts mit Gewalt nehmen, selbst wenn die Eppinger ihre\nHerzen g\u00e4nzlich jedem Mitleid verschl\u00f6ssen, und wenn dann das Wenige,\ndas sie h\u00e4tten, verbraucht w\u00e4re, so m\u00fc\u00dften sie eben nach dem Willen\nGottes zugrunde gehen.\nSeine vern\u00fcnftige und ruhige Art zu reden hatte eine solche Wirkung\nauf die Eppinger, da\u00df sie fortgingen. Und obwohl sie wohl mit ihrem\nBleiben nicht einverstanden waren, taten sie doch auch nichts, sie zu\nvertreiben, so da\u00df die armen Teufel die n\u00e4chsten drei oder vier Tage\nRuhe hatten. Mittlerweile hatten sie sich mit einem Lebensmittelladen\nam Rande der Stadt in Verbindung gesetzt, der ihnen die n\u00f6tigsten\nBed\u00fcrfnisse in der \u00fcblichen Weise lieferte, indem die Lebensmittel in\neiniger Entfernung auf die Erde gelegt wurden.\nDas junge Volk kam inzwischen oft bis ganz nahe ans Lager, stand da\nherum, schaute sich alles an und unterhielt sich mit ihnen, wobei aber\nimmer noch ein Zwischenraum aufrechterhalten wurde. Da\u00df man h\u00f6rte, wie\nsie am ersten Sonntag beteten und ihre Sonntagsfeier mit Psalmensingen\nbegingen, machte einen guten Eindruck, so da\u00df allm\u00e4hlich die Stimmung\nder Leute umschlug, und man sie mit Mitleid zu betrachten begann.\nDie Folge davon war, da\u00df nach einer schweren Regennacht ein gewisser\nLandedelmann, der in der Nachbarschaft lebte, ihnen einen Karren mit\nzw\u00f6lf B\u00fcndeln Stroh schickte, um darauf zu liegen und die D\u00e4cher ihrer\nH\u00fctten damit zu decken. Der Kirchspielgeistliche sandte ihnen auch,\nohne von dem ersteren Geber zu wissen, zwei Scheffel Weizen und einen\nhalben Scheffel wei\u00dfe Erbsen.\nNachdem diese beiden so begonnen und ein Beispiel der N\u00e4chstenliebe\ngegeben hatten, schlossen sich bald andere an, und es verging kaum ein\nTag, der ihnen nicht irgendeine Gabe brachte. Einige schickten Sessel,\nTische und solche Haushaltungsgegenst\u00e4nde, die sie n\u00f6tig hatten, andere\nLeint\u00fccher und Bettdecken, die dritten Ton- und K\u00fcchengeschirr.\nDadurch ermutigt, baute ihnen der Zimmermann in wenigen Tagen einen\ngro\u00dfen Schuppen oder ein Haus mit Dachsparren, einem richtigen Dach\nund einem oberen Stockwerk, wo sie trocken hausen konnten, denn das\nWetter begann jetzt, anfangs September, allm\u00e4hlich feucht und kalt zu\nwerden. Auf der einen Seite errichtete er noch eine Erdmauer mit einem\nKamin darin, und ein anderes Mitglied der Gesellschaft fabrizierte\ndazu mit uns\u00e4glicher M\u00fche und Arbeit einen Rauchfang, um den Rauch\nhinauszulassen.\nHier lebten sie also soweit ganz gut, bis anfangs September die\nschlimme Neuigkeit kam, da\u00df die Seuche, die sich schon \u00fcber die ganze\nUmgegend verbreitet hatte, nun auch Epping, Woodford und alle sonst um\nden Wald gelegenen St\u00e4dte ergriffen habe. Daran sollten haupts\u00e4chlich\ndie Hausierer schuld sein, die von und nach London her- und hinzogen.\nWenn das wirklich der Fall war, so ist es ein klarer Gegenbeweis gegen\ndie Behauptung, die man sp\u00e4ter in ganz England h\u00f6rte, da\u00df n\u00e4mlich\ndie Marktleute niemals angesteckt wurden oder die Seuche aufs Land\nhinaustrugen, was ich aus eigenem Wissen auch nicht best\u00e4tigen kann.\nDie Fl\u00fcchtlinge aber gerieten nun in gro\u00dfe Aufregung, da die\numliegenden St\u00e4dte tats\u00e4chlich verseucht waren; sie trauten sich nicht\nmehr, sich um Lebensmittel umzutun und kamen dadurch in eine sehr \u00fcble\nLage. Denn nun hatten sie nichts mehr, als was die G\u00fcte der Landherren\nin der Umgegend ihnen zukommen lie\u00df. Ein Gl\u00fcck war, da\u00df einer, von dem\nsie bisher nichts erhalten hatten, nun anfing, ihnen Lebensmittel zu\nschicken und gleich mit einem ansehnlichen Schwein den Beginn machte.\nVon einem andern bekamen sie zwei Schafe und von einem Dritten ein\nKalb, kurz, an Fleisch fehlte es ihnen nicht, und zuweilen kam dazu\nauch noch Milch und K\u00e4se. Nur mit dem Brot sah es schlecht aus, da sie\nnur Weizen besa\u00dfen, aber endlich verfertigte der B\u00e4cker eine Art Ofen\nund brachte damit ganz genie\u00dfbare Brotkuchen zustande. So gelang es\nihnen, ohne weitere Hilfe von den St\u00e4dten auszukommen, und das war gut\nso, denn bald war die ganze Gegend verseucht, und in den umliegenden\nD\u00f6rfern starben nicht weniger als 120 Leute an der Pest.\nAuf dies hin beratschlagten sie aufs neue, und jetzt hatten die St\u00e4dte\nkeinen Grund mehr, sich vor ihnen zu f\u00fcrchten, im Gegenteil zogen\neinige Familien der \u00e4rmeren Bev\u00f6lkerung zu ihnen in den Wald und bauten\nsich dort nach ihrem Vorbild H\u00fctten. Aber schon war es zu sp\u00e4t f\u00fcr\nsie, und die Ansteckung folgte ihnen auch dahin. Das war ein schwerer\nSchlag f\u00fcr die Gesellschaft, als sie davon Kenntnis erhielt. Denn nun\nhie\u00df es wieder weiterwandern, wenn sie sich nicht der Gefahr aussetzen\nwollten, ihr Leben zu verlieren.\nEs ist kein Wunder, da\u00df sie den Ort nur mit schwerem Herzen verlie\u00dfen,\nwo sie so viele Barmherzigkeit und Menschlichkeit erfahren hatten,\naber sie sahen ein, da\u00df ihnen keine Wahl bliebe. So beschlossen sie,\nsich erst an jenen Gutsbesitzer zu wenden, der sich zuerst ihrer\nangenommen hatte, und ihn um Rat und Hilfe zu bitten. Der gute Mann\nredete ihnen zu, den Platz zu verlassen, um nicht von jeder weiteren\nZuflucht abgeschnitten zu werden, wohin sie aber gehen sollten, wu\u00dfte\ner ihnen auch nicht zu sagen. Schlie\u00dflich bat ihn der Kapit\u00e4n, ihnen\nals Friedensrichter Gesundheitszeugnisse auszustellen, die sie \u00fcberall\nseinen Amtsgenossen vorzeigen k\u00f6nnten, damit man sie nicht wieder\nzur\u00fcckwiese, obschon sie nun schon so lange von London fort w\u00e4ren. Dies\ngeschah auch; sie erhielten die Atteste und hatten nun die Freiheit zu\ngehen, wohin es ihnen beliebte.\nMit diesen Zeugnissen versehen machten sie sich also auf den Weg und\nwanderten gegen die S\u00fcmpfe auf der Seite von Waltham zu. Hier trafen\nsie auf einen Mann, der eine Art Wehr im Flusse errichtet hatte, um\ndas Wasser f\u00fcr die aufw\u00e4rtsgehenden Schiffe aufzustauen, und der ihnen\nerz\u00e4hlte, da\u00df alle am Flusse liegenden Orte in ganz Middlesex und\nHertfordshire, auch alle Pl\u00e4tze an der Hauptstra\u00dfe verseucht w\u00e4ren.\nDadurch lie\u00dfen sie sich abschrecken, ihren Weg fortzusetzen, obwohl\nihnen der Mann wahrscheinlich nur etwas vormachte, denn in Wirklichkeit\nlagen die Dinge lange nicht so schlimm.\nSie beschlossen nun, durch den Wald gegen Rumford und Brentwood zu\nziehen, h\u00f6rten aber, da\u00df der ganze Wald schon voll von Fl\u00fcchtlingen aus\nLondon w\u00e4re, die ohne Obdach und Lebensmittel, ein j\u00e4mmerliches Dasein\nf\u00fchrten und von denen es hie\u00df, da\u00df sie durch Gewalttaten aller Art ihr\nLos zu erleichtern suchten. Einige von ihnen hatten neben der Stra\u00dfe\nH\u00fctten errichtet und bettelten in der frechsten und unversch\u00e4mtesten\nWeise, so da\u00df die ganze Gegend in Aufregung geraten war und manche\nfestgenommen werden mu\u00dften.\nMit der Mildt\u00e4tigkeit und Freundlichkeit, die unsere Freunde fr\u00fcher\nerfahren hatten, war\u2019s nun wohl zu Ende, das sahen sie ein, im\nGegenteil waren sie in Gefahr, von den andern Fl\u00fcchtlingen B\u00f6ses\ngew\u00e4rtigen zu m\u00fcssen. In dieser Lage schickten sie den Kapit\u00e4n zu dem\nguten Herrn zur\u00fcck, ihrem Wohlt\u00e4ter, um ihn in ihrer aller Namen noch\neinmal um Rat zu bitten. Den gab er denn auch und meinte, sie sollten\nihr altes Quartier wieder beziehen oder, wenn sie das nicht wollten,\nweil die Jahreszeit schon zu weit fortgeschritten w\u00e4re, sich n\u00e4her an\nder Stra\u00dfe ansiedeln. Dort fanden sie ein altes, halbverlassenes Haus,\ndas kaum noch bewohnbar war und ihnen deshalb gern von dem Bauern, dem\nes geh\u00f6rte, \u00fcberlassen wurde.\nNun gab es f\u00fcr den Zimmermann und seine Helfer gen\u00fcgend Arbeit, aber\nin wenigen Tagen hatten sie das Haus ganz wohnlich hergerichtet, und\nda sie dort einen Kamin und einen Ofen fanden, waren sie auch gegen\ndie kommende K\u00e4lte gesichert. Was sie sonst noch brauchten, n\u00e4mlich\nhaupts\u00e4chlich Bretter, um Fensterladen, Fu\u00dfb\u00f6den und T\u00fcren zu machen,\nerhielten sie von den Leuten, bei denen sie nun schon einmal bekannt\nwaren, und wo ihnen jeder gern aushalf.\nHier richteten sie sich nun f\u00fcr die Dauer ein, entschlossen,\ndazubleiben. Denn sie sahen wohl, wie aufgebracht die Provinz gegen\nalle war, die aus London stammten, und da\u00df sie ohne die gr\u00f6\u00dften\nSchwierigkeiten nirgends durchkommen w\u00fcrden oder auf einen freundlichen\nEmpfang rechnen k\u00f6nnten. Aber trotzdem ihnen von allen Seiten Hilfe\nzuteil wurde, hatten sie doch genug Beschwerden zu erdulden, denn nun,\nim Oktober und November, setzte die K\u00e4lte ein, so da\u00df viele von ihnen\nerkrankten, freilich nicht an der Pest. Im Dezember kehrten sie dann\nwieder nach London in ihre Heimat zur\u00fcck.\nIch habe diese Geschichte so ausf\u00fchrlich erz\u00e4hlt, um zu zeigen, woher\npl\u00f6tzlich die Masse Menschen kam, die in London erschienen, sobald\ndie Seuche nachgelassen hatte. Die bessern Klassen hatten bei ihren\nFreunden auf dem Lande ein Unterkommen gefunden, und jene, die keine\nFreunde drau\u00dfen hatten, waren nach allen Richtungen geflohen, ob\nsie nun Geld hatten oder nicht. Die ersteren kamen am weitesten,\nda sie sich selbst erhalten konnten, die andern aber mu\u00dften die\n\u00e4rgsten Entbehrungen erdulden und konnten sich oft nur durch Stehlen\ndurchbringen. Dadurch wurde man wieder gegen sie aufgebracht und\nsteckte sie ein, obwohl man nicht recht wu\u00dfte, was man mit ihnen\nanfangen sollte und sie nicht gut bestrafen konnte. Oft genug aber\nschob man sie von Ort zu Ort ab, bis sie wieder in London waren.\nIch habe seitdem \u00fcberall nachgefragt und erfahren, da\u00df es eine Menge\nvon diesen armen, ungl\u00fccklichen Leuten gab, die irgendwohin aufs Land\nhinaus geflohen waren und nun in H\u00fctten und Heuschobern ihr Leben\nfristeten, wo man sie zuweilen auch unterst\u00fctzte, wenn sie \u00fcberzeugend\ndartun konnten, da\u00df sie nicht zu sp\u00e4t London verlassen h\u00e4tten. Die\nmeisten aber wohnten in selbstgebauten H\u00fctten auf freiem Feld oder in\nden W\u00e4ldern oder wie Einsiedler in L\u00f6chern und H\u00f6hlen, oder wo sie\nsonst bleiben mochten, wo es ihnen so schlecht ging, da\u00df sie auf jede\nGefahr hin wieder lieber nach der Stadt zur\u00fcckkehrten. Die H\u00fctten\nblieben dann verlassen, und das Landvolk glaubte, da\u00df die Bewohner tot\ndrin l\u00e4gen, und traute sich noch lange nicht, in die N\u00e4he zu kommen.\nUnd wirklich ist es auch durchaus nicht unwahrscheinlich, da\u00df eine\nAnzahl dieser unseligen Fl\u00fcchtlinge allein und verlassen und ohne jede\nHilfe zugrunde ging. --\nVon einem traurigen Fall h\u00f6rte ich, einem B\u00fcrger, der durch die Seuche\nseine Frau und alle Kinder verloren hatte. Nur er, zwei Dienstboten\nund eine alte Frau waren am Leben geblieben, eine Verwandte, die ihre\nAngeh\u00f6rigen bis zum Tode gepflegt hatte. Der Mann begab sich in ein\nnahes noch unverseuchtes Dorf, fand dort ein leeres Haus und mietete es\nvon dem Besitzer. Nach einigen Tagen verschaffte er sich einen Karren,\nbelud ihn mit dem N\u00f6tigsten und fuhr damit hinaus. Die Dorfbewohner\nwollten ihn zwar nicht durchlassen, aber teils durch Zureden, teils\ndurch Gewalt, gelang es den Leuten, die den Karren schoben, doch bis\nzur T\u00fcre des Hauses zu kommen. Aber dort leistete der Konstabler ihnen\nneuen Widerstand und lie\u00df sie nicht ins Haus. Der Mann lie\u00df die Sachen\nvor der T\u00fcr abladen und schickte den Karren weg, worauf man ihn vor\nden Friedensrichter f\u00fchrte. Dieser befahl ihm, die Sachen auf dem\nKarren wieder zur\u00fcckbringen zu lassen, was der Mann verweigerte. Darauf\nschickte der Friedensrichter den Karrenf\u00fchrern den Konstabler nach und\nbeauftragte ihn, sie vorzuf\u00fchren und sie zu zwingen, die Sachen wieder\naufzuladen und fortzubringen, widrigenfalls sie in den Stock gelegt\nw\u00fcrden. Sollte er die Leute nicht finden und der Mann sich nicht bereit\nfinden lassen, die Sachen zu entfernen, so sollten sie mit Hacken auf\ndie Stra\u00dfe gezogen und dort verbrannt werden. Auf das hin lie\u00df der arme\nTeufel die Sachen wieder holen, aber nicht, ohne sich \u00fcber die ihm\nwiderfahrene H\u00e4rte und Grausamkeit aufs bitterste zu beklagen. Aber es\nhalf nun einmal nichts, der Selbsterhaltungstrieb zwang die Leute zu\nsolchen Ma\u00dfregeln, von denen sie unter andern Umst\u00e4nden nichts h\u00e4tten\nwissen wollen. Was aus dem Manne wurde, kann ich nicht sagen, aber es\nhie\u00df, er w\u00e4re schon damals angesteckt gewesen, wenn das auch vielleicht\nnur die Leute sagten, um ihr Vorgehen zu rechtfertigen.\nEin Haus in Whitechapel wurde eines angesteckten Dienstm\u00e4dchens wegen\nabgesperrt, das nur Flecken, nicht die eigentlichen Merkmale der Seuche\nhatte und sp\u00e4ter auch wieder gesund wurde. Die Hausleute durften also\n40 Tage lang auch keinen Schritt an die Luft gehen. Angst, \u00c4rger, Wut,\nMangel an frischer Luft und was sonst noch mit einer solch schlimmen\nBehandlung zusammenhing, zogen der Hausfrau ein Fieber zu. Darauf\nerschienen die Visitatoren und sagten, sie h\u00e4tte die Pest, obwohl die\n\u00c4rzte erkl\u00e4rten, da\u00df das nicht der Fall w\u00e4re. So wurde die Familie\ngezwungen, die Absperrungszeit von neuem durchzumachen, obwohl an der\nersten nur noch ein paar Tage fehlten. Der Kummer und die Emp\u00f6rung\ndar\u00fcber warfen sie nun alle aufs Krankenlager, die einen erkrankten\nan Skorbut, andere an \u00e4hnlichen \u00dcbeln, bis schlie\u00dflich, nachdem die\nAbsperrung noch mehrmals verl\u00e4ngert worden war, einige Besucher, die\nmit den Visitatoren kamen in der Hoffnung, die \u00c4rmsten endlich in\nFreiheit zu setzen, wirklich die Seuche ins Haus schleppten, an der\nfast alle starben. Also nicht an der Pest, die sie gehabt hatten,\nsondern die jene ihnen zugebracht hatten, die sie davor h\u00e4tten sch\u00fctzen\nsollen. Dergleichen passierte h\u00e4ufig genug und war eine der schlimmsten\nFolgen der H\u00e4userabsperrung.\nUm diese Zeit mu\u00dfte ich eine kleine M\u00fche auf mich nehmen, die mich\nzuerst in gro\u00dfe Best\u00fcrzung versetzte und sehr unbehaglich machte,\nobwohl sich sp\u00e4ter herausstellte, da\u00df es damit nicht so schlimm\nwar. Der Ratsherr unseres Distriktes n\u00e4mlich ernannte mich zu einem\nder Untersuchungsbeamten in dem Bezirk, wo ich wohnte. In unserm\nKirchspiel gab es deren nicht weniger als 18. Wir hatten den Titel\nUntersuchungsbeamte, das Volk aber nannte uns Visitatoren. Ich\nversuchte alles m\u00f6gliche, um mich von einem solchen Amte loszumachen\nund brachte gegen den Stellvertreter des Ratsherrn einen Haufen Gr\u00fcnde\nvor, die mich verhinderten. Besonders f\u00fchrte ich an, da\u00df ich gegen\ndie Absperrung der H\u00e4user sei, und da\u00df es unrecht w\u00e4re, mich zur\nDurchf\u00fchrung einer Ma\u00dfregel zu zwingen, die gegen meine \u00dcberzeugung\nw\u00e4re, und wie ich glaube, auch keinen wirklichen Nutzen br\u00e4chte.\nDas einzige aber, was ich erreichen konnte, war, da\u00df ich anstatt\nder \u00fcblichen zwei Monate nur auf drei Wochen verpflichtet wurde,\nvorausgesetzt, da\u00df ich dann einen geeigneten Stellvertreter namhaft\nmachen k\u00f6nne. Das war freilich nur ein schwacher Trost, denn es war\n\u00e4u\u00dferst schwierig, jemanden zu finden, der ein solches Amt auf sich\nnehmen wollte.\nEinen Erfolg hatte tats\u00e4chlich die Absperrung der H\u00e4user, den ich\ndurchaus nicht verkleinern will. Den Erkrankten wurde es dadurch\nunm\u00f6glich gemacht, in den Stra\u00dfen herumzulaufen, wie es am Anfang so\noft geschah, ehe man sie einschlo\u00df. Damals kam es sogar vor, da\u00df sie an\ndie Haust\u00fcren kamen, erkl\u00e4rten, sie h\u00e4tten die Pest und um alte Lumpen\nbaten, um ihre Geschw\u00fcre zu verbinden.\nDie Frau eines wohlhabenden B\u00fcrgers wurde, wenn die Geschichte wahr\nist, von einem solchen Gesch\u00f6pf in der Aldersgate-Stra\u00dfe oder da\nherum umgebracht. Der Mann, ganz von Sinnen, wanderte singend durch\ndie Stra\u00dfen. Die Leute meinten, er w\u00e4re nur betrunken, aber er selbst\nsagte, er h\u00e4tte die Pest, was auch wohl wahr war. Als er der Frau\nbegegnete, wollte er sie k\u00fcssen. Entsetzt dar\u00fcber, denn er war ein\nroher Patron, rannte sie davon, da aber nur wenig Leute auf der Stra\u00dfe\nwaren, konnte ihr niemand zu Hilfe kommen. Als sie sah, da\u00df sie ihm\nnicht entfliehen k\u00f6nne, wandte sie sich um und gab ihm mit aller Kraft\neinen solchen Sto\u00df, da\u00df er, schwach wie er war, auf die Erde fiel. Aber\nungl\u00fccklicherweise hielt er sich an ihr und zog sie auch zu Boden,\nworauf er sie packte und k\u00fc\u00dfte. Das Scheu\u00dflichste war, da\u00df er ihr\ndann sagte, er habe die Pest, und warum solle sie sie nicht ebensogut\nkriegen? Sie war schon zuvor au\u00dfer sich, besonders da sie seit einigen\nMonaten schwanger war, als sie ihn nun aber sagen h\u00f6rte, da\u00df er die\nPest habe, schrie sie auf und fiel in Ohnmacht oder vielmehr bekam\neinen Anfall, von dem sie sich zwar wieder erholte, aber doch wenige\nTage darauf starb, ob an der Pest oder nicht, habe ich nicht erfahren\nk\u00f6nnen.\nEin anderer erkrankter Mann erschien an der T\u00fcr eines B\u00fcrgers und\nklopfte. Da er dort gut bekannt war, lie\u00df ihn das Dienstm\u00e4dchen ein,\nund als man ihm sagte, der Hausherr w\u00e4re oben, lief er hinauf und\ntrat in das Zimmer, wo eben die ganze Familie beim Abendessen war.\nSie erhoben sich ein wenig erstaunt, da sie nicht wu\u00dften, um was es\nsich handelte. Der Mann aber bat sie, ruhig sitzenzubleiben, er k\u00e4me\nnur, um Abschied zu nehmen. \u00bbWieso?\u00ab fragte man ihn, \u00bbwohin geht Ihr\ndenn?\u00ab -- \u00bbWohin --\u00ab antwortete er, \u00bbich habe die Pest und werde bis\nmorgen abend tot sein.\u00ab Es d\u00fcrfte schwer sein, sich die Best\u00fcrzung der\nganzen Familie auszumalen. Die Frauen und die T\u00f6chter, die noch kleine\nM\u00e4dchen waren, hatten vor Schrecken beinahe den Tod. Sie standen auf\nund rannten hinaus, die eine zu der T\u00fcr, die andere zur andern, die\nTreppe hinauf und hinab, und als sie endlich alle beisammen waren,\nschlossen sie sich im Zimmer ein und schrien aus dem Fenster wie die\nWahnsinnigen um Hilfe. Der Hausherr, der trotz alles Schreckens und\naller Emp\u00f6rung ruhiger geblieben war, wollte den Eindringling zuerst\npacken und die Treppe hinunterwerfen. Dann aber \u00fcberlegte er den\nZustand des Mannes und die Gefahr ihn zu ber\u00fchren, und vor Entsetzen\nerstarrte er, ohne eine Bewegung machen zu k\u00f6nnen. Der arme Kranke,\ndem die Ansteckung wohl schon bis ins Gehirn gedrungen war, stand\nmittlerweile ganz still. Endlich wandte er sich um. \u00bbSo, so,\u00ab sagte er\nmit der gr\u00f6\u00dften Ruhe, \u00bbist es so mit euch allen! Hab\u2019 ich euch wirklich\ngest\u00f6rt? Dann will ich nach Hause gehen und dort sterben.\u00ab Mit diesen\nWorten ging er zur T\u00fcr und die Treppe hinunter. Das Dienstm\u00e4dchen, das\nihn hereingelassen hatte, folgte ihm mit einem Licht, hatte aber Angst,\nan ihm vorbeizugehen und die T\u00fcre zu \u00f6ffnen, so blieb sie auf der\nTreppe stehen, um zu sehen, was er tun w\u00fcrde. Der Mann machte die T\u00fcr\nauf, ging hinaus und warf sie hinter sich zu. Es dauerte einige Zeit,\nbis die Familie \u00fcber den Schrecken wegkam, da aber schlimme Folgen\nausblieben, haben sie seitdem die Geschichte oft mit gro\u00dfer Genugtuung\nerz\u00e4hlt. Der Mann war jedoch schon einige Tage fort, ehe sie sich\nwieder im Hause richtig zu bewegen trauten, und auch dann erst, als sie\neinen Haufen R\u00e4ucherwerk in allen Zimmern verbrannt und einen dicken\nRauch mit Pech, Schwefel und Schie\u00dfpulver gemacht hatten. Auch trugen\nsie Sorge, die Kleider zu wechseln und zu waschen. Was aber den armen\nMann anbelangt, so kann ich mich nicht erinnern, ob er auch wirklich\ngestorben ist.\nH\u00e4tte man die H\u00e4user nicht abgesperrt und die Kranken eingeschlossen,\nso w\u00e4ren sicher Haufen von ihnen in ihren Fieberdelirien best\u00e4ndig auf\nden Stra\u00dfen hin und her gelaufen. Es taten\u2019s ja so eine ganze Menge,\ndie gegen die ihnen Begegnenden alle m\u00f6glichen Gewaltt\u00e4tigkeiten\nver\u00fcbten, wie ja auch die tollen Hunde jeden bei\u00dfen, der ihnen in den\nWeg kommt. Ich bin auch \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df jeder, der von solch einem\nverseuchten Gesch\u00f6pfe gebissen worden w\u00e4re, sicher eine unheilbare\nAnsteckung davongetragen haben w\u00fcrde.\nIch h\u00f6rte von einem Kranken, der von der Qual der Geschw\u00fclste, von\ndenen er drei hatte, aus dem Bett getrieben wurde, die Schuhe anzog und\nnach seinem Rock griff, aber von der Pflegerin daran gehindert wurde.\nSie ri\u00df ihm den Rock weg, er aber warf sie zu Boden, rannte die Treppe\nhinunter und im Hemd gerade auf die Stra\u00dfe, die zum Flusse f\u00fchrt. Die\nPflegerin hinter ihm her, rief dem W\u00e4chter zu, ihn aufzuhalten, aber\nder hatte Angst ihn anzur\u00fchren und lie\u00df ihn weiterlaufen. Er rannte\nbis zu den Stillyard-Stufen, zog sein Hemd aus und sprang ins Wasser.\nUnd da er ein guter Schwimmer war, schwamm er bis ans andere Ufer,\nals gerade die Flut einsetzte und ihn bis zu den Stufen bei Falcon\nhinabtrug, wo er aus dem Wasser stieg. Wie er nun jetzt, zur Nachtzeit,\nniemand sah, rannte er splitternackt eine Zeitlang in den Stra\u00dfen\numher, sprang dann wieder ins Wasser und kam mit der Flut an denselben\nPlatz zur\u00fcck, von wo er weggeschwommen war. Dann lief er nach Hause,\nklopfte an die T\u00fcr, stieg die Treppe hinauf und legte sich wieder ins\nBett. Durch dieses merkw\u00fcrdige Mittel genas er von der Pest, d. h. die\nheftige Bewegung von Armen und Beinen brachte die Geschw\u00fclste in den\nSchulterh\u00f6hlen und der Leistengegend zum Reifen und Aufbrechen, und\ndas kalte Wasser schlug das Fieber nieder.\nAber ungeachtet all solcher Vorf\u00e4lle war man doch gegen die Absperrung\nder H\u00e4user recht aufgebracht.\nEs ging einem durch Mark und Bein, das Geschrei der Kranken zu h\u00f6ren,\ndie von der Hitze im Blut oder der Heftigkeit ihrer Schmerzen von\nSinnen gebracht, eingeschlossen oder an die St\u00fchle oder die Betten\ngebunden waren, um zu verh\u00fcten, da\u00df sie sich selbst besch\u00e4digten. Sie\nbeklagten sich immer wieder aufs j\u00e4mmerlichste, da\u00df man sie einsperrte\nund nicht im Freien sterben lie\u00df, wie sie es haben wollten.\nDas Umhergelaufe der Erkrankten auf den Stra\u00dfen war wirklich\ngrausig, und die Beh\u00f6rden taten alles, um es zu verhindern, da es\naber gew\u00f6hnlich bei Nacht geschah und sich um pl\u00f6tzliche Ausbr\u00fcche\nhandelte, war meistens niemand da, der es h\u00e4tte verhindern k\u00f6nnen. Und\nselbst bei Tage hatten die damit Beauftragten keine gro\u00dfe Lust, sich\neinzumischen. Denn nur auf der H\u00f6he der Ansteckung traten diese Anf\u00e4lle\nein, und demgem\u00e4\u00df waren auch die Kranken besonders gef\u00e4hrlich, und es\nwar das gr\u00f6\u00dfte Wagnis der Welt, sie zu ber\u00fchren. Lie\u00df man sie aber in\nRuhe, so rannten sie meistens so lange weiter, bis sie pl\u00f6tzlich tot\numfielen oder v\u00f6llig ersch\u00f6pft zu Boden st\u00fcrzten und dann nach einer\nhalben Stunde oder einer Stunde starben. Das Kl\u00e4glichste aber war,\nda\u00df sie in dieser halben Stunde oder Stunde wieder zu sich kamen\nund dann die herzbrechendsten Klagen und Schreie ausstie\u00dfen \u00fcber\nihre bejammerungsw\u00fcrdige Lage. Ehe die Absperrung der H\u00e4user streng\ndurchgef\u00fchrt wurde, waren solche Anblicke nichts Seltenes, denn anfangs\nnahmen es die W\u00e4chter mit ihrer Pflicht nicht so ernst und genau wie\nsp\u00e4ter. Erst, als einige aufs strengste f\u00fcr ihre Nachl\u00e4ssigkeit und\nPflichtvergessenheit bestraft wurden, weil sie die Leute unter ihrer\nAufsicht ob krank oder ob gesund hatten entschl\u00fcpfen oder mit ihrem\nEinverst\u00e4ndnis sich fl\u00fcchten lassen, wurde es anders. Sie merkten nun,\nda\u00df die Oberen, die ihre F\u00fchrung zu pr\u00fcfen und untersuchen hatten,\nentschlossen waren, sie zur Aus\u00fcbung ihrer Pflicht zu zwingen oder zur\nRechenschaft zu ziehen. Von da an wurden die Leute strenge bewacht, was\nsie aber aufs \u00fcbelste aufnahmen und mit solchem Unwillen ertrugen, da\u00df\nes kaum zu beschreiben ist. Aber die Notwendigkeit dazu war nun einmal\nda, das kann nicht geleugnet werden, au\u00dfer man h\u00e4tte zur rechten Zeit\nandere Ma\u00dfregeln ergriffen, f\u00fcr die es nun zu sp\u00e4t war.\nH\u00e4tte man die Erkrankten nicht abgeschlossen, so w\u00fcrde damals London\nder schrecklichste Ort auf der ganzen Welt gewesen sein. Ich glaube,\nda\u00df dann ebensoviel Leute auf der Stra\u00dfe gestorben w\u00e4ren als in ihren\nWohnungen. Denn w\u00e4hrend die Krankheit auf ihrem H\u00f6hepunkte war, wurden\nsie rasend und wie wahnsinnig, und man konnte sie nicht dazu bringen,\nim Bett zu bleiben, au\u00dfer durch Gewalt. Viele, die nicht angebunden\nwaren, sprangen zum Fenster hinaus, als sie sahen, da\u00df man sie zur T\u00fcr\nnicht hinauslassen w\u00fcrde.\nEs kam von dem Aufh\u00f6ren allen Verkehres w\u00e4hrend dieser Ungl\u00fcckszeit,\nda\u00df man nur wenig von Einzelheiten erfuhr, die in verschiedenen\nFamilien vorkamen. Ich glaube, bis auf diesen Tag wei\u00df man nicht, wie\nviele Leute w\u00e4hrend ihrer Delirien sich in der Themse ertr\u00e4nkten und\nin dem Flusse, der bei Hackney vorbeiflie\u00dft und als Wareflu\u00df oder\nHackneyflu\u00df bekannt ist. Was in den Sterberegistern davon angef\u00fchrt\nwurde, war nur unbedeutend; denn wie h\u00e4tte man auch wissen k\u00f6nnen,\nwer durch irgendein Ungl\u00fcck ertrunken war und wer nicht. Ich habe mir\nausgerechnet, da\u00df in diesem Jahre mehr Leute ertranken als \u00fcberhaupt in\nden Sterbelisten aufgef\u00fchrt sind, denn manche Leichen wurden niemals\naufgefunden von Leuten, die man vermi\u00dfte. Und so war es auch mit den\nandern Arten von Selbstmord. Ein Mann in der N\u00e4he der Whitecro\u00df-Stra\u00dfe\nverbrannte sich in seinem Bett. Einige sagen, er habe es selbst getan,\nandere, da\u00df es durch die Verworfenheit seiner Pflegerin geschah, nur\ndarin stimmen alle \u00fcberein, da\u00df er die Pest hatte.\nIch wurde wieder von meinem gef\u00e4hrlichen Amte entbunden, sobald ich\nmir f\u00fcr einiges Geld einen Stellvertreter verschafft hatte. So war ich\nstatt der \u00fcblichen zwei Monate nicht l\u00e4nger als drei Wochen im Amte,\nlang genug, wenn man bedenkt, da\u00df es im August war, als die Seuche mit\nvoller Heftigkeit in unserm Stadtteil ausbrach.\nW\u00e4hrend ich meinen Amtsgesch\u00e4ften nachging, konnte ich mich nicht\nzur\u00fcckhalten, meinen Freunden offen meine Meinung zu sagen in Hinsicht\nauf die Absperrung der H\u00e4user. Unser Haupteinwand war, da\u00df sie letzten\nEndes erfolglos war. Denn die Kranken liefen doch auf der Stra\u00dfe\numher. Es war unser aller Ansicht, da\u00df eine Ma\u00dfregel, die in einem\nverseuchten Hause die Kranken von den Gesunden getrennt h\u00e4tte, in\nmehreren Hinsichten viel vern\u00fcnftiger gewesen w\u00e4re. Man h\u00e4tte dann bei\nden Kranken nur solche Personen gelassen, die ausdr\u00fccklich darum baten\nund sich bereit erkl\u00e4rten, mit den Kranken abgesperrt zu werden.\nUnser Vorschlag ging dahin, die Gesunden von den Kranken abzusondern,\nnat\u00fcrlich nur in verseuchten H\u00e4usern. Denn die Kranken abzusperren,\nkonnte man keine Absperrung hei\u00dfen. Jene, die sich nicht r\u00fchren\nkonnten, h\u00e4tten sich sicher nicht dar\u00fcber beklagt, so lange sie noch\nbei Sinnen waren und ein Urteil hatten. Freilich, wenn das Fieber \u00fcber\nsie kam, schrien sie laut \u00fcber die Unmenschlichkeit, sie einzusperren.\nWas nun die Entfernung der Gesunden betrifft, so hielten wir\u2019s f\u00fcr\nebenso vern\u00fcnftig als gerecht, sie um ihrer eigenen Sicherheit willen\nvon den Kranken zu trennen. Zum Schutz der andern Leute konnte man sie\nja f\u00fcr eine Zeitlang absondern, damit sie nicht Gesunde ansteckten,\naber dazu schienen uns 20 oder 30 Tage gen\u00fcgend.\nH\u00e4tte man nun Geb\u00e4ulichkeiten f\u00fcr die Gesunden hergerichtet, um dort\ndiese halbe Quarant\u00e4ne abzusitzen, so h\u00e4tten sie sich kaum dar\u00fcber\nbeklagen k\u00f6nnen, wie es geschah, wenn man sie mit den Angesteckten\nzusammensperrte.\nEs mu\u00df aber bemerkt werden, da\u00df man mit dem Absperren der H\u00e4user\naufh\u00f6rte, als der Begr\u00e4bnisse so viele geworden waren, da\u00df man nicht\nmehr die Sterbeglocke ziehen, trauern, weinen oder schwarze Kleidung\ntragen konnte, wie es fr\u00fcher geschehen war. Nicht einmal S\u00e4rge gab es\ndamals mehr f\u00fcr die Toten. Die Wut der Seuche erschien zu f\u00fcrchterlich,\nund alle Ma\u00dfregeln, die man versucht hatte, waren fruchtlos gewesen.\nDie Pest verbreitete sich mit unwiderstehlicher Gewalt, wie im\nfolgenden Jahre das Feuer, das zu l\u00f6schen die B\u00fcrger auch in ihrer\nVerzweiflung aufgaben. So wurde auch endlich die Heftigkeit der Pest\nso furchtbar, da\u00df die Leute nur noch still einander ansahen und sich\nder Verzweiflung \u00fcberlie\u00dfen. Ganze Stra\u00dfen schienen verlassen und nicht\nnur abgesperrt, sondern aller Bewohner entbl\u00f6\u00dft. T\u00fcren standen auf,\ndie Fenster schlugen im Winde gegen die leeren H\u00e4user, da niemand da\nwar, sie zu schlie\u00dfen. Mit einem Worte: das Volk fing an, in Angst und\nEntsetzen zu versinken und zu glauben, da\u00df doch alle Ma\u00dfregeln und\nGegenmittel umsonst w\u00e4ren. Man wartete auf nichts mehr als auf ein\nallgemeines Verderben, und gerade dann, als die Verzweiflung auf den\nH\u00f6hepunkt gestiegen war, gefiel es Gott, seine Hand zu erheben und\nder Wut der Seuche Einhalt zu gebieten, in einer Weise, die ebenso\nwunderbar war, wie der Beginn, und kl\u00e4rlich anzeigte, da\u00df seine Hand im\nSpiele war und der Gegenma\u00dfregeln nicht bedurfte.\nAber noch mu\u00df ich weiter von der Pest erz\u00e4hlen, als sie am \u00e4rgsten\nw\u00fctete und das Volk geradezu zur Verzweiflung brachte. Es ist kaum zu\nglauben, was die Menschen alles in diesem Zustande vollf\u00fchrten. Kann\nman sich z. B. etwas Grausigeres vorstellen, als einen halbnackten\nMann, der aus seinem Hause oder vielleicht gerade aus dem Bett kam\nund nun tanzend und singend unter tausend fratzenhaften Geb\u00e4rden auf\nder Stra\u00dfe umherlief, w\u00e4hrend f\u00fcnf oder sechs Frauen und Kinder ihm\nnachrannten, weinend und schreiend, er m\u00f6chte doch um Gottes willen\nheimkommen, und die Hilfe aller Begegnenden anrufend, aber umsonst,\nda sich doch niemand traute, ihn zu ber\u00fchren oder in seine N\u00e4he zu\nkommen. Es brach mir fast das Herz, w\u00e4hrend ich von meinem Fenster aus\nzusah. Denn zu allem kam noch, da\u00df der Kranke offenbar die \u00e4u\u00dferste\nQual ausstand. Er hatte zwei Geschw\u00fclste an seinem K\u00f6rper, die nicht\nzum Aufbrechen oder Eitern zu bringen waren, weswegen man \u00c4tzmittel\naufgelegt hatte, die wie gl\u00fchendes Eisen in sein Fleisch brannten. Ich\nwei\u00df nicht, was aus diesem Ungl\u00fccklichen wurde, aber ich denke, er wird\nwohl weitergelaufen sein, bis er hinfiel und starb.\nKein Wunder, da\u00df der Anblick auch der innern Stadt nur noch Entsetzen\nerregen konnte. Wo sonst ein lebhafter Verkehr war, herrschte jetzt\nEinsamkeit und \u00d6de. Die B\u00f6rse war zwar nicht geschlossen, aber niemand\nging hin. Die Stra\u00dfenfeuer waren zusammengesunken und infolge eines\nheftigen Regens fast erloschen, aber einige \u00c4rzte erkl\u00e4rten, da\u00df sie\nnicht nur keinen Nutzen h\u00e4tten, sondern der allgemeinen Volksgesundheit\neher sch\u00e4dlich w\u00e4ren. Sie machten dar\u00fcber ein gro\u00dfes Geschrei und\nwandten sich sogar an den Lordmayor. Andere \u00c4rzte, die ebenso ber\u00fchmt\nwaren, traten ihnen entgegen und brachten allerlei Gr\u00fcnde vor, warum\ndie Feuer unterhalten werden m\u00fc\u00dften, und inwiefern sie notwendig w\u00e4ren,\num die Heftigkeit der Seuche zu brechen. Ich erinnere mich nicht mehr\nan alle Argumente, die von beiden Seiten ins Treffen gef\u00fchrt wurden,\nund wei\u00df nur noch, da\u00df sie sich gegenseitig aufs eifrigste befehdeten.\nDie einen sprachen sich f\u00fcr die Feuer aus, vorausgesetzt, da\u00df es Holz-\nnicht Kohlenfeuer w\u00e4ren und durch besondere Holzgattungen, vornehmlich\nKiefern und Zedern, des Harzes wegen, gen\u00e4hrt w\u00fcrden; andere waren f\u00fcr\nKohlen- und nicht f\u00fcr Holzfeuer, weil jene mehr Schwefel und Erdpech\nenthielten; die dritte Partei war \u00fcberhaupt gegen jede Art von Feuer.\n\u00dcbrigens verf\u00fcgte der Lordmayor, da\u00df mit den Feuern aufgeh\u00f6rt w\u00fcrde,\nund zwar haupts\u00e4chlich deshalb, weil man einsah, da\u00df alle Gegenmittel\nerfolglos waren und mehr dazu dienten, die Seuche zu verschlimmern als\nihr vorzubeugen. Diese Erfolglosigkeit der Anstrengungen der Beh\u00f6rden\nkam aber mehr von ihrer Unf\u00e4higkeit als von ihrer Abneigung, sich der\nGefahr auszusetzen oder von einem Mangel an Verantwortungsfreudigkeit.\nWenn man ihnen gerecht sein will, mu\u00df man anerkennen, da\u00df sie weder\nM\u00fche noch Kr\u00e4fte sparten, aber es half alles nichts, die Seuche w\u00fctete\nweiter und brachte die Bev\u00f6lkerung in die \u00e4u\u00dferste Verzweiflung, so da\u00df\nsie jede Hoffnung aufgab.\nHier mu\u00df ich jedoch bemerken, da\u00df ich keine religi\u00f6se Verzweiflung\nmeine oder eine Verzweiflung an den ewigen Verhei\u00dfungen, wenn ich\nsage, die Bev\u00f6lkerung habe sich der Verzweiflung \u00fcberlassen. Ich\nmeine: sie hatte jede Hoffnung verloren, der Seuche zu entgehen oder\nsie zu \u00fcberleben, nachdem sie ihre unwiderstehliche Gewalt gesehen\nhatte. In der Tat entrann w\u00e4hrend der H\u00f6he der Seuche fast niemand\nvon den einmal Angesteckten dem Tode. Das war besonders im August und\nSeptember, w\u00e4hrend im Juni und Juli und auch noch Anfang August viele\nerkrankten, aber nach einigen Tagen wieder gesund wurden. Jetzt aber\ndauerte die Krankheit meistens nur zwei oder drei Tage und nahm fast\nstets einen t\u00f6dlichen Verlauf. Oft starben die Leute am gleichen Tage,\nda sie angesteckt wurden. Ob die Hundstage oder, wie die Astrologen\ndas auszudr\u00fccken pflegten, der Einflu\u00df des Hundssterns diese b\u00f6sartige\nWirkung hatte, oder ob die Ansteckung nun bei allen zugleich zum\nAusbruch kam, wei\u00df ich nicht, aber es war die Zeit, da in einer\neinzigen Nacht 3000 Personen gestorben sein sollen. Diejenigen, die\nangeblich besonders genaue Beobachtungen anzustellen in der Lage waren,\nbehaupteten, da\u00df sie alle binnen zwei Stunden starben, n\u00e4mlich zwischen\n1 Uhr und 3 Uhr des Morgens.\nF\u00fcr den pl\u00f6tzlichen Verlauf der Todesf\u00e4lle in dieser Zeit gibt es\nunz\u00e4hlige Beispiele, und ich k\u00f6nnte mehrere davon in meiner n\u00e4chsten\nNachbarschaft anf\u00fchren. Eine Familie, die gerade au\u00dferhalb der\nSchlagb\u00e4ume und nicht weit von mir wohnte, war allem Anschein nach noch\nam Montag v\u00f6llig wohl. Sie z\u00e4hlte alles in allem zehn Mitglieder. Am\nAbend legten sich ein Dienstm\u00e4dchen und ein Lehrling und starben am\nn\u00e4chsten Morgen. Tags darauf wurde der zweite Lehrling und zwei Kinder\nvon der Seuche ergriffen, von denen eines noch am selben Abend, die\nbeiden andern am Mittwoch starben. Bis Samstag mittag waren alle: Mann,\nFrau, vier Kinder und vier Dienstboten eine Beute des Todes. Das Haus\nwar v\u00f6llig leer bis auf ein \u00e4ltliches Frauenzimmer, das f\u00fcr den Bruder\ndes verstorbenen Hausherrn die Aufsicht \u00fcber die zur\u00fcckgelassenen\nSachen \u00fcbernahm. Sie wohnte in der N\u00e4he und war nicht erkrankt.\nViele H\u00e4user, deren Bewohner ausgestorben waren, waren nun g\u00e4nzlich\nverlassen, besonders in einer engen Gasse auf meiner Seite au\u00dferhalb\nder Schlagb\u00e4ume, die beim Wirtshaus von Aaron und Moses abbiegt. In\nmehreren H\u00e4usern nebeneinander war nicht ein Mensch mehr am Leben,\nund die Letztverstorbenen lagen lange darin herum, ehe sie begraben\nwurden. Der Grund hierf\u00fcr war aber nicht, wie man sp\u00e4ter behauptet\nhat, da\u00df es nicht mehr genug Lebendige gab, um die Toten zu begraben,\nsondern, weil die Seuche in der Gasse niemand mehr \u00fcbrig gelassen\nhatte, der die Leichentr\u00e4ger oder K\u00fcster h\u00e4tte benachrichtigen k\u00f6nnen,\nda\u00df noch Tote vorhanden waren. Man erz\u00e4hlte, ob mit Recht, ist mir\nnicht bekannt, da\u00df einige jener Leichen so verfault und zersetzt waren,\nda\u00df man sie kaum noch herausschaffen konnte. Besonders auch, weil die\nGasse zu eng war, um mit dem Karren weiter als bis zum Tor in der\nHigh-Stra\u00dfe zu gelangen. Um wie viele Leichen es sich handelte, wei\u00df\nich nicht. Jedenfalls bin ich \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df f\u00fcr gew\u00f6hnlich derartiges\nnicht vorkam.\nIch mu\u00df wohl zugeben, da\u00df jene Zeit so f\u00fcrchterlich war, da\u00df alle meine\nEntschl\u00fcsse zusammenbrachen und ich den anfangs gezeigten Mut nicht\naufrechtzuerhalten vermochte. Wie die Verzweiflung andere Leute aus\nder Stadt trieb, so trieb sie mich nach Hause, und nach meinem kleinen\nAusflug nach Blackwell und Greenwich, von dem ich schon erz\u00e4hlt habe,\nblieb ich fast best\u00e4ndig zwischen meinen vier W\u00e4nden, wie ich es schon\nfr\u00fcher 14 Tage lang gemacht hatte. Ich wiederhole, da\u00df mich oft die\nReue fa\u00dfte, in der Stadt geblieben zu sein und nicht mit meinem Bruder\nund seiner Familie mich fortgemacht zu haben. Aber f\u00fcr die Reue war\nes nun zu sp\u00e4t. Nachdem ich schon lange Zeit mich im Hause gehalten\nhatte, ehe meine Ungeduld und Neugier mich zu dem besagten Ausflug\nveranla\u00dften, brachte mich die Folgezeit in ein gef\u00e4hrliches und nicht\nweniger als angenehmes Amt, das mich zum Ausgehen zwang. Als nun meine\nAmtsdauer abgelaufen war, die Seuche aber noch immer in voller St\u00e4rke\nandauerte, zog ich mich von neuem zur\u00fcck und schlo\u00df mich f\u00fcr zehn oder\nzw\u00f6lf Tage ein. Doch gab es noch manchen schauerlichen Anblick, den\nich aus meinem Fenster mitansehen mu\u00dfte, wie jenes ungl\u00fccklichen, in\nseiner Todesangst tanzenden und singenden Menschen, und noch viele\nandere. Kaum ein Tag oder eine Nacht verging, ohne da\u00df sich das eine\noder andere F\u00fcrchterliche am Ende der Harrow-Gasse ereignete, wo nur\narme Leute, haupts\u00e4chlich Fleischer wohnten, oder solche, die mit dem\nSchlachten irgendwie zu tun hatten.\nZuweilen spie diese Gasse Haufen von Menschen, meistens Weiber aus,\ndie mit Schreien, Kreischen, Heulen und Durcheinanderbr\u00fcllen einen\nschrecklichen L\u00e4rm vollf\u00fchrten, so da\u00df wir gar nicht wu\u00dften, was wir\ndaraus machen sollten. Fast jede Nacht stand der Leichenkarren am Ende\nder Gasse, denn innen konnte er nicht mehr umwenden und blieb stecken.\nDort stand er, um die Leichen in Empfang zu nehmen, und da der Kirchhof\nnicht weit entfernt war, kehrte er immer gleich wieder zur\u00fcck, wenn er\nseine Last abgeladen hatte. Es ist ganz unm\u00f6glich, das Klagegeschrei\nund Gejammer zu beschreiben, das die armen Leute ausstie\u00dfen, wenn\nsie die Leichen ihrer Kinder und Freunde an den Karren brachten.\nEs waren so viele, da\u00df man denken mu\u00dfte, kein einziger w\u00e4re mehr\nzur\u00fcckgeblieben; genug, um eine kleine Stadt zu bev\u00f6lkern. Manchmal\nschrien sie: \u00bbMord!\u00ab manchmal: \u00bbFeuer!\u00ab es war aber leicht zu sehen,\nda\u00df das nur in ihrer Verwirrung geschah, in die sie Krankheit und\nVerzweiflung gest\u00fcrzt hatten.\nIch glaube, es war \u00fcberall so zu dieser Zeit, denn die Pest w\u00fctete\nsechs oder sieben Wochen lang \u00fcber alle Beschreibung schrecklich\nund erreichte endlich eine solche H\u00f6he, da\u00df alle die beh\u00f6rdlichen\nMa\u00dfregeln, die noch beobachtet worden waren, au\u00dfer acht gelassen\nwurden. Bisher hatte man weder Leichen auf den Stra\u00dfen gesehen, noch\nhatte es Begr\u00e4bnisse w\u00e4hrend der Tageszeit gegeben, aber nun brach die\nganze, m\u00fchsam aufrecht erhaltene Ordnung f\u00fcr eine Zeitlang zusammen.\nEtwas m\u00f6chte ich hier nicht zu erw\u00e4hnen vers\u00e4umen, da es mir merkw\u00fcrdig\nerscheint und zum wenigsten die Hand der g\u00f6ttlichen Gerechtigkeit\ndeutlich zeigt, n\u00e4mlich, da\u00df alle die Wahrsager, Astrologen,\nSchwarzk\u00fcnstler, Geisterbeschw\u00f6rer, Hexenmeister, Traumdeuter und\nwie sie sonst alle hei\u00dfen m\u00f6gen, fort und verschwunden waren. Nicht\nein einziger von ihnen war noch aufzufinden. Ich glaube wohl, da\u00df\neine gro\u00dfe Zahl von ihnen der Wut der Seuche zum Opfer fiel, meistens\nwahrscheinlich solche, die die Aussicht auf gro\u00dfen Gewinn zum Bleiben\nverlockt hatte. Eine Zeitlang verdienten sie auch wirklich gl\u00e4nzend\nan der Torheit und Unzurechnungsf\u00e4higkeit der Leute. Jetzt aber\nwaren sie stumm geworden, und manche hatten ein Schicksal gefunden,\ndas vorherzusehen sie nicht imstande gewesen waren und auch in ihren\neigenen Horoskopen nicht entdeckt hatten. Es hat nicht an Behauptungen\ngefehlt, da\u00df alle insgesamt gestorben w\u00e4ren. Ich selbst kann das nicht\nbest\u00e4tigen, aber so viel ist wahr, da\u00df ich von keinem einzigen mehr\nh\u00f6rte, nachdem die Pest erloschen war.\nInzwischen war, wie gesagt, der Monat September wohl der\nschrecklichste, den London je erlebt hat. Alle Ziffern, die ich aus\nfr\u00fcheren Pestjahren gesehen habe, wurden bei weitem \u00fcberboten. Das\nw\u00f6chentliche Sterberegister brachte eine Todesrate von fast 40000,\nvom 22. August bis zum 26. September, also f\u00fcr f\u00fcnf Wochen. F\u00fcr die\neinzelnen Wochen sind die Zahlen die folgenden:\nDies ist an und f\u00fcr sich eine unerh\u00f6rte Anzahl, wenn ich aber noch all\ndie Gr\u00fcnde anf\u00fchrte, die es mir gewi\u00df machen, da\u00df und um wieviel sie\nzu niedrig gegriffen ist, w\u00fcrde man zweifellos meine Ansicht teilen,\nda\u00df w\u00e4hrend dieser ganzen Zeit jede Woche, eine wie die andere, mehr\nals 10000 starben. Die Verwirrung unter dem Volke, besonders in der\ninneren Stadt, war damals unbeschreiblich. Ein solches Entsetzen hatte\nsich schlie\u00dflich der Bev\u00f6lkerung bem\u00e4chtigt, da\u00df selbst jene, die\nbeauftragt waren, die Leichen wegzuschaffen, den Mut verloren. Viele\nvon ihnen starben, obwohl sie die Seuche schon einmal durchgemacht\nhatten und davongekommen waren. Andere st\u00fcrzten tot zu Boden, nachdem\nsie die Leichen schon bis an den Rand der Grube gebracht hatten und\neben im Begriffe waren, sie hineinzuwerfen. In der inneren Stadt war\ndie Verwirrung deshalb am gr\u00f6\u00dften, weil die Leute sich dort eingebildet\nhatten, die Seuche w\u00fcrde sie verschonen und die Bitterkeit des Todes\nihnen erspart bleiben. Ein Leichenkarren, der Shoreditch hinauffuhr,\nwurde von den Fuhrleuten im Stiche gelassen. Oder vielmehr: es blieb\nnur ein Mann bei dem Karren, der auf der Stra\u00dfe starb. Die Pferde aber\ngingen weiter, warfen den Karren um, so da\u00df die Leichen durcheinander\nherauskollerten. Einen andern Leichenkarren fand man in dem gro\u00dfen\nMassengrab in den Finsburyfields. Der Treiber war wohl gestorben oder\nfortgegangen, und als die Pferde zu nahe an die Grube kamen, fiel der\nKarren hinein und zog die Pferde mit nach. Es wurde behauptet, da\u00df der\nTreiber auch mit hineinfiel und vom Karren erdr\u00fcckt wurde, weil seine\nPeitsche mitten aus den Leichen herausstand, aber Gewi\u00dfheit war dar\u00fcber\nnicht zu erlangen.\nIn unserm Kirchspiel von Aldgate fand man oftmals die Leichenkarren\nvoll ihrer schauerlichen Last vor dem Tor des Kirchhofs, aber weder\nTreiber noch sonst jemand dabei. Fast nie wu\u00dfte irgendwer, welche\nLeichen auf dem Karren lagen, denn zuweilen wurden sie mit Seilen\naus den Fenstern oder von den Balkonen herabgelassen, oder Tr\u00e4ger\noder andere Leute brachten sie zu dem Karren. \u00dcbrigens sagten die\nLeichentr\u00e4ger selbst, da\u00df sie sich um die Anzahl nicht k\u00fcmmerten.\nDie Umsicht der Beh\u00f6rden war nun bis zum \u00e4u\u00dfersten angespannt, was\nniemals gen\u00fcgend anerkannt werden kann. Wie \u00fcberb\u00fcrdet sie auch sonst\nsein mochten, zwei Dinge wurden doch niemals weder in der eigentlichen\nStadt noch in den Vorst\u00e4dten vernachl\u00e4ssigt.\n1. Lebensmittel waren immer reichlich vorhanden, und das zu einem\nPreise, der kaum nennenswert den \u00fcblichen \u00fcbertraf.\n2. Nirgends gab es unbeerdigte und unbedeckte Leichen, man mochte von\neinem Ende der Stadt zum andern wandern, und w\u00e4hrend des Tages war auch\nnichts von Begr\u00e4bnissen zu sehen, vielleicht die ersten drei Wochen des\nSeptember ausgenommen, was ich schon erw\u00e4hnt habe.\nDies letztere wird m\u00f6glicherweise wenig Gl\u00e4ubige finden, nachdem in\nandern Berichten, die seitdem ver\u00f6ffentlicht wurden, zu lesen stand,\nda\u00df die Leichen unbeerdigt herumlagen, was ich f\u00fcr g\u00e4nzlich unrichtig\nhalte. Wenn es wirklich der Fall war, so doch nur in H\u00e4usern, wo die\nLebenden die Leichen verlassen hatten und Mittel gefunden hatten, zu\nentfliehen, ohne eine Anzeige zu erstatten. Alles in allem will das\ngar nichts bedeuten. Ich kann aus Erfahrung reden, nachdem ich selbst\nein wenig mit diesem Teil des Ordnungswesens in unserm Kirchspiel zu\ntun hatte, wo, im Vergleich zur Dichte der Bev\u00f6lkerung, die Ver\u00f6dung\nebenso gro\u00df war wie irgendwo anders. Und ich bin ganz sicher, da\u00df\nkeine Leichen unbeerdigt blieben, wenigstens keine, von der die\nAufsichtsbeamten erfuhren, und jedenfalls keine aus Mangel an Leuten,\num sie wegzuschaffen oder Totengr\u00e4bern, um sie in die Grube zu werfen\nund mit Erde zuzudecken. Mehr will ich auch gar nicht behaupten, denn\nwas in Winkeln und L\u00f6chern herumlag, wie in der Moses- und Aaron-Gasse,\nz\u00e4hlt nicht, da auch dort alle Leichen beerdigt wurden, sobald man sie\nnur aufgefunden hatte.\nWas nun meine erste Behauptung betrifft, n\u00e4mlich in Hinsicht auf die\nLebensmittel, so habe ich davon schon gesprochen und werde noch mehr\ndavon sprechen, mu\u00df aber doch f\u00fcr jetzt folgendes erw\u00e4hnen:\n1. Der Brotpreis insbesondere wurde nicht erh\u00f6ht. Am Anfang des Jahres,\nd. h. in der ersten M\u00e4rzwoche, war das Pennyweizenbrot 10\u00bd Unzen\nschwer. Als die Seuche auf ihrem H\u00f6hepunkt war, wog es 9\u00bd Unzen, und\nteurer wurde es niemals w\u00e4hrend der ganzen Zeit. Anfang November\nverkaufte man es schon wieder zum alten Gewicht, und ich glaube nicht,\nda\u00df etwas derartiges w\u00e4hrend einer solchen Ungl\u00fcckszeit jemals irgendwo\nanders erh\u00f6rt wurde.\n2. Noch war, was mich selbst nicht wenig wundernahm, irgendein Mangel\nan B\u00e4ckern und Back\u00f6fen, um die Bev\u00f6lkerung mit Brot zu versehen. Doch\nwurde von einigen behauptet, da\u00df ihre Dienstm\u00e4dchen, die sie mit dem\nTeig zu den Back\u00f6fen geschickt hatten, wie es damals der Brauch war,\nkrank, d. h. mit der Pest zur\u00fcckkehrten.\nW\u00e4hrend der ganzen Seuchenzeit standen nur zwei Pesth\u00e4user in\nBenutzung, das eine au\u00dferhalb der Old-Stra\u00dfe, das andere in\nWestminster. Aber niemand wurde gezwungen, die Kranken dahin zu\nschaffen. Es war auch kein Grund zum Zwang vorhanden, da Tausende von\narmen Leuten, die weder Hilfe noch irgendeine Bequemlichkeit hatten,\nund auch an Mitteln nur das, was ihnen die Mildt\u00e4tigkeit zukommen lie\u00df,\n\u00fcbergl\u00fccklich gewesen w\u00e4ren, h\u00e4tte man sie ins Pesthaus gebracht,\nwo man sich ihrer annahm. Und hier liegt der einzige Mangel in der\nBehandlung der \u00f6ffentlichen Angelegenheiten, da\u00df n\u00e4mlich niemand, der\nkein Geld hatte oder nicht Sicherheit stellen konnte, ins Pesthaus\ngebracht oder dort behandelt werden durfte. Viele wurden dort wieder\ngesund, denn man hatte sehr gute \u00c4rzte dort zum Dienst bestimmt,\nwovon ich sp\u00e4ter noch reden werde. Die meisten, die hingeschickt\nwurden, waren Dienstboten, die sich die Seuche holten, wenn sie f\u00fcr\nihre Familien Besorgungen machen mu\u00dften. Kamen sie dann angesteckt\nnach Hause, so lie\u00df man sie fortschaffen, um den Rest der Familie vor\nAnsteckung zu sch\u00fctzen. Sie hatten es w\u00e4hrend der ganzen Ungl\u00fcckszeit\nso gut dort, da\u00df in dem einen Pesthaus nur 156 starben, und 159 in dem\nandern, dem von Westminster.\nDie Beh\u00f6rden lie\u00dfen es niemals daran fehlen, das Volk zu ermutigen,\npraktische Verf\u00fcgungen herauszugeben, auf den Stra\u00dfen gute Ordnung zu\nhalten und allen Klassen der Bev\u00f6lkerung die Schwere ihres Daseins nach\nM\u00f6glichkeit zu erleichtern.\nIn erster Linie fa\u00dften der Lordmayor, die Scherifs, das Ratskollegium\nund eine bestimmte Anzahl der Gemeindebevollm\u00e4chtigten sowie ihre\nVertreter den Beschlu\u00df, der sofort ver\u00f6ffentlicht wurde, die Stadt\nnicht zu verlassen, sondern sich best\u00e4ndig bereit zu halten, \u00fcberall\nnach dem Rechten zu sehen und bei allen Gelegenheiten nach Billigkeit\nzu entscheiden. Sie gelobten, die Mittel, die durch die \u00f6ffentliche\nMildt\u00e4tigkeit aufgebracht w\u00fcrden, nach Gerechtigkeit zu verteilen,\nkurz, das Vertrauen, das von der B\u00fcrgerschaft in sie gesetzt wurde, bis\nzum \u00e4u\u00dfersten ihrer Kraft zu rechtfertigen.\nIn \u00dcbereinstimmung mit diesem Beschlusse hielten sie fast t\u00e4glich\nSitzungen ab, um die f\u00fcr das \u00f6ffentliche Wohl gerade n\u00f6tigen\nVerf\u00fcgungen zu treffen, und obwohl sie gegen das Volk die gr\u00f6\u00dfte\nNachsicht aus\u00fcbten, gingen sie gegen alle vermessenen Burschen, als\nDiebe, Einbrecher, Leichenr\u00e4uber und dergleichen mit Strenge vor,\nbestraften sie entsprechend und sparten nicht mit Bekanntmachungen, die\ngegen sie gerichtet waren.\nAuch alle Polizeibediensteten und Kirchspielbeamten wurden bei\nschwerer Strafe verpflichtet, in der Stadt zu bleiben, oder geeignete\nStellvertreter zu besorgen, die von den h\u00f6heren Distriktsbeamten\nbest\u00e4tigt werden mu\u00dften und f\u00fcr die sie Sicherheit zu stellen hatten.\nAuch f\u00fcr den Todesfall galt diese Sicherheit und verpflichtete zur\nStellung eines neuen Stellvertreters.\nDurch derartige Verordnungen wurde der Mut der Bev\u00f6lkerung nicht wenig\ngest\u00e4rkt, besonders am Anfange der Seuche, als im ersten Schrecken\njeder nur an Flucht dachte. Damals war die Stadt in Gefahr, g\u00e4nzlich\nverlassen zu werden, bis auf die Armen, was sicher eine allgemeine\nPl\u00fcnderung durch den P\u00f6bel im Gefolge gehabt h\u00e4tte. Auch blieben\ndie Beh\u00f6rden nicht hinter dem zur\u00fcck, was sie durchzuf\u00fchren gelobt\nhatten. Der Lordmayor und die Scherifs waren best\u00e4ndig auf der Stra\u00dfe\num dort, wo die Gefahr am gr\u00f6\u00dften war, zu sehen, und wenn schon sie\nden Volksansammlungen aus dem Wege gingen, hatte doch in dringenden\nF\u00e4llen jedermann Zutritt zu ihnen. Alle Klagen und Beschwerden wurden\nmit Geduld von ihnen angeh\u00f6rt. Der Lordmayor lie\u00df zu diesem Zwecke in\nseiner Empfangshalle eine kleine Trib\u00fcne errichten, wo er von der Menge\nein wenig abgesondert, sich aufhielt, wenn Beschwerden vorgebracht\nwurden, um wenigstens in einiger Sicherheit zu sein.\nAuch die zu seinem Amtsbereich geh\u00f6renden Beamten wechselten in\nbestimmtem Turnus, und wenn einer von ihnen krank oder von der\nAnsteckung ergriffen wurde, trat sofort ein anderer an seine Stelle,\nbis sich herausstellte, ob jener am Leben bleiben w\u00fcrde.\nEbenso hielten es die Ratsherren und Scherifs in ihren verschiedenen\nAmtsbezirken. Ihre Unterorgane waren angewiesen, den Dienst der\nReihenfolge nach zu versehen, so da\u00df der Lauf der Gerechtigkeit niemals\nunterbrochen zu werden brauchte. Zu ihren besonderen Obliegenheiten\ngeh\u00f6rte es, danach zu sehen, da\u00df die Marktstatuten jederzeit beobachtet\nw\u00fcrden. An jedem Markttage war der Lordmayor oder einer oder beide\nScherifs zu Pferde anwesend, um \u00fcber die Aufrechterhaltung ihrer\nVerordnungen zu wachen und daf\u00fcr zu sorgen, da\u00df die vom Lande Kommenden\nin keiner Weise, auch nicht bei ihrer R\u00fcckkehr bel\u00e4stigt w\u00fcrden.\nFerner, da\u00df nichts auf der Stra\u00dfe zu sehen war, das sie entsetzen\nund vom Wiederkommen abhalten k\u00f6nnte. Auch die B\u00e4cker standen unter\nbesonderen Verordnungen. Das Haupt der B\u00e4ckerinnung wurde mit seinen\nHilfskr\u00e4ften verpflichtet, die vom Lordmayor erlassenen Verf\u00fcgungen\nin Vollzug zu setzen und sich um das richtige Gewicht des Brotes, das\nw\u00f6chentlich vom Lordmayor bestimmt wurde, zu k\u00fcmmern. Alle B\u00e4cker waren\nverpflichtet, ihre \u00d6fen best\u00e4ndig in T\u00e4tigkeit zu halten, bei Strafe,\nsonst die Vorrechte eines Meisters in der Stadt London zu verlieren.\nDurch solche Mittel wurde erreicht, da\u00df es stets gen\u00fcgend Brot gab, und\nzwar, wie ich schon erw\u00e4hnt habe, zu dem \u00fcblichen billigen Preise. Auch\nmangelte es niemals an Vorr\u00e4ten von Lebensmitteln auf den M\u00e4rkten.\nEs gab so viel davon, da\u00df ich oftmals dar\u00fcber erstaunt war und mir\nVorw\u00fcrfe machte \u00fcber meine Zaghaftigkeit und Vorsicht beim Ausgehen,\nw\u00e4hrend doch das Landvolk ohne Bedenklichkeit auf den Markt kam, als ob\nes gar keine Ansteckung und Gefahr von der Seuche g\u00e4be.\nEs war, wie gesagt, eine bewunderungsw\u00fcrdige Ma\u00dfregel von seiten der\nBeh\u00f6rden, da\u00df die Stra\u00dfen immer rein und frei von allen ekelhaften\nGegenst\u00e4nden gehalten wurden, wie von Leichen oder irgend etwas, das\nWiderwillen h\u00e4tte hervorrufen k\u00f6nnen. St\u00fcrzte jemand pl\u00f6tzlich zu\nBoden oder starb auf der Stra\u00dfe, so wurde die Leiche meistens mit\neinem Tuch oder einem Leintuch zugedeckt oder bis zur Nachtzeit in\nden n\u00e4chsten Kirchhof verbracht. Alles, was, wenn auch unumg\u00e4nglich\nn\u00f6tig, doch gef\u00e4hrlich und mit peinlichen Anblicken verkn\u00fcpft war,\nwurde in die Nacht verlegt. Der Transport der Kranken, die Beerdigung\nder Toten, das Verbrennen der verseuchten Kleider wurde bei Nacht\nvorgenommen. Die Leichen, die in den gro\u00dfen Massengr\u00e4bern auf den\nKirchh\u00f6fen eingescharrt wurden, holte man nur bei Nacht zusammen, und\nehe der Tag anbrach, waren sie alle mit Erde bedeckt und alles wieder\nin Ordnung gebracht. So da\u00df unter Tage nichts von dem allgemeinen\nUngl\u00fcck zu sehen oder zu h\u00f6ren war, au\u00dfer was die Ver\u00f6dung der Stra\u00dfen,\ndas Klagegeschrei der Leute hinter den Fenstern und die vielen\ngeschlossenen H\u00e4user und L\u00e4den von selbst erz\u00e4hlten.\nIn der innern Stadt war diese Ver\u00f6dung der Stra\u00dfen nicht so stark wie\nin den Vorst\u00e4dten, als die Seuche sich nach Osten zu ausdehnte und \u00fcber\ndie ganze Stadt verbreitete. Es war wirklich eine barmherzige F\u00fcgung\nGottes, da\u00df die Seuche zuerst an einem Ende der Stadt ausbrach und nur\nallm\u00e4hlich auf die andern Stadtteile \u00fcbergriff. Nach Osten kam sie\nerst, nachdem sich ihre Heftigkeit im Westen ersch\u00f6pft hatte, und so\nnahm sie gleichzeitig zu und ab.\nIch m\u00f6chte um Erlaubnis bitten, wenn man mir auch Wiederholungen\nvorwerfen wird, noch einmal mich der Schilderung der j\u00e4mmerlichen\nLage der innern Stadt und jener ihrer Teile, wo ich wohnte, in jener\nUngl\u00fcckszeit zuwenden zu d\u00fcrfen. Die City und die andern Stadtteile\nwaren noch immer, trotz der ungeheuren Anzahl der Gefl\u00fcchteten,\ngestopft voll von Leuten. Besonders auch deshalb, weil der allgemeine\nGlaube war, die Seuche w\u00fcrde weder die City, noch die Orte auf dem\njenseitigen Flu\u00dfufer, wie Southwark, Wapping und Ratcliffe, erreichen.\nSo fest war dieser Glaube, da\u00df viele aus den westlichen und n\u00f6rdlichen\nVorst\u00e4dten nach Osten und S\u00fcden ihrer Sicherheit wegen verzogen und,\nwie ich bestimmt glaube, dadurch die Seuche fr\u00fcher dahin brachten, als\nsie im nat\u00fcrlichen Verlauf der Dinge gekommen w\u00e4re.\nHier m\u00f6chte ich auch einiges zum Nutzen der Nachwelt bemerken, was\ndie Art und Weise der gegenseitigen Ansteckung betrifft, n\u00e4mlich, da\u00df\nes nicht nur die Kranken waren, von denen die Gesunden den Keim der\nAnsteckung empfingen, sondern ebensogut die Gesunden. Um mich n\u00e4her zu\nerkl\u00e4ren: unter den Kranken verstehe ich jene, die als krank bekannt\nwaren, im Bett lagen, gepflegt wurden, Geschw\u00fcre an ihrem Leibe hatten\nusw. Vor ihnen konnte sich jedermann in acht nehmen, da sie entweder im\nBett lagen oder doch auch sonst ihren Zustand nicht zu verheimlichen\nvermochten.\nMit den Gesunden aber meine ich solche, die wirklich angesteckt waren\nund das Gift in sich aufgenommen hatten. Es war in ihrem Blut, aber in\nihrem Aussehen zeigte sich davon nichts. Ja, sie wu\u00dften selber nichts\ndavon, oft mehrere Tage lang. Diese verbreiteten den Tod \u00fcberall hin,\nwohin sie auch kamen. Wer in ihre N\u00e4he kam, war verloren. Aus ihren\nKleidern ging die Ansteckung hervor, und was ihre H\u00e4nde ber\u00fchrten, war\nverseucht, besonders, wenn sie warme und feuchte H\u00e4nde hatten, was im\nallgemeinen der Fall war.\nNun war es unm\u00f6glich, diese Leute zu erkennen, nachdem sie ja selbst\noft nicht wu\u00dften, da\u00df sie angesteckt waren. Sie geh\u00f6rten zu jenen, die\npl\u00f6tzlich auf der Stra\u00dfe ohnm\u00e4chtig wurden und hinst\u00fcrzten. Oftmals\ngingen sie bis zu ihrem letzten Augenblick auf den Stra\u00dfen umher. Mit\neinem Male fingen sie dann zu schwitzen an, es wurde ihnen schwach,\nsie setzten sich an einer T\u00fcre hin und starben. Erkannten sie so ihren\nZustand, so boten sie meistens noch alle Kr\u00e4fte auf, ihr Heim zu\nerreichen, und manchmal gelang es ihnen auch gerade noch, um dort zu\nsterben. Andere wanderten umher, bis die Merkmale der Seuche sich schon\nam K\u00f6rper zeigten, ohne da\u00df sie es bemerkten. Drau\u00dfen f\u00fchlten sie sich\nnoch ganz wohl, sobald sie aber dann nach Hause kamen, legten sie sich\nhin und starben innerhalb weniger Stunden. Dies waren die gef\u00e4hrlichen\nLeute, vor denen die wirklich Gesunden sich h\u00e4tten in acht nehmen\nm\u00fcssen, wenn es nur m\u00f6glich gewesen w\u00e4re, sie herauszukennen.\nViele hatten keine Ahnung, da\u00df sie bereits die Seuche im Leibe trugen,\nbis zu ihrer unaussprechlichen Best\u00fcrzung die Merkmale sich am K\u00f6rper\nzeigten, worauf sie selten l\u00e4nger als noch sechs Stunden zu leben\nhatten. Denn die Flecken, die man als \u00bbMerkmale\u00ab bezeichnete, waren\nBrandflecken oder absterbendes Fleisch, in kleinen Kn\u00f6tchen von der\nGr\u00f6\u00dfe eines Silberpennys und hart wie ein St\u00fcck Horn. War es einmal\nmit der Krankheit so weit gekommen, so war der Tod unausbleiblich. Und\ntrotzdem wu\u00dften solche Leute nichts davon, da\u00df sie verseucht waren\nund f\u00fchlten sich auch nicht im geringsten unwohl, bis jene t\u00f6dlichen\nAnzeichen herauskamen. Dabei mu\u00df man aber zugeben, da\u00df sie schon fr\u00fcher\nim h\u00f6chsten Grade verseucht waren, vielleicht schon l\u00e4ngere Zeit, und\nda\u00df daher ihr Atem, ihr Schwei\u00df, und ihre Kleider schon w\u00e4hrend dieser\nganzen Zeit die Ansteckung verbreiteten.\nEs gab eine ungeheuere Verschiedenheit der Krankheitsf\u00e4lle, an die sich\nein Arzt nat\u00fcrlich viel leichter erinnern k\u00f6nnte als ich, aber einige,\ndie ich selbst beobachtet, oder von denen ich geh\u00f6rt habe, will ich\ndoch in folgendem anf\u00fchren.\nEin gewisser B\u00fcrgersmann, der wohl und gesund bis zum September gelebt\nhatte, als die Seuche sich erst in der innern Stadt auszubreiten\nbegann, war sehr zuversichtlich, ja f\u00fcr meinen Geschmack fast etwas zu\nvermessen in seinen Redensarten: wie sicher er sei, wie vorsichtig er\ngewesen w\u00e4re und da\u00df er niemals sich in die N\u00e4he eines Kranken gewagt\nh\u00e4tte. Ein anderer B\u00fcrger, ein Nachbar, sagte eines Tages zu ihm:\n\u00bbSeid nicht zu vertrauensselig. Es ist schwer zu sagen, wer gesund\nund wer krank ist, denn wir sehen Leute, die jetzt dem Anschein nach\nv\u00f6llig gesund aussehen und in einer Stunde tot sind.\u00ab -- \u00bbGewi\u00df\u00ab, sagte\nder erste, der nicht etwa \u00fcberm\u00fctig war, aber die ganze Zeit \u00fcber\nverschont geblieben war und zu den Leuten in der City geh\u00f6rte, die\ndeshalb ein wenig zu zuversichtlich geworden waren. \u00bbGewi\u00df, ich glaube\nja auch nicht, da\u00df ich sicher bin, aber ich hoffe, da\u00df ich nie mit\njemand verkehrte, bei dem irgendeine Gefahr der Ansteckung vorgelegen\nh\u00e4tte.\u00ab -- \u00bbSo,\u00ab meinte der Nachbar, \u00bbseid Ihr denn nicht vorgestern\nim Wirtshaus zum Stierkopf in der Gracekirch-Stra\u00dfe mit dem so und\nso zusammengewesen?\u00ab -- \u00bbJawohl,\u00ab antwortete der erste, \u00bbaber sonst\nwar kein Mensch dort, den wir vern\u00fcnftigerweise f\u00fcr gef\u00e4hrlich h\u00e4tten\nhalten k\u00f6nnen.\u00ab Darauf schwieg der andere, um ihn nicht in Best\u00fcrzung\nzu versetzen, aber gerade das machte jenen noch neugieriger, und je\nzur\u00fcckhaltender der eine wurde, um so mehr dr\u00e4ngte der andere in ihn,\nbis er endlich laut fragte: \u00bbNun, er wird doch nicht gestorben sein?\u00ab\nSein Nachbar entgegnete kein Wort, blickte aber nach oben und murmelte\netwas zu sich selbst, worauf der erste bleich wurde und nichts sonst\nherausbrachte als: \u00bbDann bin ich auch schon so gut als gestorben.\u00ab Er\nging sofort nach Hause und schickte nach einem Apotheker, der in der\nN\u00e4he wohnte, um sich irgendein Gegenmittel geben zu lassen, denn bisher\nhatte er sich noch ganz wohl befunden. Der Apotheker \u00f6ffnete seine\nKleider, schaute die Brust an, seufzte tief auf und sagte nur: \u00bbWendet\nEuch an Gott\u00ab, und der Mann starb innerhalb weniger Stunden.\nDie Pest ist wie eine gro\u00dfe Feuersbrunst. Bricht sie dort aus, wo nur\nwenige H\u00e4user zusammenh\u00e4ngen, kann sie nur diese vernichten; bricht sie\nin einem einzelstehenden Hause aus, so f\u00e4llt ihr nur dieses zum Opfer.\nEntsteht sie aber in einer gro\u00dfen volkreichen Stadt und wird nicht\ngleich gel\u00f6scht, so verheert sie den ganzen Ort und alles, was sie\nerreichen kann.\nGewi\u00df, Hunderte, ja Tausende von Familien fl\u00fcchteten sich vor der Pest,\naber viele flohen zu sp\u00e4t und gingen auf der Flucht zugrunde. Und nicht\nnur das, sie verschleppten auch die Seuche \u00fcberallhin, wohin sie kamen\nund steckten die an, bei denen sie Sicherheit und Zuflucht gesucht\nhatten. Dadurch wurde die beste Ma\u00dfregel, um der Seuche zu entgehen,\nzu einem Mittel sie zu verbreiten. Dies bringt mich auf das zur\u00fcck,\nwas ich schon angedeutet habe, von dem ich aber nun ausf\u00fchrlicher\nsprechen m\u00f6chte. Dar\u00fcber n\u00e4mlich, da\u00df viele Leute nach au\u00dfen hin v\u00f6llig\nwohl umhergingen, w\u00e4hrend sie schon tagelang das Gift der Seuche im\nLeibe trugen und ihr Blut so sehr verseucht war, da\u00df sie nicht mehr zu\nretten waren. W\u00e4hrend dieser ganzen Zeit waren sie f\u00fcr andere h\u00f6chst\ngef\u00e4hrlich, und die Tatsachen haben das bewiesen. Denn solche Leute\nsteckten die Orte an, wohin sie kamen und die Leute, mit denen sie\numgingen. So geschah es, da\u00df fast alle gr\u00f6\u00dferen St\u00e4dte Englands mehr\noder weniger verseucht wurden, und immer wieder kam\u2019s heraus, da\u00df es\ndurch den oder jenen Londoner verursacht worden war.\nIch mu\u00df hier ausdr\u00fccklich erkl\u00e4ren, da\u00df ich annehme, diese Leute, die\nden andern so gef\u00e4hrlich wurden, seien selbst ohne jede Kenntnis von\nihrem eigenen Zustande gewesen. W\u00e4re es anders, so h\u00e4tte man jene\n\u00fcberlegte M\u00f6rder hei\u00dfen m\u00fcssen, die sich mit vollem Bewu\u00dftsein der\nUmst\u00e4nde unter die Gesunden mengten. Aber nichtsdestoweniger hie\u00df es,\nwenn ich auch selbst es nicht f\u00fcr richtig halte, da\u00df die Angesteckten\ngegen die Weiterverbreitung der Seuche g\u00e4nzlich gleichg\u00fcltig, ja eher\ndaf\u00fcr als dagegen waren. Daraus mag jenes Ger\u00fccht entstanden sein, von\ndem ich nur hoffen kann, da\u00df es nicht den Tatsachen entsprach.\nFreilich besitzt ein einzelner Fall keine Allgemeing\u00fcltigkeit, aber\nich k\u00f6nnte doch die Namen einiger Leute nennen, die auch anderw\u00e4rts\nbekannt und deren Familien noch am Leben sind, die das genaue\nGegenteil bezeugen. So wurde ein Mann in meiner Nachbarschaft krank.\nEr vermutete, von einem armen Arbeiter angesteckt worden zu sein,\nden er bei sich besch\u00e4ftigt hatte oder in dessen Wohnung er gekommen\nwar. Schon damals hatte er eine tr\u00fcbe Ahnung, aber erst am n\u00e4chsten\nTage kam die Krankheit wirklich zum Ausbruch, und er f\u00fchlte sich\ngleich recht schlecht. Auf dies hin veranla\u00dfte er sofort, da\u00df er in\nein Hinterhaus auf seinem Grundst\u00fcck gebracht w\u00fcrde, wo sich \u00fcber der\nRotgie\u00dfereiwerkstatt eine Kammer befand. Hier lag er, und hier starb er\nund lie\u00df sich von niemand pflegen als einer fremden Pflegerin. Seiner\nFrau, den Kindern und Dienstboten verwehrte er aufs strengste den\nEintritt, um sie nicht der Ansteckung auszusetzen, und \u00fcbersandte ihnen\nnur seinen Segen und W\u00fcnsche f\u00fcr ihre Erhaltung durch die Pflegerin,\ndie aber auch nicht in ihre N\u00e4he kommen durfte. Und all das nur, um sie\nvor der Seuche zu bewahren.\nEs mu\u00df erw\u00e4hnt werden, da\u00df die Pest, wie wohl alle Krankheiten,\nje nach der Beschaffenheit des K\u00f6rpers, ganz verschieden wirkte.\nManche wurden sofort von ihr v\u00f6llig \u00fcberw\u00e4ltigt; es kam zu schweren\nFieberanf\u00e4llen, Erbrechen, unertr\u00e4glichen Kopf- und R\u00fcckenschmerzen,\nbis zu Tobsuchtsanf\u00e4llen. Bei andern brachen Geschw\u00fclste im Genick, in\nder Leistengegend oder unter den Armen aus, die, wenn sie nicht zum\nReifwerden gebracht werden konnten, eine furchtbare Qual verursachten.\nDie Dritten endlich wurden unmerklich angesteckt, das Fieber w\u00fctete in\nihnen, ohne da\u00df sie darum wu\u00dften, bis sie schlie\u00dflich das Bewu\u00dftsein\nverloren und schmerzlos dahingingen.\nIch bin nicht Arzt genug, um die Einzelheiten dieser verschiedenen\nWirkungen einer und derselben Seuche schildern oder erkl\u00e4ren zu\nk\u00f6nnen, noch halte ich das f\u00fcr meine Aufgabe, da sie von den \u00c4rzten\nviel besser ausgef\u00fchrt wurde, wenn unsere Meinungen auch in einigen\nPunkten auseinandergehen. Darum habe ich auch nur berichtet, was\nich selbst gesehen und beobachtet oder geh\u00f6rt habe und was in den\nverschiedenen F\u00e4llen, die ich erw\u00e4hnte, in Erscheinung trat. Nur das\nmag noch angef\u00fchrt werden, da\u00df die schlimmsten F\u00e4lle, was die Schmerzen\nund die Schwere der Krankheitserscheinungen betrifft, oft zur Heilung\ngelangten, besonders wenn die Geschw\u00fclste aufbrachen, da\u00df aber in jenen\nF\u00e4llen von einer kaum merklichen Erkrankung der Tod unvermeidlich war.\nDie Krankheit und Weiteransteckung, ohne da\u00df die betreffenden Personen\ndas geringste davon wu\u00dften, zeigte sich in zwei Arten von F\u00e4llen, die\nin jener Zeit ziemlich h\u00e4ufig und in London allgemein bekannt waren.\n1. V\u00e4ter und M\u00fctter gingen umher, als ob sie v\u00f6llig wohl w\u00e4ren, waren\nauch davon \u00fcberzeugt, bis sie ihre ganzen Familien verseucht hatten und\ndie Ursache ihres Unterganges geworden waren. H\u00e4tten sie die leiseste\nAhnung ihres Zustandes besessen, so w\u00fcrden sie nimmermehr so gehandelt\nhaben. Eine Familie, von der ich h\u00f6rte, wurde auf solche Weise vom\nVater angesteckt. Einige Mitglieder wurden krank, noch ehe er selbst\nvon der Seuche etwas merkte. Als er aber durch genauere Beobachtungen\nherausbrachte, da\u00df er das Gift zu den Seinen gebracht hatte, wurde er\nwahnsinnig und h\u00e4tte Hand an sich gelegt, wenn man ihn nicht verhindert\nhaben w\u00fcrde. In wenigen Tagen war er tot.\n2. In anderen F\u00e4llen f\u00fchlten die von der Seuche auf diese Weise\nBetroffenen nur ganz leichte Beschwerden, etwa eine Verminderung des\nAppetits, oder ein wenig Magenweh oder auch Hei\u00dfhunger und leichte\nKopfschmerzen, worauf sie zum Arzte schickten, um irgendein Mittel zu\nbegehren und dann aufs t\u00f6dlichste erschrocken waren, als sie h\u00f6rten,\nda\u00df sie auf der Schwelle des Todes standen und rettungslos verloren\nwaren.\nEs ist schauerlich, dar\u00fcber nachzudenken, da\u00df solche Menschen als\nM\u00f6rder vielleicht wochenlang umhergingen, diejenigen zugrunde\nrichteten, die sie unter Gefahr ihres Lebens gerettet haben w\u00fcrden und\nvielleicht durch eine z\u00e4rtliche Liebkosung dem Tode \u00fcberlieferten.\nUnd doch kam das oft vor, und ich k\u00f6nnte zahlreiche derartige F\u00e4lle\nanf\u00fchren. Wenn nun der Schlag so aus dem Hinterhalte herabsaust, wenn\nder Pfeil ungesehen und unentdeckbar von der Sehne fliegt, was haben\ndann alle Ma\u00dfregeln von H\u00e4userabsperren und Fortschaffen der Kranken\nf\u00fcr einen Zweck? Dort ja, wo die Ansteckung offen zutage tritt, aber\nin den tausenden von F\u00e4llen, wo es sich um anscheinend v\u00f6llig Gesunde\nhandelt, sind sie g\u00e4nzlich nutzlos.\nDies setzte nat\u00fcrlich auch unsere \u00c4rzte in Verwirrung, und besonders\ndie Apotheker und Wund\u00e4rzte, die die Kranken nicht von den Gesunden\nzu unterscheiden wu\u00dften. Aber alle gaben die Tatsachen zu, da\u00df viele\nLeute die Seuche im Blut hatten und eigentlich nichts anderes als\nherumwandelnde verpestete Gerippe vorstellten, deren Atem Tod, deren\nSchwei\u00df Gift war, und die doch eben so aussahen wie andere Menschen,\nund selbst nichts von ihrem f\u00fcrchterlichen Zustande ahnten. Die\nTatsache also wurde von allen zugegeben, aber keiner wu\u00dfte ein Mittel\ndagegen.\nMein Freund, der Dr. Heath, war der Meinung, da\u00df es an dem Geruch des\nAtems zu erkennen w\u00e4re, aber wer h\u00e4tte sich dem aussetzen m\u00f6gen, die\nWahrheit aus dem Atem eines Menschen zu holen, um sie mit dem eigenen\nTod zu erkaufen. Denn um den Geruch zu unterscheiden, h\u00e4tte er das\nGift des Atems in das eigene Gehirn einziehen m\u00fcssen. Andere sollen\nbehauptet haben, da\u00df man den Verd\u00e4chtigen auf ein St\u00fcck Spiegelglas\nhauchen lassen m\u00fcsse. W\u00e4re er verseucht, so w\u00fcrde der Niederschlag des\nHauches, durch ein Mikroskop gesehen, die Form von lebenden Gesch\u00f6pfen\ngr\u00e4ulichster und scheu\u00dflichster Art, als Drachen, Schlangen, Vipern und\nteufelsartigen Gebilden, annehmen. Aber das halte ich doch f\u00fcr recht\nzweifelhaft; auch besa\u00dfen wir damals noch keine Mikroskope, um den\nVersuch anzustellen.\nDie Ansicht eines andern sehr gelehrten Mannes war, da\u00df der Hauch solch\neines Kranken einen kleinen Vogel im Nu vergiften und t\u00f6ten w\u00fcrde, und\nnicht nur einen kleinen Vogel, sondern sogar ein Huhn oder einen Hahn,\noder wenn nicht gleich t\u00f6ten, ihn doch r\u00e4udig machen m\u00fc\u00dfte. Besonders\nmerkw\u00fcrdig w\u00e4re, da\u00df zu dieser Zeit gelegte Eier alle verfault w\u00e4ren.\nIch habe aber nie geh\u00f6rt, da\u00df diese Behauptungen durch einen Versuch\nbewahrheitet wurden. So gebe ich sie als das, was sie sind, m\u00f6chte aber\ndoch bemerken, da\u00df ich sie f\u00fcr sehr wahrscheinlich halte.\nManche haben vorgeschlagen, da\u00df solche Leute recht heftig auf warmes\nWasser hauchen sollten, worauf sich ein ungew\u00f6hnlicher Schaum darauf\nbilden w\u00fcrde. Es ginge aber auch bei andern klebrigen Substanzen, die\ngeeignet w\u00e4ren, den Schaum aufzunehmen und festzuhalten.\nAlles in allem mu\u00df ich aber doch sagen, da\u00df diese Art der Ansteckung\njeder M\u00f6glichkeit der Entdeckung spottete, und da\u00df keine menschliche\nGeschicklichkeit imstande war, die Weiterverbreitung zu verhindern.\nZu jener Zeit war die Aufregung gro\u00df, als man erkannte, da\u00df die\nAnsteckung in dieser Art verbreitet, durch anscheinend v\u00f6llig Gesunde\nverbreitet werden k\u00f6nne, und man fing an, jeden, der in die N\u00e4he kam,\nmit \u00e4u\u00dferstem Mi\u00dftrauen und gr\u00f6\u00dfter Unbehaglichkeit zu betrachten.\nEinmal, ich glaube an einem Sonntage in der Aldgate-Kirche, glaubte\nirgendeine Frau in einer vollbesetzten Kirchenbank einen schlechten\nGeruch zu versp\u00fcren. Sofort bildete sie sich ein, die Pest w\u00e4re in der\nBank, gab fl\u00fcsternd ihren Verdacht der N\u00e4chsten weiter und verlie\u00df\nschnell ihren Platz. Die Nachbarin machte es geradeso, und in einem\nAugenblick hatten s\u00e4mtliche Insassen von zwei oder drei Kirchenb\u00e4nken\ndie Kirche verlassen, ohne da\u00df irgend jemand wu\u00dfte weswegen oder von\nwem der \u00fcble Geruch ausgegangen w\u00e4re.\nInfolgedessen fiel man darauf, irgend etwas in den Mund zu stecken,\nwas von alten Weibern oder auch \u00c4rzten empfohlen wurde, um die\nAnsteckung durch den Atem von Kranken unm\u00f6glich zu machen. Dies ging\nso weit, da\u00df besonders in den Kirchen man gleich beim Eingange von\neiner Wolke aller m\u00f6glichen Ger\u00fcche empfangen wurde, die viel st\u00e4rker,\nwenn auch wahrscheinlich nicht so bek\u00f6mmlich waren, als die Ger\u00fcche\nin Apothekerl\u00e4den oder bei Drogisten. Die ganze Kirche war eine gro\u00dfe\nRiechflasche. In der einen Ecke roch es nach Parf\u00fcms, in der andern\nnach aromatischen Essenzen, balsamischen D\u00fcften und allen m\u00f6glichen\nKr\u00e4utern, in der dritten nach Riechsalz und scharfen Wassern, da jeder\nsich mit etwas anderem zum Schutze versehen hatte. Nachdem aber einmal\nder Glaube allgemein geworden war, da\u00df die Ansteckung von scheinbar\nGesunden \u00fcbertragen werden k\u00f6nne, wurde der Kirchenbesuch erheblich\nschw\u00e4cher. Aber ganz geschlossen wurden die Kirchen und Bets\u00e4le\nw\u00e4hrend der ganzen Zeit der Seuche in London niemals, au\u00dfer in einigen\nKirchspielen, wo die Seuche gerade besonders arg w\u00fctete, und auch da\nwurden sie, sowie es einigerma\u00dfen besser wurde, wieder ge\u00f6ffnet.\nIm Gegenteil war nichts erhebender, als zu sehen, mit welchem Mute\ndie Bev\u00f6lkerung die \u00f6ffentlichen Gottesdienste besuchte, sogar zu\neiner Zeit, als man sich f\u00fcrchtete, zu irgendeinem andern Zwecke das\nHaus zu verlassen. Da\u00df die Kirchen bis auf eine kurze Zeit w\u00e4hrend\ndes H\u00f6hepunktes der Seuche immer voll waren, war auch ein Beweis f\u00fcr\ndie au\u00dferordentliche Bev\u00f6lkerungsdichtigkeit beim Ausbruch der Pest,\ntrotz der ungeheuren Menge, die gleich damals sich aufs Land hinaus\ngefl\u00fcchtet hatte und den Massen, die sp\u00e4ter von ihrem sinnlosen\nEntsetzen in die W\u00e4lder hinausgetrieben wurden.\nMan mu\u00df anerkennen, da\u00df die Leute, die alle jene Vorsichtsma\u00dfregeln\nanwandten, von denen ich gesprochen habe, der Ansteckung weniger\nausgesetzt waren. In solchen H\u00e4usern brach die Seuche nicht mit der\ngleichen Heftigkeit aus, und ganze Familien wurden auf solche Weise\ngerettet, womit die schuldige Ehrfurcht vor der g\u00f6ttlichen Vorsehung\nnat\u00fcrlich nicht verletzt werden soll.\nAber es war unm\u00f6glich, irgend etwas Vern\u00fcnftiges in die K\u00f6pfe der\n_armen_ Leute hineinzubringen. Wurden sie krank, so konnten sie sich\nmit Geschrei und Gejammer nicht genug tun, doch solange sie gesund\nwaren, blieben sie gleichg\u00fcltig, sorglos und eigensinnig. Wo sie Arbeit\nkriegen konnten, fluteten sie hin, wenn auch die Besch\u00e4ftigung noch\nso gef\u00e4hrlich und der Ansteckung ausgesetzt sein mochte. Machte man\nihnen Vorw\u00fcrfe, so war die gew\u00f6hnliche Antwort: \u00bbDas mu\u00df man Gott\n\u00fcberlassen. Hat\u2019s mich, so ist wenigstens f\u00fcr mich gesorgt, und die\nganze Geschichte hat ein Ende.\u00ab Oder sie sagten: \u00bbWas soll ich sonst\ntun? Schlimmer als Verhungern ist die Pest auch nicht. Arbeit habe\nich nicht, also was machen? Sonst bleibt mir nichts \u00fcbrig als zu\nbetteln.\u00ab Ob es sich darum handelte, die Leichen einzuscharren oder\nKranke zu pflegen oder verseuchte H\u00e4user zu bewachen, ihre Antwort\nwar immer dieselbe. Sicher war die Not eine gute Entschuldigung, aber\nsie redeten nicht anders, wenn auch keine Not vorlag. Erst durch\nsolche Handlungsweise der Armen kam es, da\u00df die Seuche unter ihnen\nauf so schreckliche Weise w\u00fctete. Zusammen mit ihrer ohnehin wenig\nerfreulichen Lage war es der Hauptgrund ihres Massensterbens. Ich kann\nnicht behaupten, da\u00df sie nach meinen Beobachtungen besser haushielten,\nals sie noch alle gesund waren und Geld verdienten. Das flog heraus,\nund das \u00bbMorgen\u00ab scherte sie auch nicht einen Deut. So kam es, da\u00df sie\nim Falle der Krankheit gleich in das \u00e4u\u00dferste Elend gerieten, ebenso\nder Krankheit wegen als aus Mangel.\nAllerdings hing dies auch zusammen mit der Lage unseres Handels w\u00e4hrend\njener Zeit des allgemeinen Ungl\u00fccks, und zwar sowohl des Au\u00dfen- wie des\nBinnenhandels.\nWas den Au\u00dfenhandel betrifft, braucht nur wenig gesagt zu werden.\nDie europ\u00e4ischen Handelsv\u00f6lker hatten alle Angst vor uns. Kein Hafen\nin Frankreich, Holland, Spanien oder Italien lie\u00df unsere Schiffe\neinfahren. Und zudem hatten wir mit den Holl\u00e4ndern einen heftigen\nKrieg, obwohl wir dazu kaum in der Lage waren, nachdem wir einen so\nschrecklichen Feind im eigenen Lande zu bek\u00e4mpfen hatten.\nUnsere Kaufleute hatten daher alle nichts zu tun. Ihren Schiffen\nwar jeder ausw\u00e4rtige Platz verschlossen, und von ihren Waren und\nFabrikaten, die im Lande hergestellt wurden, wollte man ausw\u00e4rts\nnirgends etwas wissen. Vor den Waren hatte man dieselbe Angst wie vor\nuns selber, und mit gutem Grund. Denn unsere Wollwaren hielten die\nAnsteckung fest wie menschliche K\u00f6rper. Wurden sie von kranken Leuten\nverpackt, so waren sie ebenso gef\u00e4hrlich als die Kranken selber. Wenn\ndaher ein englisches Schiff in einem fremden Hafen l\u00f6schte, mu\u00dften die\nBallen immer ge\u00f6ffnet und auf dazu bestimmten Pl\u00e4tzen gel\u00fcftet werden.\nAus London durfte \u00fcberhaupt kein Schiff in den Hafen, um wieviel\nweniger erst die Waren, die es an Bord hatte.\nEbenso war es in Spanien und Portugal. Es ging ein Ger\u00fccht um, da\u00df eine\nLadung von englischem Tuch, Baumwollwaren, Kirseizeug und dergleichen,\ndie heimlich an Land gebracht worden war, von den Spaniern verbrannt\nwurde, w\u00e4hrend sie die an dem Schmuggel beteiligten Leute mit dem Tode\nbestraften. Ich kann das Ger\u00fccht nicht best\u00e4tigen, glaube aber schon,\nda\u00df es auf Wahrheit beruhte.\nNoch mu\u00df ich \u00fcber den Stand des Binnenhandels w\u00e4hrend dieser\nSchreckenszeit berichten, besonders insofern es sich um die Fabriken\nund die Gesch\u00e4fte in der Stadt handelt. Beim ersten Ausbruch der\nSeuche entstand, wie jeder sich selbst leicht ausmalen kann, unter der\nBev\u00f6lkerung ein allgemeiner Schrecken, und infolgedessen ein v\u00f6lliger\nStillstand im Handelsverkehr, au\u00dfer in Lebensmitteln. Aber auch darin\nwar er durch die Flucht der vielen Tausende, die zahllosen Kranken und\ndas Massensterben bis auf die H\u00e4lfte zur\u00fcckgegangen.\nDurch die Gnade Gottes war das Jahr in Getreide und Obst \u00fcberaus\nfruchtbar gewesen. Nicht so in Heu und Gras. Daher war das Brot\nbillig, weil es Getreide in \u00dcberflu\u00df gab, und Fleisch war billig der\nschlechten Heuernte wegen. Aus demselben Grunde aber waren Butter\nund K\u00e4se teuer, und Heu wurde, gleich au\u00dferhalb der Schlagb\u00e4ume von\nWhitechapel, um 4 Pfund die Ladung verkauft, was allerdings f\u00fcr die\nArmen von keinem Belang war. Daf\u00fcr gab es eine unerh\u00f6rt gute Obsternte.\n\u00c4pfel, Birnen, Pflaumen, Kirschen und Trauben kosteten fast nichts,\naber das hinwiederum veranla\u00dfte die Armen, davon im \u00dcberma\u00df zu essen,\nwodurch sie sich die Ruhr, Darmleiden, Magenbeschwerden und dergleichen\nzuzogen, was oft genug mit der Pest endigte.\nUm aber zum Handel zur\u00fcckzukehren, so war der Export gleich null oder\nwenigstens aufs \u00e4u\u00dferste erschwert, so da\u00df nat\u00fcrlich alle Fabriken\nstill lagen, die f\u00fcr den Export arbeiteten. Und obwohl die ausw\u00e4rtigen\nKaufleute Waren brauchten, konnte doch fast nichts geschickt werden, da\nman englische Schiffe nirgends zulie\u00df. Damit kam der Export so gut wie\nin ganz England zum Stillstand, abgesehen von einigen entlegenen H\u00e4fen,\naber bald auch dort, denn nach und nach kam die Pest \u00fcberall hin. Doch\nnoch weit schlimmer war, da\u00df auch der Binnenhandel aufh\u00f6rte, so weit er\n\u00fcber London ging, denn hier war er g\u00e4nzlich zum Erliegen gekommen.\nAlle Handarbeiter, Kaufleute und Mechaniker waren, wie ich schon\nfr\u00fcher ausgef\u00fchrt habe, arbeitslos, und das griff nat\u00fcrlich auf das\nHeer von Tagel\u00f6hnern u. a. m. \u00fcber, da nichts mehr geschah, was nicht\nabsolut notwendig war. Dadurch waren nun alle Leute, die keinen\neigenen Hausstand hatten, mit einemmal ohne jede Versorgung, ebenso\nwie die Familien, deren Einkommen g\u00e4nzlich von dem Verdienst des\nFamilienoberhauptes abh\u00e4ngig war. Sie gerieten in ein unsagbares Elend,\nund es mu\u00df zur immerw\u00e4hrenden Ehre der Stadt London gesagt werden, da\u00df\ndurch wohlt\u00e4tige Gaben die Bed\u00fcrfnisse so vieler Tausende, von denen\nUnz\u00e4hlige sp\u00e4ter erkrankten, in einer Weise befriedigt wurden, da\u00df\nniemand an Mangel zugrunde ging, wenigstens soweit die Beh\u00f6rden davon\nerfuhren.\nJetzt bleibt mir nur noch \u00fcbrig, etwas \u00fcber den gn\u00e4diger verlaufenen\nTeil dieses schrecklichen Gerichtstages zu sagen. In der letzten Woche\ndes September hatte die Seuche ihren H\u00f6hepunkt erreicht und begann\nvon da an abzunehmen. Ich erinnere mich, da\u00df mein Freund, der Dr.\nHeath, mich in der vorhergehenden Woche besuchte und mir versicherte,\nda\u00df in einigen Tagen die Heftigkeit der Seuche gebrochen w\u00e4re. Als\nich aber in das w\u00f6chentliche Sterberegister blickte, das mit 8297\nToten alle fr\u00fcheren \u00fcbertraf, hielt ich ihm das vor und fragte ihn,\nauf was er denn sein Urteil gr\u00fcndete. Seine Antwort war allerdings\nnicht das, was ich erwartet hatte. \u00bbSeht,\u00ab sagte er, \u00bbnach der Anzahl\nder Erkrankten und Verseuchten h\u00e4tten wir in der letzten Woche 20000\nstatt 8000 Tote haben m\u00fcssen, falls der Verlauf der Krankheitsf\u00e4lle\nebenso ung\u00fcnstig geblieben w\u00e4re wie vor zwei Wochen. Damals starben\ndie Kranken gew\u00f6hnlich nach zwei oder drei Tagen, jetzt nicht vor acht\noder zehn; fr\u00fcher war unter f\u00fcnf F\u00e4llen eine Heilung, jetzt sterben nur\nnoch h\u00f6chstens zwei von f\u00fcnfen. Glaubt mir, die n\u00e4chste Liste wird eine\nAbnahme bringen, und Ihr werdet sehen, da\u00df die Heilungen stark zunehmen\nwerden. Denn obwohl wir \u00fcberall Massen von Verseuchten haben, und auch\neine gro\u00dfe Anzahl noch t\u00e4glich erkrankt, sterben doch nicht mehr so\nviele als fr\u00fcher. Die B\u00f6sartigkeit der Seuche hat nachgelassen, und ich\nhabe jetzt Hoffnung, nein, mehr als das, da\u00df die Krisis vor\u00fcber ist.\u00ab\nUnd wirklich war es auch so, denn in der letzten Septemberwoche zeigte\ndie Liste nur noch 2000 Tote.\nEs ist wahr: noch immer herrschte die Pest mit gro\u00dfer Heftigkeit. Die\nn\u00e4chste Liste brachte 6460 und die weitere noch 5720 Tote. Aber dennoch\nhatte mein Freund mit seiner Behauptung recht; die Leute erholten sich\nschneller und in gr\u00f6\u00dferer Anzahl als fr\u00fcher. Was h\u00e4tte auch sonst aus\nLondon werden sollen? Der Berechnung von Dr. Heath nach waren zu dieser\nZeit nicht weniger als 60000 erkrankt, von denen nur 20477 starben,\nw\u00e4hrend der Rest wieder gesund wurde. Solange die Seuche aber auf\nihrem H\u00f6hepunkte war, waren von einer solchen Anzahl Erkrankter zum\nmindesten 50000 gestorben, vielleicht noch ebenso viele dazu erkrankt,\nund dann h\u00e4tte man wohl wirklich glauben m\u00fcssen, da\u00df kein Mensch mehr\ndavonkommen w\u00fcrde.\nNoch weiter bewahrheiteten sich die Beobachtungen meines Freundes\nw\u00e4hrend der folgenden Wochen. Die Sterbef\u00e4lle gingen best\u00e4ndig zur\u00fcck\nund betrugen in der ersten Oktoberwoche nur noch 1843, in der n\u00e4chsten\n1413, und das, obwohl die Zahl der Erkrankungen nicht ab-, sondern eher\netwas zugenommen hatte. Aber, wie gesagt: die B\u00f6sartigkeit der Seuche\nwar gebrochen.\nUnd so ist nun einmal die Art unserer Bev\u00f6lkerung, wie vermutlich auch\nauf der ganzen \u00fcbrigen Welt: gerade, wie man beim ersten Ausbruch der\nSeuche jeden Verkehr aufgegeben hatte, vor Schrecken und Entsetzen sich\ngegenseitig aufs eifrigste aus dem Wege gegangen war und die Flucht\naus der Stadt ergriffen hatte, ehe es noch n\u00f6tig gewesen w\u00e4re, nahm\nman jetzt, als man sah, da\u00df eine Menge Menschen erkrankte, aber wieder\ngeheilt wurde, die Pest \u00fcberhaupt kaum noch ernst, betrachtete sie\nnicht anders, als w\u00e4re sie ein einfaches Fieber und k\u00fcmmerte sich nicht\nim geringsten mehr um die Gefahr der Ansteckung. Nicht nur, da\u00df die\nLeute ohne Scheu mit solchen verkehrten, die laufende Geschw\u00fcre und\nGeschw\u00fclste an sich hatten, sie a\u00dfen und tranken auch mit ihnen, gingen\nin ihre H\u00e4user und selbst in die Zimmer, wo sie krank lagen.\nF\u00fcr vern\u00fcnftig konnte ich das nicht halten. Mein Freund, der Dr.\nHeath, gab zu, da\u00df die Seuche so ansteckend als nur je w\u00e4re und auch\nnoch viele daran erkrankten, behauptete aber, da\u00df die Sterblichkeit in\nkeinem Verh\u00e4ltnis mehr zu der Zahl der Erkrankungen st\u00e4nde, verglichen\nmit der fr\u00fcheren Todesrate. Ich meine aber, da\u00df doch immer noch eine\nganze Anzahl sterben mu\u00dfte. Und da die Krankheit an sich sehr qualvoll\nwar, von den Geschw\u00fclsten und Geschw\u00fcren gar nicht zu reden, die\nTodesgefahr auch durchaus nicht ausgeschlossen schien, die Heilung\nendlich sehr lange Zeit brauchte, so h\u00e4tte nach meiner Meinung sich\njeder wohl \u00fcberlegen sollen, mit den Erkrankten zusammenzukommen und\ndie Ansteckungsgefahr leichter als fr\u00fcher zu nehmen.\nNoch etwas anderes h\u00e4tte die Leute veranlassen m\u00fcssen, die\nErkrankung an der Pest wie das h\u00f6llische Feuer zu scheuen, das war\ndie schreckliche Wirkung der \u00c4tzmittel, die die Wund\u00e4rzte auf die\nGeschw\u00fclste legten, um sie zum Aufbrechen und Eitern zu bringen, da\nsonst die Gefahr eines t\u00f6dlichen Ausganges bis zum letzten Augenblick\n\u00e4u\u00dferst gro\u00df war. Auch ohnedies waren die Geschw\u00fclste an sich sehr\nqualvoll, und wenn sie die Leute auch nicht mehr wie vordem zum\nWahnsinn brachten, verursachten sie doch kaum ertr\u00e4gliche Schmerzen.\nDiejenigen, die mit dem Leben davonkamen, beklagten sich sp\u00e4ter aufs\nbitterste, da\u00df man ihnen gesagt h\u00e4tte, es w\u00e4re keine Gefahr bei der\nSache und bereuten tief, da\u00df sie sich nicht besser in acht genommen\nhatten.\nSo r\u00e4chte sich die unkluge Handlungsweise der Leute, die alle Vorsicht\nbeiseite lie\u00dfen. Viele wurden geheilt, aber viele starben auch, und\nich bin \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df das Herabgehen der Sterberate dadurch nicht\nunwesentlich verz\u00f6gert wurde. Nach dem ersten starken Abflauen zeigten\ndie beiden n\u00e4chsten Listen keine entsprechende Abnahme, und der\nGrund hierf\u00fcr war sicherlich, da\u00df das Volk alle fr\u00fcher gebrauchten\nVorsichtsma\u00dfregeln vernachl\u00e4ssigte in dem Glauben, es w\u00fcrde niemand\nmehr die Seuche bekommen und wenn, w\u00fcrde es auch nicht gleich ans\nSterben gehen.\nDie \u00c4rzte widersprachen solcher Kopflosigkeit aus allen Kr\u00e4ften.\nSie ver\u00f6ffentlichten gedruckte Anweisungen und verbreiteten sie\n\u00fcber die ganze Stadt und in allen Vorst\u00e4dten, worin sie die Leute\nzur Zur\u00fcckhaltung ermahnten und ihnen rieten, trotz der Abnahme der\nSterbef\u00e4lle die \u00e4u\u00dferste Vorsicht im t\u00e4glichen Leben zu beobachten,\nweil es sonst leicht zu einem neuen Ausbruch kommen k\u00f6nnte, der noch\nweit schrecklicher und verh\u00e4ngnisvoller sein w\u00fcrde als der erste. Zum\nBeweise f\u00fcgten sie eine Menge Erl\u00e4uterungen und Erkl\u00e4rungen an, die\naber an dieser Stelle nicht wiederholt werden k\u00f6nnen.\nAber all das half nichts. Die Leute waren wie besessen von der Freude\n\u00fcber das Herabgehen der Sterblichkeit, da\u00df die neu angedrohten\nSchrecknisse bei ihnen nicht mehr verfingen. Sie lie\u00dfen sich den\nGlauben nicht nehmen, da\u00df es nun mit dem Sterben zu Ende w\u00e4re, und\nwer ihnen das Gegenteil beweisen wollte, h\u00e4tte ebensogut in den Wind\nsprechen k\u00f6nnen. Man \u00f6ffnete wieder die L\u00e4den, spazierte in den Stra\u00dfen\numher, machte Gesch\u00e4fte und sprach jeden an, der gerade in den Weg kam,\nob man mit ihm zu tun hatte oder nicht, und ohne jemals nur nach der\nGesundheit zu fragen oder sich um die Gefahr der Ansteckung zu k\u00fcmmern,\nwenn es sich um einen augenscheinlich Kranken handelte.\nEin gewisser John Cock, ein Barbier, war ein ausgezeichnetes Beispiel\nf\u00fcr die \u00fcberst\u00fcrzte R\u00fcckkehr der Leute, nachdem die Seuche etwas\nnachgelassen hatte. Er hatte seinerzeit mit seiner ganzen Familie die\nStadt verlassen, sein Haus zugesperrt und war, wie so viele andere,\naufs Land verzogen. Als er nun h\u00f6rte, da\u00df im November nur noch 900\nw\u00f6chentlich starben, beeilte er sich, wieder nach Hause zu kommen.\nSein Hausstand bestand aus zehn Personen: seiner Frau, f\u00fcnf Kindern,\nzwei Lehrlingen und einem Dienstm\u00e4dchen, wozu noch er selbst kam. Er\nwar noch nicht eine Woche zu Hause und hatte eben seinen Laden wieder\naufgemacht und sein Gesch\u00e4ft begonnen, als die Seuche bei ihm ausbrach;\nund binnen f\u00fcnf Tagen starb die ganze Familie v\u00f6llig aus, und nur das\nDienstm\u00e4dchen blieb am Leben.\nAber die Gnade Gottes war gr\u00f6\u00dfer, als wir vern\u00fcnftigerweise h\u00e4tten\nhoffen d\u00fcrfen. Die B\u00f6sartigkeit der Seuche war erloschen, das\nAnsteckungsgift hatte sich ersch\u00f6pft, und zudem stand der Winter vor\nder T\u00fcr. Als bei klarer Luft einige scharfe Fr\u00f6ste einsetzten, trat bei\nden meisten Kranken Heilung ein, und die Gesundheit fing an, in die\nStadt zur\u00fcckzukehren. Zwar gab es noch im Dezember einige R\u00fcckf\u00e4lle,\nund die Listen stiegen wieder bis auf hundert Tote an, aber dies war\nnur vor\u00fcbergehend, und in kurzem war alles wieder im alten Gleise. Es\nwar erstaunlich zu beobachten, mit welcher Schnelle sich die Stadt von\nneuem bev\u00f6lkerte. Ein Fremder h\u00e4tte sich nicht vorstellen k\u00f6nnen, da\u00df\nZehntausende zugrunde gegangen waren. Auch die Wohnungen schienen alle\nwieder bezogen. Leere H\u00e4user waren eine Seltenheit, und an Mietern f\u00fcr\nsie war kein Mangel.\nNachdem, im allgemeinen gesprochen, nun wieder alles beim alten\nwar, mu\u00dfte es den Leuten um so seltsamer vorkommen, wenn sie auf\nErkundigungen hin h\u00f6ren mu\u00dften, da\u00df ganze Familien so v\u00f6llig\nausgestorben waren, da\u00df man sich kaum noch an sie erinnern konnte.\nNiemand kam, der auf das, was sie etwa hinterlassen haben mochten,\neinen rechtm\u00e4\u00dfigen Anspruch geltend gemacht h\u00e4tte. Allerdings war in\nden meisten F\u00e4llen solcher Art das, was sich vorgefunden hatte, l\u00e4ngst\nvergeudet und gestohlen worden.\nEs hie\u00df, da\u00df alles herrenlose Gut dem K\u00f6nig als einzigem Erben\nverfallen w\u00e4re. Wie dem auch sein mag, schien es doch, da\u00df der K\u00f6nig\ndarauf zugunsten des Lordmayors und des Ratskollegiums von London\nverzichtete, damit es unter die zahlreichen Armen verteilt w\u00fcrde.\nDenn obwohl die Gelegenheiten zur Erleichterung der Lage der Armen\nw\u00e4hrend der Pestzeit weit vordringlicher gewesen waren als jetzt, da\nalles vor\u00fcber war, ging es ihnen jetzt doch viel schlechter, da alle\nKan\u00e4le der allgemeinen Wohlt\u00e4tigkeit versiegten. Die Leute schienen zu\nglauben, da\u00df sie genug getan h\u00e4tten und hielten sich zur\u00fcck, w\u00e4hrend\ndoch noch manches Elend zu lindern gewesen w\u00e4re.\nIch h\u00e4tte erw\u00e4hnen sollen, da\u00df die Qu\u00e4ker zu jener Zeit einen eigenen\nBegr\u00e4bnisplatz besa\u00dfen, der auch jetzt noch in Gebrauch ist. Sie hatten\nauch einen eigenen Leichenkarren in Benutzung. Und merkw\u00fcrdigerweise\nwar es jener Salomon Eagle, der, wie ich schon erz\u00e4hlt habe, die Pest\nals Gericht Gottes vorhersagte und, nackt in den Stra\u00dfen umherrennend,\ndie Leute zur Bu\u00dfe aufgerufen hatte, der als eines der ersten Opfer in\ndem Leichenkarren auf den neuen Begr\u00e4bnisplatz gefahren wurde.\nRecht ernst waren die Vorw\u00fcrfe, die man den \u00c4rzten machte, weil sie\nw\u00e4hrend der Pest ihre Kranken im Stiche gelassen h\u00e4tten. Als sie\njetzt wieder in der Stadt erschienen, wollte niemand mehr mit ihnen\nzu tun haben. Man nannte sie Deserteure, und h\u00e4ufig wurden Zettel an\nihre T\u00fcren geheftet, auf denen geschrieben war: Hier ist ein Doktor\nzu vermieten! So da\u00df nicht wenige es f\u00fcr besser hielten, sich einige\nZeit nicht zu zeigen oder in eine andere Wohnung zu ziehen, in deren\nUmgebung man sie nicht kannte. Ebenso war es mit der Geistlichkeit, die\nvom Volke in Spottgedichten und dergleichen b\u00f6s mitgenommen wurde. Auf\nden Kirchent\u00fcren fand man oft die Inschrift: Hier ist eine Kanzel zu\nvermieten oder, was fast noch schlimmer war: zu verkaufen.\nBesonders waren es die Dissenters, die der Geistlichkeit der englischen\nKirche vorhielten, da\u00df sie geflohen war, und das Volk dann, als es sie\nam n\u00f6tigsten gebraucht habe, verlassen h\u00e4tte. Aber das l\u00e4\u00dft sich kaum\nbilligen, denn nicht alle Menschen haben die gleiche Zuversicht und den\ngleichen Mut, und die Heilige Schrift befiehlt uns, stets ein mildes\nund g\u00fcnstiges Urteil abzugeben.\nIch versuchte einmal, eine Liste von allen Berufen und Besch\u00e4ftigungen\naufzustellen und jene darin zu verzeichnen, die bei Aus\u00fcbung ihres\nAmtes oder ihrer Gesch\u00e4fte gestorben waren, aber f\u00fcr einen Privaten\nwar es ganz unm\u00f6glich, dabei zu irgendeiner Sicherheit zu gelangen.\nNach meinen Erinnerungen starben 16 Geistliche, 2 Ratsherren, 5 \u00c4rzte,\n13 Wund\u00e4rzte innerhalb der inneren Stadt vor Anfang September. Aber\nda erst dann die Seuche ihren H\u00f6hepunkt erreichte, kann diese Liste\nkaum vollst\u00e4ndig sein. Was das niedere Volk betrifft, so starben 46\nKonstabler und Gemeindevorsteher in den beiden Kirchspielen von Stepney\nund Whitechapel. Leider konnte ich meine Liste nicht fortsetzen, denn\nals im September die ganze Wut der Seuche \u00fcber uns kam, spottete sie\naller Aufzeichnungen. Die Menschen starben nicht mehr als einzelne,\nsondern in Massen und wurden in Massen eingescharrt, ohne sie zu\nz\u00e4hlen, mochten die \u00f6ffentlichen Sterberegister auch 7 oder 8000 oder\nwas immer f\u00fcr eine Zahl anf\u00fchren. Wenn man jenen glauben darf, die\nbessere Gelegenheit hatten als ich, diese Dinge der Wahrheit gem\u00e4\u00df zu\nuntersuchen, so starben zu dieser Zeit w\u00f6chentlich etwa 20000 Menschen.\nIch selbst will mich lieber an die ver\u00f6ffentlichten Zahlen halten, denn\nschon 7 oder 8000 Tote w\u00f6chentlich sind genug, um zu rechtfertigen,\nwas ich von dem Grauen jener Zeit berichtet habe. Es erf\u00fcllt mich mit\nGenugtuung, sagen zu d\u00fcrfen, da\u00df ich in keiner Weise \u00fcbertrieben habe\nund eher noch unter der Wirklichkeit geblieben bin.\nF\u00fcr die Nachwelt sei bezeugt, da\u00df alle b\u00fcrgerlichen Beamten, die\nKonstabler, Gemeindevorsteher, Scherifs und Kirchspielbediensteten,\nin deren Aufgabe es lag, sich der Armen anzunehmen, ihre Pflichten\nim allgemeinen so gut wie nur irgendeiner und vielleicht besser\nerf\u00fcllten. Sie waren den meisten Gefahren ausgesetzt, da ihr Werk\nin den Armenvierteln lag, wo die Ansteckung am leichtesten war.\nFielen sie selbst der Krankheit zum Opfer, so war ihre Lage h\u00f6chst\nbejammerungsw\u00fcrdig. Es ist auch nicht anders m\u00f6glich, als da\u00df eine\ngro\u00dfe Anzahl von ihnen von der Seuche verschlungen wurde.\nIch habe noch kein Wort \u00fcber die Medizinen und Vorbeugungsmittel\ngesagt, die man gew\u00f6hnlich w\u00e4hrend jener Zeit gebrauchte. Wenigstens\nalle jene, die wie ich auf der Stra\u00dfe zu tun hatten. Von den\nQuacksalbern ist viel dar\u00fcber geschrieben worden, aber auch das\n\u00c4rztekollegium ver\u00f6ffentlichte t\u00e4glich Vorbeugungsmittel, von deren\nWirkung es sich \u00fcberzeugt hatte. Da alle diese Dinge gedruckt\nvorliegen, brauche ich sie nicht zu wiederholen.\nEine Geschichte aber m\u00f6chte ich doch noch erz\u00e4hlen. Sie betrifft einen\nQuacksalber, der sich ger\u00fchmt hatte, ein Gegenmittel gegen die Pest\nzu besitzen, das den Tr\u00e4ger vor jeder m\u00f6glichen Ansteckung sch\u00fctze.\nDieser Mann, der doch jedenfalls niemals ausging, ohne etwas von seinem\nun\u00fcbertrefflichen Gegenmittel bei sich zu f\u00fchren, erkrankte an der\nSeuche und starb binnen zwei oder drei Tagen.\nIch geh\u00f6re nicht zu jenen, die einen Widerwillen oder gar Verachtung\ngegen alle Medizinen haben, im Gegenteil habe ich ja schon oft von der\nAchtung gesprochen, die ich f\u00fcr die Vorschriften meines besonderen\nFreundes, Dr. Heath, hatte. Aber ich mu\u00df doch gestehen, da\u00df ich selbst\nnichts gebrauchte, als ein stark riechendes Mittel, f\u00fcr den Fall, da\u00df\nmir irgend etwas Ekelhaftes unterk\u00e4me, oder da\u00df ich in die N\u00e4he einer\nLeiche oder eines Begr\u00e4bnisplatzes gelangte.\nEs herrschte damals ein Streit unter den Gelehrten, der die Leute\nnicht wenig in Verlegenheit brachte, n\u00e4mlich, in welcher Weise\ndie Wohnungen und Sachen, wo die Pest hingekommen war, wieder\ngereinigt werden m\u00f6chten. Besonders auch, was man zu tun h\u00e4tte, um\ndie lange leergestandenen H\u00e4user bewohnbar zu machen. Eine Unmenge\nvon R\u00e4uchermitteln von der oder jener Zusammensetzung wurde von den\n\u00c4rzten angegeben, die die Leute, die sie anwendeten, ein nach meiner\nMeinung unn\u00fctzes Geld kosteten. Die \u00e4rmeren Leute, die ihre Fenster\nTag und Nacht offenstehen lie\u00dfen und in den Zimmern Schwefel, Pech\nund Schie\u00dfpulver verbrannten, hatten mindestens ebensoviel davon. Und\ndiejenigen, von denen ich schon gesprochen habe, die sich auf jede\nGefahr hin beeilten, wieder in die Stadt und nach Hause zu kommen,\ntaten wenig oder gar nichts und fuhren dabei doch nicht schlimmer.\nIm allgemeinen waren es vornehmlich die \u00e4rmeren Klassen, die sich mit\nder R\u00fcckkehr so beeilten, die Reichen folgten viel langsamer. Die\nGesch\u00e4ftsleute kamen wohl schnell, aber sie lie\u00dfen ihre Familien erst\nim Fr\u00fchling nachkommen, als man allen Grund zu dem Glauben hatte, da\u00df\ndie Seuche nicht wieder erscheinen w\u00fcrde.\nDer Hof kehrte bald nach Weihnachten zur\u00fcck, der Adel jedoch, der\nnicht bei Hof angestellt war oder bei der Regierung zu tun hatte,\nfolgte erst sp\u00e4ter.\nMerkw\u00fcrdig war, da\u00df die Pest trotz ihrer Heftigkeit in London und\nanderen Orten nie auf die Flotte \u00fcbergriff. Obwohl sowohl auf dem\nFlusse wie auf der Stra\u00dfe zu jener Zeit stark gepre\u00dft wurde, um Leute\nf\u00fcr den Dienst auf der Flotte zu bekommen. Das war allerdings am Anfang\ndes Jahres, als die Seuche kaum begonnen hatte und noch nicht in jene\nStadtteile gedrungen war, wo haupts\u00e4chlich gepre\u00dft zu werden pflegte.\nDer holl\u00e4ndische Krieg, der damals gef\u00fchrt wurde, war durchaus nicht\nnach dem Geschmack des Volkes, und die Seeleute meldeten sich nur mit\ngro\u00dfem Widerwillen zum Dienst und beklagten sich bitter, wenn sie mit\nGewalt dazu gepre\u00dft wurden, aber f\u00fcr viele war es eine wohlt\u00e4tige\nGewalt. Denn wahrscheinlich w\u00e4ren sie bei dem allgemeinen Ungl\u00fcck,\nder Pest n\u00e4mlich, zugrunde gegangen, w\u00e4hrend sie so nach Ablauf des\nSommerdienstes heil und gesund zur\u00fcckkehren konnten. Freilich fanden\nmanche unter ihnen ihre Familien im Grabe, wor\u00fcber sie mit Recht\nklagen und jammern mochten, aber deshalb konnten sie doch einem\nSchicksal dankbar sein, das sie selbst, wenn auch gegen ihren Willen,\nvom Verderben gerettet hatte. Es war in jenem Jahre ein hei\u00dfer Krieg\nzwischen uns und den Holl\u00e4ndern mit einer sehr gro\u00dfen Schlacht, bei\nder die Holl\u00e4nder den k\u00fcrzeren zogen. Aber auch wir verloren viele\nLeute und einige Schiffe. Die Pest aber kam, wie gesagt, nicht auf die\nFlotte, und als diese zur\u00fcckkam, war auch die Heftigkeit der Pest\ngebrochen.\nIch w\u00e4re sehr froh, wenn ich den Bericht dieses schrecklichen Jahres\nmit einigen Beispielen der Dankbarkeit gegen Gott, unsern Erhalter,\nabschlie\u00dfen k\u00f6nnte, der uns vom Verderben erl\u00f6ste. Die Umst\u00e4nde dieser\nErl\u00f6sung von dem furchtbaren Feinde h\u00e4tten die ganze Nation dazu\nveranlassen m\u00fcssen. Nur die Hand Gottes und seine Allmacht konnten\nsie vollbringen. Die Ansteckung spottete aller Gegenmittel, der Tod\nw\u00fctete bis in die letzten Winkel, noch einige Wochen, und in der\nStadt w\u00e4re keine lebende Seele zur\u00fcckgeblieben. \u00dcberall bem\u00e4chtigte\nsich die Verzweiflung der Menschen, Angst verdr\u00e4ngte den letzten Rest\nvon Mut, und auf allen Gesichtern zeigte sich nur noch die \u00e4u\u00dferste\nHoffnungslosigkeit. Und da, als man wohl sagen konnte: Umsonst ist alle\nmenschliche Hilfe, gefiel es Gott, die Wut der Seuche einzud\u00e4mmen und\nihre B\u00f6sartigkeit zu l\u00e4hmen.\nEs ist unm\u00f6glich, die Ver\u00e4nderung in den Z\u00fcgen der Leute zu\nbeschreiben, als an jenem Donnerstag das w\u00f6chentliche Sterberegister\nerschien. Eine heimliche Freude und Heiterkeit war auf allen Gesichtern\nzu sehen. W\u00e4hrend man fr\u00fcher sich sorgsam auswich, sch\u00fcttelte man sich\njetzt die H\u00e4nde. In den Stra\u00dfen \u00f6ffneten sich die Fenster, und die\nInwohner fragten einander, wie sie sich bef\u00e4nden und ob sie schon die\ngute Neuigkeit w\u00fc\u00dften, da\u00df die Pest nachgelassen habe. Einige taten\nverwundert und meinten: \u00bbWas denn f\u00fcr eine gute Neuigkeit?\u00ab Dann\nriefen die anderen: \u00bbDie Pest h\u00f6rt auf, die Liste ist schon auf fast\n2000 heruntergegangen!\u00ab und nun schrien sie alle miteinander: \u00bbGott sei\nDank!\u00ab und weinten aus Freude und erkl\u00e4rten, sie h\u00e4tten noch nichts\ndavon geh\u00f6rt gehabt. Die Seligkeit der Leute war so gro\u00df, als w\u00e4re\ndas Leben aus dem Grabe zu ihnen zur\u00fcckgekehrt. Ich k\u00f6nnte eine ganze\nReihe der verr\u00fccktesten Dinge anf\u00fchren, die sie im \u00dcberma\u00df ihrer Freude\nvollf\u00fchrten, wie fr\u00fcher im \u00dcberma\u00df ihrer Verzweiflung, aber ich will\u2019s\nlieber unterlassen, um den Wert ihres Gl\u00fcckes nicht herabzusetzen.\nJetzt war\u2019s auf einmal mit allen Bef\u00fcrchtungen zu Ende, und das zu\nfr\u00fch, denn nun machte es uns nichts mehr aus, einem Mann mit einer\nwei\u00dfen Kappe auf dem Kopfe zu begegnen, oder mit einem Tuch um den Hals\ngewickelt oder hinkend wegen der Geschw\u00fclste in der Leistengegend, was\nuns alle noch eine Woche vorher in den \u00e4u\u00dfersten Schrecken versetzt\nhaben w\u00fcrde. Die ganze Stra\u00dfe war jetzt voll dieser armen Gesch\u00f6pfe,\ndie sich ihrer unerwarteten Erl\u00f6sung von ganzem Herzen freuten. Ich\nw\u00fcrde ihnen sehr Unrecht tun, n\u00e4hme ich nicht an, da\u00df viele unter ihnen\naus voller Seele dankbar waren. Bei den meisten mochte es allerdings zu\nRecht hei\u00dfen, was von den Kindern Israels gesagt wurde, als sie nach\nihrem Durchzug durch das Rote Meer die \u00c4gypter im Wasser versinken\nsahen: \u00bbSie lobten Gott, aber bald verga\u00dfen sie seine Werke.\u00ab\nDoch hier will ich Schlu\u00df machen, um nicht tadels\u00fcchtig und vielleicht\nungerecht gescholten zu werden, wenn ich mich in Erw\u00e4gungen einlie\u00dfe,\nwarum die Undankbarkeit und Schlechtigkeit wieder zu uns zur\u00fcckkehrte,\nderen Zeuge ich seitdem oft genug gewesen bin. Daher werde ich\ndie Schilderung dieses unseligen Jahres mit einem schlechten aber\ngutgemeinten Verschen eigener Mache beschlie\u00dfen, das ich an das Ende\nmeiner Tageb\u00fccher setzte in demselben Jahre, in dem sie geschrieben\nwurden.\n    Im Jahre f\u00fcnfundsechzig hat\u2019s\n    Die Pest in London gegeben,\n    An Hunderttausend nahm sie mit,\n    Doch ich, ich blieb am Leben!\nNachwort des \u00dcbersetzers\nEs liegt wohl an der Grausigkeit des Stoffes, da\u00df das \u00bbTagebuch aus\ndem Pestjahr\u00ab (Journal of the Grand Plague of London. -- London 1723),\nabgesehen von einer unauffindbaren \u00dcbersetzung aus dem 18. Jahrhundert,\njetzt wohl zum erstenmal in deutscher Sprache erscheint. Wer es\nmit seinen, bis in die kleinsten und unbedeutendsten Einzelheiten\ngehenden Schilderungen durchgelesen hat, d\u00fcrfte einigerma\u00dfen erstaunt\nsein, zu h\u00f6ren, da\u00df es von einem 61j\u00e4hrigen Manne geschrieben\nwurde, der zurzeit der gro\u00dfen Pest 4 Jahre alt war, und daher aus\neigener Anschauung nichts und vom H\u00f6rensagen kaum allzuviel \u00fcber\njenes Ereignis wissen konnte. Auch mit gr\u00fcndlichen Quellenstudien\nhat Defoe sich sicherlich nicht abgegeben. Das geht einmal aus der\nungemeinen Fl\u00fcchtigkeit bei der Abfassung des Werkes hervor, die in\nzahlreichen Widerspr\u00fcchen und noch viel zahlreicheren oft w\u00f6rtlichen\nWiederholungen (die in der \u00dcbersetzung ein wenig beschnitten wurden)\nzutage tritt, dann aus dem Umstande, da\u00df er im gleichen Jahre, au\u00dfer\neinem religi\u00f6sen Traktat und einer Gelegenheitsschrift, noch eine\nKriminalgeschichte und zwei umfangreiche Romane ver\u00f6ffentlichte. Da\u00df\ntrotzdem in dem \u00bbPestbuche\u00ab ein Werk entstehen konnte, das trotz\nRobinson von vielen f\u00fcr die beste Arbeit Defoes gehalten wird und\nselbst wohlunterrichtete M\u00e4nner der Wissenschaft dazu verf\u00fchrte, in\nihm eine historische Quelle f\u00fcr die damaligen Zust\u00e4nde zu sehen,\nerkl\u00e4rt sich aus der besonderen Natur von Defoes Schaffensweise. Er\nbesa\u00df, neben einer erstaunlichen Fruchtbarkeit, im allerh\u00f6chsten Ma\u00dfe\ndie Gabe, die man \u00bbWirklichkeitsphantasie\u00ab nennen k\u00f6nnte, d. h. die\nF\u00e4higkeit, sich in eine erdichtete und blo\u00df vorgestellte Umwelt ganz\nund gar hineinzuversetzen und so v\u00f6llig in ihr aufzugehen, als ob er\ntats\u00e4chlich darin zu leben und sich ihr anzupassen h\u00e4tte. Da er aber\nin allen m\u00f6glichen T\u00e4tigkeiten sich versucht hatte und als \u00fcberaus\nvielseitiger Journalist auf fast jedem Gebiete der \u00f6ffentlichen\nAngelegenheiten zu Hause war, fand seine Phantasie immer Schranken und\nAnhaltspunkte an den ihm wohlvertrauten Umst\u00e4nden und Verh\u00e4ltnissen\naller Seiten des menschlichen Lebens. Das beh\u00fctete sie davor, ins\nUferlose zu schweifen und gibt den vielleicht phantasievollsten Werken\nder Weltliteratur den Anschein einer fast grausamen N\u00fcchternheit. Darum\nwird die einzigartige Begabung Defoes bei den Lesern nicht immer die\nihr geb\u00fchrende Wertsch\u00e4tzung finden, wer aber gerade das vorliegende\nBuch als bewu\u00dfte Mystifikation mit \u00e4hnlichen Werken der neuesten Zeit\nvergleicht, m\u00f6chte doch vielleicht das Urteil Walter Scotts nicht\nallzu \u00fcbertrieben finden, da\u00df Defoe, w\u00fcrde er auch den Robinson nicht\ngeschrieben haben, f\u00fcr sein \u00bbPesttagebuch\u00ab die Unsterblichkeit verdient\nh\u00e4tte.\nDaniel Defoe: Die Romane\n    In deutschen \u00dcbertragungen herausgegeben\n    von _Joseph Grabisch_. 12\u00b0. Halbleder.\nDenkw\u00fcrdigkeiten eines englischen Edelmannes aus dem gro\u00dfen Kriege.\n1.--3. Tausend. 12\u00b0. 275 Seiten.\nDie gl\u00fccklichen und ungl\u00fccklichen Begebenheiten der vielberufenen Moll\nFlanders.\n1.--3. Tausend. 489 Seiten.\nLeben und Abenteuer des weltbekannten Seer\u00e4ubers Bob Singleton.\n1.--3. Tausend. 425 Seiten.\nOberst Hannes.\nMit der Vorrede des Autors. 1.--3. Tausend. 423 Seiten.\n_Hermann Hesse_ in \u00ab_~Vivos voco~_\u00bb: Der Verlag Georg M\u00fcller, der\nfr\u00fcher schon die Hauptwerke eines der bedeutendsten \u00e4lteren Engl\u00e4nder,\nSternes, in wundersch\u00f6nen deutschen Neuausgaben gebracht hat, legt in\nvier B\u00e4nden vier Hauptwerke Defoes vor, neu in deutschen Ausgaben, die\nJoseph Grabisch besorgt hat. Die sch\u00f6nen B\u00e4nde sind ein Leckerbissen\nf\u00fcr B\u00fccherfreunde, schon \u00e4u\u00dferlich. Defoe, der mit seinem \u00bbRobinson\u00ab\neines der gelesensten und sch\u00f6nsten B\u00fccher der Welt geschrieben hat,\nist ein unglaublich positiver und lebendiger Mensch gewesen. Er stand\nmitten im politischen Leben seiner Zeit, war eine Weile der Vertraute\nWilhelms von Oranien, war Soldat, machte Reisen, kam mehrmals ins\nGef\u00e4ngnis. Viel von seinem vollen, fast \u00fcberf\u00fcllten Leben ist in seine\nRomane geflossen, auch sie sind voll, reich, gespickt mit Erlebnis,\nBildern und Abenteuern. Die sch\u00f6ne neue Ausgabe dieser kuriosen, im\nKern unveralteten B\u00fccher sei begr\u00fc\u00dft.\nGeorg M\u00fcller Verlag \u00b7 M\u00fcnchen\nDer gro\u00dfe englische Roman\nLaurence Sterne: Gesammelte Schriften.\nVier B\u00e4nde. 8\u00b0. Halbleder.\nTristram Schandis Leben und Meynungen.\nNach der \u00dcbertragung von Johann Joachim Bode herausgegeben von Otto\nJulius Bierbaum. Neun Teile in drei B\u00e4nden. 12\u00b0. 3.--4. Tausend. 499,\n464 und 367 Seiten.\nYoricks empfindsame Reise.\n\u00dcbertragen von Johann Joachim Bode. 12\u00b0. 3.--4. Tausend. Zwei B\u00e4nde in\neinem. 153 und 141 Seiten.\nSterne ist ganz genau der Geburtsort des modernen englischen Humors,\nnicht des klassischen Humors des absolutistischen Englands, der in\nShakespeare seine h\u00f6chste H\u00f6he erreicht, sondern des sentimentalen\nHumors des b\u00fcrgerlichen Englands (es ist interessant, da\u00df das deutsche\nWort \u00bbempfindsam\u00ab als Wiedergabe des englischen \u00ab~sentimental~\u00bb\nanl\u00e4\u00dflich der \u00dcbersetzung von Sternes \u00bbEmpfindsamer Reise\u00ab von Johann\nJoachim Bode gepr\u00e4gt und seither deutsches Sprachgut geworden ist.\nEs dr\u00fcckt sich darin aus, da\u00df Sterne der Sch\u00f6pfer eines ganz neuen,\nb\u00fcrgerlichen Gef\u00fchles ist).\n_Hermann Hesse_ schrieb \u00fcber diese Sterne-Ausgabe: Nun kommt also auch\nSterne dazu. Gewi\u00df lag er l\u00e4ngst deutsch vor, aber ich mu\u00df zugeben,\nda\u00df diese alte Bodesche \u00dcbertragung wirklich in Klang und Geist etwas\nKongeniales und Wahlverwandtes mit dem Originale hat, und was den\nNeudruck betrifft, so hat der Verlag Georg M\u00fcller damit ein Prachtst\u00fcck\ngeliefert. F\u00fcr Freunde au\u00dfergew\u00f6hnlich h\u00fcbscher B\u00fccher tut sich hier\nein Lustgarten auf.\nDie Ausgabe wurde in altert\u00fcmlicher Fraktur gedruckt. Als Format wurde\nein zierliches Oktav gew\u00e4hlt. Gebunden wurden die B\u00e4ndchen in Halbfranz\nnach einem Entwurfe von Paul Renner.\nTobias George Smollet: Roderich Random.\nEin Seitenst\u00fcck zum Gil Blas. Nach der W. Ch. S. Myliusschen\n\u00dcbersetzung herausgegeben von Marianne Trebitsch-Stein. Zwei B\u00e4nde.\n12\u00b0. In Halbfranz gebunden.\n_Wiener Allgemeine Zeitung_: Ein neuer Band der von Otto Julius\nBierbaum begr\u00fcndeten B\u00fccher der Abtei Thelem, ein literarischer\nLeckerbissen, ein Buch, das als Zeitdokument interessiert und\nunterh\u00e4lt. Ein Seitenst\u00fcck zum \u00bbGil Blas\u00ab nennt es der Autor, aber\nwo der Franzose nur unterh\u00e4lt und die Kritik hinter l\u00e4chelnder\nWohlgelauntheit verbirgt, gibt Smollet unerbittliche Wahrheit, ehrliche\nEntr\u00fcstung. Neben den weiten M\u00f6glichkeiten, die der Roman Smollets\nsatirischen Absichten bot, lockten ihn die abenteuerlichen Fahrten,\ndie er selbst erlebt hatte, die wechselvollen Geschicke, die ihn in\nallen Weltteilen umhergeschleudert hatten, deren lebendiger Atem das\nWerk so frisch bewegt und es vor dem Veralten bewahrte. Marianne\nTrebitsch-Stein hat mit viel Sorgfalt die Ausgabe vorbereitet und\nin der Einf\u00fchrung eine Geschichte des Smolletschen Romans gegeben,\ndie in ihrer umfassenden Gr\u00fcndlichkeit schon eine kleine englische\nKulturgeschichte jener Zeit ist.\nTobias George Smollet: Peregrine Pickle.\nNach der W. Ch. S. Myliusschen \u00dcbersetzung herausgegeben von Rudolf\nKurtz. Zwei B\u00e4nde. 12\u00b0. In Halbfranz gebunden.\n_Walter Scott_: Es findet sich zwischen \u00bbRoderich Random\u00ab und\n\u00bbPeregrine Pickle\u00ab ein Unterschied, den man oft zwischen dem ersten und\nzweiten Werke eines Verfassers, der mit gl\u00fccklichen Erfolge aufgetreten\nist, finden wird. \u00bbPeregrine Pickle\u00ab ist vollendeter, sorgf\u00e4ltiger\nausgearbeitet; man bewundert darin eine gr\u00f6\u00dfere Verschiedenheit von\nAbenteuern und Charakteren als im \u00bbRoderich Random\u00ab. Allein dieser ist\nmit einer gewissen Ruhe und Nat\u00fcrlichkeit geschrieben, die nicht im\ngleichen Ma\u00dfe im \u00bbPeregrine Pickle\u00ab anzutreffen ist. Wenn aber auch\nSmollet die Einfachheit seines ersten Romanes dem zweiten nicht gegeben\nhat, geben wollte oder konnte, so entsch\u00e4digt doch \u00bbPeregrine Pickle\u00ab,\nohne eine Spur von Abnahme der Kr\u00e4fte des Verfassers zu verraten, durch\neine viel reichere Sammlung von Gestalten und Verh\u00e4ltnissen als sein\nVorg\u00e4nger.\nHenry Fielding: Tom Jones.\nRoman. In der \u00dcbersetzung von J. J. Bode. Herausgegeben und eingeleitet\nvon Johannes von Guenther. Drei B\u00e4nde. 8\u00b0. In Halbfranz gebunden.\nHenry Fieldings \u00bbTom Jones\u00ab, die Geschichte eines Findlings, ist\nder ber\u00fchmteste und wohl auch der beste englische Roman des 18.\nJahrhunderts. Er durfte in den B\u00fcchern der Abtei Thelem nicht fehlen,\nnachdem die Leser mit Smollets Meisterwerken bekannt gemacht wurden.\nDas Krasse und Rohe in Smollets Manier erscheint hier gemildert\nzugunsten einer vers\u00f6hnlicheren Wirkung; das Derb-Komische Smollets\nwurde hier zum Ewig-Heiteren, ohne dabei an komischer Wirkung\neinzub\u00fc\u00dfen. Frisches und wahres Leben bietet dieses ewig junge Buch,\ndas entstanden ist (wie s. Z. der \u00bbDon Quijote\u00ab), um den weinerlichen\nund r\u00fchrseligen Sentimentalisten jener Zeit die wahre und ungenierte\nPoesie einzubleuen. Der reizende Humor des Romans wurde am besten von\nder alten \u00dcbersetzung J. J. Bodes wiedergegeben, die hiermit ihre\nfr\u00f6hliche Auferstehung feiert.\nLord Chesterfields Briefe an seinen Sohn.\nAuf Grund der ersten deutschen, hier verbesserten Ausgabe in Auswahl\nherausgegeben und eingeleitet von Hans Feigl. Mit dem der ersten\nenglischen Ausgabe beigegebenen Portr\u00e4t Chesterfields. Zwei B\u00e4nde. 12\u00b0.\nIn Halbfranz gebunden.\n_O. A. H. Schmitz_ im \u00bbTag\u00ab: Was der \u00bbCortigiano\u00ab f\u00fcr die Renaissance\nist, bedeuten diese Briefe f\u00fcr das 18. Jahrhundert. Will man\ndie Gestalt Lord Chesterfields, die aus seinen Briefen mit der\nw\u00fcnschenswertesten Deutlichkeit in ihren Umrissen hervortritt, richtig\nfassen, so wird man sagen m\u00fcssen: Er hat, wie alle nach Vollkommenheit\nstrebenden Menschen, eine Menge freundlicher menschlicher Dinge\nunterdr\u00fcckt, die dieser Vollkommenheit im Wege gestanden h\u00e4tten, als\nUnbefangenheit, Harmlosigkeit, Naivit\u00e4t und dergleichen. Die von ihm\nerstrebte Vollkommenheit hat er dagegen durchaus erreicht. Er war ein\nMann von gro\u00dfem Wissen und weitreichender Belesenheit, gleichzeitig ein\nt\u00fcchtiger Staatsmann und einer der gl\u00e4nzendsten Vertreter der \u00e4u\u00dferen\nKultur des 18. Jahrhunderts.\nRobert Louis Stevenson: S\u00fcdseenachtgeschichten / Die Schatzinsel.\nZwei B\u00e4nde.\nDie Einb\u00e4nde entwarf Charlotte Christine Engelhorn.\nDie meisten deutschen Leser kennen nur die \u00bbSchatzinsel\u00ab und haben die\nunbestimmte Vorstellung, da\u00df Stevenson ein Jugendschriftsteller war,\ndessen Werke sich erstaunlich lange frisch erhalten haben. W\u00e4re er nur\ndas, so w\u00e4re es schon sehr viel, denn Jugend l\u00e4\u00dft sich dauernd nur\nvon dem ansprechen, was selbst innerlich jung und bilderreich ist. In\nWahrheit beruht die Wirkung Stevensons auf einer gro\u00dfen menschlichen\n\u00dcberlegenheit und einer damit verbundenen naiven Fabulierfreudigkeit,\nwie sie in unserem gehetzten Jahrhundert kaum mehr vorkommt.\nWalter Savage Landor: Erdichtete Gespr\u00e4che.\nDeutsch von E. von Schorn. (Sammlung Lebenskunst Band 8.) 8\u00b0. 404\nSeiten.\n_Der Tag, Berlin_: Diese erdichteten Gespr\u00e4che sind ein ber\u00fchmtes\nBuch der Weltliteratur, das seine erz\u00e4hlenswerten Schicksale gehabt\nhat, bevor und nachdem es weltber\u00fchmt geworden ist. Der Autor\ndieser Gespr\u00e4che, deren Inhalt die ganze Weltgeschichte umfa\u00dft,\nist kein ausgekl\u00fcgelt Buch, sondern ein Mensch mit mehr als einem\nWiderspruch gewesen. Die vorliegende \u00dcbersetzung bringt einige der\nber\u00fchmtesten Gespr\u00e4che, wie das zwischen Alexander dem Gro\u00dfen und dem\nAmmonspriester, Elisabeth und Maria, Katharina II. und der F\u00fcrstin\nDaschkow, Pitt und Canning, die schon eine hinreichende Vorstellung von\ndem reifen Geist und der Kunst Landors geben.\nDie B\u00fccher der Abtei Thelem\nBegr\u00fcndet von Otto Julius Bierbaum.\nJohann Gottwerth M\u00fcller: Siegfried von Lindenberg.\nEine komische Geschichte. Bearbeitet und mit einem Vorwort versehen von\nRichard Elchinger. Mit den Kupfern von Daniel Chodowiecki. 12\u00b0. IX und\n460 Seiten.\nHerrn Johann Gottwerth M\u00fcller darf man sich als einen sehr\nliebensw\u00fcrdigen und gebildeten Menschen vorstellen. Er hat in seinem\nlangen Leben, das 86 Jahre w\u00e4hrte, eine gro\u00dfe Menge Papier beschrieben:\ndas meiste zu Itzehoe, Tobak rauchend und aufs angenehmste umzirkt und\ngesch\u00fctzt vom Palisadenwerk seiner geliebten B\u00fccherbretter. \u00dcberdauert\nhat seinen Namen nur jenes Buch, das einst M\u00fcllers nicht geringen\nRuhm begr\u00fcndet hat: Der komische Roman \u00bbSiegfried von Lindenberg\u00ab.\nNaturburschen von seiner echten Artung sind auch heute noch wie vor 150\nJahren im Leben und in den B\u00fcchern eine seltene Spezies, der man nicht\nallzuoft begegnet.\nDenis Diderot: Jakob und sein Herr.\nUnter Zugrundelegung der Myliusschen \u00dcbersetzung herausgegeben von\nHanns Floerke. 12\u00b0. 515 Seiten.\nDiderot ist von den Schriftstellern der Aufkl\u00e4rungsepoche vielleicht\nder tiefste und gehaltreichste. Dies entspricht auch dem Interesse,\ndas das klassische Weimar, Goethe an der Spitze, an seinen Schriften\nnahm. Goethes mannigfaltige und begeisterte \u00c4u\u00dferungen \u00fcber den\nEindruck Diderotscher Erz\u00e4hlungen, schlie\u00dflich seine eigene wundervolle\n\u00dcbersetzung des Dialogs \u00bbRameaus Neffe\u00ab zeugen davon, welche Sch\u00e4tzung\nsich Diderot bei den Gr\u00f6\u00dften seiner Zeit erfreute.\nLaurence Sterne: Yoricks Predigten.\n\u00dcbertragen von Josef Grabisch. Zwei B\u00e4nde. 12\u00b0. XXII, 505 und 511\nSeiten.\nDie sechsundvierzig Predigten des Vikars von Sutton sind f\u00fcr den, der\nin das Geheimnis der Dreieinigkeit Tristram-Yorick-Sterne eindringen\nwill -- und welcher Bakkalaureus der Lebensweisheit, dem es gelungen\nist, sich in der Shandyluft wohl zu f\u00fchlen, wollte das nicht? --\nunentbehrlich. Sie leuchten aber auch ohne das Licht des Sterneschen\nRuhms und nicht nur f\u00fcr die Verehrer des \u00bbTristram Shandy\u00ab und der\n\u00bbEmpfindsamen Reise\u00ab.\nF. M. Voltaire: Candide.\nNach der anonymen \u00dcbersetzung von 1732, neu herausgegeben von Lothar\nSchmidt. Nebst dem zweiten Teil unbekannter Herkunft und mit 5\nHeliograv\u00fcren nach Kupfern von Chodowiecki. 8\u00b0. XXXI, 218 und 155\nSeiten. (In einem Bande.)\nDen Ruhm Voltaires k\u00f6nnen seine Dramen kaum mehr aufrechterhalten. Sein\nsouver\u00e4ner Geist, sein Witz, seine ganz unvergleichliche Schlagkraft\nkonzentriert sich in seinen satirischen Erz\u00e4hlungen, von welchen\n\u00bbCandide\u00ab alle Vorz\u00fcge vereinigt.\nMarie Madeleine Gr\u00e4fin von La Fayette: Die Prinzessin von Cleve.\nIns Deutsche \u00fcbertragen und herausgegeben von Paul Hansmann. Mit einem\nNachwort. 8\u00b0. 293 Seiten.\n_Aus dem Vorwort_: Man hat diesen ersten psychologischen Roman, der\nin Frankreich geschaffen wurde, eine Herzensbeichte der La Fayette\ngenannt und in der Cleve und ihrem Schicksal eine Verwandtschaft mit\nder Autorin, in Monsieur de Nemours den Herzog de La Rochefoucauld\nsehen wollen. Sei dem wie ihm wolle, zuversichtlich wissen wir, da\u00df nur\neine edle, freim\u00fctige und wahrhafte Frau, die ein gutes Frauenschicksal\nhatte, dieses r\u00fchrende, zarte Werk schreiben konnte, das seinen Platz\nin der Weltliteratur ewig frisch behaupten wird.\nErasmus: Das Lob der Narrheit.\nAus dem Lateinischen nach der Ausgabe von 1781. Neu herausgegeben von\nLothar Schmidt, mit Wiedergaben der meisten Holzschnitte von Hans\nHolbein. 12\u00b0. III und 207 Seiten.\nDas elegant geschriebene Werk verdankt seine \u00e4u\u00dfere Anregung dem\ndeutschen \u00bbNarrenschiff\u00ab des Sebastian Brant, kommt aber geistig aus\nviel fr\u00fcherer Zeit her, n\u00e4mlich aus der freien Sph\u00e4re des Lucian.\nH. J. Dulaurens: Gevatter Matthies oder die Ausschweifungen des\nmenschlichen Geistes.\nNach der ersten deutschen \u00dcbersetzung von 1779 neu bearbeitet und\nherausgegeben von Hanns Floerke. Zwei B\u00e4nde. 12\u00b0. XXII, 408 und 463\nSeiten.\nDer \u00ab~Comp\u00e8re Mathieu~\u00bb erschien zum ersten Male 1766 und hat in knapp\n70 Jahren 25 Auflagen erlebt, obgleich das Buch sicherlich kein Buch\nf\u00fcr die Menge ist. Auch die vorliegende Ausgabe ist nur f\u00fcr diejenigen\nbestimmt, welche Distanz genug besitzen, um nicht jeder Suggestion\nzu erliegen. Wer ihn untergeordneten Geistern in die Hand gibt, der\nvers\u00fcndigt sich an ihnen.\nJoh. Gottfr. Schnabel: Der im Irrgarten der Liebe herumtaumelnde\nCavalier\noder Reise- und Liebesgeschichte eines vornehmen Deutschen von Adel,\nHerrn von St.\nZwei B\u00e4nde. 397 und 368 Seiten.\n_Berliner Tageblatt_: Schnabels herumtaumelnder Kavalier ist ein\nsogenannter \u00bbgalanter Roman\u00ab. Da das Werk heute au\u00dferordentlich\nselten geworden ist, hat sich der Verlag durch diese Ausgrabung\nentschieden ein Verdienst erworben. Schnabels Werk atmet durchweg den\nnaiven italienischen Geist, das Buch ist ganz \u00bbRokoko\u00ab, von einer\nunwiderstehlichen Grazie und Heiterkeit, die uns, ach, so sehr abhanden\ngekommen ist.\nJohann Gottlieb Schummel: Spitzbart.\nEine komitragische Geschichte. Mit einem Vorwort und Anmerkungen von C.\nG. von Maassen. 12\u00b0. XLII und 485 Seiten.\nDieses Werk, in dem der Herausgeber den \u00e4ltesten komischen Schulroman\nwiederentdeckt hat, ist ein lustiges Buch, das nichts von der\nWeitl\u00e4ufigkeit alter Romane an sich hat. 1779 geschrieben, in einer\nZeit, da die p\u00e4dagogischen Reformen der Philanthropen in aller\nWelt von sich reden machten, verspottet es in kecker Satire die\np\u00e4dagogischen Projektenmacher jener Tage. M\u00f6rike sch\u00e4tze das Buch\nbesonders hoch.\nMoritz August von Th\u00fcmmel: Reise in die mitt\u00e4glichen Provinzen von\nFrankreich im Jahre 1785--86.\nMit Kupfern und Vignetten von Pentzel, Schnorr von Carolsfeld und\nRamberg. Herausgegeben von Conrad H\u00f6fer. Einmalige numerierte Ausgabe\nvon 1600 Exemplaren. Drei B\u00e4nde. 12\u00b0. 569, 475 und 399 Seiten.\n_Jahrbuch der Bibliophilen_: Es war naheliegend, Th\u00fcmmels schon\nzu dessen Lebzeiten vielangefeindetem, ebenso auch vielger\u00fchmtem,\nam\u00fcsantem, lebensfrohem Reisewerk ein Pl\u00e4tzchen in der Abtei Thelem zu\ng\u00f6nnen. Es sei hier begr\u00fc\u00dft. Das von Conrad H\u00f6fer angef\u00fcgte Nachwort\nunterrichtet knapp, aber vorz\u00fcglich \u00fcber Wesen und literarhistorische\nWertung dieser Reisebilder.\nMoritz August von Th\u00fcmmel: Wilhelmine.\nHerausgegeben von Conrad H\u00f6fer. Mit 7 Kupfern und 13 Vignetten nach\nFriedrich Oeser, Stock und Geyser. Einmalige numerierte Ausgabe von\n1600 Exemplaren. 12\u00b0. 156 Seiten.\nDie oben unter \u00bbEnglische Romane\u00ab aufgef\u00fchrten Werke von Sterne,\nSmollet, Chesterfield und Henry Fielding erschienen ebenfalls in der\n\u00bbAbtei Thelem\u00ab.\nAls Otto Julius Bierbaum die \u00bbB\u00fccherei der Abtei Thelem\u00ab ins Leben\nrief, entwarf er nicht allein das literarische Programm, sondern er\nnahm sich auch der \u00e4u\u00dferen Gestaltung dieser Bibliothek bis in jede\nEinzelheit an. Die Einb\u00e4nde dieser im Geschmack der Zeit gehaltenen\nzierlichen Duodezb\u00e4ndchen entwarf Paul Renner, s\u00e4mtlich Halbfranzb\u00e4nde\nmit reicher R\u00fcckenvergoldung.\nGeorg M\u00fcller Verlag \u00b7 M\u00fcnchen\nHerros\u00e9 & Ziemsen GmbH. & Co., Wittenberg (Bez. Halle)\n    Weitere Anmerkungen zur Transkription\n    Offensichtliche Fehler wurden stillschweigend korrigiert. Ansonsten\n    wurde die Originalschreibweise beibehalten.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Die Pest zu London\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1711, "culture": " English\n", "content": "CHILDREN BY JOHN LANG ***\n  TOLD TO THE CHILDREN SERIES\n  EDITED BY LOUEY CHISHOLM\n  ROBINSON CRUSOE\n[Illustration: Slowly the raft drifted nearer and nearer the shore (page\n  Daniel Defoe\n  ROBINSON CRUSOE\n  TOLD TO THE CHILDREN BY\n  JOHN LANG\n  WITH PICTURES BY\n  W. B. ROBINSON\n  LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK\n  NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.\n  TO\n  ALEC CORSE SCOTT\nMY DEAR ALEC,\nWhen Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe, nearly two hundred years ago, boys\nhad more time on their hands, fewer books and fewer games than they\nhave now, and they, as well as their fathers, read it and loved it. And\nwhen your father and I were boys--though that is rather less than two\nhundred years ago--we too used often to read it.\nBut boys nowadays do not seem to read Robinson Crusoe as they used to\ndo. It is too long, they think, and there is much in it that they have\nnot time to read. That is why I have written here, in as few words as\npossible, the tale of Robinson\u2019s twenty-eight years in his Island, and\nI hope that you, and other boys, will like it.\nThe sea that lay round Robinson\u2019s island is not like the one you\nknow--the grey North Sea, stormy and cold; but it is blue like a\nsapphire, and where the rollers break in white foam on the coral\nreefs it seems as if it were edged with pearls. On the shores of the\nislands, cocoa-nut palms wave their feathery fronds in the breeze;\nbutterflies of wondrous colours hover about; and in and out amongst the\nthick-leaved trees dash birds, chattering and screaming, all crimson\nand blue and yellow and green.\nOften there are snakes too, and it was lucky that no snakes on\nRobinson\u2019s island troubled him. For on some islands that I have seen\nthere are snakes--black and white, the most poisonous of them--that\nswim about in the sea and come up on the beach, and you have to be\ncareful that you do not sit down on the top of one, for they are not\nalways very quick at getting out of the way.\nWhen you are a man, perhaps some day you will go to one of those\ntropical islands. And if you take a boat and row out to the inside of\nthe reef of coral that lies round the island, and put your face close\ndown, and look through the quiet, crystal clear water, you will know\nwhat Fairyland beneath the sea is like. You will find there gardens\nof a beauty never seen on land, only the branches of the trees are of\ncoral, and in and out amongst them, instead of bright-coloured birds,\nyou will see fishes swimming, some of a vivid yellow and black, others\nblue as the sky. That is where the mermaids used to play, when the\nworld was younger than it is now.\n  Yours affectionately,\n  JOHN LANG.\nCONTENTS\n  I. How Robinson first went to sea, and how he\n  II. Robinson works hard at making himself a\n  III. The earthquake and hurricane; and how\n  IV. Robinson builds a second boat, in which he\n  V. Robinson sees a footprint on the sand, and\n  finds traces of cannibal feasts,                   38\n  VI. Robinson finds a cave; hears guns fired by\n  VII. Robinson visits the wrecked Spanish ship;\n  rescues a prisoner from the cannibals,             59\n  VIII. How Robinson trained Friday,                 73\n  IX. Robinson and Friday build a large boat;\n  they rescue two prisoners from the\n  X. Arrival of an English ship; Robinson sails\nLIST OF PICTURES\n  Slowly the raft drifted nearer and nearer the shore, _Frontispiece_\n  Once Robinson shot a lion that he saw lying asleep,          8\n  One day he came on a large turtle,                          26\n  He saw the mark of a naked foot on the sand,                40\n  The harbour where he had kept his boat so long,             64\n  The man knelt and kissed the ground,                        70\n  Robinson ran to the white prisoner and cut his bonds,       94\n  What could an English ship be doing here?                  102\nCHAPTER I\n                    HOW ROBINSON FIRST WENT TO SEA;\n                      AND HOW HE WAS SHIPWRECKED\nLong, long ago, before even your grandfather\u2019s father was born, there\nlived in the town of York a boy whose name was Robinson Crusoe. Though\nhe never even saw the sea till he was quite a big boy, he had always\nwanted to be a sailor, and to go away in a ship to visit strange,\nforeign, far-off lands; and he thought that if he could only do that,\nhe would be quite happy.\nBut his father wanted him to be a lawyer, and he often talked to\nRobinson, and told him of the terrible things that might happen to him\nif he went away, and how people who stopped at home were always the\nhappiest. He told him, too, how Robinson\u2019s brother had gone away, and\nhad been killed in the wars.\nSo Robinson promised at last that he would give up wanting to be a\nsailor. But in a few days the longing came back as bad as ever, and\nhe asked his mother to try to coax his father to let him go just one\nvoyage. But his mother was very angry, and his father said, \u2018If he goes\nabroad he will be the most miserable wretch that ever was born. I can\ngive no consent to it.\u2019\nRobinson stopped at home for another year, till he was nineteen years\nold, all the time thinking and thinking of the sea. But one day when\nhe had gone on a visit to Hull, a big town by the sea, to say good-bye\nto one of his friends who was going to London, he could not resist the\nchance. Without even sending a message to his father and mother, he\nwent on board his friend\u2019s ship, and sailed away.\nBut as soon as the wind began to blow and the waves to rise, poor\nRobinson was very frightened and sea-sick, and he said to himself that\nif ever he got on shore he would go straight home and never again leave\nit.\nHe was very solemn till the wind stopped blowing. His friend and the\nsailors laughed at him, and called him a fool, and he very soon forgot,\nwhen the weather was fine and the sun shining, all he had thought about\ngoing back to his father and mother.\nBut in a few days, when the ship had sailed as far as Yarmouth Roads\non her way to London, they had to anchor, and wait for a fair wind. In\nthose days there were no steamers, and vessels had only their sails to\nhelp them along; so if it was calm, or the wind blew the wrong way,\nthey had just to wait where they were till a fair wind blew.\nWhilst they lay at Yarmouth the weather became very bad, and there was\na great storm. The sea was so heavy and Robinson\u2019s ship was in such\ndanger, that at last they had to cut away the masts in order to ease\nher and to stop her from rolling so terribly. The Captain fired guns\nto show that his ship wanted help. So a boat from another ship was\nlowered, and came with much difficulty and took off Robinson and all\nthe crew, just before their vessel sank; and they got ashore at last,\nvery wet and miserable, having lost all their clothes except what they\nhad on.\nBut Robinson had some money in his pocket, and he went on to London by\nland, thinking that if he returned home now, people would laugh at him.\nIn London he made friends with a ship\u2019s captain, who had not long\nbefore come home from a voyage to the Guinea Coast, as that part of\nAfrica was then called; and the Captain was so pleased with the money\nhe had made there, that he easily persuaded Robinson to go with him on\nhis next voyage.\nSo Robinson took with him toys, and beads, and other things, to sell to\nthe natives in Africa, and he got there, in exchange for these things,\nso much gold dust that he thought he was soon going in that way to make\nhis fortune.\nAnd therefore he went on a second voyage.\nBut this time he was not so lucky, for before they reached the African\nCoast, one morning, very early, they sighted another ship, which they\nwere sure was a Pirate. So fast did this other vessel sail, that before\nnight she had come up to Robinson\u2019s ship, which did not carry nearly so\nmany men nor so many guns as the Pirate, and which therefore did not\nwant to fight; and the pirates soon took prisoner Robinson and all the\ncrew of his ship who were not killed, and made slaves of them.\nThe Pirate captain took Robinson as his own slave, and made him dig\nin his garden and work in his house. Sometimes, too, he made him look\nafter his ship when she was in port, but he never took him away on a\nvoyage.\nFor two years Robinson lived like this, very unhappy, and always\nthinking how he might escape.\nAt last, when the Captain happened one time to be at home longer than\nusual, he began to go out fishing in a boat two or three times a week,\ntaking Robinson, who was a very good fisher, and a black boy named\nXury, with him.\nOne day he gave Robinson orders to put food and water, and some guns,\nand powder and shot, on a big boat that the pirates had taken out of an\nEnglish ship, and to be ready to go with him and some of his friends on\na fishing trip.\nBut at the last moment the Captain\u2019s friends could not come, and so\nRobinson was told to go out in the boat with one of the Captain\u2019s\nservants who was not a slave, and with Xury, to catch fish for supper.\nThen Robinson thought that his chance to escape had come.\nHe spoke to the servant, who was not very clever, and persuaded him to\nput more food and water on the boat, for, said Robinson, \u2018we must not\ntake what was meant for our master.\u2019 And then he got the servant to\nbring some more powder and shot, because, Robinson said, they might as\nwell kill some birds to eat.\nWhen they had gone out about a mile, they hauled down the sail and\nbegan to fish. But Robinson pretended that he could not catch anything\nthere, and he said that they ought to go further out. When they had\ngone so far that nobody on shore could see what they were doing,\nRobinson again pretended to fish. But this time he watched his chance,\nand when the servant was not looking, came behind him and threw him\noverboard, knowing that the man could swim so well that he could easily\nreach the land.\nThen Robinson sailed away with Xury down the coast to the south. He did\nnot know to what country he was steering, but cared only to get away\nfrom the pirates, and to be free once more.\nLong days and nights they sailed, sometimes running in close to the\nland, but they were afraid to go ashore very often, because of the wild\nbeasts and the natives. Many times they saw great lions come roaring\ndown on to the beach, and once Robinson shot one that he saw lying\nasleep, and took its skin to make a bed for himself on the boat.\nAt last, after some weeks, when they had got south as far as the great\ncape that is called Cape de Verde, they saw a Portuguese vessel, which\ntook them on board. It was not easy for Robinson to tell who he was,\nbecause he could not talk Portuguese, but everybody was very kind to\nhim, and they bought his boat and his guns and everything that he had.\nThey even bought poor Xury, who, of course, was a black slave, and\ncould be sold just like a horse or a dog.\nSo, when they got to Brazil, where the vessel was bound, Robinson had\nenough money to buy a plantation; and he grew sugar and tobacco there\nfor four years, and was very happy and contented for a time, and made\nmoney.\n[Illustration: Once Robinson shot a lion that he saw lying asleep]\nBut he could never be contented for very long. So when some of his\nneighbours asked him if he would go in a ship to the Guinea Coast to\nget slaves for them, he went, only making a bargain that he was to\nbe paid for his trouble, and to get some of the slaves to work on his\nplantation when he came back.\nTwelve days after the ship sailed, a terrible storm blew, and they were\ndriven far from where they wanted to go. Great, angry, foaming seas\nbroke over the deck, sweeping everything off that could be moved, and\na man and a boy were carried overboard and drowned. No one on the ship\nexpected to be saved.\nThis storm was followed by another, even worse. The wind howled and\nroared through the rigging, and the weather was thick with rain and\nflying spray.\nThen early one morning land was dimly seen through the driving rain,\nbut almost at once the vessel struck on a sand-bank. In an instant the\nsails were blown to bits, and flapped with such uproar that no one\ncould hear the Captain\u2019s orders. Waves poured over the decks, and the\nvessel bumped on the sand so terribly that the masts broke off near\nthe deck, and fell over the side into the sea.\nWith great difficulty the only boat left on the ship was put in the\nwater, and everybody got into her. They rowed for the shore, hoping to\nget perhaps into some bay, or to the mouth of a river, where the sea\nwould be quiet.\nBut before they could reach the land, a huge grey wave, big like the\nside of a house, came foaming and thundering up behind them, and before\nany one could even cry out, it upset the boat, and they were all left\nstruggling in the water.\nRobinson was a very good swimmer, but no man could swim in such a sea,\nand it was only good fortune that brought him at last safely to land.\nBig wave after big wave washed him further and further up the beach,\nrolling him over and over, once leaving him helpless, and more than\nhalf-drowned, beside a rock.\nBut before the next wave could come up, perhaps to drag him back with\nit into the sea, he was able to jump up and run for his life.\nAnd so he got safely out of the reach of the water, and lay down upon\nthe grass. But of all on board the ship, Robinson was the only one who\nwas not drowned.\nCHAPTER II\n                     ROBINSON WORKS HARD AT MAKING\nWhen he had rested a little, Robinson got up and began to walk about\nvery sadly, for darkness was coming on; he was wet, and cold, and\nhungry, and he did not know where to sleep, because he was afraid of\nwild beasts coming out of the woods and killing him during the night.\nBut he found that he still had his knife in his pocket, so he cut a big\nstick to protect himself with. Then he climbed into a tree which had\nvery thick leaves, and there he fixed himself among the branches as\nwell as he could, and fell sound asleep.\nIn the morning when he awoke, the storm was past, and the sea quieter.\nTo his surprise, he saw that the ship had been carried in the night,\nby the great seas, much nearer to the shore than she had been when the\nboat left her, and was now lying not far from the rock where Robinson\nhad first been washed up.\nBy midday the sea was quite calm, and the tide had gone so far out that\nhe could walk very near to the ship. So he took off his clothes and\nswam the rest of the way to her. But it was not easy to get on board,\nbecause the ship was resting on the sand, and lay so high out of the\nwater that Robinson could not reach anything by which he could pull\nhimself up.\nAt last, after swimming twice round the vessel, he saw a rope hanging\nover, near the bow, and by its help he climbed on board.\nEverything in the stern of the ship was dry, and in pretty good order,\nand the water had not hurt the provisions much. So he took some\nbiscuits, and ate them as he looked about, and drank some rum, and then\nhe felt better, and stronger, and more fit to begin work.\nFirst of all, he took a few large spars of wood, and a spare topmast or\ntwo, that were on the deck. These he pushed overboard, tying each with\na rope to keep it from drifting away. Then he went over the side of the\nship, and tied all the spars together so as to make a raft, and on top\nhe put pieces of plank across. But it was long before he could make the\nraft fit to carry the things he wanted to take on shore.\nAt last, after much hard work, he got on to it three of the seamen\u2019s\nchests, which he had broken open and emptied, and he filled these with\nbread, and rice, and cheese, and whatever he could find to eat, and\nwith all sorts of things that he thought he might need. He found, too,\nthe carpenter\u2019s tool chest, and put it on the raft; and nothing on the\nwhole ship was of more use to him than that.\nThen he set about looking for clothes, for while he had been on the\nship, the tide had risen and had washed away his coat and waistcoat\nand shirt, which he had left lying on the sand.\nGuns and pistols also, and powder and shot, he took, and two old rusty\ncutlasses.\nNow the trouble was to reach land, for the raft had no mast nor sail\nnor rudder, and was too heavy and clumsy to be pulled by Robinson with\nthe broken oars that he had found. But the tide was rising, and slowly\nshe drifted nearer and nearer, and at last was carried up the mouth of\na little river which Robinson had not seen when he was on shore.\nThere was a strong tide running up, which once carried the raft against\na point of land, where she stuck for a time, and very nearly upset all\nthe things into deep water. But as the tide rose higher, Robinson was\nable to push her into a little bay where the water was shallow and the\nground beneath flat, and when the tide went out there she was left high\nand dry, and he got everything safely ashore.\nThe next thing that Robinson did was to climb a hill, that he might\nsee what sort of country he was in, and find out if there were any\nother people in it. But when he got to the top, he saw to his sorrow\nthat he was on an island, with no other land in sight except some\nrocks, and two smaller islands far over the sea. There were no signs of\nany people, and he saw nothing living except great numbers of birds,\none of which he shot. But it was not fit to eat, being some kind of\nhawk.\nAfter this, with the chests and boards that he had brought on shore, he\nmade a kind of hut to sleep in that night, and he lay there on the sand\nvery comfortably.\nDay by day now for some time Robinson swam out to the ship, and made\nfresh rafts, loading them with many stores, powder and shot, and lead\nfor bullets, seven muskets, a great barrel of bread, three casks of\nrum, a quantity of flour, some grain, a box of sugar, sails and ropes\nand twine, bags of nails, and many hatchets. With one of the sails he\nmade himself a good tent, in which he put everything that could be\nspoiled by rain or sun. Around it he piled all the casks and other\nheavy things, so that no wild beast could very easily get at him.\nIn about a fortnight the weather changed; it blew very hard one night,\nand in the morning the ship had broken up, and was no more to be seen.\nBut that did not so much matter, for Robinson had got out of her nearly\neverything that he could use.\nNow, Robinson thought it time to find some better place for his tent.\nThe land where it then stood was low and near the sea, and the only\nwater he could get to drink tasted rather salt. Looking about, he found\na little plain, about a hundred yards across, on the side of a hill,\nand at the end of the plain was a great rock partly hollowed out, but\nnot so as quite to make a cave. Here he pitched his tent, close to the\nhollow place in the rock. Round in front of the tent he drove two rows\nof strong stakes, about eighteen inches apart, sharpened at top; and he\nmade this fence so strong that when it was finished he was sure that\nnothing could get at him, for he left no door, but climbed in and out\nby a ladder, which he always hauled up after him.\nBefore closing up the end, Robinson hauled inside this fence all his\nstores, his food and his guns, his powder and shot, and he rigged\ninside a double tent, so better to keep off the hot sun and the rain.\nThen he began to dig into the rock, which was not very hard, and soon\nbehind his tent he had a cave in which he thought it wise to stow his\ngunpowder, about one hundred and forty pounds in all, packed in small\nparcels; for, he thought, if a big thunderstorm were to come, a flash\nof lightning might explode it all, and blow him to bits, if he kept the\nwhole of it in his tent.\nRobinson was now very comfortable, and as he had saved from the wreck\ntwo cats and a dog, he did not feel quite so lonely. He had got, also,\nink and pens and paper, so that he could keep a diary; and he set up\na large wooden cross, on which he cut with his knife the date of his\nlanding on the island--30th September 1659; and every day he cut a\nnotch on the post, with a longer one each Sunday, so that he might\nalways know how the months and years passed.\nAs for food, he found that there were many goats on the island, and\nnumbers of pigeons, and he had no difficulty in shooting as many as he\nneeded.\nBut now he saw that his tent and cave were too small for all the things\nhe had stowed in them, so he began to make the cave bigger, bringing\nout all the rock and soil that he cut down, and making with it a\nkind of terrace round the inside of his stockade. And as he was sure\nthat there were no wild beasts on the island to harm him, he went on\ntunnelling to the right hand till he broke through the rock outside his\nfence.\nThen he began to hang things up against the side of the cave, and he\neven made shelves, and a door for the outside entrance. This was a very\ndifficult job, and took him a long time; for, to make a board, he was\nforced to cut down a whole tree, and chop away with his axe till one\nside was flat, and then cut at the other side till the board was thin\nenough, when he smoothed it with his adze. But in this way, out of each\ntree he would only get one plank. He made for himself also a table and\na chair, and finally got his castle, as he called it, in very good\norder.\nWith all his care, however, there was one thing that he forgot, and\nthat was, when he had made the cave so much bigger, to prop it, so as\nto keep the roof from falling in. And so one day he got a terrible\nfright, and was nearly killed, by a huge bit of the soft rock which\nfell and buried many of his things. It took weeks of hard work\nafterwards to clear away the fallen rubbish, and to cut beams strong\nenough to prop the roof.\nEvery day, all this time, he used to climb up the hill and look around\nover the lonely waters, hoping, always hoping, that some morning he\nmight see the sails of a ship that would take him home. But none ever\ncame, and sometimes the tears ran down his cheeks because of the sorrow\nhe felt at being so utterly alone. At times even, he thought in his\nmisery that if only he had any kind of a boat, it would be better to\nsail away, and chance reaching other land, rather than to stop where\nhe was. By and by, however, he grew less unhappy, for he had plenty of\nwork to do.\nCHAPTER III\n                     THE EARTHQUAKE AND HURRICANE;\n                     AND HOW ROBINSON BUILT A BOAT\nNow about this time, when Robinson had been some months on the island,\nheavy and constant rain began to fall, and sometimes weeks would pass\nwithout a single dry day. He found that instead of there being Spring,\nSummer, Autumn, and Winter, as in England, the seasons in his island\nwere divided into the wet and the dry. There was no cold weather, no\nwinter. It chanced that just before this first rain began, Robinson\nhad emptied out some refuse from bags which had once held rice, and\nother grain, and he had forgotten all about having emptied them. So he\nwas very much astonished to find, some time afterwards, both barley\nand rice growing near his tent, in the shade of the rock. The ears,\nwhen ripe, he kept to sow again, and from this very small beginning,\nin the course of a few seasons, he had a great quantity of grain, both\nfor food and for sowing. But this meant every year much hard work, for\nhe had no plough nor harrow, and all the ground had to be dug with a\nclumsy spade, made from a very hard, heavy wood that grew on the island.\nAt first Robinson could not grind the grain that he grew, nor make\nbread from it. If he could have found a large stone, slightly hollow on\ntop, he might, by pounding the grain on it with another round stone,\nhave made very good meal. But all the stones he could find were too\nsoft, and in the end he had to make a sort of mill of hard wood, in\nwhich he burnt a hollow place, and on that he pounded the grain into\nmeal with a heavy stick.\nBaking he did by building a big fire, then raking away the ashes, and\nputting the dough on the hot place, covered with a kind of basin made\nof clay, over which he heaped the red ashes. In this way very good\nbread can be made.\nBefore the rainy season was over, and just after he had finished the\nfence round his tent, one day when Robinson was at work in the cave,\nall of a sudden the earth began to fall from the roof, and the strong\nprops he had put in cracked in a way which frightened him terribly.\nAt the same time there was a curious moaning, rumbling noise, that he\ncould not understand. He rushed out, and so afraid was he that the roof\nwas falling in, and that he should be buried, that he got over the\nfence and began to run.\nBut he was even more frightened when he found that all the ground was\nshaking. Then he knew that this was an earthquake.\nThree times there came violent shocks; a huge rock about half a mile\naway fell with a great noise like thunder, and the sea was churned\nup as if by a whirlwind. Robinson was sick with the movement of the\nground, and trembling with the dread of being swallowed by the earth\nas it cracked and gaped; and after the noise and shaking were over, he\nwas too frightened to go back to his tent, but sat where he was, all\nthe time expecting another shock.\nSuddenly a furious wind began to blow, tearing up trees by the roots,\nand lashing the water till nothing could be seen but foam and flying\nspray. The air was full of branches and leaves torn off by the\nhurricane, and birds in hundreds were swept helpless out to sea. In\nabout three hours, as suddenly as it had begun, the wind fell, and\nthere was a dead calm, followed by rain such as Robinson had never\nbefore seen, which soaked him to the skin, and forced him to return to\nthe cave, where he sat in great fear.\nFor long after this he was very uneasy, and made up his mind to shift\nhis quarters as soon as he could find a better place for his tent. But\nthe earthquake had one good result, for what remained of the wreck\nwas again thrown up by the sea, and Robinson got more things out of\nit which were useful to him, and for days he worked hard at that. One\nday, too, when he was on his way to the remains of the ship, he came\non a large turtle, which he killed, and this gave him plenty of good\nfood, for besides the flesh, there were, inside the animal, many eggs,\nwhich she had come to the shore to lay in the sand, as is the habit of\nturtles, and which Robinson thought were even better than hen\u2019s eggs.\n[Illustration: One day he came on a large turtle]\nNow a few days after he had got so wet in the heavy rain, though the\nweather was hot, Robinson felt very cold and shivery, and had pains all\nover his body, and at night he dreamed terrible dreams. The following\nday, and many days, he lay very ill with fever and ague, and hardly\nknew what he was doing. So weak was he, that he believed he was dying,\nand there was no one to give him water to quench his thirst, nor to\nhelp him in any way. His only medicine was rum, in which he had soaked\ntobacco. It was very nasty, and made him sick, but it also made him\nsleep for more than a whole day and a night, and he woke much better,\nand able to walk about a little, though for a fortnight he was too weak\nto work. From this illness he learned not to go out more than he could\nhelp during the rainy season.\nWhen he was again quite strong, Robinson started to explore the island\nbetter than he had yet done, and he found many things growing, of which\nhe made great use afterwards, tobacco, sugar-cane, and all manner of\nfruits, amongst them grapes, which he used to dry to raisins in the sun\nin great quantities.\nNear the spot where the most fruit grew, he built a hut, and round it,\nfor safety, he put a double fence made of stakes cut from some of the\ntrees near at hand. During the next rainy season these stakes took\nroot, and grew so fast that soon nothing of the hut could be seen from\noutside the hedge, and it made so good a hiding-place, that Robinson\ncut more stakes of the same kind, and planted them outside the fence\naround his first dwelling; and in a year or two that also was quite\nhidden from view. The twigs of this tree, too, were good for making\nbaskets, of which he had been in great need.\nWhen he had finished all this work, he started again to go over the\nrest of the island, and on his way across, from a hill, the day being\nvery clear, he saw high land a great way off over the water, but\nwhether it was another island, or the coast of America, he could not be\nsure.\nWhen he reached the other side of his island Robinson found the beach\ncovered with turtles in astonishing numbers, and he thought how much\nbetter off he would have been if he had been cast ashore here, for not\nonly would the turtles have supplied him with plenty of food, but there\nwere far more birds than on the part of the island where he had been\nliving, and far more goats.\nDuring the journey back to his castle he caught a young parrot, which,\nafter a long time, he taught to speak and to call him by his name. It\nwas so long since he had heard any voice, that it was a comfort to\nlisten even to a parrot talking.\nNow, the sight which Robinson had had of the far distant land raised in\nhim again the great longing to get away from this island where he had\nbeen so long alone, and he wished greatly for a boat. He went over to\nthe remains of the boat in which he and the others had tried to come\nashore when their ship struck on the sand-bank, and which had been\nflung far up on the beach by the sea, and he worked for weeks trying to\nrepair her and to get her into the water. But it was all of no use; he\ncould not move her.\nThen, he thought, \u2018I\u2019ll cut down a tree, and make a new boat.\u2019 This he\nfancied would be easy, for he had heard how the Indians make canoes by\nfelling a tree and burning out the inside. \u2018If they can do it, then\nsurely I can do it even better,\u2019 he thought. So he looked about, and\nchose a huge tree which stood about a hundred yards from the water, and\nwith great labour in about three weeks he had cut it down.\nFour months Robinson worked at this boat, thinking all the time of what\nhe would do when he reached the far distant land, and much pleased with\nhimself for the beautiful boat he was making. Day after day he trimmed\nand shaped it, and very proud he was when it was finished and lay there\non the ground, big enough to carry twenty men.\nThen he started to get her into the water. But that was quite another\nthing. By no means in his power could he move her an inch, try as he\nmight. She was far too big. Then he began to dig a canal from the sea\nto the boat; but before he had got much of that work done, he saw\nclearly that there was so much earth to dig away, that, without some\none to help him, it must take years and years before he could get the\nwater to the boat. So he gave it up, and left her to lie and rot in the\nsun and the rain,--a great grief to him.\nCHAPTER IV\n                    ROBINSON BUILDS A SECOND BOAT,\n                    IN WHICH HE IS SWEPT OUT TO SEA\nBy the time that Robinson had been four years on the island, all his\nclothes had become very ragged, and he had hardly anything that could\nbe called a hat. Clothes he must have, for he could not go naked\nwithout getting his skin blistered by the hot sun, and he was afraid of\ngetting a sunstroke if he went about without a hat.\nNow he had kept all the skins of the goats, and other animals, such as\nhares and foxes, that he had shot; and from these, after many failures,\nat last he made a hat and coat of goatskin, and a pair of short\ntrousers, all with the hair outside, so as to shoot off the wet when it\nrained. The hat was very tall, and came to a sharp peak on top, and it\nhad a flap which hung down the back of his neck. Robinson also, with\nmuch trouble, made of the skins an umbrella which he could open and\nshut; and if his clothes and his umbrella, and especially his hat, were\nnot very good to look at, they were useful, and he could now go about\nin any weather.\nDuring the next five years nothing out of the common happened, and\nRobinson\u2019s time was mostly taken up with the getting of food, the\nyearly sowing and reaping of his crops, and the curing of his raisins.\nBut towards the end of that time he made another attempt to build a\nboat, and this time he made one much smaller than the first, and though\nit took him nearly two years to finish, in the end he got her into the\nsea. She was not big enough for him to try to sail in to the far-off\nland that he had seen, and he used her only for cruising about the\nshores of his own island, and for fishing. In her he fixed a little\nmast, on which he rigged a small sail, made from a bit of one of the\nold ship\u2019s sails, and, using a paddle to steer with, he found that she\nsailed very well. Over the stern he fixed his big umbrella, to shade\nhim from the sun, like an awning.\nEager to go all round the island, one day Robinson put a lot of food\non board, and, taking his gun, started on a voyage. All went well till\nhe came to the east end of the island, where he found that a ledge of\nrocks, and beyond that a sand-bank, stretched out to sea for eight\nor nine miles. Robinson did not like the idea of venturing so far in\na boat so small, and he therefore ran the boat ashore, and climbed a\nhill, to get a good view of the rocks and shoals before going near\nthem. From the hill, he saw that a strong current was sweeping past\nthe sand-bank, which showed just clear of the water, and on which the\nsea was breaking; but he thought there was an eddy which would swing\nhim safely round the point, without bringing him near the breakers.\nHowever, that day and the next, there was a good deal of wind blowing\nin the direction contrary to the current, which, of course, raised a\nsea too big for a small boat, so Robinson stopped on shore where he was.\nOn the third day it was calm, and he set off. But no sooner had he come\nabreast of the sand-bank than he found himself in very deep water, with\na current running like a mill-race, which carried the boat further and\nfurther away from the land, in spite of all that he could do with his\npaddle. There was no wind, and the sail was useless.\nNow he gave himself up for lost, for the harder he worked, only the\nfurther away seemed the boat to be swept. The island was soon so far\noff that Robinson could hardly see it, and he was quite exhausted\nwith the hard struggle to paddle the boat against the current. He was\nin despair, and giving up paddling, left the boat to drift where she\nwould. Just then a faint puff of wind touched his cheek, and Robinson\nhurriedly hoisted his sail. Soon a good breeze blew, which carried him\npast a dangerous reef of rocks. Here the current seemed to divide, the\npart in which he now was began to swing round towards the island, and\nhe plucked up heart again, and with his paddle did all he could to help\nthe sail. Robinson felt like a man who is set free after he has been\ntold that he must die; he could almost have wept for joy. Miles and\nmiles he sailed, steadily getting nearer to the land, and late in the\nevening at last he got ashore, but on the other side of the point that\nhe had tried to round in the morning. He drew up his boat on the shore\nof a little cove that he found, and when he had made her fast, so that\nthe tide could not carry her away, there amongst the trees he lay down,\nand slept sound, quite worn out.\nIn the morning he again got on board, and coasted along close inshore,\ntill he came to a bay with a little river running into it, which made a\nvery good harbour for the boat. Here he left her, and went on foot.\nSoon he found that he was not far from a spot that he had once before\nvisited, and by afternoon he arrived at the hut which he called his\ncountry-house. Robinson got over the fence by the ladder, as usual,\npulling it up after him, and then he lay down to rest in the shade, for\nhe was still very weary from the hard work of the day before. Soon he\nfell asleep. But what was his surprise in a little time to be awakened\nby a voice calling, \u2018Robin! Robin Crusoe! where are you?\u2019\nAt first he thought he was dreaming. But still the voice went on\ncalling:\n\u2018Where are you, Robin?\u2019\nUp he jumped, trembling with fright and wonder, for it was so long\nsince he had heard any voice but his own that he fancied it must be\nsomething more than human that he now listened to. But no sooner had\nhe risen than he saw, sitting on a tree near to him, his parrot, which\nmust have flown all the way from Robinson\u2019s other house, where he had\nbeen left. It was talking away at a great rate, very excited at again\nseeing its master, and Robinson hardly knew whether to be more relieved\nor disappointed that it was only the bird that had called him.\nFor about a year after this Robinson kept to his own side of the\nisland, and employed his time chiefly in working on his land, and\nin making dishes and pots of clay. These he had now learned to burn\nproperly. Pipes, too, he made, and they were a great comfort to him,\nfor he managed to cure very good tobacco from the wild plants that grew\naround. And as he feared lest his powder might begin to run short, he\nthought much over ways whereby he could trap goats for food, instead\nof shooting them. After many trials, the best plan, he decided, was to\ndig holes, which he covered with thin branches and leaves, on which he\nsprinkled earth, so that when anything heavy passed over, it must fall\ninto the pit. By this means he caught many, and the kids he kept and\ntamed, so that in no great time he had quite a large herd of goats.\nThese he kept in various small fields, round which from time to time he\nhad put fences.\nCHAPTER V\n                   ROBINSON SEES A FOOTPRINT ON THE\n                       SAND, AND FINDS TRACES OF\nAll this time Robinson had never gone near his canoe, but now the\nlonging came on him to go over to where he had left her, though he\nfelt that he should be afraid again to put to sea in her. This time,\nhowever, when he got to the hill from which he had watched the set of\nthe current the day that he had been carried out to sea, he noticed\nthat there was no current to be seen, from which he concluded that\nit must depend on the ebb and flow of the tide. Still, he was afraid\nto venture far in the canoe, though he stopped some time at his\ncountry-house, and went out sailing very often.\nOne day when Robinson was walking along the sand towards his boat,\nsuddenly, close to the water, he stopped as if he had been shot, and,\nwith thumping heart, stood staring in wonder and fear at something that\nhe saw. The mark of a naked foot on the sand! It could not be his own,\nhe knew, for the shape was quite different. Whose could it be?\nHe listened, he looked about, but nothing could he hear or see. To the\ntop of a rising ground he ran, and looked all around. There was nothing\nto be seen. And though he searched everywhere on the beach for more\nfootmarks, he found none.\nWhose footprint could it be? That of some man, perhaps, he thought, who\nmight come stealing on him out from the trees, or murder him whilst he\nslept.\nBack to his house he hurried, all the way in a state of terror,\nstarting every now and again and facing round, thinking he was being\nfollowed, and fancying often that a stump or a bush was a man, waiting\nto spring on him. That night he slept not at all, and so shaken was\nhis nerve that every cry of a night bird, even every sound made by\nan insect or a frog, caused him to start with fear, so that the\nperspiration ran down his brow.\nAs day followed day, however, and nothing happened, Robinson began to\nbe less uneasy in his mind, and went about his usual work again. But\nhe strengthened the fence round his castle, and cut in it seven small\nloop-holes, in which, fixed on frames, he placed loaded muskets, all\nready to fire if he should be attacked. And some distance from the\noutside of the fence he planted a thick belt of small stakes, so that\nin a few years\u2019 time a perfect thicket of trees and bushes hid all\ntrace of his dwelling.\nYears passed quietly, and nothing further happened to disturb Robinson,\nor to make him think more of the footprint that had frightened him so\nmuch. But he kept more than formerly to the interior of the island, and\nlost no chance of looking for good places to hide in, if he should ever\nneed them. And he always carried a cutlass now, as well as his gun and\na couple of pistols.\n[Illustration: He saw the mark of a naked foot on the sand]\nOne day it chanced, however, that he had gone further to the west of\nthe island than he had ever done before, and, looking over the sea,\nhe fancied that he saw, at a great distance, something like a boat or\na long canoe, but it was so far off that he could not be sure what it\nwas. This made him determine that always in future he would bring with\nhim to his lookout-place the telescope which he had saved from the\nwreck.\nThe sight of this supposed boat brought back his uneasiness to some\nextent, but he went on down to the beach, and there he saw a sight\nwhich filled him with horror. All about the shore were scattered men\u2019s\nskulls and bones, and bits of burnt flesh, and in one place were the\nremains of a big fire. Robinson stood aghast, feeling deadly sick. It\nwas easy for him to know the meaning of the terrible sight. It meant\nthat cannibals had been there, killing and eating their prisoners; for\nwhen the natives of some parts of the world go to war, and catch any\nof their enemies, it is their habit to build a fire, then to kill the\nprisoners and feast on their roasted bodies, eating till they can eat\nno more. Sometimes, if the man they are going to eat is too thin, they\nkeep him, and feed him up, till they think he is fat enough.\nNow Robinson knew all this, though he had never yet met any cannibals.\nAnd when he looked around he saw many bones lying about. They were so\nold that it seemed certain to him that all those years he had been\nliving on an island which was a regular place for the natives to come\nto for such feasts. Then he saw what a mercy it was that he had been\nwrecked on the other side of the island, to which, he supposed, the\ncannibals never came, because the beach was not so good for them to\nland on.\nFull of horror, Robinson hurried back to his house, and for almost two\nyears he never again came near that part of the island where the bones\nlay, nor ever visited his boat. But all the time he kept thinking how\nhe might some day kill those cannibals whilst they were at their feast,\nand perhaps save some of the poor men whom they had not yet killed.\nSometimes he thought of putting powder below the place where they were\nlikely to light their fire, and thus blow them up. But that did not\nseem a very good plan, because he did not want to waste his powder, and\nmay be they might not light the fire on that spot, or they might not be\nnear when it exploded. So he looked for a place where he could hide,\nnear where the bones lay, and at last he found a good spot, from which\nhe could watch them land. Near this spot were trees, through which he\ncould creep up quite close to them, unseen, and so shoot without danger\nof missing. And it was his plan, that if he should happen to see the\nsavages next time they came over for one of their horrible feasts, he\nwould lie hidden till a good chance came, then shoot as many as he\ncould with his gun and pistols, and afterwards with his cutlass rush\nupon those that were left. In this way he counted on being able to\nkill them all, even if there were as many as twenty, for they would be\ntaken by surprise, and in the confusion might not be able to get at\ntheir spears and clubs.\nWhen he had made this plan, Robinson was so pleased with it that for a\ntime he could think of little else, and every day he would walk three\nmiles to his lookout-hill, and watch through his telescope for signs of\ncanoes coming over the sea towards the island. But after two or three\nmonths without result, he grew tired of it. Never a speck was to be\nseen on the water in any direction, and he began to go less and less\noften to the lookout-hill, and then gave up going altogether. Perhaps\ntoo, he thought, it was no business of his; the savages did not know\nany better, and were only doing what their fathers had taught them\nto do. It was the custom in these savage lands, and Robinson came to\nthink, finally, that he had no right to interfere, unless they first\nattacked him. He argued also that if he did attack, and it chanced\nthat he did not kill them all, that even only one got away, for certain\nthat man would tell his tribe as soon as he got home, and they would\ncome over in hundreds to murder Robinson in revenge for the death of\nthose he had killed. And no doubt they would eat him, the thought of\nwhich was very dreadful.\nOn the whole, therefore, it seemed to him wisest to keep away\naltogether from that part of the beach, and to hide as well as he could\nall traces of any one living on the island. So, except to take away and\nconceal his boat, for more than another year he never went back to that\nspot. The boat, with her mast and sail and paddle, and a sort of little\nanchor he had made for her, he took to the farthest east end of the\nisland. He was sure the savages would never come there in their canoes,\nbecause of the strong current that usually swept past the rocks; and he\nleft her safely moored in a little bay, under the shelter of some high\nrocks.\nMore than ever now, Robinson kept to his two houses, and seldom left\nthem, except to go to a deep valley he had found, through which ran a\nlittle stream of water as clear as crystal, and in which he now kept\nmost of his goats, secured by a fence built all round the valley. He\nalmost gave up firing his gun, lest it should bring the savages to find\nout the cause of the noise; and for the same reason he feared even to\nchop wood or to drive a nail. He was particularly careful, too, never\nto make a fire during the day, for nothing is so easily seen from a\ndistance as smoke, and it would certainly bring the savages on him, if\nthey were on the island, or anywhere near it.\nSo, when he needed a big fire, as he did often when burning the clay\ndishes and pots which he made, he would generally light it during the\nnight. But sometimes in the day-time he would light it in the valley,\nwhere the smoke would not show so plainly against the sky or the dark\ntrees, owing to the hollow being deep, and in the very middle of the\nisland.\nPresently, he began to make charcoal, by burning wood under earth and\nturf, and this charcoal he often took home to his house to use for\ncooking his food, because charcoal makes no smoke.\nCHAPTER VI\n                   ROBINSON FINDS A CAVE; HEARS GUNS\n                      FIRED BY A SHIP IN DISTRESS\nNow one day when Robinson was down in the bottom of the valley, cutting\nthick branches to burn for charcoal, he cleared away some undergrowth\nat the foot of a great rock, in which, near the ground, there was a\nsort of hole, or opening. Into this hole Robinson squeezed, not very\neasily, and found himself in a cave of good size, high enough, at\nleast, to stand up in. It was quite dark, of course, to him coming in\nfrom the sunlight, and he turned his back to the entrance to feel his\nway further in, when suddenly, from the back of the cave he saw two\ngreat fiery eyes glaring at him. His very hair bristled with fright,\nfor he could only think that it must be the Devil at least that he\nsaw; and through the mouth of the cave he fled with a yell.\nBut when he got into the bright sunshine he began to feel ashamed of\nhis panic, and to reason with himself that what he had seen must be\nonly his own fancy. So, taking up a big burning branch from his fire,\nin he went again.\nBefore Robinson had taken three steps he stopped, in almost as great a\nfright as at first. Close to him he heard a great sigh, as if of some\none in pain, then a sound like a muttering, as of words that he could\nnot understand; again another deep sigh. Cold sweat broke out all over\nhim, and he stepped back trembling, yet determined this time not to run\naway.\nHolding his torch well over his head, he looked around, and there on\nthe floor of the cave lay a huge old he-goat, gasping for breath,\ndying, seemingly of mere old age.\nHe stirred him with his toe to see if he could get him out of the cave,\nbut the poor beast could not rise, and Robinson left him to die where\nhe was.\nNow that he had got over his fright, Robinson looked carefully about\nhim. The cave was small, not more than twelve feet across at its\nwidest, but he noticed at the far end another opening. This was so low\ndown, however, that he had to creep on his hands and knees to get in,\nand without a better light than the burning torch, he could not see how\nfar it went. So he made up his mind to come again.\nRobinson had long before this made a good supply of very fair candles\nfrom the tallow of the goats he had killed, and next day he returned to\nthe cave with six of these, and his tinder-box to light them with. In\nthose days there were no matches, and men used to strike a light with\na flint and steel, and tinder, which was a stuff that caught fire very\neasily from a spark.\nEntering the cave, Robinson found, on lighting a candle, that the goat\nwas now dead. Moving it aside, to be buried later, he went down on\nhis hands and knees, and crawled about ten yards through the small\npassage, till at last he found himself in a great chamber, the roof of\nwhich was quite twenty feet high. On every side the walls reflected the\nlight of his candle, and glittered like gold, or almost like diamonds,\nhe thought. The floor was perfectly dry and level, even on the walls\nthere was no damp, and Robinson was delighted with his discovery. Its\nonly drawback was the low entrance; but, as he decided to use the cave\nchiefly as a place to retreat to if he should ever be attacked, that\nwas in reality an advantage, because one man, if he had firearms, could\neasily defend it against hundreds.\nAt once Robinson set about storing in it all his powder, except three\nor four pounds, all his lead for making bullets, and his spare guns and\nmuskets. When moving the powder, he thought he might as well open a\nbarrel which had drifted ashore out of the wreck after the earthquake,\nand though water had got into it, there was not a great deal of damage\ndone, for the powder had crusted on the outside only, and in the inside\nthere was about sixty pounds weight, quite dry and good. This, with\nwhat remained of the first lot, gave him a very large supply, enough to\nlast all his life.\nFor more than two-and-twenty years Robinson had now been in the island,\nand he had grown quite used to it, and to his manner of living. If\nhe could only have been sure that no savages would come near him, he\nfelt almost that he would be content to spend all the rest of his days\nthere, to die at last, as the goat he found in the cave had died, of\nold age.\nIt was near the end of the month of December, his harvest time, and\nRobinson used then to be much out in his fields even before daylight.\nOne morning, being anxious to finish cutting the crop, he had left\nhis house even earlier than usual, long before the stars had ceased\nto shine or the first flush of dawn had showed in the sky, and as he\ncrossed the higher lying ground between his castle and the cornfield,\nit chanced that he glanced in the direction of the sea.\nThere, on the shore, to his great horror on his own side of the island,\nhe saw a fire burning, and he knew that this could only have been lit\nby the cannibals, who had once more landed.\nStraight back to his castle he ran, and climbed hurriedly over the\nfence, pulling the ladder up after him. Quickly he loaded all his\nmuskets and pistols, ready to defend himself to the last gasp, for\nhe was sure that, if these savage men should happen to see his crops\ngrowing in the fields, they would know that some one was living on the\nisland, and would never rest till they found him.\nBut when Robinson had waited some time without anything happening, he\ncould bear the suspense no longer. Taking the telescope, he put his\nladder against the rock where there was a flat ledge, and climbing up\nto this, pulled the ladder after him, and again resting it there, so\nclimbed to the top of the rock, where he lay down and looked eagerly\nthrough the glass.\nThere were no less than nine savages, he saw, all sitting round the\nfire, cooking something, but what it was that they cooked he could not\ntell, though it was not difficult to guess.\nAfter a time they began a kind of dance round the fire, all of them\nstark naked, and Robinson watched them at this for nearly two hours.\nThe cannibals had two canoes, which were hauled up on the shore, and as\nit was then low water he fancied they must be waiting for the tide to\nrise again. And so it turned out, for when the tide had been flowing\nfor a time, they shoved off, jumped on board, and paddled away.\nAs soon as Robinson was sure that they were really gone, he went with\nall his speed to the hill from where, first of all, long ago, he had\nseen signs of savages, and looking through his glass, he saw three more\ncanoes at sea, all paddling away from the island. On going down to the\nshore, there he saw a dreadful sight. Skulls, bits of flesh, and bones,\nlay about, and fresh blood was everywhere, hardly yet soaked into the\nsand.\nThis awful sight so horrified and roused Robinson that once more he\ndetermined, whenever the next chance came, to attack the cannibals,\nhowever many there might be, and kill all that he could. But always,\nfor long after, he lived in great uneasiness, never sure that at any\nmoment he might not be taken by surprise. Often he wished the time had\ncome when he could run at them; for suspense is always harder to bear\nthan any action, however dangerous.\nBut many months went by, and no savages were seen, and nothing\ndisturbed Robinson except dreadful dreams, from which in the night he\noften started out of his sleep, crying out and struggling, thinking\nthat the savages were trying to kill him.\nAbout the middle of the following May, one day there came a very great\nstorm, with much thunder and lightning and rain, and during the night\nthe wind blew a perfect hurricane. Robinson was sitting listening to\nthe roaring of the wind, and sometimes reading the Bible which he had\nfound in one of the seamen\u2019s chests, for he could not sleep.\nSuddenly he was startled by a kind of dull thud that seemed to shake\nthe very air, such a thud as you might hear if something very heavy,\nbut soft, fell on the floor of a room upstairs. And this noise was\nfollowed in about a minute by another thud. This time he could hear\nplainer, and he knew that the sounds were those of big guns fired at\nsea, and that they must come from some ship in danger, and signalling\nfor help, perhaps to some other vessel.\nRobinson ran out, and climbing up his ladder, got to the top of the\nrock in time to see the flash of another gun, away towards the reef of\nrocks at the end of the island.\nIf he was not able to help the people on board the vessel, they might\nyet, if they were saved, help him, so he collected all the dry wood\nhe could get, and making a great pile, set fire to it, as a signal to\nthe ship that there was some one on the island. And he was sure that\nthe signal was seen, for as soon as it blazed up another gun was fired;\nthen gun after gun, for some time.\nRobinson kept his fire blazing all night, and when daylight came, and\nthe storm cleared off, he thought he could see, away to the east,\nsomething which looked like a ship. He fancied she was at anchor, for\nshe never moved. But the distance was too great, and the weather too\nthick for him to be sure if it was a ship at all that he saw.\nLater in the day, when the weather had cleared, on going up the hill\nfrom which, long ago, he had watched the current sweeping past the\nrocks, he could see plainly that there was a vessel, but, to his\nsorrow, that she was a wreck, fast on the reef where, the day he was\ncarried out to sea, he had found the current divide.\nWithout doubt the crew must have perished. And it filled Robinson\nwith sadness and great grief to think how near he had been perhaps\nto fellow countrymen, and how not even one had been spared to come\nashore. His whole soul yearned for the sight of a white man, some one\nto whom he could speak. But all that ever he saw of the crew, except\nwhat he afterwards found on the ship itself, was the body of a boy,\nwhich drifted on shore at the end of the island nearest the wreck; and\nhe could not tell from the few clothes that were on the body to what\nnation the boy had belonged. In his pockets were two gold coins, and a\ntobacco pipe, and the last at least was of use to Robinson.\nCHAPTER VII\n                  ROBINSON VISITS THE WRECKED SPANISH\n                     SHIP; RESCUES A PRISONER FROM\nWhen the weather had again become calm and settled, Robinson was\ngreatly tempted to venture out in his boat to the wreck, in spite of\nthe narrow escape he had had before at that place; but there might\nstill, he thought, be some one alive on board, and he made up his mind\nto risk it. This time he put a compass in the boat, and great store of\nfood and water, as much as she could well carry, and he pushed off,\npaddling along the shore till he came near to the end of the sand-bank\nwhere the current ran so strong. And there his heart failed him. If he\nonce got into that current, how was he to get out of it again? And if\nhe were swept out to sea, and a gale of wind sprang up, what chance\nwas there that his small boat would live through it? He was so cast\ndown by these thoughts that he ran the boat ashore and got out.\nGoing on to a high rock he sat for hours watching the water, trying\nto make up his mind whether to venture to the wreck or not, when he\nnoticed that the current was now running in the direction contrary to\nthat in which it had been flowing the first time he saw it. This, it\noccurred to him, must be caused by the tides, and it seemed likely that\nif he chose his time, the current going one way would carry him close\nto the wreck, and that caused by the next tide would help him back\nagain.\nThis seemed so simple and easy that he determined to risk it next day.\nSleeping that night in the canoe, early in the morning he started, and\nin little more than two hours safely reached the wreck, without any\ntrouble.\nShe was a pitiful sight,--Spanish, he judged, from her build. She was\nlying on the reef, jammed fast between two rocks, the after part of\nher all stove in by the sea. Her main and foremasts had gone over the\nside when she struck, and hung about the wreck in a tangle of rigging\nand spars. Her bulwarks, and rails, and the poop ladders, were all\ngone, and part of one boat still hung on the davits, torn away by the\nfurious sea before the crew could attempt to lower it. On board, there\nwas no living thing except a dog, which yelped when it saw Robinson\ncoming, and jumped into the sea, and swam eagerly to him when he spoke\nto it. Poor beast! It was almost dead from thirst. Robinson gave it\nwater, and food, and it drank till he was almost afraid it might burst\nitself.\nAfter this, Robinson boarded the wreck, and the first thing he saw was\ntwo men lying in the cook\u2019s galley, dead, held fast in each other\u2019s\narms. Beyond this, there was no trace of any human being, and the\ncargo, whatever it might have been, had mostly been washed out of the\nwreck by the sea. There were still a few casks of brandy, or wine, low\ndown in the bold, but they were too heavy for Robinson to move.\nSome chests there were in the forecastle, which most likely had\nbelonged to some of the crew. Two of these Robinson got into his boat,\nalong with a small cask of liquor, and other things; a powder-horn full\nof powder, a fire-shovel and tongs (which he had always much needed),\ntwo little brass kettles, a copper pot, and a gridiron. These, and the\ndog, were all that he got from the wreck. The dog was a great comfort\nto him, for the animal he had brought ashore from his own ship had now\nbeen dead many years.\nExcept what he found in the seamen\u2019s chests, there was nothing of value\nin the cargo he brought ashore. In the chests were many things that\nhe prized, linen shirts, handkerchiefs, and coloured neckcloths, pots\nof sweetmeats, a case of bottles of cordial waters, very handsomely\nmounted with silver, and, what then was of less value to him, three\ngreat bags of gold pieces, besides gold doubloons, and bars of gold.\nBut all this gold he would gladly have given then for a few pairs of\nEnglish shoes and stockings, for it was of no use at all to him on the\nisland. However, he stowed all the money and the gold in his cave,\nalong with the other things, and then returned and worked his boat\nalong shore to the harbour where he had kept her so long.\nBut the sight of the wrecked ship and the drowned men had filled him\nagain with the longing to go away, and if he had had as good a boat as\nthat in which he escaped from the pirates, he thought that he would\nhave waited no longer on the island, but would have put to sea in her,\nand taken his chance of reaching some land where white men dwelt. With\nthe frail craft that he had, however, such a plan was not possible, and\nhe had no choice but to go on living as he had already so long lived,\nall the time in daily fear of a raid by the savages.\nAnd yet, at times, when his spirits were more than usually low, when\nthe burden of the lonely years pressed most heavily upon him, Robinson\nused to think that surely if the savages could come to his land, he\ncould go to theirs. How far did they come? Where was their country?\nWhat kind of boats had they? And so eager to go was he sometimes, that\nhe forgot to think of what he would do when he got there, or what would\nbecome of him if he fell into the hands of the savages. His mind was\nutterly taken up with the one thought of getting to the mainland, and\neven his dreams were of little else.\n[Illustration: The harbour where he had kept his boat so long]\nOne night, when he had put himself almost into a fever with the trouble\nof his mind, he had lain long awake, tossing and moaning, but at last\nhe had fallen asleep. And he dreamed, not as he had usually done of\nlate, that he was sailing to the mainland, but that as he was leaving\nhis castle in the morning he saw on the shore two canoes and eleven\nsavages landing, and that they had with them another man, whom they\nwere just about to kill and eat, when suddenly the prisoner jumped\nup and ran for his life. And in his dream Robinson fancied that the\nman came running to hide in the thicket round the castle, and that\nthereupon he went out to help him. Then in the dream, the savage\nkneeled down, as if begging for mercy, and Robinson took him over the\nladder into the castle, saying to himself, \u2018Now that I\u2019ve got this\nfellow, I can certainly go to the mainland, for he will show me what\ncourse to steer, and where to go when we land.\u2019 And he woke, with the\njoyful feeling that now at last all was well. But when he was wide\nawake, and knew that it was only a dream after all, poor Robinson was\nmore cast down than ever, and more unhappy than he had been during all\nthe years he had lived on the island.\nThe dream had, however, this result; that he saw his only plan to get\naway was, if possible, to rescue some day one of the prisoners whom the\ncannibals were about to kill, and in time get the man to help him to\nnavigate his canoe across the sea.\nWith this idea, he set himself to watch, more closely than ever he had\ndone before, for the savages to land, and during more than a year and a\nhalf he went nearly every day to his lookout-place, and swept the sea\nwith his telescope, in the hope of seeing canoes coming. But none came,\nand Robinson was getting terribly tired of the constant watch. Still\nhe did not give up, for he knew that sooner or later the savages would\nland again.\nYet many months passed, and still they did not come, till one morning,\nvery early, almost to his surprise, he saw no fewer than five canoes\nhauled up on the shore on his own side of the island. The savages who\nhad come in them were nowhere to be seen. Now, he knew that always from\nfour to six men came in each canoe, which meant that at least twenty,\nand perhaps as many as thirty men had landed.\nThis was a greater number than he cared to face, so he kept inside his\ncastle, in great doubt what to do, but ready to fight, in case they\nshould attack him.\nWhen he had waited a long time and still could hear nothing of the\nsavages, he climbed up his ladder and got to the top of the rock,\ntaking great care not to show himself against the sky-line. Looking\nthrough his glass, he saw that there were at least thirty savages,\ndancing wildly round a fire.\nAs he looked, some of the men left the others, and going over to the\ncanoes dragged from them two prisoners. One of these almost at once\nfell forward on his face, knocked down from behind, as it seemed to\nRobinson, with a wooden club, and two or three of the cannibals at once\ncut him open to be ready for cooking, whilst for a moment or two they\nleft the other prisoner standing by himself.\nSeeing a chance of escape, the man made a dash for his life, running\nwith tremendous speed along the sands straight for that part of the\nbeach near Robinson\u2019s castle.\nNow this alarmed Robinson very much, for it seemed to him that the\nwhole of the savages started after the prisoner. He could not help\nthinking it likely that, as in his dream, this man would take shelter\nin the thicket round the castle, in which case Robinson was likely soon\nto have more fighting than he would relish, for the whole body of the\ncannibals would be on him at once.\nAs he watched the poor man racing for life, however, he was relieved\nto see that he ran much faster than his pursuers, of whom only three\ncontinued to run after him. If he could hold out for another mile or\ntwo there was little doubt that he would escape. Between the castle and\nthe runners was the creek up which Robinson used to run his rafts from\nthe wreck, and when the escaped prisoner came to that, he plunged in,\nand though the tide was full, with less than thirty powerful strokes\nhe reached the other side, and with long easy strides continued his\nrun. Of the men in pursuit, two also plunged in and swam through, but\nless quickly than the man escaping, being more blown with running,\nbecause of what they had eaten before starting. The third man stopped\naltogether, and went back the way he came.\nSeeing the turn things were taking, it seemed to Robinson that now had\ncome his chance to get a servant, and he resolved to try to save the\nlife of the man who was fleeing from the cannibals. At once he hurried\ndown the ladder, snatched up his two guns, and running as fast as he\ncould, got between the man and his pursuers, calling out to him at\nthe same time to stop. The man looked back, and the sight of Robinson\nseemed to frighten him at first as much as did the men who were trying\nto catch him. But Robinson again spoke, and signed to him with his hand\nto come back, and in the meantime went slowly towards the other men,\nwho were now coming near. Then, rushing at the foremost, he knocked\nhim senseless with the butt of his gun, for it seemed to him safer not\nto fire, lest the noise should bring the other cannibals around.\nThe second man, seeing his comrade fall, hesitated, and stopped, but\nRobinson saw when nearer to him that the savage had in his hands a bow\nand arrow with which he was just about to shoot. There was then no\nchoice but to fire first, which Robinson did, killing the man on the\nspot.\nThereupon the man who had been chased by the others was so terrified by\nthe flash and noise of the gun, and at seeing his enemy fall dead, that\nhe stood stock still, trembling, and it was with great difficulty that\nRobinson coaxed him to come near. This at last he did, stopping every\nfew paces and kneeling down. At length, coming close to Robinson, he\nagain knelt, kissed the ground, and taking hold of Robinson\u2019s foot, set\nit on his head as it rested on the sand.\n[Illustration: The man knelt and kissed the ground]\nWhilst this was going on, Robinson noticed that the savage whom he\nhad knocked down had begun to move, and to come to his senses. To this\nhe drew the attention of the man whom he had rescued, who said some\nwords that Robinson could not understand, but which sounded pleasant to\nan ear that had heard no voice but his own for more than twenty-five\nyears. Next he made a motion with his hand, as if asking for the\ncutlass that hung at Robinson\u2019s belt, and when the weapon was given\nto him he ran at his enemy, and with one clean blow cut off his head.\nThen, laughing, he brought the head, and laid it with the cutlass at\nRobinson\u2019s feet.\nBut what caused most wonder to the man was how the savage whom Robinson\nshot had been killed at so great a distance, and he went to look at the\nbody, turning it over and over, and looking long at the wound in the\nbreast that the bullet had made, evidently much puzzled.\nRobinson then turned to go away, beckoning to the savage to follow, but\nthe man made signs that he would bury the two bodies in the sand, so\nthat the others might not find them if they followed. With his hands he\nsoon scraped holes deep enough to cover the bodies, and in less than a\nquarter of an hour there was hardly a trace left of what had happened.\nCalling him away, Robinson now took him, not to his castle, but to the\ncave, where he gave him food and water; and then he made signs for him\nto lie down and rest, pointing to a bundle of rice straw.\nSoon the man was sound asleep. He was, Robinson thought, a handsome\nand well-made man; the muscles of his arms and back and legs showed\ngreat strength, and all his limbs were beautifully formed. As near as\nRobinson could guess, he was about twenty-six years of age, with a good\nand manly face, and long black hair. His nose and lips were like those\nof a European, and his teeth were white and even. In colour he was not\nblack, but of a sort of rich chocolate brown, the skin shining with\nhealth, and pleasant to look upon.\nCHAPTER VIII\n                      HOW ROBINSON TRAINED FRIDAY\nWhilst the man slept, Robinson went out to milk his goats, at which\nwork the savage, having waked in about half an hour, found him, and\nrunning up, threw himself on the ground near Robinson\u2019s feet, one of\nwhich he again raised as before, and placed on his head. At the same\ntime he made every kind of sign of gratitude and submission.\nIn a little while Robinson began to speak to him, and to try to teach\nhim things. First, he made him understand that his name was to be\n\u2018Friday,\u2019 (that being the day of the week when Robinson had saved him\nfrom a horrible death). Then he taught him the meaning of \u2018Yes,\u2019 and\n\u2018No,\u2019 and to call Robinson, \u2018Master.\u2019\nFriday showed great quickness in learning. He seemed to be happy\nand contented, and free from trouble, except that the clothes which\nRobinson made him wear gave him at first great discomfort, for in those\nwarm parts of the world the natives are not used to clothes, but always\ngo about naked. And perhaps they are healthier so, for when rain comes,\nthey can cover their skin with cocoa-nut oil, and the wet then runs\noff their bodies without chilling them, and they do not catch cold by\nwearing damp clothes. Sometimes they make drooping girdles of the broad\nleaves of the banana, which are two or three feet long, and wear these\nround their waists; and sometimes, for ornament, they stick crimson\nflowers behind their ears, or hang them round their necks. But other\nclothes they have none to wear.\nAnd indeed such things would only be in the way, for the natives who\nlive on the coasts often pass nearly whole days swimming in the warm\nsea. They are never afraid of sharks, for they swim so well and so fast\nthat often they are able to kill the sharks, diving under them, and\nstabbing them in the belly with a knife.\nEven the very little children swim almost before they can walk, and\nwhole families go out for a day in the sea, as children and their\nparents in England might go for a picnic. One of their games, when a\nheavy swell is rolling in, toppling over in cataracts of foam as the\nwaves reach the shallower water near the shore, is to swim out, diving\nthrough the broken water, and taking with them a light plank. On this,\nwhen they have got beyond where the seas break, they mount, and come\nrushing in on the crest of the great waves, shrieking with laughter\nwhen any one is upset. It is glorious fun, they think.\nThe day following that on which Robinson had saved Friday, they went\nout together to see if there were any signs of the cannibals still\nbeing on the island, but it was evident that they had gone away without\ntroubling about the two men whom Robinson had killed. Round the place\nwhere their fire had been, were horrible remains of bodies, pieces of\nflesh half eaten, or charred by the fire, skulls, hands, and bones\nof legs and feet. Friday made Robinson understand that these were the\nremains of three prisoners who had been brought over along with him, to\nbe feasted on.\nRobinson\u2019s blood ran cold as he looked, and the horror of the sight\nmade him sick and faint. He ordered Friday to collect all the bodies\nand other remains, and to build a fire to burn them, which Friday very\ncheerfully did. To him it was no great matter, for, of course, all his\nlife he himself had been a cannibal, and he was quite used to such\nscenes. Indeed, when they passed the spot where the two men had been\nburied in the sand, Friday pointed it out to Robinson, and gave him to\nunderstand that he meant to come back, and dig up and eat the bodies.\nThis filled Robinson with disgust and rage, and he let Friday know that\nhe would be severely punished, perhaps killed, if ever such a thing was\ndone by him.\nFor some time Robinson did not trust Friday, and did not allow him\nto sleep in the same part of his castle with himself, but kept him at\nnight in a little tent outside the fence. Every night he drew up the\nladder, so that if Friday ever should attempt to get over, he would be\nsure to make noise enough to wake Robinson. Other precautions also he\ntook, but soon he found that they were not needed. Friday was quite\nfaithful. And he was never sulky nor lazy, but always merry, and ready\nto do anything that Robinson told him. And as time went on, Robinson\ndid not doubt that if there should ever be need for it, Friday would\nrisk his life to save his master.\nAt first when they went out in the woods together, Friday was terrified\neach time that Robinson\u2019s gun was fired. He had never seen anything put\ninto it, and it was more than he could understand how things could be\nkilled merely by the noise and the flash of fire. It seemed to him that\nthe gun was some sort of evil spirit that might do him harm, and it was\nlong before he could be brought to touch one of them, though when he\nwas alone Robinson often heard him talking to them. Afterwards, when he\ncould speak English better, and knew more about guns, he told Robinson\nthat he used to ask them not to kill him.\nOne thing that Robinson could never teach Friday was to eat salt with\nhis food. Salt is a thing that the cannibals do not use, and some\nof them, to this day, go so far as to say that they do not care to\neat a white man, because he is too salt. A native of their own race,\nthey think, is much sweeter, though of course they eat only men of a\ndifferent tribe whom they may capture during one of their wars. But the\nonly form in which they take salt is as sea water, and that they use as\nmedicine, drinking it in large quantities till it makes them sick.\nRobinson asked Friday if his tribe ever came to this island, and Friday\nsaid that they did, and that he himself had often come over; and he\ntold Robinson that on one visit he and his friends had eaten more than\ntwenty men. His tribe, he said, was very strong, and fought well. Thus\nthey took more prisoners, and used the island oftener than the other\ntribes, and it seemed that the far side of the island, where Robinson\nhad seen so many remains of feasts, was the part that Friday\u2019s tribe\nheld as their own. Sometimes other tribes used another island for their\nfeasts.\nIt troubled Robinson\u2019s mind greatly to hear what Friday had to say\nabout this custom, but by little and little, as the weeks went past,\nhe got him to see how horrible a thing it was to eat human flesh. From\nthis beginning, Friday gradually came to be in his habits more like\na white man, and teaching him was a great joy to Robinson, who found\nthe years after Friday\u2019s arrival the happiest of all that he had lived\non the island. Not only had he now help in his work, but he had some\none to talk to, for want of which, during the weary years when he was\nalone, he had almost forgotten his own tongue.\nWhen they began easily to understand each other, Robinson asked Friday\nhow far it was from the island to his country, and if the canoes were\nnot often lost whilst crossing. Friday said there was no danger, and\nthat no canoes were ever wrecked; that always in the morning the\nwind and the current set one way, and the other in the afternoon.\nThis Robinson thought must have something to do with the tides, but\nafterwards he learned that the change of wind was only the difference\nbetween the sea breeze and the land breeze, which blow time about,\nmorning and evening, in those parts. The change in the current was due\nto the in-draft and out-draft of a great river, off whose mouth the\nisland lay.\nFriday told Robinson much about his country, and about his people, who\nhe said were Caribs. And a great way \u2018beyond the moon,\u2019 by which he\nmeant to the west, he said that white men lived who had beards such as\nRobinson wore. These white men, he said, had killed very many natives,\nfrom which Robinson fancied that they must be Spaniards, who about that\ntime were very cruel to the people whose countries they had taken.\nRobinson asked if Friday could tell him how he might get over to where\nthe white men lived, and Friday said it would be very easy, if they\nhad a big canoe. And again Robinson began to make plans and to hope to\nescape from the island. He showed Friday the boat in which he and the\ncrew had tried to land from the wreck, the remains of which still lay\nhigh up on the shore, out of reach of the waves of any but a very high\ntide, or of a storm worse than common. Friday looked long at it without\nspeaking, till Robinson asked what he was thinking of.\nThen he said that he had once before seen such a boat, but for some\ntime he could not make Robinson understand where, or when, he had seen\nit. Robinson thought he meant that a ship had been driven ashore on the\ncoast, and that the boat, perhaps, had come from her. But presently\nFriday spoke of the men who had been in the boat, and whom he and his\npeople had pulled out of the sea. He counted on his fingers to make\nRobinson understand that there had been seventeen of them.\n\u2018Where are they now?\u2019 Robinson asked; and Friday said they still lived\nwith his tribe.\nThis put new ideas into Robinson\u2019s head, for he thought that probably\nthese men might have belonged to the ship whose guns he had heard, and\nto which he had afterwards gone out in his boat as she lay on the reef.\nFriday said that his people had given the men food, and had not hurt\nthem.\n\u2018Why did they not kill and eat them?\u2019 asked Robinson; and again Friday\nassured him that they ate men only whom they took in war.\nIt was some time after this that Robinson and Friday chanced to be on\nthe high hill at the east end of the island. The day was cloudless and\nvery clear, with a light breeze rippling the water, just such a day as\nthat on which, years ago, Robinson had seen land, far over the sea.\nFriday gazed long in that direction, and then began to jump and dance,\npointing to the dim blue coast. \u2018There my country! See! There my people\nlive!\u2019 he said, his eyes sparkling with joy, and an eager light on his\nface.\nAfter this, for a time Robinson was not easy in his mind about Friday.\nHe had little doubt that if he could get back to his tribe, he would\nsoon forget all he had been taught, all that Robinson had done for\nhim, might even return, perhaps, with a hundred or two of his friends,\nand kill and eat his master. But in this Robinson was very unjust to\nFriday, who had no such thoughts in his mind as those of which he was\nsuspected.\nAnd this Robinson soon found out. One day, as they walked up the same\nhill, he asked if Friday would not be glad to be once more in his own\nland.\n\u2018Yes,\u2019 said Friday; \u2018very glad.\u2019\n\u2018Would you eat men\u2019s flesh again?\u2019\n\u2018No, never,\u2019 said Friday, shaking his head very much.\nThen Robinson asked why he did not go back. It was too far to swim,\nsaid Friday. Robinson said he would give him a boat, and Friday said,\nvery well, he would go if Robinson came too.\n\u2018But your people will eat me,\u2019 said Robinson.\n\u2018No, no,\u2019 Friday answered; \u2018you good to me. They good to you.\u2019\nRobinson had then more than half a mind to go, for if he could join the\nother white men, he thought there would be a better chance to build a\nboat big enough to sail in to England.\nSo he took Friday to the place where he kept the small canoe he had\nmade, and quickly he found that he was a very much better boatman than\nRobinson himself, and could make her go through the water nearly twice\nas fast as Robinson was able to do.\nBut when Robinson asked if they might try to go over in that boat,\nFriday\u2019s face fell. She was too small, he said. Robinson then showed\nhim the first boat he had built, and which had been lying on the sand\nnow for more than twenty-two years. That, Friday said, was big enough.\nBut the heat of the sun by this time had so warped and cracked her\nthat, even if they could have got her into the sea, she would not have\nfloated.\nThen Robinson told Friday that he would build him a bigger boat, and\nsend him home in it, but that he himself would remain on the island\nalone, as he had been before.\nThe poor lad\u2019s feelings were hurt at this, and he asked, \u2018Why you angry\nmad with Friday? Suppose master go, Friday go! Suppose master no go,\nFriday no go!\u2019 And he brought a hatchet, and said, \u2018You kill Friday;\nnot send him away.\u2019 Robinson was much touched by this devotion, and\nafterwards always had perfect faith in him.\nCHAPTER IX\n                   ROBINSON AND FRIDAY BUILD A LARGE\n                    BOAT; THEY RESCUE TWO PRISONERS\nBut still the wish to leave the island was as strong as ever, and\ntogether he and Friday went to work to fell a tree from which to build\na boat good enough for their voyage to the mainland. Friday soon showed\nthat he knew far better than Robinson the kind of tree best suited for\nboat-making, though he knew less about hollowing it out; for he had\nnever seen tools suitable for such work. Friday proposed to burn out\nthe inside, but Robinson showed him how to use the tools, and soon he\nwas very handy with them.\nIt took the two of them little more than a month to finish the boat.\nAnd very handsome she looked, and very proud of her they were. But\nit cost them quite a fortnight of very hard work to get her into the\nwater. Below her they had to put large wooden rollers, and then with\nstrong sticks, inch by inch, they levered and pushed her into the sea,\nwhere she floated, very trim and ship-shape, big enough to carry a\ndozen men.\nRobinson was astonished at Friday\u2019s skill in paddling so large a canoe.\nShe seemed to fly through the water, and he could turn her with great\nease.\n\u2018Will she do to go over in?\u2019 he asked, and Friday, grinning, said,\n\u2018Yes, even if big wind blow.\u2019\nBut Robinson did not mean to depend only on paddling. He made Friday\ncut down a straight young pine-tree for a mast, and amongst the old\nship\u2019s sails that he had kept so long he found at last two pieces that\nwere not rotten. From these he made what is called a shoulder-of-mutton\nsail, and a small foresail. It took him nearly two months to cut and\nfit them, but when they were finished and hoisted they acted very well,\nand when a clumsy rudder had been fixed to the boat, he found that she\nsteered nicely, and was quite safe and stiff in a fresh breeze.\nFriday knew nothing of sailing, and was astonished to see the boat go\nso fast, but he quickly learned to handle her quite as well as Robinson\ncould do. The only thing he could not learn was how to steer by compass.\nSix-and-twenty years had passed since Robinson came to the island, and\nthough his hope of getting away was now great, he still went on digging\nand sowing and fencing as usual, and picking and curing his raisins, in\ncase by any chance he should still have to stop where he was.\nAs the rainy season was nearly due, he made Friday dig near the creek\na kind of dock in the sand for the new boat, just deep enough for her\nto float in; and when the tide was low, they made a dam across the end\nof the dock to keep the water out. Then they covered the boat over very\nthickly with boughs of trees; and there she lay, quite dry and snug,\ntill the end of the wet weather, when it was Robinson\u2019s plan to start\nfor the mainland.\nA week or two before the dry season again came, Robinson meant to open\nthe dock and get the boat afloat once more. And to be ready in plenty\nof time he began to lay by a lot of food and other stores for use on\nthe voyage.\nOne morning, when he was very busy over his work, he told Friday to go\ndown to the beach to see if he could find a turtle. Off went Friday,\nbut before he had been gone many minutes, back he came running in a\ngreat hurry, crying out \u2018Master! Master! O sorrow! O bad!\u2019\n\u2018What\u2019s the matter, Friday?\u2019 asked Robinson.\n\u2018Over yonder,\u2019 said Friday, pointing to the west, and very much scared;\n\u2018over yonder, one, two, three canoe.\u2019\nRobinson cheered him as well as he could.\n\u2018Well, Friday,\u2019 said he, \u2018we must fight them. Will you fight?\u2019\n\u2018Yes, Friday shoot,\u2019 he answered, \u2018but too much great many come.\u2019\n\u2018No matter,\u2019 said Robinson, \u2018our guns will frighten those we don\u2019t\nkill.\u2019\nFriday promised to stand by him to the end, and to do just as he was\nbid.\nThen Robinson loaded two guns with large swan shot, and gave them to\nFriday, and himself took four muskets, which he loaded carefully with\nfive small bullets and two slugs each, and in each of his pistols he\nput two bullets. Then he hung his cutlass by his side, and gave Friday\na hatchet.\nWhen all was ready, he went up the hill with his telescope, and saw\nthat there were in all twenty-one savages, with three prisoners. They\nhad landed not far beyond the creek, near a spot where thick bushes\ngrew almost down to the sea.\nGiving Friday one of the pistols to stick in his belt, and one of the\nmuskets to carry, they set off, each of them now armed with a pistol\nand three guns, besides Robinson\u2019s cutlass and Friday\u2019s hatchet.\nRobinson put in his pocket a small bottle of rum, and gave Friday a\nbag with more powder and bullets to carry, and told him to keep very\nquiet, and to be sure not to fire till Robinson gave the word.\nTo get at the savages without being seen, they had to go nearly a mile\nout of their way, and being heavily laden, they could not go very fast.\nDuring this walk, Robinson began to argue with himself again, and to\nthink that perhaps after all it was no business of his to go killing\nsavages who had never done him any harm, and who were only doing what\nthey and their people had done for hundreds of years. They knew no\nbetter, he said to himself, and why should he kill them? His mind\nwas so filled with doubts, that he did not know what to do. Finally,\nhe decided that he would only go near enough to see plainly what the\nsavages were doing, but that, unless there should be some special cause\nfor it, he would not attack them.\nWhen he and Friday got near the place where the savages had lit their\nfire, Robinson sent Friday forward, to see what was going on, and to\ncome back and tell him.\nFriday crept on, and returned very quickly, saying that the cannibals\nhad already killed one of their prisoners, and were eating him, and\nthat very soon they would kill the second prisoner, who was lying near\nto them. The second prisoner, Friday said, was a white man.\nThis news at once changed Robinson\u2019s plans, and he had no longer any\ndoubt what to do.\nCreeping forward, he saw plainly through his glass the white man lying\nbound hand and foot on the sand. There was another tree, Robinson\nnoticed, with a clump of bushes round it, some distance nearer to the\nsavages, and within very easy shot of them. To that he and Friday now\ncrawled.\nThere was no time to lose, for when they reached the tree, two of the\nsavages had gone to the white man, and were untying his ankles. The\nother cannibals were all sitting close together.\nTurning to Friday, Robinson said in a low voice, \u2018Now do exactly as I\ntell you.\u2019 They both took aim at the crowd of savages.\n\u2018Are you ready, Friday?\u2019 whispered Robinson.\n\u2018Ready,\u2019 said Friday.\n\u2018Then fire!\u2019\nRobinson\u2019s first shot killed one and wounded two, but Friday\u2019s dropped\ntwo dead, and three wounded. Snatching up fresh guns, both fired again\nbefore the savages who were not hurt could get on their feet, for they\nwere so taken by surprise and frightened by the noise, that the poor\nwretches hardly knew what was happening. This time only two dropped,\nbut many more were wounded by the swan shot, and ran about yelling till\nthey fell from loss of blood.\n\u2018Now, Friday,\u2019 said Robinson, taking up one of the remaining loaded\nmuskets, \u2018follow me.\u2019 And he rushed out of the wood, with Friday close\nbehind, and charged down on the cannibals as fast as he could run.\nThe two men who had gone to kill the white prisoner no sooner saw this\nthan they fled to the canoes, and three of the others followed, and\njumped into the same canoe.\nRobinson bade Friday shoot at them, and Friday, running forward, fired.\nAll the men in the canoe fell, two of them dead and one wounded. The\nothers seemed to fall from fear, for they soon jumped up and paddled\naway with all their might.\n[Illustration: Robinson ran to the white prisoner and cut his bonds]\nWhilst Friday kept on firing, Robinson ran to the white prisoner and\ncut his bonds, helping him on to his feet, and giving him some rum from\nthe bottle he had brought. The man, on being asked what countryman he\nwas, answered that he was a Spaniard, and he began to thank Robinson\nfor what he had done. But Robinson, who could speak a little Spanish,\nstopped him, saying, \u2018Se\u00f1or, we will talk afterwards. At present we\nmust fight.\u2019 And he gave the Spaniard the cutlass from his belt and a\npistol, telling him, if he had strength left, to go and do what he\ncould against the savages.\nAs soon as the man got the weapons in his hands, he ran with fury\nat the cannibals and cut two down, then turned, and with equal fury\nattacked the rest.\nRobinson now sent Friday for the muskets which had been left under the\ntree, and began quickly to reload them, giving Friday the musket which\nhe himself had been carrying, but which he had not fired.\nMeantime the Spaniard had attacked a very big, powerful savage who was\narmed with a club, and though with his cutlass he had twice wounded\nthe cannibal in the head, yet from being bound so long the white man\nwas weak, and now looked like getting the worst of it. For the savage,\nmaking a rush, closed with him and threw him, and in the struggle had\nnearly wrenched the cutlass out of his hand, when the Spaniard suddenly\nquitting his hold, drew his pistol and shot the man through the body,\nkilling him on the spot.\nThe other natives were now scattered in every direction, and Friday,\nrunning after them with his hatchet, killed all of them except one who\nhad been wounded by the Spaniard, and who, in spite of his wounds,\njumped into the sea and swam out to the canoe in which were the two\nothers who had got away.\nFriday advised Robinson to take another of the canoes and go after\nthem; and Robinson agreed, for he thought that if any escaped they\nwould be certain to come back, bringing hundreds of others to avenge\nthe death of their friends. So the two ran to the beach and began to\nshove off a canoe. But to their surprise, on the bottom of the canoe\nlay another prisoner, an old man, tied so hard, neck and heels, that\neven when his bonds were cut he could not move. He groaned and lay\nstill, perhaps thinking that he was only being untied to be killed.\nRobinson handed the rum to Friday and told him to pour some down the\npoor man\u2019s throat, which seemed to revive him, for he sat up.\nNo sooner did Friday look at him and hear him speak, than he began\nto dance and shout and laugh, and then kneeling down, rubbed noses\nwith the savage (which is what these folks do instead of kissing each\nother), and he was so excited that for some time he could not explain\nwhat was the matter. As soon as he could speak, he told Robinson that\nthe man whom they had found was his father. The poor creature\u2019s wrists\nand ankles were chafed and stiff from being so long bound, and he was\nparched with thirst.\nFriday ran and fetched water for him, and then with rum rubbed his\nfather\u2019s wrists and ankles. Those of the Spaniard also were so\ndreadfully cut and swollen, and he was so worn out with fighting, that\nFriday had to carry him on his back to the canoe. Then he paddled the\ntwo men along to the creek, whilst Robinson walked. But both men had to\nbe carried up to the castle, and Robinson was forced to rig up a tent\nfor them outside, because it was not possible for him and Friday to\nlift them over the fence.\nThe next day Robinson sent Friday to bury the bodies of the savages who\nhad been killed, and to bring in the muskets.\nWhen that was done, he made Friday ask his father if he thought the\nsavages were likely to come back. The man said that he thought they\nwere so frightened by the way they had been attacked, and by the noise\nof the guns and the fire and smoke coming from them, that they would\nprobably never return. He said he had heard them call out that two evil\nspirits were attacking them. And it turned out that the old man was\nright, for no cannibals were ever again known to visit this island.\nCHAPTER X\n                      ARRIVAL OF AN ENGLISH SHIP;\n                        ROBINSON SAILS FOR HOME\nSoon after this Robinson had a long talk with the Spaniard, who told\nhim how he and his comrades had been wrecked four years since, on that\npart of the coast where Friday\u2019s tribe lived. He said that they were\nwell treated by the natives, but that they were put to very great\nstraits now for want of clothes, that their powder was finished, and\nthat they had lost all hope of ever getting back to their own country.\nHe himself, he said, had been captured in one of the many small wars\nthat are always taking place among the various tribes.\nIt struck Robinson that it might be possible for him to get these men\nover to his island, provided that he could be sure of their good\nfaith, and that when they came, they did not take the island from him\nby treachery. It was a risk, he thought, but then, if he got so many\nmen, it would not be difficult to build a small ship that could carry\nthem all to England.\nSo he asked the Spaniard if he would promise, and if he thought he\ncould get his comrades to take an oath that, if Robinson helped them,\nthey would look on him as their captain, and would swear to obey him in\nall things. The Spaniard readily promised for himself, and said that he\nwas sure his comrades would keep faith.\nIt was arranged, therefore, that in about six months, when the next\nharvest was reaped, and there would be plenty of food for so many extra\nmen, the Spaniard and Friday\u2019s father should go over to the mainland in\none of the canoes which had been taken from the savages.\nMeantime, all hands set about the curing of very large quantities of\nraisins, and much other work was done to be in readiness for the\ncoming of these men.\nWhen the harvest was reaped, Robinson gave the Spaniard and Friday\u2019s\nfather each a musket and a supply of powder and bullets, and loaded the\ncanoe with food, enough to last them and the others about a fortnight,\nand the two men set off for the mainland in fine weather, and with a\nfair wind.\nIt was about eight days after this, and when Robinson had begun to look\nout for their return, that one morning very early, when Robinson was\nasleep, Friday came running in, shouting, \u2018Master! master! They come.\u2019\nUp jumped Robinson, and hurrying on his clothes, ran out.\nLooking towards the sea, he soon made out a sailing-boat making for\nthe shore, coming from the south end of the island, but still some\nmiles away. This was not the direction from which the Spaniard and his\ncomrades would come, nor were they likely to be in a sailing-boat. So\nRobinson took his telescope, and went to the top of the hill to see if\nhe could make out who were on board, before they landed.\nHardly had he got on to the hill when he noticed a ship at anchor some\ndistance from the shore. She looked like an English vessel, he thought,\nand the boat like an English long-boat.\nThis was a wonderful sight to Robinson, but yet he was not easy in his\nmind. It was not a part of the world where an English ship was likely\nto come, because in those days they were nearly all Spanish vessels\nthat traded in these seas, and the English and Spaniards were bitter\nenemies. What could an English ship be doing here? There had been no\nstorm to drive her out of her course.\nRobinson feared that if she was English there must be something wrong\nabout her. Perhaps, he thought, she was a Pirate. So he was careful not\nto show himself or Friday.\n[Illustration: What could an English ship be doing here?]\nPresently, as he watched, he saw the men in the boat run her ashore\nand draw her up on the beach, about half a mile from his castle. When\nthey had landed, he could easily see through his glass that they were\nEnglishmen.\nThere were eleven men, but three of them had their hands tied behind\ntheir backs, and were evidently prisoners. When the first four or\nfive men had jumped ashore, they brought out these three, all the\nwhile ill-treating them, and behaving as if they meant to kill their\nprisoners. Friday was sure that they meant to eat them.\nSoon, without further harming the three men, the others scattered about\namongst the trees near the shore, leaving the three sitting on the\nground, very sad-looking, but with their hands now untied.\nAt the time the boat was run aground, it was just high-water, and the\ntwo sailors who had been left in charge of her, and who had evidently\nbeen drinking too much rum, went to sleep, and never noticed that\nthe tide was going out. When they woke, the boat was high and dry,\nand with all the strength of the whole crew they could not move her,\nbecause the sand at that part of the beach was very soft. This did not\nseem to trouble any of them very much, for Robinson heard one of the\nsailors shout, \u2018Let her alone, Jack, can\u2019t ye? She\u2019ll float next tide.\u2019\nAll forenoon Robinson watched, and when the hottest time of the day had\ncome, he noticed the sailors throw themselves down under the trees, and\ngo to sleep, some distance away from the three prisoners.\nThen Robinson and Friday, taking their muskets and pistols, stole down\ncautiously behind the three men, to try to speak to them without the\nothers knowing.\nRobinson had put on his goat-skin coat and the great hairy hat that he\nhad made for himself; and with his cutlass and pistols in his belt, and\na gun over each shoulder, he looked very fierce.\nThe men did not see him till he spoke, and they were so startled by his\nwild look, and by the sight of two men armed to the teeth, that they\nnearly ran away. But Robinson told them not to be alarmed; he was an\nEnglishman, and a friend, and would help them if they would show him\nhow it could be done.\nThen they explained to him what had happened. One of the three was\nCaptain of the ship that lay at anchor off the island. Of the others,\none was mate of the ship, and the third man was a passenger. The crew\nhad mutinied, the Captain told Robinson, and had put him and the other\ntwo in irons, and the ring-leaders in the mutiny had proposed to kill\nthem. Now they meant to leave them on the island to perish.\nThe Captain was so astonished at finding anybody there who proposed to\nhelp him, that he said in his wonder: \u2018Am I talking to a man, or to an\nangel from heaven?\u2019\n\u2018If the Lord had sent an angel, sir,\u2019 said Robinson, \u2018he would probably\nhave come better clothed.\u2019\nThen he asked if the boat\u2019s crew had any firearms, and was told that\nthey had only two muskets, one of which was left in the boat. \u2018The rest\nshould be easy, then,\u2019 Robinson said; \u2018we can either kill them all, or\ntake them prisoners, as we please.\u2019\nThe Captain was unwilling to see the men killed, for he said if two of\nthe worst of them were got rid of, he believed the rest would return to\ntheir duty.\nRobinson made a bargain that if he saved the Captain from the\nmutineers, and recovered the ship, he and Friday were to be taken home\nto England in her, free of cost; and to this the Captain and the others\nagreed.\nThen Robinson gave each of them a musket, with powder and ball, after\nwhich the Captain and the mate and the passenger marched towards the\nspot where the mutinous sailors lay asleep. One of the men heard them\nadvance, and turning round, saw them, and cried out to his companions.\nBut it was too late, the mate and the passenger fired, and one of\nthe ring-leaders fell dead. A second man also fell, but jumped up\nimmediately and called to the others to help him. But the Captain\nknocked him down with the butt of his musket, and the rest of the men,\nseeing Robinson and Friday coming, and knowing that they had no chance\nagainst five armed men, begged for mercy. Three others who had been\nstraying about among the trees came back on hearing the shots, and were\nalso taken, and thus the whole crew of the boat was captured.\nThe Captain and Robinson now began to think how they might recover the\nship. There were on board, the Captain said, several men on whom he\nthought he could depend, and who had been forced by the others into the\nmutiny against their wills. But it would be no easy thing to retake the\nship, for there were still twenty-six men on board, and as they were\nguilty of mutiny, all of them, if taken back to England, would most\nlikely be hanged. Thus they were certain to make a fight for it.\nThe first thing that Robinson and the others now did was to take\neverything out of the boat,--oars, and mast, and sail, and rudder; then\nthey knocked a hole in her bottom, so that she could not float. Whilst\nthey were doing this, and drawing her still further up on the beach,\nthey heard first one gun and then another fired by the ship as signals\nto the boat to return.\nAs she of course did not move, Robinson saw through his glass another\nboat with ten men on board, armed with muskets, leave the ship, coming\nto bring the others back.\nThis was serious enough, for now Robinson and his party had to make\nplans whereby they might capture also this fresh boat\u2019s crew.\nAccordingly, they tied the hands of all the men they had first taken,\nand sent the worst of them to the cave under the charge of Friday and\nof one of the men that the Captain said was to be trusted, with orders\nto shoot any who tried to give an alarm or to escape. Then Robinson\ntook his party and the rest of the prisoners into the castle, where,\nfrom the rock, they watched for the landing of the second boat.\nThe Captain and mate were very nervous, and despaired of taking this\nfresh body of men, but Robinson was quite confident of success, and put\nheart into them by his cheerfulness.\nOf the prisoners in his castle, there were two whom the Captain\nbelieved to be honest men, and on their promising solemnly to keep\nfaith, and to fight for him, Robinson released them.\nThe crew of the second boat, when they landed, were terribly surprised\nto find the first boat empty and stove in, and they were seen anxiously\nconsulting what to do. Then they hallooed and fired volleys. Getting\nno reply, they were evidently alarmed, for they all jumped into their\nboat and began to pull off to the ship. In a few minutes, however, they\nseemed to change their minds, for again they landed, this time leaving\nthree men in charge of the boat, and keeping her in the water.\nThe other seven came ashore, and started in a body across the island to\nlook for their lost comrades. But they did not care to go far, and soon\nstopped, again firing volleys and hallooing. Getting again no reply,\nthey began to march back to the sea. Whereupon Robinson ordered Friday\nand the mate to go over the creek to the west and halloo loudly, and\nwait till the sailors answered. Then Friday and the mate were to go\nfurther away and again halloo, thus gradually getting the men to follow\nthem away from the shore.\nThis plan succeeded very well, for when the sailors, thinking they\nheard their missing friends hail, ran to find them, their way was\nstopped by the creek, over which they had to get the boat to carry\nthem. They took with them, then, one of the three men whom they had\nleft in the boat, and ordered the others to moor the boat to a tree,\nand remain there.\nThis was just what Robinson wanted. And, moreover, one of the men\nplayed still further into his hands, for he left the boat and lay down\nunder a tree to sleep. On him the Captain rushed, and knocked him down\nas he tried to rise to his feet, whereupon the sailor left in the\nboat yielded, the more readily that he had joined the mutineers very\nunwillingly, and was now glad of the chance to rejoin his Captain.\nMeantime Friday and the mate, by hallooing and answering, drew the rest\nof the boat\u2019s crew from hill to hill through the woods, till at last\nthey had got them so far astray that it was not possible for them to\nfind their way back before dark. When they did get back to where the\nboat had been left, and found the men whom they had left in her gone,\nthey were in a terrible fright.\nIt was not difficult for Robinson and his men to surround them, and it\nchanced that the boatswain of the ship, who was the greatest villain of\nthe lot, and the chief cause of all the trouble, walked in the darkness\nclose to the Captain, who jumped up and shot him dead. The others then\nsurrendered, believing what they were told, that they were surrounded\nby fifty armed men. All begged hard for their lives, and a few whom the\nCaptain said he could trust were set at liberty on promising to help to\nretake the ship. The others were bound and put in the cave.\nRobinson and Friday remained on shore to look after the prisoners,\nwhilst the Captain and the mate and the passenger, with those of the\ncrew who were trustworthy, having patched up the damaged boat, pulled\noff in her and in the other to the ship, which they reached about\nmidnight. When they were a short distance off, the Captain made one of\nthe crew hail the ship and say that they had brought off the boat and\nthe men they had gone in search of. Then both boats ran alongside at\nonce, one on each side of the vessel, and before the mutineers knew\nwhat was happening they were overpowered, one or two of them being\nkilled. Only one of the Captain\u2019s party was hurt, the mate, whose arm\nwas broken by a musket-ball.\nAs soon as the ship was secured, the captain ordered seven guns to be\nfired, that being the signal he had agreed to make to let Robinson\nknow if he succeeded in taking the ship.\nRobinson\u2019s stay in the island had now come to an end, after more than\ntwenty-eight years, for in a few days he and Friday sailed for England\nin the ship. Some of the mutineers were left on the island, and were\nafterwards joined by the Spaniard and his comrades, for whom Robinson\nleft a letter.\nRobinson did not forget, when he left, to take with him the money and\ngold bars he had got from the wreck of the Spanish ship, and he took\nalso, as a memento, the goat-skin coat and the great hairy hat. But the\nCaptain was able before the ship sailed to give him proper clothing,\nthe wearing of which at first put him to dreadful discomfort.\nThe voyage was a long one, but they sighted the English coast at last.\nIt was thirty-five years since Robinson had set foot in England. And\nthat morning, when at last, after the weary years of exile, he again\nsaw his native land, he laid his head down on his arms and cried like\na child.\nAnd, may be, you too some day may know the joy of coming home, out of\nthe land of bondage.\n              Edinburgh: Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE.\nTRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES:\n--All hyphenation is as typeset.\n--Variant and archaic spellings have been retained.\n--Illustrations have been moved up or down, to avoid interrupting the\nreader\u2019s flow.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Robinson Crusoe, Told to the Children by John Lang\n"},
{"content": "Being the second part to the tune of Lillibullero, and so on:\n\nA treaty's on foot, look about English boys,\nStop a bad peace as soon as you can;\nA peace, which our Hanover's title destroys,\nAnd shakes the high throne of our glorious Queen Anne.\nOver, over, Hanover, over,\nHaste and assist our queen and our state;\nHast over, Hanover, fast as you can over;\nPut in your claim, before 'tis too late.\n\nA bargain our queen made with her good friends,\nThe states, to uphold the Protestant line;\nIf a bad peace is made, that bargain then ends,\nAnd spoils her majesty's gallant design.\n\nOver, over, and so on:\n\nA creature there is, that goes by more names\nThan ever an honest man should, or would;\nAnd I wish we don't find him an arrant King James,\nWhenever he peeps out from under his hood.\n\nOver, over, and so on:\n\nThe Dauphin of France to a monastery went\nTo visit the mother of him aforementioned;\nHe wished her much joy, and he left her content\nWith a dainty fine peace about to be made.\n\nOver, over, and so on:\n\nWhat kind of a peace, I think we may guess,,Welcome and welcome to her and her Lord.\nLet any man say it if we can do less\nThan be very sorry, when they're very glad.\nOver, over, and so on.\nWhoever is in place, I care not a fig;\nNor will I decide 'twixt High-Church and Low.\n'Tis now no Dispute between Tory and Whig,\nBut whether a Popish Successor, or No.\nOver, over, and so on.\nOur Honest Allies this Peace does explain,\nOf which our French Foes so loudly do boast;\nBut I hope, if they reckon on India and Spain,\nThey reckon without consulting their Host.\nOver, over, and so on.\nOr else we must bid farewell to our Trade,\nWhatever fine Tales some People have told;\nFor whenever a Peace of that Nature is made,\nWe shall send out no Wool, nor bring home no Gold.\nOver, over, and so on.\nThen wage on the War, Boys, with all your Might,\nOur Taxes are great, but our Danger's not small;\nWe'd better be half Undone, than be quite;\nAs half a Loaf's better than no Bread at all.\nOver, over, and so on.\nFINIS.", "creation_year": 1711, "creation_year_earliest": 1711, "creation_year_latest": 1711, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
{"content": "It is humbly conceived that the tax of one penny on a half sheet and two pence on a sheet of every paper and pamphlet is not intended as a method for preventing libels, as a remedy for this is proposed by obliging the bookseller and printer of every paper to set their names and places of abode to the said papers.\n\nAfter the said duty (of about twenty papers of half sheets which come out every week, besides many other occasional ones), there will not be two published, which will advance every penny paper to three pence, or two pence halfpenny at least, and every pamphlet in proportion.\n\nThat of many hundred master-printers and journeymen in this city, two-thirds do entirely depend upon the printing of small papers and pamphlets, especially the latter; and therefore two-thirds of the said printers, with their families, must be entirely ruined.,That with all submission, nothing will contribute more to the spreading and publishing of seditious libels than the said tax, because it is feared that many poorer printers, to prevent their families from starving, will be tempted to print whatever is offered them by any person who will be at the charge of the impression, though at never so great a risk.\n\nThat the intended tax on paper (which to the buyer will amount to near 30 percent) is apprehended to be a sufficient load upon the printers, and perhaps equal to that upon any other trade.\n\nThat paper, after it is printed, is of no intrinsic value at all, but depends merely upon the humour and opinion of people; and that there are few printers in this town who have not many thousands of copies by them, which they daily sell for waste paper.,I. That all printing presses be registered, with the names and places of abode of the proprietors thereof, and all the rooms wherein such presses are set up; this to be repeated as often as any press is removed from one room into another, or the interest thereof transferred to the use of any other person, and not one sheet to be printed off till such registry be first made, under the penalty of\nII. That every printer shall have a particular mark to be registered also with his name and presses, which said mark he shall always be obliged to print visibly at the bottom of the first page of every sheet or half sheet by him printed, under the penalty of III., That all Title Pages shall contain some Register'd Printer's Name, and Place of Abode, with the Year when Printed, under the Penalty of \nIV. That every Printer over and above the Penalties of this Act, shall be subject and liable to all other Prosecutions for any thing offensive contained in whatsoever Sheet, or part of a Sheet he shall Print, with his Mark or without, unless he shall discover the Author, or the Party from whom he had the Copy.\nV. That every Person who shall presume to counterfeit or make use of the Mark or Name of any other Printer, shall be guilty of \nVI. That no Persons be admitted to Register any Printing Press or Presses, nor be taken into Copart\u2223nership with, or have any Interest in or Title to any such Register, or the Benefit thereof; but such only as themselves have, or the Widows or Children of such as have served Seven Years Apprenticeship to the Art of Printing.\nN. B,Most of the recently published papers causing offense were printed by those who had not served an apprenticeship in printing, despite having printing presses. The first article prevents the operation of private presses. The second article reveals the printer of every sheet, even if a book is printed among multiple printers. The third article suppresses the publication of treason, sedition, or scandal, which are the only things attempted to be clandestinely printed, and thus prevents their printing; no one will print what cannot be disseminated, nor will anyone receive what cannot be safely kept in custody. The fourth article will serve as a sufficient caution for printers to be careful of what they print and for whom, given the difficulty of publication and ease of discovery. The fifth article prevents an innocent person from suffering for another's forgery.,All which is humbly submitted to the consideration of this Honorable House, by the Printers of London. They are willing and desirous that a stop be put to the publication of all offensive papers or books. They humbly hope and beseech your Honors, if by these proposals the evils of the press can be prevented, they may be permitted the innocent exercise of their callings, without being obliged to print the name of the author in the title page of every book. This will discourage the publication of many excellent treatises through the excess of modesty in some, who will rather stifle their performances than suffer their names to appear in print, though to a work deserving the greatest applause. On the other hand, some good books will be lessened in the esteem of many readers through a prejudice against their authors, which will be prejudicial to them. Your Honors are hoped not to think it necessary to be insisted on.,They have reasons to believe that your Honors will cease imposing the duty of stamps on all pamphlets once you are convinced it brings no benefit to the Crown, but only suppresses the printing of such small tracts. The Printers' Case: With Their Proposals for Regulating the Press.", "creation_year": 1711, "creation_year_earliest": 1711, "creation_year_latest": 1711, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase2"},
{"content": "THE Angel of Power, who is not to be worshiped with men's lives under the Gospel, but to be loved as brethren, both rulers and people, in their several degrees, and nations to be in unity with one another, and when the nations are gathered into the faith, which gives power, in the Son of Peace, and in the faith of Jesus, which came as an example of peace; they will be peaceable. John in the Divine Nature saw, there is but a true church or a false one; of every nation which is to follow the Lamb, or worship the Dragon, and to be a follower of the Lamb, worship him who made heaven and earth, the sea and the fountains of water, and give glory to him.\n\nAnd as there is one glory in the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars: So the glory of the Father, through the Lamb and his followers, is powerful over the Dragon Spirit and his followers; notwithstanding it may yet be.,Through great suffering; for establishing the Gospel universally, the Lamb and his followers are redeemed from the earth and led in peace and truth to glorify him who made heaven and earth, the sea, and the fountains of water. The dragon leads his followers in error and slaughter till their measure is full, to their own destruction, and are swallowed up in the earth. God, who made heaven and earth, the sea and the fountains of water, is glorified in their destruction. The Word of God stands forever to the faithful and obedient, who do the work of God, in peace to their salvation. The Lamb's spirit cannot touch the dragon's spirit, nor the dragon's spirit overpower the beast rising up out of the sea, joined with the beast. The dragon persecuted the church, called the Woman, and in his wrath, went to make war with the remnant of the seed, which keep the commandments of God and have the testimony of Jesus Christ, and to be in Christ.,The Church, being the firstborn in Christ, has always been powerful, bearing witness before the law and in the time of the law, as well as in the gospel. Hebrews 12:23-28, 13:14, 11:10. Christ was with the Church in the wilderness and by the sea, leading the flock in days of old. He appeared in human form to unite the Church in the peace of the gospel, keeping the commandments of God, which have existed from everlasting to everlasting, without beginning or end. To be of the Church of the firstborn is to be in Christ, and to be in Christ is to be a Christian. To be a Christian is to suffer persecution until the Church of Christ is established in peace on earth, allowing rulers and people to live in a peaceful kingdom. The power of God in man has descended and been made manifest for the redemption of nations into peace and obedience.,Following the example of the Son of Peace and the Church in Christ, are the worshippers in Spirit and Truth of every nation. Revelation 13:4-5 states, \"But they who fear God and work righteousness are excluded from every nation. I perceive that God is no respecter of persons, but in every nation, he who fears God and works righteousness is accepted by him.\" Acts 10:34-35 adds, \"And he who fears God and works righteousness is accepted by him in every nation. It is truth that Michael and his angels fought against the dragon and his angels in heaven, and it was truth that overcame the dragon in heaven, not swords. And the power of the saints in Christ is to sit with him in the heavenly places, their power descended and appeared in Jesus to save men's lives, not to destroy them.\",And all should be gathered to God, both Jews and Gentiles. All should come into the Spirit and Obedience of the Son of Peace. Peter was told to put his sword away, for those who live by the sword will perish (Matt. 26:52; Gen. 9:6; Rev. 13:10). The ministry of the Gospel brings peace to them in Christ (John 6:15; 18:36). Jesus declared his Kingdom was not of this world (John 18:36), but to bear witness to the truth (John 18:37). Pilate asked, \"What is truth?\" (John 18:38), but truth was revealed to Pilate through this encounter with Jesus. We have no continuing city here, but we seek one to come (Heb. 13:14). It is a city with a foundation, whose Builder and Maker is God (Heb. 11:10).,And the maker is God. Christians are to continue seeking the City with a foundation in Truth, making peace with God in the Spirit of the Son. A seed in universal Love may be planted in the Heavenly Canaan and Spiritual Jerusalem, leading to the perfection of obedience in the Christian faith. Show obedience while enduring suffering and tribulations for peace and truth. Christ's Kingdom of Peace may be established in every nation, gathering the other sheep into his spiritual fold. Worship God in Spirit and Truth, as the Father seeks to worship Him. The one Church in Christ is the way to the Father, and every nation's churches established by human law.,The Church established by Grace will stand, of every Nation. It is the Church that will endure, not the Dragon's power. The Dragon and Serpent, once called the Son of the Morning, was an Angel in Heaven. Revelation 12:4. The Dragon and his angels drew the third part of the stars of Heaven and cast them to the Earth in his fall. Revelation 12:1, 3. Truth, the one Church, is in Christ, the Light and Life. They keep out of the Dragon's reach the Bride, the Lamb's Wife, and the Tribes of Israel and the Apostles of the Lamb. The True Church is signified by the Lamb and his followers in peace, distinct from the false worshippers, the Dragon and his followers, joined to Mystery Babylon, which sits upon many waters, a Scarlet-colored Beast, and Mystery Babylon is full of names of blasphemy. The Beast she sits upon has seven heads and ten horns.,The Angel interprets to John the worship of the Kings to the Beast in Revelation 17:12-13. They said, \"Who is like the Beast, who can make war against him?\" (Revelation 13:4, 10). The Beast was given a mouth speaking great blasphemies. The waters signify peoples, multitudes, nations, and tongues (Revelation 17:15). Babylon signifies the false church, guided by the false spirit, and will be brought down and sit in the dust, having no throne (Isaiah 47:1, Jeremiah 50:1, 7, 14, 8; Revelation 18:2, 14). Worshiping the false spirit is called whoredom, as signified in the Old and New Testaments and the Revelations of the Angel of Jesus Christ to John.,And John, in the Spirit, saw the mystery of Babylon the great; her name of destruction, the mother of harlots and abominations of the earth. I saw the woman drunk with the blood of the saints and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus. So it is plain, Babylon is a mixture of confusion in worship, a people led by the false spirit of every nation, apart from those who come to the obedience and peace in the gospel which the Father sent the Son of Peace with. The dragon and his power, and his worshippers, were brought down, having no further place in the heavenly part, nor drawing the stars of heaven to the earth with his tail. For the dragon, assuming a power in heaven which did not belong to him, is cast out, Pharaoh and Nebuchadnezzar being the kings of Babylon and Assyria recorded in Jeremiah 50:17, 37. In the 70-year captivity of Israel and Judah in Babylon, they were cruel to Israel and Judah. The people of God.,The people who owned the true God obeyed the Word spoken by the Prophet and worshiped the true God, neither being ruled by the King of Assyria nor Nebuchadnezzar. They were not idolaters, but worshipers of God. Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, was destroyed in the house of his god by his idolatrous sons, who were like him. Nebuchadnezzar is called the \"Hammer of the whole Earth\" (Jer. 50:23.31.15), but he was not a hammer in the work of salvation for himself or the multitudes. Instead, he executed the Lord's judgments and was later to be cut asunder and broken. Babylon was to become a desolation among the nations, once so great. Shout against her: \"Round about, she has given her hand; her foundations are fallen, her walls are thrown down, for it is the vengeance upon her, as she has done, do unto her.\" Therefore, Babylon was to be destroyed when he had completed his task upon the proud and in executing the Lord's wrath.,Upon the rebellious, to whom he was sent, another was to be raised up against him, a mighty nation. Babylon lamented: O thou that dwellest upon many waters, abundant in treasures, thine end is come, and the measure of thy covetousness. (Jeremiah 51:13) So one idolater was raised to destroy another, in their pride, when their measure of iniquity was full; as the prophet Isaiah saw (Isaiah 14:5-6). And the prophet Ezekiel gives an account of God's judgments upon the prince of Tyre: \"Thou art wiser than Daniel; there is no secret that they can hide from thee. With thy wisdom and understanding thou hast gotten riches, gold and silver into thy treasuries, by thy great wisdom, and by thy trafficking. Thou hast been filled with violence and have taken possession by extortion: thou hast increased thy riches, and hast gathered gold and silver into thy treasuries. By thy great wisdom and by thy trafficking hast thou increased thy riches, and thine heart is lifted up because of thy riches.\" (Ezekiel 28:3-5)\n\nTake up a lamentation upon the king of Tyre, and say unto him, thus saith the Lord God: \"Thou sealest up the sum, full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty. Thou hast been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was thy covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of thy tabrets and of thy pipes was prepared in thee in the day that thou wast created. Thou art the anointed cherub that covereth; and I have set thee so: thou wast upon the holy mountain of God; thou hast walked up and down in the midst of the stones of fire. Thou wast perfect in thy ways from the day that thou wast created, till iniquity was found in thee.\" (Ezekiel 28:12-15),You are a helpful assistant. I understand the requirements and will output the cleaned text as requested.\n\n13 you have been in Eden, the Garden of God. Every precious stone was your covering. 14 You are the anointed cherub that covers. I have set you among the stones of fire. By the multitude of your merchandise, it is plain that the wisdom and greatness which God had given this prince, he turned it into covetousness and pride, and lost the scepter of his power, and was cast out as profane, from the mountain of God, for not making a right use of the wisdom and beauty God had given him, for himself and for the multitude. This is agreeable to the parable of the unjust steward: the children of this world are wiser than the children of light. Luke 16:8. That is, to gain riches and greatness in this world, and yet it is said to the king of Tyre, \"Behold, you are wiser than Daniel; and no secret that they can hide from you. Yet Daniel's obedience outdid Tyre's wisdom, and the angel of power was great with Daniel, and the angel tells Daniel, he is greatly beloved of God.,But which is the best riches, if there were no portion in the earth, but great and mighty men were raised, and not obeying the laws of God, keeping the commandments and the Sabbath day, for their disobedience they were raised, under the law, to destroy one another; because of their pride and false worship, as the prophet shows, Ezekiel 30:6, 31:32, 18:18, and 35:10.\n\nBut when the spring of the Gospel appeared, the examples of the Christian faith, united to the Spirit of God, and they left all to follow the Word of the Lord, did the work of the Lord, and were obedient unto the death of the cross. And when Jesus ascended into heaven, his time on earth being short, the angel of Jesus Christ was sent to declare the judgments of God against sin and false worship, Revelation 9:20, 21.\n\nAnd that the works of the dragon may be brought down and made manifest, that the Lamb of peace may gain the victory over the earth, in the spirit of peace and truth take place.,over the Dragon's Spirit of Destruction and War, and before the Spring of the Gospel, the whole world was at war. But at the birth of Jesus, an angel of the Lord and a multitude of the heavenly host proclaimed peace, saying, \"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men\" (Luke 2:13-14). Jesus was raised as an example of the Christian faith, and the Lord sent forth a great manifestation of peace through him, which should be obeyed. Yet, the whole world is in war even 1711 years later. And a light is now again sent forth to the Caesars of the earth, and the Revelations opened as they never were before, so that the Caesars might see the Christian faith and cease their sword-wielding. According to the example of the Christian faith, they should suffer outwardly for the peace and salvation that is in the Gospel.,To their multitudes, so that the Peace of the Gospel might live among the Caesars of the Earth, and Caesar's sword cease, salvation being offered to Caesar and his multitudes instead of the Gospel. It is necessary to consider now, who put the temptation to our Lord, the Prince of Peace to the world, as they were under the Law and in a destructive nature, they crucified him. Although they had a call to the Christian faith, they had not yet come to be Christians in faith and obedience to the Gospel. Caesar and his destructive sword were alike, and the Caesars of the Earth were not yet free from under the Law, but when the Caesars of the Earth become Christians, laying down their destructive sword in the peace of the Gospel, then the image of Christ will appear in them, and the tribute demanded by them will be paid.,and paid by the multitude to do good, and the destructive sword to cease, for the appearance of our Lord is for peace and truth, and to save men's lives, not to destroy them. Paying a tribute as a traveler through countries, as in many places it is so, to pay something for going over a bridge or through a gate, after such an hour, or for the maintaining of countries, is not an example of upholding Caesar's sword now. This was a time of peace when Jesus ministered the word of God. Therefore, paying such a tribute then or now is no example for Christians in the faith and peace of the Gospel, to uphold Caesar's sword now. Because the life of that prepared body was laid down, that Caesar should come to be a Christian, and the people gathered into peace. Those who are Caesar's friends must suffer for the word of their testimonies, till Caesar sees the Christian faith and peace and power of the Gospel, and in spirit and truth come to Christ.,To reign with him [in suffering], first for the peace which is in the Gospel, leading to the Kingdom of Christ in peace, and as tribute to Caesar, true tribute is to be paid to Caesar in obedience, and for the uniting of the Christian faith, and tranquility according to the Gospel, which is peace and good will towards men, according to the voice of the Angel of the Lord in Luke 2:13-14, and the heavenly host at the birth of Jesus. This voice is to Caesar, as to his multitudes, for until the proclamation reaches Caesar's heart, the multitude is not safe, nor disciplined Christians in their outward life, if they follow the example of Jesus and his disciples. Yet they must be obedient to the great Lord of the whole earth for the sake of the other sheep: not yet gathered into the peace of the Gospel and the example of Jesus, who as the prophet gives the account and foresaw.,He had done no violence, no deceit was in his mouth, yet the stroke was laid upon him, Isaiah 53:9. Let Caesars of the earth consider this, what Pharaoh, Nebuchadnezzar, Tyre, Sidon, Mount Seir, and Gog and Magog, were made great and wise. It was to worship the true and living God and do no iniquity, and keep God's commands, but they forsook the Lord and his commandments (which to keep brings forth peace). Iniquity and pride were found in them, and this proved their own destruction one after another, when their measure was full. Notwithstanding, Nebuchadnezzar is called a king of kings and the hammer of the whole earth, and the servant of God, executing the judgments of the Lord, in bringing down mighty nations, idolatrous kings. I say, which mighty nations, when their measure of iniquity was full, were raised up against him, to bring him down for his evils, as he had brought down others after Israel's 70-year captivity.,in false worship, he was the hammer of the whole earth, called a King of Kings and a Servant of God, yet his service was to destroy, not in the work of salvation, neither for himself nor his multitude. In destroying nature, man is called a dragon, which must be brought down before they can come to peace. Ezekiel 29:3, Psalm 74:13-14, Isaiah 27:1, 51:9. When the angel begins his Revelations to the Seven Churches in Asia, he showed every one of the Churches where they were justified and where they acted against the truth. The angel of Revelation showed the angel of the Church in Pergamos, where Satan's seat was among them, seated. They were such as had held fast the name of God, even though the faithful martyr was slain among you, where Satan dwelt. So notwithstanding their high profession, Satan's seat was among them, and the faithful martyr was slain.,Where Satan dwells, and some among you are charged with this, for Satan works most in them. These are powers that originate from the Truth and have the ability to act in his limited power. Satan had no power or seat with the Lamb or with the great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, kindreds, peoples, and tongues, who had the voice of salvation; and they had come out of great tribulations.\n\nRevelation 7:9-14\n\nThe angel of the Revelation charges the angel of the Church of Pergamos with a few things because you have those who hold the doctrine of Balaam. Balaam taught Balak to place a stumbling block before the children of Israel in false worship, to eat things sacrificed to idols and to commit fornication. Numbers 25 and Revelation 2:13-14.\n\nAfter this, the Revelation gives an account of Satan being cast down from heaven.,with his angels and stars. (Revelation 12:3-4, 9) Yet the false spirit, which he had begotten, worshiped him on Earth, as Revelation 13:4 reveals, and as the Lord's care is over his Church, Revelation 14:6. So the angel having the everlasting gospel to preach to those who dwell on the Earth, and to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people (has a warning), saying with a loud voice, \"Fear God and give glory to Him, for the hour of His judgments is come, and worship Him who made heaven and Earth, the sea, and the foundations of the waters.\" (Revelation 14:6-7) Then followed another angel, saying, \"Babylon is fallen, is fallen, that great city, (and showing the cause for why she fell) because she made all nations drink of the wine of the wrath of her immorality.\" (Revelation 14:8) The third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice, \"If any man worships the beast and his image, and receives his mark on his forehead or on his hand, he will drink of the wine of the wrath of God.\" (Revelation 14:9-10),which is poured out, without mixture, into the cup of his indignation, and he shall be tormented with fire and brimstone, in the presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb. (And as it is written, Holy Angel Antipas was slain where Satan dwells, so John gives an account, the accuser of our brethren is cast down, who accused them before our God day and night, and here his power is limited, to have no more place in heaven. Revelation 8:11 v, [the brethren] they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death, but in faithfulness, the life which is in God is preserved forever. And yet the angels are sent forth to call to the people of God to come out of Babylon, and not to fall with her. Revelation 18: The angel having great power, and the earth was lit with his glory, and he cried mightily with a strong voice, (saying,) Babylon the great is fallen, and she, showing the false church and the spirit of every nation.,and Church, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird. For all nations have drunk of the wine of her wrath, and the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth have grown rich through the abundance of her delicacies. This Babylon is still to be destroyed, a part of every nation and church, and people joined together, from generation to generation, until the gospel takes place, and the powers of the earth follow the example of Jesus, and seek the peace of the gospel by living in obedience to it and preaching it from nation to nation, by the practicing part, for the disobedience and whoredoms of every generation of Babylon must be brought down and rewarded in judgment, in every dispensation, and the kings of the earth, who have committed fornication and lived deliciously with her, shall bewail her and lament for her.,When they see the smoke of her burning, Ezekiel 27:35, Revelation 18:9:24. In her was found the blood of the prophets and of the saints, and all who were slain on the earth (Revelation 18:24). And the riches of those who belonged to and joined with Babylon were named. She fell with her riches, gold and silver and precious stones (Revelation 18:16). And the fruit that your soul lusted after and all things which were dainty and good have departed from you, and you will find them no more at all (Revelation 18:17, 19:1).\n\nAfter these things, John heard a great voice of a multitude in heaven saying:\n\nAlleluia! Salvation and glory and honor and power to our God, for true and righteous are his judgments; for he has judged the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her immorality, and has avenged on her the blood of his servants, as she herself also bore witness. And when he saw her, he marveled with great marvel. But the angel said to me, \"Why do you marvel? I will tell you the mystery of the woman, and of the beast with which she is clothed, which is called Babylon the great, and the mother of prostitutes and of the abominations of the earth. I will tell you the judgment on the great prostitute who is seated on many waters, with whom the kings of the earth have committed sexual immorality, and with the wine of whose immorality the inhabitants of the earth have become drunk\" (Revelation 17:1-2, 18).\n\nTherefore, he carried me away in the Spirit into a wilderness, and I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was full of blasphemous names, and it had seven heads and ten horns. The woman was clothed in purple and scarlet, and adorned with gold and jewels and pearls, holding in her hand a golden cup full of abominations and the impurities of her sexual immorality. And on her forehead was written a name of mystery: \"Babylon the great, mother of prostitutes and of earth's abominations\" (Revelation 17:3-5).\n\nAnd I heard another voice from heaven saying, \"Come out of her, my people, lest you take part in her sins, and lest you share in her plagues; for her sins are heaped high as heaven, and God has remembered her iniquities\" (Revelation 18:4-5).\n\nAnd I heard another voice from the altar saying, \"Yes, Lord God Almighty, true and just are your judgments!\" (Revelation 16:7).\n\nAnd the temple was filled with smoke from the glory of God and from his power, and no one could enter the temple until the seven plagues of the seven angels were finished (Revelation 15:8).\n\nAnd I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, \"Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away\" (Revelation 21:3-4).\n\nAnd I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, \"Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away\" (Revelation 21:3-4).\n\nAnd I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, \"Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away\" (Revelation 21:3-4).,Alleluia. And a great voice came from the throne, saying, \"Praise our God, all you his servants, and those who fear him, both small and great.\" Revelation 19:1, 5, 7-8.\n\nWhen Babylon, the false spirit and church of every nation, had joined together, John saw, and the angel gave an account. (The angel having great power, and the earth was lit with his glory.) Babylon was brought down, for all the nations had drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication, and partaking of her sins, they were to partake of her plagues. Revelation 13:4, 14, 16.\n\nThose under the torments were such as worshipped the devil and the beast. Revelation 14:9.\n\nJohn gave an account of those who worshipped the dragon and the beast. Revelation 13:8.\n\nAll who dwell upon the earth will worship him whose names are not written in the book of life, of the Lamb who was slain, from the foundation of the world. Revelation 13:8.\n\nJohn calls the false church, with its bottomless evils.,For there is no place for the Lord to stand when in judgment for great abominations: John calls the False Church the Beast and the False Prophet, who wrought miracles before him, deceiving those who had received the Mark of the Beast and worshipped his image. John saw the kings of the earth and their armies gathering to make war against the one who sat upon the throne, named Faithful and True, bringing down Babylon's false powers from every nation united. Revelation 19:18 (And the slaughter was great): You may eat the flesh of kings, captains, mighty men, horses, and those who sat on them, and the flesh of all men, free and bound, small and great. Therefore, this part was as dung upon the earth.,And for the birds to feed on, and there is a Worm which never dies. The beast and the false prophet were taken, and the false prophet, who performed miracles before him, was deceiving those who had received the mark of the beast and worshipped his image. Both were cast alive into a Lake of Fire burning with brimstone; and the rest were slain with the sword coming out of the mouth of him who sat on the horse. And all the birds were filled with their flesh. John saw that judgment was passed against the beast and the false prophet; and against the kings and captains and mighty men and all men, both free and bond, small and great, who joined with Babylon and were under the beast's power. The kings of Babylon were idolaters, who did not know God, and were raised up to bring down others in their idolatries, having strayed from the law of truth, in which they themselves were found.,And with which the Prophets, one after another, charged Kings of Babylon, that it is not a rule for Christians, under the Gospel, to wage war one nation against another, nor join forces with such powers as the heathen do, to worship the Dragon and receive his mark in war. The heathen is that old serpent, called the Devil, who confuses the world, making parties, as in heaven he did. The angels and stars which he drew with his tail, and his angels were cast out with him, and his power limited, to have no more place in Heaven, neither in the angels nor stars. But if on Earth he can draw them, who have angelic, spiritual gifts, and bring them to degenerate from their gifts, in drawing one such through that one, he gains many more, who look at that one as an example.\n\nTherefore, let each one be on the watch, and pray to be delivered from temptations, and come to witness that blessed prayer, which is to say, Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come., thy Will be done in Earth as it is Heaven, give us this Day our daily Bread, (that is every Day our Spiritual Bread, that we may know our Life, and accep\u2223tance with and in thee, and out of Saans Power when he comes to Tempt, either in himself or through Instruments, so shall we in our Bodies, Witness a new Heaven, and a new Earth, a new Creation, wherein dwelleth Righteousness) and to say forgive us our Trespasses as we forgive them, that Trespass against us, for if ye forgive Men their Trespasses, your Heavenly Fathers will also forgive you, but if ye forgive not Men their Trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your Trespasses, (and the Exhortation is not to lay up for your selves, Treasures upon Earth, where Moth and Rust doth Corrupt, and where Thieves break through, and Steal, but lay up for your selves Treasures in Heaven, where neither Mo nor Rust doth Corrupt, and where Thieves do not break through, not Steal) and them which Witness a growth in the Prayer,Which our Lord Christ taught his Disciples to pray, they desire the Kingdom of God to come with power and glory, and his will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. They ask to be delivered from evil temptation and to receive each day their daily bread to feed their souls and live in obedience to the Gospel. His power may take place, and God may be glorified in every way on earth, for the peace of their salvation. They yield obedience to the Lamb of Peace. God will be glorified either in mercy or judgment. If the world will not admit of a growth in the Christian faith, how shall the kingdoms of this world become the kingdoms of our Lord and his Christ, who gives peace? Man is to be a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells (Isaiah 65:17, 21; Isaiah 66:22; Revelation 21:1). Such a heaven and such an earth will be far from oppression until the dragon is cast out of man's earth.,as he was cast down from Heaven, and man was to know a Second Birth, to be born again, and created anew, in the Spirit of Truth; this Spirit governs in man, and in every power, they will destroy in the lion-like nature, and the bear and wolf's nature. God will be clear of the Gentiles in manifesting the mysteries of the Revelations and the Gospel of Peace to them. The destructive sword (not of the Gospel) and its power and throne are seen from the Lamb of Peace and his power and throne. The Lamb stood on Mount Sion, and with him were the one hundred and forty-four thousand, who were redeemed from the earth, and the great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, kindreds, peoples, and tongues. They stood before the Throne and before the Lamb, when the Dragon and Beast and their worshippers were to be tormented and have no rest day nor night. And as before mentioned, the Lord will be clear of his Word sent to the Gentiles.\n\nRevelation 14:1-3, 7:9.,And will call Jews into the Gospel of Peace and spirit them in his work of Peace among Nations. Revelations show a revolution by the Dragon, Beast, false Prophet, and Church against the disobedient Gentiles (2 Corinthians 14:15). And that peace may be proclaimed throughout the world is the prayer of one in the Heavenly family who desires to do God's will, not my own. Elizabeth Redford.", "creation_year": 1711, "creation_year_earliest": 1711, "creation_year_latest": 1711, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase2"},
{"content": "\u2014Silent are the Miracles of Memphis.\nMartial.\nThere's scarcely a Bard who wrote in former time,\nHad ever such great, such bright a Theme for Rhyme;\nThe Mantuan Swain, if living, would confess\nOur more surprising than his Tyrian Dress:\nAnd Ovid's Mistress, in her loose Attire,\nWould cease to charm his Eyes, or raise Desire;\nWere he at Bath, and had these Coats in view,\nHe'd write his Metamorphoses anew:\nDelia, fresh-hoop'd, would prevail over his Heart,\nTo leave Corinna and her tawdry Veil.\nHear, great Apollo, and my Genius guide,\nTo sing this glorious Miracle of Pride:\nNor yet disdain the Subject for its Name,\nSince meaner things have oft' been sung to Fame.\nEven Boots and Spurs have graced Heroic Verse;\nButler's Knight's whole Suit was well rehearsed,\nKing Harry's Codpiece stands upon record,\nAnd every Age will precedents afford.\nThen on my Muse, and sing in Epic Strain,\nThe Petticoat\u2014thou shalt not sing in vain;\nThe Petticoat will surely reward thy Pain.\nWith all thy Skill, its secret Virtues tell.,A petticoat should still be handled well.\nOh garment, heavenly wide! thy spacious round\nDoes my astonished thoughts almost confound!\nMy fancy cannot grasp thee at a view;\nNone, at first sight, ever drew such a picture.\nThe daring artist that describes thee true,\nMust change his sides, as modern statesmen do;\nOr, like the painter, when some church he draws,\nFollowing his own, and not the builder's laws,\nAt once shew but one prospect to the sight;\nFor north and south together can't be right.\nHence ye profane,\u2014nor think I shall reveal\nThe happy wonders which these vests conceal:\nHence your unholy eyes and ears remove;\n'Tis Cupid's circle, 'tis the orb of love.\nLet it suffice you see the unwieldy fair\nSail through the streets with gales of swelling air;\nNor think (like fools) the ladies, would they try,\nArmed with their furbelows and these, could fly:\nThat's all romantic, for these garments show,\nTheir thoughts are with their petticoats, below.\nNor must we blame them, whilst they stretch their art.,Adorn and guard the Fundamental Part;\nFor that, perhaps, may stand in stead\nThan Loads of Ribbons fluttering on the Head:\nAnd let Philosophers say what they will,\nThere's something surer than their Eyes do kill.\nWe tell the Nymph, that we her Face adore:\nBut well she knows we aim at something more.\nIn vain the Ladies spend their Morning Hours\nErecting on their Heads stupendous Towers;\nA Battery from thence might scare the Foe,\nBut certain Victory is gained below.\nLet Damon then the adverse Champion be,\nTopknots for him, and Petticoats for me.\nNor must he urge, it spoils the Ladies Shape,\nThough (as the Multitude at Monsters gape)\nThe World appears all lost in wild amaze,\nAs on these new, these strange Machines they gaze:\nFor if the Cyprian Queen from Paphos came\nAttired, as we are told by antique Fame,\nThus would they wonder at the heavenly Dame.\nI own, the Female World is much estranged\nFrom what it was, and Top and Bottom changed:\nThe Head was once their darling constant Care.,But women's heads cannot bear heavy burdens as much as they can elsewhere. So, wisely they transferred the mode of dress and furnished the other end with the excess. What though, like spires or pyramids, they show, sharp at the top and of vast bulk below? It is a sign they stand the more secure; a maypole will not endure like a church; and ships at sea, when stormy winds prevail, are safer in their ballast than their sail. Hail, happy coat! for modern damsels fit, product of ladies and tailors' wit, child of invention rather than of pride, what wonders do you show, what wonders hide? Within the shelter of your useful shade, the pregnant Flora passes for a maid; thin Galatea's shriveled limbs appear as plump and juicy as they did last year; whilst tall Miranda's lank shape improves, and, graced by you, in some proportion moves; even those who are diminutively short may please themselves and make their neighbors sport, when, to their arm-pits harnessed up in you.,Nothing but head and petticoat we see,\nBut Oh, what figure fat Sempronia makes!\nAt her gigantic form the pavement quakes!\nBy thy addition she's so much enlarged;\nWhere'er she comes, the sextons now are charged\nThat all church-doors and pews be wider made;\nA vast advantage to the joiner's trade!\nYe airy nymphs that do these garments wear,\nForgive my want of skill, not want of care:\nForgive me, if I have not well displayed\nA coat, for such important uses made.\nIf ought I have forgot, it was to prove\nHow fit they are, how apt for love:\nHow in their circles cooling Zephyrs play,\nAnd what on balmy wings they bear away.\nBut there my Muse must halt\u2014she dares no more\nThan hope the pardon which she asked before.\nFINIS.", "creation_year": 1711, "creation_year_earliest": 1711, "creation_year_latest": 1711, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase2"},
{"content": "The Several DECLARATIONS and DEPOSITIONS made in COUNCIL on Monday, 22nd October, 1688, concerning the Birth of the Prince of Wales. NB. Those marked with this mark, *, were Roman Catholics.\n\nLondon: Printed and Sold by the Booksellers of London and Westminster.\nMonday, 22nd October, 1688.\n\nAn Extraordinary Council met, with the presence of His Majesty, Her Majesty the Queen Dowager, and such of the Peers of this Kingdom, both Spiritual and Temporal, as were in Town. The Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the City of London; the Judges, and several of Their Majesties Council, Learned, hereafter named.\n\nHis Majesty's most Excellent Majesty.\nHer Majesty the Queen Dowager in a chair-placed on the King's right hand.\nHis Royal Highness Prince George of Denmark,\nLord Chancellor,\nLord President,\nLord Privy Seal,\nDuke of Hamilton,\nLord Chamberlain,\nEarl of Oxford,\nEarl of Huntingdon,\nEarl of Peterborough,\nEarl of Craven,\nEarl of Berkeley.,Earl of Rochester, Earl of Moray, Earl of Middleton, Earl of Melfort, Earl of Castlemain, Viscount Preston, Lord Bellasyse, Lord Godolphin, Lord Dover, Master of the Rolls, L. Ch. Justice Herbert, Sir Thomas Strickland, Sir Nicholas Butler, Mr. Titus, Lord A. B. of Canterbury, Duke of Norfolk, Duke of Grafton, Duke of Ormond, Duke of Northumberland, Marquess of Halyfax, Earl of Pembroke, Earl of Salisbury, Earl of Clarendon, Earl of Cardigan, Earl of Ailesbury, Earl of Burlington, Earl of Litchfield, Earl of Feversham, Earl of Nottingham, Viscount Newport, Viscount Weymouth, Bishop of London, Bishop of Winchester, Bishop of Rochester, Bishop of Chester, Bishop of St. Davids, Lord North, Lord Chandos, Lord Montagu, Lord Herbert of Chirbury, Earl of Carbery, Lord Colepeper, Lord Churchill, Lord Waldegrave, The Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the City of London, Sir Robert Wright, Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, Justices of the King's Bench, Sir Thomas Powel.,Sir Robert Baldock, Sir Thomas Street, Sir Edward Littleton, Sir Thomas Jenner, Barons of the Exchequer. Sir Richard Heath, Sir Charles Ingleby, Sir John Rotheram, His Majesty's Serjeants at Law. Sir John Maynard, Sir John Holt, Sir Ambrose Philips, Sir Thomas Powis, His Majesty's Attorney General. Sir William Williams, His Majesty's Solicitor General. Sir James Butler. Mr. North, the Queen's Attorney. Mr. Montagu, the Queen's Solicitor. Sir Charles Porter.\n\nMy Lords,\n\nI have called you together on a very extraordinary occasion; but extraordinary diseases require extraordinary remedies. The malicious endeavors of my enemies have so poisoned the minds of some of my subjects that, by the reports I have from all hands, I have reason to believe that very many do not think this son, with which God has blessed me, to be mine, but a supposed child. But I may say, that by particular providence,\n\n(This text appears to be mostly clean and readable, with no major requirements for correction or translation. A few minor punctuation marks have been added for clarity, but no significant changes have been made to the text.),I have taken the time to have this matter heard and examined here, expecting that the Prince of Orange will invade this kingdom with the first eastwardly wind. As I have risked my life for the nation before I came to the crown, I now feel obligated to do the same as king. I intend to go in person against him to satisfy the minds of my subjects and prevent the kingdom from being engaged in bloodshed and confusion after my death. I have always aimed to do what contributes most to the ease and quiet of my subjects, as shown by securing their liberty of conscience and the enjoyment of their properties, which I will always preserve. I have asked the queen dowager to come here to declare what she knows about the birth of my son.,And most of the Ladies, Lords, and other Persons who were present were ready here to depose upon oath their knowledge of this matter. When the King sent for her to the Queen's Labour, she came as soon as she could and never stirred from her till she was delivered of the Prince of Wales.\n\nCatherine R.\n\nThe following depositions were all taken upon oath:\n\nThat about the 29th of December last, the Queen was likely to miscarry; whereupon she immediately went unto her and offered her some effective remedies, which are used on such occasions. The Queen ordered this deponent to inform the doctors of this. The day following, the Queen Dowager sent this deponent to see how the Queen did. She replied, \"She had a pretty good night, and did think she had quickened, but would not be positive till she felt it again.\" After this, the deponent frequently waited on the Queen in the morning and did see her shift several days and generally saw the milk.,And sometimes she got wet on her smock. After going into the country and not returning until a few days before the Queen gave birth, she saw the Queen every day until then and was in the room for a quarter of an hour before the Queen delivered the prince by Mrs. Wilks, the midwife. I saw this and immediately took the prince, carried by Mrs. Delabadie into the Queen's little bedchamber. I saw Sir Thomas Witherly sent for by the midwife, who gave the child three drops of something as it was born, which I saw. I verify that this prince is the same one who was born then, and I have not been separated from him since.\n\nElizabeth Powis.\n\nShe went to the Queen from Whitehall to St. James's as soon as she heard that the Queen was in labor. Upon arrival, she found the Queen in bed.,The Lady Sunderland, Lady Roscomon, Mrs. Labadie, and the midwife were on the side of the bed where the Queen lay. I, along with many others, stood on the opposite side until the Queen was delivered. As soon as she was delivered, the Queen said, \"O Lord, I don't hear the child cry.\" Immediately afterward, I heard the child cry and saw the midwife take the child out of the bed and give it to Mrs. Labadie, who carried it into the little bedchamber. I followed her and saw that it was a son, and I had also seen milk run out on the Queen's smock several times during her pregnancy.\n\nA. Aran.\n\nI was often with the Queen while she was last with child and saw milk on her smock several times when she was pregnant.,June 10, 1688. I went to St. James's Chapel at eight in the morning to receive the Sacrament. However, during the communion service, a man from the chapel approached me and instructed me to come to the Queen. I replied that I would as soon as prayers were finished. Shortly after, another man arrived at the altar and informed me that the Queen was in labor, and I was to go to her bedchamber. Upon entering, the Queen told me she believed she was in labor. The bed had been warmed, and she went into it.,The King entered. The Queen asked the King if he had summoned the Queen Dowager; he replied that he had sent for everyone. The deponent stood on the Queen's bolster, along with Lady Roscomon, Mrs. Delabatie, and the midwife, on the side of the bed where the Queen gave birth. After prolonged labor, the Queen expressed concern that she would not deliver soon. Inquiring of the midwife, she was assured that she only needed one more intense contraction to bring the child into the world. The Queen then doubted this, believing the child was too high up. She asked the deponent to touch her belly to confirm, which the deponent did. However, a strong contraction came on around nine o'clock, and the Queen was delivered. The midwife, as assured, pulled the deponent by the coat to signal a son's birth, as the Queen had instructed her not to reveal it to her immediately.,A. Sunderland: I stood by the Lady Sunderland in the Queen's Bedchamber on the 10th of June last, and saw the Prince of Wales being born.\n\nI. Roscommon: I waited on the Queen Dowager in the Queen's Bedchamber at St. James's when she was in labor. I stood by the bed's feet when she was delivered of the Prince. I saw the Prince taken away into another room, and followed shortly after to find him there.\n\n* Marg. Fingall: I was sent for to St. James's on Trinity Sunday last past around eight o'clock in the morning. The man who came for me said the Queen was in labor.,And I, along with others, was sent to summon everyone. I made haste to rise and dress, but did not reach the queen's bedchamber until a little after nine o'clock. Upon arrival, I found the queen in bed, with the queen dowager seated on a stole, and some ladies present. After staying a while and believing the queen was not in severe pain, I left and, near the room where the queen's linen was warming, heard a noise. Finding no one there, I ran to the queen's little bedchamber, where Lord Feversham informed me the child had been born. I asked him, \"What is it?\" He replied he couldn't tell. I then hurried to the queen's bedside, where she asked the midwife, \"Please, Mrs. Wilks, don't cut the navel string.\",Until the after-birth has been delivered). While the Queen was pregnant, this deponent had heard Her Majesty command her midwife not to do otherwise, as it was considered the safest way; but to what the Queen said just then (to the best of this deponent's remembrance), Mrs. Wilks replied, \"Please, Madam, allow me, for I will do nothing but what will be safe for you and your child.\" The Queen answered, \"Do then, and then cried, 'Where is the King gone?' His Majesty came immediately from the other side of the bed (having just had a sight of the child) and answered the Queen, \"Here I am.\" The Queen asked, \"Why do you leave me now?\" The King knelt on the bed, on that side where the deponent stood, and a little after the midwife said, \"All is now come safely away.\" Upon that, the King rose from the bed and said, \"Pray, my Lords, come and see the child.\" The King followed Mrs. Labadie and His Majesty into the little bedchamber, and this deponent followed as well, and saw, along with them, that it was a prince.,And Mrs. Wilks was justified in wanting to separate the child, as the Prince's face, particularly his forehead, was blackish due to being stunned, as I have seen other children when they have recently been born. However, thankfully, within two hours the child was dressed and washed, which I stayed to oversee. I, S. Bulkely, further add that throughout the entirety of the Queen's pregnancy, I had the honor to pay my respects to her frequently, both mornings and nights, in attending to her in her dressing room and bedroom. For the past three or four months, I had often seen the Queen's milk, as well as when I had the privilege of putting on her smock.\n\nOn Trinity Sunday, the 10th of June last, my servant noticed the Queen Dowager's coaches in St. James's at an unusual hour and went to inquire about the reason.,And was told the Queen was in labor, so he came into the deponent's chamber and awakened her. The Queen had lodged at St. James's the night before, but in a great hurry, they had forgotten to summon the deponent as the Queen had ordered. The deponent hurried into the Queen's bedchamber and found the Queen in bed, with Mrs. Wilks, the Queen's midwife, sitting by the bedside with her hands in the Queen's bed. The Queen asked the midwife what she thought, and the midwife assured her that the next great pain would result in the birth of the child. The King ordered the Privy Councillors to be called in. The deponent stood behind the midwife's chair, and immediately after the Queen's having another great pain, the prince was born. The deponent saw the child taken out of the bed with the navel string hanging from its belly. The deponent opened the receiver and saw it was a son, but did not hear the child cry.,And seeing it a little black, she was afraid it was in a convulsion fit. - S. Bellasyse\nShe was in the Queen's Bed-Chamber a quarter of an hour before her Majesty was delivered, and standing by the bedside, she saw the Queen in labor and heard her cry out much. - Henrietta Waldgrave\nI went with the Queen Dowager to the Queen's labor on the tenth of June last, and never stirred out of the room till the Queen was delivered. - That's me.\nI did not follow the child when it was first carried out of the room, but stayed in the bedchamber and saw all that was to be seen after the birth of a child. I then went to see the prince and found him looking ill, and immediately went to the king and told him I feared the child was sick. The king went immediately to the prince and came back and said it was a mistake, the child was very well. - Mary Crane\nShe often saw the milk of her Majesty's breast upon her smock, at which the queen was troubled.,It being a common saying that it was a sign the child would not live. I, the Deponent, felt the child stir in the queen's belly while she was in bed, and was present when the child was born, staying until I heard it cry. I then went to fetch vinegar for the queen to smell. The queen commanded the midwife not to tell her of the child's sex, for fear of surprising her. Upon bringing the vinegar, I desired to see the child, with Mrs. Delabadie holding it. The child looked black, so I requested Doctor Waldegrave to examine it, believing it was not well. I saw the navel string of the child cut, and three drops of fresh blood given to him for the convulsion fits.\n\nI waited on the queen dowager during the queen's labor and remained by her bedside the entire time, standing there until the queen was delivered, and following the child.,When Mrs. Delabadie carried the child to the little bedchamber and believed the child was unwell, Caterina Sayer took a warm napkin and laid it on the child's breast.\n\nCaterina Sayer. She was constantly with the Queen, and as it was likely that the Queen was going to miscarry, had often seen milk in the Queen's breast. She was with the Queen during her labor with the Prince and saw the Prince taken out of the bed. Afterwards, Caterina went with the Prince in her arms into the little bedchamber, and was present when the child was shown to the King, confirming it was a son. She then took the afterbirth and put it into a basin of water, carrying it into the Queen's closet.\n\nIsabella Waldgrave. On the tenth of June last, in the morning, she was summoned by the Queen from St. James's Chapel where she was at prayers. Upon entering the Queen's chamber, she found the Queen sitting alone on a stool by the bedside. The Queen told her she believed she was in labor.,And she, the Deponent, was bid to prepare the pallet bed in the next room for the Queen, but as this bed had never been aired, the Deponent persuaded the Queen not to use it. Instead, the Queen asked the Deponent to make ready the bed she had come out of, which was done. The Deponent further states that she saw a warming pan carried into the Queen's room to warm the bed, after which the Queen went to bed, and the Deponent remained there until the Queen gave birth to a son. The Deponent remembers that on December 29th last, the Queen was afraid of miscarrying, around the time she went into labor. After the Queen had been pregnant for 22 weeks, her milk began to flow, which the Deponent often saw on her smock. On May 9th, the Queen again feared miscarrying due to a fright. The Deponent was sick all winter until just before Easter.,When she, the Deponent, came into waiting, she saw the Queen put on her smock every morning and observed the milk constantly falling from her Majesty's breasts and the size of her Majesty's belly, which could not be counterfeit. The Deponent came from Whitehall to the Queen's labor at St. James's on the tenth of June last and remained in the room till the Queen was delivered and afterwards; however, she did not follow the child until some time after, when she went to see what colored eyes he had.\n\nElizabeth Bromley.\n\nShe constantly attended the Queen when she was last in childbirth, and on the tenth of June last, she was in waiting on her Majesty, who called her on that day in the morning and told her, \"I am in pain, and bid you send for the midwife, my ladies and servants.\" After this, the Deponent stayed with the Queen during her labor.,And she waited on the Queen Dowager from Somerset-house to St. James, and was present when the Queen was brought to bed. She remained in the Queen's bedchamber until the Queen was delivered of the Prince of Wales.\nAnna Cary.\nShe was with the Queen throughout her pregnancy, dressing her every day, and missed no more than six days during the nine months.\nOn the morning of the tenth of June last, she was summoned to the Queen, who was in labor. She arrived promptly and remained with the Queen throughout the labor. Kneeling beside the midwife, she provided the Queen with clothes. The midwife informed her that the next contraction would result in the Queen's delivery. True to her word, the Queen was soon delivered. Anna Cary whispered to the midwife, asking if it was a girl.,The Midwife answered my response with a \"No.\" She then separated the child and placed it in the receiver I had given her, and delivered the child to me, instructing me to go and care for the navel. The King and Council followed me, and the King asked me what it was. I replied that it was a son. The Privy Counselors present then confirmed this by examining the child one by one. I sat with the prince in my lap until the Midwife had finished with the queen. The Midwife then took the prince from me and asked for a spoon to give him three drops of blood from the navel cord. The Midwife cut off the navel cord upon the advice of the physicians, who stated that it was beneficial against seizures. I held the spoon as the Midwife dropped the blood into it, and stirred it with a little black cherry water.,And then it was given to the Prince. The Queen sent for this Deponent and gave her the Prince to take care of him as his dry nurse, which she had done hitherto. This Deponent testifies that it is the same child born of the Queen. Mrs. Danvers, one of the Queen's women, came to see the Prince. She was glad to see the same marks on his eye as the Queen's previous children had. Mary Anne Delabadie, the Queen's midwife, came frequently to her, especially when her Majesty was in danger of miscarrying. She felt the child stir in her belly and saw the milk run out of the Queen's breasts. On Trinity Sunday last, in the morning about eight o'clock, the Queen sent Mr. White, the Page of the Back-stairs, to call this Deponent, believing herself to be in labor. When this Deponent arrived,,The deponent found the Queen in great pain and trembling. The Queen expressed her fear that it was the onset of labor, as her time was near for reckoning. The deponent urged the Queen not to be afraid, assuring her that it was indeed her full time and that she hoped the Queen would have a good labor as always. While the Queen was trembling, her water broke, and she summoned the King, who was then at his own side. The Queen instructed the deponent to call for Mrs. Dawson and the other women. Mrs. Dawson arrived promptly, accompanied by the Countess of Sunderland and the other women. The deponent prepared the bed for the Queen to give birth in, which was ready by ten o'clock that morning. The Queen was then delivered of the Prince of Wales with the assistance of the deponent.,And afterwards, the Deponent showed the After-burthen to the Physicians and cut the navel-string, giving the Prince three drops of her blood to prevent convulsion fits, according to their order. The Deponent further states that when the child was born, it wasn't crying, and the Queen thought it was dead. The Deponent assured her it was not and requested permission to separate the child from the after-birthen. The Queen was reluctant, fearing it might be dangerous for herself, but the Deponent assured her it would not. Her Majesty then gave her consent, and the child immediately began crying. The Deponent then gave it to Mrs. Labadie.\n\nJudith Wilkes.\n\nAt around nine in the morning on the 10th of June last, she entered the bedchamber and heard the Queen cry out in great pain.,Elizabeth Pearse stated that she did not attend the Queen's labor because she did not arrive in time. After the Queen's delivery, Pearse saw the Prince of Wales given to Mrs. Labadie. The midwife then displayed the newborn to the company, and Pearse and her maids removed and took away the soiled linens. For a month after the Queen's lying-in, Pearse knew from washing her linens that the Queen was in the same condition as other women after giving birth. Some time after the Queen's quickening, it became apparent from her smocks that the Queen had milk in her breasts, which continued until she was brought to bed again.,The deponent made haste to dress herself, but the Queen gave birth before she arrived. This occurred at a time when the Queen feared she would miscarry, and the physicians ordered her to remain in bed for that reason. One evening, the deponent went to attend the Queen and, as she stood by her bedside, the Queen said to her, \"My milk is now very troublesome. It runs out so much.\" The deponent asked the Queen if this was usual, to which she replied, \"It used to run out a little, but now, due to my fear of miscarrying, it runs out excessively, as you can see, discarding the bedclothes to the middle of her stomach and showing her smock to the deponent, which was soaked with her milk.\"\n\nF. Richmond and Lenox.\n\nThe deponent was not present for the Queen's labor (as she was in childbed herself) but was almost constantly with the Queen while she was with child. The deponent put on her smock, witnessed the milk flowing from the Queen's breast, and felt her belly.,She was certain the Queen was pregnant, having seen her belly grow and milk stain her smock on several occasions. This was attested by C. Litchfield. A. Marischall testified that he was sent to St. James's on June 10th, where he believed the Queen was in labor based on her pains and cries. He arrived after a messenger had left word of her labor, and remained at her bedside until the other lords were called in.,It was reported by some women on the other side of the bed that a child was born. The deponent heard the Queen say she did not hear it cry. The deponant immediately asked the Lord President what it was, and he whispered that it was a boy. The deponant followed a gentlewoman, since identified as Mrs. Labadie, who carried the child into another room. The deponant saw the child when she first opened it, and it was black and reeking, leading the deponant to believe that the Queen had given birth to that child that very morning.\n\nThe deponant was sent to St. James's on the morning of June 10th, as the Queen was in labor. Upon arrival, the deponant found many Lords of the Council present. After spending some time in an outer room,,The Lord Chamberlain and the rest of the Council were summoned to the Queen's bedchamber, where she gave birth to a son on the 10th of June, around nine or ten in the morning. I, Sunderland, followed Mrs. Labadie into the next room and witnessed the newborn's arrival. The Lord Chancellor informed me of the Queen's intense labor pains, which he believed indicated a swift delivery.,The Deponent heard whispers that it was a prince, but no one was allowed to speak it aloud, as the sudden knowledge might have discomposed the Queen. The Deponent did not go in with some Lords when the child was taken into the next room, which is why the Deponent did not see him when he was uncovered and dressed.\n\nArundel: The prince was at the bed's feet, and the Deponent heard the Queen cry a lot. Then the Deponent followed the child into the other room, and it seemed a little black; the Deponent also saw that it was a boy.\n\nMulgrave: The Deponent was attending the King at St. James's on the 10th of June last, in the morning, to receive the King's word. The King was informed that the Queen was about to go into labor, so the King commanded the Deponent's stay and attendance. After a hour and a bit, the Deponent was present.,With some other Lords of His Majesty's Privy Council, I was called into the Queen's bedchamber to be present at her delivery. I remember the Queen making three groans or squeaks, and at the last of these, she was delivered of a child. The child was taken out into the little bedchamber and, by the fire, I saw it being cleaned. I, Craven, further swear that I took note of this child's distinctive mark to ensure I could positively identify him as the Prince of Wales, who was brought out of the Queen's bedchamber in the presence of myself and others during her labor and delivery.\n\nOn the 10th of June between 8 and 9 in the morning, Mr. Nicholas, one of His Majesty's grooms of His Bedchamber, entered my room to inform the Queen Dowager that the Queen was in labor.,The deponent told the Queen Dowager that she had ordered her coach upon hearing news of the queen's labor. The deponent quickly dressed and waited upon the Queen Dowager, who was ready to depart in her coach. The deponent entered one of her coaches to attend to the queen as he usually did, having the honor to be her lord chamberlain. They went to St. James's, and the deponent led the queen into the queen's bedchamber, finding her in pain. The deponent stepped into the next room where several lords of the Privy Council were, from which he heard the queen cry several times. A little after, the lords of the council were called into the bedchamber, and the deponent followed them. The queen cried out louder, and then said, \"Pray do not tell me what it is yet.\" The deponent went out of the room to report that the queen had given birth, and upon his return, the news had already been shared.,That the deposent saw a prince being held by Mrs. Labadie in the crowd immediately after his birth in the little bedchamber on the 10th of June last, around 10 a.m., 1688.\nFerversham.\n\nThat the deposent did not arrive at St. James's until half an hour after the queen gave birth to a prince, which the deposent believes, as he is alive, occurred on the 10th of June last, 1688, around 9-10 a.m.\n* Morray.\n\nOn the 10th of June last, between 8 and 9 a.m., the deposent received notice that the queen was in labor. The deposent hurried to St. James's, where they found the Earl of Craven waiting at the queen's bedchamber door near the drawing room, which was then closed. Just after the king opened it.,The Earl of Caven called me in, and I asked the king how the queen was. He replied, \"You are a married man, so you can understand these matters. The water has broken or come away, or something to that effect. Then he bade me go into the dressing-room within the bedchamber. About half an hour later, to the best of my memory, all the people in that room were summoned into the bedchamber. I stood near the bed's feet on the left side, where I heard the queen's groans. After several loud shrieks, the last one continued for so long that I wondered how anyone could hold their breath that long. Shortly after, they said the queen had given birth. I stepped up to the bedside and saw a woman, whom I suppose was the midwife, kneeling at the other side of the bed.,The deponent held the woman's hands and arms within the bedclothes for a while, then saw her place a cloth on her lap, lay the end of it over the bedclothes, and draw out a child (which the deponent believes he could not see at the time). She gave the child to Mrs. Labadie, who carried it into a small room, and the deponent followed the king into the room. The woman sat down by the fire and said, \"It's a boy.\" The king replied, \"Let me see it.\" She opened the cloth and showed the entire child, saying, \"Here's what you wanted to see.\" The deponent does not recall the exact words, but remembers the meaning. The deponent looked at the child, who appeared very foul. The deponent requests forgiveness if his language is unclear, but hopes his meaning is clear.\n\nMiddleton.\n\nOn Sunday, the 10th of June last,,Between 8 and 9 in the morning, the deponent was informed that the queen was in labor. The deponent went to St. James's and waited in the queen's drawing room until some gentlemen told him he could enter. The deponent knocked on the door of the bedchamber and, finding no answer, he went down the garden side and came to the queen's back stairs. Finding the dressing room door open, the deponent entered the queen's bedchamber, where he saw a large number of people, lords and ladies, standing around the bed. The deponent heard the queen cry out in great pain, as women do when they are about to give birth. The deponent heard her complain, and a woman's voice, which the deponent believed to be the midwife's, telling her she would be well soon, she would be delivered immediately. Within a little while, the ladies behind the bed announced that the queen had given birth, and the queen cried out, \"The child is dead. I do not hear it cry.\",And immediately the child cried. A woman brought another child from the bed. I stared so intently at the child that I didn't recognize the woman. The child was in the condition of a newborn, swaddled in loose clothes. I saw him carried into the little bedchamber, and passed by the dressing room. I entered the room where the prince was through the other door and saw him in the same condition as a newborn. I believe, by the oath I have taken, that this is the queen's child.\n\nMelfort.\n\nI was summoned to the queen's bedchamber, along with the other lords of the council, and was among the last to be called. The queen Dowager was there, along with several ladies. The room was so crowded that I couldn't get near the bed, but stood by the chimney. I heard the queen cry out several times, as women do when they are in labor. The last cry I heard,On the 10th of June last, about 9 in the morning, as I came out of the Whitehall Chapel after the first sermon, I heard that the Queen was in labor. I, the deponent, hurried to St. James's because, as an officer of the Green Cloth, I was responsible for ensuring that the household staff below stairs were in their posts to prevent any shortages of provisions and necessities under my command. Before doing so, I went up the back stairs to the Queen's dressing room, where I found myself among many others.,This deponent heard the Queen cry out loudly. He hurried to the Green-Cloth room and ordered the servants to bring out whatever was requested. Upon hearing that a prince had been born, this deponent entered the Queen's Little Bedchamber before the child was dressed.\n\nOn Sunday, 10th of June last, this deponent had the honor of waiting on the King with the Stick. Between 8 and 9 in the morning, this deponent was in the Queen's Dressing Room at St. James's with several Lords of the Council. After some time, the King entered the room from the Queen's Bedchamber and called all the Lords in. This deponent followed them into the room. Immediately after the Lords and this deponent entered, the Queen cried out extremely and said, \"I die; you kill me.\",And the Midwife, as this deposition believes, answered, \"This is one pain, Madam, and it will be over.\" Then Mrs. Dawson indicated to this deposition that the child was born. The Queen said, \"Don't tell me what it is yet,\" and Mrs. Delabadie took the child away from the bedside and went with it into the little bedchamber. The King and the Lords of the Council followed her, but this deposition did not.\n\nUpon this deposition's visit to Her Majesty lying at St. James's on June 10, 1688, as this deposition went up the back stairs, there was a joyful acclamation that a Prince of Wales had been born. This deposition hastened into the little bedchamber, where Mrs. Labadie was sitting before the fire with the newborn prince wrapped in mantles.,The deponent presented the prince to the queen in the next bedchamber and congratulated her on the safe delivery and the birth of the prince. The queen was tired but in good condition. The midwife then showed the afterbirth to the deponent and Sir Thomas Witherley for examination, which they found to be sound and perfect. Later, a medicine was mentioned among the ladies for a remedy against convulsions. It was some drops of blood from the navel string. The deponent consulted Sir Thomas Witherley and the other physicians, and it was allowed to satisfy the women since there was believed to be no danger in the procedure. The midwife then cut the navel string beyond the ligature, from which came some drops of fresh blood, taken in a spoon, and given to the child.,The Deponent relates that the Queen's beverage included a small amount of black cherry water during her Majesty's pregnancy. The Queen had two accounts of her conception: one from September 6th when the King returned to Bath where the Queen was, and the other from October 6th when the Queen joined the King at Windsor. The Queen preferred the latter date, although it later proved to align with the former. When the Queen believed she had been pregnant for twelve weeks, she expressed feeling the child move. The Deponent did not respond to the Queen but shared her doubts with others. However, the Queen was correct, she was actually sixteen weeks pregnant at that time, a point when she typically quickened with her previous children.,And on the 10th of June, 1688, the deponent was present in the queen's bedchamber when the Prince of Wales was born. The deponent saw Mrs. Labadie bring the child from the midwife and carry him into the next room. I followed her and saw the child before he was cleaned. At the queen's command, the deponent and other physicians took two drops of blood from the navel string and gave it to the queen in a spoonful of black-cherry-water. After this, the deponent, along with the other physicians, saw the afterbirth in its entirety.\n\nThomas Witherley.\n\nIn the course of the queen's pregnancy, the deponent, who had the honor of waiting upon her as usual, was present.,Upon the 13th of February 1687, around ten in the morning, she told the deponent that she had milk in her breasts which leaked out. It was then believed to be the 19th week according to one reckoning, but according to another, it was the one or two twentieth week. The deponent also asserts that the queen took astringent medicines during most of her pregnancy to prevent miscarriage; had she not been pregnant, they would have been harmful to her health and dangerous. On the 10th of June 1688, the deponent was summoned to his lodging in Whitehall to attend the queen, who was informed that she was in labor. Upon receiving this news, the deponent immediately went to St. James's and into the queen's bedchamber, finding her in the early stages of labor, around eight in the morning. The deponent remained there, leaving only to fetch suitable medicines and then returning, and was present when she cried out.,And the deponent was delivered. The deponent followed Mrs. Delabadie, who took the prince in her arms as soon as he was born, and carried him into the little bedchamber. The deponent saw him on her lap and was present when he took two or three drops of the navel-string, which was mixed with black cherry water. Then the deponent returned to the great bedchamber, where the deponent saw the afterbirth was fresh and warm.\n\nLittle before ten of the clock in the morning, on the tenth of June 1688, the deponent was in the queen's little bedchamber at St. James', where the deponent saw the prince of Wales in Mrs. Labadie's lap by the fireside. The deponent desired to see the linen and blankets opened in which he was wrapped. When done, the deponent saw it was a male child, and the navel-string hanging down below the virile parts with a ligature upon it, not far from the body, but did not see any afterbirth hanging at or joined to it.\n\nWilliam Waldgrave.,Robert Brady testified that he had given the queen medicines as ordered from the beginning of November 1688 until the 9th of June. On the 10th of June, he was summoned urgently to St. James's Palace, where he was informed that the queen was in labor. He received a note from the physicians requesting medicines, which he had to prepare before making it to the palace. Upon arrival, he encountered Mrs. Labadie carrying the newborn prince, followed by the king and several lords. The deponent witnessed the child naked in the little bedchamber.,Before it was cleansed from its impurities; I saw the navel-string cut and some drops of fresh blood received into a spoon, which the physicians ordered given to the child. Afterwards, I went into the great bedchamber where the queen was delivered and saw the afterbirth.\n\nJa. St. Amand.\n\nAfter these depositions were taken, His Majesty informed the Lords that Princess Anne of Denmark would have been present, but, being with child and having not recently stirred abroad, she could not come without risk. Adding further,\n\nAnd now, My Lords, although I did not doubt that every person here was satisfied in this matter; yet, by what you have heard, you will be better able to satisfy others. Besides, if my wife and I could be thought so wicked as to attempt to impose a child upon the nation.,You see how impossible it would have been for me, having constantly been with the queen during her pregnancy and labor. I could not be deceived, and none of you would believe me capable of such great villainy to the prejudice of my own children. I thank God that those who know me know that it is my principle to do unto others as I would have them do unto me. I would rather die a thousand deaths than do the least wrong to any of my children.\n\nHis Majesty further said: If any of my lords think it necessary for the queen to be summoned, it shall be done. But his lordships did not think it necessary, and the queen was not summoned.\n\nIt is ordered today by His Majesty in Council that the various declarations made by His Majesty and by Queen Dowager, as well as the various depositions entered, be published.,The Order in Council and the declarations of the king and the queen dowager were enrolled in the Court of Chancery. The Lord Chancellor, on October 27th, in the High Court of Chancery with many nobility and lords of the king's Privy Council present, caused these orders and declarations to be read out loud. The individuals who made the depositions were present in court and were sworn again. After hearing their depositions read out and being interrogated by the court, they all affirmed under oath that their depositions were true, except for a few.,Who came late to the Council Chamber or those who stood too far away that they heard His Majesty and the Queen-Dowager make the declarations mentioned, and that these declarations, as they had been read, were truly entered as they believed in the Council Book according to the sense, intent, and meaning of what His Majesty the King and the Queen-Dowager declared then. Since the Earl of Huntingdon and the Earl of Peterborough, who were able to testify to the matters mentioned, had not been examined at the Council Board but had brought their depositions in writing, the Lord Chancellor, after the earls were severally sworn, ordered their depositions to be publicly read in these words:\n\nOn Trinity Sunday, 10th June, 1688, I went to St. James's House around 9 a.m. and followed the Lord Chancellor through the Lodgings to the Dressing-Room next to the Queen's Bedchamber.,I. In the Council chamber where various Lords gathered during the Queen's labor, the King entered several times. He shared with us that the Queen's delivery was proceeding exactly as she had initially predicted. This prediction was made from the King's return from his progress to Bath in September 1687. Afterwards, the Counsellors were summoned to the bedchamber. I stood on the side with the open curtains and heard the Queen cry out several times. I remained in the room for the birth of the Prince of Wales. I saw him taken into a small bedchamber, and the King, the Lords, and I followed him there.\n\nHuntingdon.\n\nII. I had the honor of being in the King's chamber in the morning when word reached him that the Queen was unwell. I accompanied him to the dressing room next to her bedchamber and stayed there until the King called me into the room.,I confess the compassion I felt for the Queen hearing her cries made my stay there uneasy. One cry in particular seemed so sharp that it forced me to cover my ears with my fingers for a moment to avoid hearing more. When I released them, I heard no more cries but perceived a sudden satisfaction on the faces of the assistants, several of whom declared that the Queen had been delivered. Soon thereafter, I saw the prince brought from beside the bed and carried into a small bedchamber. I went there to see him more closely and saw him as a newly born child.\n\nAfterward, the earls affirmed their depositions to be true, as they had been read, and swore that they had been present in council and heard the king and the queen dowager make the declarations mentioned above.\n\nPeterborough.,And the same were entered in the Council Book as they believed, according to the true and meaningful sense of what the majesties declared in Council. The Attorney General of His Majesty moved the court that the declarations of His Majesty and the Queen Dowager, as well as the depositions and the order of council, be enrolled in the Petty Bag Office and in the Office of Inrolments in the Court of Chancery for safe preservation and custody. By His Majesty's special command, published.", "creation_year": 1711, "creation_year_earliest": 1711, "creation_year_latest": 1711, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase2"}
]